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Full text of "The British quarterly review"

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BRITISH QUARTERLY REVIEW. 



JANUARY AND APKII, 18T4. 



KBW YOSK! 

PUBLISHED BY TflE lEONAEII 800TT PUBUSHDla COMPANY, 

41 BiBeUT 9tBnr< 



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BRITISH QUARTERLY KEVIEW, 



FOR JANUARY, 1874. 



N^ 



Art. L— 2%e £all<id : lis Nature and Liie- 

raiy Affinilies, 
(1.) Scottish Balladi and Soniii,Hi»iorical 

and Traditionary. Edited by Jahss 

Maidmknt. Two voIh. 1868. 
(2.) The Ballad* of Scotland. Edited by 

William Ebmondbtoune Attous, D.C.L. 

1858. 
(3.) The Romantic Seotlish Ballads, Ikeir 

Epoch and Authorship. By Robert 

CUAMBKBB, F.R.S.R, &c. 1859. 
(4.) 7'he Romantic Scottish Jiallads and 

Ike Lady Wardlaw Herent/. By Korval 

ClTNE. 1859. 

{5.) Reliqves of Ancient £nffli»h Poetry. 
By Thouas Percy, Lord Bishop of 
Droinore, 1765. 

(6.) Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. Col- 
lected by Sir Waltbr Scott, UaroneL 
1802. 

The name Ballad was long ago divorced 
from tlie thing which it originaliy deaignat- 
od. No one now associates with the word 
the idea of a dance-song, which radicaiiy be- 
longs to it In its congeners balkl and hall, 
the primary idea of dancing is still preserved. 
But, as in the case of treaties of peace, rival 
claims seem to have been settled here on the 

trinciple of mutual concession. The ballad 
OS resigned the dancing to the ballet and the 
ball ; and they, in exchange, have abandon- 
ed the singing to the haUad. The combina- 
tion of singing and dancing i», of coarse, 
perfectly natural. It is as natural that exn- 
beraut feeling should be expressed by rhyth- 
mical movements of the whole body as by 
rhythmical raovementa of its most expressive 
organ — the voice. Perhaps it is most rcason- 

VOL. Lll. li— 1 



able of all that the two modes of motion 
should harmoniously combine. 

In fact, this union is found pervading the 
primitive entertainments of most nations. 
The wild ' whoop ' of the Indian in his war 
dance, and \be ' haloo ' of the Scottish High- 
lander in the mad whirl of his reel, are ahke 
inarticulate ballads, expressing in the one 
case savage triumph, in the other exuberant 
mirth. One traveller describes to us the 
simple custom of the Faroese, who ' recreate 
tbemseK'cs with a plain dance, holding one 
another by the band, and singing^the while 
some old champion's ta Had.' Another tells 
us how his peaceful arrival on one of the 
South Sea Islands was celebrated by an cic- 
tempore lay, which had for its rhythmical ac- 
companiment the dancing and merry-making 
of the children who performed it. But it is 
in connection with pnmitive religions services 
that the union of singing and danc ng is 
most strikingly illustrated, and that chiefly 
among Eastern nations, from the days of 
Miriam and David to those of the Greek 
dithyrambic chorus, and from the Greek 
chorus to the Moslem dervishes, and £^p- 
tian alme and Indian bayaderes of our own 

This is in it»elf a deeply interesting sub- 
ject, but we refer to it now merely for the 
purpose of pointing out how widriy the term 
with which we are dealing has departed 
from its original application. For the ballad 
long ago reser\*ed itself to designate a par- 
ticular department of literature, using lan- 
guage, spoken or written, as the only medium 
through which its thoughts are expressed. ^ 

But, even in its literary application, great 
liberties have been taken with the term. It 



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7h« Baliud: Its Nature and Literary A^niliea. 



Jan. 



■ypro- 



ha£ been applied, even in the aame a^ to 
works of the most diverse character. In 
England this confusion reached its climax in 
tlie sixteenth centnry, when the names hook 
and ballet appear to bare been nsed indiffe- 
rently for nearly every kind of literary 
duct, whether in prose or in verse, A 
poem in ' The Mirrour for Magistrates,' 
tied ' The Muminge of Edward, Duke of 
Buckingliam ' (apparently a popular epitome 
of Sackville's famous ' Complaint,') is called 
a ballad. About the same time there ap- 
peared a versified history taken from the 
* Romance of Alexander ; ' that, also, is 
called a ballad. Sometiniea a ballad is a 
work wholly written in prose ; eometiraes it 
is a play, or an interlude. Many ballads are 
religions works, for in I56I there was pub- 
ishcd 'A new Ballet of Four of the Com- 
mandments,' and a few years later we have 
a ballad on ' The Seventeenth Chapter of 
Genesaa.' John Ilall's 'Courte of Vertue' 
(1564) contains ' Holy and spiritual songs, 
sonnets, psalms, balleti, and short sentences, 
as well of holy scripture aa others.' Again, 
some of Skelt«n's poems are called * Satirical 
Ballads ; ' and a famous poem written in de- 
fence of the Reformation doctrines is called 
'The ballad of Luther, the Pope, a Cardinal, 
and a Unsbandman ' (1550). Long before 
this, John Gower had pitescntcd fifty MS. 
French sonneta to Henry IV.: they were 
called, and are still known as, the' Cinquante 
~ Ballades.' Eighty years later we find Caiton 
applying the designation ' the Ballad Royal ' 
to the measure in which Benedict Brough 
translated Cato's ' Morals,' In more recent 
times we have Warton characterizing as a ' cel- 
ebrated ballad ' the satirical medley of James 
V. of Scotland, entitled ' Christ's Kirk on the 
Green.' This laxity has descended to our 
own day, for we still apply the term ' ballad ' 
indiscriminately to lays and legends, to ro- 
mances and rhapsodies, to love lyrics and 
sentimental songs, and, with least propriety 
of all, to those weakest of all weak produc- 
tions, the nondescript ballads of the modem 
concert room. 

It were rash to conclude that this confu- 
sion is the result of ignorance or caprice. 
It is due mainly to the altered conditions un- 
der which, at different stages in the history 
of thought and of civilization, the same kind 
'or literature with the 
, is produced. There is a 
ndertyiiig the madness or 
ears on the snrface. The 
ich unites and harmonizes 
erse literary prodncts is, 
ealed, though in different 
iling popular sentiment of 
>ne time this eeDtimcot 



might be most easily reached through the 
medium of prose ; at another timb through 
that of verse : at one time by means of sim- 
ple narrative; at another time bytmcans of 
reflection and satire. In one age the sen- , 
timent conaccted itself with civil ^nd social 
afiairs, in another with ecclesiastical and re- 
ligious politics. But in every cast rtic lite- 
rary instrnment employed to qi4cken the 
popular enthusiasm is called t ballad. 
Aad now to this limitation of tht terra to 
popular literature its further restriction to 
poetry, and we shall approach ver} near to 
the modem application of the wqrd. For 
there is a special branch of our po<lical lite- 
rature to which by common consent the name 
ballad expressly belongs — works possessing a 
character aa distinct aa the metrica roman- 
ces or the rhyming chronicles, asl the old 
dramatists or the Lake poets. I 

If, then, equally discarding anciei^ distor- 
tions and modern limitations, we txamiae 
with care that very considerable bodi of our 
poetical literature, on which under tic fami- 
liar name of 'our ballads' we notanreason- 
ably pride ourselves, we shall find itimt it 
possesses three maiu distinguishing r,haroc- 
teristica. These poems are itarTalive'insub- ' 
stance; they arc lyrical in form, arid they , 
arc Iradilionajy in origin. I 

Firtl the true ballad is a narrative-Tioem. 
It tells a connected story. It hm a begin- 
ning, a middle, and an end. It deals with 
stirring events ortouching incidenta. jit ap- 
peals to the popular ear, and goes directly to 
the popnlar heart It commemorate the 
achievemcnta of great warriors or of national 
heroes. Its end was both historical and 

Eractical, and practical in being histftrical. 
or it was the express aim of the ballail not 
merely to interest and amuse tlie people to 
whom it was addressed, not inerely vp ex- 
press the popular estimate of the l(croeH 
whose triumphs it celebrates, but alsot and 
very specially, to hold up these heroes as 
ensamples to be followed, and to inspire the 
auditors with a laudable ambition to eiijulate 
their deeds of prowess, and so to stin|iilate 
popular enthusiasm and national apiKt id 
rude times. Sir Philip Sidney well destfibes 
the efiect of such recitals in kindling the 
heroic spirit when he says, ' I never Heard 
the old song of Percie and Douglas that I 
found not my heart moved more than kvith 
a trumpet' 

The narrative ballad thus presents us with 
heroes and heroines, with lords and ladies, 
with fairies and demigods, — for these were 
credulous times, — or with plain men and wo- 
men of the work-a-day world, in whose fate, 
as in that of the characters of a play, we 
feel the most absorbing interest 



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The SaUad: Its Nature and Literary Affinities. 



\&1A. 

But, in order to mark off the ballad from 
other narmtive poemB, — from poetical roman- 
ce^s rhyming chronicles, and epics of the 
greater sort,— we must add that the ballad 
Umits its subject to a single incident. It is 
timple in its [ilan and action, not complex. 
It t«lU a connected story, but only one story, 
not an interwoven neries of stories, whence it 
follows that the incident which it narrates 
must possess in itself enough of interest and 
body to enable it-to stand by itself as the 
sole subject of a complete poem. 

Steondly, the true ballad is a lyrical 
potim. It was originally composed wiUi the 
special view, not of being read or studied in 
private, but of being recited, chanted, or 
sung before an audience more or less public. 
Of coarse, in determining the nature of the 
ballad, the lyrical feature must be taken in 
connection with the other features mentioned, 
that is to say, while every true ballad is a 
lyric, it does not follow that every lyric is a 
ballad. 

The lyrical character of the ballad was no 
accidental or artificial charm added to it to 
set it off to greater advantage. It was an 
essential condition of its existence in the 
circumstances of its publication. For bal- 
lads are originally the literary products of a 
primitive and unlettered race. They are, in 
a veiy true sense, the nursery rhymes of a 
people. In the nation, aa in the individual, 
the openiog and unsophbticated mind of 
childhood delights in incidents and adven- 
tures ; and it takes the greatest delight in 
these when they arc narrated in the metrical 
form. It lisps in numbers, because numbers 
most . naturally and fitly come. For the old 
ballads we're not at first written down. The 
likelihood is that their authors could not 
write, and that their auditors could not have 
read the ballads if they had been written. 
They were, therefore, composed in the head, 
and committed to memory verse by verse as 
they were composed ; and they were pe- 
rused, in the first instance, and probably for 
generations afterwards, through the ear 
alone. A lyrical form, therefore, would be 
an immense convenience both to the per- 
formers and to the audience. Add to this 
that it was the aim of such primitive pro- 
dnctiong, not merely to afford entertainment, 
but also, and indeed cbieSy, to stir and keep 
alive a senldmcnt of heroism ; and we cannot 
fail to sec that the lyrical form was not only 
a convenience, bat a means of greatly enbanc- 
ingthe influence of the ballad minstrels. 

Though these minstrels and their calling 
latterly fell into disrepute, tbcy have weighty 
claims npon our respect and gratitude. 
They were long the only custodiers of our 
popular literature. We are indebted to 



of our national music, both sacred and pro- 
fane. Before literature became a separate 
and recognised calling, they were the pro- 
fessional authors of their day and generation. 
When books and newspapers were yet un- 
known, they furnished the ' abstract and 
brief chronicle ' of their time. Before 
schools were planted, or schoolmasters wcro 
abroad, they difiiised, not only news, but in- 
telligence in the higher sen^, and were, even 
more than the clergy, the true educators of 
thepeople. 

The minstrels were for long esteemed and" 
rewarded according to their deserts. As they 
made their periodical circuits of the country, 
they were received, in castle and in hamlet, 
with hearty welcome. No picture of me- 
diicval life is moro interesting, or more 
thoroughly characteristjc of the time, than 
that'in which we see the lords and ladies of 
the castle, with their ret^uers and faithful 
hounds, gathered at the close of the day round 
some wandering bard in the great baronial 
hall, while he, sweeping the chords of his 
harp, pours forth his stream of melody, — 
BOW swelling into a tide of triumph as be 
celebrates deeds of derring-do, now sinking 
into soft and -tender cadences, while he re- 
counts some tale of thrilling pathos, or of 
ill-requited lova 

But many a great house bad its own 
special minstrel, as an indispensable and 
welt-paid member of tbe establishment. In- 
deed, one of the chief entertainments of the 
Norman barons was to listen to the romantie 
and martjal adventures of their ancestors, 
recited by their paid minstrels. It seems to 
have been a special perquisite of those ba- 
ronial minstrels, that they were allowed to 
travel to neighbouring monasteries and ' as- 
sist' at their profane entertainments. On such 
occasions their services were not only more 
highly esteemed than those of the clerey by 
the general public, who usually preferred 
amusement to instruction, but they were 
sometimes better remunerated by the clerical 
directors of the entertainments tliemselve«. 
Of this, Warton mentions some curious in- 
stances ; 

' In the year 1430, at the annual feast of tbe 
Ihttemity of the Holig Caosse at Abingdon, a 
town in Berkshire, twelve priests each received 
/our^ieRM for singing a dirge; and thesatne num- 
ber or minstrels were rewarded each with tao 
thUlingi nndfourpeaee, beside diet and horso- 
meat. Some of theKc minstrels came only from 
Maydenhithe, or Sfuidenhead, a town at no 
great distance in the same county. In tbe year 
1441, eight priests were hired from Coventry 
to assist in celebrating a yearly <Ait in the 
church of the neighbouring priory of Mcxtoke ; 



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!l7te SaUad: lis Nature and Literary Affinitiea, 



Jan. 



as were e'lx minRtrels, called Him, belonging to 
ihe ramily of Lord Clinton, who IJvod in the 
adjouiing castle of Maxtoke, to sing, harp, nnd 
pluy, in the hati of the monastery, during the 
extraordinary refection allowed to the monks 
on ihnt anniversary. Tuo thitlingi were g en 
to the priests, and four to the minstrels; and 
the latter are said to have supped in eatnera 
picta, or the painted chamber of the convent, 
with the sub-prior, on which occasion the 
chamberlain furnished eight massy tapers of 

The castom of haviog minstrels attached 
to noble bouses, such as that of Lord Clinton, 
was common amongst the Norman barons, 
'whose retainers included several singers and 
harpers, just as pipers to this day have their 
reco^ised place in the household of a High- 
land chieftain. 

But the reference to the Maidenhead min- 
strels who performed at Abingdon reminds ua 
that in those times every conBiderabletownhad 
il» eorapiemeiit of singers, harpers, tale-tellers, 
and fiddlers, supported out of its revenuca. 
What were the ordioarr or regular entertain. 
ments in which they took part, we do not pre- 
cisely know ; but the services which tliey ren- 
dered on great occasions are often minutely 
recorded. ' It seems,' says Tytler, ' to have 
been the custom in Scotland, as old at least 
as Alexander HI., that when the sovereign 
made his progress tbrouefh the country, min- 
strels and singers received him on his entrance 
into the towns, and accompanied him when 
he took his departure ; and we 6nd Edward 
I., in his triumphal journey through the 
land in 1298, paying certain sums of money 
as a remuneration for the same melodious 
reception.' 

But most highly fairoQred of all were the 
minstrels attacued to the court, both in 
England nnd in Scctland. In the Burgh 
Records of Scotland, quoted by Professor 
Aytonn, no entry ia so common as that of 
payments to iingen and luton, 'at the 
tinge's commande.' These records afford 
onequivocal proof of the high estimation in 
which traditionary poetry and the perfor- 
mances of the minstrels were held in early 
times. But no circumstance attested by 
them is more gratifying than the fact that 
Blind Uarrj', the chronicler of the deeds of 
Wallace, ' who must then,' as Aytonn says, 
' have been in extreme old age, was a regu- 
lar stipendiary of the gallant and nccom- 
plished king, who fell in the midst of Lis 
chivalry, at Floddcn.' ' Whether Bruce 
himself,' sajs Tytler, ' was a proficient in 
music, the favourite accomplishment of 



• Warton'd ' Hislor; of ED;;lish Poetry, from 
the EleveniL to the Seveateeuth Centurjr,' 
•ectltH) iiiv. 



many a knight in those days, i:* not known, 
but he undoubtedly kept his minstrels.' 

At the English court, the institution of 
minstrelsy was still more liberally maintain- 
ed. Henry III. bad not only his royal 
minstrel or j'ocu/a(or, and his harper, but he 
had also in his train a French poet called 
Htnry the Vertijier^ to whom, on several 
occasions, the salary of one hundred shil- 
lings a-year was paid. Then we all know 
the story of Robert Baston, a minstrel 
whom Edward IL took with him to Scot- 
land, to sing his trininph over Brace, but 
who had the misfortune to be taken prboner 
at Bannockbum, when, for his ransom, 
he was compelled, Balaam-like, to bless 
those whom he had come to curse. Rich- 
ard I., himself a noted troubadour, had se- 
veral French minstrels in his pay, of whom 
tradition gives the foremost place to Blon- 
dell, whose voice and harp are said to have 
enchanted his royal roaster out of prison. 

Both the universities and tlie monaateries 
were, for a time at least, amongst the pat- 
rons of minstrelsy. In the fourteenth cen- 
tury we find William of Wykeham enjoin- 
ing the scholars both of New College. Ox- 
ford, and of Wiuchester, to amuse them- 
selves on festival days with songs, and reci- 
tations of chronicles, — with cant'dintm, pot- 
mala, regnorum chronicte, and the mirabilia 
tnundi, — the last a collection of legends 
brought by the crusadere from the East, and 
afterwards worked up into the MervtilUs 
du monde. It seems certain that many of 
the rhymes which the professional minstrels 
hawked about the country, were the produc- 
tion of monks in their leisure hours. Mo- 
nastic libraries abounded in romantic 
rhymes. ' Gny of Warwick ' was written 



by Walter of Exeter, a monk ; why not, 
1, many of the leaser rhymesi A friar 
The \'ision concerning Piers the Plow- 



is said to be much better acquainted 
with the ' Rimes of Robin Hood ' and ' Ran- 
dal of Chester,' than with hia Paternoster. 

But in course of time a change came over 
the spirit of the clerical dream. The clergy 
grew to be jealous of the popularity of the 
minstrels, and of the influence which they 
exercised over the people. And unfortu- 
nately the Church had good reason for- 
putting their rivals under the ban ; for the 
latter yielded only too readily to the temp- 
tations to which they were exposed. They 
were so often associated with scenes of riot 
and excess, that it was not diflicult to at- 
tribute such scenes to the influence of their 
performances. Accordingly the minstrels 
became identified with revelry and dissipa- 
tion. Their calling fell into disrepute. 
They sank lower and lower in the social 



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Tlie Ballad: lit Nature and Literary Affinities. 



Bcale, The noble tcSp (shaper) and m&ker 
dt^encrotcd into the niirtD-caiiaiufr glee- 
man and buffoon. Tbe romantic jongleur 
gave place to tlie handicraft juggler, pure 
and Biraple. And at last, in Qneen Mary's 
Ume, when books aa ivcll as readers be- 
came more common, they were by Act of 
Parliament sobjected to the same penalticB 
as ' rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy fie^ars.' 

It is sad to leave in such company the 
grand old ininstrftls, whose career as a class 
is eacriisted with so many fine poetical and 
historical associations. But this great 
change should not make us foi^t the im- 
portant Eervicea which, in their palmier 
days, they rendered both to national lit«ra- 
tui'e and to national music. It were cer- 
tainly an injustice to their memory were we 
to forget that to their labours we are chiefly 
indebted for the perfecting of the lyrical 
element which is an essential one in the de- 
finition of ballad poetry. 

TJiirdly, tbe traditionary element in bal- 
lad literature — the fact that these poems 
must have floated about for years, some- 
times for generations, before they were fix- 
ed down by the strict laws of literary form 
— is tbe feature which marks off the ballad 
most distinctly from all other forms of po- 
etry. To this circumstance we owe that 
simplicity of thought which indeed was a 
necessary condition of tbe existence of 
works which lived only in the memory, and 
which were perused only by tbe ear. Their 
forcible plamness and directness of lan- 
guage are due to the same cause. Thence, 
also, they derived their representative charac- 
ter; for the trne ballad -was less the expres- 
sion of the feelings of the individual poet, 
than it was the natural outcome of the life and 
thought of the people, blossoming in song. 
This is the secret, too, of the educative power 
of tbe ballads. For long they were the opiy 
means of intellectual culture which the 
mass of the people enjoyed. The minstrels 
were their teachers. They stored their me- 
mories, they trained their minds, they 
moulded their spirits, and discharged a 
function which, in Scotland at least, has 
been performed in later times by the pulpit 
and the pres.i. And this is, no doubt, what 
the ' very wise ' friend of Flet«ber of Sal- 
toun meant when he said, in the trite words 
generally attributed to Saltoun himself — ' if 
a man were permitted to make all the bal- 
lads, he need not care who should make the 
laws of a nation.' 

Such being tbe true nature of the ballad 
— narrative, lyrical, and traditionary — it is 
not wonderful that its origin and early his- 
tory should themselves be matters of tradi- 
tion and inference, rather than of wel1-ae- 



certuned fact Yet it cannot be doubted 
that the ballad has exercised an important 
influence on the development, not only of na- 
tional poetry, but of national literature in all 
its great departments — excepting, of course, 
that of speculation and abstract thought. 

In the flrst place, the ballad is the true 
spring-head of hittorij. It is an acknow- 
ledged fact that the earliest national litera- 
ture of all cornitries has been some kind of 
ballad poetry. It is reasonable, in the na- 
ture of things, that it should have been bo. 
Tliere is, indeed, no fact which modem re- 
search and philosophic criticism have more 
satisfactorily established than this, — that 
tbe streams of authentic history, when 
traced far enough, have tbeir source in re- 
mote uplands, where the head-waters are 
lost in wildering mazes of tradition and ro- 
mance. This is now so well understood, 
and so generally acknowledged, that lie 
statement is a mere commonplace of criti- 
cism. In connection with the early history 
of Rome, this view, promulgated in the last 
centutT by Perizonius, and elaborated more 
recently by Niebuhr, Thirlwall, Maiden, Ar- 
nold, and Mommsen, has been thoroughly 
popularized by Macaulay in his vivid layx, 
which are simply conjectural ballads, — ex- 
amples in modem dress of tbe kind of sto- 
ries which enter so lai^ely into the woof of 
Livy's narrative. 

But the same tbing which is true of the 
early history of the nations of antiquity is 
demonstrably true of the great nations of 
modem Europe, — of England and German 
ny, aa well as of France and Spain. The 
metrical chronicles, often fabulous and in- 
credible, in which their history has its 
springs, abound in romantic incidents, for 
which their writers do not hesitate to avow 
their indebtedness to traditionary and popu- 
lar songs. From the chronicles, these le- 
gends have been transferred bodily to the 
EEiges of such accepted modern historians aa 
[ume ; so that historical critics are forced, 
for example, to deal with many passages in 
the early, ay, and even in the later history 
of England, much as Niebuhr dealt with the 
early history of Rome. There is no doubt 
great temptation to carry this historical 
scepticism too far — a temptation which cri- 
tics of the iconoclastic school find it hard to 
resist. Yet, when every allowance has been 
made, many of the most romantic charac- 
ters and scenes in tbe early history of Eu- 
rope must, with however mnch regret, be 
given up as either wholly or partially mj- 
thical. But if this be so, it may be said 
that tbe traditionary element baa only vitiat- 
ed history, by introducing matter which 
has distorted its aspect and polluted its 



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TAe Ballci/d: Its Xature and JLilerary AffinttUa. 



strearo. True to some extent in the loner 
and literal aense ; very far from true in the 
higher spirit. For these elements, even 
when their fictitious character has been 
most clearly demonstrated, have an histori- 
cal value of their own. Particular facts 
may be quentionable, details may be exag- 
gerated ; but the broad picture is, no doubt, 
easentially true. Moreover, these traditions 
viere history to the people who accepted, and 
cherished them, — all the history they had. 
If they were regarded in no other light than 
as an embodiment of primitive feelings and 
beliefs, as a confession of the historical 
faitJi of mde times, they would be invalua- 
ble to the student of human nature and hu- 
mau thought. Even the scientific historian, 
therefore, may no more is;nore traditionary 
ballads than the geolt^st may ignore the 
mdhiincs and erratic boulders which testify 
to the existence and operation of powerful 
agencies which were at work in prehistoric 

The relations of the Drama to ballad po- 
etry are quite as distinctly marked as those 
of history. We do not refer merely to the 
well-known fact of certain great plays — 
such as 'King Lear' and 'The Mercliant of 
Venice ' — being so far Indebted to earlier 
ballads for their plot or story ; or to such 
confessions as tlicsi of Aeschylus (important 
though they bo) that bis dramas were but 
scraps from the gi-eat feast of Homer. We 
refer to the drama as a distinct institution, 
regarded both as a public performance and 
as a department of poetry. 

Now it is plain that whenever dialogue 
was introduced into the ballads, and when 
the minstrels, in reciting them, set them olf 
by mimicry and action, so as to give indivi- 
duality to the characters of the story, the 
whole performance became a drama in mi- 
niature. And this is precisely what the 
Greek drama was in its earliest stage. Both 
comedy and tragedy had a distinctly lyrical 
origin, in the services connected with the 
worship of Dionysos. At first a mere inter- 
lude, probably for the relief of the chorus 
as much as for the amusement of the au- 
dience, the dramatic performance ultimately 
assumed the first place, and the chorus be- 
came subservient and tributary.' For a time 
the story was appropriately connected with 
the perils and sntferiugs of DionysQs; but it 
soon took a wider range, embracing, as in 
the case of Aeschylos, the groat cycle of 
Hellenic legends. But in the first instance, 
and indeed for long, the performance was 
purely a piece of minstrelsy. The earliest 
plays, both comedies and tragedies, were 
performed or recited by a single actor. Dry- 



Jan. 

den, speaking as a dramatist, puts this well, 
in one of his prologues, when he says : — 
' Thespis, the first professor of our art. 
At country wakes »ung ialladt from a, carl.* 
The cart is admitted to be an anachronism ; 
for the couplet is an adaptation of the well- 
known line of Horace r — 
' Dlcitar ^Iplauitrh veiisBO pocroata Thespis,' — 
in which the Roman poet adopts the error, 
common in his day, of ascribing to Thespis 
the wagon, or moveable scaflbid of Susarion, 
the first comic dramatist Thespis had, no 
doubt, a stable enough stage. Biit what we 
have to notice is the very accurate descrip- 
tion which both Horace and Dryden give of 
what Thespis did — not what he did it on, or 
from. And what he did was to sing ballads. 
Now the claim of Thespis to be considered 
the father of Greek tragedy consists in the 
circumstance that he was tlie first to put a 
separate actor on the stage, in the shape of 
the eiarch or choral leader, who recited his 
story in the intervals of the dithjrambic cho- 
rus. The performance of the earliest Greek 
comedies by an individual actor, already in- 
cidentally referred to, is an equally notorious 
fact of literary history. Now, these single 
actors, in whose representations both comedy 
and tragedy originated, were but ballad min- 
strels of B higher sort, who gave greater ef- 
fect to their recitals by adopting histrionic 

In the history of the drama of modem Eu- 
rope, we are able to note a distinct stage at 
which the religious entertainments that led to 
it were of a purely lyrical and didactic char- 
acter. Before they attuned to a regular dra- 
matic form they consisted of processions and 
set scenes, which were illustrated by lyrical 
recitations of the most striking passages in 
the lives of apostles, patriarchs, and saints. 
Sometimes these songs or sacred ballads were 
introduced in the celebration of the mass : 
sometimes, as in France, in the more qucn- 
tionable spectacles of the Featt of the A»t 
(of Balaam) and the Feast of Fools ; some- 
times, both in France and in England, in the 
festival of the Boy-Bithop. The undoubted 
fact seems to he that, to counteract the in- 
fluence of the minstrels at fairs and festivals, 
the clei^y, jealous of the popularity of their 
rivals, turned actors themselves, and substi- 
tuted for the profane and often ribald enter- 
tainmenlfi of the minstrels, stories from the 
legends of the saints, and from the Bible 
itselft At one time the minstrels were al- 
lowed to entertain the people on Sundays 
with monkish legends, which they sang to the 
harp. But thisalso the clergy by and by took 
into their own hands. There is in the Bri- 



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The BalUtd: Its Nature and Literary Ai^nities. 



1674. 

titih Moscnm a collection of l^;endaiy rhymes, 
which were solemnly recited to the people on 
, Sundays and holidays. Nay, some of the 
oldest extant sermons in the English kngui^ 
are metrical homilies of a distinctly ballad 
character; and this shows, more than any- 
thing else, the extent to wbicli tbe clergy 
both feared and prized the power of min- 
strelsy. Now the cluneal performers, in all 
their services, both dramatic and non-dra- 
matic, were merely ecclesiastical minstrels, 
who found that they could best catch the 
popular ear, and win popular sympathy, by 
throwing the sacred and saintly narratives, 
first into a metrical, and afterwards into a 
dramatic form. 

These views are strikingly corroborated by 
the evidence of language. In the fourteenth 
century the terms tragedy and comedy were 
by no means confined to dramatic poems, 
but were freely applied to metrical narratives. 
Dante's comedies were in no sense dramas. 
With Chancer (see the prologue to the 
' Mont's Tale '). a tragedy is simply a tragic 
story ; and Lydgate characterizes Chaucer's 
own poems as comedies and tragedies. But 
still further, we have it, on the authority of 
Professor Max Mailer, that the name nii»(ei-y 
{improperly written mystery), by which these 
religious plays are known, has no reference 
to anything mysterious or mystical in their 
subject. MiUery, minatrelty, and ministry 
are, in point of fact, radically identical ; and 
their different applications in modem limes 
merely show how widely derivatives from the 
same root may divei^e in meaning in the 
course of ages. All point to the idea of ser- 
vice ; and in truth a minister is but a sacred 
minstrel; a minstrel is only a secular minis- 
ter. 

But it was not only in its earliest stage 
that this ballad character belonged to the 
miracle, or religions play. Even when its 
dramatic fomi^ was fully d(!vel<)ped, it was 
still customary to represent a great part of 
its action by dumb show, and in tableaux vi- 
vanls, while the story itself was recited by a 
single actor or by two or three of the chief 
characters, whose function brings us back 
once more to that of the old ballad minstrel. 

Finally, the Epic is at 6nce the most direct 
and the grandest product of ballad poetrv. 
The ' Epic' is the finished temple, of which 
ballads arc the separate pillars ; the galaxy, 
of which ballads are the single stars of vary- 
ing magnitudes. For unquestionably the 
greatest heroic poems in the world are essen- 
tially concretions of popular poetry, which 
first existed iu the simple ballad form. This 
is true, not only of the Homeric fioems, but 
also of the great national epics of mediteval 
times. Just as the ' Iliad ' is a great body of 



Greek traditionary poetr}^^ — the growth of ages 
— moulded into amajcstic whole by the band 
of genius, so thegreat Norse Eddas and Sagas 
were compiled from still older legendary and 
mythical songs. The ' Elder Edda,' that of 
Saemund, an Icelandic priest, was compiled in 
the beginning of the twelfth century, from the 
most ancient mythological and heroic Scandi- 
navian son^. About a century later the ma- 
terials of tlie younger ' Edda,' that of Snorai, 
himself a Skald by profession, were collcited 
from the same sources. The Icelandic Sagas, 
which form a rich deposit in the literature of 
the Middle Ages, drew their material from the 
current Skaldic songs and national folk-lore;. 
Tbe fine old German epic the ' Niebelung- 
lied,' the oldest MS. of which is assigned to 
the bcf^nning of the thirteenth centnry, was 
a compilation of previously existing songs and 
rhapsodies. The ' Cid Romances in Spain,' 
first published in the sixteenth century, but 
composed much earlier, were taken from an- 
cient national cantares and Castilian jwemo*. 
In like manner the Carlovingiah romances in 
Central Europe, the Arthurian cycle iu Eng- 
land, and the Wallace of Blind Ilany in 
Scotland, are all great political concrctious, 
the elements of ivhich were in every case an 
earlier growth of legends, rhapsodies, and 
songs. 

The elementary ballads and legends, from 
which these epics were built up. Boated about 
— we cannot tell how long — in the minds and 
voices of the people, until there arose min- 
strels of greater genius, of higher art and 
constructive poiver, than their predecessors, 
who conceived the idea of welding these 
transient and isolated fragments into a solid 
whole. Now the great fact for us here is 
that, in nearly every case, the foundation 
ballads, the element^ germs, have entirely 
disappeared. Nor is this an unnatural result 
when it is remembered that, before the era 
of the printing-press, minstrelsy formed the 
very condition of the existence of jKipular 
poetry. Poems which cea*ed to be recited 
or sung, necessarily ceased to be. And when 
the greater epics came, in course of time, to 
form the stock in trade of the minstreU, it 
was inevitable that the minor epics — the bal- 
lads — should be forgotten. 

It thus seetns to be a fixed law of tradi- 
tionary literature that, when ballads came to 
be absorbed in epics and romances, tbey 
thereby sacrificed their individual and inde- 
pendent existence. We find their remains 
embedded, as it were, in a fossil slate, in the 
great stratum of mediieval poetry ; but as 
separate and living organisms they no longer 
exist We have abundant evidence, both 
historical and traditional, that tbey did exist. 
Nay, the exact counterparts of legends which 



7%« Ballad: lis Nature and Literary AffinUiea. 



Jan. 



liave been ewallowed up in the epic poetry of 

one country, retain their eeparate individu- 
ality in another. The Danish ballaiis, the 
famous ' Kaempe Viser,' which form the 
richest bequest of medieeval folk-lore, are an 
exception to the general law of absorption. 
Developed by a long course of oral transmis- 
sion, and collected in the fourteenth centnry, 
they Lave descended to us in their virgin 
balkd form. But we find in these simple 
ballads some of the identical legends which 
are woven into (he Lay of the NiebelungH ; 
from which we waminlabiy infer that tliey 
once existed as ballads in Germany also. 
This is a remarkable case of the exception 
proving tlie rule. Nothing, surely, could bet- 
ter bring out In bold relief the fact on which 
we arc insisting, that national epics are a 
proof of the previous existence of national 
ballads. The epics and romances in which 
the ballads have been absorbed cannot, in 
strict propriety, be called ballads; but they 
retain, amid their complexity and prolixity, 
enough of the flavour and spirit of tradition- 
ary poetry to bear witness to' their ballad 

But it may be asked, if this law of absorp- 
tion holds good, whence have we derived the 
important body of ballad poetry which forms 
one of the boasted treasures of our modern 
literature ) 

Now in this country, as in others, when 
the earlier romance epoch passed away, a 
new ballad epoch btgan, which was in- 
debted for much of its material to the ro- 
mances which it superseded. The roman- 
ces were composed for, and addressed to, 
the great and coble ; but when the progres- 
sion of literature provided that class with 
more, pennanent works, in the shape of 
regular dramas and epics, and systematic 
histories, there still remained a large un- 
lettered class of the community to whom 
the inheritance of oral poetry naturally de- 
scended. Elaborate romances did not suit 
their tastes. They demanded, as their sim- 
ple forefathers had done, brief and pithy 
narratives. The minstrels, whoso duty it 
was to cater for them, had to find material 
to satisfy their tastes. They found a con- 
venient store-house, full of the richest mate- 
rial, in the more elaborate romances. Thus 
it came to pass that the long poems, which 
had in the first instance been built up out of 
balladri, were, for the benefit of the common 
people, broken down into ballads again. 
And in point of fact not a few of our oldest 
ballads, a;id of these some of the moat strik- 
ing, are but chips of ancient and well-worn 
metrical romances. The well-known ballad 
of ' llynde Horn,' for example, is but a para- 
phn»e of part of the older romance or gest 



of ' King Horn,' which was itself, beyond 
question, a concoction of still older ballads 
and legends. But it is not necessary to ac- 
count for all our ballads on this principle. 
It is EuQicient for our purpose to sliow that 
some have originated in this way; others 
were, undoubtedly, handed down in the 
lyrical form from earlier times, others were 
transplanted from foreign countries. Bui 
many, perhaps the mo^ and best of those 
which we now have, owe their origin to the 
fact that in our country in comparatively 
recent times the circumstances which tend 
to call fortii a body of traditionary poetry 
arose with irresistible power. These cir- 
cumstances were the craving for litcrar}' ex- 
citement in the common people, combined 
with the absence of culture aud the power 
of lit«rary appreciation, and the natural de- 
sire to glorify national and local heroes in 
popular verse. The same conditions which 
made. ballad poetry a necessity in the ninth 
and tenth centuries, called it forth again in 
England and Scotland in the fifteenth anil 
sixteenth. Some of the Rohin Hood bal- 
lads were amongst the earliest productions 
of the English printing-press. ' Chevy 
Chase' was an 'old ballad' in Sir I'hilip 
Sidney's time ; other ballads are echoed bv 
snatches in Shakespeare and our old dra- 
matists. But the great mass of our exist- 
ing ballad literature cannot be traced further 
back than the fifteenth or the sixteenth cen- 
tury, which constitutes for us thespecial ballad 
epoch in our modem literature. When the 
old chronicles and romances gave place to 
the historical drama and the regular epic in 
one direction — that of literary culture, they 
were superseded by ballad minstrelsy in 
another direction — that of popular poetry. 
And the great fact to which our an^ument 
leads up is, that the mass of our extant bal- 
lad literature, which the labours of Bishop 
Percy and of Sir Walter Scott rescued from 
oblivion in the end of the last and the be- 
ginning of the present century, forms a 
later deposit, a tertiary stratum, which illus- 
trates the life of comparatively recent and 
strictly historic times. Though purely oral 
compositions, living only in the hearts and 
memories of the people, they . belong to a 
period contemporaneous with the methodi- 
cal productions of Uterarv art in every de- 
partment of human thought. Not only 
while Gower and Chaucer were committing 
their thoughts that breathed to perishable 
parchment, not only while the works of 
Spenser and Shakespeare, of Milton and 
Bacon, were being innltiplied by the print- 
ing press ; but after Dryden and Pope had 
given the keenest polish to English diction 
and versification, there was still floating 

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1874. 



JRfl Sallad : lis future and Literary A^nities, 



about freely in the intellectaa] atmosphere 
of this country a frrcat body of traditionary 
poetry, not destined to be cauglit up or fixed 
down by the hard and fust conoitions of 
literary art for many years afterwards. 

For it is an important fact that onr mo- 
dem collections of ballads date only front 
the last century. A few uersions of fugi- 
tive ballads had been included, along with 
modem material, in poetical miscellanies 
much earlier — in 'Wit Restored,' ii 1658, 
and in Pryden's ' Miscellany Poems ' in 
1684. But the earlicHt systematic editions 
of popular poetry are ' A Collection of Old 
Bailadn,' published in London between 1723 
and 1738, and the 'Evei^crecn' of Allan 
Ramsay, published in Edinbui-gb in 1724. 
The two men, however, to whom we are 
chiefly indebted for recovering and pre- 
serving the rarest gems of our ballad poetry 
are Bishop Percy, whose 'Rcliques of An- 
cient English Poetry' was first published in 
1765, and Sir Walter Scott, whose two vol- 
umes of the 'Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
Border' appeared in 1802 and 1803 respec- 
tively. Wo may obtain some idea of the 
value of Scott's services in this department 
of literature from the fact tliat the ' Min- 
Btrelsy ' conjAins as many as forty ballads 
which had never before been takeu down in 
writing, or published to the world. The 
rich field, in which Percy and Scott iniy be 
said first to have broken groun<l, has been 
extensively and profitably worked by enthu- 
siastic labourers since their time. It would 
be unfair, in speaking of Scott's own labours 
In the ballad field, to ignore the valuable as- 
sistance which was willingly rendered to 
him by John Lejden, the gifted author of 
'Scenes of Infancy.' Since the appearance 
of the ' Minstrelsy,' the collecting and edit- 
ing of ballads, especially of Scottish ballads, 
has been the pet work of literary antiqua- 
ries. Wc can do no more here than refer 
in passing, but with grateful acknowledg- 
ments, to the labours of such men as Jamie- 
son, Bird and Bucban, David I/iiuff and 
Robert Chambers, Fin lay and Kinloch, 
Sharpe and Mnidmcat, Johnson and Mother- 
well, and last, though not least, William 
Edmondstoune Aytoun, to whose fine lite- 
rary instinct and critical acumen wc owe the 
purest and most perfect collection we pos- 
sess of the ballads of Scotland. 

Tlie labours of Perey and Scott, it should 
not be forgotten, had a much wider bearing 
than that to which we have now referred. 
Tlicy exereised a most important influence 
in reviving that taste for genuine natural 
poetry, which forms the cliief intellectual 
characteristic of the present century, and 
which eitcnded itself to every department 



of literature and art. From the appearance 
of Percy's ' Reliqnes ' we are bound to date 
the recoil in the last generation from the 
cold formality which bad characterized the 
poetry and thought of the preceding age. 
The impetus which Perey's labours gave to 
the poetical genius and taste of Scott b well 
known. The testimony of Wordsworth, 
the great apostle of the new poetic faith, is 
express and unequivocal. ' 1 do not think,' 
he sayf, ' that there is one able writer in 
verse at the present day who would net be 
pniud to acknowledge his oblififatious iA the 
" Reiiques." I know it is so with my 
friends [among whom Coleridge anA Sou- 
they wore conspicuous], and for myself,' he 
adds, ' I am happy to make a public avowal 
of my own.' In this admission we may dis- 
cover one of the reasons which led \\ ords- 
worth and Coleridge to call the poems which 
they produced jointly at an early stage in 
their career 'lyrical ballads,' though the 
tide involves sometiiing of a cross division : 
for all true ballads, as we have endeavour- 
ed to show, must be lyrical. But it is in- 
teresting, as it is valuable, to have re- 
ceived from the most philosophical of mo- 
dern poets this testimony to the ballad 
origin of soiue at least of the features which 
characterize the modem school of poetry. 
As culture and intellectual rcfipement ad- 
vance, the poet, wedded to his art, is ever 
prone to set himself above Nature, and to 
prefer his own wisdom to her mother-wit. 
But poetry, like history, of which it is the 
flower and the fmit, has n happy knack of 
repeating itself. And if it be true, as it un- 
doubtedly is, that the poetry of our time 
owes both its strength and its sweetness to 
a rekindled allegiance to the nursing bosom 
of Nature, which, in spite of the vagaries of 
her prodigal sons, is ever one and the same, 
we owe this result, more perhaps than is 
generally recognised, to the iuflucnce of 
ballad poetrj*. 

The historical ballad attained its highest 
perfection in those countries in which the 
chivalrous spirit was most fully developed — 
in England, Scotland, and Germany amongst 
northern nations, and in ^paln amongst 
those of the south. In France, and Italy, 
on the other hand, where chivalry was trans- 
formed into artificial knight-crrantrv and 
the fanciful championship of beauty, 
the national minstrulsy either assumed the 
form of passionate love songs, or degenerat- 
ed int« tedious jirose romances. It is only 
where martial ardour is ennobled by national 
enthusiasm that scope is found for pure and 
healthy ballad poetry. 

But it must be admitted that the histori- 
cal ballads which have come down to us are not 



The llallad: Its Nature and Literary A^uliea. 



10 

poetically tlie best ^pccimena of their kind, 
at leaat, when judired by the canons of mo- 
dem criticiam. They are often tiresome 
from panful minuteness of detail. They 
are generally long, and Bometimea dull. 
Eurely poetical ideas in tliera are as a rule 
' few and far between.' Their charm lies id 
their rough and ready vigour in the active 
scenes, relieved by dashes of quaint humour, 
and touches of melting pathos. 

One old English ballad, quoted In Evans's 
collection, from the ' Garland of Delight,' 
dwells with a zcet which there is no effort 
made to coDceal, on the achievement of 
Lord Mayor Walworth, in stabbing Wat 
Tyler to the heart. In like manner battle 
scenes arc favourite subjects with the Scot- 
tish historical muse, from 'The Battle of 
Otterbourne,' in the fourteenth, to ' The 
' Battle of Bothwell Bridge,' in the seven- 
teenth century ; and nothing seems to in- 
spire the m&ker so thoroughly as the intoxi- 
cation of blood. Indeed these old Scottish 
heroic ballads glory in slaughter in a way 
that shocks the sen^hility of modern times. 
It was evidently a good joke to describe how 
a Percy was spitted so perfectly that the 
spear protruded from his back, ' a large 
cloth yard, and more.' In the same ballad 
we read how 
' The Percy and Mon^mcry met, 

That either of other was fain ; 
They swakkit swords, and sore they swat, 

And the blood ran down between.' 
Such passi^^ given with proper offect, 
could not fail to 'bring down the house,' in 
times when bloodshed was still regarded by 
most men as the great business of life. 
Yet there mingle strangely with these exhi- 
bitions of grim, ferocious humour, touches 
of the finest pathos, and hearty recognitions 
of knightly courtesy. Such, for example, is 
the scene in which the victorious Percy 
mourns over his fallen foe, on Cheviot 
ride: — 

' The Percy loaned on his brand, 
And saw the Douglas dee : 
He took the dead man by the hand. 
And said : " Wac's me for thee : 

' "To save thy life, I'd have parted with 
My lands for yearils three ; 
For a better man. of head nor hand. 
Was not in all the North countrie." ' 



' Of Wilherington my heart was wae, 
That ever he slain should be ; 
For, when both hi-i legs had been hewn in twa, 
He kneeled and fought on bis knee.' 

And very fine and solemn is the minstrel's 



' So on the morrow they made them biers, 

Of birch and hazel so gray ; 
Many widows with weeping tears 
Came to fetch theb makes away.' 

Here, surely, if anywhere, we have the 
■ touch of nature which makes the whole 
world kin ' ! 

The Scottish version of 'The Battle of 
Otterbourne, is remarkable, as containing an 
element of superstition similar to that 
which we find in many of our legendary 
ballads. Douglas is mortally wounded ; but 
with hia last breath he orders the fight to be 
continued till the old prophecy should be 
fulfilled, that 'a dead Douglas tihould win a 
field,' ThiH touched upon a favourite su- 
perstition of the times, which the minstrels 
of all countries did not fail to turn to ac- 
count. It was obviously intended, not 
merely to divest the last enemy of some of 
his terrors, but also to invest the circumstance 
of death on the battle-field with a special 
glory. Thus in the last victory gained by 
the Cid Campeador, on the plains of Valen- 
cia, his corpse, clad in panoply, was bound 
to his ehai^er, and led to the front, between 
two valiant knights; and the' Moors, we 
are told, were so appalled by the apparition," 
that they turned and fied. But in tlie case 
of the ' dead Douglas,' at Otterbourne, the 
narrative is more picturesque and circum- 
stantial. Before the battle began he is rep- 
resented as saying to his faithful page : 

' But I have dreamed a dreary dream, 
Beyond the Isle of Skye ; 
I saw a dead man win a Bght, 
And I think that man was I.' 

When struck down, he says to Montgo- 
merie, bis nephew : — 

'My wound is deep ; Tfain would sleep : 
Take thou the vanguard of the three ; 
And bury me by the bracken bush. 
That grows on yonder lily lea.' 

So, when Percy, in turn, is struck down, 
and asks to whom he must yield, iMontgo- 
merie replies : — 

' Thou shalt not yield to lord or loun. 

Nor yet shalt thou yield to mo ; 

But yield thee to the bracken bush 

That grows on yonder Hly lea.' 

Into the early English historical ballads, or 
ballads with a historical basis, there were 
frequently imported satirical- elements, 
which made them less ballads, in the strict 
sense, than political songs. Warton* quotes 



• ■ History of English Poetry,' , 



TAe Sailad: Its Xature and Literary Affinities. 



1874. 

an excellent Bpecimen of lliia claaa of poemsf 
in which a partisan of Simon de Montfort 
casts unmeaBured ridicule on Richard, King 
of the Romans (' Richard of Alemaignc '), 
brother of Henry III., who was taken 
prisoner along with the latter at the battle 
of Lewes (1264). So cfTective was the hu- 
mour of this ballad or song, that it is be- 
lieved to liave occasioned a statute against 
libels in the year 1375, under the title, 
'Against Slanderous Reports, or Tales to 
cause Discord betwixt King and People,' 
'About the*resent era,' says Warton, 'we 
meet with a ballad complaining of the ex- 
orbitant fees extorted, and tiie numerous 
taxes levied, by the Icing's officer?.' A 
little later (1306) there is a similar effusion 
complaining bitterly of the conduct of the 
justices appointed by Edward I. to carry on 
the govemroent during hla absence in the 
French and Scottish wars. In the reign of 
Henry VI., in the next century, a satirical 
ballad, commenting sCTerely on lije proceed- 
ings of the king and his counsellors, then 
sitting in Parliament, was stuck on the gates 
of the royal palace. Of the same nature 
were the scurrilous songs which held up 
'Old Noir to ridicule in the time of the 
civil war. The Revolutionbad its triumphant, 
but now meaningless ' Lillibulero.' The 
Scottish Rebellion in the eighteenth century 
called forth a host of vigorous Jacobite 
songs. . But these productions, though they 
owe iheir existence in some measure to the 
same circumstances which, in less sophisti- 
cated times, gave rise to genuine ballads, do 
not, any more than the Corn-laws thymes of 
Ebenezer Elliot in the present century, be- 
long in any proper sense to ballad literature. 
They are chiefly interesting as showing how, 
when intellectual culture spreads, popular 
feeling seeks out new and more reflective 
chnDncls through which to express itself. 

A considerable section of our national 
ballads, both English and Scottish, relates 
to outlawry and freehooting life. This can 
hardly bo surprising when we remember 
how unsettled society was in both divisions 
of the island during the fourteenth and 
fifteenth centuries especially, and on the 
border-land between the two countries at a 
still later period. The mode of life of the 
freebooters, combining in a marked degree 
the elements of lawless a^d defiant danger 
on the one hand, and free^ianded liberality 
on the other, presented features of romance 
which invited poetical treatment. To this 
class, indeed, belong the best of the old En- 
glish ballads — those, namely, which treat of 
the career and exploits of Robin Hood and 
Little John, and Will Scarlet and Friar 
Tuck, and Uie other meny men who dwelt, 



as their wits could beat devise, under the 
greenwood in Sherwood Forest. The Ro- 
bin llood of the ballads, at least, can no 
longer be regarded as a historical personage ; 
hut it is remarkable that bis name has been 
far more popular with the English peasantry 
than the names of many real heroes. The 
reason of this is, that his career was typical 
of a popular cause — to wit, that resistance 
to the severe and unjust forest-laws, which, 
long after the distinction of Norman and 
Englbhman was forgotten, kept up the old 
jenloiisy between the nobility and the com- 
mon people. By the common people Robin 
Hood was unquestionably regarded as a real 
personage — as their hero and champion. 
And he was as great a favourite on the 
north of the Tweed as on the south. There 
is a genuine old Scottish ballad, detailing 
the story of his noble birth ; and ' The I'lay 
of Robin Hood ' waa a favoarite pastime at 
the annual sports of many Scottish biii^hs 
until tlie end of the sixteenth century, when 
it fell under the ban of the General Assem- 
bly of the Kirk. Every reader of Scott re- 
members how effectively it is introduced in 
the Stirlint; sports described in the Fifth 
canto of ' The Lady of the Lake.' He was 
a great favourite, too, with the minstrelp, 
who have adorned his character with all 
heroic and gentle attributes. But the great 
number of the ballads in which he figures — ■ 
between Jhirty and forty, and these of very 
unequal interest and merit — seems to coun- 
tenance the theory that every law-defying 
adventure in the, forest, real or imaginable, 
waa fathered upon Robin; and that 'Robin 
Hood ' became a kind of generic name for 
daring freebooters and outlaws. 

The Border land, both English and Scot- 
tish, was the favourite haunt of marauding 
bands down till comparatively recent times. 
No doubt international jealousy tended to 
perpetuate this state of matters, and to ob- 
tain for it B kind of semi-official sanction ; 
for the ' raids ' were regarded as quite legi- 
timate BO long aa they were made by either 
party on the other side of the Border, and 
were conducted in conformity with ' the truce 
of Bordertide.' 

On either side there was a Lord of the 
Marches, to whose judgment doubtful cases 
were appealed, and who not only sanctioned, 
but often led, the predatory inroads. The 
Scotts of Buccleuch, on the north of the Bor- 
der, had their counterparts in the Lord 
Scroops and false Sulkelds on the south. If 
England had iu Clym o' the Clongb and 
William of a.iudcsley, Scotland had Ita 
Johnnie Armstrong aud Kinmount Willie, 
ita Jock o' the Side and Jamie Tclfer, and 
a host of others. For tho Scottieb leavers 



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12 



TRe SaUad: It* Xiiture and Literary Affinities. 



were both more namerons and more daring 
than their Ei)gligb rivala, to which the fact 
is, no doubt, in great measure owing that 
Scottiali Bonier ballade of this clans arc 
superior, not in number merely, bat also in 
merit, to those of England. 

ITie great mass of the Border ballads arc 
coimected, directly or indirectly, with the 
lives and deeds cf adrentaroue freebooters, 
J who lived by IcTyinc black-mail upon their 
weaker neighbours. Plunder was the avowed 
profession of those men. Of John Arm- 
Etrong, the laird of Gilnoekic, it is the 
minstrel's boast that, though 



'He hss no lands, nor rcnt^ c- 

He keeps eigbt-scoro men i 



Ills hail. 



He hns horse and iisrness for tbem all — 
Goodly steeds tli«t bo mtlk-irbite ; 

And ^nodly belts about their necks. 
With bats and feathers all alike.' 

Their whole life was a well-planned system 
of petty wclfare^a prolonged struggle for 
existence — in which 

'The good old rule 
Sufficed thcm—tiie mmple plan. 
That they should take who had the power, 
And they should keep wbo can.' 

This was their creed ; yet there was method 
in the mad lawlessness of these marauders. 
There was honour unong these Border 
thieves. One of them could boaalj with his 
last breath, on the gallows — 



Their conception of honesty, h 

sisted in a loyal and profitable adherence to 

the lex lalionix. They held that they niight 

do as they were done by, with impunity. 

Lord Scroop says to Dick o' the (low, a 

noted Cumberland reaver ; — 

' I give thee leave, my honest fool — 

Thou spoak'st against my honour and me ; 
Unless thou gio ine tby troth and thy hand, 

Xbou'lt steal from none but who stole from 

And Dick replies: — 

' Tliere's my trowth and my riglit hand — 

My bead shall hnng on llarlbicc, 
I'll ne'er cross Carlisle $ands i^in 

If I iiteal frae a man but nha stole frae me.' 



la tbe same spirit Johni 
boasted ti> the King : — 



Armstrong 



' Elngland should harefound mo meat and maul 
Gif I had lived this hundred year : 

She should hav.c found me meat and mault, 
And beufnnd mutton in all plenlic ; 

But ne'er s Scot's wife could have said, 
That e'er I skaiUied her a poor flee.' 



Sueh strokes of humour arc frequent in 
the ballads of plundering warfare. 'Kin- 

inont Willie ' for example is full of them. 
But no less common are touches of the 
finest pathos. What, for instance, could be 
finer tlian these stanaas from ' £dom o' Gor- 
don,' in which tbe fate of the little daughter 
of the eastle, to which Edom has set fire, is 
described : — 

' They rolled her in a pair of sbcett:. 
And dropped her o'er the nail ; 
But on the point ot Gordon's spear 
She got a dendly fall. 

bonny, bonny was her mouth, 
And cherry were her elieeks. 

And elenr, clear was her yellow hair, 
Whereon the red blood dreep^'. 

Then with his spear he turned her o'er ; 

0, but her face was wan ! 
He said, " You are the Hrst that e'er 

I wished alive agiun." 

He turned her o'er, and o'er again ; 

O, but her skin was white 1 
" I might have spared that bonny face. 

To have been Kome man's delight. 

" Busk and boune, my merry men ill. 
For ill dooms I do guess; 

1 canna look on that bonny (ace 
As it lies on the grass." ' 

Students of Scottish ballad poetrj' are 
aware that ' Edoiu o' Gordon ' is one of tlic 
romantic scries condemned as spurious imi- 
tations by the late Dr. Uobert Chambers. 
Himself an able and appreciative editor of 
ballads in his earlier years (1829), he pub- 
lished, when advanced in life, an elaborate 
argument* to prove that many of our best 
romantic ballads, ineiuding ' Sir Patrick 
Spens,' ' Gil Morrice,' ' Young Waters,' ' The 
Douglas Tragedy,' and some twenty others, 
were written by Lady Wardlaw, of Pitreavie, 
who died in 1727. The foundation of his 
argument is the fact that ' Hardy Knut,' 
which was published professedly as an old 
ballad in 1719, and in which the style and dic- 
tion of the traditionarj- ballads arc very skil- 
fully imitated, was subsequently acknowledg- 
ed to be the composition of Lady Wardlaw. 
lie finds that the versions of many of these 
ballads given by I'ercy, through whom they 
were first published, rest upon no ancient 
manuscript authority, hut were printed ' from 
a manuscript cop^ sent out from Scotland,' or, 
'from a written copy that appears to havo 
received some modern corrections,' or ' as it 
was preserved in the memory of a lady that 
is now dead.' Suspicion being thus aroused, 



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ITie JJallad: Its Nature and Literary A^nitus. 



1874. 

lie proceeds to compare these balUda with 
one another, and with the avowedly spurious 
' Hardy Knut ; ' and be fiods so many points 
of resemblance, both in plan of treatment 
and ill turn of expression, that he is forced 
to assign the whole of thia remarkable body 
of romantic literature to Lady Wardlaw a 
single pen. 

The whole of the evidence on which Dr. 
Chambers bases bis case reduces itself to 
two points, — the absence of ancient manu- 
script authority, and the alleged coincidences 
of thought and expression observed in the 
ballfids. 

To the former ground very little weight 
can be attached. It is of the nature and es- 
sence of a national ballad to be traditionary. 
As soon as it is committed to mannacript, or 
to type, its traditionarj* career la cut short, 
and it becomes a part of regular literature. 
In the history of every traditionary ballad 
there must have been a time when it was 
first committed to manuscript, and if that 
time was recent, it is impossible that any 
'ancient manuscript' can bo appealed to. 
The fact has already been mentioned that in 
Scott's ' Minstrelsy ' there are upwards of 
thirty Iwllads which had never before been 
published, but which he and Leydon and 
other friends ferreted out and wrote down in 
the course of their 'border raids.' Now, 
when Scott wrote a ballad, — and he wrote 
many, — he always took the credit of it. He 
never attemplcd to conceal his authorship of 
' Glenfintas, or * The Massacre of Gtencoe,' 
or 'The Eve of S(. John,' or 'The Gray 
Brother,' Leyden, in like manner, acknow- 
ledged himself the author of ' The Meraiaid ' 
and ' Lord Soulis,' and other ballads. But 
there was never a whispered doubt of the 
genuineness of ' Jamie Telfer ' or ' Kinmont 
Willie,' of the ' Cruel Sister ' or the ' Demon 
Lover,' of the ' Dowie Dens o' Yarrow ' or 
'the Wife of Usher's Well,' or of a host of 
others which Scott first gave to the world. 
Yet there were no ' ancient raanascripU ' of 
these poems. If there had been, the proba- 
bility is that their first publication would 
not have been reserved for Scott 

The mere absence of ' ancient manu- 
script' authority therefore is in itself no 
sufficient ground for questioning the genuine 
antiquity of ballads taken down and pub- 
lished at a still later date than that of those 
which I>r, Charabera impeaches. 

A better proof of antiquity than that of 
manuscript authority is the existence in dif- 
ferent districts of different versions of the 
same ballad. Now this is the case with what 
Dr. Chamhers calls the romantic, but what is 
more correctly called the historical ballad of 
' Sir Patrick Spence/^' When Percy first 



13 



printed this ballad, in 1765, 'from Iteo MSS. 
copies transihittod from Scotland,' it con- 
tained only eleven stanzas. When Scott re- 
produced it in 1802, he was able to add at 
least ten new stanzas, obtained from indepen- 
dent dictation. In 1806 Robert Jumicaon 
published another version of the i^ame balla<l 
in eighteen stanzas, and in 1838 yet another 
version was produced by Peter Buchan com- 
prising twenty-nine alanaaa. The remark- ^ 
able fact to be noticed in connection with 
these different veraioua of ' Sir Patrick 
Spence' i.*, that no one stanza in the ver- 
sions of Jamieson and Buchan is exactly the 
same as, or exactly corresponds with, the 
combined version of Percy and Scott. 
Now this IB precisely what would occur, — 
what occurs over and over again,— in the 
case of traditionary ballads. And this is a 
crucial lest. For as Mr. Norval Clync well 
remarks — 

' " Sir Patrick" is the comer stone of the 
structure raised by Mr. Chambers. If he has 
failed to prove, or show reasonable erounds for 
lielievinB, that the author of " Hardy Knut " 
and " Sir Patrick Bpenco" was one and the 
same person, or that the latter poem is a pro- 
duction of the eighteenth century, the whole of 
his precarious edifice comes to i be ground, a 
baseless fabric. He dwells strongly on points 
of resemblance between the several ballads in 
dispute, and argues somewhat in this fashion : 
Number one has expressions similar to those in 
"Hardy Knut;" number (wo contains lines or 
words wonderfully like some in numbemne; 
number three has, in a similar way, a resem- 
blance to numbers me and tieo ; and so forth 
through the whole twenty-five piecea. Take 
away number one. therefore, to wit, "Sir 
Patrick Spence." and Mr. Cliambers's logic, un- 
sound enough before, becomes too defective to 
be mentioned with gravity.'" 

This leaves the point in dispute, theiefore, 
to he determined solely by internal evidence ; 
that is, by a comparison of the ballads whose 
genuineness is doubted with one another, and 
with ' Hardy Knut,' whoso modero author- 
ship is unquesUonable. Now, here it should 
be noted that, considering the nature of tra- 
ditionary poetry, considering especially the 
manner in which nccctaarily it is prapagatcd 
and conserved, mere coincidences of expres- 
sion and treatment afford in themselves no 
reliable proof of identity of origin. Wefind 
not merely phrases, not merely lines, bnt 
whole stanzas freely interchanged, with but 
sbght variations, in balladt the aotiquity of 



"Mr. Clyne's broclmre is a sy at emu tie and 
exceedingly able and conviaeinf reply to Dr. 
Cliambers's paper. Apart from tlie ^neral ar- 
Kument, it dlspciaes innst succetiariilly uf tiie ver- 
bal coincidencea on wldcli Dr. Cliainbera laid so 
much weight. 



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73i« BaUad: Its Nature aiid Literary Acuities. 



' drappiog' 
' cold, ' Boa* 



which is beyond the roach of question. Dr. 
Chnmbers's argumeot phjves too ikiucb. For 
there are uuraeroas expreseioDs in b^lads 
the genuineness of which he did not dtspnte, 
which bear the closest affinity to, nay which 
are identical with, expressions in tlic balUda 
which he condemned as spurious. 

Further, it happens uofortanately for Dr. 
Chambers's argument, that ' Hardy ICnnt ' is 
^ admitted on all hands to he immeasurably 
" inferior as a poem to the ballads with which 
he eiprcssly compares it. He himself refers 
several tiraes to the 'stiff and somewhat 
puerile ' manner of that poem. There are 
many lines, eren in the parts of ' Uardy 
Knut ' which he has quoted, which have a 
distinctly modem flavour. Such lines as — 

' With noble chiefs in brave array ; ' — 
* Full twenty thousand glittering spears 

Tha King of Norse commands ;' — 
' Kind chieftain, your intent pursue ; ' — 
'But soon beneath some drapping tree 

Cauld death shall end niy care,' — 
' Ne'er to return to native land, 

Nae mair, with blithesome sounds, 
To boast the glories of the day, 
Andshaw their shining wounds.' 
Such lines as these, we say, in spite of 
for ' dropping,' ' cauld ' for 
iKaw ' for 'show' and ' larg ' for 
' long,' betray at once their modem cast of 
thought There is nothing specially ballad- 
like about them, and nothing speiTially poeti- 
cal. They mi^ht have appeared in any 
commonplace eighteenth century poem. 
Now we find no snch commonplace raodom 
lines, no such feeble expressions, as those 
quoted above, in the other ballads whose 
genuineness Is impeached. 

PeculLiritJes of grammatical construction 
form a better test of authorship than simi- 
larities of expression, or even of treatment 
' Hardy Knut ' is free from such singularities, 
from first to last But in the first six stan- 
zas of ' Sir Patrick Speuce ' there occnra 
three times an idiom so peculiar that, to 
have been used so frequently, it must have 
been an idiosyncrasy of the author ; and, 
supposing 'Hardy Knut' to have been the 
production of the same hand, it b hardly 

nssible that that band conid have written bo 
ig a Ppem without introducing it once at 
least. The peculiarity to which we refer is 
the omission of the I'elative In the nomina- 
tive case. We find this in the second 
stanza: — 

'Up and spak an cidem Knight 
( Who) silt at the king's right knee.' 
We find a curious repetition of it in the third 

' And sent it to Sir Patrick Spcnco 
( Who) was walking on the sand.' 



And we find it again in the sixtli stanza :- 



Now this is no ordinary ellipsis. The omis- 
sion of the relative in the objective case is 
common enough; but the omission of the 
subject relative is very rare. In fact, aa an 
idiom, it is peculiar to Shakespeare and the 
writers of the sirteenth century, who, like 
him, adopted an excessively condensed style 
of diction. At the same time it Ja not a 
peculiarity which is likely to have been 
adopted by any one of set purpose. No one 
but a professed anatomist of language could 
be expected to take note of such n singularity. 
It is an unconscious idiom, and its frequent 
nse indicates a mind fond of compression 
and ellipsis. So peculiar, or as the Scots say 
BO " kenspeckle,' a mark is it that, if it had 
been found but once In ' Hardy Knut,' wo 
should have acknowledged that as itself a 
weighty argument in support of Dr. Cham- 
bers's view. But as it does not occur onca 
there, we regard its absence as an eqnally 
weighty argument on the other side. 

The same may be said, with nearly as 
much force, of another peculiar conatniclion 
which we have in ' Sir Patrick Spence,' but 
for which we shall look in vain in ' Hardy 
Knut.' This time it is not ellipsis but redun- 
dancy, and a redundancy which is common 
in the older ballads. It consists in the un- 
necessary use of a pronoun to mark an ob- 
ject or person already specified. This occurs 
several times in ' Sir Patrick Spence ' in' 
Hucb familinr forms as — 

' The King's daughter of Norway, 
'TIS thou mami bring her ham&' 

Now since these inward and more subtle 
peculiarities of the style of ' Sir Patrick 
Spence ' are totally absent from < Hardy 
Knut,' the question occurs : May not the 
outward and mcrelv verbal coincidences, 
on which so much stress is laid, be account- 
ed for in another way f There is oue lino 
the same in both ballads — 

' Drinking the blnde-red wine ;" 

end a lino very like this may be found in 
many other ballads. But is this a sufficient 
reason for assigning both ballads to the same 
author ) Is it not far more probable that the 
author of 'Hardy Knut' unconsciously ap- 
propriated the line from the other and older 
ballad ! ' It mnsl be acknowledged that Lady 
Wardlaw could not have written * Hardy 
Knut,' even with all its imperfections, unless 
she had previously filled her mind with bal- 
lad lore. The very task she set herself in 
that case — to write a mock-antique ballad — 



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3%e BaUad: Ita Nature and Literary Affinitkt. 



1874. 

required her to school hcntelf in the peca- 
liaxitiesof ballad diction. It is far more 
probable, therefore, that ' Hardy Knut ' was 
modelled on the euperior ballads with which 
it is compared, than that the superior ballads 
were also the work of the hand to which 
only one ballad has been clearly brought 
home. No amount of garnish, in the shape 
of antique spelling and Scottish forms, can 
coDceal the modem flavour in the single 
nell-autbenticatcd case. How happens it 
that this flavour is bo hard to detect in the 
others ! With all respect, therefore, for 
Robert Chambers's literary taste and honest 
Bcepticisni, we must hold fast to the convic- 
tion that the great masa of our romantic 
ballads have had an undoubted traditionary 
origin, and are as old at least as Shakespeare 
and the regular drama. 

Perhaps it is natural, when we consider 
the strife and lawlessness and bloodshed 
which formed to so great an eirtent the edu- 
cation of the people, that tragic features 
should so generally abound in these roman- 
tic ballads. Many of them have rendered 
the peaceful valleys and pastoral slopes of 
the lowlands of Scotland classic gronnd. 
which bards of later times have trodden with 
reverent and loving etcpa. Such a region, 
for example, is the ' Braes of Yarrow,' in 
Selkirkshire, where 



Yarrow has its own special galaxy of aong, 
and is rich in poetic memoriex. It inspired 
Hamilton of Bangour to write his eiquisite 
verses on ' The Braes of Yarrow.' To Scott 
it was hallowed soil, making his eyea now 
gleam with fire, now glisten with moisture, 
as he recited the triumphs and the trials of 
his clansmen. Here the Ettrick shepherd 
heard the skylark slog — 

' Bird of the wilderneaa, 
Blithesome and cumberless, 
Sweet bo thy matin o'er moorland and lea.' 

Wordsworth, too, delighted in a district 
which drew from his poetical enthusiasm 
some of the choicest of his natural lyrics, 
witness ' Yarrow Unvisited,' ' Yarrow Visit- 
ed,' ' Yarrow Revisited. But finest of all, 
we venture to think, is the original ballad 
that first consecrated the soil from which so 
much and so rich romantic fruit has sprung 
— 'Tlio Dowie Dens o' Yarrow,' — a ballad 
which for dramatic power and heart-rend- 
ing pathos has few equals in the whole 
range of traditionary poetry. 

It is interesting to observe the light which 
these old ballads throw, not only on the 
manners and customs of the people in by- 



gone times, but also on their peculiar beliefs 
and feelings, Prominent among the super- 
stitions which grow with wild luxuriance in 
this romantic soil, is the belief in the moni- 
tory power of dreams. On the eve of his 
fatal victory at Otterboumc, the Douglas 
saw in a dream a dead man win n field. It 
was a dream that sent Robin Hood in search 
of Sir Gny of Gisbome. It was a dream 
that told ' love Gregory ' that ' Annie of 
Lochroyan' had been turned from his door 
at midnight by hia heartless mother, and 
that drew him to s^ek her by the wild sca- 
sliore, where — 

'He catched her by the yellow hair, 

And drew ber to (he slrand ; 

But cold and stiff was every limb, 

Before they reached the land.' 

And it was a dream that led the ' Rose of 
Yarrow' in the Dowie Dens to wander forth 
in search of her murdered lord. 

The nature of her dream points to another 
widely prevalent superstition. She dreamt 
that she 'pu'd the birk' with her true love 
in Yarrow, The birch was believed to grow 
at the gate of Paradise ; and to dream of it, 
therefore, was accepted as a forewarning of 
death. Tlie birk was also the badge of the 
dead who re-visited the earth ; for the return 
of the dead was a universally accepted article 
in the Border faith. Without a twig of 
the birk it was believed that their souls 
could not be at rest, nor their bodies lie 
peacefully in their graves, llius when the 
troubled spirit of 'Clerk Saunders' returns 
to ' May Margaret ' he tells her to 

' Plait a wand pf the bonnie birk. 

And lay it on my breast ; 
And go you home, May Margaret, 
And wish my soul good rest.' 

One floe and most touching ballad — 'The 
Wife of Usher's Well'— is full of these 
superstitions. When the Wife's two stal- 
wart BODS, whom she sent ' owre the sea' 
returned to her, 'their hats were o' the 
birk':— 

' It neither grew in syke nor ditch, 

Nor yet in ony sheugh ; 
But at the gates o' Paradise, 
That birk grew fair eneugh.' 

Then wc have the cwk-crowing as the sig- 
nal for the ghosts to depart. The older says 

to the younger brother, — 

'The cock doth craw, the day doth daw. 

The channcrin' worm doth chide ; 
Qin we be missed out o' our place, 
A sair pain we raaun bide.' 



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Tfie Ballad: Its JVatitre and Literary A^Uiea. 



' Lie Bt'M, lis Etill but a little nee while, 
Lio still but if we maj ; 
Gin our mither miss us when she wakcg, 
She'll go mad ere it bo day.' 

Anotlier curious feature in the romantic 
ballads is the use thej^ frequently:' tnako of 
communication by birds. This was pecullar- 
Ij- an Eastern traditioo. Interpretation of 
the language of birds was a department of 
science on which the Arabians especially 
piqued themselves ; and it has been suggesU 
ed that our poets and chroniclers may liavo 
obtained the idea from the crusading trou- 
badours. But it is not necessary to have 
recourse to imy such learned explanation, as 
this kind of peraoniScation has entered into 
the natural mytholc^ of alt conntries. 

■* The parrot of May Collean,' saya Aytoun, 
' was a fowl of shrewdness and discretion ; but 
the "bonny bird." who, in the ballad of 
" Young Hunter," reveals the murder, was 
conscientious in the extreme, and moreover 
proof against temptation. Another warns the 
mother of Johnny of Braidislee that her son is 
lying wounded in the forest ; whilst '' the gay 
g03H hawk" shows itself superior to any page 
in the delivery of a message.'* 

The page also holds a prominent place 
among the dramatis perxona of the roman- 
tic ballads. The plot, such as it is, often 
tnrns on the manner in which he discharges 
Ills duty. Indeed he is sometimes a hero in 
disgoiso. The intrepid "Willie of 'Gil Mo- 
rice,' may be taken as a type of the class; 
and not unfrequently, as in his case, the 
' bonnie boy ' exhibits a sense of propriety 
and decency which puts the moral laxity of 
his master to shame. 

The intermixture of the spiritual and ma- 
terial worlds in the ' Romantic Ballads ' has 
given rise in modem times to a distinct 
school of ballad poctty, which has found its 
best exponents among German poets, Tbe 
fiiat of the school was Gottfried Barger, 
who died in 1794, and he wa.i followed by 
Schiller, Goethe, and Uhland, The most 
stiilcing feature in their ballads, apart from 
their free use of supernatura! agency, is the 
introduction of dramatic dialogue, which is 
a modem dem-^n^tration of that close affinity 
betweeu ballad and dramatic poetry on 
which we have already insisted. Yet this is 
merely a later development of our own native 
ballad literature, with which one and all of 
these German poets were intimately acquaint- 
ed. Of Barger it is expressly recorded that 
his study of Percy's ' Reliques ' had the great- 
est influence in determining the line of poe- 
try which he ultimately adopted. But tbe 
debt was richly repaid ; for Sir Walter Scott 



* ' Tlie Ballads of Scotland,' Introduction, p. xWx. 



.Jan. 

is reported to have said of the translation of 
Barger's ' Lenore ' by William Taylor of 
Norwich — 'This was what made mo a poet. 
I had several times attempted the more reg- 
ular kinds of poely without success, but here 
was something; I thought I could do.' Ac- 
cordingly, Scott's translation of tliat fine 
ballad was one of his earliest poetical efforts; 
and in most of bis larger poems he has 
availed himself freely of supernatural agency, 
—witness the tale of 'The Elfin Warrior,' 
and the apparitions at the city cross in 
'Marmion;' and the 'Oracle of the Hide ' 
in 'The Lady of the Lake: while 'The Lay 
of the Last Minstrel ' is expressly founded 
on a ghostly legend. Coleridge is a still 
more enthusiastic and thorougb -going disci- 
ple of the same school. Indeed, no better 
example of this species of ballad, in which 
the natural and the supernatural elements 
are deftly interwoven, exists in any language, 
than his ' Rime of the Ancient Mariner,' 

Akin to this supernatural ingredient in 
the ballads is a fairy element, which enters 
into a considerable number of them, and 
which is evidently taken from the mythology 
of the northern nations. The Elf-land of 
the ballads is an underground region, peo- 
pled with daring spirits who make night-raids 
on the realms of humanity. There is an 
Elf-King (the 'Elb-rich' of the Germans. 
transformed into ' Oberon ' by the French 
romancists) ; but he is entirely subordinate 
to the Elf-Queen {'Titania,') "who adds tbe 
charms of beauty to her sovereign rights. 
The king is allowed to lead an idle and lux- 
rious life, so long as he does not interfere 
ith his wife's prerogative. She and her 
elves were regarded with considerable favour 
districts ; but there was a spice of 
malignity in some of their proceedings, 
which engendered a feeling of distrust and 
fear. This, however, was held to be more 
their misfortune than their fault If they 
occasionally kidnapped a human being, they 
did it in self-defence. For they wei'e bound, 
!ven years, to yield up a soul as 
tribute, or ' kane,' to the master-fiend ; and 
they naturally preferred to obtain a human 
being for this purpose, to sacrificing one of 
I hem selves. 

The great hero of the 'Fairy Legends' 
as Thomas the Rhymer, or True Thomas 
lore fully, Thomas Learmont, of Ercil- 
>une, a village near Lauder, where tbe 
ins of his tower are still pointed out), who 
flourished in the end of the thirteenth cen- 
tury. In his adventures, as recorded by 
himself. Christian and heathen elements are 
strangely intermingled. When the E^lf- 
queen visits him, be salutes her as queen of 
' ; and as a penalty of stealing a kiss 



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77(e Ballad: lis Mature and Literary Affiniluf. 



from lier, she carries him off &b her milk- 
white eteed, and makes htm her slare for 
BCTen yeaw. She takes him to a wide des- 
ert, and there shows him three ' ferlies ' or 
wondcra. The first is a 'broad way': — 
' That is the path of wickedness, 

Though some call it the road to heaven.' 

The second ia the ' narrow way,' — 

* So thick beset with thorns and briars ; 
That is the path of right«ouanesii, 
Thoi^h after it but few enquires.' 
The third is also a ' narrow road ' — 
' That winds about the ferny brae ; 
That is the way lo fur Elf kod 

Where you and I this nigkt must gao." 

As kIio carries him along the road, where 
there waa neitticr sun nor moon to light their 
path, and all sounds were drowned by the 
weird ' roaring of a sea,' tbe queen tells him 
that be must not speak, else he shall never 
return to earth. The terrors through whiuh 
ho passed were enough to seal his lips and 
make iiii) blood run cold : — 
' It was mirk, mirk nicht ;'there waa nae stem- 
light. 
And they waded through red blude to the 

For a' the blude that's shed on earth 
Rins thro' the springs o' that countrie.' 
After undergoing an education of seven years 
at the hands of the Elf-quecu, True Thomas 
returns to upper air, endued with powers 
which gained for him the reputation of a 
wizard and prophet, "i^o a late day, his say- 
ings and predictions were household words 
amongst the credulous and superstitious in 
Scotland. But there is reason to suspect that, 
as in the case of Robin Hood and otlicr 
popular heroes, he ia credited with many 
exploits in which he bad no concern. 

A word, in conclusion, on modem bal- 
lads. At the outset we described a ballad 
as primarily and essentially a traditionary 
poem. But if we adhere to our definition 
in its integrity, the strictly ballad epoch 
must have been extinguished by the inven- 
tion of printing ; and thereafter tbe produc- 
tion of a genuine ballad became almost, if 
not altogether, an impoasibility. Certainly 
the age of traditionary ballads is past and 
gone. But the history of the word ballad 
baa shown us that the application of such 
terms must vary with tbe conditions under 
which lit«rature is produced. And we 
should do unpardonable^ injustice at once to 
the power of poetiy and to the spirit of 
nationality and of humanity, if we denied 
that poems inspired by the ballad emotion 
could be produced in a literary age, or dis- 
seminated by the printing press. All |,that 

Tou HI. B— 2 



17 

is necessary ia that we should cleariy recog- 
nise the essential difference between the 
natural ballad and the ballad of literary cul- 
ture, 'The former bears the stamp of its 
ago ; the latter of the individual poeL They 
differ much as the wild and dew-fed violet 
of the meadows differs from the cultivated 
pansy of our gardens ; as the votks-epo» of 
the German critics — the popular opiij — dif- 
fers from the kunat-tpoa — the epic of lite- 
rary culture ; as Homer's ' Iliad,' for ex- 
ample, differs from Tennyson's ' Idylls of 
the King.' 

Now, not only have we many modem 
poems answering to this description, but 
such poems form, in point of fact, oue of 
the richest and most attractive departii^enl« 
of our modem litcratore. Some of these 
modem ballads indeed are simply old frieuda 
with new faces. Scott's 'Young Lochinvar' 
tells tbe same story as the old ballad of 
< Katharine of Janfarie,' ' The Lass of Loch- 
ryan,' suggested Burns'a song of * Lord 
Gregory.' Tennyson's ' Lord of Burleigh ' 
is simply a modem version of tbe fine old 
ballad of '-Donald of the Isles ; or Lizzie 
Lindsay.' Tlie ' Auld Robin Gray ' of Lady 
Anne Lindsay is nearly a perfect example 
of a pathetic and homely ballad — a poem 
which will he remembered and loved long 
after more ambitious worka arc forgotten. 
For there is la the brevity and compactness 
of a ballad an element which gives it a far 
better chance of longevity than more elabo- 
rate productions. This is, no doubt, the 
great reason why the most widely popular 

?oeroa — wo do not say the greatest poems, 
ut the poems whioh take the firmest grip 
of the sympathies and the memories of the 
great mass of the people ; the poems with 
which, in the popular mind, the fame even 
of the greatest poets is most closely linked 
— are ballad poems. Is not ' Tam o' Sliaii- 
ter' Buros's masterpiece f And 'Tam o' 
Sbanter ' is an incomparable ballad, a power- 
ful dramatic lyric. Or take a second famous 
ride ; is not Oowper known and admired as 
the author of ' John Gilpin ' by thonsanda 
who Dcver read * Expostulation,' and have 
only dipped into ' The Taak ' ? And ' John 
Gilpin ' is essentially a ballad. Or take a 
third famous nde ; how many, even in these 
days of ' light and sweetness,' read, or read- 
ing understand ' Sordello ' t Yet who does 
not enjoy and enter heartily into the spirit 
of ' Good News from Giient' ? Take, finally, 
tbe case of the Laureate, < In Memoriam ' 
is undoubtedly a groat poem, a poem which, 
of its kind, stands almost alone, and which, 
in the opinion of the best judges, is stall, 
and ia hkely to remain, Tennyson's master- 
piece. Yet for every one who reads and 



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Modern Scientific Inquiry and Rdigima Thought. 



18 

cherishes that poem — and they are not few 
— there are hundreds who know and appre- 
ciate Tennyson only as the anthor of such 
simple and heart- touching hallads as ' The 
Lord of Borteigb ' and ' Lady Clare.' 



Art. n. — Modem Scienltfic Inqairy and 
Beligiwi Thought. 

(1.) The Slory of Ike Sarth and .Van. By 
J. W. Dawbon, LL.D., F.R.8, F.G.S.. 
Principal and Vice-Gbancellor of M'Oill 
University, Montreal Author of ' Ar- 
chaia,' ' Acadian Geology,' Ac. Hodder 
and Stonghton. 1873. 

(S.) The Hiffhtr Miniilrtf of Natnre view- 
ed in the Light of Modern Sciente and 
04 an Aid to advanced Chriilian Philo- 
iophy. By John R. Leifchild, A.M., 
Author of ' Our Coal Fields,' ' Cornwall, 
its Mines and Miners,' &c Hodder and 
Stoughton. 1873. 

The attitude snstained towards each other 
by religion and science is sometimes de- 
scribed as that of an armed truce — a truce 
which is indeed broken occasionally by a 
passage of nrraf between some of the more 
eager of the contending hosts. That there 
is very much to favour such a description in 
— to say the least— the reticence of the man 
of science towards religioiu thought, and 
the suspicion with which he in torn is re- 
garded by the theologian, cannot be denied ; 
bat it is equally, true that there are not a 
few men of high and wide culture on both 
sides — and the number of them is increasing 
— wbo, above the mutual suspicion and dis- 
trust, anil above the din of the strife, are 
able to discern a meeting-place for the scat- 
tered rays of light which fall on cither 
side, and of which the lesser and more dog- 
matic minds are prone to think that the 
little portion they possess, is the whole of 
the asccrtmnable and tbc known. 

It is probable that many scientific men 
have aroused the suspicion and provoked 
the hostility of the opposite side, both by 
this reticence on religious subjects, and also 
by the narrow exclusiveness with which 
they have often sought t« guard the realms of 
science from the intrusion of the theologian. 
Mr. Tyndall in his review of Mr. Mosely on 
the ' Miracles,' affords an illustration of this. 
The assumption of superiority with which 
the theol(^ian is there warned off, as if the 
region of science were a sort of Tom Tid 
dler's ground, would be amusing were it 
not sad in the interests of truth to discern 



Jan. 



the undercurrent of intolerant dogmatism 
which underlies all such assumption. 

On the other band, there is no disguising 
the fact that tlieologians have done very 
much to provoke not only the hostility, but 
what is worse, the contempt of scientific 
men by the extravagant and grotesque the- 
ories of creation, nature, and life, which 
many of them have put forth. A motley 
group of such theories may be seen in the 
chapter on ' The Geology of the Anti-Qeo- 
logists,' contained in Hugh Miller's ' Testi- 
mony of the Rocks,' We can readily 
underetand the scorn that was avoked at a 
recent meeting of the British Association 
when an Archdeacon of the English Church 
gravely aigued that the various races of 
animals had descended from the cherubim 
who were placed to guard the gates of Para- 
dise I There was some excuse for Mr. Hux- 
ley's retort, ' that it was enough to malce 
one think that the first theologian was Cain, 
and Abel the first man of science.* It b to 
be feared, also, that scientific men arc occa- 
sionally goaded into opposition as their 
speculations and researches are met by ana- 
thema instead of argument, and by the 
charge of atheism, which, nilh all its conse- 
quences, is heaped upon them and their 
theories. 

Is it not possible, also, that the estimate 
of the opposition of men of science towards 
religion may have been greatly exaggerated f 
Wc think if inquiry were made, it would be 
found that there are as many of them in 
proportion to the entire number who could 
fairly claim to rank as Christian men as 
there are of lawyers, historians, litterateurs, 
or, indeed, of the mass of ordinary people. 
Even in cases where indifierence or hostility 
to the claims of religion is manifested, such 
indifference or hostility is not necessarily to 
be chaiged to the study of natural science. 
In many cases such men would have been 
' nicht Christen,^ as Goethe has it, if they 
had never given a thought to science at all. 
Indeed, they may be snch as the result more 
of their eariy training, and of tbc moral 
condition of their lives, than of tbc nature 
of their studies. Shall we be forgiven if, 
borrowing a simile from scientific language, 
we add that possibly they only possess in a 
rudimentary form that capacity for religion 
which, however it may have come to the 
race collectively, is now an integral part of 
the instinct of the fully- developed indivi- 
dual. 

It would be difficult to over-estimate the 
care, labour, and desire for accuracy, by 
means of which the stock of scientific know- 
ledge now possessed has been obtained by 
earnest students of nature. There is no 



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Modem Scientific Xnquin/ and XUUgivuB Thought. 



1874. 

di^aieing the fact tbat tlie bulk of the con- 
clusions of modem science rest upon nn 
almost incredible accnmnUtion of fucts and 
observed phenomena ; and upon an amount 
of persistent inquiry which entitles many of 
the inquirers to rank as ecientifie martyrs. 
Take, as an example from one department 
of science, the publication of the Palieon- 
tt^raphical Society of this country. This 
society has for its object, as its name im- 
plies, the preparation and publishing of 
writings descriptive of the nature and variety 
of ancient life upon the earth. It has now 
published twenty-four quarto volumes, which 
are full of minute deBoriptiona of nearly 
five Uioasond species of British fossils, m 
of nbich are represented in upwards of one 
tbousand plalee, which contain over twenty 
thousand figures. Of the way in which 
each mont^i^ph descriptive of the remains 
of some particular order or class of life is 
compiled, we can give an illustration. We 
single out the account of a family of shell- 
fish. The writer starts with its living repre- 
sentatives, and follows the history back 
throughout the vast periods of geologic 
time. To do this haa taken twenty-five 
years of the author's life ; which time he 
haa passed chiefly in his study, examining — 
microscopically for the most part — the hinge- 
lines, strife, and shapes of the shells he 
describes, together with the muscular im- 
jtressions of the fish which once lived in 
them, and collating the British examples 
with specimens brought from all parts of 
the world. He has drawn with his own 
hands some three hundred quarto plates, 
each containing fiftv figures, and for each 
of these figures he has examined at least 
ten specimens. Of the many explorers and 
collectora necessary for the accumulation of 
such a mass of materials, who have wandered 
solitarily amidst the tombs of ancient life, 
we will not now speak. Their labour must 
have been very great. The illustration we 
have given is but one of many which might 
be drawn from eveir department of science ; 
and it .will bo admitted that the results of 
such patient and self-sacrificing inquiry are 
entitled to all the respect and consideration 
we can give. This we readily yield, and we 
would fwve it well understood that it ia in 
no hostile spirit we now proceed to point 
out what, to us, seem to be some defects in 
the mode and spirit in which scientific in- 
quiiy is sometimes pursued. 

It needs but a slight acquaintance with 
scientific literature, especially its periodical 
literature, to discover that, admirably adapt- 
ed as many scientists are for the discovery and 
examination of details, a large proportion of 
tiiem, from deficiency in natural power, as 



well as by reason of the lack of a liberal 
early culture, are incompetent for the higher 
work of the generaliaation of facts. To 
borrow an illustration from business life, 
there are many good clerks and even beads 
of departments, but there are few maater 
minds able to comprehend the whole ma- 
chinery, the interdependence, and the mu- 
tual relationship of the numerous and 
widely- diversified ramifications of the bun- 
neas. If a man wishes to become well 
acquainted with the general features of a 
country, it will not do for him to be ever 
threadmg its valleys and ravines. Now 
and then he must take a long breath, and 
ascend high table-lands and mountain peaka. 
Waiting patiently until the clouds have dis- 
persed and the mists have cleared away, he 
must note well the grand outline of the 
hills, the winding of the valleys, the fer- 
stretching plains, the distant sea, and the 
far off dim meeting-place of earth and sky. 
In scientific inquiry all this has been too 
often forgotten. ITie tendency to theorize 
haa been out of proportion to the know- 
ledge of facts; and as in other lines of 
thought so in this, men are dogmatic in pro- 
portion to their lack of culture and power 
of generalization. 

Then it baa often seemed to us that 
there is among scientific men a good deal of 
what Oarlyle, in reference to another sub- 
ject, has called in German fashion tchwar- 
tnerei, a sort of enthusiastic foUow-my- 
leader. A new idea is started, a theory 
launched, for example, by a favourite au- 
thor. Attracted by its novelty or daring, it 
finds a few zealons partisans, who write it 
up, who iterate and reiterate it, who soon 
assume it to be quite true, and forthwith 
proceed to make it the base of further in- 
quiries ; and as, whether derived from them 
or not, we are largely possessed of that 
imitative faculty which is characteristic of 
the apes, they find many imitators and fol- 
lowers. Increasing in numbers and impor- 
tance, they begin to look down with some 
degree of contempt on those who hesitate 
to accept their conclasions, and who demand 
further evidence. The acceptance of the 
theory really becomes quite as much a test 
of scientific respectability, as tbat of the 
latest style of dress is of the necessary qua- 
lification to be admitted into fashionable 
society, 

Much, too, as scientific men affect to de- 
spise the influence of anthority or tradition 
in other matters, we nevertheless find them 
in tbeir own dombin too frequently guilty 
of bowing down to these. For example, 
how frequently do we meet in scientific 
books with such eipressions aa these, ' My 



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Modem Scientific Inquiry and Religious Thought. 



Jan. 



learned and distinguished fnend, Sir A. B., 
infonnB me,' or, ' It is stated by C, D., Esq., 
F.R.S., an eminent authority on thU subject,' 
or, 'If it be as Herr von R or M. de F., the 
eminent German or French naturaliat, says, 
then Biich and such consequences follow.' 
Now it appears to us that sufficient care is 
not always taken by scientific inquirers to 
verify these statements of their friends, or 
to inquire nhether the accuracy of the 
recorded facts has ever been imputed. If 
space permitted, we could adduce numerous 
examples of the assertion and re-assertion, 
as accepted facts, of obscrratioDS whose 
error and worthlessness as scientific data had 
been demonstrated over and over again. 
These are some of the defects of scientific 
reasoning ; there are others which we shall 
notice before we have done. 

Turning now to the books whose titles 
impear at tlio head of this paper we find 
that Mr, Dawson, ttie author of ' The Story 
of the Earth and Man,' possefises to the full 
the qualities essential to the able generalizer 
of facts. Those who move within scientific 
circles need not be told that he has been an 
iadefatigable worker in several portions of 
the geologic field. Of this his numerous 
contributions to the Proceedings of the 
Geological Society of London give ample 
proof. We mention, as examples of the 
linportance of these, his description — the 
first given — of the Bozoon Canadensit, the 
^gantic form of early life found not many 
years i^o in the Lawrentian rocks of Ame- 
rica ; and his paper on the ' Devonian Flora 
of Nova Scotia as illustrating the conditions 
of the Deposition of Ck>a]? Outside tbig 
circle he is known by his books 'Archaia' 
and 'Acadian Geology.' Mr. Dawson is 
also known as an origin^ observer and dis- 
coverer in geological science. As he remarks, 
somewhat ^ologetically, — 

' He has named and described the oldeat 
known animal. He has also described the 
oldest true exi^n, and the oldest pine tree. 
He was concerned in the discovery of the 
oldest land snails, and found the oldest milli- 
pedes. He has just dencHbod the oldest bitu- 
minous bed composed of spore caseis, and 
he claims that his genus ffylentrmiu includes 
the oldest animals which have a fair claim (o 
be considered reptiles.'— Pp. HO, 160. 
The discrimination and philosophical acu- 
men of the author are seen, among many 
other examples, in the lucid way in which 
hs describes the part which land-ice, ice- 
bergs, and river action have played in the 
deposition of the loose stony covering of 
the earth known as drift 'The manner in 
which he does this, and indicates the signs 
by means of which the work performed by 



these several agents may be determiDcd, 
contrasts favourably with that of many geo- 
logists, who, with the dogmatism vrhich is 
thu sure indication of limitation of vision, 
assign the whole phenomenon to one cause 
alone. 

'The Story of the Earth and Man' is 
therefore written by a master-hand. The 
telling of it combines exactness of F^cienco 
with intelligibility of description. We mis.i 
indeed the im^nalive flights and numerous 
literary references of the popular books of 
Hugh Miller ; but with less of rhetoric we 
get more science, more especial knowledge 
of each of the geolt^c eras; and these 
conveyed with a precision, yet with sufficient 
amplitude of language, to make the book 
interesting to a reader of ordinary culture. 
There are, of course, the long names of 
fossils, comparable in size to the Saurians of 
the middle and the Mammals of tlie later 



easy book of the kind scientific men are apt 
to despise, but an honest and able attempt 
to convey in pure English, to Englishmen of 
average intelligence, the history of the earth 
and the opening chapters of the history of 

The story opens with the incandescent 
mass, which, flung off from another planet 
or coalescing from smaller fragmeuta, took 
its shape as it went whirling through spa(^. 
Then comes the cooling of its surface ; the 
ascending vapour condensing into rain ; the 
precipitation of salts ; then we arc introduc- 
ed to the lirst appearance of life, and we 
follow both the increase and the divergence 
of the stream of life through the three great 
geological diviMons of time. The sub- 
divisions of these epochs, as marked by 
groups of strata, come neit, which, as se- 
parate formations, the author describes as 
fully aa the limits of the work will alloiv, 
together with the varying chemical, climatic, 
and atmospheric conditions of each ; the 
rise, growth, and decadence of certain forms 
of life, with the perpetuation of others, 
through succeeding eras; the introduction 
of the higher forms of life as the earth 
became fitted to receive them ; all this and 
much more is told, as we have said, in a 
manner that combines exactness of science 
with succinctness and intelligibility of de- 
scription to readers of ordinary culture. 

In the concluding chapters Mr. Daivson 
sums up the teaching of tho whob story in 
its bearing on two at least of the questions 
which of late have been prominently before 
men's minds ; namely, the mode of the 
origin of species, and the antiquity of the 
human race. On the first of these quesfiou 



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Modern Scientific Inquiry and Iteltgioua TTtoujj/U. 



1874. 

Mr. Dawson joins issue from tlie bcj^nning 
\Tith the theoiy of the variation of species, 
and of the wider divei^enciea of life by 
meana of nntural eelectioo as propounded 
by Mr. Darwin. From the position the 
former holds in the scientific world, it will at 
once be felt that his arguments are worthy 
of attention. It ia too much the fashion of 
Bnpportcrs of the theory in question to 
BBsumo its general acceptance by all scienti- 
fic mcD wortiiy of the name. It will not do 
any longer, however, to ignore the criticisms, 
limitations, exceptions, and the direct con- 
tradictions of the theory urged by such men 
as Baminde, Agassi^ Owen, Thomson, Phil- 
lips, Pritchard, the Doke of Argyll, and 
Dawson, together with the late Sir John 
Herschell and Professor Sedgwick, and men 
of like wide culture and acientific eminence. 
The time has come, and it ought to have 
come before, when such criticisms should 
be met by fair ai^ument, and not by con- 
temptuous silence, misconception, and de- 
clamation. 

We need hardly sny that Mr. Dawson 
ai^ues the question with fairness and can- 
dour, and with that respect for Mr, Darwin 
which that gentleman's position and acquire- 
ments deserve. 

Jlr. Dawson even goes so far as to enu- 
merate many of the examples, afforded by 
ancient orders of life, of a combination of 
form in the same individual, and an ap- 
parent subsequent divergence to separate 
classes of oi^nism. We are reminded for 
example of the corals of Silurian and De- 
vonian times, which bore within themselves 
resemblances to two very different classes 
which, inhabit modem seas; of the Ortho- 
ceratites which reached their largest deve- 
lopment in the Carboniferous period, and 
were at once nantili and cuttle fish ; of the 
fiigillariiB of the coal flora, which were pines 
and dab mosses in one ; and of the Arche- 
gosaums of the Carboniferous age, which, 
while having affinity with the old ganoid 
fishes, were still possessed of true lungs and 
feet; and from which ascended and diverg- 
ed two lines of progress, one leading to 
gigantic crocodile animals, and the other 
leading to small and delicate lizard-like 
qtecies. 

Once only, when apparently annoyed at 
the air of superiority displayed by the more 
ardent supporters of Mr. Darn'tn's scheme, 
and appalled by the blank atheism' which to 
his mind seems to he the only legitimate 
oatcome of the theory, does the author in- 
dulge in any ebullition of feeling. The 
fear of this atheistic tendency is present 
also in the mind of Mr. Le'ifchild, with 
regard to both this and other theones which 



21 

he passes under review. It may be, how- 
ever, that both of them are mistalten. Cer- 
tainly, it is a dangerous proceeding to 
charge any theory with atheism as its only 
legitimate result It may be that blank 
atheism is not the only possible result of 
the theory of evolution ; but onlj' one 
among others equally possible, aocorciing to 
the light, the mood, and the bias of those 
who look at it Indeed, the impressioB 
does not seem to be permanent on the mind 
of either Mr. Dawson or Mr. Leifchild, for 
the former elsewhere argues that the theory 
itself demands an intelligent author, and 
the latter that evolution impUes an evolver. 
Besides, the neces^ty of a secondary crea- 
tive law is admitted by both authors, and 
by most of the writers we have named at 
taking exception to the theory. Professor 

' The generaliulions based upon a rigorous 
and extlnsive obiierTation of facts, which have 
impressed me with a conviction of a conlinu- 
ously operative secondary creational power 
originating the succession of species, are the 
following : that of irrelative or v^etative re- 
petition ; that of unity of plan as demonstrated 
in the articulate and vertebrate typos of orga- 
nization i the factd of congenital varieties ; the 
phenomena of parthenogenesis; the analogies 
of transitory embryonal stages in a higher 
animal to the mature forms of lower animals ; 
the great paleontolc^cal fact of the successive 
coming in of now species from the period of 
the oldest deposit in which organic remains 
have been found, such species being limited in 
time and never reappearing after dying out; 
the many instances of retention of structures 
in palffiozoic species, which are embyronal and 
transitory in later species of the same order or 
class ; the progressive departure front a gene- 
ral to a special type as exempliSed in the series 
of species from their first introduction to the 
present time.' 

Mr. Owen truly adds : — 

"The inductive demonstration of the nature 
and mode of operation of such secondary con- 
tinuously operative species producing force, 
will henceforth be the great aim of the natural- 
ist' — ' Palteontology,' p. 144. 
" To the same effect the Duke of Argyll, 
after showing the insufficiency of Mr. Dar- 
win's theory to account for the origin of 
species, writes: — 

' On the other hand, if I am asked whether 
I believe that every separate species has been 
a separate creation, not bom, but so)Ktrately 
nukie, I must answer that t do not believe it 
I think the facts do suggest to the mind the 
working of some creative law almost as cer- 
tainly as they convince us that we know no- 
thing of its nature, or of the conditions under 
which it does its glorious work.' — * Keign of 
Law,' p. 219. 



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So also Mr. Dawson : — 

'What, then, is the actual statenieDt of the 
tiieorj of creation, as it may be held b/ a mo- 
dem maD of science ? Simplj this, that all 
tfainga have been produced \ij the Buprems 
creative will acting directlj, or throu^ the 
.agency of forces and materials of His own 
production. Thin theorj does not necessarily 
afflrm that creation is miraculous in the sense 
of being contrary to, or subversive of law ; 
law and order are as applicable to creation as 
any other progress ... It does not imply that 
all kinds of creation are alike. There may be 
higher and lower kinds . . . Created things, 
aniens absolutely unchangeable must be m(H*e 
or less modified by influences from within and 
vithout, and derivation or evolution may ac- 
count for certain subordinate changes already 
made.' — pp. 340-1. 

Mr. Lcifchild also admits that the theory of 
evolution may include creatJou — we wonld 
rather say that creation includes evolution. 
We might multiply quotations to thg same 
effect, but these will suffice to show — first, 
that Mr. Darwin both misunderstands and 
misrepresents his opponents when he chai^^es 
npon them the belief in the miracalous in- 
terference which the separate creation of 
each species wonld necessitate, and asks : 
* Do they really believe that at inuumeniblc 
periods of the earth's history certain ele- 
mental atoms have been commanded to 
flash into living tissues T 

Mr. Darwin, Mr. Wallace, and others, re- 
fuse to admit the irreligious tendency of 
their viewi>. The former asserts that there 
is a grandeur in this view of life with its 
several powers having be6n originally 
breathed by the Creator into a few forms,' 
or into one ; and that while this planet has 
gone cycling on, according to the fixed laws 
of gravity, from so simple a beginning end- 
less forms most beautiful and wonderful 
have been and are being evolved.' With 
the latter it is simply a question of how the 
Creator has worked The quotations ad- 
duced, therefore, serve to show us, secondly, 
that between those who hold various and 
even opposite viens of creation, but who 
acknowledge in common the necessity of a 
Creator, the controversy resolves itself into 
fin inquiry as to the exact amount of influ- 
ence which the power of evolution has ex- 
erted upon the diversification of the forms 
of life upon earth ; whether it bas been the 
only, the chief cause, or, as we think, only 
one, and that a subsidiary one, of many 
causes which have been at work, and one 
which has had more r^rd towards the 
preservation of species than to the method 
of their origin. These questions are to be 
determined by the facts of the case as far 
aa we know them. 



There is Dothing in the theory of secon- 
dary creation by means of taw, under the 
guidance of the supreme Will, which should 
be offensive to an intelligent Christian mind. 
'Die principle is an accepted one in spiritual 
things. That God works by means is a 
common expression. That He answcra 

Erayer, recreates, guides and sanctifies 
uman souls ; that believers may be co- 
workers with God ; that even by the help of 
the weak things of the world God will con- 
found the things that are mighty ; that it is 
to be through me active co-operation of His 
Church that His kingdom over men is to 
become universal — all this is most surely 
believed by us. Why, then, should there 
be any unwillingness to acknowledge the 
operation of similar means of nature) If 
God works best in the higher realms of 
mind in this way, it is nut probable that in 
the lower realms of body and matter the 
same methods of renewing and fitting His 
creatures for dificrent and higher modes of 
life will be found in operation ! 

Before we state, bnefly, our objections to 
the theory of the Origin of Species by moans 
of natural selection, we should like to at- 
tempt to show that, supposing the theory 
were home out by a careful indoction of 
facts, we do not see why, on religious 
grounds, it may not be accepted by even 
orthodox Christians. To us it appears that,' 
accepting it, there is equal, perhaps more, 
need for a premeditated plan of action ; for 
the same far-reaching foresight which sees 
the end from the beginning ; for the same 
constant superintendence, and for as nice 
an adjuKtment of parts to each other, and of 
all to the varying external conditions of na- 
ture, as there woald be if from inorganic or 
dead matter the Creator made entirely new 
forms. In Mr, Darwin's idea we see the 
Author of nature advancing life-forms al- 
ready in existence another step. In the 
commonly accepted one we behold Him 
creating from dead matter new forma in ad- 
vance of, and in addition to the old. Or 
the difference is simply between taking dead 
matter and giving to it a particular shape 
and form of lite, with powers in advance of 
some similarly, previously existing form, 
and taking matter already endowed with life 
and certam capabilities, and giving to that 
a more highly finished structure, with 
powers in advance of the old. The last 
plan is something more than improving the 
old, or allowing the old to improve itself. 
There is, first, tne calling into existence the 
new conditions of nature, with the adapta- 
tion of these to nourish the new phases of 
life, and, next, there is the next wise re-ar- 
raogement at just the right time of existing 



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Modem Scientific Inquiry and Mdigioue ThoujM. 



1874. 

parte of a liviii); thing, or the addition of 
new. Thas the body of Adam as the head 
of the present haman race would be as much 
created by its Maker froiji the dust of the 
earth — as indeed the human body is created 
day by day — if it were adapted to higher 
life from dust already put into an organic 
form, sa^, if we will, a lower kind of man, 
or even an ape, as if the Almighty had 
taken dust which, if such a thing be con- 
ceivable, had never entered into the compo- 
sition of a sentient being, and moulded that 
for the firEt time into human shape. On 
the precise mode of creation the Scriptares 
are silent, but in either case the fact re- 

Furtlier, we think it noald not be difficult 
to discover in the former theory, resemblan- 
ces to, and confirmations of certain beliefs 
which in some shape or other have hitherto 
been held by Christian men. For example, 
' take the admitted teudency of plants and 
animals to revert to their original stock, if 
the training and cultivation which have im- 
proved them be withdrawn. la there not 
some analogy between this and that ten- 
dency in man when left to himself to be- 
come of the earth earthy, and to submit his 
higher nature to the dominion of those 
fieshly appetites and passions which on this 
theory he inherits from the creatures below 
him, and which on any theory he hait in 
common with them! We may call this 
tendency by what name we please, but 
it looks under any name very like what 
theologians call original sin. Or if we re- 
gard sin as coming with the accession of 
knowledge, we may see how this idea may 
not he inconsistent with that of man's pro- 
gression upwards from the brute ; for sup- 
posing the brute or savj^c state (we use 
this word in a limited sense) to have been 
man's original condition, we see how in 
that case man has sinned against the laws 
of his animal being ; has been false to the 
instincts of his animal nature. As an ape 
he loved his young, and would have impe- 
rilled his life for their safety, but with the 
accession of knowledge he kills his children, 
buries them alive, hums them, and throws 
tfaeiii into the sea. As an ape he was the 
hqsband of one wife, but when he developes 
into a man, the number of his wives is often 
only limited by the extent of his wealth and 
the strength of his desires. We might pro- 
ceed with this contrast, bat we forbear. 
Enough has, however, been said to show 
that from two opposite points of view man 
is on the natural selection theory in a state 
of sin, on the one side liable to have his 
higher nature swamped by animal instincts 
and passions, and on the other with a de- 



ranged will perverting the finer instincts of 
bis animal nature, or pampering the remain- 
der to such an inordinate degree as to in- 
duce personally physical decay, and gradu- 
ally degradation and ruin. There is also in 
the theory that which, after all, as it has 
been well put, is selection by an intelligent 
will, by means of which creatures oest 
adapted for it are called up into a higher 
hfe, and to play a 'more important part in 
the economy of nature, something analogous 
to that process of selection by which some 
from among human souls are called tu be 
sainte and co-workers with God for the 
advancemeitt of the human race — one as- 
pect of the doctrine of personal election. 
May we not also, from the theoiy, derive 
confirmation of that doctrine of a special 
Providence to which men's hearts cHng in 
their deepest needs ! For if we beheve in 
a Care or Bias, call it what we will, that 
tones and shades the coloring of an insect's 
wings to the surrounding foliage for the 
creature's safety, and that thickens the shell 
of the mollusk when it becomes exposed to 
a rougher sea; surely we must walk by the 
same mle and mind the same thing when 
we ascend to the higher regions of life, 
where it is bnt reasonable to suppose that 
adaptive power will be most manifest, and 
infer that the same Care, Bias, or Power, 
BO far from presenting an aspect of icy in- 
difference towards its intelligent creatures, 
will regard them with an amount of interest 
at least equal to that with which it regards 
the soulless creation below them. If the 
' heart and flesh cry out for the living God,' 
surely the living God will not be deaf to 
the cry. 

AH this is true, supposing the theory to 
be true and really borne out by the observed 
facts and phenomena of nature. But our 
deliberate opinion is that it is not proven ; 
that, however interesting and beantifully put 
the illustrations given in the books of its 
originators and supporters may be, they may, 
treated by equally skilful hands, be made to 
lead to very different results. The evidence 
is accumulative, but not acuminative. Ths 
streams are parallel, not convergent towards 
proof. When applied to the great«r di- 
vei^encies found among the higher types of 
life the theory altogether fails. Even in the 
lesser differences where variation by means 
of natural selection might be expected to 
prevail, there are multitudes of cases that 
could he adduced which the theory totally 
fails to explain. Take aa examples the dif- 
ferences between humming birds, so well 
put by the Dake of Ai^ll, and the still 
more ancient example of the Trilobites of 
the Cambrian and Silurian seas, which, ac- 



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Modern Seientiji': Tnquiry'and Sdigioui Thought, 



24 

cordio^ to the investigatioDK of M. Barrande, 
altogether mistook their vocadoD, accordinir 
to this theory, and missed what was best for 
themselves, iiDtJl it was too late for them to 
perpetnate their existence hj improving 
their tails. Then the theory of evolution 
fuls to bridge over the g^ts which yawn 
between living and dead matter ; between 
vegetable and aDimal life ; between instinct 
and reason ; between brute impnlses and 
mora] feelings ; and, as far as positive evi- 
dence goes, between one genus and an- 
other. The fact, too, remains that the 
theory receives little countenance from 
geologic evidence. We know it is argued 
that that evidence ia fragmentary and incom- 
plete — granWd ; but surely, just as a hand- 
ful of com, taken at haphazard out of a bag 
which had been previoudy well shaken, is a 
fair sample of the bulk, so ought the evi- 
dence preserved after all the shakings this 
earth has undergone, to be a fur sample of 
^le remainder. Besides, the evidence is not 
so fragmentary. Mr. Ramsay some years since 
pointed out the great breaks there were in 
the continuity of strata ; but several of these, 
as, for example, the breaks between the Con! 
measures and the Permian, between the 
Pcimian and the Trias, and between the 
Trias and the Lias, have since then been 
more or less bridged over ; yet still the evi- 
dence is as unfavourable as before. Then 
there are strata which certainly took long 
enough in forming to contain among their 
entombed organizations, examples of the 
gradual alteration of species throughout a 
lengthened period of time. We write sut- 
surrounded by a la^o series of fossils, which 
during many years have been collected from 
one of these formations, which is at least eight 
thousand feet in thickness ; hut we fail to 
discover, though we have carefully sought 
for them, any such transitional form^ As 
applied to the evolution of man from an ape 
the thecfty fails moat of all, because the out- 
ward conditions of nature, and the specific 
advance, if advance it can be called, of man, 
do not accord. His bodily strength and ani- 
ma! instincts failed, before his superiority 
of mind was able to supply the deficiency. 
The very agency too by which he is supposed 
to have been evolved — the extreme cold ; 
the precarionsnoss of existence to the very 
verge of starvation ; the hand to hand 
stru^Ie with death and all its attendant cir- 
eumfitanccs — arc, as we know, subversive of 
all the higher properties of his nature. 
This phase of the aigument is well put by 
Mr. Dawson, and Mr. Leifchild als(> ai^uea 
the question temperately and well. Even 
Mr, Wallace, the eo-expounder with Mr. 
Darwin of the theory of evolution, admits 



Jan. 

the inapplicability of it in the case of man. 
Nor does the latter bridge over the difficulty 
by calling to bis tiA the newer theory of 
'sexual selection,* because we think it can 
be well shown that, both in Ihe end to be 
achieved, and in the means of its achieve- 
ment, the two theories would be antagooia- 
tic rather than mutually helpful. 

On one important point Mr. Darwin, Mr. 
W^allace, and others, while admitting the ne- 
cessity of an intelligent Creator, are clearly 
at fault ; it is this : we think it is as un- 
phitosophical, as it is untrue to all analogies 
of mind and nature generally, to limit the 
operation of the energy, the wisdom, lire 
benevolence, and other attributes of a Crea- 
tor to the act of first starting the earth on 
its way ; and to suppose that with that one 
grand effort, even allowing it sufficient in 
plan and force for all time, creative force, 
and creative regard for the work produced, 
exhausted theniselvea, and that the Creator 
remained ever after indifferent to the unfold- 
ing of His own plans, and the working out 
of His own problems. Men at least do not 
act in this way. The more perfect the 
mechanism, the more wonderful the ma- 
chinery, and the more beautiful the produc- 
tion of a man's mind, the more constant is 
the communication between it and the mind 
of the oonceiver or producer. We do not 
think that it would be desirable for it to be 
otherwise, and we do not see why on any 
ground it should be otherwise in the great plan 
of nature. W^ithoQt arguing for the incessaDt 
interference of which Mr. Wallace speaks, wo 
hold that the psalmist was right in saying 
that God still visits the earth, and we buUeve 
that we arc reasonable in maintaining that 
iference of Infinite Mind still en- 
circles, and is in ordinary contact with the 
sphere of its earthly operations, and is not 
separated from it by an intervening belt of 

acuous indifference. 
The controversy becomes more serious 

ben it lies between those who agree in the 
recognition of a necessary Creator, and those 
who either deem that matter is potent enougli 
in and of itself for the accomplishment of 
the results we see around us, and of which 
form a part, or who stand content on the 
verge of the seen and the known, and say it 
is enough, what matters it to us what lies 
beyond I Or if it does it is all 'unknowable 
and unknown,' as, in our author's opinion, 
Mr. Herbert Spencer maintains. But surely 
it is not for any man to stop the .way, and 
say to his fellow-man, ' Go no further because 
I am satisfied, or because the landmarks we 
have followed hitherto now fail us, and the 
m beyond is dim and shadowy.' If 
ascend a mountainous region by fol- 



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Modem Seieriiijtc Inquiry and Religious I^tought. 



1874. 

lowing a stream Id a valley to its sonrce, 
shall find that at first the road is ^ood and 
wetl-dcfined, bounded on either side by 
hedges, and higher up by dry stone walls. 
But little by little thu walls disappear until 
we find ourselves ou the open mountain. 
Here, too, for a while the path is well marked, 
but pradually it narrows, subdivides, 
dwindlea away into little more than a eheep- 
track. Even the stream at out sid 
to bo a guide, for it is split up into 
rable tiny rilla which trickle unseei 
the heather and moss. The difficulty of 
Guding one's way is also often increased by 
the mist which lies spread over the moun- 
tain moorlands. Now suppose that, at such 
a time, a doubting brother bad said to us, 
Spencer-like, ' Here we must stop ; the way- 
marbs hare ceased, the signs by which we 
have been guided so far are left behind, and 
withal the region is dim and lonely ; ' what 
should we have done ! Why, like him who 
remembered that he bad a key in his boBom 
which would unlock the gate of Doubting 
Castle, we 'should have taken out onr pocket 
compass, and said that the time had come 
for the use of a difTerent kind of guide 
from that which we bad used before. We 
should also have compared our position with 
the ascents and explorations made by others 
from diffen^nt points towards the Earae nnez- 
plored region. This, it will he admitted, 
wonld have been the only sensible course to 
pursue. Let us apply the illustration to the 
inquiry before us. In all our investiga- 
tions of natural phenomena, whether through 
time or space, and along whatever road wn 
travel, we reach at last a region where the 
method of induction from' observed facta 
Beems to fail. In astronomy we reach at 
last undefined nebulse ; in chemistry we can- 
not go further 'than the simple elements of 
ipatter ; in geology we stop at the incandes- 
cent mass — itself derived — of which the 
earth was made ; in organic structure at 
the few primordial forms of life, or we are 
ultimately checked by the Foraminifera and 
Protoplasm of Lawrcntian seas. It is not a 
region for dogmatism. It is not for the 
unbelieving to say to the believing man of 
science, ' Who created your Creator ! ' be- 
cause the latter could at once retort ' Whence 
the matter you endow with such potentiaUty, 
and whence the laws to which you give the 
intelligence of a law-giver?' But having all 
Alike reached this borderland, the question 
may be very properly asked, which is now 
the wisest course to pursue ! ' To say, ' It is 
enough ; we neither want nor care to know 
any more V To gaze with blank stare into 
the gulph of the unknown! To refuse to 
proceed further because we have to take up 



SS 

a new, and it may be, more subtle and difEi- 
cult line of ai^iraent ! Or to ask ourselves 
wl^ether there is nothing among the tbiugs 
we see and know and feci that hears resem- 
blance to, and that gives utterance or indica- 
tion, however faint, of the empyrean which 
everywhere and always bounds this visible 
Cosmos ? Surely there can be no doubt that 
the latter is the proper course to pureue. At 
least this is the course which has been pursued 
hy science again and again, for it would be 
difficult to decide whether she owes the 
greater part of her discoveries to induction 
or to analogy ; to experiment or to happy 
inspiration. To inquire what answer can De 
given to such questionings has ever been the 
part of the ablest thinkers among men, and 
to such an inquiry we believe every man 
will turn according as his nature is well pro- 
portioned, and according to the complete- 
ness of the training that he has received. It 
cannot be argued that it is one without 
interest to humanity. Mr. Huxley would 
hardly, we think, class it with the inquiries 
which he likens to that concerning 'tne po- 
litics of the inhabitants of the moon.' (We' 
heard the uselessness of some scientific 
questionings illustrated by the same simile 
before it was used by that gentleman.) It 
certainly becomes of importance to ns, if it 
at all helps iis to conquer self, or to feel that 
we arc not working alone, that there is hope 
somewhere for the humanity we seek to 
help ; and if it gives us |he felt companion- 
ship of Him who is the personification of all 
that is orderly, benevolent, and good ; for 
in following this inquiry we are helped by 
what wo must persist in calling the best in- 
stincts of our nature, and by all the high, 
holy, generous enthusiasm that has ever in- 
spired mankind. This is an element of the 
case which the merely scientific man is in 
danger of forgetting, but one which bo can- 
not forget without imperilling the full disco- 
very of the truth that he professes to seek. 
If be would rightly discern the relation 
his own studies bear to the religious belief 
and instincts of the race, he 

To the earnest inquirer many answers 
will be suggested to the question we have 
just propounded; and the reverent seeker 
will not have far to look for lines of thought 
which help to connect the known with the 
unknown. A few only can bo indicated 
here. We may begin by asking the further 
question. Whether is most in accord with 
all else that we know, the assumption that 
the force we call mind, intelligence, or any 
other name, which is able to comprehend 



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Modem Scientific Inquiry and Si:Ugiou» ThougM. 



26 

time and space, and which can regulate, 
check, modify, and rearrange the other forces 
of nature, is simply the oiit^owth of other 
forces, or the assumption that these forces 
arc the well-arranged products and servants 
of mind ! The answer to this questiou is 
that the only force known to ua which is 
able to understand, to monid, to arrest, and 
to shape the elements and forces of nature is 
an intelligent will. That power wc see in con- 
stant operation. Wc feel, then, that we arc 
not departing from tlic safe path of analogy, 
or even of deduction, when we infer, from 
the observed power of thought and will to 
accomplish the rennit we see, the existence 
of an answering, all-comprehending. Infinite 
Will, which shapes and completes the vast 

flan of nature originally conceived by itself. 
t is long since the onestion was asked, 
' Canst thou by scarcning find out God, 
.canst thon find out the Almighty to perfec- 
tion ! ' and in various moods the nineteenth 
century I'Cpeats the question. Tlie answer 
rcmuns, ' to perfection we cannot,' but the 
line of thought we are pursuing may suggest 
to us some attainable knowledge concerning 
Uim. We know that what we call mind or 
thought, thongh widely spread and possess- 
ing everywhere much in common, may yet 
become personal and have locally its distinc- 
tive features. May not the infinite mind be 
the personal Godf Must it not belong to 
the attributes of the Infinite Mind to become, 
as it has been someivhere expressed, ' mani- 
fest in time and visible in space'! Wefnr- 
ther know that mind, though widely and 
variously distributed, has many points of 
contact and means of intercommunication, 
and therefore we think it right to infer that 
between the mind that plana and the mind 
that partly comprehends and helps to shape 
the plan, between the mind that controls all 
and the mind that controls a part, between 
the mind that ordains laws and the minds 
which are able to perceive the righteousness 
and beauty of the laws ordained, there must 
be innumerable points of contact and means 
of communication. It is also reoaonabte to 
snppose tha£ the communication is most con- 
stant where the affinity is greatest Tlie 
divine Ordainer of law must be in closest 
contact with those whose lives arc lived 
most in accordance with the laws which He 
has ordained. ' If any man will do His will, 
he shall know of the doctrine whether it be 
of God.* ' Blessed are the pure in heart, 
for thoy shall see God.' We do not know of 
any concluwons which are more in accord 
with true scientific induction than these ; 
and we might eitend the inquiry and show 
the bearing of the inferences upon the idea of 
a personal God ; the communication of His 



will to mankind; the phice there is for pray- 
er in the economy of nature ; the belief in im- 
mortality, and other kindred subjects ; but wc 
E refer that our readers should walk with Mr. 
eifchild among these ' higher ministries of 
nature.' Mr. Lcifchtid has been an original 
observer in natural science; but his walk 
seems for many years past to have lain more 
among the literature and generalisations of 
science, and its practical applications to the 
purposes of human life. He has fairly earn- 
ed a title to be heard on scientific questions, 
especially where these march by the side of 
human beliefs. As may be inferred from 
the title, his book cavers a wider range of 
subjects, and is therefore less special in its 
character than that of Mr. Dawson. The 
varisus philosophies which have been elabo- 
rated by Spinoza, Leibnitz, Comtc, and . 
others are passed under review, and then wc 
are introduced to the theories of Mr. Darwin 
and Mr. Wallace with the inference from 
them, and the extensions of them made by 
Mr. Ilerbert Spencer. In the concluding 
chapters the bearing of all these upon ob- 
served facts, and upon the religious beliefs 
and hopes of the race, is very clearly and 
earnestly told. Altogether the book is very 
eloquently written. The chapter on 'The 
Personal God ' is one of especial beauty and 

On the snbject of the antiquity of the hu- 
man race Mr. Leifchild is almost silent, but 
this is the other question on which Mr. 
Dawson joins issue with some of the specu- 
lations of the present day. lie very pro- 
perly notices the uncertain character of 
much of the geological evidence upon which 
a high antiquity is l)ascd ; depending as this 
docs npon tne order and position of tlie su- 
perficial deposits of 'the earth's crust. Most 
geologists will agree with ua In saying that 
of all strata these are the most diliictilt to 
correlate so as to arrive at exact conclusions 
concerning their age. We read of undis- 
turbed deposits ; but we have seen so manv 
instances of re-deposited boulder-clay, which 
in itself it was impossible to distinguish 
from the original deposit, and of modem 
deposits becoming mixed with others vastly 
more ancient, that wc receive all such state- 
ments with caution. The presence of the 
rcmainsof extinct animals with those of man 
no more of Itself proves the contempora- 
neousness of the existence of the two, than 
the occasional finding of a cannon ball 
among the tusks and bones of the £Uphai 
primogenus, which arc dredged up in the 
German Sea, proves the manufacture of can- 
non halls in the days when this elephant 
with his companions roamed at will over tho 
continuous plain of Beldam and Norfolk. 



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Modem Scientific Inquiry and Rdlgioua Thought. 



1874. 

Often, too, as we hare read Sir Charles 
Lyeti's ingeoious and elaborate calculationa 
aa to the rate of the growth of peat and 
lake ijepositt, we have felt that the basis of 
bis computations was only one among otbcrs 
equally probable, and that in building up 
his favourite hypothesis he omits important 
elements from his reckoning by leaving out 
various local causes which act at times with 
intensified force within limited areas. We 
have said thus much in order to show the 
need tlitre is for the absence of positivcness 
from at least the geological side of the rea- 
soning. At the fame time it must be allow- 
ed that, after making all necessary deduc- 
tioms there are several distinct lines of in- 
vestigation relating to tiie diversity of race, 
such as differences in colour and in the Ian- 
guf^re of mankind, which seem as if they 
could only convci^ in a much earlier origin 
of the human race than that usually assigned 
to it. Thoughtful and reverent Biblical 
scholars, as well as men of science, have felt 
this. To some of them the conviction has 
come that the black race inhabited the inte- 
rior of Africa long before the advent of 
Adam as the head of the higher races, and 
through tbcm of all mankind. Among th^ 
American Indians there is a tradition that 
the GrQat Spirit had three sons ; the first 
born was a black man ; the second a red 
man ; and the youngest, who was destined 
to conquer or absorb the children of the 
other two, a white man. Without attach- 
ing much importance to this tradition, it 
may be fairly urged that some ground is 
given in the early history of the race, as 
recorded in Genesis, to infer the existence of 
an earlier race of men and women with 
whom the newly-mnde race married and held 
communication. Dr. J. I've Smith, whose 
name will be received in these pages with 
the respect il deserves, foresaw long ^o the 

Erobability that a higher antiquity for man- 
ind would be necessitated, and, in antici- 
pating some such theory as that of tbe prior 
existence of an inferior race, argued on that 
basis for the unity of mankind and its need 
of a Redeemer. Jlia thoughts on the sub- 
ject will be found in his bi-ok, ' The Relation 
between tbe Holy Scriptures and some parts 
<>f Geological Science.' The question is also 
very reverently and ablyargned in 'The Ge- 
nesis of the Earth and Man,' a book edited 
by Mr. R. S. Poole. The subject is one on 
which we can afford to wait ; weighing and 
sifting carefully, meanwhile, the accumulat- 
ing evidence. 

If, further, we reflect that history fades 
away into myth at a distance of between 
three and four thonsand years from the prc- 
seut time, if wo think of all that has been 



27 

accomplished by the human race since then, 
and remember that, according to the chro- 
nology of the Septuagint, a period as long 
as this stretches back from the dawning of 
history to the recorded advent of man ;. 
when we remember also that tbe first man 
introduced to us in the Book of Genesis is a 
UAH who has a conception of God, who 
knows and feels the difference between right 
and wrong, whose sons built cities, and 
whose grandsons worked in brass and iron ; 
then, whether we think of him as an entire- 
ly new creation or as a higher development 
from a previously existing race, we need not 
for his advent antedate the Biblical story ; 
nor need we, as far as the Bible is concern- 
ed, trouble oursehea about his predecessors. 

In addition to the defects in scientific 
reasoning already alluded to, there is, as it 
has appeared to us, a tendency on tbe part 
of men of science, when arguing for the. 
constantly uniform operation uf natural law, 
to forget two things. The first is the way 
in which the laws of nature arc acted upon, 
and modified by each other, in innumerable 
and inconceivably diverse modes of opera- 
tion. Take, for example, the ways in which 
the law of gravitation is infiueneed by that 
of atmospheric pressure, and both in their 
turn by the application of muscular force. 
The second is that intensification of force 
which, without our accepting the old idea of 
univereal cataclysms, is seen repeatedly in th« 
violent phenomena of nature, and in those 
recurring periods of mental activity which 
arc known in the history of mankind, when 
humanity, as if moved by a mighty impulse, 
makes at a single bound the progress which 
ordinarily it would have taken centuries to 
accomplish. Both of these occur at uncer- 
tain periods, but yet doubtless happen in 
harmony with the whole of the Divine plun 
of nature. 

Is it more unreasonable to suppose that 
the higher types of life may have bad their 
origin duringsimilarperiodsof concentrated 
force, than to suppose that such types 
could only be tbe outgrowth of a lengthened 
process? Why draw so lately on time for 
what force can accomplish, and for what we 
know it has accomplished f 

Then in this power of modification and 
in these concentrations of force we have, we 
think, plenty of scope — supposing there is 
need for them — for those occurrences which 
— happening but rarely in the course of hu- 
man experience — wo call miraculous ; but 
which, if our vision could embrace a sufii- 
cient length of time, we should see falling 
into their place in the plan of nature as truly 
as variations in species or the calling into 
existence of new forms of life. All we ask 



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Induetioe TJuotogy. 



Jan. 



for is that tho Iniinitc Will should not 
fettered more than a. Suite will ; tliat, while 
the latter may so mould the forces of nature 
as to produce widely varying results, it may 
be possible, when one comes among men as 
Jesus Christ did, claiming to be to them the 
manifestation of the Divine Father, that He 
should assert His claim to be received as 
Buch, not only by the exhibition of Divine 
rectitude and wisdom, hut also by tlie dis- 
play of Divine power, and by all these 
working together in furthering the purposes 
of the Divine benevolence. 

Indeed these principles of modification 
and intensification running through the fixity 
of separate laws, seem necessary for the soli- 
darity of the whole fabric, and their impor- 
tance becomes more apparent as we reach 
tha region of human sius and human striv- 
ings. If this be true, as we believe and feci 
it is, we can readily see how for mpn Reek- 
ing foi^veness, struggling to do the right 
but often failing in the attempt, there needs 
a woof of love to run through the fixed warp 
of law. That modifying principle, wo 
think, finds its highest manifestation to men 
in the life and death of Jesus Christ. 

We have great need for a thoughtful 
reading of the Bible, and for power to dis- 
criminate between what it docs teach, and 
what men, with less light to read it by, 
thought that it taught. If we would only 
interpret the narrative in Genesis, as we in- 
terpret psalms and prophecies, liberally and 
often figuratively ; if theologians were only 
williog to lake as much - liberty with it as 
they lio with other parts of Scripture; we 
need never fear the conflict of the claims of 
science and revelation. The record in Ge- 
nesis would be to us the simply sublime 
psalm of creation, as sung by a prophet who 
possessed the true seer's power of beholding 
and recording events of the past, as well as 
of anticipating events of the future. It 
would be to us as it ought to be, placed 
where it is, marvellously true in its grand 
outline to the latest discoveries of science, 
and standing as far ahead of merely human 
cosmogonies as man himself stands in ad- 
vance of the highest creature below him. 

It should be alike the duty aud pleasure 
of religious teachers to discover points of 
accord Det ween the story of creation written 
there and the story written on the strata 
under their feet. It will be found an exer- 
cise, alike profitable and pleasant for such 
men, to search out and classify the many al- 
lusions to nature which the Old Testament 
contains. We speak of the progressive cha- 
racter of revelation, and rightly ; but it is 
nevertheless true that just as m childhood 
there are fiashes of intelligence, which for . 



I vividness are never execlled in afterlife, and 
as in the early morning we sometimes have 
a purity of light which the day never sur- 
passes in clearness, so in the very early his- 
tory of mankind there were conceptions of 
truth, and anticipations of the questionings 
and discoveries of science in these later 
days, which we can account for only on the 
theory that the human mind must have been 
in close contact with the Divine Mind ; in 
other words, that 'holy men of old spake as 
they were moved by the Holy Ghost' 

In conclusion, we ask the theologian to 
cultivate a close and loving acquaintance 
with nature, and the man of science to stand 
with fitting reverence on the threshold of 
human hopes and beliefs, nor on his part to 
forgot whence so many of the noblest and 
saintliest of the race have drawn the inspira- 
tion of their faith and found the sourec of 
their strength. 



Art. Ill, — Inductive Theology. 



We are so made that we must theorize, 

must theologize even. As men with dis- 
course of reason, we cannot be content with 
isolated and unconnected facts, however 
numerous or momentous they may be ; we 
must attem] t to group and classify them, to 
bring them under some ruling principle, 
some general law. Above all, we must ar- 
range our facts in sequences; we must be 
able to say, ' This springs from that,' 
or, 'If this be so, then that will fol- 
low.' In short, we instinctively argue up- 
ward from elTects to their cause, or down- 
ward from a cause to its cficcta. It is in 
this ' discourse of reason * that science has 
had its origin. Take astronomy as an ex- 
ample. In the heaven above na there are 
certain facts, or phenomena, which men 
could not fail to observe ; as, for instance, 
the rising and setting of the sun, the waxing 
and waning of the moon, the regular recur 
rence of the stars, at certain periods, along 
a fixed path or orbit. Merely to observe and 
record these facts was not enough for reaso- 
nable man, lie was compelled by his very 
nature to reason, i.e., to theorize upon them, 
to seek for some law under which thev 
might be ranged, for some cause to whlcli 
they iniglit be traced. He could not but 
osk, ' From what does the regular order and 
recurrence of these phenomena spring ? ' And 
after other answers to the question had been 
given and accepted for a time, he lit on that 
which satisfies him to this day, in the law of 



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1874. 

gravitation. Tliis law is simply an inference, 
an hypotlicsia, a theory ; but it accounts for 
tlie astronomical facts as no other theory 
docs : and in this, therefore, at U'sst for the 
present, and till some wider generalization 
be reached, tlic tnaiiisitivo reason of man rests 
and is satisfied. Thus, from a mullitudo of 
cftecta, scattered through the universe, man 
has argued up to a cause, or law, to which 
thoy may all be referred. 

]Jut now, having reached a cause, he forth- 
with bc^na to argue downward from that 
cause to its necessary effects. He observea, 
for instance, certain ' perturbations,' certain 
deviations from their orbit, on the part of 
those planets which arc at the furthest re- 
move from the sun. For these ' perturba- 
tions ' be must account. Accordingly he 
reasons thus: — 'Gravitation is the law. It 
must be the attraction of gravitation which 
draws these planets from their path.. To 
draw bodies of such a magnitude so far from 
their orbits, there must be another planet in 
the solar system not seen as yet ; and this 
planet must be of such and such a weight, 
and move in such and such an orbit, if it is 
to produce tlje observed effects,' And, hav- 
ing thus, with at least as mach/aith ea wis- 
dom, predetermined the existence, place, and 
m^nitude of an undiscovered world, he 
bends the telescope on the predicted point, 
and the planet Neptune swims into sight. 

Thus science is simply our reading, our 
theory, of natural facts ; and we reach this 
theory by arguing up from effects to their 
cause, or by ai^uing down from a cause to 
its effects. 

We pnrsue precisely the same method, the 
method of science in dealing with the facts 
of human character and life When, for ex- 
ample, a great man has closed his career, and 
we recall the facta of his life, we instantly be- 
gin to theorize upon them. We cannot leave 
them a mere disorderly and contradictory 
jumble of separate actions. Wo want to re- 
duce them to order, to bring them under law, 
to find a centre round which we may group 
them. And so especially if we have to write 
his memoir or his epitaph, we try to disco- 
ver what his ruling principle or affection 
was, — whether he was actuated by ambition, 
for inslaoce, or patriotism, or pride, by the 
love of weahh or the love of learning, the 
love of self or the love of man. Accurately 
or inaccurately we frame our conception of 
his character, his dominant impulse, his ani- 
mattug principle ; and under this we arrange 
the multitude of hin actions, desires, aims. 
Thus we get a law for our facts, a cause for 
the effects we have observed. 

The dramatist pursues precisely the oppo- 
site course. Instead of arguing upward from 



Inductive Theology, 



29 

facts to their causes or law, he asanmos a 
cause, and a>gnea downward to its effects. 
He knows that a ecitain ruling principle, — 
as ambition or vanity, benevolence or justice, 
— will work out in certain ways, produce 
certain results. And, having conceived his 
imaginary character, be invents situations 
ill which that character is tested, developed, 
disclosed. Through scene after scene we 
see the ruling vice displayed or corrected, 
the ruling virtue unfolded or blighted. 

Reasonable man mu(f reason, I'.e,, ho must 
theorize ; he must trace effects to their 
cause, and argue from the cause to the 
effects it will infallibly produce. Why, 
then, may he not theologize? or why, as we 
are so loudly told at the present day, should 
there be a necessary' and fatal hostility be- 
tween the scientific and the theological me- 
thods of thought, an hostility which forbids 
a man of science to bo a sincere and devout 
bi'lievcr t Theology is, or should be, as sci- 
entific in its method as science itself; it is, 
or should be, a careful induction from ob- 
served and recorded facts : it is, or should 
be, a sincere endeavour to trace effects to 
their cause, or from a cause t« deduce its 
necessary effects. In the physical universe, 
in the history of man, and in our own hearts, 
we find a multitude of facts which proclwin 
the existence of God, which indicate his 
character and our relations to Him. Aro 
these the only facts on which we must not 
reason, of which we arc to shape no largo 
and consistent theory t Must we pause 
here, and decline to pursue the path we fol- 
low in every other province of thought? 
Nay, our only hope of reconciling science 
and theology is to make our thcoli^ truly 
scientific, to base it on honest inductions, to 
show that, if the truths of revelation could 
not have been discovered by human reason, 
they nevertheless accord with the reason 
which they transcend. 

Is that impossible! It is by no means 
impossible. We need to remember, indeed, 
that science is only a provisional reading of 
the facts of nature ; that the scientific inter- 
pretation of the universe differs in every age, 
changing with the changing time, taking 
new and larger forms as the years pass : 
that even since the beginning of the present 
century it lias had at least three shiblKileths 
— Convulsion, Continuity, and Evolution — 
and has stoutly declared it necessary to our 
scientific salvation that we should pronounce 
each of them in turn. And, in like manner, 
wo need to remember that theology is but a 
proviMonal reading of the facts of religion ; 
that it is hut a human, imperfect, and evcr- 
varjing interpretation of the contents of 
Scripture, and changes its forms aud terms at 



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Inductive 7%eology. 



least as rapidly as science itself. The com- 
moneet pbraaea of oar divinity scIiooIh — 
such as ' docuniCDtary hypothesis,' ' Elohis- 
tic and Jehovistic scriptures' — were nn- 
knonn to our fathers, 'I'he great facts of 
religion and revelation remain the same, in- 
deca, through all ages and change!), as do 
the great facts of nature. But our interpre- 
tations of these facts vary, our theories 
about them change; they grow larger and 
more complete as men grow wiser, Ood does 
not change, nor do his relations to men ; but 
OUT ronceptiom of Him and of our relations 
to Him are very different from those of the 
early fathers of the Church ; just as our con- 
ceptions of the universe are a great advance 
upon those which were held before Galileo 
arose and Kepler and Newton. 

And, hence, when men talk glibly of re- 
conciling Scripture with science, if they 
mean anything tnore than a sincere attempt 
to bring the scientific theory of the moment 
into accord with (fte current interpretation of 
Scripture, they arc guilty of a manifest ab- 
surdity ; for we know neither the Scriptures 
nor science: tliere is more and even much 
more, in both, than we have yet discovered. 
If, indeed, we had cither the truth of science 
or the truth of .Scriptnre in its absolute 
forms at our command, the task would not 
be so hopeless as it is ; for, in that ease, we 
should have at least one constant and unva- 
rying standard. But the theology of to-day 
is not the theology of yesterday, nor is the 
science of to-day the science of yesterday. 
The Church's interpretation of the Bible, 
like the scientific interpretation of the uni- 
verse, is ever changing, and, let us hope, 
ever advancing: as how should it not, if 
God is really conducting the educaljon of 
the human race, if now * we know but in 
part,' and yet are ' to know even as also we 
are known ' f 

Now this fact, that both our science and 
our theology are but human and provisional 
interpretations of eternal facts, should be 
well borne in mind both by the thcolt^ian 
and by the man of science, since it conduces 
to modesty, patience, forbearance. It for- 
bids dogmatism, and that tendency to judge 
and condemn those who differ from us, 
which is as pronouncd in scientific as in 
religious men, and which does equal discre- 
dit to both. It encourages the hope that as 
' knowledge grows from more to more,' the 
theories of science and the interpretations of 
theology ' may make one music as before, 
but vaster.' But it docs not forbid, it en- 
courages, any thoughtful and sincere attempt 
to adjust the present results of scientific in- 
vestigation to the conclusions which have 
been drawn from a devout study of tlic 



Jan. 

Bible, imperfect as no doubt both are: for 
it is only as the provisional generalisations 
of science and theology are fairly stated and 
compared that we can learn where as yet 
our knowledge is defective, which of onr 
conclusions are dubious and need revision, 
and so be urged on to a more patient and 
generous <iuest of truth. Above all, since 
we live in an ^e dominated by the scienti- 
fic method of thought, we should endeavour 
to adopt this method in our theological dis- 
cusMons and inquiries. It is not by setting 
ourselves against the spirit of the age, but by 
yielding to it so far as we honestly may, 
that we arc likely both to win the age to 
God, and to win for ourselves a wider know- 
ledge of the tnith. We are followers of 
Him who spake the truth ' as men were able 
to bear it ' He who spake nothing without 
a proverb or parable to men who daily heard 
proverb and parable in their synagogues and 
schools, were He with us now, would surely 
speak to us in the scientific spirit and me- 
thod which are shaping the age in which wo 
live. 

In the spirit of humility, then, fully con- 
scions that we know but in p^ we should 
endeavour to frame for ourselves, in the me- 
thod of science, a theology, which ^all also 
be a gospel — veritable good news of redemp- 
tion and life to us and to all men. We muil 
frame such a theology. If we are to retain onr 
place and function in the world, if we are to 
save the world from the nnrest and misery 
of a life without God. It is to be feared 
that the Church is largely answerable for the 
scepticism of the world. It is very much 
because we liave presented the truth in a 
hard dogmatic way, because wc have not 
even endeavoured to show how reasonahle it 
is, that we have failed to convince ar.d per- 
suade ' them that are without.' And cow, 
at last, we have reached a point at which 
many who are within the pale are giving up 
theology even if they do not also give up 
religion — a point at which many who do be- 
lieve are likely to lose their faith, unless we 
rise to the occasion, and commend the truth 
to their reason as well as to their heart 

And why should we not set ourselves to 
this task, why not seek to present the truth 
on its rea««nable and persuasive side, rather 
than to announce it with authority, and to 
denounce as sinners all who do not accept 
our conceptions of it 1 There are facta 
enough at our command both in the nni- , 
verse and in the Bible ; and we shall not 
alter the facts by changing the point from 
which we view them ; we shall not be un- 
faithful to the truth by endeavouring so to 
conceive it as to make it tell on our genera- 
tion. All we shall do will be to re-arrange 



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Inductive 7%eolofft/. 



1874. 

and te-'claasify the facte, to hring them under 
general laws, to reason from tbem npward 
and downward, to weave them into a large 
and coDBJstcDt tlieory. 

It will be our aim, then, in the pages 
which follow, to apply the scientific method 
to a few of the most familiar and fundamen- 
tal troths of religion ; and thns to indicate 
the line which, as we believe, it will be our 
wisdom to tahe in presenting the whole cir- 
cle of Christian doctrine to the men of our 
day and generation. 

I, But where shall we begin t Instinc- 
tively, we berrin with God. And as the 
origin of all religion is the search for God, 
OS, moreover, our whole tbeologv takes its 
complexicfc from our conception of the 
character of God, the prompting of spiritual 
instinct is confirmed by reason. We begin 
with God, then, .and we ask, we endeavour 
to infer, not that }Ie is — we do not now 
touch that question — but what He is, to de- 
duce his character from the facts before us, 
to learn how He stands related to us and to 
the universe in which we dwell. And here 
our task is comparatively easy and simple. 
'Without efibrt, we may frame a conception 
of God by the inductive method, such a 
conception as science itself may welcome 
and approve. We are on familiar ground, 
and may go lightly over it 

(1.) First of all we turn to the physical 
world for our facts; and here, in Nature, 
we fiud everywhere the reign of law. All 
things — plants, animals, men; sun, moon, 
and stars ; even storms, comets, meteors, 
with whatever seems most erratic — fulfil the 
law of their being. This law they did not 
impose on themselves, for they cannot re- 
peal it though they often rebel against it; 
it is imposed on them by a superior power, 
a power which rewards obedience and 
avenges disobedience. Man, for instance, is 
obviously under a law of health, against 
which he often sins, but which he cannot 
annul, however painful may he the results of 
bis disobedience to that law. And so, 
throughout the natural world, we find a law 
independent of the will of the creatures, 
superior to them, supreme over them, capa- 
ble, as we say, of asserting and aveng- 
ing itself. Whence does this law come? 
and who administers it! Pur, of eourrte, no 
law can really administer or assert itself. 
There must be some one behind and above 
the law. ' Law ' is only our name for a 
sequence, for a method of action, for a right 
or an invariable method. It implies the ex- 
istence of a power, or person, whose method 
it is, whose will it expresses. The laws of 
nature can no more administer themselves 
tbfui the laws of the land. Just as the laws 



of the land imply the existence of an 
authority, a magistrate, who will act on 
them and assert them, so the laws of natnre 
bear witness to nn unseen force, or power, 
or person, who imposes and enforces them, 
rewarding those who obey, punishing those 
who violate them. This power we call God. 
We ascribe to a personal and Divine source 
what Matthew Arnold is content to name 
that ' stream of tendency by which all things 
fulfil the law of their being ; ' for we know 
of no stream which does not flow from some 
source, and we know of no adequate source 
of universal law save the Maker of heaven 
and earth. So that our first and simplest 
conception of God, the conception we derive 
from the facta of the physical universe, is 
that He ia the source of physical law. 

He, moreover, who imposes and adminis- 
ters the laws of nature must be both om- 
nipotent and all-wise, i.e., there arc no 
bounds that we can conceive whether to his 
wisdom or power. Water, fire, air, plants, 
animals, the physical nature of man, in 
short, all the great natural forces, through 
all tbeir products, however many and 
various, compose one world. Nay, more ; 
science emphatically dedares that all worlds, 
all the inmimerable host of heaven, compose 
one universe. All are dependent the one on 
the other, all interact on each other, and 
come under one and the same series of phy- 
sical sequences. We cannot, therefore, as 
the pre-scientific ages did, parcel out the 
universe among a multitude' of separate 
deities. Science knows of no pantheon. 
There must be one dominant and supreme 
power which rules over all And this 
power, which sits behind the laws of nature, 
must be inconceivably great and wise. If it 
were not wise and strong beyond our reach 
of thought, the universe, instBad of being a 
harmony of invariable and beneficent se- 
quences, would break into ruinous and ir- 
remediable confusion ; disaster would tread 
on the heels of disaster, and tbe end would 
be destruction and death. What, then, shall 
we call this power! how name it ) We call 
it God. Others, hiding their ignorance in 
unmeaning and self -contradictory phrases, 
may call it ' the stream of tendency,' ignor- 
ing the fonntMu from which the stream 
flows. We say that law implies a lawgiver, 
that power implies a person from whom it 
proceeds; and we worship God as the »ole 
source of the forces and laws of nature.* 



* It is DO part of nor present task, or aim. to 
demonstrate tlie existence of a personal God 
But asnisii; who finwp tiie conce] tion of a force 
or power bb Bhapinf; and cnntrollins: ilie natural 
anlverse, seem to Uave an insuperable difDculty 
In rising to the conception of a Divine Poraoo, 



awGoOgIc 



as 

(2.) Agftiti, when we pass from the pby- 
sic&l univeree to consider tbc nature and his- 
tory of Man, we meet with facta which con' 
duct us to a new and lofder concepOoti of 
God. For in man and his story we find 
moral BS well as a physical law. From the 
very first there has been in all races, how- 
ever they have differed in character, capaci- 
ty, culture, a sense of right and wrong. 
This sense may vary, and does vary, but it 
grows clearer and fuller as the stream of 
time rolls on. Despite all its variations, 
moreover, the dictates of this moral sense 
are more uniform in essentials than we 
Bometiraes think. All races, for example, in 



Indtictive TJieology. 



.Jan. 



the Creator and moral Governor of Ibe universe, 
we comiuiind to their consideration Professor 
ProhBliamtner's masterly solution of tlie problem. 
In bis review of ^trauss's bonk on ' Tbe Old and 
tile New FnltliB,' he writes :— ' The aewrtion 
tliat tlic notion of personslit j implies limitation, 
and is applicable onl/ to what is finite and rela- 
tive, but not to tbe absolule, is taken from 
Ftchte, and is by no means correct. Tbis will 
be clearly shown by a deeper consldi^ratlon of 
tbe essential elements of peraoDslity, These are 
—existence, consciousness of this existence, and 
control over it. Distinction fritin, and therefore 
limitalion by others, is not an essential element 
of personality, but an sccldenlal siffn of relative 
personalitj*. An absolute personality cannot 
therefore bn said to bo impossible; for it itiay 
find tn Uulf, in the conititutat eUmentt of it* 
estuteaee, without tbe necessltj of anj other 
beings, tbe distinctiunB nectssnry for personal 
conscioiisneBB. (The careful reader will see how 
fine a glimpse this sentence u'lvea us into tbe 
doctrine of the Trinity,) And as distinction 
from others and limitation by them. Is not one 
of tbe essential elements of personality, neither 
is iiersonullty essentially subject to limitation in 
regard to action. Fersonalitv, self-conscious- 
ness, and freedom of the wlil, is rather the 
power of breaking tb rough tbe narrow limits of 
relative monadic existence, of expanding into 
tbe inSnlto by consclenenesB and will, of rising 
above itself, and on the other band, of receiving 
tbe inHnite into its own consciousness. Tbe 
more a man cultivates his Idiosyncratic nstnre, 
the more independent he l>ecomeB in knowledge 
and the exercise of tbe will, the more be sniHces 
for himself, snd tbe less need he has of otliera. 
According to Htrauss's theory, tba more perfect 
the personality the greater liie limitation. 

' Moreover, the Divine absolnte personalltj 
cannot !>« altogether compared wltli humaa 
personality. The Divine Being cannot be mch- 
out t/ie per/eelion which manifitU iUetf in Vie 
human per»onality, at the higJtett of lohieh ioe 
have any k/ioteledge. If we delioe Ood by otlier 
predicates of earlbly perfection, we must not 
deny Him tlie highest phase of It. must not re- 
gard Him as leu than periinnl. That would be 
lin perfection. Tlie personality of the aljsolute 
mnst be of a higher and more intensified kind 
than human personality. It may be said, there- 
fore, that God is super-personal. His pennnalily 
Includes the essential elements of man's person- 
ality. Bat it is also aliaoluie in a nay that 
transcends man's comprebendon.' — Con tempo- 
rary Review. 



all ajiea, have felt that it was wrong' to rob 
or kill a neighbour, that they were bound to 
help and defend blm. The diflicutty has 
been to determine the question, ' Who is my 
neighbour)' At first, men held that only 
the members of their own family wero 
neighbours in a sense that made them 
sacred from wrong ; then, only the men of 
their own sept, or elan ; then, only the 
members of their own nation, empire, con- 
federacy : it is only of late that we have be- 
gun to learn that every man is our neigh- 
bour, even thongh ho should also be onr 
enemy. Still, the recognised neigUbonr has 
always been sacred, if not in fact, yet ac- 
cording to the law written on the heart. 
Science admits the exisitencc and the growth 
of this moral sense; it admits, it proclums 
that, throughout tlie complex and troubled 
story of our race, a moral. law has revealed 
itself, a sense of light and wrong which has 
grown at once more pure snd more authori- 
tative as the centuries have elapsed. 

Whence did this moral sense come, this 
inward law ! and whence did it derive the 
imperious authority with which it speaks? 
Obviously, men have not imposed it on 
themselves, lliey have been in constant 
and notorious rebellion against it ; and, 
much as they have suffered from it, they 
have never been able to throw it off. It 
does not change as they change, nor does it 
die when they die. Clearly, then, it comes 
from an 'austere and an enduring authority' 
which sits high above men, and all the ages 
and changes of time. This authority we 
name God; we claim for Him that moral 
sense which expresses itself in the laws of 
human morality, that conscience which is 
for ever excusing men, or else accusing them, 

all they do. It is simply absurd to call 

the inward voice ' the voice of nature ; ' for, 

we have just seen, ' Nature is but the 

ime of an effect whose cause is God.' It 

equally absurd to call the dictates of the 
moral sense ' the moral law,' as though that 
accounted for its power; for, as we have 
also seen, no law can impose and administer 
itself. There must be winy behind law, or 
there cbuld be no law. So that our second 
conception of God is, that lie is the light of 
every man that cometh into the world, that 
He is ' the power that makes for righteous- 
ness' throughoat the troubled story of 
humanity. 

(3.) Can we get no further than this in our 
endeavour to think God according to the 
method of science) Surely we may. If 
act on the Platonic saying, ' To find God, 
look within,' if we study our own hearts, we 
may rise to another and still loftier concep- 
tion of Him. Wc have seen that lie mad« 



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X874. 

ns, not we onreclves : snd timt He rules ns, 
Dot we onrselveH. We may ba sure, there- 
fore, tbat we derive from him whatever is ^ood 
in ourselves, and etill more, whatever is beat. 
The stream cannot rise above its source, nor 
the creature above the Creator. 

'He who reflects upon himself,' siys Ploti- 
Dus, ' reflects upon his own original, and fiods 
the clearest impresRion of some eternal nature 
and perfect being stomped upon his own souL' 
' God,' 8»yH a modem Platonist and divinp,* 
' has so copied forth himself into the whole life 
and enei^y uf man's soul as that the lovely cha- 
racters of divinity may be most easily seen and 
read of all men within themsolves ; as they say 
Phidias, the famous statuary, after he had nude 
the sCitue of Minerva, with the greatest ^- 
quisiteness of art, to be set up in the Acropolis 
' at Athens, afterwards impressed his own image 
so deeply in her buckler that no one could de- 
lete or efface it without destroying the whole 
statue. And if we would know what the im- 
preii of souls is, it is nothing but God Him- 
self, who could not write his own naioe, so as 
that it might be read, but only in rational na- 

And in these hearts of ours, weak and way- 
ward as they are, we find a wonderful and 
blessed capacity of love, which is the spring 
of all that we hold to be best and noblest in 
human character and history, — of pity, com- 
passion, friendship, heroic labour and self- 
sacrifice. Selfishness is the root of all sin ; 
love is ' the conqoering opposite' of selfish- 
ness. Tbis love, then, is the prime gift of 
God to man. He who gives love, and gives 
it so lamely, and gives it to so many, must 
not He himself have love and be love ! Love 
is the very life and crovm of manhood ; and 
therefore we may be sure that 'God is lore.' 
May we ? How, then, do we account for the 
innumerable miseries that are in the world ! 
How can God, if God be love, endure to im- 
pose so many cruel pains and losses upon us ? 
But are they really cruel ! Moses often 
seemed hard to the children of Israel. They 
thought it hard tbat ho should lead them out 
into the desert, that he should harass them 
with enactments the value of whicli they 
could not perceive. But was he therefore 
hard ! The desert was the way to the goodly 
land. Onlv as thev obeyed the enactments 
he impose<i could tney rise above themselves, 
and become free and holy and good. Tlie 
fact is that every wise man must seem hard 
to those who are less wise. If they are much 
loss wise and good than he, he will seem to 
be for ever pursuing an impossible ideal, for 
ever seeking to mise them, by aostere and 
painful methods, to a virtue and wisdom they 
cannot value as yet. Every mler, in propor- 



Induetive TVieology. 



" John Bmith, of Cambridt^. 
vou Lii. B — 3 



33 

tion as he is wise, and his empire is large, 
and he has many and great interests to con- 
sult, must seem, at times, to be indifferent to 
the interests of this province or that, must call 
on this man and that to sacrifice himself, or 
much that he loves, for the general good. 
And Qod is very wise ; his empire is very 
large. To me, to you, He will often seem 
indifferent or austere, when He is but Bcek- 
ing the greater good of all. To us all. He 
will seem hard, even cruel at limes, as He 
leads Bs through the desert to the better land, 
through the painful corrections of law to a 
free and stable virtue. The very perfection 
of his lore, which impels Him to make us 
partakers of His Divine Nature, will often 
cloud his love from us ; and we shall not al- 
ways see that ' every cloud that veileth love, 
itself is love.' But if we have convinced 
ourselves that He is in very deed the source 
of law in the physical universe; if we have 
fnrther convinced ourselves that He is the 
Power that makes for righteousness through- 
out the history of humanity ; if, above all, we 
have convinced ourselves that Be is that Di- 
vine Fountain of love from which our love 
springs, let us at least admit that there must 
he much in Him which as yet we cannot 
comprehend. Do we, much as we know of 
it, comprehend the natural world ? Do we 
comprehend the whole human story, though 
of this, too, we know -much? Can we so 
much ns fathom our own hearts! How, 
then, should we comprehend Him who ad- 
ministers the laws of nature, who shapes the 
story of man, who is the source of all that ie 
deepest in us and best ? 

Here, then, by the scientific method of in- 
ference and induction, we reach a threefold 
conception of God, a conception which we 
may fairly hope that even those who are 
most deeply imbued with the spirit of the 
age will feel t« be a reasonable conception. 
We find Him in nature, in history, in man ; 
and we conclude Him to be the vital source 
of physical law, the Power that makes for 
righteousness, and the Fountain of all love 
and goodness. 

II. Bid space permit, it would be easy to 
vindicate this conception against all comers 
and all the objections thej could urge. But 
there is little need to vindicate it, since those 
whobeheve in HGodatall,and with these alone 
are we for the present concerned, can hardly 
think of Him as less than the Lord of the uni- 
verse, the providence of man, and the origin 
of all that is good and divine. With cheer- 
ful and unforced accord tbcy repeat the first 
article of the Christian Creed, ' I believe in 
God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven 
and earth.' It is only when we come to the 
second article of the Creed, 'And in Jesus 



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Inductive Theology. 



Chnst liis only Son, our Lord,' that many of 
tlicin part company vitli us, or are tempted 
to part company \vith us. That God i%, and 
that He is good, they cordially admit; but 
that ' God was in Christ, reconciling the world 
unto himself,' ihey doubt, or, at the best, they 
doubt whether this conception can be reaciied 
in the scientific method. If it be revealed to 
faith, they cannot see bow it accords with 
reason. At the very outset they ask, ' la it 
reasonable to conceive of God as manifold, 
instead of simple ; as having at least a dual 
instead of a single personality ; as being Fa- 
ther and Son, instead of being one Lord over 
all?' A little further on they ash, 'But is it 
reasonable to conceive of Ood as becoming 
man, in order to reveal himself to men)' 
And still further tbey ask, ' Is not the reve- 
lation of God attributed to the Man Chnst 
Jesus opposed to that conception of Ilim 
which reason frames V Now that God wai 
in Christ, we hold to be not only true, but 
reasonable, i.e., demonstrably true, although 
this truth invoh'es such profound mysteries 
as the supernatural and miraculous revelation 
of God to man, and the doctrines of the' 
Tnnitr and the Incarnation. 

Tradition relates that St Augustine was 
one day wandering by the sea, plunged in 
thought, and meditaUng the plan of a work 
on the Trinity, when he saw a boy playing on 
Uie beach, and making a ditch in the sand. 
, When the great theologian of the Western 
Church asked him what he was doing, the 
boy replied, ' I want to empty the sea into 
my ditch.' ' And am not I trying to do the 
.same as this child,' said Augustine to him- 
self, ' in seeking to exhaust with my reason 
the infinity of God, and to collect it within 
the limits of my own mind ) ' We are not 
so childish as to think that we can empty the 
sea into our ditch. And, therefore, we do 
not undertake to explain and prove all the 
great mysteries involved iu the Incaraa' 
tion and Redemption of Christ. Bat, in 
some fashion, we must all speak of these 
mysteries, and we ought to speak of them, so 
far as possible, in a reasonable way. And, 
therefore, we shall endeavour to show Iiow 
they may be stated, so as to commend them- 
selves to the reason of reasonable men, and 
to obviate the objections to which we have 
referred. 

(I.) And, first, we afiirm that it is reasona- 
ble to conceive of the Divine Nature aa in- 
cluding the Son no less than the Father : 
even the doctrine of the proper deity of 
Christ, nay, even the doetriuc of the Trinity, 
has a logical aspect and basis. We have 
seen that God is tlie source of all that is good, 
that we can nowhere find any kind of good- 
ness which is not in Him. But is there not 



Jan. 

a goodness in trust as well as in being trust- 
worthy f Is there not a goodness in receiv- 
ing as well as in giving i Is there not a 
goodness in obeying freely as well as in 
ruling rightly ! Is it not good to be patient, 
humble, and meek, to sufier and sacriUce 
oneself for others ? Is not this passive and 
dependent goodness even more pathetic and 
winning than an aetivc and bounliful good- 
ness 1 Must not, then, this more pathetic 
goodness be in God, the source of all good f 
Must not I£e trust as well as deserve trust, 
obej' as well as rule, suffer and make sacri- 
fices, as well as lavishly -bestow the gifts of 
his Divine bounty ? Is it not therefore rea- 
sonable to conceive that, in the Divine Na- 
ture and Being, there is and ever has been a 
Son as well as a father, an Eternal Son as . 
well as the Father Everlasting ; a Son to trust 
aa well as a Father to invite trust ; a Sou to 
obey as well as a Father to command ; a 
Son to receive as well as a Father to give ; a 
Son to make sacrifice as well as a Father to 
accept and bless the sacrifice ! Such a con- 
ception is reasonable ; it is most reasonable ; 
for reason itself demands that goodness of 
every kind should be found in God ; and 
how should the passive and dependent forms 
of goodness be in the sovereign Ruler of the 
universe, if his beiug were not manifold, if it 
did not inchide more 'persons' than one! 

Nor, in framing and holding tills conception, 
do we call in question, wc rather eonhrm the 
unity of God, as that holy and gifted divine, 
Thomas Erakinc, has conclusively shown. For 
union there must be more than one. Unity 
imphes many lines running op into one cen- 
tre, many threads woven into one pattern, 
many notes sounding in a smgle concord, 
many figures harmonized into a ^ngle com- 
position, many members united in one body, 
many elements at accord in a single nature, 
many persons drawn into one society and 
informed by one spirit. So that our most 
reasonable idea of God is this : that lie is as 
a centre in which all forms of goodness meet 
and blend, the passive as well as the. active, 
trust as well as bounty, obedience aa well as 
authority. Nay, we roost reasonably con- 
ceive the very unity of God when we main- 
tain his trinity, when we think of the Divine 
Nature as including the Father and Son, uni- 
ted by one and the selfsame Spirit, and as 
tlierefore dwelling together in an eternal con- 
cord of love. 

Thus the first objection to the troth that 
God was in Christ ' may be Ic^cally met. 
Reason itself caimot account for the origin 
of many forms of moral goodness save as it 
admits the existence of an Eternal Son, 
dwelling in the bosom of the Father, and 
sharing one Spirit with Him. 



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1574. 



Induct tee Theology. 



(2.) A;;ain, Revelation and the Incarna- 
tion, ID which the revelation of God to mea 
c 111 mi nates, are no less reasoDable than the 
doelriDe of the Trinity. That God has 
spokcQ to men, that God wag in Christ when 
lie dwelt among us, accords with our beat 
conceptions both of God and man. Rc- 
iQCmber, we liavc admitted that God is of a 
perfect goodness, that He is the Fountain of 
Charity; that, in liis manifold yet single 
Being, as Father, Son, and Spirit, He has 
the means of showing forth all forms of love 
and goodacBs, passive as well as active, tlie 
goodness that trusts and suffers and obeys, 
no let's than that which bestows gifts, and 
wins trust, and utters commands. Being of 
a perfect and complete goodness, holding his 
creatures ia a boundless affection, is it not 
reasonable to believe that, if they need to 
see Him, He will show Himself to them ; 
that, if they need to hear his voice, lie will 
speak to them ? It is reasonable. lievek' 
tion is an easy inference fi'om the Divine 
goodness. If it be requisite for our welfare 
and for our highest welfare that we should 
see and bear God, we may be sure that lie 
will reveal Himself to us. 

But u it requisite 1 

We contend that it wat requisite, that the 
welfare of the human .race imperatively de- 
manded the revelation of God. For man, 
by searching, cannot find out God to per- 
fection. Tiiough the Father of an infinite 
majesty has displayed bis glory in the laws 
and pbcuomcna of the physical universe, and 
impressed his image on the soul of man ; 
though, by the instructed mind, bis eternal 
power and Godhead may be clearly seen in 
the things that are made; and though man 
was created in the likeness of God in a 
sense so high as to enable God to take 
the likeness of man, yet men were un- 
able to discover lltm, to be sure of Him, 
to draw near to Him, in trust and love. 
By the mouth of its ablest and most 
cultivated sons, the ancient world confess- 
ed that it had not found God, though it 
hud long groped after Him, if haply it mi^ht 
find niin. In all literature there is nothini:; 
more pathetic than the wail of despair which 
sounds through the utterances of the most 
gifted philosophers and poets of Greece and 
Home. With one voice they confess that 
their quest after God had miserably failed. 
' We must wait' they said with Plato, 'fbr 
tome one, be he god or inspired man, to 
tukeaway the darknestfrmn our eyes' Tkeij 
felt, therefore, that, though the well-being of 
man imperatively required the knowledge of 
God, men could not discover Him for tnem- 
selves; that this knowledge could only be at- 
tained as, in his own person, or through in- 



spired men, God deigned to speak and to re- 
veal Himself to mankind. 

Consider, ^rain, how men are touched and 
moved. Mere words have but comparatively 
little influence over us. Inferences, deduc- 
tions, the whole train of logic may pass 
through our minds without once reaching the 
heart. We may be convinced that there is 
a God, and that He is wise and good, by 
aqjumenta drawn from the facts of nature 
and from the human story ; and yet no one 
of these arguments shall kindle any flame of 
love in us, or elicit an v response of reverence 
and aifection. It is by actions, and aeljons 
which we can see and comprehend, that we 
are really kindled and moved. The cry of a 
child or the sigh of a woman touches us far 
more profoundly than the most cogent de- 
monstration or the most eloquent harangue. 
The sight of an heroic deed fires and en- 
grosses us as no mere description of even far 
greater heroism would do. So tliat, if we 
are to bo moved by God, if we are to be kin- 
dled into a love for Him by which |our evil 
lusts may be c)>pelled,God inm,ishou!j{imself 
to us. If the world is to be kindled into 
love for Him, and this love is to become its 
ruling affoclion, He must come and dwell 
in the world. He must be seen, and heard, 
and handled. He must do, under our very 
eyes, deeds of heroic love and self-sacnficc 
which we can never foi^et, never cease to 
honour and admire. He has come. He has 
dwelt among us, lived with us, died for us. 
God iBas in Christ, to meet our need, to reveal 
his kindness and love t'lward us and toward 
all men. The infirmity of our nature re- 
quired his advent; the goodness of his na- 
ture prompted his advent. We needed Him, 
and He csrne. Men saw Him, and were con- 
quered. 

Was it not reasonable that He should 
come ; Must not He who is all-wise and all- 
good satisfy the profoundest need of the 
creatures whom He made in his own image, 
after his own likeness ; and satisfy it in the 
way most likely to move and impress and re- 
deem them ! H we may reason upward 
from the facts of nature and human life to 
God as their cause, may we not also, having 
found in God the Fountain of all love and 
goodness, reason downward from Him to 
Revelation, and even to the Incarnatiou, as 
the necessary effects of his love to sucli 
creatures as we are in such a world as this J 

(3.) Two of the main objections to the 
central doctrine of the Christian creed, ' that 
God was in Christ, reconciling the world 
unto himself,' have now been met. Wc 
have shown, or attempted to show, that it is 
reasonable to conceive of God as including 
, in his single Being, Father, Son and Spirit ; 



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Lidactioe Theology, 



Jan. 



ali<i that it in reasonable to belierc that He 
has come down to men in order to reveal 
Himself to them. Some arguments gainst 
the fact of a miraculous and supernatural 
revelation have, indeed, still to be met ; but 
these, for the moment, we pass by, in order 
to complete our present theme, by showing 
that the revelation of God atlribiited to the 
Maa Christ Jeius, i> ia entire accord with 
that conception of God which reason frames. 
What that conception is we have seen in the 
first section of this essay. Prom the facta of 
the physical universe we have inferred that 
God is the Source of natural law, that it is 
He who, unseen, uts behind the veil' of 
physical forces, causing all things to fulfil 
the laws which He baa written on tbcir be- 
ing. From the facts of the human stoiy 
we have inferred tliat He is the Power that 
makes for righteousness throughout the 
troubled history of our race. And from 
the facts of our own psychical nature, we 
have iuferred that He ia tie Divine Original 
of ail love and goodness. These are the 
three Isoding conceptions of God which 
reason inducts from the facia it has labori- 
ously gathered together, and classified, and 
reduced to logical order. 

Are not these very conceptions brought 
home to us In the person and the wort of 
Christ Jesus our Lord ! By what is He dis- 
tiDguisbcd, to the eye of reason, above His 
fellows if not by his miracles, by his unsul- 
lied rigliteousness, and, above all, by his per- 
fect self-sacrificing love ? 

Well, it is by his miracles that He is con- 
nected witlj the physical universe ; it is by 
them that He proves himself to be the un- 
seen Force or Power which sits behind Na- 
ture, administering its laws. But here it 
will at once be objected that miracles are an 
infraction of all law. Are they I They may 
be, if we look at them by themselves. But 
admit for a moment the whole Christian by- 
pothcMs, look, not at the miracles alone, but 
also at Him who works them, and is there 
anything unreasonable in them then! If 
the invisible God, who created and niliia the 
universe, is to become visible, and to be- 
come visible for the cxpreBspurpoBe of show- 
ing men what He is, will He not, must lie 
not, show Himself to be the Lord of the uni- 
verse, by doing openly what He has hitherto 
done in secret, by visible creative acts instead 
of invisible, by making the law luminous 
and emphatic m the miracle! If Goil was 
in Christ, and in Christ that we might know 
Him as he is, then reason iUelf teaches us to 
expect creative, that is, miraculous acts from 
Him ; reason itself teaches us to expect that 
He will show Himself to be l!ie Lord of the 
universe and of its laws. In fine, if God . 



was in Christ, we should look to eee in 
Christ the very supernatural power we know 
to be in God. 

But, again, God is not only the Creator of 
the heavens and the earth ; He ia also the 
Power that makes forrighteousness through- 
out the history of man. And was not Uns 
character of divinity revealed in 'Jesus Christ, 
the Righteoutf Nothing is more certain 
than that Jesus was in very deed a man. 
It is a complete and perfect human life 
which moves before us m the gospels. IIo 
was touched by the whole round of emotions 
by which we xn moved — by sorrow and joy, 
by love and anger, hy compassion and indig- 
nation ; He was no celestial apparition 
hovering above or at)Out the earth, but a 
very man — who was pained by the miscon- 
ceptions of bis friends and by the enmity of 
his foes, a man who was strengthened and 
refreshed by the fidelity of those whom He 
loved, and as He poured out his burdened 
heart in prayer to bis Father and our Father, 
his God and our God. 

And yet, though like us in all else, He 
was without sin. Ho was the perfect ideal 
man. No shadow of selfishness ever ob- 
scured the pure. mirror of his soul. Even 
the keen eyes of Satanic malice could find 
nothing in Him. Solicited and threatened 
on all sides, his mind never for a moment 
grew incorrect to Heaven, never wavered in 
its free adoption of tlie will of God. Self- 
ishness, egotism, is the very essence of sin. 
In the last analysis sin means making the 
Eyo, the self, the centre to which all things 
are to tend, instead of God. But the Man 
Christ Jesus never thought of Himself in 
that base sense — never thought of his own 
ea.se, his own interests, his own reputation. 
Throughout He held himself at the service 
of God and man, and willingly sacrificed 
Himself that He might save the worid. 
The judge who condemned Ilim pronounced 
him faultless. The centurion who execntod 
Him confessed, 'Truly this was a righteous 
maa' We have only to look at the tender 
yet august Figure reflected in the glass of 
the Word to be sure that, once, at least, the 
world has seen that greatest of miracles, a 
man holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate 
from sinners ! For tbo Evangelists are not 
content with simply affirming his unstained 
purity. They have portrayed his life in 
every aspect and relation, down to its minu- 
test details ; and we can find in it neither 
spot nor blemish. Nay He Himself, con- 
fessedly the wisest and best of men, and 
though as men grow in wisdom they also 
grow more keenly sensible of the evil that is 
in them, never once uttered that pathetic 
confession of personal unworthiness and 



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Indttclive Theology. 



1874. 

f!:uilt which we bear from all pure lips but 
His. So far from coDfcssing, Ho defied 
bis very enemies to convict Him of a single 
sin. He taught us to pray for forgiveness, 
indeed, but he never prayed for it Himself. 
In the darkest moment, when bis unparal- 
leled sorrows pressed most heavily upon Hiiti, 
He itcver aclcnowlcdged that He bad de- 
sencd tliem. Even in the hour and artide 
of death, wIicd the most innocent and the 
most holy lift up their hands to God abd 
breathe out a prayer for pardon, He, too, 
prayed for forgiveness, but it was for his en- 
emies, not for Himself. Righteous Himself, 
He was ever on the side of righteousness. 
None was so quick as He to discover the 
faintest germ of good in the ' sinners ' who 
came to Him confessing their sios, none so 
severe as He in rebuking those who ' trusted 
in themselves that they were righteous and 
despised others.' While Jle dwelt aqiong 
us, did not his influence make for righteous- 
ness and against iniquity? And sinee lie 
has gone up on high, what ia the Power 
that, beyond all others, has told for right- 
eousness throughout the world? Is it not 
the ' grace of Jesus Christ our Lord ' ! 

Once more, God is, as we have also seen, 
the Fountain of all love and goodness. And 
this love, this God of love, was not Ht re- 
vealed in Christ f T lie Cross of Christ ia 
the aymbol of a love stronger than death, a 
love that knew no bounds, even for the evil 
and the uothankful. Those who conceive 
of God as riacting instead of making an 
atonement for the sins of the world, those 
who conceive of the New Testament as re- 
veaUng a God who was not in Christ, recon- 
ciling the world unto Himself, hut as capable 
of the double injustice of condemning an 
innocent man in order to acquit the guilty, 
instead of giving Himself as the sacrifice, 
may well shrink from tlie God and the Atone- 
ment they suppose it to reveal They 
may well tear to bring their theology to 
the bar of reason. But what have ire to 
fear, we who believe that God, God Him- 
self, no one less than God, was in Cbriat ; 
that, in Him, God revealed once for all, in 
one crowning and supreme act, bis eternal 
and unchangeable love for the sons of men ? 
Is that unreasonable 1 Can any man who 
has teamed from ailment and induction 
that the Creator roust be infinitely better 
than his creatures, thai He is the divine 
fountain from which all the love and self- 
sacrifice which are the glory of manhood 
flows : can any such believer in God shrink 
from the thought as irrational that in Christ 
God showed a love which transcends all the 
force and tenderness of human love I We, 
at least, do not see bow bo can. And, 



87 



therefore, wo call on as many as can say, ' I 
believe in God, the Father Almiglity, maker 
of heaven and earth,' to add, ' and in Jesus 
Christ, his bnly Son our Lord.' We confi. 
dently affirm that, inasmuch as we find in 
Christ whatever reason teaches us there must ' 
be in God ; inasmuch as Christ showed Him- 
self to be the Lord of the universe, the 
Power that makes for righteonsness, and the 
Love that is boundless and divine, reason it- 
self bids ua conclude that God was in Christ ; 
in Hira, to reveal Himself to men, that He 
might aatiafy the profound and incessant 
craving of their heart for Him. 

HI. But, reasonable as this conclusion 
seems to us, the fact of a miraculous and 
supernatural revelation, such a revelation as 
the Bible contains, is utterly incredible to 
many thoughtful men, and that on various 
grounds. 

{!.) They allege, for instance, that in his 
wisdom God has ordained for Himself cer- 
tain laws, or invariable methods of action, 
which, though at times they bear hardly on 
this man or that, on this race or that, obvi- 
ously subserve the welfare of the world 
at large, and that it is therefore unrea- 
sonable to suppose that Ue will interrupt 
or deviate from those laws. He reveals 
Himself, they say, and his eternal goodwill 
to men iy those laws, and He cannot, or will 
not, break through them, however much we 
may need or desire to hear Him speaking 
mor^ immediately to us. 

To this objection we reply, that those who 
urge it surely assume a breadth and certain- 
ty of knowledge denied to ' mortal man be- 
neath the sky.' For the question really in 
debate is — Un what laws or principles docs 
God conduct the moral government of tlio 
worlds He has made ! But with how many 
of these worlds is even the wisest of men 
acquainted ? Clearly he knows nothing of 
the moral government of any world bat one, 
and that the worid in which he lives. And 
of the moral government of thi» world he 
knows little except what he learns from the 
history of past ages. The ground covered 
by any man's personal experience is so small 
that he would prove himself an idiot rather 
than a aage, were be to base universal con- 
clusiona upon it. If he would draw ao much 
as a probable inference as to the laws by 
which even this world is governed, he niust 
found it on the history, and on the whole 
history, of the world, so far as it has been 
preserved. But among the histories of the 
past there is one, and that the very one which 
confessedly baodles all religious questions 
with an unrivalled force and nobility — a his- 
tory extending over forty centuries, which 
persistently affirms Revelation to be a fact. 



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Induct life Hieology. 



Jan. 



No history lias been eo severely tested as 
this. None has so triumphantly borne every 
t«8t to which it has been exposed. At 
this very moment the languar^ of ancient 
E^ypt, Assyria, Phtenicia, and Moab are be- 
ing recovered from the monuments that 
even Time, which devours all things, has 
failed to destroy ; and as fast as the inscrip- 
tions with which they are crowded are deci- 
phered they yield the most striking confir- 
mation of the" facts recorded in tbe Hebrew 
Sciipturcs. 

These acriptiirc!", moreover, not only 
afiinn the fact of Revelation, they also record 
the revelations which they aflinn that God, at 
Buudry times snd in divers manners, vouch- 
gafed to men. And these revelations, so far 
as we are competent to assay and judge them, 
present every mark of a divine origin, and 
commend themselves to the conscience of 
men as the authentic words of God by the 
nnparallcled nobility and purity of the truths 
they nnfold, 

Mark, then, how far our argument has 
led us. We had to detenninc in general on 
what laws or principles God conducte the 
moral E;ovemment of worlds, and more espe- 
cially whether or not revelation, or direct 
disclosure of Himself, be one of those princi- 
ples. Wo know nothing of the moral gov. 
ernmcnt of any world but our own, and of 
this we know only what we can learn from 
its recorded history. In the historical litera- 
tore of the world one history confessedly 
rtands pre-eminent for its power and beauty. 
This history afhmia revelation to be a princi- 
ple or habit of God ; and, in the truths it 
professes to reveal, we possess, as all men 
acknowledge, the very noblest and highest 
religious conceptions which have found a 
home in the heart of man. So that when we 
bring the question to the scientific test of 
experience and observation, we have at the 
lowest a grave presumption in favour of the 
conclusion that the revelation of Himself to 
his intelligent creatures is one of the kws 
or principles ou which God conducts the 
moral government of the worlds He has 
mode. 

Is it reasonable, then, is it scientific, to re- 
ject this conclusion, the conclusion, be it re- 
membered, of observation and experience, on 
the high (ipriori ground that as God governs 
bj fixed laws, it is impossible that He should 
come forth from his place to instruct his 
creatures in the counsels of his will f Men 
of B( i ince, not without cause, profoundly dia- 
tmst d priori arguments. They constantly 
appeal from them to facts, and insist that 
the facts shall be left to tell their own taic, 
and not be forced to support a foregone con- 
clusion They appeal to facts: to facta. 



then, let them go. The facts say that for at 
least forty ont of the sixty historic centu- 
ries God did reveal Himself to men ; they 
affirm that to secure the spiritual welfare of 
man He has shone through the veil of inter- 
mediate causes and efiect«, in order that in 
his liglit we might see light. 

The reasonableness of this conclusion is ad- 
mitted by the h'ghest scientific authority, that 
of Profciisor Tyndali himself, who acknowl- 
edges that ' ]'( i* no depor lure from scitntijir 
method to pluce behind natural phenomena a 
universal Father who, in answer to the pray- 
ers of his children, alters tbe currents of these 
phenomena.' True, the learned Professor 
adds that this theory is only a theory till it 
be tested and verified in the region of sen- 
sible observation and experience ; but he 
admits that the conception is in entire har- 
mony with the scientific method of thought : 
and,as we have shown, the conception has 
been tested and verified, unless, indeed, we 
are to reject as a fable, not only the spiritual 
experience of the whole Christian Church, 
but also the one literature which has been 
exposed to tbe hottest fire of the critical or- 
deal, and has como forth from it suhstanlially 
uninjured, although the smell of the fire may 
yet hngcr on some of its gannenta. 

(2.) But if Revelation be a scientific in- 
ference from history, and an easy deduction 
from the goodness of God and the need of 
man, it may be asked ' Wby, then, does not 
God reveal Himself to every man that com- 
cth into the world f Why is Revelation 
limited to sundry times, all of which are past, 
and to a single race, which race, moreover, 
no longer hears a voice we cannot hear, nor 
sees visions that we cannot sec ! It surely 
is but reasonable to expect that, if God 
should speak to men, and speak to them on 
themes in which their highest welfare is in- 
volved, the revelation will be universal and 
constant, that it will not be withheld from 
any one of us,* 

In meeting this objcclion it would not be 
fair to ui^ that, in some sense, God does re- 
veal Himself to every man that cometh into 
the world, that He is not far from any one of 
us; nor to Insist on the indwelling of the Holy 
Ghost, promised and vouchsafed to as many 
as believe : for these inward and spiritual re- 
velations differ widely from the revelation 
sent by the prophets^and apostles, who spoke 
as they were moved by the Spirit of God. 
We meet it rather with the simple answer that 
it is utterly and demonstrably unscientific 
What text is there on which men of science 
love more to dwell, or on which they grow 
more eloquent, than on the admirable blend- 
ing of economy with bounty which they eve- 
rywhere discovcrin tbe natural world ; the pa- 



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Inductive Theology. 



30 



tience, andlong patience, with which the Ma- 
ker of all- works out liis beneficent designs! 
A Goil never hasting andnever resting, suffer- 
ing no lack yet permitting no waste, this is 
the God in whom, if they believe in God at 
all, they delight themselves. If, then, in I ' 
work of revealing Himself to men, God 
to display the economy and patience which 
characterize all the other operations of his 
hand», we should not expect that He would 
be for ever breaking tl)rough the veil of 
cause and effect, which commonly at once 
hides Him from and receals Ilim to men, as 
though lie were impatient to shine forth in 
his full glory, and to compel the admiration 
oE his creatures. We sliould rather expect 
that lie would select one man, and then one 
race, to he the recipients and exponents of 
tlie truth ; that He would wait patiently 
while the one man grew and multiplied into 
a race, all more or less leavened with the 
truth He liad revealed, and again wait pa- 
tiently till by gradual and advancing disclo- 
sures of his will He had prepared the select 
race to receive the truth in its fulness, and 
to become his ambassadors to the oiber 
races of the world. The law of economy, 
which rules in all his other works, prescrib- 
ed this thrift and patience in the work of 
Revelation. While, on the other hand, the 
limitations of the human intellect, man's 
tJowness of heart to believe and to rise into 
higher beliefs, necessitated it. 

(3.). But here we may be met by an ob- 
jection of n different kind. Granting, it 
may be said, that reason would teach us to 
look for the election of one race to the post 
and function of religious teacher to the world, 
is there any need 'to assume a divine revela- 
tion, an immediate and supernatural dis- 
closure of Himself by God, to this elect peo- 
ple! May not a race have been created 
wilh, or trained into, a special aptitude for 
the discovery and promulgation of religious 
tnith ! May not the Hebrew Scriptures be 
the natural and unaided product of the Semi- 
tic mind ! We know that the superior races 
of the Oriental world are characterized by 
a singular religious susceptibility and power, 
and that the great religious books of the 
world have been written by them. Why, 
then, should we not accept the Hebrew Scrip- 
tures as the natural production of this strange 
religious susceptibility and power, and as 
none the less the gift of God because they 
are the work of man ! 

In certain quarters this argument of the 
Oriental, and more particularly of the Semi- 
lie mhui, finds great favour, and is constantly 
urged in a tone of conviction, if not triumph. 
Nevertheless, if, still pursuing the scientific 
method, we appeal to facts, the facts treat 



this argument very much as Aaron's rod-ser- 
nent treated the rods of the magicians of 
Egypt. It is very true that, on the great 
mountains and plains and deserts of the 
East, where the forces of nature display 
themselves with a terrible sublimity which 
compels men to take refuge in God, 
there grew up a race of men peculiarly open 
to religious impressions, and with n strange 
capacity both for utteriogtruth in noble and 
simple forms, and for passionately devoting 
themselves to the service and propagation of 
religion ; and, as the Buler aud Teacher of 
men ever adapts his means to his end, we 
might reasonably assume that He would se- 
lect the narion by which He intended to 
give his truth to the world from this specially 
gifted race, choosing minds naturally reli- 
gious to he the ambassadors and champions 
of religious truth. 

So far, therefore, we can cheerfully adopt 
the argument of the Semitic mind. But 
when it is pushed beyond this point, when we 
are asked to see in the Hebrew mind, not 
only the organ, but tlie origin, of religions 
truth, not only the channel through which it 
flowed, and which gave it form and colour, 
but also the spring from which it rose, we 
take leave to demur, at least till we have con- 
sulted the facts. There are other products 
of the Semitic mind with which, before we 
arrive at our conclusion, it is but reasonable 
that we should compare the Hebrew scrip- 
tures; the book of Tobit, for example, the 
history of Susanna and the Elders, Bel and 
the Dragon, the Talmud, and the Koran. 
Nay, there are still other products of the Ori- 
ental mind in general, at which we shall do 
well to glance ; as, for instance, the Hindu 
Vedas, and the I'ersian Zendavesto. Now 
any man acquainted, however slightly, with 
the more ancient songs of the Vedas, or 
with the G^th&s of the Zeudavesta, or with 
many of the sentences and parables of the 
Talmud, with the finer suran of the Koran, 
who should deny that they are characterised 
by an am a^ug beauty aud religious elevation 
of tone, won Id simply puthiniself out of court 
as an utterly incompetent critic and judge. 
We are very far from denying, we are glad 
to believe that they all contain 'broken rays* 
from the Light that lightetb every man. 
But, on the other hand, any man who can 
compare the Vedas, or the Zeodavesta, or 
the Talmud, or the Koran, cr even the He- 
brew apocryphal literature, as a whole, with 
the canonical Scriptures as a whole, and not 
feel that the Scriptures are a whole heaven 
above the other religions products of the 
Semitic or the Oriental mind, must be a man 
so insensible to the power of truth and to the 
most obvious distinctions of literary form 



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iTiduetive TAeohgy, 



Jan. 



and valne, as to reader hie verdicts wholly 
worthless. The more we etady the other 
great religiaos books of the world, however 
much we find in them to admire, the more 
firmly we shall be [lersDaded that oothing 
short of the inspiration of God can account 
for the anapproachable sublimity and power 
of those Scriptures in which we think and 
know that we have eternal life. 

(4.) But again, if a revelation be granted, 
it may still be urged : ' Surely the perfect 
God would only Tcveal Himself in perfect 
forms. Do you claim perfection for the 
Scriptures, theu, and for all of them ! Do 
you assert that there are uo defects in them, 
whether in form or substance ! — that from 
the earliest to the latest they present religious 
troth in its absolute forms i 

We assert nothing of the kind. We ad- 
mit, with St. Paul, that we have the heavenly 
treasure in eartlien vessels. We confess, 
with Christ, that in the eariier Scriptures 
there are concessions to human weakness, 
laws given ' for the hardness of their hearts,' 
who received them, because they were the 
best practicable, not because they were the ab- 
solute best. We acknowledge the more excel- 
lent glory of the truth aud grace which came 
by Jesus Christ. And wc contend that this 
gradual and progressive method of revelatjon, 
this advance from less U> more, is precisely 
the method which commends itself to reason 
as appropriate aod divine. Does not science 
discover this law of development iti all the 
works of God, in the creation and history of 
the earth itself, in ita_^ora and fattna, in the 
history of separate races of men, and in that 
of the collective race ! Does not science, in 
these later days, tend irresistibly to the 
theory of evolution or development as the 
sole Key to all the changes through which 
the world has passed, and all that it contains, 
even to man himself, reducing all vital forces, 
whether of plant or animal, to a common 
primary tissue variously organized, and re- 
solving even this organic tissue into the 
acids, phosphates, and ealta of the inorganic 
world? 

Well, we claim this law of development 
for the revelation which God lias made to 
men. We say it was to be expected, it ac- 
cords with reason, that God should give his 
truth to men as they were able to receive it; 
that He should advance from the rudimen- 
tary to the more advanced stages, from the 
first elements to the last perfect disclosure of 
his will. And, as in the earlier st^cs of de- 
velopment all things are comparatively im- 
perfect, though at the same time they may 
be exquisitely adapted to the elements and 
conditions in which they move, we must not 
look for perfect history in the unhistoric 



ages of the worid, nor for a perfect morality 
in the unmoral or the immoral agei We 
can and do clum for the early liistories of 
the Bible a clearness and an accuracy which 
far traoscend those of any contemporary 
race, — a claim which will not be questioned 
by the scholars who are familiar with the 
ancient theories of the genesis of the earth 
and of man, or who are even now painfully 
deciphering and patching together the in- 
scriptions graven on the monuments of As- 
syria and the papyri of Egypt. We can aud 
do claim for the legislation of Moses a mora- 
lity far in advance of the other codes of the 
antique world, and exquisitely adapted to 
the mora] condition and needs of those to 
whom it was sent. But we do not affirm the 
literal accuracy of every ' book,' or gene- 
alogical table, contained in the Pentateuch ; 
nor do we assert that the morality of Moses 
was as high and broad and pure as that of 
Christ; we neither recommend any modem 
historian to quote his authorities as the Old 
Testament is quoted in the New, nor advise 
that the imprecations of some of the He- 
brew psalmists should be taken on Christian 
lips. In short, we admit the moral and his- 
torical imperfections of the ancient Scrip- 
tures, in so far as they are or may be 
proved ; and wc attribute them to that 
method of development which rcasoD con- 
fesses to be characteristic of all Divine pro- 
cesses. If the revelation of God had not 
been progressive, when should we have heard 
the lust of it ! If it had not adVauced 
through lower to higher stages, men of 
science would have been the first to mark 
this deviation from the ways of God, and 
would have found, in its instant and unac- 
countable perfection, a still more cogent rea- 
son for rejecting it than they now find in its 
imperfections, confessed or alleged. 

(5.) But even when Revelation has been 
granted as reasonable, it may still further be 
objected ; — 

Surely, when God speaks to men, lie will 
so speak as that they may understand. Tlie 
revelation may bo progressive, it may be 
given only at sundry tjmes, and uol to divers 
peoples ; but, so far as it goes, it will at least 
be clear, level to the understanding of those 
to whom it is vouchsafed. There will bo no 
mystofy about it, no esoteric or hidden 
truths. And yet, how much is there in the 
Old TcsUment of which the Jews did not 
lay hold, and of which tt was not to bo ex- 
pected that they should lay hold ; and how 
much is there in the New Testament which 
the primitive disciples did not comprehend, 
and of which the most difierent views are 
held even to the present day. We indeed 
can fiud the doctnnc of a suffering Messiah 



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Inductive T/ieologt/. 



in the Old Testament Scriptnrea ; but how 
should tlie Jews have found it whea He was 
coiiBtHDtly held up before them with a crown 
of victory on his head ? We can see that 
the prophets and psalmist emphatically af- 
firmed ohedicnce to be better than sacrifice ; 
but how should the Jews have seen it, when 
so ranch and constant stress was laid on the 
duty of sacrifice ! We can see that the pri- 
mitive disciples were mistaken, in hopinji to 
behold a second advent of the Lord before 
they saw death ; but who that marks how 
Christ and his apostles spake of that advent, 
can wonder that they foil into the mistake ! 
We can see that the elect race was elected, 
not for its own sake, but for tlin benefit of 
the world ; but can we marvel that the Jews 
held themselves to he the favourites of 
Heaven ! And that doctrine of future re- 
tribution, taught in botli Testaments — who 
even yet can say, exactly and authoritatively, 
what it means t Many still adhere to the 
conception of an everlasting torture as the 
due reward of sins committed in the fleeting 
moments of time, which, on the mere face of 
it, at least seems a monstrous injustice ; 
while others stoutly maintain that no such 
dogma is taught in the Scriptures, whether 
of the Old Testament or the New. If, then, 
the Bible be, or contain, the Word of God, 
how coipcs it to pass that its apparent 
meaning is not always its tnie meaniug ; 
that on questions so momentous as these, it 
utters so uncertain a sound ) 

Our reply to this objection, which has, it 
must be confessed, a somewhat formidable 
face, is simply another appeal to the facta 
and teachings of science. Do Ike jihenome- 
no of Ike natural world always carry their 
true meaning on their very front i Are they 
all perfectly simple, and capable of an instant 
and accurate interpretation ) Docs not the 
immense value of a scientific training consist 
in this, — that it teaches us to distinguish 
between tlie things which are, and the things 
which do appear ? that it compels us to ask, 
again and again, what, and what manner of 
thing the phenomena around us do signify? 
The sun eeemt to travel round the earth ; 
but doe» it ) The stars seem minute specks 
of light ; but are they ? The cowries found 
on the suniniit of the Alps seem to have been 
created there, or, as the Crusaders thought, 
to have been deposited there by the Delu^ ; 
but mere they » The simple fact Ls that the 
first and obvious interpretations of men of 
science have hardly ever been anvwhere near 
the mark. The first astronomical readings 
of the heavens, and the first geological read- 
ings of the earth, long since corrected by 
fuller knowledge, are but familiar instances 
of the way in which seienco has advanced 



41 



through erroneous to more accurate concep- 
tions of the works of God. Nowhere is 
the absolute truth found on the surface. 
Nothing ia what it seems, — not even light, 
or heat, or motion, or sound. 

If, then, in all the works of God we find 
an inviting mystery which beckons us on to 
an ever deeper research, and which rewards 
our research with knowledge ever more accu- 
rate and complete, should we not eitpect to 
find a similar mystery in the words through 
which God reveals Himself to men ) Is it 
not most reasonable that here too wc should 
meet with phenomena which may mislead 
us if we hastily theorize upon thein, aud 
which will yield their secret only to humble, 
patient, and wise inquiry ? It surely is 
reasonable, most reasonable. The very mys- 
teries of the Divine Word are but another 
proof that the Word is from Him who made 
and rules the universe. That the Jews 
should have found their conceplian of a 
victorious Messiah in the very Scriptures 
from which we derive our conception of a 
sutfering Messiah is no whit more strange 
than that the Ptolemaic and Copemican 
systems should have been inferred from the 
same astronomical facta, That there should 
be in the Bible mysteries which are various- 
ly interpreted, and problems which we can- 
not even yet conclusively solve, is no more a 
proof that the Bible did not eorae from God 
than the mysteries and unsolved problems of 
Nature are a proof that the worlds were not 
made by God. Rather, the exbtonce of 
similar mysteries and ansolved, if not insolu- 
ble, problems in both affords a strong pre- 
sumption that both are the work of one and 
the self-same Hand. 

Thus, though far too hastily and imper- 
fectly, we have endeavoured to show how 
the very central and fundamental truths of 
the Christian Creed may be so presented as 
to commend themselves even to the inquisi- 
tive and sceptical faculty of reason. And, 
in prosecuting this endeavour, we trust we 
have made it plain that we neither relinquish 
for ourselves, nor desire others to relinquish, 
any particle of ' the faith once delivered to 
the saints.' All our fathers regarded the 
circle of Christian doctrine from the point of 
view at which their several ages stood ; and 
we shall but follow their example if, while 
looking steadfastly at the same sacred circle 
of doctrine, we shift our point of view with 
the shifting time, and adopt the method of 
thought in vogue with the men of our day 
and generation. Indeed, it is only by these 
changes of method and points of view that 
the Church enlarges her conceptions of the 
truths common to all ages, and makes them 
at once more accurate and more complete. 



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Mas»on'i Milton and his Times. 



Jan. 



And nhat do, what can we lone by pre- 
senting ' the truth as it is in Jesun,' to « 
reasoninrr and sceptical age, in its more 
reasonable and convincing aspects ! The 
tnitli remiiins the same, whatever our point 
of view and however our theolopcal formu- 
Ias may change ; just as the astronomical 
facts remain the same, and men may rejoice 
in the light and heat of the sun, whatever 
their theories of the solar system, "We still 
have a God of righteousness and love as the 
Maker of heaven and earth, and as the 
gracious Ruler of men ; a God who, in bis 
single Being, includes Father, Son and Holy 
Ghost ; a God who, that He might reveal 
Himself to men, inspired the holy prophets 
to declare his will, and, in the person of bis 
Son, came down and dwelt among us ; a 
God who, in the eiceeding greatness of his 
love to usward, has Himself made a sacrifice 
for the sin of the world, that He might 
reconcile the world unto Himself. We lose 
no jot or tittle pf these trnths by speaking 
of them in a reasonable way and in accor- 
dance with the scientific method of thought 
And if we lose nothing, how muck may we 
gain by so speaking of them as to show that 
they accord with reason, though they also 
transcend itl With what added power do 
we appeal to men when we have firat con- 
vinced ourselves and them of the utter 
reasonableness of that of which we speak and 
whereof we affirm, when we are fully per- 
suaded that in beseeching them, as they be- 
lieve in God, to believe also in Christ, licason 
combines with Religion to enforce our 
prayer ? 



Art. IV. — Masson't M'dton and hit Times. 

The Life of John Milton ; Narrated in con- 
nection with the Political, Ecclesiastical, 
and Literary Hittorij of his Tim*. 
By ]>Avm Masbon, M.A., LL.D. Vols. 
I. H. and HI. Macmillan and Go. 

NoTwrrnsTANDiKO all that has been written 
on tlie subject to which Mr. Masson has 
devoted his matured experience and powers, 
the theme is one which cannot be exhausted ; 
nor does it diminish in interest with the 
lapse of generations. It is invested with an 
eternal freshness. The grand central fignre 
lends lustre to the ^e of which it was one 
of the brightest ornaments, whilst the f^^e 
Hself must ever remain one of the most pow- 
erfully attractive in English history. Of 
Mi'ton Macaulayhas well said that be does 
' not envy the man who can study either 
the life or the writings of the great poet and 



patriot, without aspiring to emulate, not 
indeed the sublime works with which his 
genius has enriched our literature, but the 
zeal with which he laboured for the public 
good, the fortitude with which he endured 
every private calamity, the lofty disdain with 
which he looked down on temptations and 
dangers, the deadly hate which he bore to 
bigots and tyrants, and the faith which be 
so sternly kept with his country and bis 
fame.' Noble as are these words, we have 
pride in feeling that to the uttermost the 
warm and generous tribute is deserved. 
And if BO much can be said of the individu- 
al, what may not be said of the age of which 
he was so conspicuous a constituent ! Of 
all the periods in our national existence 
there is not one which eshibits such stern 
rectitude and such massive virtues. Dispos- 
sessed of that bias which so often warps the 
judgment when dealing with men who 
have been compelled into some amount of 
political prominence, surely there is no one 
who would not admit that, after making al- 
lowance for religious and personal angulari- 
ties, the heroes of the Commonwealth were 
men of a full and dignified stature — men, 
perhaps, more worthy of their age than 
we of the nineteenth century are of ours. 
Hampden, Pym, Cromwell, Milton, and 
others of their contemporaries form an illus- 
trious galaxy almost unparalleled for intel- 
lect and integrity; and the historv which 
deals with the stnigglcs in which t!iey took 
part cannot fail to have an imperishable 
importance. The foundations of those lib- 
erties which we now enjoy were laid by 
them ; they were the men who first dared 
to assert the inviolability of the human con- 
science, and the rights of the individual as 
against his tyrant. To appreciate the full 
value of the work which they successfully 
accomplished we must take into considera- 
tion the strength of the powers which were 
arrayed against them, powers which might 
have been described aa wcU-nigb impregna- 
ble, but which succumbed to the superior 
majesty of right, whose triumph, though 
occasionally sometimes delayed, is finally 
inevitable. 

Feeling that so many great and vital ijues- 
tions were bound up, as it were, with Mil- 
ton's life, Mr. Masson resolved, at the out- 
set of his work, to give to it the widest 
scope, as a history. Accordingly, while his 
chief object has been to present to the world 
the fullest account of Milton himself which 
it has yet received, and one of conside- 
rably enhanced value on account of ad- 
ditional and minute research, he has wisely 
decided to let the stoiy partake of the cha- 
racter of history as well as of biography. In 



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Jan. 



Masaon's Mfiton and hit Times. 



43 



fact, on this head lie remarks, ' it is intended 
to exhibit Milton's life in its connections with 
all the more notable phenomena of the period 
of British liistoiy in which it was cast — its 
State politics, its ecclesiastical variations, 
its literature, and speculatice thoujrbt.' Th- 
labour already expended upon the task, a 
manifested in the three volumes before 
us, is prodigioas, and quite enough to havi 
deterred any writer who was not imbued 
with an enthusiasm for his subject which 
amount of difiiculties to be encountered 
coald possibly entinguish. We have 
innumerable lives of Milton — some of them 
embittered by personal hostility— from that 
of Dr. Johnson downwards to those of James 
Montgomery and others ; but of lives from 
the point of view taken by Mr. Masson, n 
Also of histories of the period stretching 
from 1608 to the death of Charles II. we 
have no lack ; but of history obtained 
thi-ouftli the medium of side lights such as 
we get here, and which is frequently a most 
valuable means of acquiring accurate know- 
ledge, we have had little. We cannot agree 
with those who find fault with Mr. Masson'a 
method, and blame him for his minuli<B ; he 
is but following out his ori^nal plan of 
treating his snlijeot as exhaustively as possi- 
ble, in which be considers himself justified 
by the value and richness of his material. 
Tiie task is one worthy of being done well, 
if at all ; we hope — and the hope is one 
which there is every prospect will bo ful- 
filled — that he will successfully complete bis 
purpose. If there is a figure in English his- 
tory worthy of being set in the fullest and 
clearest light it is that of Millon. Besides 
his pre-eniinenoe as the greatest religious 
poet of the world there is much of what is 
fiublimcst in human nature attaching to bis 
character. Cast into the seething sea of 
politics and controversy he yet attained that 
grandeur of repose which is the mark of the 
loftiest and noblest spirits. The portion of 
the biography dealt with in the first volume 
occupies thirty years of tlie poet's life. Be- 
ginning with his ancestry and Icindred we have 
the most painstaking and conscientious record 
of all facts which are in any way germane to 
the subject, and one is struck with the care 
taken, and the labour which must have been 
expended, in getting into order this minute 
personal record. Most readers, we presume, 
are acquainted with some salient points in 
connection with Milton's career, but in going 
through this extended account they will be 
amply repaid for all their tronble. Occn- 
sioTially Sir. Masson sliatteis some of our old 
beliefs and stories, and one cniel example of 
this is found early in the volume, when we 
come upon this passngc : — 



'Every one has heard or read the romsntic 
story of the young foreign Indy, who, pas-^ing 
in a carriage, with her elder companion, the 
spot near Cambridge where Milton lay asleep 
under n tree, was bo struck with his beautj', 
that, after nlighling to look at liim. bho wrote 
in pencil some Italian lines, and placed thcni, 
unperceived ns she thonglit (but there were 
laughing students near), in (he sleeper's hnnd ; 
and how Milton, when he awoke, read thclines, 
and being told how they came there conceived 
such a passion for the fair unknown (hat he 
went afterwards to Italy in quest of her, and 
thought of her to the end of his days as his 
Lost Paradise. The story is a myth, belonging 
to the lives of other poets beside.'' Milton. But, 
in compensation for the loss of it, the reader 
may have, on Milton's own testimony in the 
above-men tiuncil Elegy,* an incident not dissi- 
milar, and, if less romantic, at least authentic 
as to place and date.' 

The real incident appears to have lieen 
that in hia twentieth year Milton first fell in 
love, and with some beauty whom he saw in 
public in London. With regard to the 
false story, it is not a little singubir that the 
same myth i&prevalent about Milton at Uoinc, 
the adventure being reported to have oc- 
curred in the suburbs of that city. The Eng- . 
lisb version probably received adilitiotial 
credence from the fact that Milton after- 
wards paid a visit to Italy. The poet's 
genealogy appears to be doubtful, and, in 
spite of the assiduous endeavours of the 
biographer, little information of an authen- 
tic character has been obtained beyond the 
fact that the Miltons were an Oxfordshire 
family. One account states that Milton's 
grandfather was a Roman Catholic, who 
brought up his son (Milton's father) at 
Christ Clmreh, Oxford, and afterwards dis- 
inherited him because lie forsook the Catho- 
lic religion. But ancestrj- matters little, as 
we gradtially approach that period when a 
man's best claims upon men are his noble 
deeds. What is clearly ascertained is that 
Milton's father was a ' scrivener," of Bread- 
street, London, and that the poet was bom 
there on the 9th of December, 1608, thus 
being a Cockney of the Cockneys. The 
father is described as 'an ingenioae man,' 
and a man of some repute ua a writer of 
music. It is also interesting to note that he 
was a man of liberal mind, for Milton, 
speaking of bis own early education, says, 
' I had, from my first years, by the ceaseless 
diligence and care of iny father {whom God 
recompense) been exereised to the tongues 
and some sciences, as my age would suffer, 
by sundry masters and teachers, both at 
home and at the schools.' From the age of 
twelve to sixteen Milton wa* at St. Paul's 



• Milton's ' Seventh l«tln Elegy." 



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MaasorCs Milton and /tit Timet. 



School, and at the ]att«r i^ lie had suc- 
ceeded in acqniring a considerable know-. 
lodge of the course of Euglish literature. It 
is worthy of note that when fifteen years old 
lie produced the well-known metrical version 
of the 136lh Faalm, beginmni; 'Let us 
with a gladsome tnind.' A whole chapter — 
and we are bound to admit it is not too 
much — is given to Milton's stay at Cara- 
bridt^e, where he was admitted a pensioner 
of Christ's College on the 12th of Febrnary, 
1625, Ilere after three years he took his 
B.A. degree, at the same time that the cele- 
brated Kubeos wan admitted to the M.A. 
At the age of twenty-one. and while at Col- 
lege, Milton wrote the splendid ' Ode on the 
Morning of Christ's Nativity,' respecting 
which Hallam is so enthusiastic, and which 
in truth is at that age a wonderful piece of 
work for finish. The noble lines are too 
widely familiar to most readers of Milton to 
need quotation here. The 'Sonnet on Shak- 
speare ' followed in the next year. Return- 
ing to the University in 1631, after the 
tlague which visited Cambridge, Milton took 
is M. A. degree, and in doing so had to sub- 
scribe Xa the articles, which involved an ac- 
knowledgment of the royal supremacy, the 
Church Litui^y, and the authorized doctrines 
of the Church of England — a clear proof 
that at the ^e of twenty-three he had not 
yet broken away from bis allegiance to the 
Church. By !i!l accounts his reputation for 
study and ability while at college was of the 
liijrhest, and a flat contradiction is given to 
Johnson's statement that ' there is reason to 
believe that he was regarded in his college 
with no great fondness.' As the biographer 
points out, it is not at all unlikely that the 
report that he had parted on bad temis with 
his University was started because he after- 
wards found it necessary to utter things 
which vexed the soul of his Alma Mater. 
The calumny began when Milton himself 
commenced to attack the institution of 
Church and State, a very suspicious circum- 
stance. Tl)e poet probably helped to per- 
petnate the report by remarking that, 
though he was in harmony with the best 
men of the University, it by no means fol- 
lowed that he supported the system pursued 
there. Passages are culled from his compo- 
sitions during his academical career to show 
that he was very unfavourable, to say the 
least, to the methods of the place. A very 
admirable sketch is f^ven of Milton's habi* 
tudes of thought and disposition at the time 
he left college. Mr. Masson shows in what 
respects as a poet and man he differed from 
Shakspearc, and hits off happily, we imagine, 
their idiosyncrasies. He refers to Milton's 
noble egotism, and thus closes his remarks 



on this head 
before God 
which he knew full well 



Christian, humiliation 
duty the meaning of 



but, i 



, he I 






and stoic s 
temptation which characterized him, a spring 
of ever-preseut pride, dignifying his whole 
bearing among his fellows, and at times 
arousing hin) to a kingly intolerance. In 
short, instead of that dissatisfaction with 
self which we trace as a not unfrequcnt feel- 
ing with Shakspeare, we find in Milton, even 
in early youth, a recollection, firm and habi- 
tual, that be was one of those servants to 
whom God had intrusted the stewardship of 
ten talents.' We tliink that the whole pas- 
sage of which this forms a part exhibits 
keen insight in the treatment of Alilton's 
character; and, viewing them in the light 
given to us by Mr. Masson, we understand 
with ease many things touching the poet 
which would otherwise prove matters of 
difiiculty and stumbling. In the formation 
and development \ of his character a lofty 
ideality must have held a conspicuous part, 
which, while it lifted the poet himself above 
the rest of the world into a sublime self-con- 
sciousness, rendered him impatient of those 
io whom such a high demeanour was not 
natural. 

The rest of the personal portion of this 
volume is occupied partly with Milton's stay 
of five years at his father's conntry residence 
at Ilorton, in Buckinghamshire, and partly 
with the record of his Continental travel. 
He left England just at the time when the 
Scotch Covenantors began to be talked about 
in London, and when the decision had been 
given against Hampden in his famous ship- 
money case. From Paris, where he was in- 
troduced to Hugo Grotius, and where his 
stay was hut short, the poet went on to 
Italy, and was gratified at length in his long 
cherished desire to stand on the shores of 
the Mediterranean. Following Milton's foot- 
steps with the most elaborate care and dili- 
gence, Mr. Masson entertains us with short 
sketches ' of all those things in which the 
former doubtless took a profound interest, 
and also presents us with an epitome of the 
condition of the Continental empires at the 
period. Amongst other things it is pointed 
out that pi'ecisely at the time. of Milton's 
arrival in Italy, the blindness of the illus- 
trious Galileo had become total. Strant^e 
that history was to repeat itself once more in 
the calamity which afterwards befell our own 
beloved countryman. The English poet visit- 
ed Galileo, whom, he says, ' I found grown 
old, a prisoner to the Inquisition, for thinking 
in astronomy otherwise than the Franciscan 
and Dominican licensers thought,' Much 



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MasaoT^a MUtwi and his Times. 



45 



there was in common between these intellec- 
tual ^ants. 

But we cannot linger over this story of 
travel, nor, indeed, over the historical por- 
tion of the volamc. There is, however, Ut- 
ile necessity to do the latter, inasmuch as the 
period was as yet not rife in stirring events, 
thongh it was rapidly preparing for them. 
We must nevertheless note that in conse- 
quence of what he saw going on in the 
' Ohnrch, Milton, mnch to the disappointment 
of his father, resolved to enter upon a lite- 
rary career. The ascendency of Papistical 
notions is traced in this diviuon, and a re- 
markably able sketch — in which we can 
Eerceive no tinge of bitterness — is given of 
aud, who was afterwards to play so con- 
spicuous a part in the history of his country, 
Mr. MassoR follows the intricate action of 
this really able man with great fidelity, and 
shows how those strifes arose which after- 
wards burst with terrible fury over the land. 
He likewise follows the course of the religi- 
ons persecutions from their first inception to 
the time when they had become absolutely 
unbearable ; and in doing this, of course, it 
is partly with a view of showing the opera- 
tion public events mast have had upon such 
a nature as Milton's. 

~ Notice should not be omitted, with regard 
to this first volume, of the admirable chapi- 
ter which is devoted to a survey of British 
literature from the time of Ben Jonson to 
the period immediately after Milton left 
Cambridge. It is written with all its author'f 
well-known critical acumen, and is diatin- 
gnished by his ripe judgment. It is at the 
same time rich m information. Of Itself, 
this alone is a work of no mean magnitude, 
and moat clearly demonstrates Mr. Mas- 
aoo's intention to leave nothing undone 
which, in a literary sense, could add to tlie 
value of his bistoiy. Those who are ac- 
quainted with his ' Esaays on British Novel- 
ists ' will find here a work equal to that in 
style and in power of critical analysis. One 
wonders, almost, that he should be able to 
'throw in this pearl carelessly, as it were, intc 
the midst of the other work he has ^ven us 
The snrvey hna. certainly added great intrin- 
sic value to the division in which it is set. 

In a preface to the second volume Mr 
Masson explains why the dimensions of hit 
work have grown so greatly on his hands. 
He fonnd, in the course of his inquiries, that 
it was not possible to confine his historical 
researches within the limita of a direct bear- 
ing upon the biography, and the history 
therefore gradually assumed an extended 
character. As might naturally be expected 
he continually found himself driven, for 
the elucidation of many points in the bio- 



graphy, into the domain of history. And 
he adds that he challenges independent con- 
[deration for the historical portion of his 
work quite as much as he does for the 
biographicid. It is evident, we think, that 
in both departments his efforts have been 
equally conscientious. By jadieious classi- 
fication he saves the reader an infinity of 
trouble, and no one can complain that he is 
cast into an unknown sea, there to pick up 
floating ^ars of fact as ho may be able. 
The work can be taken up or laid down at 
any period. Its separate parts carry us on by 
regular stages, and there is no possibility 
of confuuon or misapprehension. Turning 
to the biography we find that Milton return- 
ed to England in 1639,afterafifteenmonth8' 
absence, and shortly afterwards he comme- 
morated in the iSpitaphium Damoni* the loss 
of his dearest and closest friend, Charles 
Diodati, who had joined ' the majority ' dur- 
ing bis absence. Mr. Masson considers this 
Iioem one of the noblest things Milton has 
eft us, and most interesting in its personal 
revelations. A pemsal of the Pastoral 
affords a good basis for such an opiniim, 
fur the poem is full of a direct and intense 
pathos. At this period it was evident that 
the poet bad fuUy resolved to commit 
himself to a life of intellectual labour, and 
accordingly in 1639-40 we find bim leav- 
ing Horton and settling down in Ixindon 
for that purpose. Floating ideas, now of 
an heroic poem, and then of a tragedy, 
troubled his mind, and readings and digests 
with this view are given to the extent of 
ninety-eight subjects in all. The subject 
of ' Paradise Lost ' occupies the most 
prominent position in the list. Other roat^ 
ters of national import, however, speedily 
put an end, for a considerable period, to 
any designs he might have formed. We 
find him about the tune he had taken up his 
abode in Aldersgnte-street writing as follovrs 
regarding the new concessions upon liberty 
of speech and other matters — 

' Roused by the cognizance of these things, 
inasmuch as I perceived that the true way to 
liberty followed on from these beginnings — 
these first steps — that the advance was most 
rightly made to a liberation of the entire life of 
men from servilude, if a discipline taking its 
rise within religion should go forth thence to 
the manners and institutions of the Common- 
wealth, and inasmuch also as I had so prepared 
myself from my youth that above all things I 
could not be ignorant what is of Divine and 
wbat of human right, and had asked myself 
whether ever I should be of any use afterwards 
if then I should be wanting to my country, yea, 
to the Church, and to so many brethren expos- 
ing themselves to danger for the cause of the 
Gospel — I resolved, though I was then meditat- 



ed byGoOglc 



MassonU Milton and Am Times.'' 



Jan: 



lag certain other matters, to tnuisrer into this 
slru^le all mj genius and all tho strength of 
luy industry.' 

We are not surprised after this declaration 
to lind tho writer issuing three anti-Episco- 
pal j>ainpli1eta, wliich caused much comment 
as tbey respectively appeared. The langu^e 
in these pamphlets is instinct with fire, and 
the extracts given by Hr. Mosson abundantly 
justify the assertion that there is no prose- 
poetry in the langut^e coinpsrable with it. 
The eloquence is now sad and tender, and 
again wild and tempestuous as the hnrricanp 
of heaven. After bursting forth with charge 
after charge he draws a vivid picture of the 
miserable condition into which Episcopacy 
had piunged,the whole of the Britisli Isles. 
In the course of his ' Animadversions' Milt«n 
now and again gives us clear statements of 
his views upon theological questions nhich 
arc of interest at the present day. From his 
reply to Bishop Hall we extract the follow- 
ing as showing his estimate of Ordina- 

' As for Ordination, what is it but the lajring 
on of hands, an outward sign or symbol of ad- 
mission ? It creates nothing, it confers nothing, 
it is the inward calling of God that miikca a 
tninister, and his own painful study and dili- 
gence tbat improves and matures his ministe- 
rial gifts. In the primitive times, many before 
even they had received ordination from the 
Apostles bad done the Church noble service-- 
a>i Apollos and others. It is but an orderly 
form of receiving a man already fitted, and 
committing to him a particular charge.' 

It is easy to understand that views like 
these, set forth with a marvellons polemical 
skill, would fall like a bomb-shell in the midst 
of the ecclesiastical world, which was at tliat 
time fighting for the supremacy of its high 
dogmas. In the matter of pamphleteering 
Milton appears to have been much more than 
a match for his adversaries. The three 
pamphlets to which wc have referred were 
followed by two others, in which he profess- 
ed to argue against Prelacy on grounds of 
philosophic reason, or from a study of tbe 
principles of Christianity and human nature. 
These latter pamphlets, dealing with the 
question of Church government, demon- 
strate that, at the time he wrote them, Mil- 
ton's desire as to the Chnrch in England was 
to see it establisbed somewhat in the form 
of the Fresbytcrian Kirk in Scotland, as 
restored in 1638. It is notorioas that sub- 
sequently Milton condemned Presbyterianism 
utterly, ceased all connection with it, and, 
in fact, considered it little better than Epis- 
copacy. This, however, was after it deve- 
loped an intolerance of which the poet would 
have imagined it incapable. Into his fierce 



controversy with Bishop Hall respecting th? 
Smectymnuans we cannot enter here, but it is 
rather amusing to discover that at the end 
of these hot religious discussions tho Halls 
throw out the suggestion tbat Milton ' was 
looking after a rich widow, and had written 
his former pamphlet, and especially had 
inserted in it the cstraordinary prayer in the 
name of the three kingdoms, in order to 
gain this widow's affections.' Milton replies 
that in order that his accuser may know ■ 
' how his astrology is wide all the houses of 
the heaven in spelling marriages, I care not 
if I tell him this much profestly, though it 
be to the losing; of my " rich hopes," as he 
calls them — that I think with then) who, 
both in prudence and elegance of spirit, 
would choose a virgin of mean fortunes, 
honestly bred, before tiie wealthiest widow.' 
This leads us past all such questions as, Was 
Milton ever in the army or in the tr.-unod 
bands! tohismarrii^e with Mary Powell, of 
the Powells of Forest Hill, near Shotover, 
with which the biographical portion of tlie 
second volume fitly closes. Tho Powells 
were Royalists, and Milton's entry into the 
family b said to have been hurried and unet- 
pected. The bridegroom was thirty-five and 
the bride seventeen ; they knew little of each 
other before ma^riJ^fe, and in a very short 
time after that event the bride returned to 
her father's house at Forest Hill, ' on a visit.' 
More of this visit, however, will be heard 

Tho historical portion of tliis second volume 
opens with an event which had very hupor- 
tant bearings on the general political aspect 
of England, viz., the Scottish Presbyterian re- 
volt, as it is termed by the historian. Much 
is to be found in other records of the pro- 
gress of that great quarrel between King 
Charles and the Scots respecting' bishops; 
but Mr. Masson has felt it incumbent upon 
him to tell the story once more in his own way. 
He certainly has done it with great fulness, 
and those who woulil desire to read a succinct 
account of the Scotch Covenantors will find 
one in bis clear, sensible pages. Charles 
sent his cousin, the Marquis of Hamilton, to 
be a mediator between himself and his dis- 
contented subjects; thus showing that he 
placed no credence in the popular rumour 
that that nobleman was angling for the 
crown of Scotland. After much beating 
about the bush on the King's side, conces- 
sions were authorized to be made, and the . 
whole kingdom was moved with delight, till 
the King required the people to give up 
their own Covenant and sign one concocted 
by his counsellors. Thfc Glasgow Assembly 
of 1638 met whilst matters were still unar- 
ranged, aud Hamilton did all in his power 



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Maseon's Milton and his Times. 



4? 



to obstruct the proceedings of the Assembly, 
Although ordered to dissolve on pain of 
treason, this body went on boldly with their 
sittings, and by the end of the year they had 
accomplished n tolerable amount of work. 
Tliey not only completely swept Episcopacy 
out of the land, but re-established the Kirk 
on the Presbyterian model. The moderator 
of this Assembly was the famous Alexander 
Henderson, who is accepted as the great 
successor of Joho Knox. Some idea of the 
manner in which tjcotland was regarded by 
Englishnacn at this period — as a poor, mise- 
rable land — may be gathered from the sati- 
ristsalone. Cleveland'pungently wrote short- 
ly afterwards, espressing, however, a sentiment 
long prcFalent: — 

' Had Cain been Scotch, God would have changed 

his doom ; 
Not made him wander, but compelled him 

Contempt, nevertheless, gave way to inte- 
rest when the talk respecting the Covenanters 
became general. It being found impossible 
to arrange matters with the 'refractor)'' 
Scots, Charles declared war against them ; 
and after calling for contributions, marched 
to the border. Being unsuccessful, however, 
in reducing them to obedience, he was fain 
to sign a treaty, or ' Pacification,' which 
was very precarious and shortlived. Gradu- 
ally there sprang up in England a strong 
feeling of sympathy with the Scots. This 
was perceii'ed by (amongst others) Hall, the 
liiKhop of Exeter ; and Mr. Masson's research- 
es have shown that this prelate was by do 
means so high-minded and above suspicion 
of mean actions as loose historianshave gen- 
erally thought The result of a correspon- 
dence between llall and Laud as to the 
uocessity of closing the mouths of the Scots 
was the production by the former of his 
pamphlet, entitled, ' Episcopacy by Divine 
Right Asserted.' This pamphlet led to 
others, and after the settlement of certain 
riots in London, Charles began his sec- 
ond bishops' war with the Scots. At this 
juncture, in November, 1 640, the Long 
Parliament met in Westminster. Its acts 
are too indelible to need recapitulation. 
But the principal one was undoubtedly the 
death of Slrafiord, whose impeachment was 
due to Pym in the first instance, Charles, 
having been a tyrant, was now a traitor to 
his best friend, and gave his assent to Straf- 
ford's execution. Shortly afterwards came 
the great English Church -reform movement, 
in which the Boot-and-Branch party bore so 
conspicuous a part -They were really the 
Presbyterian party, but took their name from 
a desire they ehorisbed for the abolition of 



Epiacopacj, * root and brancli,' for the anni- 
hilation of all dignities above that of a sim- 
ple niiiiister, and for the sequestration of the 
ecclesiastical revenues of bishops and other 
dignitaries, to be applied to humbler uses or 
State purposes. A pamphlet war ensued 
between Hall and the Smcetymnuans, and the 
reforming party lost their ftoot-and-Branch 
Bill in the Lords. Action and reaction 
went on for some months, no opproaeh be- 
ing made to a settlement of those differences 
which were gradually widening the breach 
between the King and Parliament. In 1641 
the Grand Kemouslrance was presented to 
the King, showing the evils which had crept 
into the kingdom, and pointing out tue 
remedies. Charles deigned no answer to 
this, but shortly afterwards made his memo- 
rable unsuccessful attempt to seize five 
prominent members of the House of Com- 
mons. Parliament became master of the 
field (Charles having retreated to Windsor), 
and passed the Bishops' Evclusion Bill. 
The remaining portion of this instalment of 
the work is devoted to a description of the 
events which led to the drifting into the 
Civil War; and most valuable information is 
given aa'to the composition and early move- 
ments of the respective armies. We are 
also shown the famous Westminster Assem- 
bly in session ; and, finally, Mr. Masson de- 
tails the steps by which Brownism, after- 
wards Independency or- Congregationalism, 
rose to be such a formidable foe to Presby- 
terianism. New-England Congregationalism, 
too, is somewhat exhaustively treated, and 
sketches are given of the most eminent New- 
England Ministers, including John Cotton, 
Hanserd Knollys, Hugh Peters, and last, but 
not least, Roger Williams. In the West- 
minster Assembly the Presbyterian element 
WHS overwhelmingly strong at the outset, but 
we are soon to witness a re-invigoration of 
Independency which doubtless astonished the 
religious and pohtical parties of the period. 
Beyond all question, the third volume of 
Mr. Masson's stupendous work, taken as a 
whole, centres in itself the most interest ; 
for it is in tiiis that there is recorded one of 
the fiercest struggles in our national history. 
It is here that we find described that great 
confiiet of mind as well as of the sword, in 
which were arrayed in deadly strife great 
and eminent powers. The story of the Civil 
War is no new one with us; but we cannot 
too deeply study its lessons, fraught as it 
was with the most important and permanent 
issues for ourselves. The recapitulation of 
the events of that intensely stirring and 
momentous period b performed in these 
p^ea with a clearness and a conciseness of 
diction which many of onr writers would do 



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Masson's Milton and hit Times. 



Jao. 



well to imitate ; and Mr. Masson baa endea- 
voured — and we think with almost complete 
nQCcess — to do justice to tlie rarious charac- 
ters and circumstance a with which he has 
to deal. It is occasionally difficult to per- 
ceive how the history bears upon Milton, 
and vice versa, but looking at it from his 
owD stand-point we have after aU little ad- 
vene criticism to pass upon the historian. 
A threat portion of the history of this third 
volnme has a deep interest for Nonconfor- 
mists in general and for Congregationalists 
in particular. It commences with the West- 
minster Assembly in session, whose ordinary 
business was suspended for the purpose of 
passing the Solemn League and Covenant. 
In a preat measure this was due to Alexan- 
der Uendereon, who was desirous of bind- 
ing the two nations in a permanent civil and 
religious alliance. Henderson is described 
as ' all in all, one of the ablest and best men 
of bis age in Britwn, and the greatest, the 
wisest, and most liberal of the Scottish 
Preebj'terianB, They had all to consult 
him ; in every strait and conflict he had 
to be appealed to, and cnme in at the last 
as the man of superemiuent composqje, com- 
prehensiveness, and breadth of brow.' A 
great contest, seen for some time to be inevi- 
table, arose in the Assembly between the 
Presbyterians and the Congr^ationalists. 
The battle was really between two principles 
of Chnrch oi^nization, which are thus put 
by Mr. Masson : — 

' Was every indiviilual assembly or associa- 
tion of Christians to be an Independent eccle- 
siastical organism, entitled to elect " 



itself — any action of surrounding congrego- 
tionR upon it being an action of mere observa- 
tion and criticism, and not of power or juris- 
diction ; and no authority lo belong to meet- 
ings of the offlce-bearors of congregations at 
the same city or neighbourhood, or to general 
synods of ofRce-bearers, however useful for 
various purposes such occasional meetings and 
synods might be f This was what the Inde- 
pendents maintained ; and to this the Presby- 
terians vehemently said, Nay. It was not 
desirable, they said in the first place, that con- 
gregations themselves should tie mere gather- 
ings of Christiana drawn together by chance 
affinities. That would be to put an end to 
the parochial system, with all the advantages 
of ordcrlincs!! and effective administration that 
belonged to it Let every eongre^tion con- 
sist, as heretofore, mainly of the inhabitants 
of one parish or dofinitelv marked ecclesiasti- 
cal territory. Then let there be a strict inter- 
connecledness of all these parochial congrega- 
tions over the whole land by means of an 
ascending series of church judicatories. Let 
the congregations of the same town or district 
I>e connected by a Presbyterial Court, couEist- 



ing of the assembled ministers and the ruling 
lay elders of alt the congregations, periodically 
reviewing the proceedings of the said congre- 
gations individually, or bearing appeals from 
them ; and let these Presbyteries or Presbyte- 
rial Courts be in like manner under the autho- 
rity and review of Synods, embracing many 
Presbyteries within their bounds: and, Bnallr, 
of National Assemblies of the whole Church. 
Fierce and hot wased the war between the two 

The Independents, being weak in voting 

fower in the Assembly, issued an appeal to 
'arliament and public opinion, before a 
final decision was taken on the great ques- 
tion. Meanwhile, Parliament was engaged 
in ejecting ultra-royalist ministers, — a task 
which, contrary to the statements of partial 
judges, they accomplished with little injus- 
tice, considering its magnitude. The war 
at this time was still being carried on ; the 
Covenant had become stringent; and the 
Scotch army was on the march.. At the close 
of 1643 the illustrious Pym died, and full 
honours were paid to his memory. In 1644 
it was seen that though the metropolis and 
the Assembly were very largely Presbyte- 
rian, yet Independency prevailed in the 
country and the army, and Cromwell was 
already snokon of as 'the great Indepen- 
dent ' With the battle of Maraton Moor 
the cause of Parliament progressed, and the 
army was soon afterwards reconstructed as 
the New Model. This organization well 
approved its name by \Xa doings at the bat- 
tle of Naseby. The remainder of the his- 
tory is occupied with the King's flight to 
the Scots, and the negotiations into which 
be entered, but without tangible results. 
Oradually the sad tragedy of Charies's life 
approaches, and we are taken through all 
the several steps of his vicissitudes, till on 
that cold grey morning in January we find 
him paying the penalty of his treason at 
Whitehall. It appears that at the time of 
his execution, Milton was engaged upon a 
pamphlet which had for its object the estab- 
lishment of the proposition that it had 
'always beeu lawful, through all time, for 
any who had the power, to call a tyrant to 
account, to depose him, and if necessary, 
to execute him, if the magistrate whose 
duty it was had failed to do so.' Into this 
point of constitutional controversy wo can- 
not now enter ; besides, is it not fully dis- 
cussed in the books of the chronicles of Ilal- 
lam, Macaulay, and other historians, where 
every shade of opinion may find, as it believes, 
some Bubstiintial warrant for its existence ! 

One of the most impoilant personal epi- 
sodes in Milton's life examined in this volume 



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Massotta Milton and kit Times. 



49 



the subject wisely and well. He has cer- 
tainly endeavoured to hold the scales be- 
tween the parties with tho most perfect fair- 
ness. It is tolerahly well-Iinown to all that 
very sliortly after his marriage Miitou desir- 
ed a divorce, but tliere is some difficulty in 
understanding what led precisely to this. 
It would appear, liowcver, from the poet's 
own language that it was principally because 
there-was no 'fit and raatehable conversa- 
tion ' between himself and Ills young wife ; 
and he issued a tract to prove the thesis that 
indisposition, unfitness, or contrwiety of 
mind, which hindered the solace and peace 
of married life, were a greater reason for di- 
vorce than those grosser reasons which ge- 
nerally prevail. With this view he attempt- 
ed to procure a sweeping revision in the 
marriage law, observing that ' he, therefore, 
who by adventuring shall bo so happy as 
with success to ease and set free the minds 
of ingenuous and apprehensive men from this 
needless thraldom. . . he that can but 
lend us the clue that winds out this labyrinth 
of servitnde to such a reasonable and expe- 
dienl"iiberty as this, deserves to be reckoned 
among the public benefactors of civil and 
human life, above the inventors of wine and 
oil.' Although in the course of his pam- 
phlets Milton makes no reference to his own 
case, we can yet glean something of what 
was passing through his mind with regard to 
his difficuIUes. Ihe continual references to 
incompatibility and to want of communion 
between two married spirits must have a 
definite meaning. Virtually, we believe, he 
asks this— Why should I not have a divorce 
for what is as irksome to me as dissimilar 
causes are to others ! Yet he knew that this 
was a startling question to put to the world, 
and one for which it was by no means pre- 
pared. He knew he was moving towaras a 
divoree on grounds which had never hither- 
to been legally sufhcient, and he felt that a 
justification was necessary. Wc cannot see 
that anything would liace led him into these 
divorce polemics hut a strong conviction at 
the time of a complete and absolute mental 
and spiritual incompatibility between himself 
and his wife. The whole weight of his ar- 
guments, and the passionate exclamations 
with which they are interspersed, point to 
the same conclusion. He resolved to talkto 
the world plainly on the subject ; he shud- 
dered to think that many were possibly in 
the same miserable condition as himself,' and 
regarded marriage as a thing ' coipmitting 
two ensnared souls inevitably to kindle one 
another, not with (he 6re of love, but with a 
hatred irreconcilable, who, were they st 
cd, would be straight friends in any other 
relation.' In one passage be distinctly e 
VOL, LIX, B— 4 



gnes that he is moved to this step of writing 
to justify himself for his wish to procure the 
divorce on the ground of incompatibility. 
What could be clearer than this I ' Some 
are - ready to object that the disposition 
ought seriously to be considered before. But 
let them know agoin, tliat, for all the wari- 
ness that can be used, it may yet befall a 
discreet man to be mistaken in his choice, 
and we have plenty of examples; and where 
any indisposition is suspected, what more 
usual than the persuasion of friends that ac- 
quaintance, as it increases will mcnddit' 
Milton was fully impressed with the gravity 
of the question which he seemed before the 
world to be resting upon a slight bftsia. Uui 
views on the subject of divorce have not 
only not been adopted, but they probably 
never will — one ground alone being consi- 
dered sufficient upon which to reject them — 
viz., the ground of loosening the sanctity 
and importance of the marriage tie by the 
ease with which it could be dissolved. With 
regard to Milton's own specific arguments, it 
may be noted that he significantly omits t& 
deal with the other side of the subject, to 
wit, the right of a woman to claim a separa- 
tion or divorce from the husband on the 
same grounds upon which he would grant it 
to the man. Abundant evidence, indeed, 
exists to show that be claimed a superiority 
for man as the head of the woman, and did 
not admit her right to an equal position in 
the married life. Those, however, who wish 
to learn more regarding the vexed controver- 
sy which the poet instituted can turn to the 
volume for themselves, where Mr. Masson 
has handled the question in that ^irit of 
candor and impartiality for which he is so 
deservedly esteemed. 

Up to the year 1645 Milton had made 
himself knowu through the press chiefly asa 
pamphleteer. With tho eiception of tho 
lines 'On Shakspeare,' 'Comus,' 'Lycidaa,' 
and a scrap or two of verse, all the poems he 
had composed in twenty years remained in 
manuscript. In tAe year just named these 
were collected and published by Humphrey 
Moseley, in « very diminutive volume. The 
book iucUded the English and Latin poems, 
and th? poet adopted as his motto the words 
of tke young poet-shepherd Thyrsis in Vir- 
gil's pastoral. Contending with his brother 
Corydon for the prize in poetry, he asks 
from the shepherds — if they cannot grant 
him the prize of perfect excellence — 

" Some green thing round the brow. 
Lest ill tongncB hurt the poet yet to i>e." 

The publisher Moseley appears to have been 
a man of some knowledge ^d parts, and wa.s 
enthusiastic respecting these poems, of which 



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Maaaon's Milton and his Times. 



collectively it Uaa been asserted that ' since 
Spenser's deatli there had been no English 
poetry of Spenser's kind equal to that 
tilled in this volume.' 

Fore specimen of oar author's assiduity 
as an historian we can <:omm<>nd to the reader 
his elaborate sketch of the Sects and Secta- 
ries in England at the time of the Civil War. 
He has spared no pains to accnmalate details 
respecting every knovrn religious body, de- 
tails which appear in proper order with a 
summary of the dislinctive tenets held by 
the various sects. Certainly religious 
thought would seem to have been as active 
at this time as at anV period in the island's 
history,, and it is exceedingly entertaining 
and instTucttve to tarn to these records now, 
where wc find views in full operation similar 
to others in our own age, and which we have 
been iu the habit of considering as new with 
the nineteenth century. For instance, the 
Materialists of the present were more than 
foreshadowed by the Soui-alcepers or Morta- 
tists, whose leading tenet was that 'the no- 
lion of a soul or supernstural and immortal 
essence, in man, distinct from his bodily or- 
ganism, is a sheer delusion, contradicted 
both by Scripture and. correct physiological 
thinking, and that from this notion have 
ariwn all kinds of superstitions and practical 
mischiefs.' I'hen there weie the Sceptics or 
Qncstionists, who ' questioned everything in 
matters of religion, holding nothing positive- 
ly nor certainly, saving the doctrine of pre- 
tended liberty of conscience for all, and liber- 
ty of prophesying.' Sketches are also given 
of the Anabaptists (the most numerous of 
tbe Sectaries), to whom the famous Praiae- 
Qod-Barebones belonged ; the Old Brown- 
ists, who were independents, but of an ex- 
treme type; the Antinomians, a sect which 
originated with Luther's contemporary and 
fellow-townsman, John Agricola, of Eisle- 
ben ; the Familiscs, whose mun principle was 
that every society oE Christians should be a 
kind of family party, jolly within itself in 
confidential love-fesats and interchanges of 
aentiment, and letting the gsneral world and 
its creeds roar around unquestioned and un- 
heeded — though a somewhat different ac~ 
count is also given of them ; the Millenaries, 
who looked for a taniporat kingdom of 
Oirist ; the Seekers, whose doctrines may be 
almost gnessed from their name, and whose 
. chief ornament was Roger Williams ; the 
Divorcers, of whom Milton was the represen- 
tative, and who were caricatured at the time 
by the picture of a man in an admonishing 
attitude, and without his hat, dismissing or 
putting away his wife who has her bat on^ 
as if reaily for a journey, and is putting a 
handkerchief to her eyes; the Anti-Sabba- [ 



Jan, 

tarians, whose name Is sufiiciently explana- 
tory of their chief tenet; the Arians, Soci- 
nians, and other Anti-Trinitarians ; the Anti- 
Scripturists and the Atheists. From all of 
which it will be perceived that the seven- 
teenth century was troubled by a great many 
religious theorists. These various sects, not 
very powerful individually, hung on to the 
Independents because of their support of the 
principle of liberty of conscience. 

A very slight transition brings us to what 
is the most attractive poition of the latest 
instalment of Mr. Masson's work — viz., his 
sketch of the rise and progress of Toleralaon. 
We think that Ilallam* has scarcely gone 
deep enough when he says that ' a common 
cause made Toleration the doctrine of the 
sectaries.' There were noble spirits who at 
that time held that everybody's conscience 
should he absolutely free in matters of reli- 
gion, and that it was the inherent right of 
every man to judge for himself, extending to 
others tliat freedom which be himself enjoy- 
ed. Nay, the principle of Toleration must 
have been held on the Continent by some 
minds long before this, for we find that Cal- 
vin incurred odium by the death of Serve- 
tus.f It is trne that Southey, in his work 
on the Church, asserts that up to the time 
of Elizabeth, 'no church, no sect, no indivi- 
dual even, had yet professed tbe principle of 
Toleration ; ' but he has been proved to be 
incorrect. Tliis subject is one of especial in- 
terest to Dissenters, and the Independents 
and Bapti^U may well cherish pride in their 
forefathers, who so fearlessly asserted the 
grand idea of liberty of conscience. Profes- 
sor MasBon pays the following well-deserved 
tribute to them in tbe chapter devoted to 
tbe examination of the question of Tolera- 

' The history, of the modern idea of Tolera- 
tion could be written completely only after a 
larger amount of minute and 8|)Gcini research 
than 1 am able here to bestow on the subject. 
Who shall say in the heads of what stray and 
solitary men scattered through Europe in the 
sixteenth centurj, nan tiu rai-i ta guTffUevaito, 
some fonn of the idea, as a purely speculative 
conception, may have heen lodged f Ilallam 
finds It in the " Utopia" of Sir Thomas More 
(U80-I53.'i), and in the harangues of the Chan- 
cellor of the Hospital of France (1505-1573) ; 
and there may have been others. But the his- 
tory of the idea, as a practical or political no- 
tion lies within a more precise range. Out of 
wUat within Europe in the sixteenth and 
seventeenth centuries was the practical form 
of the idea bred ? Out of pain, out of suffer- 
ing, out of persecution ; not pain inflicte<l 
— itantly on one and the same section of 



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( Mi.ttn and kU Timts. 



men, or on ony two oppoKcil seclions alter- 
nately, but pain rcvoWirg, pain circulfttucl, 
puin distributed till the whole round of the 
compaafl of sects had felt it in turn, and the 
only principle of its prevention gradually 
dawned on the common consciousneas ! In 
every persecuted cause, honestly conducted, 
there was a throe towards the birth of this 



establislied power; and so, by a kind of accu- 
mulation, the cause that had been last perse- 
cuted had more of a tendency to toleration in 
it, and became practically raore tolerant than 
the others. This I think might be proved. 
The Church of England was more tolerant 
than the Church of Kome, and Scottish Prcs- 
bytcrianism or Scottish Puritanism was more 
tolerant (thougli the reverse is usually assert- 
ed) than the Church of England prior to 1840. 
Not to the Church of England, however, nor 
to Scottish Presbyterian ism, nor to English 
Puritanism at largo, does thn honour of the tinit 
jicrcention of the full principle of liberty of 
conscience, and its first assertion in Eti([lish 
speech, belong. That honour lias to be as- 
signed, I believe, to the Indcpendentii gene- 
rally, and to the Baptists in particular,' 

It has been found that the principle of 
toleration was di.scrniblc so far back as in the 
writi.igs of Robert Brown, the father of the 
in(ip!cnt Independency of Elizabeth's reign, 
and also amongst llie Baptists in Henry 
VIII. 's time. But a sect despised by many 
— viz., the Anglo-Dutoli Baptist?, luid first 
preached the doctrine in a formal manner, 
for ill a confession, or declaration of faith, 
put forth in 1611 bvthe English Baptists tu 
Amsterdam, this article occurs — ' Tlie magis- 
trate is not to meddle with religion, or mat- 
ters of conscience, or to compel men to thi;: 
or that form of religion ; because Christ is 
the King and Lawgiver of the Church and 
Conscience' To the full height of this de- 
claration, made two centuries andahalf ogo, 
many religious bodies have not yet attained. 
In some respects the Baptists had advanced 
further than the Independents in this matter, 
and also in the formation of churches, for 
while the latter generally held that the civil 
power might lawfully compel all its subjects to 
sonto sort of hearing of the Gospel with a 
view to their belouowg to churches or con- 
gregations, the Baptists always strenuously 
denied this. They held that the world 
or civil society and the Church of Christ 
were totally distinct and immiscible. In the 
minds of Hogcr Williams and John Ooodwin 
the idea of Toleration obtained full and nn- 
limited sway. The Westminster Assembly 
generally exhibited the strongest opposition 
to the tenet, and Mr. Thomas Hill, in a spe- 
cial sermon preached before that body, as- 
Hcrtcd that, ' snch as would liavc a tolera- 



tion of all ways of religion in Hia Church ' 
were unfaithful to the Covenant, and in 
fact that 'to set the door so wide open as 
to tolerate all religions' would be to make 
.London an Amsterdam, and ' would lead to 
— would .certainly lead to — Amstcrdauina- 
tion ! ' All who wish to learn more on this 
topic, which has so much to offer thnt is new 
and valuable, we must refer to Mr. Masson's 
pages. 

No more than a passing referenco can be 
made to the attacks on Milton for his defi- 
ance of the book-censorship and the Statio- 
ners' Company. Everyone knows that it 
was these proceedings which resulted in one 
of the most splendid pieces of eloqueucc 
with which English prose literature is adorn- 
ed. Milton's ' Areopagitica,' a Speech for 
the Liberty of Unlicensed Frinttug, shows 
the poet in his loftiest mood, his spirit burn- 
ing with indignation at the unwarrantabk* 
interference with liberty. His arguments 
arc powerful and crushing, and his declama- 
tion wonderfully sustained. Doubtless oue 
of the reasons why this book holds such a 
strong place in our regard at this day i* be- 
cause it was the first throwing down of the 
gauntlet on behalf of a great principle so 
pregnant with importance for succeeding ge- 
nerations. Mr, Masson says of this work — 

' It is, perhaps, the most skilful of all Mil- 
ton's prose- writing, the most equable and 
sustained, the easiest to be read straight 
through at once, and the' fittest to leave one 
glowing sensation of the power of the au- 
thor's genius. It is a pleading of the highest 
eloquence and courage, with interspersed pas- 
sages of curious information, keen wit, and 
even a rich humour, such as we do not com- 
monly look for in Milton. He mu?t have 
taken great pains to make the performance 

Those who know the * Areopagitica * for 
themselves will agree with this diutum. 

We have now completed our retume of 
Mr, Masson's work up to the present time. 
There yet remains a considerable portion of 
the poet's life to deal with, ana the bio- 
grapher's material is anything but exhausted. 
Wo Jiave, however, finished with some of 
the moRt important events in the history, and 
that which comes hereafter will be more 
purely personal to Jlilton, as the author of 
the sublimest poem in the language. Con- 
cluding with a few observations on the man- 
ner in which Mr. Masson is fulfilhng his pro- 
digious task, we may remark that his writ- 
ing, for the moat part, is fully equal to what 
we should have expected, from our previous 
knowledge of his style. The way in which ho 
tells his story is most entiutng, and a large pro- 
portion of what, on a cursory view, seem to he 



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JUind and the Science of Energy. 



tliree dry, unwieldy, and leviathan voltimes, 
posaeascs all the interest of a novel, with the 
Buperiority of the real over the fictitious. Oc- 
casionally Mr. Masson falls into colloquia- 
lisms which are not befitting the dignity 
of his subject, and which mar thotie passages 
of the history in which they occur; but this 
is a fault of which wo have not very fre- 
quenlly to complain, and it is condoned by^ 
the general cxcelluncQ of the work. The 
original plan of the author was to divide 
Milton's life into thi-ee periods, giving a vo- 
lume to each ; but we find that the close of 
the third volume brings ns but a few years 
beyond the proposed bound of the first. Of 
courite, it will not be necessary to deal at 
nuch length with the latter half of the poet's 
life, bat even if the wort should only be 
completed with the issue of two or more 
volumes, the world will not regret, for surely 
it can afford to receive and welcome so full 
a record of a life which it holds in peculiar 
reverence. We trust at no distant date to 
be able to congratulate Sir, Masson on the 
completion of his enterprise — an enterprise 
which only psrtially obtains its reward in 
the gratitude of the living, appealing, as it 
does, with undoubted certiunty of success, 
for a yet fuller and deeper appreciation from 
posterity. 



Art. V, — Mind and the SeUnee of Eatrgy. 

The connection between the two classes of 
phenomena known as material and mental, 
remains, and is likely to remain, as myste- 
rious and debateablc ns ever ; hut the prob- 
lem enters into ho many interesting and 
pressing questions, that it ean never cease to 
excite attention, though confessedly insolu- 
ble. And since the subject has quite as 
much to do with physics as with meta- 
physics, the continual advance of the physi- 
cal seienccs presents it occasionally under 
new aspects. The aim of this essay is to 
show that certain recent hut generally-ac- 
cepted theories concerning the physical 
forces touch the question, and affect the po- 
sition of mind. 

Tlio law of the conservation of energy v 
one of these generalizations, and is now so 
familiar as not to require detailed exposition, 
It is unnecessary to make quotations in sup- 
port of the statement that the various forms 
of energy existing in the material universe 
arc now supposed to constitute a grand store 
of force, which never suffers diminution or 
increase ; but whenever a certain amotint of 
energy censes to exist in one form, exactly 



Jan. 



that quantity is converted into one or more 
of the other forms, through a aeries of trans- 
formations which proceed for ever, and mani- 
fest themselves in the endless changes of the 
world- The following passage from Pro- 
fessor Tyndall's Lectures on Heat gives a 
vivid and comprehensive conception of the 
theory : — 

It is at the Mpense of the solar light th»l 
decomposition of carbonic acid. by_^which 
,d animals are nourished, 

And^^ . ' 

actly equi' 
ed. _I( th. 
sand is heated, 
much as it 



Sccted. 

lount of sunlight is consumed ex- 
ent to the molecular work eflect- 
"^ jys fall on sand, the 

finally radiates away aa 
if the same rays fall oi 



forest, thejquanlity 






n back is lets 



loresc, me quaniiLV o^^j ^ » . h 

ih.. tb.i ™ri...d, f.7«ter£, ,fi£ 



building of 



i cotton, which 
t by burning; 
alistracted 



of the sunbeams is invcstci 
the trees. I ignite a bundle 
yields a certain quantity 

Srccisely that amount of 
:om the sun in order to form the 
' The sun too, is the source of : 
In the plant the clock is wound up 
mal it runs down. In the plant tl 
separated ; in the animal reconiljincd. 
surely as tlie force which moves a 
hands is derived from the arm which 
it, BO surely is all terrestrial power 
from the sun. His warmth keeps 1 
liquid, and the atmosphere a gas. He ll 
the rivers and glaciers up the mountail 
The gross grows, and the scythe swings, 
his power. .... 

' The sun's energy is poured freely ir 
space, but our world is a halting place wbei 
his energy is conditioned. It takes a milli 
shapes and hues, and finally dissolves into 

Erimitive form. The sun comes to us as heat, 
c quits us as heat, and between the entrance i 
and departure of his energy tlie multifoml \ 
powers of our globe appear. They are the \ 
moulds into which his strenglh is touiporaril; i 
poured in ])assing from its source through in- 
finitude.'— {Pp. 481^33.) 

In the inorganic woHd the physical forces, 
heat, light, electricity, magnetism, chemical 
afiinity, Ac, have been proved by experiment 
to be mutually convertible ; and the precise 
amount of one which ia equivalent to a cer- 
tain precise amount of another has been, 
at least in many cases, ascertained. In 
the oiwanic world tlt«^ifiiculty of experi- 
ment ia much greater, but there is every rea- 
son short of actual demonstration to believe 
that in the domain of life tire forms of 'ener- . 

gy observe the same law ; that is to say, are * 

drawn from the common store of force, and 
restored to it again, and change from forrti 
to fonn in proportions equally exact. So 
that the ener^^cs of the animal fnunc, mus- 
cular, nervous, and the rest, are to be ranked 
among the physical forces as strictly aa those 
of the volcano and the steam engine. 



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JUind and the Science of Energy. 



Of nerve foree, with which this inquiry is 
specially concerned, Professor Bain writes r — 

' Nervous^powcr is generated from the ac- 
tion of the nutriment supplied to the body, 
Bnd is therefore of the class of forces having a 
common origin, and capable of being mutually 
transmitted, including mechanicBl momen- 
tum, heat, electricity, magnetism, and chemi- 
cal decomposition 

'The nerve force that is derived from the 
waste of a given amount of food, is capable of 
being transmuted into any other force of ani- 
mal life. Poured into the muscles during 
' violent conscious effort, it increases their ac- 
tivity ; passing to the nlimeDiar; canal, it aids 
in the force of digestion ; in moments of ex- 
citement the power is tonverted into sensible 
heat ; the same power is found capable of 
yielding true elcctricol currents. The evi- 
dence that establishes the common basis of 
mechanical and chemical force, heat, and elec- 
tricity, namely, their mutual convertibility 
Bnd common origin, establishes the nerve 
force as a member of the same group.' — (' The 
Senses and the Intellect,' pp. 00, GO.) 

The energy of the universe has been de- 
, scribed us a store of force which never suf- 
fers diminution or increase. But the whole 
of it is not always operative. Portions of it 
lie latent for longer or shorter periods, but 
until they are dissipated by passing into ac- 
tivity, they remain stored up in readiness to 
perform their natural operations. Thus, 
when the weight of a clock has derived force 
from the arui which wound it, that force 
■nay either be given back at once by a sud- 
den fall, or expended gradually in the move- 
ments of the clock, or not expended for an 
indefinite time, if the weight be lifted on 
to B shelf. Tlie cotton, which by burning 
yields back the heat which it abstracted ori- 
ginally from the sun, may do so sooner or 
later, or not at nil. The Leydcn jar, charg- 
ed with clectiicity, may remain charged, or 
may dissipate its energy at one shock, or by 
a series of slighter shocks. And the ner- 
vous centres, replenished after food, may ex- 
pend their force quickly in exhausting eflbrts, 
or part with it slowly in gentle exertions. 
Energy is therefore recognised as being 
Bometiiiies latent or potential, somotimes ac- 
tual or kinetic ; and the law in question has 
been shortly expressed by saying that 'the 
sum of the potential and dynamic energies of 
the matcrlHl universe is a constant quantity.' 

Again ; a distinction must be drawn, at 
least in thought-, between the operations by 
which alone physical energy is known to us, 
and energy itself, conceived of as effecting 
those operations. I'lie operations of physi- 
cal energy consist of the motions of matter, 
in every instance which we are able to inves- 
tigate, unless the phenomena of conscious- 



ness he included aioong them, and deemed 
exceptions ; a question which is about to be 
discussed. We cannot even figure to our 
minds any change of matter xrhich does not 
consist of motion. 

The motions maybe either molar or mole- 
cular ; [hat is, may be either those of masses 
visible to the eye, or those of the particles 
composing such masses, which move in orbits 
generally too small to destroy the cohesion 
of the particles, or to appear to the sight as 
movements. Thus heat (as a property of 
bodies, not the sensation) is a molecular agi- 
tation, which may become snfSeiently intense 
to expand, and even to break up the masses 
exposed to it. It looscnsthe molecules of ice, 
for example, till that solid becomes a liquid, 
and may sever them so violcnlly that they fly 
apart as steam. So light consists of undula- 
tions, waves of diflcrent lengths answering to 
different colours. In like manner, electricity 
and magnetism arc preseutcd to us simply as 
matter moving in difi"erent ways. Chemical 
changes, again, arc revealed to us only as 
movements. Acta of muscular energy con- 
sist of contractions ; acta of nerve-force of 
movements in the nervous oi^nism, botli 
accompanied by the chemical changes involv- 
ed in the waste of tissue, and necessitating 
those involved in its repair. 

Professor Huxley writes: — 

' If there is one thing clear about the pro- 
gress of modem science, it is the tendency to 
reduce all scientific problems, except those 
which are purely mathematical, to questions 
of molecular physics; that is to sny, to the 
attractions, repulsions, motions, and co-ordi- 
nation of the ultimate particles of matter. . . 

' The phenomena of biology and of chemis- 
try are, in Ibeir ultimate analysis, questions of 
molecular physics. Indeed the fact is ac- 
knowledged by all chemists and biologists 
who look beyond their immediate occupa- 
tions,' — (Essay on the ' Scientific AB)>ectB of 
Positivism,' in 'Lay Sermons,' Ac, p. 183.) 

Energy in action, or kinetic energy, is 

E resented to us, then, as motion of various 
inds; and some arc disposed to rest in that 
conception of it, and to discard the idea that 
imponderable agents, subtle fluids, occult 
principles, or anything at all hes behind to 
be distincruished from the movements pro- 
duced. Such, at least, is the view which Air. 
Grove presents in his essay on ' The Correla- 
tion of Physical Forces.' 

'The course of reasoning adopted appears 
to mo to lead inevitably to the conclusion 
that tWese affections of matter are themselves 
modes of motion ; that, as in the case of fric- 
tion, the gross or palpable motion, which is 
arrested by the contact of another body, is 
subdivided into molecular motions or vibra- 
tions, which vibrntiona are heat or electricity, 



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54 

as the case may be ; so the other afTections are 
only matter moved or moleculorly a^tated in 
certain definite directions. .... Han; admit 
that electricity and megnetiBnt cause or pro- 
duce by their passage vibrations in the parti- 
cles of matter, but regard the vibrations pro- 
duced as an occasional, though not always a 



Mind and the Science of Energy. 



tlsm. The view which I have taken is, that 
BDch vibrstioDB, muleculer polarizstions or 
motions of some sort from particle to particle, 
«re themselves electricity or magnetism; or, 
to express it in the converse, that dynamic 
electricity and magnetism are themselves mo- 
tion, and that permanent magnetism and 
Franklinic electricity are static conditions of 
force, bearing a similar relation to motion 

which tenMoa or gravitation does 

' Certain it is, that all post theories have re- 
solved, and all existing theories do resolve, 
the actions of these forces into motion. 
Whether it be that, on account of our familia- 
rity with motion, we refer other affections to 
it, as to a language which is most cosily con- 
strued, and most capable of eiplaining them; 
whether it be that it is in reality the only 
mode in which our minds, as contradistin- 
guished from our senses, are able to conceive 
material agencies ; certain it is that since the 
period at which the mystic notions of spiri- 
tual or supernatural powers were applied to 
account forphysical phenomena, all hypothes- 
esframed to explain them have resolved them 

into motion Nor, if we except terms 

derived from our own sensations, .... can 
we find words to describe phenomena other 
than those expressive of matter and motion.' 
—(Pp. 352—255.) 

And in his address at Nottingham, in 1 866, 
OS President of the British Association, Mr. 
Grove s^d : — ' I believe the day is approach- 
ing when the two fundamental conceptions 
of matter and motion will be found aumcicnt 
to explain physical phenomena.' 

ITicre is one obvious objection to this 
view of physical energy — it fails to give any 
satisfactory representation of enei^ in its 
latent form. For if, when actual, enei^ 
Con»sts simply and solely of motion, wlien 
latent it is simplj and solely motion sus 
pended, which is nothing at all. In other 
words, it is destroyed, whicli the law of en- 
ei^y teaches that force cannot be. Inas- 
mucl) as when a certain amount of energy 
becomes latent, precisely that amount may 
be called into action again, after a shorter or 
longer interval, one must argue that latent 
enei^y cannot be a more negation. But if 
energy, when latent, is not simply motion 
suspended, energy, when active, cannot be 
umpty motion. And besides this objection, 
we can hardly help ftgarding the correlated 
movements of tlie universe as the effects of a 
common something called energy, however 
obscure our conception of its nature must 



be. Each of these views will have to be ex- 
amined in its I)earing upon the phenomena 

of consciousness. 

Coming now to the relation between the 
phenomena of consciousness and material 
processes, note that it is only in the nervous 
organisms of the higher animal.i that tlicy 
appear together, at ieast to us. The problem 
of their relation lies therefore williin the 
borders of those organisms, which, as we 
have seen, belong to the domain of the law 
of energy, like every other portion of the 
material universe which is linown to us. 

The nervous organism is a purely material 
structure, capable, like muscle or bone, of 
chemical analysis into the elemcntaiy sub- 
stances of which it is composed, and, as Iiaa 
been expluned, it is the seat of a strictly 
physical force. Like light, heat, electricity, 
and the other correlated forces, nervous en- 
ergy is derivable from the rest, and conver- 
tible into them. Its exertion depends on a 
certain condition of the ncr\'ouB tis.tue, is 
accompanied by molecular changes there, 
and followed by a definite amount of mate- 
rial waste. 

Suppose now that portion of the nervous 
organism called the retina ia exposed to the 
vibratory action we call light. At the point 
where the luminiferouH waves strike the 
nerve, there occurs a change in the character 
of the motion, regulated by the law of ener- 
gy. No cne:^ is lost, but a certain amount, 
which before operated as luminous vibra- 
tions, now operates as molecular movements 
of the nen'ous or^nism, which pass along 
the incarrying nerves to the brain, and the 
chain of movements is continued in molecu- 
lar reactions effected there. ITie course of 
these movements, though too intricate and 
delicate to be exactly traced, is a purely me- 
chanical problem. With superior faeultiej* 
and means of observation, every step in this 
series of changes might be rigorously de- 
duced on mechanical principles. 

But now a new element must be introduc- 
ed. When the vibratory impulse received 
by the retina is transmitted to the brain, a 
»ejuatii)n is experienced, which, by a mis- 
leading use of words, we are accustomed to 
call by the same name oa the iethcrcal waves 
which break upon the retina. The mthercal 
undulation is called liffhl, and so also iithc/eel- 
iitff, though no two things can be less alike than 
what we understand by an undulation and a 
feeling, and though the whole scries of 
movements in the nervous oi^anism intervene 
between the two. 

The facts now to be compared are the 
movements of the nervous organism and the 
accompanying sensation. They are con- 
nected in the most intimate manner. A sea 



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Mind and the SaUntx of- Energy. 



sation of light is never experienced apart 
from an act of nervons enei^y ; and there is 
reason to believe that the same is tnie not 
only of every other sensation, but also of eveiy 
purely mental process ; in a word, that each 
stale of consciousness is accompanied by a dis- 
tinct operation of nervous force. Dr. Tyn- 
dall writes : 

'I hardly imagine there exists a profound 
scientifle thinker, who has reflected upon the 
subject, unwilling to admit the extreme pro- 
bability of the hypothesis, that for every fact 
of consciousness, whether in the domain of 
sense, of thought, or of emotion, a deflnito 
molecular condition of motion or structure is 
set up in the brain.' — (Address on Scientific 
Materialism ; delivered to the British Associa- 
tion at Norwich.) 

On the following page of this addresst 
hbwever, Dr. Tyndall points out in the 
strongest language that a radical distinc- 
tion exists between these two closely connect- 
ed .8018 of facts ; tbose, namely, of 
force and 



'' 'The passage from the physics of the brain 
to the corresponding facts of consciousness is 
unthinkable. Qranted that a definite thought. 
and a definite molecular action in the brain 
occur simullaneously ; we do not possess the 
intellectual organ, nor apparently any rudi- 
ment of the organ, which would enable us to 
pass, by a process of reasoning, from the one 
to the other. They ap))ear together, but we 
do not know why. Were our minds and 
senses so expanded, strengthened, and illumi- 
nated, t» to enable us to see and feel the very 
molecules of the brain ; were wc capable of 
following all their motions, alt their group- 
ings, all their electric discharges, if such 
there be; and were we intimately acquainted 
with the corresponding states of thought and 
feeling, wo should be as far as ever from the 
solution of the problem, " How are these phy- 
sical processes connected with the facts of 
conecfousness i" The chasm between the two 
classes of phenomena would still remain intel- 
lectually impassable.' 

Professor Huxley endorses this opipion. 
In a paper entitled ' Mr. Darwin and his 
Critics' ('ContomporaryReviow,' Nov., 1871), 
he writes thus of the passage just quoted : 
— 'I know nothing whatever, ^and never 
hope to know anyUiing, of the steps by 
which the passage from molecular move- 
ment to states of consciousness is effected, 
and I entirely agree with the sftnsc of the 
passage . , from Dr. Tyndall.' 

In the same paper he writes; — ' As it is 
very necessary to keep up a clear dietinc- 
tlon between thcae two processes, let the 
one bo called nturoaia and the other ^«yeAo- 



The facts before us then are these : — The 



nen-ous ot^nisin is a material structure, and 
the scat of a strictly physical force, obeying 
the laws of energy. And certain of the ope- 
rations of that force are accompanied by 
acts of consciousness, but between the two 



Now we may either make here the" dis- 
tinction before mentioned between the mo- 
lecular movements of the organism, and the 
energy conceived of as' producing them, or, 
with Mr. Grove, we may diseard this occult 
enei^y, and recognise in the nerve changes 
nothing but the movements themselves. 
Suppose, first, that behind the movements is 
an underlying energy ; and then let us ask, 
in what relation to that enei^ do the psy- 
chical processes stand ? Arc Aty, as well as 
the molecular movements, products of that 
energy, and effected at its expense, or arc 
they not ? Let each supposition be followed 
U> its conse<]uenccs. Conceive, then, of 
force as an occult something, neither matter 
nor motion, but associated with matter, and 
producing motion, and capable of existing 
m a latent form, and capable of operating, 
both in the varied movements of the mate- 
rial universe and in the processes of thoiight- 
Since all physical changes are presented to 
us as varieties of movement, while thought 
— though on the present supposition a pro- 
duct of physical energy like them — is sepa- 
rated from them by ' a chasm intellectually 
impassable,' it follows that, on this view, 
thought is the single product of energy 
which is not motion. Observe the conse- 
quences which follow from this conceptinn 
that thought and phvsical changes are diffe- 
rent manifestations of a common force. 

The nervous organism, like every other 
living substance, undergoes material losses 
and repairs. With superior means of obser- 
vation, the complete series of these changes 
which separate nervous replenishment from 
nervous exhaustion might be traocd ; each 
change exactly pniportioned in nature and 
amount to the one wliich preceded it, and 
all consisting of ' the attractions, repulsions, 
motions, and co-ordination of the ultimate 
particles of matter.' 

But since, on the present supposition, 
thought is not itself a material change, the 
energy which produces thought cannot, at 
the same time, be producing material 
changes. Yet we now suppose thought to 
be one manifestation of the energy by which 
material changes are wrought. Therefore 
during the ant of thought, there must be a 
certain amonnt of energy withdrawn to per- 
form it, leaving so much less, for that pe- 
riod, to effect materia! changes. Could ob- 
servation be directed lo this point, the oo- 



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6S 



of the psychical process would re- 
veal itself in the temporary diminution, and 
subsequent rc^urapliwD, of the full amonnt 
of change going forward in the material 
Btnicture, producing an intemipUon in the 
scries of material changes such aa the moat 
perfect analysis of tbe physical process 
would fail to explun. Accrtsio material ante- 
cedent, or act of antecedents, would have ma- 
terial consequents deficient in number or 
vigour, because part at least of the energy em- 
ployed in them was gone to produce a psychi- 
cal consequent. And again those enfeebled 
material consequenta would be followed by 
consequents in excess aa to number or vigour, 
as soon as the energy withdrawn had been 
restored. All analogy is against the suppo- 
sition that such breaks occur in the CMins 
of material sequences. 

It may seem that since the energy of the 
nervous organism is known to exist at times 
in a latent f onn (that is, in a form which does 
not innnifest itself in material changes), it 
would be possible for it, while thus physi- 
cally in abeyance, to become operative as 
thought, and then pass on to reaume the 
production of material changes. But this is 
more than questionable, for la not the energy 
called latent employed in maintmning the 
chemical unions of the elaborate compounds 
which form the nervous organism ? If so, 
these compounds would fall to pieces on the 
withdrawal of energy from them to generate 
thought. To suppose that energy, when 
physically latent, is at liberty to do work 
which docs not consist of material changes 
such as it performs when physically opera- 
tive, would be equivalent to supposing that a 
weight in the hand which has potcnti^ ene^y 
to fall to the ground, might have that energy 
devoted for a time to other purposes without 
leaving any physical trace of these extra- 
physical operations ; bnt of course if any 
energy were so withdrawn, the pressure of 
the weight on the hand, and the muscular 
expenditure which that causes, would be 
dirainisbed in the same degree ; to suppose 
which is absurd. Moreover, nervous energy 
b expended by continuous thought 

Tltercforc, this view of tlio connection be- 
tween thought and the physics of the brain, 
tliat they are different forms of activity as- 
sumed by a common but inscrutable energy 
underlying both, seema inadmissible. For 
mncc it represents thought as a process dis- 
tinct from the material changes of which 
Uie nervous organism ia the seat, and yet as 
a process effected at the expense of the en- 
ergy which operates in them, it involves a 
break in the chain of physical antecedents 
and consequents everj- time a thought oc- 
curs, an objection which cannot but seem 



JUittd and t/ie Scimce of Mnergy. 



Jan. 

fatal to a disciple of natural science. It* is 
satisfactory to find this conclusion confirmed 
by Professor Bain, who writes, in his recent 
work on ' Mind and Body ' : — 

'It would be incompatible vrilh everything 
we know of the cerebral action to suppose 
that the physical chain ends abruptly in a 
pby^cal void, occupied by an immaterial sub- 
stance, which inimaterial aubatancc, after 
working alone, imparts its results to the other 
edge ol the physical break, and determines 
the active response — two shores of the mate- 
rial, with an intervening ocean of the imma- 
terial. There is, in fact, no rupture of ner- 
vous continuity.' — P. 131. 

But if, on these grounds, it is impossible, 
while maintaining the distinction octweei^ 
thoughts and movements, to regard the psy- 
chical processes as effected at the expense 
of the physical eneigy, like the molccnlar 
changes of the nervous organism, it follows, 
by the laws of energy, that all psychical pro- 
cesses lie outside the physical universe. 
For those processes, being distinct frOm 
molecular movements, and not being pro- 
ducts of the physical energy which effects 
them, tbe phvsical changes must follow one 
another precisely aa if no paychical fact had 
arisen. At some stage in the series of phy- 
sical nen-oiis changes a molecular movement 
is accompanied by a thought or feeling ; 
but the physicai energy concerned performs 
only physical work during, as well as before 
and after, the time when the feeling is ex- 
perienced. 

Considered chronologically, the psychical 
fact is a consequent of some physical antece- 
dent; but when we viewthat antecedent in its 
position as a link in a chain of physical sc- 
quents, the preceding argument compels us 
to believe that the physical antecedent is 
transformed, not into a psychical, but into a 
physical consequent, and this transformation 
must be wholly unofTccted by the generation 
of the psychical phenomenon. We ai-e 
brought, then, to this, that while the physi- 
cal force which operates in the ncn-ous or- 
ganism is governed by the law of energy aa 
strictly aa are the other forms of force from 
which it is derived, and into which it pass- 
es ; nevertheless, certain of its exertions are 
accompanied by psj^chical phenomena which 
arc at once closely related, and yet apparent- 
ly incommensurable with it. 

This correspondence between parallel but 
distinct trains of physical and psychical facts 
cnrioualy resembles the celebrated schenio 
of Pre-tslablisked harmony advocated by 
Leibnitz, and thus briefly described by Mr. 
Lewes :— 

'The human mind and the human bodyara 
two independent but corresponding machines. 



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187*. 

They are BO adjusted that the; are like two 
unconuccted clocka coDstmcted. so as that at 
the aame instant one should itrite the hour 
and the other point it.' (' History of Pliiloso- 
phy,' Art. ' Leibnitz.') 

The theory of Occasional canset suggest- 
ed by Dc8 Cartes to meet this Invincible 
difBculty, seems, ton, but an antique descrip- 
tion of this modem concluMoh ; — 

' The brain docs not act immcdiatel; and 
really upon the soul ; the soul has no direct 
cognizance of any modification of the brain; 
this is impossible. It is God HiuiBelf who, 
liy a law which Ho has established, when 
moTemcuts are determined in the brain, pro- 
duces analogous modifications in the con- 
scious mind. In like manner, suppose the 
mind has a volition to move the arm ; this 
volition is, of itself, inefficacious ; but God, 
in rirtue of the same low, causes the answer- 
ing motion in our limb. The body is not, 
therefore the real cause of the mental modifi- 
cations, nor the mind the real cause of the 
bodily movements. . . . The organic chon- 
ges, and the mental determinations, are no- 
thing but simple conditions, and not real 
causes; in short, they are occasions, or occa- 
sional causes.'.~(' Laromiguiere ; Lemons de 
Philosophic;' torn, ii., pp. 235-0. Translated 
and quoted by Sir W. Hamilton; 'Lectures 
on Metaphysics,' vol. i., pp. 801-3.) 

Dr. Tyndall. in the passage lately quoted 
from his address, advocates no positive the- 
ory to account for the difficulty in question, 
oathesc earlier writers do,— a wise abstinence, 
taught by the experience of two centuries; 
8nd yet his description of the facts, tJie lat- 
fest utterance of modem research, if it be re- 
garded OS accurate and adequate, seems al- 
most to land us ii) some strange theory like 

Some inferences also may fairly be drawn 
from Dr. Tyndall's statement. If the phy- 
sical changes of the nervous organism pro- 
ceed according to the law of the consen'a- 
llon of eneray, and psychical phenomena 
arise only on Uio occHrrencc of these changes, 
■and are distinct from them, it would seem 
that there can bo no direct connection be- 
tween successive thoughts and feelings, for 
those will be connected with each other only 
through tlie medium of intervening pbysicaj 
changes. So that however similar two (so- 
called) a.ssoeiated thoughts uiay be, one can- 
not suggest tlie other, since it is only their 
pliyaicalcounterparts which are linked togeth- 
er, and these determine the course of thought. 
One cannot but suppose, further, that the simi- 
larity of two thoughts will be in proportion 
to the similarity of their physical counter- 
parts; just as two similar sensations of red 
light are produced by luininifurous vibra- 
tions of the same length, though the scnsa- 



Mind and the Science of Energy. 



57 

tionn bear no resemblance whatever to the 
vibrations. Strictly speaking, similar lethe- 
real light-waves must produce similar mole- 
cular movements in tue nervous organism, 
and these lest excite similar scnsutions. 
Here, obviously, (he similar sensations of 
red Ught follow each other, not because of 
any direct connection between the sensations, 
hut because of the similarity of the antece- 
dent vibrations. ILthis be so, the ' associa- 
tion of ideas ' is resolved into the association 
of the physical equivalents of ideas, and our 
trains of thought and feeling are governed 
by the laws of matter and motion ; they de- 
pend upon the mechanical action of the phy- 
sical forces just as, in reading, the order of 
our ideas is determined by the arrangement 
of the ink on the paper. And if the chain 
on which the order of our ideas depends is 
physical, each paychical fact must be con- 
ceived as but a pendant to an antecedent 
physical fact, or set of facts ; thoughts and 
feelings must be like beads strung on a 
thread of physical sequences. The beads 
seem to form a chain, but in fact they have 
no direct connection with each other, but 
only with the thread. Or the physical se- 
quents may be represented by the small let- 
ters, a, b, c, kc, and the psychical accom- 
paniment of each physical fact by the cor- 
responding capital letter ; so that the psychi- 
cal train would run A, B, C, ha., and ita 
members be only indirectly related to each 
other. Important consequences follow hence, 
which cannot be considered here. 

Tlie two suppositions to which attention 
was invited have now been examined. The 
one, that the energy stored up in the brain 
is capable of producing cither niovements or 
thoughts, has been shown to be untenable, 
because jt would involve a break in the con- 
tinuity of the molecular changes there when- \ 
ever a thought occurs. Tlic other supposi- 
tion, which regards physical energy as con- ' 
fined to the production of physical effects, 
so far sets the facts of consciousness apart 
that they can never be included among phy- 
sical phenomena. The entire universe, as 
presented to us, is thereby separated into 
the two great groups of physical and psychi- 
cal phenomena, and it must forever remain ' 
to us so divided. Intimate as the relation \ 
is between the two, no encroachment is pos- 
sible by which a single fact of consciousness 
should ever be embraced among material 
facts. The most rudimentary sensation, ex- 
perienced by -the lowest animal to which ( 
psychical states can be supposed to belong, in 
separated by an impassabte gulf from the 
physical processes amid which it arises. 
The division is one of kind, and not of de- 
gree ; and therefore excludes such a nat cont 



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64 



Mind and the Science of Energy. 



aentuition from the class of physical facta as 
completely as the varied faculties and ac- 
quirements of a cultured human mind. 

The material universe is, on this view, a 
congeries of moving masses and vibrating 
molecules, without light or heat or sound, 
as these are known lo us; and it is only 
where organisms exhibit the extraphytteal 
manifestations of feeling and thought that 
the dark, cold, silent atotn-streams of matter 
reveal themselves as a radiant, colored, ardent, 
and vocal world, its multitudinous and sep- 
arate facts presented, as a whoU, only to 
thonght 

It is obvioDS that this exclusion of all psy- 
chical facta from the physical universe fol- 
lows equally, if— still malting the radical 
distinction betwen thoughts and movements 
— we accept the supposition of Mr. Grove, 
discard the notion of occult energy, and 
maintain that the physical universe consists 
only of matter anu its movementa. 

If so, the whole amount of change going 
forward in the nervous organism must con- 
sist of movements which, however diversified, 
arc movements still. There can be no point 
at which the quantity of movement is les- 
soned, because a portion of it has been con- 
verted into thought. The nervous organ- 
ism, as n purely physical structure, consists 
simply of matter in motion ; and whatever 
psychical processes accompany its move- 
ments, cannot in the slightest degree affect 
the scries of ne^ve^^hanges. Mr, Grove's 
way out of the difficulty is to suggest that 
'sensations themselves may be but modes 
of motion,' a supposition to be discussed af- 
terwards. 

On any tenable view, then, the radical 
distinction drawn by Professors Tyndall and 
Huxley between thoughts and movements, 
taken in connection with the law which for- 
bids the transformation of physical energy 
into anything which is not physical energy, 
actual or potential, places the facts of con- 
sciousness outside the chain of physical se- 
quences. But Professor Huxley sometimes 
employs expressions which represent psychi- 
cal and physical facts as equally, and in the 
same sense, products of physical change. 
For example : — 

' All vital action may be said to be the re- 
sult of the molecular forecs of the protoplasm 
which displays it. And it so, it must be true, 
in the same sense, and to the same extent, 
that the thoughts to which I am now giving 
utterance, and your thoughts regarding them, 
are the cxprcssiou of molecular changes in 
that matter of life which is tlio source of our 
other vital phenomena.' — (' On the Physical 
Basis of Lite,' ' Lay Sermons,' '&c.) 



Jan. 

' All vital action includes all the physical 
phenomena of life, and also all psychical phe- 
nomena ; in other words, all the material 
changefe of the vegetable and animal king- 
doms, and also all facts of consciousness ; it 
includea,therefore, the two setsof phenomena 
between which, as thev meet in the nervous 
oi^anism. Professor Huxley teaches ' it is 
very necessary to keep up a clear distino- 

No doubt psychical phenomena may be 

said to be the result of molecular changes in 
this sense, that they arise only, so far as our 
knowledge goes, as accompaniments of the 
physical phenomena of life ; but if the dis- 
tinction maintained elsewhere by Professor 
Huxley exists, tlioughts cannot be ' the ex- 
pressions of molecular changes,' ' in the tame 
sense and ,to the same extent ' as ' our other 
vital phenomena,' But if we describe 
thoughts as ' results ' of molecular changes, 
then we should say that ' our other vital phe- 
nomena,' namely, the physical processes of 
Hfe, are molecular changes. For molecular 
changes are another name for the physical 
phenomena of life, but are separated from 
psychical phenomena, us Professor Tj-ndall 
affirms, bv ' a chasm intellectually impassa- 
ble,' If, 'with Mr, Mill, we define ' the cause 
of a phenomenon to be the antecedent, or 
the concurrence of antecedents, on which it 
is invariably and unconditionally consequent' 
(' Logic,' vol. i. p, 372), ' or the whole of 
the contingencies of every description which, 
being realized, the consequent invariably fol- 
lows ' {' Lc^ic,' vol. i. p. 386), undoubtedly 
the physical antecedents of tlie act of thought 
are covered by this language ; they arc at 
least a part of its cause, or among its con- 
causes; but if we follow the course of the 
physical chain of which those antecedents 
are links, we shall, by the law of energy, 
find the entire amount of force operating in 
them pass into their physical consequents, 
exactly as if no ' result ' of thought had aris- 
en. Then how can thonght be said t-o lie 
the result of its physical antecedents ' in the ' 
same sense, and to the same extent ' as the 
physical consequenta into which the whole 
energ)- of those antecedents passes ? 

The following extract from Professor 
Huxley's paper on ' Mr, Darwin and his Cri- 
tics,' contributed to the ' Contemporary Re- 
view ' for November, 1871, is open to a simi- 
lar objection : — 

' As the electric force, the light waves, and 
the nerve-vibrations caused by the impact of 
the light waves on the retina are all expressions 
of the molecular changes which are taking place 
in the elements of tlio [electric] battery ; so 
consciousness is in the same sense an expres- 



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Mind and the Science of Energy. 



ion «f the molecular chnngps which take place 
1 that nerroiis matter which is the organ of 



Not, Biirely, ' in the same bcdbc ;' for the phy- 
sical changes generated by the electric bat- 
tery all consist of the motionB of matter ; 
but the psychical processes arising in the 
aervoiiB organism are, by disciples of Profes- 
sor Iluxley, to he clearly distinguished from 
the physical processes of which that mate- 
rial Btmcturo is the seat. In the aame paper 
we read ; — ' There is every reason to believe 
that consciousness is a fuoction of nervous 
matter, when that nervons matter has attain- 
ed a certain degree ot oi^nizatioi), jnst as 
we know the other actions to which the ner- 
vous system ministers, such as reflex action, 
and the like, to be.' But reflex action is of 
course movement, which, according to Pro- 
fessor Huxley, consciousness is not. 

In a lecture on Dcb Cartes, published by 
Professor Hnsley in ' Macmillan's Magazine ' 
for May, 1870, the words occur; — 'Thought 
is as much a function of matter as motion 
is.' This is asomewhat new statement of the 
problem, inconsisteDt with the opinion that 
thoosht is ' the expresuou of molecular 
changes* ' in the same sense,and to the same 
extent ' as 'our other vital phenomena;' for 
they are molecular changes; and thought, if 
another function of matter than motion, is 
at any rate not the same ; and besides, it 
seems scarcely accnrate to call thought a 
function of matter simply, distinct from mo- 
tion, since it arises only in connection with 
a particular mode of motion, namely, an act 
of nervous ener^. It is rather the function 
of a mode of motion ; that is to say, the f unc/ 
tion of a function. 

No doubt thought is thus far comparable 
with motion, that both are acts, and not «n- 
titiet. For when ao longer present to eon- 
scionsness a thought ceases to exist, as the 
motion of a falling stone ceases to exist (in 
that form) after it has reached the ground. 
The motion of the stone, however, as the law 
of energy teaches, is neither created, nor an- 
nihilated, but is derived from an indestruc- 
tible fund of force, and restored to it again. 
Is the enei^y of thought analogous, in this 
respect, to physical enei^y ? If it be, yet we 
have scon that the psychical enei^ cannot 
he exercised at the expense of the phijtieal, 
for the whole of that continues, on the view 
before us, to operate as motion actual or 
potential, which, on the present supposition, 
thought is not. Then must we suppose a 
distinct fund of psychical ene:^y, from which 
each thought is drawn, and into which it 
passes back, and a correspondence between 
the physical and psychical processes resem- 
bling the Pre-established Ilarmony 1 At any 



69 



rate, it is impossible to conceive thought to 
be a strictly isolated act, emerging out of no- ' 
thing, and vanishing utterly. 

But does it fit the facta to say, ' thought 
is as much a function of matter as motion 
is ) ' A function, as the word is employed 
here, is an operation or act. An act is 
change, and must consist, according to our 
powers of conception, of something which 
acts or changes. Thus motion is a function 
of matter, because it consists of matter acting 
or changing. But wben tlie act of thought 
takes place, the thought does not consist of 
matter acting or 1;hanging, for the change of 
matter accompanying thought is motion, and 
on the present supposition thought is not 
motion, but it is very necessary, according 
to Professor Huxley, to keep up a clear dis^ 
tinction between the two processes. Motion 
and change of matter a^e one and tlie same 
thing ; but thought and change of matter arc 
two very difierent things, if this distinction 
is maintained. Between the two classes of 
phenomena there is 'a chasm intellectualjy 
impasaable.' At least, therefore, motion aud 
thought stand in very different relations to 
matter. 

It may perhaps be maintained that though 
motion is tne only kind of change to which we 
conceive matter subject, it may undergo 
kinds of change of which we bave no concep- 
tion, and thought may be one of them. 
Doubtless, also, it may be no more extra- 
ordinary that a psychical fact should follow a 
physic^ fact, than that one physical fact 
should follow another. We cazinot discover 
any connection between canse and cfiect , 
other than that of invariable and uncondi- 
tional sequence, though we are equally un- 
able to deny that a further connection may 
exist Professor Huxley says truly ('Mr. 
Darwin and his Critics,' ' Contemporary Re- 
view,' for November, 1871): — ' I confess I 
can no more form any conception of what 
happens' (when the motion of one billiard 
ball is communicated to another) ' than of 
what takes ^ace when the motion of particles 
of my nervous matter gives rise to the state 
of consciousness I call pain.' 

But if we suppose that thought consista 
of some change of matter other than motion, 
of a change, therefore, which leaves the mat- 
ter (rliich experiences it physically nnafTecled 
by its occurrence, tlie same inadmissible al- 
ternatives arise; for the psychical energy of 
the act of thought is not, on the supposition, 
derived from the physical energy, which, 
when operative, consists only of motion ; 
either, then, each thought is au act proceed- 
ing from nothing, and returning to nothing, 
or else each must be drawn from a fund of 
psychical energy distinct from the pbysioal, 



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60 

iadiepensable as tbe operotioas of this last 
are to psychical manifestations. Moreover, 
since matter belongs, by all lis known cha- 
racteristics, to the pliysical system, it seems 
hardly legitimate to descnbe processes which 
do not affect the phy^cal system as cbanges 
of matter. 

To say then that two processes, which may 
be styled neurotis aiid pvt/ehoiU, are con- 
cerned in every act of thought, and that the 
process called neurosis belongs strictly to the 
physical universe, and is governed by the laws 
of energy, while that called psychosit lies 
outside the chains of pbysiiJbl sequences, is, 
to poinf out a distinction of great importance, 
but to proclaim tho insoluble difficulties 
of the relation between the processes inques- 
tjon, by bringing into prominence the two 
correspondent, but to us incommensurable, 
faces of each fact into which consciouaness 

It is obvious that these particular difficul- 
ties arise in consequence of the supposition 
that the physical and psychical processes con- 
cerned in thought are as essentially distinct 
as they seem. But itis possible to hold that 
the distinction between these processes is 
only apparent, and that the two are really 
one. This supposition remains to be ex- 
amined. 

'First, however, let us test by the light of 
the preceding discussion vopresentations such 
aa are often made of the relation between 
thought and the brain. For example, the 
following statements of the problem occur 
in a widely-circulated book by Dr. Bochner, 
entitled ' Kraft und Stoff,' of which there 
is an English translation, called ' Force 
and Matter.' Ur. Bochner disagrees with 
this expression of Vogt ; — ' Thought stands 
in the same relation to the brain as bile to 
the liver, or urine to the kidneys ;' iustly 
remarking that ' urine and bile are visible, 
tangible, and ponderable substances; they 
are, moreover, excretions of used-up mate- 
Then be describes his own view in those 
words : — 



' Thought, spirit, soal, are not niaterinl, not 
a substance, but tbe eflect of the conjoined ac- 
tion of many materials endowed with forces or 

qualities The steam engine is, fn a 

certain sense, endowed with life, and produces, 
aa the result ofa peculiar combination of force- 
endowed materials, a. united effect, which we 
use for our purposes, without, however, being 
able lo sec, smell, or touch the effect itselll 
The stenm expelled by the engine is a second- 
ary thing ; it has nothing to do with tlio object 
of the machine, and may be seen and fett as 
matter. Now, in the same manner as the steam 
engine produces motion, so does the organic 



Mind and the Science of Energy. 



Jan. 

complication of force-endowed materials produce 
in the animal body a sum of effects, so inter- 
woven as to become a unit, and is then by ua 
called spirit, soul, thought The sum of these 
effects is nothing material ; it cnn be perceived 
by our senses as little as any other simple force, 
such as magnetism, electricity, kz.. merely by 
its manifestations.' — ('Force ani^ Matter,' pp. 
135-0.) 

The effect of the action of the brain is liken- 
ed in this passage to the effect of the action 
of a steam engine. What help does this 
comparison afford ? The 6t«am-engine, like 
the brain, is said to produce, ' as the result of 
a peculiar combination' of force-endowed ma- 
terials,' a united effect which we are unable 
to see, smell, or touch. Dr. Bochner tells.us 
in the nest sentence but one that this effect 
is motion, which obviously is the only kind 
of effect obtained from the steam-engine (ex- 
cept the material waste). But though we 
must concede to Dr. Bilchuer that we can- 
not apprehend motion by tmdl, we certain- 
ly can do so by sight and by touch. And 
motion, as we have seen, is tho universal and 
characteristic function of matter, — the ener- 
gy which every material structure receives, 
and employs and imparts. The steam-en- 
gine in operation is a combination of mate- 
rials in motion, and motion is the natural and 
only effect which it prodnces. It draws en- 
ergy of motion from the boiling water, and 
yields exactly what it draws ; nor could any 
complication of its machinery make it yield 
anything else. 

Therefore it is simply worthless as anillna- 
tratioD of tbe action of the brain in thought ; 
for there tho very difficulty is, tliat though 
merely a material structure, like the steam- 
engine, the brain, and the brain only, pro- 
duces, besides movements, which are natural 
to such a structure, an effect which is not 
motion. This comparison, and that of tbe 
electric battery lately quoted from" Professor 
Huxley, and all comparisons to bodies 
which simply generate motion, miss tho 
very problem tney are employed to clear 
up. Tlie air of mystery which attaches to 
expressions like — ' the oiganic couiplication 
of force-endowed materials produces a sum 
of effects, so interwoven as to become a 
unit, and is then called spirit, soul, 
thought,' is simply misleading if it Is 
meant to suggest that out of a combination 
of materials and motions, if only it be ex- 
tremely intricate, something which is diffe- 
rent from either might naturally arise. 
Such expressions succeed in mystifying tbe 
i^orant ; but clear-sighted men must see 
that no mere multiplication of materials and 
movements can yield anything else but ma- 
terials and movements. Let the steam-en- 



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1874. 

gine bear witness, and the watcb, and ihe 
entire vegetable world, and tiie whole mate- 
rial universe, eKceptinji only the 
SfBtcms of animals wliicb are in question. 



Mind and the Scktice o/ Energy. 



So far 



1 the c 



r-.r 



a of thp. steara- 



engine poea, Dr. Bilchner employs motion 
only to illustrate thought ; but the last sen- 
tence of the cjuotation sut^ests an analogy be- 
tween thought and occult energies, like mag- 
Betjamand electricity; these two yiews resem- 
bling thftse which have been discussed. The 
last sentence, coloured by both views, involves 
some confusion of ideas. For in thefirst clause 
thought is described as itself an effect, or ma- 
nifestation, pro<luced by motions of matter. 
But ID the second clause it is described as 
BD occult force, perceptible only by its ma- 
nifestations, like electricity and magnetum ; 
and their roanifestationB are motions alone. 
That is to say, a division is implied between 
forces and theii mnnifeBtations, and in one 
clause thought is ranked as a manifestation, 
and in the other as an occult force. It is 
obvious that thought is an effect or manifes- 
tation, aud not the hidden cause of a mani- 
festation (whatever may be stud of spirit 
and soul) ; and on this account it is com- 
pared by Professor Huxley and by Dr. BUch- 
ner himself to motion, as being, like that, a 
function of matter. But if so, no help is 
gained from the reference to magneusm 
and electricity, vfhich, as tffeelt, are simply 
motions. 

The impossibility of finding any illustra- 
tion which affords a true parallel to thought 
is shown not only by Dr. Bflchner'a unsuc- 
eessfnl choice, first of the steam-engine, and 
then of electricity, but also by tlie following 
comparison, quoted with apparent approba- 
tion from Huschke, and placed by Dr. 
BOcbner as the heading of ono of his chap- 
ters : — ' There subsists the same relatioii be- 
tween thought and the electrical vibrations 
of the filaments of the brain as between 
colour and the vibration of ether.' — (Page 
135.) 

(Jf course there does, and for the obvious 
reason that colour is itself a fact of con- 
sciousness, that is, a feeling. The sensation 
of colunr is one of the psychical facts which 
constitute llio problem ; and could not have 
been adduced to throw light on this diffi- 
culty, as Dr. Bachner employs it (Huschke 
may have had a different intention), by any 
one who remembered what the difficulty was. 

The same chapter is beaded by a much 
more pertinent quotation from Molescbott, 
the explicit statement of the extreme fonn 
of mat«rialism : — ' Thought is a motion of 
matter.' — (Page 135.) 

It might be snpposed that Dr. Bachner 
intends to maintain this opinion, as he takes 



it for a motto ; hut his doing so seems only 
an example of the indefiniteness of the 
views held on this question ; since he pro- 
ceeds, not to establish the identity of 
thought and motion, bnt to state the view 
given above, and which may be described 
by an expression of Friedreich, which he 
endorses: — 'Mental function is a peculiar 
manifestation of vital power.' — (Page 125.) 
By using the steam-engine and the watch 
(Page 132), which generate only motion, as 
illustrations, it may seem that Dr. Bflchner 
views this ' peculiar manifestation ' as only 
motion ; but this cannot be, for after em- 
ploying them he protests that these compa- 
risons are ' not intended to prove anythmg 
beyond affording a slight hint as to the pos- 
sibility of the production of the soul from 
material combinations.' — (P^e 132.) It 
has been shown tliat for this purpose they 
are valueless. 

There remains the extreme view formerly 
mentioned, and just quoted as that of 
Molescbott, that ' thought is a motion of 
matter ; ' in other words, that the physical 
and psychical processes concerned in ' 
thonglit are really oue, though they seem 
(mo. 

By this, of course, it is not meant that 
matter in motion, at vm conceive it, is iden- 
tical with thought, ai we conceive it. Ob- 
viously the expression matter in motion de- 
scribes a set of phenomena which impress 
us as altogether different from the set de- 
scribed by the word thought ; aud which 
must continue to seem to us thus different, 
after we have affirmed their unity. Nor is 
it meant that thought is a compound, which, 
on being resolved into its elements, is found 
to consist of matter in motion, as water is a 
compound which conbists of oxygen and hy- 
drogen, substances having properties different 
from its own. That illustration, like others 
lately mentioned, would be beside the 
mark ; for the properties of water, though 
different from those of the elementary gases 
composing it, are the same in kind as theirs, 
being simply modes of change, that is, of 
motion, which, in certain conditions, water 
undergoes and produces. But if the physi- 
cal and psychical processes be regarded as 
idenlJcal, it is meant that certain movements 
of the nervous oi^nisms do, while they 
continue such, and without any additional 
element, themselves constitute the act we 
call thought. 

This form of materialism is manifestly 
free from the enormous, difficulties which 
encumber the supposition that two distinct 
processes are concerned in thought; but 
among the inferences it bears must be reck- 
oned this, that since all the forms of phyu- 



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Mind and the Science of Energy. 



Jan. 



cal energy are essentially alike, if thought is 
identical with one mode of motion, it must 
be essentially like every other. The sen- 
sation of light, for example, being, on the 
supposition now made, identical with certain 
movements of the optic nerve, must be es- 
sentially like the luminiferous vibrations of 
the fcther, the movements of a living cell, 
the fall of a atone, &c. In short, the radi- 
al diversity which seems to exist between 
all the forms of physical and psychical ener- 
gy disappears. To that conclusion tlie ex- 
treme form of materialism seems to lead. 

There is a suggestive coincidence between 
this resnit and that at which the idealist ar- 
rives. The idealist, examining onr relations 
to the external world, discovers that, univer- 
sid and irresistible as is the conviction of its 
existence, that conviction cannot be proved 
to be true. We attribute certain of our 
sensations to external phenomena as their 
causes ; but we can know only that of which 
we are directly conscious. We are con- 
scious only of feelings, using that word in 
tlie widest sense, and the external world we 
believe in does not consist of feelings. Sir 
W. Hamilton, indeed, maintains, with many 
philosophers, that ia external perception we 
arc directly conscious of something different 
from ourselves. Bnt even he allows that 
we can be directly conscious only of what is 
in actual contact with our nervous orga- 
nisms ; for example, that in sight we cannot 
be directly conscious of the sun, or of any 
object we see, but only of what touches the 
retina. And it is difficult to understand 
what can be meant by being directly con- 
scious of an external object, of a table, for 
instancQ, except that we have feelings of ex- 
tension, resistance, ifec, which we believe 
are produced by the table. And tben it is 
the feelings, and not the table, of which we 
are conscious. And no conclusive reason 
can be assigned for the belief that there is a 
table to cause the feelings. 

The law of energy supports the argument 
of the idealist here. For consciousness is 
seated in the nervous oi^nism alone ; 
whatever its nature be, its manifestations 
take place within the borders of that ot^a- 
nism, which is a material structure, and a 
vehicle of physical energy. If, then, con- 
aciousncss informs ns directly of any physi- 
cal facta, they can be those only of the ner- 
vous organism, or in immediate relation to 
it ; and they must consist of movements tak- 
ing place there al the time the feeling 
which reveals them to ns is experienced. 
For as Sir W. Ilamilton writes (Notes on 
Reid, p. 810): — ' Consciouaness is a know- 
ledge solely of what is now and here present 
to Uic mind.' Of physical changes antece- 



dent, by however short an interval, to the 
feeling which is supposed to be aware of 
them, we cannot possibly be immediately 
percipient. But physical changes occurring 
in the outer world are antecedent in time to 
any feeling which can reveal them ; for be- 
fore they can be felt the physical energy of 
which they consist must be converted into 
nervous force, and when so converted, it 
has, of course, ceased to exist in the form it 
wore previous to its conversion. Therefore 
the feeling which accompanies an act of 
nervous force, must always and necessarily 
be later in tjme than the external movement 
which generated the nervous change. 
Hence direct consciousness of aught outside 
the nervous organism seems impossible. 

And yet the physical changes occurring 
leithin that organism, the only ones which 
it is conceivable we might immediately per- 
ceive, because they are coexistent with con- 
sciousness in space and in time, arc never 
revealed to us as such. The feelings of ex- 
teuMon, &c., which, according to Sir W. 
Hamilton, we attribute to our organism, are 
psychical, not physical. We are not con- 
scious that we have a nervous organism at 
all. Since the physical changes ihere are 
not revealed to us, (i fortiori others, further 
removed in space and time, cannot be. 
Thus the exact opposite of what we might 
expect takes place ; the things of which we 
seem directly conscious, the outward ob- 
jects we say we see, touch, &c., it is demon- 
strably impossible that we should immedi- 
ately perceive, while we are entirely uncon- 
scious of those physical accompaniments of 
our sensations which seem to be the only 
physical facts accessible to us, if any bib. 

Jt is generally admitted, even by those 
who are not idealists, that the argument of 
idealism is incapable of direct refutation. 
Professor Uuxley writes: — 

' All our knowledge is a knowledge of states 
of consciousness. "Matter" and "force" are, 
so far as we can know, mere names for certain 
forms of consciousness, , . . It is an indis- 
putable truth that what we call the material 
world is only known to us under the forms of 
the ideal world ; and as Dos Cartes tells us. our 
knowledge of the soul is more intimate and cer- 
tain than our knowledge of the body.' — ('Lec- 
ture on Des Cartes ' : Mncnullan's Magazine for 
May, 1870.) 



Before i 
ferred to above between the conclua 
idealism and the extreme form of material- 
ism, it will be instructive to discuss the re- 
lation in which Professor Huxley understands 
his hypothetical materialism to stand to the 
'indisputable truth' on which idealism is 



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1874; 

based. In hU paper ' On the Phywcal Basis 

of Life ' (' Lay Sermons,' &c.) be writes :- 

' In itsdf it is of little moment whether 

express tbc phenomena of malter in terms of 

, spirit, or the phenomena of spirit in terms of 

' matter. Matter may be r^arded as a form of 
thought, thought may be regarded as a property 

'; of matter. Each statement has b certain rela- 
tive truth. But with a view to the progress of 
science, the materialistic phraseology is in every 
'"* way to bo preferred. ... It we find that 
the Bgccrtainment of the order of 

' cilitated by using one terminolc^y, or one set of 

1 symbols, rather than another, it is our clear 
duty to use the former, and no harm 

f so !ong as we bear in mind tliat we are dealing 

.- merelj' with terms and symbols.' 
" This view of materialistic phraseology, as 
simply a helpful means to the study of na- 
ture, similar — as the writer goes on to say — 
to the x's and y's with which the mathema- 
tician works Lis problems, but which he never 
confounds with real entities, would be unob- 
jectionable even to an idealist. 

At the same time exception may be taken 
to tbeeKpressions,' matter may beregardedaa 
a form of thought, thought may be regarded 
as a property of matter; each statement has 
a certain relative truth.' 

For it niigiit be inferred hence that ideal- 
ism and materialism are theories supported 
by similar kinds and degrees of evideuce. 
But it is not so. For in regarding malter as 
a form of thought, with the idealist, we re- 
gard it simply as it is presented to us, and 
make no supposition at all respecting it. 
That is an accurate account of ail we can 
know sbout matter, even though we may sus- 
pect that it is much more than that Ent 
when we say tkiyaght is a properly or func- 
tion of jnatler, we venture beyond our know- 
ledge into the region of assumptions. We 
assume that the hypothetical external cause 
of certain of our sensations is their true cause, 
that matter exists We assume that there is 
no corresponding internal cause of all our 
sensations, that mind does not exisL But 
the evidence for a psychical substratum of 
psychical phenomena is similar to that which 
points to a physical substratum of physical 
phenomena. It would seem that both should 
be admitted, or neither. But if both are ad- 
mitted, the proposition that thought is a 
function of natter falls to the ground. If, 
declining to make assumptions, we admit 
neither, we are left witb the other proposi- 
tion, that matter is a form of thought. 

Or the propositions in question may be 
compared thus : — The statement that thought 
is af unction of matter is inconsistent with the 
statement that matter is a form of thooght 
But this last assertion is a strict account of 
the fact as presented to ua. Therefore the 



Mind and the Science of Energy. 



former assertion is iDConsistent with a strict 
account of the fact as presented to us. 

If it be replied that the statement, thought 
is a function of matter, is regarded, not as 
absolutely true, but merely as helpful in in- 
terpreting nature, it may still be urged that 
even suppositions of this character should 
harmonize witb the natural facts with which 
they deal ; and that the supposition in ques- 
tion does not harmonize with this leading 
naturalfact, that material phenomena arc pre- 
sented to us only as phenomena of conscious- 
ness. This is not a metaphysical subtlety, 
which the student of nature may disregard, 
but a leading natural fact, which must have 
a prominent place in any consistent theory of 
nature. Therefore it seems unjustifiable to 
say of two incoDsistent propositions, one of 
which is based upon the facts before us, and 
the other on a supposition at variance with 
them, ' each statement has a certain relative 
truth.' If conjecture is permitted at all, it 
would seem that the suppositions ntade should 
preserve the prominence which unquestiona- 
bly belongs in the facts to the psycnical ele- 
ment, so far as our knowledge extends. At 
any rale the suppositions made should not 
reverse that prominence, and render the 
psychical facts, of which alone we are directly 
conscious, wholly dependent on the material 
facts, whose very existence is hypothetical. 
I'herefore the language of Professor Hux- 
ley, here and elsewhere, seems inconsistent 
with what he admits to be the indisputable 
natural fact taught by idealism, that our 
knowledge, even of the material world, is a 
knowledge of states of consciousness 

But a singular agreement, instead of any 
discrepancy, seems to exist between the con- 
clusion of idealism and that extreme materi- 
alism which absolutely identifies the physical 
and psychical processes concerned in thought 
For this identification abolishes the distinc- 
tion between the material and ideal worlds 
at their points of meeting, and proclsims, 
therefore, that the psychical objects of per- 
ception, instead of being in any sense copies 
of the physical objects to which they cor- 
respond, are the same things as those physi- 
cal objects. For example, the feelings on 
resistance and extension which the table 
excites when pressed, are, on this view, the 
Bune things as the physical changes which it 
produces on the nenrons oiganism ; in other 
words, we are conscious of the physical 
effects wronght on our nervous organism, for 
those phyucal effects are themselves our sen- 
sations 

Between this conclusion and the idealism 
of BishopBerkeley there is a close correspon- 
dence. He insisted that we can be conscious 
only of ideas ; and that they, the immediate 



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Mind and the Science of Energy. 



Jan. 



objects of perception, are the only objects of 
the existence of which we have evidence. 
The * matter" he repudiated was the occult 
something eiipposed t6 exist an a Bubstratum 
behind and distinct from our perception!. 
The idealist interlocutor in one of the dia- 
If^nes of Hylas and Philonns says : 

' I am not for changing tilings into ideas, 
but rather ideas into things ; since those 
immediate objects of perception, which, 
according to you, are only appearances of 
things, I take to be the real things them- 
selves.' 

And in his ' Principles of Human Enow- 
ledge,' Bishop Berkeley writes : — 

' I do not argue aj^nst the eiistence of any 
one thing that we can apprehend either by sen- 
sation or reflection. That the things I see wiih 
my eyes and touch with my hands do exist, 
realty exist, I make not the least question. The 
onl^ thin^ whose existence I deny is that 
which philosophers call matter, or corporeal 
substance.' 

It may be said that to mer^e, with Berke- 
ley, ail physical facts in psychical ones, is by no 
means the same proceeding as to identify the 
physical and psychical processes concerned in 
thought. But if these processes be identi- 
fied, physical and psychical phenomena can 
no longer retain their independence of each 
other. Instead of being two, they are one ; 
and there can be ao qnestion as to what cha- 
racter that one must bear. 

For the material world, certain of whose 
processes are thus declared to be tlie same 
things as perceptions, is confessedly known 
to US only as the hypothetical external cause 
of those perceptions ; and it is assumed to be 
such wmply because something different from 
our perceptions, and outside them, seems 
necessary to account for them. But there is 
no such necessity, if the material world and 
perceptions are found to be the same things 
wherever they meet ; and consequently tlie 
sole ground for supposing that an external 
world exists is, on the present hypothesis, 
taken away. Having merely assumed a dis. 
tinction between the worlds of matter and 
conscionsnes.'i, if we find that where the two 
meet they are not distinct, the obvious course 
is to abandon the assumption. To retain the 
distiiictioti between the two, and seek some 
hypothesis to identify them, when the neces- 
wty for supposiog that they are two no longer 
exists, is to remain burdened with a difficulty 
which has vanished. 

And it would be out of the qnestion to ef- 
fect this union by meiging the world pre- 
sented to us in consciousness in the material 
worid whose existence is only assumed. If 
one of the two must he renounced, obviously 
it is the hypothetical material world which 



nrust be surrendered, and then the conclnsion 
of the idealist is established. 

It may be suggested that the hopeless 
impossibility of the attempt to trace the steps 
by which the material processes of the ner- 
vous organism produce, or become stAtea of 
consciousness, arises from the fact, proclaimed 
by idealism, that our knowledge even of the 
material world is a knowledge of states of 
consciousness. For, of course, the material 
changes of the brain, like everything; else, are 
known to us only as states of consciousness. 
We cannot see our way oat from these states 
to the physical facts which we believe lie 
behind them ; and therefore it is that we can- 
not see our way back to consciousness from 
the physical facts. Having leaped a fathom- 
less gulf in crossing from consciousness to 
matter, we must traverse the same abyss in 
returning. If it were otherwise, — if the 
steps between the physics of the brain and 
sensation were maac plain to the physiolo- 
gist, these would be the very steps between 
consciousness and the external world of which 
the pajchologisl is in search ; and the ability 
to observe them would imply that the limit 
of consciousness had been passed, and that 
the material world was apprehended outside 
it, an achievement which the indisputable 
truth on which' idealism rests shows to be 
impossible. 

From the various alternatives now con- 
sidered let ns turn back to the important 
point from which they have been drawn, 
and which seems to present the latest judg- 
ment of science on the relation between 
mind and the nervous organism ; I mean 
that that oi^nisni is a material structure, 
receiving, employing, and parting with 
energy in strict accordance with physical 
laws, and jnst as if no facta of conscious- 
ness arose there. In other words, the psy- 
chical processes, closely as they correspond 
with the nerve-changes, are not links, like 
them, in the chains of phy»cal sequences. 
Wo have seen that the science of energy 
seems to require this conclusion, and that 
Professors Tyndall and Huxley (the latter, 
at least, in some passages) distinctly endorse 
it. It is affirmed also (as ascertained since 
this paper was written) by Mr. Buin, in his 
new book, entitled ' Mind and Body,' and 
by Mr. Herbert Spencer, in the- second edi- 
tion of his very remarkable work, 'The 
Principles of I'sychology.' His ailment is 
counncing, and besides confirming tlie above 
conclusion, shows that it may be reached by 
a different road. A few short extracts must 
suffice here. 

'Though accumulated observations and ex- 
periments have led us by a very indirect series 
of inferences to the belief that mind and ner- 



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vous action are Ihc Bubjcctive and ol^cctive 
laces of the same tbing, we remain utterly in- 
cipattte of seeing, and even of iraagiiiinE, how 
the tiro ore retnted. Mind still continues to us 
A something without any kinship to other 
thin^.'—(' Principles of PBycholoKTi' 2nd ed. 
vol. L sec B6.) 

' Let it further bo granted that all existence 
distinguished as subjective, is resolvable into 
units of consciousness similar in nature to 
those which wo iinow as nervous shocks ; 
each of which is the correlalivo of a rhythmical 
motion of a material unit, or group of such 
units. Can we then think of the subjective and 
objective activities as the same ? Can the oscil- 
lation of a molecule be represented in conscious- 
ness side by side with a nervous shock, and 
the two be recognised as one ? No effort en- 
ables us to assimilato them.' . . . And ' it 
might be shown that the conception of an oscil- 
lating molecule is built out of manj units of 
feeling -, and that to identify it with a nervous 
shock would be to idcnlify a whole congeries of 
units with a single unit.' — Ibid, sec 62. 

Mr. Spencer devotes several chaptera of 
this work to a disproof of Idealism, but he 
seems to concede the ailment on which 
idealism builds when he says : — 

'Were we compelled to choose between the 
alternatives of trant^lating mental piienomona 
into physical phenomena, or of translating phy- 
sical phenomena into mental phenomena, the 
latter alternative would seem the more accep- 
table of the two. Uind, as known to the pos- 
sessor of it, is a circumscribed a^regate of 
activities ; and the cohesion of these activities, 
one with another, throughout the aggregate, 
compels the postulation of a something of which 
they are the activities. , . . As, by the de- 
finition of them, external activities cannot be 
brought within tile aggregate of activities dis- 
tinguished as those of mind, they must for ever 
remain to him nothing more than the unknown 
correlatives of their effects on this a^regate ; 
and can bo thought of only in terms furnished 
by this aggregate. Ucnce. if be regards his 
conception of these activities lying beyond 
mind, as constituting knowledge of them, he is 
deluding himself; he is but representing these 
activities in tenus of mind, and can never do 
otherwise. Eventually he is obliged to admit 
that his ideas of Hatter and Uotion, merely 
symbolic of unknown realities, are complex 
states of consciousness built out of unita of 
feeling. But if^ alter admitting this, he persists 
in asking whether units of feeling are of the 
same nature as the units of force distinguished 
as external, or whether the units of force dis- 
tingubhed as external are of the same nature 
as units of feeling ; then the reply, still sub- 
stantially the same, is that we mtj go further 
towards conceiving units of external force to be 
identical with units of feeling, than we can 
toward conceiving units of foeling to be identi- 
cal with units of external force. . . . 

rou Lix. B — S 



Mind and the Science of Energy. 



'Ucnce though of the two it seems easier to 
translate so-called Matter into so-called Spirit, 
than to translate so-called Spirit into so-called 
Matter (which latter is, indeed, wholly impossi- 
ble) ; yet no translation can carry us beyond 
our symbols.'— Ibid. sec. S3. 

' The antithesis of subject and object, never 
to be transcended while consciousness lasts, 
renders impossible all knowledge of that ulti- 
mate reality in which subject and object are 
united.'— Ibid sec- 272. 

It is, indeed, still supposed by some that 
the mental processes, as distdnguished from 
the corresponding norre-changes, are per- 
formed at the expense of the physical 
energy of the nervous organism. For ex- 
ample, this seems to be Dr. Bastian's opin- 
ion, who says, in his work on ' The Begin- 
nings of Life ' : — ' 

' Whfn a muscle contracts, an amount of 
heat disappears which holds a definite relation 
to the amount of work done; and so it may 
well be that when the nerve-centre is in action 
— when fain» and pUaiura are felt, when 
thoughtt &T^ lik — this is possible only by rea- 
son of a disappearance or metamorphosis of a 
certain amount of potential energy which had 
previously been locked up in some of the 
organic constituents of the body. Wo cannot, 
however, prove that it is so, because we havo 
not yet been able to'show that there is evolved, 
during brain action, an amount of heat, or 
other mode of physical energy, less than there 
vould have been had the sensations not been 
felt and the thoughts thought.' — (Vol. I pp. 40, 
47.) 

It may be, liowever, that Dr. Bastiaa here 
refers to the physical counterparts of sen- 
sations and thoughts. The arguments al- 
ready urged against the view just mention- 
ed, and the high authorities quoted on the 
other side, seem to justify us in regarding a 
radical distinction between the psychical aod 
the correlative physical processes of the ner- 
vous organism as one of the recognised, or 
soon to bo recognised, positions of science. 
And surely, though the great problem is left 
unsolved, this is an important conclosioo, a 
real onward step in our knowledge ; for if 
fully established, it must finally clear away 
all the coarser theories of materialism enter- 
tained ID the past, and speculations on the 
connection between matter and mind must 
enter henceforward on a new phase. There 
will, indeed, still be scope for the widest 
diversity of opinion respecting the nature of 
mind, and its posnble independence cf 
matter ; bat a large class of materialistic 
inferences, which seemed to have some 
itific basis, but against which hnman 
nature boldly, and as it seems justly, pro- 
tested, seem shut out by evidence that the 
operations of thought cannot be classed 



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mg the other operations of tbc material 
rerec, and can be assimilated to them 
only if the material univeree be itself merg- 
ed in the states of consciousness through 
which alone it is presented to us. Such a 
conclusion relieves the fears forcibly express- 
ed in the following words of Professor 
Huxley, some of whose own langm^e, quot- 
ed above, qualifies the assertion of the first 
sentence : — 

' As surely as every future grows out of past 
tind present, so wil! the physiology of the 
future gmtluRlly extend the realm of matter 
and kw until it is co-extensive with know- 
ledge, with feeling, and with action. 

*'i'he consciousneesof this great truth weighs 
like a nTghtmarc^ I believe, upon many of the 
best minds of these days. They watcli what 
they conceive to be the progress of materintism, 
in such fear and powerless anger as a savage 
feels, when, during an eclipse, the giat sha- 
dow creeps over the face of the sun. The ad- 
vancing tide of matter threatens to drown their 
souls ; the tightening grasp of law impedes 
their freedom; they are alarmed lest inan's 
moral nature be debased by the increase of his 
wisdom.'— (' On the Pliysicai Basis of Life,' 
'.Lay Sermons,' &c.) 

Wherever tacts lead us we must follow ; 
but it is uvged that, unless the preceding ei- 
(iminatioa of them is wholly at fault, the 
more advanced and thorough -going theories 
of physical science ascribe to the facts of 
mind a unique and exceptional character, 
which excludes them from the realm of 
matter, with which, at present, they are 
mysteriously and inseparably associated. If 
so, physical science may be- destineiT to ex- 
tinguish the fears for the spiritual nature of 
man which its immature speculations arous- 
ed;, and those who are concerned for that 
nature may watch without tbe slightest 
alarm 'the advancing tide of matter.' 

The preceding ailments seem to justify 
the conclosion that he operations of th' ught 
can never bo ranked among the other opera- 
tions of the material universe ; but while 
that conclusion seems valid, and is surely 
important, it must be confessed that the 
notions we can at present form of the rcla- 
tioB between mind and matter are -not only 
very imperfect, but so manifestly disjointed 
and incongruous as to show that we have 
not yet found the direction in which the so- 
lution of the mystery lies, Tliat solution is 
Buro to be self-consistent, to accord with all 
the fuels concerned, and to illustrate the 
□nity which each real advance in our know- 
ledge of uflture confirms. 

At present nnitarian schemes seem either 
nntrnc to fact, as when thoaght is regarded 
as a property of matter, or at variance with 



beliefs which have aa good a warrant as we 
can show for anything — namely, that it is 
impossible to doubt them, as when the 
material world is merged in mind. While 
if, with Professors Tyndall and Huxley, and 
Mr. Herbert Spencer, we take the mQst 
honest course, and simply describe the facts 
which are presented to us, — that is to say, 
recognise parallel series of molecular move- 
ments, and states of consciousness, insepa- 
rable in fact, but refusing to be identified 
in thought, we come upon difficulties and 
incotsisteneies which prove how far we are 
at sea. For the notion of two parallel but 
independent series of facts timed to corre- 
spond, as in Leibnitx's ' Pra-established Har- 
mony,' satisfies nobody; and if, to use Mr. 
Herbert Spencer's favourite phrases, we call 
these ' Bvibjectivo and objective faces of the 
same fact,' and ' manifestations of an ulti- 
mate reality in which both are united,' we 
do but vary our difficulties. 

For in the first place, do not these stcil- 
fully-choseu phrases beguile us by hiding 
the invincible dilflculty under an ambiguity 
of expression t — ' subjective and objective 
faces of the same fact,' — what does it mean t 
If the two fates were found, on interpreta- 
tion, to amount to two facU, all our diffi- 
culties remain, and. it is a hindrance rather 
than a help to have them so skilfully veiled. 
While if, as is probable, Mr. Spencer were 
to insist in explanation on the tamenem, or 
oneneas, of the fact. Lis expression would 
resolve itself into the proposition just dis- 
cussed at length — 'thought is a mode of 
motion,' which, if the preceding argument 
holds, lands us in idealism. If the two- 
faced fact be really one, then the material 
and idea! worlds are identified at their points 
of meeting, and tbe hypothetical material 
element must give place to the ideal, of 
which we have actual experience. 

Again, it is only certain changes of the 
nervous organisms of tlie higher animals 
which present to us such a twofold, yet 
closely correspondent character, that instead 
of calling them objective facta and subjec- 
tive facts, it seems preferable to call them 
objective and subjective faces of the same 
fact ; to believe, that is, that their objective 
character is merelv one aspect of an inscru- 
table reality which has a very difierent and 
subjective side. But the nervous organism 
lain every sense a part of the material uni- 
verse, from which its expenditure of energy 
and waste of substance are continually being 
repaired. If, then, the objective character 
of certain of its phenomena is merely one 
aspect of an inscrutable reality which has a 
very different and subjective side, surely wo 
are botind to ascribe this doubleness, these 



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physical and psychical faces, to all the other 
phenomena of the material univeree. We 
caoDot continue to regard physical pheno- 
mena in general aa simply objective facta, if 
we deny that simply objective character to 
certain pheDomena strictly physical, and 
grant them only a physical face. If that is 
a tme descriptioD of facts of the nervous or- 
ganism, it must be a true description- of 
other facts of the material universe to which 
the nervous organism, aa a material structore, 
in every respect belongs. Its movements 
are exceptional indeed, if the;/ alone are not 
mere movements, but inscrutable acts which 
show motion only on one side. 

It may seem that all objective facts known 
to us only have subjective faces, since such 
facta are presented to us only in a subjective 
form — that is, as Btates of consciousness, but 
this happens because every external fact 
must impress the nervous organism before 
we apprehend it, and that apprehension ie 
the subjective face of a certain phy^cal con- 
dition of the nervous oi^nism alone. 

And, if psychical phenomena are only oc- 
casional accompaniments of modes of mo- 
tion, emerging in the nervous organisms and 
vanishing there, the old difficulty rises, from 
what source do they proceed t The move- 
ments of the nervous orgauisro cannot be in 
any respect out of proportion to the energy 
they use up, because part of it goes to give 
them a psychical face. But if not, then a 
series of acts, which before had but one as- 
pect, now has two, and 'aow again but one ; 
and yet the appearance of the transient 
aspect does not alur the series in its perma- 
nent aspect in the slightest degree. This 
difficulty of finding an independent origin 
for psychical phenomena disappears, if we 
Bupposo that the doubleness which leads us 
to describe them and their physical correla- 
tives as objective and subjective faces of the 
same fact is an essential characteristic, true of 
all physical facts if tme of one ; only then 
we must believe that the whole material 
universe has a psychical as well as a physical 
side. 

The situation, then, is this : the realistic 
conception of the physical universe represents 
it as spreading on every side immeasurably 
beyond the nervous organisms, within which 
alone we encounter, like islets in a boundless 
sea, the isolated phenomena of mind. These 
phenomena are not woven in with the physi- 
cal phenomena amid which they arise ; that 
is, tooughts do not come and go interchange- 
ably with modes of motion, as products of 
pliysical energy, and links in the chains of 
physical sequences. Nor can_we conceive 
of mental phenomena as groups of isolated 
facts, discontinuous with the physical chain, 



67 

and emerging and vanishing without ante- 
cedents or consequents. Such a conception 
of them is inadmissible, because it supposes 
a foree beginning and ending in nothing, 
and is at variance with the unity and con- 
tinuity of nature. It is less inadmissible to 
suppose a continuum of psychical facts cor- 
responding with the continuum to which all 
physical facta belong ', which agrees with the 
statement made above, that if we are led to 
conceive of mind and nervous action as sub- 
jective andobjective faces of the same thing, 
we ought to ascribe this twofold character to 
other modes of motion as well as to those of 
tlie nervous organism. This is equivalent to 
saying that what we call mind is co-exten- 
sive with what we call matter. 

It is impossible not to place side by side 
vrith this conclusion the fact formerly men- 
tioned, that we are unable to regard the 
motions of matter (which are all that the 
material universe presents to ns) as alone 
concerned in physical changes. We are 
compelled to postulate an enei^y behind 
them, working by law, guided by intelli- 
gence. Are psychical phenomena special 
manifestations of the unseen enc^y which 
we cannot help thinking indispensable to ev- 
ery physical change ! At least it is noticea- 
ble that while that sn^estion comes on na 
from one quarter, we should be led by ano- 
ther set of considerations to conjecture that 
what we call mind may be co-extensive 
with what we call matter. 



Art. YL—Hevinon of Ike Text of the New 
Teetamenl, 

(1.) TregelUe on the Printed Text of the 
Greek A'etc Testament, leith Remarks on 
its Sevieion upon Critical Principles. 
London : Samuel B^ter and Sons, 
,) Introductory Notice of the fret part of 
Dr. Tregelles' Greek New Tettamient. 

(3.) An Exact Transcript of the Codex Au- 
gieneis, <&c , with a Critical Introduction. 
By the Rev. F. H. ScaivuKBtt, M.A. 
Cambridge: Deighton,Bell, and Go. 

(4.) A Plain Introduction to the Criticism 
of the New Teatameat,/or the use of Bib- 
lical Students. By the Rev. F. H. 8ciu- 
VENBR, M.A. Cambridge : Doighton, 
Bell, and Co. 

(5.) Novum Testamentum Textus Stepha- 
nici, A.D. 1650. Actedunt Varite Lectio- 
nes, Editionum Bezae, Eheviri, Lackman- 
ni, Tischendorfii, Tregellesii. Curante F. 
n. ScRivKNKR, A.M. Editio auctior et 



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Revision of the Tdxt of the New Testament. 



Jan. 



emendatior. Caotabrigiai : Deighti 
BeH, etSoc. 1872. 

(6.) Novum Testamenlum Greece. Anli- 
guissimorum Codicum Terlws in Ordine 
Purallelo dispositi aecedit Collalio Codi- 
eh Sinaitiei. Edvardus H. IlAKasLL, 
S.T,B. OKonii, 1864. 

(1.) The Firit Twelve Chapters of the Gos- 
pel according to St. Matthew in ike Re- 
ceived Greek Text, with various Readinyi 
and Notes, Critical and Expository. By 
tlie late Rev. J, Fobsuall, M.A., F. 
London, 1864. 

(8.) The ImsI Twelve Verses of the Gospel 
according to St. Mark vindicated against 
recent Qrilteal Objectors, and established. 
By John W. Bproon, B.D. Oxford and 
London : Parfeer and Co. 1671. 

(9.) Outlines of Textual Criticism applied 
to the New Testament. By C. E. Ham- 
mond, M.A. Oxford ; ClMcndon Press 
Series. 

(10.) The Words of the New Testament as 
Altered by Transmission and Ascertained 
by Modem Criticism, For Popular Use. 
By Professors Milligan and Roberts. 

The lUt of works named by ua at the head 
of this article — and tiie list might easily 
have been extended — is at once a sufficient 
and a highly gratifying proof of that revived 
interest in the study of the text of the New 
Testament, by which England is at present 
marked. It is somewhat strange indeed 
that we should have to speak of ' revived ' 
interest io such a connection, for of all coun- 
tries in the world England was that in which 
it might have been expected that this inte- 
rest, at least, would never flag. Englishmen 
may be less metaphysical, and so less fitted 
for the high problems of dogmatic theology 
than the Germans. They may be les^s gifted 
with the genius of historical inquiry than the 
Frencit But it is no presumption to say 
that by tbeir liberal education, their wide 
culture, their strong common sense, and 
their practical piety, they are peculiarly fit 
ted to excel in the study of the Scripture 
test And they once not only excelled, but 
excelled pre-eminently until, as they have 
done in many another branch of learning, 
they allowed othera to appropriate the advan- 
tages which thev bad won, to make a more 
diligent use of taem, and to pass them in the 
race. There ia no denying the fact that the 
investigation of the great problems connect- 
ed with the text of the New Testament, for 
which far more had been done in this coun- 
try than elsewhere, seemed, after the days of 
Bentley, to forsake what might almost be 
regarded aa its own, and to take refnge on 
the Continent of Europe. Harsh, indeed in 



England, and Principal Campbell, of Maris- 

chal College, Aberdeen, in Scotland,— the 
latter, one whose memory has not yet ex- 
perienced the full measure of justice it de- 
serves, — still kept alive the sacred flame. 
But it did not kindle mnch enthusiasm in 
others — neither of them had mauy followers. 
Occasional good work was done in the de- 
partment, or in departments kindred to it. 
The Hebrew text of the Old Testament was 
studied, manuscripts were collated or pub- 
lished in facsimile, German treatises were 
translated ; but there was little general in- 
terest in the inquiries to which t!ie science 
of textual criticism leads ; and, at the close 
of rather more than a century from the days 
! of our noblest critical scho- 



will be a lasting monument to his name, had 
to say, in issuing the first part, in words than 
which we think hardly any more sad were 
ever penned, ' I now consign this first por- 
tion of my Greek New Testament to the 
hands of the feie [the italics are his own] 
who take sufficient interest in the matter to 
desire thus to receive it" 

What explanation may be given of the 
fact now stated it b difficult to say. There 
was no want of attractiveness in the study 
itself, for everyone who has in any degree 
devoted himself to it will acknowledge that 
it possesses an unequalled and irresistible 
charm ; that it presents problems demand- 
ing for their solution the widest range of ac- 
quirement, the acutest discernment of difle- 
rences, the calmest and most impartial judg- 
ment ; while, at the same time, it brings 
with it rewards that add to the pleasure of 
ordinary success the thought of being occu- 
pied with the very words in which the mind 
of God has been revealed to man. There 
was no want of memories coming down from 
past generations of a nature fitted to rouse the 
zeal and spirit of generations following. The 
memory of Mil! alone was an inheritance for 
ever ; and then there was the thought of the 
unhappy but brilliant Bentley finding refuge 
in these studies, as in no others, from bis 
troubles, and exclaiming with enthusiasm in 
the prospectus of his projected but, alas, un- 
accomplished work, that he * consecrates it 
Ktin^Xtov, a KTijfia iaae), a charier, a 
magna-cliarla to the whole Christian Church, 
to last when all the ancient MSS. here quot- 
' may be lost and extinguished.' There 

B no want of leisure and of means of stu- 
dy, of wealth and libraries, and college life 
with all the quickening influences that ought 



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I of the Text of the Neie Testament. 



speak ; for EJngUst people loved their Bible, 
and with tbeir strong views of the inspiration 
of the sacred ivriters, would have found it 
impossible to resist the appeal of critical 
Bcholars tliat, sinco they attached so much 
value to the words of Scripture, there were 
none on whom so imperative an obligatiou 
taj to ascertain what these words really were. 
Not with}> tan ding all this the study of the text 
of tie New Testament did not flourish in 
England. Our scholars fell into the back- 
ground ; Griesbach and Lachmann in Ger- 
many led the van. 

Within the last twenty years there has at 
length taken place among us that remarka- 
ble revival of the spirit of this study \o 
whifih allusion has been already made. On 
every eide the most gratifying indications of 
frceb interest in it are to be met ; and the 
names of Trcgelles, Scrivener, Weateott, and 
Lightfoot, who have all in one form or 
another given the results of their studies in 
the text of Scripture to the world, bid fair 
to regain that palm for us which, since 
Lachmann's days (for Tischendorf s honours 
have been won in another field), no one in 
Germany has risen to grasp. 

Tliere is still, indeed, a feeling in the 
minds of many that not much practical re- 
sult is to be expected from these studies, 
and tliat it may even be doubted whether 
the amount of gain will be eo great as to 
counterbalance what they fear will be the 
more general effect, an irreverent handling 
of the Word of God, and tho diffusion 
through the minds of the community of a 
certain amount of suspicion and hesitation 
regarding it. Strange to say, these opinions 
are expressed mainly by those who take the 
highest view of the inspiration of Scripture, 
and who bow with a more profound reve- 
rence than others to words which they be- 
lieve to have been immediately dictated by 
tho Spirit to the sacred penmen. Not that 
it is always so. Dr. Tregelles has given ex- 



ment, from which we have already quoted, 
he says : — 

' In the case of any common writer, we 
should gladly recur to the better and more 
ancient evidence ; and we should never think 
of adhering traditionally to that which we 
may well know to be precarious, or worse 
than doubtful. Surely, then, those who reve- 
rence Ood'a Holy Word must be responsible 
for usinff the same care, the same discrimina- 
tion witn regard to it, which they do in con- 
nection with other writings and works.'* 



' ' Greek New Testament.' Introdaction, p. 1. 



Yet even these words convey an inadequate 
impression of tlie relation of J)r. Tregelles to 
the point before ua ; for, if there be one 
thing more apparent than another in all that 
he has said and done, it is that the very 
profoundness of his reverence for Scripture, 
that the singular depth of his conviction 
that he was dealing with the ipsissima ver~ 
ha of the Spirit of God, lias at once impel- 
led him to his studies, and sustained him 
amidst many discouragements and trials 
connected with them. Others might also be 
named by whOm a similar spirit has been 
displayed, such as Pmfessors Wcstcott and 
Lightfoot. The same high motive has ac- 
tuated them, and been the spur to those la- 
bours by which they have done much to re- 
store to England her ancient prestige in the 
field of Biblical inquiry. 

Still, there is too much cause to acknow- 
ledge that the feeling to which we allude ie 
widely spread in the British churches, and 
especially among those who claim to be the 
purest representatives of Evangelical Chris- 
tianity. There is a want of interest in the 
study of the text, a magnifying of the diffi- 
culties to be overcome, an underrating of 
the confidence with which conclusions may 
be accepted, and, in the last resort, the as- 
sertion that we ought at least to wait, that the 
facts are, as yet, neither sufficiently collected 
nor classified, and that on so momentous n 
question the mind of the community ought 
not to be disturbed till we are more prepar- 
ed than we are now to give a final verdict. 
Wc entreat those who a;^e thus to pause 
for a moment and reflect how inconsistent 
with their general views such a position is. 
Surely, in exact proportion i to the degree in 
which we assign inspiration to the words of 
the evangelists and apostles, must he our 
sense of tlie importance of knowing exactly 
what these words were. Even although 
none of the more weighty expressions of the 
text were to be affected, who shall venture 
to say by what small changes its power and 
beauty as a whole may be either diminished 
or increased? In the great pictures of a 
master's hand the eye of the spectator may 
be chiefly won by the leading figures or ob- 
jects presented to Ins view ; yet even the 
most subordinate touches of the picture arc 
necessary to the fulness of impression pro- 
duced by it. Let one of them be changed, 
let one object in the grouping be displaced, 
or one small patch of colour DC substituted 
for another, and the whole cfTect will in- 
stantly be niarrcd. Let the original ar- 
rangement of colonr be restored, and, 
though unable perhaps to explain the i 



e sliall c< 



original conception. 



again under the spell of the 



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70 

' A friend called on Michael ADgelo, who 
was finiahing a statue. Some time afterwards 
ho called again ; the sculptor was atill at his 
work. His friend, looking at the figure, ex- 
claimed, " You have been idle since I last saw 
you." " By no means," replied the sculptor, 
" I have retouched this part, and polished 
that; I have softened this feature, and 
brought out this muscle ; I have given more 
expression to this lip, and more energy to 
this limb." " Well, well," said his friend, 
" but all these are trifles." " It may be so," 
replied Angelo, " but recollect that trifles 
make perfection, and that perfection is no 
trifle." ' 

Even, therefore, though it were the case 
that only amall matters were aflfected by the 
labours of the Biblical critic, the correct de- 
termination of these may be of unspeakable 
consequence to the general influence of the 
New Testament revelation. We cannot tell 
what may be the result. In waja that we 
cflinnot anticipate, it may be such as to tend 
new strength to the claims or a new charm 
to the beauty of Scripture. Of this much 
we arc sure, that every fragment that has 
been broken away, that every spot or stain 
that has been imprinted on it through Upse 
of time or human carelessness, has tended in 
some degree to make it less influential than 
it would otherwise have been. 

It is not enoiiirh, however, to speak thus. 
We must deny that the changes to be pro- 
duced on the text of the New Testament by 
sound and careful criticism are so trifling as 
they are often represented to be. Wc are 
quite aware of tlic language most frequently 
used upon this point, and do not dispute iU 
general accuracy. Bentlcy was not wrong 
when he said in his own terse and vigorous 



' The real text of the sacred writers is com- 
petently exact, indeed, even in the worst 
MSS. now extant ; nor is one article of faith 
or moral precept cither perverted or ]ost in 
them, choose as awkwardly as jou can, choose 
the worst by design out of the whole lump of 
readings.' 
And again : — 

' But even put your thirty thousand read- 
ings into the hands of a knave or a fool ; and 
yet with the most sinistrous and absurd 
choice he shall not extinguish the light of a 
single chapter, nor so (fis^ise Chnstianity 
but that every feature of it will still be the 

. The general tnith of the statement con- 
tained in these words, and often since re- 
peated in other forms, we at once admit. 
We admit that all the experience hitherto 



Jao. 



' gained points irresistibly to the conclusion, 
that in the great substance of her faith the 
Church has always been in the possession of 
her rightful inheritance, and that that inhe- 
ritance will be only the more assured to her 
the more the criticism of the Scripture text 
attains the perfection after which it is at 
present stni^Iing. Yet we are persuaded 
that this aspect of the case is often uninten- 
tionally exaggerated, and that an underesti- 
mate is formed of tlie amount of effect to be 
produced by the adoption of what we be- 
lieve to be true readings of the New Testa- 
ment instead of false ones now in use. The 
essence of our doctrinal theology may un- 
dei^ no change, but certain accidental dis- 
tinctions and determinations which have 
gathered in course of time around its lead- 
ing statements, and which have in no small 
degree increased the difficulty of rccciring 
them, may be materially modified. Even if 
doctrine bo not touched at all, there are not 
a few questions connected with our ecclesi- 
astical relations, our social condition, even 
with the religious experience of the private 
Christian, that have been complicated and 
darkened by false readings. Historical and 
critical inquiry, too, into the authenticity of 
the books of Scripture, has suffered from 
the same cause ; and while men have been 
searching for a solution of difficulties in 
considerations whose weakness often did 
more to confirm than remove them, the hint 
toward the true solution may sometimes be 
found in some reading that, after having 
been buried for centuries in unknown or un- 
coUated MSS., has only been recently 
brought to light. The best way to make 
good our statement, and before dealing in 
general remarks, is to give one or two ex- 
amples of what we mean. 

We select first of all a reading in Matt. v. 
32, a text bearing closely upon the impor- 
tant question of marriage and divorce. As 
we meet the words in the Textus Reeeplus 
we read, 'Whosoever shall put away his 
wife, TtapBitroe Xiynv TTupveiag ■nmei avrfiv 
fioixaaBat' and the only meaning that can 
be attached to them is, that whosoever pats 
away his wife for another cause than that of 
adultery on her part causes her to commit 
adultery, because, thus put away, she may 
marry another. It is at once obvious, we 
may I'cmark in passing, tliat the meaning 
thus gained is exposed to two fatal objec- 
tions, first that the woman put away may 
not marry a^ain, in which case it cannot be 
said that she commits adultery ; secondly, 
that our attention is directed to her as the 
guilty party, whereas it is our Lord's design 
to show that not she but the roan is guilty. 
This, however, is not the main point before 



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Revision oj the Text of thi Nae Tettament. 



1874. 

ua. It ia that, according to the Roman Ca- 
tholic view of tliis verso — a view shared, if 
wo arc not under a. false impression, by 
many Bnglinli divines — divorce is whoHy dis- 
allowcd. Even adultery docs not render it 
lawful to dissolve a marri^c. I[opvsia is un- 
derstood to mean not ur.cliastity after, but 
nncliastity before mariiagc, and the infe- 
rence is that divorce can only be allowed 
where the latter has existed, and when 
therefore no marriage can be properly Bwd 
to have taken place. The difficulty expe- 
rienced in meeting this is the use of the 
word iropveia, wliich might at first sight lead 
U3 to think of virginal, not marital inconti- 
nence, and which thus forma the great 
strength of the Romish a^nraent. Is there 
anything then tliat may show us tliat it is 
implied in the whole drift of the passive 
that the latter, not the former is meant ? We 
turn to the true reading, /luijl^ftidjjvai instead 
of ft4ii^aa0atf and we notice its effect. The 
whole meaning of the clause ia changed. It 
is not now that the woman put away com- 
mits adultery by marrying ' another,' so that 
the guilt ift transferred from her husband to 
her; but it is that the husband, by the very 
act of putting her away, has kimself acted as 
an adulterer, has committed a deed of adul- 
tery on the wife whom ho has divorced, has 
made her to suffer adultery at his hands. 
That such is the true sense of the passage is 
clear, not only from the word iioix^vd^vat, 
which must be translated as a passive, but 
from the pawllel verse in Mark x, 11, 
'Whosoever shall put away iiis wife and 
marry another,' finixaTai in' avTijv, tliat 
is, 'committeth adultery upon or against 
her,' the first wife, for that ovt^i" refers to 
her is clear from the following words which 
ought to read, Ka\ iav avT^ dnoXiaaaa 
K.T.k. It appears then tliat, according to 
the teaching of our Lord, especially in Matt. 
V. 33, tbe act of putting away a wife an<l 
adultery against her or upon her arc equiva- 
lent to one another. When a man puts 
away his wife, except for the cause men- 
tioned, it ia a testimony on his part that he 
is making his relatioji to her to be that of 
an adulterer; when he commits adultery 
i^nst ber it is putting her away. Both 
are ipso facto a breaking of the marriage 
bond. Tlic inference is obvious. Adul- 
tery by cither partner dissolves the marriage 
and is a justification of divorce. Only on 
tbe ground that adultery is a legitimate 
cause of divorce can it be said that a man 
who puts away his wife for any other cause 
is abrogating the marriage bond ae an adul- 
terer, and is as guilty as he. It is implied 
therefore in the passage before us, when the 
true reading is adopted, that iropveia docs 



not mean unchastity before, but unchastity 
after marrif^, The Roman Catholic inter- 
pretation ia false ; and the great doctrine is 
established that divorce is unjustifiable on 
any other ground than adultery, but Is jnsti- 
fiable on that. 

We take next another and a simpler case, 
bearing upon an altogelher different point, 
and yet hardly less valnable in its own way. 
The objection against the authenticity of the 
Gospel of St. John, drawn from the fact that 
'the Jews' are so often spoken of there as 
persons with whom the writer ha.i no con- 
nection, though, if his Gospel be autlientic, 
lie was himself a Jew, is familiar to every 
one. Here, it ia said in effect, is a method 
of speaking altogether unprecedented and 
unnatural; there is nothing like it in the 
earlier Gospels; it betrays at once the au- 
thor's Gentile birth ; no ' Jew could tliiis 
have separated liimself from liis people. 
We turn to Matt. vii. 29, where the evange- 
list, indisputably a Jew, remarks of Jesus at 
the close of the Sermon on the Mount, ' for 
Ue taugtit them as one having authority and 
not as the scribes,* Koi ovx ^ oi ypafifiareTf. 
But the true reading is sai ovx ^ '"■ yp"^ 
ftoTtii avTuv, ' and not as their scribes ' — 
the very method of expression that we find 
in the Gospel of St. John, but far more na- 
tural in it when we think either of its date 
or of the circumstances amidst which it woa 
penned. 

Our next example shall have reference to 
the Gospel of St. Mark, and, instead of giv- 
ing it in our own words, we shall give in the 
words of Mr. Burgon. But first let us no- 
tice that the common reading of Mark viL 
19 is, 'Whatsoever thing from without en- 
teretli into the man it cannot defile him ; 
because it cntcreth not into his heart, but 
into the belly, and goeth out into the 
draught, purging all meats, Kodapi'^uVTraVTa 
rd. (ipufUiTa.' l^e mcaninglessncss of this, 
to say notliing of the false translation of 
KaBapi^av, must at once be obvious to every 
one. A true translation of naOapi^aV, 
however, would only make the clauao 
still more meaningless. What says a 
faithful criticism of the text J Tliat th« 
trae reading is Ka&api^uv, and ' that expres- 
sion,' says hir, Uunron, ' does really seem to 
be no part of the Divine discourse, but tho 
evangelist's inspired comment ou the Sa- 
viour's words.' Our Saviour (he explains) 
by that discourse of Ilia— i^«o /aero — ^tnade 
ail meals clean.' How doubly striking a 
statement, when it is remembered that pro- 
bably Simon I'eter himself was the ttctnol 
author of it— the samo who, on the housetop 
at Joppn, had been shoM'n in a vision that 
' God had made clean ' (6 6sdt UaOdpiae) 



.dbyGoogle 



1i 



Hcai 



of the Text of tfte New TkHamenl. 



'a// HU creatures!'* Therein indeed con- 
sists the Bingular beauty of the reading 
naffapi^av, when wo look at it in connection 
with the universal tradition of the early 
Church that St. Mark was tlie ' interpreter' 
of St Peter. \Vc see the apoatle, in the 
light of all that had been revealed to him in 
his later life, looking back upon the words 
once fipoken by his Divine Master m regard 
to eating meats with unwashed hands. He 
had not understood them at the time. Now 
he understands them ; and, as he quotes the 
remarkable declaration that outward things 
cannot defile a man because they enter not 
into his heart, but into the belly, and go out 
into the draught, he adds, ' this He said 
making!; all meats clean.' We eannot for- 
bear adding, though foreign to our imme- 
diate purpose, that it is somewhat doubtful 
whether, in conformity with the principles 
of the rest of his work, Mr. Button is enti- 
tled to admit KaBapi^fiiv into the text. 

One other passage only would we notice, 
bnt that, one of great dogmatic value, John 
i. 18. The words of the received text are, 
'The only-hegott«n Son, which is in the 
bosom of the Father, He Uath declared Him,' 
But the true reading is most probably (lovo- 
y£vtji Gehe not 6 ftovoyev^s vtoj. Of the full ' 
effect of this reading upon the Christology 
of the New Testament it is imposaiblo as yet 
to speak, for the words must first be accept- 
ed, and must have time to work themselves 
into the consciousness of Christendom, he- 
fore we can say in what manner they will 
influence the Church's method of conceiving 
the doctrine of the Trinity, and the relations 
of the different persons of the Godhead. 
This much, however, is obvious, that on the 
one hand they constitnte the most striking 
testimony in the New Testament to the di- 
vinity of JesuH, and that on the other they 
render a certain modification in the sense of 
Behg necessary. In the absolute and highest 
sense of the word 0eo( cannot have ftovoye- 
vf)i predicated of it. It is not divinity 
therefore in its mMt absolute and remote 
sense, not divinity exactly as it exists in One 
who is the fountain-head of all existence, not 
a fleuTije covering in every particular pre- 
cisely the same field of thought when ap- 
plied to the Son as when applied to the 
Father, that is here attributed to Jesus. It 
is divinity rather as the necessary effiuencc 
of that Being to whom we give in its high- 
est sense the name of God. It is divinity 
as it is expressed in the words of the Nicene 
Creed, where the preposition Ik must be no- 
ticed as well as the words with which it is 
connected, 9tuv Ik Qtov, <l>iit ^« ^<Ji""ff, ^euv 

* ■ The Last Twelve Verses of St. Mark,' p. 179. 



iXffitviv iK $eov aXtfiLVov ysvvTieevTa. 
What the text does is to carry us hack to 
the thought of God as essentially expressing 
Himself in another, as doing this not so 
much by deliberate act as by the very na- 
ture of His own Ijeing, so that this other 
shall be justly described as ' the brightness 
of His glory and the express imago of His 
existence (wroffriaewe)' — Heb. i. 3 — co- 
etemal therefore with Himself, not created, 
essentially Divine, yet not so in every respect 
as Himself, because though not in order of 
time, yet in order of thought He is after 
Him. Furtlier, how mueh ought this read- 
ing to accomplish in bringing home to us 
the great truth so powerfully drawn out by 
Mr. Mutton in his very striking essay on the 
Incarnation, that God is in His own essence, 
and not merely in relation to us, what we 
endeavour to express by the word Father : 

'We are told by the incarnation something 
of God's absolute and essential nature, some- 
thing which does not merely describe what 
He is to ui, but what He is in Himself. If 
Christ is the Eternal Son of God, God is in 
deed and in essence a Father ; the social na- 
ture, the sprinff of love is of the very essence 
of the Eternal Being : the communication of 
His life, the reciprocation of His affection 
dates from beyond time — belong, in other 
words, to the very being ot God .... Be- 
fore all worlds He was essentially the Fatlier, 
essentially love, essentially something infinite- 
ly more than knowledge or power, essentially 
communicating and receiving a living affec- 
tion, essentially all that the heart can desire.'* 

How much, too, ought it to effect in the 
way of meeting some of the most remarka- 
ble Christological speculations of the Conti- 
nent, that the 'Sonship' of Christ begins 
with his manifestation in the flesh, and that 
the conception of this Sonship has nothing 
to do with the conception of the Logos in 
His eternal pre-existence. Finally, though 
speaking with much hesitation, and with a 
profound sense both of the difficulty of the 
subject, and ot the infinite value to the 
Church of the doctrine of the divinity of 
Jesus, we venture to sifggest that outof this 
one reading, when it lias taken thorough 
possession of the minds, and been worked 
into the logical apprehension of Christians, 
there may eonio a closer bond of thought 
between Trinitarians and that higher section 
of Unitarians who are often not far removed 
from them in the substance of their faith. 

These examples may sufiice for the pm- 
sent. We might have confined them to 
smaller matters, and the effect would hardly 
have been diminished, for such matters, if 
less important individually, gain importance 

* Hmton's' Essays,' i. pp. 219,231. 



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HevUion of the Text of the Nea Testament. 



ISM. 

by their iiamber, Tliey meet ns every- 
where ; nnd their combined value cannot be 
over-esliinated. No great doctrine may be 
involved in them ; bat, under the influence 
of correct readings, what fresbnesa, what 
vivacity, what undreamed of turns of 
thought appear to us ! The individuality of 
the writers, their naiiieti, their Bimplicity, 
their abruptness, their boldness, come out in 
a way that no one eould have anticipated. 
We are almost in another world. What 
Professor Jowett has said of sound princi- 
ples of interpretation is not less true of tho 
application of just criticism to the construc- 
tion of the text, 'The Bible will still remain 
unlike any other book ; its beauty will be 
freshly seen, as of a picture which is restor- 
ed after many ages to its original state ; it 
will create a new interest, and make for it- 
aelf a new kind of authority by the life 
which is in it.'* We add only one conside- 
ration more, hut that a consideration wliich, 
in judging of the point before us, ought to 
be distinctly borne in mind. These better 
readings will ho translated. Sooner or later 
they will be placed in the hands of the great 
mass of Cliristians. Tliun we shall see their 
power. Tliere is a vast difference between 
tho effect produced by a good reading being 
known to a few students in their closets, and 
its finding its sphere of instruction or quick- 
ening or comfort in the consciousnei-s of the 
Church at largo. Every day we have illus- 
tration of similar facts. A thought has 
been long slumbering in our minds. We 
have often dwelt upon it, and it has led to 
nothing. We see it at last find public ex- 
pression from some other source. From 
that moment it is another thought to us. It 
does not slumber now. It has an cmphaBis, 
a vitality, a power which it had not before. 
The lialf extinguished taper that, slipped 
alone into the taper-vase, dies, when slipped 
in among a number of other tapers kindles 
the whole into a flame. So also in the case 
before 'us. It is no argument against the 
reasonableness of expecting great results 
from new and better readings of the New 
Testament text that these readings, though 
long known to scholars, have produced little 
effect Let them be taken into, and offered 
to the world in, the published text; above 
All, let them be translated into the English 
Bible, and their power will immediately be 
felt as it has not been before. The deter- 
mination of the text of Scripture, in short, 
instead of being a trifling thing, is precisely 
that part of Biblical study which promises 
to be most rich in fruit. 

If what has now been said bo true, it bc- 

* ' Eaaaja and Reviews,' p. 37S. 



13 



comes all the more impoi-tant to see that the 
principles upon which we proceed in fixing 
the text be sound ; so that, on the one hand, 
no change may be made with undue haste; 
and, on the other, none be refused that is 
borne witness to by competent evidence. 
Two schools of criticism here offer them- 
selves to our choice, and practically there 
are only two. They are represented, and 
that with a keenness of which we shall say 
no more than that it is proportional to the 
interest and importance of the subject, by 
several of the authors named at tho head of 
this article, and especially by Br. Tregellea 
and Dr. Scrivener. Our space will hardly 
permit us to go at length into the argument 
between tbese critics, to say nothing of the 
fact that the effort to do so would lead us 
away from the aim that we have immediate- 
ly in view. It will be well, however, to state 
theirrespcctive positions, and to dfl so aamuch 
as posfifile in their own words. We shall 
then consider a little more fully tho princi- 
ples laid down by Dr. Scrivener, because ho 
may be regarded as the ablest exponent of 
views held widely in this country ; because, 
in several works ranging over a considerable 
period, he has reiterated his conclusions with 
much confldence ; and because he has lately 
found a spirit of championship in Mr. Bur- 
gon, that shows how far such studies arc 
from being necessarily only dialectical and 

Amidst the immense mass of MSS. known 
to us, the first and most important duty of 
tho critic is to determine which are most 
worthy of reliance. Tregolles' principle 
then is, to apply external testa to the dot«r- 
mination of the point He sees that wo 
have in our hands versions of the Now Tcb- 
tament made at a period long anterior to. 
that of our existing MSS., as also citations 
from the New Testament in writings of the 



* It is impossible for us to name Dr. Scrivener, 
sad that especiallj'' at a time when we are about 
to obJMt to principles strenuously advocated bj 
him, wlcliont eipresdngr our hl^h admiration of 
tlie services be baa rendered lo the Clinrch of 
Cliriat In ilie department of Biblical criticism. 
For a long series of jeara lie lias laboured in this 
causa wltli a ditigence, a faith fulness, and a con- 
Bcientlousness worthy of It. Tlie works given 
bj Lim to the world, the product of the most ex- 
tenpivo study, are models of what the critical 
student of Scripture liaa to do. That one whose 
services are so valuable in a department too 
rarely puraued should be left bnrdened with the 
carea of a remote parish in Corawal), Instead of 
being placed in some sphere where ha would 
havo complete leisure for wliat he has chosen as 
his life-work, aeems to us a reflection Dpon those 
difcnitaries and patrons of the Bngtisli Church 
wboHregenentlytltougbt to have regard, in the 
distribution of their eitenslve patronage, to 
theolo^cal attaiumeuc. 



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Revmon of the Tact of tfie New lestament. 



74 

Fathers that have como down to us from the 
oame early age. No doubt, even here, an 
element of uncertainly has to be contended 
with. The text of voraions and of citationH 
haj been atfcctcd by time as well as the text 
nf our New Testament codices themselves. 
Tlie editions of tlicm that have been pub- 
lished are frequently unciitical and incorrect. 
H'c may often bo as uncertain as to the 
readings they presented at the time when 
the MSS. contiuning tiiem appeared, as we 
are with regard to the readings that wc 
would deduce from our MSS. of the New 
Testament. Still, after making due allow- 
ance for these chances of error, a sufficient 
amount of certainty romtuns to enable us to 
decide with perfect confidence as to the 
manner in which a very large number of im- 
portant texts were read at a date much more 
remote thun that from which any MS. evi- 
dence has came down to us. these texts, 
thus determined, become with Dr. Tregelles' 
criteria of the value of a MS. Do its read- 
ings accord with them in the main ? It is a 
proof that that MS. possesses an ancient text, 
and tiiat it is entitled, bo far at least, to 
speak with authority upon thin point. Do 
Ihey not so accord ? Then tLere is at least 
no proof that its text is ancient, hut rather 
the contrary, and it is not entitled to speak 
in the same tones. Dr. Trugelles would fur- 
ther apply this mode of dealing to versions, 
comparing them with our oldest MSS. and 
with citations from the early Fathers, as also 
to citations from the early Fathers, compar- 
ing them with our oldest MSS. and with 
versions ; ' thus,' to use his own words, ' ob- 
taining a threefold cord of ctedible testimo- 
ny — not, be it remembered, that of witnesses 
arbitrarily assumed to be trustworthy, be- 
cause of real or supposed antiquity, but of 
those valued because their internal character 
has been vindicated on grounds of simple 
induction of fact.'* 

Such is the principle ; it is the result of 
applying it that is startling. It is found as 
a matter of fact that by far tho la^er num- 
ber of MSS. known, including nearly all the 
cursives, cannot stand the test, that a few 
MSS. alone can do so. After giving a num- 
ber of illustrations, Dr. Ti'egelles says : — 

'Tlicy all prove the same point— that in 
places in which the more rotunble ancient 
versions (or some of them) agree in a particu- 
lar reading, or in which such a reading has 
d'ftiact patristic authority, and the mass of 
MSS. stand in opposition to sucli a lection, 
there arc certain copies which Ikabituall; up- 
hold the older reading.'t 

• ■ History or tlie Printed Teit of the New 
Testa meat,' p- ISO. 
f Ibid. p. iia. 



Jan. 



The conclusion is obvious. These 'cer- 
tain copies,' altboneh few in number, are 
better witnesses to the state of the ancient 
text than the mass of MSS. exhibiting diffe- 
rent readings ; and combining with them 
now, but for another purpose, the versions 
and citations by which their value was prov- 
ed, it is impossible. Dr. Trcgcllns would 
urge, to resist the inference that they afford 
us the moat correct text of the New Testa- 

'The mass of recent MSS.,' he says, 'pos- 
sess no determining voice in a question 
what we should receive as genuine readings. 
We are able to take the fete documents whose 
evidence is proved to be trustworthy, and 
safely discard from present consideration the 
89-60thB, or whatever ehe their numerical 
proportion maj be.'* 

Or, in other words : — 

' Tho case would be more correctly stated 
if it were'cloimed that the uni'W testimony 
of versions, Fathers, and the oldest MSS. 
should be preferred to that of the moss of 
modem copies.'t . 

Dr. Scrivener agaiii starts with the as-wr- 
tion that the principles thus advocated by 
Tregelles arc tantamount to the shutting out 
of a largo portion of the evidence, a pro- 
cedure in itself always ohjoctlonable, but 
rendered e.tpccially so in the present caacby 
three considerations, to which he attaches 
great weight:— (1) That the value of our 
modern codices as independent witnesses is 
enhanced by the fact that it can be shown 
that they are not degenerate copies of our 
older MSS. (3) Tliat there is every proba- 
bility that these modem MSS. are copies of 
MSS, even older than the oldest that now 
sunive. (3) That the testimony of our an- 
cient codiccB is 



' In the ordinary concerns of sociariitc,' ho 
aofs, 'one would form no favourable estimate 
of the impartiRlity of a judge (and such surely 
is the real position of o critical editor) who 
deemed it safe to discard unheard eighty-nine 
witnesses out of ninety that are tendered to 
hira, unless indeed it were perfectly certain 
that the eighty-nine had no means of infor- 
mation except what they derived from the 
ninetieth; on that supposition, and on that 
supposition alone, could the judge's reputa- 
tion for wisdom or fairness be upheld. 'I 

Again :— 

' It has never, I think, been affirmed by any 

one (Dr. Tregelles would not be sorry to 
affirm it if he could with truth) that the mass 

* ' History of llio Printed Text of the New 
Tetlsment.'p. 138. 
f Ibid. p. 141. 
X iDlroductiun to ' Codex Augiensie,' p. ?. 



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1874. 



SevUioti (\f tfte Text of the Nho Testament. 



75 



of carsive documenta Are corrupt copies of the 

uncisla still extant ; the fact has scarcely been 
Boapected in a sii]);le inatancc, and certainly 
never proved. I will again avail myself of 
Davidson's words, not only because they ad- 
mirably exp/ess my meaning, but because his 
fnerai bias is not quite in favour of the views 
am advocating: — " CaterU parihti," lie 
observes, "the reading of an ancient copy is 
more likely to be authentic than that of a 
modem one. But the reading of a more mo- 
dern copy may be more ancient than the 
reading of an ancient one. A modem copy 
itself may have been derived not from an ei- 
tant one more ancient, but from one still 
more ancient no longer in existence. And 
tkit tea» probably the ea»e in not aj'ea in'tan- 
«*." No one can carefully examine the read- 
ings of cursive documents aa represented in 
any tolerable collation, without perceiving 
the high probability that Davidson's account 
of them is true. But it is not essential to our 
argument that the fact of their being derived 
from ancient sources now lost should be 
eitiMished, though internal evidence points 
strongly to their being so derived; it is 
enough that such an origin is possible to 
make it at once unreasonalile and unjust to 
shut them out from a " determining voice" 
(of course, jointly with others) on questions 
of doubtful reading.'* 

Again, after discussing some of the texts 
brought forward by Tregelles in support' of 
his propositions, ho goes on : — 

' Those who have followed me through this 
prolonged investigation will readily anticipate 
■ my reply to Dr. Tregelles' " statement of his 
case," comprehended in the following empha- 
tic words : " It is claimed that the ««»(«/ tes- 
timony of versions, Fathers, nnd the oldest 
M89. should be preferred to that of the mass 
of modern copies ; and further, that the cha- 
racter of the few ancient MSS. which agree 
with versions and Fathers must be such l/rom 
that ttry eircumUitacis) as to make their gene- 
ral evidence the more trustworthy." Un- 
questionably, I rejoin, your claim is reasona- 
ble, it is irresistible. If you show us all, or 
nearly all, the uncials you prize as deservedly 
maintaining a variation from the common 
text which is recommended by all the best 
versions and most ancient Fathers, depend 
upon it we will not urge sgainst such over- 
whelming testimony the mere number of the 
cursive copies, bo they ever so unanimous, on 
the other side.'t 

To a similar purport Dr. Scrivener speaks 
I his latest expression of opinion on tUia 



subject ;■ 



No living man possessed of a tincture of 
scholarship would dream of setting up testi- 
mony exclusively modem against tne '* unani- 
mous" voice of antiquity. The point on 



which we insist, and find it so difficult to im- 
press upon Dr. Tregelles and his allies, is 
briefly this — that the evidence of his "ancient 
authorities" is anything but unanimous; that 
they are perpetually at variance with each 
other, even if you limit the term "ancient" 
witbin the narrowest bounds.'* 

And once more— 

' We do not place the more modem wit- 
nesses in one scale, the olderin theotber,and 
then decide nvmero non pondere which shall 
prevail ; we advocate the use of the cursive 
copies principally, and indeed almost exclu- 
sively, where the ancient codices are nt vari- 
ance ; and if, in practice, this shall be found 
to amount to a perpetual appeal to the youn- 
ger witnesses, it is because, in nineteen cases 
out of twenty, the elder will not agree. 't 

From these passages the following princi- 
ples of the school, represented by Dr. Scriv- 
ener, may be gathered .■ — 

(1.) That the modem MSS. are in many 
particulars the representatives of an ancient 
text that has been handed down by them 
and by them alone, and that, therefore, they 
are to be constantly consulted. 

(2.) Tliat the propriety of an appeal to 
them is confinned by the fact that wc can- 
not examine them without seeing that they 
are not degenerate copies of our older MSS., 
but that they posscas an independent charac- 
ter, and are marked by features peculiar to 
themselves. 

(3.) That, notwithstanding this, ancient 
testimony to any reading is conclusive where 
it is unanimous, or nearly so; but, 

(4.) That such ancient testimony is never, 
or very rarely, unanimons, and that, when 
it is not, the mass of modem MSS. onght 
to be called in to give final decision. 

Tlic practical result of these principles is 
that in almost every case where we have a 
contested reading we shall have to follow the 
modern MSS. and that the text ultimately 
adopted by us will differ materially from the 
ancient text preserved, either in any ono 
ancient MS. or in all. We make one or 
two observations upon the whole question, 
without taking np the four principles above 
noticed in their order. 

I. — The position assigned on Dr. Scrive- 
ner's system to the cursives is one to which 
they have no rightful claim. It is at once 
conceded that they may, in many instances, 
preserve an ancient and true reading that, 
owing to one cause or another, has little 
or no evidence from the ancient MSS. them- 
selves. But the question immediately arises, 
how are wc to know when this occurs ? The 

" ' Introduction to the Criticism of the New 
Test.,' p. 398. 
f Ibid. p. 407. 



.dbyGoogle 



76 



Jteuision of t/te Text of the New TeHament. 



Jan. 



mere fact that the ancients ai'c divided, as 
we ehnll for the present suppose tliem to be, 
is no proof that tne reading presented by tlie 
moderns is entitled to our acceptance. It 
may be, bnt we must have evidence of some 
kind to assure us that it ia. Ttiat it has 
come down to us in a very largo number of 
the modems, does not by itself constitute 
such proof as vro require. It might do so 
could it be shown that these modems iiad, in 
all probability, handed down, each in its own 
independent way, a text once used in widely 
separated quarters of the world, wore they 
in other words not only independent of our 
ancients, but also independent of one another. 
It is notorious, however, that this is not the 
fact. Their close agreement in a vast num- 
ber of particulars is evidence that they must 
have had a common origin. On no other 
principle is it poasible to explain that unani- 
mity wliicU differs so greatly from the 
amount of divergence exhibited by their an- 
cient compeere. Those who advocate their 
claims nia&e much of the circumstance that, 
long before our oldest MSS. were written, 
the text of the New Testament was in a state 
of great confusion, and that this, and not 
alone the carelessness with which MSS. were 
written, a carelessness of which our oldest 
MSS. display numerous and indisputable 
marks, is the explanation of the divergence 
of the latter from one another. There is no 
doubt that they are right But how then is 
it to be explained that our modem MSS, ex- 
hibit not so much divergence as singular 
agreement ! If they all bore independent 
witness to ancient readings, they would also 
bear witness to the confusion that marked 
ancient times, and oat of which the varieties 
of the otbers arose. Why is it that they do 
not ? 'Hiere is only one answer to be given. 
They have sprung from a common source. 
Similar influences of one kind and another 
have made them what they are. They con- 
stitute a group. Even although, therefore, we 
allow that they may have been copied from an 
ancient text, of which every ancient represen- 
tative has been lost, even although tbey may 
be possBSjed of a higher character than that 
of being degenerate representatives of any 
of the older MSS, in our hands, it is yet ob- 
vious that, in reckoning up our authorities, 
they must be estimated as one. They are 
not the ' eighty-nine witnesses out of ninety" 
tendered to a judge by discarding whom the 
judge betrays his partiality, unless it he ' per- 
fectly certain that the eighty-nine hod no 
means of information, nxcept what they de- 
rived from the ninetieth.'* They are ratbcr, 



speaking generally, the ninety who have all 
been instructed by the same infomiant be- 
fore they appear in court. That they arc 
numerous adds in consequence no weight to 
their testimony. They are so evidently con- 
nected with one another tbat th6 thought of 
their number must be laid aside ; and laid 
aside not only, for that it must be so here is 
not denied, when they are in opposition to 
all our old authorities, but in respect to the 
readings considered in themselves that are 
presented by them, \fter we have separated 
fiom tbeir mass the few that we know to 
contain an ancient text, the rest can be re- 
garded, on the most favourable sup[losition, 
as no more than witnesses to another ancient, 
text contained in them alone. 

Let us allow then, for the sake of the ar 
gument, that tbey are so. The great body 
of the cursives now form a group testifying 
to a particular reading about which our old- 
est authorities are disagreed. Wo urge that 
their relation to this disagreement is entire- 
ly different from that asserted for them by 
tbeir defenders. They are only one autho- 
rity, not ancient in form, bet, by the suppo- 
sition, and as regards the reading in ijues- 
tion, ancient in substance. Viewed in the 
most favourable tight they can only take rank 
along with our ancients, occupy the same 
platform, .nnd be entitled to the same privi- 
leges as each of them. To regard them as 
a make-weight, that may be thrown into one 
of the scales of a balance held in equilibrium 
by our divided older MSS,, is to put them in 
an altogether singular and anomalous posi- 
ti on. And the anomaly is the greater when 
we consider that this equilibrium is not al- 
ways produced by the same old MSS, being 
in each of two scales. Onesucb MS, is now 
in one scale, now in another, k will be with 
B against A, C, D, when we are examining 
to-day. To-morrow tbeir relative position 
will be altered; A will have joined B, 
and K will be in the scale with C and D, 
Thus, in Luke vi. 1, M B and L omit ihc 
word devTEpoTrpuT<i>, while A, C, and D 
support it In the same verso A joins N* B 
and L in omitting the ruv httore tmnpifu^v, 
while C and D keep together, and along 
with K" retain the article. In both exam- 
ples, and looking at the older MSS. simply 
as old, there is a tolerably equal conflict of 
authorities, and the scales arc filled in each 
case pretty mnch by the same weights. 
When we pass to Uie seventh verso of the 
same chapter things are changed, k which 
had gone with B and L in tlic first verse, 
now opposes them by reading trapsT^povv 
instead of naperrjpiwvro, the reading of A, 
B, D, and L ; while in the same verse B also 
forsakes its old companions, and reads BBpo- 



.dbyGoogle 



Itevition of the Text of the Neto Testament. 



1874. 

miiau, M, A, D, and L reading OepoTrevfi. 
In the case of the last two readings, then, 
the weights in our scales are altered. Upon 
what reasonable gronnd Bhail it be mninlain- 
cd that the body of our cursive MSS. shall 
interpose in all these cases to turn the scales 
one way or another, and this, though the 
effect will be that they will decide against B 
in the first mentioned, with B in the last 
mentioned readings! 'Why shall they have 
a right to keep out of the confusion, to look 
down upon it from a serene liciglit, to wait 
till the perplexity, however different the 
causes that have produced it, is complete, 
and then to step in nnd decide the matter as 
they please ? They ought to have been in 
the contest. Whatever claims they may 
have they have no claim to be a I>eui tx 
>nacAiTui,'_thcmselvea free from the struggle 
of life, and only stooping from their throne 
to put an end to it with final and decisive 
voice. We might quite as well ask that this 
privilege should bo reserved for Ki or for B, 
Either of them might, with equal justice, be 
set aside for a time, and, when all our other 
authorities, moderns included, bad left uh 
ctjually balanced, be brought in to make the 
one scale heavier than the other. It is a 
misapprehension of the part to be acted by 
critical authorities when any one of them 
whatever has the permanent place of peace- 
maker assigned to it. Yet such is practical- 
ly the place given to the cursives by the 
school whose views we are engaged in com- 
bating. Nothing else can be meant by fluch 
words as these—' Where the oldest authori- 
ties really agree we accept their united tes- 
timony as practically conclusive ; ' our do- 
sign is 'to employ their (the cursives) con- 
fessedly secondary evidence in those num- 
berless instances where their elder brethren 
arc hopeles.sIy at variance.'* 

Not only, however, is a wrong place of 
apparent honour thus assigned to these 
UbS., they are deprived, as usually happens 
in such a case, of the real regard that may 
be due to them. Why should their evi- 
dence be called 'secondary ' as if it were al- 
ways and necessarily so! Why should any 
one not 'deem itsafe, except perhaps in very 
exceptional instances, to adopt as true a 
reading of the cursives, for which but slen- 
der ancient authority, or none, can be pro- 
duced ! 'f It is difficult to understand clear- 
ly what is meant by ' secondary evidence,' 
or why this particular evidence should be so 
called. If tlie cursives giva evidence at all 



* Scrivener. ' Introduction to the Critidsm of 
the New Test' p. 899. 
t Ibid. p. 407. 



77 

they must give it as primary evidence ; and 
surely the claim put forth on their behalf, 
tfaat they are independent witnesses to an 
ancient text, implies that their evidence is 
primary. Their friends too are well aware 
that even the most zealous defenders of tho 
ancients draws a distinction between some 
of the cursives and others, rejecting no 
doubt the greater number, but accepting a 
few as hardly less valuable than our oldest 
uncials. Is this distinction to be disallow- 
ed i Are these few to be cast back into the 
great mass from which they have been sepa- 
rated, and to be spoken of as only able to 
give ' secondary evidence ' ? What is allow- ' 
ed to these may, for aught we know in the 
first instance, he the just privilege of all, and 
to treat them therefore at once as 'seconda- 
ry ' is to them an injustice. Again, we fail 
to sec the principle upon which defenders 
of the cursives say that it is unsafe to accept 
a reading of theirs supported by 'slender 
ancient authority or none.' It is <]^uestiona- 
ble whether, before having submitted the 
cursives to a trial of which we have yet to 
speak, they have any right to say this. It 
often happens that, when we deal with the 
ancient MSS. alone, the verdict of a very 
slender minority is entitled to preference. 
Surely, if in such a case the mass of cursives 
can be thrown into the scale the argument 
is at least strengthened. But, whether it be 
so or not, why should this statement come 
from the quarter from which we find it 
coining 1 There it ought to be held that 
cursives, representing older MSS. that have 
perished, are always entitled to come for- 
ward and contest the ground with the older 
that survive. 

There seems to be a secret consciousness 
that tbey cannot do this. Hence the creat- 
ing for them of that unsatisfactory position 
into which they are put, that of arbitrating 
between contending parties. It is designed 
to do them honour when they are thus told 
that they shall have a casting vote in the 
case of a division, but it does not affect the 
end. The true honour is to allow them to 
give their voice while the arguments on 
either side are led, so that they may if pos- 
sible prevent that equality of division which 
it is always desirable to avoid. 

II.— The cursive MSS. upon this system 
escape a trial to which we are bound to sub- 
ject every MS., whether ancient or modern, 
before fixing the value to be assigned to iL 
There is an impression in the minds of many 
that the defenders of the ancient MSS. cling 
to them because they arc ancient, and it is 
nstonisbing how hard it seems to be to dissi- 
pate this illusion. Even Mr. Button yields 
to it. When, in his work on ' The Last Twelve 



>vGoogle 



Heviaion of C/ie Text of the A'cw Testament, 



Verecs of St, Msrk,' he imagines his 'unpre- 
judiced student ' weigliing the merils of Co- 
dices K and B, and being willing to suspend 
his judgment of condemnation, it is upon 
tbe ground that * tlie two oldest copies of 
the Gonpcls in existence are entitled to great 
reverence becaute of their high antiquity. 
They must be allowed a most patient, most 
unprejudiced, most respectful, nay, a moat 
indulgent hearing;' and then he adds, 'But 
when all this has been freely accorded, oti 
no intelligible principle can more be claimed 
for any two M8S. in the world,' as if more 
were asked ! Again, denouncing what he 
terms ' the co-ordinate primacy, claimed for 
Codex B and Codex m, he exclaims, 'The 
text of tlie sacred deposit is far too precious 
a thing to be sacrificed to an irrational, or 
at least a superstitious devotion to two MSS., 
simply because they may possibly be older by 
a hundred years than any other we possess.'* 
There cannot bo a greater mistake than the 
idea given utterance to in such words. Tiie 
value of these MSS. is not upheld because 
thcv are ancient, but because thcv are good. 
An5 what is a good MS. ? To answer, an 
ancient one and the more ancient the better, 
is so small a part of the reply that one may 
well hesitate before saying so at all. It is 
no doubt true that, looking only at the ordi- 
nary chances of corruption. It is likely that 
a MS. of the fourth century will have suffer- 
ed less than one of the tenth or eleventh. It 
is the product of fewer transcriptions, and 
wc may therefore infer that it has been ex- 
posed to fewer alterations. But we are met 
here by the fact formerly alluded to, that at 
a date older than the oldest of our MSS. the 
text was notoriously uncertain and'corrupt. 
Mere antiquity, therefore, does not necessa- 
rily make a good MS. It may have been 
copied from a bad one. It may have been 
carelessly copied. Something more than 
antiquity is necessary to make it good, and 
that is, that its readings be good. What arc 
good readings, again, can only be determin- 
ed by takinff into consideration partly the 
external evidence supplied by MSS., ver- 
sions, and citations, where that evidence is 
tolerably unanimous, and partly internal cri- 
teria, such as a good meaning, conformity to 
the general mode of expression adopted by 
the writer, accordance with his known style 
of thought, together with various others 
that force themselves upou the critic in the 
prosecution of his task. From these sour- 
ces combined we learn that in the earliest 
age of Christianity a particular number of 
texts were read in a particular way. We 



Jan. 

turn to our MSS., and ir they present these 
readings, and at the same time no positive 
evidence against themselves, they are good ; 
good, however, not because they may be an- 
cient, but because, taking into account all 
the varied evidence possessed by us, we Gnd 
that they meet the demands of that evidence, 
and by their correspondence with it establish 
their claim on our regard. Nor, let it be 
noted, are they only good for these particular 
texts, they are generally good. For surely 
it will not be denied that proved value in 
regard to a number of texts, and these cha- 
racteristic ones, is a fair test of the value of 
a MS. in general. Proved veracity in a wit- 
ness upon many points is a reason not only 
why we should beheve him upon these 
points, but why we should accept him as a 
generally credible witness. Let us refuse to 
acknowledge this principle, and an impor- 
tant law of evidence is overthrown. 

It cannot therefore be too strongly ui^ed 
upon those who look with suspicion upon 
the partiality shown by Dr. Tregelles, for 
example, to ancient MSS,, and who consi- 
der this an unreasonable one-sided n ess, that 
the preference rests in but an extremely 
small degree upon the fact that these MSS. 
are ancient. They happen to be so, but the 
reason why they are preferred is that, Ui the 
light of all the evidence possessed by us as 
to the Antenicone text of Scripture they 
make a nearer approach to the original text 
than is made by the most of those later than 
themselves. Accordingly, there are cursives, 
such as 1, 33, 69, that, because they stand 
nearly the same tests as these, are held to 
be of nearly equal value ; that is, three MSS. 
of the tenth, the eleventh, and the fourteenth 
centuries respectively are consulted with 
nearly the sairie confidence as those of the 
fourth and lifth. 

Things being so with regard to theoldest 
MSS., it will surely be allowed that the tests 
applied to them must in fairness be applied 
also to the modems. If age alone docs not 
make a good MS. neither does youth. Nor 
would even the fact of a hundred witnesses 
coming forward to prove a point save us 
from the necessity of investigating in each 
particular case'whether or not the witness 
be a good one. If we have reason to believe 
that the hundred are all good certainly 

eir evidence ought to be, and would by 

est men be held to be, conclusive on the 
point at issue. But this ' reason to be- 
lieve ' is what we must ask. Their gene- 
ral credibility must be tried by tests which 
every judge applies. If they stand the 
testa they have a just claim to be listen- 
ed to, If they do not, they must be 

gected, however numerous. Nor can the 



dovGoogle 



Seviaion of Ike Text of the New Testament ' 



18T4. 



admission of the fact that our modem MSS, 
are not bad copies of our present ancients, 
or that they may rcprrsent a MS. of an ear- 
. lier af;e better than any of tlie latter now 
existing, save them from the trial to wtich 
their more ancient brethren were exposed. 
They may, as compared with the old uncials, 
have individual eharaeter, they may repre- 
sent a parentage of remote antiquity, Theae 
things are possible. Bnt it is also possible 
that they may be copies of baa old uncials, 
that their own character, even though indivi- 
dual, may be had. We urge only that they 
must be tested. If they stand the t«3t, the 
mere fact of their being modem does not 
injure their value. It may be their misfor- 
tane that they were born in a late age, but 
it is not their fault. If they can establish 
their claims to be good, let them take their 
places as witnesses whose evidence may 
counterbalance that of any witnesses however 
old. If they cannot do bo let them be re- 
moved. 

I* Unless these principles be admitted, the 
whole science of which we speak becomes 
mere empiricism. We shall be driven about 
on a sea of uncertainties without either com- 
pass or rudder. A vf^iie internal sentiment 
as to what is right or what is wi'ong will, in 
innumerable instances, be our only guide, 
and we shall end in constracting a text 
which, however it may approve itself to our 



79 



feeling of what ought to be, will have the 
most tmst worthy evidence of antiijuity 
against it. Again, therefore, we must urge 
that before any modern MS. is available as 
an important authority in the formation of 
the New Testament text, it must be tested 
in exactly the same way as the older are. 
When the advocates of the cursives admit 
this, we shall acknowledge ourselves to be at 
one with them. They have not done it yet, 
and why they have not done it b not ex- 
plained. 

III. — The want of unanimity in our older 
MSS. is BO stated hy the school of which 
we speak, as to convey an e:caggerated and 
therefore false impression. That these MSS, 
do not keep continuously together is most 
certain, but that they are perpetually chang- 
ing about in such a way as to leave as totally 
uncertain what reading to adopt, and to ne- 
cessitate the bringing in of the mass of the 
cursives in order to render a decision pos- 
sible, is not a correct statement of the case. 
We take a chapter of the Gospels to test the 
accuracy of this statement, and we choose 
at random the seventeenth chapter of the 
Gospel of St. John. According to Scrive- 
ner's last edition of his Greek Testameiit, 
the following readings in that chapter are 
disputed. The evidence is from Tischen- 
dorf, and we select only what is necessary 






: purpose' ; 



7. 1, Omit or insert i before Iijooirc 


nB 




ACDL 


(curs.) 


„ iirapai OT Inf/pt 


kBC«DL 




AC 


(curs.) 


„ Omit or insert «ai 


t,BC»DL 




AC- 


(curs.) 


ifo or !va ma! 


l»ABC*D 




C'L 




Omit or insert aov 


„BC» 




A C D Gr. L 


(cura.') 


r. 3. jiv6<TK,^i,tv or -ovaiv 


sBC 


(curs.) 


ADL 




r. 4. TtAdwror or JrfA 


H ABCL 




D 


(curs.) 


r. G. tiuMt or deriuit^c 


kABD 




CL 


(curs.) 


„ „ai ifidl or «G|«oi 


rCDL 


(curs.) 


B 




„ Mu«af or 6^iuK<K 


kABDL 




C 


(curs.) 


Tcri^fJI'ar OT -aai\ 


BDL 




AC 


(curs.) 


V. 7. itiuKtK or Wuitaf 


rCDL 


(cnrs.) 


AB 






kBGL 




AD 




F. 8. Umos or diiuKai: 


ABCD 




rI' 


(cura.) 


Ins -rt or omit koI lyvuaav 


K'BCL 


(cars.) 


»'AD, 




t. 11. oiniT, or oiK In 


Evidence does not apply. 






ovToi or aiJToi 


C D Gr. L 


(cure.) 


mB 




„ *ajii or «aJ tyU 


(,BC»DL 




AC* 


(curs.) 


.. V or ovt 


itBCL 


(mofll cure.) 


D' 




„ KaSu! OT KoBiK >^<^ 


», A B' C D L 


(curs.) 


B» 




V. 13. Omit or insert fv t^ KSaft^ 


6, B C* D L 




AC 


(curs.) 


.. (.oroCr 


BC*L 




ACD 


(curs.) 


„ Insert or omit «oi before t^iaia 


rBCL 




A C D Gr. 


(curs.) 


V. 13. (aurmt or atroic 


»AB 




CDL 


(cura.) 


r. 16. oin tiai before or after e, r. it. 


((ABCDL 






(curs.) 


r. 17. Omit or insert aav 


[(• A B C* D 




«*C 


(curs.) 


r. 19. Insert or omit ;t-.1 

iati' l>efore or after ital atrol 


BCDL 


(cura.) 


kA 




[,ABC»DL 




C- 


(cars.) 


7. 20. nionrvovridt or marniaoi/mv 


«ABCD»Gr 


L (moat cure.) 


D- 






It ACL 


(curs.) 


BD 




„ ' Omit or insert iv 


BC-D 




tt ACL 


(cars.) 


„ oiai-™? or -in 


m'BC- 




K'AC'DL 


(curs.) 



awGoOgIc 



Eevision of the Text of the Nets Testament. 



T. 23. KuyH or «oi ky£» 


(tBC*D 


„ diSuK<K or ;Ja» 


ttBCL 


Omit or insert fu/Ktf 


(((•) B C* D L 


T. 83. Omit or insert Kal before two 


BC'DL 


V. 34. jTuffp or jroT^p 


kCDL 


.. ior«;r 


kBD 


„ JFcluior or Mu( 


kBCDL 


! „ il.-du.nf or f Aj« 


(Jacdl 


T. 25. v&Tcp or ;ra7*p 


»CD 



(o, 



AC 
■B.) AD 
K' AC- 



'S,) A B 



A ftlancc at this table will abow better 
than any mere nuinheriii*!: of times that cer- 
taiD MSS. arc found together, the correctness 
of our statement that the ancient MSS. arc 
not so hopelessly at variance after all. Yet 
it tDity be just worth noticing that the two 
codices, whoac supremacy the defenders of 
the cursives are chiefly desirous to over- 
throw, K and B, go together twenty-eight 
times, and oppose each other only eleven 
times out of thirty-nine ; that D opposes tt and 
B when combined only nine times ; t}iat L 
opposes the same combination nine times, 
and joins K and B, or B alone where k is not 
available for our purpose, nineteen times. 
Only in four various readings out of forty- 
one in all, in the first mentioned in verse 8, 



the sccoind in verse 21, the first in vcriie 24, 
and that of verse 25, does it seem that there 
would be the slightest reason to call in tho 
cursives, because the ancient evidence was 
pretty equally divided ; and it is somewhat 
cuiiouB to mark that in all the four they 
would decide with m against B. 

If the illustration thus afforded of the 
point before ua is not enough, we may take 
even the cases selected by Dr. Scrivener in 
the Introduction to his ' Codex Augiensis * 
to prove the opposite. In order, however, 
to form a proper judgment an to their efiect, 
it will be necessary to tabulat* tbem, and, 
inasmuch as we are speaking of MSS. alone, 
to note only the readings of the leading un- 



Iv. 12. Omit 
iv. 24 Omit o; 

X. 21. Omit o 

oraopbv 
lii. 4. Omit ( 

xii. 33. Omit < 



Insert raff oKoiov- 

insert Upa^ rdv 

r insert XiBo^oXij- 

c insert irav ava- 

„ xUi. 14. Omit or insert rd fiii8iv 
irni AoM^i. roC irpop^rov 

Such are Dr. Scrivener's examples ad- 
duced to illustrate, infer alia, the want of 
harmony among our ancient MSS., and the 
propriety therefore of making our appeal to 
the great mass of the cursives. We leave 
them, separated from the many other facts 
with which, for other purposes, they are as- 
sociated in bis pages, to make their own 
impression on our readers. If they have 
any acquaintance with MSS., they will cer- 
tainly ulow that the amount of harmony is 
far greater than could have been expected. 
Throngh almost the whole of the seven- 
teenth chapter of St John, and of these 
seven passages from St. Mark, the text can 
be easily determined without looking at the 
cursives. There is no such want of unani- 
mity as to make it necessary to call tbem in. 
If they are to be called in at all, and we 
fully fJlow that they ought to be so, it must 
be for a purpose totally different from that 
assigned them by their ablest defender. It 
must not be to decide a controversy among 
aocient authoriljes that cannot bo settled 



» B L C» vid. D 


AC 


■(curs.) 


i,BCL 


AD 


(curs.) 


«BCDL 


A 


(curs.) 


kBCD 


A 


(CUTS.) 


rBDL 


AC 


(curs.) 


[,BCDL 


A 


(curs.) 


mBDL 


A 


(cars.) 



without them — for here such a controversy 
scarcely exists — but to take their place as an 
independent group of witnesses, who shall 
prove as others do tfaeir claim to be heard, 
and shall then have their evidence weighed 
as a constituent part of the proceedings. 

In reality, however, this whole schemo of 
counting the number of ancient witnesses 
on either side of a disputed reading, and 
then bringing in the modem MSS. to decide 
the matter where there is disagreement, 
proceeds upon a false idea of the function 
of the Biblical critic. That function is not 
to count heads in opposing grouns. It is 
to inquire, as far as opportunity allows, into 
the history of each separate reading. He 
has a certain phenomenon before bim, and 
he has to account for it He baa not merely 
to say, M, B, D, and L read so and so ; A 
and C read otherwise ; four are better than 
two ; I decide for the former. He has, if 

eissible, to explain how the variety arose, 
e has to test the value of bis MSS., not 
only in general, but in reference to the par- 



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Jieoision of the Text of tlu New Tatament. 



i8;4. 

ticular part of tlie New Testament, a text 
of whicu be may be examiDiiifi;. He bns to 
weigK the evidence in the' liglit of many 
coDsiderationa applicable to each MS., even 
to each section of a MS., alone; and to 
find, as far as he can, tbe key of all existinir 
variations. That key ia the reading he will 
then adopt Hence it U that he will often 
follow three against four, two against five, 
or even Boraetimea one i^ainst aiz, a pro- 
ceeding that woald be totally illegitimate 
except upon SDch a wide basis of considera- 
tions as that now referred to, yet a proceed- 
ing that is of the very essence of ail intelli- 
gent criticism. 

IV, — Too much importance is attached, 
npon the sjstcn) we are examining, to the 
fact that the modem MSS. are not degene- 
rate descendants of our present uncials. 
Those who depend mainly on the latter are 
not bound to nhow that they are. There is 
indeed one thing that they ought to be 
able to show, not perfectly, because the beat 
text that can be formed is only an approxi- 
raatioD to the original text, but imperfectly 
and in measure, that tbe cursives are the 
degenerate descendants of the text finaliy 
adopted by them. If this teit be true they 
must be so ; and to show how they are so, 
to exhibit the process by which the degene- 
racy took place, to explain in what manner 
they have come to be what they are, is like 
the converse operation by which we test 
the correctness of an arithmetical account. 
In so far as we can show this we have a 
fresh proof that we are right, and it often 
can be shown. To return, for example, to 
the seventeenth chapter of St. John. In 
verec 1, the mass of cursives insert 6 before 
'Jijfl'iCsi owing to the constant tendency of 
scribes to completeness and definitencss of 
statement. ''E.TTo.pai etnev is changed into 
inifpE Koi elnev under the influence of the 
immediately preceding i^d^fjaev. The 
scribe has the one aorist in his mind, and he 
naturally follows it up with the other. In 
the same verse a *o! slips in easily after Iva, 
from the impression that the sentence ter- 
minated with oe, and for the purpose of 
making the second clause balance that going 
immediately before. Xuv agmn is added 
after vl6;, because in the preceding clause 
it is (Toll Tuv vlov of whom we read. In 
Terse 4, ireketbMSa is substituted for teAei- 
^aas, under tbe influence of the previous 
i66^aaa. Twice in verse 6, in verse 7, in 
verse 8, in verse 22, and twice iu verse 24, 
Idujcof is changed into Miuxas, because in 
verse 5, where the Father's giving to the 
Son is first mentioned, ^eduica is the form 
used, and that form naturally remains npon 
the mind of the scribe, while the impression 



of it is deepened each successive time he 
uses it. The substitution of iariv for Uatv, 
in verse 7, aud of ovg for ij in verse 11, 
though most cursives here give the latter 
reading, requires no remark. The change 
of order in verse 16 at once explains itself. 
The Ev, inserted before uotv in verse 21, is 
obviously a repetition of tbe iv undisputed 
in the first clause ; and in verse 20, the sub- 
stitution of marevaiivTuv for TttaTtv^vruv 
is so natural, that it is diflicult to sec how it 
could have been avoided. Remarks of a 
similar kind will apply to the passages for- 
merly selected from St Mark, and they 
ought more or less to apply to all passages 
where the reading recommended by the cur- 
tuves is different from that finally adopted by 
us. Wo have no interest therefore in show- 
ing that these cursives are bad copies of onr 
older MSS. It is admitted that they are 
not If we can establish that they are bad 
copies of the origitml text, and can g^ve a 
probable explanation of the mode of their 
decline from it, nothing more can be reason' 
ably required. 

Idstly, we must ask our readers seriously 
to consider what will be the cflect of putting 
the great mass of the later MSS. of the New 
Testament in the position claimed for them 
on the system we have been examining — 
that i?, not the position of independent wit- 
nesses, but of arbiters between what are 
spoken of as hopelessly divided ancients. 
We have shown indeed that these ancienta 
are not so hopelessly divided as is alleged. 
But that they are almost always to some 
extent divided is unquestionable. If, there- 
fore, we are in such cases to resort to the 
modems ax our guides out of otherwise hope- 
less difficulties, what will be the result ! The 
words of Dr. Scrivener, already quoted, are 
an instructive answer ; — ' We advocate the 
use of the cursive copies principally, and 
indeed almost cxciuaively, where the ancient 
codices are at variance; and if, in practice, 
this shall be found to amount to a perpetual 
appeal to the younger witnesses, it is because 
iu nineteen cases out of twenty the elder 
will not agree,'* That is, in nineteen cases 
out of twenty we shall have to follow the 
cursive text There is no exaggeration in 
such an expectation, if the principle that 
leads to it be once admitted. Ont of the 
forty-one cases that we have had before us 
from the Gospel of St John, there are but 
nine where the cursives read with our chief 
ancient witnesses or with a considerable pro- 
portion of them. In the seven eases from 
tbe Gospel of St. Mark there is not one. It 



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Mr, JBriffhl'a Return to t/ie MinUtri/. 



is always eo. Let the inqnirer take tbe 
troablo to go through the evidcncM for the 
differCDt readiD^ of one chapter in aay 
good critical edition of the New TeKtament, 
aod he will at oace satisfy himself of the 
fact. There is a certain atnount of division 
aniODg our ancient authorities. The cur- 
bives are ftenerally against the majority in 
number, still more against the majority in 
proved character and weight. Let ns follow 
them, and we shall certainly vindicate the 
Textut Reeeptug, bot we have no hesitation 
in saying that 'we shall lose innnioerable 
readings more important, more TOncrable, 
more divine. We sliall lone readings that, 
if wo know nnything at all npon the subject, 
we know to have been used in early times, 
before the corruption of the test became 
excessive, over the whole or nearly the whole 
Church of Christ We shall lose readings 
that can be shown, like those noticed in the 
early part of this paper not one of which 
would be left, to be of tbe highest value for 
our correct estimate of the word, and our 
proper nnderstanding of the will, of God. 
No doubt, upon the system that places its 
main dependence npon ancient MSS., we 
shall lose some valuable passages too, pas- 
sai;es that have wrought tneir way into the 
inmost heart of Christendom, taken the 
deepest hold of its convictions, been fruitful 
to it both of instruction and of comfort ; 
passages also that we would fain keep if we 
could because, though not strictly a part of 
God's revealed will, they perfectly harmonize 
with it On either side there is some loss, 
on either some gain; but how anyone who 
has studied the subject should not see that 
in the one case the loss immeasurably pre- 
ponderates over the gain, in the other the 
gain over the loss, we are wholly unable to 
discover. 



Art. VII. — Mr. Brighfi Return to the 
Minittry. 

The chief event of the quarter, in relation 
to home politics, is the return of Mr. Bright 
to public life. The bare rumour of such a 
probability proved powerful enough to sus- 
pend the disintegration of the Liberal party, 
and acted like a apell upon the bellicose 
intentions of the League, But the Tory 
press professed to regard it in quite another 
fight ' The Quaker was to be revived as 
an afterpiece.' As the time approached for 
Mr. Bright himself to speak; the curiosity 
n J ex^:?tation of the public became 
DtQnse. The silly season of journalists was 



JaD. 

at its height, and they made themselves 
especially busy with the event With a 
total foi^etfulness of the character of the 
man who?e career, past and future, they 
were diacusHing, they lectured, admonished, 
and finally extolled him to the skies. Ills 
moderation, his prudence, his sagacious 
statesmanship, were praised beforehand. 
They were snre that he would never lend 
himself to such and such views. Thoy felt 
certniu that he would say this, and confident 
that he woiild never say that His culo^ta 
appeareii to take for granted that whatever 
else he did he would efface himself. At 
last the immense meeting was held, and a 
system of telegraphy unparalleled in the his- 
tory of reporting was prepared to fiash the 
words of moderation and prudence to every 
part of the United Kingdom, When Mr. 
Bright spoke he was clear, direct, full of 
vigour and as Radical as ever. The grand 
echoes of his voice had scarcely died away 
before the whole tribe of counsellors and 
eulogists began to cnrse him to his face. 
Suddenly the discovery was -made by one of 
them that the consternation was unfounded, 
and that the speech had nothing in it after 
all. 

Let us see how far this is true. Mr. 
Bright had hardly been on his legs five min- 
utes before he administered a back-hander 
to the Establishment, and, as some people 
thought, to the l*reniier as well. The mem- 
ber for Birmingham had been present during 
the last debate on Mr. Miall's motion, and 
winced visibly when he heard Mr. Gladstone 
assert, in half-repentant tones, that thought 
was less free in Ireland than it had been 
before the Church was disestablished. 
There was a rush of exultation in the way 
in which Mr. Bright leapt back to this sub- 
ject after the enforced silence of four years. 
It was the uppermost topic in his mind, and 
the first upon his tongue. Speaking of the 
great principles which, during the last five 
years, bad been adopted and fixed irrevoca- 
bly in the policy and legislation of England 
by consent of Pariiamcnt and the acknow- 
ledged consent' of the country, he named 
first those which the Irish Church Act has 
established, viz., that the State has the right 
of appropriating to a laree extent the pro- 
perty of a political church, and of removing 
Its bishops from the House of Lords. 
With special reference, as it seems to us, to 
what fell from Mr. Gladstone, he added : 
' At this moment we see in Ireland a Protes- 
tant Episcopal Church in perfectly good 
health, and endeavouring honestly to free 
itself from certain errors and, as it thinks, 
superstitions, which it fancied it had b^en 
rid of three hundred years ago.' Of course 



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1874. 

tbc inference from all this is obvious. Mr. 
Bri^fht was speaking;, not merely bistorically, 
but with a direct reference to the future. 
We may be reminded, doubtless, that be 
abstoiDed from any expression of opioion as 
to whether or not the time has come for 
the application of these principles to the 
' politictti institution ' which exists in this 
country. But he abstained equally from 
an}' attempt to put the question aside, or to 
speak of its solution as visionary or imprac- 
ticable. Nor did he content himself with 
pointing out the importance and relevancy 
of the Irish precedent. He took care to 
indicate the side upon which the Church as 
a State Church is most vulnerable. He c&n- 
dcmned the sale of livings as an odious scan- 
dal, thus striking at the whole system of 
patronajre upon which the political Church 
la built In the course of the debate upon 
Mr. Hughes's motion for a Royal ConimiB- 
sion to inquire into the revenues of the 
Church, last July, facts were disclosed 
which it is not at all unlikely that Mr. Bright 
had in his mind when he addressed him- 
self to this subject It was shown on that 
occaiiion that probably no less than one-four- 
teenth of the whole saleable patronage of 
the Church is in the market at tliis moment; 
that during the year four parish churches 
bad been offered for sale in Liverpool alone ; 
that the advertisements which crowd the 
columns of ecclesiastical newspapers, and 
the lists of clerical agents to which they 
refer, describe this species of property 
with a minuteness of detail which leaves 
nothing to be desired except all mention 
of the sacred responsibilities of the pur- 
chaser ; aud that men of station, not only 
in the State but in the Qhurcb, are not 
ashamed to fling tbe cure of sonls as a thing 
to be scrambled for by spiritual speculators. 
Take for example the following items, 
which are extracted from actual advertise- 
ments : ■ Good society and no squire f 
'almost a sinecure, single service, and no 
school ; ' ■ net income £800, popniation 
1,740, duty only on every alternate Sun- 
day ; ' ' hunting, fishing, shooting, aad a 
rookery;' 'population 1,800, annual value 
jC1,800, incumbent (the advertiser) aged 
fifty-eight, but he is, it is believed, in a very 
bad state of health.' When items such as 
these are permitted constantly to meet the 

Eublio eye; when the Archdeacon of Sud- 
ury is found selling the advowson of Yal- 
ding, 'net income, say £l,9S0, incumbent 
seventy-two, price £13,000.' and the Earl of 
Shrewsbury, President of the Free and 
Open Church Association, remarks in pub- 
lic, that 'it is the duty of cborchmen to 
endeavour to leave Mr. Miall and his friends 



JVr. Briffhts Belurn to the Miniatry. 



no tangible ground for attacks upon the 
Church ;' and then offers the next presenta- 
tion of Burghfiutd, * with a capital rectory'' 
house, glebe, and titbe-rent charge amount- 
ing to about £1,120 per annum;* when 
Dodworth and Falmonth are put up at the 
auction mart both on the same A>sh-Wed- 
neaday with no more ceremony than a cellar 
of wines, what are we to think of a great 
spiritual community which cherishes Uiese 
abuses, and yet pretends to represent tbe 
religious feeling of the nation t ' Lay pat- 
ron^e,' exclwms Mr. Beresford Hope, ' has 
created a very desirable class of cteigymen, 
unique, so far as I am able to ascertain, 
among the Christian communities of the 
worid, who are at once men of the world 
and men of the Church ;' and thus following, 
he might have added, with an unique inter- 
val, the footsteps of the apostles whose suc- 
cessors they claim to be. There was a deli- 
cate irony in the exhortation which Mr. 
Bright addresAed to the Church. He trust- 
ed that ' the time would come when the 
members of that Church woald regard the 
purchase of livings in the light in which it 
is regarded by all persons outside and uncon- 
nected with that Church.' He omitted to 
mention what is to be done when thiit 
happy revulsion of feeling takes place. At 
present, however, we are far enough front 
anything of the kind. When Lord Chief 
Justice Coleridge was discussing the Bene- 
fices Bill, which was brought in by Mr. 
Cross, he r^retted — 

' That his 'professional experience did not 
permit him altc^ether to endorse the statement 
of the hon. member for Cambridge Universitj' 
with regard to the increased sense of reapODSl- 
bilitj existing among lay patrons. He was un- 
able to say that tbe sale oF benefices and the 
general ijnmorality of those concerned in dis- 
posing of them was diminishing, or their mo- 
rality increasing. Day by day cases came be- 
fore him which DC should have believed were 
fictitious had he not been obliged upon the evi- 
dence to believe them true.' 

Kor would the pasung of the Act for the 
sale of the Lord Chancellor's livings argue 
anv great sensitiveness of the public con- 
science in this respect The fact is, that 
the immemorial \tm^ of the Church has 
seared the public conscience, and lowered 
the whole national conception of religion. 
But let us suppose that tbe public conscience 
were not seared, and that tiie Church, were 
really anxious to free herself from this pro- 
digious disgrace, is there any one who can 
iuform us how thb is to be done I ^yhen 
you have disendowed the Chnrch in England, 
as you have disendowed her in Ireland, you 
will be in a position to satisfy the pecuniary 



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84 

claims of patroDs. fiut ontil you do this, 
you are powerless. Mr, Gladstone is once 
more Chancellor of the Exchequer, la be 
prepared lo ask the House to vote tea mil- 
lions sterling, in order that he may abolish 
' purchase in the Church ' 1 Church reform- 
era have taxed their ingenuity in vain in the 
hope of finding some means of escape from 
a practice which, aa Mr. Bright truly ob- 
serves, ' would not be tolerated in any other 
branch of the pablic service,' Their pro- 
posals are utterly futile. The Bishop of 
Exeter wishes to throw the burthen of the 
redemption of paironage upon the Ecclesi- 
astical Commissioners ; in other words, to sat- 
isfy the demands of rich patrons out of funds 
set apart mainly for the relief of poor dis- 
tricts. Mr. Hughes wishes to prohibit the 
sale of next presentations. What does he 
find in the history of patronage to justify 
the belief that such a prohibitory law would 
operate? What so easy as to sell the ad- 
vowson, witb a verbal agreement that it 
should be handed back or resold the mo- 
ment after the desired appointment had been 
made ! Shrewd Mr. IleDlcy scatters all such 
hopes to the winds. ' If A bad got some- 
thing to sell,' he says, ' and B wanted to buy 
it, the thing would somehow be passed from 
one man to another, in spite of any Act of 
Parliament of that kind.' The Church is in 
this unhappy position: her existence as a 
State Church is bound up with the exis- 
tence of a system which must perisli. The 
Siamese twins cannot be parted. The poison 
which flows from the diseased incorporate 
life is ultimately fatal, yet the knife kills. 

It is impossible that Mr. Brii^ht should 
address his constituents after the lapse of 
more than four years and make no mention 
of the ballot, of the abolition of purchase, 
of our great arbitration case with the United 
States, and of the ever-rising question of 
the county franchises. The vast body of 
working men before him would naturally 
expect, also, that he should advert to the at- 
tempts which have been made to cripple the 
freedom of labour in the interests of em- 
ployers, and they were not disappointed. 
He touched upon all these points in passing, 
and upon the extravagance of our public ex- 
penditure as well. Perhaps it would have 
been desirable if he had been a little more 
explicit and emphatic in dealing with the 
last. The country cannot foiget that in 
1869 he spoke of our expenditure in terms 
like these : — 

* Rely upon it, that so long as Parliament 
KtactH from tha iodustry of the people jC70.- 
OOO.OOO a ycir, there is no power on earth 
that cm raise your poor and suficring popula- 
tioo from its present position. Let me tell 



Mr. Jirighl^s Return to the Ministry. 



Jan. 



you this— I say it as a member of this admi- 
nistration which is just formed, and I tell you 
nothing here that is a secret, as you know, — 
that DO Govemincnt is deserving of the confi- 
dence and support of the people of thin coun- 
try which cannot carry on the administration 
of the country in a manner consistent with the 
dignity and the securitv of the nation for a 
smaller sum than £70,000,000 a year.' 

There is probably no question upon which 
tbe Gladstone administration has so tho- 
roughly disappointed public expectation as 
upon this. It came into oflrce with the 
loudest professions of economy. Retrench- 
ment was the chtval-de-baluilU upon which 
Mr. Gladstone rode through bis campaign in 
South Lancashire. He ousted the preced- 
ing administration to the cry that it had 
been lavish and spendthrift, and yet at the 
first access of one of those paroxysms of 
folly to which the feebler portion of the 
British public is periodically liable, he 
made the paroxysm hi^ own, and at one 
bound raised the army estimates by a sum 
identical witli that which it coat Mr. Disraeli 
two years of prodigality to spread over the 
whole area of national expense. It is in vain 
for Mr. Bright to talk about a free breakfast 
table, and to hint at the abolition of income 
tax, so long as we persist in keeping on foot 
a huge force of regulars, militiamen, and 
volunteers as a protection against impossible 
invasions ; and it is well that we should all 
understand the price which we pay for the 
maintenance 6f a costly bugbear. The 
probable surplus of revenue is such that a 
moderate redaction of our forces would en- 
able the Chancellor of the Exchequer to 
sweep away the income tax and the sugar 
duties as well ;.nnd if there is any part of 
the policy of the Government which demands 
an apology at the bands of the apostle of re- 
trenchment, it would seem to be the fiagrant 
violation of those promises which, with so 
much flourish and ostentation, they inscribed 
upon their fl^. 

But in all probability Mr. Bright felt that 
he stood before the public less as the apolo- 
gist of the administration than as the gua- 
rantee of better things to come. At all 
events, when he came to deal with what was 
evidently intended to be the main topic of 
his speech, his language was dictated by no 
overweening tenderness for the policy of 
those with whose political fortunes he had 
once more united his own. The boldness of ■ 
his denunciation of the Education Act left 
nothing to be desired. After clearing him- 
self from responsibility on the ground that 
while that measure was in course of prepa- 
ration he was little more than a nominal 
member of the Cabinet, he exposed the 



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1874. 

danger of Icgislnting open a question of this 
magoit.'.de without the guidance {>f au en- 
lightened pubho opinion. It has always 
seemed to as as though the projectors of the 
Education Act were in a hurry to seize a 
base of operations which they feared might 
be disputed if it were not promptly occupied 
in force. It is difBcult otberwiae to explain 
ihe urgency with which a second first-class 
measure whs pressed through a House al- 
ready groaning with the effect of digesting 
the riovel principles and complex details of 
the Irish Land Bill. Mr. Forster, the sinister 
influence of whose recent speech at Liver- 
pool was probably felt at Exeter, himself 
bears witness to the panic which existed in 
his own mind. ' It was necessary without a 
moment's delay that we should set to work 
to provide a national system of education.' 
Now there was no such necessity. For in- 
stant legislation there was no public pressure 
whatever. It is true that an Education Act 
was required, and thatthe whole nation was 
looking forward to it. But the question 
had as yet passed through no portion of the 
process which eventuates in sound legisla- 
tion. It was still in the hands of doctri- 
naires. The hustings and the platform knew 
nothing of it except the fact that it must be 
discussed. TUo class which beyond all 
others were interested in its right solution, 
found themselves for the first time within 
the pale of the Constitution and were still 
nibbing their eyes at the novelty of the 
spectacle around them. In addition to si! 
this, II juncture at which the public mind was 
snrchaiged with other topics was selected as 
that at which to launch a subject of unrival- 
led dilBculty, and demanding for its consi- 
deration the amplest leisure and the utmost 
caution. This is why tlie 25th Clause, as 
Mr. Forster says, ' was passed so quietly.' 
Well, finding Mr. Forster's mind in the state 
of panic which he has described, the de- 
nomination alists by whom he was surround- 
ed, and who have never ceased from that 
time U> this to buzz about him like hungry 
flies, had no great difficulty in persuading 
him to build with anything which he found 
upon the spot, ' wood, hay, aiubble,' The 
ground was encumbered by the existence of 
a denominational system, which for most of 
the real purposes of education had proved 
itself to be a failure. The number of chil- 
dren who emeigcd from under this system 
with an education which deserved the name 
of national was ludicrously small. The rea- 
son w;is obvious. Education was regarded 
by its promoters as the vehicie of dogma. 
When Mr, Lowe stepped in with his revised 
code and demanded something more in re- 
turn for the State grants, the anger of the 



Mr. Srighfa Return to the Miniitry. 



86 

clergy was intense ; but how completely 
they remained masters of the situation is 
proved by the fact that so recently as 1 8Tl 
only one child in forty was able to paas the 
reading examination in what was then 
Class VI. — that is, to read an ordinary para- 
graph in the newspaper. Yet it was this 
comparatively worthless system of education 
which Mr. Forster erected into a national 
one, in order to stave off the political peril of 
an uneducated electorate. 

' The fault of the bill is, in my mind,' 
said Mr. Bright, ' that it extended and con- 
firmed the system which, in point of fact, it 
ought to have superseded.' And he went 
on to show that a national system of in- 
struction based upon denominational effort 
nmst not only fail of accomplishing its as- 
sumed object, but that in a country in which 
the organization of the Church is so perfect 
and so powerful, it must practically become 
a syatcin over which the Church will cxer- 
eisn supreme control. For the petty conces- 
sions which were made to Nonconformist 
opinion during the passing of the measure, 
were purchased by an enormous increase of 
the grants, and when this augmentation was 
once secured, together with plenty of time 
to plant new schools, the victory of the 
Church was complete, and the canonization 
of Mr. Forster commenced. It is diflicnit, 
in spite of all which he has said to the con- 
trary, to doubt the propriety of that canoni- 
zation. In modern times the Church has 
had no such benefactor. He has crowned 
that educational organization of the priest- 
hood over which a recent writer in the 
Quarterly exults, and with the very best in- 
tentions has stunted, perhaps for many years, 
the education of his countrymen. And his 
whole speech, so far as he intended it to be 
the justification of this fundamental policy 
of his, was one long, adroit, and eloquent 
begging of the question. For the altema- 
tiro of denominational, education is not 
that children should be suffered to grow up 
without the opportunity of religious in- 
struction. The question is not, shall reli- . 
gion be taught, but by whom ! At an 
enormous public expense the whole country 
has been covered with a religious net-work, 
presided over by persons whose sacred duty 
it is to become ' fishers of men.' The free 
churches are toiling everywhere with the 
same object. The land is full of pulpits and 
Sun day -schools, nor has it ever been con- 
tended that day-schools should afford no fa- 
cilities to those who are the authorized ex- 
pouaders of the Christian faitii. But the 
cleigy are not satisfied unless they can poet 
an unordained curate, under the title of 
schoolmaster, in every parish, and so flood 



Mr. BrighCi Jieturn to Che JWinittry. 



Jan. 



ne with catechisms at the public coat But 
perhaps the absardities of those who defend 
& natioaal denominational syBtem of educa- 
tion have reached a climax in Mr, Forster'a 
Hssertjon that nithoat a direct reference to 
Scripture we cannot teach a child to speak 
the truth. Let us suppose the worst. Let 
us imagine all the agencies to which we 
have referred to have become extinct. 
When we are dealing with a principle which 
is sanctioned by the public conscience, bj 
the law, and by the universal practice of 
everybody who does not aspire t-o be a 
blackguard, it is not necessary to appeal to 
the personal CKample of good men like 
Abraham, Moses, or David, whicli might 
possibly be found to be on the other side. 

But Mr. Bright's objections to the Edu- 
catjon Act were not confined to the princi- 
ple of * educating through the sects.' The 
mode of electing school boards was con- 
demned by him with equal emphasis. The 
question of religious education is left to the 
-school boards. As a necessary consequence 
they became the arena of sectarian conflicts 
while, through the unnatural agency of the 
cumulative vote, they are crowded with 
bigots and crotcheteers. Mr. Foreter thinks 
that he has found a new at^ment for his 
devices in the assertion of Mr. Jowett, that 
in no instance had parents objected to the 
religious teaching given . by the Leeds 
School Board. ' Parents,' adds Mr. Forster, 
'they might take it for granted, from this 
fact, did not feel much of the religions diffi- 
culty.' Yet it is in the name of this reli- 
gious difficulty, as felt by parents, that he 
maintains in the face of vehement opposi- 
tion the 25th Clause. Mr. Bright, on the 
other hand, advocates its repeal, nod hints 
that he has discovered the means of meeting 
every possible objection to such a course. 
We gather from Mr. Stan sf eld's recent 
speech at Ilalifai, that the Cabinet has de- 
cided upon the adoption of some such expe- 
dient; but no one knows better than Mr. 
Bright or Mr. Stansfeld that the repeal of 
this obnosious clause cannot 'end the strife. 
A direct and roecial tax, when it is levied 
for purposes which we disapprove, is always 
more odious than one which is disguised in 
the general demands of the Exchequer, and 
therefore is more stoutly resisted. But 
the Nonconformists' repugnance to the 
Education Act, apart from their objection 
on educational grounds, is based upon the 
fact that it has brought about a vast re-en- 
dowment of the Church ; and whether that 
endowment proceeds from the national ex- 
chequer, or comes directly out of the putscs 
■ of the ratepayers, in principle the objection 
is the same. In proportion, therefore, as the , 



whole question of national education be- 
comes bet^r understood throughout the coun- 
try, we may expect to see that re-considera- 
tion of the Act which Mr. Bright foretell!>, 
more and more ui^ntly forced upon Par- 
iinment in spite of the repeal of the 2Sth 
Clause, or any other attempt to mitigate or 
disguUe the injustice and the feebleness 
which are inherent in the measure itself. 

When Mr. Bright had launched hia pro- 
test against the Education Act, the chief 
topic which remained for him to handle was 
that of the land. ' What the agricultural 
elassintbiscountry requires,' he said, 'is, that 
thelandshouldhemade absolutely free ;' and 
in a letter which be addressed subsequently 
to Mr. Sanders, of Stockton, be explained 
the meaning which he^ttaches to the term 
' free land ' : — 

' It means the abolition of the law of primo- 
geniture, and the limitation of the system of 
entails and settlements, so that " lire interests" 
may be for the most part got rid of, and a real 
ownership substituted for them. It means also 
that it shall be as easy to buy or sell land as Id 
buy or sell a ship, or at least as easy as it is in 
Australia, and in many or in all the States of 
the American Unian. It means that no legal 
encouragement shall be given lo great estates 
and great farmii, and that the natural forces of 
accumulation and disperFion shall have free 
play. It me:in!i, too. tliat while the lawyer 
shall be well paid for hi.s work, unnecessary 
work shall not be made for him, involving an 
enormous tax on all transactions in connection 
with tlie purchase and sale of lands and 
houses.* 

Mr. Blight has always been of opinion 
that great social benefits would flow from 
the reforms which he contemplates. 
There is no doubt that these changes, 
coupled with the institution of an Encum- 
bered Estates Court, and a thorough simpli- 
fication of titles by means of compulsory 
registration and the recc^ition of a fixed 
term of undisputed possession, would per- 
mit land to gravitat« much more freely, than 
it does now into the best bands — that is, 
those most capable of doing it justice. The 
community, not only of producers but of 
consumers, sufTerj immense loss through the 
circumstance that land often remains for 
generations in the possession of crippled or 
impoverished persons ; and there is every 
reason to believe that if transfer were ren- 
dered cheap and easy, many estates, especial- 
ly in populous neighbourhoods, would be 
parcelled out into small plots and pass 
into the hands of thrifty labourers and 
artisans. There ie no class of Englishmen 
which does not hanker after what — for 
want of a better term — we must call visible 



■, Google 



1874. 

jMvperty, and the return from houses and 
gardens in the occupation of the proprietor, 
would be far more remunerative than the 
intereat allowed by savings' banks. It ie 
pitiable to think of the amount of time 
which the great wage-earning chus squan- 
ders in dissolute ftmusements, because it has 
no resort for its leisure except the ale-house, 
and no powerfnl and constant motire for 
the exercise of provident fru^lity. We 
maintivn, then, that the quesUoa of free 
land ia still a poor man's question, and that 
it is precisely one of those which, with the 
diffusion of intelligence, is destined before 
long to become popular in the constituencies. 
It has been damaged no doubt to some ex- 
lent by the extravagant theories of some 
land-law reformers. For example, we can 
scarcely conceive a more monstrous proposal 
• than that the State should confiscate to its 
own use all the increa.sed value of land due 
to causes over which the owner has no con- 
trol. Why should tbe owner of land be the 
only person not to participate in tbe fruits 
of general prosperity 1 If this proposal is 
just, the converse is just also, and the own- 
er in cases in which his land falls in value 
through causes over which he has no con- 
trol is entitled to come down upon the 
State for compensation. We beiivve that 
for all practical purposes the only true and 
honest theory of the land is this — that what- 
ever may have been its original tenure, yet 
throagh centuries of uational consent it has 
become as absolutely the property of those 
who hold it in fee-simple as any other thing 
which they possess, and like any other 
thing which they possess it should be made 
capable of being passed freely from hand 
to hand. 

The land question has, of conrse, achieved 
new prominence through the recent attitude 
of the agricultural labourer. A great rise lias 
already taken place in the rate of wages, and 
the fanner naturally looks about for some 
means by which he may reimburse himself for 
the enhanced cost of hia operations. We be- 
lieve that he will recoup himself in great 
measure from the higher quality of the la- 
hour for which he pays. Good food and 
cheerful prospects Aill in time raise Hodge 
from the position of a feeble and unwilling 
drudge to that of a muscular and indus- 
trious servant But the farmer has a right 
to expect that the legislature will do some- 
thing for him as well. An equitable scheme 
of tenant-right, maintained by adequate tri- 
bunals, and followed by a generous system 
of leasing, would give an impetus to his 
trade under the influence of which he wonid 
soon cease to grudge a fair day's wage for 
a fair day's work. The writer of a recent 



JUr. Bvigh^s Return to the Ministry. 



87 

review, to wliich we have already referred, 
declares that the real attack upon property 
is to come through tenant-right, and loudly 
denounces it as an outrage upon tlie rights 
of landlords. Landlords have so long made 
and administered the laws in their own in- 
terest, that they are naturally intolerant of 
any attempt to restore the balance and to 
make them in the interest of anyone else, 
especially of those whose well-being has 
been made subservient to their own. But 
surely it is the duty of the State to extend 
an equal protection to the property of every 
subject in the realm, whether that property 
consist of land or of capital ; and if the 
owner of land is unifble or unwilling to cul- 
tivate it at his own cost and his own risk, 
to see that those whom be invites to assist 
hin) are, so far as may be, protected in the 
expenditure which the right use of the land 
demands. Nor is it possible that Pariiament 
can continue to permit the wholesale rava- 
ges of ground gome. Hares must take their 
chance in a country which teems with popu- 
lation, and where f^riculture has become a 
science, the problems of which cannot be suc- 
cessfully solved if the conditions are to be 
constantly disturbed by the legalized irruption 
of wild animals. Mr. Bright was loudly and 
justly cheered when he reverted to one of 
the old questions of his political youth. ' It 
seems to be monstrous,' he exclaimed, ' that 
tenant farmers should occupy land, pay a 
great rent for it, and 'that they should not 
have absolute property in all that lives upon 
the soil,' We have now sketched the out- 
line of that liberal policy to which Mr. 
Bright, after years of retirement and re- 
flection, still gives his firm adhesion. Mr, 
Chamberlain had the satisfaction of hearing 
his political representative adopt one after 
another, with scarcely any exception, his now 
famous and much abused four points. The 
League, together with everyone who desires 
to see the education of the people emanci- 

Sated from priestly control, went away paci- 
ed and comforted. TIte effect of the speech 
upon the prospects of the party has been in- 
calculable. Mr, Bright has never aspired to 
be regarded as a parly leader. On the con- 
trary, he has always disowned the title and 
disclaimed the responsibility ; but it may ho 
safely affirmed that at this juncture tlicre is 
no party leader in England whose advice 
would have been received bo implicitly in 
tbe ranks as a word of command. By the 
weight of his personal authority lie has done 
more to arrest the demoralization and restore 
the confidence of the Liberal forces than the 
most skilful reeoustruction of the ministry, 
or the most ample declarations of a change 
of policy on the part of its chief. This is a 



Mr. Jirighta Return to the Miniary. 



JaD. 



great personal triumph, and it U dne to tbat 
of which a politician may justly feel proud — 
a reputation for honesty of purpose anil in- 
flexible devotion to principle, upon which 
even faction has never dared to breathe. ' I 
hold the principles,' said Mr. Bright in bis 
address, " when in office wbieh 1 have con- 
stantly professed since you gave ine your 
confidence sixteen years ago. When I find 
myself unable to advance those principles, 
and to serve you honestly as a minister, I 
.shall abandon a position which demands of 
mc sacrifices which I cannot make.' Wha 
those principles are Mr. Bright has carefully 
oxplHined,and his simple declaration that he 
will quit office when they cease to be in the 
ascendant is an indisputable guarantee 
against any recourse to the vagaries of 1870, 
and the retrograde policy of the last few 

E^rs. For if with this understanding Mr. 
right should find that he must tender his 
resignation, that event will speedily be fol- 
lowed by another — the downfall of tbe ad- 
ministration. The certainty of this result 
will appear from a careful survey of the cir- 
cumstances which have rendered Mr, Bright's 
adhesion to the ministry a matter of supreme 
importance. It would be a curious coinci- 
dence, if the explanation were not upon the 
surface, that the retirement of Mr. Bright 
from public life should mark the fiow and 
his return to it the ebb of Conservative suc- 
cess in the constituencies. Up to the year 
1870 the Libera! majority in the House of 
Commons reinained unimpaired. The party 
gains and losses were equal. What hap- 
pened in ] 870 to turu victory into defeat, to 
prompt tbe fable of a Conservative reaction, 
and finally to let loose the Quarterly re- 
viewer i To the statesman of tbe Educa- 
tion Act belongs the credit of breaking up 
the Liberal party, and making Mr. D'israeli 
once more a possibility. It was during the 
passing of that Act that a Liberal ministry, 
with a majority of one hundred and twenty, 
made the grand discovery of ruling by the 
help of the Tories. Nothing could be sim- 
pler. Throw strict principle overboard, and 
you might dispense with the aid of the whips. 
Compromise with the opposition, and if those 
reckless radicals insisted upon a division, tbe 
lobby of lobbies could not contain you. The 
only drawback was that you had reckoned 
without the country. An election took place, 
and it was lost. Before the circumstance 
could be properly explained, we lost another. 
The Whig press was fertile in explanations. 
Here was always an exceptional cause for 
our misfortunes, but the only thing which 
was exceptional was success. Toryism be- 
came disagreeably rampant, and talked in 
the most feeling manner about Conservative 



reaction. The Whigs hinted that the advent 
of a great third party was at hand. All this 
time the discontent m the constituencies was 
becoming only too loudly pronounced. Men 
stood aloof from the committee rooms who 
knew the secret of elections. An unaccount- 
able paralysis prostrated the very persons 
who were in the habit of doing everything 
whenever the party fonnd itself in the pres- 
ence of the enemy. The crotcheteers, tlioM 
invariable forerunners of party dissolution, 
came to the front and seemed as though, if 
it were possible, they would deceive the very 
elect. Even the working classes began to 
desert ns. The Criminal Law Amendment 
Act and the Parks Bill had proved more than 
they could comfortably digest. Our prodi- 
gal expenditure upon the army, and the at- 
tempt to infuse a martial spirit among the 
people, by the establishment of military cen- 
tres, disgusted that portion of the electors 
who are ardent lovers of peace. The daily 
working of the Education Act, the tri- 
umphs which cumulative voting gave to 
clerical or^nization, the irrepressible exul- 
tation of State- Church men at the spectacle 
of a ci-devant Quaker covering the country 
with Church schools, the refusal of the Gov- 
ernment to repeal the 25th Clause even after 
it had lost all value except as a weapon of 
defiance for Mr. Forster to brandish in the 
faces of NonconformisU, the ntter break- 
down of the Endowed Schools Act so far as 
it proposed to sweep away the monopoly of 
Church control, the reactionary Endowed 
Schools Act Amendment Bill, the thorough 
ecclesiastieisrn of the ministerial policy, cul- 
minating in the half contemptuous tone of 
the speech by which Mr. Gladstone insisted 
upon closing the debate on Mr. Miali's mo- 
tion almost before it had begun — all this se- 
ries of measures and incidents exasperated 
beyond endurance those earnest and inde- 
fatigable poUtieians, by the aid of whose ex- 
ertions alone in the constituencies were the 
friends of ministers able to defy the formi- 
dable alliance of the Church, the brewery, 
andtheland. The session closed for the Libe- 
ral party in tbe midst of a profound gloom, 
the silence of which even Mr. Gladstone 
durst not break. 

It is absolutely necessary that we should 
state the truth in this matter, however pain- 
ful it may be to do so ; for in relation to tbe 
prospects of the party the crisis has been 
most serious, and we fear that the danger is 
not over even yet. The immediate effect 
produced by Mr. Bright's speech has no 
doubt been immense ; but we must not shut 
onr eyes to the fact that this effect is solely 
dne to the expectation that the policy which 
he represents will, sptyiking generally, bo- 



Kwlc 



1874. 



Mr. Brigfu'^ Return to ifte Ministry. 



come tlie poKof of the Cabinet If, contra- 
ry to our hope and belief, this should not be 
the cftae, and Mr. Forster shuiilj once more 
come to the surface with his policy of condi- 
tional surrender, tlie disappointment will be 
intense, jealousy nod diaunion will instantly 
revive, the patched-up party will once more 
fall asaader, the elections will go against us, 
and the last state will be worse than the 
first. And it is from a knowledge of what 
is the real feeling of advanced Liberals — not 
merely of those daring spirits who aspire to 
be pioneers, but of the more moderate mem- 
bers of the party below the gangway ; men 
of wealth, whom it is absurd to suspect of 
cherishing designs against property ; tncn of 
culture, whom it is ridiculous to suppose 
guilty of desiring innovation for its own 
sake — it is, we repeat, from a knowledge of 
the opinion of nuch meu that nc speak when 
we assert that the position is still critical. 
Let us discuss, therefore, what we think we 
have a right to expect from the Administra- 
tion as the result of this new combination, 
and what we believe will really heal the dis- 
sensions of the party. And first let us say 
what we do not expect. We do not expect 
that Mr. Gladstone should declare his cou' 
version to the principles of the League, or of 
the Liberation Society. The guarded man- 
ner in which Mr. Bright speaks of the groat 
question of the Church, indicates that in his 
opinion the opportunity hat not yet come 
for urging its solution upon the Gtivemment. 
We should suppose that he knows too well 
the opinions and leanings of his collengues 
to place much reliance upon any solution of 
sucQ a question, at which they would bo 
likely to arrive in the present crude st^kte of 
public opinion with respect to it. National 
education has gained little from the impetu- 
osity. of its promoters. We have had one 
more example of the unwisdom of trying to 
pluck fruit Defore it ia ripe. Nor is the posi- 
tion of the Church question such as to cause 
the slightest apprehension, lest it should 
suffer through ilinistcriai neglect. No great 
question of modern times has progressed 
with equal rapidity, or has been mora 
thoroughly esenipt from the usual vicisai- 
tudea. Without one serious check it has 
pawed through the first of the three stages 
which divide its journey towards solution, 
the stage of abstract proof. Even if Mr. 
Miall, contrary to the hopes of all his friends, 
should find himself compelled by failing 
health to retire from Parliament, he will 
have the satisfactiou of feeling that he has 
brought his question to a point, at which the 
only effective resistance is based upon the 
dictum that ' the country is not governed by 
lo^c' With extraordinaiy skill and pa- 



tience he has developed an irrefn^ble argu- 
ment, and driven baclc his opponents step Dy 
step, until at last they are compelled to take 
refuge in mere expediency. Presently this 
precarious defence will fail them, and their 
plea will be reduced to demurrers on the 
score of opportunity, and a cry for time. 
But we »Ti told that the salvation of the 
State Chureh will be found in the sup- 
port of a class not remarkable for ita reli- 
gious experience, nor conspicuous for its de- 
votion to logic ; we mean the universal rate- 
payer. He likes his religion cheap, and will 
never quarrel with an ins^tution which Mr. 
Hughes tells him briugs it to his door, just 
as a gratuitous system of water pipes brings 
water, for nothing, Undevthese inexpensive 
conditions he does not inquire too nicely 
into the quality of his water, and we are as- 
sured that he is not likely to analyse the re- 
ligious overflow, with the view of ascertain- 
ing how much oi^nic matter it may con- 
tain. Such an a^ument is itself a reservoir 
of the most pellucid fallacies. The univer- 
sal ratepayer has his eye already upon the 
surplus revenues of the Church. He regards 
them as a bountiful provision for his school 
rate, his poor rate, and even for that night- 
mare of his financial dreams, his coming 
sanitary rate. The surplus revenues of the 
Church in Ireland are sufi'ered to accumulate. 
T)o but touch them, and show bow very 
useful they can be made, and the universal 
ratepayer, whenever he sees a spire, will 
throw himself into an attitude of cheerful 
expectancy. Another fallacy which is fre- 
quently pat forward by those State Church- 
men who are still living in a fool's p.iradine, 
is that disestablishment is purely a Dis- 
senter's question, and that it is one which 
is sura to go back now that the artizans 
have swamped the Dissenters in the consti- 
tuencies. It may be quite true that the 
majority of the working classes are neither 
Churchmen nor Dissenters, and that they 
care comparatively little for the religious 
aspect of the question. What they do care 
for, however, is its political aspect. If the 
advocates of disestablbhmcnt have hitherto 
laid greater stress upon the injustice of reli- 
gious inequality, and the injury which vital 
religion sustains through the patronage and 
control of the State, it is because tbey have 
spoken as Dissenters, rather than as politi- 
cians. For in dealing with the middle class 
constituencies with their Nonconformist 
complexion, they naturally appealed chiefly 
to N onconformiat principles. But now that 
the area of representation has been im- 
mensely extended, they will extend also the 
field of their argument Tliey will show 
that it is for the interest of the working 



■zocoy Google 



Mr. BrighCa Jtelurii to the Ministry. 



Jsn. 



classes to put an end to a system which de- 
votes vast natural resources to the maiote- 
nance of hostile opiiiions-^a system which 
has resolutely set itself against the concossioD 
of every right which they have claimed, and 
which, entrenched in a fortress belonging to 
the nation, frowns down upon them at each 
step of their democratic progress with all 
the insolence of privilege. 

Nor is the disposition of the future niral 
elector hltely to prove more favourable to 
the Church and dct pretensions than that 
of his urban ally. He objects to the horse- 

tond, the episcopal remedy for his distress. 
le lias seen the parson siding with the 
sqnire and the fanners in their opposition to 
his agitation for a better table and a hap- 
pier home. He remembers that contents 
ment has been the great doctrine preached. 
Ho knows that if his spiritual adviser had 
been listened to his existence would have 
remMnud ' a journey more or less circuitous 
to the poor-house.' It is not, therefore, 
from the rural elector, any more than from 
his cousin in towns, that the Church is likely 
to derive that sympathy and support which 
will eoablc her to fight her battles ' " 



time to c 



Since then, with 



■egai 



ird to 



this question, as well as with regard to 
many others, ' time is on our side,' we can 
safely afford to exercise forbearance towards 
Mr. Gladstone, and his ' cabinet of Church- 
men.' But what we have a right to expect 
is, that when the House is asked to discuss 
disestablishment with the view of ripening 
opinion out of doors, the debate shall not 
be overlaid by the Premier, and stifled be- 
fore dinner ; we have a right to expect that 
the question itself shall be regarded as an 
open one by an administration in which Mr. 
Bright occupies a distinguished place, and 
that neither he nor any other minister who 
may share his opinion shall be compelled to 
give the lie by their votes to the convictions 
of their lives. But this is not all. In ask- 
ing forbearance at the hands of Nonconfor- 
mists, we must be careful tofixtlie limits, 
beyond which that forbearance must not 
stretch. It cannot be extended to retro- 
gressive legislation ; it cannot be extended 
to any attempt, directly or indirectly, to 
bolster up the State Church ; and from all 
efibrts to soothe the opposition, Forster- 
fashion, by farther compromise in this direc- 
tion, it must at all cost and hazards be with- 
held. 

How necessary it is to draw the line with 
rigid precision will appear when we remind 
our riders that the next session of Farlia- 
ment must witness the revival of the whole 
controversy with regard to the management 
of endowed schools. The Endowed Schools 



Act Amendment Bill, introduced and passed 
by Mr. Forster at the close of last session, 
was not of a character to restore our confi- 
dence in the Vice-President of the Commit- 
tee of Council. It contained no single con- 
cession to Nonconformists ; but was full of 
concessions to the Church party, and in all im- 
portant respects presented a very marked de- 
clension from the principles of the Act which 
it was supposed to amend. It withdrew a 
number of elementary schools from beneath 
the purview of the Commissioners, mate- 
rially widened the definition of denomina- 
tional schools under Clause 19, and enabled 
the Commissioners to reintroduce clerical ex 
officio governors into their schemes. Our 
readers will remember that Nonconformists 
had taken their stand upon the Act itself, 
and denied the legality of such appoint- 
menta. Their contention was crowned with 
success. Mr. Forster supported their view 
of the case, aiid the Judicial Committee of 
the Privy Council -declared in their favour. 
It was no longer possible to make clergymen 
of the <!horch of England governors by 
virtue of their office. Yet in order to gra- 
tify the Church party, and disarm their 
opposition, Mr. Forster introduced this ob- 
noxious provision into his bill. When a 
Committee of the House of Commons was 
appointed to investigate the working of the 
old Act Nonconformists were sanguine that 
they were in a position to show now com- 
plet«ly the intentions of the Act, with regard 
to the constitution of governing bodies, had 
been set aside through the action of the 
Cominissioners. They proved, by reference 
to a table of published schemes, that nine- ' 
tenths of the new co-optative trustees were 
members of the Church of England, that 
the co-optative element so constituted waa 
frequently made to embrace more than half 
of the governing body, and that even when 
they were dealing with the election of that 
portion of the hoards which profess to- re- 
present the popular choice, the Commis- 
sioners had substituted some more or less 
exchisive corporation, wherever possible, for 
the popular constituency. They proved that 
the prac^cal result of this policy had been 
to hand over undenominational endowed 
schools, almost all over the kingdom, to 
Church management in perpetuity ; but that 
its adoption was flagrantly at variance with 
the recommendations of the Schools Inquiry 
Commissioners and the spirit of the Act 
itself. When the Committee came to deli- 
berate upon their report, the following para- 
graph was proposed by Mr. Leatham : — 

' The attention of the Committee has been 
called, through the evidence oi several wit- 



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1874. 

nesse)!. to the estensire nse which has been 
made by the CommisHioners of the co-optative 
prmciple in the nominatioa of members of tbo 
gOT«rniiig bodies of schools under Section IT, 
and to the fact that a large majority of these 
co-optative governors belong to one religious 
community. While fully recognising the 
motives of the Commissioners in giving this 
wide development to the co-optative principle 
— viz., the desire to conciliate opposition on 
the port of old trustees, and to preserve some 
degree of continuity in the management of the 
schools, wc are of opinion that caution should 
be oxercised lest by an undue recourse to such 
appointments, the impression be produced that 
predominance is indirectly sought for any par> 
ticular church or denomination in the manage- 
ment of such schools.' 

This paragraph, irhich iras intended to 
act as a check upon the abuse of the co- 
optative principle, and which appears to 
have been flamed studiously with the view 
of avoiding a single phrase which could be 
considered offensive either to the Church or 
the Commissioners, received the assent of 
Mr. Forster and of every Liberal member of 
the Committee with one exception. It was 
rejected by the casting vote of Sir Thomas 
Dyke Acland ; and, as a neeeasary result, 
there was no reference whatever to the Non- 
conformist evidence in the report. By 
separating himself from his party on that 
occasion Sir Thomas has exposed himself to 
severe criticism at the h^nds of bis consti- 
tnents. We should suppose that even under 
the most favourable circumstances a Non- 
conformist elector would experience some 
difficulty in adopting as his political repre- 
sentative an ecclesiastical commissioner, and 
we are not surprised that in view of this 
signal disservice the Dissenters of Devon- 
shire should have engaged Sir Thomas in an 
exceedingly briak correspondence. When 
the bill, which was founded upon this re- 
port, was brought in, whether it was that Mr. 
Forster, aided by long experience, gauged 
to a nicety the amount of compromise 
which was necessary to float it, or whether, 
as rumour has it, conferences were held at 
which the Church party dictated their own 
terms, we do not know, and wc do not care 
to mquire. This we know, that the measure 
passed the Iloose without formidable oppo- 
sition, except from the advanced Liberals, 
and that the House of Lords, having ob- 
served how squeezable the Ministry bad 
become, and with the view, no doubt, of 
exacting still further concessions, limited the 
operation of the Act to a single year, and 
thus provided us with the means of testing 
bow far the reconstruction of the Ministry 
baa tended towards the inauguration of a 
sounder policy. We shall watch, therefore, 



Mr. BrigMa lUtum to the Ministry. 



itlth the utmost anxiety the posture of Mr, 
Gladstone and his colleagues when they 
come to deal wilh this qnestion. If we per- 
ceive an honest desire to revert to the free 
principles of the original Act, and a deter- 
mination t« brave l^ry displeasure by re- 
storing Nonconformists to that position in 
the governing bodies of undenominational 
schools which, as citizens, they have a right 
to occupy, but which has been snatched 
from them by the manipulation of the 
Commissioners — we shall conclude that the 
policy of compromise has been abandoned, 
and that the Government has at length 
resolved to carry through tliis great contro- 
versy in a manner worthy of their position 
as the official representatives of Liberal 
opinion. It is very possible that this deli- 
berate change of front may involve a 
struggle with the House of Lords, and even- 
tually an appeal to the people ; but we can 
reca!! no question upon which that appeal 
could be made with a fuller certainty of the 
response. Let Mr. Gladstone adopt the 
policy advocated bv Mr. Roby and Mr. Hob- 
house ; let him shake himself loose from 
the superstition of the dead hand ; let him 
place at least one Nonconformist on the 
commission, since one of the Vice-Presi- 
dents of the Church Defence Association is 
there already ; let him strengthen the hands 
of the Commissioners in their dealings with 
the old trustees ; let bim entmst the man- 
agement of the schools without reserve to 
representatives appointed by the ratepayers 
themselves, and he will have placed our 
whole system of secondary education upon 
a basis which will endure for ever. 

But this is not the only question with re- 
gard to which the intentions of the GoverU' 
ment will be narrowly watched. Finance 
will demand no such attentive observation. 
' With Mr, Gladstone at the Exchequer we 
may rely apon a creditable budget Nor is 
it likely that anything will arise in our rela- 
tions with foreign countries to arrest the 
reconciliation between the Radicals and the 
Government. In the foreign policy of Lord 
Granville they have reposed just confidence 
from the be^nning. Even the miserable 
squabble upon the Gold Coast is scarcely 
likely, with Mr. Bright in the Cabinet, to reach 
dimensions so serious as to rouse the indig- 
nation of the mea of peace ; especially if 
at the termination of bloodshed eSectire 
measures be taken to prevent the possibility 
of its recurrence. We hear rumours that 
the Cabinet is applying itself to the con- 
sideration of the labour question, and we do 
not doubt that means will be devised by 
which to reconcile the just claims of master 
and servant. We do not share the v^ue 



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Mr. SrighCa Hetum to t/te Ministry. 



Jan. 



terrors of the Quarterly reviewer. Thfe 
policy of the working classes is not ' a wild 
and bloody dream.' It is not true that ' in 
every country tlirough strikes or through 
reToiutioiiary outbreaks every opportunity 
has been used during tbe last twenty years 
with unremitting vigilance to accomplish 
the wild visione of triumph over capital.' 
The man who speaks th'is of the industrious 
millions upon whose sk'ill and labour the 
prosperity of England is founded, is guilty 
cither of vile slander or of unpardonable igno- 
rance. Dark indeed would be our future if 
there were one word of truth in these ex- 
pressions. But it was thoaght necessary, we 
presume, to hazard them in order that the 
dieory of an ' essential antagonism between 
the intt-rests and aspirations of the middle 
and lower classes ' might be set up. There 
is no such antagonism. The vast mass of 
the middle class consists of retail traders 
whose prosperity is bound up with every- 
thing which tends to put money into the 
workman's pockets, whence it trickles into 
their tills. The great employers of laliour 
themselves, (absurdly styled by this writer 
the middle class) have no reason to complain, 
of the share which the workman has claimed 
and has obtained iu the stupendous proiits 
of the last few years. We earnestly desire 
that the discussion of the questions which 
still exist between capital aud labour may 
' not be embittered and embarrassed by the 
misrepresentations of reckless calumniators. 
We have reason to hope that Mr. Bright, 
who is himself a large employer of labour, 
but one who probably enjoys, more than any 
other living statesman, the confidence of the 
elass whom ho employs, will exert his vast 
influence with a view to the solution of pro- 
blems which he evidently regards wilnout 
apprehension. 

There remains the question of the county 
franchise. We hope that the subject of 
local taxation will not be suffered to usurp 
the place of the last icstaimen't of sufii-age 
reform. The failure of the Ministerial 
nieasures of the past session constitutes a 
sufficient reason why ministers should decline 
to pursue through the last days of an ex- 
piring Parliament a question which excites 
so little enthusiasm in the country, which ap- 
pears to be far from ripe, and which tbe Tories 
would now be glad enough to leave alone. 
On the other hand, the franchise question b 
one which all experience proves can never 
sleep when it has once been mooted. The 
extension of the franchise U> the house- 
holder in counties is the logical sequence of 
the Reform Bill of 1867, and the proposal 
haa already received the support of leaders 
upon both sides of the House. It is the 



proper work for the last year in the life of a 
Parliament; for when you enfranchise, you 

ought to put the enfranchised as speedily as 

fiossible in active possession of their privi- 
eges. There is not an ailment against it 
which was not rejected when we were legis- 
laling for the extension of the franchise in 
boroughs. The personal unfitness of indi- 
viduals was a consideration which was 
utterly disregarded when we took ' the leap 
in the dark.' We are now^ living under the 
rule of ' poverty and passion ; ' we have not 
yet 'taught onr masters to read,' but things 
go on very much as they used to do. It 
will never again be possible to array the 
fears and prejudices of society against house- 
hold sufTrage. Mr. Disraeli's love of para- 
dox is such, that be selects the most practi- 
cal city in the kingdom as the proper place 
for the display of his triumphant contempt 
for truth, and the Scotch, as the people who 
will most readily believe him, when he asserts 
that he loves his enemies. His alacrity to 
protect the ' backbone of Liberalism ' from 
the assaults of that ' irresponsible individual ' 
who will 'jumj up in the House of Com- 
mons' and propose the equalization of the 
borough and county franchise, ought per- 
haps to convince us with what touching 
tenderness he regards the Whigs whom he 
has ' dished.' The small boroughs, it ap- 
pears, are the backbone of Liberalism ; the 
small boroughs must go, if you reduce the 
county franchise, and what will Liberalism 
do then, poor thing ! It did not occur to 
Mr. Disraeli that flie small boroughs may 
yet be saved by judicious grouping, or that, 
unless we are prepared to go the leiigtli of 
instituting equal electoral districts, we are 
not logically bound ' entirely to break up 
the borough representation of the county.' 
But it does occur to us that the counties arc 
the backbone of Toryism, and that the in- 
troduction of an clement of gigantic strength 
may go far to rob this backbone of its spinal . 
marrow. If so, the alarm of the Conserva- 
tive leader admits of a natural explanation, 
Tliat this is really the view of the party of 
resistance, and that as party men we may hope 
to see the Tories combining to oppose this 
necessary change is probable, if wc compare 
the tone of the ^Quarterli/ reriewcr (standing, 
as he dues, at quite another pole of Toryism) 
with that of bis chief. Though they appear 
to difier in so many other partieulai's, they 
agree at least in this, a suspicions and ill- 
disguised anxiety to persuade us that it is for 
the interest of our party to let things alone. 
Speculation has been rife as to the au- 
thorship of an article, which, with the Bath 
Letter, must be regarded as the Tory gospel 
and epistle for the day, . It has evidently 



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1854. 



Mr. Brigkft Return to the Miniatty. 



descendi'd to us from ' another place.' No 
one 'who was oot 'up in a balloon ' could 
have written it — it betraya bo mnch un- 
conscious aerostation , The reasoning moves 
in a region which is far above the level of 
facts. The man who has once persuaded 
himself that the great uprising of Liberalism ' 
which tossed Charles I. from his throne is to 
be attributed to something which the Ein- 

Eeror of Gennany was doing in Bohemia, 
as no difficulty in persuading himself that 
the ministerial reverses of the last three 
years were due to the fall of the Commune 
— has no difficulty in persuading himself of 
anything. The tone in which he speaks of 
property, and the perils which await it, is 
certainly not that of a man who has been 
accustomed to its possession. Is he labour- 
ing under a sudden access of opnience, and 
suffering from acres on the brain ( Is he 
some parvena of the Peerage — some young- 
er son who has vaulted into the enjoyment 
of millions and titles to which be was not 
bornf But if so, what right has he to 
lecture the Grosvonors on their duties, and 
to teach the Cavendishes what is expected of 
Ihem! The finesse with which he ap- 
proaclies the Whigs is worthy of a writer 
who begins his article by the assertion ' that 
an absurd importance has been attached to 
peculiarities of manner.' Ua compares thcni 
to ' the voters who vote towards four 
o'clock.' ' It has constantly happened to 
them,' he sjiys, ' to vote for that which they 
have denounced ;' ' when the minister eats his 
principles, they go throngh the same meal as 
. gracefully as is compatible with the necessary 
Bpeed ;' ' they accept the support of revolu- 
tionists, seek to conciliate their votes, and 
CM a point nse their help for purposes of 
agitation.' And why( 'For the sole pur- 
pose of resisting the Conservatives.' In 
fact, tliey are a pack of knaves or fools, or 
both, and having delicately told them bo, 
this writer winds up by expecting them to 
act with dignity and honour! His object 
apparently is to soothe and woo ; so he 
soothes with a blister, and woos with a rod. 
Can such a politician aspire to be regarded 
as a statesman ! But what is it that these 
much-enduring Whigs are to do ? Upon 
tliis point the writer is as obscure as the 
clouds from the midst of which he launches 
his ricketty parachute. They are to break 
with the party of progress, but the party of 
resistance they are on no account to join. 
They are to belong to no party. They arc 
to vacate the Houkc of Commqns, for there 
is no constituency in the kingdom which 
would tolerate a candidate who came to it 
in neutral clothes. They are to renounce all 
hope of place, patronage, and pay. The ob- 



servation of the man in the balloon has led 
him to the conclusion that ' the happy des- 
patch ' is the only operation through which 
Ihe Whigs are likely to arrive at dignity 
and honour; and their well-known predilec- 
tion for self-sacrifice no doubt encourages 
him in the hope that when they have 
perused his article, they will begin to disem- 
Dowel themselves on the spot. 

Pilate in the presence of Omniscience 
asked— What is truth ! T!ie Quarterly Re- 
viewer confronts the century and asks — 
What is progress? Progress is everything 
which he, and such as he, spend their lives 
in attempting to resist. -Catholic, and He- 
brew Emancipation, the Repeal of the Test 
and Corporation Acts, the Reform Acts of 
1832 and 1867, the Abolition of the Corn 
Laws, the opening of the Universities and 
Endowed Schools, the Disestablish tuent and 
Disendowment of a national Church, th* 
Irish Land Act, the Extinction of Purchase 
in the Army ; all this is progress. And 
future progress is inexorably linked to 
progress in the past. It will follow the 
same lines, experience the %ame resistance, 
and triumph over the same obstacles. 
'And is there no such thing as finality? 
perhaps exclaims the reviewer. Yes ; but 
we decline to draw the line in conformity 
with the notions of a politician who thinks 
that it ought to have been drawn fifty 
years ago. The man who is always tra- 
velling forwards, assured by the results of 
each step which he takes, that it is forwards, 
is perpetually changing his horizon. The 
century itself as it proceeds does so. The 
horizon of some politicians is much broader 
than that of others. The Whigs of the 

E resent generation have never been remarka- 
le for the breadth of theirs. But if the 
range of their forecast has been limited, 
they have at least known how to take one 
step at a time ; and, when it has once been 
taken, they have cheerfully acknowledged 
its wisdom. The Quarterly reviewer and 



the Conservativt 



13 opinion, separat- 



ed from the Whigs by ' an almost invisible 
line.' The Whiga differ from him at least 
in this — they have a glorious past, and they 
believe in it They have played their part 
manfully in ever]' conflict of opinion in 
which the Conservatives have been worsted. 
This is why the very Rjidicals, who chide 
their wariness, regard them as valuable co- 
adjutors, erring indeed on the side of pru- 
dence, hut always in the end amenable to 
reason. A horse is no less a i^ood horse 
across country because he has to be ridden 
with spurs; and nothing can be more un- 
true than to describe the Radical feeling 
towardsthe Whigs as one of hostility or 



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JSetuT/ T/toreav, the Post-Naturalitt. 



94 

contempt. No doabt tlie faculty which, 
' tbrougli long usage, the Whigs have devel- 
oped, of appropriating the results of Radical 
agitatiou, has sometimes afforded the young- 
er members of the party material for plea.- 
santry and baut«r; but no one knows better 
tban the latter how liiuch we owe to Whig 
genenilsLip when once the whole ground 
has been explored by Eadical pioneers, and 
the advance which has been so long talked 
about has really to be made. The two arms 
of our great force have uot acted so long 
in concert without arriving at a definition of 
the special service to be performed by each. 
The Radical pickets are always on the alert, 
always skirmishing at the outposts, always 
scouring the country in advance : the solid 
Whig battalions march steadily behind 
them ; and in the story of their united victo- 
ries is to be found the cause why in no 
other country of the world property is so 
safe, order so secure, and liberty bu strong. 



Art. VIII.— -ffenry Thoreau, the Poet- 
NaturalUt. By W. H. Chakmibo, D.D. 
O^ood and Co. 

Mr. II. A. Paqb, in his little Memoir of 
Nathaniel Hawthorne, has made an inciden- 
tal reference to Thoreau, which might be 
misleading.' He is, of course, merely illus- 
trating there the relations of his subject to 
the otlier men with whom he came in contact, 
and cannot be dealt with so severely as if he 
bad left openings for his readers to receive 
wrong impressions as to his proper theme. 
Still, it is a vital error to lead in any way to 
the idea that Thoreau was a hermit, or that 
he permanently banished himself to Walden 
Wood to study trees, and beasts, and fishes, 
and to map out the land like a surveyor. 
He built a hut, it is true, with his own hands, 
and lived there for a time — fully two years 
it was — but the escapade, as some would caD 
it, of Walden, was never meant by Thoreau 
to be other than an interlude. And yet with 
us in England he is too much conceived of in 
this light, as a sort of setni-wild man of the 
woods, and, in our idea, is saved from being 
a wild man altogether only by a dash of finer 
initinct, which made him influential with 
the lower creatures, but divorced him totally 
from human society. Now, this is a wrong 
account of Thoreau altogether, and with a 
very acute and interesting volume in our 
hand, which is half biograpliy and half criti- 
cisro, from the pen of Dr. W, U. Channing, 
and of which we have been favoured with an 






early copy, we are fain to believe that we may 
be able to make various points respecting 
Thoreau somewhat plainer to English minds. 

First of all, consider how singular it was 
that just as American character was gettbg a 
new impulse towards worldly acnteness, and 
the surrender of strictly personal and spiritual 
traits, with the remarkable extension of peo- 
pled territory that gave the acnteness a new 
sphere to citercise itself in, there should 
come a fresh and powerful wave of transcen- 
dentalism that sought to assert individuality, 
and build it on a true basis, Thoreau was 
the representative of this on one side, just as 
Emerson and Hawthorne were representatives 
of it on other sides ; and, inst«ad of being 
divorced from the highest form of American 
development, he was, perhaps, its most faith- 
ful and consistent exponent For the teem- 
ing wealth of a new and illimitable country 
must ever, in the outset, oppose itself to the 
assertion of the individual genius, and essay 
(if we may speak so) to break it down to its 
own level, as the trees, growing freely yet 
closely together in the forest, preserve and 
foster each other, but rise very much of one 
size and all alike in form. Society in such 
conditions lives by the very reaction it breeds, 
for it is quite impossible to calculate the 
benefit to American life of the inconsistent 
deference practically paid by its professed 
republican members to royalty and aristo- 
cracy in every form. 

Hawthorne's works are, in essence, a pro- 
test against every kind of republican level- 
ling down. He sought, in the Puritan senti- 
ment which was supplied to American history 
with its relations to old English life, for tra- 
ditions that recalled the inherited mysteries 
and dooms of life — breeding distinctions — 
and from that root what a tree grew up in 
the atmosphere of his quaint genius '. Emer- 
son, again, found compensatmg forces in the 
solitude and the occupations possible only in 
a country which is new, and not yet pressed 
for breathinjj space ; and Thoreau, perhaps, 
more than either in the testimony which a 
real retirement from society could render to 
the highest idea of individuality, as the 
foundation -stone of a truly cultured society. 
Goethe said that when he needed to recruit 
himself for serious thought, be must retire into 
solitude ; and so it was with Thoreau, But 
it was the opposite idea to that of Rousseau, 
for instance, which led Thoreau to Watden, 
He went there not to escape men, but to pre- 
pare himself for them ; not to brood, but to 
act — only to act in lines that would enable 
bim to stand forever after — free, vigorous, 
independent. There is a strange, close-packed 
realism in his writing, thoroughly sympto- 
matic of the man and hb character, as 



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ISU. 

thou^ he specially followed Nature in her 
economy of seed-packing; and it sbould be 
obscn'ed that you never get hint of the re- 
cluse, who speedily falls to dreaming and 
vain pitying of himself. There is no self-pity 
in Tnoreau, rather a robust self-sufficiency 
that could claim the privilege of render- 
ing manly help, though never seeking or ac- 
cepting any, and that loves to administer 
readily what Emereon calls ' shocks of cfTorL' 
But there was in him nothing of the rebel 
proper; he delighted above all thioga to be 
at home, and to reverence, only you must 
allow him somethiqg of his own way. When 
ho refused to pay taxes after Government 
followed him to the forest, it was out of no' 
abstract opposition or dislike to society, — he 
was the last man to act from sentiments ; he 
a&aerted that there was still a sphere where 
Government had no right to follow if a man 
could only ficid and fix it, and where it did 
deiipite to itaeif by the asscrtiou of its power. 
Now, only in a country like America could 
such an idea be pat fairly to the test, however 
much it may be opposed to the democratic 
idea in itself, A rapid glance at the leading 
facts of Thoreau'a life will, perhaps, all the 
belter enable us to bring this out. 

Henry David Thoreau, who was bom in 
1817, was the youngest son of a French im- 
mipfrant, who was by trade a lead-pencil 
maker, and had achieved such a measure of 
success in his adopted country as to enable 
him to aim at giving his sons a thoroughly 
good education. Henry was sent to Harvard 
University while still young, and graduated 
in 1837 ; but be achieved little orno distinc- 
tion either at school or college. He had his 
own ways of looking at and doing things, 
and, as is not seldom the case with genius, 
he was somewhat stow at working his way to 
the end of a set problem, though once having 
done so, it was more than mastered. He 
would not fall into regular studies, and did 
not attract the masters, nor make friends of 
fellow-students, but lived a solitary life. On 
leaving college, he and an elder brother kept 
an academy at Concord for a year, or two ; 
and then he was noticeable for his love of 
rambling abroad in his spare hours, collect- 
ing npecimens of natural history. He was 
unlike the sentimentalist, especially in his 
capacity of attachment to locality, for at no 
place but Concord did he ever make a per- 
manent home, however much he loved to 
wander. The most important event of this 
period was a journey to the White Moud- 
tains with his brother John, which seemed to 
awaken in him new capacities of knowledge 
and pleasure. 

Of the school-teaching he at length got 
wearied, and then applied himself to his fa- 



JTeniy Thoreav, the Poet-Naturalist. 



95 

ther'a craft, obtaining certificates for having 
made a better pencil than any then in use ; 
and there is a characteristic story told, that 
he and his father, to show the excellence of 
tlieir work, resolved to make as good a pen- 
cil out of paste as those sawed from black- 
lead in London. The result was accom- 
plished and the certificate obtained ; Thoreiui 
himself claiming a good shore of the success, 
as he found the means to cut the plates. But 
more characteristic than all, perht^s, is the fact 
that, when he was congratulated on fortune's 
door being thus thrown wide open to him, he 
declared that he would not make another pen- 
cil, as he did not wish to do again what he 
had done once. At this his friends were, of 
course, greatly disappointed ; but he stood 
firm and adventured on other industries — 
making boats, building fences, and survey- 
ing, by which he made his own living — 
doing also a considerable amount of travel 
and observation during the next few years. 
His first hook, written during t^is time, grew 
out of a voyage on the ('oncord and Merri- 
mac rivers, which be made in 1 839, with his 
brother John, who sympathised with him in 
many of his tastes, but who died early, and 
whose death Thoreau deeply lamented. Of 
his * Walk to Wachusett in 1843,' he made 
interesting record in bis article under that 
title in the ' Boston Miscellany,' But all his 
studies only drew him to seek opportunities 
to carry them out yet more consistently and 
steadily. So he'took a great resolve, and in 
March of 1845 began the building of his hut 
at Wuldcn Wood, which, as often happens, 
because it has somewhat of an outre look, has 
occupied a wholly d proportion ate place in 
the genera! notion of "riioreau. ' Uy the mid- 
dle of April it was framed and ready for rais- 
ing,' and by the 4th of July — not without 
significance either, being Independence Day 
— he went into occupation. He had pur- 
chased the boards of an Irishman's shanty, 
and exults as he looks on bis finished work, 
that ' there is some of the same fitness in a 
man's building his own house that there isiu 
a bird's building its own nest.' 

And a right trim firm little abode it was, 
with its one cheerful window and detached 
offices, if we may at all credit the frontis- 
piece of his first work, ' Walden.' He can 
exult in the fact that, by habit, men can do 
with but little shelter, and vastly admires the 
Penobscot Indians, who have nothing but a 
thin tent between them and the snow, and do 
not sufi'er by it Tbns be finds that savage 
life attains in one primitive principle the 
equality which modern societies vainly yearn 
for — the poorest having as good a shelter as 
the highest ] Yet his hatred of waste and 
ehiftlessness was as notable as these other 



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Henry Thoreau, t/ie Foet-Naturaliat. 



Jan. 



traita, lie says in one place : — ' "niere is 
Tiune BO poor that he need sit on a pumpkin. 
That is sliiftlessnesa. There are plenty of 
Bucli chairs as I like best, to be had for the 
taking them away.' And it is very odd bi 
observe, amid his apparent indifference to 
wealth and self-interest, the really Yankee 
way in which he exults in being able-to pro- 
vide for himself with Lis own hands, so check- 
mating Nature as to have a balance over. 
Bis statement of accoants of the cost of the 
Waldcn hut is full of unconKoious humour. 
He recalls, with uatural complacency, that at 
Cambridge College the student pays for his 
room one dollar eighty-seven and n-balf cents 
each year more than his house hod cost him, 
and baa. thereupon some quaint reflections on 
true education. He congratulates himself on 
the absence of all ' baggi^e,' — ' traps,' as he 
says, the popular slang well calls it, and avows 
bis conviction that ' to maintain oneself on 
this earth is not a hardship, but a pastime, if 
we live simply and wisely,' — as the pursaita 
of tbe ' simple nations are etill the sports of 
the artificial.' 

And now he set himself to the practical 
application of bis own theones. . Having no 
human companions save occasional visitors — 
Emerson, one of his nearest neighbours, 
amongst them — bo honestly tried what tbe 
lower creatures could do for bim. And soon 
he and they were on most intimate terms. 
Tbe fishes came, as it seemed, into his band 
if he but dipped it in tbe stream ; tbe mice 
would comeand playfully cat out of his fingers, 
and the very mole paid him friendly visits; 
sparrows alighted on bis shoulder at his call ; 
phcebes built in his shed ; and the partridge 
with her brood came and fed quietly beneath 
his window as he sat and looked at them. 
And the more intimate he grows with his 
brute friends, the more his respect and love 
fortheni rises. He writes : — ' If we take the 
age into account, may there not be a civili- 
zation going on among brutes as well as men ? 
They seem to me to be rudimental, burrow- 
ing men, still standing on their defence, 
awaiting their transformation.' His writings 
in ' Walden ' arc like a discourse on the text, 
' The whole creation groaneth.' 

The fine sympathy of this man, his poetic 
life, deep love and yearning kindredship met 
and drew forth tbe inmost and the best in 
the brutes, and led them on to the trans- 
formation for which they were awaiting. 
Notice how different is Thorcaii's feeling for 
tbe dumb creatures from that which animates 
tbe common pet-keeper, who almost seems 
to aim at destroying the true brute nature, 
and the dun rudimentary humanity along with 
it, in order to make them little else than 
' snobs,' Thoreau, far from being in reac- 



tionary divorce from man, loves tbe animals 
because they are manlike, and seem to yearn 
towards human forms. And to him even in- 
animate nature looks manward in its constan- 
cies, if in nothing else. What a glimpse this 
passage from Dr. Channing gives us of the 

'Thoreau named all the birds without a gun, 
a weapon he never used in mature years. He 
neither kiJled nor imprisoned any animal, unless 
driven by acutn needs. He brought home a fly- 
ing squirrel, to study its mode of flight, but 
quickly carried it back to the wood. lie pos- 
aessed true instincts of topography, and could 
conceal choice things in thfe bush and find them 
again ; unlike Gall, who commonly lost his lo- 
cality and himself, is ho tells us, when in the 
wood, master as he was in playing on the or- 
gan. If Thoreau needed a box in his walk, he 
would strip a piece of birch bark off the tree, 
fold it, when cut straightlj, together, and put 
his tender lichen or brittle creature therein. 

Ajid, naturally, nothing afforded hira more 
delight than to observe the graceful pru- 
dence of animals. Tbe shifts to which he 
bad often to put himself to achieve thia 
knowledge without cruelty, perhaps did more 
than aught else to develop in him his won- 
derful, half-animal sagacities. Mr. Emer- 
son tells us that when once at Walden he 
visited 'Hioreau 

'The naturolist waded into the pool for the 
water plants, and his strong legs were no insig- 
niflcant part of bis armour. On this day he 
looked for the mcnyanthes and detected it 
across the wide pool \ and, on examination of 
the flnret, decUrcd that it had been iu flower 
five days. He drew out of his breast-pocket a 
diary, and read the names of all the plants that 
should bloom that day, whereof he kept account 
as a banker does when his notes are due.' . . 
. . . ' He could pace rods more accurately 
than another man could measure them with rod 
and chain. He could find his way in the woods 
st night better by his feet than by his eyes, 
lie knew every track iu the snow and on the 
ground, and what creature bad taken the path 
in the snow before hihi.' 



■ Alpine and sea-pkuts he admired, bcsidea 
those of his own Tillage : of the latter he mostly 
attended willowii, golden-rods, asters, polygo- 
nums, sedges, and grasses ; fungi and lichens 
be somewhat afieclcd. He was accustomed to 
date the day of the month by the appearance 
of certain flowers, and thus visited special 
plants for a series of years, in order to form an 
average ; as his whitethorn by Tarbell's Spring, 
" Good for to-morrow, if not for to-day," The 
bigness of noted trees, the number of ringa, the 
degree of branching by which their age may bo 
drawn ; thelargerforests, such as that princely 
"Inches Oak- Wood," in West Acton, or We- 
tberbee's patch, he paid attention to.' 



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1874. 



Henry Thortaii, the Poet- Nuturalist. 



Ilioresu's main purpoBe wan t) cxliibit 
the points where animnl instinct and ru- 
MorceB meet human affection and cirtuc, 
aod illustrate each other. The followiog is 
certainly well worth quoting in this Ugbt : — 

' Man conceitedly ntmeB theintelligeoce and 
industry of animus, instinct, anci overlookn 
their wisdom and fltness of behaviour. I saw 



Hubbard'H brook, I saw a grey squirrel, with 
an ear of yellow com, a foot long, sitting on a 
fence, fifteen rods from the field. He dropped 
the corn, but continued to sit on the roil, where 
I could hardly see him. it being of the same 
colour as himself, which I baTe no doubt he 
was well aware of. He next went to a red 
maple, where his policy was to conceal himself 
behind the stem, banging perfectly still there 
till 1 passed, his fur beiiw exactly the co- 
lour of the bark. When f struck the tree, 
and tried to frighten him, he knew better than 
to run to the next tree, there being no continu- 
ous row by which he might escape ; but he 
merely fled higher up, and put so many leaves 
between us that it was difficult to discover 
him. When I threw up a stick to frighten 
him, he disappeared entirely, though I kept 
the best watcti I could, and stood close to the 
foot of the tree. 

■ They are wonderfully cunning 1' 

BuKj- men and women — dwellere in cities, 
* people of society, who make the lower 
creatures practically serviceable — do undoubt- 
edly, in their passion for discipline and 
order in horses, dogs, and the rest, come to 
regard animal life as something so dependent 
on human character and cnort as to de- 
prive it of all real individual interest 
AgMnst this tendency Thoreau testified, 
just as he testified unreroittin<rly to the 
sacredness of human individnslity. Science 
Itseif — as generally understood — does not 
help us here, but rather comes in to confirm 
the artificial notion by absorbing the indivi- 
dual in the class — the species, the genus, the 
order. An over-pressed and over- cultivated 
social life, leaning on science, thus finally 
inflicts injury on itself by narrowing its 
sonrces of true interest ; and owes its gratj- 
tnde to the men who honestly recall it to 
Nature — to the Wordsworths, the Bewicks, 
the Tliorcans, the Blackburns, A face to 
face and duly intercourse with hor, in seek- . 
ing traces of the dim human instincts which 
she secma to shroud so strangely even in her 
most worthless productions, is a supremely 
healthy occupation or pastime ; since it de- 
velops sympathy, in enforcing the idea that 
some nrdinances of nature that man deems 
harsh may, after all, have a reference to 
wise and beautiful races other than human. 
And this has the best concurrence of Scrip- 
vou Lii. B— 7 



97 

ture. ' Not a sparrow falls to the ground 
without his permission.' With Thoreau ani- 
mals were rudimentary men ; and their hu- 
man aspect was that pre-eminently in which 
their individuality stood revealed. On this 
ground it was that he based their rights 
to freedom, to toleration, and to a healthier 
regard in their domesticated condition. 
Very significant in this light is a nohle pas- 
sage on tlie hor^ — the reader will see that 
the whole soul of Thoreau speaks in it : — 

' r saw a man a few days since, working by 
the river, with a horse, carting dirt ; and the 
horse and his relations to him stinick me as 
very remarkable. There was the horse, a 
more animated machine, though his tail j*as 
brushing off the flies, his whole condition sub- 
ordinated to the man's, with no tradition (per- 
haps no instinct) in him of a time when he was 
wild and free, — completely humanized. No 
contract had been made with him that he 
should 'have the Saturday afternoons, or the 
Sundays, or any holidays, hia independence 
never being recognized ; it being now quite 
forgotten both by man and horse, that the 
horse was ever free, ll'or I am not aware that 
there are any wild horses known surely not 
to be descended from tame ones. Ho was 
assisting that man to pull down that l>ank, and 
spread it over the meadow, only keeping off 
the flies with his tail, and stamping, and catch- 
ing a mouthful of grass or leaves from time to 
time on his own account ; all the rest for man. 
It seemed hardly worth while that he should be . 
animated for this. It ua» plain that the m™« 
Kits not educating the hcrte, not trying to dc- 
relop Ml TiatvTe, but merely getting leorh out of 

" Exiremee arecoanted worst of alL" 

That mass of animated matter seemed more 
completely the servant of man than any inani- 
mate. For slaves have Xhoir holidays ; a 
heaven is conceded to them (such as it iB*) ; 
but to the horse, none. Now and for ever, he 
is man's slave. ITtt more I eonMidered, the 
more the mart teemed alcin to thehoree. only hia 
will leai the ttronger of the tieo ; for a little 
further on 1 saw an Irishman shoveling who 
evidently wan as much tamed as the horse. 
He had stipulated that a certain amomit of his 
independence be recognised ; and yet he was 
really but a litUe more independent. What i$ 
a harie but on animal that hat loet ill liberty ; 
and has man got any more liberty for hiteing 
robbed the horie; or hat hejuit loHae much of 
hie own, and become more like the hone he hui 
robbed t Is not the other end of the bridle, 
too, coiled around his neck f Hence stable- 
boys, jockeys, and all that class that are daily 
transported by fast horses. There he stood 
with Lis oblong, square figure (his tail mostly 
sawed off), seen against the water, brtishing off 
the flies with his stump braced back, while the 
man was filling the cart 



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Henry TTioreau, the Poet-Naturalitt. 



Jan. 



' I r^ard the horse is ft human being in a 
humble eUte of existence. Virtue is not left 
t4) stand alone. He who pnctides it will have 
neighbours.' 

Never, pcrhapB, were the claims of the 
horse, and indirectly of all the domestic 
animals, more powerfully pot; and here we 
kiavc disclosed to ns clearly the poiat at 
which, with Thoreaa. the mystery of animal 
life touched that of man and raises it up to 
nearly equal interest, only, however, to in- 
crease tenfold the meaning and wonder of 
that to which hi:* was allicoL 

Some time after Thoreau's return from 
Walden his father died, and then, in spite of 
tlie protest he had made, he returned to the 
lead-pencil making, at the call of liuty, de- 
voting himself to it with>wonderful assiduity. 
He had his own mill, and discovered remark- 
able punctuality and pnidencc. All his 
spare time was spent in following up his own 
bent in excursions here and there — the most 
notable of which was perhaps his great tonr 
to Minnesota uid the West, in 1860, when 
he CKulted in finding the crab-apple, and in 
making friends with the Indians, who inte- 
rested nim vastly. In Novemberof 1860 he 
took a severe cold, through ecpoeing himself 
while counting the rings on trees, and when 
there was snow on the ground, lie never 
got over the shock, thou<{h he lingered till 
the spring, and he died on the morning of 
the 8th of May, 1861. 

Thoreau was a naturalist, because he was 

Gimarily a poet — and hence the fitness of 
r. Channing'a title ' Poet- Naturalist' He 
held things by inner affinities, rather than 
by hard classlficatjotis. Instincts and habits 
were ever of more account with him than the 
mere organs and functions, whose expressions 
he held that tbeso were, and nothing more. 
Yet he was observant of these also, and was 
seldom out in a matter of fact or calculation. 
Correctness in details, surprising padence, 
and a will that nothing could defeat or em- 
barrass, held in closest union nith fine imagi- 
nation, without sense of contradiction — this 
was his first characteristic. His grand quali- 
ty was sympathy. He came to everything 
with the poet's feeling, the poet's heart, the 
poet's eye, To observe was his joy. What 
pictures he can draw of wholly uninteresting 
places and things I What loving raptnre ho 
falls into over uie commonest appearances ! 
What new metaphors he finds lurking in 
ordinary sylvan occurrences I The common 
ongoings of nature were to him a mighty 
parable, and he set some part of it to ade- 

3uate music, to which we may list«n with 
elight and leam wisdom. And as he 
brought sympathy with him towards every 
persun he met and every object he eismised, 



so he demanded it in those he encountered, 
though he had an utter horror of false pro- 
fessions of it. Therefore, like a Scotchman 
in this, he was prone to hide it under 
bnisquene^s till you kneta him. ^ut, as 
flowers expand in the sun, his soul expanded 
in the glow of innocent delights, till even his 
senses seemed transfigured and benimantly 
endowed with special sensibilities and attrac- 
tions. He was fond of children, and had 
unusual tact with them, as every one who 
ever attended any of his parties attest 
' Hermit and stoic as he was,' says Emerson, 
' he was really fond of sympathy, and threw 
himself heartily and childlike into the com- 
pany of young people whom he loved, and 
whom he delighted to entertain, as he only 
could, with the varied and endless anecdotes 
of bis experience in field and river. And he 
was always ready to lead a huckleberry party 
or a search for chestnuts and grapes.' Yet 
he is always wonderfully self -restrained and 
self-respecting. He makes a poem out of 
tJie most ordinary object, event, or incident ; 
but be will be the last to celebrate it as such ; 
and, while some men seek a climax, he de- 
spised rhetoric and all conscious aims at 
effect. This passage on telegraph posts may 
be taken as a specimen of his finest vein, 
showing bis keen interest in all that concern- 
ed human progress: — 

' What a recipe for preservinf; wood, to fill ita 
pores with music 1 How- this wild tree from 
the forest, stripped of Its bark and set up hcre^ 
rejoices to transmit this music. When no 
melody proceeds from the wire, t hear the bum 
within the entrails of the wood, the oracular 
tree, rejoicing accuihuUting the prophetic fury. 
The resounding wood, — how much the ancients 
would have made of it I To have had a harp 
on so great a scale, girdling the very earth, and 
played on by the win^s of every latitude and 
longitude, and that harp were (so to speak) the 
manifest blessing of heaven on a work of man's. 
Shall we not now add a tenth Muse to those 
immortal Nino, and consider that this invention 
was most divinely honoured and distinguished, 
upon which the Huse has thus condescended 
to smile, — this magic medium of communication 
to mankind T To read that the ancients 
stretched a wire round the earth, attaching it 
to trees of the forest, on which they sent mes- 
sagoa by one named Eloctridty, father of Light- 
ning and Magnetism, swifter far than Mercury, 
t—thc stern commands of war and news of 
peace ; and that the winds caused this wire to 
vibrate so that It emitted barp-Iike and jf!o1ian 
music in all the lands throi^h which it passed, 
as if to express Ihe satisfaction of God in the 
invention I And this is fact, and yet we have 
attributed the instrument to no Qod. I hear 
the sound of the wood working terribly within. 
When I put my ear to it, anon it swells into a 
clear tone, which seems to concentrate in the 
core of the tree, for all the sound seems to pn>- 



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1BV4. 

ceed ftwn the wood. It is as if jou had enter- 
ed fiOine world-CAthedral, resounding to some 
vast organ. The flbres of &]1 things have their 
tension and are stnined like the strings of a 
l)'re. I feel the very ground tremble underneath 
mv feet as I stand near the post. The wire 
Titrates with great force as if it would strain 
and rend the wood. What an awful and fate- 
ful music it must be to the worms in the wood. 
No better vermifuge were needed. As the 
wood of an old Cremona, its every fibre, per- 
diance. harmoniously tempered, and educated 
to resound melodj, has brought a great price; 
BO, methinks, these telegraph posts should bear 
a great price with musical -in strum eat makers. 
It is prepared to be the material of harps for 
ages to come ; tu it leere, pvt a-m>ah. 



And again : — 

* As the woodchuck dines chiefly on crickets, 
he will not be at much exMnse in seats for his 
winter- quarters. Since the anatomical discove- 
ry that the thymoid gland, whoso use in man 
is nihil, is for the purpose of promoting diges- 
tion during the hibernating jollifications of the 
woodchuck, wo sympathize less at the retreat. 
Darwin, who hibernates in science, cannot yet 
have heard of this use of the above gland, or 
he vrould have derived the human race from 
our woodchuck, instead of landing bin flat on 
the Siraltidm, or monkey.' 

As a piece of elcviited noble description, 
with lights of true poetry transfusing it, no- 
thing could be finer than thb description of 
a. snow-fall :— 

' Did you ever admire the steady, silent, 
windless fall of the snow, in some lead-coloured 
sky. silent save the little ticking of the flakes 
as they touched the twigs ? It h chased silver, 
moulded over the pines and oak leaves. Soft 
shades hang like curtains along the closely- 
dmped wood-paths. Frozen apples become 
little cider-vats. The old, crooked apple-trees, 
frozen stiff in the pale, ahivering sunlight, that 
appears to be dying of consumption, gleam 
forth like the heroes of one of Danto's cold 
hells ; we would mind any change in the mer- 
cury of the dream. The snow crunches under 
the feet ; the chopper's axa rings funereally 
through the tragic air. At early room the 
frost on button-bushes and willows was silvery, 
and every stem and minutest twig and filamen- 
tary weed came up a silver thing, while the 
cott^^ smoke rose salmon-coloured into that 
oblique day. At the base of ditches were 
shooting crystals, like the blades of an ivory- 
handled penknife, and rosettes and favours 
fretted of silver on the flat ice. The little cas- 
cades in the brook were ornamented with trans- 
parent shields, and long candelahrums and 
cpermaceti-coloured fools' caps and plated jellies 
and white globes, with the black water whirling 
along transparently underneath. The sun 
comes out, and all at aglance, rubies, sapphires, 



Henry Thoreav, the Poet-Ifatur^i^. 



09 

diamonds, and emeraldA-start into intense life 
on the angles of the snow crystals.' 

Witli Thoreau, in one word, everythina; is 
seen in relation to human BCntiment and fit- 
ness. He is a reconciler. His great aim ia 
to recommend Nature to Man — to prove her 
worthy of the recomjnendation, and so in- 
duce and enhance the idea of individuality 
— which, in the midst of all her masses ana 
mighty generalities, she everywhere f^thful- 
ly celebrates. Thoreau went to Nature an 
individualist, and came back the prophet of 
society, as truly reconstructed, with liberty 
as its groundwork — bnt liberty which would 
give no quarter to licence of any kind. 
Sobriety, severity, and self-respect, founda- 
tion of all true sociality, are bis motto. He 
himself saya : — 

' I think I lore society as mudi as most, and 
am ready enough to fasten myself like a blood- 
sucker for the time to any full-blooded man 
that comes in my way. / am naturally no 
hermit, but might possibly sit out the sturdiest 
frequenter of the bar-room if my buslnetis 
called me thither.' 

It was quite conmstent with this that he 
should hate elavery — should speak nobly 
and uficeadngly for the vaUant John Brown, 
of Harper's Ferry, His heart beat tnie for 
human rights, though he vras wont to apeak 
depreciatingly of professed philanthropists, 
who were apt to ignore brpad distinctions 
where he maintained them — distinctions, 
too, which he held were essential to be re- 
cognised in view at once of social well-being 
and true individuality. In fact Thoreau 
was a man of high and ready public spirit, 
though he declined to bo interested iu the 

EettT machinery of forced and over-beated 
ical politics, just as Emerson tells us that 
he listened impatiently to news or bon-mot» 
gleaned from London circles ; and that 
though he tried to be civil, these anecdotes 
fatigued him. Wrapt up with his apparent 
disregard of ol^ancies, he had with oira a 
marked air of elegance which could consist 
without accessories. ' lie was short of sta- 
ture, firmly built, of light complexion, se- 
rious blue eyes . (right well opened), and a 
grave aspect^' So says Emerson, and the 
portrait given at the opening of the * Excur- 
sions' justifies the words. The expression is 
at once so shrewd, so spiritual — the Yankee 
traits really there, yet refined away in ear- 
nest thought and wise foresight. 1'he eyes 
so soft and thoughtful, yet so wondiou-sly 
penetrating, so expressive of sharp mother- 
wit and kindliness and generosity without 
stint ; the nose so full, yet so senutive in 
the nostril ; the mouth so expressive of reso- 
lution and self-respecting calmness ; and the 



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Henry Thoreau, (he JPoet-NaturalUU 



forehead a round, risiog arcb, bespeakbg 
fervid imaginatioD. Such waa Thoreau — 
one of tbe most vigorous, iodcpendent, and 
true-hearted of Americans, who vould easi- 
ly have been turned into a martyr, notwitb- 
standing that he held so lightly by formulas. 
His cutting brusqueness, of which even his 
dearest friends sometimea made mention, 
arose out of the seriousness and severity of 
his nature, which abhorred all triviality and 
vain conversation, and which, combined 
with such keen ima^ nation and fiery hatred 
of wrong as characterized him, is always a 
miun ingredient in heroism. What could 
ba finer than his own account of himself, 
when he was east into the Slate prison, be- 
cause of that quarrel over the taxes, which 
he would not pay : — 

' ' I saw that if there was a stone wall be- 
tween me and my townsmen, there was a still 
more difficult one to climb or break through 
before they could get to be as free as I was. 1 
did not for a moment feel confined, and the 
walls seemed a great wasle of stone and mor- 
tar. 1 felt aa if I alone of all my townsmen 
had paid my tax. They plainly did not know 
how to treat me, but behaved like persons who 
are underbred. In every threat and in every 
compliment there wss a blunder, for they 
thought that my chief desire was to stand on 
the other side of that stone wall. I could not 
but smile to see how industriously they locked 
the door on my meditations, which followed 
them out again without let or hindrance, and 
the;/ were really all that was dangerous. As 
they could not reach me, they had resolved to 
punish my body ; just as hoys, if they cannot 
come at any person at whom tliey have a 
grudge, will abuse his d<^.' 

Never was the Puritan idea of freedom of 
soul better illustrated — unless perhaps by 
John Bunyan, in Bedford Jail. Thoreau, 
on a point of right, would have fought, and 
borne all indignity. In this case his frieuds 
came to his rescue, and he went free. 

Probably it was this quality of sclf-sufii- 
cicnce, associated as it was with such won- 
derful clearness of aim and skill in finding 
easy means to att^n the end in view, which 
made Mr. Emerson signalize his practical 
ability in this regretful strain : — 

' With his energy and practical ability he 
seemed born for a great enterprise and for 
command ; and I so much r^ret the loss of his 
rare powers of action that I cannot help count- 
ing it a fault in him that he had no ambition. 
Wanting this, instead of engineering for all 
America, he was the captain of a huckleberry 
party. Pounding beans is good to the end of 
pounding empires one of these days ; but if at 
the end of the years it is still only beans 1 . . .' 



Jan. 



Of fine sayings bis books are full. No 
more dainty fancy, or power of exactly 
preaenling the imago of what lay in his 
own mind, has any recent writer possessed 
in greater measure. And a sudden humour, 
like summer lightning, plays over his pages. 
We conid easily fill many pages ; let these 
few sentences suffice : — 

* The keeping of bees is like the directing of 
sunbeams.' (• Paradise [to be] Regained.') 

* I say beware of all enterprises that require 
new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of 
clothes.' 

* You must have stout legs to get noticed at 

all by Carlyle He indicates a depth 

which he neglects to fathom.' 

In the essay on walking, he says : — 

' We are but faint hearted crusaders ; even 
the walkers nowaday undertake no persever- 
ing world's-end enterprises. Our expeditions 
are but tours, and come round again at evening 
to the old hearth-side from which we set out. 
Katr of the walk is but retracing our steps. 
We should go forth on the shortest walks, per- 
chance, in the spirit of stirring adventure, 
never to return, — prepared to send back our 
embalmed hearts only us relics to our desolate 
kingdoms. .... If you have paid yoyr debts 
and made your will, and settled all your 
affairs, and are a free man, then you are ready 
for a walk.' 

And in his poems there is often a rarity 
and chastity of expression, and a quality 
snch aa we seldom meet with, as these few 
specimens will show : — 



'The golden-rod and aster stain the scene 
With hue of earth and sky.' 

The gossamer motionless hung from the spray, 
Where the weight of the dewdrops bad torn it 

And the seed of the thistle, that whisper could 

Aloft on his wheel, as tho' borne on the wing. 
When the yellow-bird severed it, dipping serosa 
Its soft plumes unruffled fell down on the moss.' 

' The last butterfly 
Like a wing'd riolct floating in tlie meek 
Pink-coloured sunshine, sinks his velvet feet. 
Within the pillared mulleins' delicate down.' 

We take leave of Thoreau with lingering 
regret, conscious that to have unfolded his 
character and aims fully would havo re- 
quired an abler pen than onrs, and also far 
larger space than is allotted to us. Ills cha- 



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Mr. Mill's Autobiography. 



ractor was like those eeasidc flowera which 
nnell the sweeter and grow the purer in 
that they are toached by the rongb sea-salt 



Abt. IX. — Aulobioffrapki/. By John 
Stdart Mill. London : Long^nans and 

John Stuart Mill was born in London on 
the 25lh of May, 1806. lie entered thu 
world at n stirring time. England was in 
the thick of the conflict with Napoleon. 
The countrv had just lost two of her great- 
est men. Nelson had fallen at Trafalgar. 
The voice of Titt was no longer heard in 
the meeting of the senate, tn the council 
chamber of the king ; and yet the fight was 
growing more deadly, and the time more 
critical. The excitement of home affairs 
gathered round the eflorts of the aboUtionists 
to destroy for ever the traffic in slaves. How 
little the worid thought that the infant child 
of a then unknown Scotch adventurer would 
have so much to say to which England woold 
give good heed, alike on behalf of the Ite- 
public which men were hating, and the liber- 
ty against which they fought, 

He was the eldest son of James Mill, the 
wctl-known Indian historian, and the author 
of the ' Analysis of the Human Mind.' 
Born north of the Tweed, James Mill, like 
80 many of his fellow-countrymen who give 
signs of remarkable power, was intended for 
the ministry of the Church of Scotland. His 
son informs us that he was licensed as a 
preacher. It ia probable, therefore, tbat he 
had ' exercised his gifts.' But as the youth- 
ful licentiate early made the discovery that 
all religion was an intellectual hluTidcr, and 
that God himself was a moral absurdity, not 
to say a serious mischief, it was clear that 
he could not pursue the course of a Chris- 
tian minister in the Scotch Kirk. He be- 
came a private tutor for some years, and 
then passing southward, as under all circum- 
stances, national and individual, was very 
natural, found his resting-place in London, 
and his living in writing for the press. 

Some of the contradictions found in the 
history of the two Mills arc very entertain- 
ing. For philosophers, they certainly pre- 
sent lives of strangely unphilosophic incon- 
sistency. It is remarkable that the very 
patent want of harmony between doctrines 
and hfe which in' several instances is indi- 
cated by the autobiography, did not lead the 
acute mind of the writer either to question 
the theory or to reform the life. Mr. James 



101 

Mill ' married and had a large family.' 
What vials of wrath liave not been outpour- 
ed upon the stupid people who commit snch 
sins against the laws of human life by the 
masters and disciples in the school of (he 
Mills. It would seem, indeed, that the sign- 
post which points, but goes not, is a symbol 
of the sj^e as well as of the preacher. It is 
not every wicked transgressor of the ordi- 
nances of political economy who finds a pro- 
vidence BO tender and so heneficent as the 
once flourishing East India Company.. 

James Mill was a man of remarkable na- 
tural power, and altogether wonderful ener- 
gy. Tlie son is betrayed into adjectives un- 
usual in his style when he describes his 
father's devotion to work. To his honour 
let it be recorded that though ' he broke the 
law of Malthus,' he supported his family 
without ever incurring debt. After all, per- 
haps the real sin is not the formation of 
those pressing tics and multitudinous claims, 
but the self-indulgence and sloth which neg- 
lect the provision which every man ought to 
make for his own household. The ' Super- 
stitions of the Nursery,' spite of the denun- 
ciations of James Mill, may still be the tnic 
law of human life. The vagaries of the 
economist are only the precepts of a truer 
morality taken with a twist. 

The usual clearness of Mr. Mill's style ia 
lost when he speaks of his father's honesty 
of conviction, and its strong expression as 
increasing the difficulty of his posilion. His 

' It would have been no small thing had he 
done no more than support himself and liis 
family during so many jears without ever 
being in debt or any pecuniary difficulty, 
holding as be did opinions both in politics 
and in reli^on,which were more odious to all 
persons of influence, and to the common mn 
of prosperous Englishmen in that generation, 
than eithorbefore or since; and being not only 
a man whom nothing would have induced to 
write against his convictions, hut one who in- 
variably threw into everything he wrote as 
much of his convictions at ha thought tht «>- 
cum»tancet tcould i/t any way permit.' 

Tlie line we have italicised certainly dis- 
plays caution worthy of a son of one who 
was at once a philosopher and a Scot; and 
we find a little farther on that 'in 
giving ' his son ' an opinion ' (upon the sub- 
ject of religion) ' contrary to that of the 
world,' the ' father thought it neeesary to 
give it as one which could not prudently be 
avowed.' 

It is clear, then, tbat with all his convic- 
tion, the elder Mill had not the course of 
his convictions; and even if he had, 'the 
persons of influence' to whom his views 



Jfr. Mili'e Autobiography, • 



102 

were so odiouH were found quite ready to 
reward liis undoubted power and^iudustry 
with a very comfortable post in tlie India 
House, securing for bimsclf and for Ills son 
nfter him that hnppy combination of good 
pay and easy work, which has always ena- 
bled the destructive philosophy to ride a tilt 
dgainat every arrangement of society with 
the pleasant conviction, should the attack be 
auceessful, that revolutions, in this coun- 
try at all events, arc reforms, and that Eng- 
lish reforms always generously regard and 
indemnify all vested interests. We arc 
quite ready to recognise and admire the he- 
roism of unbelief, but we could find many 
pictures of conscientious fidelity to convic- 
tions in lowly parsonage and impoverished 
manse wLich would outvie in the character 
of courage and truthfulness the negative 
opinions of philosophers who, on the whole, 
have found even atheistic philosophy no bad 
trade. 

James Mill appears to have early discover- 
ed the intellectual capabilities of his eldest 
son. He determined at once upon a course 
tif rigorous mental discipline. Perhaps he 
looked forward to the education of one who 
should be the interpreter of his opinions to 
the coming generation, for the ex-licentiate 
of the Scotch Church never lost the sense of 
a mission such as burns in the bosom of the 
preacher. James Mill was an apostle as 
well as a thinker, and he resolved that bis 
son should be an apostle likewise, but with 
a training free from the old superstitions 
which had gathered about his own youth. 
Tlie ago was rolling into the domain of 
mind. Pure intellect was to govern, to re- 
generate. Logic and the pnnciples of a 
moral arithmetic should dominate the new 
era. If it were possible, his son should be 
the king in this new world, another Messiah 
for the ago of Eeaion. 

Here commences one of the saddest sto- 
ries which literature contains — the education 
of the mind of John Stuart Mill by his 
father. Wo turn eagerly and aeek for a 
word that indicates affection, tehdemess, the 
culture of the finer sensibilities, the deeper 
instincts of the soul. We seek for reference 
to a mother's almighty grace of love, to the 
general play of home fancies, the intercourse 
of brother, slater, friend. Not a word. The 
sacred name of mother is never mentioned 
in the book,'and had theautobiographernot 
told us that ho was the eldest son in a large 
family, we should have supposed that the 
mother had died when he was bom, and bo 
deeply did the father feel his Dnutterablc 
loss, that the name was enshrined in a 
sacred silence. Brothers and sisters, indeed, 
are mentioned, bat only as unwilling pupils 



e prodigy, who evidently him 
about the teaching which be 



Jan. 
himself 



of the little p 
cared little a 
to give them under his father's eye. That 
John Stuart Mill was a man of tenderest 
feeling and most exquisite sympathies, no 
one who knew him, even in the far-off dis- 
tance of his works, can for a moment doubt. 
But that be preserved a heart at all, after 
the tr^ning which his father gave him, is 
only more convincing proof of the natural 
sweetness and moral beauty of the man. In- 
deed, had wii not his own word tor it, we 
should strongly doubt alike the multitudi- 
nousneas of the studies and the inhumanity 
of the teacher. Not that James Mill was 
cruel and harsh. lie was simply unlovely. 
The picture drawn by his son apparently, 
indeed, quite unconscious of the effect that 
would be produced in the reader's estimate 
of his father, is that of a teaching machine 
— grinding, driving, planing, trimming, and 
at last turning out a keen, sharp, polished 
instrument, as nmch a distortion of what the 
real John Stuart Mill would have become 
under a generons, human education, as if ho 
had been allowed to nin wild in the green 
lanes of Newington, or consort with the silli- 
est boys in the grammar achools of the city. 

At the age of three Mr. Mill was learning 
Greek. By the time he was seven he hod 
read as much as many a graduate has gone 
through when he has taken his degree. At 
twelve ho had mastered the best known wri- 
ters in Latin and Greek, and could boast an 
acquaintance with those authors which 
would not disgrace a scholar who made pre- 
tensions to extensive classical attainments. 
Besides these, he gives a long list of English 
works. Most of this was accomplished at 
his father's study table, while the 'History 
of British India' was being composed, or in 
walks along the green lanes of Stoke New- 
ington, which were agreeably enlivened by 
the small student's discourses <m what he 
had learned the day before, while the more 
laborious hours were diversified by excur- 
sions into Roman history, and practice in the 
composition of English verse. 

It is quite impossible to pursue the story 
of this remarkable, probably unique educa- 
tion, or rather instruction and rigorous dis- 
cipline, into all its parts, and along its entire 
course. At the age of twelve (we arc thankful 
the little urchin was allowed even that mercy) 
he commenced the study of logic, and was 
thoroughly drilled in the fonns and exercises 
of the schools ; his Latin and Greek were 
kept up by the constant perusal of authors 
in those languages ; sttcntion was paid to 
elocution and composition ; and special 
streaa is laid upon the admirable results 
which flowed from the peruaal of the ' His- 



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Mr. MilFt Autobiography, 



1S7*. 

tory of India,' wbich was 'published in tito 
year 1818. Its historic worth, it8 powerful 
argnmcntation, its fine treatment of political 
and social questions, all combined to render 
it very induenttal in the discipline of Mill's 
youthful powers and the formation of his 
opinions. Too much stress seems to be 
placed npon the very plain-epoken character 
of tbn work as prf<judicial to the interest of 
the author. It is certain thut in the year 
following its publtuation the elder Mill was 
chosen one of the assistants of tlie exami- 
ners of Indian correspondence. If the work 
is of so stringent and severe a complexion, 
it is clear that the East India directors were 
influenced in their choice only by the worthi- 
ness of the candidate, and in this case the 
implication is not just that English officials 
are unwilling to hear and stern to avenge 
any criticism upon their conduct and aims. 
But one of the defects of Mill'd character, as 
brought out in the autobiography, and pro- 
bably prodnced by the education nhich his 
father gave him, was & somewhat petulant 
impatience with the nMnners of his nation, 
and a certainly unjusi depreciation of the 
worth and wholesomeness of Eni^Iish 
thought and society. His lessons bad been 
learned in a school which, indeed, disciplin- 
ed the mind and evolved theories most in- 
dustricusly, but did little or nothing to teach 
Lim what hix fellow-men were, and how 
they felt, and -ytbt^i they required. Tlie 
East India Company's office, and the work 
of writing despatches, were in after life not 
much better preparation for one who wished 
to be a critic, and reformer of English cus- 
toms and institutions. 

When Mill was about fourteen years of 
age, he had the advantage of a year's resi- 
dence on the Continent. A visit to Ben- 
tham's brother at Pompignan introduced 
liim to the beautiful scenery of the South of 
Pmnco and the Pyrenees. This aided in the 
cultivation of the oisthetic side of his nature, 
wliile, during this stay of a twelve-month, he 
was enabled to master tlie language, and 
read much of French literature. lie attend- 
ed lectures on science, metaphysics, and 
logic, and studied the higher mathematics. 
But according to his own estimate, the 
. greatest advantage which he derived from 
this episode was having breathed the free 
and genial atmosphere of Continental life. 

One of the most remarkable Englishmeii 
of the last generation was Jeremy Bentham. 
A precocious child, he belied the usual law 
of such childhoods by growing into a still 
more wonderful man. At seven years of ^c 
the principle of utility dawned upon his mind 
when reading Telemacbus. For twenty- 
three years he was engaged in forming opi- 



103 

nions, with this great ruling principle as t)>e 
centre around which all might cluster. The 
remaining fiftv be spent in promulgating this 
doctrine, in reforming all institutions, in ma- 
nufacturing codes and constitutions for any 
people who were in want of such useful arti- 
cles of life, and in gathering about him a 
party or a sect who disbelieved in everybody 
but themselves and Bentham, and were 
sworn to apply Benthamism to all social and 
national problems. Bentham's father would 
have made him a lawyer. Bentham's disci- 
ples have almost made him a god. Spite of 
the queer English which he wrote, the 
almost buffoonery in which he sometimes 
indulged, the eicessivo conceit of the teach- 
er and the abject submission of the taught, 
there is not the slightest doubt that Jeremy 
Bentham has exercised a most beneficial in- 
fiuence upon the thought of this generation, 
especially in quickening action in relation to 
great moral and legislative reforms. 

One of the earliest of Bentham's English 
disciples was Mr. James Mill. Tliey were 
very friendly, and in this intercourse the 
younger Mill largely shared. Tlie reading 
of the * Traits de Legislation ' was an epoch 
in his life, as it has been in the intellectual 
history of many a student of that notewor- 
thy book, ' The greatest happiness ' princi- 
ple had already become the standard by 
which the clever youth was taught to test 
all things. The freedom from sentiment, 
' law of nature,' ' right reason,' ' moral sense.' 
wiiioh hod been partially given by the teach- 
ing of his father, was more completely at- 
tained in the influences of Bentham andhiii 
writings. In the estimation of Mill their 
destructive force was a deluge, so far as all 
former moralities were concerned. Tliejr 
constructive power was the ark which was 
to save him and all other philosophic beings 
who might serve to rauitiplv and replenish 
the coming new order. Classification was 
now appli^ to the most complex forms of 
moral worth or delinquency. There was 
opened a wide prospect not only of intellec- 
tual achievement but also of practical good. 
The young Bcnthamist was an enthusiast in 
the hope that general utility vould be the 
magic power to convert the world, to cast 
out the evil spirits, and to bring in the new 
and glorious time. lie was already a man, 
or rather boy of learned acquirements, many 
theories, much speculation. Tlie structure 
of his mental being had been most rapidly 
and most completely raised, and it only 
needed Bentham's maxim clearly appre- 
hended and fully accepted to be the ' key- 
stone' of the arch ' which held logethor the 
detached and fr^mentary component parts 
of his knowledge and beliefs.' It was more 



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Mr. Mik*i Aiitohiography, 



Jan. 



than an opinion — it became s creed. It 
Riigbt have received the high Hounding 
name of a pliilosophy. Mill himself calls it 






sof 



the word, that is ti> say, it wasaprincipleto 
inculcate and diffuse which a whole life 
might be well spent. 

Mill waa especially influenced at this time 
by a work published under the name of 
Philip Beauchamp, called ' Analysis of the 
Infliienee of Natural Keli^on on the Tempo- 
ral Happiness of Maokind.' Tliis book was 
an examination of religious belief in the 
light of the newly-found prijieipla of utility. 
It did not treat of any special revelation, 
hut had simply to deal with the smallest 
fragment of faith which might still linger in 
the mind of a natural deist. Mill does not 
explicitly state the effect of the work upon 
him, but apparently it must have tended to 
confirm him in that absolute unreligious 
state of mind which his father had taken 
sueh pains to cultivate. It is indeed a 
Htriking picture. The lad of sixteen, who 
has almost exhausted the stores of learning, 
who is perfectly practised in analysis and 
thought, irho has found a philosophy which 
brings all his opinions and beliefs into a 
well-rounded sphere, and has finally decided 
to do without any religion, to live altogether 
without a faith ! 

Among the friends with whom he was 
most familiar at this period of his life two 
deserve special and prominent regard, the 
one from his world-wide fame and jiislly- 
eamed renown, the other from the profound 
and far-reaching influence which he has exert- 
ed. The first of these was Mr. George Grotc. 
He waa the son of a London banker, who did 
all iu liis power to bind liiin to the monoto- 
nous and unphilosophic tasks of the bank 
house counter. Though he ably discharged 
the duties of the oflice, Mr. fcrote never 
ceased the studies which had commenced in 
the Charterhouse, and which at length plac- 
ed him in the very first rank of English his- 
torians. He had been introduced to James 
Mill by Ricardo, and was at once entranced 
by the nhilosoplier's splendid powers. He 
enrolled himself almost immediately as one 
of James Mill's ardent admirers and disci- 
ples. Quite alive to the faults of manner 
and spirit which detracted from the perfect- 
noss of Mill's intellectual companionship, he 
yet could not fail highly to regard the wis- 
dom and acutoncss of this remarkable man. 
He imbibed Mill's antipathies aa well as his 
opinions There was a peculiar scorn and 
batred of the ruling classes in the heart of 
the Indian official, and, tc^ether with this, 
he entertained a lively prejudice against the 
Established Church, li he had not the po- 



sitive faith, he had at least the negative de- 
testation of the most fanatical dissenter. 
These two hati'eds Mr. Grote most success- 
fully caught, and although his opinions were 
greatly modified and his spirit much soften- 
ed as he passed through middle age and ap- 
proached the close of his life, to the la.st he 
retained traces of the influence which fifty 
years before he bad first experienced from 
intercourse with James Mill. He was at this 
period busily engaged at the bank, but spent 
much of his leisure time in the company of 
his new teacher. The Toryism of his father 
and the Evangelical sentiments of his mo- 
ther, were of little avail against the white 
hot logic and radical fervour of Mill. 
Though some rears the senior of the son, he 
enjoyed his company and conversation, and 
Mill very properly and gracefully makes an 
acknowledgment of tJie obligations under 
which he lay to the fine intellectual and 
moral influence of Mr. Grote. 

The other person to whom refurence is 
made above was Jolui Austin, late Professor 
of Jurisprudence in ^liversity College, who, 
after serving in the army, until the estab- 
lishment of peace, sold his commission and 
entered as a student for the bar, in the stu- 
dies of which be laid the foundation for 
that work which he afterwards performed 
as a teacher and writer on jurisprudence. 
Like Coleridge, Austin was gifted with re- 
markable powers of speMfl' Ho had pecu- 
liar mental force, and this was combined 
with an intensity of feeling and an appear- 
ance of resen-ed force of will which render- 
ed personal intercourse with him of the very 
highest intellectual and moral worth. Uis 
books arc unhappy examples of unfinished 
work. But his occasional conversations wore 
amongst the finest educational influences 
which his contemporaries enjoyed. The ef- 
fect of his teaching and personal character 
upotv John Stuart Mill is quite incalculable. 
By his own showing it was evidently quite 
unique, and perhaps second only to that of 
his father and Mr. Bentham. 

Amongst others in the intellectual circle 
into which he was introduced, were Charles 
Austin, Maeanlay, Hyde, Cliarlcs Yilliers, 
Lord Helper, Romilly, Eyton Tooke, Ellis, 
Geoi^e Graham, and John Arthur Iloebuck. ■ 
In May, 1823, he obtained an appointment 
in the office of Examiners of Indian Corre- 
spondence, where he advanced by the usual 
steps of seniority until, the year before the 
dissolution of the old Company, he reached 
the highest post in his oHicc, and was made 
examiner. How far the writing of despatch- 
es for the East India Company would help a 
man to become a reformer in England may 
be a very fair question for debate. 



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ifr. MilCs Autabioffraphy. 



1874. 

It is quite certain tKat Mr. Mill at least 
considered his official poBitinn to have been 
of considerable value to him as a theoretical 
reformer of the opinions and institiitiona of 

Twenty years before this time some young 
spiritA in the northern capital had conceived, 
matured, and executed a project which had 
resulted in no small gain to their mnstem — 
the English Whigs. That party of politics, 
as well as general literature, had not a little 
profited by the Edinburgh Review — followed 
by its equally able and influential contempo- 
rary the QuarUrly in the interest of the 
Tories. These Bevieas had done much to 
give intelligence and vigour to the conflict 
of parties, whilst they wrought high service 
in the cause of English letters. But a new 
era was dawning. Bentham had thought, 
had written, and aided by the able interprcta- 
tiouB of Diimont and the elder Mill, had been 
even undcrstdod. But Bentham was hardly 
an Oracle in the Edinburgh, and certainly 
was no high pontiff to the Quarterly. 
Whi^ery and Toryism were not now the 
only political parties. Theirs was a liberal- 
ism that astonished Jeflrev, and might have 
thrown even Sydney Smith into a paroiysm 
of alarm. 'ITie party who called themselves, 
or were called ' Radicals,' felt the need of 
some literary organ which should cope in 
form and character even with the already 
established periodicals. Thus arose the idea 
of the Westminster Review, which was first 
talked of by Bentliam and James Mill, 
though it did not become an actual project, 
until the voice of the younger Mill was 
heard in the councils of the rising party. 
Bentham at length determined to start the 
Revieie upon his own risks, and was very 
anxious that James Mill should accept the 
post of editor. ITiis was thought incompa- 
tible with the appointment at the India 
House, whether fi-oin lack of time or from 
the pronounced opinion which the Review 
might have to express upon questions relat- 
ed lo the Company, docs not appear from 
the son's words. ^ 

Here we are introduced to a personage 
who has figured very lai^oly in the annals 
of the Bentham school. Sir. John Bowring, 
better known to this age as Sir John, was a 
merchant in the city of London, He was a 
man of ardent temperament and multifarious 
learning, who obtained a mastery over a 
large number of languages, and became final- 
ly the editor of Bentham's works, and the 
compiler of Bentham's life. Ilis labours in 
connection with British atfairs in China are 
well known, but it is probable that he will 
live longest in the recollection of posterity, 
not as a zealous reformer, a vigorous scholar. 



105 

and a passionate admirer of the philosophy 
of utility, but from one or two hymns which 
he wrote, that liave found their way into the 
religious services of the almost universal 
Church. There is a strange irony in the 
history of human renown. Bowring's party 
would perhaps think it small praise that he 
should gain some little of that kind of fame 
of which Dr. "Watts is the immortal type, 
while all his fine spun theories and splendid 
achievements in refonnative measures should 
be held for little worth. Posterity has odd 
standards of glory. 

Whatever may have been the cause, it is 
clear that there was little sympathy between 
the Mills and Mr, Bowring. whether each ' 
wished to monopolise the idol for himself, 
we cannot say, but the picture of the elder 
Mill drawn by Bowring in his memoirs of 
Bentham, and which received countenance 
in the article that appeared in the Edin- 
burgh Review upon that work, was by no 
means flattering to the memory of the his- 
torian of Britisli India, and elicited from his 
son, in a memorable letter to the editor, 
which had the extraordinary and exception- 
al honour of an insertion in the next number, 
a defence of his father which was alike just 
to the reputation of the dead, and honoura- 
ble to the affection of the living. The refe- 
rences to Bowring in the autobiogapl|y 
show a continued sentiment of evident dis- 
like. 

In one whose language was not generally 
severe, those words are remarkable. He 
tells us that his father ' had seen little of 
Bowring but knew enough of him to form a 
strong opinion ' (we may conjecture in what 
terms James Mill would express himself 
when lie had fonned a strong opinion) ' that 
he was a man of an entirely different type 
from what my father considered suitable for 
conducting a political and philos<tphical Re- 
view ; and he angured so ill of the enterprise, 
that he regretted it altogether, feeling per- 
suaded not only that Mr. Bentham would 
lose his money, but that discredit would pro- 
bably he brought upon Radical principles.' 
It is not unrefreshing to some who may be 
compelled to breathe the atmosphere of an 
occasional religions squabble, to find that 
even in the airy heights of philosophical ra- 
dicalism, where religion is quite out of court, 
and even the existence of God is ignored on 
principles of utility, human nature asserts 
itself, and displays the spirit which leads to 
misunderstanding and strife. Tlie petty 
jealousies which the sects, alas, display, are 
surely alien to the sublime society of pure 
intelligence and right reason. Tlie philoso- 
phical Epiiraim never envies the philosophi- 
cal Judah. Judah the Utilitarian never 



Mr. MiWt Autobiography. 



106 

vcxca BplirRim the Benthamite. And yet it 
is go ; ttnd tlie strife does not cease after the 
death of the olriving ones. We need here, 
as Burcly as for the reliction ists, the apirit of 
a ' sweet reason nbleneiu.' 

At all events, the BrvUw was started, and 
Mr. Bowring became its editor. To the first 
uumber James Mill contributed what has 
always been a rara aets in roview articles — 
namely, a criticism upon another review. 
He examined the course of thn Edinburgh 
from it* commencement, and created no lit- 
tle atir by what was probably regarded as at 
once a breach of good literary etiquette, and 
a very able performance. But James Mill's 
article on the EdinbuTgh was like the sermon 
of a hot controversialist. It included a 
good deal more than the mere review of the 
Reviete. The stern democrat very easily 
passed from the Kdinburgh to a vigorous 
denunciation of the entire British constitu- 
tion. It was delenda e»t Carthago in the 
mouth of the English Radical. Party lead- 
ers were not spared. The Whigs found that 
they had a new foe, more nncom promising 
than any who had before attacked them, and 
giving signs of an ability which even the 
pages of their natural opponents had not 
displayed. Tlie blow fell with prodigious 
force. It was at once the war cry nnd the 
sword ewcepof fighting lUdicalism. There 
is little doobt that it formed a party and 
launched the Wegtminater. 

John Stuart Mill followed up the subject 
in the second number. James Mill conti- 
nued his labours for some time. Mr. Bing- 
ham, nftcrwards the magistrate, looked after 
the literary and artistic portions. Austin 
and Grotc wrote an article a-piece. Charles 
Austin, Fonhlanque, Ellis, Eyton Tooke, 
Graham, and Itocbuck were more regular 
contributors. Mill himelf was the most pro- 
lific writer, but nobody seemed to be quite 
pleased with the Review as a whole. ' It is 
worth noting as a fact,' says Mr. Mill, ' in 
the history of Benthamism that the periodi- 
cal organ by which it was best known was 
from the first extremely unsatisfactory to 
those whose opinions on all subjects it was 
supposed specially to represent.' We may 
faintly pictnre the life that poor Bowring 
must have led between the conflicting claims 
and somewhat vigorous criticism of these 
voung Benthamites. Daniel in the den of 
lions would be a poor comparison. In the 
office of the Weilmi>t*ter the unhappy edi- 
tor had no kind Providence which interested 
itself in his behalf, and closed the young 
lions' mouths. It is clear, however, that the 
Review must have done good work for the 
school which it represented, and it is only 



Jan. 



fair that Sir John Bowring should be credit' 
ed with some of that success. 

Mill was DOW brought into closer connec- 
tion with the lending men of the time, not 
only in literature, but also in the more pub- 
lic sphere of politics and his opinions hav- 
ing become established and systematized, 
they were soon converted by him into a pro- 
paganda. In a word, Bentliamism, as 
taught and promulgated by James Mill, be- 
came a religion. There was no God but 
Bentham, and John Staart was his prophet. 
The father had three channels by which he 
hoped to convert the world. The firet was 
his son, whom he had trained with the spe- 
cial object of his becoming the interpreter 
and apoBlle bf his own principle. The 
second was the small but influential party 
who gathered round Charles Austin, and 
numbered among its members such names as 
Strutt, afterwards Lord Belper, and Romil- 
ly, the son of the well-known Sir Samuel. 
The third was a still younger race of Cam- 
bridge men, companions of Tooke and But- 
ler, together with a more promiscuous crowd 
of persons, chiefly connected with the press, 
such as Biack and Fonblanque. These 
formed the 'Philosophic Radicals,' who 
combined the philosophy of Hartley — 
which Mill earnestly adopted — with the po- 
litioAl and legislative principles of Benthatn. 
This school consisted chiefly of young men. 
Bentham was a somewhat far-off divinity. 
James Mill was the expounder and teacher 
roand whose feet they delightedly gathered. 
Their enthusiasm grew as their principles 
were developed. They hoped to rival the 
philotophera of the last century. Young 
Mill was perhaps the most enthusiastic of 
them all. Without much sense of true be- 
nevolence, the principle of the greatest good 
was yet a m^ical power. He lived almost 
entirely in the region of speculative opinion. 
Feeling was the red r^ against which they 
all ran wildly, From the side which they 
attacked there came plenty of invective and 
good hearty abuse. The philosophers and 
Radicals do not^eni to have failed in vigo- 
rous reply. They hoped to regenerate man- 
kind, but it was to be by the education of 
the intellect and the enlightenment of the 
selfish feelings. It is satisfactory to learn 
from so high an authority as Mr. Mill him- 
self that ' not any one of the survivors of 
the Benthamites and Utilitarians of that day 
now relies mainly upon it for the general 
amendment of human conduct.' The ac- 
knowledgment docs honour to the truth- 
fulness of the great philosopher's nature, 
and will be accepted as a strong argument 
for the position of those who believe that 



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1874. 



Mr. MiSi Autobiography. 



107 



man can be regenerated only by tbc excite- 
ment ami culture of the love of justice, and 
the unseltiab sentiments of his nature. 

Space permits only of a brief reference to 
the class which was formed at Mr. Groto'a 
house in Threadiiecdle-street, for the peru- 
sal and discussion of works bearing upon the 
more abstract questions of the constitution 
of the human mind, and the relationship of 
society. Ellis, Graham, Prescott, Roebuck, 
Grote, and Mill met for an hour once a 
week, and thus wont through James Mill's 
' Political Economy,' Ricardo, Bailey, a 
course of Jogic, and especially Mill's ' Ana- 
lywsof tbcUiiman Mind.' The exercise was 
a most useful one, and the thoroughness with 
which the work was done, and the complete 
sifting of every subject, proved not only a 
discipline to their minds, but was a fertile 
source of after aohievemcnts. Some of Mr. 
Mill's chief works owe their origin to tbcse 
meetings. 

They also took part in a Aeries of pnb I 
discussions in Chancery-lane with the Owen- 
itcs, and out of this grew a debating socie- 
ty, attended by many whose names have 
since become almost household words. 

It was at this time that Mill went tlirough 
a remarkable transformation, important in 
its immediate effects, and perhaps still more 
important in its ultimate issues. The strain 
of constant work at last told upon him. He 
was evidently broken down in nervous 
power, and there set in a tide of profound 
melancholy which threatened utterly to over- 
whelm him. After embracing Benthamism 
and joining in the starting of the Westmin- 
»ler, he seems to hare gained an object in 
life — he determined to become a reformer. 
There were abuses in abundance, and pleoty 
of dragons to guard the way ; to be the de- 
stroyer of the dragons, and to rectify the 
wrongs of the social state was an end wor- 
thy of a philosopher's son and the almost 
adopted heir of Ben th am 'a system. All 
went well for a time. The young reformers 
- made noise enough ; and the dragons whom 
they smote roared loudly,^nd endeavoured 
with sufficient madness t* crush the bold 
aggressors. Mill was now twenty years old 
— an old age for one who read Greek at 
three aud studied Aristotle and Plato at 
seven, A sudden thought occurred to him, 
and that when be was in a mood which he 
describes as a dull- state of nerves, when 
what is pleasure at other times becomes in- 
sipid and inditfeient, the state in which he 
supposes converts to Methodism are when 
smitten by the tlret ' conviction of sin,' 
Probably Mr, Mill never conversed with a 
person under such ' conviction of sin.' He 
may liave found that something very diffe- 



rent from ' nerves ' has to do with that spi- 
ritual experience. Indeed, the entire phrase- 
ology of the passage in the autobiography 
shows such utter ignorance of tlic spheres of 
life to which he refers, that the qualifying 
expression ' I should think ' scarcely covers 
its gratuitous, and, to a large and worthy 
section of his fettow-men almost insulting, im- 
pertinence. In this frame of mind it oc- 
curred to him to ask himself, ' Suppose that 
all of your objects in life were realized, that 
all the changes in institutions and opinions 
which you are looking forward to could be 
completely effected at this very instant ; would 
this be a great joy and happiness to you!' 
To this his heart answered, No! and life 
became a blank ; his spirit sank witbiu him ; 
all the fair editice of thought and hope and 
high purpose, which had been erected at 
such cost and eare, vanished like a dream. 
Ills happiness was to be found in a certain 
pursuit. When the end was attained, the 
pursuit was over, and there was no more joy 
in living. 

Time brought no alleviation to the sad- 
ness. He says that Coleridge's lines ex- . 
pressed exactly hia condition, — 

'A grief without a pang, void dark and drear, 
A dreaiT, stifled, unimpassioned grier. 
Which finds no natural outlet or relief 
In word, or sigh, or tear.' 

All exertion now was difficult. Books 
gave him no enjoyment. He loved no com- 
panion sufficiently to confide bis sorrow to a 
sympatbetic heart. He feared to t«lt bis 
grief lest it should seem too trifling a dis- 
tress. His father was the very last man to 
whom he would have appealed. It was bis 
firm conviction that James Mill bad no 
knowledge of such a mental state as bis 
son was suffering from. Tbo education be 
had given him had no outlook for such a 
crisis as this; and so alone and without a 
ray of tight the young man bore bis bitter 
misery. It is strange that he did not now 
question the wisdom of the teaching which 
resulting in this condition had yet no heal- 
ing for its own ill ; indeed, the teacher 
seemed absolutely unconscious that such a 
thing could be. True, he began to doubt 
some of the applications of his father's prin- 
ciples, but it was only to take refuge in the 
opinion that he had been too strictly trained in 
the analytic habit. Hia doubt did not com- 
pel him to seek a sphere of human sympa- 
thy and action altogether neglected by tbe 
school in which he had grown up to man- 
hood. His was, in fact, alife withoutanideal, 
a religion without a God, and awaking to a 
sense of certain ignored and forgotten pow- 
ers within him be found that tbey met with 



oy Google 



lOS 

no response to their cry ; but he was alone 
in the wilderness, with no answer but the 
eclio of his own wretchedness. What might 
the man not hare become for himself and 
for his age, if some Ananias could have 
found him in bis blindness, and given hira 

A mind of the character and culture of 
Mr, Mill was not likely to remain for ever in 
this gloom. A faint response of sensibility 
to a passage in the 'Memoirs of Mamiontel' 
revealed to himself the fact that the springs 
of hia affections had not been altogether 
dried np. The flinty rock was smitten, and 
a stream, though only a trickling one, flowed 
in the desert and refreshed his soul. The 



life was worth living for ; and, though he had 
occasional returns of the fits of melancholy, 
they were never of long duration, and not of 
encli utter hopelessness as the first. 

The result of this experience was twofold. 
He began to regard as of importance the cul- 
tdre of the inner life, and he formed a tbeo- 
■ ry altogether different from that which had 
hitherto guided him. Happiness was still 
received as the ' test of rules of conduct, the 
proper end of life' But it was not to be 
guned by keeping it ever before tbc mind. 
Men seemed to him to be happy not in bo 
far as they sought happiness, but in so far as 
they sought something else. 'The enjoy- 
ments of life are sufficient to make it a 
pleusant thing when they are taken m pas- 
sanl, without being made a principal object. 
Once make them so and they are imme- 
diately felt to be insufficient. They will not 
bear a scrutinising examination.' These 
words are remarkable as coming from the 
pen of England's modem teacher of logic 
and morals. The object of this article is not 
to discuss the doctrines of Mr. J, S. Mill, but 
this obscn-ation appears to exhibit all the 
faults of bad reasoning and but slight ac- 
quaintance with the real nature of man, Tlie 
idea of happiness here expounded is wofully 
incomplete. Some very simple people, who 
have no notion of either logical or ethical 
systems, could teach Mr. Mill and his school 
very much of wliich they seem not even to 
dream. If that, too, which is the test of 
conduct must not he present to the mind as 
a rule of conduct, may wo not suspect it as 
the sole and thoroua;h-going solvent for all 
the perplexed problems of good and evil ! 
It is strange that the philosopher should not 
have suspected his theory of happiness as 
the end of life, when it proved itself such 
only by indirect means. The narrowness of 
ontlook which cannot fail to impress the 
mind of every student .of the philosophy of 



Jtr/-. Mill's Aitlobiogrophy. 



Jan. 



James Mill, seems then to have clung to the 
thinking of the son, Man's mind and heart, 
his nature and life arc of far wider extent 
than either of these shsrp and peculiarly sub- 
tle thinkers ever seem to have conceived. 
Perhaps if Mr. Mill had not been in the re- 
markanlc condition of ' one who has even 
not had a religion ' to give np, hia view of 
men and conduct would not have lost in 
fulness and in truth. 

When Mill was twentv-five years of age, 
he met the lady who afterwards became his 
wife, between whom and himself there 
sprang np a friendship which, when it deep- 
ened into ihe closer relationship of marriage, 
presented one of the most beautiful examples 
of perfect union which biographv has ever 
related. She was the wife of a lilr, Taylor, 
a man of high character and liberal opinions, 
but who does not seem to have possessed 
those mental and (esthetic tastes which 
would make his union with his wife in every 
way complete. He was very fortunate to 
win the hand of such a woman ; and her re- 
gard for her husband remained unbroken 
until his death, when she deeply and truly 
lamented his loss. But her marri^e with 
Mr. Mill was altogether of a different order. 
Their tastes blended, their views of life were 
one, their ambition turned towards a com- 
mon object. Indeed, if much that he says 
of his wife is not to be put down to the ro- 
mance of affection, it is to her that he owes 
the inspiration of his best works. She be- 
came to him the supreme object of regard. 
Mill had no great faith in a God. He had 
unbounded confidence in a goddess, and it 
is clear that the instincts of worship and 
religion which ho undoubtedly possessed 
found some object of adoration in the noble 
woman who was honoured to bear his name. 

She was of beautiful person and highly- 
cultivated mind, able to pour forth the 
treasures of her nature in admirable words. 
Those who knew her in the common inter- 
course of society, recognised her as a wit 
and a woman of peculiar distinction. She 
possessed a warm and kindly soul, that was 
stirred to its depths by feelings of liberty 
and humanity. She was remarkably clear, 
accurate, and swift in the powers of her in- 
tuitions, and added to all her mental charac- 
teristics the charm which arises from a po- 
etic and glowing temperament. She seems 
to have been saved from the coarseness and 
strenuous tone of the typical strong-minded 
woman, althonsh probably some of her 
opinions might sboclc staid people, who are 
innocent alike of philosophy and the doc- 
trines of the new era. A true womnnlineea 
redeemed her from the corrupting influences 
of these so-called advanced opinions. Her 



nOO^Ie 



1S74. 

presence in her husband's life was like the 
Bong of the lurk as he rises in the morning 
and floods the clear air from which the 
shadows of the night have only just with- 
drawn, with a melody pnre as the dewdrop 
that is falling from his wing. There is 
something tetherefll amf spiritual in the tone 
which animates Mill's words as be speaks of 
bis wife, while at the same time the union of 
the thonghtfui and the practical which was 
found in her nature, served to direct her 
husband's speculations towards the imme- 
diate and the actual. The history of letters 
scarcely furnishes another example of so 
complete a blending of tastes, objects, and 
pursuits, and at the same time the open con- 
fession on the man's part of the vast obliga- 
tion under which he rested to his wife. 

With the introduction and friendship of 
Mrs. Taylor, the formative influences which 
combined to educate John Stuiirt Mill may 
be said to have ceased. Up to thirty years 
of age we may consider him as engaged in 
forming his opinions and gaining matenal 
for the work of life. At first, the strict 
mental discipline of his father's study; then 
the influence of Bentbam and the school 
which gathered round James Mil! ; next, the 
pcraonol experiences through which he passed 
away from Benthamism and philosophical 
Radicalism into a somewhat wider aspect of 
life, and a more generous estimate of man 
and society ; and finally the inspiration de- 
rired from his friendship with Mrs. Taylor — 
all these phases of his history produced their 
natural etfect, and made him to be, perhaps, 
the foremost Englishman of his time in the 
region of speculative philosophj-. 

He became a regular writer in magazines 
and reviews, and made preparation for his 
works of f^ater weight, lie laboured hard 
to give liadii^lism more force in the re- 
formed House of Commons, but found that 
the expectations of what the Radical mem- 
bers would achieve, was little better than a 
dream. In 1833 he was associated with 
Fonblanque on the Examiner. In 1634 he 
published comments on passing events, 
under the title of ' Notes on the Newspa- 
pers,' in the MoatKly Repository, which was 
then edited by Foi, the Unitarian minister, 
afterwards member for Oldham. In this 
journal appeared bis theory of poetry, after- 
wards published in the ' DisserUtions ;' and 
among other writings of this date, special 
reference ought to be made to a critical 
account of Bentham's philosophy, which he 
contributed to Bulwer s ' England and the 
English.' Part of It was incorporated in 
the text, and tbc rest in an appendix. Mill 
seems at this time to have been escaping 
from the shackles of hia father's powerfid 



Mr. MilCe Autobiography. 



109 

mind. Though defending the doctrines of 
Hartley and the principles of Utilitaiianism 
from a severe attack made upon them by 
Sedgwick in his ' Discourses on the Studies 
of Cambridge,' he continued to ' insert a 
number of the opinions which constituted 
his view of these subjects as distinguished 
from that of bia old associates.' I'he oppo- 
sition of the elder Mill was probably tem- 
pered by a corresponding advanee'in hisown 
position and the debility produced by de- 
clining health. Ue was sutfeiing from con- 
sumption, and died on the 23rd of June, 
183S. 

Mill was now left alone to carry out the 
great mission for which he had been prepar- 
ed by Bonthain and his father. Hie chief 
employment was the preparation of the 
' Logic,' and writing for tne WeUntintler, 
which bad passed entirely into his hands, 
lie opened iU pages to a far wider school of 
writers than bad hitlierto contributed to it 
Amongst these were Sterling, whose name 
will be preserved in his ' Life,' written by 
Carlyla, and Carlyle himself, the references 
to whom in the autobiography are very 
touching and generous. The ' Logic ' was 
published in the spring of 1843, and was at 
once received with very general acclamation. 
The work soon became a tcxi-book in the 
schools, and qnite a standard authority on 
tbe side of those who held that all know- 
ledge is derived from experience, and ' all 
moral and intellectual qualities principally 
from the direction ^ven to the associations.' 
The effect produced by this work during tbe 
present generation in completing the revival 
of a true system of logical study, which was 
commenced by Whately, can never be over- 
rated. Quite apart from any question as to 
tbe truth of the docLines set forth by Mill, 
it cannot be doubted that by far tbe great- 
est book in the English language upon that 
subject is the now universally known and 
studied ' System of Logic' The point on 
which Mill seems most disposed to base the 
worth of bis book is its endeavour to com- 
bat the philosophy of intuition, as to the 
real value of mathematical and physical 
truths, and the true character of necessary 
truths ; but it is very probable that by tbe 
majority of readers the ' Logic ' is chiefly 
prized for its masterly discussion of the 
scientific forms of physical research. It has 
given to logic a wider reach, and saved it 
from the chaise of mere trifling with names 
and figures without any faithfuldealing with 
tbe facts and laws of nature. 

Mill had passed out of the school of Ben- 
tham and nis father, only to enter that of 
Mrs. Taylor. He retired from society, of 
which he speaks in terms of unqualified con- 



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Jfr. MilTt Autobiography. 



110 

tempt, and cultivated the friendship of only 
B limited circle. He became more ' hereti- 
cal,' and believed thnt hia hercsicH were the 
moat essential part of his opinions in relation 
to the regeneration of mankind. An a 
Benthamite he seems to have been only 
Democratic. Now be became a Socialist, 
but with strong qualifying convictions in the 
direction of individual liberty. Hon far 
his socialism took a practical form we are 
not told. It is probable, however, that it 
was only a speculative principle, not carried 
out lo the utmost extent of possible applica- 
tion, although Mill was always generous and 
self-sacrificing. 

The ' Political Economy,' which contain- 
ed these advanced vtSws, was now in hand. 
It was published early in 1848, and com- 
manded a success greater even thou that of 
the ' Logic,' and baa in its turn become a 
standard wovk. lie continued to write oc- 
casionally in papers and magazines, and 
commenced and finished many essays which 
appear never to have seen the light In 
1861 he was married to Mrs. Taylc^ who 
had lost her first husband two 'years pre- 
viously. In 1866 he was promoted to the 
portion of Examiner of Indian Correspon- 
dence, the highest post in the office where 
he had laboured for more than thirty years. 
He was strongly opposed to the actiuQ of 
Parliament which terminated the existence 
of the East India Company, and the remon- 
strance which he wrote in defence of the 
company was said by a leading politician to 
be uie very best Statu paper he bad ever 
seen. He was offered a scat in the Council 
by Lord Stanley, the first Secretary of State 
for India. This, as well as a subsequent 
offer from the Council itself, he persistently 
declined. 

His ' Liberty,' perhap his greatest work, 
appeared soon after the loss of his wife, 
which melancholy event occurred in the win- 
ter of 1858. The words with which he 
refers to its publication breathe the ten- 
derest sentiment ' After my irreparable 
\oe», one of my earliest cares was to print 
and publish the treatise, so much of which 
was the work of her whom I had lost, and 
consecrate it to her memory, I have made 
no alteration or additjon to it, nor shall I 
ever. Though it wants the last touch of 
her hand, a substitute for that touch shall 
never be attempted by mine.' He also 
published the first two volumes of ' Disserta- 
tions and Discussions,' In 1860 and 1861 
he wrote ' Considerations on Representative 
Oovemment,' and 'The Subjection of 
Women,' the latter of which was not pub- 
lished until 1869, This was followed bv 
' Utilitarianism,' the ' Examination of Sir 



William Hamilton's Philosophy,' the volume 
on ' Augustc Comte and Positivism,' shorter 
articles upon various subjects, and an edi- 



Mill's ' Analysis of the Human 
Mind,* with notes. In the preparation of 



These make up a tolerably large collection 
of works which in their class deservedly 
hold a first-rate position. The laborious- 
ncss of Mr, Mill's authorship was very note- 
worthy. He published notning which had 
not been the result of long and patient 
thinking. He paid much attention to the 
style of bis works, and- though rather dif- 
fuse and at times prolix, on the whole he is 
one of the most interesting of writers on 
subjects which are proverbially dry and bar- 
ren of topics likely to catch the attention of 
any but those who make them an especial 

Mr. Mill's parliamentary career does not 
call for particular notice. It was creditable 
to him alike in his candidature, his speeches, 
and in the defeat which attended his effort 
at re-election. The spirit which he threw 
into bis words raised the tone of parliamen- 
tary debate, and although he did not achieve 
any great success whilst in the House of 
Commons, he has loft behind him a record 
of nohle and far-reaching utterances, _of 
which his admirers may very justly be 
proud. After this, he spent most of his 
time upon the Continent, and was engaged 
in bis favourite studies and pursuits until 
the end of life. He died on the 8th of May, 
1873, at his residence near Avignon, close to 
the sacred spot where the remains of his be- 
loved wife repose, and where he himself was 
laid beside her, perhaps rightly denied to 
that English ground from which he does 
not seem to have departed with many signs 
of affection or regret. 

It is probable that we are much too near 
to the time of this great writer fairly to esti- 
mate his character and work. I'he life of 
John Stuart Mill still remains to be written, 
although we can never receive a more com- 
plete and truthful account of the influences 
which combined to make him what he was, 
than that furnished by himself. And yet 
perhaps it would have been well bad the 
autobiography never been written. It ia 
one of the saddest books ever published. 
It reveals a childhood out of which all 
brightness and cheer were driven in an inex- 
orable nianofactory of mind. It seems to 
tell the story of a youth without passion, 
withont rapture, without victory. Its man- 
hood has no love in it, and were it not for 
the few years of apparently unutterable 
happmess in married life, the story of John 



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Note to the Article on Herbirt Spencer. 



Stuart Mill's career would be told from be- ' 
p^inning to end alike without smiles or teHre. 
That lie poBseased a mind of peculiar 
eoergy, thoroughly disciplined and richly 
stored, it would be folly to question. Mill's 
sensibilities were also delicate' and quick. 
But those were checked, altnoBt crushed out 
in the terrible education through which he 
passed. That ho possessed them, is suffi- 
ciently clear from the fact that those who 
came into personal contact with him felt in 
a moment the almost feminine tenderness of 
his nature, and were conscious of receiving 
from him a quick and sympathetic response. 
He WAS courageoua iu the highest degree. 
His soul burned with indignation at wrong 
done to the slave, the poor, the helpless. 
There was a kind of chivalry in the way in 
which lie espoused the cause of women in 
their subjection to men. Some have 
thonght that in this and other points his 
feelings swayed bis jadgment, and the 
author of the ' System of Logic ' became a 
striking example of the all-masterinfr force 
of an emotional natnre. Spite of all this, 
the life gives us no sign of happiness. A 
tinge of melancholy runs tbroogh alL From 
the severity of bis father to the sweet intel- 
lectual inspirings of his wife a sadness seems 
ever to dwell upon his career. It was not 
that he was ui^ortunate. Few men have 
achieved greater success in life than John 
Stuart Mill. Uis was no struggle with 
poverty, obloquy, and reproach. Blessed 
with competence, iu excellent health, sur- 
rounded by admirers. Mill learned but few 
of the hitter lessons hy which some men are 
schooled. It was not that be was intensely 
earnest. Ke certainly was earnest, and 
meant all he said and did. But many men 
have been as earnest, and the gladness which 
ever fell around him has brightened all 



thi 



eirpi 



.ath. Uis 






went ever in the dim 



twilignt of B pensive melancholy. 

Some explanation may, perhaps, De loana 
in his own words, that he had not thrown 
off religious belief; but that he never bad 
it Was this the miss in life i Was this 
the true explanation of the unrest, the sense 
of emptiness which the book snga;ests ! 
Perhaps it would have been better for him 
to have lost a religion. Then a conscions- 
Dcss of need might have driven him to seek 
for one, and this quest has often been the 
fulness of a life. To be sure he found at 
length a supreme object of regard. Strange 
Nemesis of outn^ed nature ! Men must 
worship. Perhaps as MiU would not, or 
could uot worship God, it may be matter of 
devout satisfaction that he made as the idol 
of his sou! no worse object than the grace- 
ful and gifted woman by whose aide he 



sleeps in the little French cemetery. Bnt 
that he failed to find in theory or in prac- 
tice the nitimate and true laws of human 
life, it only needs the antobiography to 
place beyond a doubt. Long ago aid the 
great preacher declare ear nonlrtim inqme(um 
ett dotttf. requieseat in le. We need not won- 
der that Bcutham's heir and James Mill's 
son, one of the profoundest thinkers, one of 
the most virtuous men, one of the most 
gifted philosophers of ttw present century, 
completely failed to find that perfect rest, 
that * peace which passeth understanding.' 



JVote to Ike Article on Herbert Speneer, 
No. VL, Octobtr, 1873. 

Is the notice of Mr. Spencer's works 
that appeared in the last number of this 
Rtview we had occasion to point out that he 
held mistaken notions of the most funda- 
mental generalizations of dynamics ; that he 
had shown an Ignorance of the nature of 
proof in Iiis treatment of the Newtonian 
Law ; that he bad osed phrases such as the 
Persistence of Force in various and incon- 
sistent significations ; and more especially 
that he had put forth proofs logically faulty 
in his endeavour to demonstrate certain phy- 
sical propositions by d priori methods, and 
to show that such proofs must exist. To 
this article Mr. Spencer has replied in the 
December number of the /'or(mifA//yfiMn>». 
His reply leaves every one of the above po- 
sitions unassailed. With the exception of 
two minor pointa to be presently dealt with, 
he has contented himself with joining issae 
with us on the existence of A priori pliysical 
troths. It will bo noticed that nowhere in 
our article do wo attempt to prove that such 
cannot exist, though we fully believe it. And 
are uot afraid of asserting it The attitude 
of physicists towards this question is identi- 
cal with that of mathematicians towards the 
Geometrical Quadrature of the Circle. This 
has never been shown to be Impossible, 
thongh the experience of repeated failures 
has made them believe tt to be so, and even 
to sec good reason why this should be. 
They therefore freely express this their con- 
viction that they may discourage useless en- 
deavours ; and they content themselves with 
exposing the fallacies of alt alleged solutions 
instead of wasting their time in seeking to 
prove that it is actually impossible. SimU 
iariy we decline to argue the abstract ques- 
tion of the possible existence of d priori 
phyucal truths ; bnt inaamnch as Mr. Speu- 



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Note to the Article on Herbert Spencer. 



112 

ccr has proceeded to show tliat such must 
exist, and that tha Three Laws of Motion 
are of this nature, we shall, here as before, 
indicate the fallacies that underlie his pro- 
posed demonstrations. 

So certain is he that the d priori character 
of the Laws of Motion is an unchallenged 
fact, that he hints that he is tDagnanlmoiis 
io not retorting ou ns some of our severe 
1angiiai:c in consequence of our oversight of 
it But inasmuch as he feels that it is un- 
likely that Professor Tait should deny the 
cKistence of d priori physical truths with 
such instances before him, he thinks it ad- 
visable to prove the point, which he pro- 
ceeds to do by citing a pass^e from the 
great work on ' Natural Philosophy ' by 
Professors Thomson and Tait to balance the 
dictum of Professor Tait himself, and also 
by adducing abstract and other argumcnta 
in support of his poMtions. And first as to 
this Aral quotation. It sounds strongly in 
his favour. 'Physical axioms are axiomatic 
to those only who liave sufficient knowledge of 
the action of physical causes to enable tliem 
to see at once their necessary truth.' Had 
Mr. Spencer, however, read the sentence 
that follows it we doubt whether we should 
have heard ought of this quotation. It id 
' Without furtlier remark we shall give New- 
ton's Three Laws ; it being remembered 
that as the properties of matter might have 
been such as to render a totally different set 
of laws axiomatic, tkeu laws mutt be con- 
sidered at Ttilinij oa conmeliom drawn from 
obtervalion and txptriment and not on 
intuitive perception.'' Tliis not only shows 
that the term ■ axiomatic ' is used in the pre- 
vious sentence in a sense that does not ex- 
clude an inducljvc origin, but it leaves us 
indebted to Mr. Spencer for the diBCovery 
of the clearest and most authoritative e^re»- 
sion of disapproval of his views respecting 
the nature of the Laws of Motion. 

Secondly, he states that ' every physical 
question probed to the bottom ends in a 
metaphysical one,' and that our doctrine 
illustrates the error ' that we can go on for 
ever, asking the proof of the proof, without 
finally coming to any deepest cognition which 
is unproved and unprovable. But the 
' nnproved ' thing at which a scientific inves- 
tigator arrives is not ' unprovable ' in conse- 
quence of being an d priori truth, but in 
consequence of its being a fundamental hy- 
pothesis, and the warrant of its truth to him 
13 not its being a ' datum of consciousness,' 
but its power to account for phenomena. It 
is clear throughout the reply, that Mr. Spen- 
cer confounds t'je nature and status of an 
A priori truth with that ot rt fandomenlal 
tcientijic kypotheii*, and no mistake eould 



Jan. 



be more fatal to his claim to be trusted as a 
philosopher capable of unifying all science. 
The latter is always liable to be qualified or 
altered in accordance with the results of new 
and more accurate experiments, while the 
former, however it be defined, mast differ 
widely from this. 

Thirdly, he tries to show that these laws 
of motion could admit of do d posteriori 
proof, llis argument is briefly as follows : — 
The first law of motion cannot be proved 
inductively, for we have no case of abso- 
lutely unobstructed motion, and to assume 
that retardation will vanish when friction 
and resistance cease, because it grows less 
when they grow less, is to assume (1) that 
the diminuti'^n of motion produced in a 
moving body is proportionate to the enciwy 
abstmcted from it in producing other 
motion ; (2) that no variation has occurred 
save in giving motion to other matter; 
(3) that the law of inertia holds in the 
obstructing matter ; and that this is to, 
astume the truth of the vert/ law we are try- 
ing to prove. On the utterly erroneous cha- 
racter of these, statements we do not care to 
dwell, we wish simply to call our readers' 
attention to the conclusion arrived at. Is 
that a disproof of the possibility of an in- 
ductive proof! We thought that every 
tolerably educated man was aware that the 
proof of a scientific law cansitled in show- 
ing that by assuming its truth, we could ex- 
plain the observed phenomena. 

He passes on to show that if wc sui>stitute 
accurate for rough observations, our very 
measurements of equal times, &e., depend 
on the truth of dynamical principles. ' That 
is to sav, the proposed experimental proof 
of the 'first law assumes not only the truth 
of the first law, but of that which Professor 
Tait agrees with Newton in regarding as a 
second law.' Of course it does, and also 
that of the third law, if not that of others. 
Does not Mr. Spencer know that the proof 
on which physicists mainly rely in establish- 
ing the accuracy of the fundamental hypo- 
theses of any branch of science is that, tcAen 
taken as a nyitem, they account for complex 
phenomena which are the result of their 
concurrent action. We may illustrate, or 
even roughly demonstrate the sevenl laws 
separately by experiments, which give in- 
stances of their approximately isolated work- 
ing, but no one considers such experiments 
as doing more than establishing a primti 
facie case on behalf of the laws they seve- 
rally illustrate. Mr. Spencer asserts that 
Newton gave no proof of the Laws of Mo- 
tion, The whole of the Principia was the 
proof, and the fact that, taken as a system, 
these htws account for ^c lunar and plane- 



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1874. 

ftry motions, it the wnrraut on which they 
chicHy rest to tliiti day. 

The two minor points to which ve have 
referred are these. ■ Mr. Speneer made a 
statement which we knew the present state of 
science could not justify. From the context 
we concluded tliat lie had fallen into one error. 
His reply shons that he bad fallen into 
two others. Mathematical readers will lind 
that he cunchides that friction must ulti- 
matciy transform all the energy of a sound 
into heat, because it continually is trans- 
forming some of it, forgetting that the 
validity of this conclusion depends on the 
laws of gaseous friction for very small velo- 
cities, of which we know hut little. More- 
over, he thinks that this final transformation 
of the whole of the energy into heat is af- 
fected b\ Laplace's discovery of the gene- 
ration of heat by the compression accom- 
panjm the sound. The discovery iu ques- 
tion m 1.1 1 as well he described as the dimi- 
nvt o 1 of hoat by the expansion of the air 
prodicid by the sound; it has nothing to 
do with the final transformation, as its eficct 
is merely momentary, and in fact it amounts 
to nothing more than our using in our cal- 
cnlations the coefficient of adiabatic instead 
of isothermal elasticity. With respeot to 
bis distinction between Persistence of Force 
and Onacrvation of Energy, we can only 
repeat the words of the article, ' He formally 
ideiitJIiea it on its first appearance with the 
Conservation of Force, which is the old 
name for the principles now known as the 
Conservation of Energy,' secure that our 
reference will bear them out Mr. Spencer 
cannot shelter himself under any difference 
of meaniti<r between the last two phrases. 
Conservation of Force was changed into 
Consen'atiim of Energy, not because there 
was any doubleness of meaning iu it, but 
because outsiders might think so. The 
change came too late to save Mr. Spencer, 

There is one further point on which we 
must ask our readers to judge between Mr. 
Spencer and ourselves. He feels it advisa- 
bfe at the end of his reply to encourage bis 
disciples by assuring them that were our 
conclusions valid they would have done but 
little. Speaking of liis reviewer, he says, 
' Against the general doctrine of Evolution, 
con»dered as an induction from all concrete 
phenomena, he utters not a word ;' and he 
points out that we have merely found fault 
with two illustrations in all the ch^ters that 
treat of the laws by which he maintains that 
it is guided. Our words in introducing the ' 
only part of our essay that refers to these 
subjects, were — ' It roust be underitood that 
we are not attacking bis induction. He has 
a right to claim that it should be taken as 

VOL. LIX. B — 8 



Contemporary Lileratvre, 



113 



a whole ; and we tihould be the lost to deny 
his claim. \Vc shall therefore only give 
these specimens, in order to set the reader 
of Mr. Spencer's work on his guard, and 
shall therefore content ourselves with giving 
two.' Is it a fit reward for the care with 
which we assigned and kept the above limits 
to the field of our criticisms that Mr. Spen- 
cer should point triumphantly to what we 
have not included therein, and have there- 
fore not uotjced t Anyone who considers 
tlie length of the article will see good reason 
why wo thus restricted ourselves, but we 
hope at a future time to have an opportunity 
of examining such of the excluded parts as 
belong to the domiun of the physicist. 



CoKTExronARr Lite ax to rb. 



Holland So'vte. By Princess Maris LtEcn- 
TENSTBiN, with numerous Illustrations. Two 
Vols. Macuiillan and Co. 
The Prince<:s Llechstonstein, as some of our 
readers nre aware, is the adopted daughter of 
Holland House— whose marri^e, as chronicled 
in the newspapers, was celebrated with almost 
rojiil pomp a few months ago. It says much 
for her qualities of both head and heart, that a 
lad; so young should have produced a work so 
able and sympathetic as this. Of course its 
literary characteristics are not to be measured 
by the standards that we should apply to lite- 
rary masters like Hacaulay and bir James 
Mackintosh— either of whom, if he had com- 

Bleied liis intention of writing a history of 
olland House, would have made a perma- 
nent and brilliant contribution to the highest 
class of political, social, and historic literature. 
Only a pedant or a cynic, however, would sug- 
gest such a comparison. The book before us, 
although somewhat juvenile in some of its 
moralizings and judgments, is worthy of its 
theme, and is full of interest It indicates 
considerable literary and artistic QuHure, a 
patient research into the rich manuscript treas- 
ures of Holland Hou^e, and an utter absence of 
pretension, which gives the book one of its 
great charms. It is a book that has grown out 
of the soil made of the material of Holland 
House itself, moulded by the fair hand of one 
of its residents. The writer arranges her work 
in three sections — first, the history of the man- 
or and house; next, biographical and social 
notices of eminent personages connected with 
it, as owners, members of the family, or guests ; 
and nest, a description of the house and 
grounds, with a cateAog\i» raitmiTii of the prin- 
cipal pictures, books, art treasures, souvenirs, 
Ac, which the rooms conlaia Holland House 
is almost the last of the great historic mansions 
of London. It is o&e of the li 



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interesting in England. Tt in still s paJoce 

Bci]uestered in its own grounds, its pinnacles 
and gnbles mingling with rich green foliage ; 
although the eteady tide of urt>an population is 
wrapping it round like a rock on the Kea-shore. 
Holland House has from various cauBes gather- 
ed « lituniry reputation that is almost unique, 
and that is not very easy to define; it presents 
the nearest approach to the French aaUm that 
English society has attained. But the tact and 
genius of the imperious Lady Holland, nho 
succeeded in making her house the social atlio- 
nffium of literary and artistic England, although 
she laid her royal behests on patient John 
Allen and good-humoured Sydney Smith so 
unceremoniously that Ihe former bade her 
carve for herself, and the latter asked if he 
should sweep the room as well as ring the bell 
— only put the crown «pon an illustrious repu- 
tation. More great names have been associated 
with Holland House than perhaps with any 
other mansion in England. The generation 
that Macauky so brilliantly describes in his 
'Essay on Lord Holland' has ahuost passed 
away — some few yet remain, however, to whom 
it is the most brilliant memory of modem Eng- 
lish life. The names of illustrious personages 
who assembled in the famous Oilt-room, at the 
bidding of Lady Holland, and who might have 
been heard discussing the literature or politics 
of the day, fill six or seven pages. Wilkio and 
Mackintosh, Talleyrand and Sydney Smith, 
Charles James Fox, Sheridan, Sir Philip Fran- 
cis, Komilly, Windham, Homer, Grcnville, 
Curran, Grattan, Monk Lewis, Jerome Buona- 
parte, Tiarney, Dr. Parr, Blanco White, Wol- 
laston, Payne Knight, Sir Humphry Davy, 
Jeffirey, liyron, Moore, Rogers, Macaulay, El- 
don, tyndhurst, Melbourne, Brougham, Wash- 
ington Irving-, the Humboldts, John Allen, 
Hookham Frere, Canova, Chan trey. Mole, 
Ouizot, Palmerston, Lansdownc, Jeremy Ben- 
tbam, Uumont, Madame de Sta^l, the Prin- 
cess Lieven, Metternich, and Kemble arc 
among them. 

With groat tact and animation the autho- 
ress acts as eUerone among these illustri- 
ous guests, points to souvenirs, and connects 
anecdotes with them ; detains us tor a moment 
to tell a good story, and then passes on. She 
has had free access to family papers, and no 
doubt nho would have contributed more to lite- 
rary anil political knowledge bad she used 
these more largely ; but she would have 
marred her design, which was simply to give 
an account of Holland House, — to pei^ect 
which, she lays under contribution all availa- 
ble sources of information, whether published 
or not — biographies and histories, as well as 
manuscripts. Some of her stories, therefore, 
have been frequently told before — but they 
could not have been left out. 

Henry Rich, the great grandson of an opu- 
lent mercer, was the flrst Lord Holland, created 
Earl of Holland in 1G24. Hccameinio posses- 
sion of Holland House, previously called Cope 
Castle, through his wife Isabel, the daughter 
of Sir Walter Cope. He proved disloyal to 
Charles I., and a meeting between the disafTeo- 
ted members of Parliament and Fairfax was 



Contemporari/ Xilerattire. 



Jan. 

held at Holland House, August Cith, 1S47. 
In 1648, he returned to the Royolists, wos cap- 
tured at St. Neot's, and beheaded in Palace- 
yard, Westminster. Henry Rich was a Mecie- 
nas in his way, and made Holland House the 
resort of talent and fashion. He was a bravo 
man, although very handsome, and a fop. He 
appeared on the scaffold dressed in a white 
satin waistcoat and a white satin cap with sil- 
ver lace. After hia death General Fairfax 
inhabited Holbuid House, and Lambert fixed 
his headquarters there. In a field belonging to 
it Cromwell is said to have discussed affairs 
with Ireton, to avoid being overheard through 
Ireton's deafness. Lady Holland regained her 
mansion, and had plays acted there when the 
theatres were shut by the Puritans. The 
second Lord Holland succeeding bis cousin, 
became Earl of Warwick ; and ihc wife of his 
son and successor was the Countess of War- 
wick, whom Addison married, when slie became 
a widow. The story is of course told again, 
and Addison'smatrimonial happiness is discuss- 
ed. Notwithstanding the severe epigrammatic 
verdict of Johnson, founded on ' Spence's Anec- 
dotes,' let lis hope that things were not so bad, 
inasmuch as Addison left his fortune to Lady 
Warwick, and Lady Warwick left £10 a year 
to the poor of Hilton, out of respect for her 
husband ; also a legacy of £S0 to Mrs. Dorothy 
Combes, ' sister of my late dear husband, Mr. 
Addison.' Addison died in what is now the 
dining-room, but whether, as Tickell says, bid- 
ding the youn^ Earl of Warwick ' see in what 
peace a Christian can die,' or, as Walpole says, 
' Unluckily he died of brandy,' is not certain. 
It is said that he used to pace the long library 
with a ' bottle of port at one end, a bottle of 
sherry at the other,' in which he tried to drown 
dull care. Addison is said to have sent for 
Milton's daughter to Holland House, requesting 
her to bring with her some evidences of her 
birth ; but so soon as he saw her he exclaimed 
' Madam, you need no other vouchor I Your 
face is a sufficient testimonial of whose daughter 
you are.' 

In 1749 Holland House was let on Icnso lo 
Henry Fox. * the first Lord Hollund ' of the 
present family, who Ijought it in 17'i7. It was 
occasionally let. William Penn wjis one of its 
occupiers; Sir John Chardin, the Persian tra- 
veller, another ; Atterbury's daughter, Mrp, 
Maurice, another. Atterburj's Library, indicat- 
ing his own frequent residence, was kept there. 
Ill ICSa William HI. thou{;titor making it his 
palace, but ultimately preferred tlie liouseoftliu 
Earl of Nottingham. An interesting account is 
given of Sir Stephen Fox, founder of the Fox 
family, and father of the first Bnron Holland, 
He was a choir boy in Salisbury Catlie<lral, and 
officiated .as parish clerk. Hu gradually rose, 
and was the first to announce to Charles 11., 
when playing at tennis, the death of Cromwell. 
Alter this hi:* advancement was rapid. He was 
one of the prime Ihvouriles of fortune, Evelyn 
says he amassed a great fortune, ' honestly got, 
and uncnvied ; which is next to a miracle ; and 
ho bore liis prosperity uninjured in character.' 
Ho was one of the eailieit promoters of Chel- 
sea Hospital, and was altogether a noble chor- 



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Contemporary Literature. 



acter, worthy of his f-rcat fortunes, lie niar- 
rieii liis second wife when he was seventy-six, 
anct tn*o of the children by this ninrrii^e 
wore respectively created f^rfof Itchestcr nnd 
Biron Hollnnd. The latter, Henry, was born 
in 171)5, and was the schoolfellow of Pitt (Earl 
of Chtitham), afterwards his great riral — a rival- 
ry which descended to the nest generation. 
His morality was not very cseropUry, and hta 
lovo of money amounted to avarice. Ho was 
charged with gralifyingthe latter passion at the 
cost of his country. He died in ITOS. Lord 
Bute had promised bim an earldom, in reward 
for political services — only a barony was given 
him. ' It was only a pious fraud,' said Lord 
Bute. ' I perceive the Iraud, my lord,' Fox re- 
joined, 'but not tlie piety.' His romantic mar- 
riage with Lady Caroline Lennox, eldest daugh- 
ter of the Duke of Richmond, and their treat- 
ment by the bride's father and his courtly 
friends, are rotated in detail : how Lady Caro- 
line H'l.t bidden by her father to prepare to re- 
ceive anotlier suitor, and obeyed ^y cutting off 
her eyebrows, afterwards eloping with Fox. 
Her father's letter, nller some years of banish- 
ment, is a singular exhibition of pride and 
pathos — the heart of the father beating down 
the pride of the Duke, and welcoming his child. 
It was a love-match to the end. Lady Caroline 
survived her husband only twenty-one days ; 
iitephcn, the second Lord Holland, survived his 
father only six months. It is to his brother, 
Charles Jumes Fox, that the family owes its 
chief lustre. More than Ally pages are given 
to reminiscences and aneodoles of this great ora- 
tor and statesman, who spent much of his life 
at Holland House, where lie was a spoilt child. 
' A wall was condemned, and Lord Holland h:id 
promised young Charles James tlint he should 
witness its demolition. By some accident, how- 
ever, the boy was not present when the wall was 
knocked down ; but Lord Holland, acting up to 
the principle of keeping faith even with a. child, 
had the wall built up again, in order that it might 
be demolished before his eyes.' Once the en- 
fant terribh wished to break a watch. ' Well, 
said the hther, 'if you must I suppose you 
musl.' It is sad to read that he acquired his 
taste for gambling before he was fourteen, un- 
der the auspices of his foolish father, who took 
him to Paris and SiHk. He died at Ciiiswick, and 
Ids wife, as eccentric as she was really affuction- 
ute, inlima!ed to ani'ous waiters that all was 
fiver, by passing through the ante-room with 
her kpron thrown over her head. It is difS- 
cult to rcfra.in from quoting the rirh anecdotes 
and characterisations with which the account of 
this great orator is inlaid. 

We can but .refer our readers to the lovc- 
pnssage between Geoi^ III. and Lady Sarah 
Lennox, in ITGI, when it would ajipear that a 
single word of alfected indifference hindered the 
latter of a throne. Captain Napier tells the 
story, and we regret that his manuscript has not 
been printed entire. It is as pretty a romance 
as that of Henry Fox. It seemed cruel, how- 
ever, that poor Lady Sarah had to offidate as 
bridesmaid at the King's marriage. We must 
also forego the temptation to cite from the in- 
cidents dI the remarkable social reign of the late 



115 

Lady Holland. The anecdotes of her impeii- 
ousness and rudeness are endlcs.^. Some of 
them indicato a coarseness of nature which 
mere eccentricity is not enough to account for. 
and which makes it difHcutt to understand hvr 
success. Only a very few of the anecdotes, 
scattered through the literature of the la.st half 
century, are given in these volumcK. She told 
Poodle Byng ' to remove farther off, for the 
smell of his blacking offended her.' Tapping 
on the table with her fan, she would stop Ha- 
caulay, ' Now we have had enough of this ; 
give us something else.' On one occasion sho 
sent her page to liim to tell him to stop talking, 
because she wanted to hear some one else. To 
Lord Porchester she said, ' I am sorry you are 
going to publish a poem ; can't you suppress 
it J' At a dinner-party, when Lord Duncan- 
non was leaving, she had him called back, and 
sung out to him in the doorway, ' The Duchess 
of Sutlierland can't dine here to morrow, and I 
want another woman ; bring one of your girls.' 
Sho certai[ily could say disagreeable things 
cleverly. She called John Allen her ' pet 
Atheist,' and is said to have had the burial ser- 
vice read by a clergyman over the body of a kid 
— he supposing it to have been a dauglilerjof 
her first husband. We take our leave of what 
will probably be the fashionable book of tho 
season— a diatinction which its various interest, 
literary, historical, social and chatty, well me- 
rits'; and it would seem also as if with the Hol- 
land House gatherings the mloti had disappear- 
ed in London, as it has disappeared in Paris. 

Congrtgational Hilton/ {Engl'iih and Ameri- 
can) 1567-1700 ; The ConJiUtfor Frudom, 
PurUy, aittl hiJiependente. By Jons \yAD- 
DiNGTON, D.D. London ; Printed by Sim- 
mons and Boiten, Shoe-lane, Fleet-street. 
Those of our readers who know Dr. Wad- 
dington's ' Congregational History, 1300-1567,' 
published in 1S69, wilt hail the appearance of 
this volume with deep interest. Nor will a 
careful perusal disappoint the expectations 
with which they will open it It displays the 
same unwearied industry, the same rare enthu- 
siasm for the subject, and the same extensive 
research which so remarkably distinguished its 
predecessor, and can hardly fail to be very 
gratefully appreciated, not by the historical 
student only, but also by the general reader. 

In his former volume. Dr. Waddington 
' triced the restoration of Congregational prin- 
ciple* after the eclipse caused by the Papacy, 
and their gradual development in the time ofthe 
Reformation.' In this, 'continuing this his- 
torical investigation,' he ' proceeds to exhibit 
the origin, growth, and influence of Congrega- 
tional GhuTchet, from the accession of Queen 
Elizabeth to the Revolution of 1088.' We con- 
gratulate liim on the success with which be has 
accomplished Uie second part of his great insk, 
' Those witnessing churches, called by differ- 
ent names, "'Brownista," "Barrowists," "Separ- 
atists." ■' Independents," and " Congregaiion- 
alists," opposed a steady, consistent, and in- 
vincible resistance to tho corrupting and intol- 
erant designs of the Papacy, whether of a se- 
cret and insinuating character, or in the more 



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116 

open and formidable advances aided by tho last 
of the Stuarts. In the seventeenth century thcj 
held a position of unparalleled diEBcuUy , and of 
supreme importance in relation to tbe freedom 
ttnd stability of the country. Their entire his- 
tory, indeed, from the first movement in 10S7 
to the Revolution of 1688, is that of a continu- 
ous and woll-suataincd conflict for the freedom 
of religious associatian, and of independence of 
external control. That prolonged and wcll~ 
sustained Btru^le well deserves the attention 
of statesmen and of all religious parties at the 
present hour.' Dr Waddington's volume has 
the great merit of relating the history of that 
struggle ivith a fulness of detail and a wealth 
of incident which we shall look, for in vain in 
those of any of his predecessors in the same 
field. ' Until the last few years the original 
ilocumenis essential to form the basis of this 
histoTy were cither unknown or inaccessible. 
. . . English historians repeated, without con- 
tradiction, the misstatements of Ueylin and 
Collier, so that men were surprised and do- 
lighted by tbe condescension of the historical 
writer who, in passages of splendid rhetoric, 
sketched the character and genius of Milton, 
Bunyan, and Baiter, Things are now some- 
what changed.' .Apart from denominational 
interests, it would be a groat gain to ' English 
historians,' and we may also add an almost 
greater gain to ' Hampton lecturers ' on ' Dis- 
sent' to make ' a correct acquaintance with the 
facts now brought to light.' Dr. Waddington 
has supplied ample evidence of this ; and there 
ere treasures yet to be exhumed in the Record 
Office and elsewhere, especially in the Episcopal 
and Archidiaconal Registries of the country, 
which vo hope that some one may be stimula- 
ted by bis success to diligently search for us. 
We entirely sympathiie in tbe following re- 
marks of Dr. Waddington, though we Imrdly 
think that the apology which they contain is re- 
quired:— 'An attempt might have been made to 
present the narrative in a more correct and 
popular form, and to reduce the antiquated 
diction of the papers quoted to that of our own 
lime. The imniediate success of tbe work 
probably would have been greater by such a 
transformation, but the most captivating story 
in often the lca.>it trustworthy, and its interest 
is, in consequence, evanescent. It is better in 
the present case to convince one patient and 
thoughtful reader than to amuse a thousand. 
If, therefore, the complaint should be made 
that the documents are cited in their original 
form, at too great length, it must be under- 
stood that they are so exhibited for the sake 
of exact truth, and to avoid a colouring that 
would be deceptive. .... Tbe witnesses are 
allowed Ui appear in regular succession in their 
proper garb, and to speak for themselves in 
their own manner.' In our judgment this is as 
it should be. The student, certainly, wilt re- 
gard it as one of the chief merits of the volume. 
We can quite understand that ' in collecting 
materials for this history ' Dr. Waddington 
should have 'had many weary journeys,' and 
'for years' should have ' spent days and nights 
in consuming toil.' Such researches are not to 
be made at any less expense than that which 



Contemporary I^iteruiare. 



Jan, 



ho has thus described. May he richly enjoj 
the compensation for which he works ; — ' the 
Congregational Churches of England and 
America being made acquainted with the prin- 
ciples, the character, and example of the men 
into whose latiours they have entered, and be- 
cause of whose sacrifices they now enjoy free- 
dom and security and peace.' 

Wg trust such volumes will not be long bo- 
fore they reach a second edition. Should our 
confidence be justified, we hope that Dr. Wad- 
dington will, in tho meanwhile, have reconsid- 
ered his whole system of references. Where 
there is so much to provoke further inquiry, it 
is of especial moment that everything should 
be done, so far as possible, to facilitate and en- 
courage it Indications of the sources whence 
he has derived his materials that may bo quite 
clear to one who is so familiar with them as 
Dr. Waddington, may be quite as provokingly 
vague to the ordinary or less experienced 
inquirer. Should not the titles of all printed 
books be given in full? and should not all 
MS.S. be so described that the student who 
is disposed to consult them maybeableto do 
BO without any further aid than that which is 
supplied by the reference f We also observe 
that while, as a rule, all extracts are given in 
small print, they are sometimes printed in tho 
same type as the text Several are given 
without any indication of the source from 
wbich they have been taken. Such volumes, 
too, require a very copious index. Dr. Wad- 
dington is not the man to shrink from the U- 
bour which such a desideratum would involve, 
and his are not the class of readers to grudge 
tho increased price that would bo needful to 
cover the expense. As it is, however, this 
volume well deserves a place in every well fur- 
nished library ; and we not only very thonk- 



titnony than has been furnished since Richard 
FiTz breathed hie last in the prison of the 
Bridewell,' we as cordially echo Dr. Wadding- 
ton's ' appeal,' ' to those who have wealth and 
influence to give that testimony its full effect 
by a circulation that shall reach the smallest 
church and the humblest minister in the de- 



ne UugucnoU in France after the Revocation 
of the Edkt of JTaatet, with a K«i'( to tht 
Country nftktVaudoU. By Samuel Smiles, 
Author of 'Self Help,' Ac., &c. Slrahan 
and Co. 

Mr. Smiles in his former work gave us a 
very clear and graceful account of the llugue- 
noti!, who, after the Revocation of tbe Edict of 
Nantes, came and settled in England, enriching 
this nation with their noble manners, rare in- 
dustry and inventiveness, and aptness of tnind 
in many ways. That work led us to feel the 
irony of Providence, as Mr. Smiles meant that 
it should do, for it led us to think of the other 
multitudes who migrated to other countries, 
and who became afterwords some of the strong 
and trusted instruments whereby France was 
crushed. And now Mr. Smiles makes record 
of the fate of those who remained in France 



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1874. 



Contemporary ICUerature. 



after the ReTocaticm of the Edict Hetouches 
the msin lines of the history clearly, lightly, 
but efTectively, ever followiDg hix own bent and 
grouping his illustrations of great principles 
round central and typical men. The first por- 
tion of the book is thus properly a series of 
biographies, just touched irith the enthusiasm 
which Mr. Smiles knoirs so well havr to master. 
The sketches of Claude Brousson, Cavalier and 
Antoine Court, no less than those of Calas and 
Fabrc, are deeply interesting episodes ; and in 
Hr. Smiles's volume many will become acquaint- 
ed with the heroism of a people whom no pow- 
er could crush and no policy draw from their 
stern adherence to their convictions. The 
Utter portion of the volume is not of so much 
permanent value ; but, n^vorthcles^ like every- 
thing Mr. Smiles writes, it is readable and in- 
tereuting, and conveys a good idea of the 
country where some of these noble Huguenots 
were bred. 

The Minor Worhi of Gtorge Grote, mth Cri- 
tical Remayts on kit InUlUr-lual CharafUr, 
Writiagt. and Speechei, By Aleiandbb 
Bain. John Murray. 

This, we presume, it the complement to Mrs, 
Grote's ' Personal Biography ' which we were 
in that work led to expect. We do not see, 
indeed, what more can be added, although it 
might have been better to have published the 
minor workii simply as such, and to have inclu- 
ded a formal critical estimate in the biography, 

In the present volume the critical remarks 
are given in the form of summaries of such of 
Mr. Grote's works as are not here reproduced 
in their entireness. Those which are so repro- 
duced are ' The Essentials of Parliamentary 
Reform,' — Mr. Grote's earliest work published 
in 1831 ; a review from the Spectator newspa- 
per. 1889, of Sir William Molcsworth's edition 
of the works of lioblies ; an article on ' Grecian 
Legends and Early History,' published in the 
We^tmiatleF Itetiew in 1843 — a preparatory 
study for the sixteenth and seventeenth chap- 
ters of the ' History of Greece ;' a remarkable 
article on ' Boeckb's Metrology,' published in 
the ' Clnssical Museum ' in 1R44 ; the ' Presi- 
dential Address totheCityof London Scientific 
Institution in 1846;' an 'Address on Deliv- 
ering the Prizes at Univemity College in 1848 ;' 
a review of Sir 0. C. Lewis on the ' Credibility 
of Early Roman History,' published in the Ed- 
inburgh Jleviea in 1850 ; a pamphlet on ' Plato's 
Doctrine respecting the Rotation of the Earth 
and Aristotle's Comment upon that Doctrine, 
1S60 ;' a review of John Stuart Mill on the 



of the volume is made up of a precit of three 
or four short papers on Philosophy from Mr. 
Grote's MSS. ; Abstracts of the ' Essay on Mac- 
kintosh's Parliamentary Reform,' which ap- 
peared in No. 61 of the Edinlmrgh Review j of 
the ' Review of Mitford's Greece,' from the 
WentmiMter Sattew, 182S ; of Mr. Grote's 
' Speeches in Parliament' — the sis speeches on 
tile Ballot being given by themselves. These 
abstracts are followed by a lengthened critical 



and tiie ' Aristotle.' 

It is in the latter that the critical value of 
the volume chietly consists'. Mrs. Groto has 
sufficienUy indicated the political opinions nnd 
course of her husband. Scholars will feel un- 
der a great obligation to Professor Bain for this 
very masterly abstract and criticism of (lie 
Grecian History and Philwophy. It sets forth 
Mr. Grote's almost unique qualiftcations as a 
historian. Not only had he a passion for his- 
tory and biography, he was almost equally en- 
amoured of political economy, especially in its 
practical developments. He was accomplished 
m almost every department of mental science, 
psychology, ethics, melapliysics, and logic ; in 
this combination equalled only, perhaps, by 
Hume and James Mill. In early life he was a 
devourer of novels. Professor Bain tells us 
that he had a poetical imagination, which we 
should hardly liave supposed. He bad practi- 
tical experience of commercial life, and was for 
years an active member of Parliament. 'I'here 
can be no doubt that in those manifold quali- 
fications ns a historian Mr. Grote is almost 
unique ; and there can be as little doubt that 
as the result his history is one of the few great 
histories of literature, profoundly learned, 
equally philosophical, and eminently indepen- 
dent, candid, and fearless. One has only to 
read his scathing review of the political polemic 
of Mitford to feel how impossible it was for 
Grote to subordinate history to either political 
passion or prejudice. Long as literature lasts 
and whoever may be his successor in the ex- 
haustless field of Grecian History. Mr. Grote's 
work must always hold an eminent place. 
There are few points in the wonderful drama of 
this people's life upon which he has not thrown 
fresh light, and that the pure white light of 
truth. 

Professor Bain's critique is interesting fur- 
ther in his comparative estimntei of the differ- 
ing views on important points of Mr. Gladstone, 
Mr. M'Lennan, Mr. Tyler, Sir John Lubbock, 
Professor Jowett, and othors. In the instances 
in which Mr. Grote himself gave judgment, as 
upon Mr. Gladstone's ' I|omer,' in which Mr. 
Gladstone maintains the unity of the Iliad 
against Mr, Grote's theory of its double struc- 
ture ; and upon many other points of history, 
ethnology, and religion, where ho differs from 
Mr. Grote, Professor Bain tells us how far Mr. 
Grote was convinced. Especially is it interest- 
ing to compare Mr. Gladstone's views of the 
three groat constituent elements of the State, 
the king, the senate, and the agora, in which 
he maintains that the assembly had considera- 
ble influence over the king — against Mr. Grote's 
view that the people had no status or power 
but to obey. In like manner Professor Bain in 
his critique on the ' Plato' compares Mr. 
Grote's views with those of Professor Jowett, 
especially on the Epistles, the genuineness of 
which Mr. Grote maintains, and on the Alexan- 

This volume completes, we suppose, the ho- 
ble series of volumes vthich wc owe to the gen- 
ius and industry of this great scholar. Mr. 
Grote is .one of the men of whom English lit- 



equally remnrka- 

iticipotcd a, hard 
mistake of 



118 

erature nifty well bo proud. In his ' Greece ' 
■Dd Gibbon's ' Rone ' it can boast two great 
wbrlis, which in varied leeming and intellect- 
ual genius aro without riysls in the literature of 
Europe. It is the mark of the trae scholar 
that in the minor cooipositions of this volume 
the minute care and scholarly finish are as 
great as in the history ; the sober, practical, re- 
gulating sense of his English mind, too, is as 
manifest as his great learning and philosophical 
power, A perfectly impartial history or criti- 
cism the world vrill never see, but, us every 
line of his writings shows, Mr. Grote has per- 
haps attained to this as nearly as any man can 
who is capable of strong convictions at alL 

Personal Rteolltctioni from earhj Li,fe to old 
Age, of Miry Somernillf, with Selections 
from her Correnpondence. By her daughter, 
Martha Somervii.lb. John Murray. 
Among the remarkable biographies of the 
year this autobiographical memoir of Mary 
Somerville will be not the least interesting. 
Her scientific intellect was probably greater 
than that of any of her sex ; and it is interest- 
ing to learn from the memoir that her womanly 
gcntlcjhess and delicacy wer 
ble. -Those who may have 
masculine woman, whose ae 
nature, will be i^eeably disappointed. The 
charm of true womanhood is in every page. 
Women with not a hundredth part of her intel- 
lectual strength or scientific requirements have 
a hundred times more hardness. Of rare and 
delicate beauty of person, she was diffident and 
retiring in social habit, ' startled at the sound 
of her own voice in conversation ;' i^hewas gen- 
tle and affectionate in feeling, and cultivatod 
feminine ftraces ns much as more masculine 
studies. She was an accomplished painter, a 
good musician, and had a great lore of drama- 
tic representation ; she had moreover a keen 
approdatjon of natural beauty, was an alfec- 
tionate wife and mother, and a woman of deep 
and unaffected piety. Her chief claim upon 
public respect is of course her great scienti- 
fic and mathematical powers. And this not only 
as the exceptional attainment of a woman, but 
relatively even to the most distinguished of the 
opposite sex. One whose ' Mechanism of the 
Heavens' became a Cambridge text-book, and 
which M. Poisson declared ' there were not 
twenty men in France who could read ;' whom 
La Place, liiot, Arago, Sir John Herschel, 
Brewster, Whowell, Sedgwick, Airy, Faraday, 
and ecoroH of others, almost as illustrious, hon- 
oured as their equal, and from whom they pro- 
fessed to have learned ; and who was made a 
member of half the learned societies in Europe, 
could not have been merely complimented as a 
learned woman. She was recognised as an or- 
iginal contributor to science. Her genius for 
mathematics is evinced the more remarkably, 
inasmuch as, until mature years, she was not 
only ignorant of Algebra, but had to discover 
it for herself. ' I was surprised to sec ' in a 
magazme of fashion, ' stnnge looking lines 
mixed with letters, chiefly X's and Y's, and 
asked " What is that ?" " Oh," said Miss 
Ogilvie, "it is a kind of arithmetic— they call it 



Contemporary/ Literature. 



Jaii> 



Algebra — but I can tell you nothing about it ;" 
and we talked about other things ; but on go- 
ing home 1 thought I would look if any of 
our books could trll me what was meant by 
Algebra.' It was, however, not until Mr. Craw 
came to be tutor to her brother ilcnry, some 
time afterwards, that she got any information, 
and was introduced to ' Euclid,' and Bonny- 
castle's 'Algebra.' She had, however, to begui 
her arithmetic again, having forgotten much of 
it. ' I never was expert at addition, for in 
samming up a long column of pounds, shillings, 
and pence, in the family account book, it sel- 
dom came out twice the same way.' From this 
time her progress was rapid, and her knowledge 
was self- acquired. She was thirty-three years 
of age before, at the recommendation of Profes- 
sor Wallace, of Fdlnburgh, she went though 
any r^ular course of mathematical and astro- 
nomical reading, or possessed any works on 
the subject!. ' I could hardly believe that I 
possessed such a treasure when I looked back 
on the day that 1 first saw the mysterious 
word " Algebra," and the long course of years 
in which 1 had persevered almost without hope. 
It taught me never to despair. I had now the 
means, and pursued my studies with increased 
assiduity. Concealment was no longer possi- 
ble, nor was it attempted. I was considered 
eccentric and foolish, and my conduct was 
highly disapproved of by many, especially by 
some members of my own family.' Her first 
husband, Mr. Gr^, did not prevent her from 
studying, but she says, ' I met with no sympa- 
tliy whatever from him, as he had a very low 
opmion of the capacity of toy sex, and had 
neither knowledge of, nor interest in, science of 
any kind.' After three years she was left a wi- 
dow with two little boys. Dr. Somerville, her 
second husband, was a man of very difTerent 
sympathies ; he was a fine scholar, and dis- 
tinguished in several branches of natural sci- 
ence, and was justly proud of the genius of his 
wife. Her married life with him was singu- 
larly aflectionate and happy ; he was never 
happier than in helping her, searching libraries 
for her, and copying her mnnuscripts, to save 
her time and strength. One of his sisters, 
however, unmarried, and younger than she, 
wrote an impertinent letter to her on her mar- 
riage, ' hoping I would give up my fooli.sh man- 
ner of life and studies, and make a respectable 
and useful wife to her brother.' 

The volume is by no means a scientific one. 
Indeed there is very little in it that is in any 
sense scientific. It is full of human interest 
for the general reader. Mrs. Soraerville's fam- 
ily connexions, as well as her scientific attain- 
ments, brought her into contact with most of 
the notable persons of her day in almost every 
branch of science, literature, and art ; and her 
'Recollections' are full of interesting anec- 
dotes and reminiscences. Mrs. Somerville tells 
of her own mother, who was crossing the 
Firth of Forth in a boat, the well-known anec- 
dote ; " George, this is an awful storm, I am 
sure we are in great danger. Mind how you 
steer, remember! trust in you." He laughed 
and said, " Dinna trust in me, loddy, trust in 
God Almighty." Our mother in perfect terror 



oy Google 



1874. 

called out, " Dear roe ! is il come to that ?" 
We burst out laughing, skipper and all' 

Talking one day at Abbotsford about one o( 
the then anonymouB Waverley Novels which 
had just appeared, Mrs. SranerviUe'a Bon said, 
' 1 knew all these stories long ago. for Mr, 
Scott writes on the dinner table. When he 
has 'finiBhed he pule the grcerj-cloth with the 
papers in a corner of the dining-room ; and 
when he goes out Charhe ^cott and 1 road the 
stories.' Mrs. Somerville nays that her son's 
tutor was the original of ' Dominie Sampson.' 
Mr. Adams told Mrs. Somervillc that it was a 
sentence of ' The Connexion of the Physical 
Sciences,' which put it into bis head to calcu- 
late the orbit of Neptune. Mrs. SomerTille 
died at Sorrento in November, 1672, having 
been born in December, 1T80. She was able 
to read books on the higher Algebra four or 
five hours every morning to the last day of her 
life. This is m every vray one of the most 
fascinating books that we have lately read. 

Life of WiUinw. Etl!», Mmionary to the Smtk 
Seiti and to Madagatear. By his Son John 
EiiiEO Ellis. With a Supplemoatary Chap- 
ter containing an estimate of his Character 
and Work, by Hesrv Allos, D.D. John 
Murray. 

This volume recites the story of a holy life 
which is charged with fine enthusiasm anil 
diversified with an cicoeding variety of roman- 
tic adventure and thrilling incident The stu- 
dent of natural history will be rewarded hy 
many a fact gleaned from the world-wide 
travel of the heroic missionary. The artist 
will be fairly enchanted with some of the bril- 
liant word-painting with which this truthful 
explorer depicts tiie glades of the tropical 
forests and the horrors of the simoom and the 
watcr-spout. The religious reader fascinated 
by tlie records of the supernatural powers of 
tiie kingdom of God will value this sketch of 
many fields of missionary enterprise. Those 
who wish their memory refreshed with the 
strange, tragic, sublime story of the Mada- 
gascar Mission must read the works of Mr. 
KUis. The son has, however, ^rftn-n with Ann 
and masterly hand the part his father took in 
the conflict with French diplomacy, heathen 
malic(>, and Jesuitical intrigue. Above all the 
religious enthusiasm of Mr. Ellis gleams forth 
from these pages, and bis divine passion of 
philanthropy reminds the readier of ,the early 
Catholic missionaries and the noble army of self- 
sacrificing men who never paused in their eager 
work till death surprised them in the midst of 
their labours. Wehavoin reading been frequent- 
ly reminded of Las Casas, of Howard, of John 
Wesley, and of Henry Martyn. The record 
of this beautiful life, and of the principal 
events, discoveries, and successes that distin- 
guished it, has long been accessible to those 
who care to read the memoirs of missionary 
enterprise ; the ' Polynesian Itesearclios ' of 
William Ellis, his ' Tour in Hawaii,' his 
'Three Visits to Madagascar,' his ' History of 
Madagascar,' ' Madagascar Rerisited,' and 
' Martyr-Church of Madagascar,' — to say no- 
thing of many other works, articles in Ency- 



Contemporary Liltrattare. 



119 

clopeedias, and stirring pamphlets bearing on 
missionary enthusiasm or policy — have. made 
his name a household word wherever either 
' natural history ' or ' modern missions ' ei- 
cites the slightest interest. The volume before 
us supplies the living thread which connects 
these scones and deeds of holy enthusiasm 
and childlike faith. It is another proof bow 
independent and how unconscious of self real 
genius is. Another illustration is here given 
that when God requires a seryant for his work 
he docs not always summon an hereditary . 
priest, or a pupil of the older prophets, or a 
pledged ascetic, or an educated scholar \ He 
goes to the ' herdsmen,' to the shepherd boys, 
to the Galilean fishermen or carpenters, and 
finds the man that is to receive His word, to 
bear His messi^e, and to do His work in the 
world. Another proof is supplied, of that 
which some nre most unwilling to admit, tliat 
when God wants a workman He wilt often set 
all human rules, prescriptions, and expecta- 
tions at defiance. Mr. Ellis was in the strictest 
sense self-educated. The training he received 
in domestic service, and in market gardening, 
and in one year of promiscuous preparation for 
the missionary's life, under the auspices of 
the London Missionary Society, are wholly 
insufficient to explain the success which cha- 
racterized his labour in the South Sea Islands. 
He rapidly disclosed an almost universal 
faculty. Nothing camo amiss to him, and he 
seemed to do many things equally well, from 
building a house or boat, to writing a descrip- 
tion of the great volcanic crater of Hawaii 
worthy of Ruskin. to printing a grammar, or 
to revising the Tahitian or MalagsKy transla- 
tion of the sacred Scriptures. The simple 
heroism, boundless energy, and self forgetting 
consecration of Mr.Ellis are very admirably exhi- 
bited by his son in these pages. Dr. Alton, in 
his comprehensive and appreciative estimate of 
Mr. Ellis's cliaracter, is able, from long and 
intimate acquaintance with him, to echo the 
exclamation of the noble-hearted, strong- 
minded, loving wife — ' No one can know how 
good he is.' 

Mr. Ellis had a task of extraordinary difficulty 
and complexity before bim in each of liis visits 
to Madagascar. With the shrewdness and 
coolness of the practised diplomatist, with the 
courage of the martyr, and a fine enthusiasm 
for the supreme object of his life, h 3 weathered 
the storm which Jesuitical intrigue, rancorous 
Frencli Catholic jealousy, heathen malignity, 
and missionary rivalries combined to raise 
around bim, and he lived to see the results of 
his energy in the insiitutions he had con- 
structed, and the law.i and treaties he had 
assisted to make in powerful and promising 
hands. 

The present volume is written in a charm- 
ing, easy, unambitious style. It introduces 
the home life of Mr. Ellis, and supplies touch- 
ing bic^raphical sketches of the two remark- 
able women who were hi^ companions and 
comforters. The first Mrs. Ellis was a miracle 
of endurance, of patient suffering, of quiet 
enthusiasm, and holy self -forget ting love. 
The second jMra. Eifis, with deserved reputa- 



oogle 



ISO 

lion of her own, is brieRj introduced as an 
RuthoresB, artist, and instructress of joutK. 
Those who knew Mfr. Ellis well, will regret 
that more of her does not appear in the narra- 
tiTe. Her beautiful patience, hor refined 
humour, her glorious sympathy with her hus- 
band during bis long absencei^ her cheerful, 
largeheartod Ioto, endeared her to all who 
came wiliiin the nu^ic of bar personal influ- 
ence and ber extraordinary conversational 
powers. Tbe playful sketch of the household 
favourites, of the orchid house, and the beauti- 
ful domestic life of Rose-hill is a charmin;; 
■ ■ gic, eii:iting 
Some bio- 
graphers would with Bucb ample materials 
^ve eicpanded tbe narrative into a work three 
times its present magnilude. We admire 
extremely tho self-restraint, the conciseness, 
the sympathy, and reverence with which the 
present writer has discharged his task, and wc 
thank him heartily for bis portraiture of one 
of tbe most simple, noble, and single- hearted 
servants of Christ of whom we have ever 

Autoliiography of Thomaa Oathrw, D.D., and 

Mrmoir. By bis Sons, tbe Revs. D. K. 

GuTHHiE and Charles J. Quthrib. M.A. 

Volume I. W. Isbister and Co. 

Here we have the Brat portion of a pleasant 
record of a well-spent life. Dr. Thomas 
Quthrie was a man of peculiar healthiness and 
breadth of character \ and, \l he lacked a little 
the delicacy that comes of intellectual distinc- 
tion, his genuine manliness always saved him 
from mere rhetoric on the one hand, and from 
any share whatever in airy and ill-advised 
schemes on tbe other. He was a true Scotch- 
man, in that be combined uncommon caution 
with uncommon intensity ; wonderful reti- 
cence, self-control, and good sense with a 
restrained humour that lightened up and justi- 
fied a peculiar egotism, and an imagination 
that always seemed on the point of exhausting 
itsolf, yet never did so ; for, during these last 
days at St, Leonards he seems to have been in 
this respect as fresh and vigorous and child- 
like and playful and Anecdotic as when he 
wandered about Arbirlot among the peasants 
of his first seaside parish listening to their 
stories and drawing them out further by other 
stories of his own. What belter proof could 
be given of all this 'than the autobiography 
which we hare in our hand T Here is no 
record of spiritual frames and feelings ; over 
all this Dr. Guthrie significBntly draws a veil, 
notwithstanding — and now could it be else F — 
that be indirectly conveys many bints of bis 
spiritual life. But like his strong-minded 
grandmother— of whom be tells that she went 
into solitude and fasted one day a week, none 
knew wAi/, and was yet so practical that she 
Aoon settled off her favourite son's love-affair, 
having to see any matter hanging unsettled 
when settlement off or on was possible — Dr. 
tiuthrie prefers to deal with what is external, 
and may be of practical service ; and this be 
does in tho most lightsome manner. Even with 
th} shadows of tho i^ve creeping close around 



Contemporary Literature. 



Jan. 



bira, he can look back on hts past with a quiet 
hoDCKt smile, and rehearse its leading incidents 
heartily, no weakness nor fear betraying itself. 
Surely in this we have tbe highest testimony 
to the spirituality of the man, and the power 
of a life lived religiously not only to preserve 
the intellect but to stay the will. It is a sad 
reproach on the ' Moderates ' of the day that 
for five or six years such a man as (his should 
have been without a cure, during !ill that time 
ily some five guineas by the oier- 
nisterial functions; and though be 
drew practical wisdom, which was afterwards 
Berviccable to him, from the bank-managing to 
which he betook himself foraconsiderable por- 
tion of thatperiod,nocredit for this can be given 
to tbe men who tried to cmsh him because he 
was open in telling them what his eeclesiaslical 
views were. His mother had actually left the 
Established Church and joined the Seccdcrs 
because of an 'intruded' minister, and the 



haps, there never was a man loss fitted to be a 
polemic, he did the an li -patronage cause all 
the more service on that account when once 
the lime had come and others had led the way 
to the breach. He was by instinct an orator ; 
and never was he more truly eloquent than on 
tbe platform during the 'Ten years' conflict,' 
and just after it Even his speeches on behalf 
of the Ra^ed School which be founded, and 
with which his name is now so identified, were 
not more stirring than some of his disruption 
orations. But it will fall to his sons to tell of 
these matters in their second volume. Mean- 
while we gladly call attention to this instal* 
ment, which has a certain sad completeness of 
its own ; for, though the sons have added cer- 
tain chapters to the father's most humorous, 
gossiping aiitobiograpliy, these are strictly in 
ihe nature of supplements, and do not carry 
the narrative further down than it goes — to 
1841, the eve of the Disruption. It is, of 
course, much to be rcgretled thai Dr. Guthrie 
did not live to carry bis own record past tlie 
great crisis ; but, there is one consolation, — 
materia! then becomes abundant ; and if wo 
may judge from tiie intelligence, care, skill, 
and taste with which this volume is edited, 
the memoir will deserve all success, and take 
its place among the standard works of its 

RieoUection* of tke Emptror N'-ipoltoa on the 
Mand of St. Helenn : including the Time of 
hi* Reiidence at Iter F-ithtr'i U«u»e, ' The 
Brian: By Mrs. Auell. Third edition. 
Revised and added to by ber daughter, Mrs. 
Cliaries Johnstone. Sampson Low and Co. 
Mrs. Abell's very charming 'Recollections' 
are well known to students of Napoleonic lite- 
rature. She was a child of thirteen when Na- 



comb, purveyor for tbe Emperor, until Long- 
wood was ready for him. She was beautiful 
and wild, and alter tho first strangeness was 
got over played all manner of madcap tricks 
with the Emperor, who had as mucli delight in 



doiGoogIc 



187*. 

mulual tcnsi'igR as Elie htul. The book is a 
simple recorJ of htr personal intercourse with 
the Emperor ; and is very interesting as show- 
ing the kindness of Napoleon's nature. It is 
in Itiis respect like Uoethe's 'Correspondence 
with a CliiUl.' Mrs. Johnstone adds an appen- 
dix containing anecdotes and reiuinisccnces of 
Napoleon Il[. No wonder that both mother 
and daughter are fervent Imperialist.^. 

Julm Bimyan: An, Autobtogrnpliy. With II- 
lustrnlions by Mr. E. N, Downaiid; cni^aved 
by Mr. Edwahd Wiivjipeb. Religious 
Tract Society. 

Mftcanlay ju.stU characterized ' Dunyan'a 
Grace Abounding ' as ' one of the most remar- 
kable pieces of aulobio;;raphy in the world.' 
It is here reproduced, with the omission of cer- 
tain portions that are not strictly autobiogra- 
phical, liunyan's own ' relation ' of his arrest 
nnd examination before the justices, tlrst pub- 
lished in Sir. Offer's edition of Bunyan's 
works; and the ' Continuntion of Mr. Bunyan's 
Life,' which Mr. Offer appends to the ' dela- 
tion,' are added ; so that we hove heie a. life uf 
Bunyan almost entirely from his own pen. It 
is clearly printed and admira'jty illustrated, 
and is a clieap and elegant gift book for the 

Lift of the See. William Andemon, LL.D. 
By (imiiiisE Gii.FiLLA-i. Hodder and SCough- 

Mr. Gilfillan has found a cmgeniiil subject 
for biiigriiphy in the sturdy, resniulo, unconj- 
promising, witty, nnd eloquent Dr. Anderson 
—a man who was greater than his works, and 
who has left beliind him, in Glasgow, and wc 
might add in Scotland itself, a name and a 
memory that will bo revered for many a year 
to corn e. To Englishmen he is chiefly known 
us the author of one or two theological works, 
or ToluTnes of theolt^ical sermons, which on 
their publication won for hiui no mean place as 
a vigorous thinker, a keen critic, and an ear- 
nc-'t minister. There was in him that fascinat- 
ing comiiination ' of gigantic strength and 
womanly tenderness 'which is so often disco- 
vered in the laigcst n-itures ; and he was capa- 
ble of exciting enthusiasm even in those who 
were compelled to controvert his theology. 
Scotchmen may well point to him as a noble 
rcprcsentntivc specimen of the kind of men 
which their counirj and its education can prO' 
duce. U'e are nnt surprised, therefore, that 
Mr. Gillillan has written this 'Life' in a sort of 
white heat of loving enthusia.sm. It was im- 
possible to come under the spell of Dr. Ander- 
son's influence without being subdued and 
charmed, even against one's will ; and we can 
perfectly understand that he should be a very- 
hero among mon to his intimate friends and to 
multitudes of admirers. Tliis biography has 
just those defects which naturally arise when 
profound affection and reverence inspire the 
writer's mind. Judged alone by what Mr. Gil- 
fillan here says, wc should suppose that a 
greater preacher and a nobler man had never 
existed in Scotland or out of it, and, even out 
of justice to the luemory of Dr. Anderson him- 



Contemporary Lilerature. 



121 

self, we are obliged to deduct something from 
his description. Vet wo are Ihankful for the 
Story of this earnest life, which deserves lo be 
read by all ministers and students. It is full 
of suggestions, and will be very precious to all 
who had the privilege of knowing the doctor 
himself. Some extracts from his published 
and unpublished writings are given, which are 
valuable in themselves, and enable us the bet- 
ter to understand his power as a thinker and 
preacher. 

The Ojforil Mcthodiitt ; Memoirt of the Ren. 
MfiT*. CUiyton, Ingham, Oantbohl. UerTty, 
and Brau/jhton ; vith ISiographienl A'otieet 
of ethers. By Rev. I,. Tykkm.vn, Author of 
the I^Life and Times of Iho Rev. S. Wesley, 
M.A. ;' and the 'Life and Times of the Rev. 
John Wesley, M.A., Founder of the Metho- 
dists.' Kodder and Stoughton. 
Readers of Mr. Tyerman's previous volumes 
wi'j" be especially thankful for tiiis ' coinpanion,' 
It IS distinguished by all the excellences of its 
predecessors, and completes a very valuable 
contribution to llie history of the great revival 
of the last century. Many will liardly be pre- 
pared for much that Mr. 'lyerman lias brought 
to light with regard lo the 'Oxford Methodists,' 
especially their cnily ' Ritualism.' ' They 
communicated at Christ Church once a week, 
and persuaded all they could to attend public 
prayers, aemions, and sacraments. . . . They 
also observed the discipline of the Church of 
England to the minutest point ; and were sci'u- 
putously strict in practising the rubiics and 
canons. Every Wednesday and Fridiiy they 
fasted, tasting no food whatever till tliree 
o'clock in the afternoon. Though perhaps 
they never held the doctrine of the huuian na- 
ture of the Divine Redcenier being present in 
the elements of the holy sacrament, tlioy held 
something approaching this, and spoke of " an 
outward sacriHce offered therein." They 
more than approved of tho mixture of water 
with tho sacramental wine ; and religiously ob- 
served saints' days, holidays, nnd Saturdays. 
They maintained tho doctrine of apostolical 
succession, and believed no one had authority 
to administer the sacraments who was not epit- 
eopally ordained. Even in Georgia, Wesley 
excluded Dissenters from the holy communion, 
on the ground that they had not been property 
baptized, and would himself baptize only by 
immersion, unless the child, or person, was in 
a weak slate of health. He also cnfurced con- 
fession, penance, and mortification ; and, as for 
as possil>lo, carried into execution the apostolic 
constitutions. In short, with the exception of 
sacerdotal millinery, the burning of incense, 
the worship of the Virgin, prayers for the 
dead, and two or three other kindred supersti- 
tions, the Oxford Methodists were the predeces- 
sors of the present Jliiualittie party in the 
Church of England.'— Pp. fi, 7. Remembering 
some other chapters in tho religious history of 
onr country, and notably that which records 
the annals of the later Puritans, we have great 
sympathy with Mr. Tyerman when he says — 
' Mny we not indulge the hope that what God 
did fur the Oxford Methodists, Ue will do for 



Contemporary ZiUerature. 



122 

those nt the pref;ent day, who, in most rcapects, 
leseinbie Uium t . . . . The Churth, the na- 
tion, and the world need their energy, Eumest- 
nfss, sclf-deniiil, and devotion. Let them lay 
aside their popish rolliesand proud pre ten siona, 
and embrace the truth of Christ in its simplici- 
ty and its purity, and, nl least, eoroe of them 
may, under God, acconiplish a work oh great 
and as blessed as vras nccomplished by Wesley 
and his " Holy Club." ' Mr. Tycrman tells ua 
that his ' book is not a series of trrittcn por- 
traits.' We arc Ihankrul that ho set himscir a 
far more useful task, to ' simply ' do his ' best 
in coUeclin); faels from every source within ' his 
' reach,' and to narrate them 'as .truly and as 
lucidly as' he 'could.' His volume is a. very 
sensonable one, and will ho read by niunbers 
witli great interest, and not a little profit. 

Jtei-oVixtiom of My Oten Life and Timei. By 
TifoitAS Jackson. Edited by the Rev. B. 
Fkanklano, B.A. ; with nn Introduction Hnd 
a Postscript by G. Osboks, D.D. Wcsloy- 
an Conference Office. 

The autobiography of a public and able man, 
who hus filled the highest positions in the reli- 
^ous body to which he belongs, and who had 
therefore special opportunities of knowing men 
and things, and who lived to see his niiictielh 
year, nitist necessarily be full of interesL The 
records of Methodism are rich in autobiogra- 
phies, but probably it does not possess one of 
greater importance, both denominational and 
general, than this of the vi-nerable Thomas 
Jackson. It abounds in reminisconces of the 
most celebrated Methodist preachers; it records 
interesting and important developments of 
Methodism itself. The 'contrasts between the 
internal life and external relations of Method- 
ism seventy years ago and now are very pictU' 
resqiiQ and su^cstive. Mr, Jackson gives ua 
details of his own circuit experiences when he 
first became a Wesleyan preacher in 1804 — of 
liis arduous labours, his rough travelling and 
rougher lodging, his lack of literature, and the 
character of the Wesleyan societies — which are 
like a chapter out of antediluvian history. Is 
it possible that 1943 will present so great a 
contrast to 1873? Everywhere, the piety, 
(spiritual aims, intense zeal, and cheerful self- 
socriHce of the Wesleyan preachers are uncon- 
sciously brought into full relief. It is a fresh 
deinonstration of what England owes to them 
religiously, and an overwhelming rebuke to the 
Pliaiisaic dogmatism that would disallow or 
brand as illicit their ministry. Mr. Jaclfson's 
own character was very siniplo and beautiful. 
The reverence and lovo which gathered around 
him in his last years were tlie legitimate fruit 
of liis lofty character. Ids simple and glowing 
piety, and his abounding labours, both as a 
jircacher' and an author. 'We regret that we 
cannot cull from this interesting volume a 
few of iis abounding sketches, anecdotes, and 
narratives, illustrative of both the man and his 
times. Uur personal respect and reverence for 
the grand old patriarcli almost disables our cri- 
ticism ; but we should not be just if we did not 
say that Mr. Jackson's love to Methodism, al' 
though not too fervent, was too exclusive and 



Jan. 



jealous, and therefore blind and disabling ; and 
made him unjust to those who ventured to dit 
fer from his estimates. He was one of the old 
Tories of Methodism. His reverence for the 
Establishment makes him pass hari^h judgment 
upon Nonconformists, who were figliting bat- 
tles for religious liberties, in which Methodism 
has had its full share of benefit. His intense 
Methodist feeling prompts him to say very 
sharp, not to say unjust words of Dr. Warren, 
Mr. Everett, and others, who doubtless, in ma- 
ny things to blame, were fighting for liberty, 
against what many of tlie wisest and most 
faithful adherents of Methodism regni'd very 
undesirable powers of Conference government. 
Via liave neither the inclination nor the means 
of pronouncing judgment concerning I'itlier of 
the schi.'ima that have convulsed the Methodist 
liody. We simply venture to think that Mr. 
Jackson's judgments are loo unqualified and 
rindictive. This seems to have been charac- 
teristic Ho condemns with severity Mr. Wil- 
berforce's educa^on of his children, inasmuch 
as tlie late Bishop of Winchester was n high 
Cliurchman, while one or two of his brotliera 
became Roman Catholics. Such a judgment 
compels us to ask whether, if the principle of 
judgment be true, it is not also applicable to 
Methodist ministers, sons of whom have be- 
come clci^ymcn of a very pronounced Ritualis- 
tic character. But tlieso arc only blemishes in 
a very fine character. 

The Thrahold of the Uninoien Ilegion. By 
Clements R. Markhau, C.B. Samp.son Low 
and Co. 

Mr. Markham's book may be regarded as the 
manifesto of science i^inst the puling senti- 
mentality that denounce.s Arctic exploration on 
account of its perils, and against the penurious 
pettiness of the Government which refuses to 
aid it on account of its expense. In Mr. Mark- 
ham's reprobation of both we most heartily 
concur, on the grounds of both our past 
glorious traditions of Arctic discovery, our pre- 
sent discipline of hardihood, bravery, and en- 
terprise, and of future scientific acquisitions. 
Each of these reasons might be expanilcd into 
a Strong argument. It would be humiliating 
were we who have led the van in Arctic cxplo- 
ration in bygone days, when appliances were 
scant, and our national wealth not a tithe of 
what it now is— who have done most, and ap- 
proached nearest the grand achievement of 
reaching tlie Pole, to leave the last UDO miles to 
be done by Sweden, Russia, or Austria, all of 
whom are liberally devoting their energies to 
the enterprise. It would he u national humili- 
ation, as great as Lord Palmerston's antago- 
nism to the project of the Suez Canal, of 
which no Englishman can think without 
shame. That the spirit of enterprise and pow- 
er of endurance have not diminished in Eng- 
lishmen there are indications enough in African 
travel, Alpine climbing, and nautical adventure. 
That important resulLs to science in most of its 
important branches will reward the discovery 
of the Pole, Mr. Markham, in his concluding 
chapter, has abundantly demonstrated. Per- 
haps he underrates both (bo peril and the co»t ; 



doiGoogle 



Contemporary LUeratiire. 



1874. 

but the former \s comparatively Email. Livin<;- 
fitone lias undergone more anil greater perils 
than tlie Arctic eiplorcrs of a century — the 
fate of tlie brave Frankltn notwithstnnding — 
and vhat \s £20,000 to a nation like our« ? 
We were asliameil when we read Ur. Lone's 
letter to Sir fl, Kawiinsow, more worthy 
of n shopkeeper than of tlie Finance Minis- 
ter of England, urging; the expense of tlie Chal- 
lengtr as a reason why another such burden 
should not be Iniil upon English tajc-payers. 
We trust the feeling of the nation nil! be un- 
mistakably expressed, that while wasteful 
contracts, even for a thousand pounds, will not 
be tolerated, no reasonable expense for ade- 
quate scientific results will be grudged. 

Mr. Markham trarerses the border of tho 
unknown circle round the North Polo, and 
narrates the history of discovery at each 
point ; succinctly and clearly giving a com- 
plete synopsis of Arctic enterprise and achiovc' 
mcnt, down to the voyage of the Pulnrit. His 
work would have gained in interest had expan- 
sion been possible — especially in his biograph- 
ical sketches — but of course he could not 
within reasonable limits have done more than 
be has done. 

He differs from Captain Wells, whose well- 
written work we noticed in our last number. 
He thinks that ' Ibe idea that Uie Polar Basin 
is composed of an open sea, only here and 
there covered with, drift ice, is in itself so con- 
trary to all Biperience, that it scarcely merits 
refutation.' lie contends also, and with great 
force, in favour of Davis' Straits, as the most 
facile and remunerative route. Without deny- 
ing Captain Wella' argument that thero is 
more i;e, he ui^s that sledges may be used ; 
and that far more scientific rcsulls are to be 
realized by a coast or land journey than by a 
sea voyage. He likewise differs from Captain 
Wells, in strenuously urging a Government 
expedition. While he would leave the Spitz- 
bergen route to private enterprise — such as 
that of the gallant Leigh Smith, be thinks that 
the other route should bo attempted b; Gov- 
ernment, with all the appliances of steam and 
modern science, and that success would almost 
certainly, with our present knowledge of tho 
condition of Arctic travel, reward such an en- 
terprise. Arctic explorers speak with but one 
voice on this point ; and the potty economy of 
a Chancellor of tho E.xchoquer will not be able 
long to wjithsland the urgencies of science, 
pluck, and national pride. We cannot notice 
any of the details of Mr. Markham';; book ; 
one interesting point is that America was re- 
ally discovered in the year 1001, by Lief, son 
of Eric the Red, but we heartily commend it, 
as a compendious account of all that has been 
done in Arctic exploration. 

L\fe, Vi'anilcrinQ*, and Lnhoiir$ in Eaitera 
Africa. By CiiAHt.ES Kbw. With Maps 
and Illustrutions. llodder and Stoughtott^ 
Mr. New'has for eleven years been a mission- 
ary of tbo United Methodist Free Churches, 
and has laboured on that part of the east coast 
of Africa, which is one or two degrees north of 
Zanzibar, near Mombasa. Dr. Erapf 



123 

pioneer of both missions and modem travel in 
this part of Africa. He established the Mombas 
mission to the Wanika, and effected much for 
future Christian enterprise. Mr. Neiv, incited 
by bis statements, volunteered to follow up his 
labours, and fixed his station at Ribe, a few 
miles from tho coast, a little north of Mombasa, 
Hence he made an excuruon to the Gallacoun- 
try, in the north — the district lying near For- 
mosa Bay ; and another, due east to tho fam- 
ous equatorial snowy mountain of Kilima Njaro, . 
20,000 feet high, which he was the Hrst to 
ascend. The very existence of it indeed had 
been questioned. 'Who are you' said the 
Cliaga people. ' that you should ascend tho 
mighty Kilima Njarof Haven't our people 
tried it again and again withoutsuccess?' Tho 
ascent was a very arduous one, especially on 
account of the ignorant chicken-hearted Wach- 
aga and Wanika men, whom alone Mr. Now 
could obtain. The first attempt failed, but the 
second was successful. The wonder of the 
Wachaga men at snow is amusingly told. Mr. 
New describes the inhabitants of the district, 
and renews the impression of missionary de- 
votedness with which the religious history of 
tho century is so full, and nbich is so easy a 
theme for cynical scorn in those who can nei- 
ther imagine its constraint nor exercise its self- 
sacrifice. He gives an account of the language 
of the natives, the flora, geography, ethnology, 
temperature, Ac, of this part of Africa. He 
makes some wise suggestions about tho slave 
trade, briefly vindicates his part in the prc»- 
ceedings at Zanzibar in connection with tho 
Livingstone expedition, with a forbearance 
towards Mr. Stanley, which, in connection with 
certain facts which lie states, is very suggest- 
ive. It is enougli here to remind our readers 
that the Royal Geographical Society fully ex- 
onerated him in their report. They say that 
' having heard from him a full explanation of 
the circumstances under which he acted they 
acquit him of all blame, and place it on 
record that he has in no way forfeited their 
confidence." Mr, New's book makes no pre- 
tensions to literary merit. He uses his person- 
al pronouns very wildly. He is sometimes 
groat in the editorial ' we,' and sometimes hum- 
ble in the personal '1.' His missionary life 
accounts for this, although it would not have 
been difficult to have got some one to read the 
proofs ; but the book is one of sterling value 
and great interest 

Under a Tropical Sly. A Journal of First 
Impressions of the West Indies. By Jou^f 
Ahphlett. Sampson Low and Co, 
If the style and literary finish of this author 
were equal to bis temper, amiability, and good 
fortune, his ' First Impressions of the West 
Indies ' would be more readable. It would be 
difficult to mention any modern production 
where more feeble remark chased less vivid 
description over the page. The artlessnesa of 
tbo narrative in some measure redeems the 
common-place, hut the information is of the 
most superficial character. Still, if any of our 
readers should meditate a trip to Barbadoes, 
Demerara, or Jamaica, they would find Mr. 



oo^^le 



124 

Amphlett's chit-chat not unpIcR»int compan- 
ionship, and would bo prepared for a multi- 
tude of detitilB that would, after such fore- 
warolng. lose their power to inflict serious an- 
noyance. The long description of a mosquito 
bite is amusing but it would bs rerj mislead- 
ing for oriiinarj flesh to suppose that a little 
red spot is all that needs to be feared from 
Bucb a fcnet aa our author describes. Butter- 
flies wore obvioustja great point with him ; if 
ho had Kiimrncd up his successes in their cap- 
ture he might have added to the value of his 
book, Thfi pracUcal conclusion of the whole 
nuitter is, that persons afflicted with ' a tire- 
some cough ' might most pleasantly avoid an 
English winter by a visit to ttie tropical islands, 
or to the mainland of Southern America. 
' Living is cheap, ^ovisions are good and 
abundant, and every European comfort and 
luxury is to be obtained in the principal 
hotels.' 

Ja irUtorifal Allot of Ancient Ocogra}>hti, 
JiUiiir.at aivl ChutUnl. Compiled under the 
superintendence of Dr. William Smith and 
Mr. Ohotg. Part HL John Murray. 
The first map in this part is a very finely 
executed one of the South of Palestine, in the 
construction of which it is to be presumed the 
latest results of the survey of Palestine have 
been used. Very much, yet, however, remains 
uncertain ; and we should have been glad if 
the Palestine maps of the Atlas had been with- 
held for a few months, until the results of the 
survey now going on had been, to a greater ci- 
tent, realized. We observe that contrary to 
the popular tradition that the brook Cherith 
of Elijah ran through the Wady Kelt, a little 
south of Jericho, according to the statement of 
Joscphu.B, that Elijah went south ; and, con- 
trary to Mr. Urove's own conclusions in the 
' Bible Dictionary,' that it ran into the Jordan 
from the east, it is in the map placed in the 
Wady Reshshaah, running into the Jordan 
from the west as far north as Shiloh. The 
American explorations in Moab and Oilead 
will, doubtless, furniHh rich materials for filling 
up the blanks on the east of the Jordan. The 
other maps in the part are part of Asia, as far 
south as [at 2%', and east as long. 4U°, includ- 
ing Egypt and the eastern end of the Hediter- 
ranean^to illustrate the Old Testament and 
classical authors ; Northern Greece, including 
Hellas, Epirus, Thessalia, and Macedonia ; 
Central Greece, including Attica, Bceotia, Lo- 
cris, Phocis, Doris, Malis ; Hispania ; the 
World, as known to the ancients ; and Asia 
Minor, at four difTerent periods. We can only 
repeat the expression of our great admiration 
of this scholarly and sumpluous work. 

PkytUid Geographt/. By Arnold Guvot. 

Sampson Low and Co. 

This new volumecomplctes Professor Guyot'a 
Geographical Series ; and in his preface he 
takes graceful leave of the ' youth of oor 
schools and their teachers ;' not, however, 
without an intimation that if a manual for the 
mature student and the scientific public at large 
be demanded, it will be forthcoming. It is im- 



Contemporary Literature. 



Jan. 



possible to speak too highly of the admirably 
arranged and compressed information concern- 
ing the physical structure of the earlh which 
Professor Guyot here gives. There is scarcely 
a needless word in the volume. It is informa- 
tion under hydraulic pressure, and yet so 
complete, that it Is a sufficient manual for any 
schoolboy or ordinary student A scries of 
admirable maps illustrate the difTerent sections, 
and present us with the laws and courses of 
winds, and tides, and rains, magnetic currents, 
and isothermal lines, and the distribution of 
vegetable, mineral, and animal life, respect- 
ively. The latest conclusions of science are 
given, and nn accumulation of knowledge, the 
practical value of which to all classes of men, 
from the farm labourer to the statesman, can- 
not be exaggerated, is packed into an ordinsry 
school atlas. Questions on each section are 
given, which will greatly help both teachers 
and pupils in the use of its contents. Prote,ssor 
Guyot has been careful to present each part of 
his subject in its true scientific relations. It is 
a text-book for every school, and an indispens- 
able companion for every echoolhoy. 

A A'tfiB Biegraphkid Dictionarii. Containing 
Concise Notes of Eminent Persons of all 
Ages and Countries, and more particularly 
of Distinguished NaUves of Great Britain 
and Ireland. By Thohpson Cooper, Esq., 
F.S.A., Author of ' Athenfe Cantabrigienses,' 
kc. George Bell and Sons. 
Dictionary making under any conditions is 
one of the most stupendous of literary under- 
takings ; every line is fundamental, and needs 
the most exact knowledge. Each compiler. 
however, has his task made more easy by his 
predecessors ; no work like the present would 
be possible save as the final result of many 
previous endeavours. Mr. Cooper has neces- 
sarily profited by the hibours of his predeces- 
sor.^ His portly volume of 1,200 closely 
printed pages, filled with concise biographical 
notices, surely approximates to all that we de- 
sire to know about anybody. Mr. Cooper 
tells us that the best authorities for both facts 
and dates, both printed and manu.^cript, have 
been consulted — among the latter the volumin- 
ous collections of the Rev. William Cole, of the 
Rev, Thomas Baker, B.D., 'Sacim tjectut.' and 
of Mr. Davy, in the British Museum and the 
University ^Library at Cambridge ; and the 
MS. treasures preserved in the library of the 
Vatican, and in various monasteries and col- 
leges in Rome. The MS. materials gathered 
by himself and his father, and most of the 
memoirs of the third (unpublished) volume of 
the 'Athenw Cantabrigienses.' have also tieen 
substantially reproduced. The work, there- 
fore, is much more than that of a mere com- 
piler. It is an impKirtant original contribution 
to the literature of its class, by a painstaking 
scholar. It professes to contain hundreds of 
names not to be found in any other biograph- 
ical collection, and to be the most comprehens- 
ive work of its kind in the English language. 
The book, simply as a book, baa been eight 
years in preparation. It is of course impossi- 
ble to judge such a work, save by the test of 



noogle 



Vontemporary Literatut 



1874. 

constant wse ; its value will consist largely in 
the degree of its minute accuracy. So fsr as 
turning over the pages and reading here and 
there enables us to form an opinion, it seems 
in every way admirable, and fully to justify 
the claims on its behalf put forth by itii editor. 
Wc have tried to think of names which might, 
perhaps, without much credit, have been 
omitted. In every caee but one we have found 
them. Nonconformists will find ihe names of 
Jay, Pye Smith, KafRca, Wardlaw, John Angell 
James, Vaughan, £c. Of course eminent per- 
sons die continually. The editor mentions 
Napoleon III. and I^rd Lytton as having, with 
several other eminent personii, died since the 
last pages were delivered to the printer. We 
should hardly, however, have expected Dickens 
to come under this law of exclusion. The 
book is printed in a small but beautifully clear 
type. 



The Empirtt and Citiei of Asia, By A. 
Gbi'ar Fohbbs, with a Map. (Virtue and Co.) 
Pew toils are more difficult than to compress 
the history of n continent in a small post-octavo 
volume, and few achievements are more diffi- 
cult to submit to critical tests. Omitted things 
are not easy to remember. What can be done 
in this way, liowever, has been shown by Mr. 
Freeman in ' Introductory Sketch of European 
History.' and for educational purposes, it is 
essentjal that junior classes should have history 
reduced to a conspectus. Concerning Mr, 
Forbes' volume, we can say only that he seemp 
to have consulted the best authorities — Malte 
Brun, Laurie, Ritter. Niebuhr, Botta, Layard, 
Kitto, Edkins, Le^e, Atkinson, and the jour- 
nals of the Asiatic Society. He omits from his 
list, however, perhaps tlie most valuable auth- 
ority of all, Vambcry's recently published 
' History of Bokhara,' probably because it has 
appeared since this little book was in type. 
The topography, languages, and nations of 
Asia are severally treated, their boundaries 
determined, their annals condensed, and appar- 
ently with wisdom and adequate knowledge. 
The work is a valuable addition to the school 
library. It is the production of a scholarly 
and reverent man. — Hktory of England. By 
Kditii Thompson; Historical Course for 
Schools. (Hacmlllanand Co.) The first of tiie 
volumes of Mr. Freeman's historical course. It 
is the History of England in a duodecimo 
of two hundred and fifty pages, necessarily, 
therefore, but an outline. Under such conili- 
tions history necessarily becomes a chronicle. 
But this is the excellency of this series, the 
scholarship and accuracy of which the editor's 
name sufficiently vouches for, Misii Thomp- 
son's book is the best of its class that has come 
under our notice. — Lettera to and/rom Rome in 
(A« Year* a.d. 61, G2, and 68. Selected and 
Translated by C. V, S, (Williams and Nor- 
gate.) These letters between Lucius Paster- 
mius at Rome to Septimus Voro at Jeniaalem, 
are intended to reproduce f 



126 

made by Christ and early Chrislianily upon 
the Romans of (he second generation. They 
are meagre, both in substance, Uioughl, and 
sentiment Thus a diary of Paulinus, secretary 
to Pilate, utterly misrepresents the nature of 
the Crucifixion given by the Evangelists — re- 

S resents Jesus as utterly losing heart, and 
ying in despair. 'Poor fellow 1 his was a 
hard fate, disappointed in his hope, betrayed 
by his intimate friends, and dying without one 
word of kindness or sympathy ' — and of course 
ignores every element of tho supernatural. 
The attempt so to reproduce contemporary im- 
pressions of Ihe origin of Christianity, the 
author has heen ill-advised to repeat, after 
Mr. Ware's letters from Judea. Ijehas neither 
tlio historical nor the imaginative qualities 
necessary for it— TAe Great JJalch AdmiraU. 
By Jacob db Liefde. (Henry S, King and Co.) 
Mr. de Liefde has written with great lucidity 
and spirit biographical sketches of seven of the 
great sea kings of the heroic age of Holland, 
Although Holland was our own great naval 
and commercial competitor, we cannot with- 
hold our admiration for the heroism with which 
the brave little Republic held her own against 
Spain, and so nobly contested with Blake and 
Monk the sovereignty of the seas. They are 
not boys' hearts only that will throb at the 
great sea fights of the skilful Van Tromp, the 
impetuous De Witt, and tho cautious and 
statesmanlike De Ruyter. Mr. de Liefde, in 
the inspirations of his exciting narrative, some- 
times forgets the boys for whom he is writing ; 
but he has done his work thoroughly well 
Tho book will have a favourite place in the 
boy's library. — TKe Higher MinUtriea of 
Heaven ; Memoriet of Henry ifatitie Peartalt, 
B.A. RSe., Late Student of Neie GoUege, Lon- 
don. By the Author of 'Public Worship.' 
(Hoddcr and Stoughton.) Mr. Henry Poarsall 
was a young man of unusual acquirements and 
promise. Ho died just when ready to take bis 
M.A, degree at the London University, and 
when near the completeness of his studies for 
the Christian ministry. His father's memoir 
of him, full of tenderness and earnestness, re- 
veals a character of great rdigioua sincerity 
and devoutness. Both intellectually and spir- 
itually he bid fair to take a high position in 
the Church of ChrLst, but God saw otiierwiae. . 
We could wish the little memoir in the hands 
of every student for the ministry. It is full 
of quickening influences of tho best kind. — 
Adamantia : the TVkW «6ou( the South Af- 
rican IHatnond Fieldn; or, a Vindication of the 
right of the Ornnge Free State to thai Terri- 
tory, and an Analytit of Brilith Diplomacy 
and Aggreation. which hat retailed in the ille- 
gal Kcizure by the OoTrei-nor of the Cape of Good 
Hope. By Captain Auodstcs F. LrNDLEV, 
atuhor of ' Tai Ping Tien Krooh,' the ' History 
of the Taiping Revolution,' &c. (W, H. and L. 
Collingridgc) This volume is an impeachment 
of the English Government, on the ground of 
their countenancing the illegal seizure of terri- 
tory belonging to the Orange Free State by the 
Governor of the Cape of Good Hope. Captain 
Lindley writes with great Spirit and earnest- 
ness and from the documentary and otlier evi- 



.dbyGoogle 



136 

dence he adduces seema to m&kc good his case. 
I{o expresses himself anxious for the honour 
of Eaglund, and regrets that whilst con oessioDs 
are tnnde to great and powerful states, the 
rights of the weak and defenceless should be 
invaded and trampled upon. He demands re- 
dress on behalf of the Orange Free Slate, and 
the purpose of his book is to inform Ihe British 
Parliament and the British public how their 
OOTemment has robbed that State— one of the 
two Soulh African Republics — of its diamond 
fields. The case merits the consideration of 
the people of England. — Aa Aulumn Tour in 
the United Stnta and Canada,. By Julius 
Georoe Med let. Lieutenant- Colon el Rojal 
Engineers. (Henry S. King and Co.) Colonel 
Medley records the impressions of a passing 
traveller with fairness, intelligence, and sym- 
pathy, lie has got up the necessary useful 
information, statistical and social, even to the 
three and a half millions of square miles com- 
prehended in United States territory, and 
blends it with his own observations andimpres- 
sions in a natural and sensible way. He vindi- 
cates the record of a mere tourist's impressions 
as giving a more ^ust and vivid picture of pecu. 
liarilies, and thinks that his Anglo-Indian 
espcricnce enables peculiar dispassionateness 
of judgment Like ' all travellers, he is im- 
pressed with the strong, earnest, resolute char- 
acter of the people, and notes what is less often 
observed, but is no less true, their taciturnity 
and trUieiaf^ which ho attributes to manliness 
and absorbing occupation. There is no idle 
class in the States. While good society of 
well-to-do Americans is much the same as in 
our own country, it is inferior lo the best 
English society. To the latter there is nothing 
in America to correspond, partly through infe- 
riority in the highest kind of education, and the 
race of country gentlemen is unknown. In this 
husiness-lika way — even Niagara is described 
after the manner of an inventory — two scraps 
of poetry excepted, Colonel Medley enumer- 
ates American characteristics, and passes judg- 
ments upon them always fairly and kindly, as 
even Americans who refuse to accept his ver- 
dicts will admit. As a military engineer, he pro- 
nounces judgments upon the principal bridges 
and other cnnneering achievements of the 
States, generally laudatory. The book may be 
commended as a useful handbook of suggestions 
concerning things to he noted, and judgments 
to bo formed of them. — A 7'uvr «it/i Cook 
throvgh Spnin; being a Sfi-U* »/ Def^riptire 
Letter* of Ancient Citienand Seenery-of Spnin, 
^, at Seen and Enjoyed inaSiimmfrlloUd-iy. 
By J, B. Stose, F.G.8, (Sampson Low and 
Co ) These letters were sent by the author to 
the Birmingham Daily Gazette. They are ob- 
servant and sensible. They describe in detail 
the incidents of the tour, and the impressions 
made by the scenery, people, customs, Ac. 
Bull-fights, religious processions, ' foundlings.' 
gipsici^ &c., are described, in addition (o cath- 
edrals, cities, and palaces. The book is simply 
what it professes to be — a record of passing 
impressions, not a rhume of history and social 
economy, and ecclesiastical policy, read up for 
.!._ :__ ijj ^ quiet, straightforward, 



Contemporary/ Ziterature. 



business way, the author tells us what he saw, 
and interests us in so doing. 



POLITICS, SCtBSCE, AND ART. 

Coniparatite Polities. Six Lectures read be- 
fore the Roral Institution in JanuBi? and 
February, 1878. With the Unity of His- 
tory: Tho Rede Lecture read before Ihe 
University of Cambridge, M»y 29. 1873. By 
EnwiRD A. Freeman, M.A., Hon. D.C.L., 
&c Hacmillan and Co. 
In the masterly lectures that compose this 
volumeMr. Freeman appears as a fellow- worker 
with Mr, Max Muller, Mr. Tylor. and Sir Henry 
Maine. | But if he ploughs with (heir heifer, and 
applies principles of reiiearch which in their 
hands have yielded lai^ results, he does so in 
his own domain. His special line of inquiry is 
political ; politics in the widest sense of the 
term — the sense in which it was used by Aris- 
totle — furnishing the materials with which he 
deals. The qualifying adjective^ ' Comparative 
Politics,' Bugge'sts the nature of the task Mr. 
Freeman grapples with. He applies to another 
department of human knowledge the method 
which has already proved its value by the re- 
sults yielded in the kindred spheres of philo- 
logy and mythology. Whether or not the dis- 
covery of the comparative method will proveof 
such exceeding importance as Mr. Freeman be- 
lieves, remains to be seen. The intellectual 
revolution it is fitted to bring about appears to 
him of such mighty moment to the human race 
that its discovery is likely to rank hereafter as 
equally great and memorable as the revival of 
Greek and Latjn learning in the fifteenth cen- 
tury. It has already rendered notable serrica 
in the light it has thrown on the study of lan- 
guage. But it is fitted to prove equally ser- 
viceable in all departments of historical inquiry, 
and, indeed, in the whole range of human 
thought It has opened up a new world by 
supplying a principle througn which what have 
hitherto seemed isolated and disconnected phe- 
nomena may be connected together as parts of 
a mighty whole. In the Rede Lecture on the 
' Unity of History,' the last in this volume, Mr. 
Freeman shows, with rare eloquence and power, 
what the comparative method has achieved in 
thus revealing to us the or^nic connection of 
the past with (ho present. The sustained elo- 
quence of both the thought and language of 
this lecture marks it as a masterpiece ;- and no 
one can read it with thoughtfulness and care 
without having his intellectual horizon widen- 
ed, and being put in possession of views of vast 
sweep and comprehension. The ideas express- 
ed in this lecture arc developed in a more 
strictly scientific fashion in the first of tho 
scries nf sii lectures on * Comparative Politics.' 
It cannot be questioned that no have in them a 
substantive addition to our knowlcilge of poli- 
tics and history. In lectures, of course, an au- 
thor roust deal with his subject tJUggestiTcly 



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Contemporary Literature. 



rather than exhaustJTolj. His ohjcct must be 
to indicate the range and extent of the Aeld to 
be compassed, rather than to attempt to exhi- 
bit it in all its fulness. ' All that he can hope 
to do,' Mr. Freeman pays, ' is to choose a few 
of the many aspects of big subject, and to take 
care that his treatment of them, though neces- 
sarily imperfect, shall be accurate as far as it 
goes. Thus much I trunt tliat I have done,' 
he adds ; and the intelligent reader will grate- 
fully admit the claim. The great truth is 
brought into clear light that all history is one, 
and that all its parts bear upon each other. 
The special department in which he finds illus- 
trations is in the primitive institutions of the 
Aryan nations ; and mainly in Uiosc of ' the 
three most illustrious branches of the common 
stock — the Greek, the Roman, and the Tenton. 
He traces the distinctive political functions of 
each of these races in the past, and the share 
each of them has had in ' the one great heritage 
of political institutions, which they have band- 
ed down and developed, each in its own sepa- 
rate way.' These three have in turn held the 
foremost place among civilized men, and each, 
in developing its own special institutions, is 
seen to be handing on 'a heritage which has 
descended from unrecorded times, as the still 
abiding work of the fathers and elder brethren 
of our common blood.' We have not space to 
eihibit how effectively Mr. Freeman's ample 
scholarship enables him to illustrate this prin- 
ciple. But it is impoasiblo not to welcome the 
evidence which the comparative method is thus 
laying before us of the essential unity of the 
bumau race, of the fact that it is an orgsnittm 
whose roots are planted in the far pa>t anti- 
quity, and that its most distinctively human, 
and its noblest fruits are part of an original 
possession of mankind. &Iore and more as 
Kuch inquiries proceed does the truth open be- 
fore us that man was made in the ' imago of 
God,' that his intellectual and spiritual linea- 
ments arc not a development from animalism, 
but were his primal constitution. Mr. Freeman 
has nobly broken ground in the p^at field of 
comparative politics, which promises to go far 
to cqnfirm these great truths. May he go on, 
and carry still further his deeply valuable ro- 
Be&rches. 

The Borderland if Seienee. A Series of Fami- 
liar Dissertations on Stars, Planets, Meteors, 
Sun 'and Moon. Earthquakes, Flying 
Machines, Coal, Gambling, Coincide ncep, 
Ohost.4, £c. By Ricuabd A. Pboctok, B.A. 
Smith, Elder, & Co. 

This volume is a reprint of articles that have 
appeared in the Cvrithill Magatine. As the 
title of the work indicates, they ranee over a 
considerable variety of subjects. There is a 
mixture of fact and Action, but the Action is in 
the mode of treatment, the scientific inferences 
and results belong to the region of fact Mr. 
Proctor writes with care, and though he has 
here made no contributions to Science which 
are likely to be of permanent value, he has pro- 
duced a readable volume, in which the amount 
of infonnation r^rding subjects on ' the bor- 



Siiilionnl Ediieitt'io. 
Ceritury liefors 
WiLKiNS, M.A. Strahan a 
Professor Wilkins has obtained the prize 
founded in the University of Cambridge by the 
friends of the late Julius Hare for the best Eng- 
lish dissertation on a theme annually proposed 
by the Vice-Chancel lor. The subject of ' Na- 
tional Education in Greece in the Fourth Cen- 
tury Before Christ' is not so attractive as the 
theme of either of the previous essays of this 
accomplished scholar, which have come to us 
with the lofty approval of distingtiished adju- 
dicators. • The Light of the World,' and ' 'the 
Relations of Phoenicia and Israel,' appealed at 
once for partial sympathy to a larger group of 
readers than can bo expected to appreciate the 
purely classical region into which ibey are now 
invited. 'I hough education is one of the great 
questions of the day, and we look far and wide 
for models and stimulus, and for a way out of 
our difficulties religious and political, wo are 
not sure that cither titatesmon or school boards 
will obtain much light from the present discus- 
It is far from being devoid of interest, Mr. 
'Wilkins takes us intollicnursery and the play- 
ground, into the lower and higher forms of the 
national schools of Sparta and Alhens during 
the fourth century b.c. He contrasts the mo- 
tives and 'lualities of Spartan and Athenian 
education for boys and girls, defends every 
statement by careful quotation, holds the Im- 
InncB on scores of minute details between the 
rival interpretations of modern scholars, and 
then proceeds to di.scuss with admirable mas- 
tery of material the theory of education advo- 
cated by Plato in the ' Republic ' and the ' Laws,' 
and that by Aristotle in various portions of tho 
'Pohtjcs.' 

While showing the enormous importance at- 
tributed by Spartans to music and gymnastics, 
ho does not think, with Mr. Grote, that 'the 
elements of letters ' were utterly neglected by 
them. He calls attention to tho peculiar moral 
(raining to which they were submitted, and lo 
the extraordinary re.fults of what to us, were 
the hateful relations between the seves the ob- 
literation of the parental bond, and the inver- 
sion of nature in the love and worship of ideal 
physical beauty. He sums up the approval 
and the criticisms which both .Aristotle and 
Plato passed upon Spartan education. 

Tho Athenians branded as contemptible the 
endeavour to govern the education of children 
with a view to their uKiifiate profe.'-sion, Read- 
ing, writing, calculation, the poetry of their na- 
tion, instrumental music, formed the main stay 
and chief element of the national education. 
As ' the whole life of man, according lo Plato, 
was in need of rhythm, grace, and harmony,' 
the souls of boys were continually, systema- 
tically submitted to thefc influences. Mr. 
Grole's celebrated chapter on the Sophists, and 
his discovery of their true character, is virtually 
endorsed by Professor Wilkins in his exposition 
of the higher education. We have not space to 



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Conlemporaty Literature. 



Jaa 



discuss the numorous and tempting themes 
Ku^csted by this elaborate but fascinating es- 
say. It is a brilliant contribution to tbe his- 
tory of education. 

The Coal Regiont of America: their To/ing- 
raphy. Geology, and Danelopment Wiih 
& Coloured Geological Map of Pennsylvaniai, 
a Raih-oad Map of all the Coal Regions, and 
numerous other Maps and Ilhistrations. By 
\ Jahgs Macfarlahe, A.m. New York: D. 
Appleton and Co, 

The Ecope of Mr. Maefarlane'R work is sufli- 
dontly indicated by its title page. The author 
has carefully colleeted all thai has been made 
known concerning the vast coal fields of tbe 
United States. The separate States, as well 
as the supreme Government, have given every 
possible encouragement to scientific investiga- 
tion of the subject. Geological surveys have 
been made, and their results published. These 
Hr. Macfarlane has made the basis of his vob 
ume. He has condensed and most admirably 
arranged for reference a vast mass of informa- 
tion into a bulky but yet compact and tucid 
hand-book. It cannot be supposed that all is 
known that will he known. The mineral and 
carboniferous treasures of the States are devel- 
oped and known only in part, as every other 
class of their illiruitable resources are known, 
but all that has been discovered is here tabu- 
lated. , Mr. Macfarlane is a practical coal inspec- 
tor, and for many years he has assiduously 
gathered from all reliable sources the informa- 
tion which he gives in his book. Its character 
is commercial rather than scientific. One can- 
not but admire the great future which the 
coat formations of North America alone insure 
it. They extend over 193,(H)0 square miles, 
while thoso of Great Britain are only 1],OUO, 
and those of Nova Scotia ] 8,000 ; and are not 
only very varied — bituminous and anthracite, 
cretaceous and triassic being alike abundant, 
but they are widely distributed, and generally 
the coal is near the surface. As yet three 
times as much coal is produced in Great Bri- 
tain as tn tbe States. Practical suegestions 
and comparative statisticsare given. Mr. Mac- 
farlane writes sensibly, lucidly, and modestly, 
and contents himself with the statement and 
exposition of facts. His work is many ' Blue 
Books ' in one. 

J'roUipliitm ; or, Hatler and Life. With aomt 
RemarH on the ' Confeuion ' of Strauta. 
By Lionel S. Bbale, M.B., F.R.S. 
The third edition of this remarkable work 
reiterates and conflnqs the fundamental posi- 
tion with which Dr. Beale's name will bo hence- 
forth associated. The earlier editions under 
sightly differing titles, as well as the essay 
entitled ' The Mystery of Lite,' in reply to Dr. 
Gull's strictures, and the volume entitled, 'Life 
Theories and Religious Thought,' have all set 
forth the result of elaborate, prolonged, and 
minute investigation of physiological structures 
and the mode of their origination. Dr. Besle 
is perhaps one of the most eminent microsco* 
pists of his age. and has an undoubted right to 
enforce attention to the demonstrable proof he 



gives of the essential and fundamental diffe- 
rence between {-/> matter that is living, and (h) 
matter that is formed or oncanizcd by living 
processes hut is no longer living, and (c) matier 
again that is non-livinfr. This right he has 
claimed, frequently exhibiting in most carefully 
drawn engravings the marvellous contrast be- 
tween the living matter, which he calls bio- 
plasm, and the/omwrf material of tissue, both 
muscular and ncrvou.s, of papillte, of cilia, of 
cartilage, and bone, and the mode in wliicli the 
bioplasts effectuate these results ; and he has 
called attention to the absolute freedom from 
itructural peculiarities in this same bioplasm ; 
nay, its apparent sameness in all living beings, 
its destitution of colour, of definite form, or, in 
fact, of any peculiarity whatever that can be 
expressed in terms of physical force or mole- 
cular property. He has shown in various 
works the enormous part which nevertheless 
this bioplasm plays in the constitution of every 
living being, from a mollusc to an elephant, 
and how this living matter differs from all non- 
living matter. He utterly repudiates the use 
of the votA prolofilntm in the sense in which 
it has been used by Professor Husley and 
others, covering as it does the whole of the 
material, the organized pubulam of living be- 
ings as well as the living tissue of which they 
are composed, such as the eye of a. beautiful 
girl, the roast mutton on which she may feed, 
and the nettle which may sting her hand. Dr. 
lieale draws what we think is a most Important 
distinction between the living and the dead, be- 
tween the ultimate but infinilely active sub- 
stance which has the faculty of growth and 
expansion and subdivision into particles exact- 
ly like itself, which is in continual activity, 
more or less demonstrable, and the renalt* of 
this activity in either living tissue or dead 
bones. 'I'o call all the material of organism, 
whether living or dead, ' protoplasm' sheds no 
light whatever on the questioTi, What is lifcf 
or on the relation of the life force to the physi- 
cal forces. It may mislead because it con- 
founds the physico-chemical results of living 
and of dying, m all the organisms of the unl- 
it is, however, in this enlarged edition of 
the work before us — still called, iiowever, ' Pro- 
toplasm' — (bat Dr. Beale does what we think 
is brilliant gervlce in maintaining, and demon- 
strating that life force is not correlated with 
the physical forces. He appears to us to 
prove that neither observation nor experiment 
by any manipulation of any known pliyslcal 
forces or treatment of non-living matter can 
originate or reveal one particle of hio/'lum, 
can produce in the laboratory or point out 
in nature as tlie result of phy.'iico -chemical 
agencies the activity and peculiarities which 
are the essential differentia of living matter or 
living beings. The whole of the ai^ument of 
the volume as against Messrs. Huxley, Tyn- 
dall, H. Spencer, and the defenders of the 
physical theory of life, revolves on this propo- 
sltloa The volume is divided into three parts, 
entitled. Demonstrative, Dissentient, and Spe- 
culative. The burden of the 'demonstrative' 
portion we have attempted to indicate. Qrant- 



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18?i. 



Contemporary Idta'ature. 



iog the txxahKj al the delineatioriB, the tstb- 
latioDS of th3 microBcope to be safe and relia- 
ble, then the entliusiism, the vehemenco, and 
the controversial mdignatian of the general 
dissentience from many modem physical phi- 
losophers and evolutionists are abundantly jus- 
tified. Wo think, seeing the extraordinary 
Blir produced by Dr. Baalian's ai^iments and 
e^eriments, that it would have been some- 
what to the purpose if Dr. Bealo had informed 
his readers of the method by which the conclu- 
gions of "Dr. Bastian have been refuted. If 
those experiments had succeeded, the whole 
of Dr. Beale's argument based on his Dbserra- 
tions of the behaviour of bioplasm would fall to 
the ground. Our author in, however, content 
to dismiss Bastian in a contemptuous note, and 
to refer to Virchow and hosts of other physi- 
cists as sufficient vouchers for the absurdity of 
spontaneous generation. He does, however, 
give quotation enough to show that nothing 
can be more reckless and dogmatic than the 
method in which a clique of scientific materia- 
lists are forcing their theories upon credulous 
readers by dint of audacious assertion and 
scientific prophecy of what the physicists who 
are yet to be will prove. It is refreshing in 
the last degree to see a man of European repu- 
tation in a certain department of careful scien- 
tific investigation grapple with this theory of 
the correlation of physical forces with life- 
force, and then mim wit, satire, humour, and 
eloquence fairly worry iL Ho calls for a 
ptu<;e before we accept a theory of life, which 
he doea not hesitate to stigmatize as well as 
refute. He boldly cries out for the LIVING 
GOD as the only adequate explanation of the 
phenomena. He is not 'intimidated' by the 
pTopkety that in the future there may be as 
well accredited a ' mechanical equivalent of 
consciousness as there is now of heal,' and 
with amazing vivacity attacks the psychology 
of both Spencer and Bain. On physiolc^cal 
grounds he disputes their main positions, and 
deals some thrusts, which he imagines will be 
treated with only aiient conlempt in these 
days, when, according to him, it is the fashion 
to believe on authority in any unsupported 
generalization that comes with long names 
from certain approved sources of scientific dog- 
matism. But he maintains that these doctrines 
and all tho magnificent theories founded on 
them, the prophecies and strongest assevera- 
tions of the school will be ultimately sifted, 
discarded, and forgotten. 

Our author, in the speculative portion of 
the work, propounds the only rational hypo- 
thesis to account for the phenomena of life. 
He appears to us to have done more to bring 
one face to face with the eternal and infinite 
life of the universe than any modem writer. 
This LIFE is not the mere hypotheais of the 
primum mobile, the God still required by one 
school of crolotiODists to bridge over the ori- 
(tinal chasm between the non-lirinp and the 
living, and set the mighty machinein motion; 
nor is it the mere activity of universal force, 
with its cndtcBB actions and reactions, it is 
the purpose of a supreme intelligence, the 
specific and tho individual working of His 

VOL. LIX. R— 9 



will. The chapters on the nature of life, the 
nature of mind, and the new prescntntion 
of the design argument, are fur too elabo- 
rate to toucli, in this short notice of a booh 
of immense importance. The lionudless and 
complicate and infinitely varied purposes sub- 
served, forms elaborated, organs fashioned, 
spceiee determined, by tho apparently homo- 
geneous, formless speck of living subBtance,u 
the deepest mystery of the universe. 

Nothing short of infioitc intelligence is 
needed for the marshalling and ordination of 
these powers, while the sncculations of pan- 
genetU and the 'survival of the fittest,^ and 
the so-calied law of 'evolution' are utterly 
powerless to account for the facta. 

The postscript on Strauss's ' Confession ' k 
a spirited and indignant demonstration of the 
reckless baste with which this notorious cri- 
tic has accepted as physical fact what is the 
most crude and ill-digested speculation.. He 
has jumped into the abyss, and is loudly hal- 
looing to all intelligent and senaible men to 
follow his example. We think Dr. Bcale 
hardly takes suflicient notice of the pantlieis- 
tic hypotheais. Those who have embraced it 
will be unable to understand the eaffcmess 
with whichhe resolves to separate the pnysical 
and the life-forces, recognising both as Divine, 
It is trio that pantheism must be approached 
at another point ond by another process. The 
pantheist must conceive that he approaches 
his own highest ideal when he loses all con- 
sciousness and is deprived at once of indivi- 
duality, of intellectual purpose, and moral 
feeling. Pantheism may prove a refuge for 
religious men who are crushed by the autho- 
ritative dogmatism of modem scepticism, and 
they may clothe the kosmos, the sum total of 
all forces good and evil, with a vague senti- 
ment of awe and reverence, and even love ; 
but they must be content to lose the highest 
ideal, the great stimulus of righteousness, the 
only blending power for moral natures. 

Hind and Body : the TIteoriet of tlicir Rela- 
tion. By Alksandeb Baia, LL.D.. Henry 
S. King and Co. 

The Contervntion of Energy. Being an Ele- 
mentary Treatise on Energy and its Laws. 
By Balfodk Stewart, LL.D. Henry S. 
King and Co. 

The first of these books is likely to be one 
of the most acceptable volumes of the ' Inter- 
national Scientific Series.' Tho subject is one 
of unfailing, and just now, perhaps of special 
interest, and tho author is in high repute as a 
writer on mind. The shortness of the trea- 
tise and its STOwedly popular character, for- 
bid anything like a complete treatment of its 
wide, deep, and much-debated subject; but the 
reader is put in possession of the fuller knowl- 
edge of the nervous or^nism which has lately 
been obtiuned, and its oearing on the facts of 
mind is discussed. The difiiculty of the sub- 
ject is much lessened by a eopiona use of hap- 
pily-chosen illustrations, which make this nn 
admirable text-bookforteachcra, as well as in- 
teresting and suggestive (o general readers. 



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Jan. 



A anperflcial treatmeat of important prob- 
lems is, to some e:(tent, unavoidable in s work 
of this kind, but here it seema due in part to 

B characteristic of the Bchoot of philosophy to 
■wliieh Dr. Bain belongs, viz., the tendency to 
rest satiaScd with inaufBcient explanation a of 
phenomena. Dr. Bain, and the twoHr. Hills, 
among others, have ahown wonderful inge- 
nuity in accounting inadequately for our 
moral and intellectual qualities by the direc- 
tion given to the associations as against the 



to aaaociatious formed by experience. 

The new facts accumulated, and the new 
linea of Inquiry opened up by Mr. Darwin and 
%tr. Herbert Spencer appear likely to barmo- 
nize these divergent doctrines by an interme- 
diate view, which beara the aspect of truth. 
By showing the enormous influence which in- 
hiritanfe eucrta on mental as weli bh on bodily 
character, they virtually teach that mental 
tendencies are innate in the individual, but 
not in the race. This implies the insufficien- 
cy and shallowness of the experience philoso- 
phy haa held before. 

In the volume before us Dr. Bain makes 
some use of these new views, but does not 
define hia jKisition in regard to them. But in 
'ft Postscript' lately added to 'Tiic Senses 
and the Intellect,' he saya, ' In the present 
volume I have not made use of the principle 
of evolution to explain either the complex 
feelings or the complex intellectual powers. 
I believe, however, that there ia much to be 
■aid in behalf of tlu 
cations. In the thii 
tiona and the Will," now in preparation, I in- 
tend to discuss it at full length.' 

Is not the aame disposition to rest in insuf- 
ficient explanations shown by the representa- 
tions of the relation between mind and body 
Its now besinning to be inadequately under- 
stood ? Tue following language, which finds 
more than one parallel in this book, would 
come naturally enough from some superficial 
thinkers of a past age, but it is surprising 
from an advanced philosopher of the 
tee nth century. 

'Let us generalize the connections of 
thought or intellect with nervous and other 
processes, find out what physical basis speci- 
fically belongs to memory, to reason, to ima- 
gination, ana what are the most general state- 
menta of the rclationaliip, we shall then fully, 
aufiicicntly, finally explain the alliance of 
mind and body in the sphere of intellect. 
There is no other explanation needful, no 
other competent, no other that would be ex- 
planation. Instead of our being unfortunate, 
as ia aomctimea aaid, in not being able to 
know the essence of citlier mind or matter, in 
not rendering an account of their union, our 
misfortune would be to have to known any- 
thing different from what we do or may 
know.'— pp. 138, ». 

The second of these two volumes sustains 
the high reputation which other treatises of 
the ' International Scientific Series ' have ob- 
tained. Dr. Stewart speaks with authority on 



a subject he haa mode his own, and in present- 
ing it here in outline to general readers, he 
shows that power of clear, accurate, and at- 
tractive exposition for which so many English 
teachers of science are distinguished. The 
spread of scientific information among readers 
who arc not students, will be greatly promot- 
ed by the writers and publishers of volumes 
like this. Yet Dr. Stewart does not seem al- 
ways to have hit the difficult mean of not too 
little nor too much in this account of energy. 
Sometimes he has hardly avoided the danger 
besetting popular expositions of science, of 
giving descnptiona too full for ade]>t3, but 
almoat uaelesa to others because not full 
I. The meaning of a paragraph occa- 
sionally depends on that of a sentence otv- 
scure to anyone not versed in current scienti- 
fic phraseology. 

It may be allowable to suggest to scientific 
writers a caution of another kind. In aeek- 
givc their explanations in the moat 
- language they often use expressions 
ince with the very views they are in- 
culcating. No doubt it is difficult, and 
sometimea impossible to avoid this ; but it ia 
a great hindrance, andaaourceof confusion to 
a reader who is endeavouring to seize a novel 
scientific theory, when the language in which 
it is conveyed supposes an account of the 
facts which is being shown to be untenable. 
Mr. Qrove's book on the ' Correlation of the 
Phyaical Forces' contains many exemplea of 
tbia, and the present volume furnishes a few. 
For example, since the modem doctrine of 
energy is at variance with the idea that the 
forces of nature, like electricity, are material 
emanations, it is embarrassing to read, ' when 
two bodies charged with opposite electricities 
are brought near each other, the twoelectrici- 
tiea rush together, forming acurrent, and the 
ultimate result is a spark ' (Pp. G8, 9). So, it 
is said that, in a voltaic current we have 'a 
continuous coming together' of opposite elec- 
tricities. And further on, life is called 'a mys- 
terious th ing,' and compared to the commander 
of an army. 'Life,' it issoid, 'is alwaysasso- 
ciatcd with machinery of a certain kind ' (p. 
163). But surely physical life, which alone 
ia in question here, i> machinery of a certain 
kind. 

Ttic deeper questions as to the nature of 
force are not raised in this treatise, except 
that Dr. Stewart's phraseology suggests in- 
quiries on which no information is, or per- 
hapa could be given. 'All energy,' ho says, 
' conaists of two kinds — that of potition and 
that of actual motion. . . . Now, energy of 
position impliea a body in a position of ad- 
vantage with respect to some force ' (p. 48). Is 
any essential distinction between energy and 
force intended here ? What is enei^y, which 
now amii»t$ of actual motion, but which, 
when the motion ceases, does not itself ceEse, 
but then consists of aometbing else? Such 
problems confirm what Dr. Stewart says, more 
or less explicitly, more than ouce, 'the uni- 
verse has more than one point of view, and 
there are possibly regions which wilt not yield 
their treasures to the moat determined pfaysi- 



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131 



cists nrnied only with kilogram mea and mc- 
trca ami stamlard clocks ' (p. 13(1). 

Heference should be made to the many ad- 
mirable illuatrutionanhich this book contains, 
as when the conversion of visible motion into 
heat, or molecular motion, by a concussion, is 
compared to the shaking together of railtray 
passcnsers when a collision occurs, or the sun 
likened to a man whose expenditure exceeds 
his income, unless the solarenergies arc being 
recruited as fust as tboy are being dissipated. 

The Theory of Etolution of LUiag Thing*, 
and the AppUeation of the PrmeipUt of 
EBolatian to BdigUrn, Contidered as Illus- 
trative of the ' Wisdom and Benefikenee of 
the Almighty.' By the Rev, Oboroe 
Hbkblow, M.A., &Q. Macmillan and C(f. 
Tliis is one of the Actonian Prizes for 1873. 
It is chnracterized by no great power, and 
produces the imprcsition of a man who has 
gathered more scientitic knowledge than he 
has adequate ability to use. Mr. Henslow 
takes hold of his theme feebly and is not 
always consistent nith himself. Thus while 
he distinguishes very justly between the facta 
of evolution which arc scicntiflcally demon- 
strable and the theories of evolution which 
Lamarck, Mr. Darwin, and others have main- 
tained, and which are speculative hypotheses, 
be entitles his own book a ' Theory,' which it 
scarcely is. It is simply the assertion of evo- 
lution as a law of nature withm the limits of 
individual Bpeciea, which, so far as we know, 
no well-informed person naeations. Every 
horticulturist, farmer, and cattle breeder 
knows that evolution is thus n law of nature. 
The real queslion is whether nil varieties of 
being in creation are developed by natural 
law from one common protoplasm; which, 
with the theologians, Mr. Henslow denies. 
The number of primitive types is merely a 
question of degree. Mr. Ilenalow, again, lias 
severe things to say aboot theologians fornot 
readily enough accepting the discoveries of 
science; and then at once exoneratea thcni 
from the comparative reproach by adducing 
instances of even greater conservatism on the 

fart of men of acicnee themselves : — the way, 
)r example, in which Harvey's discovery of 
the circulation of the blood was received by 
the scientific men of his day, and ho might 
have added the way in which Sir J. Simpson's 
discovery of the aniestheticuscof chloroform 
was received by hia medical brethren, as nar- 
rated in his memoir just published. Such 
slowness of belief is not peculiar to theolo- 
gians, it is part of the natural conservatism of 
human thought— intensified in the case of 
men of science bj professional jealousy, in the 
case of theologians by ignorant fears for sa- 
cred things. Mr. Darwin's theories are aa 
much resisted by many of his scientific bre- 
thren—Professor Owen, Mr. Wallace, Mr. 
Iluiley, and others, aa they are by theolo- 
gians. Mr. Henslow thinks there are already 
symptoms of decay in their acceptance, to say 
nothing of the changes in Mr. Darwin's own 
views. Snrely tbeologiana may be forgiven 
for refusing to surrender the Bible to the un- 



verified proposition of ever fluctuating scien- 
tific hypothesis. 

Mr. Ilenslow says nothing about the origin of 
life, nor about the theory of the development 
of man from the lower animals. He believes 
in the Divine Creation, and in the distinctive 
creation of man. Mr. Henslow admits that 
'the theory of evolution never countenances 
tlie idea of any two species of the tame relit- 
[iee generation in descent passing the one into 
the other.' Indeed his views would Lie gene- 
rally accepted by all intelligent theologians. 
He seems largely to be fighting wit liahadowa. 
The New illustrated Natural History. By 
the Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A., F.L.S. With 
Designs by Wolf, Zwecker, Weir, Coleman, 
Harvey, and others. Engraved by the 
Brothers Dalzibi^ George Routlcdgc and 

In popular works on natural history the il- 
lustrations arc almost aa important ab the 
text. The impressions received by the eye 
are more vivid and accurate than those 
received from descriptions. It ia therefore in 
no sense to undervalue Mr. Wood's great 
powers as a popular expositor of natural 
Ncicnce to say that the deserved popularity of 
his liook is largely owing to the enterprise of 
the publishers in securing for them the illus- 
trations of artists like Wolf and Weir, whose 
scientific exactness is equal to their artistic 
beauty. Mr. Wood's books are drawing-room 
albums and physiolo^cal studies, as well as 
popular manuals. With less, perhaps, of vi- 
vaciousncss, but much more of accuracy, Mr. 
Wood is a kind of English Louis Figuicr. 
With ample knowledge as a naturalist, and a 
wide acquaintance with 7x>ological literature, 
Mr. Wood describes his species and tells hia 
atory in a straightforward and lively manner, 
which, to those wishing for knowledge, is 
full of interest. The present volume is a 
condensation of the three volumes bf Ms ' 
large 'Illustrated Natural History,' revised bo 
aa to bring it up to the latest state of zoolo- 
gical knowledge, with some additional mat- 
ter. The illustrations, which have been 
' carefully selected so as to represent the most 
important and interesting groups of all the 
different orders,' are very profuse ; there is 
scarcely a page without one, sometimes there 
are two on a page. It is a glorious book for 
intelligent boys, and for all it ia perhaps the 
most valuable handbook of natural hbtory in 
tile language. 

TheLifeandH<Ait»ofWadAmmait. Illustra- 
ted by Designs by Joseph Woi^. Engrav- 
ed by J. W. and Edward Whthper. With 
Descriptive Letterpress by DAHtEL Qiravd 
Elliot, F.L.S., F.Z.8. Hacmillan and Co. 
Mr. Edward Whymper pves us in the pre- 
face to this very artistic book a short account 
of Mr. Joseph Wolf, whoae designs he and 
hia father have engraved. A young Prussian, 
with a passion for observing and drawing 
wild animals, he came to England in 1848. 
since when he has > been engaged in making 
drawings for the Zoological Society and for 
"book illustrations, especially those of distin- 



.dbyGoogle 



Contemporary Ziteralure. 



1 33 

gnUhcd travellers. Scicotifio naturaliats in 
this country, aa we)l as on the Continent and 
in America, conaider that his power of deli- 
neating specific characters is simply unrival- 
led.' Ilia paintings are seldom exhibited, as 
thej pass directly tram his studio into the 
hands of the best judges and largest coIleC' 
tors in the kingdom. The present scries of 
sketches has been in the engraver's hands for 
seven years, and it is announced oa the 'last 
serien of illustrations which wilt be drawn by 
Mr. Wolf, either upon wood or upon stone.' 
Hr. Elliot, the author of the accompanying 
descriptive loltcrpresa,' Mr. Whymper tells 
as, 'is a citizen oi the United States, and is 
well known among naturalists for his superb 
monographs,' and in everything save perhaps 
his grammatical skill he seems to deserve this 
praise. The work abundantly justifies this 
nigh coin mend ati on, and would justify a 
comuiendation ei^ually high of the way in 
which the engravings have been executed. It 
is in every respect much more than a picture 
book for Christmas — it is a scientific and ar- 
tistic contribution to popular natural history. 
The combination ia not common. Landseer 
and AnJscll have not many peers. Mr. Wolf 
may fairly claim a place with them, as having 
both scientific knowledge and artistic passion. 
His drawings are as accurate as tiiey are 

Sicturcsquo. The twenty pictures are inci- 
ents OS well as life studies ; each tells its tale 
of battle or peril. There is no mistakingthe 
grim earnestness of the gorilla, who, suspend- 
ed by his enormous arms, looks ' who goes 
there ; ' nor the alarmed cxpreastou of his 
mate with her young one, who is hastening to 
A place of safety; nor the 'hairbreadth 
escape ' of ]HDor bunny seized by an owl near 
the mouth of the warren, and escaping only 
by a fallen tree, which compels the owl to re- 
lax its grasp. There is a wonderful expres- 
sion in the countenances of the animals, 
while the accessories arc most carefully stu- 
died and admirably grouped. 

The engravers have rendered Mr. Wolf's 
designs in the very highest style of their art. 
To lK>th painter and engravers the work has 
been a loving study. We doubt whether any 
book of the season will surpass this magnifi- 
cent volume in anbtic excellence. 

The Fidure Gallery Annual. Containing 
Forty-eight Permanent Photographs, after 
the Works of the moat Popular Artists. 
Printed by the Woodbury Process. Samp- 
son Low and Co. 

We can do little mure than characterize 
generally this excellent art annual. The 
subjects selected are from among the best pic- 
tures of our greatest artists — Mulrcady, Land- 
seer, Reynolds, Stanfield, Boxall, Cooper, and 
Turner among English painters ; Ludwig, 
Knaus, Frita, Neuber, Watleau, Mereier, 
Tidcuiund, Campliausen, Zubcr-Buhlcr, Pcr- 
rault, Gerhard Dow among Continental pain- 
ters ; with a picture each from Rembrandt, 
Velasquez, and Vandyck. They are rendered 
generally with fine effect. No photo-me- 
chanicul printing proccaa preserves delicate 



lights and shades and soft hannonious tones 
perfectly as the Woodbury process. It is 
excellent a series of copies of great masters 
can be brought within general reach. 



Consists of specimens of photographic art, 
but without any letterpress or explanation of 
the principle on which the selection is made. 
We have a page of 'Beauties ' photographed 
from well-known engravings, followed by 
vignette views of cities and mountain scene- 
ry, and selections of the works of our greatest 
artists thrown together without any apjiarcnt . 
order. The volume will form a beautiful 
scrap-book for the drawing room table. 

Virtue's Imperial Shainpere. Division V. 

The plays in this division are the comple- 
tion of ' Richard III.,' ' Henry VUI.,' ' Romeo 
and Juliet,' ' Hamlet,' and part of ' Cjmbc- 
IJne.' We are impressed, in looking again 
over Mr. Knight's annotations, with the 
scholar! ineas, wisdom, and penetration of his 
criticisms, and with the sagacity and fulneas 
of the historical illustrations. The essay on 
the historical plays, especially, which follows 
' Henry VIH.,' is a very masterly and conclu- 
sive discussion of their genuineness, demon- 
strating their unity of action and of characte- 
risation, and dealing in detail with the spe- 
culative criticisms adverse to it. Tlie histo- 
rical setting of the great dramatist by Mr. 
Knight is still the completest and best that 
we possess. The plates in this division are 
Pellie'a 'Touchstone, and Audrey;' Clint's 
' Falstaff and Anne Page ;' Macliso's ' Ham- 
let ; ' Gilbert's ' Shylock after the Trial ; ' and. 
Hart's ' Quarrel of Wolsey and Buckingham.' 
Modern Palnttr* and their Paint in ff», for the 
tite of Schools and Learner) in Art. By 
Sarah Tytlkk, Author of ' Pajrers for 
Thoughtful Girls,' &c. Strahan and Co. 
Miss Tytler has done a very delicate and 
difficult task with wisdom. Her former vol- 
ume on the ' Old Masters' presented themes 
which could at least be freely treated. Here, 
in the last portion ot the volume, she was 
dealing with living men, and had to be wary. 
And she has been wary, having hardly writ- 
ten a word that could "by poasibility give of- 
fence. She has evidently cultivated picture 
galleries assiduously, and never missed the 
chance of seeing a private collection, besides 
taking careful note of every suggestive fact 
and incident that came before her. Some of her 
own remarks are very apt, and show nice in- 
sight and good sense ; and especially is this 
seen in her remarks on Turner, Millals, and 
John Leech. We are quite sure this book 
will be much in demand ; for hitherto there 
has been nothing like it— so complete, simple, 
and succinct. 



>vGoogle 



Contemporary LiteraUa-e. 



POBTRT, PICT105, AMD DELLKB IXTTREB. 

The Paritiam. Vols. I. II. HI. By Edward 
Bct-WBit, Lord Lytton. William Black- 
wood and Sons. 

Wlicn we say that this novel promises to 
be better than the other posthumous works nf 
fiction by the same gifted author, we mean 
that in those inciJcnts which, at the present 
day, are apparently considered essential in 
■tones it is both more proliRc and more tan- 
talising. For instance, although two-thirds 
of the novel have now been published, the 
author has condescended to give but very lit- 
tle solution of the mystery of the plot, and 
we arc not of those who pretend on an unsa- 
tisfactory and incomplete basis to deSne ex- 
actly what is contemplated in the remaining 
portion of the story. The circulating libra- 
ries, at least, will admit that Lord Lytton is 
fulfilling the rUe tlicy expect of him ; he is 
avoiding the tiiRui which is so distasteful to 
the voracious consumers of imaginative ali- 
ment. In matters of art we are able to extend 
no unstinted praise to the powers of the la- 
mented writer of ' The Ca-ttons.' In this last 
work the characters which he has given us 
will bear comparison with any that have 
hitherto attracted our sympathies. His prin- 
cipal hero, the Frenchman of ancient lineage, 
is drawn with remarkable skill — a noticeable 
feature, it may be borne in mind — for there 
are few of our novelists who, with all their 
well-earned reputation, can goal>roadand re- 
present with truth and freedom individuals 
of other nations. The Englishman, Graham 
Vane, is also excellently drawn, and hts for- 
tunes nill be watched with considerable in- 
terest. At the close of the first volume he 
was represented as rather smitten by the 
channs of the singer Isaura Cicogna, whilst 
she probably would have owned to a some- 
what deeper feeling. The devious course of 
the acquaintanceship is resumed in the second 
volunie, and it is seen that the attentions to 
Isaura of the clever young Radical, M. Ra- 
n^eau, are uot at all relished by Vane. The 
latter, however, is somewhat restrained in his 
relations with Isaura by the fact that he is 
present in Paris with a specific object — viz., 
an endeavour to discover one Louise Duval 
and her child. The explanation is tendered 
in the second volume wny Vane is so anxious 
to discover the woman Duval. It.apearathat 
she was the wife of a rich undo of his, who, 
before giving his property ultimately to his 
nephew, left him the charge of discovering 
the lost wife. Louise Duval had sufFered 
wrong, but instead of trying to remedy it, she 
left her husband, and gave out the news of 
her pretended death. Vane was to find her 
knd marry the daughter ; or, failing in that, 
he was to have three-fourths of the property, 
and leave the other fourth to accumulate for 
the lost infant. He is therefore in Paris with 
this object, and yet almost falling captive to 
the charms of Isaura. The third volume 
keeps up the interest established in the 
second, and at its very commencement we are 
treated to a dramatic interview between Gus- 



183 

tave Ramcau and Victor de Mauleon. The 
latter contributes smart papers to Rameau'H 
organ, the Sent Comjnun, The circulation of 
this journal has been greatly augmented by 
Mdllc. Cicogna's romance, 'The Artist's 
Daughter ; ' and Dc Mauleon, being the pro- 

Sriet^r of the paper, is anxious to be intro- 
uccd to his fair contributor. Ramcau con- 
fesses his, love for Isaura, and before the vol- 
ume closes Graham Vane appears distracted 
by the horrible fear that ne may soon lose 
Isaura by her marriage with his rival. Mrs. 
Morley rallies the young Englishman, andthc 
last glimpse of him we have up to the present 
is when he is leading in the fair one to din- 
ner. There is much brilliant writing in these 
volumes, and the style, while not more epi- 
grammatic, is certainly as polished as any- 
thing we have received from the same hand. 
However the story may finish, and whatever 
may be the light in which we regard the plot, 
it is quite worth the while of every reader of 
fiction to read it, for the many qualities 
which distinguish it as the production of a 
superior mind. 

Luna : A Mere Love Story. By Maroaret 
C. Hblmore. Two vols. Smith, Elder, 
and Co. 

The title o* this story is scarcely (air. The 
authoress has attempted to eihihit many as- 
pects of fashionable life, and to set forth the 
ways of mortals under the sway of several other 
passions, far enough removed from love. It 
occurs to us, and we do not mean the suggcs- 
tioQ to be unfriendly, that ' indiscriminate 
flirting ' might have been a suitable head line 
for half these pages. The authoress, iu her 



of one of them ; but she is bo lavish of her 
creations that she immediately, with a few 
pen-strokes, kills ofi all three, and begins a 
new story with the fortunes of their offspring. 
An engagement to many between the chil- 
dren of tlicsc defunct brothers creates diffi- 
culty in the woy of the true love of the hero 
and heroine of the story. The difficulty dis- 
appears at last, and love triumphs over seven 
thousand a year ) There is very little charac- 
ter iiainting, but we have superabundant des- 
cription of personal attraction and efFcetivo 
costume. By far the cleverest delineation is 
that of the selfish, si-lieming adventuress, 
Harriet Field, who, under cover of professedly 
benevolent intentions, docs her utmost to rob 
Diana Deshon of her affianced cousin-lover, 
and who is finally exposed and dismissed 
from these dainty pages. The excessive and 
most objectionable ' slang ' put into the lips of 
young ladies who are described as excruciat- 
ingly beautiful, as well as the utter weakness 
of the characters and conversations which 
throng these pages, may be intended for sat- 
ire, but the pleasantry, if such it be, is heavy 
and prolonged to weariness. The liclpleaa 
stupidity of all the men-folk, with perhaps a 
partial exception in favour of Launcelot, may / 
be equally sarcastic, but it so the sarcasm is / 
powerless. In the Bi — . '~-i-i-— n i_i _* 



e fashion, ' Lancelot of 



,, Google 



Contemporary Literature. 



Jan. 



the Lake ' is throughout the story represented 
as the ideal man, and this possibly may be 
another caustic, though half-concealed satire, 
on Mayfnir. In any case, 'Luna 'docs "' 
herald the advent of a new novelist of 

Itan de Biron ; or, the Rutaian Court in the 
Middle of last Century. By the author of 
' Friends in Council.' In Throa Volumes. 
William IsbiHter and Co. 
Sir Arthur Helps has here succeeded in in- 
terleaving the historical with the imagina- 
tive in a very effective and graceful manner. 
We as a matter of course expect knowledge, 
and skill, and suggest! ven ess from him. Here 
we have all these, out with something super- 
added — a touch of broadly dramatic and strong 
human interest. In fonncr fictions he has, if 
not directly, yet halt consciously, held a the- 
ory which he could not help now and then 
turning the eye upon, to the injury of the 
chanieters. Here he has kept his characters 
wholly in liis eye, and incidentally illustrates 
ninny problems of human society and govern- 
ment without consciously intending it. Si- 
beria, with its odd employments and pastimes, 
its trials and love affairs^about ail these our 
readers must learn from the work itself. '\Vc 
are sure they will like the Princess Maria 
Serbatoff, whether she is seen chopping wood 
by the side of her lovei Joan, or nursing the 
man whom she had learned to hate so thor- 
oughly, or moving again in the gay circles of 
the capital. The ' Qypsy ' Azra is well con- 
ceived- and carefully delineated, and forms 
an element of mystery in the story. Incident 
abounds, and is fitted with adroit adjustment 
into the framework of Russian history and 
manners. The plot is well conceived and 
carried forward in strong construction ; now 
and tlien we have exquisite passages of de- 
scription and glimpses of high society, to- 
gether with polished dialogue, glittering oc- 
casionally with wit and epigram. Wc should 
characterize this as the most stirring and 
■ novel Sir Arthur has written, and 
} doubt be a favourite with novel 

Lady B<U. By the Author of ' Citoyenne 

Jacqueline.' Isbister and Co. 

A work of this class may be regarded from 
two points of view — either as a restoration of 
a past period, or as a story. There can lie no 
doubt whatever that Miss Tytler has thorough- 
ly prepared herself for her task by careful and 
exhaustive study, and has been successful in 
imparting a certain degree of verisimilitude ; 
but sometimes her very effort in this direc- 
tion tends to injure the story both in charac- 
ter and construction. Certain critics said of 
'Citoyenne Jacqueline' that it could only 
hove been produced by one who had long re- 
rided in France, whereas we should say that 
it was, like 'Lady Bell,' rather the result of 
close reading and strict attention to social 
traits and anecdotes, as found in diaries and 
out of the way comers. In truth, she is so 
intent on historical truth that occasionally 
ahe verges on the theatrical in the manner in 



raT^ 



which her leading characters arc brought into 
relation with men and women whom we seen) 
to know as intimately as if they lived to-day. 
And it is very noticeable that she makes Sir 
Joshua Itcynolda and Mr. and Mrs. Siddona, 
for example, more vivtd to us by a touch or 
two, than her other characters by many 
touches. Especially is this true of her 
heroes ; for with women she is much more 
successful than with men ; Lady Bell being 
in every way graceful, dainty, and consistent 
even in her waywardness and whims; and 
Mrs. Sundnn, though a stronger-minded 
wonian, has got o smack of reality. Captain 
FaiiQ is an anachronism pure and simple ! 
The necessities of the plot, we suppose, 
make it needful that he should act in the 
stupid clownish, bearish way he does ; but in 
those days it was hardly possible for a man to 
have seen what Captain Fane had seen, and 
not to have learnt (more the pityl) some of 
the wisdom of the serpent, and the tact and. 
davgerout restraint of passion that comes so 
quickly in its wake. Miss Tytler lias not as 
yet created a iieroic male type that is not on 
one side soft and weak and womanish. 
Michael Ssrt in 'Jacqueline,' Caleb in the 
' HuKUenot Family,' and now Captain Fane in 
' Lady Bell,' with his untempered boyishness, 
even after long years of service, and contact 
with men of the Sir Charles Lascclles order. 
It is i3 these points that study can bring lit- 
tle or no help; and these are the |?oiuts 
where ' Lady Bell,' as a story, is weak, show- 
ing a certain narrowness in the writer. But 
as a glimpse of the time hardly anything 
could be better. It is bright, crisp, cleor, and 
finished like a series of cabinet pictures. But 
would it not liave been better if some of the 
scandalous passages had been more reticently 
touched t We have said this much by way of 

Brcfacc to asking the question. Why it is that 
[isB Tytler, with such remarkable talent, has 
never essayed history for young people ? In 
this depariment we ate fain to think that she 
would succeed where so many have failed. 

The Prmcotta of Pamphillnn. By Mrs. P.^br. 

Author of ' Dorothy Fox,' &c. Jsbistor 

and Co. 

Mrs. Parr is here very natural and very 
healthy, as we should collect ; but there is a 
certain want of gradation and perspective in 
this work. We are kept too much on the 
strain, somehow ; and the interest never real- 
ly rises sufficiently to justify it. We know 
almost from the first how it must be ; and we 
are driven back to memories of ' Dorothy 
FoK ' mentally to contrast and compare ; and 
we regretfully find that there is much repeti- 
tion, some very coarse and unfinished passa- 
ges, where relative pronouns go very strange- 
ly ajea; and, on the whole, a sad want of 
freshness and vivacity is apparent. It is just 
as though a very able writer had been writing 
against her grain. We have some Devon 
fisher-folk instead of the sweetly quaint 
Quaker element which so rejoiced ua in 
' Dorothy ;' but the leading characters are 
imply feeble rcfleetionB of former ones. 



zocoy Google 



1874. 

Betsey, the servant at Capt^n Carthew's, and 
the Captain himself, are tite best, and reaU7 
in them we have BOme hnuiour and tun ; but 
the transferring of the baronetcy from Ste- 
ven to Sir LcopoU is very clumsi I; managed. 
With every desire to be fair and favorable, 
ve cannot sa; that this is in any way an ad- 
vance on 'Dorothy Fox,' but the very reverse. 

Mr. Carriiigton. A Tale of Love and Con- 
spiracy. By Robert Turner Calton. 
Three Vols. Henry S. King and Co. 
Mo nam d£ plume can diacuise the author 
of 'Miranda,' A page is sumcicnt to reveal 
him to the verieat critical novice. Whatever 
his literary faults, he has a strongly marked 
individuality, which is no small merit. He is 
the Vumaapire of English novelists — the same 
exuberance and extravagance of conception, 
the same utter disrceard of probabilities and 
defiance of couvcntionaliams, while Disraeli 
himself is not more superb. Duchessy halls 
that require a railroad to get round them, 
rent rolls of a quarter of a million, gifts oC 
£60,000, old bank notes tor £30,000 found in 
old cabinets, a f rench duke for chief cook, 
&c. Ht. Collins' pen is as potent as ' Alad- 
din's Lamp,' and makes one feel quite niil- 
lionaireish. Mr. Carrington, again, is a Bi<lo- 
nia in a small way. He knows everybody, 
and can do everything. Nobody can resist 
his will, and he is everybody's protector. 
Dominie Sampson would exclaim ' prodi- 
gious.' There is no mistaking, again, the cu- 
linary delectations of the writer. He is as 
familiar with good dishes as Soyer himself, 
and designates rare wines with the minute- 
ness of an auctioneer's catalogue. He de- 
scribes women with the warmth of a Catullus, 
and indicates their points with the eye of a 
connoisseur. Scraps of ever so many fcBSts 
of languages are scattered over his pages, and 
songs, chiefly erotic, some of them very cle- 
ver end worthy of musical setting, alternate 
with dashing prose. It is impossible to criti- 
cise novels BO cronded with impossible inci- 
dent and extra vac^int sentiment, that contain 
all things possible and impossible. Our 
entire critical faculty revolts at them as lite- 
rature, but they are infinitely amusing and 
clever. We would not willingly miss ono of 
them. They are romance and sermon, satire 
and song, newspaper chronicle and political 
register, anil and jest book all in one. Mr. 
Collins is inexhaustible in the freshness of his 
animal spirits and the fecundity of his versa- 
tile fancy. We recommend our readers by all 
means to get his books, and passively to sur- 
render themselves to their enjoyment, qs they 
would to a clever burlesque. 

XaUnry Life ia Fruitia. First Series. The 
Soldier in Timt of Peace. Translated (by 
permission of the Author) from the German 
of F. W. HacklInder. By F. E, R, and 
n. E. R. Bampson Low and Co. 
HacklAnder is the Oerman Charles Lever, 
and in the military system of Prussia he has 
found a rich field for his novels. The diffe- 
rence between a Celt and a Teuton, an Irish- 



ConUmporary Literature. 



135 

man and a German, sufficiently indicates the 
dISerence between Lever and HncklSnder. 
The rollicking fun of the fonnerhasits coun- 
terpart in the mild humour tinged with fancy 
of the latter; add, too, the more subdued 
feeling of every German on alt Governmental 
topics. Nevertheless the story is rich in mi- 
litary fun, and the really large amount of in- 
formation concerning barrack life which it 
conveys is skilfully interfused with tlio per- 
sona! incident of the story. The hero in his 
own biographer. He tells us how he, a dra- 
per's apprentice, was fired by military enthu- 
siasm and became an artdlery volunteer. Hia 
experiences in barracks, first as a private, then 
as a non-commissioned officer, are detailed, 
and sundry regimental ofiicials aro> sketched, 
we fancy from the life; the choleric, kind- 
hearted Colonel von T , the narrow and 

spiteful Captain Feind, and the sentimental 
Bombardier Dose especially. Various pranks 
and escapades are recited, some of them giv- 
ing the hero a practical acquaintance with 
the guard-bonse and the hospital. Military 
life — military martinets especially — seem very 
much alike everywhere, but we feci the ex- 
cess of Prussian pipe-claj tbronghout. A 
vein of romance runs through the storj-, in 
the person of pretty little Emily, the niece 

of Count von R , whoee acquaintance 

the hero makes under circumstances more 
nearly approaching the author of 'Charles 
O'Malley ' in their roaring fun, than anything 
else in the book. The familiarity to which 
as a private soldier he is admitted docs not 
seem quite natural, but as he unexpectedly 
becomes the heir of a rich cousin, all proba- 
bly ends as in a novel it should do. We have 
been BO much interebted that we shall be glad 
to see the second series, which, we presume, 
will delineate the Prussian soldier in time of 



EUna. An lUlian Tale. By L. N. Cohtn. 

Author of ' Athcrstone Priory,' Two Vole. 

Longmans, Green and Co. 

The very high prsiso which 'Athentono 
Priory ' deservedly won might, we think, 
have prompted its author to a more speedy 
re-appearance in print. The fine quality of 
her workmanship indicated both careful 
thinking and the most patient artistic finish ; 
and ' Elena ' is in no way unworthy of its pre- 
decessor. It claims a place upon the shelf of 
our choicest contemporary fiction. The story 
is a sad one. Something more than a vein of 
deep pathos runs through it. Its very sub- 
stance is pathetic. The great features of the 
story are the bitter dcsolateness of Elena's 
childhood, and the cruelty amountingto hun- 

Sir and blows to which she was subjected. 
cr unrequited love and marriac 
Marchese Montanari, who, after t1 
ment, having won her love ii 
misery, permits her half aiste 
fascinate him ; and then when 
love has won him to remorse and reverential 
affection for herself, and their domestic life ia 
happy, the execution of Marco as one of the 
patriots of the last revolutionary war by the 



1 Marco 
engage- 
1 her days of 
r'B beauty to 
I lier patient 



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[Contenqiorary Literature. 



136 

Pontifical troops, U a tender and beautiful 
tragedy of life ; hartllj, perbops, relieved 
Bdlscicntl; b; tlic lionour and love of the old 
Marcheac, and l>j the heartless flirt Pauline, 
botli of whom are admirably drawn, as indeed 
is every character in the story. ' Elena ' is a 
Madonna- like portruture of true, unaetfisb 
love and sorrow. It is a very pure, high ton- 
ed, and charming novel. 



exquisite charms is suddenly admitted to thi 
splendours of London life, sees all that eye and 
heart can crave, canquera a true knight, who 
follows her to her home, wins her heart and 
hand, and forthwith starts with hec on the 
great journey of life. The surrounding cha- 
racter-painting is clever, and bits of descrip- 
tion occur which indicate a genuine desire tc 
represent fairly a Ilarapshire down, a scho- 
larly recluse, a West-end route, a country 
vicar, and a dinner at the ' Star and Garter.' 
The incidents are prosaic enough, with one 
rather clumsy exception. Why should the 
lovely ' Lily ' have been married twice, and 
that odious farrier turn out to have been her 
first husband? The difUcult; of the story 
might have been got over without the sug- 
gestion of such a hateful possibility as that 
of the ethereal widow being compelled to ac- 
cept her fate. Law, moreover, is not so fami- 
liar a theme as love to this writer. Still we 
must admit that a winter's evening may bo 
pleasantly beguiled by this version of 'A 
Long Summer's Day.' 

A Prineeit of ThuXe. By William Blacc, 
Author of 'Strange Adventures of a Phae- 
ton,' kc In Three Yolumes. Macmillan 
and Co. 

Mr. Black has, in this novel, steered clear of 
Bome of the tendencies which, in his former 
works, were open to criticism, !Ie has been 
more careful on points of construction, has con- 
descended to study ' surprises ' with care, and, 
while thus Siting this novel pre-eminently for 
serial publication, has made it really more 
efficient 13 a work of art — two things difficult 
to ilo with complete success. Sheila (granting 
the assumption of a certain native simplicity, 
which wo (ear i«, in these days of penny papers 
and women's rights, almost impossible even in 
the Lewes) is an admirable creation, very 
strictly sustained ; Lavender is cleverly done, 
though we fear diltUanti are not so soon or so 
ea.sily converted \tAo men of such devotion and 
industry as actually rise to genius; and 
Ingram is a very good relief. Wo are doubt- 
ful, however, if Sheila's confidence to Ingram is 
quite compatible with her determination to up- 
hold her husband, — as she does, for example, to 
her father and old aunt Lavender, who is truly 
an original, wiih her rough satiric directness, 
her stoicism, and her vaunted equability and 
seir-coDtrol. We confess that when Sheila, 
under a sad sense of flue feelings outraged, 
quitted her husband's house, and Prank La- 
vender .was sent adiiH on a yacht cruise in 



Jan- 

consequence, we were rather afraid that Mr. 
Black was to repeat so far the painful closing 
episode of ' A Daughter of Uetb.' But be bas 
steered clear of tbia rock as cleverly as the 
Phaba was run into Loch Roag at that auspi- 
cious time when tho parted couple were unex- 
pectedly to be united as young lovers onca 
more. But this is perhaps communicating too 
much of the story. It is full ot fine character- 
rendering, with the all-brightening thread of 
humour glimmering out now and then, a sub- 
dued sense of fun lurking, even in the dialect, 
somehow, though we have heard this in several 
points critically objected to by Hebrideana ; 
but the vivid descriptions of the grand and 
beautiful scenery of the west coast of Scotland 
no one, we think, could full to admire. Alto- 
gether, this is n work of singular power and 
delicacy, and justifies our< placing Mr. BUck ~ 
cUmott in the front rank of English novelists. 

The Blue BO/Km.. By tho Author of 'St. 

Olave's,' * Janita's Cross,' Ac., Ac. 

By the 'blue ribbon' is not meant any 
aristocratic decoration, but a simple ornament 
which is worn one evening by f, charming Ger- 
man giri, and plays its part in her subsequent - 
history. The book is distinguished by the 
purity and simplicity of style which marked tlie 
author's previous productions, but there is no 
plot to speak of in the story, and none of the 
inddents are stiiring or sensational, with tho 
exception, perhaps, of ihc sudden disappearance 
of tho heroine at one time under circumstances 
that excite serious apprehension. It is not for 
us to Icll tho story, but only to remark that 
several of the charactf rs are well drawn, tliough 
in some there is a little tendency to exaggera- 
tion. Tho family of the Monkestons is tho 
centre of interest; the mother, daughter, and 
son grow upon tho reader. Indeed Hoger, tho 
son, is the hero of the tale, but he would not 
be much without Gretchen. Gretchen is a 
German maiden whom circumstances have led 
to a little English town, where she has to work 
for her maintenance, and where R(^er meets 
with her. Her character is beautifully con- 
ceived and admirably pourtrayed. Her simpli- 
city of thought and speech, her perfect natural- 
ness, everything that belongs to her indeed, 
helps to throw a hnlo about her; she live^ 
before us in her words and actions. Of Roger 
we hear more than wo see ; opportunities occur 
favourable to his scientific advancement, and be 
makes progress rather more rapidly tlian is 
usual in rial life, Jean, his afflicted, decrepit 
sister, k a superior and charming person. 
Many of the sort of people to be met with m tho 
would-be fashionable society of a small town 
are hit off with great skilL There is a tragic 
element in the story in the person of one who 
had l>ecn early married to an Italian singer, 
and then abandoned by him, who lives for re- 
venge, and whose character is well rendered in 
its mixture of fierce passion and womanly ten- 
derness. The object of the book would seem to 
bo lo attach dignity and importonco to art, es- 
pecially in connection with the higher forms of 
musical culture. One or two of the minor 
characters get too talkative, and become tire- 



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ConUrnporarj/ LiUralwe. 



Eome i but the book, ae a whole, will rcpaj 

EcrastI, not onl J bj Ihc interest it may avukcD, 
ut by some of ils shrewd suggestiTe obscrra- 
lions on men and tliingn. 

Mittreu Judith. A Cambridgeshire Slory. 

By C. C. FiiASEB-TvTtEit. Two Vols. 

Sampson Low nnd Co. 

The author of Jasmine Leigh 'is incapable 
of other than flnished and delicate work. 
'Mistress Judith' is a very careful study, full 
of beauty and pathos. Its only incongruity ia, 
tliat the daughter of a scliolarly clergyman, like 
Parson Ingrey, should have been IbII to grow 
up in such a neglected way, Tlie story is very 
simple. Two brothers of the villaj;e gruw up 
with tifr from cliildhood. Jesse, the elder, is 
the parson's favourite, and is educated by liiui 
for some great career. While ho is away, Amos, 
the younger, learns to lovo Judith, uid imparls 
his secret to his brother. Jease proves un- 
worthy, betrays the conHdence of his patron, is 
treacherous to his brother, and breaks Judith's 
heart The exquisite workmanship of the story 
is seen in its quiet descriptions and delinea- 
tions of Cambridgeshire scenery and life ; its 
pathos in the pure love, fidelity, and death of 
Judith. It is the old, old t^tory, unspeakably 
Eod, but most exquisitely told. 

SelecthM/rom the Foem* of CharlotU EUiott, 
Author of 'Just as I am.' With a Memoir 
by lier Sister E. B. Religious Tract Socieiy. 
Charlotte Elliott was one of a gifted family. 
Her uncle, the Rev. John Venn, was Rector of 
Claphum, her grandfather was the Rev. Henry 
Venn, of Haddersflcld. Her two brothers were 
the late Rev. H. V. Elliott, of Brighton, and the 
Rev. E. B. Elliott, author of the * Jlorie Apo- 
'calypticffi.' Sho was throughout her life an 
invalid ; in 1820 she seemed near her end, she 
lived however until 1871, and died in ber 
eighty-second year. Her sister's memoir ia 
necessarily slight, but it is full of tenderness 
and piety. Charlotte Elliott belonged to tho 
mystical side of Evangelicalism ; her chief 
spiritual guide was Cesar Mahkn, who was the 
means of solving religious perplexities for her \ 
but surely one may question tho wisdom of the 
advice to abstain from all rending but that of 
the Bible, although in Miss Elliott's ca^^e it was 
in the judgment of her lister beneHcial. ^V'e 
have the deepest respect for tlie simplicity and 
devoutness of Dr. Malnn's spirit — few more 
beautiful instances of godliness could be ad- 
duced. ■ It is, however, greatly to be regretted 
thai, the piety of llie Evangelicals generally 
should so sadly lack pliilosophical and human 
breadth. To this i* to bo attributed the defec- 
tion from it in both directions of some of the 
noblest minds of this generation, the narrow 
conventionalism of its religious life and litera- 
ture, nnd the feeble hold that it has upon Eng- 
lish Christianity in spite of a very general 
sympathy with some of its fundamental doc- 
trines. Tho Evangelical form of Protestantism 
is most congruous with our English religious- 
ness, only the mysticism, the narrow dogmas, 
and tho lack of philosophy in its thought and 
life has hindered it from ruling tb« land. Uiss 



137 

was in full sympathy with that section 
of the Evangelical party represented by Dr. 
Malan. Her hymns are full of a tender, experi- 
mental religiousness, just as some of the 
hymns of tho Sacramenlarians are. A feeling 
of mystical fervour inspires both ; the result 
divei^es only where positive dogma is intro- 
duced. The volume contains upwards of a 
hundred pieces, some of them very beautiful, 
the expression ofa suffering as well as of a de- 

Lining Voice*. Selections chiefly from Recent 
Poetry. With a Preface by His Grace tho 
Akciibibudp or CA.NTBBBUur, Strahan and 
Co. , 

This is a very admirable selection, so far 
supplementing the anthologies of Mr. Palgravo 
and Dj'. Trench by eschewing pretty much the 
older poets and selecting from singers of the 

K'esent, from Alfred Tennyson to Christina 
ossettl. Not only is the selection good and ao 
far new, but tho arrangement is wise and dis- 
criminating. American poets ore fairly repre- 
sented, but no more ; and as the volume con- 
sists of nearly 550 pp., the reader has before 
him, in fact, the cream of recent English lyrical 
poetry. The only name of note that is absent 
is that of Mr. Swinburne. It will form a very 
beautiful Christmas present. The Archbi- 
shop's preface is happily conceived, 
Lyrict of Aneienl Palestine; Poetieal and 
Pictorial ; Illustrative of Old TesUment 
History. Religious Tract Socieiy. 
One of the best of tho illustrated verse books 
that the Society has published. The 'Lyrics' 
are well selected, the illustmtions are good, nnd 
generally are true to local featuics. Had 
Mose«, however, been put into an ark relatively 
so small as that which Mr. Stainlnnd has drawn 
for hitn, he would have fared badly on the 
Nile. The book, bowevor, is a charming one 

Yetterday, To-day, aitd For Ever. A Poem 
in Twel/e Books. By Edwakd Henhy 
BiCKERSTETn, M.A. New Edition. Riving- 

Mr. Bickorslelh's poem has attained a much 
greater popularity on the other hide of the 
Atlantic.than.it has on this ; which is the cnso 
with some other productions of our modern 
literature— Mr. Charles Reado's works, for 
instance. If we did not remember that this is 
also true of Dickens and Tennyson, and per- 
haps of Thackeray, it would surest a moral 
respecting the comparative literary maturity of 
the two countries. Mr. Bickerstetb's pAem de- 
serves more attention than it has here received, 
although it appears in a third edition. It is 
the production of a graceful, devout, and 
earnest mind, and ministers in many ways to 
toiling and suffering faith. Ur. Bickersteth has 
the misfortune, inseparable from his theme, of 
sometimes suggesting comparison with Milton. 
Ho does not soar very high, nor burn with 
great passion, even in the greatest scenes ; but 
he describes smoothly and pleasantly, and witli 
poetical afflatus enough to command many 
readers. 



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138 

Paen» 6y William Gvlhn Bryant. Collected 
and Arran^d by Himself. Author's Edi- 
tion. Twenty -four Illustrations and Por- 
trait. Henry S. King and Co. 

This is B. very boautiful reprint of the New 
York cdiuon of 1671, which contains sercml of 
the venerable author's poems not preriously 

?ublishcd. It, is a very charming gift book, 
'ha type, though small, is clear ; Ihc full-pngo 
illustrations are engraved by the BroUiers 
Dulzicl from drawings by Foster. Wo are 
glad to possess so neat and elegant an edition 
of the works of the most tboughlful, graceful 
and Words worUiian of American poets. 

ProM IdyU*. Old and Nem. By the Rev. 
CnARLK KiNOSLET, CanoH of Westminster. 
Macmillan and Go. 

The bulk of this book consists of reprints of 
early Brtide.s from Fraaer't Magacint. These 
are the old prose idylls ; the rest beiii^, if n 
mistake not, articles from Oood Wordi, ar 
these are the new ones, ^^e have thi 
brought together the styles of two periods, for 
the sketches of ' North Devon ' appeared as 
early as 1S49, while the latest, from Good 
Words, was printed in that periodical only a 
couple of years ago. If Canon Kingsley has 
gained a certain compressed and familiar direct- 
ness of diction, certainly these early papers 
show wonderful vivacity, and re.ach a playful 
abandon and wtmpling clearness which he lias. 
In his riper years, hardly ever equalled. This 
volume has a certain unity of its own — it may 
be called Mr. Kingsley's out-of-<)oor ekeiches, 
and belongs more to the Christopher North 
stylo of literature than anything else we could 
naraa, though it has, of course, a distinctly 
individual note. Canon Kingsley has more of 
scientific exactitude of mind than Wilson 
ever had, more patience of minute observation, 
and power to detect and express nice shades 
of diliercnce ; while perhaps ho cannnt dash oGf 
preat pictures with the facility of the Professor. 
But there is the same healthy courage, buoyant 
animal spirits, delight in mere motion and ad- 
venture, while to both, the rougher winds are 
right welcome. Mr. Kingsley contrives to im- 

Sart a great deal of good information to fly- 
shera in his ' Chalk -Stream Studies,' and to 
shooting men in his ' North Devon j' whilst he 
ever and anon lapses into scientific exposition 
of the liveliest kind, and varies it with descrip- 
tive passages of the rarest excellence. The 
book is altogether a delightful one — it exhibits 
the author's best traits, and cannot fail to in- 
fect the reader with a love of nature and of out- 
door life and its enjoyments. It is well cal- 
culated to bring a gleam of summer, with its 
pleasant associations, into the bleak winter 
time; while a better companion for a summer 
ramble could hardly be found. Prom ' Ocean 
to Sea,' we should mention, gives a most 
picturesque account of a very interesting por- 
tion of France. We have noticed, however, 
many instances of incorrectness in miDor points. 

TUb Fnend$Kip of Booht and other Lteturet. 
By the Kcv. F. D. ilxoucs- Edited, with a 



Contemporary Lileraltire. 



Jkii. 

Preface, by T. IIuonES, M.P. Hacmitlatr 

and Co. 

Mr. Hughes' preface seeks chiefly to vindi- 
cate Mr. Maurice from the criticism of Mr. Mat- 
thew Arnold, in his 'Literature and Dogma,' — 
which affirms that 'in theology he passed his 
life beating tlie bu.sh with deep emotion, and 
never starting the hare,' and which he meets 
mainly by a (u guoque ; the strictures of Mr. 
Morley on Mr. Maurice's 'Theory of Con- 
science ;' Mr. Darwin's theory of tlie ' Origin of 
Species ' as criticised by Mr. Maurice ; and the 
passage in Mr. Mill's autobiography, in which 
Mr. Maurice's amusing faculty for finding all 
conceivable things in the Prayer Book of the 
Church of England is noted. We have, we 
think, read ainiost everything that Mr. Maurica 
has written ; and notwithstanding Mr. Hughes* 
protestation we think that Mr. Arnold i« right. 
We have often sorely puEzted ourselves over 
Mr. Maurice's meaning; sometimes we have 
failed to discover it, and at other times have 
wondered as much as Mr. Mill at what we have 
discovered. Mr. Maurice was a preacher ot 
books — he made no distinction between ser- 
mons and essays. He always thought earnest- 
ly, and sometimes his earnestness gave great 
clearness to his writings — but he printed what 
he thought, as naturally and profusely as other 
men speak It. Hud he printed only one-fourth 
as much, and bestowed upon it four times more 
literary care, ho would have made a permanent 
contribution to theological literature. As it 
was, ho was a great spiritual force, rather than 
a great teacher. His influence is felt through 
English theology, but ho will have no perma- 
nent place in it; he was loo careless about the 
literature of his thoughts ; his books perform 
tlie function of sermons only. His mental ac- 
tivity and his broad sympathetic charities were 
simply amazing. The lectures In this volume 
on Books, Words, Newspapers, Civilization, 
History, 'The Faery Queen,' Milton, Burke, 
kc, were delivered to various associations- 
one lo the Royal Institution and several to ihe 
Working Men's College. They are the out- 
pnurlngs of a very full mind, whose energies 
were wonderfully sustained at a high level : 
tlicy are singulai'ly penetrating, instructive, and 
stimulating; and are often very charming ; but 
they would have been twice as good had they 
been half as long. The criticisms that Mr. 
Hughes deprecates will, wo think, be the con- 
clusions to which the world will gradually set- 
tle down. We should be at a loss to single 
out one of Mr. Maurice's many books unless it 
be his ' History of Phdosophy,' tiiat will live 

literature. 
Matter- Spiriti. Br Robert Bucbanak. Henry 

S. King and Co. 

Mr. Buchanan is a man of uncommon force 
of intellect, but he too much wants measure 
and the reticence that comes of complete self- 
respect for illustrating successfully his own 
idoid of criticism. That ideal is highi It de- 
mands two things — complete self-withdrawal, 
of sinking all individual prejudice 
less ; and next, as flowing out of 
this, complete eiqiression of the individual 



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1874. 

genius. On this account he prefers Mr. Mat- 
thew Arnold to Mr. 0. H. Lewes, «nd even to 
.Mr. R. H. Button, who are touched with what 
he cnlls the editorittl leaven, the absence of 
which in M. Taine be rather fondlj celebrates. 
But in the very manner in which this intima- 
tion is couched — the peculiar onut that, so to 
Hay, lies in one or two expressions he uses- 
he signiflcantlv violates his own canon. The 
veij word ' disintorested.' on which he laja 
stress, cannot be applied to a good deal of this 
book, though it must be said that some pas- 
sages in the first esssj arc yerj piquant and 
humorous, and will hurt some folks' toes. But 
why does Mr. Buchanan trouble himself with 
criticism at all, when he can produce such 
charming e.s8ays as that on 'The Birds of the 
Hebrides F ' This deserves to rank with the 
very best essays of Christopher North. There 
is a light airy movement in it like the waft of 
a win^- And what a delicious volume he 
could nave given us if, content to wait for a 
season, he had set himself to find for this gem 
a (nore worthy companionship. 'Poets in Ob- 
scurity ' — sketches of George Heath, the moor- 
land poet, and of William Miller, the nursery 
laureate — are excellent in their way, and if we 
may take this as an illustration of his own 
theory of 'self^wmmunication,' this article 
deserves to rank high ; but it is, we think, 
somewhat spoiled by references to topics which 
Mr. Buchanan has tended rather to overdo. In 
the 'Scandinavian Studies' we have insight, 
and occasional gracious touches, a delicacy of 
appreciation altogether uncommon; and it 
must be said there is some smart writing in 



'King and the Book ' among them — are little 
more than trifles ; but the book is right read- 
able, and frankly eihibits Mr. Buchanan's per- 
sonal characteristics. 

At NlglUfaU and Midnight: Mntingt after 
Dark. By Fhancis Jacoi. Hodder and 
Stoughton. 

Mr. Jacox' must go to a feast of books every 
day, and carry away the scraps ; nay, we are 
tempted to think that at every meal some mir- 
acle, like that of the Wilderness, must be per- 
formed, and the five barley loaves be multi- 
Blied inUi twelve baskets full of fragments. 
e fairly distances our imiginatlon of either 
memory or common-place books. The chief 
marvel is, that he can so accumulate his stores 
of quotations and allusions round so many out- 
of-the-way things — thread bis variegated beads 
upon so many kinds of strings. In his new 
volume he has chosen Darkness as his theme. 
His chapters treat of Twilight, Homewards at 
Nightfall, Shadows, a Moonlight Bide with 
Wordsworth, Noctambuhsm, Glimpses Within 
by Gazers Without, Bird's-eye Views by Night, 
Wind and Rain by Night, Fire-gazing, Night 
Students, Ac, through twenty-eight chapters ; 
' and every page of each of them choke-full of 
illustrative quotations. It is wonderful, ' pro- 
digious,' and as interesting as the literary col- 
umns of a country newspaper. EveryUiine, 
moreover, is exactly in its place. Hr. Jacox is 



Contemporary Zileralttre. 



139 

a consummate artist, a mosuc worker whose 
skill never fails; out of his rich materials he 
creates genuine books absorbing in their inter- 
est May his common-place book never faiL 
We do not believe it ever will. 



liuuian Foliytalei. By W. E. S. Balstok, 
M.A.. of the British Museum. Smith, Elder, 
and Co. 1BT3. 

In this volume, dedicated to the memory of 
Aleiander A/aaa»ief, abundant use is made of 
the eilraordinory amount of material prepared 
by that learned writer. But the editor and 
translator has not confined himself to the 
SkcJcai or Russian folk-tales which have tieen 
accumulated by this author, but has taken ad- 
vantage of the collections of Khudyakof, Erler- 
wein, and others. He has, however, wisely 
abstained from reciting those legends which 
GubemrUit so recently introduced to our no- 
tice when illustrating from Scandinavian 
sources the wide diSusion of the early Aryan 
myths, and the extraordinary prevalence of tho 
Beast Epos. Mr. Ralston is not like Slg. Oub- 
omatis, obviously bent upon any special theory 
of the origin of these extraordinary stories, 
which undoubtedly have many varii<nts, and 
are more or less connected with each other. 
The mythological portion of the present collec- 
tion of Russian folk-tales is mainly occupied 
with impersonations of mU. They doubtless 
have some remote reference to the malign forces 
of nature^ but are mainly silent on the deeper 
questions of sin and redemption. The Shitkat, 
which describe 'Frost as a wooer of maidens,' 
are highly picturesque and easily unravelled, 
and involve a certain moral lesson. The geo- 
graphical legends of the metamorphosis into 
rivere of Dnieper, Volga, and Dvina, are highly 
curious. A story r«sembling ' Jack and the 
Beanstalk,' or a combination of the ' Leaven- 
tree' myth with the legendary cunning of the 
Fox, the *Rip-Tan-Winkle' l^end, numerous 
ghost stories and vampire horrors, and a vast 
amount of rare and curious lore on the varia- 
tions of these stories occupy some chapters. 
The voltvne contains materia) enough to make 
a hundred Christmas books, at the reading of 



accumulated and classified much valuable in- 
formation for the use of those who wish to 
compare Teutonic or Celtic legend with that 
due to Sclavonian sources. 
(hfford. and Cambridge; their CoUegen, Meuv- 
oriel, and Ataociationi. By the Rev. Fred- 
erick Abmold, B.A., with Engravings by Mr. 
Edwabd Wqtupkb, F.R.G.S. Religious 
Tract Society. 

This is a useful u well as an interesting and 
ornamental hook. Now that the universities 
have become really national institutions, every 
'ass of society has an interest in them, and 
ill send to them its representatives. A cheap, 
elegant, and popular description of the colleges 
of each, with plentiful illustrations, together 
with an account of the university system, re- 
ligious life in each university, and the most 
prominent and iotereating sites and scenes iu 



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UQ 

each town, was » desideratum. Hr. Arnold 
nriteR in & thoroughly catholic spirit Al- 
though he docs not mention Noncanforming 
Churcties as forming any pari of the religious 
life of Oxford or Cambridge, he renders full 
justice to their Purilun names and associations. 
Therein, in triith,but little to be said about Non- 
confonnist religion in Oxford and Cambridge, 
BO far ns just now it is represented by build- 
ings ; but Robert Robinson and Robert Hall 
ore names in connection with Cambridge of 
note enough in sacred literature and oratory to 
have deserved a reci^nition. Happily, Cam- 
bridge Nonconformity has rolled away the re- 
proach of its unworthy buildings. In the new 
Congregational Church, now nearly completed. 
it has no cause for shame. When will Oifora 
Kon conformists follow the example F It is an 
unspeakable cause for regret that Nonconform- 
ist students at the universities should havenot 
only Iheir principles to maintain, but the dis- 
credit of some of the worst church buddings 
in Eoglond, the population of the two places 
being taken into account. We very heartily 
commend Mr. Arnold's interesting and elegant 
volume with its capital illustrations. 

T/ie French. Rumat^tt, from the Twelfth to the 
Nineteentk Century. By Walter Besant, 
M.A. Richard Bcntley and Sons. 
Mr. Besant is an indefatigable plodder among 
the literary dust of earlier French literature, 
and his industry is rewarded by frequent finds 
of interesting material. This, with ingenuity 
and skill, he works up into his biographical or 
literary structure. Ho is essentially a literary 
antiquarian, rather than historian or critic, and 
sometimes is guilty of the proverbial dryness 
of his order. But his essays on tlie whole arc 
interesting as well as informing. Incident, al- 
lusion, and quotation are gathered from a wide 
field of reading, the poetical quotations being 
rendered into English with mucli skilt. although 
he lacks the literary power and elevation which 
in his analogous volume on tlie 'Renaissance' 
Mr, Walter Pater has so remarkably shown. 

After a short chapter on the Chanson, Mr. 
Besant devotes eighteen chapters to as many 
writers, beginning with Rutcbeuf, the Trouv&ro 
of the thirteenth century, and ending with Ber- 
nnger. Clement Marot is omitted, together 
with tiio humorists of the flltecnth century, 
because they wore discussed in a previous work 
on early French poelry. Voltaire is omitted, 
simply because adequate space for treatingbim 
could not be found in a single volume. It 
would be unsatisfactory end useless in a notice 
like this to flit from paper to paper, and attempt 
a characterization of each in a sentence. Wo 
must content ourselves by Haying that a book 
which, with adequate learning and skill freits 
of the ' Romance of the Rose,' Rabelais, Mon- 
taigne, Regnier, Scarron, Boileau, La Fontaine, 
Moliere, Regnard, and Beaumarchais, must 
necessarily be rich in literary interest To 
literary students, the chapters on more obscure 
men like Rutcbeuf will be even more interest- 
ing and valuable. When odo thinks of the 
genius for keen, polished, and audacious satire, 
in which the French have always been so pre- 



Contewporary Literature. 



Jan. 



eminent, of the persistence of its type, from 
century to century, of the liirge element of 
classical literature which it constitutes, and of< 
the important part, polilical and social, which 
it has played in French history, one must feel 
that Mr. Besant has laid English readers under 
a great obligation by thus putting into their 
hands a scries of sketches, which will give them 
an adequate conception of the main points of 
this peculiar domain, and enable a just judg- 
ment of the authors of some of the master- 
pieces of French htcrature. 
The Periods of the HUtory of EnglUh Litera- 
ture in Sketch ei ; followed by a Third Newly 
Augmented Edicioo of F. M, Cowas's, Chro- 
nological Critical Table of English Literature. 
Amsterdam: P. N. van Kampen. 
Mr. Cowan's method is rapidly and broadly 
to sketch successive periods of English litera- 
ture, pointing out theirgeneral characteristics ; 
and to append to the sketch of each period a 
chronological list of its principal wtitcra, and of 
the chief works of each, with short critical 
notes ; primary works being distinguished 
from secondary by a difference of type. The 
writers are arranged numerically, to onableref- 
ereoce from the general sketch. The result is 
a very useful manual, differing in some respects 
from any other of its class. As might be ex- 
pected, it is not perfect. Singular omissioDS 
occur, and names like those of Deans Milman 
and Stanley, and Edward A, Freeman are put 
as subordinate, while all the honours of special 
type and characterization are done to Sir Arch- 
ibald Alison and W. II. Dixon. The work is 
an outline map of English and American litera- 
ture, which will be very convenient to students. 
As an English book from the Dutch press, it is 
singularly free from typographical errors, 
Enayn, By John Foster. Religious Tract 
Society. 

An elosant ond cheap edition of the celebmt- 
ed volume of ' Essays ' which, on its first pub- 
lication, gave Mr. Foster a distinguished place 
among the most original and vigorous thinkers 
of hisday. The important Introductory Essay 
to Doddridge's ' Rise and Progress,' written for 
' Collins's Series,' is appended. We are glad to 
see such a book in the Tract Society's list 
Foster is a fine tonic after a course of ordinary 
religious literature 



Messrs, Hodder and Stoughton have pub- 
lished new editions of The Dyiog Satiour and 
the Oipsr/ Girl, and ether Stories. By Uarib 
Hall {nee SiBUBB), originally published under 
the much more distinctive title ' Sermons from 
the Studio ; ' half a dozen as graceful and 
charming art-stories as recent years have seen. 
A writer who can do so well should surely do ' 
more : and of Buny Hands and Patient Hearts, 
a very touching story of a poor blind Dresden 
boy, restored to sight by an operation for . 
cataract, performed by & kind physician, and 



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Contemporary Ziterature. 



1874. 

of ths faith tncl love of his widoired mother 
and littlo Ristcr. — Columiiu ; a IJi^orieal 
Flay. In tire acts. By Edwahs Rose. Ef- 
JJDghaiB Wilson.) Although the copy oFthU 
play Bent to us is marked ' Acting Edition,' 
wo hardly can think it likely to have success 
upon the stage — it is too uniformly Eombre 
and stately. It is a dramatic poem, of con- 
siderable merit The characters of Columbus 
and hia son Diego are well conceiyed and ren- 
dered, as are Beatrice and Maria, whom they 
respectively love ; and the pride, jealousy, and 
uoscTupulousness of the Bishop Fonseca, and 
the nobles of Ferdinand's court. There is real 
pathos in the closing scenes which depict Co- 
lumbus sent home, bound, and his death, with 
his heart broken Beatrice in his arms. Mr. 
Rose is capable of rising worthily to a great 
dramatic situation ; as, for example, in the 
crisis of the mutiny, just when land is dis- 
covered, and in the noble Eoliloquy of Colum- 
bus, on his discovery. — Messrs. Sampson Low 
and Co. have added to their series of Ameri- 
can authors Mrs. Whitney's Gayaorthyt, <me 
of the best of recent American stories, and 
William Carleton'a FaTia BallaiU. The latter 
are new to us^they seem to be genuine pro- 
ductions of farm life, and ore clever and telling 
in versification. One or two of them, Betttj 
awl Tare Out, and Hoa BtUy and I Made up, 
may claim to be souiething more, and should 
win popular favour. There is, too, a good 
deal of rich humour in Un.el« Sammy. The 
ballads are decidedly clever. — Messrs. Smith 
and Elder have published a neat pocket edition, 
in good type, of Thackeray's Four Georijes. 
Il has tempted us again to read one or two of 
the lecturer. We are glad that their manly, 
scathing, kindly characterization, and sympa- 
thies should again appeal to general readers. 
Few books do more U> purify the moral atmo- 
sphere of history. — Abd Drake't Wife. By 
John Sacnders. (Henry S. King and Co.) 
The success of Mr. Saunders' subsequent 
novels, especially ' Hirrell,' has drawn atten. 
tion again to his first production. ""' ' 



on its first pdblication, but it needed ' Ilirreil 
to recall and fix it. It will probably maintain 
its place, as both in feeling and construction it 
is one of the best Gtoriea of its class. It ap- 
pears now as a volume of Messrs. King's pop- 
ular fiction. — The Brolhert Eantiau, a Story of 
the Voiges. By MM. EncKHANN-CnATiUAN 
(Sampson Low), appears in a cheap edition. 
Its charming delineation of still life in an 
Alsatian mountain village Is most perfect, and 
contrasts strikingly with the battle pieces of 
the same authors.— OaSriei Denzer. By Oli- 
ver Maddi Brown. (Smith, Elder, and Co.) 
Mr. Brown possesses considerable descriptive 
powers, but be is very deficient in dramatic 
representation. He tells the story, describing 
the way in which the dramatit jiertona move 
and feel — but they are scarcely ever permitted 
to exhibit themselves in dialogue.' The story 
is almost morbid in its gloomy anatomy. Ga- 
briel Denver, an Australian settler, of taciturn 
ways, is persistently wooed by his cousin 



141 

Deborah, a hard angular woman, to whom he 
under pccuniiwy obligation. In an evil 
ment he promises her uiat if she should be 
of the same mind at the end of a year he will 
marry her. Two or three months before the 
year expires he starts for England, to take 
possession of a fortune, which, by the intes- 
tacy of a distant relative, he unexpectedly in- 
herits. Deborah insists upon accompanying 
him. He falls passionately in love with Laura, 
a beautiful girl, who is a fellow- passenger ; 
and his love is reciprocated. The development 
of this passion, under the peculiar conditions 
of a long voyage, and under tho watchful jeal- 
ousy of Deborah, is described with a minute 
anatomy ; as is Ibe burning ship to which De- 
borah has set Are, and the four days' exposure 



their agony from hunger a 
book of horrors, but described with a good 
deal of Edjar Poe like power. — Margaret and 
Elitabttli; a Story of the Sea. Bt Satbkinb 
Sadndebs. (Henry S. Kingand Co.) A little 
confusion in the latter part of the story mars 
the effectiveness of a well-conceived and well- 
written tale, intended to set forth the moral 
power of ministering pity and womanly sym- 
pathy. The incident of Margaret's flight on 
her wedding day is not veiy natural ; but there 
is a good deal of pathos and dramatic power in 
tho working out of the pitying and faithful 
love of Eliauibeth. The discovery of her hus- 
band by Hector Browne would occur only in a 
novel i but the improbability of incident is 
condoned by the pure and tender feeling which 
imbues the whole, and by the literary skill and 
beauty of its style. — AUegorifi and TaUe. By 
the Rev. William Edward Hevgate, M.A. 
(Rivingtons.) There is a good deal of delicate 
feeling and graceful fancy in these papers ; 
some of them ore shortfables; others, ' Animo,' 
for instance, thinly disguised sermons ; all are 
true and tender in religious feeling, and none 
of them exceed three or four pages in length. 
—Ml/ Lady Ludlow^ and other Taiee ; included 
in 'Round the Sofa.' By Mrs. Gasebll. 
(Smith, Elder, and Co.) The publishers have 
done well in substituting for tho new volume 
or their cheap edition of Mrs. Gaskell's works 
the title of the first story for that of the fancy 
framework under which these half dozen tales 
wore originally published. It is longer than 
all the rest put together, and is a very charm- 
ing novelette. — Mike Home; the Buihranger 
qf Van Diemeiii Land. By Jahes Bonwicc, 
F.B.G.S. (Henry S. King and Cu.) A atory 
founded upon facts, and illustrating the social 
state of Van Diemen's Land half a century ago. ' 
The story is told in a plain, straightforward 
way, the author relyii^ mainly on flio interest 
of the incident The want of continuity in 
tho account of the bushranger's end alone pre- 
vents its being a scone of great excitement. 
Lfflla should have killed hii5. Mr. Bonwick 
may have narrated the facts, but the art suffers. 
— Messrs. G. Bell and Sons have added to 
their 'Bohn's Libraries' some interesting and 
important volumes. Canveriatiaia of Ooethe 
ailh Eehermann and Soret. Translated from 
the German by Jobh OiBNroim. Only Bos- 



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Contemporary Literature. 



Jan. 



well's Johnson can compare in inlcrest with 
Eckennann's fascinaling work. Aa Goetba's 
Recretaiy, be was his constant companion and 
litcrarj, aseociate from 1624 until htn death in 
18S2. Mr. Oxenford'g English edition has 
tbe advantage over the German original, tbat 
it mcorporates in proper chronological order 
Eckennann'a third or supplemental volume. 
This very charming book is now broujtht within 
the reach of all Tes^tsTS.—ThePotmtofSchHier. 
Translated by Edqak A. Bowbino. Second 
edition, revised. Ur. Bowring'a translations 
were publi-hed twenty years ^o, and at once 
won attention as n spirited and faithful ren- 
dering of the great lyrical poet. Tbe present 
edition is carefully revised, and minor mistakes 
and inacciuvcies are corrected. We tbink, 
howeTer, that the rendering of some of the 
lyrics, the ' Lay of tbe Bell for instance, is 
inferior to that of Lord Lytton's. Some of tbe 
rhythms halt, and some of the rhymes are 
dissonant, e.g. ' misnomer ' and ' diploma,' p. 
827. Like Goethe, Schiller vdll be translated 
again and again. — Life of Mary Quten of 
Seot*. By Aqnes Strickland. Two Vols. 
The life of Mary originally formed part of the 
' Lives of tbe Queens of Scotland.' It has 
been long out of print, and is here therefore 
reprinted in a cheap form, uniform with the 
' Lives of tbe Queens of En^and.' The merit 
of picturesque and fascinatiDg narrative can- 
not be denied to Miss Strickland, but her Tory 
prejudices are so strong that she can be re- 
garded only as one of the special pleaders of 
history. She sees only one side, cites only 
one class of evidence. No pretence of judicial 
inquiry is made. Mary is, of course, a royal 
saint. Tbe evideVice to tbe contrary adduced 
by Mr. Froude and Mr. Burton will, however, 
with candid minds, be deemed overwhelming. 
Still Miss Strickland has recent writers, xucb 
as Mr. llosack and Professor Petit, on her 
side. Her character is one of the permanent 
controversies of history. We should not, 
however, wish our own children to receive les- 
Bons in history from Miss Strickland. — Kitty't 
Sical: A Story. By SrnHET Mostvn, Three 
vols. (Samuel Tinsley). This story strength- 
ens into a firmer tone and greater interest 
than its banning promises. It opens very 
lackadaisically, and throughout, never gets 
free from a somewhat puling sentimentolism. 
One does, however, get interested in the fate 
of the heroine. Poor Lily is the wife of a 
drunken husband, whose brutality drives her 
to tbe point of suicide. He leaves her, and 
'after a period of purgatory with a hard spin- 
ster aunt, she escapes under her maiden name 
into the first heaven of governess life. Mean- 
while her husband dies in Australia. Engaged 
by Sir Thomas Uaudesley as governess to nis 
youngest daughter, she unconsciously becomes 
tbe rival of Kitty the eldest, who is to be mar- 
ried, it is understood, to her old playmate Mr. 
Rodney. Ur. Rodney doesnotseeit, especially 
after he has seen Lily, whom, after an explana- 
tion with Sir Thomas, he marries. Kitty, full of 
deadly hate, plans a malignant and mean re- 
venge, which she somewhat clumsily executes ; 
the chief misery, howerer, comes from a mis- 



taken identity. The novel is a weak one, and 
one is forced to skip the sentiment ; but we do 
get thoroughly interested in the fate of poor 
Lily, and are glad to leave her in the third hea- 
ven of perfect wifely bliss. — Heathergate. Two 
Vols. (Henry S. King and Co.) ' Heather- 
gate ' is somewhat too much of a chronicle. 
The interest is distributed over too many 
characters, and it needs some effort on the 
part of the reader, in the early part of tbe 
story especially, to retain a knowledge of 
tbeu* respective belongings. Some half dozen 
love stories, marriages, and deaths occur in the 
story — our interest being claimed by another 
as one drops ; and its personages are distributed 
over the earth. This artistic defect in construc- 
tion, and a certain outsideness of looking at 
things which is tbe result of it, greatly impaua 
the excellence of a well-writteD book. The 
scene is tbe Eastern Highlands, and the time, 
the American War, in the eariy part of this 
century. The strength of the story is its local 
colouring and its well executed contrasts of 
character, to which some interest is given by 
the delineation of an Episcopal minister and 
circle in the midst of Scottish Presbyterianism. 
The Aherdonian dialect is plentifully intro- 
duced, and will be exciting enough to Scotch- 
men. A good deal of shrewd Scotch good 
sense is introduced under cover of it. especially 
in (he mouth of Jemima Clavers. It is a gen- 
uine piece of work, and is worth reading, its 
structural detects notwithstanding. — In the 
Isle of Wight. A Novel. Two Vols. (Samp- 
son Low and Co.) There is not much to bo 
said of this story. It has neither strength, 
depth, nor brilliancy, it is a mechanical nar- 
rative of numerous fallings in love— often ab- 
ruptly — and without any delineation of under- 
lying processes. The contrast of the two bro- 
thers, Henry and Gilbert, is fairly maintained. 
Gilbert, a fickle, handsome, bnlliant soldier, 
falls in love with Elsie, who is engaged, but 
without much affection on her part, to his 
elder brother Henry, a clergyman. Henry 
discovers their mutual passion, and releases 
her; but Gilbert falls in love, and makes an 
offer to Maud Fortcscue while engaged to 
Elsie. Maud rejects him, and at tbe very time 
he receives a telegram to say that she is dying 
from a fall from her horse. Henry afterwards 
marries Elsie's sister, and facile Gilbert mar- 
ries his cousin Mira, That is all. aud tbe tell- 
ing is very fQor.—Only a Butterfly. By 
Gboboiaha H. Craik. (Sampson Low and 
Co.) This is not so much a story as a study of 
character. Hilda, a girl of seventeen, goes to 
reside for twelve months with Mrs. Eve and 
her ^rjve literary son Michael a man of five 
and thirty. The study exhibits the develop- 
ment of a passion a tefeehng for Michael in Hilda. 
There is literally no incident The psychologi- 
cal exhibition of her character, and the growth 
of her feeling, which is the entire aim of the , 
writer, is cleverly done, showing how in her 
butterfly nature dislike rapidly changes into 
affection, interest into passion, which seems aa 
if it would bre^ the little heart she has. 
Twelve months after her departure, as half a 
dozen lines inform us, she has lost her grief 



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1874. 



Contemporary JAta-ature, 



and her Ioto, and is mRiricd to Eome ods else. 
It is a curious study of a peculiar type of 
womanhood. — Tha Heir of Reddeiment. A 
Novel. Three Volunjej. (Samuel Tinslcy.) 
This novel is aliogcther free from pretence, 
although it is somewhat sensational, and it 
has not much power. It is a piece of compli- 
eale ingenuity, put together nith nkill, and de- 
veloped entirely by its incidents. The writer 
has but little dramatic faculty, the various 
characters conTerse very much in the same 
style. The chief interest gathers round the 
mysterious Jesuit, while ihc chief incident ' 
connected with his brother William. The chi 
racter of Father Walter is well sustained, that 
of Old Mattie ia somewhat too ethercalized, 
while that of Mrs. Reddeamont collapses alto- 
gether. Those who read novels for their inci- 
dent will get interested in the fortunes of Wil- 
liam. — Oolden Grain. By B. L. Pahjeon. 
(Tinsley Brothers.) Among Christmas num- 
bers Mr. Farjeon's little tale de-serres special 
mention, for its tender human sympathy with 
/nisery, even when it passes into sin, and itK 
delicate discriminations between the evil of 
brutal debasement, and the evil of ignorance 
and hard circumstance. Few living writers 
know the lower classes so well, or can describe 
them so graphically and pathnticallj. Mr. 
Farjeon keeps hold of our sympathies by 
never letting go the bright thread of sentiment, 
poetry, and virtue which is wrought into the 
lowlieut and almost the worst life. The author 
of ' Joshua Marvel ' is a preacher of the bro- 
therhood of rich and poor, more powerful, 
graphic, and tender than any other since Dick- 
ens, — Lyria of Love. From Shahapeare to 
Tennygffn. Selected and arranged, with Notes, 
by W. Davbnport Adams. (Henry S. King 
and Co.) — Engluh Sonntli. A Selection. 
Edited by Jobn Dbmhis. Two charming and 
scholarly pocket volumes of poetry, exquisitely 
printed, the contents of which are sufficiently 
indicated by their titles. Both editors anno- 
tate their pieces just sufBcientlj for informa- 
tion. Perhaps in both volumes some pieces 
are included scarcely worth preserving, but 
each collection, as a whole, is very choice. — 
Arlon Orange, and a Christmas Legend. By 
WaLiAM ALrRED QiBBS, Author of 'The Story 
of a Life," ' Harold Eric,' 4c, (Provost and 
Co.) ' The artist's edition ' of this poem is a 
. work of wonderasfaras the printer and binder 
have been concerned in it, and it bids fair to 
enjoy yet greater distinction from the profuse 
illustration to which it is destined. The pur- 
pose of Mr. Qibbs is obviously noble, and be 
shows in the successive cantos of this tnetrical 
novel, the sanctity and dignity of honest work, 
the sustaining force of a true and pure love, 
and the victory of faith. He begs his critics 
not to tell his story, however harshly they may 
judge his poetical demerits. We will not de- 
prive the readers of the poem of any pleasure 
that they may derive from the suspense. We 
admire some of the lyrical pieces introduced 
into the narrative eicoedingly. 



jReligioui Thovght in England, f-om the Refor- 
mation to Ote end of the last Century; a 
Contrihution to the History of Theology. 
By the Rev. Jons Hukt, M.A. Volume 
III. StrahanA Co. 

Mr. Hunt's third volume is, in our opinion, 
the most instructive and fascinating of the en- 
tire work. He has brought this magnum opitt. 
to a conclusion in a manner which docs nim 
great crediL The industry, patience, and im- 
partiality with which the difficult task has been 
pursued cannot be too warmly praised. It 
would be wonderful if be did not offend sus- 
ceptibiliticB on every side. Every section of 
Christian theology and ecclesiastical proclivity 
must be content to see the idol of its literary 
reverence stripped hereof all associated charms 
and set naked in this pantheon side by side 
with some redoubtable nval. But on scarcely 
a single occasion does the author speak his own 
mind. The controversy is tarried on, if not in 
the words of the writers whom he reviews, yet 
in fair epitomes of their ideas. The distinct 
voice, the sum total which any particular di- 
vine contributed to the thought of his age of- 
ten looks ludicrously small, compared with the 
greatness of the name and influence with 
which he is credited. Some, Bishop Wilson, 
for instance, and William Law, who have filled 
a large space in human reverence, are consider- 
ably plucked ; others whose direct influence on 
later controversies has been comparatively lost 
sight of, rise up from obscurity in virtue of 
their influence on succeeding literature, as the 
works of Conyers Middleton and Thomas Mor- 
gan, It would be unfair to our author to sup- 
pose that he docs more than attempt to present 
an outline of religious thought. The reader 
ou^ht not to expect from him a history of the 
religion of England duringthese centuries. In 
such a review, it would have been imperative 
to have weighed sentiments and the results of 
controversies and personal influence, and the 
following of men of mark as well as the effect 
on the iSe of multitudes of current or contested 
ideas. Here, however, we are rather walking 



the roaring tide of human life from which they 
are little more than the cold and crystallized 
precipitate. What we said in noticing the sc< 
cond volume, wo are disposed to repeat on re- 
ing the third, that the author can scarcely 
ealhis special sympathy with the Deists. 
Extraordinary space was devoted to them in 
the second volume, and scarcely less is afforded 
tbem in this. He is frequently and almost sly- 
ly insisting on their ' triumph, and on the ad- 
option of their main principles by the ' noisy 
boasters,' who claimed to bo the apologists of 
Revelation, Still we frankly admit the clear- 
ness, fulness, and candour with which the 
ailments of Butler and Clarke are marshalled. 
It would ni>t be easy to point to a better espo- 
sition of the immortal ' Analogy,' or a more 
succinct account of the 'demonstration' of 
Clarke, than those which our author has intro- 
duced into the body of bis work. There is 



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some trath in the ftllegaUon that Butler in a, 
side issue declared that virtue, that 'conduct' 
was the priocipal part of Christianity, that re- 
pentance and amendment of life were the uni' 
Tersal conditiona of salvation, apart, that is, 
from any doctrinal orthodoxy or even Christian 
faith. But Mr. Hunt appears to charge Butler 
with inconsistency in subsequently Uying such 
stress on the facts of the Christian dispensa- 
tion as to imply that these were in fact the 
principal part, the differentia of Christianity. 
But the word Christianity is used hy Butler in 
two difTorcnt sensed as the end which it is emi- 
nently adapted to produce, and as the intellec- 
tual process by which that very end is more 
Buroly secured. 

The lists and brief expositions of the Boyle 
and Bampton Lectures during the latter part 
of the eighteenth century form a very interext- 
:ng feature of the volume: but its chief attrac- 
tion is found in the concluding chapter, which is 
written with a singularly firm and masterly 
hand. There are numerous passages which 
wc should gladly insert, which set forth the il- 
logical position of the High Church party with 
singular felicity. Such as, 'they introduced 
the germ of a doctrine concerning the Church 
which carried in its bosom destruction to the 
principles of the English Reformation. The 
theory of a visible Church with authority was 
not tenable by those who rejected the authori- 
ty of the only Church which has anything like 
a claim to be the one society which Christ Him- 
self established. The High Churchman is il- 
logical, and that alone has saved him from the 
Church of Rome, He inverted the Catholic 
tiieory. Instead of accepting a church which 
presented itself as a united society, he went in 
search of a succession of bishops, which, even 
if proved, did not give the unity nor certainty 
of faith for preserving which, according to Ire- 
nseus and TcrtuUIan, that succession was ap- 
pointed. The true Chprch could secure a suc- 
cession of bishops, but a succession of bishops 
could not make a true church,' p. 369. Else- 
where he says, ' The desire for a visible church 
with authority seems to be a craving which no 
logic can annihilate.' ' Its existence in the 
Church of Enghind is mainly due to the Anta- 
gonism of the sects, and these have been able 
to throw it off chiefly through seeing how un- 
tenable it is in the Church of England, and 
through the consciousness that with themselvef 
it would be less tenable still.' It might be 
more just to say that they hold the conception 
incompatible with the essence of Christianity, 
and the true nature of the body of Christ. In 
the somewhat whimsical association of the 
Deists with the Methodists in this common re- 

Sudiation or independence of the eitomal evi- 
ences of Christianity, we arc a little surprised 
that he does not make reference to the strong 
language held by the Westminster Assembly 
that ' our full persuasion and assurance of the 
infallible truth and Divine authority of Scrip- 
ture is from the inward work of the Holy Spi- 
rit, bearing witness by and with the word in 
our hearts. Mr. Hunt does refer to Halyhur- 
ton's reply to Lord Herbert, but makes no al- 
lusion U> tl)e elaborate treatise, in which that 



Contemporary IiiUratwe. 



Jan. 



writer utterly repudiated the external evidences 
of the faith for the direct inward witness of 
the Spirit to their Divine reality. The writer 
of these volumes justly asks for a reversion of 
the sweeping condemnation of the religioiui 
thought of the eighteenth century, and we 
think he has supplied ample evidence c^ the 
breadth and variety of its struggles, and of the 
victories it has obtained. The volumes are a 
remarkable spedmen of dispassionate and cal- 
culated criticism, of self-acting, impartial con- 
troversy. 

The niatory of Jftu» of Jfauira, ecmwiered in 
ill conntftion with the Nalioruil Life of It- 
rati and related in detail. By Dr. TnEODOBB 
Keim, Translated from the Gorman. ToL 
I. Williams and Norgatc. 
This is the first volume of a theological li- 
brary, to be selected by a committee of gentle- 
men, belonging as a rule to more advanced 
schools of thought, represented by the names 
of Dr. Tulloch, Mr. Jowett, Dean SUnley, 
James Martincau, S. Davidson, and Mr. Picton. 
According to the prospectus it will furnish to 
Ei^lish readers the host results of recent theo- 
logical investigations on the Continent, without 
reference to doctrinal considerations. It is 

f rejected on the avowed ground that Clarke's 
oreign Theological Library is too much re- 
stricted to authors of a more conservative cast 
of thought The school to he represented is 
indicated by the names of Ewald, Hupfeld, F, 
C. Bauer, Zeller, Rotbe, Keim, Schrader, Haus- 
rath, Noldeke, etc Tlie works selected to 
commence with are Bauer's ' Paul, his Life and 
Works ;' Bauer's ' Christianity and the Church 
in the First three Centuries ;' ZcUer's ' Acts of 
the Apostles ;' Ewald's ' Prophets of the Old 
Testament;' Kuenen's' The Religion of Israel ;' 
and Keim's ' Life of Jesus of Nazara.' To 
those capable of using them a knowledge of 
works such as are proposed will be of great 
service ; the evil is that so many are not quali- 
fied cither by general scholarship or sound 
judgment, but ere led iiway as by a new reve- 
lation by any work that professes liberalism 
beyond that of tho orthodox writers with whom 
tbcy have been familiar. There is, however, 
no help for it, men cannot be saved by being 
sequestrated ; and as it is better for men gene- 
rally to be perfected by temptation — even 
though some perish in the testing — so it is bet-, 
ter for truth that all tests of scnolarship and 
theory should be applied to it 

We strongly object, however, to the assump- 
tion in the prospectus and in Dr. Keim's some- 
what self-complacent prerace that freedom and 
intelligence are the exclusive possession of 
those who break away from the conclusions of 
orthodox belief. It is an unpardonable arro- 
gance as well as a contradiction of fact for any 
class of thinkers to assume that they alone are 
independent, and are ' less biassed hy theologi- 
cal prepossessions.' A long and somewhat ex- 
tensive acquaintance with various schools of 
thought leads us to the very strong conclusion 
that the prepossessions of scepticism against 
orthodoxy are far stronger, more unreasonable 
and bitter, generally spewing, than the propos- 



ed by GoOglc 



^ 



1874. 



Contemporary Literatwe. 



IS of orthodozj against scepticism : one 
need onlj read the periodic&l literature which 
expresses its critical judgments of such think- 
ers to be convinced of thin. It is to them sim- 
ply an impossible conception that in the exer- 
dse of absolute freedom men should reach or- 
tbodoiconclosions; which we venture to saj 
is simply an impertinence. 

Dr. Keim's ' Life of Jesus,' the introduct«iy 
volume of which is before us, is a work of con- 
siderable ability. It is fair in its judgments, 
and moderate in its conclusions, and is alto- 
gether free from the extravagances and intoler- 
ance of works like those of Strauss and Schen- 
kcL Its spirit is that of Schleiermacher, and 
Neander, although, of course, not according 
eiactly with either. The present volume is 
almost entirely occupied with a critical exami- 
nation of the sources of information. These 
are classified as — (1) Pre-Christian Sources, 
Jewish and Gentile, such as Josephus, Tacitus, 
etc., although to call these pre-Christian sour- 
cesis somewhatof an anachronism ; (3) Chris- 
tian sources, such as Patristic and Apocryphal 
literature, outside the New Testament; and 
the witness of the Apostle Paul and of the 
four Evangelists within it The characteristics 
and authority of the four gospels are treated 
at great length, and generally in a candid spir- 
it, although to some of the conclusions reached 
we should demur. Although Dr. Keim con- 
tends for- Iha Greek original of Matthew and 
its preponderating unity, he thinks that 'essen- 
tially consistent additions were made to the 
gospel alter the destruction of Jerusalem b^ 
a zealous Jewish Christian contributor.' This 
assumption of the higher criticism thus to dis- 
criminate thecongruous elements of an ancient 
composition has been carried by Ewald to the 
length of absurd!^, and is, we venture to 
think, at the risk of being writ down ignorant, 
utterly preposterous, and impossible. Luke, 
Dr. Keim thinks, was 'written long after the 
destruction of Jerusalem ;' probably about the 
year 70. 'The new, unhealthy, and perverted 
spirit of Ebionitism and of dualism ' enters into 
it, the writer having had ' access to our Mat- 
thew in its older form — Matthew without the 
preliminary history and later additions.' ' A 
Samaritan source is also very obvious.'' Mark 
was probably written about the year 100, and 
certainly not by John Mark, the companion of 
Peter. Naturally Dr. Keim bends his chief 
strength to the criticism of John. His general 
conception of the aim of the writer is a noble 
and spiritual one, which can hardly, we think, 
be gainsaid, and bis general characterizatioDs 
are very line. But we demur to his conclusion 
that the book was written about 110-120, and 
that the apostle John was not its author; but 
either John the Presbyter, or some anonymous 
writer, who ' made an artistic use of the apos- 
tle's name.' The data upon which this conclu- 
sion is reached seem to us eminently dogmatic 
and unsatisfactory. Neither can we accept 
his depreciations of the historic elements in 
John on the ground of the subjective idealism 
of the writer; although his arguments on this 
point are far more plausible. Thej are, how- 
ever, amenable to the charge of subjective 

roL. LIZ. B — 10 



US 

idealism, wtuch he brings against the evange- 
list Dr. Kdm has not yet developed his dog- 
matic conceptions of Christ. The following 
sentence, however, indicates at the least an 
Arian standpoint: — 'Jesus has by no means 
claimed the equality with God which the gos- 
pel (of John) gives him, but he was assured 
thnt he was one with Ood, and of this belief, a 
later school of thought, in order to avert tiie 
later separations between God and the worli 
has sought to find the roots in an essential 
equality between Ood and Jesus. ... He by 
no means possessed perfect wisdom and virtue 
from the first, and neither at the beginning nor 
end was he all-knowing and all-mighty, but he 
was the marvellous man of God, with exceed- 
ing and divine powers, and became, when be 
was perfected, the exponent of the extreme 
wisdom of God, and the purest expression of 
virtue in human nature.' 

Some chapters on the ground work of the 
life of Jesus the volume also contains, in 
which the political and religious state of the 
Jews are discussed wilh great scholarship, ori- 
ginality, and breadth. We have only to add 
that the translation reads very smoothly, and 
could not be distinguished from an original 
vernacular work. 

Enays, Bihliral and Eceit*ia»tieal, Relating 
Ghi^y to tAeAuthmity aruj the Itderpretn- 
lion of Holy Scriptvre. By Rev. Hkmbt 
BuKOESs, LL.D. Longmans. 1673. 
Dr. Burgess has long been known as a pa- 
tient and learned explorer in theless frequent- 
ed paths of Biblical and ecclesiastical learning. 
Uis translation from the Syriac of the metrical 
homilies of St, Ephrem Syrus, and of the fes- 
tal letters of St. Athanasius, has rendered cer- 
tain aspects of the life and experience of the 
early Christians quite accessible to the English 
student. Dr. Burgess has for many years, 
nith liberal and enlightened feeling, conducted 
the editorial department of valued contempora- 
ry journals, and has contributed to their pages 
essays of various importance. They have 
been characterized by sound sense, and written 
in a spirit which would not allow compromise 
either with the evangelical or ecclesiastical po- 
sition of the Church of England, Many of 
these essays are reprinted in the volume before 
us. The clergy of all denominations might 
read with eminent advantage the paper on the 
' Defects of Clerical Education.' The essay on 
'The Literature of the Song of Songs' gives 
the results of Dr. Ginsburg's elaborate Intro- 
duction and Commentary. The reviews of 
Professors Jowett and Maurice appear to us 
too much confined to exclamations, as much as 
to say, ' Only think of that' They do not 
grapple with the positions of either writer, and 
give no other impression than that Dr. Burgess 
was very much shocked by the writings of 
those eminent men. The paper on 'The Earli- 
est Christian Writings ' is worthy of attentive 
perusal by all who reason d priori as to what 
God could not have done or allowed in the mat- 
ter of inspiration. Hesays truly that 'a right 
perception of the relation of the Scriptures 
to the early Church will lead firtt to ■ higher 



>vGoogle 



140 

•ppreeialion of the Church itself, and tuttndli/ I 
to a more rational and less BlaTishly literal uso 
of the New Testament in the conduct of con- 
troversies.' The essays on 'The HeTision of | 
the Bible ' are somewhat after date, and combat j 
aome preliminary difficulties which may be i 
fairly reckoned to have been at length sur' I 
mounted. The volume, as a whole, is an inte- I 
resting record of the labours of a derout, in- 
dustrious, liberal, and learned student of Bib- 
lical and ecclesiastical contrOTersies. 

On Sfme Point* in the Iteiiginm OgUe of the 
f/i'irenitift. B; Brooks Foss Westcott, 
D.D. Macmillan and Co. 
A collection of half-a-dozen sermons and 
papers preached at Cambridge, and read at 
Church Congresses, brought together into one 
volume in virtue of their common reference to 
university life. In literary character they are 
marked by great though tfulness, breadth, and 
culture, not always perhaps avoiding the inde- 
&nit«ncsa into nhich liberal feeling so oftpn 
passes its strivings after philosophical breadth 
and completeness. It is not easy always to de- 
termine the exact reference of the lectures, nor 
to accept their precise inculcations. They point 
to ideals rather than define exact conditions. 
Tbeir religious feeling in its spiritual yearnings, 
its amiable charities, and its devout iiimplicity 
must commend itself' to every reader. They 
cannot tie perused with6ut the reader's deriving 
both intellectual satisfaction, valuable sugges- 
tion, atid high impulse; and this is to bestow 
upon them very high praise. Dr. Wostcott's 
yearnings that the universities should be the 
homeand nurse of religious life to their alumni, 
the source of missionary inspiration, both to 
escite and to encourage its work, a spiritual 
power in the elements of virtue and piety, 
vrhichthey impart to the manifold life of Eng- 
land, and the means of a broad and high cleri- 
eal culture, are noble conceptions worthy of 
their author ; nor does it detract from their im- 
portance that these are ideals, to which, we 
fear, there is little in fact to correspond. Loirer 
toned, utilitarian members of the university 
ivill be very apt to smile at Dr. Westcott as a 
dreamer and an optimist, especially in his esti- 
mates of the relation of the universities to the 
Episcopal Church and its clergy. Even he 
cannot rise to the conception that they have 
largely ceased to be denominational, and — some 
few lingering privileges excepted, which their 
changed spirit will soon render impossible — 
have become national institutions. Dr. West- 
cott recognises as universities only Oxford and 
Cambrii^e. In them ho conceives the entire 
intellectual and religious life of the nation to 
have its springs. There is not apparently any 
consciousness of other university influence or 
existence, and yet London, Dublin, and Scot- 
tish universities do, we venture to thinlc, count 
for something in an estimate of intellectual and 
religious forces. For instance, how much of 
the missionary work of the last century has 
had any connection whatever with either of 
these two universities t The Scottish univer- 
sities have contributed to it a good deal ; Eng- 
lish Nonconformity a good deal more; the 



ConUmporari/ Literature. 



Jan. 



English universities are literally nowhere; nor 
do we think it likely that they will ever do 
much. The impulses that inspire the con- 
secration of men like Morrison, Williams, 
MofGitt, and Ellis, are church influences, not 
University influences. Even men like |Hcnry 
Martyn and Bishops Patterson and Mackenzie 
found their inspiration in their Church, not in 
their University life. Dr. Westcott reminds 
us of the superlative wonder of the Cambridge 
Don who, concerning some who had not had 
the privileges of either of the universities, ex- 
claimed, 'And yet they are God Almighty's 
creatures ! ' This narrowness of recognition 
notwithstanding, we give a very hearty word of 
commendation to his book. 

A Comparatire ViewoftheDeetrinadndCtm- 
feeiiotui of the Varioui Communilieeof ChrU- 
tendom. With Illustrations from their Ori- 
ginal Standard. Ity Dr. Gborob BitNEnicT 
WiNEK. Edited from the last edition hj 
the Rev, William B. Pope, Professor of 
Theol(^, Didsbury College. Edinburgh : 
T. and T. CUrk. 

This is the thirty-fifth volume of the fourth 
series of Clark's Foreign Theological Library, 
audit is one of themost valuable of the publica- 
tions issued by the publishing firm, to which 
theological students owe so large a debt Indeed 
it is more strictly theoli^cal in its character 
than the majority of these translations from 
German sources. For the most port these series 
have consisted of Biblical commentaries and 
ecclesiastical histories. Hero we have a compen- 
dium of comparative ■ymMic« of extreme inter- 
est and valua Dr. \Viner's great learning is a 
commonplace. His Bibtische» liealieorterhiich 
is a colossal proof of what may be accomplish- 
ed by one industrious student, and. as is well 
known, has formed the model on which wholo 
companies of Biblical scholars have worked in 
the production of dictionaries and cyclopiGdias 
of Biblical literature. Dr. Winer's elaborate 
grammar of New Testament Grceli, which has 
been frequently translated into English, is un- 
doulitedly the standard vrork on that subject 
In the volume before us there are signs of the 
same untiring research and abundant learning. 
A succinct bibliographical introduction enume- 
rates all the principal authorities for the belief 
of different Christian communities, the Roman, 
Oreek, Lutheran, Reformed, Arminian, Socin- 
ian, Quaker, and Anabaptist societies, as well 
as the illustrations, confutations, and defences 
of the creeds of Christendom by the most dis- 
tinguished and representative writers. Winer 
is careful to indicate that he was not making 
out the history of individual opinions, the de- 
velopment of personal ideas, out the confes- 
sions of churches, and the creeds of communi- 
ties. These are arranged under the doctrines 
of ' The Sources of Knowledge,' ' The Object 
of Worship,' ' The Original SUte of Man,' ' The 
Result of the Fall,' 'The Person of Christ,' 
'Redemption,' 'Conversion,' 'Predestina- 
tion,' 'Jtistification.' ' Holiness of the Regener- 
ate,' 'Los? of Grace,' 'Means of Grace,' ' Sac- 
raments,' ' The Church,' ' The Ministry.' In 
every case the original authorities are quoted. 



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Contemporary lAleratiire, 



UIA. 

knd il1u.stratJ7c remarks made in a strict!; im- 
partial spirit The editor, Professor Pope, has 
done more than translate, he has madeTaluable 
additions to the work, bringinR the Roman doc- 
trine down to t1)e latest development of Papal 
authority. Ho has also thrown some interest- 
ing li^ht on the deficiencies of the original 
work bj his thoughtful ' introduction' of e^htj 

Cges, and bj the comparative tables which he 
s appended, and which gather the results of 
the Totume t<^cther into one comprehensiTo 
and masterlj review. This edition of Winer's 
work had been previously edited by Dr. Preuss 
before he succumbed to the Church of Rome, 
and it retains some of that editor's 'incisive 
notes,' when he was controverting the doctrine 
and discipline of Rome. It is important to ob- 
serve tliat until the times of the Reformation 
the voice of the Roman Church, when assert> 
ing her creed, took rather the form of a confes- 
sion of her faith to God, and was largely con- 
fined to the fundamental questions of tho 
IHvinc Nature and Glory. Fiince ihe Reforma- 
tion, Rome in the Council of Trent has descend- 
ed into the arena of coritroversy, and has elab- 
orated with minuteness her faith on the nature 
of redemption, and the means of (;racc, and the 
authority of the Church. In like manner we 
have to descend to the seventeenth century be- 
fore we have the confession of tho orthodos 
Greek Church, as addressed to man, and as 
concerned will; the method of human redemp- 
don. The speculations of modern German 
divines, and the developments of rationalism 
are necessarily omitted, as not coming under 
the category of the confessions of communities. 
Professor Popo has indicated for the student 
how he might expand and develop this nucleus 
of theological dogmatics into a vast eurtut, or 
tumma toliut theologiix. 

The Permanent of Chrutianity eonndtred in 
Eight Lecture*, preached before the Univer- 
eity of Oxford in the j/ear 1873, on the 
Fouiidntum of the late Men. John Bamptin; 
M.A. By John Richard TuRSEit Eaton, 
M.A. Rivinglons. 

We have read Mr. Eaton's book with pleasure 
and profit, and we heartily commend it as a 
valuable contribution to the series to which it 
belongs. It indicates extensive reading in all 
quarters bearing upon the great controversies 
to which it relates ; it hears throughout the 
marks of vigorous and independent thought ; it 
is marked by a spirit of Ihe most candid fair- 
ness ; it is clearly and forcibly written, and it 
is often eloquent. It isadefencc of Christian- 
ity, more especially ^ainstarguments directed 
against it based on the results of scientific re- 
search ; and. which, if fatal to the Christian 
scheme, must be also fatal to tho 
religion generally. The special aim of the 
writer is to establish' the truth of Cbristii 
first, from its post continuity and tenacity, and 
neict, from its indications of ultimate perman- 
ence. In his'Grst lecture Mr. E!a(on affirms that 
iho continued existence of Christianity, in un- 
diminished and oven increased vitality and 
power after the lapse of eighteen centuries is, all 
things taken into account, a substantial argu- 



147 

ment for its ti'utli. He does not deny that 
'ancient religions, false and pernicious, have 
flourished through immense periods. This has 
been due to the elements of truth which they 
contained, " a soul of goodness in things evil." ' 
Yet ' these old-world theologies lack the criteria 
of permanence. , . . Their power has steadily 
declined; they have lone since ceased to ex- 
tend the area of their behefs. They have never 
jet borne the brunt of advancing civilization. 
The rel^on of Europe has passed tlirough 
storms of barbarism, persecution, and doubt. 
whilst over Asia has brooded an immemorial 
calm, broken only by tides of military con- 
quest.' ' There is then good reason to believe 
that it must he true and will prove to bean 
accompaniment of human pro^ss to the end.' 
But it is assumed that Christunity has failed. 
If so, the chaise must be sustained cither ' by 
the cihibiiion of a fixed tendency to decline, 
or from afecbloness and prostration so chronic 
and inherent as to defy dispute, or, lastly, 
from the discovery that the tenets of Christ 
tianit; are incompatible with truths now very 
generally acknowledged, and with that marked 
pn^ross in intellectual effort which is a main 
ingredient in the present condition of affairs.' 
It is with the last of these alternatives that Ur. 
Eaton occupies himself in tho neit four lec- 
tures, grouping the objections which he discuss- 
es under three heads — as involving first, tbc 
relations of causation to free a^encj; ; secondly, 
those of universal law to providential agency ; 
and thirdly, those of intellectual to moral and 
religious action. These are all discussedat great 
length, and with much acutencss and force. In 
the MKth and seventh lectures, ' the perman- 
ence of Christianity' is 'inferred' from the 
character of its influence, first on individuals 
and on society at large, in the tiLnes of primi- 
tive Christianity; next, during the collapse of 
the empire; and then on European dvilization 
and morals from the flflb to the fourteenth 
centuries ; and that, too, notwithstanding the 
growth of sacerdotalism and corruption. This 
part of the subject is closed by an estimate of 
the testimony to the permanence of Christian- 
ity afforded by the Reformation, proving as it 
did ' the inherent vigour of a religion whicn thus 
in the course of ages could purify itself like 
running water from the errors and defilements 
of the past.' In the last lectiu-e the ai^ument 
for the permanence of Christianity is baaed on 
' its missionary character and present standing.' 
Some remarks made incidentally in the course of 
this lecture are not without significance as 
made by a Bampton lecturer, addressing the 
University of Oxford : — ' The usefulness of 
Establishments and of National Churches in 
preserving a just liberty of belief against sec- 
tarian or unsectarian tyranny ; as also in com- 
bating so formidable an opponent as *' the 
close phalanx of Rome," may be too readily 
forgotten. On the other hand there is good 
reason to augur from the intrinsically spiritual 
character of our religion, that it would, under 
the most voluntary system, be found the most 
readily to Sourish. But in any case the true 
interests of Christianity are independent of the 
secularization of politics.' 



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m 



Contenip&raiy I,iterat\tre. 



Situalumia itt T^eatmeat of the DitintWord. 

By A Mbkber or tbb Rknbbal Council of 

THB Unitbhsitt of GDiNBURon. Hodderaad 

Stoughtoa. 

This book is anon jDious, but we are inclined 
to think it would have been better if the author 
had given us his name, either instead of, or in 
connecb'on with, the descriptive title he has 
preferred to use. From the preface we infer 
that he is a Congregational minister, for he 
lolls us that his pages 'contain the substance 
of an address delivered before one of our 
County Associations.' The work is a Email 
yolumo of 160 pages, crown 8to, ^ood type. 
We mention this because, being wilhout any 
table of contents, or any very marked sectional 
divisions, it might otherwise have a deterrent 
appeonuice. We learn from a short prefatory 
Statement that the author proposes 'toexamine 
the cardinal and prominent doctrines of the 
Rituali.stic or extreme High Chiirch party of 
to-day.' 'These doctrines,' he adds, 'maybe 
conveniently comprehended under the heads : 
The Word ; Tbe Atoseuent and Mbdiatob- 
BBiF OF Chbist; The Crubch. The first part 
of this examination is here published ; the rest, 
it is hoped, will he ready shortly.' This Srst 
part consists of an introduction, containing 
several interesting historical touches ; and one 
chapter in three sectiona, entitled respectively : 
' The Ritualist denies the self- evidencing power 
of the Divine Word ;' ' The Ritualist disallows 
the sufficiency of the Scriptures as a rule of 
faith.' ' The Hitualist denies to us the right of 
private judgment in matters of religion.' What 
we may regard as the remaining two unprinttd 
chapters, wilt take up, we suppose, ' The Atene- 
tnent,' and ' The Church.'' The instalment be- 
fore US indicates, and is the result of, extensive 
reading, great industry, and much thought 



The little book is full of matter. It 
in the course of its argument, on a variety of 
subjects, handles them with ability, and bnnga 
to hear in tbeb- illustration considerable learn- 
ing. Here and there it sparkles with a pointed 
and easy remark, a telling anecdote, or an apt 
criticism ; but in general the style is somewhat 
deficient in vivacity. The author issoserious- 
ly intent on the substance of his work that he 
requires a reader who will be so too. Few 
such, we think, will close the Imok without 
some accession to their knowledge, and some 
deepening of their convictions in relation to ttie 
authority of the 'Divine Word.' The book 
closes with an appendix of three or four notes, 
the most important of which is one containing 
quotations from a number of the ' Fathers,' 
giving their ' testimony ta tbe suffidency of 
Scripture and the right of private judgment.' 
77m; Past/>ral Care ; or, Fraetkal ffinli on the 
Cvnttitulionf Hiteipline, niid Sfrriees of 
CongregalimuA Chvrehc* and the narUiut 
iranchei of Miniiterial duly in r^ferenee to 
the tame. By Samuel McAi.l, Principal of 
Hiickney College. Hamilton, Adams, and 
Co. 

This is an admirable manual of pastoral the- 
ology condensed into a series ofprnclical hints; 
which theological students and young roiniHtei's 



Jan. 

of Congregational churches would read with ad- 
vantage to themselves and to (he churches over 
which they,are called to preside. The advice is 
Judicious and free from crotchets. If somewhat 
conservative of customs whicli tiave an ancient 
lineage, Mr. McAll is careful to base all his con- 
elusions on Scriptural precedent The topics 
discussed are very numerous, but they are well 
chosen and clearly classified. 

The Structure of the Old Tatament : A Striet 
of Popular Euays. By the Rev. Stanlet 
Leatbes, H.A., Professor of Hebrew, King's 
College, London. Hodder and Stoughton. 
This is a little volume of great excellence, as 
a popular vindication of the truth and inspira- 
tion of the Old Testament Itsdeiiign is to trace 
'the pedigree' of its different books, and in 
show tlieir unity. This is done with great clear- 
ness, accuracy, and force of argument On 
ground that cannot he questioned the antiquity 
of the various books is maintained, whilst their 
unity is shown by tlieir uniform recognition of 
the Mosaic law, and by the spirit and tone by 
which they are pervaded. Nothing, indeed, like 
the unity of the Old Testament Scriptures is 
found in the literature of the world. That of 
Greece and Rome is so destitute of oneness of 
sentiment and purpose that, compared with the 
Hebrew Scriptures, Professor Leathes pro- 
nounces il little better than 'a helerogcneouB 
medley.' From first to last tlie Old Testament 
is knit together by an all-pervading unity. 
' Throughout the development of the history, 
which \i necessarily the growth of ages, there 
is the gradual unfolding of a plan, to which 
every writer, unconsciously and in spite of him- 
self, contributes Romcthing.' 

ProfesHor Leathes classifies all the books of 
the Old Testament under four heads, or divi- 
sions—the historical, prophetical, poetical, and 
legal. Ezra he regards as the centre of the )iis- 
torical division, because his name is generally 
associated with the arrangement of the canon; 
Hezeklah he assumes as the representative of 
the prophetic era, because his reign was 'the 
Augustan age of Hebrew prophecy ;' Dnvid he 
makes the representative of the poetic divUion', 
because the Psalms, which are always connect- 
ed with his name, are 'the anthology of Scrip- 
ture ;' and Moses, he conceive?, stands as tlie 
head and front of the legal division, because ' lie 
is the corner-stone of the national literature, as 
he is the most prominent figure in tlie national 
history.' Under these heads or divisions it is 
shown that the Jewish history ' is marked with 
the impress of the Divine finger, and over- 
shadowed by the Divine hand, as the incidents 
of no other history can pretend to be ;' that the 
prophetical writings are predictions of the 
future, and refer to tbe destiny of the world ; 
tliat Hebrew poetry, especially the Psalms, pos- 
sesses an abiding power and charm to which 
classical hymns and odes can lay no claim ; and 
that in their organic unity the Old Testament 
Scriptures 'stand pre-eminent and unique.' 

Professor Leathes has done well to give this 
volume to tlie public, the contents of which 
were originally intended for oral delivery as lec- 
tures. It has our hearty commendation. 



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1874. 

The Win-ii of the New Tatament at Alterxd 
hy Trarnmiaioa and Atetrtained by Modern 
Critieum for Popular U*e. Bj Rev. Wil- 
LTAK MiLLioAS, D.D., pTofessor of Divinity, 
Aberdeen, and Rev. Alii Roberts, D.D., 
ProfeBBOr of HuniBnity, Aberdt^n. J. and 
T. Clark. 

The first port of this work is written by Dr. 
Roberts, and presents in a very lucid manner 
the causes, nature, and amount of various read- 
ings in the New Testament, and reviews the 
often recited story of the existing MSS. of the 
New Testament Interesting information is 
given with reference to tliose ancient versions 
and.quotatinns which may be u.ied in deciding 
tlie value of the codices at our dispatal. The 
second part of the work i* an endeavour to re- 
real tlie process of classifying the abundant ma- 
terial which is nowavailablefordeterniining the 
true text No hesitation is feltliere by Dr. Mil- 
ligan in assij^ing the first place to the MSS. ; a 
second and third place to versions and quota- 
tions. 'The instances must be rare indeed . . 
, . . when we draw a reading from any source 
than a Greek mnniiscripL' In a succinct and 
telling manner Dr. Milligan has indicated the 
kind of use to wliich the ancient versions and 
quotations may be put in assisting our confi- 
dence in tbe most ancient USS.. and also in dis- 
criminating between them and the much larger 
number of the more modem cursives. The 
writers of this instructive volume have stated 
in the third part of the work, which is their 
Joint production, the changes to be made in the 
tex/ut reeeptui^ and how these will afiect the 
Engli.'^h translation. The book will be singu- 
larly interesting to those who have no access to 
more cumbrous and recondite sources of infor- 
mation. Although they are careful to state their 
personal responsibility, yet, as these authors 
are sitting on the 'Revision Committee,' they 
may to some extent indicate the conclusions 
with reference to the more important texts which 
that learned body will be found to maintain. 
Problem* of Life and Mind. By GEonns 
IIenrv Lbwes. First Series. Tbe Founda- 
tions of a Creed. Vol. I. TrQbner and Co. 
'All the facts of cortscinusncss, all the mar- 
vels of thought remain, whatever changes may 
lake place in our theories regarding them.' 
There is a sense in which this— which is Mr. 
Lewes' answer to those who deprecate the de- 
nial of the existence of the human spirit — is 
true; and there is a sense in which it is utterly 
false. Those who are able to detect where the 
fallacy lies will have gone far to discriminate be- 
tween the good and evil of this latest production 
of Mr. Lcwca'pen. It is true that the facts of our 
spiritual nature.i are not directly fatsiflcd by the 
moKt erroneous theory regarding them. What- 
ever explanation we may offer of their origin 
and nature, they remain confronting us with 
their own light and the revelation which that 
contains. Nevertheless, the perpetuation and 
extension of any particular theory rcgardingcon- 
Bciousnees, must powerfully modify and alter it 
Who does not see that the consciousness, or 
general sum of thoughts and conceptions of the 
present age must have been very different Irom 



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what it is, if, for example, previous generations 
had believed mind to have been a mere form of 
life, and thought only a function of the brain t 
The characters of peoples and nations have so 
largely depended upon their theories regarding 
origin and destiny, that profound philosophers 
have, on good grounds, declared the separation 
of peoples into distinct nations, the result of 
their religidn, or of their ideas regarding God 
and the soul. All history belies the assertion 
that mental results »ro indifferent to theories. 
These are the very conditions that make the re- 
sults what they become. And Mr. Lewes is 
false to his own fundamental principle, which 
finds that every effect is but the explication of 
the sum of its conditions, when he formulates 
such a view. The fact that he is so in this par- 
ticular instance, illustrates the character of his 
general procedure. It is the object of Hr. Lewes, 
in the work of which we have here the first vol- 
ume, to lay the foundations of a new philosophy 
and a new theology. By indicating the princi- 
ples on which he deems It possible to transform 
metaphysics fWim a series of speculative guesses, 
into a doctrine that ' may serve to condense our 
knowledge, guide our researches, and shape our 
lives, BO that conduct really may be the consc- 
<^nence of belief,' he hopes to lay the ' founda- 
tions of a creed.' By investigating by the me- 
thod of science the metaphysical problems 
hitherto found insoluble bcwiuse men persisted 
in employing the ' metaphysical method,' he will 
introduce certainty where before there was 
nothing but instability and confusion. He will 
examine the results of thought and emotion in 
the light and by the tests of experience, and will 
throw aside all that cannot be reduced to those 
tests. The field of experience to be examined 
is not that of the individual alone, but of the 
race, and we must seek explanations of the mys- 
teries unresolved by individual experiences by 
an appeal to that of the human family. Mela- 
physics will be thus reduced to experience, and 
the fundamental conceptions of the individual 
mind as well as the 'uUimate generalizations of 
research,' which are the results of human effort 
in the post and present, are included in its wide 
domain. We must examine the results of 
thought and feeling, not by mere introspection, 
but as we find them in the varied relations of 
men. For man is pow^fUlly modified by what 
Mr. Lewes calls the ' social organism,' which 
yields as its fruits tbe institutions, literatures, 
arts, sciences, philosophies, and religions that 
have potently affected both the individual and 
the race. We have no quarrel with Mr. Lewes 
in seeking truth in these regions. He has indi- 
cated a valuable sphere of inquiry. And we 
have' no objection to his resort to experience as 
the ultimate test — if wo take the term in its 
widest sense, and are not asked arbitrarily to 
limit the range and reach of that feeling which 
is the ultimate of experience. But we have a 
right to demand of Mr. Lewes, and of all who 
come to us with the like arrogant and lofty 
claims, to substitute a new philosophy for all 
previous systems, and to give us a new religion 
that wili supersede the ' preposterous ' theology 
and religion of the present, that they shall not 
ignore parts of wlutt they profess to explain. 



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150 

We expect tliem to be consistent in oppljing 
their on' n canons of certitude and principles of 
, research. We ask them to refuse and nject 
principles of explanation that do not, and tliat 
never cnn, exhflust the reality. And n-e require 
of them that the.v should not changu tho nature 
of what thef profess to explain hy eliminating 
tho most important element-s of the problems 
that present thernselve& These requirements 
and expectalions will he all fonnd equally vain 
in the case of Mr. Leires,.sD far as his first vol- 
ume enables us to ju(^ (if the issue of his In- 
vestigations. In dealing with the soninl organ- 
ism — which we select because his treatment of 
tilts portion of his subject seems to us the most 
valuable of the whole — lie ignores the formative 
and constitutive infiuenccs of tho theories lliat 
have made that what it has become. Xlic social 
organism, as the outcome of what man has been 
and done in the past, ns the issue that is of the 
human 'evolution,' is what we see it, largely 
because of certain theories held in llie past re- 
garding ultimate facts. The theories are thus 
part and parcel of the facts we now liave to con. 
bider. Without the one we should not have had 
the otiier. What i-eliance can be placed 
mode of procedure which professes to account 
for all the facts and begins by excluding those 
which are certainty not the least important F 
Mr. Lewe.s distinguishes between what he terms 
the 'metempirical ' elements In our ultimate 
general illations and those that can be tested by 
experience. Tho former are declared to be' im- 
knownble, and therefore must be separated ftud 
laid aside. All that remains will either bo re- 
solved into the experience of the individual or of 
the race. Therefore the remnant will supply 
the material for a philosophy attainable on the 
' method of science.' We shall thus be able to 
classify the elements of our knonlcttgc, and 
plain the origin and results of those highest c 
ccptions with which metaphysics has hitherto 
dealt, but of which it could not make eft'ective 
use, because it allowed tlie ' metempirical ' ele- 
ments in them to remain. 

It will now be understood that tho work be- 
fore us is an application of the doctrine of evo- 
lution to tho laws and facts of the human mind, 
as these are found in both individual and social 
BKperience. Evolution, indeed, is pronounced 
an hypothesis, and nota demonstrated scientific 
doctrine ; but Mr. Lewes nevertheless treats it 
as tho latter, and as adequate to explain the 
facts of history and life, lie abides by the 
principles of the ' positive philosophy 'of Comle, 
only he applies then to classes of phenomena 
which Comte refused to deal with, lie has not 
thereby altered the nature though he m.iy have 
extended the range of that philosophy. Our 
objection to his procedure is not that he has 
applied tho ' scientific metliod ' to metaphysics, 
but that he is arbitrary in his application of it. 
lie tells us to rely upon experience, but he blots 
out a. large portion of its domain. He appeals 
to intuition in feeling, but refuses to allow any 
validity to the certainty of intuition in thought. 
Yet he cannot himself make priigiess without 
constantly appealing to the latter. He refuses 
to ctamino the theories that have largely made 
the sociul organism what it i.t, though he pro- 



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Jar. 



fosses to explain its whole range. The funda- 
mental problems of philosophy and theology 
arc really thrown aside, and a reconciliation is 
sought between religion and science by the de- 
sti'uction of religion, just as it is hoped to recon- 
cile metaphysics and science by abolishing meta- 
physics. The book is therefore a failure. Ithas 
not done what it undertook to do, and it would 
nothcdilBcult to prove that what it undertakes 
to do is impossible on the conditions that are 
alone allowed to he legitimate. Philosophy and 
thcol<^y cannot spring from such roots as Mr. 
Lewes will alone plant ; and the • Creed ' built 
on the 'foundations' be has laid cou'd never 
supply any aliment to faith, though Mr. Lewes 
docs not hesatato to promise a faith and a re- 



Scarcety any expressions that we can employ 
would exa^crate our sense of the moral and 
theological value of Mr. Murphy's book, 
although we aro unable to accept some of Its 
conclusions. It is, in the first place, a model 
of what controversial discussion should he, uni- 
formly calm, courteous, and cautious. Xr. 
Murphy writes with a fulness of knowledge that 
commands respect for what he says, and with 
a feeling of religious reverence, which, whilo it 
does not limit his fi-eedom of inquiry, preserves 
him from all unseemly levity or scorn. H a 
hook contains the results of the thinking of a 
lITetime, and is a masterly and unanswerable 
demonstration of the true scientific basis of the 
fundamental dogmas of the Christian revelation. 
As wo have said, there are some points upon 
wiiicli we cannot accept Mr. Murphy's dogmatic 
affirmations ; as, for example, that there is no 
history older than Abraham, that 'there is no 
ground whatever forsupposingtliat tho writings 
of a prophet or an apostle are more inspired or 
of higher authority than his spoken words.' 
Nor can wo receive his mere ethical representa- 
tion of 'justification by faith ' as the conception 
of either the Christian apostles or the Christian 
Church. But these are exterior to his main 
argument. At tho same time, we quite agree 
with him that there is no general theory to be 
maintained on the subject of the authority of 
Scripture. No such theory concerning tho 
canonical collection is affirmed in it. 'I'lie or- 
dinary principles of evidence are to be npplled 
to each separate book. Only these principles 
include moral and corroborative evidence as well 
as grammatical andscientiHc evidence. OurKc- 
ncriil reci^niiion of tho inspiration of the Scrip- 
tures is higher than his, although we agree in 
his repudiation of what he means ' by plenary 
inspiration,' lietter understood as ' verbal in- 
spiration.' Tho principle of his conclusion on 
this point is also ours, ' that the inspiration of 
the Scriptures is real though undefined.' Whe- 
ther the recognition of supernatural iui^piration 
is to bo so much limited within the Bible, orto 
be so much extended without it, must be deter- 
mined, not by general theories, but by special 

Mr. Hurphy repudiates all attempts to bar- 
ionize the words of Scripture with the facts of 



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I8M. 

science. Science, }ie thinks, is absolutely indo- 
pcndunt of interpretations or tlicologj. 'J'liat 
tlio purpose an J ciiaractcr of the Bible arc theo- 
logical and religious, and not scientific, must be 
admitted ; and we do not see how the sacred 
writers could do other than express their re- 
ligious ideas according to the KcientiRc concep- 
tions or their da;. The historic relations of 
the firat chapter of Genesis to the science of 
geology should warn tis against the insane fears 
which lead some religious people to denounce 
■tdi'nce as iiiiinical to revelation. Science has 
simply proved some theological interpretations 
to be wrong, and if it should prove that the wri- 
ter himself had a wrong scienliGc conception, it 
would not diminish one iota his religious and 
Uieological authority. It is only when we bind 
up theological (ruths with accidental forms (hat 
no put (hem in peril. Mr. Murphy is equally 
unassailable when he says that science cannot 
have a theological basis, and that theology can- 
not have a sclentiflc basis. Scienca must pur- 
sue her investigations unfettered by theology, 
and theology must affirm its great verities un- 
restrained by science. It can be di.'icredltcd by 
science only when it assumes untenable and un- 
authoriEed theories of inspiration. At thosamo 
time, it is a moot point on which side there has 
been tlic most arrogant intolerance — on that of 
theology towards science, or on that of science 
towards theoli^y. And yet, as Mr. Murphy 
contends, true science and true theology will 
ever be approximating, inasmuch as both alike 
lead totiod, who is both the Creator of the 
physical world, and the God of the spiritual 

Mr. Murpliy emphatically claims to include un- 
der the term science ' not physical science only, 
but all those sciences — physical, mental, mora), 
political, and hiiitorical — which disclose the con- 
btituti'iD of tliat universe in which i\'e live, and 
of which we form a p.irt. And when I speak 
of this as forming a IkisIs for religion, I mean a 
logical basis, somewhat in the same way that 
matbcmatics is the logical basis of the dynami- 
cal sdences; or that the Bcienccs of inorganic 
matter collectively foim a basis for the science 
of life. . . . Thus life pi^sup poses matter, 
and is based on it ; mind presupposes uncon- 
scious hfe, and is based on it. So, as I believe, 
the knowledge of the supernatural has its logi- 
cal basis ill the knowledge of natnre.' 

Inasmuch as ' the truths of religion are, as I 
believe, incapable of being discovered by man 
for himself, and have been communicated to 
mankind in an altogether peculiar manner by 
revelation, there is, and must ever be, a contrast 
between science and religion. The contrast 
consists in this, that man finds the facts of 
science for himself, but those of religion are re- 
vealed. But this contrast ought not to imply 
antagonisman^ more than that between the data 
of abstract science, which are self-evident, and 
those of the physical sciences, which have to be 
sought out by patient investigaiion.' What an- 
tagonism there is, Mr. Murphy regards as 
merely an accident of the present time. Upon 
this geneml basis Mr. Murphy constructs the 
various arguments of his book. It is the sad 
tyranny and disability of a limited notice like 



Contemporary Iiilerature. 



V 151 

this, that it is utterly impossible to summarize 
any one of his chapters, much less (o criticise 
it Mr. Murphy's compact and yet tcry lucid 
reasoniog can scarcely be conveyed in fewer 
words than his own. 

Hip Brst chapter treats of oietaphysica land 
positive phtloaopby \ and is an able vindica- 
tion of the former against the limitations upon 
human thinking which Comte and the posilivist 
school would impose. Attempts to expftin th« 
universe are natural and necessary. ConsciouB- 
ness, from which metaphysics begins, is as real 
as observations from which inductive science 
begins. 

In the ncit chapter, on the Metaphysical In- 
terpretation of Nature, Mr. Murphy orgaes that 
' either tlie universe is from cverlaslinpr, or it 
had an absolute beginning in time. Both of 
these alternaUves are inconceivable ; yet one of 
them must be true. Metaphysical reasoning 
will bring us no further. But physical reason- 
ing — inductive science — does bring us further, 
and shows that the alternative of an absolute 
beginning in time is the true one.' The proof 
is, the nebular, or condensation theory, and ' the 
dissipation of energy.' 'The laws of nature,' as 
John Stuart Mill says, 'cannot account for their 
own ori^n.' Physical science combines with 
metaphysics to resolve our conception of mat- 
ter into force, force can be conceived of only as 
spiritual, so that matter is simply a nianiresta- 
tion of spiritual force. The mind is part of tlio 
same universe ' Mental action differs from 
physical only as the conscious manifestations of 
force differ from the unconscious manifestations 
of the same.' ' The powers of matter and mind 
alike are the result and ejEpreiision of a living 
will, and if a livingwitl, then also an intelligent 
will, and if an intelligent will, the^ also a holy 
will.' 

Next, the theory of the moral sense is dis- 
cussed, and the utilitarian and the ethical theo- 
ries of morals disproved. A chapter on the 
Freedom of the Will follows, and because the 
sense of guilt attaches to sinful voluntary ac- 
tion, it is maintained to be a reality. In the 
chapter on the Bases of Knowledge, faith, in its 
essence, is affirmed to bo common to both 
science and revelation— that is, (he most cha- 
racteristic truths of science are known by 
thought only, and could not conceivably be ob- 
jects of perception. Belief in the past — i.e., 
trust in the reality ofmemory, in personal iden- 
tity, in the testimony of consciousness, in (bo 
uniformity of the order of nature, and in all ex- 
istences external to us is metaphysical, and of 
the nature of faith — neither asBodatinns oridcaf, 
nor experience can account for it Such beliefs 
do not justify themselves, they may be ima- 
gined untrue, they are not absolute, only pre- 
ponderant, and consequently unveritiable ; and 
yet on them the verttieation of everything in 
science and ordinary hfe depend.'*. Science and 
faith are equally ' the proof of things unseen, 
things past, things future, things absent, and 
things invisible though present' Consistent 
scepticism consequently is impossible. In this 
way Mr. Murphy applies a severely scientific 
method to the questions of Faith and its Possi- 
bility ; the Limits of our Knowledge ; the PoB- 



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Contemporary/ Ziterature. 



152 

Ribilit^ and Proof or a Divine Eevektion; tba 
Function of Autlioritj in Religion ; JustiBcaUon 
by Failh ; the Proofs of Deily from Power, In- 
telligence, Design, and Conscience ; the Struc- 
ture of the Universe ; the Divine purpose of 
Creation ; Original Sin ; Nature and the Reli- 
gioua Sense ; Immortajity ; Nature and Grace ; 
Legal and Evangelical Religion ; the Relation of 
History to Religion ; the Distinctive Doctrines 
of Chnatianity ; Paul and John on the Parson 
of Christ; the Christian Doctrine of a Future 
Life; the Christian Doctrine of a Final Gene- 
ral Restoration. Every chapter is rich in ma- 
terials for comment, soma for adverse criticism. 
Mr. Murphy's doctrine, or rather denial of the 
Fall, for instance, as also of expiation as distin- 
guished from reconciliation, and his eschato- 
]ogy ; Mr. Murphy's general theological position 
being similar to that of Thomas Erakine, of 
Lin lath en. 

But as a whole the book is a noble monument 
of strong, clear, and patient thinking, and a 
thesaurus of weapons for those who have to de- 
fend Christian ideas against the assaults of 
materialistic or speculative infidelity. It shows 
the possibility of vindicating Christian beliefs 
on purely scientiGc grounds. Partly Mr. Mur- 
phy ocL-upies the position of Butler, and sets up 
a negative defence of Christianity, derived from 
the analogy of Nature. But he traverses a 
much wider field tlian Butler, and takes strong 
and unassailable positive positions. It is re- 
freshing in these days of sciolism and arrogance 
on all sides of great questions, to come upon 
the work of a calm courteous thinker, from the 
perusal of which one rises feeling that the fun- 
damental truths of Christianity are rooted in 
the essential nature and eternal orderof things; 
and that becteatii the dust and smoke which 
ConfUse special points there are deep and eter- 
nal foundations that no conflicts can disturb, 
and that as hitherto these will gradually be re- 
vealed to both intelligence and faith; for 'the 
Word of the Lord abideth for ever.' 

The Creed of ChruUnd^m : it» Foundation 
amtratted wUh it* Svpentrvctun. By 
WiLLiAK Rathbonb Greo. Third Edition. 
With New Introduction, Two vols. Trub- 
ner & Co. 

Mr. Or^s new introduction extends to 
ninety pages. It is in part a criticism of works 
whicli have appeared since the publication of 
the first edition in 1S30 ; viz.. Bishop Colen- 
bo's ' Inquiry into the Pentateuch,' ' Ecco Ho- 
mo,' Ronan's 'Vie dc J6sus,' and his Apostolic 
volumes, ' Tho Jesus of History,' by Sir H. D. 
Hanson, and Mr. Arnold's 'Literature and 
Dogma ; ' and is intended to show how these 
works illustrate Mr. Greg's main position, that 
the New Testament records of Jesus do not 
justify tho dogmatic superstructure that has 
been raised upon them. 

Chiefly, however, the new introduction 
further discussion of the main thesis of the 
book, and gives an answer to the question, ' fs 
a Christian life possible T' Mr. Greg's answer 
is, ' yes,' if we regard the spirit of our Lord's 
religious system ; but 'no,' if we are to accept 
the dogmatic forms of it recorded in the New 



Jan. 



Testament The particulars he instances ore 
(1) the precepts commanding non-resistance 
and submission to violence, which he thinks too 
explicit to be evaded, and too pernicious to be 
acted upon. (2) Almsgiving as distinctly and 
variously enjoined by our Lord, which he 
thinks opposed to tho commonweal. (3) Im- 
providence, which he tbink>) enjoined in tho 
Sermon on the Mount and elsewhere, (4) The 
denunciations of wealth, or the assertions of 
nunism, which are so frequent in the New 
TestamenL All these, he thinks, are not prac- 
ticable in these days, and would be decidedly 
noxious, and ore, therefore, obviously wrong, 
Mr. Greg has really furnished a sufficient 
answer to his own objections. (1) He tells us 
that 'Jesus put an abstract principle in a para- 
ble or a concrete shape.' He spoke as an Orien- 
tal to Orientals — roundly, tropically, and in 
apothegms. It does not follow, however, that 
' probably he never reflected on the danger of 
creating a whole tribe of begging impostors.' 
The entire conception of our Lord's intellectual 
character makes it difficult to imagine that his 
penetration would miss any danger so obvious. 
(3) Mr. Greg culls his passages, and forgets to 
qualify and interpret them by other passaECS, 
wliich, with equal emphasis, affirm the oUier 
side — e.g., 'If a man will not work, neither 
shall he eat' ' If any provide not for his own, 
and, specially for those of his own bouse, he 
hath denied the faith, and is worse than an in- 
fidel.' ' Let him that stole steal no more ; but 
rather let him labour, working with bis hands 
tho thing which is good tliat he may have to 
give iiim that needeth.' The later New Testa- 
ment writers cannot be imagined as contradict- 
ing in so glaring a way the teachings of the 
earlier. The occidental communism mentioned 
in the Acts is surely a strong disproof of the 
alleged obligation and universal practice. Was 
it not a simple irregular impulse of noble feel- 
ing, a mere bubble in the stream, neither rwog- 
nised nor intended as a law of life f (3) It has 
never been questioned, that we are aware, that 
our own practical application of Christ's teach- 
ing is to be that of its spirit, not of its letter. 
He would be simply insane who foi^t the dif- 
ference between the life of Palestine in our 
Lord's time, and English life in our own. No 
fidelity to the spirit of the teaching demands the 
adoption of its forms. Mr. Greg claims to vin- 
dicate the Spirit of Christ from the dogmas that 
have gathered around it To a large degree all 
reasonable men are with him ; the only ques- 
tion is one of d^:ree. A Christianity without 
dogma is as impossible aa it is absurd. The 
question is, What is true Christian di^ma, and 
what is its place in relation to Christian life ? 
Mr. Greg errs as much in his negations aa 
those whom be opposes do in their excesses. 
Most rational Christians feci no practical diffi- 
culty in applying the great teachings of it to 
modem life ; such difficulties are felt only by 
men like Mr. Greg, who attach to the latter an 
individual critical importance. The progress of 
criticism is rendering Mr. Greg's position in- 
creasingly untenable. Tt is critically impossible 
to accept Mr. Greg's Christ, and to reject the 
New Testament literature which embodies him. 



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133 



Mr. Gr^ contends for nn unhistorical simuU- 
crura, which is u intangible asit is un verifiable. 

Orthodox Ltmdon ; or, Pha»e» of Etliffioui Life 
in the Church of England. By the AuUior 
of ' Unorthodox London.' Tinsley Brothers. 
The author of these clever and amusing 
alietches jntimatefi that his subject 'precludes 
the variety of " Unorthodox London." ' But 
this is bj no means certain. This must be one 
of those propitiatory sentence* which will drop 
almost median icftily from the most unconven- 
tional pen. Surely within the circle of Estab- 
lished Church varieties, included in this volume, 
there are contrasts almost as great as between 
the Lntter Day Saints and Mr. Spui^on. Mr. 
Hi^ire, Ur. Stopford Brooke, Canon Liddon, 
Mr. Haweis, and Mr. Orby Shipley have not 
much in common. It would be difficult to In- 
stance antagonisms so great within the Noncon- 
forming circle of life without the Church. The 
only common elements are theistic recognition, 
and raembersbip in the National Establishment. 
The sketches are descriptive and not critical. 
Dr. Davies has a keen eye and wields a smart 
and caustic pen. As indicating the variety of 
bis volume, we may say that he describes ser- 
vices by Mr. Haweis, at Bt James's Chapel ; 
Father Stanton, at St. Alban's ; Mr. Forrest, at 
South Kensington; Mr. Llewellyn Davies, at 
Marylebone ; Lenten Exercises at various Ri- 
tual churches; Mr. Mt^ulre, at Clerkenwell; 
Dean Stanley, at Westminster Abbey ; Canon 
Liddon at St. Paul's; Mr. Reeves, at Portman 
Chapel; Mr. Btopford Brooke, on Byron's 
'Cain;' Father Igontlua, at the Hall of Science; 
Missions; Midnight Masses; Watch Nights; the 
Primate's Ordination ; Convoration ; Bishop 
Wilberforco'a Burial, ic The sketches are 
brilliant and witty, often caustic, although they 
never offend gentlemanly and churchly proprie- 
ties. The author has a hearty contempt for 
shams, and apparently as hearty a sympathy 
with any form of genuine goodness and earnest- 
ness. His book is in some very grave sense; 
instructive; it might point some tcrriblenorals. 
It is always entertaining — the synopsis of ser- 
mons, of course, excepted, which, however, 
may be skipped. 

Critical and Eiegetieal Commentary on the 
Neie Tettament. By II. A, W. Meter, Th.D, 
From the Geman. The Translation Revised, 
and Edited, with the sanction of the Author, 
by the Rev. William P. Dickson, D.D„ 
Professor of Divinity in the University of. 

Part rV. ' The EputU tx> the Romant. Tol. L 
Translated hom the Fifth F.dition of the 
Original. By the Rev. John C. Mooue, B.A., 
Hamburg. Edinburgh: T, and T. Clark, 
Pari VIT. The Epistle to the Oalatiam. 
Translated from the Fifth Edition of the 
Original. Dy G. H. Tenables. Edinburgh: 
T. and T. Clark. 

To most of our readers Dr. Meyer's great 
work will need no introduction. His name and 
much of the substance of his commentary have 
long been familiar to the English public. The 
most eminent commentators of our own country 



have freely acknowledged their obligations to 
the German ezegete, and have bome testimony 
to hid minute accuracy, his tact and scholarship, 
bis patient and unwearied research, his inde- 
pendence and love of truth. Perhaps no moro 
valuable gift could be offered to the Biblical 
students amongst us than the English transla' 
tion undertaken by Heasrs. Clark, the first in- ' 
stalmont of which is now before us. The ven- 
erable author was not permitted to witness the 
reception given to his work in this land. The 
special preface which ho wrote in March last 
for the English edition was, as we here team, 
the last production of his pen. He died at 
Hanover on the 21st of June, in the seventy- 
fourth year of hia age. The commentary had 
been the labour of his life. The first edIUon of 
the first volume, spoken of by the author him- 
self as 'the weak commencement,' appeared in 
January, 1832 ; the forty years which followed 
were almost entirely devoted to the reading 
and study required for the continual improve- 
ment of the work, A new edition with him 
was (as many scholars have found to their cost) 
in no small degree a new work, so large was 
the amount of additional matter introduced. 
Whatever German toil and learning supplied 
from year to year, whether in systematic trea- 
tise or in academic ' programme,' if only the 
subject had any connection with the exegesis of 
the New Testament, Meyer carefully examined 
and made his own. The English editor places 
side by side a passage from the fourth edition 
of the Commentary on the Romans (ISfiQ), and 
the corresponding passage as prepared for the 
liah edition (18T2); the additional matter 
amounts to more than one-third of Ihe original 
passage ; and this in an example taken at 
hazard. In a course extending over more than 
forty years there cannot but be much change of 
opinion, if the mind is really open to the recep- 
tion of truth. In Meyer's case, the change was 
almost uniformly in one direction. Every 
student of his sucoefsive editions will endorse 
Professor Dickson's statement, that 'the longer 
Dr. Meyer prosecuted the study of Scripture 
from his own standpoint, the closer was the 
approximation of his general results to the con- 
clusions embodied in the great confessions of 
the Protestant Church ; ' and no one has ven- 
tured to say, ' that these issues were reached 
otherwise than by the consistent and consden- 
tions application of his ezegetical principles.' 

The translation of such a work as Meyer's is 
a very arduous task ; but without a guarantee 
that the translation is accurate, that Meyer's 
commentary is really before him, the English 
reader may well shrink from encountering the 
labour of mastering the work. To read a diffi- 
cult book translated lYvm another language, 
haunted by the constant suspicion that the ren- 
dering is not exact, is of aJI tasks most dis- 
heartening. Messrs. Clark have acted wisely 
in committing the whole responsibility of the 
work to one editor. Professor Dickson, of the 
University of Glasgow. The book could not be 
in better hands ; Dr. Dickson's reputation as a 
Biblical scholar, and also as the translator of 
Mommsen's 'History of Rome,' is a pledge of 
the substantial excellence of the translation, 



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154 

which hns been revised by liim througiiout. 
The result of tlie cotnliined labours of transla- 
tors and editor h that the English reader may- 
feel almost perfect confiJence in the words be- 
fore hiiD, as represents np tho exact sense of the 
involved and intractaljiB German sentences. 
Wo say 'almost,' for, as is natural, some flaws 
have escaped notice. So delicate and dilBcuU 
has been tlio editor's task, that it is a marvel 
to find the blemishes ao slight. Opinions will 
vary as to the style' of the translation — styles, 
we should rather have said, for the two volumes 
are not one in this respect. Tn the Epistle to 
tho Romans there is often evidence of most 
earnest and successful effort after perfect ac- 
curacy ; the translator is unwilling tn, sacrifice 
a tittle of the author's meaning. The transla- 
tor of the other Epistle moves more freely ; 
here and there a German word is sacrificed, 
perhaps unnecessarily, but the sentences have 
a more genuine English ring. We are grateful 
to the editor and tlio translators for the loyally 
to their author; but wo venture to think that 
by a shght amount of expansion, the interest.-* 
of the English reader would have been served, 
without any sacrifice of futhfulness either to 
tlie form or to the spirit of the original.* 

There is little in these volumes from the 
editor's own hand. An interesting preface and a 
very valuable listofexegetical works on the (wo 
Epistles are all that he has given us. Mwiy 
will wish that he had exercised less self-re- 
straint, but we are convinced that he has acted 
wisely in not appending notes. To have occa- 
sionally intimated dissent would have implied 
acceptance of Meyer's opinions in other cases 
where no note was added. Still there remains 
a difflculty which Professor Dickson does not 
meet. Meyer's peculiar views might bo left 
without special notice if the volumes were 
really destined for the 'professional scholar' 
alone. We trust, however, that they will be 
largely used by younger students ; and, in Ihe 
interests of all who are not professed theolo- 
gians, we venture to ask that the editor will 
give u'', in a future volume of the series, some 
general remarks on Meyer's opinions, some 
general view of his position as a theologian and 
as an exegete. 

In one particular only must we dissent from 
the editor's judgment of Meyer's work. Profes- 
sor Dickson speaks of Meyer's notes on points 
of textual criticism as 'especially valuable for 
the concise explanations which they give of the 
probable origin of the various readings.' We 
c.innot but think that the one weak point of 
Meyer's work is the textual criticism. In very 



Contemporary LUei-ature. 



Jan. 



* e.g. Sietlung is not 'construction ' (liomnn», 
p. 33). The senM nf the last line in the critical 
note on Kom. i. 24 (p. 30) and of the seotencfl 
referrliiK to Bejia(p. il) is not correctly given. 
The renderinjtB' dispute ' and 'process' (p, 143) 
obscure Meyer's meanioR. The force of ittrde/i 

to seem incoosistent with himself. Welt is 
unwarrantably rendered, in tlie same sen- 
tence, ' world ' and ' univerae ' (p. 174). The 
incorrect translation ' had fallen ' (OaUttian*, 
p. 12) is in conflict with the 
(p. 21). 



many instances, of coui-se, bis text agrees with 
titose of Tischendorf, Tregelles, and others ; but 
in other places he not unfrequently bases his 
dedsion on principles which would introduce 
utter confusion into the criticism of the text of 
the Greek Testament Nothing is more preca- 
rious than that subjective criticism of which 
Meyer is so fond. Nothing i,s easier to an acute 
mind than to discover ingenious and seductive 
internal evidence in support of any reading 
whatever. To establish our chai^ against 
Meyer would require more space than we have 
at command, but an example or two may be 
given. In Rom. iii. 30, Meyer retains l-cl^cp, 
contrary to the testimony of the best and most 
ancient MSS., on the ground that this word 
occurs in no other passage of the New Tesia- 
ment. In ch. iv. I, Trpojraropa, which is sup- 
ported by still stronger evidence, and which 
besides oceur» here only, is set aside at once 
through some fancied consideration of me.inine. 
Other examples present themselves In Rom. iii. 
20, iv, IB, li). V. 1, Gal. vi. 13. Wecannot be- 
lieve that Professor Dickson himself would 
adopt these readings, or accopt such ovidGnce 
as Meyer often considers sufHcient ; and wb 
therefore strongly wish that, if the editor's plan 
did not permit a detailed statement of the 
readings accepted by other critics, ho had at 
least pointed out, for the sake. of the unlmined 
reader, the precariousncss of some of Meyer's 
principles of textual criticism. The acknow- 
ledged and supreme excellence of the exegesis 
renders it more necessary to remark on such a 
peculiarity as this. 

In point of Biae, typography, and general 
convenience, theso volumes are all that can be 
desired. There arc a few misprints (for example, 
tho Hebrew words on p. 1 of the volume on 
Romans), but apparently very few. ^Ve trust 
that the enterprise of Ihe publishers and the 
labours of tlie editor will receive their reward 
in a hearty reception of tho work on the part of 
English readers. 

The Holy Bible, aeeordiay to the AvthorUed 
Vertion (1611), leilh an Explanatory and 
Critical Vommcnlary, and a Jletision of the 
Trantlalion hy ISiahopi and other Clergy qf 
the Anglican Chvreh. Vol. !V. Job — 
Psalms — Prgverbs — Ecclesio'^tes — the Song 
of Solomon. Edited by F. C. Cook, M.A., 
Canon of Exeter. John Murray. 
This gi'eat work proceeds with admirable 
regularity, and promises to become one of the 
most valuable and reliable commenlaries on 
Holy Scripture. The effect of recent criticism 
has not been to induce the authors of tho 
present volume to sympathise more expressly 
with the fashionable revfrsals of every tradi- 
tional opinion as to the dale or authorship of 
the Hagiographa. On the contrary, we think 
there are manifest signs of a more conservative 
handling of tho sacred bookH. The Davidic 
origin of a majonty of the Psalrns. the authenti- 
city and Solomonic authorship of the Hook of 
Proverbs, Eccle>iastcs, and canticle.s, and the 



have been exerted upon it by Babylonian c 



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1B74. 

Persinn dualism or angelology, are sevemllj 
maintained. The writers lay great emphasLs 
on the iramenso importance to be ascribed lo 
tlio silence concerninf; the J[osaic litual and the 
fortunes of the tlieocracy bj which the books 
of Job, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes are charic- 
terizt'd, revealing the wide and direct applica- 
bility 10 man as man of this large portion of the 
Hebrew canon. The integrity of Job and Ecclo- 
siastos is sustained nith well considered argu- 
tnent>i, anil iho vietvs of Uengslenherg, DnviiN 
i^on, and others, touching the iale origin of 
Ecclosiaates, are shown lo bo unreliable. The 
interpretation of the Song of Solomon, which 
has been so powerfully urged by Ginsberg and 
other?, viz,, that wc have in this inimitable 
pocni a representation of the ^triumph of chaste 
love over the seductions of the C'>urt of the 
king is repudiated, and the expositions of the 
various portions of tho Song are made to con- 
fimi the supposition that Solomon is the oViject 
of (he bride'H passionate lore. Wc are not nl- 
together entisfied with tho introduction to the 
Psalms. The Biblical theology of tho Psalms 
U hardly attempted, and no enort is made to 
deal adequately either with the imprecatory 
Psalms or the Messianic Psalms. A kxr of 
these wondrous odes are said to be exclusively 
Messianic, and are interpreted on that supposi- 
tion. Traces of belief in the future life are 
patiently examined, and confidently and justly 
asserted. Tho commentary is somewhat un- 
equal, Ihough the whole is suffused with a 
beauliriil, reverentinl, and candid spirit. Wc 
hope before long to return at length to the 
general merits of this commentary as a whole. 

Bib/ifi'l Comment^ri/ on the Old Teitament. 

By C. F. Keil, I) D.. and F. Delitzsch. D.D. 

The Books of Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther. 

Translated from the German by SopnrA 

Tavlor. T. and T. Clark. 

The 'introduction' to these portions of the 
Old Testament is brief, and, in comparison 
with the recent work of Canon Rawlinson in 
the Speaker's Commentary, scanty. The 
reader expects some general treatment of the 
influence of Per^^ian (bought upon the Hebrew 
and Cbaldcc Chronicles, and some more com- 
prehensive estimate of the work of Ezra in the 
arrangement of tho Biblical records. A vigor- 
ous attempt is made to defend tho intt^ity of 
both Ezra and Kehemiah, and to bring the 

gnealogical tables within tho lifetime of the 
ttcr. The frequently- quoted diEBculties in 
granting unity of authorship to both books 
arc well handled, and reasons given for the de- 
viation in the narrative from the flret to the 
third person. The Book of Esther is freed 
from improbabilities, vindicated from the 
cbar^ of exaggeration, and shown to be com- 
patible with the known character of Xerxes, 
and the record of national religious massacres 
in later times, and with the undoubted celebra- 
tion of tho deliverance of the Jews in tho na- 
tional festival of Purim. The authorship of 
Esther is left UDdet«nnined, and its cauonicity 
is justified. The commentaries on the three 
books display that painstaking, steady care, 
and thorough scholarship and reverence for 



Contemporary I4lerature. 



155 

God's Word which characterize [he work of 
their distinguished authors. 
Popular Olfjernong to Eecealed Truth. -Hod- 
der and Stoughton. 

This new volume of the ' Christian Evidence 
Society ' contains lectures delivered in the 
New Hall of Science, Old-street, Cily-road 
(Mr. Bradlaugh's). It was certainly a bold 
and wise resolution to carry the war into the 
very heart of the infidel camp, and to invite 
the freest discussion and questioning at the 
close of each lecture. It would have been in- 
teresting had reports of tho discussions been 
preserved. Tho audicncen, oft^n numbering a 
thousand, consisted almost entirely of working 
men, and the lecturers of course addressed 
themselves to their modes of thinking. They 
owe. we think, no little of their point and 
power to this necessity. Some of them are 
very able; as a rule, they are not only acute 
hut broad, and denl with great principles rather 
,than with conventional dogmatic expressions 
of them. The lecturers and subjects were — 
Rev. A. J. Harrison, 'Secularism and Atheism;' 
Rev. C. A. Row, M.A., 'Human Responsibili- 
ty;' Rev. John Gritten, 'Christianity nut the 
Invention of Impostors or Credulous Enthusi- 
asts;' B. Harris Cowper, Esq., 'The Facts of 
Christianity Elistorically True;' Rev. G. Hen- 
slow, M.A.. 'Science and Scripture not Anta- 
gonistic;' Rev. J. H. Titcomb, M.A., 'Moral 
Teaching of the Old Testament;' Rev. R. B. 
Girdlestone, M.A., 'The MelaphoricKl Lan- 
guage Applied to God in the Old Testament;' 
J. H. Gladstone, Ph.D., 'Miracles the Creden- 
tials of a Revelation ;' Rev. C. A. Row, ' The 
Historical Evidence of the Resurrection of 
Jesus Christ;' Rev. Dr. AUon, 'The Moral 
Teaching of the New TcsUment;' the Rev. 
Gordon Calthrop, M.A., 'The Gradual Un- 
folding of Revelation ;' the Rev. Canon Barry, 
D.D., 'Perfection of the Human Characberof 
Jesus Christ' 

The Coniervatloit of Moral Force. A Sermon 
preached at the College ChapeL Bradford, 
Sunday Evening. Sept 31, 1873. by the Rev, 
H. Griffith, Bowdon. London : A. Hall 
and Co. ; Liverpool : J. Wookard. . 
Now that we have road this noble sermon 
we are not surprised at what wc have heard 
of the impression which was produced by its 
delivery. It was preached on tho occasion of 
the late meeting of the British .Association 
for the Advancement of Science, and is pub- 
lished at the ' urgent solicitation ' of many of 
the members of the Association who were 
privileged to hear it 'The grand thought %< 
the whole,' is 'an extension to morals of the 
modern doctrine of the eontervation and corre- 
lation, of forces.' We predict for the sermon 
a large circulation, and earnestly hope th&t so 
gifted a preacher as Mr. Griffith will take cour- 
age to follow it up with a volume on kindred 
phases of the truth which he has proved him- 
self BO able to expound and to maintain. 
Daily Devotion* far tho IloutehoU. Being « 
Series of Original Prayers for Every Day in 
the Year, with > Selection of Hymns and 



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Contemporary Literature. 



Jan. 



Passt^ea of Holy Scripture, and Prayers for 
Special Occasions. CaeBell, Petter, and Qal- 

Tho publication of this almost imperial de- 
votionsl volume nimplj indicates the lar^^e de- 
mand that there is for domentic forms of wor- 
Bhip, There must, indeed,^ba teas of thou 
sands of religious families in which there is no 
one qualified lo ofler morning and evening ex- 
temporary prayer with edification, and thou- 
sands more in which the occasional use of pre- 
pared forms will be edifying and a relief. In 
this book a service for every day in the year 
is provided. Each is judiciously short, hymns, 
Smpture, and prayer bdog comprised in a 
single page. The hymns are selected with ad- 
mirable catholicity of feeling and taste, almost 
every type of religious faith and life being re- 

E resented. A large number of the hymns are 
y living h^n writers, and some of them are 
very beautiful. The book would have been 
perfect had a tune in short score been provided 
for each hymn. The prayers, as is necessarily 
the case when contributed by so many per- 
sona, are of varied excellence; some few that 
we have lighted upon are stiff and wordy and 
shallow, but the bulk seem to be simple, de- 
vout, and edifying. Use will soon determine 
their quality, for the delicate appreciation of 
devout feeling is a quick and fine test The 
volume will take its place among the best of its 

Tlu Interpreter; or. Scripture for Family 
Worikip : being Selected Paitage* of the 
Word of God for Every Morning and Seen- 
ing throughout t\« Tear; aeeompamed hy a 
Jtimning Comment and Saitable ffgmnt. 
Arranged and Annotated by G. H. Spuroboh. 
Parts I. to XIJ. Passmore and Alabaster. 
Hr. Spurgeon's plan is as efiTective as it is 
novel. The text of the Bible is given so far 
as is%ecessery to convey the substance of the 
matter treated in it; the rest is epitomized so 
as to link on the difierent parts, or to reduce 
the sections to a practicable length; brief 
comments and indications of meaning are in- 
terwoven, and printed in italics ; different parts 
of the Bible treating of the same matter are 
brought together ; and a couple of hymns are 
appended to each section. Mr. Spurgeon has 
a considerable gift of terse, pointed, practical 
remark. His method gives great interest and 
vividness to the teachings of the Bible ; while 
it subordinates the letter to the spirit it pre- 
serves the int^rity of the whole. 

Seudingt on the Pmlmi. With Notes on their 
Musical Treatment; originally addressed to 
Choristers. By Rev. Ubnbv Hodsman. 
Joseph Masters. 

The idea of this work was suggested to the 
mind of a clergyman of fine musical taste, by 
the obvious need of some practical guide for 
his choristers that should secure an effective, 
devout, and intelligent treatment of the Psalter 
in the Order for Morning and Evening Pray- 
er. We are not ac<;|uainted with any simi- 
lar endeavor to exhibit for this practical pur- 
pose the significADce of the Psalms. An inter- 



esting introdnction not only to the Canonical 
Psalter, but also to the form it assumes in the 
Book of Common Prayer, is followed by brief, 

Sithy comments on the several Psalms. Mr. 
[ousman makes great use of Perowne's Com- 
mentary, and accepts the references adopted 
by that distinguished scholar ; and from prac- 
deal experience suggests the predominant 
emotion characterizing each Psalm and its ap- 
propriate treatment by the choir. If this 
vblume were put into the hands of cholrmaa- 
ters, we might expect prodigious improvement 
in the worship of the National Church. The 
senseless, hopeless, monotonous gabble of the 
chant might give way to a spiritual and elo- 
quent rendering of the immortal minstrelsy. 
We accept the indications of a fervent rubri- 
cian's hand, and even the unnecessarily severe 
condemnation of ' the double chant,' for the 
sake of the practical wisdom, fine .tact, and 
devout purpose o( the authar. 

Daily Meditation*. By the Ke\. Uborob 
BowBS, of Bombay. With Introductory 
Notice by the Hev. W. Hahn*, D.D. Ed- 
uonston and Douglas. 
' The brief memoir of Mr. Bowen with which 
Dr. Uanna prefaces this remarable book'is an- 
other proof that the great age of faith is not 
over, that the grace of God is not exhausted, 
that the spirit which made the first missiona- 
ri^ of the cross and the great heroes of the 
Church is not withdrawn from us. It is the 
more remarkable, because the writer of these 
pages, who has been for twenty years a self- 
denying, self -supported missionary living on a 
few rupees a week in the lowest slums of Bom- 
bay, is a man of rare accomplishments, extra- 
ordinary linguistic faculty, and one who has 
passed through the stormy sea of utter athe- 
ism. It is still more remarkable that one who 
had been the loud advocato of Voltairian infi- 
delity, who had gone beyond Strauss in hia 
earliest denials of faith, should intellectually 
have been reclaimed b; Paley's ' Evidences of 
Christianity,' and by witnessing the practical 
power of the conscious presence of Christ on a 
deathbed of a devout believer. The tone of 
miod revealed in these brief daily meditations 
is penetrating, subtle, rare. All that wo have 
read reveal an intensity of feeling and strength 
of imaglnstion, and a novelty of treatment 
which, while illustrating some familiar text, 
never degenerate into common-place, and very 
seldom border on exaggeration. The combina- 
tion of devout feeling and hard hitting, the 
tolerance and the terrors, the freshness and 
force of these daily meditations is, as far as 
we are concerned, quite unique. Dr. Hanna 
may well say, ' I count it a great privil^e to 
introduce in this country a book so fitted to 
attract and to benefit, and to be associated 
even in this indirect way with so faithful and 
self-denying yet withal so gifted and heroic a 
servant of our Lord Jesus Christ' 

The Nea CydopmAiaof Ulustratice Anecdote, 
Religiom and Moral, Original and Sdecled. 
With Introduction by the Rev. Dokald 
Maclbod, D.D. Elliot Stock. 



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Contemporary Ziterature. 



The yhe Handbook of UlutlratioH. With Id- 
troduction bj Rev. W. Morlbt Pcnshoh, 
LL.D. Elliot Stock. 

Those two Tolumes ttre good epecimens of 
the popul&r class of literature which their titles 
indicate. The fb-st contains nearlj' IBOO illus- 
trative anecdotes, or short stories, selected for 
purposes of religious teaching. The anecdotes 
are professodly authentic, they ere succinctlj 
told, and are classified as to subjects. Young 
people are fond of stories, and in preparing for 
his class the Sunday-school teacher cannot do 
better than store bis mind with two or three of 
the excellent stories here provided for him. 
All people indeed like parabolic teaching, and 
we confess a weakness in turning over the 
pages of a collection tike this. 

The second of the two volumes is a collection 
of illustrative sud pithy ssyings, with brief in- 
dications of theirreligiouH applications, general- 
ly selected from standard writers. Nothing is 
foreign to the compiler's purpose — proverbs, 
anecdotes, Analogies, apologues, types, allego- 
ries, expositions, Ac. Everything that can give 
point to a religious lesson ia laid under conlri- 
Dution. The contents are classified and well 
indexed, as in the ' Book of Anecdotes.' Not 
only Sunday'School teachers but preachers of 
serraonsmight improve their didactics by wise- 
ly UHDg the rich materials of these volumes. 

Xari'* Memoir » of Je*u» C/irUt. A Comment- 
ary on the Gospel according to Mark. By 
Jambs Mdrisoh, D.D. Hamilton, Adams, 

Dr. Horison has followed up his laborious 
and voluminous Commentary on Matthew's 
Gospel by a similar volume on that of Mark. , 
It is, however, an independent volume, and 
carefully avoids the assumption that its reader 
possesses the former. It is very elaborate and 
teamed, the result of enormous readmg. Its 
chief use to the theologian will be as a diction- 
ary of opinions— on every point a formidable 
catalogue of authorities is cited — and yet the 
author moves freely and strongly beneath his 
superincumbent load of literature. The prin- 
cipal section of the Introduction is that on the 
genetic relations of the Gospel. Accepting its 
traditional relation to Peter, Dr. Uorison re- 

i'ects every form of what he calls the 'pendu- 
um theory ' of Oriesbach, and maintains that 
the only demonstrable relations of Mark's Gos- 
pel to those of Matthew and Luke, are the re- 
lations of all three to a common eorpti» of well- 
known facts and teachings. Sometimes we 
think Dr. Morison too ingenious and elaborate ; 
for example, he bestows immense labor upon 
the manifold interpretation of the phrase in the 
eleventh chapter, 'the time of fies is not yet,' 
and takes refuge in a latent spintual meaning 
— All that it is necessary to know is that the 
flg-tree puts forth its fruit before its leaves, 
and that the presence of the leaves was there- 
fore a presumption of the fruit. We may 
commend the volume, thirty or forty times the 
bulk of the Gospel itself, as a laborious and 
learned record of all that has been thought and 
said about it, as a strong Ben«ble exposition 



of its mMftiing, and as imbued with a devout 
spirit and an earnest practical purpose, 

Byttematic Theology. By Charles IIodqb, 
D.D., Professor in the Theological Univer- 



The third volume of this very important 
work fulfils the promise of the earlier volumes. 
The comprehensive grasp of a vast subject, 
the generally excellent arrangement of mate- 
rial, the careful consultation and presentation 
of auihorities, and the abundant references to 
the literature of theology, bid fair to consti- 
tute this work one of the standard expositions 
of the faith of the Cslvinistic Reformed 
churches. Dr. Hodge has by no means con- 
fined himself to the systematization of the 
Princeton theology, he has presented with 
luminous fairness the doctrinal standards and 
argumentative positions of the Anglican and 
Roman churches, has dealt firmly and respect- 
fully with Socinian, Arminian, Zwinglian, 
Lutheran, and Hegelian hypotheses ; and has 
not failed to notice the most recent theories 
and speculations in the various departments of 
Christian psychology, ethics, and eschatolo^y. 
The work is consequently a compendium, not 
only of the Bibliial theology of each subject, 
and of the place it takes in the Calvinistic 
theory, but of historical theology brought 
down to the present day. It would be easy 
to raise discussions on almost every theme 
thus passing under review, but we should, bv 
this means, fail of our present purpose, which 
is to record our high appreciation of the spirit, 
learning, philosophic breadth and profound 
insight, which characterize this attempt to 
systematise the thoughts and speculations of 
eighteen hundred years on matters of deepest 
interest to all The work of a long life is 
crowded into these pages ; hut they constitute 
not only a valuable book of reference for the 
theological student, but one not without con- 
siderable attraction for the general reader. A 
work almost rivallmg in extent the angelical 
Doctor's ' Summa l^eologiaa,' is not a dry 
syllabus of propositions, or of hri communei, 
hut a vivid and readable digest of fascinating 
discussions and fundamental truths. 

7%« Lii/ht of all Agt». By the Rev. Gavdi 
Cablyle, M.A. Stnhan and Cg. 
Mr. Carlyle presents to ns the Christ of the 
New Testament, in the only true and possible 
way— if, that is, the presentation is to be com- 
plete — viz., with all the divine and spiritual 
surroundings of his New Testament portrai- 
ture, and in all His avowed moral and spiritual 
relationships to men. Whatever the mythic 
or philosophic Christ of Strauss and Kenan — 
whatever the merely human Christ of the 
author of ' Ecce Homol' — neither is tbe Christ 
of the New Testament Of this Strauss and 
Renan present only gross perversions, and the 
author of ' Ecce Homo ' only a partial aspect. 
Only the Christ of the New Testament can 
either be the true Christ, or be vindicated lis a 

" " requires that 

luman nature, 



Christ at all. Strict philosophy ri 
all tbe moral phenomena of hui 



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Contemporary ' LiUra hire. 



JaD. 



tciiich tba Christ of the New 'Testament 
nRsumcs. b« recognised, and the claims of the 
Cbrist be tested by tlis spiritual Qtness nnd 
sufOclency to meet tbese. It is not Christ as 
the consummate Teacher and the perfect Han 
that the New Testament presents, it is Christ 
as ihc Redeemer of man from sin. As auoh 
Mr. Carljle presents him. and Reason haR its 
highest province in determining whether such 
a Christ has roallr come, and wheUier His 
character and woric really achieve the moral 
purpose of His coming. The strictest scientific 
methods are demanded for the determination 
of moral and spiritual, as of intellectual and 
physical phenomena. The man of faith is not 
he who believes spiritual things without ade- 
quate evidence, wliich is credulity and super- 
stition ; but he who believas^them on their 
own proper moral evidence. Mr. Carlyle sets 
forth Christ as the Light of the World, the 
Life of the Redeemed, the Moral Teacher, and 
the Great Physician of Men, His Relation to 
all Ages, His Resurrection from the Dead, ilia 
Spiritual Presence in His Church, and the 
Relation of His Religious System to Politics 
and Social Ins'itutions. Only in this complete 
presentation of the «pirilual and redeeming 
Christ, can the New Testament portraiture of 
Him be ever understood. Mr, Carlyle's little 
book is a very succinct, able, and convincing 
exposition of this. 

The Bittory of the Kingdom of God uniler 
the Old Tntameat. Translated from the 
German of E. W. Hekostbnbbbo, late Doc- 
tor and Professor of Theology in Berlin. 
Two Vols. T. and T. Clark. 
The translation of this posthumous ivork of 
Hengstenberg is enriched by an extremely inte- 
resting and candid sketch of the life, charac- 
ter, and work of the author, by Dr. W. B. 
Pope. We are presented with an enumeration 
and a penetrating osfimato of the Biblical and 
cxegetical works which were poured forth in 
such abundance by this great scholar. Dr. 
Pope gives a lucid account of Hengsten belt's 
editorial relations with the Kirehenzeitung, 
and of the troubles which be brought upon 
himself by his restless resolve to testify against 
every species of heresy and vagueness that he 
Vielieved to be undermining Lutheran ortho- 
doxy. Dr. Pope's general estimate of Hcng- 
stenberg's ipfluence upon his age and the rela- 
tive value to be assigned to his exegctjcal 
works appears to us to bo wise and fair, and 
the criticism of his ' Commentary on St 
John's Gospel ' to be very just The theme, 
for the elucidation of which he prepared in his 
youth and which he pursued with undaunted 
energy to the last, was the 'Revelation of God 
in the Old Testament,' the ' Christology,' the 
' Commentaries on the Psalms,' on ' Ecclc- 
siastes,' and on ' Eiekial,' the ' Introduction to 
the Old Testament,* the work on the genuine- 
ness of Daniel and the integrity of Zecha^ 
riah, nearly all of which are to be found in 
Messrs. Clark's foreign theol<^ca] library, are 
sufficient vouchers for the extraordinary fit- 
ness of such a man to write a ' History of the 
Kingdom of God under the Old Testament' 



subject Hengstenberg divided into two 
periods, from Abraham to Moses, and from 
s to Christ I'he latter period is divided 
six sections — (1) Moses, (2) Joshua, (3) 
the Judges, (4) the Kingdom until the division, 
while two further seciions bring tho story 
down to the destruction of Jerusalem. Tho 
whole discussion reflects the stormy and cri- 
tical time in which the history was written, 
and tho firm, devout, almost passionate reli- 
gioua convictions which possessed the vener- 
able and learned author to the close of his 
lite. 

Blending LighU ; or, The HeUtioia of }fat-a- 
rnl Stienee, Arehirolofiy, and Ifietory (o the 
liible. By the Rev. William Fraseb, LL.D. 
James Nlsbet and Co. 

It is not requisite to expound the various 
principles and carefully accumulated fact.s and 
conccs.aions of eminent geologists and scien- 
tific writers which Dr. Frascr hns advanced in 
order to modiiy the haste with which modem 
students are disposed to relinquiiffi their con- 
fidence in the archasology and chronology of 
Holy Scripture. With singular ability and 
fairness ho has met the speculations of Mr. 
Darwin, and has replied to the hurried genera- 
lizations of Egyptologists. There is a line 
catholic spirit pervading tho volume, and there 
is the ring of true scientific caution. The tone 
adopted with reference to the creative days is, 
however, vacillating and extremely undograatic. 
Like Dr. Gerard Molloy, the author sees dif- 
ferent ways out of the difficulties without 
relinquishing cither scientific fact or Divine 
revelKtion. Perhaps he does not speak too 
positively when he says, ' If there is one lesson 
more than another which the progress of the 
sciences is teaching us, it is that of caution, 
and the necessity of repressing a dogmatic 
tendency ; and ir there ts one benefit more 
than another which the history of this discus- 
sion is conferring, it is that of confidence in 
the truth of the liible." 

Apologetic Lecturer on the Moral Truth* of 
Chriatianity. Delivered in Leipsic in tho 
Winter of 1872. By Chh. Ernst LuTaaitDT. 
Translated from the German by Sopbia 
Tatloil Edinburgh : T. and T. Clark. 
The excellency of Dr. Luthardt an a popular 
expositor of the evidences of Christianity is, 
the combination in him of adequate scholar- 
ship and familiarity with modem thought, with 
popular lucidity and rhetorical power. Hence 
his lectures have been quoted as outhoritiefi, 
even by men bo scholarly as Canon Liddon. 
The present volume deals with Christian 
morals, a subject which just now seems to be 
attracting sftecial attention in the Christian 
controversy. The purpose of the lectures is 
to establish the vital connection between reli- 
gion and morali ty, and to show that tho religion 
of Christ inculcates and inspires the highest 
moralitjr that the world baa seen. Taking as 
bis basis the fundamental moral elements of 
our human constitution, especially conscience, 
and the essential freedom of the human will 
as necessary for their expression, the lecturer 



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1874. 

demonstnktcR, amid the various methods of 
iDoml culture thnt the world has had pro- 
pounded to it, the transcendent onccllenco of 
Chrlstisnitf. both in iln idea and its vital force. 
I'hus, the Root Principle of (:hristiRn Love, 
the Uevotional Life of the Christian, Christian 
Marriftge, the Christian Home, the State and 
Christianity, Culture and Christianity, Huma- 
nity' and Christianity, are surveyed with great 
breadth, completeness, and force of both argu- 
ment and illustration. It is, we think, the 
most vigorous and valuable volume of the 



Liturgical Purity our Riglilfal laherilanet. 
Bv JoBN CowLBV PisiiEK, M. A., of the 
Uiddle Temple. Third edition. Part I., 
The Daptisraal Services. Longmans, Green, 
and Co. 

The first edition of Mr, Fisher's book was 
published in 18ST. the second in 1600 ; the 
third edition, now before us, is so much en- 
larged, that the flrst part, devoted to the Bap- 
tismal services, fills a bulk as large as the ori- 
ginal treatise. Mr. Fisher is an ardent advo- 
cate of the revision of the Book of Common 
Prayer, in the direction of Gvangelicalism. 
He would have it thoroughly purged of its 
Sacrnmentarian elementii. This, bethinks, is 
the 'rightful inheritanae ' of the Episcopal 
Church, as being ' more thoroughly accordant 
with the genuine principles of the Reforma- 
tion.' He would especially ' undo the Laudian 
alterations surreptitiously made by the re- 
actionary party in the year 1862, and re-esta- 
blish it once more upon its earliest and most 
comprehensive basis.' 

Mr, Fisher must remember, howover, that 
the later modifications are, in a legal point of 
view, as authoritative as the earlier forms. 
We, as outsiders, do not presume to judge the 
li^l ques^on, especially since the Bennett 
judgment, although our doctrinal sympathies 
are with Mr. Fisher. 'Hhe question is one that 
necessarily must mainly concern the Episcopal 
Church. Whether the Free Churches of Eng- 
land will ever use Liturgies or not, it is certain 
they will never use the Sacramentarian Ser- 
vices of the Book of Common Prayer. Mean- 
while, all who wish to see the historical ques- 
tion carefully sifted, and the religious question 
forcibly argued, had better procure Mr. Fisher's 
able and sdiolarly book. 

Tie Church in tkt Home, h Series of Lessons 
on the Acts of the Apostles. By William 
Abnot, Minister of the Free Church in 
Edinburgh. James NIsbet and Co. 
The title of Mr. Amot's book is justified by 
the use for which ho. intends it llis ' exposi- 
tions have been prepared partly, at least, with 
a view to their use in families on Uie evening 
of the Lord's day.' They are very brief ser- 
mons, not aiming at completeness of treatment, 
either of text or of the representative verse 
selected from it, but presenting two or Uiree 
salient points for practical instruction and edi- 
fication. They are vigorous in thought, fer- 
tile in suggestion, often happy in illustration, 
and pungent in application. As a whole. 



Contemporary Literalure. 



however, thtf volume is not equal to the 
author's ' Laws from Heaven for Life on 
Earth.' 

The Truth in ita otcn Light ; or, ChrlHianily 
thmcnfrom ittelf to 1)6 n Divine Retchition 
to 3fan. In Five Parts. By Rev. Jouh 
Cooper. Melbourne : George Robertson. 
This volume is a worthy specimen of the 
talent, energy, and thoughtful culture of our 
colonial ministers. It would be difficult to 
convey in short compass the burden of an 
argument prolonged through 600 pages. The 
object of the first part is to show that the 
position taken by Christ at His particular 
epoch of the world's history, and Ibe confi- 
dence with which He assumed it are proofs of 
His supernatural mission. Then Mr. Cooper 
shows tiiat the spirit, principle, and example 
of Jesus are all that is necessary to the true 
well-being of man, and thus furnish proof of 
His incarnate personality. The author shows 
with some force that Jesus * either did live a 
life of unsullied perfection, or His illiterate 
disciples have surpassed all the genius of earth 
in their description of an original and perfect 
character.' The most original argument in 
the volume is concerned with the principle 
that self-sacrifice is the only power that 
can stay the enmity of the carnal mind - that 
the revelation of the self-sacrifice of the 
Divine is impossible to devils, men, or angels. 
Since the Gospel discloses Ihis fact, it must 
therefore be of Qod and can be from no other 
source. Then, finally, the history of Chris- 
tianity is tbe history of the victory of un- 
worldly truth, the revelation of the aim of one 
personally conscious in Himself of the Infi- 
nite, Eternal, and Divine, and therefore a prCMif 
of the Divine nature and work of our blessed 
Lord. There is considerable subtlety in the 
prioress of the argument, and, as may be 
judged from this brief outline, some tempta- 
tion to frequent repetitions of the same 
thought. There is, moreover, a vein of expos- 
tulation and homiletic appeal, which gives 
the entire production more the character of a 
popular address, than that of a logical combat 
with eager, unscrupulous antagonists. To 
make the argument irrefragable, it would have 
been well to have compared more carefully 
the self-sacrifice and moral zeal of Christ with 
that of ' other Masters ' of luankind. We 
accept the work as a valuable and original 
addition to the internal evidences of the 
Divine origin of Christianity. 

77(« OratioTit of Demo»thene* and j^iekintt 
on tlt« Crown. With Introductory Noles 
and Essays by G. A. Simcox, M.A,, and by 
W. H. Smcoi, M.A. Oxford : Clarendon 
Press Series. 

A free translation 'of these rival speeches, 
Suorum doqutntimnuyrwn nairiliitimtu ora- 
lionet inttr tt eontrariiu, as the noblest speci- 
mens of Attic oratory, was made by Cicero. 
This translation, which has not been preserved, 
yet indicates that they ought to be studied to- 
gether. These orations, if only from their 
acknowledged difficulties, have from that time 



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160 

until noir bftd atlTBct ions for editors and rcadcni, 
while the actuftl mtttvr amply reptiyB theneces- 
Bary trouble to diEcovcr the meaning. It is 
Gcarcelj possible to ofer-estimate their value 
and importance, once granted that Greek ora- 
tory, law, and politics are important tousatall. 
They were the highest and most- successful 
efforts of the two greatest orators of antiquity ; 
and we have the two orations to compare in 
their best and most finished state, not as they 
were actually delivered, but as they were 
touched up and corrected by thrfr respective 
authors with a view to publication. Tliey em- 
body, therefore, not simply the ioflJest eloquence 
and rhetorical art, but the highest rellectjve and 
logical powers. The trial at which they were 
delivered constituted the greatest political duel 
Greece had ever witnessed, and it may be truth- 
fully said that tlieso speeches throw tight, as 
nothing else does, on the state and motives of 
parlies in those stormy, eventful latter dajs of 
Athenian glory. We rejoice, therefore, to find 
an edition like the present, which will enable 
the reader to appreciate these orations in the 
breadth and complexity of their importance. In 
OUT opinion the most valuable, as it is the most 
d stinctive, feature of the present edition is the 
introductory matter, which extends over one 
hundred and thirty pages. Here, besides a 
careful summary of all that is known of the 
rival orators' lives, and a searching estimate of 
the motives and influences that regulated their 
conduct, we have two admirable chapters — one 
'On the Practical Politics of the Age of Demos- 
thenes,' and the other, ' On the Documents 
quoted in the "Oration on the Crown."' • Mr. 
Simcoi places the moral character of Demosthe- 
nes considerably lower and that of Philip de^ 
ddedly higher thaq the ori)inary estimate, 
which, if not absolutely more correct, Is at all 
events more in harmony with the ' Zeitgeist.' 
These essays, we venture to say, will be prized 
not simply by classical specialists, but by all 
who take a wide interest in the history and 
politics of that exciting period. 

The indispensable assistance which the reader 
of these authors requires has been hitherto 
sougbt in the excellent editions of Bromi, Dis- 
sen, Westermann, Whiston, and lleslop. The 
book Ijefore us will for the future become an 
essential part of the ripe scholar's apparatus, 
and be found Buffldent for the purpose of the 
ordinary student. Considered as an edition of 
a classic, we regard that of Whiston decidedly 
the best ; but as an attempt to place tlie men 
and circumstances of that age before the mind 
of tlie modem reader, this edition has decided- 
ly tlie advantage. The notes, regarded from a 
Kchootboy point of view, will not be considered 
sufficiently copious, but the idiomatic transla- 
tions of the difficult words and phrases 'S'hich 
abound in theae speeches are exceedingly help- 
ful. The temper of the young will not be 
ruffled by numerous references to Jelfs and 
Madvig's grammars, or to untranslated parallel 
passages whtdi are seldom consulted. The 
editors have carefully avoided crowding their 
pages with references, from the conviction that 
they would be found an encumbrance to thoB« 
who simply want to make out their author with 



Contemporary literature. 



Jsn. 

as little trouble as possible, and an interruption 
and impertinence to the critical and indepen- 
dent student The value of the work is greatly- 
enhanced by the excellent indices with which it 
is provided. 

The DiaUrt of Cumberland : With a Chapi«r 
on iu Place-namet. By Robert Febgcson. 
Williams and Norgate. 

This work, so far as the lexical aspects at an 
important dialect of English are concerned, can 
scarcely be improved upon. It might have 
been well to have indicated by some abbrevia- 
tion when the words occur which are common 
to other northern counties wiUi Cumberland. 
The cbapter on place-names is curious. The 
Oreek etymology for kirb is relinquished in 
favor of hirraeJc, a druidical circle ; but it is im- 
possible to give an idea of the value of Uie 
work without copious extracts from ihe voca- 
bulary, which will bo of groat service in the 
comparative philology of iKe English language. 
TOT -AnOT A0ANA210T RATA APEIAHQN 
AOrOI. The Orations of St. Athanasius 
against the Arians, according to the Benedic- 
tine Text, with an account of his life, by 
William Bbigiit, D.D,, Regius Professor of 
Ecclesiastical History. Oxford : Clarendon 

This account of the life of Athanasius is 
written wilhextremecare, and displays on every 
page great erudition. The author reverts to th« 
original sources of information for every fact 
that is mentioned, almost for every epithet 
used ; and, at all events, for every opinion that 
is expressed. The sympathy of the author is 
abundantly and lightly yielded to tiie wonder- 
ful man whose brave, loyal, saintiy soul shines 
out in that most chequered and romantic life of 
bis. Incomparably the noblest of the Greek 
fathers, his lire is almost the history of the 
Christian Church, and. involves to some con- 
siderable extent the his toi? of both Eastern and 
Western Empires during half of the fourth cen- 
tury. Notwithstanding all that has been done, 
from the panegyric of Gregory of Naziahzus to 
the eulogy of llooker, by the elaborate treat- 
ment of the theme by Mohler, by the involun- 
tary homage of Gibbon, by the works of Bishop 
Kaye and Dr. J. II. Newman, and the space 
devoted to the character and work of Athana- 
sius by all church historians of the fourth cen- 
tury — students will find this succinct rAume of 
the facts valuable and suggestive. 

The text of the * Orations against the 
Arians ' is admirably printed and furnished 
with head-lines in English. The volume would 
have been increased in value if it had contained 
an analysis of the argument of each of these 
famous discourses. 



Tha OharaeUr of St. Paul. Being the 
Cambridge Hulsean Lectures for 1862. By 
John S. Howson.D.D., Dean of Chester. Third 
Edition. (Strahan and Co.) It is enough to 
record the appearance of this popular edition 



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18J4. 



Contemporary Literature. 



/ 



of Dcon Howaon's Admirable ftortraiture of 
Paul the Aposlle. The personal characterlsticH 
of the great Chrisltan doctor are pourtrayed 
with a rare degree of insight and power, and the 
nun is a Targe part of his distinctive teaching. 
—The Clati and the Desk. A Manual lor 
Sunday • school Teacliera, Old Testament 
Series. Job to Jlakchi. By Charles Stokes 
Cakby. (James Sangster and Co.) Wo have 
heartily commended the previous Tolumes of 
this very admirable manual for Sunday-school 
teachers. A vast deal of compressed informa- 
tion and succinct expo.sition is contained in it. 
It is almost a sufGcient handbook for the school, 
lis well as a repertory of telling nnecdotes and il- 
lustrations.— J»* School and Childrtn't Biblfi. 
Prepared under the superintendence of (he Eev. 
William Rooers, M.A., Prebendary j^ St 
Paul's, etc. (Longmans, Green, and CgC) It is 
only natural that the admirable wgjU^f Jfessrs. 
Cassell, produced some two yjaife ago, should 
have imitators. No work opseleclcd portions 
of Scripture will satisfy evp^body, either by al! 

be no doubt that muidij is gained for the use of 
the Bible in fannlHfi, by the omission of genea- 
logical and ritufl^natter, as well as of portions 
ofthehistoryAhichare incongruous with the 
refinements off our day. Mr. Rogers says (hat 
the present Work may be regarded as a ' New 
Lcctionary.'i The Authorised Version is fol- 
lotted, excebt in ihe Psalms. Mr, Rogers has 
preferred tjfe far less accurate Prayer Book ver- 
ity, wo suppose, because it is such, 
e Psalms and the Three Gospels are 
arranged /according to tlieir subjects, and the 
Pmpheti according to their chronoli^. The 
editor's Aim has been ' to exhibit williout theo- 
logical Uias the moral and spiritual teaching of 
the 0^ and New Testament.' AVo are dis- 
posed fto welcome his work, first as breaking 
throudi the superstitious ignorance which re- 
versesjihe very accidents of Scripture, and next 
-" lenlling to a more intelligent apprcliension 
contents of the Divine book. — /. Come 
'eicome to Jetut Ckritt. II. The Great- 
hf the Sottf, the Water of Life. III. The 
W and the Publican. IV. The Strait 
Ckritt n Compute Saviour. V. Oraee 
■.unJiag to the Ch^f of Sinner*. VI. Ju»- 
. ation by an Imputed li'igkteoufneta. The 
Jtrlimlem Sinner Saved, (Blacklo and Son.s,) 
A (series of little books intended to comprise 
principal of Bunyan's practical works. 
.hing can be more stimulating to religious 
than these passionate apprals of 
of nonconformity. — The Noachie 
\litge : Its Probable Phytteal Effect*, and 
•etent Scidence*. By the Rev, S. Lucas, 
FJG.S. (Hodder and Stoughton.) Mr. Lucas 
ntends that a cataclysm, such as is described 
(ioiiesis, would produce physical effects such 
geologists of various schools scientifically re- 
cord. He contends that not only could not such 
a miraculous and stupendous catastrophe occur 
without leaving permanent effects, but that tiie 
phenomena which geologists have to account 
for are precisely such as it would leave, and as 
cannot be otherwise accounted for. Mr. Lucas 
writes intelligently and modestly. As he justly 
vols LIX. B — U 



161 

observes, the problem is a complicated and difB- 
cult one. He has contributed to its solution 
the well-informed views of a reverent believer in' 
the Bible.— 77i« Virffin Mnry and the Tra- 
ditiont of Painters. Ily the Kev. J. G. Clat, 
M.A. (J. T. Hayes.) Mr. Clay has written a 
history of the picture-doctrine of the Virgin 
Mary. Few will question the uses of sacred art 
which in his preface be formally vindicates, and 
although his special theme takes him on to 
ground that for Romanists and High Church- 
men- is a kind of enchanted ground, be has ex- 
amined facts and formed judgments with great 
fairness and moderation. He maintains that no 
-festival, in which the name of the Virgin was 
especially mentioned, was instituted before the 
end of the filth century ; that, in the early 
period of Christian art, no distinction was made 
between her and other saints ; that the Virgin 
as an Orante was later than the martyrs and 
saints in her appearance in sacred art; that the 
nilonition of the Magi was not an early subject 
of Roman art, nor was it represented for the 
sake of the Virgin Mary ; that the Vfrgin in 
early art has no aureola, especially in the Mag- 
giore picture of the Annunciation ; that there is 
no indication of the doctrine that she may be 
worshipped for her own sake, and that she 
wields authority in the name of her Son ; that 
no Virgin worship was taught by the council of 
Ephcaus. It is a scholarly and candid little 
work, worthy a place on the shelf of Christian 
art. — The 7'aberaacle and it* Prteeta and Ser- 
tiee* ; Detcribed and Contidered in Relation to 
Chritt and the Church. With Diorama, 
Views, and Woodcuts. By William Bbowk. 
Second Edition. (Edinburgh t William Ulipbant 
and Co.) We omitted to notice the first edition 
of Mr. Brown's careful, sensible, and very com- 
plete work. He describes minutely, in the 
light of modern research, every constituent, ap- 
pointment, and service of the Jewish Taber- 
nacle, and points out with much discrimination 
and sobriety such typical relations ofit to Christ 
and His Church as seem to have been intended. 
It is the completeet and wisest handbook to Ihe 
Tabernacle and its Leviticus that we know. — 
The Biblical Muuum ; a Collection of Note*, 
Erplanntory, Uomiletie, and lUuttrative, on 
the Holy Seriptaret. Especially designed for 
the u.ie of Ministers, Bible Students, and Sun- 
day-school Teachers. By Jakes Comper Gray. 
Vol. III. Acts of the Apostles and Romans. 
Vol. IV. Epistles, from 1 Corinthians to Phile- 
mon, (Elliot Stock.) Mr. Gray has completed 
two more volumes of a very useful little manual, 
which combines in a scholarly and admirable 
way a succinct exegetical commentary, and ho- 
miletical suggestions and references, with illus- 
trative anecdotes and selections, . Brief prolego- 
mena supply all needful collateral information 
concerning eoch book. It is admirably ailopt- 
ed for its avowed purposes. — Chriitianity 
Irretpectire of Churehei: Thirteen Letter* 
to an Italian Nobleman on the CliriiCiait 
Keligion, (Hamilton, Adams, and Co.) This 
is substantially a reproduction of Mr. Dunn's 
' Churches, a History and an ArgumenL' 
It has been translated into Italian, Spanish 
and French, and now returns to its original 



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ConUmporary Literature. 



162 

English, »s tlie editor imngines that ttie let- 
ter?, from tlieir niiti- Romanist character tnd 
their omission of many of the topics dis- 
cussed by Mr. Dunn, may interest a class of 
persons who are much concerned for the wel- 
fare of Protestantism. We think the editor is 
not mistaken as to his estimate of die probable 
usefulnesB of these lettlers. The fact that they 
were addressed to an Italian nobleman, a mem- 
ber of the Romish hierarchy, will gire them an 
ailditional element of interest. — Am»# Present 
DifficvUia in Theohgjf: being LeeLuret to 
Tiiuitg Men, delicered in the Englith Pi^ub'jte- 
riaa College, Lmuloii. With a Preface b> Os- 
wald Dtees, M.A, (Hoddcr and StouehtWiV 
These lectures must hove been been helpful 
and stimulating to the young men who were 
privileged to hear them. And now that they 
are given to the public they cannot fail to be 
widely useful They cannot be pronounced 
original in thought, or novel in their node of 
treating the various subjects, still they are 
sound and healthy expositions of questions of 
the highest importance. The authority of 
Holy Scripture is discussed by Mr. Dykes with 
great discrimination and candour; be resolves 
the whole into a question of evidence ; Dr. 
Lorimcr exposes with much vigour the arro- 
gance and dogmatism of scientific men, who 
attempt, on inductive grounds, to deny the 
reality of miracles ; Mr. Gibb expounds with a 
good deal of force and eamestncRs the questions 
of unbelief, doubt, and faith ; and Dr. Chalmers 
examines the moral and expiatory theories of 
the atonement, and upholds the latter as most 
in harmony with the statemenLs of Scripture. 
and as alone meeting the exigencies of humani- 
ty. We commend the little volume to the 
notice of thoughtful and inquiring young men. 
It will aid them in their inquiries, and may 
solve some of their AoahU.—The Cliildkooil of 
the World: A Simjde Acco'into/ Mart in Early 
Times. By Edward Clodd, F.R.A.S. (Mac- 
milLtn and Co.) This is a charming little book. 
Nothing better could be put into the hands of 
children or of many grown people to tell them 
the wonderful story of man's progress in the 
arl4< of civilization, and in the solution of ques- 
t'ons connected with his moral and spiritual 
life. Without technicalities, or anything to 
stumble or perplex the youthful and inquiring 
mind, and in a style of beautiful simplicity it 
conducts us through the dimness and mystery 
of the remote past, and throws mora light on 
the great problems of humanity than many 
works of a more pretentious and elaborate 
character. A judicious use of this little book 
by parents and teachers would be attended 
with immense benefiL— r^« Christian Life:. 
An Expoiition of Banyan' t Pilgriait Prograe. 
By the Rev. Jahks Black, D,D. (James Nis- 
bet and Co.) Marvellous are tiie changes which 
are wrought by a few years I Bunyan. the 
despised and persecuted prisoner of Bedford 
ioil, has become the admired of all classes. 
Ilia dream, or 'Pilgrim' is translated into many 
languages and read by all men. the cultured 
not less than the simple and unlettered', and 
not only read, but illustrated and expounded 
by the artist and the commentator. Although 



Jan. 



we do not think that there is any deep-lying 
mystery, or hidden meaning in the ' Pilgrim," 
its flight of fancy, ita imagery, and its varied 
character furnish ample material for iltustra- 
Ijon and general instruction respecting the 
Christian life. Of those Dr. Black has made 
ample use ; and with remarkable force and 
discrimination has drawn from them a variety 
of salutary and stimulating lessons. Perhaps 
gome readers may deem his ' Exposition ' too 
extended and elaborate, as the volume, now 
before us of nearly 500 pa^es, embraces onFy a 
pwt of the ' Pilgnm,' but the variety and rich- 
ness of the instruction communicated, and the 
force and occnsionat eloquence of the style in 
tjiich it is expressed, will gratify and compen- 
sate those who give to the book an attentive 
peruML We trust Dr. Black will be induced 
speedily'* issue his second volume. 



Fi-om the Birth t-> the MJ)t^ ^'^Znd 'o 
Ninety-teven Hour* Tirenty -^''V[i,,Jtration': 
Trip lioufid It. With Numerous 1" *I? r„ , 
i>_ I II ,t. I Iw ana *-o.) 

By Jules Viiinb. (baropson Ldfc,. „f v,.rtA 
The Pur CoHntry, or Seventy DegrB^ ■' - -• 
Latitude. Translated from the 
Jules Vbkne. with One Hundred Illi 
(Surapson Low and Co.) 
scientific possibilities in 

natural and charming, that 

d women arc fascinated by his 
The whole, too, is conceived in a mind 
not only with what science has already 
ered, but with its tendencies and dreai 
that the scientific passes into the impossj 
the most artful way. Waggishly onougl 
his extravaganzas have generally on Am' 
matrix. They are as wild as Munchausci] 
as natural as Robinson Crusoe. Afte: 
American War, a Yankee Uun Club 
in propelling a gigantic projectile w 
force that it goes to thi 
but for its eoi 
which deflects it, and it makes an elliptl 
id the moon. Again coming witi 
the sphere of the earth's attraction it falls ii 
the Atlantic Ocean five miles deep, and floal 

ship, until rescue comes. The 
tion and history of the gigantic gun are 
scribed with inimitable naturalness, and all 
scientiflc problems suggested by such atrip, 
admirably touched. — The Ftir Country is i 
quite so daring in its glorious extravagnncl 
It describes an exploring party sent out by thl 

Hudson's Bay Company, including ' "" *" 

Englishmen, to seek furs in seven , 
latitude. Thev settle upon what they imagine 
to be the northern edge of the Continent It 
iroves to be an island, the icy portion of which 
breaks loose with the explorers, and carries 
them through Behring's Straits into the Paoi8f 
Ocean. It touches land when almost moltea 
away. Around this romance M. Venie >** 




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p»there<! nil kinds of Arclic lore and adventure. 
He tells the most astounding incidents witli 
imperturbable seriousness, and manages his 
incidents so admirablj, that almost the nhole 
hislory of Polar enterprise is worked into his 
story. Every odicr page is an illustration. 
The books are both of them superb in thvir 
exciting cleverness and charm. Among the 
boys' books of the year they are so far first 
that the rest are nowhere. Concerning some 
of the latter, however, wft have a hoarly word 
of commendation to give. Mr. Knatcubull- 
Hitgessen's Quur Folk (Macmillan) is his 
annual contribulion of a fairy budget, and is 
genuine in its fairy-land quality, and full of 
cleverness, freshness, and interest. 'There is 
a warlock, a witch, ■ society of pig<faced ladies, 
a quantity of elves, and several other things 
and persons which any unprejudiced individual 
will at once allow to be queer enough to justify 
the nnme I have chosen.' The warlock is a 
good as anything that Mr. KnalchbullHugef 
Ben has done. He is the best of fairy-tale 
writers. How Mr. Gladstone must envy the 
fun of his grotesque imagination 1 — Out and 
JU Aho'it: Fublet for Old and Toimg. By 
H. A. Pace. (W. Isbistcr and Co.) Mr, 
Page hns shown that he can do literary work 
Of a. more dignified character, but he has done 
nothing that indicates greater ability than this. 
j'Gsop is almost as great as Arislotle ; for fables 
of the true kind are a combination of philoso- 
phy and fancy, wisdom and artistic form, 
which few can successfully achieve. We can 
give Mr. Page no higher praise than to say that 
he writes genuine fables, which will be read 
by young and old — by the former for their 
story, by the latter for their good sense. Let 
oorreadcrs turn to 'The Spider on Trial' (rather 
too long, however, for a fable, as are several 
others), in whiclf amateur science is admirably 
quizzed ; ' The Rose and the Elm Tree,' pointing 
the moral of place and drcumstiincc, even for 
the choicest endowments ; 'The Bevolution in 
Toy-land,' which \i a clever satire on ignorant 
democmts. ' Tlie Slran-re Trio,' again, is 
a chaniiiiig apologue. The writer has care- 
fully sludii-d the ways and habits of the animal 
creation. The charm of the book is the clever- 
ness of its stories and the truth of ils symbols. 
It is a genuine contribution to table tore, per- 
haps the best of this generalion. The illustra- 
tions are specially good. It is in every way 
most admirable.— rAe Pet. (TsbisUr and Co.) 
The Bev. 11. B. Haweis boa written a story of 
great merit for children. Ho tells of holidays, 
sea-side escapades, and chemical experiments. 
with boy-like gusto, and does not forget to 
ihrow in, as he proceeds, his salt of humour, 
which renders the powerful pnthos of the close 
all the more effective. But wo wish — we do 
wish — he could but have spared 'Pet' The 
di'nwings, especially some of the little thumb- 
nail ones, are excellent. — Fabla and Fancies, 
by Uiss ItEATA Frances {[sbister and Co.), :s a 
seiies of light, fresh, fanciful tales, gracefully 
conceived and well-written, and charmingly il- 
lustrated by Mr. J. B. Zwecker. — Bal/ U<mri 
ibUK the Early Explorer*. Ity Thomas Fbost. 
(Cassoll's.) A series of chapters consisting ofl 



CfitUemjyorary Ziileradire, • 



183 

careful compilations from earlv travelled, such 
as Marco Polo, Mandoville, Columbus, Vasco da 
Uuma, &c, and illustrated by maps and charts 
fi'oni the library of the British Museum, and by 
engravings made for early editions, forming n 
kind of chronological chain of discovery and ad- 
venture in all parts of the world, the whole 
corresponding to the editor's description of Sir 
John Mandeville's travels that it reads * like n 
chapter of Herodotus pieced with fragments of 
(he " Thousand and one Nights," ' which means 
that tho more credible narratives are not with- 
out their admixture of ' travellers' tales.' The 
book resembles former compilations, known ia 
our childhood as ' Wonders of the World.' It 
owes no little indeed to its predecessors, espe- 
cially to the old French 'Livre des Merveilles,' 
only it is more artistic in arrangement, and 
richer in .illustrations. The latter, however, 
are some of them misplaced, and the spelling of 
proper names is a little wild. The book is as 
roninntic as a fairy-tale. — Harry'i Jiig Boott ; 
a Fairy Tale fur ' SmatU Folke.' By S. B. 
Gav. With Illustrations by the author. 
(Sauiuel I'insley.) Ilaixy comes into posses- 
sion of the far-famed seven -leagued boots, 
which carry him wherever ho wishes to go, not 
only over mountains, but through seas. Ue 
meels with marvellous things. For instance, 
he finds a deepsca town lighted by a EunRsh \ 
the people mistake the dredge of the Challenge 
for a waggonette, into which, unfortunately for 
themselves, Ihey venture to get. He bos other 
marvellous experiences at the bottom of the sea 
not unlike those which Jules Verne described 
in his wonderful book of last year. More satire 
probably is meant than is achieved, but the 
manifold adventures of Harry are^ full of fun, 
crowned by his waking up in bed'to hear his 
mother snv, ' Now, dear, I think we had bettor 
taie it.'— 'The Old Fairy Talti. Collected and 
Edited by J*hi» Mason. (Cassell's.) Mr. Ma- 
son has collected twenty of tho best of the old 
Fairy Tales : 'Puss in Boots,' 'The Sleeping 
Beauty,' 'Jack the Giant Killer,' *c. The 
merit is, first in bringing together these delect- 
able old classics of the nursery, and next in pre- 
senting them in an unmodemized, uncorrupted 
ion, and then in accompanying them with 
e very exquisite illustrations. These old 
favourites are alwnys new and welcome. — (iold- 
Dayt : a Tale of OirW School Life in Ger- 
many. By Jeanie Hering. (Cassell's.) This 
':s a quaint and picturesque picture of Ger- 
nan school life. It is in tone and purpose, 
la well as in incident and description, deseiv- 
ng of commendation. The description of the 
Christmas Tree is perfect ; pcrhapsa little more 
emphasis might have been put upon the repro- 
bation of evil passions, but the romance and 
piquancy of the whole are delightful. — Trolly'* 
Weiding Tour and Story Booh. By EIlizabetu 
Stuabt. PnBLFS. (Sampson Low and Co,) 
There is an undesiriihle precocity In the franie- 
wurk of this story. Some children play at 
being married, and at getting divorced, the re- 
sult of which is a duel upon the lop of a wall, 
which Trotty gets hurt He amuses him- 
self with a printing-press, and prints a book, to 
which these stories are mysteriously contribu- 



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184 

ted. They are stories of American life, and are 
ftdmirably told. — Storie* of SnterprUe and Ad- 
venture; A Sdeetion of Authentic iiarrativet. 
(Seeley's.) These are aurtienlic narratives, 
picked out of boohs of travel with a good deal 
of care and Hkill, bo that irhilo short, each is 
complete, and is generally the most interesting 
episode of ttie work Trora which it is taken. It 
is a charming book for young people, such as 
only an extensive knowledge of hooks wisely 
used could have produced. —Tii/Mo/jldwn^ura 
on the fka. By R. M. Ballantyne. (James 
Nisbet.) Four tales selected from Baltaittyne's 
Uiscellany, founded on fact, and illustrating 
seafaring experiences in various parts of the 
globe. Mr. Ballantyne's powerof exciting nar- 
rative is as well known as Mr. Kingston's, 
although he is not quite equal to the latter gen- 
tlcnian in finisli and taste. His storie^t never 
flag, boys always read them with avidity — 
' Fighting the Whales,' ' Fast in the Ice.' ' The 
Cannibal Islands,' ' The Battle and the Breeze,' 
are the titles of the stories. They suggest the 
scenes and odventures described. — Mint Moore; 
a Tale for Qirh. By Georqcna M. Ciiaik. 
(Sampson Low and Co.) One of (he John 
Halifax series of girls' books — a story without 
much of incident, but having a graceful charm 
of descriptinn and sentiment, illustrating the 
feelings of little girls toward a new goTemes.s. 
The writer understands child nature. — Joan of 
Are, and the Timet of Charlet the Secealli, 
King of France. (Griffith and Fartan.) 
Another of Mrs. Bbav's careful and picturesque 
studies of French history, full of grace and sim- 
plicity, and skilfully weaving together details 
of fact and circumstance Into a vivid narrative. 
The world will never weary of the story of the 
Maid of Orleins. Miss Purr has recently told 
it witli fulness and characteristic grace, but 
Mrs. Bray will command a lai^e circle of young 
readers. She has carefully studied French au- 
thorities, not only recent historians, such as 
Henri Martin, but old chroniclers, such as Mon- 
strolct, Commines, lie la March, Ac. No ser- 
vice to young people can be greater than that 
rendered by books like this. — Brave Heart*. 
By RoBBKTSon (luAY, (Snmpson Low and Co.) 
A very clever American stnry, which originally 
appeared in the pages of tlio * Christian Union.' 
Its moral is that there is no heart so brave as 
that of a faithtbl woman. Its descriptions of 
American life, and eapecially of life in Califor- 
nia, are full of vividness and power, sometiiDcs 
approaching the power of the author of 'The 
Luck of Roaring Camp,' Mr. Robertson Gray 
has been hitherto unknown to English readers. 
This little book will go for to establish for him 
a high reputation. — Walttr Crniie'n Nea Toy 
Booh Containing twenty-four pages of pic- 
tures. Designed by Waller Crane, and printed 
in colours by Edmund Evans. (G. Rouiledge.) 
The epedality of this book is in its illustrations, 
which are very spirited and clever, and admira- 
bly drawn and coloured. The stories are brief 
rhythmical versions of old nursery favourites — 
' Cinderella,' 'Tlia Forty Tliievea,' &c. ; we do 
not remember so effective a hook of pictures 
for very young children. — The Children's 
Pleatare Book. Containing Original Tales, Bi- 



■ Contemporary Ziteralure. 



Jan. 

ographies, and sundry Rendiiigs, with two hun- 
dred and filly Illustrations. (Virtue and Co.) 
We can scarcely agree with the compiler that 
the mission of 'Alice's Adventures in Wonder- 
land' was to strike a blow at bold simplicity, 
and then retire fiom the field : Alice will Uveas 
long as Cinderella. He has. however, produced 
a very charming book, which will bear what he 
calls the 'Human Test,' that is, it appeals to 
complicate human feeling, its imaginations, aa 
vrell as its literal n ess; to the wondering thoughts 
of children, as well as to their simplicity, it isa 
selection such as the title describes, made with 
a good deal of insight into child nature. We 
think that it will be a great favourite. The il- 
lustrations are profuse ond good. — Pioneer* of 
the Ckrutian Faith. By A. Giil'ar Foubes. 
With eight Plates.— Jfiny'« fl«wA« ; Storietof 
Old Chums. By Stbtobs J. Mackenna. With 
eight Plates.— AV.C fly Tieo ; Stories of Old 
Sehoolfellown. By Eorrii Dixon and M. de 
MoKOAN. With eight Plates. (Virtue and Co.) 
Three volumes of a new series, entitled the 
'Crown Library,' which, by their neatness, 
cheapness, and literary qualilie.% seem likely to 
be liivourites. — Pianeert of the Chrisliin 
Faith is a series of Biographical Sketches of 
Aug;ustine, Wyckliffe. Luther, Calvin, Uelanch- 
thon, Huss, Ridley, Knox, &c, down to mod- 
ern missionaries. The best autliorities have 
been selected. The sketches are carefully 
written in a spirit of fairness, and with wisdom. 
— King's Beeehe*. 'Red Weskit' had been 
major-domo for fifty years at King's Beeches,an 
educational establishment for young gentlemen. 
His jubilee is celebrated by a presentation and 
a feast, out of wliich the reminiscences come 
which make up the school-boy stories of the 
volume. They are well told, and are redolent 
of 8cliool-boy life. — Si-B by Tito is a book of 
similar scliool^rl atones. Miss Dc Morgan's 
stories are the best, and promise for the future 
literary fruit of rich flavour. 'The French Girl 
at School ' is tender and charming. Tiie entire 
scries is clever. — PariMet for Childrfi,. lly 
the Rev. E. A. Abbott, D.D., with Illustra- 
tions. (Macmillan.) A series of Parabolic 
Stories, or SermonH for Little Children, chiefly 
founded upon the ideas of Our Lord's Para- 
bles. Very charming in their simplicity, and 
most wise andholy in tbdr lessons. — The Kiiig't 
Serr/tnta. By Hesba Stketton. (Henry S, 
King and Co.) Pull of a very tender pathos, 
and of very braiutiful sentiment. The old wid- 
ow of tiio weaver tells the story of their love- 
struggles and faithfulness; her trials, tempta- 
tions, and victory. Tlie literary power and de- 
scriptive beauty of this little book are very 
Ct. It is worthy of the author of 'Jessica b 
t Prayer.'- iiVf/e Laddie. By the Author 
of ' Little Mother,' with twenty-four Illustra- 
tions by L. FrUWch.— Life of a Bear ; Hi» 
Birth, Education,and Adtoitiires. (Seeley's.) 
Two pretty little stories for juveniles of four or 
five. The type is clear and the illustrations 
good. Herr FrOlich's sepia style is well 
known to readers of ' Little Bosy's Travels.' 
Perky little Johnny will be a favourite. — The 
Beef, and other ParaMes. By Edwakd IIemiv 
BicxBKSTETH. (Sampson Low.) A series of 



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Ib74. 

pleasant and su|zgeetive parabolic xtorieB. The 
first, for example, nimtes hotr a boy roming 
about in a forbidden boat drifted atraj to a 
reef, whence he was rescued by a pilot when on 
the point of being drowned. The pilot is €hrist, 
rescuing sinful men. The paraljle, however, U 
pointed storywiac, not sermonwise. Its mean- 
ing is elicited in a dial<^ue. A tender, earnest 
spirit breathes through these apolopjies. They 
arc plemtant Sunday afternoon reading. — Janet 
Daraey-t Story; n Tale of FUher-life in 
Chale Bay. By Sabah BonDSET. (Beligious 
Tract Society.) A touching, well-told tale of 
fleher-life, with all its peri^ its romance, and 
its large humsn-hewtedness ; beautifully illus- 
trated with delicate woodcuts of cliff and cavern 
andsea. — Waiting forn Croien ; or, thtfCarly 
Tears of King DaiiUl. By the Author of 
' Hetty's ResoWo.' With Twenty-six Illustra- 
tions. (Seeley's.) The story of David's life is 
here told in a well-arranged and continuous 
narmtive, from hiH anointing by Samuel as the 
shepherd hoy of Bethlchen>, through all the ti- 
cissitudes which brought him in allcr years to 
the kingdom and the crown. — Ehie'r Choke : a 
Story. By tho Author of 'May'a Garden.' 
AVith Eight Illustrations. (Seeley's.) Strawi- 
berry Bunt; or. Home from India,. With 
Eight Coloured Illustrations. (Soeley'.«.) 
Both of these stories will And favour with our 
young friends, because they give vivid pictures 
of child- life, with its varied sorrows and joys, 
its naughtinesses and retributions, and with all 
its funny, delightful contrivances for doing lit- 
■tle mischiefs without evil intention, sometimes 
even under the delusion that its deeds are mer- 
itorious. 'Honio from India' will be the more 
poptilarof tho two, especially with juveniles. It 
comes from the same graceful pen as ' Busy 
Bee,' anilshows the same entire comprehension 
ttt, and sympathy with, child-nature. lis illus- 
trationsarebrilliantr.— 7'^ Jft<bo/«Ae VnlUy. 
By AnHRS Gibeknb. (Seeley's.) We like this 
less. It is the story of a gentle girl who, de- 
prived of her mother by the results of a rail- 
way collision, is cast upon the care of a scep- 
tical uncle, and hence we are treated to many 
of the doubts so rife in these days of unrest 
concerning the authority of the Bible, the way 
of salvation, the value and efBcacy of prayer, 
and other vital questions which should not, we 
think, be suggested to youthful story readers. 
The book is doubtless written with high aim, 
but we fear it may raise spectres that it will be 
powerless to lay. — Vhian and hU Friendi ; 
or. Tiro Hundred Yeart Ago. Bv GEOKoe E. 
Sangent. (Religious Tract Society.) This 
Btory takes us back to the days of the Common- 
wealth, and to the scenes of tliose stormy times 
which intervened between the rule of Crom- 
well and the Revolution of 1688. Charles Vi- 
vian, the central figure of the tatc, is brought 
into contact with John Milton, Philip Henry, 
John Bunyan, and othere who are represented 
as aiding his spiritual pn^ess by their coun- 
selx and experience. The devastations of the 
Plague and of the great Fire of London are 
sketched with some power. Wethink itwould 
have been better if the events had been left to 
speak their own moral, and much of sermoniz- 



Contentporary Lilerature 



165 

ing had been spared. — The Houte of Bandage. 
ByJ Emma Jakb Worboise. (Clarke and Co.) 
' The House of Bondage ' seems to represent in 
the mind of our authoress any and every varie- 
ty of narrow view, whether doctrinal, ecclesias- 
tical, or social. The high Calvinist, tho Ritual- 
ist, and the extreme Evangelical are alike en- 
closed in her 'Hoiisie of Bondage;' and not less 
so areall those people who,having made stripgent 
laws unto themselves on every conceivable sub- 
ject, can allow no one to take any stand-point 
save that which they ticcupy, nor to see any 
my of light or tinge of colour save through 
their eyes. Miss Worhnisc introduces us to a 
perplexing number of characters, who are in all 
manner of ways shut up in houses of bondage, 
but by a vaiiety of contrivances and influences 
f he succeeds at length in bringing many of them 
out into a broad place, (four readers wish to 
see how these deliverances are effected, we 
must refer them to the manifold incidents, the 
lengthy discussions, and the homiletic exhor- 
tations with which these piges teem. — Ues.srs. 
Smith and Elder have opportunely reprinted 
tar Christmas lime Thackeray's famous bur- 
lesque of (he Rate and the Ring, with all the 
original illustrations. The book is as nearly as 
possible what the original was. We envy chil- 
dren who for tho first time will make acquaint- 
ance with Prince Giglio and Prince Bulbo. 
There is no resisting M. A. Titmarsh even in a 
burlesque. — Movntnin. Meadow, and Mere; A 
Seriet of Outr/bor Sieteh^ of Sport, Sealery, • 
Adventure, and Natural Jlintory. By G. 
Ciiristopheh Davjeb, with Sixteen 111 ustriti on s. 
(Henry S. King and Co.) Country boys will 
delight in this book. It is a ettrjes of spirited 
sketches contributed to the Field and other 
magazines, al>out fishing, shooting, bunting. 
The descriptive parU are good, and the vignette 
illustrations fairly done, the two or three 
caricatures especially, — FaUn and Fandea. 
By Beata Fkamcis. (\V. Isbister and 
Co.) There is a good deal of ingenious 
fancy in the fables. The 'Pink Cat' is an 
amusing apologue, full of sly humour and sub- 
tle Eu^estioDS. Miss Francis has a partiality 
for cat-nature. Two or three of her sketches 
turn upon it. — FantanHc Stories. By RicnARD 
Lbandbr. Translated by Paulina B. Granville. 
(Henry S. King and Co.) Mr. Leander tells us 
that these dream-fancies beguiled tho dreary 
siege of Paris ^ that he sent them home by the 
fteld-post as thoy were created, to his children 
in tlie German Fatherland, and found on hisre- 
tiim home that they had grown to a volume. 
A graceful and ingenious fancy rnns through 
them all. Tho visit of George to Dream Land, 
his marriage,' and invisible kingdom, is very 
clever. It is a charming book of airy fancies. 
— SybW* Friend, and/une She Fovnd Him. By 
Florencb Marrtat. iRoutledge.) A simple 
and patheUc story of a little orphan girl, whose 
father died in India, and who fell into unfeeling 
and cruel hands during the voy^e to England ; 
who was taught about Jesus by Mr. Williams, 
a missionary, and who found a kind and loving 
home with her grandmother in London. The 
prominent feature of the story is the harsh 
crueltv of Mrs. Barlow and Mrs. Hawkins. — 



oo^Ie 



Contemporary Literature. 



Jan. 



Teli Mamma. By the ftuthor of 'A Trap to 
Catch a Sunbeam.' (Routledge.) This is not 
so juvenile a book as its title would indicate. 
It \a a story of two fatniliea of young girls, and 
iUustrtitos by contrasts the misfortune of want 
of confidence, especially in love aflairs, between 
motlicrs and daughters. — Blanche anil Btrgl, 
or tht Two Sides of Life. By Hadaub db 
Stolz. (Routledge.) A pleasant French 
Htory, illustrating the importance of tempera- 
ment in life. Blanche is the optimiBt, Beryl the 
pessimist They pass through Ticissitudes of 
fortune and feeling, and optimism has the best 
of iU It is comforting to add, however, that 
pessimism is cured, and Beryl becomes a first- 
rate aunt. — InU'uName; A Story '/ the Dark 
Age*. By Edward E. Bale. (Sampson Low.) 
A story of Lyons, of the time of Peter Waldo, 
the heroine being the daughter of his brother 
Jean, who accidentally swallowed a decoction 
of poisonous herbs. She is saved by the skill 
of one of the Reformers. ' In Hia Name ' is 
their password, and the story recites incidents 
illustrative of its social power. — AtSehool iri(A 
an. Old Dragoon. By Stephen J. MacKenna. 
(Henry S. King.) Captain Blunt, the disin- 
herited son of a good family, who. has greatly 
distinguished himself in liis profession, keeps 
an academy for youths intended for tho servi- 
ces, and engages Ur. Orme as hia mathematical 
teacher. Captain Blunt is a generous, noble- 
hearted old soldier, and in the jolly evenings of 
the establishment, he tells the dozen military 
stories here set down. They are well written, 
and have a pleasant freshness of incident and 
trutli about them. One of the longest, 'The 
Captain's Baptism of Fire,' narrates the Cap- 
Iain's own early military experience with tlie 
British Lc^on under Sir Lacy de Evans, in 
Spain. The stories relate military expcrioncos 
in many parts of the world. — Pieturea of Scliool 
Life amt Boyhnod. Selected from the best 
authors, and Edited by Psiicr FrrzGBRALD. 
(Cassell's.) Sketches of school lite, French 
and English, from works like 'Tom Brown's 
Schooldays,' ' E>ic,' Franklin's ' Autobiogra- 
phy,' Hugh Miller's ' My Schools and School- 
masters,' and other works treating of school- 
boy experiences, set in an appropriate editorial 
framework, Sir George Linden being the reader. 
One or two of the readings are original. The 
idea is a good one, and the volume ver^ inte- 
resting. — iiildieri an*/ BercanUinf Chnat ; or, 
CAaplem on Church Hintory. By Anna Leb* 
RKR. (Nisbet and Co.) A series of sketches 
intended to exhibit to young people the more 
important epochs of the history of the Chris- 
tian Church. Thejr are in the form of short 
stories, and dramatically exhibit Various epochs 
from Uie days of the Apostles to the lime of 
tho English Reformation. The book has already 
reached a second edition. The sketches are care- 
fully done, and will interest young people. — 
Una'* Choice. By J. Hinoston Waebbam. 

£>hnF. Shaw.) A story of Irish religious life 
ring tho civil war. about a century after the 
Reformation. It is intended to exhibit, through 
the trials of an individual life, the evil spirit of 
Popery, and theactual state of things when Paul 
Jones besieged Dublin and the Marquis of Or- 



monde was trying in.vam to save Ireland for 
Charles ; and when the army of Cromwell har- 
ried the land, and Drogheda fell, after indescri- 
bable BuScnng. There isin ita little tendency 
to fine writing ; but the story is interesting and 
instructive, inasmuch as it- tells us of what is 
but little known. The character of Hugh, the 
faithful Romanist, is a noble one, and well 
drawn. — The A/riean Cruiter : A Midthip- 
man't Adtentare on the West Coatl. By S. 
WniTCHDKCB Sadleb, R.N, (Henry S. King.) 
A narratjve of adventures on board her Majes- 
ty's gunboat Planet, an African cruiser em- 
ployed in the suppression of the slave trade. 
The stories of slavers chased, of vessels seiKsd, 
of attempted assassinations, and of perils of 
fighting and fever are exciting enough. Real 
adventure. is here, as at any time, a match for 
romance. — Maggie'* Mittuke ; A SchoolgirCt 
Story. By the .Author of 'Aunt Annie's Sto- 
ries.' With'il lustrations by L. Fkolicb. (See- 
ley's.) Maggie tells her own story ; she is an 
orphan brought up by Aunt Sophia, and sent 
to school 1 the story narrates her school expe- 
rience. She describes herself as a self-willed 
disagreeable child, and tho oflects which her 
self-will produced ; one of which was that ehe 
nearly lost her life. The story is a wholesome 
one, and well told.— ifrs. MiUntrariiig's Jour- 
nal. By Gmua Marshall. (Seeley's.) A 
very pleasant and tender journal of a mother's 
experiences written after the manner of ' Lady 
Wilioughhy's Diary.' It begins tho month 
after she was married. Mrs. Mainwaring is 
the wife of a lawyer in a county and cathedral 
town, who fills the office of registrar. Her bri- 
dal inexperiences, her religious life, her social 
relations, her maternal methods and feelings, 
and the marrying and giving in marriage of her 
children, and then her own golden wedding day, 
are simply and charmingly told. The quietness 
of it is relieved by the account of a Are. The 
book is full of goodness and wisdom. — T/ia 
Early Heroet of the Temperance Reformation. 
By William Loiia:^ (Scottish Temperance 
League.) Mr. Logan here chronicles the zeal 
and self-sacriflce of some of ihc noble men who 
have by their own total abstinence sought to, 
redeem men from the vice of drunkenness. 
Lyman Beecher, of the United States — (why 
is Mr. Gough oniittwi ?), John Dunlop, William 
Collins, Joseph Livesey, Robert Gray Mason, 
Edward Morris, Robert Kettle, William Martin, 
Father Matthew, and others not much known 
to fame, but full of moral heroism, and to bo 
held in honour, whether their principle of re- 
formation be accepted or not. — Home Life in 
the Highland*. By Lilian Grxme. (Griffith 
and Farren.) Very pleasant descriptions of 
Highland scenery and adventures, as experi- 
enced by Mr. Leycester's family, whom mis- 
fortune had overtaken, and whose cousin had 
lent them his shooting bos for tho summer ; 
there, in a pleasant circle of Highland lairds, 
the kirk minister, and others, they spent a plea- 
sant summer, and laid the foundations of fu- 
ture tender relationships.— fliK»(rn (erf Garnet 
of Patience. By Lady Adblaide Cadooak. 
(Sampson Low and Co.) Everybody knowK 
Uie game of ' Patience,' and the fascination for 



1874. 

even clever men thnt it often han. But few, 
perbsps knovr that tho game maf be inflnitelj 
diTersifted Lady Cadogan here gives ub de- 
acriptions, rules, and diagramn of twentj-fnur 
Tariclies. The diagnuno arc coloured, and tho 
book is well got up. It will be a great boon to 
young folk, especially to the one aolilary child 
who is at a loss for games at which one alone 
can play. 



1 1 i.4 impossible to characterize the multitudi- 
nous serials tliat come under our notice. And 
yet their influence in the education of all class- 
es of the nation is so great that it probably 
furpasKcs even that of books. There is per- 
haps an excess of fiction to which even grave 
religious periodicals contribute. Novels, good, 
had, and indifferent are poured forth almost dai- 
ly ,'and are devoured with an almost morbid ap- 
petil«. But it is a question how far ibis is for 
good or for evil. H^pily, with very few excep- 
tions, these Actions are wbolesonio in character 
— many of them are most potent teachers of 
virtue, nobleness, and religion— and possibly if 
they were not read nothing else would be. The 
enormous circulation of some of the perindicals 
of the day represents, no doubt, a vast literary 
gain upon the days of our fathers Better 
read fiction than not read at all. Perhaps the 
clearest gain is the popular and attractive 
fonns in nhich the most solid information is 
given. No one can turn over the pages of the 
score or tito volumes which lie befDrc ns, with- 
out being impressed with the vast amount of 
roost important instruction on almost every 
useful and saentiRc subject which week by 
week is sent into our homes. It would be dif- 
ficult to over-estimate the educational influences 
which in this way serial literature is exercising. 
We cannot do better service than direct atten- 
tion to such as have come under our notice. 

The Art Journal, 1873. (Virtue and Co.) 
At the head of English serials, and so fir as 
wo know of tho serial literature of Europe, is 
the AH Journal, which, for nearly forty years, 
has produced monthly, not only a record of alt 
tbat is best in British art, but engravings of a 
very high class, criticisms of artistic works by 
accomplished scholars, ami picturesque descrip- 
tions of monumental art by learned antiquari- 
ans and artists, constituting a cyclopeedia and 
chronicle of artistic matteri^, which to art stu- 
dents is simply invaluable ; while the volumes 
have long been rect^nlEed as the chief and 
most instructive adornment of the drawing 
room table. The unconscious art education 
which families receive from them is hardly to 
be exaggerated. The chief features of the pre- 
Rent volume are ' Halls and Castles of the Dee,' 
by Dean Howson and A. Rimmer ; various pa- 
pers on the Exhibition at Vienna in its art as- 
pects ; ' Life on the Upper Thames,' bv H. It. 
Robertson ; ' Art in the Belfry,' by Llewellyn 
Jewitt ; < Venetian Painters,' by W. B. Scott ; 



Contemporary LUeratttre. 



161 

'Chapters towards a History of Ornamental 
Art,' by P. Edward llulme ; ' Marine Contribu- 
tions to Art,' by P. L. Simmonds; with art 
notices of the Exhibition of the year, obituary 
notices, criticisms of great pictures, &c. Tho 
principal engravings are J. C, Horsley's ' De- 
tected,' Pinwell's 'Strolling Player,' Miller's 
' Ariel,' Wood's ' Juliet in the Cell of Father 
Lawrence,' Linnell's * Tho Nest,' Paid Veronese 
' Venice Triumphant,' Qilbert's ' Shylock alttr 
the Trial.' Each number containing three 
highly finished engravings. No English mid- 
dle-class home should be without the Art Javr- 
nal. — The Fine Art Annual is the second 
Christmas numl>er of the Art Journal. In ad- 
dition to two fine futl-paged engravings, ' The 
Syren,' by J. E. Middleton-r-the painter of 
' Effle Deans in Prison,' and ' The ■ Yellow 
Haired Laddie,' by G. J. Hay, it contains 
' Thoroughbred ' — a well told story by Ed- 
mund Yates, sketching life in a Government 
offlco and in California, and showing how a 
London eiqiiisito was transformed by the 
power of love. Mr. William B, Scott contri- 
butes a paper on tlio Pictorial representaliong 
of SL Christopher ; Mr. Simcox a poem entitled 
* Bonna and Brunoro; ' Mrs. Cashcl Hocy a 
.itory entitled ' Ralph's Silver WiiiBtle;' Tom 
Hood a kind of poetical fable entitled 'The 
Druids ; ' S. Gonlon a Morality, ' One Christ- 
mas Eve bv the Light of the Fire;' Mr. 
Knalchbull-l{ngcssen ' Tho Fairy Oak ; ' Rev. 
J. AlUnson Picton a ' Lq^nd of the Hartc 
Mountains;' M. Gounod 'Music to an Old 
Ballad ; ' Dr. J, C. Lynch, a ' Parlour Play," 
Jbc It is a pleasant miscellany of clever and 
characteristic things. Messrs. Caseell, Petter, 
and Galpin deservedly take the first place, for 
the abundance and excellence of their popular 
serial publication. — The two magazines, the 
Quiver, and CanelCi Magazine, differ chiefly 
in the religious element introduced into tho 
former. A series of able practical relif>)ou3 pa- 
pers, sermons, essays, and scriptural lessons 
make it a valuable Sunday companion ; only 
the couple of novels that are ' run ' with them 
would be a sore temptation to young readers. 
The serial stories through the year have 
been Mr. Hope's ' Three Homes ; ' Patsy'a 
' First Glimpse of Heaven ; ' ' Jeanle Herring'a 
Truth will out;' Alton Clyde's 'Better than 
Gold:' and 'Queen Madge.' The stories in 
Caster* Magazine have been F. W. Robinson's 
'Little Kate Kirby;' Hesba Stretton's 'The 
Doctor's Dilemma ; ' ' The Miller of Scawtoii 
Dale ; ' by tho author of ' Gilbert Ru^e ; ' ' A 
Campaign in Kahylia,' by MM. Erckinann- 
Chatrian. Both magazines have the usual as- 
nnrtment of capital papers on all sorts of 
\i\a^>..—LiUle Folki, as its title implies, is a 
.serial for children, and is in every respect 
most admirable ; tlie best, wo think, of its 
claiw, — Illuttrattd TrateU : a fieeord of 
DitoiMTt/, Geography, and Adtenture. Edited 
by H. W. Bates, Assistant-Secretary of the 
Royal Geographical Society. With engravinga 
from original drawings by celebrated artists. 
Few books reach us that are more welcome 
than the annual volume' of ' Illustrated Travels.' 
It is an album for the minor record:i of travel- 



Contempcn-an/ Literature. 



108 

ling achieve [jietitB and adventure, and is full of 
interest and instruction. The pnpers are gene- 
rally short ; the longer accounts being divided 
into portions. As specimens of thn contents of 
the present volume we may mention — Half k 
dozen papers on Eastern Itussia, by Mr. K. 
Mitchell, F.R.G.S. ; eight very interesting pa- 
pers on Japan and the Japanese by the Rev. J. 
Summers ; four on Norway by Frank Usher ; 
three, giving an account of an Austialian 
Search Party by ClmrleH irenry Eden ; tliree, 
on the French Exploration in 1860 of Cambo- 
dia and Indo-China ; three, giving an account 
of a year's tramp in Colorado ; three on Cra- 
cow and the Salt Mines of Wielieza by George 
Gladstone, F.R.O.S. ; three, giving an account 
of a Captivity by the Honduras Indians ; tiiree 
on Rajpootana by LieuL C. R, Low ; three of 
Recollections of Spanish Travel by Mrs. F. \V, 
Holland ; vrith a great variety of other papers 
narrating travelling achievements and adven- 
tures in Ceylon, Itaratonga, Borneo, China, the 
Himalayas, Honolulu, Jynleealand, lladngascar, 
Persia, Peru, Ac The narratives are popular 
and full of information, and the illustrations 
are profuse. For boys the book is unsurpassed. 
— Th« Popular Educator is reissued, revised 
to the present date. It is a senes of scientific 
papers, usually by distinguished men, on al- 
most every subject bclongmg to a good educa- 
tion, from arithmetic to voltaic electricity; 
thousands of young men must find it an inva. 
luable manual. — The Popular Retreator per- 
forms the same function for amusements. It 
contains papers on all sorts of games in the 
field, in the playground, and Uio home, explain- 
ing their principles and rules. Perhaps the 
most notable of Hessrs, Cassell'a enterprises 
during the year has been the publication of the 
first volume of TKe Sible Educator, vrhich pro- 
mises to be one of the most useful and impor- 
tant of their popular works. It is a miscellany 
of paperx on subjects connected with the Bible, 
such as the literature of the Sacred Books, the 
Exegesis of difficult passages, Geography, Bio- 
graphy, History, Zoology, Botany, Ethnology, 
llusic, Prophecy, Inspirolion, Ac, all treated 
in a popular way by some of the ablest sciiolars 
of (ho day. The editor. Professor Plutnptre, 
lias gathered round him a staff of contributorH 
equal to that of any of tho more pretentious 
Biblical Dictionaries, the names of Dr. Payne 
Smith, the Rev. Stanley Leatlies, Professor 
Milligan, Dr. Hanna, Rev. F. Houlton, Rev. J. 
6. Heard, Ac, are a sufficient guarantee of re- 
search, learning, and excellence. Soma of the 
papers are almost exhaustive essays. We do 
not, for example, remember to have read a wis- 
er and more able treatise than that of Dr. Far- 
rer on ' Inspiration.' For families and Sunday- 
school teachers it will be a mine of riches. — 
The JUiutraled SUtory of the War, hetieeea 
France and Germany, is completed with the 
twenty-fourth part. It is a popular narrative 
carefully gathered from newspapers and other 
available sources of information, carefully and 
soberly written, and profusely illustraled. By 
far the best hitherto published. — Britith Bat- 
tle* oii Land and .tilea, by James Guant, Author 
of ' The Romance of SVar,' is a popular account 



Jan. 



of the chief battles in English History, also 
profusely illustnatod. We are a little doubtful 
about the feeling to which such recitals appeal; 
we have no wish that our boys shall be in- 
flamed with the war spirit; and yet tlie ro- 
:d of these narratives is such that few boys 
■esist their attraction. — Old and Nea Loa- 
Illustrated. Vol. I, A Narrative of its 
History ; its People and its Places. By Wai.- 
TEH TuoKNBUKT — appeals to a very different 
ig. Wo are glad to find by the unfailing 
test of the school-room that the romance of the 
City is as attractive as the romance of the Bat- 
tle Field. Mr. Thornbury tells his story in an 
attractive manner, especially the episodes of 
history and the anecdotes of personages, which 
are so plentiful in it.— Tho Bacee of^ Hantiad. 
Vol. I. Being a popular description of the 
Characteristics, Manners, and Customs of tho 
Principal Varieties of tlie Human Family- By 
RoBGKT BHOwii, M.A., &c., President of tho 
Royal Physical Society, Edinbui^h. Tho title 
of this work BuiBciently indicates its character, 
and the name of its author exemplifies the 
practice of Messrs. Cassell to employ in their 
most popular work the best scienliQc authori- 
ties ihat they can procure The Physical His- 
tory of Mankind is of increasing scientific and 
theological interest in connection with the com- 
mon origin of the race. Dr. Brown's work is 
equally lucid, interesting, and trustworthy. — 
7Ae Book of the Horae. By S. Sionev, Mana- 
ger of the Islington Horse Show. The author 
expounds everything connected with horsei', 
carriages, and their management, that for both 
scientific and practical uses their keepers can 
need to know. All kinds of carriages are 
described ; coachmen, grooms, gardeners, £c., 
are discussed; the dillerent points of horses, 
and their various breeds are treated ; sketches 
are given, and anecdotes are told of the most 
liinious horse breeders. To all wiio have to do 
with horses it will be a valuable manual. — 
Messrs. J. Clarke and Co, 'a JIappy Ifours is a 
weekly journal of instruction and recreation 
containing Serial Stories, with Sections for 
Young Folks, Quiet Talks, tho Playhour, ic, 
with the usual miscellany of Sketches, Poetry, 
&C. The tone of the magazine is religious and 
bright. It contains much good reading. Mari- 
anne Farnineham is its presiding spirit. — The 
ChrUtian World Magaiine is a similar publica- 
tion appearing monthly under the editorial 
care of Emma Jane Worbolse. Her own stories 
appear in it Mrs. Hall (nc« Sibree) contri- 
butes a very charmingly written story of tho 
' Siege of Hull,' Miss Famingham ' Lessons in 
Patience.' It is not easy to discriminate in 
words the speciality of each magazine, but it is 
distinctly felt. Both are heartily to bo com- 
mended. — Messrs. Hodder and Slougbton, in the 
Preacher'i Lantern, Vol. HI., provide a valua- 
ble luisceltany of papers and sermons for preach- 
ers. The present volume contains a series of 
thoughtful papers on the ' Science of Faith,' 
and other subject*i,by Professor van Oosterzee ; 
another— racy, anecdotal and characteristic — 
'The Lantern Turned on the Preacher,' by Mr, 
Jacox ; another, on the ' Villages of the Bible,' 
, by the Rev. Faxton Hood. A series of outlines 



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1874. 

of sermons by ilic late Caleb Morris from Bome 
bearer's noto-book is also piven. The work is 
vigorous and wise. — The C/iri$tian Fumilg, a 
penny inontbly, is a useful lilllc iiiiscellnny of 
religious papers. Many churches liuve loca- 
lized it by having their oirn wrapper and 
church calendar printed for it — a wise and use- 
ful thing. The present volume contains some 
memorials of Sundays with tite Itcv. T. T. 
Lynch. — T/ie CongregatienalUt, edited by the 
Rev. R. 'W. Dale, contains some very able 
papers :— Series, on ' Relit;ioas Revivals ;' on the 
• Whole Armour of God,' by J. Baldwin Brown ; 
on 'Middle Class Education;' 'Ecclesiasiical 
Sketches of Notabilities in the Church' — 
singularly wise und nliie ; with niiscellaneous 
papers on theological. on decclosioslical suhjects. 
As the monthly organ of the Congregational ii!t 
Churches, it is in every way worthy of the 
principles that it advocates. Mcshtr. W. iHbis- 
terand Co.'s Oood Word» and Sundny Magiaint 
maintain their high excellence. Both ' run ' 
serials. Those of the former are ' The Prescotls 
of Pamphillon ' and 'Lady Bell.' Among the 
other papers are the very clever ' Fables for 
Young and Old,' by II. A. Pago ; Dr. Carpenter 
on the ' Uulf Stream' and on 'Spectrum Ann- 
lysis;' Dr. Tulloch on 'William the Silent;' 
Canon Kingsley's ' Winter in the Rocky Moun- 
tains' and 'Spring in Mexico;' and Augustus 
Haro's ' Pictures of Italian Life.' Those of the 
Buadny Magntint arc ' Ciooked PIhccs,' by 
Edward Garrett ; ' ' In Reformation Times,' by 
Iho autlior of ' Papers for Thoughtful Girts ; ' 
' Against the Stream,' by the author of ' The 
Sehanberg-Cotta Family ■ ' ' Our Dtstrict,{ by a 
River-side Visitor, with a miscellany of solid 
and attractive papers for Sundny reading.— 
Messrs. Henry S. King and Co. have fulftllcd 
their promise in the Day of Heiil, which, 
throughout the year, has matnlained a high 
level of ihonghtful and interesting religious 
papers, and is not inferior to the be»^t of the 
older serials. Perhaps the most notable series 
ft papers is *To Home and Back, by one wlio 
has tnado tite journey ' (Rev. J. M. Capes). 



Contemporary Literature. 



161 



All the papers are religious. Among the con- 
tributors are the Rev. Dr. Vaughan, the Rev. 
T. Binney, the Rev. S. Cox, Hesba Strotton, 
4c. — 0<fad Thingt f'tr the Young of all Ages, 
edited by George Maclonald, is a singularly 
rich and handsome volume, aiming at some- 
thing higher than mere amusement, and very 
successfully investing useful information with 
the fascinntion of romance. Its chief features 



his While Mice,' which runs through the 

volume ; a series of * Little Lectures on Com- 
mon Things about Ourselves,' by Emily Coul- 
den, which gives clever, expositions of our phy- 
siological structure ; William Gilbert, under 
the gui^e of fairy stories told by Hassan, en- 
titled 'Sindbad m England,' ingeniously tells 
some of the fairy talcs of modern sdcnce. 
Clever little sketches, stories, riddles, poems, 
&a., fill this charming volume, and make it a 
wonderful cyclopiedia of amusing wisdom for 
little folks and their eldem — Tlie Religious 
Tract Society continue the LeUare Hour, and 
the Sunday at Home. Both arc to be com- 
mended for the tact with which the editor se- 
lects their diversified contents, and maintains 
their great excellence. All classes of i-eaders 
arc catered for, and scarcely anything ia pro- 
vided that is not good. Bic^raphies, Railways, 
Travels, ^English labourers, Natural history. 
Sermons, Poems, Serial stories, by their profu- 
sion and' goodness, balHe spec ili cation. — Tlie 
Child't Companiua is a liltio miscellany for 
very little children. — JlesM's. James Clarke and 
Co., in the CArw/iun World Pulpit, furnish a 
weekly supply of contemporary i^crmons often 
of high excellence. Mr. Ward Beecher's week- 
ly Plymouth sermon is regularly reproduced. 
— The Literary World is a weekly miscellany 
of reviews and extracts from the principal new 
books, done with great care and ability, suf8- 
ciently critical to be a guide to book purchasers, 
and EuSciently popular to be independently 
interesting. 



.dbyGoogle 



awGoOgIc 



BRITISH QUARTERLY REVIEW, 



FOR APRIL, 



Art. L — Authors and Publishers. 

Archibald Constable and his Literary 
Correspondents : A Menwrial. Bj his 
Son, Thovab Constable. Three vole. 
Edinburgh. 1873. 

Thb publication of tie literary correapon- 
dence of Archibald Constable, the great 
Edinbnmh bookseller — ' Hannibal Consta- 
ble,' as Leydeo called him with pride ; ' the 
grand Napoleon of the realms of print,' as 
Scott dubbed him in jest ; ' the prince of 
booksellers,' as James Mill salated him in 
a]) sincerity — reopens an interesting chapter 
in the literary history of the last generation. 
Constable's career was closely connected with 
the starting of a new era in our literature, 
regarded both as a profession and as a trade. 
Of the chief men who took part in this 
movement, either as authors or as publish- 
ers, these volumes afford many interesting 
notices — of some only tantalizing glimpses, 
of others full and satisfying details. The 
work owes its value in this respect, not 
merely to Constable's position as a leading 
publisher, with a wide connection among the 
foremost literary men and women of his 
time, but also to Constable's character as a 
man, which was such as te command confi- 
dence and provoke friendship, far beyond 
the ordinary range of business relations. 

Before going Sirther, we are bound to ac- 
knowledge the fairness, delicacy, and tact, as 
weU as to commend the literaiy skill, with 
which, in these volames, Constable's son has 
diBcha^ed a difficult and, in some respects, 
a punfu task. He has nothing extenuated, 
nor aught set down in malice, though the 
provocation to transgress in both directions, 

TOL. LIX. B — 12 



when we remember Lockhart's gross misre- 
presentations and rude ridicule, to say no- 
thing of Campbell's sneers, was by no means 
small. In conDcctiou with the history of 
the Scott-Ballantyne failure in parlicnlar, the 
biographer might fairly have clamed for 
himself considerable licence of vituperation. 
Bnt he has, as wisely as courageously, re- 
sisted this temptation, and has confined 
himself almost exclusively to stating facta 
and quoting documents, leaving it to his 
readers to make the legitimate deductions 
aud animadversions. Tne result is such a 
portrait of Archibald Constable, the man 
and the publisher, as does justice at once to 
the integrity of the father and to the fideli- 
ty of the son, and as satisfies the expectationa 
both of the student of literary history and of 
the student of human nature. Indirectly, 
literature owes this man a very great debt of 
latitude. Sir James Mackintosh, writing 
to him in sympathetic terms after the great 
crash of 1826, says, 'Ton have done more 
to promote the interest of literature than any 
man who has been engaged in the commerce 
of books.' (vol. ii. p. 378). He first set the 
fashion of enlightened liberality towards 
authors, a fashion which his rivals were 
forced to follow. He stimulated the public 
taste for pure and sound literature ; and he 
was the first to show how works of the high- 
est class might be bronght within the reach 
of the masses, without fear or risk of failure. 
Then, in order to realize the extent of his di- 
rect services to literature, and to freedom of 
tliongbt, we have only to remember that he 
was the first publisher of the Edinburgh 
Jieviev), that he infused new life into Ui» 
MitcycUipadia Britanniea, that through him 
Scott's poems, most of lus novels, and the 



dovGoogIc 



Authors and IhtblUkers, 






beat of his miscellaneons worlts, were given 
to the world, and that his Miscellany was, 
as his biographer says, < uadonbtedly the 
pioneer and suggester of all the various " li- 
Draries" which sprang up in ita wake.' It 
is interesting to find in the memoir abnn- 
dant proof that the great bootcseller was also 
a good and eatimabfo man — good in all the 
relations of life — a loving husband, an affec- 
tionate and judicious parent, a fast and 
trusted friend. 

In one respect the plan of Constable's 
memoir is open to objection. It carries qs 
repeatedly over the same period of time, and 
forces us to traverse, over and over agtun, 
though in different company, the same 
groQud. The third volume, which is devot- 
ed to his connection with Sir Walter Scott, 
is to a great extent self-contained and self- 
explanatory. But, in the first and second 
volumes, each chapter deals with his connec- 
tion with one correspondent, or at most with 
three or four. Thus, in company with his 
partner A. G. Hunter, we traverse the years 
from 1803 to 1811. In the ne it chapter we 
return to 1803, and go on with Tom Camp- 
bell to 1610. John Leyden brings us bacK 
ag^n to 1800, and we advance in his plea- 
sant company to 1808. The account of 
Alexander Murray, the Orientalist, — a mono- 
graph, let it bo said in passing, of rare lit«. 
rary and personal interest, a portrait of a 
sterling, bard-beaded, independent, and 
witha) modestScot — carries us back to 1794, 
and forward to 1812. Nor is this all ; the 
, same topics tnrn up again and again in dif- 
ferent connections. To take but one ex- 
- ample, Constable's quarrel with Longman is 
mentioned first in the general account of the 
Edinburgh Review (vol, i, p. 55), It comes 
up again in the chapter on A. G. Hunter 
(vol, i. p. 79) ; once more, in treating of his 
dealings with John Murray (vol, i, p, 338) ; 
and yet again in describing his competition 
with Murray, and with Longman, for the 
patron^e of Sir Walter Scott (vol, iiu p, 
32) : and so with not a few other important 
it«ms. 

The method of the work has no doubt 
some advantages. In particular, it gives 
completeness and individuality to the de- 
scriptions of the separate correspondents ; 
but this completeness of the parts Is gained 
at a sacrifice of the unity and harmony of 
the whole. It makes the work analytic in- 
stead of synthetic, which such a work ought 
expressly to be. It presents us with a series 
of cabinet portraits, instead of with a histo- 
rical picture. It fnrniHhes the materials for 
such a picture b abnndance ; but it leaves 
the grouping aud arranging — in a word the 
' synthesis — to be done by the reader, and 



that at a considerable expenditure of trouble, 
and vrith no little risk of error and miscon- 
struction. But when every deduction has 
been made, on this or any score, the work 
must be admitted to be a sterling one ; and, 
as lAhnoira pour aervir, it cann«t fail to be 
of the highest value to the student of modem 
literature and of modern society. 

The wort, however, has much wider 
bearings than those on the literature of the 
present century to which we have rrferred. 
It suggests a comparative inquiry, of great 
interest and value, into the relations which 
have subsisted, at different periods in the 
history of literature, between authors and 
publishers, or rather between authors on the 
one hand, and publishers and the public on 
the other. Sir Walter Scott says in his 

Life of Dryden,' ' That literature is ill-re- 
compensed is usually rather the fault of the 
public than of the booksellers, whose trade 
can only exist by buying that which can bo 
sold to advantage. The trader who pur- 
chased the "PMadise Lost" for £10 nad 
probably no very good bargain," Cu- 
riously enough, this quotation enables us to 
bring together extremes of literary remune- 
ration which are ' wide as the poles asunder ;' 
for in the same year in which Scott wrote 
these words, he himself received from Con- 
stable £l,000 for the copyright of < Marmi- 
on,' a price which, we believe, did not turn 
oaf to the disadvant^e of the bookseller. 
We may therefore safely conclude, that 
when Scott alluded as above to ' Paradise 
Lost,' he did not refer to the intrinsic merit 
of Milton's immortal epic, but only to the 
conditions of popalar taste, and commercial 
demand, under which it was produced, 
Scott's words make it plain that three fac- 
tors have to be taken into account in w- 
praising literary property — the labour of the 
author in producing his work, the desire of 
the public to possess it, and the risk of the 
publisher as a go-between in bringing the 
author and the public into contact 

Id the earliest stages of literature there 
were no publishers in the modem sense, and 
there was scarcely any public. Before the 
introduction of printing the manner of pub- 
lishing a book was to have it read on three 
days aucceBsively before one of the universa- 
ties or some other recognised authority. If 
it met with approbation, copies of it were 
then permitted to be made by monks, acribes, 

illuminators, and readers, — men who were 
specially trained in the art, and who derived 
from it their mdntenance. It does not ap- 
pear that any portion of their gains waa 



• ' Tbo Works of John Dryden, with Notes. 
kc, and a Dfa of tbe Author.' By Walter 
Scot), Esq. Vo). 1., p. 893. Edinbargk : 1808. 



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1874. 



Authors and Publishers, 



173 



transferred to tbc author. He did not look 
for rcmnn oration in money for his literary 
labour. He fonnd it, partly in fame, bat 
obiefly in his appointment to some post, 
more or less lucrative, in Church or in State. 
Frequently anthers became simply tlio pen- 
sioners of the great and noble, by whom no 
official services were eipected, Chaucer ap- 
pears to have been rewarded in both ways ; 
at one time he was a pensioner-yeoman of 
Edward III,, at another he was employed 
to hire ships for the ting's service. At 
various times in his career he held offices 
in the customs. A modem poet,* who spe- 
cially claims to call Chaucer ' master,' pic- 
tures for us — 
' The clear Tliames bordered b7 i(s gardens 

WliHo, nigh tbe thronged wharf, fleoffrsy 

Chaucer's pen 
Kloies over bills of lading.' 

In the very year in which he is believed to 
have written the 'Canterbury Tales' he was 
appointed clerk of the king's works at 
Windsor. Yet towards the close of his life 
lie seems to have been wholly dependent on 
his royal pensions and grants of wine. Thns 
there sprang, almost necessarily we may say, 
out of the primary condition of authors, that 
vile system of patronage which kept men of 
letters in a position of bondage for upwards 
of three centuries after our regular literature 
began. 

The introdnctiou of printing made but 
little difference to authors. It ere long did 
away with the university censorship ; but 
books were so dear they were within reach 
of the means only of the very wealthy, on 
whose bounty, therefore, authors were still 
dependent ; and very wretched was their lot. 
' Rhetoric,' says Burton, in his ' Anatomy 
of Melancbolie,' ' only serves them to cnrae 
their bad fortunes ; and many of them, for 
want of means, are driven to hard shifts. 
From grassboppere tbey turn humble bees 
and wasps — plam parasites — and make the 
musts mules, to satisfy their hunger-starved 
families, and get a meal's meat' (a.d. IdSl). 

Spenser also has put on record his bitter 
feelings on the samie subject with special re- 
ference to the misery of hangen-on at court 
It is said that Qneen £Iizal)eth designed an 
annuity for Spenser, but that it was withheld 
by Burleigh. He received, however, from 
the queen a grant of Eilcolman Castle 
when he was secretary to Lord Grey in Ire- 
land ; but evidently this complaint is wmng 
from him by his own bitter experience^- 



• William Morris, In ' The Earthly Paradiso.' 



To lose good days that migLt be better spent ; 
To wnntn lonK nights in pensive discontent ; 
To Bpi«d to-day, to be put bnck to-morrow. 
To feetl on hope, to pine witli fear and sorrow ; 
To have lliy princess' grace, yet wantUer peers'; 
To Lava thy asking, yet wait many jeares ; 
To fret (hy soal with crossea and with care : 
To eat lliy heart with comfortless despair ; 
To fawn, to croucli, lo wait, to ride, to run ; 
To spend, to give, to want, to he undone.'* 

Authorship could scarcely be subjected to 
a greater humiliation than that of John 
Stowe, the historian, in whose favour James 
I. granted letters patent under the great seal, 
permitting him ' to ask, gather, and take the 
alms of ml our loving subjects.' Yet Stowe'a 
case differed from that of hundreds of his 
contemporaries and successors only in that 
he was moro honest than they. For while 
they were be^ars in di^uise, he was an 
avowed and properly licensed mendicant. 
Uis letters patent were read by the clergy 
from the pulpit in each parish which he vis- 
ited. Other authors prefixed their begging 
letters to their works, in the shape of fulsome 
and lying dedications. 

The dedication system naturally accom- 
panied that of patronage. It very soon 
underwent those wonderful- developments 
of which it waa evident from the first that 
it was canable. In the time of Qneen 
Elizabeth tne practice had come into fashion 
of dedicating a work, not to one patron, 
but to a number. Spenser, in spite of his 
horror of fawning, has prefixed to the 
' Faerie Queene ' serentoen dedicatory son- 
nets, the last of which opened a wide door 
to volunteer patronesses, being inscribed 
' To all the gratious and beantifull ladies in 
the court' Over and above these outer de- 
dications, he it remembered, the invocation 
with which the poem- opens is addressed to 
Queen Elizabeth herself, along with the sacred 
Muse, Venus, Oupid, and Mars. The queen 
is further typified in the Faerie Queene 
herself ; and to her the whole work is dedi- 
cated, presented, and consecrated, ' to live 
with the etemitie of her fame.' 

Fuller has introduced in bis ' Church His- 
tory ' twelve special title-pages besides the 
general one, each with aparticnlardedicatiou 
attached to it ; and he naa added upwards 
of fifty inscriptions to as many difierent ben- 
efactors, Joshua Sylvester, the translator 
of Du Bartas, carried the vice of dedica- 
tion to a still more ludicrous excess. In the 
collected edition of his works,f there are 
seventy separata dedications, in prose and 
verse, addressed to eighty-five separate in- 
dividuals. Sometimes one short poem is 



• From ' Fioeopopoia, or Mother Eabbard's 
rale.' 
f Polio, pp. 6S7, printed by B. Immg in 1033. 

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Authors and Publishers, 



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dedicated to half-a-dozen "patrons. If the 
poet received the usual dedication fee from 
each, the speculation mast have been as 
profitable as it was ingenious.* The second 
book of the ' Divine Works ' contains fif- 
teen separate dedications. One instance of 
his flattery is unique in its barefaced com- 

firehensiveness. An ' el^ac epiatlo conso- 
atorie ' on the death of Sir William Syd- 
ney, U addressed to Lord aud Lady Lisle 
(Sydney's parents), to Sir Robert Sydney 
their son, to Lady Worth their daughter, 
' and to all the noble Sydneys and semi- 
Sydneys.' Surely the power of fawning 
could no further go I It is only to be hoped 
that it paid. 

Nothing, certainly, could be more degra- 
ding to authors ihan that their success 
should depend, not on their merit, but on 
their powers of sycophancy ; for it is un- 
questionable that the amonnt which a pa- 
tron bestowed varied with the amount of 
flattery pnblicly awarded to him. The 
terms of sdnlation became most extravagant 
in the period after tbe Restoration, when, ac- 
cording to Disraeli, the patron was often 
compared with, or even placed above, the 
Deity. Then the common price of a dedi- 
caljon varied from £20 to £W ; sometimes 
it was even more. After the Revolution the 
price fell to sums varying from five to ten 
guineas ; in the reign of George \. it rose 
^ain to twenty, but from that time the 
practice gradnaUy declined, as the book- 
sellers hecdmc more and more recognised as 
the patrons of letters. 

The fall of patronage, and of its concomi- 
tant, dedication, was hastened by the general 
adoption in the latter part of the seventeenth 
century of the method of publication by sub- 
scription. Before that, the booksellers were 
in the background. They were mere dealers 
in books. No opportunity was afforded them 
for enterprise. As soon, however, as sub- 
scription was introduced, the booksellers 
began to show themselves in the fronL 
SuDscribera represented to some extent the 

Sublic — a limited and adventitions public, 
oubtless — but still a much wider public 
than was possible under the patronage re- 
gime. Now with the public thus introduc- 
ed we hare present the most important of 
the three factors which go to make a free 
and pro^eroua national literature. There 
was then an inducement for anthore to do 
their best, and for publishers to cud them in 

* Even Sylveeter's iD^naitj was surpassed by 
tliat of an Italian plijHc'ian, of whom Disraeli 
tells us. Havins written ' Commentaries on the 
Apboristna of Ulppocrates,' he dedicated eacli 
booX of Lis commentaries to one of hie friends, 
and the index to another. 



advancing their interests. Authorship then 
became possible as a liberal profession, and 
publishing became, possible as an organized 
trade. It was a timid method of business, 
certainly, but it waa a vast improvement on 
the method which it came to supersede. It 
waa long before it accomplished much good, 
but it did accomplish lasting good in the 
end. In short, it was the transition stage 
from the system of patronage to the system 
of free and unfettered publication. 

In truth, however, subscription was, in the 
first instance, only a more extended kind of 
patronage ; and for a longtime the two me- 
thods continued to exist side by side. Of 
this a remarkable example is afforded in the 
case of Dryden, who seems, however, to 
have had a wonderful aptitude for combin- 
ing in his own experience all the methods 
of remunerating authorship in vogue in re- 
mote as well as in later times — ofiScial ap- 
pointments, royal pensions, dedication fees, 
subscriptions, and copy money. He waa 
poet laureate and histonographer royal ;* he 
was, besides, a special annuitant of Charles 
II. — to whom the whilom eulogist of Crom- 
well justifies his submis^on in the sorry cou- 
plet — 



and he was collector of customs in the port 
of London, as Chaucer had been three hun- 
dred years before. 

As r^ards dedication fees, it is notorious 
that no flattery was too fulsome, no depth of 
self-abasement too profound, for Dryden's 
mendicant spirit If the pay waa proportion- 
ate to the degree of adulation, he was cer- 
tainly entitled to the maximnra. He dedi- 
cated his translation of Virgil to three noble- 
men, with what Johnson calls ' an economy 
of flattery at once lavish and discreet' What 
this investment of praise yielded him we do 
not know ; hut in his letter of thanks to one 
patron (Lord Chesterfield), he characterizes 
bis lordship's donation as a ' noble present' 
The extraordinary feature in this case, how- 
ever, is, that in addition to dedication fees, 
Dryden received for his Viigil both subscrip- 
tions and copy money, llie copy money 
consisted certainly of £60 for every two books 



* Both offices still exist ; but it is ewtely time 
that sacli queetionable and often Invidloas dis- 
tinctions sLoald be abolished, or at least that 
the}' shoald be deprived of their eleemosjnarj 
character. Thanks to snch men as Archibald 
Constable, the men who deserve each lionourano 
longer need tlie paltry salaries attached to tliem. 
Mr. Venn^Bou liM effected thercduefio ad iibiur- 
dum of tlia laureateship. His salary is £200 a 
year; jet, if report sf^ks truly, Sis contract 
wltli bis pnbliehers yields him an annual return 
to be eetimated in thousands. 



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Avlhors and Publishers. 



175 



of tbe ' -ilneid,' and probabl? of the same 
sum for the ' Georgics' and tlie ' Pastorals. 
The plan of aiibscription was iagenionaly 
contrived so as to create s supplementary 
galaxy of patrons, each of whom waa pro- 
pitiated by what was in effect a special 
dedication. There were two, classes of siib- 
Bcribera. Those in the first class paid five 
guineas each ; those in the second class, two 
guineas. The inducement offered to the 
five guinea subacribers was that, in honour 
of OHcli of them, there should be inserted in 
the work an engraving, embellished at the 
foot with his coat of arms. The bait took 
wonderfully. There were in the end one 
hundred and two subscribers of five guineas, 
representing the sura of SlOguineas, which, 
calculating the guinea, aa Drjden did, at 
twenty nine shillings, amounted to £739 10s. 
Indeed, Dryden was a cunning speculator 
as well as a shrewd bargain -driver, as bis 
publisher found to his cost. According to 
Pope'a estimate, Dryden netted from his 
Virp! the sum of £1,200. . . 

The publication of that work was'tlie oc- 
casion of frequent bickcringti, and the inter- 
change of much strong language, between 
Drydeii and hia publisber, the famous Jacob 
TonsOB {Jacob L, for there were three of 
that name and dynasty). Dryden's standing 
complaint against Tonson is, that be pays 
him in bad coin. * Yon know,' he says, in 
one letter, ' money is now very scrupulously 
received ; in the last which you did me the 
favour to change for my wife, besides the 
clip'd money, there were at least forty shil- 
lings brass.' In another he says that, when 
the eighth '^£neid ' is finished, he eipects 
' £30 in good silver, not such as I have had 
formerly. I am not obliged to take gold, 
neither will I ; nor stay for it four-and- 
twenty hours after it is due.' In another, ' I 
lost thirty shillings, or more, by the last pay- 
ment of £50 which you made at blr. 
Knight's.' Throughout the correspondence, 
Dryden treats Tonson in tbe rudest and most 
bearish manner possible. He usually ad- 
di'esscs him abruptly as ' Mr. Tonson,' much 
as a gentleman might address his tmlor.* In 
what Scott calls a ' wrathful letter,' which, 
however, made no impression < OQ the mer- 
cantile obstinacy of Tonson,' he Bays, ' some 
kind of intercourse must be carried on be- 
twixt us while I am translating Virgil, . . 



• But tills WM not peculiar to Dryden. Twen- 
ty years later we find Steele addreisiiitf LSntot, 
and Popeaddresainf^'^otte, m precisely tlie same 
style.. See Carrather's ' Life of Pope.' pp. 89 — 
251. By way of contmat, it is noteworthy that 
Sir Waller Scott nsually addresses liis publisher 
as ' My dear Constable.' Such triflea are not in- 
■igoificant. 



You always intended I should get 
g by the second subscriptions, as I 
found from first to last ... I then 
told Mr. Congreve that I knew yoo too well 
to believe you meant me any kindness.' In 
yet another grumbling epistle, Dryden says, 
' upon trial I find all of your trade are 
sharpers, and you not more than others: 
therefore I have not wholly left you ; ' from 
all which it is evident that in Dryden's time 
the relations of publisher and author were 
still on a very unsatisfactory footing. ' 

Dryden died in the last year of the sev- 
enteenth century ; but, although at that 
very time the publishers, led by such men 
aa the Tonsons and Lintot, were consolidating 
the publishing trade, they were still in the 
leading-strings of subscription ; and daring 
the greater part of the eighteenth century, pa- 
trocage, with its correlative dedication, 
continued rampant. The world of lettere 
was still dominated by such princely patrons 
as Somers, Ilarley, and Halifax, who were 

' Fed with soft dedication all day long. ' 
This is all the more remarkable, since, at 
that very time, literature was making vigor- 
ous efforts to emancipate itself. Then pop- 
ular literature took its rise in Defoe's He- 
view and Steele's Toiler, and Steele and 
Addison's Spectator. No man ever stood 
out more determinedly as the enemy of pa- 
tronage than Richard Steele, and all honour 
be to him for his powerful testimony. But 
Steele could afford to be independent ; for 
he derived from his first wife the comforta- 
ble income of £670 a year. In the Toiler, 
he had boldly proclmmed his ambition ' to 
make our Incubrations come to some price in 
money, for ourraore convenient support in tie 
public sen-ice,' Yet Steele had, in 1707, 
accepted the office of Gazetteer, with a sal- 
ary raised by Harley from £60 to £300 a 
year ; and in 1716, he was made Surveyor 
of the Royal Stables at Hampton Court. 
Steele ridiculed patronage as a ' monstrous ' 
institution in the Spectator,* yet the first 
and second collected volumes of that serial 
were dedicated respectively to the arch-pa- 
trons, Lord Somers and Lord Halifax. This, 
however, may have been Addison's doing, 
who was the special fo8t«r-child of these no- 
blemen, and who lived from first to last by 
hia official employment John Locke, ac- 
cording to Lord Macaulay, 'owed opnlence 
to Somers;' and it waa at Locke's death 
that Addison, in reward of writing the ' Cam- 
paign,' obtained, through Halifax, the post 
of Commissioner of Appeal in the Excise, 
which Locke had vacated. He received for 

• See No. dxxxTlU. 



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Authors and Publishers. 



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tbe post £200 a year, a Bum wbich enabled 
Lim, no doubt, to leave bia ^rret in the 
Haymnrltet. Every step he gained between 
that garret and Holland House, he owed to 
the same kind of influence. He waa Under- 
Secretary of State, his cbief being the Earl 
of Sunderland, to whom vol vi, of the 
Spectator waa dedicated, vol iv. having pre- 
viously been dedicated to Marlborough, Sun- 
derland'a father-in-law. Addison's neit post 
was Chief Secretary for Ireland, during the 
rice-rojalty of the notorious Lord Wharton, 
to whom vol. V. of the Spectator waa dedi- 
cated, in terma which extolled bb business 
capacity, but which were judiciously silent 
regarding his mord character. On the death 
of Queen Anne, Addison was made Secre- 
tary to the provisional Regency, and two 
years later he became Secretary of State. 
Addison was undoubtedly the first literary 
man of his time ; yet, throughout his career, 
be was paid in political advancement for his 
literary labours; for it is well known that 
his business capacity was of the poorest or- 
der. No man evcrhad a better opportunity 
than Addison had of asserting the indepen- 
dence of literature, yet he was always willing 
to use it as his ladder, rather than as his 

In this Addison was by no means singular 
in his day. The chief of hia contemporaries 
lived, or tried to live, by the same means ; 
though few were so fortunate as he was. 
Defoe was secretary to the joint commission 
which drew up the Articles of Union, and 
was afterwards sent to SeotJand on a special 
mission to advance its interests ; but Defoe 
was twice fined and imprisoned for political 
libel, and on the earlier occasion at least was 
pilloried as well. Men of letters who lived 
by politics, had to take their share, not only 
of political profit, but also of political Buffer- 
ing. Prior, who was twice secretary to a 
foreign embassy (thanks to bis patron Lord 
Dorset), and twice virtually an ambassador, 
was cbamed with high treason, in connection 
with the Treaty of Utrecht, and was impria- 
oned for two years. This sent him baclE to 
his fellowship and hia hooks. He then pub- 
lished his poems by subscription, and realiz- 
ed £10,000. The Earl of Oxford played 
the grand patron and added other £10,000 ; 
and thus the poet's last days were comforta- 
bly provided for. Congreve was more for- 
tunate. He received from Halifax (Addison's 
patrou) different posts in the custoniB, which 
yielded him £600 a year; and after the ac- 
cession of the house of Hanover, he was 
made Secretary to the Island of Jamaica, 
which nearly doubled hia income. Gay was 
the most unlucky of all literary place-hun- 
ters. In 1714 he quitted his post of private 



secretary to the Duchess of Monmouth, to 

accompany Lord Clarendon, Envoy Extraor- 
dinary to Hanover, in the capacity of secre- 
tary. Gay wrote to Pope in great glee 
about his good fortune. But he kept the 
post only for a month or two. He made 
several attempts, subsequently, to enlist 
Court favour on his behalf, but without suc- 
cess. Once he was offered a humble post, 
which he declined with indignation. That 
made his reputation ; for to that disappoint- 
ment, in all probability, we owe "'llie Beg- 
gar's Opera.'* By the publication and per- 
formance of that play, and by the publication 
(by subscription, of course), of ' Polly,' a se- 
quel to it, the performance of which was 
prohibited. Gay realized nearly £3,000. 
These details serve to show us how 

fpeat authors lived and were remunerated 
uring the period that connects the reign of 
Dryden witii the reign of Pope. Two things 
seem to be clearly demonstrated — that 
authors were not yet free from their bond- 
age to personal and political patrous ; and 
tbat publishers had not yet learned to rely 
on the patronage of the public. The latter 
were still, as Dryden called them, mere 
' chapmen ' of books ; and their gains de- 
pended mainly on the amount of patronage, 
represented by subscriptions, which the m- 
fluencc of authors could bring them. In 
fact, their interest lay, as Dryden hinted 
very plainly to Tonson, in intercepting as 
large a share as possible of the subscriptions 
which passed through their hands. 

The connecting link between Dryden and 
Pope, for our present purpose at least, was 
Jacob Tonson—' left-legged Jacob,' as Pope 
wickedly called him, referring to n personal 
deformity. In truth, however, the whole of 
Pope's satirical allusions to Tonson were 
somewhat nngencrona — though they were 
not the less Pope-ish on that account — for 
Tonson was the first bookseller who recog- 
nised Pope's merit. Ii^ 1J06 he wrote to 
Pope in flattering terms, offering to publish, 
in his forthcoming Miscellany, Pope s ' Pas- 
torals,' which he had seen in manuscript — an 
offer which Pope was too shrewd a man of 
business to reject; and the publication at 
once placed Pope in the front rank of the 
authors of his time. It was this transaction 
tbat suggested Wycherley's profane remark, 
that ' Jacob's ladder had raised Pope to im- 
mortality.' Yet, not long afterwards, wo 
find Pope writing thus of his patron : ' Ja- 
cob creates poets as kings do knights; not 



'Gay's theatre receipts from the opera 
amounted to £(193 13s. 6<1. The name of tlta 
miinajter wlio sliared the profits wiib Gaj.waa 
Rich; which suggested the mot that ' " The Beg- 
gar's Opera " made Oay ricli, and Rich gay.' 



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Authors and PtAliehera. 



for their Iionour, bot for their money. Cer- 
tainly he ought to be esteemed a worker of 
miracles who is grown rich by poetry.' The 
extent of Tonson's wealth is uncertun ; but 
we know th&t when hiB nephew, Jacob IL, 
died in 1736, — ayear before the uncle closed 
Lis ledger for ever, — ^he left a fortune of 
£100,000, the greater part of which old 
Jacob inherited. 

Pope, however, like Scott at a later peri- 
od, found it advantageous to extend his 
pnblishing connections. Besides Ton son, he 
had dealings of one kind or another with 
IdDtot, Curll, Dodsley, Gilliver, and Motte, 
to mention no others. With Curll, the 
BoppoSedsurTeptitiouspublisherof his letters, 
his relations were anythiag but friendly. 
A ridiculoua turn is given to these relations 
by an apocryphal story circulated By Curll, 
of an attempt which he believed, or pretend- 
ed to believe, that Pope had made to poison 
him in a tavern, at their first and only meet* 
ing, in consequence of his having ascribed 
to Pope the authorship of ' The Court Poems,' 
three of Lady Mary , Wortley Montagu's 
'Town- Eclogues.' The publisher with 
whom Pope's name is chiefly associated, how- 
ever, was Bernard Lintot. In one of his 
most biting and hnmerous prose sketches, 
Pope describes a journey to Oxford, per- 
formed in company with Lintot, whom he 
holds up to the most unmitigated ridicule. 
Yet lintot was the publbber of Pope's 
Homer, a speculation from which he derived 
between £8,000 and £9,000, and which 
enabled him to set up his villa at Twicken- 
ham. This success allowed Pope to triumph 
over the slavery of patronage in 
ble couplet : — 



It was quite chnracteristic of Pope, how- 
ever, that he should take credit for his 
emancipation to himself, and forget his obli- 
gations to the booksellers. lie never was 
thin-skinned in these matters, or indeed in 
any matters affecting the reputation of 
others. Ilis feelings towards Lintot, his 
undoubted benefactor, were- not more grate- 
ful or generous than those with which he re- 
garded Tonson and Cnrll. In the race de- 
scribed in the second book of the ' Dunciad,' 
in- honour of the goddess of Dnlness, Lintot 
and Curll are entered as rival candidates. 



• Vain boast ; for wli«n he was offered £1.000 
to snppresB liis altKch on the Darbcss of Marl- 
boroui^li, in the cliaracter of AtnBsa, lie took tlje 
monej. and nevertheless allowed the libol to be 
printed. 



With me began tills gonins, and shall'end." 
Ho spoke ; and who with Lintot shall contend T 
Pear held them mate. Alone antaonht to 

Stood dauntless Curll : " Behold that rival here! 

The race bjr vlo^our, not by vaunts, is won ; 

So lake the hindmost, H 1" (he said) "and 

Swift as a bard the bailiff leaves behind, 
He left hnge Lintot and outstripped the wind. 
As when a dab-cblclc waddles through the copse 
On feet and wIn|{S, and flies, and wades, and 

So laboaring on, with ebonlders, bands, and 

Wide as a windmill alt bis fignre spreAd, 
With arms expanded Bernard rows his state. 
And lefl-legged Jacob seems to emulate.'* 

Pope did not stand alone in his day in his 
contempt for the booksellers. It is told of 
Young, that when Tonson and Lintot both 
offered for one of his works, be answered 
both at a sitting. In his letter to Lintot, he 
called Tonson ' an old rascal.' In his letter 
to Tonson, he called Lintot ' a great scoun- 
drel.' After folding the letters, he trans- 
posed their addresses, and each had the 
advantage of learning Yonng's true opinion 
of him without Young being aware of it. 

The portion of authors was at its worst 
when Samuel Johnson began his career 
in London. Macanlay compares the epoch 
to ' a dark night between two sunny days.' 
The age of patronage had passed away. 
The age of general curiosity and Intelligence 
had not arrived. The political patronage of 
men of letters was extinguished by Walpole, 
who found probably that he cDnld employ 
the civil list to better purpose in securing 
parliamentary support, than in buying the 
services of needy scribblers and miserable 
Grub-street hacks. This fact is generally 
quoted to Walpole's disadvantage; but it is 
very questionable whether he ia really to be 
blamed for iL Tlie immediate effects of his 
policy were very deplorable. In the end, 
however, it threw authors on their own re- 
sources; and it led to a complete change of 
policy on the part of the booKscUera. John- 
son came upon the scene in a time of 
literary famine, bnt he hved to see the 
change to which his own labours had in no 
Btnall degree contributed. He was on very 
friendly terms with the booksellers. It is 
true that, in his lodgings, he once thrashed 
Tom Osborne for impertinence ; but he was 
accustomed to dine with Tonson, then a rich 
man and a great power, on terms of equali- 
ty. During the period of his early struggles, 
when he had often to go without a din- 
ner. Cave, the publisher of The Gentleman's 
Magazine, was his hardest taskmaster ; vet 
he esteemed Cave highly, and wrote his 

• The'Dunclad,'U.63— W. 



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Authors and Publishers, 



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life, in wbich he gave a generous estimate 
of tiis cbaracter. Of the booksellers as a 
class he, a bookseller's bod, always spoke in 
terms of respectful gratitude. ' The book- 
sellers,' he said, ' are generous, liberal-minded 
men ;' and be dignified tbent as ' the patrons 
of literature.' Johnson spoke thus from his 
own experience of them, and not witbont 
reason. He contracted with them for ' The 
Lives of the Poets' at £200. Tbey sponta- 
neously gave hint £300 ; and they added 
another £100 when the ' Lives' were issued 
as a separate pubUcation. Of 
should be added that they could well afford 
to do so, as they cleared £5,000 by the work ; 
but publishers, even in these days, 
always generous in proportion to their gains. 
One important service which Johnson 
rendered to men of letters can never be for- 
gotten. By his famous letter to Lord Ches- 
terfield, the self -con stitn ted patron of bis 
' Dictionary ' — whether Chesterfield deserved 
his strictures or not — he gave its death-blow 
to the system of personal patronage.* 
Chesterfield's g ratuitously complimet 
essays in the World, he said to Garrick 
other friends — ' I bave sailed a long 
difficult voyage round the world of the 
English language; and does be now send 
out bis cock-boat to tow me into hart>our !' 

A slight incident shows the estimate 
Johnson bad formed of the struggle in 
which he had engaged. In the tenJi satire 
of his ' Imitations of Juvenal,' a couplet on 
the vanity of authors' hopes originally stood 
thus: — 
' Tot think what ills the acholar'a life aBsaii — 

Toil, envy, want, the garret and the jail.' 
After his encounter with Chesterfielcl, the 
second line was altered to 

' Toil, envy, want, the patron and the jail.' 

Evidently Johnson considered ' the patron' 
entitled to the place nearest ' the jail ' in 
the descending scale of authors' miseries. 

There is a bookseller of Johnson's time, 
who stands out prominently from 
temporaries for liberality and k 
of heart We refer to Andrew Millar, 
especially in his relations with Fielding. 
When James Thomson learned that Fielding 
had sold the copyright of 'Tom Jones' to a 
bookseller for £35, he advised bim to break 
the contract. This he did. Thomson then 
introduced bim to Millar, to whom be had 
himself been introduced by Mallet They 
met at a tavern ; and when Millar offered 
£300 for the MS., Kelding exhibited his de- 



light by ordering two bottles of wine. Sub- 
sequently, Millar gave Fielding £1,000 for 
' Amelia ' — the same sum which, with what 
was thought starthng and reckless liberality, 
Constable more than half a century later 
gave Scott for ' Marmion.' To the exertions 
of the same publisher, Dr. Burton attributes 
the success of Hume's ' History ;' and Hume 
boasted that- the copy-money he received 
' much exceeded anything formerly known 
in England.' Well might Johnson say, ' I. 
respect Millar, sir ; be has raised the price of 
literature.' 

Millar's, however, was unfortunately au ei-. 
ceptional case. Literature, as a trade, was 
at that time increasingly remunerative ; but 
the men who fattened ou it were the printers 
and booksellers, not the authors. Think of 
Goldsmith grinding as a domestic slave for 
Griffiths — to say nothing of Mrs. Griffiths — ■ 
on the Monthly Jievtew. His position was 
but little improved when be became a bond- 
man to Newbery, living as tenant of a rela- 
tion of Newbeiy's in Wine Office-court, 
Fleet-street, and doing an occasional stroke 
of business on bis own account forDodeley, 
Wilkie, and others. It is true that, towards 
the end of bis career, he was rather run after 
by the booksellers. ■ But poor Goldy was 
not the man to profit by such an unlooked- 
for turn of fortune. He had been tnuned 
in a bad school. His personal vanity and 
his gambling habits always kept him poo^; 
and when he died £2,000 in debt, Johnson 
exclaimed, 'Was ever poet so treated be- 
fore ! ' So matters continued till the end of 
the century. Giblion, after the completion 
of bis immortal work, was driven to reside 
permanently at Lausanne, not so much by 
taste, as by hia straitened circumstances.* 
On the other hand, we may gather some idea 
of the prosperity enjoyed by the mechanical 
and materia! artificers in books from a ' val- 
ued file,' prepared by Timperley, f of the 
printers, booksellers, and stationers of the 
eighteenth century, in which we find seven 
members of parliament, five lord mayors of 
London, twenty authors, and twenty-two 
men of wealth and substance. 

It was in the last decade of the eighteenth 
century — the point at which in our retro- 
spect of the relations of publishers and 
authors we have now arrived — that Archi- 
bald Constable — then a young man of 



* But not to tliat of official patronage. John- 
son himself, in 1709, accepted, through Lord 
Bnte, a tojal peDslon of £300 a-jreu. 



Yet Charles Knight tlilnks tliat, under 
the balf-proiit syslem, Gibbon's sbare would 
liBve been less than half of what he actually 
received. — ' Sbodowa of the Old Booksellers,' pp. 
227—8. 

f 'A Dictionary of Priolore and' Printing, 
with tlieProgresEofLlleTature, Ancient and Mo- 
dem.' By C. H. Timperley. London : 1839. 



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18M. 



Avlhprs and PuUiahere. 



1J9 



21 years — ^began boainoss as a dealer 
'scarce old books' — 'scarce o' books,' tlie 
wags read it — at the Cross of Edinbut^b, 
on the very spot which had been occupied 
by Andro Hart, who published for Drum- 
mood of Hawthoniden there, nearly two 
ceoturies before. It is evideut that, before 
his time, what Macaulay calls ' the age of 
general curiosity and intelligence,' bad be- 
gan to dawn. The fact that publiBhcrs and 
printers were realizing large fortunes cannot 
otherwise be accounted for. And no doubt 
the curious and intelligent public, whose 
patronage ultimately emancipated authore 
from their tbraldoin, was greatly increased 
in the general ferment, which U typified liis- 
torically by the French Revolution. But 
the great and distinguishing service which 
Constable rendered to literature was, that he 
waa the first publisher of modern times who 
svstematically gave authors the benefit of 
the public patronage of lettera. For in all 
histranaactions the patron was not Archibald 
Constable himself, bnt the book-buying pub- 
lic which he represented, and [which he re- 
lied on his power to command. It is far 
from complimentary to Constable, it is in- 
deed unmeaning flattery, to speak of bis 
liberality as if it were the same as that of a 
literary patron of the former age — to com- 

Kre it with the liberality of Charles I. to 
n Jonson or of Lord Chesterfield to Dry- 
den, orof Somers and Ilalifai to Addison. In 
these cases the patronage was partly a species 
of charity, and partly a payment for adula- 
tion. But in CoTit!table's case it was purely 
a matter of business. His principles of busi- 
ness, no doubt, differed very widely in their 
enlightened breadth and liberality from those 
acted on by even his immediate predeces- 
sors, and continued by most of his contem- 
poraries. Yet they were strict business 
principles, which he carried into practice on 
a systematic plan. He was resolved to be 
the first publisher of his time, not only for 
dignity's sake, but also for that of profit. 
Be knew that, to achieve that position, he 
roast make a bold venture. Ue knew that 
he had to compete with powerful rivals, 
such as Longman and William Miller in 
London, and John Miller, his oeighbour, in 
Edinbu^h ; and he saw at once, shrewd 
man as he was, that his only chance of suc- 
cess lay in outbidding them in the Uterary 
market, and thereby in eecuring to himself at 
first hand the foremost talent of the day. 

Plainly, however. Constable never could 
have assumed this attitude if he had not 
felt a corresponding degree of confidence 
in the public, on whose appreciation of lite- 
rary work tiie success of literary enterprises 
ultimately depends. In other words, he 



could not afford to pay the producer more 
than, according to his estimate, the consu- 
mers might be expected, wiih the addition 
of a fair margin of profit, to repay him. 
And it was at this point that Constable's real 
strength showed itself. He had the utmost 
confidence in his own judgment — judgment, 
which was aided by remarkable Uterary in- 
sight, and which, in matters strictly profes- 
sional, scarcely ever misled him. TliiB ena- 
bled him to gauge by anticipation, with stii- 
' king accuracy, the acceptability and success 
of the works he pubhshed. In short, he 
possessed a business instinct which told him 
how far a book would take, and he paid for 
it accordingly. It was only natural that the 
stories of his unusual liberality to authors, 
when bruited abroad, should have excited a 
degree of interest and expectancy, which 
would materially increase the demand for 
his works. Probably Constable reckoned 
on this. If he did, it was only another in- 
stance of that shrewdness which enabled 
him to grasp firmly, and to contemplate 
calmly, the whole state of the book trade at 
the time when he began to publish. He 
believed that the reading pubhc was greater 
than was supposed ; and, further, that it 
might be largely, almost indefinitely, increas- 
ed. On this conviction all Lis enterprises 
were^based. He made it his business, there- 
fore, to command the confidence of the pub- 
lic. This ho could do only by providing 
the public with the best possible article. 
To secure that article he must pay the best 
authors a higher price than his rivals. He 
paid it ; and he succecdod. 

It was necessary, however, that they 
should be tjie best authors ; for nothing 
shows more clearly that Constable's liberality 
was matter of basiuess, and not of sentiment 
or caprice, than his dealings with such au- 
thors as failed to secure his entire confidence. 
Thus Campbell proved too keen a bargain- 
maker, and too dilatory a writer for Con- 
stable to have much to do with him ; and 
Campbell, to his deep disgust, received from 
Constable the cold shoulder, for which he 
revenged himself by swearing at publishers 
in general as ' ravens,' and at Constable in 

E articular as a ' deep draw-well,' James 
[ogg made persistent efibrts, in spite of re- 
peated rebuffs, to secure Constable aa his 
publisher — an honour which Constable, evi- 
dently for good commercial reasons, as per- 
sistently declined. William Godwin — the 
author of ' Caleb Williams,' and Shelley's fa- 
ther-in-law,— -declared his inability to write 
his new novel unless he was paid beforehand, 
and modestly proposed ' to be put upon a 
footing with the author of " Waverley and 
" Guy Mannering," ' He accompanied his 



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180 



Authors and PuhlUhera, 



Sroposal with Bome tremendous Btrotes of 
attcry; yet Constable insisted on publish- 
ing' Mandevillo' on the principle of dinsion 
of profits. Sir John Leslie made, a proposal 
apropos of Barrow's Arctic boot ; but he 
complains to Constable that he ' seemed to 
listen to it coldly, as 1 find you generally do 
to all projects which do not originate with 

Jourseff ; and his request to be made 
efirey's colleague in the Edinburgh, aa 
scientific editor, was not more warmly re- 
ceived. The only inference that can be 
drawn from these facts is, that while Consta- 
ble was ready to incur risk, and to make 
sacrifices, to secure authors whom he courted, 
he did not feel called on to do so to oblige 
authors who courted him. 
ITiat, liowevsr, wtioh we have pointed 
. out as constituting Constable's strength aa a 
publisher, was also, sad to say, t!ie undoubt- 
ed source of his weakness; so true is it that 



' Great wits ai 



lo mftdDess msar allied." 



The cfibrta ho made to win Scott are instan- 
ces of enligbteiicd enterprise. The sacrifices 
he made to retain Scott are evidences of a 
morbid jealousy, which amounted to positive 
infatuation. Through his whole career, 
after 1807, he was haunted by a constant 
dread that one or other of his principal 
rivals — Murray or Longman — would wile 
Scott away from him by more tempting 
offers than tie had made. That apprehension 
was the bugbear which he could never 
bring himself boldly to throw pfi'; and to 
our thinking, it' proved in the end the main 
cause of his ruin. It was that, and nothing 
else, that led bim'to concede Scott's ever-in- 
creasing demands for higher terms. But 
for that, he would never have agreed to 
make Scott advances, amounting in one in- 
stance to £lO,000 at a time, for works still 
in embryo, the very titles of which had not 
been determined even by the author. That 
induced him to grant almost limitless accom- 
modation to the Ballantynes, Scott's part- 
ners in his printing and publishing coneems ; 
and to take over at a tremendous toss tbe 
dead stock of John Ballantyne and Co., 
amounting in value to thousands of pounds. 
To make good these assertions, it is only 
- necessary to review briefly Constable's deal- 
ings with Scott, and in connection therewith 
his alliances and ruptures with the rival 
houses of Murray and Longman. The 
whole bnsiness, it must bo premised, often 
assamcs the form of intricate and even dan- 
gerous diplomacy. Tbe task of a skilful 
publisher, iu' such cases, is not less ditEcult 
or hazardous than that of a secretary of 
state or an ambassador at a foreign court, 
who is often driven to adopt expedients, in 



April, 

order to accomplish his purpose, which bis 

cooler judgment does not approve. Id this 
view, Constable was a consummate )lt«rary 
diplomatist. But the best diplomatists arc 
Eometjmes overreached. And though Con- 
stable appeared to be eminently successful 
during the greater part of bis career, wc 
hold very decidedly that his ultimate failure 
had its root and origin in transactions wtiich 
were rather the unwelcome expedients of 
diplomacy, than the natural occurrences of 
legitimate business. 

The Longman alliance began in 1802, 
when Constable was admitted to a fourth 
share in the '.Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
Border,' published by Longman in London. 
In the autumn of that year Mr. Longman 
viMled Edinburgh. He went back to Lon- 
don, proud of his Scottish reception, de- 
lighted especially with his Edinburgh repre- 
sentative, and satisfied that none of his jea- 
lous rivals in the metropolis could dream of 
contending with his interests in the north. 
This confidence was somewhat misplaced. 
For, only a few months later, wc find John 
Murray throwing out ingenious feelers in 
the very quarter in which Ijongman congra- 
tulated himself on his triumphant success. 
Murray was so far successful that ' friendly 
relations were speedily estabhshcd' between 
hlra and Constable's bouse. At this point 
a Murray alliance begins to loom in the fu- 
ture. Not immediately, however ; for in 
1803 Longman obtained the London agency 
of the Edinburgh Review. In the follow- 
ing year Longman again visited Scotland, 
when he was conducted on a provincial tour 
by Constable's convivial partner, A. G. Hun- 
ter, the records of which, with its deplora- 
ble drinking experiences, fill some of the ra- 
ciest pages in the memoir. 

In 1605, the convivial Hunter met Mur- 
ray at York, and tbeir genial friendship, 
prompted no doubt by interest, as well as by 
community of tastes, seems to have drawn 
slill closer the bond of union between their 
respective bouses. At the same time an un- 
pleasant correspondence was going on be- 
tween Messrs. Constable and Co. and the 
Longmans, on various subjects which bad 
led to a painful dispute between the two 
houses. This difference reached its climax 
in November, 1805, when Messrs. Longman 
intimated their wish to break the connec- 
tion. This rupture involved much more se- 
rious consequences than appear on the sur- 
face. Mr. Thomas Constable says, with re- 
ference to it, ' It had been well for Archi- 
bald Constable had it been othcnvisc. The 
uDtortuoate experiment of the esUblisbraent 
of a London bouse in 1809 would thereby 
have been averted, and the catastrophe of 



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1874. 



^ulliotv and Publishers. 



181 



1836 might never have occiirred ' (vol. i, p. 
44). What were the causes of the rupture 
we are not expressly told ; hut in a memo- 
randum written by Constable at a later date, 
be says it was caused by Hunter's ' warm 
temper ' more than by anything else. The 
truth appears to be tbat Hunter, acting for 
. CoQBtable and. Co., rashly provoked the 
quarrel with Longman, knowing tbat 'he 
had bis friend Murray to fall back on, and 
believing tbat a league with the latter would 
be more pleasant, if not also more profitable, 
than that with the former. Accordingly, 
Murray visited Scotland in 1808, and Hun- 
ter confirmed the new alliance by putting 
htm through experiences of Forfarshire con- 
viviality similar to those from which Long- 
man had suffered so sharply two years pre- 
viously. Murray also 'paid for it dearly' 
according to his host ; but he returned to 
London, the ' faithful ally ' of the house of 
Constable. 

Murray's letters to Constable at this time 
overflow with sentiments of friendship. A 
few weeks after his return to London, he 
addressed the Edinburgh firm as ' My dear- 
est friends ' ! Thereafter, the same exube- 
rant style is continued. ' Every moment, 
my dear Constable,' he writes, in concluding 
one of these gushing epistles, 'I feel more 
gratefid to you, and I trust that you will 
ever Bad me your faithful friend.' Hun- 
ter's ' tmat ' was somewhat different Wri- 
ting to Constable from London a few weeks 
later he sajs, ' I trust Murray is now fairly 
noosed.' Noosed indeed he was, until his 
interests made it expedient for him to es- 
cape. Then, his ardent addresses proved to 
have been the too much protesting of the 
faithless lover. 

Before that discovery was made, however, 
there was much confidential intercourse be- 
tween the houses. In one of Murray's let- 
ters (written in 1807) ho raises the curtain a 
little bit, and lets us see how the diplomatic 
game was carried on. Referring to Consta- 
ble's quarrel with Longman regarding the 
copyright of the Edinburgh Reviem, Murray 
insists ou the necessity of Constable ' fixing 
Mr, Jeffrey irrevocably to yourself ; for, as 
in all hazardous and important eases, we 
must take in extremes and possibilities.' 
The extreme possibility hinted at evidently 
was that Jeffrey might be bought over by 
the Longmans to edit a rival Review. This 
is a clear proof of the ascendency which au- 
thorship was acquiring in the commerce of 
literature. Though jealousy does not al- 
ways imply warmth of affection on the one 
side, it generally implies power on the other. 
When rival authors compete for the same 
publisher, the publisher has the game in__bis 



own hands ; but when rival publishers com- 
pete for the same author, the author is mas- 
ter of the situation. Inio the latter condi- 
tion, evidcHtly, the book trade had now 
been brought, thanks to the spread of en- 
lightenment, and the enterprise of Archibald 
Constable. 

In due time a rival Review did come, — 
not, however, from the dreaded house of 
Longman, but from the friendly house of 
Murray. Before the end of 180", John 
Murray found cause of offence in some of 
Constable's transactions — what, does not 
precisely appear ; and what docs appear is 
trivial enough, — but the upshot was, a rup- 
ture with Murray early in 1808, as complete 
as that with Longman had been tlirce years 
before. By a curious, if not suspicious, 
coincidence, there occurred about the same 
time a seriooa breach between Constable 
and Scott The causes of tliis, in so far as 
they appear, were partly literary, partly po- 
litical, and partly, if not chiefly, neilHer. 
Scott was hurt by the unsparing severity of 
the notice of ' Mamiion ' in the Edinburgh 
Review, though on this score, the publisher, 
who had given £l ,000 for the copyright^of 
the poem, had quite as weighty grounds of 
complaint as the author. Scott was sUll 
further incensed by what he calls ' certain 
impertinences which, in the vehemence of 
their Whiggery, Messrs. Constable and Co. 
have dared to indulge in towards me.' But 
probably in this, as in similar cases, the real 
reason was neither of those which were al- 
leged. In short, it is evident that Scott, 
who had become his own printer in 180S 
(James Ballantyne and Co.), was bent also 
on becoming his own publisher, if not with 
the view to acquiring for himself the whole 
of the profits wnich had previously been di- 
vided between himself and bis booksellers, 
at least with the view of having free scope 
to indulge his craze for literary speculation. 
' He had, long before this,' says Lockhart, 
' cast a shrewd and penetrating eye on the 
field of literary enterprise, and developed in 
his own mind the outlines of many exten- 
sive plans, which wanted nothing Wt the 
command of a sufficient body of able sub- 
alterns to be carried into execution with 
splendid success.'* 

Several important consequences quickly 
followed. Scott and Murray having both 
quarrelled with Constable, were naturally 
(]r;iwn together by that ' fellow-feeling ' 
which makes men 'wondrous kind.' la 
an alliance, offensive and 
formed between them at 
Murray happened to he a 

' Ufa of Scott,' ToLii. p. 43. 



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183 



Auihora and Puhliafiers. 



April, 



visitor. At the same time it was reaolved 
to establish a new publishing house in Edin- 
burgh, as a rival to Constable and Co. The 
issue of these negotiations was that the 
Quarterly Bevleie was established in 1809, 
and that in the same year the publishing 
liouse of John Ballantyne and Co. was foun- 
ded in Edinburgh, with Scott as chief part' 
ner and ruling spirit. 

The consequences to Constable were of 
the most serious nature. He was thereby 
led to engine in what proved not only the 
first mistake in his professional career, but 
the beginning of fatal disasters — viz., the es- 
tablishment of a London branch. Consta- 
ble himself says that be was driven to this 
step by ,' the folly of certain' booksellers ;' 
and certainly his nnfortunate experiences 
with Longman and with Murray warranted 
the expenment, especially as the condition 
of the Kdinbui^li bouse at the time was 
thoroughly sound, and full of promise. 
His alliances with two of the first houses in 
London having failed, he was not inclined 
to risk a third attempt of the same kind. 
lie may also hare felt that, as Murray was 
cocoura^ng a rival bouse in Edinburgh, the 
law of retaliation entitled him to carry the 
' war into the enemy's country. Ilowever 
this may have been, the London house was 
opened early in 1809. Before it bad been 
a year in existence Mr. Park, the managing 
partner, died ; and as no satisfactory arrange- 
ment could be made for carrying it on, it 
was soon afterwards dissolved. The Edin- 
burgh Review was once more transferred to 
agents (Messrs. White, Cochrane, and Co.), 
with whom it remained until it went home 
again to the Longmans, in 1814. Changes 
followed in the Edinburgh house. A. G. 
Hunter retired in 1611. Mr. Cathcart, one 
of bis successors in the firm, died in 1812, 
and from that dato till the failure in 1826, 
Constable's solo partner was Robert Cadell, 
his future son-in-law. 

Other events, having a momentous bear- 
ing on Constable's future, had meantime 
been transpiring. In 1811 Scott had grati- 
fied bis pride by the purchase of Abbots- 
ford — then a small estate of 150 acres, after- 
wards increased by Scott's succeasi?e pur- 
chases to upwards of 1,000 acres. Thus 
Scott completed his tale of 'Four P's' — 
printer, publisher, proprietor, and poet — and 
entered on that career, which, however bril- 
liant outwardly, was in some respects a 
mere ' game of speculation.' His foolish 
ambition to make Abbotsford a big place, 
and himself a ' country gentleman all of the 
olden time,' led him into endless extrava- 
gance, in the building and furnishing of his 
house, as well as in the purchase of land. 



Nor did be always buy land on the most 
advantageous terms. His desire to widen 
bis borders soon became known. And 
when it appeared that Scott had set bia 
heart on a neighbouring patch, the owner 
thereof set bis price on it accordingly. Ilia 
grand schemes always required more ready 
money than he conid command, even when • 
his income was at its largest. With that 
view his printing business had to be pushed, 
sometimes even at the expense of his van- 
tage ground as the most popular author of 
his time. Thus in negotiating with Consta- 
ble for the publication of ' The Lord of the 
Isles,' in 1814, he suggests that the Long- 
mans should have ' half of the whole bar- 
gain, that is, half of the agency as well aa 
the property.' He fears that Ihey will not 
be contented with less, and he adds, 'yon 
know I hare powerful reasons (besides their 
uniform handsome conduct) for not dia- 
obliging them,' — in other words, be could 
not afford to sacrifice their patronage of 
James Ballantyne and Co., as printers. 

Another ahm to which Scott was driven, 
in order to provide ways and means for 
realizing his extravagant ideas was, aa we 
have already s^d, contracting and receiving 
payment for works afterwards to be writton. 
In a paper, prepared in 1826, by Mr. Alex- 
ander Cowan, the trustee appointed by the 
creditore of Constable and Co., 'nine dis- 
tinct cimma are brought against Sir Walter 
Scott's estate, on account of contracts pend- 
ing or unfulfilled." ^iii. 442). From a letter 
of Cadell's written in January, 18-26, on the 
eve of the failure, it appears that the ad- 
vances made on three of these hypothetical 
works — fictions, in a double sense — amount- 
ed to £7,600. The negotiations were still 
further co'mplicated by these payments being 
made in bills. 

The embroilment did not stop here. The 
trade in legitimate bills — if billa for value 
not received, not even in existence, can be 
called legitimate — having been found in- 
sufficient, recourse was had to accommoda- 
tion bills — wind-bills, pure and simple. In 
1848 Mr. Thomas Constable asked Sir Jamea 
Gibson-Craig, a man of sterling worth, who 
had been the agent and adviser of Messrs. 
Constable and Co. before and during the 
crisis, to state iu writing his recollection of 
the origin of the system of accommodation- 
bills which had proved so disastrous to his 
father and to Sir Walter Scott. The fol- 
lowing is the material part of Sir James's 
reply :_ 

' I remember perfectly your father showing 
me a letter [I81.3J from Sir Walter Scott, writ- 
ten in great distress, informing liim that his af- 
fairswere in such a EUte that he must call a 



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Aulhor3 and Pubtiahers. 



meeting of his creditors, and requesting jour 
fiither to do BO. 

* After consulting with tne, jour father wrote 
Sir Walter that he hoped it would be unneces- 
S)uy to call a meeting, and that if he would 
come to Edinburgh he thought lie could detjse 
means for avoiding eo disagreeable a measure. 

' Sir Walter cama, and by your father's ad- 
.vice, he applied to the Duke of Buccleuch to 
assist him in raising money by annuity, which 
he did to the amount, T think, of £4,000. 

' Your father proposed that Sir Walter should 
engage to write works for the press ; on the 
faith ot-whioh your father agreed (o give him 
bills to a very considerable extent, and be ac- 
cordingly did so. 

' I believe this was the first transaction in 
bills Sir Walter and your father had. These 
transactions afterwards gradually extended to a 
large amount, and it became their practice that 
Constable and Co. should giTB bills to Sir Wal- 
ter, which he discounted ; and, as a counter- 
security. Sir Walter gaTO similar sums [in bills] 
to the company, of which the company made 

'After this had gone on for some time, your 
father became very uneasy, and wished to put 
an end to the dangerous system in which he 
had embarked ; and he told me that he had 
gone to Sir Walter [in IS^G], Uking with him 
all the bills he had received, and proposed to 
Sir Walter to give up these bills, on Sir Wal- 
ter returning those Constable and Co. bad 
given him. 

' Sir Waiter said he could not possibly do so 
[having already discounted them] ; on which 
your father told [him] that in that case he could 
not meet the engagements for Sir Walter with- 
out discounting the bills granted by him. 
This was accordingly done, and led to discount- 
ing to an immense amount a double set of bills, 
which could not fail to produce, and did actual- 
ly produce, the ruin of both parties.' (iii. 456, 
457.) 

In coming now to review these erents in 
tfieir more direct bearing on Constable's 
career, the opening paragraph of the above 
letl«r carries us back to the year 1613, and 
to ctrcDmstaaccs which had a momentous 
influence on the subsequent history of Con- 
atable's house. In that year, Scott's pub- 
lishing concern (John Batlantyne and Co.), 
started in 1809 in connection with the Mur- 
ray aUiancc, was involved in difficulties so 
(Treat that Scott, as we hpvc just seen, 
thonght it would be necessary to call a 
meeting of his creditors. In less the 
yeai the Murray connection bad been dis- 
solved ; and Scott in his extremity bethought 
him of his eld friend Constable, of whi 
sagacity and prudence he had always, 
spite of political differences, entertained and 
expressed the highest opinion. To Consta- 
ble accordingly be appealed, though there 
had been a coldness between them since the 
ruptnre in 1609 ; and the charmer charmed 



wisely that Constable could not resist the 
temptation. Well had it been for him if he 
had resisted. Never did conscience, or pru- 
dence," whisper to any man the warning, 
obtta principiis, more reasonably, than when 
liis occasion we may suppose it to have 
hinted caution to the ambitious publisher. 
But the ' still small voice ' was disregarded. 
Constable was flattered and captivated by 
the thought of the 'darling wizard of the 
north' returning to his embraces. lie at 
once took over stock to the amount of 
£2,000, which he resold to the trade at a 
loss of 50 per cent., and ' by his sagacious 
advice,' Lockhart says, 'enabled the dis- 
tressed partners to procure amilar assistance 
at the hands of others, who did not partake 
his own feelings of personal kindness and 
sympathy.' It is not to be denied that Con- 
stable did much at thin time out of the good- 
ness of his heart. When Lockhart gives 
him credit for ' personal kindness and sym- 
pathy,' we may be sure that there was war- 
rant for it At the same lime it is difficult 
to believe that he would have incurred posi- 
tive pecuniary loss for these considerations. 
lie might have given advice, he might have 
helped them in many ways ; but we cannot 
see that he would have been warranted in 
sacrificing £1,000 (and for aught he knew 
it might hare been more), unless he could 
calculate on deriving from the transaction 
some ultimate gain. And tlic gain on which 
he reckoned evidenily was, bringing Scott 
under obligations which would attach him to 
Constable's house. Writing to his partner 
on 17th June, 1813, Constable saj's he has 
' no sort of wish to be rapid in being either 
off or on ' with Scott's proposals. Writing 
again on the 21st June,ne thus summarizes 
a new letter from Soott, * which rather per- 
plexes ' him. ' He (Scott) makes two dis- 
tinct propositions, and adds that in the 
event of neither being accepted, he must ap- 
ply to Longman and Co. and Murray.' 
Scott knew full well how to 'govern the 
ventages' of his ' recorder.' 

Constable's services did not end here. A 
few months later, a further advance became 
necessary; the publishing bouse was still 'a 
labouring concern.' Scott had recorded but 
a short time previously his decided repug- 
nance to a renewal of his alliance with Con- 
stable, saying that his objections would 
yield only ' to absolute necessity, or to verj' 
strong grounds of advantage,' and he added 
' I am persuaded nothing ultimately good 
can be expected from any connection with 
that house, unless for those who have a 
mind to he hewers of wood and drawers of 
water,' Yet he has ag^n recourse to Con- 
stable, and hy his tad and counsel Scott is 



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184 



Authors and Pabitshers. 



April, 



coabled to open a credit account with Coq- 
Btabie's London baDkcre, tbe Duke of Buc- 
cleuch being his Bccurity, 

Tbia was id the meantime a great triumph 
for Constable's diplomacy. Once more 
Scott was his friend, bound to him by the 
strong tie of obliftation ; and as the Long. 
man alliance had been renewed a short time 
previously, Constable's position seemed to 
be at ila strongest. In the following year 
' Waverloy' was published, and a new and 
prosperous career opened up before both 
author and publishers. But a dark shadow 
clouded their bright prospects ; that was 
' aceommodation.' Constable and Ballan- 
tyne had been accustomed to deal in accom- 
modation bills for small sums before the 
breach in 1808. The practice was resumed 
veiy soon after the reconciliation in 1813; 
and before the end of 1814, ConaUble's 
house had become ' seriously embarrassed by 
the extent of accommodation afforded to Mr. 
Scott' Their banters remonstrate with 
Cadell, and Cadell remonstrates with Con- 
stable, expressing his wish to pay them off 
and get rid of the connection. Constable 
acquiesces so far. ' We must cut all con- 
nection l/iat is possible with tbe Ballantyncs 
and Mr. Scott ; ' but he is evidently chary of 
offending the latter, by whom he tninlcs ' we 
are this next half-year to be benefited greats 
ly.' At the same time bis situation is ' cer- 
tainly deplorable,' and he would giTe any- 
thing to escape from ii; By-and-by, how- 
ever, he comes tj3 take a more hopeful view 
of matters. lie has not tbe same horror of 
'asMsting credit' as his partner. 'If the 
thing [their business] is atill going on pros- 
perously, why should wc experience obeat- 

LY LIMITED ACCOMMODATION ! ' 

Constable, however, was not to have it 
all bis own way. The