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MISCELLANEOUS

LECTURES and REYIEWS.

BY

RICHARD WHATELY, D.D.

ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN.

LONDON:
PARKER, SON, AND BOURN, WEST STRAND.

MDCCCLXI.

PRINTED BT GEORGE PHIPPS, 13 & 14, TOTHTLL 8TEEET,
WESTMINSTER.

PREFACE.

npHE following Lectures have already appeared in
print, separately, at various times. But it has
been suggested to me, that although they do not
form a series, nor are connected in point of subject
matter, still it may be, to some persons, desirable to
have them collected together into a volume.

They were delivered (some of them, more than
once) at various times and places ; but having been
always addressed to a more or less mixed audience,
they are in a popular style, and do not enter into
any abstruse scientific disquisitions.

Some Articles have been added, from the Quarterly
Review, and from the London Review, a Periodical
which was discontinued after two numbers. As
these Articles were written a good many years ago,
some of them contain allusions to a state of things
different from what exists now. But it may be to
some readers not uninteresting to trace the changes
which have since taken place, and to observe how
far subsequent occurrences have confirmed or refuted
the opinions put forth several years before.

iV PREFACE.

The Review of Miss Austin's Works was pub-
lished some time ago, through a mistake, in the
collection of Sir Walter Scott's Remains. He had
written, in an earlier number of the Quarterly -, an
Article on some other Works of the same Author ;
and it was thus that the mistake originated.

The Article on the Penal Colonies was afterwards
republished in one of the two Letters addressed to the
late Earl Grey, on the subject of Secondary Punish-
ments.

CONTENTS.

LECTURES.

LECTUEE I.

PAGE

On the Intellectual and Moral Influences of the

Professions on the Character • . . 1

LECTUEE II.

On the Origin of Civilisation 26

Postscript 58

LECTUEE HI.
On Instinct "60

LECTUEE IV.

Dr. Palet's Works 85

Note A 118

LECTUEE V.

Present State of Egypt 120

LECTUEE VI.
Bacon's Essays 143

LECTUEE VII.
The Jews 179

LECTUEE VIIL

On the supposed Dangers of a little Learning . . . 197

VI CONTENTS.

REVIEWS.

PAGE

Emigration to Canada 211

1. " Facts and Observations respecting Canada and the United

States of America," ifcc. By Charles F. Grece, Esq.
1819.

2. " The Emigrant's Guide to Upper Canada ; or Sketches of

the Present State of that Province," &c. By C. Stuart,
Esq. 1820.

3. " A Visit to the Province of Upper Canada, in 1819." By

Jamas Strachan, Esq. 1820.

II.

Transportation 246

1. " Report from the Select Committee on Criminal Commit-

ments and Convictions. 1828."

2. " New South Wales. Return to an Address of the Honour-

able the House of Commons, dated 1st May, 1828, for a
Copy of a Report by the late Major- General Macquarie,
&c. ; and an Extract of a Letter from Major- General
Macquarie to Earl Bathurst in October, 1823, etc."

3. " Two Years in New South Wales," &c. By P. Cunningham,

Surgeon, R.N. 1827.

III.

Modern Novels 282

" Northanger Abbey," and " Persuasion." By the Author of
" Sense and Sensibility," &c.

CONTENTS. Vii

IV.

PAGE

The Juvenile Library 314

1. " Scenes of British Wealth, in Produce, Manufactures, and

Commerce," &c. By the Kev. I. Taylor. 1825.

2. " Grecian Stories." By Maria Hack. 1828.

3. " Familiar Illustrations of the Principal Evidences and

Design of Christianity." By Maria Hack. 1824.

4. " Conversations on the life of Jesus Christ ; for the Use of

Children." By a Mother. 1828.

LECTURE I.

ON THE INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS

ON THE CHARACTER.

So?te ancient writer relates of the celebrated Hannibal,
that during his sta;y at some regal court, the evening entertain-
ment on one occasion consisted of a discourse, (what we in these
days should call a " lecture,") which an aged Greek Philo-
sopher, named Phormio, if I remember rightly, had the honour
of being permitted to deliver before the king and courtiers. It
was on the qualifications and duties of a General. The various
high endowments — the several branches of knowledge, and the
multifarious cares and labours appertaining to an accomplished
military leader, were set forth, as most of the hearers thought,
with so much ability and elegance, that the discourse was
received with general applause. But, as was natural, eager
inquiries were made what was thought of it by so eminent a
master in the art military, as Hannibal. On his opinion
being asked, he replied with soldierlike bluntness, that he had
often heard old men talk dotage, but that a greater dotard than
Phormio he had never met with.

He would not however have been reckoned a dotard — at
least he would not have deserved it, (as he did,) — if he had had
the sense, instead of giving instructions in the military art
to one who knew so much more of it than himself, to have
addressed an audience of military men, not as soldiers, but as
human beings ; and had set before them correctly and clearly,
the effects, intellectual and moral, likely to be produced on
them, as men, by the study and the exercise of their profession.

w. e. B

2 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. i.

For, that is a point on which men of each profession respec-
tively are so far from being necessarily the best judges, that,
other things being equal, they are likely to be rather less com-
petent judges than those in a different walk of life.

That each branch of study, and each kind of business, has
a tendency to influence the character, and that any such
tendency, if operating in excess, exclusively, and unmodified
by other causes, is likely to produce a corresponding mental
disease or defect, is what no one, I suppose, would deny. It
would be reasonable as an antecedent conjecture ; and the con-
firmation of it by experience is a matter of common remark.
I have heard of a celebrated surgeon, whose attention had been
chiefly directed to cases of deformity, who remarked that he
scarcely ever met an artisan in the street but he was able to
assure himself at the first glance what his trade was. He
could perceive in persons not actually deformed, that particular
gait or attitude — that particular kind of departure from exact
symmetry of form — that disproportionate development and
deficiency in certain muscles, which distinguished, to his ana-
tomical eye, the porter, the smith, the horse-breaker, the stone-
cutter, and other kinds of labourers, from each other. And he
could see all this, through, and notwithstanding, all the indivi-
dual differences of original structure, and of various accidental
circumstances.

Bodily peculiarities of this class may be, according to tho
degree to which they exist, either mere in elegancies hardly
worth noticing, or slight inconveniences, or serious deformities,
or grievous diseases. The same may be said of those mental
peculiarities, which the several professional studies and habits
tend, respectively, to produce. They may be, according to the
degree of them, so trifling as not to amount even to a blemish ;
or slight, or more serious defects ; or cases of complete mental
distortion.

You will observe that I shall throughout confine myself to
the consideration of the disadvantages and dangers pertaining
to each profession, without touching on the intellectual and

lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 3

moral benefits that may result from it. You may often hear
from persons gifted with what the Ancients called epideictic
eloquence, very admirable and gratifying panegyrics on each
profession. But with a view to practical utility, the considera-
tion of dangers to be guarded against is incomparably the most
important ; because, to men in each respective profession, the
beneficial results will usually take place even without their
thinking about them ; whereas the dangers require to he care-
fully noted, and habitually contemplated, in order that they
may be effectually guarded against. A physician who had a
friend about to settle in a hot climate, would be not so likely to
dwell on the benefits he would derive spontaneously from breath-
ing a warmer air, as to warn him of the dangers of sun-strokes
and of marsh- exhalations.

And it may be added that a description of the faulty habits
which the members of each profession are in especial danger of
acquiring, amounts to a high eulogium on each individual, in
proportion as he is exempt from those faults.

To treat fully of such a subject would of course require
volumes ; but it may be not unsuitable to the present occasion
to throw out a few slight hints, such as may be sufficient to
turn your attention to a subject, which appears to me not only
curious and interesting, but of great practical importance.

There is one class of dangers pertaining alike to every
profession, every branch of study — every kind of distinct pur-
suit. I mean the danger in each, to him who is devoted to it,
of over-rating its importance as compared with others; and
again, of unduly extending its province. To a man who has no
enlarged views, no general cultivation of mind, and no familiar
intercourse with the enlightened and the worthy of other classes
besides his own, the result must be more or less of the several
forms of narrow-mindedness. To apply to all questions, on all
subjects, the same principles and rules of judging that are
suitable to the particular questions and subjects about which
he is especially conversant ; — to bring in those subjects and
questions on all occasions, suitable or unsuitable ; like the

b3

4 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. I.

painter Horace alludes to, who introduced a cypress tree into the
picture of a shipwreck ; — to regard his own particular pursuit
as the one important and absorbing interest ; — to look on all
other events, transactions, and occupations, chiefly as they
minister more or less to that ; — to view the present state and
past history of the world chiefly in reference to that; — and to
feel a clanish attachment to the members of the particular
profession or class he belongs to, as a hody or class ; (an attach-
ment, by-the-by, which is often limited to the collective class,
and not accompanied with kindly feelings towards the individual
members of it,) and to have more or less an alienation of
feeling from those of other classes ; — all these, and many other
such, are symptoms of that narrow-mindedness which is to be
found, alike, mutatis mutandis, in all who do not carefully guard
themselves against it, whatever may be the profession or depart-
ment of study of each.

Against this kind of danger the best preservative, next to
that of being thoroughly aware of it, will be found in varied
reading and varied society; in habitual intercourse with men,
whether living or dead, — whether personally or in their works,
— of different professions and walks of life, and, I may add,
of different Countries and different Ages from our own.

It is remarked, in a work by Bishop Copleston, " that
Locke, like most other writers on education, occasionally con-
founds two things, which ought to be kept perfectly distinct,
viz. that mode of education, which would be most beneficial, as
a system, to society at large, with that which would contribute
most to the advantage and prosperity of an individual. These
things are often at variance with each other. The former is
that alone which deserves the attention of a philosopher ; the
latter is narrow, selfish, and mercenary. It is the latter indeed
on which the world are most eager to inform themselves ; but
the persons who instruct them, however they may deserve the
thanks and esteem of those whom they benefit, do no service to
mankind. There are but so many good places in the theatre of
life; and he who puts us in the way of procuring one of them,

lect. I.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 5

does to ns indeed a great favour, but none to the whole as-
sembly." And in the same work it is further observed, that,
" In the cultivation of literature is found that common link,
which among the higher and middling departments of life unites
the jarring sects and subdivisions in one interest ; which sup-
plies common topics, and kindles common feelings, unmixed
with those narrow prejudices, with which all professions are
more or less infected. The knowledge too, which is thus
acquired, expands and enlarges the mind, excites its faculties,
and calls those limbs and muscles into freer exercise, which, by
too constant use in one direction, not only acquire an illiberal
air, but are apt also to lose somewhat of their native play and
energy. And thus, without directly qualifying a man for any
of the employments of life, it enriches and ennobles all : with-
out teaching him the peculiar benefits of any one office or call-
ing, it enables him to act his part in each of them with better
grace and more elevated carriage ; and, if happily planned and
conducted, is a main ingredient in that complete and generous
education, which fits a man1 ' to perform justly, skilfully, and
magnanimously, all the offices, both private and public, of
peace and war.' "

But to pass from the consideration of the dangers common
to all, and to proceed to what is peculiar to each ; I will begin
by pointing out one or two of those which especially pertain to
the clerical profession.

The first that I shall notice is one to which I have fre-
quently called attention, as being likely to beset all persons in
proportion as they are occupied about things sacred ; in dis-
cussing, and especially in giving instruction on, moral and
religious subjects: and the clergy accordingly must be the
most especially exposed to this danger : to the danger, I mean,
of that callous indifference, which is proverbially apt to be the
result of familiarity. On this point there are some most
valuable remarks by Bishop Butler, which I have adverted to

Milton.

6 INFLUENCES OP THE [lect. i.

on various occasions, and among others, in a portion (which I
will here take the liberty of citing) of the last unpublished
Charge I had occasion to deliver.

" ' Going over,' says Bishop Butler, ' the theory of virtue
in one's thoughts, talking well, and drawing fine pictures of it ;
— this is so far from necessarily or certainly conducing to form
a habit of it in him who thus employs himself, that it may
harden the mind in a contrary course, and render it gradually
more insensible, i.e. form an habit of insensibility to all moral
considerations. For, from our very faculty of habits, passive
impressions, by being repeated, grow weaker ; thoughts, by
often passing through the mind, are felt less sensibly. Being
accustomed to danger begets intrepidity, i.e. lessens fear ; to
distress, lessens the passion of pity ; to instances of others'
mortality, the sensible apprehension of our own. And from
these two observations together; — that practical habits are
formed and strengthened by repeated acts, and that passive
impressions grow weaker by being repeated upon us ; — it must
follow that active habits may be gradually forming and
strengthening, by a course of acting upon such motives and
excitements, while these motives and excitements themselves
are by proportionable degrees growing less sensible, i.e. are
continually less and less sensibly felt, even as the active habits
strengthen. And experience confirms this ; for, active prin-
ciples, at the very same time that they are less lively in per-
ception than they were, are found to be somehow wrought more
thoroughly into the temper and character, and become more
effectual in influencing our practice. The three things just
mentioned may afford instances of it : perception of danger is a
natural excitement of passive fear, and active caution ; and by
being inured to clanger, habits of the latter are gradually
wrought, at the same time that the former gradually lessens.
Perception of distress in others, is a natural excitement,
passively to pity, and actively to relieve it : but let a man set
himself to attend to, inquire out, and relieve distressed persons,
and he cannot but grow less and less sensibly affected with the

lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 7

various miseries of life with which he must become acquainted ;
when jet at the same time, benevolence, considered, not as a
passion, but as a practical principle of action, will strengthen ;
and whilst he passively compassionates the distressed less, he
will acquire a greater aptitude actively to assist and befriend
them. So also at the same time that the daily instances of
men's dying around us, gives us daily a less sensible passive
feeling, or apprehension of our own mortality, such instances
greatly contribute to the strengthening a practical regard to it
in serious men ; i.e. to forming a habit of acting with a con-
stant view to it. And this seems again further to show, that,
passive impressions made upon our minds by admonition,
experience, example, though they may have a remote efficacy,
and a very great one, towards forming active habits, yet can
have this efficacy no otherwise than by inducing us to such a
course of action ; and that it is not being affected so and so,
but acting, which forms those habits. Only it must always be
remembered, that real endeavours to enforce good impressions
upon ourselves, are a species of virtuous action.' " Thus far
Bishop Butler. " That moral habits," I proceeded to say, " can
only be acquired by practical efforts, was long since remarked
by Aristotle ; who ridicules those that attended philosophical
discourses with an expectation of improvement, while they con-
tented themselves with listening, understanding, and approving ;
comparing them to a patient who should hope to regain health
by listening to his physician's directions, without following
them. But he omitted to add, as Bishop Butler has done, that
such a procedure is much worse than useless ; being positively
dangerous.

" I need hardly remark, that what the author says of virtue,
is at least equally applicable to religion ; and that consequently,
no one is so incurably and hopelessly hardened in practical
irreligion as one who has the most perfect familiarity with
religious subjects and religious feelings, without having cul-
tivated corresponding active principles. It is he that is, em-
phatically, 'the barren fig-tree,' which has 'no fruit on it,

8 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. i.

but leaves only !' not, a tree standing torpid and destitute of all
vegetation, during the winter's frost or summer's drought, and
capable of being called into life and productiveness, by rain and
sunshine ; but, a tree in full vigour of life and growth, whose
sap is all diverted from the formation of fruit, and is expended
in flourishing boughs that bear only barren leaves."

I need hardly say that the danger I have been now
alluding to, as it is one which besets each person the more in
proportion as he is conversant about religious and moral dis-
cussions, studies and reflections, is accordingly one which the
Clergy most especially should be vigilantly on their guard against,
as being professionally occupied with this class of subjects.

They are professionally exposed again to another danger,
chiefly intellectual, from the circumstance of their having
usually to hold so much intercourse, in their private ministra-
tions, with persons whose reasoning powers are either naturally
weak, or very little cultivated, or not called forth on those
subjects, and on those occasions, on which they are conversing
professionally with a clergyman. How large a proportion of
mankind taken indiscriminately, must be expected to fall under
one or other of these descriptions, we must be well aware : and
it is with mankind thus taken indiscriminately, that the Clergy
in the domestic portion of their ministrations, are to hold inter-
course. Even a disproportionate share of their attention is
usually claimed by the poorer, the younger, and in short
generally, the less educated among their people. Among these
there must of course always be a large proportion who will be
often more readily influenced by a fallacious, than by a sound
reason ; — who will often receive readily an insufficient explana-
tion, and will often be prevented by ignorance, or dulness, or
prejudice, from admitting a correct one. And moreover, of
those whose qualifications are higher, as respects other subjects,
there are not a few who, on moral and religious subjects,
(from various causes,) fall far short of themselves. There are
not a few, e.g. who, while in the full vigour of body and mind,
pay little or no attention to any such subjects; and when

lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 9

enfeebled in their mental powers by sickness or sudden terror,
or decrepit age, will resign themselves to indiscriminate cre-
dulity— who at one time will listen to nothing, and at another,
will listen to i ny thing.

With all these classes of persons, then, a clergyman is led,
in the course of his private duty, to have much intercourse.
And that such intercourse is likely to be any thing but im-
proving to the reasoning faculties — to their development, or
their correction, or even to sincerity and fairness in the exer-
cise of them, is sufficiently evident. The danger is one which
it is important to have clearly before us. When a man of
good sense distinctly perceives it, and carefully and habitually
reflects on it, he will not be much at a loss as to the means by
which it is to be guarded against.

You will observe that 1 have pointed out under this head
a moral, as well as an intellectual danger. And in truth the
temptation is not at all a weak one, even to one who is far
from an insincere character altogether, to lead ignorant, or ill-
educated, and prejudiced men into what he is convinced is best
for them, by unsound reasons, when he finds them indisposed
to listen to sound ones ; thus satisfying his conscience that he
is making a kind of compensation, since there really are good
grounds (though they cannot see them) for the conclusion he
advocates ; till he acquires a habit of tampering with truth, and
finally loses all reverence and all relish for it.1

Another class of dangers, and perhaps the greatest of all to
which the Clergy are professionally exposed, and which is the
last I shall mention, is the temptation to prefer popularity to
truth, and the present comfort and gratification of the people to
their ultimate welfare. The well-known fable of Mahomet and
the mountain, which he found it easier to go to, himself, than
to make the mountain come to him, may be regarded as a sort
of allegorical type of any one who seeks to give peace of
conscience and satisfaction to his hearers, and to obtain applause

1 See Essay on Pious Frauds (Third Series) ; and Dr. West's Discourse on Reserve.

10 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. i.

for himself, by bringing his doctrine and language into a con-
formity with the inclinations and the conduct of his hearers,
rather than by bringing the character of the hearers into a
conformity with what is true and right. Not that there are
many, who are, in the outset at least, so unprincipled as
deliberately to suppress essential truths, or to inculcate known
falsehood, for the sake of administering groundless comfort, or
gaining applause ; but as " a gift" is said in Scripture to
" blind the eyes," so, the bribe of popularity (especially when
the alternative is perhaps severe censure, and even persecution)
is likely, by little and little, to bias the judgment, — to blind
the eyes first to the importance, and afterwards to the truth, of
unpopular doctrines and precepts ; and ultimately to bring a
man himself to believe what his hearers wish him to teach1.

Popularity has, of course, great charms for all classes of
men ; but in the case of a clergyman it offers this additional
temptation ; that it is to him, in a great degree, the favourable
opinion not merely of the world in general, or of a multitude
assembled on some special occasion, but of the very neighbours
by whom he is surrounded, and with whom he is in habits of
daily intercourse.

There is another most material circumstance also which (in
respect of this point) distinguishes the case of the clerical pro-
fession from that of any other. It is true that a medical man
may be under a temptation to flatter his patients with false
hopes, to indulge them in unsuitable regimen, to substitute some
cordial that gives temporary relief, for salutary but unpleasant
medicines, or painful operations, such as are really needful for
a cure. But those (and there are such, as is well known) who
pursue such a course, can seldom obtain more than temporary
success. When it is seen that their patients do not ultimately
recover, and that all the fair promises given, and sanguine hopes
raised, end in aggravation of disease, or in premature death —
the bubble bursts; and men quit these pretenders for those

1 All this is of course especially applicable under wliat is called the " Voluntary
System."

lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 11

whose practice bears the test of experience. These, therefore,
are induced by a regard for their own permanent success in
their profession, as well as by higher motives, to prefer the
correct and safe mode of treating their patients. But it is far
otherwise with those whose concern is with the diseases of the
soul, not of the body — with the next life instead of this. Their
treatment cannot be brought to the same test of experience till
the day of Judgment. If they shall have deluded both their
hearers and themselves by " speaking peace when there is no
peace," the flattering cordial, however deleterious, may remain
undetected, and both parties may continue in the error all their
lives, and the error may even survive them1.

So also again in the legal profession ; — one who gives flat-
tering but unsound advice to his clients, or who pleads causes
with specious elegance, unsupported by accurate legal know-
ledge, may gain a temporary, but seldom more than a temporary,
popularity. It is his interest, therefore, no less than his duty,
to acquire this accurate knowledge : and if he is mistaken on
any point, the decisions of a Court will give him sufficient
warning to be more careful in future. But the Court which is
finally to correct the other class of mistakes, is the one that
will sit on that last great Day, when the tares will be finally
separated from the wheat, and when the " wood, hay, and
stubble," that may have been built up on the divine foundation,
by human folly or artifice, will be burned up.

The Clergy therefore have evidently more need than others
to be on their guard against a temptation, from which they are
not, like others, protected by considerations of temporal interest,
or by the lessons of daily experience.

With regard to the medical profession there used to be (for
of late I think it is otherwise) a remark almost proverbially
common, that the members of it were especially prone to infi-
delity, and even to Atheism. And the same imputation was by
many persons extended to those occupied in such branches of

1 See Scripture Revelations of a Future State, Lect. XII.

12 INFLUENCES OF THE [LEct. i.

physical science as are the most connected with medicine ; and
even to scientific men generally. Of late years, as I have said,
this impression has become much less prevalent.

In a question of fact, such as this, open to general observa-
tion, there is a strong presumption afforded by the prevalence of
any opinion, that it has at least some kind of foundation in
truth. There is a presumption, that either medical men were
more generally unbelievers than the average, or at least, that
those of them who were so were more ready to avow it. In like
manner there is a corresponding presumption, that in the present
generation of medical men there is a greater proportion than
among their predecessors, who are either believers in Revelation,
or at least not avowed unbelievers.

It will be more profitable, however, instead of entering on
any question as to the amount and extent, present or past, of
the danger to which I have been alluding, to offer some con-
jectures as to the causes of it.

The one which I conceive occurs the most readily to most
men's minds is, that a medical practitioner has no Sunday. The
character of his profession does not admit of bis regularly aban-
doning it for one day in the week, and regularly attending pub-
lic worship along with Christians of all classes. Now various
as are the modes of observing the Lord's- day in different christian
countries, and diverse as are the modes of worship, there is
perhaps no point in which Christians of all ages and countries
have been more agreed, than in assembling together for some
kind of joint worship on the first day of the week. And no
one I think can doubt, that, independently of any edification
derived from the peculiar religious services which they respec-
tively attend, the mere circumstance of doing something every
week as a religious observance, must have some tendency to keep
up in men's minds a degree of respect, rational or irrational,
for the religion in whose outward observances they take a part.

A physician in considerable practice must, we know, often
be prevented from doing this. And the professional calls,
it may be added, which make it often impossible for him to

iect. I.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 13

attend public worship, will naturally tend, by destroying the
habit, to keep him away, even when attendance is possible.
Anything that' a person is prevented from doing habitually,
he is likely habitually to omit. There is nothing peculiar
in the case of attendance on public worship. The same thing
may be observed in many ot ers equally. A man placed in
circumstances which interfere with his forming or keeping
up domestic habits, or literary habits, or habits of bodily activity,
is likely to be less ^domestic, less literary, more sedentary, than
his circumstances require.

I have no doubt that the cause I have now been adverting
to does operate. But there are others, less obvious perhaps,
but I think not less important. A religion which represents
Man's whole existence as divided into two portions, of which
his life on earth is every way incalculably the smaller, is
forcibly brought before the mind in a way to excite serious
reflections, by such an event as death, when occurring before
our eyes, or within our particular knowledge. Now a medical
man is familiar with death ; i. e. with the sight and the idea
of it. And the indifference which is likely to result from such
familiarity, I need not here dwell on, further than to refer
you to the passage of Bishop Butler already cited.

But moreover death is not only familiar to the physician,
but it is also familiar to him as the final termination of that
state of existence with which alone he has 'professionally any
concern. As a Christian he may regard it as preparatory
to a new state of existence ; but as a physician he is concerned
only with life in this world, which it is his business to in-
vigorate and to prolong ; and with death, only as the final
catastrophe which he is to keep off as long as possible, and
in reference merely to the physical causes which have pro-
duced it.

Now the habit of thus contemplating death, must have a
tendency to divert the mind from reflecting on it with reference
to other and dissimilar considerations. For, it may be laid down
as a general maxim, that the habit of contemplating any class

14 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. i.

of objects in such and such a particular point of view, tends, so
far, to render us the less qualified for contemplating them
in any other point of view. And this maxim, I conceive,
is capable of very extensive application in reference to all
professional studies and pursuits ; and goes far towards fur-
nishing an explanation of their effects on the mind of the
individual.

But there is another cause, and the last I shall notice
under the present head, which I conceive co-operates frequently
with those above-mentioned: I mean the practice common
with many Divines of setting forth certain physiological or
metaphysical theories as part and parcel of the christian reve-
lation, or as essentially connected with it. If any of these
be unsound, they may, nevertheless, pass muster with the
generality of readers and hearers ; and however unprofitable,
may be, to them, at least harmless; but they present a
stumbling-block to the medical man, and to the physiologist,
who may perceive that unsoundness. For example, I have
known Divines not only maintaining the immateriality of the
soul as a necessary preliminary to the reception of Christianity,
— as the very basis of Gospel-revelation, — but maintaining
it by such arguments as go to prove the entire independence of
mind on matter ; urging, e. g. among others, the instances
of full manifestation of the intellectual powers in persons at the
point of death. Now this, or the opposite, the physiologist
will usually explain from the different parts of the bodily frame
that are affected in each different disease. If he believes the
brain to be necessarily connected with the mind, this belief
will not be shaken by the manifestation of me»tal powers in a.
person who is dying of a disease of the lungs. He will no
more infer from this that mind is wholly independent of the
body, than he would, that sight is independent of the body,
because a man may retain his powers of vision when his limbs
are crippled.

The questions concerning materialism I do not mean to
enter upon : I only wish to call your attention to the mistake

lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 15

common to both parties : that of supposing that these questions
are vitally connected with Christianity ; whereas there is not
one word relating to them in the christian Scriptures. In-
deed even at this day a large proportion of sincere Christians
among the humbler classes, are decidedly materialists ; though
if you inquired of them, they would deny it, because they are
accustomed to confine the word matter to things perceptible
to the touch ; but their belief in ghosts or spirits having been
seen and heard, evidently implies the possession by these of
what philosophers reckon attributes of matter. And the dis-
ciples of Jesus were terrified, we are told, when they saw Him
after his resurrection, " supposing that they saw a spirit.'
He convinced them, we read, of his being real flesh and blood:
but whatever may have been their error as to the visible, —
and consequently material — character of a Spirit, it does not
appear that He thought it essential to instruct them on that
head. He who believed that Jesus was truly risen from the
dead, and that the same power would raise up his followers at
the last day, had secured the foundation of the christian faith.

It is much to be wished that religious persons would be
careful to abstain — I do not say, from entering on any physio-
logical or metaphysical speculations (which they have a perfect
right to do) — but from mixing up these with Christianity, and
making every thing that they believe on matters at all con-
nected with religion, a part of their religious faith. I re-
member conversing with an intelligent man on the subject of
some speculations tending to a revival of the doctrine of
equivocal generation, which he censured, as leading to Atheism.
He was somewhat startled on my reminding him that two
hundred years ago many would have as readily set a man down
as an atheist who should have denied that doctrine. Both
conclusions, I conceive, to be alike rash and unwarrantable.

I cannot but advert in concluding this head, to the danger
likely to arise from the language of some Divines respecting a
peaceful or troubled departure, as a sure criterion of a christian
or an unchristian life. " A death-bed's a detector of the heart,"

16 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. i.

is the observation of one of them, who is well known as a poet.
Now, that a man's state of mind on his death-bed is often
very much influenced by his past life, there is no doubt ; but
I believe most medical men can testify that it is quite as often
and as much influenced by the disease of which he dies. The
effects of certain nervous and other disorders in producing dis-
tressing agitation, — of the process of suppuration, in producing
depression oF spirits— the calming and socthing effects of a
mortification in its last stage, and many other such phenomena,
are, I believe, familiar to practitioners. When then they find
promises and threats boldly held out which are far from being
regularly fulfilled, — when they find various statements con-
fidently made, some of which appear to them improbable, and
others at variance with facts coming under their own experience,
they are in danger of drawing conclusions unfavourable to the
truth of Christianity, if they apply too hastily the maxim of
" peritis credendum est in arte sua;" and take for granted on
the word of Divines that whatever they teach as a part of
Christianity, really is so ; without making inquiry for them-
selves. They are indeed no less culpably rash in such a pro-
cedure than any one would have been who should reason in
a similar manner from the works of medical men two or three
hundred years ago ; who taught the influence of the stars on
the human frame — the importance of the moon's phases to the
efficacy of medicines, and other such fancies. Should any one
have thence inferred that astronomy and medicine never could
have any claims to attention, and were merely idle dreams of
empty pretenders, he would not have been more rash than a
physician or physiologist who judges of Christianity by the
hypotheses of all who profess to teach it.

The effects, moral and intellectual, of the study and
practice OF the law is a subject to which I could not have
done justice within the limits of a single lecture, even had I
confined myself to that one department. For, the Law, —
especially considered in this point of view, — is not one pro-

PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER.

17

fession, but many — a Judge, an Attorney, a Solicitor, a Com-
mon-Law Barrister, a Chancery Barrister, a Special Pleader,
&c, are all occupied with Law ; but widely different are the
effects, advantageous and disadvantageous, likely to be pro-
duced on their minds by their respective occupations1.

On this point I have thrown out a slight hint in a treatise
on logic (the joint work of Bishop Copies ton and myself), from
which I will take the liberty of citing a short passage:
[Book IV. Chap. III. §§ 1. 2.]

" Reasoning comprehends inferring and proving ; which are
not two different things, but the same thing regarded in two
different points of view : like the road from London to York,
and the road from York to London. He who infers, proves ;
and he who proves, infers; but the word ' infer' fixes the mind
first on the premiss, and then on the conclusion ; the word
' prove,' on the contrary, leads the mind from the conclusion to
the premiss. Hence, the substantives derived from these words
respectively, are often used to express that which, on each

1 It is worth remarking that there is
one point wherein some branches of the
Law differ from others, and agree with
some Professions of a totally different
class. Superior ability and professional
skill, in a Judge, a Solicitor, or a Con-
veyancer, are, if combined with integrity,
a public benefit. They confer a service
on certain individuals, not at the expense
of any others : and the death or retire-
ment of a man thus qualified, is a loss
to the community. And the same may
be said of a Physician, a Manufacturer,
a Navigator, &c. of extraordinary ability.
A Pleader, on the contrary, of powers
far above the average, is not, as such,
serviceable to the Public. He obtains
wealth and credit for himself and his
family; but any especial advantage ac-
cruing from his superior ability, to those
who chance to be his clients, is just so
much loss to those he chances to be op-
posed to : and which party is, on each
occasion, in the right, must be regarded
W. E.

as an even chance. His death, therefore,
would be no loss to the Public ; only, to
those particular persons who might have
benefited by his superior abilities, at
their opponents' expense. It is not that
Advocates, generally, are not useful to
the Public. They are even necessary.
But extraordinary ability in an Advo-
cate, is an advantage only to himself and
his friends. To the Public, the most de-
sirable thing is, that Pleaders should be
as equally matched as possible ; so that
neither John Doe nor Richard Roe should
have any advantage independent of the
goodness of his cause. Extraordinary
ability in an Advocate may indeed raise
him to great wealth, or to a seat on the
B^nch, or in the Senate ; and he may
use these advantages — as many illustri-
ous examples show, greatly to the public
benefit But then, it is not as an Advo-
cate, directly, but as a rich man, as a
Judge, or as a Senator, that he thus
benefits his Country.

c

18 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. i.

occasion, is last in the mind ; inference being often used to
signify the conclusion (i.e. proposition inferred) and proof —
the premiss. We say, also, ' How do you prove that ? ' and
' What do you infer from that?' which sentences would not be
so properly expressed if we were to transpose those verbs.
One might, therefore, define proving^ ' the assigning of a reason
or argument for the support of a given proposition;' and
inferring, ' the deduction of a conclusion from given premises.'

" In the one case our Conclusion is given (i.e., set before us
as the Question) and we have to seek for arguments ; in the
other, our premises are given, and we have to seek for a
Conclusion — i.e., to put together our own Propositions, and try
what will follow from them ; or, to speak more logically, in one
case, we seek to refer the Subject of which we would predicate
something to a Class to which that Predicate will (affirmatively
or negatively) apply; in the other, we seek to find compre-
hended in the Subject of which we have predicated something,
some other term to which that Predicate had not been before
applied. Each of these is a definition of reasoning. To infer,
then, is the business of the Philosopher; to prove, of the
Advocate ; the former, from the great mass of known and
admitted truths, wishes to elicit any valuable additional truth
whatever, that has been hitherto unperceived; and perhaps with-
out knowing with certainty what will be the terms of his con-
clusion. Thus the Mathematician, e.g., seeks to ascertain what
is the ratio of circles to each other, or what is the line whose
square will be equal to a given circle. The Advocate, on the
other hand, has a proposition put before him, which he is to
maintain as well as he can. His business, therefore, is to find
Middle-terms (which is the inventio of Cicero) ; the Philosopher's
to combine and select known facts or principles, suitably for
gaining from them conclusions which, though implied in the
premises, were before unperceived; in other words, for making
' logical discoveries.' "

To this I will take the liberty of adding another short
extract from the treatise on rhetoric ; which may furnish a

U5CT. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 19

hint as to a class of dangers common to men of every pursuit
and profession ; that of a person supposing himself, from having
been long conversant with a certain subject, to be qualified for
every kind of business, or of discussion that relates to the same
subject:— [Rhet., Part II. Chap. III. § 5.] "The longest
practice in conducting any business in one way, does not neces-
sarily confer any experience in conducting it in a different way.
JE.G.,axi experienced husbandman, or minister of state, in Persia,
would be much at a loss in Europe; and if they had some
things less to learn than an entire novice, on the other hand
they would have much to wwlearn ; and, again, merely being
conversant about a certain class of subjects, does not confer
experience in a case where the operations and the end proposed
are different. It is said that there was an Amsterdam merchant,
who had dealt largely in corn all his life, who had never seen a
field of wheat growing. This man had doubtless acquired, by
experience, an accurate judgment of the qualities of each
description of corn — of the best methods of storing it, — of the
arts of buying and selling it at proper times, &c. ; but he
would have been greatly at a loss in its cultivation, though he
had been, in a certain way, long conversant about corn. Nearly
similar is the experience of a practised lawyer, (supposing him
to be nothing more,) in a case of legislation. Because he has
been long conversant about law, the unreflecting attribute
great weight to his judgment : whereas his constant habits of
fixing his thoughts on what the law is, and withdrawing it
from the irrelevant question of what the law ought to be, — his
careful observance of a multitude of rules, (which afford the
more scope for the display of his skill, in proportion as they
are arbitrary, unreasonable, and unaccountable,) with a studied
indifference as to (that which is foreign from his business,) the
convenience or inconvenience of those rules — may be expected
to operate unfavourably on his judgment in questions of legis-
lation; and are likely to counterbalance the advantages of his
superior knowledge, even in such points as do bear on the
question."

c3

20 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. I.

And here I may remark by the way, that a person -engaged
habitually in State affairs — a Politician by profession — ought
to be peculiarly on his guard against supposing his mode of
life to generate especial qualifications in those very points in
which its tendency is, — unless particular care be ta,ken to guard
against the danger, — to produce rather a disqualification. Who
is likely to be the best judge (other points being equal) it might
be asked, of the relative importance of political questions ? At
the first glance many would be disposed to answer, " Of course,
a politician." But the disproportionate attention necessarily
bestowed on different questions, according as they are or are
not made party -questions — the fields of battle on which the
contests for political superiority are to be carried on — inde-
pendently of the intrinsic importance of each — this is a cause
which must be continually operating to disturb the judgment
of one practically engaged in politics. Every one at all versed
in history must be acquainted with many instances of severe
and protracted struggles concerning matters which are now
remembered only on account of the struggles they occasioned ;
and again, of enactments materially affecting the welfare of
unborn millions, which hardly attracted any notice at the time,
and were slipped into one of the heterogeneous clauses of an
Act of Parliament.

Precluded, then, as I find myself, for the reasons above
mentioned, from entering fully on the consideration of the
several departments of legal study and practice, I will detain
you only with a few brief hints respecting some of the dangers
to be guarded against from the barrister's profession.

He is, as I have already observed, in less danger than a
Clergyman, of settling down into some confirmed incorrect view of
any particular points connected with his profession ; both for
the reason there given, — there being a Court on earth to
correct any mistake he may make ; — and also because having
to plead various causes, he is called upon to extenuate to-day
what he aggravated yesterday, — to attach more or less weight,
at different times, to the same kind of evidence — to impugn,

lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 21

and to enforce, the same principles, according as the interests
of his clients may require.

But this very circumstance must evidently have a tendency,
which ought to be sedulously guarded against, to alienate the
mind from the investigation of truth. Bishop Butler observes,
and laments, that it is very common for men to have " a
curiosity to know what is said, but no curiosity to know what
is true.'''' Now none can be (other points being equal) more
in need of being put on his guard against this fault, than he
who is professionally occupied with a multitude of cases, in
each of which he is to consider what may be plausibly urged on
both sides ; while the question what ought to he the decision, is
out of his province as a Pleader. I am supposing him not to
be seeking to mislead a Judge or Jury by urging fallacious
arguments : but there will often be sound and valid arguments —
real probabilities — on opposite sides. A Judge, or any one
whose business is to ascertain truth, is to decide according to
the preponderance of the reasons ; but the Pleader's business is
merely to set forth, as forcibly as possible, those on his own
side. And if he thinks that the habitual practice of this has
no tendency to generate in him, morally, any indifference, or
intellectually, any incompetence, in respect of the ascertainment
of truth, — if he consider himself quite safe from any such
danger, — I should then say that he is in very great danger.

I have been supposing (as has been said) that he is one who
would scruple to mislead wilfully a Judge or Jury by specious
sophistry, or to seek to embarrass an honest witness, and bring
his testimony into discredit ; but there is no denying that he is
under a great temptation even to resort to this. Nay, it has
even been maintained by no mean authority, that it is part of a
Pleader's duty to have no scruples about this or any other act
whatever that may benefit his client. " There are many whom
it may be needful to remind," says an eminent lawyer, " that
an Advocate, by the sacred duty of his connexion with his client,
knows in the discharge of that office but one person in the
world — that client and none other. To serve that client by all

22 INFLUENCES OF THE [leCT. x.

expedient means, to protect that client at all hazards and costs
to all others (even the party already injured) and amongst
others to himself, is the highest and most unquestioned of his
duties. And he must not regard the alarm, the suffering, the
torment, the destruction, which he may bring upon any others.
Nay, separating even the duties of a patriot from those of an
advocate, he must go on, reckless of the consequences, if his
fate should unhappily he to involve his country in confusion for
his client." — [Licence of Counsel, p. 3.]

On the other hand it is recorded that " Sir Matthew Hale,
whenever he was convinced of the injustice of any cause, would
engage no more in it than to explain to his client the grounds
of that conviction ; he abhorred the practice of misreciting
evidence, quoting precedents in books falsely or unfairly, so as
to deceive ignorant juries or inattentive judges ; and he adhered
to the same scrupulous sincerity in his pleadings which he
observed in the other transactions of life. It was as great a
dishonour as a man was capable of, that for a little money he
was hired to say otherwise than he thought." — [Licence of
Counsel, p. 4.]

" The Advocate," says another eminent legal writer, " ob-
serving in an honest witness a deponent whose testimony
promises to be adverse, assumes terrific tones and deportment,
and, pretending to find dishonesty on the part of the witness,
strives to give his testimony the appearance of it. I say a
"bona fide witness ; for in the case of a witness who, by an ad-
verse interrogator, is really looked upon as dishonest, this is not
the proper course, nor is it taken with him. For bringing to
light the falsehood of a witness really believed to be mendacious,
the more suitable, or rather the only suitable course is to for-
bear to express the impression he has inspired. Supposing his
tale clear of suspicion, the witness runs on his course with
fluency till he is entangled in some irretrievable contradiction,
at variance with other parts of his own story, or with facts
notorious in themselves, or established by proofs from other
sources." — [Licence of Coansel, p. 5.]

lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 23

" We happen to be aware, from the practice of persons of
the highest experience in the examination of witnesses, that this
description is almost without exception correct, and that, as a
general rule, it is only the honest and timid witness who is con-
founded by imperious deportment. The practice gives pre-
eminence to the unscrupulous witness who can withstand such
assaults. Sir Roger North, in his Life of Sir Dudley North,
relates that the law of Turkey, like our absurd law of evidence
in some cases, required the testimony of two witnesses in proof
of each fact ; and that a practice had in consequence arisen,
and had obtained the sanction of general opinion, of using a
false witness in proof of those facts which admitted of only one
witness. Sir Dudley North, while in Turkey, had numerous
disputes, which it became necessary to settle by litigation, —
1 and,' says his biographer, c our merchant found by experience,
that in a direct fact a false witness was a surer card than a
true one ; for if the judge has a mind to baffle a testimony, an
honest, harmless witness, that doth not know his play, cannot
so well stand his many captious questions as a false witness used
to the trade will do; for he hath been exercised, and is prepared
for such handling, and can clear himself, when the other will be
confounded : therefore circumstances may be such as to make the
false one more eligible.' "

According to one, then, of the writers I have cited, an Ad-
vocate is justified, and is fulfilling a duty, not only in protesting
with solemnity his own full conviction of the justice of his
client's cause, though he may feel no such conviction, — not only
in feigning various emotions, (like an actor ; except that the
actor's credit consists in its being known that he is only
feigning,) such as pity, indignation, moral approbation, or dis-
gust, or contempt, when he neither feels any thing of the kind,
nor believes the case to be one that justly calls for such
feelings ; but he is also occasionally to entrap or mislead, to
revile, insult, and calumniate persons whom he may in his
heart believe to be respectable persons and honest witnesses.
Another on the contrary observes : " We might ask our learned

24 INFLUENCES OF TIIE [lect. i.

friend and fellow-christian, as well as the learned and noble
editor of Paleijs Natural Theology, and his other fellow-pro-
fessors of the religion which says ' that lying lips are an abomi-
nation to the Lord,' to. explain to us how they reconcile the
practice under their rule, with the christian precepts, or avoid
the solemn scriptural denunciation — ' Wo unto them that call
evil good, and good evil ; that put darkness for light, and
light for darkness ; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for
bitter; . . . which justify the wicked for reward, and take
away the righteousness of the righteous from him.' " — [Licence
of Counsel, p. 10.]

I have brought forward by choice the opinions of legal
writers, both for and against the necessity and allowableness of
certain practices ; leaving each person to decide for himself both
what is the right course for a Pleader to pursue, and what is
the probable effect produced on the mind by the course pursued
respectively by each. I will add only one remark, extracted
from a work of my own, indicative of my own judgment as to
the points touched on.

" In oral examination of witnesses, a skilful cross-examiner
will often elicit from a reluctant witness most important truths,
which the witness is desirous of concealing or disguising. There
is another kind of skill, which consists in so alarming, mis-
leading, or bewildering an honest witness, as to throw discredit
on his testimony, or pervert the effect of it. Of this kind of
art, which may be characterised as the most, or one of the
most, base and depraved of all possible employments of intel-
lectual power, I shall only make one further observation. I am
convinced that the most effectual mode of eliciting truth, is
quite different from that by which an honest, simple-minded
witness is most easily baffled and confused. I have seen the
experiment tried, of subjecting a witness to such a kind of
cross-examination by a practised lawyer, as would have been, I
am convinced, the most likely to alarm and perplex many an
honest witness, without any effect in shaking the testimony ; and
afterwards, by a totally opposite mode of examination, such as

lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 25

■would not have at all perplexed one who was honestly telling
the truth, that same witness was drawn on, step by step, to
acknowledge the utter falsity of the whole. Generally speaking,
I believe that a quiet, gentle, and straightforward, though full
and careful, examination, will be the most adapted to elicit
truth ; and that the manoeuvres, and the brow-beating, which
are the most adapted to confuse an honest witness, are just what
the dishonest one is the best prepared for. The more the storm
blusters, the more carefully he wraps round him the cloak,
which a warm sunshine will often induce him to throw off1."

I have thought it best, for the reasons formerly given, to
omit all notice of the advantages to be derived from each class
of professional pursuits, and to confine myself to the dangers
which are to be guarded against, and which consequently
require to be carefully contemplated. Even in respect of these,
however, I have been compelled, not only to omit many remarks
that will perhaps occur to your own minds, relative to each of
the Professions I have spoken of, but also to leave several of
the most important Professions wholly unnoticed, (the Military,
the Naval, the Mercantile, &c.) not from their not exercising
as important an influence, for good or evil, on the human mind,
as those which I have mentioned, but because I could not tres-
pass further on your patience ; and also, because I conceive
that any one, in whatever walk of life, whose attention is so
awakened to that class of considerations which I have laid
before you, as to be put on the watch for the peculiar effects on
hia own character likely to result from his own Profession, will
be induced to follow up the investigation for himself, to his own
practical benefit.

1 Ehetorie, Part I. Chap. II. \ 4.

LECTURE II.

ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION.

A subject on which I have for many years bestowed con-
siderable attention, as appearing to me both very curious, and,
in many respects, highly important (much more so than many
suppose), is, the Origin of Civilisation. And I propose to lay
before you a small portion of the results of my researches, and
reflections thereupon ; which will, I trust, be found not un-
interesting or un instructive.

Every one who is at all acquainted with works of ancient
history, or of voyages and travels, or who has conversed with
persons that have visited distant regions, must have been
greatly struck (if possessing at all a thoughtful and intelligent
mind) with the vast difference between civilised Man and the
savage. If you look to the very lowest and rudest races that
inhabit the earth, you behold Beings sunk almost to the level of
the brute-creation, and, in some points, even below the brutes.
Ignorant and thoughtless, gross in their tastes, filthy in their
habits, with the passions of men, but with the intellect of little
children, they roam, half-naked and half-starved, over districts
which might be made to support in plenty and in comfort
as many thousands of civilised Europeans as there are' indi-
viduals in the savage tribe. And they are sunk, for the most
part, quite as low, morally, as they are intellectually. Poly-
gamy, in its most gross and revolting form, and infanticide,
prevail among most savage tribes ; and cannibalism among
many. And the sick or helplessly aged are usually abandoned

lect. ii.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 27

by their relatives, to starve, or to be devoured by wild beasts.
Even in bodily person they differ greatly from the civilised
man. They are not only, in general, very ugly and ill-made,
but, in the structure of their limbs, and especially in the
head and face, they approach considerably to animals of the
ape tribe ; and the countenance is usually expressive of a
mixture of stupidity, ferocity, and something of suspiciousness
and low cunning.

If you compare together merely the very lowest of savages
and the most highly civilised specimens of the European races,
you will be at first inclined to doubt whether they can all
belong to the same Species. But though the very topmost
round of the ladder is at a vast distance from the ground,
there are numerous steps between them, each but a very little
removed from that next above and that next below it. The
savages whom we found in Van Diemen's Land, and of whom
there is now but a very small remnant, and others of the same
race, — the Papuan, — who are found widely scattered over the
South-eastern regions of the globe, — the people of Tierra del
Fuego, in the Southern extremity of America, — and again,
the Bushmen-Hottentots in the neighbourhood of the Cape
Colony (some specimens of whom were not long since exhibited
in this country), seem to be the lowest of savages. But one
might find specimens of the human race, to the number of
perhaps twenty or more, gradually ascending by successive
steps, from these, up to the most civilised nations upon the
earth ; each, not very far removed from the one below and the
one above it; though the two extremes present such a pro-
digious contrast.

As for the alleged advantages of savage life — the freedom
enjoyed by Man in a wild state, and the pure simplicity, and
innocence, and magnanimous generosity of character that he
exhibits — I need not, I trust, detain you by offering proofs
that all this exists only in poems and romances, and in the
imagination of their readers ; or in the theories of such philo-
sophers as the well-known Rousseau, who have undertaken to

28 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lect. u.

ma'ntain a monstrous paradox because it affords the best
exercise for their ingenuity, and who perhaps have ended in
being themselves bewildered by that very ingenuity of their
own, like a spider entangled in the web spun by herself. The
liberty enjoyed by the savage, consists in his being left free
to oppress and plunder any one who is weaker than himself,
and in being exposed to the same treatment from those who are
stronger. His boasted simplicity consists merely in grossness
of taste, improvidence, and ignorance. And his virtue merely
amounts to this, that though not less covetous, envious, and
malicious than civilised Man, he wants the skill to be as dan-
gerous as one of equally depraved character, but more intelligent
and better informed.

I have heard it remarked, however, by persons not destitute

of intelligence, as a presumption in favour of savage life, that

it has sometimes been voluntarily embraced by civilised men ;

while, on the other hand, it has seldom if ever happened that a

. savage has consented to conform to civilised life.

But this is easily explained, even from the very inferiority
of the savage state. It is easier to sink than to rise. To lay
aside or lose what we have, is far easier than to acquire what
we have not. The savage has no taste for the enjoyments of
civilised life. Its pursuits and occupations are what he wants
capacity to enjoy, or understand, or sympathise with. On the
other hand, the pursuits and gratifications (such as they are)
of the savage, are what the civilised man can fully understand
and partake of; and if he does but throw aside and disregard
the higher portion of his nature, he can enter heartily into
the enjoyments of a hunting tribe of wild Indians, whose
business is the same as the recreation of the sportsman, and
who alternate the labours of the chase with torpid repose and
sensual indulgence.

In short, the case is nearly the same as with the resem-
blance, and the distinction, between Man and the brute crea-
tures. Man is an animal as well as they. He has much in
common with them, and something more besides. Both have

lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 29

the same appetites, and many of the same passions ; but the
brutes lack most of the intellectual and moral faculties ; and
hence, a brute cannot be raised into a man, though it is
possible, as we too often find, for a man to sink himself nearly
into a brute, by giving himself up to mere animal gratifications,
and neglecting altogether the nobler and more properly human
portion of himself.

It may be worth remarking, before I quit this portion of
the subject, that persons not accustomed to accuracy of think-
ing, are often misled by the differences of form, and conse-
quently of name, under which the same evils may be found in
different states of society ; and consequently are inclined to
suppose that others may be exempt from such vices and other
evils as prevail among ourselves, inasmuch as they cannot have
exactly the same under the same titles. Where there is no
property in land, for instance, there cannot be a grasping and
oppressive landlord ; where there is no trade, there can be no
bankrupts ; and where money is unknown, the love of money,
which is our common designation of avarice, cannot exist.
And thence the unthinking are perhaps led to imagine that
avarice itself has no place in the savage state, and that oppres-
sion, and cruelty, and rapacity, and ruin, must be there un-
known.

But the savage is commonly found to be covetous, often
thievish, when his present inclination impels him towards any
objects he needs, or which his fancy is set on. He is not,
indeed, so steady, or so provident, in his pursuit of gain as the
civilised man; but this is from the general unsteadiness and
improvidence of his character ; not from his being engrossed
by higher pursuits. What keeps him poor, in addition to in-
security of property and want of skill, is, not a philosophical
contempt of riches, but a love of sluggish torpor and of present
gratification. Lamentable as it is to see multitudes — as we
may among ourselves — of Beings of such high qualifications
and such high destination as Man, absorbed in the pursuit of
merely external and merely temporal objects, — occupied in

30 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [am. rr.

schemes for attaining worldly wealth and aggrandisement for
its own sake, and without reference to any higher object, —
we should remember that the savage is not above such a life,
but below it. It is not from preferring virtue to wealth, — the
goods of the mind to those of fortune, — the next world to the
present, — that he takes so little thought for the morrow ; but
from want of forethought, and of habitual self-control. The
civilised man too often directs these qualities to unworthy
objects ; the savage, universally, is deficient in the qualities
themselves. The one is a stream flowing too often in a wrong
channel, and which needs to have its course altered ; the other
is a stagnant pool.

Such is Man in what is commonly called a " state of nature."
But it can hardly be called with propriety Man's " natural state ;"
since in it a large proportion of his faculties remain dormant and
undeveloped. A plant would not be said to be in its most natural
state when growing in a soil or climate that would not allow it
to put forth the flowers and the fruit for which its organisation
was destined. Any one who saw the pine-trees high up on the
Alps, when growing near the boundary of perpetual snow,
stunted to the height of two or three feet, and struggling to
exist amidst rock and ice, would hardly describe that as the
natural state of a tree which, in a more genial soil and climate
a little lower down, was found towering to the height of fifty or
sixty yards. In like manner, the natural state of Man must,
according to all fair analogy, be reckoned, not that in which
his intellectual and moral growth are as it were stunted and
permanently repressed, but one in which his original endow-
ments are — I do not say brought to perfection, but — enabled
to exercise themselves, and to expand like the foliage and
flowers of a plant ; and especially in which that characteristic
of our species, the tendency towards progressive improvement,
is permitted to come into play.

If, however, Man is not to be reckoned in a perfectly natural
state when he has acquired anything from others, then, even the
savage would not answer to the definition ; since language, we

lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 31

all know, is a thing learnt ; and a child brought up (as it is
supposed some have been, who were lost, or purposely exposed
in infancy) by a wild goat, or some other brute, and without
any intercourse with human creatures, would grow up speech-
less ; as we know those do who, being deaf-born, are precluded
from learning to speak. Now hardly any one would call dumb-
ness the natural state of Man.

The savage, then, is only so far in (comparatively) a state
of nature, that the arts which he learns and transmits to his
children are very few, and very rude. And yet it is remark-
able that in many respects savage life is decidedly more
artificial — more anti-natural — than the civilised. The most
elaborately dressed fine lady or gentleman has departed far less
from nature, than a savage of most of the rudest tribes we know
of. Most of these not only paint their skins with a variety of
fantastic colours, but tattoo them, or decorate their bodies
(which is the New Hollander's practice) with rows of large
artificial scars. The marriage ceremony among some of these
tribes is marked, not by putting a ring on the woman's finger,
but by cutting off one of the joints of it. And in those same
tribes, every male, when approaching man's estate, is formally
admitted as coming of age, by the ceremony of having one of
his front teeth knocked out. Some of them wear a long orna-
ment of bone thrust through the middle cartilage of the nose,
so as to make the speech indistinct. Other tribes cut a slit in
the under lip, so as to make a sort of artificial second mouth,
in which they fix some kind of fantastic ornament. And some
tribes, again, artificially flatten, by pressure, the forehead of
their infants, so as to bring the head even nearer than nature
has formed it, to a resemblance to that of a brute.

And their customs are not less artificial than their external
decorations. To take only one instance out of many : marriage,
among the most civilised nations of Europe, usually takes place
between persons who, living in the same society, and becoming
well-acquainted, contract a mutual liking for each other ; and
surely this is the most natural course: but among the Aus-

32 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lect. n.

tralian savages, such a marriage is unheard of, and would be
counted an abomination; a wife must always be taken, and
taken by force, from another, — generally a hostile tribe ; and
the intended bride must be dragged away with brutal violence
and most unmerciful blows.

Such is Man in what is called a state of nature !

I have given a very brief and slight sketch of the differences
between the savage and the civilised condition ; but sufficient,
I trust, for the present purpose. Those who may wish to
investigate the subject more fully, may find much interesting
and curious information on it, in a little book (written at
my suggestion) by the late Dr. Cooke Taylor, entitled The
Natural History of Society. What I have now been saying
was designed merely as a necessary introduction to the great
and interesting inquiry, How ivas civilisation originally intro-
duced? Were the earliest generations of mankind savages?
And if so, how came any of our race ever to rise above that
condition ?

It has been very commonly taken for granted, not only by
writers among the ancient heathen, but by modern authors, that
the savage state was the original one, and that mankind, or
some portion of mankind, gradually raised themselves from it by
the unaided exercise of their own faculties. I say u taken for
granted," because one does not usually meet with any attempt
to establish this by proof, or even any distinct statement of it ;
but it is assumed, as something about which there can be no
manner of doubt. You may hear plausible descriptions given
of a supposed race of savages subsisting on wild fruits, herbs,
and roots, and on the precarious supplies of hunting and fish-
ing ; and then, of the supposed process by which they emerged
from this state, and gradually invented the various arts of life,
till they became a decidedly civilised people. One man, it has
been supposed, wishing to save himself the trouble of roaming
through the woods in search of wild fruits and roots, would
bethink himself of collecting the seeds of these, and cultivating
them in a plot of ground cleared and broken up for the purpose.

lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 33

And finding that he could thus raise more than enough for him-
self, he might agree with some of his neighbours to exchange a
part of his produce for some of the game or fish taken by them.
Another man again, it has been supposed, would contrive to
save himself the labour and uncertainty of hunting, by catching
some kinds of wild animals alive, and keeping them in an
enclosure to breed, that he might have a supply always at hand.
And again others, it is supposed, might devote themselves to
the occupation of dressing skins for clothing, or of building
huts or canoesr or of making bows and arrows, or various kinds
of tools ; each exchanging his productions with his neighbours
for food. And each, by devoting his attention to some one
kind of manufacture, would acquire increased skill in that, and
would strike out new inventions.

And thus these supposed savages, having in this way
become divided into husbandmen t shepherds, and artisans of
several kinds, would begin to enjoy the various advantages of
a " division of labour,'* and would advance, step by step, in all
the arts of civilised life.

Such descriptions as the above, of what it is supposed has
actually taken place, or of what possibly might take place, are
likely to appear plausible, at the first glance, to those who do
not inquire carefully and reflect attentively. But, on exami-
nation, all these suppositions will be found to be completely at
variance with all history, and inconsistent with the character of
such Beings as real savages actually are. Such a process of
inventions and improvements as that just described is what we
may safely say never did, and never possibly can, take place in
any tribe of savages left wholly to themselves.

As for the ancient Germans, and the Britons and Gauls,
all of whom we have pretty full accounts of in the works of
Caesar and of Tacitus, they did indeed fall considerably short, in
civilisation, of the Greeks and Romans, who were accustomed
to comprehend under the one sweeping term of "barbarians"
all nations except themselves. But it would be absurd to
reckon as savages, nations which, according to the authors
w. e. D

34 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lect. ii.

just mentioned, cultivated their land, kept cattle, employed
horses in their wars, and made use of metals for their weapons
and other instruments. A people so far advanced as that,
would not be unlikely, under favourable circumstances, to
advance further still, and to attain, step by step, to a high
degree of civilisation.

But as for savages properly so styled — that is, people
sunk as low, or anything near as low, as many tribes that our
voyagers have made us acquainted with — there is no one
instance recorded of any of them rising into a civilised con-
dition, or, indeed, rising at all, without instruction and assist-
ance from people already civilised. We have numerous ac-
counts of various savage tribes, in different parts of the globe
— in hot countries and in cold, in fertile and in barren, in
maritime and in inland situations — who have been visited
from time to time, at considerable intervals, by navigators, but
have had no settled intercourse with civilised people ; and all
of them appear to have continued, from age to age, in the
same rude condition. Of the savages of Tierra del Fuego,
for instance, it is remarked by Mr. Darwin, the naturalist
(who was in the " Beagle" on its second voyage of discovery),
that they, " in one respect, resemble the brute animals, inas-
much as they make no improvements." As birds, for instance,
which have an instinct for building nests, build them, each
species, just as at first, after countless generations ; so it is,
says he, with these people. " Their canoe, which is their
most skilful work of art — and a wretched canoe it is — is
exactly the same as 250 years ago." The New Zealanders,
again, whom Tasman first discovered in 1642, and who were
visited for the second time by Cook, 127 years after, were
found by him exactly in the same condition. And yet these
last were very far from being in as low a state as the New
Hollanders ; for they cultivated the ground, raising crops of
the Cumera (or sweet potato), and clothed themselves, not
with skins, but with mats woven by themselves. Subsequently,
the country has, as you are aware, been made a British

lect. ii.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 35

colony ; and though their first intercourse with European
settlers was under the most unfavourable circumstances — many
of those who first came among them being most worthless
characters, who were often engaged in bloody contests with
them — still the result has been that they have renounced can-
nibalism, and the greater part of them have become Christians,
reading the Bible in their own language, and fast adopting
European habits. Their own language, the Maori (that is
their own name of their nation), most of them can read and
write. And, besides the Bible, several little popular tracts
of mine have been translated into it, under the superintendence
of the late Governor, Sir George Grey, and ai*e, he tells me,
eagerly read by them.

Then again, if we look to ancient historical records and
traditions concerning nations that are reported to have risen
from a savage to a civilised state, we find that in every instance
they appear to have had the advantage of the instruction
and example of civilised men living among them. They always
have some tradition of some foreigner, or some Being from
heaven, as having first taught them the arts of life. Thus,
the ancient Greeks attributed to Prometheus, a supposed super-
human Being, the introduction of the use of fire ; and they
represented Triptolemus, and Cadmus, and others, strangers
from a distant country, as introducing agriculture and other
arts. The Peruvians, again, have a like tradition respecting
a person they call Mancocapac, whom they represent as the
offspring of the sun, and as having taught useful arts to their
ancestors. If it be true, as I have heard, that the name
signifies in the Peruvian language " white," it is not unlikely
that he was a European, and that the fable of his descent from
the sun may have arisen from his pointing to the sun-rising —
the east — to indicate the country he came from.

But there is no need to inquire, even if we could do so
with any hope of success, what mixture there may be of truth
and fable in any of these traditions. For our present purpose
it is enough to have pointed out that they all agree in one

d3

36 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [LECt. it.

thing, in representing civilisation as having been introduced
(whenever it has been introduced) not from within, but from
without.

We have, therefore, in this case all the proof that a nega-
tive admits of. In all the few instances in which there is
any record or tradition of a savage people becoming civilised,
we have a corresponding record or tradition of their having
been aided by instructors; and in all the (very numerous)
cases we know of in which savages have been left to themselves,
they appear never to have advanced one step. The experi-
ment, as it may be called, has been going on in various
regions for many ages ; and it appears to have never once
succeeded.

Perhaps the fanciful and pleasing picture of savages raising
themselves into civilisation, which I just now put before you,
may appear so natural, that you may be disposed to wonder
why it should apparently have never been realised. When
you try to fancy yourself in the situation of a savage, it may
perhaps occur to you that you would set your mind to work to
contrive means for bettering your condition, and that you
might hit upon such and such useful and very obvious contri-
vances: and hence you may be led to think it natural that
savages should do so, and that some tribes of them may have
advanced themselves in the way above described, without any
external help. But what leads some persons to fancy this
possible (though it appears to have never really occurred) is,
that they themselves are not savages, but have some degree of
mental cultivation, and some of the habits of thought of civilised
men. And they imagine themselves merely destitute of the
knowledge of some things which they actually know; but they
cannot succeed in divesting themselves, in imagination, of the
civilised character. And hence they form to themselves an
incorrect notion of what a savage really is; just as a person
possessed of eyesight finds it difficult to understand correctly
the condition of one born blind.

Any one can easily judge, by simply shutting his eyes,

lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 37

or going into a dark room, what it is to be blind ; and thence
he may be led to suppose that he understands — which is a far
different thing — what it is to have been always blind.

When Bishop Berkeley demonstrated by mathematical
reasoning that a person born blind and acquiring sight (of
which, at that time, there was no actual instance),, would not
be able at first to distinguish by the eye the most dissimilar
objects — such as a cube and a globe — which he had been
accustomed to handle, he was considered as maintaining a
great paradox. Afterwards, when the operation of couching
for cataract had been successfully performed on a youth born
blind, the Bishop's demonstration was confirmed by the trial.
It was a considerable time before the lad could learn to distin-
guish, without handling, the dog and the cat, with which he
had long been familiar.

Now, the difficulty we have in fully understanding the con-
dition of one born blind, is similar to that of a civilised man in
representing to himself correctly the character of those wholly
uncivilised. Persons, however, who have actually seen much of
real savages, have observed that they are not only feeble in
mental powers, but also sluggish in the use of such powers as
they have, except when urged by pressing want. When not
thus urged, they pass their time in torpid inactivity, or else in
dancing, and various childish sports, or in decorating their
bodies with paint and with feathers, flowers,, and shells. They
are not only brutishly stupid, but still more characterised by
childish thoughtlessness and improvidence; so that it never
occurs to them to reflect how they may put themselves in a
better condition a year or two hence. The New Hollanders,
for instance, roam about the woods and plains in search of some
few eatable roots which their country produces, and which they
laboriously dig up with sharpened sticks. But though they are
often half-starved, and though they have to expend as much toil
for three or four scanty meals of these roots as would suffice for
breaking up and planting a piece of ground that would supply
them for a year, it has never occurred to them to attempt culti-

38

ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION.

[LECT. II.

vating these roots ; no, not even when they have been near enough
to the settlers to see the operations of agriculture going on.

For, savages not only seem never to devise anything spon-
taneously, but moreover, the very lowest of them are so indocile,
that even when they do come within reach of the influence of
civilised men, it requires much skill, and very great patience,
and a considerable length of time, to bring them to avail them-
selves of the examples and instruction put before them. Defoe,
in his Robinson Crusoe, though he does represent the Brazilian
savages as just such ignorant and ferocious Beings as they really
are, attributes to them a docility and an intelligence far beyond
the reality. He commits the mistake I was just now adverting
to, of representing the savage as wanting merely the knowledge
that is possessed by civilised men, and as not deficient in
the civilised character. And, accordingly, Crusoe's man
Friday, and the other savages who are brought among the
Europeans, are represented as receiving civilisation far more
speedily and far more completely than the actual Brazilian
savages, or any others like them, ever have done, in the first
generation.

The original condition of those savages was lower than that
of the New Zealanders ; and yet he has allotted hardly so many
months for their civilisation as it took years to bring the New
Zealanders, under the most careful and laborious training, up to
the same point. If Defoe had represented his savages with the
stupidity, indocility, and inattention, which really characterise
such races, and had, accordingly, made their advancement far
slower, and more imperfect, than he has, he would have been
more true to nature, but would probably have appeared to most
readers less natural than he does ; because most readers have
formed precisely the same erroneous conception of the savage
character, as himself1.

1 A few years ago, some tales ac-
quired considerable popularity, of which
the scenes were laid in Ireland, and in
the West Indies. The descriptions were

vivid and striking, and the stories well
got up. And though the representations
given were perceived, by those really
acquainted with those countries re-

lect. ii.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 89

Since it appears, then, a complete moral certainty that men
left unassisted in what is called a state of nature, — that is, with
the faculties Man is born with not at all unfolded or exercised
by education, — never did, and never can, raise themselves from
that condition : the question next arising is, When and how did
civilisation first originate ? How comes it that the whole world
is not peopled exclusively with savages ?

Such would evidently have been the case if the human race
had always from the first been left without any instruction from
some superior Being, and yet had been able to subsist at all.
But there is strong reason to doubt whether even this bare sub-
sistence would have been possible. It is most likely that the
first generation would all have perished for want of that scanty
knowledge, and those few rude arts which even savages possess,
and which probably did not originate with them (for savages
seem never to discover or invent anything), but are remnants
which they have retained from a more civilised state. The
knowledge, for instance, of wholesome and of poisonous roots
and fruits, the arts of making fish-hooks and nets, bows and
arrows, or darts, and snares for wild animals, and of construct-
ing rude huts and canoes, with tools made of sharp stones, and
some other such simple arts, are possessed more or less by all
savages ; and are necessary to enable them to support life. And
men left wholly untaught would probably all perish before they
could acquire for themselves this absolutely indispensable
knowledge.

For, Man, we should remember, is, when left wholly un-
taught, far less fitted for supporting and taking care of himself
than the brutes. These are far better provided both with
instincts and with bodily organs, for supplying their own wants.

spectively, to be as wide of the reality as
tbe figures of lions and elephants on
Chinese porcelain, this formed no ob-

eeptions. And a really eorreet repre-
sentation would probably have been less
approved than the one given. The " live

jection to ninety-nine hundredths of the pig" — according to the well-known Fa-
readers, who were as ignorant of the j ble — would have been judged by the
true state of things as the writer, and I audience to squeak less naturally than
had probably formed similar miscon- ' the imitator.

40 ON THE ORIGIN OP CIVILISATION. [lect. n.

For instance, those animals that have occasion to dig either for
food, or to make burrows for shelter, such as the swine, the
mole, the hedgehog, and the rabbit, have, both an instinct for
digging, and also snouts or paws far better adapted for that
purpose than Man's hands. Yet Man is enabled to turn up the
ground much better than any brute; but then, this is by the
use of spades and other tools, which Man can learn to make and
use, while brutes cannot.

Again, birds and bees have an instinct for building such
nests and cells as 'answer their purpose as well as the most
commodious houses and beds made by men ; but Man has no
instinct that teaches him how to construct these.

Brutes, again, know by instinct their proper food, and
avoid what is unwholesome ; but Man has no instinct for dis-
tinguishing from wholesome fruits the berry of the deadly-
nightshade, with which children have often been poisoned, as
it has no ill smell, and tastes sweet. And, again, almost all
quadrupeds swim by nature, because their swimming is the
same motion by which they walk on land ; but a man falling
into deep water is drowned, unless he has learnt to swim, by
an action quite different from that of his walking.

It is very doubtful, therefore (to say the least), whether
men left wholly untaught would be able to subsist at all, even
in the condition of the very lowest savages. But at any rate
it is plain they could never have risen above that state. If it
be supposed — and this is one of the many bold conjectures that
have been thrown out — that Man was formerly endowed with
many instincts such as those of the brute creation, which
instincts were afterwards obliterated and lost through civilisa-
tion, then the human race might have subsisted in the savage
state ; but we should all have been savages to this day. How
comes it, then, that all mankind are not at this day as wild as
the Pupuans and Hottentot-Bushmen ? According to the pre-
sent course of things, the first introducer of civilisation among
savages, is, and must be, Man in a more improved state ; in
the beginning, therefore, of the human race, this, since there

lect. ii.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 41

was no man to effect it, must have been the work of another
Being. There must have been, in short, something of a
revelation made, to the first, or to some subsequent
generation, of our species. And this miracle (for such it
clearly is, being out of the present course of nature) is attested
independently of Scripture, and consequently in confirmation of
the Scripture-accounts, by the fact that civilised Man exists at
the present day. Each one of us Europeans, whether Christian,
Deist, or Atheist, is actually a portion of a standing monument
of a former communication to mankind from some superhuman
Beino;. That Man could not have made himself, is often
appealed to as a proof of the agency of a divine Creator ; and
that mankind could not, in the first instance, have civilised
themselves, is a proof of the same kind, and of precisely equal
strength, of the agency of a divine Instructor.

It will have occurred to you, no doubt, that the conclusions
we have arrived at, agree precisely with what is recorded in
the oldest book extant. The Book of Genesis represents man-
kind as originally existing in a condition which, though far
from being highly civilised, was very far removed from that
of savages. It describes Man as not having been, like the
brutes, left to provide for himself by his innate bodily and
mental faculties, but as having received at first some immediate
divine communications and instructions. And so early, accord-
ing to this record, was the division of labour, that, of the first
two men who were born of woman, one is described as a tiller
of the ground, and the other as a keeper of cattle. But I have
been careful, as you must have observed, to avoid appealing,
in the outset, to the Bible as an authority, because I have
thought it important to show, independently of that authority,
and from a monument actually before our eyes, — the existence
of civilised Man — that there is no escaping such conclusions as
agree with the Bible narrative. There are at the present day,
philosophers, so-called, some of whom make boastful pre-
tensions to science, and undertake to trace the Vestiges of
Creation ; and some who assume that no miracle can ever have

42 ON THE ORIGIN OP CIVILISATION. [Mcx. n.

taken place, and that the idea of what they call a " book-
revelation " is an absurdity ; and these you cannot meet by an
appeal to our Scriptures. But if you call upon them to show
how the existing state of things can have come about without
a miracle and without a revelation, you will find them (as I
can assert from experience) greatly at a loss.

It is alleged by one of these philosophers, that " some
writers have represented the earliest generations of mankind
as in a high state of civilisation ;" and he adds that, " this
doctrine has been maintained from a desire to confirm Scrip-
ture-history." He does not, however, cite, or refer to any
such writers ; and there is reason to think that none such
ever existed, and that the whole is a complete mis-statement,
either from error of memory, or from some other cause ; for,
this at least is certain, that no one could possibly have been
led, by a desire of confirming Scripture-history, to attribute high
civilisation to the first generations of men ; since this would go
to contradict Scripture-history. The author in question, if he
is at all acquainted with Scripture- history, must know, that,
according to that, mankind were originally in so very humble
a degree of civilisation, that even the use of metals appears to
have been introduced only in the seventh generation.

But though the earliest generations of mankind were, as
has been said, in a condition far short of what can be called
<fhigh civilisation," and had received only very limited, and
what may be called elementary instruction, enough merely to
enable them to make further advances afterwards, by the
exercise of their natural powers — some such instruction (we
have seen) they must have received, because without it, either
the whole race would have perished — which is far the most
probable, — or at best, the world would have been peopled at
this day with none but the wildest savages. For, all experience
proves that men left in the lowest, or even anything approach-
ing to the lowest, degree of barbarism in which they can
possibly subsist at all, never did and never can raise them-
selves, unaided, into a higher condition. But when men have

lect. u.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 43

once reached a certain stage in the advance towards civilisation,
it is then possible for thern (under favourable circumstances,
and if wars or other calamities do not occur to keep them
back) to advance further and further in the same direction.
Human society, in short, may be compared to some combustible
substances which will never take fire spontaneously, but when
once set on fire, will burn with continually increasing strength.
A community of men requires, as it were, to be kindled, and
requires no more.

In this, as in many other matters, it is the first step that is
the difficulty. Though it maybe in itself but a small step, and
one which wrould be easy if it were the second and not the first,
its being the first makes it both the most important and the most
difficult.

Although I wish to rest my conclusions, not on the
authority of other writers, but on well-established facts and
conclusive arguments, I think it will not be out of place to
advert to the opinions of some authors of high repute, whose
viewTs on the subject I had no knowledge of when mine were
first formed.

" The important question," says the celebrated Humboldt,
" has not yet been resolved, whether that savage state, which
even in America is found in various gradations, is to be looked
upon as the dawTning of a society about to rise, or whether it is
not rather the fading remains of one sinking amidst storms,
overthrown and shattered by overwhelming catastrophes. To
me the latter seems to be nearer the truth than the former."

The famous historian Niebhur also is recorded (not in any
publication of his own, but in published reminiscences of his
conversation with a friend) to have strongly expressed his full
conviction that all savages are the degenerated remnants of
more civilised races, which had been overpowered by enemies,
and driven to take refuge in woods (whence the name " silvag-
gio," savage), and there to wander, seeking a precarious sub-
sistence, till they had forgotten most of the arts of settled life,
and sunk into a wild state.

44 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lect. n.

It is remarkable, however, that neither of these eminent
men seem to have thought of the inference, though they were
within one step of it, that the first beginnings of civilisation
must have come from a superhuman instructor.

Not so, however, President Smith, of the College of New
Jersey, United States. In an Essay on the diversity of the
Human Species, after saying that the savage state cannot have
been that of the earliest generations, and that such a supposi-
tion is contrary to sound reason and to all history, he expresses
his conviction not only that savage tribes have degenerated
from more civilised, but that life, even in the savage state, could
not have been preserved, if the first generation had been wholly
untaught. " Hardly is it possible," says he, " that Man placed
on the surface of the world, in the midst of its forests and
marshes, capable of reason indeed, but without having formed
principles to direct its exercise, should have been able to pre-
serve his existence, unless he had received from his Creator,
along with his being, some instructions concerning the employ-
ment of his faculties, for procuring his subsistence and invent-
ing the most necessary arts of life. . . . Nature has
furnished the inferior animals with many and powerful instincts
to direct them in the choice of their food, &c. But Man must
have been the most forlorn of all creatures ; cast out,

as an orphan of nature, naked and helpless, he must have
perished before he could have learned to supply his most im-
mediate and urgent wants."

The views of President Smith coincide, you will perceive,
very closely with those put forth by me ; though I never heard
of his work till long after.

But these views are, as you may suppose, very unacceptable
to certain classes of writers. And they have accordingly made
vehement but fruitless efforts to evade the force of the argu-
ments adduced. They contend against what they call the theory
maintained, and set themselves to meet the arguments which
prove it unlikely that savages should civilise themselves; but
they can not get over the fact, that savages never have done

lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 45

so. Now, that they never can, is a theory ; and something may
always be said — "well or ill — against any theory, whether sound
or unsound ; but facts are stubborn things : and that no authen-
ticated instance can be produced of savages that ever did emerge,
unaided, from that state, is no theory ; but a statement, hitherto
never disproved, of a matter of fact.

It has been urged, among other things, that no art can be
pointed out which Man may not by his "natural powers have in-
vented. Now, no one, as far as I know, ever maintained that
there is any such art. I myself believe there is none that Man
may not have invented, supposing him to have a certain degree
of mental cultivation to start from. But as for any art — much
less all the arts — being invented by savages, none of whom can
be proved to have ever invented anything, that is quite a dif-
ferent question. The fallacy here employed, which is called in
logical language the " Fallacy of Composition," consists in
taking a term first in the divided sense, and then in the col-
lective sense. This art, and that, and the other, &c. — each
taken separately — is not beyond the power of Man to invent :
all the arts are this, that, and the other, &c. taken collectively :
therefore, all may have been originally invented by unaided Man.
In like manner, there is no one angle and no one side of a
triangle that may not be discovered if we have certain data to
start from. Given, two sides and the contained angle, we can
ascertain the remaining side and the other angles. Or again,
if we know one side and two angles, we can discover the rest.
But it would be a new sort of trigonometry that could discover
all the three angles and three sides without any data at all.

One other of the arguments — so called — in disproof of the
possibility of Man's having ever received any communications
from a Superior Being, I will notice, merely to show what des-
perate straits our opponents are reduced to. A writer in the
Westminster Review assumes, on very insufficient grounds,
from a passage in the book of Chronicles, that the Jews in
Solomon's time supposed the diameter of a circle to be exactly
one-third of the circumference, instead of being, as it is, rather

46 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [LEct. 11.

less than seven twenty-firsts, though more than seven twenty-
seconds. I say on " insufficient grounds " does he infer this
ignorance, because it might just as well be inferred that every
one who speaks of the sun's setting, supposes that the sun
actually moves round the earth ; and that when we speak of a
road laid down in a straight line from one town to another, we
must be ignorant that the earth is a sphere, and that conse-
quently there cannot be a perfectly straight line on its surface.
But let this pass. The inference drawn is, that, since the Jews
had so imperfect a knowledge of mathematics, therefore, mankind
could never have received from above, any instruction whatever,
even in the simplest arts of life ; and that, consequently, all
civilised nations must have risen to that condition unaided, from
the state of the lowest savages ; though all history, and all our
experience of what takes place at the present day, attests the
contrary ! Now when a writer, evidently not destitute of in-
telligence, is driven to argue in this manner, you may judge
how hard pressed he must feel himself.

I was conversing once on the present subject with an intelli-
gent person, a great student of phrenology, who was inclined
to attribute the stationary condition of savages to their defective
cerebral development, and to conjecture that a number of people
with well-formed brain, might, without any instruction, acquire
the arts of life, and civilise themselves.

Now there is, indeed, no doubt that the very lowest savage
tribes — such as the Pupuans and Fuegians — have a very de-
fective formation of head ; but this I was disposed to regard as
the effect, not the cause, of their having lived in a wild state for
a vast many generations. For, the cerebral organs, — as my
friend himself fully admitted, — are, like other parts of the body,
developed and strengthened by being exercised, and impaired
and shrunk by inactivity. But some tribes, I remarked to him,
who are considerably above the very rudest of all (as for in-
stance the New Zealanders), have a conformation of head little
if at all inferior to the European ; and yet the New Zealanders,
though they accordingly have proved incomparably more docile,

lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 47

and capable of advancement, than the more degraded races,
were, nevertheless (as we have seen), incapable, when left to
themselves, of advancing a single step. And this instance he
was compelled to admit as decisive.

Among the many random guesses that have been thrown out
on this subject, one that I have heard is, that perhaps there may
have been two races, — two distinct Varieties, or rather two
widely different Species, of Man ; the one capable of self-civili-
sation, the other, not, though capable of being taught. This is
a sufficiently bold conjecture, being not supported by any par-
ticle of evidence; .and yet, after all, it answers no purpose.
For, this wonderful endowment, the self-civilising power, if ever
it were bestowed on any portion of mankind, seems to have been
bestowed in vain, and never to have been called into play ;
since, as far as we can learn, no savage tribe does appear, in
point of fact, to have ever civilised themselves.

Of late years, however, an attempt has been made to revive
Lamarck's theory of development. He was a French naturalist
who maintained the spontaneous transition of one Species into
another of a higher character ; the lowest animalcules having, it
seems, in many generations ripened into fish, thence into
reptiles, beasts, and men. And it is truly wonderful what a
degree of popularity has been attained by this theory, consider-
ing that it is supported altogether by groundless conjectures,
mis-statements of facts, and inconclusive reasoning. But its
advocates found it necessary to assail somehow or other the
position I have been maintaining, which is fatal to their whole
scheme. The view we have taken of the condition of savages
" breaks the water-pitcher " (as the Greek proverb expresses it)
" at the very threshold." Supposing the animalcule safely con-
ducted, by a series of bold conjectures, through the several
transmutations, till from an ape it became a man, there is, as
we have seen, a failure at the last stage of all ; — an insurmount-
able difficulty in the final step from the savage to the civilised
man.

It became necessary, therefore, to accept the challenge pro-

48 OX THE ORIGIN OP CIVILISATION. [lect. n.

posed, and to find a race of savages who had, unassisted, civilised
themselves ; and the case produced was that of a tribe of North
Americans called the Mandans. These are described in a work
by Mr. Catlin, who visited them, as living in a walled town,
instead of the open defenceless hamlets of the other tribes, and
as exercising some arts unknown to their more barbarian neigh-
bours. These latter, not long ago, fell upon them when greatly
thinned by the ravages of the small-pox, and totally extirpated
the small remnant of the tribe.

Now, when this case was brought forward, one naturally
expected that some proof would be attempted — (1), that these
Mandans had been in as savage a condition as the neighbouring
tribes ; and (2), that they had, unaided, raised themselves from
it. But all this, which is the only point at issue, instead of
being proved, is coolly taken for granted. Not the least attempt
is made to prove that the Mandans are originally of the same
race with their neighbouring tribes. It is simply taken for
granted ; though Mr. Catlin himself, who was intimately
acquainted with both, gives strong reasons for the contrary
opinion. No proof, again, is offered that they ever were in as
rude a condition as those other tribes; it is coolly assumed.
No proof is offered that their ancestors never received any in-
struction, at a remote period, from European or other strangers ;
it is merely taken for granted. And this procedure is boast-
fully put forward as " Science !" The science which consists in
simply legging the question, is certainly neither Aristotelian
nor Baconian Science.

But in an article in the Edinburgh Meview, on Mr.
Catlin's book, we are told that the more advanced condition of
these Mandans is to be attributed to their living in a fortified
town, by which means they enjoyed leisure and security for
cultivating the arts of peace. Now, if they had chanced to
light on a spot fortified naturally, by steep precipices, or the
like, the cause assigned would at least have been something
intelligible. But the wall which fortified the city of these
Mandans was built (which the critic seems to have forgotten)

lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 49

by. themselves. And when we are gravely told that it is a very
easy thing for the wildest savages to civilise themselves and
learn the arts of life, for, that they have only to begin by build-
ing themselves a to ell -fortified totmi, it is impossible to avoid
being reminded of the trick by which little children are deluded,
who are told that they can easily catch a bird if they do but
put salt on its tail.

But reviewers, being for the most part secure from being
themselves reviewed, sometimes put forward such statements
and such arguments as they would unmercifully criticise if
appearing in the work of any other author. Suppose, for in-
stance, some author maintaining that the intellectual culture of
the Europeans is to be traced entirely to their having access to
Libraries arid Museums ; you may imagine with what unsparing
ridicule he would be visited by the reviewers, who would remind
him, that though Libraries and Museums do certainly con-
tribute greatly to a nation's enlightenment, yet, as they do not
fall from the sky, but are the work of the very people them,
selves, such a people must have something of intellectual culture
to begin with, and cannot owe every thing to what they have
themselves produced. Or again, suppose a people of remarkably
cleanly habits to be living in the midst of tribes that were
abominably filthy, what would be thought of a person who
should say, " their superior cleanliness may be accounted for by
their use of soap?" Soap is, no doubt, a great purifier ; but if
they had been originally quite careless of cleanliness, how came
they to think of making and using soap ?

These Mandans, however, says the reviewer, were driven by
" necessity" to fortify themselves, in order to protect themselves
from the neighbouring hostile tribes. But necessity is not
" the mother of invention" except to those who have some
degree of thoughtfulness and intelligence. To the mere savage
she rarely if ever teaches anything. And of this there cannot
be a stronger proof than that which the reviewer had, as it were,
just before his eyes, and yet overlooked. He forgot that those
other tribes, generally at war with each other, and therefore
w. e. E

50 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lect. ii.

pressed by the very same necessity, yet continued to dwell in
open villages, where they are accordingly from time to time
surprised or overpowered by their enemies, and have never
thought of fortifying themselves ; no, not when they had before
their eyes the example of the Man dans, which they had not the
sense to copy !

It appears, then, that all the attempts made to assail our
position have served only to furnish fresh and fresh proofs that
it is perfectly impregnable. That some communication to Man
from a Superior Being — in other words, some kind of Revela-
tion— must at some time or other have taken place, is estab-
lished, independently of all historical documents, in the Bible
or elsewhere, by a standing monument which is before our eyes,
the existence of civilised man at this day.

And the establishing of this is the most complete discom-
fiture of the adversaries of our religion, because it cuts away
the ground from under their feet. For, you will hardly meet
with any one who admits that there has been some distinct
Revelation, properly so called, given to Man, and yet denies
that that revelation is to be found in our Bible. On the con-
trary, all who deny the divine authority of the Bible, almost
always set out with assuming, or attempting to prove, the
abstract impossibility of any revelation whatever or any miracle,
in the ordinary sense of these words ; and then it is that they
proceed to muster their objections against Christianity in par-
ticular. But I trust you have seen that we may advance
and meet them at once in the open field, and overthrow them at
the first step, before they approach our citadel; by proving
that what they set out with denying is what must have taken
place, and that they are, in their own persons, a portion of
the monument of its occurrence. And the establishing of this,
as it takes away the very ground first occupied by the opponents
of our Faith, so it is an important preliminary step for our pro-
ceeding, in the next place, to the particular evidence for that
faith. Once fully convinced that God must at some time or
other have made some direct communication to Man, and that

lect. it.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 51

even those who dislike this conclusion strive in vain to escape
it, we are thus the better prepared for duly estimating the
proofs that the Gospel is in truth a divine message.

It is not, however, solely, or even chiefly, for the sake of
furnishing a refutation of objectors, in case you should ever
chance to meet with any, or even of satisfying doubters, that I
have put these views before you ; though no one can think this
an unimportant matter who remembers that we are solemnly
charged to be " always ready to give to every one that asketh
us a reason for the hope that is in us ;" but beyond this, it
must be both highly useful and highly gratifying to a rightly-
minded Christian to contemplate and dwell upon all the many
marks of truth stamped on a Revelation which he not only
acknowledges, but deeply venerates and heartily loves.

It may, therefore, seem, to some persons, strange that any
kind of apology should be offered for calling attention to an
important evidence of Christianity. But certain it is that
there are not a few Christians who consider that there is the
more virtue in their faith the less rational ground they have
for it, and the less they inquire for any. They acknowledge,
indeed, the necessity, for the conversion of pagans and the
refutation of infidels, of being prepared to offer some proofs
of the truth of our religion. But while they acknowledge this
necessity, they lament it ; because it appears to them that to
offer proof of anything is to admit it to be doubtful ; and to
produce answers to objections, implies listening to objections ;
which is painful to their feelings. They wish, therefore, that
all those who actually are believers in what they have been told,
simply because they have been told it, should be left in that
state of tranquil acquiescence, without having their minds
le unsettled " (that is the phrase employed) by any attempt to
give them reasons for being convinced of that which they are
already convinced of, or at least have carelessly assented to.
And with respect to Ireland in particular, I have known both
Roman Catholics and Protestants allege, that though in
England there may be need to take some precautions against

E 3

52 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [LEct. n.

infidelity, in this country no such thing exists, nor is there any
danger of its appearing. Those who spoke so must have either
been very ignorant of the real state of things, or must have
calculated on their hearers being so. But even supposing such
were the fact, it surely is doing no great honour to our religion,
to prefer that it should be believed exactly on the same grounds
that the Hindu and Chinese Pagans believe in the abominable
absurdities of their mythology, which they embrace without
inquiry and without hesitation, simply as being the religion
of their fathers. It is not thus that men proceed in other
matters. If, for instance, there is some illustrious Statesman
or General whom they greatly admire, they are never weary of
inquiring for, and listening to, fresh and fresh details of his
exploits, of the difficulties he has surmounted, and the enter-
prises in which he has succeeded ; which are all so many proofs
of his superior wisdom and energy ; proofs not needed to satisfy
any doubts in their minds, but which yet they delight to bring
forward and contemplate, on account of the very admiration
they feel. So, also, they delight to mark and dwell on the con-
stantly recurring proofs of the excellent and amiable qualities
of some highly valued friend; to observe the contrast his
character presents to that of vain pretenders ; and how every
attempt of enemies to blemish his reputation serves only to
make his virtues the more conspicuous.

Should it not then be also delightful to a sincere Christian
to mark, in like manner, the numberless proofs which present
themselves, that the religion he professes is not from Man but
from God, — to note the contrast it presents to all false religions
devised by human folly or cunning,— and to observe how all
attempts to shake the evidence of it, tend, sooner or later, to
confirm it ?

But there are some who go a great deal further than those
I have just been alluding to. There are persons professing to
believe in Christianity, and to be anxious for its support, who
deprecate altogether any appeal to evidence for it, as likely
to lead not to conviction, but to doubt or disbelief. A writer

lect. ii. ] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 53

for instance, in a Periodical now dropped, but which had a
great circulation among a certain party, and seems to have
exercised no small influence, maintains distinctly, and with
great vehemence, that our (i belief ought to rest not on argu-
ment, but on faith ;" that is, on itself: and that an ignorant
clown who believes what he is told, simply because he is
told it, (which is precisely the foundation of the belief of the
ancient heathens who worshipped the great goddess Diana, and
of the Hindu idolaters of the present day,) has a " far better
ground for his faith than anything that has ever been produced
by such authors as Grotius, and Paley, and Sumner, and
Chalmers ;" that is, that the reasons which have convinced the
most intelligent minds, are inferior to that which is confessedly
and notoriously good for nothing !

A writer, again, in another Periodical, deprecates and de-
rides all appeal to evidence in support of our faith, and censure3
Baxter (whose life he was reviewing) for having written on the
subject, because the result, he assures us, will be li either our
yielding a credulous and therefore infirm assent, or reposing in
a self-sufficient and far more hazardous incredulity." And he
remarks, that the sacred writers " have none of the timidity of
their modern apologists, but authoritatively denounce unbelief
as guilt, and insist on faith as a virtue of the highest order.',
The faith, according to him, which the Apostles insisted on,
was belief without any grounds for it being set forth. Had it
been so, we should never have heard of Christianity at this
day ; for men could not have been bullied by mere authoritative
denunciations of guilt — coming from a few Jewish fishermen
and peasants, and resting on their bare word — into renouncing
the religion of their ancestors, in defiance of all the persecutions
of all their rulers and neighbours.

Timid, however, and credulous, according to the peculiar
language of this writer, the apostles and their converts certainly
were, since he uses these words to denote exactly the opposite
of what every one else understands by them. A person is
usually called {l credulous," not for believing something for

54 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lecx. ii.

good reasons, but, on the contrary, for believing without evi-
dence, or against evidence. And those are generally considered
as " timorous " who shrink from inquiry, and deprecate as
" hazardous " all appeal to evidence ; not those who boldly
court inquiry and bring forward strong reasons, which they
challenge every one either to admit or to answer, or else to
stand convicted of perversity.

And this is what our Lord and his Apostles did. They do,
indeed, inculcate faith as a virtue, and denounce unbelief as
sin; but on what grounds do they so? Because, says our
Lord, " if I had not done among them the works which
none other man did, they had not had sin;" because the
Apostles appealed to the resurrection of Jesus, of which they
were eye witnesses, and to the " many infallible proofs " — the
" signs of an Apostle," as they called them — consisting of the
miracles wrought by themselves ; and because they made un-
answerable appeals to the ancient prophecies, " proving by the
Scriptures that Jesus is the Christ."

To maintain, in the face of the whole New-Testament-his-
tory, which is in most people's hands, and which many know
almost by heart, that the Apostles demanded faith without offer-
ing any reason for it, is an instance of audacity quite astonish-
ing. And not less wonderful is it that any rational Being
should be found, who can imagine that men's minds can best be
satisfied by proclaiming that inquiry is hazardous. If there
were any college, hospital, workhouse, asylum, or other institu-
tion, whose managers and patrons assured us that it was well
conducted, but that inspection was much to be deprecated, be-
cause it would probably lead to the conviction that the institu-
tion was full of abuses, I need not say what inference would be
drawn.

And when we are told that it shows " timidity'n (of all
things ! ) to court investigation, and to defy disproof, we may be
reminded of an anecdote told of some British troops, who were
acting along with some North American Indians as their allies.
When attacked by a hostile force, the Indians, according to

lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 55

custom, ran off and sheltered themselves behind trees, while the
British stood firm under a heavy fire, and repulsed the enemy.
It was expected that their Indian friends would have admired
their superior valour. But their interpretation of the matter was
— that the British were too much frightened to run away I They
thought them such bad warriors as to have been utterly
paralysed by terror, and to have not had sufficient presence of
mind .to provide for their safety !

More recently, a writer in another Periodical attributes the
infidelity of Gibbon (a life of whom he is reviewing) to his hav-
ing studied the Evidences of Christianity ! And he derides with
the utmost scorn the extreme folly of those who teach young
persons to " give a reason of the hope that is in them," or who
even tell them that it is true, or allow them to know that its
truth has ever been doubted ; which is a sure way, he maintains,
to make them disbelieve it !

Such writers as these must either be themselves marvellously
ignorant, or must trust to their readers being so, not only of
Scripture, but of all history, ancient and modern. For, no one
can read the New Testament (attending at all to the sense of
what he reads) without learning that " some believed the
things that were spoken by Paul, and some believed not ;" and
that this was what took place everywhere, among both Jews
and Gentiles. And the like takes place still, and must be
known ; since people cannot, in these days, be so completely
debarred from all knowledge of history as not to hear of the
French at the Revolution abjuring Christianity, and of multi-
tudes of their priests professing unbelief.

The passages I have referred to are, I am sorry to say, only
a few out of many, and have been noticed merely as specimens.
Many more might have been produced, in the same tone, some
of them from authors of considerable repute.

It is to be wished that such writers, if they really have that
regard for Christianity which they profess, and if they have
written as they have, not from insidious design, but from mere
ignorance and error of judgment, should, in the first place, read

56 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lect. n.

attentively the New Testament, that they may see how utterly
contrary to the fact are all the statements they have made.
And, in the next place, I would wish one of these writers to
consider what he would think of some professed friend coming
forward as his advocate, and saying, " My friend here is a
veracious and worthy man, and there is no foundation for any
of the charges brought against him ; and his integrity is fully
believed in by persons who thoroughly trust him, and who have
never thought of examining his character at all, or inquiring
into his transactions ; but, of all things, do not make any inves-
tigation into his character ; for be assured that the more you
examine and inquire, the less likely you will be to be satisfied
of his integrity."

No one can doubt what would be thought of such a pre-
tended friend. And no reasonable man can fail, on reflection,
to perceive that such professed friends of our religion as those
I have been speaking of, do more to shake men's faith in it than
all the attacks of all the avowed infidels in the world put
together.

And next, I would have them look to the deplorable fruits,
of various kinds, which their system, of deprecating the use of
reason, and thus hiding under a bushel the lamp which Provi-
dence has kindly bestowed on Man, has produced, in its unfor-
tunate victims. Some, not a few, have listened to the idle tales
of crazy enthusiasts, or crafty impostors, who gabbled unmean-
ing sounds, which they profanely called the " gift of tongues ;"
or who pretended to have discovered in a cave a new book of
Scripture, called the "Book of Mormon," and which they as-
sure their deluded followers contains a divine revelation. And
they are believed (why not ?) by those who have not only never
heard of any reason why our Scripture should be received, but
have been taught that it is wrong to seek for any, and that they
ought to believe whatever they are told.

Others, again, have been strongly assured that Traditions
are of equal authority with Scripture; and this they believe
because they are earnestly assured of it ; which is the only

lect. n.l ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 57

ground they ever had, or conceive themselves permitted to have,
for believing anything.

Others again, when falling in with some infidel, find that he
does urge something which at least pretends to be an argument,
and that they have^ nothing to urge on the opposite side; and
having, moreover, been taught that inquiry is fatal to belief in
their religion, they conclude at once that the whole of it is a
fable, which even its advocates seem to acknowledge will not bear
the test of examination.

Finally, then, I would entreat any1 one of those mistaken ad-
vocates I have been speaking of, to imagine himself confronted
at the Day of Judgment with some of those misled people, and
to consider what answer he would make if these should reproach
him with the errors into which they have fallen. Let him con-
ceive them saying, " You have, through false and self-devised
views of expediency — in professed imitation of the sacred
writers, but in real contradiction to their practice, — sent forth
us, your weak brethren — made weaker by yourself — as ' sheep
among wolves,' provided with the ' harmlessness of the dove,'
but not with the ' wisdom of the serpent,' — unfurnished with
the arms which God's gifts of Scripture and of Reason would
have supplied to us, and purposely left naked to the assaults of
various enemies. Our Blood is on your head. You must
be accountable for our fall."

POSTSCRIPT.

Concerning the foregoing arguments, there have appeared
some very strange mis-statements; indicating (on the most
favourable supposition) gross and culpable carelessness. I have
been represented as maintaining, or implying, that all the arts
of life must have come from a divine revelation. And this
doctrine, which is none of mine, has been triumphantly derided.
But any reader of the foregoing pages may see that I have dis-
tinctly said the very reverse, and have given my reasons for it.
Yet I have more than once been called upon to point out any
one art that could not have been devised by human ingenuity ;
though I never said, or thought, that there is any such. I
know of no art but what may have been invented, — and perhaps
has, in some instances, been invented, — by unaided men ; but
men who had received some little training, sufficient to call
forth and exercise, in some degree, their mental powers, and
to raise them above the state of mere brutish, improvident, un-
thinking savages, such as the Papuans of Andaman, or the
Fuegians.

On the unimproved and stationary condition of these last, ■
Mr. Darwin has made a remark which is cited in the foregoing
pages. He has indeed been understood to teach that Man may
possibly be a descendant of the Ape, and originally, of a Reptile
or a Mollusc. But even supposing this possible, there would
still remain an insuperable difficulty — which Mr. Darwin seems
to have perceived — in the last step of all ; the advance of the
unaided savage to civilisation.

It has been hinted, however, that though not even the
smallest approach to this self-civilisation appears to have been
made in all the Ages that have passed since History began,
there is no saying what may not have been done in hundreds o^

POSTSCRIPT. 59

thousands of previous centuries that may have elapsed since
Man first rose out of the molluscous state.

Some persons seem to forget the obvious truth (noticed by
the late Bishop Copleston)1, that Time is of itself no Agent.
Even a very minute effect, produced by some slowly- acting
cause, may, in a very long time, amount to something con-
siderable. But 000 multiplied by a million, can never amount
to a positive quantity.

When we are referred to Time, as producing effects for
which there is no other cause, one is reminded of the story
that is told of a Turk in Algeria, who had been supplied by a
clever French artist with an excellent set of artificial teeth.
Having lost an eye, he applied to the same artist for an artificial
one. The artist made, and fixed in, a glass eye, which looked very
natural. But the Turk complained that he could not see with
it at all. " Oh, you must not," said the artist, " expect that at
once. You must wait patiently till the eye has got accustomed
to the light, and in time, it will see very well."

See Remains of Bishop Copleston.

LECTURE III.

ON INSTINCT1.

There is no particular branch of Natural History upon
which I should be as "well qualified to give instruction, or with
which I am as well acquainted, as many who are here present.
If I were to attempt to instruct either those who had paid much
attention to such a study, or again those who were mere begin-
ners, in the one case, I should be undertaking to teach those who
were greater proficients than myself; in the other, I should
probably be a less skilful instructor than they might find in
persons more conversant with each particular branch of the
subject. But having been called upon to deliver a lecture upon
some point connected with Natural History, I consider it would
be more suitable in respect to my slender attainments in each
particular branch of Natural History, and to the circumstances
of the Society, to select a point in which Natural History comes
in contact with the Philosophy of the Human Mind, and those
metaphysical pursuits to which I have mostly devoted myself.

Besides the intrinsic advantage of directing the attention of
my audience to this particular branch of study, another benefit
resulting from such a course of inquiry is, to relieve the study
of Natural History from some part of the discredit under
which, with many, it has laboured, in being considered as a
frivolous occupation of the time and faculties of Man; leading
him to reflect upon, examine, search into, and ascertain the
facts connected with this science, and all for no purpose beyond
the mere innocent amusement arising from the study — a study
thus represented as conducive in no way to the development of

« This Lecture is printed from a newspaper report, corrected. The subject has
been more fully treated of in the LeseonB on Mind.

lect. in.] . ON INSTINCT. 61

the higher faculties of the mind, or to the attainment of any-
other benefit to mankind.

The charge does fairly lie against Natural History, thus,
and only thus, studied. And the same might be said with
regard even to the cultivation of literature. If a man went no
farther in literary pursuits than to be a good judge of different
editions of books, or the different modes of binding or printing
those books, he might make a very useful librarian ; but it could
not be said that he had turned literary knowledge to any of the
more dignified purposes for which it might be employed. There,
no doubt, are such persons ; but it would not therefore be true
to regard Literature altogether as merely a Bibliomania — a
mere curiosity about rare books, because some have no other
than such literature. And equally unfair would it be to
pronounce a similar contemptuous censure on Naturalists,
because there are some among them who correspond to those
librarian-students just alluded to — men who are content to
arrange and label, as it were, the volumes of the great Book of
Nature, and then forget to peruse them, or peruse them without
intelligence, and without profit.

The point which I have chosen as forming a contact between
Zoology and the branch of Philosophy which has relation to the
human mind, is the subject of INSTINCT. If I or my
audience were to estimate the propriety of my taking up the
examination of such a subject, from the degree of information
from existing books which I could bring to bear upon it, my
claim to their attention would be very low indeed. I have
found so little of a systematic account of the matter, in all the
authors I have ever read, that it struck me it might be desirable
to call the attention of the audience to the subject. I shall be
occupied rather in proposing questions for consideration, than
in answering questions myself. In many subjects it might be
objectionable to take this course ; but in this case something
may be gained by pointing out to you what to ask, and to
what you should direct your inquiries ; though I could not un-
dertake to answer the questions wbich I may propose, satis-

62 ON INSTINCT. [lect. m.

factorily to myself. At any rate, if I cannot give you satisfac-
tion, I hope I can give you ^satisfaction — that is, I hope I
may be able to render you dissatisfied with the extent of your
knowledge, by pointing out how much there is to be known, to
be studied, and to be inquired into.

A Treatise upon the subject of Animal Instincts is a
desideratum. I have seen in many books interesting descrip-
tions of different instincts, curiously illustrated by well authen-
ticated facts. I have seen minute details of important and
interesting characteristics of Instinct. But I never saw any-
thing like a philosophic or systematic view of the subject ; nor
have I ever heard a distinct and satisfactory answer to the
question, "What do you mean by Instinct?" It seems, there-
fore, that however far advanced we may be in a Dictionary on the
subject of Instinct, a Grammar is a thing very much wanted.
It is in general rather implied and supposed, than distinctly
laid down, that a Being is acting instinctively when impelled
blindly towards some end which the agent does not aim at or
perceive ; and on the other hand, that it is acting rationally,
when acting with a view to, and for the sake of, some end
which it does perceive. But in the ordinary language even of
Naturalists, and even when they are describing and recounting
instances of remarkable Instincts, we often meet with much
that is inconsistent with this view. And when any one says,
as many are accustomed to do, that Brutes are actuated by
Instinct, and Man by Reason, this language has the appear-
ance, at least, of being much at variance with such a view.

When I speak of Animal-instinct, it should be remembered
that I include Man. I presume that you have all learned that
Man is an Animal; although it is a fact frequently forgotten
by many. Man possesses Instinct, though in a lower degree
than most other animals ; his inferiority in these being com-
pensated by his superiority in other respects. And again : as
Man possesses Instinct in a lower degree than the brutes, so, in
a lower degree than Man, brutes — at least the higher brutes —
possess Beason. As some things felt and done by Man are

lect. ra.] ON INSTINCT. 63

allowed to be instinctive — as hunger and thirst for instance, are
evidently instincts — so many things done by brutes, at least by
the higher description of brutes, would be, if done by Man,
regarded as resulting from the exercise of Reason — I mean
where the actions of the brute spring, to all appearance, from
the same impulse as the rational acts of Man.

In many instances we know this is not the case. A man
builds a house from Reason — a bird builds a nest from Instinct;
and no one would say that the bird, in this, acted from Reason.
But in other instances, Man not only does the same things as
the brutes, but does them from the same kind of impulse,
which should be called instinctive, whether in man or brute.
And again, several things are done by brutes, which are
evidently not instinctive, but, to all appearance, no less rational
than human acts : being not only the same actions, but done
from the same impulse. I shall not at present inquire what is
called Reason, any more than what is denominated Instinct. I
would only say that several things which are allowed by every
one to be acts of Reason, when done by a man, are done by
brutes manifestly under a similar impulse — I mean such things
as brutes learn to do, either by their own unaided experience,
or, as taught by Man. Docility is evidently characteristic of
Reason. To talk of an elephant, a horse, or a dog doing by
Instinct such things as it has been taught, would be as absurd
as to talk of a child's learning to read and write by Instinct.

But, moreover, Brutes are, in many instances, capable of
learning even what they have not been taught by Man. They
have been found able to combine, more or less, the means of
accomplishing a certain end, from having learned by experience
that such and such means, so applied, would conduce to it.
The higher animals of course show more of Reason, than the
lower. There are many instances of its existence in domestic
animals.

The Dog is regarded as the animal most completely Man's
companion ; and I will mention one, out of many specimens of
the kind of Reason to which I refer, as exhibited in a dog.

64 ON INSTINCT.

[lect. in.

The incident is upon record, and there seems no ground for
doubting it, although it did not come under my own personal
observation. This dog being left on the bank of a river by
his master, who had gone up the river in a boat, attempted to
join him. He plunged into the water, but not making allowance
for the strength of the stream, which carried him considerably
below the boat, he could not beat up against it. He landed
and made allowance for the current of the river, by leaping in
at a place higher up. The combined action of the stream, and
his swimming, carried him in an oblique direction, and he thus
reached the boat. Having made the trial, and failed, he appa-
rently judged from the failure of the first attempt, that his
course was to go up the stream, make allowance for its strength,
and thus gain the boat. I do not vouch for the accuracy of
this anecdote ; but I see no grounds for disbelieving it, as it is
of a piece with many other recorded instances.

There is another instance of this nature, which did come
under my own observation, and is more worthy of being re-
corded, because the actor was a Cat — a species of animal which
is considered generally very inferior in sagacity to a dog. This
cat lived many years in my mother's family, and its feats of
sagacity were witnessed by her, my sisters, and myself. It
was known, not merely once or twice, but habitually, to ring
the parlour bell whenever it wished the door to be opened.
Some alarm was excited on the first occasion that it turned
bell-ringer. The family had retired to rest, and in the middle
of the night the parlour bell was rung violently : the sleepers
were startled from their repose, and proceeded downstairs, with
pokers and tongs, to interrupt, as they thought, the predatory
movement of some burglar ; but they were agreeably surprised
to discover that the bell had been rung by pussy; who fre-
quently repeated the act whenever she wanted to get out of
the parlour.

Here are two clear cases of acts done by a cat and dog,
which, if done by a man, would be called reason. Every one
would admit that the actions were rational — not, to be sure,

EECT. m.] ON INSTINCT. 65

proceeding from a very high exertion of intellect ; but the dog,
at least, rationally jumped into the stream at a distance higher
up from the boat, into which he wished to get, because he
found that the stream would thus carry him to it, instead of
from it ; and the cat pulled the parlour bell, because she had
observed that when it was rung by the family, the servant
opened the door. It is quite clear that if such acts were done
by Man, they would be regarded as an exercise of Reason; and
I do not know why, when performed by brutes, evidently by
a similar mental process, as far as can be judged, they should
not bear the same name. To speak of a cat's having an instinct
to pull a bell when desirous of going out at the door, or of an
elephant's lifting up a cannon, or beating down a wall, at his
driver's command, by instinct, would be to use words at random.
On the other hand, hunger and thirst are as instinctive in
Man as in brutes. An invalid, indeed, when taking food
without appetite, does not act upon Instinct ; he acts upon
Reason, which tells him that unless he eat, his strength
would not support the disease under which he labours; but
the man who eats when he is hungry, and drinks when he is
thirsty, acts as truly from instinct as the new-born babe when
it sucks.

It appears, then, that we can neither deny Reason, univer-
sally and altogether, to brutes, nor Instinct, to Man; but that
each possesses a share of both, though in very different propor-
tions. Then the question naturally arises — which is one I pro-
pose, but do not presume positively to decide — " What is the
difference between Man and the higher brutes ? " We have
already decided, in reference to one point, what the difference
does not consist in. It is not that brutes are wholly destitute
of everything that, in Man, we call Reason. Instances to the
contrary, similar to what have been above mentioned, might be
produced to a great extent. But this would be superfluous •
because, as has been said, the docility of many brutes is familiar
to all : and if any one could seriously speak of teaching any-
w. e. F

66 ON INSTINCT. [lect. in.

thing to a Being wholly devoid of reason, he would evidently be
using the word in some sense quite different from that in which
it is ordinarily employed.

And yet the difference between Man and brute, in respect of
intelligence, appears plainly to be not a difference in mere de-
gree, but in kind. An intelligent brute is not like a stupid man.
The intelligence and sagacity shown by the elephant, monkey,
and dog, are something very different from the lowest and most
stupid of human Beings. It is a difference in kind, not merely
in degree.

It strikes me that in all the most striking instances in which
brutes display reason, all the intellectual operation seems to con-
sist in the combination of means to an end. The dog who swam
from a higher part of the river to reach the boat ; the cat who
rang the bell to call the servant ; the elephant of whom we have
read, that was instructed by his keeper, off hand, to raise himself
from a tank into which he had fallen, by means of faggots,
thrown into him by the keeper, on which the elephant raised
himself from the pit, and from which all the windlasses and
cranes in the Indian empire could not have extricated him ; the
monkey in the Zoological Gardens, who used to possess himself
of a nut placed beyond the reach of his paw, by doubling a straw,
and casting this round it, by which means he was enabled to draw
it towards him : these, and many other similar instances of sa-
gacity, appear to consist in the adaptation of means to an
end.

But the great difference between Man and the higher brutes
appears to me to consist in the power of using SIGNS — arbi-
trary signs — and employing language as an instrument of thought.
We are accustomed to speak of language as useful to Man, to
communicate his thoughts. I consider this as only one of the
uses of language. That use of language which, though com-
monly overlooked, is the most characteristic of Man, is as an
instrument of thought. Man is not the only animal that can
make use of language to express what is passing within his mind,
and that can understand, more or less, what is so expressed by

lect. ni.] ON INSTINCT. 67

another. Some brutes can be taught to utter, and many others,
to understand, more or less imperfectly, sounds expressive of
certain emotions. Every one knows that the dog understands
the general drift of expressions used ; and parrots can be taught
not only to pronounce words, but to pronounce them with some
consciousness of the general meaning of what they utter. We
commonly speak, indeed, of " saying so-and-so by rote as a
parrot ;" but it is far from true that they are quite uncon-
scious of the meaning of the sounds. Parrots do not utter
words at random; for they call for food; when displeased, scold;
and use expressions in reference to particular persons which
they have heard applied to them. They evidently have some
notion of the general drift of many expressions which they use.
Almost every animal which is capable of being tamed, can, in
in some degree, use language as an indication of what passes
within. But no animal has the use of language as an " instru-
ment of thought." Man makes use of general signs in the
application of his power of Abstraction, by which he is enabled
to reason ; and the use of arbitrary general signs, — what logicians
call " common terms" — with a facility of thus using Abstraction
at pleasure, is a characteristic of Man.

By the expression " making use of abstraction," I do not
mean our merely recognizing the general character of some in-
dividual, not seen before, of a class we are acquainted with ; as
when, for instance, any one sees for the first time some par-
ticular man or horse, and knows that the one is a man, and the
other a horse. For this is evidently done by brutes. A bird,
for instance, which has been used to fly from men, and not from
oxen, will fly from an individual man whom it has never seen
before, and will have no fear of an ox. But this is not havinc
what I call the power of using abstraction at pleasure. It is
merely that similar qualities affect animals in a similar way.
With certain description of forms are associated ideas of fear or
gratification. Thus a young calf readily comes up to a woman
whom it sees for the first time, because a woman has been used
to feed it with milk; while the young of wild animals fly from

f 3

68 ON INSTINCT. [lect. m.

any human Being. But I speak of Man being able so to use
the power of abstraction as to employ signs to denote any or
every individual of a certain class.

Perhaps you may think that I am giving a remarkable in-
stance of instinctive love of an author for the offspring of his
own mind, by quoting from a work written by myself. But it
is necessary to refer to the passages which treat of language
as an instrument of thought in the Elements of Logic: — " In
inward solitary reasoning, many, and perhaps most persons, but
especially those not much accustomed to read or speak concern-
ing the subjects that occupy their thoughts, make use, partly, of
Signs that are not arbitrary and conventional, but which consist
of mmt-dl- conceptions of individual objects ; taken, each, as a re-
presentative of a Class. E.g. a person practically conversant
with mechanical operations, but not with discussions of them in
words, may form a conception of — in colloquial phrase, i figure
to himself — a certain field or room, with whose shape he is
familiar, and may employ this, in his inward trains of
thought, as a Sign, to represent, for instance, ' parallelo-
gram ' or ' trapezium,' &c. ; or he may ' figure to himself a
man raising a weight by means of a pole, and may use this con-
ception as a general Sign, in place of the term 'lever;' and the
terms themselves he may be unacquainted with ; in which case
he will be at a loss to impart distinctly to others his own reason-
ings ; and in the attempt, will often express himself (as one may
frequently observe in practical men unused to reading and
speaking) not only indistinctly, but even erroneously. Hence,
partly, may have arisen the belief in those supposed l abstract
ideas ' which will be hereafter alluded to, and in the possibility
of reasoning without the use of any Signs at all.

" Supposing there really exist in the mind — or in some minds
— certain ' abstract ideas,' by means of which a train of reason-
ing may be carried on independently of Common-terms [or Signs
of any kind] — for this is the real point at issue — and that a
system of Logic may be- devised, having reference to such
reasoning — supposing this — still, as I profess not to know any-

lect. ni.] ON INSTINCT. 69

thing of these ' abstract ideas,' or of any i Universals ' except
Signs, or to be conscious of any such reasoning process, I at
least must confine myself to the attempt to teach the only Logic
I do pretend to understand. Many, again, who speak slight-
ingly of Logic altogether, on the ground of its being ' conversant
only about ivords,'' entertain fundamentally the same views as
the above ; that is, they take for granted that Reasoning may
be carried on altogether independently of Language ; which they
regard (as was above remarked) merely as a means of communi-
cating it to others. And a Science or Art which they suppose
to be confined to this office, they accordingly rank very low.

" Such a view I believe to be very prevalent. The majority
of men would probably say, if asked, that the use of Lan-
guage is peculiar to Man ; and that its office is to express to
one another our thoughts and feelings. But neither of these is
strictly true. Brutes do possess in some degree the power of
being taught to understand what is said to them, and some of
them even to utter sounds expressive of what is passing within
them. But they all seem to be incapable of another very im-
portant use of Language, which does characterize Man — viz.,
the employment of ' Common-terms' (' general- terms') formed
by Abstraction, as instruments of thought ; by which alone a
train of Reasoning may be carried on.

" And accordingly, a Deaf-mute, before he has been taught a
Language — either the Finger-language or Reading — cannot
carry on a train of Reasoning, any more than a Brute. He
differs indeed from a Brute in possessing the mental capability
of employing Language ; but he can no more make use of that
capability, till he is in possession of some System of arbitrary
general-signs, than a person born blind from Cataract can
make use of his capacity of Seeing, till the Cataract is
removed.

" Hence it will be found by any one who will question a Deaf-
mute who has been taught Language after having grown up,
that no such thing as a train of Reasoning had ever passed
through his mind before he was taught.

70 ON INSTINCT. [lecx. m.

" If indeed we did reason by means of those ' Abstract
ideas ' which some persons talk of, and if the Language we use
served merely to communicate with other men, then a person
would be able to reason who had no knowledge of any arbitrary
Signs. But there are no grounds for believing that this is
possible ; nor consequently, that ' Abstract-ideas ' (in that sense
of the word) have any existence at all.

" There have been some very interesting accounts published,
by travellers in America, and by persons residing there, of a
girl named Laura Bridgeman, who has been, from birth, not
only Deaf and Dumb, but also Blind. She has, however, been
taught the finger-language, and even to read what is printed in
raised characters, and also to write.

" The remarkable circumstance in reference to the present
subject, is, that when she is alone, her fingers are generally ob-
served to be moving, though the signs are so slight and imperfect
that others cannot make out what she is thinking of. But if
they inquire of her, she will tell them.

" It seems that, having once learnt the use of Signs, she
finds the necessity of them as an Instrument of thought,
when thinking of anything beyond mere individual objects of
sense.

" And doubtless every one else does the same ; though in
our case, no one can (as in the case of Laura Bridgeman) see
the operation : nor, in general, can it be heard ; though some
few persons have a habit of occasionally audibly talking to
themselves ; or as it is called, ' thinking aloud.' But the Signs
we commonly use in silent reflection are merely mental concep-
tions, usually of uttered words : and these doubtless are such as
could be hardly at all understood by another, even if uttered
audibly. For we usually think in a kind of short-hand (if one
may use the expression), like the notes one sometimes takes
down on paper to help the memory, which consist of a word or
two — or even a letter — to suggest a whole sentence ; so that
such notes would be unintelligible to any one else.

" It has been observed also that this girl, when asleep, and

lect. ra.] ON INSTINCT. 71

doubtless dreaming, has her fingers frequently in motion : beinc
in fact talking. in her sleep.

" Universally, it is to be steadily kept in mind, that no
' common-terms ' have, as the names of Individuals [' singular
terms '] have, any real thing existing in nature corresponding to
each of them, but that each of them is merely a Sign denoting
a certain inadequate notion which our minds have formed of an
Individual, and which, consequently, not including the notion of
' individuality ' [numerical-unity'], nor anything wherein that
individual differs from certain others, is applicable equally well
to all, or any of them. Thus ' man ' denotes no real thing (as
the sect of the Realists maintained) distinct from each indi-
vidual, but merely any man, viewed inadequately, i.e., so as to
omit, and abstract from, all that is peculiar to each individual ;
by which means the term becomes applicable alike to any
one of several individuals, or [in the plural] to several
together.

" The unity [singleness or sameness] of what is denoted by a
common- term, does not, as in the case of a singular-term, consist
in the object itself being (in the primary sense) one and the
same, but in the oneness of the Sign itself: which is like a
Stamp (for marking bales of goods or cattle), that impresses on
each a similar mark ; called thence, in the secondary sense, one
and the same mark. And just such a stamp, to the mind, is a
Common-term ; which being itself one, conveys to each of an
indefinite number of minds an impression precisely similar, and
thence called, in the transferred sense, one and the same Idea.

" And we arbitrarily fix on the circumstance which we in
each instance chuse to abstract and consider separately, dis.
regaining all the rest ; so that the same individual may thus
be referred to any of several different Species, and the same
Species, to several Genera, as suits our purpose. Thus it
suits the Farmer's purpose to class his cattle with his ploughs,
carts, and other possessions, under the name of 'stock:'' the
Naturalist, suitably to his purpose, classes them as ' quadru-
peds,' which term would include wolves, deer, &c, which, to the

72 ON INSTINCT. [lect. in.

farmer, would be a most improper classification : the Commis-
sary, again, would class them with corn, cheese, fish, &c, as
' provision ;' that which is most essential in one view, being sub-
ordinate in another.

" Nothing so much conduces to the error of Realism as the
transferred and secondary use of the words • same,' ' one and
the same,' 'identical,' &c, when it is not clearly perceived and
carefully borne in mind, that they are employed in a secondary
sense, and that, more frequently even than in the primary.

" Suppose e.g. a thousand persons are thinking of the Sun :
it is evident it is one and the same individual object on* which
all these minds are employed. So far all is clear. But
suppose all these persons are thinking of a Triangle — not
any individual triangle, but Triangle in general — and con-
sidering, perhaps, the equality of its angles to two right
angles : it would seem as if, in this case also, their minds were
all employed on ' one and the same ' object : and this object of
their thoughts, it may be said, cannot be the mere word Tri-
angle, but that which is meant by it : nor again, can it be every-
thing that the word will apply to : for they are not thinking of
triangles, but of one thing. Those who do not maintain that
this " one thing ' has an existence independent of the human
mind, are in general content to tell us, by way of explanation,
that the object of their thoughts is the abstract ' idea ' of a
triangle; an explanation which satisfies, or at least silences
many ; though it may be doubted whether they very clearly
understand what sort of thing an ' idea ' is ; which may thus
exist in a thousand different minds at once, and yet be ' one
and the same.'

" The fact is, that ' unity' and ■ sameness' are in such cases
employed, not in the primary sense, but to denote perfect
similarity. When we say that ten thousand different persons
have all ' one and the same' Idea in their minds, or are all of
e one and the same' Opinion, we mean no more than that they
are all thinking exactly alike. When we say that they are all
in the ' same' posture, we mean that they are all 'placed alike;

lect. in.] ON INSTINCT. 73

and so also they are said all to have the ' same ' disease, when
they are all diseased alike."

It is hardly necessary to add, that I am a decided nomi-
nalist. The abstract Ideas of which persons speak, and the
mere names of which language is represented as furnishing, are
things to which I am a stranger. The using of Signs of some
kind, such as have been above described, the combining and re-
combining of these in various ways, and the analysing and
constructing of passages wherein they occur, this is what I
mean by the employment of language as an instrument of
thought; and this is what no brute has arrived at. Brutes
have (as has been said above), more or less, the use of language
to convey to others what is passing within them. But the
power of employing Abstraction at pleasure, so as to form
" general Signs" and make use of these Signs as an instrument
of thought, in carrying on the process which is strictly called
Reasoning, is probably the chief difference of Man and the brute ;
but Reason, in a sense in which the term is often employed, is,
to a certain extent, common to Man and brute. And Instinct,
again, although possessed by Man in an inferior degree to that
of the brutes, is, in some points, common to both.

Brutes, as has been said, have not command over Abstrac-
tion, so as to make use of it to form general Signs ; and it may
be added, that different men are, as to this point, elevated in
various degress — some more and some less — above the brutes.
A great degree of a certain kind of intelligence, similar to what
is found in the higher descriptions of brutes, is found in some
men who have a great inaptitude for abstract Reasoning. Per-
sons may often be met with who have much of a certain prac-
tical sagacity, and are accounted knowing, clever, and ingenious,
who yet are even below the average in respect of any scientific
studies ; and others again, who rank high in that particular
kind of intelligence, which is altogether peculiar to Man, are
often greatly inferior to others in those mental powers which
are, to a certain degree, common to Man with the higher
brutes.

74 ON INSTINCT.

[lect. m.

To sum up, then, what has been hitherto said : it appears
that there are certain kinds of intellectual power — of what, in
Man, at least, is always called Reason — common, to a certain
extent, to Man with the higher brutes. And again : that there
are certain powers wholly confined to Man — especially all those
concerned in what is properly called Reasoning — all employment
of language as an instrument of thought ; and it appears that
Instinct, again, is, to a certain extent, common to Man with
brutes, though far less in amount, and less perfect in Man ; and
more and more developed in other animals, the lower we descend
in the scale.

An Instinct is, as has been said above, a blind tendency to
some mode of action, independent of any consideration on the
part of the agent, of the end to which the action leads. Hunger
and thirst are no less an instinct in the adult, than the desire
of the new-born babe to suck, although it has no idea that milk
is in the breast, or that it is nutritious. When, on the other
hand, a man builds a house, in order to have shelter from the
weather, and a comfortable place to pursue his trade, or reside
in, the act is not called Instinct ; while that term does apply to
a bird's building a nest : because Man has not any blind desire
to build the house. The rudest savage always contemplates,
in forming his hut, the very object of providing a safeguard
against the weather, and perhaps against wild beasts and other
enemies. But, supposing Man had the Instinct of the bird —
supposing a man who had never seen a house, or thought of
protecting himself, had a tendency to construct something
analogous to a nest ; or again, supposing a bird was so endowed
with reason as to build a nest with a view to lay eggs therein,
and sit on them, with a design, and in order, to perpetuate its
species : in the former case Man would be a builder from
Instinct, and in the latter, the bird would be a builder from
Reason.

But it is worth observing that there are many cases in
which, though the agent is clearly acting from rational design
with a view to a certain end, yet the act may, in reference to

LBCT. in.] ON INSTINCT. 75

another and quite different end, which he did not contemplate,
be considered as in some sort instinctive. When, for instance,
any one deliberately takes means to provide food for the
gratification of his hunger, and has no other object in view, his
acts are, evidently, with a view to that immediate end, rational
and not instinctive. But he is, probably, at the same time,
and by the same act, promoting another object, the preservation
of his life, health, and strength; which object, by supposition,
he was not thinking about. His acts, therefore, are in refer-
ence to the preservation of life — analogous, at least, to those
of Instinct ; though, in reference to the object he was contem-
plating— the gratification of hunger — they are the result of
deliberate calculation.

There are many portions of men's conduct to which this
kind of description will apply — particularly all that men do
with a view solely to their own individual advantage, but which
does produce most important, though undesigned, advantages
to the Public. " And this procedure" (as I have observed in
the Fourth Lecture on Political Economy) " is, as far as regards
the object which the agent did not contemplate, precisely
analogous, at least, to that of instinct.

" The workman, for instance, who is employed in casting
printing-types, is usually thinking only of producing a commo-
dity by the sale of which he may support himself; with reference
to this object, he is acting, not from any impulse that is at all of
the character of instinct, but from a rational and deliberate
choice : but he is also, in the very same act, contributing most
powerfully to the diffusion of knowledge, about which perhaps
he has no anxiety or thought : in reference to this latter object,
therefore, his procedure corresponds to those operations of
various animals which we attribute to instinct; since they
doubtless derive some immediate gratification from what they
are doing, So Man is, in the same act, doing one thing, by
choice, for his own benefit, and another, undesignedly, under
the guidance of Providence, for the service of the community."

And again, " various parts of man's conduct as a member

76 ON INSTINCT. [lect. in.

of society are often attributed to human forethought and
design, which might with greater truth be referred to a kind
of instinct, or something analogous to it ; which leads him,
while pursuing some immediate personal gratification, to further
an object not contemplated by him. In many cases we are
liable to mistake for the wisdom of Man what is in truth the
wisdom of God.

" In nothing, perhaps, will an attentive and candid inquirer
perceive more of this divine wisdom than in the provisions
made for the progress of society. But in nothing is it more
liable to be overlooked. In the bodily structure of Man, we
plainly perceive innumerable marks of wise contrivance, in
which it is plain that Man himself can have had no share.
And again, in the results of instinct in brutes, although the
animals themselves are, in some sort, agents, we are sure that
they not only could not originally have designed the effects
they produce, but even afterwards have no notion of the con-
trivance by which these were brought about. But when human
conduct tends to some desirable end, and the agents are com-
petent to perceive that the end is desirable, and the means well
adapted to it, they are apt to forget, that, in the great majority
of instances, those means were not devised, nor those ends pro-
posed, by the persons themselves who are thus employed.
Those who build and who navigate a ship, have usually, I con-
ceive, no more thought about the national wealth and power,
the national refinements and comforts, dependent on the inter-
change of commodities, and the other results of commerce, than
they have of the purification of the blood in the lungs by the
act of respiration, or than the bee has of the process of con-
structing a honeycomb.

" Most useful indeed to Society, and much to be honoured,
are those who possess the rare moral and intellectual endow-
ment of an enlightened public spirit ; but if none did service
to the Public except in proportion as they possessed this,
Society I fear would fare but ill. Public spirit, either in the
form of Patriotism which looks to the good of a community, or

lect. ra.] ON INSTINCT. 77

in that of Philanthropy which seeks the good of the whole
human race, implies, not merely benevolent feelings stronger
than, in fact, we commonly meet with, but also powers of
abstraction beyond what the mass of mankind can possess. As
it is, many of the most important objects are accomplished by
the joint agency of persons who never think of them, nor have
any idea of acting in concert; and that with a certainty, com-
pleteness, and regularity, which probably the most diligent
benevolence, under the guidance of the greatest human wisdom,
could never have attained.

" For instance, let any one propose to himself the problem
of supplying with daily provisions of all kinds such a city as
our metropolis, containing above a million of inhabitants. Let
him imagine himself a head commissary, entrusted with the
office of furnishing to this enormous host their daily rations.
Any considerable failure in the supply, even for a single day,
might produce the most frightful distress, since the spot on
which they are cantoned produces absolutely nothing. Some,
indeed, of the articles consumed admit of being reserved in
public or private stores, for a considerable time ; but many,
including most articles of animal food, and many, of vegetable,
are of the most perishable nature. As a deficient supply of
these, even for a few days, would occasion great inconvenience,
so a redundancy of them would produce a corresponding waste.
Moreover, in a district of such vast extent, as this ' province '
(as it has been aptly called) ' covered with houses,' it is essential
that the supplies should be so distributed among the different
quarters, as to be brought almost to the doors of the inha-
bitants ; at least within such a distance that they may, without
an inconvenient waste of time and labour, procure their daily
shares.

" Moreover, whereas the supply of provisions for an army
or garrison is comparatively uniform in kind : here the greatest
possible variety is required, suitable to the wants of various
classes of consumers.

" Again, this immense population is extremely fluctuating

78 ON INSTINCT. [lect. in.

in numbers ; and the increase or diminution depends on causes,
of which, though some may, others can not, be distinctly
foreseen. The difference of several weeks in the arrival, for
instance, of one of the great commercial fleets, or in the
assembly or dissolution of a parliament, which cause a great
variation in the population, it is often impossible to foresee.

" Lastly, and above all, the daily supplies of each article
must be so nicely adjusted to the stock from which it is drawn
— rrto the scanty, or more or less abundant, harvest — importation
— or other source of supply — to the interval which is to elapse
before a fresh stock can be furnished, and to the probable
abundance of the new supply, that as little distress as possible
may be undergone ; that on the one hand the population may
not unnecessarily be put upon short allowance of any article,
and that on the other hand they may be preserved from the
more dreadful risk of famine, which would ensue from their
continuing a free consumption when the store was insufficient
to hold out.

" Now let any one consider this problem in all its bearings,
reflecting on the enormous and fluctuating number of persons
to be fed — the immense quantity, and the variety, of the pro-
visions to be furnished, the importance of a convenient distri-
bution of them, and the necessity of husbanding them discreetly;
and then let him reflect on the anxious toil which such a
task would impose on a Board of the most experienced and
intelligent commissaries; who after all would be able to dis-
charge their office but very inadequately.

" Yet this object is accomplished far better than it could be
by any effort of human wisdom, through the agency of men,
who think each of nothing beyond his own immediate interest —
who, with that object in view, perform their respective parts
with cheerful zeal — and combine unconsciously to employ the
wisest means for effecting an object, the vastness of which it
would bewilder them even to contemplate.

" It is really wonderful to consider with what ease and regu-
larity this important end is accomplished, day after day, and

lect. in.] ON INSTINCT. 79

year after year, through the sagacity and vigilance of private
interest operating on the numerous class of wholesale, and more
especially retail, dealers. Each of these watches attentively the
demands of his neighbourhood, or of the market he frequents,
for such commodities as he deals in. The apprehension, on the
one hand, of not realizing all the profit he might, and, on the other
hand, of having his goods left on his hands, either by his laying
in too large a stock, or by his rivals underselling him — these,
acting like antagonist muscles, regulate the extent of his deal-
ings, and the prices at which he buys and sells. An abundant
supply causes him to lower his prices, and thus enables the Pub-
lic to enjoy that abundance ; while he is guided only by the ap-
prehension of being undersold ; and, on the other hand, an
actual or apprehended scarcity causes him to demand a higher
price, or to keep back his goods in expectation of a rise.

" For doing this, corn-dealers in particular are often exposed
to odium, as if they were the cause of the scarcity ; while in re-
ality they are performing the important service of husbanding
the supply in proportion to its deficiency, and thus warding off
the calamity of famine ; in the same manner as the commander
of a garrison or a ship regulates the allowances according to the
stock, and the time it is to last. But the dealers deserve neither
censure for the scarcity which they are ignorantly supposed to
produce, nor credit for the important public service which they
in reality perform. They are merely occupied in gaining a fair
livelihood. And in the pursuit of this object, without any com-
prehensive wisdom, or any need of it, they co-operate, unknow-
ingly, in conducting a system which, we may safely say, no
human wisdom directed to that end could have conducted so well
— the system by which this enormous population is fed from day
to day.

" I have said, ' no human wisdom ;' for wisdom there surely
is in this adaptation of the means to the result actually produced.
In this instance, as well as in a multitude of others, from which
I selected it for illustration's sake, there are the same marks of
contrivance and design, with a view to a beneficial end, as we

80 ON INSTINCT.

[lect. m.

are accustomed to admire (when our attention is drawn to them
by the study of Natural Theology) in the anatomical structure
of the body, and in the instincts of the brute creation. The pul-
sations of the heart, the ramifications of vessels in the lungs —
the direction of the arteries and of the veins — the valves which
prevent the retrograde motion of the blood — all these exhibit a
wonderful combination of mechanical means towards the end
manifestly designed, the circulating system. But I know not
whether it does not even still more excite our admiration of the
beneficent wisdom of Providence, to contemplate, not corporeal
particles, but rational free agents, co-operating in systems no
less manifestly indicating design, yet no design of theirs ; and
though acted on, not by gravitation and impulse, like inert
matter, but by motives addressed to the will, yet advancing as
regularly and as effectually the accomplishment of an object they
never contemplated, as if they were merely the passive wheels
of a machine."

As for Instincts strictly so-called — those wholly unconnected
with anything rational in the agent — these are, as has been said,
more and more curiously developed the lower we go in the ani-
mal creation. Insects far surpass in this respect the more in-
telligent brutes. The architecture of many of these is far more
complicated and curious, than that of the bird or the beaver ;
and they not only construct receptacles for their young, but, in
many instances — that of the bee among others — store up in
these a supply of food of a totally different kind from what they
subsist on themselves.

The gratification which, doubtless, is in all cases afforded by
the performance of any instinctive act, is what we can give no
explanation of. Birds take a delight in picking up straws and
feathers, and weaving them into a nest ; and bees, in con-
structing a cell, and storing it with pollen, which they do not
eat themselves, but which is the food of the larvae. All we can
say is, that the bird has a kind of appetite at a certain season
for picking up straws ; and so for the rest. But the mysteri-
ousness of the process is greater in some cases than in others ;

lect. ni-1 ON INSTINCT. 81

because, in some cases we cannot, while in others we can,
perceive through what medium the instinct acts. We can under-
stand, for instance, thiough the means of what organs the in-
stincts of sucking and of suckling operate. We can understand
that the young calf is incited to suck by the smell of its mother's
milk, and that the mother is anxious to be sucked by its young,
because it is thus relieved from a painful and distressing dis-
tention of the udder ; but I cannot understand the analogous
instinct of birds. We do not know through the medium of what
organs birds are induced to put food into the mouths of their
young. We see a pair of birds searching all day long for food ;
and in many instances the food they seek is such as they do not
feed on themselves — for example, granivorous birds hunt after
caterpillars for their young : in other cases they seek for food
which their own appetite incites them to eat ; but they treasure
it for their young, and are impelled by an instinctive appetite to
put it into its mouth when opened. I might also add, that this
instinct is not peculiar to birds. The mammalia partake of
it; for we find wolves, dogs, and other carnivorous animals,
bringing home meat, and leaving it before their young ones. If
a bitch or wolf has pups, and cannot bring food to them other-
wise than by first swallowing it, she swallows it, and then dis-
gorges it ; for the animal has the power of evacuating its
stomach at pleasure. Pigeons invariably swallow the food be-
fore they give it to their young.

There are many other cases in which it cannot be ascer-
tained towards what the immediate impulses of animals tend.
Take the case of migratory birds — even those which have been
caged : when a particular season arrives, they desire to fly in a
certain direction. Now, towards what the impulse is we cannot
comprehend. They have a disposition to fly ; but it is not a
mere desire to use their wings. They have a disposition to fly
in a certain direction ; but what leads them in that direction
cannot be understood.

In some instances, in short, we know through what organs
the impulse acts, although we cannot understand why it is that
w. E. G

82 ON INSTINCT. [lect. in.

the organs should have that particular sort of impelling power.
In other instances we do not know the organs, or the impulse
on which the animal acts, but only the object designed by Pro-
vidence. As for instance, we can only say of migratory birds,
that they are impelled not by a mere desire to use their wings,
but to fly in a certain direction pointed out to them by God ;
but how pointed out, is only known to Him.

It is not my design to give a lecture on natural theology — a
subject which has been ably treated of by Paley and others ;
but I will take occasion to remark, that one of the most interest-
ing and important points dwelt on by these authors is, the
combination of physical laws with instincts adapted to them.
When we see a combination of causes all apparently directed
from various quarters to a certain end, which is accomplished
not by one impulse alone, but by an adaptation of several
impulses to certain physical laws, one of which would not be
effectual without the other, we cannot hesitate for a moment to
recognise this great principle in nature. One instance out of
many, of this principle, may be taken as a sample — that of the
instinct of suction, as connected with the whole process of rear-
ing young animals. The calf sucks, and its mother equally
desires to be disburthened of its milk. Thus there are two
instincts tending the same way. Moreover, the calf has an
appetite for grass also ; it takes hold of the grass, chews and
swallows it ; but it does not bite but sucks the teat. But it is
also necessary that there should be a physical adaptation of the
atmosphere to the instinct of the animal. It is the pressure
of the atmosphere upon the part, and the withdrawal of that
pressure within the young animal's mouth, which forces out the
milk. Here is an adaptation of instinct to the physical consti-
tution of the atmosphere. Yet, again, all this would be insuf-
ficient without the addition of that Storge, or instinctive
parental affection, which leads the dam carefully to watch and
defend its young. The most timid animals are ready to risk
their lives, and undergo any hardships, to protect their young,

i.Ef'T. m.] ON INSTINCT. 83

which is a feeling quite distinct from the gratification felt bj
the dam from her offspring drawing her milk. Here, then, are
several instincts, and the adaptation of the atmosphere to one
of those instincts, all combining towards the preservation of the
species ; which form, in conjunction, as clear an indication of
design as can be conceived. It is hardly possible to conceive
any plainer mark of design, unless a person were beforehand to
say that he intended to do a certain thing. Yet this is not all ;
for the secretion of milk is not common to both sexes, and all
ages, and all times. Here is the secretion of milk at a par-
ticular time, just corresponding with the need for it. If we
found sickles produced at harvest, fires lighted when the
weather is cold, and sails spread when favourable winds blow,
we should see clearly that these things were designed to effect a
certain end or object. Now, in the case of the mother and the
young, there is a secretion of milk at a particular period, and
in an animal of a distinct sex — the one which has given birth to
the young. Yet the perpetuation of the species might take plaee
if the milk had been so provided as to be constant and uniform
in all ages and sexes. But what we do see is, means provided
for an end, and just commensurate to that end.

I will conclude with proposing one more question, which I
consider well worthy of inquiry — that relating to the im-
planting and modification of Instinct in animals. The most
widely diffused of all implanted and modified Instincts is that
of Wildness or Tameness. Whether the original Instinct of
brutes was to be afraid of Man, or familiar with him, I will not
undertake to say. My own belief is, that it is the fear of Man
that is the implanted instinct. But at any rate, it is plain
that either the one or the other — wildness or tameness — must
be an implanted and not an original Instinct. All voyagers
agree, that when they have gone into a country which had not
apparently been visited by Man, neither bird nor beast exhibited
fear. The birds perched familiarly upon their guns, or stood
still to be knocked on the head. After the country had been
for some time frequented, not only individual animals become

g 3

84 ON INSTINCT. [lect. ra.

afraid of Man, but their offspring inherit that fear by Instinct.
The domesticated young of the cow, and the young of the wild
cattle of the same species, furnish illustrations of this fact. I
have seen an account of an experiment tried with respeet to
these latter. In this instance, a very young calf of one of the
breed of wild cattle still remaining in some of the forests in
England, on seeing a man approach, lay crouching close, and
preserving the most perfect stillness, apparently endeavoured to
escape notice. On being discovered, it immediately put itself
in an attitude of defence, commenced bellowing and butting at
the intruder with such violence that it fell forward upon its
knees, its limbs, from its tender age, being yet scarcely able to
support it. It rose and repeated the attack again and again,
till by its bellowing, the whole herd came galloping up to its
rescue. We all know how different this is from the action of a
young calf of the domestic breed.

To what extent Instinct is implanted in animals in conse-
quence of the education received by many generations of their
predecessors, is a point to which the attention of the curious
might be profitably directed. I have pointed out the road, and
hope that the question may lead to important inquiries upon
the subject.

LECTURE IV.

DR. PALEY'S WORKS.

To give anything like a complete review of the Works of
Dr. Paley, would far exceed the limits of a single Lecture, or
even of two or three. But a few remarks on some of the most
important matters he has treated of, and on the manner in
which he has handled them, will, it is hoped (considering how
important those matters are, and how great his celebrity as an
Author), be neither uninteresting nor uninstructive.

The very circumstance however of his being so well-known
an Author may perhaps be thought by some to make any notice
of his Works superfluous. But in truth, though these Works
are much read in comparison of those of most other writers,
they are less read — considering the popular character of most
of them — than they deserve to be. For one person that is well
acquainted with them, there are probably five — and those per-
fectly qualified to understand and to profit by the perusal —
who know little or nothing of them except at second-hand, and
by report.

On the other hand, it is far from superfluous to point out
some of the errors that are to be found in some of the
Works of this eminent man, and especially in that one — his
Moral Philosophy — which is in use as a University text-book.

That Work, and his Christian Evidences (including the
libra Pwulince), his Natural Theology, and his Sermons and
Charges, are the whole of his publications. They are all cha-
racterized by a remarkably clear and forcible style, very
simple, with an air of earnestness, generally devoid of orna-

86 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.

merit, and often homely ; but occasionally rising into a manly
and powerful eloquence.

His style is a striking contrast to that of a kind of writers,
who, in our day, are regarded by some with great admira-
tion ; Writers who affect a sort of mystical, dim, half-intelligible
kind of sublimity; and who, from their grandiloquent obscurity,
are supposed to be very profound ; just as muddy water is
sometimes taken for deep, because one cannot see to the bottom
of it.

Of this class of Writers, whom the late Bishop Copleston
used to call " the Magic-Lantern School," Paley is the very
opposite. And whenever anything that is at all of the cha-
racter of eloquence does appear in him, it is doubly striking
from its standing in such a strong relief, as it were, in the
midst of what is so remarkably plain and unadorned. It is like
a gleam of bright sunshine breaking out from a generally
clouded sky.

The concluding passage of the Sores Paulince affords a
striking example of the effect thus produced. The general
style of the work is business-like, simple and unpretending, to
the greatest degree. But the winding up of the argument at
the conclusion is in a kind of unstudied eloquence which
reminds one of a lightning flash from a dark cloud. This work
is, as probably most of you are aware, an examination of the
Apostle Paul's Epistles along with the Acts of the Apostles,
in order to show, by internal evidence alone, that they must
both be genuine Works. He discovers a vast number of points
of coincidence between them, so minute, and evidently unde-
signed, that it is totally impossible they could' ever have found
their way either into a forgery, or a compilation made up in
after-ages from floating traditions. And this is done so ably
and so satisfactorily, that I have often recommended the study
of this work to legal students ; not merely on account of its
intrinsic value, with a view to its own immediate object, but also
as an admirable exercise in the art of sifting evidence.

That minuteness in the points of coincidence which I have

lect. iv.] dr. paley's works. 87

alluded to, and which Paley so earnestly dwells on, is just the
circumstance which, in a question of evidence, makes their im-
portance the greater. The unthinking are apt to overlook this,
and to conclude that what is itself a very small and trifling
circumstance, is small and unimportant as a proof. But the
most important evidence is often furnished by things the most
insignificant in themselves. The impression of the sole of a
Man's Shoe, or a scrap of paper used as Wadding for a gun,
have led to the detection of crimes. And in reality it is alto-
gether in minute points that the difference is to be perceived
between truth and fabrication. A false story may easily be
made plausible in its general outline ; — in the great features of
the transactions related. But in some very minute particulars,
which would escape notice except on a very close examination,
there will almost always be found some inconsistencies, such as,
of course, could not exist in a true narrative.

The difference- in this respect, between truth and fabrication,
answers to that between the productions of Nature and the
works of Art. Both may appear equally perfect at a slight
glance, or even on close inspection by the naked eye. But
apply a microscope to each, and you will see the difference. A
piece of delicate cambric, under the Solar Microscope, looks
like a coarse sail-cloth ; and an artificial flower, which might
deceive the naked eye even of a florist, will appear rugged and
uneven ; while the petals of a real flower, or the wing of a fly,
when thus examined, exhibit such delicate and perfect and
beautiful regularity, that " even Solomon in all his glory was not
arrayed like one of these." And so it is when we apply the
Microscope of close and minute investigation to genuine compo-
sitions and true history.

Paley, then, having by the application of his Microscope
fully established the genuineness of these Works, proceeds in
conclusion, to state very briefly the inference which inevitably
follows, considering what the matter of them is, and to whom
written, and by whom, and when.

" Here then," he says, " we have a man of liberal attain-

88 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.

ments, and in other points, of sound judgment, who had
addicted his life to the service of the Gospel. We see him, in
the prosecution of his purpose, travelling from country to
country, enduring every species of hardship, encountering every
extremity of danger, assaulted by the populace, punished by
the magistrates, scourged, beat, stoned, left for dead ; expecting,
wherever he came, a renewal of the same treatment and the
same dangers ; yet, when driven from one city, preaching in the
next ; spending his whole time in the employment, sacrificing to
it his pleasures, his ease, his safety ; persisting in this course
to old age, unaltered by the experience of perverseness, ingrati-
tude, prejudice, desertion ; unsubdued by anxiety, want, labour,
persecutions ; unwearied by long confinement, undismayed by
the prospect of death. Such was St. Paul. We have his
letters in our hands : we have also a history purporting to be
written by one of his fellow-travellers, and appearing, by a
comparison with these letters, certainly to have been written by
some person well acquainted with the transactions of his life.
From the letters, as well as from the history, we gather not
only the account which we have stated of him, but that he was
one out of many who acted and suffered in the same manner ;
and that, of those who did so, several had been the companions
of Christ's Ministry, the ocular witnesses, or pretending to be
such, of his Miracles, and of his resurrection. We moreover
find this same person referring in his letters to his supernatural
conversion, the particulars and accompanying circumstances of
which are related in the history, and which accompanying cir-
cumstances, if all or any of them be true, render it impossible
to have been a delusion. We also find him positively and in
appropriated terms, asserting that he himself worked Miracles,
strictly and properly so called, in support of the Mission which
he executed ; the history, meanwhile, recording various passages
of his Ministry, which come up to the extent of this assertion.
" The question is, whether falsehood was ever attested by evi-
dence like this. Falsehoods, we know, have found their way
into reports, into tradition, into books : but is an example to be
met with, of a man voluntarily undertaking a life of want and

lect iv.] dr. paley's works. 89

pain, of incessant fatigue, of continual peril ; submitting to the
loss of his home and country, to stripes and stoning, to tedious
imprisonment, and the constant expectation of a violent death,
for the sake of carrying about a story of what was false, and of
what, if false, he must have known to be so ? "

Very eloquent again, though much too long for citation, is
the concluding chapter of the Natural Theology.

And now compare a passage of such clear, homely, forcible
simplicity as this, with the bombastic obscurity of such Writers
as it is now the fashion, with some persons, to admire as full of
transcendental wisdom and eloquence; and say which is the
more likely to be approved by those of solid good sense, and
pure taste ; and which, by those of an opposite character.

Here is a specimen, to which as many more might be added
as would fill a volume : —

Tradition is " a vast system, not to be comprised in a few
sentences, not to be embodied in one code or treatise, but con-
sisting of a certain body of truth, permeating the Church like
an atmosphere, irregular in its shape from its very profusion

and exuberance ; at times melting away into legend

and fable; partly written, partly unwritten, partly the inter-
pretation, partly the supplement of Scripture, partly preserved
in intellectual expressions, partly latent in the spirit and temper
of Christians ; poured to and fro in closds and upon the house-
tops, in liturgies, in controversial works, in obscure fragments,
in sermons1."

Again, " It [Religion] is a mountain air ; it is the embalmer
of the world. It is myrrh, and storax, and chlorine, and rose-
mary. It makes the sky and hills sublime ; and the silent

song of the stars is it Always the seer is the sayer.

Somehow his dream is told, somehow he publishes it with solemn
joy, sometimes with pencil on canvas, sometimes with chisel on
stone; sometimes in towers and aisles of granite, his soul's wor-
ship is builded Man is the Wonder Maker. He is seen

amid miracles. The stationaryness of religion, the assumption

Newman's Lectures on the Church, p. 298.

90 DK. PALEY's WORKS. [Lect. iv.

that the age of inspiration is past, tliat the Bible is closed ; the
fear of degrading the character of Jesus by representing Him as
a Man, indicate with sufficient clearness, the falsehood of our
theology. It is the office of a true teacher to show us that God
is, not was — that He speaketh, not spoke. The true Christi-
anity— a faith like Christ's in the infinitude of Man — is lost.
None believe th in the soul of Man, but only in some man or per-
son old and departed ! In how many churches, and by how many
prophets, tell me, is Man made sensible that he is an infinite
soul ; that the earth and heavens are passing into his mind ;
and that he is drinking for ever the soul of God ! The very
word Miracle, as pronounced by Christian churches, gives a
false impression ; it is a monster ; it is not one with the blowing

clover and the falling rain Man's life is a miracle,

and all that Man doth A true conversion, a true

Christ, is now, as always, to be made by the reception of
beautiful sentiments. The gift of God to the soul is not a
vaunting, overpowering, excluding sanctity, but a sweet natural
goodness like thine and mine, and that thus invites thine and
mine to be, and to grow."

" If thou hast any tidings," says Falstaff to Pistol, " prithee
deliver them like a man of this world."

It is worth observing that this Writer (as well as several
others of these "Children of the Mist") professes to be a
Cht istian. They believe in Christianity, all but the history and
the doctrines. The history they consider as partly true, but
partly a Myth, and partly an exaggerated and falsified report ;
and the doctrines as a mixture of truth with errors and pious
frauds. Yet though in reality much further removed from
Christianity than a Jew or a Mahometan, they are quite ready
to take that oath, " on the true faith of a Christian," which many
have regarded as the great bulwark of the christian character of
our Legislature ! And you should observe that, with hypocrisy
(against which, it has been most truly remarked, no legal enact-
ments can afford security) these persons are not at all chargeable.
They are to be censured indeed for an unwarrantable use of the
terms they employ ; — for inventing a new language of their own,

lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. 91

and calling it English. But since they tell us what it is they
do mean by Christianity, they cannot fairly be accused of deceit.
I am told that the school or sect to which most of these
Writers belong is called " Positivity" and that its doctrine is
the worship of Human Nature. If you have no clear notion con-
cerning this system, you are, probably, so far, on a level with
its authors.

Paley's Horce Paulince was, I understood, considered by him-
self as his Masterpiece. And in that judgment I concur. In his
other Works, much of the valuable matter they contain is ex-
tracted in a condensed form from other authors ; so that his
chief praise — no slight one however — is that of an able com-
piler. But the Eorce Paulince, is emphatically an original Work,
and one which exhibits in a most striking manner his peculiar
acuteness in sifting evidence.

It is not unlikely that this work has had the effect, among
others, of inciting subsequent Writers to enter on the task of
investigating internal evidences ; while it has furnished them
with an admirable example of the way in which the process is
to be conducted.

A most interesting Work which has appeared but a few
years ago, Smith's Voyage and Shipwreck of St. Paul, reminds
one of Paley's volume, which perhaps may in some degree have
suggested it.

And' the same may be said of Graves's Lectures on the Pen-
tateuch.

Paley's longer Work on the Evidences is in a great measure
compiled from Dr. Lardner's Credibility of the Grospel, exhibiting
the main part of his arguments in a more compressed, and at
the same time more popular form. A still more brief, and still
more popular compendium, however, seemed yet wanting ; and
accordingly a little Tract, which most of you probably are ac-
quainted with, was drawn up a few years ago, containing the
substance of most of Paley's arguments, with the addition of
some others.

To that Tract, and to Paley's Evidences, and to his Horn

92 DR. paley's WORKS. [LECT. jy.

Paulince, and to Leslie's and Lardner's Works on the same sub-
ject, no answer, as far as I know and believe, has ever been
brought forward. The opponents of Christianity always chuse
their own position ; and the position they chuse is always that of
the assailant. They bring forward objections; but never at-
tempt to defend themselves against the objections to which they
are exposed.

The cause of this it is easy to perceive. Objections — not
only plausible, but real, valid, and sometimes unanswerable ob-
jections— may be brought against what is nevertheless true, and
capable of being fully established by a preponderance of proba-
bility ;— by showing that there are more and weightier objec-
tions on the opposite side. If therefore any one can induce you
to attend to the objections on one side only, wholly overlooking
the (perhaps weightier) opposite ones, he may easily gain an ap-
parent triumph. A barrister would have an easy task if he
were allowed to bring forward all that could be said against the
party he was opposed to, and to pass over in silence all that
could be urged on the other side, as not worth answering.

And many of the best-established and universally admitted
historical facts, might in this way be assailed, by showing that
they are in many respects very improbable. The history, for
instance, of Napoleon Buonaparte has been shown to contain a
much greater amount of gross and glaring improbabilities than
any equal portion of Scripture-history; or perhaps even than
all the Scripture-narratives together. And yet all believe it ;
because the improbability of its being an entire fabrication is
incalculably greater.

Again, the far greater portion of the human race have never
seen the Ocean ; and they believe in its existence on the testi-
mony— at second or third hand — of others. Now this is a thing
which, according to Hume, they ought not to believe on any tes-
timony, because it is at variance with their experience. Not only
have they never seen any such thing, but they have had experience
of ponds and rivers, all, of fresh Water ; while they are told that
the sea is salt; and this, though the fresh rivers, and fresh rain,

lect. iv.] dr. paley's works. 93

are said to fall into it. Moreover they are told tliat it abounds
in fish ; and they have had experience of fish living in fresh
Water, but none of their living in brine. And if they tried the
experiment of putting some river fish into brine, and found that
it killed them, they might say that they now knew by experi-
ence the falsity of what they had been told respecting the Ocean,
in addition to their general experience of men's telling false
tales.

To prove that there is nothing improbable in the existence
of a salt ocean covering above three-fourths of the Globe, would
not be easy. And yet men do believe it, and have good reasons
for believing it, even when they have not seen it.

And practically, all reasonable men proceed on the maxim
of an ancient Greek author, which is repeatedly cited by
Aristotle ; that "it is probable that many improbable things
will happen."

Indeed, were it not so, every intelligent and well-informed
man would be a prophet. By an extensive study of History,
and observation of Mankind, he would have learned to judge
accurately what kind of events are probable. And if nothing
ever happened at variance with probabilities, — if everything was
sure to turn out conformably to reasonable expectations (which
is just what is always assumed by anti-christian Writers),
then, such a person might sit down and write a prospective
history of the next Century; and do this as easily and as
correctly as he could write a history of the last century : even
as astronomers can calculate forwards the eclipses that are to
come, as easily as they can calculate backwards those that are
past.

Let those objectors then, who are merely objectors, try the
experiment of writing a conjectural prophetic history. Their
histories, I conceive, would be found a good deal at variance
with each other; and all of them, when the time arrived, at
variance with the events.

That most interesting and valuable Work, the Natural

94 dr. paley's works.

[lect. TV.

Theology, it has of late been asserted was chiefly taken from
a Dutch Writer, with less acknowledgment than ought to have
been made. How the fact stands, I am not competent to
decide. But if it be true that Paley is more largely indebted
to another Writer than he has himself represented, this may
verily easily have happened without any designed misrepre-
sentation. When a Work has been long in hand — as was
probably the case with this one — the author is not unlikely
to forget the source from which he had originally derived some
of the facts and of the arguments which had long since become
familiar to him, and, as it were, a part of the furniture of his
mind. And he may thence occasionally fall into an unconscious
plagiarism.

It should be observed however, on the other hand, that
there are some critics who have cultivated something of the
mental habits of a " detective Policeman," always on the
look-out for stolen goods ; — critics who are so anxious to
display their acuteness in finding plagiarisms, that if in two
authors they meet with the same thought, or anything that
can be tortured into a coincidence, they at once infer that the
one must have taken it from the other.

In the Natural Theology Paley has exceedingly well pointed
out numerous instances of evident design in the Universe, and
of such wise design as manifestly proves an intelligent Creator.
But in what he says of benevolent design, and, universally, in
all that relates to the Moral attributes of the Deity, he labours
under a disadvantage resulting from his peculiar views on the
subject of morality. Not that he is to be complained of for
not satisfactorily explaining — what no one can explain — the
existence of evil in the universe. But considering what a
mixture of good and evil actually does present itself to our
view, it would be impossible for Man, if he really were such a
Being as Paley represents him to be, to form those notions of
the divine benevolence which Paley himself contends for.

Man, according to him, has no moral faculty, — no power
of distinguishing right from wrong, — no preference of justice

lect. it.] dr. paley's works. 95

to injustice, or kindness to cruelty, except when one's own
personal interest happens to be concerned. And this he
attempts to establish by collecting all the instances that are to
be found in various ages and countries, of anomalies in men's
moral judgment; showing that this kind of crime was approved
in one country, and that kind in another: that one vice was
tolerated in one age, and another in another. And even so,
one might collect specimens of anomalies in the human frame ;
showing that some persons have been born without arms or
without legs ; some, deaf-mutes, some blind, and some idiots.
Whence it might be inferred, that Man ought not to be
described as a rational Being, or one endowed with the faculty
of speech, or having eyes, and hands, and feet. A man then,
according to his view, being compelled, by the view of the
universe, to admit that God is benevolent, is thence led, from
prudential motives alone, to cultivate benevolence in himself, with
a view to secure a future reward. The truth, I conceive, is
exactly the reverse of this; viz., that Man having in himself
a Moral-faculty (or taste, as some prefer to call it) by which
he is instinctively led to approve virtue and disapprove vice,
is thence disposed and inclined antecedently, to attribute to
the Creator of the universe, — the most perfect and infinitely
highest of Beings, — all those moral (as well as intellectual)
qualities which to himself seem the most worthy of admiration,
and intrinsically beautiful and excellent. For, to do evil
rather than good, appears to all men (except to those who
have been very long hardened and depraved by the extreme
of wickedness) to imply something of weakness, imperfection,
corruption, and degradation. I say " disposed and inclined,"
because our admiration for benevolence, wisdom, &c, would
not alone be sufficient to make us attribute these to the Deity,
if we saw no marks of them in the creation ; but our finding
in the creation many marks of contrivance, and of beneficent
contrivance, together with the antecedent bias in our own minds,
which inclines us to attribute goodness to the Supreme Being —
both these conjointly lead us to the conclusion that God is infi-

96 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect.it.

nitely benevolent, notwithstanding the admixture of evil in his
works, which we cannot account for. But these appearances
of evil would stand in the way of such a conclusion, if Man
really were, what Dr. Paley represents him, a Being destitute of
all moral sentiment, — all innate and original admiration of
goodness. He would, in that case, be more likely to come to
the conclusion (as many of the Heathen seem actually to have
done) that the Deity was a Being of a mixed or of a capricious
nature; an idea which, shocking as it is to every well- con-
stituted mind, would not be so in the least, to such a mind as
Dr. Paley attributes to the whole human species.

To illustrate this argument a little further ; suppose a taste-
ful architect and a rude savage to be both contemplating a
magnificent building, unfinished, or partially fallen to ruin ;
the one, not being at all able to comprehend the complete
design, nor having any taste for its beauties if perfectly
exhibited, would not attribute any such design to the author of
it, but would suppose the prostrate columns and rough stones to
be as much designed as those that were erect and perfect ; the
other would sketch out in his own mind something like the
perfect structure of which he beheld only a part ; and though
he might not be able to explain how it came to be unfinished,
or decayed, would conclude that some such design was in the
mind of the builder : though this same man, if he were contem-
plating a mere rude heap of stones which bore no marks of
design at all, would not in that case draw such a conclusion.

Or again, suppose two persons, one having an ear for
music, and the other totally destitute of it, were both listening
to a piece of music imperfectly heard at a distance, or half
drowned by other noises, so that only some notes of it were
distinctly caught, and others were totally lost or heard im-
perfectly ; the one might suppose that the sounds he heard
were all that were actually produced, and think the whole that
met his ear to be exactly such as was designed ; but the other
would form some notion of a piece of real music, and would
conclude that the interruptions and imperfections of it were not

lect. iv ] dr. paley's works. 97

parts of the design, but were to be attributed to his imperfect
hearing: though if he heard on another occasion, a mere con-
fusion of sounds without any melody at all, he would not
conclude that anything like music was designed.

The application is obvious : the wisdom and goodness dis-
cernible in the structure of the universe, but imperfectly
discerned, and blended with evil, leads a man who has an
innate approbation of those attributes, to assign them to the
Author of the universe, though he be unable to explain that
admixture of evil ; but if Man were destitute of moral senti-
ments, the view of the universe, such as it appears to us, would
hardly lead him to that conclusion.

When the edition of Archbishop King's discourse appeared
(from the Appendix to which the above passage is extracted) a
gentleman belonging to a university in which Paley's Moral
Philosophy is a text-book, published a vindication of him from
the charge of denying the existence of a Moral-faculty. He
sent me, along with a very courteous letter, a copy of his work.
I expressed, in answer, my very great surprise that there should
exist any difference of opinion, not, as to the soundness of
Paley's view, but of what it is that he does say ; considering
how very perspicuous his style is. And I transcribed a short
passage from the Moral Philosophy , giving a reference to several
others ; all to the same purpose. In reply, the writer of the
vindication confessed that he had overlooked these passages,
which did, he admitted, fully bear out my remarks.

I was indeed well prepared to believe, that (as I said in the
opening of this Lecture) many persons hear much, and talk
much, of Paley's Works, while they have read little or nothing
of them. But that any one should publish a commentary on a
work which he had not read with even moderate attention, over-
looking a statement which is no slight incidental remark, but
the very basis of the whole system, — this did seem to me very
strange.

The passage I cited is the following, from chap. iii. " Let
it be asked, Why am I obliged to keep my word ? and the

W. E. H

98 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.

answer will be, Because I am urged to do so by a violent
motive (namely, the expectation of being, after this life, re-
warded if I do, or punished if I do not) resulting from the com-
mand of another; — namely, of God. . . . Therefore private
happiness is our motive, and the will of God, our rule."

Here, by the way, it is to be observed that in speaking of
reward, he contradicts what he had laid down in the preceding
chapter ; in which he expressly excludes the idea of reward
from that of obligation. " Offer a man," says he, " a gratuity
for doing anything, he is not obliged by your offer, to do it ;
though he may be induced, prevailed upon, tempted, to do it."

Again, he says in the same third chapter : " There is
always understood to be a difference between an act of prudence
and an act of duty. Thus, if I distrusted a man who owed me
a sum of money, I should reckon it an act of prudence to get
another person bound with him ; but I should hardly call it an
act of duty. On the other hand, it would be thought a very
unusual and loose kind of language, to say — that as I had made
such a promise, it was prudent to perform it ; or that, as my
friend, when he went abroad, placed a box of jewels in my
hands, it would be prudent in me to preserve it for him till he
returned.

" Now in what, you will ask, does the difference consist?
inasmuch as, according to our account of the matter, both in
the one case and the other, — in acts of duty, as well as acts of
prudence, — we consider solely what we ourselves shall gain or
lose by the act.

" The difference, and the only difference, is this ; that, in
the one case, we consider what we shall gain or lose in the
present world ; in the other case, we consider also what we shall
gain or lose in the world to come.

" They who would establish a system of morality, indepen-
dent of a future state, must look out for some different idea of
moral obligation ; unless they can show that virtue conducts
the possessor to certain happiness in this life, or ti> a much
greater share of it than he could attain by a different behaviour."

LECT. iv.] dk. paley's works. 99

And the same doctrine is repeatedly and distinctly stated
in other places; as the very fundamental principle of the
treatise.

When he says that " they who would establish a system of
morality independent of a future state, must look out for some
different idea of moral obligation," it is strange it did not occur
to him, that, according to him, they never could possibly form
any idea of it at all. One might as well say, Men see with
their eyes, and cannot see any otherwise ; and those who have
no eyes, must see as well as they can without them.

And equally strange is the qualification he adds, — t{ Unless
they can show that virtue conducts the possessor to certain
happiness in this life, or to a much greater share of it than he
could attain by a different behaviour." For, by his account,
if they could show this (and this is what Aristotle and all the
ancient heathen moralists do maintain ; none of whom make any
reference to a future state of reward and punishment, or appear
to have believed in any), then, what is commonly called virtue
would be merely a branch of prudence. For, " the only
difference," — he had just said — '* between an act of prudence
and an act of duty, depends on our looking to the present world,
or to the world to come." And it is as plain as any axiom of
Euclid, that if you take away " the only difference" between two
things, you leave them exactly alike.

Yet Aristotle and the other ancient writers, did in common
with all their countrymen, use terms which we rightly translate
by the word " virtue ;" and always draw a distinction between
that and a mere regard for one's worldly interest. All which
would have been clearly impossible, if Paley's theory were
correct. It is refuted not by any alleged truth and soundness
in their views, but by the very language they employ.

If you could imagine a whole nation labouring under that
curious defect of vision which does exist in some few individuals,
the total non-perception of colours, you might be quite sure
that that nation would not have in their language any words
signifying red, yellow, blue, and green. And you may be no

h3

100 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [u3CT.nr.

lews sure that a nation which perceived no difference between
virtue and self-interest, would have no such word as tl virtue"
in their language.

But, in truth, Paley's distinction between an act of duty
and an act of prudence, is one which is not recognised in the
expressions or the notions of any class of men in any country ;
and amounts (as far as regards the present question) to no
distinction at all. Whatever is done wholly and solely from
motives of personal expediency, — from calculations of individ-
ual loss or gain- — is always accounted a matter of prudence, and
not of virtue. If you could suppose a man who had no disap-
probation whatever of cruelty, injustice, and ingratitude, as
things bad in themselves, and who would feel no scruple
against committing theft or murder, if he could do so with
impunity, but who abstained from such acts purely from fear
of suffering for it, whether in this life or the next, just as he
would abstain from placing his money in an insecure bank ;
and if he relieved the distressed, and did services to his
neighbours, without any kindly feeling, or any sense of duty,
but entirely with a view to his own advantage, hoping to
obtain, — suppose, — votes at an election, or some benefit in an-
other world, — just as a grazier feeds his cattle well, that he
may make the better profit of them, — we should not, if we
thought thus of him, call him a virtuous man, but merely
prudent.

Revelation was not bestowed on Mankind to impart to them
the first notions of moral good and evil, but to supply suffi-
cient motives for right practice, and sufficient strength to act
on those motives. And accordingly you find in the New
Testament that those to whom the Gospel was preached are
not addressed as persons having no notion of any difference
between right and wrong ; but are exhorted to " add to their
faith, virtue, brotherly love, charity," and to follow after
" whatsoever things are pure, and lovely, and honest, and of
good report."

And this indeed is distinctly and fully admitted by Paley

lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WOEKS. 101

himself; who says, in the opening of his Treatise, that " the
Scriptures pre-suppose in the persons to -whom they speak, a
knowledge of the principles of natural justice ; and are
employed, not so much to teach new rules of morality, as
to enforce the practice of it by new sanctions." It is strange
he did not perceive that this admission overthrows his theory
of the non-existence of a natural conscience. For, the far
greater part of those whom the New-Testament Scriptures
address had been brought up in Paganism ; a religious system
as immoral as it was absurd. They could not therefore have
originally derived their " principles of natural justice" from
calculations founded on a knowledge of the divine will ; but
must have had (as Paul assures us) " the law written in their
hearts ; their conscience also bearing witness."

But the great heathen Moralist, Aristotle, after having
given a full and glowing description of what virtue is, and on
the whole, not an incorrect one, laments (in the conclusion of
his treatise) that so few can be induced in practice to model
their life on the principles he has laid down. He is like the
fabled Prometheus, who was said to have succeeded in fashion-
ing a well-constructed human body, but found it a cold and
lifeless corpse, till he had ascended up to heaven, to bring
down celestial fire to animate the frame. And thus it is that
the writings of this, and of other Heathen Moral Philosophers
furnish a strong confirmation of the divine origin of our reli-
gion ; since it is morally impossible, humanly speaking, that
ignorant Galilsean peasants and fishermen could have written in
a moral tone partly coinciding with, and partly surpassing,
that of the most learned Philosophers of Greece.

To discuss as fully as it deserves the interesting and im-
portant subject now before us, would, of course, far exceed the
limits of this Lecture. But those who do feel an interest in
it, may be referred to works that are quite accessible, and not
at all too abstruse for ordinary readers. Some of you probably
are acquainted with a little elementary book of Lessons on

102 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. it.

Morals, of which the greater part appeared first in the
periodical called the Leisure Sour, and in which the points I
have now slightly touched on are treated of more fully. And
there is an edition of selections from Aristotle's Moral Philo-
sophy, for the use of the students of Trinity College, Dublin,
which I have been accustomed to recommend even to readers
who understand nothing of Greek, for the sake of a disserta-
tion, of considerable length, in English, and in very plain
English, which is prefixed, and which I consider to be well
worth the price of the whole book1.

At present, I will only add, before quitting the subject, a
brief remark on the curious circumstance that Paley's doc-
trine of the total absence, in Man, of any Moral-faculty, is
strenuously maintained by a large class of persons the most
opposed to him as a theologian, and who regard his opinions
on religion as utterly unsound.

M. Napoleon Roussel is one out of many of these. He has
published a number of little tracts, all ingenious, and most of
them sound and edifying. But in one of them — The Believing
Infidel (IS Incredule Croyani) he strongly advocates (though not
more so than many other divines of a very influential school)
the views I have been alluding to.

The cause of this their adherence to Paley's theory I con-
ceive to be a well-intentioned but misdirected desire to exalt
God's glory, and set forth Man's sinfulness, without perceiving
that they are in fact doing away with both the one and the other.

If Man be naturally destitute of any faculty that distinguishes
right and wrong, — any notion of such a thing as Duty — then,
no one can be accounted sinful, any more than a brute beast,
or a born idiot. These do many things that are odious and
mischievous, and that would be sin in a rational Being; but
the term sin we never apply to their acts (any more than the
term folly) precisely because they lack a Moral-faculty and a
rational nature; — because not having a conscience, they
cannot violate the dictates of conscience. Indeed, an idiot

1 Since this Lecture was delivered, an edition of Paley's Moral Philosophy with
Annotations has appeared.

lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. 103

is accordingly called, in some parts of the country, an " in-
nocent," on the very ground of his having this deficiency,
which Paley and his followers attribute to all mankind. And
a revelation of the divine commands to a Being destitute of the
Moral-faculty, though it might deter him from certain acts
through fear of punishment, as brutes, we all know, may be so
influenced, would leave him still remaining (as they are) a
stranger to any notion of such a thing as Duty. He would be
no more a moral agent than a dog or a horse1.

And to speak to such a Being of the moral attributes of the
Deity, Avould be like speaking of colours to a blind-born man.
If he attaches no meaning to the words " good," and " just,"
and " right," except that such is the divine command, then, to
say that God is good, and his commands just, is only saying in
a circuitous way, that He is what He is, and that what He wills
He wills ; which might equally be said of any Being in the
universe. Indeed, this is what Paley himself perceives and
distinctly admits. [Chap, ix.] He admits that we attribute
goodness to the Most High, on account of the conformity
of his acts to the principles which we are accustomed to call
"good;" and that these principles are called "good" solely
from their conformity to the divine will. It is very strange
that when he did perceive that he was thus proceeding in
a circle, this did not open his eyes to the erroneousness of the
principle which had led him into it.

And any one would be equally involved in a vicious circle,
who, while he held Paley's theory, should refer to the pure and
elevated moral tone of the New Testament as an internal
evidence (and in reality it is a very strong one) to prove that
it could not be the unaided work of ignorant, half-crazy Jewish
peasants and fishermen. For, if all our moral notions are
entirely derived from that book, to say that the morality of
the book is correct, is merely to say that it is what it is. We
should be arguing like the Mahometans, who infer the in-
spiration of the Koran from the excellence of its style; they
having made the Koran their sole standard of style, and reckon-

1 Rom. i ii.

104 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.

ing every work to be the better or the worse Arabic, in propor-
tion as it approaches more or less to the language of the
Koran.

But what tends to keep up this confusion of thought in
some men's minds is this ; we do conclude in this or that
particular instance, that so and so is wise and good, though
we do not perceive its wisdom and goodness, but found our
conviction solely on its being the divine will. But then,
this is from our general conviction that God is wise and
good; not from our attaching no meaning to the words wise
and good, except the divine will. Then, and then only, can
the command of a Superior make anything a duty, when we
set out with the conviction that it is a duty to obey him. It is
just so, accordingly, that we judge even in what relates to our
fellow-men. If some measure were proposed by any friend
whom you knew from his past conduct to be a very able and
upright man, you would presume, even before you knew any
particulars of that measure, that it must be a wise and good
one. This would be a natural and a fair mode of judging of
the unknown from the known. And you would think a person
very absurd who should thereupon conclude that you had no
notion at all of what is a wise and good measure, and meant
nothing by those words except that it is what proceeds from
that friend of yours. And so it is in many other cases. You
have read (suppose) several works of a certain author, and
have found them all highly interesting and instructive. If,
then, you hear of his bringing out a new work, you expect,
before you have seen it, that it will be a valuable one. But
this is not from your meaning by a " valuable work " nothing
at all but that it comes from his pen, but from your reasoning
— very justly — from the known to the unknown.

To infer that because this or that particular book, or
measure, or rule of conduct, may be presumed to be good,
solely on account of the person it proceeds from, therefore
the same may be the case with all of them collectively, would be
a gross fallacy, (what in logical language is called the " fallacy

lect. rv.] DR. paley's works. 105

of composition") and one which, in such instances as those just
given, would be readily detected.

A right-minded Christian then will say, " I am sure so and
so is right, though I do not understand why or how it is ; but
such is the command of my heavenly Father ; and I do under-
stand that I have good grounds for trusting in Him." And
such a man will keep clear of the presumption, calling itself
humility, of those who insist on it that in such and such in-
stances the Almighty had no reason at all for what He has
done, except (as they express it) to " declare his sovereignty ;"
and that He acted only "for his own glory ;" as if He could
literally seek glory ! Whenever the Most High has merely
revealed to us his will, we must not dare to pronounce that He
had no reasons for it except his will, because He has not thought
fit to make those reasons known to us. To say (as some
have presumed to say1) that He does so and so for no cause
ivhatever except that He chuses it, seems little, if at all, short of
blasphemy. Even an earthly king, being not responsible to
any of his subjects for the reasons of his commands, may
sometimes think fit to issue commands without explaining
his reasons. And it would be insolent rashness for any one
thence to conclude that he had no reasons, but acted from
mere caprice.

So also, a dutiful child will often have to say, " I do so and
so because my kind and wise parents have commanded me :
that is reason enough for me." But though this is — to the
child — a very good reason for obeying the command, it would
be a very bad reason, with the parents, for giving that command.
And he would show his filial veneration, and trust, not by taking
for granted that his parents had no reason for their commands,
but, on the contrary, by taking for granted that there was
a good reason both for their acting as they did, and for their
withholding from him any explanation.

Paley's theory is derived (as he informs us), in great measure,

1 See Lessons on Morale, Lees. XVIII. I 4, Note.

106 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. rv.

from Tucker's Light of Nature : a work of great originality, and
containing much curious and valuable matter, mixed up with
much that is not at all deserving of approbation. It is a
book -which I have been accustomed to compare to a gold-mine,
containing many particles, and some considerable masses, of
very precious metal, confusedly intermingled with much gravel
and clay. I cannot think Paley was happy in his choice of
the portion he has selected. He would have found a much
safer guide in the celebrated Bishop Butler. The denial
however of a Moral-faculty was no new device of Tucker's ;
being substantially what was maintained by the infidel Hobbes
in his once-celebrated work the Leviathan. And it was so far
from being new, then, that it is noticed by Aristotle as having
been maintained in his time.

It is to be observed however that Paley' s fault as a Moralist
is chiefly one of omission. I mean, that much of what he says
is truth, though far short of the whole truth; and that he
arrives at many right conclusions, though based on insufficient
grounds. It is true, for instance, that we are commanded to do
what is right, and forbidden to do what is wrong ; though it is
not true that this is the only meaning of the words " right "
and " wrong." And it is true that God will reward and punish;
though it is not true that a calculation of reward and punish-
ment constitutes the whole notion of Duty.

Accordingly, faulty as is the basis of Paley's Moral Philo-
sophy, there is much to approve in the superstructure. On
points of detail, that is, he is generally correct, and often
highly instructive.

Some errors, however, there are in his practical rules. And
one of them I will notice, because I am not aware of any one's
having hitherto pointed it out. In enumerating the cases in
which promises are not binding, he speaks of its being quite
evident that a promise is not binding when the performance is
impossible. And yet daily experience shows that this rule does
not hold good, except when it is distinctly stated or fully under-

lect. iv.] DR. PALET'S WORKS. 107

stood by both parties, that the promise is to have this limita-
tion ; that is, where you prudently insert the condition of "if
possible," or " I will do my utmost." But without this, any
one who makes an engagement is supposed to have fully con-
sidered all possibilities ; and if he fails, from whatever cause,
he is held bound to make good the damage, or to suffer the
blame and penalty of non-fulfilment. If for instance, a mer-
chant or manufacturer contracts to deliver certain goods on
such a day, he is never allowed to plead that the non-arrival of
an expected ship, or a strike of his workmen, rendered the
fulfilment impossible. In fact no such pica is ever put in;
because it is known that it would not be listened to. Every
court of justice would sentence him to pay damages just the
same as if the failure had been caused by negligence. And if
the other party chuses, out of compassion for an unavoidable
and unexpected mischance, to forego the claim, this is a matter
of charity, but not a claim of right. If in short, you engage
merely to do what you can to effect a certain object, you are
bound to use your best endeavours, and you are not bound to
succeed, nor are liable to any blame for unavoidable failure.
But an unconditional promise claims an unconditional fulfil-
ment ; and if it is not fulfilled, the other party has a right to
complain, and may claim any compensation that can be ob-
tained.

Again, there is a most objectionable doctrine maintained
(which, however, was the prevailing one till of late years) m
the second volume, that on Political Philosophy. He teaches
that the direct encouragement of population is the " object
which in all countries ought to be aimed at, in preference to
every other political purpose whatever." And this is to be
done by inducing the mass of the people to content themselves
with the lowest description of food, clothing, and dwellings that
are compatible with a bare subsistence. The result is, such a
condition as that of the chief portion of the population in many
parts of India, and in some of the worst districts of Ireland a
few years ago. Indeed India and Ireland are the very countries

108 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.

Paley refers to with approbation. You have a swarming popu-
lation, very poor, debased, and leading a life approaching that
of savages. This is the state of things in ordinary seasons.
But when there comes a failure in the rice-crop or the potato-
crop, the people having nothing to fall back upon, perish by
myriads from famine and its attendant diseases.

It must be remembered, however, in Paley's favour, that
the above doctrine was nearly universal, up to the time when
Malthus wrote. And even now, persons may be found among
what are called " the educated classes," who decry that eminent
and most valuable writer. They do not indeed disprove his
facts, or answer his arguments. In truth, one might as well
talk of answering Euclid. But they misrepresent him ; which
is easily done to those who judge of a book merely from hearsay.
And they allude to him as an author long since so thoroughly
refuted and exploded as not to be worth notice : which is what
may easily be said, — though not always so easily proved, — of
anything whatever.

But Paley, as I have said, is only maintaining the errone-
ous notions, which, up to his time, had never received, as they
have since, a clear refutation.

One other portion of this work of Paley's I shall briefly
advert to, without entering on any discussion of the subject-
matter of it, but merely in confirmation of my remark in the
outset, that his Works are much more talked of than studied.

In chap, vi., Book V.,he treats of " Sabbatical institutions"
— the Jewish Sabbath, and the Lord's Day. And when (a good
many years after) the same doctrine, in substance, with his,
was put forth by another author, it was decried, not merely as
erroneous, but as an unheard-of novelty. Not merely many of
the illiterate, but several also who were supposed to be learned
Divines, spoke of it (and that in published works) as something
that had never before occurred to any christian writer. Now
it was indeed no novelty in Paley's time ; his view being what
was almost universal throughout Christendom for the first

lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. 109

fifteen centuries and more ; and had been set forth by Calvin
and others of the most eminent Reformers. But it is not
perhaps very strange that persons of no extensive reading,
should have been ignorant of ancient books, some of them in
Latin. But Paley's work had been for half a century a text-
book in a great university. And that any writer on these
subjects should either be himself ignorant of its contents, or
should calculate on that ignorance in his readers, is really
wonderful. As for the soundness or unsoundness of Paley's
doctrine, that is a question of opinion, and is one on which I
shall not now enter. But the existence of his opinions is a
matter of fact ; and is a fact of which one might have sup-
posed all readers to be aware. But its having been thus over-
looked, is a strong proof of what I remarked above, that an
author of great celebrity may be much talked of, and yet little
known.

I have thought it necessary to advert — not without re-
luctance— to this matter, because any such error, when detected
(as it is sure to be, sooner or later), leads to consequences
extending far beyond the immediate question it may happen to
relate to. When a religious teacher makes such a misstatement of
facts as proves him to be either grossly and culpably ignorant
of what he ought to have clearly ascertained, or else, guilty of
disingenuous suppression, all the rest of his teaching is likely
to be regarded with a distrust, which may be undeserved, but
which cannot be wondered at.

In the published Sermons of Paley, there is much that is
highly valuable and instructive, though in some parts, what he
maintains is exceptionable, and has incurred from some a very
severe censure; a censure which I cannot think wholly un-
deserved, though it is so in part. He does certainly too much
underrate the change requisite for every man in order to
become acceptable to the Most High ; a change, that is, of the
character of Man such as Man is by nature, and left to himself
without the aid of divine grace, into the character of those who

110 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iy.

are " led by the Spirit of God," as the Apostle says, to become
" sods of God." And I think that, in treating of this subject,
he was influenced for the worse by his theory of Morals. The
conscience (or Moral-faculty) is liable, when Man is left to
himself, to be perverted — to be debased — and to be deprived
of its rightful supremacy over the whole Man. It needs to be
elevated, to be corrected, and purified, and to be supported in
its legitimate sovereignty. But all this is likely to be over-
looked by one who, though himself, of course, possessing this
Moral-faculty (as we all do, more or less) and in some degree
unconsciously influenced by it, yet denies its existence, and
makes what is commonly called Duty to consist merely in a
calculation of loss and gain.

But, on the other hand, it is undeniable and is what ought
not to be lost sight of, that, as Paley remarks, the far greater
part of those whom the Apostles address were converts from
Paganism. Now Paganism was a religion which required (not
to be corrected, but) to be wholly eradicated. It was not, as
some are apt to suppose, merely an imperfect religion, with
a mixture of foolish superstitions ; but it was in fact the
worship of evil Demons; and a worship corresponding with their
character. " Every abomination unto the Lord which He
hateth " (as you read in the Books of Moses), el have these
nations done unto their gods ;" that is, the foulest wickedness
was not only tolerated and sanctioned by their religion, but
was, in many instances, a part of their religion. And such is
the case with the Hindu paganism at this day ; as we have
now, at least, good reason to know.

Aristotle, in his treatise on Politics, though he does not
venture to denounce altogether the religion of his countrymen,
yet expressly warns them not to. allow young persons to
approach the temples of those deities of whose appointed
worship the grossest profligacy formed an essential part ! Thus
religion, instead of rectifying or restraining men's natural evil
tendencies, was a direct source of corruption. And it may
well be supposed therefore that a large portion of Paul's

lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. Ill

converts were persons who had long been living a life of gross
profligacy. And as for the Jews, we find him declaring [Epis.
to the Romans] that while they prided themselves on their
observance of the ceremonial law, their immoral lives caused
the name of the Lord to be " blasphemed among the Gentiles."
Accordingly we find this Apostle alluding to the " former
conversation '' [mode of life] of his converts, " wherein in
times past they walked," as perfectly detestable. They had
been thoroughly alienated from the true God, not only in
practice but in principle. But no word answering to " con-
version " is ever employed by the Sacred Writers in reference
to a baptized Christian ; although they had occasion to rebuke
very severely some of their people (as you may see in the
1st Epistle to the Corinthians and elsewhere) for gross mis-
conduct.

As for those persons (of whom, unhappily, there are not
a few) who, having been born and bred in a christian country,
lead an unchristian life, they are doubtless under a far heavier
responsibility than Paul's hearers who had been brought up in
heathen darkness ; and the change needful for them is at least
as great, and perhaps more difficult, inasmuch as they have
wilfully shut their eyes to the light. But the " conversion " —
if that word must be used — which is needful for one who has
been brought up " in the nurture and admonition of the Lord,"
and from a child " has known the Holy Scriptures," and with
whom such an education has been blest with success, — this
must at least be something different from that of a heathen,
or of one who has hitherto led an utterly ungodly life. And
it would be perhaps all the better if different words were
employed to denote different things ; lest the notion should be
encouraged, which experience, as well as reason, shows there is
a danger of, — that every one must pass a certain portion of his
life in gross vice and irreligion, before he becomes a " converted
character1."

1 See Bishop Fitzgerald's Charge.

112 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.

The difference between the two cases maybe thus illustrated :
a skilful gardener, if he has to deal with a wilding tree which
" bears evil fruit," will (as their phrase is) head it down, and
graft it from a good fruit-tree; not however thenceforward
neglecting it, but watching that the wilding stock does not
push out shoots which would starve the graft. If again, he
has in his garden a young vine of a good sort, he will pursue
a different plan, though he will be far from neglecting the
plant. He will carefully prune it, from time to time, and
manure it, and fence it, and do his best to protect it from
blights and other injuries. Now both of these procedures may
be called " culture ;" but they are different kinds of culture ;
and it is best that they should be denoted by different words.

Something like this was probably Paley's meaning ; though
his view is partly incorrect, in consequence of his adopting
that theory of morals, which (as I have already observed) is
strenuously maintained by many persons of a theological school
the most opposite to his.

You will have observed that it is as a writer on the evidences
of natural and of revealed religion that I consider Paley to be
especially eminent. Though there is nothing of his that is not
well worth an attentive perusal, I would place Adam Smith's
Theory of Moral Sentiments and his Wealth of Nations, (though
not regarding either as infallibly right throughout,) higher than
Paley's works on the same subjects. And Butler's Moral Dis-
courses are more valuable still.

As a writer on evidences, I have spoken of Paley already.
But I cannot conclude without a few very brief remarks on the
subject of christian evidences itself.

There are some persons who from various causes, deprecate
this study altogether1 ; or at least would confine it to an ex-
ceedingly small number of learned men whose inclinations and
opportunities have led them to devote their lives to it. I have

See Cautions for the Times, No. XI. XII.

lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. 113

heard even men of good sense in other points, remark that to in-
vestigate all the reasons for and against the reception of Chris-
tianity would be more than the labour of a whole life ; and that
therefore all except perhaps some five or six out of every million,
had better not trouble themselves at all about the matter. It is
very strange that it should fail to occur to any man of good
sense, that it may be possible and easy, and in many cases, highly
desirable, to have sufficient reasons for believing what we do be-
lieve ; though these reasons may not be the twentieth part of
what might be adduced, if there were any need for it. Any
one of us, for instance, may be fully convinced, and on very
good grounds, that he was hi such and such places yesterday,
and saw such and such persons, and said and did so and so. But all
the evidence that might be collected, of all this — supposing, for in-
stance, that this was needful with a view to some trial that was
going on — would perhaps fill a volume. Suppose, for example,
you had to repel some charge by proving an alibi ; what a mul-
titude of circumstances, and what a crowd of witnesses, you
might bring forward to prove that you really were in such a
place at such a time.

In every case, except perhaps the one case of religion, every
one would perceive the absurdity of refusing to attend to any
reasons at all, because there might be a multitude of other
reasons also, which we had not the power, or the leisure, to inves-
tigate. And since therefore it has pleased the All-wise to create
Man a rational animal, and there is always some cause, though
often a very absurd one, for any one's believing or disbelieving
as he does, and since on all subjects men are often led to reject
valuable truths, and to assent to mischievous falsehoods, it is
surely an important part of education that men should be trained
in some degree to weigh evidence, and to distinguish good reasons
from sophistry, in any department of life, and not least in what
concerns religion.

But when the mass of the unlearned people (it has been
said) do believe in a true religion, no matter on what grounds
it is better to let them alone in their uninquiring faith, than to

W. E. I

114 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.

agitate and unsettle their minds by telling them about evidences.
They should be kept in ignorance, we are told, that the truth of
Christianity was ever doubted by any one ; that is, they must
be kept in ignorance not only of the world around them, but of
all books of history, including the Bible. It has even been publicly
maintained in a work which was the organ of a powerful and
numerous party in our Church, that an ignorant rustic who be-
lieves Christianity to be true, merely because he has been told
so by those he looks up to as his superiors, has a far better
ground for his belief than Paley or Grotius, or any such other
writer. Now this is the ground on which the ancient and the
modern Pagans, and the Mahometans, rest their absurd faith,
and reject the Gospel. The evidence therefore which has proved
satisfactory to the most enlightened Christians is, it seems, ab-
solutely inferior to that which is manifestly and notoriously good
for nothing !

Yet it is possible that some of those who speak thus may
really believe that Christianity itself can stand the test of evi-
dence ; but they wish that some other things should be believed,
which will not stand that test. They wish men to give credit to
some mediaeval legends of miracles, and unsupported traditions,
and new dogmas of human device ; and they would rather not
encourage them to cultivate the habit which the Apostle Peter
recommends, of being " ready to give a reason of their hope."
He who is trying to pass a large amount of coins, some good
and some counterfeit, will be alarmed at seeing you apply a
chemical test to the pure gold, lest you should proceed in the
same way with the rest.

Others, not belonging to the party just alluded to, have pub-
licly and very strongly proclaimed their conviction that any in-
quiry into the evidences of our religion is most likely to lead to
infidelity. (i Many thanks !" an infidel might reply, "for that
admission ! I want nothing more. That all inquiry, while it
will establish a belief in what is true, will overthrow belief in
Christianity or any other imposture, is just what I think. But

lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. 115

nothing coming from me could have near the force of such an
admission from you."

One is loth to attribute to writers who are professed advo-
cates of Christianity an insincere profession, and a disguised
hostility. And yet, supposing them sincere, the absurdity of
their procedure seems almost incredible. " Save me from my
friends," we may say, " and let my enemies do their worst."
Let one of these writers imagine himself tried in a court of jus-
tice, and his Counsel pleading for him in a similar manner :
" Gentlemen of the jury, my client is an innocent and a
worthy man, take my word for it : but I entreat you not to
examine any witnesses, or listen to any pleadings ; for the more
you inquire into the case, the more likely you will be to find
him guilty." Every one would say that this advocate was either
a madman, or else wilfully betraying his client1.

One other class of persons I shall briefly notice, in conclu-
sion, who take a different view, but I cannot think a right one,
of the study of christian evidences. They acknowledge its use
and necessity ; but they dislike and deplore that necessity.
They view the matter somewhat as any person of humane dis-
position does, the arming and training of soldiers ; acknow-
ledging, yet lamenting, the necessity of thus guarding against
insurrections at home, or attacks from foreign nations ; and
though, when forced into a war, he rejoices in meeting with
victory rather than defeat, he would much prefer peaceful
tranquillity. Even so, these persons admit that evidences are
necessary in order to repel unbelief; but all attention to the
subject is connected in their minds with the idea of doubt ;
which they feel to be painful, and dread as something sinful.

Far different however are men's feelings in reference to any
person or thing that they really do greatly value and admire,
when they have a full and firm conviction2. No one in ordi-
nary life considers it disagreeable to mark and dwell on the

See Note A, at the end of this Lecture. a Cautions for the Times.

i3

116 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.

constantly recurring proofs of the excellent and admirable
qualities of some highly valued friend — to observe how his
character stands in strong contrast to that of ordinary men ;
and that while experience is constantly stripping off the fair
outside from vain pretenders, and detecting the wrong motives
which adulterate the seeming virtue of others, his sterling
excellence is made more and more striking and conspicuous
every day : on the contrary, we feel that this is a delightful
exercise of the mind, and the more delightful the more we are
disposed to love and honour him. Yet all these are proofs, — or
what might be used as proofs, if needed, — of his really being of
such a character. But is the contemplation of such proofs
connected in our own mind with the idea of harassing doubt,
and anxious contest ? Should it not then be also delightful to
a sincere Christian to mark, in like manner, the proofs which if
he look for them, he will continually find recurring, that the
religion he professes came not from Man, but from God, — that
the Great Master whom he adores was indeed the " way, the
truth, and the life," — that " never man spake like this man ;"
— and that the Sacred Writers who record his teaching were
not mad enthusiasts, or crafty deceivers, but men who spoke in
sincerity the words of truth and soberness which they learned
from Him ? Should he not feel the liveliest pleasure in com-
paring his religion with those false creeds which have sprung
from human fraud and folly, and observing how striking is the
difference ?

And so also, in what is called natural theology — the proofs
of the wisdom, goodness and power of God — how delightful to a
pious mind is the contemplation of the evidence which it pre-
sents ! What pleasure to trace, as far as we can, the countless
instances of wise contrivance which surround us in the objects
of nature, — the great and the small — from the fibres of an
insect's wing, to the structure of the most gigantic animals —
from the minutest seed that vegetates, to the loftiest trees of
the forest — and to mark everywhere the work of that same
Creator's hand, who has filled the universe with the monuments

lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. 117

of his wisdom; so that we thus (as Paley has expressed it)
make the universe to become one vast Temple.

It is not for the refutation of objectors merely, and for the
conviction of doubters, that it is worth while to study in this
manner, with the aid of such a guide as Paley, the two volumes
— that of Nature and that of Revelation, — which Providence
has opened before us, but because it is both profitable and
gratifying to a well-constituted mind to trace in each of them
the evident handwriting of Him, the divine Author of both.

NOTE TO LECTURE IV.

NOTE A.

In confirmation of what has been said, I have thought it advisa-
ble to subjoin extracts (to which many more might have been added)
from writers of different schools, to show the coincidences between
an avowed Atheist and professed favourers of Christianity, of different
parties, and the contrast they all present to the New Testament
writers.

" Upon the whole, we may con-
clude that the christian Beligion not
only was at first attended with mira-
cles, hut even at this day cannot be
believed by any reasonable person
without one. Mere reason is insuf-
ficient to convince us of its veracity ;
and whoever is moved by Faith to
assent to it, is conscious of a con-
tinued miracle in his own person,
which subverts all the princijiles of
his understanding, aDd gives him a
determination to believe what is
most contrary to custom and expe-
rience."— Hume's Essay on Miracles
(at the end).

* * we are to be censured for
having " shifted the ground of our
belief from testimony to argument,
and from faith to reason." * * *

In answering the question why
our religion is to be believed, " the
poor, ignorant, uninstructed peasant
will probably come nearest to the
answer of the Gospel. He will say,
' Because I have been told so by
those who are wiser and better than
myself. My parents told me so, and
the clergyman of the parish told me
so ; and I hear the same whenever I
go to church. And I put confidence
in these persons, because it is natural
that I should trust my superiors.

I have never, had reason to suspect
that they would deceive me. I hear
of persons who contradict and abuse
them ; but they are not such persons
as I would wish to follow in any
other matter of life, and therefore
not in religion. I was born and bap-
tized in the church, and the Bible
tells me to stay in the church, and
obey its teachers ; and till I have
equal authority for believing that it
is not the church of Christ, as it is
the Church of England, I intend to
adhere to it.' Now, such reasoning
as this will appear to this rational
age very paltry and unsatisfactory :
and yet the logic is as sound as the
spirit is humble. And there is no-
thing to compare with it either in-
tellectually, or morally, or religiously,
in all the elaborate defences and evi-
dences which would be produced
from Paley, and Grotius, and Sumner,
and Chalmers." — British Critic.

" The sacred writers have none
of the timidity of their modern
apologists1. They never sue for an
assent to their doctrines, but authori-
tatively command the acceptance of
them. They denounce unbelief as
guilt, and insist on faith as a virtue
of the highest order. In their ca-
tholic invitations, the intellectual not

i See pp. 54-5.

NOTE 10 LECTURE IV.

119

less than the social distinctions of
mankind, are unheeded. Every stu-
dent of their writings is aware of
these facts, etc. * * * * They
jjresuppose that vigour of under-
standing may consist with feebleness
of reason ; and that the power of dis-
criminating between religious truth
and error does not depend chiefly on
the culture or on the exercise of the
mere argumentative faculty. The
special patrimony of the poor and
illiterate — the Gospel — has been the
stay of countless millions who never
framed a syllogism. Of the great
multitudes who, before and since the
birth of Grotius, have hived in the
peace and died in the consolations
of our Faith, how small is the pro-
portion of those whose convictions
have been derived from the study of
works like his. Of the numbers who
have addicted themselves to such
studies, how small is the proportion
of those who have brought to the
task either learning, or leisure, or
industry, sufficient, &c. * * * He
who lays the foundation of his faith
on such evidences will too com-

monly end either in yielding a
credulous and therefore an infirm
assent, or in reposing in a self-suf-
ficient and far more hazardous in-
credulity."— Edinburgh Review.

" This beginning of miracles did
Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and mani-
fested his glory, and his disciples
believed on Him."

" We know that thou art a teacher
sent from God; for no man can do
these miracles that thou dost except
God be with him."

" If I had not done among them
the works that none other man did,
they had not had sin."

" The works that I do in my
Father's name, they bear witness of
mo."

" Him God raised up, and showed
Him openly ; not to all the people,
but to witnesses chosen afore of God,
even to us," &e.

" To Him bear all the Prophets
witness."

" Be always ready to give to every
one that asketh you, a reason of the
hope that is in you," &c.

LECTURE V.

PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT.

It is not my design to treat of the wondrous antiquities of
Egypt ; its Hieroglyphics, its Temples, and its pyramids ; nor
shall I attempt any description of the extraordinary physical
features of the country; one portion of it an unreclaimable
desert, another — close bordering on that — of an admirable fer-
tility, almost rainless, but well watered by the Nile.

On these subjects many curious and interesting works have
been written, which will well repay perusal ; but I think it will
also be interesting, and not altogether unprofitable, to bring
before you a few brief notices of the political and social con-
dition of the country, its government, and the habits and
notions of the people. For, the Egyptian Pyramids do not
differ more from our buildings, or the ancient hieroglyphics from
our writing, than the Egyptian institutions, and customs, and
modes of thought, do from ours.

The particulars which I propose to lay before you are what
I have learned from some friends who have lately been residing
in Egypt. The great mass of the population of Egypt consists
of what are called Fellahin, which is the plural of Fellah. They
are Mahometans, and their language is Arabic ; but they are
believed by all the most competent judges to be a mixed race,
partly Arabs and partly Coptic, derived from intermarriages be-
tween Arabians and those Copts — the ancient possessors, as is
generally believed, of Egypt — who have embraced the Mussul-
man faith. There are also, on the borders of the desert, many
tribes of Bedouins, who are pure Arabs, and are described as

lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 121

differing considerably in features from the above. Then there
are Copts, though in no great numbers (about 217,000), who
have remained separate, and retain the profession of Christianity.
But the Coptic language, in which their Scriptures are written,
and their religious Service performed, is a dead language. There
are also in Egypt a few scattered Syrian and Greek Christians,
and a very small number of Armenians. The Jews are esti-
mated at about 5000, though some estimate them at nearly
twice that number; and the Turks, who hold almost all the
chief offices, and the greater part of the property, are supposed
not to exceed 10,000, out of a total population believed to be
about five millions. These speak the Turkish language; and
many of them know little or nothing of any other.

The Government, as has almost always been the case with
all Oriental nations, is purely monarchical. Egypt is reckoned
a portion of the Ottoman Empire, and is governed by a Viceroy.
But the Viceroy is something intermediate between an indepen-
dent sovereign and a provincial governor ; and the office is under-
stood to be hereditary. Tribute is paid to the Turkish Sultan,
and nominally allegiance to him is professed ; but the Viceroy,
though always a Turk by extraction, if not by birth, governs, in
most points, according to his own pleasure, and in some instances
has even waged war with the Sultan. Much mutual jealousy
almost always prevails ; the more, because the terms of the
connexion are undefined and uncertain, so that intrigues and
counter-manoeuvres are perpetually going on ; the one party
wishing to establish a more complete dependence, and the other
a more complete independence, of Egypt on Constantinople.
But as for any constitutional check on the Ruler's power, for
the protection of the subjects' liberty, that is a thing unknown
among Orientals.

An absolute monarchy, we, and the people of many other
European nations, would probably consider as, on the whole, a
bad institution. But there are several points in which the
expectations which many persons might be inclined to form
respecting such a government would be the reverse of the facts.

122 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.

They might expect it to possess — with all its evils — some advan-
tages which experience shows it does not possess.

For instance, it might naturally be expected that under a
despotism, the persons appointed to each office would be, if not
really the most fit, yet at least selected as being believed so : the
Sovereign having his choice unrestricted by considerations of
parliamentary influence, which, in a representative government,
often render necessary the advancement of those whom the
Sovereign does not really prefer. And again — an absolute
monarchy might — as some would suppose, visit with such sum-
mary and severe punishment (though sometimes, perhaps, over-
severe) any misconduct of officials, as most effectually to deter
from wrong-doing. No one, in short, would be able, it might
be thought, to purchase either undeserved promotion, or im-
punity for abuse of power, by his own or his family's popular
influence.

And this was the very argument urged (according to the
testimony of several independent witnesses) by a late eminent
European Autocrat, to justify his avowed and deep detestation
of a constitutional monarchy. A pure republic, it is said, or
an absolute king, he did not object to ; but a limited regal
government, with a popular representation, he considered as the
very hot-bed of such corruption as he boasted of being exempt
from.

But now, how stand the facts, as reported by all, without
exception, who have had opportunities of ascertaining them?
There is, in the very empire of that Autocrat, more corrupt
administration of justice, more peculation, more malversation of
every kind, among officials, going on every year, than among us
in half a century. And, by the testimony of all travellers,
there is in Egypt a still greater amount of all these abuses.

One of the appointments which the Sultan of Constantinople
retains in his own hands, is that of the chief Cadi (the head
magistrate) of the city of Cairo. It is notoriously sold to the
best bidder ; and that, from year to year — for he must be an-
nually confirmed in his post. And the Turk who has purchased

lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 123

it comes from Constantinople, quite ignorant, for the most part,
of the language of the people whose judge he is to be, and bent
on reimbursing himself as amply as possible for his outlay.

Now, let any one consider what would be our condition, if
our chief magistrates were sent from France or Spain, quite
ignorant of our language, having purchased their offices, and
possessing summary jurisdiction without the intervention of a

JUI7-

And the other Officials in Egypt seem, by all accounts, to

be intent only on squeezing as much profit as possible out of
those placed under them, without the slightest regard to justice
or to humanity. For nothing can be more erroneous than the
notion that a despot, though he may himself fleece and oppress
his people, will effectually prohibit others from doing so. On
the contrary, he is himself continually cheated by his subordi-
nates ; and they plunder and tyrannize over his people.

You are probably aware that it is on canals for carrying the
Nile- water for irrigation that the cultivation of Egypt almost
entirely depends. A traveller, who remarked the ill -cultivated
condition of a certain district, was informed, in reply to his in-
quiry, that this was from its canal not having been cleaned out
for several years. This operation is essential, because else the
bed soon becomes choked up with mud. The persons, it seems,
whose office it is to see that the canals are duly cleaned out,
receive a salary equal to about 50/. of our money. But they can
make 200/. or 300/. a-year by taking bribes to report work done
that has not been done. One inspector was said to have gained
two thousand dollars in one year for false reports.

It was proposed to an Egyptian Viceroy to substitute for
an immense number of wind-mills which grind corn for his army,
a steam-mill which would perform the work at half the cost.
But the proposal was not adopted, partly, it seems, because
there are about 500 persons employed about the mills, well paid,
and with little to do ; and partly because there are a few per-
sons of great influence to whom the existing system is advan-
tageous ; not more than three-quarters of the wheat that is sent

124 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [i.ect. v.

to the mills returning. Some part of the profit finds its way as
hush-money to the subordinate officers ; but the greater part to
those high in office.

Again, it being proposed to make a canal in a place where it
was much needed, a person in high office was sent to have the
ground inspected, and a report made of the cost. The engineer
whom he employed sent in an estimate of 40,000 labourers for
two months. But it so happened, in this case, that the scheme
of peculation which had been formed was defeated by the
inspection of another person in office (sent down on account of
suspicions which had arisen), who ascertained that about 6000
workmen could easily complete the work in a fortnight. The
engineer admitted this to him, but assured him that he had
been ordered to make the estimate he did, and that he thought
he might escape punishment for that falsification, while he was
quite certain that if he refused, his destruction was inevitable.
Of course the difference between the estimated and the real cost,
had been designed to go into the pocket of the Commissioner.

All who have the superintendence of public works are
authorised to press the Fellahs into the service, at a rate of
wages fixed for them, and of which the far greater portion is
paid them in kind ; that is, in food of the coarsest and worst
description ; and they are kept to work by overseers, literally
under the lash. But these are degrees of cruelty which are
generally disapproved by the greater part even of the Turkish
Officials. One of them was asked, on one occasion, by an-
other, who was on a visit to him, whether the report was
true which he had heard, of his employing a somewhat novel
mode of keeping his workmen in order, by putting them be-
tween two boards and sawing them asunder when they dis-
pleased him. He replied by owning that he had formerly
resorted to that mode, but that he had discontinued it, from
finding that it " did not answer." The other observed to my
informant that he could not have partaken of the man's coffee
if he had been pursuing such a course ; but that as it seemed
he had left it off, he had not scrupled to drink coffee with him.

lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 125

As for public spirit, it is a thing which, under a despotism,
is so little looked for, or believed in, that a man who evinces
any, is likely to be at once suspected of some secret sinister
design. For instance, a person in office, who was desirous of
improving the sanitary condition of the people, and who was
inclined to attribute much of the prevailing mortality to the
over-crowded state of the villages, applied to have a return
made out of the area and the population of each village. He
was immediately dismissed from the then Viceroy's service. It
was supposed impossible he could make such inquiries but
from some secret evil design of his own.

It might be supposed, however, by some, that, though a
despot is not always well served, such a government as that of
Egypt would at least have the advantage of complete and
prompt obedience from the subjects, though its commands might
sometimes be harsh ; and that there would be nothing corre-
sponding to that evasion or defiance of law, which sometimes
occurs in free countries.

But here again the fact is at variance with such an expecta-
tion. Those brought up under an arbitrary government, and
accustomed to consider that, even with the most blameless con-
duct, they have no security for their persons or property, — such
men are found (1) to regard the government as their natural
enemy, which it is right and advisable always to defeat or
escape from, when possible; and (2) to become reckless of the
future ; — a future which admits of no certain calculation. And
they thence eagerly seize on any immediate advantage, and
take their chance for what may follow.

One instance, may serve as a specimen of this. A person
employed by the Viceroy to construct some docks, told my
informant the following anecdote : —

" When I was making those docks, I found the expense of
obtaining Puzzuoli -cement from Italy, considerable. A sample
of clay fit for the purpose was brought to me, and I ascertained
that it was to be found at Goures (a village on the Nile). I
went thither, sent for the chief man [or Sheich] and told him

126 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.

that I understood that there was in the lands of his village the
clay of which I showed him a specimen. His countenance fell,
and he assured me that the whole bed had been worked out.
I walked over the village, and soon found that the stratum,
instead of being exhausted, was, in fact, almost inexhaustible.
Half the land belonging to the village consisted of it. There-
upon I ordered him to provide within a fixed time a certain
number of bricks. As soon as I heard that they were ready I
went to look at them, but found them unburnt.

" ' We cannot,' said the Sheich, ' burn bricks in this village
except when the Nile is at its lowest. At present it fills our
kilns. Wc are forced to send our clay to Upper Egypt, if it is
to be burnt.' I looked at his kilns, and, in fact, they were full
of water. But as they stood many feet above the level of the
Nile, and the Nile was then increasing, it was obvious that the
water had been deposited not by the Nile, but by the villagers.
It was just the trick of an Egyptian ; capable of deceiving a
Turk, but no one else. ' You rascal,' I said, ' the governor of
the province comes here this evening, and five minutes after
you will be hanged before your own door.' These people have
no pity themselves, and never believe that they shall be treated
with pity. He fully expected to be hanged ; he tore his haich,
he covered himself with sand, he threw himself on the ground,
he kissed my shoe, and the skirt of my coat ; and when I seized
him to raise him up, his hand was icy. I gave him hopes of
forgiveness if the bricks were duly burnt. The next day, as I
returned from looking at the preparations for heating the kilns,
I found my boats full of sheep and calves and fowls. ' They
are a present,' said my servant, ' from the Sheich.' He had
recourse to the argument which he thought most likely to
soften me ; and it was with great difficulty that I made him
understand that they must be taken back."

" "Were the villagers paid for their work ?" I asked.

" They were supposed to be paid," he answered, but the
appointed scale was low, and a great part — perhaps the whole
of what they were entitled to — was intercepted in its progress.

lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 127

The treatment of the Israelites in the time of Moses is a fair
specimen of the administration which now prevails in Egypt,
and probably has prevailed for the last 5000 years. Want of
straw, or even want of clay would no more be admitted as an
excuse by the officers of the Pasha than it was by the officers of
Pharaoh. " Ye are idle, ye are idle," would be the answer.

One advantage, however, that of security, many would ex-
pect to find in a despotic government. In a free country those
who are disaffected to the government may be carrying on plots
that are strongly suspected, or even sufficiently known, to leave
no moral doubt on any one's mind, yet of which no legal proof
can be obtained. Or they may keep within the letter of the
law in proceedings quite contrary to the spirit of it ; and if a
new Act of Parliament be passed to meet the case, they may
find some new evasion of the new enactment. In an absolute
monarchy, on the contrary, the least suspicion of any design
against the ruler's person or power is visited with summary
vengeance. And though the innocent are likely often to suffer
with the guilty, it might be supposed that the guilty would
have no chance of escape, and that all plots would be nipped in
the bud. But the fact is otherwise ; and it confirms the Latin
proverb, that " He who is feared by many must live in fear of
many." ( Necesse est multos timeat, quern multi timent.)

A late Viceroy of Egypt having been found dead in his bed,
it was certified by the surgeons appointed to examine the body,
that he had died of apoplexy. They are believed to have re-
ceived instructions to that effect from persons whom they dared
not disobey. But few have any doubt that he was smothered
by some of his domestics. Two men are pointed out, and well
known as the perpetrators — or among the perpetrators — of the
deed. But they enjoy perfect impunity, inasmuch as it had
been officially and publicly stated that the death was natural.
Some believe that only those two persons were concerned ; others
say five. And while some attribute the act to threats which
the Viceroy had uttered against these men, others think that
the assassination was planned by some members of his own

128 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.

family. But amidst all these conflicting opinions, all except a
very few, agree that assassination did take place.

This man, however, it must be owned, was far beyond the
average in point of tyranny. It is reported, that when some of
the many palaces he built (for that was his passion) shall be
pulled down, there will be fearful revelations made ; for he is
commonly believed to have been in the habit of ordering a man
to be built up within a wall. And it is certain that on one
occasion he sewed up with his own hands the mouth of one of
the women of his harem, and so left her to die of hunger, for
having transgressed an order of his against smoking. He
spoke of it himself to the person who told my informant, and
who had remarked on his fingers being bloody. It is remark-
able, however, that the representations, current in Europe of
this monster, were far less unfavourable than what are circu-
lated respecting his successor ; a Viceroy about whom there are
indeed great differences of opinion, but who is allowed by all to
be at least better than the other. The supposed reason of this
is, that the one paid, and the other refused to pay, a large
stipend to the correspondent of an influential English news-
paper. If the editor of a journal be himself inaccessible to
bribes, it does not follow that all his foreign agents will .be so.

But despots who govern with much less cruelty than the
man just mentioned, yet generally govern so as to make their
overthrow desirable to a large portion of their subjects. Tax-
payers who had not ready money to pay their taxes, but only
produce, paid their taxes in kind (and some, I believe, were
compelled to pay in kind rather than in money), at a rate fixed
by the collector, who valued their corn or other produce at about
one-half of the market-price. And public creditors, many of
them persons whose land had been taken from them with the
promise of an annual payment in lieu of it, were paid the same
number of piastres as had been originally fixed, the piastre
meantime having been reduced to less than a quarter of its
proper value — from about tenpence English, to about nine
farthincrs.

lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 129

The pressing of soldiers, also, is a dreadful hardship to
many of the peasants, who have families dependent on their
labour for support. My informant one day, seeing a poor
woman sobbing bitterly, inquired of her the cause of her grief.
She was a widow, with one daughter and one son. On his
labour they had subsisted, and he being just carried off to the
army, she and her daughter, she said, must starve. When my
friend soon after met with a troop of recruits marching to the
depot, he did not wonder to see them chained two and two.

Now, people who are thus governed are apt to think (though
often very erroneously) that any change is likely to be for the
better.

But whatever may be the condition of the subjects of an
absolute monarchy, the Royal family — all its members — many
would suppose to be kept in the enjoyment of everything that
the present life can bestow. On the contrary, their lives are
not safe from one another, and their domestic happiness is
cruelly sacrificed. This arises in great measure from the
Turkish law of succession, which makes the crown descend, not
to the son necessarily of the last sovereign, but to the eldest
male of the family ; often, therefore, to a brother or a nephew,
if there be any older than the Sultan's or Viceroy's son.
Hence the well-known practice among the Turkish rulers of
cutting off their brothers ; and the total amount of royal infan-
ticide that goes on is what sounds to European ears almost
incredible. But it is well known that a brother or younger son
of a Turkish sovereign is to have no children. A daughter,
indeed, or sister of the sovereign may rear femcde children, but
males must be cut off as soon as born. No issue whatever,
male or female, is allowed to the brother or younger son. The
unnatural law of succession is thus eluded by unnatural ex-
pedients.

And of the children of the sovereign himself — often very
numerous — not above one in ten, scarcely, perhaps, one in
twenty, are reared. They are entrusted from infancy to the
care — if such a word as care can be so applied — of persons,

W. E. K

130 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.

many of whom either wish them to die, or do not care for
them; and they often fall a sacrifice to wilful neglect.

With such a low tone of morality, and so little regard for
human life, and without any such reference to puhlic opinion as
exists among us, it may easily be understood how unsafe must
be the lives of persons of high family or station, and those
connected with them. Well authenticated instances indeed of
persons who have been secretly made away with, it is, of course,
difficult to produce, on account of that very state of things
which renders such occurrences probable. It is likely that
many cases of this kind which are reported are not true, and
that very many more have occurred which were hardly at all
suspected. Poison, there is no doubt, is not unfrequently
resorted to. " One instance I " (said a friend of mine) " know
of, in which there is every reason to believe poison to have been
administered to a European, who narrowly escaped with life."

The expression is not uncommon of a person's having el ta-
ken a cup of coffee too much." On every occasion of a visit,
coffee is presented, which it would be reckoned uncivil to re-
fuse ; and this affords a most favourable occasion for poisoning.

The carelessness about human life and human happiness or
suffering which I have just adverted to, is one of the most
curious characteristics of Oriental character, especially when
contrasted with their scrupulous tenderness towards the brute
creation, Bacon, in his Essay on Goodness [what in modern
language is called "benevolence"], remarks that it is so essen-
tial a part of Man, that when not exercised towards his fellow-
men, it finds, as it were, a kind of vent towards other animals.
" The Turks," says he, "are a cruel people, but yet they are
kind to beasts." Two centuries and a half after Bacon's time,
this is the statement given to my friend by a resident in Cairo.
" The remark that Orientals are not to be judged according to
European notions, is so obvious that it has become trite ; but
on no point is the difference between the two minds more
striking than in the respect for life.

" The European cares nothing for brute-life. He destroys

lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 131

the lower animals without scruple whenever it suits his con-
venience, his pleasure, or his caprice. The Mussulman pre-
serves the lives of the lower animals solicitously. I say the
lives; for they do sometimes ill-use their beasts of burden,
though they scruple to kill, except for food or in self-defence.
Though the Mussulman considers the dog impure, and never
makes a friend of him, he thinks it sinful to kill him, and
allows the neighbourhood, and even the streets, of his towns, to
be infested by packs of masterless brutes which you would get
rid of in London in one day. The beggar does not venture to
destroy his vermim ; he puts them tenderly on the ground, to
be caught up into the clothes of the next passer-by. There are
hospitals at Cairo for superannuated cats, where they are fed at
the public expense.

" But to human life he is utterly indifferent. He extinguishes
it with much less scruple than that with which you shoot a
horse past his work. Abbas, the last Viceroy, when a boy, had
his pastrycook bastinadoed to death. Mohammed Ali mildly
reproved him for it, as you would correct a child for killing a
butterfly. He explained to his little grandson that such things
ought not to be done without a motive.'.'

The slight sketch I have given of an Oriental system of
government may perhaps have caused you to doubt how far the
poet's assertion is borne out, who says —

" Of all the various ills that men endure
How small the part that kings can cause or cure."

But it would be most unfair to attribute to misgovernment all
— or all the most important — of the evils that are to be found
in Egypt and in other Eastern countries. A large portion is
the result of the gross ignorance and strange superstitions of the
people ; and how far — or whether at all — the Government is
responsible for that ignorance and ill-education, it would not be
easy to decide.

One of the most noxious of their superstitions (as far as

k3

132 PRESENT STATE OF EttYPT. [lect. v.

regards temporal well-being) is their dread of the evil eye. The
notion is very widely spread in the East, and very ancient; so
as to have given a tinge to popular language. For though
there is a Greek word answering to our word " envy," the
New Testament writers generally use the expression of " evil
eye ;" as for instance, " Is thine eye evil because I am good ? "
«'.<?., " Art thou envious because I am bountiful ?"

Bacon, in his Essay on Envy, speaks of the notion as
prevalent among ourselves in his time, and as one to which he
did not altogether himself refuse credence.

'* There be none of the affections," he says, " which have
been noted to fascinate or bewitch, but love and envy: they
both have vehement wishes ; they frame themselves readily into
imaginations and suggestions ; and they come easily into the
eye, especially upon the presence of the objects ; which are the
points that conduce to fascination, if any such thing there be.
We see likewise, the Scripture calleth envy an evil eye ; and
the astrologers call the evil influences of the stars evil aspects ;
so that still there seemeth to be acknowledged in the act of
envy an ejaculation or irradiation of the eye. Nay, some have
been so curious as to note that the times when the stroke or
percussion of an evil eye doth most hurt, are when the party
envied is beheld in glory or triumph ; for that sets an edge
upon envy ; and besides, at such times the spirits of the persons
envied do come forth most into the outward parts and so meet
the blow." Bacon might have added that the very word
" invidere," from which our word " envy" is derived, signifies
originally, casting a hostile look on some one.

" I once in Cairo," said my friend, " conversed on this

superstition with an intelligent Cairan, who described it as the

great curse of his country.

" Does the mischievous influence of the evil eye," he was

asked, " depend on the will of the person whose glance does the

mischief?"

" Not altogether," he answered : " an intention to harm may

render more virulent the poison of the glance ; but envy, or the

lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 133

desire to appropriate a thing, or even excessive admiration, may
render it hurtful, without the consciousness, or even against the
will, of the offender. It injures most the thing that it first hits.
Hence the bits of red cloth that are stuck about the dresses of
women, and about the trappings of camels and horses, and the
large spots of lampblack on the foreheads of children. They are
a sort of conductors. It is hoped that they will attract the
glance, and exhaust its venom." A fine house, fine furniture, a
fine camel, and fine horse, are all enjoyed with fear and trem-
bling, lest tbey should excite envy and bring misfortune. A
butcher would be afraid to expose fine meat, lest the evil eye of
passers-by, who might covet it, should taint it, or make it spoil,
or become unwholesome.

Children are supposed to be peculiarly the objects of desire
and admiration. When they are suffered to go abroad, they are
intentionally dirty and ill-dressed, but generally they are kept at
home, without air or exercise, but safe from admiration. This
occasions a remarkable difference between the infant mortality in
Europe and in Egypt. In Europe, it is the children of the rich
that live ; in Egypt, it is the children of the poor. The children
of the poor cannot be confined. They live in the fields. As
soon as you quit the city, you see in every clover-field a group,
of which the centre is a tethered buffalo, and round it are the
children of its owner, with their provision of bread and water,
sent thither at sunrise, and to remain there till sunset, basking
in the sun, and breathing the air from the desert. The Fellah
children enter their hovels only to sleep ; and that, only in the
winter. In summer, the days and nights are passed in the open
air ; and notwithstanding their dirt and their bad food, they grow
up healthy and vigorous, except when suffering from ophthalmia,
as numbers do. The children of the rich, confined by fear of the
evil eye, to the harem, are puny creatures, of whom not a fourth
part reaches adolescence. Achmet Pasha Jahir, one of the
governors of Cairo under Mohammed Ali, had two hundred and
eighty children ; only six survived him. Mohammed Ali himself
had eighty-seven ; only ten were living at his death. " I believe,"

134 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.

he added, " that at the bottom of this superstition is an enor-
mous prevalence of envy among the lower Egyptians. You see
it in all their fictions. Half of the stories told in the coffee-
shops by the professional story-tellers, of which the Arabian
Nights are a specimen, turn on malevolence — malevolence, not
attributed, as it would be in European fiction, to some insult or
injury, inflicted by the person who is its object, but to mere
envy ; envy of wealth, or of the other means of enjoyment,
honourably acquired and liberally used."

I ought not to omit mentioning, while on this subject, that a
little son of the present Viceroy is placed under the care of an
English nurse, with the express stipulation that she is to have
the uncontrolled management of him. Accordingly, he is kept
clean and well clad, and runs about in the open air, in defiance
of the " evil eye," to the great astonishment of every one.

This superstition appears to prevail equally among the Ma-
hometans and the Christians. But each class have also some
of their own.

The Coptic Patriarch, in a conversation at which my in-
formant was present, complained that his people who were
pressed for recruits to the army, were often compelled by their
comrades to become Mussulmans against their will, by forcing
flesh-meat down their throats on a fast- day. They believed, he
said, that this compulsory defilement cut them off finally from
the christian Church ; and that they might as well become
Mussulmans at once. Why does not your Holiness, it was asked,
grant a dispensation for such cases ? He answered that he
did ; but that his people often refused to avail themselves of
it. And he mentioned an instance of a sick woman whom the
physicians had ordered to take nourishing food, as essential to
her recovery. The Patriarch permitted and enjoined her to do
so ; but she persisted in fasting, and died.

It is curious to observe the coincidence between the supersti-
tion of these poor people and that of the Hindus, who believe
that a man who has a piece of beef forced down his throat, or
who is tricked into tasting it, loses caste irretrievably. And the

lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OP EGYPT. 135

Indian mutineers sedulously spread the false report that the
British had a design thus to deprive them of their religion with-
out their own consent. It does not appear that they had any
dread of the missionaries ; because every one is at liberty to
listen to them or not, at his own choice. But it certainly would
be possible for a Government — though no British Government
would ever have such a thought — to make Hindus lose caste (as
Tippoo Sahib is said to have done in some instances), without
their own consent. That a similar notion should prevail among
any denomination of Christians with regard to their religion, is
what few would have anticipated. If those poor people had
been rightly instructed from their childhood, they would have
learned, that, though compliance, when practicable, with the rules
of their Church in matters originally indifferent, is a duty, " the
kingdom of heaven," as Paul tells the Romans, "is not meat
and drink but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy
Ghost."

But the Coptic, in which the Scriptu/es are read to the
people is, as I have already mentioned, a dead language, under-
stood by few, if any, of the laity, and very imperfectly, it is said,
by many of the clergy.

Among the Mussulmans, one of the most hurtful supersti-
tions is the Mahometan doctrine of fatalism. I say the "Ma-
hometan doctrine," because this differs from the complete,
consistent fatalism which teaches that all things are alike fated,
the means as well as the ends, and which, therefore, does
not necessarily exercise any influence on the conduct. It is told
of the famous Roman stoic, Cato, that one of his slaves, who
was about to be punished for stealing, endeavoured to shelter
himself under the stoical doctrine of fatalism, saying that he
was fated to be a thief; li and to be flogged," replied his mas-
ter. One who believes that the husbandman who is fated to
reap must have been fated to soiu, and that he whose destiny is
to be idle is destined to starve ; who holds that if he is predes-
tined to commit a murder, he is fated to be hanged for it ; such a
one may be in his conduct uninfluenced by his speculative belief.

136 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.

But Mahomet taught a fatalism independent of human actions.
Those who have fallen in a certain battle, the Mussulman does
not describe as predestined to go to the battle ; but hold that
if they had stayed at home, they would have dropped down dead
at the very same time.

Now it is true indeed that this doctrine is one which no one
does, or can, carry out in practice thoroughly and constantly.
No one doing so could live a week ; for he would not move out
of the way of an advancing carriage, or sea- tide, but would say,
if I am destined to be crushed or drowned, nothing can save
me ; and if I am fated to escape, nothing can destroy me. But
though no one constantly acts on such a principle, many of the
Mussulmans do act on it very frequently, when it affords a plea
for their habitual indolence and carelessness, or for following any
inclination. It is well known how difficult it is to induce them
to take the most obvious precautions against infectious diseases
and epidemics. And, it was remarked to my informant, in re-
ference to the capture of the important town of Kars, which
might easily have been saved if prompt supplies had been sent
to it, that the Mussulman plea for the gross neglect shown,
probably was, " if Allah wills that Kars shall be taken, nothing
we can do will save it, and if it is his decree that it shall stand,
it will stand without our exertions." And he added instances
of persons who when a crime was proved against them, calmly
replied that it was the "' will of Allah."

A population, such as that of Egypt at the present day,
sunk in the ignorance and superstitions that prevail, could not
be at once raised into civilization and prosperity, even by the
most just and benevolent and enlightened government.

But there is some hope that increased intercourse with
Europeans, caused by the transit line to India, may in time
benefit both the rulers and the people, and gradually cause some
rays of light to penetrate the gloom, and to dispel some of the
intellectual and moral darkness — even "a darkness that maybe

lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 137

felt" — which overspreads the land, like that literal darkness in
the days of Moses.

And no doubt such an effect would be produced in no long
time, and indeed would have been perceptibly produced before
now, if the Europeans in Egypt were much more like what
Christians ought to be, than, unhappily a large portion of them
are. Their vices, and their manifest carelessness about their
own religion, constitute one of the greatest hindrances to the
improvement of Egypt. Of all the European Christians resident
in that country, the Italians, and still more, the Greeks, are said
to bear the worst character. But I grieve to say that not a few
of our own countrymen have a heavy share in this awful respon-
sibility. And far worse is the professed Christian who, either in
Egypt, or here, is leading an unchristian life — far worse, both in
himself, and in the effects of his example on others, than the
unenlightened Egyptian or Turk. Worse in himself, because he
has had, and has abused greater advantages ; and " of him to
whom much is given, much will be required ;" and more hurtful
to others, because it is Gospel truth that his conduct tends to
bring into disrepute ; even as Paul, in the Epistle to the Romans,
reproaches some of his countrymen with causing " the name of
God to be blasphemed among the Gentiles."

One important advantage to ourselves may be derived, I
think, from the contemplation — painful as it is to a generous
mind — of such a government as that of Egypt and some other
countries. It may lead us to prize as we ought, with contented
thankfulness, the blessings of our own Constitution. By " con-
tent," I do not mean that we should abstain from seeking by
legitimate means a remedy for any defects we may observe, and
should aim at no improvements in any department of Government.
Indeed, it is one of our chief blessings, and the glory of our
constitution, that legitimate means are within our reach ; that
the nation can make known its complaints, or wants or wishes,
in a better mode than by insurrection or assassination. But I
mean that we should not murmur at not having reached a

138 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.

perfection beyond what can reasonably be looked for in any
human institution ; that we should not complain of imaginary
grievances, nor exaggerate real ones ; nor seek to subvert all
that is established, because we do not find the earth converted
into a Paradise.

If, on the one hand, our Government, with all its faults
either in theory, or in the administration of it, be, as some are
disposed to think, the best on the whole, or one of the best, that
exists, or ever did exist, that is no reason why we should not
seek by lawful means to render it still better. And, on the other
hand, its falling short of complete perfection, is no reason why
we should ungratefully shut our eyes to the benefits we do pos-
sess, and which so many other nations want. To regard indeed
with proud and exulting scorn, and hard-hearted self-congratula-
tion, the inferiority, the defects, and the misfortunes of others,
this would, no doubt, be most ungenerous. But to dwell with
eagerness, with triumphant invective, and with scornful and
light-hearted ridicule, on the defects, real or fictitious, of our own
constitution, this shows (to say the least) a very unamiable levity
of character, and tends to no good result.

I am alluding particularly to the tendency of some modern
writers, such as are noticed in an able article in the Edinburgh
Review ; writers who, with much wit and power of description,
find amusement for themselves and their readers in the keen
pursuit and exposure of everything faulty, or which can be
represented as faulty, in every portion of our whole system ;
exaggerating with eager delight every evil they can find, and
fixing on it like a raven pouncing on a piece of carrion ; invent-
ing such as do not exist, and keeping out of sight whatever is
well done and unexceptionable.

The general drift of such publications is to lead to the con-
clusion, that with all our boasted institutions and precautions, we
are the worst governed people upon earth ; that all our preten-
sions to justice or wisdom are a mere delusion ; and that our
Law-courts, and Parliaments, and Public Offices of every descrip-

lect. v.J PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 139

tion, are merely a cumbrous machinery for deceiving, and plun-
dering, and oppressing the people.

I am not speaking now of an occasional bitter sarcasm such
as may be allowably thrown out in the course of an argumenta-
tive work (designed to call serious attention to some particular
abuse, or imminent danger), but of what are avowedly works of
amusement, and the main staple of which is to hold up all our
institutions to ridicule mixed with abhorrence, in a sort of moral
pillory.

If a work of this character were put in the way of an Orien-
tal despot (and, for aught I know, this may have actually been
done), he would be not unlikely to say — " Since it appears, by
your own showing, that, with all the troublesome machinery of
judges and juries, Lords and Commons, long pleadings, and long
debates, you are utterly misgoverned, and all your public men,
appointed with so many forms and so much care, are continually
contriving how to repress merit, and to leave business undone,
your best course will be to sweep away all these things as useless
incumbrances, and establish an absolute monarchy like mine.
With less trouble, matters miyht go on better, and evidently
could not, by your own account, go on worse." And he might
add — " One advantage you would certainly gain at once ; such a
writer as this I have been now reading, if he should presume to
write in a similar tone about the new Government, would at
once lose his head." For, during a late Viceroyalty of Egypt,
several headless trunks were at one time exhibited in Cairo ;
each with a label on his breast, declaring that they had made too
free use of their tongues. It had been strictly forbidden to talk
about the war then going on in Syria ; and these men had been
guilty of telling or of asking news.

Much greater licence is used in this country, wretchedly
enslaved as it is represented to be. The writers I have alluded
to give us to understand that the business of the country is done
very slowly and very ill ; that inventors and projectors of im-
provements are always treated with insolent neglect ; that the

140 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [TiEcT. v.

Government is conducted by, and for, a few aristocratic families,
whose whole public life is a constant career of personal jobs; and
that judges, ministers of state, and all other officials, are in a
conspiracy to defeat justice, and to shelter cruel oppressors.
These are rather serious charges, which are much less true
in this country, where they are freely circulated, than in
several other countries where — because they are true, it would
not be safe to publish them.

But these writers, many will say, and doubtless with truth,
do not mean all, or half, of what they set forth. They only dress
up their tales with exaggeration, to give them a piquancy for the
entertain merit of their readers ; they heighten their descriptions
to display their eloquence, either in the tragic or the comic vein.
It is " the fool," according to Solomon, that " scattereth fire-
brands, arrows, and death, and saith, am I not in sport?"

The direct and immediate tendency of such representations
is towards revolution — such a revolution as is aimed at by
that small number of persons who call themselves Chartists, or
Christian Socialists. But it is probable that though such be the
direct tendency of their representations, the practical effect on
the minds of the greater part of the Public, is to render them
incredulous as to real and remediable defects, and indifferent
about really needful reforms. They understand that these
over-wrought representations are merely for dramatic effect —
that the whole is but a joke — a piece of waggery designed for
present entertainment, and that there is nothing in the whole
subject calling for any serious attention ; but that when we
have closed the book, we have only to awake as it were from a
lively dream, and go about our business with a happy conviction
that the whole is unreal.

To one of these writers it would be a fair retribution, and
might supply a useful lesson, that he should be visited, himself,
with a horrible dream. I would wish him to dream that he was
a peasant under an Oriental despotism. Let him dream that he
was taxed at the arbitrary will of the sovereign, and that he had

lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 141

to pay his taxes in kind, his produce being valued at about half
the market price. Let him next dream that a great part of his
land was taken from him, he receiving in return a rent of so
many piastres ; and the piastre being afterwards reduced to one-
fourth of its original value, the nominal payment remaining the
same. Let him dream that he was pressed to labour, under the
lash, on some public work, at low wages, of which four-fifths
■were paid in food, consisting of hard, sour biscuit. Next, let
him dream, that having been robbed or defrauded by a Turk,
and going to a magistrate for redress, whom he was obliged to
bribe to hear his cause, he found that, after all, his opponent
had bribed higher ; and that besides losing his cause, he was bas-
tinadoed till he had confessed that he had brought a false
charge. Then let him dream that he saw his grown-up son, on
whom he had relied for the future support of the family, dragged
off in chains as a conscript soldier. And lastly, let him dream
that this son having deserted, and been concealed by him, both
received sentence of death. On awaking, he would be inclined
to doubt whether ours really is the worst possible govern-
ment.

And as for those who, in Ireland, post up placards, de-
nouncing as oppressive and persecuting every Government that
does not allow them to oppress and persecute others, and calling
on all Irishmen to follow the example of the brave Sepoys —
those brave Sepoys who show their valour by torturing and mur-
dering helpless women and children, but in the battle-field are
always routed by a fourth part of their number of our gallant
countrymen — as for those who exhort Irishmen to follow that
example, by slaughtering man, woman, and child of the Saxon
race, I would wish one of them to dream that he was under the
rule of a Hindu Prince, to whom he had submitted on a promise
of safety and protection, and who proceeded to fulfil his promise
in Oriental style, by wreaking his vengeance on him for being,
though not a Saxon, at least an European, and Cmost unfairly)
for being a Christian ; unfairly, I say, since in everything but

142 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [LECT. v.

the name, he is most emphatically im-Christian. Let him
dream that he sees his wife and daughters outraged, mutilated,
and tortured to death, and his infants dashed on the pavement,
while he himself is being gradually and slowly hacked to pieces
"by ferocious barbarians, one degree, though only one degree,
less detestable than himself, inasmuch as they were brought up
heathens, and do not call themselves Christians.

And when he awoke, he would probably exclaim with joy,
" Thank God, it was but a dream ! Thank God, I am under a
British sovereign ! "

LECTURE VL

BACON'S ESSAYS.

To treat of the works of Bacon generally, would require, —
if it were not to be done in a meagre and unsatisfactory man-
ner,— not one lecture, but a course of lectures, of no inconsider-
able length. And even of his volume of Essays alone, to say
all that would be pertinent and interesting concerning such a
vast variety of subjects, and his mode of treating of them, would
far exceed my present limits.

I propose, therefore, merely to lay before you a few remarks
on that work generally, and on a few of the Essays in particular,
taken as specimens.

Perhaps it may be thought by some to be a superfluous task
to say anything at all concerning a work which has been in
most people's hands for about two centuries and a-half ; and has,
in that time, rather gained than lost in popularity. But there
are some qualities in Bacon's writings to which it is important
to direct, from time to time, especial attention, on account of a
tendency often showing itself, and not least at the present day,
to regard with excessive admiration writers of a completely op-
posite character; — those of a mystical, dim, half-intelligible
kind of affected grandeur.

It is well known what a reproach to our climate is the pre-
valence of fogs, and how much more of risk and of inconveni-
ence results from that mixture of light and obscurity than from
the darkness of night ; but let any one imagine to himself, if he
can, a mist so resplendent with gay prismatic colours, that men
should forget its inconveniences in their admiration of its beauty,
and that a kind of nebular taste should prevail, for preferring

144 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.

that gorgeous dimness to vulgar daylight ; nothing short of this
could afford a parallel to the mischief done to the public mind
by some late writers both in England and America;— a sort of
" Children of the Mist," who bring forward their speculations,
— often very silly, and not seldom very mischievous, — under
cover of the twilight. They have accustomed their disciples to
admire as a style sublimely philosophical what may best be de-
scribed as a certain haze of words imperfectly understood,
through which some seemingly original ideas, scarcely dis-
tinguishable in their outlines, loom, as it were, on the view, in a
kind of dusky magnificence, that greatly exaggerates their real
dimensions.

In the October number of the Edinburgh Review (p. 513),
the reviewer, though evidently disposed to regard with some
favour a style of dim and mystical sublimity, remarks, that " a
strange notion, which many have adopted of late years, is, that
a poem cannot be profound unless it is, in whole or in part,
obscure; the people like their prophets to foam and speak
riddles."

But the reviewer need not have confined his remark to
poetry ; a similar taste prevails in reference to prose writers
also. " I have ventured," says the late Bishop Copleston, in
a letter published in the memoir of him by his nephew, " to
give the whole class the appellation of the ' magic-Ian thorn
school,' for their writings have the startling effect of that toy ;
children delight in it, and grown people soon get tired of it."

One may often hear some writers of the magic-lanthorn
school spoken of as possessing wonderful power, even by those
who regret that this power is not better employed. " It is a
pity," we sometimes hear it said, " that such and such an author
does not express in simple, intelligible, unaffected English such
admirable matter as his." They little think that it is the
strangeness and obscurity of the style that make the power dis-
played seem far greater than it is ; and that much of what they
now admire as originality and profound wisdom, would appear,
if translated into common language, to be mere common- place

lect. yi.-j bacon's essays. 145

matter. Many a work of this description may remind one of
the supposed ancient shield, which had been found by the anti-
quary, Martinus Scriblerus, and which he highly prized, in-
crusted as it was with venerable rust. He mused on the splendid
appearance it must have had in its bright newness; till, one day,
an over-sedulous housemaid having scoured off the rust, it turned
out to be merely an old pot lid.

It is chiefly in such foggy forms that the metaphysics and
theology of Germany, for instance, are exercising a greater
influence every day on popular literature. It has been
zealously instilled into the minds of many, that Germany
has something far more profound to supply than anything
hitherto extant in our native literature ; though what that
profound something is, seem3 not to be well understood by
its admirers. They are, most of them, willing to take it for
granted, with an implicit faith, that what seems such hard
thinking must be very accurate and original thinking also.
What is abstruse and recondite they suppose must be abstruse
and recondite wisdom ; though, perhaps, it is what, if stated in
plain English, they would throw aside as partly trifling truisms,
and partly stark folly.

It is a remark that I have heard highly applauded, that a
clear idea is generally a little idea ; for there are not a few
persons who estimate the depth of thought as an unskilful
eye would estimate the depth of water. Muddy water is apt
to be supposed deeper than it is, because you cannot see to
the bottom ; very clear water, on the contrary, will always
seem less deep than it is, both from the well-known law of
refraction, and also because it is so thoroughly penetrated by
the sight. Men fancy that an idea must have been always
obvious to every one, when they find it so plainly presented to
the mind, that every one can easily take it in. An expla-
nation that is perfectly clear, satisfactory, and simple, often
causes the unreflecting to forget that they had needed any
explanation at all.

Now Bacon is a striking instance of a genius who could
w. e. L

146 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.

think so profoundly, and at the same time so clearly, that an
ordinary man understands readily most of his wisest sayings,
and, perhaps, thinks them so self-evident as hardly to need
mention. But, on re-consideration and repeated meditation,
you perceive more and more what extensive and important
applications one of his maxims will have, and how often it
has been overlooked : and on returning to it again and again
fresh views of its importance will continually open on you.
One of his sayings will be like some of the heavenly bodies
that are visible to the naked eye, but in which you see con-
tinually more and more, the better the telescope you apply to
them.

The " dark sayings," on the contrary, of some admired
writers, may be compared to a fog-bank at sea, which the
navigator at first glance takes for a chain of majestic moun-
tains, but which, when approached closely, or when viewed
through a good glass, proves to be a mere mass of unsub-
stantial vapours.

A large proportion of Bacon's works has been in great
measure superseded, chiefly through the influence exerted by
those works themselves ; for, the more satisfactory and effectual
is the refutation of some prevailing errors, and the establish-
ment of some philosophical principles that had been overlooked,
the less need is there to resort, for popular use, to the arguments
by which this has been effected. They are like the trenches
and batteries by which a besieged town has been assailed,
and which are abandoned as soon as the capture has been effected.
" I have been labouring," says some writer who had been
engaged in a task of this kind (and Bacon might have said
the same) — " I have been labouring to render myself useless."
Great part, accordingly, of what were the most important
of Bacon's works are now resorted to chiefly as a matter of
curious and interesting speculation to the studious few, while
the effect of them is practically felt by many who never read,
or perhaps even heard of them.

But his Essays retain their popularity, as relating chiefly

lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 147

to the concerns of e very-day life, and which, as he himself
expresses it, " come home to men's business and bosom3."

To treat fully of the design and character of Bacon's
greater works, and of the mistakes — which are not few or un-
important— that prevail respecting them, would be altogether
unsuited to this occasion. But it may be worth while to intro-
duce two brief remarks on that subject.

(1.) The prevailing fault among philosophers in Bacon's
time, and long before, was hasty, careless, and scanty observa-
tion, and the want of copious and patient experiment. On
supposed facts not carefully ascertained, and often on mere
baseless conjecture, they proceeded to reason, often very closely
and ingeniously; forgetting that no architectural skill in a
superstructure will give it greater firmness than the foundation
on which it rests ; and thus they of course failed of arriving at
true conclusions ; for, the most accurate reasoning is of no avail,
if you have not well-established facts and principles to start from.

Bacon laboured zealously and powerfully to recall philo-
sophers from the study of fanciful systems, based on crude
conjectures, or on imperfect knowledge, to the careful and
judicious investigation, or, as he called it, " interrogation" and
"interpretation of nature;" the collecting and properly ar-
ranging of well-ascertained facts. And the maxims which
he laid down and enforced for the conduct of philosophical
inquiry are universally admitted to have at least greatly con-
tributed to the vast progress which physical science has been
making since his time.

But though Bacon dwelt on the importance of setting out
from an accurate knowledge of facts, and on the absurdity
of attempting to substitute the reasoning-process for an in-
vestigation of nature, it would be a great mistake to imagine
that he meant to disparage the reasoning-process, or to sub-
stitute for skill and correctness in that, a mere accumulated
knowledge of a multitude of facts. And any one would be
far indeed from being a follower of Bacon who should despise
logical accuracy, and trust to what is often called experience ;

l3

148 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.

meaning by that an extensive but crude and undigested ob-
servation. For, as books, though indispensably necessary for a
student, are of no use to one who has not learned to read,
though he distinctly sees black marks on white paper, so is all
experience and acquaintance with facts unprofitable to one
whose mind has not been trained to read rightly the volume of
nature and of human transactions spread before him.

When complaints are made — often not altogether without
reason — of the prevailing ignorance of facts, on such or such
subjects, it will often be found that the parties censured,
though possessing less knowledge than is desirable, yet possess
more than they know what to do with. Their deficiency in
arranging and applying their knowledge, in combining facts,
and correctly deducing, and rightly employing, general prin-
ciples, will be perhaps greater than their ignorance of facts.
Now, to attempt remedying this defect by imparting to them
additional knowledge, — to confer the advantage of wider ex-
perience on those who have not skill in profiting by experience, —
is to attempt enlarging the prospect of a short-sighted man by
bringing him to the top of a hill. Since he could not, on the
plain, see distinctly the objects before him, the wider horizon
from the hill-top is utterly lost on him.

In the tale of Sandford and Merton, where the two boys
are described as amusing themselves with building a hovel,
they lay poles horizontally on the top, and cover them with
straw, so as to make a flat roof; of course the rain comes
through ; and Master Merton proposes then to lay on more
straw. But Sandford, the more intelligent boy, remarks, that
as long as the roof is flat, the rain must sooner or later soak
through ; and that the remedy is, to alter the building, and
form the roof sloping. Now, the idea of enlightening incorrect
reasoners by additional knowledge, is an error analogous to
that of the flat roof. Of course knowledge is necessary ; so is
straw to thatch the roof; but no quantity of materials will
be a substitute for understanding how to build.

But the unwise and incautious are always prone to rush

lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 149

from an error on one side into an opposite error. And a
reaction accordingly took place from the abuse of reason-
ing, to the undue neglect of it, and from the fault of not
sufficiently observing facts, to that of trusting to a mere ac-
cumulation of ill-arranged knowledge. It is as if men had
formerly spent vain labour in threshing over and over again
the same straw, and winnowing the same chaff, and then
their successors had resolved to discard those processes alto-
gether, and to bring home and use wheat and weeds, straw,
chaff, and grain, just as they grew, and without any pre-
paration at all.

If Bacon had lived in the present day, I am convinced he
would have made his chief complaint against unmethodized
inquiry, and careless and illogical reasoning; certainly, he
would not have complained of Dialectics as corrupting philo-
sophy. To guard now against the evils prevalent in Ms time,
would be to fortify a town against battering-rams instead of
against cannon.

(2.) The other remark I would make on Bacon's greater
works is, that he does not rank high as a " natural philosopher."
His genius lay another way; not in the direct pursuit of
physical science, but in discerning and correcting the errors of
philosophers, and laying down the principles on which they
ought to proceed. According to Horace's illustration, his
office was not that of the razor, but the hone, " acutum reddere
quse ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi."

The poet Cowley accordingly has beautifully compared
Bacon to Moses,

" Who did upon the very border stand
Of that fair promised land ;"

who had brought the Israelites out of Egypt, and led them
through the wilderness to the entrance into the land flowing
with milk and honey, which he was allowed to view from the
hill-top, but not himself to enter.

It requires the master-mind of a great general to form

150 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.

the plan of a campaign, and to direct aright the movements of
great bodies of troops : but the greatest general may perhaps
fall far short of many a private soldier in the use of the musket
or the sword.

But Bacon, though far from being without a taste for the
pursuits of physical science, had an actual inaptitude for it,
as might be shown by many examples. The discoveries of
Copernicus and Galileo, e. g., which had attracted attention
before and in his own time, he appears to have rejected or
disregarded.

But one of the most remarkable specimens of his inapti-
tude for practically carrying out his own principles in matters
connected with Physical Science, is his speculation concerning
the well-known plant called misselto. He notices the popular
belief of his own time, that it is a true plant, propagated by
its berries, which are dropped by birds on the boughs of other
trees, a fact alluded to in a Latin proverb applicable to those
who create future dangers for themselves; for, the ancient
Romans prepared birdlime for catching birds from the misselto
thus propagated. Now this account of the plant, which has
long since been universally admitted, Bacon rejects as a vulgar
error, and insists on it that misselto is not a true plant, but an
excrescence from the tree it grows on !

Nothing can be conceived more remote from the spirit of the
Baconian philosophy than thus to substitute a random con-
jecture for careful investigation: and that, too, when there
actually did exist a prevailing belief, and it was obviously
the first step to inquire whether this were or were not well-
founded.

But rarely, if ever, do we find any such failures in Bacon's
speculations on human character and conduct. It was there
that his strength lay ; and in that department of philosophy it
may be safely said that he had few to equal, and none to excel
him.

His Essays contain many admirable specimens of this his
characteristic kind of wisdom, and on a few of them, taken as

lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 151

specimens, I shall offer some brief remarks. But it may be
proper to premise, in reference to the title of " Essays," that
it has been considerably changed in its application since the
days of Bacon. By an Essay was meant, according to the ob-
vious and natural sense of the word, a slight sketch, to be
filled up by the reader ; — brief hints designed to be followed
out, — loose thoughts on some subject, thrown out without much
regularity,- but sufficient to suggest further inquiries and re-
flection. Any more elaborate, regular, and finished composition,
such as in our days often bears the title of an " essay," our
ancestors called a treatise, tractate, dissertation, or discourse.
But the more unpretending title of " essay " has in great
measure superseded those others which were formerly in use,
and more strictly appropriate.

I have adverted to this circumstance, because it ought to
be remembered, that an essay in the strict and original sense
of the word — an essay such as Bacon's — was designed to be
suggestive of further remarks and reflections, and, in short, to
set the reader a thinking on the subject. With an essay in the
modern sense of the word, it is not so. If the reader of what
was designed to be a regular and complete treatise on some sub-
ject (and which would have been so entitled by our forefathers)
makes additional remarks on that subject, he may be understood
to imply that there is a deficiency and imperfection — a some-
thing wanting — in the work before him ; whereas to suggest
such further remarks — to give outlines that the reader shall fill
up for himself — is the very object of an essay properly so called,
such as those of Bacon.

He is throughout, and especially in his Essays, one of the
most suggestive authors that ever wrote ; and it is remarkable,
that, compressed and pithy as his Essays are, and consisting
chiefly of brief hints, he has elsewhere condensed into a still
smaller compass the matter of most of them. In his Rhetoric,
he has drawn up what he calls " Antitheta," or " common-
places " — locos — pros and cons — opposite sentiments and rea-
sons on various points, most of them the same that are dis-

152 bacon's essays.

[lect. VI.

cussed in the Essays. It is a compendious and clear mode of
bringing before the mind the most important points in any
question, to place in parallel columns, as Bacon has done, what-
ever can be plausibly urged, fairly or unfairly, on opposite
sides ; and then you are in the condition of a judge, who has to
decide some cause after having heard all the pleadings.

I will select a few examples from those Essays which cor-
respond with certain heads in the Antitheta. E.g., in the
Essay on Nobility (in the sense of high birth) he says — after
having treated of it first as a " portion of an estate," i.e., in
modern English, of an order of nobles as a part of the consti-
tution : —

" As for nobility in particular persons ; it is a reverend thing to
see an ancient castle, or building, not in decay, or to see a fair timber
tree sound and perfect; how much more, to behold an ancient noble
family, which hath stood against the waves and weathers of time ?
for new nohility is but the act of power, but ancient nohility is the
act of time. Those that are first raised to nobility, are commonly more
virtuous, but less innocent, than their descendants ; for there is rarely
any rising but by a commixture of good and evil arts : but it is reason
the memory of their virtues remain to their posterity, and their faults
die with themselves. Nobility of birth commonly abateth industry ;
and he that is not industrious, envieth him that is : besides, noble
persons cannot go much higher : and he that standeth at a stay when
others rise, can hardly avoid motions of envy. On the other side,
nobility extinguisheth the passive envy from others towards them,
because they are in possession of honour. Certainly, kings that have
able men of their nobility shall find ease in employing them, and a
better slide into their business ; for people naturally bend to them
as born in some sort to command."

Now observe how he condenses the chief part of this in his
Antitheta : —

"nobilitas.
" pro. " contra.

* * * " Raro ex virtute nobilitas :

" Nobilitas laurea, qua tempus rarius ex nobilitate virtus,
homines coronat. " Nobility is seldom the conse-

" Nobility is the toreath with quence of virtue ; virtue, still more
which Time croivns men. seldom the conseque7ice of nobility.

LECT. VI.]

bacon's essays.

153

" PRO.

" Antiquitatem etiarn in mo-
numentis niortuis veneramur :
quanto magis in vivis ?

" We reverence antiquity even in
lifeless monuments, how much more
in living ones ?

* * *

" Nobilitas virtutem invidiam
subducit, gratiae tradit.

"Nobility withdraws virtue from
envy, and commends it to favour.

" CONTRA.

" Nobiles majorum depreca-
tione, ad veniam, ssepius utun-
tur, quam suffragatione, ad
honores.

" Persons of high birth oftener
resort to their ancestors as a means
of escaping punishment than as a
recommendation to high posts.

" Tarda solet esse industria
horainum novorura, ut nobiles
prae illis tanquam status vi-
deantur.

" Such is the activity of upstarts,
that men of high birth seem statues
in comparison.

"Nobiles in stadio respectant
nimis ssepe; quod mali cursor is
est.

" In running their race, men of
birth look back too often, which is
the mark of a bad runner.'"

Again, take a portion of the Essay on Ceremonies and Re-
spects, by which he means what, in modern English, we ex-
press by "conventional forms of politeness," and "rules of
etiquette :"

" He that is only real had need have exceeding great parts of
virtue ; as the stone had need to be rich that is set without foil : but
if a man mark it well, it is in praise and commendation of men, as it
is in gettings and gains ; for the proverb is true ' That light gains
make heavy purses ;' for light gains come thick, whereas great com©
but now and then ; so it is true, that small matters win great com-
mendation, because they are continually in use and in note : whereas
the occasion of any great virtue cometh but on festivals ; therefore it
doth much add to a man's reputation, and is (as queen Isabella said)
like perpetual letters commendatory, to have good forms. To attain
them, it almost sufficeth not to despise them ; for so shall a man ob-
serve them in others ; and let him trust himself with the rest ; for if
he labour too much to express them, he shall lose their grace ; which
is to be natural and unaffected. Some men's behaviour is like a verse,
wherein every syllable is measured ; how can a man comprehend
great matters that breaketh his mind too much to small observations?

154

bacon's essays.

[lect. VI.

Not to use ceremonies at all is to teach others not to use them again ;
and so diminish respect to himself ; especially they are not to be
omitted to strangers and formal natures : but the dwelling upon them,
and exalting them above the moon, is not only tedious, but doth di-
minish the faith and credit of him that speaks ; and, certainly, there
is a kind of conveying of effectual and imprinting passages amongst
compliments, which is of singular use, if a man can hit upon it.
Amongst a man's peers, a man shall be sure of familiarity; and there-
fore it is good to keep a little state ; amongst a man's inferiors, one
shall be sure of reverence ; and .therefore it is good a little to be
familiar."

Compare with this —

CEREMONI^, PDNCTI, AFFECTATIO.

" PRO.

" Si et in verbis vulgo pare-
mus, quidni in habitu, et gestu ?

" If we accommodate ourselves to
the vulgar in our speech, why not
also in our deportment ?

" Virtus et prudentia sine
punctis, velut peregrinse linguae
sunt ; nam vulgo non intelli-
guntur.

" Virtue and wisdom without
forms of politeness are strange lan-
guages, for they are not ordinarily
understood.

" Puncti translatio sunt virtu-
tis in linguam vernaculam.

'■'■Forms are the translation of vir-
tue into the vulgar tongue.

"contra.

" Quid deformius, quam scenam
in vitam transferre ?

" What can be more disgusting
than to transfer the stage into com-
mon life ?

" Magis placent cerussatffi buc-
cse, et calamistrata coma, quam
cerussati et calamistrati mores.

" Rouged cheeks and curled hair
are less offensive than rouged and
curled manners.™

It is worth observing in reference to this head, that the
''vernacular tongue," in which the forms of civility are ex-
pressed, differs in different times and places. For instance, in
Spain it is a common form of civility to ask a man to dinner,
and for the other to reply, " Sure you would not think of such
a thing." To accept a first or second invitation would be as
great a blunder as if, among us, any one who signed himself

LECT. VI.]

bacon's essays.

155

"your obedient servant" should be taken literally, and desired to
perform some menial office. If a Spanish gentleman really
means to ask you to dinner, he repeats the invitation a third
time ; and then he is to be understood literally.

Serious errors may, of course, arise in opposite ways, by
not understanding aright what is and is not to be taken as a
mere complimentary form.

The Essay on Innovations is one of the most instructive;
and his Antitheta on the same subject are particularly happy.

INNOVATIO.

" PRO.

" Omnis medicina innovatio.

" Every medicament is an inno-
vation.

" Qui nova remedia fugit, nova
mala operitiu*.

"He v)ho shuns new remedies
must expect new evils.

" Novator maximus tempus :
quidni igitur tempus imitemur ?

" Time is the great innovator ;
why then not imitate Time f

" Morosa morum retentio, res
turbulenta est, saque ac novitas.

" A stubborn adherence to old
practices breeds tumults no less than
novelty.

" Cum per se res mutentur in
deterius, si consilio in melius non
mutentur, quis finis erit mali ?

" Since things spontaneously
change for the worse, if they be
not by design changed for the better,
evils must accumulate without end.

"contra.

" Nullus auctor placet, prseter
tempus.

" One bows willingly to no au-
thority but Time.

" Nulla novitas absque injuria;
nam prsesentia convellit.

" Every novelty does some hurt,
for it unsettles what is established.

"Quae usu obtinuere, ai non
bona, at saltern apta inter se
sunt.

" Things that are settled by long
use, if not absolutely good, at least
ft well together.

" Quis novator tempus imitatur,
quod novationes ita insinuat, ut
sensus fallant?

" Shew me the innovator who
imitates Time, that slides in changes
imperceptibly.

" Quod praeter spem evenit, cui
prodest, minus acceptum ; cui
obest magis molestum.

" What happens unexpectedly is,
for that reason, less welcome to him
whom it profits, and more galling to
him whom it hurts."

When Bacon speaks of time as an " innovator," he might
have remarked, by the way — what of course he well knew —

156 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.

that though this is an allowable and convenient form of ex-
pression, it is not literally correct. In the words of the late
Bishop Copleston (in the volume of his Remains, which I
edited), " one of the commonest errors is to regard time as
an agent. But in reality time does nothing, and is nothing.
We use it as a compendious expression for all those causes
which act slowly and imperceptibly. But, unless some positive
cause is in action, no change takes place in the lapse of one
thousand years; as, for instance, in a drop of water enclosed
in a cavity of silex. The most intelligent writers are not free
from this illusion. For instance, Simond, in his Switzerland,
speaking of a mountain-scene says — ' The quarry from which
the materials of the bridge came, is just above your head, and
the miners are still at work ; air, water, frost, weight, and
time.'' Thus, too, those politicians who object to any positive
enactments affecting the Constitution, and who talk of the
gentle operation of time, and of our Constitution itself being
the work of time, forget that it is human agency all along
which is the efficient cause. Time does nothing." Thus far
Bishop Copleston.

But we are so much influenced by our own use of language,
that, though no one can doubt, when the question is put before
him, that effects are produced not by time, but in time, we are
accustomed to represent Time as armed with a scythe, and
mowing down all before him.

There is no more striking instance of the silent and im-
perceptible changes brought about by what is called " time,"
than that of a language becoming dead. To point out the
precise period at which Greek or Latin ceased to be a living
language, would be as impossible as to say when a man becomes
old. And much confusion of thought, and many important
practical results arise from not attending to this. For ex-
ample, many persons have never reflected on the circumstance
that one of the earliest translations of the Scriptures into
a vernacular tongue, was made by the Church of Rome. The
Latin Vulgate was so called from its being in the vulgar, t. «.,

lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 157

the popular language then spoken in Italy and the neigh-
bouring countries ; and that version was evidently made on
purpose that the Scriptures might be intelligibly read by,
or read to, the mass of the people. But gradually and imper-
ceptibly Latin was superseded by the languages derived from
it — Italian, Spanish, and French, while the Scriptures were
still left in Latin : and when it was proposed to translate them
into modern tongues, this was regarded as a perilous inno-
vation, though it is plain that the real innovation was that
which had taken place imperceptibly, since the very object
proposed by the vulgate version was, that the Scriptures might
not be left in an unknown tongue. Yet you will meet with
many among the fiercest declaimers against the Church of
Rome, who earnestly deprecate any the slightest changes in
our authorized version, and cannot endure even the gradual
substitution of other words for such as have become quite
obsolete, for fear of unsettling men's minds. It never occurs
to them that it was this very dread that kept the Scriptures
in the Latin tongue, when that gradually became a dead
language.

But, universally, the removal at once of the accumulated
effects gradually produced in a very long time, is apt to strike
the vulgar as a novelty, when, in truth, it is only a restoration
of things to their original state.

For example, suppose a clock to lose only one minute and a
few seconds in the week, and to be left uncorrected for a year ;
it will then have lost a whole hour ; and any one who then sets
it right, will appear to the ignorant to have suddenly robbed
them of that amount of time.

This case is precisely analogous to that of the change
of Style. There was, in what is called the Julian Calendar
(that fixed by Julius Caesar) a minute error, which made
every fourth year a trifle too long ; in the course of centuries
the error amounted to eleven days, and when, about a century
ago, we rectified this (as had been done in Roman Catholic
countries a century earlier), this mode of reckoning was called

158 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.

"the new style." The Russians, who still use what is called
" the old style," are now not eleven, but twelve days wrong 5
that is, they are one day further from the original position of
the days of the month, as fixed in the time of Julius Caesar:
and this they call adhering to the Julian Calendar.

So, also, to reject the religious practices and doctrines
that have crept in by little and little since the days of the
apostles, and thus to restore Christianity to what it was under
them, appears to the unthinking to be forsaking the old religion
and bringing in a new.

In reference to the present subject, it may be remarked as
a curious circumstance, that there are in most languages pro-
verbial sayings respecting it, apparently opposed to each other ;
as for instance, that men are attached to what they have been
used to ; that " use is a second nature ;" that they fondly cling
to the institutions and practices they have been accustomed to,
and can hardly be prevailed on to change them even for better ;
and then, again, on the other side, that men have a natural
craving for novelty ; that unvarying sameness is tiresmoe ;
that some variety, — some change, even for the worse, is agree-
ably refreshing, &c.

The truth is, that in all the serious and important affairs
of life, men are attached to what they have been used to ; in
matters of ornament, they covet novelty ; in all systems and
institutions — in all the ordinary business of life — in all funda-
mentals— they cling to what is the established course; in mat-
ters of detail — in what lies, as it were, on the surface — they
seek variety. Man may, in reference to this point, be compared
to a tree whose stem and main branches stand year after year,
but whose leaves and flowers are changed every season.

In most countries people like change in the fashions of
their dress and furniture ; in almost all, they like new music,
new poems and novels (so called in reference to this taste),
pictures, flowers, games, &c, but they are wedded to what is
established in laws, institutions, systems, and in all that relates
to the main business of life. Every one knows how slowly and

lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 159

■with what difficulty farmers are prevailed on to adopt any new
system of husbandry, even when the faults of an old established
usage, and the advantage of a change, can be made evident
to the senses. If you ask persons of this class their reason
for doing so and so, they will generally give as an answer,
which they consider quite a sufficient one, " that is what^ we
always do."

This distinction is one which it may often be of great im-
portance to keep in mind. For instance, the ancient Romans
and other Pagans seldom objected to the addition of a new god
to their list ; and it is said that some of them actually did pro-
pose to enrol Jesus among the number. This was quite con-
sonant to the genius of their mythological system. But the
overthrow of the whole system itself, and the substitution of
a fundamentally different religion, was a thing they at first
regarded with alarm and horror ; all their feelings were en-
listed against such a radical change. And any one who should
imagine that the Gospel could be received with some degree of
favour on account of its being new, because, forsooth, men like
novelties, and that, therefore, something short of the most
overpowering miraculous proofs might have sufficed for its
introduction and spread, such a person must have entirely
overlooked the distinction between the kinds of things in which
men do or do not favor what is new.

And the like holds good in all departments of life. New
medicines, for instance, come into vogue from time to time,
with or without good reason; but a fundamentally new system
of medicine, whether right or wrong, is sure to have the
strongest prejudices enlisted against it. If when the celebrated
Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood, he had, on the
ground that people often readily introduced some new medi-
cine, calculated on a favorable reception, or even a fair hearing
for his doctrine, which went to establish a fundamental revo-
lution, he would soon have been undeceived by the vehement
and general opposition with which he was encountered.

And it was the physicians of the highest standing that

160 bacon's ESSAYS. [LECT. j£

most opposed Harvey. It was the most experienced naviga-
tors that opposed Columbus' views. It was those most con-
versant with the management of the Post-office, that were
the last to approve of the plan of the uniform penny-postage.
For, the greater any one's experience and skill in his own
department, and the more he is entitled to the deference which
is proverbially due to each man in his own province [" peritis
credendum est in arte sua"], the more likely, indeed, he will
be to be a good judge of improvements in details, or even
to introduce them himself; but the more tmlikely to give a
fair hearing to any proposed radical change. An experienced
stage-coachman is likely to be a good judge of all that relates
to turnpike roads and coach -horses ; but you should not consult
him about railroads and steam-carriages.

True it is that great and sudden and violent changes do
take place — that ancient institutions have been recklessly over-
thrown— that sanguinary revolutions have taken place in quick
succession, and that new schemes, often the most wild and
extravagant, both in civil and religious matters, have been
again and again introduced. We need not seek far to find
countries that have had, within the memory of persons now
living, not less than nine or ten perfectly distinct systems
of government. But no changes of this kind ever originate
in the mere love of change for its own sake. Never do men
adopt a new form of government, or a new system of religion,
merely from that delight in variety which leads them to seek
new amusements, or to alter the fashion of their dress. They
seek changes in what relates to serious matters of fundamental
importance, only through the pressure of severe suifering, or
of some vehement want, or, at least, from the perception of
some great evil or deficiency. Widely as the vulgar are often
mistaken as to the causes of any distress, or as to the remedies
to be sought, the distress itself is real, when they aim at any
great revolution. If an infant beats its nurse, although its
acts are as irrational as those of a mad dog, you may be assured
that it is really in pain. And when men are suffering from a

lect. \x.J BACON'S ESSAYS. 161

famine or pestilence, though it is absurd for them to seek to
obtain relief by establishing a new kind of senate or parliament,
or by setting up a dictator, or by slaughtering all people of
property, still the evil itself is real, and is keenly felt ; and it
is that, and not a mere love of change, for change-sake, that
drives them to take the most irrational steps. And when evils
are really occasioned by absurd and oppressive laws and ty-
rannical governments, it is right and rational to aim at a
change, though the changes which an infuriated populace does
bring about will usually be both irrational and wrong — will
overthrow the good along with the evil — and will be pregnant
with worse evils than they seek to remedy. The ancient
despotism of France, detestable as it was, did not cause more
misery in a century than the Reign of Terror did in a year.
And, universally, the longer and the more grievously any people
have been oppressed, the more violent and extravagant will be
the reaction. And the people will often be in the condition of
King Lear, going to and fro between his daughters, and de-
prived first of half his attendants, then of half the remainder,
then of all.

Hence, though it is true that innovations in important
matters are never sought through mere love of change for
its own sake, but for relief from some evil, the danger is
not the less, of rash and ill-advised innovations ; because evils,
greater or less, and more or less of imperfection, always do
exist in all human institutions administered by fallible men.

And what is more, there is seldom any kind of evil that
does not admit of a complete and effectual remedy, if we are
careless about introducing some different, and, perhaps, greater
evil in its place. It is seldom very difficult to dam up a
stream that incommodes us ; only we should remember that it
will then force for itself a new channel, or else spread out
into an unwholesome marsh. The evils of contested elections,
the bribery, the intimidation, and the deception which they
often give rise to, are undeniable; and they would be com-
pletely cured by suppressing the House of Commons altogether,
w. E. M

162 bacon's essays.

[lect. VI.

or making the seats in it hereditary ; but we should not
be gainers by the exchange. There are evils belonging speci-
fically to a pure monarchy, and to an oligarchy, and to a
democracy, and to a mixed government: and a change in the
form of government would always remedy one class of evils, and
introduce another. And under all governments, civil and ec-
clesiastical, there are evils arising from the occasional incapacity
or misconduct of those to whom power is entrusted ; evils which
might be at once remedied by introducing the far greater evil
of anarchy, and leaving every man to " do as is right in his
own eyes." There are inconveniences again from being governed
by fixed laws, which must always bear hard on some particular
cases ; but we should be no gainers by leaving every judge to
act like a Turkish Cadi entirely at his own discretion. And
the like holds good in all departments of life.

Bacon's maxim, therefore, is most wise, to " make a stand
upon the ancient way, and look about us to discover what is the
best way;" neither changing at once, anything that is established,
merely because of some evils actually existing, without con-
sidering whether we can substitute something that is on the
whole better ; nor again, steadily rejecting every plan or system
that can be proposed, till one can be found that is open to no
objections at all. For, nothing framed or devised by the wit
of Man ever was, or can be, perfect ; and therefore to condemn
and reject everything that is imperfect, and has some evils
attending on it, is a folly which may lead equally — and indeed
often has led — to each of two opposite absurdities : either an
obstinate adherence to what is established, however bad, because
nothing absolutely unexceptionable can be substituted ; or again,
a perpetual succession of revolutions till we can establish — which
is totally impossible — some system completely faultless.

The obvious dictate of common sense is to compare and
weigh together the advantages and disadvantages on both sides,
and then decide accordingly.

It is quite certain that whatever is established and already
existing has a presumption on its side ; that is, the burden of proof

lect. vi.l bacon's essays. 163

lies on those who propose a change. No one is called on to
bring reasons against any alteration, till some reasons have
been offered for it. But the deference which is thus claimed
for old laws and institutions is sometimes extended (through the
ambiguity of language — the use of "old" for "ancient") to
what are called " the good old times ;" as if the world had
formerly been older, instead of younger, than it is now. But
it is manifest that the advantage possessed by old men — that of
long experience — must belong to the present Age more than to
any preceding.

The two kinds of absurdity which I have just adverted to
— a blind impatience for auy novelty that seems to promise fair,
and an equally blind repugnance to any change, however need-
ful— may be compared respectively to the acts of two kinds of
irrational animals, a moth, and a horse. The moth rushes into
a flame and is burned ; and the horse obstinately stands still in
a stable that is on fire, and is burned likewise. One may often
meet with persons of opposite dispositions, though equally un-
wise, who are accordingly prone respectively to these opposite
errors ; the one partaking more of the character of the moth,
and the other of the horse.

I will conclude my remarks on this head by referring to the
homely old proverb, a " tile in time saves nine." A house may
stand for ages if some very small repairs and alterations are
promptly made from time to time as they are needed ; whereas
if decay is suffered to go on unheeded, it may become necessary to
pull down and rebuild the whole house. The longer any need-
ful reform is delayed, the greater and the more difficult, and the
more sudden, and the more dangerous and unsettling, it will be.
And then, perhaps, those who had caused this delay by their
pertinacious resistance to any change at all, will point to these
evils — evils brought on by themselves — in justification of their
conduct. If they would have allowed a few broken slates on the
roof to be at once replaced by new ones, the timbers would not
have rotted, nor the walls, in consequence, leaned, nor would
the house have thence needed to be demolished and rebuilt.

M 3

164 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.

To say that no changes shall take place is to talk idly. We
might as well pretend to control the motions of the earth. To
resolve that none shall take place except what are undesigned
and accidental, is to resolve that though a clock may gain or
lose indefinitely, at least we will take care that it shall never
be regulated.

Most wise, therefore, is Bacon's admonition, to copy the
great innovator time, by vigilantly watching for, and promptly
counteracting the first small insidious approaches of decay, and
introducing gradually, from time to time, such small improve-
ments (individually small, but collectively great) as there may
be room for, and which will prevent the necessity of violent and
sweeping reformations.

Few of you, probably, are likely ever to be called on to take
part in the reformation of any public institutions. But there is
no one of us but what ought to engage in the important work of
se//"-reformation. And according to the well-known proverb,
" If each would sweep before his own door, we should have a
clean street." Some may have more, and some less, of dust and
other nuisances to sweep away ; some of one kind and some of
another. But those who have the least to do, have something
to do ; and they should feel it an encouragement to do it, that
they can so easily remedy the beginnings of small evils before
they have accumulated into a great one.

Begin reforming, therefore, at once : proceed in reforming,
steadily and cautiously ; and go on reforming for ever.

Far ahead of his Age as Bacon was, it would be too much
to expect of any one not gifted with infallibility to have been
wholly free from the prejudices prevalent in his time.

Besides a tendency, apparent in many places, towards an
undue depreciation of Aristotle, which was a natural reaction
from the excessive, absurd, and almost idolatrous veneration
that had long been paid, chiefly to the least valuable of his
works, Bacon was also, in a certain degree, infected with the
vulgar errors of that Age.

lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 165

For instance, in his Essay on the Greatness of ICing-
doms, he speaks of aggressive wars with a view to extension of
empire, and of seeking plausible pretexts for them, in a style
which not even a Russian would venture to use in these days.
Bad as men's practice still is, the sentiments they express are
happily much more conformable to justice : and as it is the
character of right theory to be always somewhat ahead of right
practice, we may cherish a hope that the conduct of States is
(though as yet very backward) in a way to improve.

Bacon's view of war as a kind of healthful exercise for a
nation, was that of his times, and of times not only long before,
but long after his day. I wish we could say that such a view
has never been put forth in the present generation. But we may
say that the doctrine is one which very few military, and still
fewer non-military men would, now, venture to maintain.

And if the happy time should ever arrive that there should
be no more wars of aggression, all wars would cease, since there
can be none without an aggressor. If indeed some one, or some
two or three States should practically adopt the doctrine of the
unlawfulness of self-defence, wars would be likely to increase,
since any such State would at once be taken under the protection
of some unscrupulous conqueror, like a flock of sheep left to the
mercy of a wolf; he would seize on their country, when he
found that he could do so with impunity, and take their children
as conscripts, to be trained as his soldiers for fresh conquests.
But if some States steadily renounce wars of conquest, while
yet prepared to maintain their own independence, their example
may be followed by others ; and when such a system shall have
become universal, the question about the lawfulness of self-
defence will have become a purely speculative one ; since there
will no longer be any aggression to repel.

Again, in the Essay on Seditions and Tumults, he falls
into the error which always prevails in the earlier stages of
civilization, and which accordingly was more prevalent in his
Age than in ours — that of over-governing.

166 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.

It may be reckoned a kind of puerility: for you will
generally find young persons prone to it, and also those legis-
lators who lived in the younger, i.e., the earlier ages of the
world. They naturally wish to enforce by law everything that
they consider to be good, and forcibly to prevent men from doing
anything that is unadvisable. And the amount of mischief is
incalculable that has been caused by this meddlesome kind of
legislation. For not only have such legislators been, as often,
as not, mistaken, as to what really is beneficial or hurtful, but
also when they have been right in their judgment on that point,
they have often done more harm than good by attempting to
enforce by law what had better he left to each man's own
discretion.

As an example of the first kind of error, may be taken the
many efforts made by the legislators of various countries to re-
strict foreign commerce, on the supposition that it would be
advantageous to supply all our wants ourselves, and that we
must be losers by purchasing anything from abroad. If a
weaver were to spend half his time in attempting to make shoes
and furniture for himself, or a shoemaker to neglect his trade
while endeavouring to raise corn for his own consumption, they
would be guilty of no greater folly than has often been, and in
many instances still is, forced on many nations by their govern-
ments ; which have endeavoured to withdraw from agriculture to
manufactures a people possessing abundance of fertile land, or
who have forced them to the home cultivation of such articles as
their soil and climate are not suited to, and thus compelled them
to supply themselves with an inferior commodity at a greater cost.

On the other hand, there is no doubt that early hours are
healthful, and that men ought not to squander their money on
luxurious feasts and costly dress, unsuited to their means ; but
when governments thereupon undertook to prescribe the hours
at which men should go to rest, requiring them to put out their
lights at the sound of the curfew-bell, and enacted sumptuary
laws as to the garments they were to wear, and the dishes of
meat they were to have at their tables, this meddling kind of

ijsct. vi.] bacon's essays. 167

legislation was always found excessively galling, and moreover
entirely ineffectual ; since men's dislike to such laws always pro-
duced contrivances for evading the spirit of them.

Bacon, however, was far from always seeing his way rightly
in these questions; which is certainly not to be wondered at,
considering that we who live three centuries later have only just
emerged from thick darkness into twilight, and are far from
having yet completely thrown off those erroneous notions of our
forefathers.

Bacon in that Essay I have just alluded to, advocates sump-
tuary laws, — the regulating of prices by law (which, by the way,
still existed in the memory of most of us, with respect to bread)
— legislation against engrossing of commodities (an error which
has only very lately been exploded), and prohibiting the laying
down of land in pasture — with other such puerilities as are to
be found in the earlier laws of most nations.

In his Essay on Usury he does not go the whole length
of the prejudices existing in his time, though he partakes of
them in a great degree. In his day, and long before, there were
many who held it absolutely sinful to receive any interest for
money, on the ground of the prohibition of it to the Israelites in
their dealings with each other; though the Mosaic law itself
proves the contrary, since it allows lending at interest to a
stranger; and certainly the Israelites were not permitted to
oppress and defraud strangers.

Bacon, however, is for tolerating usury, on the ground that
men are so hard-hearted, that they will not lend without in-
terest. It never occurred to him, seemingly, that no one is
called hard-hearted for not letting his land or his house rent free,
or for requiring to be paid for the use of his horse, or his ship,
or any other kind of property. It may seem strange that Bacon
should not have perceived — but it is far more strange that legis-
lators in the nineteenth century should not have perceived — that
there is no essential difference between the use of any other kind
of property, and money, which represents, and is equivalent to,
any and all kinds.

168 BACON'S ESSAYS. J_lect- vi.

One man, for example, invests his money in building a ship,
or manufactory, and engages in commerce or in manufactures
himself; a second builds the ship or the mill, and lets it to a
merchant or a manufacturer who understands that kind of busi-
ness better than he does ; and a third lends the money to a
merchant or a manufacturer to build for himself in the way that
will best suit his purpose. It is plain there can be no difference,
morally, between those three ways of investing capital.

No doubt advantage is often taken of a man's extreme
necessity, to demand high interest, and exact payment with
rigour. But it is equally true that advantage is taken in some
crowded town of a man's extreme need of a night's lodging.
And the interposition of the law in dealings between man and
man, except for the prevention of fraud, generally increases the
evil it seeks to remedy. A prohibition of interest, or — which
is only a minor degree of the same error — a prohibition of any
beyond a certain fixed rate of interest — has an efiect similar to
that of a like interference between the buyers and sellers of any
other commodity. If, for example, in a time of scarcity it were
enacted, on the ground that cheap food is desirable, that bread and
meat should not be sold beyond such and such a price, the result
would be that every one would be driven — unless he would sub-
mit to be starved — to evade the law ; and he would have to pay
for his food more than he otherwise would, to cover (1) the cost
of the contrivances for the evasion of the law, and (2) a com-
pensation to the seller for the risk, and also for the discredit, of
that evasion. Even so, a man who could have borrowed money
(which he needs, to extricate him from some difficulty) at ten
per cent., if all dealings were left free, has to pay for it, virtually
fifteen or twenty per cent, through some circuitous process.

But of all unwise interferences of governments, by far the
most noxious, and also the most plausible, and the hardest to be
got rid of, is religious intolerance. And this Bacon discount-
enances in his Essay on Religious Unity, protesting against
the " forcing of men's consciences." I am not quite sure, how-
ever, whether he fully embraced the principle that all secular

lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 169

coercion, small or great, in what regards religious faith, is con-
trary to the spirit of Christianity ; and that a man's religion,
as long as he conducts himself as a peaceable and good citizen,
does not fall within the province of the civil Magistrate. Bacon
speaks with just horror of " sanguinary persecutions." Now
any laws that can properly be called " sanguinary " — any undue
severity — should be deprecated in all matters whatever; as if,-
for example, the penalty of death should be denounced for steal-
ing a pin. But if religious truth does properly fall within the
province of the civil magistrate — if it be the office of govern-
ment to provide for the good of the subjects, universally, in-
cluding that of their souls, the rulers can have no more right
to tolerate heresy, than theft or murder. They may plead that
the propagation of false doctrine, — that is, what is contrary to
what they hold to be true, — is the worst kind of robbery, and
is a murder of the soul. On that supposition, therefore, the
degree of severity of the penalty denounced against religious
offences, whether it shall be death, or exile, or fine, or imprison-
ment, or any other, becomes a mere political question, just as in
the case of the penalties for other crimes.

But if, on the contrary, we are to understand and comply
with, in the simple and obvious sense, our Lord's injunction to
" render to Caesar the things that are Csesar's, and to God the
things that are God's;" and his declaration that his "kingdom is
not of this world;" and if we are to believe his apostles sincere
in renouncing, on behalf of themselves and their followers, all
design of propagating their faith by secular force, or of monopo-
lizing for Christians as such, or for any particular denomination
of Christians, secular power and political rights, then, all penal-
ties and privations, great or small, inflicted on purely religious
grounds, must be equally of the character of persecution (though
all are not equally severe persecution), and all alike unchristian.
Persecution, in short, is not wrong because it is cruel ; but it is
cruel because it is wrong.

In the Essay on Plantations [colonies] Bacon remarks
most justly that " it is a shameful and unblessed thing to

170 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.

take the scum of people, and wicked condemned men to be
the people with whom you plant;" and he adds that "it
spoileth the plantation." Yet two and a-half centuries after
his time, the English government, in opposition to the re-
monstrances of the enlightened and most emphatically ex-
perienced philanthropist, Howard, established its penal colonies
*in Australia, and thus, in the language of Shakspeare, " began
an impudent nation."

It is now above a quarter of a century since I began point-
ing out to the public the manifold mischiefs of such a system;
and with Bacon and Howard on my side, I persevered in
braving all the obloquy and ridicule that were heaped on me.
But successive ministries, of the most opposite political parties,
agreed in supporting what the most eminent Political econo-
mist of the present day had described as " a system begun in
defiance of all reason, and persevered in in defiance of all
experience."

Again, in the Essay on Praise, he says —

" Praise is the reflection of virtue, but it is as the glass, or body,
which giveth the reflection; if it be from the common people, it is
commonly false and naught, and rather followeth vain persons than
virtuous : for the common people understand not many excellent
virtues : the lowest virtues draw praise from them, the middle virtues
work in them astonishment or admiration ; but of the highest virtues
they have no sense or perceiving at all ; but shows and ' species vir-
tutibus similes' serve best with them. Certainly, fame is like a river,
that beareth up things light and swollen, and drowns things weighty
and solid : but if persons of quality and judgment concur, then it is (as
the scripture saith) 'Nomen bonum instar unguenti fragrantis ;' it
filleth all round about, and will not easily away; for the odours of
ointments are more durable tban those of flowers."

" LAUS, EXISTIMATIO.
" PRO. " CONTRA.

" Virtutis radii reflexi laudes. " Fama deterior judex, quam

" Praises are the reflected rays of nuncia.

virtue. " Common fame is a bad mes-

" Laus honor is est, ad quern senger, but a worse judge.
liberis suffragiis pervenitur.

lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 171

"PRO. " CONTRA.

" Praise is that kind of honor " Fama veluti fluvius, levia at-

which is conferred by free votes. tollit. solida mergit.

" Honores diverse a diversis " Fame, like a river, bears up

politiis conferuntur ; sed laudes what is light, and sinks what is solid.
ubique sunt libertatis. " Infimarum virtutum apud

" Honors are conferred differently vulgus laus est, mediarmn ad-

indifferent governments; but praises, rniratio, supremarum sensus nul-

every where by popular suffrage. lus.

* * * " The lowest of the virtues the

" Ne mireris, si vulgus verius vulgar praise ; the middle ones they

loquatur, quam honoratiores ; admire ; of the highest they have no

quia etiam tutius loquitur. perception"

" It is no wonder that the vulgar
sometimes speak more truly than
those of high place, because they
speak more safely.

What a pregnant remark is this last ! By the lowest of the
virtues he means probably such as hospitality, liberality, gra-
titude, good-humoured courtesy, and the like; and these he
says the common run of mankind are accustomed to praise.
Those which they admire, such as daring courage, and firm
fidelity to friends, or to the cause or party one has espoused,
are what he ranks in the next highest place. But the most
elevated virtues of all, such as disinterested and devoted public
spirit, thorough-going even-handed justice, and disregard of
unpopularity when duty requires, of these he says the vulgar
have usually no notion. And he might have gone further;
for it often happens that a large portion of mankind not only
do not praise or admire the highest qualities, but even censure
and despise them. Cases may occur in which, though you may
obtain the high approbation of a very few persons of the most
refined and exalted moral sentiments, you must be prepared to
find the majority (even of such as are not altogether bad men)
condemning you as unnatural, unkind, faithless, and not to be
depended on ; or deriding you as eccentric, crotchety, fanciful,
or absurdly scrupulous.

And this is the more likely to occur, because there are
many cases in which the same conduct may result either from

172 BACON'S ESSAYS. [LECt. vi.

the very highest motive, or from a base one ; and then, those of
the noblest character, and who are also cautious and intelligent,
will judge from your general conduct and character which mo-
tive to assign ; while those who are themselves strangers to
the highest principle, will at once attribute your acts to the
basest. For example, if you shrink from some daring or
troublesome undertaking which is also unjustifiable, this may
be either from cowardice or indolence, or from scrupulous
integrity : and the worse motive will be at once assigned by
those who have no notion of the better. If you are tolerant in
religion, this may be either from utter carelessness, like Gallio's,
or from a perception of the true character of the Gospel : and
those who want this latter, will be sure to attribute to you at
once the other. If you decline supporting a countryman against
foreigners when they have right on their side, or a friend
against a stranger, this may be either from indifference to your
country, or your friend, or from a strong love of justice ; and
those who have but dim views of justice will at once set you
down as unpatriotic or unfriendly. And so in many other
cases.

If, accordingly, you refuse to defend, or to deny, or to
palliate the faults of those engaged in a good cause, and if
you are ready to bear testimony to whatever there may be
that is right on the opposite side, you will be regarded by
many as treacherous, or lukewarm, or inconsistent.

If you advocate toleration for an erroneous faith, and pro-
test against forcing or entrapping, or bribing any persons into
the profession of a true one, many will consider you as yourself
either tainted with error, or indifferent about religious truth.
If, again, you consider a seat in Parliament, or any other place
you may occupy, or the power of appointing another to such a
place, as a sacred trust for the public service, and, therefore,
requiring sometimes the sacrifice of private friendship, — if you
do justice to an opponent against a friend, or to a worse man
(when he happens to have right on his side) against a better
— if you refuse to support your friends, or those you have been

lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 173

accustomed to act with, or those to whom you have a per-
sonal obligation, when they are about doing something that is
wrong, — if you decline making application in behalf of a
friend to those who would expect you to place your votes
and interest at their disposal, whether your own judgment
approved of their measures or not, — in these and other such
cases, you will be perhaps more blamed or despised by the
generality than commended or admired. For, party-men will
usually pardon a zealous advocate of their party for many great
faults, more readily than they will pardon the virtue of standing
quite aloof from party, and doing strict justice to all. It will
often happen, therefore, that when a man of very great real ex-
cellence does acquire great and general esteem, four-fifths of
this will have been bestowed on the minor virtues of his cha-
racter ; and four-fifths of his admirers will have either quite
overlooked the most truly admirable of his qualities, or else
regarded them as pardonable weaknesses.

You should guard, then, against the opposite dangers of
either lowering your own moral standard to the level of some of
your neighbours, or judging too hardly of them. Your general
practical rule should be, to expect more of yourself than of others.
Not that you should ever call wrong conduct right ; but you
should consider that that which would be a very great fault in
you, may be much less inexcusable in some others who have not had
equal advantages. You should be ready to make allowances for
want of clearness of understanding, or for defective education, or
for a want of the highest and best examples. Those may be really
trying to do their duty according to the best lights they have,
whose moral views are, on some points, as yet but dim and im-
perfect, and whose conduct, on the whole, falls far short of what
may fairly be expected — and will be expected — of one whose
moral judgment is more enlightened, and his standard of duty
more elevated.

In the Essay on Custom and Education, Bacon makes a
remark, which like very many others, he has elsewhere con-

174 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.

densed in Latin into a very brief and pithy Apophthegm:
"Cogitamus secundum Naturam; loquimur secundum prae-
cepta ; sed agimus secundum consuetudinem." " We think ac-
cording to our nature ; we speak as we have been instructed ; but
we act as we have been accustomed ;" or, as he has a little more
expanded it in the Essay, " Men's thoughts are much according
to their inclination [original disposition] ; their discourse and
speeches, according to their learning and infused opinions ; but
their deeds are after as they have been accustomed."

Of course, Bacon did not mean his words to be taken literally
in their utmost extent, and without any exception or modifica-
tion ; as if natural disposition, and instruction, had nothing to
do with conduct. And, of course, he could not mean anything
so self-contradictory as to say that all action is the result of
custom : for, it is plain that, in the first instance, it must be by
actions that a custom is formed.

But he uses a strong expression, in order to impress it on
our mind that, for practice, custom is the most essential thing,
and that it will often overbear both the original disposition, and
the precepts which have been learnt : that whatever a man may
inwardly think, and (with perfect sincerity) say, you cannot
fully depend on his conduct till you know how he has been accus-
tomed to act. For, continued action is like a continued stream of
water, which wears for itself a channel JfodX it will not easily be
turned from. The bed which the current had gradually scooped
at first, afterwards confines it.

Bacon is far from meaning, I conceive, when he says that
" men speak as they have learned " — to limit himself to the case
of insincere professions ; but to point out how much easier it is
to learn to repeat a lesson correctly, than to bring it into prac-
tice, when custom is opposed to it.

This is the doctrine of one whom Bacon did not certainly
regard with any undue veneration — Aristotle, who in his
Ethics, dwells earnestly on the importance of being early
accustomed to right practice, with a view to the formation of
virtuous habits. And he derives the word "Ethics," from a

lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 175

Greek word signifying custom ; even as the word " Morality "
is derived from the corresponding Latin word " Mos."

The power of custom in often, as Bacon remarks, prevailing,
when you come to action, over the inward sentiments, and the
sincere professions of opinion, is remarkably exemplified in the
case of soldiers, who have long been habituated to obey, as if by
a mechanical impulse, the word of command.

It happened, in the case of a contemplated insurrection in a
certain part of the British Empire, that the plotters of it sought
to tamper with the soldiers who were likely to be called out
against them ; and, for this purpose, frequented the public-
houses to which the soldiers resorted, and drew them into con-
versation. Reports of these attempts reached the officers ; who,
however, found that so little impression was made that they did
not think it needful to take any notice of them. On one occa-
sion it appeared that a serjeant of a Scotch regiment was so far
talked over as to feel and express great sympathy with the agi-
tators, on account of their alleged grievances, as laid before him
by the seducer. " Weel, now, I did na ken that ; indeed that
seems unco hard ; I can na wonder that ye should complain o'
that," &c, &c.

The other, seeking to follow up his blow, then said — " I
suppose now such honest fellows as you, if you were to be called
out against us, when we were driven to rise in a good cause,
would never have the heart to fire on poor fellows who were only
seeking liberty and justice." The serjeant replied (just as he
was reaching down his cap and belt, to return to barracks), " Vd
just na advise ye to try ! "

He felt conscious — misled as he had been respecting the
justice of the cause, — that, whatever might be his private
opinions and inward feelings, if the word of command were
given to " make ready, present, fire," he should instinctively
obey it.

And this is very much the case with any one who has been
long drilled in the ranks of a party. Whatever may be his
natural disposition — whatever may be the judgment his un-

176 bacon's ESSAYS. [LECT. vi.

biassed understanding dictates on any point — whatever he may
inwardly feel, and may (with perfect sincerity) have said, when
you come to action, it is likely that the habit of going along with
his party will prevail. And the more general and indefinite the
purpose for which the party, or society (or by whatever name it
may be called) is framed, and the less distinctly specified are its
objects, the more will its members be, usually, under the control
and direction of its leaders.

I was once conversing with an intelligent and liberal-minded
man, who was expressing his strong disapprobation of some late
decisions and proceedings of the leading persons of the Society
he belonged to, and assuring me that the greater part of the
subordinates regarded them as wrong and unjustifiable. " But,"
said I, " they will nevertheless, I suppose, comply, and act as
they are required ? " " Oh yes, they mast do that ! "

Of course, there are many various degrees of partizanship, as
there are also different degrees of custom in all other things :
and it is not meant that all who are in any degree connected
with any party must be equally devoted adherents of it. But I
am speaking of the tendency of party-spirit, and describing a
party-man so far forth as he is such. And persons of much ex-
perience in human affairs lay it down accordingly as a maxim,
that you should be very cautious how you fully trust a party-
man, however sound his own judgment, and however pure the
principles on which he acts, when left to himself. A sensible
and upright man, who keeps himself quite unconnected with
party, may be calculated on as likely to act on the views which
you have found him to take on each point. In some things, per-
haps, you find him to differ from you ; in others to agree ; but
when you have learnt what his sentiments are, you know in each
case what to expect. But it is not so with one who is connected
with, and consequently controlled by, a party. In proportion as
he is so, he is not fully his own master ; and in some instances
you will probably find him take you quite by surprise, by as-
senting to some course quite at variance with the sentiments
which you have heard him express — probably with perfect sin-

lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 177

cerity — as his own. When it comes to action, a formed habit
of following the party will be likely to prevail over everything.
At least, " Pdjust na advise ye to try!"

I wish I could feel justified in concluding without saying
anything of Bacon's own character ; — without holding him up
as himself a lamentable example of practice at variance with
good sentiments, and sound judgment, and right precepts.
He thought well, and he spoke well ; but he had accustomed
himself to act very far from well. And justice requires
that he should be held up as a warning beacon to teach all
men an important lesson ; to afford them a sad proof that no
intellectual power, — no extent of learning, — not even the most
pure and exalted moral sentiments confined to theory, will sup-
ply the want of a diligent and watchful conformity in practice
to christian principle. All the attempts that have been made to
vindicate or palliate Bacon's moral conduct, tend only to lower,
and to lower very much, the standard of virtue. He appears
but too plainly to have been worldly, ambitious, covetous, base,
selfish, and unscrupulous. And it is remarkable that the Mam-
mon which he served proved but a faithless master in the end.
He reached the highest pinnacle, indeed, to which his ambition
had aimed ; but he died impoverished, degraded, despised, and
broken-hearted. His example, therefore, is far from being at
all seductive.

But let no one, thereupon, undervalue or neglect the lessons
of wisdom which his writings may supply, and which we may,
through divine grace, turn to better account than he did him-
self. It would be absurd to infer, that because Bacon was a
great philosopher, and far from a good man, therefore you will
be the better man for keeping clear of his philosophy. His in-
tellectual superiority was no more the cause of his moral
failures, than Solomon's wisdom was of his. You may be as
faulty a character as either of them was, without possessing a
particle of their wisdom, and without seeking to gain instruction
from it. The intellectual light which they enjoyed did not, in-
"W. E. N

178 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.

deed, keep them in the right path ; but you will not be the
more likely to walk in it, if you quench any light that is af-
forded you.

The Canaanites of old, you should remember, dwelt in " a
good land, flowing with milk and honey," though they wor-
shipped not the true God, but served abominable demons, with
sacrifices of the produce of their soil, and even with the blood of
their children. But the Israelites were invited to go in, and
take possession of " well-stored houses that they builded not,
and wells which they digged not ; " and they " took the labours
of the people in possession ;" only, they were warned to beware
lest, in their prosperity and wealth, they should " forget the
Lord their God," and to offer to Him the first-fruits of their
land.

Neglect not, then, any of the advantages of intellectual cul-
tivation which God's providence has placed within your reach ;
nor " think scorn of that pleasant land ;" and prefer wandering
by choice in the barren wilderness of ignorance ; but let the
intellect which God has endowed you with be cultivated as a
servant to Him, and then it will be, not a master, but a useful
servant, to you.

LECTURE VII.

THE JEWS.

If any educated and intelligent person were asked what is
the most extraordinary nation that exists, or ever did exist, on
earth, he could hardly fail to answer that it is the People
commonly called Jews. Whether he were a Christian, or of
any other religious persuasion, or of none at all, he could not
but know that some most wonderful events have taken place in
that nation, and that they are now, and long have been, in an
extraordinary situation, quite different from that of any other
people. Moreover, the oldest book, by far, that exists, relates
in a very great degree to that people. And even if any one
should refuse to give any credit to the narratives in that book,
he must still admit that something not less wonderful than what
is there recorded must have befallen them. Should he give a
loose to his imagination, and frame conjectures as to what
might have occurred, according to his notions of the probable,
he would be unable to devise any history that should not abound
in wonders.

And again, the history of this People is, in a most impor-
tant point, closely connected with our own, and with that of the
whole civilized world. A believer and an unbeliever, in the
Gospel, cannot but agree in admitting that the christian reli-
gion does exist, and that it is with Jews that it originated. If
any one, not ignorant of history, were asked WHO was the most
remarkable person that ever existed, and who produced the most
important, and wonderful, and lasting changes in the world, he
could hardly fail — even though he were an Atheist — to answer,
that Jesus of Nazareth was that person. Rightly or wrongly,

n 3

180 THE JEWS.

[lect. VII.

a Jew did change the religion of all the most enlightened
portion of mankind.

I have spoken of the People " commonly called " Jews,
because, perhaps, in strictness, they ought rather to he desig-
nated as Israelites. For though it is probable that the
majority of them are actually of the Tribe of Judah, there is,
undoubtedly, a very large admixture of the other tribes. Be-
sides the small Tribe of Benjamin, in whose territory Jerusalem
stands, and which was always incorporated in the kingdom of
Judah, there is also the whole, or nearly the whole, of the
Tribe of Levi, who were connected with the service of the
Temple at Jerusalem, and who, on being deprived by Jeroboam,
King of Israel, of all their peculiar privileges, would naturally
settle in the territory of the kingdom of Judah.

And over and above all these, we read in the Book of Chroni-
cles, of great numbers from Ephraim, and the other tribes,
who joined the kingdom of Judah at sundry times. Jeroboam
having set up, and his successors continued, the idolatrous
worship of the golden calves, all his subjects who adhered to
the regular worship at Jerusalem, were thus led to enrol them-
selves as subjects of the kings of Judah. Hence, we find
mention in Luke's Gospel, of the Prophetess Anna, of the Tribe
of Assar. And great multitudes, no doubt, of those called
Jews, both at that time and now, were wholly or partly de-
scended from other tribes.

But Judah being the principal tribe, and the kingdom
receiving its name from that, it thus happened, very naturally,
that the designation of Jews came to be extended to all its
subjects.

I do not, of course, propose to give any thing like a full
account of this remarkable People ; nor shall I treat of several
doubtful points relative to them, which have often been dis-
cussed ; having no design at present to enter on controversies.
And I shall pass by also several curious speculations which do
not practically concern ourselves. But there are several points

LECT. VII.]

THE JEWS. 181

that are fully established, and generally known— though some-
times not sufficiently attended to— which do concern us, and
which therefore it may he both interesting and profitable to
bring before the mind, and dwell upon attentively.

In particular, there are many prophecies relating to the
Jewish People, which are of unquestioned antiquity, and some
of which appear to be receiving their fulfilment before our eyes
in the present day.

Among others, there are some very remarkable ones in the
book of the Prophet Ezekiel, particularly one in the 20th chap.
v. 32 — 34. Obscure as some portions of this Prophet's writings
confessedly are, the passage to which I am now calling your at-
tention is perfectly clear. " That which cometh into your mind
shall not be at all, that ye say we will be as the Heathen — as
the families of the countries, to serve wood and stone. As I
live, saith the Lord God, surely with a mighty hand, and with a
stretched-out arm, and with fury poured out, will I rule over
you: and I will bring you out from the people, and will
gather you out of the countries wherein ye are scattered, with a
mighty hand and a stretched-out arm, and with fury poured out."

This very remarkable passage (much more remarkable
than ordinary readers are aware) occurs in a book which
the Jews of the present day, as well as ourselves, acknow-
ledge to have been written by the Prophet Ezekiel, at a time
when his countrymen were greatly disposed to fall into the
idolatry of the nations around them, and for which, as well as
other sins, he repeatedly denounces the divine judgments against
them. This particular sin of idolatry had apparently reached
its height at the same time when Ezekiel wrote; and accordingly,
there is, perhaps, no one of the prophets who has so many and
so earnest censures and threats against it. And our Scriptures
give us very full accounts of the execution of the threats of
Moses and the prophets, — the judgments which fell on the rebel-
lious nation ; great part of which they had been actually under-
going at the time Ezekiel wrote. They predict the miseries the
Jews underwent from the invasion of enemies, the destruction of

182 THE JEWS. [lect. vn.

their city and temple by the Chaldeans, and the long captivity
of the nation. But the most remarkable circumstance is, that
this Prophet does not foretell (as one might have expected)
either that the nation should be entirely cut off, or that those of
them who remained should be mixed and altogether blended with
the heathen, and lose all distinction as God's peculiar People, so
as to be no more a separate nation ; but, on the contrary, that they
should still continue a distinct People, notwithstanding their own
endeavours (at the time when he (Ezekiel) wrote) to mix with
the Gentiles, and shake off all marks of separation ; that they
should still, in spite of themselves, be singled out as God's pe-
culiar People, though no longer his peculiarly favoured people ;
that He would still be in an especial manner their King, visiting
them with peculiar and heavy judgments, and distinguishing
them by these, as much as they had formerly been distinguished
by extraordinary blessings, from all other nations. " That which
cometh into your mind shall not be at all, that ye say we will
be as the Heathen, as the families of the countries," &c. &c.

The Jews in Ezekiel's time seem to have despised and ab-
horred their privilege of being the Lord Jehovah's peculiar people,
and to have wished to conform in all things to the practices of
the nations around them. [You should observe Heathens, Gen-
tiles, and Nations, are words originally all of the same meaning.]
The Jews then, I say, were desirous of being like the rest of the
world, serving idols of wood and stone, and casting off all those
distinctions which had kept them till then a separate nation;
sometimes dreaded, sometimes despised, and always disliked, by
their idolatrous neighbours. But the Prophet declares that this
design of theirs shall not take effect ; that Jehovah their King
will neither suffer them to follow their inclination, nor utterly
destroy them ; but will keep them his peculiar people whether
they will or not ; and as He formerly distinguished them by
blessings, so now He will govern them with severity ; — as He
wrought great deliverances for them, and brought them out of
Egypt with a mighty hand .... so now with a mighty hand,
and with fury poured out, He would rule over them.

LECT. VII.]

THE JEWS. 183

And to this day the unbelieving Jews are a separate people.
They themselves, I suppose, interpret the prophecy of Ezekiel
of the deliverance from the Babylonish captivity, and their re-
turn from that to their own land. But it must relate to some-
thing more than that ; for, their restoration to their own land
was an act of kindness and favour; whereas the Prophet plainly
points at their being separated from other nations by a govern-
ment of severity and chastisement : " Avith a mighty hand and
stretched-out arm, and with fury poured out will I rule over
you." But whether or not we understand the prophecy to have
related in part to the return from the Babylonish captivity, it
plainly foretells that the Jews never shall at any time be blended
and wholly lost as a nation among idolatrous people ; a thing
which to all human conjecture must have appeared extremely
probable at the time when Ezekiel wrote.

It is important to keep in mind that in order to establish the
claim of an alleged prophecy to a superhuman origin, four points
are requisite : —

1st. The prediction must clearly correspond with the event.

2nd. It must be clearly shown to have been delivered he-
fore the event.

3rd. It must not be within the reach of any human sagacity
(such, as for instance, the prediction of an eclipse by astro-
nomers).

4th, and lastly, it must be a prediction which could not it-
self cause its own fulfilment.

If, for instance, there were a prediction afloat, that such-
and-such a person should appear at a certain time and place,
and should say and do so-and-so, it might be in his own power
to fulfil that prediction; and it might be for his advantage
to do so.

In all these points the prediction now before us will be found
to establish its truly prophetical character.

Nothing, as I have just said, could be, humanly speaking,
more probable, at the time when Ezekiel wrote, than the com-
plete blending of the Jews with idolatrous nations. Ezekiel

184 THE JEWS. [lect. vn.

however, prophesied that this never should take place: and it
never has, to this day. After their return from the Bahylonish
captivity, they appear to have fallen no more into the idolatry
which they had before been so much addicted to; and though
guilty of many enormous sins, always maintained with the most
scrupulous reverence the letter of the Law of Moses ; as they
endeavour to do to this time. And yet the fury poured out on
them as a nation is very observable. While the Temple of
Solomon stood, they profaned even that holy place itself with
Idolatry ; ever since its destruction they have abstained from
Idolatry; for above 1800 years they have had no Temple — no
city — no country ; they cannot offer the sacrifices which the
Law of Moses directs, because it is forbidden them to do so ex-
cept at the Temple at Jerusalem — the place last chosen by the
Lord to " set his Name there." — [Deut. xii. 13.]

Yet still they observe the Mosaic Law, as far as they are
able, with the most scrupulous exactness. In all that long
period, since the destruction of their city by the Romans, they
have not only enjoyed no extraordinary providence in their
favour as a nation, but have been insulted and persecuted in
various parts of the world, driven from place to place as home-
less wanderers ; and remarkable as they were of old for their
warlike spirit, not only when the Lord of Hosts gave them vic-
tory in the battle, but in their obstinate, though fruitless,
resistance to the Romans, yet since the destruction of their city,
though often exposed to bitter persecutions, and that too in
countries where they were very numerous, they have seldom
or never attempted the slightest resistance ; but (in the words
of Bishop Heber) : —

" In dumb despair their country's wrongs behold,
And dead to glory, only burn for gold."

When Mahomet first set up his religion, after having in vain
invited the Jews to adopt it, which very few of them did, he ap-
pealed to the sword, and challenged them to take the field in the

lect. vn.] THE JEWS. 185

cause of their faith against him and his followers ; but though
in some regions of the East they are reckoned to amount to a
quarter of the population, they generally refused to try the
event of battle ; but submitted and still submit to be upbraided
by the Mahometans both as infidels and as cowards, and to be
oppressed and loaded with every kind of indignity, which they
bear with a patient stubbornness that is truly wonderful. But
any one may observe, even from a view of the comparatively
small number of them scattered through our own country, how
exactly their situation agrees both with the prophecy of Ezekiel
and with those of Moses in the Book of Deuteronomy ; especi-
ally in Chapter 28 : " Thou shalt become an astonishment, a
proverb, and a by- word among all nations whither the Lord shall
lead thee, and among these nations [' the wilderness of the peo-
ple,' as Ezekiel has it,] thou shalt find no ease, neither shall
the sole of thy foot have rest."

What is as remarkable, perhaps, as anything is, that all
this is denounced by Moses against them as a judgment for dis-
obeying the Law he delivered ; and yet the Jews of the present
day are particularly strict in (what they consider) the observ-
ance of the Mosaic Law ; and what is more, seem to suffer all
the indignities they are exposed to, in consequence of their ad-
hering to that Law : since any one of them has only to renounce
Judaism and conform to the religion of the country he lives in,
and he is immediately blended with the general mass of the
people, and no longer distinguished as a Jew.

Now this ought to put a Jew of any candour upon consider-
ing how it can be that the very punishments denounced against
their nation as a judgment for disobeying the Mosaic law should
be actually inflicted on them for conforming to it. And this
would lead him, perhaps, to perceive that they are not really
conforming to the law of Moses, though they pretend and think
they are, but are in fact apostates from the religion which they
are supposing themselves to be so steadily maintaining. For
the very end and object and fulfilment of all the other ob-
servances of the Law, is the Messiah or Christ — the prophet

186 THE JEWS. [lect. vn.

whom Moses declared the Lord their God should raise up among
them like unto him [Moses]. " Him shall ye hear, and whoso-
ever will not hear that prophet, shall be cut off."

This they themselves allow, and are waiting to this day for
the coming of the Christ, whom they will not believe to have
been Jesus. But they themselves would admit that to reject
the Messiah or Christ, on his coming, would be to reject the
Mosaic law; and therefore, since their nation is actually suf-
fering the judgments threatened for rejecting the Mosaic law,
this should lead them to conclude that they have rejected Messiah.

And again, if a Jew were to reflect candidly on the strict-
ness with which his nation observe, and have long observed,
numerous precepts and religious rites instituted by Moses,
wondering at the same time that still no deliverance should
be afforded them, this might lead him to reflect that the most
important of all those observances, the sacrifices in the temple
(which made up the main part of the Jewish religion), are not
kept up. This, he would say, is not their fault, since they
have no temple. But to say that their not observing this law
is no fault of theirs, does not alter the fact, that it is not ob-
served ; and the Christian would tell him that all these sacri-
fices were figures and representations of the great sacrifice of
Jesus, which was accordingly intended to put an end to all
those offerings under the Law, and to be the effectual substi-
tute for them ; so that the way to comply with the precepts
of Moses concerning the offering of sacrifices, is to trust in the
great Atonement of Christ crucified ; and, instead of slaying
the paschal lamb, to feast at the Lord's table on those memo-
rials which He appointed, of the sacrifice of the true " Lamb
of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." And this,
God has declared to the Jews, if they would open their eyes
and ears, by his having abolished completely the sacrifices of
beasts in the temple, through the destruction of the temple
itself, which makes it absolutely impossible to comply with
the most important part of the law of Moses in any other way
than that in which Christians say it ought to be complied with.

lect. vn.] THE JEWS. 187

The Jew will not conform to this part of the law of Moses in
the manner in which we say he ought, and he cannot — through
the destruction of the temple — conform to it in any other way.
Christians, or those of any persuasion except the Jewish,
could, if expelled from their country, still celebrate the rites
of their religion. It is only to Jews that this is impossible.
Why God's providence has rendered it impossible to the Jews,
through the destruction of their temple, to obey literally the
principal part of the Law which He enjoined them to obey,
let them explain in any other way if they can.

Although, however, the Jewish prophecies, now that they
are fulfilled, appear conformable to the events predicted, and
though we perceive that the Jewish notion of a temporal and
triumphant Christ, and of the subjection of all nations to the
Jews-by-race, is at variance with those prophecies which speak
of a suffering Christ, and of the call of the Gentiles to be God's
people ; still, we know that all this was not understood by the
Jews, even those of them who became the disciples of Jesus, till
He had " opened their understanding that they might understand
the Scriptures," saying, " Thus it is written, and thus it behoved
the Christ to suffer, and to rise from the dead the third day."

And some may wonder why all this had not been so plainly
declared that all might have known beforehand what sort of
a kingdom they were to expect, so that, when Jesus came,
they might have been prepared to receive his Gospel.

Now, it would certainly be unbecoming God's creatures to
demand, or to expect to obtain, in all cases, a full explanation
of all his dealings with Man. But this much we can perceive ;
that if the promised Saviour, when He came, had corresponded
exactly with all the expectations and hopes which the Jews
had been so long and so fondly cherishing, a reception of the
Gospel would have been in a manner forced upon them all,
without affording any trial of their candour in inquiry, and
their humble faith in God. And this forcing of the truth on
men's understanding by such evidence as the most perverse
and prejudiced could not withstand, seems contrary to the

188 THE JEWS. [lect. vii.

system on which (for whatever reason) God's providence has
manifestly always proceeded, in what relates to moral and
religious truths.

But, now, let us consider what advantage we may derive
in respect of the evidence of our faith, from reflecting on the
state of mind of the Jews at the time our Lord appeared.

If He and his Gospel had corresponded with their interpre-
tation of the prophecies, and had consequently been readily
and gladly received by the greater part of the nation, would
there not have been room for a lurking suspicion that too
easy credit was given to the account of his miracles? — that a
people, so credulous as the Jews were at that time, were de-
luded, partly by their imagination, and partly by their ready
reception of feigned and exaggerated tales? We know that
such things have often taken place, both formerly and in our
own times ; that accounts of miracles are received with very
little inquiry among ignorant people, who are predisposed to
admit the pretensions of those to whom the miracles are attri-
buted. Even the testimony of the senses is not always to be
relied on, in the case of weak and superstitious men, when
under strong prejudice.

But what is the actual case? Through their interpretation
of the prophecies, all the wishes and expectations — all the pre-
judice— all the weak credulity of the Jews were enlisted against
Jesus and his apostles. They were prepared to resist to the
utmost all the evidence in his favour ; and when they could
not deny the miracles they witnessed, were driven to the most
absurd explanations of them, as wrought by magic, and through
the agency of demons1.

Thus has Providence afforded us the overwhelming tes-

' This is the account given by the I as form a complete contrast to the chris-
Jews themselves, in that very ancient I tian miracles. In every instance the

work called the Toldoth Jescha.

It is remarkable that when any Jews
or other anti -christians attempt to find a
parallel to the christian Narratives, in
Pagan Mythology, or Romish Legends,
the cases they adduce are always such

miraculous narratives have been received
by a people predisposed to believe them,
and have not been the foundation of
their religion, but resting on the religion
for reception.

lect. vn.] THE JEWS. 189

timony of adversaries. Thus does the credulous weakness of
those adversaries supply strength to our cause. The former
unbelief, as. well as the present condition of the Jews, makes
them unanswerable witnesses for the Gospel.

And let any infidel explain, if he can, how that extraordi-
nary nation came to be, and to have been so long, in such a
strange condition. They are to this day a standing miracle ;
a monument of the fulfilment of prophecy, and a sample of
God's judgments ; kept in existence, and kept separate from
all other people, among whom they are scattered, by the
" mighty hand and out-stretched arm " of God : despised and
oppressed, and utterly ruined as a nation ; yet still, as far as
ever from being extirpated or lost. They have been compared
to the burning bush which Moses saw in the wilderness, which
burned with fire, yet was not consumed. Thinned as they
must have been by the prodigious slaughter of the Romans,
and fugitives without a country ever since ; and thinned also
by the great numbers who embraced the Gospel, who amounted,
even in Paul's time, to many myriads ' in Jerusalem alone, they
are calculated to be at this time not less numerous than the
whole nation of Israel in the days of Solomon !

I am acquainted with one very ingenious person — an infidel,
or nearly so — at least a sceptic — one who is not fully con-
vinced of the truth of our religion — -^\\q acknowledged to me
that, though he could see objections to the other arguments
commonly used in favour of Christianity, the case of the Jews,
i. e. their present state, considered along with their past history,
completely perplexed him. He could not conceive in what way to
account for this wonderful state of things, on the supposition of
our Scriptures not being true.

Those who resolve (as is the case with some writers in our
time) to admit nothing that is not, according to their notions,
probable, must, in this instance, refuse to believe what is before
their eyes.

1 Our version has " thousands ;" but in the original, it is " tens of thousands."

190 THE JEWS. [lect. vn.

Nations without number have indeed before now been sub-
dued by their enemies. Some have lived under the govern-
ment of their conquerors, and generally mixed with those
conquerors ; some have been dispersed into other lands, and
mixed with the people of those lands, so that their name has
been lost. These, our islands, have been possessed by Britons,
by Gaels, by Saxons, partially by Danes, and by Normans ;
but all are now, and have long been, blended together; no
one can point out which are descended from which of those
nations ; the very language we speak is a mixture of all theirs
together. No nation but the Je .vs have been dispersed into all
lands without settling in any that they could call their own,
and yet retained their remarkable system of religion wherever
they have gone.

That wandering race which we call Gipsies, are those who,
in some points, come the nearest to the case of the Jews ; but
in the most important and remarkable points the cases are quite
different.

That people have been, not long since, fully made out to be
a race of Hindoos, some of whom are still left in our East
Indian territories ; they are properly called Zingaries or Chin-
garies ; they have a peculiar language, which has been found to
be a dialect of the Hindoo ; they are wanderers in most parts of
the world, and generally found unmixed with other races. So
far the two cases are alike ; but it is much less wonderful that
these Zingaries should be kept unmixed, because they live in
tents in the open fields, and mix very little in the multitude of
the great towns, so that they are not in the way of becoming
one people with those who lead so different a life from them ;
whereas, the Jews frequent exclusively crowded cities, and live
in houses, and engage in trades, in the midst of persons of other
nations : it is only their religion that keeps them distinct.

But the grand difference is, that the Zingaries, or Gipsies,
so far from maintaining a peculiar religion, and suffering per-
secution for it, are always ready to profess the religion of any
country where they are living; they appear to have little or no

lect. vii.] THE JEWS. 191

sense of religion in reality; but never make any scruple of
calling themselves Mahometans, or Romanists, or Protestants, if
required, according to the country in which they are.

The Jews, on the contrary, profess and steadily adhere to a
religion which has often brought persecution on them — a re-
ligion which is the very thing that keeps them separate from all
other people ; not, as in the case of the Gipsies, their mode
of life ; — a religion whose sacred books they carry with them
with extreme reverence wherever they wander; and which
books contain prophecies of the very banishment and disgrace to
which their nation is now subjected, as well as of the Christ
whom they are still expecting, but whom Christians see in the
Lord Jesus. These prophecies, therefore, which the Jews hold
in reverence, bear witness against themselves, when they are in
a christian country ; since they are unable to explain (though
we can) why they who boast of being God's peculiar people,
should be exposed to so severe a judgment, unless it be for the
sin of rejecting the promised Messiah. Yet, still, they rever-
ence these books, and bear witness in an unanswerable manner
to their being at. least ancient books, and not forged by Chris-
tians ; and still, with these prophecies in their hands, they refuse
to embrace the Gospel ; they wander " in the wilderness of the
people" (as Ezekiel expresses it), fugitives in the midst of
populous nations ; even as their fathers wandered in the Wil-
derness of Sinai ; and both, for the same cause ; because, when
invited, they refused to enter " into the rest " which the Lord had
provided for them. Their fathers would not enter into the land
of Canaan when commanded ; and were sentenced to wander in the
wilderness forty years ; and their descendants would not enter
into the spiritual kingdom of God, which Canaan represented,
and they are still wandering " in the wilderness of the people.''

Jews are found in pagan countries, in Mahometan countries,
and in various christian countries ; but everywhere they are
fulfilling the prediction of the prophet Balaam, which was con-
firmed and extended by Ezekiel's — " the people shall dwell
alone, and shall not be numbered among the nations."

192 THE JEWS.

[LEC1T. VII.

Now let infidels, I say, explain all this if they can ; and let
Christians meditate upon it, and humbly praise God for having
been pleased to afford us so strong a proof of the truth of his
Gospel, even in the very circumstance of the obstinate unbelief
of those to whom it was first preached, and who were once his
favoured People. Blind as they are to the truths before them,
they may be of use to enlighten us. They are like the burning-
glass, which, unwarmed itself by the sun's rays that pass through
it, serves to collect those rays, and to kindle by their power the
object on which it throws them. Their own faith is dead; it is
the corpse of a departed revelation ; but it is like the bones of
the prophet Elijah, which, though still remaining lifeless them-
selves, revived the dead corpse of him who was laid upon them :
their dead and decayed religion may impart new life to ours.

It is a remarkable circumstance that the Jews expect, that,
under the reign of the Messiah, the Gentiles shall be converted
to a true religion (though not made equal to the Jews-by-birth),
and shall apply to the Jews for religious instruction. I once
had much conversation with a well-informed Jew, who cited to
me the prophetical passage from Zechariah viii. 23 : " Ten men
shall take hold, out of all languages of the nations, even shall
take hold of the skirt of him that is a Jew, saying, We will go
with vou ; for we have heard that God is with you." It seemed
to have never occurred to him that this prophecy has been
fulfilled. All the books of the New Testament, which are
what we Gentiles rely on, were written by Jews. Jesus and his
Apostles were Jews ; it was by Jewish peasants and fishermen
that the religion of the civilized world was changed.

Some Christians, as well as the Jews of this day, look for-
ward to a further fulfilment of that prophecy, to come hereafter.
Whether this is to be so or not, is a matter of opinion, and one
on which opinions differ ; but that there has been a fulfilment
of the prophecy, is a matter, not of opinion, but of undeniable
and notorious fact. And the delivery and the fulfilment of that,
and of the other prophecies concerning the Jews, is what cannot
be explained by any unbeliever in Christianity.

lect. vn.] THE JEWS. 193

Explain to me (you may say to one who urges doubts and
difficulties against the Gospel), explain to me first, before you
bring any objections against our religion, the past history, and
present condition of the Jews. There is nothing like the case
in all the world, nor ever was. You must allow it to be, at
least, singular and remarkable ; point out by what natural
causes it might have come about: why have these things be-
fallen the Jews? and why did they never befall any other
people ? And how came the prophets to foretell anything so
unlikely? And when you get a satisfactory answer to these
questions, you may then listen to whatever objections may be
brought against the Gospel. But the questions are what we
may be very sure no infidel can ever answer ; or else surely they
would have been answered long before now.

There are several questions, (as I saicl at the beginning,)
relative to the Jewish nation , that are of a doubtful character,
and altogether speculative, as far as we are concerned, having
no reference to our practice. One of the questions relates to
descendants of that portion of what are called the ten Tribes,
who were carried away captive.

Some believe that a remnant of these will one day be dis-
covered, and will be brought back to their own former land.
Others think that there is no different dispensation designed
for those ten Tribes as distinguished from the rest, but that all
are to be blended together as one people, — as was distinctly
declared to Ezekiel, (ch. 37,) who was commanded by the Lord
to take two sticks, and write on one of them " for Judah and for
the children of Israel, his companions :" and on the other, " for
Joseph, the stick of Ephraim, and the children of Israel, his
companions, and join them one to another, and they shall
become one stick in thine hand." And he was told to explain
to the People that the Lord would gather together all the
Israelites, and they should be no more two nations, but one.

And, accordingly, the Apostle Paul speaks (Acts xxvi.) of
the "twelve Tribes serving God" in his time; and James ad-

W. E. 0

194 THE JEWS. [lect. vn.

dresses his epistle to the twelve Tribes. And in the opening of
the Lecture I reminded you of the narrative in Chronicles, of
the junction of large bodies of the several Tribes to the
kingdom of Judah.

But the whole question is, as I have said, merely a specu-
lative one ; since, if there does exist some remnant of the ten
Tribes that is hereafter to be restored to the Holy Land, we
are not required either to assist or to oppose them.

And the same may be said of the recovery, — which some
persons expect, — of Jerusalem by the Jewish nation, and the
rebuilding of their Temple. We, at all events, are nowhere
commanded either to aid such an attempt, or to oppose it : so
that the question, though it may be a practical one to the
Jews, is, to us, one of mere speculative curiosity.

We are, indeed, assured that there is to be no religious
distinction between believing Jews and Gentiles ; — no spiritual
superiority in the children of Abraham after the flesh. For
the Apostle Paul declares, most expressly, that " in Christ
Jesus there is neither Jew nor Greek, Barbarian, Scythian,
bond or free; but Christ is all, and in all;" and he says
elsewhere, writing to Gentiles, " if ye are Christ's, then are ye
Abraham; 's seed, and heirs according to the promise : " and he
calls Christians " the Israel of God."

But as for a temporal restoration of the Jewish nation, that
is a doubtful question, and one on which learned and pious
Christians are divided : and it is a question of no practical im-
port to us1.

There is, indeed, even an attraction, to some minds, in
curious speculations, connected with religion, but which are
not practical; — which afford the satisfaction of feeling that
one is piously occupied, while at the same time there is no
call for troublesome exertion, — for vigilant care, — for laborious
effort to learn or to do something : but somewhat the kind of
gratification that is derived from a beautiful Poem, or a fine

1 See Lectures on a Future State. The Lecture on the Expected Restoration of
the Jews, may be had separate.

lect. yh.J THE JEWS. 195

piece of Sacred Music. But without passing any censure on
such speculations, we must admit that the first place in point .
of importance, belongs to what is practical and useful. I have
accordingly been endeavouring (as I said in the outset) to
turn your attention profitably to some well-established points
which do practically concern ourselves. The confirmation which
is afforded to the truth of the Gospel by the contemplation of
the history, and present state, of the Jews, is completely within
the reach of the plainest Christian who can but read his Bible,
and who will but be at pains to reflect a little on what he
reads, and also on what is passing around him. And let not
his reflections come to a close as soon as he is fully convinced
of the truth of the Gospel. The Jews, not only serve as a
proof to us, but also as an example, and a sign, and a warning.
" These things" (says Paul, of the ancient transactions of the
nation) " these things happened unto them for examples, and
they are written for our admonition ;" and surely the things
which have happened since Paul's time are not the less fit
to answer the same purpose. The Jews, by displaying God's
mercy, and also his severity, towards that nation as a nation,
in respect of the things of this world, admonish us what each
single individual among Christians has to expect with regard
to the things of the next world. They afford a specimen, by
way of proof, of the plan of God's dealings with Man. They
teach us that it is not some part of those who enjoy the
light of the Gospel, but all of them, whether they listen to
the call or not, that are God's elect, chosen, peculiar People ;
since not some only, but the whole Jewish nation were God's
elect of old. \_Elect and chosen, you should observe, are trans-
lations of the same word in the original.] They teach us,
again, that he who trusts in the privilege of being one of
God's Elect, and thinks his salvation sure on that ground,
without striving to " walk worthy of the vocation wherewith
he is called," is in the same error with those Jews who thought
" to say within themselves, we have Abraham to our Father,"
and who were punished even the more severely on account of

03

196 THE JEWS. [lect. to.

their being God's People, for not " bringing forth fruits meet
for repentance." They teach us that God's mercy is indeed
to be relied on by those who embrace his offers, but not by
those who are deaf to them. Those have only to expect his
severity. That He is mighty to save, and gracious, and faith-
ful to his promises, and long suffering, the Jews afford a
proof. That He can, and will, punish, when He has declared
that He will, of this also the Jews afford a proof. The Gospel
holds out not temporal, but eternal rewards and punishments.
The temporal rewards and punishments of the Jewish Nation
are samples of the divine government of all men : and the
Christian in proportion as he has a far more glorious — a
heavenly Canaan, set before him, and a far brighter reve-
lation bestowed on him, must look for the heavier judgments
also in the next world, in case of his neglecting those advan-
tages. " He that despised Moses' Law," (as we read in the
Epistle to the Hebrews,) " died without mercy under two or
three witnesses ; of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye,
shall he be thought worthy who hath trodden under foot the
Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant where-
with he was sanctified an unholy thing, and hath done despite
unto the Spirit of Grace." " Wherefore," (says the same
Epistle,) " to day if ye will hear his voice, — even while it is
called to-day, lest any of you be hardened through the deceit-
fulness of sin, — to-day if ye will hear his voice, harden not
your hearts, as in the provocation, and temptation in the wilder-
ness,— lest He swear in his wrath that ye shall not enter into
his eternal rest."

LECTURE VIII.

ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS OF A
LITTLE LEARNING.

[N.B. — This Lecture was delivered at Cork in the year 1852, as
introductory to a course of Lectures, by several hands.}

It is, I trust, sufficiently understood that it is not my pur-
pose to deliver one of that course of lectures which it is proposed
to have delivered in connexion with the Exhibition ; but only to
make a few prefatory observations as an introduction to those
lectures which are about being delivered by persons more com-
petent, in their respective departments, than myself.

The proposed lectures should be considered as emanating
from — as the offspring of — the National Exhibition; and, in
fact, may be considered as a subsidiary and necessary portion of
it. These lectures do not undertake or pretend to give a course
of education in any one particular department, any more than
the collection of manufactures and articles viewed this day,
should be considered as a warehouse, rather than a sample of
what Nature and Art were capable of producing in this country.
Such an exhibition, I take it, would be unfinished and incom-
plete unless some specimens were also exhibited of what could
be done, in the way of instruction, by those whom the country
could produce to give that instruction to the nation. Of all the
instruments which are exhibited in the collection I have in-
spected in the course of the day, there is none so important
as a good instructor. The flax, growing in the field, is not more
different from the finest and most finished cambric than an
ignorant man is from a well informed man. The proposed

198 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS [lect. vra.

lectures are not intended to furnish full instruction in any one
department, but merely as a specimen of what may be done in
the way of imparting information — to show what lectures can do
to those who are disposed to resort to and profit by them.

The National Exhibition has not been got up, as far as I can
observe and collect, from any spirit of rivalry or jealousy against
the Great Exhibition in London last year — but it has been got
up in a spirit of honest and laudable emulation ; not to show
how well Ireland can get on without England and the rest of
the world, but to show how worthy Ireland is to be included
in the industrious nations of the world, and how worthy it is to
form a portion of the British empire. And as there has been
no feeling of jealousy exhibited in getting up this Exhibition,
so I hope no feeling of low narrow-mindedness or base jealousy
will be excited in England against it. If the English should
see as much to be admired as I have seen this day, I conceive
the natural effect will be congratulation to the Irish, and in-
creased emulation amongst the English. I think I may say
that the National Exhibition, if not more admirable than the
Great Exhibition, may be called more surprising, considering
the circumstances under which each was got up.

What I say respecting Ireland as a part of the British Em-
pire— and my desire has always been to see Ireland considered
a worthy member of the Empire— is no new sentiment with me,
and has not been taken up for the present occasion, nor since
my coming to this country ; but, is the sentiment which my
most intimate friends could bear witness of as being mine from
the time I have been able to form an opinion on a public sub-
ject. It has always been my wish that Ireland should be con-
sidered as a really integral portion of the British empire, and as
such admitted to take its place with all the others, and not to be
considered as a province or a dependency of the Empire, but as
much a part of it as Yorkshire or any other portion of the
Kingdom. I may be mistaken as to what would conduce to the
welfare of England and the welfare of this country; but, there
is not an Englishman nor an Irishman who has more at heart

lect. vra.] OF A LITTLE LEARNING. 199

the welfare of the Kingdom, or any portion of the British Empire,
than I have. And it has always appeared to me — if any one
thinks me mistaken, I trust he will, at all events, accord me
credit for sincerity in what I say, — that the narrow policy of
separating England from Ireland, and setting forth their in-
terests as inimical and antagonistic, and exciting the feelings of
the people against each other, savours of barbarism, and is in
effect, bringing them back to the days of the Heptarchy. I
would never join in the cry of "Ireland for the Irish;" nor
would I join in the cry of "England for the English" — which is
only the second part of the same tune. If you adopted such a
plan, they would then have the cry of " Cork for Corkmen "
and " Dublin for Dubliners," and thus you would be narrowing
yourselves into cities, and towns, and clans, until all would
relapse into a state of semi-barbarism, such as is to be found
in New Zealand and Africa. I am confident that the prosperity
of Ireland will always be reflected on England, and that the pros-
perity and wealth and tranquillity of the latter will reach the
former. I have always considered the two countries as two
brothers — the best and most useful friends when united ; but the
bitterest and worst enemies when disunited. These are not
sentiments taken up for the present occasion, but sentiments
which I have always, felt and expressed openly from the period
I was first able to form and express an opinion.

Lectures, something of the same character, only of a more
continuous and prolonged course, and having the character of
being in connection with a more permanent institution, than
those about being delivered in this hall, were established several
years ago at Manchester, and also at Edinburgh ; and on the es-
tablishment of those lectures, and of a library and museum, I
was invited to attend the opening. I did attend at Manchester,
and subsequently at Edinburgh ; and on both occasions ex-
pressed my warm approbation of their proceedings, and a hearty
wish for their success ; and for so doing, I and those other per-
sons who had taken a part in the proceedings, were reviled and
ridiculed, by a certain portion of the Press, with the bitterest

200 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS [lect. vra.

derision. It is not for me to say how far that portion of the
Press was actuated by a wish to repress and circumscribe the
spread of education among the people ; but, for some reason or
another — as I presume there was a reason for doing it — we were
most bitterly reviled and maligned. Those who did so put forth
grounds in justification of their conduct, which, as far as I could
understand them resolved themselves into two reasons. First,
they said, this was a plan for imparting knowledge, not neces-
sarily connected with religion and morality, nor under the con-
trol or supervision of the teachers of morality and religion ; and
as the lecturers were not under the control of spiritual teachers,
the more able and instructive these lecturers were, the more
they would be enabled to corrupt the mind of the learner, and
the more dangerous they might make him. The second objec-
tion was to what might be called " the dangers of smattering "
— the dangers of "a little learning." They said the people
would be the worse for having a slight knowledge — " a little
learning " imparted to them.

On those two objections I shall make a few observations.
— The lectures which were established at Manchester and at
Edinburgh, five or six years ago, like those lectures that are
about being established here, did not contain, as a portion
of them, moral and religious instruction ; and therefore they
were represented as dangerous. Now, in all the works I have
written I have warned men against the danger of neglecting
a moral and religious education, and against any undue pre-
ponderance being given to secular instruction without a duly
proportionate attention being devoted to morality and religion.
And I pointed out that the same amount of moral and re-
ligious cultivation which would be sufficient for a very ignorant
clown, should not be considered a fair proportion for those
who had received a higher degree of secular cultivation. That
which would be the tithe of a small produce should not be
offered as tithe of a larger one. But you should remember
that while these lectures are being delivered, there is no defi-
ciency of religious and moral instruction elsewhere, be it good

lect. via.] OF A LITTLE LEARNING. 201

or bad. There are sermons to be heard from persons of all
religious denominations, which are, in fact, lectures on religion
and morality, from which persons may, if they so please, derive
moral instruction; and it would be as improper if in those
sermons allusion were made to agriculture, chemistry, or the
fine arts, as if in lectures on chemistry, agriculture, or the
fine arts, the lecturer were to inculcate morality and religion.
As to any compulsory system of religious teaching I have
always been opposed to it, both on principle and on grounds
of expediency. We have no right to force upon any person
religious or moral instruction; for, as Shakespere said of
mercy, its quality

" is not strained.

It droppeth like the gentle rain from Heaven,
Upon the place beneath."

But all we can do to provide against the danger of neglecting
the moral and religious cultivation of the mind, is, to warn
man of the danger of such neglect ; and when we have done
that, we have done all we can do. It would be useless, and
worse than useless, to force moral instruction on a person as a
condition of his receiving a secular education.

But you will be told by some that ci they only wish secular
education to be under the control of those who have the
spiritual guidance of the persons receiving such secular educa-
tion;" that " those spiritual directors should have a veto upon
everything which has reference to the secular education; be-
cause," they add, " the lecturer on geology might, in the course
of his address, insinuate false and mischievous notions in re-
gard to religion and morality ; and therefore the entire control
of the secular education should be placed under the guidance
and superintendence of the spiritual guides of the people."

Now, as to the danger in question, I will not deny that it is
possible for a teacher of some branch of secular learning to
introduce false religious notions, and mischievous and dangerous
moral principles. But I do not think there is any adequate

202 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS [LEct. vui.

safeguard against such danger, except to warn men against
it, and to tell them to teach merely geology, mathematics,
chemistry, agriculture, &c, in their respective departments ;
but, in so doing, to take care that they do not insinuate any-
thing against religious and moral principles. For if you go be-
yond this precaution, there is a danger on the opposite side. If
you leave the teaching of geology and mathematics to the spirit-
ual teachers of the people, you may find that these may make
as great errors as the others, by teaching false philosophical
principles. "What a different kind of danger!" it maybe
said. " Suppose a man did imbibe some false notions of phi-
losophy— how trifling is this in comparison with his imbibing
false religious and dangerous moral principles." " May not a
man," they continue, lt be a good Christian although a bad
chemist? May not a man be a good Christian although he
believe the sun goes round the earth." Now this I hold to be
altogether an erroneous view of the case. You will perceive on
reflection that the danger is nearly the same, and not less, but
greater. False philosophical notions indeed, conveyed by pro-
fessors who are the spiritual teachers of the people, if given
merely as their own private opinions, as individuals, and not
as interwoven with their religious teaching, are no greater
evil than if taught by any one else. But it is not so with
errors in science when represented as connected with reli-
gion. Although errors in chemistry and physics are in them-
selves insignificant when compared with the danger of wrong
notions in religion and morality, there is danger of persons
being taught certain erroneous notions of philosophy as a
part of their religion, and by that means having a lever placed
under their religious principles which will upheave and over-
turn them. True, a man may be a good Christian and a
moral man, though he believe that the sun moves round the
earth. But, suppose that man was taught, as a part of divine
revelation, and an essential point of his faith, that the sun
really does move round the earth, then, when it is demonstrated
to him that such is not the fact, he thus is led to believe that
1

lect. vm.] OP A LITTLE LEARNING. 203

he has got a system of wrong notions as his religious faith, and
he "will be inclined to doubt it all.

I will give an instance which came under my own knowledge
in the discussion of a question of physical truth as connected
with religious and moral truth. There was, some twenty years
ago, a reviewer, who, in a review of a work (in the Westminster
Review) contended that it was impossible any revelation could
have been made to Man, because, according to the reviewer,
in the second book of Chronicles, it appeared from a descrip-
tion of the temple, that the Jews did not know that the
diameter of a circle differed from a third of its circumference.
The answer to this argument is simple. For, first, it was not
clear that the Jews were ignorant of the fact that the diameter
of a circle differed from a third part of its circumference ; and
secondly, even if they were ignorant of that geometrical truth,
it did not follow that they could not have had a revelation that
the heavens and the earth were made by a Supreme Being. It
is not clear that the Jews were ignorant of the geometrical
truth ; and the reviewer's conclusions did not follow even if
they were ignorant. We all speak of the rising and the setting
of the sun. The reviewer himself would have spoken of the
same ; and yet we all know that the sun does not rise or set.
The reviewer certainly would not have hesitated to say — " go
in a straight line from this place to that, and be sure you are
there before sunset." And yet (according to his own reasoning)
from so saying, he would appear to be ignorant of the globular
form of the earth, as well as of the Copernican system of
astronomy. How absurd and pedantic it would be to say — "go
in a geodesic line from this place to that, and be sure you
are there before that portion of the earth is withdrawn from
the sun's rays."

But, now, take a different view of the case. Suppose a
teacher of theology had taken up the above notion, and being
a bad mathematician, had insisted that they were bound to
take it as a part and parcel of the christian revelation, that
the circumference was treble the diameter, what would be the

204 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS [lect. vm.

consequence? Simply, that a student learning Euclid would
fancy he had got a mathematical demonstration of the falsity of
the Bible.

All the security we can have from the dangers on both sides,
is to put the people on their guard against them, and say, " let
no person go beyond his own department." Look in the Scrip-
tures for religious instruction ; and, above all, let the theologian
be always warned to teach his people, that a true religion has
nothing to fear, and can have nothing to fear, from a full and
searching investigation of Nature— that false and pretended
religions may be overthrown from facts brought to light, but
that true religion is confirmed by enlightenment and investiga-
tion. It comes from the Author of Nature, and He cannot
contradict Himself. Two great volumes are placed before us —
the book of Nature and the book of Revelation, and as they
came from the same Author, they cannot contradict each other.
We should learn to read them both aright.

The other objection which is urged against this system of
lecturing, is, in the words of the Poet —

" A little learning is a dangerous thing."

That is an objection frequently urged, and I acknowledge the
existence of the danger. I admit that with a " little learning"
people are likely to be puffed up with vanity — to consider them-
selves above laborious work — and -to become discontented at not
being honoured as the very accomplished persons they consider
themselves. I do not deny the danger. But the poet adds as
a remedy —

" Drink deep or taste not."

I think on reflection you will perceive that both of these reme-
dies "drink deep" and "taste not," are impossible. "Drink
deep ! " How deep are they to go ? Is not the most learned
man, even in any department to which he may have completely
devoted himself, extremely ignorant in reference to the subject
itself? He may have gone very " deep" in comparison with

lect. vm.] OF A LITTLE LEARNING. 205

some of his neighbours, but still is he not very ignorant when
his knowledge is compared with that which he does not know ?
Five centuries ago, a man went more " deep " than the gene-
rality, who could read. The gigantic telescope, which is such
an honour to this country, has brought to light wonders in
astronomy, that go far beyond anything with which we were
previously acquainted ; showing that the astronomers who
" drank deep," three centuries ago, were mere children when
compared to those who lived a century since, and that those
again were children to those who have followed them. It is
impossible to have more than a very ''little learning" in com-
parison to what we have to remain ignorant of. As, in making
a clearing in an American forest, the more trees you fell, the
wider is the prospect of surrounding wood, so, the more we
learn, the more we perceive of what is yet unlearnt. A man
may indeed attain a very great and a very " deep" degree of
learning in comparison of his neighbours ; but, is he, therefore,
the less likely to be self- conceited and puffed up ? But if by
" drink deep" is meant, learn modesty, there cannot be a better
admonition, or one in which I would more heartily concur.

I would, therefore, say, the first recommendation of the
poet — " drink deep" — is impracticable. The other — " taste
not" — that is to say, have no learning, is equally impossible.
The most ignorant clown knows something ; and knows some-
thing that is often dangerous. You will not find in the most
remote part of Ireland, a peasant who does not know what
money is ; who does not know the difference between a penny
and a half-crown, and even between a half-crown and gold.
But it is possible that this same peasant may think that the
rich are the cause of all the sufferings of the poor ; and that if
the rich were to be plundered of their property and massacred,
the people would be better off. This shows the danger of a little
knowledge ; but now the peasantry may learn a little more ; I
am happy to say, in the class books of the National schools,
they may learn that the rich are a benefit to their country, and
that if they were destroyed, the country would be worse off than

206 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS [lect. vm.

before. There is no one in this assembly, although I believe I
am surrounded by persons of erudition and high attainments,
"who is not — with respect to many branches of knowledge — in the
perilous position of having a " little learning." I suppose that
although not many of you are profound agriculturists, you all
know the difference between a crop of turnips and a crop of oats.
Although there may not be a dozen chemists in the room, I am
sure you all could tell the difference between salts and sugar.
And it is very possible, and also very useful, to have that slight
smattering of chemistry which will enable one to distinguish
from the salts used in medicine, the oxalic acid, with which,
through mistake, several persons have been poisoned. Again,
without being an eminent botanist, a person may know — what
it is most important to know — the difference between cherries
and the berries of the deadly Night-shade ; the want of which
knowledge has cost many lives.

Again, there is no one present, even of those who are not
profound politicians, who is not aware that we have rulers ; and
is it not proper that he should understand that government is
necessary to preserve our lives and property ? Is he likely to
be a worse subject for knowing that ? That depends very much
on the kind of government you wish to establish. If you wish
to establish an unjust and despotic government — or, if you wish
to set up a false religion, — then it would be advisable to avoid
the danger of enlightening the people. But if you wish to
maintain a good government, the more the people understand
the advantages of good government, the more they will respect
it ; and the more they know of true religion, the more they will
value it.

There is nothing more general among uneducated people
than a disposition to Socialism, and yet nothing more injurious
to their own welfare. An equalization of wages would be most
injurious to themselves; for it would, at once, destroy all emula-
tion. All motives for the acquisition of skill, and for superior
industry, would be removed. All the manufactures in this Ex-
hibition would be utterly destroyed by the equalization of wages.

lect. m] OP A LITTLE LEARNING. 207

Now it is but a little knowledge of political economy that is
needed for the removal of this error ; but that little is highly
useful.

Again, every one knows, no matter how ignorant of medi-
cine, that there is such a thing as disease. But as an instance
of the impossibility of the " taste not" recommendation of the
poet, I will mention a fact, which perhaps is known to you all.
When the cholera broke out in Poland, the peasantry of that
country took it into their heads that the nobles were poisoning
them in order to clear the country of them ; they believed the
rich to be the authors of that terrible disease ; and the con-
sequence was that the peasantry rose in masses, broke into the
houses of the nobility, and finding some chloride of lime, which
had been used for the purpose of disinfecting, they took it for
the poison which had caused the disease, and they murdered
them. Now, that was the sort of a " little learning" which was
very dangerous.

Again, you cannot prevent people from believing that there
is some superhuman Being who has an interest in human affairs.
Some clowns in the Weald of Kent, who had been kept as much
as possible on the " taste not" system, — left in a state of gross
ignorance, — yet believed that the Deity did impart special
powers to certain men : and that belief, coupled with excessive
stupidity, led them to take an insane fanatic for a prophet. In
this case, this " little learning" actually caused an insurrection
in his favour, in order to make him king, priest, and prophet, of
the British empire ; and many lives were sacrificed before this
insane insurrection was put down. If a " little learning" is a
" dangerous thing," you will have to keep people in a perfect
state of idiotcy in order to avoid that danger. I would, there-
fore, say that both the recommendations of the poet are im-
-practicable.

The question then arises what are we to do ? Simply, to
impress upon all people to labour to know how little their
learning is ; how little, in comparison to what they remain
ignorant of, they know. And the more they are taught, the

208 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS [lect. vra.

less likely they will be to overrate or mistake the character of
their learning. Other things being equal, the more widely
knowledge is diffused among mankind, the less danger there
is of an ill-use being made of it. For, what is more mischievous
to the tranquillity of a country than a clever > unprincipled,
" patriot " demagogue, who makes use of a number of ignorant
and uncultivated people as his tools? He gets the people to
believe in him as a patriot, a guide, perhaps a prophet ; and
they will do anything — commit any extravagances that he
may direct. Who ever heard of an educated rabble? Who
ever heard of such a thing as a riotous mob consisting of men
of cultivated minds ? Such a thing is impossible ; for each
would be thinking for himself, and all would be generals. The
more widely, therefore, you diffuse intellectual culture, the
greater is your chance of a peaceable, and well ordered com-
munity. A little light is only dangerous to those who walk
boldly on in the twilight — to those who do not see where they
tread. But, I would say, seek not to remedy the danger by
blinding the eyes.

Some persons, however, are not so much afraid of those who
have but a little knowledge, as of what are called smatterers; —
persons who are puffed up on account of their having learnt
certain hard words — certain scientific and technical terms :
from having attended lectures on what they have been pleased
to term the various " ologies " — geology, biology, chronology,
ornithology — which enable the smatterers to move along in
society, as if they were well informed on all the " ologies." I
admit this danger too, and have often pointed it out. But
there is another danger — that of a scorn for all Science, — for
all systematic knowledge, — combined with a self-sufficient confi-
dence in what is called common sense and experience. And
this danger, though not so often pointed out, is as great, if-
not greater than that to which I have alluded, and far more
hopeless. There are men who depend on " their experience "
and their lt common sense " for everything — who are con-
tinually obtruding what may be called the pedantry of their

lect. m] OP A LITTLE LEARNING. 209

" experience" and their "common sense" on the most abstruse
subjects. They meet all scientific and logical argument with
" common sense tells me I am right " — and, " my every day's
experience confirms me in the opinion I have formed." If they
are spoken to of Political Economy, they will immediately
reply — " Ah, I know nothing of the dreams of Political Econ-
omy " (this is the very phrase I have heard used) — " I never
studied it — I never troubled myself about it; but there are
some points upon which I have made up my mind, such as
the questions of Free Trade, and Protection, and Poor Laws."
" I do not profess" — a man will perhaps say — " to know anything
of Medicine, or Pharmacy, or Anatomy, or any of those
things ; but I know by experience that so and so is wholesome
for sick people."

In former times men knew by experience that the earth
stands still, and the sun rises and sets. Common sense taught
them, that there could be no antipodes, since men could not
stand with their heads downwards, like flies on the ceiling.
Experience taught the King of Bantam that water can never
become solid. And — to come to the case of human affairs —
the experience and common sense of the most intelligent of
the Roman historians, Tacitus, taught him that for a mixed
government to be established, combining the elements of
Royalty, Aristocracy and Democracy would be next to impos-
sible ; and that if it were established, it must speedily be
dissolved. Yet had he lived to the present day, he would
have learned that the establishment and continuance of such
a form of government was not impossible. So much for
experience ! The experience of some persons resembles the
learning of a man who has turned over the pages of a great
many books without ever having learned to read: and their
so-called common sense is often in reality, nothing else than
common prejudice.

We may rest assured then, that those who affect to dread
and despise what they call a smattering of science, and trust
to experience and common sense, have no security against
w. e. P

210 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS, ETC. [lect. vm.

error, or against presumptuous confidence in error, if they
are deficient in real sound judgment, and in modesty ; and
with these qualities, no one will be in danger of self-sufficiency
and pedantry from the acquisition of scientific truth, be it
much or little.

Be not deterred therefore, I would say, by the dread of
being called smatterers, from seeking a little knowledge where
more is not within your reach : only take care not to over-
estimate your knowledge, be it small or great.

These Lectures will never, I am convinced, deter any one
from reading, and from studying systematically what he
would, but for these Lectures, have so studied. They are
more likely to incite some to read and inquire concerning
subjects to which they might otherwise have never given a
thought. And to all, the little knowledge they may impart
may prove useful in various ways, and not least in giving
them some notion of the vast amount remaining behind of
knowledge which they have not acquired.

REVIEWS.

I.

EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

, Facts and Observations respecting Canada and the United
States of America ; affording a Comparative View of the
inducements to Emigration presented in those Countries : to
which is added an Appendix of Practical Instructions to Emi-
grant Settlers in the British Colonies. By Charles F. Grece,
Member of the Montreal and Quebec Agricultural Societies ;
and Author of Essays on Husbandry, addressed to the Canadian
Farmers. 8vo. pp. 172. Loudon. 1819.

The Emigrant's Guide to Upper Canada; or, Sketches of the
Present State of that Province, collected from a Residence
therein during the Years 1817, 1818, 1819. Interspersed with
Reflections. By C. Stuart, Esq., Retired Captain of the Honour-
able the East India Company's Service, and one of His Majesty's
Justices of the Peace for the Western District of Upper Canada.
12mo. pp. 335. London. 1820.

A Visit to the Province of Upper Canada, in 1819. By James
Strachan. 8vo. pp. 221. Aberdeen. 1820.

We had occasion lately1 to discuss generally the subject
of emigration ; but it is too important a topic to be speedily
exhausted of its interest: and the public attention has been
of late so particularly directed to the Cape, that it becomes
a duty to prevent, as far as our influence extends, an undue
neglect of our North American colonies.

In fact, the growth and prosperity of the Cape and of
Canada, do not necessarily interfere with each other : both are
•well deserving the most careful attention of government, and
both hold out great advantages to individual emigrants ; while
these advantages are in many respects so different in the two

1 In a former Number of the Quarterly Review.

p 3

212 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

colonies, as very materially to lessen the rivalship between them
Those whom health or inclination leads to prefer a much warmer
climate than our own, will naturally prefer the Cape : those, on
the other hand, who wish for a climate and soil, and produce,
and culture, the most nearly approaching that to which they
have been accustomed, will be more nearly suited, we appre-
hend, in Upper Canada, than in any other spot they can fix
upon. The comparative shortness of the voyage also, will be
likely to influence the decision of many emigrants ; and the
number of colonists of British origin already fixed there, will
be an inducement to others, especially to such as have con-
nexions or friends among the number.

Of those, however, who resolve to settle in North America,
a very large proportion fix on some part or other (the western
territory especially) of the United States, in preference to our
own provinces; a preference which, in many instances at least,
arises, as we are convinced on the best authority, partly from the
exaggerated descriptions of Mr. Birkbeck and others, of the
superior advantages held out by the United States, and partly
from the misapprehensions and misrepresentations which pre-
vail respecting Canada. Of the effect produced by those
exaggerations, a remarkable instance has been transmitted to us
by a most respectable correspondent in Upper Canada. A person
went from the district of Newcastle, (selling his farm there,)
and another, from the Bay of Quinty, allured by the hopes of
better success in the United States ; one of them looked about
for an eligible spot to the north and east of Washington ; the
other in the western territory : but both ultimately returned,
and fixed themselves in the settlements which they had quitted.

The ignorance and misrepresentation also with respect to
our own provinces are astonishingly "great and wide-spread :
Lower and Upper Canada are perpetually, even by those who
ought to know better, confounded in a great degree in what
regards their climate, productions, and inhabitants. Many
persons have a vague general idea of Canada as a cold uncom-
fortable region, inhabited by people of French extraction : but
even those whom a glance at the map has satisfied of the widp

EMIGKATION TO CANADA. 213

interval between the extremities of Lower and of Upper Canada,
may not be prepared to expect (and indeed the interval of latitude
is not sufficient to account for it) so great a difference as between
five months of winter and three; or to believe that the Upper Pro-
vince enjoys, on the whole, a much warmer climate than this island.

We need not indeed wonder at the prevalence of erroneous
opinions on this subject among the mass of the community,
when we find even official persons stating in general terms, that
" our North American colonies labour under the disadvantage
of a barren soil, and an ungenial climate P* How remote this
representation is from the truth, may be readily inferred from
the remarkable fact, that, notwithstanding the high price of
labour, and the utter worthlessness, in most cases, of timber,
the settler not only can always find persons willing to clear his
land for him, on condition of having the first crop from it, but
is considered as having made, if he resorts to this method, a
very disadvantageous bargain, and much overpaid the labour.
Nor can that be called an ungenial climate which brings to per-
fection, not only all the fruits of the earth which this country
can boast, but others, which we are precluded from cultivating.
We need only mention the maize or Indian-corn, which would
be an invaluable acquisition to the British agriculturist, if our
ordinary summers were sufficient to ripen it, from its producing
on moderate soils an immense return, frequently above sixty
bushels per acre, of a grain particularly serviceable in feeding
all kinds of cattle and poultry, and furnishing several nutritious
and not unpalatable articles of diet for Man.

Strongly impressed with the importance of our Canadian
possessions, and the desirableness of having some authentic and
practical information respecting them as widely diffused as
possible, we were much gratified with the appearance of the
works whose titles are prefixed to this Article.

Mr. Grece's is evidently the production of a plain, sensible,
practical man. He has manifestly no great skill or experience
in authorship ; but, what is much more important, he seems to
possess those requisites in the subject of which he treats ; and
it is no slight recommendation to the greater part of his readers,

214 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

and we may add, to his reviewers, that he seems altogether
exempt from the ambition of making a book, and conveys his
information briefly and plainly, with the air of a man who
writes, not because he wants to sag something, but because he has
something to sag.

As a Canadian, his statement of the comparative advantages
of settling in his own country, and in the United States, will
naturally be exposed to the suspicion of partiality : but those
who will judge for themselves by a perusal of his book, cannot
fail, we think, to be impressed with an appearance of candour
and veracity ; and where he expresses himself the most
strongly, he is borne out by the testimony of unexceptionable
witnesses.

" And now let us pursue our comparison of these and other ad-
vantages of the Canadas with those which are so pompously held
out to settlers in the western territories of the United States.

" The difference as to distance, and the consequent expense of
travelling, by sea and land, have already been sufficiently noticed ;
as also have the relative situations of the respective markets from
the abodes of the growers in Canada and in the Ohio States, by
which it has been shewn that in a much less time than a boat can
pass between the Ohio country to the Orleans depot, and return,
might a ship make a voyage from Quebec to Europe or the West
Indies, and return again to the Canadian port.

" Let us suppose, however, that an emigrant has surmounted
the perilous and expensive voyage from Europe to the western
territory ; on his arrival there what a host of difficulties, expenses,
and inconveniences has he got to combat.

" Perhaps, with a delicate wife and a family of children, he finds
himself seated under a tree in the midst of a wild and trackless
region, where not a single human face besides those of his own
retinue can be seen ; not a hut or a cabin can he behold ; and the
alluring stories he had been told about luxuriant natural meadows,
called prairies, waiting only for the hand of the mower and a day's
sun to be converted into food for his horses and cattle, turn out to
have been lavished upon wide open fields of grass, towering as high
as the first floor window of the comfortable house he has forsaken
in Europe, and penetrating with its tough fibrous roots into the
earth beyond the reach of the ploughshare, requiring the operation
of fire ere the land can be converted to any useful purpose.

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 215

" Under a burning sun, and with but little shelter from the
foliage of trees, or the retreats of the forest, he has to dig wells ere
he can quench his thirst, there being no cooling and refreshing
springs ! and although he may still hope that time will enable him
to surmount all his difficulties, and reconcile his complaining, per-
haps upbraiding, family to their isolated condition, his heart will be
apt to sicken within him, especially when he finds that he must
wander many miles in search of some one to assist him in the very
commencement of his operations. At length, however, that assist-
ance is procured ; but of what species of beings does it consist ?
— Alas ! alas ! they are those very unfortunate wretches whose
degraded condition he has, while in Europe, learnt most humanely
to commiserate." — pp. G2 — 64.

There is much practical detail in Mr. Grece's book, which is
calculated to be of great service to emigrants ; the chief obstacle
to whose success appears to be either the misapplication of their
little capital, or the consumption of it in fruitless delays, while
they are hesitating what -spot to fix on, and what measures to
adopt.

" Emigrants intending to proceed to Upper Canada take their
departure from Montreal to La Chine, a distance of nine miles.
From thence they go to Prescot in boats, 111 miles. From thence
there is a steam boat to Kingston, wdiere there are other steamboats
proceeding to York, the capital and seat of government for the
Upper Province. After landing passengers, the boat proceeds to
Queenstown, on the Niagara frontier. Between Queenstown and
lake Erie there is a portage of eighteen miles. The total expense
from Montreal is generally considered to amount to about five
pounds each person.

" Those who proceed farther take carriage past the portage, to
avoid the Niagara falls, and embark in vessels on lake Erie for
Amhurstburgh on the Detroit river. Few people, however, pro-
ceed that distance, except for curiosity : they generally concentrate
themselves near market towns, where labourers are plentiful, and
artificers are to be found to perform the different kinds of work that
may be required. There are, nevertheless, many extensive settle-
ments in the Erie country.

" Those persons who wish to proceed to the Ottawa river will
find a packet-boat at La Chine, which leaves that place every
Sunday morning, from May to November, for St. Andrew's and

216 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

Carillion, being the foot of the rapids on that river, extending about
nine miles. A steam boat is expected to ply between the head of
these rapids and the river Rideau, the present summer, to carry
goods and passengers to the Perth and Richmond settlements,
where, during the summer of 1818, a road wTas made to commu-
nicate with the Ottawa. Another road has been made through
the townships of Chatham, Grenville, the seigniory of the Petit
Nation, the townships of Norfolk, Templeton, and Hull, forming
a regular communication by land from the above settlement to
Montreal and Kingston in Upper Canada. — pp. 51, 53.

" As every article of real utility, and even of luxury, can be
easily procured in the Canadian cities, and that too at nearly
as easy a rate as in London, emigrants need not expend their cash
in goods for sale, but preserve as much specie as possible. The
emigrant may, however, provide himself with such articles of
clothing as are suitable to the climate : viz. coarse Yorkshire cloth
trowsers and round jacket, a long great coat, striped cotton shirts,
and worsted stockings, with boots or high shoes. For the summer
dress he may provide Russia-duck trowsers, and smock frock.
He may also take out bed and bedding. Kitchen furniture may
or may not be taken out ; he might, however, include a few rough
carpenters' tools. Axes, chains, hoes, and ploughs for new land, are
made in Canada, better adapted to the work than can be had in any
part of Europe."- — pp. 58 — 60.

The system of husbandry pursued in both the Canadas
appears to be still very defective ; a circumstance which ought
to be taken into account by those who estimate the quality
of the land from reports of the produce. We mean defective
in comparison of what it might and should be under actual
circumstances ; for we are well aware that it would be absurd
in the case of a new colony to draw our notions of a perfect
system of husbandry from what is considered such in Great
Britain. The ratios of the price of an acre of land in a state of
nature to that of a day's wages to a common labourer, in the
two countries, may be taken on a rough estimate, in the one
case, as more than two hundred to one, in the other, as some-
thing less than five to one; a difference which must in many
points occasion a material distinction in the mode of agriculture
which prudence would suggest in each. The want of capital

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 217

also, under which most of the colonists labour, is an insur-
mountable obstacle to many improvements which would answer
abundantly if they could be carried into effect : but there appears
to be also, a great deficiency of skill ; which indeed to any
one who considers the materials of which colonies are generally
composed, will by no means be matter of wonder.

Mr. Grece seems to have exerted himself very laudably,
and not altogether unsuccessfully, for the improvement of his
countrymen in this respect; his agricultural essays having
attracted great and deserved attention.

How much the progress of Canadian agriculture would
be accelerated by the diffusion of scientific knowledge, if not
among the whole body of the farmers, at least among their
leaders and instructors, may be conjectured from the following
extract from the appendix to Mr. Grece's work, under the head
" Plaster of Paris."

" Thi3 valuable manure, almost unknown, though very easy to
be obtained, merits the attention of every farmer ; there is scarcely
a farm in the Provinces but it might be applied to with advantage.
The practice of nine years on the following soils and crops may
suffice to prove its quality. On a piece of poor yellow loam, I
tried three grain crops without success ; with the last, which fol-
lowed a hoe crop, I laid it down with barley : the return was little
more than the seed. The grass seed took very well. In the
month of May the following year, I strewed powder of plaster, at
the rate of one minot and one peck to the arpent. In duly, the
piece of land being mowed, the quantity of grass was so great that
it was not possible to find room to dry it on the land where it
grew. The produce was five large loads of hay to the arpent. It
continued good for five years. A trial was made with plaster on a
piece of white clay laid down with clover and timothy — the grass
was very thin. After the plaster was strewed, it improved so much
as to be distinguished from any other part of the field ; the sixth
year after, the field was broke up in the spring, and sowed with
pease : the spot where the plaster had been put produced twice as
much as any other part of the field. The haulm was of a deep green
colour, nor were they affected with the drought, like the others on
the part of the field where no plaster had been put. A trial was
made on a strong loam ; the crop, Indian corn, manured in the hills

218 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

with old stable dung, lime, and plaster : the stable dung surpassed
the other two, the Indian corn being finest where that was applied.
In the spring of the following year, the field was ploughed and
sowed with pease ; where the plaster and lime had been the year
before, the pease were as strong again as in any other part of the
field. I tried plaster on cabbages and turnips, but did not perceive
any good effect. From the frequent trials of this manure on various
soils, it is evident that it is applicable to both strong and light soils
for top dressings of succulent plants.

" Method of reducing it. — Take an axe and break the stone to
the size of a nut; then take a flat stone two feet in diameter, and
break it into powder with a wooden mallet. It must be reduced
very fine ; those that have an iron pestle and mortar can pound it
expeditiously that way. Should plaster meet its deserved attention,
it might give employment to people in the houses of correction to
reduce it to powder for the use of the farmers, when no other objects
of industry present themselves.

" In order to give an idea of the measure of a ton of plaster in
stone, it will measure three feet square on the base and two feet two
inches high, English measure. This is cited in order to assist
persons that may wish to buy from the vessels going up the river,
where weights cannot be had to weigh. That which is taken from
the mine is best, and is of a silver grey colour ; that from off the
surface is red, and is of less value. A ton will produce fourteen
minots of powder wdien broke ; a man can break eighty pounds in
one day, in a mortar of six inches diameter, in its natural state.
Having a great deal to prepare for the spring of 1817, 1 bad it broke
about the size of a goose egg, and then put into the oven of a double
stove; it remained about half an hour, after which a man could
reduce two hundred and ten pounds in twelve hours, with a sledge
hammer, pounding it on a flat stone. As this is an experiment,
time must determine whether the heat diminishes its quality." —
Facts, &c. pp. 147, 150.

A very slight knowledge of chemistry would have decided
this important question, and led the Canadian farmers at once
to the result which they will probably arrive at gradually by
experiments, viz. that heat, abstracting nothing from the sul-
phate of lime, except its water, cannot lessen its value as a
manure ; and consequently, that its complete calcination, which
renders it so friable as almost entirely to supersede the la-

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 219

borious process just described, would be the fittest preparation1.
To any one who considers the great value of this manure, to-
gether with the high price of labour, and the cheapness of fuel
in the newly settled districts, this single improvement will
appear of incalculable importance.

Captain Stuart's book is in some respects recommended by
the circumstance of its not being written by a Canadian. One
who is familiar with a different state of society is at least the
better qualified to convey to those similarly circumstanced
a clear idea of the state of a new colony ; besides that he may
be expected, by taking more enlarged views, to form a better
estimate of it. Both kinds of authority, however, have their
respective advantages; and it is therefore most desirable to be
enabled, as in the present case, to have recourse to both.

There is much interesting information in this book ; and it
conveys an impression of the author's sincerity and good in-
tentions. Unfortunately, however, he is deeply smitten with
the ambition of being an eloquent writer: a character for
which he is so little qualified, that we cannot forbear applying
to him the celebrated precept which is said to have been given
by some austere critic to a young author ; viz. " whenever
he had written anything that he thought particularly fine,
to scratch it out." Captain Stuart has not yet attained even
correctness in the use of his language ; (an acquisition which
should precede every attempt at ornament;) and in good taste
he is lamentably deficient.

We refrain from giving any specimens of his unsuccessful
attempts at sublimity, because we think too well of the design
and of the probable utility of the work, to have any pleasure in
drawing ridicule upon it : but in case the author should have
any thoughts of re-casting it in a second edition, or of publishing

i Sir D". Davy is of opinion, that this substance is essential as a component part
of many vegetables of the description which are usually called grass crops ; and
hence accounts for the extraordinary effects which in many cases it has produced.

220 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

any thing further on the subject, we would beg leave to advise
him to omit all extraneous matter, and say what he has to say
on the subject in a plain way ; leaving solid arguments and
statements of facts to plead their own cause, without calling
in the aid of high-flown declamation. Let him absolutely for-
swear the use of notes of admiration ; and let him express his
religious sentiments in their proper place, boldly and strongly,
but undebased by the cant-language of a religious party. It
is, indeed, most consolatory to find a settler and promoter
of settlements in Canada, strongly impressed with a sense of
the paramount importance of religion. To a layman, and not
least to a military man, this is peculiarly creditable ; and we
fear that such a spirit is in few places more wanted : but great
disservice is done to the cause by those injudicious friends of it,
who, setting calm discretion and good taste at defiance, by
their manner of introducing and discussing religious topics, and
by the style which they employ, tend to excite disgust and
contempt in the less serious minds, and in those of more sober
reflection suspicion of themselves as enthusiasts :

" Haud illud quserentes num sine sensu,

Tempore num faciant alieno." —

We must in justice however assure our readers, that they
will find Captain Stuart, in every thing that relates to Canadian
affairs, deserving of much greater confidence. Many of his re-
marks are just and important ; and in his statements of facts we
have had the good fortune to possess most satisfactory means of
verifying his accuracy. On the whole, there is more good sense
and candour in his work than one would at first sight expect to
find.

On the subject of the deeded lands, (a most important one,)
Captain Stuart has a passage which is very much to the purpose :

" The province, originally an immense wilderness, yet possessed
of a soil and climate which promised everything, presented attrac-
tions to its first visitors which naturally produced a corresponding
effect. They (as other men would have been) were at once desirous
of appropriating to themselves the most fertile tracts, and of avoiding

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 221

the trouble and expense of rendering them productive. They
necessarily foresaw that in the course of years the country would be
peopled ; that as population increased, the fertile tracts, in this
manner secured, would be enhanced in value ; and that thus at length
an important property would be obtained for their posterity without
any exertion or care of their own. They probably foresaw not the
evils necessarily resulting from such property so abandoned to na-
ture. Let every man, before he condemns others for this conduct,
lay his hand upon his heart, and ask himself, if, under such circum-
stances, he would not have done the same. There doubtlessly may
be men who would not have done so ; but, for my part, though I
now irresistibly perceive its pernicious consequences, and lament
them, and earnestly desire, as far as may be consistent with justice,
to have them rectified ; yet I have no hesitation in acknowledging,
that in every probability such would have been my own conduct ;
and I blush thus to find in myself, amidst a thousand others, this
new corroboration of the darkness and guilt of my nature.

" Under this influence, however, blind, and selfish, and base as
it is, immense tracts of some of the finest lands in the province
have been secured by possessors, who either no longer form even a
nominal part of its population, or who, dwelling amidst its plains,
revel in anticipation upon the benefits which their sloth shall derive
from the labours of others. Having obtained the grant, they are
gone whither their more immediate interests or affections have led
them (as others would have done), leaving their possessions here to
improve in value by the toils and exertions of others ; to whom, as
far as depends upon them, they yield not only no reciprocation of
benefit, but produce even a most positive and glaring disadvantage ;
or they reside in the province, keeping back their fertile possessions
from more industrious hands, and leaving them in the wildness of
nature, to become eventually valuable by that very industry which
they counteract and chill.

" Thus wherever you go, wastes of deeded land, sometimes the
reward of merit or of service, as often the fruit of falsehood and
intrigue, glare in your face, and withstand you under the mighty
barrier of law, which protects them, while, with all the stupidity
and sordidness of the dog in the manger, they abuse it." — p. 176 —
179.

To illustrate more strongly what the author has here said,
we will mention a fact which has come to our knowledge re-
specting the settlement of Perth, first inserting his description
of that settlement :

222 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

" Struck by events of the last war with the risks incident to the
navigation of the head of St. Lawrence, in case of contest with the
United States, it became an anxious object with the government to
provide for the public service another route more sheltered from those
risks ; and the result of the research produced by this desire was the
choice of Perth, as an original port, for the prosecu ion of the work.

"At the distance cf about forty miles from Brockville, the
nearest and most favourable frontier to it, and far out of the route
of common observation, this place would probably have slumbered
unknown, beneath the retired wildness of its native forests for
another half century, had not this circumstance called it forth ; and
its remoteness, even when thus produced, required for it a fostering
hand to support what had been founded. The assistance of govern-
ment was liberally advanced ; a fine soil, with a salubrious climate,
corroborated the effort ; the unusual impulse produced a correspond-
ing effect ; and Perth, though commenced but the other day (that is,
about four years ago), already assumes the appearance of a flour-
ishing colony. The extension of the settlement is continuing both
towards Kingston and the Ottawas ; and the spirit which planned
and supports it sees this great object of public utility apparently
approaching to a favourable conclusion." — pp. 42, 43.

Now it was originally intended that Perth should be fixed
on the River Rideau, (not Radeau, as Capt. Stuart calls it,) but
this was found impracticable, from the government-lands not
extending far enough in the requisite direction, but being in-
terrupted by a tract of land (left in a state of nature and waiting
to become valuable) which had been granted to the heirs of
General Arnold ; in the rear of which tract (on the banks of a
comparatively insignificant stream) the settlement was ultimately-
placed, and through which a road was necessarily cut, to open a
communication with the rest of the province, at a heavy public
expense, and to the incalculable profit of the owners of that grant.

The subject of the government and clergy-reserves also
deserves consideration in many points of view. The obstacle to
improvement which they present, is the same with that of the pri-
vate grants above noticed, and ought, if possible, to be removed.

But a more serious and urgent evil is the inadequate pre-
sent provision for the clergy. We are far from agreeing with
Captain Stuart in his apprehensions of evil hereafter, from a
liberal independent provision for the clergy ; or, in his " indiffer-

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 223

ence as to the denomination of protestants" on which the support
of government should be bestowed1, but we heartily sympathise
in his dissatisfaction at the spiritual state of Canada in the mean
time. It matters little that we have a prospect at some remote
period of having a numerous and well-supported clergy in the
province, if its present inhabitants are suffered to remain in a
state of heathenism ; for, besides that they have souls to be saved
as well as their posterity, what chance of success will the clergy
have who are appointed to superintend parishes in which religion
shall have been for a long time wholly un thought of? — in which
several generations, reckoning back to the present time, (we speak
advisedly,) shall have successively grown up without baptism $
We do not impute blame to any particular parties ; but it is
quite clear that, if this state of things be suffered to go on
without redress in a part of an empire calling itself christian,
a heavy responsibility must attach somewhere. — If we slumber,
we must expect that anabaptists, methodists, and sectaries of
all descriptions from the United States, who are already making
great progress in Canada, will completely supplant the church.
Their exertions cannot be blamed, since they are, in many
instances at least, not sowing divisions among Christians, but
making Christians ; nor is their success even to be deprecated,
unless we exert ourselves, since any form of Christianity is
better than none.

" There are at present in Upper Canada twelve or fifteen clergy-
men of the established church, and not quite so many churches.
These are supported partly by the government and partly by the
Society for propagating the Gospel. I need not add (stationary as
they are, or at least confined to narrow circuits.) how totally insuffi-
cient such a provision must be for the spiritual wants of a secluded
population, scattered over a frontier of nearly on« thousand miles.
To the mass of the people it is almost as nothing.

" Yet the province has not been left entirely thus destitute. The
spirit of the establishment seems improving and the Baptists,

1 This indifference does not extend to the Roman Catholics ; so that we presume
he believes that there is a kind of charm in the name of Protestant, which secures
those who hear it from all essential errors.

224 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

Methodists, and Presbyterians, have concurred in keeping alive in
it the worship of God. Of these, the most active and the most
successful are the Methodists." — pp. Ill, 112.

We have good grounds for believing that Captain Stuart's
opinion of the American methodists is far too favourable : they
are for the most part gross and ignorant enthusiasts, and actuated
by a spirit of bitter hostility against the English methodists, who
are a far more respectable body of men. The existence of a
national jealousy, so strong as thus to prevail over religious
agreement, is well worthy of attention, as it may hereafter lead
to important consequences.

But, whatever may be the character of the sectaries, it is
surely incumbent on those who, as individuals, profess themselves
members of the Church of England, and, as a community,
acknowledge that church as an ally of the State, and a part of
the constitution, to provide for the instruction of their fellow-
subjects in its principles.

Among the measures which appear to be called for, with a
view to this object, one of the most obvious seems to be, the
appointment of an archdeacon, or some other functionary, to
exercise, in the Upper Province, (unless indeed it were con-
stituted a distinct See,) those ecclesiastical duties which cannot
possibly be adequately performed in person by the Bishop of
Quebec. It would, in fact, be an office of no small labour, to
afford the requisite superintendence to the affairs of Upper
Canada ; such is the extent of territory, the difficulty of travel-
ling and the number of new demands continually arising for
pastors and for places of worship.

Mr. Strachan's book is by far the most interesting that we
have seen on the subject ; and we strongly recommend it to
those of our readers who wish for full information respecting
Upper Canada, compressed into a very .moderate compass, and
conveyed in an unpretending and yet agreeable form. The
author presents us with his own first impressions as a stranger,
together with the accurate local knowledge obtained from his

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 225

brother, a settler of long standing, who has access to the best
sources of information : and accordingly he appears to have
fully made good the profession of his preface, " that almost
every thing which an emigrant going to Upper Canada wishes
to know, will be found in his small volume."

His account of the state of religion in the province (a sub-
ject which he treats of like a sincere, but sober-minded Chris-
tian) is such as fully to bear out the remarks which we have
already made : it is such as ought to encourage, but not to
satisfy us. The baptism of some adults by his brother, at a
chapel which was indebted for its existence to his exertions, is
well described : the fact which he subjoins may create surprise
in the minds of some of our readers, and is certainly well
worthy of attention. " On our return home," he says, " I in-
quired of my brother whether such occurrences frequently hap-
pened." " Since the building of this church," he replied, " I
have baptized nearly 400 persons, half of them grown up."

Mr. Strachan gives a very interesting account of a conver-
sation at which he was present, between two American citizens
on the subject of their grand canal : (of which a detailed de-
scription may be seen in the Appendix to Mr. Grece's Book,
No. 1, p. 81,) one of them he represents as appearing by no
means convinced of the commercial advantages which others
anticipated from the scheme :

'•' It is so easy, (turning to us,) gentlemen, to improve the navi-
gation of the St. Lawrence, that all our efforts to divert the trade
will prove in vain. And it is well that it should be so ; for the
produce of the vast countries which surround us will be enough for
both. It is not as an instrument of commerce that I admire the
canal which we are digging, but as an emblem of peace. Had w7e
not despaired of conquering the Canadas, the hope of which pro-
duced the late war, this great work had never been commenced." —
p. 107.

The information which the author subjoins respecting the
proposed improvements in the inland navigation of Canada, is
the more valuable from the circumstance of his brother being,
w. E. Q

226 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

if we are not misinformed, the person to whom the province is
principally indebted for the suggestion of the plan.

" Ships can come up to Montreal ; but here dangerous rapids
commence, and continue nine miles. The canal, to avoid them,
may require a length of ten miles ; and is now beginning under an
incorporated company. It is to pass behind Montreal, and have
a lateral cut from the St. Lawrence, at the entrance of the town.
The ground is easy of excavation, and the supply of water inex-
haustible : in two or three years it will be open for transport. The
whole expense is not expected to exceed £80,000; and such is
the trade that must pass through it, that the stock-holders will, in
two or three years after it is in operation, share their maximum, or
15 per cent.

" Lake Ontario is reckoned 200 feet above the St. Lawrence at
Montreal, which may be divided into three unequal parts. From
the head of the St, Lawrence, where it leaves the Lake, to the
Rapid Plat, a distance of ninety miles, there is not more than
forty feet fall ; from the Rapid Plat to Lake St. Francis, a distance
of forty miles, there is a fall of fifty-five ; the next twenty-six
miles, called Lake St. Francis, show some current, and may give
a declivity of six feet. From the Coteau du Lac to Lake St.
Lewis, nearly twenty-two miles, the fall may be estimated at fifty-
seven feet; and the Lachine Rapids forty-two feet, in a distance
of twelve miles. It is obvious that much of conjecture enters into
this calculation ; but it will not be found very wide of the truth.

" To allow sloops and steam-boats to go from Montreal to Lake
St. Francis, two canals are necessary of about equal difficulty — the
Lachine canal just begun, and the Cedar canal of much the same
length. This canal commences near the junction of the Ottawa, or
Grand River, and the St. Lawrence, and enters Lake St. Francis
near the east end. The estimated expense £75,000; so that
£155,000 would cure all the defects of the St. Lawrence within
the limits of Lower Canada. The impediments in Upper Canada
are less considerable ; it is not thought a greater sum than £60,000
would be necessary to remove every impediment. But the pro-
vincial revenue is too limited at present to admit the disbursement
of this sum, small as it is, and great as the advantages must be to
the colony. The House of Assembly, in conjunction with the
legislative council, sensible of these advantages and their present
inability, have petitioned his Royal Highness the Prince Regent,
through his excellency Sir Peregrine Maitland, for a grant of
100,000 acres of land, to assist in such improvements; and as the

EMIGKATION TO CANADA. 227

request goes home favoured by his excellency, there is little doubt
of its being favourably received.

" Now this quantity of land, if located in a favourable situation,
will sell for two and a half dollars per acre ; that is, £62,500 for
the whole, or £2500 beyond our estimate of the necessary improve-
ments. But should the sum wanted exceed this ten or twelve
thousand pounds, no impediment would arise, for the legislature
would very willingly provide for this contingency.

" Having thus, at a small expense, opened a direct communi-
cation between Niagara and the ocean, the next great object is the
junction of the two Lakes Erie and Ontario, which may be more
easily effected than is commonly supposed. There are several parts
of the Chippawa where it is navigable for vessels of any reasonable
size within fifteen miles of Lake Ontario. For thirty miles the
Chippawa resembles a canal : the current almost imperceptible, and
very little affected by rains ; the channel deep and without ob-
struction. A canal of fourteen miles would reach to the head ot
the mountain, close on Lake Ontario, in several places ; four locks
would be sufficient in this distance. — The height of the hill within
a distance of two miles of Lake Ontario is 250 feet, requiring
upwards of thirty locks, all very near one another. The great
expense of so many locks, and the time lost in passing and
repassing them, seem to point out a rail-way as more advantageous..
The basin at the end of the canal should be formed at some distance
from the top of the hill, making the rail-way, with its windings,
about four miles before it reached the wharfs on Lake Ontario.
The distribution of the height of 250 feet would hardly be per-
ceptible in this distance. The canal, fourteen miles long, will cost
£40,000 ; and the rail-way, four miles, £10,000 ; and £10,000 for
stores and wharfs — forming an aggregate of £60,000 for joining
the two Lakes.

" After passing into Lake Erie, to which there is no difficulty,
from the mouth of the Chippawa, except a mile of rapid water at
Black Rock, the navigation is open through Lakes Sinclair, Huron,
and Michigan ; and a trifling expense at the Strait of St. Mary
will enable vessels to proceed into Lake Superior.

" There is one other improvement connected with this line which
I consider of great importance to a large and wealthy section of
the province, namely, a communication between the Grand River
and Chippawa. The Grand River is navigable for boats to a great
distance from its mouth. It abounds in mill seats of the best
description, capable of turning any machinery whatever; and the
country through which it runs is of the first quality, and must in

Q3

228 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

a short time become rich in the production of grain. It would, there-
fore, be of infinite advantage to possess a water communication to Lake
Ontario, which may be effected by a canal of five miles in length ; for
so near do the Grand River and Chippawa approach to one another.
This would complete the main line of internal navigation, and bring
the greater part of the province close to the ocean. What is peculiarly
encouraging, there is no expense to be incurred which can be con-
sidered beyond our reach. The communication between the two
lakes will not be required for a few years, as the surplus produce
for some time will find an immediate market among the new
settlers, who are flocking in great numbers to the London and
Western districts ; and before that period elapses the provincial
treasury will enable the legislature to appropriate, without any
difficulty, a sum sufficient to pay the interest of the capital laid out
in making the canals, rail-ways, &c." — pp. 10S — 112.

Of the whole process by which lands are cleared, settled, and
improved, Mr. Strachan gives, in an unaffected style, the most
distinct and graphic descriptions we have met with in any of
the numerous publications on the subject : and his book may,
on the whole, be safely recommended as the best calculated, not
only to amuse the curious, but also to afford to those who have
thoughts of emigrating, clear notions (which in such a case is
a matter somewhat difficult as well as important) of the very
novel state of things they have to expect.

We cannot dismiss the subject without noticing a little more
fully than we have yet done some prevailing objections both
against emigration in general and emigration in the direction of
Canada in particular; and we shall be enabled to point out,
as we proceed, the nature of the advantages it promises.

It is objected, in the first place, that all hopes of counter-
acting by emigration the evils of a redundant population must
be utterly illusory ; since the necessary expense of the voyage
and outfit would place the remedy beyond the reach of those
very persons for whose benefit it is proposed. Mr. Malthus,
therefore, concludes, from his review of the history of several
settlements, " that the reason why the resource of emigration
has so long continued to be held out as a remedy to redun-

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 229

dant population is, because, from the natural unwillingness of
people to desert their native country, and the difficulty of
clearing and cultivating fresh soil, it never is, nor can be,
adequately adopted." — B. iii. c. iv. p. 301, 8vo.

And, accordingly, when it is proposed to afford, either at
the expense of government, or from charitable contributions,
such assistance to persons willing to emigrate as may enable
them to surmount the obstacles opposed to them, it is not
unfrequently answered that their maintenance at home would
be less expensive : while on the other hand it is urged that
those who have such a capital as to enable them to emigrate
with advantage, though it would be most unjust to prohibit
them from taking that step, yet ought by no means to be
encouraged in it, because the capital which they withdraw is
so much loss to the mother-country. These objections, how-
ever, though undoubtedly sound and weighty under certain
modifications, will not bear to be pushed to the utmost extreme;
and no one has been more ready to admit this than the
candid and able writer already cited. In a passage almost
immediately following the one we have given, he says, " it is
clear, therefore, that with any view of making room for an
unrestricted increase of population, emigration is perfectly in-
adequate ; but as a partial and temporary expedient, and with
a view to the more general cultivation of the earth, and the
wider extension of civilization, it seems to be both useful and
proper." And in the supplement to his great work, which
was published in 1817, he expresses himself strongly as to the
occasional expediency of emigration :

'" If, from a combination of external and internal causes, a very
great stimulus should be given to the population of a country for
ten or twelve years together, and it should then comparatively
cease, it is clear that labour will continue flowing into the market,
with almost undiminished rapidity, while the means of employing
and paying it have been essentially contracted. It is precisely
under these circumstances that emigration is most useful as a
temporary relief; and it is in these circumstances that Great
Britain finds herself placed at present. Though no emigration

230 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

should take place, the population will by degrees conform itself to
the state of the demand for labour; but the interval must be
marked by the most severe distress, the amount of which can
scarcely be reduced by any human efforts; because, though it may
be mitigated at particular periods, and as it affects particular
classes, it will be proportionally extended over a larger space of
time and a greater number of people. The only real relief in such a
case is emigration; and the subject at the present moment is well
worthy the attention of the government, both as a matter of
humanity and policy." — On Population, vol. ii. pp. 304, 305.

In fact, the expediency of resorting to emigration for the relief
of a distressed population must always depend on a variety of
circumstances, which are to be distinctly considered in each parti-
cular case. But it should not be forgotten that there are cases
in which that mode of relief might be suggested by the wisest
economy, even when the immediate support of the individuals in
question might cost less at home : if, at a somewhat heavier
expense, we have a fair prospect of getting rid of a permanent,
and perhaps (as in the case of an increasing family) a growing
burden ; — if we can, by such an expedient, not only provide for
the individuals in question, but benefit others of the same
class, by lessening the injurious competition in an overstocked
market of labourers, — we may attain advantages which would
have entirely escaped the view of a more short-sighted calculator.

As for the apprehensions of impoverishment to this country
by the transfer of her capital to the other side of the Atlantic,
we are convinced that they are altogether visionary. In the
first place, we may be sure that whatever inducements we may
hold out, few, after all, will be found willing to carry their
capital to Canada, who have a reasonable assurance of deriving
from it the means of living in independence and prosperity at
home ; and those who have not such a prospect, are probably
consulting the interest of their country, as well as their own,
by emigrating. A man, who in the vigour of life, may have
acquired a little capital of £200 or £300, may feel, under
many circumstances, a very reasonable doubt whether he shall
be enabled so to provide for the wants of a numerous family

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 231

and for the infirmities of old age, as to be secure against
becoming dependent, for his children or himself, on parochial
relief or private charity. Surely, in this case, his emigration
to a country where such a capital, with common prudence and
industry, will ensure an independent competence to himself ?
and comparative affluence to his posterity, is rather a relief,
than a loss to his own.

In the second place, since, whatever opinion may be enter-
tained respecting this loss of capital, it is quite certain that men
ivill transfer it from one country, or one employment, to another,
when they find their advantage in so doing, it should be the ob-
ject of the politician to direct that stream which it would not be
possible, even were it desirable, to dam up. We would be the
last to encourage an illiberal jealousy of the United States, or
grudge them the advantages they may derive from this country ;
but it is not going too far to feel a preference, at least, for our own
colonies ; — to wish that they should receive that accession of num-
bers and of capital from English emigration, which has hitherto,
in a majority of instances, been intercepted by a foreign power.

Lastly, it should be remembered that a commercial country,
like this, should not consider all the capital carried out of it as
so much loss : the market for our commodities, which is afforded
by a flourishing and increasing colony, is a source of wealth to
the mother-country far exceeding probably what would have
been produced by the amount of the capital bestowed on it, if
retained at home. It is speaking, we are persuaded, far within
compass, to say that for every £1000 carried out to Upper
Canada, 500 acres of fertile land, which would otherwise have
remained an unprofitable desert, will have been within twenty
years brought under cultivation. Let any one calculate the
supplies of corn and other produce which these 500 acres will
afford us, and the demand for our various manufactures which
they will create in return. Mr. Malthus speaks indeed of the
impolicy of " founding a great empire for the sole purpose of
raising up a people of customers ;" but neither the means nor
the end to which his remarks apply are the same as those now

232 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

under consideration. It is not proposed to lay out the national
capital in founding a colony at the public expense ; but merely
to encourage and facilitate the enterprize of those individuals
who are willing so to employ their own capital. It is impossible
indeed to contemplate attentively the present state of the con-
tinent— the extreme jealousy of this country which prevails in
most parts of it — the zeal for improving their own manufactures,
— together with the superior cheapness of labour, — without
anticipating, as at least probable, a great and progressive
diminution of that enormous demand which has hitherto existed
in Europe for the productions of British enterprize and skill.
With such an expectation before us, nothing can be more con-
solatory than the prospect of that boundless market for our
commodities which seems to be opening in the new world, from
which the other nations of Europe, even should they hereafter
become our rivals there, can never hope to exclude us. In
this point of view, the revolution in Spanish America is likely
to prove of incalculable importance to us : but our own colonies
are on many accounts calculated to offer greater advantages to
our commerce than those of any other country ; our own coun-
trymen possess in a peculiar degree, and are likely to transmit
to their descendants, both a taste for that description of luxuries
which commerce and manufactures furnish, and a persevering
industry in acquiring the means of commanding them: not to
mention the preference generated by habit, for such articles in
particular as are most in use in the mother-country.

There are many, however, who, though friendly to emigra-
tion in general, entertain certain objections to our North Ameri-
can colonies in particular. One of these, the supposed " barren
soil and ungenial climate," we have already noticed; but there
is another, which is not unfrequently acknowledged, and prob-
ably still more frequently felt, viz. a conviction that Canada
must at no distant period fall into the hands of the United
States, and that consequently while we are aiding to colonize
and improve it, we are in effect labouring for the advantage of a
formidable rival.

EMIGRATION TO CANADA, 233

Now, without professing to " look into the womb of time"
quite so far as some transatlantic politicians, we cannot forbear
suggesting a doubt whether the probability here supposed is al-
together well established. We suspect that the confident boasts
of some American writers on this subject have produced an un-
due effect, not only on their own countrymen, but on ours. Let
it not be forgotten how fully and how arrogantly they anticipated
the conquest of Canada at the commencement of the late Ameri-
can war. The parent State was indeed at that time under cir-
cumstances of peculiar difficulty ; exhausted by the length, and
embarrassed by the continuance, of a most desperate struggle in
Europe. Yet the Canadians, amidst all these disadvantages,
amidst the imbecility and despondency of their own commander,
made good the defence of their country against all the efforts
of the Americans. They appear indeed to come short of no
British subjects throughout the world in devoted attachment to
our government, and (what to them is a necessary part of that
attachment) in a rooted aversion to that of the United States.

But it is urged, that though the Americans were not able to
subdue Canada quite so early as they expected, their power is
increasing so rapidly that they must ultimately accomplish it.
Now to any one who examines the map, it will be plain that the
resources of Canada, in improvable territory, are practically in-
exhaustible, no less than those of the United States. Why then,
we would ask, if a proper use is made of these advantages, should
not Canada, we do not say overtake the United States, but at
least preserve the same comparative strength which she has at
present? If in her infancy she has strangled the smaller ser-
pents that assailed her, why may she not, in maturer strength,
successfully encounter the Hydra ?

In fact, however, such are the circumstances of aggressive
war, that its success or failure does not depend entirely on the
relative, but partly also on the absolute, strength of the parties
engaged ; and the greater this is, the less is the advantage of
the assailant: 10,000 men can make a far better defence
against 50,000 invaders, than 10 could against 50; and if the

234 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

wealth and population of Canada and the United States were
each increased exactly tenfold, the former would be in much less
danger of subjugation than at present. We have not, in this
view of the subject, adverted at all to the probability of a sepa-
ration of the United States ; which it would perhaps be rash,
confidently to foretell, but which those who speculate so freely
on future contingencies ought certainly to take into their
account. Nor have we taken any notice of the superior ad-
vantages possessed by Canada in many points, especially its
greater facilities of inland navigation, and the salubrity of its
climate.

Nevertheless we are far from maintaining that Canada is
certain of being a part of the British empire to the end of time,
or even for the next three or four centuries : but what worldly
events are certain, or what possessions eternal ? Our empire in
India has been long since described as precarious ; but the cer-
tainty of its downfall, and the precise limits of its duration, have
not yet been made sufficiently clear by any of our political seers,
to occasion the removal of that immense capital whose security
depends on its continuance. The events which have taken place
in Europe, during the last thirty years, have so baffled all cal-
culations, that we are hardly authorized to call any political
change impossible. It is unreasonable, therefore, to depre-
ciate our Canadian possessions on the ground of an uncertain
tenure, unless it can be shown that they are exposed to very
peculiar and imminent danger : and this we profess our inability
to perceive, at least to any thing like the degree in which some
seem to apprehend it. There is no doubt, however, that pro-
phecies frequently cause their own fulfilment : the patient hardly
stands a fair chance for his life, if he is left to the care of a
physician who is convinced that he cannot possibly recover; and
if our government were unfortunately to act with respect to
Canada, under the conviction that it must inevitably in a few
years be wrested from us, the event would probably confirm their
expectations. If no means of education were provided either in

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 235

England or in Canada, so that those intended for the church1,
and all others who were desirous of education, should resort for
it (as is too generally the case at present) to the colleges of the
United States, from which students return deeply imbued with
prejudices against our constitution both in church and state, —
if no impediment were offered to the retention of large tracts of
land in the hands of those who will not improve them, but wait
for their increasing in value by the labours of others, — if no
measures were taken for facilitating inland navigation, — if, in
short, a general neglect of the interests of the colony prevailed,
and abuse and mismanagement were allowed to creep into all de-
partments of the government, — then indeed it is probable that
the Canadians would not long have either the power or the in-
clination to maintain their connection with this country. And
yet, since no one will suspect that Great Britain would resign
the possession of the colony without a blow, we should still have
to look forward to a contest for it with the United States more
expensive in blood and treasure than any former one.

Such, indeed, as the Canadians have shown themselves in
the late contest, it would be a degradation of the British charac-
ter to abandon or to neglect them : but every motive of policy,
as well as of honour, concurs in recommending that Canada
should, with the utmost diligence, be cherished and fortified.
Should a line of conduct be adopted in all respects opposite to

1 A scheme was proposed, not long
since, of establishing four or five exhi-
bitions of about two hundred pounds
each, for the education, at one of the
English Universities, of native Canadians
designed for the church. Such persons
would be in many respects better quali-
fied for the ministry in that province

principally driven by the want of means
to bear the expense of education in Eng-
land. The amount of the proposed ex-
hibitions is too trifling to deserve a
moment's hesitation, when compared
with the sum total of what Canada costs
us, and with the greatness of the pro-
posed benefit. We are aware that it is

than natives of this country ; (not to | in contemplation to establish a college

mention the difficulty of finding respect-
able persons willing to emigrate in that
capacity ;) and they would have a better
and safer education than they now get
in the United States, to which they are

in Canada : and this may be a ground
for withholding the exhibitions when the
college shall be in full activity ; but a
merely contemplated college educates no
one.

236 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

that which has been above sketched out as tending to its decay,
we see no reason to doubt that the result would be altogether
opposite likewise : and where else shall we find so strong a bar-
rier to the boundless increase of that power which threatens to
prove the most formidable rival that Great Britain has ever en-
countered ?

Let any one but carefully inspect the map, and he will see
that Canada is, as it were, the bridle of the United States; while
at the same time it is the less likely ever to throw off its allegi-
ance to this country, from the apprehensions which it recipro-
cally entertains of its powerful neighbour. We are far from
sanctioning the policy of those who make the fear of remote
danger a plea for immediate warfare, or for hostile precautions ;
but such measures cannot surely be censured as tend at once
both to diminish the probability of a contest, and to strengthen
us in the event of its occurrence ; both which effects, as we have
endeavoured to show, would result from a timely attention to
our Canadian possessions. The requisite measures to be adopted
for advancing the prosperity of the colony, and for deriving from
it the advantages it offers both to the State and to individuals,
are many and various ; some of them fall entirely within the
province of government ; others depend principally on indi-
viduals : we have already noticed several in the course of this
Article, and many more will be suggested by a perusal of the
works reviewed. But if we were asked what is the principal
thing wanted, we should reply, (as Demosthenes did, concerning
action in oratory,) that the first, second, and third requisite is
Information. Information as to where Canada is situated, and
how it is to be reached : — information as to the capital required,
— the articles to be provided, — the spot to be fixed on for set-
tling ; — and, in short, as to every step to be taken. With a view,
principally, to this object, societies have lately been established
in different parts of Canada, which have also raised liberal sub-
scriptions for the relief of those multitudes of our countrymen
who, from having emigrated without knowledge of the means of
procuring subsistence, or from having wasted their little store in

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 237

idle schemes, have been reduced to utter destitution1. A society
is also, we understand, just established in London, whose object
is to correspond with, and further the views of those in Canada.
We heartily wish success to their benevolent exertions; and
with a view to this object, beseech them not to attempt too much
at the commencement. Let them content themselves in the first
instance with communicating information, by handbills and
pamphlets, and opening offices at the ports whence the greatest
number of embarkations take place, at which the applicants
might receive such instructions as would secure them from being
grossly imposed upon with respect to their passage, or at least
from being left at New Brunswick instead of Quebec. After-
wards it might be thought desirable to make some little addition
to the store of those who bore a good character, as likely to
prove industrious and useful settlers, and who had collected
nearly enough of their own to defray their expenses, but needed
some small additional aid.

It has been proposed, we understand, to form a company for
the purchase of lands in Canada, on a plan which promises
greatly to promote its colonization, and which it is supposed
might be carried into effect, not only without ultimately diminish-
ing the funds employed, but so as to afford a reasonable prospect
of considerable profit. Any such scheme, if only so far success-
ful as to cover expenses, would have this decided advantage,
that its beneficial operation might continue indefinitely ; whereas
mere charitable contributions are continually tending to exhaust
their source. The proposed plan is said to have for its object
the accommodation ot those who are competent to the manage-
ment of a Canadian farm, but have not the means of defraying
the expense of the voyage and outfit : persons so situated would
in general accept with eagerness the offer of having these
previous expenses (including the stock, provisions, &c. requisite
to enable them to begin farming) advanced to them, on condi-

1 We are assured, on the best authority, that not less tban thirteen thousand
emigrants arrived in the course of the last season at Quebec.

238 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

tion of occupying as tenants a portion of uncleared land, from
100 to 200 acres, for a term of years (say 21) at a very low
rent, such as would return on the average about one per cent,
on the cost of the land and stock advanced ; and of receiving,
at the end of that term, provided they then replaced the stock
originally advanced, one-third or a half of the land as freehold
property. It has been calculated, that from the immense
increase in value of land brought into cultivation, the portion
remaining to the proprietor, would, together with the stock
replaced, be worth two or three times as much as the capital
originally advanced. The success of any such scheme as this
must evidently depend on the obtaining of proper agents resi-
dent on the spot. The task of such an agent indeed would not
require either great labour or remarkable ability ; but vigilant
attention, and perfect integrity, would be indispensable. We
earnestly hope, however, that no schemes of this nature will be
permitted to interfere with that which ought to be the primary
object — the diffusion of information.

The subjoined estimate of expenses, drawn up by a person of
undoubted knowledge and judgment, is well calculated to further
this object, and may be interesting to such of our readers as
may not have chanced to meet with it :

" 1. Ships sail for Quebec from London, Liverpool, Hull, Glas-
gow, and Cork ; the passage (usually about six weeks or two months)
costs from £7 to £\2 per head, passengers finding their own pro-
visions.

' " 2. Emigrants will do well to take out with them (besides
clothes) bedding, handsaws, hammers, chisels and planes. All other
tools, furniture, &c. they can procure in the country itself.

" 3. If they mean to settle in the Upper Canada, (which is far
preferable, as the climate is much milder, and the language and
society are English,) they will proceed from Quebec to Montreal
(180 miles) by steam-boat; from Montreal to Kingston (180
miles) partly by open boats and partly by steam-boats : from
Kingston there is a steam-boat to the head of Lake Ontario. On
their route they will find different Emigrant Societies, which will
furnish them with any information they may require respecting
obtaining grants of land, &c.

r 70 0

0

. 16 10

0

. 5 0

0

. 10 0

0

. 40 0

0

£111 10

0

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 239

" 4. The following may be given as a rough Estimate of the
necessary expenses of emigration, in the case of a married man, with
four children : — •

£ s. d.
Travelling expenses, (including both the passage by
sea and on the river, together with provisions,) say
Materials and labour for erecting a log-house
Fees paid on receiving a grant of land, (usually
100 acres) ......

For a cow, tools, &c. .....

Subsistence for one year. — N.B. Provisions are
cheaper than in England ....

" It would answer for a farmer who has some capital, to take out
with him a few steady, industrious men, paying their passage, &c.,
on condition of their working for him the first year for their board
and lodging only, and afterwards for such wages as might be agreed
upon.

" 5. The soil of Upper Canada is generally good ; when first
cleared it will produce from twenty to twenty-five bushels of wheat
to the acre. The climate is healthy ; the winters are, indeed, more
severe, and the summers are hotter than in this country ; but no
great inconvenience is experienced therefrom. The harvest season
is usually extremely dry and fine : the hay crops are got in with
very little trouble. Wood fuel is, of course, very abundant."

The communication of such hints as these cannot but be
desirable, even if it should produce no other effect than that of
deterring from the enterprise those who have not the requisite
means, and securing them from the misery which may ensue
from the failure of their hopes.

When, however, emigration is recommended as in any
case desirable, it is natural to inquire what kind of men
should be encouraged to take such a step. This question is
indeed sometimes brought forward as an objection, in the
form of a most tremendous dilemma : " Would you," says
the querist, " send out the idle and profligate, who can do
no good at home ? you would then do the colony more harm
than good. Or would you send out the best and most in-
dustrious men you could find ? this would indeed be a benefit

240 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

to the colony, but a loss to the mother-country, and would be
holding out, as a reward for superior merit, a perpetual exile."

This kind of argument well deserves to have been honoured
with a distinct name by the ancient schools of dialectics ; for it
is applicable, mutatis mutandis, to all subjects, and may be em-
ployed to prove any thing whatever. The principle indeed, on
the assumption of which it proceeds, viz. that the two extremes
of each class comprehend the whole of it, is one which could
not conveniently be acted on ; if it had been, in the case of
Bias's argument for instance, (which is a fine antique specimen
of it,) the human race would probably have long since been
extinct ; for he contended that marriage altogether was to be
avoided, because an eminently beautiful wife might be a source
of jealousy, and a hideously ugly one, of disgust ; but still the
argument is found serviceable for the purposes of an argument ;
i.e. to perplex an opponent. We shall endeavour to pass between
the horns of this dilemma, by replying, that it is neither by the
very best, nor the worst, of our countrymen, that we would see
our colonies stocked ; and as nine-tenths belong neither to the
one description nor the other, this exception produces no great
difficulty. The former class, indeed, are not likely to be induced
to emigrate, as they generally thrive very well at home ; and
the latter are not likely to thrive anywhere.

But in an improved and fully peopled country, and especially
in times like the present, there cannot fail to be great numbers
of persons not deficient in industry and good conduct, who, from
the unfavourable state of the markets, from excessive competi-
tion in every profession and branch of labour, or from casual
misfortunes, find themselves either at a loss to obtain a com-
fortable independent maintenance for themselves or their fami-
lies, or excluded from the prospect of some respectable situation
in life, or perhaps of some matrimonial union, on which their
hopes had been fixed. To persons so situated, emigration seems
to be precisely the appropriate resource. It need not be appre-
hended that all the facilities and encouragement, or even all the
persuasion and assistance, that can be bestowed, will ever induce

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 241

those to emigrate who are so circumstanced, and so disposed, as
to be contented with their lot at home ; and if they are not,
their departure is not to be regretted. But it does not follow
that all such are of so restless and dissatisfied a temper, that they
will never be steady and contented anywhere. For instance, sup-
pose a strong attachment to exist between a young couple, who
are, perhaps, secure from indigence in a single state, but have no
prospect of decently bringing up and providing for a family ; if
they are uneasy at being compelled to renounce an object, the
desire of which is so natural, and, in itself, so blameless, are
they therefore to be reckoned among those restless characters,
who are impatient of every hardship and privation, and unfit for
any settled and regular course of life ? If, indeed, the violence
of a romantic passion prompts them to set at defiance the dic-
tates of prudence, and to marry without a reasonable prospect of
supporting their offspring, they are much to be blamed ; though
even in that case they are generally prepared and willing to
undergo much toil and privation, though they may have over-
rated the prospects of success. Now there is no reason why
persons so situated may not prove industrious and prosperous
settlers. They will have difficulties and hardships to encounter,
— for these we have supposed them prepared ; but these difficul-
ties and hardships are all at the beginning of their course.
Instead of having to look forward to a continual increase of
them, as their family increases, — to regret the past, and dread
the future, more and more, each succeeding season, they will
find their prospects growing continually brighter, and their
resources more abundant. Year after year the forest recedes
before the persevering cultivator : fresh fields are clothed with
corn or herbage ; his cattle multiply ; his increasing produce
enables him to proceed with still greater rapidity in extending
his improvements ; the log-hut is enlarged into a convenient
dwelling, and fitted up with those articles of comfort and
luxury which perhaps he had at first been compelled to forego ;
and his children inherit, in the place of an unproductive thicket,
a fertile and well stocked farm.

w. E. R

242 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

It is not too much to say that the degree of industry,
frugality, and temperance, which are absolutely essential to
enable a person in the middling or lower orders, in this country,
to maintain his station in society, and preserve himself from
want, are in Canada, sufficient to raise him to comparative
wealth. We know from most respectable authority, that one
of the wealthiest individuals of a considerable town of Upper
Canada, arrived in that country as an emigrant, with no other
property than the axe with which he was to labour. And
though several fortunate circumstances must have concurred to
produce such an extraordinary degree of success, there is no
presumption in calculating, in the case of every settler, on an
independent competence, as the natural result of steadiness and
good conduct.

It is not, however, generally speaking, desirable, that men
should be encouraged to go out as mere labourers, without
having either more money than just enough to pay their passage,
or any preconcerted arrangement for obtaining employment
when they arrive ; and especially is such a step to be deprecated
in the case of those who have families. Much severe distress
has been the consequence of such imprudence ; for though there
are perhaps many settlers who would be glad to hire them, yet
from their remote and scattered situations, and the difficulties
of communication, much time may elapse before their mutual
wants are made known to the parties, so that the demand and
supply may be brought to balance each other ; and in the mean
time the emigrant is perhaps starving in a strange country. It
was for the relief of this distress, the amount of which has been
very great, that the societies to which we have already alluded
were first established in Canada.

The best plan perhaps would be that which is hinted at in
the printed statement ; viz. that those who are emigrating as
farmers should, either at their own expense or otherwise, take
out with them such labourers as they might personally know,
or have good assurance of, as honest, steady, and skilful ; mak-
ing some bargain with them beforehand, as to the time and

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 243

terms of the engagement. Arrangements might also be made
through the medium of such societies as those already established
in Canada and in London, for supplying with labourers the
settlers already established there, many of whom probably
would be glad to receive men bringing from this country testi-
monials as to character.

One description of workmen, who would be especially well-
suited to the colony, is not, perhaps, so frequent in this country
now, as formerly, viz. a Jack-of- all-trades. In some remote dis-
tricts, such artisans are still prized ; but, in proportion to the
increase of population, and the consequent subdivision of labour,
they fall into disrepute. As Plato remarks of a certain class
of philosophers, (who, notwithstanding the lofty appellation
bestowed on them, were neither more nor less than artists of
this description,) no one chuses to employ the one man who can
do many things tolerably, when he can have access to several
who can do each of them excellently : and hence, though in
general men of superior ingenuity, their poverty is become pro-
verbial. They have accordingly the more reason to try their
fortune in a young settlement, which is exactly their proper
field. A scattered population, bad roads, remoteness from
towns, and a novel situation, leave in a most helpless condition
the man who has concentrated all his powers in learning to
perform some one operation very skilfully, and who has no
resources.

It would appear indeed that from this cause a nation like
our own, in which the subdivision of labour has been brought to
the utmost perfection, is less fitted for furnishing colonists than
one which has made far less progress in the arts. To illustrate
this by a single instance — no one can doubt that the querns, or
hand-mills, which were in use not long since in the Highlands,
as well as among the ancients, occasioned much waste of labour,
and that a great accession of wealth has been gained by the
powerful machinery which is now employed : but if we look to
the case of a new settlement, the picture is reversed ; we find,
in the Illinois district, the farmer obliged sometimes to carry

r 3

244 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.

his corn fifty miles, through bad roads, to the nearest mill, and
to wait when he comes there, perhaps a week, before his turn
comes to have it ground; yet he submits to this evil as utterly
irremediable. What a prodigious saving of labour would a
colony of highlanders with their querns have in this case
obtained ! We really think that the manufacture of hand-
mills, or of small horse-mills for this purpose, would be well
worth the consideration of those who are interested in the pros-
perity of the Canadian settlers.

Perhaps too the society we have been speaking of may
hereafter be led to adopt the plan of establishing a kind of
mechanical school in this country, for communicating a slight
degree of instruction in several of the most necessary arts. It
would take but a very short time to make a man a tolerable
carpenter, smith, &c, and the acquisition would be, in a new
settlement, invaluable. We have no doubt, however, that the
combined activity of intelligent individuals on both sides of the
Atlantic, guided by local knowledge, and stimulated by benevo-
lent zeal, will in time, if their numbers and funds should be-
come considerable, devise and bring into practice every expe-
dient, as far as the power of individuals extends, by which the
prosperity of the colony may be promoted. And if the fostering
hand of government is extended, to afford free scope for their
exertions, — to co-operate with them, where its aid is indispens-
able,— and to rectify from time to time the various abuses
which must be expected to creep in, — we see every reason to
anticipate both a valuable resource to the redundant population
of this country, and a great accession of strength to our trans-
atlantic dominions, by the diversion thither of the better part
of that tide of emigrants which is now poured into the terri-
tories of the United States. We say, the better part, because
there are doubtless many emigrants of a character which would
not promise much benefit to the colony ; and one of the chief
advantages perhaps which would result from the labours of a
well-constituted society for promoting emigration, would be the
careful selection of proper persons on whom to bestow their

EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 245

encouragement and assistance. Those in whom a rooted aver-
sion to our constitution in church and state is one of the prin-
cipal inducements for emigrating to republican America, it
would neither be easy nor desirable to divert from their purpose.
That is the best place for them. If they are disappointed in
finding that a democratical government and the absence of a
church-establishment do not imply freedom from taxes, and the
universal diffusion of virtue and happiness ; though their hopes
are not gratified, their complaints, at least, will be silenced, or
at any rate will cease to disturb our government. There may
nevertheless be many, who, though not radically corrupt in their
notions, nor altogether hostile to our government and religion,
may have been goaded by the pressure of distress, combined
with the inflammatory declamations of designing men, to feel a
great degree of impatience of the burden of taxes, tithes, and
poor-rates ; and such men may become, by the removal of the
cause of their irritation, loyal and peaceable subjects in that
part of the empire which is entirely exempt from those burdens.
At least their angry feelings will have time and opportunity to
subside, in a country where there are no tumultuous meetings
in populous towns of unemployed manufacturers ; but where all
their neighbours, as well as themselves, have something better
to do (as Mr. Gourlay found by experience) than to set about
new modelling the constitution ; — where the chief reform called
for is to convert forests into corn-fields, in which no one will
hinder them from laying the axe to the root of the evil ; — and
in wdnch the desire of novelty may be fully gratified, without
destroying established institutions ; — where, in short, the whole
structure of society is to be built up, without being previously
pulled down.

II.

TRANSPORTATION.

1. Report from the Select Committee on Criminal Commitments

and Convictions. 1828.

2. New South Wales. Return to an Address of the Honourable the
Mouse of Commons, dated 1 May, 1828, for a Copy of a Report
by the late Major General Macquarie, &c. and an Extract of
a Letter from Major General Macquarie to Earl Bathurst in
October 1823, in answer to a certain part of the Report of Mr.
Commissioner Bigge on the State of the said Colony, &c.

3. Two Tears in New South Wales ; comprising Sketches of the
actual state of Society in that Colony ; of its peculiar advan-
tages to Emigrants; of its Topography, Natural History, dkc.
&c. By P. Cunningham, Surgeon, R.N. 2 vols. Second
edition, revised and enlarged. 1827.

We remember to have heard an anecdote of a gentleman
who in riding through the deep and shady Devonshire lanes,
became entangled in the intricacies of their numberless wind-
ings ; and not being able to obtain a sufficiently wide view of
the country to know whereabouts he was, trotted briskly on,
in the confident hope that he should at length come to some
house whose inhabitants would direct him, or to some more
open spot from which he could take a survey of the different
roads, and observe whither they led. After proceeding a long
time in this manner, he was surprised to find a perfect uni-
formity in the country through which he passed, and to meet
with no human Being, or come in sight of any habitation.
He was however encouraged by observing, as he advanced,
the 'prints of horses' feet, which indicated that he was in no
unfrequented track : these became continually more and more
numerous the further he went, so as to afford him a still

TRANSPORTATION. 247

increasing assurance of his being in the immediate neighbour-
hood of some great road or populous village ; and he accord-
ingly paid the less anxious attention to the bearings of the
country, from being confident that he was in the right way.
But still he saw neither house nor human creature ; and, at
length, the recurrence of the same objects by the roadside
opened his eyes to the fact, that all this time, misled by the
multitude of the turnings, he had been riding in a circle;
and that the footmarks, the sight of which had so cheered him,
were those of his own horse ; their number, of course, increasing
with every circuit he took. Had he not fortunately made this
discovery, perhaps he might have been riding there now.

The truth of the tale (and we can assure our readers that
we at least did not invent it) does not make it the less useful
by way of apologue : and the moral we would deduce from it
is, that in many parts of the conduct of life, and not least in
government and legislation, men are liable to follow the track of
their own footsteps, — to set themselves an example, — and to
flatter themselves that they are going right, from their con-
formity to their own precedent.

It is commonly and truly said, when any new and untried
measure is proposed, that we cannot fully estimate the incon-
veniences it may lead to in practice; but we are convinced this
is even still more the case with any system which has long been
in operation. The evils to which it may contribute, and the
obstacles it may present to the attainment of any good, are
partly overlooked or lightly regarded, on account of their fami-
liarity, partly attributed to such other causes as perhaps really
do co-operate in producing the same effects ; and ranked along
with the unavoidable alloys of human happiness, the inconve-
niences from which no human policy can entirely exempt us.
In some remote and unimproved districts, if you complain of
the streets of a town being dirty and dark, as those of London
were for many ages, the inhabitants tell you that the nights are
cloudy and the weather rainy : as for their streets, they are
just such as they have Iqng been ; and the expedient of paving

248 TRANSPORTATION.

and lighting has occurred to nobody. The ancient Romans
had probably no idea that a civilized community could exist
without slaves. That the same work can be done much better
and cheaper by freemen, and that their odious system con-
tained the seeds of the destruction of their empire, were truths
which, familiarized as they were to the then existing state of
society, they were not likely to suspect. " If you allow of no
plundering," said an astonished Mahratta chief to some English
officers, " how is it possible for you to maintain such fine armies
as you bring into the field?" He and his ancestors time out
of mind had doubtless been following their own footsteps in the
established routine ; and had accordingly never dreamed that
pillage is inexpedient as a source of revenue, or even one that
can possibly be dispensed with. Recent experiment, indeed,
may bring to light and often exaggerate the defects of a
new system ; but long familiarity blinds us to those very
defects.

What we would infer from these general remarks, is the
importance of reviewing, from time to time, those parts of our
legislative system which are supposed to have the sanction of
experience, but to whose real consequences our eyes are likely
to have been blinded by custom. Custom may bring men to
consider many evils unavoidable, merely because they have
never hitherto been avoided ; and to reason like those Arabs
of whom the story is related, who concluded that a country
must be miserable which had no date- trees, merely because
dates had always been, to them, the staff of life. Nothing, in-
deed, should be hastily altered on the ground merely that it is
not, in practice, perfect ; since this is not to be expected of
any system. And we should remember also that custom will
often blind men to the good, as well as to the evil effects, of
any long established system. The agues engendered by a
marsh, (like that ancient one which bore the name and sur-
rounded the city of Camarina,) and which have so long been
common as to be little regarded, may not be its only effects ; it
may be also a defence against an enemy. The CamarinEeans

TRANSPORTATION. 249

having drained the swanipi, their city became healthy, but was
soon after besieged and taken. The preventive effects, indeed,
whether good or evil, of any long established system, are hardly
ever duly appreciated. But though no law or system, whether
actually existing or proposed, can be expected to be unex-
ceptionable, or should have its defects pointed out without any
notice of corresponding advantages, it is most important to
examine every measure, whether new or old, and to try it on
its intrinsic merits ; always guarding against the tendency to
acquiesce without inquiry into the necessity of any existing
practice. In short, we should, on the one hand, not venture
rashly on untrodden paths without a careful survey of the
country ; and, on the other hand, be ever on our guard against
following in confident security the track of our own footsteps.

We have no intention of entering, at present, on so wide
a field as the examination of the subject of crimes and punish-
ments generally : but we wish to call the attention of our
readers to the consideration of one particular class of them
with reference to the existing state of the law among ourselves.
The subject is not an agreeable one ; but as long as crimes
exist, and punishments are, in consequence, necessary to check
them, there can hardly be one of much greater importance.
The theory of punishment is usually regarded as too elementary
to require or admit of a detailed discussion : but it often
happens that principles are, in practice, overlooked, from the
very circumstance of their being so obvious as to be never dis-
puted, and, consequently, seldom adverted to. And it will be
found accordingly in this, oftener perhaps than in any other
subject, that the same truths which, when stated generally, are
regarded as truisms not worth insisting on, will, in their prac-
tical application, be dreaded as the most startling paradoxes.
We are convinced, therefore, that those who are best acquainted
with the subject, will be the least disposed to complain of our

1 In opposition to the oracle

Mi) k'ivu Kanapivav, aKtv7jro£ yap afisivuv.

250 TRANSPORTATION.

laying down distinctly in the outset, the principles from which
our deductions are made.

We may be allowed then to premise the remark, that there
are three, and only three objects, with a view to which punish-
ments can be inflicted or threatened : 1st. Retribution, or ven-
geance;— a desire to allot a proportionate suffering to each
degree of moral guilt, independent of any ulterior consideration,
and solely with a view to the past ill-desert of the offender :
2dly. What may be called correction ; — the prevention of a
repetition of offence by the same individual; whether by his
reformation or removal: 3dly. The prevention of the offence,
generally, by the terror of a punishment denounced; whether
that object be attained by the example of a culprit suffering
the penalty, or, simply, by the mere threat and apprehension of
it. To these appropriate objects may be added another, in-
cidental advantage, not belonging to punishments, as such, but
common to them with other legislative enactments ; — the public
benefit, in an economical point of view, which may be, con-
ceivably, derived directly from a punishment ; as when crimi-
nals are usefully employed on any public work, so as to make
in that way some compensation to society for the injury done
to it. Such a compensation, however, we should remember,
must necessarily be so very inadequate, that this object should
always be made completely subordinate to the main end or ends
proposed in the denunciation of punishment.

And what is to be regarded as the great object ? All pro-
bably would admit, in the abstract, whatever they may do in
practice, that it is the preventi on of crime. As for the first of
the purposes just enumerated, the infliction of just vengeance
on the guilty, it is clearly out of Mail's province. Setting aside
the consideration that the circumstances on which moral guilt
depends, the inward motives of the offender, his temptations,
and the opportunities he may have had of learning his duty,
can never be perfectly known but to the Searcher of hearts, —
setting aside this, it does not appear that Man, even if the de-
grees of moral turpitude could be ascertained by him, would

TRANSPORTATION. 251

have a right to inflict on his fellow-man any punishment what-
ever, whether heavy or light, of which the ultimate object
should be, the suffering of the offender. Such a procedure, in
individuals, is distinctly forbidden by the Founder of our
religion, as a sinful revenge: and it does not appear how in-
dividuals combined into a community can impart to that com-
munity any right which none of them individually possessed ; —
can bestow, in short, on themselves what is not theirs to bestow.
Our Saviour and his apostles did not mean to deprive even
an individual of the right of defending (when there is no other
defence to be had) his own person and property ; and this
right he is competent to transfer, and is considered as having
transferred, to the community ; but they meant to forbid the
" rendering of evil for evil," for its own sake. And as no one
man is authorized to do this, or can authorize others to ex-
ercise such a right, even over himself, so neither can ten men
or ten millions possess any such right to inflict vengeance : for
" vengeance is mine, saith the Lord."

Of the other two, which are legitimate objects of punish-
ment, the prevention of a repetition of the offence by the same
individual, whether by his reform or removal, is clearly of
incalculably less importance (desirable as it is in itself) than
the other, the prevention of crime generally, by the terror of
example or of threat. If we could, however, completely attain
the other objects, by some expedient which would yet fail ,
of, or very inadequately accomplish, this last, such a system
must be at once pronounced inefficacious. Could we be sure
of accomplishing the reformation of every convicted criminal,
at the same time making his services available to the Public,
yet if the method employed should be such as to deter no one
from committing the offence, society could not exist under such
a system. On the other hand, if the punishment denounced
had no other tendency whatever but to deter, and could be
completely effectual in that, it is plain that it would entirely
supersede all other expedients, since it would never even be in-
flicted. This truth, though self-evident, is frequently over-

252 TRANSPORTATION.

looked in practice, from the necessary imperfection of all our
expedients. Hardly any denunciation of punishment ever was
thus completely effectual ; and thence men are often led to look
to the actual infliction as the object contemplated. Whereas it
is evident that every instance of the infliction of a punishment,
is an instance, as far as it goes, of the failure of the legislator's
design. No axiom in Euclid can be more evident than that the
object of the legislator in enacting that murderers shall be
hanged, and pilferers imprisoned or transported, is, not to load
the gallows, fill the jail, and people New Holland, but to pre-
vent the commission of murder and theft ; and that conse-
quently every man who is hanged, or transported, or confined,
is an instance " pro tanto," of the inefficacy {i.e. want of com-
plete efficacy) of the law. The imprisonment may reform the
offender; death removes him from the possibility of again
troubling society ; and the example may in either case operate
to deter others in future ; but the very necessity of inflicting
the punishment, proves that the dread of that punishment has,
so far at least, failed of producing the desired effect. This
absolute perfection indeed — the entire prevention of crime — is a
point unattainable ; but it is a point to which we may approach
indefinitely ; — it is the point towards which our measures must
be always tending, and we must estimate their wisdom by the
degrees of their approach to it.

We have dwelt, at the risk of being thought tedious, on
these first principles, because many of the maxims inevitably
resulting from them are so perpetually violated in practice, that
some persons would even be startled at the inculcation of them :

because, in short, the present case is one where the premises

pass for truisms, and the conclusions, frequently, for extravagant
paradoxes. Even those who are too intelligent and too well
taught not to be fully aware of the true end of human punish-
ments, are perpetually liable to be led into a forgetfulness of it
by the circumstance that the same action may be at once a sin
and a crime — an act of moral turpitude, and also one calling for
legal punishment on grounds of political expediency ; — yet may

TRANSPORTATION. 253

be of incalculably different magnitude according as it is viewed
in this light or in that ; and may be even aggravated in the one
point of view, by the very circumstances which extenuate it in
the other. So that if we lose sight for a moment of the pre-
cise object with which we are considering any offence, we are
liable to draw a conclusion not only wide of the truth, but
exactly opposite to it. E.g. it is plain that the strength of the
temptations to any offence is an extenuation of the moral guilt
of the offender ; and it is no less plain, and is a rule on which
legislators act — as in the case of stealing sheep and other neces-
sarily exposed property — that this very circumstance calls for
the heavier punishment to counterbalance it, in order to prevent
the offence. Yet we have known an intelligent writer, doubtless
well aware of this principle, but losing sight of it through the
inadvertency just alluded to, contend for the justice of a more
severe punishment in the case of offenders whose temptations
are less, in consideration of the increased moral guilt of the
offence. After remarking that confinement to hard labour, &c.
is a far severer infliction on persons of the higher ranks, he
adds, that rank and education ought not to lighten punishment,
because if they make the feelings more susceptible to an equal
infliction, it must be remembered also that the moral restraint
and social obligation were the stronger, and that the violation of
them merits a severer suffering. And so it does, in a moral
point of view ; which is evidently that which the author was
inadvertently taking ; forgetting, for the moment, the proper
end of legislative enactments. Into the very same error no less
a writer than Adam Smith has been betrayed, in condemning
the punishments denounced against smuggling for being more
severe in proportion to the strength of the temptation ; which,
he says, is contrary to the principles of just legislation. ( Wealth
of Nations, p. v. c. 2.)

But to proceed to our inquiry ; there is no question perhaps
more perplexing to the legislator than the treatment of that
class of offenders whose crimes fall short of capital, and yet are
such as cannot be adequately repressed by pecuniary mulct, or

254 TRANSPORTATION.

such corporal chastisements as are now in use among us. The
majority of offences of this description are at present visited by
sentence of transportation. We say " sentence of transporta-
tion," because in a large proportion of cases, including a great
majority of those in which the sentence is for seven years only,
actual transportation is not the punishment inflicted ; but con-
finement with hard labour, either on board the hulks or in the
penitentiary, is substituted, either for the whole term, or for
some part of it.

" Die, .... quo discrimine, ripas
Hae linquunt, illse remis vada livida verrunt."

There may be reasons to justify such a system of uncertainty ;
but they ought to be very strong ones ; for it seems on the face
of it open to many objections. It is universally admitted that
the certainty of punishment, i. e. of receiving some punishment,
is far more effectual in deterring from crime than severity ;
because the same kind of disposition which leads men to ven-
ture in a lottery, viz., the tendency to calculate on their own
good luck, makes them more willing to run some small risk of a
very heavy penalty, than to encounter a certainty, or nearly a
certainty, of the lightest. In fact, if every man could be quite
sure of being speedily visited, though with a moderate punish-
ment for every transgression, hardly any would ever incur it.
And this is the point to which, though not perfectly attainable,
we should always endeavour to approach as nearly as possible.
Now it seems to be consonant to this principle, that we should
remove, as far as can be done, every kind of uncertainty in
reference to punishments. And though it is out of man's power
to insure the detection and conviction of every offender, it evi-
dently is possible to let every one know beforehand the pre-
cise meed of punishment which will await him in case of his
being convicted. This, we say, is possible to be done to the
fullest extent; but should fchut be, for any reason, judged incon-
venient, at least there should be as little uncertainty as possible.
For otherwise, may it not be inferred from the natural character

TRANSPORTATION. 255

of man, that each malefactor, in addition to the chances of
escaping conviction, will, and does console himself with the
hope of undergoing that species of punishment which, to him,
is the lightest? Like a party of gamblers at rouge et noir, all
buoyed up with hope, some in the confidence that success will
attend the red, others the black, convicts who have taken
tickets in our penal lottery, flatter themselves with opposite
hopes ; he who dreads nothing so much as a penitentiary, that
he shall only be transported ; and he who is most afraid (if there
be any such) of expatriation, that he shall not be transported,
but left in the penitentiary or the hulks.

We are aware that no penalty can be devised which shall be
of precisely equal severity to every one who undergoes it : a
punishment which is the most dreaded by one man, on account
of his peculiar feelings and habits, is to another, of opposite
habits, comparatively light. Nor, again, can any system be
framed which will allot, with perfect regularity, to each class of
characters, the punishment most dreaded by each. But one of
the inconveniences, and perhaps one of the greatest, of the
system of complete uncertainty to which we have been object-
ing, is that it precludes the legislature from profiting by ex-
perience ; indeed, from acquiring any, concerning the respective
efficacy of different kinds of punishment. For it should be
remembered that, with a view to the main object, prevention, it
is, in all cases, the expectation, not the infliction of the punish-
ment, that does good ; the only benefit that can arise from the
example of the infliction being, the excitement in others of this
expectation ; — the wholesome terror of suffering the like. Now
this benefit can only exist as far as men are led to anticipate
for themselves, in case of a similar offence, a similar suffering.
The infliction of a whipping is no example to thieves on the mere
ground that the person so chastised is a thief and is whipped
for it, but on the ground that other thieves may expect hereafter
to be whipped. Yet this maxim, truism as it is, is practically
violated in every instance in which it is left to chance to decide
which, out of several different punishments, a certain convict

256 TRANSPORTATION.

shall receive. There are then no means of judging which of
these are more, and which less, efficacious in deterring offenders.
A certain kind of punishment, we will suppose, may be inflicted
on a considerable number of convicts, without any diminution
of that class of offences ; and yet, for aught we know, this very
punishment may be an object of dread to those very men, and
might have deterred most of them, if they had been assured
what punishment awaited them. The labourer at the hulks, if
we could clive into his thoughts, might perhaps be found to have
offended, not in defiance of the hulks, but of transportation :
and he who groans under solitary confinement, might prove to
be one who thought little of imprisonment among good company
on board the hulks. As long as this uncertainty remains, all
our judgments respecting the comparative efficacy of punish-
ments must remain involved in equal uncertainty. No legislator
can decide *what penalty malefactors most dread, unless he
knows what they expect. On the other hand, any penalty which
should be invariably inflicted on a certain class of offenders,
even should it prove wholly ineffectual, wrould at least have
served the purpose of an experiment ; we should have ascertained
its inefficacy, and might proceed to change it for another. But
on the opposite plan, our practice neither springs from ex-
perience, nor tends to produce experience ; we cannot refer
effects to their causes ; but are left to proceed by guess and at
random from beginning to end.

Now if it be the fact, and we shall presently proceed to show
that it is at least highly probable, that actual transportation is,
to most offenders, either a very slight punishment, or a reward,
it will be evident from what has been just said that this circum-
stance will not only nullify the effect of transportation itself as
a preventive of crime, but will also impair the efficacy of such
other penalties as are liable to be commuted for it. It is opening
a door to hope. And in legal enactments the same rule holds
good as in mechanics : nothing is stronger than its weakest
part. If a poor man is convinced (we wish the supposition were
impossible and inconceivable) that a trip to Botany Bay would

TRANSPORTATION. 257

be the best thing that could befall him, he may be even tempted
by such a belief, to steal a sheep in the hope of a free passage,
and to run the risk of being sent to the hulks instead, trust-
ing that he shall have better luck than that : especially if there
be some aggravation in his offence, which will procure him a
sentence of fourteen instead of seven years ; in which case
actual transportation is much the more likely to be the conse-
quence.

But can there be any, some of our readers will perhaps say,
to whom transportation really is no punishment ? Doubtless to
a person in a tolerably comfortable situation in his own country,
and whose habits are quiet and regular, a four months' voyage,
and a settlement, either permanent or temporary, at the antipodes,
is likely to be felt as a grievous exile ; to say nothing of the
abridgement of liberty, and compulsory labour. But the higher
classes, or indeed those in any class, will fall into great errors, if
they judge too hastily of the feelings of others by their own,
and conclude that every thing must be felt by all as a punish-
ment, which would be such to themselves. If a fine lady or
gentleman were promised a sight of a criminal sentenced to
hard labour, and were to be shown a man occupied all day in
raking mud out of a ditch, and dining on hard dumpling with
dripping poured over it, (the Suffolk dainty,) they might per-
haps think his punishment too severe, and might be surprised
to be told that he was after all no criminal, but an honest
labourer, who was very well satisfied to get such good employ-
ment ; and that, though probably he would be glad of better
diet, more beer, and less work, he would find himself as uncom-
fortable if confined to the mode of life and occupations of those
who pitied him, as they would be in the scene of his highest
enjoyment, the chimney-corner of a dirty alehouse. In fact,
the great mass of mankind are sentenced to hard labour, by the
decree of Providence. And though a tolerably steady character,
in tolerable circumstances, will usually prefer undergoing this
lot in " his own, his native land," to the chance of even better-
ing his condition in another, it is well known that all men are
w. e. s

258 TRANSPORTATION.

not steady characters, nor all in even tolerable circumstances :
multitudes are every way exposed to the trials of " malesuada
fames, ac turpis egestas."

The man who is able and willing to work hard, yet is unable
with his utmost exertions to provide bare necessaries for his wife
and family without resorting to parish relief, — the man who, with-
out being incorrigibly idle, has a distaste for steady hard work,
rewarded with a bare subsistence, and a taste for the luxuries of
the lower orders, yet cannot acquire them by honest means, — the
man who by his irregularities has so far hurt his character that
he cannot obtain employment except when hands are scarce, —
these, and many other very common descriptions of persons, are
so situated that transportation can hardly be expected to be viewed
by them as any punishment. As a punishment, we mean, when
viewed in comparison with the alternative of living by honest
industry : for it would be absurd to say that, to lazy vagabonds,
the necessity of labour is itself a punishment : they dislike it in-
deed, but they cannot avoid it by abstaining from crime. Labour
they must at any rate, or else steal or starve ; and that only can
operate as a preventive punishment which it is in one's power to
avoid by good conduct. It would be ridiculous to exhort a poor
man not to subsist by stealing but by hard labour, lest he should
be condemned to hard labour ! If every thing that a man dislikes
is to be regarded as therefore a punishment to him, we might
hope to deter people from stealing by the threat of merely com-
pelling them to restore what they steal ; for they all probably
would agree with Falstaif in " hating restitution, as double
trouble." Yet a man would be reckoned an idiot, who should
say, " Brave the cold contentedly in your own clothes, and do
not steal my cloak ; for if you do, I will — if I can catch you —
make you pull it off again."

We should apologize for noticing a truth so obvious were we
not convinced that it is often overlooked, in consequence of the
difference, in effect, of the same sentence, on different persons.
To one brought up in refinement, a sentence to wield the spade
or axe, and live on plentiful though coarse food for seven years,

TRANSPORTATION. 259

would be felt as a very heavy punishment for flagrant miscon-
duct, and might induce him to abstain from such misconduct >
to the majority of mankind, it is the very bonus held out for
good conduct.

To the great bulk of those, therefore, who are sentenced to
transportation, the punishment amounts to this, that they are
carried to a country whose climate is delightful, producing in
profusion all the necessaries and most of the luxuries of life ; —
that they have a certainty of maintenance, instead of an uncer-
tainty; are better fed, clothed, and lodged, than (by honest means)-
they ever were before; have an opportunity of regaling themselves
at a cheap rate with all the luxuries they are most addicted to ;
— and if their conduct is not intolerably bad, are permitted, even
before the expiration of their term, to become settlers on a fertile
farm, which with very moderate industry they may transmit as
a sure and plentiful provision to their children. Whatever other
advantages this system may possess, it certainly does not look
like a very terrific punishment. iEsop, we are told, remon-
strated with a man who, when bitten by a dog, attempted the
superstitious cure for the wound by giving the beast bread
dipped in the blood : if the dogs, said he, find this out, they
will all fall upon us in hopes of these sops. We fear the shrewd
old fabulist would entertain similar apprehensions from what is
called our humane system of laws.

Perhaps therefore, all things considered, it is as well that
the execution of such a sentence should take place in the other
hemisphere, that the lower orders in England may have the less
opportunity of comparing their own condition with that of the
convicts : if the punishment really were a punishment likely to
strike terror, there would be a very serious objection to its
being removed so far from the knowledge or notice of those
whom it is designed to deter. But let any man of common
sense judge how far those under a temptation to any crime are
likely to be deterred, by a knowledge of such facts as Mr.
Cunningham among others lays before us : —

s3

260 TRANSPORTATION.

" I question much, however, whether many English labourers
live better than our convict servant here, whose weekly ration con-
sists of a sufficiency of flour to make four quartern loaves at least ;
of seven pounds of beef; two ounces of tea, one pound of sugar, and
two ounces of tobacco, with the occasional substitution of two or
three quarts of milk daily for the tea and sugar allowance. Numbers
of the English working poor would doubtless be happy to bargain
for such a diet ; and thus their situation might in these points be
bettered, by their being placed upon an equality with convicts .'"

The natives of the sister-island, it seems, have their eyes
more speedily opened to the advantages of their lot than our-
selves : —

" The Irish convicts are more happy and contented with their
situation on board than the English, although more loth to leave
their country, even improved as the situation of the great body of
them is by being thus removed, — numbers telling me they had never
been half so well off in their lives before. It was most amusing to
read the letters they sent to their friends on being fairly settled on
board, (all such going through the surgeon's hands,) none ever
failing to give a most circumstantial account of what the breakfast,
dinner, and supper, consisted of; a minute list of the clothes sup-
plied, and generally laying particular e.mphasis on the important fact
of having a blanket and bed to ' my own self entirely J which seemed
to be somewhat of a novelty by their many circumlocutions about
it. One observed, in speaking of the ship, that ' Mr. Reedy's parlour
was never half so clane,' while the burden of another was, ' Many a
Mac in your town, if he only knew what the situation of a convict
was, would not be long in following my example ! thank God for the
same ! I never was better off in my life !' "

This dangerous knowledge however does, not unfrequently,
reach this country also ; and may be expected to be more and
more generally diffused, and to lead to its natural results.
Sundry instances have come under our own observation, (and
many of our readers probably could multiply them to a great
extent, if each would note down such as he hears of on good
authority,) of convicts writing home to their friends in England
in the same style of self-congratulation, and exhorting such of
them as are in a distressed situation to use their best endeavours
to obtain a passage to a land where such cheering prospects

TRANSPORTATION. 261

await them. Two instances we know, of a master, and a mis-
tress, who had each been robbed by a servant subsequently
transported, receiving a friendly greeting, in one of the in-
stances personally, in the other, by a letter, accompanied by a
present, with acknowledgments of former kindness, from these
very servants, who had realized large property, one of them
in New Holland, the other in Van Diemen's Land. The latter
seriously urged her mistress to come out and join her, pro-
mising herself to patronize and assist her, and holding out
the certainty of making a fortune ! It is most consolatory,
no doubt, to reflect how thrifty and well conducted these in-
dividuals must, in all likelihood, have become, and to observe
their dutiful gratitude. But gold may be bought too dear.
Is it worth while to hold out a temptation which will be the
means of spoiling one thousand servants, for the sake of trying
how effectually we can reform half a dozen of them : —

" Only to show with how small pain,
A wound like this is healed again ? "

Shall we, in short, to cure one bite, throw a sop to the dog,
which will bring a whole pack upon us ?

It may perhaps be said, that such instances of rapid accu-
mulation of wealth must be very rare ; and that many of the
accounts transmitted are probably much overcharged. We
should answer, so much the worse. The mischief is done, not
by the attainment of these advantages in New South Wales, but
by the expectation of them excited at home : a very few prizes
of twenty or thirty thousand pounds will induce multitudes to
take tickets ; false descriptions may excite real hopes ; and if
the credulous are allured by these hopes, it is no comfort to
think that they are ultimately disappointed ; on the contrary,
it is an aggravation of the evil, since our object is, not the in-
fliction of suffering, but the excitement of a salutary dread of it,
at the least expense of actual pain that is compatible with that
object. If it were possible that we could carry offenders to an
Elysium, and at the same time succeed in keeping up the belief

262 TRANSPORTATION.

that they were carried to a Tartarus, this would be of all
things the most desirable ; but if they expect, whether truly or
not, a passage to Elysium, our object is completely defeated : as
long as such hopes, however visionary, are kept up, we must
expect to find the distressed or discontented part of the commu-
nity resembling (according to the felicitous allusion to the jEneid
by one of our contemporaries) the disconsolate ghosts on the
banks of Styx : —

" Stabant orantes primi transmittere cursum
Tendebantque manus, ripae ulterior is amore."

We find Mr. Cunningham, whose testimony is the more im-
portant, on account of his being a decided advocate for the
system of colonizing with convicts, distinctly admitting that
hitherto, i.e. for about forty years during which this system has
been in operation, it has totally failed of the main object, the
deterring of offenders by the fear of punishment ; but he con-
soles himself with the hope that hereafter a better method
will be pursued, and so that transportation may begin to be
really penal.

" A penal colony, however, to prove fully beneficial to the
mother-country, must be regulated so as efficiently to punish the
crime committed, before the reform of the criminal is thought of;
and in this particular has hitherto consisted the great defect of our
New South Wales system ; for transportation here could scarcely be
called a punishment, and indeed, in half of the cases at least, proved
a reward. The judicious measures, however, commenced by our
present governor, promise a speedy reform in these matters, and
will, I hope, convert the colony from a paradise, into a purgatory,
for criminals."

We do not dispute that improvements may be introduced
into the system ; but the only effectual one, we are convinced,
will be to abandon it altogether. Means doubtless may be used
to make transportation no longer altogether a reward ; but it
does not follow that even then it will operate as a punishment ;
and we must be ever on our guard against concluding at once
(according to the fallacy above noticed) that it does so, on the

TRANSPORTATION. 263

ground of criminals beginning to dread and dislike it; they
must dread and dislike it more, much more, than a life of honest
industry, before it can operate as a check to those whose only
alternative is such a life, or one of dishonesty, and who are
disposed to prefer the latter. We have said that this penal
labour ought to be much more dreaded than honest industry, for
two reasons ; first, on account of the uncertainty of the criminal's
detection : he who had rather steal than submit to ordinary hard
work, will take his chance of being sent to Botany Bay, unless
his punishment there is apprehended to be something far beyond
ordinary hard work : secondly, on account of the hope held out,
(and which is a principal design of the system to hold out,) that
at the expiration of his term, if not sooner, he shall be located
on a farm, and placed in a situation exceeding the brightest
dreams of an English cottager. This hope will need much to
counterbalance it, if transportation is to become a dreaded
punishment. Mr. C. trusts it will become a purgatory ; but he
must remember it is one which, like the Popish purgatory, leads
to a paradise.

Supposing this point however to be fully attained, and to
suppose it, is what Johnson would call tl the triumph of hope
over experience," still it would be a long time after the comple-
tion of this change, before the character of it would be so fully
understood in England as to do away the impression produced
by forty previous years of impunity and reward. And till then
— till the reformation of the discipline in New South Wales
were fully appreciated in England, no good whatever would be
effected by the change : for, as we must once more repeat, it is
not suffering, but the expectation of suffering, that does good.
Generation after generation of criminals would be shipped off
before the truth was completely learned, that the same sentence
which formerly implied nothing terrific, was at length become a
serious penalty. And lastly, the effect must even, after all, be
comparatively trifling, of a punishment undergone at the distance
of a four months' voyage.

That a system, on the face of it so little calculated to secure

264 TRANSPORTATION.

the great end of punishment, the prevention of crime, should
have been so long persevered in, indeed, should have ever been
resorted to, is to be attributed, we conceive, chiefly to the hope
of attaining those other objects which we have already noticed
as of a subordinate character: viz. first, reform, or at least,
removal of the individual culprits ; and, secondly, the benefit to
the colony resulting from their labour. It may, perhaps, be
thought scarcely necessary ever to notice these supposed advan-
tages, because, as we have above remarked, could these be
attained in the utmost perfection, yet if the great object, pre-
vention, were not accomplished, the whole scheme must be
regarded as a failure. We shall, however, venture on a few
remarks relative to these subordinate objects, because, we con-
ceive, that the expediency of the present system, even with a
view to them alone, is greatly overrated.

With respect to the reformation of offenders, that it has
been, in some instances, more or less perfectly attained, there
can be no doubt : but that, in the generality of cases, the dis-
cipline undergone in the colony should be sufficient even to undo
the evil of the passage — to remove but the additional contamina-
tion contracted during the voyage out — is more than either
reasonable conjecture, or experience, would allow us to hope.
For let any one but consider the probable effects of a close
intercourse for four months, of a number of criminals of various
ages, and degrees of guilt, with nothing whatever to do in all
that time but to talk over their exploits of roguery ! They
must be like grass heaped together in a green state, and suffered
to become mow-burnt before it is spread out and turned. That
would deserve to be called a mighty reformation, which should
ever bring them back to their former state, and leave them
merely no worse than they were before the voyage. Of the
sort of life led by the convicts during the passage, Mr. C. gives
nearly such an account as might have been anticipated.

" A man being estimated in this kind of society according to the
amount and adroitness of his villanies, it is no wonder that the yet
' mute inglorious ' Barriugtons of the day should crown themselves

TRANSPORTATION. 265

occasionally with the bays appertaining to other brows, or boast of
robberies committed only in their imagination, in order to elevate
themselves to something like a par with more dignified culprits.
Almost all their conversation is of the larcenous kind, — consisting
of details of their various robberies, and the singular adventures
they have passed through ; but generally one-half of these are
either sheer invention, or dressed up in such a way as to show off
in the most flattering point of view before the eyes of their asso-
ciates.

" The adventures of some of these men are certainly both
extraordinary and amusing ; and the tact with which they will
humbug the very individuals whom they are plundering, might
serve to entertain even the plundered party. It is the rogue's in-
terest, of course, to make the adventure tell well to his own credit,
and therefore considerable deduction must generally be made for the
embellishments wherewith he garnishes his tale. I once listened
unobserved to the relation of an adroit and facetiously-managed
robbery, which the hero was detailing with great glee ; and the
admirable manner in which the whole was wound up, called forth
such a spontaneous burst of laughter and applause from the throng
around, that he rapturously exclaimed, while striking the bench
with his firmly-clenched fist, (his whole countenance beaming de-
lightedly,) ' By G — , I could steal a shirt off a fellow's back without
his knowing it ! '

" It is, in sober sadness, time fruitlessly expended, to attempt
the reformation of these people when crowded thus 'knave upon
knave : ' those who may be seriously inclined are jeered out of it
by the rest, and the reformation you bring about is a mere bam
meant to be turned to gainful account by making a dupe of you.
All you ought to attempt, under such circumstances, is to bring
about regularity and decency of conduct. If you aim at more, you
only make hypocrites, which is ten times worse than permitting
them to remain (as you find them) open downright knaves."

Accordingly, those convicts who return after the expiration
of their sentence, or who escape before, are generally found to
be the most perfect and accomplished villains.

Many, however, remain and settle in the colony ; but the
majority of them appear to turn out just such settlers, as from
their previous habits of life, might be anticipated.

" The thriving and fertile districts of Airds and Apin are

266 TRANSPORTATION.

situated in the county of Cumberland, immediately beyond the Cow-
pasture, looking from Camden. They are chiefly occupied by small
settlers, who have been originally convicts, out of many of whose
hands the grants are slowly passing through the thoughtless, spend-
thrift conduct of the occupants."

Their posterity, however, appear to be considerably im-
proved. Of the cwrreracy-population, (as the natives of the
settlement are called,) Mr. C. seems to think very favourably;
and indeed no class of mortals are more likely to meet with an
indulgent judgment, since even tolerable conduct presents a
striking contrast to that of their progenitors. They are de-
scribed as remarkable for honesty : query, in what degree may
this be attributed to the total absence of all hope of being re-
warded for dishonesty, by being sent to New South Wales?
Honesty, however, in another sense, is represented as far less
common than black swans. The females, it seems, are cleanly
and active, but " do not reckon chastity as the first of virtues."
But though they cannot boast that " the women are all vir-
tuous," "the men are all brave." By Mr. C.'s account they
excel as pugilists ; practising that noble art with great valour
and skill from their childhood, and generally proving victorious
in a boxing-match, "between sterling and currency!" Who
knows but that in addition to her exports of merino-wool, Aus-
tralia may one day furnish a " champion of England."

It is, however, considered by some as a matter of great
self-congratulation, that these persons are so much superior
to what any children of such profligate parents would have
proved if they had remained in England. But this proceeds on
the manifestly false assumption that, in that case, the same
numerous progeny would have arisen; whereas reason and ex-
perience show that (to say nothing of the boasted fecundity of
the worst description of females in New Holland) whenever
settlers are placed in an unoccupied territory, where conse-
quently the supply of subsistence is practically unlimited,
population increases with vast rapidity ; as in the North Ameri-
can States, where the numbers advance as much in five-and-

TRANSPORTATION. 267

twenty years, as in Europe in five centuries. The immediate
progeny of one thousand reprobates of both sexes, reared in
England in one generation, would hardly much exceed, probably
would fall short of, the number of their parents : in a new
colony, they are likely to be four or five times as numerous.
Whether, therefore, these are better than their parents, is not
the question ; but whether they are the best population with
which we could stock the country — whether it be wise to save
for seed the worst plants — whether they are better than
none at all — and whether, if they are, the advantage is worth
purchasing at such a cost as that of holding out a bonus to
criminals, and consequently shaking the very foundations of
social order.

But to return to the consideration of the actual convicts : we
are inclined to think that transportation is looked to not so much
with a sanguine hope of their reform, as with a view to the
getting rid of them. Now supposing we could (which is not
possible) clear the kingdom at. once of all criminals, by ship-
ping them off to New South Wales, and that every sentence of
transportation were for life, (which should clearly be the case if
riddance be our object,) still the country would be no gainer un-
less we got rid of the crimes as well as the individual criminals ;
and this could never be done unless the transportation were a
dreaded punishment. For it is not to be imagined that thieves
are a distinct species, like wolves, so that if we could but exter-
minate them all, (as the Saxon king did our four-footed sheep-
stealers,) the breed would be extinct. "Man" (says the legal
maxim) " is a wolf to man." While human nature remains,
property, as far as it is not protected by fear of punishment, will
ever offer a temptation to depredation. Fresh offenders would
immediately arise ; not indeed corrupted by the example and in-
struction of those sent out of the country, but encouraged by
their impunity ; and thus we might go on till we had peopled
New Holland with rogues, without the least diminishing the
number at home. " Uno avulso non deficit alter.1'' To think of
diminishing crime by simply removing the criminals, without

268 TRANSPORTATION.

holding out an effectual terror to future offenders, is like under-
taking to empty a lake by baling out the water, without stopping
the river which flows into it. Now the existing system exactly
corresponds with the above supposition, except in two points :
first, that as we cannot transport all, or nearly all offenders,
there are always enough left at home to train successive genera-
tions of tiros in villainy ; and, secondly, that as most sentences
of transportation are only for a term of years, we do not effectu-
ally get rid even of those who are sent out. We do indeed get
rid for ever of such of them as are disposed to lead a reformed
life ; they seldom fail to become settlers ; but the most incor-
rigible are sure to return. So that this system of " riddance "
not only fails of its object, but, by a kind of whimsical perver-
sity, fails precisely in the instances in which its success is most
desired.

Some writers express wonder and alarm at the increase of
crime : we wish they were more alarmed, and less astonished ; to
us, the wonder is, that crimes do not increase much faster ; and
we look forward with great alarm to the continuance of the
present system, as one likely to bear its poisonous fruits in con-
tinually greater abundance and perfection as it advances toward
maturity of growth.

Having now arrived at our conclusions, by an analytical ex-
amination of the subject, it is time that we should compare them
with those of the Select Committee, whose Report we have men-
tioned at the head of this Article. In this comparison we regret
to find a most essential difference, between the Report and our
own views. In regard to transportation for fourteen, and for
seven years, the views of the Committee may be said to coincide
with ours ; but the coincidence is more of detail than of principle.
Their objection to the former term of years is that '* for those
who dread the loss of their native country, it gives a hope of
return, which greatly diminishes the value of the punishment.'
With this they couple the consideration that " the returned
transport is generally a very abandoned character, and he usually
returns to his old criminal society, thus forming a link, as it

TRANSPORTATION. 269

were, between the thieves at large, and the thieves under punish-
ment." (p. 14.) In regard to the shorter term of transportation,
" the Committee would be inclined to recommend that the punish-
ment should be abolished;" but as some convicts had lately been
sent to Bermuda, and the result of the experiment was as yet
unknown, they thought proper to suspend their judgment. Of
transportation commuted into labour on board the hulks, the Com-
mittee expressed their disapprobation, at least in its present state,
on account of the lightness of the labour enforced, and the want
of separation between the different sorts of criminals.

But the approbation which the Committee give to transpor-
tation for life, is most positive and unqualified.

" Transportation for life is an excellent punishment in certain
cases. Where a man has made crime his habit and profession, where
he has become the chief, or a member of a band of thieves, and has
no resource on his return from imprisonment but to herd with the
same gang, and pursue the same practices, it is both mercy and jus-
tice to spare his life, and to remove him to a distant colony, where he
may first afford an example of punishment by hard labour, and by
degrees lose his vicious propensities in a new state of society. —
Much has been said of the advantages enjoyed by the convicts in
New South Wales, and the little effect which the punishment in-
spires. Still there are numbers to whom the notion of being ban-
ished for life, with several years of convict labour in addition, is
very formidable, nor would it be wise to abandon such a punish-
ment." (p. 14.)

No power of argument, or even demonstration, can avail
against such decisions. The Committee's conclusion amounts to
this : much has been said against transportation for life, but
still " it is an excellent punishment." Experience seems to
prove that the threat of such a punishment inspires no fear ;
but " still there are numbers to whom it is formidable." To what
class the individuals belong who form these numbers, the Com-
mittee do not stop to enquire. The notion of banishment for
life, and convict labour, is far from being agreeable to them-
selves, and on the strength of this feeling they assert the exist-
ence of numbers to whom this notion is formidable. How the

270 TRANSPORTATION.

Committee are prepared to prove that it has that effect on that
sort of men in relation to whom they ought to have settled the
question — how either from reasoning or experience they can
show that a man who has made crime his habit and profession,
who has become the chief or a member of a band of thieves, which
in ninety- nine out of a hundred cases is the effect of his not be-
ing able to subsist by labour as hard and much more hopeless
than that with which he is threatened — how they are to per-
suade the world that such men are so attached to their native
soil as to dread the exchange of it for one more fertile, mild, and
cheerful — one besides of the same language as their own — one,
in fine, where, as far as country means any thing connected with
the intellectual and moral part of man, an Englishman will find
himself more at home than if he were sent to many parts of
Ireland, or the Hebrides, we are at a loss to guess.

But we cannot take leave of the Committee without ad-
verting to the unsteadiness of their views in regard to any
standard by which to ascertain the usefulness of the punish-
ment which they were considering, and which they so strongly
recommended. The excellence of transportation for life, to
judge by their statement, consists, 1st. In the example of
punishment afforded by the temporary hard labour of the
convict; 2ndly. In the probability that by degrees he will
" lose his vicious propensities in a new state of society." This
is a striking example of unphilosophical investigation. The
question is, whether transportation for life is good as a punish-
ment? Good in respect to what end of punishment? ought
to have been the first question. A glimpse of the true end,
prevention of crime, seems to have crossed the minds of the
Committee, and accordingly they endeavour to make out
transportation useful as an example. On finding this im-
practicable, they seize on an incidental circumstance of trans-
portation, i.e. hard labour, and on this they fasten their
conclusion. But it happens unfortunately for the argument,
that the hard labour, which, as we have observed, is a mere
incident in the case, wants every one of the circumstances

TRANSPORTATION. 271

■which are essential to useful example : it is not seen by those
who should be deterred ; it is an evil with which they are
familiar ; it cannot be much worse than the hard labour to
which they must submit if they abstain from crime ; and being
to their minds at an indefinite distance of time and space, it
loses in the gay hues of hope every harsh feature of punish-
ment. So much for example. The weakness of this argument
being probably felt by the Committee, they turned to the
usual resource in such cases — accumulation of reasons. If
removal for life to Botany Bay (they seem to say) should not
be found to act powerfully as an example, it is, at all events,
conducive to the reform of the convict. But what is the
ground of their hopes on this score ? The influence of a new
state of society. Now if a new state of society can have any
chance in correcting vicious habits, its novelty must consist in
the removal of every thing that cherished the evil propensities,
and smothered the good ones, of the individual to be reformed.
One half, and perhaps more, of our worst characters would be
reformed, could they be placed among a set of virtuous and
industrious people, who, from their ignorance of the previous
misconduct of the strangers, should be ready to treat them
with kindness, and able to give them a share in their industry
and profits. But what is the new state of society to which the
convicts are removed ? What is there new to them in their
place of exile, but what, if transportation is not to be a reward
instead of punishment, must necessarily increase their vicious-
ness? Are they not introduced into a society in which de-
pravity is the general rule, and honesty the exception ? Are
they not to be reduced to a kind of slavery, the greatest
corrupter of the human heart? Are they not to be branded
with a mark of infamy which even a thorough reformation,
supported by all the influence of the first authority of the
country, can never remove ? Let any one who doubts it, read
the parliamentary report on the state of New South Wales,
and he will find that the main source of all the disturbances
occasioned by the government of General Macquarie, was his

272 TRANSPORTATION.

leniency towards reformed convicts — his (as we think) benevo-
lent yet mistaken view of the penal end of transportation. It
is curious indeed to observe how two men, in bitter opposition
to each other, agree, though unawares, in furnishing proofs of
our position, that if convicts are treated in New South Wales,
as they must be if transportation is to be a punishment to them,
it is morally impossible that they should be reformed.
Commissioner Bigge observes very justly, that

" A propensity to violence of language and abuse, insensibly
becomes a habit in those to whom the irksome task is committed
of enforcing compulsory labour, or wholesome restraint against
refractory and vicious men ; such conduct indeed certainly has no
tendency to the improvement of a depraved character, and as
certainly debases and hardens the heart of others." — (p. 30.)

It is most true, and it has long been known both from
theory and experience, that slavery corrupts both the slave and
the master. Now take the picture drawn by General Macquarie.

" I have no doubt that many convicts who might have been ren-
dered useful and good men, had they been treated with humane and
reasonable control, have sunk into despondence by the unfeeling
treatment of such masters ; and that many of those wretched men,
driven to acts of violence by hard usage, and who by a contrary
treatment might have been reformed, have betaken themselves to
the woods, where they can only subsist by plunder, and have
terminated their lives on the gallows ; but with every indulgence
that can reasonably be extended to convicts, transportation is far
from being a light sentence ; it is at best a state of slavery ; and
the fate of the convict, as to misery or comparative comfort,
depending on the will of his master, the constant sense of degrada-
tion and loss of liberty is a severe punishment, which has no
remission while he is in a state of bondage." — (lb. p. 31.)

The natural, inevitable inference from these statements is,
that the improvement of such convicts as are generally trans-
ported, is incompatible with an adequate punishment of their
crimes : so that the additional reason adduced by the Committeo
to prop up their lame defence of transportation as punishment,
namely the probability of reform, excludes, and is mutually

TRANSPORTATION. 273

excluded by that argument which it was meant to support. It
is like the advice of a physician who prescribed ice to his
patient, and then, fearing that might be too cold a remedy, sug-
gested, as an improvement, that it should be warmed.

But what is to become of the colony, on which we have
already expended so much, if we cease thus to supply it with
labourers at the public expense? It would be a pity to check
its rising prosperity, to which convict labour so much contributes.

" Nothing, in fact," (says Mr. Cunningham.) " ever created
greater dismay among us, than the announcement, some two years
ago, of a project for the future disposal of convict labour in the fur-
therance of government works at home, and in other colonies in pre-
ference to this ; while our colonial wags still occasionally delight
to work upon our fears, by propagating alarming reports of the
increasing morality of the people of Great Britain, or of the
lightness of the last jail-deliveries there — reports which the
visitor to England will soon find quite destitute of foundation."
(Vol. i. p. 12.)

Aristotle long since remarked this principle — the high value
set on any thing that has cost much ; which is recognised in the
proverbial expression of " throwing good money after bad."
And so powerful is this principle, that if we were not prepared
to point out a mode of much more effectually benefiting the
colony by a different procedure, we should almost despair of
obtaining a fair hearing for the reasons against the present
system. And yet the object of affording aid to the settlers is
clearly and confessedly subordinate to the main one — the pre-
vention of crime. Indeed, the colony was first settled with a
view to that very object ; so that it would evidently be an absurd
inconsistency, when that object is found not to be promoted, to
continue sacrificing the end to the means; first to found a
colony for the sake of transporting convicts, and then (folloiving
our own footsteps) to transport convicts for the sake of the
colony. We remember an old country squire, who kept a number
of horses, and, of course, a great many servants to look after
them. For the last forty years of his life he never rode ; but

W. E. T

274 TRANSPORTATION.

he still kept the horses, to find employment for his servants in
exercising and grooming them !

To adhere to a system which cherishes, or at least does not
keep down, violations of the laws here, in order that we may be
enabled to keep up a supply of useful labourers for New South
Wales, is the same sort of economy which Swift recommends in
his "directions to the groom," for the benefit of his master's
service, viz. to " fill the horses' rack with hay to the top,
though perhaps they may not have the stomach to eat ; if the
hay be thrown doivn, there is no loss, for it will make litter, and
save straw.'1''

In the present instance, however, the spoiled hay does not
appear even to make good litter. The Emancipists, as they are
called — those who have come out as convicts, are described, in
an extract already given, as for the most part idle, unthrifty
settlers ; and the currency, those born in the colony, are repre-
sented as generally preferring a seafaring life, having the odious
associations of crime and slavery connected with agricultural
pursuits ; a feeling perfectly natural under such circumstances,
but the very last one we would wish to find in a colony. This
particular disadvantage was not especially pointed out, among
the rest, by Bacon ; but the system has, on other accounts,
his decided disapprobation. " It is," says he, " a shameful and
unblessed thing to take the scum of people and wicked con-
demned men to be the people with whom you plant." One of
the results, not, we apprehend, originally contemplated, is that
these " wicked condemned men," have planted for themselves
several volunteer-colonies ; escaping in small craft, either to the
South Sea Islands, (in many of which, for a good while past,
each native chief has for a prime minister some choice graduate
of the university of Newgate,) or, more frequently, to some
part of the coast of New Holland, or some of the small islands
at a little distance from the main, particularly one called Kan-
garoo Island ; where they settle, and subsist chiefly on wild
animals ; especially seals, whose skins and oil form a profit-
able article of traffic with the small traders from the mother-

TKANSPORTATION. 275

colony. Several more of these lawless settlements are supposed
to exist besides those generally known; as it is clearly the
interest of the above-mentioned traders, when they discover
such a one, to keep the knowledge to themselves, for the sake
of monopolizing the commerce. A most profitable trade they
of course find it ; as their customers are not only willing to
pay an enormous price in oil for the luxuries of rum and
tobacco, but when once intoxicated, are easily stripped of all.
Another article, it seems, has been found more profitable in this
trade than even rum; viz. women; who, if kidnapped at
Botany Bay, and carried off to one of these settlements, will
sell for a whole ocean of seal oil ! This infernal traffic was
betrayed by the wreck of a vessel, from which, in consequence,
two women, who had been thus carried off from Sydney, made
their escape, and it is to be hoped put others on their guard
against the detestable fate designed for them. These volunteer
settlers, however, it seems, resort to another expedient to supply
themselves with wives: viz. seizing on the native black women,
after, we presume, knocking on the head the males of the
tribe.

" At Kangaroo Island, on our southern coast, about four hundred
miles to the west of Bass Straits, a settlement of this kind has long
existed, as I have before mentioned ; (by the latest accoxints, this
settlement contains a population of forty individuals, — men, women,
and children ;) the men having reached that point by coasting along
in boats, and having seized and carried off native women. During
the seal season they live upon the coast, feasting upon the seal-flesh
which their loives procure for them ; and on the season being over,
retire to their village, built in a valley in the interior, and subsist
upon the produce of their gardens and what game they can destroy.
They lead a most slothful, idle life, obliging their women to perform
all the drudgery, but occasionally assisting vessels calling there to
load with salt, which is found covering the bed of a lagoon six
inches deep; and bartering their seal-skins for rum, tea, sugar,
and so forth, with the crews. The senior individual upon the
settlement is named Abyssinia, and has lived there fourteen years
and upwards. A7arious islands in Bass Straits are also peopled in
like manner; Flinder's Island, according to the latest accounts,

t3

276 TRANSPORTATION.

containing twenty, including women and children." ( Two Tears in
New South Wales, vol. ii. p. 203.)

So that we may hope in time to have the coast of New
South Wales, surrounded by a fringe, as it were, of colonies of
half-castes, consisting of a mixture of the blood of the most
debased of savages, with that of the more refined and intelligent
scoundrels of civilized society ; and exhibiting, we may antici-
pate, a curious specimen of the worst possible form of human
nature. And thus it is that we are proceeding to people Aus-
tralia. The land is certainly planted, but it is planted with the
worst of weeds, according to the ingenious experiment suggested
in the Tempest for Prospero's Island —

" Gonzalo. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord

Antonio. He'd sow it with nettle seed."

" But all these," we have heard it replied, " are merely
incidental evils; they are no part of the design." If this
means merely that no system should be at once con-
demned solely because some incidental evils are connected with
it, as some must be with every system, in this we heartily
concur. Navigation is a good thing, although ships are occa-
sionally wrecked, and men drowned. But if it be meant that
incidental evils are, on that ground, to be totally disregarded,
and left out of calculation, the best mode we can think of for
disabusing one who holds such an opinion, is, that he should
take up his abode next door to a soap-boiler, with a brazier on
the other side of his house, a slaughter-house over the way, and
a store of gunpowder in the vaults beneath him ; being ad-
monished at the same time to remember that if his eyes, nose,
and ears are incessantly annoyed, and he is ultimately blown
up, these are only incidental evils.

But we must hasten to redeem our pledge of pointing out
(which our limits warn us must be done in a very few and brief
hints) a mode of even improving the situation of the colony
without this every-way-objectionable supply of convicts. The
persons we would have sent out (we would not have it called

TRANSPORTATION. 277

transportation) are able-bodied paupers ; those who are capable
and desirous of labour, but cannot get employment, or not
sufficient to maintain a family without parish aid. These are
precisely the description of persons to whom a colony, with a
practically-boundless extent of territory, is best suited ; because
there, a moderate degree of industry will furnish a more
abundant subsistence, and a better security against future want,
than the most severe and unremitting toil in a full-peopled
state'; and because a large family is there an aid instead of a
burden, and a source, not of gloomy anxiety, but of cheering
anticipations. Many a man so circumstanced, and provided for
in the way here suggested, would probably be one, who, under
the present system, would ultimately have found his way, in
another character, to Botany Bay ; but not till after having
yielded to the temptations arising from distress, he had been led
on, step by step, to the commission of crimes which would have
gone far to disqualify him for becoming a useful settler. Had
the system recommended been pursued from the beginning,
many of the same colonists would have now been there who are
there now ; with the difference of an unstained character and
undepraved disposition ; with those evils, in short, prevented,
which we are now, too often in vain, labouring to cure. And
no one who was reduced to apply to the Public for relief,
could complain of its being bestowed in the mode most con-
venient to the public. The community would say to these
persons, " we do not force, or even ask you to leave your
country ; stay and welcome, if you can maintain yourself by
your labour at home ; but if you cannot, it is both allowable
and kind to send you to a place where you can." And as there
would be no compulsion to go, so there would be no prohibition
of return ; if, as would probably sometimes happen, a man
should, in the course of years, have realized enough to place
him above want in his own country, and he had a desire to end
his days in- it. Only, every such emigrant should be made, in
the eye of the law, a native of that country (whether New
Holland, Canada, or the Cape — for we would not confine the

278 TRANSPORTATION.

system to any one colony) to which he had been conveyed at the
public expense. He should, if he chose to return, have no claim
to parochial relief.

One objection has been suggested to us, which, though at first
sight formidable, will admit, in theory at least, of a ready
answer : it is, that such a measure as we are recommending
should be preceded by a repeal of the corn-laws ; on the ground
that it is unreasonable to send a man to earn his bread in a
foreign land, who could earn it at home, if you would let him
■ buy it as cheaply as others would be willing to supply it. This
is not the place for discussing the question of the corn-laws ;
but it is sufficient for the present purpose that it should be
admitted, which is surely undeniable, that they either are, or
are not necessary for the public welfare ; that if they are not,
then, however profitable they may be to any individuals, they
ought at any rate to be altered ; and that if they are a public
benefit, no one has a right to complain of being obliged to sub-
mit to the consequences of them.

But what shall we do with the convicts ? This is a question
truly important, but of which the full discussion does not seem
necessary, if the foregoing conclusions be admitted as established.
If what we now hold out as a punishment be proved to be in
some cases a very inadequate .punishment, in more, a reward,
that is surely a sufficient reason for beginning to turn our
thoughts towards the adoption of some system of punishment,
and of effectual punishment ; though we may not be able at
once to point out which is the most effectual.

The traveller, whose case we adverted to in the opening of
this article, when he discovered that he was riding in a circle,
was not probably able to decide at once which was his best road ;
but he did not, we imagine, for that reason continue contentedly
to follow his own track, round and round ; it was plain he was
going wrong, whichever way might be right.

But, in fact, it cannot be said that we should be even for
a moment utterly at a loss how to dispose of criminals, should
actual transportation be discontinued ; since, as it is, a majority

TRANSPORTATION. 279

of those sentenced to it do not actually undergo it. And of all
the substitutes that have been resorted to, unequal as their re-
commendations may be, we will venture to say the very worst is
is far less objectionable, in many respects, than actual trans-
portation.

With respect to every sentence of confinemeut to hard labour,
whether at the tread-wheel, or of any other kind, we would
venture to suggest what we cannot but consider as a most
important improvement, viz. that instead of a certain period
of time, a convict should be sentenced to go through a certain
quantity of work. We mean that a computation should be
made of the average number of miles for instance which a man
sentenced to the tread-wheel would be expected to walk in
a week ; and that then, a sentence of so many iveeks1 labour
should be interpreted to mean, so many miles ; the convict to be
released when, and not before, he had " dreed his weird ;" whether
he chose to protract or to shorten the time of his penance. In
the same manner he might be sentenced to beat so many
hundred weight of hemp ; dig a ditch of such and such di-
mensions, &c. ; always exacting some labour of all prisoners,
and fixing a minimum sufficiently high to keep up the notion
of hard labour, but leaving them at liberty as to the amount of
it above the fixed daily task. The great advantage resulting
would be, that criminals, whose habits probably had previously
been idle, would thus be habituated not only to labour, but to
form some agreeable association with the idea of labour. Every
step a man took in the tread -wheel, he would be walking out of
prison ; every stroke of the spade would be cutting a passage for
restoration to society.

Among other kinds of penal labour, we would hint at one not
much different from the best kind of employment of the trans-
ported convicts, viz. the draining, paring, and burning, and
otherwise fitting for cultivation, of the Irish peat-bogs ; not with
a view, however, to their being afterwards settled by the con-
victs ; as it would be easy to people the territory thus reclaimed
with far better colonists, and with such as would ultimately

280 TRANSPORTATION.

prove of eminent service to that country1. We are aware that
in most instances the land thus reclaimed would not be worth
the cost of the labour bestowed on it, were that labour to be
hired ; but that is not the question : if worth any tiling, that
worth would be all clear gain. The convicts must be maintained
at the public expense, even though kept in idleness. Though
their work, therefore, should amount to less than their main-
tenance, it is yet desirable that it should diminish that public
expense, which it is insufficient to cover. The first object is -penal
labour ; the next point is, that that labour should be at least of
some use. And if the expense of a four months' voyage to New
South Wales be taken into the calculation, it will probably be
found that every acre cleared by convict-labour there, costs the
public many times more than an acre reclaimed from an Irish
peat-bog, which is thenceforward of many times greater value to
the country. And it is to be observed, that all the principal
bogs in Ireland (amounting, it is supposed, to between one and
two millions of acres) are capable of being not only drained,
but brought into a state of great productiveness. Peat contains
abundance of vegetable matter, the main material of fertility,
but is barren through its constant wetness, its spongy texture,
want of decomposition, absence of a sufficient mixture of earthy
matter, and the occasional presence of sulphate of iron. This
last, which is poisonous to vegetation, is decomposed, and ren-
dered salutary by the addition of lime, which also is a powerful
decomposer of vegetable fire ; gravel, sand, or clay, in fact
any earthy substance, forms a most effectual and permanent
manure for peaty land; at once decomposing its parts, and
giving firmness to the soil. And in most cases such a manure
is at hand ; most peat-bogs resting on a clayey substratum. We
are ourselves acquainted with a peat-bog in Yorkshire, which,
after draining, was converted into good corn-land, at the ex-
pense of seven pounds per acre, by overspreading the surface
with clay, which was found at the depth of six feet.

• On this subject, see some remarks (with most of which we fully coincide,
though not with all) in a Letter to Mr. Malthu3, in No. 17 of the Pamphleteer.

TRANSPORTATION.

281

But whether this, or any other scheme of penal labour be
thought worth trying, or whether in any, or in all instances,
corporal chastisement should be considered preferable, there
are two important conclusions which we think both reason and
experience will fully warrant, and which we hope to see prac-
tically admitted : 1st, That the particular kind of punishment
allotted to each offence should be as far as possible fixed, and
known with certainty beforehand, in order that the execution of
the sentence may at least furnish an experiment, and may serve
to guide our judgment as to its efficacy : — 2ndly, That we should
not be too anxious to accomplish several objects at once ; but
keep steadily in view the main purpose of penal legislation, lest
we sacrifice that, in the pursuit of subordinate objects, and lose
sight of the prevention of crime, in the midst of our schemes for
reclaiming hardened villains and Australian forests1.

1 This article was reprinted nearly
thirty years ago in a letter to Earl Grey ;
and some years after, I published the
substance of a speech on the same sub-
ject. To some persons it may seem

strange that a system should have been
so long adhered to, which was, as Mr.
Senior has justly observed, " begun in
defiance of all reason, and maintained
in defiance of all experience."

III.

MODERN NOVELS.

Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion. By the Author of " Sense
and Sensibility," " Pride and Prejudice," " Mansfield Park,"
and " Emma." 4 vols. New Edition.

The times seem to be past when an apology was requisite
from reviewers for condescending to notice a novel ; when they
felt themselves bound in dignity to deprecate the suspicion of
paying much regard to such trifles, and pleaded the necessity of
occasionally stooping to humour the taste of their fair readers.
The delights of fiction, if not more keenly or more generally
relished, are at least more readily acknowledged by men of
sense and taste ; and we have lived to hear the merits of the
best of this class of writings earnestly discussed by some of the
ablest scholars and soundest reasoners of the present day.

We are inclined to attribute this change, not so much to an
alteration in the public taste, as in the character of the pro-
ductions in question. Novels may not, perhaps, display more
genius now than formerly, but they contain more solid sense ;
they may not afford higher gratification, but it is of a nature
which men are less disposed to be ashamed of avowing. We
remarked, in a former Number1, in reviewing a work of the
author now before us, that " a new style of novel has arisen,
within the last fifteen or twenty years, differing from the former
in the points upon which the interest hinges ; neither alarming
our credulity nor amusing our imagination by wild variety of
incident, or by those pictures of romantic affection and sensi-
bility, which were formerly as certain attributes of fictitious
characters as they are of rare occurrence among those who
actually live and die. The substitute for these excitements,

1 The Article was by Sir Walter Scott.

MODERN NOVELS. 283

which had lost much of their poignancy by the repeated and
injudicious use of them, was the art of copying from nature
as she really exists in the common walks of life, and pre-
senting to the reader, instead of the splendid scenes of an
imaginary world, a correct and striking representation of what
is daily taking place around him."

Now, though the origin of this new school of fiction may
probably be traced, as we there suggested, to the exhaustion of
the mines from which materials for entertainment had been
hitherto extracted, and the necessity of gratifying the natural
craving of the reader for variety, by striking into an untrodden
path ; the consequences resulting from this change have been
far greater than the mere supply of this demand. When this
Flemish painting, as it were, is introduced — this accurate and
unexaggerated delineation of events and characters — it neces-
sarily follows, that a novel, which makes good its pretensions of
giving a perfectly correct picture of common life, becomes a far
more instructive work than one of equal or superior merit of the
other class ; it guides the judgment, and supplies a kind of arti-
ficial experience. It is a remark of the great father of criticism,
that Poetry {i.e. narrative, and dramatic poetry) is of a more
philosophical character than History ; inasmuch as the latter
details what has actually happened, of which many parts may
chance to be exceptions to the general rules of probability,
and consequently illustrate no general principles ; whereas the
former shows us what must naturally, or would probably,
happen under given circumstances ; and thus displays to us a
comprehensive view of human nature, and furnishes general
rules of practical wisdom. It is evident, that this will apply
only to such fictions as are quite perfect in respect of the pro-
bability of their story; and that he, therefore, who resorts
to the fabulist rather than the historian, for instruction in
human character and conduct, must throw himself entirely on
the judgment and skill of his teacher, and give him credit for
talents much more rare than the accuracy and veracity which
are the chief requisites in history. We fear, therefore, that

284 MODERN NOVELS.

the exultation -which we can conceive some of our gentle readers
to feel, at having Aristotle's warrant for (what probably they
had never dreamed of) the philosophical character of their
studies, must, in practice, be somewhat qualified, by those
sundry little violations of probability which are to be met with
in most novels ; and which so far lower their value, as models
of real life, that a person who had no other preparation for
the world than is afforded by them, would form, probably, a
less accurate idea of things as they are, than he would of
a lion from studying merely the representations on China tea-
pots.

Accordingly, a heavy complaint has long lain against works
of fiction, as giving a false picture of what they profess to
imitate, and disqualifying their readers for the ordinary scenes
and every-day duties of life. And this charge applies, we
apprehend, to the generality of what are strictly called novels,
with even more justice than to romances. When all the charac-
ters and events are very far removed from what we see around
us, — when, perhaps, even supernatural agents are introduced,
the reader may indulge, indeed, in occasional day-dreams, but
will be so little reminded of what he has been reading, by any
thing that occurs in actual life, that though he may perhaps feel
some disrelish for the tameness of the scene before him, com-
pared with the fairy-land he has been visiting, yet at least his
judgment will not be depraved, nor his expectations misled; he
will not apprehend a meeting with Algerine banditti on English
shores, nor regard the old woman who shows him about an
antique country seat, as either an enchantress or the keeper of
an imprisoned damsel. But it is otherwise with those fictions
which differ from common life in little or nothing but the
improbability of the occurrences : the reader is insensibly led to
calculate upon some of those lucky incidents and opportune
coincidences of which he has been so much accustomed to read,
and which, it is undeniable, may take place in real life ; and to
feel a sort of confidence, that however romantic his conduct
may be, and in whatever difficulties it may involve him, all will

MODERN NOVELS. 285

be sure to come right at last, as is invariably the case with the
hero of a novel.

On the other hand, so far as these pernicious effects fail to
be produced, so far does the example lose its influence, and the
exercise of poetical justice is rendered vain. The reward of
virtuous conduct being brought about by fortunate accidents,
he who abstains (taught, perhaps, by bitter disappointments)
from reckoning on such accidents, wants that encouragement to
virtue, which alone has been held out to him. " If I were a
man in a novel," we remember to have heard an ingenious friend
observe, "I should certainly act so and so, because I should be
sure of being no loser by the most heroic self-devotion, and of
ultimately succeeding in the most daring enterprises."

It may be said, in answer, that these objections apply only
to the unskilful novelist, who, from ignorance of the world, gives
an unnatural representation of what he professes to delineate.
This is partly true, and partly not ; for there is a distinction to
be made between the unnatural and the merely improbable : a
fiction is unnatural when there is some assignable reason against
the events taking place as described, — when men are represented
as acting contrary to the character assigned them, or to human
nature in general ; as when a young lady of seventeen, brought
up in ease, luxury, and retirement, with no companions but the
narrow-minded and illiterate, displays (as a heroine usually
does) under the most trying circumstances, such wisdom, forti-
tude, and knowledge of the world, as the best instructors and
the best examples can rarely produce without the aid of more
mature age and longer experience. — On the other hand, a fiction
is still improbable, though not unnatural, when there is no reason
to be assigned why things should not take place as represented,
except that the overbalance of chances is against it ; the hero
meets, in his utmost distress, most opportunely, with the very
person to whom he had formerly done a signal service, and who
happens to communicate to him a piece of intelligence which
sets all to rights. Why should he not meet him as well as any
one else ? all that can be said is, that there is no reason why he

286 MODERN NOVELS.

should. The infant who is saved from a wreck, and who after-
wards becomes such a constellation of virtues and accomplish-
ments, turns out to be no other than the nephew of the very
gentleman, on whose estate the waves had cast him, and whose
lovely daughter he had so long sighed for in vain : there is no
reason to be given, except from the calculation of chances, why
he should not have been thrown on one part of the coast as well
as another. Nay, it would be nothing unnatural, though the
most determined novel-reader would be shocked at its improba-
bility, if all the hero's enemies, while they were conspiring his
ruin, were to be struck dead together by a lucky flash of light-
ning : yet many denouements which are decidedly unnatural,
are better tolerated than this would be.

We shall, perhaps, best explain our meaning by examples,
taken from a novel of great merit in many respects. When
Lord Glenthorn, in whom a most unfavourable education has
acted on a most unfavourable disposition, after a life of torpor,
broken only by short sallies of forced exertion, on a sudden re-
verse of fortune, displays at once the most persevering diligence
in the most repulsive studies, and in middle life, without any
previous habits of exertion, any hope of early business, or the
example of friends, or the stimulus of actual want, to urge
him, outstrips every competitor, though every competitor has
every advantage against him ; this is unnatural. — When Lord
Glenthorn, the instant he is stripped of his estates, meets, falls
in love with, and is conditionally accepted by the very lady
who is remotely in titled to those estates ; when, the instant
he has fulfilled the conditions of their marriage, the family of
the person possessed of the estates becomes extinct, and by the
concurrence of circumstances, against every one of which the
chances were enormous, the hero is re-instated in all his old
domains ; this is merely improbable.

The distinction which we have been pointing out may be
plainly perceived in the events of real life ; when any thing takes
place of such a nature as we should call, in a fiction, merely im-
probable, because there are many chances against it, we call it
a lucky or unlucky accident, a singular coincidence, something

MODEKN NOVELS. 287

very extraordinary, odd, curious, &c. ; whereas any thing which,
in a fiction, would be called unnatural, when it actually occurs,
(and such things do occur,) is still called unnatural, inexpli-
cable, unaccountable, inconceivable, &c, epithets which are not
applied to events that have merely the balance of chances
against them.

Now, though an author who understands human nature is
not likely to introduce into his fictions any thing that is un-
natural, he will often have much that is improbable : he may
place his personages, by the intervention of accident, in striking
situations, and lead them through a course of extraordinary
adventures ; and yet, in the midst of all this, he will keep up
the most perfect consistency of character, and make them act as
it would be natural for men to act in such situations and circum-
stances. Fielding's novels are a good illustration of this : they
display great knowledge of mankind ; the characters are well
preserved ; the persons introduced all act as one would naturally
expect they should, in the circumstances in which they are
placed; but these circumstances are such as it is incalculably
improbable should ever exist : several of the events, taken
singly, are much against the chances of probability ; but the
combination of the whole in a connected series, is next to im-
possible.

Even the romances which admit a mixture of supernatural
agency, are not more unfit to prepare men for real life, than
such novels as these; since one might just as reasonably
calculate on the intervention of a fairy, as on the train of lucky
chances which combine first to involve Tom Jones in his difficul-
ties, and afterwards to extricate him. Perhaps, indeed, the
supernatural fable is of the two not only (as we before remarked)
the less mischievous in its moral effects, but also the more
correct kind of composition in point of taste : the author lays
down a kind of hypothesis of the existence of ghosts, witches, or
fairies, and professes to describe what would take place under
that hypothesis ; the novelist, on the contrary, makes no de-
mand of extraordinary machinery, but professes to describe
what may actually take place, according to the existing laws of

288 MODERN NOVELS.

human affairs : if he therefore present us with a series of events
quite unlike any which ever do take place, we have reason to
complain that he has not made good his professions.

When, therefore, the generality, even of the most approved
novels, were of this character, (to say nothing of the heavier
charges brought, of inflaming the passions of young persons by
warm descriptions, weakening their abhorrence of profligacy by
exhibiting it in combination with the most engaging qualities,
and presenting vice in all its allurements, while setting forth the
triumphs of" virtue rewarded") it is not to be wondered that
the grave guardians of youth should have generally stigmatized
the whole class, as " serving only to fill young people's heads
with romantic love-stories, and rendering them unfit to mind
any thing else." That this censure and caution should in many
instances be indiscriminate, can surprise no one, who recollects
how rare a quality discrimination is; and how much better it
suits indolence, as well as ignorance, to lay down a rule, than to
ascertain the exceptions to it. We are acquainted with a careful
mother, whose daughters, while they never in their lives read a
novel of any kind, are permitted to peruse, without reserve, any
plays that happen to fall in their way ; and with another, from
whom no lessons, however excellent, of wisdom and piety, con-
tained in a prd*se-fictkm, can obtain quarter ; but who, on the
other hand, is no less indiscriminately indulgent to her children
in the article of tales in verse, of whatever character.

The change, however, which we have already noticed, as
having taken place in the character of several modern novels,
has operated in a considerable degree to do away this pre-
judice ; and has elevated this species of composition, in some
respects at least, into a much higher class. For most of that
instruction which used to be presented to the world in the
shape of formal dissertations, or shorter and more desultory
moral essays, such as those of the Spectator and Rambler,
we may now resort to the pages of the acute and judicious, but
not less amusing, novelists who have lately appeared. If their
views of men and manners are no less just than those of the

MODERN NOVELS. 289

essayists who preceded them, are they to be rated lower because
they present to us these views, not in the language of general
description, but in the form of well-constructed fictitious
narrative? If the practical lessons they inculcate are no
less sound and useful, it is surely no diminution of their merit
that they are conveyed by example instead of precept : nor, if
their remarks are neither less wise nor less important, are they
the less valuable for being represented as thrown out in the
course of conversations suggested by the circumstances of the
speakers, and perfectly in character. The praise and blame
of the moralist are surely not the less effectual for being
bestowed, not in general declamation, on classes of men, but
on individuals representing those classes, who are so clearly
delineated and brought into action before us, that we seem to
be acquainted with them, and feel an interest in their fate.

Biography is allowed, on all hands, to be one of the most
attractive and profitable kinds of reading : now such novels as
we have been speaking of, being a kind of fictitious biography,
bear the same relation to the real, that epic and tragic Poetry,
according to Aristotle, bear to History : they present us (sup-
posing, of course, each perfect in its kind) with the general, in-
stead of the particular, — the probable, instead of the true ; and,
by leaving out those accidental irregularities, and exceptions to
general rules, which constitute the many improbabilities of real
narrative, present us with a clear and abstracted view of the
general rules themselves ; and thus concentrate, as it were, into
a small compass, the net result of wide experience.

Among the authors of this school there is no one superior,
if equal, to the lady whose last production is now before us,
and whom we have much regret in finally taking leave of: her
death (in the prime of life, considered as a writer) being
announced in this the first publication to which her name is
prefixed. We regret the failure not only of a source of innocent
amusement, but also of that supply of practical good sense and
instructive example, which she would probably have continued
W. E. TJ

290 MODERN NOVELS.

to furnish better than any of her contemporaries : — Miss Edge-
worth, indeed, draws characters and details conversations, such
as they occur in real life, with a spirit and fidelity not to be
surpassed; but her stories are most romantically improbable,
(in the sense above explained,) almost all the important events
of them being brought about by most providential coincidences ;
and this, as we have already remarked, is not merely faulty,
inasmuch as it evinces a want of skill in the writer, and gives
an air of clumsiness to the fiction, but is a very considerable
drawback on its practical utility : the personages either of
fiction or history being then only profitable examples, when
their good or ill conduct meets its appropriate reward, not from
a sort of independent machinery of accidents, but as a necessary
or probable result, according to the ordinary course of affairs.
Miss Edgeworth also is somewhat too avowedly didactic. That
seems to be true of her, which the French critics, in the
extravagance of their conceits, attributed to Homer and Virgil ;
viz., that they first thought of a moral, and then framed a
fable to illustrate it. She would, we think, instruct more suc-
cessfully, and she would, we are sure, please more frequently,
if she kept the design of teaching more out of sight, and did
not so glaringly press every circumstance of her story, prin-
cipal or subordinate, into the service of a principle to be incul-
cated, or information to be given. A certain portion of moral
instruction must accompany every well- invented narrative.
Virtue must be represented as producing, at the long run,
happiness ; and vice, misery ; and the accidental events, that
in real life interrupt this tendency, are anomalies which, though
true individually, are as false generally as the accidental de-
formities which vary the average outline of the human figure.
They would be as much out of place in a fictitious narrative,
as a wen in an academic model. But any direct attempt at
moral teaching, and any attempt whatever to give scientific
information will, we fear, unless managed with the utmost dis-
cretion, interfere with what, after all, is the immediate and

MODERN NOVELS. 291

peculiar object of the novelist, as of the poet, to please. If
instruction do not join as a volunteer, she will do no good
service. Miss Edgeworth's novels put us in mind of those
clocks and watches which are condemned " a double or a treble
debt to pay :" which, besides their legitimate object to show
the hour, tell you the day of the month or the week, give you
a landscape for a dial-plate, with the second hand forming the
sails of a windmill, or have a barrel to play a tune, or an
alarum to remind you of an engagement : all very good things
in their way ; but so it is that these watches never tell the time
so well as those in which that is the exclusive object of the
maker. Every additional movement is an obstacle to the
original design. We do not deny that we have learned much
physic, and much law, from Patronage, particularly the lat-
ter, for Miss Edgeworth's law is of a very original kind ;
but it was not to learn law and physic that we took up the
book, and we suspect we should have been more pleased if we
had been less taught. With regard to the influence of religion,
which is scarcely, if at all, alluded to in Miss Edgeworth's
novels, we would abstain from pronouncing any decision which
should apply to her personally. She may, for aught we know,
entertain opinions which would not permit her, with consistency,
to attribute more to it than she has done ; in that case she
stands acquitted, in foro conscientice, of wilfully suppressing
any thing which she acknowledges to be true and important ;
but, as a writer, it must still be considered as a blemish, in the
eyes at least of those who think differently, that virtue should
be studiously inculcated with scarcely any reference to what
they regard as the main spring of it; that vice should be
traced to every other source except the want of religious prin-
ciple ; that the most radical change from worthlessness to ex-
cellence should be represented as wholly independent of that
agent which they consider as the only one that can accomplish
it ; and that consolation under affliction should be represented
as derived from every source except the one which they look

u 8

292 MODERN NOVELS.

to as the only true and sure one : " is it not because there is no
God in Israel that ye have sent to inquire of Baalzebub the God
of Ekron?"

Miss Austin has the merit (in our judgment most essen-
tial) of being evidently a christian writer: a merit which is
much enhanced, both on the score of good taste, and of practical
utility, by her religion being not at all obtrusive. She might
defy the most fastidious critic to call any of her novels, (as
Coelebs was designated, we will not say altogether without rea-
son,) a " dramatic sermon." The subject is rather alluded- to,
and that incidentally, than studiously brought forward and
dwelt upon. In fact she is more sparing of it than would be
thought desirable by some persons; perhaps even by herself, had
she consulted merely her own sentiments ; but she probably in-
troduced it as far as she thought would be generally acceptable and
profitable : for when the purpose of inculcating a religious prin-
ciple is made too palpably prominent, many readers, if they do
not throw aside the book with disgust, are apt to fortify them-
selves with that respectful kind of apathy with which they un-
dergo a regular sermon, and prepare themselves as they do to
swallow a dose of medicine, endeavouring to get it down in large
gulps, without tasting it more than is necessary.

The moral lessons also of this lady's novels, though clearly
and impressively conveyed, are not offensively put forward, but
spring incidentally from the circumstances of the story ; they
are not forced upon the reader, but he is left to collect them
(though without difficulty) for himself: her's is that unpretend-
ing kind of instruction which is furnished by real life ; and cer-
tainly no author has ever conformed more closely to real life, as
well in the incidents, as in the characters and descriptions. Her
fables appear to us to be, in their own way, nearly faultless ;
they do not consist (like those of some of the writers who have
attempted this kind of common-life novel writing) of a string of
unconnected events which have little or no bearing on one main
plot, and are introduced evidently for the sole purpose of bring-
ing in characters and conversations ; but have all that compact-

MODERN NOVELS. 293

ness of plan and unity of action which is generally produced by
a sacrifice of probability : yet they have little or nothing that
is not probable ; the story proceeds without the aid of extraor-
dinary accidents : the events which take place are the necessary
or natural consequences of what has preceded ; and yet (which
is a very rare merit indeed) the final catastrophe is scarcely ever
clearly foreseen from the beginning, and very often comes, upon
the generality of readers at least, quite unexpected. We know
not whether Miss Austin ever had access to the precepts of
Aristotle ; but there are few, if any, writers of fiction who have
illustrated them more successfully.

The vivid distinctness of description, the minute fidelity of
detail, and air of unstudied ease in the scenes represented, which
are no less necessary than probability of incident, to carry the
reader's imagination along with the story, and give fiction the
perfect appearance of reality, she possesses in a high degree ;
and the object is accomplished without resorting to those devia-
tions from the ordinary plan of narrative in the third person,
which have been patronized by some eminent masters. We al-
lude to the two other methods of conducting a fictitious story,
viz. either by narrative in the first person, when the hero is
made to tell his own tale, or by a series of letters; both of
which we conceive have been adopted with a view of heighten-
ing the resemblance of the fiction to reality. At first sight, in-
deed, there might appear no reason why a story told in the first
person should have more the air of a real history than in the
third ; especially as the majority of real histories actually are in
the third person. Nevertheless, experience seems to show that
such is the case. Provided there be no want of skill in the
writer, the resemblance to real life, of a fiction thus conducted,
will approach much the nearest (other points being equal) to a
deception, and the interest felt in it, to that which we feel in real
transactions. We need only instance Defoe's Novels, which, in
spite of much improbability, we believe have been oftener mis-
taken for true narratives, than any fictions that ever were com-
posed. Colonel Newport is well known to have been cited as an

294

MODERN NOVELS.

historical authority ; and we have ourselves found great diffi-
culty in convincing many of our friends that Defoe was not
himself the citizen, who relates the plague of London. The
reason probably is, that in the ordinary form of narrative, the
writer is not content to exhibit, like a real historian, a bare de-
tail of such circumstances as might actually have come under
his knowledge ; but presents us with a description of what is
passing in the minds of the parties, and gives an account of their
feelings and motives, as well as their most private conversations
in various places at once. All this is very amusing, but per-
fectly unnatural : the merest simpleton could hardly mistake a
fiction of this kind for a true history, unless he believed the
writer to be endued with omniscience and omnipresence, or to be
aided by familiar spirits, doing the office of Homer's Muses,
whom he invokes to tell him all that could not otherwise be
known;

" 'TfieiQ yap Stot tare, Traptart Tt, tare re Travra."

Let the events, therefore, which are detailed, and the characters
described, be never so natural, the way in which they are pre-
sented to us is of a kind of supernatural cast, perfectly unlike
any real history that ever was or can be written, and thus re-
quiring a greater stretch of imagination in the reader. On the
other hand, the supposed narrator of his own history never pre-
tends to dive into the thoughts and feelings of the other parties ;
he merely describes his own, and gives his conjectures as to
those of the rest, just as a real autobiographer might do ; and
thus an author is enabled to assimilate his fiction to reality,
without withholding that delineation of the inward workings of
the human heart, which is so much coveted. Nevertheless
novels in the first person have not succeeded so well as to make
that mode of writing become very general. It is objected to
them, not without reason, that they want a hero : the person in-
tended to occupy that post being the narrator himself, who of
course cannot so describe his own conduct and character as to
make the reader thoroughly acquainted with him ; though the
attempt frequently produces an offensive appearance of egotism.

MODERN NOVELS. 295

The plan of a fictitious correspondence seems calculated in
some measure to combine the advantages of the other two; since,
by allowing each personage to be the speaker in turn, the feel-
ings of each may be described by himself, and his character and
conduct by another. But these novels are apt to become ex-
cessively tedious; since, to give the letters the appearance of
reality, (without which the main object proposed would be de-
feated,) they must contain a very large proportion of matter
which has no bearing at all upon the story. There is also
generally a sort of awkward disjointed appearance in a novel
which proceeds entirely in letters, and holds together, as it were,
by continual splicing.

Miss Austin, though she has in a few places introduced let-
ters with great effect, has on the whole conducted her novels
on the ordinary plan, describing, without scruple, private con-
versations, and uncommunicated feelings : but she has not been
forgetful of the important maxim, so long ago illustrated by
Homer, and afterwards enforced by Aristotle1, of saying as
little as possible in her own person, and giving a dramatic air
to the narrative, by introducing frequent conversations ; which
she conducts with a regard to character hardly exceeded even
by Shakspeare himself. Like him, she shows as admirable a
discrimination in the characters of fools as of people of sense ;
a merit which is far from common. To invent, indeed, a
conversation full of wisdom or of wit, requires that the writer
should himself possess ability ; but the converse does not hold
good : it is no fool that can describe fools well ; and many
who have succeeded pretty well in painting superior characters,
have failed in giving individuality to those weaker ones,
which it is necessary to introduce in order to give a faithful
representation of real life. They exhibit to us mere folly in the
abstract, forgetting that to the eye of a skilful naturalist the
insects on a leaf present as wide differences as exist between the
elephant and the lion. Slender, and Shallow, and Aguecheek,

1 edtv arj-Jec- Arist. Poet.

296 MODERN NOVELS.

as Shakspeare has painted them, though equally fools, resemble
one another no more than Richard, and Macbeth, and Julius
Csesar; and Miss Austin's Mrs. Bennet, Mr, Rushworth, and
Miss Bates, are no more alike than her Darcy, Knightley, and
Edmund Bertram. Some have complained, indeed, of finding
her fools too much like nature, and consequently tiresome. There
is no disputing about tastes ; all we can say is, that such critics
must (whatever deference they may outwardly pay to received
opinions) find the Merry Wives of Windsor and Twelfth Night
very tiresome; and that those who look with pleasure at
Wilkie's pictures, or those of the Dutch school, must admit that
excellence of imitation may confer attraction on that which
would be insipid or disagreeable in the reality.

Her minuteness of detail has also been found fault with ; but
even where it produces, at the time, a degree of tediousness, we
know not whether that can justly be reckoned a blemish, which
is absolutely essential to a very high excellence. Now, it is
absolutely impossible, without this, to produce that thorough
acquaintance with the characters, which is necessary to make the
reader heartily interested in them. Let any one cut out from
the Iliad, or from Shakspeare's plays, every thing (we are far
from saying that either might not lose some parts with advan-
tage, but let him reject everything) which is absolutely devoid
of importance and of interest in itself; and he will find that
what is left will have lost more than half its charms. We are
convinced that some writers have diminished the effect of their
works by being scrupulous to admit nothing into them which had
not some absolute, intrinsic, and independent merit. They have
acted like those who strip off the leaves of the fruit tree, as
being of themselves good for nothing, with the view of securing
more nourishment to the fruit, which in fact cannot attain its
full maturity and flavour without them.

Mansfield Park contains some of Miss Austin's best moral
lessons, as well as her most humorous descriptions. The follow-
ing specimen unites both : it is a sketch of the mode of education
adopted for the two Miss Bertrams, by their aunt Norris, whose

MODERN NOVELS. 297

father, Sir Thomas, has just admitted into his family a poor
niece, Fanny Price (the heroine), a little younger, and much
less accomplished than his daughters.

" ' Dear Mamma, only think, my cousin cannot put the map of
Europe together — or my cousin cannot tell the principal rivers in
Russia — or she never heard of Asia Minor — or she does not know
the difference between water-colors and crayons ! — How strange! —
Did you ever hear any thing so stupid ? '

" ' My dear,' their considerate aunt would reply ; ' it is very bad,
but you must not expect everybody to be as forward and quick at
learning as yourself.'

" ' But, aunt, she is really so very ignorant ! — Do you know, we
asked her last night, which way she would go to get to Ireland : and
she said she should cross to the Isle of Wight. She thinks of nothing
but the Isle of Wight, and she calls it the Island, as if there were
no other island in the world. I am sure I should have been ashamed
of myself, if I had not known better long before I was so old as she
is I cannot remember the time when I did not know a great deal
that she has not the least notion of yet. How long ago it is, aunt,
since we used to repeat the chronological order of the kings of
England, with the dates of their accession, and most of the principal
events of their reigns ! '

" 'Yes,' added the other; 'and of the Roman emperors as low
as Severus ; besides a great deal of the Heathen Mythology, and all
the Metals, Semi-Metals, Planets, and distinguished philosophers.'

" ' Very true indeed, my dears, but you are blessed with wonder-
ful memories, and your poor cousin has probably none at all. There
is a vast deal of difference in memories, as well as in every thing
else, and therefore you must make allowance with your cousin, and
pity her deficiency. And remember that, if you are ever so forward
and clever yourselves, you should always be modest; for, much as
you know already, there is a great deal more for you to learn.'

" ' Yes, I know there is, till I am seventeen. But I must tell
you another thing of Fanny, so odd, and so stupid. Do you know,
she says she does not want to learn either music or drawing.'

" ' To be sure, my dear, that is very stupid indeed, and shows a
great want of genius and emulation. But all things considered, I
do not know whether it is not as well that it should be so, for,
though you know (owing to me) your papa and mamma are so good as
to bring her up with you, it is not at all necessary that she should
be as accomplished as you are ; — on the contrary, it is much more
desirable that there should be a difference.' " — p. 33.

298 MODERN NOVELS.

The character of Sir Thomas is admirably drawn ; one of
those men who always judge rightly, and act wisely, when a case
is fairly put before them ; but who are quite destitute of acute-
ness of discernment and adroitness of conduct. The Miss
Bertrams, without any peculiarly bad natural disposition, and
merely with that selfishness, self-importance, and want of moral
training, which are the natural result of their education, are
conducted, by a train of probable circumstances, to a catastro-
phe which involves their father in the deepest affliction. It is
melancholy to reflect how many young ladies in the same sphere,
with what is ordinarily called every advantage in point of edu-
cation, are so precisely in the same situation, that if they avoid
a similar fate, it must be rather from good luck than any thing
else. The care that is taken to keep from them every thing in
the shape of affliction, prevents their best feelings from being
exercised ; and the pains bestowed on their accomplishments,
raises their idea of their own consequence : the heart becomes
hard, and is engrossed by vanity with all its concomitant vices.
Mere moral and religious instruction are not adequate to correct
all this. But it is a shame to give in our own language senti-
ments which are so much better expressed by Miss Austin.

" Sir Thomas too late became aware how unfavourable to the
character of any young people, must be the totally opposite treatment
which Maria and Julia had been always experiencing at home,
where the excessive indulgence and flattery of their aunt had been
continually contrasted with his own severity. He saw how ill he
had judged, in expecting to counteract what was wrong in Mrs.
Norris, by its reverse in himself; clearly saw that he had but in-
creased the evil, by teaching them so to repress their spirits in his
presence, as to make their real disposition unknown to him, and
sending them for all their indulgences to a person who had been
able to attach them only by the blindness of her affection and the
excess of her praise.

" Here had been grievous mismanagement ; but, bad as it was,
he gradually grew to feel that it had not been the most direful
mistake in his plan of education. Something must have been want-
ing within, or time would have worn away much of its ill effect.
He feared that principle, active principle, had been wanting, that

MODERN NOVELS. 299

they had never been properly taught to govern their inclinations
and tempers, by that sense of duty which can alone suffice. They
had been instructed theoretically in their religion, but never re-
quired to bring it into daily practice. To be distinguished for
elegance and accomplishments — the authorised object of their youth
— could have had no useful influence that way, no moral effect on
the mind. He had meant them to be good, but his cares had been
directed to the understanding and manners, not the disposition ;
and of the necessity of self-denial and humility, he feared they had
never heard from any lips that could profit them.

" Bitterly did he deplore a deficiency which now he could
scarcely comprehend to have been possible. Wretchedly did he
feel, that with all the cost and care of an anxious and expensive
education, he had brought up his daughters, without their under-
standing their first duties, or his being acquainted with their cha-
racter and temper." — vol. iii. pp. 330 — 332.

Edmund Bertram, the second son, a sensible and worthy
young man, is captivated by a Miss Crawford, who, with her
brother, is on a visit at the Parsonage with her half-sister, Mrs.
Grant : the progress of his passion is very happily depicted :

" Miss Crawford's attractions did not lessen. The harp arrived,
and rather added to her beauty, wit, and good -humour, for she
played with the greatest obligingness, with an expression and taste
which were peculiarly becoming, and there was something clever to
be said at the close of every air. Edmund was at the parsonage
every day to be indulged with his favourite instrument ; one morn-
ing secured an invitation for the next, for the lady could not
be unwilling to have a listener, and every thing was soon in a fair
train.

"A young woman, pretty, lively, with a harp as elegant as
herself ; and .both placed near a window, cut down to the ground,
and opening on a little lawn, surrounded by shrubs in the rich
foliage of summer, was enough to catch any man's heart. The
season, the scene, the air, were all favourable to tenderness and
sentiment." — vol. i. pp. 132, 133.

He is, however, put in doubt as to her character, by the occa-
sional levity of her sentiments, and her aversion to his intended
profession, the church, and to a retired life. Both she and her
brother are very clever, agreeable, and good-humoured, and not
without moral taste, (for Miss Austin does not deal in fiends and

300 MODERN NOVELS.

angels,) but brought up without strict principles, and desti-
tute of real self-denying benevolence. The latter falls in love
with Fanny Price, whom he had been originally intending to
flirt with for his own amusement. She, however, objects to his
principles; being not satisfied with religious belief and practice
in herself, and careless about them in her husband. In this
respect she presents a useful example to a good many modern
females, whose apparent regard for religion in themselves, and
indifference about it in their partners for life, make one some-
times inclined to think that they hold the opposite extreme to
the Turk's opinion, and believe men to have no souls. Her
uncle, Sir Thomas, however, who sees nothing of her objection,
is displeased at her refusal ; and thinking that she may not
sufficiently prize the comforts of wealth to which she has been
so long accustomed, without the aid of contrast, encourages her
paying a visit to her father, a Captain Price, of the Marines,
settled with a large family at Portsmouth. She goes, accom-
panied by her favourite brother William, with all the fond
recollections, and bright anticipations, of a visit after eight
years' absence.

With a candour very rare in a novelist, Miss Austin de-
scribes the remedy as producing its effect. After she has spent
a month in the noise, privations, and vulgarities of home, Mr.
Crawford pays her a visit of a couple of days ; after he was
gone,

" Fanny was out of spirits all the rest of the day. Though
tolerably secure of not seeing Mr. Crawford again, she could not
help being low. It was parting with somebody of the nature of a
friend ; and though in one light glad to have him gone, it seemed
as if she was now deserted by everybody ; it was a sort of renewed
separation from Mansfield ; and she could not think of his returning
to town, and being frequently with Mary and Edmund, without
feelings so near akin to envy, as made her hate herself for having
them.

" Her dejection had no abatement from any thing passing
around her ; a friend or two of her father's, as always happened
if he was not with them, spent the long, long evening there ; and
from six o'clock to half-past nine, there was little intermission of

MODERN NOVELS. 301

noise or grog. She was very low. The wonderful improvement
which she still fancied in Mr. Crawford, was the nearest to admin-
istering comfort of any thing within the current of her thoughts.
Not considering in how different a circle she had been just seeing
him, nor how much might be owing to contrast, she was quite
persuaded of his being astonishingly more gentle, and regardful of
others, than formerly. And if in little things, must it not be so in
great ? So anxious for her health and comfort, so very feeling as
he now expressed himself, and really seemed, might not it be fairly
supposed, that he would not much longer persevere in a suit so
distressing to her ? " — vol. iii. pp. 224, 225.

Fanny is, however, armed against Mr. Crawford by a stronger
feeling than even her disapprobation ; by a vehement attachment
to Edmund. The silence in which this passion is cherished — the
slender hopes and enjoyments by which it is fed — the restlessness
and jealousy with which it fills a mind naturally active, con-
tented and unsuspicious — the manner in which it tinges every
event and every reflection, are painted with a vividness and a
detail of which we can scarcely conceive any one but a female,
and we should almost add, a female writing from recollection,
capable.

To say the truth, we suspect one of Miss Austin's great
merits in our eyes to be, the insight she gives us into the pecu-
liarities of female character. Authoresses can scarcely ever
forget the esprit cle corps — can scarcely ever forget that they are
authoresses. They seem to feel a sympathetic shudder at ex-
posing naked a female mind. Mies se peignent en buste, and
leave the mysteries of womanhood to be described by some in-
terloping male, like Richardson or Marivaux, who is turned out
before he has seen half the rites, and is forced to spin from his
own conjectures the rest. Now from this fault Miss Austin is
free. Her heroines are what one knows women must be, though
one never can get them to acknowledge it. As liable to " fall
in love first," as anxious to attract the attention of agreeable
men, as much taken with a striking manner, or a handsome
face, as unequally gifted with constancy and firmness, as liable
to have their affections biassed by convenience or fashion, as

302 MODERN NOVELS.

we on on our part, will admit men to be. As some illustration
of what we mean, we refer our readers to the conversation
between Miss Crawford and Fanny, vol. iii. p. 102. Fanny's
meeting with her father, p. 199, her reflections after reading
Edmund's letter, 246, her happiness (good, and heroine though
she be) in the midst of the misery of all her friends, when she
finds that Edmund has decidedly broken with her rival ; feelings,
all of them, which, under the influence of strong passion, must
alloy the purest mind, but with which scarcely any authoress
but Miss Austin would have ventured to temper the setherial
materials of a heroine.

But we must proceed to the publication of which the title is
prefixed to this Article. It contains, it seems, the earliest and
the latest productions of the author ; the first of them having
been purchased, we are told, many years back by a bookseller,
who, for some reason unexplained, thought proper to alter his
mind and withhold it. We do not much applaud his taste;
for though it is decidedly inferior to her other works, having
less plot, and what there is, less artificially wrought up, and also
less exquisite nicety of moral painting ; yet the same kind of
excellences which characterise the other novels may be perceived
in thi3, in a degree which would have been highly creditable to
most other writers of the same school, and which would have
entitled the author to considerable praise, had she written
nothing better.

We already begin to fear, that we have indulged too much
in extracts, and we must save some room for Persuasion, or we
could not resist giving a specimen of John Thorpe, with his horse
that cannot go less than ten miles an hour, his refusal to drive his
sister " because she has such thick ankles," and his sober con-
sumption of five pints of port a day ; altogether the best por-
trait of a species, which, though almost extinct, cannot yet be
quite classed among the Palneotheria, the Bang-up Oxonian.
Miss Thorpe, the jilt of middling life, is, in her way, quite as
good, though she has not the advantage of being the repre-
sentative of a rare or a diminishing species. We fear few of

MODERN NOVELS. 303

our readers, however much they may admire the naivete, will
admit the truth of poor John Morland's postscript, "I can
never expect to know such another woman."

The latter of these novels, however, Persuasion, which is
more strictly to be considered as a posthumous work, possesses
that superiority which might be expected from the more mature
age at which it was written, and is second, we think, to none of
the former ones, if not superior to all. In the humorous de-
lineations of character it does not abound quite so much as
some of the others, though it has great merit even on that score ;
but it has more of that tender and yet elevated kind of interest
which is aimed at by the generality of novels, and in pursuit of
which they seldom fail of running into romantic extravagance.
On the whole, it is one of the most elegant fictions of common
life we ever remember to have met with.

Sir Walter Elliot, a silly and conceited baronet, has three
daughters, the eldest two, unmarried, and the third, Mary, the
wife of a neighbouring gentleman, Mr. Charles Musgrove, heir
to a considerable fortune, and living in a genteel cottage in the
neighbourhood* of the Great house which he is hereafter to in-
herit. The second daughter, Anne, who is the heroine, and the
only one of the family possessed of good sense, (a quality which
Miss Austin is as sparing of in her novels, as we fear her great
mistress, Nature, has been in real life,) when on a visit to her
sister, is, by that sort of instinct which generally points out
to all parties the person on whose judgment and temper they
may rely, appealed to in all the little family differences which
arise, and which are described with infinite spirit and detail.

The following touch reminds us, in its minute fidelity to
nature, of some of the happiest strokes in the subordinate parts
of Hogarth's prints : Mr. C. Musgrove has an aunt whom he
wishes to treat with becoming attention, but who, from being of
a somewhat inferior class in point of family and fashion, is
studiously shunned by his wife, who has all the family pride of
her father and eldest sister : he takes the opportunity of a walk
with a large party on a fine day, to visit this despised relation,

304 MODERN NOVELS.

but cannot persuade his wife to accompany him ; she pleads
fatigue, and remains with the rest to await his return ; and he
walks home with her, not much pleased at the incivility she has
shown.

" She (Anne Elliot) joined Charles and Mary, and was tired
enough to be very glad of Charles's other arm; — but Charles,
though in very good humour with her, was out of temper with his
wife. Mary had shown herself disobliging to him, and was now to
reap the consequence, which consequence was his dropping her arm
almost every moment, to cut off the heads of some nettles in the
hedge with his switch ; and when Mary began to complain of it,
and lament her being ill-used, according to custom, in being on the
hedge side, while Anne was never incommoded on the other, he
dropped the arms of both to hunt after a weasel which he had a
momentary glance of; and they could hardly get him along at
all."— vol. iii. pp. 211, 212.

But the principal interest arises from a combination of events
which cannot be better explained than by a part of the pre-
fatory narrative, which forms, in general, an Euripidean pro-
logue to Miss Austin's novels.

" He was not Mr. Wentworth, the former curate of Monkford,
however suspicious appearances may be, but a Captain Frederick
Wentworth, his brother, who being made commander in conse-
quence of the action off St. Domingo, and not immediately employed,
had come into Somersetshire, in the summer of 1806 ; and having
no parent living, found a home for half a year, at Monkford. He
was, at that time, a remarkably fine young man, with a good deal
of intelligence, spirit, and brilliancy ; and Anne an extremely pretty
girl, with gentleness, modesty, taste, and feeling. Half the sum of
attraction, on either side, might have been enough ; for he had
nothing to do, and she had hardly anybody to love ; but the
encounter of such lavish recommendations could not fail. They
were gradually acquainted, and when acquainted, rapidly and deeply
in love. It would be difficult to say which had seen highest per-
fection in the other, or which had been the happiest ; she in
receiving his declarations and proposals, or he in having them
accepted.

" A short period of exquisite felicity followed, and but a short
one. Troubles soon arose. Sir Walter, on being applied to, with-
out actually withholding his consent, or saying it should never be,

MODERN NOVELS. 305

gave it all the negative of great astonishment, great coldness, great
silence, and a professed resolution of doing nothing for his daughter .
He thought it a very degrading alliance ; and Lady Russell, though
with more tempered and pardonable pride, received it as a most
unfortunate one.

"Anne Elliot, with all her claims of birth, beauty, and mind,
to throw herself away at nineteen ; involve herself at nineteen in an
engagement with a young man, who had nothing but himself to
recommend him, and no hopes of attaining affluence, but in the
chances of a most uncertain profession, and no connexions to secure
even his further rise in that profession ; would be, indeed, a throw-
ing away, which she grieved to think of! Anne Elliot, so young ;
known to so few, to be snatched off by a stranger without alliance
or fortune ; or rather sunk by him into a state of most wearing,
anxious, youth-killing dependence ! It must not be, if by any fair
interference of friendship, any representations from one who had
almost a mother's love, and mother's rights, it could be prevented.

" Captain Wentworth had no fortune. He had been lucky in
his profession, but spending freely, what had come freely, had
realized nothing. But, he was confident that he should soon be
rich ; full of life and ardour, he knew that he should soon have a
ship, and soon be on a station that would lead to every thing he
wanted. He had always been lucky ; he knew he should be
so still. Such confidence, powerful in its own warmth, and be-
witching in the wit which often expressed it, must have been
enough for Anne ; but Lady Russell saw it very differently. His
sanguine temper, and fearlessness of mind, operated very differently
on her. She saw in it but an aggravation of the evil. It only
added a dangerous character to himself. He was brilliant, he wa3
headstrong. Lady Russell had little taste for wit ; and of any thing
approaching to imprudence a horror. She deprecated the connexion
in every light.

" Such opposition, as these feelings produced, was more than
Anne could combat. Young and gentle as she was, it might yet
have been possible to withstand her father's ill-will, though un-
softened by one kind word or look on the part of her sister ; but
Lady Russell, whom she had always loved and relied on, could not,
with such steadiness of opinion, and such tenderness of manner,
be continually advising her in vain. She was persuaded to be-
lieve the engagement a wrong thing— indiscreet, improper, hardly
capable of success, and not deserving it. But it was not a merely
selfish caution, under which she acted, in putting an end to it.
Had she not imagined herself consulting his good, even more than
W. E. X

306 MODERN NOVELS.

her own, she could hardly have given him up. The helief of being
prudent, and self-denying principally for his advantage, was her
chief consolation, under the misery of a parting — a final parting ;
and every consolation was required, for she had to encounter all the
additional pain of opinions, on his side, totally unconvinced and un-
bending, and of his feeling himself ill-used by so forced a relin-
quishment. He had left the country in consequence.

" A few months had seen the beginning and the end of their
acquaintance ; but, not with a few months ended Anne's share of
suffering from it. Her attachment and regrets had, for a long
time, clouded every enjoyment of youth ; and an early loss of
bloom and spirits had been their lasting effect.

" More than seven years were gone since this little history of
6orrowful interest had reached its close ; and time had softened down
much, perhaps nearly all of peculiar attachment to him, — but she
had been too dependent on time alone ; no aid had been given in
change of place, (except in one visit to Bath soon after the rupture,)
or in any novelty or enlargement of society. No one had ever
come within the Kellynch circle, who could bear a comparison with
Frederick Wentworth, as he stood in her memory. No second
attachment, the only thoroughly natural, happy, and sufficient cure,
at her time of life, had been possible to the nice tone of her mind,
the fastidiousness of her taste, in the small limits of the society
around them. She had been solicited, when about two-and-twenty,
to change her name, by the young man, who not long afterwards
found a more willing mind in her younger sister ; and Lady
Russell had lamented her refusal ; for Charles Musgrovo was the
eldest son of a man, whose landed property and general importance
were second, in that country, only to Sir Walter's, and of good
character and appearance ; and however Lady Russell might have
asked yet for something more, while Anne was nineteen, she would
have rejoiced to see her at twenty-two, so respectably removed from
the partialities and injustice of her father's house, and settled so
permanently near herself. But in this case, Anne had left nothing
for advice to do ; and though Lady Russell, as satisfied as ever with
her own discretion, never wished the past undone, she began now
to have the anxiety, which borders on hopelessness, for Anne's
being tempted, by some man of talents and independence, to enter
a state for which she held her to be peculiarly fitted by her warm
affections and domestic habits.

" They knew not each other's opinion, either its constancy or
its change, on the one leading point of Anne's conduct, for the subject
was never alluded to, — but Anne, at seven-and-twenty, thought

MODERN NOVELS. 307

very differently from what she had been made to think at nineteen.
— She did not blame Lady Russell, she did not blame herself for
having been guided by her ; but she felt that were any young
person, in similar circumstances, to apply to her for counsel, they
would never receive any of such certain immediate wretchedness,
such uncertain future good. — She was persuaded that, under every
disadvantage of disapprobation at home, and every anxiety attending
his profession, all their probable fears, delays, and disappointments,
she should yet have been a happier woman in maintaining the
engagement, than she had been in the sacrifice of it; and this, she
fully believed, had the usual share, had even more than a usual
share of all such solicitudes and suspense been theirs, without
reference to the actual results of their case, which, as it happened,
would have bestowed earlier prosperity than could be reasonably
calculated on. All his sanguine expectations, all his confidence, had
been justified. His genius and ardour had seemed to foresee and
to command his prosperous path. He had, very soon after their
engagement ceased, got employ ; and all that he had told her would
follow, had taken place. He had distinguished himself, and early
gained the other step in rank — and must now, by successive
captures, have made a handsome fortune. She had only navy
lists and newspapers for her authority, but she could not doubt
his being rich ; — and, in favour of his constancy, she had no reason
to believe him married.

" How eloquent could Anne Elliot have been, — how eloquent,
at least, were her wishes, on the side of early warm attachment, and
a cheerful confidence in futurity, against that over-anxious caution
which seems to insult exertion and distrust Providence ! — She had
been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned romance as
she grew older — the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning." —
vol. iii. pp. 57—67.

After an absence of eight years, he returns to her neigh-
bourhood, and circumstances throw them frequently in contact.
Nothing can be more exquisitely painted than her feelings on
such occasions. First, dread of the meeting, — then, as that
is removed by custom, renewed regret for the happiness she
has thrown away, and the constantly recurring contrast, though
known only to herself, between the distance of their intercourse
and her involuntary sympathy with all his feelings, and instant
comprehension of all his thoughts, of the meaning of every

x3

308 MODERN NOVELS.

glance of his eye, and curl of his lip, and intonation of his
voice. In him her mild good sense and elegance gradually
re-awake long-forgotten attachment : but with it return the
usual accompaniments of undeclared love, distrust of her senti-
ments towards him, and suspicions of their being favourable
to another. In this state of regretful jealousy he overhears,
while writing a letter, a conversation she is holding with his
friend Captain Harville, respecting another naval friend, Captain
Benwick, who had been engaged to the sister of the former,
and very speedily after her death had formed a fresh engage-
ment : we cannot refrain from inserting an extract from this
conversation, which is exquisitely beautiful.

" ' Your feelings may be the strongest,' replied Anne, ' but the
same spirit of analogy will authorise me to assert that ours are the
most tender. Man is more robust than woman, but he is not
longer-lived ; which exactly explains my view of the nature of
their attachments. Nay, it would be too hard upon you, if it were
otherwise. You have difficulties, and privations, and dangers
enough to struggle with. You are always labouring and toiling,
exposed to every risk and hardship. Your home, country, friends,
all quitted. Neither time, nor health, nor life, to be called your
own. It would be too hard indeed' (with a faltering voice) 'if
woman's feelings were to be added to all this.'

" ' We shall never agree upon this question' — Captain Harville
was beginning to say, when a slight noise called their attention to
Captain Wentworth's hitherto perfectly quiet division of the room.
It was nothing more than that his pen had fallen down, but Anne
was startled at finding him nearer than she had supposed, and half
inclined to suspect that the pen had only fallen, because he had
been occupied by them, striving to catch sounds, which yet she
did not think he could have caught.

" ' Have you finished your letter?' said Captain Harville. 'Not
quite, a few lines more. I shall have done in five minutes.'

" ' There is no hurry on my side. I am only ready whenever
you are. — I am in very good anchorage here,' (smiling at
Anne) ' well supplied, and want for nothing. — No hurry for a
signal at all. — Well, Miss Elliot,' (lowering his voice) 'as I was
saying, we shall ^ never agree I suppose upon this point. No
man and woman would, probably. But let me observe that all
histories are against you, all stories, prose and verse. If I

MODERN NOVELS. 309

had such a memory as Benwick, I could bring you fifty
quotations in a moment on my side the argument, and I do not
think I ever opened a book in my life which had not something to
say upon woman's inconstancy. Songs and proverbs, all talk of
woman's fickleness. But perhaps you will say, these were all writ-
ten by men.'

" ' Perbaps I shall. Yes, yes, if you please, no reference to ex-
amples in books. Men have had every advantage of us in telling their
own story. Education has been theirs in so much higher a degree :
the pen has been in their hands. I will not allow books to prove
any thing.'

" ' But how shall we prove any thing ? r

" ' We never shall. We never can expect to prove any thing
upon such a point. It is a difference of opinion which does not ad-
mit of proof. We each begin probably with a little bias towards
our own sex, and upon that bias build every circumstance in favour
of it which has occurred within our own circle ; many of which cir-
cumstances (perhaps those very cases which strike us the most)
may be precisely such as cannot be brought forward without betray-
ing a confidence, or in some respects saying what should not be
said.'

" ' Ah !' cried Captain Karville, in a tone of strong feeling, ' if I
could but make you comprehend what a man suffers when he takes
a last look at his wife and children, and watches the boat that he
has sent them off in, as long as it is in sight, and then turns away
and says, ' God knows whether we ever meet again !' And then,
if I could convey to you the glow of his soul when he does see
them again ; when, coming back after a twelvemonth's absence
perhaps, and obliged to put into another port, he calculates how
soon it will be possible to get them there, pretending to- deceive
himself, and saying, ' They cannot be here till such a day,' but all
the while hoping for them twelve hours sooner, and seeing them
arrive at last, as if Heaven had given them wings, by many hours
sooner still I If I could explain to you all this, and all that a man
can bear and do, and glories to do, for the sake of these treasures of
his existence f I speak, you know, only of such men as have hearts!'
pressing his own with emotion.

" ' Oh !' cried Anne eagerly, ' I hope I do justice to all that is
felt by you, and by those who resemble you. God forbid that I
should undervalue the warm and faithful feelings of any of my
fellow-creatures. I should deserve utter contempt if I dared to
suppose that true attachment and constancy were known only by
woman. No, I believe you capable of every thing great and good

310 MODERN NOVELS.

in your married lives. I believe you equal to every important
exertion, and to every domestic forbearance, so long as — if I may
be allowed the expression, so long as you have an object. I mean,
while the woman you love lives, and lives for you. All the pri-
vilege I claim for my own sex (it is not a very enviable one, you
need not covet it) is that of loving longest, when existence or when
hope is gone.'

" She could not immediately have uttered another sentence ; her
heart was too full, her breath too much oppressed." — vol. iv. pp. 263
—269.

While this conversation has been going on, he has been
replying to it on paper, under the appearance of finishing his
letter : he puts the paper into her hand, and hurries away.

" ' I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such
means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half
agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late ; that such precious
feelings ai'e gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart
even more your own, than when you almost broke it eight years and
a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that
his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust
I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never incon-
stant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For yo\i alone I
think and plan. — Have you not seen this ? Can you fail to have
understood my wishes ? — I had not waited even these ten days,
could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated
mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something
which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish
the tones of that voice, when they would be lost on others. — Too
good, too excellent creature ! You do us justice indeed. You do
believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men.
Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating in

' f. \\: "

We ventured, in a former Article, to remonstrate against the
dethronement of the once powerful God of Love, in his own
most especial domain, the novel ; and to suggest that, in shun-
ning the ordinary fault of recommending by examples a romantic
and uncalculating extravagance of passion, Miss Austin had
rather fallen into the opposite extreme of exclusively patronizing
what are called prudent matches, and too much disparaging

MODERN NOVELS. 311

sentimental enthusiasm. We urged, that, mischievous as is the
extreme on this side, it is not the one into which the young
folks of the present day are the most likely to run : the pre-
vailing fault is not now, whatever it may have been, to sacrifice
all for love :

" Venit enim magnum donandi parca juventus,
Nee tantum Veneris quantum studiosa culinse.''

We may now, without retracting our opinion, bestow un-
qualified approbation ; for the distresses of the present heroine
all arise from her prudent refusal to listen to the suggestions
of her heart. The catastrophe however is happy, and we are
left in doubt whether it would have been better for her or not,
to accept the first proposal ; and this we conceive is precisely
the proper medium ; for, though we would not have prudential
calculations the sole principle to be regarded in marriage, we are
far from advocating their exclusion. To disregard the advice of
sober-minded friends on an important point of conduct, is an im-
prudence we would by no means recommend ; indeed, it is a spe-
cies of selfishness, if, in listening only to the dictates of passion, a
man sacrifices to its gratification the happiness of those most dear
to him as well as his own ; though it is not now-a-days the most
prevalent form of selfishness. But it is no condemnation of a
sentiment to say, that it becomes blameable when it interferes
with duty, and is uncontrouled by conscience : the desire of
riches, power, or distinction, — the taste for ease and comfort, —
are to be condemned when they transgress these bounds ; and
love, if it keep within them, even though it be somewhat tinged
with enthusiasm, and a little at variance with what the worldly
call prudence, i.e. regard for pecuniary advantage, may afford
a better moral discipline to the mind than most other passions.
It will not at least be denied, that it has often proved a power-
ful stimulus to exertion where others have failed, and has called
forth talents unknown before even to the possessor. What,
though the pursuit may be fruitless, and the hopes visionary ?
The result may be a real and substantial benefit, though of

312 MODERN NOVELS.

another kind ; the vineyard may have been cultivated by digging
in it for the treasure which is never to be found. What, though
the perfections with which imagination has decorated the be-
loved object, may, in fact, exist but in a slender degree? still
they are believed in and admired as real ; if not, the love is
such as does not merit the name ; and it is proverbially true
that men become assimilated to the character (i.e. what they
think the character) of the Being they fervently adore : thus, as
in the noblest exhibitions of the stage, though that which is
contemplated be but a fiction, it may be realized in the mind of
the beholder ; and, though grasping at a cloud, he may become
worthy of possessing a real goddess. Many a generous senti-
ment, and many a virtuous resolution, have been called forth
and matured by admiration of one, who may herself perhaps
have been incapable of either. It matters not what the object
is that a man aspires to be worthy of, and proposes as a model
for imitation, if he does but lelieve it to be excellent. More-
over, all doubts of success (and they are seldom, if ever,
entirely wanting) must either produce or exercise humility ; and
the endeavour to study another's interests and inclinations, and
prefer them to one's own, may promote a habit of general
benevolence which may outlast the present occasion. Every
thing, in short, which tends to abstract a man in any degree, or
in any way, from self, — from self-admiration and self-interest,
has, so far at least, a beneficial influence in forming the cha-
racter.

On the whole, Miss Austin's works may safely be recom-
mended, not only as among the most unexceptionable of their
class, but as combining, in an eminent degree, instruction with
amusement, though without the direct effort at the former, of
which we have complained, as sometimes defeating its object.
For those who cannot, or will not, learn any thing from produc-
tions of this kind, she has provided entertainment which entitles
her to thanks ; for mere innocent amusement is in itself a good,
when it interferes with no greater ; especially as it may occupy
the place of some other that may not be innocent. The Eastern

MODERN NOVELS. 313

monarch who proclaimed a reward to him who should discover a
new pleasure, would have deserved well of mankind had he
stipulated that it should be blameless. Those, again, who
delight in the study of human nature, may improve in the
knowledge of it, and in the profitable application of that know-
ledge, by the perusal of such fictions as those before us.

IV.

THE JUVENILE LIBRARY.

1. Scenes of British Wealth, in Produce, Manufactures, and
Commerce, for the Amusement and Instruction of little Tarry-
at-Home Travellers. By the Rev. I. Taylor, Author of
" Scenes in England, Europe, Asia, Africa, and America."
2d Edit. 1825.

2. Grecian Stories. By Maria Hack. 2d Edit. 1828.

3. Familiar Illustrations of the Principal Evidences and Design
of Christianity. By Maria Hack. 1824.

4. Conversations on the Life of Jesus Christ ; for the Use of
Children. By a Mother. 1828.

Of the many great and wonderful changes which the present
generation has witnessed, in almost every department of life,
literature, including under that term all the productions of the
press, has of course had its share; and in no description of
books, we conceive, has a greater alteration taken place, than in
those designed for the instruction and entertainment of children,
in what is popularly termed the Juvenile Library. The change
in the character of these books has been accompanied, perhaps
in a great measure produced, by a change in the general estimate
of their importance. To most of our readers accordingly, no
apology, we imagine, is needed for inviting their attention to
a subject which, a century back, would probably have been
thought beneath the dignity of grave criticism. Few persons
in the present day would admit, as our forefathers seem practi-
cally to have done, that any thing is good enough for children to
read, provided it be not of a directly immoral tendency ; or that
grammars, and other school-books, as they are called, are alone
worthy of serious attention ; while books of amusement for chil-
dren are a matter of as much indifference, as it is, whether they

JUVENILE LIBRARY. 315

divert themselves with tops or with hoops. The precept of the
poet, that maxima debetur pueris reverentia, — that in the seed-
time of life it is of especial importance to have the land clean
and well dressed, — seems to be every day better understood.
No one, indeed, can ever have been ignorant, that the children
of this generation are the next generation itself; — that they are
the " to-morrow" of society. But it has hardly been sufficiently
considered, how much more important, because more permanent,
are the impressions, of whatever kind, which are made during
the season of intellectual and moral growth ; even as the body
may be deformed or crippled for life, by some comparatively
slight hurt in infancy. And still less have men in general con-
sidered the readiness to receive impressions which we have in
early life. It is a great mistake, often made in practice, if not
in theory, to suppose that a child's character, intellectual and
moral, is formed by those books only which we put into his
hands with that design. " Many things grow in the garden,"
says the homely but true proverb, " which were never sown
there," When the principles are settled indeed, either for good
or for evil, — when the character of the man is matured, he may
often be occupied and interested for the time, in reading some-
thing which leaves no lasting impression ; but hardly any thing
can accidentally touch the soft clay, without stamping its mark
on it. Hardly any reading can interest a child, without contri-
buting in some degree, though the book itself be afterwards
totally forgotten, to form the character1 ; and the parents, there-
fore, who, merely requiring from him a certain course of study,
pay little or no attention to " story-books," are educating him
they know not how.

The contrast which children's books now present, to those
which were thumbed by our fathers and ourselves, is more pal-
pably striking, perhaps, in the comparatively unimportant point
of typographical decoration. The plates, in particular, which

1 In many cases, we suspect, the democratical leaning communicated by Sandford
and Merton might be traced through life.

316 JUVENILE LIBRARY.

are now to be seen in most of the books designed for children,
are often very beautiful specimens of art. This improvement
is, no doubt, in a great degree attributable to the introduction
of engravings from steel, which, when the sale is great, can be
furnished, on account of the durable quality of the material, at
a low rate, even from the designs of eminent artists ; and some-
thing also is to be attributed to the improved state of the art of
engraving ; which appears, not so much in the superior excel-
lence of the best artists, as in the increased number of respect-
able ones. But, on the whole, the appearance of children's books
in general, in respect of paper, typography, and plates, con-
trasted with what satisfied our predecessors, is such as to indi-
cate both a great and a liberal demand for such books, as well
as an improvement in national taste : and one which is likely to
cultivate that taste, by fostering a turn for drawing.

By far the most important difference, however, is the more fre-
quent and skilful interweaving, both of scientific, and of moral and
religious instruction, with amusement, in the tales, dialogues, &c,
designed for children. It used to be generally thought sufficient
to teach children their catechism, together with certain collects
and psalms ; trusting to this alone, or principally, for the inculca-
tion of right principles and sentiments ; and leaving them to find
amusement in books, for the most part unmeaning or unpro-
fitable. Now we are far from advocating the system of putting
forward, very prominently, " the moral," in every work of fiction ;
especially such as are designed for the entertainment of adults.
Men are apt to be disgusted, more than profited, by a " dramatic
or narrative sermon." But it has been always admitted, that
works of fiction may be made conducive to higher purposes than
mere amusement ; and they are worse than unprofitable, if they
uniformly and totally exclude all reference to christian princi-
ples, and never display their application, or at least applicability,
to the affairs of common life ; if they represent every charac-
ter, the good as well as the bad, as acting from the impulse of
better or worse feelings alone, and never trace their goodness
or badness to the operation, or the want of christian principle.

JUVENILE LIBRARY. 317

For the prevailing error of those who do not reject religion
altogether, is to regard it, practically, as a theory, to be studied
in the closet, and publicly acknowledged in the church, and
attended to on Sundays, but (according to the notion of Parson
Adams's wife) not to be profaned by any association with the
week-day transactions of life1. And children are even more
liable to this error than grown persons, because they are less
capable of abstraction ; less qualified, therefore, for applying
the system of general principles — the theory — they may have
learned, to particular cases of practice, if they are not accus-
tomed to see these principles exemplified. And, it should be
added, that as they have the greater need of this help, so they
can also better tolerate it ; as they require to have general prin-
ciples illustrated by application to particular cases of conduct,
so they can endure and relish a more distinctly moral tale, than
would be acceptable to adults ; whose very censure indeed of
such a work, by the epithet " puerile," seems to confirm what
has been just said.

Selected stories out of scripture, put into language better
accommodated to children than that of an exact translation2,
seem to have been, till very lately, almost the only attempt to
give a pleasing interest to useful instruction, and a profitable
character to amusement ; and even of these we find no trace (or
hardly any) before the time of Mrs. Trimmer.

1 " There is an extreme reluctance
amongst many who are very zealous sup-
porters of the outward establishment of
Christianity, to admitting its principles
in the concerns of common life, in mat-
ters belonging to their own trade or pro-
fession ; or, above all, in the conduct of
national affairs. They will not tolerate
its spirit in their every day practice, but
ridicule it as visionary and impractica-
ble. Now, if the language of sermons
be vague and general ; if it do not apply
clearly and directly to our own times,
our own ways of life, and habits of

practice safe out of the reach of its in-
fluence, they deceive themselves by their
willingness to hear it, and by their ac-
quiescence, and even their delight in it."
— Preface to Dr. Arnold's Sermons.

2 " Even with regard to the scripture
itself, it is surely the spirit of it, and not
the language, which is of eternal appli-
cation and efficacy ; and that spirit will
generally be most effectually conveyed in
our writings, through a medium different
from that which was originally chosen ;
because we and the first converts to
Christianity are so different in climate,

thought and action, men elude its hold in national customs and feelings ; in our
upon their consciences with a wonderful ; trains of thought and modes of expres-
dextcrity ; and keeping their common > sion." — Preface to Dr. Arnold's Sermons.

318 JUVENILE LIBRARY.

It must, we think, be admitted by all who are convinced of
the truth and of the importance of our religion, that an early
familiarity with the facts connected with it, conveyed either in
the words of scripture itself, or in some others, is of the highest
consequence. Christianity is an historical religion : it derives
not only its evidence, but its doctrines also, not from philoso-
phical speculations, but from certain events alleged to have
taken place. And moreover s

"As children," (says one of the best writers [Mrs. Hoare] on
education which this or any age has produced,) " are little capable
of receiving abstract ideas, it is probable that they will not derive
much benefit from being instructed in doctrines separate from facts.
— By facts, we may convey a strong and simple view of the most
important truths of Christianity. If, for example, we can represent
in lively colours to their imaginations, the beautiful history of our
Lord calming the storm when ' the waves beat into the ship,' and
his voice was ' mightier than the noise of many waters,' they will
imbibe a stronger and more practical sense of his almighty power,
than could have been imparted to them by any bare statement of
his divinity. We shall also best be able to impress upon their
minds his infinite mercy and compassion towards us, by reading or
relating to them, so as to realize the transactions, and interest the
feelings, such narratives as those of our Lord's taking the infants in
his arms, and blessing them ; of his raising the widow's son, of his
healing the lunatic child ; and, lastly, of his suffering and dying for
our sakes, that we might be made the heirs of eternal life." — Hints
on Early Education.

But, besides this historical knowledge of religion, and incul-
cation of general moral precepts, it is essential to right education
that children should be familiarized with the application, in
biography or in fiction, of religious and moral principles, to the
ordinary conduct either of children, or of persons with whose
feelings and situations children can sympathize.

And this view seems of late to have been so generally ad-
mitted, as to have given rise to a number of (better or worse
executed) attempts, to embody in works calculated to amuse
children, more or less, not only of scientific, but also of moral
and religious instruction. Not, of course, that there are not

JUVENILE LIBRARY. 319

still in use many books -which have no such object ; but many
of our readers must well remember, that in their younger days,
Whittington and his Cat, Jack the Giant-killer, and other tales
of the same stamp, were in the hands of older children than
now, and constituted a much larger proportion of the youthful
library.

No system can be without its own specific evils and dangers ;
but, on the whole, we consider that change which in this depart-
ment characterizes the present day, as a decided improvement.
We say, on the whole, because we are sensible that it is only
with some important limitations and modifications that the
assertion can be maintained.

In the first place, if children are allowed to be familiar with
moral and religious feelings and conduct, in works of fiction, and
no where else, books of this description will do more harm than
good, or at the best will be wholly unprofitable. Virtue and
piety will by this means become associated in their minds with
fable; and they will thus be led into that fallacy to which
human nature is always prone, especially in all that relates to
the conscientious regulation of our conduct, that of regarding
any system as " true in theory, but unfit for practice ;" as if the
falsity, or at least imperfection, of any theory, were not at once
demonstrated by an experimental failure. We remember a stu-
dent of mathematics, after having gone through and seemingly
understood Euclid's proof, that the squares of the sides con-
taining a right angle are equal to the square of the side
subtending it, remarking, to the astonishment and dismay of
his teacher, "but it is not really so, is it Sir?" Many who
would laugh at this query, might yet be found assenting to all
the reasoning on which some political or other measure should
be maintained, and then coolly remarking that it is practically
false, though theoretically true : or, themselves maintaining
some principles of moral conduct, which yet they consider them-
selves as not bound to exemplify in their own practice, though
they may be very suitable to a moral tale. And in proportion
as men are accustomed (much more, children) to contemplate

320 JUVENILE LIBRARY.

and admire virtue, without being taught, by example or other-
wise, that they are expected to realize the picture, they will
become the less fitted for the actual performance of their duties.

" Going over the theory of virtue," says Bishop Butler, " in
one's thoughts, talking well, and drawing fine pictures of it ; this
is so far from necessarily or certainly conducing to form a habit
of it in him who thus employs himself, that it may harden the
mind in a contrary course, and render it gradually more insen-
sible ; i.e. form a habit of insensibility to all moral obligations.
For from our very faculty of habits, passive impressions, by
being repeated, grow weaker. Thoughts, by often passing
through the mind, are felt less sensibly ; being accustomed to
danger begets intrepidity, i. e. lessens fear ; to distress, lessens
the passion of pity ; to instances of other's mortality, lessens the
sensible apprehension of our own." And such a mode of educa-
tion deceives the parent as well as the child. A false security
is engendered in the mind : they think that they have provided
a good moral and religious training, when they have not ; when
they have only informed the understanding by imparting a
knowledge of good principles, without affording discipline to the
heart by teaching the application of them : a procedure which
resembles an attempt to teach a child a language by merely
learning grammar rules, without parsing, construing, and com-
posing.

With rer-pect to the books employed, that care is requisite in
the choice of them is too obvious to be insisted on. But we
must not omit to notice a mistake into which some of the best
intentioned writers have fallen, in their zeal to impart to children
religious principles. They have sometimes introduced a reference
to these principles in connexion with matters too trifling and
undignified ; forgetting the maxim, whose notorious truth has
made it proverbial, that excessive familiarity breeds contempt.
We have already entered our protest against the notion, that
religious principles are to be kept in reserve for rare and great
occasions, and excluded from the every -day affairs of life; nulla
enim vitce pars —vacare officio potest ? but still every one must

JUVENILE LIBRARY. 321

admit, that there are occasions on which the introduction of
religious motives would not be (at least to a mind not yet
possessing a full-formed and deep-rooted religious habit,)
attended with any benefit which would compensate for the risk,
to a tender and growing character, of impairing, by mean
associations, the reverence due to the highest subjects.

It may be replied, however, that according to this rule no re-
ference of religion to practice — to such practice, i. e. as children
are themselves concerned in, can ever be presented to their
minds ; because in what are considered as the weightier affairs
of life, they are not engaged : all that commands or can com-
mand their attentive sympathy, must be what, to us, are trifles.
So that if religion is to be kept apart from these, it cannot be
exhibited to them at all in a practical point of view.

All this we admit ; and we admit also that the more prevailing
tendency is towards the contrary extreme to that against which
our caution was directed ; towards the extreme of avoiding too
much the practical resort to the highest principles in ordinary
life ; — towards the preservation of a due reverence for religion, at
the expense of its useful application in conduct. But a line
may be drawn which will keep clear of both extremes. We
should not exclude, in books designed for children, the association
of things sacred with whatever are to ourselves trifling matters,
(for " these little things are great" to them,) but, with whatever
is viewed by them as trifling. Every thing is great or small in
reference to the parties concerned. The private concerns of any
obscure individual are very insignificant to the world at large ;
but they are of great importance to himself. And all worldly
affairs must be small in the sight of the Most High ; but irreve-
rent familiarity is engendered in the mind of any one, then, and
then only, when things sacred are associated with such as are,
to him, insignificant trifles.

And here an important distinction presents itself, between
religious and moral truths on the one hand, and those of science
on the other, which are also frequently conveyed to youthful
minds through the medium of amusing tales and dialogues. A

W. E. Y

322 JUVENILE LIBRARY.

child cannot be made too familiar with arithmetic or geography,
with botany or mechanics. Even ludicrous associations will
here frequently have their use, on account of the superior hold
which, (according to the observation of the poet',) they are
frequently found to have on the memory : and if the truths of
any science are but understood and remembered, that is all we
want. Even if the youth should seldom or never have occasion
to make any practical application of his knowledge till long
after, it is not of the less value to have it familiarized to the
mind and ready for use when wanted. Not so with religion
and morality : they are to be taught not as mere sciences, but
as practical habits: and not only is the utility of good princi-
ples, considered in this point of view, destroyed by degrading
associations, but also, even if that evil be avoided, a familiar
knowledge of these principles if disjoined from practice, is so
far from being of any advantage, that, according to the obser-
vation of Bishop Butler already cited, it is even detrimental to
the moral character.

Another caution which we would suggest relative to the
choice of books, is to avoid presenting to the minds of children
anything too abstruse and mystical to be in any degree embraced
by their understandings, or to interest their feelings ; lest an
association, perhaps indelible, be formed in the tender mind
between the idea of religion, and that of the dry, the abstruse,
the unintelligible, and the purely speculative.

We do not of course mean to countenance the error of those
who advocate the omission, in works designed for children, (and
indeed for the great mass of the people,) of every thing in Chris-
tianity which is peculiar to it, — in short of all that they call
" doctrinal" points, retaining only moral precepts ; on the ground
that children and the vulgar cannot comprehend " mysteries."
There is indeed much that is mysterious (in the modern2 sense
of the word, i. e. unexplained, and probably inexplicable to Man)

1 "Discit enim citius meminitque libentius illud

Quod quis deridet, quam quod probat et veneratur." — IIorat.
2 Not in the ancient sense. See the Article Mvarfipiov in Parkhurst's Lexicon.

JUVENILE LIBRARY. 323

connected with the most important doctrines of Christianity ;
but if we were, on that ground, to keep back all such doc-
trines from children, as if those doctrines themselves were there-
fore unintelligible to them, we should be waiting for a period
which can never arrive in this world ; since of things beyond
the reach of human faculties the wisest man can understand no
more than a child. We are persuaded that most of the leading
truths of Christianity can be not only in a great degree compre-
hended, but comprehended in their practical import, by persons
much below maturity of age ; though a perfect comprehension
of them is unattainable by Man : and of truths purely specula-
tive, having no practical import, we believe that few or none are
revealed. We would have children gradually instructed first, in
the facts on which our religion rests ; and, through the me-
dium of these, in christian doctrines, as far as, and in propor-
tion as, they become capable of embracing them, and of forming
a notion of their practical utility. And we cannot but think
that in proportion as this mode of education is pursued, the
remnants of scholastic divinity which still, to- a considerable de-
gree, linger amongst protestants, would gradually wear out ;
the Scriptures would be searched, not for (what they do not
contain) a system of theological philosophy, — a set of specula-
tive dogmas relative to the intrinsic nature of the Deity, — but
for religion properly so called, i.e. a practical knowledge of the
relations between God and Man ; and the cultivation of active
religious principles would take the place of a barren veneration
for things sacred.

We are glad to be able again to appeal to the judgment
of the deservedly popular author before cited.

" It is of great importance that all religious instruction be given
to children with reference to practice. If they are taught that God
is their Creator and Preserver, it is that they may obey, love, and
adore Him ; if, that Christ is their Almighty Saviour, it is that they
may love Him, give themselves up to Him, and trust in Him alone for
forgiveness and salvation. If, that the Holy Spirit is the - Lord and
Giver of life,' it is that they should beware of grieving that secret
guide, which will lead them out of evil, will enable them to bring

t3

324 JUVENILE LIBRARY.

forth the fruits of righteousness, and prepare them for a state of
blessedness hereafter. The omnipresence of God should, also, be
strongly and practically impressed upon the mind in early life, not
only as a truth peculiarly calculated to influence the conduct, but,
as a continual source of consolation and support in trouble and
danger.

" It is to be remembered, that religious instruction is not to be
forced upon children : wisdom is required in communicating it to
them, that we may give them ' food convenient ' for them, nourishing
them, not with strong meat, bat with the ' sincere milk of the Word,'
that they may grow thereby ; making the best use of the natural
and gradual opening of their understandings : and we may ac-
knowledge, with thankfulness, that there is something in the human
mind which answers to the most simple and sacred truths : — the
mind of man seems formed to receive the idea of Him who gave it
being. A premature accuracy of religious knowledge is not to be
desired with children : but that the views of divine truth which
they receive, should be sound and scriptural, and so commu-
nicated as to touch the conscience." — Hints on Early Education,
pp. 151—153.

It need hardly be observed how important it is, with a view
to these objects, to abstain carefully from the practice, still too
prevalent, though much less so, we believe, than formerly, of com-
pelling, or encouraging, or even allowing children to learn by
rote forms of prayer, catechism, hymns, or in short any thing
connected with morality and religion, when they attach no mean-
ing to the words they utter. It is done on the plea that they
will hereafter learn the meaning of what they have been thus
taught, and will be able to make a practical use of it. But no
attempt at economy of time can be more injudicious. Let any
child whose capacity is so far matured as to enable him to com-
prehend an explanation, e.g. of the Lord's Prayer, have it then
put before him for the first time, and when he is made acquaint-
ed with the meaning of it, set to learn it by heart ; and can any
one doubt that in less than half a day's application he would be
able to repeat it fluently ? And the same would be the case with
other forms. All that is thus learned by rote by a child before
he is competent to attach a meaning to the words he utters, would
not, if all put together, amount to so much as would cost him

JUVENILE LIBRARY.

325

when able to understand it, a week's labour to learn perfectly.
Whereas it may cost the toil, often the vain toil, of many years,
to unlearn the habit of formalism — of repeating words by rote
without attending to their meaning ; a habit which every one
conversant with education knows to be in all subjects most rea-
dily acquired by children, and with difficulty avoided even with
the utmost care of the teacher ; but which such a plan must in-
evitably tend to generate. It is often said, and very truly, that
it is important to form early habits of piety ; but to train a child
in one kind of habit, is not the most likely way of forming the
opposite one : and nothing can be more contrary to true piety,
than the Popish superstition (for such in fact it is) of attaching
efficacy to the repetition of a certain form of words, as of a
charm, independent of the understanding and of the heart1.

It is also said, with equal truth, that we ought to take advan-
tage of the facility which children possess of learning words :
but to infer from thence, that Providence designs us to make
such a use (or rather abuse) of this gift, as we have been cen-
suring, is as if we were to take advantage of the readiness with

1 We have spoken with so much com-
mendation of the Hints on Early Edu-
cation, that we feel bound to notice in-
cidentally a point in which we think the
author, if not herself mistaken, is likely
to lead her readers into a mistake. —
"Public Worship — Silence, self sub-
jection, and a serious deportment, both
in family and public worship, ought to
be strictly enforced in early life ; and it
is better that children should not attend,
till they are capable o'' behaving in a
proper manner. But a practical respect
for the Sabbath and for services of reli-
gion, is but an effect of that reverence
for every thing sacred, which it is of pri-
mary importance early to establish as a
habit of mind." — pp 172,173. If '• re-
verence for things sacred " be the only
habit we wish to implant, the caution
here given is sufficient : but if we would
form in the child the much more impor-
tant habit of hearty devotion, as distin-
guished from superstitious formalism, we

should wait for his being not only " capa-
ble of behaving," with outward decorum,
but also of understanding and joining in
the service.

We would also deprecate, by the way,
the practice (which this writer seems to
countenance, though without any express
inculcation) of strictly prohibiting chil-
dren from indulging in their usual sports
on the Lord's day ; which has a manifest
tendency to associate with that festival,
idea3 of gloom and restraint, and also to
generate the too common notion that
God requires of us only one day in seven,
and that scrupulous privation on that
day will afford licence for the rest of the
week. We are speaking, be it observed,
of the christian festival of the Lord's
day ; those who think themselves bound
by the precepts of the Old Testament re-
lative to the Sabbath, should remember
that Saturday is the day to which tnose
precepts apply.

326 JUVENILE LIBRARY.

which a new-born babe swallows whatever is put into its mouth,
to dose it with ardent spirits, instead of wholesome food and ne-
cessary medicine. The readiness with which children learn and
remember words, is in truth a most important advantage if rightly
employed; viz., if applied to the acquiring that mass of what
may be called arbitrary knowledge of insulated facts, which can
only be learned by rote, and which is necessary in after-life;
when the acquisition of it would both be more troublesome, and
would encroach on time that might otherwise be better em-
ployed. Chronology, names of countries, weights and measures,
and indeed all the words of any language, are of this descrip-
tion. If a child had even ten times the ordinary degree of the
faculty in question, a judicious teacher would find abundance of
useful employment for it, without resorting to any that could
possibly be detrimental to his future habits, moral, religious, or
intellectual.

Among the cautions to be exercised in the choice of books
for children, there is one which is pressed upon our notice by
the character which pervades the works of one of the best
known, and in other respects most judicious writers in this de-
partment : we mean, to keep a watchful eye at least over those
which inculcate morality, with an exclusion of all reference
to religious principle. Such is obviously and notoriously the
character of Miss Edgeworth's moral tales. It is not merely that
they contain no lessons of piety, no distinct inculcation of reli-
gious doctrine ; but there is in them a complete, and, as it
should seem, studied avoidance of the whole subject.

The most amiable, nay, the most noble and generous charac-
ters are represented, — the most pure and virtuous actions are
narrated, — without the least allusion to religious principle as
having any thing to do with them. And so entire and resolute
is this exclusion, that it is maintained at the expense of what
may be called poetical truth : it destroys in many instances the
probability of the tale, and the naturalness of the characters.
We are not now occupied with the question whether Christianity
is true or false ; and certainly, we cannot in fairness call on any

JUVENILE LIBRARY. 327

one to inculcate and recommend any thing different from what
he himself believes1. But that Christianity does exist, every
one must believe as an incontrovertible truth ; nor can any one,
we conceive, deny, that, whether true or false, it does exercise, at
least is supposed to exercise, an influence on the feelings and con-
duct of some of the believers in it. Grant that our hopes of
salvation through Christ, are as chimerical as the notions of the
Hindoos ; still it would be possible and it is surely true, that
this hope may stimulate the Christian to exertion, and may con-
sole him under misfortunes. But let even this be denied ; let it
be said that the virtuous Christian would, from an innate sense
of propriety, have displayed equal rectitude and equal patience
if he had been an unbeliever ; still it must at least be admitted,
that he himself thinks otherwise ; — that he does pray for divine
guidance, and support under affliction ; and that he does, whe-
ther erroneously or not, attribute his own virtue and fortitude
to his christian faith.

To represent therefore persons of various ages, sex, country,
and station in life, as practising, on the most trying occasions,
every kind of duty, and encountering every kind of danger,
difficulty, and hardship, while no one of them ever makes the
least reference to a religious motive, is as decidedly at variance
with reality, — what is called in works of fiction, unnatural ; as
it would be to represent Mahomet's enthusiastic followers as
rushing into battle without any thought of his promised paradise.

Now if we were to imagine, e.g. a Chinese forming his ideas
of the English nation wholly from these tales, he would never
suppose that any such thing as the christian religion had ever

• Let it not be supposed that we mean
by this expression, to question the re-
ligious belief of the excellent writer

in a manner that might not offend a
great number of Christians, Miss E. pro-
bably did not perceive how easily the

whose works for children have suggested : great motives to virtue proclaimed in the
the present remarks. Miss Edgeworth's ! gospel, may be brought into full opera-

-.

omission of religious motives, however tion in a moral narrative, without any

contrary to our notions, we believe to 5 reference to the points of controversy

arise from a benevolent though misguided between the various denominations of

desire of enlarging her own sphere of ( Christians,
usefulness. Unable to touch on religion

328 JUVENILE LIBRARY.

even been heard of among us ; much less, had ever been thought
of as influencing the character, and as an essential part of educa-
tion. And he would be the better justified in drawing such a
conclusion, from the remarkable prominence given to the moral,
in every tale, and their instructive design being most anxiously
pointed out. Yet such a conclusion would be very far indeed
(though we would wish it were much farther still) from the
truth. This therefore is a blemish in point of art, which every
reader possessing taste must perceive, whatever may be his reli-
gious or non-religious persuasion.

Our present business however, is not with the question of
taste, but of practical utility. Tales of such a description as we
have been speaking of, should be placed in children's hands with
great caution. Many of them are too valuable in other respects
to be excluded. But besides the intermixture of tales exempt
from this defect, the youthful reader should also from time to
time, be himself warned of it ; and this, not by merely telling
him in general terms, that in such and such a story there is no
mention of religion, but by pointing out that the representation
of disinterested, systematic, thorough-going virtue, in such and
such an instance, is wanting in one point — the reference to chris-
tian motives, to render it natural ; that to realize such a picture,
it is absolutely necessary, if not for all, at least for the great body
of mankind, to resort to those principles which in the fiction are
unnoticed. It must be pointed out in short to the young reader,
that all these " things that are lovely and of good report " which
have been placed before him, are the genuine fruits of the Holy
Land, though the spies who have brought them, bring also an evil
report of that land, and would persuade us to remain wandering
in the wilderness.

The particular fault, however, which we have been noticing, is
not of course the only one of the same class, that is to be guarded
against. Every system and every subdivision of opinion respect-
ing points of religion and morals, has its advocates and its oppo-
nents among the list of nursery authors. All cannot of course
be in the right ; but all have a right to present to the world the

JUVENILE LIBRARY. 329

result of their own sincere conviction ; leaving each parent to
decide what he shall receive, and what reject. We have nothing
to do at present with the question how far in any case the hold-
ing of erroneous principles is deserving of censure ; but none
certainly is due to the promulgation of those which any one does
honestly hold.

It is however a censurable, though not a very uncommon
practice, to insert in children's books statements, and reasons,
and descriptions, which, it must be supposed, the writers of
them know to be untrue. In this respect we fear the works put
into children's hands too much correspond with the language
they hear from parents and nurses. To evade disagreeable
questions, — to satisfy a child's doubting mind, — to induce him
to do what we wish, — or even to save trouble to his instructor,
— falsehood is commonly resorted to without scruple ; and yet
wonder and displeasure are expressed if the child grow up un-
scrupulous himself in the use of tricks and false pretences ; and
if he regard with suspicion those who have thus abused his con-
fidence. As reasonably might one expect cleanly habits from
one who had been reared in a sty with swine, as a frank, open,
unsuspicious love of truth from him who has been made in
childhood first the dupe, and afterwards the imitator, of false-
hood. So far is it from being true, that a lie to children is
allowable or insignificant, that no deceit (relative to matters in
themselves of small moment) practised on adults, can be near
so mischievous, or consequently so criminal.

But on this point we cannot do better than support our views
by an appeal to a writer of as high authority on the subject, as
experience and good sense can confer : —

" Let all who are engaged in the care of children consider it a
duty of primary, of essential importance, never to deceive them,
never to employ cunning to gain their ends, or to spare present
trouble. Let them not, for instance, to prevent a fit of crying,
excite expectation of a pleasure which they are not certain can be
procured ; or assure a child that the medicine he must take is nice,
when they know to the contrary. If a question be asked them,

330 JUVENILE LIBKARY.

which they are unwilling or unable to answer, let them freely con-
fess it, and beware of assuming power or knowledge which they do
not possess : for all artifice is not only sinful, but is generally
detected, even by children : and we shall experience the truth of
the old proverb, ' a cunning trick helps but once, and hinders ever
after.' No one who is not experimentally acquainted with children,
would conceive how clearly they distinguish between truth and
artifice ; or how readily they adopt those equivocal expedients in
their own behalf, which, they perceive, are practised against them."
— Hints on Early Education.

How far however the writer may in any case be chargeable
with wilful deceit, it is not easy positively to determine, nor is
it practically needful ; it is the teacher's business to clear his
own conscience, {Iter's perhaps we should rather say,) and to pro-
tect the purity of the youthful mind from all risk of the con-
tamination of deceit, by pointing out and protesting against
every thing of the kind, even in matters the most trivial. Take
an instance from Mrs. Trimmer's Easy Introduction to the
Knowledge of Nature, p. 70, 17th edition. We prefer select-
ing examples from books in the highest repute. " It grieves me
to be obliged to kill any of the poor chickens ; but as I told you
in respect to the sheep and oxen, were we to suffer them all to
live, they would die of hunger, and cause us to do so too, for
they would eat up all the wheat and barley, and we should have
neither bread nor meat for our use."

This does well enough, it may be said, to satisfy a child.
True : but he is satisfied only for a very short time : it sooner
or later occurs to him, that no danger of being overstocked with
horses, compels us to feed on their flesh ; and on the other hand,
that sheep and poultry are reared on purpose to be killed and
eaten. The same detection awaits the other reason with which
children are sometimes deceived, on the same point, viz. that the
flesh of animals is necessary for our sustenance ; the child, per-
haps, at the very same time is reading accounts of nations sub-
sisting almost entirely on rice, maize, &c. which, together with
his own observation of those of our peasantry, whose diet is
almost exclusively bread and potatoes, soon undeceive him ; and

JUVENILE LIBRARY. 331

when the imposition has been detected, the author of it is liable
to the proverbial penalty of not being believed even when he
speaks truth.

But of all frauds, incomparably the most pernicious are
pious frauds. We select an instance from the Footstep to Mrs.
Trimmer' 's Sacred History : — •

" On the seventh day God rested from his work, and blessed all
that He had made. Thus we keep every seventh day holy to the
Lord, in which we do no work ; to remind us of God's mercy, in
creating all things for o\ir use in six days."

No doubt the author had the pious intention of inculcating in
the easiest and readiest way a due reverence for the Lord's Day ;
trusting that the child will not, for the present, find out that
Saturday is the seventh day, and that the day on which we " go
to church," &c. is commemorative of the Lord's resurrection on
the day after the sabbath.

A little book, entitled Spring Blossoms, which contains seve-
ral stories and dialogues, which would be not ill- calculated for
children of six or eight years old, were it not too full of fine
language, contains two accounts of divine judgments, (for such,
they are represented,) one, the sudden death of a naughty boy,
who took a bird's nest, (p. 38,) the other the loss of an eye by a
fish-hook, as a judgment for angling, (p. 147.) It is true, that
such accidents may occur ; but it is not true that they are judg-
ments ; or that a boy is more likely to break his neck in climb-
ing a tree, to take a bird's eggs, than if it had been with the
humane desire of restoring them ; nor is it true, in short, that
temporal judgments form the sanction of the christian religion.
And all this, children will soon find out ; they will soon discover
that many naughty boys do not break their necks ; and that an
heroic zeal to rescue a fellow -creature, does not always secure a
man from being drowned in the attempt ; and when such false
grounds of a trust in Providence have been removed, if it be
afterwards rebuilt on a truer foundation, small thanks are due
to the deceitful instructor ; for how is the child to know that he

332 JUVENILE LIBRARY.

has not been deceived all through in what he has been told about
religion ? And who will undertake to say, that no part of the
scepticism and irreligion that exist in the world, can be traced
to the early association thus formed between religion and impos-
ture ? In the long run, it will always be found that honesty is
the best policy.

These, however, and many other blemishes of less importance,
whether arising from the ignorance and misconception, or the
prejudices or indiscretion of the writers, are to be found in many
books, too useful on the whole, to be on such grounds rejected
by instructors. They are only recommended carefully to look
over whatever is put into their pupils' hands, and to correct the
faults either with the scissors, the pen, or an oral explanation.
In some cases, this last may lead to profitable discussions with
the child : in others, to such as would be unnecessarily perplex-
ing and unsatisfactory ; which had therefore better be avoided
by erasing a passage, or destroying a leaf.

We cannot dismiss the subject without bearing testimony to
the excellence of all Mrs. Hack's publications that we have met
with ; their simplicity and good sense, and the skill with which
they are adapted to convey, in a pleasing manner, the most
valuable instructions to children of the various ages for which
they are respectively designed. Some of them indeed, particu-
larly her Evidences, though not above the comprehension of a
child of twelve years old, may be perused with advantage by
almost any one. Mrs. Sherwood and Mrs. Cameron are among
the most copious and most attractive contributors to the Juvenile
Library; and their tales, though not exempt from occasional
blemishes, are, for the most part, as instructive as they are in-
teresting to their young readers.

We also feel bound to add a word of praise to the elementary
works of the Rev. I. Taylor, as combining amusement with a
great mass of useful information. We wish, however, that in
his interesting account of British manufactures he had abstained
from instilling into the minds of children some very questionable

JUVENILE LIBRARY.

333

notions connected with political economy1. We would inculcate
it as a most important maxim in every branch of instruction, not
to assert any thing as unquestionably true, on which there are
strong grounds for doubt.

The little book last mentioned at the head of this Article,
though the most unassuming in the whole circle of the Juvenile
Library, should not be left unnoticed. It contains the facts
which are the origin and foundation of the christian faith, so
simply stated, that a child seven or eight years old, cannot fail
to understand them ; so affectingly told, that a grown person, in
whose bosom that faith is not quite extinguished, will not read
them without emotion.

1 " A very costly manufacture of lace
once flourished at Honiton in Devon-
shire ; but laces of that expensive sort
are not so much worn now as formerly ;
but it is to be regretted ; as ladies who
have plenty of money are supporting in-
dustrious manufacturers when they spend
some of it in this way."— .Scene* of Bri-
tish Wealth, p. 27. " A Mechlin head-
dress, our grandmothers used to say,
though it cost twenty guineas, would last

a lady her whole life. The fashion is not
now for what will last a lady her life,
she better likes to have something new
every year, or even two or three times
every season " lb. p. 28 Young people
who read these two sentences, must be at
a loss whether the present ladies or their
grandmothers are most entitled to praise
for the application of their money to the
support of industrious manufacturers.

INDEX.

PAGE

Abstraction, use of 67

Advocate, profession of 17, 21

American Indians, anecdote of 54

Aristotle, his Morals 101

Arnold, Dr., bis Sermons 317

Assar, tribe of ... . 180

Balaam 191

Bantam, King of 209

Barbarians 33

Barrister, profession of 20

Baxter, reviewer of 53

Beagle, voyage of the 34

Berkeley 37

Birkbeck,Mr 212

British Critic 118

Bridgeman, Laura 70

Buonaparte, history of 92

Butler, Bp 6, 21

Cadmus 85

Calvin 109

Cameron, Mrs 332

Canaan, land of 178

Caprice, attributed to the Deity 105

Cat, sagacity of 64

Catlin, Mr 48

Ceremonies 153

Changes, love of 160

Children, Egyptian 129, 133

Cholera in Poland 207

Chosen, the 195

Chronicles, Book of 180, 203

Clerical profession 5

Committee on Transportation 268

Common-sense 209

Conversion Ill

INDEX. 335

PAGE

Copernican System 203

Copleston, Bp 4, 144

Copts 134

Corn-dealer 19, 79

Correction 250

Counsel, licence of 22

Cowley 149

Creation, vestiges of 41

Custom 173

Darwin, Mr 34, 58

Deaf-mutes 69

Death-led 15

Defoe 38

Deuteronomy 185

Development, theory of 47

Division of labour 33

Docility, proves Reason 63

Dog, sagacity of 63

Dream, supposable 140

Duty, notion of 102

Edinburgh 199

— Review 48

Edgeivorth, Miss 326

Education 173

Elect, the 195

Emigration, for whom suitable 239

Ephraim, tribe of 180

Essay, ancient meaning of 151

Evidences of Christianity 50

Evidences, study of 112

Evil Eye 131

Experience 209

Ezekiel 181

Familiarity, dangers of 319

Fatalism 135

Fellahin 120

Female writers 301

Fig-tree, barren 7

Fools, diverse characters of 295

Fuegians 27

Genesis, Book of 41

Germans, ancient 33

336 INDEX.

PAGE

German metaphysics 145

Gibbon, infidelity of . 55

Gipsies 190

Government, British 138

Graves's Lectures ...»'.'» i . . . 91

Grey, Governor 35

Hack, Mrs 332

Hale, Sir Matt 22

Hannibal 1

Harvey 159

History 283

Hobbes 106

Horse, rashness of . 163

Humboldt » . . . . 43

Hume, on miracles » 118

Improbable 285

Innovations 155

Ireland, attempted division of, from England . 199

Israel, restoration of 194

James, Apostle 193

Jesus of Nazareth, the most remarkable person 179

Judge, office of 21

Kent, insurgents in 207

King, Archbishop 97

Koran, the standard of Arabic 103

Lamarck 47

Language, uses of 69

Lardner . 91

Latin version of Scripture 157

Laura Bridgeman 70

Legal profession 16

Licence of Counsel 22

Love 310

Mahometans, appeal to the style of the Koran 103

Maize, cultivated in Canada 213

Manchester 199

Mancocapac 35

Mandan Indians 48

Maories 35

Marriage of Savages 31

INDEX. 387

PAGE

Martinus Scriblerus, his shield 145

Materialism 14

Medical profession 11

Memory, abuse of 324

Messiah 185

Microscope ' 87

Misselto, Bacon's theory of 150

Money, love of 29

Moral-attributes of the Deity 103

Mormoniles 56

Moses 185

Moth, rashness of 163

Muddy-water, mistaken for deep 145

Myriads of believing Jews 189

National Schools 205

Nature, state of 30

Natural Theology 93

New- Hollanders 31, 37

New Zealand 38

Niebhur 43

Nile , 125

Nobility 152

Nominalism 73

North, Sir Dudley 23

Pagan Religions 110

Papuans 27

Party 175

Peat-boys 279

Peruvians 35

Pious Frauds 9

Plantations 169

Plaster of Paris 217

Pleader, profession of 17

Poetry 283

Poisoning, Egyptian 130

Poland 207

Political Economy 209

Population 107

Praise 170

Prevention of crime 250

Prometheus 35

Promises, mistake of Paley respecting . . . 106

Prophecy, divine, test of 183

Punishments . 250, 255

Z

338 INDEX.

PAGE

Realism 72

Reasoning 17

— peculiar to Man 73

Restoration, temporal, of Israel 194

Retribution 250

Rhetoric, elements of 25

Robinson Crusoe 28

Rousseau, theory of 27

Roussel, his theory 102

Royal Families, in Egypt 129

Sabbath 108,325,331

Sandford and Merton 148

Savages, character of 27

Scripture History 42

Seditions 165

Sermons, Paley's 109

Sherwood, Mrs 332

Signs, general use of 66

Slavery 272

Smith's Voyage of St. Paul 91

— President 44

— Adam 253

Socialism 2U6

Society, Natural History of 32

St. Lawrence, River 225

Style, change of 157

Sumptuary Laws 167

Tacitus 33, 209

Tameness, of Animals 83

Tattooing of Savages 31

Taylor, Mr , 332

— Dr. Cooke 32

Time, effects attributed to 59

Timidity, alleged, of those who appeal to evidence 53

Tribes, the ten 193

— the twelve 193

Trimmer, Mrs 330

Tucker, Paley's guide 106

Turks 120

United States, American 212

Unity, religious 169

Unnatural 285

Usury 167

INDEX. 339

PAGE

Vestiges of creation 41

Virtue, distinguished from prudence 99

Voluntary System 10

War . 165

Westminster Eeview 45, 203

Wildness of animals 83

Women, kidnapping of 275

Work, how to be used as a punishment 279

Zechariah 192

Zingaries 190

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