Obrazy na stronie
PDF
ePub

IMPORTANCE OF THE SEASON OF YOUTH. The value of time and of youth, and the bitter fruits that result from mis-spending them, are truths so simple and obvious, that we fear, like the great tree in St Paul's Churchyard, about the existence of which so many wagers have been lost and won, they are sometimes in danger of being overlooked from their very familiarity. It would be easy, indeed, to invest these topics with a gloomy interest, by proving that the evils resulting from the lost opportunities of youth more or less cling to a man throughout his existence; and that they must be, from their nature, greater in reality than they can be to the eye of common observation. For men do their best to disguise the punishment of a neglected education; or rather, to speak more truly, the punishment disguises them. It hurries them away from our sight to be immolated in secret by mortification-to die in the shade of neglect, and to be buried in the shroud of oblivion. But it is not by appealing to the ignoble principle of fear that we should teach the youthful bosom the value of its golden opportunities. A feeling still more honourable than even anxiety for reputation-namely, the desire of knowledge for its own sake-must enter into the motives of every man who successfully devotes himself to mental improvement; for learning is a proud mistress, that will not be courted for our hopes of worldly profit by her dowry, nor for our ambition to be allied to her family, nor for the pride of showing her in public, without the passion and devotion which we must bear to her sacred self.-Thomas Campbell. THE GRAVE OF FRIENDS.

The grave of those we loved-what a place for meditation! There it is that we call up in long review the whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the thousand endearments lavished upon us, almost unheeded, in the daily intercourse of intimacy-there it is that we dwell upon the tenderness, the solemn, awful tenderness of the parting scene: the bed of death, with all its stifled griefs, its noiseless attendance, its mute, watchful assiduities; the last testimonies of expiring love: the feeble, fluttering, thrilling-oh, how thrilling!-pressure of the hand; the last fond look of the glazing eye, turning upon us even from the threshold of existence; the faint, faltering accents, struggling in death to give one more assurance of affection. Ay! go the grave of buried love, and meditate. There settle the account with thy conscience for every past benefit unrequited, every past endearment unregarded, of that departed being, who can never, never return to be soothed by thy contrition. If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affectionate parent -if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms, to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth-if thou art a friend, and hast ever wronged, in thought, or word, or deed, the spirit that generously confided in thee-if thou art a lover, and hast ever given one unmerited pang to that true heart which now lies cold and still beneath thy feet-then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy soul-then be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing tear; more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing.-Washington Irving.

WISDOM OF FAITH.

Does not every architect complain of the injustice of criticising a building before it is half finished? Yet who can tell what volume of the creation we are in at present, or what point the structure of our moral fabric has attained? Whilst we are all in a vessel that is sailing under sealed orders, we shall do well to confide implicitly in our government and captain.

MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS.

There be four good mothers have four bad daughters: Truth hath hatred; prosperity hath pride; security hath peril; and familiarity hath contempt.

[ocr errors]

SELFISHNESS.

Selfishness is the universal form of human depravity; every sin that can be named is only a modification of it. What is avarice but selfishness grasping and hoarding? What is prodigality but selfishness decorating and indulging itself-a man sacrificing to himself as his own god? What is sloth but that god asleep and refusing to attend to the calls of duty? And what is idolatry but that god enshrined-war worshipping the reflection of his own image? Sensuality, and, indeed, all the sins of the flesh, are only selfishness setting itself above law, and gratifying itself at the expense of all restraint. And all the sins of the spirit are only the same principle impatient of contradiction, and refusing to acknowledge superiority, or to bend to any will but its own. What is egotism, but selfishness speaking? Or crime, but selfishness without its mask, in carnest and acting? Or offensive war, but selfishness confederated, armed, and bent on aggrandizing itself by violence and blood? An offensive army is the selfishness of a nation embodied, and moving to the attainment of its object over the wrecks of human happiness and life.-Dr Harris.

LOVE'S NECESSITY.
CESAR AUT NULLUS.

Two things doth man with earnest instinct crave.
His portion, weakling, while he pilgrims here-
To be most dear to ONE, and ONE to have
To him most dear.

Doth not love's aliment, the nursling lost,
But load the bosom whence it fain would flow?
And what shall soothe, his baby yearnings crust,
The nursling's woe?

Even so with love, that turns to gall if pent,

The breast of man hath God his Father stored;
And one it seeks on whom may well be spent
The holy hoard.

Even so it claims a love pure, passionate, free,
And, losing that, all short of it will spurn;
Loving one best, it best beloved must be
By one in turn.

Thou liest, Ambition! Thine is vulgar bliss:
Boaster, thou'lt stoop in any sphere to shine!
'Cæsar or nobody! such speech as this
Is Love's, not thine.

He brooks no rival, no divided will;
His clime the Torrid or the Arctic zone,
No parley holds he, nor will deign to fill
A dubious throne.

Jealous as generous in his beings' good,
Man would be both th' adored and devotee;
His human heart an idol seeks, he would
An idol be.

Such are the terms on which the heart will trust;
That needle never points but to the pole-
And, giving all its tenderness, it must
Get back the whole.

Happy, if his own bliss he knew, who may

On one bright soul unchecked affection shed,
Who, from his heart of hearts, can dearest say,
And hear it said.

Sad is his lot whose love no resting-space
Hath found; and sadder his whose love hath won
In some few hearts perchance the second place,
THE FIRST IN NONE.

IMPRUDENCE.

Those who, in consequence of superior capacities and attainments, disregard the common maxims of life, ought to be reminded that nothing will supply the want of prudence, and that negligence and irregularity, long continued, will make knowledge useless, wit ridiculous, and genius contemptible.-Doctor Johnson.

FIRST AND LAST THOUGHTS.

In matters of conscience, first thoughts are best; in matters of prudence, last thoughts are best.

Printed and published by JAMES HOGG, 122 Nicolson Street, Edinburgh; to whom all communications are to be addressed. Sold also by J. JOHNSTONE, Edinburgh; J. M'LEOD, Glasgow; W. M'COMB, Belfast; R. GROOMBRIDGE & Sons, London; and all Booksellers.

[graphic]

No. 4.

EDINBURGH, SATURDAY, MARCH 22, 1845.

CHAPTERS ON THE VIRTUES.

COURTESY.

We do not hesitate to claim for courtesy, as Doctor Johnson did for cleanliness, a place among the virtues. It is a virtue, and one which greatly promotes the comfort and happiness of mankind. It is the sugar in the cup of life-the sweetener of domestic and social existence. The very name of this grace is so associated with the stiff, frigid, and, in some instances, ludicrous forms of etiquette, that we are apt to overlook its worth, and to have inadequate ideas of its importance. These forms, unless they be all the more extravagant, are by no means to be neglected; but it should not be forgotten that they are often punetiliously observed by persons who do not know what real politeness is-in whose minds the sentiments that create true courtesy have no place.

To be courteous in the best sense, we, must have an humble estimate of ourselves and our attainments. Excessive vanity and true politeness will not be found together. When you meet with a person who is on the very best terms with himself, and has a most extravagant idea of his own importance, you need not expect to receive very courteous or respectful treatment from him. It can scarcely have escaped the notice of the least observing, that the artificial manners current in society are constructed in deference to the sentiment of humility. The tendency of pride,' says one of the greatest and best of men, to produce strife and hatred, is sufficiently apparent from the pains men have been at to construct a system of politeness, which is nothing more than a sort of mimic humility, in which the sentiments of an offensive self-estimation are so far disguised and suppressed as to make them compatible with the spirit of society; such a mode of behaviour as would naturally result from an attention to the apostolic injunction, Let nothing be done through strife or vain glory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves.' And if even the hollow forms of this virtue be so important that we cannot dispense with them, how much more valuable must the reality be; if the painting be both useful and pleasing, how excellent and charming the original! Humility, then, it should be kept in mind, is essential to genuine courtesy. The really humble individual will not usurp a place to which he has no claim. He will be content with his own share, or rather less, in conversation. Even when conscious of being in the right, he will not express his convictions in that rude and boisterous tone, which creates disgust both at the speaker and what he says; he will not state his views as if they

PRICE 1d.

were so many self-evident axioms, reminding wise and sensible listeners of the taunt of a venerable scripture worthy, 'No doubt but ye are the people, and wisdom shall die with you.' He will beware of exalting himself above others; of hinting even indirectly their inferiority to him. He will not take the faults and misfortunes of others as incense to his own vanity-a practice which, though common, is mean and despicable. It is easy to see how an humble opinion of one's self will thus promote genuine politeness.

Affectionateness is another of its essential prerequisites. To be pleasingly well-bred, we must have a regard for those with whom we mingle; for its absence no artificial deference will compensate. The great desire of every person when he goes into society, should be to contribute as largely as possible to the general fund of happiness-to impart as well as receive pleasure. Good will towards all with whom we feel it right to associate, must shine through the countenance, flow from the tongue, be conveyed in the cordial grasp of the hand; and in a thousand ways, easier felt than described, be made apparent. Why should we blush to confess that we have a kindly feeling towards our fellow-creatures? Why seek to hide the sympathies that are so honourable to us? Why not circulate as widely as we can, those feelings of brotherhood which are of such advantage to our race? There are some, indeed, who have so degraded themselves that they may be thought hardly entitled to affection. But even when called to mix with such persons, we should remember that kindness has a killing power, and that the best way to make a man respect himself, is to show that others still would fain respect him, would he but act so as to enable them to do so. Affectionateness is indispensable to that kind of politeness which a man with a heart relishes. There is no mistaking cold artificial manners for the genuine courtesy of the heart. Persons with the gloomy and scowling look-the harsh, querulous, and domineering tone-on whose brows you can trace the clouds of the quarrel that was just hushed up as you crossed their threshold, never can be courteous in the best sense of that term. There is no good society, no circle worth spending an hour in, where love is not a guest. Her presence is indispensable to the 'feast of reason and the flow of soul.'

A scrupulous and delicate regard to the feelings of others, is also an essential ingredient in the character of a well-bred person. The most guarded, indeed, may occasionally trespass through ignorance or inattention, but they who do so designedly violate the first law of correct manners, which is to make all around us feel as easy and cheerful as possible. There are some persons

PETRA, THE LONG LOST CAPITAL
OF EDOM.

By the Rev. J. A. WYLIE, Author of the 'Modern Judea,' &c.

so sensitive and touchy on almost every topic, whose better that they be accomplished in manners too. It is sensitiveness, too, arises from their overweening self-con- a vulgar error that a man will scarcely be a genius and ceit, that one can scarcely be expected so to shape his at the same time a gentleman. speech as not to give them offence; while there are those who have so little regard for the feelings of others, that we almost feel it a duty, when an opportunity occurs, to lend them a pretty hard blow in return. We quite agree with the sentiment of one of the greatest of our moralists — They who cannot take a jest, ought not to make one. These exceptions apart, however, there is such a thing as wantonly tampering with the feelings of those with whom we mingle, which is one of the grossest outrages upon good breeding. If the gentle Cowper was right when he said that he would not enter upon the list of his friends, the man who would heedlessly set foot upon a worm, what are we to say of those who intentionally would crush or wound that sensitive, and sprightly, and loving thing, the human heart? They should be sent to herd alone. They are the kind of natures whom one would be glad to see betake themselves to the cloister or the cave; they are among the nuisances of the social circle, the banes of domestic life. Higher motives apart, self-love should prevent such conduct. Who is altogether invulnerable? Is not that individual singularly fortunate-the rare exception-who has nothing in his personal appearance, habits, profession, past history, present condition, family connexions, and the like, fitted, when an uncourteous and unfeeling allusion is made to it, to stir a sigh or kindle a blush? And every man is aware when such allusions in his own case would be felt cruel, and he should not forget to act towards his neighbour on the golden maxim, 'Do as you would be done to.'

A prying and inquisitive disposition, too, is incompatible with true politeness. Impertinent curiosity is one of the chief banes of social intercourse. It is easy to see how it becomes so. You put a question respecting circumstances which you have no right to know anything about, and which common sense might tell you the party you interrogate is not willing to disclose. The latter must either equivocate, or directly falsify, or, much to the annoyance of his own feelings, state distinctly that the question is one you have no right to put, and which, therefore, he does not mean to answer. So that if to preserve tranquillity of mind, to impart as well as receive pleasure, be the object of good manners, every Paul Pry in the social circle must be a very offensive person indeed. We should keep a 'sharp look out' on those whose conversation is chiefly in the question form. True courtesy has other elements on which we do not enlarge at present. There is, for example, purity of conversation that purity which teaches us to shun not merely open obscenity, but which is often as dangerouscovert insinuation. Then there is the propriety of feeling as much at ease as may be consistent with due respect to others. 'Ease,' Lord Chesterfield says, 'is the standard of politeness.' We must be courteous to those beneath our own roof, would we practise this virtue with grace in society. We may rest assured that politeness is a grace of no mean order. Some may affect to contemn it: it says the less for their sense, their taste, their virtue. That man has need of far more merit than falls to the share of ordinary mortals, who dares to act in contravention of the established forms and usages of society; and even the most accomplished in mind will be all the

Or the many great discoveries by which the early part of the present century was distinguished, not the least important was that of Petra, the long lost capital of the Edomites. Not only did this discovery enlarge and enrich geographical science, it added, moreover, another and a most important fact to the stores of our biblical literature. On the pages of the Bible it shed a new light and a new interest. The unerring precision with which those prophecies which relate to the land of Edom had pointed out the future state of its capital, now began to be understood, though before we had been able only to guess at the meaning of these predictions, and were not prepared to verify, at least in every particular, their accomplishment. Petra, the capital of Edom, after being lost for ages, was discovered by Burckhardt in 1812. Every thing which relates to the manner in which this discovery was brought about is interesting; but, before we can judge of its importance, and the service it has rendered to revelation, we must advert for a little to the early history of the city to which it relates.

A dark chain of mountains, whose singularly ragged and broken outline presents to the eye many a romantic peak, stretches between the southern extremity of the Dead Sea and the head of the eastern arm of the Red Sea. Here, in ancient times, dwelt the posterity of Esau. In the very heart of these mountains, occupying a little plain of less than two miles circumference, stood the capital city of the people to whom this region be- | longed. A few holes hewn in the crags which environed the little plain all around, formed the rude beginnings of this city. Some of these caves were placed so high on the mountain's face, that the early Edomite, whose dwelling they formed, looked forth, like the eagle in his eyry, upon the little plain beneath, and the mountains summits beyond, glowing, it might be, in the light of the morning sun, or tinged, perhaps, with his setting rays. By and by, as their knowledge of art increased, and as their wealth enabled and prompted them to carry that knowledge into effect, the inhabitants began to embellish the entrances of their rocky dwellings by such ornaments as it belongs to the chisel to create. most beautiful façades began to cover the bottom of the mountains, not built, but hewn in the rock; while pillars, arches, temples, and elegant and luxurious dwellings, rose on the little plain, and entirely covered its surface.

The

Shut in from all the world by a rampart of rocky mountains, beyond which, on the west, lay a sandy desert extending to the Nile, and on the east, a vast plain by no means distinguished for its fertility, one would have thought that Petra would have been rarely visited-that it would have been one of the most secluded cities in the world, and little known. Just the opposite of this was the fact. There was scarce a city of its time of which it could be said that it was a more frequent, or a more general resort. This city amid the hills of Edom

(Petra) was, for a long period, the centre of the commerce of the world. All the riches of the East-the myrrh and the frankincense of Arabia, the pearls and the rich stuffs of India-passed through her on their way to the climes of the West. There was not a country on the Mediterranean shore, from Egypt on the one side to Greece and Italy on the other, which did not look to this city amid the mountains of Seir for what its people needed, in addition to what its soil produced. Petra, moreover, was the abode of royalty, as well as the centre of a rich and extensive trade. She had sovereigns of her own; and her people-brave in war, as well as skilful in commerce-retained their independence, when the rest of the nations bowed to the yoke of the great monarchies which successively arose in the world. Nature had encompassed her with impregnable defences; her walls were the everlasting hills; and from the bottom of her mountains she saw the armies of Rome, which had over-run the world, turn back. Such was the eminence to which, from small beginnings, this city rose. Not only did she challenge the admiration of the world by the singular beauty and extraordinary character of her architecture; she was the resort of strangers from every region of the earth; and the command she exercised over the vast trade of which she was the channel, gave her great influence over the surrounding nations. But now the sun of commercial prosperity, which had long shone upon Petra, began to decline-its last and setting beams were now gilding her mountain-tops. To the twilight succeeded the night; and, during the darkness of that night, the splendours of her day were forgotten. She passed as completely from the knowledge of the world as if she had never existed. The darkness lasted for ages; but when at length the night came to an end, which it did in the year we have already indicated (1812), Petra reappeared on the earth. Like a ghost summoned from the tomb, and standing on the same site where it had lived in splendour and revelled in delights, so Petra rose again amid her hoary mountains-appeared in all the sorrow and sadness of the grave, on the same site where she had glorified herself and lived deliciously, being summoned from her tomb by the voice of providence; and for what purpose? How astonishing! To bear testimony to that Word, which, during her lifetime, she had denied and opposed!

There is thus an interest attaching to Petra which can scarce be said to belong to any other city that ever existed on the earth. The high antiquity to which it can lay claim for it goes back to the days of Esau, or very nearly so-its extraordinary and romantic site-the singular character of its structures; many of its temples and palaces being literally hewn in the rock of the mountains amid which it stood-the incidental allusions made to it by the inspired writers, who speak of it under the name of Selah, the city of the rocks-the notices respecting it which occur in the pages of heathen authors-in those of Pliny among the Romans, and in those of Strabo among the Greeks, impart to it a peculiar charm. The lastmentioned writer especially has given a little picture of its appearance and position, the fidelity of which it was reserved for our own age to verify: he speaks of the little plain on which it stood-of the peaks which bristled all round it-of the fountains with which this rock-girt capital was refreshed-of the gardens and clumps of olives which occupied the clefts of the mountains, and which tended somewhat to soften and beautify their hard naked sides. But what tended more than anything else to invest this city with an interest of an unusual kind, was the stern denunciation recorded against it in the volume of prophecy. While Petra was fast rising to the eminence she was destined to attain, and while she had yet before her many centuries of prosperity, her doom was foreshown by the prophets of Israel. They spoke of a day when she should be brought down from the clefts of the rock where she dwelt; when her site, the resort of strangers from every land, should be visited no more; and when her narrow confine, then scarce able

to contain the multitudes that occupied it, should be tenanted only by owls.

This terrible denunciation stood on the inspired page, but the city which was the subject of it passed away from the earth. It appeared strange that the same providence which had recorded against Petra a prophecy so minute as well as so sublime, should not have preserved some memorials of the city's former existence, in order that the exact fulfilment of the prediction might be verified. Many began to doubt whether such a city had ever existed; for now it had been totally unknown for upwards of a thousand years. Where are the proofs,' the infidel might ask, 'that there ever was such a city as that against which this prophecy is pointed-a city dwelling amid the clefts of the rocks—a city from which men of all nations passed out and returned? or where are the proofs that its predicted doom has been accomplished? The only answer we were able to give was of too general a nature to be perfectly satisfactory, and much too general to silence the gainsayer. The hour had not yet come when the vail which hung above the prediction was to be rent-when Petra was to rise from the dead. But that hour came at last. Drawn by the thirst of discovery, the traveller directed his steps to the dark mountains which stretch away to the south from the extremity of the Dead Sea, and where it was known the ancient Edomites had dwelt. The first European who had visited this country in modern times, he struck into the heart of the mountains, undismayed by the perils which attended such a journey. Providence smiled upon the undertaking, seeing He had higher purposes to serve than any of which the traveller was conscious. The results of this visit, fraught as it was with consequences of the highest importance to revelation as well as science, we shall give in a future number.

THE ADVANTAGES DERIVED FROM THE STUDY OF MENTAL PHILOSOPHY.* THE observation is equally trite and true, that men, in entering either on a course of study or of commercial enterprise, need to be incited to its efficient prosecution by a display of those advantages which may be expected to flow from it. In the principle here assumed, it is clearly implied that the amount of activity expended on the object will be regulated by the convictions of the agent in reference to its influence on his happiness. On the steadiness and zeal, again, with which our aim is followed out, success, in the large majority of instances, is chiefly dependent. If this hold true generally, and if, as we are disposed to think, it holds eminently true of literary and philosophical pursuits, it follows that a patient and serious estimate of the benefits resulting from any study we mean to prosecute is dictated both by duty and interest.

Of all the sciences, Metaphysics perhaps stands most in need of that excitement which the investigation now alluded to is calculated to afford, in order to attract and to animate its students. The subjects of which it treats are in the highest degree abstract and intangible. The cold and haughty goddess, realising the fable of Juno and Ixion, often melts into a cloud in the embraces of her votaries. The difficulty necessarily attaching to the apprehension and treatment of topics so abstruse must needs operate as a discouragement from the study. A very accurate and clear perception, indeed, of the advantages which may reasonably be expected to accrue from it is required to make us prosecute with ardour an inquiry whose subjects are frequently eluding our grasp. Besides, the advantages of mental science are not of that palpable class which even the dull and the unreflecting cannot fail to perceive and appreciate.

*We give the following as introductory to a series of papers, which will appear at intervals, on metaphysical subjects. We believe a few to whom they will be especially welcome and interesting. that while these may prove useful to all our readers, there are not

Its utility is not apparent at once; its discernment is the fruit and reward of patient and severe thought. In this respect it differs widely from physical philosophy. The bearing of the latter on our comfort and convenience, and especially on the interests of those who study it professionally, is too direct and immediate to escape the notice of even the most superficial observer. It cannot be doubted that physical science owes its rapid progress to its intimate alliance with the arts of life. The prevailing distaste for the theoretical, has, in this instance, readily yielded to the urgent and acknowledged need of the practical bound up in it. The shell has been broken to extricate the kernel-the mine cleared to reach the ore. It is on this principle we must explain the fact, that the science of body, if we may so call it, has numbered more votaries and earned more triumphs, within its own range, than the science of mind. If the heavens have been, from the earliest ages, so diligently explored, it has been because navigation was so dependent on astronomy. If the structure and properties of bodies are so accurately known, it is because the love of life and health has prompted the study of anatomy and chemistry. If the various forces of nature have been so curiously determined, it has been because the prosecution of trade and commerce, whence result all the conveniences and elegancies of life, made imperative an acquaintance with the principles of mechanics. Had the philosophy of mind been similarly recommended, our knowledge of it would have been, we may believe, proportionally advanced. But it had no claims equally weighty in the vulgar estimation with those of the other sciences; and the few faint pleadings it ventured to proffer were drowned in the clamour of its sturdy competitors. Assuredly it is not on account of any intrinsic inferiority that mental is less popular than natural philosophy. A statement the reverse of this would be far nearer the truth. Its superior dignity and refinement is the explanation of its neglect. Mental science is indeed in its infancy, while physical has risen to manhood; but the infant is of a higher order of being than the adult. Nature is indeed a vast and gorgeous temple, but its holy of holies is the human mind; and while we trace in external creation-and trace with wonder, reverence, and delight-the evidences of his beneficence, his wisdom, and his power, it is in that august and mysterious adytum that there is opened to our view the type and image of the Deity.

The causes, then, of the preference we have noticed are to be sought in dispositions and views of interest which cling to us tenaciously in our present state. Our immediate concern, however, is less with the inquiry, What are the reasons of this preference? than with the fact itself which they are tendered to explain. This fact evinces plainly the necessity to the student of mental science of a profound conviction of its utility. We shall attempt to impress this conviction in the sequel by indicating a few of the advantages that seem naturally to flow from an acquaintance with mental philosophy.

This study is eminently fitted to refine and strengthen the faculties of the mind, and to impart to it correct notions of its own capacities. Of all the points of analogy between our corporeal and mental organizations, there is none more prominent than this, that, in both, exercise is indispensable to the maintenance of health and vigour. And as some modes of action are found more salutary than others in their effects on the bodily system, so is the thinking principle variously affected by its own appropriate influences. Of those which may generally be styled beneficial, there are different degrees of useful adaptation; and there is therefore ground among them for comparison and preference. To a high, if not to the very highest, place in this order of influences, we think the study of mental science entitled to be raised. By the concentrated attention it constantly demandsby the subtle and profound analysis to which it accustoms -above all, by the habit of independent thought and inquiry which it creates-it subjects its votaries to a most

salutary and efficient discipline. While a man may indeed find ample and exalted occupation in mastering for himself, or in expounding to others, the laws that regulate the material universe, it is surely a still more dignified occupation to ascertain and elucidate the powers and the processes of that mysterious principle which is not only the recipient but the creator of knowledge. In metaphysical and ethical investigation there is a counteracting influence to those restricted and debasing impressions which the constant obtrusion of sensible objects is apt to form and foster. These inquiries, if we may venture form of speech more forcible than exact, keep the intellect cognisant of its own existence. By turning it upon itself, they afford it the most worthy subject for the exertion of its own powers. While physical science is barely empiric, mental is also reflective. In it, indeed, reflection is experiment. The former branch of study, therefore, calls exclusively into action the powers of observation and comparison. The latter gives employment in succession to all; communicates to each the highest degree of improvement of which it is susceptible; and thus preserves most effectually the proper balance of the mind. It is not,' says Dugald Stewart, among men of confined pursuits, whether speculative or active, that we are to expect to find the human mind in its highest state of cultivation.' This conclusion may be defended by a reference to the obvious fact, that the most celebrated names, either in British or Continental literature, are, with a very few exceptions, those of metaphysical philosophers.

The prosecution of this study, likewise, enables us to estimate aright our own capacities. As we have no access to inspect the workings of other minds, the facts and phenomena we are in quest of must be made known to us by personal experience and consciousness. A diligent and protracted scrutiny of our individual minds is thus rendered imperative. This again cannot be conducted without a material increase to our acquaintance with our own idiosyncrasies. In this study we do not consider the human mind abstractly so much as our own minds individually. It is by separating from the latter what is accidental, that we reach the true conception of the former. Of how much utility the discrimination of these accidents is, no one needs to be told. We can scarcely over-estimate its importance, whether we contemplate it as conducing to the improvement of the understanding or to the cultivation of the morals. That department of philosophy for which we now plead carries a lantern into the dome of thought and affection—lays bare those obscure recesses which formerly we were too negligent or too timid to explore-informs us where our strength lies, that we may put it forth; and where our weakness, that we may apply ourselves to its removal.

It is, moreover, apparent that the study of mental science must have a happy influence on the moral and religious principles. The truth of this has been questioned. Overlooking the fact that sacred truth bas nothing to dread but everything to hope from all rightly conducted philosophical inquiry, some have been forward to denounce, as hostile to it, independent investigation into the mind, especially as directed to its moral powers and susceptibilities. Such narrow and illiberal assaults are fitted to injure the cause they are meant to promote. This, indeed, is not to be feared in the case of the candid and discriminating. In their view, the science of theology will suffer as little from the indiscretion of its friends as that of mind and morals from the virulence of its adversaries. If piety is to be advanced by a most impressive class of proofs of the being, the purity, the benevolence, and the providence of the Deity, then the investigation into the laws of mind cannot fail to be happy in its influence. In the curious yet easy processes of that power by which we apprehend the existence and the forms of the external world; in the mysterious tenacity of memory-a tenacity consistent with temporary obliviousness, that our experience may only aid and not encumber us; in the crowning power of judgment, by which we discri

« PoprzedniaDalej »