mi ..^.. 5^^. \^ \n^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) y m^^ // >* C " Sf. 1.0 ^«a I I.I 125 ■is Ki 92.2 2.0 Ui lAO l^s^s L25 1 u II ,.6 < 6" ► 5 / r 71 / ^ > '^^V'?' '/ Photographic Sdoices Corporation 23 WeST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716)872-4503 ^^^ ^ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection die microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical l\^icroreproduu^ions / Institut ctinadien de microreproductions historiques Teshnical and Biblio(«raph]c Notes/Notes technlrjuae at bibliographiquaa Tha Inatituta haa attamptad to obtain tha best original copy available for filming. Faaturas of thia copy which may ba bibliographically unlqua, which may altar any of tha imagaa in tha raproduction, or which may significantly change tha uaual method oi filming, are checked below. D D D D Coloured covera/ Couverture de couleur I I Covers damaged/ Couverture endommag^a Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaur^e et/ou pelliculte Cover title mlaaing/ La titre de couverture manque Coloured mapa/ Cartes giographiquaa en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) Coloured plates and/or illustrationa/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur D Bound with other material/ Reli6 avac d'autraa documanta Tight binding may cauae shadowa or diatortion along interior margin/ La re liure serrde peut cauaer de I'ombre ou de la diatortion la long da la marge IntArieure Blank leavea added during reatoration may appear within tha text. Whenever poaaibia, these have been omitted from filming/ II aa peut que certainaa pages blanches ajouttes lors d'uno reatauration apparalasant dans le texte, maia, lorsque cela 6ta\t poaaibia, caa p signifie "A SUIVRE ". le symbols V signifie "FIN". Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those tc-o large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmte A des taux de rMuction diffirents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seul clichA, 11 est f limA d partir de i'angle supArieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants iliustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ■)>■ I i i I I FIVE OCCASIONAL LECTURES, DELIYEEED IN MONTREAL, l!^ FRANCIS FlILFOKJ), D.D., 1. 01! I) liiaHOI' OK MOXTRKAI). ;i liHontteal: PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY JOHN LOVELL. |.'0R SALU AT ALL THE IlOOKSTOREci 1859. f f ♦i CONTENTS. I . Inaugural Lecture to Church of Engl.aud Association for Young Men of Montreal, wn ; but the great progress whici) Umada is making, and the growth of her Scientific and Literary Institutions, lead tis to expect, that the day is iiot far distant, when from the Press of Canada there shall issue forth original works doing honor to her name, and worthy of compai-ison with those of othei- and older eountries. And, i„ prospect of such a time, this little attempt of mine may, perhaps, have contributed, in a ^mall measure, to have prepared the minds of a few additional readers to welcome the native Literat.ne of (.anada with grateful satisfaction. »Seb House, - Montreal, June [\, 1850. LECTURE I. INTRODDCTORy LECTURE. DELIVERED IN THE MECHANICS' HALL, BEFORB TBE CHURCH OF ENfilAl ASSOCIAIIOS FOR YOIIM MEK OF MOXIREAl, ON MONDAY EVENING, FEB. 16, 1857. Before we enter upon those particular objects which have been arranged for the Lectures to be delivered on the Mondays of the following weeks for this Association, in connection with which I am to address you this evening, it may be useful at this the commencement, to enter somewhat into a dissertation upon the nature and intent of such Associations in general, and the principles upon which this has been formed, the members of which, I, as Patron, now address. The Association is called the " Church of England Young Men's Association." This, like many other societies and associa- tions for benevolent or religious purposes, of which we are every day hearing, is an institution of very recent date; and while many people are too easily interested in any such matters by the very attraction of their novelty, others are too apt to object to any new projects, especially religious associations on this veiy ground of their novelty;— whereas no valid argument, either for or against them, can be raised on this score; but their merits or demerits must be argued on different principles. The first com- 10 moncetncnt of associations, more strictly of this particular oliarac- tor, appears to have been in the year IS.'iO ; in the November of which year " The Church of Knfi;land Workinjjj Men's Uible and Missionary Association" was established in the JJorouj^h of South- wark, which, as most of you no doubt know, joins the city of Jiondon, being just on the other side of London Brid<];c. The funds collected by the Association were at first divided between " The Church Missionary Society," anA " The British and Foreign Bible Society." Somewhere about 1840 the portion of the funds devoted to furthering the translation and circulation of the Holy Scriptures, was given to " The Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge," the other portion still being assigned to " The Church Missionary Society." In 1842 the first branch of this Association was formed ; and, crossing the river Thames, was located in Finsbury Square. The committee of this branch think- ing that it would bo better to alter the name of the Association, which had hitherto been " The Church of England Working Men's Bible and Missionary Association," after a long discussion, and a number of names had been proposed, agreed on the following : — " The Church of England Young Men's Association for Aiding Missions at Home and Abroad." Up to this period, as the move- ment had originated with the Church of England, so it had been under the management of its members and in connection with its principles. But some persons wishing lecturers of other com- munions as well as those of the Church of England to be engaged, and the mansgement to be conducted on a different principle from that which had hitherto prevailed, there was a division ; and, while the members of the Church of England kept to their ori- ginal organization, and made the city of London their head quar- ters, those who dissented from them appeared in Westminster under the name of the " Young Men's Christian Association." Whatever may be the merit attaching to them, it appears then, that to the Church of England is due the credit of first originating auch an oi^anization for the young men of her communion ; and dince that time similar associations — whether on the principles -^f the " Church of England Young Men's Associaton " such as the one now formed b, several of you present this evening, or on the n more j^cnornl biiHiH of the " Young Mon'H Christian Arfsnciution '* lis originated at WcsttninHtcr — have multiplied botl; in England and cIhcwIuto, and have, many of them, entered upon various u!id important religious and useful labours. There has very recently appeared in the English ncM'spapers an account of the new Bishop of L(»ndon having preached a sermon, on the occasion of a meeting of a branch of " The Young Men's Christian Association," (that is the Association which is open not only to menibers of the Church of England, but to persons of different communions) at the Church of St. Alban, Wood street, London, near tlie General Post Office. It was on New Year's day, at a ((uartor before 7 in the morning — and the service conclud- ed with the administration of the Holy Communion of the Lord's Supper. It is mentioned in the account given of the service, tliat the Bishop, after speaking approvingly of its organization, expressed his satisfaction, — " If any were present who were not members of the Church of England, and that they would thus show their friendly feeling by being present to hear the Word preached by her ministers, and. to join in her spiritual prayers, and in hearing those portions of" the Word of God which our Prayer-book sets before us at this time. But added, as to any approaching the most sacred rite of Communion in our Church, that it was a matter which tliey must weigh well with themselves. All he said were invited to ap- proach who were baptized, confirmed, or ready to be confirmed. He could well understand, he continued, that those who were members of any other national Church might rejoice to commu- nicate with the Church of England while sojourning amongst us, without forsaking the church of their own country and ^ome. Ho could understand, also, that many of our own countr 'men, who from their early training had been kept apart from the Church, might feel a growing desire to unite with her as the great safeguard of Scriptural Christianity in the land, though they could not re- solve to separate themselves entirely from past associations. Still he must say that it seemed to be an unsound state to hang doubt- fully between one community and another — not feeling really united with the Church, though loving its services and acknowledg- IS 12 iH: 5 ing that they did the heart good. There was always danger, said the Bishop emphatically, in hanging loose between two systems, and thus failing of the helps which either, according to its means afforded for the building up of the soul." The Bishop, — the ac- count goes on to say — it must be owned, thus inproved the occa- sion with great judgment and propriety, — withou compromise, and yet in all charity. Let us hope that his excellent appeal may have made some of his heJirers " seriously lay to heart the great danger we are in by our unhappy divisions," and lead them to banish " all hatred and prejudice, and whatsoever else may hinder us from godly union and concord." Now, for myself, I am always anxious to uphold, with all charity towards others, what I believe to be the truth, in matters of reli- gion, and most fully agree in the wisdom of the remarks here given, as embodied in the sermon of the bishop of London — that there is always great danger in hanging loose between differ- ent systems, and thus failing of the helps which either, according to its means, affords for building up the soul in spiritual strength. While, therefore, I honor others "iho may differ from me, when I see them zealously striving to promote what they think the best means ^f Christian usefulness ; so also, at the same time, I desire earnestly m labour, according to my own calling in the Gospel, for the furtherance of true religion and the gathering in of souls to Christ. Whatever shall appear in any way legitimately to advance the interest of that Church, of which I am a minister and chief pastor, to be a fresh channel of communication between any of her members, to afford means of usefulness for earnest and active spirits, seems a most legitimate field of action in which I may labour, — endeavouring not merely to promote union of members, but that full unity of spirit, which may be expected among those, who profess to worship together in one body and in one spirit, — to wait on the same ministry, and give utterance with the same voice to their prayers and praises before the Throne of Grace. But, in the formatiou from time to time of any such Associa- tions as this, or any others with kindred objects in view, viz. the furtherance of true religion, or, as it was stated in the distinc- tive name at first adopted by the Association in London, — " The IS Aiding Missions at Home and Abroad," it is very necessary that we should keep in view certain great principles of action to guide us ; which will serve to do away with many objections sometimes start- ed in opposition to such Associations, and will be a useful guide and rule to those who advocate them. Now " A Clxurch of England Young Men's Asssociation,'' from its very name neces- sarily implies its connexion with the Church whose name it bears ; but, as I said befoi'e, these Associations are new creations and there are persons who, on this ground alone, object to their introduction, and think because they were not in use in former times, they ought not to be allowed now. It will not be difficult, and may perhaps not be out of place, to show the fallacy of such an argument. Now m all important corporate Societies there are certain origi- nal principles embodied in their charters, which are essential to their existence, and which the members have no authority over, or liberty to alter. But in order to carry into effect the end of their incorporation, they have the power of making and remaking, amending or modifying, certain rules and bye-laws, which regu- late the details of their operations; and of delegating to sub- committees certain duties, and thus providing for the necessities of any particular occasions, or for meeting any unforseen difficulties in the way of the action of the Corporation itself. And this is exactly the state of the case with the Church. There are certain principles connected therewith which are fixed by the Divine Will — certain fundamental laws which are essential to its existence — certain ordinances without which it cannot exist. The 19th article of our Church declares, " That the visible Church of Christ is a congregation of faithful men, in which the pure word of God is preached, and the sacraments be duly administered ac- cording to Chrif't's ordinance in all those things, that of necessity are requisite to the same." And elsewhere she teaches us in her catechism, that there are only two sacraments " generally necessary > salvation. Baptism and the Supper of the Lord." In the preface to her ordination service she teaches us — " That it is evident unto all men, diligently reading the Holy _Scriptures and ancient Authors, that from the Apostles' time there have been three orders of Minis- I u u ters in the Church, Bishops, Priests and Deacons ; " — who are appointed to serve in the office of the Ministry, to preach the pure word of God, and duly administer the holy sacraments. She teaches us also from the plain statements of Scripture, that it is essential to the fulness of the sacrament of Christian Baptism that there must be the application of water, and that it must be per- formed " in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost," — while the giving and receiving of the elements of bread and wine are essential in the administration of the sacrama.it of the Supper of the Lord. And also by the adoption into her formularies of the three great Catholic creeds — the Apostles, the Nicene, and the Athanasian, she has provided for the promulgation of a pure faith, and for her unity in doctrine with the universal Church ; — on which Christ promised that his blessing should rest, and against which the gates of Hell shall never prevail. But while the Church receives her Ministry and Sacraments as of divine in- stitution, and her creeds as a sacred trust : while the former have been unchanged from the jfirst^ and are in their very nature un- changeable ; and the latter are consecrated and endeared, as the peculiar expression of the Church's faith from the earliest ages even until now, — it has been left to the wisdom of the Church in all times, according as it may seem necessary, to provide means for the effectual discharge of her calling, whether of converting the heathen, or building up her own children in the knowledge and practice of pure and undefiled religion. Changes of circumstances may certainly produce a species of necessity requiring the engrafting of new institutions upon the Church. And when we look at the antiquity of the Church, and the extraordinary changes of circumstances which have attended its history from the commencement to our own times, we must wonder at the manner in which it has often been able to meet and provide for the emergencies in which it has been placed. This has bee- effected in two ways, namely, first, by completing and carrying out institutions founded from the beginning, — in a man- ner filling up and finishing what had already been chalked out in a bold, simple outline ; and secondly, by throwing out new insti- tutions adapted to the peculiar exigencies which a more advanced 15 state of the Chuich, or of civil sooiety, or other circumstances of the times, required. r To this power of filling up outlines, and supplying things want- ing in matters of discipline, the learned Hooker refers, in Book Hi', ch. iv., of his " Ecclesiastical Polity." In this remarkable passage, he takes a profound view of a great feature in the economy of the Divine Government, namely, that some things are directly revealed, and others are left to be worked out by a certain machine- ry adapted to that purpose ; and there is an analogy in this respect between the government ofthe Church and the physical constitution of men. There is a remarkable exemplification of this theory to be found, for example, in the whole nature of the relations between the Church and the State, or civil government, and the great and intricate system of ecclesiastical public law arising out of that religion. Such a state of things, as we now understand by a con- nexion between the Church and the State — such as now exists for example in England — was certainly not primitive, for it did not commence for 300 years after Christ until the reign of the Emperor Constantino. But when it did take effect, it had nothing to do with the essential existence of the Church ; — no coumiission derived from any civil authority could confer ministerial office, nor add to or take from the sacraments, or interfere with those matters of faith which are entrusted to the Church, " as the keeper and witness of the truth." But though it introduced a system before unknown, inasmuch as, up to that period, the antiohristian authorities had been persecutors of the Church, yet there was in truth nothing novel in the principle upon which the system was founded, since it sprang from the duty of the Christian prince to obey, to protect, and in every way to favor the true Church, on the ground that he is bound by the obligations of Christianity, not only in his private, but in his public capacity also. But whether there be this con- nexion between the Church and the Civil Government, as at first established by Constantino, the first Christian Emperor, and as now exists in England, or whether the Church, in consequence of the state of parties, be independent of such connexion, as we see it on this continent, can merely be r^arded as an accidental circumstance, .1 \^ 16 assisting or impeding the working of the Church ; but in no way, by any possibility, affecting that which is of the essence of the Church itself. But this was not the only important change that was evolved by the force of circumstances as time ran on ; and the Church, sometimes influenced by individual agency, sometimes in her more corporate character, sometimes as it were imperceptibly led by some secret life within, sometimes answering to outward calls, has met, or endeavoured to meet, the diflBculties which beset her ; and like a skilful general in the day of battle, has changed her front in the face of the enemy, or redisposed her forces, or called up fresh troops to check the advancing foe. At this distance of time, and living as we do in an age, when the principle of religious toleration so prevails, as even to be in danger almost of lapsing into indifiFerence, it is not easy for us, though we read the history of the early Christians, and the fiery persecutions that tried so severely the steadfastness of their faith, it is not easy for us, I say, to realize. the actual state of society at that time, or always to do justice to the principles by which men were then actuated. Historians usually reckon ten general persecutions of the early Christians previous to the reign of Constantino — the first Emperor of Rome who was converted to Christianity. The first was under the tyrant Nero, A.D. 64, who, having set fire to Rome, threw the odium of the act upon the Christians. Multitudes of them were, in consequence, massacred. Some were wrapped up in skins of wild beasts, and torn and devoured by dogs ; others were crucified, and others burned alive ; and amongst those who suffered were the Apostles S.S. Peter and Paul. The second was undei* the cold- blooded Emperor Domitian, about 30 years after. Then followed, very speedily, the third under Trajan ; and others, with brief in- tervals of rest, under the Emperors Adrian, Marcus Aurelius, Severus and Maximin, till the eighth persecution occuiTcd under the Emperor Decius, in the year 250, after Christ, and was more bloody than any that had preceded it. The Christians were in all places driven from their habitations, plundered, and put to death by torments, the rack and the fire. It does not concern my present subject to go into any of those n details ; but I have alluded to this merely for the purpose of stating that it was at this period, and in consequence of the severity of this very persecution, under the Emperor Deoius, that Christians began to betake themselves to the life of the hermit, the anchorite or the monk: at first acting by individual impulse, in order to avoid the desolating fury of their persecutors, and afterwards being formed into a systematic rule and order. The names of hermit and anchorite are both derived from Greek words, signifying that the persons lived in deserts and retired places ; as is also that of monk, signifying that they lived each alone. I mentioned that the persecution under the Emperor Decius, which commenced in the year 250, was the most cruel of any under which the Christians had yet suffered ; and at this time a Christian of the name of Paulus, a native of Thebes, retired, after losing his parents in the persecution, into a distant part of the country. But a relative, for the purpose of obtaining the property of Paulus, which was considerable, threatened to accuse him of what was then so fatal a crime, viz : that he was a Christian. Paulus, therefore, fled into a desert, and for 92 years lived in a cave, where he attained the great age of 113 years, rigidly practising all the rules of the ascetic life. He is called the founder of the Hermits, or Solitaries, and was canonized under the name of St. Paul, the Hermit. In the year 270 — that is rather more than 20 years after Paulus com- menced his life of solitude, — another great patriarch of the monastic life, and whose fame is more widely spread, commenced his career, viz : St. Anthony. He is said to have been moved by those words of Scripture, 19 St. Matt. : " If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in Heaven ; and come and follow me." He embraced the ascetic life, retired into a desert in Egypt, and died there in the jear 356. St. Anthony, however, did not,- like St. Paul the Hermit, pass his life in solitude. A great number of persons placed themselves under his government, and he made them live according to the ascetic rules — not in separate hermitages, but altogether in a regular community ; and h. is, therefore, considered the founder of the Coenobites, that is, those who joined with others, and lived together in a regular community, with all things in common ; as St. Paulus was the founder of the Solitaries or Hermits. A short time afterwards, a person of the name of Pacumius founded in tho same country (Egypt) the famous monasteries of Tabenna. His disciples lived in houses, each containing 30 or 40 persons ; and 30 or 40 of these houses grouped together composed a monastery. Each monastery was governed by an abbot, and each house by a superior. All these monasteries throughout this region, acknow- ledged a single chief, and assembled under him to celebrate Easter, sometimes to the number of 50,000, including only these monas- teries of Tabenna ; besides which, there were others in other parts of Egypt, — those of Sceta, of Oxyrinica, of Nitria, and Mareotis. St. Hilarion, a disciple of St. Anthony, established in Palestine monasteries of nearly similar description, and his institution spread over the whole of Syria. The great St. Basil also acquired his knowledge of the monastic and ascetic system in Egypt, and to- ward the end of the same century (before the effects of the persecu- tion by the heathen Emperors had ceased,) established monasteries in Pontus and Cappadocia, giving them a code of rules founded on Christian morals. From that time the monastic institutions spread over every part of the East, in Ethiopia, Persia, and even in India. The West soon followed the example of the east. St. Athanasius introduced monastic life at Rome. His praises of the Oriental monastic bodies gave great encouragement to the erection of similar Societies in Italy. St. Simplicianus accordingly erected a monas- tery near Milan, with the consent of Saint Ambrose, the Bishop of the See. St. Augustine also founded a monastic order on his re- turn from Italy to Africa, where he was bishop of Hippo. St. TVIartin, (a disciple and friend of St. Simplicianus) after he became Bishop of Tours, introduced monachism into Gaul, about the 6th century, And St. Benedict (from whom the famous Benedictine order took their rise) a noble of Nurtia, who was born in the year 482, retired from Rome to the desert of Subiaco, where he founded several monasteries, and gave to them that code of rules which was universally adopted and followed in the West, as those of St. Basil were in the East. Now when we consider the state of the Church during the early persecutions of the Christian Emperors — and afterwards the whole state of the corntries, in which Christianity had gained any 'ooting, during the period of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire — the intestine troubles — the irruption of ' the heathen barbarians — the turbulence and ignorance of the various petty chiefs and barons, — we shall not wonder that earnest and faithful men were induced to adopt the means offered by these systems of life for avoiding the.desolating ravages of the persecutor, and for the encouragement of learning, and preserving a seed of pure religion to transmit to future generations. Almost the only opportunities at that time for study, and specially (which was of greatest importance) for the copying and preserving of the Holy Scriptures, were in the different religious houses, which were es- tablished in the different countries, where the Church was planted. It is not that the hermit, or the monk, or the monastery were any essential part of the Church, or known in the primitive and apos- tolic age — but they were means of help for that Church, sought out by her faithful members to suit the existing emergencies, and pro- vide for impending dangers. Theywere voluntary Societies, composed for the most part of laymen, and were therefore, of course, under the authority of the Bishops, like the rest of the faithful ; but the rules by which each Society was governed were merely in the nature of bye-laws and instructions. The rule of St. Augustine, which is still observed by many societies of men and women, was only taken from a letter addressed to his sister for the government of the house over which she presided, and from his sermons on the common life of the Clergy. But the two principal rules, in the early ages of the monastic institutions, were the rules of St. Basil in the East, and St. Benedict in the West. They were by far the most com- plete and finished of any, and with that of St. Augustine, became the fundamental law of all ancient monastic orders. In subsequent times there were also established the great quasi religious orders of the Knights of St. John and the Temple, intended to aid in the re- covery of the Holy Land from the infidels : the celebrated society of the Jesuits, founded by St. Francis Xavier ; and the orders of the mendicant Friars, the Dominicans and Franciscans, who were meant to be aa witnesses against the too luxurious and indulgent rules of the more ancient monasteries and the lives of the secular clergy. 'f.H h; . 'i f ' 4 i, ■ 20 I .) The ancient monks were so eP3entially layinen, that the desire to become a clerk, is mentioned by Cassiau in his Institutes, as a temptation, which they sliould resist, — for he says that temptation arose from ambition and vain glory. It is clear that, when a mo- nastery happened to be at so great a distance from its proper epis- copal or parochial church, that the monks could not ordinarily resort there for divine service, which was the case in the monasteries of Egypt, and other parts of the East, where the monks lived in great deserts, sequestered from the rest of mankind, then some one or more of the monks were ordained for the performance of divine offices among them. But what contributed most towards the clerical character of the ancient monks, was the removal, in progress of time, as the church began to enjoy rest and freedom, of many of their communities from the deserts into towns. That removal was brought about by the necessity which the bishops felt, upon the increase of their flocks, for the assistance of those nu- merous and now important bodies. Monasteries were also founded in and near towns, as, for instance, those of St. Augustine at Hippo, St. Ambrose at Milan, and St. Eusebius at Vercelli. The monks, too, took an active part in support of St. Athanasius against the Arians ; and St. Anthony Icl't his desert and went to Alexandria to labour in favour of the orthodox belief. But these institutions, which were thus at first the consequence of the emergencies in which the Church was placed, on account of the fiery persecutions to which she was subjected, and the tur- bulence and ignorance of the times, and which in their day did good service, became afterwards the cause of evils, which led to their suppression in England at the Reformation. The church adopted them in earlier times, because they were useful helps ; she put them aside, when they ceased to be so. I have said that at first they were all merely voluntary societies, and that they were formed with the consent of the bishop, in whose diocese they were placed, and were, like the rest of the faithful, subject to his au- thority ; but in process of time, as the bishops of Rome were gradually, but surely, building up the fabric of their usurped power over the rest of Christendom, they found these different religious orders very important allies ; and in return for the support they tl gave to the claim set up by the Bishop of Rome to the supremacy, they received from him promises of certain immunities, especially exemption from the authority and supervision oftheir own bishops, thus interfering grievously with the working of the church in each particular diocese, and concentrating all power in the hands of the See of Rome. This, together with the laxity of discipline that gradually was introduced, and the corruption arising from the enormous wealth that many of these religious houses had acquired, led (as I remarked) to their total dissolution in England at the Reformation in the reign of Henry VIII. How far, Henry, or those that assisted him in this work of dissolution, were actuated by pure and simple motives of religion, or by the desire to get their share of the plunder — which was thus obtained — may be very questionable. Cranmer, fully alive to the necessity of some radical change in the constitution and habits of the religious houses, was still anxious that their revenues should have been preserved to the Church and consecrated to holy uses. He found that their foun- dations and whole state were inconsistent with a full and true re- formation. For among the things to be reformed were these abuses, which were essential to their constitution ; such as the belief of purgatory, of redeeming souls by masses, the worship of saints and images, pilgrimages, and other similar superstitious practices. And therefore Societies, whose interest it was to oppose the Reformation, were in the first place to be suppressed ; and then he hoped, upon new endowments and foundations, that colleges should have been erected at every Cathedral, to be nurseries of Ecclesiastics for the whole Diocese, which he thought would be more suitable to the primitive uses of monasteries, and more profitable for the Church. He had also advised the King to erect many new Bishoprics, that the vastness of some dioceses being reduced to a narrower compass, Bishops might better discharge their duties and oversee their flocks, according to the Scriptures and the primitive rule. And honest old Latimer earnestly recommended to Cromwell, that the priory of Great Malvern, in his Diocese of Worcester, might be allowed to stand, " not in monkery, but so as to be converted to preaching, study and prayer." Adding : " Alas 1 my good lord, shall we not see two or three in every shire changed to such remedy." But such 22 . was not to be. When Henry and his courtiers set themso vlscot the work of demolition, because these religious houses were m i plying their wealth and not fulfilling the intents of their institution, many were the promises held out of the great public works, both religious and useful, to which their revenues were to bo appropriated ; but, with a very trifling exception, the whole amount of wealth thus obtained was either bestowed on royal favorites or wont into the privato purse of the crown. Wordsworth alludes to thi3 wholesale plunder and work of des- truction in some beautiful lines in " The Excursion " : — " He had witnessed, in his morn of life, That violent commotion, which o'crthrew, In town, and city, and sequestered glen, Altar, and cross, and church of solemn roof, And old religious house — pile after pile : And shook the tenants out into the fields, Like wild beasts without home I Their hour was come ; But why no softening thought of gratitude, No just remembrance, scruple, or wise doubt ? Benevolence is mild ; nor borrows help. Save at worse need, from bold impetuous force, Pitliest allied to anger and revenge. But humankind rejoices in the might Of mutability ; and airy hopes, • Dancing around her, hinder and disturb ./ Those meditations of the soul, that feed The retrospective virtues." Henceforth in England the Church was left to depend, so far as any actual ecclesiastical organization was acknowledged, upon what is known as the parochial system alone. That is, that whereas the whole country was divided into Dioceses, each Diocese being presided over by a Bishop, so each Diocese was sub-divided into Parishes, each Parish being under the charge of its own Rector or Minister, by which provision was made that in every place, whether in the cities, or villages, or remotest parts, there was some Minister on whose services the people had a claim, and who was answerable for the duties connected with the Church. Now this parochial system in England has constituted both the strength and 23 weakness of the Church — its strength in that it insures the minis- tration of the Church cvcrywhero throuj^hout tho length and breadth of tho land ; not merely in the great towns and near the residences of tho rich, but equally in tho wildest glen and on tho bleakest hillside. While it has been a source of weakness in that, the public mind for generations rested satisfied with tho provision once made, and heeded not the fact that what might have been sufficient 300 years ago, has gradually ceased to bo adequate to the wants of tho people, or able to take oversight of a population which has doubled and redoubled itself during that period. Tho greater attention paid to religion and the education of the people, and the increase in England of various communities dissenting from the Church, has served to set this fact more plainly before us during the last 30 or 40 years ; and many statistical returns have been published giving painful evidence of the large amount of the po- pulation, who have grown up practically excluded from all access to the means of grace, and unprovided with pastoral care ; since it was manifestly impossible with tho thousands, and sometimes perhaps tens of thousands, who were nominally under the charge of a single Minister, that he could possibly be able, ready, as he might be, to spend and bo spent for the Gospel, to have any personal in- tercourse with more than a fraction of them ; — nor if willing, was there any room for them in the parochial Churches. Neither have the exertions of other religious bodies been in any measure suffi- cient to supply the deficiency. In the middle ages, as we have seen, the Church sought the aid of the monasteries and religious com- munities, as then constituted. We do not want such in these days, as schools of learning, for we have provision made for that in a way more suitable to the present age ; nor can we approve the manner in which the members of those religious orders bound themselves by vows ; but still wo want for the clergy some co-operation and help to enable the parochial system, especially amongst the masses of large towns, to cope with the enormous amount of evil and in- fidelity that has grown up around us. In England during the last 20 years 3,826 new churches have been built, including those which have replaced old ones ; while in the same period so difficult has it been to provide the men, and the means of supporting them, t. ■ 1 7ILI ii the clergy have incroiificd only 411 ; the population, however, which before hud iUr outrun the power of the clergy, luw been Htill incrooH- ing ut a fearful rate. Hero, therefore, the evil hu8 been mot by no adeciuate remedy. And even in the matter of ChurclicH, there arc yet '^ascs where the disproportion between the accommodation af- forded and the number of the inhabitants is sometlnng ({uite ap- palling, For instance, in an appeal now making for aid towards the erection of Churches in London and its suburbs, the following statement is given : — Population. Church RooiQi Parish ofShoreditch 110,000 9,000 " Stepney 81,800 6,200 " St. John, Clerkonwell 10,000 800 " Clerkenwell, rest of 55,000 5,000 " St. Botolph, Aldgato 10,000 1,000 " Poplar 30,000 1,700 « Plumstead 12,000 400 But in order to try and provide some remedy for the overwhelm- ing evil which is now acknowleged on all hands, and to meet which in such cases the single services of the parochial clergyman, or it may be of two or three in any given district, are powerless, the Church, a few years since, adopted a regular system of Scripture Headers under the sanction and license of the Bishop of London and other Bishops ; there are frequently, also. District Visitors employed by the clergy on a more or less systematic plan ; and more recently we have, as I stated at the commencement, the establishment of* The Church of England Young Men's Association for Aiding Missions at Home and Abroad." These are eflForts made by the Church, or by some of her members, to aid and help her in the great work of her calling, and may become most useful and efficient agencies in connection with her regular ministry ; and as such we, here as well as in England, may receive their co-operar tion with thankfulness, and endeavour t'^ give permanency and efficiency, and a true ecclesiastical character to their labors. There are, however, two objects to be kept in view, I consider, in this your Association : — first, in that it offers opportunities of im- provement and wholesome recreation to those who are members of it ; and next, as furnishing an agency whereby you may your- I •elvcHbc an instrument of gble, an educational and a moral aa it entertains the fancy, opens new sources of insfxuctior., and cherishes or enlarges the feeling of virtue. A scholar, ii\ his experience, may be 6000 years old, and have learned brick-mak;ng under Pharaoh. Dryden called history a perspective glass, carrying the mind to a vast distance, and taking in the remotest objects of antiquity. The lives^ however, of nations, as of individuals often concentrate their lustre and interest in a few passages. Certain episodes may be judiciously selected. Such as the ages of Pericles, or Augustus, Elizabeth or Louis XIV, and Charles V. Sometimes a particular chapter embraces the wonder of a century, as the Feudal System, the Dawn of Discovery, and the Printing Press. But the frag- ments must be bound together by a connecting line of knowledge, however slender encircling the whole series of enquiries." General abridgments of entire works of eminent writers, though they may give us a sufficient acquaintance with certain dry hard 41 facts, are for the most part always heavy, dull and disappointing, and just so in proportion to the excellence of the original work. What we yearn after are the graphic details, the minute incidents, the reality, that enables us to bring the scene, as it were, all before us, and secure our warm interest on behalf of those engaged. We shall for ever find all this in translations ; but it is next to impos- sible in mere abridgments. Good translations are like good engravings from the pictures of great masters ; they cannot give us all the richness of the coloring, but they may give us the beauty of the design, and all the minute incidents of the piece. In abridgments also, we lose all or nearly all evidence of the talent of the original author ; the reflections and political sagacity, which are so large a portion of their value. Why, how large a poi'tion of the arguments used by the late Sir S. Romilly and Sir. J. Macin- tosh, in their speeches in the House of Commons, on the subject of capital punishment, is to be found in the 3rd Book of Thucy- dides, in the debate at Athens, specially in the speech of Diodotus, respecting the execution oOIitylenacans. Again, what thrilling interest is given in the same author, by the minute touches with which he fills up the pictures, in his account of the siege of Plataea^ the Corcyrsean Sedition, or the plague at iVthens — the last not surpassed by the fictitious tale of Defoe, respecting the Plague of London. Once more, what is it has so roused public attention, during the last twelve months, on the subject of the present Cri- mean expedition ? Has it not been because we have had so constantly before us all the little details of the sufferings, the he- roism, the wounds and the death of the combatants ? Just so is the account given by the Grecian historian of the expedition of the Athenians to Syracuse. An expedition which, in so many ways, bears a singular resemblance to the siege of Sebastopol : though differing in this most material particular, that at Syracuse the besieged, at Sebastopol the besiegers, proved victorious. We have first the account of the magnificent preparations of the arma- ment ; the names of the commanders, their characters, the reluct- ance with which Nicias accepts the post assigned him ; the expe- dition sails. Then the little episode of the overthrow of the sta- tues of Mercury, throughout the whole city of Athens ; the con- D « I i sequent ferment ; Alcibiades, the most energetic of the leaders, is implicated, and his recall decided upon. The arrival of the expe- dition at Syracuse ; the description of that city, with its several fortified harbors, and lines of fortification on the land side. The first successes of the Athenians. A rising ground which nearly commanded the whole city taken by surprise ; but the besiegers are then met by a counter wall ; this is stormed and taken also, but another wall has been erected within. There are full des- criptions of the varied success of the combatants, and the arrival of succours to each party at critical conjunctures. But at last the Athenians, after much suffering, determine to abandon the siege, as impracticable. Just as they are embarking, and when they might have made good their retreat, a total eclipse of the moon occurs, — their superstitious fears, dismay, and fatal delay in their departure, and subsequent total destruction of their whole magnifi- cent armament — both fleet and army — are described : winding up with the closing incident respecting many of the prisoners sold as slaves in Sicily, who gained the good \^^l and favor of their masters because they were able to repeat to them large portions of the poetry of Euripides, then at the height of his fame at Athens. So popular were the works of that great tragedian throughout Sicily, that some even of the stragglers of the defeated army are afl&rmed to have procured for themselves shelter and hospitality, during their flight, by the same attraction. And Euripides, we are informed, on the authority of Plutarch, lived to receive the thanks of several among these unhappy sufferers, after their return to Athens. And the same observations will apply to poetry, where its story is matter of invention. It is still the detailed incidents that give the feeling of reality to the picture, and excite our interest and win our sympathy. Hence it is that every schoolboy when reading Homer becomes for the nonce either a Trojan or a Greek ; rushes with Hector to fire the ships, yearns to give him back again his spear, when he finds how Pallas has played the warrior false in his last single combat with Achilles ; or joins Diomed and Ulysses, in the excitement of their night adventure in the Trojan camp. It is for this same reason that we feel so deeply for the grief and humiliation of old King Priam, when we go with him to beg from stern Achilles the dead body of his son. hi W'> 43 fii There is no doubt great diiference in the style of different authors ; and, independent of the matter, we are thus able to read some with much greater ease and pleasure than others. " How striking, (observes the late Mr. Sharp, in his volume of letters and essays) is this short passage in a speech of Edward the IV., to his Parliament : * The injuries that I have received are known every- where, and the eyes of the world are fixed upon me to see with what countenance I suffer.' If actual events could often be related in this way, there would be more books in circulating libraries than Romances and Travels. This lively and graphic style is plainly the best, though now and then the historian's criticism is wanted to support a startling fact or explain a confused transaction. Thus the learned Rudbeck in his Atlantica, ascribing an ancient temple in Sweden to one of Noah's sons : warily adds * 'twas probably the youngest.' You will of course, (jocosely remarks Mr. Sharp) hasten to study his book, it is only in 4 volumes folio." For a particular instance of the dramatic in modern history, where shall we find one more striking than in the account of Claver- house, Viscount Dundee, as given in Dalrymple's History of Scot- land. Dundee wandering about Lochaber, with a few miserable followers, is roused by news of an English army in full march to the pass of Killicrankie. His hopes revive. He collects his scatter- ed bands, and falls upon the enemy filing out of the stern gateway into the highlands. In fourteen minutes infantry and cavalry are broken ; Dundee, foremost in pursuit as in battle, outstrips his peo- ple : be stops and waves his hand to quicken their speed. While poir^'ntv eagerly to the pass, a musket ball pierces his armour. He rid ft the field, but soon dropping from his horse, is laid under tlie ■'; ic of trees that stood near ; when he has recovered of the faintne. ' , he desires his attendants to lift him, and turning his eyes to the field of combat, enquires " how things went." Being told that all is well, he replies with calm satisfaction, " Then I am well," and expires. ;, , . n Very similar and scarcely less graphic, is the account of the death of General Wolfe, as given in his history by Lord Mahon, who irtisfies the curiosity by many little facts. It is an event made i;«.r>iliar to many also by the excellent relation of it in a well known It i^i popular engraving. But, of course, no abridgment can afford space for those very details which comprise the beauty and interest of the narration. And I might observe, in passing, that it was men- tioned in the account of the St. Martin's Institution for the work- olasses, that there were 202 adults and children who were receiving instruction in the School of Art and Design ; and I believe it is desired to have a class, or classes, of something of the same kind in (jonnection with this Institution. Now, it is true that we are in a state of infancy in many ways, and specially all that relates to what are termed the cultivation of the fine arts. But if there be any latent talent to be called into active operation, if we ever hope to have our School of Art and Design amongst us — and why may there not be natural genius and talent in the youth of Canada as well as in the youth of old England c '-^ France? — it will be, at times, from reading such striking and mg passages in history, that unconscious genius will draw its ideas, and gather the inspira- tion, which it will afterwards strive to embody in its works. I need hardly now stop — indeed, time will not allow me — to speak much of the charms of biography : those detailed portraitures of individuals, that make us acquainted with the private life of the great, the g ^od and the wise of every age and nation, nor detain you to enumerate all its uses. "The lives of men of science have one peculiar advantage, that they often show the importance of little things in producing great results. Sraeaton drew his princi- ple of constructing a light-house from noticing the trunk of a tree to be diminished from a curve to a cylinder. Rembrant's mar- vellous system of splendour and shade was suggested by accidental gleams of light and shade in his father's mill. White, of Selbourne, carrying about in his rides and walks a list of birds to be investi- gated, and Newton turning an old box into a water clock, or the yard of a house into a sun-dial, are examples of those habits of patient observation, which scientific biography attractively recom- mends. Biography will also often serve to cheer merit when it« hopes are drooping. It leads down a gallery of portraits, and gives' the comforting or warning history of each. It shows Jackson working on his father's shop-board, and cherishing a love of art by an occaaional risit to Castle Howard j Riohardsou, a printer't! ■ 46 apprentice, stealing an hour from sleep to improve his mind, and scrupulously buying his own candle, that his master might not be defrauded ; or the Chinese scholar, Morrison, laboring at his trade of a last and boot maker, and keeping his lamp from blowing out with a volume of Matthew Henry's Commentary." It will, however, be but the rare exceptions, who will go forward under the pressure of difficulties and force their way, as it were, towards the clear light of day. And it should be the business and aim of an Institution like this,as its means will allow and its influence extend, to aid and encourage all its members in the pursuit of knowledge, and the cultivation of the mind, and the advanccmcn- of science and art. Whatever may be the case with a few earnest and ardent spirits, instruction in true and useful knowledge was never yet demanded by the many, till it was in a measure forced upon them. And here I must remind you, that the noblest sti- mulus to exertion, and the only true rule by which wisdom and learning can be exercised to any really good end, will still be want- ing, unless the principles of all education be laid in those higher motives, which have their foundation in revealed truth. I am well aware that it is not the specific business of this Institution in any instruction which it may impart, to undertake any particular charge in connection with religion ; and that it does not assume the superintendence of the general training of its members. But while dwelling upon the advantages connected with science and literature and arts, while stating my desire to see them more duly appreciated and attentively cultivated, — I wish expressly, as a minister of Christ, to guard myself against ever being supposed to imply, that any real benefit can be expected to arise to any nation or people from the pursuit or attainment of knowledge, except so far as it shall be overruled and influenced by true principles of education ; those which have reference to the destiny of man, as responsible for his actions to his Maker, and to his relation to Him, as being an heir, not of a mere temporal birth-right, but of immor- tality. Any mere cultivation of the intellect, apart from such reference to man's responsibilities to his Maker, is but preparing more subtle and powerful agents for accomplishing the work of the Prince of this World ; it is, in fact, committing over again the 46 primal sin that lost our first parents' paradise, and entailed on alt mankind the curse of God — it is approaching by forbidden ways the tree of knowledge, and seeking to enjoy the fruits thereof, be- fore we have earned our title to them by learning obedience. I am the more anxious to enforce this, because we are yet a young country, our population is as yet comparatively small, and our character is yet in course of formation. And it will be our wisdom to take warning from what we see and hear elsewhere. Our neighbours in the United States are a great nation, increasing in wealth and numbers, exhibiting great activity of intellect, and with a vast array of public and private institutions for the in- truction of youth, and imparting knowledge ; yet, as I find it stated by themselves, there seems something deficient in their system. And it is well that they have the honesty, and boldness, and candour, amongst their own citizens, to denounce what is false or pernicious in their institutions or their effects, in order, if it may be so, to provoke a remedy. And while I could have no means myself of forming such an accurate opinion respecting them, and if I had, I might have been perhaps backward to declare it : yet, as their own testimony, it ought to be instructive. About ten years ago, in a fourth of July oration, delivered by Mr. Mann, the Secretary of the Massachusetts Education Board, I find such passages as the following : — " The great experiment of Republicanism,of the capacity of men for self-government, is to be tried anew, which, wherever it has. been tried, — in Greece, in Rome, in Italy. — has failed, through an incapacity in the people to enjoy liberty without abusing it. A vast continent is here to be filled up with innumerable beings, who may be happy through our wisdom, but must be miserable through our folly. In a Republican Government the ballot-box is the urn of fate, yet no God shakes the bowl, or presides over the lot. If the ballot-box is open to wisdom and patriotism and hu- manity, it is equally open to ignorance and treachery, to pride and envy, to contempt for the poor, or hostility to the rich. It is the loosest filter ever devised to strain out impurities. It gives equal ingress to whatever comes ; no masses of selfishness and pride, no foul jtggregation of cupidity or profligacy are so ponder- ous, as to meet obstruction in its capacious gorge." — Then having spoken of the evils in the system of government, he goes on to say — " I have shown if not incurable, yet unless cured, a fatal malady in the heart. I tremble at the catalogue of national crimes, which wo arc exhibiting before heaven and earth." (And having enumerated a long list, he proceeded to ask:) And are not the business relations of the community contaminated more and more with speculation and knavery ? In mercantile honour and hones- ty, in the intercourse Ijetween buyer and seller, is there not a lux- ation of all the joints of the body commercial and social ? " Such was the picture ten years ago ; and how has it since improv- ed ? Bishop Hopkins of Vermont, in an eloquent address deliver- ed last year before the House of Convocation of Trinity College, Connecticut, and published by request, fills up the canvass to the present time. After paying a tribute of praise to the sages and patriots, who settled the government of the United States, about seventy years ago, he proceeds to speak of its present condition and prospects : " First, then, we hear on every side the charge of political corruption. Bribery is practised in all our elections. The spoils of ofl&ce are expected, as a matter of course, by the victorious party. The President of the United States dares not to be impartial : for if he were, he would loose the confidence of his friends, without gaining the confidence of his enemies. The oldest statesmen, and the most prominent cannot follow the dic- tates of their own judgment and conscfence, without being reproach- ed as if they were laying traps for the Presidential chair. With the other classes in the community the same charge of venality and corruption meets us again. Our merchants are accused of all sorts of dishonest management ; our brokers of stock-jobbing, our city aldermen of bribery, our lawyers of knavery, our justices of complicity. The same worship of mammon serves to govern the whole, and the current phrase " the almighty dollar " is a sad but powerful exponent of the universal sin, which involves the mass of the population. But most of all, we see it in the awful blasphemy with which the Bible is denounced by male and female lecturers, while statesmen and politicians stoop to pander to this public outrage upon all religion and decency ; totally forgetful of 48 their high official duty as guardians of the faith and morals of the people, and ready to give their countenance to the most sacrile- gious and wanton attacks upon the word of God. It would seem strange, indeed, if we did not find, at such a time, the loudest complaints of the incr'^ase of juvenile depravity. It is well known there are thousands of children in our large cities who are taught to live by crime ; young in years but old in wickedness. In fact the christian religion, in every form, is attacked with more open boldness than at any former period. False philosophy, pre- tended science, spiritualism, rationalism, are all busily at work ; and the light of the world is growing more and more faint as the clouds of scepticism multiply and thicken around it." I might easily add to such testimony, but I have taken these witnesses, at an interval of some years, both persons in high official position, well acquainted with their country, men of talents and intelligence. Now it is certain that no mere acquisition of know- ledge, however curious or profound, no instruction in any particu- lar sciences, however useful or interesting, can be any remedy for such a state of things, or a safeguard against it. And I have no- ticed now what is said by these American citizens, that in these our earlier days, in this adjoining country, with much of the same elements both for good or evil amongst us, we may not rest satis- fied without having some deeper foundation laid, for the security of our social system and national prosperity. There is something else required to make a nation ttuly great and her people happy, be- sides coflFers filled with dollars, or a people full of knowledge. A heathen poet would say — ''Quid leges sine nioribtis vance profi- ciunt V^ "What profit are inoperative laws without morality ?" And how can we hope for morals without religion ? and what is religion but submission to the law and will of God ? But let us not look forward without good hope for Canada ; at least, let us do our endeavour, that, the foundation being duly laid, the su- perstructure of her society, from the chambers of her legislature and the seats of justice to the lowliest dwelling, may, as she grows and becomes great and powerful, be yet rendered secure, and not only well able to bear, but able to impart additional force and beauty to all the achievements and triumphs of science and art. 49 And, with these few observations on the folly, as well as the sin, of supposing that you can rightly educate or improve a nation by merely abstract scientific or intellectual instruction ; while looking upon all such work as only the adjuncts and subordinate parts of any system that ought to find favour with Christians, I shall rejoice to see this Institution accomplish the object for which it was incor- porated, and in its own place take its due and proper part in the work before us ; and, shall be well satisfied to contribute my la- bor, if I might hope thus to see it succeed. It may become, not all at once, but in due time, an instrument of much use in as- sisting and forwarding the studies of its members, in the manner I have hinted at in a former part of this lecture ; and by-and-by also, as your means and opportunities will allow, by enlarging your library, and establishing in some systematic form, a School of Art and Design. But your young men should feel tliat Art and Science, to be pursued at all successfully, must be pursued earnestly, with a resolute will, and with some definite object. Nothing is more absurd than that affectation of science, which is now so of- ten witnessed ; shreds and scraps of knowledge must be gathered together from all quarters ; every book must be opened, and none read ; every science heard of, but none studied. And having enlarged so much upon the pleasure as well as the advantages of studying the best histories and biographies of former times, I will now conclude with a few of the remarks made by the poet, in his conversation with Rasselas, when he tells him that, " there is no part of history so generally useful, as that which relates to the progress of the human mind, the gradual improvement of the reason, the successive advances of science, the vicissitudes of learning and ignorance, which are the light and darkness of think- ing beings, the extinction and resuscitation of art, and the revolu- tions of the intellectual world ?" I I ; v {ii LECTURE III. "ON TASTE Al STILE IN UTERATURE; DELIVERED IN THE NATIONAL SCHOOL ROOM, AS TM INTRODUCTORY LECTURE OF A COURSE IN CONNEC- TION WITH THE DIOCESAN LIBRARY, ON MONDAY EVENING, JAN. 3, 1868, My purpose, in the present Lecture, will be to make a few observations on the faculty of Taste in general, under its definition, as it has been described to be " the power of receiving pleasure from the beauties of nature and of art:" and afterwards, I shall apply the subject more particularly to works of Literature. And I must at once expressly state that I put forward no claims myself to any deep acquaintance with the fine arts, nor to any originality of idea in anything I may say on this occasion. Where it suited my purpose, I have freely availed myself of the assistance of Blair and other writers on the same subjects ; not however with any view of entering into any systematic or learned disquisitions; but simply wishing, in addressing a mixed audience, like the present, to furnish them with a few rules, which may be useful to them here- after in forming their opinions of, and increasing their relish for, and pleasure to be derived from works of acknowledged excellence. There is a common saying respecting Tastes, which has passed into a proverb, viz: "that there is no disputing about Tastes;" 52 lilK that t«, that one person has as much right to his Taste, and to consider it the most correct, a« another lias to his ; and that there- fore there are no means of settling the ((uestion between thenu And this to a certain extent is true. The Tastes of men may difl'er very considerably as to their object, and yet none of them be wrong. Ono man relishes Poetry most ; another takes pleasure in nothing but History. Ono prefers Oomedy, another Tragedy. One ad- mires the simple, another the ornamented stylo. In Architecture some prefer the Gothic, some the classical orders. In Painting some may delight most in the bold outlines and glowing colors of Rubens, others in the stateliness and high finish of a Vandyck. In Music some may prefer the simplicity and grandeur of Ilandel, others the ornate beauty of Mozart, or the elaborate science of Beethoven. Though all differ, yet all pitch upon some one beauty, which peculiarly suits their turn of mind; and therefore no one individual has a title to condemn the rest. It is not in matters of Taste, as in questions oi mere reason, and of course specially in the exactor sciences, where there is but one conclusion that can bo true, and all the rest are erroneous. Truth, which is the object of reason, is one ; beauty, which is the object of Taste, is manifold. Taste, therefore, admits of latitude and diversity of objects ; but it must, in each case, be in sufficient consistency with goodness and justness of Taste. And then comes the question, whether there is any standard of Taste ; and, if there be, how it is to be applied ? If Taste be a " power of receiving pleasure from the beauties of Nature and of Art," there must be degrees in the quality of Taste, according to the excellence of the subject matter ; and that must be, in a certain degree, tested by reason ; and I may say, by ex- perience also, since a man may in ignorance admire at one time what increased experience will lead him to reject at another. And the works of Nature, which bear the impress of their Divine Original, are, in a certain measure, a guide by which to judge of works of art. But it requires experience to become a good judge. Some people, no doubt, have a certain exquisite innate perception of the beautiful ; they possess, what is termed, a natural good Taste, which will manifest itself at all times. But this is not the case with the many. In the same way, we have heard of instances of 53 porsona who seem almost to have boon born Mathomaticinns, but they arc tho rare cxcoptiouH ; and wo nioHt of uh rcvjuiri; to have our TaHtcs rornicd by tho cxorciso of rcamn and r.rjurlriice. Experinxcr^ whioh gives us tlu; opportunity of conipurinj^ dilforent BpoeinnniM, and reason^ which cMiabh'.s us to judge of tho litncHS and adaptation of tho objoct under inspection for tho end proposed, and tho harmony of itn scvond parts, which is one great ek;nient of beauty. And, moreover, there is a rule of perfection in the works oi'nutiDr, which is manifested more and more to tho observer, and which it is tho business of art to aim at obtaining. Lot us soo how this operates in any different examples. To take a very simple one : — Many people arc fond of flowers ; thoy possess, perhaps, a Carnation plant, which bears an abundance of flowers of a largo size, and striped in varied marks with red and white; they admire and cherish it. But some friend, it may be, a little more advanced in floriculture, will inform them that tlieir favorite is but a poor specimen ; that, though large and full of blossoms, it is not true ; that its colors are. all run, and its shape contrary to all rule. And this is a fact, which, bye and bye, when they ha^v seen and mark- ed more perfect specimens of the same flower, will at once approve itself to their own reason. And nature proves it too ; for while by care and attention you may perpetuate the perfect specimen in its identity, the imperfect one is ever varying ; no two flowers, per- haps, will resemble each other, and all will be false. By reason and experience then, an improved Taste is acquired, and you learn to judge more correctly of the Beautiful, and, to a certain extent, of, what we may even term, the True. All Tastes are, so to speak, progressive ; they are formed and improved by that ex- ercise of our reason, which we are enabled to call into play by en- larged acquaintance with the works of nature and of art. This is the case in Music, Painting, Architecture and Literature ; and the same principle, which enables us to form a correct judgment in these departments of art, will influence us in other matters also, such as Dress, Equipages, Furniture, and general manners and conversation. We learn to appreciate things by a diflbrent rule, and require a certain propriety, a harmony (which simply means a fitting together) in all the parts to satisfy us. And where we 54 Mi m 1 meet with these requisites we shall derive a depth and intensity of gratification, of which, in times past, we had no conception. There is no doubt often an affectation of Taste, a pretence of admiring because it is considered the right thing to do so ; while the individuals expressing such admiration, or affecting such Taste, may neither understand nor appreciate the works they are praising. But this is beside the present question. As there arc some peo- ple, who, as I said, have a natural and intuitive correct Taste, so some others will always retain a false one ; as there arc some peo- ple who cannot distinguish colors, and others whj perceive no difference between different tunes. I speak, ' owevcr, of the ge- neral state of the case ; that there is a certain standard of Taste, which, though not defined exactly, is yet a real one ; and by ex- perience we become fully conscious of it, appreciate it, and acknowledge its truth. Taste is progressive ; and in general we always find, until cultivated and refined, that it rests with most satisfaction upon what is merely vast, or what is ornamented and showy; without reference to any rules of concinnity, harmony, fitness or propriety. Let us take one of the lowest specimens in connection with dress : viz., the passion for an accumulation of all the brightest and gaudiest colors, wbich is manifested so generally by negroes — and in a certain degree by many of a different class. So again with respect to Music, you will alwaypi find, that any peo- ple who know but little of music, receive but little satisfaction from any thing which has not, what is termed, a great deal of tune in it ; and that they will listen with far more delight to a comic song set to some jingling notes, than to the finest pieces of Handel or Mozart. But this would not continue if they had sufficient experience to test their Taste ; and nothing is more remarkable than the growth in England, specially in London, during the last few years, of a true Taste for the better si;yles of both vocal and instrumental Music; though the English are certainly not a people of musical genius, like the Germans and Italians. Besides many other places uiad for like purposes, in the great room at Exeter Hall, wVich will hold upwards of 3,000 people, with an orchestra for 500, Oratorios are performed all through the winter to such crowded aud/.ences that every inch of standing room is filled ; and 55 this not for the sake of any particular popular singer, but for the Bake of the music itself. The Messiah of Handel, the creation of Haydn, the Elijah of Mendelssohn, a work confessedly so scienti- fic that it requires to be heard often to be fitly appreciated, are the objects of their admiration. These concerts, though all classes are present, are for the most part attended by the neighbouring trades- people and their families, who not long since would have been tempted out by nothing less exciting than an Ethiopian melody. The same change, though at a slower rate, is being effected in the public taste in the department of Painting, by the greater facili- ties afforded for becoming acquainted with the works of the great masters in the National Gallery, Lord Ellesmere's and others, freely opened to the public. And it is not possible that any one, whose eye has been accustomed to delight in ihe richness of Rubens, or whose imagination has been excited by the inspiration of Raphael, can fail to see the justness of that Taste, which accords to them such an illustrious place in the Temple of Fa. iC ; and while deriv- ing intense gratification from the contemplation of their works, he will turn with indifferer.ee from the gaudy canvass, which he per- haps had once fondly regarded as a masterpiece of art. Good Taste will particularly require that there should be a certain harmony and propriety in all the parts of any work ; not satisfied with any amount of ornament, which is not in place and keeping. Thus, however excellent may be the quavers and flourishes of any scientific singer, yet if they are intruded into the music of Handel, for instance, they will be so out of place, so out of keeping with his majestic simplicity, that they will utterly destroy its character and effect. Just as if in Architecture you were to erect a Portico, with Corinthian pillars, for a Temple of the severe simplicity of the Doric order ; or what is still more incongruous, a highly ornamental Grecian porch for a Gothic church : as is the case in the great church of St. Mary's at Oxford. However such ornaments may be admired in themselves, they are outof place. But to form a correct Taste in Music, Painting or Architecture, it is requisite that the best models should be studied. In Paint- ing, the first thing which attracts the attention of the many, is the ?..' ii m story, if there be one ; but this evidently has nothing to do with the painting, since it is equally well told in an engraving, or in a painted copy. This is soon mastered, and can be learned at once by reference to the printed text of a catalogue ; and when once understood, there is nothing further to be developed by it. But this is but a small portion of the painter's art; the poetry, the imagination, the high artistic skill which depends on the genius of the artist, and which are shown in the lights and shadows — the depth and richness of colouring — the force of expression — all this requires long study to appreciate. It gives such an enduring interest to the portraits of Vandyck, and the great master-pieces of Correggio, Garacci or Raphael. The same occurs in Poetry. What numbers have read '' The Lady of the Lake," or " Mar- mion," simply for the story ; utterly regardless of all the beautiful imagery and poetic fire which constitute their highest charm and excellence. • Here on this side the Atlantic there must be, for many years, great disadvantages in forming a correct Taste in most of the Fine Arts from want of facility of access to the best models. In painting, scarcely any single specimens of the best masters are to be seen anywhere by the public on this continent ; and there does not ex- ist one great public collection of them. There is one public exhi- bition of pictv res in New York, the Dusseldorf Gallery, which is a collection o:* works of modern German artists, sent there for ex- hibition and sale : and though including some pictures of consi- derable merit, yet as a general gallery of Art it is quite without pretensions. ■ Where there is but little familiarity with the style of the old Masters, great impositions arc often practised ; and a school of painters is said to exist in Italy for the purpose of manufactur- ing pictures which may pass for old originals, and which are being constantly bought up as such. These copies easily re- main undetected, where they are not exposed to the examination of any experienced judges. But you could not exhibit a copy of any ancient master in London for a single day, how excellently so- ever it might be executed, without its being immediately detected as such, by many scrutinizing eyes, which know at once the ex- 57 quisite touch of Caracci and Correggio, Julio Romano and Rapha- el; and each d' dnct from the other, as well as iftheir names were emblazoned in full at the bottom of the picture. This arises from having their judgments corrected by experience, and their Taste raised by long familiarity with excellence. And so also in Archi- tecture. Where shall we look in this country for any pure speci- mens of Art ? And in Music we must likewise to a considerable extent, be at great disadvantage in these respects, when compared with the inhabitants of England and the continent of Europe. But if this be so in these branches of Art, from the difficulty of access to more perfect models, the same need not be the case, to the like degree, in Literature. — Raphael's great work of " the Transficfuration " in the Vatican, or his " Madonna di San Sisto " in the Dresden Gallery, — the Crucifixion of St. Peter by Rubens at Cologne, — or that marvellous " Statue that enchants the world" in the Tribune of the Florence Gallery, — the ecclesiastical edifices in Normandy and England, — the colossal remains of the Flavian Amphitheatre at Rome, or the ruins of the Acropolis at Athens, — ar*" single and alone; they cannot be reproduced and multiplied in their identity, and made equally accessible to the inhabitants of ev< ry nation. — But the Art of Printing enables every one, if he pleases, at a trifling cost, to be as familiar with the works of the ancient or modern Augustan ages of Literature, in the Ijackwoods or wilds of North America, as in the most famed "ats of learning on the banks of the Isis, or amidst the groves of vciidcnius. Of course it is not likely that in such diflFerent localities they will be studied with equal assiduity or success ; and there must be iinniy advantages, arising from without, that are accessible in one and not in the other. But still, as contrasted with the sister arts, the path of Literature is thus comparatively laid open, and in conse- quence the best models may be studied, and the taste improved, and what is excellent appreciated. And there is such an affinity between these different branches of Art, that the formation of a just Taste, capable of appreciating the Beautiful and the True in any one department, will prepare the way for the development of an improved Taste in others also. For it will give a more correct standard to the mind and feelings, and will cause a craving after a just proportion, a harmony, a fitness of parts in whatever may be under consideration. And it will generally be found that the same style which is approved in the one, will be approved in the other Arts also ; and the power of appreciating excellence in one having been attained, will, by developing the faculties of discrimi- nation, and raising the standard of true Taste, assist in cultivating a general Taste capable, to a certain extent, of being applied, when required, to any objects presented. It may, for instance, be ge- nerally expected that a person who is fond of tropes and figures, and what is often termed fine language, or flowery eloquence, will also give the preference to the Corinthian capitals, or the later florid style of Gothic Architecture, with its flamboyant windows and richly carved mouldings ; while another, who gives the pre- ference to Addison and Hume, instead of Johnson and Gibbon, as models of style in Literature, will be far more likely to give the palm to the earlier Gothic edifices, where the great harmony of the whole is less disturbed by the elaborate development of single parts ; or to point with admiration to where " in simplest grandeur stands a Dorian Fane." Having then made these few and hasty remarks on Taate in general, let us apply the subject more particularly to Literature; and this, more especially, because it may be more practically use- ful : the means of improving our Taste, and raising our judgment of the Beautiful and True to a more correct standard, being, in this department of Art, more easily accessible to all. It was a saying of that wily diplomatist, Talleyrand, that, " speech was given us in order that we might be able to conceal our thoughts." Without entering upon the duties of diplomatic reserve, certainly, ordinarily considered, the use of words and language, whether written or spoken, is intended to af-Nist us in making manifest thought, and conveying information. And if that be so, care should be taken that, in composition, that end be effect ed; that, whatever be the subject, or whatever the style, it should be clear and intelligible, from the right use of words, true gram- matical construction, and proper formation of sentences. That, supposing there he bamething which is intended to be told, that we have some information to communicate, it should be done in a manner capable of being understood. 69 I « With respect to the right use of words, people of imperfect education, who aflFect fine language, often make sad blunders. This has been broadly ridiculed by Shakspeare and other dra- matic writers, in the characters of Dogberry, Mrs. Malap^op, and the like. But, without oflFending to such an extent, more careful persons often write and express themselves loosely, con- founding words in common use, but of widely different mean- ing, such, for example, as secure and safe ; since a person may be quite sct/c, liable to no danger, and yet not secure, free from all apprehension ; and vice versa, he may feel quite secure, when really least safe. So again Pride and Vanity are often spoken of as if they were synonymous, or almost necessarily developed in the same character ; whereas a really proud person is hardly ever vain, nor a vain one proud. A proud person thinks so highly of himself, that he is perfectly indifferent to what the rest of the world think of him. A vain man is timidly solicitous for the applause of others because he does not feel really proud and self-satisfied. Then, there is great care required in the use and proper location of pro- nouns ; most useful parts of* speech, when rightly applied, but making sad confusion and nonsense, when out of place. So careful and elegant a writer as Addison is not always free from censure, as Blair remarks, in this respect. Thus in the Spectator, No. 412, he writes, " We no-where meet with a more glorious and pleasing show in nature, than what appears in the heavens at the rising and setting of the Sun, which is wholly made up of those different stains of light, that shew themselves in clouds of a diffe- rent situation." Which is here designed to connect with the word show, as its antecedent ; but it stands so wide from it, that without a careful attention to the sense, we should be naturally led, by the rules of syntax, to refer it to the rising and setting of the Sun, or to the Sun itself; and hence an indistinctness is thrown over the whole sentence. The following passage in one of Bishop Sher- lock's sermons is still more censurable : " It is folly to pretend to arm ourselves against the accidents of life, by heaping up trea- sures, which nothing can protect us against, but the good providence of our Heavenly Father." — Which, the relative pronoun, always refers, grammatically, to the immediately preceding substantive, M I 1, : > I 60 11 which here is treasures ; but this would make nonsense of the whole period. The sentence ought to have stood thus : " It is folly to pretend, by heaping up treasures, to arm ourselves against the accidents of life, which nothing can protect us against, but the good providence of our heavenly Father. ' Metaphors, similies, and the like figures of speech are often of gi'eat force and beauty ; but they must be well sustained and appo- site, or they only create confusion, and appear ridiculous. For instance, when we read in the Spectator, that, " there is not a single view of human nature, which is not sufficient to extinguish the seeds of Pride:" observe the incoherence of the things here joined together, making a view extinguish, and extinguish seeds. The use of the parenthesis is always to be avoided, if possible; and is hardly ever really necessary ; it weakens the force of a sen- tence, and renders it less distinct. Boswell, in his Life of John- son, says: "Johnson's attention to precision and clearness in ex- pression was very remarkable. He disapproved of a parenthesis; tmd, I believe, in all his voluminous writings not half-a-dozen of them will be found." * But perhaps few things are of more importance than the Htructure of the sentence ; not only to have them grammatically formed, and full of words rightly applied, but the whole put together in a pleasing and intelligible manner. The sentences should not be all uniform, as that creates a wearisome mono- tony; nor too long, as then they are apt to become obscure. Clarendon, in his great work on " The Rebellion," errs sadly in the length of his sentences; which must make it a very fatiguing book to read aloud. Milton, in his work on " The Reformation," makes the second sentence run into 29 folio lines, divided into nearly as many members. Hammond, one of our most learned Divines, exceeds terribly in the length of his sen- tences. What would you think of my commencing a Sermon, as he once did, with such a compact little sentence as the following ? *' There is not, I conceive, any piece of divinity more unluckily " mistaken, more inconveniently corrupted by the passions and *' lusts of a man, made more instrumental to their foulest purposes, " than that of the promises of Christ ; whether by giving them the 61 " enclosure and monopoly of our faith, — the commands of Christ " and the threats of Christ, which have as much rij;;ht to be believed '' as they, His kinm " pctcnt to shako his holy resolution. God had promised, and " Abraham believed. God had called, and Abraham obeyed. — He " therein re became a voluntary outcast. He therefore traversed " regions that he had not seen, to reach a country which he did not '* know. Assured that, in all regions, God would be his guide and *' protector. Assured that his posterity should flourish in the •' promised land." ' • To go, however, into any particulars respecting styles of writ- ing, under the various heads under which they have been classed, — sublime, pathetic, diflFuse, concise, feeble, nervous, plain, elegant, flowery, &c., would be far beyond the limits now afforded us. But since, as I have observed, the communication of knowledge, the imparting new ideas, is the object to be kept in view, this must not be lost sight of, because of any satisfaction imparted to the ear, either by the musical structure of the sentence, or the use of mellifluous or imposing words. A grandiloquent florid style of composition often meets with many admirei"s, who would probably be puzzled for a reply, if they were to be asked, what ideas they had gained from what they had heard ? though they might not perhaps feel all the humility, which Southey, in his curious, and most interesting work, " The Doctor," ascribes to "a woman in humble life ; who, on being asked on the way back from church, whether she had understood the sermon which a stranger had preached, and which had been both a long and abstruse one, gave as her simple and contented answer, ' wud I hae the presump- tion?' " Dr. Johnson has much to answer for in exciting a taste for a grandiloquent style ; but then his was not mere verbiage ; he had abundance of matter. Dr. Johnson has been supposed, with some reason I believe, to have formed his style after the model of Sir Thos. Brown, from whose works he quotes continually in his Dictionary. Brown wrote on " Vulgar errors," and also other works ; where such sentences as these occur : — '' Scintillations are '' not the accension of the air upon the collision of two hard bodies, " but rather the inflammable effluences discharged from the bodies " collided." And again, "Ice is figured in its guttulous descent "from the air, and grows greater or lesser, according unto the " accretion or pluvious aggelation about the mother and fundamen- 63 " tal atoms thereof." But if Johnson imitated Brown's style, he f^avc the praise to Addison's ; for in his life of Addison he says : " Whoever wishes to acquire a style which is familiar but not " coarse, and elegant but not ostentatious, must ^Ive his days and '* nights to the volumes of Addison." It has been surmised that after Johnson had written his Dlctlon- nri/, he introduced such a number of hard words into " The Ram- bler," in order to oblige people to buy the Dictionary^ that they might be able to find out their meaning. In his conversation lie got so fond of such long sounding words, that often, after having expressed himself in simple words, he would go over it again, and translate his speech into something more sonorous. A lady having one day said that she doubted Mr. Thomas Ilollis was an Atheist. Johnson replied, ' I don't know that. He might perhaps have become one, if he had time to ripen ;' then, smiling, ' he might have exuberated into an Atheist.' But, however such a style may be tolerated, or even admired, when it is the vehicle of an abundance of matter and powerful thought, it is a gross imposture when used without such accom- paniments ; and it is certainly a great mistake to suppose that simplicity of style and easy language are not fully capable of expressing the sublime, the beautiful, and the pathetic. When Sir Walter Scott was contemplating writing " The Tales of a Grandfather," he entered into his Diary the follow- ing passage : — " A good thought came into my head to write " stories for little Johnie Lockhart, from ' the History of Scotland,' " like those taken from ' The History of England,' by Croker. " But I will not write mine quite so simply as he has done. I am " persuaded both children, and the lower class of readers, hate books " which are written doion to their capacity, and love those that are " composed more for their elders and betters. I will make it, if '' possible, a book that a child shall understand, yet a man will " feel some temptation to peruse, should he chance to take it up. " I will require, however, a simplicity of style not quite my own. '' The grand and interesting consists in ideas, not in words. A " clever thing of this sort might have a race." How admkably he succeeded in his attempt, it is needless for me now to say ; or I, 64 how groat has been the pleasure and Improvement afforded to young and old. The author of " Companions of my Solitude" remarks * that of all defects, that which has been most fatal to a good stylo ' is the not knowing when to come to an end. Take some inferior ' writer's works. Dismiss nearly all the adjectives ; when he * uses many substantives, either in juxtaposition, or in some dc- * pendenco on each other, reduce him to one ; do the same with the ' verbs ; finally omit all the adverbs ; and you will perhaps find out ' that this writer had something to say, which you might never ' have discovered, if you had not removed the superfluous words. ' Indeed in thinking of the kind of writing that is needed, I am ' reminded of a stanza in a wild Arab song, which runs thus ; — " Terrible he rodo along, " With bis Yemen sword for aid ; " Ornament it carried none, " But the notches on the blade. " So in the best writing, only that is ornament, which shows some " service done, which has some dint of thought about it." The great Roman critic observes, " To your expression be attentive, but about your matter be solicitous." And still fur- ther, in all compositions of a serious kind, the object, as Pope remarks, should invariably be to turn the attention " From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart." Since the days of the gi-eat philosophic critic of Pahjiyra, Longi- nus, down to those of Blair and the moderns, the words of the Jewish lawgiver, — " no common person," as Longinus designates Moses, all recognition of anything like Divine inspiration being, in his estimation, of course, quite out of the question, — the words of the Jewish lawgiver have been for ever quoted, as a Rotable instance of the true sublime ; yet words more simple in themselves could scarcely be uttered. As for what is calkdiYvQ sublhne style, observes Blair, it is for the most part a very bad one, and has no re- lation whatever to the real sublime. Persons are apt to imagine that magnificent words, accumulated epithets, and a certain swelling kind of expression, by rising above what :.s usual or vulgar, con- G5 tributes to, or even forms, tho subliino. — Nothing; can bo moro false : ** God said, let tlicn^ bo light, and thcro was light." And this, in the Hebrew, ns Moses wrote it, and in the Greek, is still simpler, and expressed in fewer words, " gcnesthophos kai vgencto " — '' Let there be light, and there was light." This is striking and sublime. But put it in what is commonly called the sublime ntylo : " The Sovereign Arbiter of Nature, by thepotentenergy of a single word, commanded the light to exist " ; and, as Boileau has well observed, the style indeed is raised, but the thought is fallen. In general, in all good writing, the sublime lies in the thought, not in the words ; and when the thought is truly noble, it will for the most part clothe itself in a native dignity of language. Milton is simple in the midst of all his grandeur ; and Demos- thenes in the midst of all his vehemence. Milton shows too how harmony of expression may be preserved even among mono- syllables, in Adam and Eve's Morning Hymn : " His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow, " Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye Pines, " With every plant, in sign of worship wave." Here we have three lines, of which tho second, although composed entirely of monosyllables, is the most harmonious; indeed, throughout the whole of this beautiful Hymn the abundance of monosyllabic words is very remarkable, several lines being made up entirely of them. Most of the passages from tl^e best authors, which are being forever quoted as remarkable for their force and beauty, have a chasteness and simplicity about them, even when combined with the greatest richness of fancy and strength of idea. For those who are fond of the sweet music of language, perhaps there ■ is hardly a sentence to be found more remarkable, than the well- known and often repeated one, with which Dr. Johnson commences his beautiful Tale of Rasselas ; and which is the more apposite for ,our present purpose, because, though not all expressed in simple Saxon, yet is encumbered with none of his sesquipedalian words : " Ye who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of hope, who expect that age will perform the promises of youth, and that the deficiencies of the 1 66 present day will bo supplied by the morrow, attend to the liiHtory of llassclas, IVince of Altyrtsinia." Hcarcely less known, and even more strikint*, are the words of Bishop Home, in whieh he deseribes the conclusion of his labours, in his I'reface to his much-valued Commentary on the Psalms : " And now could the Author flatter himaclf, that any one would take half the pleasure in readinji; the following exposition, which he has taken in writing it, he would not fear the loss of his labor. The employment detached him from the bustle and hurry of life, the din of politics and the noise of folly ; vanity and vexation flew nway for u season, care and disquietude cauie not near his dwelling. lie arose, fresh as the morning, to his task; thesilonceof the night invited him to j)ursuo it: and he can truly say that food and rest were not preferred before it. Every Psalm improved infinitely upon his ac((uaintance with it, and no one gave him uneasiness but the last ; for then ho grieved that his work was done. Happier hours than those which have been spent on these meditations on the Songs of Zion, he never expects to see in this world. Very pleasantly did they pass, and moved smoothly and swiftly along, for while thus engaged ho counted no time. They are gone, but they have left a relish and a fragrance upon the mind, and the remembrance of them is sweet." Simpler expressions it were hardly possible to use ; while he that uttered them must have learnt the sweet melody of words, as well as thought, from those lovely songs of Zion, he had been so fondly and profitably studying. I shall only give you one more passage, of a difierent cast of thought ; but still simple in diction, though vivid in the pic- ture set before you, and full of power. It is on the vanity of wordly greatness, from a sermon by Dr. Donne : " The ashes of an oak in the chimney are no cj)itaph of that oak to tell me how higli, or how large it was. It tells me not what flocks it sheltered while it stood ; nor what men it hurt when it fell. The dust of great persons is speechless too; it says nothing, it distinguishes nothing. As soon the dust of a wretch, whom thou wouldst not, as of a prince whom thou couldst not look upon, would trouble thine eyes if the wind blew it thither; and when a whirlwind hath blown the dust of a churchyard into the church, G7 uti«l tlio iiuin HW(H*p8 out tlio duHt of tho (ihurcli into the churcli- yard, who will uii flower, thi^4 is the yeoiuanly, this is tlu^ plebeian bran.' " Coleridji,o once, in n(»tiein^ this passage, added a brief, but expressive, " very luMiutiful iiKhjed." It' beauty and force of expression can thus be cond)ine<], b(>th in jioetry and prose, with much Hiniplicity, it is well to be guarded against that tinsel splendor of language, which some authors iHJrpc- tually affect ; but which is so often very contemptible. It were well if this could always be ascribed to the riial overflowing of a rich inuigination. We should then have something to amuse us, if wo found little to instruct. But the! worst is, that, with such frothy writers, it is a luxuriancy of words, not of limey. We see u labored attempt to rise to a splendor of composition, of which they have formed to themselves some loose idea ; but having no strength of genius for attaining it, they endeavour to supply the defect by poetical words, by cold exclanmtions, by common place figures, and every thing that has the appearance of pomp and magnificence. It has escaped such persons that sobriety in orna- ment, an essential element of good Taste, is the great secret tor rendering it pleasing, wherever it can be justly appreciated ; and that without a foundation of good sense and solid thought, the most florid style is but a childish imposition on the public. The public, however, are but too apt to be imposed upon, and too often ready to be caught, at first siglit, with whatever is dazzling and gaudy. But it is impossible, as passing time warns me, to do more in a single Lecture of this description, than in a very general way to offer such remarks, as may be suggestive rather, than completely to discuss so wide a subject. I wish I may, in this respect, have succeeded in even a little measure. But why should wc be thus solicitous for the development of a true Taste in the works of nature and of art, and for the appreciation of a correct Style in Literature ? As a Christian Minister I would say : because, in doing this, we are cultivatmg those higlier powers with which the Almighty has endowed us ; and giving proper scope and exorcise to faculties, which were surely intended for use, and meant to be improved. [J 68 Our merely animal appetites we share in common with the creatures of a lower order of being ; but, in all that pertains to the exercise of rca.son and intellectual gifts, man stands alone. And in propor- tion as we can enter into, i.ud duly appreciate the finest works of Art and Literature, and acquire a correct Taste, and see their real points of excellence, we are thus creating food for the strengthening and enjoyment of some of our bett?r ^'fts, for the possession of which we must, one day, render account. Such pursuits will always, in their degree, have a tendency to raise the tone and cha- racter of a people ; and leave them less time, less inclination, and less had Taste, for the indulgence of mere sensual pleasures, vice, and, what always leads to vice, unoccupied time and vacancy of mind. Amusement and recreations of some kind we all want; and we have different vocations in life, wherein some are called more directly to work with the hand, and some are called more directly to work with the head. But it would not be much out of place, if we all remembered in maturer age, applying it to our altered circumstances, what perhaps most of us have, often too thoughtlessly, repeated in our childhood, out of one of Dr. Watt's simplest little Hymns : In books or works or healthful play, May my first years be past, That I may give for every day Some good account at last. In the simplicity of the diction we forget the greatness of the thought. And having referred to the example of the bee, which gathers food from every flower, and usefully employs its time, and which may teach us the duty of gathering-in wholesome food and improvement from all the works of God, the Hymn concludes with what is of universal application to young and old, and will refer as well to idle heads and tongues, as to idle hands : In works of labor or of skill I would be busy too : For Satan finds someTaischief still For idle hands to do. 69 Note. — It may interest some readers to examine thu following " Defi- nitions of Taste," which I have noted down since I delivered this Lecture : — "The best definition of Taste was giv^en by the earliest editor of Spencer, who proved himself to possess any, (Mr. Hughes), when he called it a kind of 'extempore judgment.' Burke's view was not dissi- milar. He explained it to ^^e ' an instinct, which immediately awakens the emotion of pleasure or dislike.' Akenside is clear, as he is poetical) on the question : — / ' What, then, is Taste, but those iutomal powers. Active and strong, and feelingly alive To each flue impulse ? A discerning sense Of decent and sublime, with quick disgust For things deformed, or disarranged, or gross In species. This, nor gems, nor stores of gold, Nor public state, nor culture can bestow, But God alone, when first His sacred hand Imprints the secret bias of the soul.' " We may, therefore, consider Taste to be a settled habit of discernin g faults and excellencies in a moment, — the mind's independent expression of approval or aversion. It is that faculty by which we discover and enjoy the beautiful, the picturesque, and the sublime in literature, art, and nature ; which recognizes a noble thought, as a virtuous mind welcomes a virtuous sentiment, by an involuntaxy glow of satisfaction. But while the principle of perception is inherent in the soul, it requires a certain amount of knowledge to draw out and direct it. The uttermost ignorance has no curiosity. Captain Cook met with some savages who entirely disregarded his ship — the first they had ever seen — as it sailed by them. * * * Taste is not stationary. * * « * A taste enriched by observation and training, sensitive even to the tremble of the balance by which the scale is suspended, is probably one of the most desirable endowments of the mind. It enjoys some of the humbler qualities of invention." — Willmott's " Pleasures of Literature." The late John Bowdler, jr., in one of his essays, (a Review of Dugald Stewart's Philosophical Essays), after giving the definitions of Blair and Akenside, says : — " According to both these writers. Taste is merely, or exactly synonymous with Sensibility. Mr. Burke long ago objected to these and similar definitions ; and Mr. Stewart has satisfactorily shewn that they are erroneous. Taste and Sensibility are certainly not con- ceived to be synonymous terms in the common apprehensions of man- H '1 70 kind. Sensibility is often possessed, even to excess, by persons who are very deficient in Taste. • • • • • Mr. Stewart's account of this power is to the following effect : * In objects presented to the mind an indefinite variety of circumstances may concur in producing that agree- able impression to which all give the name of Beauty, Yet the impres- sion, as far as our consciousness can judge of it, is simple and uncom- pounded. It is impossible, then, for the most acute Sensibility, united with the greatest sagacity, to say, upon a single experiment, what are the circumstances in the supposed object to which we are chiefly indebted for the agreeable impression produced ; what those, if any, that may be considered neutral ; and what tliose which tend to diminish and injure the general effect. It is only by hatching attentively a great variety of experiments upon different things that we can arrive at that discriminating knowledge which enables us to separate, in every expres- sion, those circumstances which have been favourable to the general result from those which have been injurious to it. This power of dis- crimination we call Taste. It supposes of necessity some sensibility to pleasure and pain ; but it is formed to the perfection, in which we see it often possessed, chiefly by diligence in multiplying, and accuracy in watching, those intellectual experiments from whence the materials which inform and exercise it are supplied. Mr. Stewart says : * It is observed by Shenstone, that good Taste and good-nature are inseparably united ; and although the observation is by no means true, when thus stated as an unqualified proposition, it will be found to have a sufficient foundation in fact to deserve the attention of those who have a pleasure in studying the varieties of human character.' " Mrs. Piozzi remarks : " It is observable that the further people ad- vance in elegance, the less they value splendour; distinction be'ng at last the positive thing, which mortals elevated above competency naturally desire. Necessity must, we know, be first supplied ; conve- nience then requires to be contented ; but so soon as men can find means after that period to make themselves eminent for Taste, they learn to despise those paltry distinctions which riches alone can bestow." LECTUEE IV. "SOME RECOLlECTIOl OF A VISIT TO MBOTSFORD. AND OP SIR WALTER SCOTT Al HIS COilEIIPORARIES: DELIVERED BEFORE THE CnURCII OF EKLAl ASSOCIATION FOR YOUNG Ml IN THE BONAVENTURE HALL, ON MONDAY EVENING. THE lOTn OF JANUARY, 1859. it ffi i!i About three weeks ago, I delivered* the first of a Course of Lec- tures before such of the members of this Association as attend the Bible class ; and this evening I arn to commence another Course of a more general character, in the delivering of which we shall also have the assistance of some of the talent and learning of our Lay brethren. Notwithstanding the severity of the cold this day, unprecedented for the last thirty years, I am pleased to see so many assembled on this occasion ; and I trust that the Course arranoed by the Association, and thus auspiciously commenced, will be suc- cessful, not only in a pecuniary point of view, and thereby en- creasing the funds at its command, but also in providing the means of usefully and pleasantly passing an evening — attracting a fair attendance of auditors, who may receive instruction in many use- ful general subjects, and an additional incentive to seek the im- provement of their minds, and the cultivation of their tastes. And I do feel that if this end be answered, we shall not have altogether spent our labors in vain. With this object in view, I propose on l^. n the present occasion to put together a few remarks respecting some of our modern English poets : rather, however, by way of anecdote, than as entering upon any general disquisition respecting them, but still giving occasionally a few quotations for the purpose of illustra- tion. It has been observed by a late English critic that, whatever be the cause, the effect appears undeniable, that we shall generally look in vain for satisfactory lives of the poets of the highest order : such lives as may furnish a real account, not merely a conjectural solution, of the chief facts in their history — their works. Of Homer for instance, who can afl&rm anything positive beyond the simple matters in the fragment preserved by Thucydides : that he was blind, that he resided in Chios, that he exercised the profession of aoidos (minstrel or bard), and in that character went occasionally (amongst other places) to Delos ? Of the great father of tragic poetry, j^Eschylus, we can hardly be said to knov> more facts ; but those which are preserved to us are more important, they are the critical points of his life — that he served actively as a soldier, that he fought at Salamis, that he invented additions of no small moment to the mechanical and scenical part of tragedy, that finding himself e Hnsed by Sophocles he retired in his old age from Athens to Sicily ; and lastly, and perhaps we may say chiefly, with regard to his cast of poetry, that he was a disciple of the Pythagorean school. The histories of Pindar, Lucretius, Virgil, and our own Spenser and Shakspeare, so much of them as is certainly known, might be relat- ed in as few and as brief sentences as these. Our modern poets suffer rather from an inconvenience ofa different kind : not always happy in their biographers, the public are too often wearied with voluminous and uninteresting correspondence, and minute details, which are not given with spirit, and have no tendency even to illustrate character. Consequently, though their biographies are written in fullest detail, they are comparatively but little read ; and thus much of the interest that might be attached to their works is lost. This is very much the case with recent biographies of Camp- bell, Wordsworth, Southey and Moore. Indeed, it requires no small judgment and peculiar talent to compose a successful and characteristic Biography, specially of an eminent poet. 78 '1; Wlien I first began to be interested in such matters, Gray, and Goldsmith, and Cowper had passed away, — they were of a previous generation, — but Wordsworth, Coleridp;e, Soutlicy, Byron, Scott, Campbell, Moore, and Rogers, were all in the zenith of their fame. Every year some new work, from one or other of them, issued from the press, to excite and interest the public mind. And what an illus- trious company! We shall seldom find, in any age or country, so many names of high rank as contemporary poets. But all of them have now passed away from amongst us — all their pedestals have been vacated by them ; and there have, alas ! risen up no successors to fill their places. From such a height we are sadly fallen ; and except Tennyson, who still is living, we can scarcely be said to retain a single name of high poetical fame, unless Macaulay's fine spirit-stirring Ballads shall remind us, that, though lie is an historian and politician, he is also a poet. With some of those persons, whose names I mentioned just now, it so happened that I was more or less personally acquainted, or with their families, and was brought, in a certain way, into connection with others ; which gave me a still further interest in everything relating to them. And there is certainly always a considerable curiosity excited, and not an improper one, to see and know person- ally those who have, from any cause, achieved for themselves an eminent name. It is true, and especially in the case of great authors, that when our curiosity is gratified, we experience at times considerable disappointment ; since those, who have won our ad- miration or our reverence by their writings, often fail to realize by their conversation our expectations of their talents, or of their appearance and manners ; but still we cannot but wish to see and to know the great occupants of the Temple of Fame. Now Campbell I knew very intimately from a very early age, and we were often guests together at the same friend's house. Southey I have met quietly in private society ; Rogers often in more general company. I succeeded Crabbe as Rector of the Parish of Trow- bridge, in Wiltshire ; and though I never saw the poet himself, I became well acquainted with his family, and entered upon all the fresh reminiscences of his daily life. Moore was living a few miles oflF from me in the same county, close to Lord Lansdowne's at Bo- s' reccded it, and had already gain',d for liim a world-wide reputation. '' (Jertrude of Wyoming" was a tale of transatlantic life, transatlantic, of course I mean, in relation to England ; and true and expressive are many of the pictures given of the rich and varied landscape at and about " Wyoming," which was a settlement that liad been destroyed by the Indians. It begins, "On Susquelianna's side fair Wyoming 1 Although the wlld-flowcr on thy niin'd wall, And roofless homes, a sad remembrance bring Of what thy gentle people did befall ; Yet thou wert once the loveliest land of all That see the Atlantic wave their morn restore." Afterwards the poet, having again mentioned tlie river, describeis. the scenery in its neighbourhood : " Yet wanted not the eye for scope to muse, Nor vistas open'd by the wandering stream ; Both where at evening Alleghany views, Through ridges, burning in her western beam, Lake after lake interminably gleam ; And past those settlers' haunts the eye might roam Where earth's unliving silence all would seem ; Save where on rocks the beaver built his dome, Or buffalo remote low'd far from human home. But silent not that adverse eastern path. Which satv Aurora's hills th' horizon crown ; There was the river heard in bed of wrath, (A precipice of foam from mountains brown,) Like tumults heard from some far distant town • But softening in approach he left his gloom, And murmur'd pleasantly, and laid him down To kiss those easy curving banks of bloom, That lent the windward air an exquisite perfume." m And further ou ho notices, — " Tlje winglct of the fairy humming-bird, Like utoma ut' the raitibuw lluttoring round." But we must not linger any longer by 8u8 ^ W AhT S* ^ -y '/ HiotDgraphic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) STi-WSOa ''I) 4r The slattghter'd chiefs, tiie mortal jAT, The havoc of the feudal vri, , Shall never, never be forgot I " ,^ And as evidencing a different cast of the Poet's mind, I will read a few lines, with which this same poem concludes, being an Eng- lish metrical version of an ancient Latin hymn : Dies irce, dies ilia. « That day of wrath, that dreadful day. When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay ? How shall he meet that dreadful day ? When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll ; ' When louder yet, and yet more dread, Swells the high trump that wakes the dead: Oh ! on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes from clay, Be Thou the trembling sinner's stay. Though heaven and earth shall pass away !" But perhaps the most remarkable effect of the writings of Scott was the way in which he kindled an enthusiasm about, and gave a wide historical interest to, all the border scenery, and to the va- rious events that occurred in those districts. It was not only the lovely scenes of Loch Katrine and the Trossaehs that became populariAd in consequence of the inspiring poetry of " The Lady of the Lake," or the venerable ruins of Melrose that travellers hastened to see by moonlight, because Soott bid them view it at such an hour, but there is hardly a locality which has not its le- gend, and the magic power of the wizard of AWbotsford has in- vested them all with a world-wide reputation. His own estate has many and famous spots of this kind. Just above the house was the conclusion of the battle of Melrose fought in 1526, between the Earls of Angus and Home, and the two Chiefs of the House of Kerr on one side, and Suocleuch on the other, in sight of young King James, the possession of whose person was the object of the contest. In the names of Skirmish-field, Charge-law, &c., various \^ ; 95 aneidents of the fight have found a lasting record ; and the spot where the retainers of Buecleueh terminated the pursuit by the mortal wound of Kerr of Cesaford (ancestor of the Dukes of Rox- bui^), has always been called Point Turnagain. But it has now received a special mark by which to arrest attention, becau^ Scott has alluded to it as the spot, . " Where gallant Gessford's life-blood dear Beek'd on dark Elliott's border spear." It was a favourite object of Scott's to buy any properties in the neighbourhood, which, beside the convenience of their situation, had been the scene of any incident in history or of any popular legend. And often, in effecting this, he acted the part of Glaucus in the Iliad of Homer, when he exchanged his golden armour for the less -costly suit of Diomede, being made to pay most extravagantly for his fancies. But a purchase that exceedingly pleased him, was one that was said to be the scene of Thomas the Rhymer, or Thomas of Ereildoun's interviews with the Queen of the Fairies. And in time he succeeded in adding to his property all those legendary haunts of True Thomas, as he was called, and the whole ground of the battle of Melrose from Skirmish-field to point Turnagain. The house at Abbotsford was, I think, hardly equal to what we are led to expect from the description given in his life, and the site is far from being the best that might have been selected ; but the general scenery of the neighbourhood is verv beautiful, some of it very grand, and the charm of interest ea.sL over the whole not often surpassed. Before closing this brief notice of these great names in the list of English poets, I wish to mention also one or two of the other sex, whose writings well deserve our attention, and with whom I had the pleasure of being acquainted. About twenty years ago there was an article in the Qtirterly Review on "Modern British Poetesses," nine of whom were mentioned. The reviewer, after noticing them each in detail, bound them up as he said in a wreath; and under the similitude of flowers, gave us the type of each. There was a Rose, Wild Angelica, Passion Flower, Roman Nettle, Magnolia Grandiflora, Meadow-Sage, Blue-belle, Violet, and Hearts- n! 96 ease. Of these I was acquainted with three,— the Magnolia, Mea- dow-Sage, and Blue-belle. I will not venture to assert how far they are all likely to have achieved any enduring fame by their poetry; but one of them, the Meadow-Sage, will have an additional reason for being remembered, because of her husband's name ; since, soon after I saw her, she became the wife of Southey. And she was the patient and kind nurse of him during the sad latter years of his life, when his mind failed him, and ho was left so dependent on the care of others. Her maiden name was Caroline Bowles, and the following lines entitled " The Pauper's Death-bed" shew very considerable power, and deep feeling : " Tread softly — ^bow the head-— lu reverent silence bow : " ' No passing bell doth toll, Yet an immortal soul * Is passing now. " r.: Stranger I however great, With lowly reverence bow, There's one in that poor shed- One by that paltry bed — Greater than thou. ■.'>1.- Beneath that beggars roof Lo ! Death doth keep his state Enter — ^no crowds attend — Enter — no guards defend J7ii$ palace gate. That payement damp and cold, No smiling courtiers tread ; One silent woman stands, Lifting with meagre hands, A dying head. : '.'i:: ,1 No mingling voices sound— An infant's wail alone ; A 86b suppressed — agen That short deep gasp, and then- The parting groan. i . m Oh change I — Oh wondrous change I t. Burst are the prison bars : ' This moment /Aere so low, ; So atjonised, and now , Beyond the stars I Oh Change — stupendous change — There lies the soulless cloud ; ,' The Sun eternal breaks — The new immortal wakes— i Wakes with his God." > In conclusion I will give you a few lines, written when she was ten years old, by the daughter of a clergyman, who lived near us in Wiltshire. I have other verses of hers which are exceedingly good, though not evincing the same power of thought and descrip- tion as these which were written much earlier. I think she is still living, but I have never heard that, as she grew up, her poeti- cal talents were further developed. As a child they were most surprising. She is I believe a cousin of Wordsworth's, and really one might almost think she had a portion of his spirit, when she composed, not altogether so unlike what might have been the fruits of his muse, the following lines, of the genuineneSvS of which there is not the least shadow of a doubt : — ^'^ On a sound resembling thunder, heard on a cloudless day in summer. It seemed to traverse the whole heavens, and was indescribably grand." "Where art thou, thou mysterious sound, With thy low, deep murmur gathering round, - i Slow rolling o'er the bright summer skies, As their vault in its tranquil beauty lies ? ' , Thou fliest not on the breeze's wing : No breath doth the rose's perfume bring : Thou camest not in the thunder cloud : The heavens no gloomy vapours shroud. Thou doth not spring from tempest's ire : No deadly flames of forked fire Herald thee thro' the firmament. Whence dost thou come, and wherefore sent Would I were skilled in mystic lore ? Would I thro' star-lit paths might soar! 98 Oh 1 were I not chained to this parent earth, Sound 1 1 would know thy wondrouB birth. Bay, in some bright revolving star, Are countless myriads waging war ? Art thou the rush of their armies fiylng ? Art thou the groans of their millions dying ? Or, still more dread is thy sound—Oh ! say- That of worlds like ours which pass away ? In thee is heard their heavens last roll, Sh.'iveling away like a parched scroll ? And even now, whilst I hear thy roaring. Are myriads on myriads of spirits soaring. Soaring to God ? — or doomed— Ah me ! Unknown and nnguessed may thy secrets be !" LECTUBE V. ON THE STATE AND PROSPECTS OF SCIENCE AND LITERATURE IN MONTREAL. DBLIVSRKD 2N THB LECTUBE BOOM OP THE MONTREAL NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY, AS THB CONCLUDING LECTURE OF THE WINTER COURSE, ON TUESDAY EVENING, APRIL 5. 1889. When God had finished the work of creation, having, as the chief and last portion thereof, made man in his own image. He then blessed Adam and his wife Eve, and said unto them, " Be fruit- ful and multiply and replenish the earth and subdue it;" and again, after the flood, when Noah and his family, the sole survi- vors, came forth out of the Ark, God spake to them and said, " Be ye fruitful and multiply, and bring forth abundantly in the earth, and multiply therein." The earth was made as the habi- tation of man ; subject to the supreme law of his maker, he was to have it in possession, to occupy and to subdue it. As mankind began to increase and multiply, it was God's purpose that they were to spread themselves over the earth; and the sacred historian, in Genesis, informs us, how this began to be carried into eflFect : acquainting ue after what method the three branches of Noah's posterity did distinctly plant or settle themselves at the first, in 100 three distinct tracts of the earth. For that the first settlements were made, not by more chance or confusedly, but a^er somo regular method, is evident from the sacred history ; wherein wo are told, first as to the sons of Japhet, the eldest branch of Noah's posterity, that " by these were the isles of the Gentiles divided in their lands; every one after his tongue, after their families, in their nations;" and so also the same is said of the descendants of Shem and of Ham. In many of the colonies formed by thriving nations, as recorded in ancient history, something of the same order and method seema to have been observed ; of which the Phoenicians, who settled in Africa at Carthage and the adjacent parts ; and the Greeks, who settled in Sicily and parts of Italy, were marked instances. Whole sections, tribes or families, led by some of their most eminent pub- lic men, seem to have gone forth together, carrying with them, afl it were, in miniature, the likeness of the parent State, with all its advanced civilization and institutions. In modern times colonies have been established with less system; and have been rather looked upon, simply as a means of easing the parent state of an over-burthened population at home, than with a view to the well being and due organization of the new countries. The conse- quence has been that the vast majority of those, who thus seek a new home in some distant land, are of one particular class ; — those whom poverty or necessity of any kind induces to seek elsewhere a better fortune, than either Providence has given or their own ex- ertions have earned for them in their native country. And thus it is, that, though brought into constant and quick communication with advanced civilization and settled institutions in the older countries, the population of such new settlements are placed at great disadvantage, having to work out for themselves the forma- tion of their own character, and to raise their own institutions, whether religious, political, or scientific. This development of national character and formation of institutions may eventually, where there is some sterling worth in the people, be most success- fully achieved ; but it cannot but be a work of deep interest to all who have at heart their well-being as a nation, a work that is en- compassed with many difficulties, and only to be accomplished by much perseverance and earnest zeal and hopeful patience. 101 \ And such must bo the view which wc must take of Canada, and Buch the temper, in which all^ as good citizens, should endeavour to serve the State. I shall not now advert to the difliculties ex- perienced, in that department, with which I am more immediately connected, of continuously providing the ministrations of religion for the large immigrant population, who have been flocking into this Province in successive years, bringing with them no means of grace for themselves, and often evidencing little desire to accept them, when provided for them. Nor shall I allude to the political problem, which our legislators and statesmen are attempting to solve, and for the solution of which I trust wise and honest men will be raised up amongst us, equal to meet the difficulties of tl.eir country's need. But I shall, as bearing more pertinently upon the subject of these Lectures and this Institution, advert to " the State and Prospects of Science and Literature in Montreal;" and while pointing out the ob«tacles that impede our advance, do my best to encourage our efforts towards the attainment of a higher measure of success. • Whatever may be the inducements, which may tempt men of active habits and energetic wills to seek their fortunes, either aa merchants, as agriculturists, or as politicians, in this growing coun- try, and however a missionary zeal may excite others to labour for the spiritual welfare of their fellow-creatures : yet it is natural that the least likely to be attracted here are men of retired and studious habits, devoted to the investigations of science, and the cultivation of letters. Neither have we yet had raised up amongst us a class of persons of independent means, who can follow at will the inclination of their minds, and give themselves up to what are felt to be, in a certain sense, unremunerative pursuits. And our en- dowments for their encouragement, unaided as they are by either liberal grants of public money or private subscriptions, are so small that they have scarcely began to take effect. We must not be sur- prised then, if hitherto we have not had any great results, in these departments, of which to boast ; and yet it is no small satisfaction to believe that some foundations are being laid, which will produce good fruit, and are already giving proofs of what shall be here, after. ^r ^^ 102 If wo mark the progress of other countries, Himilarly Rituatcd with ourselvoH, wc shall find that they have had the same adverse circumitances to battle with ; and that they have neither been disL couraged by them, nor given up the struggle without achieving great and manifold success. It is not so very long ago, only as far back as the year 1820, that the Kev. Sydney Smith, in an article in the Edinburgh lleview, wishing to compare the progress that had been made in the United States, from the date of their Independence, with the Science and Literature of England, during the same period, wrote as follows : " The Americans are a brave, in- dustrious and acute people ; but they have hitherto given no indica- tions of genius, and made no approaches to the heroic, either in their morality or their character. * * During the thirty or forty years of their Independence, they have done absolutely nothing for the Sciences, for the Arts, for Literature, or even for the Statesman* like studies of Politics or Political Economy. Confining ourselves to our own country, and to the period that has elapsed, since they had an independent existence, where are their Foxes, their Burkes, their Shcridaus, their Windhams, their Homers, their Wilberforces ? vhere are their Arkwrights, their Watts, their Davys ? their Robertsons, Blairs, Stewarts, Paleys and Molthuses? their Porsons, Parrs, Burneys or Bloomfields? their Scotts, Rogers, Campbells, Byrons, Moores, or Crabbes ? their Siddons, Kembles, Keans, or O'Neils? their Wilkies, Lawrences, Chan- treys. * * * In the four quarters of the Globe, who reads an American Book ? or goes to an American play ? or looks at an American picture or statue ? What does the world yet owe to American Physicians or Surgeons ? What new substances have their Chemists discovered, or what old ones have they analyzed ? What new constellations have been discovered by the telescopes of Americans ? What have they done in the Mathematics ?" If, however, with some near approach to the actual truth such a dispan^ng statement might have been made in the year 1820, whftt a marvellous change have the subsequent years produced I It is just thirty-eight years ago, quite within the memory of many (^ lis, siooe Sydney Smith thus wrote ; — and now in jakaost every de- partment of Literature, of Science and even of the fine Arts, the 108 (Tnittid StatoH may fairly challenge comparison, not only with England, but with tho whole civilized world. Her poeto, IiiHtoriun», philoBophorH, naturalists, geologiutH, bear namcH every where known and honored ; their works are in every library, and have taken their place a» standards and authorities in their sovernl depart- ments ; and is tliero any reason why we should despair that the (/auada of the present generation, may thus look forward to tho day, and that within the lifetime of many young and earnest spirits now amongst us, when she too may have a literature of her own, and names emblazoned on the rolls of science, which shall mijJce their nation known and honored in the great commonwealth of letters ? Why should this be more hopeless in our case, than it was in the case of tho United States, as described in 1820? One great advantage was certainly possessed by the United States, even as far back m the date just mentioned, which we do not ])os9ess at present, and it is one that has been afforded to them since that time in a still greater measure; I allude to the number and excellence of the'r public Libraries. From a statement which I saw some little time since, I find that there are now in the United States, 50 Libraries containing upwards of 15,000 volumes each ; and six of them with over 60,000. Some of these, including that at Harvard College, Boston, which is the largest of all, with 112,000 volumes, have been in existence for a long period ; and must afford immense advantages to students in every department. While in the whole of Canada, with the exception of perhaps the Library of the Houses of Parliajnent, now just in course of forma- tion, there is not one Library, public or private, that deserves notice, as supplying the wants of Literature or Science, or to which reference can be made, in case of need, with any reasonable hope of finding required information on any particular subject. One of the finest Libraries in the States, the use of which is given most freely to the public, was, with the building in which it is placed, the munificent gift of a private individual — the late Mr. Aster ; and <^ntains upwards of 80,000 volumes. I hope the time is com- ing when wealthy citizens of Montreal will, in increasing numbers, thus show their affection for their coontry, by assisting in provid- ing useful Institutions for the benefit of the people. And though m^ 104 wc cannot yet boa«tof bcinf!; in any marked Rcnsc a literary people in Canada, yet there are evident proofw of great and continual im- provement in this particular. In a lecture which I delivered in the early part of the year 1855, I took occaMion to remark upon the very larj^e increase shown every year in the returns made to Government of the books imported into Canada ; and that, while the total imports of the years 1 852-3 showed an increase of alwut 37J per cent, in the livtter year above the former, the value of thn books imjiorttd showed very nearly as great a proportion of the whole— being £10a,253 in 1853, against £75,100 in 1852. This sum however we find had risen in 185() to £159,156 ; and though since then it has been somewhat less, as, owing to the diffi- culties of trade, have been the imports of every kind, yet still keeping far above what it used to bo in former years. And in matters of science, I waa pleased to find, on reading the account of the interesting proceedings which took place on the occasion of the first opening these New Buildings, (at which I was much disap- pointed that I could not be present, having been prevented by illness) that Professor Hall of Albany, himself occupying a distin- guished position in the ranks of science, and well acquainted too with Canada, bore honorable testimony to the progress that had been making here. He felt warranted in saying that, during the last fifteen years, no state or country, on this or on the other side the Atlantic, had made more rapid progress in scientific investiga. tions than Canada had done during that period. He referred more especially to the department of Geology : and I believe that in this department more care has been taken and greater results produced than in any other ; but it has not been to the exclusion of others. I might refer to this very course of Lectures, and others which have preceded it in former years, to show that there are amongst us those, who are well qualified to treat other subjects, whether of Natural History, Astronomy, and the like, with much knowledge and talent. And our bi-monthly periodical " The Ca- nadian Naturalist," the papers in which are all contributed by mem- bers of this Society, is surpassed in excellence, as I believe, by no publication of the kind on this continent ; and has been repeatedly noticed with ^ probation in England. 105 It is a subject for much siitisfnction to observe that tlinrc in an cncreasing eari'cstncss ihuH beinp manifcHtcd amonj^rit us for the diligent and the «//«/mia/tc study of particular branches of science ; and that in botuny and entomology and meteorology, but especially in geology, (to which last, as I mentioned, Professor Hall particu- larly alluded, giving high praise to Canadian geologists) we arc making very considerable progress. Mare popular lectures on such subjects, or a superficial attention to them as matters of amuse- ment, can only be really useful signs, when there is a stronger and fuller current running beneath ; and when we can feel assured that we have some of our members who are really masters of the science, and able and willing to direct aright the pop- lar mind. And here I would observe on the great importance at all times of accurate and systematic study on any subjects. It is remarka- ble in general society, how comparatively rare it is to meet with people, who have really made themselves masters of any particular subject ; but when they have, and can give reliable and valuable information, they become then, in that department, an important authority, and worth listening to in society. It used to be said that a man of one book, the " homo unius libri," was a dangerous man ; that is, a person who was really master of one book,#ven if only one, was dangerous to argue with respecting it : as he would be almost sure to overpower you. And so in public life, in Parlia- ment, if instead of talking superficially and often foolishly on any, or every question, a member is known to have made some one im- portant question his particular study, he will be listened to with respect and attention, because he can then really give some reliable and useful information. And so in every case, if besides general gossip and passing remarks, people can bring into society, on any subject, really accurate and sensible information, wb'ther of litera- ture, or science, or trade, it is adding to the geriei "^ stock, and advancing the intelligence of all. Sometimes, however, people get up facts or information in a dry mechanical way, without being able to f zeroise their minds, and, by intruding- their particular line into the conversation on all occasions, become tedious and disagre- able, I was lately reading in a little piece of American autobio- graphy, an amusing account of the artificial way in which informar 106 tion is supposed sometimes to be got vp for use. '' I found (waye the writer) the other Jay, ti gontlcuiun very fine in conversational in- formation. The talk ran vpon nuiuntains. lie was wonderfully well acquainted with the leading faets about the Andes, the Apen- nines, and the Appal acliians; he had nothing particular to say iibout Ararat, Ben Nevis, and various other mountains, that were mentioned. By and bye some revolutionary anecdote came up, and ho showed singular familitu-ity with the lives of the Adamses, and give many details relating to Major Andre. A point of Natural History being suggested, he gave an excellent account of the air bladder of fishes. He was very full upon the subject of iigriculture : but retired from the conversation wlxeu horticulture was introduced in the discussion. So he seemed well acquainted with the geology of Anthracite, but did not pretend to know any- thing of other kinds cf coal. There was something so odd about the extent and limitations of his knowledge, that I suspected all at (d's God ?" But his mother had by this time got to the end of her resources, so she struck him in the face, and bade him be silent. He was silent ; but he thouii;ht within himself, " I will acknow- ledge no other God than he who created the heaven and earth, and all that is in them."^- This seems the just and reasonable conclusion of the contem- plation of the works of creation, whether we look at " the heavens which declare the glory of God and the firmament which showeth his handy work" ; or examine the formation of the earth on which we have our habitation, or the exquisite workmanship in the structure of the veget:'.ble or animal creation. There is a very touching but familiar juiecdote told of Mungo Park, the celebrated African traveller, which illustrates tliis most happily. ►Stri})ped and plundered of his clothes in Africa, he sat down in despair. The nearest European settlement was 500 miles off. What could he do ? In tlie agony of his grief and desolation, he hnppened to look upon a small moss in flower. " (Jan the Being" he thought, " who planted, watered and brouglit to perfection, in this obscure part of the world, a thing which appears of so small importance, look with unconcern upon the situation and sufferings of creatures formed after his own image ?" The meditation restored his cour- age ; he went on his way comforted and rejoicing, and soon arrived at a small village. In many departments we now can read and understand this record of God in his works, in a way that was not open to those who lived in former times. In the present state to which science has attained, nothing is more curious, than to look back at the rules, which some of the wisest ancient philosophers laid down. As- tronomy — now exhibiting the maximum of perfection, with the largest and most exact power of predicting future phenomena, which human science has ever attained — was pronounced by Socrates (always spoken of as the wisest .of all the ancient philoso- * Kitto's Bible Illustrations. Ill pliers) to ho amon^-st the divine uiystcrics, wliicli it was impossible to understand, and needless to investigate — as Anaxagoras, tlie master of Pericles, had foolishly pretended to do. He admitted that there was advantage in knowing enough of the movements of the lieavonly bodies to serve as an index to the change of the sea- sons, and as guides for voyages, journeys by land or night watches. But this much (he said) might et\sdy bo obtained from pilots and watchmen, while all beyond was nothing but waste of valuable time, exhausting that mental effort, which ought to be employed in pixi- fitable ac(piisitions. He reduced geometry to its literal meaning of land measuring, necessary so far as to enable any one to proceed correctly in the purchase, sale, or division of land, which any man of conmion attention might do almost without a teacher ; but silly and worthless, if carried beyond to the study of complicated dia- grams, llespceting Arithmetic, he gave the same qualified per- mission of study; but as to general physics, or the study of nature, he discarded it altogether.* And slow and laborious were the advances made in unfolding those hidden mysteries, which now are so largely revealed. It was full 2000 years after the time of Socrates, before Copernicus over- threw tlie greater part of the anti