PROCEEDINGS irtg- SUBSCRIBERS TO THE PUBLIC LIBRARY CAPE TOWN, CAPE OF GOOD HOPE HELD ON SATURDAY, THE UTH MAY, 1864. . J.Ju pujto, Jftmflf |>f ototUtt CAPE TOWN : SAUL SOLOMON & CO., STEAM PRINTING OFFICE. 1864 II HON. W. PORTER, JOHN FAIRBAIRN, HON. MR. JUSTICB WATER- MEYER, MR. PROFESSOR CAMERON, R. BAYLEY, ESQ., GEORGE FRERE, ESQ., (Treasurer), W. HIDDINGH, ESQ., S. SOLOMON, ESQ., MR. PROFESSOR NOBLE, MAJOR LONGMORE. I J. C. GIE, ESQ. A True Copy: F. MASKEW, Librarian. REPORT. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, The Committee in presenting their report of the last year's proceedings, have much pleasure in recording that, by the liberality of the inhabitants of this city, they have been enabled to complete, in a manner suited to its value and impor- tance, their arrangements for the reception of the Library presented by His Excellency Sir George Grey, and that the " Grey Library " was opened to the public on the 23rd of April last. The Committee have also much pleasure in congratu- lating the subscribers to the Library, and the public generally, upon the very valuable addition that has been made to the literary stores of this institution by the presentation of the " Porter Collection." Your Com- mittee had more than ordinary pleasure in accepting this trust for the public ; for the gentleman in whose honour it was presented, and whose name it bears, has been intimately connected with this institution ever since his arrival in the colony, and has always taken a lively interest in the welfare of the Public Library. The fund for the purchase of this useful collection of books, consisting of several hundred volumes in Law, Literature, and Science, and which in a measure fills up deficiencies hitherto existing in several departments, was raised by public subscription among the friends and admirers of Mr. Porter, as a mark of esteem for the many services rendered by him during his residence in this colony. The books were selected by a joint committee of the " Porter Testimonial Fund" and the Library, with the A 2 1223284 kind and able assistance of Mr. J. van Rees Hoets, and when the collection is open to the public it will be available for use in the same manner as the other books in the Library, excepting such rare and costly works of reference as it has been usual for the Committee to withhold from the risks attendant on circulation. The Committee are also greatly indebted to Messrs. McMillan & Co , of Cambridge, for the zeal and interest with which they have gratuitously co-operated with Mr. Hoets in the selection and purchase of the books which form the " Porter Collection." The accession of books during the past year has been as follows : Vols. Miscellaneous Theology 12 Political Economy, Jurisprudence, &c. 11 Science and the Arts ... ... ... 23 Works of Amusement ... ... ... 106 Belles Lettres, &c 50 History 49 Voyages and Travels ... ... ... 44 Biography ... ... ... ... 30 Miscellaneous ... ... ... ... 14 Total 339 Amongst them will be found several valuable works presented to the Library by the Royal Society, the Royal Geographical Society, the Society of Arts, London (through their Chairman, Wm. Hawcs, Esq.), Bishop Colenso, Drs. Hutchinson and Eveleigh, George Hodgskin, Esq., of London, Edward Chiappini, Esq., of Natal, and T. B. Bay ley, Esq., to all of whom the thanks of the subscribers are due. A handsome and valuable collection of Medallions, presented by Dr. Ross, of Cape Town, calls also for the acknowledgments and thanks of the supporters and friends of the institution. The Treasurer's account now submitted gives the Receipts and Expenditure for the past year, showing a balance in hand of 29 2 3 The subscriptions subsequently received 24 10 53 12 3 To this may be added the proportion of the Parliamentary Grant of 600 a year, payable June 30, amount- ing to 200 253 12 3 Against which must be charged for general purposes ... ... ... 60 Leaving 193 12 3 Which amount will be at the disposal of the Committee about to be appointed, for the purchase of books required to fill up the various departments of the collection. ADDRESS. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, In attempting to perform the duty which your committee has assigned to me, at this your annual meeting, I have thought that I might usefully direct your minds to what I would describe as the Social Tendencies of Literature. Any observant person who watches the things which are passing in the world and going on around him, must have noticed the increasing influence which printed speech is exercising, and must sometimes have asked himself to what purpose it was tending, and in what results it would end. Books of all sorts, on all subjects; magazines and serials, in all shapes, and of all prices, for men of all ranks and occupations; newspapers great and small, enter our houses, attract our notice in the public streets, expect to travel by railroad with us when we make a journey, and well nigh insist to share our beds at night as well as our tables and our chairs by day. What does this mean ? As long as literature was content to wear a grave and unobtrusive aspect, we could place it on our shelves and regard it with that calm respect which might sometimes seem to be indifference ; but what are we to do now ? When the vast folio is jostled out of its place by bustling little books which put in a claim for popularity, when the Classics are asking for a seat within our pockets, when Waverley is sold for one shilling, and some of the first authors of the day, illustrated by some of the first artists, discourse to us in " Good Words " for sixpence, and the book of Common Prayer is sold for two-pence by tens of thousands, and the events which happened yesterday throughout the world report themselves at daylight for a penny, it seems time that we should call this great though subtle agency before us, and request it to make known, with some explicitness, the nature of that work which it is doing, or ought to do for nations and men. And it will not, I think, be indisposed to tell us ; for freedom has been the nursery of literature, and there are no secrets in that region of openness and candour in which literature loves to dwell. The work which literature does is wide and great. A man walks into a public reading-room, where he meets with literature in its lightest and most transitory form. He takes up the Times, or some other London journal, which was printed while the day was breaking, and which does not only tell him all that has taken place within the capitals- and chief towns of Europe as late as last midnight, or even later, but shows him, as in a mirror, the battles which were fought and the things which were done across the wide Atlantic some week or fortnight previous, as well as the facts which the busy mails have carried from India, China, and Southern Africa within some very short and incon- siderable time. The current actions of the world are thus as in a map before him, and in a few minutes he takes in the existing state regarded, no doubt, from an outward and superficial point of view, but still the actual and existing state of that great whole which we call humanity. Moreover, he finds in this epheme- ral thing, which will have flown like a bird and be forgotten before to-morrow, the criticisms and reflec- tions of quick and ready minds, hasty, and having only such worth as may belong to average and first impressions, yet not without some weight and impor- tance, which, observing this passing history as it moves across the stage of time, speak out opinion freely and shout applause or condemnation. Now, we neeu not follow out the thoughts which such a thing of print suggests to all their consequences; but we may ask if it is more than truth to say that the minutes which the man has thus spent have made the world his country ? In- fluences such as this, at work continually, penetrate all lands and leaven all persons, drawing all together. Kings upon their thrones, statesmen in their chambers, senates in their halls, feel them and acknowledge their power. The nations of Europe and America, through all their leading persons, acting as it were in each other's presence, and beneath the frown or the smile of each other's judgments, imbibe unconsciously each other's thoughts. And even Asia and Africa, aliens though they be in race, and thought, and feeling, are being drawn within the magic sphere of such an influ- ence, which moves from one centre to a circumference which includes the world. The same man, or another whose pursuits are some- what different, walks into a public library like that in which we are now met. The books of former genera- tions, venerable with age, look down on him from those seats of wisdom which issue the decrees by which the thoughts of men are governed. But on the table which fills the centre of the wide apartment, he sees the varied colours of those more alluring reviews and serials which court his more immediate attention, and profess to save his busy time. There on that table, within the paper covers tinged with every hue, he may get a bird's-eye glance of all that is worthiest of notice in the books which have been written throughout the world in England, in America, in Germany, in France, and wherever else men think and write during the last few months. That which the journal does especially for man's actions, the review performs for man's thoughts and books. History, theology, philosophy, oiography, science, art, mechanics, busy in all civilized countries, have been putting out their thoughts in writing during the year, or the quarter, or the month which is just passed. And whatever they have pub- lished to the world, the narratives of the historian, the pictures of the biographer, the thoughts of the divine, the speculations of the philosopher, the observations and deductions of the man of science, the elaborations of the artist, the inventions of the discoverer, the creations of the poet; weighed, analyzed, dissected; turned inside out and outside in by the several minds which look at them from all sides in all conceivable aspects; criticized by the discriminating, flattered by the interested, mangled by the hostile ; the cream or the scum of recent thought, may be found there within those books of many colours, gathered and spread out before the world, by critics of all schools, and all degrees of worth or worthlessness, who, having dived into this sea of print, bring up with them to the surface the things which they regard as most to be noticed and observed in it. In fact, such is the present state of literature, and so refined and elaborate are its provisions, that as there are men who write books that the world may be amused, or edified, or elevated, or instructed, so there are men who read for the world as well as write for it ; and those who are too busy or too idle to read themselves have been provided with that most useful kind of caterer, who reads or digests for them, and then hands over to them the result for good or evil of this literary digestion. Here, too, it is needless to pursue the phenomenon into all its many consequences. But it is evident that all this manifold system of review and criticism may be regarded as a vast apparatus by which the world is enabled to carry on its thoughts in simultaneous motion. The man of thought was always more or less of a cosmopolite, for 10 thought overleaps the bariers of time and space, and claims affinity with thought wherever it is met with ; but it remained for the present age to invent that complicated machinery which, catching up the thoughts of men as fast as they were written, and the books of men as fast as they were published, should first break them up into their main elements, and then publish them again in all civilized countries, translated into such a shape that millions should swiftly apprehend their meaning, and either at once adopt them into the substance of their own mind and understanding, or else reject them as unpalatable food, which they were not disposed to use for nourishment. If an author who publishes a book to-day knows that the world will have sat as a jury over it, and have delivered an approving or condemning verdict before half the year is over, he thinks and writes with the eyes of the world imme- diately upon him, and he feels, too, that he may influence the world as quickly and directly as he is himself influenced by it : so that the man of thought and the men for whom he thinks roll along the groove of thought together, each subserving the purpose of the other and moving in union to the same common end. If from the lower levels of literature we ascend to those productions of the press which are the fruits of more careful deliberation, and aim at more permanent effects and influences, we shall find that their tenden- cies, if less decided and apparent, are still one and the same. It is their object, by discussion and reason, or by expression of universal feelings and emotions, to draw men into agreement on the basis of nature and truth. Indeed, books have always been a common ground on which the men of all countries have met as on a neutral territory, that, laying aside their national, political, or other differences, they may communicate their thoughts and exchange with each other the fellow- 11 ship of wide and universal sympathies. By means of books, the men not only of many lands and diverse origin, but of all ages, have assembled as it were within the halls of one world-embracing parliament, there to deliberate on things which touch the welfare of our race, and to express as men to men their deepest and most general emotions. " By the aid of literature," says a thoughtful writer of our own day, " across the wide seas, and from the very depths of time, men stretch out their hands to one another, being brethren in soul. If to think the same in matters of govern- ment has always been considered a stern bond of fellowship, what must be that communion which arises from agreement on matters of deeper concern than any politics, and still more perhaps from that harmony in the lighter touches of thought, expression, and feeling, which constitutes the very essence of personal friend- ship? With men whom we have never seen, we may thus have a dear and intimate communion : and could these friends from afar enter the room, though it might be in a strange garb and speaking a strange language, we should welcome them at once as old friends, and should always think that we knew many of their most familiar ways." It is true, indeed, that the intercourse which comes from literature is not always of a quiet or harmonious kind, and that many a wordy and contro- versial war is fought from time to time by literary combatants ; but the strife of authors is a strife of that reasonable kind which has agreement at least for its professed object, and from which, if reason can but exert its loyal and commanding influence, truth should be the last issue and peace the legitimate result. Such, at any rate, is the conclusion which will be looked for by all who have any faith in human nature, or who believe that good alone can ultimately follow from that full comparison of differences, and that freedom of 12 intercourse and discussion, which dissipates the mists of blinding prejudice, and brings every judgment and opinion to be tried in the light of day before the bar of truth. If truth be that thing which " showeth best by day," as Bacon has said for it, the publication of thought must end in the victory of truth. And among the fruits of this victory, unity is not the least certain ; for truth enters upon warfare only that it may win a peace. The remarks which have been made, sketchy as they are, and are designed to be, have shown us (1) that literature is a chief means of intercourse between man and man in all quarters of the earth ; (2) that, as such, it tends to draw mankind together and to unite the world in one society; (3) that the popular form which it has taken upon itself in modern times, and especially in the present day, indicates a vast increase of its force and an extraordinary enlargement of its influence. Literature is not a new thing, for it is almost as old as human nature ; but it has assumed a shape in which we hardly recognize the older agency. At the very time when a mistaken analogy might have led us to expect decrepitude, we find the intensity of strength. When the world is growing old, and we might have thought that the powers which move mankind would have decayed or languished, literature stands up before us, ruddy with the bloom of youth, and, telling us with all her tongues that the barriers of time and space are giving way before the growing energies of human nature, announces that she is entering on u career of conquest in the domains of intellect and knowledge, which shall at once make earth obedient to man's pur- poses, and unite men with each other while they com- bine to subjugate the earth. The causes of this must now be hastily examined ; and wo shall see not only that literal ure is being now at last repaid for the ser- 13 vices which she has rendered to the arts and sciences, but that these her foster-children are now acting in alli- ance with her, and are co-operating under her guidance to the accomplishment of that common work which has been given them by God to do. The present condition of literature is mainly owing to the extraordinary development of the arts which we call practical, during the half century which has follow- ed the wars of the French Revolution, and the peace which was won at Waterloo. Nothing in all the history of man is more remarkable than the achievements of scientific industry in that calm but eventful period, unless it be the like outburst in the province of intellect and speculation which accompanied the revival of letters a few hundred years before. It would seem, too, that the first of these epochs was the infancy of which the time in which we now live is the maturer age. Then the mind of Europe, awakening as from a long sleep, and inhaling that atmosphere of freedom which Chris- tianity had produced and cherished, even while it seemed to fear and to repress it, ransacked the treasures of the ancients, and, gathering from them all that they could teach of man and art, went out into the world, under the guidance of that true religion which Greece and Rome knew not, to achieve new conquests, and, with all the eyes of observation, at once to question nature and search out the lessons of the earth. And what has been the consequence? Knowledge on innumerable points is still dark and uncertain. Facts as yet observed and examined have still left many things obscure, which curiosity would fain discover. Secrets are still buried beneath the earth's crust, or covered by her flowing streams and unfathomed ocean, which time may yet reveal, or which may never discover themselves to man's inquisitive researches. The space above our heads, sounded at a few points, is still an abyss which we must 14 call wondrous and unsearchable. But we have learnt enough from nature to enlarge our control over her, and every gain which we have made has brought men nearer to each other; not, indeed, by lessening this wide earth, or narrowing its huge dimensions, but by increasing the stride of him who marches over it, and now, with lordlier voice than in former ages, demands to be acknowledged as its king. The chief helper in this work of conquering discovery has been the art of printing, which has not only multi- plied readers and carried education into the meanest cottage, but, as a consequence of this, has in every way increased the power of knowledge and intelligence, and substituted the force of mind for that of brute strength. The full results ofthis cannot now be more than glanced at. Speaking generally, it has increased the power of mind over matter, has established in the world a repub- lic of letters, has brought out into prominence the com- mon and universal as distinguished from that which is separate and individual in human nature, and, on the whole, has tended to unite mankind on the ground of common knowledge and sympathies. The growth, too, of commerce, expanded as it was by the discovery of the compass, and conducing to a more general inter- course between the members of the human family, has led to interchange of thoughts as well as produce, and has contributed essentially both to the increase of knowledge and of that power over nature which know- ledge has always for its fruit. The power, however, which has most accelerated the advancing influence of literature, and has given to it its present most modern characteristics, is that of steam, which, both directly by the aid which it has lent to printing, and indirectly by its effects on commerce, and the intercourse of man with man, has applied that new stimulus and infused that fresh vivacity, which seems destined to increase the 15 collective knowledge of the race in a ratio which no former data can at all enable us to calculate. Litera- ture was an influence of no mean kind when the simple traditions of a family or people, treasured by memory, were handed on from age to age in poetry and song. Its influence received a new impulse when spoken speech was written ; for language and thought acquired by that a fixity, and were able fromt hat hour to speak as to a larger audience, and to the future periods of time. That influence attained its manhood when print- ing perfected the power of writing, and added to the sum of human knowledge as much as it took from the painful and laborious drudgery of human eyes and hands. It is attaining now its ripeness when steam, wedded to all the arts of peace, so that they work into each other's hands and develope each other's spheres of agency, carries men from land to land with calculable speed and accu- racy, and draws out the gifts of God to all countries by exchanging with hot haste at once the thoughts and the productions of every varying clime. It is hard to say how much we owe to that great inventor by whom steam has been given to us as the mightest instrument in aid of every art which civilizes man. If the ancients were right in thinking that inventors were entitled to the highest place in human honour, and if the greatness of its results is to test the worth of an invention, the fame of Watt must be great indeed. Steam rolls with noisy whirl the multitudinous wheels of all our busy manufactories. Steam has given us the railroad, which carries our letters, our persons, and our commerce for us, at a cost and speed which a former age would have supposed incredible. Steam has almost mastered both the fickleness of winds and the proverbial instability of seas. But, above all, it is steam which, by these and other like influences, abolishing the barriers which separate men and nations, knits the world together, 16 hastening the very course of history, while it crowds actions into a briefer compass, and makes thought itself swifter, by at once bringing it in contact with all minds and men. I feel that my subject is out-growing its legitimate dimensions, and that I fail to represent to you all that I am anxious to point out; but you will gather, I hope, from all these hints and intimations that literature is the chief of many agencies, which acting and reacting upon us and upon each other, with a force which was unknown in former ages, are enabling us to ieel that a gracious Providence, working in ways which are not less vast than mysterious, is using man and man's arts and inventions for that purpose which, if man could rule his own destinies, should be the dearest to him, because the most conducive to his real good. If any- thing may be learnt from man's own nature, it is the fact that man is meant for society, and if meant for society, that he can find the perfection of his own individual happiness only in that union with others which makes the good of all the good of each. This we should conclude from man himself, and from the being of Him who made man. And now, proceeding, not from principles, but from the facts which are the boast of a somewhat self-sufficient era, we see that all the forces which are at work around us, and which every one desires to foster and stimulate, are bearing us onward to this mighty consummation, and seem hastening that brighter day when the race which so many bound- aries divide and separate may yet feel and see that it is one. These schoolmasters, who are abroad in every village ; these public journals, which are so eager to receive and publish all news ; these penny magazines which are written for the poorest reader ; these cheap Bibles and religious publications ; these writings upon art and science and inventions, as well as on the graver 17 subjects of the more ancient kinds of literature, which issue from the press as thick as leaves when autumn la passing, what are they all, and what are all the influ- ences which co-operate to their growth and distribution, but so many subtle threads of sympathy and thought, which, woven together into strong cables, are tying all the nations of the world together, giving them at once that strength which is found in unity, to the end that they may subdue nature, and giving them also that unity itself which is better even than the strength. " It is not," says Bacon, " the pleasure of curiosity, nor the quiet of resolution, nor the victory of wit, nor faculty of speech, nor lucre of profession, nor ambition of honour or fame, nor inablement for business, that are the true ends of knowledge; but it is a reinsti- tution of man to the sovereignty and power which he had in his first state of creation." He makes dominion over nature the end of all knowledge. And all things, literature especially, are tending to restore that sove- reignty, and, as we hope, at the same time to make us all one. Man pursuing his ends, unconscious, too, it may be, of their real issue, is working out a purpose which is too great for his own conception or his own accomplishment, and is moving the vast force of an immense and ponderous machinery which a higher wisdom controls and guides. It may be objected, indeed, to the view which has been taken, that it overlooks those darker portions of the picture which sadden the heart, as we observe the evil blended with the good, and at times obscuring all the prospect. Certainly in the world's literature, which is only a reflection of the world's character, and in everything which combines with literature to move and influence our race, there is much which is of no worth, and much also which is purely worthlesss Indeed, the press teems with words which make us B 18 feel, as we think upon them, that the pen no less than the tongue may be a "world of iniquity," and force upon the mind that saddest of all considerations, that God's best and highest gifts become, when abused, the worst scourge and the most terrible of curses. The only satisfaction left for us in looking upon such writings, is that which may be found in the reflection, that they are either so light that, like feathers thrown to the wind, they are soon blown into oblivion, or so heavy that, mingling with the river of literature, like the mud which is washed out of the soil in rainy weather, they sink as it flows on, defiling for a time the stream, but forming no acknowledged part of the clear, pellucid waters. Writings of this kind at best are vile trash, and at the worst are deadly poison. But acknowledging to the full the evil which literature may do and does, and admitting, as we must, that the co-ordinate agencies which help to create and to distribute printed writings I allude particularly to locomotive forces, have had their origin, not so much in any high benevolence or philanthropic spirit, as in the spirit of civilization, and that thirst for gain which is insatiable, the fact remains still that men are being brought closer to each other, >that divisions and separations are giving way before the powers which insensibly remove them, that the thoughts of men are disseminated with extreme rapidity, and that intercourse in every form, drawing out the gregarious tendencies of human nature, is awakening now at last the hope that all who share that nature may think together and feel as one. Every modern invention points in that one direc- tion; every modern influence distinctly tends in no other way. If there is any discovery which seems far removed from any such bias, it is that of gunpowder, the fiery messenger of war and death. And yet no one who thinks at all can fail to see that by making armour 19 useless it increased the importance, politically no less than physically, of the ranks which supplied the common soldier, and combined with other influences to associate the classes of society in new relations with each other, surrounding high and low with nearer bands. Dr. Arnold, on one occasion, when a railroad was opened, is said to have exclaimed, " there goes the feudal system," as the first engine flew from the station dragging the vast weight of men and things whick streamed behind it. If he meant that the ranks of society must all be brought to one level by this and kindred influences, I should venture to differ from him, for I believe that social gradations belong essentially to human nature, and that the changes of the times, when they are working safely, are rather lifting all to a higher level than drawing high and low to one middle point ; but undoubtedly the feudal system, in many of its features, is already a thing of the past, and the first shot which issued from a gun announced and sealed its departure. Superiority of influence, which wealth and physical strength had before given, began then to move to intellect ; and the wisdom which illumines the senate took then the place which had been occupied by that might in arms which shone upon the battle-field. If the chief agent in destruction has thus promoted union of classes by increasing the power of the weak and adding to their relative importance, we can but expect that like results should follow from discoveries which especially belong to arts and agencies of peace. Some of these have been already noticed. But it may just be pointed out further, that new means of locomotion have softened the distinctions of society, by the very same facilities which have promoted intercourse. The time was when the journey of a noble person was an affair of some dignity, and the insignia of his rank at once encumbered and adorned his progress when he moved 20 with stately steps throughout the land. Now, royalty itself journeys with but few distinctions, and the first subjects of the kingdom move but as the unnoticed units of a vast company, who enjoy the same advantages and travel at the same speed. The spirit of a former time, combined with the growth of commerce and manufactures, had already abolished the distinctions of dress, which were once as marked as the gradations of society. In our own time, this new power has set the world in motion, and, moving all ranks together, adds another influence, which makes them feel as one. Things like these, tending as they do to other changes and to gatherings and combinations never before possible, for instance, to those great exhibitions in which the arts and productions of the earth are displayed before a world which meets to observe and learn from them demonstrate that the evils which may exist to mar the course of civilization, and to corrupt the literature which at once fosters and reflects it, do not so mar as to arrest its progress. "Whatever authors may intend, whatever art and commerce may be seeking, observation and experience tell us that man and all his works are but the instruments of a mighty purpose which is moving to some great event. The world is not what it was once. It was but a few centuries ago that a continent was not known, and that oceans had never been traversed. In our own day the sea is white with ships which spread their sails over it, or ploughed by the all-furrowing steam. At the same time, it is well that we should fully recognize these blighting influences of evil, and learn from them that literature and its co-partners in the work which it is doing, depend for their full glory and efficiency upon the aid of that highest knowledge which is man's true life. Theology is, in fact, that master- ecience which, having God for its subject, establishes 21 those ultimate principles which are the ground of alt truth and the light of all light. Hence, it is the business of religion to preside over all thought, and, while it cherishes freedom, at once intellectually and politically, to leaven every social influence, and hallow all arts and all human agencies by the pervading presence of divine truth. The Bible thus takes its place upon the throne of literature as the book of universal ti'uth, which is written for all ages ; and the principles which it lays down become the guide-posts of all intellect, as the lowly freedom of its spirit should give a healthy tone at once to all thought and all life. Such, without any doubt, is the true province of reli- gion, and it is scarcely less doubtful that what is best in this modern condition of society has grown up beneath the shadow of its influence, and by reason of its salutary power. The exact debt which civilization owes to Christianity may not be easily determined. The great civilizing agents which have wrought such changes in society in the course of a few hundred years may indirectly be the fruit of Christian faith, though perhaps it would be truer to say that they have been put within the reach of man when the soil of free thought and act had been prepared by that faith for their reception. But, certainly, they will do their allotted work, and attain their own full perfection and development, exactly in proportion as they consent to take religion for their master, and to acknowledge themselves as servants of God and truth. Literature and civilization will do a great deal, for the hand of God is overruling them and bowing them to His great purpose for the ends of unity and social welfare ; but they will do it the sooner and the better if they see and recognize their work. Let us hope that they will thus fulfil their mission. When man was made, his Maker gave the earth to be his kingdom, and ordered him to rule'and subdue it. The presence of evil has shaken his power, and stunted the growth of his authority ~;^but the work of reconquest has been going on throughout the course of ages. And now in this autumn of the world's year the seed long sown and slowly" growing ripens into fuller power and larger knowledge, till hope, long silent, at last anticipates a triumph, and the signs of time tell us that men uniting among each other to obey the command of their Creator may yet fulfil their mission, and draw from Nature, willing to give up her secrets, the powers which are able to subdue the earth. I have endeavoured thus to show the tendencies of literature and other civilizing agencies, which cannot be separated from it, and by so doing to indicate that we are living in a great era, when seeds long sown by providence are ripening to their fruit. If I had had the time for more thought, and a more lucid arrange^ nient of my thoughts, I might have placed the facts more clearly and convincingly before you. As it is, I can but apologize for the mode of the performance, and request you to supply the deficiencies by your own in- telligence and thought. And I will ask you to listen to me but a little longer, while I further call your notice to some few points which are not without importance, and which may show the bearings of that which has preceded on things which interest ourselves. First, then, if all that has been said is true, or some- thing like the truth, there is a good deal to make us hopeful in these present times. Not that there is any need to boast, or to congratulate ourselves upon our great enlightenment. Few things are more painful and offensive than that spirit of pride, which seems as if it stood upon the shoulders of the men who lived before us, only that it might trample upon all to whom we owe our elevated place. As well might the ripened 23 grain of summer boast over the green seed time, or the child over the parent, to whom he owes his life. But it is something to turn the eyes from things which breathe of vice, or selfishness, or meanness, or frivolity, and forgetting the lies, and the follies, and the emptiness, which blacken and corrupt literature, to see that liter- ature it may be without consciousness, and almost in spite of itself, but still really and effectually is work- ing out the mighty sc heme of Providence ; so that our journals, and our serials, and our reviews, and all the cloud of books which fill the air around us, busy with their own ends, and often, alas I forgetful of any high purpose, still are knitting men together, interpreting man to man, and publishing those facts and truths of nature, which some can so use as to show that pos- session of knowledge is acquisition of power. With thoughts like these before us, whether we read or write, we shall so act that nothing on our part may dim so bright a prospect, and that our little mite may in some way be offered to aid in the accomplishment of so high and privileged a work. Thoughts, too, such as these may surely teach us how to examine nature, and what to keep before us as the end of all investigation, when using past knowledge we search the still unuttered secrets of the earth. One of the chief distinctions between ancient and modern liter- ature is the prominence which the last hast given to those sciences which investigate material objects, and probe the deeper things of outward nature, that they may find her laws. Great practical results have been gathered out of this new field of observation, and more, no doubt, will be derived still. It is well, however that we should bear in mind, as Bacon has already shown us, that the pleasure of curiosity is not the end of such knowledge, but sovereignty over the world of nature. Nature may be searched for the mere pleasure 24 of inquiry, or for the sake of those charms of ingenious speculation which have so great a power to fascinate. But philosophy such as this is neither man's business nor the sure way to truth. We come into the world with a commission. Our Maker sent us here to tame the patient soil and rule obedient nature. And nature will obey us, and place all her latent powers beneath our feet, if we ask her to reveal them for the purposes which they are designed to serve. She will hide them, as other and even higher truth is hidden, if we regard ourselves as wise and prudent. She will reveal them if we come to her as babes. While we learn this respecting nature, we learn also to look up from nature to nature's God. If we consider the literature of the day and the spirit of the age as seen upon its darker side, we see a leaning, not, I think, to a blank atheism, or a barren deism but, to those subtler errors of a heartier aud more alluring nature which, confusing between God and the things on which His will operates, make of all things God. The school of Carlyle, and others of a like spirit, though not owning him as master, looking into the world and seeing the forces which are working in it and upon it, with an energy which increases in an accelerating ratio, such as opinion, with the press for its organ, steam with all its mighty consequences, and other like powers, which man makes and uses, tell us to believe in other things than God's person, and tell us that will, and energy, and thought, and other such abstractions, rule and direct the world. But this is not what we shall really learn from the phenomena which may be seen around us. Everything leads us rather to a personal and present God. Who that sees the chains by which the past and the present are united, who that marks the preparations which were made in ages long past for results which only now become apparent, who 25 that perceives how earth and man have had their seed time, and summer, which is now being followed by that autumnal season, as Bacon calls it, in which pro- phecy foretold that many " shall run to and fro, and science shall be increased," can fail to discover in this unbroken chain of cause and consequence, that first cause, that pervading presence, that almighty Person to whom past and present and future are one everlasting now ; who Himself, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever, counts a day as it were a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day ? If an infinite Mind is so directing everything that is and breathes, matter in its shapes wherever matter is, and spirit in its formless essence wherever spirit exists, so that all things execute His purposes and work out His wise will, while even evil with all its contradictions pays Him homage, nature becomes intelligible, and man can understand himself. On any other supposition, Creation is one inscrutable enigma, and fate, whatever fate may be, is the sole ruler of the universe, the blind monarch of a benighted and bewil- dering realm. It may require faith to perceive the presence of Him whose glory the heavens are telling, and whose power shines within His works; but it requires a larger faith to believe that the purpose by which all nature is directed is only nature's self. As well might we believe that a ship could reach its harbour without the purpose which gave it its direc- tion, or the mind which presided over its helm. And from this we may yet advance but one step further. We have dealt to-day with facts, and facts only. We have asked both art and literature to come before ua and tell us by their acts their ends. From these, the common things of daily life and observation, we have been led to look with hope upon the future, and to see that unity among ourselves and power over 26 the realm of nature is no mere dream of poets and enthusiasts, but an actual and veritable possibility, which may some day be brought into existence by some such things as the papers or books which we daily handle, and the ships which go to and fro upon the travelled sea. But now, from experience and fact, let us go back to take but one glance at revelation, and see what prophecy and psalm have got to tell us of things so deeply touching upon the highest interests of man's race. The great subject of the Bible is love, unity, and peace. Poetry glows into its finest heat and most exalted language, when it speaks of that divine kingdom stretching to the world's end, when abundance of peace shall be as long as the moon endureth. Prophecy paints its fairest picture, as it ushers in that jewelled age when the wolf and the lamb shall dwell together, and the little child shall both find the asp harmless and rule with gentle sway the savage beast. The King of that empire, of which things like these are the development, left as his legacy behind Him the unutterable blessing which man has named peace. And the last writer of the Bible speaks and thinks of little else but love, which is the flower of Christianity, and unity, which is love's fruit. Is it, then, that this Kingdom of God is about to come forth into its fall distinctness, and that an age is drawing nearer and more near, when the dross being consumed which now is mingled with the gold and silver, the pure metal shall shine out in all its brightness ? Is it that the dreams of universal empire which conquerors and armies have striven to realize is soon to be exemplified beneath the sway of Him who is the Prince of Peace ? We know not what may follow, and we cannot now know. Prophecy was given rather to interpret things which happen, than to show us plainly things to come. We can but observe the times and seasons, and read the 27 signs which are in them. Certainly, it would be easier now to rule the earth from one centre, than in the days of old to rule the iron empire when Rome was the navel of the earth. Certainly, the powers which -Jiow exist, the press, steam, the telegraph, developed, as time will no doubt develop them, out of that infantine condition in which some of them at least as yet are, in comparison with their as yet unknown and scarce imagined capabilities, might realize that, in fact, which once would have seemedr^ntirely visionary. This very earth, purged of the evil which now hinders its perfection, might yet become an universal Paradise, and the glories of Eden might cease to be a lost dream. But, dropping speculations such as these, which are meant rather as hints at possibilities than as anticipa- tions of a future which yet is hidden in the womb of time, we may still, I think, be led from them to see that meetings such as these are not without their uses and advantages. These annual reports, which tell us what our Library is doing, may suggest to us thoughts of Him who gave us speech with all its mighty consequences. And the hour which we spend here, with books above and around us, may lead us to think of the dead whose minds still live upon our shelves, watching as it were the result of their efforts and the fruits of their labours, and may induce us, solemnly reflecting upon our own responsibilities and duties, so to read or so to write, that we may do our part in making Literature that which it was meant to be the voice and utterance of love, the bond by which love should unite society, the chief among the influences by which men, united with each other, should rule and subdue the earth. SAUL SOLOMOX AND CO., PRINTEBS, ST. GEORGE'S-STREET. PROCEEDINGS AT THE -sktfr Jtraitesari) peethtg SUBSCRIBERS TO THE PUBLIC LIBRARY CAPE TOWN, CAPE OF GOOD HOPE, HELD ON SATURDAY, THE 13TH MAY, 1865. in the Ckair. CAPE TOWN: SAUL SOLOMON & CO., STEAM PRINTING OFFICE. 1865. Ho*. W. PORTER, Hox. MR. JUSTICE WATER- MEYER, MR. PROFESSOR CAMERON, GEORGE FRERE, ESQ., (Treasurer), R. BAYLEY, ESQ. W. HIDDINGH, ESQ., S. SOLOMON, ESQ.. MR. PROFESSOR NOBLE, MAJOR LONG MORE, DB. DALE. I J. C. GIE, ESQ. A True Copy: F. MASKEW, Librarian. REPORT. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, The period for the Annual Meeting of the South African Public Library having arrived, the Committee, in calling the subscri- bers together to surrender their trust, are induced to hope that its interests have been carefully attended to during the last twelve months, and that the accessions to its literary stores have been marked with a due regard to the tastes of all classes of readers. During the past year an application was made by the Committee of the Mechanics' Institute for the purpose of ascertaining upon what terms the Library could be made available for the use of its members ; who at present are debarred from enjoying the advantages offered by this Institution, the hours during which the Library is at present open to the public precluding them from attending, and also to ascertain whether some arrangement could not be made for opening the Library in the evening. Your Committee gave this subject their most serious and attentive consideration ; and, however much in- clined at all times to extend the usefulness of this institution, they regret that on account of the heavy additional expenditure it would entail they could not accede to the request of the members to open the Library as proposed. They, however, decided to pro- pose to the Committee of the Institution to lower the rate of subscription in their case to Ten Shillings per annum, payable half-yearly in advance ; provided that not less than twenty members availed themselves of the privilege. This offer was acknowledged by the Committee of the Mechanics' Institute as liberal and A 2 satisfactory ; but they regretted that in consequence of members not enrolling themselves in sufficient num- bers to comply with the conditions prescribed, they could not for the present avail themselves of it. The Committee have also had under their consider- ation draft of rules for the management of the "Grey Collection," which was submitted by the Trustees, and which in their opinion appeared suitable for the re- quirements of this collection. These rules, with some slight modification, were adopted by the Committee, and are subject to your approval. The rules are as follow: Rule 1. Sir George Grey's Library, forming the "Grey Collection" in the South African Public Library, is open to the public during the same hours and under the same rules and regulations as the other parts of this Institution ; but no book or manuscript is to be taken out except by order of Sir George Grey. (2.) No books shall be taken from the shelves with- out the permission of the Librarian of the "Grey Collection," or the person in charge during the absence of the same. (3.) Books of particular value and manuscripts will only be accessible to the public under the personal inspection of the Librarian, who will be in attendance from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m., and from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. (4.) In the absence of the Librarian of the "Grey Collection," from leave of absence or on account of illness or other causes, the Librarian of the Public Library will undertake the duties incumbent on the Librarian of the " Grey Collection" under these rules. (5.) The Librarian has discretionary power in grant- ing or refusing permission to use any of the books or manuscripts in the collection. He is also to give such specific directions regarding the manner of handling the books and manuscripts as he may find necessary. 5 (6.) Transcribers are iiot to lay the paper on which they write on any part of the book or manuscript they are using. As a general rule they are not allowed to use ink but pencil. No tracings are allowed without express permission. (7.) No person is on any pretence whatever to write on any part of a printed book or manuscript belonging to the collection. (8.) It may be sufficient merely to mention that silence is absolutely requisite in a place devoted to the purpose of study. In their last Report, the Committee stated that a certain amount out of the Parliamentary grant would be available for the purchase of books required to fill up various departments of the collection. They have now much pleasure in acquainting you that they have added several valuable works to the Library of Refe- rence, which ought long ago to have had a place on your shelves, but which the limited means hitherto at their disposal prevented them from procuring. The accession of books during the present year by purchase as well as by presentation has been as follows : Vols. Miscellaneous Theology 9 Political Economy, Jurisprudence ... 10 Science and the Arts 27 Dictionaries, &c. 43 Works of Amusement ... ... ... 133 Belles Lettres, &c 44 History 46 Voyages and Travels ... ... ... 33 Biography ... ... ... ... 51 Miscellaneous 9 Total 405 Amongst them, the committee have the honour re- spectfully to acknowledge a volume of the Speeches and Addresses of His late Royal Highness the Prince Consort, graciously presented to the Library by Her Majesty the Queen ; also three volumes in folio, en- titled " Waring's Masterpieces of Industrial Art and Sculpture," the gift of His Excellency Sir P. E. Wodehouse, and several other donations of books from the following gentlemen : Messrs. James Hogg & Son and Mr. Geo. Hodgskin of London, Sir Thomas Maclear, Messrs. T. B. Bayley, TV r . H. TFathen, W. Hiddingh, P. B. Borcherds, T. W. Bowler, and W. Y. Eldridge. The Treasurer's account will be submitted, which will show the income and expenditure during the past year. Your Committee, in closing their Report and surren- dering their trust, have, with their retrospect of much that has been pleasant and progressive in the history of the Library, to make reference to one special loss which they, in common with their fellow-colonists throughout the country, have sustained. To the chain of associations which already connects the memories of many good and great men with this Institution, they have now mournfully to add another link. The name of JOHN FAIRBAIEN will long be familiar to the ears of all, not only as a lover of literature and patron of education, but as of one whose pen contributed, in language graphic, earnest, and truthful, many a stir- ring page to the literary treasures of the Cape ; and when time shall have mellowed the remembrance of the man as he moved amongst us, his memory will be chronicled amongst the names of the South African worthies. ADDRESS. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, It has seemed to me that at our meeting of the Library we might suitably occupy an hour in endeavouring to form some estimate of contemporary literature and art. Though the South African Library, more than most of a public charac- ter, contains fair specimens of what our forefathers have left us as a rich inheritance of knowledge and wisdom, yet we possibly prize its privileges most of all because it puts us in possession of the works which the best authors in Europe or America are now giving to the world. We are all, perhaps, more interested in the life that is throbbing in our own day, than in the most memorable epochs of history, and that not because we excel our forefathers in either virtue or skill, but because we have a sympathy with present events and the out-pourings of living teachers which no penchant for historical or antiquarian studies can overcome. We may be thankful, however, that we are not called upon altogether to separate the moral and intellectual life of past and present days. For the wise sayings and mature thoughts of our ancestors repeat themselves in the literature which we now enjoy. This age, whicli has produced so much of its own worthy of ou r admiration, has been distinguished by a reverent regard for ancient writings, and has bestowed no little pains in determining their true meaning, and preserv- ing, and in some instances rescuing from mistaken scorn, the reputation of their authors. Though our living writers cannot reproduce the individuality of old authors, they are, without being plagiarists, not only 8 penetrated with their spirit, and the better for their knowledge, but the very form in which their thoughts were clothed unmistakably reappears, though with the tone and colouring of a new age. It is most won- derful that amidst the emigrations and conflicts of centuries the literature of the old world has been to so great an extent preserved. When the Gothic night descended upon Europe, and almost every form of mental exercise gave way to the roughest type of brute force, there were sheltered nooks and corners where the sacred fire still burned. When the barbarian hordes overran Europe, until they were stopped by the Atlantic, that Providence which has in its good keeping the thoughts as well as the souls of men seemed to guard the mountain passes opening to Southern Europe, where the civilization of the world lay cradled, and in the vales of Thessaly and the Italian peninsula, what existed in the world of art and literature was sheltered from the ruthless assault. When we are speaking of the literature of the day, we are describing the literature of all past ages, as it has entered into the thinking and speaking of the pre- sent age, with the manner in which living teachers have employed it and added to it. Both the repro- ductions and additions of our own day seem to us so significant and important as to deserve a prominent place in the history of literature. When the reign of our beloved Sovereign comes to be reviewed by the historian, we shall, I believe, stand amazed at the immense additions to our scientific knowledge and the general literary activity which it has witnessed. M ore- over, amidst the profusion of prose and poetic contri- butions to literature, and a certain uniformity of power which undoubtedly obtains, there are substantial and clearly marked characteristics and consummate excel- lence in certain branches which cannot fail to attract 9 his attention. The same remarks may be made, with added emphasis, of most branches of the fine arts. Our modern artists, from Turner to Millais, need not shun comparison with the greatest workmen in colours the world has ever produced ; while in the rendering of delicate and subtle spiritual meanings they stand un- rivalled. There is thus abundantly sufficient in the present characteristics of literature and art to justify our attention to the subject of literature and the fine arts in the reign of Victoria. We do not promise to give anything like a comprehensive analysis of its character in the limits of this' paper, but we shall count ourselves fortunate if we are able to indicate its salient features, and above all to mark its tone and spirit. Mr. Craik, in his " History of Literature," remarks that in the three great epochs of English literature the Elizabethan, that of Queen Anne, and the present century the reviving impulse has come from a foreign source : the first from Italy, the second from France, and the last from Germany. This remark, though strictly true, must not blind us to the fact that English literature, like English liberty, has had a growth of its own. Nay, in each of these three instances we can trace elements silently at work in our own country, leading us in the same direction as the "reviving impulse" from abroad; nor must the element of reaction be lost sight of in these changes and revivals. The polished, clever feebleness of the Specta- tor writers stands in contrast with the agonizing earnestness of the 17th century literature, and the national and social life underwent a similar change. The reign of formality which followed could hardly have lasted much longer if the influence of German literature had not lent its aid to the last revolution. The literature of our own time receives its most characteristic colouring from the spirit which Words- 10 worth and Coleridge infused into English thought and feeling ; and in their day the influence of German philosophy, poetry, and scholarship began to be felt by English students. The epoch immediately pre- ceding had been from the days of Queen Anne an almost unbroken reign of formalism. Addison and Steele, and even Bishop Berkely, though they wrote with an affected familiarity and with great clearness and simplicity, manifested such concern for precision and polish, that true emotion had little chance of finding its way through their nicely-balanced periods. Pope, with all his power and brilliance, erred in the same direction. His carefully-balanced antitheses and flowing rhythm are never broken by genuine pas- sion or homely wisdom. We are not surprised to hear that he was passionately fond of the stage. His charac- ters are all actors in brilliant dress, his scenery like the familiar pasteboard that moves on wheels ; his lights are mimic fire, and not from the clear heavens ; and his wisdom the conventional stock of the grey wigs. Byron, with his long passionate wail on human destiny, and his free and sometimes coarse treatment of men and manners, did something to bring this formalism to an end. But he did not and could not satisfy the awakened longings of that day. Men turned to the wonderful and passionate discoursings of Coleridge, piercing and stirring up the depths of their being, and more slowly but not less surely to the calm philosophic depth and the pure, exalted spirit of William Words- worth. If the literature of Germany had been unknown in the history of the world, we cannot doubt that these men would have exercised a profound in- fluence on literature ; but they happened to follow a time of intense mental activity on the Continent, the influence of which can be clearly traced in their writings. Since we cannot now open a lexicon or 11 scientific treatise, or a critical commentary on a classical author, or even on Holy Scripture, without finding abundant reference to the labours of German scholars and teachers, and the whole tone of our literature is more or less affected by them, we must stay a minute to inquire what this German influence was, and in what manner it affected the thinking and writing of educated Englishmen. The writing of Locke, Condillac, &c., and indeed the general course of an empirical system of metaphy- sics in England, though I am not unmindful of its modification in the acute discourses of the Scottish Professors had led to the conclusion that " there is nothing in the understanding which has not arrived there through the senses." To this Leibnitz replied, "Yes, there is the understanding itself." Modern German philosophy may be said to have started from this proposition, and commencing with a searching examination of the part which the mind played in giving form to phenomena, it aspired to grasp the science of all being through the soul of man, and to make him both the measure and the interpreter of the Universe itself. Kant was content with admitting the reality of both the external world and the mind, but gave a more important place than the great English philosopher to the mind in determinating and regulating the impressions of sense. According to his system, matter only furnished the rough shapings, and mind itself gave the forms and tone. External nature without mind, according to his theory, may be compared to the coloured pieces of glass in the kale- idoscope, which fall into order only at the glance of the soul. Kant, moreover, made a most important dis- tinction between the operations of the mind receiving phenomenal and moral and spiritual impresions the well-known distinction between the verstandt and 12 vernuft the understanding and the reason. We employ the one in reasoning by sense, and the other in reasoning beyond sense. The one is confined to the objects and relations of the outward world ; the other to those of the spiritual world the one relates to the forms under which we view the finite and con- tingent ; the other relates to the forms under which we image to ourselves the infinite, the absolute, the eter- nal. Fichte considered the foundation of Kant un- sound, inasmuch as he started from the separate exis- tence of mind and matter, and in his search for truth presupposed the reality of each. He maintained the absolute supremacy of individual consciousness and impression. There might or might not be an external world distinct from the spiritual: we knew it only as it appeared to us, and our own souls contained the Alpha and Omega of all knowledge and existence. Schelling, like Fichte, warmly criticized his predeces- sors. Revolting from the man-worship to which Fichte's system inevitably led, he considered it an error to make man's mind the sum and standard of all truth ; and, asserting the separate existence of phenomena and spirit, he deduced from them an independent and absolute existence, revealing itself through each. Hegel in turn pursued a different course from each of his predecessors, and, with all his wonderful powers, strove to show the identity of thought and existence, flatter, in all its varying forms, was but the ever- present action of spirit and life, and the highest mani- festation of it was man himself. The union of soul -and body in man was but the type and mirror of universal life and order. "We know no life beyond this ever-present and eternal action. It forms no part of my design to estimate the value of these speculations. It may have been it surely was that in exploring that inner world, with the 13 wondrous scenery of which we are so little familiar, the mirror which reflected far-off divine glories was mistaken for the eternal substance. The truth of the whole matter, as we have received it, itself accounts for the mistakes. "In the image of God," says the Holy Book, "made He man." The mirror is dimmed and broken ; but even in the scattered fragments there are flashes and colourings of divine beauty, which, having lost their tone, place, and order, make the beholder imagine he has come upon the great eternal light of which they are the imperfect yet beautiful reflections. Nor must it be imagined that these growths of mental energy were transplanted to English soil; There was no attempt, except in Coleridge's wonderful and impassioned reproductions of the Kantian philo- sophy, to impose a formal exposition of them, except indeed for scholastic purposes, upon the English mind. There is a physical energy about the Anglo-Saxon character which stands in the way of an absorbed, and as some may think, morbid contemplation of mental and spiritual phenomena. Whether M. Victor Cousin's complimentary theory be correct, that from our insular position all our thinking and speculation is imperfectly carried out, and never, even in the hands of our philosophers, reaches its legitimate results, it is certain that we are impatient of theorizings that cannot be readily translated into the practice of life. Even where we seem to trace in English authors a high and ennobling reflection of the Platonic doctrines, we find an intense mental action, that allies itself with human sorrow and need, rather than a pure reflective spirit, that is content to tell its dreams to an audience of thinkers. The general result of the continental influ- ence as it then passed into English literature may be thus described. As the tone of teaching most familiar 14 to Englishmen had regarded man merely as receiving the lessons of nature and experience, the new teaching insisted on the gifts which man himself bestowed upon these great educators of our race. We were told and made to feel what he gave to nature, and how he surrounded it with the glory of his own being rather than what nature gave to him. The crown was taken from sensuous impressions and placed upon the soul by which they were largely moulded. The spiritual faculty through which men yearned after, and to some extent realized, eternal things, was separated from all mere mental processes, and held to contribute a glory of its own in every field of contemplation. In other words, Aristotelian impressions had, as in the days of the Alexandrian schools, to give place to the richer influence of Platonic doctrine, modified by new chan- nels of inquiry, and at least in one case made to do true service for mankind. It is true, indeed, that strange visitors were introduced into that presence chamber of the soul consecrated to the service of the King of kings and all His train of invisible wonders, and the mere sentiment of devotion often took the place of the true worship of Almighty God ; but on the whole, the fact that the higher relationships of life and being -were more truly recognized, was in itself a pledge of better things. It was a necessary result of this greater concern for the spirit of literature, as distinguished from its form, that objective themes were less cared for. And this was the chief characteristic of Wordsworth's poetry. In his prologue to " Peter Bell," he complains of the eternal grandeur of the themes which the poets require to inspire their songs. They are, he says, for ever jaunting to moons, and planets, and suns, while as rich or richer material was to be found in the hedgerows in a quiet morning walk or in the simple joys and sorrow of every-day life. The very fact that 15 such great themes were required suggested to him the criticism that there was a care for mere externals in literature inconsistent with the flow of a genuine inspiration. In accordance with these feelings, when he would describe a hardened sensuous ruffian, he uses the now familiar words, " A primrose on the river's brim A yellow primrose was to him And it was nothing more." Wordsworth, in his intense dislike of shallow brilliance, seems to us to have gone to the opposite extreme. He was in danger of falling into the very error he exposed, namely, that of magnifying the objects of poetry, when he thought he could find it in a spade and a brick-wall. But those pure and lofty medita- tions by the Cumberland Lakes, though they may never be popular, did far more to influence the tone of English literature than the passionate discourses of Coleridge. It is not difficult to show that the spirit of Words- worth has been inherited by the leading poets of our time Tennyson and the Brownings with the hosts of lesser lights who have contributed a rich store of true poetry to the literature of the day. And in giving the first place amongst men of letters to our poets, we are surely following the true order. It is an utter mistake to speak of the poetry of a nation as the amusement of its refined and cultured men, or of .the work of the imagination as a superfluity of being. National poetry is related to its life as any man's highest ideal is related to his practical work. To a far greater extent than we are willing to admit, the matter-of-fact men are guided by their dreams. Even a little child has floating visions of ideal perfection that guide its entrance into life ; and many a one, as he has plodded on in doubt and despair, has heard 16 above the roar of the busy world the quiet whisper, " keep to the dream of thy youth." Our dreaming moods, when new purposes take shape to our souls, have more to do with our destiny than our systematic thinkings. Taken altogether, they form the life-ideal at which we are steadily working in ordinary engage- ments. Our eye constantly wearies as we look at exact mechanical work on the painter's canvas, through which no true ideal shines; while every touch ia quickened into brilliance if the " vision and the faculty " are both present. In some such way, the poetry of a nation not only penetrates its literature, but finds its way into its infinitely varied work. Those who have never read a line of an author's poetry are through these indirect channels still under his influence. It ia not too much to say that the poetry of Wordsworth and Tennyson have found their way into Acts of Par- liament. Mr. Tennyson much resembles Wordsworth in his subtle entrance into the workings of the inner life. While he deals skilfully with lighter moods, he displays his true strength when he takes us into realms where to think is to suffer. No one has described in richer verse the soul's sorrows and aspirations, the mysteries that sadden it, and the joys that feed it its hope. Instead of giving us fine after-thoughts upon any sjcene of human interest, he lives it by throwing himself utterly into its circumstances and emotions, almost regardless of our power to track his steps. To follow where his own mood leads is to him the only order of true poetry. There is in his poems little external unity, though there is marvellous compactness both of thought and style. The outer world does not so much impress itself upon him as he himself upon it. Its ten thousand forms of life are only the symbols of matchless beauties behind the realms of the seen and 17 temporal not the realities of being, but the beautiful " veil on which their shadows fall." Thus he wanders on from year to year, singing his sweet moods of love and grief to those that have learned to listen, some- times in a sad strain when he cannot realize the har- mony between the finite form and the infinite life, yet always cherishing the "larger hope," and trusting somehow "good will be the final goal of ill." Like the ideal poet, he describes "Ht> saw thro' life and death, thro' good and ill, He saw thro' his own soul, The marvel of the everlasting will An open scroll." The criticism just offered, that Mr. Tennyson for the most part follows the leading of a mood or medi- tation unchecked by considerations of outward unity, may be illustrated by his well-known and matchless poem, " In Memoriam, A. H. H.," when the Laureate reaches his highest though not most popular strains. A writer in the Times has compared this poem with the Lycidas of Milton, and certainly there is so far a resemblance, in that both are prompted by the death of a friend, and a friend beyond the sea, but there it ends. In Lycidas, the history of the hero is kept before the reader by narrative ; but in "In Memoriam" it can be tracked but dimly through the poem. Perhaps most here can remember a time when they have lost a friend as near to them as Arthur Henry Ilallam to Alfred Tennyson. Let them call to mind the sad strange history of their grief. At one time some old forgotten scene associated with their companionship will recur; at another a momentary doubt traverse the soul as they tried to grasp the consolation that he was living in the house not made with hands, then the mysteries of death and sorrow, old as mortality, will brood over the troubled heart. Then the shadows 18 would be chased away by the Easter notes of triumph from the Saviours open grave and the tender memory of a beautiful life. Such a mood has Mr. Tennyson given us in its severe simplicity in the " In Memoriam,'' unattended by even fragments of history to unite his meditations. At one time he passes the house where his friend once lived, and cannot believe it untenanted ; at another he imagines the sea bearing its solemn freight, motion everywhere but in the still breast that " heaves but with the heaving deep." Then he will recur to experiences of utter friendship which Mr- Kingsley tells us (though we don't believe him) are growing scarcer every year " The path by which we twain did go Which led by tracks that pleased us well: Through four sweet years arose and fell From flower to flower, from snow to snow." Then, in rapid and unexpected alternations, come in the questionings of doubt and fear, but all ending in the calm repose of faith. But a true artist not only reproduces his own re- flections, but tries to throw himself into other people's. Mr. Tennyson does this with the same power and the same carelessness for circumstantial order. He throws himself into the soul of his hero, giving us just enough of plot and circumstances to help us to a picture of his life. And this power has much advantage when outward elements of interest and beauty are wanting. Who besides Mr. Tennyson could have invested the flat wilderness of the Lincolnshire fens with poetic thought? Pope or Dryden would have written a satire on it. Milton would have cried, " ask me not to bring ray muse to such levels; let me go to the moun- tains or the streams. I must sing of the depths of the nether world or the joys of a regained Paradise/' Shakespeare would have filled the plain with life, and 19 made us feel that the joys and griefs of the common world tenanted those quiet, sombre homesteads. With matchless skill and truth, Mr. Tennyson has put his mourning Mariana in the moated grange, and, looking out upon the " level waste, the rounding grey," " the sluice that slept with blackened waters," the "lonely poplar on the waste," the shrill and wooing wind has thrown the wild reflection of the scene upon her weary soul. Mr. Tennyson needs no justification for having ex- plored the soul's hiding-places and tracked its secret wanderings ; but that he has done so suggests the remark that in the moods he seems to fathom, we are all visited by our ripest and richest inspirations, and what of true poetry may dwell in ordinary spirits at such times flows most tenderly. If it be needful to our ideal of a great poet that he must be able to paint every kind of life and enter into every situation of human joy and sorrow, like our own wonderful master, then Mr. Tennyson cannot lay claim to that distinc- tion. But if we think that greatness is as much revealed by the man who moves in fewer paths but leaves a deeper track upon them, and these paths are solemn highways along which all human souls must move, often in pain and always in solitude, then is our Laureate amongst the greatest of our poets. Nor must it be forgotten that he has added richly to our varieties of metre and style of poetic expression. His admirably chosen words fall upon the ear like the clear drop of an evening bell on a summer evening. His painting and packing are in some of his pieces as near an approach to perfection as anything in the language. The " Morte d' Arthur" and many of his smaller poems are gems of delicate workmanship and finish he will probably never more equal, for he already gives signs of painting with a broader brush. C 2 20 His last volume proves that his genius has more com- pass and flexibility than many have suspected, and we shall doubtless yet meet him in new fields of song. The poetry of the Brownings is of the same order as Mr. Tennyson's, but it has many important differ- ences. With every feeling of admiration for Mr. Browning's wonderful powers, his subtle analysis of opinion, his rich descriptions, and the fine dramatic qualities of his earlier poems, we feel that his strange periods, with their half-concealed meanings, caught only by a strained attention the heart of the people. We wish that the " lines would let their meaning meet us with a more level gaze," and we should like sometimes to rest from our wanderings amongst infinite mysteries for a song of heart and home, or the work of daily love and sorrow. Of Mrs. Browning we must speak with the reverence claimed by the dead. Who wonders that the brain that travailled with thoughts of such wondrous beauty and wrestled with such high problems is now still death. "Aurora Leigh" is alone sufficient to establish her reputation as a great poet. Though written to solve the problem whether man can be reached through the outworks of philanthropy, or whether his soul must be inspired with a new life, which may be left to shape the circumstances of his being, it is full of human interest. It displays a wealth of descriptive faculty and a freedom of power some- times, perhaps, a little wildly, almost uncouthly exercised, which is truly marvellous. But besides these greater efforts, she has thrown herself into the social and even political life of the people in verses of inimitable strength and tenderness. She now sleeps in her own beautiful Florence, her beloved Italy, sleeps, too, in Him who giveth "His beloved sleep." She asks us to remember her, not in the vicissitudes of her suffering life, but passing to the Divine quiet, " where 21 the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest. " And friends, dear friends, when it shall be That this low breath has gone from me; When round my bier ye come to weep, Let one most loving of you all bay not a tear must o'er her fall, He giveth His beloved sleep." I have no space to pass in review the labours of other poets of our era who have contributed largely to its literature. They have all, more or less, the character- istics of the masters I have named. The taste for smooth and skilful versification has given place to a poetry that demands freer canons, because it deals with simpler emotions and more subtle meditations. Next in order to our poets we may give some atten- tion to writers of fiction, who have made some of the richest and most characteristic contributions to the literature of our time. Amidst a wilderness of trash, turned into the market in bushels, to supply the insatiable appetites of novel readers, we have a number of writings of substantial power that will live as works of art for many a year to come. That so many authors of high merit should choose such a method of conveying their thoughts is not a little surprising, and may be regarded as a peculiarity of our time. But there is a light in which fiction may be regarded as a form of contemporary history. It reflects the passing men and manners of the time with more truth to an eclectic reader than the columns of a newspaper, which can but deal with facts which attract public attention. Writers are busy clothing the dry bones of history in romance, and reproducing in novels the events of common life. Though this age witnesses a sickening amount of plagiarism in the manufacture of new plots, it has produced a class of fiction of higher quality than any preceding era. Richardson and Smollett come out in clever abridgments, adapted to the change of taste, and under various titles. " Old friends," says one the rapid movement of whose pen soon wore away his life, "revisit us with new faces. Amelia has watched the dying embers for a dozen husbands since Fielding left her ; and Uncle Toby's mellow tones have startled us down a college staircase and through the railings of counting-houses in the city. Gentlemen and heroines from whom we parted many years ago, with slight respect for their attainments, have now taken a scien- tific or serious turn. Lovelace is absorbed in entomo- logy ; and Lady Bellaston is a rubber of brasses." The new tone of English fiction may be said to have taken its rise in the labours of Mr. Charles Dickens and Mr. W. M. Thackeray, though both these gen- tlemen belong to a school whose influence is already yielding to higher and more spiritual qualities ; nor can they be described as embodying the characteristics which will make the Victorian era remarkable in narra- tive literature. But they compel a tribute of affection- ate admiration for the manner in which they have employed their great powers. Mr. Dickens has laid bare for us, with wonderful power, the social life of our great cities. He has taken us to the homes of poverty and care, and made us feel the oneness of our human nature, and what high hopes and longings may be buried under a load of misery and ignorance. With what ceaseless energy he has dragged out the last forms of social oppression ! The Fleet prison crumbled at his touch; and even the paupers rejoiced in Christmas cheer, to the dismay and discomfiture of the parish beadle. Mr. Thackeray sang one prose song with many variations, heard first, he tells us, in old days beneath the solemn Syrian cedars, " Vanity of vani- ties, all is vanity, saith the preacher." How remorse- less his satire, yet with what sad earnestness he uses 23 the knife ; he cuts but to heal. If he regarded the world as a great hospital and all true teachers as sur- geons, it must be acknowledged that the estimate was not an untrue, if a partial one. Mr. Thackeray tried to show us how bad our human nature had become, and Mr. Dickens urged upon us its infinite possibility of good. Both did a true and needful work bravely. With Mr. Dickens we dream of men, women, and children almost too good for this world, yet very help- ful in urging us on to better things. With Mr. Thack- eray we wake in the cold grey of the morning and find our dream vanishing for a while in the cold actu- alities of life and character ; and so our dreams of good and satires on evil will alternate, until the good time when the poet and the workman shall be one. But another class of fiction-writers has arisen, represented in the writings of the brothers Kingsley, the authoress of "Adam Bede," "Jane Eyre," and "John Halifax, Gentleman," and numerous other writers of a similar character. These writers are more spiritual, and paint the deeper aspects of human life. They are more en rapport with the poetic spirit we have endeavoured to describe. They everywhere recognize the higher rela- tionships of life, and regard all its details in their light. Though they have some of the highest qualifications of fiction writers, in their brilliant powers of description and their subtle entrance into phases of human sin and sorrow, they have plainly chosen a narrative style as a means of conveying higher teaching. We are not now concerned to say how far they have succeeded in their task, or what dangers attend it. On the whole, we thankfully recognize the change, and if the most scep- tical on the tendencies of present literature will com- pare modern works of fiction with the productions of such writers as Richardson and Fielding, they must be profoundly thankful for the change. For the first 24 time, we have writings of great artistic power, realiz- ing the divine deeds of human nature, and scouting a manhood which does not realize its higher destiny. " Ten years ago," writes Mr. Maurice, in a paper on Froude's last volume, " an eminent German scholar expressed his astonishment at the amount and the value of the contributions which England had recently made to historical literature. And, certainly, the Victorian era will be as memorable for these contributions as for anything which it has given to literature. That two great histories of Greece should not only have been undertaken, but should have become popular, was a fact which, he says, no experience in his country of books enabled him to account for. He accepted, if he did not suggest, the interpretation that those who were in the midst of political action must feel an interest in political experience, from whatever age or nation they are derived, which the most diligent student cannot feel." Certainly, an age which can boast of Lord Macaulay's splendid fragment, of Mr. Froude's Tudors, Mr. Grote's History of Greece, Mr. Carlyle's Cromwell and Frederick, and the complete labours of Mr. Merivale and Dean Milman, may aspire to take its stand by any period in its loving and laborious concern for the events of past days. Un- doubtedly, our practical interest as a nation in politics has occasioned a demand for books of this kind ; the more so because our politics are not fashioned on a modern theory, but are linked to the history and associations of centuries. To Sir James Mackin- tosh we are largely indebted for the philosophic spirit of recent history. With laborious care, if not in a popular style, he traced the characteristics of modern institutions in the habits of our Saxon forefathers. In the rude expressions of approval or reproach from the spectators at the old Saxon Council he 25 hears the first murmur of that cry for freedom which has found another expression in the growth of British liberty, and in the rude ordeals of justice the determination that something shall stand between the will of the judge and the fate of the cri- minal. Every reader of modern histories will have noticed what deep concern there has been to make history the biography of a nation, and not to rest content with the chronicle of kingly deeds and great political events. " No trifle," says a graceful contribu- tor to our literature, "has been neglected by the modern historian; a mouldering medal is a letter of twenty centuries. In these wrecks of many storms, which time washes on the shore, the scholar has looked patiently for treasure. The painting round a vase, hieroglyphics on stones dug laboriously from under- ground, the wrath of a demagogue, the drollery of a farce, the point of an epigram, each possesses its own point and interest." Lord Macaulay's brilliant repre- sentations of English social and political life realized his own prediction, that when English history came to be written truly, it would be run after in the circu- lating libraries with the eagerness manifested for the latest novel. Lord Macaulay's rhetorical style, how- ever, almost belongs to a past age. He would be compelled to describe the invader of a hundred cheeses in the same faultless antitheses as the hero of a hundred battles. His utilitarian philosophy, more- over, taints his writings with an indifference to any- thing higher than that which meets the exigencies of the time. We much prefer the style and spirit of Froude. He writes in simple, quiet English, and with a serious spirit worthy of one who is writing of the generations of old. We know nothing in modern literature superior to his account of the dawn of the Reformation in England. Everyone who takes up his 26 book must feel that it had never been written before. It may seem hardly satisfactory to refer to Mr. Thomas Carlyle as a writer of history, yet he has accom- plished enough in this department to make his name great. If ever we were following the fortunes of men and women, and not merely of events in history, it is in the pages of Mr. Carlyle. With all his wild and wayward eloquence, and his free handling of men and manners, he is rigidly exact in his historical data " you may trust him," says Mr. Kingsley, " to the crossing of a #." On the whole, the spirit which we have described as belonging to the literature of our age penetrates its history. We have the workings of a nation's inner life, and not the outward accidents of its being. Its hopes, sorrows, and struggles are pictured to us as if they belonged to one man. Doubtless, our more serious treatment of human nature has prepared us for this. Just as we have discovered in things physical that " Within the smallest dust before the tempest hurled Lie locked the principles which regulate a world," so our deeper treatment of one man's experience has broadened into our dealings with the world. But we now come to a branch of our literature which, perhaps, more than any other has felt the. influence of Germany our critical and scientific works. We can easily imagine what effect the eager pursuit of meta- physical inquiry would have upon the study of philology in Germany. The mechanical rules of grammar, and the shallow, exact, and artificial scholarship which obtained in central Europe and England, gave place to an exhausting examination of words and forms of speech, which has produced the most marvellous results. Words and sentences were studied as the symbols and forms of thoughts. The governments of a sentence were traced to mental laws, and not merely referred to empirical rules of syntax. The eager study of 27 comparative philology took the place of pedantic efforts to write elegant Latin sentences, or turn the contents of a newspaper into Greek hexameters. Thus, while the philosophers were giving their absorbed attention to the operations of the mind, the scholars were examining its methods of communication in forms of speech. The history and manners of antiquity were ransacked for fresh light on words and idioms. One of the greatest German scholars, Wolf, enunciated the dictum that our object in the study of antiquity should be to gain a knowledge of men as they existed in ancient times. Other distinguished scholars followed in the same direction, and never perhaps, since the days of the Alexandrian schools, has there been such a scene of earnest study as that which obtained in Germany at the commencement of the century. Many of the most earnest workers, who contributed not a little to the general results, were so poor as scarcely to be able to earn their daily bread. Of course, there was a good deal of wild and dangerous speculation resulting from such unwonted activity. But that the scholarship of Europe was almost revolutionized may be gathered from the fact that almost every dictionary and text-book of authority, and every critical commentary on the text of sacred or profane writings, are founded on the labours of German scholars. The effect on English scholarship is, on the whole, of the happiest kind. The richness and suggestiveness of German commentators never show to such advan- tage as when they re-appear in the terse and tempered productions of English criticism. With every acknow- ledgment to our German neighbours who have sup- plied us with so much of the raw material, we think a good scholarly English work unrivalled for its exposi- tory precision and directness of purpose. No age can, in our opinion, compare with this in the production of laborious and faithful criticism on the text of sacred and classical writings. We now and then encounter them on a dangerously destructive errand ; but we are nevertheless far too slow in acknowledging the amazing benefits which the critical labours of the last fifty years have conferred upon us. Shades of meaning containing new and delicate turns of thought have been brought to light in the literature of the old world, which have yielded a rich harvest to the student. Our steadiest and most systematic thinkers have greatly benefited by the change, and the most orthodox contributors to the literature of the day reflect the general improve- ment in critical investigation. Nor must we forget that by the labours of our scho- lars in the direction of translation, the masses are able to enjoy the great productions of the master minds of all ages and of all countries. "Let me," said Lord Macaulay, "felicitate those who are not so fortunate as to have learned the ancient languages, that by means of the English tongue they may obtain admit- tance to intellectual wealth more precious than the greatest scholars in the days of Charles the Fifth could obtain, more precious than could be obtained even by such men as Aldus, Erasmus, and Melancthon." Our age may well boast not only of the amazing advance made in every department of physical science, but in the literature through which it is communi- cated to the world. Our men of science vie with each other not only in the production of rich and ster- ling treatises, but in the annual composition of shorter papers to keep the public abreast of their labours. Nor are we to believe, as some would tell us, that in the march of the physical sciences all faith in the unseen will disappear. The blood, indeed, almost curdles in the veins when we read at the conclusion of one of our most profoundly scientific books, that the nature which 29 we see is the God whom we seek. But we have no fear that such a blank negation will be the result of our progress. The accomplished author of "Man and his Dwelling-place" has shown us how the discoveries of modern science are opening up to tis infinite vistas both of time and space ; so that while certain scientific investigations may seem to have a materializing ten- dency, they are more than counterbalanced by broader and richer thoughts in another direction. I introduce the fine arts at the conclusion of a hasty sketch of this kind, not with the slightest intention of dwelling at any length on the great work of the modern schools, but only for the sake of showing that their characteristics in the Victorian era very much resemble those already described as belonging to lite- rature. Before the pre-Raphaelite innovation, which, with all its exaggerations and extravagances, has been the salvation of British art, and is now its hope, a con- ventional artificialism similar to that which had ob- tained in literature was bringing the fine arts into contempt. Pictures were compared with pictures in- stead of with nature, and there was little attempt to reproduce faithfully the forms and colouring of the outer world. An even conventional tone familiar to the purchaser of French plum-boxes appeared to satisfy the taste of the critics and the public. Before the brotherhood made their famous protest, Turner had already startled the art world by his innovations in landscape painting, and Mulready, Leslie, Maclise, Creswick, Egg, Hubert, Dyce, Anthony, and F. M. Brown had already done much to redeem English art by sterling work. Turner, above all, had covered his canvas with creations of wonderful power, studying nature in all her mysteries, and realizing the great truth that, in all her changes of cloud, sunshine, and mist, she does but mirror the passing moods of the soul. All 30 must remember the feeling with which they fir