A TWELFTH BUNDLE OF BOOKS. BY GEORGE GILFILLAN. THE change in the form and the time of publication of HOGG'S INSTRUCTOR, as well as our numerous and greatlyincreasing avocations, render it advisable in us to give up the writing of these Bundles.' We do so with a feeling of regret, for they have been the means of bringing us in contact with, and, in some cases, of aiding and cheering on, many fine and gifted spirits. Intercourse with the writings of such, as well as with the readers of the INSTRUCTOR, we by no means intend to resign; but, as to the former, it will assume another shape than that of noticing in such 'Bundles' as this their generous aspirations. We have now, therefore, to give a brief account of the few books remaining on our table. We find, first, Dr Lang's 'Freedom and Independence in the Golden Lands of Australia.' Dr Lang is unquestionably one of the most remarkable men of the present day. Whatever may be thought of the prudence of much of his language, or the practicability of some of his schemes, there can be but one opinion as to his energy of mind, determination of purpose, and perseverance of character. He is, like O'Connell, a born agitator, but an honest and patriotic one. Had he, in addition to his own power of intellect, possessed the O'Connell unction of eloquence, he would have become a person as influential as the Big Dan himself. He speaks well, indeed, in a clear and manly manner, but does not rouse the imagination or heat the passions; his delivery, like that of many ministers, has been spoiled by preaching; and hence you read with far more pleasure than you hear him. In Australia, he has long been the lion; and, when he returns, will find, probably, a still higher pedestal of influence awaiting him. May he use it wisely! His book before us is a vigorous and eloquent exposé of the wrongs of Australia-includes in it profound views of the subject of colonisation in general, and gives glowing pictures of the great and golden future which seems before that singular land. One remembers, at this crisis, with deep interest the lines written twenty-four years ago by Campbell to emigrants on their way to New South Wales, in which the poet mounts into the prophet, and uses such remarkable expressions as 'Land of the free, thy kingdom is to come;' The lines of empire in thine infant face;' and predicts, in short, all the elements which have entered already into Australia's greatness, except that golden crown which, as if let down from heaven, has appeared so suddenly upon its infant head. Dr Lang is not only a thinker and an eloquent writer, but has a very considerable dash of the poet about him; and we have seen some metrical versions of the Psalms We recomfrom his pen of no little spirit and poetic force. mend emphatically his present work to all who would know something about the most interesting and hopeful country on which at present the sun shines. Archibald Prentice, of Manchester, sends us the first volume of his History of the Anti-Corn-Law League' that great combination against commercial oppression, so remarkable in itself, so blessed in its results, and so important in the lesson it has left us, as to the power wielded by wise and determined men, when they act in unison and follow out a good purpose, as if, for the time being, there were no other in the world. Mr Prentice was connected with this agitation from the beginning; he watched its progress with unwearied interest; he fought its battles with unwavering courage; and he has told its story with earnest fidelity. We had but a comparatively small connection with the movement, yet we did for it, in our own locality, what we could; we warmly sympathised with it; we have read with much interest Mr Prentice's very accurate and entertaining account of its commencing struggles, and shall wait with eagerness for the coming volumes, recording the close of this noble commercial epic. Of Alexander Smith's Poems, it would delight us to say much. But, in the first place, we have spoken of their merits often before; and, secondly, we are completely forestalled by others. No volume of poetry for twenty or thirty years has so united all sorts and sizes of critics in The author thinks his reception 'tolerable' its praise. only; he had surely expected too much. If his second poem receive a similar welcome, he may be well pleased. Bating a notice in the Economist,' displaying more than that print's usual literary stolidity, and a cleverish, carping, sneering critique in the London Examiner,' which seemed aimed at another through his sides, we have heard of no review of his beautiful poem but largely acknowledged his very extraordinary merits. The blame he has met, bears only to the praise the proportion which Falstaff's bread did to his sack. If Keats had received a tithe of the applause, he had probably been still alive; and Shelley, if thus welcomed, would never have quitted England. His poetry is somewhat sanguine and flesh-coloured; but, in richness of imagery, and often in music of versification, has not been surpassed this century. Some dunces have talked about his'obscurity!' Now, the fact is, that there is less obHis scurity in him than in any good poet of the age. images stand up, always distinct, and clear, and bold, as statues or pillars of fire. It was, we are fond of remembering, in the end of April, 1851, that, returning from a visit to Comrie, we found the first rude draught of the Life-Drama,' written in a straggling, half-formed hand, and accompanied by a very modest note, waiting for us. We threw it among a heap of MS. till we should have time to read it. Taking it up a week or two after, we were struck with some of the lines that opened; we read on, and found a genuine poet, a bright particular star,' and lost no time in communicating the intelligence to the world. We had had a similar pleasure formerly in reading 'The Roman,' and have had a third gush of the same delight in recently perusing the effusions of a Cumberland youth (Bigg by name) of uncommon poetical promise, whom we propose by and by introducing to the public. Mr Smith has been lately deluged' with advice. We will not add to this well-meant annoyance, save by telling him to follow the bent of his genius; but at the same time to remember, that that genius is a God-given power, and that he ought seriously to ponder how best to turn it to the world's account. He has hitherto been amusing himself on the sea-shore, picking up shells and pearls; let him prepare for breasting the billows, and striking out on the real sea of life. His work is entitled a Life-Drama,' but he has hardly yet begun to live. John Nevay's little volume has also met, on the whole, a very kindly reception. Some of its finer passages are about to be translated into French. Lord Lindsay, to whom the pleasing book is dedicated, has become its warm and generous patron; and the heart of the fine old man is at present glad within him. Mr Thomas Young, of Edinburgh, has issued a new colWe spoke of them with approbation lection of his poems. some four years ago, and have had no occasion to recall our verdict. They are well worthy of perusal, both for their own very respectable merits, and for that of their author, whose perseverance and pursuit of knowledge and poetry under difficulties, reflect on him the highest credit. Mr Leask's Lays of the Future' have been somewhat harshly handled by the London prints. They are unequal, but contain in them some of the finest thoughts and passages we have read for a long period. If Mr Leask were studying versification more carefully, he would be a much more successful poet. He has something better than rhetoric or eloquence; he has the genuine poetic stuff in him, and is an honour, both as a prose-writer and a sacred poet, to the body with which he is connected. Mr Frame, of Coupar-Angus, has sent us a treatise on 'Original Sin.' It were beyond our plan to enter on a discussion of the dark topic. We may say, however, that his views are very much those of Dr Payne and the late admirable Dr Russel of Dundee, and that Mr Frame has ex pressed them in a modest and earnest manner. His little book discovers powers which might be usefully employed on less thorny and perplexing themes. He seems to know about as much of original sin as Jonathan Edwards, or any other man, and that is little or nothing. Forest and Fireside Hours,' by J. Westby Gibson, once better known as the Sherwood Forest Youth, is a very delightful collection of poetry, sweet, genuine, rural song, smelling of the green country; and, whether he sing of May or Autumn, whether of summer twilight, or the fall of the leaf, or of the song of the broken bough, his melody is true, plaintive, beautiful. His preface, too, is all flushed over with poetic feeling and imagery; and we are glad to see that suffering and trial have not broken his bough, but that hope is abiding fresh and strong in his manly bosom. We cordially wish prosperity to the poetry and prospects of the Sherwood Forest Youth. Dr Thom of Liverpool sends us a sketch of the late Samuel M Culloch of Liverpool. It is quite worthy of Dr T.'s energetic and fluent pen, and gives a pleasing picture of a man of remarkable worth, and whose death-bed, in its calm and depth of submission, rose to the sublime. Mr M'Culloch was one of the most eminent physicians in Liverpool. Dr Simpson's book on Homoeopathy is written with all the power we had expected. How this extraordinary man has managed to find time to write it, we, familiarised though we are by personal experience to what may be done by the diligent and dogged employment of snatches of leisure, cannot understand. It is a book swarming with facts, bristling with arguments, and it reads, even to non-medical men, like a novel. Dr Simpson is an intense hater of humbug and pretence, and his book is intended as a sledge hammer on the head of a numerous class whom he rates as oracular hoaxes. How far he is right in this judgment we are not qualified to say, but certainly his book will not be easily answered, although it may easily enough be abused. It is, in style, temper, spirit, and ability, every way worthy of his world-wide and well-won reputation. Neale's edition of 'The Pilgrim's Progress' has been received with a shout of universal derision. Even Puseyites will not march through Coventry with its author, in his monstrous attempt to mutilate the Pilgrim's Progress.' We refer our readers to the last number of the Eclectic' for our fuller mind upon this most impudent of books. We have only had time to read a portion of Binney's Is it Possible to Make the Best of Both Worlds?' nor is it necessary to criticise it, its popularity is so decided. We heard him deliver the substance of it in Exeter Hall; we did not then entirely coincide with his views. We thought he painted his picture too richly, and in rose colours. We wondered how the sermon he gave would have suited the text, Strive to enter in at the straight gate.' We remembered having heard often of the pangs of the new birth. The memory of the martyrs of every age came across us, from Socrates (who sometimes had no coat, although, to be sure, he got plenty of hemlock for nothing) to the persecuted patriots and thinkers of our day. We thought, too, of Bunyan's Slough of Despond, and Carlyle's Everlasting No, and wondered if the lecturer meant to assure that audience that they were certain to escape the tortures which, in pursuit of truth and virtue, their betters have endured in every age before them. He proved, indeed, what required no proof, that the more moral and regular a man is, the more peacefully and happily he lives; but did not show that, beyond mere morality, to gain and to live out spiritual truth, ever was, now is, and ever shall be, a difficult and laborious process-a race, a conflict, and an agony, under the requirements of the laws of which many succumb, crying out, It is a hard saying-who can hear it?' Mr Binney's object seems to show, that we might get to heaven through a heaven here-in a first-class carringe! We have grave doubts upon the subject. The book, however, so far as we have read it, is written with all Mr Binney's usual ability, and has run like wildfire. The Patriot, a Poem,' by J. W. King, dedicated, by permission, to Mazzini, displays rather patriotic fire than poetic genius. The introduction is clever and spirited, and his hits at Carlyle, particularly, tell. We commend Louis' Schooldays, a Story for Boys,' not only to boys, but to bearded men, who may learn much from its simple, but interesting and instructive story. The last book on our table is the bulkiest, and also one of the best. We refer to Mr Dawson's Abridged Statistical History of Scotland.' This book, when contrasted with similar works at the beginning of this century, is a striking proof how fast and far Scotland has advanced. It is no dry skeleton-list of parishes. It is starred with poetic quotation, and sparkles with romantic narrative. It combines fulness and accuracy, with elegance, interest, and concentration. Open it at what page or parish you may, 'out there flies a trope,' or a piece of poetry whirrs away, like a muircock startled amid the bonnie, bloom. ing heather.' No book can be a more instructive or de lightful companion in a jaunt to the country; and just as Professor Simpson extracts interest and fun from the calculations and the contradictions of medical theories, so Mr Dawson breathes on the dry dust of Sir John Sinclair and his thousand and one clerical coadjutors, and makes it to live, move, and assume ideal shapes. We lay down the big but intenscly interesting volume, thinking better of our dear native land, 'Stern Caledonia, bleak and wild, and thankful to the fine-hearted stranger (for Mr D. is, we think, an Englishman) who has done poetic justice to her mountains, floods, lakes, rivers, straths, glens, and the innumerable glories streaming from her scenery, her men, and her ancient and modern story. And most thankful are we that we can thus wind up our 'Bundles' in the language of praise. A MATHEMATICAL STORY: LAPLACE AND BIOT. An anecdote of M. Laplace, the celebrated author of the 'Mecanique Celeste,' was lately read before the French Academy by Mons. J. B. Biot, one of Laplace's most eminent pupils, and now, we believe, filling the chair of the mathematics. M. Biot terms his paper, or memoir, an anecdote; but it is more a piece of entertaining seientific autobiography, illustrating the love of science, hope. fulness of heart, and magnanimity of nature, of both pupil and tutor. It is now fifty years ago (commences M. Biot) since one of the greatest philosophers France has produced took by the hand a young and inexperienced student of the mathe matics, who had the presumption to form the resolution of personally waiting upon the great professor, although a complete stranger, and requesting his examination of a crude essay connected with the above science. At the time I speak of (1803), the Academy hardly demanded more of young students, than that they should at least show zeal in whatever engaged their studies. I was food of the study of geometry, but, like other young men, lost a good deal of time in capriciously dallying with other sciences. Nevertheless, my ambition was to penetrate those higher regions of the mathematics on which the laws of the heavenly bodies could be defined. But the works of the ancients on this grand subject are abstruse, and natu rally taxed a tyro's comprehension on the threshold of his inquiries. At the commencement of the present century, M. Laplace was labouring at the composition of a work, now celebrated, which was to unite, in a comprehensive form, the calculation of the old astronomers as well as modern, and submit them to the test of new calcula tions. The first volume of M. Laplace's book was promised to appear under the title of the Mecanique Celeste,' it being then in the press. This fact induced me to take a step which was both precipitate and imper tinent, although it fortunately proved successful, and opened the door of M. Laplace's studio to me. I had the presumption to write to the professor, requesting that he would permit me to assist him in correcting the proof sheets of his celebrated work, while they were proceeding through the press. M. Laplace replied to my letter politely, but excused himself from complying with its request, on the plea that his calculations might become anticipated in publication, by their being submitted to a stranger. This refusal, reasonable as it was, did not satisfy me; and so greatly did my zeal outweigh my sense of propriety, that I made a second appeal to the learned author, representing, that all I wished was to test the amount of my own proficiency in the mathematics, by having the opportunity of inspecting and studying his valuable pages. I stated, that my prevailing taste was to pursue calculations of the abstruse order of his book; and that, if he granted me permission, I would devote myself carefully to the task of endeavouring to discover any typographical errors that might exist in his volume then going through the press. My persistence disarmed him; and, in short, he sent me all the proof-sheets, accompanied by an exceedingly kind letter of encouragement. I need not say with what ardour I devoted myself to my task. I could well apply to my case the Latin maxim- Violente rapiunt illud.' At the date of this occurrence, I resided at some distance from Paris; but from time to time I went thither, taking with me whatever I had got through of my revision, and I certainly found opportunities for making errata. At each succeeding visit, Laplace received me in the most encouraging and friendly manner, examining my revisions attentively, the while discussing with me, in the most condescending manner, my favourite topic of the mathematics. His kind reception and deportment won all my confidence. I frequently drew his attention to what I thought were difficulties in my studies, but he always helped me over the stile condescendingly, although his valuable time must have been somewhat unfairly trespassed upon. But, in fact, Laplace, out of sheer good-nature, often pretended to consider questions of importance the simplest propositions, which my inexperience caused me to submit to him. Shortly after I had become his regular visiter, and was received as a guest, or rather pupil, I was so fortunate as to accidentally offer a suggestion, which threw some new light on the mode in which mathematical calculations were to be made in correction of Euler's work, De Insignia Promotione Methodi Tangentium.' In Petersbourg's scales, there are classes of questions in geometry of a very singular kind, which Euler has only partly solved. The singularity of the problems consisted in explaining the nature or true character of an irregular curve, of an almost shapeless form to any eye but a mathematical one. His description of irregular curve is so crooked, and full of minor and mixed irregularities of shape, that it is quite capable of confusing a beginner in the mathematics in his attempts at rendering it amenable to mathematical principles and rules. It presented to me a problem which no one had, I believed, fairly solved, Euler and Laplace inclusive, and it was important enough to engage my special attention and severest application. whether I ought to accept it; but the judgment of Laplace being so strongly in behalf of my doing so, I acted upon his advice, and prepared myself for the coming ordeal. I presented myself at the Academy the following day accordingly. By permission of the president, I proceeded to draw upon the large black table, used for ocular demonstrations, the figures and formula I was desirous to employ as modes of explanation before an auditory. When the opportunity was afforded me to commence, the table at which I stood was immediately surrounded by the geometricians of the Academy. General Bonaparte, then just returned from Egypt, was one of those seated amongst them. I overheard Napoleon, in conversation with M. Monge, a celebrated academician of the day, express his interest in the debut of one who, like himself, had been a student in the Polytechnic School. This was a gratifying circumstance; but, to my surprise, Bonaparte pretended to anticipate the contents of my paper, by exclaiming aloud to Monge, who sat near him-What! surely I know those figures again; I have certainly met those symbols before!' I could not help fancying, that the general was extremely premature in thus declaring knowledge of what no one save M. Laplace had any opportunity of examining, at least by my consent; but, occupied as I was, every other thought gave way before the one great aim I had in view, to explain my calculations in correction of Euler's problem. In my agitation, I neither thought of Napoleon's military greatness nor his political power; consequently, his presence on those accounts did not trouble me much. Nevertheless, Bonaparte's wellknown talents as a geometrician, which had been not only exercised in the Polytechnic School, but on a wider and bolder scale during his military career, particularly in fortification, joined to his well-known quickness and foresight, were sufficient to make me pause ere I attempted to communicate matters, in the study of which I might prove, after all, but a mere tyro. However, it was only the hesitation of a few minutes. The thought that Laplace had been my adviser re-assured me. I proceeded with my demonstrations, and soon found myself in the midst of them, explaining very freely, and I believe, also, as clearly, the nature, point, and results of my researches. On conclusion, I received numerous assurances from the academicians that my calculations possessed considerable scientific value. Laplace, Bonaparte, and Lacroix, were appointed adjudicators upon my contribution to the Academy, and they accorded me the usual honours of a successful memoire. It is not necessary that the translator should follow M. Biot's explanations of his actual method of solving the pro-interest you.' I followed him, and he made me sit down blem, since they are extremely difficult to explain within moderate limits either of space or patience; suffice, that, having dived to the profoundest depths of the science, he says he rose up possessed of the Eureka-viz., in certain unique analytical and symbolical equations, by which occult means he solved the problem in question. My calculations (pursues M. Biot) were duly and patiently gone into and finished, their object being to explain the nature or characteristics of this irregular curve. The symbols or hieroglyphics I chose to employ, for want of any better, covered many folios of foolscap, and finally I submitted my manuscript to my excellent tutor. He examined it with manifest surprise and curiosity, and appeared much pleased with the production. The next day he told me that I must make a copy of my memoire, for the purpose of its being laid before the Academy, and that he would introduce me as the author of an original paper on the mathematics, which I was to read. This was an honour I did not even think of, and I felt in doubt After the séance, I accompanied M. Laplace to his residence; he very openly expressed his satisfaction at the neatness and finish (these were his words) of my demonstrations, and he said his pleasure was greater still, from my having had the good sense to take his advice, and not hazard too much to theory. But I was quite unprepared for what was to come. When we reached home, Laplace invited me to come at once into his study, for,' said he, I have something there to show you that I am sure will in his fauteuil, while he rummaged amongst his keys for one which belonged to a cupboard that, he asserted, had not been opened for years. Out of this cupboard he took a roll of yellow and dusty papers, which he carried to the window, threw up the sash, and then began energetically beating the manuscripts against the wall, intent, apparently, on divesting them of the dust and spiders which had made the writings their resting-place. At length the papers were in a condition to be deciphered; and Laplace put them before me, to make what I could of the figures inscribed upon the old manuscripts. I had gone, however, but a little way in my examination, when (conceive my surprise at the discovery) I found that the mouldy papers contained all my problems, and those also of Euler, treated and solved even by the identical method I had believed myself to have alone discovered! Laplace informed me, that he had arrived at the solution of most of Euler's problems many years ago, but that he had been stopped in his calculations by the same ob stacle of which he had warned me-the fear of carrying theory too far. Hoping to be able to reconcile his doubts sooner or later, he had put the calculations aside, and had said nothing about them to any one, not even to me, notwithstanding my having taken up the same theme, and attempted to fuist my wonderful symbols upon him as a novelty! I cannot express what I felt during the short hour in which Laplace laid before me these proofs of his professional talents and the magnanimity of his nature. The success of my paper was everything to me; but, had it pleased Laplace's humour to have questioned its originality before the Academy received it, I should have lost heart altogether, and never dared again to put forward any claims of mine to being an original investigator in science. Professional abnegation is seldom enough practised in trifling matters, much less in great ones, like that I have adduced to the honour of Laplace. But, besides the liberality of the act of keeping his work a secret from me until it could do me no harm, the professor exercised throughout such delicacy towards me as a humble student, that it won my deep respect. My career, ever since the day he took me by the hand, and presented me to the most eminent learned society of France, has been one of success-success, I fear, far beyond my merits. But, under Heaven, it is Laplace I have to thank for all, and for the honourable station I have been permitted to attain. To him I owe a debt of gratitude I can never adequately repay. The extent of my power is to make these general acknowledgments of his great worth, and to offer this public testimony to my appreciation of his rare talents. His influence upon the progress of physical as well as mathematical science has been immense. During fifty years, nearly all those who have cultivated such studies, have gone for instruction to the works of Laplace; we have been enlightened by his discoveries, and we have depended considerably upon his labours for any improvements our own works possess. There are few now living who were the associates of Laplace; but the scientific world must ever do homage to his genius." * ROBERT OWEN AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. SECOND ARTICLE. the Rev. A. Campbell well observed, applied to a goat as well as a man-was to establish the doctrine of fatalism and irresponsibility. And hence he labours to make it appear that man has no hand in the formation of his character. Circumstances, like another Atropos, hold the scissors of destiny, clip out his character, robe him with it, and then pull the strings to make him move and figure in the world. In order to make this position plausible, Owen has been careful to employ very general language. The whole of his argumentation has been thus expressed by G. J. Holyoake, one of his disciples:- The opinions and actions of men result from their original susceptibilities, and the external influences which affect them.' To those who are but moderately acquainted with metaphysical speculations, there will be little difficulty in recognising the sensationalism of the French School, as expounded by Condillac and Helvetius, and which has been carried to such an extreme by Cabanis. It seeks to reduce all our knowledge, and the faculties by which it is acquired, to ¦ sensation. We thus find ourselves in a new region of metaphysics; and we naturally imagine that this sensation must be a wonderful thing, since the whole of our knowledge of earth and heaven, and God and man, is nothing else.'t This view ignores the activity of the mind, which is its great characteristic, and asserts that it is merely passive-the recipient of impressions—the substance on which circumstances are daguerreotyped! All we know of human nature,' says Holyoake, 'in refe rence to morality, is included in the respective qualities of circumstances and susceptibility!' The term which Owen employed, and for which 'susceptibility' is used as an equivalent, was organisation.' This marked the limits of his analysis. That man had this, he had been able to make out; that it was derived and not self-created, he had also been able to evolve; and from these premises he jumped to the conclusion that man could not be respon sible. Unfortunately for Owen, the inference is unwar ranted; and a previous inquiry must be made into the nature of man's organisation' in order to see whether or not it contains elements of which responsibility ca be predicated; for, as his reasoning stands, if we su stitute the word ass instead of man, the conclusion s equally valid; and yet who but an Owenite or an inmate of Bedlam would affirm the identity of their natures? To say that we can know nothing of human nature except as a susceptible something, is the grossest nonsense; but nevertheless just such philosophy as we would expect from the oracle of secularism.' Activity is an essential quality of mind, and of it we are directly conscious. Of the pas sivity of the mind we are only indirectly cognisant. THE Metaphysics of Owenism,' or the views which it embodies with regard to the moral constitution of man, are more important than its socialism; for they form the basis; and, when they are destroyed, the whole fabric of the 'new moral world' must tumble. The results of his investigation into human nature, Owen characterises as 'divine laws.' On these he rested all his strength; they were the fulcrum of the lever by which he was to move In endeavouring to test the truth of Owen's assertion the world. But no man ever attempted to philosophise with respect to responsibility, the proper inquiry is into who had less claim to be called a philosopher. With no the nature of man's faculties; for in this lies the great disgreat grasp of intellect, and with no singular acuteness, tinction between him and the inferior animals. It is the he was utterly incapable of grappling with the great pro- veriest trifling to stop short at organisation, and say we blems of mental and moral science. In truth, his controcan go no further. He who does so proclaims his incapa versial obtusity and the productions of his pen alike de- city to be either a philosopher or a moral reformer. Nor will clare that, when he abandoned the personal superintendit do to attempt to settle the question by an appeal to our ence of the New Lanark Mills, and the petty details of ward visible facts. Owen based his conclusion on an induc his infant schools, in order to explore the regions of phi- tion of these, and, as J. S. Mill has shown, signally failed. losophic inquiry, and 'be in endless mazes lost,' he wandered No man can ascertain all the circumstances that influence most strangely from his fit and natural orbit.'t Like the mind of another, and, therefore, can draw no such conHobbes with his mathematical theories, Owen, although clusion as Owen did. His theory of the formation of charac egregiously wrong, has always been lamentably obstinate. Because men have rejected his conclusions, he has per- he was wont to give on this point betrays his obtusity, ter was thus lamentably defective. The illustration which sisted in calling them fools, and in proclaiming that and shows the fallacy of his inference. Take,' says he, wisdom dwelt with the philosopher of New Lanark alone. In literature, we know of no parallel to Owen's attempts James's, amid wealth and patronage, the other in St 'two children of similar organisation, place the one in St at metaphysical speculation, save the endeavour of the Giles's, amid thieves and poverty-the first may become a author of 'Leviathan' to do Homer into English verse.' judge, the latter a criminal at the bar; reverse the circumThe results in both cases are almost beneath criticism. thief. Therefore, their characters are formed for, not by stances, and the thief might be the judge, and the judge the His aim in his divine laws-laws, by the way, which, On M. Biot has descended the mantle of Laplace. He is reputed to be the greatest living mathematician in France. He is a member of the Institute and Academy of Sciences, and an honorary member of the French Academy of the Belles-lettres. + Dr Lees' Metaphysics of Owenism Dissected. Preface, p. 6. them.' On this the following clear and able remarks For some good remarks on French sensationalism, see G. II. Lewes History of Philosophy, vol. iv., p. 60-66. + Lectures on Intellectual Philosophy. By John Young, LLD. וי have been made by one of the acutest opponents of Owenism. The cases,' says Dr F. R. Lees, are mere illustra tions of an acknowledged maxim upon which there is no dispute, and which is the principle of all education, viz., that change the constituents of a complex cause, and you will alter the effect. Owen, however, manufactures the case to exclude man from the formation of his own character; for, if the organisation is always taken into account' as an active power, then the maxim, that character of man is formed for, and not by, him is disproved. But, to argue that because organisation and circumstances together are the cause of different effects, as the one or other is altered, therefore circumstances separately are the cause; or, which is the same thing, that because character is formed by man and circumstances, therefore it is formed for man, and not by him, is to set logic and common sense at defiance.'* And this is what must be done before Owenism can be set up. By no process of reasoning can it be shown that man is not an agent in the formation of his character; that he acts, and yet does not act; that he thinks and feels, and yet that it is not he who does either the one or the other. Whether man acts freely or not, is another question, and one which may be discussed; but that he does act, we hold to be beyond the reach of cavil; and, therefore, the dogma of Owen, that character is formed for a man, and not at all by him, becomes a glaring untruth. But it is in the doctrine of 'moral freedom' in which the great principle of evil lies, according to him: while the doctrine of necessity contains the principle of good; and thus his 'truth without mystery' involves a very metaphysical question. Behold us now,' we may say with Tucker, arrived at the most intricate part of our journey, an impracticable wilderness, puzzled with mazes and perplexed with errors, where many mighty have fallen, and many sagacious lost their way; for shadows, clouds, and darkness cover it; or what flashes of light break out from time to time present the image of truth on opposite sides; the winding paths lead round the disappointed traveller to the spot whence he had set out, or involve him in difficulties, wherein neither Protestant nor Papist, neither divine nor philosopher, has yet found an opening, and which the sacred muse of Milton pronounced insuperable even by the devil himself.' t To rid this question of all its difficulties seems to be beyond the power of man; for just as the vital principle cannot be laid bare by the scalpel of the anatomist, so there are facts in our mental constitution which cannot be accounted for by the most skilful analysis of the metaphysician. But it must be kept in mind that it is one thing to know a fact, and another to explain how it should be so. In our researches upon this head, we must, therefore, admit the testimony of consciousness as decisive, even although we find it impossible to comprehend all it reveals; for our conceptivity is not a match for the universe; and to measure the sphere of reality by our ability to conceive in a determinate form, or imagine its contents in an analytic form, is to exclude ourselves from the belief of all that is supersensual, and I know not how much besides.' 'Now, for a proof of the fact of liberty,' continues Macvicar, we need not go to philosophy; we need not appeal to the structure of all languages, or to anything which relates to the past. That there is liberty for man, the consciousness that dwells in every particular breast loudly proclaims. Common sense will not bear to hear the fact of liberty made a question at all. From the philosophy of common sense, the speculation as to liberty or necessity is excluded. There is nothing which consciousness affirms more positively, more imperatively, than liberty. And, therefore, deny the soundness of her affirmation here, and it is nowhere trustworthy. Some other ground of philosophy than natural light' or common sense must in that Case be found. But there is no other ground; and, therefore, deny liberty, and there is an end to all legitimate philosophy.' Metaphysics of Owenism Dissected, p. 18. + Light of Nature Pursued. Vol. 1. Theology, c. 26. Inquiry into Human Nature, p. 56. 'How moral liberty is possible,' says Sir W. Hamilton, in man or God, we are utterly unable speculatively to understand. But, practically, the fact that we are free, is given to us in the consciousness of an uncompromising law of duty, in the consciousness of our moral accountability; and this fact of liberty cannot be redargued on the ground that it is incomprehensible, for the philosophy of the conditioned proves, against the necessitarian, that things there are which may, nay, must, be true, of which the understanding is wholly unable to construe to itself the possibility.' * With this consciousness of liberty, the sense of responsility is inseparably bound up. We can no more blot out the one from the mind than we can the other, without unhinging the whole mental constitution, and making man an idiot. When Owen, therefore, undertook to base his system on facts, and looked on this as a fiction, he committed a grievous error. But his theory annihilates itself; for, if one grant that the doctrine of necessity absolves the criminal from blame, the same doctrine absolves the magistrate who punishes him, or any one who chooses to retaliate the injury; and, therefore, nothing is gained. Owen may say, that there ought to be neither rewards nor punishments, praise nor blame; but, as his doctrine cannot change man's instincts, and as certain actions will excite horror, and others call forth resentment, so every form of hatred, every kind of outrage, can be effectually shielded under the plea of necessity; and then Mr Owen's great lever, his principle of good, turns out to be not worth a straw. Nor is Owen more successful when attempting to prove that, at least, for our feelings and belief, we cannot be justly answerable. His incapacity to distinguish things that differ, is equally conspicuous here as in his attempt to argue out irresponsibility for action. A man,' says he, is compelled, by his original constitution, to receive feelings and convictions independent of his will,' and then draws the inference, that in no way compatible with justice can he be held responsible for them. But this divine law contradicts the essence of Owenism; for, if a man is compelled by his original constitution to receive the feelings, &c., it is no longer circumstances that compel him-man compels himself to have what he likes!' If Mr Owen means, however, that man did not create his capacity for pleasure and pain, then we can assure him no man was ever a heretic on that point. If, however, he intended to say that man has no control over his feelings, he will be met by a flat contradiction. Although we cannot, by one act of will, destroy an emotion, we can most certainly modify it, and, in the end, repress it, by repeated volitions; and this is what is generally termed moral discipline. That a man's belief is independent of his will, at least in so far as drawing an inference from certain data is concerned, may be granted, and yet Owen's conclusion denied. That the judging faculty must decide in accordance with its own peculiar laws, just as the eye sees in accordance with the laws of vision, no one, we make bold to assert, will be found to deny. But the inquiry comes to be, Whence arises the diversity of judgment, even on the same data? That the cause of error in such a case is in the man, not out of him, is evident; and that it rests in no difference in the constitution of the judging faculty, will be admitted. Where, then, is the cause? The answer is clear: we have only to reflect on the influence which prejudice, passion, and carelessness have in distorting evidence; and, since we can be candid, calm, and careful in our inquiries after truth, we must be held responsible for every error which arises from our not being so. On Owen's social plans we deem it unnecessary to say much. The idea of dotting the world over with square towns, to be supported by land attached, and of bringing spoken of is not mere freedom from constraint and restraint, for this • Discussions on Philosophy, &c., p. 597. The 'liberty' here does not free us from necessity; but the 'liberty' for which Sir W. Hamilton contends involves true authorship on the part of man of his own actions-an 'absolute commencement' to volition. And this he shows is not more inconceivable than the scheme of necessity.' + Dr F. R. Lees. |