No. 195.

OF

POPULAR

LITERATURE

THE DUBLIN MEETING. Ir is a glowing day towards the close of August. We are in one of the quadrangles of an ancient university, which is shewing an unusual bustle for the season. Wheeled vehicles are driving out and in; ladies and gentlemen are moving about; things in general wear a holiday aspect. Yet there is something of thinking concerned also, for many of the gentlemen, as they move along, are perusing printed papers. It is the British Association for the Advancement of Science, met in Trinity College, Dublin. Here are scientific and literary men from England, from the continent, from America, assembled together in social congress, with a much larger number of the like sort of men belonging to Ireland, to read papers and hold discussions, and to indulge in the pleasure of seeing each other in the body. They meet under the temporary presidency of the Rev. Humphrey Lloyd, and with the friendly countenance of the Queen's vicegerent, the Earl of Carlisle. The halls of a beautiful new building belonging to the College, are devoted to the seven or eight sections into which the Association is divided; and there will the sections meet accordingly each forenoon for a week to come. There is a lively foreconsciousness of the pleasant excitements of the week on almost every face one meets.

This said British Association must not be supposed to be one thing. It is many things put together. Going into the house of meeting, we see placards directing us to Section A, Astronomy and General Physics; Section B, Chemistry; Section C, Geology; Section D, Natural History; Section E, Geography and Ethnography; Section F, Statistics; and Section G, Mechanics; and we soon find how peculiar is each of these establishments. In Section A, you see a handful of hard-headed geometrical sort of men, entirely absorbed in co-ordinates and co-efficients, and who 'fit audience find, though few.' They might be plotting treason; for nobody ever heeds or hears a word of anything they do. Now and then, a couple of ladies may be seen in the benches in front, hypocritically looking as if they understood the problems sketched on the black boards; we shall charitably suppose them to be the wives or daughters of the hard-headed gentlemen on the platform. Section B is also a mysterious little-heard-of section, of small audience, and few ladies. The smallest rooms are always assigned to these two sciences. Section C, on the other hand, has always a large room, its science being at once intelligible and controversial - ergo, attractive for the multitude. Two-thirds of the audience are ladies. The leading men on the platform, the readers and

PRICE 1d.

commentators on papers, are a hearty kind of people, indulging much in beard and moustache, frank and loud of speech, roughly jocular, but good-humoured in discussion, and remarkable for never agreeing with one another about anything. A very strange science verily is theirs, for, while they are all the best friends in the world, it is evident that no one ever quite believes what another says, and that each man has to make up a system for himself. Section D is usually attended by a gentle innocent sort of men-rural clergymen of antique cut, young professors from new colleges, country gentlemen who take an interest in the wire-worm, along with a few anomalous enthusiasts from London; each deeply interested in something he has brought in a bottle, or which has been delineated in a large coloured drawing by one of his daughters, now hung on the walls. A dry generation on the whole is section D. In section E, you are apt to meet weather-beaten arctic voyagers, or desiccated eastern travellers, or odd, old-fashioned schoolmasters, with peculiar views as to the situation of the ancient Ecbatana and the route of the Ten Thousand Greeks; rather desperate, too, most of them, in controversy. Here also do the ladies much congregate, particularly when there is anything to be said about countries where missionaries are at work. In section F, you find the platform planted with political economists and actuaries, gentlemen deep in crime and sewagewater, promoters of philanthropic schemes for putting everybody under the care of somebody; not much believers in one another neither. They have usually a good audience, including a fair proportion of ladies, for they have the merit of never going beyond anybody's depth but their own. A good deal of wrangling amongst them occasionally, for, facts being the only thing they deal in, it follows that there is room for every imaginable conclusion. The men of section G are wholly engineers and machinists-it is not necessary to say any more about them. It is of some importance to remark that, apart from mere idle hangers-on, few men are ever seen in a section different from that which they usually haunt. Most people seem to marry their section at the beginning, and keep faithful to it.

During six days, for four hours each day, are papers read and discussed in these several sections; often on small matters and narrow questions, yet in general worthy both in subject and treatment, and really calculated to promote the several sciences concerned. It is true, nevertheless, to a certain extent, that the Association does not furnish a good opportunity for the bringing forward of papers of an elaborate nature. There is too much hurry and bustle to allow of the

the last explorer of the Nile-all men of high attainments and remarkable history. One gratifying feature of the evening was the sight of a group of the clergy of the unestablished church-men of profound learning and esteemed character-most fit in all respects to be here, but who we know would a few years ago have been admitted to no such place. In such little facts one reads the coming of an improved social spirit in a country heretofore singular for its divisions. The cheerful urbanity of the host was conspicuous through the whole evening, but particularly shone out at the last, when he rose and expressed his gratification that this hall, which had heretofore been wont to receive the great, the brave, and the fair, should have been destined, under his presidency, to entertain a company distinguished by qualities more admirable still, the cultivators of the bright fields of learning and science. About all such things as the British Association, there is necessarily a considerable amount of formal ceremony and speech-making-all very right and proper, but sometimes a little tiresome. It is perhaps from a sense of the need of some relief from such dull and stately work, that there has arisen, in connection with the Association, a secret society of the most outrageously buffo character, which holds one meeting during the week under the name of the Red Lions. A new member of the Association, who hitherto has never dreamed of it as anything but a fraternity of calmblooded philosophers, is taken to the large back-room of some hotel, and there ushered into a society who proceed to dine together on fare more substantial than elegant; after which there breaks out a tempest of drollery, in the form of enigmatical speeches and merry songs, such as makes his senses reel. The president is Lion-in-chief; all the company regard themselves as brother-lions, and whenever a toast has been drunk, the whole company fall a roaring and growling in the manner of the feline compartment of a menagerie. There is nothing more in the whole matter than this; yet it is surprising through what a variety of quaint metaphor and joke the Red Lion idea can be carried in the course of an evening among men, nearly all of whom are possessed of lively and versatile talents. There are of course a few who greatly outshine the rest in the power of turning out this idea in new and comic shapes; such become presidents and croupiers. But the serviceableness of even those whose part, like Bottom's, is nothing but roaring, is not to be despised. It is perhaps the greatest fun of all to see a quiet member of section F brought into such a scene, and gradually wakening to a sense of its pleasant absurdity -beginning towards the end actually to make jokes himself, and even perhaps to sing a song! The origin of all this is said to have been the accidental grouping of a set of men round the late Edward Forbes in a hotel styled the Red Lion, when the Association met at Birmingham in 1839. They found themselves so happy there, that they resolved to keep together as much as possible in subsequent meetings, thus forming a kind of club, though one of very loose texture, and adopting a name from their first place of meeting. While Edward Forbes lived, the fraternity had the benefit of his singular powers of pleasantry. He never failed at each meeting to bring from his pocket a set of droll verses turning upon some reigning scientific idea of the day, and which was sure to throw the whole party into convulsions of merriment. Alas, how much of innocent comicality, as well as graver talent and accomplishment, has been interred with the amiable, inimitable Edward Forbes!

Jocose hæc, as Logan of Restalrig said in his treasonous letters. Let us, before concluding this very superficial glance at the Dublin meeting, advert in a few words to a serious matter-the great improvement which our visit has shewn to us as distinguishing

the Ireland of the present day. The people are now, to all outward appearance, an industrious, well-clothed people, like their neighbours. Their towns wear an air of commercial activity; their fields exhibit an immensely advanced culture. The language of complaint has died down. Instead of that constant reference to something wanting on the part of England towards Ireland, which was formerly so conspicuous, one hears men congratulating themselves on the prosperity arising from its only true source, a self-relying spirit. It was particularly gratifying to visit the model national schools, and learn how triumphant a non-sectarian system of education has been over all its difficulties. It is now giving instruction to six hundred thousand scholars-a tenth of the whole community—while eighty thousand more are educated by a Protestant society. It will sound strange to English ears, but there is ample reason to believe that there is now less crime in Ireland than on the other side of the Channel. Mercantile morality has of late exhibited fewer blots. May we not, in part, ascribe this good result to the operation of the superior schooling which the Irish people have had during the last twenty-four years?

THE BENEFICENCE OF PAIN? THE fidelity with which a favourite opinion may be maintained, or a favourite pursuit followed, quite irrespective of its importance, or of the disparaging estimate of others, has been too frequently illustrated for a fresh example to occasion much surprise. Numerous instances will readily occur to every reader's recollection of the zeal displayed by even men of acknowledged abilities in urging views that to their contemporaries or successors appeared whimsical or erroneous. Newton believed his theological speculations were of superior importance to the sublimest of his discoveries. Frederick the Great held the production of a certain number of insipid verses more satisfactory indications of genius than the ablest measure of diplomacy, or the glory of a hard-won battle. Goethe imagined that he had a better chance of future remembrance through his theory of colours, than from Faust or Wilheim Meister. Political hobby-riders seem at all times to have abounded; and that the order is still in full vigour, fashionable clubs and pothouse parlours alike bear witness. In letters, we not unfrequently encounter a writer whose sole aim is to exalt an age or a character that mankind have hitherto been unanimous in regarding as base or cowardly. Hobby-riding, contrary to what we might perhaps at first sight expect, prevails extensively among the cultivators of science. The vastness and diversity of the study, the facility with which individual facts may be collected, and the natural bias of each observer towards independent generalisation, are among the causes that contribute to this result. Geology has often been taken advantage of as a favourite field for developing the crotchets of such timid observers as were alarmed at its progress. In astronomy, we need not seek a better example than that afforded by the recent controversy concerning the moon's rotation.

From the great degree in which a certain theory possesses the characteristics of its class, we should have hesitated to notice it, had the author not informed his readers that the sole exception to its favourable reception, when first announced, appeared in the pages of this Journal.† We are, in consequence, induced to inquire whether, during the intervening ten years, such fresh light may have been

thrown upon the subject as ought to affect our former verdict. We trust that we hardly need to express our perfect readiness should such be the case to retract any depreciatory criticism. To determine this matter with due impartiality, we shall consider our author's views in greater detail than before; and hope in doing so to preserve that becoming air of judicial gravity which some of his illustrations are occasionally calculated to upset.

Mr Rowell contends for the existence of a special sense of pain, just as there is a special sense of sight or hearing, which, instead of being an infliction, is one of the most important senses we possess.' He further asserts that man is above all other beings most largely endowed with this sense; the lower animals having it in a less degree, and that only in its protective character: indeed, many of them do not possess it at all. The higher susceptibility of man is ascribed to his peculiar liability to injury from those various destructive agents which his superior intelligence has enabled him to discover. Without such protection as a sense of pain affords, our author assures us that our life would be constantly endangered. There are undoubtedly certain conditions of life during which such an apprehension may with justice be entertained, but men are not all either children or fools. On this reasoning, we presume we should be always pulling out our teeth, getting rid of our eyes, amputating our limbs-all considerations of utility in these organs being insufficient to insure their safety. Moreover, continues Mr Rowell, since nature has not provided man with any covering, he would inevitably perish from exposure in cold, or from heat in warm climates, unless the sense of pain forced him to the use of clothing. We certainly agree with our author in thinking that no instrument would suffice for this purpose,' and believe that even 'the thermometer would be comparatively useless.'

Mr Rowell urges that pain is beneficial as an indication of disease. It is by no means a sure indication, however, as might be proved in a variety of ways. Let us take an example from the familiar instance of hysterical pain. Patients thus affected may for many years complain of excessive pain, which is in truth nothing more than disordered sensation in the part, and unattended with the slightest vestige of disease. Again, considerable pain may be present without its directly indicating the seat of disease; thus, in spinal affections, patients invariably refer to some other part, while in inflammation of certain joints, the surgeon's attention is not drawn to the one affected, but to its neighbour. When Mr Rowell declares that the sensibility of certain internal structures is less acute than that of the skin, he is quite correct; but he errs in overlooking the important difference which exists between the slender capacity for sensation of an organ in health, and its extreme sensitiveness in disease. No pain is more intense than that attending inflammatory action in the eye, and other deep-seated textures. Indeed, according to so excellent a pathological authority as Dr Alison, the pain of certain internal diseases is of itself frequently fatal. Further proof of the correctness of our proposition is afforded in the fact that, in the severest surgical operations, the mortality, which, previous to the introduction of chloroform, was as high as one in two, is now reduced to one in four.

We shall next consider Mr Rowell's view of pain in the lower animals, among whom, it will be borne in mind, the sense, according to him, is only partially developed; and here we must notice an ingenious peculiarity in his reasoning, very favourable to an evasion of troublesome facts. He has a special test, as well as a special sense, the application of both being almost universal. The special test is that of beneficence; through it every fact in the economy

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of life is viewed and arranged. He informs us, that appalled with the amount of destruction incessantly occurring in the different departments of animated nature, he was forced to assume that the process was painless; hence his sensitiveness is never uncomfortably agitated upon seeing a horse flogged, a hare shot, or an ox felled. This agreeable theory is supported by several plausible illustrations, one of which is as follows: Frogs appear to have but little sense of pain, and it is in accordance with the merciful designs of Providence that this should be the case; for of all deaths, that of the frog, when swallowed by a snake, seems the most horrible, if these creatures are susceptible of pain. This insensibility is assumed from the fact that their cries cease after capture by their formidable foes; but surely the state of intense terror into which they must be thrown, affords a natural and simple explanation of this silence. The following view regarding the fate and sufferings of pigs is too original to be omitted. 'Pigs,' says Mr Rowell, 'make a sad outcry when being killed; but I believe it is caused by fear, and the uncomfortable way in which they are held, rather than by pain.' A little further on, we are assured that, 'if stuck skilfully, without taking hold of them, there is no more noise than a mere grunt or squeak, about the same as there would be if the pig had a slight blow with the end of a stick.' Horses that have been seen to eat heartily after severe accidents, rabbits and hares that exhibited after being shot no more remarkable sign of pain than running away at their greatest speed, are not to us very striking proofs of what Mr Rowell wishes to establish. Nor is our faith in his opinions much fortified by introducing in their support that instinct whereby certain animals are led to destroy such of their number as are disabled from illness or old age. This instinct, he argues, would not exist, as contrary to the beneficent arrangement of things, unless its fulfilment were a perfectly painless process; indeed, regarding it from any point of view, our author holds it a merciful provision for alleviating by a speedy death the wretched condition of animals unable to assist themselves. This reasoning strikes us as marvellously similar to that pursued by those African tribes who habitually destroy their infirm or imbecile relatives.

The comprehensive adaptation of his theory which Mr Rowell attempts, leads him occasionally to suggest opinions regarding animals that give a humour to his essay, not the less appreciable from its complete unconsciousness. Besides including such animals as shrimps, oysters, prawns, whose utility, apart from any special beneficence they represent, admits of demonstration, he claims a special function for a class of animals that have never before been held elegant or useful. What purpose does the reader suppose bugs were created for ? Mr Rowell assures us that a bug contributes more to the general health of the community than all the sanitary measures ever devised by parliamentary wisdom. And how? Just because an apprehension of the presence of the insect causes thousands of bedsteads to be taken down, that would otherwise-repudiate the ungenerous insinuation, all good housewives!-be allowed to harbour dust the whole year round. We are also told to regard the presence of fleas on dogs in a similar light, since dogs would otherwise be sure to neglect the scratching and biting necessary for their soundness of health. There is a little animal even more offensive than a flea which obtains honourable mention on like grounds. We must give one more illustration of the importance of parasites, and we shall take it from the occupant of another element. We believe that the following allusion to a whale represents the mighty animal in a position that will be novel to the most imaginative reader. The whale is introduced to us at 'its toilet, scraping itself clean against the edge of a rock or

iceberg,' to get rid of its tiny attendants. Mr Rowell does not scruple to insinuate that the monster, if let alone, would remain shamefully indifferent to those sanitary measures so much talked of above water. We are not to suppose, however, that our author's opinions all at once attained to their present stability; for he acknowledges to have been, at the commencement of his inquiries, occasionally puzzled to explain the benevolent purpose which the creation of certain animals was intended to serve. The use of venomous serpents was for a long time very perplexing; but at length it occurred to him that their function might be to arrest the increase of the larger carnivora (a view unsupported, so far as we know, by naturalists), and since, of course, the victims encountered their fate without pain, the view was accepted.

Our readers will have gathered by this time that we find no reason to modify our former estimate of Mr Rowell's theory, and are rather inclined to class the latter among the hobbies. Although he protests against any such inference, we believe the result of its adoption would be to increase the already too great amount of cruelty in the world, make hackney-coachmen more hard-hearted, encourage wicked boys given to plunder nests, and generally justify other unmanly pursuits. As for the proof that animals feel pain, we advise Mr Rowell to look out for that himself. Let him only tread on the cat's tail, and inquire whether the startling scream with which she bursts away is in commendation of his pleasantry; let him watch the proceedings of a dog whose leg has been hurt by a missile, and try to ascertain whether the wild yells of the creature as he limps off are expressive of selfgratulation. It is not impossible that the lower we descend in the scale of animal organism, the less sensitiveness we may find either to pain or pleasure; but wherever we meet with a nervous system like our own, we are bound, by all the analogies of life, to ascribe to it the same uses. As to the religious part of the question, there are, of course, difficulties, but none that are insuperable to humility. We prefer viewing the operations of divine beneficence, as they are actually represented, rather than through such vague theories as Mr Rowell's.

'MONSIEUR SICARD is an original,' I remarked, as the sounds of struggle and expostulation died away in the distance; but he appears to be thoroughly in earnest. If, moreover, he speaks sooth, your model maiden would seem to be little better than a capricious flirt.'

'Jacques Sicard is certainly in most profound earnest,' said Webbe; 'but being in both love and liquor, can scarcely be expected to speak sooth, as you phrase it. Supposing, however, that he has by accident told the exact truth, it just amounts to this -that, coerced by Madame de Bonneville, of whom, as I have informed you, she stands in extreme awe, Clémence has been civil to the enamoured bootmaker.' 'And that you have filled her young head with dreams of riches and grandeur, with visions of châteaux en Espagne, that have no better foundation than vague surmise, the evanishing whereof may, nevertheless, darken her future life.'

'If you go on in that spooney, sentimental fashion, Linwood, I shall begin to think Sicard must have bitten you unawares. I have suggested no dream to Clémence that may not be realised, including the sublime one of becoming in the fulness of time Mrs William Linwood-a magnificent possibility, which, by the by, I have never more than incidentally glanced at, when conversing with her. It is, besides, consoling

to reflect that, failing that, which I can't believe she will, there are lesser heavens that may suffice for the modest felicity of Mrs Waller's recovered daughter-of Anthony Waller of Cavendish Square's assured heiress."

'A few grains of common-sense would be an improvement to that heap of chaff, Mr Webbe.'

"That which you are pleased to call chaff is commonsense, my dear fellow, if somewhat chaffingly expressed. A more acceptable variety of the article to your taste may, however, be set forth in the printed handbill to which I was calling your attention when that boot-making buzzard broke in upon us. Mrs Waller, you must understand, would persist, spite of all evidence to the contrary, in believing that her child might have been stolen, abducted, instead of drowned, and this was one of the advertisements issued to humour her fancy. I found it, by mere chance, the other day, amongst some old papers. It offers, you observe, five hundred pounds' reward for the recovery of the child, and contains a description of the little Lucy's person, and the dress and ornaments she wore on the day of her disappearance.'

"This is indeed a valuable document,' I exclaimed, after glancing over the handbill; 'not on account of its description of the child's person-"fair complexion, blue eyes, light hair"-which would apply to thousands of children, but for the list of articles worn by the little girl, and which, as you suggest, may have been preserved by Louise Féron for an ulterior, if now abandoned purpose. "A necklace composed of five rows of seed-pearls; attached thereto a gold Maltese cross, set with pearls, and having the letter L engraved on the back. Two sleeve-loops of seedpearls; pale-blue silk frock-morocco shoes of the same colour" Ha! here also the indelible mark you have spoken of is alluded to-not described: "The child has a natural mark difficult to discover if sought for, which will always be decisive of her identity, and may at any moment bring about the detection and punishment of the person or persons who, after this notice, shall conceal or assist in concealing and withholding the child from her parents."

'You informed me, Captain Webbe,' I remarked, 'that Louise Féron had charge of Mrs Waller's child for several months: she must, therefore, one would suppose, be cognizant of this mysterious mark-a knowledge which, it occurs to me, would do away with any motive she would otherwise have had to preserve proofs of the child's identity-especially proofs which, traced to her possession, would fatally compromise herself.'

'One would, as you say,' replied Webbe, 'suppose that Louise Féron must be cognizant of the said indelible mark; and yet, I am confident, from the covert inquiries she, to my knowledge, set on foot relative thereto, previous to her safer course of action being finally resolved upon, that she is as ignorant in the matter as you or I. I repeat that I am morally certain some, at least, of the articles enumerated in the handbill have been preserved, and may be obtained possession of by Clémence, with the connivance of Fanchette-a purchasable connivance, as I have before intimated, provided always that no harm shall possibly accrue therefrom to her darling Clémence.'

'What harm could therefrom possibly accrue to her darling Clémence ?'

'Ruinous harm-harm without remedy would befall Clémence, should you refuse to carry out the honourable understanding, by means of which can alone be accomplished the great object we have both in view. And now, young man,' continued Webbe, with assumed sternness, let us, once for all, thoroughly comprehend each other. We are on the immediate threshold of an undertaking for the success of which I have ventured much, and resolutely. One false step now would be