204

INTELLECT VERSUS FEELING:

Honesty does not find that out. Honesty, both pecuniary and immaterial, to wit, that will not wrong another in any way, by word, or deed, or thought, as a national trait, rests upon kindly generous feeling. Courage, frank and fearless, and kindheartedness, by the very terms, rest on the same founda

tion.

Shepherd. And what then?

North. What then, James? Why, that all this present fume and fuss about intellectual education will never produce the desired result, but, in all probability, impede the growth of true national virtue.1

Shepherd. You've aften heard me say that, sir.

North. So much the likelier is it to be true, James. Intellect walks in certain evidences of things-treating objects of positive knowledge-fixed relations-mathematical axiomsand truths drawn from itself-facts given by the senses.

Shepherd. A' verra true and verra important. Say awa', sir. North. The character of Intellect is, that it is satisfied when it can refer what is now presented to it, to what it already knows; then, and then only, it seems to understand. But when Feeling springs up upon occasion, it springs up for the occasion, new, original, peculiar, not to be referred. The man does not say to himself, "I recollect that I felt so on such an occasion, acted upon it, and found it to answer; " but the feeling, even if he has so felt and done, comes up as if he had never felt it before-sees only the actual circumstances, the case, the person, the moment of opportunity, and imperatively wills the action.

Shepherd. That's the sort o' state o' the sowl I like-say awa, sir.

North. It is the unretrospection for authority, or precedent, as the unprospection of consequences, that makes the purity and essential character of feeling. We may reason and chastise our hearts, afterwards and before, in time of reflection and meditation; but not then when the moment of feeling has arisen,

1 "I meet a man of inexhaustible dulness," says the author of Friends in Council, "and he talks to me for three hours about some great subject, this very one of education, for instance, till I sit entranced by stupidity-thinking the while and this is what we are to become by education-to be like you.' Then I see a man like D a judicious, reasonable, conversible being, knowing how to be silent too-a man to go through a campaign with; and I find he cannot read or write."

THEY SHOULD BE CULTIVATED TOGETHER.

205

and we are to act by the strength which we know very well is to be had from it.

Shepherd. Profoond, yet clear like a pool i' the Yarrow.

North. Now, James, the mind that relies habitually on intellect, and does not rely on feeling, will bring the estimate of consequences to the time when it should only feel.

Shepherd. A fatal error in chronology indeed.

North. Such a mind, James, is disposed to distrust, nay, to discredit and resist, everything that offers itself per se, and is irreducible to the experienced past. It resists, therefore, miracles, and sneers at Christianity.

Shepherd. That's sad.

North. Then see how stone-blind it is to much in which you and I rejoice. The common understanding forms a low estimate of the great facts of Imagination and Sensibility. They are to it unintelligible—and it will not even believe that they ever have been felt, except by imbecile enthusiasts. Shepherd. They lauch at the Queen's Wake

North. Ay, at the Paradise Lost. The deeper, the bolder, the more peculiar the feeling, of course the more it puzzles, estranges, repels such an understanding. I do not well know myself, James, what feelings are the most deep, bold, and peculiar; but near to the most must be, I think, the purest and highest moral, the purest and highest religious feelings. For compare with them Imagination, and surely they are deeper far.

Shepherd. Far, far, far!

North. There is reason enough, then, James, in Nature, why Understanding, cultivated without a corresponding culture of feeling, should be adverse to it, for their causative conditions are opposite. Either cultivated alone becomes adverse to the other. Cultivated together-which is not the mode of popular education now,—they are friendly, mutually supporting, helping, guiding, and making joint strength.

Shepherd. Excellent, sir. But said ye never a' this to me afore.

North. Never at a Noctes, that I recollect. If feeling do exist, how must it "languish, grow dim, and die," under the distrust, or contempt, or ignorance of the understanding that ought to cherish it!

Shepherd. There's Tickler sleepin.

206

THE SOURCE OF DISBELIEF.

North. James-such minds undertake, we shall suppose, the express examination of great moral and religious tenets, with a view to ascertain their credibility; and because they have been trained to modes of reasoning, and to rules of evidence, with which these have little or nothing to do, and to which they are not amenable-why, what follows? Their utter rejection.

Shepherd. Deism-aiblins atheism.

North. A mind less trained might have continued to believe from habit, from authority, which is far better, surely, than not to believe at all, and the inevitable lot of many good and not unenlightened persons; but the pride of intellect in such minds disdains to submit to anything but conviction, which it is disqualified for obtaining.

Shepherd. I hae seldom heard you mair sage. (Aside)— Yet I'm sleepy.

North. Now, James, the same express scepticism or disbelief, which is thus engendered in the highly taught, is in the lower; and more surely, and worse. For high intellect may see so much as to suspect itself; but intellect, lowly taught (and how many such are there now?) never does. Moreover, my man, it is infinitely helpless; for it falls upon the difficulties obvious and gross to sight,-boggles at them,— and recoils into disbelief. Then, James, only think on the conceit of knowledge in half-taught people! Is it not often desperate and invincible?

Shepherd. I could knock them doun.

North. An imperfect, ill-founded moral and religious belief, is often still beneficial to the conduct and feelings; but a low, gross, self-conceited unbelief is more hardening and debasing than one that is more subtle.

Shepherd. Look at Tickler sleepin; as for me, I am only beginnin to yawn.

North. James, hear me

Shepherd. I'm doin my best.

North. The ground-error, but which it needs courage to combat, is the proposition, that as Truth must be beneficial, so error and illusion must be injurious. Granted,—that perfect truth is the best thing in the world; but while truth and error are excessively mixed, it is impossible to say, a priori, that the removal of a particular illusion, in a given case, shall

ILLUSIONS NOT ALWAYS INJURIOUS.

207

be beneficial. That is, it is not true to say absolutely, that there is not a single illusion in one mind, of which the extirpation must not, in all possible circumstances, be better than the continuance. Perhaps the peace, perhaps the virtue, of the mind, is stayed upon it. We must not knowingly teach error, that is clear; but it is not equally clear that we are bound to destroy every error, much less to communicate to everybody every truth. There are truths without number that are no concern of theirs. Thus a belief in ghosts

Shepherd (starting from sleep). Ghosts! Mercy on us! What was you sayin o' ghosts?

North (frowning). Bad manners-James-bad manners-to fall asleep during

Shepherd. Sermon or lecture, either in Kirk or Snuggerybut you see I devoored rather a heavy denner the day, at Watson's; and then there's something sae sedative in the silver tones o' your vice, sir, that by degrees it lulls a listener into a dreamy dwawm, sic as fa's on a body stretched a' his length on a burn-brae, no far frae a waterfa', till his een see nae mair the bit flittin and doukin white-breisted water-pyats, and his sowl sinks awa, wi' the wimplin' murmur in its ears, into Fairy-Land.

North. I pardon you, my dear Shepherd, for your most poetical apology.

Shepherd. And I promise to do a' I can to keep mysel frae fa'in into the "pleasant land o' drowsyhead." Spoot away.

North. We may suppose, James, that a constant progress is making towards truth, and this is for happiness. But any one who looks at the world, and its history, may satisfy himself that, for some reason or another, this truth is not intended to come all at once.

Shepherd (stretching himself). Oh! dear!

North. Either in the human understanding, or the state of the human will, there is some ground wherefore this should not be. It is not possible, then, nor meant to push mankind forward at once into the possession of this inheritance. There are degrees and stages, a progress. Seeing this, a wise man is patient, temperate. He desires to do everything for his kind; but according to the possibilities and the plans of nature. Seeing this, he does not fall into the error, into which men are 1 Wimplin-meandering.

208

TRUTH COMES BY SLOW DEGREES.

misled by an uncalculating impatience, to bring on at once the reign of truth. Thinking that end possible which is impossible, too many nowadays think means will be effectual which are most ineffectual; and they imagine that small portions of truth communicated, which are in their power to communicate, are the reign of truth begun on earth. The truth which is in their power, is that which regards definite relations, as mathematics, and the science of matter. Their hasty imagination seizes on parcels of this truth, and upon plans for communicating them, and foresees, to judge from their manner of speaking, consequences of a magnitude and excellence, conceivable only if all truth had dominion of the human heart. Let us aid the progress, if possible, as ways open to us; but not imagine that the turn of our hand will transform the universe.

Shepherd (brightening up). I'm no the least sleepy noo, for that fa' ower the edge o' a precipice has waukened up my seven senses. But this is shamefu' behaviour in Tickler. (Hollows in Tickler's ear) Fire! Fire! Fire!

Tickler (staring). Who are you?

Shepherd. The Archbishop of Canterbury.
Tickler. What - Howley ?

And how is Blomfield?

How are you, my old buck?

Shepherd. We are both well, sir, but a good deal troubled about these tithes. That auld deevil, Lord King——

Tickler (recognising the Shepherd). Why, that is language barely decorous in your grace-but ha! North, my old boy, what have you and James been prating about during my visit to the land of Nod? Come-a caulker-and I'm your man.

Shepherd. I have been instructing Mr North in some of my philosophical views on the subjeck o' national education.

Tickler. National education! James, there are two periods of human society-the first, of nature ruling in man, and the second of man ruling nature.

Shepherd. Bright as sunrise! sleep catches nae haud on him -but he flings it aff like a garment.

Tickler. During the first period, man is wisely governed by errors. During the second, he tends wisely to govern himself by truth. The transition from one period to the other is a time of crisis, and may be of convulsions. Much responsibility rests, North, on those who lead the change; for,