Page images
PDF
EPUB

calm interchange of ideas between scientific men themselves can afford a chance of the elicitation of the truth on some of the more difficult questions involved in forensic inquiries-I mean the truth, not in the abstract, but so far as science already knows it.

Before concluding, I must answer one objection which is certain to be raised namely, that no man could grasp effectively the great range of science involved in the multifarious duties indicated. This objection might readily be met by separating from the general duties of the office, which would be homogeneous in character, certain specialties which are at once very diffi. cult and of a different nature from the ordinary duties. Chemistry is a good instance of this. It would be not only possible, but highly desirable, that elaborate chemical inquiries, such as those concerned in cases of suspected poisoning, should be taken out of the hands of toxicologists, and always decided, apart from any theoretical considerations in physiology, by officials like those, let us say, of the College of Chemistry. the other hand, such comparatively

On

simple duties as those of food inspection and analysis might easily be performed by an official so qualified as we have supposed our district health-officers to be. This great relief being given, the remaining subjects which would occupy the attention of our district officer would be confined to a circle of science certainly not larger, one would say greatly less, than that which the ordinary practitioner of medicine is supposed to grasp. And we should be delivered from the uncomfortable spectacle, now so frequently thrust upon us, of worthy men, perfectly well qualified for the latter branch of work, assuming at a moment's notice the functions of advisers of the state on the highly special and peculiar subjects which have been enumerated in this paper.

I am well aware that the ideas now put forward are difficult of realization. I am content, however, to wait the course of events. These ideas, which two years ago had not attracted much attention, have since that period received the notice of influential persons, and are already making distinct and perceptible progress.

LIFE-A SONNET.

BY THE LATE ALEXANDER GILCHRIST.

ON eager feet, his heritage to seize,

A traveller speeds toward the promised land.
Afar gloom purple slopes on either hand;

Glad earth is fragrant with the flowering leas;

The green corn stirs in noon's hot slumberous breeze,
And whispering woodlands nigh make answer grand.
That pilgrim's heart as by a magic wand

Is swayed: nor, as he gains each height, and sees
A gleaming landscape still and still afar,
Doth Hope abate, nor less a glowing breath
Wake subtle tones from viewless strings within.
But lo! upon his path new aspects win;
Dun sky above, brown wastes around him are;
From yon horizon dim stalks spectral Death!
GUILDFORD, June, 1856.

317

ESSAYS AT ODD TIMES.

I. "OF MAGNANIMITY."

I was lately travelling in a railway carriage, in which there happened to be a party of city men, who were going into the country to shoot. Wealthy, portly, middle-aged men of business-they were evidently good specimens of a class which is every day becoming larger among us, the class of men who make their money in town, and like to spend it in the country, upon Norfolk stubbles and Scotch moors, and upon all the paraphernalia of dogs, guns, keepers, and beaters which such tastes necessitate. They had come out for a week's pleasure, and a very happy and jovial party they were. Happy, with the exception of one of their number, who had left in his cab a fine turbot, which was to have made its appearance at the dinner-table after the morrow's battue; and this poor gentleman, out for his brief holiday, was miserable on account of the loss of his fish. His enjoyment, for that day at any rate, was quite marred. The memory of the turbot, like Banquo's ghost, rose up to destroy every present plea sure. We talked of the cotton famine, and, after agreeing with us that the crisis of difficulty was over, he turned to one of his friends and remarked, "It's a thousand pities I forgot that fish, Jones, isn't it? I gave three shillings a pound for it-I did, upon my word-at Grove's, just before I started." We sat in silence, and smoked our cigars in bold defiance of bye-laws and regulations, for every compartment of the carriage was occupied, and every occupant had lit up, when the silence was broken by a plaintive voice exclaiming à propos to nothing, "I say, Smith, it is a confounded bore about that turbot, isn't it?" And so on, and so on, till at last the conversation turned upon a topic in which even Miserrimus-for so we will call him-was interested; the topic of

field sports. And here the men of Mincing Lane and the Stock Exchange were in their element. They all hunted, they all fished, they all shot, and they could all talk of sport and the money it cost them. Smith had with nim a favourite setter, for which he had lately given a hundred and twenty guineas; Jones was going to try a new breechloader, for which he had paid the fancy price of fifty pounds. "You know," he remarked, "you can get a gun to do anything a gun should do for half the money; but then," he continued naively, "I like to have everything of the best, tip-top-keepers, dogs, horses; or else the swells are sure to laugh at you." A sentiment which even Miserrimus endorsed, with the remark that he did not mind giving a fancy price for the best of everything,-not even if it was three shillings a pound for such a fish as that -that turbot which he had left in the confounded cab.

Listening to the harmless tattle of these city gentlemen, I lit another cigar, and gave myself up to the various phases of littlemindedness which crop out so plentifully upon the surface of modern society. I asked myself, Do long seasons of national and individual prosperity tend to foster this littlemindedness? Was the Laureate right in welcoming a European war as a moral flood to rebaptize the nations? And so I fell upon considering the virtue of Magnanimity, -whether we know even the shadow thereof in these our days; whether amongst all our friends and acquaintances we know-any one of us—of one who might stand for the truly magnanimous man. The word, indeed, has somewhat narrowed its horizon in the course of time. We all know that it means greatmindedness. But, as a general rule, we limit it to that single phase of greatmindedness which is shown in the forgiveness of a wrong. And yet this

is but one of many ways in which greatness of soul can manifest itself; and perhaps it is not even the highest manifestation of the virtue. For I am not

sure but that some men, in whom ambition and vanity are strong, may not find it easier to forgive the injuries of a foe than to pardon the successes of a friend. Dean Trench has shown us how words have dropped out of the world's vocabulary, as being no longer needed, or have altogether lost their primary meaning. And it will be worth while to inquire whether the virtue which was magnanimity in heathen days has found no place for itself under the Christian dispensation, and so has narrowed itself down to the Christian virtue of forgiveness, or whether it has undergone a rebaptism, and is known in the modern world under some other name.

At any

rate, it is evident that even in Christian England, in the nineteenth century, there is room for a word which shall express the contrary to that fidgety, prying, invidious, mean and despicable condition of mind which men fall into who deal with things rather than with persons, who are chiefly conversant with the petty concerns of life, with moneygetting, with buying and selling, and so forth, and so insensibly lapse into a low and stunted condition of soul.

"The magnanimous man," said Aristotle, "is he who, being really worthy, "estimates his own worth highly. If a

[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors]

man will be only moderately gratified "by the honours which the world heaps “upon him, under the impression that "he has simply got what is his due. He "will behave with moderation under "both bad fortune and good. He will "know how to be exalted and how to be "abased. He will neither be delighted "with success, nor grieved by failure. "He will neither shun danger, nor seek "it; for there are few things which he 66 cares for. He is reticent and some"what slow of speech, but speaks his

"mind openly and boldly when occasion "calls for it. He is not apt to admire, "for nothing is great to him. He over"looks injuries. He is not given to talk "about himself or about others; for he "does not care that he himself should "be praised, or that other people should "be blamed. He does not cry out about "trifles, and craves help from none. "The step of the magnanimous man is "slow, his voice deep, and his language "stately: for he who cares about few

[ocr errors]

things has no need to hurry, and he "who thinks highly of nothing needs "not to be vehement about anything." Such is the character of the magnanimous man, as drawn by an old heathen writer more than 2,000 years ago. Doubtless this was a standard of perfection at which Aristotle himself aimed, and which many a Greek attained to,-in outward seeming at least; though the Athenian magnanimity must have sadly degenerated when Paul of Tarsus preached on Mars Hill to a crowd or gossips and triflers four hundred years later. And certainly the portrait as drawn by Aristotle has something grand, we may almost say noble, in its lineaments. Indeed, it would be noble but for the lazy scorn which flashes from the eye and curls the lip. Self-contained and self-reliant, the magnanimous man towers above his fellows, like an oak amongst reeds, his motto nec franges nec flectes. And, if there be somewhat too much of self-sufficiency about him, we must remember that, to be great and strong, a heathen must necessarily lean upon himself. The settler in foreign and sparsely inhabited countries needs and acquires a degree of self-reliance and self-assertion which would be offensive in the person of a member of civilised society. And the Greek became selfsufficient even in his ethics, as having no definite promise of help out of himself, or beyond his own resources.

But it is curious to notice how in the main the ethics of 2,000 years ago repeat themselves in the fashionable ethics of to-day. Much of what Aristotle has said of the magnanimous man as to his carriage and bearing, might

have been published only last year as a fashionable treatise by the Hon. Mr. A—— or Lady B on good breeding

and the manners of a gentleman. Alter a word or two here and there; blot out the rather offensive self-sufficiency; lay a very thin wash of colour over the superciliousness of manner which is somewhat too manifest in Aristotle's magnanimous man, and you might be reading a description of "the swell," as poor Jones calls the man who lives and moves and has his being in society. There is no doubt, in fact, that the laws of good breeding, the leges inscripta of society, do tend, more or less, to produce an appearance of what the old Greeks named magnanimity. These laws are simply the barriers which the common sense of most has erected, to protect people who are thrown much together from each other's impertinences. They are lines of defence, and therefore their tendency is to isolate the individual from the crowd; to make him self-contained, reticent, and independent of opinions; alike careless of censure and indifferent to applause. It may be said that much of this is only manner. But, as in poetry the matter often grows out of the manner, so the character is often insensibly influenced by the outward bearing; a man becomes to some extent what he wishes to appear.

For the question must needs present itself,-Is this a mere matter of fashion and good breeding. The calm and stately bearing, the polished, urbane address, the unruffled surface of a stream which seems to have no slimy depths,-are these things the mere accidents of a position, the mere outward husk and shell of a man; or are they the indices of certain qualities inherent in a certain class, and in which other classes are not equally privileged to share? Aristotle associates magnanimity with good fortune. He declares boldly that wealth and power tend to make men magnanimous. And a philosopher of a later age, the clever and witty Becky Sharpe, if we mistake not, held a similar opinion. "Ah! how good and great-minded I could be," she remarks, "if I had five

thousand a year." And really there is something more in her assertion than appears upon the surface. She saw

that she was living a life of petty shifts and little meannesses, cajoling one friend, flattering another, and cringing to a third; and all for the sake of a maintenance, for a few paltry pounds more or less. Give her the money, and what need would there be any longer for flattery, or meanness? Another modern philosopher, however, is of quite a different opinion from our friend Becky. Mr. Ruskin, in one of his amusing pamphlets,

His

which, under the name of Art, treats of all things and a few things besides, whether in heaven or earth, or in the waters under the earth,-Mr. Ruskin suggests that some benevolent gentleman shall set up shop, in order to show the world that honesty, and gravity, and truth, and piety, may be found behind a counter as well as anywhere else. But has Mr. Ruskin forgotten the old adage about contact with pitch? I will state his case and illustrate his idea. model tradesman, let us suppose, a gentleman by birth and education, dons the apron and commences trade in-we will say the small grocery line of business in a little country town. Of course he finds that there is an opposition shop -there always is an opposition shop in little country towns-quite ready to compete with him, and to undersell him. by any and every means, legitimate or otherwise. All goods must be sold at the lowest price compatible with any profit at all; and, if his rival has capital enough to carry on the game, at a lower price still. Then come the sanding of the sugar, the dusting of the pepper, the watering of the tobacco at the opposition shop; and what is our magnanimous man to do? Shall he preserve his integrity and vacate the field, or shall he throw his honesty to the dogs, and strangle his truth? It is clear that one or other of these things he must do. Do I then mean to assert that magnanimity is incompatible with trade, that greatness of soul is not to be found in the man whose daily business is weighing out sugar and selling figs? By no means,

But I am very much of Becky Sharpe's opinion, that it is much easier to be magnanimous on five thousand a year than on fifty pounds a year. Of course there are exceptional men who will show their greatness by bending their minds to mean but necessary occupations, and raising these occupations by the spirit in which they are followed. But such men as these are the salt of the earth. And I take it that such men as these are very rare. In truth, even with the highest class of minds, the accidents of their position, the men with whom they are thrown, the callings they pursue, do contribute more or less to foster or to destroy the virtue we are considering. It is hard to live with narrow-minded people and yet not to contract some stain of narrow-mindedness. It is above all a difficult thing to be engaged in the business of money-getting and still to value money at its proper worth; for the subject of our daily labours and anxieties must necessarily be apt to obtain an undue and preponderating prominence in our thoughts.

But, if poverty be inimical to magnanimity, as tending to make men exalt the temporal at the expense of the eternal, wealth and prosperity have no less their dangers. The struggling man of business, who has safely carried honour and magnanimity out of the fray, may find his Capua in respectability and a handsome income in the funds. He may become littleminded and a trifler, a hanger-on upon great people, a taster of entrées, and a connoisseur of wines, and be a little too apt to complain of the crumpled rose-leaf in his couch. And what then can restore him to himself but the sharp pinch of a great trial? If he has any regard for the virtue he has lost, I recommend him at once to draw his money out of the funds, and to invest it in the private bank of an intimate friend, if possible of a near relation, with interest at the rate of six, or even seven, per cent. paid quarterly. And then, if there does not speedily come such a crash as shall astonish him, and send him back to his mutton chop and pint of pale ale with a magnanimous in

:

dependence of mind and a sovereign contempt for the world's opinion, I can only say that he will have tried my remedy in vain. For it is strange to see how even the meanest minds often rise into magnanimity under the pressure of a great and sudden trial. We will take the first instance that offers itself for an example that poor private in the Buffs who was killed by the Chinese a year or two back for refusing to kotow at the name of their emperor. Here was an ignorant country lad, a mere clod of Suffolk or Dorsetshire clay, far from friends and home, and fresh from the unheroic discipline of pipeclay and goosestep, yet giving his life like a hero for his honour and his duty. Yesterday, a clown, his highest pleasure the grogshop-to-day, Leonidas does not surpass him in magnanimity !

On the whole I think it will be found that a strong religious conviction is the best, perhaps the only, specific for delivering men from the petty interests, the little cares, the envies, the heartburnings, the meannesses, which pertain to an overcrowded state of society. I believe that few religious enthusiasts will be found to have been littleminded in worldly matters. They may have been bigoted, fierce, cruel; they may have had a narrowmindedness peculiarly their own but we must acknowledge that the zealots of religion have, on the whole, been magnanimous in dealing with the things that are Caesar's. Indeed, the interests with which religion is concerned are so vast that all merely temporal interests are dwarfed into insignificance by the side of them. And, of all human exemplars of magnanimity, I know of none who can for a moment compare with that poor prisoner, who from his dungeon at Rome declared with unfaltering voice that he had learnt through much suffering, in whatever state of life he was, therewith to be content; that he knew how to be full and to be hungry, how to abound and to suffer want; and that he was willing, if it pleased God, to live, and yet was not afraid, yea, was even ready, if so it pleased Him, to die.

« PreviousContinue »