-so far we can read him plainly, and such a character is not inconsistent with the existence of many high and admirable qualities. It is when we pass to another section of his strangely composite nature that we are met by many irreconcilable contradictions. How could one man, without the deepest conscious hypocrisy, combine the crooked duplicity, the implacable vindictiveness, the coldblooded heartlessness of Father Joseph the politician, with the enraptured counsels of spiritual perfection taught by Father Joseph the director of the Calvairiennes ? Not only did no man ever know better how to dissemble, but he seemed to love dissimulation in itself, and to prefer hidden methods when candour would have answered equally well. Dark and inscrutable, Richelieu's sobriquet already quotedtenebroso cavernoso-marks the predominant element in a character whose profound contempt for mankind led him always to suspect unworthy motives, and to believe that the highest objects might be accomplished by the meanest agency. Nor did his scorn for human nature engender any spark of compassion for the erring. Woe to the man who dared to contravene his policy, or to the heretic who withstood him! Beneath apparent reconciliation with a rival, he ever cherished at the bottom of his heart an undying grudge, which only bided its time to exact ample vengeance, and on his way to mass he could ruthlessly bid an officer slay every soul that resisted, and then calmly proceed to offer the sacrifice of Omnipotent Love. Blinded by fanaticism and seduced by ambition, Father Joseph implicitly adopted that deadly maxim, which blurs so fatally the eternal distinction between right and wrong, that the end justifies the means; and his ideals once formed, whether designed to promote the welfare of France or of the Church, he followed them persistently, no matter how tortuous or how terrible the road. It is useless to plead for such a man the difficulty of his position. We can make allowance for strong measures in evil times; but we are seasonably reminded (and we thank Lord Acton most heartily for his emphatic insistence on a truth too often forgotten in historic judgments) that treachery, injustice, falsehood are the very things which make times evil, and their odious detestability is deepened on lips which can at other times utter counsels of the loftiest sanctity. The man who, like Father Joseph, resorts to such weapons, under whatever plea, deserves and should receive the righteous condemnation of his fellow-men. ART. ART. IV.-1. Sandford and Merton. By Thomas Day. Three Vols. 1783-89. 2. Evenings at Home. By Dr. John Aikin and Mrs. Barbauld. Six Vols. 1792-95. 3. The Story of the Robins. By Mrs. Trimmer. New Edition. 1785. 4. The History of the Fairchild Family. By Mrs. Sherwood. New Edition. Circa 1788. 5. The Parents' Assistant. By Maria Edgeworth. Edition. 1796. And many others. 'NICH New TICHT bloss der Stolz des Menschen füllt den Raum mit Geistern, mit geheimnissvollen Kräften, auch für ein lebend Herz ist die gemeine Natur zu eng, und tiefere Bedeutung liegt in dem Mährchen meiner Kinderjahre, als in der Wahrheit, die das Leben lehrt.' * So speaks Schiller by the mouth of Max Piccolomini in his Wallenstein,' and they are words of eternal wisdom. The mind and the memory in early youth are susceptible as melting wax to even fugitive impressions, and anything that lays firin hold of the fancy must leave an indelible mark, and may possibly shape an existence. What sends so many boys of all classes to sea, in spite of the parental warnings, and the assurance, generally amounting to conviction, of the sorrows awaiting the novice? The innate spirit of adventure has been nursed on sea-tales from the sagas of marauding sea-kings down to the battles of the Nile and Trafalgar the boy has cherished his fancy on Cooper and Michael Scott and Marryat; he revels in the dashing deeds of the buccaneers, and has even a shamefaced admiration for such chivalrous pirates as the Red Rover or Adderfang; he looks at all in rose colour and little in shadow. He will see a world of strange countries, and make acquaintance with marvellous customs; even the thrilling narratives of terrible catastrophes are rather incentives than deterrents, for he is pretty sure to be saved in the boats, and may be cast up to play the Crusoe on *The words are thus rendered by Coleridge: "Tis not merely The human being's pride that peoples space (Wallenstein,' Part II. The Piccolomini, some some enchanted island. It does not occur to him that Defoe and his imitators take care to supply their castaways with the stores of a well-found ship; and that for one man who has been snatched from death by a miracle, many scores have gone straight to the bottom or survived for lingering tortures. So at the present moment more stringent legislation is contemplated for the suppression of the cheap sensational literature which is supposed to occupy the police courts and fill the prisons. The most experienced judges and magistrates have expressed their convictions that many a Jack Sheppard in embryo might have betaken himself to an honest trade and grown up a valuable member of society, had he not been demoralized by the desire to emulate the deeds of the heroes of the Newgate Calendar. These, no doubt, are extreme illustrations. Our girls do not go to sea, nor are the boys of the upper orders seduced into bloodshed and burglary. But, looking at the matter in its lighter aspects, the same principle still holds good. The mind is formed by its intellectual food, and the chief element of success in instruction consists in making education at once enjoyable and beneficial. Recreation is not only to be sought in dancing or out-of-door games, excellent and even indispensable as they are in their place; it ought to be made an essential part of study. The lively imagination, never more realistically and dramatically active than in the nursery or schoolroom, should be stimulated and guided. Read the life of any distinguished man or woman, and we shall see that in the choice of books from earliest childhood they showed decided predilections. Omnivorous readers they may have been where books were scarce, but at least they knew exactly what pleased them; and we almost invariably find that their future career, when they were free to shape it, was the reflection of those pronounced early tastes. John Stuart Mill and Macaulay were prodigies of infantile precocity in studies philosophical and historical. The one and the other, with their comprehensive grasp, were born to be omniscient and tolerably accurate. Kinglake, who devoted the best part of a long life to the monumental story of a war-episode,—a story which had become ancient history, long ere he finished it, was nursed upon Homer in his mother's boudoir, and devoured all books on military subjects. So David Copperfield, the future novelist, found a treasure in the blessed little room at the Rookery, where he forgot his troubles when immersed in Fielding and Smollett, in Cervantes, Le Sage, and Defoe. We venture to say that many of his duller seniors would have found parts of those classical masterpieces exceedingly stiff reading. To the bright young enthusiast they they were touched everywhere by the enchanter's wand; and in the world of fancy into which they transported him, he was to live and move and have his being. It is a commonplace of the day to congratulate our children on their singular good fortune in having been born some sixty years later than their grandparents. If comparative luxury with far greater indulgences be an unmixed good, there is no denying the proposition. Whether they are better or even happier, are questions less easily answered. The oldfashioned discipline was one of Spartan severity—for obvious reasons. Children were treated neither better nor worse than their fathers and mothers before them. It may be worth while to glance at the contrasts between those ascetic times and the present. Social and domestic England had changed but little since the Revolution. Communication, no doubt, had greatly improved, but it was still slow, costly, and precarious. Isolation, even in considerable towns, was the prevailing rule, and the remoter country districts were shrouded in benighted darkness. The Metropolis was a city sui generis, and the Londoner was regarded with awe by the rustics as a foreigner of strange experiences. There were no railways to instigate a craving for perpetual movement. The shortest journey was a matter of serious thought and not to be undertaken lightly. For days on the great roads the intending traveller might have to wait for the chance of a seat on the stage-coach, or the opportunity of a return post-chaise. The sovereign of those days would have thought it an Arabian Nights' dream, had he been told that one of his proximate successors would spend good part of the year at a castle in the Scottish Highlands. Old Farmer George lived in peaceful content between the slopes of Windsor and the beach at Weymouth, as the gayer Regent divided his time between Carlton House and Brighton Pavilion. George III. was an affectionate and indeed a doting father, but in Madame d'Arblay's Memoirs we hear much of the ceremonial reverence with which he was treated by his daughters in the quiet domestic circle. That patriarchal fashion of government prevailed everywhere, and the distance between old and young was reverentially observed. We doubt not that wives could twist husbands round their fingers, or that a winning daughter, when she came to years of discretion, knew very well how to get her own way. We know that sons would break loose from paternal control, and burden the family properties by dealing in reversions and post-obits-none the less that they had been severely bitted and curbed. But as children they were trained to show something something like Oriental deference to their parents; they acquiesced contentedly as matters of course in the homely fare and the rigorous discipline. In the stricter households they stood up in the parental presence till they had formal permission to be seated. They punctiliously addressed the housefather as Sir, and their mother as Madam. There was no lack of love, but certainly there was no coddling. Venerable ladies who have in some way made their mark, have been falling into the fashion of writing autobiographies. Perhaps on the principle of forsan et hæc olim, &c., they all linger fondly on their childhood and girlhood, giving many curious and suggestive details. Their wardrobes, at the best, were wonderfully limited. A single frock for great occasions sufficed for their simple wants. They wore cotton stuffs in the depth of winter, and were indulged with little in the way of warm underclothing. They dressed in fireless garrets, and dispensed with washing if they could not break the frozen water in the pitchers. We have spoken of the single gala dress, and with regard to that there is a story told by Miss Sinclair in her 'Holiday House,' which shows how little attention was paid to juvenile coquetry. A perverse child, engaged to an afternoon party, slips into a stream, soaking that only dress. Her hopes of pleasure were high, so the disappointment was severe. little as she deserved it, she escapes retributive justice, and a good genius comes to the rescue in a managing woman who dries and irons the drenched garment. Our contemporary storytellers are sensational enough, but no one of them would hazard an episode so extravagant. It is unimaginable that any tiny woman of the day would submit herself in such attire to disparaging criticism. Mortified vanity would turn the gaiety to gall, and sorrow in solitude would be a thousand times preferable. But, A century ago, or even much later, the young folks had to take their chance of fair health; and parents from sheer force of custom acquiesced in the survival of the strongest. In many cases they could hardly help themselves. The nearest doctor may have lived many miles from the sequestered Hall or lonely Rectory. He was seldom sent for, except in extreme emergency, and probably his education was incomplete and his knowledge elementary. As the village farrier prescribed for the horses and cattle, so the children were dosed by rule of thumb from the shelves of the store-room. There was no coming to London for consultation with specialists, when the ailing heir or a favourite daughter showed symptoms of a serious internal ailment. There was no wintering in southern climates. The invalid |