all the power of a new-born life. Manners have acquired a just independence. The spirit of truth, of generosity, of ingenuousness, has gone forth, insphered in these principles. We dare reflect. There is no artifice to serve, no question to evade. We hail the augmenting light, the glowing splendour, the perfect day. The bird of night and the beast of prey need only hate the searching beam. So long as these principles are retained, so far as they shall reach, earth is released from its tyranny and man is loosened from his thrall!

Having presented this rapid epitome of some of the most interesting histories in this progress, it will be necessary to return to the examination of other causes by which it has been sustained.

There is one not a little curious, and not a little difficult to define. Certain enigmas have constantly fixed the attention of mankind. How they arose we are at a perfect loss to discover: whether they contain the rudiments of science under allegorical names, we are at an equal loss to ascertain. They have seemed to trifle with human hope, flattering it only to betray. But though their veiled meanings have not been penetrated, many useful results have sprung from the research. The philosopher's stone has not been found, nor has alchemy arrived at the secret of making gold: but the idea gave birth to studies which have proved to be sufficiently attractive and useful without this chimerical expectation.-Perpetual motion was another desideratum, which directed the attention of all who were devoted to mechanical enquiries, and though unattained, some of the most delicate and beautiful movements of mechanism may be attributed to this pursuit.-The elixir vitæ filled the human mind with the hope of terrestrial immortality, but this was not only a stirring thought, it must also have induced a more accurate examination of substances which were imagined to be necessary ingredients in it, and a closer inspection of that frame whose youth it was for ever to preserve.-The anima mundi and vis inertiæ are not brought to light, but they left an impression on the human mind that there were hidden principles of nature, which was never effaced, until Newton unfolded them in all

their simplicity and grandeur of agency.-The Tertium quid was never traced, but it excited attention to the connections between cause and effect, so much required in the rigid conduct of present science. How large a portion of human knowledge may be referred to similar fables, which all have learnt to reject!

In connection with these fictions, we must remark the influence of accident upon this course of man. That has flashed upon him in a moment which the researches of centuries had not accomplished. But these events require master-minds to seize and improve them. What detraction is it from the discovery of gravitation and the invention of the telescope, that Newton saw an apple drop from a tree, or Galileo a tube in the hand of a child? For such incidents had frequently occurred but the association of such trifles with all that is vast in the universe, shows intellect of mightier mould than if none had suggested these studies.

There is a certain elasticity in the human character which must not be overlooked in the enquiry. Let this character have uncontrolled liberty of action and engagement, and it often sinks into stupor and lethargy. But resistance will call it forth hence those magnificent bursts of energy which history narrates. It may appear strange to us that impediments to intellectual progress should have been allowed to remain so long; yet had they not, we must have lost some of the finest displays of our nature, and must have failed of some of the most gigantic strides in its career.

Diversities of national character have also been beneficial. These diversities often depend upon the scenery, and always upon the institutions, of a country. Were man uniform in his habits and pursuits, he would be held in no check and roused to no emulation. There would be no addition to the stock of national ideas from foreign travel or history: the world would have one level, and the species be crowded into one undistinguished mass. But now the taste and bent of nations differ: and the result is that accessions are made to the great commonwealth of knowledge, as various, as they are important.

There has generally been also a certain scantling of great minds dispersed through the world: minds formed to dictate wisdom and virtue. Every people has its sage. To them this progress is greatly indebted. For nations can never rouse from their stupor of themselves: the ardent counsels, the great examples, of the wise and the good, must be the encitements. And if we believe our first dramatist, that "spirits are not finely touched but to fine issues," we shall conclude that this distribution is not a fortuitous, but fixed, arrangement for scattering the seeds of improvement through every tribe and variety of man. In illustration of this remark, we may observe the homage which ancient monarchs paid to intellectual greatness. Philip made Aristotle preceptor to his son. Antigonus honoured Zeno by asking him to his court, and Ptolemy sent him the royal compliment of an embassy. Dionysius welcomed Plato and consulted him on the most intricate affairs. And Alexander devoted a superb casket, which he obtained from the treasure of Darius, to hold his favourite Homer,-a casket which was even borne by him in the midst of battle.

A love to native country is inconceivably valuable in this respect. We all admit the wildness of that civism which, in its affected love to the species, overlooks all its details and distinctions. A people must identify itself with a local habitation, or it never can be illustrious. A wandering tribe can have no care for any permanent institutions or any splendid works. How beautiful is a filial patriotism! The country which is its object can never sink into entire debasement. Nor does this more confined attention to our native soil distract the plan of general improvement: by this method only can the aggregate be increased. Who can forget the pathos of recollection when Anthores dies? "Dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos."+ We find this passion softening the breast of heroes as they rush to the combat: even the stern Achilles remembers his parents and his country ere he marches forth to avenge his friend.

"Thus when the sun, prepared for rest,

Has gained the precincts of the west,

Shakspeare's Measure for Measure.

Eneid: lib. x.

A singular means of improvement has consisted in the fusion of different peoples and nations. Certain invaders have descended upon more favoured regions than they supposed their own to be, and, having conquered their inhabitants, have quickly amalgamated with them. A fellowship of advantages has thus been forcibly obtained. The following are attestations of the remark. The Gauls, who had hundreds of years before entered Greece, seized upon Rome. The Trojans settled in Latium. The Saxons established themselves in Britain. The Lombards flocked to Italy. The Tartars ranged over China. The Moors spread through Spain.

But, very possibly, certain exceptions will be arrayed against this theory of progression: and plausible exceptions too. The removal of learning from some of its most celebrated seats may be alleged. We admit that Babylon, Athens, Rome, have not improved. But the locality forms no part of the question. This may appear to be often capriciously selected. It deserted Egypt for ages, but under the Ptolemies returned. It languished in Rome for ages, but at last revived under various popedoms. Such places are only useful as repositories, and repositories are only useful as they tend to the general supply. It might not be difficult to prove that the downfall of those states was greatly beneficial, even in this light. Has knowledge perished in their ruins? Or is not its ascendancy and influence multiplied a thousand-fold since they ceased to fill earth with their fame ?

Our ignorance of many ancient inventions is objected. But it is not contended that improvement has been made upon every particular branch of former knowledge and art. Many secrets are lost. Much valuable discovery may be forgotten. But was ingenuity ever more fertile than at present? Did invention ever convert itself into more graceful and useful forms? The The ques

Wordsworth.

tion does not relate to an amendment of the same arts, but to a superiority over them by those which are more excellent in design, and more conspicuous for utility.

It will be remarked that many works of knowledge must have been destroyed. This is, of course, granted. But it is worthy of notice that there are but few works lost to which any reference is made by those that survive and none are wanting to which that reference is made in the most respectful manner. Many parts of these authors are mutilated, but enough remains to warrant an opinion at least of the rest. The fate of the Alexandrian libraries we must bitterly deplore: but if, as has been generally understood, its volumes were principally devoted to theories on civil government, the injury received by literature cannot be so irreparably severe.

The pre-eminence is claimed, by this class of objectors, most triumphantly for the ancients in the liberal and fine arts. But if this be due in respect to eloquence, it is to their proportionate disadvantage. For the magic of that eloquence greatly lay in being the only medium of communicating impressions to the multitude. This arose from the scarcity of books, and very prevalent ignorance of them. And splendid as it is, its use and practice are so generally superseded by the press, by the common spirit of enquiry, by the wide diffusion of information,that we would not purchase its restoration at such an enormous expense. In painting it may be presumed that the masters of modern Europe have transcended those of ancient Greece and Rome. Sculpture may perhaps be able in these days to show nothing worthy of comparison with the antique. But this is an art which respects nature: it is pure only as true to that standard: that standard has been searched: as improvement was hopeless, nothing was left but imitation: this is too unambitious: and therefore this noble art has not been frequently pursued. We cannot rival their statuary by kindred workmanship: we must, therefore, oppose to it the later discoveries of that philosophy without which art is but effeminate amusement. But the deserts of that philosophy are perhaps as superior to those of these relics, as Socrates the philosopher exceeded Socrates the sculptor.