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faculty of yision , association will , until corrected by experience , connect a new impression on either of them , with the corresponding action of the other , or with that repetition of the past impression which we eall memory . As the faculties of the mind ¦ ¦ e constantly observing new phenomena in the external world , associations multiply ; they rise no linger exclusively , from the senses , but extend to the other faculties , connect themselves in series , form trains of thought , and constitute the discursive power of reason and of imagination .
" We find , then , with reference to the faculties of the impulsive class , that their ordinary state is that of repose , if not of sleep , from which they are roused only by the presentation , either actually through the senses , or by association through the imagination , of their appropriate objects . They then become suddenly and violently excited , and , unless reason , the moral sentiments , and . self-control , are properly developed , dominate for a time over thought , speech , and action . The appetite or instinct gratified , the faculty returns to its ordinary state of repose , and generally cannot again be roused fora definite time .
" The faculties of the organic class appear never to be entirely dormant , although they are capable of great increase of energy under the stimulus of the will , which converts perception and memory into attention and recollection . When the impulsive powers are the most highly developed , the intelligent powers become instrumental to their gratification , and their energies are chiefly exerted as servants to the passions .
" In the directive class , a very equable degree of activity , although not incapable of some modification , appears to prevail . The just , the benevolent , or the religious man , is never for a moment unconscious of the dues ofjustice , charity , and religion , even though , under the strong excitement of other emotions , he may be led to do violence to those faculties . It is manifest that the permanent energy of the social , ethical , and religious virtues , is necessciry to consistency of character . "
We have sufficiently indicated the nature of this work , we cannot enter here upon a discussion of the system . The weakest part strikes us as being those chapters wherein he undertakes to apply this system to politics , theology , and ethics . If u e are to take Bacon ' s test and judge of philosophies by their " fruits , " the Natural System here disclosed will not secure our adherence . But the book is , nevertheless , the production of a thoughtful man , and will be read with profit even by those who like ourselves reject its " system . "
1 he Manual of the Human Mind has a more modest aim . Dr . Carlile proposes to set forth , in a brief , clear statement , what the various powers and operations of the mind are , the place they hold in the mental organism , and their connection with one another . In doing this he modestly repudiates all claims to originality . He is too well read in metaphysics not to be aware of the danger of claiming originality , and says that we ought to hesitate before hinting such a claim . " For himself the author avows that not unfrequently when he imagined that he had arrived at certain conclusions bv his
own excogitations , he has not only found them anticipated in other books , but in books which lie had read , and from which he bad , in all probability , though unconsciously , derived both the conclusions and the reasonings on which they were established . " Such a passage is enough to inspire confidence ; and we are sufficiently conversant with philosophical writings to pronounce Dr . Carlile an original thinker although his thoughts are no novelties . In this littlo book he has not only produced an excellent Manual , but he baa thought out for himself the conclusions it contains . Ah an educational book . it has the decided advantages of brevity and clearness .
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CLAKK AlillRY . Clar ^ .-ibbe . y ; or , lite 7 ' riulx of Youth . i ! y 11 k ; Author of " Tin ( jf DiHciplint ; of Life . " In M volu . II . Collmrn When a writer achieves any success , no maltci how small , by one publication , he almost invariably writes a second time , because hu succeeded , not because lit ; has anything to say . This is the cause ol the general inferiority of second works . They arc manufactured to order , they do not come spontaneously .
The Discipline of Life gained Home small success , and hence Clare Abbey . It is quite clear that there was no internal impulse forcing the authoress to write this book . She bad no story to tell , do characters to paint , no expeiicnce to communicate , no lesson to teaeh . Invention- there is none , pathos none , humour none , nubile analysis of character none . Tim story iiiovbn in the broadest ruts ol commonplace , the ehunieleiH are at once vague , uninteresting , ami yet familiar in their ( stereotyped incamentu .
Ernest de Grey ( notice the names !) is a highspirited youth , bred up to fortune , but ruined by his father's speculations , and forced to leave the family domains and to earn a living for himself . Clare Abbey passes into the hands of Lord Vere , whose son and daughter—Reginald and Camilla St . Mam- —form two of the principal figures in the story . Reginald is affected with an unaccountable sympathy for Ernest de Grey , and when that vague young gentlemen enters the Church and
comes , down to the living at Cranleigh , the reader forsees that a friendship will spring up between these two shadowy persons , and love between Ernest de Grey and the gay young Camilla . As if to forestal expectation , the authoress actually has the courage to make Ernest meet Reginald and Camilla riding In the lane—Camilla ' s horse does what all horses are bonnd to do in novels , viz ., he stumbles—Ernest , as a correct hero , darts forward , et cetera , et cetera .
Mem . for Novelists . This is to give notice , that for the last time we have narrated the incident of a hero " darting forward " to arrest a runaway horse , or rescue hi 3 future heroine from being " dashed to earth . " Our patience is thoroughly exhausted Not one more repetition of that incident will we be servile enough to record ! If novelists will employ such invention , we will not aid and abet them by noticing it . Let heroes save heroines in some less familiar way . The horse business is used-up ; let the carcase be sent forthwith to the knackers I
The superb young Ernest having " darted forward , " you know of course what occurs . Intimacy springs up . Songs are sung , poetry is read aloud , love follows in due course . But Camilla is onlycoquetting with Ernest ; and when he pours forth passionate words she is flurried , and begs he will not think of such a thing . Camilla is not captive to that killing young clergyman . Her heart is susceptible enough , however , in the case of a still more
shadowy person , Mr . Frank Hargrave , who gains her affection in a rapid and incomprehensible manner . He induces her to elope with him . But Ernest de Grey is at hand to " save her . " He does " save Iict" ; and she , having shed the requisite amount of tears , and having learned that Frank Hargrave is married to another , marries Ernest , and "they live very happily all the days of their lives . "
Now , really , we must protest against paper and ink being wasted on such a story as that . Old as every page is , it is not selected from among the interesting pages of romance ; there are some stories that never grow old ; there are some that are never young , and this is of them ! But , if the author lack invention , we arc bound to demand that this deficiency be compensated by some other qualitysuch as dramatic power , or eloquence , or wit , or observation . With one of these qualities , a great variety of commonplace incident may be accepted ; without them , we cannot understand why novels
should be written . Is there such an imperious necessity for " new novels , " that they must be supplied , even if the only novelty lie in the binding and titlepage ? Is there such an a > strus goading the writer , that in spite of having nothing to say , he must write on as if his teeming brain were " bursting with big thoughts" ? What was it forced the author into writing this book ? It was not " hunger , " or the feat might he excused ; if it was " request of friends , " we trust , that when that request is made again , it will not be granted until after a plain self-interrogation of this kind : —
" Have I , clever writer that 1 am , any new story to tell ? or any old one with new incidents or new characters such as 1 have known ? or have 1 experienced anything in my own life which I have not yet given shape to , but which , if truthfull y fashioned , would appeal , ; ih all experience does , to the universal heart ? or have ; I known . strange out-of-theway people in strange out-of-the-way scenes ?" Having answered any of those queries aflirinatively , it becomes lawful to grant the request of friends . Otherwise it is not lawful . Positive injury is the result , and , injury purchased with no greater good than that Hiilisfaction the author
denve . H at seeing three lifeless volumes on his table ! Our readers know tbo keen relish with which we devour i jood novels , und how heartily we prui . se them when we have the chance ; but it " does appear to u . 4 that the lawless leniency of criticism , pulling as chefs d ' uMivri \ s , works which have not salt enough within them to be preserved in the memory for three days together , has , with concurrent causes helped *<> make the novels of | , 1 U ; day as bad an they were in the gloriouH epoch of f ; lu , Minerva 1 ' ichh . Therefore , although severity is never
an agreeable necessity , it w a necessity which all critics should accept . Of Clare Abbey we have already indicated ou opinion ; l > ut in justice we should add , that unfa vourable as that opinion is , the work is not worse —nay , perhaps something better- —than the mam . rity of novels which claim to be " read " because they are baptized this season . There is nothing positively absurd or foolish in it ; level mediocrity sustains its pages equably ; and if it nowhere calls for admiration , it may be read with the aid of copious " skipping . "
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DEFENCE OP IGNORANCE . A Defence of Ignorance . By the . author of " How to make Home Unhealthy . " " Chapman and Hall It is somewhat surprising that a writer of so much wit , humour , fancy , and intelligence should not have perceived that the irony lying at the bottom of this Defence of Ignorance could not , in the very nature of things , be successful beyond the limits of a few pages . A man may write a Panegyric on Folly , or a Defence of Ignorance ; but to suppose that a volume with serious and even polemical tendencies could be borne along by such a machinery as this , viz ., aselect committee inquiring into the state of education , with a view of adopting necessary measures for the Defence of Ignorance , is
to suppose that the substance of a volume lies in a bon mot . In the present case the reader sees throughout that the author is careful to bring forward his views on education , and adopts a chimsy machinery for the purpose . All that is said might have been as successfully said without the elaborate jest being constantly thrust before the attention . There is too much of the joke prepense in it . But although we regard the machinery as a failure , the book has fortunately the redeeming merits of being very witty , very amusing , ay , and very suggestive . The pages are crowded with fanciful and humorous similes , illustrations , turns of phrase , and beneath the pleasantry there is serious thought . Take the following of a—
CLASSICAL ACADEMY . "Dr . Thomas Williams , a member of the University of Cambridge , and Ph . D . of Pisa , does by no means neglect the Greek and Latin of ' his young gentlemen' Fit Euclid Hall Academy . When Captain Harris exhibited his drawings of wild beasts to the Zooloos , they were amazed , and said , that * he undoubtedly took very strong medicine' before he could become so clever . Doubtless they knew how Englishmen are taught . Very strong medicine and very nauseous is daily administered by Dr . Williams to his young gentlemen , whom by that means lie
hopes to make extremely aviso . In an uncarpeted room , with dirty walls , the windowa made opaque with paste , sit the recipients , fifty in number . They Hit on forms that are immovable , and they are expected to remain immovable upon their forms . Their books are supported before them upon dull rows of unpainted , wooden desks , with inkstands fixed therein , about as far apart from one another as the raisins in the Sunday pudding . Dr . Williams struggles with nature to put bigness into his own five feet seven . Ko situ on a lofty throne , before a desk or altar , and to him the rows of worshippers look up . He might be Serapifl , as the god appeared before his demolition . The gigantic idol , with his
arms tipon the temple roof , wan no less a real god in the Serapion , than here in his Williamsion , Williams is sublime . When the hollow metal of the idol broke under the profane hatchet of the iconoclast , the crack was thought to be the crack of doom . The worshippers shrank to the ground , cowering with fear : these worshippers of Williams even in their dreams would shudder at the thought of a bold hand or voice uplifted against him . "JJuiro . I met Williams , by-the-by , one day at » dinner-party , and the five feet seven of his height seemed then to be b y live feet six too much for him ; if lie could have had but an inch of himself left , wherewith to run into a mouse-hole , I believe that such a temple would have then Hufliced .
" (/ Ivhtta . A nod expresses the nublime Avill , quickly understood among an abject crowd . The first ( . ' reek cl . ts * goes up . Twelve " l > oyn stand side by side , each holding u l > O ()] t whi ( -h slightly trembles ; they stand before the deHlc ; if the oune were u sacrificial knife , a picture might be drawnof Williama as a savage priest about to offer tvv < lve youths to the (« od of !« , » , irai ,,., ; . i r ,- that this is not agreeable , and I could wish that a most , useful cause , like ours , could be maintained in the ascendant by means JesH repulsive . Hut children seek for knowledge , and their eagerness must , ho repressed . The ; book which these youths hold is in each case the . same , and open at the same page . Iteontuius the plays of Sophocles . Triune boys have been drugged through grammar as through u cactus-bush . They know / ill about -rvrtru . Williams hud not the couBiuttmey to say for thorn tlio active part , 1 ( strike , I have struck , I will strike : ho
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660 ( R %$ Urairrr . [ Saturday ,
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Leader (1850-1860), July 12, 1851, page 660, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse2.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1891/page/16/
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