FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

Is one of a class of books which is rarely encountered in the present day. The writer is a scholar, though his reading is by no means limited to learned or English classical literature ; he seems to be a recluse, yet evidently observing and alive to what is going on in the world ; that he is a leisurely thinker there is no question, with the penetration and judg- ment requisite to reach the kernels of things, and the art to strip them of the leaves,. husks, shells, and other encumbrances of the essential truth. He has also a clear, close, and vigorous style of composition, formed chiefly upon the weighty old English writers, yet not in imitation of them, nor devoid of the liveliness and tone of the present day. Fr ieiuls in Council consists both of essays and dialogues; the latter not only appropriate, and of dramatic consistency, but fulfilling the further object of answering objections that might be urged against positions in the essays, or modifying, explaining, and developing views, that could not be done in the text without overlaying the composition or encumber- ing it by notes. The interlocutors are three. Dunsford, a college tutor, retired into the country upon a living ; his former pupil Ellesmere—now a great lawyer, and representing the hard, proof-requiring, anti-humbug, rather than the mere utilitarian intellect ; Milverton, another of Dunsford's pupils—au elegant, observing, active mind, disposed to literary leisure, and the author of the essays. The friends meet oc- casionally, and for the most part at Milverton's country place, to hear him read a paper ; and at the close, a conversation takes place, in which the question and its treatment are discussed, each person taking the side and advancing the views most appropriate to his character.

The subjects of the essays are sometimes general—the common topics of scholars, divines, or writers at all times; as Truth, Greatness, Fiction, History, Despair. Others are nearly as common, but have more re- lation to actual life; as Recreation, the Art of Living with Others, Un- reasonable Claims in Social Affections and Relations, and Conformity— not so much meaning a feigned adoption of some profitable dogma or opinion, as the tendency of mankind to submit to customs and even fashion. Two of the essays are upon current subjects, to which public and Parliamentary attention is now directed—Education, and Pub- lic Improvements.

But however common the subjects may be, there is nothing common in their treatment. The scholar's thought and elevation raise the moat hacknied topics above the cant or heavy formality of the mass of speakers and writers : there is nothing of Parliament or the pamphlet by author- ity in the essay on Education—nothing of the Sanatory Report or the Horrors of Grave-yards in the essay on Public Improvements. In like manner, the reflective observer of life and the real philanthropist give reality and practical application to the most remote and the most worn themes. There is freshness in the treatment, not merely from novelty of view, but from independence of mind, a freedom from the trammels of custom and conformity, a disposition to think for one's self, and to utter one's thoughts, not in defiance but in disregard of " public opinion." Both the essays and dialogues are enlivened by a tempered vivacity of manner; and the dialogues have sufficient dramatic consis- tency for purposes of variety, without approaching the force and marked distiumness of the stage.

In a general way, we should characterize tbe opinions of the book as sound and measured. The conclusions are mostly right, and rarely in extremes. There may be questionable views, and an opinion may occa- sionally be pushed too far ; but the views that seem paradoxical are for the most part only new-looking, or too much elevated above the com- mon notions, or run counter to worldly maxims or to the narrow routine of practical men. The opening of the paper on Public Improvements is full of truths of the kind we allude to.

" What are possessions? To an individual, the stores of his own heart and mind, preeminently. His truth and valour are amongst the first. His con- tentedness, or his resignation, may be put next. Then his sense of beauty, surely a possession of great moment to him. Then all those mixed possessions which result from the social affections—great possessions, unspeakable delights, much greater than the gift last mentioned in the former class, but held on more un- certain tenure. Lastly, what are generally called possessions. However often we have heard of the vanity, uncertainty, and vexation that beset these last, we must not let this repetition deaden our minds to the fact.

" Now, national possessions must be estimated by the same gradation that we have applied to individual possessions. If we consider national luxury, we shall see how small a part it may add to national happiness. Men of deserved renown andpeerless winner' lived upon what we should now call the coarsest fare, and the rushes in their rooms with as high or as contented thoughts as their etter-fed and better-clothed descendants can boast of. Man is limited in this direction; I mean in the things that concern his personal gratification: but when you come to the higher enjoyments, the expansive power both in him and them is greater. As Keats says, A thing of beauty is a joy for ever : Its loveliness increases ; it wiU never

Pass into nothingness; but still will keep

A bower quiet tor as, and a steep

Full of sweet dreams, and twain'. and quiet breathing.'

" What, then, are a nation's possessions? The great words that have been said in it; the great deeds that have been done in it; the great buildings and the great works of art that have been made in it. A man says a noble saying: it is a possession, first to his own race, then to mankind. Aple get a noble building built for them: it is an honour to them, also a daily de R lit and instruc- tion. It perishes: the remembrance of it is still a possession. If it was indeed preeminent, there will be more pleasure in thinkingof it than in being with others of inferior order and design.

" On the other hand, a thing of ugliness is potent for evil. It deforms the taste of the thoughtless: it frets the man who knows how bad it is: it is a dis- grace to the nation who raised it; an example and an occasion for more mon- strosities. If it is a great building in a great city, thousands of people pass it daily, and are the worse for it, or at least not the better. It must be done away with. Next to the fully of doing a bad thing is that of fearing to undo it. We must net look at what it has cost, but at what it is. Millions may be spent upon some foolish device, which will not the more make it into a possession, but only a more noticeable detriment.

" It must not be supposed that works of art are the only or the chief public improvements needed in any country. Wherever men congregate, the elements become scarce. The supply of air, light, and water, is then a matter of the high- est public importance: and the magnificent utilitarianism of the Romans should precede the nice sense of beauty of the Greeks; or rather, the former should be worked out in the latter. Sanatory improvements, like most good works, may be made to fulfil many of the best human objects. Charity, social order, conve- niency of living, and the love of the beautiful, may all be furthered by such im- provements. A people is seldcm so well employed as when, not suffering their attention to be absorbed by foreign quarrels and domestic broils, they bethink themselves of winning back those blessings of nature which assemblages of men mostly vitiate, exclude, or destroy."

This high preference of the spiritual to the material, of the intellectual to the bodily, of what the Stoics meant by good (bonum) in contrast to the more sensual or accommodating interpretations of the Epicureans and other sects, pervades the book. At the same time, there is nothing of the school or the cloister in the views ; though an analogous leisure and retirement may have tended to produce them. The great exception to this remark is in the paper on Unreasonable Claims in Social Relations; which treats the subject in a harder and more worldly way than many will admit in words, however they may support the author's opinions by their conduct. The most unsatisfactory essay in the book is the one on Greatness : indeed, it seems to us to mistake the subject; whose nature is indicated by the term itself. But to follow each particular essay, though pleasant, is not practicable. We will be content with gleaning a few passages as examples of the author's thought and matter.

TRUTH DT AUTHORS.

That man reads history, or anything else, at great peril of being thoroughly misled, who has no perception of any truthfulness except that which can be fully ascertained by reference to facts; who does not in the least perceive the truth or the reverse of a writer's style, of his epithets, of his reasoning, of his mode of narration. In life our faith in any narration is much influenced by the personal appearance, voice, and gesture of the person narrating. There is some part of all these things in his writing; and you must look into that well before you can know what faith to give him. One man may make mistakes in names and dates and references, and yet have a real substance of truthfulness in him—a wish to en- lighten himself and then you. Another may not be wrong in his facts, but have a' declamatory or sophistical vein in him, much to be guarded against. A third may be both inaccurate and untruthful, caring not so much for anything as to write his book. And if the reader cares only to read it, sad work they make be- tween them of the memories of former days.

CATHEDRALS.

To me a cathedral is mostly somewhat of a sad sight. You have Grecian monuments, if anything so misplaced can be called Grecian, imbedded against and cutting into Gothic pillars; the doors shut for the .greater part of the day; only a little bit of the building used; beadledom predominant; the clink of money here and there; whitewash in vigour; the singing indifferent; the sermons not in- different but bad; and some visitors from London forming, perhaps, the most im- portant part of the audience; in fact, the thing having become a show. We look about, thinking when piety filled every corner, and feel that the cathedral is too big for the religion, which is a dried up thing that rattles in this empty space.

EDUCATE FOR HAPPINESS.

It is a curious .pbtenomenon in human affairs, that some of those matters in which education is most potent, should have been amongst the least thought of as branches of it. What you teach a boy of Latin and Greek may be good; but these things are with him but a little time of each day in his after life. What you teach him of direct moral precepts may be very good seed; it may grow up, especially if it have sufficient moisture from experience: but then again, a man is, happily, not doing obvious right or wrong all day long. What you teach him of any bread-getting art, may be of some import to him as to the quantity and quality of bread he will get; but he is not always with his art. With himself he is always. How important, then, it is, whether you have given him a happy or a morbid turn of mind; whether the current of his life is a clear wholesome stream, or bitter as Marsh. The education to happiness is a possible thing—not to a happiness supposed to rest upon enjoyments of any kind, but to one built upon content and resignation. This is the best part of philosophy. This enters into the "wisdom " spoken of in the Scriptures. Now it can be taught. The converse is taught every day and all day long.

CONFORMITY TO CUSTOM.

But the way in which the human body shall be covered is not a thing for the scientific and the learned only; and is allowed on all bands to concern, in no small degree, one half at least of the creation. It is in such a simple thing as dress that each of us may form some estimate of the extent of conformity in the world. A wise nation, unsubdued by superstition, with the collected experience of peace- ful ages, concludes that female feet are to be clothed by crushing them. The still wiser nations of the West have adopted a swifter mode of destroying health and creating angularity, by crushing the upper part of the female body. In such matters nearly all people conform. Our brother man is seldom so bitter against ns as when we refuse to adopt at once his notions of the infinite. But even re- ligious dissent were less dangerous and more respectable than dissent in dress. If you want to sae what men will do in the way of conformity, take a European hat fa. you, subject of meditation. I dare say there are twenty-two millions of peo- ple at this minute, each wearing one of these hats in order to please the rest.

Or rather, not to chance displeasing them ; not " to look singular."