cording to their zeal and skill; but the official person stood up for the alphabet, and was even impatient for it, having waited thirteen centuries now. He insisted, and would take no denial, postponement, promise, excuse, or subterfuge, that all English persons should be taught to read. He appealed to all rational Englishmen of all creeds, classes, and colours, whether this was not a fair demand; nay, whether it was not an indispensable one in these days. Swing and Chartism have risen. For a choice of inoffensive horn-books, and schoolmasters able to teach reading, he trusted the mere secular sagacity of a national collective wisdom, in proper committee, might be found sufficient. He purposed to appoint such schoolmasters, to venture on the choice of such hornbooks, to send a schoolmaster and horn-book into every township, parish, and hamlet of England; so that in ten years hence an Englishman who could not read might be acknowledged as a monster.". Chartism, pp. 104, 105.

Was ever such a disguise as this? Here we have merely the shallow prate of the whig and radical newspapers made to sound very original and profound. For in this plan of his has Mr. Carlyle added any thing to what at the time he wrote they were dinning in his ears? What symptom, when we come to think of his meaning, does he show of having gone deeper into the question than they? Why, he does not seem even to have guessed at the preliminary difficulties which must be disposed of before we can even approach his scheme.

Here is a still more notable instance of what we mean:

"And now, how teach religion? So asks the indignant ultra-radical cited above an ultra-radical seemingly not of the Benthamic species, with whom, though his dialect is far different, there are sound churchmen, we hope, who have some fellow-feeling. How teach religion? By plying with liturgies, catechisms, and credos? Dinning thirty-nine or other articles incessantly into the infant ear? Friends, in that case, why not apply to Birmingham, and have machines made and set up at all street corners, in highways and byeways, to repeat and vociferate the same, not ceasing night or day? The genius of Birmingham is adequate to that. Albertus Magnus had a leather man, that could articulate. Not to speak of Martinus Scriblerus' Nürnberg man, that could reason as well as we know who. Depend upon it, Birmingham can make machines to repeat liturgies and articles, or to do whatever feat is mechanical. And what were all schoolmasters, nay all priests and churches, compared with this Birmingham iron church. Votes of two millions in aid of the Church were then something. You order, at so many pounds a head, so many thousand iron parsons as your grant covers, and fix them by satisfactory masonry in all quarters wheresoever wanted, to preach there, independent of the world. In large thoroughfares, still more in unawakened districts, troubled with argumentative infidelity, you make the windpipes wider, strengthen the main steam cylinder, your parson preaches to the due pitch, while you give him coal, and fears no man or thing. Here were a church extension to which I with my last penny, did I believe in it, would subscribe. Ye blind leaders of the blind, are we Calmucks, that pray by turning of a rotatory calebash with written prayers in it? Is Mammon and machinery the means of converting souls as of spinning cotton?"-Chartism, pp. 102, 103.

This is amusing enough, but it is sad nonsense-nonsense through which, we think, the author would have seen, had he written it in plain, humdrum diction. Who on earth ever advocated a merely mechanical religion? Who ever dreamt that church-extension alone would

supply our need, unless the spirit of the Church went along with her form? We strongly suspect that if there be any subjects of which Mr. Carlyle knows less than others, they are the Church of England and the sentiments of her clergy. Had either awakened in his mind the respectful notice to which they are entitled, he would have seen how utterly aimless is the satire we have just quoted.

We must now, however, betake ourselves to Mr. Carlyle's last work, which has given occasion to these remarks, and in which all his faults have, we think, come to a head. What we have yet to say upon them will therefore be best done mainly with reference to it. Indeed he could hardly have chosen a subject more indicative of himself than that which has inspired it. Hero-worship seems to us the predominant principle of his character. His whole search in history is for great men. Great men, according to him, regulate the world's destinies, and he all but says, such can do no wrong. Let us consider for awhile this same principle of hero-worship so dominant in the mind of Mr. Carlyle, and so congenial, we venture to say, in spite of his opinion to the contrary, to the temper of the age in which we live.

Is it a good or a bad principle? Whichever it be, we confess we should not much like a person-above all, a young person-who had no tendency to it. A mind destitute of a sense of greatness must be destitute of "imagination, honourable aims, free commune with the choir that cannot die." And of all sublunary greatness, none certainly is so mysterious, so captivating, at times so overwhelming, as that which resides in our fellow-man. It is surely a generous and purifying feeling that we have towards the names of Dante, Shakspeare, Bacon, Newton, and Burke-the feeling which every young Englishman of the present day, who is worth anything, has towards the names of Wordsworth and Coleridge-the feeling which all Englishmen whatever have towards that of Wellington. God did not create such excellent works as those great men without meaning them to be contemplated and admired. The thought of a fellowmortal, alike us in so many things, being at the same time so different in others, having powers not only in another degree, but quite another kind from our own,-the perception in him of that indefinable but most real gift of genius, whereby he is not merely abler than his fellows, but placed beyond the reach of comparison, whereby he is not so properly styled able as creative,-seeing by intuition more than others can by any process of observation or induction,-capable at the thrilling moment of uttering the thrilling word, and daring the one unlooked for and decisive deed; this, as we have said, is the most fascinating and ennobling of earthly thoughts. We should have no objection to as much of it being expressed as is felt by Mr. Carlyle, provided he would take pains to guard it from taking a false direction.

But, unfortunately, he takes no such pains. The sense of greatness, unless the mind's homage be carefully given where alone it is

fully due, is too sure to become the worship of greatness. In such a result Mr. Carlyle apparently sees nothing wrong, nothing to be dreaded. His only fear is lest great men be not exalted enough. Idolatry would seem in his eyes to be no sin. The gift of greatness, according to him, can hardly be considered too much bound up with the man in whom we find it residing. Now, we cannot but think that, like every other leading sentiment of our nature, this enthusiasm for great men requires to be exercised with continual selfmistrust. We must always remember that the greatness we are contemplating is God's work, and only great for that reason that the true use of it, therefore, must be to lead our thoughts to Him, instead of permitting them to repose on anything short of Him; that the whole ought to be viewed as His gift, continually bestowed by his good pleasure, and liable, at the same good pleasure, to be withdrawn. With this primary limitation, our Hero-worship, if we are to designate our reverence for greatness by that name, will be preserved from its chief danger-that of becoming idolatry.

And next, a strong sense of the brotherhood into which baptism admits us, which the eucharist cements, and for which the Church witnesses in all her appointments, is desirable. We fear that, in saying this, we are as barbarians to Mr. Carlyle. But we feel sure that were his mind livelily and habitually impressed with these things, his way of speaking of great men would deserve less suspicion than it incurs at present. For then the union, not the chasms, between individual men and their fellows, would occupy most of his attention. He would see that all really good things must be done by those who feel that no individual should be more than one among many brethren-that in no great matter can a man be a law to himself. He would write no more such painful sentences as that the ethics do not yet exist by which we are to measure the conduct of a Mirabeau. Great men would not take more than their appointed place in that greater vision, the brotherhood of redeemed and regenerate men, which would then rise before him; they would rank among the details the comparative accidents, however ornamental, of the stately temple. He would set up no separate shrines for them by the way; but, on the contrary, would follow their pointing to the one true altar.

There are other, and perhaps greater, objections to Mr. Carlyle's tone of thought. What his formal religious opinions are we know not; and must beg, in at present characterising much of his writing as infidel, not for a moment to be understood as calling the author an infidel. It is quite possible for a man who considers himself a believer, to cherish, unknown to himself, an unbelieving temper; and all the more is this the case with one who writes and thinks, like Mr. Carlyle, in a mystical and reverential tone. This latter circumstance makes it imperatively our duty to put his readers on their guard. He says many things so cloquently religious, that they may fancy all is safe; or, at least, they may not be alive to the extent of their

not the letters, nor the syllables, but the words,-so that they may at once recognise them whenever they see them. Their eyes are engaged on the forms of the words, their ears on the sounds, their voices on the utterance." And in "The Schoolmaster," Mr. Baker adds

"To give facility and strength to this exercise, writing must accompany the reading of the words."

And he goes on to recommend that one of the walls of the schoolroom or nursery be painted of a dark slate colour,* as an enduring tablet for writing lessons upon, and for drawing any necessary illustrations connected with them.

"And thus," he continues, "the exercises of the pupil may be made to assume all the interest of oral and written language combined with delineation.

"Under ordinary circumstances, in families and in private schools, about a quarter of a year will be found sufficient for the instruction of a child in reading, spelling (acquired by copying the reading lessons), and plain writing. The characteristics of the proposed method are :-the education of the ear and voice, by which a perfect pronunciation may be recognised and produced; the education of the eye, by means of which minute objects shall be discovered and discerned, preparatory to its being exercised on types and writing; and the preliminary education of the mind on a variety of subjects, by which it may be prepared to enter the wider fields of knowledge, as soon as the teacher has recourse to the assistance of books."

We must not carry our notice of The Schoolmaster any further; indeed the remaining articles, with the exception of some by Mr. De Morgan, are of inferior interest, and we shall have subsequent opportunities of considering the subjects of which Mr. De Morgan treats.

We are compelled to bring our article to an earlier conclusion than we had anticipated, by a brief notice of the "Report to the Trustees of the Bequest of James Dick, Esq., &c., by Allan Menzies." This is one of the best reports on the state of education that has been published. We will not occupy our readers by any account of the merely local circumstances connected with it, but proceed at once to present to them a few of its more important practical notes and suggestions for the improvement of schools. The first we shall give, relates to a subject which all who are practically conversant with schools for the labouring classes find to be one of the most painful and difficult they have to encounter; namely, irregularity in the attendance of scholars.

*The following directions for preparing the painted walls are given by Mrs. Tuckfield, in the introduction to her "Evening Readings."

"The black walls cost about 7s. the square yard. The material is mastic, well known to all builders and plasterers. Mastic is a kind of cement, which is laid on a common brick or stone wall, like mortar, and, when dry, painted with three or four coats of paint, either very dark blue or black. When well done, the walls will last a century. Two bands of hard oak should be laid on the walls, one at the bottom of the mastic, the other about fifteen inches above it. The upper band is intended for the insertion of the points of the compasses, to describe curved lines, without injury to the wall; and from the bands, which are painted white, being parallel to each other, they serve as a guide to straight writing.

"When this plan for painted walls is thought too expensive, stucco, though much less durable, may be used; it costs 1s. a square yard. Mastic resists damp. Slates may be introduced between the wall and the stucco, to prevent damp, when stucco is used."

"There is no disadvantage under which country parochial schools more generally or more grievously labour, than irregularity in the attendance of the scholars. This is an evil which must no doubt always prevail more or less in rural districts, where the service of their children is, at certain seasons, valuable, and frequently indispensable to parents in the labours of the field. The urgency of this call has every where been acknowledged, and provision has been made for it in some German states, where public education is subjected to a very exact legislative control, by limiting the hours of attendance during the busy seasons of seed-time and harvest. A similar regulation might, with great advantage, be introduced in this country (Scotland); and indeed the practice prevails partially in many schools.

.

"Various causes conduce to generate and perpetuate this evil; but it appears attributable, in a very large degree, to a prevailing laxity on the part of . . . . the parents in paying school-fees.

"There is much reason to regret that such causes are allowed to operate. Of the fee paid for instruction it may truly be said, that, like mercy,

"It is twice blest

It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes."

To the giver the blessing is,-1. That it prevents the commission of a moral wrong in withholding a just debt, and thus, in one instance, tends to maintain a higher tone of character. The influence of such a feeling is important in a community of whatever rank. Its effect upon the minds of the pupils, who are always aware of the facts, the payment being made through them, must be in the highest degree beneficial. 2. It gives a sensible value to that which, in one sense, is indeed beyond price, viz. the culture of the mind, but the worth of which, for that very reason, is apt to be forgotten, unless there be some material token to remind us of it. 3. It bestows upon the parent a title, and creates in him a desire and feeling of duty, to ascertain and be satisfied, from time to time, that justice is done to his child......

"To these important advantages is to be added, that the regular payment of fees has a direct tendency to secure and invariably produces a more regular attendance of scholars than otherwise exists. Here there is an evident benefit to the scholars. The teacher derives one equally certain and important. He has no longer to contend with that distraction and derangement and disorganization, to which an irregular and fluctuating attendance necessarily gives birth, and which has a most discouraging effect; and he is thus enabled to exert his powers in the most favourable circumstances, and instead of giving his lessons piecemeal, and at detached intervals, to institute a steady systematic course of instruction."

We would earnestly call the attention of all who may have a voice in the appointment of teachers, to the following observations of Mr. Menzies, on the requisite qualifications of a candidate for this responsible office.

"Literary and scientific acquirements form, no doubt, a great and a very important part of the necessary qualifications of a teacher; but no truth is now better established, than that the faculty of acquiring knowledge is different from, and may exist without, the faculty of communicating it. The latter exists among different individuals in various degrees. In some it develops itself spontaneously, as occasion demands; in others it requires to be excited, directed, and matured. But there is no doubt that, in whatever degree it may have been bestowed by nature, the power may be improved by training and exercise. This ability to communicate instruction ..... converts what is otherwise problematical into certainty. The teacher who is equipped with learning merely, is but half vided for his undertaking. He is a husbandman who has laid up stores of seed, but is destitute of those implements, and of that knowledge of the capability of the ground, and its culture, which alone can enable him to sow with judgment and profit. He, on the other hand, who has the faculty of teaching,

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