with a copy of Homer without being told it was a correct re-issue of the Leipsic edition of Heyne. Grant edited the first six books of the Nichomachian Ethics in a manner worthy of the subject, but the attempt did not receive encouragement, and the third volume has been abandoned. Now this is about the last state of things to which an Englishman should have his attention directed, by way of feeding his vanity. If the English Universities are content to abdicate their high functions as pioneers of thought, if they contract their attention to the cultivation of mere grammatical learning and mathematics, they surely ought not to appear as lacqueys in a department to which they have devoted the whole of their energies, and to pick up the crumbs of their German cotemporaries, who, in addition to grammatical learning, have taken the whole empire of mind for their province. But such being the case, it is a travesty of human intelligence for a reverend senior to point to this degradation in proof of the intellectual superiority of his countrymen, and can serve no purpose except to draw down upon us the contempt of mankind.

The fact is, the Germans far surpass us in verbal criticism, simply because they energetically cultivate the loftier departments of knowledge to which that criticism is accessary. We fail in the lower, because we do not aim at the higher processes of thought. Grammatical studies draw their chief nutriment from those of a philosophical character, and cannot even be pushed into their higher stage without being merged into philosophy itself. With us mere verbal studies are stricken with paralysis, owing to the neglect of metaphysical speculation. With the Germans they flourish, because they are studied in connection with, and furnish a basis to, metaphysical speculation. They study the classics as a help to philosophy. We take up philosophy as a help to the classics. The following of the natural system is life to them: the inversion of that system is death to us. We may readily grant to Dr. Whewell, that-for all practical purposes, taking practical purposes to mean those of a gross material character-the English University system is the best; just as it is the best for a youth intended for the mechanical arts to devote the great bulk of his attention to the studies most likely to advance his professional prospects. But there are other objects quite as practical as material success or worldly domination, which Dr. Whewell loses sight of, both in his scheme of morality as well as in his views on University education. There is the habit of regarding nothing as real or permanent but what is typical of the higher beauty within; of slighting material purposely when it stands in the way of lofty

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spiritual endowments. There is the habit of scorning danger in the path of duty; of placing man's highest concern not in the pursuit of riches, but in the exploration of truth; and his greatest pleasure not in sensuous enjoyment, but in intellectual speculation. If the German systems of philosophy have not discovered the secrets of which they are in quest, these are, at least, some of the results which they have conferred upon their cultivators. If the treasure has not been unearthed, the ground, by being delved in the pursuit, has been made to yield harvests which may well put to the blush those who appear only as gleaners in the field. But the results of the English Universities, so far as these may be connected with the mechanical arts of the country, Dr. Whewell can grasp and thoroughly appreciate. They exist in the shape of material prosperity about him. It is only when great intellectual riches have been purchased at the expense of the lucrative arts, that his keen eye forsakes him. In allowing, in the one case, material wealth to hide intellectual poverty, and, in the other, material poverty to conceal intellectual wealth, Dr. Whewell only once more classes himself with the crowd, who value nothing but what they can measure with a two-foot rule or count upon their ten fingers.

In reality the work of the German Universities begins where ours terminates. But there has been an attempt of late years to open schools of mental philosophy in Cambridge; and Dr. Whewell's books have been written with a view to supply the students with manuals upon the moral branch of the subject. The result of the attempt, however, does not improve the contrast, so far as Dr. Whewell's University is concerned, and is even worse than the literature which he has brought to its support. In Germany philosophical_study is based upon the acquisition of the learned languages. It presupposes a facility of going to the fountainhead, and interpreting the works of the great masters for oneself. Mental philosophy in Cambridge presupposes an acquaintance with no language but that of the country, and is commonly applied to assist those to a degree whose classical lore is in too desperate a condition to be brought up for that purpose. In Germany the postulant does not find himself in the porch of philosophy before he has gone through a long course of disciplinary training. In England he may be plunged into it just raw from a hedge school. Aristotle taught that young men were the worst recipients of philosophy;* and Plato that none ought to be set to the study of dialectic only in the last stage of mental study, that they might bring to the pursuit minds endowed with all the other branches of learning. † In Germany Nic. Ethics, book i. chap. 3. + Republic, book vii. n. 539.

this advice is adhered to, but in England disregarded. We cannot therefore be surprised at the result, that in the one case philosophy should flourish, striking its roots deep into two noble literatures, and transmitting the history of thought in such a form as to present to the eye of the student all the glittering antitheses and relationships of past systems; but in the other, that it should be stricken with atrophy, and produce or communicate nothing deeper than what may be found in Tibbs' 'Popular Educator, or Mrs. Marsham's Lessons for Young 'Children.' If we stick the plant of philosophy in an uncongenial soil, with the roots in the air, and the top downwards, what else can we expect to gather but dust and ashes?

We are sorry, then, we cannot point with Dr. Whewell to the introduction of moral studies in Cambridge as an important 'era in the history of moral philosophy in England.'* So far as those studies have been placed upon a wrong foundation, so far as they have been introduced not as a supplement, but as a substitute for disciplinary training, we think there is much less cause for congratulation than regret. Indeed, when we look at the literature with which it is accompanied, and on which it relies for its growth, we absolutely despair of any step being taken in that quarter but of a retrograde character. It is not from those who confound legal with moral right, who make conventional arrangements 'the basis' of morality, who invite us to seek in laws of very dubious import, and in institutions which conflict with the fundamental notion of right, the great principles of justice and equality—it is not from these that we can expect any clear elucidation of the rules by which man should regulate his actions, and by which society should adjust its progress. There is a conservative element in Cambridge which leads it to square its philosophical theories in accordance with the obsolete system it is pledged to support, and which manifests itself in the exhibition of very rotten arguments in defence of very rotten institutions. Now this element may be occasionally useful as a drag, but certainly cannot be expected to lead to any motion in advance. The habit of looking upon deformed institutions as standards of correctness, of forcing the mind to fashion its notions of moral beauty and excellence in conformity therewith, generates obliquity of vision, a false method of handling things, which adheres to the judgment even in the abstract regions of philosophical inquiry. It is, then, to the great body of unbiassed thought and original speculation existing outside the Universities of England that we must look for the revolution of those ideas which will carry philosophy into the

* Lectures on Moral Philosophy, p. 228.

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heart of society, and gradually adapt its institutions to the conceptions of its most enlightened members, until the advances of the inner spirit to perfectibility shall stand revealed, not caricatured, in the outer manifestations of the world.

ART. VII.—(1.) The Sumachar Hindoostani. Lucknow. 1861-63. (2.) Observations on the Administration of India. By the RAJAH DINKUR RAO. Calcutta. 1862. Printed for private circulation. (3.) The Indian Budget for 1863-4. Speeches of Sir C. TREVELYAN at Calcutta, on April 30th, and of Sir C. WOOD in the House of Commons, on July 23rd, 1863.

A PROFOUND self-esteem, an immovable pride too conscious of strength to be demonstrative, seems to be an unfailing characteristic of the great governing nations of the world. We see it in the ancient Romans; we find it in the British. As long as affairs proceed with tolerable smoothness, we do not care to scan closely the elements of future embarrassment. We will settle the matters as they arise, is the motto of our national policy. And a very good one it is, in many respects; but when the questions to be settled arise in a distant country, we are apt by our delay to lose the initiative, and allow the question to assume a shape different from that which we should have desired. Indian questions, whether of war or peace, are too much in this predicament; and it is to one of those questions, now beginning to take shape in our Indian empire, that we desire to direct attention. If the British public took much interest in Indian affairs, they would discern the germ of the matter, destined ere long to acquire great importance, in sundry facts which have been chronicled in the newspapers during the last two or three years, and more especially within the last few months. But we fear the British public of late has been in no such attentive mood.

The interest in Indian affairs, so rudely awakened by the disasters of 1857, has had its day, and the old crust of indifference has again grown over the body-politic in regard to the internal condition of our great empire in the East. Even the cotton crisis has failed to reinvigorate the flagging interest. The drowsiness of a tropical noon seems to fall upon us when we think of those far-off climes. Our mind involuntarily gets into its easy-chair, and sets the punkah agoing to lull us amid the sounds of an Indian debate. A minister at Calcutta may reverse the policy of his predecessor, only to share the same fate at the hands of his

successor. The reforms of Mr. Wilson may be re-reformed by Mr. Laing, to be reformed again by Sir Charles Trevelyan; and the schemes of each and all of them, and of Lord Canning to boot, may be turned topsy-turvy by Sir Charles Wood at home. But what matters it? Is not India quiet, and is not its quiet synonimous with content? To the English public these various Ministers seem to be experimenting on a vile corpus, which is indifferent to its own fate, and whose writhings-if it be thought capable of writhing at all—are deemed of no importance to the lordly race that holds India in its grasp.

This apathy of the British public must be deeply felt by our statesmen who take the greatest interest in Indian affairs. They find themselves surrounded by an inert mass, which will not bestir itself to consider new ideas of policy, still less to lend to those ideas that impetus which is indispensable to their adoption by the British Government. They know that the native world of India, inert as it seems to us from a distance, is beginning to move with new life, new ideas, new aspirations. They find themselves on the crest of a slowly rising wave, that will eventually heave us upon new rocks if we do not take heed to our steering. With languid interest, or rather with absolute indifference, we hear of ever-recurring conflicts between the Home Government and the Government at Calcutta ; but we leave the rival powers to settle the question as they may, and do not care a jot whether the destinies of a hundred and sixty millions of Indian fellowsubjects be determined at the Viceregal Court on the Hoogly or at the India House in Westminster. Does it never occur to us that these 160,000,000 of Indian fellow-subjects might have some little share in the management of their own affairs? Do we believe it possible that we shall always be able to retain them in a state of pupilage? Or, if possible, do we think it advisable, or worthy of British policy, to do so? If the English public will not interest itself in the concerns of India, would it not be well if this apathy on our part were compensated by allowing our Indian fellow-subjects to take more interest, and play some little part, in the management of their own affairs? It is not possible that the present state of things can long be maintained. India is changing, and we must move with the times. Stand still we cannot. Step by step a great change, already commenced, will go on, which for good or evil must vitally affect the character and permanence of our rule. Is it not desirable, then, that the British Parliament and public should give heed to the matter, and timeously devote consideration to a great and difficult problem of statesmanship, the practical solution of which must extend over many years, but to the successful accomplishment of