EDINBURGH

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE,' 'CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE,' &c.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 18, 1849.

No. 294. NEW SERIES.

EARNESTNESS.

PRICE 1d.

up with the wildest absurdities that were ever yet accredited among men, otherwise belief in them had been WORTHY George Herbert, in his admirable old por- impossible. Wherever error is seen to prevail in any traiture of 'The Country Parson,' says that in preach-system of practice or opinion, it is because the original ing he procures attention by earnestness of speech; it truth which formerly sustained the system, and made being natural to men to think that where there is it credible, has been lost or progressively perverted; much earnestness there is something worth hearing.' and not because men had ever willingly and knowingly This, doubtless, is the true secret of all successful accepted or fostered their faith on mere delusion. It is speaking. It is an ancient saying, and worthy of ge- not in the nature of things that a man should be perneral acceptation, that he who would persuade others, suaded by anything which does not come home to him must needs show that he is thoroughly convinced him- with the effect of truth. The successes of the fanatic self. Whatsoever a man believes, and lays earnestly are accordingly traceable to the sincerity of his convicto heart, he will be likely to utter again with an em- tions. By relying steadfastly upon these, he would be phasis sufficient to induce others to believe it also: and, emboldened to appeal earnestly to men; and to minds on the contrary, whoever speaks merely from hearsay, of like character and cultivation, his doctrines might or without a sincere conviction in regard to the truth not unnaturally appear credible. The tendency to beof what he says, will inevitably fail to effect any real lieve whatever is earnestly enforced on the attentionpersuasion. His lack of a perfect belief in his own considered above to exist inherently in men - along statements will betray itself through the looseness or with the equally natural and relevant expectation that indifferency of his address. He will, to a close observer, wherever there is the outward sign of sincerity there is give evidence against himself of his inward insincerity. truth, will readily enough account for the origin and Persons accustomed to witness the proceedings of courts prevalence of the most extravagant forms of faith, and of justice, cannot fail to have been struck with the utter for the wildest eccentricities of conduct by which these incapacity of even the cleverest pleaders to produce a have been at any time accompanied. favourable impression on behalf of their client whenever they are personally conscious of advocating an unjust

Whilst earnestness, however, is the vital and sustaining element of fanaticism, it fulfils a nobler and indispensable capacity in the way of furthering the teachings and ends of wisdom. Truth, in its own nature calm and perfectly serene, becomes more universally attractive, and attains to a more effectual pre-eminence, when harmoniously allied with passion. The clearest scientific statement of any doctrine will not produce that overpowering effect upon the mind which will arise when the same doctrine is enforced with an earnest declamation. The natural ornaments and graces of utterance, which spring spontaneously from the intellect in a state of high emotion and excitement, though adding nothing to the intrinsic weight of facts and principles, do nevertheless recommend them more impressively to the attention, and, by interesting the feel

It is this quality of earnestness which explains the success of every fanatic. Because men love and admire earnestness, and have an instinctive belief that it is always the sign of something true, they listen willingly and eagerly to whatever man may come to them with an earnest and soul-inspired message. For it is a mis-ings and imagination, secure for them a more hearty take to suppose that fanaticism is mere imposture. The sorriest zealot that ever gained the slightest credit with the multitude, was successful solely through the power of some truth which he embodied in his doctrines, and which, notwithstanding the distortions and disfigurements of its external folds, he could bring earnestly before the minds of his adherents. No man ever staked his hope upon a lie. A lie is for ever unbelievable, and never gains even a temporary credence, save while it is mistaken for truth. It has to advance furtively in the name of its very enemy, assuming the habit and honest accent of reality, in order to obtain the most transitory reception with mankind. The soul never relies upon a falsehood. There was always some particle of truth bound

and adequate acceptance. The fable of Orpheus charming stones into motion by the power of his music, symbolises the grand attractions of eloquence and poetry-of all the fascinating and impassioned forms of human speech. This fine enchantment, which the earnest soul of a man diffuses over other souls, so that they instantly believe the word he utters, and are kindled with high resolves and aspirations, is as literally miraculous as anything that is reported of magical or preternatural agency. Wonderful, truly, and at all times inexplicable, is the power of persuasion. You cannot, by the subtilest analysis, explain or scientifically account for it; yet it is an incontestable effect, as uniformly following from every genuine display of earnest

ness as the purification of the air succeeds to the manifestation of material lightning. One might indeed call earnestness a sort of spiritual electricity, inasmuch as it is always a vital element in human nature; and when actively aroused, exerts a wholesome influence through the mental atmosphere, being even sometimes not unaccompanied with danger. Its persuasive efficacy is meanwhile undeniable. It circulates conviction, and serves the ends of truth, as the electric currents promote health by an energetic and sanative agitation. A mind charged with this irresistible puissance has ready and intimate access to all states and conditions of sympathy and sensibility, and may overrule them to the promulgation of whatever truths it is inspired with; for truth is ever prevalent when its presence is once felt. The soul delights to be subdued under its glorious dominion, and feels a nobler liberty when constrained to surrender in obedience to its command. Like the glow and beauty of the sunrise, like the delicious melody of winds among the summer leaves, is the kindly encouraging voice which bids thy heart believe! Welcome as the footstep of an expected friend, memorable as the tones of undying love, as the speechless joy of some grand deliverance, is that holy and mysterious annunciation, wherein truth cometh like an angel, saluting the soul with its glad tidings; for then is the man an inlet to the rays of aboriginal intelligence, and 'the inspiration of the Almighty giveth him under

standing.'

shall attain to higher knowledge.' Her rigorous, yet beneficent commandments, may not be anywise gainsayed, neither will they suffer the least infringement without serious loss to the offender. It is only by compliance, by an earnest fidelity to the truth, that a man can be established in freedom, valour, and authentic worth.

All action shoots around it everlasting influences. That which thou doest to-day shall not cease out of existence, but, as a power more or less momentous, become incorporated with the universal forces which circulate for ever throughout time and beyond time. Profoundly was it said by Schiller, Life is earnest.' The immortality of man enters into everything he does-how needful, then, to do it well! Consider that the worthiness or worthlessness of an act lies always in the spirit in which it is performed, and that a man can justify himself through no transaction wherein he does not throw his utmost capability, as the warranty of a sincere intention. Can we not transfigure the meanest duties by a certain lordliness and magnificence of performance? True dignity is ever the product of the man, and is nowise indigenous to his circumstances. The kingly Alfred, tending the baking of cakes in the peasant's cottage, was not the less a royal nature while thus humbly employed; nay, he would have even shown himself a greater man could he, in the face of his manifold state perplexities, have kept the cakes from burning. Diogenes was greater than Alexander, and might reasonably prefer to be himself rather than the conqueror, inasmuch as, with smaller means, he could realise a more sublime contentment; centralising within the kingdom of his tub more wit, wisdom, and manful independence, than the other could attain to with his wide imperial dominions. He, doubtless, is the greatest who can so overpower and subordinate his circumstances as to make the grandeur and beauty of character shine through them, even as the sun makes glorious the clouds the interception of his morning rays. A man may magand vapours which hang about the orient horizon to nify his life, and make it splendid and sublime, by the power of earnestness. Living, not in the shows of things, courting not the favours and prosperities of fortune, but intently holding on his way, with an eye to such things mainly as tend to a rational and intelligent advancement, he will grow gradually and securely in well

of self-possession wherein his habitual impulses shall be

All that is understood by intellectual and moral elevation is inseparably associated with earnestness of character. There is neither true intelligence nor virtue possible so long as the mind is tainted with indifference. He who would be accounted wise, must love wisdom with an unlimited devotion. If any man seek know ledge for selfish and unworthy ends, he will be inevitably deprived of its most invaluable advantages. The practical profanity which he thus commits will affect the integrity of his understanding; and that which should have been an accession of true insight to his soul, will, through a vicious use, become the sure means of his degradation. The sacred element of knowledge-being, and perhaps eventually attain to that perfection the quality whence the intellect derives new increase of vigour and enlargement, and which to a reverent and earnest mind is always the prime attraction-is utterly and scandalously thrown away whenever knowledge is prosecuted solely for secular or mercenary benefits. Everything that we can know, the meanest fact that can instruct us, has an intimate and significant reference to the culture of which we are capable, and in this properly consists its highest and pre-eminent value. Strictly and philosophically considered, the universe is a divine college for the education of humanity. All science, and history, and experience, exist, and are secured, as an available possession in the world, to the one end that the man of to-day may be richly and adequately enlightened.

In this illustrious university every man, by natural constitution, is appointed to be a student. To learn anything effectually, he will need to incline his mind earnestly to apprehend it in its total and manifold significance. Nature reveals nothing to a mere impertinent curiosity; this, rather, she perpetually confounds, till a man's frivolity becomes at last the instrument of his destruction. She will tolerate no vain shallowness, no trivial pretentiousness. Over all the gates and entrances of her institutions she has written in letters of enduring light-Use your gifts faithfully, and they shall be enlarged: practise what you know, and you

in unison with the law of his constitution.
But now, it may be said, are we, from this one-sided
commendation of earnestness, to infer that therefore
mirthfulness and sport are to be contemptuously dis-
paraged, and avoided as things incompatible and incon-
sistent with manful dignity? Dost thou think because
thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and
ale? Yes, by St Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the
tion even for the moderate and wholesome stoicism
mouth too. We would have no superstitious venera-
which we commend. Sport, too, we can honour in its
degree, for it also is a true thing, and is worthy of a
place and countenance among men. Earnestness is not
the antithesis to sport, but to indifference. Mirthful-
ness, wit, and humour, are equally as appropriate to
humanity as earnestness itself. Whatsoever thing is
being natural to man, is also assuredly desirable, and
genuine, is good in its own province. Honest sport,
even necessary to the maintenance of a healthful con-
dition of mind. That is but a sickly and feeble nature
which cannot laugh. It has even been affirmed, and,
as we think, not inconsiderately, that a man's moral
and social worth is estimable and measurable by the
extent of his capacity for laughter-that the man
who can laugh well, will be likely to do nothing in-
differently. Laughter, indeed, might be aptly enough
considered as the extreme earnestness of mirth; for
nobody can laugh heartily who does not laugh in ear-
nest. Those manifestations of the sportful spirit which
we designate pleasantry, wit, humour, and the like, are

characterised by nothing more distinctly than a certain tart sincerity, the lack of which would be the surest indication of their utter destitution of all merit. The keen ironical wit of such a writer as Fielding; the 'simpletonian' pleasantry of Goldsmith; the shrewder, yet generous humour of Walter Scott; higher still, that fine composite of the humorous and the pensive of which Charles Lamb and Thomas Hood have left us some choice examples; but above all, that profound, transcendental humour, such as Richter exhibitsthese, and indeed genuine wit and humour wherever they are to be found, are certainly misapprehended if they are ever regarded as being unimbued with earnestness. Accordingly, amongst other earnestness, earnest sport shall have our tribute of admiration; that being, in our belief, the preservative saline principle whereby the general waters of existence are sustained against the tendency of all mortal things to putrefaction.

PAULINE.

A HISTORIC SKETCH.

BY PERCY B. ST JOHN.

how little he concealed his happiness if she gave him a good-natured word! Pauline could scarcely be blind to the open love of Alexis, or the concealed affection of the poor frotteur; but however this may be, she said nothing, and appeared to notice neither. But young Laparaut had spoken to old Boulard, Boulard had spoken to his wife, and his wife to the young girl; but she kissed her adopted mother so affectionately, and said so gently that she wished not to leave home, that the worthy woman was silent, and put off a little while any serious discussion of the matter.

Jean, meanwhile, became sombre and thoughtful; he dared not hope, he dared not even think of making an offer; he, a poor workman, with uncertain means of livelihood, and so far beneath the position of her he loved! Had she been an unfriended orphan, without home, he would have joyfully offered his heart, and the only fortune he had his honest labour. While thus depressed, an event occurred which drove Pauline com. pletely out of his thoughts.

One day he was sent for to wax the floors of a house near the Palais Royal, the apartments of which were generally devoted to the pleasure-parties of the courtiers. Jean, who was well known and trusted, was told to wax the floor of every room then unoccupied. He obeyed, and soon found himself in a chamber of luxurious ap

loves and happiness. Jean had seen them often before;
but they had never affected him so much, and forgetting
time, place, and his duties, he leant on the stick which
held the wax, and fell into deep thought. Suddenly he
was startled by voices in the next room; a horrible
sentence caught his ear, and justified his listening.
Pale and terrified, he hearkened to every word, and
moved not, for fear of being discovered. He had dis-
covered an awful and frightful secret; and he was a
dead man if caught in that room, the ill-joined wains-
cot of which allowed everything in the next to be dis-
'What shall I do?' thought he to him-
self: to-morrow is the fête of St Louis; I have no
tinctly heard.
time to lose.'

PAULINE was an orphan adopted by some worthy citizen of the Rue St Honoré, Paris, who, having brought her up to the age of sixteen, had placed her in his shop-pearance, surrounded by pictures which told of rural a perfume warehouse- -to dispense his goods at the counter. Women in France are almost universally the practical heads of commercial establishments. The master of the house, when he does not lounge away in a café, play billiards or cards half the day, or walk about like one living on his means, is contented to occupy a dignified and retired position, attending, not to sales, but to wholesale purchases. But such was not the case with M. Boulard, the adopted father of Pauline. Both he and his wife shared the labours of the shop together; he keeping the books, while Pauline and Madame Bou lard attended to the details. The young girl was very pretty and very modest, and her presence contributed not a little to the success of the business. The good couple, having no children of their own, had manifested their intention of making Pauline their heiress, and this added to the charm which hung over the perfumer's

store.

Pauline had many lovers, a great many-as young ladies who are pretty, modest, and virtuous are apt to have, especially when rich; for although the world is not half so selfish and wicked as certain persons fancy, yet a grain of interested love will always peep out among the truest suitors. Two lovers were chiefly assiduous in their attentions: the one, a rich shopkeeper of the same street; the other, a poor frotteur. Both were young, tolerably good-looking, and very devoted in their attachment; and it would have been hard to say which was most deserving. But Monsieur Alexis Laparaut was rich, and Jean Prevost was poor. It will readily be understood that the parents of Pauline would not have hesitated in their choice; but they knew only of the affection of Alexis; that of Jean was concealed even from himself. Alexis came often to the house under one pretence or another, and was always favourably received. The good Boulards were highly flattered at his preference. Pauline liked his frank open manners, and always greeted him with a smile. The frotteur-one who waxes and shines by means of rubbing the wooden floors of rooms-came to the house in the exercise of his trade. He always bowed low to Pauline, and asked her how she was; and even on her fête day had brought a single rose, which was graciously received. Jean was also a commissioner, and ran on errands, and often came to the house to buy perfumes, soap, &c. for his employers, who, appreciating his honesty and desire for work, freely trusted him with purchases. How happy Jean was if Pauline only served him; and how gentle and respectful were his tones, and

Jean left the room on tiptoe, and with the utmost caution; then descending the stairs, feigned to leave for dinner. No sooner was he clear of the house, than he made for the prefecture of police, and entering the hotel, asked to see the lieutenant. The servants replied that he could not be seen. It was one o'clock, and the fashionable Paris dinner-hour of that day-now six hours later. Not a valet dared disturb M. de Bellisle from his meal; but Jean insisted, stormed, implored; and at last, as they seized him by the shoulders to pitch him out, cried, Do not drive me out. I must see Monsieur de Bellisle: the king's life is in danger!'

It was the eve of St Louis 1758, and the king was Louis XV. The servants hesitated, looked at one another, and an agent of police, struck by the man's tone, bade them pause.

Go, repeat his words to Monsieur le Lieutenant,' said he; and show this person into his private cabinet.'

Jean, recovering his breath, followed his guide, and soon found himself face to face with the magistrate, whose mien was severe and inquisitive, and even incredulous. He bade the frotteur sit down, and asked him his business in a somewhat petulant tone-the tone of a man disturbed in the midst of his dinner. 'I come, sir,' said Jean firmly,' to inform you of a plot against the king's life.'

I am informed of such plots every day,' replied the prefect, who was used to pretended denunciations from persons aiming at exciting attention and gaining money. But let me hear the details.'

Jean related all that the reader knows, and added that the attempt on the king's life was to be made that evening at the reception on the occasion of the eve of the fête of St Louis, when it was usual to present the monarch with bouquets of flowers. One of these was to contain a poison so subtile, that the king, on smelling