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550 A PARALLEL BETWEEN THE SAVAGE AND CIVILIZED MAN.

eties, over those of pagan nations, is, we think, sufficiently obvious.

Nevertheless, we frankly avow our disbelief that civilization, without Christianity, can establish any essential difference among mankind. In our opinion, an uncivilized heathen, and a civilized European, without Christian faith, are not such totally dissimilar beings as some imagine. The exterior is, certainly, not feature for feature exactly the same in the one as in the other. In the inhabitants of our towns are to be found many modifications to which the heathen are total strangers; but at the principle they are the same, morally speaking, as we shall presently see.

The savage retains all the harshness of unpolished nature; the civilized man, all the polished and easy manners of the society in which he lives. The former abandons himself without reserve to all the impetuosity of his passions; the latter studies to restrain his within certain bounds; and either his ideas of convenience, personal interest, or conscientiousness of duty or dignity, rarely allow of their explosion. The former is negligent and idle; the latter active and enterprising. The one spends day after day in merely satiating the wants of the moment, regardless of the future; the other is provident and economical, and preserves the fruits of his labours for the sustenance of himself and family; the one is without civil, as he is without moral, laws; the other recognizes a society and a social order to which he submits himself, and to which, as a citizen, he believes it his duty to contribute, by his obedience to established order. But here we must close this altogether antithetic parallel. If we have sketched the leading traits and principal points of barbarism and civilization, it is but to shew that we know full well how to distinguish, in a social point of view, a savage from a European. But what we maintain, and what may appear paradoxical to many, is, that the heart of the one and of the other, if not regenerated by the gospel, is the same in the eyes of Him who knoweth what is in man.

Let it be understood that we do not range all heathens under the same line, as to their intellectual capacities and moral development; and without wishing to establish ourselves judges of the hearts of men, we discover shades sufficiently distinct between the inhabitants of New Zealand and the Hottentot; the Hottentot and the Indian; the Indian and the Chinese; the Chinese and the Persian. Moreover, while speaking of European civilization, we have not forgotten the prodigious influence which

Christianity has exercised on the amelioration of modern society. Of it we cannot say too much. If slavery is banished from amongst us, if our females have assumed their proper range and dignity, if we have a legislation and a jurisprudence, liberal institutions, academies, hospitals, and asylums; if we are distinguished by our beneficence and amiability of manners, it is to Christianity we are indebted for these inappreciable benefits; for it is this principle which has united, little by little, into one mass, this morality infinitely more pure than that of the ancients, and to the influence of which, all men born in the nineteenth century more or less submit; nevertheless, as an individual, he does as little love or practise the gospel as an Indian or a negro. But, let us here investigate the European as a stranger to the faith and life of Christianity, glorying in a civilization which has not and cannot change his heart, erring, as that of all other men.

Now let us establish a comparison between savage and civilized man, considering them in a religious point of view.

What do we discover in the greatest portion of pagan nations still living in a savage state? Gross idols, monstrosities, bloody worship, fanatic priests, and homicidal sacrifices. Amongst others who have risen a step higher, out of a state of barbarism to a species of civility, we find the worship of the stars of heaven, or the adoration of the plants and animals of the fields. In a third altitude of civilization, we with difficulty discover any manifestations of religious sentiment. But without attempting a full account of pagan worship, let us examine the distinct and characteristic feature of its theology.

According to our ideas, it consists in an absence of true notions of the moral character of God; a substitution of an imaginary in the place of a true deity, and a total want of solid hopes and consolations. The reader will doubtless perceive, that a difference in expressing various religious sentiments, is not essential to an argument. Without, then, stopping to view the various aspects which the pagan religions are capable of assuming, (for these variations serve only to establish, not to constitute, fact,) we would ask, can it be imagined that the student of the civilization of the nineteenth century, has a God less fictitious, more true or more real, than the pagan? He does not appear, we agree, under the hideous character of an idol, and thus the difference seems immense. But that God in whom he believes, from whom he derives his ideas, and seeks his knowledge, has the

same source as the pagan deities, in himself, and from his own conceptions.

The God whom he fancies he serves, is not that God manifested throughout the vast works of creation, not the God of the Bible, but a god which man has made for himself, after his own taste, his particular inclinations and passions; it is a god formed on a human model which is his prototype, whom he regards scarcely as his equal, fears as little as he loves, loves as little as he fears, to whom he bears a perfect indifference, and who follows him closely in all his sins.

The pagans of Greece and Rome had a patron saint of robbers, a goddess presiding over lewdness, a murdering Mars, and many other rival deities, vain, lascivious, proud, and ambitious. The gods of pagan Europeans are the same, for their spirits are employed in attempting to destroy the moral perfections of the only true God; in annihilating his sanctity and justice, through the medium of his mercies. Thus by representing his imaginary goodness and mercy always ready to forgive sin, they hold, perpetually, that the gates of heaven are open for all men without distinction; nor is there a man, from the honest tradesman, to the villain and criminal, who does not flatter himself that he shall obtain complete indulgences for his vices.

But a god who neither sanctifies nor consoles; inspires neither joy nor love; whose threats are no more dreaded than they are felt, and from whom succour cannot be derived, either in the time of affliction or the hour of death: does such an one deserve the appellation of a God? And those who are united to a divinity of such a nature, in what do they differ from that wretched being, who has for his only refuge in times of calamity, in the moment of his quitting this sublunary world, and entering an eternal one, but a piece of wood or stone fashioned by his own hands? The definition which the word of God gives of paganism, is philosophical; all men, according to it, are pagans, who live without God and without hope in this world.

In a moral respect, we discover the same traits of resemblance between the savage and the civilized man. For what is the aim of the former? It is to enjoy life as much as he possibly can, in drinking from all the streams of sensual gratification. And, amongst us, what is the ultimate intention of all our boasted establishments, of all our alliances and contracts, of all our education, but either to acquire a name, secure a fortune, open a bright career, or to live in ease and affluence? O could but the thought

of God be united to this industrious and commercial life, to sanctify it; and occupations which are entirely terrestrial, be elevated and ennobled by his Spirit.

But the love of God, the glory of God, has no more existence in the literary or mercantile works of the greatest portion of our citizens, than in the brutal expeditions of a savage army. The object of every one appears to be enjoyment. The whole world is explored a thousand times, to yield pleasure to sensuality—here, in a hideous and disgusting form; there, in a manner refined and distinguished. In Europe, egotism lies concealed, for it is a squeamish conscience which inspires it, and frequently those who are the most attached to this vice, declaim most warmly against it. Amongst pagans, where a dread of exhibiting this feeling does not exist, egotism walks in broad daylight, and each individual sacrifices to his wishes general and particular interests.

In Africa, and in the forests of America, there exists hatred between one chief and another, rivalry between one tribe and another. In France, at Paris, we have intrigues and squabbles amongst our literary societies, political discussions between our national representatives and the nation itself, rancour amongst members of all bodies, and persons of all states. The savage glories in the strength of his body, the pliability of his limbs, the perfection and ease with which he can throw his javelin or wield his mace. With us, we are proud of every thing, of birth, of rank, of riches, of exploits, of mind, and of science. When we look closely into this subject, civilization is but a deceitful varnish, through the means of which man seeks to shield himself, and disguise his moral misery to others. But, despite of his externally depicted beauty, his natural corruption pierces through the whole surface, and discovers his internal deformity.

Are you yet proud, men of modern Europe! of a civilization which has scarcely changed you, which has, morally, so little elevated you above the savage; of a civilization which has contributed so feebly to your true happiness, to the happiness of your souls? Were you serious or reflective, would you not already have profited by the many experiments you have made, and which must have convinced you of the insufficiency of the remedy you have employed?

Tell us, in particular, Frenchmen, fellowcitizens, how comes it to pass that, in the nineteenth century, after two revolutions, performed in the space of forty years, and

which ought to have purged society of all loathsome and heterogeneous elements; possessing so many distinguished men in all nations, so many able orators, legislators, public men; enjoying the value of such lofty institutions; instructed and enlightened as you are by the experience of all people, and all ages; seeing the arts, the sciences, and industry, flourishing among you; in a word, finding yourselves placed at the very head of European civilization, to which you give impulse, and which, without you, is checked ;-how comes it to pass, that, in the midst of such riches, you are yet in trouble, without security either for the present or the future? It is because civilization without Christianity is a disguised, a masked paganism; it is because you yet lack one thing, "the one thing needful." That which alone can give you solid peace, assure your hope, complete your happiness, realize your wishes, and be a lasting blessing, is the gospel of Jesus Christ; for "that which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit." "Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature, old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new." "Godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." "Who hath ears to hear, let him hear!!"

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IN the reminiscences of childhood, there is something peculiarly affecting. The retrospect of early years affords many mournful reflections. In the lapse of time, how many incidents have arisen, how changed are circumstances! Youthful companions, separated from each other by the roaring sea; the friends of childhood lain in the grave; those spots which once witnessed the sports of boyhood, so changed that they exist in memory alone; the initials graven on the bark of some favourite tree, now grown over and scarcely legible; another generation occupying the place where we once sported in thoughtless happiness. These reflections kindle the chord of melancholy, and throw a pleasing shade over the past. In the varied incidents of after-life, all the little troubles and anxious fears that then harassed the mind are forgotten, and we think of nothing but the joys participated in those gone-by

days. These joys imagination paints in such lively colours that we almost sigh at their remembrance;

The pleasing spectacle at once excites
Such recollection of our own delights,
That viewing it, we seem almost to obtain
Our innocent, sweet, simple years again.
Cowper.

We cannot at times help fancying that the sun shone brighter in those days, and that the sky was more cloudless. The fields and trees seemed to have put on a richer green then, and the flowers bloomed more beautifully, and diffused a richer scent, than they do now. But are not these in a great measure the delusions of imagination? Is Nature changed since then? Has it become more accursed? Oh, no!

There is a disposition in man to slight the advantages and pleasures of the present time, in the anticipations of hope, or in the retrospection of the past. Such a disposition manifests itself more peculiarly in the poet who loves to dwell on the happiness of days gone by, and to throw a melancholy shade on passing events: Thus so many bards have sung of the period of childhood as that stage of existence which is almost unalloyed by sorrow or care; but whether such a position is strictly correct, or correct to the extent supposed, admits perhaps of some doubt.

In childhood the bud of life has not yet opened its bosom to the storms and adverse gales that await the riper years of life. The limits of the youthful mind are not extended to that degree which can feel, in their highest sensation, the keenness of anguish or the bitterness of sorrow. And yet the obvious cause which precludes children from these serious calamities, at the same time prevents their participation in the refined enjoyments of a more advanced age. Their crosses are light when compared with those which they afterwards experience, and yet they undoubtedly affect them as seriously. The happiness of childhood seems to arise chiefly from a thoughtless buoyancy unused to reflection, and heedless of causes or consequences. Gray writes,

"Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise."

But to a thinking mind, how worthless is bliss that is based on ignorance! Who would prefer the vacant, unmeaning inanity of an idiot, to sane reasoning and warm sympathy, which, though they may suffer much, are nevertheless capable of refined enjoyment. The one is as the unconsciousness of sleep, the other as an awakened sense of what is passing around. So in youth; memory has no scenes to trace. Its pleasures

chiefly lie in anticipations of hope, and it scarcely believes it will be deceived. The happiness of childhood is an undefinable feeling; it enjoys, without caring whence its enjoyment arises. A physical buoyancy imparts an elasticity to the mind that makes it soon forgetful of the past. Yet who would desire, though he were the most miserable wretch in existence, that he should be deprived of the memory of the past; that recollection should be steeped with the dull potion of Lethe? What if there is much sorrow to be traced in the contemplation of events and feelings that are past, is there no treasure in the remembrance of happier hours? Surely no one would consent to lose the one, because of the pain of the other. No; we do not thus prize unconsciousness and insensibility.

In childhood, the mind revels in fairy bowers, and scenes of ideal felicity supply the place of reasoning. But who would soberly prefer the ramblings of fancy, even in her most delightful excursions, to the calm realities of truth? Who would prefer dreaming through life, to a consciousness of all its transactions? Few indeed. Fiction has charms, but they are delusive; the enjoyments of truth are real. The delightful anticipations of hope are soon dissipated; "the baseless fabric" is soon swept away; but the pleasures of reality are more perma

nent.

Some have asserted that childhood is happier than any other period of existence, because it is a state of innocence, its impulse generous, its actions confiding, open, and upright; that inhumanity to the distressed, and insolence to the fallen, those besetting sins of manhood, are utter strangers to the heart; that but little of sordid interest or selfishness, and that much of intrepid honesty is there displayed. Yet are such assertions correct? Will an unprejudiced person say, that he has often met with young persons so amiable, so sinless? It is true that we see less of crime in early years, but it is not because the mind is less corrupt. The desires of youth are limited; they seek those gratifications which are most in their reach. They are less exposed to temptation, on account of the vigilance of parents and guardians, therefore the more precluded from the commission of crime. Nevertheless, their conduct sufficiently betrays the depravity of their hearts; and though a complacency of disposition may lead them in after life to extenuate the errors of childhood, they are not the less real. Whoever has closely contemplated the dispositions of children from their earliest years upwards, and compared them with pure motives and religious princi2D. SERIES, NO. 24.-VOL. II.

ples, must have seen how very far they fall short; how much deception lurks within, and how little true ingenuousness! Or, supposing this to shew itself but partially on account of the absence of temptation, to what an extent does selfishness manifest itself in disrespect to parents or instructors! Indeed, the principle of every vice exists as much in the bosoms of children as in those of riper years. It becomes more developed by change of circumstances and frequency of temptation, but the principle remains the same in youth as in other periods of existence. That which once received extenuation on account of the weakness of reason, is in after years stamped with the more serious name of crime.

Sin

The idea that childhood is happy because it knows but little of sin, is delusive. exists as really and operates as fatally in the minds of the young, as in those of more advanced years: "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." Though it may be sufficiently concealed, the germ of every evil lies buried in the bosom of a child. Yet it is not by any means entirely concealed there; it buds forth, and produces its fruit-death. Whence the sorrows that arise in their minds? Are they not generally the consequence of derelictions from the path of duty? Disobedience, deceit, ingratitude, dislike of religion, are they not most frequently the cause of youthful sorrow? Let it not then be asserted that childhood is free from sin; for it contains its germ, though it may not manifest itself to a superficial observer, by reason of the restraint of education or guardianship. Yet it is true that they are not generally subject to that painful remorse which attends the crimes of riper years. There is often a certain degree of peace shed over the mind by comparative innocence in childhood, that affords a calm happiness, which they never feel afterwards when exposed to temptation and sin. As Cowper affirms,

"In early days the conscience has in most A quickness, which in after years is lost." Still, it is evident that generally they are by no means free from the sorrow and trouble that arise from misconduct and vice. The same demon reigns within, and brings forth the same corrupt motives and feelings.

There is one thing that more particularly mars the happiness of a child, and that is restraint. His mind is constantly soaring beyond his years, for that imaginary pleasure of which he is deprived at present. He fancies that when he is older he shall be happier, for he will not then be refused this, nor annoyed with that. But he v

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168.-VOL. X

find, as he advances in life, that though one restraint may be removed, others will rise in its stead, and that vexation will constantly attend him. Still, he knows nothing of this, nor will he be convinced except by actual experience. The pleasures and pride of manhood are his constant dreams, the consolation of some sorrows, but the despoiler of his happiness. He thinks of the future as a guardian genius that shall rescue him from the fetters of dependency. That control which is wisely placed over his wishes and actions, appears to him, through the false medium of ignorance, to be nothing better than odious tyranny. He sighs to be independent, as if he could then mould his own destiny. Little does he think how dangerous an enemy to his peace lies chained up within, which shall arouse at the watchword of liberty, and shall bind him in misery with chains beyond his power to unloose; when those passions which are now curbed, and lie dormant, shall raise their dominion of slavery. Little thinks he of these, as this worm at the core of his happiness destroys his peace with dreams of liberty and independence.

"From disappointment on to disappoinment,
Year after year, age after age pursued,
The child, the youth, the hoary-headed man
Alike pursued, and ne'er grew wise."

POLLOCK.

A painfully purchased experience may teach him at last the vanity of his pursuits when reason does not sanction them, and that, as he anticipates happiness only in the future, so he prepares himself for continual disappointment.

Thus, upon the whole, it does not appear that youth or childhood is superior to every other stage of life as regards happiness. On a close inspection, we do not find either of them so free from sorrow as is commonly thought. And, even if it were practicable, there are few indeed, who, for the sake of its enjoyments, would choose to lay aside their present condition, and submit again to the circumstances of youth. Let discontent then be banished from the minds of those who are advanced in years. Let them no longer idly dream over those evanescent joys which have scarcely left a just remembrance behind. There are advantages and peculiarities attendant on every stage of life, and it certainly does not augur well to impugn the wisdom of Providence in rendering the most useless and most dependent period of life the highest in the scale of bliss. If happiness is inseparable from a right discharge of duty, and a career of usefulness, then can it be confined to no stage of being; but as the taste and judg

ment become refined and corrected, so man becomes more capable of pure and intellectual enjoyment. Beaconsfield. J. A. B.

CREATION-NO. VIII.
(Second Series.)

We now proceed to note the closing verses of the narrative of creation contained in the inspired volume.

"And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowls of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. So God created man in His own image; in the image of God created He him: male and female created He them. And God blessed them; and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth. And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat and it was so. And God saw every thing that He had made, and, behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day. Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them. And on the seventh day God ended His work which He had made: and He rested on the seventh day from all his work which He had made. And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it; because that in it He had rested from all His work which God created and made.'

Or, as it may be rendered, Elohim exclaimed, Let Us create man in Our image; Our similitude. Let them enjoy dominion over the fish of the sea, over the fowl of the air, over the cattle, over the beasts, and over every prone animal, prone upon the earth, and over the whole terraqueous! And Elohim created man in His image; in the image of Elohim created He him: male and female created he them. And Elohim put His blessing within them. And Elohim pronounced over them, Be ye prolific; multiply; replenish the earth, and rule over it. Yea, have ye dominion over the fish of the sea, over the fowl of the air, and over every living creature of motion upon the earth. And Elohim pronounced, Behold, I give you, even every herb bear ing seed, upon the face, to the bounds of

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