make the Deity so merely a chip in por ridge, as to consider pleasure, happiness, or expediency, word it how you will, the ultimate end and aim of man's actions and desires. He saw indeed that human hap. piness (thoroughly, not partially understood,) affords the true measure of God's will to his rational creatures; yet per hoc, non propter hoc, was his fixed estimate of is the rule or measure of action, but not the end or motive of action. Let me, he argued, be only sure that I have discovered what promotes human happiness, and I am sure that I have discovered what is God's will; but then, he contended, it immedi ately becomes our duty,* and not merely our interest, to do that will. Duty to God, man's reasonable service, has also this su periority, that it carries his moral capabilities to their highest point, giving him the consciousness of God's approval. Socrates did not begin by assuming, whether from prejudice or fanaticism, that a certain mode of conduct had the divine sanction, and then infer that such condcut must promote human happiness; but he first ascer tained what will promote human happiness, and then inferred that this conduct has the sanction of God's approval. That this is a fair estimate of the usefulness, the temperance and the religion of Socrates, has al ture he desires to introduce was long ago deliberately rejected* on the ground, that practically it was more dangerous to virtue, than theoretically valuable for science. Socrates was well acquainted with all the leading facts on which such theories and nomenclature have been founded by the utilitarian schools of Aristippus, Epicurus and Aristotle; but whilst he states or admits his knowledge of these facts to Aris-utility, or in other words, that usefulness tippus and to others, he insists upon a nomenclature which shall more clearly distinguish virtuous happiness from vicious pleasure. And he was right, right as a practical moralist, to insist upon reforming the phraseology of a corrupt and sophistical generation, as the first step towards teaching them sound principles and a virtuous practice. Aristippus had neither the prudence of Aristotle nor the sentiment of Epicurus, and so could not fight the battle of utilitarianism, as they could and did; but such armor, however forged and wielded, could not resist the divine temper of the weapons of Socrates. He contended that there must be a consciousness of duty to God in order that there may be man's reasonable service and appropriate virtue; for that no prudent choice of the more pleasurable pleasure in preference to the less pleasurable pleasure can constitute the service which the Deity requires from man, the service which a rational and consci-ready been proved by numerous quotations, entious, yet passion-tempted creature owes to an Intelligent Creator. A virtue useful to nobody was no virtue at all in the opinion of Socrates; but he did not therefore infer that the utile quidlibet (not even the eternal utility of Paley) is the ultimate end of man. If we might borrow for an instant the bold humor of Rowland Hill, in a matter which calls for his strong goodsense, we would say that Socrates did not he enjoyed less of the pleasures of life than the voluptuous man, who employed all his thoughts in the pursuit of them."-Memorabilia, book 1. chap. 3. "If I am observed to be not over-delicate in my diet, if I sleep little, nor once taste of those infamous delights which others indulge in, assign no other cause than my being possessed of pleasures in themselves far more eligible, which delight not alone for the moment in which they are enjoyed, but gladden with the hope of yielding perpetual satisfaction."-Memorabilia, book i, chap. 6. "Nor do my votaries (Virtue is supposed to be speaking) fail to find pleasure in their repasts, though small cost is wanted to furnish out their table; for hunger, not art, prepares it for them; while their sleep, which follows the labors of the day, is far more sweet than whatever expense can procure for idleness; yet, sweet as it is, they quit it unreluctant when called by their duty, whether to the gods or men."-Memorabilia, book ii. chap. 1. See all the quotations about the religion of So crates. and might be proved by many more. In a word, the great principles of conduct, as set forth by his philosophy, are-piety as the motive, usefulness as the measure, and self-command as the means. The order and connection of these principles, as they are exhibited in the "Memorabilia" of Xenophon, might be likened to the parts of a Doric column, and so presented to the sight. The base of the pedestal should be reverence for God. The die, or body of the pedestal, squared to a line, should be self-command. On this pedestal the shaft of the column should be usefulness to man, in all the relations of human life; and the capital, of perfect Doric Simplicity, should be moral beauty. In the visible metaphor by which we Dr. Bowring tells us that "it is in fact very idle to talk about duties; the word itself has in it something disagreeable and repulsive; and talk about it as we may, the word will not become a rule of conduct." But will the more agreeable word pleasure become a rule of conduct? Can we cheat men into a discharging of their duties, by telling them they are pleasures? In the first place it is not possible; in the second place it is not desirable. Socrates took other means to prepare his pupils for the steep ascent; yet he told them also of the pleasures • of a noble energy. have illustrated the philosophy of Socrates, was a philosophy, not of flowers only, nor beauty, it will be observed, is made the even of flowers and fruits, but it was a phicapital. As we shall have a much better losophy of seeds and plants, of buds, of opportunity of treating this most sound, as flowers and of fruits; yea, of future harit is most Grecian, principle, when we vests. come to speak of the Socrates of Plato as compared with the Socrates of Xenophon, we will only add a picture of moral beauty, which must command admiration, respect and love for the character and philosophy of Socrates, from every man that studies them intelligently and fairly, to the end of time; requiring that irreverent hands be withdrawn from that divine head, on which Xenophon has placed this simple and graceful wreath of a well-earned praise. "As to myself, knowing him of a truth to be such a man as I have described; so pious towards the gods, as never to undertake any thing without first consulting them; so just towards men, as never to do an injury, even the very slightest, to any one, whilst many and great were the benefits he conferred on all with whom he had any dealings; so temperate and chaste, as not to indulge any appetite or inclination at the expense of whatever was modest and becoming; so prudent, as never to err in judging of good and evil, nor wanting the assistance of others to discriminate rightly concerning them; so able to discourse upon, and define with the greatest accuracy, not only those points of which we have been speaking, but likewise every other, and, looking as it were, into the minds of men, discover the very moment for reprehending vice, or stimulating to the love of virtue: experien. cing, as I have done, all these excellencies in Socrates, I can never cease considering him as the most virtuous and the most happy of all mankind. But if there is any one who is disposed to think otherwise, let him go and compare Socrates with any other, and afterwards let him determine."—Memorabilia, book iv. chap. 7. There is something revolting to our sense of moral beauty, in turning from this picture of the philosopher of ancient times to the picture of the man of science, with which the reviewer of Bacon ends his work. We do not wish to dwell upon the contrast. That Bacon was a man of science, not, we think, the man of science, Socrates would have been the last person to dispute ; nay, he would have been the first to yield him a title to which he had the fullest claim. Why then did Bacon condescend to deny, or even to dispute, Socrates' claim to the title of philosopher? May we not say that Socrates is the philosopher, not of antiquity only, but of all time? As a moral philosopher, estimated by the difficulties he had to encounter, the means he possessed and the effects he produced, we do not consider ourselves presumptuous in claiming the highest place for him. For his philosophy Socrates did We e are sure that the reviewer of Bacon will not take an unfair advantage over us by replying that the philosophy of Socrates blossomed and fruited indeed in his own principles and conduct, and in the wisdom and goodness of many of his friends and followers, but that it has had little practical effect on the world at large, and so may be called a philosophy of flowers. Such an assertion may be made by thousands with perfect sincerity, but assuredly not by any sound scholar; and by whomsoever it is made, and with whatever degree of sincerity, it certainly is not true. not live in vain, neither did he die in vain, in so far as the world's principles and prac tices are concerned. That his philosophy did not bear and has not borne all the fruit that might have been expected from the blossoms, are faults or defects for which neither he nor his philosophy is answerable. Is it urged that these lessons were not found sufficient for the world? Of course they were not sufficient, if they were not sufficiently applied. If the statesmen and the priests of Greece would not do what was necessary to bring the lessons of Socrates and his school home to the minds of the people, of course the teaching of Socrates was insufficient,-insufficient, that is, to arrest religious, moral and political anarchy,-insufficient, that is, to establish in men's minds the religious, the moral and the political obligations, which alone could have saved Greece. If the statesman and the priest did not apply the remedy, of course the disease was not cured. It was contended by Aristophanes, and doubtless by Melitus, that the established religion and the established discipline were suffi cient to correct the evils of the times, or, at least, if they were insufficient, it was only because they had been relaxed, and all that was required was to urge them on the public mind more intensely. So Aristophanes and Melitus contended, when they accused Socrates of impiety, innovation and anarchy. But the true question was, (and the answer is plain in the present time,) whether the religion of Greece could continue to be a sufficient foundation for principles and conduct, under any other mode of reception than that which Socrates has suggested in his explanation of the myths of Homer, and of which he has given so beau tiful an example in his version of the 'Choice of Hercules.' His views tend in- | some great statesman to arise who may be deed to the reformation of all religions; aware that all our powers for good are but it is by a method very different from wanted to resist evil. We Protestants centhat of the iconoclast. The reformation sure the Church of Rome for silencing, or he proposed would break down nothing attemping to silence Galileo, being ourwith which piety and obligation are asso- selves convinced that all physical truth ciated. All he requires is to give a sounder ought to be known. Is moral truth then so interpretation to the letter, and not to persist unimportant, that Protestants may silence too long, and till it is too late, in giving a the testimony of Socrates, hide the facts of real sense to that which ought to be re- his life, and neglect his convincing reasonceived as mystic. We leave to phrenolo-ings?-nay, may misrepresent them at gists to explain the action of the brain, their pleasure? Does the history of the but we believe that it becomes physically world so abound in unquestionable and irreimpossible at advanced periods to believe sistible evidence and testimony of the great what at earlier periods is perfectly credible. truths which are demonstrated and testiStatesmen may keep men's heads as cool fied, both in his life and by his death, that as they can by fetters for the body and dog- we may neglect his testimony? mas for the mind; but the progress of events, accelerating intellectual develop-cal usefulness, and Bentham a still better ment with a velocity at once fearful and hopeful, must convince the real statesman (O that he would arise!) that one mode of conduct is alone safe, as it alone is reasonable and conscientious, at least in a man of sound knowledge; in a man, for example, who knows all that may be known and will be known of the religion and philosophy of Greece. That philosophy, the philosophy of Socrates, we further contend, has not been in vain, in so far as the world at large has received it in various forms; though, alas! it was not allowed by her priests and statesmen to save Greece. Bacon may be a good witness of physi witness of political usefulness; we would neither dispute their claim, nor derogate from its value; but we ask, where shall we find such a witness as Socrates of moral including religious principle? Has the world's history three such connected witnesses, such a body of evidence, as Socrates, Plato and Aristotle supply? Why are they hidden, or made known to comparatively a few; and even that with no deeper sincerity, no larger truth, than some of the criticisms of our fatherland supply? If Dr. Arnold thought rightly, that the history of Thucydides is of the deepest imShall we be told that now at least the portance and closest applicability to our own philosophy of Socrates has done all its al-times and interests and circumstances, is lotted work, and therefore is cast aside by scholars and universities, religionists, philosophers and statesmen? Shall we be told this in an age which still echoes the fearful words "Mortels! cessez de trembler devant les foudress impuissans d'un Dieu créé par vos terreurs,*-in an age which has seen the certain commentary on such a text, "Ce ne sont pas seulement les sciences, les arts consolateurs, les arts utils qui vont périr; ce sont les premiers liens de la société, les plus saintes affections qui sont rompus avec fureur. L'imagination ne peut concevoir une plus affreuse pensée qu'un tel peuple exercant ses fureurs au centres de l'Europe?" there no sound parallelism in the reasoning which would prove that the philosophy of Socrates comes home to our business and bosoms? The claim of Socrates to our admiration, respect and love forms a great body of evidence in itself, and is perfectly compatible with other evidence, in whatever form it be received; but certainly is most compatible with the acceptance of other evidence in the form in which it is most true, and in which ultimately it can be received with most sincerity. Here is something sounder in principle, feeling and conduct, than that cry of weakness and despair-"La nation reconnait l'existence de l'Etre Suprême et l'immortalité de l'âme"-that cry which came too late.* In an age which re-echoes those fearful words, and which has its own debt, deficit and droits de Seigneur, even if it had no We turn to the philosophy of Bacon, as other resemblance to the age of reason, are set forth by his reviewer, and we ask whethwe to be told that the philosophy of So-er the fruits of Bacon's physical science, crates has done its work? We look for *On what view of Christianity taken by the French church can such a system of Education, Piety and Policy be founded, as may be a guarantee for the peace of Europe and the world against the passions of that most excitable people? which we would in no wise deny or under- Not so with Socrates. In his life, and by his death, he exemplified the principles which he taught; principles which make individuals, families and states most happy; principles not to be taken upon trust, but requiring God's rational creatures to examine them, whether they are useful, pure and holy; and when this has been ascertained, requiring God's moral creatures to practise them, conscientiously, sincerely, truly. For Socrates points out distinctly that knowledge without practice is not knowledge; and that the philosopher is, not he who knows, but he who knows and does. LADY SALE'S JOURNAL. Journal of the Disasters in Afghanistan, 1841-2. By Lady Sale. Murray. From the Court Journal. THE excitement which has been caused by the announcement of this book, has been very great. The certainty felt by all who know any thing of the character of the writer, that she would speak out, has occasioned a singular sensation. The heroine, for such Lady Sale (despite her disclaimer of the title) has proved herself to be, has spoken out, and the demand for this volume will be proportioned to the freedom of her revelations and comments. The courtesy of Mr. Murray has put us in possession of the journal at a period, late indeed for perusal, -and too late for remark, were it desirable but early enough to enable us to lay before our readers a series of extracts which will stimulate rather than satiate their curiosity. Lady Sale writes (we speak ex cathedra, for we have read the volume from beginning to end) with simplicity and spirit. Had sound vigorous sense like hers been found in other heads, this journal would never have been written. She details the fight, the watch, the storm, the skirmish, the massacre, and the march, without a word of affectation, and, indeed, without a word to shw that she thinks she is telling any thing out of the common way. She narrates the energetic executions, and the melancholy fate of her gallant son-in-law, Captain Sturt, in a tone of admiring affection, but without a word of undue praise. The horrors of the dreadful retreat, told in Lady Sale's straightforward, unaffected style, exceed all ideas which have been formed from other recitals. But it is to the melancholy vacillation, the disgraceful ig norance, which led to all these scenes, that the attention of the English public--of Eng lish statesmen, will be drawn. We will not, by further remark, detain the reader from our extracts, Lady Sale states, in the "introduction" to her "Journal," *** I have not only daily noted down events as they occurred, but often have done so hourly. I have also given the reports of the day, the only information we possessed; also such news as was telegraphed from the Bala Hissar, or sent in by the King or by Capt. Conolly to the Envoy; and many other reports brought by Affghan gentlemen of Capt. Sturt's acquaintance, and by others of lower degree, who having had dealings with him in the engineer department and public works, and having received kindness from him, gave him such, in telligence and warning as was in their power: cult part to play, without sufficient moral couall of which he communicated [to his superior rage to stem the current singly. About two officers] at different times; but the warnings months since, Sir William wrote to Lord Auckwere not attended to; and as when he gave his land, explaining to him the present state of Affadvice it was seldom adhered to, he became dis- ghanistan, and requesting that five additional gusted, and contented himself with zealously regiments should be sent to this country, two of performing his duties and making himself gene- them to be European. To these statements a rally useful, acting the part of an artillery officer written war succeeded between the Envoy and as well as that of an engineer. Had poor Sturt's the Supreme Government of Bengal. Letter life been spared, it was his intention to have after letter came, calling for retrenchment. Sir worked up my Rough Notes, and to have added William had been appointed from home Govermuch valuable information; he was too much nor of Bombay, and was particularly chosen for overworked to afford leisure to give me assis- the office from his being a moderator, and a man tance at the time. His plans, drawings, &c., unlikely to push any violent measures. He hoped with his public and private papers, were lost, ex- affairs might take a turn for the better, and was cept a note or two that were, just a few days be- evidently anxious to leave Cabul, and assume fore we left Cabul, put with my Journal. I be- his new appointment. In an evil hour, he aclieve several people kept an account of these ceded to the entreaties of Sir Alexander Burnes, proceedings, but all except myself lost all they (who appears to have been blinded on the subhad written; and had recourse to memory after-ject,) and wrote to Lord Auckland to nullify his wards. I lost every thing except the clothes I former request for additional troops, and to say wore; and therefore it may appear strange that that part of those now in the country might be I should have saved these papers. The myste-withdrawn. The 1st brigade, under Sale, was ry is, however, easily solved. After every thing accordingly ordered to be in readiness to move was packed on the night before we left Cabul, I down; and it was generally understood that all sat up to add a few lines to the events of the would be withdrawn as soon as the Shah had day, and the next morning, I put them in a small raised five more regiments of his own. The letbag and tied them round my waist. ter of recall, as we may term Sir William's, was sent off only two days before the breaking out of the Zoormut affair. This is her account of the commencement of the revolt : In former times, under the feudal system. when the sovereign of Cabul required troops, each bold chieftain came forward with his retainers; but these vassals had been taken from them, and were embodied in corps commanded by British officers, to whom they owed no affection, and only paid a forced obedience, whilst their hearts were with their national religion; their chief's power was now greatly limited, and the chouk guaranteed to them was withheld on the plea that the Company had commanded retrenchments. But the saving required by Government was a curtailment of those expenses which were defrayed by its own rupees, whereas the 40,000 rupees now the subject of dispute were, in fact, no saving at all to us, as that money was never paid by the Company, but was the chouk or money excused to the chiefs out of the revenue or dues owing to the King, on condition of their enforcing the submission of the petty chiefs, and the payment of their rents. This sum, whether paid to Shah Shoojah or not, would never have replenished the Hon. Company's coffers; and by upholding the Shah in such an act of aggression we compromised our faith, and caused pretty general insurrection, said to be headed by Meer Musjude. The Envoy is thus spoken of: Again The state of supineness and fancied security of those in power in cantonments is the result of deference to the opinions of Lord Auckland, whose sovereign will and pleasure it is that tranquillity do reign in Affghanistan; in fact, it is reported at Government House, Calcutta, that the lawless Affghans are as peaceable as London citizens; and this being decided by the powers that be, why should we be on the alert? Most dutifully do we appear to shut our eyes on our probable fate. The Shah is, however, to be protected, whatever may be the fate of the English in the city; and Brig. Shelton is sent with the Shah's 6th, some of the 44th Queen's, and three horse artillery guns, under Capt. Nicholl, to the Bala Hissar. The King, as he well may be, is in great consternation. More to the same effect: No military steps have been taken to suppress the insurrection, nor even to protect our only means of subsistence (the Godowns), in the The King, Envoy, and Geneevent of a siege. ral, appear perfectly paralyzed by this sudden outbreak: the former is deserted by all his courtiers, and by even his most confidential servants, except the Wuzeer, who is strongly suspected of having instigated the conspiracy; and suspiLast year, when Sir Willoughby Cotton com- cion attaches to his majesty again. It is here manded, and during the disturbances in the Ko- necessary to observe, that several months ago histan, every despatch from Sale, who command-letters calling on all true Mussulmans to rise ed the troops there, was promulgated in orders, against the Kaffirs (English unbelievers) were and the present system of keeping information widely disseminated: they bore the King's sigclose is disgusting; there can be no secrets re-nature; but Sir William Macnaghten always garding what passes in action in the field. The general impression is that the Envoy is trying to deceive himself into an assurance that the country is in a quiescent state. He has a diffi insisted that they were forgeries of a very peculiar description, that papers bearing the veracious signature had had their contents washed out, and these seditious writings inserted. The |