In a like spirit, another clerical novelist, of a more recent type, and whose distinctive evangel is Muscular Christianity, introduces a "double-first" candidate for orders who reminds him of Mr. Bye-Ends in Bunyan: "And yet," comes the charitable clause conditional, "I believe the man was really in earnest. He was really desirous to do what was right, as far as he knew it; and all the more desirous, because he saw, in the present state of society, what was right would pay him. God shall judge him, not I. Who can unravel the confusion of mingled selfishness and devotion that exist even in his own heart, much less in that of another ? "

In Mr. Thackeray's instance, exception has been taken, on ethical grounds, by no vulgar critic, to his habit of shrinking from moral estimate as well as moral judgment, in dealing with his characters. Into that distinction not without a difference, this is not the place (nor this the pen) to enter. But the critic in question-for some years a main support of the National Review-recognises this avoidance of moral judgment as springing from kindly feeling, from the just and humble sense we all should have that our own demerits make it unseemly for us to ascend the judgment-chair, and from a wide appreciation of the variety and obscurity of men's real motives of action.*

WE

PART KNOWLEDGE.

I CORINTHIANS xiii. 9.

E know in part," said the apostle; who, therefore, prophesied in part; always with the assurance that when that which is perfect is come, then shall that which is in part be done away. Meanwhile, we see through a glass darkly; through a medium obscurely-"now I know in part."

*The avoidance of moral estimate, on the other hand, is imputed to an insufficient sense of the duty incumbent on all of us to form determinate estimates of men and actions, if only as bearing on our own conduct in life. (See "W. C. Roscoe's Essays," vol. ii., p. 308.)

If so it was with him that once was caught up into the third heavens, much more with his readers. For we are but of yesterday, and know nothing. "Behold, God is great, and we know Him not." At the height of our knowledge we can but fall back upon the old saying, "Lo, these are parts of His ways; but how little a portion is heard of Him!" And when we consider the heavens, the work of His hands; the moon and the stars, which He hath ordained; the earth beneath, the ocean round about, the waters under the earth, the pent-up fires within it,-verily He is a God that hideth Himself still, and that revealeth but a portion of His work, clouds and darkness covering the rest. His thoughts are very deep; and what is man that he should know them, or the son of man that he should find them out unto perfection? From the topmost pinnacles attained by science he can see but the utmost part of them, and cannot see them all.

Locke argues the intellectual and sensible world to be in this perfectly alike: that the part which we see of them holds no proportion with what we see not; and that whatsoever we can reach with our eyes, or our thoughts, of either of them, is but a point, almost nothing, in comparison with the rest. Shall he whose birth, maturity, and age, as Beattie has it, scarce fill the circle of one summer day-shall the poor gnat conclude nature in collapse because of a passing cloud, not transparent to the insect's vision?

"One part, one little part, we dimly scan

Through the dark medium of life's feverish dream;
Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan,

If but that little part incongruous seem.

Nor is that part perhaps what mortals deem ;

Oft from apparent ill our blessings rise.

Oh then renounce that impious self-esteem,

That aims to trace the secrets of the skies;

For thou art but of dust: be humble and be wise."

Freethinking Lord Shaftesbury begins a section of his "Characteristics" with the remark, that when we reflect on any ordinary frame or constitution, either of art or nature, and consider how hard it is to give the least account of a particular

part without a competent knowledge of the whole, we need not wonder to find ourselves at a loss in many things relating to the constitution and frame of the universe. Elsewhere he suggestively observes, that in an infinity of things mutually relative, a mind which sees not infinitely, can see nothing fully; "and since each particular has relation to all in general, it can know no perfect or true relation of anything in a world not perfectly and fully known." And supposing the case of an ignorant landsman presuming to question the details of a ship's rigging, his lordship breaks out into the apostrophe, "O my friend, let us not thus betray our ignorance, but consider where we are, and in what a universe. Think of the many parts of the vast machine in which we have so little insight, and of which it is impossible we should know the ends and uses; when instead of seeing to the highest pennons, we see only some lower deck, and are in this dark case of flesh, confined even to the hold and meanest station of the vessel." There is Mrs. Browning's usual energy of diction in the exclamation,

"Ay, we are forced, so pent,

To judge the whole too partially, confound
Conclusions. Is there any common phrase
Significant, when the adverb's heard alone,
The verb being absent, and the pronoun out?

But we, distracted in the roar of life,

Still insolently at God's adverb snatch,

And bruit against Him that His thought is void,
His meaning hopeless."

The same good Providence, as Madame de Sévigné writes, that governs all, shall one day unravel all; we poor mortals being, in the meanwhile, so many all but stone-blind and utterly ignorant lookers-on. We suffer, as the author of "Thorndale says there is no doubt about that-and we naturally speak and think under the sharp pang of our present agony; but the ultimate and overruling judgment which we form of human life, should be taken from some calm, impersonal point of view. "We should command the widest horizon possible. Of the great whole of humanity we see but a little at a time. We pause sometimes on the lights only of the picture, some

times only on the shadows. How very dark those shadows seem! Yet if we could embrace in our view the whole of the picture, perhaps the very darkest shadows might be recognised as effective or inevitable portions of a grand harmonious whole." How closes Thomson his poem of "The Seasons," drear Winter then his cue?-with the memorable lines:

"Ye good distress'd !

Ye noble few! who here unbending stand
Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up awhile;
And what your bounded view, which only saw
A little part, deemed evil, is no more :
The storms of wintry time will quickly pass,
And one unbounded spring encircle all."

For

The theme of our part knowledge, so strictly cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, is one to which Thomson repeatedly recurs. instance, in an earlier book :

"But here the cloud,

So wills Eternal Providence, sits deep.
Enough for us to know that this dark state,
In wayward passions lost, and vain pursuits,
This infancy of being, cannot prove
The final issue of the works of God,

By boundless love and perfect wisdom form'd

And ever rising with the rising mind."

Again, with emphasis and discretion (as Polonius says), he puts the query—

"Shall little haughty ignorance pronounce

His works unwise, of which the smallest part
Exceeds the narrow vision of her mind?
As if upon a full proportioned dome,
On swelling columns heaved, the pride of art,
A critic-fly, whose feeble ray scarce spreads
An inch around, with blind presumption bold,
Should dare to tax the structure of the whole."

Horace Walpole makes use of a similar figure in one of his three or four thousand published letters: "We are poor silly animals: we live for an instant upon a particle of a boundless universe, and are much like a butterfly that should argue

about the nature of the seasons, and what creates their vicissitudes, and does not exist itself to see one annual revolution of them."

"Earth's number-scale is near us set;

The total God alone can see;

But each some fraction."*

Addison, in one of his essays, comments on the body of an animal as an object comparatively adequate to our senses, it being a particular part of Providence that lies within a narrow compass, so that the eye is able to command it, and by successive inquiries to search into all its parts. Could the body of the whole earth, he goes on to say, or indeed the whole universe, be thus subjected to the examination of our senses, were it not too big and disproportioned for our inquiries, too unwieldy for the management of the eye and hand, "there is no question but it would appear to us as curious and well-contrived a frame as that of a human body. We should see the same concatenation and subserviency, the same necessity and usefulness, the same beauty and harmony, in all and every of its parts, as what we discover in the body of every single animal." To adopt an illustration of Fénélon's to the same purpose: imagine the letters of a sentence to be so enormous in size, that a man could only make out one of them at a time; in that case he could not read, that is, collect the letters together and discover the sense of them in combination. So it is, argues the benign prelate, with the grands traits of Providence in the conduct of the world at large during the lapse of centuries. It is only the whole that is intelligible, and the whole is too vast to be scrutinised near at hand. Each event in the process of ages is like a separate letter or sign, which is too large for our petty organs, and which is without a meaning when taken apart from the rest. A more vigorous philosopher than the gentle Fénélon compares the universe to a picture, the beauty of which is then alone perceptible when the true stand-point of perspective is taken. There are certain inventions in perspective, or certain

* Owen Meredith: "The Artist."