MR. BUCKLE ON THE SCOTCH INTELLECT.

The second volume of Mr Buckle's "History of Civilisation," has just been published. Five of the six chapters, and four hundred and fifty of the five hundred pages which compose the volume, are occupied with the affairs of Scotland. The exceptional chapter is the first, which is devoted to Spain, as an illustration of certain propositions laid down in the preceding volume. Mr Buckle, in the 2nd Chapter, begins an examination of the " Condition of Scotland to the end of the Fourteenth Century," by stating that while "Scotland and Spain are very dissimilar in regard to loyally, they are very similar in regard to superstition," and he maintains that the Scotch unite "liberality in politics with illiberality in religion," is "the largest and most important fact in their history," to investigating the causes of which the rest of the volume is devoted. Chapter 4 is occupied with a description of the " Condition of Scotland during the seventeenth and eighteen centuries." Chapters 5 and 6 with "An Examination of the Scotch Intellect during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries."

To-day we can only, without note or comment, give a few passages from Mr Buckle's concluding pages :—

" I have now completed my examination of the Scotch intellect as it unfolded itself in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The difference between those two periods must strike every reader. In the seventeenth century, the ablest Scotchmen wasted their energies on theological subjects, respecting which we have no trustworthy information, and no means of obtaining any. On these topics, different persons and different nations, equally competent, have entertained, and still entertain, the most different opinions, which they advocate with the greatest confidence, and support by arguments, perfectly satisfactory to themselves, but contemptuously rejected by their opponents. Each side deeming itself in possession of the truth, the impartial inquirer, that is, he who really loves truth, and knows how difficult it is to obtain it, seeks for some means by which he may fairly adjudicate between these conflicting pretensions, and determine which is right and which is wrong. The further he searches, the more he becomes convinced that no such means are to be found, and that these questions, if they do not transcend the limits of the human understanding, do, certainly, transcend its present resources, and have no chance of being answered, while other and much simpler problems are still unsolved. It would be strange, indeed, if we, ignorant of so many lower and subordinate matters, should be able to reach and penetrate these remote and complicated mysteries. It would be strange if we, who, notwithstanding the advances we have made, are still in the infancy of our career, and who, like infants, can only walk with unsteady gait, and are scarce able to move without stumbling, even on plain and level ground, should, natheless, succeed in scaling those dizzy heights, which, overhanging our path, lure us on where we are sure to fall. Unfortunately, however, men are in every age so little conscious of their deficiencies that they not only attempt this impossible task, but believe they have achieved it. Of those who are a prey to this delusion, there are always a certain number, who, seated on their imaginary eminence, are so inflated by the fancied superiority as to undertake to instruct, to warn, and to rebuke the rest of mankind. Giving themselves out as spiritual advisers, and professing to teach what they have not yet learned, they exhibit in their own persons that most consistent of all combinations, a combination of great ignorance with great arrogance. From this, other evils inevitably follow. The ignorance produces superstition; the arrogance produces tyranny. Hence it is that, in a country like Scotland, where the pressure of long-continued and adverse circumstances has consolidated the power of these pretenders to wisdom, such sad results become conspicuous in every direction. Not only the national character, but also the national literature, feel their influence, and are colored by them. It was, therefore, natural that, in Scotland, in the seventeenth century, when the authority of the clergy was most uncontrolled, the consequences of that authority should be most apparent. It was natural that a literature should be created such as that of which I have given some account ; a literature which encouraged superstition, intolerance, and bigotry; a literature full of dark misgivings, and of still darker threats; a literature which taught men that it was wrong to enjoy the present, and that it was right to tremble at the future; a literature, in a word, which, spreading gloom on every side, soured the temper, corrupted the affections, numbed the intellect, and brought into complete discredit those bold and original inquiries, without which there can be no advance in human knowledge, and consequently no increase of human happiness.

"To this, the literature of the eighteenth century offered a striking and most exhilarating contrast. It seemed as if, in a moment all was changed. The Baillies, the Binnings, the Dicksons, the Durhams, the Flemings, the Frasers, the Gillespies, the Guthries, the Halyburtons, the Hendersons, the Rutherfords, and the rest of that monkish rabble, were succeeded by eminent and enterprising thinkers, whose genius lighted up every department of knowledge, and whose minds, fresh and vigorous as the morning, opened for themselves a new career, and secured for their country a high place in the annals of European intellect. Something of what they effected, I have endeavored to narrate; much, however, has been left untold. But I have brought forward sufficient evidence to convince even the most sceptical reader of the splendour of their achievements and of the difference between the noble literature which they produced, and those wretched compositions which disfigured the preceding century.

" Still, great as the difference was, the two literatures had, as I have shown, one important point in common. Both were essentially deductive; and the proof of this I have given at considerable length, because, though it has, so far as I am aware, escaped the attention of all previous inquirers, its consequences were of the utmost moment to the fortunes of Scotland, and are, moreover, full of interest to those who, in their investigations of human affairs, desire to penetrate below the mere surface and symptoms of things. . . .

"From the facts and arguments contained in this and the preceding chapter, the reader will, I trust, be able to see why it was that the Scotch intellect, during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, was pre-eminently deductive; and also why it was that, in the eighteenth century, the Scotch literature, notwithstanding its brilliancy, its power, and the splendid discoveries of which it was the vehicle, produced little or no effect on the nation at large. That literature by its bold and innovating character, seemed peculiarly fitted to disturb ancient prejudices, and to rouse up a spirit of inquiry. But its method, both of investigation and of proof, was too refined to suit ordinary understandings. Therefore, upon ordinary understandings it was inoperative. In Scotland as in ancient Greece, and in modern Germany, the intellectual classes, being essentially deductive, have been unable to influence the main body of the people. They have considered things at too great an altitude, and at too great a remove. In Greece Aristotle alone had a true idea of what induction really was. But even he knew nothing of crucial instances and the theory of averages, the two capital resources of that inductive philosophy which we now possess. Neither did he, nor any of the great German philosophers, nor any of the great Scotch philosophers, attach sufficient importance to the slow and cautious method of gradually rising from each generalisation to the one immediately above it, without omitting any intermediate generalisation. On this method, Bacon, insists too strongly, since many most important discoveries have been made independently of it, or I should rather say, in contradiction to it. But it is a wonderful weapon, and none except men of real genius can dispense with its use. And when they do dispense with it, they cut themselves off from the general sympathies of their age and country. For, these small and proximate generalisations, which they neglect, are precisely those parts of philosophy which, being least removed from the region of visible facts, are best understood by the people, and therefore form the only common ground between thinkers and practitioners. They are a sort of middle term, which, being comprehended by both classes, is accessible to either. In all deductive reasoning, this intermediate and, if I may so say, neutral territory disappears, and the two classes have no meeting-place. Hence it is, that the Scotch philosophy, like the German philosophy, and like the Greek philosophy, has had no national influence. But in England, since the seventeenth century, and in France, since the eighteenth century, the prevailing philosophy has been inactive, and has, therefore, not only affected the intellectual classes, but also moved the public mind. The German philosophers are far superior, both in depth and in comprehensiveness, to the philosophers either of France or of England. Their profound researches have, however, done so little for their country, that the German people are every way inferior to the French and English people. So, too, in the philosophy of ancient Greece, we find a vast body of massive and original thought, and, what is infinitely better, we find a boldness of inquiry and a passionate love of truth such as no modern nation has surpassed, and few modern nations have equalled. But the method of that philosophy was an insuperable barrier to its propagation. The people were untouched, and went grovelling on in their old folly, a prey to superstitions most of which the great thinkers despised, and often attacked, but could by no means root out. Bad, however, as those superstitions were, we may confidently say that they were less noxious, that is, less detrimental to the happiness of man, than the repulsive and horrible notions advocated by the Scotch clergy, and sanctioned by the Scotch people. And on those notions the Scotch philosophy could make no impression. In Scotland, during the eighteenth century, superstition and science, the most irreconcilable of all enemies, flourished side by side, unable to weaken each other, and unable, indeed, to come into collision with each other. There was co-existence without contact. The two forces kept apart, and the result was, that while the Scotch thinkers were creating a noble and most enlightened literature, the Scotch people, refusing to listen to those great masters of wisdom which their country possessed, remained in darkness, leaving the blind to follow the blind, and no one there to help them.

" It is, indeed, curious to observe how little effect was produced by the many great works written by Scotchmen in the eighteenth century. If we except the ' Wealth of Nations,' I can hardly call to mind one which has perceptibly influenced public opinion. The reason of this exception may be easily explained. The 'Wealth of Nations' restricted the action of Government within narrower limits than had ever been assigned to it by any other book of great merit. No previous political writer of admitted genius had left so much to the people and had demanded for them so much liberty in managing their own affairs as Adam Smith did. The 'Wealth of Nations' being thus eminently a democratic book, was sure to find favor in Scotland which was eminently a democratic country. Directly men heard its conclusions, they were prejudiced in favor of its arguments. So, too, in England, that love of liberty which for many centuries has been our leading characteristic, and which does us more real honor than all our conquests, all our literature, and all our philosophy put together, invariably causes a popular bias on behalf of any claim to freedom. We therefore, notwithstanding the activity of interested parties, were predisposed to the side of free trade, as one of the means of letting each man do what he liked with his own. But to imagine that ordinary minds are capable of mastering such a work as the 'Wealth of Nations,' and of following without confusion its long and intricate arguments, is simply absurd. It has been read by tens of thousands of persons, who accept its conclusions because they like them: which is merely saying, because the movement of the age tends that way. The other great work of Adam Smith, namely the ' Theory of Moral Sentiments,' has had no influence except on a very small class of metaphysicians, although its style is, as some think, superior to the 'Wealth of Nations,' and it is certainly easier to understand. It is moreover, much shorter, which, to most readers is no small recommendation; and it deals with subjects of great interest, which come home to the feelings of But the age, not caring for its conclusions, neglected its arguments. On the other hand, the 'Wealth of Nations" harmonised with the general tendency, and its success was supreme. It quickly moved not only philosophers, but even statesmen and politicians, who eventually put into force its leading recommendations, though, as their laws and and their speeches abundantly prove, they have never succeeded in mastering those great principles which underlie it, and of which the freedom of trade is but a minor accessory.

"Putting aside the 'Wealth of Nations,' we shall find that the Scotch literature of the eighteenth century did scarcely anything for Scotland, considered as a whole. How it has failed in its great aim of weakening superstition, is but too apparent to whoever has travelled in that country and observed the habits and turn of mind still predominant. Many able and enlightened men who live there are so cowed by the general spirit, that, for their own comfort, and for the peace of their families, they make no resistance, but tacitly comply with what they heartily despise. That they err in doing so, I, at least, firmly believe, though I know that many honest, and in every respect competent, judges are of opinion, that no man is bound to be a martyr, or to jeopardise his personal interests, unless he clearly sees his way to some immediate public good. To me, however, it appears that this is a narrow view, and that the first duty of any is to set his face in direct opposition to what he believes to be false, and having done that, leave the results of his conduct to take care of themselves. Still, the temptation to a contrary course is always very strong, and, in a country like Scotland, is by many deemed irresistible. In no other Protestant nation, and, indeed, in no Catholic nation except Spain, will a man who is known to hold unorthodox opinions find his life equally uncomfortable. In a few of the large towns he may possibly escape animadversion, if his sentiments are not too bold, and are not too openly expressed. If he is timid and taciturn, his heresy, may, perchance, be overlooked. But even in large towns, impunity is the exception and not the rule. Even in the capital of Scotland, in that centre of intelligence which once boasted of being the Modern Athens, a whisper will quickly circulate that such an one is to be avoided, for that he is a free thinker; as if free thinking were a crime, or as if it were not better to be a free-thinker than a slavish-thinker. In other parts, that is, in Scotland generally, the state of things is far worse. I speak, not on vague rumor, but from what I know as existing at the present time, and for the accuracy of which I vouch and hold myself responsible. I challenge any one to contradict my assertion, when I say that, at this moment nearly all over Scotland, the finger of scorn is pointed at every man, who, in the exercise of his sacred and inalienable right of free judgment, refuses to acquiesce in those religious notions, and to practise those religious customs, which time, indeed, has consecrated, but many of which are repulsive to the eye of reason, though to all of them, however irrational they may be, the people adhere with sullen and inflexible obstinacy. Knowing that those words will be widely read and circulated in Scotland, and averse as I naturally am to bring on myself the hostility of a nation, for whose many sterling and valuable qualities I entertain sincere respect, I do nevertheless deliberately affirm, that in no civilised country is toleration so little understood, and that in none is the spirit of bigotry and of persecution so extensively diffused. Nor can any one wonder in such should be the case, who observes what is going on there. The churches are as crowded as they were in the Middle Ages, and are filled with devout and ignorant worshippers, who flock together to listen to opinions of which the Middle Ages alone were worthy. Those opinions they treasure up, and when they return to their homes, or enter into the daily business of life, they put them in force. And the result is, that there runs through the entire country a sour and fanatical spirit, an aversion to innocent gaiety, a disposition to limit the enjoyments of others, and a love of enquiring into the opinions of others, and of interfering with them, such as is hardly anywhere else to be found; while in the midst of all this, there flourishes a national creed, gloomy and austere to the last degree, a creed which is full of forebodings and threats and horrors of every sort, and which rejoices in proclaiming to mankind how wretched and miserable they are, how small a portion of them can be saved, and what an overwhelming majority is necessary reserved for excruciating, unspeakable, and eternal agony."

Star (Ballarat, Vic. : 1855 - 1864), Wednesday 31 July 1861, page 2