When the young winter bound White chaplets on the front of day, And dead leaves danced on the crisp ground, One, in those parts well known, who led Did crave a shelter and a bed At a small farm by the road-side; . His way-worn limbs-happier on straw to lie, Long ere the dawn did break, When the first sleep of weariness Of that strange visitant upon his heart:- He did not sleep again; A little while, the flame burst forth, Consuming barn, live stock and grain At night was the Deserter seen Near to that spot, but, on the morn, And by a kinsman it was sworn Such proof of circumstance Convicted him; yet may we pause, No right to this man's life, that he must die? Albeit his guilt were proved, Ye had not proved his worthlessness! Could there be nought the Doom'd One loved, Of change within, no outward power Or, power that wanted will-to cope Till ye had proved no good could thence proceed, No more! the wretched strife Is ended; calmly he sleeps here; The wayward tenor of his life The impulses and agonies That make man's heart their tenement, Are unentreated deities. Mock not the uncondemning tear! Weigh in the balance this man's deeds and fate :-- It is an unhewn stone! Yon graven memories shall dissolve; Yon monuments be overthrown; The dust of its strong masonry: And future dreams and doubts involve:- Z. THE GREAT INJUSTICE. "How oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? "Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times; but, Until seventy times seven." Christian Scriptures. WHAT greater injustice is there than to afflict those, whose offences are not to be attributed to their own free agency, with unnecessary and arbitrary punishments, which neither correct the offender, nor remedy the offence, nor sow any seed of future benefit, either for the individual or the community? Our penal regulations are a stain upon the nation's heart. In a country professing a religion of Love, whose incessantly-uttered law is entire forgiveness and meekest sufferance of injuries, in a land where men believe that God has especially enjoined this forgiveness as the price of his favour, even here, in Christian England, in the plenitude of its bishop-ordered faith, some hundred-thousand of God's children pass annually through the prison doors of punishment for offences against their Christian brethren. Contrast this practical "Christianity" with the gentle doctrines of Christ! Compare even the pecuniary cost (about £250,000 a year) of the government-machinery for the eradication, or for the punishment, of crime with the paltry governmentallowance (£20,000 a year) for the prevention of crime, by the education of the community. It may be said, that the Church-Establishment, with the extravagant funds for its support, is a government-provision for the education of the community. How inadequate, even to teach religion, is evidenced by the Statistics of Punishment, an unanswerable commentary on the worth of that faith which our hired apostles impress upon the heart of society. Neither let it be forgotten, that excessive punishments are common for offences against the ministers of the Gospel-the employers of tithe-proctors, the promoters of vexatious suits for the most trivial breaches of a discipline which has neither worth nor order. Example is more followed than precept. Accordingly we find, that the uncharitable conduct of these teachers of charity has no small influence on the behaviour of the community. Of little avail is the weekly command of love and patience under injury, when the intolerance of the wrong-doer contravenes his own preaching. In all stations, under all circumstances, we behold the practice of punishment, not in accordance with nature's law, but proceeding on no principle, inconsequential, arbitrary, unequal, and commonly the occasion of greater evil than that which it revenges. Even children are capriciously punished for the very habits which the punishers had formed for them. Little is all this to be marvelled at among those who believe that the Supreme Beneficence punishes his creatures for obeying his predetermination, that the All-Wise punishes himself for having allowed them to obey him. For the believers in such a dogma what avails any argument? and, to those, who, having learned that no man creates himself, know that, therefore, he is not responsible for the results of his organization and circumstances, and that the evil therein is to be corrected, not punished by his fellows-to them what need we say more than this, BE CONSISTENT! Yet a few words to the holders of faith in the efficacy of penal laws, who think them worthy of support, albeit the legislature careth not to prevent their occasion. Though you advocate punishment, can you defend the inequality of punishment? Here is a child, who has stolen a turnip or a few potatoes to satisfy its hunger, punished with a month's imprisonment, sufficient foundation for a life's depravity-here is an uneducated child, one hardly capable of comprehending the complicated moralities of property, condemned to a miserable life for "stealing" a turnip while a man who has received a "best education," actually a legislator, is guilty of continual robbery in appropriating the earth, which God gave equally to all, for his private use, or abuse (hundreds of families starving in consequence of their dispossession), and he goes at large, unhanged, ay, unreproved. Here is a poor, untaught man heavily punished for perjury-while the rich man, the habitual liar; the lawyer, the liar by profession; he who lieth in the pulpit, blaspheming God with the insolence of his hypocrisy; and he who in the senate-house escheweth truth as inexpedient, and perjureth himself to a nation's injury; all go unquestioned, and applauded. Here is another poor wretch who in the brutality of ignorance insults a woman: he is fined, by partial "justice," to the amount of perhaps a month's earnings:-a "gentleman" commits the same offence, and is licensed to continue his amusement by payment of an hour's income; and the bestial libertine, who is a living insult to humanity, who dooms whole families to misery, laughs at Law and Justice, is courted by respectable society, and worthily companions, "right reverend fathers," perhaps is "reverend" himself. A man is hanged for committing an unpremeditated murder, notwithstanding, as Voltaire says, "the punishment of criminals should be of use; when a man is hanged he is good for nothing"; or, perhaps, he is hanged for merely endeavouring to conceal the homicide, not choosing to add self-murder: and the murderer of thousands, the designer and orderer of war, one most atrocious and infamous, who premeditatedly destroys life by wholesale to retain a place or a pension, receives, instead of punishment, immense reward, is honoured by the nation, styled heaven-born, assumes other titles of the Man of Peace, and, pompously parading through our Christian streets, or sitting in high places, with the decoration of honour, is not even pointed at, save as a mark for the idiot's admiration-" there goes the Duke of that's the"-MURDERER. How far shall we extend our list? It would embrace all the judgments of society. But one more instance. The worthlessness of royalty is supported by the tears and blood of millions, thousands of broken hearts are the cost of its vain existence; senatorial villainy, clerical irreligion, aristocratic idleness and depravity, and trading selfishness, are rewarded by wealth and honour:-while the sublime devotion of a godlike life to the service of humanity, earns but the recompense of heedlessness, neglect, contumely, and hatred, the continual trampling of scorn and implacable outrage, and an ignominious thrusting into the depths of despondency and dreariest despair, from whose abyss ariseth, appealing against man's ingratitude, the wailing of world-mocked agonies such as this: "Thousands pass away as nature gave them birth, in the corruption of sensual gratification, and they seek no more. "Tens of thousands are overwhelmed by the burdens of craft and trade; by the weight of the hammer, the ell, or the crown, and they seek no more. "But I know a man who did seek more; the joy of simplicity dwelt in his heart, and he had faith in mankind such as few men have; his soul was made for friendship, love was his element, and fidelity his strongest tie. "But he was not made by this world, nor for it; and wherever he was placed in it he was found unfit. "And the world that found him thus, asked not whether it was his fault or the fault of another; but it bruised him with an iron hammer, as the bricklayers break an old brick to fill up crevices. "But though bruised, he yet trusted in mankind more than in himself, and he proposed to himself a great purpose, which to attain he suffered agonies, and learned lessons such as few men had learned before him. "He could not, nor would he become generally useful; but for his purpose he was more useful than most men are for theirs, and he expected justice at the hands of mankind, whom he still loved with an innocent love. But he found none. Those that erected themselves into his judges, without further examination, confirmed the former sentence, that he was generally and absolutely useless. "This was the grain of sand which decided the doubtful balance of his wretched destinies. "He is no more; thou would'st know him no more; all that remains of him are the decayed remnants of his destroyed existence. "He fell as a fruit falls before it is ripe, whose blossom has been nipped by the northern gale, or whose corn is eaten out by the gnawing worm. Stranger that passest by, refuse not a tear of sympathy; even in falling this fruit turned itself towards the stem, on the branches of which it lingered through the summer, and it whispered to the tree 'Verily, even in my death I will nourish thy roots.' 66 Stranger that passest by, spare the perishing fruit, and allow the dust of its corruption to nourish the roots of the tree on whose branches it lived, sickened, and died."-Written by Pestalozzi, after his failure at Neuhof. REVELATIONS OF TRUTH. CHAP. XXIII. CHILD of Mortality, why mournest thou? thine eyes are dim, thine eyelids red and swollen with weeping. I saw the cheerful morn spring from the couch of night: O, how beautiful was the clear and tranquil brow, the light of the joy-diffusing smile!-False and fleeting was its promise: the clouds gathered o'er the sun, like the lowering frown of an angry man; the winds blew; the rains descended; the eye of heaven was veiled with tears; the joy of the morning was gone-and I wept. Child of Mortality, why mournest thou? I beheld the rose-bud in the freshness of its opening bloom; I watched its young leaves expanding to maturity; I inhaled the fragrance of its melodious breath; the air was filled with its sweetness; the gay butterfly wantoned on its bosom, enamoured of the delicate flower; the purity of Eternal Love seemed imaged in its graceful beauty:-I looked again-it was withered to the core; its leaves lay scattered upon the ground; the beautiful had been blighted, the lovely was no more. Child of Mortality, why mournest thou? I have seen Death with noiseless step gliding among the children of God: his flaming eyeballs glared fiercely upon them; and man withered beneath his scowl. I sought among the crowd for those who should be his first victims. : A bridal procession passed by the bride was young and lovely and most loving, the bridegroom happy;-Death looked upon the girl; she sank into his shadowy arms: her nuptial couch was spread within the sepulchre. One, in the vigour of manhood, in the pride of health and intellect, stood upon his hearth, surrounded by his family; his children clung around his knees; his wife hung fondly upon his neck; there was a glory about the group, the radiance of unfearing happiness:-But the eye of the spoiler was upon him; he bowed his head, unable to endure that dreadful gaze; the matron, the infants, embraced a corse. I saw another, young, but wasted by toil, ascending with great difficulty a steep and rugged mountain: his wan and haggard cheek betrayed the restless workings of an impassioned soul; Genius was engraven upon his lofty brow, and sparkling in his deep-seated and dilated eye: he neared the summit of the mountain; another step, and the goal would be attained. The lightning flashed from the eyes of Death athwart the brow of the climber: he lieth at the foot of that mountain. Have I not cause for sorrow? but there is yet a deeper and a keener grief. There are clouds which o'ershadow the light of Truth: and the soul of man dreameth painfully in the shade. The Beautiful languisheth in the mid-noon of enjoyment; the Lovely fadeth upon the fervent heart; the fragrance of an enduring memory alone abideth with the Desolate. |