DURING the days of agitation which followed the revolution of February, 1848, at Paris, large crowds assembled every evening on different parts of the Boulevards, sometimes tumultuous and disorderly, sometimes in dense masses, in the midst of which divers orators were discoursing upon many different subjects.

Questions on politics, the state of society, and religion, were brought forward, and freely discussed; sometimes well, sometimes ill, according as the speaker was either a friend of truth, or a defender of error.

Inquisitive by nature, and desirous of observing more closely this excited people,-anxious also to scatter amongst them a few salutary truths,-I mingled each night with the crowd, often listening, sometimes speaking, and always deeply interested.

One evening, about half-past eight o'clock, a numerous group had formed not far from where I was; and I imagined, from the eagerness of the listeners, as well as from their deep silence, that some one of more than usual ability was addressing them, or that the subject discussed was of universal interest.

"Let me get amongst them," thought I; and by stooping and pushing I succeeded in introducing myself into the midst of the crowd. To my great surprise, the question under consideration was this:-"Is man naturally good, or, is he by nature evil?"

Two men were arguing on this subject. The one, tolerably eloquent and seemingly sure of his ground, was a young man, well dressed, trying, but somewhat unsuccessfully, to render himself popular. The other was a working man, young, uneducated, but earnest, slow of speech, and rendered timid by the manner and fine words of his antagonist.

But," the workman was saying, "if you deny that man is ruined, wicked, you overturn all religion."

"Well," replied the other, " and what of that? Religion is mistaken, that is all. When I see people great, generous, magnanimous, as I have seen them, I will never consent to lower them, and degrade them in their own eyes, by telling them that they are naturally wicked."

It was now my turn to speak. said I aloud; "man is not good." Every one turned towards me.

"The workman is right,"

"Ah, ah," said the orator, with an air of self-importance, "doubtless this gentleman is very religious, that is why-"

"To show that you are mistaken," I replied, "it is not necessary to be very religious as you say; to make use of one's eyes, and to tell what one sees, is all that is needed."

"But," said the other, "I open my eyes, and very wide too, without seeing as you do." He tried to joke, but it was evident that the seriousness of my remark had annoyed him. I resumed, "You are, perhaps, blind, and what is worse, unconscious of it. If you will listen to me, I will show to all around me, as clear as daylight, what you have not yet perceived." "Go on! go on!" cried fifty voices. There was dead silence, and I was pushed into the middle of the crowd.

"My friends," I began, "my discourse need not be a long one if you will reflect a little; if you will look, as we were saying just now, with the eyes of your mind. Whence comes it, that as far as we can go back in history we find, even down to the present time, nothing but continual wars and quarrels between nations, peoples, and individuals; so much so, that no sooner were there two brothers, than the one became the murderer of the other? Does this prove that man is good?

"Whence comes it, that for many generations, and even at this day, one half of the human race is enslaved, treated as cattle, sold, and kept in the grossest ignorance, degradation, and brutishness, by the other half? Does this prove the goodness of man?

"Whence comes it, that from the very commencement of social intercourse, the rich, or the strong, or the clever, have tried to subdue the rest, and have always found some amongst them to approve and flatter? Does this prove that man is good?

"Whence comes it, that the inhabitants of the same country, the citizens of the same town, the members of the same family, opposed to each other in interests and in ambition, despise, injure, and even kill one another, if they have the opportunity? Does this proceed from the goodness of man?

"Whence comes it, that in all ages, in all countries, in the north, in the south, in the east, in the west, under every possible form of government, there are laws to punish evil doers, soldiers to make war, police and constables to arrest the guilty, judges to condemn them, prisons and hulks in which to confine them, and often even hangmen to execute them? Does all this prove that man is good?

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Imagine for a moment what the world would be, if suddenly we were to act as if man were good: no more soldiers to defend

the frontiers; no more police, or judges, or courts of law, or prisons: were we to leave open the doors of our houses; were the buyer to pay no attention to weights or measures; the merchant to take no account of his money; every one's word to be believed; in short, were we to entrust one to the other, fortune, honour, family, life. · Ah!' you say,

'if it could be thus.'

"Well, it could be, it ought to be so, if men were all good. But, as they are, if such a state of things could be for only four and twenty hours, what a fearful scene of disorder should we behold! There would be in one day a greater amount of crime, more murders, thefts, and frauds, than in a whole century before. None will contradict this: and does all I have said prove the goodness of man? And, my friends, I beg you will especially observe that I have spoken only of externals— of what is seen, of the outside. Man has hardly appeared good, even judging by the surface. What would he appear, could we see into his heart? And think you that evil hidden, thought of, or desired, is less real than open or accomplished evil? Indeed, it is not so. Suppose a man who has never stolen a pin; but he has said to himself twenty times, ‘If I had a good opportunity of stealing a hundred thousand francs, I would do it.' That man is a thief. Suppose another, who has never injured a creature, but he feels a deep hatred towards his fellow-men, and burns with a desire for vengeance: but he fears the law, the prison, the scaffold. That man is a murderer. Another has never known intemperance or disorder; means or opportunity was wanting; but he regrets it, and envies those who can wallow in the mire. That man is intemperate. And so of the rest. In short, however bad the outside may be, the inside is far worse. The heart is the poisonous. spring, from whence flow, as opportunities offer, all evils, wicked thoughts, murders, adulteries, impurities, thefts, false witnesses, &c. Notice again, my friends, that I speak of all men, and that I maintain with regard to each individual, without excepting one, that he is naturally evil; that each one, more or less, has given up his heart to pride, ambition, hatred, the love of sinful pleasures and riches, to lying and self-seeking. Consequently, it is unnecessary to search through the world, or the prisons, or to descend into the very dregs of society for the proof of all I have said. You who are listening to me, you can find it within yourselves, as I have found it within myself. Let us look now within ourselves, to the bottom of our hearts; What do we find? Which of you has never felt the risings of sinful passion? of anger, hatred, or

lust? Which of you has not yielded to the temptation? You, who but just now maintained that man is good; did you speak from experience ? Are you only of all the world exempt from evil? And amongst you all, my friends, is there one who would dare to exclaim, I am good'? You are silent; or rather, your conscience tells you, with mine, 'I know not if there exist on earth a truly good man, but at all events it is not I.' After that, is it not deplorable to hear repeated every day, at every turn-in newspapers, in books, in public lectures, that the natural state of man is all that is right, and beautiful, and good? If those who say so believe it, they are fools and blind; if they do not believe it, they are miserable flatterers, and sacrificers of truth to their own fears or ambition." I finished with these words, and my opponent began :—

"No one denies," said he, " that there is a large amount of evil in the world; but whose fault is it? the fault of man? of an individual? No; it is the fault of society."

Thereupon he drew a pretty correct picture of the defects in our social organization; of the inequalities, miseries, and vices which it engenders; and finally, with an air of triumph, exclaimed, “Do not, then, accuse man, when the fault lies with society!"

"But," I resumed, "take care what you say; have you ever thought what society is? Let us examine, if you please; what is this society upon which you throw the blame of man's corruption ? Tell me, I pray, Has society a conscience? does society do anything? believe anything? Is it an individual ? Say."

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Society," he said, "Society is-"

Do

"Come, let us see; you seem very much embarrassed. you not perceive that society is everybody, or it is nobody? It is you, it is I, it is all of us. When you say, 'Society is bad;' you accuse yourself, you accuse me, you accuse all: and if you say, 'Society corrupts man;' I ask you, 'Who corrupts society?' You show me a regiment of soldiers, and you say it is a cowardly regiment; I conclude immediately, that the soldiers of which it is composed are cowards. Change the men-not the arms or the uniform-and the regiment will be changed. Thus you say of society it is bad; consequently I imagine that those who compose society are good for nothing. Cease, then, to accuse an imaginary being-a phantom, to which you give the name of society; say that men are vicious, and will you the truth; accuse them, and accuse them strongly; publish all their vices, and preach to all, that they need a complete change, and we shall be of one mind, and I will join with you in favour

say

of a total revolution-a revolution deep and radical, and fruitful in beneficial results,-the spiritual and moral regeneration of individuals."

"You perplex me," said my adversary, "with your distinctions between man and society; but, however it may be, everyone will grant that education, instruction, and example, tend to make man wicked, but that at heart he is good."

I

"I understand you," I replied; 66 you mean that the lessons of evil and corruption, which are transmitted from one generation to the next, induce men to imitate their predecessors. grant it. But think you that bad example and education would have that effect on us, if we were not by nature inclined to evil? Suppose a sober man, one who respects himself,—would the sight of drunkenness, and the pressing invitations of the drunken, induce him to imitate them? On the contrary; virtue abhors vice; purity detests impurity; and the first impulse of a man not inclined to evil, would be, if evil were presented to him by word or example, to fly from it with abhorrence. Far from doing so, we yield to the first word, the first solicitation, which is a manifest proof that we are naturally inclined to it. The example of others, and the education we receive, are but as the passport, and the protector, by whose favour the natural vice of man introduces itself, and makes its way in the world. Education! Example! Just think of it! We receive them from our fathers, they from theirs, and those again from preceding generations. Go back still further; we must at last arrive at the first who gave to their children bad education and example; and those,—the first,who perverted them? Those who received only good themselves, how could they transmit evil? We can only say that they freely and voluntarily chose it. They were good; they became evil by their own act, and they left us, as our inheritance, not only their teaching and their example, but their nature also, by which we become evil like them."

Here a voice in the crowd exclaimed, "God made us so, therefore the fault is His !"

"Very well; you, who say

that God made us thus, that the fault of our wickedness lies with Him, answer me, I pray you; you believe in God, since you speak of him.

God a perfect, just, and holy Being?"

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Certainly."

Is not

"And do you think that the hands of a perfect workman can produce an imperfect work?”

"It would appear not.”

"Then here is your only choice: either man is not wicked,

THE ENGLISH MONTHLY TRACT SOCIETY, 27, RED LION SQUARE LONDON.