- Some of them as a guard against the violent assaults of others, and in our own defence; some in behalf of others, and all of them to put us upon, and help to carry us through, a course of behaviour suitable to our condition.
For —
- As God Almighty foresaw the irregularities and disorders, both natural and moral, which would happen in this state of things, he hath graciously made some provision against them, by giving us several passions and affections, which arise from, or whose objects are, those disorders. Of this sort are fear, resentment, compassion, and others, of which there could be no occasion or use in a perfect state, but in the present we should be exposed to greater inconveniences without them, though there are very considerable ones which they themselves are the occasion of.
This is Butler's natural history of the origin of our principles of action. I take leave to say that it is not based on observation and experiment. It is not physiology, but fanciful hypothesis. Therefore it is not Newtonian, for Newton said, "Hypotheses non fingo." And a man, in a time of great doubt and unsettlement, finding many things fail him which have been confidently pressed on his acceptance, looking earnestly for something which he feels he can really go upon, and which will prove to him a sure stay, and coming to Butler because he hears that in the ethical discussions of his sermons Butler supplies, as Mackintosh says, "truths more satisfactorily established by him, and more worthy of the name of discovery, than perhaps any with which we are acquainted," such a man, I think, cannot but be disconcerted and impatient to find that Butler's ethics involve an immense hypothesis to start with, as to the origin and final causes of all our passions and affections.
And disconcerted and impatient, I am afraid, we must for the present leave him.
THE DILEMMA.
CHAPTER L.
Fred's visit to "The Beeches" came to an end next day. Yorke went with him as far as London, to look out for a second horse, it being arranged that he should return the following morning in time to accompany Miss Cathy to the meet. Even if he could not procure a horse in the time, Jumping Joseph at any rate would be available, that useful animal having had but an easy day's work on the last occasion. Yorke wanted to find a groom also, for although there were plenty of spare men in Mr. Peevor's statues, the horses there never got thoroughly groomed; but as regards feeding, that gentleman had so frequently adverted to the fact of there being plenty of forage available, that Yorke felt that there would be no chance of being allowed to pay his own corn-bill. In truth he was now established on the footing of a family friend. Mr. Peevor enlarged on the obligation conferred on them by his stay, and on his kindness in accompanying Miss Cathy out hunting; with such an escort he no longer felt nervous about his daughter going out, Mr. Peevor being apparently under the impression that the proximity of another rider was a guarantee against falls. Yorke, for his part, felt that his visit, if prolonged much longer, must needs have a critical issue; but although his pulse did not rise higher at the prospect, he was nothing loath to let matters take their course as chance might dictate. He felt more interested in Lucy than a few days ago he could have believed it possible to be about any woman again, although not clear as yet whether he was in love with her; and he was still in doubt about the state of her feelings for him, and whether the little demonstrations in his favour which he could not but observe were spontaneous tributes to his effect on her, or parts of a design. This doubt perhaps rendered him less eager than he might otherwise have been; but if he could be sure that she really cared for him, why then ——
The first-class passengers in the down train on the morning of Yorke's return to "The Beeches" were for the most part hunting men, bound to the next station beyond Hamwell, several horse-boxes bringing up the rear; but one occupant of Yorke's compartment was evidently not bent on the chase — a middle-aged man with square face and figure and short stubby hair, who wore black trousers and a white waistcoat, notwithstanding the season of the year. This traveller was attended to his carriage by a gentlemanly-looking person, bearing a basket, which the latter handed to him before himself retiring to a second-class compartment. The stranger, depositing the basket carefully by his side, sat bolt upright all the way down, as if it might injure the sit of his clothes to lean back, with a gloved hand holding the other glove (of lavender
