of arrogance to question, without inquiry, the prudence of the wisest of heathen philosophers. And the subject itself is one of such deep interest to every bold, but not wrong-minded inquirer into truth, that it will not be considered lost labour to investigate the motives in order to estimate the prudence and piety of Socrates. In the course of long and intense thought on this subject, I have appeared to discern reasons so deep, and principles so recondite from superficial observation in the conduct of Socrates, as to prove, if that stood in need of proof, that he was not merely a plain good man, but, in the largest sense of the word, a Philosopher.

Socrates' first reason for accommodating his religious belief and feelings, in a word, his sense of a Divine Obligation, to the religion of his country, obviously was a fixed and deep resolution not to say or do any thing which could decrease that reverence for the Deity, which he knew to be the very cornerstone of piety and virtue. He could not be ignorant that thousands would catch eagerly at scepticism, not from a desire of removing

superstition, but of getting free from religion. He was not unaware that even more rightminded persons could not come to a conviction of the unsoundness of the foundation on which they had built their belief and conduct, without this change being followed by contempt and irreligion, if not impiety, implying much licentiousness and anarchy of mind, if not of conduct. How difficult it is to avoid recoiling from a false fear to a false confidence, from servility to insolence, philosophy and history can bear sad witness. It was from these dangers that Socrates desired to preserve his countrymen, by acquiescing cheerfully in all that belief and worship which did not injure practical truth.

Socrates did not overlook in the triumph of an ungenerous cleverness, (why wil men overlook it in the insolence of bigotry?)-Socrates did not forget in the intolerance of a narrow acuteness, (why will men forget this in the uncandour of scepticism?) that there is a broad distinction between fiction and falsehood. He who had read Homer, could have no difficulty in acknowledging that many a

fiction is truer than history, and sounder than philosophy; truer in the real sequence of causes and effects, and sounder in developing the motives of conduct. The fictions of mythology are often but the metaphors of metaphysics. The fiction which assigns a ministering spirit to each agency of nature, is nearer to truth than the enunciation of fact or causation which induces man to suppose any, the least, power in matter, independently of the Divine Will. We may make a graven image out of matter, as surely as we may invent an imaginary being out of spirit. In either case we may say, Be thou my God. But the worshipping of matter is more debasing than the worshipping of an idea. The latter at least implies intelligence and free agency. It may interrupt the established order of nature with the volition of this free agent; but it prevents men from forgetting the Creator altogether in the creature. It is a most remarkable fact, as we shall have occasion presently to shew, that Socrates was saved by his sound sense, or, rather, by his diligent observation and clear reasoning, from the mistake of the

Fanatic; and yet was preserved by his piety, or the sound system of causation he had adopted, from the infinitely worse error of the Atheist. Let us apply this fair mode of judging of fictions as Socrates doubtless applied it. He anticipated less danger to good feeling and right conduct from permitting men to contemplate the Almighty under the attributes of Jove, than must have resulted from depriving the Governor of the Universe of authority over the minds of many in getting rid of time-honoured fables. He saw less danger of practical falsehood in admitting the existence of ever-mindful Furies, than in so denying this as to throw a doubt upon the misery of remorse being of Divine infliction. He dreaded lest in questioning the existence of a Dæmon watching over the individual, he should cause it to be forgotten that Reason and Conscience are Divine ministers.

Socrates must have reasoned in this manner to the conduct he adopted. These fables of mythology contain the germs of great and important truths; and are already received into public belief. We may regard them as the

lowest steps of a ladder by which we may ascend, not from falsehood, but from fiction, to truth. Were I to attempt to explode these fictions, I should be introducing into the minds of thousands vacillation of opinion, and changeableness of feeling, and all the moral evils which attend the breaking up of religious principle. I dare not indeed conceal from myself that the removal of mythological fables, even if it could be safely and perfectly effected, unaccompanied, as it must be, by purifying effects of patient and honest inquiry, mature reflection and deep conviction, and then an earnest, yet not contentious, desire of truth, is a most deceptive, however specious, step in advance towards practical truth. If the getting rid of the figure implies danger to the reality, if the fable cannot be exploded without peril to the moral, then what is gained in mere speculative truth is infinitely overbalanced by what is lost in practical truth. Now I conceive the motives which induced so conscientious and truth-telling a man as Socrates to stop something short of the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the