"Certainly; in this country we cannot interfere with the religion of the Mass. If I could plant a Bible in every cottage, I would teach all men, women, and children to read it; but the accomplishment of reading considered, without reference to religious instruction, is about as necessary and suitable to a poor labouring man, as a gold snuff box would be; and it is to me quite astonishing, that so many sober minds should give into the opposite absurdity which prevails at present, with a rage equal to that in the medical world for white mustard seed. We never think of silk gowns or fine cloth for the poor; we do not dream of serving up venison and turtle for them at a charity dinner; and, when sick, we do not order them the South of France, or prescribe hock, ice, and all the expensive delicacies become necessary to the luxury of our opulent higher classes. All things should be in keeping. A man who works for a shilling a day, eats his potatoes, and lies down to be refreshed by sleep for the morrow's labour, has no need of literature. It will neither make him happier nor better, unless you could secure the use of his acquirement in increased knowledge of the word of God. Our Irish Priests will not permit this. I do not mean to be hard upon them; they are a needy class, usually taken from the lowest conditions of life, and depending for subsistence on the measure of their influence with the people. To keep the minds of their flocks in absolute subjugation to their authority, is essential to their very existence; and they are fearfully aware, that free access to the Bible would quickly destroy their power, by undermining its foundation."
"At least," said I, "though the men cannot leave their spades, why not teach the women? They could instruct the children, and the next generation would reap the profit."
"Pooh, my dear Arthur, you are a young theorist, and float with the fashionable tide. Whatever be the situation of one sex must be shared by the other. A pair of diamond earrings would be about as appropriate an appendage to the head of poor Susan, whom you visited this morning, as the History of England, or a Treatise on Political Economy would be in her hands. The thing is not wanted—it is out of place. The sordid cares of life leave little time for bodily rest or mental repose; and unless, as I said before, you can be sure of planting the one thing needful, every moment which could be stolen from household toil, and devoted to books, would be employed on the trash which is placed through the licentious liberality of the press, within the grasp of all who desire to quaff at the feculent stream. Music is a pleasing resource, drawing is another, but you do not conceive these to be requisite for the well-being of our cottagers. How are reading, writing, arithmetic, and geometry, more allied to the happiness of an agricultural labourer than the former? Remember always that my argument only applies when the Bible is excluded or made subservient to the base purposes of secular advancement by hypocrites, who employ it as a stepping-stone to the favour of their superiors. Physicians do not read law, lawyers do not read physic, nor either of them military tactics—and why? Because they do not want a species of knowledge out of their department. The same rule may be generally applied. A poor cottager has nothing to do with letters, unless he be made better and happier by acquaintance with them; and should his attention be directed to the tirades of Messrs. Shiel and O'Connell, to the demoralizing details of practical vice with which our newspapers unfortunately abound; to the ethics of Mr. Cobbett or the religion of Mr. Carlile, instead of to the Sacred Volume, I think that you must agree with me in doubting the growth of virtue and contentment as the result of such studies."
I felt shaken, I must own, but replied, "The tide of public opinion is so forcible, that we are often drawn along with it before we are aware how far it will lead us. I confess that I have joined a hue and cry in favour of universal education, without thinking much about the matter. Experience, undoubtedly, must confirm or contradict the utility of its unlimited extension, and I shall be happy to hear your farther sentiments upon the subject, if you are not tired of my questions."
"Indeed, my dear Howard, you shall ever find me ready and willing to discuss this and every other topic upon which I am capable of offering an opinion; but we must not pass the day of your first visit to Lisfarne, at school. We must have a little recreation this morning, or I should despair of your coming again to see old C[oe]lebs in his cell. I want to take you a walk along the sea shore, and, as the day is fine, I am going, with your permission, to send one of my young footpads over to Glenalta, to say that you will dine here; and should Oliphant arrive, as I think he probably will by this evening's coach, you will not regret being absent at the meeting, as you are a stranger to the good man."
The name of Oliphant caused a sudden revulsion, and produced a complete bouleversement in all my pleasurable sensations. A stripling mountaineer was despatched, who flew like an arrow across the fields with Mr. Otway's message, and behold us arm in arm skirting the wood, and, ere long, approaching a bold headland which stood beautifully out into the bay. As we jogged on together, I felt growing more and more at ease with mine host, and at last ventured to give a vent to my Oliphantphobia, by saying, "How I dread this tiresome piece of parchment divinity that we are expecting! Adieu now to the cheerfulness of Glenalta. This old bookworm is, I suppose, my aunt's domestic sense-carrier, and will disapprove of every thing but black letter lore in the mornings, and snuffling canticles for our evening diversion."
"I think," said Phil. "that having found yourself deceived in so many preconceptions respecting Glenalta, you ought not to condemn poor Domine without benefit of clergy. Suspend your judgment. If you do not like him, you will differ widely from your family, but let him have fair play; I will not bespeak your favour, nor stand sponsor to your taste."
We walked on, stopped now and then to look at the views, and, at length turning into a zig-zag path, arrived by a short circuit at a little spot of exquisite beauty. It was an arch-way rather than cavern in the rock, extending inwards no farther than to form a bower of stone, if you will admit such a description. Lined with ivy, which actually grows like a tissue fitted to the irregular surface, and almost buried in arbutus, it seemed as if the very Genius of Contemplation had selected this natural alcove for her favourite haunt. I stood wonder-struck by the scene, innumerable sea-birds wheeling round us, and uttering their plaintive wailings to the wind. Rocks, ocean, solitude wherever the eye could reach, while the sun-beams dancing on the calm surface of the "green one," seemed to say, "you shall not indulge melancholy here."
Mr. Otway appeared much pleased with my silent rapture, and, after a little pause, took me to a seat covered with the same luxuriant drapery which hung upon the rocky walls, and which, without any apparent assistance from art, formed a bench entirely round the cave.
When we were seated, Mr. Otway, with a sigh which seemed to break from his heart, told me that this rude temple, hewn by nature from the wild mass of stone under the shelter of which we were now conversing, was sacred to my uncle.