diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/53228-0.txt | 10810 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/53228-0.zip | bin | 256009 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/53228-h.zip | bin | 375686 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/53228-h/53228-h.htm | 11143 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/53228-h/images/cbl-3.jpg | bin | 10982 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/53228-h/images/cbr-3.jpg | bin | 10983 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/53228-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 53257 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/53228-h/images/masthead.jpg | bin | 70990 -> 0 bytes |
11 files changed, 17 insertions, 21953 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..472e380 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53228 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53228) diff --git a/old/53228-0.txt b/old/53228-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6a09bba..0000000 --- a/old/53228-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10810 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Eclectic Magazine of Foreign Literature, -Science, and Art, February, 1885, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Eclectic Magazine of Foreign Literature, Science, and Art, February, 1885 - -Author: Various - -Release Date: October 7, 2016 [EBook #53228] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ECLECTIC MAGAZINE *** - - - - -Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Paul Marshall and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -ECLECTIC MAGAZINE OF FOREIGN LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART. - - -New Series. } FEBRUARY, 1885. {Old Series complete -Vol. XLI., No. 2. } {in 63 vols. - - - - -A FAITHLESS WORLD. - - -BY FRANCES POWER COBBE. - -A little somnolence seems to have overtaken religious controversy -of late. We are either weary of it or have grown so tolerant of our -differences that we find it scarcely worth while to discuss them. By -dint of rubbing against each other in the pages of the Reviews, in the -clubs, and at dinner parties, the sharp angles of our opinions have -been smoothed down. Ideas remain in a fluid state in this temperate -season of sentiment, and do not, as in old days, crystallize into -sects. We have become almost as conciliatory respecting our views as -the Chinese whom Huc describes as carrying courtesy so far as to praise -the religion of their neighbors and depreciate their own. “You, honored -sir,” they were wont to say, “are of the noble and lofty religion of -Confucius. I am of the poor and insignificant religion of Lao-tze.” -Only now and then some fierce controversialist, hailing usually from -India or the colonies where London amenities seem not yet to have -penetrated, startles us by the desperate earnestness wherewith he -disproves what we had almost forgotten that anybody seriously believes. - -As a result of the general “laissez _croire_” of our day, it has come -to pass that a question has been mooted which, to our fathers, would -have seemed preposterous: “Is it of any consequence what we believe, -or whether we believe anything? Suppose that by-and-by we all arrive -at the conclusion that Religion has been altogether a mistake, and -renounce with one accord the ideas of God and Heaven, having (as M. -Comte assures us) outgrown the theological stage of human progress; -what then? Will it make any serious difference to anybody?” - -Hitherto, thinkers of Mr. Bradlaugh’s type have sung pæans of welcome -for the expected golden years of Atheism, when “faiths and empires” will - - “Gleam - Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.” - -Christians and Theists of all schools, on the other hand, have -naturally deprecated with horror and dread such a cataclysm of faith -as sure to prove a veritable Ragnarok of universal ruin. In either -case it has been taken for granted that the change from a world of -little faith, like that in which we live, to a world wholly destitute -of faith, would be immensely great and far-reaching; and that at the -downfall of religion not only would the thrones and temples of the -earth, but every homestead in every land, be shaken to its foundation. -It is certainly a step beyond any yet taken in the direction of -scepticism to question this conclusion, and maintain that such a -revolution would be of trivial import, since things would go on with -mankind almost as well without a God as with one. - -The man who, with characteristic downrightness, has blurted out most -openly this last doubt of all—the doubt whether doubt be an evil—is, -as my readers will have recognized, Mr. Justice Stephen. In the -concluding pages of one of his sledge-hammerings on the heads of his -adversaries, in the _Nineteenth Century_ for last June, he rung the -changes upon the idea (with some reservations, to be presently noted) -as follows:— - - “If human life is in the course of being fully - described by science, I do not see what materials - there are for any religion, or, indeed, what would be - the use of one, or why it is wanted. We can get on - very well without one, for though the view of life - which science is opening to us gives us nothing to - worship, it gives us an infinite number of things to - enjoy.... The world seems to me a very good world, - if it would only last. It is full of pleasant people - and curious things, and I think that most men find - no great difficulty in turning their minds away - from its transient character. Love, friendship, - ambition, science, literature, art, politics, - commerce, professions, trades, and a thousand other - matters, will go equally well, as far as I can see, - whether there is, or is not, a God or a future - state.”—_Nineteenth Century_, No. 88, p. 917. - -Had these noteworthy words been written by an obscure individual, small -weight would have attached to them. We might have observed on reading -them that the—not wise—person who three thousand years ago “said in -his heart, there is no God,” had in the interval plucked up courage -to say in the magazines that it does not signify whether there be one -or not. But the dictum comes to us from a gentleman who happens to -be the very antithesis of the object of Solomon’s detestation, a man -of distinguished ability and unsullied character, of great knowledge -of the world (as revealed to successful lawyers), of almost abnormal -clear-headedness; and lastly, strangest anomaly of all! who is the -representative of a family in which the tenderest and purest type of -Protestant piety has long been hereditary. It is the last utterance -of the devout “Clapham School,” of Venn, Stephen, Hannah More and -Wilberforce, which we hear saying: “I think we could do very well -without religion.” - -As it is a widely received idea just now that the Evolution theory is -destined to coil about religion till it strangle it, and as it has -become the practice with the scientific party to talk of religion as -politicians twenty years ago talked of Turkey, as a Sick Man destined -to a speedy dissolution, it seems every way desirable that we should -pay the opinion of Sir James Stephen on this head that careful -attention to which, indeed, everything from his pen has a claim. Those -amongst us who have held that Religion is of priceless value should -bring their prepossessions in its favor to the bar of sober judgment, -and fairly face this novel view of it as neither precious Truth nor -yet disastrous Error, but as an unimportant matter of opinion which -Science may be left to settle without anxiety as to the issue. We ought -to bring our Treasure to assay, and satisfy ourselves once for all -whether it be really pure gold or only a fairy substitute for gold, to -be transformed some day into a handful of autumn leaves and scattered -to the winds. - -To estimate the part played by Religion in the past history of the -human race would be a gigantic undertaking immeasurably above my -ambition.[1] A very much simpler inquiry is that which I propose -to pursue: namely, one into the chief consequences which might be -anticipated to follow the downfall of such Religion, as at present -prevails in civilized Europe and America. When these consequences have -been, however imperfectly, set in array we shall be in a position to -form some opinion whether we “can do very well without religion.” Let -me premise:— - -1. That by the word Religion I mean definite faith in a Living and -Righteous God; and, as a corollary therefrom, in the survival of the -human soul after death. In other words, I mean by “religion” that -nucleus of simple Theism which is common to every form of natural -religion, of Christianity and Judaism; and, of course, in a measure -also to remoter creeds, which will not be included in the present -purview. Further, I do _not_ mean Positivism, or Agnosticism, or -Buddhism, exoteric or esoteric; or the recognition of the “Unknown -and Unknowable,” or of a “Power not ourselves which makes for -righteousness.” These may, or may not, be fitly termed “religions;” but -it is not the results of their triumph or extinction which we are here -concerned to estimate. I shall even permit myself generally to refer to -all such phases of non-belief as involve denial of the dogmas of Theism -above-stated as “Atheism;” not from discourtesy, but because it would -be impossible at every point to distinguish them, and because, for the -purposes of the present argument, they are tantamount to Atheism. - -2. That I absolve myself from weighing against the advantages of -Religion the evils which have followed its manifold corruptions. Those -evils, in the case even of the Christian religion, I recognize to have -been so great, so hideous, that during their prevalence it might have -been plausibly—though even then, I think, not truly—contended that -they out-balanced its benefits. But the days of the worst distortions -of Christianity have long gone by. The Christianity of our day tends, -as it appears to me, more and more to resume the character of the -_Religion of Christ_, _i.e._, the religion which Christ believed and -lived; and to reject that other and very different religion which -men have taught in Christ’s name. As this deep and silent but vast -change comes over the spirit of the Christianity of modern Europe, it -becomes better and better qualified to meet fearlessly the challenge, -“Should we do well without religion in its Christian shape?” But it is -not my task here to analyze the results of any one type of religion, -Christian, Jewish, or simply Theistic; but only to register those of -_Religion itself_, as I have defined it above, namely, faith in God and -in immortality. - -I confess, at starting on this inquiry, that the problem “Is religion -of use, or can we do as well without it?” seems to me almost as -grotesque as the old story of the woman who said that we owe vast -obligation to the Moon, which affords us light on dark nights, -whereas we are under no such debt to the Sun, who only shines by day, -_when there is always light_. Religion has been to us so diffused a -light that it is quite possible to forget how we came by the general -illumination, save when now and then it has blazed out with special -brightness. On the other hand, all the moon-like things which are -proposed to us as substitutes for Religion,—friendship, science, -art, commerce, and politics,—have a very limited area wherein they -shine at all, and leave the darkness around much as they found it. -It is the special and unique character of Religion to deal with the -whole of human nature _all_ our pleasures and pains and duties and -affections and hopes and fears, here and hereafter. It offers to the -Intellect an explanation of the universe (true or false we need not -now consider); and, pointing to Heaven, it responds to the most eager -of its questions. It offers to the Conscience a law claiming authority -to regulate every act and every word. And it offers to the Heart an -absolutely love-worthy Being as the object of its adoration. Whether -these immense offers of Religion are all genuine, or all accepted by us -individually, they are quite unmatched by anything which science, or -art, or politics, or commerce, or even friendship, has to bestow. The -relation of religion to us is not one-sided like theirs, but universal, -ubiquitous; not moon-like, appearing at intervals, but sun-like, -forming the source, seen or unseen, of all our light and heat, even -of the warmth of our household fires. Strong or weak as may be its -influence on us as individuals, it is the greatest thing with which -we have to do, from the cradle to the grave. And this holds good -whether we give ourselves up to it or reject it. It is the one great -acceptance, or “_il gran rifiuto_.” Nothing equally great can come in -our way again. - -In an estimate of the consequences which would follow a general -rejection of religion, we are bound to take into view the two classes -of men—those who are devout and those who are not so—who would, of -course, be diversely affected by such a revolution of opinion. As -regards the first, every one will concede that the loss of so important -a factor in their lives would alter those lives radically. As regards -the second, after noting the orderly and estimable conduct of many -of them, the observer might, _per contra_, not unfairly surmise that -they would continue to act just as they do at present were religion -universally exploded. But ere such a conclusion could be legitimately -drawn from the meritorious lives of non-religious men in the present -order of society, we should be allowed (it is a familiar remark) to -see the behavior of a whole nation of Atheists. Our contemporaries are -no more fair samples of the outcome of Atheism than a little party -of English youths who had lived for a few years in Central Africa -would be samples of Negroes. It would take several thousand years to -make a full-blooded Atheist out of the scion of forty generations of -Christians. Our whole mental constitutions have been built up on food -of religious ideas. A man on a mountain top, might as well resolve -not to breathe the ozone in the air, as to live in the intellectual -atmosphere of England and inhale no Christianity. - -As, then, it is impossible to forecast what would be the consequences -of universal Atheism hereafter by observing the conduct of individual -Atheists to-day, all that can be done is to study bit by bit the -changes which must take place should this planet ever become, as is -threatened, a _Faithless World_. In pursuing this line of inquiry it -will be well to remember that every ill result of loss of faith and -hope which we may now observe will be _cumulative_ as a larger and -yet larger number of persons, and at last the whole community, reject -religion together. Atheists have been hitherto like children playing -at the mouth of a cavern of unknown depth. They have run in and out, -and explored it a little way, but always within sight of the daylight -outside, where have stood their parents and friends calling on them to -return. Not till the way back to the sunshine has been lost will the -darkness of that cave be fully revealed. - -I shall now register very briefly the more obvious and tangible changes -which would follow the downfall of religion in Europe and America, and -then devote my available space to a rather closer examination of those -which are less manifest; the drying up of those hidden rills which now -irrigate the whole subsoil of our civilization. - - * * * * * - -The first visible change in the Faithless World, of course, would be -the suppression of Public and Private Worship and of Preaching; the -secularization or destruction everywhere of Cathedrals, Churches, and -Chapels; and the extinction of the Clerical Profession. A considerable -_hiatus_ would undoubtedly be thus made in the present order of things. -Public Worship and Preaching, however much weariness of the flesh -has proverbially attended them, have, to say the least, done much to -calm, to purify, and to elevate the minds of millions; nor does it -seem that any multiplication of scientific Lectures or Penny Readings -would form a substitute for them. The effacement from each landscape -of the towers and spires of the churches would be a somewhat painful -symbol of the simultaneous disappearance from human life of heavenly -hope and aspiration. The extinction of the Ministry of Religion, though -it would be hailed even now by many as a great reformation, would be -found practically, I apprehend, to reduce by many perceptible degrees -the common moral level; and to suppress many highly-aimed activities -with which we could ill dispense. The severity of the strictures always -passed on the faults of clergymen testifies to the general expectation, -not wholly disappointed, that they should exhibit a loftier standard -of life than other men; and the hortative and philanthropic work -accomplished by the forty or fifty thousand ministers of the various -sects and churches in England alone, must form, after all deductions, -a sum of beneficence which it would sorely tax any conceivable secular -organization to replace in the interests of public morality. - -Probably the Seventh Day Rest would survive every other religious -institution in virtue of its popularity among the working classes, soon -to be everywhere masters of legislation. The failure of the Tenth Day -holiday in the first French Revolution would also forestall any further -experiments in varying the hebdomadal interval so marvellously adapted -to our mental and physical constitution. As, however, all religious -meaning of the day would be lost, and all church-going stopped, -nothing would hinder the employment of its hours from morning to night -as Easter Monday and Whit Monday are now employed by the millions in -our great cities. The nation would, therefore, enjoy the somewhat -doubtful privilege of keeping fifty-six Bank Holidays instead of four -in the year. Judicial and official oaths of all sorts, and Marriage -and Burial rites, would, of course, be entirely abolished. A gentleman -pronouncing the _Oraison Funèbre_ outside the crematorium would replace -the old white-robed parson telling the mourners;— - - “Beneath the churchyard tree, - In solemn tones, and yet not sad, - Of what man is, what man shall be.” - -Another change more important than any of these, in Protestant -countries, would be the reduction of the Bible to the rank of an -historical and literary curiosity. Nothing (as we all recognize) but -the supreme religious importance attached to the Hebrew Scriptures -could have forced any book into the unique position which the Bible -has now held for three centuries in English and Scottish education. -Even that held by the Koran throughout Islam is far less remarkable, -inasmuch as the latter (immeasurably inferior though it be) is the -supreme work of the national literature, whereas we have adopted the -literature of an alien race. All the golden fruit which the English -intellect has borne from Shakespeare downwards may be said to have -grown on this priceless Semitic graft upon the Aryan stem. - -But as nothing but its religious interest, over and above its -historical and poetical value, could have given the Bible its present -place amongst us, so the rejection of religion must quickly lower its -popularity by a hundred degrees. Notwithstanding anything which the -Matthew Arnolds of the future may plead on behalf of its glorious -poetry and mines of wisdom, the youth of the future “Faithless World” -will spare very little time from their scientific studies to read a -book brimming over with religious sentiments which to them will be -nauseous. Could everything else remain unchanged after the extinction -of religion in England, it seems to me that the unravelling of this -Syrian thread from the very tissue of our minds will altogether alter -their texture. - -Whether the above obvious and tangible results of a general -relinquishment of religion would all be _disadvantageous_ may, -possibly, be an open question. That they would be _trifling_, and that -things would go on much as they have done after they had taken place, -seems to me, I confess, altogether incredible. - -I now turn to those less obvious consequences of the expected downfall -of religion which would take place silently. - -The first of these would be the _belittling_ of life. Religion has been -to us hitherto (to rank it at its lowest), like a great mountain in -a beautiful land. When the clouds descend and hide the mountain, the -grandeur of the scene is gone. A stranger entering that land at such -a time will commend the sweetness of the vales and woods; but those -who know it best will say, “Ichabod!—The glory has departed.” To do -justice to the eminent man whose opinion concerning the practical -unimportance of religion I am endeavoring to combat, he has seen -clearly and frankly avowed this ennobling influence of religion, and, -as a corollary, would, I presume, admit the _minifying_ consequences of -its general abandonment.[2] If the window which Religion opens out -on the infinite expanse of God and Heaven, immeasurably enlarges and -lightens our abode of clay, the walling of it up cannot fail to narrow -and darken it beyond all telling. Human nature, ever pulled two ways -by downward and by aspiring tendencies, cannot afford to lose all the -aid which religious ideas offer to its upward flight. Only when they -disappear will men perceive how the two thoughts—of this world as -_God’s world_, and of ourselves as Immortal beings,—have, between -them, lighted up in rainbow hues the dull plains of earth. When they -fade away, all things, Nature, Art, Duty, Love, and Death, will seem to -grow grey and cold. Everything which casts a glamour over life will be -gone. - -Even from the point of view of Art (of which in these days perhaps too -much is made), life will lose _poetry_ if it lose religion. Nothing -ever stirs our sympathies like it, or like a glimpse into the inner -self of our brother man, as affected by repentance, hope, and prayer. -The great genius, of George Eliot revealed this to her; and, Agnostic -as she was, she rarely failed to strike this resonant string of human -nature, as in “Adam Bede,” “Silas Marner,” and “Janet’s Repentance.” -French novelists who have no knowledge of it, and who describe the -death of a man as they might do that of an ox, while they galvanize our -imaginations, rarely touch the outer hem of our sympathies. Religion -in its old anthropomorphic forms was the great inspirer of sculpture, -painting, poetry, science, and almost the creator of architecture. -Phidias, Dante, Michael Angelo, Raphael, Milton, Handel, and the -builders of the Egyptian temples and mediæval cathedrals, were all -filled with the religious spirit, nor can we imagine what they would -have been without it. In the purer modern types of religion, while -music and architecture would still remain in its direct service, we -should expect painting and sculpture to be less immediately concerned -with it than in old days, because unable to touch such purely spiritual -ideas. But the elevation, aspiration, and reverence which have their -root in religion must continue to inspire those arts likewise, or -they will fall into triviality on one side (as there seems danger in -England), or into obscene materialism on the other, as is already -annually exemplified on the walls of the Paris _Salon_. - -Again, it will not merely belittle life, it will _carnalize_ it to -take Religion out of it. The lump without the leaven will be grosser -and heavier than we have dreamed. Civilization, as we all know, bore -under Imperial Rome, and may assume again any day, the hateful type in -which luxury and cruelty, art and sensuality, go hand in hand. That it -ever changed its character and has come to mean with us refinement, -self-restraint, chivalry, and freedom from the coarser vices, is surely -due to the fact that it has grown up _pari passu_ with Christianity. -In truth it needs no argument to prove that, as the bestial tendencies -in us have scarcely been kept down while we believed ourselves to be -immortal souls, they will have it still more their own way when we feel -assured we are only mortal bodies. - -And the life thus belittled and carnalized will be a more cowardly -life than men have been wont to lead while they had a Providence over -them and a heaven waiting for them. Already, I fear, we may see some -signs of this new poltroonery of reflective prudence, which holds that -death is the greatest of all evils, and disease the next greatest; -and teaches men to prefer a “whole skin” to honor and patriotism, and -health to duty. Writing of this Hygeiolatry elsewhere, I have remarked -that it has almost come to be accepted as a canon of morals that any -practice which, in the opinion of experts, conduces to bodily health, -or tends to the cure of disease, becomes _ipso facto_ lawful; and -that there are signs apparent that this principle is bearing fruit, -and that men and women are beginning to be systematically selfish and -self-indulgent where their health is concerned, in modes not hitherto -witnessed. In public life it is notorious that whenever a Bill comes -before Parliament concerning itself with sanitary matters there is -exhibited by many of the speakers, and by the journalists who discuss -it, a readiness to trample on personal and parental rights in a way -forming a new feature in English legislation, and well deserving of -the rebuke it has received from Mr. Herbert Spencer. As to military -courage, I fear it will also wane amongst us, as it seemed to have -waned amongst the French atheistic soldiery at Metz and Sedan. Great as -are the evils of war, those of a peace only maintained by the nations -because it had become no longer possible to raise troops who would -stand fire, would be immeasurably worse. - -From the general results on the community, I now pass to consider those -on the life of the individual which may be expected to follow the -collapse of Religion. - -Mr. Mallock in his “New Republic,” made the original and droll remark -that even Vice would lose much of its savor were there no longer any -morality against which it might sin. As Morality will probably not -expire—though its vigor must be considerably reduced—by the demise -of its Siamese twin, Religion, it would seem that Vice need not fear, -even in such a contingency, the entire loss of the pleasures of -disobedience. Nevertheless (to speak seriously), it is pretty certain -that the temperature of all moral sentiments will fall so considerably -when the sun of religion ceases to warm them that not a few will perish -of cold. The “Faithless World” will pass through a moral Glacial -Period, wherein much of our present fauna and flora will disappear. -What, for example, can become, in that frigid epoch of godlessness, -of _Aspiration_, the sacred passion, the _ambition sainte_ to become -perfect and holy, which has stirred at one time or other in the breast -of every son of God; the longing to attain the crowning heights of -truth, goodness, and purity? This is surely not a sentiment which can -live without faith in a Divine Perfection, existing somewhere in the -universe, and an Immortal Life wherein the infinite progress may be -carried on. Even the man whose opinions on the general unimportance of -religion I am venturing to question in these pages, admits frankly -enough that it is not the heroic or saintly character which will be -cultivated after the extinction of faith. Among the changes which he -anticipates, one will be that “the respectable man of the world, the -_lukewarm, nominal Christian_, who believed as much of his creed as -happened to suit him, and _led an easy life_, will turn out to have -been right after all,” Precisely so. The _easy life_ will be the ideal -life in the “Faithless World;” and the life of Aspiration, the life -which is a prayer, will be lived no more. And the “lukewarm” men of the -world, in their “easy lives,” will be all the easier and more lukewarm -for leading them thenceforth unrebuked by any higher example. - -Again, Repentance as well as aspiration will disappear under the -snows of atheism. I have written before on this subject in this -REVIEW,[3] and will now briefly say that Mr. Darwin’s almost -ludicrously false definition of Repentance is an illustration of -the inability of the modern scientific mind to comprehend spiritual -phenomena; much less to be the subject of them. In his _Descent of -Man_, this great thinker and most amiable man describes Repentance -as a natural return, after the satisfaction of selfish passions, to -“the instinct of sympathy and good will to his fellows which is still -present and ever in some degree active” in a man’s mind.... “And then, -a sense of dissatisfaction will inevitably be felt” (_Descent of Man_, -p. 90). Thus even on the showing of the great philosopher of evolution -himself, Repentance (or rather the “dissatisfaction” he confounds with -that awful convulsion of the soul) is only to be looked for under -the very exceptional circumstances of men in whom the “instinct of -sympathy and good will to their fellows” is ever present, and moreover -_reasserts itself after they have injured them_—in flat opposition to -ordinary human experience as noted by Tacitus, _Humani generis proprium -est odisse quem læseris_. - -The results of the real spiritual phenomenon of Repentance (not Mr. -Darwin’s child’s-play) are so profound and far-reaching that it cannot -but happen that striking them out of human experience will leave -life more shallow. No soul will survive with the deeper and riper -character which comes out of that ordeal. As Hawthorne illustrated it -in his exquisite parable of _Transformation_, men, till they become -conscious of sin, are morally little more than animals. Out of hearts -ploughed by contrition spring flowers fairer than ever grow on the -hard ground of unbroken self-content. There bloom in them Sympathy -and Charity for other erring mortals; and Patience under suffering -which is acknowledged to be merited; and lastly, sweetest blossom of -all! tender Gratitude for earthly and heavenly blessings felt to be -free gifts of Divine love. Not a little, perhaps, of the prevalent -disease of pessimism is owing to the fact that these flowers of -charity, patience, and thankfulness are becoming more and more rare as -cultivated men cease to feel what old theologians used to call “the -exceeding sinfulness of sin;” or to pass through any vivid experiences -of penitence and restoration. As a necessary consequence they never -see the true proportions of good and evil, joy and grief, sin and -retribution. They weigh jealously human Pain; they never place human -Guilt in the opposite scale. There is little chance that any man will -ever feel how sinful is sin, who has not seen it in the white light of -the holiness of God. - -The abrogation of Public Worship was mentioned above as one of the -visible consequences of the general rejection of religion. To it must -here be added a still direr and deeper loss, that of the use of Private -Prayer—whether for spiritual or other good, either on behalf of -ourselves or of others; all Confession, all Thanksgiving, in one word -all effort at communion of the finite spirit with the Infinite. This is -not the place in which this subject can be treated as it would require -to be were the full consequences of such a cessation of the highest -function of our nature to be defined. It may be enough now to say that -the Positivists in their fantastic device of addresses to the _grand -être_ of Humanity as a substitute for real prayer to the Living God, -have themselves testified to the smaller—the subjective—part of the -value of the practice. Alas for our poor human race if ever the day -should arrive when to Him who now “heareth prayer,” flesh shall no -longer come! - -With Aspiration, Repentance, and Prayer renounced and forgotten, and -the inner life made as “easy” as the outward, we may next inquire -whether in the “Faithless World” the relations between man and man -will either remain what they have been, improve or deteriorate? I have -heard a secularist lecturer argue that the love of God has been a -great hindrance to the love of man; and I believe it is the universal -opinion of Agnostics and Comtists that the “enthusiasm of Humanity” -will flourish and form the crowning glory of the future after religion -is dead. It is obvious, indeed, that the social virtues are rapidly -eclipsing in public opinion those which are personal and religious; and -if Philanthropy is not to be enthroned in the “Faithless World,” there -is no chance for Veracity, Piety, or Purity. - -But, not to go over ground which I have traversed already in this -REVIEW, it will be enough now to remark that Mr. Justice -Stephen, with his usual perspicacity, has found out that there is here -a “rift within the lute,” and frankly tells us that we must not expect -to see Christian Charity after the departure of Christianity. He thinks -that temperance, fortitude, benevolence, and justice will always be -honored and rewarded, but— - - “If a purely human morality takes the place of - Christian morals, self-command and self-denial, force - of character shown in postponing the present to the - future (_qy._, selfish prudence?) will take the place - of self-sacrifice as an object of admiration. Love, - friendship, good-nature, kindness, carried to the - height of sincere and devoted affection will always - be the chief pleasures of life, whether Christianity - is true or false; but Christian charity is not the - same as any of these or of all of them put together, - and I think, if Christian theology were exploded, - Christian charity would not survive it.” - -Even if the same sentiment of charity were kept alive in a “Faithless -World,” I do not think its ministrations would be continued on the same -lines as hitherto. The more kind-hearted an atheist may be (and many -have the kindest of hearts) the less, I fancy, he could endure to go -about as a comforter among the wretched and dying, bringing with him -only such cold consolation as may be afforded by the doctrine of the -“Survival of the Fittest.” Every one who has tried to lighten the -sorrows of this sad world, or to reclaim the criminal and the vicious, -knows how immense is the advantage of being able to speak of God’s love -and pity, and of a life where the bereaved shall be reunited to their -beloved ones. It would break, I should think, a compassionate atheist’s -heart to go from one to another death-bed in cottage or workhouse or -hospital, meet the yearning looks of the dying, and watch the anguish -of wife or husband or mother, and be unable honestly to say: “This is -not the end. There is Heaven in store.” But Mr. Justice Stephen speaks, -I apprehend, of another reason than this why Christian charity must -not be expected to survive Christianity. The truth is (though he does -not say it) that the charity of Science is not merely _different_ from -the charity of Religion; it is an _opposite_ thing altogether. Its -softest word is _Væ Victis_. Christianity (and like it I should hope -every possible form of future religion) says, “The strong ought to bear -the burdens of the weak. Blessed are the merciful, the unselfish, the -tender-hearted, the humble-minded.” Science says, “The supreme law of -Nature is the Survival of the Fittest; and that law, applied to human -morals, means the remorseless crushing down of the unfit. The strong -and the gifted shall inherit the earth, and the weak and simple go -to the wall. Blessed are the merciless, for they shall obtain useful -knowledge. Blessed are the self-asserting, for theirs is the kingdom of -this world, and there is no world after it.” - -These Morals of Evolution are beginning gradually to make their way, -and to be stated (of course in veiled and modest language) frequently -by those priests of science, the physiologists. Should they ever obtain -general acceptance, and Darwinian morality take the place of the Sermon -on the Mount, the old _droit du plus fort_ of barbarous ages will be -revived with more deliberate oppression, and the last state of our -civilization will be worse than the first. - -Behind all these changes of public and general concern, lies the -deepest change of all for each man’s own heart. We are told that in -a “Faithless World” we may interest ourselves in friendship, and -politics, and commerce, and literature, science, and art, and that “a -man who cannot occupy every waking moment of a long life with some or -other of these things must be either very unfortunate in regard to his -health, or circumstances, or else must be a poor creature.” - -But it is not necessary to be either unfortunate oneself or a very -“poor creature” to feel that the wrongs and agonies of this world of -pain are absolutely intolerable unless we can be assured that they will -be righted hereafter; that “there is a God who judgeth the earth,” and -that all the oppressed and miserable of our race, aye, and even the -tortured brutes, are beheld by Him. It is, I think, on the contrary, -to be a “poor creature” to be able to satisfy the hunger of the soul -after justice, the yearning of the heart for mercy, with such pursuits -as money-getting, and scientific research, and the writing of clever -books, and painting of pretty pictures. Not that which is “poorest” in -us, but that which is richest and noblest, refuses to “occupy every -moment of a long life” with our own ambitions and amusements, or to -shut out deliberately from our minds the “Riddle of the painful Earth.” -A curse would be on us in our “lordly pleasure-house” were we to do it. - -Even if it be possible to enjoy our own good fortune regardless of -the woes of others, is it not rather a pitiful wreck and remnant of -merely selfish happiness which it is proposed to leave to us? “The -world,” we are told, “is full of pleasant people and curious things,” -and “most men find no difficulty in _turning their minds away_ from -its transient character.” Even our enjoyment of “pleasant people and -curious things” must be held, then, on the condition of reducing -ourselves—philosophers that we are, or shall be—to the humble level -of the hares and rabbits!— - - “Regardless of their doom the little victims play.” - -Surely the happiness of any creature, deserving to be called Rational, -depends on the circumstance whether he can look on Good as “the final -goal of ill,” or believe Ill to be the final goal of any good he has -obtained or hopes for;—whether he walk on a firm, even if it be a -thorny road, or tread on thin, albeit glittering ice, destined ere long -to break beneath his feet? The faith that there is an ORDER -tending everywhere to good, and that JUSTICE sooner or later -will be done to all,—this, almost universal, faith to which the -whole literature of the world bears testimony, seems to me no less -indispensable for our selfish happiness than it is for any unselfish -satisfaction in the aspect of human life at large. If it be finally -baulked, and we are compelled to relinquish it for ever at the bidding -of science, existence alike on our own account and that of others will -become unendurable. - -In all I have said hitherto, I have confined myself to discussing the -probable results of the downfall of religion on men in general, and -have not attempted to define what they would be to those who have been -fervently religious; and who we must suppose (on the hypothesis of -such a revolution) to be forcibly driven by scientific arguments out -of their faith in God and the life to come. To such persons (and there -are, alas! many already who think they have been so driven, and to whom -the sad result is therefore the same) the loss must needs be like that -of the darkening of the sun. Of all human sorrows the bitterest is to -discover that we have misplaced our love; labored and suffered in vain; -thrown away our heart’s devotion. All this, and much more, must it be -to _lose God_. Among those who have endured it there are, of course, as -we all know, many who have reconciled themselves to the loss, and some -tell us they are the happier. Yet, I think to the very last hour of -life there must remain in every heart which has once _loved_ God (not -merely believed in or feared Him) an infinite regret if it can love Him -no more; and the universe, were it crowded with a million friends, must -seem empty when that Friend is gone. - -As to human Love and Friendship, to which we are often bidden to turn -as the best substitutes for religion, I feel persuaded that, above all -other things they must deteriorate in a “Faithless World.” To apples -of Sodom must all their sweetness turn, from the hour in which men -recognize their transitory nature. The warmer and more tender and -reverential the affection, the more intolerable must become the idea of -eternal separation; and the more beautiful and admirable the character -of our friend, the more maddening the belief that in a few years, or -days, he will vanish into nothingness. Sooner than endure the agony -of these thoughts, I feel sure that men will check themselves from -entering into the purer and holier relations of the heart. Affection, -predestined to be cast adrift, will throw out no more anchors, but -will float on every wave of passion or caprice. The day in which it -becomes impossible for men to vow that they will love _for ever_ will -almost be the last in which they will love nobly and purely at all. - -But if these things hold good as regard the prosperous and healthy, and -those still in the noon of life, what is to be said of the prospects -in the “Faithless World,” of the diseased, the poverty-stricken, the -bereaved, the aged? There is no need to strain our eyes to look into -the dark corners of the earth. We all know (though while we ourselves -stand in the sunshine we do not often _feel_) what hundreds of -thousands of our fellow-mortals are enduring at all times, in the way -of bodily and mental anguish. When these overtake us, or when Old Age -creeps on, and - - “First our pleasures die, and then - Our hopes, and then our fears,” - -is it possible to suppose it will make “little difference” what we -believe as to the existence of some loving Power in whose arms our -feebleness may find support; or of another life wherein our winter may -be turned once more to spring? If we live long enough, the day must -come to each of us when we shall find our chief interest in our daily -newspaper most often in the obituary columns, till, one after another -nearly all the friends of our youth and prime have “gone over to the -majority,” and we begin to live in a world peopled with spectres. Our -talk with those who travel still beside us is continually referring to -the dead, and our very jests end in a sigh for the sweet old laughter -which we shall never hear again. If in these solemn years we yet have -faith in God and Immortality, and as we recall one dear one after -another,—father, mother, brother, friend,—we can say to ourselves, -“They are all gone into the world of light; they are all safe and -rejoicing in the smile of God;” then our grief is only mourning; it -is not despair. Our sad hearts are cheered and softened, not turned -to stone by the memories of the dead. Let us, however, on the other -hand, be driven by our new guide, Science, to abandon this faith and -the hope of eternal reunion, then, indeed, must our old age be utterly, -utterly desolate. O! the mockery of saying that it would make “no great -difference!” - -We have been told that in the event of the fall of religion, “life -would remain in most particulars and to most people much what it -is at present.” It appears to me, on the contrary, that there is -actually _nothing_ in life which would be left unchanged after such a -catastrophe. - - * * * * * - -But I have only conjured up the nightmare of a “Faithless World.” -GOD LIVES; and in His light we shall see light.—_Contemporary -Review._ - - - - -FOOD AND FEEDING. - - -When a man and a bear meet together casually in an American forest, -it makes a great deal of difference, to the two parties concerned at -least, whether the bear eats the man or the man eats the bear. We -haven’t the slightest difficulty in deciding afterwards which of the -two, in each particular case, has been the eater, and which the eaten. -Here, we say, is the grizzly that ate the man; or, here is the man -that smoked and dined off the hams of the grizzly. Basing our opinion -upon such familiar and well-known instances, we are apt to take it for -granted far too readily that between eating and being eaten, between -the active and the passive voice of the verb _edo_, there exists -necessarily a profound and impassable native antithesis. To swallow an -oyster is, in our own personal histories, so very different a thing -from being swallowed by a shark that we can hardly realise at first -the underlying fundamental identity of eating with mere coalescence. -And yet, at the very outset of the art of feeding, when the nascent -animal first began to indulge in this very essential animal practice, -one may fairly say that no practical difference as yet existed between -the creature that ate and the creature that was eaten. After the man -and the bear had finished their little meal, if one may be frankly -metaphorical, it was impossible to decide whether the remaining being -was the man or the bear, or which of the two had swallowed the other. -The dinner having been purely mutual, the resulting animal represented -both the litigants equally; just as, in cannibal New Zealand, the chief -who ate up his brother chief was held naturally to inherit the goods -and chattels of the vanquished and absorbed rival, whom he had thus -literally and physically incorporated. - -A jelly-speck, floating about at his ease in a drop of stagnant water -under the field of a microscope, collides accidentally with another -jelly-speck who happens to be travelling in the opposite direction -across the same miniature ocean. What thereupon occurs? One jelly-speck -rolls itself gradually into the other, so that, instead of two, -there is now one: and the united body proceeds to float away quite -unconcernedly, without waiting to trouble itself for a second with -the profound metaphysical question, which half of it is the original -personality, and which half the devoured and digested. In these minute -and very simple animals there is absolutely no division of labor -between part and part; every bit of the jelly-like mass is alike head -and foot and mouth and stomach. The jelly-speck has no permanent limbs, -but it keeps putting forth vague arms and legs every now and then from -one side or the other; and with these temporary and ever-dissolving -members it crawls along merrily through its tiny drop of stagnant -water. If two of the legs or arms happen to knock up casually against -one another, they coalesce at once, just like two drops of water on -a window-pane, or two strings of treacle slowly spreading along the -surface of a plate. When the jelly-speck meets any edible thing—a -bit of dead plant, a wee creature like itself, a microscopic egg—it -proceeds to fold its own substance slimily around it, making, as -it were, a temporary mouth for the purpose of swallowing it, and a -temporary stomach for the purpose of quietly digesting and assimilating -it afterwards. Thus what at one moment is a foot may at the next moment -become a mouth, and at the moment after that again a rudimentary -stomach. The animal has no skin and no body, no outside and no inside, -no distinction of parts or members, no individuality, no identity. -Roll it up into one with another of its kind, and it couldn’t tell you -itself a minute afterwards which of the two it had really been a minute -before. The question of personal identity is here considerably mixed. - -But as soon as we get to rather larger creatures of the same type, -the antithesis between the eater and the eaten begins to assume -a more definite character. The big jelly-bag approaches a good -many smaller jelly-bags, microscopic plants, and other appropriate -foodstuffs, and, surrounding them rapidly with its crawling arms, -envelops them in its own substance, which closes behind them and -gradually digests them. Everybody knows, by name at least, that -revolutionary and evolutionary hero, the amœba—the terror of -theologians, the pet of professors, and the insufferable bore of -the general reader. Well, this parlous and subversive little animal -consists of a comparatively large mass of soft jelly, pushing forth -slender lobes, like threads or fingers, from its own substance, and -gliding about, by means of these tiny legs, over water-plants and -other submerged surfaces. But though it can literally turn itself -inside out, like a glove, it still has some faint beginnings of a -mouth and stomach, for it generally takes in food and absorbs water -through a particular part of its surface, where the slimy mass of its -body is thinnest. Thus the amœba may be said really to eat and drink, -though quite devoid of any special organs for eating or drinking. - -The particular point to which I wish to draw attention here, however, -is this: that even the very simplest and most primitive animals do -discriminate somehow between what is eatable and what isn’t. The -amœba has no eyes, no nose, no mouth, no tongue, no nerves of taste, -no special means of discrimination of any kind; and yet, so long as it -meets only grains of sand or bits of shell, it makes no effort in any -way to swallow them; but the moment it comes across a bit of material -fit for its food, it begins at once to spread its clammy fingers around -the nutritious morsel. The fact is, every part of the amœba’s body -apparently possesses, in a very vague form, the first beginnings of -those senses which in us are specialised and confined to a single spot. -And it is because of the light which the amœba thus incidentally -casts upon the nature of the specialised senses in higher animals that -I have ventured once more to drag out of the private life of his native -pond that already too notorious and obtrusive rhizopod. - -With us lordly human beings, at the extreme opposite end in the scale -of being from the microscopic jelly-specks, the art of feeding and the -mechanism which provides for it have both reached a very high state of -advanced perfection. We have slowly evolved a tongue and palate on the -one hand, and French cooks and _pâté de foie gras_ on the other. But -while everybody knows practically how things taste to us, and which -things respectively we like and dislike, comparatively few people ever -recognize that the sense of taste is not merely intended as a source of -gratification, but serves a useful purpose in our bodily economy, in -informing us what we ought to eat and what to refuse. Paradoxical as it -may sound at first to most people, nice things are, in the main, things -that are good for us, and nasty things are poisonous or otherwise -injurious. That we often practically find the exact contrary the case -(alas!) is due, not to the provisions of nature, but to the artificial -surroundings in which we live, and to the cunning way in which we -flavor up unwholesome food, so as to deceive and cajole the natural -palate. Yet, after all, it is a pleasant gospel that what we like is -really good for us, and, when we have made some small allowances for -artificial conditions, it is in the main a true one also. - -The sense of taste, which in the lowest animals is diffused equally -over the whole frame, is in ourselves and other higher creatures -concentrated in a special part of the body, namely the mouth, where the -food about to be swallowed is chewed and otherwise prepared beforehand -for the work of digestion. Now it is, of course, quite clear that -some sort of supervision must be exercised by the body over the kind -of food that is going to be put into it. Common experience teaches -us that prussic acid and pure opium are undesirable food stuffs in -large quantities; that raw spirits, petroleum, and red lead should be -sparingly partaken of by the judicious feeder; and that even green -fruit, the bitter end of cucumber, and the berries of deadly nightshade -are unsatisfactory articles of diet when continuously persisted in. -If, at the very outset of our digestive apparatus, we hadn’t a sort of -automatic premonitory adviser upon the kinds of food we ought or ought -not to indulge in, we should naturally commit considerable imprudences -in the way of eating and drinking—even more than we do at present. -Natural selection has therefore provided us with a fairly efficient -guide in this respect in the sense of taste, which is placed at the -very threshold, as it were, of our digestive mechanism. It is the duty -of taste to warn us against uneatable things, and to recommend to our -favorable attention eatable and wholesome ones; and, on the whole, -in spite of small occasional remissness, it performs its duty with -creditable success. - -Taste, however, is not equally distributed over the whole surface of -the tongue alike. There are three distinct regions or tracts, each -of which has to perform its own special office and function. The tip -of the tongue is concerned mainly with pungent and acrid tastes; the -middle portion is sensitive chiefly to sweets and bitters; while the -back or lower portion confines itself almost entirely to the flavors of -roast meats, butter, oils, and other rich or fatty substances. There -are very good reasons for this subdivision of faculties in the tongue, -the object being, as it were, to make each piece of food undergo three -separate examinations (like “smalls,” “mods,” and “greats” at Oxford), -which must be successively passed before it is admitted into full -participation in the human economy. The first examination, as we shall -shortly see, gets rid at once of substances which would be actively -and immediately destructive to the very tissues of the mouth and body; -the second discriminates between poisonous and chemically harmless -foodstuffs; and the third merely decides the minor question whether -the particular food is likely to prove then and there wholesome or -indigestible to the particular person. The sense of taste proceeds, -in fact, upon the principle of gradual selection and elimination; -it refuses first what is positively destructive, next what is more -remotely deleterious, and finally what is only undesirable or -over-luscious. - -When we want to assure ourselves, by means of taste, about an unknown -object—say a lump of some white stuff, which may be crystal, or glass, -or alum, or borax, or quartz, or rocksalt—we put the tip of the tongue -against it gingerly. If it begins to burn us, we draw it away more or -less rapidly, with an accompaniment in language strictly dependent -upon our personal habits and manners. The test we thus occasionally -apply, even in the civilised adult state, to unknown bodies is one that -is being applied every day and all day long by children and savages. -Unsophisticated humanity is constantly putting everything it sees up to -its mouth in a frank spirit of experimental inquiry as to its gustatory -properties. In civilised life, we find everything ready labelled and -assorted for us; we comparatively seldom require to roll the contents -of a suspicious bottle (in very small quantities) doubtfully upon the -tongue in order to discover whether it is pale sherry or Chili vinegar, -Dublin stout or mushroom ketchup. But in the savage state, from which, -geologically and biologically speaking, we have only just emerged, -bottles and labels do not exist. Primitive man, therefore, in his sweet -simplicity, has only two modes open before him for deciding whether the -things he finds are or are not strictly edible. The first thing he does -is to sniff at them, and smell being, as Mr. Herbert Spencer has well -put it, an anticipatory taste, generally gives him some idea of what -the thing is likely to prove. The second thing he does is to pop -it into his mouth, and proceed practically to examine its further -characteristics. - -Strictly speaking with the tip of the tongue one can’t really taste at -all. If you put a small drop of honey or of oil of bitter almonds on -that part of the mouth, you will find (no doubt to your great surprise) -that it produces no effect of any sort; you only taste it when it -begins slowly to diffuse itself, and reaches the true tasting region -in the middle distance. But if you put a little cayenne or mustard -on the same part, you will find that it bites you immediately—the -experiment should be tried sparingly—while, if you put it lower down -in the mouth you will swallow it almost without noticing the pungency -of the stimulant. The reason is, that the tip of the tongue is supplied -only with nerves which are really nerves of touch, not nerves of taste -proper; they belong to a totally different main branch, and they go -to a different centre in the brain, together with the very similar -threads which supply the nerves of smell for mustard and pepper. That -is why the smell and taste of these pungent substances are so much -alike, as everybody must have noticed; a good sniff at a mustard-pot -producing almost the same irritating effects as an incautious mouthful. -As a rule, we don’t accurately distinguish, it is true, between these -different regions of taste in the mouth in ordinary life; but that is -because we usually roll our food about instinctively, without paying -much attention to the particular part affected by it. Indeed, when one -is trying deliberate experiments in the subject, in order to test the -varying sensitiveness of the different parts to different substances, -it is necessary to keep the tongue quite dry, in order to isolate the -thing you are experimenting with, and prevent its spreading to all -parts of the mouth together. In actual practice this result is obtained -in a rather ludicrous manner—by blowing upon the tongue, between each -experiment, with a pair of bellows. To such undignified expedients does -the pursuit of science lead the ardent modern psychologist. These -domestic rivals of Dr. Forbes Winslow, the servants, who behold the -enthusiastic investigator alternately drying his tongue in this -ridiculous fashion, as if he were a blacksmith’s fire, and then -squeezing out a single drop of essence of pepper, vinegar, or beef-tea -from a glass syringe upon the dry surface, not unnaturally arrive at -the conclusion that master has gone stark mad, and that, in their -private opinion, it’s the microscope and the skeleton as has done it. - -Above all things, we don’t want to be flayed alive. So the kinds of -tastes discriminated by the tip of the tongue are the pungent, like -pepper, cayenne, and mustard; the astringent, like borax and alum; -the alkaline, like soda and potash; the acid, like vinegar and green -fruit; and the saline, like salt and ammonia. Almost all the bodies -likely to give rise to such tastes (or, more correctly, sensations -of touch in the tongue) are obviously unwholesome and destructive -in their character, at least when taken in large quantities. Nobody -wishes to drink nitric acid by the quart. The first business of this -part of the tongue is, therefore, to warn us emphatically against -caustic substances and corrosive acids—against vitriol and kerosene, -spirits of wine and ether, capsicums and burning leaves or roots, -such as those of the common English lords-and-ladies. Things of this -sort are immediately destructive to the very tissues of the tongue -and palate; if taken incautiously in too large doses, they burn the -skin off the roof of the mouth; and when swallowed they play havoc, -of course, with our internal arrangements. It is highly advisable, -therefore, to have an immediate warning of these extremely dangerous -substances, at the very outset of our feeding apparatus. - -This kind of taste hardly differs from touch or burning. The -sensibility of the tip of the tongue is only a very slight modification -of the sensibility possessed by the skin generally, and especially by -the inner folds over all delicate parts of the body. We all know that -common caustic burns us wherever it touches; and it burns the tongue, -only in a somewhat more marked manner. Nitric or sulphuric acid attacks -the fingers each after its own kind. A mustard plaster makes us tingle -almost immediately; and the action of mustard on the tongue hardly -differs, except in being more instantaneous and more discriminative. -Cantharides work in just the same way. If you cut a red pepper in -two and rub it on your neck it will sting you just as it does when -put into soup (this experiment, however, is best tried upon one’s -younger brother; if made personally, it hardly repays the trouble and -annoyance). Even vinegar and other acids, rubbed into the skin, are -followed by a slight tingling; while the effect of brandy, applied, -say, to the arms, is gently stimulating and pleasurable, somewhat -in the same way as when normally swallowed in conjunction with the -habitual seltzer. In short, most things which give rise to distinct -tastes when applied to the tip of the tongue, give rise to fainter -sensations when applied to the skin generally. And one hardly needs -to be reminded that pepper or vinegar placed (accidentally as a rule) -on the inner surface of the eyelids produces a very distinct and -unpleasant smart. - -The fact is, the liability to be chemically affected by pungent or -acid bodies is common to every part of the skin; but it is least felt -where the tough outer skin is thickest, and most felt where that skin -is thinnest, and the nerves are most plentifully distributed near the -surface. A mustard plaster would probably fail to draw at all on one’s -heel or the palm of one’s hand; while it is decidedly painful on one’s -neck or chest; and a mere speck of mustard inside the eyelid gives one -positive torture for hours together. Now the tip of the tongue is just -a part of one’s body specially set aside for this very object, provided -with an extremely thin skin, and supplied with an immense number of -nerves, on purpose so as to be easily affected by all such pungent, -alkaline, or spirituous substances. Sir Wilfrid Lawson would probably -conclude that it was deliberately designed by Providence to warn us -against a wicked indulgence in the brandy and seltzer aforesaid. - -At first sight it might seem as though there were hardly enough of such -pungent and fiery things in existence to make it worth while for us to -be provided with a special mechanism for guarding against them. That is -true enough, no doubt, as regards our modern civilized life; though, -even now, it is perhaps just as well that our children should have an -internal monitor (other than conscience) to dissuade them immediately -from indiscriminate indulgence in photographic chemicals, the contents -of stray medicine bottles, and the best dried West India chilies. But -in an earlier period of progress, and especially in tropical countries -(where the Darwinians have now decided the human race made its first -_début_ upon this or any other stage), things were very different -indeed. Pungent and poisonous plants and fruits abounded on every -side. We have all of us in our youth been taken in by some too cruelly -waggish companion, who insisted upon making us eat the bright, glossy -leaves of the common English arum, which without look pretty and juicy -enough, but within are full of the concentrated essence of pungency -and profanity. Well, there are hundreds of such plants, even in cold -climates, to tempt the eyes and poison the veins of unsuspecting cattle -or childish humanity. There is buttercup, so horribly acrid that cows -carefully avoid it in their closest cropped pastures; and yet your cow -is not usually a too dainty animal. There is aconite, the deadly poison -with which Dr. Lamson removed his troublesome relatives. There is -baneberry, whose very name sufficiently describes its dangerous nature. -There are horseradish, and stinging rocket, and biting wall-pepper, -and still smarter water-pepper, and wormwood, and nightshade, and -spurge, and hemlock, and half a dozen equally unpleasant weeds. All of -these have acquired their pungent and poisonous properties, just as -nettles have acquired their sting, and thistles their thorns, in order -to prevent animals from browsing upon them and destroying them. And -the animals in turn have acquired a very delicate sense of pungency -on purpose to warn them beforehand of the existence of such dangerous -and undesirable qualities in the plants which they might otherwise be -tempted incautiously to swallow. - -In tropical woods, where our “hairy quadrumanous ancestor” (Darwinian -for the primæval monkey, from whom we are presumably descended) used -playfully to disport himself, as yet unconscious of his glorious -destiny as the remote progenitor of Shakespeare, Milton, and the late -Mr. Peace—in tropical woods, such acid or pungent fruits and plants -are particularly common, and correspondingly annoying. The fact is, our -primitive forefather and all the other monkeys are, or were, confirmed -fruit-eaters. But to guard against their depredations a vast number -of tropical fruits and nuts have acquired disagreeable or fiery rinds -and shells, which suffice to deter the bold aggressor. It may not be -nice to get your tongue burnt with a root or fruit, but it is at least -a great deal better than getting poisoned; and, roughly speaking, -pungency in external nature exactly answers to the rough gaudy labels -which some chemists paste on bottles containing poisons. It means to -say, “This fruit or leaf, if you eat it in any quantities, will kill -you.” That is the true explanation of capsicums, pimento, colocynth, -croton oil, the upas tree, and the vast majority of bitter, acrid, -or fiery fruits and leaves. If we had to pick up our own livelihood, -as our naked ancestors had to do, from roots, seeds, and berries, -we should far more readily appreciate this simple truth. We should -know that a great many more plants than we now suspect are bitter or -pungent, and therefore poisonous. Even in England we are familiar -enough with such defences as those possessed by the outer rind of the -walnut; but the tropical cashewnut has a rind so intensely acrid that -it blisters the lips and fingers instantaneously, in the same way -as cantharides would do. I believe that on the whole, taking nature -throughout, more fruits and nuts are poisonous, or intensely bitter, or -very fiery, than are sweet, luscious, and edible. - -“But,” says that fidgety person, the hypothetical objector (whom one -always sets up for the express purpose of promptly knocking him down -again), “if it be the business of the forepart of the tongue to warn us -against pungent and acrid substances, how comes it that we purposely -use such things as mustard, pepper, curry-powder, and vinegar?” Well, -in themselves all these things are, strictly speaking, bad for us; -but in small quantities they act as agreeable stimulants; and we take -care in preparing most of them to get rid of the most objectionable -properties. Moreover, we use them, not as foods, but merely as -condiments. One drop of oil of capsicum is enough to kill a man, if -taken undiluted; but in actual practice we buy it in such a very -diluted form that comparatively little harm arises from using it. -Still, very young children dislike all these violent stimulants, even -in small quantities; they won’t touch mustard, pepper, or vinegar, and -they recoil at once from wine or spirits. It is only by slow degrees -that we learn these unnatural tastes, as our nerves get blunted and -our palates jaded; and we all know that the old Indian who can eat -nothing but dry curries, devilled biscuits, anchovy paste, pepper-pot, -mulligatawny soup, Worcestershire sauce, preserved ginger, hot pickles, -fiery sherry, and neat cognac, is also a person with no digestion, a -fragmentary liver, and very little chance of getting himself accepted -by any safe and solvent insurance office. Throughout, the warning -in itself is a useful one; it is we who foolishly and persistently -disregard it. Alcohol, for example, tells us at once that it is bad -for us; yet we manage so to dress it up with flavoring matters and -dilute it with water that we overlook the fiery character of the spirit -itself. But that alcohol is in itself a bad thing (when freely indulged -in) has been so abundantly demonstrated in the history of mankind that -it hardly needs any further proof. - -The middle region of the tongue is the part with which we experience -sensations of taste proper—that is to say, of sweetness and -bitterness. In a healthy, natural state all sweet things are pleasant -to us, and all bitters (even if combined with sherry) unpleasant. The -reason for this is easy enough to understand. It carries us back at -once into those primæval tropical forests where our “hairy ancestor” -used to diet himself upon the fruits of the earth in due season. -Now, almost all edible fruits, roots, and tubers contain sugar; and -therefore the presence of sugar is, in the wild condition, as good a -rough test of whether anything is good to eat as one could easily find. -In fact, the argument cuts both ways: edible fruits are sweet because -they are intended for man and other animals to eat; and man and other -animals have a tongue pleasurably affected by sugar because sugary -things in nature are for them in the highest degree edible. Our early -progenitors formed their taste upon oranges, mangoes, bananas, and -grapes; upon sweet potatoes, sugar-cane, dates, and wild-honey. There -is scarcely anything fitted for human food in the vegetable world (and -our earliest ancestors were most undoubted vegetarians), which does -not contain sugar in considerable quantities. In temperate climates -(where man is but a recent intruder), we have taken, it is true, to -regarding wheaten bread as the staff of life; but in our native tropics -enormous populations still live almost exclusively upon plantains, -bananas, breadfruit, yams, sweet potatoes, dates, cocoanuts, melons, -cassava, pineapples, and figs. Our nerves have been adapted to the -circumstances of our early life as a race in tropical forests; and we -still retain a marked liking for sweets of every sort. Not content with -our strawberries, raspberries, gooseberries, currants, apples, pears, -cherries, plums, and other northern fruits, we ransack the world for -dates, figs, raisins, and oranges. Indeed, in spite of our acquired -meat-eating propensities, it may be fairly said that fruits and seeds -(including wheat, rice, peas, beans, and other grains and pulse) still -form by far the most important element in the foodstuffs of human -populations generally. - -But besides the natural sweets, we have also taken to producing -artificial ones. Has any housewife ever realised the alarming condition -of cookery in the benighted generations before the invention of sugar? -It is really almost too appalling to think about. So many things that -we now look upon as all but necessaries—cakes, puddings, made dishes, -confectionery, preserves, sweet biscuits, jellies, cooked fruits, -tarts, and so forth—were then practically quite impossible. Fancy -attempting nowadays to live a single day without sugar; no tea, no -coffee, no jam, no pudding, no cake, no sweets, no hot toddy before one -goes to bed; the bare idea of it is too terrible. And yet that was -really the abject condition of all the civilised world up to the middle -ages. Horace’s punch was sugarless and lemonless; the gentle Virgil -never tasted the congenial cup of afternoon tea; and Socrates went from -his cradle to his grave without ever knowing the flavor of peppermint -bull’s eyes. How the children managed to spend their Saturday _as_, or -their weekly _obolus_, is a profound mystery. To be sure, people had -honey; but honey is rare, dear, and scanty; it can never have filled -one quarter the place that sugar fills in our modern affections. Try -for a moment to realise drinking honey with one’s whiskey-and-water, -or doing the year’s preserving with a pot of best Narbonne, and you -get at once a common measure of the difference between the two as -practical sweeteners. Nowadays, we get sugar from cane and beetroot in -abundance, while sugar-maples and palm-trees of various sorts afford -a considerable supply to remoter countries. But the childhood of the -little Greeks and Romans must have been absolutely unlighted by a -single ray of joy from chocolate creams or Everton toffee. - -The consequence of this excessive production of sweets in modern times -is, of course, that we have begun to distrust the indications afforded -us by the sense of taste in this particular as to the wholesomeness -of various objects. We can mix sugar with anything we like, whether -it had sugar in it to begin with or otherwise; and by sweetening and -flavoring we can give a false palatableness to even the worst and most -indigestible rubbish, such as plaster-of-Paris, largely sold under the -name of sugared almonds to the ingenuous youth of two hemispheres. -But in untouched nature the test rarely or never fails. As long as -fruits are unripe and unfit for human food, they are green and sour; -as soon as they ripen they become soft and sweet, and usually acquire -some bright color as a sort of advertisement of their edibility. In -the main, bar the accidents of civilisation, whatever is sweet is good -to eat—nay more, is meant to be eaten; it is only our own perverse -folly that makes us sometimes think all nice things bad for us, and all -wholesome things nasty. In a state of nature, the exact opposite is -really the case. One may observe, too, that children, who are literally -young savages in more senses than one, stand nearer to the primitive -feeling in this respect than grown-up people. They unaffectedly like -sweets; adults, who have grown more accustomed to the artificial meat -diet, don’t as a rule, care much for puddings, cakes, and made dishes. -(May I venture parenthetically to add, any appearance to the contrary -notwithstanding, that I am not a vegetarian, and that I am far from -desiring to bring down upon my devoted head the imprecation pronounced -against the rash person who would rob a poor man of his beer. It is -quite possible to believe that vegetarianism was the starting-point of -the race, without wishing to consider it also as the goal; just as it -is quite possible to regard clothes as purely artificial products of -civilization, without desiring personally to return to the charming -simplicity of the Garden of Eden.) - -Bitter things in nature at large, on the contrary, are almost -invariably poisonous. Strychnia, for example, is intensely bitter, -and it is well known that life cannot be supported on strychnia alone -for more than a few hours. Again, colocynth and aloes are far from -being wholesome food stuffs, for a continuance; and the bitter end of -cucumber does not conduce to the highest standard of good living. The -bitter matter in decaying apples is highly injurious when swallowed, -which it isn’t likely to be by anybody who ever tastes it. Wormwood and -walnut-shells contain other bitter and poisonous principles; absinthe, -which is made from one of them, is a favorite slow poison with the -fashionable young men of Paris, who wish to escape prematurely from “Le -monde où l’on s’ennuie.” But prussic acid is the commonest component in -all natural bitters, being found in bitter almonds, apple pippins, the -kernels of mango-stones, and many other seeds and fruits. Indeed, one -may say roughly that the object of nature generally is to prevent the -actual seeds of edible fruits from being eaten and digested; and for -this purpose, while she stores the pulp with sweet juices, she encloses -the seed itself in hard stony coverings, and makes it nasty with bitter -essences. Eat an orange pip, and you will promptly observe how -effectual is this arrangement. As a rule, the outer rind of nuts is -bitter, and the inner kernel of edible fruits. The tongue thus warns us -immediately against bitter things, as being poisonous, and prevents us, -automatically, from swallowing them. - -“But how is it,” asks our objector again, “that so many poisons are -tasteless, or even, like sugar of lead, pleasant to the palate?” -The answer is (you see, we knock him down again, as usual) because -these poisons are themselves for the most part artificial products; -they do not occur in a state of nature, at least in man’s ordinary -surroundings. Almost every poisonous thing that we are really liable to -meet with in the wild state we are warned against at once by the sense -of taste; but of course it would be absurd to suppose that natural -selection could have produced a mode of warning us against poisons -which have never before occurred in human experience. One might just -as well expect that it should have rendered us dynamite-proof, or have -given us a skin like the hide of a rhinoceros to protect us against the -future contingency of the invention of rifles. - -Sweets and bitters are really almost the only tastes proper, almost -the only ones discriminated by this central and truly gustatory -region of the tongue and palate. Most so-called flavorings will be -found on strict examination to be nothing more than mixtures with -these of certain smells or else of pungent, salty, or alkaline -matters, distinguished as such by the tip of the tongue. For instance, -paradoxical as it sounds to say so, cinnamon has really no taste at -all, but only a smell. Nobody will ever believe this on first hearing, -but nothing on earth is easier than to put it to the test. Take a small -piece of cinnamon, hold your nose tightly, rather high up, between -the thumb and finger, and begin chewing it. You will find that it is -absolutely tasteless; you are merely chewing a perfectly insipid bit -of bark. Then let go your nose, and you will find immediately that it -“tastes” strongly, though in reality it is only the perfume from it -that you now permit to rise into the smelling-chamber in the nose. So, -again, cloves have only a pungent taste and a peculiar smell, and the -same is the case more or less with almost all distinctive flavorings. -When you come to find of what they are made up, they consist generally -of sweets or bitters, intermixed with certain ethereal perfumes, or -with pungent or acid tastes, or with both or several such together. -In this way, a comparatively small number of original elements, -variously combined, suffice to make up the whole enormous mass of -recognisably different tastes and flavors. - -The third and lowest part of the tongue and throat is the seat of -those peculiar tastes to which Professor Bain, the great authority -upon this important philosophical subject, has given the names of -relishes and disgusts. It is here, chiefly, that we taste animal food, -fats, butters, oils, and the richer class of vegetables and made -dishes. If we like them, we experience a sensation which may be called -a relish, and which induces one to keep rolling the morsel farther -down the throat, till it passes at last beyond the region of our -voluntary control. If we don’t like them, we get the sensation which -may be called a disgust, and which is very different from the mere -unpleasantness of excessively pungent or bitter things. It is far less -of an intellectual and far more of a physical and emotional feeling. We -say, and say rightly, of such things that we find it hard to swallow -them; a something within us (of a very tangible nature) seems to rise -up bodily and protest against them. As a very good example of this -experience, take one’s first attempt to swallow cod-liver oil. Other -things may be unpleasant or unpalatable, but things of this class are -in the strictest sense nasty and disgusting. - -The fact is, the lower part of the tongue is supplied with nerves in -close sympathy with the digestion. If the food which has been passed by -the two previous examiners is found here to be simple and digestible, -it is permitted to go on unchallenged; if it is found to be too rich, -too bilious, or too indigestible, a protest is promptly entered against -it, and if we are wise we will immediately desist from eating any more -of it. It is here that the impartial tribunal of nature pronounces -definitely against roast goose, mince pies, _pâté de foie gras_, sally -lunn, muffins and crumpets, and creamy puddings. It is here, too, that -the slightest taint in meat, milk, or butter is immediately detected; -that rancid pastry from the pastrycook’s is ruthlessly exposed, and -that the wiles of the fishmonger are set at naught by the judicious -palate. It is the special duty, in fact, of this last examiner to -discover, not whether food is positively destructive, not whether it is -poisonous or deleterious in nature, but merely whether it is then and -there digestible or undesirable. - -As our state of health varies greatly from time to time, however, so -do the warnings of this last sympathetic adviser change and flicker. -Sweet things are always sweet, and bitter things always bitter; vinegar -is always sour, and ginger always hot in the mouth, too, whatever our -state of health or feeling; but our taste for roast loin of mutton, -high game, salmon cutlets, and Gorgonzola cheese varies immensely -from time to time, with the passing condition of our health and -digestion. In illness, and especially in sea-sickness, one gets the -taste carried to the extreme: you may eat grapes or suck an orange in -the chops of the Channel, but you do not feel warmly attached to the -steward who offers you a basin of greasy ox-tail, or consoles you with -promises of ham sandwiches in half a minute. Under those too painful -conditions it is the very light, fresh, and stimulating things that -one can most easily swallow—champagne, soda-water, strawberries, -peaches, not lobster salad, sardines on toast, green Chartreuse, or hot -brandy-and-water. On the other hand, in robust health, and when hungry -with exercise, you can eat fat pork with relish on a Scotch hillside, -or dine off fresh salmon three days running without inconvenience. Even -a Spanish stew, with plenty of garlic in it, and floating in olive -oil, tastes positively delicious after a day’s mountaineering in the -Pyrenees. - -The healthy popular belief, still surviving in spite of cookery, that -our likes and dislikes are the best guide to what is good for us, finds -its justification in this fact, that whatever is relished will prove on -the average wholesome, and whatever rouses disgust will prove on the -whole indigestible. Nothing can be more wrong, for example, than to -make children eat fat when they don’t want it. A healthy child likes -fat, and eats as much of it as he can get. If a child shows signs of -disgust at fat, that proves that it is of a bilious temperament, and it -ought never to be forced into eating it against its will. Most of us -are bilious in after life just because we were compelled to eat rich -food in childhood, which we felt instinctively was unsuitable for us. -We might still be indulging with impunity in thick turtle, canvas-back -ducks, devilled white-bait, meringues, and Nesselrode puddings, if we -hadn’t been so persistently overdosed in our earlier years with things -that we didn’t want and knew were indigestible. - -Of course, in our existing modern cookery, very few simple and -uncompounded tastes are still left to us; everything is so mixed up -together that only by an effort of deliberate experiment can one -discover what are the special effects of special tastes upon the tongue -and palate. Salt is mixed with almost everything we eat—_sal sapit -omnia_—and pepper or cayenne is nearly equally common. Butter is put -into the peas, which have been previously adulterated by being boiled -with mint; and cucumber is unknown except in conjunction with oil -and vinegar. This makes it comparatively difficult for us to realise -the distinctness of the elements which go to make up most tastes as -we actually experience them. Moreover, a great many eatable objects -have hardly any taste of their own, properly speaking, but only a -feeling of softness or hardness, or glutinousness in the mouth, mainly -observed in the act of chewing them. For example, plain boiled rice is -almost wholly insipid; but even in its plainest form salt has usually -been boiled with it, and in practice we generally eat it with sugar, -preserves, curry, or some other strongly flavored condiment. Again, -plain boiled tapioca and sago (in water) are as nearly tasteless as -anything can be; they merely yield a feeling of gumminess; but milk, in -which they are oftenest cooked, gives them a relish (in the sense here -restricted), and sugar, eggs, cinnamon, or nutmeg are usually added -by way of flavoring. Even turbot has hardly any taste proper, except -in the glutinous skin, which has a faint relish; the epicure values -it rather because of its softness, its delicacy, and its light flesh. -Gelatine by itself is merely very swallowable, we must mix sugar, wine, -lemon-juice, and other flavorings in order to make it into good jelly. -Salt, spices, essences, vanilla, vinegar, pickles, capers, ketchups, -sauces, chutneys, lime-juice, curry, and all the rest are just our -civilised expedients for adding the pleasure of pungency and acidity -to naturally insipid foods, by stimulating the nerves of touch in the -tongue, just as sugar is our tribute to the pure gustatory sense, and -oil, butter, bacon, lard, and the various fats used in frying to the -sense of relish which forms the last element in our compound taste. -A boiled sole is all very well when one is just convalescent, but in -robust health we demand the delights of egg and bread-crumb, which are, -after all only the vehicle for the appetising grease. Plain boiled -macaroni may pass muster in the unsophisticated nursery, but in the -pampered dining-room it requires the aid of toasted parmesan. Good -modern cookery is the practical result of centuries of experience in -this direction; the final flower of ages of evolution, devoted to the -equalisation of flavors in all human food. Think of the generations of -fruitless experiment that must have passed before mankind discovered -that mint sauce (itself a cunning compound of vinegar and sugar) ought -to be eaten with leg of lamb, that roast goose required a corrective in -the shape of apple, and that while a pre-established harmony existed -between salmon and lobster, oysters were ordained beforehand by nature -as the proper, accompaniment of boiled cod. Whenever I reflect upon -such things, I become at once a good Positivist, and offer up praise -in my own private chapel to the Spirit of Humanity which has slowly -perfected these profound rules of good living.—_Cornhill Magazine._ - - - - -BYGONE CELEBRITIES AND LITERARY RECOLLECTIONS. - -BY CHARLES MACKAY, LL.D. - - -III. - -NAPOLEON III.—LORD WILLIAM PITT LENNOX.—ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. - - -It was during the unsettled times that preceded the great French -Revolution of 1848—I think it was in January of that year—that one -of Mr. Rogers’s breakfasts was attended by Prince Louis Napoleon -Buonaparte, afterwards Napoleon III.; Dr. Whately, the Protestant -Archbishop of Dublin; Lord William Pitt Lennox, the son of the Duke -of Richmond (who distinguished himself at the battle of Waterloo, and -died many years afterwards as Governor-General of Canada); and myself. -I was previously acquainted with all these gentlemen, and had met -the Prince a few days previously at the house of Mr. John MacGregor, -formerly Secretary of the Board of Trade, and member of Parliament for -Glasgow. The Prince, who was then forty years of age, had long been a -resident in London as an exile, spoke English exceedingly well, had -thoroughly studied the working of the British constitution, and had -learned to respect and apparently to love the English people. He was -very taciturn and undemonstrative; his dull grey eyes seemed to have -little speculation in them, and to have been given to him, if such -an expression may be used, to look inwards upon himself rather than -outwards upon the world. They brightened up at rare intervals when -anything was said that particularly interested him. On this occasion -the talk of the breakfast table turned a good deal upon French politics -and the probability, more or less imminent, of a revolutionary outbreak -in Paris, consequent upon the unwise opposition of Louis Philippe -and his too obsequious minister, M. Guizot, to the question of the -extension of the franchise and the reform of the French Parliament. -As I had within a fortnight or three weeks returned from Paris, where -I had associated with some leading liberal politicians, among others -with Béranger the poet and the Abbé de Lamennais, my opinion upon the -situation was asked, I think, by Mr. Rogers, and whether I thought -the agitation would subside. “Not,” I said, “unless the King yields.” -“He won’t yield, I think,” said the Prince; “he does not understand -the seriousness of the case.” I told the Prince that Béranger, who -knew the temper and sympathised with the opinions of the people, had -predicted the establishment of a Republic, consequent upon the downfall -of the monarchy, within less than a twelvemonth. Lamennais did not -give the King so long a lease of power, but foresaw revolution within -six months. The Prince remarked that “if there were barricades in the -streets of Paris, such as those by which his way to the throne was won -in 1830, the King would not give orders to disperse the mob by force -of arms.” “Why do you think so?” asked Mr. Rogers. “The King is a weak -man, a merciful man. He does not like bloodshed. I often think he was -a fool not to have had me shot after the affair of Strasburg. Had our -cases been reversed I know that I would have had him shot without -mercy,” I thought little of this remark at the time, but in after -years, when the exiled Prince became the powerful emperor, my mind -often reverted to this conversation, and I thought that if King Louis -Philippe had done what the Prince considered he ought to have done—and -as he would have been fully justified by law, civil and military, as -well as by state policy, in doing—the whole course of European history -would have been changed. Personally, the Prince was highly esteemed by -all who knew him. Stern as a politician, and in pursuit of the great -object of his ambition, as in the famous _coup d’état_ of 1851 by -which he raised himself at a bound from the comparatively humble and -uncertain chair of a President to the most conspicuous imperial throne -in the world—he was, in private life, of a singularly amiable temper. -He never forgot in his prosperity the friends or even the acquaintances -of his adversity; never ceased to remember any benefit that had been -conferred upon him, and not only to be grateful for it, but to show -his gratitude by acts of kindness and generosity, if the kindness or -generosity could be of benefit to the fortunes of the persons on whom -it was bestowed. When he sought the hand in marriage of a Princess of -the House of Austria, and the honor was declined for the occult and -unwhispered reason that he was a parvenu and an upstart, and that his -throne was at the mercy of a revolution (and what throne is not?), he -married for pure love and affection a noble lady of inferior rank, and -raised her to a throne which she filled for many years with more grace -and splendor than any contemporary sovereign born in the purple of -royalty had ever exhibited, Queen Victoria alone excepted. - -The Prince thoroughly understood the character of the French people. -Napoleon I. had called the English a nation of shopkeepers. Napoleon -III. knew that the French were entitled in a far greater degree than -the English to that depreciatory epithet. He knew that in their hearts -they did not care so much for liberty and fraternity as they did for -“equality,”—that what they wanted in the first place was peace, so -that trade and industry might have a chance to prosper; and secondly, -that France as a nation might be the predominant power in Europe. For -the first reason, they required a master who would maintain order; for -the second reason, they idolised the name of the first Napoleon. These -two things were patent to the mind of Napoleon III., and formed the -keystone of his domestic and foreign policy. - -When London, about three months after the breakfast at Mr. Rogers’, was -threatened, on April 10, 1848, by an insurrectionary mob of Chartists, -under the guidance of a half-crazy Irishman, named Feargus O’Connor, -who afterwards died in a lunatic asylum, the Prince volunteered to act -as a special constable, for the preservation of the peace, in common -with many thousands of respectable professional men, merchants, and -tradesmen. I met him in Trafalgar Square, armed with the truncheon -of a policeman. On this occasion, the Duke of Wellington, then -commander-in-chief of the British army, had taken the precaution to -station the military in sufficient numbers at all the chief strategical -points of the metropolis ready, though concealed from the notice of -the multitude, to act on an emergency. Happily their services were not -required. The sovereign was popular; the upper and middle classes were -unanimous; a large section of the laboring classes had no sympathy with -Chartism, and the display of the civic force, with bludgeons and staves -only, without firearms of any kind, was quite sufficient to overawe the -rioters. I stopped for a minute to exchange greetings with the Prince, -and said I did not think from all that I had heard that the Chartists -would resort to violence, and that their march through the streets -would be orderly. The Prince was of the same opinion, and passed upon -his beat among other police special constables in front of the National -Gallery. - -As Lord William Lennox was of the breakfast party, I took the -opportunity to ask him a question with regard to a disputed point. -I had lately visited Brussels, the city in which I had passed my -school-boy days, and which was consequently endeared to my mind by -many youthful associations. The mother of Lord William, the beautiful -Duchess of Richmond, had given a great ball on the night preceding the -battle of Waterloo, in June, 1815, at which Lord William, then in his -sixteenth year, was present. Every lover of poetry will remember the -splendid description of this ball and of the subsequent battle which -occurs in the third canto of Byron’s “Childe Harold.” The passage is -unsurpassed in any language for the vigor, the picturesqueness, and the -magnificence of its thought and diction, and in its relation to one of -the most stupendous events in modern history. - - There was a sound of revelry by night, - And Belgium’s capital had gather’d then - Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright - The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men; - A thousand hearts beat happily; and when - Music arose with its voluptuous swell, - Soft eyes look’d love to eyes which spake again, - And all went merry as a marriage bell; - But hush! hark: a deep sound strikes like a rising knell. - -It has been generally asserted and believed that the ball was given -by the duchess in the grand hall of the stately Hôtel de Ville in the -Grande Place, and when in Brussels I heard the assertion repeated by -many people, though denied by others. One old citizen, who remembered -the battle well, affirmed it to have been at the Hôtel de Ville, which -he saw brilliantly lighted up for the occasion, and passed among the -crowd of equipages that filled the Grande Place, when setting down -and taking up the ladies who graced the assembly with their presence. -Another equally old and trustworthy inhabitant declared that to his -personal knowledge the ball was given in the “Palais d’Aes,” a large -building that adjoins the palace of the King of the Belgians, and is -now used as a barrack; while a third affirmed it to have been held -in the handsome hotel, adjoining the Chamber of Deputies, which was -formerly occupied by Sir Charles Bagot, the British Ambassador to -Brussels and the Hague in 1830. Thinking there could be no better -authority than one who was present on the occasion, one, moreover, -who was so nearly allied to the giver of the entertainment, I asked -Lord William to decide the point. He replied at once that all these -assertions were unfounded. His father, the Duke, took a large house -in a back street, called the “Rue de la Blanchisserie” (street of the -laundry), abutting on the boulevard, opposite the present Botanic -Garden, and that the ball took place in the not extraordinarily -spacious drawing-room of that mansion. He said, moreover, that the -lines— - - Within the window’d niche of that high hall - Sat Brunswick’s fated chieftain, - -conveyed an idea of magnitude which the so-called “high hall” did not -in reality possess. - -Archbishop Whately here said: “If we may be permitted without breach of -good manners to speak of Waterloo in the presence of Prince Napoleon, -I may remark that the correction of the very minor error just made -by Lord William, though exceedingly interesting is not of great -importance. Though contradicted again and again, the report still -circulates, and is still believed, that the Duke of Wellington was -surprised on the eve of the battle of Waterloo by the rapid march of -the emperor, and was thus taken at a disadvantage.” - -“I never believed the report,” said the Prince, “though I have my own -views about the battle. I visited Waterloo in the winter of 1832, with -what feelings you may imagine.” - -“The truth as regards the alleged surprise,” said the Archbishop, -“appears to be, as Lord Byron explained in a note to the passage in -‘Childe Harold,’ that the Duke had received intelligence of Napoleon’s -march, and at first had the idea of requesting the Duchess of Richmond -to countermand the ball; but, on reflection, considered it desirable -that the people of Brussels should be kept in ignorance of the course -of events. He, therefore, desired the duchess to let the ball proceed, -and gave commands to all the general officers who had been invited -to appear at it, each taking care to quit the room at ten o’clock -quietly, and without giving any notification, except to each of the -under officers, to join their respective divisions _en route_. There is -no doubt that many of the subalterns who were not in the secret were -surprised at the suddenness of the order.” - -“I heard, when I visited the field of Waterloo less than a month ago,” -I said, “that many of the officers joined the march in their dancing -shoes, so little time was left for them to obey orders.” - -“It has been proved to the satisfaction of every real inquirer into -the facts,” said Mr. Rogers, “that as far as the duke himself and -his superior officers were concerned, there was no surprise in the -matter. You know the daring young lady, who presumed on her beauty to -be forgiven for her impertinence, who asked the Duke point-blank at an -evening party whether he had not been surprised at Waterloo. ‘Certainly -not!’ he replied ‘but I am now.’” - -“A proper rebuke,” said Lord William, “I hope the lady felt it.” - -Byron, in the beautiful stanzas to which allusion has been made, -describes the wood of Soignes, erroneously called Soignies, in the -environs of Brussels, a portion of the great Forest of Ardennes: - - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, - Dewy with Nature’s tear-drops as they pass. - Grieving, if aught inanimate e’er grieves, - Over the unreturning brave. - -In a note to this passage he speaks of Ardennes as famous in -Boiardo’s “Orlando,” as immortal in Shakespeare’s “As You Like It.” -Whatever may have been the case with Boiardo, it is all but certain -that Shakespeare’s “Arden” was not the Ardennes near Brussels, -but the forest of Arden, in Warwickshire, near his native town of -Stratford-on-Avon. He frequented this “Arden” in his youth, perhaps in -chasing the wild deer of Sir Thomas Lucy, perhaps in love-rambles with -Anne Hathaway. Portions of this English forest still remain, containing -in a now enclosed park—the property of a private gentleman—some -venerable oak trees, one of which as I roughly measured it with my -walking-stick is upwards of thirty feet in circumference within a yard -of the ground. This tree, with several others still standing, must -have been old in the days of Shakespeare; and in the shadow of which -he himself may have reclined in the happy days ere he went to London -in search of fame and fortune. “Arden,” spelled Ardennes in French, -is a purely Celtic word, meaning the high forest, from _Ard_, high, -and _Airdean_, heights. The English district is still called “Arden,” -and the small town of Henley, within its boundaries, is described as -Henley-in-Arden to distinguish it from the many other Henleys that -exist in England. - -Lord William Lennox married the once celebrated cantatrice, Miss Wood, -from whom he was divorced. He was a somewhat voluminous author of -third-rate novels, and a frequent contributor to the periodical press. -He died in 1880, in his eighty-first year. - -Dr. Whately, Archbishop of Dublin, was the author of a very able -treatise on Logic and Rhetoric, long the text-book of the schools; -and also of a once famous _jeu d’esprit_ entitled “Historic Doubts -concerning Napoleon Buonaparte,” in which he proved irrefragably by -false logic likely to convince idle and unthinking readers, that -no such person as Napoleon Buonaparte ever did exist or could have -existed. In this clever little work he ridiculed, under the guise of -seeming impartiality and critical acumen, the many attempts that had -been made, especially by French writers of the school of Voltaire, to -prove that Jesus Christ was a purely imaginary character, as much a -myth as the gods of Grecian and Roman mythology. Mr. Greville, in his -“Memoirs of the Courts of George III., George IV., and William IV.,” -records that he met Whately, Archbishop of Dublin, at a dinner-party, -and describes him “as a very ordinary man in appearance and -conversation, with something pretentious in his talk, and as telling -stories without point.” Nevertheless he admitted him to be “a very able -man.” My opinion of the Archbishop was far more favorable. The first -thing that struck me with regard to him was the clear precision of -his reasoning, as befitted a man who had written with such undoubted -authority on Logic and Rhetoric, and the second his rare tolerance for -all conscientious differences of opinion on religious matters. Two -years previously I had sat next to him on the platform of the inaugural -meeting held by the members of The Athenæum at Manchester in support of -that institution. Several bishops had been invited, and had signified -their intention to be present, but all of them except Dr. Whately had -withdrawn as soon as it was publicly announced that Mr. George Dawson, -a popular lecturer and Unitarian preacher of advanced opinions, was -to address the audience. Mr. Dawson, who was at the time a very young -man, spoke with considerable eloquence and power, and impressed the -audience favorably, the Archbishop included. “I think,” said Dr. -Whately, turning to me at the conclusion of the speech, “that my -reverend brethren would have taken no harm from being present to-night, -and more than one of them, whom I could name, would be all the better -if they could preach with as much power and spirit, as this boy has -displayed in his speech.” On another occasion, when I was in Dublin in -1849. I heard that several ultra-orthodox Protestant clergymen in the -city had been heard to express regret that Dr. Whately was so lax in -his religious belief, and set so bad an example to his clergy. I asked -in what manner, and was told in reply that he had publicly spoken of -Dr. Daniel Murray, the Roman Catholic Archbishop of Dublin, then in his -81st year, as “a good man, a very good man,” adding the hope that he -himself should be found worthy to meet Murray in Heaven. - -This large-minded prelate died in 1863, in his seventy-seventh year. - - -IV. - -THE REV. HENRY HART MILMAN—THE REV. ALEXANDER DYCE—THOMAS MILLER. - -It was in the summer of 1844, a few days after the interment in -Westminster Abbey of Thomas Campbell, the poet, author of the -“Pleasures of Hope” and many other celebrated poems, that I received -an invitation to breakfast with Samuel Rogers, to meet the Rev. Dr. -Milman, the officiating clergyman on that solemn occasion. There were -two other guests besides myself; the Rev. Alexander Dyce, well known -as a commentator on Shakespeare, and Mr. Thomas Miller—originally a -basket-maker—who had acquired considerable reputation as a poet and -novelist and a hard-working man of letters. - -Dr. Milman was at the time rector of St. Margaret’s—the little church -that stands close to Westminster Abbey and interferes greatly with the -view of that noble cathedral. He was afterwards Dean of St. Paul’s, and -was known to fame as the author of the successful tragedy of “Fazio,” -of many poetical volumes of no great merit, and of a “History of the -Jews” and a “History of Christianity,” both of which still retain their -reputation. - -The conversation turned principally on the funeral of the poet, at -which both Mr. Dyce and myself had been present. The pall-bearers were -among the most distinguished men of the time, for their rank, their -talent, and their high literary and political positions. They included -Sir Robert Peel, Lord Brougham, Lord Campbell, the Duke of Argyll, -the Earl of Strangford, and the Duke of Buccleuch, the last named the -generous nobleman—noble in nature as well as in rank—who had offered, -when a lad in his teens, to pay the debts of his illustrious namesake, -Sir Walter Scott, when the great novelist had fallen upon evil days -in the full flush of his fame and popularity. A long procession of -authors, sculptors, artists, and other distinguished men followed the -coffin to the grave. Many Polish exiles were conspicuous among them. As -Dr. Milman pronounced the affecting words of the burial service, “ashes -to ashes, dust to dust,” a Polish gentleman made his way through the -ranks of mourners, and drawing a handful of earth from a little basket -which he carried, exclaimed in a clear voice, “This is Polish earth for -the tomb of the friend of Poland,” and sprinkled it upon the coffin. -This dramatic incident recalled to my mind, as it no doubt did to that -of other spectators, Campbell’s unwearied exertions in the cause of -Poland, and of the indignant lines in the “Pleasures of Hope,” - - Hope for a season bade the world farewell, - And Freedom shriek’d when Kosciusko fell. - -Mr. Rogers, reminded, perhaps, of a grievance by the presence at the -breakfast table of Dr. Milman, seemed to brood over an injustice that -he thought had been done him with reference to the late poet. When -Campbell, under the pressure of some pecuniary difficulty, complained -of the scanty rewards of literature, and especially of poetry, Mr. -Rogers was reported to have recommended him to endeavor to procure -employment as a clerk. This was thought to be very unfeeling; but -on this occasion Mr. Rogers explained to the whole company that he -had been misunderstood, and that he had not meant any unkindness. “I -myself,” he said, “was a clerk in my early days, and never had to -depend upon poetry for my bread; and I only suggested that in Mr. -Campbell’s ‘case,’ and in that of every other literary man, it would be -much better if the writing of poetry were an amusement only and not a -business.” - -“No doubt,” said Mr. Dyce, “but men of genius are not always the -masters of their own youth, and cannot invariably choose their careers -or make choice of a profession which requires means and time to qualify -for it. You, for instance, Mr. Rogers, when a clerk, were clerk to your -father, and qualified yourself under his auspices for partnership in, -or succession to the management of, his prosperous bank. Mr. Campbell -had no such chances.” - -“It is a large question,” said Dr. Milman. “The love of literature in -a man of genius, rich or poor—especially if poor, is an all-absorbing -passion; and shapes his life, regret it as we may. Literature has -rewards more pleasant than those of money, pleasant though money -undoubtedly is. If money were to be the ‘be-all’ and ‘end-all’ of life, -it would be better to be a rich cheesemonger or butcher than a poor -author. But no high-spirited, intelligent, and ambitious youth could be -of this opinion and shape his life by it. Sensitive youths drift into -poetry, as prosaic and adventurous youths drift into the army or the -navy.” - -“The more’s the pity,” replied Mr. Rogers, “as by drifting into poetry -they too often drift into poverty and misery. I trust, however, you -will all understand that the idle and the malevolent gossips did, and -do me, gross unjustice when they say that I recommended Campbell to -accept a clerkship rather than continue to rely upon poetry. I never -thought of doing so. I merely expressed a general wish that every man -of genius, not born to wealth, should have a profession to rely upon -for his daily bread.” - -“A wish that all men would agree in,” said Mr. Dyce, “and that after -all had no particular or exclusive reference to Mr. Campbell. He did -not find the literature which he adorned utterly unprofitable. He -made money by his poetry and by his literary labor generally, besides -gaining a pension of three hundred pounds per annum on the Civil List, -and the society of all the most eminent men of his time, which he could -not have done as a cheesemonger or a butcher, however successful he -might have become in these pursuits.” - -“These are all truisms,” said Mr. Rogers, somewhat sharply, as if -annoyed. “What I complain of is that the world, the very ill-natured -world, should have spread abroad the ridiculous story that I -recommended Mr. Campbell, in his declining years, to apply for a -clerkship.” - -“I think no one believes that you did so,” said Dr. Milman, “or that -you could have done so. Your sympathy with men of letters is well known -and has been proved too often, not by mere words only, but by generous -deeds, for such a story to obtain credence.” - -“Falsehoods,” replied Mr. Rogers, still with a tone of bitterness, -“are not cripples. They run fast, and have more legs than a centipede. -I saw it stated in print the other day that I depreciate Shakespeare -and think him to have been over-rated. I know of no other foundation -for the libel than that I once quoted the opinion expressed of him by -Ben Jonson, his dearest friend and greatest admirer. Though Ben Jonson -called Shakespeare ‘the Swan of Avon,’ - - Soul of the age, - The applause, delight, and wonder of the stage, - -and affirmed that: - - He was not for an age, but for all Time, - -he did not hesitate to express the wish, in answer to one who boasted -that Shakespeare had never blotted a line, ‘would to Heaven he had -blotted a thousand.’ Ben Jonson saw the spots on the glorious face of -the sun of Shakespeare’s genius, and was not accused of desecrating his -memory because he did so; but because _I_ quoted that very saying and -approved of it, I have been accused of an act of treason against the -majesty of the great poet. Surely my offence was no greater than that -of Ben Jonson! If there were treason in the thought, it was treason -that I shared with him who had said he loved Shakespeare with as much -love as was possible to feel on this side of idolatry.” - -“I think,” remarked Dr. Milman, “that such apparently malevolent -repetitions of a person’s remarks are the results of careless ignorance -or easy-going stupidity, rather than of positive ill-nature or a wilful -perversion of the truth.” - -“It is very curious,” said Mr. Dyce, “how very few people can repeat -correctly what they hear, and that nine people out of ten cannot repeat -a joke without missing the point or the spirit of it.” - -“And what a widely prevalent tendency there is to exaggerate, -especially in numbers. If some people see a hundred of anything, they -commonly represent the hundred as a thousand and the thousand as ten -thousand.” - -“Not alone in numbers,” interposed Mr. Rogers, “but in anything. If I -quoted Ben Jonson’s remark in relation to Shakespeare once only, the -rumor spreads that I quoted it frequently; and so the gossip passes -from mouth to mouth with continual accretion. Perhaps I shall go down -to posterity as an habitual reviler and depreciator of Shakespeare.” - -“Perhaps you won’t go down to posterity at all,” said Mr. Dyce, -good-naturedly. - -“Perhaps not,” replied Mr. Rogers, “but if my name should happen to -reach that uncertain destination I trust I may be remembered, as Ben -Jonson is, as a true lover of Shakespeare. But great as Shakespeare is, -I don’t think that our admiration should ever be allowed to degenerate -into slavish adoration. We ought neither to make a god of him nor a -fetish. And I ask you, Mr. Dyce, as a diligent student of his works and -an industrious commentator upon them, whether you do not think that -very many passages in them are unworthy of his genius. If Homer nods, -why not Shakespeare?” - -“I grant all that,” replied Mr. Dyce, “nay more! I assert that many of -the plays attributed to him were not written by him at all. And more -even than that. Several of his plays were published surreptitiously, -and without his consent, and never received his final corrections or -any revision whatever. The faults and obscurities that are discoverable -even in the masterpieces of his genius, were not due to him at all, -but to ignorant and piratical booksellers, who gave them to the world -without his authority, and traded upon his name. Some also must be -attributed to the shorthand writers who took down the dialogue as -repeated by the actors on the stage. It is curious to reflect how -indifferent Shakespeare was to his dramatic fame. He never seems to -have cared for his plays at all, and to have looked at them, to use the -slang of the artists of our days, as mere ‘_pot-boilers_,’ compositions -that brought him in money, and enabled him to pay his way, but in which -he took no personal pride whatever.” - -“His heart was in his two early poems—‘Venus and Adonis,’ and the -‘Rape of Lucrece,’” said Dr. Milman, “the only compositions, it should -be observed, that were ever published by his authority, and to which he -appended his name. His sonnets, which some people admire so much—an -admiration in which I do not share—were published surreptitiously, -without his consent, and probably more than one-half of them were not -written by him. Some of them are undoubtedly by Marlowe, and some by -authors of far inferior ability. Shakespeare’s name was popular at the -time; there was no law of copyright, and booksellers did almost what -they pleased with the names and works of celebrated men; and what seems -extraordinary in our day, the celebrated men made no complaint—most -probably because there was no redress to be obtained for them if they -had done so. The real law of copyright only dates from the eighth -year of the reign of Queen Anne, 1710, or nearly a century after -Shakespeare’s death.” - -“But authors in those early days, even in the absence of a well-defined -law of copyright,” said Mr. Miller, “received payment for their works; -witness the receipt of John Milton for five pounds on account of -‘Paradise Lost’—now in the possession of our host—and which we have -all seen.” - -“But that was long after the death of Shakespeare,” said Mr. Dyce, “and -it does not appear that Shakespeare ever received a shilling for the -copyright of any of his works. Perhaps he received gratuities from the -Earls of Southampton and Pembroke, and the other rich young men about -town, for whom it is supposed that he wrote many of his sonnets. That -he also must have received considerable sums for his representation of -his plays at the Globe Theatre is evident from the well-ascertained -fact that he retired from theatrical business with a competent fortune -and lived the life for some years of a prosperous country gentleman.” - -As it has been asserted in my presence by an eminent literary -man, within a month of the present writing, that Samuel Rogers -systematically depreciated Shakespeare, and that he was above all -things a cynic, I think it right, in justice to his memory, to repeat -the conversation above recorded. Though it took place nearly forty -years ago, I wrote down the heads of it in my notebook on the very -day when it occurred; and by reperusal of it I have refreshed my memory -so as to be certain of its accuracy. Mr. Rogers doubtless said very -pungent and apparently ill-natured things in his time; no professed -wit, such as he was, can always, or indeed very often, refrain from -shooting a barbed dart either to raise a laugh and to strengthen an -argument, or to dispense with one; but there was no malevolence in the -heart, though there might appear to be some on the tongue, of Samuel -Rogers. To love literature, and to excel in poetical composition, were -unfailing passports to his regard, his esteem, and if necessary, his -purse. One of the guests of the morning on which these conversations -took place, and who bore his part in them, was a grateful recipient -and witness of his beneficence. Thomas Miller, who began life as a -journeyman basket-maker, working for small daily wages in the fens -of Lincolnshire, excited the notice of his neighbors by his poetical -genius, or it may have been only talent, and by their praises of his -compositions, filled his mind with the desire to try his literary -fortune in the larger sphere of London. He listened to the promptings -of his ambition, came to the metropolis, launched his little skiff on -the wide ocean of literary life, and by dint of hard work, indomitable -perseverance, unfailing hope, and incessant struggles, managed to earn -a modest subsistence. He speedily found that poetry failed to put money -in his purse, and prudently resorted to prose. When prose in the shape -of original work—principally fiction—just enabled him to live from -day to day, he took refuge in the daily drudgery of reviewing in the -_Literary Gazette_, then edited by Mr. Jerdan, a very bad paymaster. -He had not been long in London before he made the acquaintance or Mr. -Rogers, and after a period of more or less intimacy, received from that -gentleman the good, though old, and as it often happens, the unwelcome -advice that he should cease to rely wholly upon literature for his -daily bread. As poor Miller could not return to basket-making—except -as an employer of other basket-makers, for which he had not sufficient, -or indeed any, capital—and as, moreover, he had no love for any -pursuits but those of literature, he resolved, if he could manage it, -to establish himself as a bookseller and publisher. Mr. Rogers, to -whom he confided his wish, approved of it, and generously aided him to -accomplish it, by the advance without security of the money required -for the purpose. The basket-maker carried on the business for a few -years with but slight success, and once informed me that he had made -more money by the sale of note paper, of sealing-wax, of ink, and of -red-tape, than he had made by the sale of his own works, or those of -anybody else. - -Mr. Rogers established another poet in the bookselling and publishing -business, but with far greater success than attended his efforts in the -case of the basket-maker. Mr. Edward Moxon, a clerk or shopman in the -employ of Messrs. Longman, who wrote in his early manhood a little book -of sonnets that attracted the notice of Mr. Rogers, to whom they had -been sent by the author with a modest letter, became by the pecuniary -aid and constant patronage of the “Bard of Memory,” one of the most -eminent publishers of the time. He was known to fame as “the Poet’s -publisher,” and issued the works not only of Mr. Rogers himself, but -of Campbell, Wordsworth, Southey, Savage, Landor, Coleridge, and many -other poetical celebrities. He also published the works of Ben Jonson, -Marlowe, Beaumont and Fletcher, Peele, and other noted dramatists of -the Elizabethan era. - -The friendly assistance, delicately and liberally administered in the -hour of need, by Samuel Rogers to the illustrious Richard Brinsley -Sheridan is fully recorded in the life of the latter by Thomas Moore; -that which was administered, though under less pressing circumstances, -to Thomas Campbell, has found a sympathetic historian in Dr. William -Beattie. Rogers, in spite of the baseless libel concerning Shakespeare, -had not a particle of literary envy in his composition. His dislike -to Lord Byron was not literary but personal, and is adequately -explained—and almost justified—by the gross and unprovoked attacks -which Byron directed against him.—_Gentleman’s Magazine._ - - - - -AN ACTOR IN THE REBELLION OF 1798. - - -BY LETITIA McCLINTOCK. - -In a tiny hovel on the mountain-side just above the romantic glens -of Banagher, in the wildest part of the country Londonderry, lives -Paddy O’Heany, aged a hundred and three years. Paddy is an intelligent -old man who must have enjoyed his existence thoroughly, and taken a -vivid interest in the stirring scenes of his early life. No clod of -the valley is he even now, not like many old people who cannot be -aroused to any enthusiasm about either past or present events. Being -in quest of an actor in the terrible scenes of ’98, and having tried -several very old people without result, we hoped to find in Paddy a -story-teller. - -“Paddy,” said our friend Mrs. S----, “is the oldest inhabitant in the -parish; he was a youth of nineteen at the time of the Rebellion, and -can relate graphic tales of adventures in which he took part. One of -them, the history of Jack McSparron, will make your blood run cold; -but there, I’ll say no more; you shall judge for yourself. Paddy was -one of the United Irishmen; has been, it is said, a Ribbonman and a -Fenian since then, and is now, in all probability, a Land Leaguer. At -any rate, his sympathies are with the Land League, so that you must be -careful what you say if you want him to talk; but I need not give you -any hints, you will know how to draw him out.” - -Looking down from Paddy’s cottage door upon the richly wooded glens of -Banagher, the traveller is struck by the extent and beauty of the view. -Below lies a ruined church, a little to its right the glens—four dark -lines of wood branching off from a common meetingpoint, and running -up the mountain in different directions, and to the left the quaint -country town of Dungiven. Above the town rises the majestic mountain -range of Benbraddagh; while yet farther to the left, and like pale, -smoke-tinted phantoms, are the hills of Magilligan, and the shadowy -coast-line. This was the view we saw from Paddy’s low doorway, and with -a little reluctance we turned away from contemplating it, to enter the -smoky cabin. - -Paddy was a fine old man with thick, grizzled hair, a better-formed -profile than many of his class, and a hale, hearty voice. He was -totally blind, but his keen face was so full of intelligence that it -was easy to forget that he could not see. His daughter, herself a very -old woman, moved his arm-chair near the door, and we sat beside him -facing the scene above described. The turf smoke, of which the kitchen -was full, blew past us to find its outlet at the door. A turf stack was -built against the end of the dresser just behind Paddy’s chair. A calf -was walled off by a little rampart of boards from the rest of the room, -and the cock and hens had already flown to their roost directly above -our heads. The atmosphere and neighborhood might have been objected to -by squeamish people, but in the pursuit of knowledge what will not one -dare? - -The old woman stood behind her fathers chair ready to jog his memory if -necessary. A present of tobacco, tea, and sugar touched the patriarch’s -heart; he was quite willing to take the desired journey into the -regions of the past. - -“Do I mind the time o’ the Uniting? Is that what the lady wants to -know? Ay, bravely I mind it. I mind it far better nor things that -happened yesterday. I was ane o’ the United Men mysel’, an’ I was sent -wi’ a big wheen o’ the boys to keep the pass on the White Mountain when -the army was expected from Derry to destroy us. I had my pike, an’ the -maist part o’ the boys had guns.” - -“Were you not afraid to meet the soldiers?” - -“Feared? Was I feared? Troth an’ faix I was, sorely feared; but it wad -ha’ been as much as your life was worth to let on that you were feared. -I mind us leaning against the heather, an’ the big rocks an’ mountains -rising up all roun’ us, an’ the cold night an’ the darkness comin’ on, -an’ feen a word was spoke amang us, for we be to keep the pass.” - -“Well?” - -“Weel, at long an’ at last, Jack McSparron came running back (he was -put to watch); ‘an’,’ says he, ‘the army’s comin’ now; there’s the -tramp o’ the horses,’ says he. Wi’ that we to the listening, an’ we all -heered the tramp o’ the cavalry; an’ the company o’ the United Men just -melted away like snow off a ditch. Jack an’ one or two others tried to -keep us thegether, but it couldna be done; the boys was too feared. I -ran wi’ the rest, an’ I never stopped till I was in my father’s house -sittin’ into the chimney-corner aback o’ my mother. After that there -was soldiers passing we’er door nearly every day, an’ they said they -were marching to burn Maghera to the ground.” - -“Why was Maghera to be burned to the ground?” - -“I dinna rightly know, but I think the United Men was strong in it. But -counter-orders came that it was na to be destroyed, an’ then the army -came back to Dungiven.” - -“Were you acquainted with Jack McSparron?” - -“Is it Jack McSparron that was flogged in Dungiven Street? Ay, I mind -that weel.” - -His withered hands clutched the arms of his chair as he bent forward, -with his sightless eyes fixed, and the fire of eagerness in his keen -face. He was gone upon a journey into the distant past, and a scene of -horror passed before his mental vision. - -“Those times were worse nor these,” he said; “there were murders, too, -in parts o’ the country, but there was another way o’ working then. I -told you that the army came over frae England, an’ they took up the men -that was for the Uniting, an’ there was short work wi’ _them_. Ay, ay, -I mind the day Jack was flogged in Dungiven Street because he wouldna -tell the names o’ the men that was banded wi’ him. One o’ them was a -meeting minister, it was said; an’ there was farmers an’ laboring men, -too. For the whole country about Dungiven was strong for the United -Irishmen as they called them. I was wi’ them mysel’, but I was never -took.” - -“There were some Presbyterians among them?” - -“Eh?” and his hand went up to his ear. - -“The lady’s axin’ if there wasn’t Presbyterians wi’ the United Men, -father,” said his daughter. - -“Troth, was there, ma’am! it was allowed that there was ministers an’ -farmers an’ shopkeepers o’ them. Jack was a Presbyterian himsel’.” - -“How was he taken prisoner?” - -“I dinna just mind, but I think it was at a meeting they had at a house -in Feeny. The alarm was given that the soldiers was coming, and all -fled an’ got away but Jack. He was a fine boy of nineteen years of age, -the support o’ his mother. He was stiff in his turn, too, far stiffer -nor I could ha’ been, for he swore he’d die afore he’d tell upon his -comrades. Ay, he was stiffer nor me.” - -“True for you, father,” laughed the old woman, leaning over Paddy’s -chair; “you’d ha’ told sooner nor be scourged.” - -We recalled Paddy’s naïve history of his flight from the pass on the -White Mountain and mentally agreed with her. Paddy, however, was an -Irishman pure, while Jack McSparron was descended from the Scottish -Covenanters, and had inherited from them the fortitude of an Ephraim -MacBriar. - -“Go on, Paddy; your story is most interesting.” - -The old man smiled, but he was hardly thinking of his visitors, the -picture brought back by memory so engrossed him. - -“Jack wouldna’ gie the names o’ his comrades, an’ he was sentenced to -be flogged till he would tell. I mind Niel Sweenie, that was a comrade -boy o’ mine, an’ me went to Dungiven to see the flogging. We seen -Jack in a cart an’ his mother wi’ him, an’ all the way along the road -she was laying her commands upon him to die before he’d betray his -comrades. The army was marching all round the cart, an’ people frae -all the farmhouses an’ cottierhouses was following. Then we got into -Dungiven. I mind the crowds that was looking on, an’ me an’ Niel among -them. - -“Jack got so many lashes, an’ then they’d stop an’ the officer would ax -him if he would tell now, an’ the old woman would call out, ‘Dinna give -in, Jack. Die like a man, my son. Think o’ the curses o’ the widows an’ -orphans that wad follow you;’ an’ the poor boy would make answer, ‘Ay, -mother, I’ll die before I tell.’” - -“Dear, dear, but that mother was the hard-hearted woman!” interrupted -Paddy’s daughter, glancing at her grandson, who happened to pass the -door at that moment with a creel of turf on his back. - -Paddy did not heed her interruption; he was embarked on the full tide -of recollection—the horrible scene lived again before him. “They gave -him a great many lashes,” he continued; “I dinna mind how many hundred -it was, an’ each time they stopped he was asked if he would tell, an’ -his mother still bid him die like a man, an’ his answer was still the -same. At long an’ at last the officer called out ‘Stop! would you kill -a game bird?’ an’ he was took down an’ put in the guard-room for the -night. - -“Niel an’ me was invited in to tak’ a look at him, an’ we seen him -lying on his face on a table wi’ an ointment shirt on that the soldiers -had thrown over him. The officers gave orders that the whole country -was to see him if they liked. I think they wanted to scare the United -Men. - -“He was to be took to Limavady the next day for the sentence to be -carried out there, so the whole country took a holiday again to see the -rear o’ the flogging. Jack an’ his mother was in the cart, an’ the army -marchin’ wi’ them, an’ me an’ Niel an’ a crowd o’ neighbors following -along the road to Limavady. - -“The mother called out to us, ‘I’m going wi’ his living funeral,’ says -she; ‘but I’ll gie him the same advice I did yesterday,’ says she. - -“When we reached Limavady he was tied up, an’ we were watching for the -lash to fall, when there was a great shout an’ we seen a man galloping -up the street as hard as his horse could go, waving something white -over his head. It was a pardon come from Dublin for Jack McSparron.” - -“I am glad the pardon came, for he was an heroic youth, rebel though he -was.” - -“Ay,” cried the old man, “_he_ wouldna’ be an informer. There’s few o’ -his sort left in Ireland now, more’s the pity—more’s the pity!” - -The fire in his voice told us plainly where his sympathies really were. -Not, certainly, with murdered landlords, bailiffs, or non-land-league -farmers! - -“Did Jack live to be an old man?” - -“Ay, did he. He died it’ll be sixteen year past next Candlemas. There’s -a daughter o’ his married on a farmer not very far from this. The -McSparrons in this parish is all proud o’ being his friends. When ane -o’ them shows himsel’ a gude comrade or neighbor, the people says, ‘Ay, -he’s o’ the blood of Jack McSparron.’” - - -TRAGEDIES AT MAGHERA. - -Mrs. Majilton was in a state of much excitement one day in the summer -of ’98 because parties of soldiers were passing her house one after -another. Her house was close to the high-road, half-way between Feeny -and Dungiven, and stood in a comfortable little farmyard. She was a -Church Protestant, dreadfully afraid of the rebels, and consequently -very glad to see the red-coats in the country. They had been -marching past her house all morning, and she had stood at the door -with the baby in her arms, wishing them “God speed.” - -The men had exchanged a cheerful greeting with her now and then, and as -they went by she caught some of their conversation; the word Maghera -was repeated over and over again. They were marching to Maghera; no -time must be lost; they could not delay for refreshment or rest. The -day wore on, and a party of stragglers stopped at her door, young lads, -mere recruits, who had lagged behind the main body, not being able to -endure the hardships of their forced march from Londonderry as well as -the older men. Their sergeant, a bronzed veteran, asked the good woman -to give them a drink of water, for the love of God. - -“I have sworn at the poor fellows till I’m hoarse, ma’am; but they’re -giving up, and I must let them rest a minute.” - -Mrs. Majilton ran to lay the baby in its cradle; then she opened the -barrel, filled a large bowl half full of oatmeal, poured water upon it, -and handed it to the men, who sat down in the yard, and passed the bowl -from one to another. - -“That’s both meat and drink,” said they, gratefully. - -“Our orders are to hurry on to Maghera without stopping, for we’ve got -to burn it to the ground,” said the sergeant. - -“God bless me, sir, what’s occurring at Maghera?” - -She knew that Maghera was a country town farther off than Dungiven. -Some of her neighbors had been there, but she had never travelled so -far herself. The sergeant told her that news had reached Derry that the -rebels were in force at Maghera, and were murdering all who refused to -join them. There were few newspapers in those days, and no penny post; -rumor spread and perhaps exaggerated the evil tidings. It was said that -a young girl combing her hair beside her hearth had been shot dead by -a party of men who came to look for her father. They looked in at the -window, saw her, and murdered her out of revenge because her father had -escaped them. “And now,” concluded the sergeant, “our orders are that -Maghera is to be destroyed.” - -Mrs. Majilton, who knew her Bible well, remembered the fate of Sodom -and Gomorrah, and of Nineveh—that wicked city; and she thought the -soldiers were the Lord’s instruments to execute His judgment upon -Maghera. - -When the party of recruits got as far as Dungiven they found that -counter-orders had come—Maghera was _not_ to be burnt after all; but -sufficient troops to quiet the country were to be sent on, while the -remainder halted at Dungiven. We shall accompany two of the soldiers -who pressed forward. As they neared the town, scenes of desolation -met them on every hand—deserted houses, smouldering thatch, burnt -stackyards. They were told that the rebels had taken to the mountains -when they heard the troops were coming. The men separated; some -explored one road, some another, hoping to inclose the enemy in a net. - -As Privates John Buckley and Tom Green advanced up one of these -mountain roads they were appalled by the terrible loneliness of the -place. Here a farmhouse stood empty, its door hanging off the hinges; -there were blackened circles where stacks of corn had been; again they -saw a cottage with a smouldering thatch, and no sign of life near, -excepting a starved cat that prowled about the door. - -The rebels had clearly passed that way; those were the marks they -had left behind them. At length, where the lane seemed about to lose -itself in a mountain pass, they came to a cottage whose door stood -open. It looked like a comfortable small farmer’s homestead: a pretty -garden, gay with common flowers, was at one side of the house; there -were laburnums and lilacs just out of blossom; red and white roses in -full blossom; tall orange lilies with bursting buds; rows of peas and -beans and plots of cabbages. The whole place had a civilized air, and -reminded the Englishmen of their own homes. The pretty green railing -and rustic gate; the orderly stackyard and offices, gave an impression -of neatness, taste, and comfort unusual in that country. - -The men went into the kitchen of the farmhouse. There was no fire upon -the hearth. The turf had burnt to ashes under a great black pot of -potatoes that hung upon the crook, and two children sat disconsolately -leaning against each other beside the cold hearth. - -Buckley explored the “room,” and Green the loft; there was no trace -of human being to be found; the children were the only inmates of the -place. - -The eldest child, a little girl of about four years old, with pretty -blue eyes and curly hair, looked up curiously, but did not move. Her -tiny brother was too languid to raise his head from her shoulder. - -“Are you alone in the house?” asked Green. - -“Ay,” replied the child. - -“Where are your father and mother?” - -“They are sleeping in the garden; they ha’ been there this good wee -while,” answered the little one, fixing her serious eyes upon them. -“Come, an’ I’ll show you where they are.” - -She got up, gave her hand confidingly to the man, and led him to the -garden, the other soldier following; and behind the cabbages they found -a man and woman lying in a heap, stiff and cold, having evidently been -piked to death. - -“Come back to the house, my little dear,” cried Green, drawing the poor -innocent away from the cruel sight. Her little brother still sat where -they had left him, leaning his sick head against the wall. He was very -faint and weak. - -“Have you nothing to eat?” asked the men. - -“My mammy has bread an’ butter in the kist, but she has the key in her -pocket,” replied the little girl. They broke open the chest and found -the food; but they had arrived too late to save the boy: he died in -Buckley’s arms before they reached Maghera. Green carried the girl -and presented her to his company. Each soldier subscribed toward her -maintenance, and she grew up among them, the pet and plaything of all. -She accompanied the regiment to England at the close of the rebellion, -and nothing further was known of her by her old neighbors. - - -MICKY O’DONNEL’S WAKE. - -Wildest of all the wild Donegal coast is the region lying between -Fannet Lighthouse and Knockalla Fort. There are impassable bogs and -mountain fastnesses which strangers cannot explore, but that are safe -resorts for illicit distillers, the blue wreaths of smoke from whose -stills may be seen curling against a dark background. In the years ’97 -and ’98 these fastnesses were favorite haunts of the United Irishmen. - -Fannet had a particularly bad name in those unsettled times. The Church -Protestants were, of course, loyal, but they formed only a handful of -the population; and the Presbyterians were, many of them, banded with -the rebels. The Fannet landlords raised a company of yeomen, consisting -of the Protestants aforesaid, and placed themselves at their head. - -Help was at hand. Lord Cavan was sent over from England in command of -soldiers; Knockalla Fort was garrisoned; and the yeomanry were called -up to receive their arms and ammunition. - -“You needna be giving the like of us arms, my lord,” said old Anthony -Gallagher, “for the Catholics will take them from us.” - -Lord Cavan was amused at the fellow’s outspokenness, and replied that -he had come over to make Fannet so quiet that not one of the rebels -would venture so much as to speak. The yeomen got their guns and -bayonets, and the soldiers were ready to support them. Lord Cavan, a -stern and fierce soldier, kept his word; he quieted Fannet so that the -Catholics did not dare to speak. The Protestants had been reduced to an -abject state of terror before his arrival by the horrible murder of Dr. -Hamilton their rector, a zealous magistrate, who was followed to the -house of a neighboring clergyman and shot. He went to spend the night -with a brother-rector at some distance from Fannet, and the rectory was -surrounded by United Irishmen, who clamored that the Doctor should be -given up to them. - -“Those are Fannet men; I know their voices,” said he. The door was soon -burst open; the attacking party rushed in, found the family in the -garrets, and dragged their captive downstairs. He clung with both hands -to the banisters, and one of the women servants took a candle and held -the flame to his fingers till he was forced to let go his hold. He was -taken to the lawn and his brains were blown out. - -This atrocity had determined the Government to send troops to Fannet. - -It was soon after this that Anthony Gallagher and the troop he served -in were at Kerrykeel fair and were attacked by a party of the rebels. -The yeomen were commanded to draw their bayonets and beat them off, and -all the United Men retreated and got away except a man called Micky -O’Donnel from Ballywhoriskey, at the Bottom of Fannet. He was found -dead on the street, pierced through the heart. Lord Cavan rode up at -that moment, followed by men from the Fort. “Take that corpse with you, -boys,” said he, “an’ hang it in chains from the walls of Knockalla -Fort. It will be a warning to the rest of the villains.” Anthony and -two soldiers were left in charge of the corpse, but the villagers -assembling in force, there was a rescue, and Micky O’Donnel was carried -off before the yeomen got back, attracted by the noise of shouting, to -protect their comrades. Lord Cavan was in a rage when he heard what had -happened, and swore a round oath that that corpse should yet hang in -chains from Knockalla Fort as a warning to the rest of Fannet; and he -despatched a party to recover it. - -It was known that Micky O’Donnel belonged to the Bottom of Fannet, so -the party set out along the banks of Mulroy, where they fell in with -the yeomen, and all went on together. But every house along the road -was empty, and there were no men at work in the fields; it was like a -country of the dead. - -Along the wild Atlantic shore; among the bent-covered sand hills; -up to the miserable row of hovels called the town of Shanna, went -the soldiers; but still not a human being was to be seen. The whole -population had taken to the mountains. - -At length they reached the last cabin in the village of Ballywhoriskey, -and there they discovered the dead man laid out on the wretched bed, -with two tallow candles burning at his head. - -“Feen a crathur” (we quote the words of Anton Gallagher, our informant, -son of the Anthony who was present at the scene)—“feen a crathur was -in the house but the corpse on the bed an’ two ould women waking it. -The women cried an’ lamented, an’ went on their knees to the officer -to lave the poor corpse where it was to get Christian burial; an’ the -gentleman thought it a pity o’ them, an’ left the wake wantin’ Micky -after all. It was my father tould me the story.” - -“Have you got your father’s gun and bayonet?” - -“Ay, ma’am, in troth I have! If you ladyship honors me wi’ a visit -you’ll see them hanging up over the chimney. I wouldna part wi’ them -for goold. There’s many a winter’s night the Catholics coming home -frae the market will stop at we’er door an’ cry, “King William’s men, -come out!” an’ then it’s all the mother an’ me can do to keep the -boys from taking down their grandfather’s gun, an’ going out to meet -them.”—_Belgravia._ - - - - -SAMUEL JOHNSON - - -BY EDMUND GOSSE. - -It is exactly one hundred years ago since Dr. Johnson wrote his last -letter to Lucy Porter, in which he announced to her that he was very -ill, and that he desired her prayers. Less than a fortnight later, -on the 13th of December, 1784, he was dead. All through the year his -condition had given his friends more than anxiety. The winter of 1783 -had been marked by collapse of the constitution; to the ceaseless -misery of his skin was now added an asthma that would not suffer him to -recline in bed, a dropsy that made his legs and feet useless through -half of the weary day. It is somewhat marvellous that he got through -this terrible winter, the sufferings of which are painfully recorded in -his sad correspondence. It is difficult to understand why, just when -he wanted companionship most, his friends seem all to have happened to -desert him. Of the quaint group of invalids in mind and body to whom -his house had been a hospital, all were gone except Mrs. Desmoulins, -who was bedridden; and we may believe that their wrangling company had -never been so distasteful to himself as to his friends. Boswell and -Mrs. Thrale, as we know, had more or less valid reasons for absence, -and Boswell, at least, was solicitous in inquiry. We must, however, -from whatever cause, think of Johnson, who dreaded solitude, as now -almost always alone, mortified by spiritual pains no less acute than -his physical ones, torturing his wretched nights with Baxter’s _Call -to the Unconverted_, and with laborious and repeated diagnosis of his -own bodily symptoms. It is strange to think that, although he was the -leading man of letters in England, and the centre of a whole society, -his absence from the meetings of his associates seems scarcely to have -been noticed. It was not until in February he was relieved that he -allowed himself to speak of the danger he had passed through. Then he -confessed his terror to Lucy Porter, in the famous words, “Pray for me; -death, my dear, is very dreadful; let us think nothing worth our care -but how to prepare for it;” and asked Boswell to consult the venerable -physician, Sir Alexander Dick, as to the best way of avoiding a relapse. - -Boswell felt it a duty to apply not to Dick only, but to various -leading doctors. In doing so he reminded them, with his extraordinary -foppishness, of “the elegant compliment” which Johnson had paid to -their profession in his _Life of Garth_, the poet-physician. The -doctors, with one accord, and thinking without doubt far more of -Johnson himself than of Garth, clustered around him with their advice -and their prescriptions, and the great man certainly received for the -brief remainder of his days such alleviation as syrup of poppies and -vinegar of squills could give him. Mrs. Boswell, encouraged by a more -favorable account of his health, invited him down to Auchinlech in -March. He could not venture to accept, but he was pleased to be asked, -and recovered so much of his wonted fire as to fancy, in a freak of -strange inconsistency, that he would amuse himself by decorating his -London study with the heads of “the fathers of _Scottish_ literature.” -To Langton, who—as Johnson justly thought, with unaccountable -“circumduction”—had made inquiries about his old friend through -Lord Portmore, he expressed a hope of panting on to ninety, and said -that “God, who has so wonderfully restored me, can preserve me in -all seasons.” It is very pathetic to follow the old man through the -desolate and wearisome months: nor can we easily understand, from any -of the records we possess, why he was allowed to be so much alone. -On Easter Monday, after recording without petulance that his great -hope of being able to go out on the preceding day had been doomed to -disappointment, he goes on to say, “I want every comfort. My life is -very solitary and very cheerless.... I am very weak, and have not -passed the door since the 13th of December.” - -Bright weather came in May, and Johnson went to Islington for a -change of air. Boswell came back to town, and the sage was able to go -to dinner-parties day after day, without at first exasperating his -symptoms. In June he went to Oxford, on the famous occasion when he -told the people in the coach that “Demptster’s sister had endeavored -to teach him knotting, but that he had made no progress;” and at -Oxford, as we know, he talked copiously, and with all his old vivacity. -No doubt, though Boswell does not like to confess it, the constant -dissipation, intellectual and mildly social, of those two summer months -was mischievous to the frail revival of his health. At the dinner -of the Literary Club, June 22, every one noticed how ill he looked. -Perhaps the true cause of this was a secret chagrin which we can now -appreciate, the final apostasy of Mrs. Thrale from his friendship. At -all events, Reynolds and Boswell were sufficiently frightened to set -their heads together for the purpose of getting their old friend off -to Italy. We are divided between satisfaction that the inevitable end -did not reach the old man sociable in the midst of strange faces and -foreign voices, and bewildered indignation at the still mysterious -cabal which wrecked so amiable an enterprise. If Lord Thurlow was -shifty, however, other friends were generous. Dr. Brocklesbury, the -physician, pressed Johnson to become his guest that he might the -more carefully attend upon him. From Ashbourne, whither he had been -prevailed upon to go, he kept this last-mentioned friend well posted in -the sad fluctuations of his health, and we see him gradually settling -down again into wretchedness. His mind recurred constantly to the -approaching terror. To Dr. Burney he writes in August, “I struggle -hard for life. I take physic and take air; my friend’s chariot is -always ready. We have run this morning twenty-four miles, and could run -forty-eight more. _But who can run the race with death?_” Reflections -of this class fill all his letters of that autumn; and in October he -sums up his condition in saying to Heberden that “the summer has passed -without giving him any strength.” It is strange that still no one -seemed to notice what is plain to us in every line of his -correspondence, that Johnson was dying. With himself, however, the -thought of death was always present; and even in discussing with Miss -Seward so frivolous a theme as the antics of a learned pig, Johnson -was suddenly solemnized by recollecting that the pig had owed its -life to its education. One hardly knows whether to smile or to sigh -at the quaint and suggestive peroration: “The pig, then, has no cause -to complain; protracted existence is a good recompense for very -considerable degrees of torture.” To protract existence was now all -Johnson’s thought, and he set his powerful will to aid him in the -struggle. His only hopes were those which his strength of will supplied -him with. “I will be conquered,” he said, “I will not capitulate.” - -It was not till he reached London in November that he consented to -capitulate. The terror of death was now upon him, indeed. “Love me as -well as you can,” he wrote to Boswell; “teach the young ones to love -me.” On the 8th of November he closed the diary of his symptoms—his -_ægri ephemeris_—now become worse than useless. His suffering, -dejection, and restless weakness left his brain, however, unclouded, -and less than a week before the end he corrected an error in a line -from Juvenal which Dr. Brocklesbury had carelessly recited. The -chronicle of the rapid final decline is given with great simplicity and -force by Hoole in that narrative of the last three weeks of the life of -Dr. Johnson which he contributed to the _European Magazine_ in 1799, -and which Mr. Napier has reprinted in one of the many appendices to his -invaluable edition. At last, exactly a year after his original attack -of asthma, the end came at seven o’clock in the evening of Monday, the -13th of December. - -Devoid, as it is, of all the elements of external romance, there is -perhaps no record of the extinction of genius which attracts more -universal interest than this death of Samuel Johnson. So much of -frivolity or so much of cant attends most of us even to the tomb, that -the frank terror, expressed through a long life by this otherwise most -manly and courageous person, has possessed a great fascination for -posterity. The haunting insincerity of verse, particularly of -eighteenth-century verse, had extracted even from Johnson, in the pages -of _The Vanity of Human Wishes_, the usual rose-colored commonplace -about death being “Kind Nature’s signal for retreat;” but he completely -cleared his own mind of cant, even though a little clung about his -singing robes. Boswell has given us an extraordinary instance of his -habitual and dismal apprehensions in the celebrated conversation -in 1769, which started with a discussion of David Hume’s supposed -indifference to the idea of death. Not less familiar are the passionate -asseverations with which Johnson startled Mrs. Knowles and Miss -Seward in 1778 by repeating again and again that to exist in pain is -better, far better, than to cease to exist altogether. These and other -revelations of Johnson’s conversation have perhaps led us to exaggerate -his habitual terror. There are, at least, instances to be drawn from -less hackneyed sources which display his attitude towards eternity less -painfully. Of these perhaps the most remarkable is that recorded in the -_Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides_, when, on a calm Sunday afternoon, -sailing from Ramsay to Skye, Johnson delivered himself of a little -homily. The text was a passage from _The Cypress Grove_ of Drummond -of Hawthornden, which Boswell had happened to quote. Drummond had -said that a man should leave life as cheerfully as a visitor who has -examined an antiquary’s cabinet sees the curtain drawn again, and makes -way to admit fresh pilgrims to the show. Johnson stripped the conceit -to the skin, as he was in the habit of doing:— - - “Yes, sir, if he is sure he is to be well after - he goes out of it. But if he is to grow blind after - he goes out of the show-room, and never to see - anything again, or if he does not know whither he is - to go next, a man will not go cheerfully out of a - show-room. No wise man will be contented to die if he - thinks he is to go into a state of punishment. Nay, - no wise man will be contented to die, if he thinks he - is to fall into annihilation, for however unhappy any - man’s existence may be, he would rather have it than - not exist at all. No; there is no rational principle - by which a man can die contented, but a trust in the - mercy of God, through the merits of Jesus Christ.” - -The baldness of this statement, the resolute contempt of the author -of it for the mere dress and ornament of language, throw not a little -light upon the reason why, after the lapse of a hundred years, we still -listen with so quick an interest and so personal an affection to all -that is recorded of Johnson’s speech. The age in which we live cannot -be entirely given up to priggishness and the dry rot of sentiment, so -long as any considerable company in it are wont to hang upon Johnson’s -lips, without being offended by his jocular brutality, his strenuous -piety, or his unflinching enmity to affectation. Of course a class -still exists, perhaps it never was more numerous than it now is, whose -nerves and lungs can endure the strong light and tonic air of Johnson’s -vigorous genius, and who rejoice to think that no one ever tamed their -tiger-cat. To these such an anniversary as the present, not needed to -remind them of one who is almost as real to them as any of their own -relations, is yet valuable as giving them a landmark from which they -may look back and judge the effect that distance has upon the apparent -and relative size of such a figure. This can be the only excuse, in a -brief note such as this must be, for dealing with facts and personages -which are the absolute commonplaces of literary history. We may know -our Boswell by heart, and be prepared to pass a searching examination -in _Rasselas_ and in the _Rambler_, and yet be ready to listen for -a moment with surprise to the voice which reminds us that a century has -passed away since the great pontiff of literature died. - -How then does the noble and familiar figure strike us in looking -backward from the year 1884? In “constant repercussion from one coxcomb -to another,” have the sounds which he continued to make through a -career of stormy talk ceased to preserve all their value and importance -for us? How does he affect our critical vision now that we observe in -relief against him such later talker-seers as Coleridge, De Quincey, -and Carlyle? To these questions it is temperament more than literary -acumen which will suggest the replies; and the present writer has no -intention at this particular moment of attempting to forestall the -general opinion of the age. His only object in putting forth this brief -note is to lay stress on the curious importance of temperament in -dealing with what seems like a purely literary difficulty. The -personality of all other English writers, in prose and verse, even of -Pope, even of De Quincey, must eventually yield in interest to the -qualities of their writing. In Dr. Johnson alone the writings yield to -the personality, and in spite of the wonder of foreign critics such as -M. Taine, he remains, and will remain, although practically unread, one -of the most potent of English men of letters. - -Must we not admit now, at the close of a century, that it is -practically impossible to read him? Among the lesser men that -surrounded him, there are many who have outstripped him in literary -vitality. In verse he lags far behind Gray and Collins, Churchill -and Chatterton; nay, if the _Wanderer_ were by Johnson and _London_ -by Savage, the former would possess more readers than the latter -now attracts. In prose, who shall venture to say that Johnson is -the equal of Fielding, Smollett, Hume, Goldsmith, Gibbon, or Burke? -We know that he is far less entertaining, far less versatile and -brilliant, than any one of these. The _Discourses_ of his direct -disciple Reynolds are more often read, and with more pleasure, than -those essays of _The Rambler_ from which their style was taken. As a -dramatist, as a novelist, Johnson ranks below _Douglas_ Home, below -the inventor of _Peter Wilkins_. For years he labored upon what was -not literature at all, for other years on literature which the world -has been obliged, against its will, to allow to disappear. When all -is winnowed away which has become, in itself, interesting only to -scholars, there remains _The Vanity of Human Wishes_, a gnomic poem -of tedious morality, singularly feeble in the second joint of almost -every recurring distich; _Rasselas_, a _conte_ in the French taste, -insufferable in its lumbering machinery and pedantic ethics; the _Lives -of the Poets_, in which prejudice, ignorance, and taste combine to -irritate the connoisseur and bewilder the student. Such, with obvious -exaggeration, and with wilful suppression of exceptional facts, the -surviving literary labors of Johnson may be broadly described to be. -The paradox is that a Johnsonian may admit all that, and yet hold to it -that his hero is the principal Englishman of letters throughout the -rich second half of the eighteenth century. In this Johnson is unique. -Coleridge, for instance, was much more than a writer of readable -works in prose and verse; but let an age arrive in which the _Ancient -Mariner_, _Christabel_, and the _Biographia Literaria_ are no longer -read or admired, and Coleridge will scarcely be able, on the score -of his personality alone, to retain his lofty position among men of -letters. Yet this is what Johnson promises to succeed in continuing -to do. No one will ever say again, with Byron, that the _Lives of the -Poets_ is “the finest critical work extant,” but that does not make -Johnson ever so little a less commanding figure to us than he was to -Byron. - -Let us consider for one moment the case of the unfortunate tragedy -of _Irene_. There are very few of us who are capable of placing our -hands upon our bosoms in the open sight of heaven and swearing that we -have ever read it quite through. The _Mourning Bride_ still counts its -admirers, and even _Cato_, but not _Irene_. Who among the staunchest -and strongest Johnsonians can tell what hero it was that confessed, and -upon what occasion, - - “I thought (forgive me, fair!) the noblest aim, - The strongest effort of a female soul - Was but to choose the graces of the day.” - -without peeping furtively at the text? Nevertheless _Irene_ lives -and always will live in the memory of men. But while other dramas -exist on the strength of their dramatic qualities, this of Johnson’s -lives on the personal qualities of the author himself. It is not -the blank, blank verse, nor the heroine’s reflections regarding the -mind of the Divine Being, nor the thrilling Turkish fable, nor the -snip-snap dialogue about prodigies between Leontius and Demetrius, -that preserves the memory of this tragedy. It is the anecdote of how -Walmsley asked, melted by the sorrows of Irene, “How can you possibly -contrive to plunge her into deeper calamity?” and how Johnson answered, -with a reference to his friend’s office, “Sir, I can put her into the -spiritual court!” It is the eagerness which George III. expressed to -possess the original MS. of the play. It is the monstrous folly which -made Cave suppose that the Royal Society would be a likely body to -purchase the copyright of it. It is the screams of the audience at -Drury Lane when they saw Mrs. Pritchard with the bowstring round her -neck. It is the garb in which Johnson insisted on dressing to look on -at the performance, in a scarlet waistcoat, and with a gold-laced hat -on his head. It is the tragedian’s unparalleled frankness about the -white silk stockings. These are the things which we recall when _Irene_ -is mentioned, and if the play had been performed in dumb show, if it -had been a ballet, an opera, or a farce, its place in literary history -would be just where it is, no higher and no lower. Such is the curious -fate which attends all Johnson’s works, the most interesting of them is -not so interesting as the stories which cluster around its authorship. - -This personal interest which we all feel in the sayings and doings of -Johnson is founded so firmly on his broad humanity that we need not -have the slightest fear of its cessation or diminution. The habits of -thought and expression which were in vogue in the eighteenth century -may repeat themselves, as some of us expect, in the twentieth, or our -children may become more captious, more violent, more ungraceful in -their tastes than we are ourselves. The close of the preface to the -_Dictionary_ may cease to seem pathetic, or may win more tributes of -tears than ever. The reputation of Johnson does not stand or fall by -the appetite of modern readers for the _Life of Savage_ or even for -the _Letter to Lord Chesterfield_. It depends on the impossibility of -human beings ever ceasing to watch with curiosity “the very pulse of -the machine” when it is displayed as Johnson displayed it through the -fortunate indiscretions of his friends, and when it is on the whole so -manly, wholesome, brave, honest, and tender as it was in his. There -will always be readers and admirers of what Johnson wrote. Let us -welcome them; but let us not imagine that Johnson, as a great figure -in letters, depends upon their suffrages. The mighty Samuel Johnson, -the anniversary of whose death both hemispheres of the English-speaking -race will solemnise on the 13th of this month, is not the author -of this or that laborious contribution to prose or verse, but the -convulsive invalid who “see-sawed” over the Grotius, the courageous old -Londoner who trusted his bones among the stormy Hebrides, the autocrat -of the Literary Club, the lover of all the company of blue-stockings, -the unequalled talker, the sweet and formidable friend, the truculent -boon-companion, the child-like Christian, who, for all his ghostly -terrors, contrived at last “to die contented, trusting in the mercy of -God, through the merits of Jesus Christ.” If the completed century -finds us with any change at all of our feelings regarding him, it -is surely merely this, that the passage of time is steadily making -his faults seem more superficial and accidental, and his merits more -striking, more essential, more pathetical and pleasing.—_Fortnightly -Review._ - - - - -THE DEMOCRATIC VICTORY IN AMERICA. - - -BY WILLIAM HENRY HURLBURT. - -The United States being, and having been from the outset of their -history, a Democratic Republic, it may well puzzle a European reader -to understand why American “Republicans” should bewail a “Democratic” -triumph, or American “Democrats” exult in the overthrow of a -“Republican” party. - -Yet it may not be impertinent to suggest that in no country are -the names of political parties or factions commonly selected by a -committee of philologists with an eye to making the national politics -intelligible. What notions of English history are conveyed by the mere -names of “Whig” and “Tory” or even of “Liberal” and “Conservative” to -a person unfamiliar with the political history of England? What light -is thrown on the history of Byzantium by talking of the “Blues” and the -“Greens,” or on the history of Florence by casual references to the -“Bianchi” and the “Neri”? - -When one asks for the origin of such names, history is apt to give him -no better answer than that of the small African child who was invited -by a sympathetic lady to explain how she came to have six toes on one -of her feet—“they growed so!” - -This is so emphatically true of American political parties that my -readers must pardon me if I take them back to the “beginnings of -things” for an accurate perspective of the recent Presidential election -in the United States, and of its significance. - - * * * * * - -The existing Constitution of the American Union was adopted in 1789 by -the citizens of thirteen new-born Republics who had grown up to manhood -in the then anomalous condition of subjects of the British Crown -enjoying all the privileges and immunities of local self-government -in thirteen distinct and independent colonies which differed among -themselves in origin, in social traditions and habits, and in religion, -almost as widely as Wales differs from Ireland, or Ireland from -Scotland. These colonies had co-operated from time to time with the -mother country for the common defence against a common enemy, colonial -France. And they had been united under a temporary political bond in -the great revolutionary war of 1776, by a common spirit of resistance -to that Parliamentary despotism, tempered by corruption, which after -the English Revolution of 1688 and the establishment of the House of -Hanover assumed to itself the place originally held by the British -Crown in the allegiance of these stalwart “Home-Rulers” beyond the -Atlantic. - -At the peace of Versailles in 1783 Great Britain found herself -compelled to recognize the independence of all and of each of these -colonies, which thenceforth took their places in the family of nations -as separate and sovereign states. They were recognized in this -capacity not in block, but severally and individually, each by its -own territorial designation; and from the moment of such recognition -each of them felt that it was absolutely free, and “of right ought to -be free,” saving so far as it had bound itself to the then existing -confederacy of 1778, to adopt any form of government which might suit -the humor of its citizens, and to form any alliances advantageous to -its own interests. The States were, indeed, at that moment bound -together for certain specified purposes by a federal compact formed -during the war in 1778; but this compact sate so lightly upon them -that it was not only impossible to compel the several States into an -exact fulfilment of confederate obligations, but very difficult even -to induce them to get themselves properly represented under it for -legislative and executive purposes at the then federal capital of -Annapolis in Maryland. A striking illustration of this is given in a -private letter, now in my possession, written by Thomas Jefferson of -Virginia, the author of the Declaration of Independence of 1776, and -eventually the founder of that great Democratic party under the Union -of 1789, which now once more, after a quarter of a century of extra -constitutional experiments in government, has been commissioned by -the voters of the United States, in the election to the Presidency -of Governor Cleveland of New York, to restore in all its parts, and -re-establish on its original and enduring foundations, the sway of the -Federal Constitution of 1789. Writing from Annapolis to a friend in -Virginia in regard to the negotiations at Paris which had secured the -recognition of American Independence, Mr. Jefferson, in December 1783, -complains bitterly of the indifference of the States to this momentous -event. Under the ninth article of the then existing confederate compact -of 1778, the assent of nine States represented in the Congress at -Annapolis assembled was necessary to the ratification of any treaty -with a foreign power. The time fixed for the ratification by Congress -of the Treaty of Versailles was rapidly running out at the date of the -letter to which I refer, and the Congress had been long in session. -“We had yesterday, for the first time, seven States,” exclaims Mr. -Jefferson; and he goes on to express his concern lest the necessary -quorum of nine States should not be assembled before the expiration of -the term fixed for ratification in the treaty by which, after seven -years of an exhausting war, their independence was to be established! - -I dwell on this point in order to emphasise the truth, vital to any -intelligent appreciation of the great change now impending in the -administration of public affairs in the United States, that the -commonwealths by which the American Union was established were, -from the first, in the opinion of their inhabitants, sufficient -each unto itself; and this because each of these commonwealths was -indeed a well-organised body politic, the members of which had long -managed their domestic affairs under one or another form of chartered -authority, after their own fashion; and, for the protection within -their own borders of life and of property, had adjusted to their -several situations and necessities the maxims and principles of English -liberty defined and guarded by law. These States were the creators, -not the creatures of that “more perfect Union” which (the Confederacy -of 1778 failing) was finally formed by them after all its features had -been discussed, debated, and redebated, not only in a Convention of the -States assembled for that purpose in 1787, but in the several States -subsequently, with a fulness, vigor of thought, and intelligence which, -in the opinion of others than my own countrymen, make the volumes of -Elliott’s _Debates on the Constitution_ the most valuable treasury of -constitutional politics in existence. - -The framers of the American Constitution of 1789 were no rude -uninstructed settlers, summoned from the axe and the plough to -improvise an orderly government. The traditions of the older States -went back to the struggle between the prerogative and the taxpayers -of England under the Stuart kings. Virginia, the “Old Dominion” of -Elizabeth and the Restoration, with her Established Church, her College -of William and Mary, and her legends of the Cavaliers, was in no -hurry to believe that her consequence could be much enhanced by any -merger of her sovereignty in that of a federal union with Charles the -Second’s Crown colony of Rhode Island, and with the gallant little -community which keeps green on the banks of the Delaware the memory -of the self-sacrificing and heroic Thomas West. The colonial story -of the great central State of New York had made its sturdy people -familiar with those ideas of federated liberty on which the fabric -of Netherlandish independence had been founded. The curious in such -matters have found an indication of the extent to which the spirit of -the Netherlands influenced the framers of the new American republic -in the fact that when the style and title to be taken by the American -President were under consideration, Washington inclined to the notion -that the Chief Magistrate should be addressed and known as “His High -Mightiness.” - -Nor were the citizens of the youngest of the colonies disposed to put -the control of their persons and their purses unreservedly into the -hands of any imperial central authority. - -After the Constitution of 1789 (to take the date from the day, April -30, 1789, on which Washington was inaugurated at New York as the -first President of the United States) had been definitely adopted by -eleven States, the two States of North Carolina and Rhode Island still -withholding their ratification of the instrument, remained as foreign -powers outside of the Union, the former until the 21st of November -1789, and the latter until the 29th of May 1790. - -A notable date this last! - -Never was a great compact more opportunely framed and ratified! - -Almost upon the morrow of these final adhesions to the “more perfect -Union,” the storm of the French Revolution broke upon the world, -bringing with it great international convulsions which affected every -nerve and fibre of the social, political, and industrial life of -America, and tested to the utmost every seam and joint in the fabric -of the new American Republic. The excesses of Jacobinism in France -strengthened the doubts and fears of many excellent persons in America -who had small faith in the capacity of the people for self-government -on a grand scale, and who accepted the Constitution of 1789 not as a -final and trustworthy frame of polity, but because, while they thought -it, to use the language of one of the ablest of their number, “frail -and worthless in itself,” they hoped to see it lead up to the eventual -establishment of some such “splendid central government” as in our own -times Mr. Seward, the true founder of the “Republican” party which has -just been defeated in the United States, used to dream of and did his -best to build up. - -The influence of these doubts and fears upon the politics of the new -American Republic was fortunately met and countered by the genius and -the faith of a group of great American statesmen, the friends and -associates of Thomas Jefferson; and the fundamental divergence between -the controlling ideas of the two great parties which now occupy the -field of American politics goes back to this closing decade of the -eighteenth century. When the existing Constitution was first submitted -by the Convention of 1787 to the people and to the States, those who, -with Alexander Hamilton of New York, and James Madison of Virginia, -advocated its adoption were called “Federalists”, and those who, with -Samuel Adams of Massachusetts, and Patrick Henry of Virginia, opposed -it as threatening the rights and sovereignty of the States, were -called Anti-Federalists. After its adoption the latter party took the -name of “Strict Constructionists,” their object being to bind down -the administration of the new system to the closest and most rigid -interpretation of the powers conferred by the States upon the Federal -Government; while their opponents were styled “Broad Constructionists.” -Both parties happily had such confidence in the patriotism and wisdom -of Washington that he came into power as first President by a unanimous -vote, and selected his first cabinet from the leaders of both the great -parties which had contended over the adoption and the construction of -the new Constitution. At the first session of the first Congress, in -1789, ten amendments to the Constitution were adopted, embodying a -Bill of Rights to secure the liberties of the citizens of the several -States, and explicitly reserving to the several States “respectively” -or to the people, “all the powers not delegated to the United States by -the Constitution nor prohibited by it to the States.” These amendments -Thomas Jefferson counselled the friends of Home Rule and State Rights -to accept as an adequate guarantee of both. His wise advice was taken, -and the great political party which was formed under the Constitution -took, at his suggestion, the name of the “Republican Party.” The name -was appropriate enough to that party which held each State of the new -Union to be indeed an independent “Republic,” and regarded the -“Federal” Government as the agent and protector of the “Republican” -independence of each State. - -It gathered to itself a kind of passion, too, in the popular heart from -the then very general conviction that the leaders, at least, of the -“Federalist” party secretly desired to see these “Republics” disappear -into some form of centralised monarchy. - -As the French Revolution grew more portentous and interesting, and its -agents busied themselves with efforts to draw America into the European -contest as an ally, or rather as a dependency, of Republican France, -the political antagonism of the “Federalists” and the “Republicans” -grew dangerously high and hot. Men wore French or English Cockades in -the streets of New York and Philadelphia. A distinguished public man -of Massachusetts once told me that his earliest recollection of any -political event took him back to a day on which a friend of his father, -who was a leading Federalist of Massachusetts, met him in the streets -coming home from school, and, giving him a bright Spanish dollar, said, -“Now, Jack, run as fast as you can to your father’s court, and tell him -from me that Robert Spear’s head has been cut off, and he must give you -just such another dollar!” News came at long intervals then from Europe -to America, and the tidings of the fall of Robespierre had that morning -reached Boston. - -Under the stress of these emotions the “Republicans” took to denouncing -the “Federalists” as “Monocrats” and “Anglomen,” and the “Federalists” -retorted by reviling their opponents as “Jacobins” and “Democrats.” - -The “Federalist” party held its own during the two Presidencies of -Washington, and elected John Adams to succeed the “Father of his -country” in 1796. Under the Presidency of Mr. Adams the “Federalists” -lost their heads, and the “Republicans” in the year 1800 took -possession of power under the first Presidency of Thomas Jefferson. -They had for some time been known commonly as “Democratic Republicans,” -and in the ninth Congress which met under the second Presidency of -Jefferson in 1805 they boldly took the name of “Democrats,” in the -spirit of good Bishop Willegis, who put the wagoner’s wheel into -his coat-of-arms, and like the “Gueux,” the “Huguenots,” and the -“Roundheads,” extracting “glory out of bitterness.” - -From that time to this the “Democratic” party has continued to be -what Jefferson made it, the party of “Home Rule” as opposed to -centralisation, and of a strict construction of the organic law -by which the provisions and the limitations of Federal power are -sanctioned and defined, as against that plausible paternalism under -cover of which, in the language of a great living leader of the -Democratic party, Senator Bayard of Delaware, “the general government -assumes guardianship and protection over the business of the private -citizen, and functions of control over matters of domestic and local -interest.” - - * * * * * - -If I have enabled my readers to estimate aright the vital importance -attached by the people of the several States in the formation of -the Constitution to the recognition of the rights and the reserved -sovereignty of the States, they will not be surprised to learn that -when Thomas Jefferson established the Democratic party upon this -recognition as its fundamental principle he secured for the Democratic -party such a profound and permanent hold upon the confidence and the -affections of the American people as can never be shaken while the -Union remains what it was meant to be. For forty years after his first -Presidency, no combinations succeeded in wresting from the Democrats -the control of the executive authority. The only apparent exception to -this statement confirms it. In the Presidential election of 1824, the -electoral ticket of General Jackson, the leading Democratic candidate, -received a considerable majority of the votes of the people; but as -there were four candidates in the field, and General Jackson did -not secure a majority of the votes of all the electoral colleges, -the choice of a President went, under the Constitution, into the -lower House of Congress, in which the members vote for a President -not individually as representing the people, but by delegations as -representing the sovereign States. John Quincy Adams secured a majority -of the delegations; but such was the popular indignation that in the -next House of Representatives President Adams found himself confronted -by an overwhelming opposition; and at the end of his term of office -General Jackson was made President by a majority of more than two -to one against him. Jackson was twice elected, and transmitted his -power to his Secretary of State, Martin Van Buren of New York, in the -election of 1836. Between the years 1840 and 1860 the predominance of -the Democratic party was but twice disturbed. In 1840 the Democratic -President Van Buren, being a candidate for re-election, was defeated -after a very severe struggle by General Harrison, the candidate of a -conglomerate party which, for lack of a better, had taken the name -of the “Whig” party, and which represented in a general way the -Anti-Democratic classes of the country, and more particularly the -banking interests and the Protectionists, of whom more hereafter. The -real and brilliant leader of this party, Henry Clay of Kentucky, had -been deprived of the presidential nomination through the machinations -of a nominating device unknown to the Constitution, called a -“Presidential Convention;” and though the Whig candidate secured a -great majority in the electoral colleges, thanks to the skill with -which his managers played upon the financial distress of the country -caused by a great business panic in 1837, yet when he unexpectedly -died at the end of a single short month after his inauguration, the -Vice-President elected with him and who succeeded him, Mr. Tyler -of Virginia, originally a Democrat, was found to be opposed to the -rechartering of a United States Bank; and a bill passed by both Houses -for that purpose, which had been indeed the main purpose of the leading -Whigs in promoting the election of Harrison and Tyler, was twice vetoed -by him. This was the first lesson given to the American people of the -potential importance of the Vice-Presidency in case of the death or -disability of the President. Curiously enough, the same lesson, which -has been repeated several times since, has, in every instance, with one -exception, followed upon the election of a President by Anti-Democratic -votes. - -Henry Clay, who was enthusiastically nominated and supported by the -“Whig” party for the Presidency at the close of President Tyler’s -administration in 1844, was defeated by the Democratic nominee, Mr. -Polk of Tennessee, under whom the annexation of the magnificent -Republic of Texas to the United States was consummated, with its -inevitable corollary of a war with Mexico, that republic refusing to -acknowledge the right of the people of Texas to sever their connection -with the Mexican States. This war led immediately to the cession -by Mexico to the United States of New Mexico, California, and the -Northern Pacific coast of the old Spanish dominions in North America, -and ultimately to the settlement of the boundary lines on the Pacific -between the dominions of Great Britain and the United States. At the -close of President Polk’s administration, the “Whigs,” who had been -disheartened and “demoralised” by the defeat of their “magnetic” -leader, Henry Clay, in 1844, made a second effort to capture executive -power. The occasion was offered to them by a schism in the Democratic -party, which had begun on personal grounds when Ex-President Van Buren, -who desired a renomination, was set aside in 1844 for Mr. Polk, and -which was intensified on broader issues by the determination of many -Northern Democrats not to permit the extension of slavery into the vast -and splendid territories acquired under President Polk. - -It is far from being true, as I shall presently show, that the -“Republican” party, so called, of our own times, which has just been -defeated under Mr. Blaine, originated the political action in the -United States which finally led to the extinction of slavery as an act -of war by President Lincoln. The “Republican” party of our own times, -deriving its origin from the “Federalists” of the last century, through -the “Whigs” of 1840, has been recently and not unfairly described by -Mr. John Bright as the “party of Protection and Monopoly.” This is so -far true that it represents those tendencies to a plausible paternalism -in government, and to a consolidation of the Federal power at the -expense of Home Rule and State sovereignty, which found expression -in Federalism at the beginning of our history; which threatened the -secession of New England and the establishment of an “Eastern Empire” -when Louisiana was purchased from France under President Jefferson; -which waged the “war of the banks” against President Jackson; and which -founded the “Whig” party of Henry Clay upon the doctrine that the -Federal Government might lawfully and constitutionally levy taxes upon -the consumers of imported goods for the express purpose of enhancing -the profits of domestic manufacturers. - -Governor Wright, a Democratic predecessor of Governor Cleveland in -the executive chair of the “Empire State,” who had supported the -renomination of Ex-President Van Buren in 1844, led, until his sudden -and lamented death in 1847, the opposition of Northern sentiment, after -the annexation of Texas, to any extension of slavery beyond the limits -assigned to it by the famous “Missouri Compromise” of 1820. The Whig -forerunners of Mr. Blaine were discreetly silent on the subject, and -the question was thrown into the arena of political discussion and -agitation by a Democratic Member of Congress from Pennsylvania, Mr. -Wilmot, who, during the boundary negotiations with Mexico, introduced -and moved the adoption of a “proviso,” that “no part of the territory -to be acquired should be open to the introduction of slavery.” - -This “proviso” was obviously unnecessary to the exclusion of slavery -from any “part of the territory to be acquired,” for negro slavery -had been long before abolished in New Mexico and in California under -Mexican law; and the Democratic party of the United States had laid it -down as a cardinal principle of Democratic policy, involved indeed, as -many Democrats thought, in the principle of Home Rule, that there was -“no power in Congress to legislate upon slavery in the Territories.” -The introduction of the “proviso” therefore led, and could lead, solely -to an immediately sterile, but eventually most dangerous, inflammation -of the public mind on the question of the relations of slavery, as an -institution already existing within the Union, to the politics of the -country. The “proviso” was defeated in Congress; but the discussion had -aroused the abolitionists of the North on the one hand, and the extreme -pro-slavery men at the South on the other side, into loud and angry -debate; and the opportunity of “forcing an issue” was seized by Mr. -Calhoun of South Carolina, a man of the highest character and of keen -intellect, who honestly believed that the South must be sooner or later -driven in self-defence to withdraw from the Union, and who had brought -his State and himself in 1832, on the question of the right of a State -to “nullify” a Federal law, within striking distance of the executive -authority wielded by the iron hand of President Jackson. - -Mr. Calhoun introduced into the Senate, on the 19th of February, 1847, -a series of resolutions denying the right of Congress to pass any law -which would have the effect of preventing any citizen of a slave State -from carrying slaves as his property into any territory. No vote was -taken on these resolutions, but they served Mr. Calhoun’s purpose of -awakening public sentiment at the South to the threatening attitude of -the anti-slavery sentiment at the North. - -The “Whigs,” with whom Mr. Lincoln then acted, profited adroitly by -this excitement in both sections. They avoided the subject of slavery -altogether, and nominated for the Presidency in 1848 General Taylor, -a slaveholder of Louisiana, who had won a wide and well-deserved -popularity as a military commander in the Mexican war, and a man -of “moderate” views on all subjects. With him they associated -Mr. Fillmore, a respectable citizen of New York. The friends of -Ex-President Van Buren united in that State with the anti-slavery men -in an independent nomination of Ex-President Van Buren and Mr. Charles -Francis Adams, as the candidates of a new third party which took the -name of the “Free Soil” party. This party declared that Congress had -no right to interfere with slavery in the States in which it already -existed; that it was the duty of Congress to prohibit slavery in the -Territories; and that Congress had a constitutional right to abolish -slavery in the Federal district of Columbia, which is the seat of the -Federal Government. The result of all this was the election of Taylor -and Fillmore, who received 163 votes in the electoral colleges against -127 cast for Cass and Butler, the Democratic candidates, and a popular -plurality over those candidates of less than 150,000 in a total of -somewhat less than 3,000,000 votes. - -But the “Whig” triumph was short-lived. The gold discoveries in -California gave such a sudden and tremendous impetus to the settlement -of the new Pacific empire of the Union as “forced the hand” of the new -Administration; and General Taylor dying in July 1849, while Congress -and the country were hotly contending over the social and political -organization of that new empire, his successor, Mr. Fillmore, with -Daniel Webster as his Secretary of State, threw the weight of the -Administration against the anti-slavery agitation and in favor of what -were called the “Compromise Measures” of 1850. These measures admitted -California without extending to the Pacific the boundary line between -free and slave territory fixed by the “Missouri Compromise” of 1820, -and left slavery untouched in the Federal district. Of course such a -compromise neither quieted the alarms of the slaveholding South nor -satisfied the aggressive abolitionists of the North. But the country -accepted it, and at the next Presidential election, in 1852, the -Democratic candidate, General Pierce of New Hampshire, was elected by -an overwhelming majority, carrying four of the New England States, -the great Middle States of New York and Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, -Indiana, and Illinois at the West, all the Southern States, excepting -Kentucky and Tennessee, and the new State on the Pacific, California. -He received 254 electoral votes against 42 thrown for his Whig -antagonist, General Scott, who had led the armies of the Union to their -crowning victories in Mexico, and who had been a conspicuous military -personage in the United States ever since the second war of 1812 with -Great Britain. - -There could scarcely have been a more decisive proof than this election -gave that the Democratic party of the United States is really the -permanent and enduring “party of the people,” without distinction of -sections; for the tremendous victory won by General Pierce was -distinctly due to the general, though, as it proved, the mistaken, -impression of the masses of the people, that the irritating question -of slavery in its Federal relations had been taken out of the arena -of politics by the “Compromise Measures” of 1850. This was so clear -that the opponents of the Democratic party, representing the shattered -elements of the Whig party and the friends, as Mr. Bright would say, -of “Protection and Monopoly,” changed front suddenly and concentrated -all their efforts on a revival and extension of the anti-slavery -agitation, as being the only program which offered them a hope of -breaking down again, even for a time, the ascendency of Democratic -principles. In this effort they were naturally seconded not only by the -Northern abolitionists, but by the extreme partisans of slavery at the -South. The value of slave property had been enormously increased by -the sudden development of trade and manufactures all over the world, -and especially in Great Britain and the United States, which resulted -from the gold discoveries in California and Australia, and from the -adoption, first in the United States under a great Democratic Secretary -of the Treasury, Robert J. Walker, in 1846, of a liberal tariff, and -then, in Great Britain, of what is not perhaps with perfect accuracy -called the “Free Trade” policy of Mr. Bright and Mr. Cobden. One -might almost say that the cotton manufacturers of Lancashire and New -England fell into a conspiracy to delude the slaveholders of the South -into those dreams of a vast slaveholding empire surrounding the Gulf -of Mexico, which began, at the period of which I now write, to shake -the foundations of the Union by fascinating the minds of grasping and -ambitious men in that part of the United States. - -In February, 1853, before the inauguration of President Pierce, -a Democratic Senator, Mr. Douglas, of Illinois, who had been an -unsuccessful candidate for the Presidential nomination in the preceding -year, took the occasion presented by a bill for organizing a new -Western Territory, Nebraska (which included the two now existing States -of Nebraska and of Kansas), to propose a repeal of the old “Missouri -Compromise,” to which I have more than once alluded. By this measure—a -“Federalist,” not a Democratic measure—adopted in 1820, it was -provided that slavery should never be carried into any Territory north -of the fixed line of 36° 30´ north latitude. I have already mentioned -that Congress refused to extend this line to the Pacific during the -discussions which attended the admission of California in 1850; and -I am sure that no one who knew Senator Douglas will differ from me -now, when I say that he undoubtedly hoped by urging the repeal of the -Missouri Compromise, which was voted by Congress the 25th of May, -1854, to get the whole question whether slavery should or should not -be introduced into new Territories, and so into the new States of the -Union, relegated from the domain of Congressional action into that -of “popular sovereignty.” It was not the purpose either of the small -minority at the South who desired disunion as the first step towards -the founding of a “semi-tropical empire,” or of the more considerable -minority at the North who preferred the risk of disunion to the -toleration of slavery under the American flag, that this question -should be taken out of the domain of Congressional action, and the -expectations of Senator Douglas were disappointed. The repeal of the -“Missouri Compromise” simply turned Kansas into a battle-ground. It led -rapidly up to a succession of armed conflicts within that Territory -between organised bands of Northern and of Southern “emigrants,” which -set fire to the popular passions in both sections of the country, -“swamped” the attempt of a section of the now disbanding “Whig” party -to capture power by organising the prejudices of race and of religion -into a secret political order of “Native Americans” or “Know-nothings,” -and gave vitality and success to the more serious and sustained efforts -of a much larger section of the “Whigs,” who devoted themselves to -founding a new party which should combine the permanent objects “of -Protection and Monopoly” with the temporary and immediate object of -restricting slavery within the limits of the then existing slave -States. Thanks to this section of the “Whigs,” the modern “Republican -Party” was formed in 1854, which, after precipitating the country -into civil war by the election of President Lincoln (against whom it -revolted, as I shall show, when he had carried through to victory the -terrible task it imposed upon him), after retarding the pacification -of the Union for years by its policy of military “reconstruction” at -the South, and after inflicting upon the taxpayers of the United States -burdens undreamed of by the original “Whigs” in their most extravagant -days of “paternalism,” has now finally come to the ground under the -candidacy of two of its most thoroughly representative leaders, Mr. -Blaine and General Logan. - -The chief spirit of the new “Republican” party was Ex-Governor -Seward, the leader of the Whigs of New York, a consummate politician, -“honest himself,” as one of his special friends said of him, “but -indifferent to honesty in others,” who labored with uncommon skill -and adroitness for six years to build the new organisation up into -Presidential proportions, only to experience the common fate of such -party leaders in the United States, and to find himself set aside by -his own Republican Convention of 1860, at Chicago, in favor of the then -relatively obscure Western candidate Abraham Lincoln, of Illinois. - -The old name “Republican” used by the party of Jefferson was taken by -the new party for the express purpose of dissimulating, as far as might -be, its “Whig” parentage, and of thus recommending it to the widespread -and growing anti-slavery element among the Democrats of the North -and West. The Whig origin and tendencies of the new party, however, -clearly appeared in the demand made in its first platform of 1856 for -“appropriations by Congress for the improvement of rivers and harbors.” -It selected as its first Presidential candidate in 1856 Colonel John -C. Fremont of California, an officer of the army who had married the -daughter of an eminent Democratic senator, Mr. Benton of Missouri, and -who had acquired a kind of romantic popular prestige as “the Pathfinder -of the Rocky Mountains” by an expedition across the continent. With him -was associated as Vice-Presidential candidate a man of more political -weight and force, Mr. Dayton, a Whig leader, of New Jersey, who -afterwards rendered the country distinguished services as Minister -to France under President Lincoln. Mr. Buchanan of Pennsylvania was -nominated by the Democrats to succeed President Pierce in 1856. In the -“platform” then adopted the Democratic party met the “Protectionist” -tendency of the new “Republican” organisation by declaring “that -justice and sound policy forbid the Federal Government to foster one -branch of industry to the detriment of another;” denounced the attempt -of the Whig “Know-Nothings” to organise a crusade against Catholics -and citizens of alien birth; and in the matter of slavery reaffirmed -“the compromise of 1850,” and committed itself to “the determined -conservation of the Union and the non-interference of Congress with -slavery in the territories or the district of Columbia.” - -The new “Republican party” in its “platform” of 1856, let me here -observe, raised no question touching slavery where slavery then -existed, but pronounced it to be “both the right and the imperative -duty of Congress to prohibit in the Territories those twin relics of -barbarism, polygamy and slavery;” this latter attack on the Mormons -being a bid for votes at the West and an appeal to the religious -prejudices of the East. - -A third remnant of the old “Whigs,” meeting in Baltimore in September -1856, appealed to the country to beware of “geographical parties,” -adopted the nomination made by the Whig “Know-Nothings” of Ex-President -Fillmore, and asserted that in Kansas “civil war” was “raging,” and -that the Union was “in peril.” The contest was conducted by the -Republicans at the North very much on the lines on which the first -Whig victory of 1840 had been won—by the organisation, that is, of -“Pathfinder Clubs” and processions, with brass bands, bonfires, and all -the paraphernalia of “politics by picnic,” and a large popular vote was -cast for the Republican candidate. But Mr. Buchanan, nevertheless had a -majority of nearly 500,000 votes over Colonel Fremont at the polls in a -total vote of about three millions, and he was elected President by -174 votes in the Electoral College, eight votes being cast by Maryland -for Mr. Fillmore, and 114 votes being cast for Colonel Fremont, if the -five votes of Wisconsin were properly included in that number—a very -grave question as to that point being raised by the undisputed fact -that the electoral votes of Wisconsin, which, under an obviously wise -precept of the Constitution, ought to have been cast on the same day -with the electoral votes of all the other States of the Union (December -3, 1856), were not cast until the next day (December 4) because the -electors were prevented by a snowstorm from reaching the capital of the -State in season to comply with the behest of the organic law. - -Events moved rapidly after the election of President Buchanan. In spite -of a great financial panic in 1857, the commerce of the United States, -under the salutary régime established by Democratic Secretaries of the -Treasury, advanced beyond all former precedent. The net imports of the -United States increased from 298,261,364 dollars in 1856, the year of -Mr. Buchanan’s election, to 335,233,232 dollars in 1860, the last year -of his administration, and the exports from 310,586,330 dollars in 1856 -to 373,189,274 dollars in 1860. The sea going tonnage of the Union -ran up to that of Great Britain;[4] and never had the country been so -prosperous as during this period of Democratic ascendancy and relative -fiscal freedom. - -But while the managers of the new sectional Republican party worked -night and day to develop and consolidate their voting power at the -North and West, and availed themselves skilfully of every exciting -incident in the history of the day to fan the passions of the people -into flame, a sharp conflict was raging within the Democratic ranks -between the Administration and the followers of Senator Douglas, -which the leaders of the disunion movement at the South carefully and -skilfully fomented, and which culminated in an open secession from the -Democratic National Convention at Charleston in April 1860. - -The Convention was adjourned to meet at Baltimore in June. There -a second secession of Southern delegates occurred, followed by -the nomination for the Presidency of Senator Douglas. A few days -later the seceders, meeting in a Convention of their own, nominated -Vice-President Breckenridge of Kentucky. In the meantime on the 9th -of May a convention of “moderate men” of all shades of opinion had -assembled in Baltimore, and nominated two eminent members of the -disbanded Whig party, Mr. Bell of Tennessee and Mr. Edward Everett -of Massachusetts, for the Presidency and the Vice-Presidency; while -the now confident Republicans, gathered in Convention at Chicago on -the 16th of May, had selected not Ex-Governor Seward of New York, but -Abraham Lincoln of Illinois, as their candidate. - -Of course, with such a prospect of success before them as the -Democratic disorganisation offered, the managers of this Convention -of the Republicans adroitly threw all questions but the “burning -questions” of the hour as far as possible into the background of -their operations. But while they declared themselves in favor of the -preservation of “the Federal Constitution, the rights of the States, -and the union of the States,” they did not forget to record their -desire for such an “adjustment” of the “duties on imports” as “should -encourage the development of the industrial interests of the whole -country,” under which rather vague phraseology lay concealed the -purpose of organising a new tariff for protection—a purpose which was -carried into effect by the Republicans at Washington as soon as the -subsequent secession from Congress of the Southern members made it -practicable. - - * * * * * - -With the first election of Abraham Lincoln in November 1860, and -his inauguration in March, 1861, we come upon a sudden and complete -“solution of continuity” in the political history of the United States. -Of the total popular vote of the country, amounting to 4,680,193, -thrown on the 4th of November, 1860, Mr. Lincoln received but 1,866,452, -being thus left in a popular minority of no fewer than _two million, -two hundred and thirteen thousand, seven hundred and fifty-one votes_! -It is impossible in the face of these figures to doubt that if the -tremendous issue of peace and war between the two great sections of -the Union, which really lay hidden in the ballot-boxes of the Union on -that November day, had been never so dimly perceived by the American -people, the verdict of the nation would have made an end that day of -the new “Republican,” party. But neither Mr. Lincoln himself, nor -Mr. Seward, nor any considerable number of the Republican voters of -the North and the West believed, or could be made to believe, in the -reality of this issue. It came upon them all and upon the country at -last, after all the agitation and all the warnings of years, like “a -thief in the night,” and coming upon the country it suspended for four -long and dismal years the normal action of the constitution, and the -normal development therefore of public opinion through the channels of -constitutional politics. - -It is juggling with phrases to say that from the 5th of March, 1861, -to the 15th of April, 1865, Mr. Lincoln was, in any true sense of -the words, a President of the United States with a political party -at his back. He was to all intents and purposes a war dictator of -the Northern and Western States, maintaining with all the resources -of those sections of the country the fabric of the American Union -against the armed and persistent efforts of thirteen sovereign States -banded together in a confederacy to make an end of its authority and -its existence so far as concerned its relations with them and with -their inhabitants. To this colossal task Mr. Lincoln brought, as I -think the most impartial critics of his administration in my own -party now admit, most rare and remarkable gifts of character and of -mind. It has been not uncommon among those who, since his death, have -constituted themselves the special eulogists of this extraordinary man, -to represent him as struggling from the first, not merely against the -enormous difficulties arrayed in his path by the energy, and wealth, -and determination of the seceding Confederacy, but against the ill-will -and infidelity to his trust of the Democratic President whom Mr. -Lincoln was elected by the North and the West to succeed. This is not -the place for any vindication in this point of President Buchanan. -He has had no lack of critics within the ranks of my own party. But -no man who was present during that fateful winter of 1860-61 in -Washington, and who was really conversant with men and things there, -will need to be told that but for President Buchanan’s fidelity to his -constitutional oath, and to the behest of the party which elected him -in 1856 to “uphold the Union,” the Civil War would probably have begun -in Washington itself before Mr. Lincoln set foot within the capital. - -On the day of Mr. Lincoln’s inauguration, a day never to be forgotten -by any American who witnessed the scene, it was the presence by the -side of Mr. Lincoln of his great Northern Democratic rival, Senator -Douglas, which more than all the bayonets of the troops assembled -for the protection of Washington by General Scott, under orders from -President Buchanan, convinced the most intelligent of the Southern men -that the Union was not to be dissolved like snow in the sunbeams, and -gave all the weight of the Democratic masses of the North and West to -the new President’s deliberate declaration that the forts and property -of the United States would be “held and occupied” by all the power of -the unseceded States. - -The one member of Mr. Lincoln’s Cabinet who from the beginning foresaw -the gravity of the impending contest, and who put the whole pressure -of his personal influence upon the new President almost to the extent -of compelling him into asserting his authority by force of arms, was -not the Whig who had organised the “Republican” party, Mr. Seward, -It was Mr. Montgomery Blair, a “Democrat” by training, the son of -the confidential adviser of President Jackson and the brother of a -Democratic general in the Union armies who was afterwards nominated -for the Vice-Presidency on the same ticket with Governor Seymour of -New York in 1868 by the Democratic party. Mr. Montgomery Blair himself -left Mr. Lincoln’s Cabinet in July 1864, escaped the war made by the -“Republican” party under Sumner and Stevens upon the friends of -President Lincoln, after the assassination of the President by a -melodramatic madman, and became a trusty ally of Governor Tilden of New -York, the Democratic candidate who was elected to the Presidency of the -United States in 1876 by a popular majority of nearly 300,000 votes in -a total poll of a little over 8,000,000, and by a majority of one vote -in the electoral colleges, only to be defrauded of his office by the -audacious tampering of a cabal of Republican office-holders with the -votes of three Southern States. - -It is not my purpose, and it would swell this paper beyond all -reasonable limits, to sketch here, even in outline, the political -annals of the quarter of a century which stretches now between the -election of Abraham Lincoln in 1860 and the election of Governor -Cleveland in 1884. I may assume my readers to have a general knowledge -of the main features of this period of American history. No intelligent -man can be familiar even with the distorted and partial presentation -of those features which has hitherto passed current on both sides of -the Atlantic, without asking himself what the magic virtue can be which -has carried the great Democratic party of the United States steadily -onward through so many years of exclusion from executive power and such -storms of systematic obloquy, enabling it amid the passions of a fierce -sectional conflict to retain such a popular support throughout the -North and West as has persistently threatened the tenure of the Federal -authority by its all-powerful and never over-scrupulous opponents, -giving it again and again control of the popular branch of the Federal -Congress, and commanding for it, as soon as the restoration of the -Union became in truth an accomplished fact, an unquestioned majority of -the suffrages of the American people. - -My object has been to indicate the true answer to this question by -setting forth the foundations on which the Democratic party of the -United States was planted by its great leaders in the very dawn of our -national history. - -No man ever learned by practical experience of the responsibilities of -power to appreciate the solidity of these foundations more thoroughly -than President Lincoln. A “Whig” by his early political affiliations -and an active and successful politician in times of high party -excitement, President Lincoln was not a partisan by temperament, -and nothing is more certain than that he came during his practical -war-dictatorship to very sound conclusions as to the essentially -ephemeral character of the political organisation which had lifted -him into that trying and dangerous post. He had no respect at all for -professional “philanthropists,” and not much for loudly “philanthropic” -politicians. The abolitionist agitators of the North instinctively -disliked and distrusted him. The ablest of their number, Mr. Wendell -Phillips, sneered at him as being not “honest exactly, but Kentucky -honest.” It was no confidence in President Lincoln, but the political -necessity of the moment, which compelled the extreme Anti-Democratic -leaders of the Republican party to acquiesce in his renomination in -November 1864, with a Democratic ex-Senator from the South, Andrew -Johnson of Tennessee, as his associate on the Presidential ticket. -Of this fact President Lincoln himself was well aware. Nor was he -blind to the popular and political significance of that Presidential -election of 1864. In spite of all that could be done by an army of -Federal office-holders larger than the armed force which Mr. Seward -at the outset of the civil war had imagined would be adequate to -“suppress the rebellion;” in spite of the combined influence of the -“Republican” local governments in the Northern and Western States; -in spite of military force brought to bear openly upon the polls in -regions undisturbed by war; in spite of the overshadowing fact that -the issues of the great civil war were still being fought out in the -field, the Democratic party of the North and West confronted the -Republican President at the polls in November 1864 with a popular vote -of nearly two millions out of four millions cast in those sections of -the Republic! The exact figures show that General M’Clellan, whose -popularity with the Democratic party was based upon his fame as the -creator of the Union army of the Potomac and upon his expressed loyalty -to the principles of the Constitution as the Democratic party holds -them, received, in November 1864, 1,802,237 votes in the North and -West, or within a few thousands of the 1,866,452 votes which were cast -for Mr. Lincoln himself in November 1860! - -President Lincoln had shrewd sense enough to see that as the -maintenance of the authority of the Union had only been made possible -to him by the unswerving determination of the Northern and Western -Democratic party that the authority of the Union should be maintained -under the Constitution, so the restoration of peace within the Union -could only be achieved by accepting the Democratic construction of -the position and the rights of all the States in the Union under the -Constitution, of the seceded as well as of the unseceded States; and he -had patriotism enough to resolve that peace should be restored within -the Union, no matter what became of the ephemeral “Republican” party -which had been called into existence and carried into power chiefly by -the force of the sectional passions which had found final expression in -the civil war. He had gone beyond the Constitution under the war power -in abolishing slavery, and he knew that in abolishing slavery he had -abolished the vital impulse to which the “Republican” party owed its -existence. He knew too that the extreme “Republican” partisans by whom -he was surrounded knew this as well as he, and he was thoroughly aware -that there were among them men like Thaddeus Stevens of Pennsylvania, -who were prepared and determined if possible to keep the sectional -passions which slavery had evoked alive and burning after slavery -itself should have disappeared, and to organise for themselves a new -lease of power at the expense of the peace of the country and of the -happiness and prosperity of millions of their fellow-countrymen. - -At the beginning of the war President Lincoln had met the challenge -thrown down to him by the Confederate War Department on the lines -indicated by a great Democratic jurist, the late Judge Black of -Pennsylvania, in his “Opinion upon the Powers of the President,” -prepared at the request of President Buchanan, in whose Cabinet Judge -Black had successively held the posts of Attorney-General and of -Secretary of State. - - If one of the States (wrote Judge Black) should - declare her independence, your action cannot depend - upon the rightfulness of the cause upon which such - declaration is based. Whether the retirement of a - State from the Union be the exercise of a right - reserved in the Constitution, or a revolutionary - movement, it is certain that you have not in either - case the authority to recognise her independence or - to absolve her from her Federal obligations. Congress - or the other States in Convention assembled must take - such measures as may be necessary and proper. In - such an event I can see no course for you but to go - straight onward in the path which you have hitherto - trodden—that is, execute the laws to the extent - of the defensive means placed in your hands, and - act generally upon the assumption that the present - constitutional relations between the States and the - Federal Government continue to exist until a new - order of things shall be established either by law or - by force. - -The seceding States attempted to establish “a new order of things -by force,” and maintained that attempt for four years with such -resolution, pertinacity, and courage as more than once brought them -within what an eminent English statesman would perhaps call such a -“measurable distance” of success as may well explain the conviction -expressed in England at one period of the struggle, that Jefferson -Davis had “established a nation.” - -Upon the failure of the Confederate experiment, President Lincoln, in -spite of the bitter and threatening hostility to him of a number of -the most conspicuous leaders of the Republican party in and out of -Congress, wisely and consistently determined to adhere to the position -involved in Judge Black’s opinion that the constitutional relations -between the States and the Federal Government could not be and had -not been shaken by the contest. After the Confederate Government had -abandoned Richmond, he visited that capital as President of the United -States, and in words made pathetic and historical by the deplorable -and senseless crime which was so soon to shock the country and the -civilised world, proclaimed his intention to administer the Government -“with malice towards none, with charity for all.” In his last public -speech, delivered on the 11th of April, 1865, two days only before his -assassination, he spoke of the seceded States as already restored to -their places in the Union, and said of them in his quaint and homely -fashion that, “finding themselves safely at home, it would be -utterly immaterial whether they had been abroad.” Mr. Gideon Welles -of Connecticut, to whom the portfolio of the Navy had been given -by President Lincoln in his first Cabinet, as a representative of -the Democratic wing of the then newly-organized “Republican” party, -tells us that at a Cabinet meeting held on the last day of President -Lincoln’s life, April 13, 1865, the President urged all the members of -the Cabinet to exert their influence to get all the State Governments -of the lately seceded States of the South “going again before the -annual meeting of Congress in December.” This meant, of course, that -President Lincoln intended and expected the lately seceded States to -send to Washington their proper and constitutional quota of senators -and representatives freely elected under the local franchise in each of -those States. His purpose was to secure the ratification by the seceded -States of the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution abolishing -slavery formally, and then to accept them as in all respects States -within the Union. In the Emancipation Proclamation of the 22nd of -September, 1862, which President Lincoln had issued avowedly as a war -measure, he had taken pains to declare that his object in prosecuting -the war as “Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy” of the United -States, was, had been, and would be, “practically to restore the -constitutional relation between the United States and each of the -States and the people thereof in which that relation was or might be -suspended.” - -This was not at all the object of the unscrupulous and reckless leaders -who took command of the “Republican” party upon the death of President -Lincoln, and under whom Mr. Blaine first made a figure upon the field -of Federal politics. - -A clear line will be drawn by the historian between the war -administration of the President who upheld the Union and the dismal -epoch of Southern reconstruction which followed—an epoch of -unconstitutional Congressional despotism, mitigated only from time -to time by the personal authority of General Grant. The story of the -relations of General Grant as President of the United States with the -party which found itself compelled to take advantage of his unbounded -popularity as the surest means of retaining its grasp upon authority at -Washington will one day constitute a most interesting and instructive -chapter in the history of government, but it lies outside the scope -of this paper. That General Grant would gladly have co-operated with -President Lincoln in carrying out his plan of re-establishing the -Union on Democratic and constitutional lines may be inferred not only -from the fact which he has stated, that the only vote he ever cast -before the civil war was for a Democratic President, but from the more -significant fact that he was so fully convinced of the readiness of -the Southern States to accept the results of the civil war in good -faith, that, immediately after the accession of President Johnson in -1865, he urged upon the President the importance of throwing a combined -army of Union and of Confederate soldiers into Mexico for the purpose -of expelling the French under Bazaine, and compelling Maximilian to -abandon the hopeless attempt to found an empire in the land of the -Montezumas which eventually cost that gallant but unfortunate prince -his life. President Johnson eagerly adopted General Grant’s suggestion, -but the Secretary of State Mr. Seward, opposed it, and Mr. Seward’s -objection was fatal. “It cost Maximilian his life,” General Grant -tells us, “and gave Napoleon the Third five more years of power in -France.” He might have added that it cost the people of the Southern -States ten years of the most odious and corrupting mal-administration -recorded in modern history—mal-administration which, but for the solid -political capacity and the traditional common sense and patriotism of -the Americans of the Southern States, must have reduced the fairest -portion of the North American continent to a social and industrial -chaos without precedent in the annals of modern civilisation. - -The evil influences of that dark epoch extended themselves in all -directions North and South, cropping out in organised official -peculations, in shameless political dishonesty, in reckless -speculation, in monstrous lobbying, and in incredible excesses of -public extravagance, based upon such a system of inordinate and -unconstitutional taxation as no American in his senses could have been -brought, before the outbreak of the civil war, to believe would ever -for a moment be tolerated by the American people. - - * * * * * - -It was to make an end of all this that the people of the United States -in 1876 elected one Democratic Governor of New York to the Presidency. -Defeated then of their will by the Republican agents of reconstruction, -the people of the United States had now at last in 1884 compelled -their voice to be heard and to be respected. With the inauguration -of Governor Cleveland in March 1885, the Federal Government of the -United States will be once more organised upon the enduring Democratic -foundations of respect for Home Rule at the South and at the North, in -the East and in the West, and of a strict limitation of the functions -of the Federal Government to the powers granted and prescribed to it by -the Constitution. - -If I have done anything like justice in this necessarily hasty sketch -to the origin and development of the Democratic party of the United -States, my readers will not need to be told that its advent to power at -this time opens a new and most important chapter in the annals of the -American Republic. It involves much, very much more than the transfer -of executive power from one to another set of administrative officers. - -It closes definitely an era of such political disease and corruption in -the United States as I have preferred rather to indicate than to dwell -upon here. Work of that sort, in my judgment, may as well be confined -to the domestic laundry. Quite enough of it has been done for the -edification of mankind at large by certain of my countrymen who have -hitherto found it more convenient to bewail the political profligacy of -those to whom “respectable Republicans” chose to surrender the control -of the Republican party after the murder of President Lincoln “cried -havoc and let slip the dogs of faction” than to co-operate resolutely -with the great Democratic party in making the Union once more solid, -and settling it upon its only possible foundations—Home Rule and a -strict construction of the Constitution. - -It is easy to draw dramatic pictures of the demoralisation of American -politics; but there is more significance surely for thoughtful men -in the returns, which show that the candidacy of Mr. Blaine and Mr. -Logan has cut down the plurality of the Republican party in “moral” -Massachusetts from more than fifty thousand to ten thousand votes; in -Illinois, from over forty thousand to fifteen thousand; in Michigan, -from more than fifty thousand to barely two thousand; in Ohio, -from more than thirty thousand to eleven thousand. It has made the -Democratic Governor of New York President by an electoral majority of -37 votes and a popular plurality of about 400,000 votes. Less is to be -learned of the deep and lasting currents of popular thought and feeling -in the United States from an elaborate study of the absurd abominations -of Republican “Reconstruction” at the South than from the handwriting -of fire on the polling-places of the Empire State which illuminated the -Belshazzar’s Feast of Mr. Blaine’s “millionaires” on the eve of the -Presidential Election of 1884! - - * * * * * - -In a certain sense, President Cleveland will occupy a position -not unlike that of President Lincoln at the outset of his first -Presidency. But the task of the Democratic chief magistrate who goes -to Washington with a great historical party at his back, to restore -the well-understood metes and bounds of the Federal authority over -thirty-eight free and independent States will be a less troublesome -and in its immediate results ought to be an infinitely more benign -and grateful task, than that of the reluctant war dictator who found -himself, against all his expectations, driven by angry sections, with -a mixed and undisciplined mob of placemen, of monopolists, and of -philanthropists behind him, into cutting with the sword the Gordian -knot of slavery, at the risk of severing with it forever the golden -bands of the Union, and those “mystic chords of memory” of which he -spoke with such a wistful pathos in his inaugural address. Some points -of resemblance may be found, too, between the personal histories of -Lincoln and of Cleveland. Like Mr. Lincoln, Governor Cleveland comes -of an old American stock. His family name smacks of Yorkshire, and his -direct ancestors established themselves in Massachusetts nearly two -hundred years ago. One of the family, a Cambridge man, and a clergyman -of the Anglican Church, died at Philadelphia under the roof of his -friend Benjamin Franklin twenty years before the American Revolution. -Another, who sat in the Legislature of Connecticut, and who was a -minister of the Independents, is remembered as an early advocate in -that “land of steady habits” of the abolition of African slavery, and -this at a time when the worthy citizens of Massachusetts thought it -expedient to keep the Bay State clear of negro blood by ordaining in -their organic law that any African “not a subject of our faithful ally -the Emperor of Morocco” who ventured twice across the Massachusetts -border should be on each occasion whipped, imprisoned and sent away, -and that if this did not restrain his ardor, he should upon his third -advent be so dealt with as to put an effectual stop to his travels. - -Richard Cleveland, a grandson of the Connecticut abolitionist, married -the daughter of an Irish bookseller in Philadelphia, Miss Neale, -and was the father of the new President of the United States. He -was settled as a Presbyterian minister in the New Jersey village of -Caldwell, and there on the 18th of March, 1838, Grover Cleveland was -born. His father left New Jersey when he was but a child, and went in -the service of the religious body to which he belonged to live in New -York. The circumstances of the family were much better, I need not say, -than those amid which the youth of Lincoln, the son of an emigrant -Virginian, was passed in the wilds of Kentucky and Southern Illinois. -But Grover Cleveland, like Lincoln, was early thrown upon his own -resources. When he was a lad of sixteen his father died, and he was -left to conquer for himself the education he was determined to have, -and to make his own way in the world with such small help as a brother -and an uncle could afford him, both of them battling with life, and -both of them counting, not in vain, upon the young student’s aid in the -maintenance of his widowed mother and her young family. - -His twenty-first year found the future President admitted to the Bar -in Buffalo, the chief city of Western New York. He distinguished -himself from the outset of his professional career by his indomitable -industry and his devotion to duty. These qualities soon secured for -him the honorable but laborious post of Assistant District Attorney. -He was not blinded by the glamor and glitter of the “great Civil War” -to the rascalities of Reconstruction, but adopted the Democratic -faith in politics, though living in a strongly Republican city. In -1870 he was elected Sheriff of Buffalo, and twelve years afterwards, -having returned meanwhile to a successful practice at the Bar, the -best citizens of Buffalo of all parties rallied to his support as the -Democratic candidate for the Mayoralty, in a contest which curiously -prefigured, on a smaller arena, the Presidential campaign of 1884. -The taxpayers of Buffalo had been systematically plundered by a -Republican “municipal ring,” just as the taxpayers of New York many -years ago were plundered by the Democratic municipal ring of Tweed -and Sweeney, of which so much and such unscrupulous use has been made -by Republican writers and speakers to vilify the Democratic party. -It has not usually occurred to these ingenious party trumpeters to -insist upon the fact that the “Tweed ring” was broken and that its -members were brought to chastisement mainly through the persistent -efforts of two distinguished Democrats. - -One of these was the late Charles O’Conor, in his time the acknowledged -leader of the American Bar, and a Democratic candidate for the -Presidency in opposition to the headlong and absurd nomination of -Horace Greeley, a life-long Whig Protectionist, into which a Democratic -Convention allowed itself to be cajoled, despite the manly protest of -such true Democratic leaders as Senator Bayard at Baltimore in 1872. -The other was Mr. Samuel J. Tilden, whose services against the Tweed -ring led first to his election by the Democratic party as Governor of -New York in 1874, and then to his election as President of the United -States in 1876, the year of the great electoral fraud. - -The task which these distinguished Democrats assumed in New York Mr. -Cleveland took up in Buffalo, and carried through with such impartial -energy and courage that before the expiration of the first year of his -term of office as Mayor, he was invited by the Democrats of New York to -enter upon the larger stewardship of the State executive. He had been -chosen mayor of Buffalo in 1881, by a majority of 3,500 votes. He was -chosen Governor of New York in 1882 by a majority of nearly 200,000 in -a total poll of 893,000 votes. His opponent was Mr. Folger, a leading -Republican, who had sat with distinction on the bench of the highest -State Tribunal in New York, and who died the other day as Secretary -of the Treasury in the Cabinet of President Arthur; and it is an open -secret that the tremendous overthrow of the Republican candidate was -partially due to the machinations of the friends of Mr. Blaine who had -been dropped for cause from the Cabinet of President Arthur with some -emphasis in December of the preceding year. It was the calculation -of Mr. Blaine that the defeat of the President’s candidate in the -President’s own State of New York in 1882 would materially damage -Mr. Arthur’s chances and strengthen his own of securing a Republican -Presidential nomination at Chicago in 1884. It was a good calculation, -but whether the retrospect of the gubernatorial campaign of 1882 in New -York is as gratifying now to Mr. Blaine as it was two years ago may -perhaps be doubted. - -As Governor of New York, Mr. Cleveland has shown himself what he was -as Mayor of Buffalo—rigidly honest, indefatigable, simple in his -personal tastes and habits, disdainful of the silly state, and the -petty parade of official importance into which too many public servants -of the United States have suffered themselves to be seduced during the -reign of King Mammon at Washington. It has been his custom to walk -every morning from the Executive Mansion to the Governor’s Rooms in the -Capitol at Albany, and to spend the day there, incessantly occupied, -but always visible to those who have had any real occasion to see -him. It will be a wholesome thing to see the Presidential office once -more administered in this unostentatious fashion. Mr. Cleveland may -be called a representative of the Young Democracy, since he will go -into the White House a bachelor, like the last Democratic President, -Mr. Buchanan, but a young bachelor, the youngest President indeed yet -elected. In his fidelity to the traditions of Jefferson, who rode up -to the Capitol on horseback to be inaugurated, “hitched his horse to -a post,” took the oath and went about his business, Mr. Cleveland -will be supported by the new Vice-President—ex-Governor Hendricks -of Indiana, who represents the stanch and experienced Democratic -leaders who have borne the brunt of the intense political warfare -of the last quarter of a century with unwavering courage and signal -ability. As a representative in Congress, as a senator of the United -States, as Governor of the great Western State of Indiana, and as the -Democratic candidate for the Vice-Presidency on the same ticket with -Governor Tilden in 1876, Mr. Hendricks has linked his name with the -best traditions, and drawn to himself the general confidence of his -party. On the 6th of February, 1869, what is called a “concurrent -resolution” (which may be passed without requiring the assent of the -President) was introduced into the Senate under the “Reconstruction” -legislation of 1868, directing the President of the Senate to deal in -a particular manner with the vote of Georgia as “a State lately in -rebellion” and to allow that electoral vote to be alluded to only if -the counting or omitting to count it would not effect the decision of -the election in favor of either candidate. The candidates were General -Grant and Governor Seymour of New York. Mr. Hendricks, then a Senator -from Indiana, sustained with memorable force and conviction the right -of Georgia to her proper and unqualified voice in the election. One -Republican Senator alone voted against the “concurrent resolution,” -and that Senator, Mr. Trumbull of Illinois, is now a recognised leader -of the Democratic party in the State which gave Abraham Lincoln to the -Presidency. At the second election of Grant—Horace Greeley having -died immediately after the choice of the electors—most of the votes -given against General Grant were given to Mr. Hendricks; and in the -Democratic Convention of 1876 Mr. Hendricks who was the second choice -of a majority of the Convention after Governor Tilden, was eventually -nominated, almost against his will, for the Vice-Presidency. He is -a man of fine presence and dignified manners, who will preside with -ability and tact over that Upper House of the national Legislature -which stands as the fortress of Home Rule and State Rights, founded -upon the ideal constituency of State sovereignty, and set more safely -beyond the reach of the gusts of popular passion than the hereditary -principle in Europe. - -The first duty of the President Elect will be the selection of his -Cabinet officers. Under the American system these officers do not sit -in Congress, and, with the exception of the Secretary of the Treasury, -they are simply agents of the Executive. But it is customary to select -them from the most prominent and influential men of the party, and -with reference to the party strength in different sections of the -country. To recite the names of the men, any one of whom would be -accepted by public opinion in the United States as a fitting Cabinet -Minister of the new President, would really be almost to call the -roll of the Democratic Senators, now thirty-six in number out of a -Senate of Seventy-six members, and of the Democratic Chairmen of -Committees in the House, which as newly elected will be Democratic by -a majority of between thirty and forty votes. The names of Mr. Bayard -of Delaware, the leading candidate after Governor Cleveland at Chicago; -Mr. Thurman of Ohio, long the leading Democratic, with Senator Edmunds -as the Republican, “law lord” of the Senate, and the author of an Act -enforcing upon the great Pacific railway corporations their obligations -to the Government, which it has been left for a Democratic Executive to -carry into effect; General McClellan; Mr. Pendleton of Ohio, to whom -the country chiefly owes whatever measure of reasonable Civil Service -reform it enjoys; Mr. McDonald of Indiana, Mr. Lamar of Mississippi, -Mr. Hewitt and Mr. Kernan of New York, Mr. Garland of Arkansas, Mr. -Beck of Kentucky, Mr. Palmer of Illinois, have been already discussed -in the open councils of the party, and intelligent Americans of all -opinions will admit that a Cabinet framed of such materials would -deserve and command universal confidence. There are many other active -and experienced party men whom it might be troublesome to replace in -one or the other House of Congress, but there need be no fear that the -new President will be at a loss to find able counsellors to aid him in -discharging his great trust. - -The policy of the new Administration is involved and indicated in the -traditions of the party. In our foreign relations the United States -under a Democratic President will ask nothing of Europe except a -cordial maintenance of treaties, an extension of commercial relations -under equitable conditions, a full recognition of the accepted rules of -international law, a sedulous exemption everywhere of the persons and -property of American citizens from unnecessary annoyance by arbitrary -power. The State Department under President Cleveland may be expected -to be administered, not in the swash-bucklering and speculative fashion -which the Republican supporters of Mr. Blaine extolled during the late -canvass as brilliant and enterprising, but in the self-respecting, -self-contained, and dignified spirit which controlled our foreign -relations under ex-Governor Marcy of New York thirty years ago, and -which so honorably distinguished the administration of the same -department under ex-Governor Fish of New York from that of sundry other -high officers of State in the time of President Grant. - -Upon the Treasury Department will fall the responsibility of dealing -wisely and firmly with the most important domestic issue inherent in -the resumption of executive power by the party of the Constitution. -This can hardly be more authoritatively stated than it was a fortnight -ago by the Vice-President Elect, Mr. Hendricks, in a speech delivered -by him to the people at Indianapolis after the election:— - - The watchword of the party in this contest, - as in the contest of eight years ago, has been - reform—executive, administrative, and revenue - reform; an honest construction of the laws, and - an honest administration of them. The revenue - now collected exceeds the wants of an economical - administration by $85,000,000. Because of this the - Democrats say: “Let there be revenue reform; let - that reform consist in part in the reduction of - taxation.” Is it not patent to every man that there - ought to be a reform here? The Democratic party - this year came before the country with a clear - and straightforward statement of the reform they - intended to accomplish. In the national platform they - declared that reform they would have. It was, first, - that the taxation shall not exceed the wants of the - Government economically administered; second, that - taxation shall be for public purposes alone, and not - for private gain or advantage; third, that in the - adjustment care shall be taken to neither hurt labor - nor harm capital; and fourth, that taxation shall - be heaviest on articles of luxury and lightest on - articles of necessity. - -For now a quarter of a century the “Party of Protection and Monopoly” -has persistently transgressed the limits set to the Federal authority -by the Constitution, and used the earnings of labor and of capital, -in the form of excessive taxes, to fertilise and fatten private -enterprises. - -This must stop. And when this stops, the manufacturers of England and -of Europe may make up their minds to meet the competing exports of the -United States in all those markets of the world from which American -exports have been excluded by American legislation ever since the -Whig-Republicans of 1861 laid their grasp upon our fiscal policy. It -cannot stop too soon. The official returns of the exports of the United -States show that during the fiscal year which ended on the 30th of June -1884, the exports of domestic merchandise from the United States to -all parts of the world fell off in value $79,258,780, as compared with -the exports for the year ending the 30th of June, 1883. Our exports of -machinery fell off nearly a million dollars; of general manufactures of -iron and steel more than a million and a quarter of dollars. There was -a good deal of gunpowder burned in the year 1883-4, but the value of -our exports of it fell off a quarter of a million of dollars. The value -of our exports of flax and hemp fell from $547,111 in 1882-3 to $67,725 -in 1883-4; our exports of agricultural implements declined during the -last year more than a million of dollars in value; our exports of -cotton goods, colored and uncolored, more than twelve hundred thousand -dollars. Clearly Protection does not develop the manufactures of the -United States. It “protects” the manufacturers (which is quite a -different thing) against and at the expense of the consumers of the -United States, and gives point to the Duke of Somerset’s assertion that -“in no country has the power of capital been more invidiously exerted” -than in the United States. If our foreign manufacturing friends had any -money to spend on American politics, they would have done well to throw -it into one pool with the contributions of Mr. Blaine’s two hundred -millionaires! - -Alexander Hamilton, the Federalist Secretary of the Treasury under -Washington, was the first apostle of Protection in America, but -in approaching the subject he “walked delicately,” like Agag. The -Americans of 1789 established absolute free trade between all the -sovereign States of the new Republic; nay more, during the negotiations -for peace at Versailles in 1783, the American Commissioners offered -Great Britain absolute free trade between the new States “and all -parts of the British dominions, saving only the rights of the British -chartered companies.” David Hartley, the philosophic writer on “Man,” -one of the British Commissioners, had wisdom enough to see the immense -importance of this offer, and urged the British Government to close -with it. Lord Shelburne, I believe, agreed with him. But the king -peremptorily refused to entertain a proposition which, had it been -accepted, must have changed the whole subsequent course of the history -of the two countries. - -Down to 1809 no import duties were levied in the United States except -for purposes of revenue only. High rates of duty were levied in 1816 -after the war of 1812, not for “protection,” but in order to meet the -exigencies of a most dangerous financial situation. In 1824, Henry -Clay, backed by New England and the middle States, carried through a -tariff to “protect American industry.” This was followed up by the -tariff of 1828, known as the “Bill of Abominations.” But the Democratic -sense of the country clearly saw that as the power to levy protective -taxes must be derived from the revenue power it is of necessity -incidental, and that as the incident cannot go beyond that to which it -is incidental, Congress cannot constitutionally levy duties avowedly -for Protection; and the Democratic party has never since departed, and -never can depart, from this doctrine in its party action. In 1833, -under President Jackson, “Protection” went down with Nullification. In -1846, under President Polk, the liberal Democratic tariff of Secretary -Walker was framed, under which our exports increased from $99,299,766 -in 1845, to $196,689,718 in 1851, and our net imports from $101,907,734 -to $194,526,639. In 1856, under Democratic rule, our net imports -were $298,261,364, in specie value, and our exports $310,586,330. -In that year the Democratic Convention declared “the time has come -for the people of the United States to declare themselves in favor -of progressive free trade throughout the world.” Under Republican -Protection, despite the development of the population, our net imports -fell from $572,080,919 in 1874, to $455,407,836 in 1876, and our -exports from $704,463,120 (mixed values, gold and inflated currency) -to $655,463,969; and in 1876 the Democratic Convention declared, “We -demand that all Custom House taxation shall be only for revenue.” Of -course trade can never be said to be free excepting where, as in the -internal commerce of the United States, no tax is levied on trade; and -therefore so long as any revenue is raised by duties it is absurd, as -Senator Sherman said in discussing the tariff question in 1867, to -talk of a “free trade tariff.” But it cannot be denied that under the -Democratic Revenue Tariff of 1846 a revenue of at least $140,000,000 -would easily now be raised, and Senator Sherman, in the speech to -which I refer, admitted that “the wit of man could not possibly frame -a tariff” which should produce that sum “without amply protecting our -domestic industry.” If this happens as an incident to raising such a -revenue, American manufacturers will do well to be thankful for it. Had -the monopolists succeeded in getting Mr. Blaine into the White House -to thwart legislative reform of tariff taxation for four years more, a -worse thing would have overtaken them. For it is unquestionable that -a spirit of resistance to protective monopolies is moving through the -country, and especially through that nursery of empire, the great -North-West, which will not much longer be denied. The Democratic -Convention at Chicago wisely took note of this when it made Mr. Vilas -of Wisconsin, one of the most eloquent and popular of North-Western -Democrats, permanent chairman of the body; and Mr. Vilas has stated -the purposes and the convictions of the North-West with plainness of -speech:— - - The tariff (he says) is a form of slavery not - less hateful because the whip is not exposed. No - free people can or will bear it. There is but one - course. The plan of protective robbery must be - utterly eradicated from every law for taxation. With - unflinching steadfastness, but moderately, without - destructive haste or violence, the firm demand of - freedom must be persistently pressed, until every - dollar levied in the name of Government goes to the - Treasury, and the vast millions now extorted for a - class are left in the pockets of the people who earn - the money. Resolute to defend the sacred rights of - property, we must be resolute to redress the flagrant - wrongs of property. - -These are strong words. But they are only the echo from the land -of the Great Lakes in 1884 of the liberal principles embodied by -Jefferson in the Declaration of Independence in 1776 and sanctioned -by the Constitution of the United States in 1789. Those principles -are the life of the Democratic party. The Democratic party can only -be opposed by opposing those principles. It can only be crushed -by crushing them; and it is their inextinguishable vitality which -guarantees the permanence of our indissoluble Union of indestructible -States.—_Nineteenth Century._ - - - - -RONSARD: ON THE CHOICE OF HIS TOMB. - - -“_Antres, et vous fontaines._” - -BY J. P. M. - - Ye caverns, and ye founts - That from these rocky mounts - Well forth, and fall below - With glassy flow; - - Ye forests, and ye waves - Whose stream these meadows laves; - Ye banks and copses gay, - Hear ye my lay. - - When Heaven and my last sun - Shall tell my race is run, - Snatched from the dwelling bright - Of common light; - - No marble chiselled be, - That boastfulness may see - A grander pomp illume - My lowly tomb. - - But may, in marble’s stead, - Some tree with shading head - Uplift its leafy screen, - For ever green. - - And from me, grant, O Earth! - An ivy plant its birth, - In close embraces bound - My body round: - - And may enwreathing vine - To deck my tomb entwine, - That all around be made - A trellised shade. - - Thither shall swains, each year, - On my feast-day draw near, - With lowing herds in view,— - A rustic crew; - - Who, hailing first the light - With Eucharistic rite, - Addressing thus the Isle,[5] - Shall sing, the while:— - - “_How splendid is thy fame, - O tomb, to own the name - Of one, who fills with verse - The Universe!_ - - _“Who never burned with fire - Of envious desire - For glorious Fate affords - To mighty lords;_ - - “_Nor ever taught the use - Of love-compelling juice; - Nor ancient magic art - Did e’er impart;_ - - “_But gave our meads to see - The Sister Graces three - Dance o’er the swarded plains - To his sweet strains._ - - “_Because he made his lyre - Such soft accords respire, - As filled us and our place - With his own grace._ - - “_May gentle manna fall, - For ever, on his pall; - And dews, exhaled in May, - At close of day._ - - “_Be turf, and murmuring wave, - The fence around his grave: - Wave, ever flowing seen— - Turf, ever green._ - - “_And we, whose hearts so well - His noble fame can tell, - As unto Pan, will bear - Honors, each year._” - - So will that choir strike up; - Pouring from many a cup - A lamb’s devoted blood, - With milky flood, - - O’er me, who then shall be - Of that High City free, - Where happy souls possess - Their blissfulness. - - Hail hurtles not, nor there - Fall snow, in that mild air; - Nor thunder-stroke o’erwhelms - Those hallowed realms: - - But evermore is seen - To reign, unfading green; - And, ever blossoming, - The lovely Spring. - - Nor there do they endure - The lusts that kings allure - Their ruined neighbors’ State - To dominate: - - Like brothers they abide; - And, though on earth they died, - Pursue the tasks they set - While living yet. - - There, there, Alcæus’ lyre - I’ll hear, of wrathful fire; - And Sappho’s chords, which fall - Sweeter than all. - - How those blest souls, whose ear - Shall strains so chanted hear, - In gladness must abound - At that sweet sound; - - When Sisyphus the shock - Forgetteth, of his rock; - And Tantalus by thirst - Is no more curst! - - The sole delicious Lyre - Fulfils the heart’s desire; - And charms, with joy intense, - The listening sense. - —_Blackwood’s Magazine._ - - - - -WÜRZBURG AND VIENNA: SCRAPS FROM A DIARY. - - -BY EMILE DE LAVELEYE. - - -II. - -I arrive at Vienna at 10 o’clock and alight at the “Münsch” hotel, -a very old-established one, and very preferable, in my opinion, to -those gigantic and sumptuous “Ring” establishments where one is a mere -number. I find awaiting me a letter from the Baron de Neumann, my -colleague of the University of Vienna, and a member of the _Institut de -Droit International_. He informs me that the Minister Taaffe will await -me at 11 o’clock, and the Minister for Foreign Affairs, M. de Kálnoky, -at 3 P. M. It is always well to make the acquaintance of -Ministers when visiting foreign countries. It is the means of obtaining -the key to doors generally closed, to consulting documents otherwise -inaccessible, and to getting out of prison if by mistake you happen to -be one day thrown therein. - -The Home Office is a sombre-looking palace, situated in the -Judenplatz, a dark and narrow street in old Vienna; the apartments -are spacious, correct but bare; the furniture severe, simple but -pure eighteenth century style. It resembles the abode of an ancient -family who must live carefully to keep out of debt. How different to -the Government Offices in Paris, where luxury is displayed everywhere -in gilt panellings, Lyons velvets, painted ceilings and magnificent -staircases—as, for instance, at the Financial and Foreign Offices. I -prefer the simplicity of the official buildings of Vienna and Berlin. -The State ought not to set an example of prodigality. The Comte Taaffe -is in evening dress, as he is going to a conference with the Emperor. -He, nevertheless, receives my letter of introduction from one of -his cousins most amiably, and also the little note I bring him from -my friend Neumann, who was his professor of public law. The present -policy of the Prime Minister, which gives satisfaction to the Tscheks -and irritates the Germans so much, is not unjustifiable. He reasons -thus:—What is the best means to ensure the comfort and contentment of -several persons living together in the same house? Is it not to leave -them perfectly free to regulate their lives just as they think well? -Force them to live all in the same way to take their meals and amuse -themselves together, and they will be certain, very shortly, to quarrel -and separate. How is it that the Italians of the Canton of Tesino never -think of uniting with Italy? Because they are perfectly satisfied -to belong to Switzerland. Remember that Austria’s motto is _Viribus -unitis_. True union would be born of general contentment. The sure way -to satisfy all is to sacrifice the rights of none. “Yes,” I said, “if -unity could be made to spring from liberty and autonomy it would be -indestructible.” - -Count Taaffe has long been in favor of federalism. Under the -Taaffe-Potoçki Ministry, in 1869, he had sketched a plan of reforms -with the object of extending the sway of provincial governments.[6] In -some articles in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, in 1868-9 I tried to show -that this was the best solution of the question. Count Taaffe is still -young; he was born in 1833, Feb. 24. He is descended from an Irish -family and is a peer of that country, with the title of Viscount Taaffe -of Correw and Baron of Ballymote; but his ancestors left their home and -lost their Irish estates on account of their attachment to the Stuarts. -They took service, then, under the Dukes of Lorraine, and one of them -distinguished himself at the siege of Vienna in 1683. Count Edward, -the present Minister, was born at Prague. His father was President of -the Supreme Court of Justice. He himself commenced his career in the -Hungarian Administration under the Baron Bach, who, seeing his great -aptitudes and his perseverance, procured him rapid advancement. Taaffe -became successively Vice-Governor of Bohemia, Governor of Salzburg, -and finally Governor of Upper Austria. Called to the Ministry of the -Interior in 1867, he signed the famous “Ausgleich” of December 21, -which forms the basis of the present Dual Empire. After the fall of the -Ministry, he was appointed Governor of the Tyrol, and held that post to -general satisfaction for a space of seven years. On his return to power -he again took up the portfolio of the Interior, and was also appointed -President of the Council. He continued to pursue his federalist policy, -but with more success than in 1869. The concessions he makes to the -Tscheks are a subject of both grief and wonder in Vienna. It is said -that he does it to secure their votes for the revision of the law of -primary education in favor of reactionary clericalism. Those who are -of this opinion must forget that he has clearly shown his leaning to -federalism for more than sixteen years. - -What is more astonishing is the contradiction between Austria’s home -and foreign policy. At home the Slav movement is encouraged. All is -conceded to it, with the exception of the re-establishment of the -realm of St. Wenceslas, the road to which is, however, being prepared. -Abroad, on the contrary, and especially beyond the Danube, this -movement is opposed and suppressed as much as possible, even at the -risk of dangerously increasing Russia’s influence and popularity. This -contradiction may be explained after this wise. The “Common” Ministry -of the Empire is entirely independent of the Ministry of Cis-Leithania. -This “Common” Ministry, presided over by the Chancellor, is composed -of three Ministers—viz., those of Foreign Affairs, Finances, and War; -it alone settles foreign policy, and the Hungarian element is dominant -here. Count Taaffe’s principal residence is at Ellisham in Bohemia. -“Bailli” of the Order of Malta, he possesses the Golden Fleece. He is, -in fact, in every respect, an important personage. In 1860 he married -the Countess Irma de Czaky of Keresztszegk, by whom he has had a son -and five daughters. He has, thus, one foot in Bohemia and the other in -Hungary. All unanimously admit his extraordinary aptitudes, his -indefatigable energy, and his clever administration; but in Vienna they -complain that he is too aristocratic, and has too great a weakness for -the clergy. Probably a statue as high as the Hradsin Cathedral will -be raised in his honor at Prague, if he persuades the Emperor to be -crowned there. - -At three o’clock I proceeded to see Count Kálnoky at the Foreign Office -in the Ballplatz. It is very well situated, near to the Imperial -residence, in a wide street, and in sight of the Ring. Large reception -rooms, solemn-looking and cold; gilded chairs and white and gold -panellings, red curtains, polished floorings, and no carpets. On the -walls, portraits of the Imperial family. While waiting to be announced, -I think of Metternich. It was here he resided. In 1812 Austria decided -the fall of Napoleon. Now, again, she holds in her hands the destinies -of Europe; for the balance changes as she moves towards the north, -the east, or the west; and I am about to see the Minister who directs -her foreign policy. I expected to find myself in the presence of an -imposing-looking person, with white hair, and very stiff; so I was -agreeably surprised on being most affably received by a man of about -forty, dressed in a brown morning suit, with a blue cravat. An open -and very pleasing expression, and eyes brimming over with wit. All -the Kálnoky family have this particularity, it appears. He possesses -the quiet, refined, yet simple and modest distinction of manner of an -English nobleman. Like many Austrians of the upper class, he speaks -French like a Parisian. I think this is due to their speaking six or -seven languages equally well, so that the particular accent of each -becomes neutralized. The English and the Germans, even when they know -French thoroughly, have still a foreign accent when speaking it; not -so the Austrians. Count Kálnoky asks what are my plans for my journey. -When he hears that I intend studying the question of the Eastern -railways, he says: - -“That is our great preoccupation at the present moment. In the West -they pretend that we are anxious for conquest. This is absurd. It -would be very difficult for us to make any which would satisfy the two -parties in the Empire, and it is in fact greatly to our interest that -peace should be maintained. But we are dreaming of different sorts of -conquests, which, as an economist, you can but approve. I speak of -conquests we are desirous of making for our industries, trade, and -civilization. For this to be possible, we want railways in Servia, -Bulgaria, Bosnia, and Macedonia; and, above all, a connection with the -Ottoman lines. Engineers and diplomatists are already at work, and -will soon succeed, I hope. I do not think any one will complain or -throw blame on us when a Pullman car takes him comfortably from Paris -to Constantinople in three days. We are working for the benefit of the -Western world.” - -It has been said that speech was given to diplomatists to conceal -their thoughts. I believe, though, that when Austrian statesmen deny -any ideas of conquest and annexation in the East, they are expressing -the true intentions of the Imperial Government. The late Chancellor de -Haymerlé expressed similar opinions when I saw him in Rome in 1879, and -in a letter which I received from him shortly before his death. Baron -Haymerlé was better acquainted with the East and the Balkan Peninsula -than any one. He had lived there many years, first as dragoman of the -Austrian Embassy, and afterwards as a Government envoy, and he was a -perfect master of all the different languages of the East. - -The present Chancellor, Count Kálnoky, of Körospatak, is of Hungarian -origin, as his name indicates; but he was born at Littowitz, in -Moravia, December 29, 1832. Most of his landed estates are in that -province, amongst others Prödlitz, Ottaslawitz and Szabatta. He has -several brothers, and a very lovely sister who has been twice married, -first to Count Jean Waldstein, the widower of a Zichy, who was already -62 years of age, and, secondly, to the Duke of Sabran. Chancellor -Kálnoky’s career has been very extraordinary. He left the army in 1879, -with the grade of Colonel, and took up diplomacy. He obtained a post -at Copenhagen, where he appeared destined to play a very insignificant -part in political affairs. Shortly after, however, he was appointed to -St. Petersburg, the most important of all diplomatic posts, and, on -the death of Haymerlé, he was called to Vienna as Foreign Minister, -and thus in three years he advanced from the position of a cavalry -officer, brilliant and elegant it is true, but with no political -influence, to be the arbiter of the destinies of the Austrian Empire, -and consequently of those of Europe. How may this marvellously rapid -advancement, reminding one of the tales of the Grand Viziers in the -“Arabian Nights,” be accounted for? It is generally considered to -be due to Andrassy’s friendship. But the real truth is very little -known. Count Kálnoky is even cleverer as a writer than as speaker. -His despatches from foreign Courts were really finished models. The -Emperor, a most indefatigable and conscientious worker, reads all the -despatches from the Ambassadors, and was much struck with those from -St. Petersburg, noting Kálnoky as destined to fill high functions -in the State. At St. Petersburg he charmed every one by his wit and -amiability, and in spite of the distrust felt for his country became -_persona grata_ at the Court there. When he became Chancellor, the -Emperor gave him the rank of Major-General. - -It was thought in the beginning that his friendship for Russia might -lead him to come to terms with that Power, and perhaps also with -France, and to break off the alliance with Germany; but Kálnoky does -not forget that he is Hungarian and the friend of Andrassy, and that -the pivot of Hungarian policy, since 1866, has been a close alliance -with Berlin. In the summer of 1883 the German papers more than once -expressed vague doubts as to Austria’s fidelity, and public opinion at -Vienna, and more especially as Pesth, was rather astir on the subject. -Kálnoky’s visit to Gastein, where the Emperor Wilhelm showed him -every mark of affection, and his interview with M. de Bismarck, where -everything was satisfactorily explained, completely silenced these -rumors. At the present, the young Minister’s position is exceedingly -secure. He enjoys the Emperor’s full confidence, and, apparently, that -of the nation also, for, in the last session of the Trans-and -Cis-Leithanian Delegations he was acclaimed by all parties, even by -the Tscheks who are just now dominant in Cis-Leithania. Count Kálnoky -is hitherto unmarried, which fact, it is said, renders Vienna mothers -despairing and husbands uneasy. - -I pass my evenings at the Salm-Lichtensteins’. I had already the -pleasure of making the acquaintance of the Altgräfin in Florence, -and I am very glad to have an opportunity of meeting her husband, a -member of Parliament very deeply interested in the Tscheko-German -question. He belongs to the Austrian Liberal party, and severely -blames Taaffe’s policy, and the alliance that the Feudal party, -and especially members of his own and of his wife’s families, have -concluded with the ultra-Tscheks. “Their aim is,” he says, “to obtain -the same situation for Bohemia as for Hungary. The Emperor would go to -Prague to receive the crown of St. Wenceslas. An autonomous government -would be re-established in Bohemia under the direction of a Diet, -as in Hungary. The Empire would become triune instead of dual. Save -for questions common to all, the three States would be independent -of each other, united only in the person of the Sovereign. Such an -arrangement answered admirably in the Middle Ages, when it was usual; -but at the present day, when we are surrounded on all sides by great -united Powers, as France, Russia, Prussia and Italy, it is senseless -to advocate it. I admit of federation for small neutral States like -Switzerland, or for a large country embracing an entire Continent, -like the United States; but I consider that for Austria, situated, as -she is, in the heart of Europe, exposed on all sides to complications -and to the greed and envyings of her many neighbors, it would be -absolute perdition. My good friends of the Feudal party, supported by -the clergy, hope that when autonomy is established in Bohemia, and the -country is completely withdrawn from the influence of the Liberals of -the Central Parliament, they themselves will be the masters there, and -the former order of things will be reset on foot. I think they make a -very great mistake. I believe that when the Tscheks have attained the -end they have in view, they will turn against their present allies. -They are at heart all democrats, varying in shade from pale pink to -bright scarlet; but all will band together against the aristocracy and -the clergy, and will make common cause with the German population of -our towns, who are almost all Liberals. The country inhabitants would -also in a great measure join them, and thus the aristocracy and the -clergy would be inevitably vanquished. If necessary the ultra-Tscheks -would call up the memories of John Huss and of Ziska, to ensure the -triumph of their party. - -“Strange to say,” he continues, “the majority of the old families -heading the national movement in Bohemia are of German origin, and -do not even speak the language they wish to be made official. The -Hapsburg dynasty, our capital, our civilization, the initiative and -persistent perseverance to which Austria owes its creation—are not -all these Germanic? In Hungary, German, the language of our Emperor, -is forbidden; it is excluded also in Gallicia, in Croatia, and will -soon be so also in Carinthia, in Transylvania, and in Bohemia. The -present policy is perilous in every respect. It is deeply wounding to -the German element, which is nothing less than the enlightened classes, -commerce, money—the power, in fact, of modern times. If autonomy -is established in Bohemia, it will deliver over the clergy and the -aristocracy to the Tschek democrats and Hussites.” - -“All that you say,” I answer, “is perfectly clear. I can offer but -one objection, which is: that from time to time in the affairs of -humanity certain irresistible currents are to be met with. They are so -irresistible that nothing subdues them, and any impediment in their way -merely serves to increase their force. The nationality movement is one -of these. See what a prodigious reawakening! One might almost compare -it to the resurrection of the dead. Idioms buried hitherto in darkness -spring forth into light and glory. What was the German language in the -eighteenth century, when Frederick boasted that he ignored it, and -prided himself on writing French as perfectly as Voltaire? True, it was -Luther’s language; yet it was not spoken by the upper and educated -classes. Forty years ago, what was the Hungarian tongue? The despised -dialect of the pastors of the Puzta. German was the only language -spoken in good society and in Government offices, and, at the Diet, -Latin. At the present day the Magyar dialect is the language of the -press, of the parliament, of the theatre, of science, of academies, -of the university, of poetry, and of fiction; henceforth the -recognized and exclusive official language, it is imposed even upon -the inhabitants of Croatia or Transylvania, who have no wish for it. -Tschek is gradually securing for itself the same place in Bohemia as -Magyar had attained in Hungary. A similar phenomenon is taking place -in Croatia, the dialect there, formerly merely a popular _patois_, now -possesses a university at Agram, poets and philologists, a national -press, and a theatre. The Servian tongue, which is merely Croatian -written in Cyrillic characters, has become the official, literary, -parliamentary, and scientific language of Servia. It is in precisely -the same position as its elder brothers, French and German, in their -respective countries. It is the same for the Bulgarian idiom in -Bulgaria and Roumelia, for the Romanian in Romania, for Polish in -Galicia, for Finn in Finland, and soon also in Flanders, where, as -elsewhere, the literary reawakening precedes political claims. With a -constitutional government, the nationality party is sure to triumph, -because there is a constant struggle between the political opponents -as to which shall make the most concessions in order to secure votes -for themselves. This has been also the case in Ireland. Tell me, do -you think it possible that any Government would be able to suppress so -deeply grounded, so universal a movement, whose root is in the very -heart of long-enslaved races, and which must fatally develop as what -is called modern civilization progresses? What is to be done, then, to -quell this irresistible pressing forward of races all claiming their -place in the sunshine? Centralize and compress them, as Schmerlíng and -Bach tried to do? It is too late for that now. The only thing is to -make compromises with these divers nationalities, as Count Taaffe is -trying to do, being careful, at the same time, to protect the rights -of the minority. - -“But,” answers the Altgraf, “in Bohemia we Germans are in a minority, -the Tscheks could crush us mercilessly·” - -The following day I called on M. de V., an influential Conservative -member of Parliament. He appears to me even more distressed than -Count Salm. - -“An Austrian of the old school, a sincere black and yellow, I am, -and even, says M. de V., what you call in your extraordinary Liberal -jargon, a Reactionist. My attachment to the Imperial family is -absolute, as being the common centre of all parties in the State. -I am attached to Count Taaffe, because he is the representative of -Conservative principles; but I deplore his federalistic policy, which, -if pursued, will certainly lead to the disintegration of the Empire. -My audacity even goes so far as to declare that Metternich was a -clever man. Our good friends, the Italians, reproached him with having -said that Italy is a mere geographical expression. But of our empire, -which he made so powerful, and, on the whole, so happy, not even that -will be left, if this system of chopping it into pieces be followed -much longer. It will become a kaleidoscope instead of a State, a mere -collection of dissolving views. Do you recollect Dante’s lines? - - ‘Quivi sospiri, pianti ed alti guai - Risonavan per l’aer senza stelle. - Diverse lingue, orribile favelle, - Parole di dolore, accenti d’ira, - Voci alte e fioche, e suon di man con elle.’ - -“This is the state of things that is being prepared for us. You would -hardly, perhaps, believe that this mania is now so violently raging -that the Germans in Bohemia, dreading the future power of the Tscheks, -have requested autonomy for that portion of the country where they are -in a majority. On the other hand the Tscheks would never suffer the -division of their realm of St. Wenceslas, so this is another cause of -quarrel. This struggle of races is but a return to barbarous ages. You -are a Belgian and I an Austrian; could we not therefore agree to manage -a business or direct an institution together?” “Of course,” I -reply. “When a certain degree of culture is attained, the important -point is conformity of feeling rather than a common language, but -at the outset, language is the means of arriving at intellectual -culture. The motto of one of our Flemish societies affirms this -most energetically: _De taal is het volk_ (‘Language is everything -for a people’). In my opinion, reason and virtue are the important -points, but without language and letters there can be no progress in -civilization.” - -I take note of a curious little incident, which shows how exceedingly -bitter this animosity of races has become. The Tscheks of Vienna, who -number about 30,000 requested a grant from the town council to assist -them to found a school, where the instruction would be given in their -language. The Rector of the University of that city spoke in favor -of this request at the meeting of the council. The students of the -Tschek University of Prague, apprised of this, forwarded him a vote -of thanks; but in what language? Not in Tschek, the Rector would not -have understood a word; nor in German the language of the oppressors; -in French, as being a foreign idiom and neutral everywhere. The -vote—certainly very justifiable—of the Rector in favor of a Tschek -school in Vienna, was so highly disapproved of by his colleagues that -he was forced to resign his post. - -I go next to see Baron von Neumann, one of the pillars of our Institute -of International Law. Besides his vast legal knowledge he possesses -the precious faculty of speaking all European languages with equal -facility, and has also at his disposal a treasure of quotations -from the most varied literature. In the different towns in which -the Institute has met, he has replied to the authorities appointed -to receive us in their own language, and generally as fluently as a -native. Baron Neumann takes me to the University of which he is one -of the chief ornaments. It is situated quite near the Cathedral, -and is a very ancient building, which will shortly be abandoned for -the sumptuous edifice in course of construction on the Ring. I am -introduced to Professor Lorenz von Stein, author of the best work that -has ever been written on Socialism, “Der Socialismus in Frankreich,” -and also several works on public law and political economy, which are -very highly considered in Germany. I am also very pleased to make the -acquaintance of my youthful colleague M. Schleinitz, who has just -published an important work on the development of landed property. -Baron Neumann transmits me a letter from Baron Kállay, the Financial -Minister, appointing an interview with me before I leave; but I see -first M. de Serres, the director of the Austrian railways, who will be -able to give me some details as to the connection between the Hungarian -and Servian and the Ottoman lines: a question of the very first -importance for the future of the East, and which I have promised myself -to study. - -The Austrian Railway Companies’ offices are in a palace on the Place -Schwarzenberg, the finest part of the Ring. Their interior arrangements -are quite in keeping with the outside appearance. Immense white marble -staircases, spacious and comfortable offices, and the furniture in -the reception-rooms all velvet and gold. What a contrast between this -modern luxury and the simplicity of the Ministerial offices! It is -the symbol of a serious economic revolution. Industry takes priority -of politics. M. de Serres spreads out a map of the railway system on -the table. “See,” he says, “this is the direct line from Pesth to -Belgrade; it crosses the Danube at Peterwardein and the Save at Semlin; -it was necessary therefore to construct two immense bridges, the -piles of which have been constructed by the Fives-Lille Company. The -Belgrade-Nisch section will be very soon inaugurated. At Nisch there -will be a bifurcation of two lines, one continues to Sofia and the -other, branching off, joins the Salonica-Nitrovitza branch at Uskub or -at Varosch. The line is to run along the Upper Morava by Lescovatz and -Vraina. The latter town can then be easily connected with Varosch on -the Salonica line, the distance between these two places being quite -trifling. This branch line, which will be quickly terminated, is of -capital importance. It will be the nearest route to Athens, and even to -Egypt and the extreme East; and will ultimately, in all probability, -beat not only Marseilles but Brindisi. The other section of the line, -from Nisch to Sofia and Constantinople, presents great difficulties. -In the first place, the Pass through which the Nischava flows before -reaching Pirot is so wild, narrow, and savage, as to challenge the -skill of our engineers. Then, after leaving Pirot, the line must rise -over some of the last heights of the Balkans to reach the plain of -Sofia; the rocks here, too, are very bad. Beyond, on the high plateau, -there will be no difficulty, and a line was half completed by the -Turks ten years ago, between Sofia and Sarambay (the terminus of their -system); fifteen or sixteen months would suffice to finish it. To be -brief, this year we shall be able to go by rail all through Servia -as far as Nisch. A year later, if no time be lost, we shall reach -Salonica, and, two years afterwards, Constantinople.” - -I thanked M. de Serres for all these interesting details. “The -completion of these lines,” I said, “will be an event of capital -interest for the Eastern world. It will be the signal for an economic -transformation far otherwise important than political combinations, and -will hasten the accomplishment of an inevitable result—the development -and the supremacy of the dominant races. Your Austrian railways and -Hungary will be the first to benefit, but very soon the whole of Europe -will share the advantages which will accrue from the civilization of -the Balkan peninsula.” - -I call after this on Baron Kállay. I am very pleased to have an -opportunity of seeing him, for I am told on all sides that he is -one of the most distinguished statesmen of the empire. He is a pure -Magyar, descended from one of Arpad’s companions, who came to Hungary -towards the close of the ninth century. They must have been a careful -and thrifty family, for they have been successful in retaining their -fortune, an excellent precedent for a Financial Minister! When quite -young, Kállay displayed an extraordinary taste for learning, and he was -anxious to know everything; he worked very hard at the Slav and Eastern -languages, and translated Stuart Mill’s “Liberty” into Magyar, and for -his literary labor he obtained the honor of being nominated a member of -the Hungarian Academy. - -Having failed to be elected deputy in 1866, he was appointed -Consul-General at Belgrade, which post he held for eight years. This -period was not lost to science, for he spent it in collecting matter -for a history of Servia. In 1874 he was elected deputy in the Hungarian -Diet and took his place on the Conservative benches, now the Moderate -Left. He started a newspaper, the _Kelet Nepe_ (The People of the -East), in which he depicted the part Hungary ought to play in Eastern -Europe. - -It will be remembered that when the Turko-Prussian war broke out, -followed by the occupation of Bosnia in 1876, the Magyars were most -vehement in their manifestations of sympathy with the Turks, and -the opposition was most violent in attacking the occupation. The -Hungarians were so bitterly hostile to this movement, because they -thought it would be productive of an increase in the number of the Slav -inhabitants in the Empire. Even the Government party was so convinced -of the unpopularity of Andrassy’s policy that they durst not openly -support it. Just at this time, Kállay took upon himself to defend it -in the House. He told his party that it was senseless to favor the -Turkish cause. He proved clearly that the occupation of Bosnia was a -necessity, even from a Hungarian point of view; because this State -forms a corner separating Servia from Montenegro, and thus being in the -hands of Austria-Hungary, prevents the formation of an important Slave -State which might exercise an irresistible attraction on the Croatians, -who are of the same race and speak the same language. He explained -his favorite projects, and spoke of the commercial and civilizing -mission of Hungary in the East. This attitude of a man who knew the -Balkan peninsula by heart and had deeply studied all the questions -referring to it, was most irritating to many members of his party, who -continued for some little time Turcophile; but the speech produced a -profound impression on the nation in general, and public opinion was -considerably modified. Baron Kállay was designated by Count Andrassy as -the Austrian representative in the Commission on Roumelian affairs, and, -on his return to Vienna, he was appointed chief of a section in the -Foreign Office. He published his history of Servia in Hungarian; it has -since been translated into German and Servian, and, even at Belgrade, -it was admitted to be the best that exists. He also published, about -this time, an important pamphlet in German and Hungarian, on the -aspirations of Russia in the East during the past three centuries. -Under the Chancellor Haymerlé he became Secretary of State, and his -authority increased rapidly. Count Szlavy, formerly Hungarian Minister, -a very capable man, but with little acquaintance with the countries -beyond the Danube, was then Financial Minister; and, as such, was the -sole administrator of Bosnia. The occupation was a total failure. It -entailed immense expense, the taxes were not paid into the exchequer, -it was said that the money was detained by the Government officials -as during the reign of the Turks, and both the Trans-Leithanian and -Cis-Leithanian Parliaments showed signs of discontent. Szlavy resigned -his post. The Emperor very rightly thinks an immense deal of Bosnia. It -is his hobby, his special interest. During his reign Venetian Lombardy -has been lost, and his kingdom, consequently, diminished. Bosnia is a -compensation for this, and possesses the great advantage of adjoining -Croatia, so that it could easily be absorbed into the empire; whereas, -with the Italian provinces, this was totally impossible. The Emperor -then looked around him for the man capable of setting Bosnian affairs -in order, and at once selected Kállay, who was appointed to replace -Szlavy. - -The first act of the new Minister was personally to visit the occupied -province of which he speaks all the varied dialects, and to converse -with the Catholics, Orthodox and Mahommedans there. He thus succeeded -in reassuring Turkish landholders, in encouraging the peasantry to -patience, in reforming abuses and turning the thieves out of the -temple. Expenses became at once reduced and the deficit diminished, but -the undertaking might well be compared to the cleansing of the Augean -stables. Baron Kállay employed great tact and consideration, coupled -with relentless firmness. To be able to set a clock in thorough order -it is necessary to be perfectly acquainted with its mechanism. Last -year he was warned that a tiny cloud was appearing in Montenegro. A -fresh insurrection was dreaded. He started at once to ascertain the -exact position of affairs for himself, and he took his wife with -him to give his visit a non-official character. Lady Kállay is as -intelligent as she is beautiful, and as courageous as intelligent; -this latter is indeed a family quality: Countess Bethlen, she is -descended from the hero of Transylvania, Bethlen Gabor. Their journey -through Bosnia would form the subject of a poem. While on his way from -ovation to ovation, he succeeded in stamping out the lighted wick -which was about to set fire to the powder. Since then, it appears, -matters there have continued to improve; at all events, the deficit -has disappeared, the Emperor is delighted, and every one tells me -that if Austria succeed in retaining Bosnia she will certainly owe -it to Kállay, and that a most important _rôle_ is assuredly reserved -for him in the future administration of the empire. He believes in a -great destiny for Hungary, but he is by no means an ultra-Magyar. He -is prudent, thoughtful, and is well aware of the quagmires by the way. -His Eastern experience is of great service to him. I call on him at his -offices, in a little narrow street and on the second floor. The wooden -staircase is dark and narrow. I cannot help comparing it in my mind to -the magnificent palace of the Railway Company, and I must confess my -preference for this. I am astonished to find him so young; he is but -forty-three years old. The old empire used to be governed by old men, -but this is no longer the case. Youth has now the upper hand, and is -responsible, doubtless, for the present firm and decisive policy of -Austria-Hungary. The Hungarians hold the reins, and their blood has -preserved the ardor and decision of youthful people. It seemed to me -that I breathed in Austria an air of revival. - -Baron Kállay spoke to me first of the Zadrugas, the family communities -which existed everywhere in India, as has so well been shown by Sir -Henry Maine. “Since you published your book on Primitive Property” -(which was, he says, at the time perfectly accurate), “many changes -have taken place—the patriarchal family living on its collective and -unalienable domain is rapidly disappearing. I regret this quite as much -as you can do, but what can be done?” - -Speaking of Bosnia, “We are blamed,” he says, “for not having yet -settled the agrarian question there, but Ireland is sufficient proof -of the difficulties to be met with in solving such problems. In Bosnia -these are further complicated by the conflict between the Mussulman -and our Western laws. One must be on the spot and study these vexed -questions there, fully to realize the hindrances to be met with at -every step. For instance, the Turkish law constitutes the State the -owner of all forests, and I am especially desirous of retaining rights -on these for the purpose of preserving them; on the other hand, in -accordance with a Slav custom, the villagers claim certain rights on -the forests. If they merely cut the wood they needed for household -purposes, only slight harm would be done; but they ruthlessly cut -down trees, and then turn in their goats to eat and destroy the young -shoots, so that there is never any chance of the old trees being -replaced. These wretched animals are the plague of the country. -Wherever they manage to penetrate, nothing is to be found but brushwood. - -“As the preservation of these woods is of the first necessity in so -mountainous a region we intend to pass a law to this end, but the -difficulty will be to enforce it. It would almost necessitate an army -of keepers and constant struggles in every direction. What is really -lacking in this fine country so favored by Nature is a _gentry_ who -would set an example of agricultural progress, as in Hungary. I will -give you an example in proof of this. As a boy I remember that a very -heavy old-fashioned plough was used on our land. In 1848, compulsory -labor was abolished, wages increased, and we had to cultivate -ourselves. We at once sent for the most perfected American iron -ploughs, and at the present day these alone are employed even by the -peasants. Austria has a great mission to fulfil in Bosnia, which will -in all probability benefit general Europe even more than ourselves. She -must, by civilizing the country, justify her occupation of it.” - -“For myself,” I replied, “I have always maintained, in opposition to -my friends the English Liberals, that the annexation of Bosnia and -Herzegovina to Dalmatia was a necessity, and I fully explained this at -a period when the question was not at all under discussion,[7] but the -essential point of all is the making of a railway and roads to connect -the interior with the ports on the coast. The Serayevo-Mortar line is -absolutely a necessity.” - -“I am quite of your opinion,” answers Baron Kállay, “_ma i danari_, all -cannot be done in a day. We have but just completed the Brod-Serayevo -line, which takes passengers in a day from Vienna to the centre of -Bosnia. It is one of the first boons conferred by the occupation, and -its consequences will be almost measureless.” - -I refer to a speech he has recently pronounced at the Academy of Pesth. -In it he develops his favorite subject, the great mission Hungary is -destined to fulfil in the future; being connected with the East through -the Magyars and with the West through her ideas and institutions, she -must be a link between the Eastern and Western worlds. This theory -provoked a complete overflow of attacks against Magyar pride from all -the German and Slav papers. “These Hungarians,” they said, “imagine -themselves to be the centre of the universe and their Hungaria, the -entire world, _Ungarischer Globus_. Let them return to their steppes, -these Asiatics, these Tartars, these first cousins of the Turks.” In -the midst of all this vehemence, I am reminded of a little quotation -from a book of Count Zays, which most accurately paints the ardent -patriotism of the Hungarians at once, their honor and strength, but -which develops a spirit of domination and makes them detested by other -races. The quotation is as follows: “The Magyar loves his country and -his nationality better than humanity, better than liberty, better than -himself, better even than God and his eternal salvation.” Kállay’s high -intelligence prevents his falling into this exaggerated Chauvinism. -“No one understood me,” he says, “and no one chose to understand. I -was not talking politics. I had no desire to do so in our Academy at -a scientific and literary meeting. I simply announced an undeniable -fact. Situated at the point of junction of a series of different races -and for the very reason that we speak a non-Indo-Germanic idiom—call -it even Asiatic, if you will—we are compelled to be acquainted with -all the languages of Western Europe. Our institutions, our educational -systems, belong to the Western world. At the same time, by some -mysterious connection with our blood, Eastern dialects are very easily -accessible and comprehensible to us. I have over and over again -remarked that I can grasp much more clearly the meaning of an Eastern -manuscript or document by translating it into Magyar, than if I read a -German or English translation of it.” - -The “Ring,” and how this splendid boulevard has been made, is certainly -a question worthy of an economist’s inquiries. What changes since 1846! -At that period, from the heights of the old ramparts that had sustained -the famous siege of 1683, one could obtain a panorama of the entire -city, with its extensive faubourgs separated from the centre by a -dusty esplanade where the Hungarian regiments, with their tight blue -trousers, drilled every evening. The Volksgarten, where Strauss played -his waltzes, and the Grecian temple with Canova’s statue, have been -left intact; but a boulevard twice as wide as those in Paris runs along -the entire length; ample space has been reserved for the erection -of public monuments and the remainder of the land sold at enormous -prices. The State and the town have constructed public edifices vying -with each other in magnificence; two splendid theatres, a town hall, -which will certainly cost fifty million francs; a palace for the -university, two museums, and a House of Parliament for the Reichsrath. -All around the Ring in addition to the buildings just mentioned, are -Archdukes’ palaces, immense hotels, and private residences, which, -from their grand proportions and the richness of their decorations, -are monuments themselves. I know of nothing comparable to the Ring in -any other capital. Where did Austria find the necessary funds for all -these constructions? The State and the town made a most successful -speculation: the price paid to them for the ground on the esplanade -almost covered all their expenses, but the purchasers of that ground -and the constructions placed upon it—who paid for all that? The -hundreds of millions of francs represented by this land and by the -public buildings and private dwellings on it, all that must spring from -the savings of the country. This affords a clear proof that in spite of -the unfortunate wars, the loss of Venetian Lombardy and the Krach of -1873, in spite also of home difficulties and the persistent deficit, -continuing from year to year, Austria has become much wealthier. -The State is a beggar, but the nation has accumulated capital which -expands itself in all these splendors of the Ring. As on the banks of -the Rhine, all this is due to machinery. As man can with his new and -powerful tools procure nourishment and clothing for a less sum, he can -devote a larger portion of his revenue and labor to his board, his -pleasures, to art and various institutions. - -All that I succeeded in ascertaining in Vienna with respect to the -present situation of Bosnia served to confirm the views I already -entertained as to that country. The interests of civilization, and -especially those of the Southern Slavs, command our approval of this -occupation. We arrive at this conclusion by an argument which appears -to me irrefutable. Was it, yes or no, of importance that Bosnia should -be freed from the Turkish yoke? No friend of humanity in general and of -the Slavs can answer this question otherwise than in the affirmative. -Who then is to carry out this freedom? Russia is not to be thought of. -The forming of Bosnia into an independent State would be still worse, -for it would be simply delivering up the rayas without the slightest -defence to the Mussulman Begs. The most tempting plan seemed to be to -unite it to Servia, but in that case Bosnia would have been separated -from its neighbor Dalmatia, and the Servian Government would have -been compelled to undertake the difficult task of keeping its ancient -enemies, the Mussulman Bosniacs, in check. The only other solution was -the present one. Austria-Hungary can neither Magyarize nor Germanize -Bosnia. She brings it safety, order, education and roads; or, in -other words, the elements of modern civilization. Is not this all the -Slavophils can possibly desire? Thus will be formed a new nation, -which will grow up side by side with Croatia and Dalmatia, fortifying -these two countries as it develops, and serving at the same time as a -connecting link between them.—_Contemporary Review._ - - - - -ENGLISHMEN AND FOREIGNERS. - - -There has always been in the minds of those who have amused themselves -with speculating upon the ultimate destiny of mankind a dim belief that -a good time is coming, when wars shall cease, distinctions of race fade -away, frontiers be abolished, and all nations, kindreds, and languages -be united in the great family of humanity, ruled by “the Parliament -of Man, the Federation of the World.” I should not care to be the -president of that assembly. But indeed there seems little likelihood -that the Millennium will begin yet awhile, or that we, as Englishmen, -shall have any immediate cause to regret our geographical position. As -matters stand at present, isolation has its obvious advantages, and, -judging by analogy, we should neither feel more friendly towards our -neighbors nor understand them better if we could shake hands with them -across an imaginary line, instead of bowing politely to them from the -other side of the waves which Britannia rules. - -_Comprendre c’est pardonner._ Perhaps so; but we are a very long way -from understanding one another as yet. The simple beauty of Free -Trade is not recognised; standing armies have increased; potential -armies include whole nations, and ingenious persons continue to busy -themselves in devising machines for the wiping out of the largest -possible number of their fellow-creatures in the briefest possible -space of time. In short, it may safely be prophesied that the dawn of -universal peace will be deferred until there shall be a common consent -to keep the ninth commandment, which is as much as to say that we shall -none of us live to see the Greek Kalends. - -But we are progressing towards the goal, some sanguine people affirm. -The movement of the earth, which is spinning through space at the -rate of over a thousand miles a minute, is imperceptible to the atoms -that crawl upon its surface; the movements of society are hardly to -be detected by its component parts, which vanish and are replaced -continually. What we do know is that we ourselves are bustling about -much more frequently and rapidly than our forefathers did. We have all -become more or less of rolling stones; and the moss of ignorance and -prejudice is being rubbed off us day by day. It seems natural to assume -that this must be so; but, as a matter of fact, is it so? Do Mr. Cook’s -excursionists obtain the smallest insight into the habits and character -of Continental nations? and do the more ambitious ladies and gentlemen -who would scorn to be “personally conducted” anywhere, and who hastily -survey mankind from China to Peru every year, bring back with them -any notion of what a Chinaman or a Peruvian is like beyond such -as might have been gathered from photographs purchased in Regent -Street? Steam power has enabled us to see many races of men, but it -has made it infinitely more difficult for us to know them. There is, -or there formerly was, in use among the Genevese a queer kind of -carriage, surrounded on three sides by leathern curtains, in which -the occupant sits as in a wagonette, contemplating only that portion -of the landscape which directly faces him; and it is narrated that -an Englishman once hired one of these conveyances, and, after making -the complete circuit of Lake Leman, inquired innocently where it -was. The modern English traveller labors under a somewhat similar -disadvantage. He spends his holidays abroad. He rubs elbows with the -natives in the streets; he gazes at the outside of their houses and at -their closed doors; but he has his back turned to them, as it were, -the whole time; he is among them, but he is not of them. They are not -interested in him. Nor is he ambitious of making their acquaintance. It -is not upon them that he depends for society. When his doctor orders -him to go south for the winter he has no change to dread or hope for, -except a change of scene and climate. Wherever he may go he will -be tolerably sure to find a more than sufficient assemblage of his -fellow-countrymen, an English club, a rubber of whist in the afternoon -if he wishes for it, lawn-tennis grounds innumerable, possibly even a -pack of hounds; and he will be invited to dinners and balls, at which -he may perchance from time to time meet a stray foreigner or two, just -as he might in London. - -With this state of things the generality of us are very well contented. -We no longer think, as Lord Chesterfield did, that “it is of much more -consequence to know the _mores multorum hominum_ than the _urbes_;” and -the instructions issued by that shrewd old gentleman to his son, when -the latter was completing his education in foreign parts, are simply -amazing to fathers who live in the latter part of the nineteenth -century. “I hope,” says he, “that you will employ the evenings in the -best company in Rome. Go to whatever assemblies or _spectacles_ people -of fashion go to. Endeavor to outshine those who shine there the most; -get the _garbo_, the _gentilezza_, the _leggiadria_ of the Italians.... -Of all things I beg of you not to herd with your countrymen, but to be -always either with the Romans or with the foreign ministers residing -at Rome,” and so forth. Fancy advising a young man of the present day -to “get the _garbo_ of the Italians,” and imagining that he would, or -could, do any such thing! - -Lord Chesterfield, no doubt, was able to procure admission for -his son into “the best company” at Rome and elsewhere; but in the -præ-railway era most European capitals were very hospitably disposed -towards persons of less distinction. Provided that these were decent -sort of folks, and that they were received by their ministers, -no further questions were asked, and every facility was afforded -them for acquiring the _garbo_ of the Italians and whatever other -distinctive attributes the French or Germans may have been supposed -to possess. It is probable that they did not take much advantage of -these opportunities, for the English are not naturally imitative; but -at all events they learnt something about the manners and customs -of their entertainers. Most of us have seen letters written by our -grandfathers—possibly even by our fathers—which testify, with that -old-fashioned fulness of style which cheap postage has killed, what -a much more amusing experience travel was then than it is now. The -writers had all kinds of small adventures, incidents, and impressions -to recount; they jogged leisurely along the highroads of Europe in -their heavy travelling carriages, keeping their eyes open as they went; -when they reached a famous city they did not set to work to calculate -in how few days the sights of that city could be seen and done with, -but hired for themselves a house or an _appartement_, prepared for a -long stay, and presented their letters of introduction. Of course they -were in a small minority. Half a century ago it was not everybody who -had time enough or money enough to leave home for an indefinite period. -But, as far as the promotion of universal brotherhood is concerned, -the knowledge of the few may perhaps be as useful as the superficial -familiarity of the many. - -As a means to the above end increased facility of locomotion seems to -have failed. Some time-honored superstitions have, it is true, been -swept away thereby; we no longer imagine that frogs form the staple -article of a Frenchman’s diet, while the French, on their other side, -do not now accuse us of selling our wives at Smithfield, although their -belief that we prefer raw to cooked meat appears to be ineradicable. -Yet there are very few Englishmen—so few that one might venture to -make a list of them—who can be said to be at home in French society -or to be capable of following the drift of French opinion. This last, -it must be confessed, is not an easy feat, and indeed can hardly -be accomplished by anything short of a prolonged residence in the -country. Foreigners naturally form their opinion of a nation as much -from reading as from personal observation, and probably there is no -people so ill-represented by its press as the French. Any one who -should read for a year the “Times,” the “Daily News,” the “Standard,” -and “Punch,” to say nothing of the weekly reviews, would be able, at -the end of that time, to pronounce a fairly accurate judgment upon -English politics and English habits of thought. Can it be supposed -that, after a twelvemonth’s patient study of the “Journal des Débats,” -the “République Française,” the “Figaro,” and the “Vie Parisienne,” the -inquiring stranger would be in an equally favorable position as regards -our neighbors across the water? English novels, again, may be said to -mirror English life faithfully, upon the whole, but if a man should -base his estimate of French society upon a study of the best French -novelists he would arrive at a conclusion almost grotesquely unlike the -truth. - -For the French novelist, for all his so-called realism, takes neither -his characters nor his scenes from everyday life, his contention being -that, were he to do so, he would produce a work so insufferably dull -that no one would buy it. Writing, not as we do _virginibus puerisque_, -but for readers who like the dots to be placed upon the i’s, he sets -before them a succession of pictures from life, drawn often with great -power and insight into human nature, nearly always with scrupulous -exactitude of detail, and asserts—what cannot be denied—that they are -true pictures. It is a pity that they are usually unpleasant pictures, -and that they are liable to be misinterpreted by readers who adopt -the too common course of arguing from the particular to the general. -There is no occasion to dispute the accuracy of the scenes portrayed -in such books as “Le Nabab” or “Les Rois en Exil,” or to doubt that -the author could, if he chose, point to the living or dead originals -of his chief characters and declare that he has maligned none of them; -but when we find him, year after year dwelling and insisting upon what -is most ignoble in his fellow-creatures, we are surely entitled to -accuse him of a _suppressio veri_ and a _suggestio falsi_. With the -single exception of “Tartarin de Tarascon,” which is a burlesque, I do -not remember one of M. Daudet’s books, from “Fromont Jeune et Risler -Aîné,” down to “Sapho,” his last and infinitely his worst production, -which does not leave behind it a profound impression of sadness. -“C’est la faute de la vie, qui dicte,” he said once, in answer to this -reproach, as though life had but one side, or as though the literal -truthfulness of a photograph conveyed all that there is to be seen in a -landscape. But indeed some people, as we know, have the misfortune to -be color-blind, and to them, no doubt, the outlines of the world must -seem to be filled in rather with shade than with light. One may pay -a willing homage to M. Daudet’s genius and yet suspect that life, if -he had chosen to listen, might have dictated to him different stories -from those which he has published, and one may question whether his -sons will be much the better for reading “Sapho” even “quand ils auront -vingt ans.” - -The subject of French fiction, its tendencies and its influences, -is too long a one to be more than glanced at here. The wit, the -brilliancy, the charm of style of About, Octave Feuillet, Cherbuliez, -Jules Clarétie, and others of less repute are familiar to most educated -men. Not all of them are such pessimists as M. Daudet; yet those who -know what _ordinary_ French life is will find only a faint reflection -of it in the novels of the above-named writers, unless it be here and -there in the pages of the first. It is always best to avoid making -statements which, from their very nature, are not susceptible of proof; -but, after associating pretty constantly with French people for a -matter of twenty years, I will take upon me to say that I doubt very -much whether the marriage-vow is broken more frequently in France than -elsewhere. That weary old tale of conjugal infidelity, which appears -to be as essential to the French novelist as the more legitimate love -affair and marriage at the end of the third volume are to his British -confrère, might, I believe, be told with as much or as little truth of -other countries. There is an old story of an artist who sent a sketch -of some Indian scene to one of the illustrated papers, and afterwards -complained that it had been tampered with before publication, a group -of palms having been introduced into the background, whereas those -trees were unknown in the region which he had depicted. “That is very -possible, Mr.----,” replied the editor; “but let me tell you that the -public expects palms in an Oriental landscape, and _will have them_.” -Not being a publisher, I am not in a position to affirm that the French -public expects, and will have, a breach of the seventh commandment in -its novels; but there is every reason to infer that such is the opinion -of French authors. - -Of course it may be urged that, in literature as in forms of -government, people commonly get what they deserve, and that a public -which demands the kind of nutriment alluded to must be an unhealthy -and immoral sort of public. It should, however, be borne in mind that -there is a much larger portion of the French than of the English public -which never reads novels at all. Whether the immense sale commanded by -such works as “L’Assommoir” and “Nana” is or is not a sign of national -decadence is a question which will not be too hastily answered by any -one who remembers the various phases through which literature has -passed in other lands, but none need hesitate to say that the effect -produced by them upon outside opinion of France and the French has -been eminently unfavorable. It is not with impunity that a nation can -delight, or seem to delight, in the contemplation of foulness. France, -“ce pays de gens aimables, doux, honnêtes, droits, gais, superficiels, -pleins de bon cœur,” to quote M. Renan, who knows his countrymen -well and does not always flatter them, is becoming more and more -regarded as a sink of iniquity, and those who watch the development of -her manners, as illustrated by some of her most popular novelists, are -beginning to ask themselves whether any good can come out of Nazareth. -In England more especially this feeling is gaining ground. If we are -little, or not at all, better acquainted with the French people than -we were fifty years ago, we are a good deal better acquainted with -the French language. We read all the new French books, particularly -the new French novels (sometimes we have to keep them under lock and -key, and peruse them stealthily after the other members of the family -have gone to bed), and it is hardly surprising that we should take -our neighbors at what appears to be their own valuation. Englishmen, -sober, reticent—a trifle Pharisaical, it may be—cannot pardon writers -who take pleasure in stripping poor human nature of its last shred -of dignity and exhibiting it to the world under its most revolting -aspects. These things are true, the naturalistic school of novel -writers say. What then? we may return. Most people know that hideous -forms of vice exist; but most people think it is safer and wiser not -to talk about them. As for those who do not know, for what conceivable -reason should they be told? And so the Englishman, when he takes his -walk through the streets of Paris, feels that he would just as soon -have nothing to do with the unclean persons who, as he presumes inhabit -that city. - -The truth is that there has never been any real sympathy between these -two nations, so nearly united in geographical position and by some -political ties and so widely separated in all other respects. Perhaps -our one and only point of resemblance is our common inability to -adapt ourselves to ways that are not our ways. A Frenchman, wherever he -goes, is always a Frenchman, and an Englishman is always an Englishman. -In this particular the Americans have the advantage of us. With their -keenness of observation, their restless curiosity, their desire to -pick out and appropriate whatever seems to them best in foreign lands, -the Americans have fewer prejudices and fewer antipathies than we who -live in the Old World. Their extreme sensitiveness does not often -take the form of self-consciousness; they readily pick up the tone of -the society that they frequent, and, although they are not as a rule, -first-rate linguists, they soon acquire enough knowledge of a language -to enable them to converse easily with the inhabitants of the country -in which they are sojourning. Moreover, they are less prone than we -are to save themselves trouble by accepting other people’s views, and, -whatever their opinion may be worth, are generally able at least to -give grounds for holding it. - -In the case of our kinsmen on the other side of the Atlantic we have -of late years unquestionably made a great advance towards mutual -understanding, and, it may be added, friendship. Possibly we are none -the worse friends for having disliked one another very cordially not -so long ago. There is a prevalent impression in this country that the -quarrel was one-sided, that the Americans were irritated (excusably -perhaps) by our recognition of the Confederate States as belligerents, -as well as by the general sympathy that was felt in England for the -Southern cause, and that we really never said half such unpleasant -things about them as they did about us. But if they expressed their -aversion more loudly than we did it is not so certain that ours was -any less deep; and in our present liberal and enlightened mood we can -afford to admit that most of us had but a poor opinion of our cousins, -from a social point of view, twenty years back. I happened, towards the -close of the civil war, to be in a German city much frequented both -by English and Americans, who could hardly be induced to speak to one -another. The British chaplain of the place—remembering, I suppose, -that the Americans who attended his services contributed something -towards the defrayal of the expenses connected therewith—took it into -his head one Sunday to pray for the President of the United States, -a custom which has since become universal among mixed congregations -on the Continent. In those days it was an innovation, and an English -gentleman who was present marked his disapproval of it by thumping his -stick on the floor and saying aloud, “I thought this was an English -church!” after which he picked up his hat and walked out. It is only -fair to his compatriots to add that in the very pretty quarrel which -ensued they declined to support him: but I doubt whether it was so much -with his sentiments that they were displeased as with his disregard for -religious propriety. How the affair ended I do not know. Let us hope -that bloodshed was averted, and that the irate Briton was brought to -see that there could be no great harm in paying the same compliment to -the President of the United States as we are accustomed to pay to Jews, -Turks, infidels, and heretics. Squabbles of this kind are, happily, -now rare. The “Alabama” claims were settled long ago; Americans in -large numbers visit our shores every year, and are to be met with -pretty frequently in London society, where they are kind enough to -say that they have a lovely time; some are almost domiciled among us, -and have recorded in print their intimate acquaintance with our mode -of life in London and in the country. Perhaps their criticisms were a -trifle too subtle for us just at first, but now that the subtlety has -been discovered and proclaimed we quite delight in it. We, for our -parts, think no more of crossing the Atlantic than we used to think -of crossing the Channel; we partake of the boundless hospitality that -awaits us on the other side, and do not fail to let our entertainers -know how pleased we are with them before we re-embark. We used to add -a kindly expression of surprise at finding them so agreeable, but we -don’t do this any more now. If the perennial interchange of civilities -is sometimes broken by a stage aside we pretend not to hear it, and it -may safely be asserted that we have as much real affection for one -another as commonly subsists between collaterals. That, of course, is -saying no more than that we shall probably continue to be friends until -a cause for dispute arises; but more than this cannot, surely, be said -of any two nations upon the earth’s surface, and, fortunately, there is -little prospect of a difference between England and America which may -not be peaceably settled. - -Since the war of 1870 our eyes have been turned towards Germany -with the interest and admiration which success must ever command. -Our military system has been remodelled upon the German system; we -have crowned our soldiers with a helmet somewhat resembling the -_Pickelhaube_, which is, I believe, found to be quite as inconvenient -as that celebrated head gear, and which is certainly several degrees -more unsightly. Also we have a high respect for Prince Bismarck, -considering him as the greatest statesman of the age, and drinking in -eagerly the reports of his utterances vouchsafed to us by Dr. Busch -and others. I have not, however, observed as yet any sign that we—as -represented by our Government—are inclined to display flattery in its -sincerest form by adopting the Chancellor’s decisive method of dealing -with any little difficulties that may arise. - -In point of consanguinity the people whom he has succeeded in uniting -into a nation are not a long way removed from us; in times past they -have frequently been our allies; they have, moreover, given us our -reigning dynasty. Perhaps, upon the whole we get on better with them -than with any other continental race. Many English families repair to -Germany for educational purposes, are received at the smaller courts, -visited by the high-nobly born _Herrschaft_ with whom they are brought -into contact, and thus gain some idea of German ways. It has been said -that a sailor is the best of good fellows anywhere except on board -his own ship, when he is apt to become—well, not quite so good a -fellow. The contrary rule would appear to apply to the German, who is a -kindly, pleasant, person at home, but whose demeanor when abroad leaves -something to be desired. We have all met him in Italy or Switzerland, -and we are all aware that his manners, like Mr. Pumblechook’s, “is -given to blusterous.” We have suffered from the loud, harsh voice with -which Nature has afflicted him, as well as from his deep distrust of -fresh air and his unceremonious method of making his way to the front -at railway stations. But in their own country the Germans show to -much greater advantage. They are well-disposed towards strangers; not -a few of them have the sporting pro-civilities which are a passport -to the British heart; they are easily pleased, and are, in the main, -amiable, unassuming people. It is much to their credit that their sober -heads were never turned by victories which would assuredly have sent a -neighboring nation half crazy. Of course there are Germans and Germans, -and the inhabitants of the State which holds the chief rank in the -Empire have never been renowned for prepossessing manners or for an -excess of modesty. Even they, however, have a good deal of the innocent -unsuspiciousness which is one of the charms of the Teutonic character. -Not long ago I chanced to be speaking to a Prussian gentleman about -the ill-feeling which existed at that time between his country and -Russia, and which seemed likely enough to culminate in an outbreak of -hostilities. He assured me that the ill-feeling was entirely on the -Russian side. - -“We have nothing against them,” he declared, “and we want nothing -from them; but they are angry with us, and that is easily explained. -They cannot get on without us; they are obliged to employ our people -everywhere instead of their own, and they are furious because they have -to acknowledge the superiority of the German intellect.” - -I remarked that the superiority of the German intellect was manifest; -whereupon he shrugged his shoulders quickly, and snorted in the -well-known Prussian fashion, as who should say, “Could any one be such -a fool as to doubt it?” - -I went on to observe that in philosophy, science, and music Germany led -mankind. He agreed with me, and added, “Also in the art of war.” - -“The Germans,” I proceeded, “are the best-educated people in the -world;” and he replied, “No doubt.” - -“And they are the pleasantest company.” - -“Certainly,” answered he, “that is so.” - -“And what adds so much to the attractiveness of their conversation,” I -continued, “is their delicate wit and keen perception of irony.” - -I confess that after I had made this outrageous speech I shook in my -shoes and looked down at my plate. I ought never to have said it, and -indeed I would not have said it if he had not led me on until it became -irresistible. But there was no occasion for alarm. When I raised my -eyes to my neighbor’s face I found it irradiated with smiles. He laid -his hand on my arm quite affectionately. - -“What you say is perfectly true,” he cried; “but do you know you are -the very first stranger I have ever met who has had the sense to -discover it?” - -And then he explained to me that the Germans were absurdly considered -by Frenchmen and other superficial observers to be a rather dull-witted -and heavy race. - -Now I really do not see how any one is to help liking a nation so -happily self-complacent. The Prussians are said to be arrogant and -overbearing; but I don’t think they are so, unless they are rubbed the -wrong way; and what pleasure is there in rubbing people the wrong way? -When Victor Hugo announces that France is supreme among nations, when -he invites us to worship the light that emanates from the holy city of -Paris, and hints that we might do well to worship also the proclaimer -of that light, we are half shocked and half incredulous. The bombast -seems too exaggerated to be sincere; it has the air of challenging and -expecting contradiction. We find it impossible to believe that any -sane man can really mean much of what this great poet tells us that he -means. French vanity—and Victor Hugo, whether at his highest or at his -lowest, is always essentially French—is not amusing. It is the kind of -vanity which is painful to witness, and which cannot but be degrading -to those who allow themselves to give way to it. But in the placid -North German self-approval there is a child-like element, which is not -unpleasing nor even wholly undignified. It may provoke a smile; but -the smile is a friendly one. These excellent stout professors and -bearded warriors who are so thoroughly pleased with themselves, and -who never suspect that anybody can be laughing at them, command our -sympathies—perhaps because John Bull himself is not quite a stranger -to the sensations that they experience. - -Yet, when all is said and done, John Bull remains John Bull. German -philosophy, French wit, American acuteness, the “_garbo_ of the -Italians”—these things are not for him, nor is he specially desirous -of assimilating them. He is as God made him, and has an impression that -worse types have been created. At the bottom of his heart—though he no -longer speaks it out as freely as of yore—there still lurks the old -contempt for “foreigners.” As I have already made so bold as to say, I -do not think that the hustle and bustle of the present age have brought -him any clearer comprehension of these foreigners than his forefathers -possessed, or that the advent of the universal republic has been at all -hastened by the rise of democracy and the triumph of steam. Certainly -all men are human, and all dogs are dogs; but you will not convert a -bulldog into a setter by taking him out shooting, nor a mastiff into -a spaniel by keeping them in one kennel. It is doubtless well that -those who own a large number of dogs should encourage familiarity among -them, and restrain them from delighting to bark and bite, and it might -also be a good thing to induce them, if possible, to recognise each -others respective utilities. But they never do recognise these. On the -contrary, they contemplate one another’s performances with the deepest -disdain, and if we could see into the workings of their canine minds -we should very likely discover that each is perfectly satisfied with -himself, and as convinced that his breed is superior to all others as -Victor Hugo is that Paris is the light of the world. - -Recent inventions have dealt some heavy blows at time and space, but -have not as yet done much towards abolishing national distinctions of -character. One result of them, as melancholy as it is inevitable, is -the slow vanishing of the picturesque. The period of general dead-level -has set in; old customs have fallen into abeyance and old costumes are -being laid aside. The “Ranz des Vaches” no longer echoes among the -Swiss mountains; the Spanish _sombrero_ has been discarded in favor -of a chimney-pot hat; the Hungarian nobles reserve their magnificent -frippery for rare state occasions, and the black coat, deemed so -significant a sign of the times by Alfred de Musset, is everywhere -replacing the gay clothing of a less material era. But, for all that, -mastiffs are mastiffs and spaniels spaniels. Democracy claims to be -cosmopolitan: perhaps some of us may live long enough to see what -the boast is worth. If it be permitted to ground a prophecy upon the -lessons of history, we may say that co-operation is possible only so -long as interests are identical, and that the mainspring of all human -collective action is, and will be, nothing more or less than that -selfishness which, as Lord Beaconsfield once told us, is another word -for patriotism.—_Cornhill Magazine._ - - - - -FRENCH DUELLING. - - -BY H. R. HAWEIS. - -One of the liveliest little duels we have lately heard of is that which -took place in October between the journalist M. Rochefort and Captain -Fournier. It appears that the gallant captain felt himself aggrieved by -some free expressions in the “Intransigeant,” challenged the editor, -and both belligerents went out with swords, whereupon Rochefort pinked -Fournier, Fournier slashed Rochefort, both lost a teaspoonful or so of -blood, and honor appears to have been satisfied. - -In the eyes of the average Briton there is always something absurd -about a duel. He either thinks of the duel in “The Rivals,” as it -is occasionally witnessed at Toole’s theatre, or of Mark Twain’s -incomparable “affair” with M. Gambetta; but it seldom occurs to any one -in this country to think of a duel as being honorable to either party, -or capable of really meeting the requirements of two gentlemen who may -happen to have a difference of opinion. - -The Englishman kicks his rival in Pall Mall, canes him in Piccadilly, -or pulls his nose and calls him a liar at his club. He is then had up -for assault and battery, his grievance is well aired in public, he is -consoled by the sympathy of an enlarged circle of friends, pays a small -fine, and leaves the court “without a stain upon his character.” If, on -the other hand, his rival is in the right, the damages are heavy, and -his friends say, “Pity he lost his temper and made a fool of himself,” -and there the matter ends. In either case outraged justice or wounded -honor is attended to at the moderate cost of a few sovereigns, a bloody -nose, or a smashed hat. - -We think on the whole it is highly creditable to England that this -should be so. The abolition of duelling by public opinion is a distinct -move up in the scale of civilisation. - -Perhaps we forget how very recent that “move up” is. - -When it ceased to be the fashion to wear swords in the last century, -pistols were substituted for these personal encounters. This made -duelling far less amusing, more dangerous, and proportionally less -popular. The duel in England received practically its _coup de grâce_ -with the new Articles of War of 1844, which discredited the practice -in the army by offering gentlemen facilities for public explanation, -apology, or arbitration in the presence of their commanding officer. -But previous to this “the duel of satisfaction” had assumed the most -preposterous forms. Parties agreed to draw lots for pistols and to -fight, the one with a loaded, the other with an unloaded weapon. - -This affair of honor (?) was always at short distances and -“point-blank,” and the loser was usually killed. Another plan was to go -into a dark room together and commence firing. There is a beautiful and -pathetic story told of two men, the one a “kind” man and the other a -“timid” man, who found themselves unhappily bound to fight, and chose -the dark-room duel. The kind man had to fire first, and, not wishing to -hurt his adversary, groped his way to the chimney-piece and, placing -the muzzle of his pistol straight up the chimney, pulled the trigger, -when, to his consternation, with a frightful yell down came his -adversary the “timid” man, who had selected that fatal hiding-place. - -Another grotesque form was the “medical duel,” one swallowing a pill -made of bread, the other swallowing one made of poison. When matters -had reached this point, public opinion not unnaturally took a turn -for the better, and resolved to stand by the old obsolete law against -duelling, whilst enacting new bye-laws for the army, which of course -reacted powerfully, with a sort of professional authority, upon the -practice of bellicose civilians. - -The duel was originally a mere trial of _might_, like our prize fight; -it was so used by armies and nations, as in the case of David and -Goliath, or as when Charles V. challenged Charlemagne to single combat. -But in mediæval times it got to be also used as a test of _right_, -the feeling of a judicial trial by ordeal entering into the struggle -between two persons, each claiming right on his side. - -The judicial trial by ordeal was abandoned in the reign of Elizabeth, -but the practice of private duelling has survived in spite of adverse -legislation, and is exceedingly popular in France down to the present -day. The law of civilised nations has, however, always been dead -against it. In 1599 the parliament of Paris went so far as to declare -every duellist a rebel to his majesty; nevertheless, in the first -eighteen years of Henri Quatre’s reign no fewer than 4,000 gentlemen -are said to have perished in duels, and Henri himself remarked, when -Creyin challenged Don Philip of Savoy, “If I had not been the king I -would have been your second.” Our ambassador, Lord Herbert, at the -court of Louis XIII., wrote home that he hardly ever met a French -gentleman of repute who had not either killed his man or meant to do -so! and this in spite of laws so severe that the two greatest duellists -of the age, the Count de Boutteville and the Marquis de Beuron, were -both beheaded, being taken _in flagrante delicto_. - -Louis XIV. published another severe edict in 1679, and had the courage -to enforce it. The practice was checked for a time, but it received -a new impulse after the close of the Napoleonic wars. The dulness of -Louis Philippe’s reign and the dissoluteness of Louis Napoleon’s both -fostered duelling. The present “opportunist” Republic bids fair to -outbid both. You can hardly take up a French newspaper without reading -an account of various duels. Like the suicides in Paris, and the -railway assaults in England, duels form a regular and much appreciated -item of French daily news. - -It is difficult to think of M. de Girardin’s shooting dead poor -Armand Carell—the most brilliant young journalist in France—without -impatience and disgust, or to read of M. Rochefort’s exploit the other -day without a smile. - -The shaking hands in the most cordial way with M. Rochefort, the -compliments on his swordsmanship, what time the blood flowed from an -ugly wound, inflicted by him as he was mopping his own neck, are all so -many little French points (of honor?) which we are sure his challenger, -Captain Fournier, was delighted to see noticed in the papers. No doubt -every billiard-room and café in Paris gloated over the details, and the -heroes, Rochefort and Fournier, were duly fêted and dined together as -soon as their respective wounds were sufficiently healed. - -Meanwhile John Bull reads the tale and grunts out loud, “The whole -thing is a brutal farce and the ‘principals’ are no better than a -couple of asses.” - -Now, admitting that there are some affronts which the law cannot and -does not take cognisance of, in these days such affronts are very few. -That terrible avenger, public opinion, is in this nineteenth century a -hundred-handed and a hundredfold more free, powerful, and active than -it used to be, before the printing-press, and, I may add, railways, -telegraphs, and daily newspapers. But of all cases to which duelling, -by the utmost stretch of honorable license, could be applied—a mere -press attack is perhaps the least excusable. - -Here are the French extolling the freedom of the English press by -imitating—or trying to imitate—English independence and the right -to speak and act and scribble _sans gêne_—and it turns out that an -honorable member in the Senate cannot lose his temper, or a journalist -write a smart article, without being immediately requested to fight. -“Risum teneatis, amici!” and this is the people who think themselves -fit for liberty, let alone equality and fraternity! (save the mark!) - -The old town clerk at Ephesus in attempting to compose a dispute of a -rather more serious character some eighteen hundred years ago, between -a certain Jew and a Greek tradesman, spoke some very good sense when he -appealed to both disputants thus: “If Demetrius have a matter against -any man the law is open, and there are deputies: let them implead one -another.” - -Next time M. Rochefort pokes fun at Captain Fournier in the -“Intransigeant,” we advise the captain, instead of pinking that witty -but scurrilous person, to try the law of libel. If he wins he will -get money in his purse, which is better than an ugly gash in his -side; if he loses he will go home to consider his ways and perchance -amend them, under the stimulus of a just public rebuke—a sadder and -perhaps a _wiser_ man: that, indeed, both he and Rochefort might easily -be.—_Belgravia._ - - - - -JOHN WYCLIFFE: HIS LIFE AND WORK. - - -The quincentenary of the death of John Wycliffe occurring on the 31st -day of this month (December 1884), invites us to review the work -with which the name of Wycliffe is associated and identified. “John -Wycliffe,” says Dean Hook, “may be justly accounted one of the greatest -men that our country has produced. He is one of the very few who have -left the impress of their minds, not only on their own age, but on all -time,”[8] He is also one of the few who are known to us only in their -work, and by their work. For it may be said that, apart from Wycliffe’s -work, we know nothing of the man. His work is his memorial: in it he -lives. - -Wycliffe’s work may be viewed in its relation to the -University—Oxford; to the Crown—the national independence; to the -hierarchy—the clergy; and to the laity—the people. According to this -method of survey and review, Wycliffe appears successively in history -as a student and scholastic disputant; as a politician and patriot; -as a theologian and reformer; and as a Christian evangelist and -preacher of grace, righteousness, and truth. These successive phases -of Wycliffe’s work correspond with the events of his life; and they -indicate the progress of the great work to which Wycliffe had dedicated -his powers. This, again, implies that it was only step by step—little -by little—that Wycliffe’s views assumed that form in which they were -developed and expressed in the later years of his life. - -It is impossible to determine either the date of Wycliffe’s first -admission to Oxford or the college in which he first studied. Of his -early life at the university, as of his earlier life at home, we know -nothing. According to the statements of some of his biographers, -Wycliffe was born in the year 1324, in the hamlet of Spreswell, near -old Richmond, in Yorkshire. In 1340, he went to Oxford, and was one -of the first commoners received into Queen’s college—an institution -opened that year for the first time. After a short attendance in -Queen’s, he joined himself to Merton, and became a fellow of that -famous College. The historian Fuller says that Wycliffe was a graduate -of Merton, but he makes no mention of his having been at an earlier -time connected with Queen’s College. “We can give no account,” he -says, “of Wycliffe’s parentage, birthplace, or infancy; only we find an -ancient family of the Wycliffes in the bishopric of Durham,[9] since by -match united to the Brackenburies, persons of prime quality in those -parts. As for this our Wycliffe, history at the very first meets -with him a man, and full grown, yea, graduate of Merton College in -Oxford.”[10] Of the six Oxford colleges of that time, Merton had -acquired for itself a splendid and well-deserved reputation. “And, -indeed, malice itself cannot deny that this college, or little -university, rather, doth equal, if not exceed, any one foundation in -Christendom, for the famous men bred therein.”[11] Roger Bacon (1280), -_Doctor Mirabilis_; John Duns Scotus (1308), _Doctor Subtilis_; Walter -Burley (1337), _Doctor Approbatus_; William of Ocham (1347), _Doctor -Singularis_ or _Pater Nominalium_; and Thomas Bradwardine (1350), -_Doctor Profundus_,—were all bred in Merton College. John Wycliffe -seems to have early entertained and cherished the ambition to add -his name to the number of those renowned doctors who as students had -preceded him in Merton College. If this was his ambition, he attained -to the object of his desire when, by his contemporaries, he was -recognised as _Doctor Evangelicus_. It would appear that, at an early -period in his life, he had, after much deliberation, made choice of -the Bible or the Gospel as his great theme. To be a “Biblicist,” or -Bible student and interpreter, was not considered a high or honorable -distinction by the schoolmen—the men of “culture” of that age. -But to think for himself and to choose for himself was a notable -characteristic of the young Yorkshireman, John Wycliffe. In making his -choice and in linking himself indissolubly to the Word and “cause of -God,”[12] he seems to have been much influenced by the example and by -the teaching of Bradwardine. But he made it his aim to be a proficient, -and, if possible, a master in all attainable science and learning. -That he had been a thorough student of the Trivium and Quadrivium is -proved by his works, for they all bear the impress of the disciplined -scholastic and the skilful dialectician. In all respects he was a -worthy successor of the distinguished band of men who had been his -predecessors in Merton. The writings of Wycliffe show that he had -studied very carefully the works of Roger Bacon, of Duns Scotus, and of -William of Ocham. But the same writings show that he had early learned -to call no man master—for while he accepts much from Duns Scotus, he -also accepts much from William of Ocham. Truth seems to have been the -object of his early, eager, and constant pursuit. - -The first notable and formal recognition of Wycliffe’s eminence within -the university, is found in his appointment to be Warden or Master -of Balliol. In this honorable office he continued only for a few -years—1360-1362. From Balliol he received nomination to the rectorship -of the parish of Fylingham, in Lincolnshire. Soon after his appointment -to a pastoral cure, he resigned his position as Master of Balliol. -Wycliffe’s connection with the diocese of Lincoln, through his being -rector of Fylingham, seems to have had an important influence on the -progressive development of his ecclesiastical and religious life. A -former Bishop of Lincoln—1235-1254—Grossetête (Greathead), was spoken -of by Roger Bacon as “the only man living” in that age “who was in -possession of all the sciences.” The writings of this great and good -bishop are continually quoted or referred to by Wycliffe. - -A most significant testimony to the standing influence and reputation -of Wycliffe in the university was given in 1365 by Simon Islip, -Archbishop of Canterbury, who appointed him Warden of Canterbury Hall. -In the Archbishop’s letter of institution, Wycliffe is described, “as -one in whose fidelity, circumspection, and prudence his Grace very -much confided, and on whom he had fixed his eyes on account of the -honesty of his life, his laudable conversation, and his knowledge of -letters.” The significance and worth of this testimony can hardly -be overestimated. It is all the more significant because of the -circumstances in which it was given, and the nomination to which it -was designed to give effect. In founding Canterbury Hall, Islip had -appointed Woodhull—a monk of Canterbury—to be Warden. With him three -other monks and eight secular scholars were associated in the -government of the hall. After a trial of four years of this mixed -administration, finding that it did not work well, more particularly -because of the jealousies, contentions, and collisions between the -monks and the secular associates, Islip, in the exercise of a right -which he had reserved to himself, displaced the Warden and the -three other monks, and appointed Wycliffe in the place of Woodhull; -and three secular priests, Selby, Middleworth, and Benger, to be -associates or fellows in the room of the three monks. This action -on the part of the Archbishop gave great offence to the monks of -Christ Church and to the whole order of the Friars. It was regarded -as virtually and in effect an act by which the Archbishop of -Canterbury gave the weight of his high position and great authority -to those who in Oxford were the resolute and strenuous opponents -of the mendicant friars. Consequences that could not have been -foreseen by any concerned in this action flowed from it. For not -long after Wycliffe’s appointment to the Wardenship of Canterbury -Hall, Archbishop Islip died on the 26th April 1366, and was succeeded -in November by Simon Langham, who had been monk, prior, and abbot -of Westminster. By this Archbishop, Wycliffe and the three secular -priests who had been so recently appointed to govern Canterbury -Hall were removed. Woodhull and his associates were reinstated in -the position from which they had been expelled by Islip, and, in -violation of the founder’s will, the eight secular scholars were -ejected. The hall thus became virtually a monastic institution. -Wycliffe’s appeal to the papal court at Avignon was of no avail. -After a protracted process and long delay, the Pope gave judgment -against him in 1370. We cannot better conclude this chapter in -Wycliffe’s life than by quoting the words of Godwin. They will -prepare us for what comes next in the order of events:— - - “From Canterbury College, which his predecessor had - founded, he (Langham) sequestered the fruits of the - benefice of Pageham, and otherwise molested the - scholars there, intending to displace them all and to - put in monks, which in the end he brought to pass. - John Wycliffe was one of them that were so displaced, - and had withstood the Archbishop in this business - with might and main. By the Pope’s favor and the - Archbishop’s power, the monks overbore Wycliffe and - his fellows. If, then, Wycliffe were angry with Pope, - Archbishop, monks, and all, you cannot marvel.”[13] - -Nothwithstanding the very reasonable remark of Godwin that we need -not wonder much if Wycliffe, considering the treatment which he had -received at the hands of the Pope, the Archbishop, and the monks, -should be angry against them all, there is no proof or evidence -whatever in support of the allegation of his adversaries, that his -antagonism to the friars and his attitude towards the Pope proceeded -from irritated feeling, discontent, and disappointed ambition. On -the contrary, the absence of all such feelings is one of the most -remarkable and characteristic distinctions of his numerous writings. - -Wycliffe’s nomination by Islip to the Wardenship of Canterbury Hall -is dated the 9th of December 1365. In that year Pope Urban V. revived -and urged a claim against Edward III. which had been in abeyance for -thirty-three years. This was the demand that Edward should pay the -feudal tribute or annual fee which for the crown of England he owed to -Urban the Fifth of that name, exercising the functions of Bishop of -Rome in the place of the papal captivity at Avignon. The Servant of -servants at Avignon—moved by that necessity which knows no law, or by -an equally lawless covetousness and ambition—demanded of Edward III. -of England payment of the feudal tribute-money alleged to be due by -that monarch to the Holy See. The demand of the Pope was for payment -of the sum of a thousand marks annually due, and for payment of the -arrears that had accumulated for thirty-three years, or since Edward, -ceasing to be a minor, had exercised his sovereign rights as monarch -of England. This papal claim was accompanied with an intimation to -the King of England that, in case of his failing to comply with the -pontifical demand, he should appear to answer for his non-fulfilment of -this duty in the presence of his feudal lord and sovereign, the Pope -of Rome, at Avignon. It is difficult to say whether the arrogance or -the folly of Pope Urban V., in reviving and urging this claim at this -time was the greater of the two. Edward III., even in his decrepitude, -and in the midst of the reverses which marked his declining years, was -not likely to crouch, like John, under the ignominious burden laid -on him in the time of his adversity by the Papacy. The Pope’s claim -proved the occasion of uniting the King and the nation in a common -assertion and vindication of the national independence, and of the -inalienable rights and prerogatives of the English Crown. It was the -occasion of Wycliffe’s first public appearance as the champion of -the royal supremacy and national independence against the usurpation -and arrogance of the Court of Rome. The papal claim was submitted by -Edward to the Parliament which met at Westminster in May 1366. After -deliberation, the answer of the Parliament—the Lords and Commons of -England—to the demand of the Pope, concluded with these weighty and -well-measured words:— - - “Forasmuch as neither King John nor any other king - could bring this realm and kingdom in such thraldom - and subjection but by common consent of Parliament, - the which was not done; therefore, that which he did - was against his oath at his coronation, besides many - other causes. If, therefore, the Pope should attempt - anything against the King, by process or other - matters in deed, the King, with all his subjects, - should with all their force and power resist the - same.”[14] - -At the time when this resolution was come to, Wycliffe was Warden -of Canterbury Hall. At this time, also, he stood in some very -special relation to the King, as the King’s private secretary or -chaplain—“Peculiaris Regis Clericus.” And his argument—“Determinatio -de Dominio”—in vindication of the Crown and the national independence, -consists mainly of a statement skilfully compiled by him out of what, -according to the report which he had heard, had been spoken by the -secular lords in a certain meeting of council—“Quam audivi in quodam -consilio a Dominis secularibus esse datam.” Soon after the decision -of Parliament to repudiate the Pope’s claim, a monastic and anonymous -doctor, writing in support of the papal demand, challenged Wycliffe -by name—singling him out from all others—to refute, if he could, -the argument urged by him on the part of the Pope; and to vindicate, -if he could, the action of the English Parliament in refusing to pay -the feudal tribute demanded by Urban the Fifth. Wycliffe showed no -hesitation in accepting the challenge of this anonymous doctor. And it -must be confessed that he conducts his argument with consummate skill, -moderation, and ability. His challenger had laid down the position that -“every dominion granted on condition, comes to an end on the failure of -that condition. But our lord the Pope gifted our king with the kingdom -of England, on condition that England should pay so much annually to -the Roman See. Now this condition in process of time has not been -fulfilled, and the King, in consequence, has lost long ago all rightful -dominion in England.” Wycliffe’s answer is, briefly, that England’s -monarch is King of England, and has dominion there, not by the grace of -the Pope, but by the grace of God. Two other positions were maintained -by this polemical monk—namely, that the “civil power may not under -any circumstances deprive ecclesiastics of their lands, goods or -revenues; and that in no case can it be lawful for an ecclesiastic to -be compelled to appear before a secular judge.” Against these claims -of exemption and immunity, Wycliffe urges with irresistible force the -argument, that as the King is under God supreme in his kingdom, all -causes, whether relating to persons or to property, must be under his -dominion, and subject to his jurisdiction. Wycliffe, in beginning -his reply, says: “Inasmuch as I am the King’s own clerk, I the more -willingly undertake the office of defending and counselling _that the -King exercises his just rule in the realm of England when he refuses to -pay tribute to the Roman Pontiff_.” Wycliffe constructs his argument -out of what, as reported to him, had been spoken at a conference or -council of the barons or the lords temporal of the realm. It is not -Wycliffe but the noblemen of England who refute the monk and repudiate -the Pope’s illegitimate and arrogant demand. An abstract of the -speeches of seven of the barons met in council is so given as to be an -exhaustive and unanswerable argument against the papal claims, “Our -ancestors,” said the first lord, “won this realm, and held it against -all foes by the sword. Julius Cæsar exacted tribute by force; but force -gives no perpetual right. Let the Pope come and take it by force; I -am ready to stand up and resist him.” The second lord thus reasoned: -“The Pope is incapable of such feudal supremacy. He should follow the -example of Christ, who refused all civil dominion; the foxes have -holes, and the birds of the air their nests, but He had not where to -lay His head. Let us rigidly hold the Pope to his spiritual duties, -boldly oppose all his claims to civil power.” In support of this the -third lord said: “The Pope calls himself the Servant of the servants of -the Most High: his only claim to tribute from this realm is for some -service done; but what is his service to this realm? Not spiritual -edification, but draining away money to enrich himself and his Court, -showing favor and counsel to our enemies.” To this the fourth lord -added: “The Pope claims to be the suzerain of all estates held by the -Church; these estates, held on mortmain, amount to one-third of the -realm. There cannot be two suzerains; the Pope, therefore, for these -estates is the King’s vassal; he has not done homage for them; he may -have incurred forfeiture.” The fifth argument is more subtle: “If the -Pope demands this money as the price of King John’s absolution, it is -flagrant simony; it is an irreligious act to say, ‘I will absolve you -on payment of a certain annual tribute.’ But the King pays not this -tax; it is wrung from the poor of the realm: to exact it is an act of -avarice rather than salutary punishment. If the Pope be lord of the -realm, he may at any time declare it forfeited, and grant away the -forfeiture.” Following up this view of the case, the sixth lord says: -“If the realm be the Pope’s, what right had he to alienate it? He has -fraudulently sold it for a fifth part of its value. Moreover, Christ -alone is the suzerain; the Pope being fallible, yea, peccable, may be -in mortal sin. _It is better as of old to hold the realm immediately of -Christ._” The seventh lord concluded the argument by a bold denial of -the right of King John to surrender or give way the sovereignty of the -realm: “He could not grant away the sovereignty of England; the whole -thing—the deed, the seals, the signatures—is an absolute nullity.”[15] - -It cannot now be known how far Wycliffe’s conduct in connection -with the claim for the payment of the feudal tribute influenced the -papal decision in his appeal; but that decision was given after the -publication of Wycliffe’s treatise, “De Dominio.” And there can be no -doubt that from May 1366, Wycliffe was marked at Avignon as a dangerous -man. To be nearer to Oxford he exchanged, in 1368, the rectory of -Fylingham for that of Ludgershall in Buckinghamshire, and he became -Doctor in Divinity about the year 1370. The ability, prudence, and -courage with which Wycliffe had vindicated the action of the Parliament -and of the Crown against the papal claim, as asserted and defended -by the anonymous monk, recommended him as singularly qualified to be -one of the Royal Commissioners appointed in 1374 to meet with the -papal Nuncios at Bruges, to negotiate a settlement of the questions in -dispute between England and the Papacy. In this Commission the name -of Wycliffe holds the second place, being inserted immediately after -that of the Bishop of Bangor. The negotiations terminated in a sort of -compromise, according to which it was concluded “that for the future -the Pope should desist from making use of _reservations of benefices_, -and that the King should no more confer benefices by his writ _Quare -impedit_.” Although this was but a very partial and unsatisfactory -settlement of the matters in dispute, yet the part taken by Wycliffe in -the negotiations at Bruges appears to have met with the approbation of -the King and his advisers. For in November 1375, he was presented by -the King to the prebend of Aust, in the Collegiate Church of Westbury, -in the diocese of Worcester. He had previously, in April 1374, received -from the Crown, in the exercise of the patronage that devolved on it -during the minority of Lord Henry Ferrars, nomination to the rectory of -Lutterworth, and had resigned his charge of Ludgershall. - -In the same year in which the treaty was concluded (1376), a most -elaborate and detailed indictment against the usurpations and exactions -of the Papacy and its minions was submitted to Parliament, and after -being considered, was passed in the form of a petition to the King, -craving that measures of effective redress and remedy should be -taken against the notorious and intolerable evils complained of. The -Parliament which presented this complaint and petition to the King so -commended itself to the people of England that it received the singular -designation of “The Good Parliament.” Although the royal answer to -the petition was far from being satisfactory or encouraging, yet the -Parliament that met in January 1377 presented another petition to the -King, craving that the statutes against _Provisions_ passed at former -times should be put into effective operation, and that measures should -be taken against certain cardinals who had violated those statutes, -and against those who in England collected the papal revenues, and by -so doing oppressed and impoverished the English people. So vividly do -the propositions of these two Parliaments express and represent the -ideas and opinions of Wycliffe, that Dr. Lechler concludes that he was -a member of both of these Parliaments. But there is no necessity for -this inferential assumption. Wycliffe’s doctrines respecting the kingly -sovereignty and national independence, and his sentiments regarding -the intolerable abuses of the papal officials, were by this time the -doctrines and the sentiments of not a few among the lords and commons -of England. And without being himself a member of Parliament, Wycliffe -had ample opportunity and means for using his influence to stimulate, -direct, and guide those who in the National Assembly gave voice to the -complaint and claim of the English people as against the usurpation -and exactions of the Papacy. To this sort of influence on the part of -Wycliffe, as also to the weight attached to his judgment in a case -involving a knowledge of canon and civil law, significant testimony -was borne by the action of the first Parliament of Richard II., which -met at Westminster on the 13th of October 1377. By this Parliament the -question was referred to the judgment of Dr. Wycliffe, “Whether the -kingdom of England, on an imminent necessity of its own defence may -lawfully detain the treasure of the kingdom, that it be not carried -out of the land, although the lord Pope required its being carried -out on the pain of censures, and by virtue of the obedience due to -him?” As might be expected, Wycliffe answered that it was lawful, and -demonstrated this by the law of Christ, urging at the same time the -common maxim of divines, that alms are not required to be given but to -those who are in need, and by those who have more than they need. “By -which,” says Lewis, “it appears that Dr. Wycliffe’s opinion was, that -Peter-pence paid to the Pope were not a _just due_, but only an _alms_, -or charitable gift”[16] - -The action of the English Parliament referring this question to the -judgment of Wycliffe, is all the more interesting and significant -if respect be had to the time and circumstances in which Wycliffe’s -opinion was required by Parliament. It was not only after the death -of Edward III., which occurred on the 21st of June 1377, but also -after the almost tragical though picturesque incident in Wycliffe’s -life, when, accompanied and protected by the Duke of Lancaster and -Lord Henry Percy, he appeared in the Ladye Chapel of St. Paul’s -Cathedral on the 19th of February in the same year, to answer for -himself and his doctrines before a convention of ecclesiastics, -presided over by Simon Sudbury, Archbishop of Canterbury, assisted by -Courtenay, the Bishop of London. It was, also, after no fewer than -five papal bulls, dated at Rome on the 22d of May, had been sent forth -against Wycliffe. These things give great significancy to the action -of Richard II.‘s first Parliament, when for its guidance it desired to -have the opinion of Wycliffe respecting the lawfulness of refusing to -comply with certain papal exactions. - -The position and influence of Wycliffe, his standing in the University -and among the representatives and leaders of the people, may be judged -of by the elaborate and complicated measures taken against him. One -of the Pope‘s missives was addressed to the King, another to the -University of Oxford and no fewer than three to the Archbishop of -Canterbury and the Bishop of London. These documents were accompanied -by a schedule or syllabus of nineteen articles which had been reported -to the Pontiff, “erroneous, false, contrary to the faith, and -threatening to subvert and weaken the estate of the whole Church,” said -to be held and taught by Wycliffe. Acting on these instructions, and -proceeding in the business with the greatest wariness, the Archbishop -summoned Wycliffe to appear before a synod to be held in the chapel -at Lambeth early in the year 1378.[17] On this occasion the Duke of -Lancaster and Lord Percy were not with him to protect him, but he -received effective though tumultuous and boisterous help from the -citizens, who might be heard by the bishops shouting such sentences -as, “The Pope‘s briefs ought to have no effect in the realm without -the King‘s consent;” “Every man is master in his own house.” But even -more effective help than that of the angry citizens was at hand. “In -comes a gentleman and courtier, one Lewis Clifford, on the very day of -examination, commanding them not to proceed to any definitive sentence -against the said Wycliffe.” “Never before were the bishops served with -such a _prohibition_; all agreed the messenger durst not be so stout -with such a _mandamus_ in his mouth, but because backed with the power -of the prince that employed him. The bishops, struck with a panic-fear, -proceeded no further”[18]—or as a contemporary historian (Walsingham) -says: “Their speech became soft as oil; and with such fear were they -struck, that they seemed to be as a man that heareth not, and in whose -mouth are no reproofs.” Wycliffe passed as safely out of Lambert Chapel -as on a former occasion he had passed out of the Ladye Chapel of St. -Paul‘s. Not long after the sudden conclusion of this Lambeth synod, -intimation of the Pope‘s death, on the 27th March 1378, was received in -England. This so arrested the process against Wycliffe, that no further -action was taken under the five elaborate bulls of Pope Gregory XI. -A new chapter in the life and work of Wycliffe begins with the great -papal schism of 1378. - -Till recently it was supposed that Wycliffe had early assumed the -attitude towards the friars which had been taken by Richard Fitzralph, -who, after he had been Chancellor of Oxford in 1333, and Archbishop of -Armagh in 1347, died at Avignon in 1359. This supposition now appears -to be historically without ground; and Dr. Lechler‘s researches tend -to show that Wycliffe‘s controversy with the friars belonged not to -the earlier but to the later period of his life. This view agrees with -all that we know of the method according to which Wycliffe conducted -and developed his great argument against the Papacy. Wycliffe‘s study -of the papal claims, pretensions, usurpations, and exactions, led him -to investigate the grounds and foundations not only of the political, -but also of the ecclesiastical and spiritual, power and authority of -the Popedom. In his reply in 1366 to the anonymous monk champion of the -Papacy, he had represented or reported, with manifest approbation, the -statement of one of the secular lords, declaring that the Pope was a -man and peccable (_peccabilis_), and that he might be in mortal sin, -and liable to what that involves. After he had taken his degree of -Doctor in Divinity in 1370 or 1371, he expounded and vindicated from -the Scriptures the doctrines which, by his long study of the Divine -Word, he had been led to receive as articles of faith founded on the -written Word of God. These views, derived directly and immediately from -Holy Scripture, he illustrated by quotations from the early -fathers—more particularly from the writings of Ambrose, Jerome, -Augustine, and Gregory, the four fathers of the Latin Church. From the -time when he became Doctor in Divinity, “he began,” says a contemporary -opponent, “to scatter forth his blasphemies.” And as we know, it was -after his return from Bruges in 1376 that he began to speak of the -Pope not merely as peccable—fallible, and liable to sin—but as -“Antichrist, the proud, worldly priest of Rome.” - -It has been said that the language of Wycliffe in his tract entitled -“De Papa Romana et Schisma Papae” was too strong, too vehement and -sweeping; and that his work was, in tendency and effect, destructive -rather than constructive. So far is it from being true that his -language is that of passion, or of vehemence proceeding from passion, -that, on the contrary, it is the language of a reflective, circumspect, -and keen-eyed observer of the evils and abuses of the papal system, -which he contrasted with the primitive and apostolic model of the -Church. When compared with the language of some other assailants -of the Papacy, Wycliffe‘s fiercest invectives are but the calm, -measured, and temperate declaration of truth and reality, spoken by -one who so loved the truth, and was so earnest in his endeavors for -the reformation of the Church and the morals of the clergy, that he -avowed himself willing, if need be, to lay down his life, if by so -doing he could promote the attainment of this end. If the portraiture -of the Papacy and of the papal dignitaries, officials, and underlings, -given by Petrarch, in his “Letters to a Father,” be compared with the -statements of Wycliffe, we shall be constrained to say that the Oxford -professor uses the language of reserve characteristic of the well-bred -and well-disciplined Englishman who means to give practical effect -to his words, as distinguished from the language used by Petrarch, -who neither intended, nor had the courage, to add deeds to his words. -Historically, Wycliffe‘s work appears to have been more destructive -than constructive. But this was not because Wycliffe set himself to -root out, to pull down, and to destroy, without, at the same time -setting himself to build and to plant. The reason why Wycliffe‘s work -appears historically defective or incomplete as a constructive work -is that, by the malice, ingenuity, and power of his adversaries, -his work in planting and in building—that is to say, his work as -constructive—was to the utmost impeded, pulled down, or rooted up. -“And,” says Milton, “had it not been the obstinate perverseness of -our prelates against the divine and admirable spirit of Wycliffe, -to suppress him as a schismatic and innovator, perhaps neither the -Bohemian Huss and Jerome, no, nor the name of Luther or of Calvin, had -been ever known; the glory of reforming all our neighbors had been -completely ours.”[19] - - * * * * * - -The last six years of Wycliffe‘s life—1378-1384—were packed full -with work. For in these years, besides developing and expounding his -ideas of the Church, the Papacy, and the hierarchy, and prosecuting -his controversy with the mendicant friars, he trained and sent forth -evangelists, “poor priests” to preach the Gospel in all places of the -land; he expounded and taught the doctrine of Scripture concerning -the Eucharist or the “real presence” in relation to the bread and -the wine in the sacrament of the Lord‘s Supper; he professed and -taught theology in Oxford; he preached and discharged the duties of -an evangelical pastor in Lutterworth; and with the assistance of a -few fellow-laborers, who entered into his purpose and shared with him -in the desire for the evangelisation of the people of England, he -translated the Scriptures out of the Latin Vulgate into the English -tongue. “His life,” and more especially this part of it, “shows that -his religious views were progressive. His ideal was the restoration -of the pure moral and religious supremacy to religion. This was -the secret, the vital principle, of his anti-sacerdotalism; of his -pertinacious enmity to the whole hierarchical system of his day.”[20] -Hence as his views of truth became deeper, wider, and more fixed, -instead of attacking Popes and prelates, he assailed the Papacy and -the hierarchy; and instead of attacking friars, he attacked mendicancy -itself—denouncing it in common with the Papacy as contrary to -the doctrines of the Word of God, and inconsistent with the order -instituted by Christ within the Church, which is the house of God,—the -pillar and ground of the truth. - -When Wycliffe appeared to answer for himself before the Pope‘s -delegates at Lambeth, in 1378, he is said to have presented a written -statement explanatory of the articles charged against him. The first -sentence of that documentary confession is: “First of all, I publicly -protest, as I have often done at other times, that I will and purpose -from the bottom of my heart, by the grace of God, to be a sincere -Christian, and, as long as I have breath, to profess and defend the law -of Christ so far as I am able.”[21] - -A document of a somewhat similar kind, called by Wycliffe “A Sort of -Answer to the Bull sent to the University,” was presented by him to -Parliament. - -It is as a true and sincere Christian, and as a faithful and laborious -Christian pastor and evangelist, that Wycliffe appears before us in the -closing period of his truly heroic life. The written word of God is now -to him the supreme, perfect and sufficient rule of faith and morals: -it is what, in his protestation, he calls “the law of Christ.” The -watchword of his life—the standard test, rule, directory, and measure -of faith and duty—is the Word of God written. His appeal is, first and -last, to that Word—“To the law and to the testimony; if men speak not -according to that Word, there is no light in them;” they are but blind -guides of the blind. He had evidently made progress in his study of the -writings of Augustine, and had so profited by the study that he is bold -to say that “The dictum of Augustine is not infallible, seeing that -Augustine himself was liable to err”—“Locus a testimonio Augustini non -est infallibilis, cum Augustinus sit errabilis.” The Bible is a charter -written by God; it is God‘s gift to us: “Carta a Deo scripta et -nobis donata per quam vindicabimus regnum Dei.” This is what a -pre-eminently illustrious poet denotes by the words—“Thy gift, Thy -tables.” “The law of Christ is the _medulla_ of the laws of the -Church.” “Every useful law of holy mother Church is taught, either -explicitly or implicitly, in Scripture.” It is impossible that the -dictum or deed of any Christian should become, or be held to be, of -authority equal to Scripture. He is a _mixtim theologus_—a motley or -medley theologian—who adds traditions to the written Word. He is -_theologus purus_ who adheres to the Scripture. “Spiritual rulers -are bound to use the sincere Word of God, without any admixture in -their rule or administration. To be ignorant of the Scriptures is to -be ignorant of Christ.” “The whole of Scripture is one word of God.” -“The whole of the law of Christ is one perfect word proceeding from -the mouth of God.” “It is impious to mutilate or pervert Scripture, -or to wrest from it a perverse meaning.” The true preachers are _Viri -evangelici_, _Doctores evangelici_. Ignorance of Holy Scripture, or -the absence of faith in the written Word of God, is, he says, “beyond -doubt, the chief cause of the existing state of things.” Therefore -it was his great business, in life or by death, to make known to -his fellow-countrymen the will of God revealed in the Scriptures of -Truth. The highest service to which man may attain on earth is to -preach the law of God. This is the special duty of the priests, in -order that they may produce children of God—this being the end for -which Christ espoused to Himself the Church.” - -Next to the exclusive supremacy of Scripture, the truth which is set -forth with perhaps the most marked prominency in the teaching of -Wycliffe, is the truth concerning the Lord Jesus Christ as the one -Mediator between God and man. Christ is not only revealed in the Word; -he is Himself the Mediating Word—the way, and the truth, and the life. -And what Wycliffe says of the Apostle Paul, that he lifts the banner of -his Captain, in that he glories only in the cross of Christ, admits, as -Dr. Lechler remarks, of being justly applied to Wycliffe himself; -for his text is the evangel, and his theme is Christ. Like Luther -afterwards, Wycliffe lived through the truth which he proclaimed. -In his case the order was, first the Word, then Christ. In Luther‘s -it was, first the Word, then justification by faith. The German‘s -experience implied the logical order of the Englishman‘s experience. -For the logic of this faith is the Word of grace, the Christ of grace, -the righteousness of grace. Luther‘s work implies, develops, and -completes the work of Wycliffe, so that it holds true that the one -without the other is not made perfect. - -In the year 1380, after recovery from a severe illness, Wycliffe -published a tract in which he formulated his charges against the -friars under fifty distinct heads, accusing them of fifty heresies; -and many more, as he said, if their tenets and practices be searched -out. “Friars,” says he, towards the conclusion of this tract, “are the -cause, beginning, and maintaining of perturbation in Christendom, and -of all the evils of this world; nor shall these errors be removed until -friars be brought to the freedom of the Gospel and the clean religion -of Jesus Christ.” - -Wycliffe did not indulge in mere denunciation. His invectives were -with a view to the work of reformation. Accordingly, at the time when -he published the fifty charges against the friars he was actively -training, organising, and sending out agents—“poor priests” to -instruct the people in the knowledge of the Gospel, and by so doing -undo the works of the friars, and promote evangelical religion and -social virtue. At first these itinerant preachers were employed in -some places, as in the immense diocese of Lincoln, under episcopal -sanction.[22] But so effectively and extensively did they propagate -the evangelical doctrines of Wycliffe, that in Archbishop Courtenay‘s -mandate to the Bishop of London in 1382, they are denounced as -“unauthorised itinerant preachers, who set forth erroneous, yea, -heretical, assertions in public sermons, not only in churches, but also -in public squares, and other profane places; and who do this under -the guise of great holiness, but without having obtained any -episcopal or papal authorisation.” It was against Wycliffe‘s -“poor priests” or itinerant preachers that the first royal -proclamation in 1382 (statute it cannot be called), at the instance -of Courtenay, for the punishment of heresy in England, was issued. -The unprecedented measures taken against the “poor priests” bear -most significant testimony to the effect produced by their teachings -throughout the kingdom. It would be interesting to know how far, -if at all, Wesley‘s idea of itinerant preachers was founded on, or -proceeded from, the idea and the experiment of Wycliffe. At any rate, -these poor priests were not organised, nor was their action modelled, -according to any of the guilds, fraternities, or orders that had been -formed or that had been in operation before the time of Wycliffe. The -idea was truly original, and “the simplicity of the institution was -itself a stroke of consummate genius.”[23] - -Having acted out his own principles that the student who would attain -to the knowledge of the meaning of Scripture must cultivate humility -of disposition and holiness of life, putting away from him all -prejudicate opinions, and all merely curious and speculative theories -and casuistical principles of interpretation, Wycliffe opened and -studied the Bible with the desire simply to know and to do the will of -God. It is no wonder if, with these sentiments, Wycliffe in his later -years, when engaged continually in reading, studying, expounding, and -translating the Scriptures, should come to perceive the contrariety of -the papal or mediæval doctrine concerning the Eucharist to the doctrine -of Scripture. - -Wycliffe‘s views respecting transubstantiation having undergone -a great change between the years 1378 and 1381, he felt bound in -conscience to make known what he now came to believe to be the -true doctrine concerning the Eucharist. For, as he says in the -“Trialogus,” “I maintain that among all the heresies which have ever -appeared in the Church, there was never one which was more cunningly -smuggled in by hypocrites than this, or which in more ways deceives -the people; for it plunders the people, leads them astray into -idolatry, denies the teaching of Scripture, and by this unbelief -provokes the Truth Himself often-times to anger.”[24] In accordance -with all this, Wycliffe in the spring of 1381 published twelve -short theses or conclusions respecting the Eucharist and against -transubstantiation.”[25] - -All Oxford was moved by these conclusions. By the unanimous judgment of -a court called and presided over by William de Bertram, the Chancellor, -they were declared to be contradictory to the orthodox doctrine of -the Church, and as such were prohibited from being set forth and -defended in the university, on pain of suspension from every function -of teaching, of the greater excommunication, and of imprisonment. By -the same mandate all members of the university were prohibited, on pain -of the greater excommunication, from being present at the delivery -of these theses in the university. When this mandate was served on -Wycliffe, he was in the act of expounding the doctrine of Scripture -concerning the Lord‘s Supper. The condemnation of his doctrine came -upon him as a surprise; but he is reported to have said that neither -the Chancellor nor any of his assessors could refute his arguments or -alter his convictions. Subsequently he appealed from the Chancellor to -the King. In the meantime, finding himself “tongue-tied by authority,” -he wrote a treatise on this subject in Latin,[26] and also a tract in -English entitled “The Wicket,” for the use of the people. Wycliffe‘s -doctrinal system may be said to have attained to its completeness when, -rejecting the idea of transubstantiation, he accepted those simple -and Scriptural views of the Eucharist which, apart from papalism or -medievalism, have in all ages prevailed within the Catholic Church— -that is, within the society or congregation of believers in Christ, -irrespectively of name, place, time, ceremony, or circumstance. While -this is so, “it is impossible,” as Dr. Lechler truly says, “not to be -impressed with the intellectual labor, the conscientiousness, and the -force of will, all equally extraordinary, which Wycliffe applied to the -solution of this problem. His attack on the dogma of transubstantiation -was so concentrated, and delivered (with so much force and skill) from -so many sides, that the scholastic conception was shaken to its very -foundations.”[27] He anticipated in his argument against the medieval -dogma, and in favor of the primitive and catholic faith concerning the -Eucharist, the views of the greatest and best of the Reformers, leaving -to them little more to do than to gather up, expound, develop, and -apply his principles. - -Soon after the proceedings which we have noted were taken against -Wycliffe, the country was threatened with anarchy by what is known as -the Wat Tyler and Jack Straw insurrection. It is enough to say that -Wycliffe had nothing whatever to do with the exciting of that reckless -uprising. All his studies, meditations, and labors were designed to -promote righteousness and peace, truth and goodwill, order and liberty, -in England and all over the earth. - -In the tract, “A Short Rule of Life, for each man in general, for -priests and lords and laborers in special, How each shall be saved in -his degree,” addressing the “laborer,” he says:— - - “If thou art a _laborer_, live in meekness, and - truly and willingly, so thy lord or thy master, if he - be a heathen man, by thy meekness, willing and true - service, may not have to grudge against thee, nor - slander thy God, nor thy Christian profession, but - rather be stirred to come to Christianity, and serve - not Christian lords with grudgings, not only in their - presence, but truly and willingly, and in absence; - not only for worldly dread, or worldly reward, but - for dread of conscience, and for reward in heaven. - For God that putteth thee in such service knoweth - what state is best for thee, and will reward thee - more than all earthly lords may if thou dost it truly - and willingly for His ordinance. And in all things - beware of grudging against God and His visitation in - great labor, in long or great sickness, and other - adversities. And beware of wrath, of cursing, of - speaking evil, of banning man or beast, and ever keep - patience, meekness, and charity, both to God and man.” - -As we cannot afford space to give what is said to “lords,” whom he -counsels to - - “live a rightful life in their own persons, both in - respect to God and man, keeping the commandments of - God, doing the works of mercy, ruling well their - five senses, and doing reason, and equity, and good - conscience to all men,”— - -we merely give here his concluding words:— - - “And thus each man in the three states ought to life, - to save himself, and to help others; and thus should - life, rest, peace, and love, be among Christian men, - and they be saved, and heathen men soon converted, - and God magnified greatly in all nations and sects - that now despise Him and His law, because of the - false living of wicked Christian men.” - -These are not the sentiments or utterances of a man in fellowship with -John Ball, Wat Tyler, Jack Straw, or any other such demagogues, rebels, -or sowers of sedition. - -The truth, as stated by Milman,[28] is, that this spasm or “outburst” -of “thralled discontent” was but a violent symptom of the evils -which it was the aim and design of Wycliffe to uproot and remove, by -disseminating and inculcating everywhere the principles and precepts -of the Gospel. Writing in defence of the “poor priests” or evangelists -whom he had trained and sent out, Wycliffe says:— - - “These poor priests destroien most, by God‘s - law, rebelty of servants agenst lords, and charge - servants to be sujet, though lords be tyrants. For - St Peter teacheth us, Be ye servants suget to lords - in all manner of dread, not only to good lords, and - bonoure, but also to tyrants, or such as drawen from - God’s school. For, as St. Paul sieth, each man oweth - to be suget to higher potestates, that is, to men of - high power, for there is no power but of God, and - so he that agen stondeth power, stondeth agenst the - ordinance of God, but they that agenstond engetten - to themselves damnation. And therefore Paul biddeth - that we be suget to princes by need, and not only - for wrath but also for conscience, and therefore we - paien tributes to princes, for they ben ministers of - God.” But “some men that ben out of charity slandren - ‘poor priests’ with this error, that servants or - tenants may lawfully withhold rent and service fro - their lords, when lords be openly wicked in their - living;” and “they maken these false lesings upon - ‘poor priests’ to make lords to hate them, and not to - meyntane truth of God’s law that they teachen openly - for worship of God, and profit of the realm, and - stabling the King’s power in destroying of sin.”[29] - -Among the victims of the rage of the rabble in the Wat Tyler -insurrection was Simon Sudbury, the Archbishop of Canterbury. “He -was,” says Godwin, “a man admirably wise and well spoken.” But “though -he were very wise, learned, eloquent, liberal, merciful and for his -age and place reverend, yet might it not deliver him from the rage -of this beast with many heads—the multitude—than which being, once -incensed, there is no brute beast more cruel, more outrageous, more -unreasonable.”[30] - -William Courtenay, Bishop of London, succeeded Sudbury as Archbishop -of Canterbury. Courtenay, a high-tempered, haughty, and resolute man, -lost no time in bringing the powers of his new and high position to -bear against the doctrines and adherents of Wycliffe. His pall from -Rome having been delivered to him at Croydon on the 6th of May 1382, -he summoned a synod to meet in the Grey Friars (mendicants) in London, -on the 17th of May, to deliberate and determine on the measures to be -taken for the suppression of certain stranger and dangerous opinions -“widely prevalent among the nobility and commons of the realm.” During -the sittings of this synod a great and terrible earthquake shook the -place of meeting and the whole city. Many of the high dignitaries -and learned doctors assembled, interpreting this event as a protest -from heaven against the proceedings of the council, would fain have -adjourned the meeting and its business. But the Archbishop, with ready -wit, interpreting the omen to suit his own purpose, said, “the earth -was throwing off its noxious vapors, that the Church might appear in -her perfect purity,” With these words Courtenay allayed the fears of -the more timid members of the synod, and the business went forward. -Of four and twenty articles extracted from Wycliffe’s writings, ten -were condemned as heretical, and the other fourteen were judged -erroneous. It is unnecessary to say that among the articles condemned -as heretical were the doctrines of Wycliffe concerning the Eucharist, -and more particularly his denial of transubstantiation. Among the -condemned tenets there are some which Wycliffe never held or affirmed -in the sense put upon them by the “Earthquake Council.” Some of the -determinations of this synod were so framed as to imply or insinuate -that Wycliffe was implicated in the insurrection of the previous year, -and that he was an enemy to temporal as well as to the ecclesiastical -authority—in other words, that he was a traitor as well as heretic. An -imposing procession, and a sermon by a Carmelite friar, served to give -solemnity and publicity, pomp and circumstance, to the decrees of the -synod. - -Dr. Peter Stokes, a Carmelite preacher, furnished with the Archbishop’s -mandate and other artillery, was sent to bombard Oxford or to take it -by storm. But neither the scholars nor the Chancellor (Rigge) were -disposed to surrender the university without a struggle in defence -of its rights and liberties. The reception given to Dr. Stokes was -not at all satisfactory or assuring to the mind of the Archbishop of -Canterbury, who indignantly gave expression to his sorrow and his -anger in the words: “Is, then, the University of Oxford such a fautor -of heresy that Catholic truths cannot be asserted within her walls?” -Assuming to himself the ominous title of “Inquisitor of heretical -pravity within his whole province of Canterbury,” he proceeded to -deal with Oxford as if it were nothing more than one of the outlying -parishes of his episcopal province. The chancellor and several members -of the university were summoned to appear before him and to purge -themselves of the suspicion of heresy. But Chancellors like Rigge, -although courteous, are not readily compliant with what seems to invade -the privileges and prerogatives of their office. If Chancellor Rigge, -after his return to Oxford from London, gave formal effect to the -injunctions of the Archbishop, by intimating to Nicolas Hereford and -Philip Repington that he was under the necessity of suspending them -from all their functions as members of the university, he promptly -resented the insolence of Henry Cromp, who in a public lecture had -applied the epithet “Lollards” to those who maintained the views of -Wycliffe, by suspending him from all university functions.[31] Against -this sentence Cromp sought and found refuge in an appeal to Courtenay -and to the Privy Council. Hereford, Repington, and John Aston were -summoned to appear before the Archbishop. Aston was declared to be -a teacher of heresy, and he afterwards recanted. Repington also -recanted after a time, and was promoted to great honors in the Church. -Hereford, having gone to Rome to plead his case before the Pope, was -there imprisoned; but it would seem that some time afterwards he -managed to escape from prison, for in 1387 he is mentioned as the -leading itinerant preacher of the Lollards. Thus within a few months -after Courtenay entered on the discharge of the functions of his high -office, he had greatly intimidated the adherents and fellow-laborers -of Wycliffe in the university. But opinion rooted in conviction is -not easily suppressed. While the more prominent representatives of -Wycliffe’s adherents were either driven out of the country or coerced -into submission, and to the recantation of opinions which they had held -and taught, Wycliffe himself stood firm and erect amidst the tempest -that raged around. As if in calm defiance of the Archbishop and his -commissaries, he indited a petition to the King and the Parliament, -in which he craves their assent to the main articles contained in his -writings, and proved by authority—the Word of God—and reason to be -the Christian faith; he prays that all persons now bound by vows of -religion may have liberty to accept and follow the more perfect law of -Christ; that tithes be bestowed according to their proper use, for the -maintenance of the poor; that Christ’s own doctrine concerning the -Eucharist be publicly taught; that neither the King nor the kingdom -obey any See or prelate further than their obedience be grounded on -Scripture; that no money be sent out of the realm to the Court of Rome -or of Avignon, unless proved by Scripture to be due; that no Cardinal -or foreigner hold preferment in England; that if a bishop or curate -be notoriously guilty of contempt of God, the King should confiscate -his temporalities; that no bishop or curate should be enslaved to -secular office; and that no one should be imprisoned on account of -excommunication.[32] - -This is Wycliffe’s petition of right to the King and to the Parliament -of England. We know nothing exactly like this document in the history -of the past five hundred years. In one or two of the claims set forth -in it, the document which bears to it the greatest resemblance is an -anonymous petition addressed to King James in 1609, being “An Humble -Supplication for Toleration and Liberty to enjoy and observe the -Ordinances of Christ Jesus, in the administration of His Churches in -lieu of human Constitutions.” But compared with Wycliffe’s petition, -that other is narrow and restricted in its range. This of Wycliffe is, -like his work, for all time. In it he seems to have gathered up the -principles that governed his life, and to have expressed them so that -this document may be regarded as a summary of principles, a sort of -Enchiridion for the use of the statesmen and people of England. - -It is more than doubtful whether Wycliffe appeared before the -Archbishop at Oxford in 1382; and it is certain that no recantation -ever proceeded from his lips or pen. In the absence of any adequate -reason hitherto assigned for Wycliffe’s immunity or personal safety in -a time so perilous, may the reason have been that, silenced in Oxford -by the decree of the preceding year, Wycliffe left the university, and, -retiring to his rectory of Lutterworth, enjoyed there the protection -of the Bishop of Lincoln, John Bokingham? Within the very extensive -diocese of Lincoln, we know that for a time Wycliffe’s “poor priests” -enjoyed the episcopal protection. Is it too much to suppose that John -Bokingham, who protected and gave episcopal sanction to Wycliffe’s -preachers, extended his protection to Wycliffe himself? This “John -Bokingham if this were the Bishop of Lincoln accounted of some very -unlearned, was a doctor of divinity of Oxford, a great learned man in -scholastical divinity, as divers works of his still extant may testify, -and for my part, I think this bishop to be the man. The year 1397, the -Pope bearing him some grudge, translated him perforce from Lincolne -unto Lichfield, a bishopric not half so good. For curst heart he would -not take it, but, as though he had rather have no bread than half a -loaf, forsook both, and became a monk at Canterbury. He was one of -the first founders of the bridge at Rochester.”[33] Our conjecture if -probable or true to fact, would explain not a little that has hitherto -perplexed the biographers of Wycliffe. - -But apart from this conjecture and all similar guesses and suggestions, -perhaps the real cause of Wycliffe’s safety was the regard cherished -for him by many of the nobility and leaders of the people, and the -esteem in which he was held by the King’s mother—“the fair maid of -Kent”—whose message, conveyed by Sir Lewis Clifford, brought the -proceedings of the Lambeth Synod to an abrupt termination. Nor must the -protecting influence of Richard’s wife, the Queen—Ann of Bohemia—be -ignored. For in his book “Of the Three-fold Love” Wycliffe says: “It -is possible that the noble Queen of England, the sister of Cæsar, may -have and use the Gospel written in three languages—Bohemian, German, -and Latin. But to hereticate her on that account would be Luciferian -folly.” But after all the circumstances of the case have been -considered, we may say with Fuller: “In my mind it amounted to little -less than a miracle, that during this storm on his disciples, Wycliffe -their master should live in quiet. Strange that he was not drowned -in so strong a stream as ran against him, whose safety under God’s -providence is not so much to be ascribed to his own strength in -swimming as to such as held him up by the chin—the greatness of his -noble supporters.”[34] It would appear as if King Richard himself must -be reckoned one at least among Wycliffe’s “noble supporters.” This -seems to be implied in what appears to be a reference to himself, -made in one of his last-written treatises, the “Frivolous Citations,” -being the citations addressed by the Popes to those who were offensive -to them. In that remarkable treatise the arguments in favor of papal -citations are shown to be untenable and sophistical, and the assumption -of temporal power by the Pope, as exercised in the citation of those -not subject to his jurisdiction, is shown to be unjustifiable. From all -this the conclusion is, that the Church should return to primitive and -apostolic simplicity—the simplicity of the Gospel of Christ without -the Pope and his statutes. In the fourth chapter he maintains that -three things warrant any one cited to refuse obedience to the citation: -necessary business, illness, and the prohibition of the sovereign -of the realm: “Primum est gravis necessitas, quæ videtur maxima in -custodia Christi ovium, ne a lupis rapacibus lanientur. Secundum est -infirmitas corporis, propter quam deficit citato dispositio data a -domino ad taliter laborandum. Et tertium est preceptio regia, quando -rex precepit, sicut debet, suo legio, ne taliter extra suam provinciam -superflue evagetur. Et omnes istæ tres causæ vel aliqua earum in -qualibet citatione hujusmodi sunt reperte, et specialiter cum rex -regum prohibeat taliter evagari.” All this he applies to his own case, -in language implying that he had been cited to appear to answer for -himself before the Pope: “Et sic dicit, quidam debilis et claudus -citatus ad hanc curiam, quod prohibitio regia impedit ipsum ire, quia, -rex regum necessitat et vult efficaciter, quod non vagat. Dicit etiam -quod domi oportet ipsum eligere Pontificam Iesum Christum, quod est -gravis necessitas eo, quod cum ejus omissione vel negligentia non -potest Romanus Pontifex vel aliquis angelus dispensare.”[35] The words -seem to imply not only that he was cited to appear before the Pope, -but that in declining to obey the papal summons, he could plead bodily -infirmity, the will of the King of kings, and also the prohibition of -the only earthly sovereign to whom he owed a subject’s duty. Shirley, -writing in 1858, says—“From his retreat at Lutterworth they summoned -him before the papal court. The citation did not reach him till -1384.”[36] If so, then his tract “De Citationibus Frivolis” was one of -the last of the many writings that proceeded from his pen. - -Before we make the briefest possible reference to the last and greatest -work of Wycliffe—his translation of the Bible—we may here allude to -the marvellous productiveness of the mind of this great Englishman of -the fourteenth century. In this respect, as in other characteristics -of his genius, there is only one other name in English literature that -is entitled to take rank and place beside John Wycliffe, and that is -the name of William Shakespeare. Chaucer and Langland and Gower, the -contemporaries of Wycliffe, wrote much, and wrote so as not only to -prove the previously unknown capabilities of the half-formed English -language for giving expression to every variety of poetical conception, -but these illustrious poets also so wrote as to be the forerunners and -the leaders of those who, since the time when the English mind was set -free by the Reformation, have marched, and continue to march, as the -poets of England in splendid equipage in their proud procession through -the ages. But the intellectual and literary productiveness of Chaucer -and Langland and Gower comes far short of the truly extraordinary -productiveness of the genius of Wycliffe. Nothing but ignorance of what -Wycliffe did for the highest forms of thought in the University, for -the dignity and independence of the State, for truth and freedom in -the Church, and for virtue and godliness among the English people, and -through them among all the nations of the world, can account for the -indifference to the name and memory of Wycliffe, which prevails not in -Oxford alone, but throughout the country:— - - “To the memory of one of the greatest of Englishmen, - his country has been singularly and painfully - ungrateful. On most of us the dim image looks down, - like the portrait of the first of a long line of - kings, without personality or expression. He is the - first of the Reformers. To some he is the watchword - of a theological controversy, invoked most loudly - by those whom he would most have condemned. Of his - works, the greatest, ‘one of the most thoughtful of - the middle ages,’ has twice been printed abroad, in - England never.[37] Of his original English works, - nothing beyond one or two tracts has seen the light. - If considered only as the father of English prose, - the great Reformer might claim more reverential - treatment at our hands. It is not by his translation - of the Bible, remarkable as that work is, that - Wycliffe can be judged as a writer. It is in his - original tracts that the exquisite pathos, the keen - delicate irony, the manly passion of his short - nervous sentences, fairly overmasters the weakness - of the unformed language, and gives us English which - cannot be read without a feeling of its beauty to - this hour.”[38] - -The mind of Wycliffe was constitutionally of large capacity—strong, -many-sided, intense. The strength and the luminousness of his -understanding, operating through an emotional nature of great -tranquillity and depth, found for themselves unimpeded expression in -the force and energy of a self-determining and resolute will. His -deliberations, not his passions, prompted, directed, and controlled -his actions. Hence the decisiveness of his conclusions; hence also -the heroic pertinacity with which he adhered to his convictions, and, -whether amidst compliments or curses, prosecuted his work. For to him -personally, _dominion_ signified the lordship of the intellect over the -emotions, the sovereignty of conscience over the intellect, and the -monarchy of God over all. The “possessioner” of rich and varied mental -endowments, he put forth all to use. For in all the departments -of learning and science, John Wycliffe was second to none whose -names adorn the annals of Oxford University and are the glory of -England. Wycliffe’s works, when known in Oxford and in this country -will not only vindicate what we have said, but will show that if -his constitutional abilities were singularly great, his industry -was indefatigable, and his studious course splendidly progressive. -“Proscribed and neglected as he afterwards became, there was a time -when Wycliffe was the most popular writer in Europe.”[39] Contact with -his mind through his works, seems to have had a remarkably infectious -influence on the men of his time and on the following generation. Hence -the unexampled measures taken not by William Courtenay alone, but by -successive Popes and by the Council of Constance (1415), to suppress -the heresies of Wycliffe. This influence of contact with his spirit in -his writings, shows itself very notably in the case of the able and -critical historian, Milman. Milman’s own mind was of great capacity -and force. But the vigor and enthusiasm of that mind seem to reveal -themselves more in the chapter on Wycliffe than in any other section of -his great work. There is an unusual glow—one might say fervor—as of -sympathetic appreciation, in the greater part of that chapter.[40] - -Shirley’s statement that “Wycliffe is a very voluminous, a proscribed, -and a neglected writer,” is verified by the catalogue which Shirley -himself, at the cost of considerable labor scattered over a period of -some ten or twelve years, compiled, and published in 1865. By compiling -and publishing this catalogue, Professor Shirley rendered great service -not only to the memory of Wycliffe but also to English literature. -Bale, Bishop of Ossory (1563), the author of many most valuable but now -little appreciated, because little known, works, in his “Summarium,”[41] -first published in 1547, gives a list of 242 of Wycliffe’s writings, -with their titles. Lewis, in 1820, by some modifications and additions -of Bale’s list, extends the number to 284. A catalogue was also -prefixed by Baber to his reprint of Wycliffe’s New Testament (Purvey’s -amended edition) in 1810. And Dr. Vaughan (who has got but scrimp -justice at the hands of some), in his “Life and Opinions of Wycliffe,” -1828 and 1831, and in his “John de Wycliffe: a Monograph,” 1853, gave -catalogues which had the effect of setting a few others to work in -the endeavor to determine with certainty the number of the genuine -writings left by Wycliffe. This work was undertaken and prosecuted -with no little labor and critical ability by Professor Shirley; but -death at an early time arrested the progress of the work which he had -projected—the editing and publishing of “Select Works of Wycliffe.” -Men die, but the work dies not. To the third volume of “Select English -Works of John Wycliffe,” 1871, edited by Thomas Arnold, there is -prefixed a “List of MSS. of the Miscellaneous Works,” and a “Complete -Catalogue of the English Works ascribed to Wycliffe, based on that -prepared by Dr. Shirley, but including a detailed comparison with -the list of Bale and Lewis”[42] Of Dr. Lechler’s services in this as -in every other respect we do not speak: they are inestimable. The -example set by him, and by Dr. Buddensieg of Dresden, and Dr. Loserth -of Czernowitz, ought to stimulate Englishmen, and more especially the -graduates, fellows, and doctors of Oxford, to vindicate the University -against the charge so justly and repeatedly made against it, of having -treated with indifference and neglect the name and memory of one of her -most illustrious sons. It is anything but creditable to Oxford that -German scholars and princes should do the work which ought to be done -by Englishmen—and of all Englishmen by the men of Oxford. Do these -learned men know that in English literature there is a short treatise -bearing the title “The Dead Man’s Right?”[43] It is time that they -should study it, and give to it such effect as only the men of Oxford -can give, in relation to the memory of the man who asserted and -maintained, in perilous and most hazardous times, the rights of Oxford -University against those who would reduce that noble institution, that -renowned seat of learning, to the level of one of the outhouses of the -Vatican Palace or of the Pope’s privy chamber, at Avignon or at Rome. - -From the lists or catalogues of Wycliffe’s works, it is evident that -his writing was like his mind—steadily, splendidly progressive. To -the earlier period of his life belong the works on logic, psychology, -metaphysics, and generally what may be called his philosophical -writings. To the second period of his life belong his applied -philosophy in the form of his treatises on politico-ecclesiastical -questions. To the third period belong his works on scientific theology; -and to the fourth and concluding period belong his works on applied -theology, or practical and pastoral divinity. - -“The earliest work to which, so far as I know, a tolerably exact date -can be assigned, is the fragment “De dominio,” printed by Lewis, and -which belongs to the year 1366 or 1367. We may confidently place the -whole of the philosophical works, properly so called, before this date. -About the year 1367 was published the “De Dominio Divino,” preluding to -the great “Summa Theologiæ,”—the first book of which, “De Mandatis,” -appears to have been written in 1369; the seventh, the “De Ecclesia,” -in 1378; the remainder at uncertain intervals during the next five -years. The “Trialogus” and its supplement belong probably to the last -year of the Reformer’s life.”[44] - -In a letter of Archbishop Arundel, addressed to Pope John XXIII. in -1412, it is said of Wycliffe that, “In order to fulfil the measure of -his wickedness, he _invented_ the translation of the Bible into the -mother tongue.” Of this, the great and crowning work of Wycliffe’s -life, Knighton says:— - - “Christ delivered his Gospel to the clergy and - doctors of the Church, but this Master John Wycliffe - translated it out of Latin into English, and thus - laid it out more open to the laity, and to women who - could read, than it had formerly been to the most - learned of the clergy, even to those of them that had - the best understanding. In this way the Gospel-pearl - is cast abroad, and trodden under foot of swine, and - that which was before precious both to clergy and - laity, is rendered, as it were, to the common jest - of both. The jewel of the Church is turned into the - sport of the people, and what had hitherto been the - choice gift of the clergy and of divines, is made for - ever common to the laity.”[45] - -It was for this very end that the “Word of God written” might be -forever common to the people, as accessible to them as to the most -privileged orders, that Wycliffe seems at an early time in his life to -have entertained the great idea and formed the purpose of giving to his -countrymen a version of Holy Scripture in the English language. For, -although we cannot here enter into details, it would appear from the -careful, learned, and elaborate preface to the magnificent edition of -Wycliffe’s Bible by Forshall and Madden,[46] that the progressiveness -characteristic of Wycliffe’s views and work was apparent in the -translation of the Bible. With all deference to the opinions of those -who believe that man’s works spring full-formed from the human brain, -like Minerva from the head of Jupiter, there is reason for believing -that so early as 1356, or about that time, Wycliffe began his work -of translating the Scriptures, and that, with many interruptions or -intermissions, he continued to prosecute his great enterprise till -he had the joyful satisfaction of seeing the translation of the New -Testament completed in 1380. The idea had grown in his mind, and the -work grew under his hand. He could now put a copy of the Evangel into -the hands of each evangelist whom he sent forth. Up to this time he -could but furnish his poor preachers with short treatises and detached -portions of Scripture. But now he could give them the whole of the New -Testament in the language of the people of England. It was a great -gift, and it was eagerly desired by multitudes who had been perishing -for lack of knowledge. And but for the opposition of the hierarchy, the -book and the evangelist might now have had free course in England. The -work of translating the Old Testament was being prosecuted by Nicolas -Hereford, when he was cited to appear before the Archbishop. Two -MS. copies of Hereford’s translation in the Bodleian Library -“end abruptly in the book of Baruch, breaking off in the middle of a -sentence.[47] It may thence be inferred that the writer was suddenly -stopped in the execution of his work; nor is it unreasonable to -conjecture, further, that the cause of the interruption was the summons -which Hereford received to appear before the synod in 1382.” - - “The translation itself affords proof that it was - completed by a different hand, and not improbably by - Wycliffe himself. Hereford translates very literally, - and is usually careful to render the same Latin words - or phrases in an uniform manner. He never introduces - textual glosses. The style subsequent to Bar. iii. - 20 is entirely different. It is more easy, no longer - keeps to the order of the Latin, takes greater - freedom in the choice of words, and frequently admits - textual glosses. In the course of the first complete - chapter the new translator inserts no less than - nine such glosses. He does not admit prologues. The - translation of this last part of the Old Testament - corresponds with that of the New Testament, not only - in the general style, but also in the rendering of - particular words.”[48] - -Wycliffe’s work was really done when the whole Bible was published in -the English language. And although he set himself to improve, correct, -and amend his own and Hereford’s translation, yet he could now, as at -no previous time, say, “Now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace.” -Not long after this he died in peace at Lutterworth, in Leicestershire, -on the 31st of December 1384. And notwithstanding the ridicule of -all who snarl at Mr. Foxe for counting him a martyr in his calendar, -he really lived a martyr’s life, and died a martyr’s death: he lived -and died a faithful witness of the truth. If he was not in spirit a -martyr, there never was a martyr in the history of the Church; and if -his persecutors were not in spirit tyrants whose purpose was to add -Wycliffe’s name to the roll of martyrs, there never were those who -persecuted the saints unto bonds, imprisonment, and death. What else -means the decree of the Council of Constance in 1415, which not only -cursed his memory, as that of one dying an obstinate heretic, but -ordered his body (with this charitable caution, “if it may be discerned -from the bodies of other faithful people”), to be taken out of the -ground and thrown far off from any Christian burial? In obedience to -this decree—being, as Godwin says, required by the Council of Sena so -to do[49]—Richard Fleming, Bishop of Lincoln, Diocesan of Lutterworth -in 1428, sent officers to ungrave the body of Wycliffe. To Lutterworth -they come, take what was left out of the grave, and burning it, cast -the ashes into the Swift, a neighboring brook running hard by. “Thus -hath this brook conveyed his ashes into Avon, Avon into Severn, Severn -into the narrow seas, and these into the main ocean. And thus the ashes -of Wycliffe are the emblem of his doctrine, which now is dispersed all -the world over.”[50] - -With Fuller’s graphic record of the action of the servants of Bishop -Fleming of Lincoln we might conclude our review of the work of this -truly great and good man; but we cannot conclude without saying that -the decree of the Constance Council and the action of the Lincoln -bishop reveal at the same time the power of Wycliffe’s doctrines and -the impotence of the papal opposition to Wycliffe and to Lollardism. -Truth dies not: it may be burned, but, like the sacred bush on the -hillside of Horeb, it is not consumed. It may fall in the street; it -may be trodden under foot of men; it may be put into the grave; but -it is not dead,—it lives, rises again, and is free. The bonds only -are consumed; and the grave-clothes and the napkin only are left in -the sepulchre. The word itself liveth and abideth forever. It has in -it not only an eternal vitality, but also a seminal virtue. It is the -seed of the kingdom of God. Some of the books of Wycliffe were put -into the hands of John Hus in the University of Prague. Of Hus it may -be said that, like the prophet, he ate the books given to him. He so -appropriated them, not in the spirit only, but also in the letter, -that the doctrines, and even the verbal expressions, of Wycliffe, were -reproduced and proclaimed by him in Bohemia. This is demonstrated by -Dr. Loserth in his recent work, “Wycliffe and Hus.”[51] - -The story of the Gospel in Bohemia is really a record of the work -of Wycliffe in a foreign land, where he was regarded as little less -than “a fifth evangelist.” The heresies of Wycliffe, condemned by the -Council of Constance, were the Gospel for which John Hus and Jerome of -Prague died the death of martyrs. But not only so. - - “When I studied at Erfurth,” says Martin Luther, - “I found in the library of the convent a book - entitled the ‘Sermons of John Hus.’ I had a great - curiosity to know what doctrines that arch-heretic - had propagated. My astonishment at the reading of - them was incredible. I could not comprehend for what - cause they burnt so great a man, who explained the - Scriptures with so much gravity and skill. But as the - very name of Hus was held in so great abomination, - that I imagined the sky would fall and the sun be - darkened if I made honorable mention of him, I shut - the book with no little indignation. This, however, - was my comfort, that he had written this perhaps - before he fell into heresy, for I had not yet heard - what passed at the Council of Constance.”[52] - -Germany through Luther owes much to John Wycliffe. Germany acknowledges -the obligation, and through Lechler, Buddensieg, Loserth, and others, -it is offering its tribute of gratitude to the memory of the earliest -of the Reformers. For, although the fact is ignored by many, the -Reformation was but the exposition and developed application of -the doctrines of John Wycliffe. It was Shakespeare who said of the -great Lollard chief of England—Sir John Oldcastle, the good Lord -Cobham—“Oldcastle died a martyr!”[53] But it is one of the most coldly -severe and critical of historians who says:— - - “No revolution has ever been more gradually prepared - than that which separated almost one-half of Europe - from the communion of the Roman See; nor were Luther - and Zwingle any more than occasional instruments of - that change, which, had they never existed, would - at no great distance of time have been effected - under the names of some other Reformers. At the - beginning of the sixteenth century, the learned - doubtfully and with caution, the ignorant with zeal - and eagerness, were tending to depart from the faith - and rites which authority prescribed. But probably - not even Germany were so far advanced on this course - as England. Almost a hundred and fifty years before - Luther, nearly the same doctrines as he taught had - been maintained by Wycliffe, whose disciples, usually - called Lollards, lasted as a numerous though obscure - and proscribed sect, till, aided by the confluence - of foreign streams, they swelled into the Protestant - Church of England. We hear indeed little of them - during some part of the fifteenth century; for they - generally shunned persecution, and it is chiefly - through records of persecution that we learn the - existence of heretics. But immediately before the - name of Luther was known, they seem to have become - more numerous; since several persons were burned for - heresy, and others abjured their errors, in the first - years of Henry VIII.’s reign.”[54] - -Corresponding with what is stated by Hallam, is the fact that John Knox -begins his history of the Reformation in Scotland by giving, in what -he calls “Historiæ Initium,” a chapter on the history of Lollardism in -Scotland:— - - “In the scrolls of Glasgow is found mention of - one whose name is not expressed, that, in the year - of God 1422, was burnt for heresy; but what were - his opinions, or by what order he was condemned, - it appears not evidently. But our chronicles make - mention that in the days of King James the First, - about the year of God 1431, was deprehended in the - University of St. Andrews, one Paul Craw, a Bohemian, - who was accused of heresy before such as then were - called Doctors of Theology. His accusation consisted - principally that he followed _John Hus and Wycliffe - in the opinion of the Sacrament_, who denied that the - substance of bread and wine were changed by virtue - of any words, or that confession should be made to - priests, or yet prayers to saints departed.... He was - condemned to the fire, in the whilk he was consumed, - in the said city of Saint Andrews, about the time - aforewritten.” - -Proceeding with his narrative, Knox gives a picturesque description -of what occurred in Court, when no fewer than thirty persons were -summoned in 1494 by Robert Blackburn, Archbishop of Glasgow, to appear -before the King and his great council. “These,” he says, “were called -the Lollards of Kyle. They were accused of the articles following, as -we have received them forth of the register of Glasgow.” Among the -thirty-four articles charged against them are many of the doctrines so -ably expounded and maintained by Wycliffe. “By these articles, which -God of His merciful providence caused the enemies of His truth to keep -in their registers, may appear how mercifully God hath looked upon this -realm, retaining within it some spunk of His light even in the time of -greatest darkness.” The Lollards of Kyle, partly through the clemency -of the King, and partly by their own bold and ready-witted answers, so -dashed the bishop and his band out of countenance, that the greatest -part of the accusation was turned to laughter. For thirty years after -that memorable exhibition there was “almost no question for matters of -religion” till young Patrick Hamilton of gentle blood and of heroic -spirit, appeared on the scene in 1527. “With him,” says Knox, “our -history doth begin.”[55] - -“No friendly hand,” says Dr. Shirley, “has left us any even the -slightest memorial of the life and death of the great Reformer. A -spare, frail, emaciated frame, a quick temper, a conversation ‘most -innocent,’ the charm of every rank—such are the scanty but significant -fragments we glean of the personal portraiture of one who possessed, as -few ever did, the qualities which give men power over their fellows. -His enemies ascribed it to the magic of an ascetic habit; the fact -remains engraven on every line of his life.[56] His bitterest enemies -cannot refrain from involuntary tributes of admiration extorted -from them by the singular and unsullied excellence of the man whose -doctrines and doings as a reformer they detested. Like the “amiable -and famous Edward, by-named, not of his color, but of his dreaded acts -in battle, the Black Prince,”[57] Wycliffe was in nothing black save -in his dreaded doctrines and works of reformation. Apart from these, -“all tongues—the voice of souls”—awarded him the praise due to lofty -genius, exemplary virtue, and personal godliness. His heretical deeds -were the occasion of all the obloquy heaped upon his name and memory:— - - “In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds, - And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.” - -If we cannot as yet cherish the hope that, besides erecting in Oxford -some visible monument to the memory of Wycliffe, the University -should, as an example to Cambridge and to the Scottish universities, -institute a Wycliffe Lectureship for the exposition of the works of -the great Reformer, it is surely not too much to expect that Oxford -should give all possible countenance and support to the project for the -printing and the publication of Wycliffe’s unprinted and unpublished -writings. This, in the meantime, is perhaps the best tribute that can -be offered to the memory of Wycliffe. For, as Dr. Shirley said, some -nineteen years ago, “The Latin works of Wycliffe are, both historically -and theologically, by far the most important; from these alone can -Wycliffe’s theological position be understood: and it is not, perhaps, -too much to say, that no writings so important for the history of -doctrine are still buried in manuscript.”[58] These neglected, unknown, -and hitherto inaccessible works, are being printed under competent -editorship by “The Wycliffe Society.”—They have more than a mere -theological interest. They are important in their relation to the -thought which developed itself in the reformation of religion, in the -revival of learning, and in the assertion, maintenance, and defence of -constitutional liberty in England. - -For from the relation of his work to the University, to the -independence of the nation and the sovereignty of the Crown, to the -Church and to the people of England, a manifold interest must for -ever belong to the name, the life, and the work of John Wycliffe. -Corresponding with all this is the manifold obligation of the -University, the Crown, the Church, and the people of England. For -Wycliffe was the first of those self-denying and fearless men to whom -we are chiefly indebted for the overthrow of superstition, ignorance, -and despotism, and for all the privileges and blessings, political and -religious, which we enjoy. He was the first of those who cheerfully -hazarded their lives that they might achieve their purpose, which was -nothing less than the felicity of millions unborn—a felicity which -could only proceed from the knowledge and possession of the truth. -He is one of those “who boldly attacked the system of error and -corruption, though fortified by popular credulity, and who, having -forced the stronghold of superstition, and penetrated the recesses -of its temple, tore aside the veil that concealed the monstrous idol -which the world had so long ignorantly worshipped, dissolved the -spell by which the human mind was bound, and restored it to liberty! -How criminal must those be who, sitting at ease under the vines and -fig-trees planted by the labors and watered with the blood of those -patriots, discover their disesteem of the invaluable privileges -which they inherit, or their ignorance of the expense at which they -were purchased, by the most unworthy treatment of those to whom they -owe them, misrepresent their actions, calumniate their motives, and -load their memories with every species of abuse!”[59] While we look to -the men of Oxford for a thorough though tardy and late vindication -of Wycliffe’s name and services to the University and to learning, -we expect from the people of England a more effective and permanent -memorial of Wycliffe and his work than can be raised by any number of -scholars or members of the University. Wycliffe lived for God and for -the people. He taught the English people how to use the English tongue -for the expression of truth, liberty, and religion. He was the first to -give to the people of England the Bible in the English language. What a -gift was this! He was in this the pioneer of Tyndale, of Coverdale, and -of all those who have lived and labored for the diffusion of the Word -of God among their fellow-men. The British and Foreign Bible Society is -really Wycliffe’s monument. His Bible, as translated from the Vulgate, -was itself an assertion of that independence for which Wycliffe lived -and died. To him may be applied the words of Milton— - - “Servant of God, well done! well hast thou fought - The better fight; who single hast maintained - Against revolted multitudes the cause - Of truth; in word mightier than they in arms: - And for the testimony of truth hast borne - Universal reproach, far worse to bear - Than violence; for it was all thy care - To stand approv’d in sight of God, though worlds - Judged thee perverse.”[60] - —_Blackwood’s Magazine._ - - - - -CURIOSITIES OF THE BANK OF ENGLAND. - - -Considering the world-wide reputation of the Bank of England, it is -remarkable how little is generally known as to its internal working. -Standing in the very heart of the largest city in the world—a central -landmark of the great metropolis—even the busy Londoners around it -have, as a rule, only the vaguest possible knowledge of what goes on -within its walls. In truth, its functions are so many, its staff so -enormous, and their duties so varied, that many even of those who have -spent their lives in its service will tell you that, beyond their own -immediate departments, they know but little of its inner life. Its mere -history, as recorded by Mr. Francis, fills two octavo volumes. It will -be readily understood, therefore, that it would be idle to attempt -anything like a complete description of it within the compass of a -magazine article. There are, however, many points about the Bank and -it’s working which are extremely curious and interesting, and some of -these we propose briefly to describe. - -The Bank of England originated in the brain of William Paterson, a -Scotchman—better known, perhaps, as the organiser and leader of -the ill-fated Darien expedition. It commenced business in 1694, its -charter—which was in the first instance granted for eleven years -only—bearing date the 27th July of that year. This charter has been -from time to time renewed, the last renewal having taken place in -1844. The original capital of the Bank was but one million two hundred -thousand pounds, and it carried on its business in a single room in -Mercer’s Hall, with a staff of fifty-four clerks. From so small a -beginning has grown the present gigantic establishment, which covers -nearly three acres, and employs in town and country nearly nine hundred -officials. Upon the latest renewal of its charter, the Bank was divided -into two distinct departments, the Issue and the Banking. In addition -to these, the Bank has the management of the national debt. The books -of the various government funds are here kept; here all transfers are -made, and here all dividends are paid. - -In the Banking department is transacted the ordinary business of -bankers. Here other banks keep their “reserve,” and hence draw their -supplies as they require them. The Issue department is intrusted -with the circulation of the notes of the Bank, which is regulated as -follows. The Bank in 1844 was a creditor of the government to the -extent of rather over eleven million pounds, and to this amount and -four million pounds beyond, for which there is in other ways sufficient -security, the Bank is allowed to issue notes without having gold in -reserve to meet them. Beyond these fifteen million pounds, every note -issued represents gold actually in the coffers of the Bank. The total -value of the notes in the hands of the public at one time averages -about twenty-five million pounds. To these must be added other notes -to a very large amount in the hands of the Banking department, which -deposits the bulk of its reserve of gold in the Issue department, -accepting notes in exchange. - -All Bank of England notes are printed in the Bank itself. Six -printing-presses are in constant operation, the same machine printing -first the particulars of value, signature, &c., and then the number -of the note in consecutive order. The paper used is of very peculiar -texture, being at once thin, tough, and crisp; and the combination of -these qualities, together with the peculiarities of the watermark, -which is distributed over the whole surface of the paper, forms one -of the principal guarantees against imitation. The paper, which is -manufactured exclusively at one particular mill, is made in oblong -slips, allowing just enough space for the printing of two notes side by -side. The edges of the paper are left untrimmed, but, after printing, -the two notes are divided by a straight cut between them. This accounts -for the fact, which many of our readers will doubtless have noticed, -that only one edge of a Bank-note is smooth, the other three being -comparatively ragged. The printing-presses are so constructed as to -register each note printed, so that the machine itself indicates -automatically how many notes have passed through it. The average -production of notes is fifty thousand a day, and about the same number -are presented in the same time for payment. - -No note is ever issued a second time. When once it finds its way back -to the Bank to be exchanged for coin, it is immediately cancelled; and -the reader will probably be surprised to hear that the average life -of a Bank-note, or the time during which it is in actual circulation, -is not more than five or six days. The returned notes, averaging, as -we have stated, about fifty thousand a day, and representing, one day -with another, about one million pounds in value, are brought into what -is known as the Accountant’s Sorting Office. Here they are examined by -inspectors, who reject any which may be found to be counterfeit. In -such a case, the paying-in bank is debited with the amount. The notes -come in from various banks in parcels, each parcel accompanied by a -memorandum stating the number and amount of the notes contained in it. -This memorandum is marked with a certain number, and then each note in -the parcel is stamped to correspond, the stamping-machine automatically -registering how many are stamped, and consequently drawing immediate -attention to any deficiency in the number of notes as compared with -that stated in the memorandum. This done, the notes are sorted -according to number and date, and after being defaced by punching out -the letters indicating value, and tearing off the corner bearing the -signature, are passed on to the “Bank note Library,” where they are -packed in boxes, and preserved for possible future reference during -a period of five years. There are one hundred and twenty clerks -employed in this one department; and so perfect is the system of -registration, that if the number of a returned note be known, the head -of this department, by referring to his books, can ascertain in a few -minutes the date when and the banker through whom it was presented; -and if within the period of five years, can produce the note itself -for inspection. As to the “number” of a Bank-note, by the way, there -is sometimes a little misconception, many people imagining that by -quoting the bare figures on the face of a note they have done all that -is requisite for its identification. This is not the case. Bank-notes -are not numbered consecutively _ad infinitum_, but in series of one -to one hundred thousand, the different series being distinguished as -between themselves by the date, which appears in full in the body of -the note, and is further indicated, to the initiated, by the letter and -numerals prefixed to the actual number. Thus 25/0 90758 on the face of -a note indicates that the note in question is No. 90758 of the series -printed on May 21, 1883, which date appears in full in the body of -the note, 69/N in like manner indicates that the note forms part of a -series printed on February 19, 1883. In “taking the number” of a note, -therefore, either this prefix or the full date, as stated in the body -of the note, should always be included. - -The “Library” of cancelled notes—not to be confounded with the Bank -Library proper—is situated in the Bank vaults, and we are indebted to -the courtesy of the Bank-note Librarian for the following curious and -interesting statistics respecting his stock. The stock of paid notes -for five years—the period during which, as before stated, the notes -are preserved for reference—is about seventy-seven million seven -hundred and forty-five thousand in number. They fill thirteen thousand -four hundred boxes, about eighteen inches long, ten wide, and nine -deep. If the notes could be placed in a pile one upon another, they -would reach to a height of five and two-third miles. Joined end to end -they would form a ribbon twelve thousand four hundred and fifty-five -miles long, or half way round the globe; if laid so as to form a -carpet, they would very nearly cover Hyde Park. Their original value is -somewhat over seventeen hundred and fifty millions, and their weight -is about ninety-one tons. The immense extent of space necessary to -accommodate such a mass in the Bank vaults may be imagined. The place, -with its piles on piles of boxes reaching far away into dim distance, -looks like some gigantic wine-cellar or bonded warehouse. - -As each day adds, as we have seen, about fifty thousand notes to the -number, it is necessary to find some means of destroying those which -have passed their allotted term of preservation. This is done by fire, -about four hundred thousand notes being burnt at one time, in a furnace -specially constructed for that purpose. Formerly, from some peculiarity -in the ink with which the notes were printed, the cremated notes burnt -into a solid blue clinker; but the composition of the ink has been -altered, and the paper now burns to a fine gray ash. The fumes of the -burning paper are extremely dense and pungent; and to prevent any -nuisance arising from this cause, the process of cremation is carried -out at dead of night, when the city is comparatively deserted. Further, -in order to mitigate the density of the fumes, they are made to ascend -through a shower of falling water, the chimney shaft being fitted with -a special shower-bath arrangement for this purpose. - -Passing away from the necropolis of dead and buried notes, we visit the -Treasury, whence they originally issued. This is a quiet-looking room, -scarcely more imposing in appearance than the butler’s pantry in a -West-end mansion, but the modest-looking cupboards with which its walls -are lined, are gorged with hidden treasure. The possible value of the -contents of this room may be imagined from the fact that a million -of money, in notes of one thousand pounds, forms a packet only three -inches thick. The writer has had the privilege of holding such a -parcel in his hand, and for a quarter of a minute imagining himself a -millionaire—with an income of over thirty thousand per annum for life! -The same amount might occupy even less space than the above, for Mr. -Francis tells a story of a lost note for thirty thousand pounds, which, -turning up after the lapse of many years, was paid by the Bank _twice -over_! We are informed that notes of even a higher value than this have -on occasion been printed, but the highest denomination now issued is -one thousand pounds. - -In this department is kept a portion of the Bank’s stock of golden -coin, in bags of one thousand pounds each. This amount does not require -a very large bag for its accommodation, but its weight is considerable, -amounting to two hundred and fifty-eight ounces twenty pennyweights, so -that a million in gold would weigh some tons. In another room of this -department—the Weighing Office—are seen the machines for detecting -light coin. These machines are marvels of ingenious mechanism. Three or -four hundred sovereigns are laid in a long brass scoop or semi-tube, of -such a diameter as to admit them comfortably, and self-regulating to -such an incline that the coins gradually slide down by their own weight -on to one plate of a little balance placed at its lower extremity. -Across the face of this plate two little bolts make alternate thrusts, -one to the right, one to the left, but at slightly different levels. -If the coin be of full weight, the balance is held in equipoise, and -the right-hand bolt making its thrust, pushes it off the plate and down -an adjacent tube into the receptacle for full-weight coin. If, on the -other hand, the coin is ever so little “light,” the balance naturally -rises with it. The right-hand bolt makes its thrust as before, but this -time passes harmlessly _beneath_ the coin. Then comes the thrust of -the left-hand bolt, which, as we have said, is fixed at a fractionally -higher level, and pushes the coin down a tube on the opposite side, -through which it falls into the light-coin receptacle. The coins thus -condemned are afterwards dropped into another machine, which defaces -them by a cut half-way across their diameter, at the rate of two -hundred a minute. The weighing machines, of which there are sixteen, -are actuated by a small atmospheric engine in one corner of the room, -the only manual assistance required being to keep them supplied with -coins. It is said that sixty thousand sovereigns and half-sovereigns -can be weighed here in a single day. The weighing-machine in question -is the invention of Mr. Cotton, a former governor of the Bank, -and among scientific men is regarded as one of the most striking -achievements of practical mechanics. - -In the Bullion department we find another weighing-machine of a -different character, but in its way equally remarkable. It is the -first of its kind, having been designed specially for the Bank by Mr. -James Murdoch Napier, by whom it has been patented. It is used for the -purpose of weighing bullion, which is purchased in this department. -Gold is brought in in bars of about eight inches long, three wide, and -one inch thick. A bar of gold of these dimensions will weigh about two -hundred ounces, and is worth, if pure, about eight hundred pounds. -Each bar when brought in is accompanied by a memorandum of its weight. -The question of quality is determined by the process of assaying; the -weight is checked by means of the weighing-machine we have referred to. -This takes the form of an extremely massive pair of scales, working -on a beam of immense strength and solidity, and is based, so as to -be absolutely rigid, on a solid bed of concrete. The whole stands -about six feet high by three wide, and is inclosed in an air-tight -plate-glass case, a sash in which is raised when it is desired to use -the machine. The two sides of the scale are each kept permanently -loaded, the one with a single weight of three hundred and sixty ounces, -the other with a number of weights of various sizes to the same amount. -When it is desired to test the weight of a bar of gold, weights to the -amount stated in the corresponding memorandum, _less half an ounce_, -are removed from the latter scale, and the bar of gold substituted in -their place. Up to this point the beam of the scale is kept perfectly -horizontal, being maintained in that position by a mechanical break; -but now a stud is pressed, and by means of delicate machinery, actuated -by water-power, the beam is released. If the weight of the bar has been -correctly stated in the memorandum, the scale which holds it should be -exactly half an ounce in excess. This or any less excess of weight over -the three hundred and sixty ounces in the opposite scale is instantly -registered by the machine, a pointer travelling round a dial until it -indicates the proper amount. The function of the machine, however, is -limited to weighing half an ounce only. If the discrepancy between the -two scales as loaded is greater than this, or if on the other hand the -bar of gold is more than half an ounce less than the amount stated in -the memorandum, an electric bell rings by way of warning, the pointer -travels right round the dial, and returns to zero. So delicate is the -adjustment, that the weight of half a penny postage stamp—somewhat -less than half a grain—will set the hand in motion and be recorded on -the dial. - -The stock of gold in the bullion vault varies from one to three million -pounds stirling. The bars are laid side by side on small flat trucks or -barrows carrying one hundred bars each. In a glass case in this vault -is seen a portion of the war indemnity paid by King Coffee of Ashantee, -consisting of gold ornaments, a little short of standard fineness. - -One of the first reflections that strike an outsider permitted to -inspect the repository of so much treasure is, “Can all this wealth -be safe?” These heaps of precious metal, these piles of still more -precious notes, are handled by the officials in such an easy-going, -matter-of-course way, that one would almost fancy a few thousand would -scarcely be missed; and that a dishonest person had only to walk in -and help himself to as many sovereigns or hundred pound notes as his -pockets could accommodate. Such, however, is very far from being the -case. The safeguards against robbery, either by force or fraud, are -many and elaborate. At night the Bank is guarded at all accessible -points by an ample military force, which would no doubt give a good -account of any intruder rash enough to attempt to gain an entrance. -In the event of attack from without, there are sliding galleries which -can be thrust out from the roof, and which would enable a body of -sharpshooters to rake the streets in all directions. - -Few people are aware that the Bank of England contains within its walls -a graveyard, but such is nevertheless the fact. The Gordon riots in -1780, during which the Bank was attacked by a mob, called attention to -the necessity for strengthening its defences. Competent authorities -advised that an adjoining church, rejoicing in the appropriate name of -St. Christopher-le-Stocks, was in a military sense a source of danger, -and accordingly an Act of Parliament was passed to enable the directors -to purchase the church and its appurtenances. The old churchyard, -tastefully laid out, now forms what is known as the Bank “garden,” the -handsome “Court Room” or “Bank Parlor” abutting on one of its sides. -There is a magnificent lime-tree, one of the largest in London, in -the centre of the garden, and tradition states that under this tree -a former clerk of the Bank, _eight feet high_, lies buried. With -this last, though not least of the curiosities of the Bank, we must -bring the present article to a close. We had intended briefly to -have referred to sundry eventful pages of its history; but these we -are compelled, by considerations of space, to reserve for a future -paper.—_Chambers’s Journal._ - - - - -THE RYE HOUSE PLOT. - - -BY ALEXANDER CHARLES EWALD. - -Towards the close of the autumn of 1682, the discontent which the -domestic and foreign policy of the “Merry Monarch” had excited among -his subjects at last began to assume a tangible and aggressive form. -The aim of our second Charles was nothing less than to overthrow the -English constitution, to render himself free of parliamentary control, -to bias English justice, to make his lieges slaves, and to attain his -disloyal ends, if need be, by the aid of France, whose pensioner he -was. Nor had he been at this time unsuccessful in his object. In spite -of the hostility of the country party—as the opponents of the court -were styled—the Duke of York was not debarred from succession to the -throne; for, thanks to the eloquence of the brilliant Halifax, the -Exclusion Bill had been rejected. The law had also been turned into -a most potent engine of oppression by causing it to interpret, not -justice, but the wishes of the King; only such judges were appointed -as would prove obedient to the royal will, and only such juries were -summoned as might be trusted to carry out the royal behests. The -Anglican clergy rallied round the throne, and everywhere taught the -doctrine of passive obedience and the heinousness of resistance to -the divine right of kings. A secret treaty with Louis of France had -rendered Charles, by its pecuniary clauses, entirely independent of -his subjects. The disaffection of London had been crushed by its Lord -Mayor being converted to the policy of the court, and by the nomination -of the sheriffs, not at Guildhall, but at Whitehall—an interference -which made every corporation in the kingdom tremble for its stability. -For the last ten years the leaders of the country party had waged -war to the knife against this organised despotism on the part of the -monarch, yet all opposition had proved unavailing. The unscrupulous and -vindictive Shaftesbury,— - - In friendship false, implacable in hate, - Resolved to ruin or to rule the State, - -had led the attack, and endeavored in vain to stir up the nation -against its sovereign; then, mortified at the failure of his efforts, -had withdrawn to the Continent, and there perished a victim to -disappointed revenge and dissatisfied ambition. The amiable Lord -William Russell had, in his place in Parliament, openly opposed the -court, and warned the country of the dangers that would ensue should -the arbitrary government of Charles be longer tolerated. Algernon -Sydney, Essex, and Hampden had followed suit; but their teaching -and invective had been delivered to no purpose; the power and the -bribes of the throne, acting upon the natural servility of man, had -been too puissant and convincing not to be effectual in crushing all -resistance. Victory, therefore, at present rested with the King, not -with his opponents. - -And now it was that this disaffection, which had so long been futile -in its efforts at revolt, began to trouble the minds of men of a far -different character from the recognised chiefs of the country party. At -that time there were certain desperadoes haunting the taverns of the -east of London, who, after much secret council and drinking together, -had come to the conclusion that the simplest solution of the national -difficulty was to murder the King and his brother, the Duke of York, -and then—but not till then—the throne being vacant, to consider -what form of constitution should be adopted. The leader of the band -was one whose name will live as long as the great satire of Dryden is -remembered. Anglican priest, Dissenting divine, political agitator, -spy informer, as mischievous as he was treacherous, Robert Ferguson -belonged to that class which every conspiracy seems to enroll; foremost -in advice, last in action, brave when there is no danger, but the first -to fly and purchase safety by a base and compromising confession. On -this occasion he was the treasurer of the conspirators,— - - Judas that keeps the rebels’ pension-purse; - Judas that pays the treason-writer’s fee; - Judas that well deserves his namesake’s tree. - -The rest of the crew call for no special mention. Among the more -prominent we find Josiah Keeling, a citizen and salter of London, -who was deep in the counsels of the plotters, and who repaid their -confidence by informing the Government, at the first sign of peril, of -what had been discussed and planned; Colonel Walcot, an old officer -of Cromwell; Colonel Romsey, a soldier of fortune who had fought with -distinction in Portugal; Sir Thomas Armstrong, “a debauched atheistical -bravo;” Robert West, a barrister in good practice; Thomas Shepherd, a -wine merchant; Richard Rumbald, an old officer in Cromwell’s army, but -at this time a maltster; Richard Goodenough, who had been under-sheriff -of London; John Ayloffe, a lawyer, the very man who, on one occasion, -to show how complete was the vassalage of England to France, had placed -a wooden shoe in the chair of the Speaker of the House of Commons; and -Ford, Lord Grey of Wark, who had brought himself conspicuously before -the public by debauching his wife’s sister. Added to this list were -barristers, soldiers of fortune, bankrupt traders, and the men who, -having nothing to lose and everything to gain, look upon agitation and -conspiracy as a form of industry likely to lead to solid advantages. -Such was the reckless band which met to “amend the constitution,” -and “restore our Protestantism,” during the quiet hours of many an -autumn evening, in the parlors of the Sun Tavern “behind the Royal -Exchange,” the Horseshoe Tavern “on Tower Hill,” the Mitre Tavern -“within Aldgate,” the Salutation “in Lombard Street,” the Dolphin -“behind Bartholomew Lane,” and in other well-known hostels. The only -two toasts permitted at the gatherings were “To the man who first draws -his sword in defence of the Protestant religion against Popery and -slavery,” and “To the confusion of the two brothers at Whitehall.” In -order to prevent their conversation being overheard by any inquisitive -stranger, the conspirators adopted a peculiar language which they -alone could understand. A blunderbuss was a “swan’s quill,” a musket -“a goose-quill,” pistols “crow-quills,” powder and bullets, “ink and -sand;” Charles was either “the churchwarden at Whitehall,” or “a -blackbird;” whilst James, Duke of York, was “a goldfinch.” The object -of these meetings was at last decided upon; it was resolved that the -King and his brother should be assassinated, or, in the slang employed -by the plotters, “a deed of bargain and sale should be executed to bar -both him in possession and him in remainder.”[61] - -This resolution carried, the next question which came up for settlement -was how the design should be accomplished. Much discussion ensued, but -after frequent deliberations a scheme of action was drawn up. It was -known that the King, on his return from racing at Newmarket, would -have to pass the farm of Richard Rumbald, called the Rye House. This -farm was situated in a prettily timbered part of Hertfordshire, about -eighteen miles from London, and derived its name from the Rye, a large -meadow adjoining the holding. Close to this paddock ran the by-road -from Bishop’s Stortford to Hoddesdon, which was constantly used by -Charles and his brother when they drove to or from Newmarket. Thus the -royal couple, on such occasions, would fall within easy pistol-shot of -any assailant secreted within the farm. The Rye House, from the nature -of its situation, also seemed to favor conspiracy. It was an old strong -building, standing alone, and encompassed with a moat; towards the -garden it was surrounded by high walls “so that twenty men might easily -defend it for some time against five hundred.” From a lofty tower in -the house an extensive view was commanded; “hence all who go or come -may be seen both ways for more than a mile’s distance.” In approaching -the farm, when driving from Newmarket to London, it was necessary to -cross a narrow causeway, at the end of which was a toll-gate; “which -having entered, you go through a yard and a little field, and at the -end of that, through another gate, you pass into a narrow lane, where -two coaches could not go abreast.” On the left hand of this lane was -a thick hedge, whilst on the right stood a low, long building used -for corn chambers and stables, with several doors and windows looking -into the road. “When you are past the long building you go by the moat -and the garden wall: that is very strong, and has divers holes in it, -through which a great many men might shoot.” Along by the moat and -wall the road continued to the river Ware, which had to be crossed by -a bridge; a little lower down another bridge, spanning the New River, -had to be traversed; “in both which passes a few men may oppose great -numbers.” Behind the long building was an outer courtyard, into which a -considerable body of horse and foot could be drawn up unperceived from -the road, “whence they might easily issue out at the same time into -each end of the narrow lane.”[62] - -The Rye House, affording such excellent opportunities, was accordingly -fixed upon as the rendezvous for “those who were to be actors in the -fact.” Arms and ammunition, covered with oysters, were to be taken -up the river Ware by watermen in the secret of the conspiracy, and -landed at the farm; men were to ride down from London at night in small -detachments, so as to escape observation, and then hide themselves in -the outbuildings around the holding; the servants of the farm, on the -day appointed for the “taking off” of the King and his brother, were to -be sent out of the way and despatched to market; whilst the anything -but hen-pecked maltster promised, when the critical moment came, “to -lock Mrs. Rumbald upstairs.”[63] So far all was satisfactorily arranged -as to the assembling of the conspirators. The next question that had -to be determined was as to the execution of the infamous design. This -was soon arranged. The plotters had ascertained the exact hour the -King and the Duke of York were to quit Newmarket; a brief calculation -was sufficient for them therefore to arrive at the hour when the royal -coach would be driven past the road running under the windows of the -Rye House; still, to make matters more sure, a couple of watchers -were to be stationed in the tower of the farm, and give the signal -when the quarry was in view. Upon the approach of the coach with its -attendant equerries, the men especially selected for the immediate work -of assassination were to steal out of their cover and hide themselves -behind the wall which ran along the road; the wall was to be provided -with convenient loopholes, and the conspirators were to stand with -their muskets ready. “When his Majesty’s coach should come over -against the wall, three or four of those behind it were to shoot at the -postilion and the horses; if the horses should not drop then, there -were to be two men with an empty cart in the lane near the place, who -in the habit of laborers should run the cart athwart the lane and so -stop the horses. Besides those that were to shoot the postilion and -the horses, there were several appointed to shoot into the coach where -his Majesty was to be, and others to shoot at the guards that should -be attending the coach.” The fell work accomplished, the farm with -its outbuildings was to be at once vacated, the conspirators were to -jump into their saddles, and make their way to London by the Hackney -Marshes as fast as their horses could lay to the ground. If this plan -was adopted, it was hoped “they might get to London as soon as the news -could.”[64] - -Still the murder of Charles and his brother was only the beginning -of the end. The death of the King was to be the signal for a general -rising. The city and suburbs were to be divided into twenty districts, -with a captain and eight lieutenants at the head of each district; -the men to be armed and ready at an hour’s notice for any raid that -might be commanded. The sum of twenty thousand pounds, which had been -subscribed by the disaffected, was to be distributed among the captains -to expend as they thought best. The night before the return of the King -from Newmarket, a body composed of two thousand men, drawn from these -several districts, were to be secreted in empty houses, “as near the -several gates of the city and other convenient posts as could be; the -men were to be got into those houses and acquainted with the plot to -take off the King at Rye House; such as refused should be clapt into -the cellars, and the rest sally out at the most convenient hour, and -seize and shut up the gates.[65] - -The moment the revolt had broken out the different captains were to -muster their men and march them to the several places of rendezvous -fixed upon; some were to be stationed in St. James’s Square, others -in Covent Garden, others again in Southwark, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, -and the Royal Exchange, whilst those named at Moorfields were to -take possession of the arms in the Artillery Ground. A large body -of cavalry was, at the same time, to be on the alert and scour the -streets, so as to prevent the King’s party from embodying or the Horse -Guards from doing their duty. The bridges over the Thames were to be -secured, and fagots taken into the narrow streets around Eastcheap for -purposes of conflagration, if necessary.[66] All these measures appeared -comparatively easy of execution to the conspirators; one detail in -the enterprise, however, seems greatly to have perplexed them. As -long as the Tower was in the hands of the King’s guards, any rise in -the city might prove a failure. To obtain possession of the Tower was -therefore one of the most prominent features in the discussions held at -the various hostels which the conspirators frequented. Some suggested -that fagots should be heaped about the gates of the building at dead -of night, and then set on fire; others that it should be bombarded -from the Thames; whilst a third proposed that men should be lodged -in Thames Street, and secretly fall upon the guard. “Several ways,” -witnesses Robert West,[67] “were proposed to surprise and take the Tower -of London. One was to send ten or twelve men armed with pistols, pocket -daggers and pocket blunderbusses into the Tower under the pretence of -seeing the armory; another number should go to see the lions, who, by -reason of their not going into the inner gate, were not to have their -swords taken from them, that the persons who went to see the armory -should return into the tavern just within the gate, and there eat and -drink till the time for the attempt was come, that some persons should -come in a mourning coach, or some gentleman’s coach to be borrowed for -this occasion under pretence of making a visit to some of the lords in -the Tower; and just within the gate some of the persons issuing out of -the tavern should kill one of the horses and overturn the coach, so -as the gate could not be shut; and the rest of the persons within and -those who went to see the lions should set upon the guards, that upon a -signal of the coach driving down a party of men (lodged in empty houses -near the Tower) should be ready to rush out, and upon the noise of the -first shot immediately run down to the gate and break in; this way, if -at all put in execution, was to be in the daytime about two o’clock, -because after dinner the officers are usually dispersed or engaged in -drinking, and the soldiers loitering from their arms.” - -Another suggestion was “that several men should enter actions against -one another in St. Catherine’s Court, held for the Tower liberty within -the Tower, and that at the court day, at which time great liberty -is allowed to all persons to come in, a party of men should go as -plaintiffs and defendants, and witnesses who should come in under -pretence of curiosity, and being seconded by certain stout fellows -working as laborers in the Tower, should attempt the surprise.”[68] -It would, however, appear that all these proposals, after full -consideration, were deemed impracticable, for we learn that no definite -decision was arrived at, but the capture of the Tower was left to the -chapter of accidents. The first step, said the plotters, was to begin -the revolt; then events, at present unforeseen, would spring up and -favor the development of the insurrection. “Only let the football be -dropped,” said one, “and there would be plenty to give it a kick.”[69] - -The King and his brother shot down, and the city in the hands of the -conspirators, punishment was then swiftly to overtake those who had -favored the past policy of Charles. The late Lord Mayor of London, -who had specially shown himself the creature of the court in willing -to yield the charter of the corporation, was to be killed. A similar -fate was to befall the existing Lord Mayor, also guilty of the same -subservience; with this addition, that after death “his skin should -be flayed off and stuffed and hung up in Guildhall, as one who had -betrayed the rights and privileges of the city.” The office of chief -magistrate of the city thus vacant, it was to be filled by one Alderman -Cornish; should he refuse to accept the dignity, he was to be “knocked -on the head.” Certain members of the corporation, who “had behaved -themselves like trimmers, and neglected to repeal several by-laws,” -were to be forced to appear publicly and admit the fact: in the event -of their declining to be thus humiliated, they also were to be “knocked -on the head.” The civic authorities chastened by this process of -correction applied to the cranium, the bench was next to fall under -the ire of the plotters. All such judges as had been guilty of passing -arbitrary judgments, and of identifying the law with the royal will, -were to be brought to trial, “and their skins stuffed and hung up in -Westminster Hall.” Then came the turn of the ecclesiastics; in the -vicious hour of mob rule the Church is always one of the first and -greatest sufferers. On this occasion “bishops, deans, and chapters were -to be wholly laid aside,” their lands confiscated, and such sums as it -was the custom to apply to educational purposes were to be appropriated -“to public uses in ease of the people from taxes.” Men who had made -themselves unpopular during the late Parliament as greedy pensioners -of the Crown were to be “brought to trial and death, and their skins -stuffed and then hung up in the Parliament House as betrayers of the -people and of the trust.” It was also thought “convenient” that certain -Ministers of State, such as my Lord Halifax, and my Lord Hyde, should -be “taken off.” To complete the programme, should funds be lacking, a -raid was to be made upon the city magnates, for, said these advocates -of communism, “there was money and plate enough among the bankers and -goldsmiths.” This scheme of revenge and spoliation was to be rigidly -carried out; and those to whom it was entrusted were to fulfil it as -they would “obey the commandments.”[70] - -The insurrection once an accomplished fact, and the prerogative of the -Crown, with all its attendant evils, overthrown, the reforms which had -inspired the movement were immediately to be put in force. The House -of Commons was no longer to be the creature of the throne, but of the -nation. The people were to meet annually at a certain time to choose -members of Parliament “without any writ or particular direction to do -so.” The Parliament thus chosen was to assemble for a stated time; -nor was it to be dissolved, prorogued, or adjourned except by its own -consent. Parliament was to consist of an upper and lower House; but -“only such nobility should be hereditary as were assisting in this -design; the rest should only be for life, and upon their death the -House of Lords should be supplied from time to time with new ones -out of the House of Commons.” To Parliament should be entrusted “the -nomination, if not the election, of all judges, sheriffs, justices of -the peace, and other greater or lesser offices, civil or military.” -Acts passed by both Houses of Parliament should be a perpetual law, -without any necessity for the sanction of the Crown. A council -selected from the Lords and Commons were to act as the advisers of the -sovereign. The militia were to be in the hands of the people. Every -county was to choose its own sheriffs. Parliament was to be held once -a year, and to sit as long as it had anything to do. All peers who had -acted contrary to the interest of the people were to be degraded. In -matters of religion complete toleration was to be accorded to everyone. -England was to be a free port, and all foreigners who willed it should -be naturalized. Finally, the only imports to be levied were the excise -and land taxes.[71] - -The example set by London in rising against the despotism of the Crown -was to be followed by the rest of the country. The Earl of Argyll -agreed first for thirty thousand, then for ten thousand pounds, “to -stir the Scots,” who were hotly in favor of revolt, “though they had -nothing but their claws to fight with rather than endure what they -did.” In the west of England, Bristol, Taunton, and Exeter were full -of agents of the disaffected; whilst in the north, Chester, York, and -Newcastle were ready at a moment’s notice to act in union with London. -In the south, Portsmouth was the only town as yet which had voted -in favor of the plot. The east of England was quiet. It was agreed -that upon the death of Charles his illegitimate son, the Duke of -Monmouth, should be crowned king, but owing to the jealousy of the -council appointed to curb the prerogative, and to the measures of the -reformers, it was said that the royal bastard would be more a “Duke of -Venice” than an English monarch.[72] - -Whilst these schemes were being fashioned within the parlors of the -“Dolphin,” the “Rising Sun,” and the rest of the City taverns, a -very different order of men were at the same time deliberating how -to pull the nation out of the slough of despotism into which it had -been plunged. Upon the death of Shaftesbury, who had been during -the last years of his life the most prominent of the foes of the -court, especially of the Duke of York, and the most potent among the -disaffected in the city of London, the leaders of the Whig party, -aware of the danger which menaced them from “froward sheriffs, willing -juries, mercenary judges, and bold witnesses,” determined not to let -the cause which Shaftesbury had advocated fall to the ground. They -held frequent meetings at different places of rendezvous, and formed -themselves into a select committee, which was known by the name of -the “Council of Six.” The members of this council were the Duke of -Monmouth, who was intriguing for the crown, Lord Essex, Algernon -Sydney, Lord William Russell, Lord Howard, and young Hampden, the -grandson of the opponent of ship-money. What the deliberations of this -council were it is now difficult to ascertain, owing to the prejudiced -sources from which information had to be derived; the official accounts -of the plot, drawn up at the request of the King by Ford, Lord Grey, -and by Sprat, the servile Bishop of Rochester, are not to be implicitly -believed in; nor is the evidence of the witnesses produced by the Crown -at the trials of Sydney and Russell a whit more trustworthy. There can -be no doubt, however, that consultations were frequently held among -the Six as to the best course to pursue for resisting a Government -which aimed at nothing less than arbitrary power. If we are to credit -the men who sold their testimony to the Crown, and the men who -purchased life by turning King’s evidence, the aim of the Council was -to organise an insurrection all over the country, and with the help -of the discontented Presbyterians in Scotland to put an end to the -tyranny of Charles and his Popish brother. What was the exact extent -of their designs we know not, but in all probability the statement by -Lady William Russell is not far from the truth. “There was,” said her -ladyship, “much talk about a general rising, but it only amounted to -loose discourse, or at most embryos that never came to anything.” - -Nor have we, though the testimony is partial, much reason to doubt the -assertion. Considering the condition of England at that time, and the -conflicting views of the Six who constituted the council, it would have -been difficult for any decided and unanimous scheme of action to have -been prepared. Though the conduct of Charles had caused much discontent -and distress, yet the nation at large felt itself powerless to oppose -the evil. The Whigs were in a minority, whilst the Royalists were a -most formidable party, in whose hands were all the military and naval -resources of the kingdom. To levy war upon the Merry Monarch, as had -forty years before been levied upon his father, was a scheme which bore -failure on its very face, and could not have been seriously entertained -by keen and cautious men like Russell or Sydney. The Six in all -probability contented themselves with merely forming estimates of the -strength of their followers, and with knitting together a confederacy -which absolute necessity might call into action. We must also remember -that the members of the Council were not in such harmony with each -other as to render it probable that they had fixed upon any distinct -plan of rebellion. Monmouth was in favor of a monarchy with himself -as monarch. Algernon Sydney had no other object before him but the -realisation of his cherished idea of a republic, and frankly declared -that it was indifferent to him whether James Duke of York or James Duke -of Monmouth was on the throne. Essex was very much the same way of -thinking as Sydney. Russell and Hampden wished for the exclusion of -the Duke of York, as a Papist, from the throne, the redress of certain -grievances, and the return of the Constitution within its ancient -lines; whilst Howard, the falsest and most mercenary of men, was -ready to vote for any change of government which could be harmlessly -effected, and by which his own interests would not be forgotten. Many -years after the execution of her husband, Lady William Russell said, -with reference to these men and the measures they proposed, that she -was convinced it was but talk, “and ’tis possible that talk going so -far as to consider if a remedy to suppress evils might be sought, how -it could be found.” - -To return to the Rye House plotters. We are told by those given to -speculation and organisation that in all calculations a large allowance -should be made for that which upsets most plans—the unforeseen. On -this occasion the conspirators were so sanguine of their scheme as -never to imagine it might be put to nought by pure accident. The farm -had been engaged, the men instructed, the necessary hiding-places -prepared, and all things were ready for the murderous deed. Suddenly -the unforeseen occurred, and all the careful measures of the would-be -regicides were rendered abortive. Owing to his house having caught -fire, Charles was obliged to leave Newmarket eight days earlier than -he had intended, and thus, thanks to this happy conflagration, passed -unscathed by the Rye House, then completely deserted; his Majesty was -comfortably ensconced at Whitehall, toying with his mistresses and -sorting their bonbons, whilst his enemies, unconscious of his escape, -were congratulating themselves that in another week their work would be -done, and their victim fall an easy prey to their designs. - -And now the result ensued which invariably attends upon treason which -has failed and which fears detection. It was an age when plots were -freely concocted against the Crown and those in supreme authority, yet, -often as conspiracies were entered into, there were always witnesses -ready to come forward and swear away the lives of their former -accomplices, to divulge what they had pledged themselves to keep -secret, and if need be to follow in every detail the example of the -biggest scoundrel of the seventeenth century, Doctor Titus Oates of -Salamanca. Among the minor persons engaged in the Rye House plot -was, as we have said, Josiah Keeling; he was now fearful of the fate -which might befall him should the authorities at Whitehall get wind -of the past deliberations, and accordingly with that prudence which -characterised him he was determined to be first in the field to make -a clean breast of all that had been planned and suggested. First he -went to Lord Dartmouth, of the Privy Council, and told his tale, and -then was referred by that statesman to his colleague, Mr. Secretary -Jenkins. Jenkins took down the deposition of the man, but said that -unless the evidence was supported by another witness, no investigation -of the matter could be proceeded with. Keeling was, however, equal to -the occasion, and induced his brother John, a turner in Blackfriars, -to corroborate his statements. The plot now authenticated by the two -requisite witnesses, the Secretary of State thought it his duty to -communicate the affair to the rest of the advisers of the Crown. It -appears, however, that a few days after his confession the conscience -of the younger brother, John Keeling, pricked him, and he secretly -availed himself of the first opportunity to inform Richard Goodenough -that the plot had been discovered by the Government, and advised all -who had been engaged in it to fly beyond sea. - -This news coming to the ears of Colonel Romsey and Robert West, who -were bosom friends, the two, unconscious of the revelations of the -Keelings, thought it now prudent to save their own skins by informing -ministers of all that had occurred, and, indeed, to make their story -the more palatable to the Government, of a little more than had -occurred. Accordingly they wended their way to Whitehall, and there -told how the house at Rye had been offered them by Rumbald, the -maltster; how at this house forty men well armed and mounted, commanded -in two divisions by Romsey and Walcot, were to assemble; and how on the -return of the King from Newmarket, Romsey with his division was to stop -the coach, and murder Charles and his brother, whilst Walcot was to -busy himself in engaging with the guards. So far the narrative of the -informers tallied with the confessions of the Keelings. But Romsey -and West, aware how hateful Lord William Russell, Algernon Sydney, -and the rest of the cabal were to the Government, by their open -opposition to the home and foreign policy of the court, essayed to -give the impression that the Council of Six were also implicated in -the detestable designs of the Rye House plotters.[73] When unscrupulous -men in supreme power are anxious to gratify their animosity, any -evidence calculated to bring foes within reach is acceptable. The hints -of Romsey and West were sufficient for the purpose, and orders were -instantly issued by the Secretaries of State for the arrest of the -Six. The first victim was Lord William, who was at once taken before -the council for examination; but as he denied all the charges brought -against him, he was forthwith sent to the Tower. Algernon Sydney next -followed. He had been seized whilst at his lodgings, and all his papers -sealed and secured by a messenger. Once before the council, he answered -a few questions, “respectfully and without deceit,” but his examination -was brief, for on his refusal to reply to certain queries put to him, -he also was despatched to the Tower. Monmouth, having received timely -warning, had placed the North Sea between him and the court. Ford, Lord -Grey, had been brought before the council, had been examined and sent -to the Tower, but managing to bribe his guards, had escaped. Lord Essex -and Hampden were imprisoned: shortly after his confinement, Essex, who -was subject to constitutional melancholy, committed suicide by cutting -his throat. Lord Howard was still at large, protesting that there was -no plot, and that he had never heard of any. Orders were, however, -issued for his arrest, and when the officers came to his house, they -found him secreted up the chimney in one of his rooms. As Keeling had -informed against the Rye House plotters, so Lord Howard now informed -against the Six. Weeping at the fact that he was a prisoner, he -promised to reveal all; his revelations were considered so satisfactory -that within a few days after their being taken down by the council, -both Lord William Russell and Algernon Sydney were put upon their trial -for high treason. - -Russell was the first to stand at the bar. It appears that one evening -he had been present at the house of Thomas Shepherd in Abchurch Lane, -where the Rye House conspirators were occasionally in the habit of -meeting and discussing their plans. He had gone thither to taste -some wine. “It was the greatest accident in the world I was there,” -said Russell at his trial, “and when I saw that company was there I -would have been gone again. I came there to speak with Mr. Shepherd, -for I was just come to town.” His excuse was raised in vain. Romsey, -Shepherd, and Howard were playing into the hands of the Crown, and -each did his best by hard swearing and false testimony to make the -prisoner’s conviction certain. The gallant colonel asserted that he had -seen his lordship at the house of Shepherd, where discourse was being -held by the cabal of conspirators as to surprising the King’s guards -and creating an insurrection throughout the country. Thomas Shepherd -next followed, and gave very much the same evidence as Romsey—that -his house in Abchurch Lane was let as a place of rendezvous for the -disaffected; that the substance of the discourse of those who met -there was how to surprise the guards and organise a rising; that two -meetings were held at his house, and that he believed the prisoner -attended both, but that he was certainly at the meeting when they -talked of seizing the guards. Then Lord Howard was called as a witness. -He said that he was one of the Six, and had attended the meetings at -the house of Shepherd; at such meetings it had been agreed to begin -the insurrection in the country before raising the city, and there had -also been some talk of dealing with the discontented Scotch; at these -deliberations no question was put or vote collected, and he of course -concluded by the presence of Lord William that the prisoner gave his -consent like the rest to the designs of the cabal. - -In his defence Russell denied that he ever had any intention against -the life of the King; he was ignorant of the proceedings of the Rye -House plotters, and his mixing with the conspirators on the sole -occasion he had visited Shepherd at Abchurch Lane was purely due to -accident. He had gone thither about some wine. He did not admit that -he had listened to any talk as to the possibility of creating an -insurrection; but even had he made such an admission, talk of that -nature could not be construed into treason, for by a special statute -(the old statute of treasons) passed in the reign of Edward III., -“a design to levy war is not treason;” besides, such talk had not -been acted upon; they had met to consult, but they acted nothing in -pursuance of that consulting. The attorney-general held a different -view, and asserted it had often been determined that to prepare forces -to fight against the King was a design within the statute of Edward -III. to kill the King. The presiding judge, as a creature of the court, -was, of course, of the same opinion; he summed up the evidence, deeming -it unfavorable to the prisoner; and the jury, basing their verdict upon -the tone of the bench, brought in a sentence of guilty of high treason. -In spite of every effort that affection could inspire and interest -advocate, Lord William Russell ended his days on the scaffold. “That -which is most certain in the affair is,” writes Charles James Fox in -his history of James II., “that Russell had committed no overt act -indicating the imagining the King’s death even according to the most -strained construction of the statute of Edward III.; much less was -any such act legally proved against him; and the conspiring to levy -war was not treason, except by a recent statute of Charles II., the -prosecutions upon which were expressly limited to a certain time which -in these cases had elapsed; so that it is impossible not to assent to -the opinion of those who have ever stigmatised the condemnation and -execution of Russell as a most flagrant violation of law and justice.” - -The same measure was now meted out to Algernon Sydney as had been -dealt to Russell. In the eyes of the bench, conspiring to levy war and -conspiring against the King’s life were considered one and the same -thing. It was in vain that Sydney asserted that he had not conspired -to the death of the King, that he had not levied war, and that he had -not written anything to stir up the people against the King. It was -in vain that even the Rye House plotters had to confess they knew -nothing of him, and had never seen him at the different meetings. -Canting Nadab, however—as Dryden, in his immortal satire, calls Lord -Howard—was there, ready to swear away a colleague’s life or do any -other dirty trick provided his own skin and estate were not forfeited -for past misdeeds; his evidence was the chief trump card on which the -court relied to score the game. Accordingly his lordship began his -testimony by relating what had passed at the meetings of the Six, as -to the best means for defending the public interest from invasion, -and the advisability of the rising breaking out first in the country -instead of in the city. He also stated that it was the special province -of Algernon Sydney to deal with the malcontent Scots, and had carried -out this task through the agency of one Aaron Smith, who had gone north -and been provided with funds for the purpose. This assertion, though -Howard candidly said he only spoke from hearsay, was deemed sufficient -by the advisers of the Crown to place Sydney’s head in jeopardy. As -the law, however, demanded that in all trials for high treason there -should be _two_ witnesses against the prisoner before sentence could -be passed, and as no other witness had the baseness to act the part so -well played by Lord Howard, it was necessary for the court to resort -to some expedient which would sufficiently answer its purpose of -convicting Sydney. The Court was equal to the emergency. Search was -made among Sydney’s papers, and it was discovered that he had written -a treatise—his famous discourse on Government—which particularly -discussed the paramount authority of the people and the legality of -resisting an oppressive Government. A few isolated passages of the work -were read here and there, the extracts given were garbled, and, thanks -to the coloring of the prosecution, the case against the prisoner -looked black indeed. Entering upon his defence, Sydney, like Russell, -denied that he had ever conspired to the death of Charles; nor was he a -friend of Monmouth, with whom he had spoken but three times in his -life: he objected to the evidence of Howard, which was based upon -hearsay, but if such testimony were true, he was but one witness, -and the law required two. As for regarding a mangled portion of his -treatise as a second witness, it was iniquitous. “Should a man,” he -cried, “be indicted for treason for scraps of papers, innocent in -themselves, but when pieced and patched with Lord Howard’s story, -made a contrivance to kill the King? Let them not pick out extracts, -but read the work as a whole. If they took Scripture to pieces, they -could make all the penmen of the Scripture blasphemous. They might -accuse David of saying there is no God; the evangelists of saying that -Christ was a blasphemer and seducer, and of the apostles that they -were drunk.” Then he ended by denying that he had any connection with -the malcontents in Scotland. “I have not sent myself,” he said, “nor -written a letter into Scotland ever since 1659; nor do I know one man -in Scotland to whom I can write, or from whom I ever received one.” -He refuted the charges brought against him in vain. The notorious -Jeffries was now the presiding judge, and never was summing up from the -bench more culpably partial or more flagrantly at variance with the -clauses of the judicial oath. “I look upon the meetings of the Six,” -said Jeffries to the jury, “and the meetings of the Rye House plotters -as having one and the same end in view; I place implicit faith in the -evidence of Howard; I deny that it is necessary that there shall be -two witnesses to convict a prisoner of high treason; and as for the -treatise of Sydney, I declare it is sufficient to condemn the author as -being guilty of compassing and imagining the death of the King.” Upon -the jury retiring to consider their verdict, Jeffries sternly informed -them that he had explained the law, and that they were bound to accept -his interpretation of it. Thus left without any option in the matter, -the jury returned at the end of half an hour into court, and brought -in a verdict of guilty. After a brief confinement. Algernon Sydney was -beheaded on Tower Hill, Dec. 7, 1683. - -Thus ended one of the most iniquitous and unjust trials that the annals -of justice ever had to record. “The proceedings in the case of Algernon -Sydney,” writes Fox, “were most detestable. The production of papers -containing speculative opinions upon government and liberty, written -long before, and perhaps never intended to be published, together -with the use made of those papers in considering them as a substitute -for the second witness to the overt act, exhibited such a compound of -wickedness and nonsense as is hardly to be paralleled in the history -of judicial tyranny. But the validity of pretences was little attended -to at that time in the case of a person whom the court had devoted -to destruction; and upon evidence such as has been stated was this -great and excellent man condemned to die.” Upon the accession of “the -Deliverer” to the throne, an Act was passed annulling and making void -the attainder of Algernon Sydney on account of its having been obtained -“without sufficient legal evidence of any treason committed by him,” -and “by a partial and unjust construction of the statute declaring -what was his treason.” The fate of the Rye House conspirators was very -various. Some fled never to return, and were outlawed like Ferguson -and Goodenough; others confessed, and were pardoned like Romsey; -whilst a third offered in vain to purchase life by turning informers, -as was the case with Walcot and Armstrong. Two years later those who -had been outlawed, and were living in exile, again tried their hand at -insurrection by aiding Monmouth in his revolt.—_Gentleman’s Magazine._ - - - - -MR. ARNOLD’S LAY SERMON. - - -Mr. Arnold’s lay sermon to “the sacrificed classes” at Whitechapel -contrasts doubly with the pulpit sermons which we too often hear. It -is real where these sermons are unreal, and frankly unreal where these -sermons are real. It does honestly warn the people to whom it was -addressed, of the special danger to which “the sacrificed classes” are -exposed, whenever they in their turn get the upper-hand, the danger of -simply turning the tables on the great possessing and aspiring classes. -“If the sacrificed classes,” he said, “under the influence of hatred, -cupidity, desire of change, destroy, in order to possess and enjoy in -their turn, their work, too, will be idolatrous, and the old work will -continue to stand for the present, or at any rate their new work will -not take its place.” It must be work done in a new spirit, not in the -spirit of hatred or cupidity, or eagerness to enjoy and appropriate -the privileges of others, which can alone stand the test of time and -judgment. So far, Mr. Arnold was much more real than too many of our -clerical preachers. He warned his hearers against a temptation which -he knew would be stirring constantly in their hearts, and not against -abstract temptations which he had no reason to think would have any -special significance to any of his audience. - -On the other hand, if he were more real in what was addressed to his -particular audience than pulpit-preachers often are, he resorted once -more, with his usual hardened indifference to the meaning of words -and the principles of true literature, to that practice of debasing -the coinage of religious language, and using great sayings in a new -and washed-out sense of his own, of which pulpit-preachers are seldom -guilty. This practice of Mr. Arnold’s is the only great set-off against -the brilliant services he has rendered to English literature, but -it is one which we should not find it easy to condemn too strongly. -Every one knows how, in various books of his, Mr. Arnold has tried -to “verify” the teaching of the Bible, while depriving the name of -God of all personal meaning; to verify the Gospel of Christ, while -denying that Christ had any message to us from a world beyond our own; -and even,—wildest enterprise of all,—so to rationalise the strictly -theological language of St. John as to rob it of all its theological -significance. Well, we do not charge this offence on Mr. Arnold as in -any sense whatever an attempt to play fast-and-loose with words; for he -has again and again confessed to all the world, with the explicitness -and vigor which are natural to him, the precise drift of his -enterprise. But we do charge it on Mr. Arnold as in the highest -possible sense a great literary misdemeanor, that he has lent his -high authority to the attempt to give to a great literature a pallid, -faded, and artificial complexion, though, with his view of it, his -duty obviously was to declare boldly that that literature teaches -what is, in his opinion, false and superstitious, and deserves our -admiration only as representing a singularly grand, though obsolete, -stage in man’s development. Mr. Arnold is as frank and honest as the -day. But frank and honest as he is, his authority is not the less lent -to a non-natural rendering of Scripture infinitely more intolerable -than that non-natural interpretation of the Thirty-nine Articles -which once brought down the wrath of the world of Protestants on the -author of “Tract 90.” In this Whitechapel lecture Mr. Arnold tells his -hearers that in the “preternatural and miraculous aspect” which the -popular Christianity assumes Christianity is not solid or verifiable, -but that there is another aspect of Christianity which is solid and -verifiable, which aspect of it makes no appeal to a preternatural -[_i. e._, supernatural] world at all. Then he goes on, after eulogising -Mr. Watts’s pictures,—of one of which a great mosaic has been set up -in Whitechapel as a memorial of Mr. Barnett’s noble work there,—to -remark that good as it is to bring home to “the less refined classes” -the significance of Art and Beauty, it is none the less true that -“whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again,” and to suggest, -of course, by implication, that there is a living water springing up to -everlasting life, of which he who drinks shall never thirst. Then he -proceeds thus:— - - “No doubt the social sympathies, the feeling for - Beauty, the pleasure of Art, if left merely by - themselves, if untouched by what is the deepest - thing in human life—religion—are apt to become - ineffectual and superficial. The art which Mr. - Barnett has done his best to make known to the - people here, the art of men like Mr. Watts, the art - manifested in works such as that which has just now - been unveiled upon the walls of St. Jude’s Church, - has a deep and powerful connection with religion. You - have seen the mosaic, and have read, perhaps, the - scroll which is attached to it. There is the - figure of Time, a strong young man, full of hope, - energy, daring, and adventure, moving on to take - possession of life; and opposite to him there is - that beautiful figure of Death, representing the - breakings-off, the cuttings short, the baffling - disappointments, the heart-piercing separations from - which the fullest life and the most fiery energy - cannot exempt us. Look at that strong and bold young - man, that mournful figure must go hand in hand with - him for ever. And those two figures, let us admit if - you like, belong to Art. But who is that third figure - whose scale weighs deserts, and who carries a sword - of fire? We are told again by the text printed on the - scroll, ‘The Eternal [the scroll, however, has ‘the - Lord’] is a God of Judgment; blessed are they that - wait for him.’ It is the figure of Judgment, and that - figure, I say, belongs to religion. The text which - explains the figure is taken from one of the Hebrew - Prophets; but an even more striking text is furnished - us from that saying of the Founder of Christianity - when he was about to leave the world, and to leave - behind him his Disciples, who, so long as he lived, - had him always to cling to, and to do all their - thinking for them. He told them that when he was gone - they should find a new source of thought and feeling - opening itself within them, and that this new source - of thought and feeling should be a comforter to them, - and that it should convince, he said, the world of - many things. Amongst other things, he said, it should - convince the world that Judgment comes, and that the - Prince of this world is judged. That is a text which - we shall do well to lay to heart, considering it with - and alongside that text from the Prophet. More and - more it is becoming manifest that the Prince of this - world is really judged, that that Prince who is the - perpetual ideal of selfishly possessing and enjoying, - and of the worlds fashioned under the inspiration of - this ideal, is judged. One world and another have - gone to pieces because they were fashioned under the - inspiration of this ideal, and that is a consoling - and edifying thought.” - -Now, when we know, as Mr. Arnold wishes us all to know, that to him -“the Eternal” means nothing more than that “stream of tendency, -not ourselves, which makes for righteousness,” that “Judgment” -means nothing but the ultimate defeat which may await those who set -themselves against this stream of tendency, if the stream of tendency -be really as potent and as lasting as the Jews believed God to be, we -do not think that the consoling character of this text will be keenly -felt by impartial minds. Further, we should remember that according to -Mr. Arnold, when Christ told his disciples that the Comforter should -“reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment; of -sin because they believed not on me, of righteousness because I go -to the Father, and ye see me no more; of judgment because the prince -of this world is judged,” we should understand this as importing, -to those at least who agree with Mr. Arnold, only that, for some -unknown reason, a new wave of feeling would follow Christ’s death, -which would give mankind a new sense of their unworthiness, a new -vision of Christ’s holiness, and a new confidence in the power of that -“stream of tendency, not ourselves, which makes for righteousness,” -in which Christ’s own personality would then be merged; and further, -that this powerful stream of tendency would probably sweep away all -institutions not tending to righteousness but opposing an obstacle -to that tendency. Well, all we can say is that, in watering-down in -this way the language of the Bible, Mr. Arnold, if he is doing nothing -else, is doing what lies in his power to extinguish the distinctive -significance of a great literature. The whole power of that literature -depends from beginning to end on the faith in a Divine Being who holds -the universe in his hand, whose will nothing can resist, who inspires -the good, who punishes the evil, who judges kingdoms as he judges the -hearts of men, and whose mind manifested in Christ promised to Christ’s -disciples that which his power alone availed to fulfil. To substitute -for a faith such as this, a belief—to our minds the wildest in the -world, and the least verifiable—that “a stream of tendency” effects -all that the prophets ascribed to God, or, at least so much of it as -ever will be effected at all, and that Christ, by virtue merely of his -complete identification with this stream of tendency, is accomplishing -posthumously, without help from either Father, Son, or Spirit, all that -he could have expected to accomplish through the personal agency of -God, is to extract the kernel from the shell, and to ask us to accept -the empty husk for the living grain. We are not reproaching Mr. Arnold -for his scepticism. We are reproaching him as a literary man for trying -to give currency in a debased form to language of which the whole power -depends on its being used honestly in the original sense. “The Eternal” -means one thing when it means the everlasting and supreme thought -and will and life; it is an expression utterly blank and dead when -it means nothing but a select “stream of tendency” which is assumed, -for no particular reason, to be constant, permanent, and victorious. -“Living water” means one thing when it means the living stream of God’s -influence; it has no salvation in it at all when it means only that -which is the purest of the many tendencies in human life. The shadow -of judgment means one thing when it is cast by the will of the supreme -righteousness; it has no solemnity in it when it expresses only the -sanguine anticipation of human virtue. There is no reason on earth -why Mr. Arnold should not water-down the teaching of the Bible to his -own view of its residual meaning; but then, in the name of sincere -literature, let him find his own language for it, and not dress up -this feeble and superficial hopefulness of the nineteenth century in -words which are undoubtedly stamped with an ardor and a peace for -which his teaching can give us no sort of justification. “Solidity and -verification,” indeed! Never was there a doctrine with less bottom in -it and less pretence of verification than his; but be that as it may, -he must know, as well as we know, that his doctrine is as different -from the doctrine of the Bible as the shadow is different from the -substance. Has Mr. Arnold lately read Dr. Newman’s great Oxford sermon -on “Unreal Words”? If not, we wish he would refer to it again, and -remember the warning addressed to those who “use great words and -imitate the sentences of others,” and who “fancy that those whom they -imitate had as little meaning as themselves,” or “perhaps contrive to -think that they themselves have a meaning adequate to their words.” It -is to us impossible to believe that Mr. Arnold should have indulged -such an illusion. He knows too well the difference between the great -faith which spoke in prophet and apostle, and the feeble faith which -absorbs a drop or two of grateful moisture from a “stream of tendency” -on the banks of which it weakly lingers. Mr. Arnold is really putting -Literature,—of which he is so great a master,—to shame, when he -travesties the language of the prophets, and the evangelists, and of -our Lord himself, by using it to express the dwarfed convictions and -withered hopes of modern rationalists who love to repeat the great -words of the Bible, after they have given up the strong meaning of them -as fanatical superstitions. Mr. Arnold’s readings of Scriptures are the -spiritual _assignats_ of English faith.—_Spectator._ - - - - -AUTHORS AS SUPPRESSORS OF THEIR BOOKS. - - -BY W. H. OLDING, LL.B. - -Alike in the annals of forgery—State forgery of “real” evidence—and -in the annals of the British drama, “The Golden Rump” has a history -very well known. It was a farce, the representation of which was -made the excuse for the passing of the Act whereunder the licensing -of theatrical performances was established. At the same time it -was a farce which those in power had directly induced its author -to compose. That there was no one to imagine or tolerate a play -sufficiently rampant to justify the proposal to fetter, which Party -Government imagined it well to execute—that this was believed, -becomes a testimony to the potency of customary self-regulation. Now -conversely, and carrying the analogy to all branches of literature, it -may be asserted that the suppression of books by authors themselves -is likely to be comparatively frequent just in those countries in -which the State does not much concern itself with suppression by its -authority. If this analogy have force it must, to Englishmen, be -peculiarly gratifying—though the elements of restraint have prevailed -in our history to an extent far beyond general belief—at a time when -Dr. Reusch’s excellent Index of books prohibited by the authority of -Pope, Archbishop, or Continental University is extracting from the -competent critics of all countries the homage which untiring assiduity, -monumental learning, and rich moderation compel. - -However, into the measurement of this comparative frequency, _causes_ -essentially enter. These, in England, as in other realms, have -abounded. Now, of all the motives which have led authors to consign -their compositions to the flames, one of the most frequent, if one of -the least seductive, has been the ridicule and elaborate discouragement -with which parents have received the knowledge of their offspring’s -first essays. The feeling which prompts this is not one to be -altogether blamed: it has its partial justification even in -the distaste with which the recipient children lay open their -treasure-house to those who in days of feebleness have guarded -them. For there is, as Tom Tulliver felt, a “family repulsion which -spoils the most sacred relations of our lives,” and which is only -broken down by some community of art levelling with the sense of a -universality wherein all distinction of discipleship is lost, or else -by dire circumstance shattering into shapelessness beyond disguise. -This, perhaps, rather than quicker sensitiveness, is why it is that -young Mozart met response, but the little Burney girl did not. Only -to Susanna, her sister, would Fanny breathe her secret, and anxious -was she because her mother gained sufficient inkling to induce her -periodically to tell the evils of a scribbling turn of mind. But, as -with Petrarch centuries before, some time in her fifteenth year the -promptings of obedience gained the day. “She resolved,” says Charlotte, -her niece and editor, “to make an auto da fé of all her manuscripts, -and, if possible, to throw away her pen. Seizing, therefore, an -opportunity when Dr. and Mrs. Burney were from home, she made over to -a bonfire in a paved play-court the whole stock of her compositions, -while faithful Susanna stood by, weeping at the conflagration. Among -the works thus immolated was one tale of considerable length, the -‘History of Caroline Evelyn,’ the mother of ‘Evelina.’” - -As if further to justify the halting or rebuking posture which at first -is apt to prove provocative of indignation, remarkable diffidence in -maturer life has pushed its way into sight where early publications have -been due to parental sympathy. The historian of Greece, Connop -Thirlwall, Bishop of St. David’s, was taught Latin at the age of -three: at four could “read Greek with an ease and fluency which -astonished all who heard him,” and at seven began the composition -of didactic homilies. Now to this precocity was allied a taste for -verse, especially as shown in Dryden and in Pope; and the result was -the issue of a work, edited and prefaced by the father, entitled -“Primitiæ: or Essays and Poems on Various Subjects, Religious, Moral -and Entertaining; by Connop Thirlwall, eleven years of age.” But not -only did these effusions lead to no riper verse, but it is understood -the Bishop disliked the little book, and by no means enjoyed seeing -copies of it. That he went to the length of Thomas Lovell Beddoes we -are not prepared to say. _He_, when a freshman at Oxford, first owned -himself an author by sending to the press the “Improvisatore.” “Of this -little memento of his weakness, as he used to consider it,” says his -biographer, “Beddoes soon became thoroughly ashamed, and long before he -left Oxford he suppressed the traces of its existence, carrying the war -of extermination into the bookshelves of his acquaintance, where, as he -chuckled to record, it was his wont to leave intact its externals (some -gay binding perhaps of his own selection), but thoroughly eviscerated, -every copy on which he could lay his hands.” - -Gymnasiarch as well as poet, it was natural that Pehr Henrik Ling, -the Swede, should do whatever he did with energy. Still, the burning -of eleven volumes by the time the age of twenty-one was reached must -be allowed to show as much vigor and striving after excellence in -the language of the gods as in what has been humorously termed “the -language of nudges.” Indeed, the author of the epic “Asar” does not -seem to have thrown any work into general circulation until he arrived -at thirty, and then only on the pressure offered by some friends, -without his knowledge, having got up a subscription for the publication -of one of his poems, when, says he, “I could not honorably refuse.” Yet -there must have been much of interest in these now perished volumes, -for not only had their author, early as school-days, experienced -something of the bitterness of life—of a political life, which was -shared by the people—in being driven from Wexio because he would not -betray innocent youngsters who had been comrades, but in the wandering -outcast career which for some years following he had strange and drear -experience, which, acting on a nature poetic and passionate, can hardly -but have expressed itself now in soothing verse, now in melancholy, -but ever in rich and true. It could at least be wished, if but for the -purpose of forwarding that life-resulting interchange of matter which -men of science assure us ceaselessly proceeds, that some of those who -compose under feeble inspiration, or under inspiration which has lost -its fire with lapse of time and change of circumstance, and which, -though a spiritless yeast, tempts to use as a ferment, would be as -little sparing in their sacrifices, so that it should not be held up as -a thing for boast, as we perceive it of late to have been in the case -of the Rev. Dr. Tiffany, that some five hundred pages of _sermons_ have -been delivered to the irrevocable pyre. - -There is the semblance of a common motive inducing men to destroy their -early work, and give over the labor of their hands to consumption -on approach of death. But in the latter case there is usually more -concentration and intensity of purpose. The purpose unquestionably may -have this added intensity merely in meanness; but there is also scope -for more valorous self-judgment. The argument is clearly seized by -Dugald Stewart thus:— - - It is but seldom that a philosopher who has been - occupied from his youth with moral or political - inquiries succeeds completely to his wish in - stating to others the grounds upon which his own - opinions are founded; and hence it is that the - known principles of an individual who has approved - to the public his candor, his liberality, and his - judgment, are entitled to a weight and an authority - independent of the evidence which he is able, - upon any particular occasion, to produce in their - support. A secret consciousness of this circumstance, - and an apprehension that by not doing justice to - an important argument the progress of truth may - be rather retarded than advanced, have probably - induced many authors to withhold from the world the - unfinished results of their most valuable labors, - and to content themselves with giving the general - sanction of their suffrages to truths which they - regarded as peculiarly interesting to the human race. - -This finely balanced observation—kind, penetrating, lacking warmth, -that it may appear more general, more forcible—was made apropos of -Adam Smith. It appears from a letter to Hume that as early as 1773 -Smith, who died in 1790, had determined that the bulk of the literary -papers about him should never be published. And he would in after-life -seem carefully to have separated, as he esteemed it worthy or not, -whatever work he did. Among the papers destined to destruction one -may guess—for though Smith, to the end a slow composer, had the -habit of dictating to a secretary as he paced his room, the contents -of his portfolios were not certainly known to any—were the lectures -on rhetoric which he read at Edinburgh in 1748, and those on natural -religion and jurisprudence which formed part of his course at Glasgow. -But his anxiety to blot out the trace of even these, which he was too -conscientious not at one time to have deemed sound, so increased as his -last painful illness drew the threads of life out of his willing hand, -that Dr. Hutton says he not only entreated the friends to whom he had -entrusted the disposal of his MSS., to destroy them with some small -specified exceptions, in the event of his death; but at the last could -not rest satisfied till he learnt that the volumes were in ashes; and -to that state, to his marked relief, they were accordingly reduced some -few days before his death. - -This anxiety of Smith’s, who had justly confidence in his executors, -has frequently been entertained very reasonably indeed with regard -to reminiscences, the spicy character of which often requires the -publication to be long posthumous, but tempts the graceless to make -it not so. Rochefoucauld’s “Mémoires,” which have, however, more of -the chronicle and less of the journal than is generally relished, were -certainly delayed, as the event turned out, long enough after his -death, in appearing in any tolerable form. But it had been like not to -be so. While he was still living he found that at the shop of Widow -Barthelin, relict of a printer of Rouen, his work had been secretly -put to press by the orders of the Comte de Brienne. The Count had -furtively made a copy from the manuscript borrowed from Arnaud -d’Andilly, to whom Rochefoucauld had submitted it for the purposes of -correction—“Particulièrement pour la pureté de la langue.” Measures -as furtive were necessary to recover it. The Duke accordingly pounced -on the printer, gave Widow Barthelin twenty-five pistoles, carried -off the whole of the edition, and stored it in a garret of the Hôtel -de Liancourt at Paris. We doubt if it is generally known that this -edition, wherein the widow had shown few signs of care, was entitled, -“Relation des guerres civiles de France, depuis août 1649 jusqu’à -la fin de 1652.” In curious contrast is the fact that sometimes a -relative destroys what the author has shown no vigilant scrupulousness -in suppressing. It was perhaps esteemed by the “very devout lady of -the family of St. John,” who was mother to the notable Rochester, on -whose death Bishop Burnet has so improvingly written, that the final -scenes of her son made it unsuitable that any of his papers should be -kept—especially the history of the intrigues of the court of Charles -II. reported by Bolingbroke to have been written by him in a series of -letters to his friend Henry Saville. - -Nor let it be supposed that this would have been so adverse to the -desires of Rochester himself. The late James Thompson, author of the -“City of Dreadful Night,” destroyed before his death all that he had -written previous to 1857, though he has been very virulent against a -sample king who of malice prepense with gross ingratitude thus treated -the donor of a priceless if imaginary gift:— - - A writer brought him truth; - And first he imprisoned the youth; - And then he bestowed a free pyre - That the works might have plenty of fire, - And also to cure the pain - Of the headache called thought in the brain. - -Pierius Valerianus tells us that Antonius Marosticus, when held in high -esteem and loved of all men, enjoying the dainties of life at the court -of some Cardinal, and dallying with existence which he had rooted hopes -would henceforth be peaceful, was carried off within three days by -a sudden epidemic. The doleful deed, Pierius says, was made more -distressful by the fact that sanitary considerations required the -cremation of all the dead man’s books with the dead man’s body. How far -the sense of tragedy may lie in this melancholy incident, the death -of Shelley helps one to appreciate. His corpse was washed ashore near -the Via Reggio, four miles from that of his friend Williams, which lay -close to the tower of Migliarino, at the Bocca Lericcio. The attitude -was memorable. His right hand was clasped in his heart. Bent back and -thrust away, as if in haste, was in a side pocket the last volume -of the poet Keats. It had been lent by Leigh Hunt, who had told the -borrower to keep it till he should return it by his own hands. This -impossible, and Hunt refusing to receive it through others, it was -burnt with the body amid frankincense and myrrh. - -It was fit that the pathetic in death should spring from a cause so -troublous in life. Again and again was Shelley wounded by the forced -suppression of his work. Doubtless merit is not extreme in the two-act -tragedy of “Œdipus Tyrannus, or Swellfoot the Tyrant.” But its fate was -as subtle and sure as that of Œdipus himself. Written abroad, it was -transmitted to England, printed and published anonymously, and stifled -at the very dawn of its existence by the “Society for the Suppression -of Vice,” who threatened a prosecution upon it, if not immediately -withdrawn. The friend who had taken the pains of bringing it out did -not deem it worth the cost, to pocket and nerve, of a contest, and it -was laid aside—only to be revived in Mrs. Shelley’s second edition. -It is said, indeed, that but seven copies are extant, one of which -Mr. Buxton Forman, the industrious and intelligent editor to whom the -best students of Shelley feel themselves the most beholden, secured, -by search through the vast stores of Mr. Lacy, the dramatic publisher -of the Strand—one of the very last plays in the very last boxes—a -mere paper pamphlet, devoid of a wrapper, carried away at the cost of a -six-pence, proving to be the treasure. And far was the Œdipus from -being the sole cause of trouble in respect of the works of its author. -Posthumous Poems of Shelley were suppressed on the application of Sir -Timothy, his father. The Posthumous Letters, which excellent forgers -had contrived to manufacture from articles written after the decease -of the poet, exercising an amount of ingenuity described as “most -extraordinary,” and receiving the reward of the labor of their hands -from Sir Percy Shelley, or from Mr. Moxon, were called in on the -discovery of the fraud. “Laon and Cythna” was cancelled to make way for -the “Revolt of Islam.” “Queen Mab,” which had been written when Shelley -was eighteen, though completed only when in his twenty-first year, was -surreptitiously published while its author was in Italy—copies having -been distributed among his friends—and though adjudged by the Court -of Chancery, from which an injunction was sought for restraint of this -irregular edition, to be disentitled to privilege on the futile score -of an immorality shocking to the British constitution, it and its notes -were, so late as 1840, the subject of prosecutions and convictions to -all who openly, being men of fair fame, ventured to publish it, as Mr. -Moxon experienced. - -The poets, indeed, of Shelley’s time were peculiarly unfortunate. It -is a sound enough deduction of law that what is evil—is filthy, or -blasphemous, or scandalous—cannot be for the benefit of the public -to learn of, nor therefore an object of the law, which is built on -the needs of society, to extend its protection to—a protection which -has in view the advantages of private individuals only as members of -society. But in this refusal of the active bestowment of privilege -the guardian of public morals in an individual man, in no sense a -representative of his country—a judge of the old Court of Chancery. -Now in active suppression, in punishment for enticing the public to -things contaminating and none the less subtle because presented in -intellectual form, there is indeed the benefit of the presence of a -judge, but the issue is with a jury. And the unfortunate interval, -or breach, through which public morals are so roughly assailable is -measured (usually at least) by the _sum_ of the differences -between a publication disentitled to privilege or worthy of punishment, -and the judgment of an individual or the opinion of the country. In -this vast moral interval, to say nothing of the interval of time -which rapidity in administration, on the one hand, and slowness in -administration on the other, scarcely ever fail to involve, there is an -enticement to the indifferent part of the population, or to that bold -and heroic part which dares to set up its private and painfully honest -judgment against the judgment of a Chancery judge—to trade upon the -bruited knowledge of a suspected well of evil, unchecked by unpalatable -astringency in consumption of the draught. With the narrowness of men -like Lords Eldon and Ellenborough, and the rebellious attitude held by -a nation consciously approaching to the dawn of an age of a freedom -of thought greater because more nobly and wit-wisely sanctioned, this -breach was disastrously great, and beckoned the way to a flood of -mischances directly or affectively extensive. - -Now, a highly curious result of the working of these doctrines was -seen in cases in which—not as with Shelley, nor as with Byron, who -vainly sought in February 1822 to suppress the edition of “Cain” which -the pirate, Benbow, had printed, and who in the same year saw his -“Vision” first refused by the publishers of the Row, then given to -John Hunt, then placed by John and his brother in the first number of -the _Liberal_, and then made the subject of a true bill returned by a -Middlesex grand jury on an indictment preferred by the “Constitutional -Association”—in cases in which, I say, the authors, from change of -opinion, were opposed to any publication of their earlier works. The -most prominent instance of this occurs, of course, in the “Wat Tyler” -of Laureate Southey. In the height of his pantisocratic schemes, and -full of Socialist feelings, Southey had written this dramatic poem, -and placed the manuscript in the hands of his brother-in-law, Robert -Lovell; he took it to Mr. Ridgway, the London publisher. When Southey -visited the Metropolis shortly afterwards, the year was 1794, Mr. -Ridgway was in Newgate. Thither Southey went, and either found -incarcerated in the same apartment with his publisher, or took with -him, the Rev. Mr. Winterbottom, a dissenting minister. It was agreed -that “Wat Tyler” should be published anonymously. The piece, however, -appears to have been forgotten, and wholly to have escaped the memory -of both publisher and Southey. But it had crept—so Cottle, Hone, and -Browne may best be reconciled—into the hands of Mr. Winterbottom, -who taking it with him, when years had passed, while on a visit to -friends at Worcester, beguiled some dull hour by reading the piece for -the amusement of the company, who were well pleased to pamper their -dislike to Southey by chuckling at his _ratting_ in political opinions. -But generosity clearly demanded that this pleasant spirit of carping -should have a sphere extended far beyond a Worcestershire company. So -thought two of the guests, who, obtaining the manuscript, with great -devotion sacrificed the long hours of night by transcribing it, being -careful the while to preserve the privacy which attends the most highly -charitable actions. Through their hands the transcription reached the -publisher, and no sooner had his edition appeared than Southey became -naturally anxious to lay the ghost of his former beliefs. For that -purpose, with the advice of his friends, he applied for an injunction. -Lord Eldon refused to grant it, on the plea that “a person cannot -recover damages upon a work which in its nature is calculated to do -injury to the public.” The decision of the Court encouraged the vendors -to redouble their efforts, and not fewer than 60,000 copies are said -to have been sold during the excitement the case created. As for poor -Southey, he defended himself as best he could in the _Courier_, and -underwent the further suspense of seeing a prosecution urged against -him by turbulent spirits in the legislature—Lord Brougham first, and -Mr. William Smith after. The ridicule was all the more increased by the -fact that Southey had recently published in the _Quarterly Review_ an -article in most striking contrast. And it is noticeable that in _his_ -American _Quarterly Review_ Dr. Orestes A. Brownson printed opinions -destructive of his early views, which had also been in sympathy with -Socialistic and transcendental movements, as well as with Unitarianism, -and threw cold water upon, and indeed endeavored in his own country -altogether to suppress, the work by which in this country he is best -known, “Charles Elwood; or, the Infidel Converted.” - -Certainly few authors have had better justification for a change of -opinion than Adrian Beverland. In a work quite unfit for general -reading, which purported to be issued “Eleutheropoli, in Horto -Hesperidum, typis Adami, Evæ, Terræ filii, 1678,” he had maintained -with nasty nicety that view of original sin which Henri Corneille -Agrippa in his “Declamatio de originali Peccato” had nearly as -undisguisedly maintained before him. For this performance he was cast -into prison at Leyden, and would have fared badly enough had he not -found means of escape. His work, however, was sufficiently thought -of to provoke from Leonard Ryssenius a “justa detestatio libelli -sceleratissimi,” just as a previous work had called from Allard -Uchtman a “Vox clamantis in deserto, ad sacrorum ministros, adversus -Beverlandum.” Passing these by, Beverland himself was contented to -write stinging libels against the Leyden magistrates and professors, -and then to flee to London, where he engaged himself principally -in collecting odious pictures. But after a time came a measure of -repentance, and though no excessive purity can be claimed for an -“Admonition” published by Bateman, of London, in 1697, yet the preface -or “advertisement” does certainly contain a strong condemnation of his -“Peccatum originale.” Fifteen years after, he died in a state of deep -poverty, a madman—impressed with the horrible idea that he was pursued -by two hundred men allied by oath to slay him. - -A state more interesting that either stanch advocacy or loud -condemnation of a position once relied on is that of hesitation. It -is one peculiarly unlikely to express itself, because the tendency of -hesitation is to refrain; or if expressing itself to arrest attention, -because subtile or feeble qualifications refer their interest to the -themes they hedge and do not centre in themselves. But when a mind -throws itself with force into a posture of racked doubt, and bids -us be aware that the struggle, not the issue, is of utter worth, or -when with yet greater fervor of expectancy a revelation, we know not -whence, we know not whither, is awaited with every nerve full-strained, -the world more surely than by either other mood becomes a gallery -rocked with hearkening spectators. I think there is something of this -earnest hesitation in a career it is not difficult, at this distance -of time, to futilize—Lord Herbert of Cherbury’s. There is a very -human weakness in his self-debate upon the publication of the “De -Veritate,” but there is a very human need—and, moreover, a need made -personal (as are all needs), though founded in philanthropy. Truly the -more sacred experience is—unless it can reach to that intensity and -presentness which thrills all who stand enclosed in the thin line of -its horizon—the more clearly it is desecrated by the common tread, and -seems a thing to mock at. So is it with the scene which Herbert himself -describes. - - Being thus doubtful in my chamber, one fair day in - the summer, my casement being open towards the sun, - the sun shining clear, and no wind stirring, I took - my work, “De Veritate,” in my hand, and kneeling on - my knees, devoutly said these words: “O Thou eternal - God, Author of the light which now shines upon me, - and Giver of all inward illuminations, I do beseech - Thee, give me some sign from heaven; if not, I shall - suppress it.” I had no sooner spoken these words, - but a loud, though yet gentle noise, came from - heaven (for it was like nothing on earth), which did - so comfort and cheer me, that I took my petition - as granted, and that I had the sign I demanded; - whereupon also I resolved to print my book. - -An aspect of mind combining both resolution and diffidence, which has -lead to the obliteration of literary work, is reliance on a friend’s -counsel. An amusing example of this is related in the ecclesiastical -history of Nicephorus Callistus concerning Marsilius Ficinus. This -gentleman had translated Plato into Latin, and came to his learned -friend Musurus Candiotus to know his opinion of it. Candiotus, after -perusing some few leaves, perceived that it would not satisfy the -expectation of the learned, and was even of opinion that it was so -slubbered over as to resemble the original (as Cicero the younger did -his father) in nothing but in name. He accordingly took up a sponge, -dipped it in an ink-pot, and blotted out the first page. This done, -he turns to Ficinus. “Thou seest,” quoth he “how I have corrected the -first page; if thou wilt, I will correct the rest in like sort.” Now -Ficinus was fully as mild in temper as slender in scholarship. “No -reason,” says he, “that Plato should be disgraced through my default; -refine away.” And according to his words was it done. - -It would appear from Scaliger that even had not Ficinus commenced his -out-sponged work afresh, literature would not have lamentably lost. -Far, indeed, would this have been from true, had the influence of a -friend prevailed to wipe from among the works of Gray “The Progress of -Poetry,” and “The Bard.” I will not deny of its setting the sentence in -which Walpole communicates the likelihood of such a fate. - - One quality I may safely arrogate to myself: I am - not _afraid to praise_. Many are such timid judges - of composition, that they hesitate to wait for the - public opinion. Show them a manuscript, though they - highly approve it in their hearts, they are afraid to - commit themselves by speaking out. Several excellent - works have perished from this cause; a writer of - real talents being often a mere sensitive plant with - regard to his own productions. Some cavils of Mason - (how inferior a poet and judge!) had almost induced - Gray to destroy his two beautiful and sublime odes. - We should not only praise, but hasten to praise. - -In modern days the function of Mason is more generally filled by -adverse public critics. The case of the late Edward Fitzgerald, who -by an unfavorable review was induced to withdraw from circulation his -“Six Dramas of Calderon,” and probably altogether to withhold from the -public his rendering of “La Vida es Sueño,” and “El Mágico Prodigioso,” -is until the present unhappily in point. - -More melancholy still are those episodes of literary history which -present the wearied author consigning with forced smile and show of -acquiescence—“coactus volo”—the products of his craft to an untimely -end. English history does not lack its instances of these heroic -souls in motley, these Herculeses with their distaffs. There is John -Selden, and there is Reginald Pecock: let us bare the mishaps of these -representatives. - -In the time of James I., the clergy were pleased to advance to -the utmost the doctrine of the divine right of tithes—a divinity -entailed in a pedigree of patriarchal ages, Jewish priesthood, and -Christian priesthood. Upon so venerable a claim so cogently revived, -lawyers yet looked with jealousy. For they saw in every claim by -divine right, where royal and sub-royal patrons were unconcerned, a -limitation of human rights, with their correlative human duties very -apt to be regulated by positive law. Selden, partaking of the legal -spirit—coincident this once with the historic—produced his “History -of Tithes,” a plain narrative, margented with copious authorities, -which established abundantly the duty of paying tenths—but established -on the distasteful ground of human authority. James, who patronised -divinity partly to show the ardor with which he in his one turn could -venerate, partly for the reflected strength wherewith it encircled -himself, partly from conceit and cowardice, and partly from better -motives, summoned the author to appear before him in December 1618, at -his palace at Theobalds. Introduced by Ben Jonson and Edward Hayward, -Selden maintained the test of two conferences at Theobalds, and one at -Whitehall with the monarch in person; but this in nowise prevented his -being called, on January 28, 1618, before seven members of the High -Commission Court in whose presence he was induced to make and sign this -declaration. - - My good Lords, I most humbly acknowledge the error - which I have committed in publishing “The History of - Tithes,” and especially in that I have at all, by - showing any interpretation of Holy Scriptures, by - meddling with councils, fathers, or canons, or by - what else soever occurs in it, offered any occasion - of argument against any right of maintenance, _jure - divino_, of the minister of the Gospel; beseeching - your Lordships to receive this ingenuous and - humble acknowledgment, together with the unfeigned - protestation of my grief, for that through it I have - so incurred both his Majesty’s and your Lordships’ - displeasure conceived against me in behalf of the - Church of England. - -Beside this forced submission, the authority which had exacted it -prohibited the book. Further, Selden was forbidden to publish anything -in his own defence, while public invitation—pluckily used—was given -to any who should choose to attack either him or his history with all -the virulence of pocket and party polemics. Nor was this all, but -Selden stooped at the bidding of the king to uphold opinions, no doubt -on three small points, which he had seemed to impugn in his greater -work. It is pleasant to add that he circulated among his friends in -manuscript answers to the attacks which were published against him. - -The fall of Pecock was more abject, and less relieved. About 1449 he -had written—not printed, of course—“The Repressor.” He had in design -to defend the clergy from the aspersions, as he conceived them, of -the “Bible-man” or Lollards. With this view he vindicated the use of -images, the going on pilgrimages, and the retention of the various -ranks of the hierarchy in their full directive authority. In 1450 he -remained in sufficient esteem—though indeed his treatise was not much -circulated for four or five years—to be transferred to the see of -Chichester. From that time, however, his good fortune deserted him. -The Duke of York conceived it well to cover his strides towards the -crown, with the redress of grievances; and the disgrace of Pecock’s -patrons, the Duke of Suffolk and the Bishop of Norwich, together with -the personal dislike the king contracted towards him, made Chichester -a safe object of attack. While all things were thus working for the -good man’s evil, the council met at Westminster in the autumn of 1457, -whence by general acclamation Pecock was expelled. He was cited to -appear before Archbishop Bourchier on November 11, and the character of -his offence became more definitised. He had held cheap the authority -of the old doctors, he had denied that the Apostles’ Creed was made -by the Apostles, and at the same time he had magnified the office of -reason—rather than singly of the Scriptures, or rather than singly -of the Church—as an ultimate test. Accordingly, to this citation he -appeared, armed with nine of his books, into which it must be confessed -were introduced some newly conceived passages and some erasures. A -committee of Bishops, to whom the matter was then referred, reported -adversely; and after further disputation the archbishop offered Pecock -his choice of making a public abjuration of his errors, or of being -first degraded, and then delivered over to the secular arm “as the -food of fire, and fuel for the burning.” He chose the abjuration: a -preliminary confession was forthwith made, a written confession was -added at Lambeth on the 3rd of December, and on the next day, Sunday, -arrayed in his episcopal habit, in the presence of 20,000 persons, -he knelt at the feet of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishops of -London, Rochester, Durham, and of his “own pure and free will, and -without any man’s coercion or dread,” made his recantation. In this -he had declared that he presumed of his own natural wit to prefer the -judgment of reason before the Testaments and the authority of the -Church; had published many perilous doctrines and books containing -enumerated heresies; and now considered himself grievously to have -sinned and wickedly to have deceived the people of God, but returned to -the unity of the mother Holy Church and renounced both the rehearsed -heresies and all other “spices,” or kinds of heresy, and exhorted all -men not to trust in his books, neither to keep or read them in any -wise, but to bring them in haste to the Primate or his agents; in -that he publicly assented that his books should be deputed unto the -fire, and openly be burnt as an example and terror to all others. The -recantation ended, a fire was kindled at the Cross. With his own hands -Pecock delivered three folios and eleven quartos of his own composition -to the executioner, who took and threw them in the flames, while the -Bishop exclaimed aloud “My pride and presumption have brought upon me -these troubles and these reproaches.” Little could he then think that -in some future day England would, at public cost, republish the chief -of the books his own lips had condemned. - -But the punishment of Pecock did not end here. It was perhaps not much -to him that the University of Oxford (which has consistently shown a -spirit of illiberality, or at least a burning disposition, throughout -its eras almost down to the present age) should in solemn procession, -its Chancellor at its head, march to a place where four roads met—the -Quatre-voix or Carfax—and there burn to ashes every copy of his works -on which hands could be laid. But, deprived of his bishopric, it was -necessary that directions should be given for his personal fare. These -came to the Abbot of Thorney, to whose Cambridgeshire Abbey the cleric -was sent. He was to live for ever in one closed chamber, so contrived -that he might hear Mass; to be attended by one sad man to make his -bed; to be forbidden all books but a breviary, a mass-book, a psalter, -a legend, and a Bible; to be refused any thing to write with or on; -but to be allowed a sufficiency of food and fire. And in this dolorous -state there is all reason to suppose his closing days were spent.[74] - -It is recorded of St. Briccius, that when a boy he saw the devil behind -the altar, noting the misdemeanors of people on a piece of parchment. -This seems to have stirred in him a desire for parchment that he in -turn might write; but so firmly did the devil by his teeth stick to -the stolen goods, that on the achievement of mastery by his juvenile -but saintly competitor, the horny, wicked head was knocked against -the wall, at which painful juncture St. Martin, ever valorous, so -conjured the devil that he caused him _willy nilly_ to blot out what -he had written. What then, one wonders, was the devil’s code of which -the people’s acts were breaches. What his diabolic, though discarded -standard? The prescience of St. Briccius or St. Martin would doubtless -be required to tell. But it is plain he too is fabled as possessed -with desire to bend the will of men in obedience to some crystallized -tradition, some extraneous rule. And yet, what is this principle of -tradition, this authority-binding, which in this form and that defeats -equally Fanny Burney or Gray, Shelley, Southey, or Selden? It is -something which, no matter what its ineptness to the circumstances -of the present, cannot yield; which is made up of the circumstances -of the past, and has in its whole as much as in every shred the -inevitability of the past, which pushes by informed private judgment -and reason—perhaps on the wiser plea that, ourselves a product of -the past, the accumulated and sifted wisdom of that past, the residue -of eclecticism on eclecticism, must be most appropriate to guide; or -else perhaps on the more foolish, that makes a creed osseous in one -infinitely remote exercise of one man’s inspired thoughts. As if, in -the latter alternative, the very strength was not the very weakness of -the argument which reduces after all everything to single and perhaps -sullied private judgment; and as if in the former the very strength was -not again the very weakness of the argument which cuts off arbitrarily -as the last point of systematized knowledge (more often not at the -last) its own method of history. For does it not result that if it -be truly said, there is nothing new under the sun, there must in all -cases be selection, and if selection be thus the real principle of -action, why is some portion of accessible knowledge, some portion -even of _received_ knowledge, to be cast without the bounds of usable -materials, as though to prohibit us too perchance, from strengthening -that uniformity or preponderance in independent selections to which -tradition owes its strength? Thirlwall may act as Pecock, and Beddoes -as Fitzgerald—but both the virtue of action and the virtue of -restraint are lost. - -Herodotus, if we may believe Blakesley and Professor Sayce, though the -“Father of History,” by no means illustrates tradition at its best. -Different, however, would it be, could we make up our minds, backed -by the later authority of Canon Rawlinson to side in this perennial -contest with Henri Estienne. This scholar in preparing an edition -of that ancient traveller took occasion to maintain that his author -was the reporter of things fabulous to an extent far less than was -generally supposed. Hearing that of this defence, which was written -in Latin, it was proposed to make a translation into French, he -determined, as an old critic says, to become now a _traditore_, as he -had formerly early been a _traduttore_, and to render his own work. -But if this was his original purpose, he immediately lost sight of it. -He took up, in fact, his argument thus:—From the unlikelihood of an -event it is unreasonable to conclude against it: Herodotus may have -reported things true, in presenting unlikely tales, otherwise, we must -banish a prodigious amount of incontestable but absurd matter, though -much of this character has occurred of late, especially in popery, as I -proceed to instance in anecdotes which objectors may style apocryphal, -fables they will call malicious, and chronicles they are certain to -brand as scandalous. Now, this was clearly of intolerable bearing. -And according to Tollius, its upshot was that Estienne was burnt in -effigy at Paris; though, having fled to the mountains of Auvergne, -and being in the thick of winter, he was enabled to chuckle at his -joke that he never was so cold as when he was being burnt, a joke the -authenticity of which late commentators might perhaps have less readily -impeached had they remembered that Antonio de Dominis had used it, as -he too for writing an unappreciated book was consumed in effigy at -Rome, while he lay shivering with the cold of a November at sea and a -fugitive’s fears at heart. Certain it is that at Geneva Estienne met -with repulse. For the archives of that state show that late in 1566, on -his first applying for a license to expose for sale his “Apologie pour -Herodote,” he was directed to amend “certains feulletz où il y a des -propos vilains et parlans trop évidemment des princes en mal” and that -after these amendments were duly made he deliberately encouraged the -suppression of his work, by taking advantage of an imperfect piratical -edition, appearing at Lyons, to add without license the famous -“Avertissement” with its tables or indexes, which drew down upon him -imprisonment, followed quickly by enlargement coupled with conspicuous -deprivation of the Eucharist on one occasion—if that be the meaning of -“pour punition, privé de la cène, pour une fois.” - -With consequences more radical, but with either far more boldness or -far less wit, Camille Desmoulins upwards of two centuries after courted -the suppression, not indeed of a book, but of life. It was full four -years since he had learnt that the parliament of Toulouse had hurried -to the flames his “La Libre France,” when entering the Jacobin Club, -just two days after the publication of the fifth number of his _Vieux -Cordelier_, he heard the question being for the third time put, whether -he should be expelled. His presence quelling in no measure the rising -anger, Robespierre, desirous to stay the wrath of the Jacobins by -sacrificing the work to save the author, spoke. “Camille,” said he with -dryness, and that air of patronage which the simulation of a tempered -passion carries, “is a spoilt child; he had a good disposition; bad -company has led him astray.” “We must,” urged he, concluding, “deal -vigorously with these numbers, which even Brissot would not have dared -to acknowledge, but we must keep Desmoulins among us. I demand, for -example’s sake, that these numbers be burnt before this society.” But -with what surprise did the echo of this speech, proceeding clearly, -and accompanied with indignant flash of eye, greet him—“Bravo, -Robespierre; but I will answer with Rousseau, _To burn is not to -answer_.” Strange retort! Had pride so dulled perception, or surprise -with one stroke slain confidence in all? No wonder that not less the -change of time than the terms, the very measuredness of the answering -words bidding Camille learn that he was treated with indulgence, and -disclosing that his mode of justification would be held to show that -the worst import of his writings was designed, left in him a sense -that his present non-expulsion, even the restoration of the title of -“Cordelier,” had no security. The lull _was_ false, Desmoulins was lost. - -Concession to honest criticism was received with not more tact by -Richelieu than by Desmoulins. It is true that in the Cardinal’s case -the upshot, perilous as it seemed to one of the grand supports of -dramatic literature, was merely ludicrous—but it may also be true that -that was because the appeal was indeed through the intellect, but to -the passive, not the active powers of man. The Cardinal was dramatist, -and had carried politics into comedy by making the characters called -France, Spain, or names of other States develop the fortunes of -“Europe.” Anxious to get the countenance of the Academy, which his -energies had lately organized, he sent the piece to them, that any -errors in the rules of the style or poetry might be corrected. The -Academy fulfilled their task, criticising so severely that scarcely a -line was left unaltered. The Cardinal—but I may as well adopt the tale -as Noël d’Argonne tells it. - - The Cardinal, to whom it was brought back in this - condition, was so enraged, that he tore it on the - spot, and threw it in pieces into the hearth. This - was in summer, and fortunately there was no fire in - the hearth. The Cardinal went to bed; but he felt - the tenderness of a father for his dear Europe; he - regretted having used it so cruelly; and calling up - his secretary, he ordered him to collect with care - the papers from the chimney, and to go and look - whether he could find any paste in the house—adding - that in all probability he would find some starch - with the women who took charge of his linen. The - secretary went to their apartment; and having found - what he wanted, he spent the greater part of the - night with the Cardinal in trying to paste together - the dismembered comedy. Next morning he had it - recopied in his presence, and changed almost every - one of the corrections of the Academy, affecting, - at the same time, to retain a few of the least - important. He sent it back to them the same day by - Boisrobert, and told them they would perceive how - much he had profited by their criticisms; but as - all men were liable to err, he had not thought it - necessary to follow them implicitly. The Academy, who - had learned the vexation of the Cardinal, took care - not to retouch the piece, and returned it to him with - their unanimous approbation. - -It seems a pity that after so much care and tenderness the play should -have been produced along with “The Cid,” and that the audience, less -manageable than the Academy, on the announcement that “Europe” would be -repeated the next day, murmured their wish for Corneille’s piece. But -the influence he sought to throw upon the fortunes of the Cid there can -be no need to recount to Englishmen. Only it is clear that Richelieu -was more like Cicero than Virgil, the former of whom indeed affected -to be desirous of burning some productions, but was easily diverted by -pleasant flattery; but the latter of whom, after having bestowed the -labor of twelve years on his immortal poem, was genuinely conscious of -imperfections which so few beside himself could have perceived, that -in his last moments he ordered it to be committed to the flames, a -fate evaded only by disregard of his solemn testamentary injunction. -It is equally clear that Richelieu had not the plea of neglect and -undeserved disfavor felt in its extreme by William Collins. For his -odes, first published in 1747, crept slowly into notice, were spoken -of indifferently by his acquaintance Dr. Johnson, and met with feeble -praise from Gray. The while the author was sensible of their beauty, -and so deeply felt the coldness with which they were received, that -he obtained from his publisher the unsold copies and burnt them with -his own hand. “If then his highly finished productions brought back -but disappointment,” hypothesises Mr. Thomas Miller, “how thankful he -must have felt that he had not committed himself further by sending -into the world such works as his own fine taste condemned! We believe -that when he had completed his ”Ode on the Passions,” he knew he had -produced a poem which ought to live forever, for we cannot conceive -that the mind which erected so imperishable a fabric could have a doubt -of its durability.” Alas! an immortality which sees no origin _in -præsenti_—how burdensome it is to bear.[75] - -It was the conviction of “Messieurs de Port Royal” that in the denial -of self was a tower of moral strength; and in this denial of self -they included a true abnegation of the glories of authorship. “If -any work for God were well done,” said St. Cyran, “it was the Divine -Grace which had effectually co-operated to its performance, and the -human instrument was nothing, and less than nothing.” With this there -was not one of his colleagues unwilling practically to show that he -agreed—Pascal least of all. What greater instance of literary modesty -can be alleged than the destruction by him of his treatise on geometry, -upon his learning that Arnauld had prepared the volume given to the -world in 1667 as “Elements” of that subject and his seeing its fitness -for the Port Royal schools? With most it would be much easier to apply -the system of Naugerius, who loving Catullus, but hating Martial, set -apart one day that every year he might sacrifice by fire a copy of the -works of one epigrammatist to the manes of the other. It is only fair -to add that Naugerius, who died while on an embassy to Francis I. in -1529, destroyed shortly before his death a history of his native city, -Venice, carried forward from 1486, which he had himself compiled, and -submitted to the same effective purging a considerable proportion of -his own poetic compositions. - -At this point I conclude. I perceive indeed that there remains -scattered through literature unused material of interest, and even -that motives to self-suppression of several entire classes have been -here unexemplified. But of this we might feel confident, that the more -and more this subject were opened up, personal as it appears to the -authors themselves, the more and more would one be struck with the duty -of the State, and no less than of the State of professed critics and -of friends of the hearth, not only not to discourage the expressions -of genius if even somewhat errant, but where there is the true -appeal—then, as Walpole says, to _hasten to praise_.—_Gentleman’s -Magazine._ - - - - -HOW SHOULD WE DRESS? - -THE NEW GERMAN THEORIES ON CLOTHING. - - -BY DORA DE BLAQUIÈRE. - -Some allusion has already been made to the medical theories respecting -clothing that have emanated recently from a celebrated German -professor, Dr. Gustav Jaeger, of the Royal Polytechnic School at -Stuttgart. His investigations into the subject commenced in the year -1872, and appeared to have been fairly exhaustive in the way of -scientific experiment and personal experience, with the result that -Dr. Jaeger considers he has discovered that the health of the world in -general is much prejudiced by the materials, as well as the forms, in -general use. In Germany his views seem to have met with very extensive -acceptance; they have revolutionised the trade of Stuttgart, where Dr. -Jaeger practises his profession; and many of the leading men—such as -Count von Moltke and others—have adopted his clothing; and it seems -probable that his principles will be applied to the German army, with -the view of promoting the health of the troops. In Italy the first -physicians have declared in favor of it, and so universally does the -demand appear to have arisen on the Continent, that the present writer -found Dr. Jaeger’s garments commonly exposed for sale in Switzerland, -at Berne, Lucerne, and Vevey, and other smaller towns. - -The stall for Dr. Jaeger’s clothing has formed an attraction at the -“Healtheries” this season, and, by the formation of a limited company, -who have opened a depôt in Fore Street for its sale, those who desire -to look into the subject, and form their own opinions, will be able to -do so in England. - -Dr. Jaeger’s reform is not a difficult one, and consists of the -fundamental doctrine that, as we are animals, we should wear -animal clothing. The physical “reasons why” are—first, that their -non-conducting qualities are a guarantee that the temperature of the -body shall be in a great measure preserved, while on the other hand the -shape and arrangement of their constituent hairs provide for the escape -of moisture by capillary attraction; and their adaptation to both these -ends is greater than that of any vegetable fabric. - -In England we have for many years acted instinctively on these -conditions, and we have adopted woollen, in the shape of flannel, for -use in cricket, boating, tennis, and in any athletic exercises likely -to cause profuse perspiration, as being the safest covering to ensure -us against cold and the sudden and dangerous chills which are likely to -follow overheating in a climate like ours. Our action has been the -result of observation and experience, which, however, according to Dr. -Jaeger, might have been carried still further and applied more widely -still. For this profuse perspiration is simply an intensification of -the daily action of the skin, which only ceases with life itself. If -this action be imperfect or repressed, fat and water accumulate in -the tissues, lowering their powers, and the flesh, which should feel -elastic and firm, is flabby, causing many disorders in the general -economy of the body. - -Besides water and fat, the skin excretes carbonic acid, and the -different decomposed products of fat—such as lactic, formic, and -butyric acids—to which the sour odor of perspiration is due. Much -carbonic acid is dissolved in the perspiration, and escapes with it. -Thus, it is not difficult to see that the kind of covering which acts -as the best conductor of moisture and its impurities, and at the same -time is a bad conductor of heat, and prevents its escape, is that which -we must adopt as the healthiest and the cleanest. - -The power of absorption by vegetable life, of the poisonous emanations -from animal life, is well known, and this process is not limited, -it would appear, to living plants, but is continued by vegetable -fibres—such as linen and cotton—with this difference, that the -living plant assimilates these emanations and the dead fibre does -not, but exhales them again when wetted or warmed. Thus our clothes, -in consequence of their vegetable character, attract and retain these -noxious principles which should by rights be immediately thrown off. -Animal materials, such as wool, are made by nature—according to Dr. -Jaeger—to protect animal life, and will neither attract noxious -emanations nor prevent their evaporation from the body. This is shown, -he observes, by the sense of smell and by the unpleasantness noticed in -cotton and linen underclothing, linings, and apparel which have been -long worn. - -There are many people to whom these considerations have a vital and -especial interest. Certain skins perspire much more freely than others. -This peculiarity occurs in persons of rheumatic and consumptive -tendencies, even when quite free from actual disease. Women in middle -age, also, and all in whom the circulatory system is weakened from any -cause, have this tendency. But the people to whom, in addition, the -Jaeger system appeals the most are certainly those who are corpulent, -or show any tendency to become so. And as this point will probably -interest many readers, I will give a brief notice of what Dr. Jaeger -says on the subject. - -To be in what we English people call “good condition” there must be a -correct proportion of the most important bodily constituents—viz., -albumen, fat, and water. The first is the foundation of nerve, muscle, -blood, etc., and in fact sustains the existence of the body. Relatively -to albumen, water and fat may be viewed as auxiliaries, although they -are indispensable in themselves. A proper condition of body requires -that these three constituents shall be present in certain proportions, -while the richer the body is in albumen the sounder it will be, and -the fitter for work. On the other hand, any excess of fat or water -will lessen its energies, and its power of repelling the action of -influences likely to promote disease. - -Of the evils of the increase of fat most people who suffer from it are -only too conscious. But besides the more visible ones, they are usually -poor-blooded, and consequently lacking in vital energy, while the fat -diminishes the necessary space for the circulation of the blood and the -respiratory organs. The first of these evils shows itself in flushing -of the face when the circulation is quickened by exertion, and in the -difficulty felt in the return of the blood from the lower parts of the -body to the heart, which causes lassitude in the legs, and a tendency -to varicose veins; while, if the circulation of water in the system -be also impeded, dropsical swellings in the legs will ensue. The -limitation of space due to fat hinders also the free play of the lungs, -and the obese are disabled from exceptional exertion which necessitates -fuller breathing than usual. - -Thus every one wishing to preserve health and working capacity, must -keep strict watch on the deposit of fat going on in the body; and all -such symptoms must be taken as evincing a wrong system of living; -and in order to stay its further accumulation and get rid of what is -superfluous, recourse must be had to augmented action of the skin. - -The increased percentage of water and fat in the system renders it also -more liable to disease, more sensitive to cold, and disposed to chest -affections in the winter. In addition, the working powers of the mind -are sensibly lessened. Dr. Jaeger has discovered that their presence -in excess can be tested by the specific gravity and the rapidity of -the nervous action: and he has constructed an air-tight chamber where -experiments may be conducted on the former, and a stop-watch tests the -rapidity of the latter. - -Not less interesting is Dr. Jaeger’s theory of the source of the -emotions, which he places in the albumen in the bodily tissues, -emanating in the form of subtile essences, which are opposed to each -other in the effect they produce, and which may be distinguished -as “salutary” and “noxious.” As a rule, the sanitary principle is -fragrant, the noxious tainted and offensive. The odor may be most -readily perceived in the hair of the head, and is more evident in the -adult than the child. If the subject of the test be in a cheerful mood, -the scent will be agreeable and sweet; but if sorrowful, depressed, or -in pain, the scent will be disagreeable. This odor may be noticed in -the anguish of fever, under the influence of terror, and exhales from -the mouth and nose, and, as Dr. Jaeger has proved by experiment, from -the brain as well. - -These things Dr. Jaeger considers that the experience of many readers -will confirm, and that they have great practical importance in -connection with his system. The German names given to these odorous -substances are _Lust und Unlust Stoffe_, substances of pleasure and -dislike. The former are thought by the Doctor to be the healing powers -of the body, which heighten all the vital actions and its powers of -resistance against contagion of all kinds. Sheep’s wool in particular -attracts these substances of pleasure, while the plant fibre favors -the accumulation of the substances of dislike, with all their evil -consequences. This last fact, which the German scientific medical world -considers Dr. Jaeger has proved, is supposed to be of the greatest -importance, as showing how to raise the resistibility of the human body -against contagious disease. The observations made extend to diphtheria, -cholera, typhus, smallpox, measles, whooping-cough, and influenza. - -I have endeavored thus far to divest the subject, as far as possible, -of scientific matter, so that the principle may be easily understood by -those who have made no previous study of these or any kindred subjects, -relating to the hygiene and sanitary management of the body. I will now -turn to the more practical considerations of the materials and shapes -of the clothing recommended. - -Dr. Jaeger advocates the use of nothing but wool, both for clothing and -also for the bed and bedding. No half-measures will answer; even the -linings of coats and dresses must be of wool, and men’s collars, and -even women’s stay-laces, must be of the same. The material which, after -much consideration, he has selected, is what is called “stockingette -web,” which is merely woollen yarn woven in an elastic manner, like -jerseys and stockings, and the woollen and merino under-shirts and -drawers, now in common use. The somewhat clumsy name “stockingette” -owes its origin to the fact that there was no technical name for that -kind of elastic weaving which is applied to stockings, and which was -called into existence as a “piece” material by the fashion of wearing -jerseys, three or four years ago. Dr. Jaeger considers this weaving -porous and supple and more durable than flannel; while they feel more -comfortable on the skin, and areless liable to shrink than flannel, -when in the hands of the washerwomen. - -No admixture of vegetable fibre should be admitted, and the practice -of wearing a woollen shirt under a cotton or linen one, Dr. Jaeger -considers enervating and weakening. Clothing should fit quite tightly -to the skin, so as to allow of the least possible movement of air -between it and the body; the second great rule being that it should -be twice as thick along the middle line of the trunk, from the neck -downwards, as at the sides or back. Another point for consideration -is the number of garments to be worn one over the other. On this -question Dr. Jaeger is of opinion that the clothing for men and boys -should simply consist of a woollen shirt, woollen socks or stockings, -cloth trousers fitting as closely as may be, and a cloth coat. The -coat sleeves and linings should be of woollen, and these, as well as -the trouser legs, when the latter do not fit tightly, must be closed -against upward draughts by webbings sewn into them, and fitting tightly -round the arms and ankles. No drawers are required, no waistcoat, and -no overcoat; not even in the winter time, except when driving. Men’s -coats must fit tightly up to the neck, and compactly to the figure, -and all others must be laid aside as unsanitary. The coat must also be -double-breasted, and like all the rest of the materials recommended, -must be undyed, of the natural color, or treated with uninjurious -fast dyes. The same rule applies to the trousers, which must fasten so -as to continue the middle line of extra warmth. This rule has special -application to those who desire to melt away superfluous fat, or those -who are subject to disorders of the stomach or digestive organs. - -The feet are to be covered with woollen socks, with a special division -for each toe; or else one for the great toe, while the upper part of -the boot must be of felt, and the lower part of felt or porous leather; -the boot being kept thoroughly porous, so that the feet may be as -cleanly and pure as the hands. The usual starched linen collar is -substituted by one made of unstiffened white cashmere, or one of the -wool in its natural hue. These collars can be obtained in every shape -and style, stand up and turn-downs, and they are considered as the most -comfortable that could possibly be devised, as well as preventions of -throat disorders. The hat should be of felt, and no linings of leather -nor linen are admissible. Instead of these a strip of felt should -be used, or else the hat should be quite without lining, like a -Turkish fez. The shellac used in stiffening hats is said to have an -injurious effect, and those who are bald or threatened with baldness, -or those who suffer from headaches, are especially advised to try the -unstiffened sanitary hat and its woollen lining. - -The clothing recommended for women is not very different, so far -as shirts and drawers are concerned, to that advised for men. The -night-dresses are the same, except a slight trimming of lace at the -neck. The union, or “combination” garment, a pair of woollen stays, -a petticoat of knitted undyed wool, and another, if desired of woven -stockingette, constitute all the clothing needed, in addition to -the outward dress, made of pure wool also, high to the neck, and -having a double lining over the chest, as advised in the case of -men. The lace collars for use are also of woollen yak lace, and the -pocket-handkerchief is of fine cashmere, either white or of a handsome -dark red. This last, Dr. Jaeger declares, is a very effective agent in -the cure of the colds and catarrhs of winter. - -Against such “cherished finery” as silk dresses, white starched -petticoats, linen stays, cotton and silk stockings, and white or -colored cotton starched dresses, Dr. Jaeger protests; and says he -fears he shall be considered a disturber of the peace of households, -when he remembers the delight women take in interminable washings and -starchings. But he takes courage, seeing that his own wife has not only -become used to the new order of things, but declares she would not -willingly revert to the _statu quo ante_, and that women, if possible, -need the advantages offered by woollen clothing more than men. - -The last of Dr. Jaeger’s plans I shall consider is the substitution of -woollen materials for linen and cotton in our beds. The bed itself must -be free from vegetable fibre, the mattress filled with hair or wool, -and the covering of both should be woollen; for this reason feathers of -course cannot be used, although they are all an animal substance. The -linen or cotton sheets are replaced by sheets made of the finest white -cashmere, or, if preferred, by woollen blankets or camel-hair rugs; and -a special form of dress, having a hood, is given, to enable the wearer -to sleep with the window open without fear of taking cold. This last -he regards as an important part of the sanitary rules of his system. -The covering meant for travellers to sleep in has also a hood, and -the skirt is long enough to contain two square pockets for the feet. -Covered in this way, the traveller may defy damp beds, and all the -general discomfort of foreign hotels. - -In reward for our adoption of his “normal” system of clothing, Dr. -Jaeger promises us—not indeed complete immunity from disease, but -health equal to the animal creation that spend their lives in an -artificial state. We shall have flesh thoroughly hardened, and -tendencies to corpulence will be reduced. In a word, the physical and -mental working powers will show a great and general improvement, the -nervous action will be accelerated, and the body will have resumed its -“normal,” or true condition. - -Of course, so thorough an innovation so completely in contradiction -to received ideas, to vast trade interests, and to the opinions of -the world in general, will be much discussed and strenuously opposed. -Dr. Jaeger says that he has been reproached with “riding an excellent -theory to death;” but his only ruling principle through life has been -to “examine everything, and retain the best;” and this is the principle -we recommend the public to apply in the honest testing of his new -system.—_Good Words._ - - - - -THE MAN IN BLUE. - - -BY R. DAVEY. - -I am a professor of music, and was born so long ago as the last -century, at Salsberg, in Germany. My father was a merchant of that -city; _fanatico per la musica_, as the Italians say, music mad. Knowing -that each of his children would inherit a fair fortune, he permitted us -to somewhat neglect our other studies, so that we might dedicate more -time to his beloved science. My two sisters played remarkably well on -the spinet, and sang finely. Karl, my only brother, was the flautist -of the family, and I devoted myself to the violin. At sixteen years of -age I believed myself an adept on this difficult instrument. My violin -was my constant companion. Nothing gave me more pleasure than to take -my dear “Fortunato,” for so I called it, into the woods, and there, by -the murmuring brook, beneath the rustling trees, improvise new airs and -vary old ones, to my heart’s content. - -So greatly did my father delight in displaying the talents of his -children, that he organized every Thursday afternoon an amateur -concert, at which at least a quarter of the town assisted—to listen -to, admire, or criticise, about as much music as could possibly be -crowded into a three hours’ performance. One fine Thursday afternoon -in autumn, just as the first of our pieces was concluded, a very -singular-looking individual entered the concert-room. He was as thin -and pale as an unearthly apparition, and entirely dressed in shabby -garments of light blue corduroy. His well-worn knee-breeches were -blue, his jacket was blue, his vest was blue, and the huge cravat that -fastened his great flapping shirt-collar was also blue. His face was -the most melancholy in expression it is possible to imagine. He had a -big, hooked nose, thin lantern jaws, and the only redeeming feature -which he possessed, his dark and intelligent eyes, were hidden by a -pair of goggle spectacles. His hair was bright red and uncut, and his -beard seemed as if it had never been trimmed since it first began to -grow. - -He did not attempt to apologize for his intrusion into our company, -but without looking to the right or to the left made straight for -a vacant seat, and taking it, prepared to listen to the music with -marked attention. It was my turn to play, but I was so confused, so -utterly by the appearance of this strange personage, that when I -struck my violin with the bow my hand trembled so much that I could -not produce a sound. I tried again and again, and was about to give -it up in despair when the Man in Blue rose from his seat and came -directly to me. “Young man,” said he, “you have a more difficult -instrument there than you think; hand it to me, I will play in your -stead.” I mechanically gave him “Fortunato.” Presently he began. -Never in all my life had I before heard such playing. The instrument -seemed to have within its wooden frame a divine soul, capable of -expressing every possible emotion—joy, grief, passionate agony, and -triumphant jubilee. We were all amazed and delighted, and at the -termination of his concerto such a burst of enthusiastic applause -greeted the singular performer that he seemed quite overcome and -confused. However, he bowed his acknowledgments, though in the most -grotesque fashion. - -It happened that we were on the eve of a grand annual musical festival, -at which some of the greatest musicians of Germany had declared their -intention of being present. My father, naturally concluding that our -guest was some celebrated maestro, who had arrived incognito, hastened -to thank him for the favor he had conferred upon us, and also to offer -him the hospitality of his house during his stay in our town. The Man -in Blue at first refused, then hesitated, and finally accepted my -father’s pressing invitation. - -For one week we surrounded him with every attention, and he, by his -gentle manners and genius, soon won our affection and respect. But all -our attempts to find out who he was and whence he came proved vain; he -took no notice of our discreet hints, and not one of us dared to ask -the question point-blank. He set himself to work to teach me a great -many things about the violin of which I was previously ignorant, and to -this curious man I owe many of my greatest triumphs. “My son,” he would -say, “love music; music is the food of the soul—the only possession we -have on earth which we shall retain in Heaven.” - -If a stranger happened to pay us a visit, our new friend would -immediately take refuge in the garden. He liked to be alone with Karl, -myself, and his violin. One day a merchant named Krebbs arrived on -business which he had to transact with my father, and as he entered he -stumbled against the Man in Blue, who was making good his escape. The -poor violinist, on perceiving merchant Krebbs, became as pale as death, -tottered to a seat in the garden, and covered with confusion, hid his -face in his hands. - -“Well, I am sure,” said Krebbs to my father, “you are an odd man to -take in that creature. Why, I thought he was in prison, or drowned, or -run over.” - -“You know him then?” asked my father, with ill-disguised curiosity. - -“Know him—of course I do. Why, his name is Bèze; he is a carpenter -by trade. But, bless you, he’s as mad as a March hare. Some time -ago our church-organ was struck by lightning. Bèze came forward at -once, and proposed to mend it, provided the parish furnished him the -materials. As he was known for a good musician and a clever workman, -our curé granted his request. To work went he; night and day he labored -for at least six weeks. At last the organ was mended, Bèze struck a -chord or so, and it appeared better than ever. The day arrived for -the first public hearing of the renovated instrument; the mayor—all -the village, in short, was present; and Bèze himself did not fail to -appear, attired as usual in blue. Blue is his color. He made some vow -or other, years ago, to the Virgin, never to wear any other but her -colors—blue and white. I tell you he is crazy. But to return to the -organ. When our old organist began to play upon it, not a sound would -it produce—except when he pulled the new stop out. Off went the organ, -_whoo whee_, and then it set to squeaking and whistling like mad. The -girls began to laugh, the mayor to swear, and the curé grew furious. -Bèze is a fool—Bèze is an idiot—he has ruined the organ! cried every -one, and soon amid the derision of the congregation, your friend left -the church. Strange to say, since that day we have never again seen the -creature; but our organ is completely spoilt, and remains dumb.” - -Thus spoke merchant Krebbs. I would hear no more, but hurried out to -console my poor friend. I found him beneath an apple-tree, sitting -all forlorn, his face turned towards the sinking sun. “Ah! my young -friend,” he said, “do you see yon little cloud which obscures the -splendor of the sun? So the words of a foolish man may tarnish the fame -of a genius.” - -“But,” I replied, “see, the little cloud has vanished already, and the -light of the sun is but the brighter for the contrast.” - -He smiled. “The cloud that hangs over my tarnished name will have to -pass away soon, or it will be too late. That organ which I constructed -has a soul within it. All my life I have labored to know how to lodge -my ideal of music within the compass of a single instrument. I have -done this. The soul is there. But I know not how to play upon the -organ, and they, in their blind rage, will not allow me to explain to -them. Oh, if I could, before I die, but find Sebastian Bach! He would -call to life the soul of music that lies sleeping in my organ, and -prove to the world that Bèze is neither mad nor an impostor.” - -My father took no notice of what merchant Krebbs had said, and when he -joined us in the garden he entreated Bèze to play for him in the open -air. The Man in Blue played for us a number of national and simple -melodies in such a pathetic manner that several times I saw tears in -my father’s eyes; at last he said, as the musician finished, “Friend, -though your organ is a failure, your violin is truly heavenly. Stay -with me yet a while.” - -“My organ is not a failure; it is the triumph of my life.” - -“But no one can play on it.” - -“One day some one will, and then——” - -“Well, we will say no more about it. Come, the supper is ready.” And he -led the way in. - -The next morning the Man in Blue was gone. We were sorry for his -disappearance; but soon forgot all about it in our anxiety over the -festival which was near at hand. Glück had promised to come, and we -were anxious to know with whom he would stay. Then Bach arrived, and -soon came Graun—illustrious Graun—whose nobility of mind inspired his -lovely melodies, and with him those inseparable geniuses, Fürch and -Hass. And Hamburg sent us Gasman and Teliman. Those who have never even -heard the name of these great composers are yet familiar with their -melodies. Many of the popular tunes now so much admired I have heard in -my youth fresh from the minds of their original composers, free from -the twirls and shakes clumsily added to them to disguise their true -origin. - -These illustrious persons were as simple and unostentatious in manners -as it is possible to be. They assembled in the Hall of St. Cecilia, and -I had the privilege of assisting at their rehearsals. I often passed -hours listening to their long discourses on harmony, on keys, scales, -and chords. One night Glück played, for the first time, a portion of -his “Iphigenia;” and on another, Bach enchanted us by a performance of -his delightful preludes. Bach, somehow or other, took a fancy to me. He -had observed the marked attention with which I listened to the remarks -of the different composers, and to their music. He asked me my name, -and who my father was; and I in answer, growing bold, not only related -all that concerned myself, but also the story of my Friend in Blue. - -“An organ that no one can play upon!” exclaimed this great composer; -“well, that is singular.” - -“But I am sure you can.” - -“Why?” - -“Because I am certain that the man that made the organ is a great -musician, although he cannot play upon it himself. He plays upon the -violin.” - -“As well as I do?” asked Graun. - -I hesitated, and hung my head: I did not dare say “yes,” and yet I -would not say “no”. - -“Speak up, my boy; say the truth always, and shame the devil.” - -“He plays better than you, sir, I think; but then he plays out in the -woods, and music sounds better there than in a close room.” - -“True, it does.” - -“My masters,” said I at last, after some hesitation, “will any one of -you, in your charity, try the organ—the village is not distant—and -thus justify the poor man?” - -“I will myself,” answered Bach, “on Sunday. But say nothing about it to -any one. Only to your friend, if you can find him, in order to induce -him to be present in the church on that morning.” - -With heartfelt thanks I gave the illustrious composer my promise to -obey in every particular his injunctions. - -On leaving the St. Cecilia Hall that evening (it was Friday) almost the -first person I met was, to my surprise, the Man in Blue. Hidden in the -courtyard of the Hall, he had been listening to the music, and was in -a state of nervous enthusiasm which quite alarmed me. I hesitated to -inform him what Bach intended to do, but at last I did so; he received -the news in a manner that I little expected. He made no demonstration -of joy, but followed me in silence until we were in a lonely part of -the town—a little square in the centre of which grew three or four old -trees. Here he paused, and sinking on his knees, prayed earnestly. The -moon shone down upon his uplifted face, and it seemed almost beautiful, -so great was the expression it bore of devotion and intellect. When he -had finished his prayer he embraced me in silence, and we parted. - -Sunday arrived, and at an early hour I started for the church of the -village. As I traversed the little field in front of it, I beheld -advancing from the opposite side several of the professors, and -amongst them Bach. By-and-by, as it got noised about that some of the -celebrities were in the church, it filled to excess. Presently, Bach -mounted the organ-loft. How my heart beat! Mass began. At the “Kyrie,” -for the first time, the instrument gave forth sounds, but sounds of -such heavenly sweetness that the congregation was thrilled as if by the -music of the angels. As the Mass advanced the more marvellous became -the harmony. The “Agnus” was so plaintive that I saw tears in the eyes -of Glück, who stood by me; and the “Sanctus” sounded so triumphantly -that it required but little imagination to believe that the cherubim -and seraphim were present singing their jubilant song of praise: - -“Holy, holy, is the Lord God of Sabaoth.” - -And the Man in Blue, where was he? - -By the altar, with his face turned towards his organ. His whole -countenance was radiant, his eyes were bright, and a look ecstatic and -serene passed over his features. But how ethereal he looked! - -When Mass was over the congregation passed round the porch to see the -great composers. “Long live Bach!” “Hail to Glück!” they cried as they -recognized these popular men. - -But Bach held aloof. “Lead me,” he said, “to that man of genius who has -so wonderfully improved the king of instruments.” - -“Master,” I answered, “he is in the church.” And we re-entered the -sacred edifice together, followed by Graun. I led them to the Man in -Blue. But what a change had come over him! The pallor of death was on -his brow; he had sunk back on a bench, and when he perceived us vainly -strove to rise. “Ah! excuse me, my masters. I receive you very badly; -but I am not well—the joy has killed me. I am dying, gentlemen, of -joy.” - -They raised him between them. I ran for the priest, and to the doors, -which I shut to prevent the entrance of any intruders. - -“Master, whilst I confess, play to me,” he said to Bach. - -Bach, seeing that mortal aid was useless, left us, and went up to -the organ. Solemnly he played. He played, as he afterwards said, as -he never played before or since. The priest arrived, and Graun and I -knelt down whilst the Man in Blue received the last Sacraments. This -pious act accomplished, we went nearer to him. He took my hand, and -Graun rested the head of Bèze upon his breast. Solemnly the music stole -through the silent church; solemnly the sunlight streamed through the -stained windows, and the Angel of Death stood within the temple of God. - -“I am very happy,” murmured the dying man, “since Bach plays to me on -my organ, and Graun permits me to rest upon his bosom.” - -To me he said, “God bless thee, my child—tell them I was not mad, nor -an impostor. My organ had a soul.” - -Graun stooped and kissed his pale brow, and with an exquisite look of -gratitude the Man in Blue died, and the Angel of Death winged his way -to heaven, bearing the poor carpenter’s soul to God.—_Merry England._ - - - - -LITERARY NOTICES. - - - TRUE, AND OTHER STORIES. By George Parsons Lathrop. - New York: _Funk & Wagnalls_. - - NOBLE BLOOD. A Novel. By Julian Hawthorne, - author of “Sebastian Strome,” “Garth,” “Bressant,” etc. - New York: _D. Appleton & Co._ - - PRINCE SARONI’S WIFE AND THE PEARL-SHELL NECKLACE. - By Julian Hawthorne. New York: _Funk & Wagnalls_. - - DR. GRATTAN. A Novel. By William A. Hammond, - author of “Lal.” New York: _D. Appleton & Co._ - - THE OLD-FASHIONED FAIRY BOOK. By Mrs. Burton Harrison. - Illustrated by Rosina Emmet. - New York: _Charles Scribner’s Sons_. - - KATHERINE. A Novel. By Susa B. Vance. - Philadelphia: _J. B. Lippincott & Co._ - - WHITE FEATHERS. By G. I. Cervus. - Philadelphia: _J. B. Lippincott & Co._ - -Mr. Lathrop, whose little collection of stories heads this list of -recent fiction, is a young American author who is well and favorably -known as a writer of subtlety and penetration in the delineation -of character, as well as marked by a notable picturesqueness of -presentation. The volume before us, though by no means representative -of his best, has much of his characteristic quality, both on its -serious and comic sides. “True” is a tale of North Carolina life, the -scene being laid, for the most part, near Pamlico Sound. It has the -merit of being thoroughly an American story, though the basis for the -plot is laid in the separation of two English lovers in the early days -of American colonization, the lady going with her father to the new -world, her lover being at the last moment forced to remain in England, -never again to rejoin his sweetheart. From this separation and the -chance meeting, after two hundred years, of a descendant of the young -Englishman with representatives of his sweetheart’s line, Mr. Lathrop -weaves a tale of uncommon interest, and of much dramatic power. He -has struck perhaps the richest vein of romance that American history -affords, and the literary skill, and yet simplicity, with which he -improves his opportunity, are worthy of high commendation. The other -stories in the volume, “Major Barrington’s Marriage,” “Bad Peppers,” -“The Three Bridges,” and “In Each Other’s Shoes,” are good, each in its -own way, and afford a pleasant variety of excellent reading. - -Mr. Julian Hawthorne’s story of “Noble Blood” is a pleasant yet subtile -and quaint story, the scene of which is laid in Ireland. A young artist -becomes acquainted with a very beautiful woman whose ambition is to -link her own with noble blood. The hero of the story, who loves his new -friend, who, though of Irish birth and family, is descended from an -Italian merchant, discovers through a singular chain of circumstances -that the lady is the descendant of the noblest blood in Venice, her -so-called merchant forefather having been a great Venetian noble, who -was compelled to fly from his own land to escape the consequences of an -act of mad revenge. This strange revelation satisfies Miss Cadogna’s -desire for noble blood, and she contents herself with her plain lover. -Out of this simple yet quaint and dramatic material Mr. Hawthorne has -woven a singularly interesting little romance, in which the graver -elements are touched up by little flashes and strokes of humor. It is -a piece of good literary work and will add to the author’s reputation, -though it is by no means up to the author’s best level. - -As good as the foregoing novel is there is much stronger and subtler -work in “Prince Saroni’s Wife” and the “Pearl-Shell Necklace,” two -short stories that well illustrate Mr. Hawthorne’s peculiar power. -Each is of a tragical cast, and the latter especially has at times a -dramatic intensity that becomes almost painful. Mr. Hawthorne, as did -his father, embodies his most tragical conceptions in such simple and -direct language, that the spell wrought upon the reader does not pass -with the reading, but remains long after the book has been laid aside. -There is a psychological value, too, in Mr. Hawthorne’s work, which -rewards a close study of his characters. One feels that he is not a -mere story-teller, but, as well, an acute analyzer and a close student -of human nature in some of its most perplexing phases. “Prince Saroni’s -Wife” is the tale of an Italian prince, and “The Pearl-Shell Necklace” -is a story of American life. Both of them are well worth the reading, -and told with a clear-cut strength and directness which mark the writer -as a literary artist as well as a man of genius. - -Dr. Hammond’s second novel, “Dr. Grattan,” is not equal to his first -in power, freshness, and dramatic sense, qualities which partly -redeemed the crudeness and extravagance of the latter book. “Lal” was -in many ways a notable work, and though the work of a prentice hand -in the art of novel-writing, had plenty of strength and vigor in it. -In “Dr. Grattan” one must confess to a feeling of disappointment, as -the story is a trifle dull, and none of the characters have any of the -_vraisemblance_ of flesh and blood, except a few of the village loafers -and loungers, who haunt the village store of the Adirondack town, where -the scene of the story is placed. Dr. Grattan, the hero of the book, is -a middle aged country physician, who has one fair daughter, and who is -pictured to us as a noble specimen of a man, in his physical, mental, -and moral attributes. Mr. Lamar and his daughter Louise are personages -of a singular cast. The father is a monomaniac, though a gentleman and -a millionaire, and the daughter a superb and glorious woman, endowed -with all the noblest qualities of her sex. The main animus of the book -is apparently to show that a middle-aged country physician may have a -justifiable taste for novel-writing, to while away the intervals of -medical practice; and that he, if well-preserved and good-looking, even -if encumbered with a pretty daughter herself marriageable, may win the -superb and glorious woman before mentioned for a second wife. Both of -these points the author establishes to his own satisfaction. There is -enough material to make a very good story, but we do not think Dr. -Hammond handles it with as much skill and deftness as might be woven -into it. The style is slipshod and careless, and such as one might -fancy would be the instinctive method of an author who had rattled off -the matter at race-horse speed very much as a woman would reel off a -skein of worsted. One or two unpleasant faults are specially noticeable -in a minor way. One among them may be mentioned as a disposition to -sneer at novelists, who, whatever their faults of conception as to the -function of the novelist, rank deservedly high as master-artists in -style and finish of method. The questionable taste of such criticism, -under the circumstances, is very much such as would call forth -condemnation for Howells or James if they had the audacity to practice -medicine to the infinite peril of their fellow-beings, and then -satirize a skilful and experienced physician whose ability was widely -recognized. _Ne sutor ultra crepidem_, or, if he will insist, let not -the shoemaker use his last to measure the art of Apelles or Praxiteles. - -Mrs. Burton Harrison’s “Old-Fashioned Fairy Book” is a collection -of fresh and charming fairy stories and middle-age myths happily -adapted to the taste and comprehension of young people. This lady has -discovered in the various examples of literary work, she has given the -public, fine artistic taste and facility. The present little volume -is a charming present for lads and lassies, and the stories told are -not such as the youngster finds in the ordinary book of fairy stories. -They are derived from out-of-the way sources, and though some of them -are rather grim for young people, they are on the whole sufficiently -healthy and cheerful for their purpose. The chief recommendation of -these selections is that they do not belong to the class of hackneyed -and conventional tales mostly utilized for fairy book-making. The -illustrations by Miss Rosina Emmet are spirited; graceful and -appropriate. - -The last two novels mentioned in our list may be dismissed with a few -words as belonging to the eminently proper and virtuous school of -fiction, which demands that there shall be a certain fixed proportion -of such haranguing as would be ordinarily heard in a Sunday-school, -whatever other elements may be introduced to meet the tastes of the -novel-reading class. The excellent moral advice so freely scattered -throughout these novels we cordially commend as worthy to be pondered -and inwardly digested, but probably the average novel-reader would wish -for it in a different place. Yet there are novels and novels, just as -there are people and people, and it may be that there is a public for -just such productions as the above. It is with unqualified pleasure -that we commend these two volumes, “White Feathers” and “Katherine,” as -quite gorgeous specimens of bookbinding and cover designing in a cheap -fashion. - - EGYPT AND BABYLON. FROM SACRED AND PROFANE SOURCES. - By George Rawlinson, M.A., - Camden Professor of Ancient History, Oxford. - New York: _Charles Scribner’s Sons_. - -This contribution to ancient history is a useful companion to Prof. -Sayce’s “Ancient Empires of the East,” recently published by the same -house. It is the work of one of the most noted of English scholars, and -he has brought all the latest researches to bear on the study of the -two great empires of Egypt and Babylonia, with whom the Jewish people -had most to do. The method of Prof. Rawlinson is to make the Biblical -references to these two mighty nations the text or foundation of his -studies; and then to turn on the somewhat obscure and contradictory -accounts of the Sacred Records the fulness of light brought out of -archæological and linguistic research. The result is very happy, and -the Biblical student of the Old Testament will find in this book a -guide of the greatest value in clearly grasping the accounts of the -Biblical writers. - - - THE HUNDRED GREATEST MEN: - PORTRAITS OF THE HUNDRED GREATEST MEN IN HISTORY, - REPRODUCED FROM FINE AND RARE STEEL-ENGRAVINGS, - WITH GENERAL INTRODUCTION BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON; - AND TO BOOK I. BY MATTHEW ARNOLD; TO BOOK II. BY H. - TAINE; TO BOOK III. BY PROF. MAX MÜLLER AND ERNEST - RENAN; TO BOOK IV. BY PRESIDENT NOAH PORTER; TO - BOOK V. BY VERY REV. DEAN STANLEY; TO BOOK VI. BY - PROF. H. HELMHOLTZ; TO BOOK VII. BY J. A. FROUDE; - AND TO BOOK VIII. BY PROF. JOHN FISKE. - New York: _D. Appleton & Co._ - -The editor of this collection of pen portraits of the hundred -greatest men, informs us that the project is one side of an attempt -to view the history of the world as natural history. In this way he -conceives biography as the physiology of history just as archæology -is its anatomy. With this thought in mind Dr. William Wood has been -for fifteen years a collector of engraved portraits and antiquities -regarding them as historic documents. Out of this mass of material -he has given us the illustrations of the book, which consist of the -portraits of the great men, the primates of their race, while to -illustrate the portraits we have short, and, it need hardly be said, -meagre accounts of the men themselves, with a brief tabulation of -their work, and a condensed estimate of their place in the world’s -progress. The principal literary value of the book, we think, is to -be found in the prefaces or introductions to each department, with -the general introduction by Ralph Waldo Emerson. All of these are -written in a scholarly and able style, and will be read with as much -or even more interest than the biographical sketches themselves. -After all, we fancy the value of the work to most readers will be -accepted as pertaining to the portraits, which are reproduced in -a very artistic manner from old and rare engravings. These are of -great interest. In the biographical statements nothing but the barest -outline, not quite as much, in fact, as may be found in our best -cyclopædias, is attempted. The book is very handsomely printed and -manufactured, and is one of the best specimens of book-making which -we have recently seen. - - - EVE’S DAUGHTERS; OR, COMMON-SENSE FOR MAID, WIFE AND MOTHER. - By Marian Harland, author of “Common-Sense in the Household.” - New York: _Charles Scribner’s Sons_. - -The author of this book is widely known, and her words respected in a -line of subjects peculiarly affecting the interests of her own sex. In -the new volume under notice she talks familiarly to her sex about those -matters where women need sound counsel more than elsewhere. It is in -the relations of wife and mother that her advice is the most urgent and -important. At a time when there is growing up among women of the better -class such a cruelly perverse view of the duties and responsibility of -their own sex, especially in relation to marriage and child-bearing, -the words of a wise, earnest and thoughtful woman are peculiarly -needed. Miss Harland speaks plainly, yet delicately, on such subjects, -and if her injunctions could be widely heeded the world would be better -off. It is a work to be specially and cordially recommended to young -women everywhere. - - - A REVIEW OF THE HOLY BIBLE, CONTAINING THE OLD - AND NEW TESTAMENTS. By Edward B. Latch. - Philadelphia: _J. B. Lippincott & Co._ - -The author of this book, for we suppose he can be called an author who -rearranges and classifies the text of the Bible with a view to bringing -out better the inner meaning and purpose of the text, we are led to -judge is not a theologian by profession. But this does not commend his -work any the less. The unprofessional enthusiast, believing either that -he has some inner illumination, or convinced that he is working on the -lines of a finer and higher logic than is given to other men, is well -justified in encroaching on a field which by ordinary consent is given -up to professional scholars. Mr. Latch is evidently profoundly sure -that he has found esoteric meanings in the great Biblical cryptogram, -which reveal themselves clearly once the clew is given. The clew in -this case is a study of the Bible, taking the interpretations of St. -Paul as a starting-point and assuming a number of bases, according to -which these interpretations are classed. The whole attempt is curious -and interesting, and is likely to prove edifying to students of the -Sacred Scriptures. Mr. Latch works out a curious historic psychology in -the sacred records, and his comments and glosses are highly ingenious -if not convincing. Of one thing we are sure. The author is convinced -that his mission is to make the purpose of the Bible clearer, more -consecutive and conclusive for the theology worked out of it by that -great codifier and lawgiver of Christian theology, St. Paul. This -modern coadjutor of the great apostle is saturated with the Pauline -theology, and yet some of his views are fresh and original, though -never at variance with those of his master, from whom he drinks at -the fountainhead. The quaint and ingenious interpretations which we -find scattered through these pages will repay reading, even when we -think his glosses forced and eccentric. To find a man in this age of -the world, after the raging of eighteen hundred years of exhaustive -religious and dogmatic controversy, who fancies that he has something -new and startling to say on the problems propounded in the Bible, is a -refreshing fact which should not go without brief comment. - - - THE ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE, THEORETICAL AND PRACTICAL. - By Noah Porter, D.D., LL.D., President of Yale College. - New York: _Charles Scribner’s Sons_. - -The remarkable President of Yale College, whose name is treasured -up in the hearts of thousands of the alumni of Yale as one of the -wisest, most genial, and lovable of the many distinguished instructors -associated with the history of the college, gives us in this study of -ethics the ripe and mellowed fruit of his thought and work. For many -years President Porter was the professor of mental and moral philosophy -before he assumed the headship of the college. The substance of the -book before us was originally given in the shape of lectures before -the senior classes. We are told that the book is not designed for -a scientific treatise, but to meet the wants of those students and -readers who, though somewhat mature in their philosophical thinking and -disciplined in their mental habits, still require expanded definitions -and abundant illustrations involving more or less of repetition. -Dr. Porter has in his own line of investigation great clearness of -statement, and the power, perhaps growing out of the needs of the -class-room, of familiarizing and simplifying abstruse reasonings. -We find this strikingly illustrated in the book before us. It is -masterly in its lucidity of reasoning, and in its applications often so -practical as to make us feel that the object of the author is not -merely to lay bare the scientific theory of ethics, but to bring -its principles home to the heart and sympathy of his readers. As a -dialectical exposition the cut-and-dried philosopher who revels in the -abstract formulas of Kant, Hegel, Schopenhauer and others may find -occasion to criticise Dr. Porter’s methods. But to the general reader -the speculations of Dr. Porter will prove none the less interesting -because he brings them down to the sympathies and interests of men. - - - - -FOREIGN LITERARY NOTES. - - -Dr. Stratmann, the compiler of the excellent “Dictionary of the Old -English Language,” has died at Cologne at the age of sixty-two. - - -The engagement is announced of Mr. G. E. Buckle, the editor of the -_Times_, to Miss Alice Payn, the third daughter of the distinguished -novelist and editor of the _Cornhill Magazine_. - - -There is the unusual number of three vacancies at this moment in the -ranks of the French “Immortals.” Two of the seats, however, are as -good as filled by M. Joseph Bertrand and M. Victor Duruy. For the -third there are several candidates, of whom M. Ludovic Halévy is first -favorite. It was believed that M. Alphonse Daudet was standing, but he -has authorized the _Figaro_ to say that he never has offered himself, -and never will offer himself to the Academy. - - -A new novel by Georg Ebers, upon which he has been at work for two -years, is to be published at Christmas. The subject is taken from the -last struggles of Paganism against Christendom, and the scene is laid -in Egypt. - - -The new and enlarged edition (the third) of Hermann Grimm’s “Essays,” -includes articles on Lord Byron and Leigh Hunt, Frederick the Great and -Macaulay, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. - - -Henrik Ibsen’s “Vildanden” to which all Scandinavia has been looking -forward for months past, proves on the whole a disappointment to his -admirers. It is a five-act social satire, full of strong scenes and -pregnant sayings, and containing at least two masterly characters; but -there is no shirking the fact that as a drama it is ill-digested and -formless. Nor is the apologue of “The Wild Duck,” from which it takes -its name, by any means so luminous or of such general application as -is commonly the case with this great satirist’s inventions. It will -certainly not add to the fame of the author of “A Doll’s House” and -“Ghosts.” Björnsen, too, in his new novel, “Det Flager,” is not at his -best. It is an earnest and well-meant protest against false delicacy -in education; but unfortunately it proves its author to be distinctly -deficient in true delicacy. The youngest of the three great Norwegian -poets, Alexander Kielland, has not yet issued his promised novel -“Fortuna,” but it is to be hoped that he may redeem the credit of a -season which has as yet proved by no means the _annus mirabilis_ that -was anticipated. - - - - -MISCELLANY. - - -WOMEN AS CASHIERS.—The movement in favor of employing women -in all kinds of work that was formerly done by men only is one that -should be carried on with caution; for women and girls have sometimes -been put into situations for which their sex is unfit—the Government -clerkships in America for instance—and the result has been a reaction -against their employment in capacities where they are really useful. -But of all the posts to which women’s aptitudes are the least open to -question, that of cashier must be cited first. Women are excellent -money-keepers. While male cashiers form a grievously large percentage -among the prisoners brought to trial for embezzlement, women and girls -being seldom exposed to the same temptations as men in the matter of -dissipation, betting, gambling, or speculation, have very rarely been -known to misappropriate moneys entrusted to them. An honest woman -is very honest; “an honest man is too often,” as Lord Palmerston -bitterly said, “one who has never been tempted.” A man once applied -to an Italian banker for a cashiership, and was asked to state his -qualifications. “I have been ten years in prison,” he said, “and so -shall not mind being locked up in a room by myself, and having my -pockets searched when I go out and come in.” The banker admired his -impudence, took him at his word and used to say that he made a splendid -cashier. We are not affirming that antecedents like this rogue’s are -required to fit a man for a post of trust; but we do maintain that it -is very difficult to find a thoroughly trustworthy male cashier, even -among applicants provided with a mass of testimonials; whereas careful, -honest, and well-educated women, in whom full confidence can be placed, -exist in great numbers.—_Graphic._ - -THE HOUSE OF LORDS: CAN IT BE REFORMED?—We look to a second -Chamber to improve the work of the first, not simply to foil it. We -do not expect to have to do the work over again, as has been the case -with nearly every measure submitted to the ordeal of passing the House -of Lords. Why is this? How comes it to happen with a House in which, -without doubt, there are men of acknowledged capacity—men fully coming -up to the idea of what an assembly of notables should be—there is this -constantly recurring, mischievous meddling? How is it that beneficent -legislation has almost invariably had to be wrung from them, and that -an inordinate waste of time, coupled with an utterly unnecessary and -irritating friction, has been the result? An answer to these questions -is to be found in the fact that the members of the House of Lords feel -themselves entitled to legislate according to their own sweet will, and -without reference to the wishes or wants of the people of this country. -They look upon all political and social questions from the point of -view of their own order—an order which at the best must be regarded -as exclusive and privileged. This tendency is a perfectly natural one, -and they are to be no more blamed for exhibiting it than any other -class, whether rich or poor, professional or commercial, for looking at -matters from their own point of view. We must condemn the system which -not only enables the Lords to do this, but gives effect to their views -by according to them privileges for which practically the country gets -no return. We have no right to expect a Peer to place himself outside -his surroundings: we have a right to demand that the needs of the many -shall be preferred to the interests of the few. Observe the tendency -of those interests, and note one result, at least, which is in itself -productive of ill. The tendency among the Peers towards the principles -of Conservatism increases every year. Even Peers who in the House of -Commons were apparently sound Liberals rarely maintained their strictly -Liberal attitude; and where the original possessor of the title proves -true to his early faith, it is rarely that his successor walks in -his steps. The consequence is that the Conservative majority in the -House of Lords has for many years gone on steadily increasing, and the -addition of fresh recruits does little to stem the tide; one result -of which is that a Liberal Ministry comes into power very heavily -handicapped; it has this hostile majority always to contend with, -and has to shape its measures, not so much with an eye to the wants -of the people, as to the possibility of mollifying this majority. It -further throws the burden of legislative work on the House of Commons -unduly, because a Liberal Ministry knows full well that it will -require the force of a large majority in the Lower House to induce -the Upper House even to consider its measures. Much of the difficulty -experienced in the House of Commons, by the Government as well as by -private Members, in getting their measures passed, is due to that -House being overworked; the reason of this being that the other House -does not get its fair share of work, owing to its attitude towards -all Liberal legislation. I am far from saying that Conservatives, or -Conservative Peers, have no sympathy with their fellow-countrymen. -But their feeling towards the masses is that of desiring to act for -them rather than of wishing to get them to act for themselves; in -other words they show a tendency to maintain the power of beneficial -legislation in their own hands, and not to entrust it to those who are -likely to feel its effects the most. It is this want of confidence -rather than a lack of sympathy which is so unfortunate. It makes the -Peers anxious to retain power in their own interests; and thus their -action in the House of Lords is taken without the slightest sense of -responsibility, or without the slightest pretence of representing the -views and wishes of the people at large. What, then, is the remedy for -all this? Clearly, to make the second Chamber truly a representative -one—representative of the great interests of the people, of the State, -of the empire.—_British Quarterly._ - - -A REVOLVING LIBRARY.—The idea of applying the principle of -revolution to simplify religious duties seems to have originated in the -feeling that since only the learned could acquire merit by continually -reciting portions of Buddha’s works, the ignorant and hard working were -rather unfairly weighted in life’s heavenward race. Thus it came to be -accounted sufficient that a man should turn over each of the numerous -rolled manuscripts containing the precious precepts, and considering -the multitude of these voluminous writings, the substitution of this -simple process must have been very consolatory. Max Müller has told us -how the original documents of the Buddhist canon were first found -in the monasteries of Nepaul, and soon afterwards further documents -were discovered in Thibet and Mongolia, the Thibetan canon consisting -of two collections, together comprising 333 volumes folio. Another -collection of the Wisdom of Buddha was brought from Ceylon, covering -14,000 palm leaves, and written partly in Singalese and partly in -Burmese characters. Nice light reading! From turning over these -manuscripts by hand, to the simple process of arranging them in a huge -cylindrical bookcase, and turning that bodily, was a very simple and -ingenious transition; and _thus the first circulating library came into -existence_!—_Contemporary Review._ - - -A CHILD’S METAPHORS.—The early use of names by children -seems to illustrate the play of fancy almost as much as the activity -of thought. In sooth, have not thought and imagination this in common, -that they both combine elements of experience in new ways, and both -trace out the similarities of things? The poet’s simile is not so -far removed from the scientific discoverer’s new idea. Goethe the -poet readily became Goethe the morphologist, detecting analogies in -structures which to the common eye were utterly unlike. The sweet -attractiveness of baby-speech is due in no small measure to its highly -pictorial and metaphorical character. Like the primitive language -of the race, that of the child is continually used as a vehicle for -poetical comparison. The child and the poet have this in common, that -their minds are not fettered by all the associations and habits of -mind which lead us prosaic persons to separate things by absolutely -insuperable barriers. In their case imagination darts swiftly, like -a dragon-fly, from object to object, ever discovering beneath a -surface-dissimilarity some unobtrusive likeness. A child is apt to -puzzle its elders by these swift movements of its mind. It requires a -certain poetic element in a parent to follow the lead of the daring -child-fancy, and it is probable that many a fine perception of analogy -by children has been quite thrown away on the dull and prejudiced minds -of their seniors. To give an example of this metaphorical use of words -by the child: C. when eighteen months old was one day watching his -sister as she dipped her crust into her tea. He was evidently surprised -by the rare sight, and after looking a moment or two, exclaimed “Ba!” -(bath), laughing with delight, and trying, as was his wont when deeply -interested in a spectacle, to push his mother’s face round so that -she too might admire it. The boy delighted in such figurative use of -words, now employing them as genuine similes, as when he said of a dog -panting after a run, “Dat bow-wow like puff-puff” and of the first real -ship he saw sailing, “Dat ship go majory daw” (_i.e._ like marjory-daw -in the nursery rhyme). Like many a poet he has had his recurring or -standing metaphors. Thus, as we have seen, “ship” was the figurative -expression for all objects having a pyramidal form. A pretty example -of his love of metaphor was his habit of calling the needle in a small -compass of his father’s “bir” (bird). It needs a baby-mind to detect -the faint resemblance to the bird form and the bird movement here. The -same tendency of the child-mind to view things metaphorically or by -the aid of analogies to what is already familiar, shows itself in the -habit of personifying natural objects. It has been said by a living -philosopher that children do not attribute life, thought, and purpose -to inanimate things; but observation of their use of words is, I think, -decidedly against this view. C. had a way from a very early date of -looking at natural objects as though by their actions they specially -aimed at affecting his well-being. Thus he would show all the signs of -kingly displeasure when his serenity of mind was disturbed by noises. -When, for example, he was taken to the seaside (about when twenty -months old), he greatly disappointed his parent, expectant of childish -wonder in his eyes by merely muttering “Water make noise.” Again, he -happened one day in the last week of his second year to be in the -garden with his father while it was thundering. On hearing the sound he -said with an evident tone of annoyance, “Tonna mâ Ninghi noi,” _i.e._ -thunder makes noise for C., and he instantly added, “Notty tonna!” -(naughty thunder). He was falling into that habit of mind against -which philosophers have often warned us, making man the measure of -the universe. The idea that the solemn roar of thunder was specially -designed to disturb the peace of mind of so diminutive a person seems -no doubt absurd enough; yet how many of us are altogether free from -the same narrow, vain, egoistic way of looking out into the vast and -boundless cosmos?—_English Illustrated Magazine._ - -HAS ENGLAND A SCHOOL OF MUSICAL COMPOSITION?—We suppose the -question must be answered in the affirmative; but with the knowledgment -that the insularity of England reduces the idea to a minimum. Our -insular position is a natural obstacle to the complete development -of our music. We pursue music with all activity, but that of itself -is but the physique, as it were, of vitality. It is an evident truth -that, besides that the artistic and intellectual development of this -great human art necessitates a wide area for its growth, its vital or -emotional being demands a more southern country than England. Central -Europe is the seat of music’s history. Our aspirations, intelligent -activity, and association with the Continent, lead to our reflecting -the workmanship of southern art in our serious compositions; this is -not a struggle, as that to find vitality, but an achievement. This -stage of imitation greatly characterizes modern English music effort. -Even Arthur Sullivan, our modern land Dibdin, shows the intellectual -side of his genius in imitation. The great mass of our modern melody -is too conscious of structure to be true, too sentimental to be real. -These are relative descriptions, but the whole condition of English -music is relative. The musical faculty—the spontaneous creation of -music is national—is natural, yet is not equally developed. Individual -instances of its truthful, vital, genuine (whatever expression -signifies relationship to southern developments) existence in our -history are so rare and isolated, that we might surely wonder how -they came to be, and the influence of their example on us has had -proportionately small consequences. But the typical English activity -and work—which is quite another thing—goes on. We may certainly -allow a national style of English Church music in the past, but must -remember that religion was its _raison d’être_—a wider development of -music was absent. Thus, in asking ourselves if we have or have not a -school of English music—taking “school” to mean the mould of music’s -expression determined by the circumstances and men of the time—we must -acknowledge that, though we doubtless have something of the sort, it is -only in the slightest degree perceptible.—_Musical Opinion._ - - -BOOTY IN WAR.—Charles, as soon as he had finished conquering -Lorraine, gathered his host at Besançon, and marched to Granson on the -Neuchâtel Lake. Here a garrison of 500 Swiss was betrayed to him; he -hanged or drowned every man of them, including the monks who came as -chaplains. Justly enraged, the Federation gathered its whole strength, -and with 24,000 men fell upon Charles unawares and defeated him -utterly. The booty was something fabulous; Burgundy, taking taxes from -all the rich Netherland towns, was then the richest Power in Europe. -The spoil was valued at a quarter of a million. You may calculate what -that would be worth now. The big diamonds—one is now in the Pope’s -tiara, another was long the glory of the French regalia—were among -the valuables. The Duke’s throne was valued at 11,000 gulden; all his -plate, his silver bedstead, his wonderfully illuminated prayer-book, -were taken, besides 1,000,000 gulden in his treasure chest, 10,000 -horses, and a proportionate quantity of all kinds of stores. No wonder -the Swiss never recovered Granson; there were long and bitter quarrels -about the division of the booty, and the coming in of so much wealth -amongst a simple people demoralised them sadly, and led the way to -their becoming the chief mercenaries of Europe.—_Good Words._ - - -SIR HENRY BESSEMER.—Among his early contrivances may be -noted a method by which basso-relievos were copied on cardboard, and -also a machine for producing bronze-dust at a low price. Knowing well -the inefficiency of the Patent Laws, Bessemer was careful to conduct -his operations as secretly as possible, and the manufacture of gold -bronze powder is still invested with much of the mystery of mediæval -alchemy. After inventing a system for improving the Government stamps -on deeds and other documents, so as to render forgery impossible, -saving the country several millions (for which he received no reward -or acknowledgment whatever from the Government), he submitted to the -authorities at Woolwich a novel form of projectile. On its rejection -in England he exhibited it to the emperors of France and Austria, who -acknowledged its value, and gave the inventor every assistance for its -improvement. It was incidentally remarked, however, that some stronger -metal than any then in use would be necessary for the construction of -the guns, to enable them to resist so heavy a charge. It is said that -this remark first led Bessemer to turn his attention to the improvement -of the method of smelting iron. He established and maintained at his -own expense a foundry in the north of London, where he continued for -several years to expend nearly the whole of his private fortune. At -length, in 1856, at the Cheltenham meeting of the British Association, -the scientific world was startled, and almost a panic created at -Birmingham, by the announcement of the discovery of the process, since -known as the Bessemer process, which was to effect a revolution in -the metal industry. The invention, however, remained incomplete till -the year 1859, when it first began to be adopted by the Sheffield and -Birmingham manufacturers. Recent improvements—more particularly the -Gilchrist-Thomas process—have since greatly increased its value and -removed, or at least diminished, its earlier defects. Bessemer steel -is now used for every purpose in “hardware,” and has almost entirely -supplanted wrought iron. For rails it has proved invaluable. Then its -extreme tenacity and toughness render it most suitable for the purposes -of ship-building and boiler construction. It has been adopted by Krupp -in Prussia, and Elpstrand in Sweden, for the manufacture of their -celebrated ordnance; and even Sir William Armstrong, in designing his -coiled steel guns, resorted to the Bessemer metal. Mr. W. D. Allen, -of Sheffield, who was the first to adopt the process practically and -commercially, declared recently that he had made every conceivable -article with the metal, from an intermediate crank shaft to a corkscrew -or table-knife. In 1878 a Commission of the Admiralty adopted Bessemer -steel as the most serviceable material for anchors. The inventions of -Sir Henry Bessemer are embodied in no less than 114 patents, and the -drawings of these alone, all from his own pencil, fill seven volumes. -Some of these refer to the casting of printing types, and various -improvements in the management of a type foundry; to railway brakes; to -the improved manufacture of glass; the silvering of glass; to improved -apparatus in sugar refining; and to producing ornamental surfaces on -leather and textile fabrics. In 1875 he invented the _Bessemer_ saloon -steamer for preventing sea-sickness. A company was formed, he himself -subscribing £25,000 towards the capital, but unfortunately it failed. -The institute of Civil Engineers was the first body to recognise -the merits of Mr. Bessemer’s work, and in 1858 conferred upon him -the Telford gold medal. The interposition of the British Government -prevented him receiving from the Emperor Napoleon III. the Grand Cross -of the Legion of Honor. From the Emperor of Austria he received the -Cross of a Knight Commander of Francis Joseph. In 1871, he was elected -President of the Iron and Steel Institute, and in the following year -was awarded the Albert Gold Medal by the Society of Arts. In 1879 he -was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society, and a few months afterwards -was knighted at Windsor.—_Science._ - - -Transcriber’s Notes: - Underscores “_” before and after a word or phrase indicate _italics_ - in the original text. - The carat character “^” is used to designate a superscript. - Small capitals have been converted to SOLID capitals. - Old or antiquated spellings have been preserved. - Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations - in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] The best summary of the benefits which the Christian religion has -historically wrought for mankind is, I think, to be found in that -eloquent book “Gesta Christi,” by the great American philanthropist, -Mr. Charles Brace. - -The author has made no attempt to delineate the shadowy side of the -glowing picture, the evils of superstition and persecution wherewith -men have marred those benefits. - -[2] He says: “The leading doctrines of theology are noble and -glorious;” and he acknowledges that people who were able to accept them -are “ennobled by their creed.” They are “carried above and beyond the -petty side of life; and if the virtue of propositions depended, not -upon the evidence by which they may be supported, but their intrinsic -beauty and utility, they might vindicate their creed against all -others” (p. 917). To some of us the notion of “noble and glorious” -_fictions_ is difficult to accept. The highest thought of our poor -minds, whatever it be, has surely _as such_ some presumption in favor -of its truth. - -[3] “Agnostic Morality,” CONTEMPORARY REVIEW, June, 1883. - -[4] British tonnage increased from 4,272,962 in 1850 to 5,710,968 in -1860; American tonnage from 3,485,266 in 1850 to 5,297,177 in 1860. -On the 30th of June, 1883, twenty years after the civil war, American -tonnage stood at 4,235,487! - -[5] “The poet doubtless here refers to his Priory of St. -Cosme-en-l’Isle; of which, Duperron, in his funeral oration on Ronsard, -has said: ‘This Priory is placed in a very agreeable situation on the -banks of the river Loire, surrounded by thickets, streams, and all -the natural beauties which embellish Touraine, of which it is, as it -were, the eye and the charm.’ Ronsard, in fact, returned thither to -die.”—Sainte-Beuve, ‘Poésie Française au XVI^e. Siècle’ (Paris, 1869), -p. 307. - -[6] I give a brief sketch of this in my book, “La Prusse et l’Autriche -depuis Sadowa,” vol. i., p. 265. - -[7] “It is absolutely necessary for Dalmatia to become connected -with Bosnia. As a Montenegrin guide one day remarked to Miss Muir -Mackenzie, ‘Dalmatia without Bosnia, is like a face without a head, -and Bosnia without Dalmatia is a head without a face.’ There being no -communication between the Dalmatian ports and the inland villages, -the former with their fine names are but unimportant little towns -stripped of all their former splendor. For instance, Ragusa, formerly -an independent Republic, has a population of 6,000 inhabitants; Zara -9,000; Zebeniko 6,000; and Cattaro, situated in the most lovely bay in -Europe, and with a natural basin sufficiently spacious to accommodate -the navy of all Europe, has but 2,078 inhabitants. In several of -these impoverished cities, beggars have taken up their abode in the -ancient palaces of the princes of commerce, and the lion of St. Mark -overlooks these buildings falling into ruins. This coast, which has -the misfortune to adjoin a Turkish province, will never regain its -former position until good roads and railways have been constructed -between its splendid ports and the fertile inland territory, whose -productiveness is at present essentially hampered by the vilest -imaginable administration.”—_La Prusse et l’Autriche depuis Sadowa_, -ii. p. 151. 1868. - -[8] Lives of the Archbishops, iii, 76. - -[9] Camden’s Britannia. - -[10] Church History, Book IV. I. - -[11] Ibid., Book III. century xiii. - -[12] Causa Dei—the title of Bradwardine’s great work. - -[13] A Catalogue of the Bishops of England, by Francis Godwin, now -Bishop of Landaff: 1615. - -[14] Cotton’s Abridgment of Records, p. 102, quoted by Lewis, in his -Life of Wycliffe, p. 19. - -[15] See Milman’s Latin Christianity, Book XIII. chap. vi, and the -document itself as given in the Appendix (No. 30) to the Life of -Wycliffe, by Lewis. - -[16] See Lewis’s Life of Wycliffe, p. 55, and Foxe’s Acts and -Monuments, vol. i. p. 584. - -[17] The date of this meeting has not been determined with certainty. - -[18] Fuller‘s Church History, Book IV. cent. xiv. - -[19] Milton‘s Speech for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing. - -[20] Milman‘s Latin Christianity, Book XIII. chap. iv. - -[21] See the Document itself in Lewis‘s Life of Wycliffe, pp. 59-67. - -[22] Shirley‘s Introduction to Fasciculi Zizaniorum, p. 49. - -[23] Wycliffe‘s Place in History, by Professor Burrows, p. 101. - -[24] Trialogus, iv. cap. ii., Oxford, p. 248. - -[25] See these as given by Lewis—Conclusiones J. Wiclefi de Sacramento -Altaris, Appendix No. 19, p. 318, ed. 1820. - -[26] Confessio Magistri Johannes Wycclyff. See Appendix No. 21 in -Lewis. Of this confession the concluding words are—“Credo, quod -finaliter veritas vincet eos.” - -[27] Lechler‘s John Wycliffe and his Precursors, vol. ii. p. 193. - -[28] Latin Christianity, Book XIII. chap. vi. - -[29] “How Servants and Lords shall keep their degrees.” See Lewis, pp. -224, 225. - -[30] Godwin’s Catalogue of the Bishops of England, 1615. - -[31] Cromp became some time after this a zealous preacher of the -doctrines maintained by Wycliffe. - -[32] See Milman. See also the Petition itself in Select English Works -of John Wycliffe, vol. iii. edited by Thomas Arnold. - -[33] Godwin’s Catalogue of the Bishops of England. - -[34] Fuller’s Church History, Book IV. cent. xiv. - -[35] Wycliffe’s Latin Works, edited for the Wycliffe Society by Dr. -Buddensieg, vol. ii. pp. 555, 556. - -[36] Introduction to Fasc. Zizan., p. 44. - -[37] In so far as the printing of this work is concerned, the reproach -of England was wiped off by the Clarendon Press in 1869; but it was a -German, Dr. Lechler, who edited this great work, the “Trialogus.” - -[38] Shirley, Introduction to Fasc. Zizan., p. 47. - -[39] Shirley’s Catalogue of the Original Works of John Wycliffe. -Preface, p. 6, Oxford: 1865. - -[40] Milman’s Latin Christianity, Book XIII. chap. vi. - -[41] Illustrium Majoris Britanniæ Scriptorum Summarium in Quasdam -Centurias Divisum. - -[42] Select English Works of John Wycliffe. Introduction, vol. iii. - -[43] This is the first of “the most rare and refined works” that -collectively make ‘The Phœnix Nest,’ published in 1593. Reprinted in -vol. ii. of ‘Heliconia,’ edited by T. Park, 1815. The preface bears a -marked resemblance to the famous epilogue to 2 Henry IV. - -[44] Shirley: Preface to a Catalogue of the Original Works of John -Wycliffe. The “Trialogus” must have been written, some have it, between -1382 and 1384. This is shown by Vaughan and Lechler. - -[45] Knighton, quoted by Dr. Buddensieg. - -[46] The Holy Bible, containing the Old and New Testaments, with the -Apocryphal Books, in the earliest English versions, made from the Latin -Vulgate, by John Wycliffe and his followers. Edited by the Rev. Josiah -Forshall and Sir Frederick Madden. In four volumes. Oxford—at the -University Press: 1850. - -[47] Bar. iii. 20. The last words are “in place of them. The young...” -rendered in the Geneva version—“Other men are come up in their steads. -When they were young they saw the light.” - -[48] Forshall and Madden’s edition of Wycliffe’s Bible. Preface, -pp. 17, 18. - -[49] Godwin’s Catalogue of the Bishops of England. - -[50] Fuller, Book IV. cent. xv. - -[51] Wycliffe and Hus. From the German of Dr. Johann Loserth, Professor -of History at the University of Czernowitz. 1884. - -[52] Luther’s Preface to the Letters of Hus. - -[53] See Epilogue to Henry IV. Part II. - -[54] Hallam’s Constitutional History of England, chap. ii. 57, 58, -6th ed. - -[55] Knox’s History of the Reformation in Scotland, being volume first -of his Works, collected and edited by David Laing. Edinburgh, 1846. - -[56] Shirley’s Introduction to Fasc. Zizan., pp. 45, 46. - -[57] Speed’s Chronicle, p. 672—ed. 1632. - -[58] Preface to A Catalogue of the Original Works of John Wycliffe: -1865. - -[59] M’Crie’s Life of John Knox, Period I. - -[60] Milton, Paradise Lost, Book VI. - -[61] _A True Account of the Rye House Plot_, by Thomas Sprat, Bishop of -Rochester, 1685. - -[62] _State papers, Charles II._, June 1683—“A Particular Account of -the Situation of the Rye House.” - -[63] _Rye House Papers._ Examination of Robert West of the Middle -Temple. A special collection among the State Papers. It may be -remembered that when this collection was examined an original treatise -of Milton was discovered among the documents—a find which led to -Macaulay’s essay on Milton. - -[64] _Rye House Papers._ Examination of Josiah Keeling and Robert West. - -[65] Ibid. - -[66] _Rye House Papers._ Examination of Josiah Keeling and Robert West. - -[67] Ibid. - -[68] _Rye House Papers._ Examination of Josiah Keeling and Robert West. - -[69] Ibid. Examination of Thomas Shepherd. - -[70] Rye House Papers. Examination of Robert West and Josiah Keeling. - -[71] _Rye House Papers._ Examination of Robert West and Zachary Bourn. - -[72] _Rye House Papers._ Examination of Lord Howard, Alexander Gordon, -and Robert West. - -[73] _Rye House Papers._ Examination of Col. Romsey and Robert West. - -[74] He was in fact a “recluse” in the ancient and proper sense of -the term. For in the Bishop’s time it still remained customary, after -an imposing ceremony, literally to seal and shut up by the hands of -a bishop those—men or women—who elected to be recluses, in a small -chamber built for the purpose close to the wall of some church with -an opening inwards that the immured tenant might hear the service and -receive necessary subsistence. We are told, for example, by St. Foix -that Agnes de Rochier, the beautiful daughter of a rich tradesman, -commenced such a life at the church of St. Opportune, in Paris, on the -5th of October, 1403, and though then of only eighteen years, lived in -this hermetic state till the ripe enough age of eighty. - -[75] It was observed by Scott of Amwell, a critic of the verbal school, -but not without his soundness, and junior to Collins by nine years, -that the Oriental Eclogues, which appeared in 1742, were “always -possessed of considerable reputation,” till Johnson “having hinted -that Collins, once in conversation with a friend, happened to term -them his _Irish_ Eclogues, those who form opinions not from their own -reason or their own feelings, but from the hints of others,” caught the -hint and circulated it. “That Collins,” he adds, “ever supposed his -eclogues destitute of merit there is no reason to believe; but it is -very probable, when his judgment was improved by experience, he might -discover and be hurt by their faults, among which may possibly be found -some few instances of inconsistence or absurdity.” - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eclectic Magazine of Foreign -Literature, Science, and Art, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ECLECTIC MAGAZINE *** - -***** This file should be named 53228-0.txt or 53228-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/2/2/53228/ - -Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Paul Marshall and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/53228-0.zip b/old/53228-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 14c806d..0000000 --- a/old/53228-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53228-h.zip b/old/53228-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 72c7c96..0000000 --- a/old/53228-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53228-h/53228-h.htm b/old/53228-h/53228-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 8ecf457..0000000 --- a/old/53228-h/53228-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11143 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Eclectic Magazine of Foreign Literature, Science, and Art, - Published by E.R. Pelton. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -h1 {page-break-before: always; } -h2 {page-break-before: avoid;} - -h1.non-vis {visibility: hidden;} - -p { margin-top: .51em; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.5em; margin-bottom: .49em; } -p.no-indent { margin-top: .51em; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0em; margin-bottom: .49em;} -p.indent { text-indent: 1.5em;} -p.author { margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 5%; text-align: right;} -p.big_indent { text-indent: 2.5em;} -p.f90 { font-size: 90%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -p.f110 { font-size: 110%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -p.f120 { font-size: 120%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -p.f150 { font-size: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } - -.space-above1 { margin-top: 1em; } -.space-above3 { margin-top: 3em; } - -.space-below1 { margin-bottom: 1em; } -.space-below2 { margin-bottom: 2em; } -.space-below3 { margin-bottom: 3em; } - -.s150 { font-size: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } - -hr.r25 {width: 25%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em; - margin-left: 37.5%; margin-right: 37.5%; } -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%; } - -ul.index { list-style-type: none; } -li.ifrst { margin-top: 1em; } -li.isub1 {text-indent: 1em;} -li.isub2 {text-indent: 2em;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - - .tdl {text-align: left;} - .tdr {text-align: right;} - .tdc {text-align: center;} - -.pagenum { - visibility: hidden; - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; -} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 15%; -} - -.bbox {border: solid 2px;} -.center {text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; } -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -img {max-width: 100%; height: auto;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - -.poetry-container { text-align: center; } -.poem { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; } -.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} - - .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 0.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 1.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i20 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i22 {display: block; margin-left: 11em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i25 {display: block; margin-left: 12.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - -@media handheld - { .pagenum {display:none;} - .poem {display: block;}} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Eclectic Magazine of Foreign Literature, -Science, and Art, February, 1885, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Eclectic Magazine of Foreign Literature, Science, and Art, February, 1885 - -Author: Various - -Release Date: October 7, 2016 [EBook #53228] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ECLECTIC MAGAZINE *** - - - - -Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Paul Marshall and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<p class="f90">The cover image was created by the transcriber, and is in the public domain.</p> - -<h1 class="non-vis">ECLECTIC MAGAZINE OF FOREIGN LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART.</h1> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/masthead.jpg" alt="masthead" width="600" height="395" /> -</div> -<hr class="r25" /> -<table border="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Masthead" cellpadding="0"> - <tbody><tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>New Series.</b></td> - <td class="tdc" rowspan="2"><img src="images/cbr-3.jpg" alt="_" width="16" height="57" /></td> - <td class="tdc s150" rowspan="2">  <b>FEBRUARY, 1885.</b>  </td> - <td class="tdc" rowspan="2"><img src="images/cbl-3.jpg" alt="_" width="16" height="57" /></td> - <td class="tdl"><b>Old Series complete</b></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdr"><b>Vol. XLI., No. 2.</b></td> - <td class="tdl"><b>in 63 vols.</b></td> - </tr> - </tbody> -</table> -<hr class="r25" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> -<h2>A FAITHLESS WORLD.</h2> - -<p class="center space-below1">BY FRANCES POWER COBBE.</p> - -<p>A little somnolence seems to have overtaken religious controversy -of late. We are either weary of it or have grown so tolerant of our -differences that we find it scarcely worth while to discuss them. By -dint of rubbing against each other in the pages of the Reviews, in the -clubs, and at dinner parties, the sharp angles of our opinions have -been smoothed down. Ideas remain in a fluid state in this temperate -season of sentiment, and do not, as in old days, crystallize into -sects. We have become almost as conciliatory respecting our views as -the Chinese whom Huc describes as carrying courtesy so far as to praise -the religion of their neighbors and depreciate their own. “You, honored -sir,” they were wont to say, “are of the noble and lofty religion of -Confucius. I am of the poor and insignificant religion of Lao-tze.” -Only now and then some fierce controversialist, hailing usually from -India or the colonies where London amenities seem not yet to have -penetrated, startles us by the desperate earnestness wherewith he -disproves what we had almost forgotten that anybody seriously believes.</p> - -<p>As a result of the general “laissez <i>croire</i>” of our day, it has come -to pass that a question has been mooted which, to our fathers, would -have seemed preposterous: “Is it of any consequence what we believe, -or whether we believe anything? Suppose that by-and-by we all arrive -at the conclusion that Religion has been altogether a mistake, and -renounce with one accord the ideas of God and Heaven, having (as M. -Comte assures us) outgrown the theological stage of human progress; -what then? Will it make any serious difference to anybody?” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> - -<p>Hitherto, thinkers of Mr. Bradlaugh’s type have sung pæans of welcome -for the expected golden years of Atheism, when “faiths and empires” will</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">“Gleam</span> -<span class="i0">Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Christians and Theists of all schools, on the other hand, have -naturally deprecated with horror and dread such a cataclysm of faith -as sure to prove a veritable Ragnarok of universal ruin. In either -case it has been taken for granted that the change from a world of -little faith, like that in which we live, to a world wholly destitute -of faith, would be immensely great and far-reaching; and that at the -downfall of religion not only would the thrones and temples of the -earth, but every homestead in every land, be shaken to its foundation. -It is certainly a step beyond any yet taken in the direction of -scepticism to question this conclusion, and maintain that such a -revolution would be of trivial import, since things would go on with -mankind almost as well without a God as with one.</p> - -<p>The man who, with characteristic downrightness, has blurted out most -openly this last doubt of all—the doubt whether doubt be an evil—is, -as my readers will have recognized, Mr. Justice Stephen. In the -concluding pages of one of his sledge-hammerings on the heads of his -adversaries, in the <i>Nineteenth Century</i> for last June, he rung the -changes upon the idea (with some reservations, to be presently noted) -as follows:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot">“If human life is in the course of being fully -described by science, I do not see what materials there are for any -religion, or, indeed, what would be the use of one, or why it is -wanted. We can get on very well without one, for though the view of -life which science is opening to us gives us nothing to worship, it -gives us an infinite number of things to enjoy.... The world seems to -me a very good world, if it would only last. It is full of pleasant -people and curious things, and I think that most men find no great -difficulty in turning their minds away from its transient character. -Love, friendship, ambition, science, literature, art, politics, -commerce, professions, trades, and a thousand other matters, will go -equally well, as far as I can see, whether there is, or is not, a God -or a future state.”—<i>Nineteenth Century</i>, No. 88, p. 917.</p> - -<p>Had these noteworthy words been written by an obscure individual, -small weight would have attached to them. We might have observed on -reading them that the—not wise—person who three thousand -years ago “said in his heart, there is no God,” had in the interval -plucked up courage to say in the magazines that it does not signify -whether there be one or not. But the dictum comes to us from a -gentleman who happens to be the very antithesis of the object of -Solomon’s detestation, a man of distinguished ability and unsullied -character, of great knowledge of the world (as revealed to successful -lawyers), of almost abnormal clear-headedness; and lastly, strangest -anomaly of all! who is the representative of a family in which the -tenderest and purest type of Protestant piety has long been hereditary. -It is the last utterance of the devout “Clapham School,” of Venn, -Stephen, Hannah More and Wilberforce, which we hear saying: “I think we -could do very well without religion.”</p> - -<p>As it is a widely received idea just now that the Evolution theory is -destined to coil about religion till it strangle it, and as it has -become the practice with the scientific party to talk of religion as -politicians twenty years ago talked of Turkey, as a Sick Man destined -to a speedy dissolution, it seems every way desirable that we should -pay the opinion of Sir James Stephen on this head that careful -attention to which, indeed, everything from his pen has a claim. Those -amongst us who have held that Religion is of priceless value should -bring their prepossessions in its favor to the bar of sober judgment, -and fairly face this novel view of it as neither precious Truth nor -yet disastrous Error, but as an unimportant matter of opinion which -Science may be left to settle without anxiety as to the issue. We ought -to bring our Treasure to assay, and satisfy ourselves once for all -whether it be really pure gold or only a fairy substitute for gold, to -be transformed some day into a handful of autumn leaves and scattered to the winds. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> - -<p>To estimate the part played by Religion in the past history of the -human race would be a gigantic undertaking immeasurably above my -ambition.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -A very much simpler inquiry is that which I propose to pursue: -namely, one into the chief consequences which might be anticipated -to follow the downfall of such Religion, as at present prevails in -civilized Europe and America. When these consequences have been, -however imperfectly, set in array we shall be in a position to form -some opinion whether we “can do very well without religion.” Let me -premise:—</p> - -<p class="big_indent">1. That by the word Religion I mean definite faith in a -Living and Righteous God; and, as a corollary therefrom, in the survival of the -human soul after death. In other words, I mean by “religion” that -nucleus of simple Theism which is common to every form of natural -religion, of Christianity and Judaism; and, of course, in a measure -also to remoter creeds, which will not be included in the present -purview. Further, I do <i>not</i> mean Positivism, or Agnosticism, or -Buddhism, exoteric or esoteric; or the recognition of the “Unknown -and Unknowable,” or of a “Power not ourselves which makes for -righteousness.” These may, or may not, be fitly termed “religions;” but -it is not the results of their triumph or extinction which we are here -concerned to estimate. I shall even permit myself generally to refer to -all such phases of non-belief as involve denial of the dogmas of Theism -above-stated as “Atheism;” not from discourtesy, but because it would -be impossible at every point to distinguish them, and because, for the -purposes of the present argument, they are tantamount to Atheism.</p> - -<p class="big_indent">2. That I absolve myself from weighing against the advantages -of Religion the evils which have followed its manifold corruptions. Those -evils, in the case even of the Christian religion, I recognize to have -been so great, so hideous, that during their prevalence it might have -been plausibly—though even then, I think, not truly—contended that -they out-balanced its benefits. But the days of the worst distortions -of Christianity have long gone by. The Christianity of our day tends, -as it appears to me, more and more to resume the character of the -<i>Religion of Christ</i>, <i>i.e.</i>, the religion which Christ believed -and lived; and to reject that other and very different religion which -men have taught in Christ’s name. As this deep and silent but vast -change comes over the spirit of the Christianity of modern Europe, it -becomes better and better qualified to meet fearlessly the challenge, -“Should we do well without religion in its Christian shape?” But it is -not my task here to analyze the results of any one type of religion, -Christian, Jewish, or simply Theistic; but only to register those of -<i>Religion itself</i>, as I have defined it above, namely, faith in -God and in immortality.</p> - -<p>I confess, at starting on this inquiry, that the problem “Is religion -of use, or can we do as well without it?” seems to me almost as -grotesque as the old story of the woman who said that we owe vast -obligation to the Moon, which affords us light on dark nights, -whereas we are under no such debt to the Sun, who only shines by day, -<i>when there is always light</i>. Religion has been to us so diffused a -light that it is quite possible to forget how we came by the general -illumination, save when now and then it has blazed out with special -brightness. On the other hand, all the moon-like things which are -proposed to us as substitutes for Religion,—friendship, science, -art, commerce, and politics,—have a very limited area wherein they -shine at all, and leave the darkness around much as they found it. -It is the special and unique character of Religion to deal with the -whole of human nature <i>all</i> our pleasures and pains and duties and -affections and hopes and fears, here and hereafter. It offers to the -Intellect an explanation of the universe (true or false we need not -now consider); and, pointing to Heaven, it responds to the most eager -of its questions. It offers to the Conscience a law claiming authority -to regulate every act and every word. And it offers to the Heart an -absolutely love-worthy Being as the object of its adoration. Whether -these immense offers of Religion are all genuine, or all accepted by us -individually, they are quite unmatched by anything which science, or -art, or politics, or commerce, or even friendship, has to bestow. The -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> -relation of religion to us is not one-sided like theirs, but universal, -ubiquitous; not moon-like, appearing at intervals, but sun-like, -forming the source, seen or unseen, of all our light and heat, even -of the warmth of our household fires. Strong or weak as may be its -influence on us as individuals, it is the greatest thing with which -we have to do, from the cradle to the grave. And this holds good -whether we give ourselves up to it or reject it. It is the one great -acceptance, or “<i>il gran rifiuto</i>.” Nothing equally great can come -in our way again.</p> - -<p>In an estimate of the consequences which would follow a general -rejection of religion, we are bound to take into view the two classes -of men—those who are devout and those who are not so—who would, -of course, be diversely affected by such a revolution of opinion. As -regards the first, every one will concede that the loss of so important -a factor in their lives would alter those lives radically. As regards -the second, after noting the orderly and estimable conduct of many -of them, the observer might, <i>per contra</i>, not unfairly surmise that -they would continue to act just as they do at present were religion -universally exploded. But ere such a conclusion could be legitimately -drawn from the meritorious lives of non-religious men in the present -order of society, we should be allowed (it is a familiar remark) to -see the behavior of a whole nation of Atheists. Our contemporaries are -no more fair samples of the outcome of Atheism than a little party -of English youths who had lived for a few years in Central Africa -would be samples of Negroes. It would take several thousand years to -make a full-blooded Atheist out of the scion of forty generations of -Christians. Our whole mental constitutions have been built up on food -of religious ideas. A man on a mountain top, might as well resolve -not to breathe the ozone in the air, as to live in the intellectual -atmosphere of England and inhale no Christianity.</p> - -<p>As, then, it is impossible to forecast what would be the consequences -of universal Atheism hereafter by observing the conduct of individual -Atheists to-day, all that can be done is to study bit by bit the -changes which must take place should this planet ever become, as is -threatened, a <i>Faithless World</i>. In pursuing this line of inquiry it -will be well to remember that every ill result of loss of faith and -hope which we may now observe will be <i>cumulative</i> as a larger and -yet larger number of persons, and at last the whole community, reject -religion together. Atheists have been hitherto like children playing -at the mouth of a cavern of unknown depth. They have run in and out, -and explored it a little way, but always within sight of the daylight -outside, where have stood their parents and friends calling on them to -return. Not till the way back to the sunshine has been lost will the -darkness of that cave be fully revealed.</p> - -<p>I shall now register very briefly the more obvious and tangible changes -which would follow the downfall of religion in Europe and America, and -then devote my available space to a rather closer examination of those -which are less manifest; the drying up of those hidden rills which now -irrigate the whole subsoil of our civilization.</p> - -<p class="space-above3">The first visible change in the Faithless World, of course, -would be the suppression of Public and Private Worship and of Preaching; the -secularization or destruction everywhere of Cathedrals, Churches, and -Chapels; and the extinction of the Clerical Profession. A considerable -<i>hiatus</i> would undoubtedly be thus made in the present order of things. -Public Worship and Preaching, however much weariness of the flesh -has proverbially attended them, have, to say the least, done much to -calm, to purify, and to elevate the minds of millions; nor does it -seem that any multiplication of scientific Lectures or Penny Readings -would form a substitute for them. The effacement from each landscape -of the towers and spires of the churches would be a somewhat painful -symbol of the simultaneous disappearance from human life of heavenly -hope and aspiration. The extinction of the Ministry of Religion, though -it would be hailed even now by many as a great reformation, would be -found practically, I apprehend, to reduce by many perceptible degrees -the common moral level; and to suppress many highly-aimed activities -with which we could ill dispense. The severity of the strictures always -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> -passed on the faults of clergymen testifies to the general expectation, -not wholly disappointed, that they should exhibit a loftier standard -of life than other men; and the hortative and philanthropic work -accomplished by the forty or fifty thousand ministers of the various -sects and churches in England alone, must form, after all deductions, -a sum of beneficence which it would sorely tax any conceivable secular -organization to replace in the interests of public morality.</p> - -<p>Probably the Seventh Day Rest would survive every other religious -institution in virtue of its popularity among the working classes, soon -to be everywhere masters of legislation. The failure of the Tenth Day -holiday in the first French Revolution would also forestall any further -experiments in varying the hebdomadal interval so marvellously adapted -to our mental and physical constitution. As, however, all religious -meaning of the day would be lost, and all church-going stopped, -nothing would hinder the employment of its hours from morning to night -as Easter Monday and Whit Monday are now employed by the millions in -our great cities. The nation would, therefore, enjoy the somewhat -doubtful privilege of keeping fifty-six Bank Holidays instead of four -in the year. Judicial and official oaths of all sorts, and Marriage -and Burial rites, would, of course, be entirely abolished. A gentleman -pronouncing the <i>Oraison Funèbre</i> outside the crematorium would replace -the old white-robed parson telling the mourners;—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">“Beneath the churchyard tree,</span> -<span class="i0">In solemn tones, and yet not sad,</span> -<span class="i0">Of what man is, what man shall be.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Another change more important than any of these, in Protestant -countries, would be the reduction of the Bible to the rank of an -historical and literary curiosity. Nothing (as we all recognize) but -the supreme religious importance attached to the Hebrew Scriptures -could have forced any book into the unique position which the Bible -has now held for three centuries in English and Scottish education. -Even that held by the Koran throughout Islam is far less remarkable, -inasmuch as the latter (immeasurably inferior though it be) is the -supreme work of the national literature, whereas we have adopted the -literature of an alien race. All the golden fruit which the English -intellect has borne from Shakespeare downwards may be said to have -grown on this priceless Semitic graft upon the Aryan stem.</p> - -<p>But as nothing but its religious interest, over and above its -historical and poetical value, could have given the Bible its present -place amongst us, so the rejection of religion must quickly lower its -popularity by a hundred degrees. Notwithstanding anything which the -Matthew Arnolds of the future may plead on behalf of its glorious -poetry and mines of wisdom, the youth of the future “Faithless World” -will spare very little time from their scientific studies to read a -book brimming over with religious sentiments which to them will be -nauseous. Could everything else remain unchanged after the extinction -of religion in England, it seems to me that the unravelling of this -Syrian thread from the very tissue of our minds will altogether alter -their texture.</p> - -<p>Whether the above obvious and tangible results of a general -relinquishment of religion would all be <i>disadvantageous</i> may, -possibly, be an open question. That they would be <i>trifling</i>, and that -things would go on much as they have done after they had taken place, -seems to me, I confess, altogether incredible.</p> - -<p>I now turn to those less obvious consequences of the expected downfall -of religion which would take place silently.</p> - -<p>The first of these would be the <i>belittling</i> of life. Religion has been -to us hitherto (to rank it at its lowest), like a great mountain in -a beautiful land. When the clouds descend and hide the mountain, the -grandeur of the scene is gone. A stranger entering that land at such -a time will commend the sweetness of the vales and woods; but those -who know it best will say, “Ichabod!—The glory has departed.” To do -justice to the eminent man whose opinion concerning the practical -unimportance of religion I am endeavoring to combat, he has seen -clearly and frankly avowed this ennobling influence of religion, and, -as a corollary, would, I presume, admit the <i>minifying</i> consequences of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> -its general abandonment.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> -If the window which Religion opens out on the infinite expanse of God -and Heaven, immeasurably enlarges and lightens our abode of clay, -the walling of it up cannot fail to narrow and darken it beyond all -telling. Human nature, ever pulled two ways by downward and by aspiring -tendencies, cannot afford to lose all the aid which religious ideas -offer to its upward flight. Only when they disappear will men perceive -how the two thoughts—of this world as <i>God’s world</i>, and of -ourselves as Immortal beings,—have, between them, lighted up in -rainbow hues the dull plains of earth. When they fade away, all things, -Nature, Art, Duty, Love, and Death, will seem to grow grey and cold. -Everything which casts a glamour over life will be gone.</p> - -<p>Even from the point of view of Art (of which in these days perhaps too -much is made), life will lose <i>poetry</i> if it lose religion. Nothing -ever stirs our sympathies like it, or like a glimpse into the inner -self of our brother man, as affected by repentance, hope, and prayer. -The great genius, of George Eliot revealed this to her; and, Agnostic -as she was, she rarely failed to strike this resonant string of human -nature, as in “Adam Bede,” “Silas Marner,” and “Janet’s Repentance.” -French novelists who have no knowledge of it, and who describe the -death of a man as they might do that of an ox, while they galvanize our -imaginations, rarely touch the outer hem of our sympathies. Religion -in its old anthropomorphic forms was the great inspirer of sculpture, -painting, poetry, science, and almost the creator of architecture. -Phidias, Dante, Michael Angelo, Raphael, Milton, Handel, and the -builders of the Egyptian temples and mediæval cathedrals, were all -filled with the religious spirit, nor can we imagine what they would -have been without it. In the purer modern types of religion, while -music and architecture would still remain in its direct service, we -should expect painting and sculpture to be less immediately concerned -with it than in old days, because unable to touch such purely spiritual -ideas. But the elevation, aspiration, and reverence which have their -root in religion must continue to inspire those arts likewise, or -they will fall into triviality on one side (as there seems danger in -England), or into obscene materialism on the other, as is already -annually exemplified on the walls of the Paris <i>Salon</i>.</p> - -<p>Again, it will not merely belittle life, it will <i>carnalize</i> it to -take Religion out of it. The lump without the leaven will be grosser -and heavier than we have dreamed. Civilization, as we all know, bore -under Imperial Rome, and may assume again any day, the hateful type in -which luxury and cruelty, art and sensuality, go hand in hand. That it -ever changed its character and has come to mean with us refinement, -self-restraint, chivalry, and freedom from the coarser vices, is surely -due to the fact that it has grown up <i>pari passu</i> with Christianity. -In truth it needs no argument to prove that, as the bestial tendencies -in us have scarcely been kept down while we believed ourselves to be -immortal souls, they will have it still more their own way when we feel -assured we are only mortal bodies.</p> - -<p>And the life thus belittled and carnalized will be a more cowardly -life than men have been wont to lead while they had a Providence over -them and a heaven waiting for them. Already, I fear, we may see some -signs of this new poltroonery of reflective prudence, which holds that -death is the greatest of all evils, and disease the next greatest; -and teaches men to prefer a “whole skin” to honor and patriotism, and -health to duty. Writing of this Hygeiolatry elsewhere, I have remarked -that it has almost come to be accepted as a canon of morals that any -practice which, in the opinion of experts, conduces to bodily health, -or tends to the cure of disease, becomes <i>ipso facto</i> lawful; and -that there are signs apparent that this principle is bearing fruit, -and that men and women are beginning to be systematically selfish and -self-indulgent where their health is concerned, in modes not hitherto -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> -witnessed. In public life it is notorious that whenever a Bill comes -before Parliament concerning itself with sanitary matters there is -exhibited by many of the speakers, and by the journalists who discuss -it, a readiness to trample on personal and parental rights in a way -forming a new feature in English legislation, and well deserving of -the rebuke it has received from Mr. Herbert Spencer. As to military -courage, I fear it will also wane amongst us, as it seemed to have -waned amongst the French atheistic soldiery at Metz and Sedan. Great as -are the evils of war, those of a peace only maintained by the nations -because it had become no longer possible to raise troops who would -stand fire, would be immeasurably worse.</p> - -<p>From the general results on the community, I now pass to consider those -on the life of the individual which may be expected to follow the -collapse of Religion.</p> - -<p>Mr. Mallock in his “New Republic,” made the original and droll remark -that even Vice would lose much of its savor were there no longer any -morality against which it might sin. As Morality will probably not -expire—though its vigor must be considerably reduced—by the demise -of its Siamese twin, Religion, it would seem that Vice need not fear, -even in such a contingency, the entire loss of the pleasures of -disobedience. Nevertheless (to speak seriously), it is pretty certain -that the temperature of all moral sentiments will fall so considerably -when the sun of religion ceases to warm them that not a few will perish -of cold. The “Faithless World” will pass through a moral Glacial -Period, wherein much of our present fauna and flora will disappear. -What, for example, can become, in that frigid epoch of godlessness, -of <i>Aspiration</i>, the sacred passion, the <i>ambition sainte</i> to become -perfect and holy, which has stirred at one time or other in the breast -of every son of God; the longing to attain the crowning heights of -truth, goodness, and purity? This is surely not a sentiment which can -live without faith in a Divine Perfection, existing somewhere in the -universe, and an Immortal Life wherein the infinite progress may be -carried on. Even the man whose opinions on the general unimportance of -religion I am venturing to question in these pages, admits frankly -enough that it is not the heroic or saintly character which will be -cultivated after the extinction of faith. Among the changes which he -anticipates, one will be that “the respectable man of the world, the -<i>lukewarm, nominal Christian</i>, who believed as much of his creed as -happened to suit him, and <i>led an easy life</i>, will turn out to have -been right after all,” Precisely so. The <i>easy life</i> will be the ideal -life in the “Faithless World;” and the life of Aspiration, the life -which is a prayer, will be lived no more. And the “lukewarm” men of the -world, in their “easy lives,” will be all the easier and more lukewarm -for leading them thenceforth unrebuked by any higher example.</p> - -<p>Again, Repentance as well as aspiration will disappear under the -snows of atheism. I have written before on this subject in this -<span class="smcap">Review</span>,<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> -and will now briefly say that Mr. Darwin’s almost ludicrously false -definition of Repentance is an illustration of the inability of the -modern scientific mind to comprehend spiritual phenomena; much less to -be the subject of them. In his <i>Descent of Man</i>, this great thinker -and most amiable man describes Repentance as a natural return, after -the satisfaction of selfish passions, to “the instinct of sympathy and -good will to his fellows which is still present and ever in some degree -active” in a man’s mind.... “And then, a sense of dissatisfaction -will inevitably be felt” (<i>Descent of Man</i>, p. 90). Thus even on the -showing of the great philosopher of evolution himself, Repentance (or -rather the “dissatisfaction” he confounds with that awful convulsion -of the soul) is only to be looked for under the very exceptional -circumstances of men in whom the “instinct of sympathy and good will to -their fellows” is ever present, and moreover <i>reasserts itself after -they have injured them</i>—in flat opposition to ordinary human -experience as noted by Tacitus, <i>Humani generis proprium est odisse quem læseris</i>. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> - -<p>The results of the real spiritual phenomenon of Repentance (not Mr. -Darwin’s child’s-play) are so profound and far-reaching that it cannot -but happen that striking them out of human experience will leave -life more shallow. No soul will survive with the deeper and riper -character which comes out of that ordeal. As Hawthorne illustrated it -in his exquisite parable of <i>Transformation</i>, men, till they become -conscious of sin, are morally little more than animals. Out of hearts -ploughed by contrition spring flowers fairer than ever grow on the -hard ground of unbroken self-content. There bloom in them Sympathy -and Charity for other erring mortals; and Patience under suffering -which is acknowledged to be merited; and lastly, sweetest blossom of -all! tender Gratitude for earthly and heavenly blessings felt to be -free gifts of Divine love. Not a little, perhaps, of the prevalent -disease of pessimism is owing to the fact that these flowers of -charity, patience, and thankfulness are becoming more and more rare as -cultivated men cease to feel what old theologians used to call “the -exceeding sinfulness of sin;” or to pass through any vivid experiences -of penitence and restoration. As a necessary consequence they never -see the true proportions of good and evil, joy and grief, sin and -retribution. They weigh jealously human Pain; they never place human -Guilt in the opposite scale. There is little chance that any man will -ever feel how sinful is sin, who has not seen it in the white light of -the holiness of God.</p> - -<p>The abrogation of Public Worship was mentioned above as one of the -visible consequences of the general rejection of religion. To it must -here be added a still direr and deeper loss, that of the use of Private -Prayer—whether for spiritual or other good, either on behalf of -ourselves or of others; all Confession, all Thanksgiving, in one word -all effort at communion of the finite spirit with the Infinite. This is -not the place in which this subject can be treated as it would require -to be were the full consequences of such a cessation of the highest -function of our nature to be defined. It may be enough now to say that -the Positivists in their fantastic device of addresses to the <i>grand -être</i> of Humanity as a substitute for real prayer to the Living God, -have themselves testified to the smaller—the subjective—part of -the value of the practice. Alas for our poor human race if ever the day -should arrive when to Him who now “heareth prayer,” flesh shall no longer come!</p> - -<p>With Aspiration, Repentance, and Prayer renounced and forgotten, and -the inner life made as “easy” as the outward, we may next inquire -whether in the “Faithless World” the relations between man and man -will either remain what they have been, improve or deteriorate? I have -heard a secularist lecturer argue that the love of God has been a -great hindrance to the love of man; and I believe it is the universal -opinion of Agnostics and Comtists that the “enthusiasm of Humanity” -will flourish and form the crowning glory of the future after religion -is dead. It is obvious, indeed, that the social virtues are rapidly -eclipsing in public opinion those which are personal and religious; and -if Philanthropy is not to be enthroned in the “Faithless World,” there -is no chance for Veracity, Piety, or Purity.</p> - -<p>But, not to go over ground which I have traversed already in this -<span class="smcap">Review</span>, it will be enough now to remark that -Mr. Justice Stephen, with his usual perspicacity, has found out that -there is here a “rift within the lute,” and frankly tells us that -we must not expect to see Christian Charity after the departure of -Christianity. He thinks that temperance, fortitude, benevolence, and -justice will always be honored and rewarded, but—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> “If a purely human morality takes the place of -Christian morals, self-command and self-denial, force of character -shown in postponing the present to the future (<i>qy.</i>, selfish -prudence?) will take the place of self-sacrifice as an object of -admiration. Love, friendship, good-nature, kindness, carried to the -height of sincere and devoted affection will always be the chief -pleasures of life, whether Christianity is true or false; but Christian -charity is not the same as any of these or of all of them put together, -and I think, if Christian theology were exploded, Christian charity -would not survive it.” </p> - -<p>Even if the same sentiment of charity were kept alive in a “Faithless -World,” I do not think its ministrations would be continued on the same -lines as hitherto. The more kind-hearted an atheist may be (and many -have the kindest of hearts) the less, I fancy, he could endure to go -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> -about as a comforter among the wretched and dying, bringing with him -only such cold consolation as may be afforded by the doctrine of the -“Survival of the Fittest.” Every one who has tried to lighten the -sorrows of this sad world, or to reclaim the criminal and the vicious, -knows how immense is the advantage of being able to speak of God’s love -and pity, and of a life where the bereaved shall be reunited to their -beloved ones. It would break, I should think, a compassionate atheist’s -heart to go from one to another death-bed in cottage or workhouse or -hospital, meet the yearning looks of the dying, and watch the anguish -of wife or husband or mother, and be unable honestly to say: “This is -not the end. There is Heaven in store.” But Mr. Justice Stephen speaks, -I apprehend, of another reason than this why Christian charity must -not be expected to survive Christianity. The truth is (though he does -not say it) that the charity of Science is not merely <i>different</i> from -the charity of Religion; it is an <i>opposite</i> thing altogether. Its -softest word is <i>Væ Victis</i>. Christianity (and like it I should hope -every possible form of future religion) says, “The strong ought to bear -the burdens of the weak. Blessed are the merciful, the unselfish, the -tender-hearted, the humble-minded.” Science says, “The supreme law of -Nature is the Survival of the Fittest; and that law, applied to human -morals, means the remorseless crushing down of the unfit. The strong -and the gifted shall inherit the earth, and the weak and simple go -to the wall. Blessed are the merciless, for they shall obtain useful -knowledge. Blessed are the self-asserting, for theirs is the kingdom of -this world, and there is no world after it.”</p> - -<p>These Morals of Evolution are beginning gradually to make their way, -and to be stated (of course in veiled and modest language) frequently -by those priests of science, the physiologists. Should they ever obtain -general acceptance, and Darwinian morality take the place of the Sermon -on the Mount, the old <i>droit du plus fort</i> of barbarous ages will be -revived with more deliberate oppression, and the last state of our -civilization will be worse than the first.</p> - -<p>Behind all these changes of public and general concern, lies the -deepest change of all for each man’s own heart. We are told that in -a “Faithless World” we may interest ourselves in friendship, and -politics, and commerce, and literature, science, and art, and that “a -man who cannot occupy every waking moment of a long life with some or -other of these things must be either very unfortunate in regard to his -health, or circumstances, or else must be a poor creature.”</p> - -<p>But it is not necessary to be either unfortunate oneself or a very -“poor creature” to feel that the wrongs and agonies of this world of -pain are absolutely intolerable unless we can be assured that they will -be righted hereafter; that “there is a God who judgeth the earth,” and -that all the oppressed and miserable of our race, aye, and even the -tortured brutes, are beheld by Him. It is, I think, on the contrary, -to be a “poor creature” to be able to satisfy the hunger of the soul -after justice, the yearning of the heart for mercy, with such pursuits -as money-getting, and scientific research, and the writing of clever -books, and painting of pretty pictures. Not that which is “poorest” in -us, but that which is richest and noblest, refuses to “occupy every -moment of a long life” with our own ambitions and amusements, or to -shut out deliberately from our minds the “Riddle of the painful Earth.” -A curse would be on us in our “lordly pleasure-house” were we to do it.</p> - -<p>Even if it be possible to enjoy our own good fortune regardless of -the woes of others, is it not rather a pitiful wreck and remnant of -merely selfish happiness which it is proposed to leave to us? “The -world,” we are told, “is full of pleasant people and curious things,” -and “most men find no difficulty in <i>turning their minds away</i> from -its transient character.” Even our enjoyment of “pleasant people and -curious things” must be held, then, on the condition of reducing -ourselves—philosophers that we are, or shall be—to the -humble level of the hares and rabbits!—</p> - -<p class="center space-above1 space-below1">“Regardless of their doom the little victims play.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> -Surely the happiness of any creature, deserving to be called Rational, -depends on the circumstance whether he can look on Good as “the final -goal of ill,” or believe Ill to be the final goal of any good he has -obtained or hopes for;—whether he walk on a firm, even if it be a -thorny road, or tread on thin, albeit glittering ice, destined ere long -to break beneath his feet? The faith that there is an <span class="smcap">Order</span> -tending everywhere to good, and that <span class="smcap">Justice</span> sooner or later -will be done to all,—this, almost universal, faith to which the -whole literature of the world bears testimony, seems to me no less -indispensable for our selfish happiness than it is for any unselfish -satisfaction in the aspect of human life at large. If it be finally -baulked, and we are compelled to relinquish it for ever at the bidding -of science, existence alike on our own account and that of others will -become unendurable.</p> - -<p>In all I have said hitherto, I have confined myself to discussing the -probable results of the downfall of religion on men in general, and -have not attempted to define what they would be to those who have been -fervently religious; and who we must suppose (on the hypothesis of -such a revolution) to be forcibly driven by scientific arguments out -of their faith in God and the life to come. To such persons (and there -are, alas! many already who think they have been so driven, and to whom -the sad result is therefore the same) the loss must needs be like that -of the darkening of the sun. Of all human sorrows the bitterest is to -discover that we have misplaced our love; labored and suffered in vain; -thrown away our heart’s devotion. All this, and much more, must it be -to <i>lose God</i>. Among those who have endured it there are, of course, as -we all know, many who have reconciled themselves to the loss, and some -tell us they are the happier. Yet, I think to the very last hour of -life there must remain in every heart which has once <i>loved</i> God (not -merely believed in or feared Him) an infinite regret if it can love Him -no more; and the universe, were it crowded with a million friends, must -seem empty when that Friend is gone.</p> - -<p>As to human Love and Friendship, to which we are often bidden to turn -as the best substitutes for religion, I feel persuaded that, above all -other things they must deteriorate in a “Faithless World.” To apples -of Sodom must all their sweetness turn, from the hour in which men -recognize their transitory nature. The warmer and more tender and -reverential the affection, the more intolerable must become the idea of -eternal separation; and the more beautiful and admirable the character -of our friend, the more maddening the belief that in a few years, or -days, he will vanish into nothingness. Sooner than endure the agony -of these thoughts, I feel sure that men will check themselves from -entering into the purer and holier relations of the heart. Affection, -predestined to be cast adrift, will throw out no more anchors, but -will float on every wave of passion or caprice. The day in which it -becomes impossible for men to vow that they will love <i>for ever</i> will -almost be the last in which they will love nobly and purely at all.</p> - -<p>But if these things hold good as regard the prosperous and healthy, and -those still in the noon of life, what is to be said of the prospects -in the “Faithless World,” of the diseased, the poverty-stricken, the -bereaved, the aged? There is no need to strain our eyes to look into -the dark corners of the earth. We all know (though while we ourselves -stand in the sunshine we do not often <i>feel</i>) what hundreds of -thousands of our fellow-mortals are enduring at all times, in the way -of bodily and mental anguish. When these overtake us, or when Old Age -creeps on, and</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“First our pleasures die, and then</span> -<span class="i0">Our hopes, and then our fears,”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="no-indent">is it possible to suppose it will make “little difference” -what we believe as to the existence of some loving Power in whose arms our -feebleness may find support; or of another life wherein our winter may -be turned once more to spring? If we live long enough, the day must -come to each of us when we shall find our chief interest in our daily -newspaper most often in the obituary columns, till, one after another -nearly all the friends of our youth and prime have “gone over to the -majority,” and we begin to live in a world peopled with spectres. Our -talk with those who travel still beside us is continually referring to -the dead, and our very jests end in a sigh for the sweet old laughter -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> -which we shall never hear again. If in these solemn years we yet have -faith in God and Immortality, and as we recall one dear one after -another,—father, mother, brother, friend,—we can say to ourselves, -“They are all gone into the world of light; they are all safe and -rejoicing in the smile of God;” then our grief is only mourning; it -is not despair. Our sad hearts are cheered and softened, not turned -to stone by the memories of the dead. Let us, however, on the other -hand, be driven by our new guide, Science, to abandon this faith and -the hope of eternal reunion, then, indeed, must our old age be utterly, -utterly desolate. O! the mockery of saying that it would make “no great difference!”</p> - -<p>We have been told that in the event of the fall of religion, “life -would remain in most particulars and to most people much what it -is at present.” It appears to me, on the contrary, that there is -actually <i>nothing</i> in life which would be left unchanged after -such a catastrophe.</p> - -<p class="space-above3">But I have only conjured up the nightmare of -a “Faithless World.” <span class="smcap">God lives</span>; and in His -light we shall see light.—<i>Contemporary Review.</i></p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<h2>FOOD AND FEEDING.</h2> - -<p>When a man and a bear meet together casually in an American forest, -it makes a great deal of difference, to the two parties concerned at -least, whether the bear eats the man or the man eats the bear. We -haven’t the slightest difficulty in deciding afterwards which of the -two, in each particular case, has been the eater, and which the eaten. -Here, we say, is the grizzly that ate the man; or, here is the man -that smoked and dined off the hams of the grizzly. Basing our opinion -upon such familiar and well-known instances, we are apt to take it for -granted far too readily that between eating and being eaten, between -the active and the passive voice of the verb <i>edo</i>, there exists -necessarily a profound and impassable native antithesis. To swallow an -oyster is, in our own personal histories, so very different a thing -from being swallowed by a shark that we can hardly realise at first -the underlying fundamental identity of eating with mere coalescence. -And yet, at the very outset of the art of feeding, when the nascent -animal first began to indulge in this very essential animal practice, -one may fairly say that no practical difference as yet existed between -the creature that ate and the creature that was eaten. After the man -and the bear had finished their little meal, if one may be frankly -metaphorical, it was impossible to decide whether the remaining being -was the man or the bear, or which of the two had swallowed the other. -The dinner having been purely mutual, the resulting animal represented -both the litigants equally; just as, in cannibal New Zealand, the chief -who ate up his brother chief was held naturally to inherit the goods -and chattels of the vanquished and absorbed rival, whom he had thus -literally and physically incorporated.</p> - -<p>A jelly-speck, floating about at his ease in a drop of stagnant water -under the field of a microscope, collides accidentally with another -jelly-speck who happens to be travelling in the opposite direction -across the same miniature ocean. What thereupon occurs? One jelly-speck -rolls itself gradually into the other, so that, instead of two, -there is now one: and the united body proceeds to float away quite -unconcernedly, without waiting to trouble itself for a second with -the profound metaphysical question, which half of it is the original -personality, and which half the devoured and digested. In these minute -and very simple animals there is absolutely no division of labor -between part and part; every bit of the jelly-like mass is alike head -and foot and mouth and stomach. The jelly-speck has no permanent limbs, -but it keeps putting forth vague arms and legs every now and then from -one side or the other; and with these temporary and ever-dissolving -members it crawls along merrily through its tiny drop of stagnant -water. If two of the legs or arms happen to knock up casually against -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> -one another, they coalesce at once, just like two drops of water on -a window-pane, or two strings of treacle slowly spreading along the -surface of a plate. When the jelly-speck meets any edible thing—a -bit of dead plant, a wee creature like itself, a microscopic egg—it -proceeds to fold its own substance slimily around it, making, as -it were, a temporary mouth for the purpose of swallowing it, and a -temporary stomach for the purpose of quietly digesting and assimilating -it afterwards. Thus what at one moment is a foot may at the next moment -become a mouth, and at the moment after that again a rudimentary -stomach. The animal has no skin and no body, no outside and no inside, -no distinction of parts or members, no individuality, no identity. -Roll it up into one with another of its kind, and it couldn’t tell you -itself a minute afterwards which of the two it had really been a minute -before. The question of personal identity is here considerably mixed.</p> - -<p>But as soon as we get to rather larger creatures of the same type, -the antithesis between the eater and the eaten begins to assume -a more definite character. The big jelly-bag approaches a good -many smaller jelly-bags, microscopic plants, and other appropriate -foodstuffs, and, surrounding them rapidly with its crawling arms, -envelops them in its own substance, which closes behind them and -gradually digests them. Everybody knows, by name at least, that -revolutionary and evolutionary hero, the amœba—the terror of -theologians, the pet of professors, and the insufferable bore of -the general reader. Well, this parlous and subversive little animal -consists of a comparatively large mass of soft jelly, pushing forth -slender lobes, like threads or fingers, from its own substance, and -gliding about, by means of these tiny legs, over water-plants and -other submerged surfaces. But though it can literally turn itself -inside out, like a glove, it still has some faint beginnings of a -mouth and stomach, for it generally takes in food and absorbs water -through a particular part of its surface, where the slimy mass of its -body is thinnest. Thus the amœba may be said really to eat and drink, -though quite devoid of any special organs for eating or drinking.</p> - -<p>The particular point to which I wish to draw attention here, however, -is this: that even the very simplest and most primitive animals do -discriminate somehow between what is eatable and what isn’t. The -amœba has no eyes, no nose, no mouth, no tongue, no nerves of taste, -no special means of discrimination of any kind; and yet, so long as it -meets only grains of sand or bits of shell, it makes no effort in any -way to swallow them; but the moment it comes across a bit of material -fit for its food, it begins at once to spread its clammy fingers around -the nutritious morsel. The fact is, every part of the amœba’s body -apparently possesses, in a very vague form, the first beginnings of -those senses which in us are specialised and confined to a single spot. -And it is because of the light which the amœba thus incidentally -casts upon the nature of the specialised senses in higher animals that -I have ventured once more to drag out of the private life of his native -pond that already too notorious and obtrusive rhizopod.</p> - -<p>With us lordly human beings, at the extreme opposite end in the scale -of being from the microscopic jelly-specks, the art of feeding and the -mechanism which provides for it have both reached a very high state of -advanced perfection. We have slowly evolved a tongue and palate on the -one hand, and French cooks and <i>pâté de foie gras</i> on the other. But -while everybody knows practically how things taste to us, and which -things respectively we like and dislike, comparatively few people ever -recognize that the sense of taste is not merely intended as a source of -gratification, but serves a useful purpose in our bodily economy, in -informing us what we ought to eat and what to refuse. Paradoxical as it -may sound at first to most people, nice things are, in the main, things -that are good for us, and nasty things are poisonous or otherwise -injurious. That we often practically find the exact contrary the case -(alas!) is due, not to the provisions of nature, but to the artificial -surroundings in which we live, and to the cunning way in which we -flavor up unwholesome food, so as to deceive and cajole the natural -palate. Yet, after all, it is a pleasant gospel that what we like is -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> -really good for us, and, when we have made some small allowances for -artificial conditions, it is in the main a true one also.</p> - -<p>The sense of taste, which in the lowest animals is diffused equally -over the whole frame, is in ourselves and other higher creatures -concentrated in a special part of the body, namely the mouth, where the -food about to be swallowed is chewed and otherwise prepared beforehand -for the work of digestion. Now it is, of course, quite clear that -some sort of supervision must be exercised by the body over the kind -of food that is going to be put into it. Common experience teaches -us that prussic acid and pure opium are undesirable food stuffs in -large quantities; that raw spirits, petroleum, and red lead should be -sparingly partaken of by the judicious feeder; and that even green -fruit, the bitter end of cucumber, and the berries of deadly nightshade -are unsatisfactory articles of diet when continuously persisted in. -If, at the very outset of our digestive apparatus, we hadn’t a sort of -automatic premonitory adviser upon the kinds of food we ought or ought -not to indulge in, we should naturally commit considerable imprudences -in the way of eating and drinking—even more than we do at present. -Natural selection has therefore provided us with a fairly efficient -guide in this respect in the sense of taste, which is placed at the -very threshold, as it were, of our digestive mechanism. It is the duty -of taste to warn us against uneatable things, and to recommend to our -favorable attention eatable and wholesome ones; and, on the whole, -in spite of small occasional remissness, it performs its duty with -creditable success.</p> - -<p>Taste, however, is not equally distributed over the whole surface of -the tongue alike. There are three distinct regions or tracts, each -of which has to perform its own special office and function. The tip -of the tongue is concerned mainly with pungent and acrid tastes; the -middle portion is sensitive chiefly to sweets and bitters; while the -back or lower portion confines itself almost entirely to the flavors of -roast meats, butter, oils, and other rich or fatty substances. There -are very good reasons for this subdivision of faculties in the tongue, -the object being, as it were, to make each piece of food undergo three -separate examinations (like “smalls,” “mods,” and “greats” at Oxford), -which must be successively passed before it is admitted into full -participation in the human economy. The first examination, as we shall -shortly see, gets rid at once of substances which would be actively -and immediately destructive to the very tissues of the mouth and body; -the second discriminates between poisonous and chemically harmless -foodstuffs; and the third merely decides the minor question whether -the particular food is likely to prove then and there wholesome or -indigestible to the particular person. The sense of taste proceeds, -in fact, upon the principle of gradual selection and elimination; -it refuses first what is positively destructive, next what is more -remotely deleterious, and finally what is only undesirable or -over-luscious.</p> - -<p>When we want to assure ourselves, by means of taste, about an unknown -object—say a lump of some white stuff, which may be crystal, or glass, -or alum, or borax, or quartz, or rocksalt—we put the tip of the tongue -against it gingerly. If it begins to burn us, we draw it away more or -less rapidly, with an accompaniment in language strictly dependent -upon our personal habits and manners. The test we thus occasionally -apply, even in the civilised adult state, to unknown bodies is one that -is being applied every day and all day long by children and savages. -Unsophisticated humanity is constantly putting everything it sees up to -its mouth in a frank spirit of experimental inquiry as to its gustatory -properties. In civilised life, we find everything ready labelled and -assorted for us; we comparatively seldom require to roll the contents -of a suspicious bottle (in very small quantities) doubtfully upon the -tongue in order to discover whether it is pale sherry or Chili vinegar, -Dublin stout or mushroom ketchup. But in the savage state, from which, -geologically and biologically speaking, we have only just emerged, -bottles and labels do not exist. Primitive man, therefore, in his sweet -simplicity, has only two modes open before him for deciding whether the -things he finds are or are not strictly edible. The first thing he does -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> -is to sniff at them, and smell being, as Mr. Herbert Spencer has well -put it, an anticipatory taste, generally gives him some idea of what -the thing is likely to prove. The second thing he does is to pop -it into his mouth, and proceed practically to examine its further -characteristics.</p> - -<p>Strictly speaking with the tip of the tongue one can’t really taste at -all. If you put a small drop of honey or of oil of bitter almonds on -that part of the mouth, you will find (no doubt to your great surprise) -that it produces no effect of any sort; you only taste it when it -begins slowly to diffuse itself, and reaches the true tasting region -in the middle distance. But if you put a little cayenne or mustard -on the same part, you will find that it bites you immediately—the -experiment should be tried sparingly—while, if you put it lower down -in the mouth you will swallow it almost without noticing the pungency -of the stimulant. The reason is, that the tip of the tongue is supplied -only with nerves which are really nerves of touch, not nerves of taste -proper; they belong to a totally different main branch, and they go -to a different centre in the brain, together with the very similar -threads which supply the nerves of smell for mustard and pepper. That -is why the smell and taste of these pungent substances are so much -alike, as everybody must have noticed; a good sniff at a mustard-pot -producing almost the same irritating effects as an incautious mouthful. -As a rule, we don’t accurately distinguish, it is true, between these -different regions of taste in the mouth in ordinary life; but that is -because we usually roll our food about instinctively, without paying -much attention to the particular part affected by it. Indeed, when one -is trying deliberate experiments in the subject, in order to test the -varying sensitiveness of the different parts to different substances, -it is necessary to keep the tongue quite dry, in order to isolate the -thing you are experimenting with, and prevent its spreading to all -parts of the mouth together. In actual practice this result is obtained -in a rather ludicrous manner—by blowing upon the tongue, between each -experiment, with a pair of bellows. To such undignified expedients does -the pursuit of science lead the ardent modern psychologist. These -domestic rivals of Dr. Forbes Winslow, the servants, who behold the -enthusiastic investigator alternately drying his tongue in this -ridiculous fashion, as if he were a blacksmith’s fire, and then -squeezing out a single drop of essence of pepper, vinegar, or beef-tea -from a glass syringe upon the dry surface, not unnaturally arrive at -the conclusion that master has gone stark mad, and that, in their -private opinion, it’s the microscope and the skeleton as has done it.</p> - -<p>Above all things, we don’t want to be flayed alive. So the kinds of -tastes discriminated by the tip of the tongue are the pungent, like -pepper, cayenne, and mustard; the astringent, like borax and alum; -the alkaline, like soda and potash; the acid, like vinegar and green -fruit; and the saline, like salt and ammonia. Almost all the bodies -likely to give rise to such tastes (or, more correctly, sensations -of touch in the tongue) are obviously unwholesome and destructive -in their character, at least when taken in large quantities. Nobody -wishes to drink nitric acid by the quart. The first business of this -part of the tongue is, therefore, to warn us emphatically against -caustic substances and corrosive acids—against vitriol and kerosene, -spirits of wine and ether, capsicums and burning leaves or roots, -such as those of the common English lords-and-ladies. Things of this -sort are immediately destructive to the very tissues of the tongue -and palate; if taken incautiously in too large doses, they burn the -skin off the roof of the mouth; and when swallowed they play havoc, -of course, with our internal arrangements. It is highly advisable, -therefore, to have an immediate warning of these extremely dangerous -substances, at the very outset of our feeding apparatus.</p> - -<p>This kind of taste hardly differs from touch or burning. The -sensibility of the tip of the tongue is only a very slight modification -of the sensibility possessed by the skin generally, and especially by -the inner folds over all delicate parts of the body. We all know that -common caustic burns us wherever it touches; and it burns the tongue, -only in a somewhat more marked manner. Nitric or sulphuric acid attacks -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> -the fingers each after its own kind. A mustard plaster makes us tingle -almost immediately; and the action of mustard on the tongue hardly -differs, except in being more instantaneous and more discriminative. -Cantharides work in just the same way. If you cut a red pepper in -two and rub it on your neck it will sting you just as it does when -put into soup (this experiment, however, is best tried upon one’s -younger brother; if made personally, it hardly repays the trouble and -annoyance). Even vinegar and other acids, rubbed into the skin, are -followed by a slight tingling; while the effect of brandy, applied, -say, to the arms, is gently stimulating and pleasurable, somewhat -in the same way as when normally swallowed in conjunction with the -habitual seltzer. In short, most things which give rise to distinct -tastes when applied to the tip of the tongue, give rise to fainter -sensations when applied to the skin generally. And one hardly needs -to be reminded that pepper or vinegar placed (accidentally as a rule) -on the inner surface of the eyelids produces a very distinct and -unpleasant smart.</p> - -<p>The fact is, the liability to be chemically affected by pungent or -acid bodies is common to every part of the skin; but it is least felt -where the tough outer skin is thickest, and most felt where that skin -is thinnest, and the nerves are most plentifully distributed near the -surface. A mustard plaster would probably fail to draw at all on one’s -heel or the palm of one’s hand; while it is decidedly painful on one’s -neck or chest; and a mere speck of mustard inside the eyelid gives one -positive torture for hours together. Now the tip of the tongue is just -a part of one’s body specially set aside for this very object, provided -with an extremely thin skin, and supplied with an immense number of -nerves, on purpose so as to be easily affected by all such pungent, -alkaline, or spirituous substances. Sir Wilfrid Lawson would probably -conclude that it was deliberately designed by Providence to warn us -against a wicked indulgence in the brandy and seltzer aforesaid.</p> - -<p>At first sight it might seem as though there were hardly enough of such -pungent and fiery things in existence to make it worth while for us to -be provided with a special mechanism for guarding against them. That is -true enough, no doubt, as regards our modern civilized life; though, -even now, it is perhaps just as well that our children should have an -internal monitor (other than conscience) to dissuade them immediately -from indiscriminate indulgence in photographic chemicals, the contents -of stray medicine bottles, and the best dried West India chilies. But -in an earlier period of progress, and especially in tropical countries -(where the Darwinians have now decided the human race made its first -<i>début</i> upon this or any other stage), things were very different -indeed. Pungent and poisonous plants and fruits abounded on every -side. We have all of us in our youth been taken in by some too cruelly -waggish companion, who insisted upon making us eat the bright, glossy -leaves of the common English arum, which without look pretty and juicy -enough, but within are full of the concentrated essence of pungency -and profanity. Well, there are hundreds of such plants, even in cold -climates, to tempt the eyes and poison the veins of unsuspecting cattle -or childish humanity. There is buttercup, so horribly acrid that cows -carefully avoid it in their closest cropped pastures; and yet your cow -is not usually a too dainty animal. There is aconite, the deadly poison -with which Dr. Lamson removed his troublesome relatives. There is -baneberry, whose very name sufficiently describes its dangerous nature. -There are horseradish, and stinging rocket, and biting wall-pepper, -and still smarter water-pepper, and wormwood, and nightshade, and -spurge, and hemlock, and half a dozen equally unpleasant weeds. All of -these have acquired their pungent and poisonous properties, just as -nettles have acquired their sting, and thistles their thorns, in order -to prevent animals from browsing upon them and destroying them. And -the animals in turn have acquired a very delicate sense of pungency -on purpose to warn them beforehand of the existence of such dangerous -and undesirable qualities in the plants which they might otherwise be -tempted incautiously to swallow. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> - -<p>In tropical woods, where our “hairy quadrumanous ancestor” (Darwinian -for the primæval monkey, from whom we are presumably descended) used -playfully to disport himself, as yet unconscious of his glorious -destiny as the remote progenitor of Shakespeare, Milton, and the late -Mr. Peace—in tropical woods, such acid or pungent fruits and plants -are particularly common, and correspondingly annoying. The fact is, our -primitive forefather and all the other monkeys are, or were, confirmed -fruit-eaters. But to guard against their depredations a vast number -of tropical fruits and nuts have acquired disagreeable or fiery rinds -and shells, which suffice to deter the bold aggressor. It may not be -nice to get your tongue burnt with a root or fruit, but it is at least -a great deal better than getting poisoned; and, roughly speaking, -pungency in external nature exactly answers to the rough gaudy labels -which some chemists paste on bottles containing poisons. It means to -say, “This fruit or leaf, if you eat it in any quantities, will kill -you.” That is the true explanation of capsicums, pimento, colocynth, -croton oil, the upas tree, and the vast majority of bitter, acrid, -or fiery fruits and leaves. If we had to pick up our own livelihood, -as our naked ancestors had to do, from roots, seeds, and berries, -we should far more readily appreciate this simple truth. We should -know that a great many more plants than we now suspect are bitter or -pungent, and therefore poisonous. Even in England we are familiar -enough with such defences as those possessed by the outer rind of the -walnut; but the tropical cashewnut has a rind so intensely acrid that -it blisters the lips and fingers instantaneously, in the same way -as cantharides would do. I believe that on the whole, taking nature -throughout, more fruits and nuts are poisonous, or intensely bitter, or -very fiery, than are sweet, luscious, and edible.</p> - -<p>“But,” says that fidgety person, the hypothetical objector (whom one -always sets up for the express purpose of promptly knocking him down -again), “if it be the business of the forepart of the tongue to warn us -against pungent and acrid substances, how comes it that we purposely -use such things as mustard, pepper, curry-powder, and vinegar?” Well, -in themselves all these things are, strictly speaking, bad for us; -but in small quantities they act as agreeable stimulants; and we take -care in preparing most of them to get rid of the most objectionable -properties. Moreover, we use them, not as foods, but merely as -condiments. One drop of oil of capsicum is enough to kill a man, if -taken undiluted; but in actual practice we buy it in such a very -diluted form that comparatively little harm arises from using it. -Still, very young children dislike all these violent stimulants, even -in small quantities; they won’t touch mustard, pepper, or vinegar, and -they recoil at once from wine or spirits. It is only by slow degrees -that we learn these unnatural tastes, as our nerves get blunted and -our palates jaded; and we all know that the old Indian who can eat -nothing but dry curries, devilled biscuits, anchovy paste, pepper-pot, -mulligatawny soup, Worcestershire sauce, preserved ginger, hot pickles, -fiery sherry, and neat cognac, is also a person with no digestion, a -fragmentary liver, and very little chance of getting himself accepted -by any safe and solvent insurance office. Throughout, the warning -in itself is a useful one; it is we who foolishly and persistently -disregard it. Alcohol, for example, tells us at once that it is bad -for us; yet we manage so to dress it up with flavoring matters and -dilute it with water that we overlook the fiery character of the spirit -itself. But that alcohol is in itself a bad thing (when freely indulged -in) has been so abundantly demonstrated in the history of mankind that -it hardly needs any further proof.</p> - -<p>The middle region of the tongue is the part with which we experience -sensations of taste proper—that is to say, of sweetness and -bitterness. In a healthy, natural state all sweet things are pleasant -to us, and all bitters (even if combined with sherry) unpleasant. The -reason for this is easy enough to understand. It carries us back at -once into those primæval tropical forests where our “hairy ancestor” -used to diet himself upon the fruits of the earth in due season. -Now, almost all edible fruits, roots, and tubers contain sugar; and -therefore the presence of sugar is, in the wild condition, as good a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> -rough test of whether anything is good to eat as one could easily find. -In fact, the argument cuts both ways: edible fruits are sweet because -they are intended for man and other animals to eat; and man and other -animals have a tongue pleasurably affected by sugar because sugary -things in nature are for them in the highest degree edible. Our early -progenitors formed their taste upon oranges, mangoes, bananas, and -grapes; upon sweet potatoes, sugar-cane, dates, and wild-honey. There -is scarcely anything fitted for human food in the vegetable world (and -our earliest ancestors were most undoubted vegetarians), which does -not contain sugar in considerable quantities. In temperate climates -(where man is but a recent intruder), we have taken, it is true, to -regarding wheaten bread as the staff of life; but in our native tropics -enormous populations still live almost exclusively upon plantains, -bananas, breadfruit, yams, sweet potatoes, dates, cocoanuts, melons, -cassava, pineapples, and figs. Our nerves have been adapted to the -circumstances of our early life as a race in tropical forests; and we -still retain a marked liking for sweets of every sort. Not content with -our strawberries, raspberries, gooseberries, currants, apples, pears, -cherries, plums, and other northern fruits, we ransack the world for -dates, figs, raisins, and oranges. Indeed, in spite of our acquired -meat-eating propensities, it may be fairly said that fruits and seeds -(including wheat, rice, peas, beans, and other grains and pulse) still -form by far the most important element in the foodstuffs of human -populations generally.</p> - -<p>But besides the natural sweets, we have also taken to producing -artificial ones. Has any housewife ever realised the alarming condition -of cookery in the benighted generations before the invention of sugar? -It is really almost too appalling to think about. So many things that -we now look upon as all but necessaries—cakes, puddings, made dishes, -confectionery, preserves, sweet biscuits, jellies, cooked fruits, -tarts, and so forth—were then practically quite impossible. Fancy -attempting nowadays to live a single day without sugar; no tea, no -coffee, no jam, no pudding, no cake, no sweets, no hot toddy before one -goes to bed; the bare idea of it is too terrible. And yet that was -really the abject condition of all the civilised world up to the middle -ages. Horace’s punch was sugarless and lemonless; the gentle Virgil -never tasted the congenial cup of afternoon tea; and Socrates went from -his cradle to his grave without ever knowing the flavor of peppermint -bull’s eyes. How the children managed to spend their Saturday <i>as</i>, or -their weekly <i>obolus</i>, is a profound mystery. To be sure, people had -honey; but honey is rare, dear, and scanty; it can never have filled -one quarter the place that sugar fills in our modern affections. Try -for a moment to realise drinking honey with one’s whiskey-and-water, -or doing the year’s preserving with a pot of best Narbonne, and you -get at once a common measure of the difference between the two as -practical sweeteners. Nowadays, we get sugar from cane and beetroot in -abundance, while sugar-maples and palm-trees of various sorts afford -a considerable supply to remoter countries. But the childhood of the -little Greeks and Romans must have been absolutely unlighted by a -single ray of joy from chocolate creams or Everton toffee.</p> - -<p>The consequence of this excessive production of sweets in modern times -is, of course, that we have begun to distrust the indications afforded -us by the sense of taste in this particular as to the wholesomeness -of various objects. We can mix sugar with anything we like, whether -it had sugar in it to begin with or otherwise; and by sweetening and -flavoring we can give a false palatableness to even the worst and most -indigestible rubbish, such as plaster-of-Paris, largely sold under the -name of sugared almonds to the ingenuous youth of two hemispheres. -But in untouched nature the test rarely or never fails. As long as -fruits are unripe and unfit for human food, they are green and sour; -as soon as they ripen they become soft and sweet, and usually acquire -some bright color as a sort of advertisement of their edibility. In -the main, bar the accidents of civilisation, whatever is sweet is good -to eat—nay more, is meant to be eaten; it is only our own perverse -folly that makes us sometimes think all nice things bad for us, and all -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> -wholesome things nasty. In a state of nature, the exact opposite is -really the case. One may observe, too, that children, who are literally -young savages in more senses than one, stand nearer to the primitive -feeling in this respect than grown-up people. They unaffectedly like -sweets; adults, who have grown more accustomed to the artificial meat -diet, don’t as a rule, care much for puddings, cakes, and made dishes. -(May I venture parenthetically to add, any appearance to the contrary -notwithstanding, that I am not a vegetarian, and that I am far from -desiring to bring down upon my devoted head the imprecation pronounced -against the rash person who would rob a poor man of his beer. It is -quite possible to believe that vegetarianism was the starting-point of -the race, without wishing to consider it also as the goal; just as it -is quite possible to regard clothes as purely artificial products of -civilization, without desiring personally to return to the charming -simplicity of the Garden of Eden.)</p> - -<p>Bitter things in nature at large, on the contrary, are almost -invariably poisonous. Strychnia, for example, is intensely bitter, -and it is well known that life cannot be supported on strychnia alone -for more than a few hours. Again, colocynth and aloes are far from -being wholesome food stuffs, for a continuance; and the bitter end of -cucumber does not conduce to the highest standard of good living. The -bitter matter in decaying apples is highly injurious when swallowed, -which it isn’t likely to be by anybody who ever tastes it. Wormwood and -walnut-shells contain other bitter and poisonous principles; absinthe, -which is made from one of them, is a favorite slow poison with the -fashionable young men of Paris, who wish to escape prematurely from “Le -monde où l’on s’ennuie.” But prussic acid is the commonest component in -all natural bitters, being found in bitter almonds, apple pippins, the -kernels of mango-stones, and many other seeds and fruits. Indeed, one -may say roughly that the object of nature generally is to prevent the -actual seeds of edible fruits from being eaten and digested; and for -this purpose, while she stores the pulp with sweet juices, she encloses -the seed itself in hard stony coverings, and makes it nasty with bitter -essences. Eat an orange pip, and you will promptly observe how -effectual is this arrangement. As a rule, the outer rind of nuts is -bitter, and the inner kernel of edible fruits. The tongue thus warns us -immediately against bitter things, as being poisonous, and prevents us, -automatically, from swallowing them.</p> - -<p>“But how is it,” asks our objector again, “that so many poisons are -tasteless, or even, like sugar of lead, pleasant to the palate?” -The answer is (you see, we knock him down again, as usual) because -these poisons are themselves for the most part artificial products; -they do not occur in a state of nature, at least in man’s ordinary -surroundings. Almost every poisonous thing that we are really liable to -meet with in the wild state we are warned against at once by the sense -of taste; but of course it would be absurd to suppose that natural -selection could have produced a mode of warning us against poisons -which have never before occurred in human experience. One might just -as well expect that it should have rendered us dynamite-proof, or have -given us a skin like the hide of a rhinoceros to protect us against the -future contingency of the invention of rifles.</p> - -<p>Sweets and bitters are really almost the only tastes proper, almost -the only ones discriminated by this central and truly gustatory -region of the tongue and palate. Most so-called flavorings will be -found on strict examination to be nothing more than mixtures with -these of certain smells or else of pungent, salty, or alkaline -matters, distinguished as such by the tip of the tongue. For instance, -paradoxical as it sounds to say so, cinnamon has really no taste at -all, but only a smell. Nobody will ever believe this on first hearing, -but nothing on earth is easier than to put it to the test. Take a small -piece of cinnamon, hold your nose tightly, rather high up, between -the thumb and finger, and begin chewing it. You will find that it is -absolutely tasteless; you are merely chewing a perfectly insipid bit -of bark. Then let go your nose, and you will find immediately that it -“tastes” strongly, though in reality it is only the perfume from it -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> -that you now permit to rise into the smelling-chamber in the nose. So, -again, cloves have only a pungent taste and a peculiar smell, and the -same is the case more or less with almost all distinctive flavorings. -When you come to find of what they are made up, they consist generally -of sweets or bitters, intermixed with certain ethereal perfumes, or -with pungent or acid tastes, or with both or several such together. -In this way, a comparatively small number of original elements, -variously combined, suffice to make up the whole enormous mass of -recognisably different tastes and flavors.</p> - -<p>The third and lowest part of the tongue and throat is the seat of -those peculiar tastes to which Professor Bain, the great authority -upon this important philosophical subject, has given the names of -relishes and disgusts. It is here, chiefly, that we taste animal food, -fats, butters, oils, and the richer class of vegetables and made -dishes. If we like them, we experience a sensation which may be called -a relish, and which induces one to keep rolling the morsel farther -down the throat, till it passes at last beyond the region of our -voluntary control. If we don’t like them, we get the sensation which -may be called a disgust, and which is very different from the mere -unpleasantness of excessively pungent or bitter things. It is far less -of an intellectual and far more of a physical and emotional feeling. We -say, and say rightly, of such things that we find it hard to swallow -them; a something within us (of a very tangible nature) seems to rise -up bodily and protest against them. As a very good example of this -experience, take one’s first attempt to swallow cod-liver oil. Other -things may be unpleasant or unpalatable, but things of this class are -in the strictest sense nasty and disgusting.</p> - -<p>The fact is, the lower part of the tongue is supplied with nerves in -close sympathy with the digestion. If the food which has been passed by -the two previous examiners is found here to be simple and digestible, -it is permitted to go on unchallenged; if it is found to be too rich, -too bilious, or too indigestible, a protest is promptly entered against -it, and if we are wise we will immediately desist from eating any more -of it. It is here that the impartial tribunal of nature pronounces -definitely against roast goose, mince pies, <i>pâté de foie gras</i>, sally -lunn, muffins and crumpets, and creamy puddings. It is here, too, that -the slightest taint in meat, milk, or butter is immediately detected; -that rancid pastry from the pastrycook’s is ruthlessly exposed, and -that the wiles of the fishmonger are set at naught by the judicious -palate. It is the special duty, in fact, of this last examiner to -discover, not whether food is positively destructive, not whether it is -poisonous or deleterious in nature, but merely whether it is then and -there digestible or undesirable.</p> - -<p>As our state of health varies greatly from time to time, however, so -do the warnings of this last sympathetic adviser change and flicker. -Sweet things are always sweet, and bitter things always bitter; vinegar -is always sour, and ginger always hot in the mouth, too, whatever our -state of health or feeling; but our taste for roast loin of mutton, -high game, salmon cutlets, and Gorgonzola cheese varies immensely -from time to time, with the passing condition of our health and -digestion. In illness, and especially in sea-sickness, one gets the -taste carried to the extreme: you may eat grapes or suck an orange in -the chops of the Channel, but you do not feel warmly attached to the -steward who offers you a basin of greasy ox-tail, or consoles you with -promises of ham sandwiches in half a minute. Under those too painful -conditions it is the very light, fresh, and stimulating things that -one can most easily swallow—champagne, soda-water, strawberries, -peaches, not lobster salad, sardines on toast, green Chartreuse, or hot -brandy-and-water. On the other hand, in robust health, and when hungry -with exercise, you can eat fat pork with relish on a Scotch hillside, -or dine off fresh salmon three days running without inconvenience. Even -a Spanish stew, with plenty of garlic in it, and floating in olive -oil, tastes positively delicious after a day’s mountaineering in the Pyrenees.</p> - -<p>The healthy popular belief, still surviving in spite of cookery, that -our likes and dislikes are the best guide to what is good for us, finds -its justification in this fact, that whatever is relished will prove on -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> -the average wholesome, and whatever rouses disgust will prove on the -whole indigestible. Nothing can be more wrong, for example, than to -make children eat fat when they don’t want it. A healthy child likes -fat, and eats as much of it as he can get. If a child shows signs of -disgust at fat, that proves that it is of a bilious temperament, and it -ought never to be forced into eating it against its will. Most of us -are bilious in after life just because we were compelled to eat rich -food in childhood, which we felt instinctively was unsuitable for us. -We might still be indulging with impunity in thick turtle, canvas-back -ducks, devilled white-bait, meringues, and Nesselrode puddings, if we -hadn’t been so persistently overdosed in our earlier years with things -that we didn’t want and knew were indigestible.</p> - -<p>Of course, in our existing modern cookery, very few simple and -uncompounded tastes are still left to us; everything is so mixed up -together that only by an effort of deliberate experiment can one -discover what are the special effects of special tastes upon the tongue -and palate. Salt is mixed with almost everything we eat—<i>sal sapit -omnia</i>—and pepper or cayenne is nearly equally common. Butter is put -into the peas, which have been previously adulterated by being boiled -with mint; and cucumber is unknown except in conjunction with oil -and vinegar. This makes it comparatively difficult for us to realise -the distinctness of the elements which go to make up most tastes as -we actually experience them. Moreover, a great many eatable objects -have hardly any taste of their own, properly speaking, but only a -feeling of softness or hardness, or glutinousness in the mouth, mainly -observed in the act of chewing them. For example, plain boiled rice is -almost wholly insipid; but even in its plainest form salt has usually -been boiled with it, and in practice we generally eat it with sugar, -preserves, curry, or some other strongly flavored condiment. Again, -plain boiled tapioca and sago (in water) are as nearly tasteless as -anything can be; they merely yield a feeling of gumminess; but milk, in -which they are oftenest cooked, gives them a relish (in the sense here -restricted), and sugar, eggs, cinnamon, or nutmeg are usually added -by way of flavoring. Even turbot has hardly any taste proper, except -in the glutinous skin, which has a faint relish; the epicure values -it rather because of its softness, its delicacy, and its light flesh. -Gelatine by itself is merely very swallowable, we must mix sugar, wine, -lemon-juice, and other flavorings in order to make it into good jelly. -Salt, spices, essences, vanilla, vinegar, pickles, capers, ketchups, -sauces, chutneys, lime-juice, curry, and all the rest are just our -civilised expedients for adding the pleasure of pungency and acidity -to naturally insipid foods, by stimulating the nerves of touch in the -tongue, just as sugar is our tribute to the pure gustatory sense, and -oil, butter, bacon, lard, and the various fats used in frying to the -sense of relish which forms the last element in our compound taste. -A boiled sole is all very well when one is just convalescent, but in -robust health we demand the delights of egg and bread-crumb, which are, -after all only the vehicle for the appetising grease. Plain boiled -macaroni may pass muster in the unsophisticated nursery, but in the -pampered dining-room it requires the aid of toasted parmesan. Good -modern cookery is the practical result of centuries of experience in -this direction; the final flower of ages of evolution, devoted to the -equalisation of flavors in all human food. Think of the generations of -fruitless experiment that must have passed before mankind discovered -that mint sauce (itself a cunning compound of vinegar and sugar) ought -to be eaten with leg of lamb, that roast goose required a corrective in -the shape of apple, and that while a pre-established harmony existed -between salmon and lobster, oysters were ordained beforehand by nature -as the proper, accompaniment of boiled cod. Whenever I reflect upon -such things, I become at once a good Positivist, and offer up praise -in my own private chapel to the Spirit of Humanity which has slowly -perfected these profound rules of good living.—<i>Cornhill Magazine.</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> - -<h2>BYGONE CELEBRITIES AND LITERARY RECOLLECTIONS.</h2> - -<p class="center space-below1"><b>BY CHARLES MACKAY, LL.D.</b></p> - -<h3>III.</h3> - -<p class="f110"><span class="smcap">Napoleon III.—Lord William Pitt Lennox.—Archbishop Whately.</span></p> - -<p>It was during the unsettled times that preceded the great French -Revolution of 1848—I think it was in January of that year—that one -of Mr. Rogers’s breakfasts was attended by Prince Louis Napoleon -Buonaparte, afterwards Napoleon III.; Dr. Whately, the Protestant -Archbishop of Dublin; Lord William Pitt Lennox, the son of the Duke -of Richmond (who distinguished himself at the battle of Waterloo, and -died many years afterwards as Governor-General of Canada); and myself. -I was previously acquainted with all these gentlemen, and had met -the Prince a few days previously at the house of Mr. John MacGregor, -formerly Secretary of the Board of Trade, and member of Parliament for -Glasgow. The Prince, who was then forty years of age, had long been a -resident in London as an exile, spoke English exceedingly well, had -thoroughly studied the working of the British constitution, and had -learned to respect and apparently to love the English people. He was -very taciturn and undemonstrative; his dull grey eyes seemed to have -little speculation in them, and to have been given to him, if such -an expression may be used, to look inwards upon himself rather than -outwards upon the world. They brightened up at rare intervals when -anything was said that particularly interested him. On this occasion -the talk of the breakfast table turned a good deal upon French politics -and the probability, more or less imminent, of a revolutionary outbreak -in Paris, consequent upon the unwise opposition of Louis Philippe -and his too obsequious minister, M. Guizot, to the question of the -extension of the franchise and the reform of the French Parliament. -As I had within a fortnight or three weeks returned from Paris, where -I had associated with some leading liberal politicians, among others -with Béranger the poet and the Abbé de Lamennais, my opinion upon the -situation was asked, I think, by Mr. Rogers, and whether I thought -the agitation would subside. “Not,” I said, “unless the King yields.” -“He won’t yield, I think,” said the Prince; “he does not understand -the seriousness of the case.” I told the Prince that Béranger, who -knew the temper and sympathised with the opinions of the people, had -predicted the establishment of a Republic, consequent upon the downfall -of the monarchy, within less than a twelvemonth. Lamennais did not -give the King so long a lease of power, but foresaw revolution within -six months. The Prince remarked that “if there were barricades in the -streets of Paris, such as those by which his way to the throne was won -in 1830, the King would not give orders to disperse the mob by force -of arms.” “Why do you think so?” asked Mr. Rogers. “The King is a weak -man, a merciful man. He does not like bloodshed. I often think he was -a fool not to have had me shot after the affair of Strasburg. Had our -cases been reversed I know that I would have had him shot without -mercy,” I thought little of this remark at the time, but in after -years, when the exiled Prince became the powerful emperor, my mind -often reverted to this conversation, and I thought that if King Louis -Philippe had done what the Prince considered he ought to have done—and -as he would have been fully justified by law, civil and military, as -well as by state policy, in doing—the whole course of European history -would have been changed. Personally, the Prince was highly esteemed by -all who knew him. Stern as a politician, and in pursuit of the great -object of his ambition, as in the famous <i>coup d’état</i> of 1851 by -which he raised himself at a bound from the comparatively humble and -uncertain chair of a President to the most conspicuous imperial throne -in the world—he was, in private life, of a singularly amiable temper. -He never forgot in his prosperity the friends or even the acquaintances -of his adversity; never ceased to remember any benefit that had been -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> -conferred upon him, and not only to be grateful for it, but to show -his gratitude by acts of kindness and generosity, if the kindness or -generosity could be of benefit to the fortunes of the persons on whom -it was bestowed. When he sought the hand in marriage of a Princess of -the House of Austria, and the honor was declined for the occult and -unwhispered reason that he was a parvenu and an upstart, and that his -throne was at the mercy of a revolution (and what throne is not?), he -married for pure love and affection a noble lady of inferior rank, and -raised her to a throne which she filled for many years with more grace -and splendor than any contemporary sovereign born in the purple of -royalty had ever exhibited, Queen Victoria alone excepted.</p> - -<p>The Prince thoroughly understood the character of the French people. -Napoleon I. had called the English a nation of shopkeepers. Napoleon -III. knew that the French were entitled in a far greater degree than -the English to that depreciatory epithet. He knew that in their hearts -they did not care so much for liberty and fraternity as they did for -“equality,”—that what they wanted in the first place was peace, so -that trade and industry might have a chance to prosper; and secondly, -that France as a nation might be the predominant power in Europe. For -the first reason, they required a master who would maintain order; for -the second reason, they idolised the name of the first Napoleon. These -two things were patent to the mind of Napoleon III., and formed the -keystone of his domestic and foreign policy.</p> - -<p>When London, about three months after the breakfast at Mr. Rogers’, was -threatened, on April 10, 1848, by an insurrectionary mob of Chartists, -under the guidance of a half-crazy Irishman, named Feargus O’Connor, -who afterwards died in a lunatic asylum, the Prince volunteered to act -as a special constable, for the preservation of the peace, in common -with many thousands of respectable professional men, merchants, and -tradesmen. I met him in Trafalgar Square, armed with the truncheon -of a policeman. On this occasion, the Duke of Wellington, then -commander-in-chief of the British army, had taken the precaution to -station the military in sufficient numbers at all the chief strategical -points of the metropolis ready, though concealed from the notice of -the multitude, to act on an emergency. Happily their services were not -required. The sovereign was popular; the upper and middle classes were -unanimous; a large section of the laboring classes had no sympathy with -Chartism, and the display of the civic force, with bludgeons and staves -only, without firearms of any kind, was quite sufficient to overawe the -rioters. I stopped for a minute to exchange greetings with the Prince, -and said I did not think from all that I had heard that the Chartists -would resort to violence, and that their march through the streets -would be orderly. The Prince was of the same opinion, and passed upon -his beat among other police special constables in front of the National Gallery.</p> - -<p>As Lord William Lennox was of the breakfast party, I took the -opportunity to ask him a question with regard to a disputed point. -I had lately visited Brussels, the city in which I had passed my -school-boy days, and which was consequently endeared to my mind by -many youthful associations. The mother of Lord William, the beautiful -Duchess of Richmond, had given a great ball on the night preceding the -battle of Waterloo, in June, 1815, at which Lord William, then in his -sixteenth year, was present. Every lover of poetry will remember the -splendid description of this ball and of the subsequent battle which -occurs in the third canto of Byron’s “Childe Harold.” The passage is -unsurpassed in any language for the vigor, the picturesqueness, and the -magnificence of its thought and diction, and in its relation to one of -the most stupendous events in modern history.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There was a sound of revelry by night,</span> -<span class="i3">And Belgium’s capital had gather’d then</span> -<span class="i0">Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright</span> -<span class="i3">The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men;</span> -<span class="i3">A thousand hearts beat happily; and when</span> -<span class="i0">Music arose with its voluptuous swell,</span> -<span class="i3">Soft eyes look’d love to eyes which spake again,</span> -<span class="i0">And all went merry as a marriage bell;</span> -<span class="i0">But hush! hark: a deep sound strikes like a rising knell.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> -It has been generally asserted and believed that the ball was given -by the duchess in the grand hall of the stately Hôtel de Ville in the -Grande Place, and when in Brussels I heard the assertion repeated by -many people, though denied by others. One old citizen, who remembered -the battle well, affirmed it to have been at the Hôtel de Ville, which -he saw brilliantly lighted up for the occasion, and passed among the -crowd of equipages that filled the Grande Place, when setting down -and taking up the ladies who graced the assembly with their presence. -Another equally old and trustworthy inhabitant declared that to his -personal knowledge the ball was given in the “Palais d’Aes,” a large -building that adjoins the palace of the King of the Belgians, and is -now used as a barrack; while a third affirmed it to have been held -in the handsome hotel, adjoining the Chamber of Deputies, which was -formerly occupied by Sir Charles Bagot, the British Ambassador to -Brussels and the Hague in 1830. Thinking there could be no better -authority than one who was present on the occasion, one, moreover, -who was so nearly allied to the giver of the entertainment, I asked -Lord William to decide the point. He replied at once that all these -assertions were unfounded. His father, the Duke, took a large house -in a back street, called the “Rue de la Blanchisserie” (street of the -laundry), abutting on the boulevard, opposite the present Botanic -Garden, and that the ball took place in the not extraordinarily -spacious drawing-room of that mansion. He said, moreover, that the lines—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Within the window’d niche of that high hall</span> -<span class="i0">Sat Brunswick’s fated chieftain,</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="no-indent">conveyed an idea of magnitude which the so-called -“high hall” did not in reality possess.</p> - -<p>Archbishop Whately here said: “If we may be permitted without breach of -good manners to speak of Waterloo in the presence of Prince Napoleon, -I may remark that the correction of the very minor error just made -by Lord William, though exceedingly interesting is not of great -importance. Though contradicted again and again, the report still -circulates, and is still believed, that the Duke of Wellington was -surprised on the eve of the battle of Waterloo by the rapid march of -the emperor, and was thus taken at a disadvantage.”</p> - -<p>“I never believed the report,” said the Prince, “though I have my own -views about the battle. I visited Waterloo in the winter of 1832, with -what feelings you may imagine.”</p> - -<p>“The truth as regards the alleged surprise,” said the Archbishop, -“appears to be, as Lord Byron explained in a note to the passage in -‘Childe Harold,’ that the Duke had received intelligence of Napoleon’s -march, and at first had the idea of requesting the Duchess of Richmond -to countermand the ball; but, on reflection, considered it desirable -that the people of Brussels should be kept in ignorance of the course -of events. He, therefore, desired the duchess to let the ball proceed, -and gave commands to all the general officers who had been invited -to appear at it, each taking care to quit the room at ten o’clock -quietly, and without giving any notification, except to each of the -under officers, to join their respective divisions <i>en route</i>. There -is no doubt that many of the subalterns who were not in the secret were -surprised at the suddenness of the order.”</p> - -<p>“I heard, when I visited the field of Waterloo less than a month ago,” -I said, “that many of the officers joined the march in their dancing -shoes, so little time was left for them to obey orders.”</p> - -<p>“It has been proved to the satisfaction of every real inquirer into -the facts,” said Mr. Rogers, “that as far as the duke himself and -his superior officers were concerned, there was no surprise in the -matter. You know the daring young lady, who presumed on her beauty to -be forgiven for her impertinence, who asked the Duke point-blank at an -evening party whether he had not been surprised at Waterloo. ‘Certainly -not!’ he replied ‘but I am now.’”</p> - -<p>“A proper rebuke,” said Lord William, “I hope the lady felt it.”</p> - -<p>Byron, in the beautiful stanzas to which allusion has been made, -describes the wood of Soignes, erroneously called Soignies, in the -environs of Brussels, a portion of the great Forest of Ardennes:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,</span> -<span class="i2">Dewy with Nature’s tear-drops as they pass.</span> -<span class="i0">Grieving, if aught inanimate e’er grieves,</span> -<span class="i2">Over the unreturning brave.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> -<p>In a note to this passage he speaks of Ardennes as famous in -Boiardo’s “Orlando,” as immortal in Shakespeare’s “As You Like It.” -Whatever may have been the case with Boiardo, it is all but certain -that Shakespeare’s “Arden” was not the Ardennes near Brussels, -but the forest of Arden, in Warwickshire, near his native town of -Stratford-on-Avon. He frequented this “Arden” in his youth, perhaps in -chasing the wild deer of Sir Thomas Lucy, perhaps in love-rambles with -Anne Hathaway. Portions of this English forest still remain, containing -in a now enclosed park—the property of a private gentleman—some -venerable oak trees, one of which as I roughly measured it with my -walking-stick is upwards of thirty feet in circumference within a yard -of the ground. This tree, with several others still standing, must -have been old in the days of Shakespeare; and in the shadow of which -he himself may have reclined in the happy days ere he went to London -in search of fame and fortune. “Arden,” spelled Ardennes in French, -is a purely Celtic word, meaning the high forest, from <i>Ard</i>, high, -and <i>Airdean</i>, heights. The English district is still called “Arden,” -and the small town of Henley, within its boundaries, is described as -Henley-in-Arden to distinguish it from the many other Henleys that -exist in England.</p> - -<p>Lord William Lennox married the once celebrated cantatrice, Miss Wood, -from whom he was divorced. He was a somewhat voluminous author of -third-rate novels, and a frequent contributor to the periodical press. -He died in 1880, in his eighty-first year.</p> - -<p>Dr. Whately, Archbishop of Dublin, was the author of a very able -treatise on Logic and Rhetoric, long the text-book of the schools; -and also of a once famous <i>jeu d’esprit</i> entitled “Historic Doubts -concerning Napoleon Buonaparte,” in which he proved irrefragably by -false logic likely to convince idle and unthinking readers, that -no such person as Napoleon Buonaparte ever did exist or could have -existed. In this clever little work he ridiculed, under the guise of -seeming impartiality and critical acumen, the many attempts that had -been made, especially by French writers of the school of Voltaire, to -prove that Jesus Christ was a purely imaginary character, as much a -myth as the gods of Grecian and Roman mythology. Mr. Greville, in his -“Memoirs of the Courts of George III., George IV., and William IV.,” -records that he met Whately, Archbishop of Dublin, at a dinner-party, -and describes him “as a very ordinary man in appearance and -conversation, with something pretentious in his talk, and as telling -stories without point.” Nevertheless he admitted him to be “a very able -man.” My opinion of the Archbishop was far more favorable. The first -thing that struck me with regard to him was the clear precision of -his reasoning, as befitted a man who had written with such undoubted -authority on Logic and Rhetoric, and the second his rare tolerance for -all conscientious differences of opinion on religious matters. Two -years previously I had sat next to him on the platform of the inaugural -meeting held by the members of The Athenæum at Manchester in support of -that institution. Several bishops had been invited, and had signified -their intention to be present, but all of them except Dr. Whately had -withdrawn as soon as it was publicly announced that Mr. George Dawson, -a popular lecturer and Unitarian preacher of advanced opinions, was -to address the audience. Mr. Dawson, who was at the time a very young -man, spoke with considerable eloquence and power, and impressed the -audience favorably, the Archbishop included. “I think,” said Dr. -Whately, turning to me at the conclusion of the speech, “that my -reverend brethren would have taken no harm from being present to-night, -and more than one of them, whom I could name, would be all the better -if they could preach with as much power and spirit, as this boy has -displayed in his speech.” On another occasion, when I was in Dublin in -1849. I heard that several ultra-orthodox Protestant clergymen in the -city had been heard to express regret that Dr. Whately was so lax in -his religious belief, and set so bad an example to his clergy. I asked -in what manner, and was told in reply that he had publicly spoken of -Dr. Daniel Murray, the Roman Catholic Archbishop of Dublin, then in his -81st year, as “a good man, a very good man,” adding the hope that he -himself should be found worthy to meet Murray in Heaven.</p> - -<p>This large-minded prelate died in 1863, in his seventy-seventh year. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> - -<h3>IV.</h3> - -<p class="f110"><span class="smcap">The Rev. Henry Hart Milman—The Rev. Alexander Dyce—Thomas Miller.</span></p> - -<p>It was in the summer of 1844, a few days after the interment in -Westminster Abbey of Thomas Campbell, the poet, author of the -“Pleasures of Hope” and many other celebrated poems, that I received -an invitation to breakfast with Samuel Rogers, to meet the Rev. Dr. -Milman, the officiating clergyman on that solemn occasion. There were -two other guests besides myself; the Rev. Alexander Dyce, well known -as a commentator on Shakespeare, and Mr. Thomas Miller—originally a -basket-maker—who had acquired considerable reputation as a poet and -novelist and a hard-working man of letters.</p> - -<p>Dr. Milman was at the time rector of St. Margaret’s—the little church -that stands close to Westminster Abbey and interferes greatly with the -view of that noble cathedral. He was afterwards Dean of St. Paul’s, and -was known to fame as the author of the successful tragedy of “Fazio,” -of many poetical volumes of no great merit, and of a “History of the -Jews” and a “History of Christianity,” both of which still retain their -reputation.</p> - -<p>The conversation turned principally on the funeral of the poet, at -which both Mr. Dyce and myself had been present. The pall-bearers were -among the most distinguished men of the time, for their rank, their -talent, and their high literary and political positions. They included -Sir Robert Peel, Lord Brougham, Lord Campbell, the Duke of Argyll, -the Earl of Strangford, and the Duke of Buccleuch, the last named the -generous nobleman—noble in nature as well as in rank—who had offered, -when a lad in his teens, to pay the debts of his illustrious namesake, -Sir Walter Scott, when the great novelist had fallen upon evil days -in the full flush of his fame and popularity. A long procession of -authors, sculptors, artists, and other distinguished men followed the -coffin to the grave. Many Polish exiles were conspicuous among them. As -Dr. Milman pronounced the affecting words of the burial service, “ashes -to ashes, dust to dust,” a Polish gentleman made his way through the -ranks of mourners, and drawing a handful of earth from a little basket -which he carried, exclaimed in a clear voice, “This is Polish earth for -the tomb of the friend of Poland,” and sprinkled it upon the coffin. -This dramatic incident recalled to my mind, as it no doubt did to that -of other spectators, Campbell’s unwearied exertions in the cause of -Poland, and of the indignant lines in the “Pleasures of Hope,”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hope for a season bade the world farewell,</span> -<span class="i0">And Freedom shriek’d when Kosciusko fell.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Mr. Rogers, reminded, perhaps, of a grievance by the presence at the -breakfast table of Dr. Milman, seemed to brood over an injustice that -he thought had been done him with reference to the late poet. When -Campbell, under the pressure of some pecuniary difficulty, complained -of the scanty rewards of literature, and especially of poetry, Mr. -Rogers was reported to have recommended him to endeavor to procure -employment as a clerk. This was thought to be very unfeeling; but -on this occasion Mr. Rogers explained to the whole company that he -had been misunderstood, and that he had not meant any unkindness. “I -myself,” he said, “was a clerk in my early days, and never had to -depend upon poetry for my bread; and I only suggested that in Mr. -Campbell’s ‘case,’ and in that of every other literary man, it would be -much better if the writing of poetry were an amusement only and not a business.”</p> - -<p>“No doubt,” said Mr. Dyce, “but men of genius are not always the -masters of their own youth, and cannot invariably choose their careers -or make choice of a profession which requires means and time to qualify -for it. You, for instance, Mr. Rogers, when a clerk, were clerk to your -father, and qualified yourself under his auspices for partnership in, -or succession to the management of, his prosperous bank. Mr. Campbell had no such chances.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It is a large question,” said Dr. Milman. “The love of literature in -a man of genius, rich or poor—especially if poor, is an all-absorbing -passion; and shapes his life, regret it as we may. Literature has -rewards more pleasant than those of money, pleasant though money -undoubtedly is. If money were to be the ‘be-all’ and ‘end-all’ of life, -it would be better to be a rich cheesemonger or butcher than a poor -author. But no high-spirited, intelligent, and ambitious youth could be -of this opinion and shape his life by it. Sensitive youths drift into -poetry, as prosaic and adventurous youths drift into the army or the -navy.”</p> - -<p>“The more’s the pity,” replied Mr. Rogers, “as by drifting into poetry -they too often drift into poverty and misery. I trust, however, you -will all understand that the idle and the malevolent gossips did, and -do me, gross unjustice when they say that I recommended Campbell to -accept a clerkship rather than continue to rely upon poetry. I never -thought of doing so. I merely expressed a general wish that every man -of genius, not born to wealth, should have a profession to rely upon -for his daily bread.”</p> - -<p>“A wish that all men would agree in,” said Mr. Dyce, “and that after -all had no particular or exclusive reference to Mr. Campbell. He did -not find the literature which he adorned utterly unprofitable. He -made money by his poetry and by his literary labor generally, besides -gaining a pension of three hundred pounds per annum on the Civil List, -and the society of all the most eminent men of his time, which he could -not have done as a cheesemonger or a butcher, however successful he -might have become in these pursuits.”</p> - -<p>“These are all truisms,” said Mr. Rogers, somewhat sharply, as if -annoyed. “What I complain of is that the world, the very ill-natured -world, should have spread abroad the ridiculous story that I -recommended Mr. Campbell, in his declining years, to apply for a -clerkship.”</p> - -<p>“I think no one believes that you did so,” said Dr. Milman, “or that -you could have done so. Your sympathy with men of letters is well known -and has been proved too often, not by mere words only, but by generous -deeds, for such a story to obtain credence.”</p> - -<p>“Falsehoods,” replied Mr. Rogers, still with a tone of bitterness, -“are not cripples. They run fast, and have more legs than a centipede. -I saw it stated in print the other day that I depreciate Shakespeare -and think him to have been over-rated. I know of no other foundation -for the libel than that I once quoted the opinion expressed of him by -Ben Jonson, his dearest friend and greatest admirer. Though Ben Jonson -called Shakespeare ‘the Swan of Avon,’</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i22">Soul of the age,</span> -<span class="i0">The applause, delight, and wonder of the stage,</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="no-indent">and affirmed that:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He was not for an age, but for all Time,</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="no-indent">he did not hesitate to express the wish, in answer to one -who boasted that Shakespeare had never blotted a line, ‘would to Heaven he had -blotted a thousand.’ Ben Jonson saw the spots on the glorious face of -the sun of Shakespeare’s genius, and was not accused of desecrating his -memory because he did so; but because <i>I</i> quoted that very saying and -approved of it, I have been accused of an act of treason against the -majesty of the great poet. Surely my offence was no greater than that -of Ben Jonson! If there were treason in the thought, it was treason -that I shared with him who had said he loved Shakespeare with as much -love as was possible to feel on this side of idolatry.”</p> - -<p>“I think,” remarked Dr. Milman, “that such apparently malevolent -repetitions of a person’s remarks are the results of careless ignorance -or easy-going stupidity, rather than of positive ill-nature or a wilful -perversion of the truth.”</p> - -<p>“It is very curious,” said Mr. Dyce, “how very few people can repeat -correctly what they hear, and that nine people out of ten cannot repeat -a joke without missing the point or the spirit of it.”</p> - -<p>“And what a widely prevalent tendency there is to exaggerate, -especially in numbers. If some people see a hundred of anything, they -commonly represent the hundred as a thousand and the thousand as ten thousand.”</p> - -<p>“Not alone in numbers,” interposed Mr. Rogers, “but in anything. If I -quoted Ben Jonson’s remark in relation to Shakespeare once only, the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> -rumor spreads that I quoted it frequently; and so the gossip passes -from mouth to mouth with continual accretion. Perhaps I shall go down -to posterity as an habitual reviler and depreciator of Shakespeare.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you won’t go down to posterity at all,” said Mr. Dyce, -good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not,” replied Mr. Rogers, “but if my name should happen to -reach that uncertain destination I trust I may be remembered, as Ben -Jonson is, as a true lover of Shakespeare. But great as Shakespeare is, -I don’t think that our admiration should ever be allowed to degenerate -into slavish adoration. We ought neither to make a god of him nor a -fetish. And I ask you, Mr. Dyce, as a diligent student of his works and -an industrious commentator upon them, whether you do not think that -very many passages in them are unworthy of his genius. If Homer nods, -why not Shakespeare?”</p> - -<p>“I grant all that,” replied Mr. Dyce, “nay more! I assert that many of -the plays attributed to him were not written by him at all. And more -even than that. Several of his plays were published surreptitiously, -and without his consent, and never received his final corrections or -any revision whatever. The faults and obscurities that are discoverable -even in the masterpieces of his genius, were not due to him at all, -but to ignorant and piratical booksellers, who gave them to the world -without his authority, and traded upon his name. Some also must be -attributed to the shorthand writers who took down the dialogue as -repeated by the actors on the stage. It is curious to reflect how -indifferent Shakespeare was to his dramatic fame. He never seems to -have cared for his plays at all, and to have looked at them, to use the -slang of the artists of our days, as mere ‘<i>pot-boilers</i>,’ compositions -that brought him in money, and enabled him to pay his way, but in which -he took no personal pride whatever.”</p> - -<p>“His heart was in his two early poems—‘Venus and Adonis,’ and the -‘Rape of Lucrece,’” said Dr. Milman, “the only compositions, it should -be observed, that were ever published by his authority, and to which he -appended his name. His sonnets, which some people admire so much—an -admiration in which I do not share—were published surreptitiously, -without his consent, and probably more than one-half of them were not -written by him. Some of them are undoubtedly by Marlowe, and some by -authors of far inferior ability. Shakespeare’s name was popular at the -time; there was no law of copyright, and booksellers did almost what -they pleased with the names and works of celebrated men; and what seems -extraordinary in our day, the celebrated men made no complaint—most -probably because there was no redress to be obtained for them if they -had done so. The real law of copyright only dates from the eighth -year of the reign of Queen Anne, 1710, or nearly a century after -Shakespeare’s death.”</p> - -<p>“But authors in those early days, even in the absence of a well-defined -law of copyright,” said Mr. Miller, “received payment for their works; -witness the receipt of John Milton for five pounds on account of -‘Paradise Lost’—now in the possession of our host—and which -we have all seen.”</p> - -<p>“But that was long after the death of Shakespeare,” said Mr. Dyce, -“and it does not appear that Shakespeare ever received a shilling for the -copyright of any of his works. Perhaps he received gratuities from the -Earls of Southampton and Pembroke, and the other rich young men about -town, for whom it is supposed that he wrote many of his sonnets. That -he also must have received considerable sums for his representation of -his plays at the Globe Theatre is evident from the well-ascertained -fact that he retired from theatrical business with a competent fortune -and lived the life for some years of a prosperous country gentleman.”</p> - -<p>As it has been asserted in my presence by an eminent literary -man, within a month of the present writing, that Samuel Rogers -systematically depreciated Shakespeare, and that he was above all -things a cynic, I think it right, in justice to his memory, to repeat -the conversation above recorded. Though it took place nearly forty -years ago, I wrote down the heads of it in my notebook on the very -day when it occurred; and by reperusal of it I have refreshed my memory -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> -so as to be certain of its accuracy. Mr. Rogers doubtless said very -pungent and apparently ill-natured things in his time; no professed -wit, such as he was, can always, or indeed very often, refrain from -shooting a barbed dart either to raise a laugh and to strengthen an -argument, or to dispense with one; but there was no malevolence in the -heart, though there might appear to be some on the tongue, of Samuel -Rogers. To love literature, and to excel in poetical composition, were -unfailing passports to his regard, his esteem, and if necessary, his -purse. One of the guests of the morning on which these conversations -took place, and who bore his part in them, was a grateful recipient -and witness of his beneficence. Thomas Miller, who began life as a -journeyman basket-maker, working for small daily wages in the fens -of Lincolnshire, excited the notice of his neighbors by his poetical -genius, or it may have been only talent, and by their praises of his -compositions, filled his mind with the desire to try his literary -fortune in the larger sphere of London. He listened to the promptings -of his ambition, came to the metropolis, launched his little skiff on -the wide ocean of literary life, and by dint of hard work, indomitable -perseverance, unfailing hope, and incessant struggles, managed to earn -a modest subsistence. He speedily found that poetry failed to put money -in his purse, and prudently resorted to prose. When prose in the shape -of original work—principally fiction—just enabled him to live -from day to day, he took refuge in the daily drudgery of reviewing in the -<i>Literary Gazette</i>, then edited by Mr. Jerdan, a very bad paymaster. -He had not been long in London before he made the acquaintance or Mr. -Rogers, and after a period of more or less intimacy, received from that -gentleman the good, though old, and as it often happens, the unwelcome -advice that he should cease to rely wholly upon literature for his -daily bread. As poor Miller could not return to basket-making—except -as an employer of other basket-makers, for which he had not sufficient, -or indeed any, capital—and as, moreover, he had no love for any -pursuits but those of literature, he resolved, if he could manage it, -to establish himself as a bookseller and publisher. Mr. Rogers, to -whom he confided his wish, approved of it, and generously aided him to -accomplish it, by the advance without security of the money required -for the purpose. The basket-maker carried on the business for a few -years with but slight success, and once informed me that he had made -more money by the sale of note paper, of sealing-wax, of ink, and of -red-tape, than he had made by the sale of his own works, or those of -anybody else.</p> - -<p>Mr. Rogers established another poet in the bookselling and publishing -business, but with far greater success than attended his efforts in the -case of the basket-maker. Mr. Edward Moxon, a clerk or shopman in the -employ of Messrs. Longman, who wrote in his early manhood a little book -of sonnets that attracted the notice of Mr. Rogers, to whom they had -been sent by the author with a modest letter, became by the pecuniary -aid and constant patronage of the “Bard of Memory,” one of the most -eminent publishers of the time. He was known to fame as “the Poet’s -publisher,” and issued the works not only of Mr. Rogers himself, but -of Campbell, Wordsworth, Southey, Savage, Landor, Coleridge, and many -other poetical celebrities. He also published the works of Ben Jonson, -Marlowe, Beaumont and Fletcher, Peele, and other noted dramatists of -the Elizabethan era.</p> - -<p>The friendly assistance, delicately and liberally administered in the -hour of need, by Samuel Rogers to the illustrious Richard Brinsley -Sheridan is fully recorded in the life of the latter by Thomas Moore; -that which was administered, though under less pressing circumstances, -to Thomas Campbell, has found a sympathetic historian in Dr. William -Beattie. Rogers, in spite of the baseless libel concerning Shakespeare, -had not a particle of literary envy in his composition. His dislike -to Lord Byron was not literary but personal, and is adequately -explained—and almost justified—by the gross and unprovoked attacks -which Byron directed against him.—<i>Gentleman’s Magazine.</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> - -<h2>AN ACTOR IN THE REBELLION OF 1798.</h2> - -<p class="center space-below1"><b>BY LETITIA McCLINTOCK.</b></p> - -<p>In a tiny hovel on the mountain-side just above the romantic glens -of Banagher, in the wildest part of the country Londonderry, lives -Paddy O’Heany, aged a hundred and three years. Paddy is an intelligent -old man who must have enjoyed his existence thoroughly, and taken a -vivid interest in the stirring scenes of his early life. No clod of -the valley is he even now, not like many old people who cannot be -aroused to any enthusiasm about either past or present events. Being -in quest of an actor in the terrible scenes of ’98, and having tried -several very old people without result, we hoped to find in Paddy a -story-teller.</p> - -<p>“Paddy,” said our friend Mrs. S——, “is the oldest inhabitant -in the parish; he was a youth of nineteen at the time of the Rebellion, and -can relate graphic tales of adventures in which he took part. One of -them, the history of Jack McSparron, will make your blood run cold; -but there, I’ll say no more; you shall judge for yourself. Paddy was -one of the United Irishmen; has been, it is said, a Ribbonman and a -Fenian since then, and is now, in all probability, a Land Leaguer. At -any rate, his sympathies are with the Land League, so that you must be -careful what you say if you want him to talk; but I need not give you -any hints, you will know how to draw him out.”</p> - -<p>Looking down from Paddy’s cottage door upon the richly wooded glens of -Banagher, the traveller is struck by the extent and beauty of the view. -Below lies a ruined church, a little to its right the glens—four dark -lines of wood branching off from a common meetingpoint, and running -up the mountain in different directions, and to the left the quaint -country town of Dungiven. Above the town rises the majestic mountain -range of Benbraddagh; while yet farther to the left, and like pale, -smoke-tinted phantoms, are the hills of Magilligan, and the shadowy -coast-line. This was the view we saw from Paddy’s low doorway, and with -a little reluctance we turned away from contemplating it, to enter the -smoky cabin.</p> - -<p>Paddy was a fine old man with thick, grizzled hair, a better-formed -profile than many of his class, and a hale, hearty voice. He was -totally blind, but his keen face was so full of intelligence that it -was easy to forget that he could not see. His daughter, herself a very -old woman, moved his arm-chair near the door, and we sat beside him -facing the scene above described. The turf smoke, of which the kitchen -was full, blew past us to find its outlet at the door. A turf stack was -built against the end of the dresser just behind Paddy’s chair. A calf -was walled off by a little rampart of boards from the rest of the room, -and the cock and hens had already flown to their roost directly above -our heads. The atmosphere and neighborhood might have been objected to -by squeamish people, but in the pursuit of knowledge what will not one dare?</p> - -<p>The old woman stood behind her fathers chair ready to jog his memory if -necessary. A present of tobacco, tea, and sugar touched the patriarch’s -heart; he was quite willing to take the desired journey into the -regions of the past.</p> - -<p>“Do I mind the time o’ the Uniting? Is that what the lady wants to -know? Ay, bravely I mind it. I mind it far better nor things that -happened yesterday. I was ane o’ the United Men mysel’, an’ I was sent -wi’ a big wheen o’ the boys to keep the pass on the White Mountain when -the army was expected from Derry to destroy us. I had my pike, an’ the -maist part o’ the boys had guns.”</p> - -<p>“Were you not afraid to meet the soldiers?”</p> - -<p>“Feared? Was I feared? Troth an’ faix I was, sorely feared; but it wad -ha’ been as much as your life was worth to let on that you were feared. -I mind us leaning against the heather, an’ the big rocks an’ mountains -rising up all roun’ us, an’ the cold night an’ the darkness comin’ on, -an’ feen a word was spoke amang us, for we be to keep the pass.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“Weel, at long an’ at last, Jack McSparron came running back (he was -put to watch); ‘an’,’ says he, ‘the army’s comin’ now; there’s the -tramp o’ the horses,’ says he. Wi’ that we to the listening, an’ we all -heered the tramp o’ the cavalry; an’ the company o’ the United Men just -melted away like snow off a ditch. Jack an’ one or two others tried to -keep us thegether, but it couldna be done; the boys was too feared. I -ran wi’ the rest, an’ I never stopped till I was in my father’s house -sittin’ into the chimney-corner aback o’ my mother. After that there -was soldiers passing we’er door nearly every day, an’ they said they -were marching to burn Maghera to the ground.”</p> - -<p>“Why was Maghera to be burned to the ground?”</p> - -<p>“I dinna rightly know, but I think the United Men was strong in it. But -counter-orders came that it was na to be destroyed, an’ then the army -came back to Dungiven.”</p> - -<p>“Were you acquainted with Jack McSparron?”</p> - -<p>“Is it Jack McSparron that was flogged in Dungiven Street? Ay, I mind -that weel.”</p> - -<p>His withered hands clutched the arms of his chair as he bent forward, -with his sightless eyes fixed, and the fire of eagerness in his keen -face. He was gone upon a journey into the distant past, and a scene of -horror passed before his mental vision.</p> - -<p>“Those times were worse nor these,” he said; “there were murders, too, -in parts o’ the country, but there was another way o’ working then. I -told you that the army came over frae England, an’ they took up the men -that was for the Uniting, an’ there was short work wi’ <i>them</i>. Ay, ay, -I mind the day Jack was flogged in Dungiven Street because he wouldna -tell the names o’ the men that was banded wi’ him. One o’ them was a -meeting minister, it was said; an’ there was farmers an’ laboring men, -too. For the whole country about Dungiven was strong for the United -Irishmen as they called them. I was wi’ them mysel’, but I was never took.”</p> - -<p>“There were some Presbyterians among them?”</p> - -<p>“Eh?” and his hand went up to his ear.</p> - -<p>“The lady’s axin’ if there wasn’t Presbyterians wi’ the United Men, -father,” said his daughter.</p> - -<p>“Troth, was there, ma’am! it was allowed that there was ministers an’ -farmers an’ shopkeepers o’ them. Jack was a Presbyterian himsel’.”</p> - -<p>“How was he taken prisoner?”</p> - -<p>“I dinna just mind, but I think it was at a meeting they had at a house -in Feeny. The alarm was given that the soldiers was coming, and all -fled an’ got away but Jack. He was a fine boy of nineteen years of age, -the support o’ his mother. He was stiff in his turn, too, far stiffer -nor I could ha’ been, for he swore he’d die afore he’d tell upon his -comrades. Ay, he was stiffer nor me.”</p> - -<p>“True for you, father,” laughed the old woman, leaning over Paddy’s -chair; “you’d ha’ told sooner nor be scourged.”</p> - -<p>We recalled Paddy’s naïve history of his flight from the pass on the -White Mountain and mentally agreed with her. Paddy, however, was an -Irishman pure, while Jack McSparron was descended from the Scottish -Covenanters, and had inherited from them the fortitude of an Ephraim MacBriar.</p> - -<p>“Go on, Paddy; your story is most interesting.”</p> - -<p>The old man smiled, but he was hardly thinking of his visitors, the -picture brought back by memory so engrossed him.</p> - -<p>“Jack wouldna’ gie the names o’ his comrades, an’ he was sentenced to -be flogged till he would tell. I mind Niel Sweenie, that was a comrade -boy o’ mine, an’ me went to Dungiven to see the flogging. We seen -Jack in a cart an’ his mother wi’ him, an’ all the way along the road -she was laying her commands upon him to die before he’d betray his -comrades. The army was marching all round the cart, an’ people frae -all the farmhouses an’ cottierhouses was following. Then we got into -Dungiven. I mind the crowds that was looking on, an’ me an’ Niel among them. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Jack got so many lashes, an’ then they’d stop an’ the officer would ax -him if he would tell now, an’ the old woman would call out, ‘Dinna give -in, Jack. Die like a man, my son. Think o’ the curses o’ the widows an’ -orphans that wad follow you;’ an’ the poor boy would make answer, ‘Ay, -mother, I’ll die before I tell.’”</p> - -<p>“Dear, dear, but that mother was the hard-hearted woman!” interrupted -Paddy’s daughter, glancing at her grandson, who happened to pass the -door at that moment with a creel of turf on his back.</p> - -<p>Paddy did not heed her interruption; he was embarked on the full tide -of recollection—the horrible scene lived again before him. “They gave -him a great many lashes,” he continued; “I dinna mind how many hundred -it was, an’ each time they stopped he was asked if he would tell, an’ -his mother still bid him die like a man, an’ his answer was still the -same. At long an’ at last the officer called out ‘Stop! would you kill -a game bird?’ an’ he was took down an’ put in the guard-room for the night.</p> - -<p>“Niel an’ me was invited in to tak’ a look at him, an’ we seen him -lying on his face on a table wi’ an ointment shirt on that the soldiers -had thrown over him. The officers gave orders that the whole country -was to see him if they liked. I think they wanted to scare the United Men.</p> - -<p>“He was to be took to Limavady the next day for the sentence to be -carried out there, so the whole country took a holiday again to see the -rear o’ the flogging. Jack an’ his mother was in the cart, an’ the army -marchin’ wi’ them, an’ me an’ Niel an’ a crowd o’ neighbors following -along the road to Limavady.</p> - -<p>“The mother called out to us, ‘I’m going wi’ his living funeral,’ says -she; ‘but I’ll gie him the same advice I did yesterday,’ says she.</p> - -<p>“When we reached Limavady he was tied up, an’ we were watching for the -lash to fall, when there was a great shout an’ we seen a man galloping -up the street as hard as his horse could go, waving something white -over his head. It was a pardon come from Dublin for Jack McSparron.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad the pardon came, for he was an heroic youth, rebel though he was.”</p> - -<p>“Ay,” cried the old man, “<i>he</i> wouldna’ be an informer. There’s few o’ -his sort left in Ireland now, more’s the pity—more’s the pity!”</p> - -<p>The fire in his voice told us plainly where his sympathies really were. -Not, certainly, with murdered landlords, bailiffs, or non-land-league farmers!</p> - -<p>“Did Jack live to be an old man?”</p> - -<p>“Ay, did he. He died it’ll be sixteen year past next Candlemas. There’s -a daughter o’ his married on a farmer not very far from this. The -McSparrons in this parish is all proud o’ being his friends. When ane -o’ them shows himsel’ a gude comrade or neighbor, the people says, ‘Ay, -he’s o’ the blood of Jack McSparron.’”</p> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Tragedies at Maghera.</span></h3> - -<p>Mrs. Majilton was in a state of much excitement one day in the summer -of ’98 because parties of soldiers were passing her house one after -another. Her house was close to the high-road, half-way between Feeny -and Dungiven, and stood in a comfortable little farmyard. She was a -Church Protestant, dreadfully afraid of the rebels, and consequently -very glad to see the red-coats in the country. They had been -marching past her house all morning, and she had stood at the door -with the baby in her arms, wishing them “God speed.”</p> - -<p>The men had exchanged a cheerful greeting with her now and then, and -as they went by she caught some of their conversation; the word Maghera -was repeated over and over again. They were marching to Maghera; no -time must be lost; they could not delay for refreshment or rest. The -day wore on, and a party of stragglers stopped at her door, young lads, -mere recruits, who had lagged behind the main body, not being able to -endure the hardships of their forced march from Londonderry as well as -the older men. Their sergeant, a bronzed veteran, asked the good woman -to give them a drink of water, for the love of God.</p> - -<p>“I have sworn at the poor fellows till I’m hoarse, ma’am; -but they’re giving up, and I must let them rest a minute.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Majilton ran to lay the baby in its cradle; then she opened the -barrel, filled a large bowl half full of oatmeal, poured water upon it, -and handed it to the men, who sat down in the yard, and passed the bowl -from one to another.</p> - -<p>“That’s both meat and drink,” said they, gratefully.</p> - -<p>“Our orders are to hurry on to Maghera without stopping, for we’ve got -to burn it to the ground,” said the sergeant.</p> - -<p>“God bless me, sir, what’s occurring at Maghera?”</p> - -<p>She knew that Maghera was a country town farther off than Dungiven. -Some of her neighbors had been there, but she had never travelled so -far herself. The sergeant told her that news had reached Derry that the -rebels were in force at Maghera, and were murdering all who refused to -join them. There were few newspapers in those days, and no penny post; -rumor spread and perhaps exaggerated the evil tidings. It was said that -a young girl combing her hair beside her hearth had been shot dead by -a party of men who came to look for her father. They looked in at the -window, saw her, and murdered her out of revenge because her father had -escaped them. “And now,” concluded the sergeant, “our orders are that -Maghera is to be destroyed.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Majilton, who knew her Bible well, remembered the fate of Sodom -and Gomorrah, and of Nineveh—that wicked city; and she thought the -soldiers were the Lord’s instruments to execute His judgment upon Maghera.</p> - -<p>When the party of recruits got as far as Dungiven they found that -counter-orders had come—Maghera was <i>not</i> to be burnt after all; but -sufficient troops to quiet the country were to be sent on, while the -remainder halted at Dungiven. We shall accompany two of the soldiers -who pressed forward. As they neared the town, scenes of desolation -met them on every hand—deserted houses, smouldering thatch, burnt -stackyards. They were told that the rebels had taken to the mountains -when they heard the troops were coming. The men separated; some -explored one road, some another, hoping to inclose the enemy in a net.</p> - -<p>As Privates John Buckley and Tom Green advanced up one of these -mountain roads they were appalled by the terrible loneliness of the -place. Here a farmhouse stood empty, its door hanging off the hinges; -there were blackened circles where stacks of corn had been; again they -saw a cottage with a smouldering thatch, and no sign of life near, -excepting a starved cat that prowled about the door.</p> - -<p>The rebels had clearly passed that way; those were the marks they -had left behind them. At length, where the lane seemed about to lose -itself in a mountain pass, they came to a cottage whose door stood -open. It looked like a comfortable small farmer’s homestead: a pretty -garden, gay with common flowers, was at one side of the house; there -were laburnums and lilacs just out of blossom; red and white roses in -full blossom; tall orange lilies with bursting buds; rows of peas and -beans and plots of cabbages. The whole place had a civilized air, and -reminded the Englishmen of their own homes. The pretty green railing -and rustic gate; the orderly stackyard and offices, gave an impression -of neatness, taste, and comfort unusual in that country.</p> - -<p>The men went into the kitchen of the farmhouse. There was no fire upon -the hearth. The turf had burnt to ashes under a great black pot of -potatoes that hung upon the crook, and two children sat disconsolately -leaning against each other beside the cold hearth.</p> - -<p>Buckley explored the “room,” and Green the loft; there was no trace -of human being to be found; the children were the only inmates of the place.</p> - -<p>The eldest child, a little girl of about four years old, with pretty -blue eyes and curly hair, looked up curiously, but did not move. Her -tiny brother was too languid to raise his head from her shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Are you alone in the house?” asked Green.</p> - -<p>“Ay,” replied the child.</p> - -<p>“Where are your father and mother?”</p> - -<p>“They are sleeping in the garden; they ha’ been there this good wee -while,” answered the little one, fixing her serious eyes upon them. -“Come, an’ I’ll show you where they are.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> - -<p>She got up, gave her hand confidingly to the man, and led him to the -garden, the other soldier following; and behind the cabbages they found -a man and woman lying in a heap, stiff and cold, having evidently been -piked to death.</p> - -<p>“Come back to the house, my little dear,” cried Green, drawing the poor -innocent away from the cruel sight. Her little brother still sat where -they had left him, leaning his sick head against the wall. He was very -faint and weak.</p> - -<p>“Have you nothing to eat?” asked the men.</p> - -<p>“My mammy has bread an’ butter in the kist, but she has the key in her -pocket,” replied the little girl. They broke open the chest and found -the food; but they had arrived too late to save the boy: he died in -Buckley’s arms before they reached Maghera. Green carried the girl -and presented her to his company. Each soldier subscribed toward her -maintenance, and she grew up among them, the pet and plaything of all. -She accompanied the regiment to England at the close of the rebellion, -and nothing further was known of her by her old neighbors.</p> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Micky O’Donnel’s Wake.</span></h3> - -<p>Wildest of all the wild Donegal coast is the region lying between -Fannet Lighthouse and Knockalla Fort. There are impassable bogs and -mountain fastnesses which strangers cannot explore, but that are safe -resorts for illicit distillers, the blue wreaths of smoke from whose -stills may be seen curling against a dark background. In the years ’97 -and ’98 these fastnesses were favorite haunts of the United Irishmen.</p> - -<p>Fannet had a particularly bad name in those unsettled times. The Church -Protestants were, of course, loyal, but they formed only a handful of -the population; and the Presbyterians were, many of them, banded with -the rebels. The Fannet landlords raised a company of yeomen, consisting -of the Protestants aforesaid, and placed themselves at their head.</p> - -<p>Help was at hand. Lord Cavan was sent over from England in command of -soldiers; Knockalla Fort was garrisoned; and the yeomanry were called -up to receive their arms and ammunition.</p> - -<p>“You needna be giving the like of us arms, my lord,” said old Anthony -Gallagher, “for the Catholics will take them from us.”</p> - -<p>Lord Cavan was amused at the fellow’s outspokenness, and replied that -he had come over to make Fannet so quiet that not one of the rebels -would venture so much as to speak. The yeomen got their guns and -bayonets, and the soldiers were ready to support them. Lord Cavan, a -stern and fierce soldier, kept his word; he quieted Fannet so that the -Catholics did not dare to speak. The Protestants had been reduced to an -abject state of terror before his arrival by the horrible murder of Dr. -Hamilton their rector, a zealous magistrate, who was followed to the -house of a neighboring clergyman and shot. He went to spend the night -with a brother-rector at some distance from Fannet, and the rectory was -surrounded by United Irishmen, who clamored that the Doctor should be -given up to them.</p> - -<p>“Those are Fannet men; I know their voices,” said he. The door was soon -burst open; the attacking party rushed in, found the family in the -garrets, and dragged their captive downstairs. He clung with both hands -to the banisters, and one of the women servants took a candle and held -the flame to his fingers till he was forced to let go his hold. He was -taken to the lawn and his brains were blown out.</p> - -<p>This atrocity had determined the Government to send troops to Fannet.</p> - -<p>It was soon after this that Anthony Gallagher and the troop he served -in were at Kerrykeel fair and were attacked by a party of the rebels. -The yeomen were commanded to draw their bayonets and beat them off, and -all the United Men retreated and got away except a man called Micky -O’Donnel from Ballywhoriskey, at the Bottom of Fannet. He was found -dead on the street, pierced through the heart. Lord Cavan rode up at -that moment, followed by men from the Fort. “Take that corpse with you, -boys,” said he, “an’ hang it in chains from the walls of Knockalla -Fort. It will be a warning to the rest of the villains.” Anthony and -two soldiers were left in charge of the corpse, but the villagers -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> -assembling in force, there was a rescue, and Micky O’Donnel was carried -off before the yeomen got back, attracted by the noise of shouting, to -protect their comrades. Lord Cavan was in a rage when he heard what had -happened, and swore a round oath that that corpse should yet hang in -chains from Knockalla Fort as a warning to the rest of Fannet; and he -despatched a party to recover it.</p> - -<p>It was known that Micky O’Donnel belonged to the Bottom of Fannet, so -the party set out along the banks of Mulroy, where they fell in with -the yeomen, and all went on together. But every house along the road -was empty, and there were no men at work in the fields; it was like a -country of the dead.</p> - -<p>Along the wild Atlantic shore; among the bent-covered sand hills; -up to the miserable row of hovels called the town of Shanna, went -the soldiers; but still not a human being was to be seen. The whole -population had taken to the mountains.</p> - -<p>At length they reached the last cabin in the village of Ballywhoriskey, -and there they discovered the dead man laid out on the wretched bed, -with two tallow candles burning at his head.</p> - -<p>“Feen a crathur” (we quote the words of Anton Gallagher, our informant, -son of the Anthony who was present at the scene)—“feen a crathur was -in the house but the corpse on the bed an’ two ould women waking it. -The women cried an’ lamented, an’ went on their knees to the officer -to lave the poor corpse where it was to get Christian burial; an’ the -gentleman thought it a pity o’ them, an’ left the wake wantin’ Micky -after all. It was my father tould me the story.”</p> - -<p>“Have you got your father’s gun and bayonet?”</p> - -<p class="space-below2">“Ay, ma’am, in troth I have! If you ladyship honors me -wi’ a visit you’ll see them hanging up over the chimney. I wouldna part wi’ them -for goold. There’s many a winter’s night the Catholics coming home -frae the market will stop at we’er door an’ cry, “King William’s men, -come out!” an’ then it’s all the mother an’ me can do to keep the -boys from taking down their grandfather’s gun, an’ going out to meet -them.”—<i>Belgravia.</i></p> - -<h2>SAMUEL JOHNSON</h2> - -<p class="center space-below1"><b>BY EDMUND GOSSE.</b></p> - -<p>It is exactly one hundred years ago since Dr. Johnson wrote his last -letter to Lucy Porter, in which he announced to her that he was very -ill, and that he desired her prayers. Less than a fortnight later, -on the 13th of December, 1784, he was dead. All through the year his -condition had given his friends more than anxiety. The winter of 1783 -had been marked by collapse of the constitution; to the ceaseless -misery of his skin was now added an asthma that would not suffer him to -recline in bed, a dropsy that made his legs and feet useless through -half of the weary day. It is somewhat marvellous that he got through -this terrible winter, the sufferings of which are painfully recorded in -his sad correspondence. It is difficult to understand why, just when -he wanted companionship most, his friends seem all to have happened to -desert him. Of the quaint group of invalids in mind and body to whom -his house had been a hospital, all were gone except Mrs. Desmoulins, -who was bedridden; and we may believe that their wrangling company had -never been so distasteful to himself as to his friends. Boswell and -Mrs. Thrale, as we know, had more or less valid reasons for absence, -and Boswell, at least, was solicitous in inquiry. We must, however, -from whatever cause, think of Johnson, who dreaded solitude, as now -almost always alone, mortified by spiritual pains no less acute than -his physical ones, torturing his wretched nights with Baxter’s <i>Call -to the Unconverted</i>, and with laborious and repeated diagnosis of his -own bodily symptoms. It is strange to think that, although he was the -leading man of letters in England, and the centre of a whole society, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> -his absence from the meetings of his associates seems scarcely to have -been noticed. It was not until in February he was relieved that he -allowed himself to speak of the danger he had passed through. Then he -confessed his terror to Lucy Porter, in the famous words, “Pray for me; -death, my dear, is very dreadful; let us think nothing worth our care -but how to prepare for it;” and asked Boswell to consult the venerable -physician, Sir Alexander Dick, as to the best way of avoiding a relapse.</p> - -<p>Boswell felt it a duty to apply not to Dick only, but to various -leading doctors. In doing so he reminded them, with his extraordinary -foppishness, of “the elegant compliment” which Johnson had paid to -their profession in his <i>Life of Garth</i>, the poet-physician. The -doctors, with one accord, and thinking without doubt far more of -Johnson himself than of Garth, clustered around him with their advice -and their prescriptions, and the great man certainly received for the -brief remainder of his days such alleviation as syrup of poppies and -vinegar of squills could give him. Mrs. Boswell, encouraged by a more -favorable account of his health, invited him down to Auchinlech in -March. He could not venture to accept, but he was pleased to be asked, -and recovered so much of his wonted fire as to fancy, in a freak of -strange inconsistency, that he would amuse himself by decorating his -London study with the heads of “the fathers of <i>Scottish</i> literature.” -To Langton, who—as Johnson justly thought, with unaccountable -“circumduction”—had made inquiries about his old friend through -Lord Portmore, he expressed a hope of panting on to ninety, and said -that “God, who has so wonderfully restored me, can preserve me in -all seasons.” It is very pathetic to follow the old man through the -desolate and wearisome months: nor can we easily understand, from any -of the records we possess, why he was allowed to be so much alone. -On Easter Monday, after recording without petulance that his great -hope of being able to go out on the preceding day had been doomed to -disappointment, he goes on to say, “I want every comfort. My life is -very solitary and very cheerless.... I am very weak, and have not -passed the door since the 13th of December.”</p> - -<p>Bright weather came in May, and Johnson went to Islington for a -change of air. Boswell came back to town, and the sage was able to go -to dinner-parties day after day, without at first exasperating his -symptoms. In June he went to Oxford, on the famous occasion when he -told the people in the coach that “Demptster’s sister had endeavored -to teach him knotting, but that he had made no progress;” and at -Oxford, as we know, he talked copiously, and with all his old vivacity. -No doubt, though Boswell does not like to confess it, the constant -dissipation, intellectual and mildly social, of those two summer months -was mischievous to the frail revival of his health. At the dinner -of the Literary Club, June 22, every one noticed how ill he looked. -Perhaps the true cause of this was a secret chagrin which we can now -appreciate, the final apostasy of Mrs. Thrale from his friendship. At -all events, Reynolds and Boswell were sufficiently frightened to set -their heads together for the purpose of getting their old friend off -to Italy. We are divided between satisfaction that the inevitable end -did not reach the old man sociable in the midst of strange faces and -foreign voices, and bewildered indignation at the still mysterious -cabal which wrecked so amiable an enterprise. If Lord Thurlow was -shifty, however, other friends were generous. Dr. Brocklesbury, the -physician, pressed Johnson to become his guest that he might the -more carefully attend upon him. From Ashbourne, whither he had been -prevailed upon to go, he kept this last-mentioned friend well posted in -the sad fluctuations of his health, and we see him gradually settling -down again into wretchedness. His mind recurred constantly to the -approaching terror. To Dr. Burney he writes in August, “I struggle -hard for life. I take physic and take air; my friend’s chariot is -always ready. We have run this morning twenty-four miles, and could run -forty-eight more. <i>But who can run the race with death?</i>” Reflections -of this class fill all his letters of that autumn; and in October he -sums up his condition in saying to Heberden that “the summer has passed -without giving him any strength.” It is strange that still no one -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> -seemed to notice what is plain to us in every line of his -correspondence, that Johnson was dying. With himself, however, the -thought of death was always present; and even in discussing with Miss -Seward so frivolous a theme as the antics of a learned pig, Johnson -was suddenly solemnized by recollecting that the pig had owed its -life to its education. One hardly knows whether to smile or to sigh -at the quaint and suggestive peroration: “The pig, then, has no cause -to complain; protracted existence is a good recompense for very -considerable degrees of torture.” To protract existence was now all -Johnson’s thought, and he set his powerful will to aid him in the -struggle. His only hopes were those which his strength of will supplied -him with. “I will be conquered,” he said, “I will not capitulate.”</p> - -<p>It was not till he reached London in November that he consented to -capitulate. The terror of death was now upon him, indeed. “Love me as -well as you can,” he wrote to Boswell; “teach the young ones to love -me.” On the 8th of November he closed the diary of his symptoms—his -<i>ægri ephemeris</i>—now become worse than useless. His suffering, -dejection, and restless weakness left his brain, however, unclouded, -and less than a week before the end he corrected an error in a line -from Juvenal which Dr. Brocklesbury had carelessly recited. The -chronicle of the rapid final decline is given with great simplicity and -force by Hoole in that narrative of the last three weeks of the life of -Dr. Johnson which he contributed to the <i>European Magazine</i> in 1799, -and which Mr. Napier has reprinted in one of the many appendices to his -invaluable edition. At last, exactly a year after his original attack -of asthma, the end came at seven o’clock in the evening of Monday, the -13th of December.</p> - -<p>Devoid, as it is, of all the elements of external romance, there is -perhaps no record of the extinction of genius which attracts more -universal interest than this death of Samuel Johnson. So much of -frivolity or so much of cant attends most of us even to the tomb, that -the frank terror, expressed through a long life by this otherwise most -manly and courageous person, has possessed a great fascination for -posterity. The haunting insincerity of verse, particularly of -eighteenth-century verse, had extracted even from Johnson, in the pages -of <i>The Vanity of Human Wishes</i>, the usual rose-colored commonplace -about death being “Kind Nature’s signal for retreat;” but he completely -cleared his own mind of cant, even though a little clung about his -singing robes. Boswell has given us an extraordinary instance of his -habitual and dismal apprehensions in the celebrated conversation -in 1769, which started with a discussion of David Hume’s supposed -indifference to the idea of death. Not less familiar are the passionate -asseverations with which Johnson startled Mrs. Knowles and Miss -Seward in 1778 by repeating again and again that to exist in pain is -better, far better, than to cease to exist altogether. These and other -revelations of Johnson’s conversation have perhaps led us to exaggerate -his habitual terror. There are, at least, instances to be drawn from -less hackneyed sources which display his attitude towards eternity less -painfully. Of these perhaps the most remarkable is that recorded in the -<i>Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides</i>, when, on a calm Sunday afternoon, -sailing from Ramsay to Skye, Johnson delivered himself of a little -homily. The text was a passage from <i>The Cypress Grove</i> of Drummond -of Hawthornden, which Boswell had happened to quote. Drummond had -said that a man should leave life as cheerfully as a visitor who has -examined an antiquary’s cabinet sees the curtain drawn again, and makes -way to admit fresh pilgrims to the show. Johnson stripped the conceit -to the skin, as he was in the habit of doing:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> “Yes, sir, if he is sure he is to be well after -he goes out of it. But if he is to grow blind after he goes out of -the show-room, and never to see anything again, or if he does not -know whither he is to go next, a man will not go cheerfully out of a -show-room. No wise man will be contented to die if he thinks he is to -go into a state of punishment. Nay, no wise man will be contented to -die, if he thinks he is to fall into annihilation, for however unhappy -any man’s existence may be, he would rather have it than not exist -at all. No; there is no rational principle by which a man can die -contented, but a trust in the mercy of God, through the merits of Jesus Christ.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> -The baldness of this statement, the resolute contempt of the author -of it for the mere dress and ornament of language, throw not a little -light upon the reason why, after the lapse of a hundred years, we still -listen with so quick an interest and so personal an affection to all -that is recorded of Johnson’s speech. The age in which we live cannot -be entirely given up to priggishness and the dry rot of sentiment, so -long as any considerable company in it are wont to hang upon Johnson’s -lips, without being offended by his jocular brutality, his strenuous -piety, or his unflinching enmity to affectation. Of course a class -still exists, perhaps it never was more numerous than it now is, whose -nerves and lungs can endure the strong light and tonic air of Johnson’s -vigorous genius, and who rejoice to think that no one ever tamed their -tiger-cat. To these such an anniversary as the present, not needed to -remind them of one who is almost as real to them as any of their own -relations, is yet valuable as giving them a landmark from which they -may look back and judge the effect that distance has upon the apparent -and relative size of such a figure. This can be the only excuse, in a -brief note such as this must be, for dealing with facts and personages -which are the absolute commonplaces of literary history. We may know -our Boswell by heart, and be prepared to pass a searching examination -in <i>Rasselas</i> and in the <i>Rambler</i>, and yet be ready to listen for -a moment with surprise to the voice which reminds us that a century has -passed away since the great pontiff of literature died.</p> - -<p>How then does the noble and familiar figure strike us in looking -backward from the year 1884? In “constant repercussion from one coxcomb -to another,” have the sounds which he continued to make through a -career of stormy talk ceased to preserve all their value and importance -for us? How does he affect our critical vision now that we observe in -relief against him such later talker-seers as Coleridge, De Quincey, -and Carlyle? To these questions it is temperament more than literary -acumen which will suggest the replies; and the present writer has no -intention at this particular moment of attempting to forestall the -general opinion of the age. His only object in putting forth this brief -note is to lay stress on the curious importance of temperament in -dealing with what seems like a purely literary difficulty. The -personality of all other English writers, in prose and verse, even of -Pope, even of De Quincey, must eventually yield in interest to the -qualities of their writing. In Dr. Johnson alone the writings yield to -the personality, and in spite of the wonder of foreign critics such as -M. Taine, he remains, and will remain, although practically unread, one -of the most potent of English men of letters.</p> - -<p>Must we not admit now, at the close of a century, that it is -practically impossible to read him? Among the lesser men that -surrounded him, there are many who have outstripped him in literary -vitality. In verse he lags far behind Gray and Collins, Churchill -and Chatterton; nay, if the <i>Wanderer</i> were by Johnson and <i>London</i> -by Savage, the former would possess more readers than the latter -now attracts. In prose, who shall venture to say that Johnson is -the equal of Fielding, Smollett, Hume, Goldsmith, Gibbon, or Burke? -We know that he is far less entertaining, far less versatile and -brilliant, than any one of these. The <i>Discourses</i> of his direct -disciple Reynolds are more often read, and with more pleasure, than -those essays of <i>The Rambler</i> from which their style was taken. As a -dramatist, as a novelist, Johnson ranks below <i>Douglas</i> Home, below -the inventor of <i>Peter Wilkins</i>. For years he labored upon what was -not literature at all, for other years on literature which the world -has been obliged, against its will, to allow to disappear. When all -is winnowed away which has become, in itself, interesting only to -scholars, there remains <i>The Vanity of Human Wishes</i>, a gnomic poem -of tedious morality, singularly feeble in the second joint of almost -every recurring distich; <i>Rasselas</i>, a <i>conte</i> in the French taste, -insufferable in its lumbering machinery and pedantic ethics; the <i>Lives -of the Poets</i>, in which prejudice, ignorance, and taste combine to -irritate the connoisseur and bewilder the student. Such, with obvious -exaggeration, and with wilful suppression of exceptional facts, the -surviving literary labors of Johnson may be broadly described to be. -The paradox is that a Johnsonian may admit all that, and yet hold to it -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> -that his hero is the principal Englishman of letters throughout the -rich second half of the eighteenth century. In this Johnson is unique. -Coleridge, for instance, was much more than a writer of readable -works in prose and verse; but let an age arrive in which the <i>Ancient -Mariner</i>, <i>Christabel</i>, and the <i>Biographia Literaria</i> are no longer -read or admired, and Coleridge will scarcely be able, on the score -of his personality alone, to retain his lofty position among men of -letters. Yet this is what Johnson promises to succeed in continuing -to do. No one will ever say again, with Byron, that the <i>Lives of the -Poets</i> is “the finest critical work extant,” but that does not make -Johnson ever so little a less commanding figure to us than he was to Byron.</p> - -<p>Let us consider for one moment the case of the unfortunate tragedy -of <i>Irene</i>. There are very few of us who are capable of placing our -hands upon our bosoms in the open sight of heaven and swearing that we -have ever read it quite through. The <i>Mourning Bride</i> still counts its -admirers, and even <i>Cato</i>, but not <i>Irene</i>. Who among the staunchest -and strongest Johnsonians can tell what hero it was that confessed, and -upon what occasion,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“I thought (forgive me, fair!) the noblest aim,</span> -<span class="i0">The strongest effort of a female soul</span> -<span class="i0">Was but to choose the graces of the day.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="no-indent">without peeping furtively at the text? -Nevertheless <i>Irene</i> lives and always will live in the memory of -men. But while other dramas exist on the strength of their dramatic -qualities, this of Johnson’s lives on the personal qualities of the -author himself. It is not the blank, blank verse, nor the heroine’s -reflections regarding the mind of the Divine Being, nor the thrilling -Turkish fable, nor the snip-snap dialogue about prodigies between -Leontius and Demetrius, that preserves the memory of this tragedy. It -is the anecdote of how Walmsley asked, melted by the sorrows of Irene, -“How can you possibly contrive to plunge her into deeper calamity?” and -how Johnson answered, with a reference to his friend’s office, “Sir, I -can put her into the spiritual court!” It is the eagerness which George -III. expressed to possess the original MS. of the play. It is the -monstrous folly which made Cave suppose that the Royal Society would -be a likely body to purchase the copyright of it. It is the screams -of the audience at Drury Lane when they saw Mrs. Pritchard with the -bowstring round her neck. It is the garb in which Johnson insisted on -dressing to look on at the performance, in a scarlet waistcoat, and -with a gold-laced hat on his head. It is the tragedian’s unparalleled -frankness about the white silk stockings. These are the things which we -recall when <i>Irene</i> is mentioned, and if the play had been performed -in dumb show, if it had been a ballet, an opera, or a farce, its place -in literary history would be just where it is, no higher and no lower. -Such is the curious fate which attends all Johnson’s works, the most -interesting of them is not so interesting as the stories which cluster -around its authorship.</p> - -<p class="space-below3">This personal interest which we all feel in the sayings -and doings of Johnson is founded so firmly on his broad humanity that we need -not have the slightest fear of its cessation or diminution. The habits of -thought and expression which were in vogue in the eighteenth century -may repeat themselves, as some of us expect, in the twentieth, or our -children may become more captious, more violent, more ungraceful in -their tastes than we are ourselves. The close of the preface to the -<i>Dictionary</i> may cease to seem pathetic, or may win more tributes of -tears than ever. The reputation of Johnson does not stand or fall by -the appetite of modern readers for the <i>Life of Savage</i> or even for -the <i>Letter to Lord Chesterfield</i>. It depends on the impossibility of -human beings ever ceasing to watch with curiosity “the very pulse of -the machine” when it is displayed as Johnson displayed it through the -fortunate indiscretions of his friends, and when it is on the whole so -manly, wholesome, brave, honest, and tender as it was in his. There -will always be readers and admirers of what Johnson wrote. Let us -welcome them; but let us not imagine that Johnson, as a great figure -in letters, depends upon their suffrages. The mighty Samuel Johnson, -the anniversary of whose death both hemispheres of the English-speaking -race will solemnise on the 13th of this month, is not the author -of this or that laborious contribution to prose or verse, but the -convulsive invalid who “see-sawed” over the Grotius, the courageous old -Londoner who trusted his bones among the stormy Hebrides, the autocrat -of the Literary Club, the lover of all the company of blue-stockings, -the unequalled talker, the sweet and formidable friend, the truculent -boon-companion, the child-like Christian, who, for all his ghostly -terrors, contrived at last “to die contented, trusting in the mercy of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> -God, through the merits of Jesus Christ.” If the completed century -finds us with any change at all of our feelings regarding him, it -is surely merely this, that the passage of time is steadily making -his faults seem more superficial and accidental, and his merits more -striking, more essential, more pathetical and pleasing.—<i>Fortnightly Review.</i></p> - -<h2>THE DEMOCRATIC VICTORY IN AMERICA.</h2> - -<p class="center space-below1"><b>BY WILLIAM HENRY HURLBURT.</b></p> - -<p>The United States being, and having been from the outset of their -history, a Democratic Republic, it may well puzzle a European reader -to understand why American “Republicans” should bewail a “Democratic” -triumph, or American “Democrats” exult in the overthrow of a -“Republican” party.</p> - -<p>Yet it may not be impertinent to suggest that in no country are -the names of political parties or factions commonly selected by a -committee of philologists with an eye to making the national politics -intelligible. What notions of English history are conveyed by the mere -names of “Whig” and “Tory” or even of “Liberal” and “Conservative” to -a person unfamiliar with the political history of England? What light -is thrown on the history of Byzantium by talking of the “Blues” and the -“Greens,” or on the history of Florence by casual references to the -“Bianchi” and the “Neri”?</p> - -<p>When one asks for the origin of such names, history is apt to give him -no better answer than that of the small African child who was invited -by a sympathetic lady to explain how she came to have six toes on one -of her feet—“they growed so!”</p> - -<p class="space-below3">This is so emphatically true of American -political parties that my readers must pardon me if I take them back to -the “beginnings of things” for an accurate perspective of the recent -Presidential election in the United States, and of its significance.</p> - -<p>The existing Constitution of the American Union was adopted in 1789 by -the citizens of thirteen new-born Republics who had grown up to manhood -in the then anomalous condition of subjects of the British Crown -enjoying all the privileges and immunities of local self-government -in thirteen distinct and independent colonies which differed among -themselves in origin, in social traditions and habits, and in religion, -almost as widely as Wales differs from Ireland, or Ireland from -Scotland. These colonies had co-operated from time to time with the -mother country for the common defence against a common enemy, colonial -France. And they had been united under a temporary political bond in -the great revolutionary war of 1776, by a common spirit of resistance -to that Parliamentary despotism, tempered by corruption, which after -the English Revolution of 1688 and the establishment of the House of -Hanover assumed to itself the place originally held by the British -Crown in the allegiance of these stalwart “Home-Rulers” beyond the Atlantic.</p> - -<p>At the peace of Versailles in 1783 Great Britain found herself -compelled to recognize the independence of all and of each of these -colonies, which thenceforth took their places in the family of nations -as separate and sovereign states. They were recognized in this -capacity not in block, but severally and individually, each by its -own territorial designation; and from the moment of such recognition -each of them felt that it was absolutely free, and “of right ought to -be free,” saving so far as it had bound itself to the then existing -confederacy of 1778, to adopt any form of government which might suit -the humor of its citizens, and to form any alliances advantageous to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> -its own interests. The States were, indeed, at that moment bound -together for certain specified purposes by a federal compact formed -during the war in 1778; but this compact sate so lightly upon them -that it was not only impossible to compel the several States into an -exact fulfilment of confederate obligations, but very difficult even -to induce them to get themselves properly represented under it for -legislative and executive purposes at the then federal capital of -Annapolis in Maryland. A striking illustration of this is given in a -private letter, now in my possession, written by Thomas Jefferson of -Virginia, the author of the Declaration of Independence of 1776, and -eventually the founder of that great Democratic party under the Union -of 1789, which now once more, after a quarter of a century of extra -constitutional experiments in government, has been commissioned by -the voters of the United States, in the election to the Presidency -of Governor Cleveland of New York, to restore in all its parts, and -re-establish on its original and enduring foundations, the sway of the -Federal Constitution of 1789. Writing from Annapolis to a friend in -Virginia in regard to the negotiations at Paris which had secured the -recognition of American Independence, Mr. Jefferson, in December 1783, -complains bitterly of the indifference of the States to this momentous -event. Under the ninth article of the then existing confederate compact -of 1778, the assent of nine States represented in the Congress at -Annapolis assembled was necessary to the ratification of any treaty -with a foreign power. The time fixed for the ratification by Congress -of the Treaty of Versailles was rapidly running out at the date of the -letter to which I refer, and the Congress had been long in session. -“We had yesterday, for the first time, seven States,” exclaims Mr. -Jefferson; and he goes on to express his concern lest the necessary -quorum of nine States should not be assembled before the expiration of -the term fixed for ratification in the treaty by which, after seven -years of an exhausting war, their independence was to be established!</p> - -<p>I dwell on this point in order to emphasise the truth, vital to any -intelligent appreciation of the great change now impending in the -administration of public affairs in the United States, that the -commonwealths by which the American Union was established were, -from the first, in the opinion of their inhabitants, sufficient -each unto itself; and this because each of these commonwealths was -indeed a well-organised body politic, the members of which had long -managed their domestic affairs under one or another form of chartered -authority, after their own fashion; and, for the protection within -their own borders of life and of property, had adjusted to their -several situations and necessities the maxims and principles of English -liberty defined and guarded by law. These States were the creators, -not the creatures of that “more perfect Union” which (the Confederacy -of 1778 failing) was finally formed by them after all its features had -been discussed, debated, and redebated, not only in a Convention of the -States assembled for that purpose in 1787, but in the several States -subsequently, with a fulness, vigor of thought, and intelligence which, -in the opinion of others than my own countrymen, make the volumes of -Elliott’s <i>Debates on the Constitution</i> the most valuable treasury of -constitutional politics in existence.</p> - -<p>The framers of the American Constitution of 1789 were no rude -uninstructed settlers, summoned from the axe and the plough to -improvise an orderly government. The traditions of the older States -went back to the struggle between the prerogative and the taxpayers -of England under the Stuart kings. Virginia, the “Old Dominion” of -Elizabeth and the Restoration, with her Established Church, her College -of William and Mary, and her legends of the Cavaliers, was in no -hurry to believe that her consequence could be much enhanced by any -merger of her sovereignty in that of a federal union with Charles the -Second’s Crown colony of Rhode Island, and with the gallant little -community which keeps green on the banks of the Delaware the memory -of the self-sacrificing and heroic Thomas West. The colonial story -of the great central State of New York had made its sturdy people -familiar with those ideas of federated liberty on which the fabric -of Netherlandish independence had been founded. The curious in such -matters have found an indication of the extent to which the spirit of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> -the Netherlands influenced the framers of the new American republic -in the fact that when the style and title to be taken by the American -President were under consideration, Washington inclined to the notion -that the Chief Magistrate should be addressed and known as -“His High Mightiness.”</p> - -<p>Nor were the citizens of the youngest of the colonies disposed to put -the control of their persons and their purses unreservedly into the -hands of any imperial central authority.</p> - -<p>After the Constitution of 1789 (to take the date from the day, April -30, 1789, on which Washington was inaugurated at New York as the -first President of the United States) had been definitely adopted by -eleven States, the two States of North Carolina and Rhode Island still -withholding their ratification of the instrument, remained as foreign -powers outside of the Union, the former until the 21st of November -1789, and the latter until the 29th of May 1790.</p> - -<p>A notable date this last!</p> - -<p>Never was a great compact more opportunely framed and ratified!</p> - -<p>Almost upon the morrow of these final adhesions to the “more perfect -Union,” the storm of the French Revolution broke upon the world, -bringing with it great international convulsions which affected every -nerve and fibre of the social, political, and industrial life of -America, and tested to the utmost every seam and joint in the fabric -of the new American Republic. The excesses of Jacobinism in France -strengthened the doubts and fears of many excellent persons in America -who had small faith in the capacity of the people for self-government -on a grand scale, and who accepted the Constitution of 1789 not as a -final and trustworthy frame of polity, but because, while they thought -it, to use the language of one of the ablest of their number, “frail -and worthless in itself,” they hoped to see it lead up to the eventual -establishment of some such “splendid central government” as in our own -times Mr. Seward, the true founder of the “Republican” party which has -just been defeated in the United States, used to dream of and did his -best to build up.</p> - -<p>The influence of these doubts and fears upon the politics of the new -American Republic was fortunately met and countered by the genius and -the faith of a group of great American statesmen, the friends and -associates of Thomas Jefferson; and the fundamental divergence between -the controlling ideas of the two great parties which now occupy the -field of American politics goes back to this closing decade of the -eighteenth century. When the existing Constitution was first submitted -by the Convention of 1787 to the people and to the States, those who, -with Alexander Hamilton of New York, and James Madison of Virginia, -advocated its adoption were called “Federalists”, and those who, with -Samuel Adams of Massachusetts, and Patrick Henry of Virginia, opposed -it as threatening the rights and sovereignty of the States, were -called Anti-Federalists. After its adoption the latter party took the -name of “Strict Constructionists,” their object being to bind down -the administration of the new system to the closest and most rigid -interpretation of the powers conferred by the States upon the Federal -Government; while their opponents were styled “Broad Constructionists.” -Both parties happily had such confidence in the patriotism and wisdom -of Washington that he came into power as first President by a unanimous -vote, and selected his first cabinet from the leaders of both the great -parties which had contended over the adoption and the construction of -the new Constitution. At the first session of the first Congress, in -1789, ten amendments to the Constitution were adopted, embodying a -Bill of Rights to secure the liberties of the citizens of the several -States, and explicitly reserving to the several States “respectively” -or to the people, “all the powers not delegated to the United States by -the Constitution nor prohibited by it to the States.” These amendments -Thomas Jefferson counselled the friends of Home Rule and State Rights -to accept as an adequate guarantee of both. His wise advice was taken, -and the great political party which was formed under the Constitution -took, at his suggestion, the name of the “Republican Party.” The name -was appropriate enough to that party which held each State of the new -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> -Union to be indeed an independent “Republic,” and regarded the -“Federal” Government as the agent and protector of the “Republican” -independence of each State.</p> - -<p>It gathered to itself a kind of passion, too, in the popular heart from -the then very general conviction that the leaders, at least, of the -“Federalist” party secretly desired to see these “Republics” disappear -into some form of centralised monarchy.</p> - -<p>As the French Revolution grew more portentous and interesting, and its -agents busied themselves with efforts to draw America into the European -contest as an ally, or rather as a dependency, of Republican France, -the political antagonism of the “Federalists” and the “Republicans” -grew dangerously high and hot. Men wore French or English Cockades in -the streets of New York and Philadelphia. A distinguished public man -of Massachusetts once told me that his earliest recollection of any -political event took him back to a day on which a friend of his father, -who was a leading Federalist of Massachusetts, met him in the streets -coming home from school, and, giving him a bright Spanish dollar, said, -“Now, Jack, run as fast as you can to your father’s court, and tell him -from me that Robert Spear’s head has been cut off, and he must give you -just such another dollar!” News came at long intervals then from Europe -to America, and the tidings of the fall of Robespierre had that morning -reached Boston.</p> - -<p>Under the stress of these emotions the “Republicans” took to denouncing -the “Federalists” as “Monocrats” and “Anglomen,” and the “Federalists” -retorted by reviling their opponents as “Jacobins” and “Democrats.”</p> - -<p>The “Federalist” party held its own during the two Presidencies of -Washington, and elected John Adams to succeed the “Father of his -country” in 1796. Under the Presidency of Mr. Adams the “Federalists” -lost their heads, and the “Republicans” in the year 1800 took -possession of power under the first Presidency of Thomas Jefferson. -They had for some time been known commonly as “Democratic Republicans,” -and in the ninth Congress which met under the second Presidency of -Jefferson in 1805 they boldly took the name of “Democrats,” in the -spirit of good Bishop Willegis, who put the wagoner’s wheel into -his coat-of-arms, and like the “Gueux,” the “Huguenots,” and the -“Roundheads,” extracting “glory out of bitterness.”</p> - -<p class="space-below3">From that time to this the “Democratic” party -has continued to be what Jefferson made it, the party of “Home Rule” -as opposed to centralisation, and of a strict construction of the -organic law by which the provisions and the limitations of Federal -power are sanctioned and defined, as against that plausible paternalism -under cover of which, in the language of a great living leader of the -Democratic party, Senator Bayard of Delaware, “the general government -assumes guardianship and protection over the business of the private -citizen, and functions of control over matters of domestic and local interest.”</p> - -<p>If I have enabled my readers to estimate aright the vital importance -attached by the people of the several States in the formation of -the Constitution to the recognition of the rights and the reserved -sovereignty of the States, they will not be surprised to learn that -when Thomas Jefferson established the Democratic party upon this -recognition as its fundamental principle he secured for the Democratic -party such a profound and permanent hold upon the confidence and the -affections of the American people as can never be shaken while the -Union remains what it was meant to be. For forty years after his first -Presidency, no combinations succeeded in wresting from the Democrats -the control of the executive authority. The only apparent exception to -this statement confirms it. In the Presidential election of 1824, the -electoral ticket of General Jackson, the leading Democratic candidate, -received a considerable majority of the votes of the people; but as -there were four candidates in the field, and General Jackson did -not secure a majority of the votes of all the electoral colleges, -the choice of a President went, under the Constitution, into the -lower House of Congress, in which the members vote for a President -not individually as representing the people, but by delegations as -representing the sovereign States. John Quincy Adams secured a majority -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> -of the delegations; but such was the popular indignation that in the -next House of Representatives President Adams found himself confronted -by an overwhelming opposition; and at the end of his term of office -General Jackson was made President by a majority of more than two -to one against him. Jackson was twice elected, and transmitted his -power to his Secretary of State, Martin Van Buren of New York, in the -election of 1836. Between the years 1840 and 1860 the predominance of -the Democratic party was but twice disturbed. In 1840 the Democratic -President Van Buren, being a candidate for re-election, was defeated -after a very severe struggle by General Harrison, the candidate of a -conglomerate party which, for lack of a better, had taken the name -of the “Whig” party, and which represented in a general way the -Anti-Democratic classes of the country, and more particularly the -banking interests and the Protectionists, of whom more hereafter. The -real and brilliant leader of this party, Henry Clay of Kentucky, had -been deprived of the presidential nomination through the machinations -of a nominating device unknown to the Constitution, called a -“Presidential Convention;” and though the Whig candidate secured a -great majority in the electoral colleges, thanks to the skill with -which his managers played upon the financial distress of the country -caused by a great business panic in 1837, yet when he unexpectedly -died at the end of a single short month after his inauguration, the -Vice-President elected with him and who succeeded him, Mr. Tyler -of Virginia, originally a Democrat, was found to be opposed to the -rechartering of a United States Bank; and a bill passed by both Houses -for that purpose, which had been indeed the main purpose of the leading -Whigs in promoting the election of Harrison and Tyler, was twice vetoed -by him. This was the first lesson given to the American people of the -potential importance of the Vice-Presidency in case of the death or -disability of the President. Curiously enough, the same lesson, which -has been repeated several times since, has, in every instance, with one -exception, followed upon the election of a President by Anti-Democratic votes.</p> - -<p>Henry Clay, who was enthusiastically nominated and supported by the -“Whig” party for the Presidency at the close of President Tyler’s -administration in 1844, was defeated by the Democratic nominee, Mr. -Polk of Tennessee, under whom the annexation of the magnificent -Republic of Texas to the United States was consummated, with its -inevitable corollary of a war with Mexico, that republic refusing to -acknowledge the right of the people of Texas to sever their connection -with the Mexican States. This war led immediately to the cession -by Mexico to the United States of New Mexico, California, and the -Northern Pacific coast of the old Spanish dominions in North America, -and ultimately to the settlement of the boundary lines on the Pacific -between the dominions of Great Britain and the United States. At the -close of President Polk’s administration, the “Whigs,” who had been -disheartened and “demoralised” by the defeat of their “magnetic” -leader, Henry Clay, in 1844, made a second effort to capture executive -power. The occasion was offered to them by a schism in the Democratic -party, which had begun on personal grounds when Ex-President Van Buren, -who desired a renomination, was set aside in 1844 for Mr. Polk, and -which was intensified on broader issues by the determination of many -Northern Democrats not to permit the extension of slavery into the vast -and splendid territories acquired under President Polk.</p> - -<p>It is far from being true, as I shall presently show, that the -“Republican” party, so called, of our own times, which has just been -defeated under Mr. Blaine, originated the political action in the -United States which finally led to the extinction of slavery as an act -of war by President Lincoln. The “Republican” party of our own times, -deriving its origin from the “Federalists” of the last century, through -the “Whigs” of 1840, has been recently and not unfairly described by -Mr. John Bright as the “party of Protection and Monopoly.” This is so -far true that it represents those tendencies to a plausible paternalism -in government, and to a consolidation of the Federal power at the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> -expense of Home Rule and State sovereignty, which found expression -in Federalism at the beginning of our history; which threatened the -secession of New England and the establishment of an “Eastern Empire” -when Louisiana was purchased from France under President Jefferson; -which waged the “war of the banks” against President Jackson; and which -founded the “Whig” party of Henry Clay upon the doctrine that the -Federal Government might lawfully and constitutionally levy taxes upon -the consumers of imported goods for the express purpose of enhancing -the profits of domestic manufacturers.</p> - -<p>Governor Wright, a Democratic predecessor of Governor Cleveland in -the executive chair of the “Empire State,” who had supported the -renomination of Ex-President Van Buren in 1844, led, until his sudden -and lamented death in 1847, the opposition of Northern sentiment, after -the annexation of Texas, to any extension of slavery beyond the limits -assigned to it by the famous “Missouri Compromise” of 1820. The Whig -forerunners of Mr. Blaine were discreetly silent on the subject, and -the question was thrown into the arena of political discussion and -agitation by a Democratic Member of Congress from Pennsylvania, Mr. -Wilmot, who, during the boundary negotiations with Mexico, introduced -and moved the adoption of a “proviso,” that “no part of the territory -to be acquired should be open to the introduction of slavery.”</p> - -<p>This “proviso” was obviously unnecessary to the exclusion of slavery -from any “part of the territory to be acquired,” for negro slavery -had been long before abolished in New Mexico and in California under -Mexican law; and the Democratic party of the United States had laid it -down as a cardinal principle of Democratic policy, involved indeed, as -many Democrats thought, in the principle of Home Rule, that there was -“no power in Congress to legislate upon slavery in the Territories.” -The introduction of the “proviso” therefore led, and could lead, solely -to an immediately sterile, but eventually most dangerous, inflammation -of the public mind on the question of the relations of slavery, as an -institution already existing within the Union, to the politics of the -country. The “proviso” was defeated in Congress; but the discussion had -aroused the abolitionists of the North on the one hand, and the extreme -pro-slavery men at the South on the other side, into loud and angry -debate; and the opportunity of “forcing an issue” was seized by Mr. -Calhoun of South Carolina, a man of the highest character and of keen -intellect, who honestly believed that the South must be sooner or later -driven in self-defence to withdraw from the Union, and who had brought -his State and himself in 1832, on the question of the right of a State -to “nullify” a Federal law, within striking distance of the executive -authority wielded by the iron hand of President Jackson.</p> - -<p>Mr. Calhoun introduced into the Senate, on the 19th of February, 1847, -a series of resolutions denying the right of Congress to pass any law -which would have the effect of preventing any citizen of a slave State -from carrying slaves as his property into any territory. No vote was -taken on these resolutions, but they served Mr. Calhoun’s purpose of -awakening public sentiment at the South to the threatening attitude of -the anti-slavery sentiment at the North.</p> - -<p>The “Whigs,” with whom Mr. Lincoln then acted, profited adroitly by -this excitement in both sections. They avoided the subject of slavery -altogether, and nominated for the Presidency in 1848 General Taylor, -a slaveholder of Louisiana, who had won a wide and well-deserved -popularity as a military commander in the Mexican war, and a man -of “moderate” views on all subjects. With him they associated -Mr. Fillmore, a respectable citizen of New York. The friends of -Ex-President Van Buren united in that State with the anti-slavery men -in an independent nomination of Ex-President Van Buren and Mr. Charles -Francis Adams, as the candidates of a new third party which took the -name of the “Free Soil” party. This party declared that Congress had -no right to interfere with slavery in the States in which it already -existed; that it was the duty of Congress to prohibit slavery in the -Territories; and that Congress had a constitutional right to abolish -slavery in the Federal district of Columbia, which is the seat of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> -Federal Government. The result of all this was the election of Taylor -and Fillmore, who received 163 votes in the electoral colleges against -127 cast for Cass and Butler, the Democratic candidates, and a popular -plurality over those candidates of less than 150,000 in a total of -somewhat less than 3,000,000 votes.</p> - -<p>But the “Whig” triumph was short-lived. The gold discoveries in -California gave such a sudden and tremendous impetus to the settlement -of the new Pacific empire of the Union as “forced the hand” of the new -Administration; and General Taylor dying in July 1849, while Congress -and the country were hotly contending over the social and political -organization of that new empire, his successor, Mr. Fillmore, with -Daniel Webster as his Secretary of State, threw the weight of the -Administration against the anti-slavery agitation and in favor of what -were called the “Compromise Measures” of 1850. These measures admitted -California without extending to the Pacific the boundary line between -free and slave territory fixed by the “Missouri Compromise” of 1820, -and left slavery untouched in the Federal district. Of course such a -compromise neither quieted the alarms of the slaveholding South nor -satisfied the aggressive abolitionists of the North. But the country -accepted it, and at the next Presidential election, in 1852, the -Democratic candidate, General Pierce of New Hampshire, was elected by -an overwhelming majority, carrying four of the New England States, -the great Middle States of New York and Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, -Indiana, and Illinois at the West, all the Southern States, excepting -Kentucky and Tennessee, and the new State on the Pacific, California. -He received 254 electoral votes against 42 thrown for his Whig -antagonist, General Scott, who had led the armies of the Union to their -crowning victories in Mexico, and who had been a conspicuous military -personage in the United States ever since the second war of 1812 with -Great Britain.</p> - -<p>There could scarcely have been a more decisive proof than this election -gave that the Democratic party of the United States is really the -permanent and enduring “party of the people,” without distinction of -sections; for the tremendous victory won by General Pierce was -distinctly due to the general, though, as it proved, the mistaken, -impression of the masses of the people, that the irritating question -of slavery in its Federal relations had been taken out of the arena -of politics by the “Compromise Measures” of 1850. This was so clear -that the opponents of the Democratic party, representing the shattered -elements of the Whig party and the friends, as Mr. Bright would say, -of “Protection and Monopoly,” changed front suddenly and concentrated -all their efforts on a revival and extension of the anti-slavery -agitation, as being the only program which offered them a hope of -breaking down again, even for a time, the ascendency of Democratic -principles. In this effort they were naturally seconded not only by the -Northern abolitionists, but by the extreme partisans of slavery at the -South. The value of slave property had been enormously increased by -the sudden development of trade and manufactures all over the world, -and especially in Great Britain and the United States, which resulted -from the gold discoveries in California and Australia, and from the -adoption, first in the United States under a great Democratic Secretary -of the Treasury, Robert J. Walker, in 1846, of a liberal tariff, and -then, in Great Britain, of what is not perhaps with perfect accuracy -called the “Free Trade” policy of Mr. Bright and Mr. Cobden. One -might almost say that the cotton manufacturers of Lancashire and New -England fell into a conspiracy to delude the slaveholders of the South -into those dreams of a vast slaveholding empire surrounding the Gulf -of Mexico, which began, at the period of which I now write, to shake -the foundations of the Union by fascinating the minds of grasping and -ambitious men in that part of the United States.</p> - -<p>In February, 1853, before the inauguration of President Pierce, -a Democratic Senator, Mr. Douglas, of Illinois, who had been an -unsuccessful candidate for the Presidential nomination in the preceding -year, took the occasion presented by a bill for organizing a new -Western Territory, Nebraska (which included the two now existing States -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> -of Nebraska and of Kansas), to propose a repeal of the old “Missouri -Compromise,” to which I have more than once alluded. By this measure—a -“Federalist,” not a Democratic measure—adopted in 1820, it was -provided that slavery should never be carried into any Territory north -of the fixed line of 36° 30´ north latitude. I have already mentioned -that Congress refused to extend this line to the Pacific during the -discussions which attended the admission of California in 1850; and -I am sure that no one who knew Senator Douglas will differ from me -now, when I say that he undoubtedly hoped by urging the repeal of the -Missouri Compromise, which was voted by Congress the 25th of May, -1854, to get the whole question whether slavery should or should not -be introduced into new Territories, and so into the new States of the -Union, relegated from the domain of Congressional action into that -of “popular sovereignty.” It was not the purpose either of the small -minority at the South who desired disunion as the first step towards -the founding of a “semi-tropical empire,” or of the more considerable -minority at the North who preferred the risk of disunion to the -toleration of slavery under the American flag, that this question -should be taken out of the domain of Congressional action, and the -expectations of Senator Douglas were disappointed. The repeal of the -“Missouri Compromise” simply turned Kansas into a battle-ground. It led -rapidly up to a succession of armed conflicts within that Territory -between organised bands of Northern and of Southern “emigrants,” which -set fire to the popular passions in both sections of the country, -“swamped” the attempt of a section of the now disbanding “Whig” party -to capture power by organising the prejudices of race and of religion -into a secret political order of “Native Americans” or “Know-nothings,” -and gave vitality and success to the more serious and sustained efforts -of a much larger section of the “Whigs,” who devoted themselves to -founding a new party which should combine the permanent objects “of -Protection and Monopoly” with the temporary and immediate object of -restricting slavery within the limits of the then existing slave -States. Thanks to this section of the “Whigs,” the modern “Republican -Party” was formed in 1854, which, after precipitating the country -into civil war by the election of President Lincoln (against whom it -revolted, as I shall show, when he had carried through to victory the -terrible task it imposed upon him), after retarding the pacification -of the Union for years by its policy of military “reconstruction” at -the South, and after inflicting upon the taxpayers of the United States -burdens undreamed of by the original “Whigs” in their most extravagant -days of “paternalism,” has now finally come to the ground under the -candidacy of two of its most thoroughly representative leaders, Mr. -Blaine and General Logan.</p> - -<p>The chief spirit of the new “Republican” party was Ex-Governor -Seward, the leader of the Whigs of New York, a consummate politician, -“honest himself,” as one of his special friends said of him, “but -indifferent to honesty in others,” who labored with uncommon skill -and adroitness for six years to build the new organisation up into -Presidential proportions, only to experience the common fate of such -party leaders in the United States, and to find himself set aside by -his own Republican Convention of 1860, at Chicago, in favor of the then -relatively obscure Western candidate Abraham Lincoln, of Illinois.</p> - -<p>The old name “Republican” used by the party of Jefferson was taken by -the new party for the express purpose of dissimulating, as far as might -be, its “Whig” parentage, and of thus recommending it to the widespread -and growing anti-slavery element among the Democrats of the North -and West. The Whig origin and tendencies of the new party, however, -clearly appeared in the demand made in its first platform of 1856 for -“appropriations by Congress for the improvement of rivers and harbors.” -It selected as its first Presidential candidate in 1856 Colonel John -C. Fremont of California, an officer of the army who had married the -daughter of an eminent Democratic senator, Mr. Benton of Missouri, and -who had acquired a kind of romantic popular prestige as “the Pathfinder -of the Rocky Mountains” by an expedition across the continent. With him -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> -was associated as Vice-Presidential candidate a man of more political -weight and force, Mr. Dayton, a Whig leader, of New Jersey, who -afterwards rendered the country distinguished services as Minister -to France under President Lincoln. Mr. Buchanan of Pennsylvania was -nominated by the Democrats to succeed President Pierce in 1856. In the -“platform” then adopted the Democratic party met the “Protectionist” -tendency of the new “Republican” organisation by declaring “that -justice and sound policy forbid the Federal Government to foster one -branch of industry to the detriment of another;” denounced the attempt -of the Whig “Know-Nothings” to organise a crusade against Catholics -and citizens of alien birth; and in the matter of slavery reaffirmed -“the compromise of 1850,” and committed itself to “the determined -conservation of the Union and the non-interference of Congress with -slavery in the territories or the district of Columbia.”</p> - -<p>The new “Republican party” in its “platform” of 1856, let me here -observe, raised no question touching slavery where slavery then -existed, but pronounced it to be “both the right and the imperative -duty of Congress to prohibit in the Territories those twin relics of -barbarism, polygamy and slavery;” this latter attack on the Mormons -being a bid for votes at the West and an appeal to the religious -prejudices of the East.</p> - -<p>A third remnant of the old “Whigs,” meeting in Baltimore in September -1856, appealed to the country to beware of “geographical parties,” -adopted the nomination made by the Whig “Know-Nothings” of Ex-President -Fillmore, and asserted that in Kansas “civil war” was “raging,” and -that the Union was “in peril.” The contest was conducted by the -Republicans at the North very much on the lines on which the first -Whig victory of 1840 had been won—by the organisation, that is, of -“Pathfinder Clubs” and processions, with brass bands, bonfires, and all -the paraphernalia of “politics by picnic,” and a large popular vote was -cast for the Republican candidate. But Mr. Buchanan, nevertheless had a -majority of nearly 500,000 votes over Colonel Fremont at the polls in a -total vote of about three millions, and he was elected President by -174 votes in the Electoral College, eight votes being cast by Maryland -for Mr. Fillmore, and 114 votes being cast for Colonel Fremont, if the -five votes of Wisconsin were properly included in that number—a very -grave question as to that point being raised by the undisputed fact -that the electoral votes of Wisconsin, which, under an obviously wise -precept of the Constitution, ought to have been cast on the same day -with the electoral votes of all the other States of the Union (December -3, 1856), were not cast until the next day (December 4) because the -electors were prevented by a snowstorm from reaching the capital of the -State in season to comply with the behest of the organic law.</p> - -<p>Events moved rapidly after the election of President Buchanan. In spite -of a great financial panic in 1857, the commerce of the United States, -under the salutary régime established by Democratic Secretaries of the -Treasury, advanced beyond all former precedent. The net imports of the -United States increased from 298,261,364 dollars in 1856, the year of -Mr. Buchanan’s election, to 335,233,232 dollars in 1860, the last year -of his administration, and the exports from 310,586,330 dollars in 1856 -to 373,189,274 dollars in 1860. The sea going tonnage of the Union -ran up to that of Great Britain;<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> -and never had the country been so prosperous as during this period of -Democratic ascendancy and relative fiscal freedom.</p> - -<p>But while the managers of the new sectional Republican party worked -night and day to develop and consolidate their voting power at the -North and West, and availed themselves skilfully of every exciting -incident in the history of the day to fan the passions of the people -into flame, a sharp conflict was raging within the Democratic ranks -between the Administration and the followers of Senator Douglas, -which the leaders of the disunion movement at the South carefully and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> -skilfully fomented, and which culminated in an open secession from the -Democratic National Convention at Charleston in April 1860.</p> - -<p>The Convention was adjourned to meet at Baltimore in June. There -a second secession of Southern delegates occurred, followed by -the nomination for the Presidency of Senator Douglas. A few days -later the seceders, meeting in a Convention of their own, nominated -Vice-President Breckenridge of Kentucky. In the meantime on the 9th -of May a convention of “moderate men” of all shades of opinion had -assembled in Baltimore, and nominated two eminent members of the -disbanded Whig party, Mr. Bell of Tennessee and Mr. Edward Everett -of Massachusetts, for the Presidency and the Vice-Presidency; while -the now confident Republicans, gathered in Convention at Chicago on -the 16th of May, had selected not Ex-Governor Seward of New York, but -Abraham Lincoln of Illinois, as their candidate.</p> - -<p class="space-below3">Of course, with such a prospect of success -before them as the Democratic disorganisation offered, the managers -of this Convention of the Republicans adroitly threw all questions -but the “burning questions” of the hour as far as possible into the -background of their operations. But while they declared themselves in -favor of the preservation of “the Federal Constitution, the rights of -the States, and the union of the States,” they did not forget to record -their desire for such an “adjustment” of the “duties on imports” as -“should encourage the development of the industrial interests of the -whole country,” under which rather vague phraseology lay concealed the -purpose of organising a new tariff for protection—a purpose which -was carried into effect by the Republicans at Washington as soon as -the subsequent secession from Congress of the Southern members made it practicable.</p> - -<p>With the first election of Abraham Lincoln in November 1860, and -his inauguration in March, 1861, we come upon a sudden and complete -“solution of continuity” in the political history of the United States. -Of the total popular vote of the country, amounting to 4,680,193, -thrown on the 4th of November, 1860, Mr. Lincoln received but 1,866,452, -being thus left in a popular minority of no fewer than <i>two million, -two hundred and thirteen thousand, seven hundred and fifty-one votes</i>! -It is impossible in the face of these figures to doubt that if the -tremendous issue of peace and war between the two great sections of -the Union, which really lay hidden in the ballot-boxes of the Union on -that November day, had been never so dimly perceived by the American -people, the verdict of the nation would have made an end that day of -the new “Republican,” party. But neither Mr. Lincoln himself, nor -Mr. Seward, nor any considerable number of the Republican voters of -the North and the West believed, or could be made to believe, in the -reality of this issue. It came upon them all and upon the country at -last, after all the agitation and all the warnings of years, like “a -thief in the night,” and coming upon the country it suspended for four -long and dismal years the normal action of the constitution, and the -normal development therefore of public opinion through the channels of -constitutional politics.</p> - -<p>It is juggling with phrases to say that from the 5th of March, 1861, -to the 15th of April, 1865, Mr. Lincoln was, in any true sense of -the words, a President of the United States with a political party -at his back. He was to all intents and purposes a war dictator of -the Northern and Western States, maintaining with all the resources -of those sections of the country the fabric of the American Union -against the armed and persistent efforts of thirteen sovereign States -banded together in a confederacy to make an end of its authority and -its existence so far as concerned its relations with them and with -their inhabitants. To this colossal task Mr. Lincoln brought, as I -think the most impartial critics of his administration in my own -party now admit, most rare and remarkable gifts of character and of -mind. It has been not uncommon among those who, since his death, have -constituted themselves the special eulogists of this extraordinary man, -to represent him as struggling from the first, not merely against the -enormous difficulties arrayed in his path by the energy, and wealth, -and determination of the seceding Confederacy, but against the ill-will -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> -and infidelity to his trust of the Democratic President whom Mr. -Lincoln was elected by the North and the West to succeed. This is not -the place for any vindication in this point of President Buchanan. -He has had no lack of critics within the ranks of my own party. But -no man who was present during that fateful winter of 1860-61 in -Washington, and who was really conversant with men and things there, -will need to be told that but for President Buchanan’s fidelity to his -constitutional oath, and to the behest of the party which elected him -in 1856 to “uphold the Union,” the Civil War would probably have begun -in Washington itself before Mr. Lincoln set foot within the capital.</p> - -<p>On the day of Mr. Lincoln’s inauguration, a day never to be forgotten -by any American who witnessed the scene, it was the presence by the -side of Mr. Lincoln of his great Northern Democratic rival, Senator -Douglas, which more than all the bayonets of the troops assembled -for the protection of Washington by General Scott, under orders from -President Buchanan, convinced the most intelligent of the Southern men -that the Union was not to be dissolved like snow in the sunbeams, and -gave all the weight of the Democratic masses of the North and West to -the new President’s deliberate declaration that the forts and property -of the United States would be “held and occupied” by all the power of -the unseceded States.</p> - -<p>The one member of Mr. Lincoln’s Cabinet who from the beginning foresaw -the gravity of the impending contest, and who put the whole pressure -of his personal influence upon the new President almost to the extent -of compelling him into asserting his authority by force of arms, was -not the Whig who had organised the “Republican” party, Mr. Seward, -It was Mr. Montgomery Blair, a “Democrat” by training, the son of -the confidential adviser of President Jackson and the brother of a -Democratic general in the Union armies who was afterwards nominated -for the Vice-Presidency on the same ticket with Governor Seymour of -New York in 1868 by the Democratic party. Mr. Montgomery Blair himself -left Mr. Lincoln’s Cabinet in July 1864, escaped the war made by the -“Republican” party under Sumner and Stevens upon the friends of -President Lincoln, after the assassination of the President by a -melodramatic madman, and became a trusty ally of Governor Tilden of New -York, the Democratic candidate who was elected to the Presidency of the -United States in 1876 by a popular majority of nearly 300,000 votes in -a total poll of a little over 8,000,000, and by a majority of one vote -in the electoral colleges, only to be defrauded of his office by the -audacious tampering of a cabal of Republican office-holders with the -votes of three Southern States.</p> - -<p>It is not my purpose, and it would swell this paper beyond all -reasonable limits, to sketch here, even in outline, the political -annals of the quarter of a century which stretches now between the -election of Abraham Lincoln in 1860 and the election of Governor -Cleveland in 1884. I may assume my readers to have a general knowledge -of the main features of this period of American history. No intelligent -man can be familiar even with the distorted and partial presentation -of those features which has hitherto passed current on both sides of -the Atlantic, without asking himself what the magic virtue can be which -has carried the great Democratic party of the United States steadily -onward through so many years of exclusion from executive power and such -storms of systematic obloquy, enabling it amid the passions of a fierce -sectional conflict to retain such a popular support throughout the -North and West as has persistently threatened the tenure of the Federal -authority by its all-powerful and never over-scrupulous opponents, -giving it again and again control of the popular branch of the Federal -Congress, and commanding for it, as soon as the restoration of the -Union became in truth an accomplished fact, an unquestioned majority of -the suffrages of the American people.</p> - -<p>My object has been to indicate the true answer to this question by -setting forth the foundations on which the Democratic party of the -United States was planted by its great leaders in the very dawn of our -national history.</p> - -<p>No man ever learned by practical experience of the responsibilities of -power to appreciate the solidity of these foundations more thoroughly -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> -than President Lincoln. A “Whig” by his early political affiliations -and an active and successful politician in times of high party -excitement, President Lincoln was not a partisan by temperament, -and nothing is more certain than that he came during his practical -war-dictatorship to very sound conclusions as to the essentially -ephemeral character of the political organisation which had lifted -him into that trying and dangerous post. He had no respect at all for -professional “philanthropists,” and not much for loudly “philanthropic” -politicians. The abolitionist agitators of the North instinctively -disliked and distrusted him. The ablest of their number, Mr. Wendell -Phillips, sneered at him as being not “honest exactly, but Kentucky -honest.” It was no confidence in President Lincoln, but the political -necessity of the moment, which compelled the extreme Anti-Democratic -leaders of the Republican party to acquiesce in his renomination in -November 1864, with a Democratic ex-Senator from the South, Andrew -Johnson of Tennessee, as his associate on the Presidential ticket. -Of this fact President Lincoln himself was well aware. Nor was he -blind to the popular and political significance of that Presidential -election of 1864. In spite of all that could be done by an army of -Federal office-holders larger than the armed force which Mr. Seward -at the outset of the civil war had imagined would be adequate to -“suppress the rebellion;” in spite of the combined influence of the -“Republican” local governments in the Northern and Western States; -in spite of military force brought to bear openly upon the polls in -regions undisturbed by war; in spite of the overshadowing fact that -the issues of the great civil war were still being fought out in the -field, the Democratic party of the North and West confronted the -Republican President at the polls in November 1864 with a popular vote -of nearly two millions out of four millions cast in those sections of -the Republic! The exact figures show that General M’Clellan, whose -popularity with the Democratic party was based upon his fame as the -creator of the Union army of the Potomac and upon his expressed loyalty -to the principles of the Constitution as the Democratic party holds -them, received, in November 1864, 1,802,237 votes in the North and -West, or within a few thousands of the 1,866,452 votes which were cast -for Mr. Lincoln himself in November 1860!</p> - -<p>President Lincoln had shrewd sense enough to see that as the -maintenance of the authority of the Union had only been made possible -to him by the unswerving determination of the Northern and Western -Democratic party that the authority of the Union should be maintained -under the Constitution, so the restoration of peace within the Union -could only be achieved by accepting the Democratic construction of -the position and the rights of all the States in the Union under the -Constitution, of the seceded as well as of the unseceded States; and he -had patriotism enough to resolve that peace should be restored within -the Union, no matter what became of the ephemeral “Republican” party -which had been called into existence and carried into power chiefly by -the force of the sectional passions which had found final expression in -the civil war. He had gone beyond the Constitution under the war power -in abolishing slavery, and he knew that in abolishing slavery he had -abolished the vital impulse to which the “Republican” party owed its -existence. He knew too that the extreme “Republican” partisans by whom -he was surrounded knew this as well as he, and he was thoroughly aware -that there were among them men like Thaddeus Stevens of Pennsylvania, -who were prepared and determined if possible to keep the sectional -passions which slavery had evoked alive and burning after slavery -itself should have disappeared, and to organise for themselves a new -lease of power at the expense of the peace of the country and of the -happiness and prosperity of millions of their fellow-countrymen.</p> - -<p>At the beginning of the war President Lincoln had met the challenge -thrown down to him by the Confederate War Department on the lines -indicated by a great Democratic jurist, the late Judge Black of -Pennsylvania, in his “Opinion upon the Powers of the President,” -prepared at the request of President Buchanan, in whose Cabinet Judge -Black had successively held the posts of Attorney-General and of Secretary of State. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> - -<p class="blockquot"> If one of the States (wrote Judge Black) -should declare her independence, your action cannot depend upon the -rightfulness of the cause upon which such declaration is based. Whether -the retirement of a State from the Union be the exercise of a right -reserved in the Constitution, or a revolutionary movement, it is -certain that you have not in either case the authority to recognise her -independence or to absolve her from her Federal obligations. Congress -or the other States in Convention assembled must take such measures -as may be necessary and proper. In such an event I can see no course -for you but to go straight onward in the path which you have hitherto -trodden—that is, execute the laws to the extent of the defensive -means placed in your hands, and act generally upon the assumption that -the present constitutional relations between the States and the Federal -Government continue to exist until a new order of things shall be -established either by law or by force. </p> - -<p>The seceding States attempted to establish “a new order of things -by force,” and maintained that attempt for four years with such -resolution, pertinacity, and courage as more than once brought them -within what an eminent English statesman would perhaps call such a -“measurable distance” of success as may well explain the conviction -expressed in England at one period of the struggle, that Jefferson -Davis had “established a nation.”</p> - -<p>Upon the failure of the Confederate experiment, President Lincoln, in -spite of the bitter and threatening hostility to him of a number of -the most conspicuous leaders of the Republican party in and out of -Congress, wisely and consistently determined to adhere to the position -involved in Judge Black’s opinion that the constitutional relations -between the States and the Federal Government could not be and had -not been shaken by the contest. After the Confederate Government had -abandoned Richmond, he visited that capital as President of the United -States, and in words made pathetic and historical by the deplorable -and senseless crime which was so soon to shock the country and the -civilised world, proclaimed his intention to administer the Government -“with malice towards none, with charity for all.” In his last public -speech, delivered on the 11th of April, 1865, two days only before his -assassination, he spoke of the seceded States as already restored to -their places in the Union, and said of them in his quaint and homely -fashion that, “finding themselves safely at home, it would be -utterly immaterial whether they had been abroad.” Mr. Gideon Welles -of Connecticut, to whom the portfolio of the Navy had been given -by President Lincoln in his first Cabinet, as a representative of -the Democratic wing of the then newly-organized “Republican” party, -tells us that at a Cabinet meeting held on the last day of President -Lincoln’s life, April 13, 1865, the President urged all the members of -the Cabinet to exert their influence to get all the State Governments -of the lately seceded States of the South “going again before the -annual meeting of Congress in December.” This meant, of course, that -President Lincoln intended and expected the lately seceded States to -send to Washington their proper and constitutional quota of senators -and representatives freely elected under the local franchise in each of -those States. His purpose was to secure the ratification by the seceded -States of the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution abolishing -slavery formally, and then to accept them as in all respects States -within the Union. In the Emancipation Proclamation of the 22nd of -September, 1862, which President Lincoln had issued avowedly as a war -measure, he had taken pains to declare that his object in prosecuting -the war as “Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy” of the United -States, was, had been, and would be, “practically to restore the -constitutional relation between the United States and each of the -States and the people thereof in which that relation was or might be suspended.”</p> - -<p>This was not at all the object of the unscrupulous and reckless leaders -who took command of the “Republican” party upon the death of President -Lincoln, and under whom Mr. Blaine first made a figure upon the field -of Federal politics.</p> - -<p>A clear line will be drawn by the historian between the war -administration of the President who upheld the Union and the dismal -epoch of Southern reconstruction which followed—an epoch of -unconstitutional Congressional despotism, mitigated only from time -to time by the personal authority of General Grant. The story of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> -relations of General Grant as President of the United States with the -party which found itself compelled to take advantage of his unbounded -popularity as the surest means of retaining its grasp upon authority at -Washington will one day constitute a most interesting and instructive -chapter in the history of government, but it lies outside the scope -of this paper. That General Grant would gladly have co-operated with -President Lincoln in carrying out his plan of re-establishing the -Union on Democratic and constitutional lines may be inferred not only -from the fact which he has stated, that the only vote he ever cast -before the civil war was for a Democratic President, but from the more -significant fact that he was so fully convinced of the readiness of -the Southern States to accept the results of the civil war in good -faith, that, immediately after the accession of President Johnson in -1865, he urged upon the President the importance of throwing a combined -army of Union and of Confederate soldiers into Mexico for the purpose -of expelling the French under Bazaine, and compelling Maximilian to -abandon the hopeless attempt to found an empire in the land of the -Montezumas which eventually cost that gallant but unfortunate prince -his life. President Johnson eagerly adopted General Grant’s suggestion, -but the Secretary of State Mr. Seward, opposed it, and Mr. Seward’s -objection was fatal. “It cost Maximilian his life,” General Grant -tells us, “and gave Napoleon the Third five more years of power in -France.” He might have added that it cost the people of the Southern -States ten years of the most odious and corrupting mal-administration -recorded in modern history—mal-administration which, but for the solid -political capacity and the traditional common sense and patriotism of -the Americans of the Southern States, must have reduced the fairest -portion of the North American continent to a social and industrial -chaos without precedent in the annals of modern civilisation.</p> - -<p class="space-below3">The evil influences of that dark epoch extended -themselves in all directions North and South, cropping out in organised -official peculations, in shameless political dishonesty, in reckless -speculation, in monstrous lobbying, and in incredible excesses of -public extravagance, based upon such a system of inordinate and -unconstitutional taxation as no American in his senses could have been -brought, before the outbreak of the civil war, to believe would ever -for a moment be tolerated by the American people.</p> - -<p>It was to make an end of all this that the people of the United States -in 1876 elected one Democratic Governor of New York to the Presidency. -Defeated then of their will by the Republican agents of reconstruction, -the people of the United States had now at last in 1884 compelled -their voice to be heard and to be respected. With the inauguration -of Governor Cleveland in March 1885, the Federal Government of the -United States will be once more organised upon the enduring Democratic -foundations of respect for Home Rule at the South and at the North, in -the East and in the West, and of a strict limitation of the functions -of the Federal Government to the powers granted and prescribed to it by -the Constitution.</p> - -<p>If I have done anything like justice in this necessarily hasty sketch -to the origin and development of the Democratic party of the United -States, my readers will not need to be told that its advent to power at -this time opens a new and most important chapter in the annals of the -American Republic. It involves much, very much more than the transfer -of executive power from one to another set of administrative officers.</p> - -<p class="space-below3">It closes definitely an era of such political -disease and corruption in the United States as I have preferred rather -to indicate than to dwell upon here. Work of that sort, in my judgment, -may as well be confined to the domestic laundry. Quite enough of it -has been done for the edification of mankind at large by certain of -my countrymen who have hitherto found it more convenient to bewail -the political profligacy of those to whom “respectable Republicans” -chose to surrender the control of the Republican party after the -murder of President Lincoln “cried havoc and let slip the dogs of -faction” than to co-operate resolutely with the great Democratic party -in making the Union once more solid, and settling it upon its only -possible foundations—Home Rule and a strict construction of the Constitution. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> - -<p class="space-below3">It is easy to draw dramatic pictures of the -demoralisation of American politics; but there is more significance -surely for thoughtful men in the returns, which show that the -candidacy of Mr. Blaine and Mr. Logan has cut down the plurality of -the Republican party in “moral” Massachusetts from more than fifty -thousand to ten thousand votes; in Illinois, from over forty thousand -to fifteen thousand; in Michigan, from more than fifty thousand to -barely two thousand; in Ohio, from more than thirty thousand to eleven -thousand. It has made the Democratic Governor of New York President -by an electoral majority of 37 votes and a popular plurality of about -400,000 votes. Less is to be learned of the deep and lasting currents -of popular thought and feeling in the United States from an elaborate -study of the absurd abominations of Republican “Reconstruction” at the -South than from the handwriting of fire on the polling-places of the -Empire State which illuminated the Belshazzar’s Feast of Mr. Blaine’s -“millionaires” on the eve of the Presidential Election of 1884!</p> - -<p>In a certain sense, President Cleveland will occupy a position -not unlike that of President Lincoln at the outset of his first -Presidency. But the task of the Democratic chief magistrate who goes -to Washington with a great historical party at his back, to restore -the well-understood metes and bounds of the Federal authority over -thirty-eight free and independent States will be a less troublesome -and in its immediate results ought to be an infinitely more benign -and grateful task, than that of the reluctant war dictator who found -himself, against all his expectations, driven by angry sections, with -a mixed and undisciplined mob of placemen, of monopolists, and of -philanthropists behind him, into cutting with the sword the Gordian -knot of slavery, at the risk of severing with it forever the golden -bands of the Union, and those “mystic chords of memory” of which he -spoke with such a wistful pathos in his inaugural address. Some points -of resemblance may be found, too, between the personal histories of -Lincoln and of Cleveland. Like Mr. Lincoln, Governor Cleveland comes -of an old American stock. His family name smacks of Yorkshire, and his -direct ancestors established themselves in Massachusetts nearly two -hundred years ago. One of the family, a Cambridge man, and a clergyman -of the Anglican Church, died at Philadelphia under the roof of his -friend Benjamin Franklin twenty years before the American Revolution. -Another, who sat in the Legislature of Connecticut, and who was a -minister of the Independents, is remembered as an early advocate in -that “land of steady habits” of the abolition of African slavery, and -this at a time when the worthy citizens of Massachusetts thought it -expedient to keep the Bay State clear of negro blood by ordaining in -their organic law that any African “not a subject of our faithful ally -the Emperor of Morocco” who ventured twice across the Massachusetts -border should be on each occasion whipped, imprisoned and sent away, -and that if this did not restrain his ardor, he should upon his third -advent be so dealt with as to put an effectual stop to his travels.</p> - -<p>Richard Cleveland, a grandson of the Connecticut abolitionist, married -the daughter of an Irish bookseller in Philadelphia, Miss Neale, -and was the father of the new President of the United States. He -was settled as a Presbyterian minister in the New Jersey village of -Caldwell, and there on the 18th of March, 1838, Grover Cleveland was -born. His father left New Jersey when he was but a child, and went in -the service of the religious body to which he belonged to live in New -York. The circumstances of the family were much better, I need not say, -than those amid which the youth of Lincoln, the son of an emigrant -Virginian, was passed in the wilds of Kentucky and Southern Illinois. -But Grover Cleveland, like Lincoln, was early thrown upon his own -resources. When he was a lad of sixteen his father died, and he was -left to conquer for himself the education he was determined to have, -and to make his own way in the world with such small help as a brother -and an uncle could afford him, both of them battling with life, and -both of them counting, not in vain, upon the young student’s aid in the -maintenance of his widowed mother and her young family. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> - -<p>His twenty-first year found the future President admitted to the Bar -in Buffalo, the chief city of Western New York. He distinguished -himself from the outset of his professional career by his indomitable -industry and his devotion to duty. These qualities soon secured for -him the honorable but laborious post of Assistant District Attorney. -He was not blinded by the glamor and glitter of the “great Civil War” -to the rascalities of Reconstruction, but adopted the Democratic -faith in politics, though living in a strongly Republican city. In -1870 he was elected Sheriff of Buffalo, and twelve years afterwards, -having returned meanwhile to a successful practice at the Bar, the -best citizens of Buffalo of all parties rallied to his support as the -Democratic candidate for the Mayoralty, in a contest which curiously -prefigured, on a smaller arena, the Presidential campaign of 1884. -The taxpayers of Buffalo had been systematically plundered by a -Republican “municipal ring,” just as the taxpayers of New York many -years ago were plundered by the Democratic municipal ring of Tweed -and Sweeney, of which so much and such unscrupulous use has been made -by Republican writers and speakers to vilify the Democratic party. -It has not usually occurred to these ingenious party trumpeters to -insist upon the fact that the “Tweed ring” was broken and that its -members were brought to chastisement mainly through the persistent -efforts of two distinguished Democrats.</p> - -<p>One of these was the late Charles O’Conor, in his time the acknowledged -leader of the American Bar, and a Democratic candidate for the -Presidency in opposition to the headlong and absurd nomination of -Horace Greeley, a life-long Whig Protectionist, into which a Democratic -Convention allowed itself to be cajoled, despite the manly protest of -such true Democratic leaders as Senator Bayard at Baltimore in 1872. -The other was Mr. Samuel J. Tilden, whose services against the Tweed -ring led first to his election by the Democratic party as Governor of -New York in 1874, and then to his election as President of the United -States in 1876, the year of the great electoral fraud.</p> - -<p>The task which these distinguished Democrats assumed in New York Mr. -Cleveland took up in Buffalo, and carried through with such impartial -energy and courage that before the expiration of the first year of his -term of office as Mayor, he was invited by the Democrats of New York to -enter upon the larger stewardship of the State executive. He had been -chosen mayor of Buffalo in 1881, by a majority of 3,500 votes. He was -chosen Governor of New York in 1882 by a majority of nearly 200,000 in -a total poll of 893,000 votes. His opponent was Mr. Folger, a leading -Republican, who had sat with distinction on the bench of the highest -State Tribunal in New York, and who died the other day as Secretary -of the Treasury in the Cabinet of President Arthur; and it is an open -secret that the tremendous overthrow of the Republican candidate was -partially due to the machinations of the friends of Mr. Blaine who had -been dropped for cause from the Cabinet of President Arthur with some -emphasis in December of the preceding year. It was the calculation -of Mr. Blaine that the defeat of the President’s candidate in the -President’s own State of New York in 1882 would materially damage -Mr. Arthur’s chances and strengthen his own of securing a Republican -Presidential nomination at Chicago in 1884. It was a good calculation, -but whether the retrospect of the gubernatorial campaign of 1882 in New -York is as gratifying now to Mr. Blaine as it was two years ago may -perhaps be doubted.</p> - -<p>As Governor of New York, Mr. Cleveland has shown himself what he was -as Mayor of Buffalo—rigidly honest, indefatigable, simple in his -personal tastes and habits, disdainful of the silly state, and the -petty parade of official importance into which too many public servants -of the United States have suffered themselves to be seduced during the -reign of King Mammon at Washington. It has been his custom to walk -every morning from the Executive Mansion to the Governor’s Rooms in the -Capitol at Albany, and to spend the day there, incessantly occupied, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> -but always visible to those who have had any real occasion to see -him. It will be a wholesome thing to see the Presidential office once -more administered in this unostentatious fashion. Mr. Cleveland may -be called a representative of the Young Democracy, since he will go -into the White House a bachelor, like the last Democratic President, -Mr. Buchanan, but a young bachelor, the youngest President indeed yet -elected. In his fidelity to the traditions of Jefferson, who rode up -to the Capitol on horseback to be inaugurated, “hitched his horse to -a post,” took the oath and went about his business, Mr. Cleveland -will be supported by the new Vice-President—ex-Governor Hendricks -of Indiana, who represents the stanch and experienced Democratic -leaders who have borne the brunt of the intense political warfare -of the last quarter of a century with unwavering courage and signal -ability. As a representative in Congress, as a senator of the United -States, as Governor of the great Western State of Indiana, and as the -Democratic candidate for the Vice-Presidency on the same ticket with -Governor Tilden in 1876, Mr. Hendricks has linked his name with the -best traditions, and drawn to himself the general confidence of his -party. On the 6th of February, 1869, what is called a “concurrent -resolution” (which may be passed without requiring the assent of the -President) was introduced into the Senate under the “Reconstruction” -legislation of 1868, directing the President of the Senate to deal in -a particular manner with the vote of Georgia as “a State lately in -rebellion” and to allow that electoral vote to be alluded to only if -the counting or omitting to count it would not effect the decision of -the election in favor of either candidate. The candidates were General -Grant and Governor Seymour of New York. Mr. Hendricks, then a Senator -from Indiana, sustained with memorable force and conviction the right -of Georgia to her proper and unqualified voice in the election. One -Republican Senator alone voted against the “concurrent resolution,” -and that Senator, Mr. Trumbull of Illinois, is now a recognised leader -of the Democratic party in the State which gave Abraham Lincoln to the -Presidency. At the second election of Grant—Horace Greeley having -died immediately after the choice of the electors—most of the votes -given against General Grant were given to Mr. Hendricks; and in the -Democratic Convention of 1876 Mr. Hendricks who was the second choice -of a majority of the Convention after Governor Tilden, was eventually -nominated, almost against his will, for the Vice-Presidency. He is -a man of fine presence and dignified manners, who will preside with -ability and tact over that Upper House of the national Legislature -which stands as the fortress of Home Rule and State Rights, founded -upon the ideal constituency of State sovereignty, and set more safely -beyond the reach of the gusts of popular passion than the hereditary -principle in Europe.</p> - -<p>The first duty of the President Elect will be the selection of his -Cabinet officers. Under the American system these officers do not sit -in Congress, and, with the exception of the Secretary of the Treasury, -they are simply agents of the Executive. But it is customary to select -them from the most prominent and influential men of the party, and -with reference to the party strength in different sections of the -country. To recite the names of the men, any one of whom would be -accepted by public opinion in the United States as a fitting Cabinet -Minister of the new President, would really be almost to call the -roll of the Democratic Senators, now thirty-six in number out of a -Senate of Seventy-six members, and of the Democratic Chairmen of -Committees in the House, which as newly elected will be Democratic by -a majority of between thirty and forty votes. The names of Mr. Bayard -of Delaware, the leading candidate after Governor Cleveland at Chicago; -Mr. Thurman of Ohio, long the leading Democratic, with Senator Edmunds -as the Republican, “law lord” of the Senate, and the author of an Act -enforcing upon the great Pacific railway corporations their obligations -to the Government, which it has been left for a Democratic Executive to -carry into effect; General McClellan; Mr. Pendleton of Ohio, to whom -the country chiefly owes whatever measure of reasonable Civil Service -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> -reform it enjoys; Mr. McDonald of Indiana, Mr. Lamar of Mississippi, -Mr. Hewitt and Mr. Kernan of New York, Mr. Garland of Arkansas, Mr. -Beck of Kentucky, Mr. Palmer of Illinois, have been already discussed -in the open councils of the party, and intelligent Americans of all -opinions will admit that a Cabinet framed of such materials would -deserve and command universal confidence. There are many other active -and experienced party men whom it might be troublesome to replace in -one or the other House of Congress, but there need be no fear that the -new President will be at a loss to find able counsellors to aid him in -discharging his great trust.</p> - -<p>The policy of the new Administration is involved and indicated in the -traditions of the party. In our foreign relations the United States -under a Democratic President will ask nothing of Europe except a -cordial maintenance of treaties, an extension of commercial relations -under equitable conditions, a full recognition of the accepted rules of -international law, a sedulous exemption everywhere of the persons and -property of American citizens from unnecessary annoyance by arbitrary -power. The State Department under President Cleveland may be expected -to be administered, not in the swash-bucklering and speculative fashion -which the Republican supporters of Mr. Blaine extolled during the late -canvass as brilliant and enterprising, but in the self-respecting, -self-contained, and dignified spirit which controlled our foreign -relations under ex-Governor Marcy of New York thirty years ago, and -which so honorably distinguished the administration of the same -department under ex-Governor Fish of New York from that of sundry other -high officers of State in the time of President Grant.</p> - -<p>Upon the Treasury Department will fall the responsibility of dealing -wisely and firmly with the most important domestic issue inherent in -the resumption of executive power by the party of the Constitution. -This can hardly be more authoritatively stated than it was a fortnight -ago by the Vice-President Elect, Mr. Hendricks, in a speech delivered -by him to the people at Indianapolis after the election:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> The watchword of the party in this contest, as -in the contest of eight years ago, has been reform—executive, -administrative, and revenue reform; an honest construction of the laws, -and an honest administration of them. The revenue now collected exceeds -the wants of an economical administration by $85,000,000. Because of -this the Democrats say: “Let there be revenue reform; let that reform -consist in part in the reduction of taxation.” Is it not patent to -every man that there ought to be a reform here? The Democratic party -this year came before the country with a clear and straightforward -statement of the reform they intended to accomplish. In the national -platform they declared that reform they would have. It was, first, that -the taxation shall not exceed the wants of the Government economically -administered; second, that taxation shall be for public purposes alone, -and not for private gain or advantage; third, that in the adjustment -care shall be taken to neither hurt labor nor harm capital; and fourth, -that taxation shall be heaviest on articles of luxury and lightest on -articles of necessity. </p> - -<p>For now a quarter of a century the “Party of Protection and Monopoly” -has persistently transgressed the limits set to the Federal authority -by the Constitution, and used the earnings of labor and of capital, -in the form of excessive taxes, to fertilise and fatten private -enterprises.</p> - -<p>This must stop. And when this stops, the manufacturers of England and -of Europe may make up their minds to meet the competing exports of the -United States in all those markets of the world from which American -exports have been excluded by American legislation ever since the -Whig-Republicans of 1861 laid their grasp upon our fiscal policy. It -cannot stop too soon. The official returns of the exports of the United -States show that during the fiscal year which ended on the 30th of June -1884, the exports of domestic merchandise from the United States to -all parts of the world fell off in value $79,258,780, as compared with -the exports for the year ending the 30th of June, 1883. Our exports of -machinery fell off nearly a million dollars; of general manufactures of -iron and steel more than a million and a quarter of dollars. There was -a good deal of gunpowder burned in the year 1883-4, but the value of -our exports of it fell off a quarter of a million of dollars. The value -of our exports of flax and hemp fell from $547,111 in 1882-3 to $67,725 -in 1883-4; our exports of agricultural implements declined during the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> -last year more than a million of dollars in value; our exports of -cotton goods, colored and uncolored, more than twelve hundred thousand -dollars. Clearly Protection does not develop the manufactures of the -United States. It “protects” the manufacturers (which is quite a -different thing) against and at the expense of the consumers of the -United States, and gives point to the Duke of Somerset’s assertion that -“in no country has the power of capital been more invidiously exerted” -than in the United States. If our foreign manufacturing friends had any -money to spend on American politics, they would have done well to throw -it into one pool with the contributions of Mr. Blaine’s two hundred millionaires!</p> - -<p>Alexander Hamilton, the Federalist Secretary of the Treasury under -Washington, was the first apostle of Protection in America, but -in approaching the subject he “walked delicately,” like Agag. The -Americans of 1789 established absolute free trade between all the -sovereign States of the new Republic; nay more, during the negotiations -for peace at Versailles in 1783, the American Commissioners offered -Great Britain absolute free trade between the new States “and all -parts of the British dominions, saving only the rights of the British -chartered companies.” David Hartley, the philosophic writer on “Man,” -one of the British Commissioners, had wisdom enough to see the immense -importance of this offer, and urged the British Government to close -with it. Lord Shelburne, I believe, agreed with him. But the king -peremptorily refused to entertain a proposition which, had it been -accepted, must have changed the whole subsequent course of the history -of the two countries.</p> - -<p>Down to 1809 no import duties were levied in the United States except -for purposes of revenue only. High rates of duty were levied in 1816 -after the war of 1812, not for “protection,” but in order to meet the -exigencies of a most dangerous financial situation. In 1824, Henry -Clay, backed by New England and the middle States, carried through a -tariff to “protect American industry.” This was followed up by the -tariff of 1828, known as the “Bill of Abominations.” But the Democratic -sense of the country clearly saw that as the power to levy protective -taxes must be derived from the revenue power it is of necessity -incidental, and that as the incident cannot go beyond that to which it -is incidental, Congress cannot constitutionally levy duties avowedly -for Protection; and the Democratic party has never since departed, and -never can depart, from this doctrine in its party action. In 1833, -under President Jackson, “Protection” went down with Nullification. In -1846, under President Polk, the liberal Democratic tariff of Secretary -Walker was framed, under which our exports increased from $99,299,766 -in 1845, to $196,689,718 in 1851, and our net imports from $101,907,734 -to $194,526,639. In 1856, under Democratic rule, our net imports -were $298,261,364, in specie value, and our exports $310,586,330. -In that year the Democratic Convention declared “the time has come -for the people of the United States to declare themselves in favor -of progressive free trade throughout the world.” Under Republican -Protection, despite the development of the population, our net imports -fell from $572,080,919 in 1874, to $455,407,836 in 1876, and our -exports from $704,463,120 (mixed values, gold and inflated currency) -to $655,463,969; and in 1876 the Democratic Convention declared, “We -demand that all Custom House taxation shall be only for revenue.” Of -course trade can never be said to be free excepting where, as in the -internal commerce of the United States, no tax is levied on trade; and -therefore so long as any revenue is raised by duties it is absurd, as -Senator Sherman said in discussing the tariff question in 1867, to -talk of a “free trade tariff.” But it cannot be denied that under the -Democratic Revenue Tariff of 1846 a revenue of at least $140,000,000 -would easily now be raised, and Senator Sherman, in the speech to -which I refer, admitted that “the wit of man could not possibly frame -a tariff” which should produce that sum “without amply protecting our -domestic industry.” If this happens as an incident to raising such a -revenue, American manufacturers will do well to be thankful for it. Had -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> -the monopolists succeeded in getting Mr. Blaine into the White House -to thwart legislative reform of tariff taxation for four years more, a -worse thing would have overtaken them. For it is unquestionable that -a spirit of resistance to protective monopolies is moving through the -country, and especially through that nursery of empire, the great -North-West, which will not much longer be denied. The Democratic -Convention at Chicago wisely took note of this when it made Mr. Vilas -of Wisconsin, one of the most eloquent and popular of North-Western -Democrats, permanent chairman of the body; and Mr. Vilas has stated -the purposes and the convictions of the North-West with plainness of -speech:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> The tariff (he says) is a form of slavery not -less hateful because the whip is not exposed. No free people can -or will bear it. There is but one course. The plan of protective -robbery must be utterly eradicated from every law for taxation. With -unflinching steadfastness, but moderately, without destructive haste -or violence, the firm demand of freedom must be persistently pressed, -until every dollar levied in the name of Government goes to the -Treasury, and the vast millions now extorted for a class are left in -the pockets of the people who earn the money. Resolute to defend the -sacred rights of property, we must be resolute to redress the flagrant -wrongs of property. </p> - -<p class="space-below3">These are strong words. But they are only the echo -from the land of the Great Lakes in 1884 of the liberal principles embodied -by Jefferson in the Declaration of Independence in 1776 and sanctioned -by the Constitution of the United States in 1789. Those principles -are the life of the Democratic party. The Democratic party can only -be opposed by opposing those principles. It can only be crushed -by crushing them; and it is their inextinguishable vitality which -guarantees the permanence of our indissoluble Union of indestructible -States.—<i>Nineteenth Century.</i></p> - -<h2>RONSARD: ON THE CHOICE<br />OF HIS TOMB.</h2> - -<p class="center">“<i>Antres, et vous fontaines.</i>”</p> - -<p class="center space-below1"><b>BY J. P. M.</b></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye caverns, and ye founts</span> -<span class="i0">That from these rocky mounts</span> -<span class="i0">Well forth, and fall below</span> -<span class="i12">With glassy flow;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye forests, and ye waves</span> -<span class="i0">Whose stream these meadows laves;</span> -<span class="i0">Ye banks and copses gay,</span> -<span class="i12">Hear ye my lay.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When Heaven and my last sun</span> -<span class="i0">Shall tell my race is run,</span> -<span class="i0">Snatched from the dwelling bright</span> -<span class="i12">Of common light;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No marble chiselled be,</span> -<span class="i0">That boastfulness may see</span> -<span class="i0">A grander pomp illume</span> -<span class="i12">My lowly tomb.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But may, in marble’s stead,</span> -<span class="i0">Some tree with shading head</span> -<span class="i0">Uplift its leafy screen,</span> -<span class="i12">For ever green.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And from me, grant, O Earth!</span> -<span class="i0">An ivy plant its birth,</span> -<span class="i0">In close embraces bound</span> -<span class="i12">My body round:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And may enwreathing vine</span> -<span class="i0">To deck my tomb entwine,</span> -<span class="i0">That all around be made</span> -<span class="i12">A trellised shade.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thither shall swains, each year,</span> -<span class="i0">On my feast-day draw near,</span> -<span class="i0">With lowing herds in view,—</span> -<span class="i12">A rustic crew;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who, hailing first the light</span> -<span class="i0">With Eucharistic rite,</span> -<span class="i0">Addressing thus the Isle,<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></span> -<span class="i12">Shall sing, the while:—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“<i>How splendid is thy fame,</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>O tomb, to own the name</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Of one, who fills with verse</i></span> -<span class="i12"><i>The Universe!</i></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“<i>Who never burned with fire</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Of envious desire</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For glorious Fate affords</i></span> -<span class="i12"><i>To mighty lords;</i></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“<i>Nor ever taught the use</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Of love-compelling juice;</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Nor ancient magic art</i></span> -<span class="i12"><i>Did e’er impart;</i></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“<i>But gave our meads to see</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>The Sister Graces three</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Dance o’er the swarded plains</i></span> -<span class="i12"><i>To his sweet strains.</i></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“<i>Because he made his lyre</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Such soft accords respire,</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>As filled us and our place</i></span> -<span class="i12"><i>With his own grace.</i></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“<i>May gentle manna fall,</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For ever, on his pall;</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And dews, exhaled in May,</i></span> -<span class="i12"><i>At close of day.</i></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“<i>Be turf, and murmuring wave,</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>The fence around his grave:</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Wave, ever flowing seen—</i></span> -<span class="i12"><i>Turf, ever green.</i></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“<i>And we, whose hearts so well</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>His noble fame can tell,</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>As unto Pan, will bear</i></span> -<span class="i12"><i>Honors, each year.</i>”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So will that choir strike up;</span> -<span class="i0">Pouring from many a cup</span> -<span class="i0">A lamb’s devoted blood,</span> -<span class="i12">With milky flood,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O’er me, who then shall be</span> -<span class="i0">Of that High City free,</span> -<span class="i0">Where happy souls possess</span> -<span class="i12">Their blissfulness.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hail hurtles not, nor there</span> -<span class="i0">Fall snow, in that mild air;</span> -<span class="i0">Nor thunder-stroke o’erwhelms</span> -<span class="i12">Those hallowed realms:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But evermore is seen</span> -<span class="i0">To reign, unfading green;</span> -<span class="i0">And, ever blossoming,</span> -<span class="i12">The lovely Spring.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor there do they endure</span> -<span class="i0">The lusts that kings allure</span> -<span class="i0">Their ruined neighbors’ State</span> -<span class="i12">To dominate:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like brothers they abide;</span> -<span class="i0">And, though on earth they died,</span> -<span class="i0">Pursue the tasks they set</span> -<span class="i12">While living yet.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There, there, Alcæus’ lyre</span> -<span class="i0">I’ll hear, of wrathful fire;</span> -<span class="i0">And Sappho’s chords, which fall</span> -<span class="i12">Sweeter than all.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How those blest souls, whose ear</span> -<span class="i0">Shall strains so chanted hear,</span> -<span class="i0">In gladness must abound</span> -<span class="i12">At that sweet sound;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When Sisyphus the shock</span> -<span class="i0">Forgetteth, of his rock;</span> -<span class="i0">And Tantalus by thirst</span> -<span class="i12">Is no more curst!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sole delicious Lyre</span> -<span class="i0">Fulfils the heart’s desire;</span> -<span class="i0">And charms, with joy intense,</span> -<span class="i12">The listening sense.</span> -<span class="i25">—<i>Blackwood’s Magazine.</i></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="space-above3"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> - -<h2>WÜRZBURG AND VIENNA: SCRAPS FROM A DIARY.</h2> - -<p class="center space-below1"><b>BY EMILE DE LAVELEYE.</b></p> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<p>I arrive at Vienna at 10 o’clock and alight at the “Münsch” hotel, -a very old-established one, and very preferable, in my opinion, to -those gigantic and sumptuous “Ring” establishments where one is a mere -number. I find awaiting me a letter from the Baron de Neumann, my -colleague of the University of Vienna, and a member of the <i>Institut de -Droit International</i>. He informs me that the Minister Taaffe will await -me at 11 o’clock, and the Minister for Foreign Affairs, M. de Kálnoky, -at 3 <span class="smcap">p. m.</span> It is always well to make the acquaintance -of Ministers when visiting foreign countries. It is the means of obtaining -the key to doors generally closed, to consulting documents otherwise -inaccessible, and to getting out of prison if by mistake you happen to -be one day thrown therein.</p> - -<p>The Home Office is a sombre-looking palace, situated in the -Judenplatz, a dark and narrow street in old Vienna; the apartments -are spacious, correct but bare; the furniture severe, simple but -pure eighteenth century style. It resembles the abode of an ancient -family who must live carefully to keep out of debt. How different to -the Government Offices in Paris, where luxury is displayed everywhere -in gilt panellings, Lyons velvets, painted ceilings and magnificent -staircases—as, for instance, at the Financial and Foreign Offices. I -prefer the simplicity of the official buildings of Vienna and Berlin. -The State ought not to set an example of prodigality. The Comte Taaffe -is in evening dress, as he is going to a conference with the Emperor. -He, nevertheless, receives my letter of introduction from one of -his cousins most amiably, and also the little note I bring him from -my friend Neumann, who was his professor of public law. The present -policy of the Prime Minister, which gives satisfaction to the Tscheks -and irritates the Germans so much, is not unjustifiable. He reasons -thus:—What is the best means to ensure the comfort and contentment of -several persons living together in the same house? Is it not to leave -them perfectly free to regulate their lives just as they think well? -Force them to live all in the same way to take their meals and amuse -themselves together, and they will be certain, very shortly, to quarrel -and separate. How is it that the Italians of the Canton of Tesino never -think of uniting with Italy? Because they are perfectly satisfied -to belong to Switzerland. Remember that Austria’s motto is <i>Viribus -unitis</i>. True union would be born of general contentment. The sure way -to satisfy all is to sacrifice the rights of none. “Yes,” I said, “if -unity could be made to spring from liberty and autonomy it would be -indestructible.”</p> - -<p>Count Taaffe has long been in favor of federalism. Under the -Taaffe-Potoçki Ministry, in 1869, he had sketched a plan of reforms -with the object of extending the sway of provincial governments.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> -In some articles in the <i>Revue des Deux Mondes</i>, in 1868-9 I tried to -show that this was the best solution of the question. Count Taaffe is -still young; he was born in 1833, Feb. 24. He is descended from an Irish -family and is a peer of that country, with the title of Viscount Taaffe -of Correw and Baron of Ballymote; but his ancestors left their home and -lost their Irish estates on account of their attachment to the Stuarts. -They took service, then, under the Dukes of Lorraine, and one of them -distinguished himself at the siege of Vienna in 1683. Count Edward, -the present Minister, was born at Prague. His father was President of -the Supreme Court of Justice. He himself commenced his career in the -Hungarian Administration under the Baron Bach, who, seeing his great -aptitudes and his perseverance, procured him rapid advancement. Taaffe -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> -became successively Vice-Governor of Bohemia, Governor of Salzburg, -and finally Governor of Upper Austria. Called to the Ministry of the -Interior in 1867, he signed the famous “Ausgleich” of December 21, -which forms the basis of the present Dual Empire. After the fall of the -Ministry, he was appointed Governor of the Tyrol, and held that post to -general satisfaction for a space of seven years. On his return to power -he again took up the portfolio of the Interior, and was also appointed -President of the Council. He continued to pursue his federalist policy, -but with more success than in 1869. The concessions he makes to the -Tscheks are a subject of both grief and wonder in Vienna. It is said -that he does it to secure their votes for the revision of the law of -primary education in favor of reactionary clericalism. Those who are -of this opinion must forget that he has clearly shown his leaning to -federalism for more than sixteen years.</p> - -<p>What is more astonishing is the contradiction between Austria’s home -and foreign policy. At home the Slav movement is encouraged. All is -conceded to it, with the exception of the re-establishment of the -realm of St. Wenceslas, the road to which is, however, being prepared. -Abroad, on the contrary, and especially beyond the Danube, this -movement is opposed and suppressed as much as possible, even at the -risk of dangerously increasing Russia’s influence and popularity. This -contradiction may be explained after this wise. The “Common” Ministry -of the Empire is entirely independent of the Ministry of Cis-Leithania. -This “Common” Ministry, presided over by the Chancellor, is composed -of three Ministers—viz., those of Foreign Affairs, Finances, and War; -it alone settles foreign policy, and the Hungarian element is dominant -here. Count Taaffe’s principal residence is at Ellisham in Bohemia. -“Bailli” of the Order of Malta, he possesses the Golden Fleece. He is, -in fact, in every respect, an important personage. In 1860 he married -the Countess Irma de Czaky of Keresztszegk, by whom he has had a son -and five daughters. He has, thus, one foot in Bohemia and the other in -Hungary. All unanimously admit his extraordinary aptitudes, his -indefatigable energy, and his clever administration; but in Vienna they -complain that he is too aristocratic, and has too great a weakness for -the clergy. Probably a statue as high as the Hradsin Cathedral will -be raised in his honor at Prague, if he persuades the Emperor to be -crowned there.</p> - -<p>At three o’clock I proceeded to see Count Kálnoky at the Foreign Office -in the Ballplatz. It is very well situated, near to the Imperial -residence, in a wide street, and in sight of the Ring. Large reception -rooms, solemn-looking and cold; gilded chairs and white and gold -panellings, red curtains, polished floorings, and no carpets. On the -walls, portraits of the Imperial family. While waiting to be announced, -I think of Metternich. It was here he resided. In 1812 Austria decided -the fall of Napoleon. Now, again, she holds in her hands the destinies -of Europe; for the balance changes as she moves towards the north, -the east, or the west; and I am about to see the Minister who directs -her foreign policy. I expected to find myself in the presence of an -imposing-looking person, with white hair, and very stiff; so I was -agreeably surprised on being most affably received by a man of about -forty, dressed in a brown morning suit, with a blue cravat. An open -and very pleasing expression, and eyes brimming over with wit. All -the Kálnoky family have this particularity, it appears. He possesses -the quiet, refined, yet simple and modest distinction of manner of an -English nobleman. Like many Austrians of the upper class, he speaks -French like a Parisian. I think this is due to their speaking six or -seven languages equally well, so that the particular accent of each -becomes neutralized. The English and the Germans, even when they know -French thoroughly, have still a foreign accent when speaking it; not -so the Austrians. Count Kálnoky asks what are my plans for my journey. -When he hears that I intend studying the question of the Eastern railways, he says: -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That is our great preoccupation at the present moment. In the West -they pretend that we are anxious for conquest. This is absurd. It -would be very difficult for us to make any which would satisfy the two -parties in the Empire, and it is in fact greatly to our interest that -peace should be maintained. But we are dreaming of different sorts of -conquests, which, as an economist, you can but approve. I speak of -conquests we are desirous of making for our industries, trade, and -civilization. For this to be possible, we want railways in Servia, -Bulgaria, Bosnia, and Macedonia; and, above all, a connection with the -Ottoman lines. Engineers and diplomatists are already at work, and -will soon succeed, I hope. I do not think any one will complain or -throw blame on us when a Pullman car takes him comfortably from Paris -to Constantinople in three days. We are working for the benefit of the -Western world.”</p> - -<p>It has been said that speech was given to diplomatists to conceal -their thoughts. I believe, though, that when Austrian statesmen deny -any ideas of conquest and annexation in the East, they are expressing -the true intentions of the Imperial Government. The late Chancellor de -Haymerlé expressed similar opinions when I saw him in Rome in 1879, and -in a letter which I received from him shortly before his death. Baron -Haymerlé was better acquainted with the East and the Balkan Peninsula -than any one. He had lived there many years, first as dragoman of the -Austrian Embassy, and afterwards as a Government envoy, and he was a -perfect master of all the different languages of the East.</p> - -<p>The present Chancellor, Count Kálnoky, of Körospatak, is of Hungarian -origin, as his name indicates; but he was born at Littowitz, in -Moravia, December 29, 1832. Most of his landed estates are in that -province, amongst others Prödlitz, Ottaslawitz and Szabatta. He has -several brothers, and a very lovely sister who has been twice married, -first to Count Jean Waldstein, the widower of a Zichy, who was already -62 years of age, and, secondly, to the Duke of Sabran. Chancellor -Kálnoky’s career has been very extraordinary. He left the army in 1879, -with the grade of Colonel, and took up diplomacy. He obtained a post -at Copenhagen, where he appeared destined to play a very insignificant -part in political affairs. Shortly after, however, he was appointed to -St. Petersburg, the most important of all diplomatic posts, and, on -the death of Haymerlé, he was called to Vienna as Foreign Minister, -and thus in three years he advanced from the position of a cavalry -officer, brilliant and elegant it is true, but with no political -influence, to be the arbiter of the destinies of the Austrian Empire, -and consequently of those of Europe. How may this marvellously rapid -advancement, reminding one of the tales of the Grand Viziers in the -“Arabian Nights,” be accounted for? It is generally considered to -be due to Andrassy’s friendship. But the real truth is very little -known. Count Kálnoky is even cleverer as a writer than as speaker. -His despatches from foreign Courts were really finished models. The -Emperor, a most indefatigable and conscientious worker, reads all the -despatches from the Ambassadors, and was much struck with those from -St. Petersburg, noting Kálnoky as destined to fill high functions -in the State. At St. Petersburg he charmed every one by his wit and -amiability, and in spite of the distrust felt for his country became -<i>persona grata</i> at the Court there. When he became Chancellor, the -Emperor gave him the rank of Major-General.</p> - -<p>It was thought in the beginning that his friendship for Russia might -lead him to come to terms with that Power, and perhaps also with -France, and to break off the alliance with Germany; but Kálnoky does -not forget that he is Hungarian and the friend of Andrassy, and that -the pivot of Hungarian policy, since 1866, has been a close alliance -with Berlin. In the summer of 1883 the German papers more than once -expressed vague doubts as to Austria’s fidelity, and public opinion at -Vienna, and more especially as Pesth, was rather astir on the subject. -Kálnoky’s visit to Gastein, where the Emperor Wilhelm showed him -every mark of affection, and his interview with M. de Bismarck, where -everything was satisfactorily explained, completely silenced these -rumors. At the present, the young Minister’s position is exceedingly -secure. He enjoys the Emperor’s full confidence, and, apparently, that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> -of the nation also, for, in the last session of the Trans-and -Cis-Leithanian Delegations he was acclaimed by all parties, even by -the Tscheks who are just now dominant in Cis-Leithania. Count Kálnoky -is hitherto unmarried, which fact, it is said, renders Vienna mothers -despairing and husbands uneasy.</p> - -<p>I pass my evenings at the Salm-Lichtensteins’. I had already the -pleasure of making the acquaintance of the Altgräfin in Florence, -and I am very glad to have an opportunity of meeting her husband, a -member of Parliament very deeply interested in the Tscheko-German -question. He belongs to the Austrian Liberal party, and severely -blames Taaffe’s policy, and the alliance that the Feudal party, -and especially members of his own and of his wife’s families, have -concluded with the ultra-Tscheks. “Their aim is,” he says, “to obtain -the same situation for Bohemia as for Hungary. The Emperor would go to -Prague to receive the crown of St. Wenceslas. An autonomous government -would be re-established in Bohemia under the direction of a Diet, -as in Hungary. The Empire would become triune instead of dual. Save -for questions common to all, the three States would be independent -of each other, united only in the person of the Sovereign. Such an -arrangement answered admirably in the Middle Ages, when it was usual; -but at the present day, when we are surrounded on all sides by great -united Powers, as France, Russia, Prussia and Italy, it is senseless -to advocate it. I admit of federation for small neutral States like -Switzerland, or for a large country embracing an entire Continent, -like the United States; but I consider that for Austria, situated, as -she is, in the heart of Europe, exposed on all sides to complications -and to the greed and envyings of her many neighbors, it would be -absolute perdition. My good friends of the Feudal party, supported by -the clergy, hope that when autonomy is established in Bohemia, and the -country is completely withdrawn from the influence of the Liberals of -the Central Parliament, they themselves will be the masters there, and -the former order of things will be reset on foot. I think they make a -very great mistake. I believe that when the Tscheks have attained the -end they have in view, they will turn against their present allies. -They are at heart all democrats, varying in shade from pale pink to -bright scarlet; but all will band together against the aristocracy and -the clergy, and will make common cause with the German population of -our towns, who are almost all Liberals. The country inhabitants would -also in a great measure join them, and thus the aristocracy and the -clergy would be inevitably vanquished. If necessary the ultra-Tscheks -would call up the memories of John Huss and of Ziska, to ensure the -triumph of their party.</p> - -<p>“Strange to say,” he continues, “the majority of the old families -heading the national movement in Bohemia are of German origin, and -do not even speak the language they wish to be made official. The -Hapsburg dynasty, our capital, our civilization, the initiative and -persistent perseverance to which Austria owes its creation—are not -all these Germanic? In Hungary, German, the language of our Emperor, -is forbidden; it is excluded also in Gallicia, in Croatia, and will -soon be so also in Carinthia, in Transylvania, and in Bohemia. The -present policy is perilous in every respect. It is deeply wounding to -the German element, which is nothing less than the enlightened classes, -commerce, money—the power, in fact, of modern times. If autonomy -is established in Bohemia, it will deliver over the clergy and the -aristocracy to the Tschek democrats and Hussites.”</p> - -<p>“All that you say,” I answer, “is perfectly clear. I can offer but -one objection, which is: that from time to time in the affairs of -humanity certain irresistible currents are to be met with. They are so -irresistible that nothing subdues them, and any impediment in their way -merely serves to increase their force. The nationality movement is one -of these. See what a prodigious reawakening! One might almost compare -it to the resurrection of the dead. Idioms buried hitherto in darkness -spring forth into light and glory. What was the German language in the -eighteenth century, when Frederick boasted that he ignored it, and -prided himself on writing French as perfectly as Voltaire? True, it was -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> -Luther’s language; yet it was not spoken by the upper and educated -classes. Forty years ago, what was the Hungarian tongue? The despised -dialect of the pastors of the Puzta. German was the only language -spoken in good society and in Government offices, and, at the Diet, -Latin. At the present day the Magyar dialect is the language of the -press, of the parliament, of the theatre, of science, of academies, -of the university, of poetry, and of fiction; henceforth the -recognized and exclusive official language, it is imposed even upon -the inhabitants of Croatia or Transylvania, who have no wish for it. -Tschek is gradually securing for itself the same place in Bohemia as -Magyar had attained in Hungary. A similar phenomenon is taking place -in Croatia, the dialect there, formerly merely a popular <i>patois</i>, now -possesses a university at Agram, poets and philologists, a national -press, and a theatre. The Servian tongue, which is merely Croatian -written in Cyrillic characters, has become the official, literary, -parliamentary, and scientific language of Servia. It is in precisely -the same position as its elder brothers, French and German, in their -respective countries. It is the same for the Bulgarian idiom in -Bulgaria and Roumelia, for the Romanian in Romania, for Polish in -Galicia, for Finn in Finland, and soon also in Flanders, where, as -elsewhere, the literary reawakening precedes political claims. With a -constitutional government, the nationality party is sure to triumph, -because there is a constant struggle between the political opponents -as to which shall make the most concessions in order to secure votes -for themselves. This has been also the case in Ireland. Tell me, do -you think it possible that any Government would be able to suppress so -deeply grounded, so universal a movement, whose root is in the very -heart of long-enslaved races, and which must fatally develop as what -is called modern civilization progresses? What is to be done, then, to -quell this irresistible pressing forward of races all claiming their -place in the sunshine? Centralize and compress them, as Schmerlíng and -Bach tried to do? It is too late for that now. The only thing is to -make compromises with these divers nationalities, as Count Taaffe is -trying to do, being careful, at the same time, to protect the rights -of the minority.</p> - -<p>“But,” answers the Altgraf, “in Bohemia we Germans are in a minority, -the Tscheks could crush us mercilessly·”</p> - -<p>The following day I called on M. de V., an influential Conservative -member of Parliament. He appears to me even more distressed than -Count Salm.</p> - -<p>“An Austrian of the old school, a sincere black and yellow, I am, -and even, says M. de V., what you call in your extraordinary Liberal -jargon, a Reactionist. My attachment to the Imperial family is -absolute, as being the common centre of all parties in the State. -I am attached to Count Taaffe, because he is the representative of -Conservative principles; but I deplore his federalistic policy, which, -if pursued, will certainly lead to the disintegration of the Empire. -My audacity even goes so far as to declare that Metternich was a -clever man. Our good friends, the Italians, reproached him with having -said that Italy is a mere geographical expression. But of our empire, -which he made so powerful, and, on the whole, so happy, not even that -will be left, if this system of chopping it into pieces be followed -much longer. It will become a kaleidoscope instead of a State, a mere -collection of dissolving views. Do you recollect Dante’s lines?</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Quivi sospiri, pianti ed alti guai</span> -<span class="i0">Risonavan per l’aer senza stelle.</span> -<span class="i0">Diverse lingue, orribile favelle,</span> -<span class="i0">Parole di dolore, accenti d’ira,</span> -<span class="i0">Voci alte e fioche, e suon di man con elle.’</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>“This is the state of things that is being prepared for us. You would -hardly, perhaps, believe that this mania is now so violently raging -that the Germans in Bohemia, dreading the future power of the Tscheks, -have requested autonomy for that portion of the country where they are -in a majority. On the other hand the Tscheks would never suffer the -division of their realm of St. Wenceslas, so this is another cause of -quarrel. This struggle of races is but a return to barbarous ages. You -are a Belgian and I an Austrian; could we not therefore agree to manage -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> -a business or direct an institution together?” “Of course,” I -reply. “When a certain degree of culture is attained, the important -point is conformity of feeling rather than a common language, but -at the outset, language is the means of arriving at intellectual -culture. The motto of one of our Flemish societies affirms this -most energetically: <i>De taal is het volk</i> (‘Language is everything -for a people’). In my opinion, reason and virtue are the important -points, but without language and letters there can be no progress in -civilization.”</p> - -<p>I take note of a curious little incident, which shows how exceedingly -bitter this animosity of races has become. The Tscheks of Vienna, who -number about 30,000 requested a grant from the town council to assist -them to found a school, where the instruction would be given in their -language. The Rector of the University of that city spoke in favor -of this request at the meeting of the council. The students of the -Tschek University of Prague, apprised of this, forwarded him a vote -of thanks; but in what language? Not in Tschek, the Rector would not -have understood a word; nor in German the language of the oppressors; -in French, as being a foreign idiom and neutral everywhere. The -vote—certainly very justifiable—of the Rector in favor of a Tschek -school in Vienna, was so highly disapproved of by his colleagues that -he was forced to resign his post.</p> - -<p>I go next to see Baron von Neumann, one of the pillars of our Institute -of International Law. Besides his vast legal knowledge he possesses -the precious faculty of speaking all European languages with equal -facility, and has also at his disposal a treasure of quotations -from the most varied literature. In the different towns in which -the Institute has met, he has replied to the authorities appointed -to receive us in their own language, and generally as fluently as a -native. Baron Neumann takes me to the University of which he is one -of the chief ornaments. It is situated quite near the Cathedral, -and is a very ancient building, which will shortly be abandoned for -the sumptuous edifice in course of construction on the Ring. I am -introduced to Professor Lorenz von Stein, author of the best work that -has ever been written on Socialism, “Der Socialismus in Frankreich,” -and also several works on public law and political economy, which are -very highly considered in Germany. I am also very pleased to make the -acquaintance of my youthful colleague M. Schleinitz, who has just -published an important work on the development of landed property. -Baron Neumann transmits me a letter from Baron Kállay, the Financial -Minister, appointing an interview with me before I leave; but I see -first M. de Serres, the director of the Austrian railways, who will be -able to give me some details as to the connection between the Hungarian -and Servian and the Ottoman lines: a question of the very first -importance for the future of the East, and which I have promised myself -to study.</p> - -<p>The Austrian Railway Companies’ offices are in a palace on the Place -Schwarzenberg, the finest part of the Ring. Their interior arrangements -are quite in keeping with the outside appearance. Immense white marble -staircases, spacious and comfortable offices, and the furniture in -the reception-rooms all velvet and gold. What a contrast between this -modern luxury and the simplicity of the Ministerial offices! It is -the symbol of a serious economic revolution. Industry takes priority -of politics. M. de Serres spreads out a map of the railway system on -the table. “See,” he says, “this is the direct line from Pesth to -Belgrade; it crosses the Danube at Peterwardein and the Save at Semlin; -it was necessary therefore to construct two immense bridges, the -piles of which have been constructed by the Fives-Lille Company. The -Belgrade-Nisch section will be very soon inaugurated. At Nisch there -will be a bifurcation of two lines, one continues to Sofia and the -other, branching off, joins the Salonica-Nitrovitza branch at Uskub or -at Varosch. The line is to run along the Upper Morava by Lescovatz and -Vraina. The latter town can then be easily connected with Varosch on -the Salonica line, the distance between these two places being quite -trifling. This branch line, which will be quickly terminated, is of -capital importance. It will be the nearest route to Athens, and even to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> -Egypt and the extreme East; and will ultimately, in all probability, -beat not only Marseilles but Brindisi. The other section of the line, -from Nisch to Sofia and Constantinople, presents great difficulties. -In the first place, the Pass through which the Nischava flows before -reaching Pirot is so wild, narrow, and savage, as to challenge the -skill of our engineers. Then, after leaving Pirot, the line must rise -over some of the last heights of the Balkans to reach the plain of -Sofia; the rocks here, too, are very bad. Beyond, on the high plateau, -there will be no difficulty, and a line was half completed by the -Turks ten years ago, between Sofia and Sarambay (the terminus of their -system); fifteen or sixteen months would suffice to finish it. To be -brief, this year we shall be able to go by rail all through Servia -as far as Nisch. A year later, if no time be lost, we shall reach -Salonica, and, two years afterwards, Constantinople.”</p> - -<p>I thanked M. de Serres for all these interesting details. “The -completion of these lines,” I said, “will be an event of capital -interest for the Eastern world. It will be the signal for an economic -transformation far otherwise important than political combinations, and -will hasten the accomplishment of an inevitable result—the development -and the supremacy of the dominant races. Your Austrian railways and -Hungary will be the first to benefit, but very soon the whole of Europe -will share the advantages which will accrue from the civilization of -the Balkan peninsula.”</p> - -<p>I call after this on Baron Kállay. I am very pleased to have an -opportunity of seeing him, for I am told on all sides that he is -one of the most distinguished statesmen of the empire. He is a pure -Magyar, descended from one of Arpad’s companions, who came to Hungary -towards the close of the ninth century. They must have been a careful -and thrifty family, for they have been successful in retaining their -fortune, an excellent precedent for a Financial Minister! When quite -young, Kállay displayed an extraordinary taste for learning, and he was -anxious to know everything; he worked very hard at the Slav and Eastern -languages, and translated Stuart Mill’s “Liberty” into Magyar, and for -his literary labor he obtained the honor of being nominated a member of -the Hungarian Academy.</p> - -<p>Having failed to be elected deputy in 1866, he was appointed -Consul-General at Belgrade, which post he held for eight years. This -period was not lost to science, for he spent it in collecting matter -for a history of Servia. In 1874 he was elected deputy in the Hungarian -Diet and took his place on the Conservative benches, now the Moderate -Left. He started a newspaper, the <i>Kelet Nepe</i> (The People of the -East), in which he depicted the part Hungary ought to play in Eastern Europe.</p> - -<p>It will be remembered that when the Turko-Prussian war broke out, -followed by the occupation of Bosnia in 1876, the Magyars were most -vehement in their manifestations of sympathy with the Turks, and -the opposition was most violent in attacking the occupation. The -Hungarians were so bitterly hostile to this movement, because they -thought it would be productive of an increase in the number of the Slav -inhabitants in the Empire. Even the Government party was so convinced -of the unpopularity of Andrassy’s policy that they durst not openly -support it. Just at this time, Kállay took upon himself to defend it -in the House. He told his party that it was senseless to favor the -Turkish cause. He proved clearly that the occupation of Bosnia was a -necessity, even from a Hungarian point of view; because this State -forms a corner separating Servia from Montenegro, and thus being in the -hands of Austria-Hungary, prevents the formation of an important Slave -State which might exercise an irresistible attraction on the Croatians, -who are of the same race and speak the same language. He explained -his favorite projects, and spoke of the commercial and civilizing -mission of Hungary in the East. This attitude of a man who knew the -Balkan peninsula by heart and had deeply studied all the questions -referring to it, was most irritating to many members of his party, who -continued for some little time Turcophile; but the speech produced a -profound impression on the nation in general, and public opinion was -considerably modified. Baron Kállay was designated by Count Andrassy as -the Austrian representative in the Commission on Roumelian affairs, and, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> -on his return to Vienna, he was appointed chief of a section in the -Foreign Office. He published his history of Servia in Hungarian; it has -since been translated into German and Servian, and, even at Belgrade, -it was admitted to be the best that exists. He also published, about -this time, an important pamphlet in German and Hungarian, on the -aspirations of Russia in the East during the past three centuries. -Under the Chancellor Haymerlé he became Secretary of State, and his -authority increased rapidly. Count Szlavy, formerly Hungarian Minister, -a very capable man, but with little acquaintance with the countries -beyond the Danube, was then Financial Minister; and, as such, was the -sole administrator of Bosnia. The occupation was a total failure. It -entailed immense expense, the taxes were not paid into the exchequer, -it was said that the money was detained by the Government officials -as during the reign of the Turks, and both the Trans-Leithanian and -Cis-Leithanian Parliaments showed signs of discontent. Szlavy resigned -his post. The Emperor very rightly thinks an immense deal of Bosnia. It -is his hobby, his special interest. During his reign Venetian Lombardy -has been lost, and his kingdom, consequently, diminished. Bosnia is a -compensation for this, and possesses the great advantage of adjoining -Croatia, so that it could easily be absorbed into the empire; whereas, -with the Italian provinces, this was totally impossible. The Emperor -then looked around him for the man capable of setting Bosnian affairs -in order, and at once selected Kállay, who was appointed to replace Szlavy.</p> - -<p>The first act of the new Minister was personally to visit the occupied -province of which he speaks all the varied dialects, and to converse -with the Catholics, Orthodox and Mahommedans there. He thus succeeded -in reassuring Turkish landholders, in encouraging the peasantry to -patience, in reforming abuses and turning the thieves out of the -temple. Expenses became at once reduced and the deficit diminished, but -the undertaking might well be compared to the cleansing of the Augean -stables. Baron Kállay employed great tact and consideration, coupled -with relentless firmness. To be able to set a clock in thorough order -it is necessary to be perfectly acquainted with its mechanism. Last -year he was warned that a tiny cloud was appearing in Montenegro. A -fresh insurrection was dreaded. He started at once to ascertain the -exact position of affairs for himself, and he took his wife with -him to give his visit a non-official character. Lady Kállay is as -intelligent as she is beautiful, and as courageous as intelligent; -this latter is indeed a family quality: Countess Bethlen, she is -descended from the hero of Transylvania, Bethlen Gabor. Their journey -through Bosnia would form the subject of a poem. While on his way from -ovation to ovation, he succeeded in stamping out the lighted wick -which was about to set fire to the powder. Since then, it appears, -matters there have continued to improve; at all events, the deficit -has disappeared, the Emperor is delighted, and every one tells me -that if Austria succeed in retaining Bosnia she will certainly owe -it to Kállay, and that a most important <i>rôle</i> is assuredly reserved -for him in the future administration of the empire. He believes in a -great destiny for Hungary, but he is by no means an ultra-Magyar. He -is prudent, thoughtful, and is well aware of the quagmires by the way. -His Eastern experience is of great service to him. I call on him at his -offices, in a little narrow street and on the second floor. The wooden -staircase is dark and narrow. I cannot help comparing it in my mind to -the magnificent palace of the Railway Company, and I must confess my -preference for this. I am astonished to find him so young; he is but -forty-three years old. The old empire used to be governed by old men, -but this is no longer the case. Youth has now the upper hand, and is -responsible, doubtless, for the present firm and decisive policy of -Austria-Hungary. The Hungarians hold the reins, and their blood has -preserved the ardor and decision of youthful people. It seemed to me -that I breathed in Austria an air of revival.</p> - -<p>Baron Kállay spoke to me first of the Zadrugas, the family communities -which existed everywhere in India, as has so well been shown by Sir -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> -Henry Maine. “Since you published your book on Primitive Property” -(which was, he says, at the time perfectly accurate), “many changes -have taken place—the patriarchal family living on its collective and -unalienable domain is rapidly disappearing. I regret this quite as much -as you can do, but what can be done?”</p> - -<p>Speaking of Bosnia, “We are blamed,” he says, “for not having yet -settled the agrarian question there, but Ireland is sufficient proof -of the difficulties to be met with in solving such problems. In Bosnia -these are further complicated by the conflict between the Mussulman -and our Western laws. One must be on the spot and study these vexed -questions there, fully to realize the hindrances to be met with at -every step. For instance, the Turkish law constitutes the State the -owner of all forests, and I am especially desirous of retaining rights -on these for the purpose of preserving them; on the other hand, in -accordance with a Slav custom, the villagers claim certain rights on -the forests. If they merely cut the wood they needed for household -purposes, only slight harm would be done; but they ruthlessly cut -down trees, and then turn in their goats to eat and destroy the young -shoots, so that there is never any chance of the old trees being -replaced. These wretched animals are the plague of the country. -Wherever they manage to penetrate, nothing is to be found but brushwood.</p> - -<p>“As the preservation of these woods is of the first necessity in so -mountainous a region we intend to pass a law to this end, but the -difficulty will be to enforce it. It would almost necessitate an army -of keepers and constant struggles in every direction. What is really -lacking in this fine country so favored by Nature is a <i>gentry</i> who -would set an example of agricultural progress, as in Hungary. I will -give you an example in proof of this. As a boy I remember that a very -heavy old-fashioned plough was used on our land. In 1848, compulsory -labor was abolished, wages increased, and we had to cultivate -ourselves. We at once sent for the most perfected American iron -ploughs, and at the present day these alone are employed even by the -peasants. Austria has a great mission to fulfil in Bosnia, which will -in all probability benefit general Europe even more than ourselves. She -must, by civilizing the country, justify her occupation of it.”</p> - -<p>“For myself,” I replied, “I have always maintained, in opposition to -my friends the English Liberals, that the annexation of Bosnia and -Herzegovina to Dalmatia was a necessity, and I fully explained this at -a period when the question was not at all under discussion,<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> -but the essential point of all is the making of a railway and roads to -connect the interior with the ports on the coast. The Serayevo-Mortar -line is absolutely a necessity.”</p> - -<p>“I am quite of your opinion,” answers Baron Kállay, “<i>ma i danari</i>, all -cannot be done in a day. We have but just completed the Brod-Serayevo -line, which takes passengers in a day from Vienna to the centre of -Bosnia. It is one of the first boons conferred by the occupation, and -its consequences will be almost measureless.”</p> - -<p>I refer to a speech he has recently pronounced at the Academy of Pesth. -In it he develops his favorite subject, the great mission Hungary is -destined to fulfil in the future; being connected with the East through -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> -the Magyars and with the West through her ideas and institutions, she -must be a link between the Eastern and Western worlds. This theory -provoked a complete overflow of attacks against Magyar pride from all -the German and Slav papers. “These Hungarians,” they said, “imagine -themselves to be the centre of the universe and their Hungaria, the -entire world, <i>Ungarischer Globus</i>. Let them return to their steppes, -these Asiatics, these Tartars, these first cousins of the Turks.” In -the midst of all this vehemence, I am reminded of a little quotation -from a book of Count Zays, which most accurately paints the ardent -patriotism of the Hungarians at once, their honor and strength, but -which develops a spirit of domination and makes them detested by other -races. The quotation is as follows: “The Magyar loves his country and -his nationality better than humanity, better than liberty, better than -himself, better even than God and his eternal salvation.” Kállay’s high -intelligence prevents his falling into this exaggerated Chauvinism. -“No one understood me,” he says, “and no one chose to understand. I -was not talking politics. I had no desire to do so in our Academy at -a scientific and literary meeting. I simply announced an undeniable -fact. Situated at the point of junction of a series of different races -and for the very reason that we speak a non-Indo-Germanic idiom—call -it even Asiatic, if you will—we are compelled to be acquainted with -all the languages of Western Europe. Our institutions, our educational -systems, belong to the Western world. At the same time, by some -mysterious connection with our blood, Eastern dialects are very easily -accessible and comprehensible to us. I have over and over again -remarked that I can grasp much more clearly the meaning of an Eastern -manuscript or document by translating it into Magyar, than if I read a -German or English translation of it.”</p> - -<p>The “Ring,” and how this splendid boulevard has been made, is certainly -a question worthy of an economist’s inquiries. What changes since 1846! -At that period, from the heights of the old ramparts that had sustained -the famous siege of 1683, one could obtain a panorama of the entire -city, with its extensive faubourgs separated from the centre by a -dusty esplanade where the Hungarian regiments, with their tight blue -trousers, drilled every evening. The Volksgarten, where Strauss played -his waltzes, and the Grecian temple with Canova’s statue, have been -left intact; but a boulevard twice as wide as those in Paris runs along -the entire length; ample space has been reserved for the erection -of public monuments and the remainder of the land sold at enormous -prices. The State and the town have constructed public edifices vying -with each other in magnificence; two splendid theatres, a town hall, -which will certainly cost fifty million francs; a palace for the -university, two museums, and a House of Parliament for the Reichsrath. -All around the Ring in addition to the buildings just mentioned, are -Archdukes’ palaces, immense hotels, and private residences, which, -from their grand proportions and the richness of their decorations, -are monuments themselves. I know of nothing comparable to the Ring in -any other capital. Where did Austria find the necessary funds for all -these constructions? The State and the town made a most successful -speculation: the price paid to them for the ground on the esplanade -almost covered all their expenses, but the purchasers of that ground -and the constructions placed upon it—who paid for all that? The -hundreds of millions of francs represented by this land and by the -public buildings and private dwellings on it, all that must spring from -the savings of the country. This affords a clear proof that in spite of -the unfortunate wars, the loss of Venetian Lombardy and the Krach of -1873, in spite also of home difficulties and the persistent deficit, -continuing from year to year, Austria has become much wealthier. -The State is a beggar, but the nation has accumulated capital which -expands itself in all these splendors of the Ring. As on the banks of -the Rhine, all this is due to machinery. As man can with his new and -powerful tools procure nourishment and clothing for a less sum, he can -devote a larger portion of his revenue and labor to his board, his -pleasures, to art and various institutions. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> - -<p class="space-below3">All that I succeeded in ascertaining in Vienna with -respect to the present situation of Bosnia served to confirm the views I -already entertained as to that country. The interests of civilization, and -especially those of the Southern Slavs, command our approval of this -occupation. We arrive at this conclusion by an argument which appears -to me irrefutable. Was it, yes or no, of importance that Bosnia should -be freed from the Turkish yoke? No friend of humanity in general and of -the Slavs can answer this question otherwise than in the affirmative. -Who then is to carry out this freedom? Russia is not to be thought of. -The forming of Bosnia into an independent State would be still worse, -for it would be simply delivering up the rayas without the slightest -defence to the Mussulman Begs. The most tempting plan seemed to be to -unite it to Servia, but in that case Bosnia would have been separated -from its neighbor Dalmatia, and the Servian Government would have -been compelled to undertake the difficult task of keeping its ancient -enemies, the Mussulman Bosniacs, in check. The only other solution was -the present one. Austria-Hungary can neither Magyarize nor Germanize -Bosnia. She brings it safety, order, education and roads; or, in -other words, the elements of modern civilization. Is not this all the -Slavophils can possibly desire? Thus will be formed a new nation, -which will grow up side by side with Croatia and Dalmatia, fortifying -these two countries as it develops, and serving at the same time as a -connecting link between them.—<i>Contemporary Review.</i></p> - -<h2>ENGLISHMEN AND FOREIGNERS.</h2> - -<p>There has always been in the minds of those who have amused themselves -with speculating upon the ultimate destiny of mankind a dim belief that -a good time is coming, when wars shall cease, distinctions of race fade -away, frontiers be abolished, and all nations, kindreds, and languages -be united in the great family of humanity, ruled by “the Parliament -of Man, the Federation of the World.” I should not care to be the -president of that assembly. But indeed there seems little likelihood -that the Millennium will begin yet awhile, or that we, as Englishmen, -shall have any immediate cause to regret our geographical position. As -matters stand at present, isolation has its obvious advantages, and, -judging by analogy, we should neither feel more friendly towards our -neighbors nor understand them better if we could shake hands with them -across an imaginary line, instead of bowing politely to them from the -other side of the waves which Britannia rules.</p> - -<p><i>Comprendre c’est pardonner.</i> Perhaps so; but we are a very long way -from understanding one another as yet. The simple beauty of Free -Trade is not recognised; standing armies have increased; potential -armies include whole nations, and ingenious persons continue to busy -themselves in devising machines for the wiping out of the largest -possible number of their fellow-creatures in the briefest possible -space of time. In short, it may safely be prophesied that the dawn of -universal peace will be deferred until there shall be a common consent -to keep the ninth commandment, which is as much as to say that we shall -none of us live to see the Greek Kalends.</p> - -<p>But we are progressing towards the goal, some sanguine people affirm. -The movement of the earth, which is spinning through space at the -rate of over a thousand miles a minute, is imperceptible to the atoms -that crawl upon its surface; the movements of society are hardly to -be detected by its component parts, which vanish and are replaced -continually. What we do know is that we ourselves are bustling about -much more frequently and rapidly than our forefathers did. We have all -become more or less of rolling stones; and the moss of ignorance and -prejudice is being rubbed off us day by day. It seems natural to assume -that this must be so; but, as a matter of fact, is it so? Do Mr. Cook’s -excursionists obtain the smallest insight into the habits and character -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> -of Continental nations? and do the more ambitious ladies and gentlemen -who would scorn to be “personally conducted” anywhere, and who hastily -survey mankind from China to Peru every year, bring back with them -any notion of what a Chinaman or a Peruvian is like beyond such -as might have been gathered from photographs purchased in Regent -Street? Steam power has enabled us to see many races of men, but it -has made it infinitely more difficult for us to know them. There is, -or there formerly was, in use among the Genevese a queer kind of -carriage, surrounded on three sides by leathern curtains, in which -the occupant sits as in a wagonette, contemplating only that portion -of the landscape which directly faces him; and it is narrated that -an Englishman once hired one of these conveyances, and, after making -the complete circuit of Lake Leman, inquired innocently where it -was. The modern English traveller labors under a somewhat similar -disadvantage. He spends his holidays abroad. He rubs elbows with the -natives in the streets; he gazes at the outside of their houses and at -their closed doors; but he has his back turned to them, as it were, -the whole time; he is among them, but he is not of them. They are not -interested in him. Nor is he ambitious of making their acquaintance. It -is not upon them that he depends for society. When his doctor orders -him to go south for the winter he has no change to dread or hope for, -except a change of scene and climate. Wherever he may go he will -be tolerably sure to find a more than sufficient assemblage of his -fellow-countrymen, an English club, a rubber of whist in the afternoon -if he wishes for it, lawn-tennis grounds innumerable, possibly even a -pack of hounds; and he will be invited to dinners and balls, at which -he may perchance from time to time meet a stray foreigner or two, just -as he might in London.</p> - -<p>With this state of things the generality of us are very well contented. -We no longer think, as Lord Chesterfield did, that “it is of much more -consequence to know the <i>mores multorum hominum</i> than the <i>urbes</i>;” -and the instructions issued by that shrewd old gentleman to his son, when -the latter was completing his education in foreign parts, are simply -amazing to fathers who live in the latter part of the nineteenth -century. “I hope,” says he, “that you will employ the evenings in the -best company in Rome. Go to whatever assemblies or <i>spectacles</i> people -of fashion go to. Endeavor to outshine those who shine there the most; -get the <i>garbo</i>, the <i>gentilezza</i>, the <i>leggiadria</i> of the Italians.... -Of all things I beg of you not to herd with your countrymen, but to be -always either with the Romans or with the foreign ministers residing -at Rome,” and so forth. Fancy advising a young man of the present day -to “get the <i>garbo</i> of the Italians,” and imagining that he would, or -could, do any such thing!</p> - -<p>Lord Chesterfield, no doubt, was able to procure admission for -his son into “the best company” at Rome and elsewhere; but in the -præ-railway era most European capitals were very hospitably disposed -towards persons of less distinction. Provided that these were decent -sort of folks, and that they were received by their ministers, -no further questions were asked, and every facility was afforded -them for acquiring the <i>garbo</i> of the Italians and whatever other -distinctive attributes the French or Germans may have been supposed -to possess. It is probable that they did not take much advantage of -these opportunities, for the English are not naturally imitative; but -at all events they learnt something about the manners and customs -of their entertainers. Most of us have seen letters written by our -grandfathers—possibly even by our fathers—which testify, with -that old-fashioned fulness of style which cheap postage has killed, what -a much more amusing experience travel was then than it is now. The -writers had all kinds of small adventures, incidents, and impressions -to recount; they jogged leisurely along the highroads of Europe in -their heavy travelling carriages, keeping their eyes open as they went; -when they reached a famous city they did not set to work to calculate -in how few days the sights of that city could be seen and done with, -but hired for themselves a house or an <i>appartement</i>, prepared for a -long stay, and presented their letters of introduction. Of course they -were in a small minority. Half a century ago it was not everybody who -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> -had time enough or money enough to leave home for an indefinite period. -But, as far as the promotion of universal brotherhood is concerned, -the knowledge of the few may perhaps be as useful as the superficial -familiarity of the many.</p> - -<p>As a means to the above end increased facility of locomotion seems to -have failed. Some time-honored superstitions have, it is true, been -swept away thereby; we no longer imagine that frogs form the staple -article of a Frenchman’s diet, while the French, on their other side, -do not now accuse us of selling our wives at Smithfield, although their -belief that we prefer raw to cooked meat appears to be ineradicable. -Yet there are very few Englishmen—so few that one might venture to -make a list of them—who can be said to be at home in French society -or to be capable of following the drift of French opinion. This last, -it must be confessed, is not an easy feat, and indeed can hardly -be accomplished by anything short of a prolonged residence in the -country. Foreigners naturally form their opinion of a nation as much -from reading as from personal observation, and probably there is no -people so ill-represented by its press as the French. Any one who -should read for a year the “Times,” the “Daily News,” the “Standard,” -and “Punch,” to say nothing of the weekly reviews, would be able, at -the end of that time, to pronounce a fairly accurate judgment upon -English politics and English habits of thought. Can it be supposed -that, after a twelvemonth’s patient study of the “Journal des Débats,” -the “République Française,” the “Figaro,” and the “Vie Parisienne,” the -inquiring stranger would be in an equally favorable position as regards -our neighbors across the water? English novels, again, may be said to -mirror English life faithfully, upon the whole, but if a man should -base his estimate of French society upon a study of the best French -novelists he would arrive at a conclusion almost grotesquely unlike the truth.</p> - -<p>For the French novelist, for all his so-called realism, takes neither -his characters nor his scenes from everyday life, his contention being -that, were he to do so, he would produce a work so insufferably dull -that no one would buy it. Writing, not as we do <i>virginibus puerisque</i>, -but for readers who like the dots to be placed upon the i’s, he sets -before them a succession of pictures from life, drawn often with great -power and insight into human nature, nearly always with scrupulous -exactitude of detail, and asserts—what cannot be denied—that they -are true pictures. It is a pity that they are usually unpleasant pictures, -and that they are liable to be misinterpreted by readers who adopt -the too common course of arguing from the particular to the general. -There is no occasion to dispute the accuracy of the scenes portrayed -in such books as “Le Nabab” or “Les Rois en Exil,” or to doubt that -the author could, if he chose, point to the living or dead originals -of his chief characters and declare that he has maligned none of them; -but when we find him, year after year dwelling and insisting upon what -is most ignoble in his fellow-creatures, we are surely entitled to -accuse him of a <i>suppressio veri</i> and a <i>suggestio falsi</i>. With -the single exception of “Tartarin de Tarascon,” which is a burlesque, I do -not remember one of M. Daudet’s books, from “Fromont Jeune et Risler -Aîné,” down to “Sapho,” his last and infinitely his worst production, -which does not leave behind it a profound impression of sadness. -“C’est la faute de la vie, qui dicte,” he said once, in answer to this -reproach, as though life had but one side, or as though the literal -truthfulness of a photograph conveyed all that there is to be seen in a -landscape. But indeed some people, as we know, have the misfortune to -be color-blind, and to them, no doubt, the outlines of the world must -seem to be filled in rather with shade than with light. One may pay -a willing homage to M. Daudet’s genius and yet suspect that life, if -he had chosen to listen, might have dictated to him different stories -from those which he has published, and one may question whether his -sons will be much the better for reading “Sapho” even “quand ils auront -vingt ans.”</p> - -<p>The subject of French fiction, its tendencies and its influences, -is too long a one to be more than glanced at here. The wit, the -brilliancy, the charm of style of About, Octave Feuillet, Cherbuliez, -Jules Clarétie, and others of less repute are familiar to most educated -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> -men. Not all of them are such pessimists as M. Daudet; yet those who -know what <i>ordinary</i> French life is will find only a faint reflection -of it in the novels of the above-named writers, unless it be here and -there in the pages of the first. It is always best to avoid making -statements which, from their very nature, are not susceptible of proof; -but, after associating pretty constantly with French people for a -matter of twenty years, I will take upon me to say that I doubt very -much whether the marriage-vow is broken more frequently in France than -elsewhere. That weary old tale of conjugal infidelity, which appears -to be as essential to the French novelist as the more legitimate love -affair and marriage at the end of the third volume are to his British -confrère, might, I believe, be told with as much or as little truth of -other countries. There is an old story of an artist who sent a sketch -of some Indian scene to one of the illustrated papers, and afterwards -complained that it had been tampered with before publication, a group -of palms having been introduced into the background, whereas those -trees were unknown in the region which he had depicted. “That is very -possible, Mr.——,” replied the editor; “but let me tell you that the -public expects palms in an Oriental landscape, and <i>will have them</i>.” -Not being a publisher, I am not in a position to affirm that the French -public expects, and will have, a breach of the seventh commandment in -its novels; but there is every reason to infer that such is the opinion -of French authors.</p> - -<p>Of course it may be urged that, in literature as in forms of -government, people commonly get what they deserve, and that a public -which demands the kind of nutriment alluded to must be an unhealthy -and immoral sort of public. It should, however, be borne in mind that -there is a much larger portion of the French than of the English public -which never reads novels at all. Whether the immense sale commanded by -such works as “L’Assommoir” and “Nana” is or is not a sign of national -decadence is a question which will not be too hastily answered by any -one who remembers the various phases through which literature has -passed in other lands, but none need hesitate to say that the effect -produced by them upon outside opinion of France and the French has -been eminently unfavorable. It is not with impunity that a nation can -delight, or seem to delight, in the contemplation of foulness. France, -“ce pays de gens aimables, doux, honnêtes, droits, gais, superficiels, -pleins de bon cœur,” to quote M. Renan, who knows his countrymen -well and does not always flatter them, is becoming more and more -regarded as a sink of iniquity, and those who watch the development of -her manners, as illustrated by some of her most popular novelists, are -beginning to ask themselves whether any good can come out of Nazareth. -In England more especially this feeling is gaining ground. If we are -little, or not at all, better acquainted with the French people than -we were fifty years ago, we are a good deal better acquainted with -the French language. We read all the new French books, particularly -the new French novels (sometimes we have to keep them under lock and -key, and peruse them stealthily after the other members of the family -have gone to bed), and it is hardly surprising that we should take -our neighbors at what appears to be their own valuation. Englishmen, -sober, reticent—a trifle Pharisaical, it may be—cannot pardon -writers who take pleasure in stripping poor human nature of its last shred -of dignity and exhibiting it to the world under its most revolting -aspects. These things are true, the naturalistic school of novel -writers say. What then? we may return. Most people know that hideous -forms of vice exist; but most people think it is safer and wiser not -to talk about them. As for those who do not know, for what conceivable -reason should they be told? And so the Englishman, when he takes his -walk through the streets of Paris, feels that he would just as soon -have nothing to do with the unclean persons who, as he presumes inhabit -that city.</p> - -<p>The truth is that there has never been any real sympathy between these -two nations, so nearly united in geographical position and by some -political ties and so widely separated in all other respects. Perhaps -our one and only point of resemblance is our common inability to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> -adapt ourselves to ways that are not our ways. A Frenchman, wherever he -goes, is always a Frenchman, and an Englishman is always an Englishman. -In this particular the Americans have the advantage of us. With their -keenness of observation, their restless curiosity, their desire to -pick out and appropriate whatever seems to them best in foreign lands, -the Americans have fewer prejudices and fewer antipathies than we who -live in the Old World. Their extreme sensitiveness does not often -take the form of self-consciousness; they readily pick up the tone of -the society that they frequent, and, although they are not as a rule, -first-rate linguists, they soon acquire enough knowledge of a language -to enable them to converse easily with the inhabitants of the country -in which they are sojourning. Moreover, they are less prone than we -are to save themselves trouble by accepting other people’s views, and, -whatever their opinion may be worth, are generally able at least to -give grounds for holding it.</p> - -<p>In the case of our kinsmen on the other side of the Atlantic we have -of late years unquestionably made a great advance towards mutual -understanding, and, it may be added, friendship. Possibly we are none -the worse friends for having disliked one another very cordially not -so long ago. There is a prevalent impression in this country that the -quarrel was one-sided, that the Americans were irritated (excusably -perhaps) by our recognition of the Confederate States as belligerents, -as well as by the general sympathy that was felt in England for the -Southern cause, and that we really never said half such unpleasant -things about them as they did about us. But if they expressed their -aversion more loudly than we did it is not so certain that ours was -any less deep; and in our present liberal and enlightened mood we can -afford to admit that most of us had but a poor opinion of our cousins, -from a social point of view, twenty years back. I happened, towards the -close of the civil war, to be in a German city much frequented both -by English and Americans, who could hardly be induced to speak to one -another. The British chaplain of the place—remembering, I suppose, -that the Americans who attended his services contributed something -towards the defrayal of the expenses connected therewith—took it into -his head one Sunday to pray for the President of the United States, -a custom which has since become universal among mixed congregations -on the Continent. In those days it was an innovation, and an English -gentleman who was present marked his disapproval of it by thumping his -stick on the floor and saying aloud, “I thought this was an English -church!” after which he picked up his hat and walked out. It is only -fair to his compatriots to add that in the very pretty quarrel which -ensued they declined to support him: but I doubt whether it was so much -with his sentiments that they were displeased as with his disregard for -religious propriety. How the affair ended I do not know. Let us hope -that bloodshed was averted, and that the irate Briton was brought to -see that there could be no great harm in paying the same compliment to -the President of the United States as we are accustomed to pay to Jews, -Turks, infidels, and heretics. Squabbles of this kind are, happily, -now rare. The “Alabama” claims were settled long ago; Americans in -large numbers visit our shores every year, and are to be met with -pretty frequently in London society, where they are kind enough to -say that they have a lovely time; some are almost domiciled among us, -and have recorded in print their intimate acquaintance with our mode -of life in London and in the country. Perhaps their criticisms were a -trifle too subtle for us just at first, but now that the subtlety has -been discovered and proclaimed we quite delight in it. We, for our -parts, think no more of crossing the Atlantic than we used to think -of crossing the Channel; we partake of the boundless hospitality that -awaits us on the other side, and do not fail to let our entertainers -know how pleased we are with them before we re-embark. We used to add -a kindly expression of surprise at finding them so agreeable, but we -don’t do this any more now. If the perennial interchange of civilities -is sometimes broken by a stage aside we pretend not to hear it, and it -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> -may safely be asserted that we have as much real affection for one -another as commonly subsists between collaterals. That, of course, is -saying no more than that we shall probably continue to be friends until -a cause for dispute arises; but more than this cannot, surely, be said -of any two nations upon the earth’s surface, and, fortunately, there is -little prospect of a difference between England and America which may -not be peaceably settled.</p> - -<p>Since the war of 1870 our eyes have been turned towards Germany -with the interest and admiration which success must ever command. -Our military system has been remodelled upon the German system; we -have crowned our soldiers with a helmet somewhat resembling the -<i>Pickelhaube</i>, which is, I believe, found to be quite as inconvenient -as that celebrated head gear, and which is certainly several degrees -more unsightly. Also we have a high respect for Prince Bismarck, -considering him as the greatest statesman of the age, and drinking in -eagerly the reports of his utterances vouchsafed to us by Dr. Busch -and others. I have not, however, observed as yet any sign that we—as -represented by our Government—are inclined to display flattery in its -sincerest form by adopting the Chancellor’s decisive method of dealing -with any little difficulties that may arise.</p> - -<p>In point of consanguinity the people whom he has succeeded in uniting -into a nation are not a long way removed from us; in times past they -have frequently been our allies; they have, moreover, given us our -reigning dynasty. Perhaps, upon the whole we get on better with them -than with any other continental race. Many English families repair to -Germany for educational purposes, are received at the smaller courts, -visited by the high-nobly born <i>Herrschaft</i> with whom they are brought -into contact, and thus gain some idea of German ways. It has been said -that a sailor is the best of good fellows anywhere except on board -his own ship, when he is apt to become—well, not quite so good a -fellow. The contrary rule would appear to apply to the German, who is a -kindly, pleasant, person at home, but whose demeanor when abroad leaves -something to be desired. We have all met him in Italy or Switzerland, -and we are all aware that his manners, like Mr. Pumblechook’s, “is -given to blusterous.” We have suffered from the loud, harsh voice with -which Nature has afflicted him, as well as from his deep distrust of -fresh air and his unceremonious method of making his way to the front -at railway stations. But in their own country the Germans show to -much greater advantage. They are well-disposed towards strangers; not -a few of them have the sporting pro-civilities which are a passport -to the British heart; they are easily pleased, and are, in the main, -amiable, unassuming people. It is much to their credit that their sober -heads were never turned by victories which would assuredly have sent a -neighboring nation half crazy. Of course there are Germans and Germans, -and the inhabitants of the State which holds the chief rank in the -Empire have never been renowned for prepossessing manners or for an -excess of modesty. Even they, however, have a good deal of the innocent -unsuspiciousness which is one of the charms of the Teutonic character. -Not long ago I chanced to be speaking to a Prussian gentleman about -the ill-feeling which existed at that time between his country and -Russia, and which seemed likely enough to culminate in an outbreak of -hostilities. He assured me that the ill-feeling was entirely on the -Russian side.</p> - -<p>“We have nothing against them,” he declared, “and we want nothing -from them; but they are angry with us, and that is easily explained. -They cannot get on without us; they are obliged to employ our people -everywhere instead of their own, and they are furious because they have -to acknowledge the superiority of the German intellect.”</p> - -<p>I remarked that the superiority of the German intellect was manifest; -whereupon he shrugged his shoulders quickly, and snorted in the -well-known Prussian fashion, as who should say, “Could any one be such -a fool as to doubt it?”</p> - -<p>I went on to observe that in philosophy, science, and music Germany led -mankind. He agreed with me, and added, “Also in the art of war.”</p> - -<p>“The Germans,” I proceeded, “are the best-educated people in the -world;” and he replied, “No doubt.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> - -<p>“And they are the pleasantest company.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” answered he, “that is so.”</p> - -<p>“And what adds so much to the attractiveness of their conversation,” I -continued, “is their delicate wit and keen perception of irony.”</p> - -<p>I confess that after I had made this outrageous speech I shook in my -shoes and looked down at my plate. I ought never to have said it, and -indeed I would not have said it if he had not led me on until it became -irresistible. But there was no occasion for alarm. When I raised my -eyes to my neighbor’s face I found it irradiated with smiles. He laid -his hand on my arm quite affectionately.</p> - -<p>“What you say is perfectly true,” he cried; “but do you know you are -the very first stranger I have ever met who has had the sense to discover it?”</p> - -<p>And then he explained to me that the Germans were absurdly considered -by Frenchmen and other superficial observers to be a rather dull-witted -and heavy race.</p> - -<p>Now I really do not see how any one is to help liking a nation so -happily self-complacent. The Prussians are said to be arrogant and -overbearing; but I don’t think they are so, unless they are rubbed the -wrong way; and what pleasure is there in rubbing people the wrong way? -When Victor Hugo announces that France is supreme among nations, when -he invites us to worship the light that emanates from the holy city of -Paris, and hints that we might do well to worship also the proclaimer -of that light, we are half shocked and half incredulous. The bombast -seems too exaggerated to be sincere; it has the air of challenging and -expecting contradiction. We find it impossible to believe that any -sane man can really mean much of what this great poet tells us that he -means. French vanity—and Victor Hugo, whether at his highest or at his -lowest, is always essentially French—is not amusing. It is the kind of -vanity which is painful to witness, and which cannot but be degrading -to those who allow themselves to give way to it. But in the placid -North German self-approval there is a child-like element, which is not -unpleasing nor even wholly undignified. It may provoke a smile; but -the smile is a friendly one. These excellent stout professors and -bearded warriors who are so thoroughly pleased with themselves, and -who never suspect that anybody can be laughing at them, command our -sympathies—perhaps because John Bull himself is not quite a stranger -to the sensations that they experience.</p> - -<p>Yet, when all is said and done, John Bull remains John Bull. German -philosophy, French wit, American acuteness, the “<i>garbo</i> of the -Italians”—these things are not for him, nor is he specially desirous -of assimilating them. He is as God made him, and has an impression that -worse types have been created. At the bottom of his heart—though he no -longer speaks it out as freely as of yore—there still lurks the old -contempt for “foreigners.” As I have already made so bold as to say, I -do not think that the hustle and bustle of the present age have brought -him any clearer comprehension of these foreigners than his forefathers -possessed, or that the advent of the universal republic has been at all -hastened by the rise of democracy and the triumph of steam. Certainly -all men are human, and all dogs are dogs; but you will not convert a -bulldog into a setter by taking him out shooting, nor a mastiff into -a spaniel by keeping them in one kennel. It is doubtless well that -those who own a large number of dogs should encourage familiarity among -them, and restrain them from delighting to bark and bite, and it might -also be a good thing to induce them, if possible, to recognise each -others respective utilities. But they never do recognise these. On the -contrary, they contemplate one another’s performances with the deepest -disdain, and if we could see into the workings of their canine minds -we should very likely discover that each is perfectly satisfied with -himself, and as convinced that his breed is superior to all others as -Victor Hugo is that Paris is the light of the world.</p> - -<p>Recent inventions have dealt some heavy blows at time and space, but -have not as yet done much towards abolishing national distinctions of -character. One result of them, as melancholy as it is inevitable, is -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> -the slow vanishing of the picturesque. The period of general dead-level -has set in; old customs have fallen into abeyance and old costumes are -being laid aside. The “Ranz des Vaches” no longer echoes among the -Swiss mountains; the Spanish <i>sombrero</i> has been discarded in favor -of a chimney-pot hat; the Hungarian nobles reserve their magnificent -frippery for rare state occasions, and the black coat, deemed so -significant a sign of the times by Alfred de Musset, is everywhere -replacing the gay clothing of a less material era. But, for all that, -mastiffs are mastiffs and spaniels spaniels. Democracy claims to be -cosmopolitan: perhaps some of us may live long enough to see what -the boast is worth. If it be permitted to ground a prophecy upon the -lessons of history, we may say that co-operation is possible only so -long as interests are identical, and that the mainspring of all human -collective action is, and will be, nothing more or less than that -selfishness which, as Lord Beaconsfield once told us, is another word -for patriotism.—<i>Cornhill Magazine.</i></p> - -<h2>FRENCH DUELLING.</h2> - -<p class="center space-below1"><b>BY H. R. HAWEIS.</b></p> - -<p>One of the liveliest little duels we have lately heard of is that which -took place in October between the journalist M. Rochefort and Captain -Fournier. It appears that the gallant captain felt himself aggrieved by -some free expressions in the “Intransigeant,” challenged the editor, -and both belligerents went out with swords, whereupon Rochefort pinked -Fournier, Fournier slashed Rochefort, both lost a teaspoonful or so of -blood, and honor appears to have been satisfied.</p> - -<p>In the eyes of the average Briton there is always something absurd -about a duel. He either thinks of the duel in “The Rivals,” as it -is occasionally witnessed at Toole’s theatre, or of Mark Twain’s -incomparable “affair” with M. Gambetta; but it seldom occurs to any one -in this country to think of a duel as being honorable to either party, -or capable of really meeting the requirements of two gentlemen who may -happen to have a difference of opinion.</p> - -<p>The Englishman kicks his rival in Pall Mall, canes him in Piccadilly, -or pulls his nose and calls him a liar at his club. He is then had up -for assault and battery, his grievance is well aired in public, he is -consoled by the sympathy of an enlarged circle of friends, pays a small -fine, and leaves the court “without a stain upon his character.” If, on -the other hand, his rival is in the right, the damages are heavy, and -his friends say, “Pity he lost his temper and made a fool of himself,” -and there the matter ends. In either case outraged justice or wounded -honor is attended to at the moderate cost of a few sovereigns, a bloody -nose, or a smashed hat.</p> - -<p>We think on the whole it is highly creditable to England that this -should be so. The abolition of duelling by public opinion is a distinct -move up in the scale of civilisation.</p> - -<p>Perhaps we forget how very recent that “move up” is.</p> - -<p>When it ceased to be the fashion to wear swords in the last century, -pistols were substituted for these personal encounters. This made -duelling far less amusing, more dangerous, and proportionally less -popular. The duel in England received practically its <i>coup de grâce</i> -with the new Articles of War of 1844, which discredited the practice -in the army by offering gentlemen facilities for public explanation, -apology, or arbitration in the presence of their commanding officer. -But previous to this “the duel of satisfaction” had assumed the most -preposterous forms. Parties agreed to draw lots for pistols and to -fight, the one with a loaded, the other with an unloaded weapon.</p> - -<p>This affair of honor (?) was always at short distances and -“point-blank,” and the loser was usually killed. Another plan was to go -into a dark room together and commence firing. There is a beautiful and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> -pathetic story told of two men, the one a “kind” man and the other a -“timid” man, who found themselves unhappily bound to fight, and chose -the dark-room duel. The kind man had to fire first, and, not wishing to -hurt his adversary, groped his way to the chimney-piece and, placing -the muzzle of his pistol straight up the chimney, pulled the trigger, -when, to his consternation, with a frightful yell down came his -adversary the “timid” man, who had selected that fatal hiding-place.</p> - -<p>Another grotesque form was the “medical duel,” one swallowing a pill -made of bread, the other swallowing one made of poison. When matters -had reached this point, public opinion not unnaturally took a turn -for the better, and resolved to stand by the old obsolete law against -duelling, whilst enacting new bye-laws for the army, which of course -reacted powerfully, with a sort of professional authority, upon the -practice of bellicose civilians.</p> - -<p>The duel was originally a mere trial of <i>might</i>, like our prize fight; -it was so used by armies and nations, as in the case of David and -Goliath, or as when Charles V. challenged Charlemagne to single combat. -But in mediæval times it got to be also used as a test of <i>right</i>, -the feeling of a judicial trial by ordeal entering into the struggle -between two persons, each claiming right on his side.</p> - -<p>The judicial trial by ordeal was abandoned in the reign of Elizabeth, -but the practice of private duelling has survived in spite of adverse -legislation, and is exceedingly popular in France down to the present -day. The law of civilised nations has, however, always been dead -against it. In 1599 the parliament of Paris went so far as to declare -every duellist a rebel to his majesty; nevertheless, in the first -eighteen years of Henri Quatre’s reign no fewer than 4,000 gentlemen -are said to have perished in duels, and Henri himself remarked, when -Creyin challenged Don Philip of Savoy, “If I had not been the king I -would have been your second.” Our ambassador, Lord Herbert, at the -court of Louis XIII., wrote home that he hardly ever met a French -gentleman of repute who had not either killed his man or meant to do -so! and this in spite of laws so severe that the two greatest duellists -of the age, the Count de Boutteville and the Marquis de Beuron, were -both beheaded, being taken <i>in flagrante delicto</i>.</p> - -<p>Louis XIV. published another severe edict in 1679, and had the courage -to enforce it. The practice was checked for a time, but it received -a new impulse after the close of the Napoleonic wars. The dulness of -Louis Philippe’s reign and the dissoluteness of Louis Napoleon’s both -fostered duelling. The present “opportunist” Republic bids fair to -outbid both. You can hardly take up a French newspaper without reading -an account of various duels. Like the suicides in Paris, and the -railway assaults in England, duels form a regular and much appreciated -item of French daily news.</p> - -<p>It is difficult to think of M. de Girardin’s shooting dead poor -Armand Carell—the most brilliant young journalist in France—without -impatience and disgust, or to read of M. Rochefort’s exploit the other -day without a smile.</p> - -<p>The shaking hands in the most cordial way with M. Rochefort, the -compliments on his swordsmanship, what time the blood flowed from an -ugly wound, inflicted by him as he was mopping his own neck, are all so -many little French points (of honor?) which we are sure his challenger, -Captain Fournier, was delighted to see noticed in the papers. No doubt -every billiard-room and café in Paris gloated over the details, and the -heroes, Rochefort and Fournier, were duly fêted and dined together as -soon as their respective wounds were sufficiently healed.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile John Bull reads the tale and grunts out loud, “The whole -thing is a brutal farce and the ‘principals’ are no better than a -couple of asses.”</p> - -<p>Now, admitting that there are some affronts which the law cannot and -does not take cognisance of, in these days such affronts are very few. -That terrible avenger, public opinion, is in this nineteenth century a -hundred-handed and a hundredfold more free, powerful, and active than -it used to be, before the printing-press, and, I may add, railways, -telegraphs, and daily newspapers. But of all cases to which duelling, -by the utmost stretch of honorable license, could be applied—a mere -press attack is perhaps the least excusable. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> - -<p>Here are the French extolling the freedom of the English press by -imitating—or trying to imitate—English independence and the right -to speak and act and scribble <i>sans gêne</i>—and it turns out that an -honorable member in the Senate cannot lose his temper, or a journalist -write a smart article, without being immediately requested to fight. -“Risum teneatis, amici!” and this is the people who think themselves -fit for liberty, let alone equality and fraternity! (save the mark!)</p> - -<p>The old town clerk at Ephesus in attempting to compose a dispute of a -rather more serious character some eighteen hundred years ago, between -a certain Jew and a Greek tradesman, spoke some very good sense when he -appealed to both disputants thus: “If Demetrius have a matter against -any man the law is open, and there are deputies: let them implead one -another.”</p> - -<p class="space-below3">Next time M. Rochefort pokes fun at Captain Fournier -in the “Intransigeant,” we advise the captain, instead of pinking that witty -but scurrilous person, to try the law of libel. If he wins he will -get money in his purse, which is better than an ugly gash in his -side; if he loses he will go home to consider his ways and perchance -amend them, under the stimulus of a just public rebuke—a sadder and -perhaps a <i>wiser</i> man: that, indeed, both he and Rochefort might easily -be.—<i>Belgravia.</i></p> - -<h2>JOHN WYCLIFFE: HIS LIFE AND WORK.</h2> - -<p>The quincentenary of the death of John Wycliffe occurring on the 31st -day of this month (December 1884), invites us to review the work -with which the name of Wycliffe is associated and identified. “John -Wycliffe,” says Dean Hook, “may be justly accounted one of the greatest -men that our country has produced. He is one of the very few who have -left the impress of their minds, not only on their own age, but on all -time,”<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> -He is also one of the few who are known to us only in their work, and -by their work. For it may be said that, apart from Wycliffe’s work, we -know nothing of the man. His work is his memorial: in it he lives.</p> - -<p>Wycliffe’s work may be viewed in its relation to the -University—Oxford; to the Crown—the national independence; to the -hierarchy—the clergy; and to the laity—the people. According to this -method of survey and review, Wycliffe appears successively in history -as a student and scholastic disputant; as a politician and patriot; -as a theologian and reformer; and as a Christian evangelist and -preacher of grace, righteousness, and truth. These successive phases -of Wycliffe’s work correspond with the events of his life; and they -indicate the progress of the great work to which Wycliffe had dedicated -his powers. This, again, implies that it was only step by step—little -by little— that Wycliffe’s views assumed that form in which they were -developed and expressed in the later years of his life.</p> - -<p>It is impossible to determine either the date of Wycliffe’s first -admission to Oxford or the college in which he first studied. Of his -early life at the university, as of his earlier life at home, we know -nothing. According to the statements of some of his biographers, -Wycliffe was born in the year 1324, in the hamlet of Spreswell, near -old Richmond, in Yorkshire. In 1340, he went to Oxford, and was one -of the first commoners received into Queen’s college—an institution -opened that year for the first time. After a short attendance in -Queen’s, he joined himself to Merton, and became a fellow of that -famous College. The historian Fuller says that Wycliffe was a graduate -of Merton, but he makes no mention of his having been at an earlier -time connected with Queen’s College. “We can give no account,” he -says, “of Wycliffe’s parentage, birthplace, or infancy; only we find an -ancient family of the Wycliffes in the bishopric of Durham,<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> -since by match united to the Brackenburies, persons of prime quality in those -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> -parts. As for this our Wycliffe, history at the very first meets -with him a man, and full grown, yea, graduate of Merton College in -Oxford.”<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> -Of the six Oxford colleges of that time, Merton had -acquired for itself a splendid and well-deserved reputation. “And, -indeed, malice itself cannot deny that this college, or little -university, rather, doth equal, if not exceed, any one foundation in -Christendom, for the famous men bred therein.”<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> -Roger Bacon (1280), <i>Doctor Mirabilis</i>; John Duns Scotus (1308), <i>Doctor Subtilis</i>; -Walter Burley (1337), <i>Doctor Approbatus</i>; William of Ocham (1347), <i>Doctor -Singularis</i> or <i>Pater Nominalium</i>; and Thomas Bradwardine (1350), -<i>Doctor Profundus</i>,—were all bred in Merton College. John Wycliffe -seems to have early entertained and cherished the ambition to add -his name to the number of those renowned doctors who as students had -preceded him in Merton College. If this was his ambition, he attained -to the object of his desire when, by his contemporaries, he was -recognised as <i>Doctor Evangelicus</i>. It would appear that, at an early -period in his life, he had, after much deliberation, made choice of -the Bible or the Gospel as his great theme. To be a “Biblicist,” or -Bible student and interpreter, was not considered a high or honorable -distinction by the schoolmen—the men of “culture” of that age. -But to think for himself and to choose for himself was a notable -characteristic of the young Yorkshireman, John Wycliffe. In making his -choice and in linking himself indissolubly to the Word and “cause of -God,”<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> -he seems to have been much influenced by the example and by -the teaching of Bradwardine. But he made it his aim to be a proficient, -and, if possible, a master in all attainable science and learning. -That he had been a thorough student of the Trivium and Quadrivium is -proved by his works, for they all bear the impress of the disciplined -scholastic and the skilful dialectician. In all respects he was a -worthy successor of the distinguished band of men who had been his -predecessors in Merton. The writings of Wycliffe show that he had -studied very carefully the works of Roger Bacon, of Duns Scotus, and of -William of Ocham. But the same writings show that he had early learned -to call no man master—for while he accepts much from Duns Scotus, he -also accepts much from William of Ocham. Truth seems to have been the -object of his early, eager, and constant pursuit.</p> - -<p>The first notable and formal recognition of Wycliffe’s eminence within -the university, is found in his appointment to be Warden or Master -of Balliol. In this honorable office he continued only for a few -years—1360-1362. From Balliol he received nomination to the rectorship -of the parish of Fylingham, in Lincolnshire. Soon after his appointment -to a pastoral cure, he resigned his position as Master of Balliol. -Wycliffe’s connection with the diocese of Lincoln, through his being -rector of Fylingham, seems to have had an important influence on the -progressive development of his ecclesiastical and religious life. A -former Bishop of Lincoln—1235-1254—Grossetête (Greathead), was spoken -of by Roger Bacon as “the only man living” in that age “who was in -possession of all the sciences.” The writings of this great and good -bishop are continually quoted or referred to by Wycliffe.</p> - -<p>A most significant testimony to the standing influence and reputation -of Wycliffe in the university was given in 1365 by Simon Islip, -Archbishop of Canterbury, who appointed him Warden of Canterbury Hall. -In the Archbishop’s letter of institution, Wycliffe is described, “as -one in whose fidelity, circumspection, and prudence his Grace very -much confided, and on whom he had fixed his eyes on account of the -honesty of his life, his laudable conversation, and his knowledge of -letters.” The significance and worth of this testimony can hardly -be overestimated. It is all the more significant because of the -circumstances in which it was given, and the nomination to which it -was designed to give effect. In founding Canterbury Hall, Islip had -appointed Woodhull—a monk of Canterbury—to be Warden. With him three -other monks and eight secular scholars were associated in the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> -government of the hall. After a trial of four years of this mixed -administration, finding that it did not work well, more particularly -because of the jealousies, contentions, and collisions between the -monks and the secular associates, Islip, in the exercise of a right -which he had reserved to himself, displaced the Warden and the -three other monks, and appointed Wycliffe in the place of Woodhull; -and three secular priests, Selby, Middleworth, and Benger, to be -associates or fellows in the room of the three monks. This action -on the part of the Archbishop gave great offence to the monks of -Christ Church and to the whole order of the Friars. It was regarded -as virtually and in effect an act by which the Archbishop of -Canterbury gave the weight of his high position and great authority -to those who in Oxford were the resolute and strenuous opponents -of the mendicant friars. Consequences that could not have been -foreseen by any concerned in this action flowed from it. For not -long after Wycliffe’s appointment to the Wardenship of Canterbury -Hall, Archbishop Islip died on the 26th April 1366, and was succeeded -in November by Simon Langham, who had been monk, prior, and abbot -of Westminster. By this Archbishop, Wycliffe and the three secular -priests who had been so recently appointed to govern Canterbury -Hall were removed. Woodhull and his associates were reinstated in -the position from which they had been expelled by Islip, and, in -violation of the founder’s will, the eight secular scholars were -ejected. The hall thus became virtually a monastic institution. -Wycliffe’s appeal to the papal court at Avignon was of no avail. -After a protracted process and long delay, the Pope gave judgment -against him in 1370. We cannot better conclude this chapter in -Wycliffe’s life than by quoting the words of Godwin. They will -prepare us for what comes next in the order of events:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> -“From Canterbury College, which his predecessor had -founded, he (Langham) sequestered the fruits of the -benefice of Pageham, and otherwise molested the -scholars there, intending to displace them all and to -put in monks, which in the end he brought to pass. -John Wycliffe was one of them that were so displaced, -and had withstood the Archbishop in this business -with might and main. By the Pope’s favor and the -Archbishop’s power, the monks overbore Wycliffe and -his fellows. If, then, Wycliffe were angry with Pope, -Archbishop, monks, and all, you cannot marvel.”<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> -</p> - -<p>Nothwithstanding the very reasonable remark of Godwin that we need -not wonder much if Wycliffe, considering the treatment which he had -received at the hands of the Pope, the Archbishop, and the monks, -should be angry against them all, there is no proof or evidence -whatever in support of the allegation of his adversaries, that his -antagonism to the friars and his attitude towards the Pope proceeded -from irritated feeling, discontent, and disappointed ambition. On -the contrary, the absence of all such feelings is one of the most -remarkable and characteristic distinctions of his numerous writings.</p> - -<p>Wycliffe’s nomination by Islip to the Wardenship of Canterbury Hall -is dated the 9th of December 1365. In that year Pope Urban V. revived -and urged a claim against Edward III. which had been in abeyance for -thirty-three years. This was the demand that Edward should pay the -feudal tribute or annual fee which for the crown of England he owed to -Urban the Fifth of that name, exercising the functions of Bishop of -Rome in the place of the papal captivity at Avignon. The Servant of -servants at Avignon—moved by that necessity which knows no law, or by -an equally lawless covetousness and ambition—demanded of Edward III. -of England payment of the feudal tribute-money alleged to be due by -that monarch to the Holy See. The demand of the Pope was for payment -of the sum of a thousand marks annually due, and for payment of the -arrears that had accumulated for thirty-three years, or since Edward, -ceasing to be a minor, had exercised his sovereign rights as monarch -of England. This papal claim was accompanied with an intimation to -the King of England that, in case of his failing to comply with the -pontifical demand, he should appear to answer for his non-fulfilment of -this duty in the presence of his feudal lord and sovereign, the Pope -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> -of Rome, at Avignon. It is difficult to say whether the arrogance or -the folly of Pope Urban V., in reviving and urging this claim at this -time was the greater of the two. Edward III., even in his decrepitude, -and in the midst of the reverses which marked his declining years, was -not likely to crouch, like John, under the ignominious burden laid -on him in the time of his adversity by the Papacy. The Pope’s claim -proved the occasion of uniting the King and the nation in a common -assertion and vindication of the national independence, and of the -inalienable rights and prerogatives of the English Crown. It was the -occasion of Wycliffe’s first public appearance as the champion of -the royal supremacy and national independence against the usurpation -and arrogance of the Court of Rome. The papal claim was submitted by -Edward to the Parliament which met at Westminster in May 1366. After -deliberation, the answer of the Parliament—the Lords and Commons of -England—to the demand of the Pope, concluded with these weighty and -well-measured words:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> -“Forasmuch as neither King John nor any other king -could bring this realm and kingdom in such thraldom -and subjection but by common consent of Parliament, -the which was not done; therefore, that which he did -was against his oath at his coronation, besides many -other causes. If, therefore, the Pope should attempt -anything against the King, by process or other -matters in deed, the King, with all his subjects, -should with all their force and power resist the -same.”<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p> - -<p>At the time when this resolution was come to, Wycliffe was Warden -of Canterbury Hall. At this time, also, he stood in some very -special relation to the King, as the King’s private secretary or -chaplain—“Peculiaris Regis Clericus.” And his argument—“Determinatio -de Dominio”—in vindication of the Crown and the national independence, -consists mainly of a statement skilfully compiled by him out of what, -according to the report which he had heard, had been spoken by the -secular lords in a certain meeting of council—“Quam audivi in quodam -consilio a Dominis secularibus esse datam.” Soon after the decision -of Parliament to repudiate the Pope’s claim, a monastic and anonymous -doctor, writing in support of the papal demand, challenged Wycliffe -by name—singling him out from all others—to refute, if he could, -the argument urged by him on the part of the Pope; and to vindicate, -if he could, the action of the English Parliament in refusing to pay -the feudal tribute demanded by Urban the Fifth. Wycliffe showed no -hesitation in accepting the challenge of this anonymous doctor. And it -must be confessed that he conducts his argument with consummate skill, -moderation, and ability. His challenger had laid down the position that -“every dominion granted on condition, comes to an end on the failure of -that condition. But our lord the Pope gifted our king with the kingdom -of England, on condition that England should pay so much annually to -the Roman See. Now this condition in process of time has not been -fulfilled, and the King, in consequence, has lost long ago all rightful -dominion in England.” Wycliffe’s answer is, briefly, that England’s -monarch is King of England, and has dominion there, not by the grace of -the Pope, but by the grace of God. Two other positions were maintained -by this polemical monk—namely, that the “civil power may not under -any circumstances deprive ecclesiastics of their lands, goods or -revenues; and that in no case can it be lawful for an ecclesiastic to -be compelled to appear before a secular judge.” Against these claims -of exemption and immunity, Wycliffe urges with irresistible force the -argument, that as the King is under God supreme in his kingdom, all -causes, whether relating to persons or to property, must be under his -dominion, and subject to his jurisdiction. Wycliffe, in beginning -his reply, says: “Inasmuch as I am the King’s own clerk, I the more -willingly undertake the office of defending and counselling <i>that the -King exercises his just rule in the realm of England when he refuses to -pay tribute to the Roman Pontiff</i>.” Wycliffe constructs his argument -out of what, as reported to him, had been spoken at a conference or -council of the barons or the lords temporal of the realm. It is not -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> -Wycliffe but the noblemen of England who refute the monk and repudiate -the Pope’s illegitimate and arrogant demand. An abstract of the -speeches of seven of the barons met in council is so given as to be an -exhaustive and unanswerable argument against the papal claims, “Our -ancestors,” said the first lord, “won this realm, and held it against -all foes by the sword. Julius Cæsar exacted tribute by force; but force -gives no perpetual right. Let the Pope come and take it by force; I -am ready to stand up and resist him.” The second lord thus reasoned: -“The Pope is incapable of such feudal supremacy. He should follow the -example of Christ, who refused all civil dominion; the foxes have -holes, and the birds of the air their nests, but He had not where to -lay His head. Let us rigidly hold the Pope to his spiritual duties, -boldly oppose all his claims to civil power.” In support of this the -third lord said: “The Pope calls himself the Servant of the servants of -the Most High: his only claim to tribute from this realm is for some -service done; but what is his service to this realm? Not spiritual -edification, but draining away money to enrich himself and his Court, -showing favor and counsel to our enemies.” To this the fourth lord -added: “The Pope claims to be the suzerain of all estates held by the -Church; these estates, held on mortmain, amount to one-third of the -realm. There cannot be two suzerains; the Pope, therefore, for these -estates is the King’s vassal; he has not done homage for them; he may -have incurred forfeiture.” The fifth argument is more subtle: “If the -Pope demands this money as the price of King John’s absolution, it is -flagrant simony; it is an irreligious act to say, ‘I will absolve you -on payment of a certain annual tribute.’ But the King pays not this -tax; it is wrung from the poor of the realm: to exact it is an act of -avarice rather than salutary punishment. If the Pope be lord of the -realm, he may at any time declare it forfeited, and grant away the -forfeiture.” Following up this view of the case, the sixth lord says: -“If the realm be the Pope’s, what right had he to alienate it? He has -fraudulently sold it for a fifth part of its value. Moreover, Christ -alone is the suzerain; the Pope being fallible, yea, peccable, may be -in mortal sin. <i>It is better as of old to hold the realm immediately of -Christ.</i>” The seventh lord concluded the argument by a bold denial of -the right of King John to surrender or give way the sovereignty of the -realm: “He could not grant away the sovereignty of England; the whole -thing—the deed, the seals, the signatures—is an absolute nullity.”<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p> - -<p>It cannot now be known how far Wycliffe’s conduct in connection -with the claim for the payment of the feudal tribute influenced the -papal decision in his appeal; but that decision was given after the -publication of Wycliffe’s treatise, “De Dominio.” And there can be no -doubt that from May 1366, Wycliffe was marked at Avignon as a dangerous -man. To be nearer to Oxford he exchanged, in 1368, the rectory of -Fylingham for that of Ludgershall in Buckinghamshire, and he became -Doctor in Divinity about the year 1370. The ability, prudence, and -courage with which Wycliffe had vindicated the action of the Parliament -and of the Crown against the papal claim, as asserted and defended -by the anonymous monk, recommended him as singularly qualified to be -one of the Royal Commissioners appointed in 1374 to meet with the -papal Nuncios at Bruges, to negotiate a settlement of the questions in -dispute between England and the Papacy. In this Commission the name -of Wycliffe holds the second place, being inserted immediately after -that of the Bishop of Bangor. The negotiations terminated in a sort of -compromise, according to which it was concluded “that for the future -the Pope should desist from making use of <i>reservations of benefices</i>, -and that the King should no more confer benefices by his writ <i>Quare -impedit</i>.” Although this was but a very partial and unsatisfactory -settlement of the matters in dispute, yet the part taken by Wycliffe in -the negotiations at Bruges appears to have met with the approbation of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> -the King and his advisers. For in November 1375, he was presented by -the King to the prebend of Aust, in the Collegiate Church of Westbury, -in the diocese of Worcester. He had previously, in April 1374, received -from the Crown, in the exercise of the patronage that devolved on it -during the minority of Lord Henry Ferrars, nomination to the rectory of -Lutterworth, and had resigned his charge of Ludgershall.</p> - -<p>In the same year in which the treaty was concluded (1376), a most -elaborate and detailed indictment against the usurpations and exactions -of the Papacy and its minions was submitted to Parliament, and after -being considered, was passed in the form of a petition to the King, -craving that measures of effective redress and remedy should be -taken against the notorious and intolerable evils complained of. The -Parliament which presented this complaint and petition to the King so -commended itself to the people of England that it received the singular -designation of “The Good Parliament.” Although the royal answer to -the petition was far from being satisfactory or encouraging, yet the -Parliament that met in January 1377 presented another petition to the -King, craving that the statutes against <i>Provisions</i> passed at former -times should be put into effective operation, and that measures should -be taken against certain cardinals who had violated those statutes, -and against those who in England collected the papal revenues, and by -so doing oppressed and impoverished the English people. So vividly do -the propositions of these two Parliaments express and represent the -ideas and opinions of Wycliffe, that Dr. Lechler concludes that he was -a member of both of these Parliaments. But there is no necessity for -this inferential assumption. Wycliffe’s doctrines respecting the kingly -sovereignty and national independence, and his sentiments regarding -the intolerable abuses of the papal officials, were by this time the -doctrines and the sentiments of not a few among the lords and commons -of England. And without being himself a member of Parliament, Wycliffe -had ample opportunity and means for using his influence to stimulate, -direct, and guide those who in the National Assembly gave voice to the -complaint and claim of the English people as against the usurpation -and exactions of the Papacy. To this sort of influence on the part of -Wycliffe, as also to the weight attached to his judgment in a case -involving a knowledge of canon and civil law, significant testimony -was borne by the action of the first Parliament of Richard II., which -met at Westminster on the 13th of October 1377. By this Parliament the -question was referred to the judgment of Dr. Wycliffe, “Whether the -kingdom of England, on an imminent necessity of its own defence may -lawfully detain the treasure of the kingdom, that it be not carried -out of the land, although the lord Pope required its being carried -out on the pain of censures, and by virtue of the obedience due to -him?” As might be expected, Wycliffe answered that it was lawful, and -demonstrated this by the law of Christ, urging at the same time the -common maxim of divines, that alms are not required to be given but to -those who are in need, and by those who have more than they need. “By -which,” says Lewis, “it appears that Dr. Wycliffe’s opinion was, that -Peter-pence paid to the Pope were not a <i>just due</i>, but only an <i>alms</i>, -or charitable gift”<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p> - -<p>The action of the English Parliament referring this question to the -judgment of Wycliffe, is all the more interesting and significant -if respect be had to the time and circumstances in which Wycliffe’s -opinion was required by Parliament. It was not only after the death -of Edward III., which occurred on the 21st of June 1377, but also -after the almost tragical though picturesque incident in Wycliffe’s -life, when, accompanied and protected by the Duke of Lancaster and -Lord Henry Percy, he appeared in the Ladye Chapel of St. Paul’s -Cathedral on the 19th of February in the same year, to answer for -himself and his doctrines before a convention of ecclesiastics, -presided over by Simon Sudbury, Archbishop of Canterbury, assisted by -Courtenay, the Bishop of London. It was, also, after no fewer than -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> -five papal bulls, dated at Rome on the 22d of May, had been sent forth -against Wycliffe. These things give great significancy to the action -of Richard II.‘s first Parliament, when for its guidance it desired to -have the opinion of Wycliffe respecting the lawfulness of refusing to -comply with certain papal exactions.</p> - -<p>The position and influence of Wycliffe, his standing in the University -and among the representatives and leaders of the people, may be judged -of by the elaborate and complicated measures taken against him. One -of the Pope‘s missives was addressed to the King, another to the -University of Oxford and no fewer than three to the Archbishop of -Canterbury and the Bishop of London. These documents were accompanied -by a schedule or syllabus of nineteen articles which had been reported -to the Pontiff, “erroneous, false, contrary to the faith, and -threatening to subvert and weaken the estate of the whole Church,” said -to be held and taught by Wycliffe. Acting on these instructions, and -proceeding in the business with the greatest wariness, the Archbishop -summoned Wycliffe to appear before a synod to be held in the chapel -at Lambeth early in the year 1378.<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> -On this occasion the Duke of Lancaster and Lord Percy were not with -him to protect him, but he received effective though tumultuous and -boisterous help from the citizens, who might be heard by the bishops -shouting such sentences as, “The Pope‘s briefs ought to have no effect -in the realm without the King‘s consent;” “Every man is master in -his own house.” But even more effective help than that of the angry -citizens was at hand. “In comes a gentleman and courtier, one Lewis -Clifford, on the very day of examination, commanding them not to -proceed to any definitive sentence against the said Wycliffe.” “Never -before were the bishops served with such a <i>prohibition</i>; all agreed -the messenger durst not be so stout with such a <i>mandamus</i> in his -mouth, but because backed with the power of the prince that employed -him. The bishops, struck with a panic-fear, proceeded no further”<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a>— -or as a contemporary historian (Walsingham) says: “Their speech became -soft as oil; and with such fear were they struck, that they seemed to -be as a man that heareth not, and in whose mouth are no reproofs.” -Wycliffe passed as safely out of Lambert Chapel as on a former occasion -he had passed out of the Ladye Chapel of St. Paul‘s. Not long after -the sudden conclusion of this Lambeth synod, intimation of the Pope‘s -death, on the 27th March 1378, was received in England. This so -arrested the process against Wycliffe, that no further action was taken -under the five elaborate bulls of Pope Gregory XI. A new chapter in -the life and work of Wycliffe begins with the great papal schism of 1378.</p> - -<p>Till recently it was supposed that Wycliffe had early assumed the -attitude towards the friars which had been taken by Richard Fitzralph, -who, after he had been Chancellor of Oxford in 1333, and Archbishop of -Armagh in 1347, died at Avignon in 1359. This supposition now appears -to be historically without ground; and Dr. Lechler‘s researches tend -to show that Wycliffe‘s controversy with the friars belonged not to -the earlier but to the later period of his life. This view agrees with -all that we know of the method according to which Wycliffe conducted -and developed his great argument against the Papacy. Wycliffe‘s study -of the papal claims, pretensions, usurpations, and exactions, led him -to investigate the grounds and foundations not only of the political, -but also of the ecclesiastical and spiritual, power and authority of -the Popedom. In his reply in 1366 to the anonymous monk champion of the -Papacy, he had represented or reported, with manifest approbation, the -statement of one of the secular lords, declaring that the Pope was a -man and peccable (<i>peccabilis</i>), and that he might be in mortal sin, -and liable to what that involves. After he had taken his degree of -Doctor in Divinity in 1370 or 1371, he expounded and vindicated from -the Scriptures the doctrines which, by his long study of the Divine -Word, he had been led to receive as articles of faith founded on the -written Word of God. These views, derived directly and immediately from -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> -Holy Scripture, he illustrated by quotations from the early -fathers—more particularly from the writings of Ambrose, Jerome, -Augustine, and Gregory, the four fathers of the Latin Church. From the -time when he became Doctor in Divinity, “he began,” says a contemporary -opponent, “to scatter forth his blasphemies.” And as we know, it was -after his return from Bruges in 1376 that he began to speak of the -Pope not merely as peccable—fallible, and liable to sin—but as -“Antichrist, the proud, worldly priest of Rome.”</p> - -<p class="space-below3">It has been said that the language of Wycliffe in his -tract entitled “De Papa Romana et Schisma Papae” was too strong, too vehement -and sweeping; and that his work was, in tendency and effect, destructive -rather than constructive. So far is it from being true that his -language is that of passion, or of vehemence proceeding from passion, -that, on the contrary, it is the language of a reflective, circumspect, -and keen-eyed observer of the evils and abuses of the papal system, -which he contrasted with the primitive and apostolic model of the -Church. When compared with the language of some other assailants -of the Papacy, Wycliffe‘s fiercest invectives are but the calm, -measured, and temperate declaration of truth and reality, spoken by -one who so loved the truth, and was so earnest in his endeavors for -the reformation of the Church and the morals of the clergy, that he -avowed himself willing, if need be, to lay down his life, if by so -doing he could promote the attainment of this end. If the portraiture -of the Papacy and of the papal dignitaries, officials, and underlings, -given by Petrarch, in his “Letters to a Father,” be compared with the -statements of Wycliffe, we shall be constrained to say that the Oxford -professor uses the language of reserve characteristic of the well-bred -and well-disciplined Englishman who means to give practical effect -to his words, as distinguished from the language used by Petrarch, -who neither intended, nor had the courage, to add deeds to his words. -Historically, Wycliffe‘s work appears to have been more destructive -than constructive. But this was not because Wycliffe set himself to -root out, to pull down, and to destroy, without, at the same time -setting himself to build and to plant. The reason why Wycliffe‘s work -appears historically defective or incomplete as a constructive work -is that, by the malice, ingenuity, and power of his adversaries, -his work in planting and in building—that is to say, his work as -constructive—was to the utmost impeded, pulled down, or rooted up. -“And,” says Milton, “had it not been the obstinate perverseness of -our prelates against the divine and admirable spirit of Wycliffe, -to suppress him as a schismatic and innovator, perhaps neither the -Bohemian Huss and Jerome, no, nor the name of Luther or of Calvin, had -been ever known; the glory of reforming all our neighbors had been -completely ours.”<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p> - -<p>The last six years of Wycliffe‘s life—1378-1384—were packed -full with work. For in these years, besides developing and expounding his -ideas of the Church, the Papacy, and the hierarchy, and prosecuting -his controversy with the mendicant friars, he trained and sent forth -evangelists, “poor priests” to preach the Gospel in all places of the -land; he expounded and taught the doctrine of Scripture concerning -the Eucharist or the “real presence” in relation to the bread and -the wine in the sacrament of the Lord‘s Supper; he professed and -taught theology in Oxford; he preached and discharged the duties of -an evangelical pastor in Lutterworth; and with the assistance of a -few fellow-laborers, who entered into his purpose and shared with him -in the desire for the evangelisation of the people of England, he -translated the Scriptures out of the Latin Vulgate into the English -tongue. “His life,” and more especially this part of it, “shows that -his religious views were progressive. His ideal was the restoration -of the pure moral and religious supremacy to religion. This was -the secret, the vital principle, of his anti-sacerdotalism; of his -pertinacious enmity to the whole hierarchical system of his day.”<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> -Hence as his views of truth became deeper, wider, and more fixed, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> -instead of attacking Popes and prelates, he assailed the Papacy and -the hierarchy; and instead of attacking friars, he attacked mendicancy -itself—denouncing it in common with the Papacy as contrary to -the doctrines of the Word of God, and inconsistent with the order -instituted by Christ within the Church, which is the house of God,—the -pillar and ground of the truth.</p> - -<p>When Wycliffe appeared to answer for himself before the Pope‘s -delegates at Lambeth, in 1378, he is said to have presented a written -statement explanatory of the articles charged against him. The first -sentence of that documentary confession is: “First of all, I publicly -protest, as I have often done at other times, that I will and purpose -from the bottom of my heart, by the grace of God, to be a sincere -Christian, and, as long as I have breath, to profess and defend the law -of Christ so far as I am able.”<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></p> - -<p>A document of a somewhat similar kind, called by Wycliffe “A Sort of -Answer to the Bull sent to the University,” was presented by him to Parliament.</p> - -<p>It is as a true and sincere Christian, and as a faithful and laborious -Christian pastor and evangelist, that Wycliffe appears before us in the -closing period of his truly heroic life. The written word of God is now -to him the supreme, perfect and sufficient rule of faith and morals: -it is what, in his protestation, he calls “the law of Christ.” The -watchword of his life—the standard test, rule, directory, and measure -of faith and duty—is the Word of God written. His appeal is, first and -last, to that Word—“To the law and to the testimony; if men speak not -according to that Word, there is no light in them;” they are but blind -guides of the blind. He had evidently made progress in his study of the -writings of Augustine, and had so profited by the study that he is bold -to say that “The dictum of Augustine is not infallible, seeing that -Augustine himself was liable to err”—“Locus a testimonio Augustini non -est infallibilis, cum Augustinus sit errabilis.” The Bible is a charter -written by God; it is God‘s gift to us: “Carta a Deo scripta et -nobis donata per quam vindicabimus regnum Dei.” This is what a -pre-eminently illustrious poet denotes by the words—“Thy gift, Thy -tables.” “The law of Christ is the <i>medulla</i> of the laws of the -Church.” “Every useful law of holy mother Church is taught, either -explicitly or implicitly, in Scripture.” It is impossible that the -dictum or deed of any Christian should become, or be held to be, of -authority equal to Scripture. He is a <i>mixtim theologus</i>—a motley or -medley theologian—who adds traditions to the written Word. He is -<i>theologus purus</i> who adheres to the Scripture. “Spiritual rulers -are bound to use the sincere Word of God, without any admixture in -their rule or administration. To be ignorant of the Scriptures is to -be ignorant of Christ.” “The whole of Scripture is one word of God.” -“The whole of the law of Christ is one perfect word proceeding from -the mouth of God.” “It is impious to mutilate or pervert Scripture, -or to wrest from it a perverse meaning.” The true preachers are <i>Viri -evangelici</i>, <i>Doctores evangelici</i>. Ignorance of Holy Scripture, or -the absence of faith in the written Word of God, is, he says, “beyond -doubt, the chief cause of the existing state of things.” Therefore -it was his great business, in life or by death, to make known to -his fellow-countrymen the will of God revealed in the Scriptures of -Truth. The highest service to which man may attain on earth is to -preach the law of God. This is the special duty of the priests, in -order that they may produce children of God—this being the end for -which Christ espoused to Himself the Church.”</p> - -<p>Next to the exclusive supremacy of Scripture, the truth which is set -forth with perhaps the most marked prominency in the teaching of -Wycliffe, is the truth concerning the Lord Jesus Christ as the one -Mediator between God and man. Christ is not only revealed in the Word; -he is Himself the Mediating Word—the way, and the truth, and the life. -And what Wycliffe says of the Apostle Paul, that he lifts the banner of -his Captain, in that he glories only in the cross of Christ, admits, as -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> -Dr. Lechler remarks, of being justly applied to Wycliffe himself; -for his text is the evangel, and his theme is Christ. Like Luther -afterwards, Wycliffe lived through the truth which he proclaimed. -In his case the order was, first the Word, then Christ. In Luther‘s -it was, first the Word, then justification by faith. The German‘s -experience implied the logical order of the Englishman‘s experience. -For the logic of this faith is the Word of grace, the Christ of grace, -the righteousness of grace. Luther‘s work implies, develops, and -completes the work of Wycliffe, so that it holds true that the one -without the other is not made perfect.</p> - -<p>In the year 1380, after recovery from a severe illness, Wycliffe -published a tract in which he formulated his charges against the -friars under fifty distinct heads, accusing them of fifty heresies; -and many more, as he said, if their tenets and practices be searched -out. “Friars,” says he, towards the conclusion of this tract, “are the -cause, beginning, and maintaining of perturbation in Christendom, and -of all the evils of this world; nor shall these errors be removed until -friars be brought to the freedom of the Gospel and the clean religion -of Jesus Christ.”</p> - -<p>Wycliffe did not indulge in mere denunciation. His invectives were -with a view to the work of reformation. Accordingly, at the time when -he published the fifty charges against the friars he was actively -training, organising, and sending out agents—“poor priests” to -instruct the people in the knowledge of the Gospel, and by so doing -undo the works of the friars, and promote evangelical religion and -social virtue. At first these itinerant preachers were employed in -some places, as in the immense diocese of Lincoln, under episcopal -sanction.<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> - But so effectively and extensively did they propagate -the evangelical doctrines of Wycliffe, that in Archbishop Courtenay‘s -mandate to the Bishop of London in 1382, they are denounced as -“unauthorised itinerant preachers, who set forth erroneous, yea, -heretical, assertions in public sermons, not only in churches, but also -in public squares, and other profane places; and who do this under -the guise of great holiness, but without having obtained any -episcopal or papal authorisation.” It was against Wycliffe‘s -“poor priests” or itinerant preachers that the first royal -proclamation in 1382 (statute it cannot be called), at the instance -of Courtenay, for the punishment of heresy in England, was issued. -The unprecedented measures taken against the “poor priests” bear -most significant testimony to the effect produced by their teachings -throughout the kingdom. It would be interesting to know how far, -if at all, Wesley‘s idea of itinerant preachers was founded on, or -proceeded from, the idea and the experiment of Wycliffe. At any rate, -these poor priests were not organised, nor was their action modelled, -according to any of the guilds, fraternities, or orders that had been -formed or that had been in operation before the time of Wycliffe. The -idea was truly original, and “the simplicity of the institution was -itself a stroke of consummate genius.”<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p> - -<p>Having acted out his own principles that the student who would attain -to the knowledge of the meaning of Scripture must cultivate humility -of disposition and holiness of life, putting away from him all -prejudicate opinions, and all merely curious and speculative theories -and casuistical principles of interpretation, Wycliffe opened and -studied the Bible with the desire simply to know and to do the will of -God. It is no wonder if, with these sentiments, Wycliffe in his later -years, when engaged continually in reading, studying, expounding, and -translating the Scriptures, should come to perceive the contrariety of -the papal or mediæval doctrine concerning the Eucharist to the doctrine -of Scripture.</p> - -<p>Wycliffe‘s views respecting transubstantiation having undergone -a great change between the years 1378 and 1381, he felt bound in -conscience to make known what he now came to believe to be the -true doctrine concerning the Eucharist. For, as he says in the -“Trialogus,” “I maintain that among all the heresies which have ever -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> -appeared in the Church, there was never one which was more cunningly -smuggled in by hypocrites than this, or which in more ways deceives -the people; for it plunders the people, leads them astray into -idolatry, denies the teaching of Scripture, and by this unbelief -provokes the Truth Himself often-times to anger.”<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> -In accordance with all this, Wycliffe in the spring of 1381 published -twelve short theses or conclusions respecting the Eucharist and against -transubstantiation.”<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></p> - -<p>All Oxford was moved by these conclusions. By the unanimous judgment of -a court called and presided over by William de Bertram, the Chancellor, -they were declared to be contradictory to the orthodox doctrine of -the Church, and as such were prohibited from being set forth and -defended in the university, on pain of suspension from every function -of teaching, of the greater excommunication, and of imprisonment. By -the same mandate all members of the university were prohibited, on pain -of the greater excommunication, from being present at the delivery -of these theses in the university. When this mandate was served on -Wycliffe, he was in the act of expounding the doctrine of Scripture -concerning the Lord‘s Supper. The condemnation of his doctrine came -upon him as a surprise; but he is reported to have said that neither -the Chancellor nor any of his assessors could refute his arguments or -alter his convictions. Subsequently he appealed from the Chancellor to -the King. In the meantime, finding himself “tongue-tied by authority,” -he wrote a treatise on this subject in Latin,<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> -and also a tract in English entitled “The Wicket,” for the use of the people. -Wycliffe‘s doctrinal system may be said to have attained to its completeness -when, rejecting the idea of transubstantiation, he accepted those simple -and Scriptural views of the Eucharist which, apart from papalism or -medievalism, have in all ages prevailed within the Catholic Church— -that is, within the society or congregation of believers in Christ, -irrespectively of name, place, time, ceremony, or circumstance. While -this is so, “it is impossible,” as Dr. Lechler truly says, “not to be -impressed with the intellectual labor, the conscientiousness, and the -force of will, all equally extraordinary, which Wycliffe applied to the -solution of this problem. His attack on the dogma of transubstantiation -was so concentrated, and delivered (with so much force and skill) from -so many sides, that the scholastic conception was shaken to its very -foundations.”<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> -He anticipated in his argument against the medieval dogma, and in favor -of the primitive and catholic faith concerning the Eucharist, the views -of the greatest and best of the Reformers, leaving to them little more -to do than to gather up, expound, develop, and apply his principles.</p> - -<p>Soon after the proceedings which we have noted were taken against -Wycliffe, the country was threatened with anarchy by what is known as -the Wat Tyler and Jack Straw insurrection. It is enough to say that -Wycliffe had nothing whatever to do with the exciting of that reckless -uprising. All his studies, meditations, and labors were designed to -promote righteousness and peace, truth and goodwill, order and liberty, -in England and all over the earth.</p> - -<p>In the tract, “A Short Rule of Life, for each man in general, for -priests and lords and laborers in special, How each shall be saved in -his degree,” addressing the “laborer,” he says:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> -“If thou art a <i>laborer</i>, live in meekness, and -truly and willingly, so thy lord or thy master, if he -be a heathen man, by thy meekness, willing and true -service, may not have to grudge against thee, nor -slander thy God, nor thy Christian profession, but -rather be stirred to come to Christianity, and serve -not Christian lords with grudgings, not only in their -presence, but truly and willingly, and in absence; -not only for worldly dread, or worldly reward, but -for dread of conscience, and for reward in heaven. -For God that putteth thee in such service knoweth -what state is best for thee, and will reward thee -more than all earthly lords may if thou dost it truly -and willingly for His ordinance. And in all things -beware of grudging against God and His visitation in -great labor, in long or great sickness, and other -adversities. And beware of wrath, of cursing, of -speaking evil, of banning man or beast, and ever keep -patience, meekness, and charity, both to God and man.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> -As we cannot afford space to give what is said to “lords,” whom he counsels to</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> -“live a rightful life in their own persons, both in -respect to God and man, keeping the commandments of -God, doing the works of mercy, ruling well their -five senses, and doing reason, and equity, and good -conscience to all men,”—</p> - -<p class="no-indent">we merely give here his concluding words:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> -“And thus each man in the three states ought to life, -to save himself, and to help others; and thus should -life, rest, peace, and love, be among Christian men, -and they be saved, and heathen men soon converted, -and God magnified greatly in all nations and sects -that now despise Him and His law, because of the -false living of wicked Christian men.”</p> - -<p class="no-indent">These are not the sentiments or utterances of a man in fellowship -with John Ball, Wat Tyler, Jack Straw, or any other such demagogues, rebels, -or sowers of sedition.</p> - -<p>The truth, as stated by Milman,<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> is, that this spasm or “outburst” -of “thralled discontent” was but a violent symptom of the evils -which it was the aim and design of Wycliffe to uproot and remove, by -disseminating and inculcating everywhere the principles and precepts -of the Gospel. Writing in defence of the “poor priests” or evangelists -whom he had trained and sent out, Wycliffe says:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> -“These poor priests destroien most, by God‘s -law, rebelty of servants agenst lords, and charge -servants to be sujet, though lords be tyrants. For -St Peter teacheth us, Be ye servants suget to lords -in all manner of dread, not only to good lords, and -bonoure, but also to tyrants, or such as drawen from -God’s school. For, as St. Paul sieth, each man oweth -to be suget to higher potestates, that is, to men of -high power, for there is no power but of God, and -so he that agen stondeth power, stondeth agenst the -ordinance of God, but they that agenstond engetten -to themselves damnation. And therefore Paul biddeth -that we be suget to princes by need, and not only -for wrath but also for conscience, and therefore we -paien tributes to princes, for they ben ministers of -God.” But “some men that ben out of charity slandren -‘poor priests’ with this error, that servants or -tenants may lawfully withhold rent and service fro -their lords, when lords be openly wicked in their -living;” and “they maken these false lesings upon -‘poor priests’ to make lords to hate them, and not to -meyntane truth of God’s law that they teachen openly -for worship of God, and profit of the realm, and -stabling the King’s power in destroying of sin.”<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></p> - -<p class="space-above3">Among the victims of the rage of the rabble in the -Wat Tyler insurrection was Simon Sudbury, the Archbishop of Canterbury. “He -was,” says Godwin, “a man admirably wise and well spoken.” But “though -he were very wise, learned, eloquent, liberal, merciful and for his -age and place reverend, yet might it not deliver him from the rage -of this beast with many heads—the multitude—than which being, once -incensed, there is no brute beast more cruel, more outrageous, more -unreasonable.”<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a></p> - -<p>William Courtenay, Bishop of London, succeeded Sudbury as Archbishop -of Canterbury. Courtenay, a high-tempered, haughty, and resolute man, -lost no time in bringing the powers of his new and high position to -bear against the doctrines and adherents of Wycliffe. His pall from -Rome having been delivered to him at Croydon on the 6th of May 1382, -he summoned a synod to meet in the Grey Friars (mendicants) in London, -on the 17th of May, to deliberate and determine on the measures to be -taken for the suppression of certain stranger and dangerous opinions -“widely prevalent among the nobility and commons of the realm.” During -the sittings of this synod a great and terrible earthquake shook the -place of meeting and the whole city. Many of the high dignitaries -and learned doctors assembled, interpreting this event as a protest -from heaven against the proceedings of the council, would fain have -adjourned the meeting and its business. But the Archbishop, with ready -wit, interpreting the omen to suit his own purpose, said, “the earth -was throwing off its noxious vapors, that the Church might appear in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> -her perfect purity,” With these words Courtenay allayed the fears of -the more timid members of the synod, and the business went forward. -Of four and twenty articles extracted from Wycliffe’s writings, ten -were condemned as heretical, and the other fourteen were judged -erroneous. It is unnecessary to say that among the articles condemned -as heretical were the doctrines of Wycliffe concerning the Eucharist, -and more particularly his denial of transubstantiation. Among the -condemned tenets there are some which Wycliffe never held or affirmed -in the sense put upon them by the “Earthquake Council.” Some of the -determinations of this synod were so framed as to imply or insinuate -that Wycliffe was implicated in the insurrection of the previous year, -and that he was an enemy to temporal as well as to the ecclesiastical -authority—in other words, that he was a traitor as well as heretic. An -imposing procession, and a sermon by a Carmelite friar, served to give -solemnity and publicity, pomp and circumstance, to the decrees of the synod.</p> - -<p>Dr. Peter Stokes, a Carmelite preacher, furnished with the Archbishop’s -mandate and other artillery, was sent to bombard Oxford or to take it -by storm. But neither the scholars nor the Chancellor (Rigge) were -disposed to surrender the university without a struggle in defence -of its rights and liberties. The reception given to Dr. Stokes was -not at all satisfactory or assuring to the mind of the Archbishop of -Canterbury, who indignantly gave expression to his sorrow and his -anger in the words: “Is, then, the University of Oxford such a fautor -of heresy that Catholic truths cannot be asserted within her walls?” -Assuming to himself the ominous title of “Inquisitor of heretical -pravity within his whole province of Canterbury,” he proceeded to -deal with Oxford as if it were nothing more than one of the outlying -parishes of his episcopal province. The chancellor and several members -of the university were summoned to appear before him and to purge -themselves of the suspicion of heresy. But Chancellors like Rigge, -although courteous, are not readily compliant with what seems to invade -the privileges and prerogatives of their office. If Chancellor Rigge, -after his return to Oxford from London, gave formal effect to the -injunctions of the Archbishop, by intimating to Nicolas Hereford and -Philip Repington that he was under the necessity of suspending them -from all their functions as members of the university, he promptly -resented the insolence of Henry Cromp, who in a public lecture had -applied the epithet “Lollards” to those who maintained the views of -Wycliffe, by suspending him from all university functions.<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> -Against this sentence Cromp sought and found refuge in an appeal to Courtenay -and to the Privy Council. Hereford, Repington, and John Aston were -summoned to appear before the Archbishop. Aston was declared to be -a teacher of heresy, and he afterwards recanted. Repington also -recanted after a time, and was promoted to great honors in the Church. -Hereford, having gone to Rome to plead his case before the Pope, was -there imprisoned; but it would seem that some time afterwards he -managed to escape from prison, for in 1387 he is mentioned as the -leading itinerant preacher of the Lollards. Thus within a few months -after Courtenay entered on the discharge of the functions of his high -office, he had greatly intimidated the adherents and fellow-laborers -of Wycliffe in the university. But opinion rooted in conviction is -not easily suppressed. While the more prominent representatives of -Wycliffe’s adherents were either driven out of the country or coerced -into submission, and to the recantation of opinions which they had held -and taught, Wycliffe himself stood firm and erect amidst the tempest -that raged around. As if in calm defiance of the Archbishop and his -commissaries, he indited a petition to the King and the Parliament, -in which he craves their assent to the main articles contained in his -writings, and proved by authority—the Word of God—and reason to be -the Christian faith; he prays that all persons now bound by vows of -religion may have liberty to accept and follow the more perfect law of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> -Christ; that tithes be bestowed according to their proper use, for the -maintenance of the poor; that Christ’s own doctrine concerning the -Eucharist be publicly taught; that neither the King nor the kingdom -obey any See or prelate further than their obedience be grounded on -Scripture; that no money be sent out of the realm to the Court of Rome -or of Avignon, unless proved by Scripture to be due; that no Cardinal -or foreigner hold preferment in England; that if a bishop or curate -be notoriously guilty of contempt of God, the King should confiscate -his temporalities; that no bishop or curate should be enslaved to -secular office; and that no one should be imprisoned on account of -excommunication.<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></p> - -<p>This is Wycliffe’s petition of right to the King and to the Parliament -of England. We know nothing exactly like this document in the history -of the past five hundred years. In one or two of the claims set forth -in it, the document which bears to it the greatest resemblance is an -anonymous petition addressed to King James in 1609, being “An Humble -Supplication for Toleration and Liberty to enjoy and observe the -Ordinances of Christ Jesus, in the administration of His Churches in -lieu of human Constitutions.” But compared with Wycliffe’s petition, -that other is narrow and restricted in its range. This of Wycliffe is, -like his work, for all time. In it he seems to have gathered up the -principles that governed his life, and to have expressed them so that -this document may be regarded as a summary of principles, a sort of -Enchiridion for the use of the statesmen and people of England.</p> - -<p>It is more than doubtful whether Wycliffe appeared before the -Archbishop at Oxford in 1382; and it is certain that no recantation -ever proceeded from his lips or pen. In the absence of any adequate -reason hitherto assigned for Wycliffe’s immunity or personal safety in -a time so perilous, may the reason have been that, silenced in Oxford -by the decree of the preceding year, Wycliffe left the university, and, -retiring to his rectory of Lutterworth, enjoyed there the protection -of the Bishop of Lincoln, John Bokingham? Within the very extensive -diocese of Lincoln, we know that for a time Wycliffe’s “poor priests” -enjoyed the episcopal protection. Is it too much to suppose that John -Bokingham, who protected and gave episcopal sanction to Wycliffe’s -preachers, extended his protection to Wycliffe himself? This “John -Bokingham if this were the Bishop of Lincoln accounted of some very -unlearned, was a doctor of divinity of Oxford, a great learned man in -scholastical divinity, as divers works of his still extant may testify, -and for my part, I think this bishop to be the man. The year 1397, the -Pope bearing him some grudge, translated him perforce from Lincolne -unto Lichfield, a bishopric not half so good. For curst heart he would -not take it, but, as though he had rather have no bread than half a -loaf, forsook both, and became a monk at Canterbury. He was one of -the first founders of the bridge at Rochester.”<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> -Our conjecture if probable or true to fact, would explain not a little -that has hitherto perplexed the biographers of Wycliffe.</p> - -<p>But apart from this conjecture and all similar guesses and suggestions, -perhaps the real cause of Wycliffe’s safety was the regard cherished -for him by many of the nobility and leaders of the people, and the -esteem in which he was held by the King’s mother—“the fair maid of -Kent”—whose message, conveyed by Sir Lewis Clifford, brought the -proceedings of the Lambeth Synod to an abrupt termination. Nor must the -protecting influence of Richard’s wife, the Queen—Ann of Bohemia—be -ignored. For in his book “Of the Three-fold Love” Wycliffe says: “It -is possible that the noble Queen of England, the sister of Cæsar, may -have and use the Gospel written in three languages—Bohemian, German, -and Latin. But to hereticate her on that account would be Luciferian -folly.” But after all the circumstances of the case have been -considered, we may say with Fuller: “In my mind it amounted to little -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> -less than a miracle, that during this storm on his disciples, Wycliffe -their master should live in quiet. Strange that he was not drowned -in so strong a stream as ran against him, whose safety under God’s -providence is not so much to be ascribed to his own strength in -swimming as to such as held him up by the chin—the greatness of his -noble supporters.”<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> -It would appear as if King Richard himself must -be reckoned one at least among Wycliffe’s “noble supporters.” This -seems to be implied in what appears to be a reference to himself, -made in one of his last-written treatises, the “Frivolous Citations,” -being the citations addressed by the Popes to those who were offensive -to them. In that remarkable treatise the arguments in favor of papal -citations are shown to be untenable and sophistical, and the assumption -of temporal power by the Pope, as exercised in the citation of those -not subject to his jurisdiction, is shown to be unjustifiable. From all -this the conclusion is, that the Church should return to primitive and -apostolic simplicity—the simplicity of the Gospel of Christ without -the Pope and his statutes. In the fourth chapter he maintains that -three things warrant any one cited to refuse obedience to the citation: -necessary business, illness, and the prohibition of the sovereign -of the realm: “Primum est gravis necessitas, quæ videtur maxima in -custodia Christi ovium, ne a lupis rapacibus lanientur. Secundum est -infirmitas corporis, propter quam deficit citato dispositio data a -domino ad taliter laborandum. Et tertium est preceptio regia, quando -rex precepit, sicut debet, suo legio, ne taliter extra suam provinciam -superflue evagetur. Et omnes istæ tres causæ vel aliqua earum in -qualibet citatione hujusmodi sunt reperte, et specialiter cum rex -regum prohibeat taliter evagari.” All this he applies to his own case, -in language implying that he had been cited to appear to answer for -himself before the Pope: “Et sic dicit, quidam debilis et claudus -citatus ad hanc curiam, quod prohibitio regia impedit ipsum ire, quia, -rex regum necessitat et vult efficaciter, quod non vagat. Dicit etiam -quod domi oportet ipsum eligere Pontificam Iesum Christum, quod est -gravis necessitas eo, quod cum ejus omissione vel negligentia non -potest Romanus Pontifex vel aliquis angelus dispensare.”<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> -The words seem to imply not only that he was cited to appear before the Pope, -but that in declining to obey the papal summons, he could plead bodily -infirmity, the will of the King of kings, and also the prohibition of -the only earthly sovereign to whom he owed a subject’s duty. Shirley, -writing in 1858, says—“From his retreat at Lutterworth they summoned -him before the papal court. The citation did not reach him till -1384.”<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> -If so, then his tract “De Citationibus Frivolis” was one of -the last of the many writings that proceeded from his pen.</p> - -<p>Before we make the briefest possible reference to the last and greatest -work of Wycliffe—his translation of the Bible—we may here allude to -the marvellous productiveness of the mind of this great Englishman of -the fourteenth century. In this respect, as in other characteristics -of his genius, there is only one other name in English literature that -is entitled to take rank and place beside John Wycliffe, and that is -the name of William Shakespeare. Chaucer and Langland and Gower, the -contemporaries of Wycliffe, wrote much, and wrote so as not only to -prove the previously unknown capabilities of the half-formed English -language for giving expression to every variety of poetical conception, -but these illustrious poets also so wrote as to be the forerunners and -the leaders of those who, since the time when the English mind was set -free by the Reformation, have marched, and continue to march, as the -poets of England in splendid equipage in their proud procession through -the ages. But the intellectual and literary productiveness of Chaucer -and Langland and Gower comes far short of the truly extraordinary -productiveness of the genius of Wycliffe. Nothing but ignorance of what -Wycliffe did for the highest forms of thought in the University, for -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> -the dignity and independence of the State, for truth and freedom in -the Church, and for virtue and godliness among the English people, and -through them among all the nations of the world, can account for the -indifference to the name and memory of Wycliffe, which prevails not in -Oxford alone, but throughout the country:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> “To the memory of one of the greatest of -Englishmen, his country has been singularly and painfully ungrateful. -On most of us the dim image looks down, like the portrait of the first -of a long line of kings, without personality or expression. He is the -first of the Reformers. To some he is the watchword of a theological -controversy, invoked most loudly by those whom he would most have -condemned. Of his works, the greatest, ‘one of the most thoughtful of -the middle ages,’ has twice been printed abroad, in England -never.<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> -Of his original English works, nothing beyond one or two tracts has -seen the light. If considered only as the father of English prose, the -great Reformer might claim more reverential treatment at our hands. It -is not by his translation of the Bible, remarkable as that work is, -that Wycliffe can be judged as a writer. It is in his original tracts -that the exquisite pathos, the keen delicate irony, the manly passion -of his short nervous sentences, fairly overmasters the weakness of the -unformed language, and gives us English which cannot be read without a -feeling of its beauty to this hour.”<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></p> - -<p>The mind of Wycliffe was constitutionally of large capacity—strong, -many-sided, intense. The strength and the luminousness of his -understanding, operating through an emotional nature of great -tranquillity and depth, found for themselves unimpeded expression in -the force and energy of a self-determining and resolute will. His -deliberations, not his passions, prompted, directed, and controlled -his actions. Hence the decisiveness of his conclusions; hence also -the heroic pertinacity with which he adhered to his convictions, and, -whether amidst compliments or curses, prosecuted his work. For to him -personally, <i>dominion</i> signified the lordship of the intellect over the -emotions, the sovereignty of conscience over the intellect, and the -monarchy of God over all. The “possessioner” of rich and varied mental -endowments, he put forth all to use. For in all the departments -of learning and science, John Wycliffe was second to none whose -names adorn the annals of Oxford University and are the glory of -England. Wycliffe’s works, when known in Oxford and in this country -will not only vindicate what we have said, but will show that if -his constitutional abilities were singularly great, his industry -was indefatigable, and his studious course splendidly progressive. -“Proscribed and neglected as he afterwards became, there was a time -when Wycliffe was the most popular writer in Europe.”<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> -Contact with his mind through his works, seems to have had a -remarkably infectious influence on the men of his time and on the -following generation. Hence the unexampled measures taken not by -William Courtenay alone, but by successive Popes and by the Council of -Constance (1415), to suppress the heresies of Wycliffe. This influence -of contact with his spirit in his writings, shows itself very notably -in the case of the able and critical historian, Milman. Milman’s own -mind was of great capacity and force. But the vigor and enthusiasm of -that mind seem to reveal themselves more in the chapter on Wycliffe -than in any other section of his great work. There is an unusual -glow—one might say fervor—as of sympathetic appreciation, -in the greater part of that chapter.<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a></p> - -<p>Shirley’s statement that “Wycliffe is a very voluminous, a proscribed, -and a neglected writer,” is verified by the catalogue which Shirley -himself, at the cost of considerable labor scattered over a period of -some ten or twelve years, compiled, and published in 1865. By compiling -and publishing this catalogue, Professor Shirley rendered great service -not only to the memory of Wycliffe but also to English literature. -Bale, Bishop of Ossory (1563), the author of many most valuable but now -little appreciated, because little known, works, in his “Summarium,”<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> -first published in 1547, gives a list of 242 of Wycliffe’s writings, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> -with their titles. Lewis, in 1820, by some modifications and additions -of Bale’s list, extends the number to 284. A catalogue was also -prefixed by Baber to his reprint of Wycliffe’s New Testament (Purvey’s -amended edition) in 1810. And Dr. Vaughan (who has got but scrimp -justice at the hands of some), in his “Life and Opinions of Wycliffe,” -1828 and 1831, and in his “John de Wycliffe: a Monograph,” 1853, gave -catalogues which had the effect of setting a few others to work in -the endeavor to determine with certainty the number of the genuine -writings left by Wycliffe. This work was undertaken and prosecuted -with no little labor and critical ability by Professor Shirley; but -death at an early time arrested the progress of the work which he had -projected—the editing and publishing of “Select Works of Wycliffe.” -Men die, but the work dies not. To the third volume of “Select English -Works of John Wycliffe,” 1871, edited by Thomas Arnold, there is -prefixed a “List of MSS. of the Miscellaneous Works,” and a “Complete -Catalogue of the English Works ascribed to Wycliffe, based on that -prepared by Dr. Shirley, but including a detailed comparison with -the list of Bale and Lewis”<a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> -Of Dr. Lechler’s services in this as in every other respect we do -not speak: they are inestimable. The example set by him, and by -Dr. Buddensieg of Dresden, and Dr. Loserth of Czernowitz, ought to -stimulate Englishmen, and more especially the graduates, fellows, -and doctors of Oxford, to vindicate the University against the -charge so justly and repeatedly made against it, of having treated -with indifference and neglect the name and memory of one of her most -illustrious sons. It is anything but creditable to Oxford that German -scholars and princes should do the work which ought to be done by -Englishmen—and of all Englishmen by the men of Oxford. Do these -learned men know that in English literature there is a short treatise -bearing the title “The Dead Man’s Right?”<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> -It is time that they should study it, and give to it such effect as -only the men of Oxford can give, in relation to the memory of the man -who asserted and maintained, in perilous and most hazardous times, the -rights of Oxford University against those who would reduce that noble -institution, that renowned seat of learning, to the level of one of -the outhouses of the Vatican Palace or of the Pope’s privy chamber, at -Avignon or at Rome.</p> - -<p>From the lists or catalogues of Wycliffe’s works, it is evident that -his writing was like his mind—steadily, splendidly progressive. To -the earlier period of his life belong the works on logic, psychology, -metaphysics, and generally what may be called his philosophical -writings. To the second period of his life belong his applied -philosophy in the form of his treatises on politico-ecclesiastical -questions. To the third period belong his works on scientific theology; -and to the fourth and concluding period belong his works on applied -theology, or practical and pastoral divinity.</p> - -<p>“The earliest work to which, so far as I know, a tolerably exact date -can be assigned, is the fragment “De dominio,” printed by Lewis, and -which belongs to the year 1366 or 1367. We may confidently place the -whole of the philosophical works, properly so called, before this date. -About the year 1367 was published the “De Dominio Divino,” preluding to -the great “Summa Theologiæ,”—the first book of which, “De Mandatis,” -appears to have been written in 1369; the seventh, the “De Ecclesia,” -in 1378; the remainder at uncertain intervals during the next five -years. The “Trialogus” and its supplement belong probably to the last -year of the Reformer’s life.”<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a></p> - -<p>In a letter of Archbishop Arundel, addressed to Pope John XXIII. in -1412, it is said of Wycliffe that, “In order to fulfil the measure of -his wickedness, he <i>invented</i> the translation of the Bible into the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> -mother tongue.” Of this, the great and crowning work of Wycliffe’s -life, Knighton says:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> “Christ delivered his Gospel to the clergy and -doctors of the Church, but this Master John Wycliffe translated it out -of Latin into English, and thus laid it out more open to the laity, and -to women who could read, than it had formerly been to the most learned -of the clergy, even to those of them that had the best understanding. -In this way the Gospel-pearl is cast abroad, and trodden under foot of -swine, and that which was before precious both to clergy and laity, -is rendered, as it were, to the common jest of both. The jewel of the -Church is turned into the sport of the people, and what had hitherto -been the choice gift of the clergy and of divines, is made for ever -common to the laity.”<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></p> - -<p>It was for this very end that the “Word of God written” might be -forever common to the people, as accessible to them as to the most -privileged orders, that Wycliffe seems at an early time in his life to -have entertained the great idea and formed the purpose of giving to his -countrymen a version of Holy Scripture in the English language. For, -although we cannot here enter into details, it would appear from the -careful, learned, and elaborate preface to the magnificent edition of -Wycliffe’s Bible by Forshall and Madden,<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> -that the progressiveness characteristic of Wycliffe’s views and work -was apparent in the translation of the Bible. With all deference to -the opinions of those who believe that man’s works spring full-formed -from the human brain, like Minerva from the head of Jupiter, there -is reason for believing that so early as 1356, or about that time, -Wycliffe began his work of translating the Scriptures, and that, -with many interruptions or intermissions, he continued to prosecute -his great enterprise till he had the joyful satisfaction of seeing -the translation of the New Testament completed in 1380. The idea had -grown in his mind, and the work grew under his hand. He could now -put a copy of the Evangel into the hands of each evangelist whom he -sent forth. Up to this time he could but furnish his poor preachers -with short treatises and detached portions of Scripture. But now he -could give them the whole of the New Testament in the language of the -people of England. It was a great gift, and it was eagerly desired by -multitudes who had been perishing for lack of knowledge. And but for -the opposition of the hierarchy, the book and the evangelist might -now have had free course in England. The work of translating the Old -Testament was being prosecuted by Nicolas Hereford, when he was cited -to appear before the Archbishop. Two <span class="smcap">MS.</span> -copies of Hereford’s translation in the Bodleian Library “end abruptly -in the book of Baruch, breaking off in the middle of a sentence.<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> -It may thence be inferred that the writer was suddenly stopped in the -execution of his work; nor is it unreasonable to conjecture, further, -that the cause of the interruption was the summons which Hereford -received to appear before the synod in 1382.”</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> “The translation itself affords proof that it -was completed by a different hand, and not improbably by Wycliffe -himself. Hereford translates very literally, and is usually careful to -render the same Latin words or phrases in an uniform manner. He never -introduces textual glosses. The style subsequent to Bar. iii. 20 is -entirely different. It is more easy, no longer keeps to the order of -the Latin, takes greater freedom in the choice of words, and frequently -admits textual glosses. In the course of the first complete chapter -the new translator inserts no less than nine such glosses. He does not -admit prologues. The translation of this last part of the Old Testament -corresponds with that of the New Testament, not only in the general -style, but also in the rendering of particular words.”<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a></p> - -<p>Wycliffe’s work was really done when the whole Bible was published in -the English language. And although he set himself to improve, correct, -and amend his own and Hereford’s translation, yet he could now, as at -no previous time, say, “Now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> -Not long after this he died in peace at Lutterworth, in Leicestershire, -on the 31st of December 1384. And notwithstanding the ridicule of -all who snarl at Mr. Foxe for counting him a martyr in his calendar, -he really lived a martyr’s life, and died a martyr’s death: he lived -and died a faithful witness of the truth. If he was not in spirit a -martyr, there never was a martyr in the history of the Church; and if -his persecutors were not in spirit tyrants whose purpose was to add -Wycliffe’s name to the roll of martyrs, there never were those who -persecuted the saints unto bonds, imprisonment, and death. What else -means the decree of the Council of Constance in 1415, which not only -cursed his memory, as that of one dying an obstinate heretic, but -ordered his body (with this charitable caution, “if it may be discerned -from the bodies of other faithful people”), to be taken out of the -ground and thrown far off from any Christian burial? In obedience to -this decree—being, as Godwin says, required by the Council of Sena so -to do<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a>—Richard Fleming, -Bishop of Lincoln, Diocesan of Lutterworth in 1428, sent officers to -ungrave the body of Wycliffe. To Lutterworth they come, take what was -left out of the grave, and burning it, cast the ashes into the Swift, -a neighboring brook running hard by. “Thus hath this brook conveyed -his ashes into Avon, Avon into Severn, Severn into the narrow seas, -and these into the main ocean. And thus the ashes of Wycliffe are the -emblem of his doctrine, which now is dispersed all the world over.”<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a></p> - -<p>With Fuller’s graphic record of the action of the servants of Bishop -Fleming of Lincoln we might conclude our review of the work of this -truly great and good man; but we cannot conclude without saying that -the decree of the Constance Council and the action of the Lincoln -bishop reveal at the same time the power of Wycliffe’s doctrines and -the impotence of the papal opposition to Wycliffe and to Lollardism. -Truth dies not: it may be burned, but, like the sacred bush on the -hillside of Horeb, it is not consumed. It may fall in the street; it -may be trodden under foot of men; it may be put into the grave; but -it is not dead,—it lives, rises again, and is free. The bonds only -are consumed; and the grave-clothes and the napkin only are left in -the sepulchre. The word itself liveth and abideth forever. It has in -it not only an eternal vitality, but also a seminal virtue. It is the -seed of the kingdom of God. Some of the books of Wycliffe were put -into the hands of John Hus in the University of Prague. Of Hus it may -be said that, like the prophet, he ate the books given to him. He so -appropriated them, not in the spirit only, but also in the letter, -that the doctrines, and even the verbal expressions, of Wycliffe, were -reproduced and proclaimed by him in Bohemia. This is demonstrated by -Dr. Loserth in his recent work, “Wycliffe and Hus.”<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></p> - -<p>The story of the Gospel in Bohemia is really a record of the work -of Wycliffe in a foreign land, where he was regarded as little less -than “a fifth evangelist.” The heresies of Wycliffe, condemned by the -Council of Constance, were the Gospel for which John Hus and Jerome of -Prague died the death of martyrs. But not only so.</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> “When I studied at Erfurth,” says Martin Luther, -“I found in the library of the convent a book entitled the ‘Sermons -of John Hus.’ I had a great curiosity to know what doctrines that -arch-heretic had propagated. My astonishment at the reading of them -was incredible. I could not comprehend for what cause they burnt so -great a man, who explained the Scriptures with so much gravity and -skill. But as the very name of Hus was held in so great abomination, -that I imagined the sky would fall and the sun be darkened if I made -honorable mention of him, I shut the book with no little indignation. -This, however, was my comfort, that he had written this perhaps before -he fell into heresy, for I had not yet heard what passed at the Council -of Constance.”<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a></p> - -<p>Germany through Luther owes much to John Wycliffe. Germany acknowledges -the obligation, and through Lechler, Buddensieg, Loserth, and others, -it is offering its tribute of gratitude to the memory of the earliest -of the Reformers. For, although the fact is ignored by many, the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> -Reformation was but the exposition and developed application of -the doctrines of John Wycliffe. It was Shakespeare who said of the -great Lollard chief of England—Sir John Oldcastle, the good Lord -Cobham—“Oldcastle died a martyr!”<a name="FNanchor_53_53" id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> -But it is one of the most coldly severe and critical of historians who says:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> “No revolution has ever been more gradually -prepared than that which separated almost one-half of Europe from -the communion of the Roman See; nor were Luther and Zwingle any more -than occasional instruments of that change, which, had they never -existed, would at no great distance of time have been effected under -the names of some other Reformers. At the beginning of the sixteenth -century, the learned doubtfully and with caution, the ignorant with -zeal and eagerness, were tending to depart from the faith and rites -which authority prescribed. But probably not even Germany were so -far advanced on this course as England. Almost a hundred and fifty -years before Luther, nearly the same doctrines as he taught had been -maintained by Wycliffe, whose disciples, usually called Lollards, -lasted as a numerous though obscure and proscribed sect, till, aided -by the confluence of foreign streams, they swelled into the Protestant -Church of England. We hear indeed little of them during some part of -the fifteenth century; for they generally shunned persecution, and it -is chiefly through records of persecution that we learn the existence -of heretics. But immediately before the name of Luther was known, they -seem to have become more numerous; since several persons were burned -for heresy, and others abjured their errors, in the first years of -Henry VIII.’s reign.”<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a></p> - -<p>Corresponding with what is stated by Hallam, is the fact that John Knox -begins his history of the Reformation in Scotland by giving, in what -he calls “Historiæ Initium,” a chapter on the history of Lollardism in -Scotland:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> “In the scrolls of Glasgow is found mention of -one whose name is not expressed, that, in the year of God 1422, was -burnt for heresy; but what were his opinions, or by what order he was -condemned, it appears not evidently. But our chronicles make mention -that in the days of King James the First, about the year of God 1431, -was deprehended in the University of St. Andrews, one Paul Craw, a -Bohemian, who was accused of heresy before such as then were called -Doctors of Theology. His accusation consisted principally that he -followed <i>John Hus and Wycliffe in the opinion of the Sacrament</i>, who -denied that the substance of bread and wine were changed by virtue of -any words, or that confession should be made to priests, or yet prayers -to saints departed.... He was condemned to the fire, in the whilk -he was consumed, in the said city of Saint Andrews, about the time -aforewritten.”</p> - -<p>Proceeding with his narrative, Knox gives a picturesque description -of what occurred in Court, when no fewer than thirty persons were -summoned in 1494 by Robert Blackburn, Archbishop of Glasgow, to appear -before the King and his great council. “These,” he says, “were called -the Lollards of Kyle. They were accused of the articles following, as -we have received them forth of the register of Glasgow.” Among the -thirty-four articles charged against them are many of the doctrines so -ably expounded and maintained by Wycliffe. “By these articles, which -God of His merciful providence caused the enemies of His truth to keep -in their registers, may appear how mercifully God hath looked upon this -realm, retaining within it some spunk of His light even in the time of -greatest darkness.” The Lollards of Kyle, partly through the clemency -of the King, and partly by their own bold and ready-witted answers, so -dashed the bishop and his band out of countenance, that the greatest -part of the accusation was turned to laughter. For thirty years after -that memorable exhibition there was “almost no question for matters of -religion” till young Patrick Hamilton of gentle blood and of heroic -spirit, appeared on the scene in 1527. “With him,” says Knox, “our -history doth begin.”<a name="FNanchor_55_55" id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></p> - -<p>“No friendly hand,” says Dr. Shirley, “has left us any even the -slightest memorial of the life and death of the great Reformer. A -spare, frail, emaciated frame, a quick temper, a conversation ‘most -innocent,’ the charm of every rank—such are the scanty but significant -fragments we glean of the personal portraiture of one who possessed, as -few ever did, the qualities which give men power over their fellows. -His enemies ascribed it to the magic of an ascetic habit; the fact -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> -remains engraven on every line of his life.<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> -His bitterest enemies cannot refrain from involuntary tributes of -admiration extorted from them by the singular and unsullied excellence -of the man whose doctrines and doings as a reformer they detested. Like -the “amiable and famous Edward, by-named, not of his color, but of his -dreaded acts in battle, the Black Prince,”<a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> -Wycliffe was in nothing black save in his dreaded doctrines and works -of reformation. Apart from these, “all tongues—the voice of -souls”—awarded him the praise due to lofty genius, exemplary -virtue, and personal godliness. His heretical deeds were the occasion -of all the obloquy heaped upon his name and memory:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds,</span> -<span class="i1">And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>If we cannot as yet cherish the hope that, besides erecting in Oxford -some visible monument to the memory of Wycliffe, the University -should, as an example to Cambridge and to the Scottish universities, -institute a Wycliffe Lectureship for the exposition of the works of -the great Reformer, it is surely not too much to expect that Oxford -should give all possible countenance and support to the project for the -printing and the publication of Wycliffe’s unprinted and unpublished -writings. This, in the meantime, is perhaps the best tribute that can -be offered to the memory of Wycliffe. For, as Dr. Shirley said, some -nineteen years ago, “The Latin works of Wycliffe are, both historically -and theologically, by far the most important; from these alone can -Wycliffe’s theological position be understood: and it is not, perhaps, -too much to say, that no writings so important for the history of -doctrine are still buried in manuscript.”<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> -These neglected, unknown, and hitherto inaccessible works, -are being printed under competent editorship by “The Wycliffe -Society.”—They have more than a mere theological interest. They -are important in their relation to the thought which developed itself -in the reformation of religion, in the revival of learning, and in -the assertion, maintenance, and defence of constitutional liberty in England.</p> - -<p>For from the relation of his work to the University, to the -independence of the nation and the sovereignty of the Crown, to the -Church and to the people of England, a manifold interest must for -ever belong to the name, the life, and the work of John Wycliffe. -Corresponding with all this is the manifold obligation of the -University, the Crown, the Church, and the people of England. For -Wycliffe was the first of those self-denying and fearless men to whom -we are chiefly indebted for the overthrow of superstition, ignorance, -and despotism, and for all the privileges and blessings, political and -religious, which we enjoy. He was the first of those who cheerfully -hazarded their lives that they might achieve their purpose, which was -nothing less than the felicity of millions unborn—a felicity which -could only proceed from the knowledge and possession of the truth. -He is one of those “who boldly attacked the system of error and -corruption, though fortified by popular credulity, and who, having -forced the stronghold of superstition, and penetrated the recesses -of its temple, tore aside the veil that concealed the monstrous idol -which the world had so long ignorantly worshipped, dissolved the -spell by which the human mind was bound, and restored it to liberty! -How criminal must those be who, sitting at ease under the vines and -fig-trees planted by the labors and watered with the blood of those -patriots, discover their disesteem of the invaluable privileges -which they inherit, or their ignorance of the expense at which they -were purchased, by the most unworthy treatment of those to whom they -owe them, misrepresent their actions, calumniate their motives, and -load their memories with every species of abuse!”<a name="FNanchor_59_59" id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> -While we look to the men of Oxford for a thorough though tardy and late -vindication of Wycliffe’s name and services to the University and to -learning, we expect from the people of England a more effective and -permanent memorial of Wycliffe and his work than can be raised by any -number of scholars or members of the University. Wycliffe lived for God -and for the people. He taught the English people how to use the English -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> -tongue for the expression of truth, liberty, and religion. He was the first -to give to the people of England the Bible in the English language. What a -gift was this! He was in this the pioneer of Tyndale, of Coverdale, and -of all those who have lived and labored for the diffusion of the Word -of God among their fellow-men. The British and Foreign Bible Society is -really Wycliffe’s monument. His Bible, as translated from the Vulgate, -was itself an assertion of that independence for which Wycliffe lived -and died. To him may be applied the words of Milton—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Servant of God, well done! well hast thou fought</span> -<span class="i4">The better fight; who single hast maintained</span> -<span class="i4">Against revolted multitudes the cause</span> -<span class="i4">Of truth; in word mightier than they in arms:</span> -<span class="i4">And for the testimony of truth hast borne</span> -<span class="i4">Universal reproach, far worse to bear</span> -<span class="i4">Than violence; for it was all thy care</span> -<span class="i4">To stand approv’d in sight of God, though worlds</span> -<span class="i4">Judged thee perverse.”<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></span> -</div></div></div> -<p class="author space-below3">—<i>Blackwood’s Magazine.</i></p> - -<h2>CURIOSITIES OF THE BANK OF ENGLAND.</h2> - -<p>Considering the world-wide reputation of the Bank of England, it is -remarkable how little is generally known as to its internal working. -Standing in the very heart of the largest city in the world—a central -landmark of the great metropolis—even the busy Londoners around it -have, as a rule, only the vaguest possible knowledge of what goes on -within its walls. In truth, its functions are so many, its staff so -enormous, and their duties so varied, that many even of those who have -spent their lives in its service will tell you that, beyond their own -immediate departments, they know but little of its inner life. Its mere -history, as recorded by Mr. Francis, fills two octavo volumes. It will -be readily understood, therefore, that it would be idle to attempt -anything like a complete description of it within the compass of a -magazine article. There are, however, many points about the Bank and -it’s working which are extremely curious and interesting, and some of -these we propose briefly to describe.</p> - -<p>The Bank of England originated in the brain of William Paterson, a -Scotchman—better known, perhaps, as the organiser and leader of -the ill-fated Darien expedition. It commenced business in 1694, its -charter—which was in the first instance granted for eleven years -only—bearing date the 27th July of that year. This charter has been -from time to time renewed, the last renewal having taken place in -1844. The original capital of the Bank was but one million two hundred -thousand pounds, and it carried on its business in a single room in -Mercer’s Hall, with a staff of fifty-four clerks. From so small a -beginning has grown the present gigantic establishment, which covers -nearly three acres, and employs in town and country nearly nine hundred -officials. Upon the latest renewal of its charter, the Bank was divided -into two distinct departments, the Issue and the Banking. In addition -to these, the Bank has the management of the national debt. The books -of the various government funds are here kept; here all transfers are -made, and here all dividends are paid.</p> - -<p>In the Banking department is transacted the ordinary business of -bankers. Here other banks keep their “reserve,” and hence draw their -supplies as they require them. The Issue department is intrusted -with the circulation of the notes of the Bank, which is regulated as -follows. The Bank in 1844 was a creditor of the government to the -extent of rather over eleven million pounds, and to this amount and -four million pounds beyond, for which there is in other ways sufficient -security, the Bank is allowed to issue notes without having gold in -reserve to meet them. Beyond these fifteen million pounds, every note -issued represents gold actually in the coffers of the Bank. The total -value of the notes in the hands of the public at one time averages -about twenty-five million pounds. To these must be added other notes -to a very large amount in the hands of the Banking department, which -deposits the bulk of its reserve of gold in the Issue department, -accepting notes in exchange. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> - -<p>All Bank of England notes are printed in the Bank itself. Six -printing-presses are in constant operation, the same machine printing -first the particulars of value, signature, &c., and then the number -of the note in consecutive order. The paper used is of very peculiar -texture, being at once thin, tough, and crisp; and the combination of -these qualities, together with the peculiarities of the watermark, -which is distributed over the whole surface of the paper, forms one -of the principal guarantees against imitation. The paper, which is -manufactured exclusively at one particular mill, is made in oblong -slips, allowing just enough space for the printing of two notes side by -side. The edges of the paper are left untrimmed, but, after printing, -the two notes are divided by a straight cut between them. This accounts -for the fact, which many of our readers will doubtless have noticed, -that only one edge of a Bank-note is smooth, the other three being -comparatively ragged. The printing-presses are so constructed as to -register each note printed, so that the machine itself indicates -automatically how many notes have passed through it. The average -production of notes is fifty thousand a day, and about the same number -are presented in the same time for payment.</p> - -<p>No note is ever issued a second time. When once it finds its way back -to the Bank to be exchanged for coin, it is immediately cancelled; and -the reader will probably be surprised to hear that the average life -of a Bank-note, or the time during which it is in actual circulation, -is not more than five or six days. The returned notes, averaging, as -we have stated, about fifty thousand a day, and representing, one day -with another, about one million pounds in value, are brought into what -is known as the Accountant’s Sorting Office. Here they are examined by -inspectors, who reject any which may be found to be counterfeit. In -such a case, the paying-in bank is debited with the amount. The notes -come in from various banks in parcels, each parcel accompanied by a -memorandum stating the number and amount of the notes contained in it. -This memorandum is marked with a certain number, and then each note in -the parcel is stamped to correspond, the stamping-machine automatically -registering how many are stamped, and consequently drawing immediate -attention to any deficiency in the number of notes as compared with -that stated in the memorandum. This done, the notes are sorted -according to number and date, and after being defaced by punching out -the letters indicating value, and tearing off the corner bearing the -signature, are passed on to the “Bank note Library,” where they are -packed in boxes, and preserved for possible future reference during -a period of five years. There are one hundred and twenty clerks -employed in this one department; and so perfect is the system of -registration, that if the number of a returned note be known, the head -of this department, by referring to his books, can ascertain in a few -minutes the date when and the banker through whom it was presented; -and if within the period of five years, can produce the note itself -for inspection. As to the “number” of a Bank-note, by the way, there -is sometimes a little misconception, many people imagining that by -quoting the bare figures on the face of a note they have done all that -is requisite for its identification. This is not the case. Bank-notes -are not numbered consecutively <i>ad infinitum</i>, but in series of one -to one hundred thousand, the different series being distinguished as -between themselves by the date, which appears in full in the body of -the note, and is further indicated, to the initiated, by the letter and -numerals prefixed to the actual number. Thus 25/0 90758 on the face of -a note indicates that the note in question is No. 90758 of the series -printed on May 21, 1883, which date appears in full in the body of -the note, 69/N in like manner indicates that the note forms part of a -series printed on February 19, 1883. In “taking the number” of a note, -therefore, either this prefix or the full date, as stated in the body -of the note, should always be included.</p> - -<p>The “Library” of cancelled notes—not to be confounded with the Bank -Library proper—is situated in the Bank vaults, and we are indebted to -the courtesy of the Bank-note Librarian for the following curious and -interesting statistics respecting his stock. The stock of paid notes -for five years—the period during which, as before stated, the notes -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> -are preserved for reference—is about seventy-seven million seven -hundred and forty-five thousand in number. They fill thirteen thousand -four hundred boxes, about eighteen inches long, ten wide, and nine -deep. If the notes could be placed in a pile one upon another, they -would reach to a height of five and two-third miles. Joined end to end -they would form a ribbon twelve thousand four hundred and fifty-five -miles long, or half way round the globe; if laid so as to form a -carpet, they would very nearly cover Hyde Park. Their original value is -somewhat over seventeen hundred and fifty millions, and their weight -is about ninety-one tons. The immense extent of space necessary to -accommodate such a mass in the Bank vaults may be imagined. The place, -with its piles on piles of boxes reaching far away into dim distance, -looks like some gigantic wine-cellar or bonded warehouse.</p> - -<p>As each day adds, as we have seen, about fifty thousand notes to the -number, it is necessary to find some means of destroying those which -have passed their allotted term of preservation. This is done by fire, -about four hundred thousand notes being burnt at one time, in a furnace -specially constructed for that purpose. Formerly, from some peculiarity -in the ink with which the notes were printed, the cremated notes burnt -into a solid blue clinker; but the composition of the ink has been -altered, and the paper now burns to a fine gray ash. The fumes of the -burning paper are extremely dense and pungent; and to prevent any -nuisance arising from this cause, the process of cremation is carried -out at dead of night, when the city is comparatively deserted. Further, -in order to mitigate the density of the fumes, they are made to ascend -through a shower of falling water, the chimney shaft being fitted with -a special shower-bath arrangement for this purpose.</p> - -<p>Passing away from the necropolis of dead and buried notes, we visit the -Treasury, whence they originally issued. This is a quiet-looking room, -scarcely more imposing in appearance than the butler’s pantry in a -West-end mansion, but the modest-looking cupboards with which its walls -are lined, are gorged with hidden treasure. The possible value of the -contents of this room may be imagined from the fact that a million -of money, in notes of one thousand pounds, forms a packet only three -inches thick. The writer has had the privilege of holding such a -parcel in his hand, and for a quarter of a minute imagining himself a -millionaire—with an income of over thirty thousand per annum for life! -The same amount might occupy even less space than the above, for Mr. -Francis tells a story of a lost note for thirty thousand pounds, which, -turning up after the lapse of many years, was paid by the Bank <i>twice -over</i>! We are informed that notes of even a higher value than this have -on occasion been printed, but the highest denomination now issued is -one thousand pounds.</p> - -<p>In this department is kept a portion of the Bank’s stock of golden -coin, in bags of one thousand pounds each. This amount does not require -a very large bag for its accommodation, but its weight is considerable, -amounting to two hundred and fifty-eight ounces twenty pennyweights, so -that a million in gold would weigh some tons. In another room of this -department—the Weighing Office—are seen the machines for detecting -light coin. These machines are marvels of ingenious mechanism. Three or -four hundred sovereigns are laid in a long brass scoop or semi-tube, of -such a diameter as to admit them comfortably, and self-regulating to -such an incline that the coins gradually slide down by their own weight -on to one plate of a little balance placed at its lower extremity. -Across the face of this plate two little bolts make alternate thrusts, -one to the right, one to the left, but at slightly different levels. -If the coin be of full weight, the balance is held in equipoise, and -the right-hand bolt making its thrust, pushes it off the plate and down -an adjacent tube into the receptacle for full-weight coin. If, on the -other hand, the coin is ever so little “light,” the balance naturally -rises with it. The right-hand bolt makes its thrust as before, but this -time passes harmlessly <i>beneath</i> the coin. Then comes the thrust of -the left-hand bolt, which, as we have said, is fixed at a fractionally -higher level, and pushes the coin down a tube on the opposite side, -through which it falls into the light-coin receptacle. The coins thus -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> -condemned are afterwards dropped into another machine, which defaces -them by a cut half-way across their diameter, at the rate of two -hundred a minute. The weighing machines, of which there are sixteen, -are actuated by a small atmospheric engine in one corner of the room, -the only manual assistance required being to keep them supplied with -coins. It is said that sixty thousand sovereigns and half-sovereigns -can be weighed here in a single day. The weighing-machine in question -is the invention of Mr. Cotton, a former governor of the Bank, -and among scientific men is regarded as one of the most striking -achievements of practical mechanics.</p> - -<p>In the Bullion department we find another weighing-machine of a -different character, but in its way equally remarkable. It is the -first of its kind, having been designed specially for the Bank by Mr. -James Murdoch Napier, by whom it has been patented. It is used for the -purpose of weighing bullion, which is purchased in this department. -Gold is brought in in bars of about eight inches long, three wide, and -one inch thick. A bar of gold of these dimensions will weigh about two -hundred ounces, and is worth, if pure, about eight hundred pounds. -Each bar when brought in is accompanied by a memorandum of its weight. -The question of quality is determined by the process of assaying; the -weight is checked by means of the weighing-machine we have referred to. -This takes the form of an extremely massive pair of scales, working -on a beam of immense strength and solidity, and is based, so as to -be absolutely rigid, on a solid bed of concrete. The whole stands -about six feet high by three wide, and is inclosed in an air-tight -plate-glass case, a sash in which is raised when it is desired to use -the machine. The two sides of the scale are each kept permanently -loaded, the one with a single weight of three hundred and sixty ounces, -the other with a number of weights of various sizes to the same amount. -When it is desired to test the weight of a bar of gold, weights to the -amount stated in the corresponding memorandum, <i>less half an ounce</i>, -are removed from the latter scale, and the bar of gold substituted in -their place. Up to this point the beam of the scale is kept perfectly -horizontal, being maintained in that position by a mechanical break; -but now a stud is pressed, and by means of delicate machinery, actuated -by water-power, the beam is released. If the weight of the bar has been -correctly stated in the memorandum, the scale which holds it should be -exactly half an ounce in excess. This or any less excess of weight over -the three hundred and sixty ounces in the opposite scale is instantly -registered by the machine, a pointer travelling round a dial until it -indicates the proper amount. The function of the machine, however, is -limited to weighing half an ounce only. If the discrepancy between the -two scales as loaded is greater than this, or if on the other hand the -bar of gold is more than half an ounce less than the amount stated in -the memorandum, an electric bell rings by way of warning, the pointer -travels right round the dial, and returns to zero. So delicate is the -adjustment, that the weight of half a penny postage stamp—somewhat -less than half a grain—will set the hand in motion and be recorded -on the dial.</p> - -<p>The stock of gold in the bullion vault varies from one to three million -pounds stirling. The bars are laid side by side on small flat trucks or -barrows carrying one hundred bars each. In a glass case in this vault -is seen a portion of the war indemnity paid by King Coffee of Ashantee, -consisting of gold ornaments, a little short of standard fineness.</p> - -<p>One of the first reflections that strike an outsider permitted to -inspect the repository of so much treasure is, “Can all this wealth -be safe?” These heaps of precious metal, these piles of still more -precious notes, are handled by the officials in such an easy-going, -matter-of-course way, that one would almost fancy a few thousand would -scarcely be missed; and that a dishonest person had only to walk in -and help himself to as many sovereigns or hundred pound notes as his -pockets could accommodate. Such, however, is very far from being the -case. The safeguards against robbery, either by force or fraud, are -many and elaborate. At night the Bank is guarded at all accessible -points by an ample military force, which would no doubt give a good -account of any intruder rash enough to attempt to gain an entrance. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> -In the event of attack from without,there are sliding galleries which -can be thrust out from the roof, and which would enable a body of -sharpshooters to rake the streets in all directions.</p> - -<p class="space-below3">Few people are aware that the Bank of England contains -within its walls a graveyard, but such is nevertheless the fact. The Gordon riots -in 1780, during which the Bank was attacked by a mob, called attention to -the necessity for strengthening its defences. Competent authorities -advised that an adjoining church, rejoicing in the appropriate name of -St. Christopher-le-Stocks, was in a military sense a source of danger, -and accordingly an Act of Parliament was passed to enable the directors -to purchase the church and its appurtenances. The old churchyard, -tastefully laid out, now forms what is known as the Bank “garden,” the -handsome “Court Room” or “Bank Parlor” abutting on one of its sides. -There is a magnificent lime-tree, one of the largest in London, in -the centre of the garden, and tradition states that under this tree -a former clerk of the Bank, <i>eight feet high</i>, lies buried. With -this last, though not least of the curiosities of the Bank, we must -bring the present article to a close. We had intended briefly to -have referred to sundry eventful pages of its history; but these we -are compelled, by considerations of space, to reserve for a future -paper.—<i>Chambers’s Journal.</i></p> - -<h2>THE RYE HOUSE PLOT.</h2> - -<p class="center space-below1"><b>BY ALEXANDER CHARLES EWALD.</b></p> - -<p>Towards the close of the autumn of 1682, the discontent which the -domestic and foreign policy of the “Merry Monarch” had excited among -his subjects at last began to assume a tangible and aggressive form. -The aim of our second Charles was nothing less than to overthrow the -English constitution, to render himself free of parliamentary control, -to bias English justice, to make his lieges slaves, and to attain his -disloyal ends, if need be, by the aid of France, whose pensioner he -was. Nor had he been at this time unsuccessful in his object. In spite -of the hostility of the country party—as the opponents of the court -were styled—the Duke of York was not debarred from succession to the -throne; for, thanks to the eloquence of the brilliant Halifax, the -Exclusion Bill had been rejected. The law had also been turned into -a most potent engine of oppression by causing it to interpret, not -justice, but the wishes of the King; only such judges were appointed -as would prove obedient to the royal will, and only such juries were -summoned as might be trusted to carry out the royal behests. The -Anglican clergy rallied round the throne, and everywhere taught the -doctrine of passive obedience and the heinousness of resistance to -the divine right of kings. A secret treaty with Louis of France had -rendered Charles, by its pecuniary clauses, entirely independent of -his subjects. The disaffection of London had been crushed by its Lord -Mayor being converted to the policy of the court, and by the nomination -of the sheriffs, not at Guildhall, but at Whitehall—an interference -which made every corporation in the kingdom tremble for its stability. -For the last ten years the leaders of the country party had waged -war to the knife against this organised despotism on the part of the -monarch, yet all opposition had proved unavailing. The unscrupulous and -vindictive Shaftesbury,—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In friendship false, implacable in hate,</span> -<span class="i0">Resolved to ruin or to rule the State,</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>had led the attack, and endeavored in vain to stir up the nation -against its sovereign; then, mortified at the failure of his efforts, -had withdrawn to the Continent, and there perished a victim to -disappointed revenge and dissatisfied ambition. The amiable Lord -William Russell had, in his place in Parliament, openly opposed the -court, and warned the country of the dangers that would ensue should -the arbitrary government of Charles be longer tolerated. Algernon -Sydney, Essex, and Hampden had followed suit; but their teaching -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> -and invective had been delivered to no purpose; the power and the -bribes of the throne, acting upon the natural servility of man, had -been too puissant and convincing not to be effectual in crushing all -resistance. Victory, therefore, at present rested with the King, not -with his opponents.</p> - -<p>And now it was that this disaffection, which had so long been futile -in its efforts at revolt, began to trouble the minds of men of a far -different character from the recognised chiefs of the country party. At -that time there were certain desperadoes haunting the taverns of the -east of London, who, after much secret council and drinking together, -had come to the conclusion that the simplest solution of the national -difficulty was to murder the King and his brother, the Duke of York, -and then—but not till then—the throne being vacant, to consider -what form of constitution should be adopted. The leader of the band -was one whose name will live as long as the great satire of Dryden is -remembered. Anglican priest, Dissenting divine, political agitator, -spy informer, as mischievous as he was treacherous, Robert Ferguson -belonged to that class which every conspiracy seems to enroll; foremost -in advice, last in action, brave when there is no danger, but the first -to fly and purchase safety by a base and compromising confession. On -this occasion he was the treasurer of the conspirators,—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Judas that keeps the rebels’ pension-purse;</span> -<span class="i0">Judas that pays the treason-writer’s fee;</span> -<span class="i0">Judas that well deserves his namesake’s tree.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The rest of the crew call for no special mention. Among the more -prominent we find Josiah Keeling, a citizen and salter of London, -who was deep in the counsels of the plotters, and who repaid their -confidence by informing the Government, at the first sign of peril, of -what had been discussed and planned; Colonel Walcot, an old officer -of Cromwell; Colonel Romsey, a soldier of fortune who had fought with -distinction in Portugal; Sir Thomas Armstrong, “a debauched atheistical -bravo;” Robert West, a barrister in good practice; Thomas Shepherd, a -wine merchant; Richard Rumbald, an old officer in Cromwell’s army, but -at this time a maltster; Richard Goodenough, who had been under-sheriff -of London; John Ayloffe, a lawyer, the very man who, on one occasion, -to show how complete was the vassalage of England to France, had placed -a wooden shoe in the chair of the Speaker of the House of Commons; and -Ford, Lord Grey of Wark, who had brought himself conspicuously before -the public by debauching his wife’s sister. Added to this list were -barristers, soldiers of fortune, bankrupt traders, and the men who, -having nothing to lose and everything to gain, look upon agitation and -conspiracy as a form of industry likely to lead to solid advantages. -Such was the reckless band which met to “amend the constitution,” -and “restore our Protestantism,” during the quiet hours of many an -autumn evening, in the parlors of the Sun Tavern “behind the Royal -Exchange,” the Horseshoe Tavern “on Tower Hill,” the Mitre Tavern -“within Aldgate,” the Salutation “in Lombard Street,” the Dolphin -“behind Bartholomew Lane,” and in other well-known hostels. The only -two toasts permitted at the gatherings were “To the man who first draws -his sword in defence of the Protestant religion against Popery and -slavery,” and “To the confusion of the two brothers at Whitehall.” In -order to prevent their conversation being overheard by any inquisitive -stranger, the conspirators adopted a peculiar language which they -alone could understand. A blunderbuss was a “swan’s quill,” a musket -“a goose-quill,” pistols “crow-quills,” powder and bullets, “ink and -sand;” Charles was either “the churchwarden at Whitehall,” or “a -blackbird;” whilst James, Duke of York, was “a goldfinch.” The object -of these meetings was at last decided upon; it was resolved that the -King and his brother should be assassinated, or, in the slang employed -by the plotters, “a deed of bargain and sale should be executed to bar -both him in possession and him in remainder.”<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> -<p>This resolution carried, the next question which came up for settlement -was how the design should be accomplished. Much discussion ensued, but -after frequent deliberations a scheme of action was drawn up. It was -known that the King, on his return from racing at Newmarket, would -have to pass the farm of Richard Rumbald, called the Rye House. This -farm was situated in a prettily timbered part of Hertfordshire, about -eighteen miles from London, and derived its name from the Rye, a large -meadow adjoining the holding. Close to this paddock ran the by-road -from Bishop’s Stortford to Hoddesdon, which was constantly used by -Charles and his brother when they drove to or from Newmarket. Thus the -royal couple, on such occasions, would fall within easy pistol-shot of -any assailant secreted within the farm. The Rye House, from the nature -of its situation, also seemed to favor conspiracy. It was an old strong -building, standing alone, and encompassed with a moat; towards the -garden it was surrounded by high walls “so that twenty men might easily -defend it for some time against five hundred.” From a lofty tower in -the house an extensive view was commanded; “hence all who go or come -may be seen both ways for more than a mile’s distance.” In approaching -the farm, when driving from Newmarket to London, it was necessary to -cross a narrow causeway, at the end of which was a toll-gate; “which -having entered, you go through a yard and a little field, and at the -end of that, through another gate, you pass into a narrow lane, where -two coaches could not go abreast.” On the left hand of this lane was -a thick hedge, whilst on the right stood a low, long building used -for corn chambers and stables, with several doors and windows looking -into the road. “When you are past the long building you go by the moat -and the garden wall: that is very strong, and has divers holes in it, -through which a great many men might shoot.” Along by the moat and -wall the road continued to the river Ware, which had to be crossed by -a bridge; a little lower down another bridge, spanning the New River, -had to be traversed; “in both which passes a few men may oppose great -numbers.” Behind the long building was an outer courtyard, into which a -considerable body of horse and foot could be drawn up unperceived from -the road, “whence they might easily issue out at the same time into -each end of the narrow lane.”<a name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a></p> - -<p>The Rye House, affording such excellent opportunities, was accordingly -fixed upon as the rendezvous for “those who were to be actors in the -fact.” Arms and ammunition, covered with oysters, were to be taken -up the river Ware by watermen in the secret of the conspiracy, and -landed at the farm; men were to ride down from London at night in small -detachments, so as to escape observation, and then hide themselves in -the outbuildings around the holding; the servants of the farm, on the -day appointed for the “taking off” of the King and his brother, were to -be sent out of the way and despatched to market; whilst the anything -but hen-pecked maltster promised, when the critical moment came, “to -lock Mrs. Rumbald upstairs.”<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a> -So far all was satisfactorily arranged as to the assembling of the -conspirators. The next question that had to be determined was as to -the execution of the infamous design. This was soon arranged. The -plotters had ascertained the exact hour the King and the Duke of York -were to quit Newmarket; a brief calculation was sufficient for them -therefore to arrive at the hour when the royal coach would be driven -past the road running under the windows of the Rye House; still, to -make matters more sure, a couple of watchers were to be stationed in -the tower of the farm, and give the signal when the quarry was in view. -Upon the approach of the coach with its attendant equerries, the men -especially selected for the immediate work of assassination were to -steal out of their cover and hide themselves behind the wall which ran -along the road; the wall was to be provided with convenient loopholes, -and the conspirators were to stand with their muskets ready. “When his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> -Majesty’s coach should come over against the wall, three or four of -those behind it were to shoot at the postilion and the horses; if the -horses should not drop then, there were to be two men with an empty -cart in the lane near the place, who in the habit of laborers should -run the cart athwart the lane and so stop the horses. Besides those -that were to shoot the postilion and the horses, there were several -appointed to shoot into the coach where his Majesty was to be, and -others to shoot at the guards that should be attending the coach.” The -fell work accomplished, the farm with its outbuildings was to be at -once vacated, the conspirators were to jump into their saddles, and -make their way to London by the Hackney Marshes as fast as their horses -could lay to the ground. If this plan was adopted, it was hoped “they -might get to London as soon as the news could.”<a name="FNanchor_64_64" id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a></p> - -<p>Still the murder of Charles and his brother was only the beginning -of the end. The death of the King was to be the signal for a general -rising. The city and suburbs were to be divided into twenty districts, -with a captain and eight lieutenants at the head of each district; -the men to be armed and ready at an hour’s notice for any raid that -might be commanded. The sum of twenty thousand pounds, which had been -subscribed by the disaffected, was to be distributed among the captains -to expend as they thought best. The night before the return of the King -from Newmarket, a body composed of two thousand men, drawn from these -several districts, were to be secreted in empty houses, “as near the -several gates of the city and other convenient posts as could be; the -men were to be got into those houses and acquainted with the plot to -take off the King at Rye House; such as refused should be clapt into -the cellars, and the rest sally out at the most convenient hour, and -seize and shut up the gates.<a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a></p> - -<p>The moment the revolt had broken out the different captains were to -muster their men and march them to the several places of rendezvous -fixed upon; some were to be stationed in St. James’s Square, others -in Covent Garden, others again in Southwark, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, -and the Royal Exchange, whilst those named at Moorfields were to -take possession of the arms in the Artillery Ground. A large body -of cavalry was, at the same time, to be on the alert and scour the -streets, so as to prevent the King’s party from embodying or the Horse -Guards from doing their duty. The bridges over the Thames were to be -secured, and fagots taken into the narrow streets around Eastcheap for -purposes of conflagration, if necessary.<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> -All these measures appeared comparatively easy of execution to the -conspirators; one detail in the enterprise, however, seems greatly -to have perplexed them. As long as the Tower was in the hands of the -King’s guards, any rise in the city might prove a failure. To obtain -possession of the Tower was therefore one of the most prominent -features in the discussions held at the various hostels which the -conspirators frequented. Some suggested that fagots should be heaped -about the gates of the building at dead of night, and then set on fire; -others that it should be bombarded from the Thames; whilst a third -proposed that men should be lodged in Thames Street, and secretly fall -upon the guard. “Several ways,” witnesses Robert West,<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a> -“were proposed to surprise and take the Tower of London. One was to -send ten or twelve men armed with pistols, pocket daggers and pocket -blunderbusses into the Tower under the pretence of seeing the armory; -another number should go to see the lions, who, by reason of their not -going into the inner gate, were not to have their swords taken from -them, that the persons who went to see the armory should return into -the tavern just within the gate, and there eat and drink till the time -for the attempt was come, that some persons should come in a mourning -coach, or some gentleman’s coach to be borrowed for this occasion under -pretence of making a visit to some of the lords in the Tower; and just -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> -within the gate some of the persons issuing out of the tavern should -kill one of the horses and overturn the coach, so as the gate could not -be shut; and the rest of the persons within and those who went to see -the lions should set upon the guards, that upon a signal of the coach -driving down a party of men (lodged in empty houses near the Tower) -should be ready to rush out, and upon the noise of the first shot -immediately run down to the gate and break in; this way, if at all put -in execution, was to be in the daytime about two o’clock, because after -dinner the officers are usually dispersed or engaged in drinking, and -the soldiers loitering from their arms.”</p> - -<p>Another suggestion was “that several men should enter actions against -one another in St. Catherine’s Court, held for the Tower liberty within -the Tower, and that at the court day, at which time great liberty -is allowed to all persons to come in, a party of men should go as -plaintiffs and defendants, and witnesses who should come in under -pretence of curiosity, and being seconded by certain stout fellows -working as laborers in the Tower, should attempt the surprise.”<a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a> -It would, however, appear that all these proposals, after full -consideration, were deemed impracticable, for we learn that no definite -decision was arrived at, but the capture of the Tower was left to the -chapter of accidents. The first step, said the plotters, was to begin -the revolt; then events, at present unforeseen, would spring up and -favor the development of the insurrection. “Only let the football be -dropped,” said one, “and there would be plenty to give it a kick.”<a name="FNanchor_69_69" id="FNanchor_69_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a></p> - -<p>The King and his brother shot down, and the city in the hands of the -conspirators, punishment was then swiftly to overtake those who had -favored the past policy of Charles. The late Lord Mayor of London, -who had specially shown himself the creature of the court in willing -to yield the charter of the corporation, was to be killed. A similar -fate was to befall the existing Lord Mayor, also guilty of the same -subservience; with this addition, that after death “his skin should -be flayed off and stuffed and hung up in Guildhall, as one who had -betrayed the rights and privileges of the city.” The office of chief -magistrate of the city thus vacant, it was to be filled by one Alderman -Cornish; should he refuse to accept the dignity, he was to be “knocked -on the head.” Certain members of the corporation, who “had behaved -themselves like trimmers, and neglected to repeal several by-laws,” -were to be forced to appear publicly and admit the fact: in the event -of their declining to be thus humiliated, they also were to be “knocked -on the head.” The civic authorities chastened by this process of -correction applied to the cranium, the bench was next to fall under -the ire of the plotters. All such judges as had been guilty of passing -arbitrary judgments, and of identifying the law with the royal will, -were to be brought to trial, “and their skins stuffed and hung up in -Westminster Hall.” Then came the turn of the ecclesiastics; in the -vicious hour of mob rule the Church is always one of the first and -greatest sufferers. On this occasion “bishops, deans, and chapters were -to be wholly laid aside,” their lands confiscated, and such sums as it -was the custom to apply to educational purposes were to be appropriated -“to public uses in ease of the people from taxes.” Men who had made -themselves unpopular during the late Parliament as greedy pensioners -of the Crown were to be “brought to trial and death, and their skins -stuffed and then hung up in the Parliament House as betrayers of the -people and of the trust.” It was also thought “convenient” that certain -Ministers of State, such as my Lord Halifax, and my Lord Hyde, should -be “taken off.” To complete the programme, should funds be lacking, a -raid was to be made upon the city magnates, for, said these advocates -of communism, “there was money and plate enough among the bankers and -goldsmiths.” This scheme of revenge and spoliation was to be rigidly -carried out; and those to whom it was entrusted were to fulfil it as -they would “obey the commandments.”<a name="FNanchor_70_70" id="FNanchor_70_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_70_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> -<p>The insurrection once an accomplished fact, and the prerogative of the -Crown, with all its attendant evils, overthrown, the reforms which had -inspired the movement were immediately to be put in force. The House -of Commons was no longer to be the creature of the throne, but of the -nation. The people were to meet annually at a certain time to choose -members of Parliament “without any writ or particular direction to do -so.” The Parliament thus chosen was to assemble for a stated time; -nor was it to be dissolved, prorogued, or adjourned except by its own -consent. Parliament was to consist of an upper and lower House; but -“only such nobility should be hereditary as were assisting in this -design; the rest should only be for life, and upon their death the -House of Lords should be supplied from time to time with new ones -out of the House of Commons.” To Parliament should be entrusted “the -nomination, if not the election, of all judges, sheriffs, justices of -the peace, and other greater or lesser offices, civil or military.” -Acts passed by both Houses of Parliament should be a perpetual law, -without any necessity for the sanction of the Crown. A council -selected from the Lords and Commons were to act as the advisers of the -sovereign. The militia were to be in the hands of the people. Every -county was to choose its own sheriffs. Parliament was to be held once -a year, and to sit as long as it had anything to do. All peers who had -acted contrary to the interest of the people were to be degraded. In -matters of religion complete toleration was to be accorded to everyone. -England was to be a free port, and all foreigners who willed it should -be naturalized. Finally, the only imports to be levied were the excise -and land taxes.<a name="FNanchor_71_71" id="FNanchor_71_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a></p> - -<p>The example set by London in rising against the despotism of the Crown -was to be followed by the rest of the country. The Earl of Argyll -agreed first for thirty thousand, then for ten thousand pounds, “to -stir the Scots,” who were hotly in favor of revolt, “though they had -nothing but their claws to fight with rather than endure what they -did.” In the west of England, Bristol, Taunton, and Exeter were full -of agents of the disaffected; whilst in the north, Chester, York, and -Newcastle were ready at a moment’s notice to act in union with London. -In the south, Portsmouth was the only town as yet which had voted -in favor of the plot. The east of England was quiet. It was agreed -that upon the death of Charles his illegitimate son, the Duke of -Monmouth, should be crowned king, but owing to the jealousy of the -council appointed to curb the prerogative, and to the measures of the -reformers, it was said that the royal bastard would be more a “Duke of -Venice” than an English monarch.<a name="FNanchor_72_72" id="FNanchor_72_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_72_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a></p> - -<p>Whilst these schemes were being fashioned within the parlors of the -“Dolphin,” the “Rising Sun,” and the rest of the City taverns, a -very different order of men were at the same time deliberating how -to pull the nation out of the slough of despotism into which it had -been plunged. Upon the death of Shaftesbury, who had been during -the last years of his life the most prominent of the foes of the -court, especially of the Duke of York, and the most potent among the -disaffected in the city of London, the leaders of the Whig party, -aware of the danger which menaced them from “froward sheriffs, willing -juries, mercenary judges, and bold witnesses,” determined not to let -the cause which Shaftesbury had advocated fall to the ground. They -held frequent meetings at different places of rendezvous, and formed -themselves into a select committee, which was known by the name of -the “Council of Six.” The members of this council were the Duke of -Monmouth, who was intriguing for the crown, Lord Essex, Algernon -Sydney, Lord William Russell, Lord Howard, and young Hampden, the -grandson of the opponent of ship-money. What the deliberations of this -council were it is now difficult to ascertain, owing to the prejudiced -sources from which information had to be derived; the official accounts -of the plot, drawn up at the request of the King by Ford, Lord Grey, -and by Sprat, the servile Bishop of Rochester, are not to be implicitly -believed in; nor is the evidence of the witnesses produced by the Crown -at the trials of Sydney and Russell a whit more trustworthy. There can -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> -be no doubt, however, that consultations were frequently held among -the Six as to the best course to pursue for resisting a Government -which aimed at nothing less than arbitrary power. If we are to credit -the men who sold their testimony to the Crown, and the men who -purchased life by turning King’s evidence, the aim of the Council was -to organise an insurrection all over the country, and with the help -of the discontented Presbyterians in Scotland to put an end to the -tyranny of Charles and his Popish brother. What was the exact extent -of their designs we know not, but in all probability the statement by -Lady William Russell is not far from the truth. “There was,” said her -ladyship, “much talk about a general rising, but it only amounted to -loose discourse, or at most embryos that never came to anything.”</p> - -<p>Nor have we, though the testimony is partial, much reason to doubt the -assertion. Considering the condition of England at that time, and the -conflicting views of the Six who constituted the council, it would have -been difficult for any decided and unanimous scheme of action to have -been prepared. Though the conduct of Charles had caused much discontent -and distress, yet the nation at large felt itself powerless to oppose -the evil. The Whigs were in a minority, whilst the Royalists were a -most formidable party, in whose hands were all the military and naval -resources of the kingdom. To levy war upon the Merry Monarch, as had -forty years before been levied upon his father, was a scheme which bore -failure on its very face, and could not have been seriously entertained -by keen and cautious men like Russell or Sydney. The Six in all -probability contented themselves with merely forming estimates of the -strength of their followers, and with knitting together a confederacy -which absolute necessity might call into action. We must also remember -that the members of the Council were not in such harmony with each -other as to render it probable that they had fixed upon any distinct -plan of rebellion. Monmouth was in favor of a monarchy with himself -as monarch. Algernon Sydney had no other object before him but the -realisation of his cherished idea of a republic, and frankly declared -that it was indifferent to him whether James Duke of York or James Duke -of Monmouth was on the throne. Essex was very much the same way of -thinking as Sydney. Russell and Hampden wished for the exclusion of -the Duke of York, as a Papist, from the throne, the redress of certain -grievances, and the return of the Constitution within its ancient -lines; whilst Howard, the falsest and most mercenary of men, was -ready to vote for any change of government which could be harmlessly -effected, and by which his own interests would not be forgotten. Many -years after the execution of her husband, Lady William Russell said, -with reference to these men and the measures they proposed, that she -was convinced it was but talk, “and ’tis possible that talk going so -far as to consider if a remedy to suppress evils might be sought, how -it could be found.”</p> - -<p>To return to the Rye House plotters. We are told by those given to -speculation and organisation that in all calculations a large allowance -should be made for that which upsets most plans—the unforeseen. On -this occasion the conspirators were so sanguine of their scheme as -never to imagine it might be put to nought by pure accident. The farm -had been engaged, the men instructed, the necessary hiding-places -prepared, and all things were ready for the murderous deed. Suddenly -the unforeseen occurred, and all the careful measures of the would-be -regicides were rendered abortive. Owing to his house having caught -fire, Charles was obliged to leave Newmarket eight days earlier than -he had intended, and thus, thanks to this happy conflagration, passed -unscathed by the Rye House, then completely deserted; his Majesty was -comfortably ensconced at Whitehall, toying with his mistresses and -sorting their bonbons, whilst his enemies, unconscious of his escape, -were congratulating themselves that in another week their work would be -done, and their victim fall an easy prey to their designs.</p> - -<p>And now the result ensued which invariably attends upon treason which -has failed and which fears detection. It was an age when plots were -freely concocted against the Crown and those in supreme authority, yet, -often as conspiracies were entered into, there were always witnesses -ready to come forward and swear away the lives of their former -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> -accomplices, to divulge what they had pledged themselves to keep -secret, and if need be to follow in every detail the example of the -biggest scoundrel of the seventeenth century, Doctor Titus Oates of -Salamanca. Among the minor persons engaged in the Rye House plot -was, as we have said, Josiah Keeling; he was now fearful of the fate -which might befall him should the authorities at Whitehall get wind -of the past deliberations, and accordingly with that prudence which -characterised him he was determined to be first in the field to make -a clean breast of all that had been planned and suggested. First he -went to Lord Dartmouth, of the Privy Council, and told his tale, and -then was referred by that statesman to his colleague, Mr. Secretary -Jenkins. Jenkins took down the deposition of the man, but said that -unless the evidence was supported by another witness, no investigation -of the matter could be proceeded with. Keeling was, however, equal to -the occasion, and induced his brother John, a turner in Blackfriars, -to corroborate his statements. The plot now authenticated by the two -requisite witnesses, the Secretary of State thought it his duty to -communicate the affair to the rest of the advisers of the Crown. It -appears, however, that a few days after his confession the conscience -of the younger brother, John Keeling, pricked him, and he secretly -availed himself of the first opportunity to inform Richard Goodenough -that the plot had been discovered by the Government, and advised all -who had been engaged in it to fly beyond sea.</p> - -<p>This news coming to the ears of Colonel Romsey and Robert West, who -were bosom friends, the two, unconscious of the revelations of the -Keelings, thought it now prudent to save their own skins by informing -ministers of all that had occurred, and, indeed, to make their story -the more palatable to the Government, of a little more than had -occurred. Accordingly they wended their way to Whitehall, and there -told how the house at Rye had been offered them by Rumbald, the -maltster; how at this house forty men well armed and mounted, commanded -in two divisions by Romsey and Walcot, were to assemble; and how on the -return of the King from Newmarket, Romsey with his division was to stop -the coach, and murder Charles and his brother, whilst Walcot was to -busy himself in engaging with the guards. So far the narrative of the -informers tallied with the confessions of the Keelings. But Romsey -and West, aware how hateful Lord William Russell, Algernon Sydney, -and the rest of the cabal were to the Government, by their open -opposition to the home and foreign policy of the court, essayed to -give the impression that the Council of Six were also implicated in -the detestable designs of the Rye House plotters.<a name="FNanchor_73_73" id="FNanchor_73_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> -When unscrupulous men in supreme power are anxious to gratify their -animosity, any evidence calculated to bring foes within reach is -acceptable. The hints of Romsey and West were sufficient for the -purpose, and orders were instantly issued by the Secretaries of State -for the arrest of the Six. The first victim was Lord William, who was -at once taken before the council for examination; but as he denied -all the charges brought against him, he was forthwith sent to the -Tower. Algernon Sydney next followed. He had been seized whilst at -his lodgings, and all his papers sealed and secured by a messenger. -Once before the council, he answered a few questions, “respectfully -and without deceit,” but his examination was brief, for on his refusal -to reply to certain queries put to him, he also was despatched to the -Tower. Monmouth, having received timely warning, had placed the North -Sea between him and the court. Ford, Lord Grey, had been brought before -the council, had been examined and sent to the Tower, but managing to -bribe his guards, had escaped. Lord Essex and Hampden were imprisoned: -shortly after his confinement, Essex, who was subject to constitutional -melancholy, committed suicide by cutting his throat. Lord Howard was -still at large, protesting that there was no plot, and that he had -never heard of any. Orders were, however, issued for his arrest, and -when the officers came to his house, they found him secreted up the -chimney in one of his rooms. As Keeling had informed against the Rye -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> -House plotters, so Lord Howard now informed against the Six. Weeping -at the fact that he was a prisoner, he promised to reveal all; his -revelations were considered so satisfactory that within a few days -after their being taken down by the council, both Lord William Russell -and Algernon Sydney were put upon their trial for high treason.</p> - -<p>Russell was the first to stand at the bar. It appears that one evening -he had been present at the house of Thomas Shepherd in Abchurch Lane, -where the Rye House conspirators were occasionally in the habit of -meeting and discussing their plans. He had gone thither to taste -some wine. “It was the greatest accident in the world I was there,” -said Russell at his trial, “and when I saw that company was there I -would have been gone again. I came there to speak with Mr. Shepherd, -for I was just come to town.” His excuse was raised in vain. Romsey, -Shepherd, and Howard were playing into the hands of the Crown, and -each did his best by hard swearing and false testimony to make the -prisoner’s conviction certain. The gallant colonel asserted that he had -seen his lordship at the house of Shepherd, where discourse was being -held by the cabal of conspirators as to surprising the King’s guards -and creating an insurrection throughout the country. Thomas Shepherd -next followed, and gave very much the same evidence as Romsey—that -his house in Abchurch Lane was let as a place of rendezvous for the -disaffected; that the substance of the discourse of those who met -there was how to surprise the guards and organise a rising; that two -meetings were held at his house, and that he believed the prisoner -attended both, but that he was certainly at the meeting when they -talked of seizing the guards. Then Lord Howard was called as a witness. -He said that he was one of the Six, and had attended the meetings at -the house of Shepherd; at such meetings it had been agreed to begin -the insurrection in the country before raising the city, and there had -also been some talk of dealing with the discontented Scotch; at these -deliberations no question was put or vote collected, and he of course -concluded by the presence of Lord William that the prisoner gave his -consent like the rest to the designs of the cabal.</p> - -<p>In his defence Russell denied that he ever had any intention against -the life of the King; he was ignorant of the proceedings of the Rye -House plotters, and his mixing with the conspirators on the sole -occasion he had visited Shepherd at Abchurch Lane was purely due to -accident. He had gone thither about some wine. He did not admit that -he had listened to any talk as to the possibility of creating an -insurrection; but even had he made such an admission, talk of that -nature could not be construed into treason, for by a special statute -(the old statute of treasons) passed in the reign of Edward III., -“a design to levy war is not treason;” besides, such talk had not -been acted upon; they had met to consult, but they acted nothing in -pursuance of that consulting. The attorney-general held a different -view, and asserted it had often been determined that to prepare forces -to fight against the King was a design within the statute of Edward -III. to kill the King. The presiding judge, as a creature of the court, -was, of course, of the same opinion; he summed up the evidence, deeming -it unfavorable to the prisoner; and the jury, basing their verdict upon -the tone of the bench, brought in a sentence of guilty of high treason. -In spite of every effort that affection could inspire and interest -advocate, Lord William Russell ended his days on the scaffold. “That -which is most certain in the affair is,” writes Charles James Fox in -his history of James II., “that Russell had committed no overt act -indicating the imagining the King’s death even according to the most -strained construction of the statute of Edward III.; much less was -any such act legally proved against him; and the conspiring to levy -war was not treason, except by a recent statute of Charles II., the -prosecutions upon which were expressly limited to a certain time which -in these cases had elapsed; so that it is impossible not to assent to -the opinion of those who have ever stigmatised the condemnation and -execution of Russell as a most flagrant violation of law and justice.”</p> - -<p>The same measure was now meted out to Algernon Sydney as had been -dealt to Russell. In the eyes of the bench, conspiring to levy war and -conspiring against the King’s life were considered one and the same -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> -thing. It was in vain that Sydney asserted that he had not conspired -to the death of the King, that he had not levied war, and that he had -not written anything to stir up the people against the King. It was -in vain that even the Rye House plotters had to confess they knew -nothing of him, and had never seen him at the different meetings. -Canting Nadab, however—as Dryden, in his immortal satire, calls Lord -Howard—was there, ready to swear away a colleague’s life or do any -other dirty trick provided his own skin and estate were not forfeited -for past misdeeds; his evidence was the chief trump card on which the -court relied to score the game. Accordingly his lordship began his -testimony by relating what had passed at the meetings of the Six, as -to the best means for defending the public interest from invasion, -and the advisability of the rising breaking out first in the country -instead of in the city. He also stated that it was the special province -of Algernon Sydney to deal with the malcontent Scots, and had carried -out this task through the agency of one Aaron Smith, who had gone north -and been provided with funds for the purpose. This assertion, though -Howard candidly said he only spoke from hearsay, was deemed sufficient -by the advisers of the Crown to place Sydney’s head in jeopardy. As -the law, however, demanded that in all trials for high treason there -should be <i>two</i> witnesses against the prisoner before sentence could -be passed, and as no other witness had the baseness to act the part so -well played by Lord Howard, it was necessary for the court to resort -to some expedient which would sufficiently answer its purpose of -convicting Sydney. The Court was equal to the emergency. Search was -made among Sydney’s papers, and it was discovered that he had written -a treatise—his famous discourse on Government—which particularly -discussed the paramount authority of the people and the legality of -resisting an oppressive Government. A few isolated passages of the work -were read here and there, the extracts given were garbled, and, thanks -to the coloring of the prosecution, the case against the prisoner -looked black indeed. Entering upon his defence, Sydney, like Russell, -denied that he had ever conspired to the death of Charles; nor was he a -friend of Monmouth, with whom he had spoken but three times in his -life: he objected to the evidence of Howard, which was based upon -hearsay, but if such testimony were true, he was but one witness, -and the law required two. As for regarding a mangled portion of his -treatise as a second witness, it was iniquitous. “Should a man,” he -cried, “be indicted for treason for scraps of papers, innocent in -themselves, but when pieced and patched with Lord Howard’s story, -made a contrivance to kill the King? Let them not pick out extracts, -but read the work as a whole. If they took Scripture to pieces, they -could make all the penmen of the Scripture blasphemous. They might -accuse David of saying there is no God; the evangelists of saying that -Christ was a blasphemer and seducer, and of the apostles that they -were drunk.” Then he ended by denying that he had any connection with -the malcontents in Scotland. “I have not sent myself,” he said, “nor -written a letter into Scotland ever since 1659; nor do I know one man -in Scotland to whom I can write, or from whom I ever received one.” -He refuted the charges brought against him in vain. The notorious -Jeffries was now the presiding judge, and never was summing up from the -bench more culpably partial or more flagrantly at variance with the -clauses of the judicial oath. “I look upon the meetings of the Six,” -said Jeffries to the jury, “and the meetings of the Rye House plotters -as having one and the same end in view; I place implicit faith in the -evidence of Howard; I deny that it is necessary that there shall be -two witnesses to convict a prisoner of high treason; and as for the -treatise of Sydney, I declare it is sufficient to condemn the author as -being guilty of compassing and imagining the death of the King.” Upon -the jury retiring to consider their verdict, Jeffries sternly informed -them that he had explained the law, and that they were bound to accept -his interpretation of it. Thus left without any option in the matter, -the jury returned at the end of half an hour into court, and brought -in a verdict of guilty. After a brief confinement. Algernon Sydney was -beheaded on Tower Hill, Dec. 7, 1683. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> - -<p class="space-below3">Thus ended one of the most iniquitous and unjust trials -that the annals of justice ever had to record. “The proceedings in the case of -Algernon Sydney,” writes Fox, “were most detestable. The production of papers -containing speculative opinions upon government and liberty, written -long before, and perhaps never intended to be published, together -with the use made of those papers in considering them as a substitute -for the second witness to the overt act, exhibited such a compound of -wickedness and nonsense as is hardly to be paralleled in the history -of judicial tyranny. But the validity of pretences was little attended -to at that time in the case of a person whom the court had devoted -to destruction; and upon evidence such as has been stated was this -great and excellent man condemned to die.” Upon the accession of “the -Deliverer” to the throne, an Act was passed annulling and making void -the attainder of Algernon Sydney on account of its having been obtained -“without sufficient legal evidence of any treason committed by him,” -and “by a partial and unjust construction of the statute declaring -what was his treason.” The fate of the Rye House conspirators was very -various. Some fled never to return, and were outlawed like Ferguson -and Goodenough; others confessed, and were pardoned like Romsey; -whilst a third offered in vain to purchase life by turning informers, -as was the case with Walcot and Armstrong. Two years later those who -had been outlawed, and were living in exile, again tried their hand at -insurrection by aiding Monmouth in his revolt.—<i>Gentleman’s Magazine.</i></p> - -<h2>MR. ARNOLD’S LAY SERMON.</h2> - -<p>Mr. Arnold’s lay sermon to “the sacrificed classes” at Whitechapel -contrasts doubly with the pulpit sermons which we too often hear. It -is real where these sermons are unreal, and frankly unreal where these -sermons are real. It does honestly warn the people to whom it was -addressed, of the special danger to which “the sacrificed classes” are -exposed, whenever they in their turn get the upper-hand, the danger of -simply turning the tables on the great possessing and aspiring classes. -“If the sacrificed classes,” he said, “under the influence of hatred, -cupidity, desire of change, destroy, in order to possess and enjoy in -their turn, their work, too, will be idolatrous, and the old work will -continue to stand for the present, or at any rate their new work will -not take its place.” It must be work done in a new spirit, not in the -spirit of hatred or cupidity, or eagerness to enjoy and appropriate -the privileges of others, which can alone stand the test of time and -judgment. So far, Mr. Arnold was much more real than too many of our -clerical preachers. He warned his hearers against a temptation which -he knew would be stirring constantly in their hearts, and not against -abstract temptations which he had no reason to think would have any -special significance to any of his audience.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, if he were more real in what was addressed to his -particular audience than pulpit-preachers often are, he resorted once -more, with his usual hardened indifference to the meaning of words -and the principles of true literature, to that practice of debasing -the coinage of religious language, and using great sayings in a new -and washed-out sense of his own, of which pulpit-preachers are seldom -guilty. This practice of Mr. Arnold’s is the only great set-off against -the brilliant services he has rendered to English literature, but -it is one which we should not find it easy to condemn too strongly. -Every one knows how, in various books of his, Mr. Arnold has tried -to “verify” the teaching of the Bible, while depriving the name of -God of all personal meaning; to verify the Gospel of Christ, while -denying that Christ had any message to us from a world beyond our own; -and even,—wildest enterprise of all,—so to rationalise the strictly -theological language of St. John as to rob it of all its theological -significance. Well, we do not charge this offence on Mr. Arnold as in -any sense whatever an attempt to play fast-and-loose with words; for he -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> -has again and again confessed to all the world, with the explicitness -and vigor which are natural to him, the precise drift of his -enterprise. But we do charge it on Mr. Arnold as in the highest -possible sense a great literary misdemeanor, that he has lent his -high authority to the attempt to give to a great literature a pallid, -faded, and artificial complexion, though, with his view of it, his -duty obviously was to declare boldly that that literature teaches -what is, in his opinion, false and superstitious, and deserves our -admiration only as representing a singularly grand, though obsolete, -stage in man’s development. Mr. Arnold is as frank and honest as the -day. But frank and honest as he is, his authority is not the less lent -to a non-natural rendering of Scripture infinitely more intolerable -than that non-natural interpretation of the Thirty-nine Articles -which once brought down the wrath of the world of Protestants on the -author of “Tract 90.” In this Whitechapel lecture Mr. Arnold tells his -hearers that in the “preternatural and miraculous aspect” which the -popular Christianity assumes Christianity is not solid or verifiable, -but that there is another aspect of Christianity which is solid and -verifiable, which aspect of it makes no appeal to a preternatural -[<i>i. e.</i>, supernatural] world at all. Then he goes on, after eulogising -Mr. Watts’s pictures,—of one of which a great mosaic has been set up -in Whitechapel as a memorial of Mr. Barnett’s noble work there,—to -remark that good as it is to bring home to “the less refined classes” -the significance of Art and Beauty, it is none the less true that -“whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again,” and to suggest, -of course, by implication, that there is a living water springing up to -everlasting life, of which he who drinks shall never thirst. Then he -proceeds thus:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot">“No doubt the social sympathies, the feeling for -Beauty, the pleasure of Art, if left merely by themselves, if untouched -by what is the deepest thing in human life—religion—are apt -to become ineffectual and superficial. The art which Mr. Barnett has -done his best to make known to the people here, the art of men like Mr. -Watts, the art manifested in works such as that which has just now been -unveiled upon the walls of St. Jude’s Church, has a deep and powerful -connection with religion. You have seen the mosaic, and have read, -perhaps, the scroll which is attached to it. There is the figure of -Time, a strong young man, full of hope, energy, daring, and adventure, -moving on to take possession of life; and opposite to him there is that -beautiful figure of Death, representing the breakings-off, the cuttings -short, the baffling disappointments, the heart-piercing separations -from which the fullest life and the most fiery energy cannot exempt -us. Look at that strong and bold young man, that mournful figure must -go hand in hand with him for ever. And those two figures, let us admit -if you like, belong to Art. But who is that third figure whose scale -weighs deserts, and who carries a sword of fire? We are told again by -the text printed on the scroll, ‘The Eternal [the scroll, however, -has ‘the Lord’] is a God of Judgment; blessed are they that wait for -him.’ It is the figure of Judgment, and that figure, I say, belongs to -religion. The text which explains the figure is taken from one of the -Hebrew Prophets; but an even more striking text is furnished us from -that saying of the Founder of Christianity when he was about to leave -the world, and to leave behind him his Disciples, who, so long as he -lived, had him always to cling to, and to do all their thinking for -them. He told them that when he was gone they should find a new source -of thought and feeling opening itself within them, and that this new -source of thought and feeling should be a comforter to them, and that -it should convince, he said, the world of many things. Amongst other -things, he said, it should convince the world that Judgment comes, and -that the Prince of this world is judged. That is a text which we shall -do well to lay to heart, considering it with and alongside that text -from the Prophet. More and more it is becoming manifest that the Prince -of this world is really judged, that that Prince who is the perpetual -ideal of selfishly possessing and enjoying, and of the worlds fashioned -under the inspiration of this ideal, is judged. One world and another -have gone to pieces because they were fashioned under the inspiration -of this ideal, and that is a consoling and edifying thought.”</p> - -<p class="space-below3">Now, when we know, as Mr. Arnold wishes us all to know, -that to him “the Eternal” means nothing more than that “stream of tendency, -not ourselves, which makes for righteousness,” that “Judgment” -means nothing but the ultimate defeat which may await those who set -themselves against this stream of tendency, if the stream of tendency -be really as potent and as lasting as the Jews believed God to be, we -do not think that the consoling character of this text will be keenly -felt by impartial minds. Further, we should remember that according to -Mr. Arnold, when Christ told his disciples that the Comforter should -“reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment; of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> -sin because they believed not on me, of righteousness because I go -to the Father, and ye see me no more; of judgment because the prince -of this world is judged,” we should understand this as importing, -to those at least who agree with Mr. Arnold, only that, for some -unknown reason, a new wave of feeling would follow Christ’s death, -which would give mankind a new sense of their unworthiness, a new -vision of Christ’s holiness, and a new confidence in the power of that -“stream of tendency, not ourselves, which makes for righteousness,” -in which Christ’s own personality would then be merged; and further, -that this powerful stream of tendency would probably sweep away all -institutions not tending to righteousness but opposing an obstacle -to that tendency. Well, all we can say is that, in watering-down in -this way the language of the Bible, Mr. Arnold, if he is doing nothing -else, is doing what lies in his power to extinguish the distinctive -significance of a great literature. The whole power of that literature -depends from beginning to end on the faith in a Divine Being who holds -the universe in his hand, whose will nothing can resist, who inspires -the good, who punishes the evil, who judges kingdoms as he judges the -hearts of men, and whose mind manifested in Christ promised to Christ’s -disciples that which his power alone availed to fulfil. To substitute -for a faith such as this, a belief—to our minds the wildest in the -world, and the least verifiable—that “a stream of tendency” effects -all that the prophets ascribed to God, or, at least so much of it as -ever will be effected at all, and that Christ, by virtue merely of his -complete identification with this stream of tendency, is accomplishing -posthumously, without help from either Father, Son, or Spirit, all that -he could have expected to accomplish through the personal agency of -God, is to extract the kernel from the shell, and to ask us to accept -the empty husk for the living grain. We are not reproaching Mr. Arnold -for his scepticism. We are reproaching him as a literary man for trying -to give currency in a debased form to language of which the whole power -depends on its being used honestly in the original sense. “The Eternal” -means one thing when it means the everlasting and supreme thought -and will and life; it is an expression utterly blank and dead when -it means nothing but a select “stream of tendency” which is assumed, -for no particular reason, to be constant, permanent, and victorious. -“Living water” means one thing when it means the living stream of God’s -influence; it has no salvation in it at all when it means only that -which is the purest of the many tendencies in human life. The shadow -of judgment means one thing when it is cast by the will of the supreme -righteousness; it has no solemnity in it when it expresses only the -sanguine anticipation of human virtue. There is no reason on earth -why Mr. Arnold should not water-down the teaching of the Bible to his -own view of its residual meaning; but then, in the name of sincere -literature, let him find his own language for it, and not dress up -this feeble and superficial hopefulness of the nineteenth century in -words which are undoubtedly stamped with an ardor and a peace for -which his teaching can give us no sort of justification. “Solidity and -verification,” indeed! Never was there a doctrine with less bottom in -it and less pretence of verification than his; but be that as it may, -he must know, as well as we know, that his doctrine is as different -from the doctrine of the Bible as the shadow is different from the -substance. Has Mr. Arnold lately read Dr. Newman’s great Oxford sermon -on “Unreal Words”? If not, we wish he would refer to it again, and -remember the warning addressed to those who “use great words and -imitate the sentences of others,” and who “fancy that those whom they -imitate had as little meaning as themselves,” or “perhaps contrive to -think that they themselves have a meaning adequate to their words.” It -is to us impossible to believe that Mr. Arnold should have indulged -such an illusion. He knows too well the difference between the great -faith which spoke in prophet and apostle, and the feeble faith which -absorbs a drop or two of grateful moisture from a “stream of tendency” -on the banks of which it weakly lingers. Mr. Arnold is really putting -Literature,—of which he is so great a master,—to shame, when he -travesties the language of the prophets, and the evangelists, and of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> -our Lord himself, by using it to express the dwarfed convictions and -withered hopes of modern rationalists who love to repeat the great -words of the Bible, after they have given up the strong meaning of them -as fanatical superstitions. Mr. Arnold’s readings of Scriptures are the -spiritual <i>assignats</i> of English faith.—<i>Spectator.</i></p> - -<h2>AUTHORS AS SUPPRESSORS OF THEIR BOOKS.</h2> - -<p class="center space-below1"><b>BY W. H. OLDING, LL.B.</b></p> - -<p>Alike in the annals of forgery—State forgery of “real” evidence—and -in the annals of the British drama, “The Golden Rump” has a history -very well known. It was a farce, the representation of which was -made the excuse for the passing of the Act whereunder the licensing -of theatrical performances was established. At the same time it -was a farce which those in power had directly induced its author -to compose. That there was no one to imagine or tolerate a play -sufficiently rampant to justify the proposal to fetter, which Party -Government imagined it well to execute—that this was believed, -becomes a testimony to the potency of customary self-regulation. Now -conversely, and carrying the analogy to all branches of literature, it -may be asserted that the suppression of books by authors themselves -is likely to be comparatively frequent just in those countries in -which the State does not much concern itself with suppression by its -authority. If this analogy have force it must, to Englishmen, be -peculiarly gratifying—though the elements of restraint have prevailed -in our history to an extent far beyond general belief—at a time when -Dr. Reusch’s excellent Index of books prohibited by the authority of -Pope, Archbishop, or Continental University is extracting from the -competent critics of all countries the homage which untiring assiduity, -monumental learning, and rich moderation compel.</p> - -<p>However, into the measurement of this comparative frequency, <i>causes</i> -essentially enter. These, in England, as in other realms, have -abounded. Now, of all the motives which have led authors to consign -their compositions to the flames, one of the most frequent, if one of -the least seductive, has been the ridicule and elaborate discouragement -with which parents have received the knowledge of their offspring’s -first essays. The feeling which prompts this is not one to be -altogether blamed: it has its partial justification even in -the distaste with which the recipient children lay open their -treasure-house to those who in days of feebleness have guarded -them. For there is, as Tom Tulliver felt, a “family repulsion which -spoils the most sacred relations of our lives,” and which is only -broken down by some community of art levelling with the sense of a -universality wherein all distinction of discipleship is lost, or else -by dire circumstance shattering into shapelessness beyond disguise. -This, perhaps, rather than quicker sensitiveness, is why it is that -young Mozart met response, but the little Burney girl did not. Only -to Susanna, her sister, would Fanny breathe her secret, and anxious -was she because her mother gained sufficient inkling to induce her -periodically to tell the evils of a scribbling turn of mind. But, as -with Petrarch centuries before, some time in her fifteenth year the -promptings of obedience gained the day. “She resolved,” says Charlotte, -her niece and editor, “to make an auto da fé of all her manuscripts, -and, if possible, to throw away her pen. Seizing, therefore, an -opportunity when Dr. and Mrs. Burney were from home, she made over to -a bonfire in a paved play-court the whole stock of her compositions, -while faithful Susanna stood by, weeping at the conflagration. Among -the works thus immolated was one tale of considerable length, the -‘History of Caroline Evelyn,’ the mother of ‘Evelina.’”</p> - -<p>As if further to justify the halting or rebuking posture which at first -is apt to prove provocative of indignation, remarkable diffidence in -maturer life has pushed its way into sight where early publications have -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> -been due to parental sympathy. The historian of Greece, Connop -Thirlwall, Bishop of St. David’s, was taught Latin at the age of -three: at four could “read Greek with an ease and fluency which -astonished all who heard him,” and at seven began the composition -of didactic homilies. Now to this precocity was allied a taste for -verse, especially as shown in Dryden and in Pope; and the result was -the issue of a work, edited and prefaced by the father, entitled -“Primitiæ: or Essays and Poems on Various Subjects, Religious, Moral -and Entertaining; by Connop Thirlwall, eleven years of age.” But not -only did these effusions lead to no riper verse, but it is understood -the Bishop disliked the little book, and by no means enjoyed seeing -copies of it. That he went to the length of Thomas Lovell Beddoes we -are not prepared to say. <i>He</i>, when a freshman at Oxford, first owned -himself an author by sending to the press the “Improvisatore.” “Of this -little memento of his weakness, as he used to consider it,” says his -biographer, “Beddoes soon became thoroughly ashamed, and long before he -left Oxford he suppressed the traces of its existence, carrying the war -of extermination into the bookshelves of his acquaintance, where, as he -chuckled to record, it was his wont to leave intact its externals (some -gay binding perhaps of his own selection), but thoroughly eviscerated, -every copy on which he could lay his hands.”</p> - -<p>Gymnasiarch as well as poet, it was natural that Pehr Henrik Ling, -the Swede, should do whatever he did with energy. Still, the burning -of eleven volumes by the time the age of twenty-one was reached must -be allowed to show as much vigor and striving after excellence in -the language of the gods as in what has been humorously termed “the -language of nudges.” Indeed, the author of the epic “Asar” does not -seem to have thrown any work into general circulation until he arrived -at thirty, and then only on the pressure offered by some friends, -without his knowledge, having got up a subscription for the publication -of one of his poems, when, says he, “I could not honorably refuse.” Yet -there must have been much of interest in these now perished volumes, -for not only had their author, early as school-days, experienced -something of the bitterness of life—of a political life, which was -shared by the people—in being driven from Wexio because he would not -betray innocent youngsters who had been comrades, but in the wandering -outcast career which for some years following he had strange and drear -experience, which, acting on a nature poetic and passionate, can hardly -but have expressed itself now in soothing verse, now in melancholy, -but ever in rich and true. It could at least be wished, if but for the -purpose of forwarding that life-resulting interchange of matter which -men of science assure us ceaselessly proceeds, that some of those who -compose under feeble inspiration, or under inspiration which has lost -its fire with lapse of time and change of circumstance, and which, -though a spiritless yeast, tempts to use as a ferment, would be as -little sparing in their sacrifices, so that it should not be held up as -a thing for boast, as we perceive it of late to have been in the case -of the Rev. Dr. Tiffany, that some five hundred pages of <i>sermons</i> -have been delivered to the irrevocable pyre.</p> - -<p>There is the semblance of a common motive inducing men to destroy their -early work, and give over the labor of their hands to consumption -on approach of death. But in the latter case there is usually more -concentration and intensity of purpose. The purpose unquestionably may -have this added intensity merely in meanness; but there is also scope -for more valorous self-judgment. The argument is clearly seized by -Dugald Stewart thus:—</p> - -<p class="blockquot"> It is but seldom that a philosopher who has been -occupied from his youth with moral or political inquiries succeeds -completely to his wish in stating to others the grounds upon which his -own opinions are founded; and hence it is that the known principles -of an individual who has approved to the public his candor, his -liberality, and his judgment, are entitled to a weight and an authority -independent of the evidence which he is able, upon any particular -occasion, to produce in their support. A secret consciousness of this -circumstance, and an apprehension that by not doing justice to an -important argument the progress of truth may be rather retarded than -advanced, have probably induced many authors to withhold from the world -the unfinished results of their most valuable labors, and to content -themselves with giving the general sanction of their suffrages to -truths which they regarded as peculiarly interesting to the human race.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> -This finely balanced observation—kind, penetrating, lacking warmth, -that it may appear more general, more forcible—was made apropos of -Adam Smith. It appears from a letter to Hume that as early as 1773 -Smith, who died in 1790, had determined that the bulk of the literary -papers about him should never be published. And he would in after-life -seem carefully to have separated, as he esteemed it worthy or not, -whatever work he did. Among the papers destined to destruction one -may guess—for though Smith, to the end a slow composer, had the -habit of dictating to a secretary as he paced his room, the contents -of his portfolios were not certainly known to any—were the lectures -on rhetoric which he read at Edinburgh in 1748, and those on natural -religion and jurisprudence which formed part of his course at Glasgow. -But his anxiety to blot out the trace of even these, which he was too -conscientious not at one time to have deemed sound, so increased as his -last painful illness drew the threads of life out of his willing hand, -that Dr. Hutton says he not only entreated the friends to whom he had -entrusted the disposal of his MSS., to destroy them with some small -specified exceptions, in the event of his death; but at the last could -not rest satisfied till he learnt that the volumes were in ashes; and -to that state, to his marked relief, they were accordingly reduced some -few days before his death.</p> - -<p>This anxiety of Smith’s, who had justly confidence in his executors, -has frequently been entertained very reasonably indeed with regard -to reminiscences, the spicy character of which often requires the -publication to be long posthumous, but tempts the graceless to make -it not so. Rochefoucauld’s “Mémoires,” which have, however, more of -the chronicle and less of the journal than is generally relished, were -certainly delayed, as the event turned out, long enough after his -death, in appearing in any tolerable form. But it had been like not to -be so. While he was still living he found that at the shop of Widow -Barthelin, relict of a printer of Rouen, his work had been secretly -put to press by the orders of the Comte de Brienne. The Count had -furtively made a copy from the manuscript borrowed from Arnaud -d’Andilly, to whom Rochefoucauld had submitted it for the purposes of -correction—“Particulièrement pour la pureté de la langue.” Measures -as furtive were necessary to recover it. The Duke accordingly pounced -on the printer, gave Widow Barthelin twenty-five pistoles, carried -off the whole of the edition, and stored it in a garret of the Hôtel -de Liancourt at Paris. We doubt if it is generally known that this -edition, wherein the widow had shown few signs of care, was entitled, -“Relation des guerres civiles de France, depuis août 1649 jusqu’à -la fin de 1652.” In curious contrast is the fact that sometimes a -relative destroys what the author has shown no vigilant scrupulousness -in suppressing. It was perhaps esteemed by the “very devout lady of -the family of St. John,” who was mother to the notable Rochester, on -whose death Bishop Burnet has so improvingly written, that the final -scenes of her son made it unsuitable that any of his papers should be -kept—especially the history of the intrigues of the court of Charles -II. reported by Bolingbroke to have been written by him in a series of -letters to his friend Henry Saville.</p> - -<p>Nor let it be supposed that this would have been so adverse to the -desires of Rochester himself. The late James Thompson, author of the -“City of Dreadful Night,” destroyed before his death all that he had -written previous to 1857, though he has been very virulent against a -sample king who of malice prepense with gross ingratitude thus treated -the donor of a priceless if imaginary gift:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A writer brought him truth;</span> -<span class="i0">And first he imprisoned the youth;</span> -<span class="i0">And then he bestowed a free pyre</span> -<span class="i0">That the works might have plenty of fire,</span> -<span class="i0">And also to cure the pain</span> -<span class="i0">Of the headache called thought in the brain.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Pierius Valerianus tells us that Antonius Marosticus, when held in high -esteem and loved of all men, enjoying the dainties of life at the court -of some Cardinal, and dallying with existence which he had rooted hopes -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> -would henceforth be peaceful, was carried off within three days by -a sudden epidemic. The doleful deed, Pierius says, was made more -distressful by the fact that sanitary considerations required the -cremation of all the dead man’s books with the dead man’s body. How far -the sense of tragedy may lie in this melancholy incident, the death -of Shelley helps one to appreciate. His corpse was washed ashore near -the Via Reggio, four miles from that of his friend Williams, which lay -close to the tower of Migliarino, at the Bocca Lericcio. The attitude -was memorable. His right hand was clasped in his heart. Bent back and -thrust away, as if in haste, was in a side pocket the last volume -of the poet Keats. It had been lent by Leigh Hunt, who had told the -borrower to keep it till he should return it by his own hands. This -impossible, and Hunt refusing to receive it through others, it was -burnt with the body amid frankincense and myrrh.</p> - -<p>It was fit that the pathetic in death should spring from a cause so -troublous in life. Again and again was Shelley wounded by the forced -suppression of his work. Doubtless merit is not extreme in the two-act -tragedy of “Œdipus Tyrannus, or Swellfoot the Tyrant.” But its fate was -as subtle and sure as that of Œdipus himself. Written abroad, it was -transmitted to England, printed and published anonymously, and stifled -at the very dawn of its existence by the “Society for the Suppression -of Vice,” who threatened a prosecution upon it, if not immediately -withdrawn. The friend who had taken the pains of bringing it out did -not deem it worth the cost, to pocket and nerve, of a contest, and it -was laid aside—only to be revived in Mrs. Shelley’s second edition. -It is said, indeed, that but seven copies are extant, one of which -Mr. Buxton Forman, the industrious and intelligent editor to whom the -best students of Shelley feel themselves the most beholden, secured, -by search through the vast stores of Mr. Lacy, the dramatic publisher -of the Strand—one of the very last plays in the very last boxes—a -mere paper pamphlet, devoid of a wrapper, carried away at the cost of a -six-pence, proving to be the treasure. And far was the Œdipus from -being the sole cause of trouble in respect of the works of its author. -Posthumous Poems of Shelley were suppressed on the application of Sir -Timothy, his father. The Posthumous Letters, which excellent forgers -had contrived to manufacture from articles written after the decease -of the poet, exercising an amount of ingenuity described as “most -extraordinary,” and receiving the reward of the labor of their hands -from Sir Percy Shelley, or from Mr. Moxon, were called in on the -discovery of the fraud. “Laon and Cythna” was cancelled to make way for -the “Revolt of Islam.” “Queen Mab,” which had been written when Shelley -was eighteen, though completed only when in his twenty-first year, was -surreptitiously published while its author was in Italy—copies having -been distributed among his friends—and though adjudged by the Court -of Chancery, from which an injunction was sought for restraint of this -irregular edition, to be disentitled to privilege on the futile score -of an immorality shocking to the British constitution, it and its notes -were, so late as 1840, the subject of prosecutions and convictions to -all who openly, being men of fair fame, ventured to publish it, as Mr. -Moxon experienced.</p> - -<p>The poets, indeed, of Shelley’s time were peculiarly unfortunate. It -is a sound enough deduction of law that what is evil—is filthy, or -blasphemous, or scandalous—cannot be for the benefit of the public -to learn of, nor therefore an object of the law, which is built on -the needs of society, to extend its protection to—a protection which -has in view the advantages of private individuals only as members of -society. But in this refusal of the active bestowment of privilege -the guardian of public morals in an individual man, in no sense a -representative of his country—a judge of the old Court of Chancery. -Now in active suppression, in punishment for enticing the public to -things contaminating and none the less subtle because presented in -intellectual form, there is indeed the benefit of the presence of a -judge, but the issue is with a jury. And the unfortunate interval, -or breach, through which public morals are so roughly assailable is -measured (usually at least) by the <i>sum</i> of the differences -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> -between a publication disentitled to privilege or worthy of punishment, -and the judgment of an individual or the opinion of the country. In -this vast moral interval, to say nothing of the interval of time -which rapidity in administration, on the one hand, and slowness in -administration on the other, scarcely ever fail to involve, there is an -enticement to the indifferent part of the population, or to that bold -and heroic part which dares to set up its private and painfully honest -judgment against the judgment of a Chancery judge—to trade upon the -bruited knowledge of a suspected well of evil, unchecked by unpalatable -astringency in consumption of the draught. With the narrowness of men -like Lords Eldon and Ellenborough, and the rebellious attitude held by -a nation consciously approaching to the dawn of an age of a freedom -of thought greater because more nobly and wit-wisely sanctioned, this -breach was disastrously great, and beckoned the way to a flood of -mischances directly or affectively extensive.</p> - -<p>Now, a highly curious result of the working of these doctrines was -seen in cases in which—not as with Shelley, nor as with Byron, who -vainly sought in February 1822 to suppress the edition of “Cain” which -the pirate, Benbow, had printed, and who in the same year saw his -“Vision” first refused by the publishers of the Row, then given to -John Hunt, then placed by John and his brother in the first number of -the <i>Liberal</i>, and then made the subject of a true bill returned by a -Middlesex grand jury on an indictment preferred by the “Constitutional -Association”—in cases in which, I say, the authors, from change of -opinion, were opposed to any publication of their earlier works. The -most prominent instance of this occurs, of course, in the “Wat Tyler” -of Laureate Southey. In the height of his pantisocratic schemes, and -full of Socialist feelings, Southey had written this dramatic poem, -and placed the manuscript in the hands of his brother-in-law, Robert -Lovell; he took it to Mr. Ridgway, the London publisher. When Southey -visited the Metropolis shortly afterwards, the year was 1794, Mr. -Ridgway was in Newgate. Thither Southey went, and either found -incarcerated in the same apartment with his publisher, or took with -him, the Rev. Mr. Winterbottom, a dissenting minister. It was agreed -that “Wat Tyler” should be published anonymously. The piece, however, -appears to have been forgotten, and wholly to have escaped the memory -of both publisher and Southey. But it had crept—so Cottle, Hone, and -Browne may best be reconciled—into the hands of Mr. Winterbottom, -who taking it with him, when years had passed, while on a visit to -friends at Worcester, beguiled some dull hour by reading the piece for -the amusement of the company, who were well pleased to pamper their -dislike to Southey by chuckling at his <i>ratting</i> in political opinions. -But generosity clearly demanded that this pleasant spirit of carping -should have a sphere extended far beyond a Worcestershire company. So -thought two of the guests, who, obtaining the manuscript, with great -devotion sacrificed the long hours of night by transcribing it, being -careful the while to preserve the privacy which attends the most highly -charitable actions. Through their hands the transcription reached the -publisher, and no sooner had his edition appeared than Southey became -naturally anxious to lay the ghost of his former beliefs. For that -purpose, with the advice of his friends, he applied for an injunction. -Lord Eldon refused to grant it, on the plea that “a person cannot -recover damages upon a work which in its nature is calculated to do -injury to the public.” The decision of the Court encouraged the vendors -to redouble their efforts, and not fewer than 60,000 copies are said -to have been sold during the excitement the case created. As for poor -Southey, he defended himself as best he could in the <i>Courier</i>, and -underwent the further suspense of seeing a prosecution urged against -him by turbulent spirits in the legislature—Lord Brougham first, and -Mr. William Smith after. The ridicule was all the more increased by the -fact that Southey had recently published in the <i>Quarterly Review</i> an -article in most striking contrast. And it is noticeable that in <i>his</i> -American <i>Quarterly Review</i> Dr. Orestes A. Brownson printed opinions -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> -destructive of his early views, which had also been in sympathy with -Socialistic and transcendental movements, as well as with Unitarianism, -and threw cold water upon, and indeed endeavored in his own country -altogether to suppress, the work by which in this country he is best -known, “Charles Elwood; or, the Infidel Converted.”</p> - -<p>Certainly few authors have had better justification for a change of -opinion than Adrian Beverland. In a work quite unfit for general -reading, which purported to be issued “Eleutheropoli, in Horto -Hesperidum, typis Adami, Evæ, Terræ filii, 1678,” he had maintained -with nasty nicety that view of original sin which Henri Corneille -Agrippa in his “Declamatio de originali Peccato” had nearly as -undisguisedly maintained before him. For this performance he was cast -into prison at Leyden, and would have fared badly enough had he not -found means of escape. His work, however, was sufficiently thought -of to provoke from Leonard Ryssenius a “justa detestatio libelli -sceleratissimi,” just as a previous work had called from Allard -Uchtman a “Vox clamantis in deserto, ad sacrorum ministros, adversus -Beverlandum.” Passing these by, Beverland himself was contented to -write stinging libels against the Leyden magistrates and professors, -and then to flee to London, where he engaged himself principally -in collecting odious pictures. But after a time came a measure of -repentance, and though no excessive purity can be claimed for an -“Admonition” published by Bateman, of London, in 1697, yet the preface -or “advertisement” does certainly contain a strong condemnation of his -“Peccatum originale.” Fifteen years after, he died in a state of deep -poverty, a madman—impressed with the horrible idea that he was -pursued by two hundred men allied by oath to slay him.</p> - -<p>A state more interesting that either stanch advocacy or loud -condemnation of a position once relied on is that of hesitation. It -is one peculiarly unlikely to express itself, because the tendency of -hesitation is to refrain; or if expressing itself to arrest attention, -because subtile or feeble qualifications refer their interest to the -themes they hedge and do not centre in themselves. But when a mind -throws itself with force into a posture of racked doubt, and bids -us be aware that the struggle, not the issue, is of utter worth, or -when with yet greater fervor of expectancy a revelation, we know not -whence, we know not whither, is awaited with every nerve full-strained, -the world more surely than by either other mood becomes a gallery -rocked with hearkening spectators. I think there is something of this -earnest hesitation in a career it is not difficult, at this distance -of time, to futilize—Lord Herbert of Cherbury’s. There is a very -human weakness in his self-debate upon the publication of the “De -Veritate,” but there is a very human need—and, moreover, a need made -personal (as are all needs), though founded in philanthropy. Truly the -more sacred experience is—unless it can reach to that intensity and -presentness which thrills all who stand enclosed in the thin line of -its horizon—the more clearly it is desecrated by the common tread, and -seems a thing to mock at. So is it with the scene which Herbert himself describes.</p> - -<p class="blockquot">Being thus doubtful in my chamber, one fair day -in the summer, my casement being open towards the sun, the sun shining -clear, and no wind stirring, I took my work, “De Veritate,” in my hand, -and kneeling on my knees, devoutly said these words: “O Thou eternal -God, Author of the light which now shines upon me, and Giver of all -inward illuminations, I do beseech Thee, give me some sign from heaven; -if not, I shall suppress it.” I had no sooner spoken these words, but -a loud, though yet gentle noise, came from heaven (for it was like -nothing on earth), which did so comfort and cheer me, that I took my -petition as granted, and that I had the sign I demanded; whereupon also -I resolved to print my book. </p> - -<p>An aspect of mind combining both resolution and diffidence, which has -lead to the obliteration of literary work, is reliance on a friend’s -counsel. An amusing example of this is related in the ecclesiastical -history of Nicephorus Callistus concerning Marsilius Ficinus. This -gentleman had translated Plato into Latin, and came to his learned -friend Musurus Candiotus to know his opinion of it. Candiotus, after -perusing some few leaves, perceived that it would not satisfy the -expectation of the learned, and was even of opinion that it was so -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> -slubbered over as to resemble the original (as Cicero the younger did -his father) in nothing but in name. He accordingly took up a sponge, -dipped it in an ink-pot, and blotted out the first page. This done, -he turns to Ficinus. “Thou seest,” quoth he “how I have corrected the -first page; if thou wilt, I will correct the rest in like sort.” Now -Ficinus was fully as mild in temper as slender in scholarship. “No -reason,” says he, “that Plato should be disgraced through my default; -refine away.” And according to his words was it done.</p> - -<p>It would appear from Scaliger that even had not Ficinus commenced his -out-sponged work afresh, literature would not have lamentably lost. -Far, indeed, would this have been from true, had the influence of a -friend prevailed to wipe from among the works of Gray “The Progress of -Poetry,” and “The Bard.” I will not deny of its setting the sentence in -which Walpole communicates the likelihood of such a fate.</p> - -<p class="blockquot">One quality I may safely arrogate to myself: I -am not <i>afraid to praise</i>. Many are such timid judges of composition, -that they hesitate to wait for the public opinion. Show them a -manuscript, though they highly approve it in their hearts, they are -afraid to commit themselves by speaking out. Several excellent works -have perished from this cause; a writer of real talents being often a -mere sensitive plant with regard to his own productions. Some cavils -of Mason (how inferior a poet and judge!) had almost induced Gray to -destroy his two beautiful and sublime odes. We should not only praise, -but hasten to praise. </p> - -<p>In modern days the function of Mason is more generally filled by -adverse public critics. The case of the late Edward Fitzgerald, who -by an unfavorable review was induced to withdraw from circulation his -“Six Dramas of Calderon,” and probably altogether to withhold from the -public his rendering of “La Vida es Sueño,” and “El Mágico Prodigioso,” -is until the present unhappily in point.</p> - -<p>More melancholy still are those episodes of literary history which -present the wearied author consigning with forced smile and show of -acquiescence—“coactus volo”—the products of his craft to an untimely -end. English history does not lack its instances of these heroic -souls in motley, these Herculeses with their distaffs. There is John -Selden, and there is Reginald Pecock: let us bare the mishaps of these -representatives.</p> - -<p>In the time of James I., the clergy were pleased to advance to -the utmost the doctrine of the divine right of tithes—a divinity -entailed in a pedigree of patriarchal ages, Jewish priesthood, and -Christian priesthood. Upon so venerable a claim so cogently revived, -lawyers yet looked with jealousy. For they saw in every claim by -divine right, where royal and sub-royal patrons were unconcerned, a -limitation of human rights, with their correlative human duties very -apt to be regulated by positive law. Selden, partaking of the legal -spirit—coincident this once with the historic—produced his “History -of Tithes,” a plain narrative, margented with copious authorities, -which established abundantly the duty of paying tenths—but established -on the distasteful ground of human authority. James, who patronised -divinity partly to show the ardor with which he in his one turn could -venerate, partly for the reflected strength wherewith it encircled -himself, partly from conceit and cowardice, and partly from better -motives, summoned the author to appear before him in December 1618, at -his palace at Theobalds. Introduced by Ben Jonson and Edward Hayward, -Selden maintained the test of two conferences at Theobalds, and one at -Whitehall with the monarch in person; but this in nowise prevented his -being called, on January 28, 1618, before seven members of the High -Commission Court in whose presence he was induced to make and sign this -declaration.</p> - -<p class="blockquot">My good Lords, I most humbly acknowledge the -error which I have committed in publishing “The History of Tithes,” -and especially in that I have at all, by showing any interpretation of -Holy Scriptures, by meddling with councils, fathers, or canons, or by -what else soever occurs in it, offered any occasion of argument against -any right of maintenance, <i>jure divino</i>, of the minister of the -Gospel; beseeching your Lordships to receive this ingenuous and humble -acknowledgment, together with the unfeigned protestation of my grief, -for that through it I have so incurred both his Majesty’s and your -Lordships’ displeasure conceived against me in behalf of the Church of -England.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> -Beside this forced submission, the authority which had exacted it -prohibited the book. Further, Selden was forbidden to publish anything -in his own defence, while public invitation—pluckily used—was given -to any who should choose to attack either him or his history with all -the virulence of pocket and party polemics. Nor was this all, but -Selden stooped at the bidding of the king to uphold opinions, no doubt -on three small points, which he had seemed to impugn in his greater -work. It is pleasant to add that he circulated among his friends in -manuscript answers to the attacks which were published against him.</p> - -<p>The fall of Pecock was more abject, and less relieved. About 1449 he -had written—not printed, of course—“The Repressor.” He had in design -to defend the clergy from the aspersions, as he conceived them, of -the “Bible-man” or Lollards. With this view he vindicated the use of -images, the going on pilgrimages, and the retention of the various -ranks of the hierarchy in their full directive authority. In 1450 he -remained in sufficient esteem—though indeed his treatise was not much -circulated for four or five years—to be transferred to the see of -Chichester. From that time, however, his good fortune deserted him. -The Duke of York conceived it well to cover his strides towards the -crown, with the redress of grievances; and the disgrace of Pecock’s -patrons, the Duke of Suffolk and the Bishop of Norwich, together with -the personal dislike the king contracted towards him, made Chichester -a safe object of attack. While all things were thus working for the -good man’s evil, the council met at Westminster in the autumn of 1457, -whence by general acclamation Pecock was expelled. He was cited to -appear before Archbishop Bourchier on November 11, and the character of -his offence became more definitised. He had held cheap the authority -of the old doctors, he had denied that the Apostles’ Creed was made -by the Apostles, and at the same time he had magnified the office of -reason—rather than singly of the Scriptures, or rather than singly -of the Church—as an ultimate test. Accordingly, to this citation he -appeared, armed with nine of his books, into which it must be confessed -were introduced some newly conceived passages and some erasures. A -committee of Bishops, to whom the matter was then referred, reported -adversely; and after further disputation the archbishop offered Pecock -his choice of making a public abjuration of his errors, or of being -first degraded, and then delivered over to the secular arm “as the -food of fire, and fuel for the burning.” He chose the abjuration: a -preliminary confession was forthwith made, a written confession was -added at Lambeth on the 3rd of December, and on the next day, Sunday, -arrayed in his episcopal habit, in the presence of 20,000 persons, -he knelt at the feet of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishops of -London, Rochester, Durham, and of his “own pure and free will, and -without any man’s coercion or dread,” made his recantation. In this -he had declared that he presumed of his own natural wit to prefer the -judgment of reason before the Testaments and the authority of the -Church; had published many perilous doctrines and books containing -enumerated heresies; and now considered himself grievously to have -sinned and wickedly to have deceived the people of God, but returned to -the unity of the mother Holy Church and renounced both the rehearsed -heresies and all other “spices,” or kinds of heresy, and exhorted all -men not to trust in his books, neither to keep or read them in any -wise, but to bring them in haste to the Primate or his agents; in -that he publicly assented that his books should be deputed unto the -fire, and openly be burnt as an example and terror to all others. The -recantation ended, a fire was kindled at the Cross. With his own hands -Pecock delivered three folios and eleven quartos of his own composition -to the executioner, who took and threw them in the flames, while the -Bishop exclaimed aloud “My pride and presumption have brought upon me -these troubles and these reproaches.” Little could he then think that -in some future day England would, at public cost, republish the chief -of the books his own lips had condemned.</p> - -<p>But the punishment of Pecock did not end here. It was perhaps not much -to him that the University of Oxford (which has consistently shown a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> -spirit of illiberality, or at least a burning disposition, throughout -its eras almost down to the present age) should in solemn procession, -its Chancellor at its head, march to a place where four roads met—the -Quatre-voix or Carfax—and there burn to ashes every copy of his works -on which hands could be laid. But, deprived of his bishopric, it was -necessary that directions should be given for his personal fare. These -came to the Abbot of Thorney, to whose Cambridgeshire Abbey the cleric -was sent. He was to live for ever in one closed chamber, so contrived -that he might hear Mass; to be attended by one sad man to make his -bed; to be forbidden all books but a breviary, a mass-book, a psalter, -a legend, and a Bible; to be refused any thing to write with or on; -but to be allowed a sufficiency of food and fire. And in this dolorous -state there is all reason to suppose his closing days were spent.<a name="FNanchor_74_74" id="FNanchor_74_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a></p> - -<p>It is recorded of St. Briccius, that when a boy he saw the devil behind -the altar, noting the misdemeanors of people on a piece of parchment. -This seems to have stirred in him a desire for parchment that he in -turn might write; but so firmly did the devil by his teeth stick to -the stolen goods, that on the achievement of mastery by his juvenile -but saintly competitor, the horny, wicked head was knocked against -the wall, at which painful juncture St. Martin, ever valorous, so -conjured the devil that he caused him <i>willy nilly</i> to blot out what -he had written. What then, one wonders, was the devil’s code of which -the people’s acts were breaches. What his diabolic, though discarded -standard? The prescience of St. Briccius or St. Martin would doubtless -be required to tell. But it is plain he too is fabled as possessed -with desire to bend the will of men in obedience to some crystallized -tradition, some extraneous rule. And yet, what is this principle of -tradition, this authority-binding, which in this form and that defeats -equally Fanny Burney or Gray, Shelley, Southey, or Selden? It is -something which, no matter what its ineptness to the circumstances -of the present, cannot yield; which is made up of the circumstances -of the past, and has in its whole as much as in every shred the -inevitability of the past, which pushes by informed private judgment -and reason—perhaps on the wiser plea that, ourselves a product of -the past, the accumulated and sifted wisdom of that past, the residue -of eclecticism on eclecticism, must be most appropriate to guide; or -else perhaps on the more foolish, that makes a creed osseous in one -infinitely remote exercise of one man’s inspired thoughts. As if, in -the latter alternative, the very strength was not the very weakness of -the argument which reduces after all everything to single and perhaps -sullied private judgment; and as if in the former the very strength was -not again the very weakness of the argument which cuts off arbitrarily -as the last point of systematized knowledge (more often not at the -last) its own method of history. For does it not result that if it -be truly said, there is nothing new under the sun, there must in all -cases be selection, and if selection be thus the real principle of -action, why is some portion of accessible knowledge, some portion -even of <i>received</i> knowledge, to be cast without the bounds of usable -materials, as though to prohibit us too perchance, from strengthening -that uniformity or preponderance in independent selections to which -tradition owes its strength? Thirlwall may act as Pecock, and Beddoes -as Fitzgerald—but both the virtue of action and the virtue of -restraint are lost.</p> - -<p>Herodotus, if we may believe Blakesley and Professor Sayce, though the -“Father of History,” by no means illustrates tradition at its best. -Different, however, would it be, could we make up our minds, backed -by the later authority of Canon Rawlinson to side in this perennial -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> -contest with Henri Estienne. This scholar in preparing an edition -of that ancient traveller took occasion to maintain that his author -was the reporter of things fabulous to an extent far less than was -generally supposed. Hearing that of this defence, which was written -in Latin, it was proposed to make a translation into French, he -determined, as an old critic says, to become now a <i>traditore</i>, as he -had formerly early been a <i>traduttore</i>, and to render his own work. -But if this was his original purpose, he immediately lost sight of it. -He took up, in fact, his argument thus:—From the unlikelihood of an -event it is unreasonable to conclude against it: Herodotus may have -reported things true, in presenting unlikely tales, otherwise, we must -banish a prodigious amount of incontestable but absurd matter, though -much of this character has occurred of late, especially in popery, as I -proceed to instance in anecdotes which objectors may style apocryphal, -fables they will call malicious, and chronicles they are certain to -brand as scandalous. Now, this was clearly of intolerable bearing. -And according to Tollius, its upshot was that Estienne was burnt in -effigy at Paris; though, having fled to the mountains of Auvergne, -and being in the thick of winter, he was enabled to chuckle at his -joke that he never was so cold as when he was being burnt, a joke the -authenticity of which late commentators might perhaps have less readily -impeached had they remembered that Antonio de Dominis had used it, as -he too for writing an unappreciated book was consumed in effigy at -Rome, while he lay shivering with the cold of a November at sea and a -fugitive’s fears at heart. Certain it is that at Geneva Estienne met -with repulse. For the archives of that state show that late in 1566, on -his first applying for a license to expose for sale his “Apologie pour -Herodote,” he was directed to amend “certains feulletz où il y a des -propos vilains et parlans trop évidemment des princes en mal” and that -after these amendments were duly made he deliberately encouraged the -suppression of his work, by taking advantage of an imperfect piratical -edition, appearing at Lyons, to add without license the famous -“Avertissement” with its tables or indexes, which drew down upon him -imprisonment, followed quickly by enlargement coupled with conspicuous -deprivation of the Eucharist on one occasion—if that be the meaning of -“pour punition, privé de la cène, pour une fois.”</p> - -<p>With consequences more radical, but with either far more boldness or -far less wit, Camille Desmoulins upwards of two centuries after courted -the suppression, not indeed of a book, but of life. It was full four -years since he had learnt that the parliament of Toulouse had hurried -to the flames his “La Libre France,” when entering the Jacobin Club, -just two days after the publication of the fifth number of his <i>Vieux -Cordelier</i>, he heard the question being for the third time put, whether -he should be expelled. His presence quelling in no measure the rising -anger, Robespierre, desirous to stay the wrath of the Jacobins by -sacrificing the work to save the author, spoke. “Camille,” said he with -dryness, and that air of patronage which the simulation of a tempered -passion carries, “is a spoilt child; he had a good disposition; bad -company has led him astray.” “We must,” urged he, concluding, “deal -vigorously with these numbers, which even Brissot would not have dared -to acknowledge, but we must keep Desmoulins among us. I demand, for -example’s sake, that these numbers be burnt before this society.” But -with what surprise did the echo of this speech, proceeding clearly, -and accompanied with indignant flash of eye, greet him—“Bravo, -Robespierre; but I will answer with Rousseau, <i>To burn is not to -answer</i>.” Strange retort! Had pride so dulled perception, or surprise -with one stroke slain confidence in all? No wonder that not less the -change of time than the terms, the very measuredness of the answering -words bidding Camille learn that he was treated with indulgence, and -disclosing that his mode of justification would be held to show that -the worst import of his writings was designed, left in him a sense -that his present non-expulsion, even the restoration of the title of -“Cordelier,” had no security. The lull <i>was</i> false, Desmoulins was lost.</p> - -<p>Concession to honest criticism was received with not more tact by -Richelieu than by Desmoulins. It is true that in the Cardinal’s case -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> -the upshot, perilous as it seemed to one of the grand supports of -dramatic literature, was merely ludicrous—but it may also be true that -that was because the appeal was indeed through the intellect, but to -the passive, not the active powers of man. The Cardinal was dramatist, -and had carried politics into comedy by making the characters called -France, Spain, or names of other States develop the fortunes of -“Europe.” Anxious to get the countenance of the Academy, which his -energies had lately organized, he sent the piece to them, that any -errors in the rules of the style or poetry might be corrected. The -Academy fulfilled their task, criticising so severely that scarcely a -line was left unaltered. The Cardinal—but I may as well adopt the tale -as Noël d’Argonne tells it.</p> - -<p class="blockquot">The Cardinal, to whom it was brought back in this -condition, was so enraged, that he tore it on the spot, and threw it -in pieces into the hearth. This was in summer, and fortunately there -was no fire in the hearth. The Cardinal went to bed; but he felt the -tenderness of a father for his dear Europe; he regretted having used -it so cruelly; and calling up his secretary, he ordered him to collect -with care the papers from the chimney, and to go and look whether he -could find any paste in the house—adding that in all probability -he would find some starch with the women who took charge of his linen. -The secretary went to their apartment; and having found what he wanted, -he spent the greater part of the night with the Cardinal in trying to -paste together the dismembered comedy. Next morning he had it recopied -in his presence, and changed almost every one of the corrections of -the Academy, affecting, at the same time, to retain a few of the least -important. He sent it back to them the same day by Boisrobert, and told -them they would perceive how much he had profited by their criticisms; -but as all men were liable to err, he had not thought it necessary to -follow them implicitly. The Academy, who had learned the vexation of -the Cardinal, took care not to retouch the piece, and returned it to -him with their unanimous approbation. </p> - -<p>It seems a pity that after so much care and tenderness the play should -have been produced along with “The Cid,” and that the audience, less -manageable than the Academy, on the announcement that “Europe” would be -repeated the next day, murmured their wish for Corneille’s piece. But -the influence he sought to throw upon the fortunes of the Cid there can -be no need to recount to Englishmen. Only it is clear that Richelieu -was more like Cicero than Virgil, the former of whom indeed affected -to be desirous of burning some productions, but was easily diverted by -pleasant flattery; but the latter of whom, after having bestowed the -labor of twelve years on his immortal poem, was genuinely conscious of -imperfections which so few beside himself could have perceived, that -in his last moments he ordered it to be committed to the flames, a -fate evaded only by disregard of his solemn testamentary injunction. -It is equally clear that Richelieu had not the plea of neglect and -undeserved disfavor felt in its extreme by William Collins. For his -odes, first published in 1747, crept slowly into notice, were spoken -of indifferently by his acquaintance Dr. Johnson, and met with feeble -praise from Gray. The while the author was sensible of their beauty, -and so deeply felt the coldness with which they were received, that -he obtained from his publisher the unsold copies and burnt them with -his own hand. “If then his highly finished productions brought back -but disappointment,” hypothesises Mr. Thomas Miller, “how thankful he -must have felt that he had not committed himself further by sending -into the world such works as his own fine taste condemned! We believe -that when he had completed his ”Ode on the Passions,” he knew he had -produced a poem which ought to live forever, for we cannot conceive -that the mind which erected so imperishable a fabric could have a doubt -of its durability.” Alas! an immortality which sees no origin <i>in -præsenti</i>—how burdensome it is to bear.<a name="FNanchor_75_75" id="FNanchor_75_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_75_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> -It was the conviction of “Messieurs de Port Royal” that in the denial -of self was a tower of moral strength; and in this denial of self -they included a true abnegation of the glories of authorship. “If -any work for God were well done,” said St. Cyran, “it was the Divine -Grace which had effectually co-operated to its performance, and the -human instrument was nothing, and less than nothing.” With this there -was not one of his colleagues unwilling practically to show that he -agreed—Pascal least of all. What greater instance of literary modesty -can be alleged than the destruction by him of his treatise on geometry, -upon his learning that Arnauld had prepared the volume given to the -world in 1667 as “Elements” of that subject and his seeing its fitness -for the Port Royal schools? With most it would be much easier to apply -the system of Naugerius, who loving Catullus, but hating Martial, set -apart one day that every year he might sacrifice by fire a copy of the -works of one epigrammatist to the manes of the other. It is only fair -to add that Naugerius, who died while on an embassy to Francis I. in -1529, destroyed shortly before his death a history of his native city, -Venice, carried forward from 1486, which he had himself compiled, and -submitted to the same effective purging a considerable proportion of -his own poetic compositions.</p> - -<p class="space-below3">At this point I conclude. I perceive indeed that -there remains scattered through literature unused material of interest, and -even that motives to self-suppression of several entire classes have been -here unexemplified. But of this we might feel confident, that the more -and more this subject were opened up, personal as it appears to the -authors themselves, the more and more would one be struck with the duty -of the State, and no less than of the State of professed critics and -of friends of the hearth, not only not to discourage the expressions -of genius if even somewhat errant, but where there is the true -appeal—then, as Walpole says, to <i>hasten to -praise</i>.—<i>Gentleman’s Magazine.</i></p> - -<h2>HOW SHOULD WE DRESS?</h2> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The New German Theories on Clothing.</span></p> - -<p class="center space-below1"><b>BY DORA DE BLAQUIÈRE.</b></p> - -<p>Some allusion has already been made to the medical theories respecting -clothing that have emanated recently from a celebrated German -professor, Dr. Gustav Jaeger, of the Royal Polytechnic School at -Stuttgart. His investigations into the subject commenced in the year -1872, and appeared to have been fairly exhaustive in the way of -scientific experiment and personal experience, with the result that -Dr. Jaeger considers he has discovered that the health of the world in -general is much prejudiced by the materials, as well as the forms, in -general use. In Germany his views seem to have met with very extensive -acceptance; they have revolutionised the trade of Stuttgart, where Dr. -Jaeger practises his profession; and many of the leading men—such as -Count von Moltke and others—have adopted his clothing; and it seems -probable that his principles will be applied to the German army, with -the view of promoting the health of the troops. In Italy the first -physicians have declared in favor of it, and so universally does the -demand appear to have arisen on the Continent, that the present writer -found Dr. Jaeger’s garments commonly exposed for sale in Switzerland, -at Berne, Lucerne, and Vevey, and other smaller towns.</p> - -<p>The stall for Dr. Jaeger’s clothing has formed an attraction at the -“Healtheries” this season, and, by the formation of a limited company, -who have opened a depôt in Fore Street for its sale, those who desire -to look into the subject, and form their own opinions, will be able to -do so in England.</p> - -<p>Dr. Jaeger’s reform is not a difficult one, and consists of the -fundamental doctrine that, as we are animals, we should wear -animal clothing. The physical “reasons why” are—first, that their -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> -non-conducting qualities are a guarantee that the temperature of the -body shall be in a great measure preserved, while on the other hand the -shape and arrangement of their constituent hairs provide for the escape -of moisture by capillary attraction; and their adaptation to both these -ends is greater than that of any vegetable fabric.</p> - -<p>In England we have for many years acted instinctively on these -conditions, and we have adopted woollen, in the shape of flannel, for -use in cricket, boating, tennis, and in any athletic exercises likely -to cause profuse perspiration, as being the safest covering to ensure -us against cold and the sudden and dangerous chills which are likely to -follow overheating in a climate like ours. Our action has been the -result of observation and experience, which, however, according to Dr. -Jaeger, might have been carried still further and applied more widely -still. For this profuse perspiration is simply an intensification of -the daily action of the skin, which only ceases with life itself. If -this action be imperfect or repressed, fat and water accumulate in -the tissues, lowering their powers, and the flesh, which should feel -elastic and firm, is flabby, causing many disorders in the general -economy of the body.</p> - -<p>Besides water and fat, the skin excretes carbonic acid, and the -different decomposed products of fat—such as lactic, formic, and -butyric acids—to which the sour odor of perspiration is due. Much -carbonic acid is dissolved in the perspiration, and escapes with it. -Thus, it is not difficult to see that the kind of covering which acts -as the best conductor of moisture and its impurities, and at the same -time is a bad conductor of heat, and prevents its escape, is that which -we must adopt as the healthiest and the cleanest.</p> - -<p>The power of absorption by vegetable life, of the poisonous emanations -from animal life, is well known, and this process is not limited, -it would appear, to living plants, but is continued by vegetable -fibres—such as linen and cotton—with this difference, that the -living plant assimilates these emanations and the dead fibre does -not, but exhales them again when wetted or warmed. Thus our clothes, -in consequence of their vegetable character, attract and retain these -noxious principles which should by rights be immediately thrown off. -Animal materials, such as wool, are made by nature—according to Dr. -Jaeger—to protect animal life, and will neither attract noxious -emanations nor prevent their evaporation from the body. This is shown, -he observes, by the sense of smell and by the unpleasantness noticed in -cotton and linen underclothing, linings, and apparel which have been -long worn.</p> - -<p>There are many people to whom these considerations have a vital and -especial interest. Certain skins perspire much more freely than others. -This peculiarity occurs in persons of rheumatic and consumptive -tendencies, even when quite free from actual disease. Women in middle -age, also, and all in whom the circulatory system is weakened from any -cause, have this tendency. But the people to whom, in addition, the -Jaeger system appeals the most are certainly those who are corpulent, -or show any tendency to become so. And as this point will probably -interest many readers, I will give a brief notice of what Dr. Jaeger -says on the subject.</p> - -<p>To be in what we English people call “good condition” there must be a -correct proportion of the most important bodily constituents—viz., -albumen, fat, and water. The first is the foundation of nerve, muscle, -blood, etc., and in fact sustains the existence of the body. Relatively -to albumen, water and fat may be viewed as auxiliaries, although they -are indispensable in themselves. A proper condition of body requires -that these three constituents shall be present in certain proportions, -while the richer the body is in albumen the sounder it will be, and -the fitter for work. On the other hand, any excess of fat or water -will lessen its energies, and its power of repelling the action of -influences likely to promote disease.</p> - -<p>Of the evils of the increase of fat most people who suffer from it are -only too conscious. But besides the more visible ones, they are usually -poor-blooded, and consequently lacking in vital energy, while the fat -diminishes the necessary space for the circulation of the blood and the -respiratory organs. The first of these evils shows itself in flushing -of the face when the circulation is quickened by exertion, and in the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> -difficulty felt in the return of the blood from the lower parts of the -body to the heart, which causes lassitude in the legs, and a tendency -to varicose veins; while, if the circulation of water in the system -be also impeded, dropsical swellings in the legs will ensue. The -limitation of space due to fat hinders also the free play of the lungs, -and the obese are disabled from exceptional exertion which necessitates -fuller breathing than usual.</p> - -<p>Thus every one wishing to preserve health and working capacity, must -keep strict watch on the deposit of fat going on in the body; and all -such symptoms must be taken as evincing a wrong system of living; -and in order to stay its further accumulation and get rid of what is -superfluous, recourse must be had to augmented action of the skin.</p> - -<p>The increased percentage of water and fat in the system renders it also -more liable to disease, more sensitive to cold, and disposed to chest -affections in the winter. In addition, the working powers of the mind -are sensibly lessened. Dr. Jaeger has discovered that their presence -in excess can be tested by the specific gravity and the rapidity of -the nervous action: and he has constructed an air-tight chamber where -experiments may be conducted on the former, and a stop-watch tests the -rapidity of the latter.</p> - -<p>Not less interesting is Dr. Jaeger’s theory of the source of the -emotions, which he places in the albumen in the bodily tissues, -emanating in the form of subtile essences, which are opposed to each -other in the effect they produce, and which may be distinguished -as “salutary” and “noxious.” As a rule, the sanitary principle is -fragrant, the noxious tainted and offensive. The odor may be most -readily perceived in the hair of the head, and is more evident in the -adult than the child. If the subject of the test be in a cheerful mood, -the scent will be agreeable and sweet; but if sorrowful, depressed, or -in pain, the scent will be disagreeable. This odor may be noticed in -the anguish of fever, under the influence of terror, and exhales from -the mouth and nose, and, as Dr. Jaeger has proved by experiment, from -the brain as well.</p> - -<p>These things Dr. Jaeger considers that the experience of many readers -will confirm, and that they have great practical importance in -connection with his system. The German names given to these odorous -substances are <i>Lust und Unlust Stoffe</i>, substances of pleasure and -dislike. The former are thought by the Doctor to be the healing powers -of the body, which heighten all the vital actions and its powers of -resistance against contagion of all kinds. Sheep’s wool in particular -attracts these substances of pleasure, while the plant fibre favors -the accumulation of the substances of dislike, with all their evil -consequences. This last fact, which the German scientific medical world -considers Dr. Jaeger has proved, is supposed to be of the greatest -importance, as showing how to raise the resistibility of the human body -against contagious disease. The observations made extend to diphtheria, -cholera, typhus, smallpox, measles, whooping-cough, and influenza.</p> - -<p>I have endeavored thus far to divest the subject, as far as possible, -of scientific matter, so that the principle may be easily understood by -those who have made no previous study of these or any kindred subjects, -relating to the hygiene and sanitary management of the body. I will now -turn to the more practical considerations of the materials and shapes -of the clothing recommended.</p> - -<p>Dr. Jaeger advocates the use of nothing but wool, both for clothing and -also for the bed and bedding. No half-measures will answer; even the -linings of coats and dresses must be of wool, and men’s collars, and -even women’s stay-laces, must be of the same. The material which, after -much consideration, he has selected, is what is called “stockingette -web,” which is merely woollen yarn woven in an elastic manner, like -jerseys and stockings, and the woollen and merino under-shirts and -drawers, now in common use. The somewhat clumsy name “stockingette” -owes its origin to the fact that there was no technical name for that -kind of elastic weaving which is applied to stockings, and which was -called into existence as a “piece” material by the fashion of wearing -jerseys, three or four years ago. Dr. Jaeger considers this weaving -porous and supple and more durable than flannel; while they feel more -comfortable on the skin, and areless liable to shrink than flannel, -when in the hands of the washerwomen. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> - -<p>No admixture of vegetable fibre should be admitted, and the practice -of wearing a woollen shirt under a cotton or linen one, Dr. Jaeger -considers enervating and weakening. Clothing should fit quite tightly -to the skin, so as to allow of the least possible movement of air -between it and the body; the second great rule being that it should -be twice as thick along the middle line of the trunk, from the neck -downwards, as at the sides or back. Another point for consideration -is the number of garments to be worn one over the other. On this -question Dr. Jaeger is of opinion that the clothing for men and boys -should simply consist of a woollen shirt, woollen socks or stockings, -cloth trousers fitting as closely as may be, and a cloth coat. The -coat sleeves and linings should be of woollen, and these, as well as -the trouser legs, when the latter do not fit tightly, must be closed -against upward draughts by webbings sewn into them, and fitting tightly -round the arms and ankles. No drawers are required, no waistcoat, and -no overcoat; not even in the winter time, except when driving. Men’s -coats must fit tightly up to the neck, and compactly to the figure, -and all others must be laid aside as unsanitary. The coat must also be -double-breasted, and like all the rest of the materials recommended, -must be undyed, of the natural color, or treated with uninjurious -fast dyes. The same rule applies to the trousers, which must fasten so -as to continue the middle line of extra warmth. This rule has special -application to those who desire to melt away superfluous fat, or those -who are subject to disorders of the stomach or digestive organs.</p> - -<p>The feet are to be covered with woollen socks, with a special division -for each toe; or else one for the great toe, while the upper part of -the boot must be of felt, and the lower part of felt or porous leather; -the boot being kept thoroughly porous, so that the feet may be as -cleanly and pure as the hands. The usual starched linen collar is -substituted by one made of unstiffened white cashmere, or one of the -wool in its natural hue. These collars can be obtained in every shape -and style, stand up and turn-downs, and they are considered as the most -comfortable that could possibly be devised, as well as preventions of -throat disorders. The hat should be of felt, and no linings of leather -nor linen are admissible. Instead of these a strip of felt should -be used, or else the hat should be quite without lining, like a -Turkish fez. The shellac used in stiffening hats is said to have an -injurious effect, and those who are bald or threatened with baldness, -or those who suffer from headaches, are especially advised to try the -unstiffened sanitary hat and its woollen lining.</p> - -<p>The clothing recommended for women is not very different, so far -as shirts and drawers are concerned, to that advised for men. The -night-dresses are the same, except a slight trimming of lace at the -neck. The union, or “combination” garment, a pair of woollen stays, -a petticoat of knitted undyed wool, and another, if desired of woven -stockingette, constitute all the clothing needed, in addition to -the outward dress, made of pure wool also, high to the neck, and -having a double lining over the chest, as advised in the case of -men. The lace collars for use are also of woollen yak lace, and the -pocket-handkerchief is of fine cashmere, either white or of a handsome -dark red. This last, Dr. Jaeger declares, is a very effective agent in -the cure of the colds and catarrhs of winter.</p> - -<p>Against such “cherished finery” as silk dresses, white starched -petticoats, linen stays, cotton and silk stockings, and white or -colored cotton starched dresses, Dr. Jaeger protests; and says he -fears he shall be considered a disturber of the peace of households, -when he remembers the delight women take in interminable washings and -starchings. But he takes courage, seeing that his own wife has not only -become used to the new order of things, but declares she would not -willingly revert to the <i>statu quo ante</i>, and that women, if possible, -need the advantages offered by woollen clothing more than men.</p> - -<p>The last of Dr. Jaeger’s plans I shall consider is the substitution of -woollen materials for linen and cotton in our beds. The bed itself must -be free from vegetable fibre, the mattress filled with hair or wool, -and the covering of both should be woollen; for this reason feathers of -course cannot be used, although they are all an animal substance. The -linen or cotton sheets are replaced by sheets made of the finest white -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> -cashmere, or, if preferred, by woollen blankets or camel-hair rugs; and -a special form of dress, having a hood, is given, to enable the wearer -to sleep with the window open without fear of taking cold. This last -he regards as an important part of the sanitary rules of his system. -The covering meant for travellers to sleep in has also a hood, and -the skirt is long enough to contain two square pockets for the feet. -Covered in this way, the traveller may defy damp beds, and all the -general discomfort of foreign hotels.</p> - -<p>In reward for our adoption of his “normal” system of clothing, Dr. -Jaeger promises us—not indeed complete immunity from disease, but -health equal to the animal creation that spend their lives in an -artificial state. We shall have flesh thoroughly hardened, and -tendencies to corpulence will be reduced. In a word, the physical and -mental working powers will show a great and general improvement, the -nervous action will be accelerated, and the body will have resumed its -“normal,” or true condition.</p> - -<p class="space-below3">Of course, so thorough an innovation so completely in -contradiction to received ideas, to vast trade interests, and to the opinions -of the world in general, will be much discussed and strenuously opposed. -Dr. Jaeger says that he has been reproached with “riding an excellent -theory to death;” but his only ruling principle through life has been -to “examine everything, and retain the best;” and this is the principle -we recommend the public to apply in the honest testing of his new -system.—<i>Good Words.</i></p> - -<h2>THE MAN IN BLUE.</h2> - -<p class="center"><b>BY R. DAVEY.</b></p> - -<p>I am a professor of music, and was born so long ago as the last -century, at Salsberg, in Germany. My father was a merchant of that -city; <i>fanatico per la musica</i>, as the Italians say, music mad. Knowing -that each of his children would inherit a fair fortune, he permitted us -to somewhat neglect our other studies, so that we might dedicate more -time to his beloved science. My two sisters played remarkably well on -the spinet, and sang finely. Karl, my only brother, was the flautist -of the family, and I devoted myself to the violin. At sixteen years of -age I believed myself an adept on this difficult instrument. My violin -was my constant companion. Nothing gave me more pleasure than to take -my dear “Fortunato,” for so I called it, into the woods, and there, by -the murmuring brook, beneath the rustling trees, improvise new airs and -vary old ones, to my heart’s content.</p> - -<p>So greatly did my father delight in displaying the talents of his -children, that he organized every Thursday afternoon an amateur -concert, at which at least a quarter of the town assisted—to listen -to, admire, or criticise, about as much music as could possibly be -crowded into a three hours’ performance. One fine Thursday afternoon -in autumn, just as the first of our pieces was concluded, a very -singular-looking individual entered the concert-room. He was as thin -and pale as an unearthly apparition, and entirely dressed in shabby -garments of light blue corduroy. His well-worn knee-breeches were -blue, his jacket was blue, his vest was blue, and the huge cravat that -fastened his great flapping shirt-collar was also blue. His face was -the most melancholy in expression it is possible to imagine. He had a -big, hooked nose, thin lantern jaws, and the only redeeming feature -which he possessed, his dark and intelligent eyes, were hidden by a -pair of goggle spectacles. His hair was bright red and uncut, and his -beard seemed as if it had never been trimmed since it first began to grow.</p> - -<p>He did not attempt to apologize for his intrusion into our company, -but without looking to the right or to the left made straight for -a vacant seat, and taking it, prepared to listen to the music with -marked attention. It was my turn to play, but I was so confused, so -utterly by the appearance of this strange personage, that when I -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> -struck my violin with the bow my hand trembled so much that I could -not produce a sound. I tried again and again, and was about to give -it up in despair when the Man in Blue rose from his seat and came -directly to me. “Young man,” said he, “you have a more difficult -instrument there than you think; hand it to me, I will play in your -stead.” I mechanically gave him “Fortunato.” Presently he began. -Never in all my life had I before heard such playing. The instrument -seemed to have within its wooden frame a divine soul, capable of -expressing every possible emotion—joy, grief, passionate agony, and -triumphant jubilee. We were all amazed and delighted, and at the -termination of his concerto such a burst of enthusiastic applause -greeted the singular performer that he seemed quite overcome and -confused. However, he bowed his acknowledgments, though in the most -grotesque fashion.</p> - -<p>It happened that we were on the eve of a grand annual musical festival, -at which some of the greatest musicians of Germany had declared their -intention of being present. My father, naturally concluding that our -guest was some celebrated maestro, who had arrived incognito, hastened -to thank him for the favor he had conferred upon us, and also to offer -him the hospitality of his house during his stay in our town. The Man -in Blue at first refused, then hesitated, and finally accepted my -father’s pressing invitation.</p> - -<p>For one week we surrounded him with every attention, and he, by his -gentle manners and genius, soon won our affection and respect. But all -our attempts to find out who he was and whence he came proved vain; he -took no notice of our discreet hints, and not one of us dared to ask -the question point-blank. He set himself to work to teach me a great -many things about the violin of which I was previously ignorant, and to -this curious man I owe many of my greatest triumphs. “My son,” he would -say, “love music; music is the food of the soul—the only possession we -have on earth which we shall retain in Heaven.”</p> - -<p>If a stranger happened to pay us a visit, our new friend would -immediately take refuge in the garden. He liked to be alone with Karl, -myself, and his violin. One day a merchant named Krebbs arrived on -business which he had to transact with my father, and as he entered he -stumbled against the Man in Blue, who was making good his escape. The -poor violinist, on perceiving merchant Krebbs, became as pale as death, -tottered to a seat in the garden, and covered with confusion, hid his -face in his hands.</p> - -<p>“Well, I am sure,” said Krebbs to my father, “you are an odd man to -take in that creature. Why, I thought he was in prison, or drowned, or -run over.”</p> - -<p>“You know him then?” asked my father, with ill-disguised curiosity.</p> - -<p>“Know him—of course I do. Why, his name is Bèze; he is a carpenter -by trade. But, bless you, he’s as mad as a March hare. Some time -ago our church-organ was struck by lightning. Bèze came forward at -once, and proposed to mend it, provided the parish furnished him the -materials. As he was known for a good musician and a clever workman, -our curé granted his request. To work went he; night and day he labored -for at least six weeks. At last the organ was mended, Bèze struck a -chord or so, and it appeared better than ever. The day arrived for -the first public hearing of the renovated instrument; the mayor—all -the village, in short, was present; and Bèze himself did not fail to -appear, attired as usual in blue. Blue is his color. He made some vow -or other, years ago, to the Virgin, never to wear any other but her -colors—blue and white. I tell you he is crazy. But to return to the -organ. When our old organist began to play upon it, not a sound would -it produce—except when he pulled the new stop out. Off went the organ, -<i>whoo whee</i>, and then it set to squeaking and whistling like mad. The -girls began to laugh, the mayor to swear, and the curé grew furious. -Bèze is a fool—Bèze is an idiot—he has ruined the organ! cried every -one, and soon amid the derision of the congregation, your friend left -the church. Strange to say, since that day we have never again seen the -creature; but our organ is completely spoilt, and remains dumb.”</p> - -<p>Thus spoke merchant Krebbs. I would hear no more, but hurried out to -console my poor friend. I found him beneath an apple-tree, sitting -all forlorn, his face turned towards the sinking sun. “Ah! my young -friend,” he said, “do you see yon little cloud which obscures the -splendor of the sun? So the words of a foolish man may tarnish the fame of a genius.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> - -<p>“But,” I replied, “see, the little cloud has vanished already, and the -light of the sun is but the brighter for the contrast.”</p> - -<p>He smiled. “The cloud that hangs over my tarnished name will have to -pass away soon, or it will be too late. That organ which I constructed -has a soul within it. All my life I have labored to know how to lodge -my ideal of music within the compass of a single instrument. I have -done this. The soul is there. But I know not how to play upon the -organ, and they, in their blind rage, will not allow me to explain to -them. Oh, if I could, before I die, but find Sebastian Bach! He would -call to life the soul of music that lies sleeping in my organ, and -prove to the world that Bèze is neither mad nor an impostor.”</p> - -<p>My father took no notice of what merchant Krebbs had said, and when he -joined us in the garden he entreated Bèze to play for him in the open -air. The Man in Blue played for us a number of national and simple -melodies in such a pathetic manner that several times I saw tears in -my father’s eyes; at last he said, as the musician finished, “Friend, -though your organ is a failure, your violin is truly heavenly. Stay -with me yet a while.”</p> - -<p>“My organ is not a failure; it is the triumph of my life.”</p> - -<p>“But no one can play on it.”</p> - -<p>“One day some one will, and then——”</p> - -<p>“Well, we will say no more about it. Come, the supper is ready.” -And he led the way in.</p> - -<p>The next morning the Man in Blue was gone. We were sorry for his -disappearance; but soon forgot all about it in our anxiety over the -festival which was near at hand. Glück had promised to come, and we -were anxious to know with whom he would stay. Then Bach arrived, and -soon came Graun—illustrious Graun—whose nobility of mind inspired -his lovely melodies, and with him those inseparable geniuses, Fürch and -Hass. And Hamburg sent us Gasman and Teliman. Those who have never even -heard the name of these great composers are yet familiar with their -melodies. Many of the popular tunes now so much admired I have heard in -my youth fresh from the minds of their original composers, free from -the twirls and shakes clumsily added to them to disguise their true origin.</p> - -<p>These illustrious persons were as simple and unostentatious in manners -as it is possible to be. They assembled in the Hall of St. Cecilia, and -I had the privilege of assisting at their rehearsals. I often passed -hours listening to their long discourses on harmony, on keys, scales, -and chords. One night Glück played, for the first time, a portion of -his “Iphigenia;” and on another, Bach enchanted us by a performance of -his delightful preludes. Bach, somehow or other, took a fancy to me. He -had observed the marked attention with which I listened to the remarks -of the different composers, and to their music. He asked me my name, -and who my father was; and I in answer, growing bold, not only related -all that concerned myself, but also the story of my Friend in Blue.</p> - -<p>“An organ that no one can play upon!” exclaimed this great composer; -“well, that is singular.”</p> - -<p>“But I am sure you can.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“Because I am certain that the man that made the organ is a great -musician, although he cannot play upon it himself. He plays upon the -violin.”</p> - -<p>“As well as I do?” asked Graun.</p> - -<p>I hesitated, and hung my head: I did not dare say “yes,” and yet I -would not say “no”.</p> - -<p>“Speak up, my boy; say the truth always, and shame the devil.”</p> - -<p>“He plays better than you, sir, I think; but then he plays out in the -woods, and music sounds better there than in a close room.”</p> - -<p>“True, it does.”</p> - -<p>“My masters,” said I at last, after some hesitation, “will any one of -you, in your charity, try the organ—the village is not distant—and -thus justify the poor man?”</p> - -<p>“I will myself,” answered Bach, “on Sunday. But say nothing about it to -any one. Only to your friend, if you can find him, in order to induce -him to be present in the church on that morning.” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> - -<p>With heartfelt thanks I gave the illustrious composer my promise to -obey in every particular his injunctions.</p> - -<p>On leaving the St. Cecilia Hall that evening (it was Friday) almost the -first person I met was, to my surprise, the Man in Blue. Hidden in the -courtyard of the Hall, he had been listening to the music, and was in -a state of nervous enthusiasm which quite alarmed me. I hesitated to -inform him what Bach intended to do, but at last I did so; he received -the news in a manner that I little expected. He made no demonstration -of joy, but followed me in silence until we were in a lonely part of -the town—a little square in the centre of which grew three or four old -trees. Here he paused, and sinking on his knees, prayed earnestly. The -moon shone down upon his uplifted face, and it seemed almost beautiful, -so great was the expression it bore of devotion and intellect. When he -had finished his prayer he embraced me in silence, and we parted.</p> - -<p>Sunday arrived, and at an early hour I started for the church of the -village. As I traversed the little field in front of it, I beheld -advancing from the opposite side several of the professors, and -amongst them Bach. By-and-by, as it got noised about that some of the -celebrities were in the church, it filled to excess. Presently, Bach -mounted the organ-loft. How my heart beat! Mass began. At the “Kyrie,” -for the first time, the instrument gave forth sounds, but sounds of -such heavenly sweetness that the congregation was thrilled as if by the -music of the angels. As the Mass advanced the more marvellous became -the harmony. The “Agnus” was so plaintive that I saw tears in the eyes -of Glück, who stood by me; and the “Sanctus” sounded so triumphantly -that it required but little imagination to believe that the cherubim -and seraphim were present singing their jubilant song of praise:</p> - -<p>“Holy, holy, is the Lord God of Sabaoth.”</p> - -<p>And the Man in Blue, where was he?</p> - -<p>By the altar, with his face turned towards his organ. His whole -countenance was radiant, his eyes were bright, and a look ecstatic and -serene passed over his features. But how ethereal he looked!</p> - -<p>When Mass was over the congregation passed round the porch to see the -great composers. “Long live Bach!” “Hail to Glück!” they cried as they -recognized these popular men.</p> - -<p>But Bach held aloof. “Lead me,” he said, “to that man of genius who has -so wonderfully improved the king of instruments.”</p> - -<p>“Master,” I answered, “he is in the church.” And we re-entered the -sacred edifice together, followed by Graun. I led them to the Man in -Blue. But what a change had come over him! The pallor of death was on -his brow; he had sunk back on a bench, and when he perceived us vainly -strove to rise. “Ah! excuse me, my masters. I receive you very badly; -but I am not well—the joy has killed me. I am dying, gentlemen, of joy.”</p> - -<p>They raised him between them. I ran for the priest, and to the doors, -which I shut to prevent the entrance of any intruders.</p> - -<p>“Master, whilst I confess, play to me,” he said to Bach.</p> - -<p>Bach, seeing that mortal aid was useless, left us, and went up to -the organ. Solemnly he played. He played, as he afterwards said, as -he never played before or since. The priest arrived, and Graun and I -knelt down whilst the Man in Blue received the last Sacraments. This -pious act accomplished, we went nearer to him. He took my hand, and -Graun rested the head of Bèze upon his breast. Solemnly the music stole -through the silent church; solemnly the sunlight streamed through the -stained windows, and the Angel of Death stood within the temple of God.</p> - -<p>“I am very happy,” murmured the dying man, “since Bach plays to me on -my organ, and Graun permits me to rest upon his bosom.”</p> - -<p>To me he said, “God bless thee, my child—tell them I was not mad, -nor an impostor. My organ had a soul.”</p> - -<p class="space-below3">Graun stooped and kissed his pale brow, and with an exquisite -look of gratitude the Man in Blue died, and the Angel of Death winged his way -to heaven, bearing the poor carpenter’s soul to God.—<i>Merry England.</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> - -<h2>LITERARY NOTICES.</h2> - -<ul class="index"> -<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">True, and Other Stories.</span> By George Parsons Lathrop.</li> -<li class="isub1">New York: <i>Funk & Wagnalls</i>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">Noble Blood.</span> A Novel. By Julian Hawthorne,</li> -<li class="isub1">author of “Sebastian Strome,” “Garth,” “Bressant,” etc.</li> -<li class="isub1">New York: <i>D. Appleton & Co.</i></li> - -<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">Prince Saroni’s Wife and the Pearl-Shell Necklace.</span></li> -<li class="isub1">By Julian Hawthorne. New York: <i>Funk & Wagnalls</i>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">Dr. Grattan.</span> A Novel. By William A. Hammond,</li> -<li class="isub1">author of “Lal.” New York: <i>D. Appleton & Co.</i></li> - -<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">The Old-Fashioned Fairy Book.</span> By Mrs. Burton Harrison.</li> -<li class="isub1">Illustrated by Rosina Emmet. New York: <i>Charles Scribner’s Sons</i>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">Katherine.</span> A Novel. By Susa B. Vance.</li> -<li class="isub1">Philadelphia: <i>J. B. Lippincott & Co.</i></li> - -<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">White Feathers.</span> By G. I. Cervus.</li> -<li class="isub1">Philadelphia: <i>J. B. Lippincott & Co.</i></li> -</ul> - -<p>Mr. Lathrop, whose little collection of stories heads this list of -recent fiction, is a young American author who is well and favorably -known as a writer of subtlety and penetration in the delineation -of character, as well as marked by a notable picturesqueness of -presentation. The volume before us, though by no means representative -of his best, has much of his characteristic quality, both on its -serious and comic sides. “True” is a tale of North Carolina life, the -scene being laid, for the most part, near Pamlico Sound. It has the -merit of being thoroughly an American story, though the basis for the -plot is laid in the separation of two English lovers in the early days -of American colonization, the lady going with her father to the new -world, her lover being at the last moment forced to remain in England, -never again to rejoin his sweetheart. From this separation and the -chance meeting, after two hundred years, of a descendant of the young -Englishman with representatives of his sweetheart’s line, Mr. Lathrop -weaves a tale of uncommon interest, and of much dramatic power. He -has struck perhaps the richest vein of romance that American history -affords, and the literary skill, and yet simplicity, with which he -improves his opportunity, are worthy of high commendation. The other -stories in the volume, “Major Barrington’s Marriage,” “Bad Peppers,” -“The Three Bridges,” and “In Each Other’s Shoes,” are good, each in its -own way, and afford a pleasant variety of excellent reading.</p> - -<p>Mr. Julian Hawthorne’s story of “Noble Blood” is a pleasant yet subtile -and quaint story, the scene of which is laid in Ireland. A young artist -becomes acquainted with a very beautiful woman whose ambition is to -link her own with noble blood. The hero of the story, who loves his new -friend, who, though of Irish birth and family, is descended from an -Italian merchant, discovers through a singular chain of circumstances -that the lady is the descendant of the noblest blood in Venice, her -so-called merchant forefather having been a great Venetian noble, who -was compelled to fly from his own land to escape the consequences of an -act of mad revenge. This strange revelation satisfies Miss Cadogna’s -desire for noble blood, and she contents herself with her plain lover. -Out of this simple yet quaint and dramatic material Mr. Hawthorne has -woven a singularly interesting little romance, in which the graver -elements are touched up by little flashes and strokes of humor. It is -a piece of good literary work and will add to the author’s reputation, -though it is by no means up to the author’s best level.</p> - -<p>As good as the foregoing novel is there is much stronger and subtler -work in “Prince Saroni’s Wife” and the “Pearl-Shell Necklace,” two -short stories that well illustrate Mr. Hawthorne’s peculiar power. -Each is of a tragical cast, and the latter especially has at times a -dramatic intensity that becomes almost painful. Mr. Hawthorne, as did -his father, embodies his most tragical conceptions in such simple and -direct language, that the spell wrought upon the reader does not pass -with the reading, but remains long after the book has been laid aside. -There is a psychological value, too, in Mr. Hawthorne’s work, which -rewards a close study of his characters. One feels that he is not a -mere story-teller, but, as well, an acute analyzer and a close student -of human nature in some of its most perplexing phases. “Prince Saroni’s -Wife” is the tale of an Italian prince, and “The Pearl-Shell Necklace” -is a story of American life. Both of them are well worth the reading, -and told with a clear-cut strength and directness which mark the writer -as a literary artist as well as a man of genius. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> - -<p>Dr. Hammond’s second novel, “Dr. Grattan,” is not equal to his first -in power, freshness, and dramatic sense, qualities which partly -redeemed the crudeness and extravagance of the latter book. “Lal” was -in many ways a notable work, and though the work of a prentice hand -in the art of novel-writing, had plenty of strength and vigor in it. -In “Dr. Grattan” one must confess to a feeling of disappointment, as -the story is a trifle dull, and none of the characters have any of the -<i>vraisemblance</i> of flesh and blood, except a few of the village loafers -and loungers, who haunt the village store of the Adirondack town, where -the scene of the story is placed. Dr. Grattan, the hero of the book, is -a middle aged country physician, who has one fair daughter, and who is -pictured to us as a noble specimen of a man, in his physical, mental, -and moral attributes. Mr. Lamar and his daughter Louise are personages -of a singular cast. The father is a monomaniac, though a gentleman and -a millionaire, and the daughter a superb and glorious woman, endowed -with all the noblest qualities of her sex. The main animus of the book -is apparently to show that a middle-aged country physician may have a -justifiable taste for novel-writing, to while away the intervals of -medical practice; and that he, if well-preserved and good-looking, even -if encumbered with a pretty daughter herself marriageable, may win the -superb and glorious woman before mentioned for a second wife. Both of -these points the author establishes to his own satisfaction. There is -enough material to make a very good story, but we do not think Dr. -Hammond handles it with as much skill and deftness as might be woven -into it. The style is slipshod and careless, and such as one might -fancy would be the instinctive method of an author who had rattled off -the matter at race-horse speed very much as a woman would reel off a -skein of worsted. One or two unpleasant faults are specially noticeable -in a minor way. One among them may be mentioned as a disposition to -sneer at novelists, who, whatever their faults of conception as to the -function of the novelist, rank deservedly high as master-artists in -style and finish of method. The questionable taste of such criticism, -under the circumstances, is very much such as would call forth -condemnation for Howells or James if they had the audacity to practice -medicine to the infinite peril of their fellow-beings, and then -satirize a skilful and experienced physician whose ability was widely -recognized. <i>Ne sutor ultra crepidem</i>, or, if he will insist, let not -the shoemaker use his last to measure the art of Apelles or Praxiteles.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burton Harrison’s “Old-Fashioned Fairy Book” is a collection -of fresh and charming fairy stories and middle-age myths happily -adapted to the taste and comprehension of young people. This lady has -discovered in the various examples of literary work, she has given the -public, fine artistic taste and facility. The present little volume -is a charming present for lads and lassies, and the stories told are -not such as the youngster finds in the ordinary book of fairy stories. -They are derived from out-of-the way sources, and though some of them -are rather grim for young people, they are on the whole sufficiently -healthy and cheerful for their purpose. The chief recommendation of -these selections is that they do not belong to the class of hackneyed -and conventional tales mostly utilized for fairy book-making. The -illustrations by Miss Rosina Emmet are spirited; graceful and appropriate.</p> - -<p class="space-below2">The last two novels mentioned in our list may be dismissed -with a few words as belonging to the eminently proper and virtuous school of -fiction, which demands that there shall be a certain fixed proportion -of such haranguing as would be ordinarily heard in a Sunday-school, -whatever other elements may be introduced to meet the tastes of the -novel-reading class. The excellent moral advice so freely scattered -throughout these novels we cordially commend as worthy to be pondered -and inwardly digested, but probably the average novel-reader would wish -for it in a different place. Yet there are novels and novels, just as -there are people and people, and it may be that there is a public for -just such productions as the above. It is with unqualified pleasure -that we commend these two volumes, “White Feathers” and “Katherine,” as -quite gorgeous specimens of bookbinding and cover designing in a cheap fashion.</p> - -<ul class="index"> -<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">Egypt and Babylon. From Sacred and Profane Sources.</span></li> -<li class="isub1">By George Rawlinson, M.A.,</li> -<li class="isub1">Camden Professor of Ancient History, Oxford.</li> -<li class="isub1">New York: <i>Charles Scribner’s Sons</i>.</li> -</ul> - -<p>This contribution to ancient history is a useful companion to Prof. -Sayce’s “Ancient Empires of the East,” recently published by the same -house. It is the work of one of the most noted of English scholars, and -he has brought all the latest researches to bear on the study of the -two great empires of Egypt and Babylonia, with whom the Jewish people -had most to do. The method of Prof. Rawlinson is to make the Biblical -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> -references to these two mighty nations the text or foundation of his -studies; and then to turn on the somewhat obscure and contradictory -accounts of the Sacred Records the fulness of light brought out of -archæological and linguistic research. The result is very happy, and -the Biblical student of the Old Testament will find in this book a -guide of the greatest value in clearly grasping the accounts of the -Biblical writers.</p> - -<ul class="index"> -<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">The Hundred Greatest Men:</span></li> -<li class="isub1"><span class="smcap">Portraits of the Hundred Greatest Men in History,</span></li> -<li class="isub1"><span class="smcap">Reproduced from Fine and Rare Steel-Engravings, with</span></li> -<li class="isub1"><span class="smcap">General Introduction by Ralph Waldo Emerson;</span></li> -<li class="isub2"><span class="smcap">and to Book I. by Matthew Arnold;</span></li> -<li class="isub2"><span class="smcap">to Book II. by H. Taine;</span></li> -<li class="isub2"><span class="smcap">to Book III. by Prof. Max Müller and Ernest Renan;</span></li> -<li class="isub2"><span class="smcap">to Book IV. by President Noah Porter;</span></li> -<li class="isub2"><span class="smcap">to Book V. by Very Rev. Dean Stanley;</span></li> -<li class="isub2"><span class="smcap">to Book VI. by Prof. H. Helmholtz; to Book VII. by J. A. Froude;</span></li> -<li class="isub2"><span class="smcap">and to Book VIII. by Prof. John Fiske.</span></li> -<li class="isub1">New York: <i>D. Appleton & Co.</i></li> -</ul> - -<p>The editor of this collection of pen portraits of the hundred -greatest men, informs us that the project is one side of an attempt -to view the history of the world as natural history. In this way he -conceives biography as the physiology of history just as archæology -is its anatomy. With this thought in mind Dr. William Wood has been -for fifteen years a collector of engraved portraits and antiquities -regarding them as historic documents. Out of this mass of material -he has given us the illustrations of the book, which consist of the -portraits of the great men, the primates of their race, while to -illustrate the portraits we have short, and, it need hardly be said, -meagre accounts of the men themselves, with a brief tabulation of -their work, and a condensed estimate of their place in the world’s -progress. The principal literary value of the book, we think, is to -be found in the prefaces or introductions to each department, with -the general introduction by Ralph Waldo Emerson. All of these are -written in a scholarly and able style, and will be read with as much -or even more interest than the biographical sketches themselves. -After all, we fancy the value of the work to most readers will be -accepted as pertaining to the portraits, which are reproduced in -a very artistic manner from old and rare engravings. These are of -great interest. In the biographical statements nothing but the barest -outline, not quite as much, in fact, as may be found in our best -cyclopædias, is attempted. The book is very handsomely printed and -manufactured, and is one of the best specimens of book-making which -we have recently seen.</p> - -<ul class="index"> -<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">Eve’s Daughters; or, Common-Sense for Maid, Wife and Mother.</span></li> -<li class="isub1">By Marian Harland, author of “Common-Sense in the Household.”</li> -<li class="isub1">New York: <i>Charles Scribner’s Sons</i>.</li> -</ul> - -<p>The author of this book is widely known, and her words respected in a -line of subjects peculiarly affecting the interests of her own sex. In -the new volume under notice she talks familiarly to her sex about those -matters where women need sound counsel more than elsewhere. It is in -the relations of wife and mother that her advice is the most urgent and -important. At a time when there is growing up among women of the better -class such a cruelly perverse view of the duties and responsibility of -their own sex, especially in relation to marriage and child-bearing, -the words of a wise, earnest and thoughtful woman are peculiarly -needed. Miss Harland speaks plainly, yet delicately, on such subjects, -and if her injunctions could be widely heeded the world would be better -off. It is a work to be specially and cordially recommended to young -women everywhere.</p> - -<ul class="index"> -<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">A Review of the Holy Bible, Containing the Old</span></li> -<li class="isub1"><span class="smcap">and New Testaments.</span> By Edward B. Latch.</li> -<li class="isub1">Philadelphia: <i>J. B. Lippincott & Co.</i></li> -</ul> - -<p>The author of this book, for we suppose he can be called an author who -rearranges and classifies the text of the Bible with a view to bringing -out better the inner meaning and purpose of the text, we are led to -judge is not a theologian by profession. But this does not commend his -work any the less. The unprofessional enthusiast, believing either that -he has some inner illumination, or convinced that he is working on the -lines of a finer and higher logic than is given to other men, is well -justified in encroaching on a field which by ordinary consent is given -up to professional scholars. Mr. Latch is evidently profoundly sure -that he has found esoteric meanings in the great Biblical cryptogram, -which reveal themselves clearly once the clew is given. The clew in -this case is a study of the Bible, taking the interpretations of St. -Paul as a starting-point and assuming a number of bases, according to -which these interpretations are classed. The whole attempt is curious -and interesting, and is likely to prove edifying to students of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> -Sacred Scriptures. Mr. Latch works out a curious historic psychology in -the sacred records, and his comments and glosses are highly ingenious -if not convincing. Of one thing we are sure. The author is convinced -that his mission is to make the purpose of the Bible clearer, more -consecutive and conclusive for the theology worked out of it by that -great codifier and lawgiver of Christian theology, St. Paul. This -modern coadjutor of the great apostle is saturated with the Pauline -theology, and yet some of his views are fresh and original, though -never at variance with those of his master, from whom he drinks at -the fountainhead. The quaint and ingenious interpretations which we -find scattered through these pages will repay reading, even when we -think his glosses forced and eccentric. To find a man in this age of -the world, after the raging of eighteen hundred years of exhaustive -religious and dogmatic controversy, who fancies that he has something -new and startling to say on the problems propounded in the Bible, is a -refreshing fact which should not go without brief comment.</p> - -<ul class="index"> -<li class="ifrst"><span class="smcap">The Elements of Moral Science, Theoretical and Practical.</span></li> -<li class="isub1">By Noah Porter, D.D., LL.D., President of Yale College.</li> -<li class="isub1">New York: <i>Charles Scribner’s Sons</i>.</li> -</ul> - -<p class="space-below3">The remarkable President of Yale College, whose name -is treasured up in the hearts of thousands of the alumni of Yale as one of -the wisest, most genial, and lovable of the many distinguished instructors -associated with the history of the college, gives us in this study of -ethics the ripe and mellowed fruit of his thought and work. For many -years President Porter was the professor of mental and moral philosophy -before he assumed the headship of the college. The substance of the -book before us was originally given in the shape of lectures before -the senior classes. We are told that the book is not designed for -a scientific treatise, but to meet the wants of those students and -readers who, though somewhat mature in their philosophical thinking and -disciplined in their mental habits, still require expanded definitions -and abundant illustrations involving more or less of repetition. -Dr. Porter has in his own line of investigation great clearness of -statement, and the power, perhaps growing out of the needs of the -class-room, of familiarizing and simplifying abstruse reasonings. -We find this strikingly illustrated in the book before us. It is -masterly in its lucidity of reasoning, and in its applications often so -practical as to make us feel that the object of the author is not -merely to lay bare the scientific theory of ethics, but to bring -its principles home to the heart and sympathy of his readers. As a -dialectical exposition the cut-and-dried philosopher who revels in the -abstract formulas of Kant, Hegel, Schopenhauer and others may find -occasion to criticise Dr. Porter’s methods. But to the general reader -the speculations of Dr. Porter will prove none the less interesting -because he brings them down to the sympathies and interests of men.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<h2>FOREIGN LITERARY NOTES.</h2> - -<p>Dr. Stratmann, the compiler of the excellent “Dictionary -of the Old English Language,” has died at Cologne at the age of sixty-two.</p> - -<p class="space-below1">The engagement is announced of Mr. G. E. Buckle, the editor -of the <i>Times</i>, to Miss Alice Payn, the third daughter of the distinguished -novelist and editor of the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i>.</p> - -<p class="space-below1">There is the unusual number of three vacancies at this -moment in the ranks of the French “Immortals.” Two of the seats, however, are -as good as filled by M. Joseph Bertrand and M. Victor Duruy. For the -third there are several candidates, of whom M. Ludovic Halévy is first -favorite. It was believed that M. Alphonse Daudet was standing, but he -has authorized the <i>Figaro</i> to say that he never has offered himself, -and never will offer himself to the Academy.</p> - -<p class="space-below1">A new novel by Georg Ebers, upon which he has been at -work for two years, is to be published at Christmas. The subject is taken from -the last struggles of Paganism against Christendom, and the scene is laid -in Egypt.</p> - -<p class="space-below1">The new and enlarged edition (the third) of Hermann Grimm’s -“Essays,” includes articles on Lord Byron and Leigh Hunt, Frederick the Great and -Macaulay, and Ralph Waldo Emerson.</p> - -<p class="space-below3">Henrik Ibsen’s “Vildanden” to which all Scandinavia has -been looking forward for months past, proves on the whole a disappointment to his -admirers. It is a five-act social satire, full of strong scenes and -pregnant sayings, and containing at least two masterly characters; but -there is no shirking the fact that as a drama it is ill-digested and -formless. Nor is the apologue of “The Wild Duck,” from which it takes -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> -its name, by any means so luminous or of such general application as -is commonly the case with this great satirist’s inventions. It will -certainly not add to the fame of the author of “A Doll’s House” and -“Ghosts.” Björnsen, too, in his new novel, “Det Flager,” is not at his -best. It is an earnest and well-meant protest against false delicacy -in education; but unfortunately it proves its author to be distinctly -deficient in true delicacy. The youngest of the three great Norwegian -poets, Alexander Kielland, has not yet issued his promised novel -“Fortuna,” but it is to be hoped that he may redeem the credit of a -season which has as yet proved by no means the <i>annus mirabilis</i> that -was anticipated.</p> - -<hr class="r25" /> -<h2>MISCELLANY.</h2> - -<p class="space-below1"><span class="smcap">Women as -Cashiers.</span>—The movement in favor of employing women in all -kinds of work that was formerly done by men only is one that should -be carried on with caution; for women and girls have sometimes been -put into situations for which their sex is unfit—the Government -clerkships in America for instance—and the result has been a -reaction against their employment in capacities where they are really -useful. But of all the posts to which women’s aptitudes are the least -open to question, that of cashier must be cited first. Women are -excellent money-keepers. While male cashiers form a grievously large -percentage among the prisoners brought to trial for embezzlement, -women and girls being seldom exposed to the same temptations as men -in the matter of dissipation, betting, gambling, or speculation, have -very rarely been known to misappropriate moneys entrusted to them. An -honest woman is very honest; “an honest man is too often,” as Lord -Palmerston bitterly said, “one who has never been tempted.” A man once -applied to an Italian banker for a cashiership, and was asked to state -his qualifications. “I have been ten years in prison,” he said, “and -so shall not mind being locked up in a room by myself, and having my -pockets searched when I go out and come in.” The banker admired his -impudence, took him at his word and used to say that he made a splendid -cashier. We are not affirming that antecedents like this rogue’s are -required to fit a man for a post of trust; but we do maintain that it -is very difficult to find a thoroughly trustworthy male cashier, even -among applicants provided with a mass of testimonials; whereas careful, -honest, and well-educated women, in whom full confidence can be placed, -exist in great numbers.—<i>Graphic.</i></p> - -<p class="space-below1"><span class="smcap">The House of Lords: Can -it be Reformed?</span>—We look to a second Chamber to improve -the work of the first, not simply to foil it. We do not expect to have -to do the work over again, as has been the case with nearly every -measure submitted to the ordeal of passing the House of Lords. Why is -this? How comes it to happen with a House in which, without doubt, -there are men of acknowledged capacity—men fully coming up to -the idea of what an assembly of notables should be—there is this -constantly recurring, mischievous meddling? How is it that beneficent -legislation has almost invariably had to be wrung from them, and that -an inordinate waste of time, coupled with an utterly unnecessary and -irritating friction, has been the result? An answer to these questions -is to be found in the fact that the members of the House of Lords feel -themselves entitled to legislate according to their own sweet will, -and without reference to the wishes or wants of the people of this -country. They look upon all political and social questions from the -point of view of their own order—an order which at the best must -be regarded as exclusive and privileged. This tendency is a perfectly -natural one, and they are to be no more blamed for exhibiting it than -any other class, whether rich or poor, professional or commercial, for -looking at matters from their own point of view. We must condemn the -system which not only enables the Lords to do this, but gives effect -to their views by according to them privileges for which practically -the country gets no return. We have no right to expect a Peer to place -himself outside his surroundings: we have a right to demand that the -needs of the many shall be preferred to the interests of the few. -Observe the tendency of those interests, and note one result, at least, -which is in itself productive of ill. The tendency among the Peers -towards the principles of Conservatism increases every year. Even Peers -who in the House of Commons were apparently sound Liberals rarely -maintained their strictly Liberal attitude; and where the original -possessor of the title proves true to his early faith, it is rarely -that his successor walks in his steps. The consequence is that the -Conservative majority in the House of Lords has for many years gone on -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> -steadily increasing, and the addition of fresh recruits does little to -stem the tide; one result of which is that a Liberal Ministry comes -into power very heavily handicapped; it has this hostile majority -always to contend with, and has to shape its measures, not so much -with an eye to the wants of the people, as to the possibility of -mollifying this majority. It further throws the burden of legislative -work on the House of Commons unduly, because a Liberal Ministry knows -full well that it will require the force of a large majority in the -Lower House to induce the Upper House even to consider its measures. -Much of the difficulty experienced in the House of Commons, by the -Government as well as by private Members, in getting their measures -passed, is due to that House being overworked; the reason of this -being that the other House does not get its fair share of work, owing -to its attitude towards all Liberal legislation. I am far from saying -that Conservatives, or Conservative Peers, have no sympathy with their -fellow-countrymen. But their feeling towards the masses is that of -desiring to act for them rather than of wishing to get them to act for -themselves; in other words they show a tendency to maintain the power -of beneficial legislation in their own hands, and not to entrust it -to those who are likely to feel its effects the most. It is this want -of confidence rather than a lack of sympathy which is so unfortunate. -It makes the Peers anxious to retain power in their own interests; -and thus their action in the House of Lords is taken without the -slightest sense of responsibility, or without the slightest pretence of -representing the views and wishes of the people at large. What, then, -is the remedy for all this? Clearly, to make the second Chamber truly a -representative one—representative of the great interests of the -people, of the State, of the empire.—<i>British Quarterly.</i></p> - -<p class="space-below1"><span class="smcap">A Revolving -Library.</span>—The idea of applying the principle of revolution -to simplify religious duties seems to have originated in the feeling -that since only the learned could acquire merit by continually reciting -portions of Buddha’s works, the ignorant and hard working were rather -unfairly weighted in life’s heavenward race. Thus it came to be -accounted sufficient that a man should turn over each of the numerous -rolled manuscripts containing the precious precepts, and considering -the multitude of these voluminous writings, the substitution of this -simple process must have been very consolatory. Max Müller has told -us how the original documents of the Buddhist canon were first found -in the monasteries of Nepaul, and soon afterwards further documents -were discovered in Thibet and Mongolia, the Thibetan canon consisting -of two collections, together comprising 333 volumes folio. Another -collection of the Wisdom of Buddha was brought from Ceylon, covering -14,000 palm leaves, and written partly in Singalese and partly in -Burmese characters. Nice light reading! From turning over these -manuscripts by hand, to the simple process of arranging them in a huge -cylindrical bookcase, and turning that bodily, was a very simple and -ingenious transition; and <i>thus the first circulating library came into -existence</i>!—<i>Contemporary Review.</i></p> - -<p class="space-below1"><span class="smcap">A Child’s -Metaphors.</span>—The early use of names by children seems to -illustrate the play of fancy almost as much as the activity of thought. -In sooth, have not thought and imagination this in common, that they -both combine elements of experience in new ways, and both trace out the -similarities of things? The poet’s simile is not so far removed from -the scientific discoverer’s new idea. Goethe the poet readily became -Goethe the morphologist, detecting analogies in structures which to the -common eye were utterly unlike. The sweet attractiveness of baby-speech -is due in no small measure to its highly pictorial and metaphorical -character. Like the primitive language of the race, that of the child -is continually used as a vehicle for poetical comparison. The child -and the poet have this in common, that their minds are not fettered by -all the associations and habits of mind which lead us prosaic persons -to separate things by absolutely insuperable barriers. In their case -imagination darts swiftly, like a dragon-fly, from object to object, -ever discovering beneath a surface-dissimilarity some unobtrusive -likeness. A child is apt to puzzle its elders by these swift movements -of its mind. It requires a certain poetic element in a parent to follow -the lead of the daring child-fancy, and it is probable that many a fine -perception of analogy by children has been quite thrown away on the -dull and prejudiced minds of their seniors. To give an example of this -metaphorical use of words by the child: C. when eighteen months old was -one day watching his sister as she dipped her crust into her tea. He -was evidently surprised by the rare sight, and after looking a moment -or two, exclaimed “Ba!” (bath), laughing with delight, and trying, as -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> -was his wont when deeply interested in a spectacle, to push his -mother’s face round so that she too might admire it. The boy delighted -in such figurative use of words, now employing them as genuine -similes, as when he said of a dog panting after a run, “Dat bow-wow -like puff-puff” and of the first real ship he saw sailing, “Dat ship -go majory daw” (<i>i.e.</i> like marjory-daw in the nursery rhyme). Like -many a poet he has had his recurring or standing metaphors. Thus, as -we have seen, “ship” was the figurative expression for all objects -having a pyramidal form. A pretty example of his love of metaphor was -his habit of calling the needle in a small compass of his father’s -“bir” (bird). It needs a baby-mind to detect the faint resemblance to -the bird form and the bird movement here. The same tendency of the -child-mind to view things metaphorically or by the aid of analogies to -what is already familiar, shows itself in the habit of personifying -natural objects. It has been said by a living philosopher that children -do not attribute life, thought, and purpose to inanimate things; but -observation of their use of words is, I think, decidedly against -this view. C. had a way from a very early date of looking at natural -objects as though by their actions they specially aimed at affecting -his well-being. Thus he would show all the signs of kingly displeasure -when his serenity of mind was disturbed by noises. When, for example, -he was taken to the seaside (about when twenty months old), he greatly -disappointed his parent, expectant of childish wonder in his eyes by -merely muttering “Water make noise.” Again, he happened one day in the -last week of his second year to be in the garden with his father while -it was thundering. On hearing the sound he said with an evident tone -of annoyance, “Tonna mâ Ninghi noi,” <i>i.e.</i> thunder makes noise for -C., and he instantly added, “Notty tonna!” (naughty thunder). He was -falling into that habit of mind against which philosophers have often -warned us, making man the measure of the universe. The idea that the -solemn roar of thunder was specially designed to disturb the peace of -mind of so diminutive a person seems no doubt absurd enough; yet how -many of us are altogether free from the same narrow, vain, egoistic -way of looking out into the vast and boundless cosmos?—<i>English -Illustrated Magazine.</i></p> - -<p class="space-below1"><span class="smcap">Has England a School -of Musical Composition?</span>—We suppose the question must -be answered in the affirmative; but with the knowledgment that the -insularity of England reduces the idea to a minimum. Our insular -position is a natural obstacle to the complete development of our -music. We pursue music with all activity, but that of itself is but -the physique, as it were, of vitality. It is an evident truth that, -besides that the artistic and intellectual development of this great -human art necessitates a wide area for its growth, its vital or -emotional being demands a more southern country than England. Central -Europe is the seat of music’s history. Our aspirations, intelligent -activity, and association with the Continent, lead to our reflecting -the workmanship of southern art in our serious compositions; this is -not a struggle, as that to find vitality, but an achievement. This -stage of imitation greatly characterizes modern English music effort. -Even Arthur Sullivan, our modern land Dibdin, shows the intellectual -side of his genius in imitation. The great mass of our modern melody -is too conscious of structure to be true, too sentimental to be real. -These are relative descriptions, but the whole condition of English -music is relative. The musical faculty—the spontaneous creation -of music is national—is natural, yet is not equally developed. -Individual instances of its truthful, vital, genuine (whatever -expression signifies relationship to southern developments) existence -in our history are so rare and isolated, that we might surely wonder -how they came to be, and the influence of their example on us has had -proportionately small consequences. But the typical English activity -and work—which is quite another thing—goes on. We may -certainly allow a national style of English Church music in the past, -but must remember that religion was its <i>raison d’être</i>—a wider -development of music was absent. Thus, in asking ourselves if we have -or have not a school of English music—taking “school” to mean -the mould of music’s expression determined by the circumstances and -men of the time—we must acknowledge that, though we doubtless -have something of the sort, it is only in the slightest degree -perceptible.—<i>Musical Opinion.</i></p> - -<p class="space-below1"><span class="smcap">Booty in -War.</span>—Charles, as soon as he had finished conquering -Lorraine, gathered his host at Besançon, and marched to Granson on the -Neuchâtel Lake. Here a garrison of 500 Swiss was betrayed to him; he -hanged or drowned every man of them, including the monks who came as -chaplains. Justly enraged, the Federation gathered its whole strength, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> -and with 24,000 men fell upon Charles unawares and defeated him -utterly. The booty was something fabulous; Burgundy, taking taxes from -all the rich Netherland towns, was then the richest Power in Europe. -The spoil was valued at a quarter of a million. You may calculate what -that would be worth now. The big diamonds—one is now in the Pope’s -tiara, another was long the glory of the French regalia—were among -the valuables. The Duke’s throne was valued at 11,000 gulden; all his -plate, his silver bedstead, his wonderfully illuminated prayer-book, -were taken, besides 1,000,000 gulden in his treasure chest, 10,000 -horses, and a proportionate quantity of all kinds of stores. No wonder -the Swiss never recovered Granson; there were long and bitter quarrels -about the division of the booty, and the coming in of so much wealth -amongst a simple people demoralised them sadly, and led the way to -their becoming the chief mercenaries of Europe.—<i>Good Words.</i></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Sir Henry Bessemer.</span>—Among his early -contrivances may be noted a method by which basso-relievos were copied -on cardboard, and also a machine for producing bronze-dust at a low -price. Knowing well the inefficiency of the Patent Laws, Bessemer was -careful to conduct his operations as secretly as possible, and the -manufacture of gold bronze powder is still invested with much of the -mystery of mediæval alchemy. After inventing a system for improving -the Government stamps on deeds and other documents, so as to render -forgery impossible, saving the country several millions (for which he -received no reward or acknowledgment whatever from the Government), he -submitted to the authorities at Woolwich a novel form of projectile. -On its rejection in England he exhibited it to the emperors of France -and Austria, who acknowledged its value, and gave the inventor every -assistance for its improvement. It was incidentally remarked, however, -that some stronger metal than any then in use would be necessary -for the construction of the guns, to enable them to resist so heavy -a charge. It is said that this remark first led Bessemer to turn -his attention to the improvement of the method of smelting iron. He -established and maintained at his own expense a foundry in the north -of London, where he continued for several years to expend nearly the -whole of his private fortune. At length, in 1856, at the Cheltenham -meeting of the British Association, the scientific world was startled, -and almost a panic created at Birmingham, by the announcement of the -discovery of the process, since known as the Bessemer process, which -was to effect a revolution in the metal industry. The invention, -however, remained incomplete till the year 1859, when it first -began to be adopted by the Sheffield and Birmingham manufacturers. -Recent improvements—more particularly the Gilchrist-Thomas -process—have since greatly increased its value and removed, or at -least diminished, its earlier defects. Bessemer steel is now used for -every purpose in “hardware,” and has almost entirely supplanted wrought -iron. For rails it has proved invaluable. Then its extreme tenacity and -toughness render it most suitable for the purposes of ship-building -and boiler construction. It has been adopted by Krupp in Prussia, and -Elpstrand in Sweden, for the manufacture of their celebrated ordnance; -and even Sir William Armstrong, in designing his coiled steel guns, -resorted to the Bessemer metal. Mr. W. D. Allen, of Sheffield, who was -the first to adopt the process practically and commercially, declared -recently that he had made every conceivable article with the metal, -from an intermediate crank shaft to a corkscrew or table-knife. In -1878 a Commission of the Admiralty adopted Bessemer steel as the most -serviceable material for anchors. The inventions of Sir Henry Bessemer -are embodied in no less than 114 patents, and the drawings of these -alone, all from his own pencil, fill seven volumes. Some of these -refer to the casting of printing types, and various improvements in -the management of a type foundry; to railway brakes; to the improved -manufacture of glass; the silvering of glass; to improved apparatus in -sugar refining; and to producing ornamental surfaces on leather and -textile fabrics. In 1875 he invented the <i>Bessemer</i> saloon steamer for -preventing sea-sickness. A company was formed, he himself subscribing -£25,000 towards the capital, but unfortunately it failed. The institute -of Civil Engineers was the first body to recognise the merits of Mr. -Bessemer’s work, and in 1858 conferred upon him the Telford gold medal. -The interposition of the British Government prevented him receiving -from the Emperor Napoleon III. the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor. -From the Emperor of Austria he received the Cross of a Knight Commander -of Francis Joseph. In 1871, he was elected President of the Iron and -Steel Institute, and in the following year was awarded the Albert -Gold Medal by the Society of Arts. In 1879 he was elected a Fellow -of the Royal Society, and a few months afterwards was knighted at -Windsor.—<i>Science.</i></p> - -<div class="transnote bbox"> -<p class="f120 space-above1">Transcriber Notes:</p> -<hr class="r25" /> -<p class="indent">Uncertain or antiquated spellings or ancient words were not corrected.</p> -<p class="indent">Errors in punctuation and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected - unless otherwise noted.</p> -<p class="indent">Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations - in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="f150"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></p> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"> -<span class="label">[1]</span></a> -The best summary of the benefits which the Christian -religion has historically wrought for mankind is, I think, to be -found in that eloquent book “Gesta Christi,” by the great American -philanthropist, Mr. Charles Brace.</p> - -<p>The author has made no attempt to delineate the shadowy side of the -glowing picture, the evils of superstition and persecution wherewith -men have marred those benefits.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"> -<span class="label">[2]</span></a> -He says: “The leading doctrines of theology are noble and glorious;” -and he acknowledges that people who were able to accept them are -“ennobled by their creed.” They are “carried above and beyond the petty -side of life; and if the virtue of propositions depended, not upon the -evidence by which they may be supported, but their intrinsic beauty -and utility, they might vindicate their creed against all others” (p. -917). To some of us the notion of “noble and glorious” <i>fictions</i> -is difficult to accept. The highest thought of our poor minds, -whatever it be, has surely <i>as such</i> some presumption in favor of its -truth.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"> -<span class="label">[3]</span></a> -“Agnostic Morality,” <span class="smcap">Contemporary Review</span>, June, 1883.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"> -<span class="label">[4]</span></a> -British tonnage increased from 4,272,962 in 1850 to -5,710,968 in 1860; American tonnage from 3,485,266 in 1850 to 5,297,177 -in 1860. On the 30th of June, 1883, twenty years after the civil war, -American tonnage stood at 4,235,487!</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"> -<span class="label">[5]</span></a> -“The poet doubtless here refers to his Priory of St. -Cosme-en-l’Isle; of which, Duperron, in his funeral oration on Ronsard, -has said: ‘This Priory is placed in a very agreeable situation on the -banks of the river Loire, surrounded by thickets, streams, and all -the natural beauties which embellish Touraine, of which it is, as it -were, the eye and the charm.’ Ronsard, in fact, returned thither to -die.”—Sainte-Beuve, ‘Poésie Française au XVI<sup>e</sup>. Siècle’ -(Paris, 1869), p. 307.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"> -<span class="label">[6]</span></a> -I give a brief sketch of this in my book, -“La Prusse et l’Autriche depuis Sadowa,” vol. i., p. 265.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"> -<span class="label">[7]</span></a> -“It is absolutely necessary for Dalmatia to become connected with -Bosnia. As a Montenegrin guide one day remarked to Miss Muir -Mackenzie, ‘Dalmatia without Bosnia, is like a face without a head, -and Bosnia without Dalmatia is a head without a face.’ There being no -communication between the Dalmatian ports and the inland villages, -the former with their fine names are but unimportant little towns -stripped of all their former splendor. For instance, Ragusa, formerly -an independent Republic, has a population of 6,000 inhabitants; Zara -9,000; Zebeniko 6,000; and Cattaro, situated in the most lovely bay in -Europe, and with a natural basin sufficiently spacious to accommodate -the navy of all Europe, has but 2,078 inhabitants. In several of -these impoverished cities, beggars have taken up their abode in the -ancient palaces of the princes of commerce, and the lion of St. Mark -overlooks these buildings falling into ruins. This coast, which has -the misfortune to adjoin a Turkish province, will never regain its -former position until good roads and railways have been constructed -between its splendid ports and the fertile inland territory, whose -productiveness is at present essentially hampered by the vilest -imaginable administration.”—<i>La Prusse et l’Autriche depuis -Sadowa</i>, ii. p. 151. 1868.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"> -<span class="label">[8]</span></a> Lives of the Archbishops, iii, 76.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"> -<span class="label">[9]</span></a> Camden’s Britannia.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"> -<span class="label">[10]</span></a> Church History, Book IV. I.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"> -<span class="label">[11]</span></a> Ibid., Book III. century xiii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"> -<span class="label">[12]</span></a> Causa Dei—the title of Bradwardine’s great work.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"> -<span class="label">[13]</span></a> -A Catalogue of the Bishops of England, by Francis Godwin, now Bishop of Landaff: 1615.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"> -<span class="label">[14]</span></a> -Cotton’s Abridgment of Records, p. 102, quoted by Lewis, in his Life of Wycliffe, p. 19.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"> -<span class="label">[15]</span></a> -See Milman’s Latin Christianity, Book XIII. chap. vi, and the document -itself as given in the Appendix (No. 30) to the Life of Wycliffe, by -Lewis.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"> -<span class="label">[16]</span></a> -See Lewis’s Life of Wycliffe, p. 55, and Foxe’s Acts and Monuments, vol. i. p. 584.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"> -<span class="label">[17]</span></a> -The date of this meeting has not been determined with certainty.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"> -<span class="label">[18]</span></a> Fuller‘s Church History, Book IV. cent. xiv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"> -<span class="label">[19]</span></a> -Milton‘s Speech for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"> -<span class="label">[20]</span></a> Milman‘s Latin Christianity, Book XIII. chap. iv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"> -<span class="label">[21]</span></a> -See the Document itself in Lewis‘s Life of Wycliffe, pp. 59-67.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"> -<span class="label">[22]</span></a> -Shirley‘s Introduction to Fasciculi Zizaniorum, p. 49.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"> -<span class="label">[23]</span></a> -Wycliffe‘s Place in History, by Professor Burrows, p. 101.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"> -<span class="label">[24]</span></a> Trialogus, iv. cap. ii., Oxford, p. 248.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"> -<span class="label">[25]</span></a> -See these as given by Lewis—Conclusiones J. Wiclefi de Sacramento Altaris, Appendix No. 19, p. 318, ed. 1820.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"> -<span class="label">[26]</span></a> -Confessio Magistri Johannes Wycclyff. See Appendix No. 21 in Lewis. Of -this confession the concluding words are—“Credo, quod finaliter -veritas vincet eos.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"> -<span class="label">[27]</span></a> -Lechler‘s John Wycliffe and his Precursors, vol. ii. p. 193.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"> -<span class="label">[28]</span></a> Latin Christianity, Book XIII. chap. vi.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"> -<span class="label">[29]</span></a> “How Servants and Lords shall keep their -degrees.” See Lewis, pp. 224, 225.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"> -<span class="label">[30]</span></a> Godwin’s Catalogue of the Bishops of England, 1615.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"> -<span class="label">[31]</span></a> -Cromp became some time after this a zealous preacher of the doctrines maintained by Wycliffe.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"> -<span class="label">[32]</span></a> -See Milman. See also the Petition itself in Select English Works of -John Wycliffe, vol. iii. edited by Thomas Arnold.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"> -<span class="label">[33]</span></a> Godwin’s Catalogue of the Bishops of England.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"> -<span class="label">[34]</span></a> Fuller’s Church History, Book IV. cent. xiv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"> -<span class="label">[35]</span></a> -Wycliffe’s Latin Works, edited for the Wycliffe Society by Dr. Buddensieg, vol. ii. pp. 555, 556.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"> -<span class="label">[36]</span></a> Introduction to Fasc. Zizan., p. 44.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"> -<span class="label">[37]</span></a> -In so far as the printing of this work is concerned, the reproach -of England was wiped off by the Clarendon Press in 1869; but -it was a German, Dr. Lechler, who edited this great work, the “Trialogus.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"> -<span class="label">[38]</span></a> Shirley, Introduction to Fasc. Zizan., p. 47.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"> -<span class="label">[39]</span></a> -Shirley’s Catalogue of the Original Works of John Wycliffe. Preface, p. 6, Oxford: 1865.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"> -<span class="label">[40]</span></a> Milman’s Latin Christianity, Book XIII. chap. vi.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"> -<span class="label">[41]</span></a> -Illustrium Majoris Britanniæ Scriptorum Summarium in Quasdam Centurias Divisum.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"> -<span class="label">[42]</span></a> -Select English Works of John Wycliffe. Introduction, vol. iii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"> -<span class="label">[43]</span></a> -This is the first of “the most rare and refined works” that -collectively make ‘The Phœnix Nest,’ published in 1593. Reprinted in -vol. ii. of ‘Heliconia,’ edited by T. Park, 1815. The preface bears a -marked resemblance to the famous epilogue to 2 Henry IV.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"> -<span class="label">[44]</span></a> -Shirley: Preface to a Catalogue of the Original Works of -John Wycliffe. The “Trialogus” must have been written, some have it, -between 1382 and 1384. This is shown by Vaughan and Lechler.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"> -<span class="label">[45]</span></a> Knighton, quoted by Dr. Buddensieg.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"> -<span class="label">[46]</span></a> -The Holy Bible, containing the Old and New Testaments, with the -Apocryphal Books, in the earliest English versions, made from the Latin -Vulgate, by John Wycliffe and his followers. Edited by the Rev. Josiah -Forshall and Sir Frederick Madden. In four volumes. Oxford—at the -University Press: 1850.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47_47"> -<span class="label">[47]</span></a> -Bar. iii. 20. The last words are “in place of them. The young ...” -rendered in the Geneva version—“Other men are come up in their -steads. When they were young they saw the light.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48_48"> -<span class="label">[48]</span></a> -Forshall and Madden’s edition of Wycliffe’s Bible. Preface, pp. 17, 18.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49_49"> -<span class="label">[49]</span></a> Godwin’s Catalogue of the Bishops of England.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50_50"> -<span class="label">[50]</span></a> Fuller, Book IV. cent. xv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51_51"> -<span class="label">[51]</span></a> -Wycliffe and Hus. From the German of Dr. Johann Loserth, -Professor of History at the University of Czernowitz. 1884.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52_52"> -<span class="label">[52]</span></a> Luther’s Preface to the Letters of Hus.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53_53"> -<span class="label">[53]</span></a> See Epilogue to Henry IV. Part II.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54_54"> -<span class="label">[54]</span></a> -Hallam’s Constitutional History of England, chap. ii. 57, 58, 6th ed.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55_55"> -<span class="label">[55]</span></a> -Knox’s History of the Reformation in Scotland, being volume first -of his Works, collected and edited by David Laing. Edinburgh, 1846.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56_56"> -<span class="label">[56]</span></a> Shirley’s Introduction to Fasc. Zizan., pp. 45, 46.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"> -<span class="label">[57]</span></a> Speed’s Chronicle, p. 672—ed. 1632.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58_58"> -<span class="label">[58]</span></a> -Preface to A Catalogue of the Original Works of John Wycliffe: 1865.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59_59"> -<span class="label">[59]</span></a> M’Crie’s Life of John Knox, Period I.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60_60"> -<span class="label">[60]</span></a> Milton, Paradise Lost, Book VI.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61_61"> -<span class="label">[61]</span></a> -<i>A True Account of the Rye House Plot</i>, by Thomas Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, 1685.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62_62"> -<span class="label">[62]</span></a> -<i>State papers, Charles II.</i>, June 1683—“A Particular Account of the Situation of the Rye House.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63_63"> -<span class="label">[63]</span></a> -<i>Rye House Papers.</i> Examination of Robert West of the Middle Temple. A -special collection among the State Papers. It may be remembered that -when this collection was examined an original treatise of Milton was -discovered among the documents—a find which led to Macaulay’s -essay on Milton.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64_64"> -<span class="label">[64]</span></a> -<i>Rye House Papers.</i> Examination of Josiah Keeling and Robert West.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65_65"> -<span class="label">[65]</span></a> Ibid.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66_66"> -<span class="label">[66]</span></a> -<i>Rye House Papers.</i> Examination of Josiah Keeling and Robert West.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67_67"> -<span class="label">[67]</span></a> Ibid.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68_68"> -<span class="label">[68]</span></a> -<i>Rye House Papers.</i> Examination of Josiah Keeling and Robert West.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_69_69" id="Footnote_69_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_69_69"> -<span class="label">[69]</span></a> Ibid. Examination of Thomas Shepherd.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_70_70" id="Footnote_70_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70_70"> -<span class="label">[70]</span></a> -Rye House Papers. Examination of Robert West and Josiah Keeling.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_71_71" id="Footnote_71_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_71_71"> -<span class="label">[71]</span></a> -<i>Rye House Papers.</i> Examination of Robert West and Zachary Bourn.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_72_72" id="Footnote_72_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_72_72"> -<span class="label">[72]</span></a> -<i>Rye House Papers.</i> Examination of Lord Howard, Alexander Gordon, and Robert West.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_73_73" id="Footnote_73_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_73_73"> -<span class="label">[73]</span></a> -<i>Rye House Papers.</i> Examination of Col. Romsey and Robert West.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_74_74" id="Footnote_74_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_74_74"> -<span class="label">[74]</span></a> -He was in fact a “recluse” in the ancient and proper sense of the -term. For in the Bishop’s time it still remained customary, after an -imposing ceremony, literally to seal and shut up by the hands of a -bishop those—men or women—who elected to be recluses, in a -small chamber built for the purpose close to the wall of some church -with an opening inwards that the immured tenant might hear the service -and receive necessary subsistence. We are told, for example, by St. -Foix that Agnes de Rochier, the beautiful daughter of a rich tradesman, -commenced such a life at the church of St. Opportune, in Paris, on the -5th of October, 1403, and though then of only eighteen years, lived in -this hermetic state till the ripe enough age of eighty.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p> -<a name="Footnote_75_75" id="Footnote_75_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_75_75"> -<span class="label">[75]</span></a> -It was observed by Scott of Amwell, a critic of the verbal -school, but not without his soundness, and junior to Collins by nine -years, that the Oriental Eclogues, which appeared in 1742, were “always -possessed of considerable reputation,” till Johnson “having hinted -that Collins, once in conversation with a friend, happened to term -them his <i>Irish</i> Eclogues, those who form opinions not from their own -reason or their own feelings, but from the hints of others,” caught the -hint and circulated it. “That Collins,” he adds, “ever supposed his -eclogues destitute of merit there is no reason to believe; but it is -very probable, when his judgment was improved by experience, he might -discover and be hurt by their faults, among which may possibly be found -some few instances of inconsistence or absurdity.”</p></div> -</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eclectic Magazine of Foreign -Literature, Science, and Art, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ECLECTIC MAGAZINE *** - -***** This file should be named 53228-h.htm or 53228-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/2/2/53228/ - -Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Paul Marshall and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/53228-h/images/cbl-3.jpg b/old/53228-h/images/cbl-3.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 6adebc6..0000000 --- a/old/53228-h/images/cbl-3.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53228-h/images/cbr-3.jpg b/old/53228-h/images/cbr-3.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e3281eb..0000000 --- a/old/53228-h/images/cbr-3.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53228-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/53228-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 22c89a4..0000000 --- a/old/53228-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53228-h/images/masthead.jpg b/old/53228-h/images/masthead.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d80085c..0000000 --- a/old/53228-h/images/masthead.jpg +++ /dev/null |
