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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, Volume XLI, No. 5, May 1885 - -Author: Various - -Release Date: December 20, 2016 [EBook #53772] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ECLECTIC MAGAZINE *** - - - - -Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Les Galloway and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</span></p> - -<div class="transnote"> -<p>Transcriber’s note: table of contents added by the transcriber.</p> -</div> - -<p class="toc"> - -<a href="#THE_POLITICAL_SITUATION_OF_EUROPE">THE POLITICAL SITUATION OF EUROPE.</a><br /> -<a href="#ORGANIC_NATURES_RIDDLE">ORGANIC NATURE’S RIDDLE.</a><br /> -<a href="#A_VERY_OLD_MASTER">A VERY OLD MASTER.</a><br /> -<a href="#THE_ORGANIZATION_OF_DEMOCRACY">THE ORGANIZATION OF DEMOCRACY.</a><br /> -<a href="#SIR_WILLIAM_SIEMENS8">SIR WILLIAM SIEMENS.</a><br /> -<a href="#A_FRENCH_DRAMA_UPON_ABELARD">A FRENCH DRAMA UPON ABELARD.</a><br /> -<a href="#THE_UNITY_OF_THE_EMPIRE">THE UNITY OF THE EMPIRE.</a><br /> -<a href="#ODD_QUARTERS">ODD QUARTERS.</a><br /> -<a href="#SIR_TRISTRAM_DE_LYONESSE">SIR TRISTRAM DE LYONESSE.</a><br /> -<a href="#OLD_MYTHOLOGY_IN_NEW_APPAREL">OLD MYTHOLOGY IN NEW APPAREL.</a><br /> -<a href="#OUTWITTED">OUTWITTED.</a><br /> -<a href="#THE_BANK_OF_ENGLAND">THE BANK OF ENGLAND.</a><br /> -<a href="#EXPLORATION_IN_A_NEW_DIRECTION">EXPLORATION IN A NEW DIRECTION.</a><br /> -<a href="#A_RUSSIAN_PHILOSOPHER_ON_ENGLISH_POLITICS">A RUSSIAN PHILOSOPHER ON ENGLISH POLITICS.</a><br /> -<a href="#BLACKSTONE">BLACKSTONE.</a><br /> -<a href="#LITERARY_NOTICES">LITERARY NOTICES.</a><br /> -<a href="#FOREIGN_LITERARY_NOTES">FOREIGN LITERARY NOTES.</a><br /> -<a href="#MISCELLANY">MISCELLANY.</a><br /> -</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/masthead.jpg" alt="Masthead" /> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h1> -Eclectic Magazine<br /> - -<span class="xs">OF</span><br /> - -<small>FOREIGN LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART</small>.</h1> - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<col width="30%" /><col width="40%" /><col width="30%" /> -<tr> - <td align="center" colspan="3"><img src="images/001.jpg" alt="――――――" /></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td align="center"><small>New Series.<br />Vol. XLI., No. 5.</small></td> - <td align="center">MAY, 1885.</td> - <td align="center"><small>Old Series complete<br />in 63 vols.</small></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td align="center" colspan="3"><img src="images/001.jpg" alt="――――――" /></td> -</tr> -</table></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<h2><a name="THE_POLITICAL_SITUATION_OF_EUROPE" id="THE_POLITICAL_SITUATION_OF_EUROPE">THE POLITICAL SITUATION OF EUROPE.</a><br /> - -<small>BY F. NOBILI-VITELLESCHI, SENATOR OF ITALY.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">2</span></p> - - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<p>It is a matter worthy of consideration -why the progress which is in our time so -unexpectedly rapid in all which concerns -the physical world, should be so -slow, or rather so limited, in the sphere -of morals. We might almost say that, -like a line ascending in a spiral form, -progress can in each historical period -only be made within the given orbit in -which the period itself revolves.</p> - -<p>With respect to the two principal -questions which interest mankind in its -complex—that is, in its political and social—existence, -the orbit in which the -historical period preceding our own -revolved, as far as politics are concerned, -circled round what we may term -the State, although this does not precisely -correspond to our present conception -of the word; and socially it re<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span>volved -round an absolute system of proprietorship, -together with the rights and -duties which were to a varying extent -attached to it, and which included a relative -and practically obsolete exercise -of charitable customs.</p> - -<p>That which was called a State was not -always a combination which had, in accordance -with the modern conception, -the public welfare as its sole and supreme -object, but it generally depended -on certain rights which had their origin -in facts of extreme antiquity. These -combinations were of two kinds. The -most usual, which was indeed almost -universal in Europe, was the monarchy, -in which a given family governed and represented -the interests of a more or less -extensive number of peoples, which in -virtue of ancient rights, of conquests, of -treaties, or in any other way belonged -to her. In a few rare instances these<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span> -monarchies were elective, and the rulers, -who were elected by a college, a caste, -or in some other manner, found themselves -in the same conditions as hereditary -sovereigns. The least common, -but not the least important and successful, -form of government was that of the -communities which governed themselves. -But even this form relied for its existence -on the same elements as the monarchies—that -is, on rights, conquests, -and treaties, or similar reasons—on -which alone the political state of Europe -was based up to the year 1815.</p> - -<p>By this we mean that up to 1815 no -right was recognised in political life except -that which derived its origin from -some fact or facts which were supposed -to constitute rights, such as successions, -conquests, concessions, or gifts. Spain, -in virtue of one or other of these titles, -ruled the Low Countries and the kingdom -of Naples, nor did it occur to any -one to discuss the fitness of this strange -aggregation of different peoples, united -in a single State. It would be tedious -to cite all the instances of curious combinations -to which the ancient European -rights gave rise. Although they -had a tendency to dissolve under the -influence of recent times, yet the system -was maintained up to 1815, the date of -the last great treaty which was made on -this basis, and of which the effect remained -up to 1845.</p> - -<p>Throughout this protracted period, of -which the beginning is confounded with -that of European civilisation, a certain -progress did, however, take place in the -conditions of European society, which -advanced from the capitulations of -Charles the Great to the English Great -Charter, from arbitrary decrees to the -statutes of the republic of Florence, and -finally, to the legislative acts of Joseph -the Second in Austria, of Leopold in -Tuscany, Charles the Third in the kingdom -of Naples, and of all the contemporary -governments which uttered their -last word on such progress as was possible -to politicians of that period, and -which consisted in adapting as far as -possible the inflexible exigencies of ancient -rights to the necessities of modern -facts, and in inducing those who governed -by divine right to consider the interests -of the people. But this was only -up to a certain point, and the relative<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span> -conditions of the governors and the governed -did not cease to be the basis of -European policy.</p> - -<p>Speaking of these things at this day -is like speaking of another world. A -State which is not governed in the interests -of those of whom it consists -would be a tyranny. It is held to be an -iniquity to hold a people subject to a -rule which is independent of ethnographical, -geographical, or economical -considerations, and such a people would -be considered justified in throwing off -the yoke, if possible. A war undertaken -to maintain a purely dynastic title would -be regarded as an intolerable burden, to -which no nation is bound to submit.</p> - -<p>The arguments which are used to stigmatise -and condemn the old system as -unjust and out of date are naturally -derived from its evils, dangers, and inconveniences. -The people were subject -to laws, taxation, and wars, for causes -which did not concern them, and which -for that very reason multiplied without -control. The Thirty Years’ War and -the War of Succession cut down whole -peoples, not for their own benefit, but in -order to decide to whom they should -belong. A permanent state of war appeared -to be the inevitable result of the -conflagration of all these rights, which -were contested at the expense of the -happiness of peoples. Meanwhile science -had changed the basis of rights, and the -famous principles of 1789, which had -their birth in the intoxication of the -nascent revolution and were nourished -by the blood of its maturer age, found -their way into codes and constitutions. -The old system, condemned both in -theory and practice, was anathematised -by the rising generation, which claimed -to have discovered the secret of true -policy, and the grand panacea for all the -evils of humanity.</p> - -<p>Nor was it otherwise with social questions. -The conception that every man -might do what he pleased with his own, -and might transmit it to others both -before and after his death, was more or -less present in the constitution of all -civil societies. But this system deprived -of the enjoyments of life all those -who were unable to acquire property for -themselves, and to whom no one could -or would transmit it. In one word, in -this system there were no official disposi<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span>tions -for the poor, who nevertheless -constitute the eternal problem of human -society. In fact, money enough for -the permanent and complete relief of the -poor could not be found, nor the mode -of useful legislation on this subject. But -an appeal beneath the beneficent influence -of Christianity was made to the -most refined sentiments of humanity, -and created duties which, however imperfectly -fulfilled, were imperious, and -relied on a divine sanction. In this -way charity provided for the variable -and indefinite needs which exist in all -human societies, from the richest and -most fortunate to the poorest and most -unhappy, and did so with the buoyant -and indefinite force inspired by sentiment, -which contrasts strongly with -similar laws and provisions enacted by -the State.</p> - -<p>The modern phase of thought does -not venture openly to attack socially -property, as politically it has attacked -divine right, because it has not known -what to substitute in its place. It was -less difficult to sustain universal suffrage, -which met with fewer obstacles -in its translation into fact than communism -or socialism. There has therefore -been no direct attack on property, but -for a long while circuitous means have -been taken to undermine its rights. By -the destruction of the feudal system, -the bonds which connected property -with the exercise of political power were -burst asunder, and another blow was -struck at its stability by the abolition of -the rights of eldest sons, and of all the -other privileges belonging to it, according -to ancient usage. Later, legitimate -successions and those of intestate persons -have been regulated, and thus the -disintegration has been gradually prepared. -Finally, the laws of taxation for -purposes of the State or of public welfare -have further confiscated a large -portion of private property. Hence it -may be said that on great part of the -Continent property of every kind—rural, -urban, movable, or immovable—has become -a merchandise, great part of which -is administered by trustees for the benefit -of the State, while the rest is subject -to a number of laws, contracts, and combinations -which cause it to pass from -one person to another with the utmost -rapidity, so that its enjoyment may be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span> -extended to as large a number as possible, -since the mode of distributing it -to all has not yet been discovered.</p> - -<p>Charity has been overthrown by the -same blow. It has shared the unpopularity -of her preachers, and it also, -without being directly attacked, has -been subjected, under different pretexts, -to the destruction and conversion of a -very large number of institutions founded -under its banner, and discredit has -been thrown on its practices and provisions, -while the struggle for existence -has been brutally substituted for charity. -So much the worse for the man who cannot -help himself out of a difficulty. The -motto of our time is a species of <i lang="fr">sauve -qui peut</i>, which begins in the transactions -of the money market and leads some to -the temple of fortune and others to the -river or to the lunatic asylum.</p> - -<p>We do not, however, assert that the -inexhaustible source of human kindness -with which God has mercifully endowed -our nature does not still find means of -doing good, and great good. Institutions, -which are for the most part beneficent, -abound on every side, and supply -the place of the ancient foundations -which have disappeared. But the conception -and its mode of execution are -different and do not correspond with the -old usage. Everything is done according -to rule in modern philanthropy. -There are free municipal schools in which -instruction is given to those who do or -do not desire it. There are hospitals in -which a definite number of patients afflicted -by certain diseases are collected, -and if the number is exceeded or the -symptoms are not the same, they are left -to die until a hospital is founded which -is intended for such cases. If a man is in -want of bread he receives a garment, because -the institution which might help -him only provides clothes; and if a whole -family is dying of hunger they will receive -a mattress if directed to an institution -which only supplies beds. The liberal -charity which is personal and intelligent, -and which corresponds to the infinite -variety and combinations of human -necessities, lingers, thank God! in the -hearts of the beneficent, but its form is -discredited and its means are abridged. -The great mass of the funds which were -devoted to charity is now diverted into -the official and semi-official channels of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span> -modern philanthropy. In my opinion, -the relief which is now given does good -without remedying the evil, since a dinner -for to-day is always welcome, but it -will not prevent a man from dying of -hunger next week, or of cold if he has -not wherewithal to cover himself; while -a loaf or a cloak given at a propitious -moment may save the life of a man or of -a whole family. So it may be said that -the place of charity has been taken by -the struggle for existence, only modified -by administrative philanthropy.</p> - -<p>This second revolution was produced -by the growing discredit which resulted -from the evils and inconveniences which -had their source in the ancient conception -of property, and from those which -were attributed to the free and sentimental -charity. Property, when in the -hands of a few privileged classes, made -few happy while the many were unhappy. -Charity created miseries by encouraging -idleness. Such were the principal arguments -which overthrew the old system.</p> - -<p>Thus political power of an exclusive -and egotistic character, which was -founded on divine right, was destroyed -in order to constitute governments on a -popular basis; labor was substituted for -charity. It appeared to the philosophers -who carried out this great revolution -that nothing more was needed to inaugurate -a new golden age in which the rivers -would flow with milk, and ripe fruits -would fall on every man’s table. It is -needless to add that peace and general -satisfaction were to be the results of this -profound and laborious revolution.</p> - - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<p>The old order of things was, however, -hardly demolished before two distinct -and menacing questions were raised upon -its ruins—Nationality and Socialism. -Let us begin with the first.</p> - -<p>Since the country (<i lang="la">patria</i>), in the -limited sense of the word, had disappeared—that -is, the political unity which -was represented by the dynasty or flag -or even simply a steeple, the early -symbol of the old societies—the sentiment -of association took its concrete -form in a fresh combination, more in -harmony with the democratic tendencies -of our times. It assumed the widest -possible basis—to constitute a society -which should unite all common interests,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span> -and should be governed in conformity -with these. It is, indeed, not surprising -that men who speak the same language, -inhabit the same zone, who are alike in -their customs and dispositions, who are, -in short, what is now called a nation, -should present all these characteristics, -and should therefore become the new -political unit both of the present and -the future, thus replacing the earlier -units formed by heredity or conquests -without respect to the interests of all -the component elements.</p> - -<p>Nothing in nature is produced at one -stroke; and some races had already advanced -towards nationality, and especially -France, which had laboriously -constituted herself into a nation, before -the word was used in its political meaning. -But the country to which it was -allotted to assert loudly and explicitly -this new form of political life was Italy -in 1859. The formula of nationality as -the basis of right was first proposed by -her and obtained acceptance by international -jurisprudence, and this basis had -scarcely been established before it led -to the overthrow of six thrones which -boasted of different origins, among -which was the most ancient and most -venerable of all—the temporal power of -the Popes. The experiment was favorably -received, and Germany lost no -time in adopting it, since the old system -had produced in that country the same -conditions of divisions and of relative -weakness which had occurred in Italy. -The campaigns of 1866 and of 1870 -served to contribute to the new theory -the force which was necessary to convince -European diplomacy.</p> - -<p>Even those who most reluctantly accept -modern ideas do not now speak -of anything but nationality. It might -be supposed that there had never been -any other basis for politics, since this -has in a very short time been so completely -and universally accepted.</p> - -<p>The production of these nationalities -has, however, been accompanied by all -the defects of the system which preceded -them. They have brought with -them all the rancours of ancient Europe. -The rancours of Francis I. and -of Charles V. have been transmuted into -the deadly enmity which exists between -French and Germans. The testament -of Frederic II. has led to the pro<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span>gramme -of the German people, and the -ambitious projects of Catherine II. have -issued in the aspirations of the Slave -race. So though the new era which -began with nationality indicates a real -progress in the internal constitution of -the different States, and in the fundamental -reasons for their several governments; -still with respect to their international -relations to universal justice and -to general peace, in a word, with respect -to the progress of the human race in -morals, we find ourselves—to make use -of the metaphor we employed at first—in -a fresh spiral, equally limited in -space, in which there is a relative progress, -but it has only a slight influence -on the general progress of humanity. -And, to turn from abstract principles to -the concrete limits of politics, the present -state of things is not promising nor -hopeful for the peace of Europe.</p> - -<p>The first and most curious phenomenon -which accompanied the affirmation -of different nationalities as a guarantee -of peace in Europe, has been compulsory -service—a euphemism which implies -that the whole male population of -Europe is trained and educated for war; -thus men are fashioned into as deadly -instruments as were ever found in barbarous -ages and during the warfare of -the old system. Military education, -both technical and gymnastic, is brought -to such perfection that whole generations -are trained like hounds for mortal -conflict, and each man may on an average -kill ten others in the course of a -minute. Even in traversing Europe by -the railway we may observe near the -fortresses, and indeed in the great -centres of population, arenas, gymnasia, -drilling grounds, and young men clothed -in the prescribed warlike uniform. This -strange spectacle is unnoticed because it -is concealed and confounded with the -attractions of modern civilisation; but -it must strike all who seek to penetrate -its external phenomena: and certainly -those who established the present civilisation -did not anticipate such a result.</p> - -<p>We must, however, leave the speculative -side of the question to philosophers, -since what concerns us in the interests -of this same civilisation is to examine -the practical results of the situation in -Europe in its political aspect, with which -we are at this moment occupied. Brief<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span>ly, -we wish to ascertain what is now the -political situation of Europe, in consequence -and in presence of the new basis -on which European rights are established.</p> - -<p>And primarily, since the application -of these new rights, all nationalities, -if they do not feel the present necessity, -yet they have potentially a tendency to -assimilate the elements which properly -belong to them. And each forms a -judgment of the situation in accordance -with his standard and purpose.</p> - -<p>Thus, for example, Russia, under the -pretext of consisting for the most part -of Slav peoples, begins to nourish in her -bosom the ambition of uniting all the -Slav races under the well-known name -of Pan-Slavism. No matter that the -Slavs of Poland and Bohemia differ -widely from those of Russia proper in -their language, religion, and habits, perhaps -more widely than from those of -another nationality. Panslavists extend -to the race the privileges of the nation, -and as it would be difficult to define -logically where the one begins and the -other ends, so among them, and especially -among those who believe, perhaps -rightly, that they speak in the name of -Russia, the Slav nation consists of a -third of Europe, reaching from the North -Pole to the Adriatic. In order to unite -it under Russian rule, it would be necessary -to overthrow, or at any rate seriously -to mutilate, the dominions of Turkey -and of Austrian Hungary.</p> - -<p>The demolition of the Turkish empire -and the diminution of Austrian Hungary -would be carried still further by the -nationality of Greece, which requires -for its proper development to absorb -another portion of Turkey, and to deprive -Austria of such access to the sea -as the Slavs might leave to her.</p> - -<p>The Italian nationality would also propose -some modifications of the geography -of Europe, less searching than the -above, but not without their importance.</p> - -<p>France and Spain are the countries -which have least to ask in the way of -expansion; the former because her territory -was acquired before the enunciation -of the principle was formulated, the -latter because of her limited proportions, -unless, following the interpretations of -Russia, she should entertain the ambition, -which up to this time is scarcely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span> -perceptible if it exists at all, of acquiring -the whole Iberian peninsula.</p> - -<p>If we continue our circuit of the continent -we come to the two small nationalities -of Flanders and Scandinavia. -These two, although their populations -are the least numerous, seem less sensible -of the necessity of political reunion. -It is certain that no one in Belgium and -Holland has seriously formulated the -idea of a fusion, nor yet among the -Scandinavians. These States enjoy a -certain ease of circumstances and unusual -prosperity, without being tormented -by the demon of aggrandisement; -they allow the claims of nationality to -remain dormant in order that they may -enjoy in prosperity and contentment -what they have acquired by political -shrewdness and indefatigable labor; but -it may be said that in these conditions -they stand alone in Europe.</p> - -<p>The circuit we have made from the -extreme north to the centre of Europe -includes the most complete, successful, -and indisputable instance of a compact -and homogeneous nationality in that -of Germany. Twenty-five years ago -this was hardly regarded as an ethnographical -or historical designation, and -it was certainly not political, since the -tendencies and interests of the different -States of Germany were quite dissimilar, -even when, as in many of the -most important questions, they were -not altogether opposed to each other. -Now that the nationality has arisen, has -grown and reached maturity, and in two -memorable campaigns has swept all obstacles -from its path, it would be as useless -to try to arrest its development and -divert it from its path as to try and make -the Rhine flow back to its source.</p> - -<p>The German nation must absorb a -few more States in order to constitute -itself into a political unity, but since -the most important would shake to its -foundations the Austro-Hungarian empire, -this last annexation will be deferred -as long as possible. The fraction -of Germans which remains to be -absorbed into the empire would only -augment the number of its constituents -by some millions, and its territory by -some provinces; meanwhile in its present -condition it fulfils the mission of -a colony detached from the parent -nation, impressed with the same char<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span>acteristics, -and adhering to the same -interests, and thus constituting a weighty -instrument for carrying out the national -views throughout the Austro-Hungarian -empire, which, amidst the -conflict of the different nationalities of -which it consists, is clearly and irresistibly -impelled towards that which is the -nearest, the most energetic, and the -most powerful. This state of things is -too favorable to Germany to allow her -to hasten to exchange her independent -colonies in Austria into faithful subjects -of the German Emperor. There remain -other tendencies to assimilation -on the side of Russia and of Switzerland. -The first are so problematical -that they may be regarded as a pretext -rather than a claim. The second have -not, up to this time, acquired any appearance -of probability, since Switzerland -has had the privilege of constituting -an artificial and political nationality -out of such as are truly geographical -and ethnographical, and has gallantly -resisted any encroachment, so that on -this side also any assimilation must be -regarded as immature. We must not, -however, forget the homogeneity of race, -if Germany should be for any cause impelled -to approach or to cross the Alps. -In such a case the effects of this homogeneity -must make themselves felt.</p> - -<p>These tendencies are not, however, -all equally active, nor have they all the -same intensity. Up to this time some -of them are still latent, and give no -sign of their existence, nor are they the -only factors of the political state of Europe. -Besides their tendencies to become -complete, nationalities have certain other -tendencies, objects, and ends, which may -be said to be peculiar to each of them, -since they correspond with their special -needs, relate to certain conditions, and -are in conformity with the mission which -each State has, or thinks it has, in the -political concert of nations.</p> - -<p>Since, therefore, we are considering -the subject from the political point of -view, as it now exists, we shall only -regard those tendencies which actually -demand satisfaction, and which, therefore, -constitute an element and a factor -of contemporary politics. The more -important tendencies may be reduced to -few, intense in character, and wielding -mighty forces. The others may be con<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span>sidered -as depending by those which -are greater and stronger, only differing -in degree of intensity and power. They -generally take an intermediate place, -and receive their satisfaction second-hand, -according to their position on the -right or wrong side in the great conflict -of interests. They usually follow the -fortune of the conquered or conquering -leaders.</p> - -<p>Russia, the dominant Slav race of the -north, in addition to the desire of assimilation -with her brethren, tends towards -the sun, in order to exert an influence -over the temperate zone, in which the -most vital interests of Europe are at -issue. This is the popular tradition -which goes by the name of the testament -of Peter the Great. Russia has persistently -and indefatigably extended her -conquests in the direction of the East. -If this movement appears to be at present -less decided, it is because her want -of success in the last war and last treaty -has reacted on the constitution of the -empire, which is thus weakened and -hindered in its efforts at expansion. -But as soon as this impulse of internal -dissatisfaction is subdued, her activity -abroad will be renewed. The man or -the government which is able to lead -Russia back into her old course will -solve the enigma by which she is now -agitated.</p> - -<p>She advances towards the east from -two sides—the north and west. In the -former direction she is impelled by the -force of circumstances. The only element -of order amid the nomadic and -barbarous peoples which overspread the -country extending from the sides of the -Caucasus to the interior of Asia, the -endless controversies about frontiers -enable her to advance stealthily and -insensibly, owing, as we have said, -to the very nature of things. On the -western side she makes her way deliberately, -and in spite of all the obstacles -opposed to her. These are of two -kinds—the resistance of the Ottoman -empire; and that of the European -Powers, which are either interested in -maintaining it or desire to succeed to -its territory. England stands first in -the first category, Austria in the second, -if, indeed, she is not alone in the desire -to succeed to Turkey.</p> - -<p>Russia would have overcome the first<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span> -obstacle, in spite of the tenacity of the -Ottoman policy and the bravery of the -army, if it were not complicated by the -second. The great and moribund empire -of Turkey has still vitality enough -to respond to the affectionate care of -the more or less interested physicians -who take charge of her.</p> - -<p>But since 1870 the political attitude -of Europe with respect to Turkey has -completely changed. Each of the three -Powers which with a somewhat elaborate -disinterestedness assumed her defence -in 1855 has modified its views. -Italy, to whom it was hardly more than -a pretext for inaugurating her political -constitution, has attained her object and -will no longer apply herself with the -same tenacity of purpose to the maintenance -of the Ottoman empire. France -and England have abandoned their office -of guardians, to assume the more profitable -one of heirs—the one in Tunis, -the other in Egypt. As for Russia, with -which we are now occupied, her position -is also different. Now that France has -taken her share, she has no great interest -in upholding the tottering giant -against whom she has directed one of -the most recent and most decisive blows; -and, on the other hand, she is by no -means interested in opposing the plans -of Russia or in offending her, since she -recognises in this Power the only hope -of vengeance remaining to her in the -present state of things.</p> - -<p>England, on the other hand, who has -taken her share of the succession, wishes, -if possible, to prolong the existence of -the dying man, especially since Russia -is with more or less reason considered -by a certain section of public opinion -in England to menace her influence and -even her possessions in the East, as well -as in the West. The influences of Russia -and England are so heterogeneous, one -to the other, that whenever they come in -contact, although it may be in the distant -future, it must be a reciprocal -source of danger. But now that England -has secured Egypt, she has perhaps -no longer the same intense interest in -the preservation of the Turkish empire -by which she was actuated in 1855.</p> - -<p>From 1870 onwards, a new and very -important actor appeared on the Oriental -stage. Austria, repulsed by the different -nationalities—by Italy in 1859,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span> -by Germany in 1866—for the very reason -that she was the only European State -which did not rely on nationality, that -exclusive and jealous factor of modern -politics, has been obliged to depend -on one of those already in existence, -and also to create for herself a scope -and office which might justify her own -existence. She has found these two -objects fulfilled by the Oriental question.</p> - -<p>Since the Hapsburg dynasty found -itself placed on the confines of German -nationality, and close to all the fractions -of different nationalities which the -storms of past ages had thrown on the -shores of the Danube on one side, and -on the Balkan peninsula on the other, -it quickly took the part of ruling all these -different nationalities, which, owing to -their insignificance, could not aspire to -form a political unit, and therefore relied -on the great German nationality -which was behind them. But, as we -have said, this did not suffice; another -object was presented to them, dictated -by the nature of things—that is, to substitute -the Mohammedans in the supremacy -of Eastern Europe, as they were -incompatible with European civilisation, -and at the same time to prevent this, -which is commonly called the key of -Europe, from falling into the hands of a -really numerous nationality, which would -on many accounts have excited the fears -of all European interests.</p> - -<p>Through this act, dictated, as we have -said, by the necessities of things, Austria -has found herself inextricably bound to -Germany and opposed to Russia, with -whom she contests the two objects most -dear to the latter—the acquisition of -the Catholic Slav races which Austria -jealously cherishes in her bosom, and -her progress towards the sun, or towards -whatever obstructs her advance to the -East. The indissoluble bonds which -unite the policy of Germany with that -of the Austro-Hungarian empire enable -the former country to enjoy the inestimable -advantage of exerting a powerful -influence on Eastern diplomacy without, -however, showing the hand which she -neither could nor would withdraw.</p> - -<p>Consequently, Russia finds in the German -nationality upon her western frontier -a much more serious and permanent -barrier than that which was raised by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span> -the political combinations of 1855. Her -development in the East is opposed, as -well as the expansion of her influence in -Europe, which is still more important. -We see these two great nationalities -fatally opposed to each other by their -most vital necessities, and in the objects -they most ardently desire. The wise -and prudent combinations of the statesmen -of these two great countries are -applied to smooth difficulties and distract -attention from these fatal conditions; -and owing to the calm temperament -of these nations, and to the discipline -still maintained by their Governments, -they have been successful up to -a certain point. The ancient alliance of -the three emperors has, however, already -become that of two. On the one side -there is a true and serious alliance established -between the two houses of Germany -and Austria; on the other, a close, -warm, and probably sincere friendship -between the houses of Germany and Russia. -But none such can be firmly established -between the three; and as for the -two most numerous and powerful nationalities -of Europe, they may (and the God -of Peace will reward them for it) dissimulate, -soften, temporise—do everything -in their power to avert too rapid -or too violent a collision of the important -interests of their subjects, but they -cannot change the nature of things. -The two great nationalities, Slav and -German, are essentially rivals, both in -geographical position and in their political -aims.</p> - -<p>These considerations naturally lead -us to speak of the German nationality.</p> - -<p>This nationality, like all those of recent -origin, desires to feel itself secure. -On the one side there is an instinctive -fear of the possible conflagrations to -which the influence of their powerful -neighbor may give rise; on the other, -it cannot lose sight of the strong antagonism -between Germany and France -which dates from 1870. It will for a -long period be difficult to overcome -this antagonism, since it is founded on -the great frontier interests which have -been contested on both sides. As long -as France is deprived of her traditional -frontier she will never feel herself secure, -and if it were surrendered by Germany, -she would lose all the fruits of her loss -and bloodshed in 1870. Even if it were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> -only a contest for influence and supremacy, -it is not in the French nature -to submit to defeat without feeling from -time to time the desire for revenge. -This impulse alone in so excitable a nation -is enough to keep Germany watchful -in this direction. Certainly such an -occurrence is not at present either certain -or threatening, but it is always possible -that their two formidable neighbors -may combine, and this would re-act also -on the different nationalities which compose -the Austro-Hungarian empire. It -is this danger which keeps the German -nation in an indefinite and indefinable -state of uneasiness, to her own economical -ruin, as well as to that of all the -European States which are compelled to -imitate her.</p> - -<p>To this feeling of uneasiness must be -referred the feverish activity of the Imperial -<em>Cabinet</em>, who never ceases to make -and unmake plans and combinations, -dominated by the single idea which was -cherished by the rival nationality of -France from the time of Louis the Fourteenth -to that of Thiers—namely, to -keep all Europe in a divided state. -This is not only in order to carry out -the famous maxim, <i lang="la">Divide et impera</i>, but -because among all the possible combinations, -some might be, if not fatal, yet -dangerous to the existence of Germany.</p> - -<p>This possibly was foreseen in 1870, -and it is known that lengthy negotiations -secured the neutrality of Russia -in that war. The concessions made to -Russia in the East were part of the -price of that neutrality, and chief among -these was the revision of the Treaty of -Paris.</p> - -<p>It was readily believed that the opportunity -of securing predominance in -Europe, for which Germany had been -so elaborately prepared, and which a -chance unlikely to occur twice in the -lifetime of peoples so liberally offered -her, would not be let slip by the German -Government. The war with France -has been justly called a Punic War, or -a deadly strife for supremacy in Europe. -And therefore the second Punic War -was looked for in a period in which it -should not be possible for Russia to intervene. -According to the plan by which -the Roman Horatius fought with his -rivals one by one, it seemed that the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span> -dominion, if not of the world, at any rate -of Europe, was secured to Germany.</p> - -<p>This opinion was confirmed, inasmuch -as the first question which arose after -1870 was the Eastern question. The -part taken by Germany is well known, -and certainly the peace was concluded -at Berlin, where the Treaty of San -Stefano, which had secured to Russia -the price of her action, was cancelled. -Russia issued from the struggle seriously -shaken, nor has she yet recovered -from the shock. The Russian nation, -deluded in its most cherished expectations, -has been given up to a state of -discontent which it is not necessary to -study in its forms but in its essence. -The people are conscious of having -been misdirected in their course, and -are displeased with whoever has failed -to interpret their wishes.</p> - -<p>It seemed as if this might have been -the moment for a second war with -France, and especially since it was unlikely -that Russia would forget, when -her strength returned, the <i lang="pt">auto da fé</i> -made at Berlin of the Treaty of San -Stefano. To this end all the manœuvres -of the Berlin Cabinet seem to have -tended, as if the powerful hand of the -German Chancellor had only been exerted -to effect its conclusion.</p> - -<p>The mountain did not, however, -bring forth a mouse but a <i lang="fr">canard</i>, for -such it must appear to our calmer judgment, -in the unexpected rumor of a -Franco-German alliance. We are not -now in a position to examine the reasons -of this abortive birth. It only concerns -us to show that when the hypothesis of -this solution was overthrown by the -power so ably and opportunely exerted, -the question was reproduced to the -German nation in its integrity. Placed -between and in collision with the interests -of two great nationalities, the one -consisting of nearly sixty and the other -of forty million inhabitants, Germany -was still uneasy and insecure. Her people -are, however, strictly disciplined, -trained for conflict, and of a naturally -brave temperament, and all means have -been used to develop this quality in -them. We know that when men conscious -of strength are uncomfortable or -of evil humor they soon try to mend -their condition, and that they expend -their wrath on some thing or person<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> -until they have regained security and -calmness. This constitutes one of the -most serious questions now presented to -Europe, and whence issues much of the -uncertainty and dangers which menace -its peace.</p> - -<p>The Chancellor, with the ability and -diplomatic genius which no one can dispute -that he possesses, involves this phantasm -in all sorts of wrappings, with the -double aim of appeasing it and of rendering -it less alarming to Europe. He -expends all the energy which was accumulated -in the violent struggle in diplomatic -combinations. Hence the friendly -relations with Russia have continually -become closer; hence the triple alliance -again, the courteous treatment of -Spain, the favorable recognition of the -French occupation of Tunis, so acceptable -to France, although received with -dissatisfaction by Italy; hence also the -English occupation of Egypt was not -opposed by Germany from the first, -while it was very displeasing to France. -All this incessant activity of German -diplomacy, which appeared to be ably -directed, and very probably really was -so directed, to procure the isolation of -France, was on that account supposed -to lead the way to a second Franco-German -war. But at the present it -should rather be regarded as a long succession -of manœuvres and a complicated -diplomatic strategy, which had -lost sight of its immediate object and -had for the time no other interests than -those which the episodes of this grave -question present to the curiosity of all -Europe—a question of which the issue -is so uncertain and indefinite that at -the moment when the object in view -appeared to be obtained in the complete -isolation of France, we hear of a Franco-German -alliance. Incredible as it may -appear, this is the fact. The alliance is -spoken of, and this is enough to show -that everything is possible in the state -of tension in which things are in Central -Europe.</p> - -<p>The sudden transition from a state -of mortal war to that of an alliance -might have been contemplated in the -political exigencies of the times of Cardinal -Richelieu—that is, when foreign -politics were of a kind of sacerdotalism, -only transacted by Cabinets, on which -public opinion exercised little or no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span> -influence. But it is difficult to believe, -in the present state and exigencies of -public opinion, and especially in France, -that it would be easy or possible to -stifle in a diplomatic combination, however -able and useful, the memories of -Metz and Sedan, the loss of the Rhine -Provinces and the occupation of Paris.</p> - -<p>Such an opinion may be to some -extent accepted by the victors, but not -by those on whom the burden of the -war of 1870 fell. We mean by this that -when such combinations are contemplated -and the attempt is made to carry -them into effect, they will not change -the actual state of things. The rivalry, -incompatibility, and rancours produced -by interests which are different and in -many cases opposed to each other in -two neighboring and powerful nations, -may be subdued for a while, but they -must sooner or later revive until the -question is substantially resolved by the -triumph of one side or the other. It is -precisely because she has been unwilling -or unable to resolve it, that Germany -remains in this condition of profound -disquietude—a condition which has -taken no certain and definite direction, -but which is pregnant with possible dangers -for the rest of Europe.</p> - -<p>We have said that the movement has -not yet taken a definite direction, but -not that its tendency does not begin to -declare itself. While setting aside for -a little and adjourning to a more or less -distant future the question of its own -safety, the German nation, in common -with others, has certain objects in view -beyond that of mere existence; it has -natural aspirations which give a purpose -to life. We have said that the -Slav races of Russia are drawn towards -the sun, and the Germans are as strongly -attracted towards the sea.</p> - -<p>The people of Germany are very poor, -owing to the natural conditions of the -soil and climate, poor also owing to -compulsory military service, to which, -however, they willingly submit for the -sake of their national existence. If a -strong people does not long tolerate an -uneasy condition, neither can it tolerate -poverty. One which is strong and poor -is a dangerous neighbor to richer peoples. -Now, from whatever side we cross -the German frontier, we are struck by -the prosperity and riches of the neigh<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span>boring -nations, whether agricultural, -manufacturing, or mercantile. The -only advertisement posted up in every -German village is the name of the company, -battalion, and regiment to which -it belongs, instead of the numerous advertisements -which we find in similar -villages of Belgium, France, and Holland, -announcing transactions of trade, -commerce, and manufactures. When -we see the poor and humble villages -which are thus classified, we might say -that the German nation is merely encamped -in the midst of Europe.</p> - -<p>In the present conditions of Europe, -and precisely on account of the nationalities -to which the credit must be -given, territorial acquisitions among -neighbors and the subjection of one -people to another have become hardly -possible except in a few limited cases -which cannot enter the mind of any -statesman as having any large significance -in the political future. Since -European nations can no longer, as of -old, obtain expansion at the expense of -one another, they now seek for it in distant -lands, amid lower civilisations and -in societies which are less firmly constituted. -This is done not only by conquest, -but by colonisation and commercial -establishments of every kind, -which assure influence, and still more -riches and prosperity to their founders. -For this end, it is important that a -nation should have easy access to the -sea. The German nation is eminently -continental and has only an inconsiderable -extent of seaboard. Hence Germany -has need of the sea, and this -tendency attracts her equally towards -the north and east of Europe. This -has probably influenced her policy in -the late Eastern war, and this subsidiary -necessity is the complement of the more -important need of securing her own -safety which has been the object of the -policy of the German Chancellor in its -varying transitions. It agrees with the -colonising tendencies which have come -openly to a head within the last few -months.</p> - -<p>We have thus briefly indicated the -tendencies of two among the principal -nationalities. France comes next in -importance, and since she is in fact the -most ancient, so that her customs and -interests are firmly welded in spite of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> -all her misfortunes, she need not greatly -concern herself about the fact of her -existence. It would be difficult to -make any breach in the unity of France, -since the traces of her ancient divisions -no longer exist. Her external borders -may be enlarged or restricted wherever -the popular characteristics are less marked, -or even ambiguous, so that their -affections and interests may oscillate -towards neighborly nations. But the -great nucleus of the people has no fear -of being other than it is, and this is not -now the source of agitation in France. -It is precisely because she has long been -secure in the enjoyment and free exercise -of all her faculties as a nation that -her tendencies are more clearly and -explicitly displayed.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately these tendencies are -towards domination and empire as the -scope and means of her prosperity. As -soon as France was constituted into a -nation, or from the Revolution onwards, -her history is only a history of aggressions -which nothing but superior force -from without and exhaustion within -could arrest. The necessity of expansion -by warlike means is so intense in -the French nation that she is hardly subjected -to foreign compulsion before -there is an outbreak of internal disturbances. -France, conquered in 1815, -only remained quiet until she had recovered -strength. The blood hardly begins -to circulate in her veins when she either -overthrows her Government or makes -war on foreign Powers. The dilemma -imposed like an incubus on all the rulers -of France for the last hundred years issues -in this—either war or revolution.</p> - -<p>The present Government, instinctively -conscious of this state of things, and -not feeling strong enough to make war -on its more powerful neighbors lest it -should be ruined in its turn, has invented -a diversion by transposing the problem—waging -war in Asia and Africa, -and carrying fire and flames into all -parts of the world which could offer no -resistance. The first idea of this policy -must be ascribed to Louis Philippe, -who owed the tranquillity of the early -years of his reign to the conquest of -Algeria. Other European nations have -undertaken colonisation or conquest of -distant lands with reference to their -material prosperity, but conquest has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> -been the primary object of France. -Economic views take a secondary place, -out of proportion with the scale of the -enterprise, and are, indeed, rather a -pretext. This constitutional restlessness -of France, which is only arrested -by force, has long constituted one of -the gravest perils which threaten the -peace of Europe.</p> - -<p>Italy, as well as Germany, feels the -need of security, and this common need -has, since 1870, united the interests -of the two countries. There are insuperable -obstacles in the tendency natural -to all nationalities to absorb unconsciously -the congenial elements of other -States. The only symptoms of this -tendency have been displayed on the -side of Austria, which is not herself a -nation, but those who so improvidently -in any respect promoted it were also -perhaps not aware that behind Austria -stands Germany, and that Trieste on the -Adriatic corresponds to that nation’s -tendency towards the sea. But as far -as her own existence is concerned, Italy -is irrevocably bound to all the combinations -which may secure her, and is the -irreconcilable enemy of all those who -threaten her.</p> - -<p>The path of Greece is equally barred -by Austria and Russia, nor has she -much hope of making way against these -two great Powers, unless their antagonism -can nourish such hopes.</p> - -<p>We have reserved England to the last, -because her political condition as it -concerns her nationality is altogether -distinct from those with which we have -been hitherto occupied. If by nationality -we mean homogeneous characteristics -of race, a similarity in language, -religion, and customs, the Anglo-Saxon -nationality extends beyond the United -Kingdom into both hemispheres. If, on -the other hand, we regard the United -Kingdom as an actual political unit, -we find that it is composed of different -races, in which are included the English, -Scotch, and Irish, which have -nothing in common with each other but -their official language. And yet, while -the English nation has for good reasons -never posed, morally speaking, as the -champion of nationalities, she presides -over the most cultured, numerous, and -energetic nationality in the world. But -the Anglo-Saxon nationality does not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span> -need nor desire, and indeed is unable, -to be a political unit. It may be said -that the Anglo-Saxon race has passed -through the historical period of a nationality -without observing it. It has -advanced beyond this period to attain -to the ideal of a civilisation forming -whole parts of the world, in which only -one language is spoken, in which we -find the same customs, interests, and -religion, or, at any rate, the faculty of -accepting, each man for himself, what -seems good to him, without allowing -this diversity to produce, either in theory -or practice, a distinction which has any -political efficacy.</p> - -<p>In those parts of the world there are -not five or six groups of men which look -askance at each other with a hostile air, -and which, because they speak a different -language, have a different history -and religion, believe themselves to be -justified as a matter of duty and honor -in exterminating each other two or three -times in a century. Because a scrap of -ground belongs to one set of people, does -not that appear to be a sufficient reason -to the others to maintain millions of -armed men trained for their reciprocal -destruction? Geographical degrees do -not suffice to create different and conflicting -interests which may justify them -in mutual injuries, and in inflicting on -one another the long series of small -and great miseries which begin with protracted -wars and fiscal duties and end in -the imposition of quarantine.</p> - -<p>This fact gives to the English people, -which represents that nationality in Europe, -an exceptional power and authority. -The English people may become -decadent as an European Power, but -as a nationality it will be unmenaced, -since it does not represent a limited -political unit, but the half of the world. -If the German nationality should ever -be baffled in the political combination -made since 1870, she would lose her -political importance in the world. But -if Britain were attacked and conquered, -the Anglo-Saxon nationality would -still remain the greatest political power -in the universe. Hence this nationality -or race is exalted above all the narrow -sentiments which underlie the policy of -the different European States; but -England herself as a State and political -unit is jealous of the power which has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> -in less than two centuries produced the -miraculous development of the Anglo-Saxon -race to its present extent; but if -this jealousy is shown by the legitimate -defence of a greatness achieved by what -was, comparatively speaking, a handful -of men from a remote island in the -Atlantic, it does not express itself in the -palpitations of a whole people struggling -for their existence, which is the case -with continental nations.</p> - -<p>It follows from her exceptional circumstances -that the aims of England in -Europe are few, and different from those -of other States, and that her policy has -gradually become more disinterested in -the contests which divide continental -Europe. She has witnessed the supremacy -of France, as she now witnesses -the supremacy of Germany; she has -watched the rise of Italy and the decline -of the Mussulman empire, to which she -formerly appeared so warmly attached, -and it has not affected her political position. -The political vicissitudes of this -half of the century have disturbed the -balance of all the States of Europe, -while England has during the same half -century pursued her unalterable course -through all these changes, not only without -adopting compulsory service, but -also without adopting conscription, and -with an army which a continental Power -would scarcely consider sufficient for a -grand review. One point, however, -England holds it necessary for her honor -and interests to maintain—namely, her -maritime supremacy and the free action -of her eminently commercial people, in -order to carry on her mission of civilisation, -which is at once noble and lucrative. -She will strive for this object with -her last penny and with the last drop of -her blood, and it is on this side only that -the English nation takes its place as a -great factor in European politics. She -will strive for this object with her accumulated -materials of character, power, -and wealth, and at all events she will for -a long time strive with the success and -efficacy which no one can deny that she -possesses. But with this exception her -points of contact with Europe are few, -and there is little probability of friction -since her object is remote. Instead of -striving for her nationality in Europe, she -carries on without a conflict the advance -of civilisation throughout the world.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span></p> - -<p>But she cannot, we have said, be indifferent -to any attacks on her maritime -supremacy, nor to the serious rivalry -with her colonial policy displayed by -the European States. For this reason, -and with a recollection of all which the -continental blockade cost her, she regards -with displeasure the excessive preponderance -of any one of the great European -Powers. England consists of a -belly and brain nourished by scattered -members which include in their manifold -organism all parts of the world. If -any one member is severed or paralysed, -the blow is felt in the centre. The inclination -to found colonies aroused in -different European nationalities, which -is, indeed, the necessary consequence of -their development, naturally interests -England in the highest degree, nor can -the cases be rare when these new aspirations -must be checked by the appearance -of the British flag.</p> - -<p>We have now indicated all the perils -and difficulties which threaten the peace -of Europe under the present political -conditions that come from the principles -established with so much difficulty by -philosophers who were actuated by humanitarian -motives, and who inscribed -on the banner which floated above the -ancient citadel of their cherished theories, -the magic word “Fraternity.”</p> - -<p>On their banner there was also inscribed -“Equality,” which would lead -me to speak of socialism, if space allowed -it: as in Europe the progress in -social questions has not been more fortunate. -And just as monarchy had hardly -been called in question before it was -face to face with the republic, so the -rights of property have hardly been discussed -before riches and poverty are -confronted, and the whole problem of -the distribution of wealth rises again like -a phantom before society. But this -article has already reached such a length -that I must postpone to a future occasion -the treatment of that important and -extensive subject. What I have said, -however, is quite enough to show that -if in Europe the present state of opinion -on these subjects should not be modified, -national wars as well as civil wars -could eventually carry us at least through -a temporary period of barbarism.</p> - -<p>Yet we do not believe that we should -lose confidence in progress, and repudi<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span>ate -it in order to revert to the old state -of things, nor yet that the principles and -ideas of which we have spoken are not -really progressive. Progress is a law of -humanity which, if it were not, as it undoubtedly -is, beneficial, must be fatal to -it; and it is certainly a mark of progress -that community of language, customs, -and tendencies is regarded as a reason -for political union rather than certain -arbitrary or fortuitous combinations of -successions, treaties, conquests, and the -like. Above all, it is well to have substituted -the right of good government for -that which is merely arbitrary. We must -again regard as progressive some of the -modifications introduced in the laws relating -to property. I say some of them, -since it was perhaps dangerous to shake -prematurely the foundations of the systems -by which it has been ordered up -to this time, when those which are to replace -them are still imperfect and untried.</p> - -<p>But a long process of moral discipline -is required, which may by instruction -modify the ideas about the two great -modern conceptions of politics and -society.</p> - -<p>Besides, and in the meantime as a -compensation, our gentler customs, a -real progress in the education of sentiments -and general culture, greatly neutralise -the effect of this violent state -of things. After the Russian has made -a long tirade on the future of the Slav -race, he sets out for the Rhine or Paris, -and forgets the mystical and obscure -visions of Holy Russia in the genuine -pleasures of civilisation. When the German -lays aside his deadly arms in order -to re-enter civic life, his prejudices -against the Latin race often fade before -the amenity of a Frenchman and the -glorious sun of Italy. Undoubtedly the -multiplicity, the facility and gentleness -of intercourse produced by modern civilisation, -are of great efficacy in paralysing -the effects of national antagonism -and of social hatreds, but our watchfulness -must not therefore relax. But, -notwithstanding all these considerations, -we persist in believing that until European -opinion is modified on these important -subjects, European policy must -always take account of them, constantly -on the watch lest she should be surprised -by wars and unforeseen catastrophes,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span> -which would compromise the long and -laborious work of her refined civilisation.</p> - -<p>As long as nationalities are compelled -to be rivals, it is necessary to find some -compensation for this rivalry. The ancient -system of the balance and equilibrium -of power, which has seemed to -be old and disused armour, was perhaps -never more opportune than now. If a -general confederation after the American -manner seems visionary, as opposed to -the actual state of things in Europe, it -might be practical and efficacious to -substitute this system of equilibrium -for partial alliance, and to establish the -political balance of Europe in a normal -position. But it is necessary that this -work should be effected in time, before -the preponderance of different Powers -should become more marked, and especially -before the ambitions and greed -which are now upon the surface should -strike deeply into the basis of international -policy. A well-planned system -of approximating those elements which -are in any sense homogeneous or guided -by common interests would tend to -secure peace and strengthen governments, -and would at the same time keep -in check the social discontent which is -nourished by political dissensions, gathers -strength from the uncertainty and -weakness of our present institutions, and -triumphs in our misfortunes.</p> - -<p>Here we must break off on the brink -of conclusions and remedies. A few -words will not suffice to sum up the -moral of this long dissertation, nor was -it our intention to do so either in few -words or many. The question is too -large for solution in the pages of a -Review.</p> - -<p>It simply appeared to be an opportune -moment for pointing out the singular -situation created by the progress of -modern ideas, and to indicate the dangers -involved in it.</p> - -<p>We do not wish to exaggerate these -dangers, and have ourselves pointed out -that modern civilisation also includes -their correctives, and that they do not -imply the end of all things, nor that -another flood of Deucalion is needed to -renovate the human race from its very -beginnings.</p> - -<p>But precisely because European civilisation -is so elaborate and complex, it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span> -would be an error to suppose that catastrophic -causes are needed in order seriously -to affect the conditions of our comparative -civility. Feudal and tyrannical -wars took place in barren lands, amid -rude castles and squalid villages; those -which are national and social must be -fought out amidst gardens and the monuments -of art and manufacture. The last -wars recorded by history had Lombardy -and Champagne as their theatre, or were -fought in the streets of Paris. Any of -the tendencies indicated by us in the foregoing -considerations which should terminate -in a conflict would take place -under analogous conditions and in the -same degree of civilisation which, while -it might mitigate the modes of warfare, -must make its effects more grievous. -And the same ambition to possess distant -countries which are more or less -civilised may also be equally full of danger -to commerce, international relations, -the peace of Europe, and the interests of -civilisation.</p> - -<p>The privileged rules of the policy of -the old world imposed upon themselves -a limit to excessive power, and used the -saying, <i lang="fr">Noblesse oblige</i>. A new motto -might be proposed to the builders and -destroyers of Governments in our day, -which would be equally noble and might -be more fertile of results—<i lang="fr">Progrès -oblige</i>.—<cite>Nineteenth Century.</cite></p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="ORGANIC_NATURES_RIDDLE" id="ORGANIC_NATURES_RIDDLE">ORGANIC NATURE’S RIDDLE.</a><br /> - -<small>BY ST. GEORGE MIVART.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span></p> - - -<p>Amongst the many sagacious sayings -of the patient and profound thinkers of -Germany, not the least noteworthy was -Schelling’s affirmation that the phenomena -of instinct are some of the most -important of all phenomena, and capable -of serving as a very touch-stone -whereby the value of competing theories -of the universe may be effectually tested. -His prescience has been justified by -our experience. The greatest scientific -event of the present time is the wide -acceptance of the theory of evolution, -and its use as a weapon of offence and -defence. It is used both against the -belief that intelligent purpose is, as it -were, incarnate in the living world about -us, and also in favor of a merely mechanical -theory of nature. Now it would -be difficult to find a more searching test -of that theory’s truth than is supplied -by a careful study of instinct. The -essence of that view of nature which is -associated with the name of Professor -Haeckel,<a id="FNanchor_1_1" href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">1</a> a negation of the doctrine of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> -final causes and an assertion of what he -calls “Dysteleology,” that is, the doctrine -of the purposelessness of the -organs and organisms which people a -purposeless planet. That doctrine may -be called the gospel of the irrationality -of the universe, and it is a doctrine to -which a proof of the real existence of -such a thing as “instinct” must necessarily -be fatal. Instinct has been defined<a id="FNanchor_2_2" href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">2</a> -as a “special internal impulse, -urging animals to the performance of -certain actions which are useful to them -or to their kind, but the use of which -they do not themselves perceive, and -their performance of which is a necessary -consequence of their being placed -in certain circumstances.” Such an -impulse is always understood to be the -result of sensations: actions which -take place in response to <em>unfelt</em> stimuli -being referred, not to instinct, but to -what is termed <em>reflex action</em>. In such -action it is commonly supposed that -the mechanism of a living body occasions -a prompt responsive muscular -movement upon the occurrence of some -unfelt stimulation of the nervous system. -The nervous system, or total mass of -nerve-stuff—which is technically called -“nerve-tissue”—in the body of an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span> -animal, such as a beast, bird, reptile, or -fish, is composed of two parts or divisions. -One of these divisions consists -of a voluminous and continuous mass—the -brain and spinal cord (or spinal -marrow), which form what is called the -central part of the nervous system. -The second division consists of a multitude -of white threads or cords—the -nerves, which form what is called the -peripheral part of the nervous system. -Of these nerves one set proceed forth -from the central part of the nervous -system to the different muscles, which -they can cause to contract by a peculiar -action they exert upon them, thus producing -motion. Another set of nerves -proceed inwards, from the skin to the -central part of the nervous system, and -by their peculiar action give rise to -various sensations, according as different -influences or stimulations are brought -to bear upon the skin at, or in the vicinity -of, their peripheral extremities. -Under ordinary circumstances, different -stimulations of the surface of the body -convey an influence inwards, which produces -sensation, and give rise to an -outwardly proceeding influence to the -muscles, resulting in definite and appropriate -motions.</p> - -<p>There are cases in which responsive -actions take place under very abnormal -conditions—as after a rupture of part of -a man’s spinal cord, or the removal of -the whole brain in lower animals, such -as the frog. A man so injured may -have utterly lost the power of feeling -any stimulation—pricking, cutting, or -burning—of his legs and feet, the injury -preventing the conveyance upwards to -the brain of the influence necessary to -ordinary sensation, and stopping short -at the spinal cord below the point of injury. -Nevertheless, such a man may -execute movements in response to stimuli -just as if he did feel, and often in an -exaggerated manner. He will withdraw -his foot if tickled with a feather just as -if he felt the tickling, which he is utterly -incapable of feeling. Similarly a decapitated -frog will make with his hind -legs the most appropriate movements -to remove any irritating object applied -to the hinder part of its body. Such -action is termed “reflex action,” on -the supposition that the influence conveyed -inwards by nerves going from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span> -the skin to the spinal cord is reflected -back from that cord to the muscles by -the other set of nerves without any -intervention of sensation. This action -of the frog may be carried to a very -singular extreme. At the breeding -season the male frog tightly grasps the -female behind her arms, and to enable -him the more securely to maintain his -hold, a warty prominence is then developed -on the inner side of each of -his hands. Now if such a male frog -be taken, and not only decapitated, but -the whole hinder part of the body removed -also, so that nothing remains but -the fragment of the trunk from which -the two arms with their nerves proceed, -and if under these circumstances the -warty prominences be touched, the two -arms will immediately close together -like a spring, thus affording a most perfect -example of reflex action. It has -been objected by the late Mr. G. H. -Lewes and others that we cannot be -sure but that the spinal cord itself -“feels.” But there is often an ambiguity -in the use of the term “to feel.” -By it we ordinarily mean a “modification -of consciousness;” but experiences -such as those just adverted to, and -others in ourselves to which I shall next -advert, show clearly that surrounding -agents may act upon our sense organs -without the intervention of anything -like consciousness, and yet produce -effects otherwise similar to those which -occur when they do arouse consciousness. -Without, then, entering into -any discussion as to whether “sentiency” -may or may not be attributed -to the spinal cord, it seems evident that -some definite term is required to denote -such affections or modifications of living -beings as those just referred to. Inasmuch -as they are affections of creatures -possessing a nervous system, which is -the essential organ of sensation, and as -they resemble sensation in their causes -and effects though feeling itself may be -absent, they may be provisionally distinguished -as “unfelt sensations.” Such -are some of the actions with which instinct -is contrasted, because, unlike instinct, -they are not carried on by the aid -of felt sensations, the highest of such insentient -action being reflex action.</p> - -<p>There are also a number of actions -which constantly recur in ourselves,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span> -which more or less nearly approximate -to reflex action. Thus the respiratory -movements, the various muscular motions -by the aid of which we breathe, -are ordinarily performed by us without -advertence, though we can, if we will, -perform them with self-conscious deliberation. -It is well also to note that -when our mind is entirely directed upon -some external object, or when we are -almost in a state of somnolent unconsciousness, -we have but a vague feeling -of our existence—a feeling resulting -from the unobserved synthesis of our -sensations of all orders and degrees. -This unintellectual sense of “self” -may be conveniently distinguished from -intellectual consciousness as “consentience.” -We may also, as everybody -knows, suddenly recollect sights or -sounds which were quite unnoticed at -the time we experienced them; yet our -very recollection of them proves that -they must, nevertheless, have affected -our sensorium. Such unnoticed modifications -of our sense organs may also -be provisionally included in the category -of those actions of the lower animals, -before provisionally denominated “unfelt -sensations.” It is not, however, -with such inferior activities as reflex and -other insentient actions that instinct is -commonly contrasted, but with “reason.” -Now “reasonable,” “consciously -intelligent”conduct is understood by -all men to mean conduct in which there -is a more or less wise adaptation of -means to ends—a conscious, deliberate -adaptation, not one due to accident only. -No one would call an act done blindly -a reasonable or intelligent action on the -part of him who did it, however fortunate -might be its result. Instinctive -actions, then, hold a middle place between -(1) those which are rational, or -truly intelligent, and (2) those in which -sensation has no place. But a great -variety of actions of different kinds -occupy this intermediate position, and -we must next proceed to separate off -from the others, such actions as may be -deemed <em>truly</em> instinctive.</p> - -<p>M. Albert Lemoine, who has written -the best treatise<a id="FNanchor_3_3" href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">3</a> known to us on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span> -instinct and habit, distinguishes instinctive -actions as those which are neither -due to mechanical or chemical causes, -nor to intelligence, experience, or will. -They are actions which take place with -a general fixity and precision, are generally -present in all the individuals of -each species, and can be perfectly -performed the very first time their action -is called for, so that they cannot be due -to habit. Instinct, he very truly says, -is more than a want and less than a desire. -Instinct is a certain felt internal -stimulus to definite actions which has -its foundation in a certain sense of want, -but is not definite feeling of want of the -particular end to be attained. Were -that recognised, it would not be <em>instinct</em>, -but <em>desire</em>. It is but a vague craving -to exercise certain activities the exercise -of which conduces to useful or needful, -but unforeseen, end. Instinct often sets -in motion organs quite different from -those which feel the prick of want, and -which do not (experience apart) seem -to have relation with it. Hunger does -not stimulate to action the organs of -digestion which suffer from it, but excites -the limbs and jaws to perform acts -by which food may be obtained and -eaten. In examining into instinct, we -must be careful not to omit the consideration -of it as it exists in man, since -we can know no creature so well as we -can, by the help of language and reflection, -know ourselves and our own -species. Nevertheless, it may be well -to begin by calling attention to certain -apparently undeniable cases of instinct -in other animals, since in them instinct -is much more apparent and complex -than in man, in whom it is indeed reduced -to a minimum. It might naturally -be expected to be so reduced in -him—if it is a power serving to bridge -over the gulf which exists between such -almost mechanical action as reflex action, -and true intelligence—since in man -acts of intelligence, or habits originated -through intelligence, come so constantly -into play. But before enumerating cases -of animal instinct, a word should be -said as to one character which M. -Lemoine attributes to instinctive action, -namely, “consciousness,” This term -is an exceedingly ambiguous one, as it -is often referred, not only to our distinct<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span> -intellectual perception of our own being -and acts, but also to every state of feeling -however rudimentary it may be. I -would therefore avoid the use of so -equivocal a term, while fully admitting -that no sensation in any animal is possible -without some subjective psychical -state analogous to what I have before -denominated “consentience.” Now, -as to the lower animals: birds unquestionably -possess instinctive powers. -Chickens, two minutes after they have -left the egg,<a id="FNanchor_4_4" href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">4</a> will follow with their eyes -the movements of crawling insects, and -peck at them, judging distance and -direction with almost infallible accuracy. -They will instinctively appreciate -sounds, readily running towards an invisible -hen hidden in a box, when they -hear her “call.” Some young birds, -also, have an innate, instinctive horror -of the sight of a hawk and of the sound -of its voice. Swallows, titmice, tomtits, -and wrens, after having been confined -from birth, are capable of flying successfully -at once, when liberated, on -their wings having attained the necessary -growth to render flight possible. The -Duke of Argyll<a id="FNanchor_5_5" href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">5</a> relates some very -interesting particulars about the instincts -of birds, especially of the water ousel, -the merganser, and the wild duck. Even -as to the class of beasts I find recorded:<a id="FNanchor_6_6" href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">6</a> -“Five young polecats were found -comfortably embedded in dry withered -grass; and in a side hole, of proper -dimensions for such a larder, were forty -frogs and two toads, all alive, but merely -capable of sprawling a little. On examination -the whole number, toads and -all, proved to have been purposely and -dexterously bitten through the brain.” -Evidently the parent polecat had thus -provided the young with food which -could be kept perfectly fresh, because -alive, and yet was rendered quite unable -to escape. This singular instinct is -like others which are yet more fully developed -amongst insects—a class of animals -the instincts of which are so numerous, -wonderful, and notorious that it will -be, probably, enough to refer to one or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span> -two examples. The female carpenter -bee, in order to protect her eggs, excavates, -in some piece of wood, a series -of chambers, in special order with a view -to a peculiar mode of exit for her young: -but the young mother can have no conscious -knowledge of the series of actions -subsequently to ensue. The female of -the wasp, <i>sphex</i>, affords another well-known -but very remarkable example of -a complex instinct closely related to that -already mentioned in the case of the -polecat. The female wasp has to provide -fresh, living animal food for her -progeny, which, when it quits its egg, -quits it in the form of an almost helpless -grub, utterly unable to catch, retain, or -kill an active, struggling prey. Accordingly -the mother insect has only to provide -and place beside her eggs suitable -living prey, but so to treat it that it -may be a helpless, unresisting victim. -That victim may be a mere caterpillar, -or it may be a great, powerful grasshopper, -or even that most fierce, active, -and rapacious of insect tyrants, a fell -and venomous spider. Whichever it -may be, the wasp adroitly stings it at -the spot which induces, or in the several -spots which induce, complete paralysis -as to motion, let us hope as to sensation -also. This done, the wasp entombs -the helpless being with its own -egg, and leaves it for the support of the -future grub. Another species feeds -her young one from time to time with -fresh food, visiting at suitable intervals -the nest she has made and carefully -covered and concealed with earth, which -she removes and replaces, as far as -necessary, at each visit. If the opening -be made ready for her, this, instead of -helping her to get at her young, -altogether puzzles her, and she no -longer seems to recognise her young, -thus showing how thoroughly “instinctive” -her proceedings are. Other -instances of instinct, such as those of the -stag-beetle and emperor moth, I will -refer to presently. But most wonderful, -perhaps, of all are the instincts -of social insects, such as bees, where -there are not only males and females, -but a large population of practically -neuter insects, the special instincts and -peculiarities of which have of course -to be transmitted, not directly by an -antecedent set of neuter animals, but by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span> -females, the instincts and peculiarities -of which are very different from those -of the neutral portion of their progeny.</p> - -<p>The instincts we have hitherto noticed, -and, I may say briefly, the instincts -of animals generally, are destined to -subserve two functions, (1) the preservation -and, mainly, the nutrition, of -the individual, and (2) the reproduction -of the species. Armed with the facts -we have now noticed, let us turn to -consider instinct as it displays itself in -ourselves. As one example, there is -the instinct action by which an infant -first sucks the nipple, and then swallows -the thence-extracted nourishment -with which its mouth is filled. This -action must be reckoned as instinctive, -because it is done directly after birth, -when there has been no time for learning -to perform the action; it is one -absolutely necessary for the life of the -infant; it is an action which is definite -and precise, similarly performed by all -the individuals of the species, though -effected by a very complex mechanism, -and is effected prior to experience. Yet -it is not as mechanical as reflex action, -for not only sensation, but consentience, -accompanies the act. Thus sucking in -man is an instinctive action, while spitting, -on the other hand, is an art. The -latter is not necessary to life, and the -power of performing it is slowly acquired -by experience, as are also our powers of -walking and feeding ourselves. But -the action of sucking in an adult human -being is of course not instinctive; and -because the child learns to walk, it by -no means follows that the insect learns -to fly. It is thus plain that actions -may be instinctive in one animal and -not in another; or at one period of life -in the same animal and not at another. -In a child, however, sucking, deglutition, -inspiration, and expiration are -instinctive actions, as are also those by -which the products of excretion are -removed from the body. The second -class of instincts, those which ensure -the continuance of the race, show -themselves of course, only much later. -Yet, long before the little girl can -represent to herself future tributes to -her charms, she seeks to decorate her -tiny body with the arts of infant -coquetry. Still less does she look forward -to the pains and pleasures of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span> -maternity when she begins to caress -and chastise, to soothe and cherish, her -first doll, and fondly presses it to that -region whence her future offspring will -draw its nourishment. Again, when the -lapse of a few years having made her a -young woman and the boy a youth, they -first feel the influence of love, however -ignorant they may be of the physiology -of their race, they will none the less, -circumstances permitting, be surely -impelled towards the performance of -very definite actions. In the more refined -individuals of the highest races of -mankind, the material, merely animal, -consummation of sexual love is most -certainly far from being the one great -end distinctly looked forward to by each -pair of lovers. Yet every incident of -affectionate intercourse, every tender -glance, every contact of hand or lip, -infallibly leads on towards the one useful -end, indispensable to the race, which -nature has in view. Such actions fully -merit to be called “instinctive.” Indeed -the act of generation is ministered to in -nature by the most manifold, imperious, -general, and inexplicable of all the instincts, -and its instinctive character is -the most strongly marked of all. It has -emphatically for its origin a rigorously -determined and precise want, partly -painful, partly pleasurable—a mixture -of a feeling of privation with a sense of -power. Its end is unknown to the -agent, or if known is disregarded, and -in almost all animals it demands the -concurrent and reciprocal action of -two diverse organisms. If anyone would -deny that it is instinctive in man, I -would advise him to study the sad -phenomena connected therewith which -may be observed in our asylums for the -insane.</p> - -<p>There are other human actions which -are sometimes reckoned as instinctive, -such as guarding the eye against injury -by suddenly closing the eyelids. This -action, however, appears to be an acquired -art, though the habitual act of -winking to keep clean the surface of the -eye may be instinctive. Some other -actions, however, not generally regarded -as instinctive, I should be disposed so -to regard. Such are the first <em>active</em> -exercises of the senses of seeing, hearing, -smelling, tasting, and feeling (the first -“looking,” the first “listening,” etc.)<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> -which the child performs at the very -beginning of its learning to perform -them. It would seem, then, as if no -one could deny the existence of such a -thing as instinct, and yet it has been -denied, not only in recent times, but -centuries ago. Thus Montaigne sought -to explain instinct as but a form of -intelligence, while Descartes taught -that it was but mechanism. Condillac -regarded it as the result of individual -experience, and Lemarck considered it -to be merely “habit” which had become -hereditary. In our own day -Darwin has sought to explain it as partly -the result of accidental variations of -activity, which variations have become -naturally selected, and partly the result -of intelligent, purposive action which -has become habitual and inherited. Let -us consider these attempts at explanation -seriatim. First as to mechanism: -This is an hypothesis no one at present -entertains, as everyone now credits -animals with sensitivity. Moreover, -instincts are not absolutely invariable, -but are modifiable according to the -degree of “intelligence” which animals -possess. They cannot, therefore, be due -merely to a mechanism. The attempt -to explain “Instinct” by mere “reflex -action” is equivalent to an attempt to -explain a phenomenon by omitting its -most striking characteristic. In “reflex -action” we have a sudden response to -a stimulus, which response is more or -less purposive as regards the time of its -occurrence, but has no reference to -future events to occur long after the -faintest waves of the stimulating action -have died out. The very essence of -“instinct,” however, <cite>is</cite> to provide for -a more or less distant future, often, as -we have seen, the future of another -generation. It is essentially <cite>telic</cite>, and -directed to a future unforeseen, but -generally useful, end. This explanation, -then, is fundamentally and necessarily -inadequate. It is like an explanation -of the building of a house, by -“bricks, mortar, bricklayers, and hodmen,” -with the omission of all reference -to any influence governing their motions -and directing them towards a common -and predetermined end which is -not theirs. But though we cannot -<cite>explain</cite> “instinct” by “reflex action,” -there is none the less a certain obvious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span> -affinity between these two forms of -animal activity, and it is in part my -object to point out the nature of this -very affinity.</p> - -<p>Next we may pass in review the two -hypotheses that instinct is but (1) a -form of intelligence, or (2) individual -experience. As to the first, I have -already given instances of unquestionably -instinctive actions performed by -birds as soon as they quit the eggshell, -and it would be but waste of time to -argue against the view that the human -infant is guided by intelligent purpose -and conscious foresight in his very first -acts of sucking, swallowing, and defecation. -Actual intelligence, therefore, is -a radically insufficient explanation, as -also, for the very same reasons, is Condillac’s -hypothesis as to individual experience. -About “lapsed intelligence” -I will speak later on. Lemarck’s hypothesis, -that instinct is but inherited habit, -is one which is much more worthy of -careful consideration than any we have -yet considered. For it may be admitted -at once that habits may be inherited. -There are many instances of such inheritance -in human beings, and as -regards the lower animals, the barking -of dogs may be taken as an instance of -a habit thus perpetuated. In fact -“habit,” when inherited, so simulates -instinct, that their confusion is far -from surprising. There is, however, -this radical difference between them: -“habit” enables an agent to repeat -with facility and precision an act which -has been done before, but “instinct” -determines with precision the first performance -of such act. Referring instinct -to habit, but temporarily relieves the -difficulty of those who object to instinct, -by putting it a step back. It is impossible -to believe that any of the progenitors -of an infant of to-day first acquired, -during his or her lifetime, the habit of -sucking, or that the habits of neuter -insects thus arose. But after all, if we -<cite>could</cite> explain “instinct” by “habit,” -should we thereby make the phenomena -less mysterious? “Habit” is due to -an internal spontaneity of living things. -A living thing no doubt requires some -internal solicitation, in order that it -should move, but when it does move -that movement is <cite>its own</cite>. All living -organisms tend to act. With them ac<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span>tion -is not only their nature, ’tis a want; -and, within limits, their powers and -energies increase with action, and diminish -and finally perish through repose. -The power of generating any “habits,” -lies in the very first act of the kind an -organism performs, and it is only the -first act which owes nothing to habit. -If such were not the case, an act might -be performed a thousand times and yet -not generate habit. It is this mysterious -internal active tendency which distinguishes -all living organisms from inorganic -bodies. The latter tend simply -to persist as they are, and have no relations -with the past or the future. They -have, therefore, no relations with time -at all—for the actual present ever evades -us. Organisms, on the other hand, -which are permanently more or less -changed, through habit, by every new -motion and sensation, have their future -prepared by their past, and thus, as it -were, at every present moment they live -both in the past and in the future, a -mode of existence which attains its -fullest development in the highest living -organism—man, the creature looking -before and after! Thus those who -would do away with mystery in nature -would gain little by explaining instinct -through habit, though, as we have seen, -the phenomena presented to us by the -human infant and by neuter insects -absolutely bar any such explanation. -Moreover, the attempt to explain “instinct” -through “inheritance” is a -contradiction, since “inheritance” supposes -something already obtained, otherwise -it could not be transmitted. So far, -then, from “hereditary transmission” -explaining “instinct,” instinct, in whatever -remote ancestor it first arose, must -have been a violation of the law of hereditary -transmission.</p> - -<p>Now as to “lapsed intelligence:” -This hypothesis assumes that a conscious -deliberate, discriminating faculty must -have once been exercised by wasps, -bees, ants, and other much more lowly -animals, in the performance of all those -actions which are now instinctive. But -could the adult female insect be supposed -to foresee the future needs of her -progeny, often so totally different from -her own wants? It would surely be too -much to ask us to believe that she could -distinctly recollect all her past experi<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span>ence -as a chrysalis and as a grub from -the moment she first quitted the egg. -Can we suppose that the generative acts -of male insects, such as bees, could have -been due to deliberate and rational -choice, when every such act is necessarily -fatal to him who performs it?</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, persuaded as I am that -“lapsed intelligence” will not explain -“instinct” generally, I should be the -last to deny that certain apparently instinctive -actions may be so explained, -and I fully admit that intelligent action -in ourselves does tend to become practically -though not really instinctive. -It is, moreover, very fortunate for us -that such is the case, as thereby we are -saved great mental friction. Our intellect -has first to be laboriously applied to -learn what afterwards becomes almost -automatic, as the actions of reading, -writing, etc. Sensations and bodily -actions having been duly kneaded -together, the intellect becomes free to -withdraw and apply itself to other work—fresh -conquests of mere animality—leaving -the organism to carry on automatically -the new faculties thus acquired. -Were it not for this power which we -have of withdrawing our attention, our -intellect would be absorbed and wasted -in the merest routine work, instead of -being set free to appropriate and render -practically instinctive, a continually -wider and more important range of deliberate -purposive actions. We come -now to the sixth and last attempt to explain -instinct, namely, Mr. Darwin’s -attempt. He has recognised the futility -of seeking to explain many instinctive -actions in any of the modes we have yet -considered, and he has proposed, as before -said, to explain such residual instinctive -phenomena by the play of -natural selection, <i>i.e.</i> of the destructive -forces of nature upon small, accidental -abnormalities of action on the part of -individuals of a species; such abnormalities, -when favorable to the existence of -the individual, being preserved and perpetuated -by the destruction of the other -individuals of the same species who adhered -to their ancestral tendencies. But -this proposed explanation is not an explanation -of the <em>origin</em> of instincts, but -only of the changes and transformations -of instincts already acquired. But putting -back the date or modifying the form<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> -of the original instinct, in no way alters -the essential nature of instincts or diminishes -its mystery. Let us look at one -or two strong cases of instinct, and see -if it is credible that they should be due -to mere accidental, haphazard, minute -changes in habits already acquired. In -the first place, there is the wonderful -instinct of the duck, which feigns to -have an injured wing, in order to entice -a dog away from the pursuit of her -ducklings. Is it conceivable that such -an act was first done by pure accident, -and that the descendants of her who so -acted, having inherited the tendency, -have been alone selected and preserved? -Again, there is the case of the wasp, -sphex, which stings spiders, caterpillars, -and grasshoppers exactly in the spot, -or spots, where their nervous ganglia -lie, and so paralyses them. Even the -strongest advocate of the intelligence of -insects would not affirm that the mother -sphex has a knowledge of the comparative -anatomy of the nervous system of -these very diversely formed insects. -According to the doctrine of natural -selection, either an ancestral wasp must -have accidentally stung them each in the -right places, and so our sphex of to-day -is the naturally selected descendant of -a line of insects which inherited this -lucky tendency to sting different insects -differently, but always in the exact situation -of their nervous ganglia; or else -the young of the ancestral sphex originally -fed on dead food, but the offspring -of some individuals who happened to -sting their prey so as to paralyse but not -kill them, were better nourished and so -the habit grew. But the incredible supposition -that the ancestor should accidentally -have acquired the habit of stinging -different insects differently, but -always in the right spot, is not eliminated -by the latter hypothesis.</p> - -<p>There is, again, the case of neuter -insects and the highly complex instincts -of insects living in communities, such -as bees, ants, and termites. The Darwinian -theory has the great advantage -of only needing for its support the suggestion -of some possible utility in each -case; and as all structures and functions -in nature have their utility, the -task is not a difficult one for an ingenious, -patient, and accomplished thinker. -Yet Mr. Darwin, with all his ingenuity,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> -patience, and accomplishments, has -been unable to suggest a rational explanation -for the accidental origin of -these insect communities with their -marvellously complex instincts. I will -confine myself to one more instance of -a highly noteworthy instinct, which no -one has in any way succeeded in explaining. -The instance I refer to is that -by which an animal, when an enemy approaches, -lies quite quiescent and apparently -helpless, an action often spoken -of as “shamming death.” To evade -the force of this remarkable case of -instinct, it has been objected that the -disposition of the limbs adopted by -insects which thus act, is not the same -as that which the limbs assume when -such insects are really dead, and that -all species are not when thus acting equally -quiescent. The first observation, -however, does not concern the -matter really at issue. The remarkable -thing is not that a helpless insect should -assume the position of its own dead, but -that such a creature, instead of trying -to escape, should adopt a mode of procedure -utterly hopeless unless the -enemy’s attention is thereby effectually -eluded. It is impossible that this -instinct could have been gradually -gained by the elimination of all those -individuals who did not practice it, for -if the quiescence, whether absolutely -complete or not, were not sufficient at -once to make the creature elude observation, -its destruction would be only -the more fully insured by such ineffectual -quiescence. The same argument -applies to birds which seem to feign -lameness or other injury. Yet even if -we could account for these cases, which -as a fact are as yet entirely unaccounted -for, it would not do away with the need -of recognising the real existence and -peculiar nature of instinct. It would -not do so on account both of man’s -highest and of man’s lowest instinctive -powers. To speak first of the former: -as instinct, such as we have hitherto discovered, -is the appointed bridge between -mere organic and intellectual animal -life, so there is in man a further development -of instinct, peculiar to him, and -serving to bridge over the gulf between -mere intelligent animal faculty and distinctly -human reflective intellectual -activity. Such special intellectual in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span>stinct -is that which impels man to the -external manifestation by voice or gesture -of the mental abstractions which his -intellect spontaneously forms, and which -are not formed by the lower animals, -which give no evidence of this power of -abstraction. Language could never -have been deliberately invented nor -have arisen by a mere accidental individual -variation, for vocal and gesture -signs are essentially conventional, and -require more or less comprehension on -the part of those to whom they are addressed -as well as on the part of those -who use them. Analogous considerations -apply to the first beginnings of -what cannot be reckoned as merely instinctive -activities, but the origins of -which must have been akin to instincts. -I refer to the beginnings of literature, -art, science and politics, which were -never deliberately invented. Even men -who supposed they were inventing and -constructing a certain new order of -things with full purpose and much intelligence, -have really been all the time so -dominated by influences beyond their -consciousness, that they really evolved -something very different from what they -supposed or intended. This fact has -been most instructively shown by De -Tocqueville and Taine with respect to -the men who promoted and carried -through the great French Revolution. -So much, then, for man’s highest instinctive -powers: but our argument has no -need to refer to them, for a consideration -of man’s lowest instinctive powers -alone suffices to show that they cannot -be due to “natural selection,” even -when aided by “lapsed intelligence.” -Can it be for a moment seriously maintained -that such actions of the infant as -those of the sucking, deglutition, and -defecation, or the sexual instincts of -later life, ever arose through the accidental -conservation of haphazard variations -of habit in ancestral animals? If -it cannot be maintained, as I am confident -it cannot, then it is absolutely -impossible successfully to evade the -difficulty of the existence of instinct. -However far we may put back the -beginnings of instinct, the question as -to its origin (with its subsequent modifications) -ever returns, and indeed with -increased importunity. How did the -first sentient creatures obtain and swal<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span>low -their food? How did they first -come to fecundate their ova or suitably -to deposit them? How did they first -effect such movements as might be -necessary for their respiratory processes? -Wherever such phenomena first -manifested themselves in sentient organisms, -we are compelled therein to recognise -the manifest presence of instinct—the -appointed means (as before said) of -bridging over the interval between the -purely vegetative functions and the -intelligent activities of sentient animal -life. “Natural selection” is manifestly -impotent to account for the existence of -such a faculty as that of “instinct.” -We have already seen that the hypothesis -of “lapsed intelligence” is also impotent -to account for it. Thus the most -recently attempted explanation falls altogether -to the ground. Nevertheless -the theory of evolution renders it necessary -to assume that as new species of -animals were from time to time evolved, -so also were new and appropriate instincts. -How then are we to account -for the origin of such new instincts? -That a certain mystery attends such origin -cannot be denied, but a parallel mystery -attends all other kinds of vital phenomena. -What can be more mysterious -than the purely organic functions of animals? -Though not truly instinctive, -they are full of unconscious purpose, and -so are akin to instinct. Our nutrition is -a process of self-generation by which the -various bodies which constitute our food -become transformed into our own substance. -This process is effected by -what is called assimilation, by which -process the ultimate substance, or parenchyma, -of our own body and of the -bodies transforms part of what is immediately -external to it, into the parenchyma -itself. Again, the process of -secretion is, as it were, parallel to the -process of alimentation or nutrition. In -secretion, the body extracts from the -blood new substances (the secretions) -which do not exist <em>as such</em> within it. In -nutrition, the body extracts from the -blood new substances (the various tissues) -which do not exist <em>as such</em> within -it. The blood is not the only source of -our nutrition, since it has the power of -replenishing itself. Thus the living -particles which form the ultimate substance -of our body exercise a certain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span> -power of choice with respect to the contents -of the fluids which come in contact -with them. Such particles are not -passive bodies; they are active living -agents, and their action no one has yet -really explained. Here, then, are a set -of activities which, if duly pondered -over, will be found to be fully as -mysterious and inexplicable in their unconscious -teleology as any phenomena -of instinct as ordinarily understood. But -there is another class of organic vital -actions which also seem to have a decided -affinity both to reflex action and to -instinct, though they are not to be -regarded as actual instances of either of -these faculties. The actions I refer to -are those which bring about the repair -of injuries and the reproduction of lost -parts. They are like reflex action inasmuch -as they take place in perfect unconsciousness -and without the will having -any power over them. They are -like instinct inasmuch as they are -directed towards a useful and unforeseen -end. In the process of healing and -repair of a wounded part of the body, a -fluid, perfectly structureless substance, -is secreted, or poured forth, from the -parts about the wound. In this substance, -cells arise and become abundant; -so that the substance, at first structureless, -becomes what is called cellular -tissue. Then, by degrees, this structure -transforms itself into vessels, tendons, -nerves, bone, and membrane—into some -or all of such parts—according to the -circumstances of the case. In a case of -broken bone, the two broken ends of -the bone soften, the sharp edges thus -disappearing. Then a soft substance is -secreted, and this becomes at first gelatinous, -often afterwards cartilaginous, -and, finally, osseous or bony. But not -only do these different kinds of substance—these -distinct tissues—thus arise -and develop themselves in this neutral -or, as it is called, “undifferentiated” -substance, but very complex structures, -appropriately formed and nicely adjusted -for the performance of complex functions, -may also be developed. We see -this in the production of admirably -formed joints in parts which were at first -devoid of anything of the kind. I may -quote, as an example, the case of a -railway guard, whose arm had been so -injured that he had been compelled to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span> -have the elbow with its joint cut out, -but who afterwards developed a new -joint almost as good as the old one. In -the uninjured condition the outer bone -of the lower arm—the radius—ends -above in a smooth-surfaced cup, which -plays against part of the lower end of -the bone of the upper arm, or humerus, -while its side also plays against the side -of the other bone of the lower arm, the -ulna, with the interposition of a cartilaginous -surface. The radius and ulna -are united to the humerus by dense and -strong membranes or ligaments, which -pass between it and them, anteriorly, -posteriorly, and on each side, and are -attached to projecting processes, one -on each side of the humerus. Such was -the condition of the parts which were -removed by the surgeon. Nine years -after the operation the patient died, and -Mr. Syme had the opportunity of dissecting -the arm, which in the meantime -had served the poor man perfectly well, -he having been in the habit of swinging -himself by it from one carriage to -another, while the train was in motion, -quite as easily and securely as with the -other arm. On examination, Mr. Syme -found that the amputated end of the -radius had formed a fresh polished surface, -and played both on the humerus -and the ulna, a material something like -cartilage being interposed. The ends -of the bones of the forearm were locked -in by two processes projecting downwards -from the humerus, and also strong -lateral and still stronger anterior and -posterior ligaments again bound them -fast to the last-named bone.<a id="FNanchor_7_7" href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">7</a> It would -be easy to bring forward a number of -more or less similar cases. The amount -of reproduction of lost parts which may -take place in many of the lower animals -is astonishing. Thus the tails of lizards, -if broken off, will grow again, and the -limbs of newts will be reproduced, with -their bones, muscles, blood-vessels, -and nerves. Even the eye and the lower -jaw have been seen to be reproduced in -the last-named animals. If certain -worms be cut in two, each half will -become a perfect animal, the head producing -a new tail, and the tail a new -head; and a worm called a <i>nais</i> has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span> -been cut into as many as twenty-five -parts with a like result. But the most -remarkable animal for its power of repairing -injuries is the fresh-water hydra, -almost any fragment of which will, -under favorable circumstances, grow -into a new and entire fresh animal. It -is also a notorious and very noteworthy -fact that, in both man and the lower -animals, the processes of repair take -place the more readily the younger the -age of the injured individual may be. -But these unconscious but practically -teleological processes of repair, are often -preceded by actions which everyone -would call instinctive.</p> - -<p>There is yet another class of organic -vital actions to which I must advert, -which are at once utterly unconscious, -while the fact that they are directed to -a distinct end is indisputable; in fact -they are purposive in the very highest -degree that any unconscious actions -can be purposive. They are the actions -of true reproduction, and they come -before us naturally here, since a consideration -of the process of remedial -reproduction in the individual, naturally -leads us on to the consideration <em>of the -reproduction of the species itself</em>. In the -cases of the frog and the butterfly, everyone -knows that the creature which -comes forth from the egg is very different -from the parent. Animals, in fact, -mostly attain their adult condition by -passing through a series of development -changes; only as a rule that series is -not abruptly interrupted by plainly -marked pauses, as it is in the frog and -butterfly, and, therefore, such changes, -instead of being obvious, are only to be -detected with difficulty and through patient -research. Almost every animal -thus goes through a series of very remarkable -changes during its individual -process of development or, as it is called,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span> -during its “ontogeny.” This process, -in its perfect unconsciousness, is like -reflex action, but it is far more wonderful, -since in the earliest stages even -nerve-tissue is absent and has itself to -be formed. In the accuracy of its -direction towards a useful end, it is the -very counterpart of the most developed -instinct; nor, if the impulses by which -adult individuals are led to seek and to -perform those processes which give rise -to the embryo, are to be called instinctive, -is it easy to see how the analogical -use of the term “instinctive” can be -refused to that impulse by which each -developing embryo is led to go through -those processes which give rise to the -adult. The action of each organism -during its individual development may -be compared, and has evidently much -affinity with, the processes of nutrition -and the repair and reproduction of parts -lost through some injury. These processes -of nutrition and repair have also -evidently a close relation to reflex action -and reflex action has also a close affinity -to instinctive action. Instead, however, -of explaining “instinct” by “reflex -action,” I would rather explain reflex -action, processes of nutrition, processes -of repair, processes of individual development, -by instinct—using this term -in a wide analogical sense. For we know -the wonderful action and nature of -instinct as it exists in our own human -activity, standing, as it were, at the -head of the various unconsciously intelligent -vital processes. These processes -seem to me to be all diverse manifestations -of what is fundamentally one kind -of activity. Of these manifestations, -instinctive action is the best type, -because by it we can, to a certain extent, -understand the others, whereas none of -the others enable us to understand instinct.—<cite>Fortnightly -Review.</cite></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="A_VERY_OLD_MASTER">A VERY OLD MASTER.</h2> - - -<p>The work of art which lies before me -is old, unquestionably old; a good deal -older, in fact, than Archbishop Ussher -(who invented all out of his own archiepiscopal -head the date commonly assigned -for the creation of the world) -would by any means have been ready to -admit. It is a bas-relief by an old master, -considerably more antique in origin -than the most archaic gem or intaglio in -the Museo Borbonico at Naples, the -mildly decorous Louvre in Paris, or the -eminently respectable British Museum, -which is the glory of our own smoky London -in the spectacled eyes of German professors, -all put together. When Assyrian<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span> -sculptors carved in fresh white alabaster -the flowing curls of Sennacherib’s hair, -just like a modern coachman’s wig, this -work of primæval art was already hoary -with the rime of ages. When Memphian -artists were busy in the morning twilight -of time with the towering coiffure of -Ramses or Sesostris, this far more ancient -relic of plastic handicraft was lying, -already fossil and forgotten, beneath -the concreted floor of a cave in the Dordogne. -If we were to divide the period -for which we possess authentic records -of man’s abode upon this oblate spheroid -into ten epochs—an epoch being a -good high-sounding word which doesn’t -commit one to any definite chronology -in particular—then it is probable that all -known art, from the Egyptian onward, -would fall into the tenth of the epochs -thus loosely demarcated, while my old -French bas-relief would fall into the -first. To put the date quite succinctly, -I should say it was most likely about -244,000 years before the creation of -Adam according to Ussher.</p> - -<p>The work of the old master is lightly -incised on reindeer horn, and represents -two horses, of a very early and heavy -type, following one another, with heads -stretched forward, as if sniffing the air -suspiciously in search of enemies. The -horses would certainly excite unfavorable -comment at Newmarket. Their -“points” are undoubtedly coarse and -clumsy: their heads are big, thick, stupid, -and ungainly; their manes are -bushy and ill-defined; their legs are distinctly -feeble and spindle-shaped; their -tails more closely resemble the tail of the -domestic pig than that of the noble animal -beloved with a love passing the love -of women by the English aristocracy. -Nevertheless there is little (if any) reason -to doubt that my very old master did, on -the whole, accurately represent the ancestral -steed of his own exceedingly remote -period. There were once horses -even as is the horse of the prehistoric -Dordognian artist. Such clumsy, big-headed -brutes, dun in hue and striped -down the back like modern donkeys, did -actually once roam over the low plains -where Paris now stands, and browse off -lush grass and tall water-plants around -the quays of Bordeaux and Lyons. Not -only do the bones of the contemporary -horses, dug up in caves, prove this, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span> -quite recently the Russian traveller -Prjevalsky (whose name is so much -easier to spell than to pronounce) has -discovered a similar living horse, which -drags on an obscure existence somewhere -in the high table-lands of Central -Asia. Prjevalsky’s horse (you see, as I -have only to write the word, without uttering -it, I don’t mind how often or how -intrepidly I use it) is so singularly like -the clumsy brutes that sat, or rather -stood, for their portraits to my old master -that we can’t do better than begin -by describing him <i lang="la">in propria persona</i>.</p> - -<p>The horse family of the present day is -divided, like most other families, into -two factions, which may be described -for variety’s sake as those of the true -horses and the donkeys, these latter including -also the zebras, quaggas, and -various other unfamiliar creatures whose -names, in very choice Latin, are only -known to the more diligent visitors at -the Sunday Zoo. Now everybody must -have noticed that the chief broad distinction -between these two great groups -consists in the feathering of the tail. -The domestic donkey, with his near congeners, -the zebra and co., have smooth -short-haired tails, ending in a single -bunch or fly-whisk of long hairs collected -together in a tufted bundle at the -extreme tip. The horse, on the other -hand, besides having horny patches or -callosities on both fore and hind legs, -while the donkeys have them on the fore -legs only, has a hairy tail, in which the -long hairs are almost equally distributed -from top to bottom, thus giving it its -peculiarly bushy and brushy appearance. -But Prjevalsky’s horse, as one would -naturally expect from an early intermediate -form, stands halfway in this respect -between the two groups, and acts the -thankless part of a family mediator; for -it has most of its long tail-hairs collected -in a final flourish, like the donkey, but -several of them spring from the middle -distance, as in the genuine Arab, though -never from the very top, thus showing -an approach to the true horsey habit -without actually attaining that final pinnacle -of equine glory. So far as one -can make out from the somewhat rude -handicraft of my prehistoric Phidias the -horse of the quaternary epoch had much -the same caudal peculiarity; his tail -was bushy, but only in the lower half.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span> -He was still in the intermediate stage -between horse and donkey, a natural -mule still struggling up aspiringly toward -perfect horsehood. In all other matters -the two creatures—the cave man’s horse -and Prjevalsky’s—closely agree. Both -display large heads, thick necks, coarse -manes, and a general disregard of -“points” which would strike disgust -and dismay into the stout breasts of -Messrs. Tattersall. In fact over a -T.Y.C. it may be confidently asserted, -in the pure Saxon of the sporting papers, -that Prjevalsky’s and the cave -man’s lot wouldn’t be in it. Nevertheless -a candid critic would be forced to -admit that, in spite of clumsiness, they -both mean staying.</p> - -<p>So much for the two sitters; now let -us turn to the artist who sketched them. -Who was he, and when did he live? -Well, his name, like that of many other -old masters, is quite unknown to us; -but what does that matter so long as his -work itself lives and survives? Like the -Comtists he has managed to obtain objective -immortality. The work, after all, -is for the most part all we ever have to -go upon. “I have my own theory about -the authorship of the Iliad and Odyssey,” -said Lewis Carroll (of “Alice in -Wonderland”) once in Christ Church -common room: “it is that they weren’t -really written by Homer, but by another -person of the same name.” There you -have the Iliad in a nutshell as regards -the authenticity of great works. All we -know about the supposed Homer (if anything) -is that he was the reputed author -of the two unapproachable Greek epics; -and all we know directly about my old -master, viewed personally, is that he -once carved with a rude flint flake on -a fragment of reindeer horn these two -clumsy prehistoric horses. Yet by putting -two and two together we can make, -not four, as might be naturally expected, -but a fairly connected history of the old -master himself and what Mr. Herbert -Spencer would no doubt playfully term -“his environment.”</p> - -<p>The work of art was dug up from under -the firm concreted floor of a cave in -the Dordogne. That cave was once inhabited -by the nameless artist himself, -his wife, and family. It had been previously -tenanted by various other early -families, as well as by bears, who seem<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span> -to have lived there in the intervals between -the different human occupiers. -Probably the bears ejected the men, and -the men in turn ejected the bears, by -the summary process of eating one another -up. In any case the freehold of -the cave was at last settled upon our -early French artist. But the date of -his occupancy is by no means recent; -for since he lived there the long cold -spell known as the Great Ice Age, or -Glacial Epoch, has swept over the whole -of Northern Europe, and swept before -it the shivering descendants of my poor -prehistoric old master. Now, how long -ago was the Great Ice Age? As a -rule, if you ask a geologist for a definite -date, you will find him very chary -of giving you a distinct answer. He -knows that chalk is older than the London -clay, and the oolite than the chalk, -and the red marl than the oolite; and he -knows also that each of them took a very -long time indeed to lay down, but exactly -how long he has no notion. If -you say to him, “Is it a million years -since the chalk was deposited?” he -will answer, like the old lady of Prague, -whose ideas were excessively vague, -“Perhaps,” If you suggest five millions, -he will answer oracularly once -more, “Perhaps;” and if you go on -to twenty millions, “Perhaps,” with a -broad smile, is still the only confession -of faith that torture will wring out of -him. But in the matter of the Glacial -Epoch, a comparatively late and almost -historical event, geologists have broken -through their usual reserve on this chronological -question and condescended to -give us a numerical determination. And -here is how Dr. Croll gets at it.</p> - -<p>Every now and again, geological evidence -goes to show us, a long cold spell -occurs in a northern or southern hemisphere. -During these long cold spells -the ice cap at the poles increases largely, -till it spreads over a great part of -what are now the temperate regions of -the globe, and makes ice a mere drug -in the market as far south as Covent -Garden or the Halles at Paris. During -the greatest extension of this ice sheet -in the last glacial epoch, in fact, all -England except a small south-western -corner (about Torquay and Bournemouth) -was completely covered by one -enormous mass of glaciers, as is still the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> -case with almost the whole of Greenland. -The ice sheet, grinding slowly over the -hills and rocks, smoothed and polished -and striated their surfaces in many -places till they resembled the <i lang="fr">roches -moutonnées</i> similarly ground down in -our own day by the moving ice rivers -of Chamouni and Grindelwald. Now, -since these great glaciations have occurred -at various intervals in the world’s -past history, they must depend upon -some frequently recurring cause. Such -a cause, therefore, Dr. Croll began ingeniously -to hunt about for.</p> - -<p>He found it at last in the eccentricity -of the earth’s orbit. This world of ours, -though usually steady enough in its -movements, is at times decidedly eccentric. -Not that I mean to impute to -our old and exceedingly respectable -planet any occasional aberrations of intellect, -or still less of morals (such as -might be expected from Mars and Venus); -the word is here to be accepted -strictly in its scientific or Pickwickian -sense as implying merely an irregularity -of movement, a slight wobbling out of -the established path, a deviation from -exact circularity. Owing to a combination -of astronomical revolutions, the -precession of the equinoxes and the -motion of the aphelion (I am not going -to explain them here; the names alone -will be quite sufficient for most people; -they will take the rest on trust)—owing -to the combination of these profoundly -interesting causes, I say, there occur -certain periods in the world’s life when -for a very long time together (10,500 -years, to be quite precise) the northern -hemisphere is warmer than the southern, -or <i lang="la">vice versa</i>. Now Dr. Croll has calculated -that about 250,000 years ago this -eccentricity of the earth’s orbit was at -its highest, so that a cycle of recurring -cold and warm epochs in either hemisphere -alternately then set in; and such -cold spells it was that produced the -Great Ice Age in Northern Europe. -They went on till about 80,000 years -ago, when they stopped short for the -present, leaving the climate of Britain -and the neighboring continent with its -existing inconvenient Laodicean temperature. -And, as there are good reasons -for believing that my old master and his -contemporaries lived just before the -greatest cold of the Glacial Epoch, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> -that his immediate descendants, with -the animals on which they feasted, were -driven out of Europe, or out of existence, -by the slow approach of the enormous -ice sheet, we may, I think, fairly -conclude that his date was somewhere -about <span class="smcap lowercase">B.C.</span> 248,000. In any case we -must at least admit, with Mr. Andrew -Lang, the laureate of the twenty-five -thousandth century, that</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">He lived in the long long agoes;</div> -<div class="verse">’Twas the manner of primitive man.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The old master, then, carved his -bas-relief in pre-Glacial Europe, just at -the moment before the temporary extinction -of his race in France by the -coming on of the Great Ice Age. We -can infer this fact from the character -of the fauna by which he was surrounded, -a fauna in which species of cold and -warm climates are at times quite capriciously -intermingled. We get the reindeer -and the mammoth side by side with -the hippopotamus and the hyena; we -find the chilly cave bear and the Norway -lemming, the musk sheep and the -Arctic fox in the same deposits with -the lion and the lynx, the leopard and -the rhinoceros. The fact is, as Mr. -Alfred Russel Wallace has pointed out, -we live to-day in a zoologically impoverished -world, from which all the largest, -fiercest, and most remarkable animals -have lately been weeded out. And -it was in all probability the coming on -of the Ice Age that did the weeding. -Our Zoo can boast no mammoth and -no mastodon. The sabre-toothed lion -has gone the way of all flesh; the -deinotherium and the colossal ruminants -of the Pliocene Age no longer browse -beside the banks of Seine. But our old -master saw the last of some at least -among those gigantic quadrupeds; it -was his hand or that of one among his -fellows that scratched the famous mammoth -etching on the ivory of La Madelaine -and carved the figure of the extinct -cave bear on the reindeer-horn ornaments -of Laugerie Basse. Probably, -therefore, he lived in the period immediately -preceding the Great Ice Age, or -else perhaps in one of the warm interglacial -spells with which the long secular -winter of the northern hemisphere was -then from time to time agreeably diversified.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span></p> - -<p>And what did the old master himself -look like? Well, painters have always -been fond of reproducing their own lineaments. -Have we not the familiar -young Raffael, painted by himself, and -the Rembrandt, and the Titian, and the -Rubens, and a hundred other self-drawn -portraits, all flattering and all famous? -Even so primitive man has drawn himself -many times over, not indeed on this -particular piece of reindeer horn, but on -several other media to be seen elsewhere, -in the original or in good copies. One -of the best portraits is that discovered -in the old cave at Laugerie Basse by M. -Elie Massénat, where a very early pre-Glacial -man is represented in the act of -hunting an aurochs, at which he is casting -a flint-tipped javelin. In this as in all -other pictures of the same epoch I regret -to say that the ancient hunter is represented -in the costume of Adam before -the fall. Our old master’s studies, in -fact, are all in the nude. Primitive man -was evidently unacquainted as yet with -the use of clothing, though primitive -woman, while still unclad, had already -learnt how to heighten her natural -charms by the simple addition of a -necklace and bracelets. Indeed, though -dresses were still wholly unknown, rouge -was even then extremely fashionable -among French ladies, and lumps of the -ruddle with which primitive woman made -herself beautiful for ever are now to -be discovered in the corner of the cave -where she had her little prehistoric -boudoir. To return to our hunter, however, -who for aught we know to the contrary -may be our old master himself in -person, he is a rather crouching and -semi-erect savage, with an arched back, -recalling somewhat that of the gorilla, a -round head, long neck, pointed beard, -and weak, shambling, ill-developed legs. -I fear we must admit that pre-Glacial -man cut, on the whole, a very sorry and -awkward figure.</p> - -<p>Was he black? That we don’t certainly -know, but all analogy would lead -one to answer positively, Yes. White -men seem, on the whole, to be a very -recent and novel improvement on the -original evolutionary pattern. At any -rate he was distinctly hairy, like the -Ainos, or aborigines of Japan, in our -own day, of whom Miss Isabella Bird -has drawn so startling and sensational a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> -picture. Several of the pre-Glacial -sketches show us lank and gawky savages -with the body covered with long -scratches, answering exactly to the -scratches which represent the hanging -hair of the mammoth, and suggesting -that man then still retained his old original -hairy covering. The few skulls and -other fragments of skeletons now preserved -to us also indicate that our old -master and his contemporaries much -resembled in shape and build the Australian -black fellows, though their foreheads -were lower and more receding, -while their front teeth still projected -in huge fangs, faintly recalling the immense -canines of the male gorilla. Quite -apart from any theoretical considerations -as to our probable descent (or -ascent) from Mr. Darwin’s hypothetical -“hairy arboreal quadrumanous ancestor,” -whose existence may or may not -be really true, there can be no doubt -that the actual historical remains set before -us pre-Glacial man as evidently -approaching in several important respects -the higher monkeys.</p> - -<p>It is interesting to note too that while -the Men of the Time still retained (to -be frankly evolutionary) many traces of -the old monkey-like progenitor, the -horses which our old master has so -cleverly delineated for us on his scrap of -horn similarly retained many traces -of the earlier united horse-and-donkey -ancestor. Professor Huxley has admirably -reconstructed for us the pedigree -of the horse, beginning with a little -creature from the Eocene beds of New -Mexico, with five toes to each hind foot, -and ending with the modern horse, -whose hoof is now practically reduced -to a single and solid-nailed toe. Intermediate -stages show us an Upper -Eocene animal as big as a fox, with -four toes on his front feet and three -behind; a Miocene kind as big as a -sheep, with only three toes on the front -foot, the two outer of which are smaller -than the big middle one; and finally a -Pliocene form, as big as a donkey, with -one stout middle toe, the real hoof, -flanked by two smaller ones, too short -by far to reach the ground. In our own -horse these lateral toes have become reduced -to what are known by veterinaries -as splint bones, combined with the -canon in a single solidly morticed piece.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span> -But in the pre-Glacial horses the splint -bones still generally remained quite -distinct, thus pointing back to the still -earlier period when they existed as two -separate and independent side toes in -the ancestral quadruped. In a few cave -specimens, however, the splints are -found united with the canons in a single -piece, while conversely horses are sometimes, -though very rarely, born at the -present day with three-toed feet, exactly -resembling those of their half-forgotten -ancestor the Pliocene hipparion.</p> - -<p>The reason why we know so much -about the horses of the cave period is, -I am bound to admit, simply and solely -because the man of the period ate them. -Hippophagy has always been popular in -France; it was practised by pre-Glacial -man in the caves of Périgord, and revived -with immense enthusiasm by the -gourmets of the Boulevards after the -siege of Paris and the hunger of the -Commune. The cave men hunted and -killed the wild horse of their own times, -and one of the best of their remaining -works of art represents a naked hunter -attacking two horses, while a huge snake -winds itself unperceived behind close -to his heel. In this rough prehistoric -sketch one seems to catch some faint -antique foreshadowing of the rude -humor of the “Petit Journal pour -Rire.” Some archæologists even believe -that the horse was domesticated by the -cave men as a source of food, and argue -that the familiarity with its form shown -in the drawings could only have been -acquired by people who knew the animal -in its domesticated state; they declare -that the cave man was obviously horsey. -But all the indications seem to me to -show that tame animals were quite unknown -in the age of the cave men. The -mammoth certainly was never domesticated; -yet there is a famous sketch of -the huge beast upon a piece of his own -ivory, discovered in the cave of La Madelaine -by Messrs. Lartet and Christy, -and engraved a hundred times in works -on archæology, which forms one of the -finest existing relics of pre-Glacial art. -In another sketch, less well known, but -not unworthy of admiration, the early -artist has given us with a few rapid but -admirable strokes his own reminiscence -of the effect produced upon him by the -sudden onslaught of the hairy brute,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span> -tusks erect and mouth wide open, a perfect -glimpse of elephantine fury. It -forms a capital example of early impressionism, -respectfully recommended -to the favorable attention of Mr. J. M. -Whistler.</p> - -<p>The reindeer, however, formed the -favorite food and favorite model of the -pre-Glacial artists. Perhaps it was a -better sitter than the mammoth; certainly -it is much more frequently represented -on these early prehistoric bas-reliefs. -The high-water mark of palæolithic -art is undoubtedly to be found in -the reindeer of the cave of Thayngen, -in Switzerland, a capital and spirited -representation of a buck grazing, in -which the perspective of the two horns -is better managed than a Chinese artist -would manage it at the present day. -Another drawing of two reindeer fighting, -scratched on a fragment of schistose -rock and unearthed in one of the -caves of Périgord, though far inferior to -the Swiss specimen in spirit and execution, -is yet not without real merit. The -perspective, however, displays one -marked infantile trait, for the head and -legs of one deer are seen distinctly -through the body of another. Cave -bears, fish, musk sheep, foxes, and -many other extinct or existing animals -are also found among the archaic sculptures. -Probably all these creatures were -used as food; and it is even doubtful -whether the artistic troglodytes were -not also confirmed cannibals. To quote -Mr. Andrew Lang once more on primitive -man, “he lived in a cave by the -seas; he lived upon oysters and foes.” -The oysters are quite undoubted and -the foes may be inferred with considerable -certainty.</p> - -<p>I have spoken of our old master more -than once under this rather question-begging -style and title of primitive man. -In reality, however, the very facts which -I have here been detailing serve themselves -to show how extremely far our -hero was from being truly primitive. -You can’t speak of a distinguished artist, -who draws the portraits of extinct animals -with grace and accuracy, as in any -proper sense primordial. Grant that -our good troglodytes were indeed light-hearted -cannibals; nevertheless they -could design far better than the modern -Esquimaux or Polynesians, and carve<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span> -far better than the civilized being who -is now calmly discoursing about their -personal peculiarities in his own study. -Between the cave men of the pre-Glacial -age and the hypothetical hairy quadrumanous -ancestor aforesaid there must -have intervened innumerable generations -of gradually improving intermediate -forms. The old master, when he -first makes his bow to us, naked and not -ashamed, in his Swiss or French grotto, -flint scalpel in hand and necklet of -bear’s teeth dropping loosely on his -hairy bosom, is nevertheless in all essentials -a completely evolved human being, -with a whole past of slowly acquired -culture lying dimly and mysteriously behind -him. Already he had invented the -bow with its flint-tipped arrow, the neatly -chipped javelin-head, the bone harpoon, -the barbed fish-hook, the axe, the -lance, the dagger, and the needle. Already -he had learnt how to decorate his -implements with artistic skill, and to -carve the handles of his knives with the -figures of animals. I have no doubt -that he even knew how to brew and to -distil; and he was probably acquainted -with the noble art of cookery as applied -to the persons of his human fellow creatures. -Such a personage cannot reasonably -be called primitive; cannibalism, -as somebody has rightly remarked, is -the first step on the road to civilisation.</p> - -<p>No, if we want to get at genuine, unadulterated -primitive man we must go -much further back in time than the -mere trifle of 250,000 years, with which -Dr. Croll and the cosmic astronomers -so generously provide us for pre-Glacial -humanity. We must turn away to the -immeasurably earlier fire-split flints -which the Abbé Bourgeois—undaunted -mortal!—ventured to discover among -the Miocene strata of the <i lang="fr">calcaire de -Beauce</i>. Those flints, if of human origin -at all, were fashioned by some naked -and still more hairy creature who might -fairly claim to be considered as genuinely -primitive. So rude are they that, -though evidently artificial, one distinguished -archæologist will not admit -they can be in any way human; he will -have it that they were really the handiwork -of the great European anthropoid -ape of that early period. This, however, -is nothing more than very delicate -hair-splitting; for what does it matter<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span> -whether you call the animal that fashioned -these exceedingly rough and fire-marked -implements a man-like ape or -an ape-like human being? The fact remains -quite unaltered, whichever name -you choose to give to it. When you -have got to a monkey who can light a -fire and proceed to manufacture himself -a convenient implement, you may be -sure that man, noble man, with all his -glorious and admirable faculties—cannibal -or otherwise—is lurking somewhere -very close just round the corner. The -more we examine the work of our old -master, in fact, the more does the conviction -force itself upon us that he was -very far indeed from being primitive—that -we must push back the early history -of our race not for 250,000 winters -alone, but perhaps for two or three -million years into the dim past of Tertiary -ages.</p> - -<p>But if pre-Glacial man is thus separated -from the origin of the race by a -very long interval indeed, it is none the -less true that he is separated from our -own time by the intervention of a vast -blank space, the space occupied by the -coming on and passing away of the Glacial -Epoch. A great gap cuts him off -from what we may consider as the relatively -modern age of the mound-builders, -whose grassy barrows still cap the -summits of our southern chalk downs. -When the great ice sheet drove away -palæolithic man—the man of the caves -and the unwrought flint axes—from -Northern Europe, he was still nothing -more than a naked savage in the hunting -stage, divinely gifted for art, indeed, -but armed only with roughly chipped -stone implements, and wholly ignorant -of taming animals or of the very rudiments -of agriculture. He knew nothing -of the use of metals—<i lang="la">aurum irrepertum -spernere fortior</i>—and he had not -even learnt how to grind and polish his -rude stone tomahawks to a finished -edge. He couldn’t make himself a -bowl of sun-baked pottery, and if he -had discovered the almost universal art -of manufacturing an intoxicating liquor -from grain or berries (for, as Byron, with -too great anthropological truth, justly -remarks, “man, being reasonable, <em>must</em> -get drunk”) he at least drank his aboriginal -beer or toddy from the capacious -horn of a slaughtered aurochs.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span> -That was the kind of human being who -alone inhabited France and England -during the later pre-Glacial period.</p> - -<p>A hundred and seventy thousand -years elapse (as the play bills put it), -and then the curtain rises afresh upon -neolithic Europe. Man meanwhile, -loitering somewhere behind the scenes -in Asia or Africa (as yet imperfectly explored -from this point of view), had acquired -the important arts of sharpening -his tomahawks and producing hand-made -pottery for his kitchen utensils. -When the great ice sheet cleared away -he followed the returning summer into -Northern Europe, another man, physically, -intellectually, and morally, with -all the slow accumulations of nearly two -thousand centuries (how easily one -writes the words! how hard to realise -them!) upon his maturer shoulders. -Then comes the age of what older antiquaries -used to regard as primitive antiquity—the -age of the English barrows, -of the Danish kitchen middens, of the -Swiss lake dwellings. The men who -lived in it had domesticated the dog, -the cow, the sheep, the goat, and the -invaluable pig; they had begun to sow -small ancestral wheat and undeveloped -barley; they had learnt to weave flax -and wear decent clothing; in a word, -they had passed from the savage hunting -condition to the stage of barbaric -herdsmen and agriculturists. That is -a comparatively modern period, and yet -I suppose we must conclude with Dr. -James Geikie that it isn’t to be measured -by mere calculations of ten or -twenty centuries, but of ten or twenty -thousand years. The perspective of -the past is opening up rapidly before -us; what looked quite close yesterday -is shown to-day to lie away off somewhere -in the dim distance. Like our -palæolithic artists, we fail to get the -reindeer fairly behind the ox in the foreground, -as we ought to do if we saw the -whole scene properly foreshortened.</p> - -<p>On the table where I write there lie -two paper weights, preserving from the -fate of the sibylline leaves the sheets of -foolscap to which this article is now being -committed. One of them is a very -rude flint hatchet, produced by merely -chipping off flakes from its side by dexterous -blows, and utterly unpolished or -unground in any way. It belongs to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span> -the age of the very old master (or possibly -even to a slightly earlier epoch), -and it was sent me from Ightham, in -Kent, by that indefatigable unearther of -prehistoric memorials, Mr. Benjamin -Harrison. That flint, which now serves -me in the office of a paper weight, is far -ruder, simpler, and more ineffective -than any weapon or implement at present -in use among the lowest savages. -Yet with it, I doubt not, some naked -black fellow by the banks of the Thames -has hunted the mammoth among unbroken -forests two hundred thousand years -ago and more; with it he has faced the -angry cave bear and the original and -only genuine British lion (for everybody -knows that the existing mongrel heraldic -beast is nothing better than a bastard -modification of the leopard of the Plantagenets). -Nay, I have very little doubt -in my own mind that with it some -æsthetic ancestor has brained and cut -up for use his next-door neighbor in the -nearest cavern, and then carved upon -his well-picked bones an interesting -sketch of the entire performance. The -Du Mauriers of that remote age, in -fact, habitually drew their society pictures -upon the personal remains of the -mammoth or the man whom they wished -to caricature in deathless bone-cuts. -The other paper weight is a polished -neolithic tomahawk, belonging to the -period of the mound-builders, who succeeded -the Glacial Epoch, and it measures -the distance between the two levels -of civilisation with great accuracy. It -is the military weapon of a trained barbaric -warrior as opposed to the universal -implement and utensil of a rude, solitary, -savage hunter. Yet how curious -it is that even in the midst of this “so-called -nineteenth century,” which perpetually -proclaims itself an age of progress, -men should still prefer to believe -themselves inferior to their original ancestors, -instead of being superior to -them! The idea that man has risen is -considered base, degrading, and positively -wicked; the idea that he has -fallen is considered to be immensely inspiring, -ennobling, and beautiful. For -myself, I have somehow always preferred -the boast of the Homeric Glaucus -that we indeed maintain ourselves to be -much better men that ever were our -fathers.—<cite>Cornhill Magazine.</cite></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span></p> - - - - -<h2><a name="THE_ORGANIZATION_OF_DEMOCRACY" id="THE_ORGANIZATION_OF_DEMOCRACY">THE ORGANIZATION OF DEMOCRACY.</a><br /> - -<small>BY GOLDWIN SMITH.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span></p> - -<p>In the Colonies, at least in Canada, -there are a good many of us who believe, -not in the expansion of England, -but in the multiplication of Englands, -and to whom Imperial Federation, or -any scheme for the political re-absorption -of an adult and distant Colony into -its Mother Country, appears totally impracticable. -Yet we regard the Mother -Country not only as the object of our -filial affection and pride, but as the -centre of our civilization, feel a practical -as well as a sentimental interest in -everything that touches her, and tremble -at her danger as at our own.</p> - -<p>We look on from a distance, it is -true; and though the cable transmits to -us the news, it does not, nor do even -the newspapers and the correspondents, -transmit to us the mind of England. -In this respect our judgment may be at -fault. On the other hand, we are out -of the fray; we stand clear of English -parties; we care for nothing but the -country; we see, while those immediately -engaged do not see, the heady -current of faction, ambition, chimerical -aspiration, political fatalism, and disunionist -conspiracy hurrying the nation -towards a bourne which all the speakers -and writers on the Franchise Bill and -the Redistribution Bill, by the vagueness -of their speculations on the practical -results, proclaim to be unknown.</p> - -<p>The electorate, that is to say, the -government—at least the body by which -the government is appointed and its -policy is determined—is undergoing reconstruction -on the largest scale. Yet -we look in vain, even in the speeches of -the great statesman who is the author -of these measures, for any forecast of -their practical effect, of the influence -which they will have on the character of -government, or of the sort of policy -which they will produce. Able and impressive -as the speeches may be, there -is little in them but philanthropy and -arithmetic, neither of which is politics. -The effect of the Redistribution Bill -especially is evidently a matter of the -merest conjecture. Lord Salisbury -thinks that it will act in one way, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span> -Mr. Chamberlain that it will act in another. -The first considers it favorable -to aristocratic reaction, the second considers -it favorable to authoritative democracy. -The Bill is a leap in the -dark. In any case less important than -that of a reconstruction of the national -institutions, safe experiments would -probably precede sweeping change. A -new mode of paving would be tried first -in one or two streets; a new mode of -cultivation would be tried first in one or -two fields. But if you proposed to try -the Redistribution Bill in one or two -specimen districts, a chorus of scornful -reprobation would arise from all parties, -sects, and ambitions. Nor would any -voices be louder than those of some who -are foremost in hailing the advent of -political science, and preaching the -necessity of a scientific method in all -things. This is not a deliberation on -the amendment of national institutions; -it is a battle of parties. Each party is -seeking not so much to improve the -government as to make it the instrument -of particular theories or passions. But -this surely is what a government, an -executive government at least, ought not -to be. A government ought to be the -impartial guardian for the whole nation -of law, order, property, personal rights, -and the public safety; while opinion is -left to shape itself by discussion, reach -maturity, and at length impress itself -on legislation. This whole movement -is pre-eminently the work of party, and -inspired by its passions. Reform in -1832 was really national; the nation -earnestly desired liberation from a corrupt -oligarchy. But the subsequent -suffrage agitations have been mainly set -on foot by the politicians for the purposes -of their party war.</p> - -<p>Democracy has come. By all reflecting -men its advent seems to be acknowledged, -by most it is welcomed as bringing, -so far as we can see or so far as experience, -though chequered, informs us, -an increase of happiness to the masses -of mankind, and therefore, in the highest -sense, to all. But it requires to be -organized and regulated; otherwise the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span> -end will be anarchy and, as the inevitable -consequence of anarchy, a relapse -into a government of force. Republics, -as we have more than once seen, are -capable of suicide. The people is no -more divine than kings, though its divinity -was proclaimed by the Maratists; -it is capable of governing itself as -wrongly as any king can govern it. The -ignorance, the passions, the self-interest, -not only of particular classes, but of all -of us alike, need to be controlled, as far -as institutions can control them, and -eliminated from the Councils of the -State. The Americans, as was said before, -have tried to organize and regulate -democracy. The framers of the American -Constitution—no veil of illusion being -spread before their eyes by the surviving -forms and names of an old monarchy—saw -the problem which destiny -had set before them. It was not such a -problem as would be presented to them -by the America of the present day, with -its New York and its Chicago, its flood -of foreign immigrants, and its enfranchised -negroes; far less is it such a -problem as Great Britain, with the populace -of its great cities, its host of Radical -and Secularist artisans, its uninstructed -millions of farm laborers, and -its disaffected Irishry presents to the -British statesman. They had to deal -only with the Puritan freeholders of -New England and the planters of the -South. Still they saw the necessity of -providing a solution, and a solution -they produced—one not in all respects -correct, even in its day (for the mode -adopted of electing the President was a -fatal error), yet effective as well as deliberate, -and such as has sufficed, notwithstanding -the great increase of the -strain upon the machinery, to shelter -civilization and avert anarchy. They -instituted an executive government invested -with actual power and existing -independently of parties in Congress, a -real though suspensive veto, a Senate -elected on a Conservative principle, a -written constitution in the keeping of a -Supreme Court, by which all powers -and jurisdictions are strictly defined -and limited, and which can be amended -only with the deliberate consent of the -nation at large. Besides, as was said -before, the Federal system itself, by -localizing questions and breaking the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span> -sweep of agitation, has a highly Conservative -effect. These safeguards, with -the political qualities of the Anglo-Americans -and the Germans, prevent a -catastrophe which without them would -certainly come. But England has nothing -like them. She has nothing but an -“ancient throne,” now stripped of the -last vestige of political power, and an -aristocracy which is evidently doomed, -and, by its struggles to retain its obsolete -privilege, stimulates revolution. -The only Conservative institution which -is really effective is the non-payment of -Members of Parliament; and this Democracy -has already marked for abolition.</p> - -<p>One could wish for a blast of the -Fontarabian horn to awaken British -statesmen, in this decisive hour, to the -fact that England, though she has the -consecrated form, has no longer the -substance of monarchical government. -Her only government is the House of -Commons, or a committee of leaders of -the dominant party, holding their offices -during the pleasure of that House. In -the electorate is the supreme power; -this is now not only the fact but a -recognized fact. Twice the Ministry, -after submitting its policy to the judgment -of the constituencies by a dissolution -of Parliament, has resigned in deference -to the verdict. Yet these same -statesmen go on dealing with the electorate -as though they were not dealing -with the government or with the sovereign -power, but only with a representation -of the people convened for the purpose -of assenting to taxation. They -seem to fancy that flood the electorate -as they will with ignorance, passion, -and all the elements of violence and anarchy, -the government will still be carried -on calmly and wisely by the occupant -and the Ministers of the “ancient -throne.” Is it possible that the mere -phrase “servants of the Crown” can -cast such a spell over practical minds?</p> - -<p>Down to this time the political history -of England has been a long revolution, -of which the Whig or Liberal party in -its successive phases has been the organ, -and by which, after many oscillations -and vicissitudes, supreme power has -been drawn from the Crown and the -aristocracy to the Commons. The destructive -part of the process is now all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span> -but complete, only a small remnant of -precarious power being retained by the -House of Lords. The constructive part -remains to be performed. The task of -British statesmen at the present day is, -in effect, to found a Democratic Government. -The ground has been cleared -for the new edifice, but the edifice has -yet to be built. Its foundations have -hardly yet been laid.</p> - -<p>Without giving way to reactionary -panic, it may surely be said that the -times are critical. They are not evil; -they are full, on the contrary, of the -unripe promise of good; but they are -critical. Statesmen cannot afford to act -blindfold. Democracy comes, as it was -likely that it would come, not by itself, -but as part of a general revolution, political, -social, and religious. Nihilism -marks, by its all-embracing lust of destruction, -the connection between the -different revolutionary forces, while it -exhibits them in their delirious excess. -The English reform movement in the -early part of the century was almost exclusively -political; other agitations were -called into being by the general disturbance, -but they were secondary and subsided; -the main object sought was the -removal of abuses in government; the -leaders were strict economists, and, far -from seeking a social revolution, would -have recoiled from the idea. But a -momentous change has taken place since -that time. The fermentation is now -not only political but general. Political -power is sought by the masses and their -leaders, not merely for the sake of purifying -the administration and reducing -its cost, but in the hope that it may be -used to effect a great social change. -Secularism has become an important -factor in the situation. Rate religious -influence, and that of faith in a future -state as low as you will, it can hardly -be denied that the patience of the masses -under the inequalities of the social system -has hitherto been largely sustained -by the belief that the system was a providential -ordinance, and that those who -did their duty in it, even if they suffered -here, would be in some way made happy -in the sum of things.</p> - -<p>Nor has the doctrine of spiritual -equality been without its effect in consoling -the lowly for their inferiority of -rank. Hereafter scientific conviction,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span> -derived from the study of the social organism, -may supply the place of religious -impressions as a motive for acquiescence -in things as they are. At present -it is the destructive process of science -that has almost exclusively taken -place in the mind of the Radical proletarian. -Believing now that this world is -all, he naturally desires to grasp his full -share of its good things without delay. -His sensibility having been quickened -with his intelligence, he feels inferiority -as well as privation, and is impelled by -social envy as well as by desire. His -education has advanced just far enough -to enable him to imbibe theories which -coincide with his wishes. If he cannot -understand the fine reasonings of Mr. -George, he can understand the confiscation, -and he thinks that so much fine -reasoning must make the confiscation -moral. Communism and semi-communism -are rife; there is a tendency to -them even at the Universities, and in -other high places. Perhaps the loss of -faith in the Church leads some to see an -indemnity for it in a communistic polity. -If there is not in England, as there is in -Germany, a strong Socialistic party, -there appears to be a growing disposition -to make a Socialistic use of the -suffrage. There is certainly in many -quarters an exaggerated idea of the -powers and duties of the fictitious being -styled the State. One conspicuous candidate -for the succession to the leadership, -at all events, is evidently holding -out hopes of a Socialistic system of high -taxation for the benefit of those who -produce least, and he appears inclined -to head a crusade against the property -of all landowners, and of all owners of -houses in towns. Nor is he without -rivals in this quest of popularity on the -Tory side. The ball of agrarianism -which has been set rolling by recent -legislation in Ireland, rolls on, and its -course is not likely to stop in Skye. -All this may be working for good. The -writer of this paper, at all events, has -no inclination to take the despondent -view. But surely there is enough to -warn statesmen that they must exercise -forecast, that they must try, while they -can, to secure to the nation a stable and -rational government; that they must -not hastily divorce power from intelligence -and responsibility; that they must<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span> -not plunge the country headlong into -unorganized and unregulated democracy. -If this Parliament comes to an -end without having created any conservative -safeguards, while it has instituted -a suffrage destined evidently soon to be -universal, the reins will have been -thrown on the necks of the horses, and -the last leverage of Conservatism will -be gone. M. Taine has just shown us -whither horses with the reins upon their -necks may run, and what wreck they -may make of their own hopes. It is -true that great resignation, and even -apathy, has been sometimes shown by -the masses in times of suffering from -dearth. No doubt the masses move -slowly; but you incite them to move -when you thrust into their hand the -vote and send among them people to -teach them that by a violent use of it -they can raise themselves to the level of -the rich. Able and powerful men of -the ruling class itself are now, either -from philanthropy or from party motives, -doing their utmost to pave the -way for a Socialistic revolution.</p> - -<p>Of all the calamities that ever befell -the human race, the greatest was the -French Revolution. Wide, happily, is -the difference between the France of a -century ago and the England of the -present day. In the case of England -there is no Versailles, no deficit, no gulf -between the aristocracy and the middle -classes; while there is diffused intelligence -instead of a night of political -ignorance in which all sorts of spectres -stalked, general habits of self-government -in place of a paralyzing centralization, -and a political character, as we -may flatter ourselves, stronger and sounder -than was that of the French. Still -there are some points of similarity, -especially the dangerous conjunction of -social or agrarian with political revolution. -In England, as in the France of -the eighteenth century, scepticism has -gained the minds of the ruling class; -with their convictions their nerve is -shaken, and it is difficult to see who -would stop the avalanche if once it -should begin to slide. Nor is there -wanting a sybaritic Jacobinism which -ominously reminds us of the Palais -Royal. Pleasure-hunting and frivolity, -athletic and of other kinds, appear to -have reached a great height, and to pub<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span>lic -questions a sort of careless fatalism -seems to prevail. No doubt there is -still plenty of force and of seriousness -in the country; but something like a -convulsion may be needed to bring -them to the front. The masses in -France, though galled by the burdens of -feudal lordship were not, properly speaking, -Socialistic. Socialism proper can -hardly be said to have shown its head -before the conspiracy of Babœuf; and -the nation was still at the core monarchical -and Catholic, as was proved by -the ease with which both monarchy and -Church were restored by Napoleon. -Should the manufacturing and maritime -supremacy of England be still more -severely challenged and continue to decline, -an amount of suffering might be -produced among her people hardly less -than was, in reality, that of the people -in France. If Socialistic legislation -commences in earnest, and, as the inevitable -consequence, property begins -to shrink from circulation and investment, -stoppage of industry and dearth -of bread cannot fail to ensue, and we -know what the effects of these would be -in the middle of a Socialistic revolution. -Much ought to be risked, if there were -real hope of equalizing, by any political -action, the human lot. But who seriously -believes this to be possible? Who -does not know that the things which we -deplore and are slowly mending will -only be made worse by convulsions?</p> - -<p>Surely, if this work were in the hands -of patriotic and comprehensive statesmanship, -not in those of party, there -would be, instead of a mere extension of -the Franchise, a revision of the Constitution. -Before, by the admission of a -large popular element, the strain upon -the conservative and regulative parts of -the machine was increased, those parts -would be looked over and put in order; -this question of the Second Chamber -would be settled, and if the result was a -determination to reform the House of -Lords, that determination would be carried -into effect, and the institution -would be placed in a condition to do its -work, before the next general election.</p> - -<p>In a reform of the House of Lords it -is difficult to feel any confidence. The -hereditary principle seems to be thoroughly -dead. In the Middle Ages it -had a root in the faith and in the igno<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span>rance -of mankind; it had its temporary -uses, and at the same time it had its -correctives. A mediæval lord was -obliged to exert himself that his lordship -might not be taken by another. A -mediæval king was obliged to exert himself -if he wished to keep his crown upon -his head. Now, except in the rare -cases of men moulded of Nature’s finest -clay, with whom nobility acts really as -an obligation, hereditary rank and wealth -kill duty in the cradle. It is found impossible -to get a decent attendance in -the House of Lords. In answer to Lord -Rosebery’s appeal, a Peer says that he -will be happy to attend if the nation will -re-enact the Corn Laws, so as to enable -him to keep a house in town. To indulge -a mere whim, the hereditary wearers -of the crown refuse to visit Ireland, -and thus fling away the affections of the -Irish people. The historical cause has -been tried during this controversy and -the issue is not doubtful. We have -seen how the House of Lords, since it -assumed its present character, which it -did under the second Tudor, has worked. -That it has acted as a court of mature -wisdom, revising on grounds of impartial -statesmanship the rash decisions of -the popular House, is as complete a -fable as its Norman pedigree. It has -simply opposed the selfish resistance of -a privileged order to change of every -kind. Could it have its way, not only -Rotten Boroughs and Sinecurism, but -the old Criminal Code, Religious Intolerance, -Arbitrary Imprisonment, the -Censorship of the Press, the Paper Duty, -even Slavery and the Slave Trade, would -still be cumbering the earth; or, rather, -long ago, the nation would have been -compelled to choose between political -death and revolution. To fear, on -questions which caused national excitement, -the House of Lords has at last -given way; but not to reason and justice. -A multitude of minor reforms it -has strangled, by its obstructiveness, -altogether. The only great measure of -change which this organ of mature wisdom -ever readily passed was the Franchise -Bill of 1867, which was described -by its own author as a leap in the dark, -and had been devised with the view of -swamping progressive intelligence in a -flood of ignorance and beer. Nor has -obstruction been the only sin of that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span> -order of which the House of Lords is -the organ; it has given to the general -policy of England a class bias; it stimulated -the crusade against the French -Revolution, and unlike the crusading -Barons of the Middle Ages, it stayed at -home revelling in high rents and in a -mass of sinecures, of which it sacrificed -not one penny, while the people bled -and starved in a cause which was not -theirs. It has fostered militarism generally -as a diversion from domestic reform. -On economic questions the legislation -of the Lords has been mere landlordism. -As mere landlords they have -acted, from the day on which they sold -the national religion to the Pope for a -quiet title to the Church lands, to the -day on which they passed the Arrears -Bill, after showing their sense of its -character, in order that they might recover -some of their back rents. If -twice in the course of their long history -they have been for a moment on the -side of freedom, fear for their Church -lands, combined with jealousy of ecclesiastical -favorites, was the cause. The -period of their most complete ascendency, -in the last century, was the epoch -of political corruption; and the conduct -of the House at the time of the -railway mania, when it formed a Ring -in the landlord interest, was, to say the -least, not a proof that hereditary wealth -lifts its possessor above commercial motives. -Many histories are darker than -that of the House of Lords; few are less -heroic; and the facts are now deeply -imprinted on the minds of the people. -Faith in the “noble blood” of the -scapegrace son of a law lord, once dissipated, -is not likely to return. The -hereditary wealth itself, which is the -real basis of aristocratic influence, and -without which the Peerage would be a -thing of shreds and patches, is reduced -by agricultural depression, and will be -greatly broken up by the abolition of -primogeniture and entail,—a change -which is sure to come, for it will be -found that the only antidote to agrarian -communism is the free acquisition of -land. The hereditary principle is dead, -and can serve England or civilized humanity -no more. Introduced into, or -retained in, any Senate, it will carry -with it the seeds of death. As soon as -it obeys, as obey it certainly will, its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span> -obstructive instinct, the cry against it -will be renewed. It will not become -less odious by becoming weaker. If the -life element which it is proposed to introduce -remains antagonistic to the hereditary -element, the tribunal of mature -wisdom will be divided against itself -and fresh conflicts will ensue. If it is -assimilated, you will have the House of -Lords over again, and more odious than -ever, since the life element will be regarded -as having apostatized and betrayed -its trust.</p> - -<p>Yet the whole theory of a Second -Chamber as a necessary part of Parliamentary -institutions appears to have no -other origin nor any sounder basis than -a mistaken view of the nature of the -House of Lords, which all the world has -supposed to be a Senate, when in fact it -was an estate of the feudal realm, representing -not a higher grade of deliberative -wisdom but simply the special interest -of the great landowners. The only -valid argument in favor of the retention -of the House of Lords is, in fact, the -difficulty which the Bicamerists find in -devising anything to be put in its place. -Nomination is a total failure; the nominated -Senate of Canada is a legislative -cypher, the debates of which are not -even reported, and the places in it are a -mere addition to the bribery fund of the -party leader. If both Chambers are -elective, as in Victoria, the result is a -collision and a deadlock, out of which, -in the case of sovereign assemblies, -there would be no colonial officer or -governor to point a way. Co-option in -any form, or election by an order, would -give us the oligarchy over again, perhaps -in a worse shape than ever, since -the members would have to cultivate the -good graces of a privileged and reactionary -electorate. Not only as to the mode -in which their Senate is to be elected -are the Bicamerists at fault; they are -equally at fault as to the special materials -of which it is to be composed. If -age or wealth is to be the qualification, -impotence or odium will be the result. -If the wisest are to have their seats in -the Senate, the popular House will be -deprived of its best leaders. Supreme -power must centre somewhere; it will -centre in that body which most directly -represents the national will. Let the -assembly, then, which is the seat of su<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span>preme -power, be the seat of collective -wisdom. Concentrate in it, as far as -possible, all the best available elements, -those of a conservative character as well -as the rest. Frankly recognize its authority, -and invest it at the same time -with a full measure of responsibility. -Notoriously the existence of a Senate -diminishes the sense of responsibility in -the popular chamber, and diminishes it -out of proportion to the control really -exercised; for a Senate soon gets tired -of incurring the unpopularity of rejection. -This surely is a more rational and -hopeful plan than that of abandoning -the seat of supreme power to popular -impulse, and affixing by way of safeguard -an artificial regulator to its side. -Checks and balances belong to mechanics, -not to politics; in mechanics you -can apportion force, in politics force -cannot be apportioned, though nominal -authority may. That there are good -and useful elements in the House of -Lords, especially among the new creations, -nobody doubts. Let them be -transferred, with any social influence -which in these democratic times may -adhere to them, to a sphere where they -can act with effect. At present they are -ostracized by seclusion, as is clearly perceived -by some Radicals, who on that -ground deprecate a reform of the House -of Lords. Let Lord Salisbury go to the -Commons and Lord Hartington stay -there. The Lords are warned by their -partisans against imitating the foolish -abdication of the French aristocracy in -the famous holocaust of feudal titles. -To that it may come, if they do not take -care. But this is an earlier stage of the -revolution, and the day of grace has not -yet expired. Let the Lords do that -which the French aristocracy ought to -have done, and by doing which they -might have averted the catastrophe. -Let them at once go over frankly to the -<i lang="fr">Tiers Etat</i>, and strengthen by their accession -the conservative forces in the -national assembly. Convulsive efforts -to retain an obnoxious privilege only inflame -the revolutionary spirit, and at -the same time make it still more desperately -difficult for rational statesmanship -to deal with the situation. Tory democracy -is apparently a plea for founding -aristocracy on demagogism, and for -stemming Socialism by heading it and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> -combining it with a foreign policy of -violence. Can the House of Lords be -so blind as not to see in what such a -course must end? What has been the -end of other attempts of privilege to -save itself by an alliance with extreme -Radicalism against moderate reform?</p> - -<p>Not in a Second Chamber, patched -up or newly created, but in a well-regulated -franchise and a rational mode of -election, are effectual securities for the -permanent ascendancy of national reason -over passion in the legislature to be -found. The electorate has been dealt -with by successive reformers in the belief -that its functions, and therefore the -necessary qualifications for it, have remained -unchanged. But its functions -have been greatly changed, and have -become infinitely more important and -difficult than they originally were. Instead -of merely choosing delegates to -give his assent to taxation, the elector is -now called upon to choose a ruler, and, -at the same time, virtually to decide -upon the general policy of the country. -This is beyond the capacity of any ordinary -voter. Everybody knows what -happens, and until an immense progress -shall have been made in popular education, -must happen—how the intelligent -elector, even supposing him to escape -bribery and all other corrupt influences, -votes at best for the Blue or Yellow -ticket, and too often votes not even for -the Blue or Yellow ticket, but with reference -to some merely local or personal -question, some fancy or antipathy, leaving -the broad interests of the country -and the qualifications essential to a -legislator altogether out of sight. The -author of “Round My House” tells us -how opinion among the French peasantry -in certain districts was swept by -an angry fancy about a reduction in the -value of a coin. What chance would -Chatham or Peel, representing a great -national policy, have stood against the -lowest demagogue if he had been on the -unpopular side of the question about -the Cider Tax or Wood’s halfpence? -An ordinary citizen, occupied in trade or -manual labor, has not the leisure, if he -had the knowledge and capacity, to -study the complex questions put before -him. Yet there are reformers who desire -to set Hodge to choose not only out -of the worthies of his own neighbor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span>hood, -but out of all the notabilities of -the country, among whom the largest -vote would probably be polled by the -Tichborne Claimant. From selfishness -the poor are at least as free as the rich; -they would vote at least as well if they -knew how; but the knowledge is to -them unattainable. In no sphere but -that of politics does anybody propose -to thrust upon people power of which it -is manifestly impossible that they should -make an intelligent use. Not only is it -manifestly impossible that the people -should make an intelligent use of the -power of direct election to the governing -assembly and of determining its -policy: it is morally impossible that -they should really make use of it at all. -They are unorganized, and, though they -live in the same district, unconnected as -a rule with each other: they have no -means of taking counsel together for the -selection of a member. The selection -must therefore be made for them by -some self-constituted agency. That -agency is the Caucus, into the hands of -whose managers and masters the representation, -styled popular, really falls.</p> - -<p>Both the party organizations in England -are now adopting the system, and -thus confiscating the suffrage which they -profess by legislation to bestow. One -of them at least already has the Boss, -and both of them will soon have the -complete machine, with a host of professional -politicians, recruited from the -class which prefers place-hunting to -honest trades. Government, in a word, -will fall into the hands of irresponsible -intriguers, and will be dominated in -ever-increasing measure by Knavery and -corruption. Nor is there any assignable -remedy for the evil; the wire-pullers -and professional politicians alone can -give their time to the elections, and -therefore it is hardly possible to organize -the means of casting off their yoke. -Attending “primaries” is often preached -as the duty of the patriotic citizen; but -the patriotic citizen who does attend the -primary finds everything arranged by -the wire-pullers beforehand and himself -impotent and a laughing-stock. This -will not appear in the first flush of a -revolutionary movement, while the present -leaders retain their ascendancy, but -it will appear as soon as the revolution -settles down. Public education, it is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span> -true, has been introduced in England; -but it has always existed in the United -States, and it has not saved that country -from the Boss. To save the country -from the Boss is now the highest aim of -the best citizens; but they will hardly -succeed without a constitutional change.</p> - -<p>American reformers, if they want to -go to the root of the evil, have a light -to guide their efforts in the successful -working of their Senate, which, being -elected indirectly, through the State -Legislatures, is a body of remarkable -ability, and possesses the general confidence -of the nation; while the House -of Representatives, elected directly by -the people, that is, by the wire-puller, -who usurps the functions of the people, -presents a most unfavorable contrast. -Those who have sat in both say the -difference between the two political atmospheres -is immense. Rid the Senate -of Party, and it would be about as good -a governing body as any nation could -reasonably desire. Indirect elections -through local councils is the plan which -seems to promise the best central legislature; -and it takes from the primary -elector nothing which at present is -really his. Ordinary knowledge and -intelligence ought to suffice to enable a -man to choose from among his neighbors -those who are fittest to manage his -local affairs. But the local councillors -would be a comparatively picked body; -they might reasonably be expected to -give their minds to the central election; -they would not be too many for concert; -and they would exercise their power as -a trust under the eyes of the people. -As permanent bodies they could not, -like the College of Presidential Electors, -be reduced to the mere bearers of a -mandate. A high trust, by adding to -the importance and dignity of local -councils, would be likely to draw into -them better men. Through such an organization, -apparently, opinion might -freely and quietly flow from the people -to the depository of power. Local and -social influences would no doubt be -strong; but they are more wholesome -than that of the Boss, and, as was said -before, it is easier to enlarge the parochial -than to make the wire-puller honest. -Parochialism, however, has been -pretty well broken up by the press and -the telegraph. Hardly anybody can<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> -now live in intellectual isolation. The -Caucus itself, so far as it works fairly, -is a tribute to the principle of indirect -election.</p> - -<p>To begin by passing a measure of -Home Rule, not for Ireland alone, but -for the United Kingdom, to reconstruct -the local institutions, unloading upon -them part of the now crushing burden -of the central legislature, and then to -base the central institutions upon them, -is a policy which might at least claim -attention, and, perhaps, deserve partial -experiment, as an alternative to central -revolution, if the nation and its leaders -had not surrendered themselves to the -revolutionary current.</p> - -<p>Like the mode of election, the qualification -for the franchise has never undergone -any rational consideration with -reference to the changed status and duties -of the elector, who, instead of being -really a subject, is now a participant in -sovereign power. Nothing has been -thought of the property qualification, -which by successive agitations has been -reduced to the vanishing point, and the -next time anybody wants to raise the -political wind will finally disappear. -The broader the basis of electoral institutions -can safely be made the better, -and with indirect instead of direct election -to the central legislature, it would -be safe to make it very broad. Still -some qualifications are necessary, even -for the primary elector; nor, if the -writer may trust his own observation, is -there any indisposition on the part of -the intelligent working-classes to look -at the matter in that light. A common -education is now placed within everybody’s -reach by the help of the State, -and it entails corresponding obligations. -A mode of ascertaining that the elector -could read and write, or at least read, -by means of a certificate or test, might -surely be devised. Personal application -for registration would also be a fair requirement, -since a man would hardly be -fit to share the sovereign power who did -not care enough about his vote to ask -for it; and it would probably act as a -useful criterion, self-applied. With the -full powers of a citizen should also go, -in reason, the full duties—liability to -serve on juries, to assist in the enforcement -of the law, to take part, if called -upon, in the defence of the country.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span> -There is a vague notion that all human -beings, or all who pay taxes (which, -directly or indirectly, everybody does), -have a natural right to a vote, and this -is carried so far that votes are about to -be given to a multitude of Irish who -openly profess themselves the enemies -of the State, and announce that they -will use the votes for its destruction. -Perhaps this Irish experiment may help -to bring us all to reason, and convince -us that nobody has a right to the means -of doing mischief to himself and his fellows, -or to anything but that form of -government which is practically the best -for all.</p> - -<p>Considering how our morality and -happiness depend on the maintenance -of right relations between the sexes, it is -surely a proof of the desperate recklessness -of party that the Conservative leaders -should be willing to fling female -character and ultimately the home into -the political caldron for the sake of -gaining the female vote. Their calculation -may prove unfounded; at least on -this continent the women of Conservative -temperament seem to stay at home, -while the revolutionary Megæra mounts -the platform and, brandishing her torch -among the Anarchists of Chicago, bids -the poor trust in dynamite instead of -trusting in God. That gentleness and -purity will come with woman into public -life is certainly not the decisive verdict -of experience, so far as experience has -gone. It rather seems that her gentleness -and purity depended on her absence -from the political arena. Will the -government be improved by being made -feminine? That is the question to be -answered in the common interest of -both sexes. The male nature, though -not higher, is the more practical. Men, -as a rule, alone are brought into daily -contact with the world of action by the -varied experiences and exigencies of -which the balance of political character -is formed. Men alone can be said to -be fully responsible. Unless sentiment -should undergo a total change, a female -Member of Parliament or office-holder -could not be called to account like a -man. In this rough world how will a -nation prosper which is swayed by the -emotions of its women? The sexes may -be co-equal, and yet, having different -natures, they may have different parts<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> -to play in the community as they certainly -have in the family. Laws have -been made by man, because law, to take -effect, must have force behind it, and -the force of the community is male. If -women made such laws as some of them -threaten to make in the interest of their -sex, men would refuse to execute the -law. If women voted a war for some -object of female enthusiasm, as the -French women would for the defence of -the Pope, men would refuse to march. -The authority of government would -then fall. A woman cannot support the -police or take part in the defence of the -country. Women are not a class with -separate interests of its own, but a sex, -the political interests of which are identical -with those of their husbands and -brothers. Their property is not of a -special kind, nor can it be alleged to -have suffered any wrong by general legislation. -Assuredly general legislation -has of late not been unfavorable to -woman. Perhaps they get more from -the chivalry of male legislation than -they would get if, armed with political -power, they were fighting for themselves. -To the argument that property -held by them is unrepresented, the answer -is that no property is represented -in any hands beyond the minimum required -for a qualification in each case. -This is a small hardship compared with -the practical exclusion from voting of -all our sailors, the flower of our industry, -and of a large number of those employed -by commerce in the work of distribution. -Woman, if she has her disabilities, -has also her privileges, which, -with the general guardianship of affection, -the majority of the sex would probably -be unwilling to renounce for the -sake of gratifying the ambition of a few. -Conservatives especially may be expected -to consider the effects likely to be -produced on female character and on -domestic life by the introduction of -women into politics and the general revolution -in the relations between the sexes -of which that measure is an integral -part. Female aspirations begin to take -a new turn. An American apostle of -woman’s rights told us plainly the other -day that she considered maternity a -poor aim for a woman’s ambition. Nature -answers by dooming the race to decay.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span></p> - -<p>A stable, though responsible, executive, -invested with a reasonable amount -of authority, commanding the general -confidence of the people, and capable of -exercising forecast and governing on a -plan, especially with regard to foreign -affairs, is a necessity of civilized life. -How is it to be secured for the future -to England? Have reforming statesmen -asked themselves that momentous -question, or has the necessity of answering -it been hidden from their eyes by -the illusion which surrounds the “ancient -throne?” What basis has Government -at present but party? Is not -that crisis crumbling to pieces? Is not -the Liberal party in the House of Commons -split up into discordant sections -and held together solely by the authority -of a leader in his seventy-fifth year -and without any visible heir of his -power? Have not the Irish entirely -severed themselves from it and taken -up a position which renders a reunion -with them hopeless? Is not even the -Tory party, though as a party of reaction -less exposed to disintegration than -a party of progress, went by divergent -tendencies towards Conservatism on one -side and Tory democracy on the other? -Is not everybody at a loss to conceive -how, after next election, and when the -number of Parnellites shall have been -increased, a party broad and strong -enough to support a government is to be -formed? The disintegration is not confined -to England; it extends to all -countries in which Parliamentary institutions -prevail. It is extending now to -the United States, where the reforming -Republicans voted in the Presidential -election; and the other day the Liberal -party in Belgium suddenly split in two. -The consequences everywhere are the -fatal instability and weakness of government, -the only exception being Germany, -where Bismarck holds himself -above party, governs on a principle -really monarchical, and makes up a majority -from any quarter that he can? -France, with her Chamber full of Sectionalism, -cabal and unruly ambition, -lives always on the brink of administrative -anarchy: industry and commerce -never knowing whether next day they -will have the shelter of a government -over their heads. The Executive in the -United States stands on an independent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span> -though elective footing; if it depended -for its existence from day to day on the -factions of Congress, chaos would soon -come. Is there any prospect of a return -to party union and solidity? As intellects -grow more active, idiosyncracies -more pronounced, ambitions more numerous -and keen, is it likely that divergences -will become fewer and that patient -submission to party discipline will -increase? Is not the tendency everywhere -the opposite way? What permanent -claim has party on the allegiance -of a moral being? What is it but a soft -name for faction, the bane of States? -Why should a good citizen surrender his -conscience to it? Why should good -citizens for ever divide themselves into -two hostile camps, and wage political -war against each other? Is an unpatriotic -and anti-social principle to be accepted -as the last word of politics? -The supply of organic questions cannot -be inexhaustible. When it is exhausted -and divisions of principle have disappeared, -on what ground of reason or -moral motive are parties to rest? Must -they not thenceforth become factions -pure and simple? Have they not become -factions pure and simple, whenever -organic questions have ceased to -be at issue? Party has been the organ -by which in England the Long Revolution -has been conducted to its issue, -and power has been gradually wrested -from the Crown and transferred to the -Commons. Hence the belief, shared -by the whole of Europe, that party was -inseparable from Parliamentary institutions, -and that in no other way could -free government be carried on. If free -government can be carried on in no -other way, the prospect is dark, for -party is apparently doomed, alike by -morality and by the growing tendencies -of the age. But there is obviously one -other way at least in which free government -can be carried on. Instead of -making office the prize of a perpetual -faction fight, the members of the Executive -Council of State may be regularly -elected by the Members of the Legislature -for a term certain, under such a -system with regard to the rotation of -vacancies as may at once secure sufficient -harmony between the two bodies -and a sufficient continuity in the executive -government. The responsibility of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span> -the Executive for the decisions of the -Legislature, and its obligation to resign -upon every Legislative defeat, which is -a mere accident of English history and -devoid of rational foundation, would -then cease. The Legislature and the -Executive would be at liberty each to -do its own work. The Executive would -be national, and would receive the general -support of the community instead -of being an object of organized hostility -to half of it; it would be stable instead -of being as it is now throughout Europe -ephemeral as well as weak. Responsibility -on the part of its members instead -of being diminished would be increased. -It would become individual, whereas -now it is only collective, the whole Cabinet -and the party majority being bound -to support each Minister whatever may -be his failure in duty. Personal aptitude -might be considered in the elections -to the offices, whereas at present -little can be considered beyond the -necessity of providing for all the leaders, -and a good financier or Minister of Marine -would not be turned out because he -was in the minority on a Franchise Bill.</p> - -<p>The nations have been so much engaged -in taking authority out of bad -hands, that they have forgotten that it -is a good and necessary thing in itself. -Government has become dangerously -weak. The greater part of its energy is -now expended, not in the work of administration, -but in preserving its own -existence. Not only is it exposed to -the incessant attacks of an Opposition -whose business is to traduce and harass -it, but it is now hardly able to sustain -itself against the irresponsible power of -the press, wielded nobody knows by -whom, but often under secret influences, -which are a great and growing danger in -all communities. To keep the popular -favor, which is to them the breath of -life, the members of the Cabinet have -to be always on the stump, reserving to -themselves little time for rest or reflection, -and the stump orator is rapidly superseding -the statesman. This vacillation -of policy on the Egyptian question, -the consequences of which all have been -deploring, has not been so much that of -the Government as that of the nation itself -worrying and distracting the Government -through the press. A country -with an Empire and a world-wide diplo<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span>macy -cannot afford to have an Executive, -the policy of which is always shifting -with the wind of opinion, and which -can exercise no forecast, because it is -not sure of its existence for an hour. -In India, the danger is not so much -from native disaffection as from British -agitation, which the Company managed -to exclude, but which, since India has -been driven into the vortex of British -politics, a party Government has no -power to control. Those who are as far -as is the writer of this paper from being -Imperialists, must see, nevertheless, that -while the Empire exists it creates a special -necessity for a strong and undemagogic -Government, and that on any hypothesis, -a disruption, or general dissolution -from a collapse of the central authority, -is not the thing to be desired. -The Radicals themselves are saying that -what the country now wants is a strong -government, by which, however, people -often mean a government strongly imbued -with their own ideas.</p> - -<p>England ought not to be very much -in love with the party system at this -moment, for it has well-nigh laid her, -with all her greatness and her glory, at -the feet of Messrs. Healy and Biggar. -Faction and nothing but faction has -brought her to the verge of a dismemberment, -which, by carving a hostile Republic -out of her side, would reduce her -to a second-rate Power, and condemn -her to play a subordinate instead of a -leading part in the march of European -civilization. “England has lost heart” -is the exalting cry of Mr. Parnell. She -has lost heart because she is betrayed -by faction, seeking under highly philanthropic -and philosophic pretences to -climb into power by bartering the unity -of the nation for the Irish vote. With -a truly national government she would -soon be herself again.</p> - -<p>There is another point which, while -time for consideration remains to them, -British statesmen will surely do well to -consider. It would seem paradoxical -to say that England, the parent of constitutional -government, has no constitution; -but it will be admitted at once -that she has no legal constitution, at -least that her legal constitution is not -actual. Actually she has nothing but a -balance of power, or rather the power -no longer balanced of the House of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> -Commons, which if the Crown attempted -to govern would stop the supplies, -and if the Lords attempted to vote -would force the Crown to coerce them -by a swamping creation, or incite the -people to terrify them into submission. -The term “Constitutional,” though it -seems full of mysterious and august -meaning, has never really denoted anything -but the limit of practical force. -If it has been unconstitutional for the -Lords to amend a money Bill, but constitutional -for them to reject a Bill respecting -a tax, as in the noted case of -the paper duty, the reason was that the -rejection was final, whereas the amended -Bill would go back to the Commons, -who would throw it out. But while the -Commons have annihilated the power -of the Crown, and reduced that of the -Lords almost to a cipher, they remain -themselves liable to dissolution at the -will of the party leader into whose hands -that prerogative has come, and who can -thus suspend at any moment the existence -of the supreme government, reduce -its members to private citizens, -and, if they resist, deal with them as -common rioters through the police. In -the ordinary course of things the existence -of the supreme government is suspended, -and an interregnum ensues, -whenever the regular Parliamentary -term expires. This is hardly the sort -of ship with which it is wise to put out -on the wide waters of democracy. England, -like other nations under the elective -system, needs a written constitution, -defining all powers and duties, guarding -against any usurpation, and entrusted -to the keeping of a court of law. Traditions -and understandings, which may -be maintained and serve their purpose -so long as the government is in the -hands of a family group of statesmen -walking in the ancestral paths, will not -command the same respect in a far -different order of things. The written -constitution is the political Bible of the -United States, and without it all would -soon be usurpation and confusion. A -written constitution in no way interferes -with the freedom of development which -is the supposed privilege of the unwritten. -It only provides that development -shall proceed in the way of regular and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> -legal amendment, and not in that of violent -collision and intimidation by street -parades. The system of constitutional -amendment works perfectly well in the -United States. The power might be -safely reposed in the people at large. -Men who are not competent to vote on -the complex question of the general -policy of the country, and at the same -time on the merits of the candidate, are -competent to vote on a single question -submitted by itself, and with regard to -which, moreover, there is little danger -of corruption or illicit influence. But -the nation at large ought, by petition -sufficiently signed or in some other way, -to have the power of initiating constitutional -amendments or compelling their -submission by the Government as well -as of rejecting them when submitted. -Elective rulers, once installed in power, -are no more willing to part with it than -kings. Such a body as the American -House of Representatives, though it -might become a sheer political nuisance, -would never take the first step in reform. -There ought to be a power of enforcing -change, when the necessity for it has -become apparent to the nation, without -having recourse to a violent revolution, -or even to intimidation such as is being -used in default of a better means to -wrest the veto from the House of Lords.</p> - -<p>These are the views of one who has -long been convinced that the day of -hereditary institutions had closed, that -the day of elective institutions had fully -come, that the appointed task of political -science was to study the liabilities, -weaknesses and dangers of the elective -system with a view to their correction or -prevention, and that the mission of the -Liberal party in England was to conduct -the critical transition and guide Europe -in accomplishing it without revolution. -If such views are condemned as Conservative -by Radicals, and as Republican -by Conservatives, neither charge -can well be repelled. They certainly -cannot be congenial to any who exult in -the prospect of a socialistic revolution. -But the upshot of all that has been here -said is that Democracy must be organized -and regulated. Unorganized and -unregulated, it will probably end in confusion.—<cite>Contemporary -Magazine.</cite></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span></p> - - - - -<h2><a name="SIR_WILLIAM_SIEMENS8" id="SIR_WILLIAM_SIEMENS8">SIR WILLIAM SIEMENS.</a><a id="FNanchor_8_8" href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">8</a><br /> - -<small>BY WILLIAM LANT CARPENTER.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span></p> - -<p>I am about to endeavor to set forth -the life and work of Sir William Siemens, -who was not only an ardent scientific -discoverer, but one whose work -for the last five or six years has interested -the general public to a degree that -has perhaps never before been the case -with any man so devoted to science as -he was. Of him it may be said, without -fear of contradiction, that he has, beyond -all his contemporaries, promoted the -practical application of scientific discovery -to industrial purposes. It has -also been said by one who had the privilege -of his friendship, that “no one -could know him without feeling how -lovely his character was. Wonderful as -were the qualities of his mind, they were -equalled by the nobleness of his heart.”</p> - -<p>These two sentences, then, will serve -to indicate my purpose. In telling, -with necessary brevity, the story of the -life of Sir William Siemens, I shall try to -keep in view the fact that even his great -powers, without his large heart, would -never have produced the impression -which he did upon the national mind. -Hence, after I have given a sketch of -some of the more important discoveries -of the inventor, and their consequences -to the national life, I shall, with the help -of materials most kindly and liberally -placed at my disposal by his family, try -to show what manner of man he was, -and what impression he made upon -those who had the very great advantage -of personal communion with him.</p> - -<p>Charles William Siemens was born at -Lenthe in Hanover on April 4, 1823, -and was one among many of a family -eminent for their scientific knowledge -and practical skill. The possession of -such unusual talents by a whole family -is rarer, perhaps, in the intellectual life -of England than in that of Germany; at -any rate, in the absence of definite statistics -such as those compiled with so much -care by Mr. Francis Galton, the general -impression is that such is the case. It is -not difficult to discern in the scientific<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span> -career of the Brothers Siemens some -prominent characteristics of their race; -and in the life of Sir William, the sympathy -of the German mind for general -principles, and the tenacity with which -it clings to them, are well illustrated, and -stand out in strongly-marked contrast to -the usual indifference of the average -English mind to theoretic conclusions, -as opposed to so-called practical ones. -It would be well-nigh impossible to find -among Englishmen one instance in which -an inventor has been so confident of the -possible utility of a few grand general -principles, that he has worked out from -them several great inventions; and that -he felt himself justified in this confidence -after years of hard work is evidenced by -his own saying that “the farther we advance, -the more thoroughly do we approach -the indications of pure science in -our practical results.”</p> - -<p>William Siemens received his early -educational training at Lübeck, and in -the course of it the stimulus afforded to -excellence of workmanship by the German -guild system made an early and -lasting impression upon his mind, for -he repeatedly referred to it in after -life. From Lübeck he went to the Polytechnical -School at Magdeburg, where -he studied physical science with apparatus -of the most primitive kind, and -under great disadvantages, as compared -with the facilities of our modern laboratories. -After this he studied at Göttingen -University, where, under Wöhler -and Himly, he first got that insight into -chemical laws which laid the foundation -of his metallurgical knowledge, and -here began to develop in him that wonderful -thirst for discovery, which abundant -success never quenched. Here, also, -occurred what he has himself described -as “the determining incident of his -life.” Mr. Elkington, of Birmingham, -utilising the discoveries of Davy, Faraday, -and Jacobi, had devised the first -practical application of that form of -energy which we now call the electric -current, and in 1842 he established a -practical process of electro-plating. In -the following year, as the result of his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span> -own and his brother Werner’s work, -William Siemens presented himself before -Mr. Elkington with an improvement -in his process, which was adopted. -This is the first on the list of inventions -on the diagram behind me. Speaking -of his first landing in London he -says:</p> - -<p>“I expected to find some office in -which inventions were examined, and -rewarded if found meritorious; but no -one could direct me to such a place. In -walking along Finsbury Pavement, I saw -written up in large letters so-and-so (I -forget the name) ‘undertaker,’ and the -thought struck me that this must be the -place I was in quest of. At any rate I -thought that a person advertising himself -as an undertaker would not refuse -to look into my invention, with a view -of obtaining for me the sought-for recognition -or reward. On entering the -place I soon convinced myself, however, -that I had come decidedly too soon for -the kind of enterprise there contemplated, -and finding myself confronted -with the proprietor of the establishment, -I covered my retreat by what he must -have thought a very inadequate excuse.”</p> - -<p>Returning to Germany, he became a -pupil in the engine works of Count Stolberg, -to study mechanical engineering. -While there he worked out a great improvement -upon Watt’s centrifugal governor -for regulating the supply of steam -to an engine, and in 1844 he returned to -England with his invention, and soon -decided to stay here. His object in doing -so was to enjoy the security which -the English patent law afforded to inventors, -for in his own country there -were then no such laws. This chronometric -governor, though not very successful -commercially, introduced him to the -engineering world; it was originally intended -for steam engines, but its chief -application has been to regulate the -movement of the great transit instrument -at Greenwich. Then followed in quick -succession several minor inventions -which met with varying practical success, -such as the process of anastatic -printing, which was made the subject of -a Royal Institution lecture in 1845 by -Faraday; a water meter, which has -since been in general use; an air pump, -&c., &c.</p> - -<p>About this time the researches of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span> -Joule, Carnot, and Mayer upon the relations -between heat and mechanical work -were attracting much attention among -scientific men, and at the age of twenty-three, -William Siemens adopted the -hypothesis now known as the dynamical -theory of heat. More than once I have -drawn attention to the exact numerical -relation between units of heat and units -of work established by Joule, viz., that -772 foot-pounds of work is required to -generate heat enough to raise the temperature -of 1 lb. of water 1° Fah., and I -have pointed out here and elsewhere -that this was the first well-authenticated -example of that grandest of modern -generalisations, the doctrine of the Conservation -of Energy, the truth of which -is constantly receiving new illustrations.</p> - -<p>With a mind thoroughly pervaded by -this important principle, Siemens applied -himself to the study of steam and -caloric engines, and saw at once that -there was an enormous difference between -the theoretical and the actual -power gained from the heat developed -by the combustion of a given quantity -of coal, and hence that there was a very -large margin for improvement. He at -once determined to try to utilise some -of this wasted heat, and he conceived -the idea (to which I invite your particular -attention) of making a regenerator, -or an accumulator, which should retain -or store a limited quantity of heat, and -be capable of yielding it up again when -required for the performance of any -work. In the factory of Mr. John -Hicks, of Bolton, he first constructed -an engine on this plan; the saving in -fuel was great, but it was attended by -mechanical difficulties which at that time -he was unable to solve. The Society of -Arts, however, recognised the value of -the principle by awarding him a gold -medal in 1850. Three years afterwards, -his paper “On the Conversion of Heat -into Mechanical Effect,” before the Institution -of Civil Engineers, gained him -the Telford premium (awarded only -once in five years) and the medal of the -Institution. In 1856 he gave a lecture -upon his engine at the Royal Institution, -considered as the result of ten -years’ experimental work, and as the -first practical application of the mechanical -theory of heat; he then indicated -the economic considerations which en<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span>couraged -him to persevere in his experiments, -pointing out that the total national -expenditure for steam-coal alone -amounted to eight millions sterling per -year, of which at least two-thirds might -be saved!</p> - -<p>His efforts to improve the steam-engine, -however, were speedily followed -by a still more important application of -the mechanical theory of heat to industrial -purposes. In 1857 his younger -brother, and then pupil, Frederick -(who, since the death of Sir William, -has undertaken the sole charge of the -development of this branch of his elder -brother’s work), suggested to him the -employment of regenerators for the purpose -of saving some of the heat wasted -in metallurgical operations, and for four -years he labored to attain this result, -constructing several different forms of -furnace. His chief practical difficulties -arose from the use of solid fuel—coal or -coke—but when, in 1859, he hit upon -the plan of converting the solid fuel into -gaseous, which he did by the aid of his -gas-producer, he found that the results -obtained with his regenerators exceeded -his most sanguine expectations. In -1861 the first practical regenerative gas -furnace was erected at the glass works -of Messrs. Chance Bros. in Manchester, -and it was found to be very economical -in its results. Early in 1862 the attention -of Faraday was drawn to this matter, -and on June 20 of the same year, -that prince of experimentalists appeared -before the Royal Institution audience -for the last time to explain the wonderful -simplicity, economy, and power of -the Siemens regenerative gas furnace. -Age and experience have not diminished -the high estimation in which it is held; -after nearly twenty years of continuous -working and extended application, Sir -Henry Bessemer described it in 1880 as -an “invention which was at once the -most philosophic in principle, the most -powerful in action, and the most economic, -of all the contrivances for producing -heat by the combustion of coal.”</p> - -<p>The furnace consists essentially of -three parts; (1) the gas producer, which -converts the solid coal into gaseous -fuel; (2) the regenerators, usually four -in number, which are filled with fire-brick -piled in such a way as to break up -into many parts a current of air or gas<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span> -passing through them; (3) the furnace -proper, where the combustion is actually -accomplished. In using the furnace, -the gaseous fuel and air are conducted -through one pair of regenerators to the -combustion chamber; the heated gases -from this, on their way to the chimney, -pass through the other pair of regenerators, -heating them in their passage. In -the course of, say, one hour, the currents -are reversed, so that the comparatively -cold gas and air pass over these heated -regenerators before entering the furnace, -and rob them of their heat. While this -is going on, the first pair of regenerators -is being heated again, and thus, by -working them in alternate pairs, nearly -all the heat, which would otherwise have -escaped unused into the chimney, is -utilised.</p> - -<p>By this process of accumulation the -highest possible temperature (only limited -by the point at which its materials -begin to melt), can be obtained in the -furnace chamber, without an intensified -draft, and with inferior fuel.</p> - -<p>It has been found that this furnace is -capable of making a ton of crucible steel -with <em>one-sixth</em> of the fuel required without -it, and that while the temperature of -the furnace chamber exceeded 4,000° -Fahrenheit, the waste products of combustion -escaped into the chimney at -240° Fahrenheit, or very little above the -temperature at which water boils in the -open air.</p> - -<p>At the locomotive works of the London -and North Western Railway at -Crewe, where these furnaces have long -been used, it was formerly the practice -to lock a piece of pitch pine into the -flue leading to the chimney, and if at the -end of the week the wood was charred, -it was evidence that more heat had been -wasted than ought to have been, and the -men in charge of the furnace were fined.</p> - -<p>This all-important national question, -the waste of fuel, which in modern -phraseology may be truly called the -waste of energy, was constantly before -the mind of Sir William Siemens, who -lost no opportunity, in his public utterances, -of impressing his hearers, and -that still wider circle which he reached -through the medium of the press, with a -sense of the weighty consequences which -it involved. In an address at Liverpool -in 1872, as President of the Institution<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> -of Mechanical Engineers, he estimated -the total coal consumption of this country -at one hundred and twenty million -tons, which at 10s. per ton amounted to -sixty millions sterling. He strongly asserted -that one-half of this might be -saved by the general adoption of improved -appliances which were within the -range of actual knowledge; and he -went on to speak of outside speculations, -which would lead to the expectation -of accomplishing these ends with -one-eighth or even one-tenth of the -actual expenditure. In 1873 he delivered -a famous lecture on Fuel to the -operative classes at Bradford, on behalf -of the British Association, in which he -illustrated how fuel should be used by -three examples, typical of the three -great branches of consumption: <i>a</i>, the -production of steam power; <i>b</i>, the domestic -hearth; <i>c</i>, the metallurgical furnace. -In connection with the last -point he mentioned that the Sheffield -pot steel-melting furnace only utilised -<em>one-seventieth</em> part of the theoretical heat -developed in the combustion, and contrasted -with it his own furnace for melting -steel. In discussing the question of -the duration of our coal supply, he indicated -what should be our national aim -in the following suggestive and inspiring -passage:</p> - -<p>“In working through the statistical -returns of the progressive increase of -population, of steam power employed, -and of production of iron and steel, -&c., I find that our necessities increase -at a rate of not less than 8 per cent. per -annum, whereas our coal consumption -increases only at the rate of 4 per cent., -showing that the balance of 4 per cent. -is met by what may be called our ‘intellectual -progress.’ Now, considering the -enormous margin for improvement before -us, I contend that we should not be -satisfied with this rate of intellectual -progress, involving as it does an annual -deficit of four million tons to be met by -increased coal production, but that we -should bring our intellectual progress up -to the rate of our industrial progress, by -which means we should make the coal -production nearly a constant quantity -for several generations to come.”</p> - -<p>One of the direct results of this lecture, -which was read and warmly commended -by some of the most eminent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> -men of the time, was that Dr. Siemens -was consulted by Mr. Mundella in reference -to parliamentary action by the -Board of Trade in regard to the coal -question.</p> - -<p>In 1874 he received the Albert Gold -Medal from the Society of Arts “for -his researches in connection with the -laws of heat, and for services rendered -by him in the economisation of fuel in -its various applications to manufactures -and the arts,” and in 1877 he devoted -nearly the whole of his address to the -Iron and Steel Institute, of which he -was then President, to the same subject, -in which, as regards the probable duration -of our coal supply, he had been for -some time engaged in a controversy -with the late Professor Jevons, maintaining -that “the ratio of increase of -population and output of manufactured -goods would be nearly balanced for -many years to come by the further introduction -of economical processes, and -that our annual production would remain -substantially the same within that -period, which would probably be a -period of comparatively cheap coal.”</p> - -<p>One of the most important applications -of the regenerative furnace has -been to the manufacture of steel, and he -soon perceived that it was necessary for -himself to solve the various difficulties -which others regarded as practically insuperable. -“Having,” he says, “been -so often disappointed by the indifference -of manufacturers and the antagonism -of their workmen, I determined in -1865 to erect experimental or ‘sample -steel works’ of my own at Birmingham, -for the purpose of maturing the details -of these processes, before inviting manufacturers -to adopt them.” The success -of experiments in 1867-68, in making -steel rails, brought about the formation -of the Landore Siemens Steel Co., -whose works were opened in 1874. -When Dr. Siemens was knighted, the -employés of this company embodied -their congratulations in an address, and -had prepared for him a very beautiful -model of a steel furnace in ivory and -silver; the presentation of these was -prevented by his premature death, but -the address stated that “the quantity of -steel made here to the end of last year -on your process was upwards of 400,000 -tons!” In the ten years ending in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span> -1882, the annual production of open-hearth -steel in the United Kingdom increased -from 77,500 tons to 436,000 -tons. During an action in the Superior -Courts of the United States, it was -stated that the inventor had received a -million dollars in royalties, the annual -saving in that country by his process -being 3¾ millions of dollars! These -statements refer mainly, I believe, to -the conversion of cast or wrought iron -into steel, either by the “direct” process -of acting on pig-iron with iron ore -in an open hearth, or by the “scrap -process” (Siemens-Martin) of melting -wrought-iron and steel scrap in a bath -of pig-metal. Both of these require the -preliminary treatment of the blast furnace, -and in speaking of them in 1873, -Dr. Siemens said that “however satisfactory -these results might appear, I -have never considered them in the light -of final achievements. On the contrary, -I have always looked upon the direct -conversion of iron and steel from the -ore, without the intervention of blast -furnaces and the refinery, as the great -object to be attained.” How far he -succeeded in this may be gathered from -the fact that in a paper read on April -29, 1883, before the Iron and Steel Institute, -on the “Manufacture of Iron -and Steel by the Direct Process,” he -showed how to produce 15 cwt. of -wrought iron direct from the ore in three -hours, with a consumption of 25 cwt. of -coal per ton of metal, which is one-half -the quantity previously required for the -production of a ton of pig-iron only, in -the blast furnace! The long and costly -experiments which ended in the realisation -of his views extended over twenty-five -years; and it is worthy of note that -he told the Parliamentary Committee on -Patents that he would not have continued -them if the English patent law had -not insured such a period of protection -as would repay him for his labor.</p> - -<p>Great, however, as the economic results -of the gas-producer have been, its -inventor looked forward to still more -remarkable applications of it. In 1882 -he told the British Association, in his -presidential address, that he thought<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span> -“the time is not far distant when both -rich and poor will largely resort to gas as -the most convenient, the cleanest, and -the cheapest of heating agents, and -when raw coal will be seen only at the -colliery or the gas-works. In all cases -where the town to be supplied is within, -say, thirty miles of the colliery, the gas-works -may with advantage be planted at -the mouth, or, still better, at the bottom -of the pit, whereby all haulage of fuel -would be avoided, and the gas, in its -ascent from the bottom of the colliery, -would acquire an onward pressure sufficient -probably to impel it to its destination. -The possibility of transporting -combustible gas through pipes for such -a distance has been proved at Pittsburg, -where natural gas from the oil district -is used in large quantities.” It may be -well to point out here that as a step -towards this, it was a favorite project of -his—practically carried out in some -places—to divide the gaseous products -of the ordinary distillation of coal into -two, the middle portions being illuminating -gas of 18 to 20 candle power instead -of 16, and the first and last portions, -which under this system may be -largely increased, being heating gas; -such gas he expected to see sold at 1<i>s.</i> -per 1,000 cubic feet. The obvious and -only practicable objection to the plan is -the necessity for doubling all the mains -and service-pipes. That we shall eventually -burn gaseous fuel on the domestic -hearth, as we have lately learnt to do -on the metallurgical, I have not the -smallest doubt; it is a mere question of -the time necessary for the education of -the public mind upon the question; the -apter the pupil, the more speedy will be -the desired result. Let it be thoroughly -understood by every one that the soot -which hangs in a pall over London in a -single day is <em>equivalent to at least fifty -tons of coal</em>, and then there will be no -difficulty in seeing that the true and the -only remedy for our London fogs, with -all their attendant ills, is—gaseous fuel. -May we not hope that, though Sir William -Siemens has gone from among us, -the great movement for smoke abatement, -in which he so earnestly labored -during the last three years of his life, -may have full effect?</p> - -<p>If I have dwelt thus long upon this -particular branch of my subject, it is -because I know of no other which so -well illustrates two points in Sir William -Siemens’ character which I have alluded -to at the outset: his unwavering devo<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span>tion -to general principles and their consequences, -and his ardent desire to promote -the practical welfare of mankind. -There is, however, as the late Professor -Rolleston remarked to him, no subject -which more impresses the minds even of -persons who are laymen as regards science, -than the history of Telegraphy -(and I may perhaps be permitted to add, -of Electrical Engineering generally), -now so inseparably connected with his -name. The University of Göttingen, at -which he studied, was the cradle, if not -the birthplace, of the electric telegraph -in 1833. Shortly after, Sir Charles -Wheatstone in England, and Mr. Morse -in the United States, were simultaneously -working at the same problem, and -each claimed the honor of having solved -it.</p> - -<p>The telegraph, however, was still in -a very undeveloped state when the Brothers -Siemens began to study it, and their -series of inventions, especially for long-distance -telegraphy, largely aided in -bringing it to its present condition. -One of their first was the Relay, an -electro-magnet so delicate that it will -move with the weakest current. By the -use of five of Siemens’ polarised relays, -a message can be sent by the Indo-European -Telegraph from London to Teherán, -a distance of 3,800 miles, without -any retransmission by hand, and during -the Shah of Persia’s visit in 1873, Dr. -Siemens arranged for messages to be -thus regularly despatched from a room -in Buckingham Palace. In 1858, Messrs. -Siemens Brothers established near London -the well-known telegraph works, -and the construction by them in 1868 -and following years of the Indo-European -Telegraph—the overland double -line to India through Prussia, Southern -Russia, and Persia—was the first great -undertaking of the kind. Writing of it -in August, 1882, during the first Egyptian -campaign, Dr. Siemens said, “At -the present time our communication -with India, Australia, and the Cape depends, -notwithstanding the nominal existence -of the line through Turkey, on -the Indo-European Telegraph.”</p> - -<p>The Messrs. Siemens were also pioneers -in submarine telegraphy, the first -cable covered with gutta-percha having -been laid across the Rhine by Dr. Werner -Siemens in 1847. The invention of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> -the machine for coating the conducting -wire with the insulating material, gutta-percha, -or india rubber, is entirely due -to Dr. William Siemens, who also subsequently -designed the steamship <i>Faraday</i> -for the special work of laying and repairing -submarine cables. This unique -vessel was launched on Feb. 16, 1874, -and when she was completed, Dr. Siemens -invited all his scientific friends to -inspect her, and challenged them to suggest -any improvements in her arrangements. -She was first used in laying the -Direct United States Cable, which is -above 3,000 miles in length. In this -connection I may perhaps be permitted -to relate a very characteristic anecdote. -When Dr. Siemens took a contract for a -cable, the electrical tests of which were -specified, it was his invariable habit to -give out to the works a considerably -higher test, which every section of the -cable had to pass, or be rejected <i lang="la">in toto</i>. -In the case of this cable, probably during -manipulation on board ship, a minute -piece of wire penetrated the insulating -material, bringing down the electrical -test to a point below the “works” test, -but still decidedly above the contract -test. The discovery was not made until -so late that to cut out the faulty piece -involved a delay of some days in the -middle of the Atlantic, but Dr. Siemens -insisted upon its being done; after this, -stormy weather came on, and the cable -had to be cut and buoyed, while the -<i>Faraday</i> had to winter on the American -side, and resume operations next spring. -The money loss involved amounted, I -am told, to more than £30,000. Perhaps -the most remarkable of the later -feats was the fulfilment of a contract -with the Compagnie Française du Telegraphe -de Paris à New York, who ordered -a cable 3,000 miles long from the -Messrs. Siemens in March, 1879, and it -was handed over to them in perfect -working order in September of the same -year! There are now nearly 90,000 -miles of submarine cable at work, costing -about £32,000,000, and a fleet of -thirty-two ships are employed in laying, -watching, and repairing these cables, of -which there are now eleven across the -Atlantic alone.</p> - -<p>In connection with the subject of telegraphy, -and as an instance of the versatility -of Dr. Siemens’s inventive powers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span> -I may point out that in 1876 he brought -out the pneumatic postal telegraph tube, -by which, as is pretty generally known, -written messages are blown or sucked -through tubes on various metropolitan -routes, instead of being transmitted electrically. -About the same time, also, he -constructed his ingenious bathometer, -for ascertaining the depth of the sea at -any given point, without the tedious -operation of sounding; and some years -previously he worked out his electrical -thermometer or pyrometer, enabling the -observer to read the temperature (whenever -he desired) at any distant and inaccessible -point, such as the top of a -mountain, the bottom of the sea, the air -between the layers of a cable, or the interior -of a furnace.</p> - -<p>Probably the most prominent idea associated -in the public mind with the -name of Siemens is that of electric lighting, -and perhaps electric tram and railroads. -As I have more than once pointed -out in this room, the dynamo-machine, -by which mechanical energy is -converted into that form of energy -known as electricity (which may be used -both for lighting and for the transmission -of power), is derived from a principle -discovered by Faraday in 1831. Sir -William Siemens’ devotion to this, and -the important practical consequences -which he deduced from it, constitute -another example of that mental characteristic -to which I have already alluded. -Faraday’s discovery, briefly described, -was that when a bar magnet was suddenly -inserted into a coil of wire, or -when a wire was suddenly moved through -a magnetic field, a momentary current -of electricity was developed in the wire. -Although this current is exceedingly -small and brief, it is capable of unlimited -multiplication by mechanical arrangements -of a simple kind. One means for -accomplishing this multiplication was -the Siemens armature of 1857, which -consisted, at first, of a piece of iron with -wire wound round it longitudinally, not -transversely, the whole to be rotated between -the poles of a powerful magnet; -in its present form it is one of the most -powerful and perfect things of its kind, -and the evolution of the Siemens armature, -as we now have it, from the rudimentary -type of a quarter of a century -ago, has been characterised by Sir W.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> -Thomson as one of the most beautiful -products of inventive genius, and more -like the growth of a flower than to -almost anything else in the way of -mechanism made by man.</p> - -<p>Ten years afterwards came his classical -paper “On the Conversion of Dynamical -into Electrical Force, without -the use of permanent Magnetism,” which -was read before the Royal Society on -February 14, 1867. Strangely enough, -the discovery of the same principle was -enunciated at the same meeting by Sir -Charles Wheatstone, while there is yet a -third claimant in the person of Mr. -Cromwell Varley, who had previously -applied for a patent in which the idea -was embodied. It can never be quite -certain, therefore, who was the first discoverer -of the principle upon which -modern dynamo-machines are constructed. -I need not describe here the -way in which this principle is carried -out in all dynamo-machines. Suffice it -to say that they differ from Faraday’s -magneto-electric machines in having -electro-magnets in the place of permanent -steel magnets, and that these electro-magnets -are, if I may be allowed the -expression, self-excited by the play of -mutual give and take between the armature -and the magnet.</p> - -<p>It was the invention of the dynamo-machine -which made practicable the application -of electricity to industrial purposes. -Experiments have shown that it -is capable of transforming into electrical -work 90 per cent. of the mechanical -energy employed as motive power. Its -practical application is still in its infancy. -In 1785 Watt completed his -“improvements” in the steam-engine, -and the century which has since elapsed -has not sufficed to demonstrate the full -extent of its utility. What may we not -expect in the next hundred years from -the extension of the dynamo-machine to -practical purposes?</p> - -<p>In the development of appliances for -the production of the electric light Sir -William Siemens took a leading part, -and, as is well known, his firm has been -<i lang="la">facile princeps</i> at all the important electrical -exhibitions. But while ever zealous -to promote its progress, he never -took a partisan view of its utility, candidly -admitting that gas must continue -to be the poor man’s friend. In 1882<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span> -he told the Society of Arts that “Electricity -must win the day <em>as the light of -luxury</em>, but gas will find an ever-increasing -application for the more humble -purposes of diffusing light.”</p> - -<p>In the hands of Dr. Siemens the enormous -energy displayed in the Electric -Arc was applied to other purposes than -mere lighting. In June, 1880, he greatly -astonished the Society of Telegraph -Engineers by exhibiting the power of an -electrical furnace designed by him to -melt considerable quantities of such exceedingly -refractory metals as platinum, -iridium, &c. He explained that he was -led to undertake experiments with this -end in view by the consideration that a -good steam-engine converts 15 per cent. -of the energy of coal into mechanical -effect, while a good dynamo-machine is -capable of converting 80 per cent. of -the mechanical into electrical energy. -If the latter could be expended without -loss in an electric furnace, it would -doubtless far exceed in economy any -known air furnace.</p> - -<p>Moreover Sir William Siemens may -fairly be described as the creator of -electro-horticulture. Some experiments -which he made early in 1880 led him to -the conclusion that the electric light -could influence the production of coloring -matter in leaves, and promote the -ripening of fruit at all seasons of the -year, and at all hours of the day and -night. In the following winter he put -these conclusions to the test of experience -on a large scale at his country -house, Sherwood, near Tunbridge Wells, -and the results obtained were communicated -to the British Association at York -in 1881, in a paper, the value of which -was recognised by its receiving the rare -distinction of being printed in full in -the annual report.</p> - -<p>Some photographs, which he kindly -allowed me to take, represent the difference -between three kinds of corn grown -under ordinary conditions, and the same -corn, under the same conditions, with -the added stimulus of the electric light -from sunset to sunrise. He came to -the conclusion that, although periodic -darkness evidently favors growth in the -sense of elongating the stalks of plants, -the <em>continuous</em> stimulus of light was favorable -to a healthy development at a -greatly accelerated pace, through all the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span> -stages of the annual life of the plant, -from the early leaf to the ripened fruit.</p> - -<p>I have left until the last any notice of -a field of work which the Messrs. Siemens -may be truly said to have made -peculiarly their own, viz., the electrical -transmission and distribution of power; -for I firmly believe that in the future, -although not perhaps in the near future, -the practical consequences of this will -be such as are little dreamed of now; -and this opinion is, I know, held by men -far more competent to judge than I am.</p> - -<p>In March, 1877, Dr. Siemens startled -the world, in his address to the Iron and -Steel Institute, by his proposal to transmit -to distant points some of the energy -of the Falls of Niagara. As I have before -explained in this room, the electrical -transmission of energy depends -upon the fact that a dynamo-machine -may be used either to convert mechanical -into electrical energy, <em>or to effect the -reverse change</em>. Hence to transmit power -in this way, two dynamo-machines, connected -by a metallic conducting rod, or -cable, are necessary; the first, at the -water-fall or other source of power, produces -the electrical energy, which, in its -turn, is reconverted into mechanical -power by the second dynamo at the -other end of the line. In his own -grounds at Tunbridge Wells he made -numerous experiments in this subject, -distributing the power from a central -steam-engine over various parts of his -farm, there to perform different functions. -The most interesting practical -examples, as yet, are to be seen in the -electric railroads erected and worked by -Siemens Brothers in Paris, Berlin, Vienna, -&c., and in the Electric Tramroad -at Portrush. The special interest -of this line lies in the fact that it was the -first real application to railroads of -“waste energy,” inasmuch as the cars -are propelled by the power of a water-fall -eight miles off! The last occasion on -which I had the privilege of meeting Sir -William Siemens was when, honored by -his invitation, I was present at the opening -of this line in September 28, 1883. -On that occasion, which, half-a-century -hence, will be as memorable as the opening -of the Stockton and Darlington railroad, -the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland -recognised the fact that this was an entirely -new departure in the development<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span> -of the resources of Ireland, and Sir -William Siemens, in a most characteristic -speech, admitted that, had he -known the difficulties before him, he -should have thought twice before he -said “Yes” to Dr. Traill’s question as -to whether the proposed line could be -worked electrically, but that, having said -“Yes,” he was determined to carry out -the project. As illustrating the character -of the man, I may here quote the -saying common in his workshops, that -as soon as any particular problem had -been given up by everybody as a bad job, -it had only to be taken to Dr. Siemens -for him to suggest half-a-dozen ways of -solving it, two of which would be complicated -and impracticable, two difficult, -and two perfectly satisfactory.</p> - -<p>His extraordinary mental activity is -shown in the fact that between 1845 and -1883 no less than 133 patents were -granted in England to the Messrs. Siemens, -1846 and 1851 being the only -years in which none were taken out. -During the same period he contributed -as many as 128 papers on scientific subjects -to various journals, only three -years in this case also being without -such evidences of work, and in 1882 the -number of these papers reached seventeen, -the average being about seven patents -and original scientific papers per -year for more than the third of a century, -a truly wonderful record of untiring -industry. To show the impression his -work made upon the world, I quote the -following passage from the many which -appeared in the newspapers at the time -of his death. It is headed:</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">One Man’s Intellect.</span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Siemens telegraph wires gird the earth, and -the Siemens cable steamer <i>Faraday</i> is continually -engaged in laying new ones. By the -Siemens method has been solved the problem -of fishing out from the stormy ocean, from a -depth comparable to that of the vale of Chamounix, -the ends of a broken cable. Electrical -resistance is measured by the Siemens mercury -unit. “Siemens” is written on water -meters, and Russian and German revenue -officers are assisted by Siemens apparatus in -levying their assessments. The Siemens -process for silvering and gilding, and the -Siemens anastatic printing, mark stages in the -development of these branches of industry. -Siemens differential regulators control the action -of the steam-engines that forge the English -arms at Woolwich, and that of the chronographs -on which the transits of the stars are -marked at Greenwich. The Siemens cast<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span>steel -works and glasshouses, with their regenerative -furnaces, are admired by all artisans. -The Siemens electric light shines in assembly-rooms -and public places, and the Siemens gas -light competes with it, while the Siemens electro-culture -in greenhouses bids defiance to our -long winter nights. The Siemens electric railway -is destined to rule in cities and tunnels. -The Siemens electric furnace, melting three -pounds of platinum in twenty minutes, was the -wonder of the Paris Exposition, which might -well have been called an exposition of Siemens -apparatus and productions, so prominent were -they there.</p></blockquote> - -<p>Almost alone among all these results, -his theory of the “Conservation of Solar -Energy” dealt with a question not -affecting, or at least not immediately -affecting, human welfare. A great authority -has characterised this as “one -of the highest and most brilliant flights -that the scientific imagination has ever -made.” While astronomers quietly accepted -the conclusion that the sun is -cooling down, and will become at some -distant but calculable epoch a mere cinder -hung in space, he endeavored to -show that energy can no more be lost in -the solar system than it is in the laboratory -or the factory. Sir William Siemens’s -theory assumed that the interplanetary -spaces are filled with an exceedingly -thin or rare atmosphere of the -compounds of carbon, hydrogen, and -oxygen, such for example as aqueous -vapor and hydro-carbons. In this atmosphere -the sun is revolving with a -velocity four times that of the earth, and -hence the solar atmosphere at his equator -is thrown out to an enormous distance -from his surface. One consequence -of this is a perpetual indraught, -at the poles of the sun, of the surrounding -atmosphere. Thus the sun is everlastingly -being fed, and everlastingly -sending out its light and heat, which -thus recuperate themselves: in this way -the solar energy, which is sometimes assumed -to be lost in the empty void of -interstellar space, really acts upon the -rare vapors therein, and converts the -universe into a kind of vast regenerative -furnace! Had the author of this ingenious -theory lived but a few years -longer, he would doubtless have labored -to strengthen it with further observations -and arguments. As it is, it must -remain as a daring and original suggestion, -the effort of a keen and sagacious -mind to bring to fresh subjects the ex<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span>perience -and the knowledge accumulated -by work of quite a different kind. It is -more scientific to believe, with him, that -there is some restorative and conservative -agency at work, than to suppose -that the universe is gradually cooling -down into a ball of slag, were it only -because his theory does not require an -effort of creation at once tremendous -and futile. It leaves us free to avoid -contemplating a time when the solar system -was not, and another when it will -cease to be.</p> - -<p>Let us now take a brief glance at one -or two of Sir William Siemens’s public -addresses on more general subjects. His -interest in education was so keen, and -especially in that branch of education -known as technical or technological, -that these addresses almost invariably -had this for their subject, and were frequently -given at some public ceremony -in connection with it, such for example -as distributions of prizes. The most -important of them, perhaps, was given -on October 20, 1881, at the re-opening -of the Midland Institute in Birmingham. -He there surprised his audience by depreciating -the German polytechnic system -of colleges, on the ground that their -students were wanting in originality and -adaptability to new conditions. After -recounting at some length the recent industrial -applications of electricity, he -said:</p> - -<p>“My chief object in dwelling, perhaps -unduly, upon these practical questions, -is to present to your minds in a -concrete form the hopelessness of looking -upon any of the practical processes -of the present day as permanent, to be -acquired in youth and to be the staple -occupation of a lifetime.... The -practical man of former days will have -to yield his place to the unbiassed -worker who with open mind is prepared -for every step forward as it arises. For -this purpose it is necessary that he -should possess, beyond the mere practical -knowledge of his trade, a clear appreciation -of the principles of action -underlying each operation, and such -general acquaintance with the laws of -chemical and physical science as will -make it easy for him to adapt himself to -the new order of things.”</p> - -<p>He urged the prime importance of -the teaching of science being included<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span> -in the curriculum of <em>every</em> school, and -of an adequate supply of trained teachers, -as well as of properly equipped -laboratories of all kinds, wherein to -train them. Replying to the proverb, -“A little knowledge is a dangerous -thing,” he said: “A little knowledge -is an <em>excellent</em> thing, only it must be understood -that this little is fundamental -knowledge,” and he endorsed Lord -Brougham’s pithy saying, “Try to know -something about everything, and everything -about something.”</p> - -<p>In 1878 and 1879 he gave addresses -on the same subject in Liverpool, Tunbridge -Wells, Paris, and elsewhere. In -pointing out the results of the superior -French system of technical education, -he urged that we should not servilely -copy it, but that we should imitate the -French example with due regard to the -idiosyncrasies of our own country. He -approved the spontaneous and self-supporting -nature of the English system, as -more adaptable to free and vigorous development -than a governmental system. -His address to the Coventry Science -Classes in October, 1882, upon <em>Waste</em>, -in which he took as examples, waste of -time, of food, of personal energy, of -mechanical energy, and of fuel, was full -of wise and sound practical advice, -clothed in the simplest language.</p> - -<p>In conclusion, let me try, with the aid -of private letters and papers which it -has been my privilege to peruse, to bring -before you some of the personal characteristics -of the man whose life-work we -have been considering. Of his extraordinary -perseverance in overcoming obstacles -I have already spoken, and it has -been well remarked that, to a mind and -body requiring almost perpetual exercise, -these difficulties supplied only a -wholesome quantity of resistance. In -the two valuable qualities of tenacity -and pliancy of intellect he has perhaps -never been surpassed. Suppleness and -nimbleness of mind are rarely allied -with that persistent “grip,” which, -without them, is not unlikely to degenerate -into obstinacy. In Sir William -Siemens these qualities were happily -balanced. His talents were the admiration -of his contemporaries, and his -memory will ever be respected and honored -by all, friends and rivals alike; for -the facility with which he applied his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> -powers to the solution of the most difficult -problems was equalled by the modesty -with which he presented the successful -result of his efforts. An eminent -engineer said of him, “With all his -great work, no envious word was ever -mixed!” At the time when he received -his honorary degree from the University -of Oxford, a distinguished Oxonian -wrote: “I believe an alumnus more -distinguished by great ability, and by a -high and honorable determination to -use it for the good of his fellowmen, and -to help forward man’s law of existence, -‘Subdue the earth and have dominion -over it,’ never received a degree from -the University of Oxford.” Of the -other distinctions heaped upon him, it -was often said that the Society rather -than Dr. Siemens was honored; and -when he was knighted, a well-known -man of science, writing to congratulate -him, said: “At the same time I feel -that the ennobling of three such men as -yourself, Abel, and Playfair confers -more honor on the order of knighthood -than even it does on science.”</p> - -<p>The fame of Sir William Siemens was -world-wide, as it deserved to be; but -those who knew him best will be the -most ready to acknowledge that the qualities -of his heart were no less conspicuous -than those of his intellect. Hear -what his pupils and assistants said of -him:—“How my dear old master will -be missed, and what a gap in many walks -of life will be unfilled!” “There are -many younger members of our profession -who will look elsewhere in vain for such -genial uniform kindness and sympathy -as his invariably was.”“The seven -years I spent in his service were the happiest -in my life.” “It was the loss of -the kindest and best friend I ever had, -and I have not known such sorrow since -the loss of my older brother. The keenest -incentive I had in my new work was -the desire of showing him that his kindly -recommendation was justified by the -event.”In acknowledging the gift from -Lady Siemens of some objects of remembrance, -one writes:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span> “They, as visible -objects on which his eyes must have -rested frequently, will, I feel certain, -when I shall look at them, tend to -encourage me in overcoming difficulties, -of which there exist always plenty for -those who wish to contribute their share, -however small, to the progress of things -of this world. It is this example which -Sir William Siemens has given to all the -world, which will, I believe, be the most -beneficial for future generations, and for -those who are wise enough to follow it.”</p> - -<p>Of his character as a man of business -let Messrs. Chance Bros. speak, as one -testimony out of many: “Our firm -having been the first to carry out in -England on a large scale the Siemens -regenerative process, we were brought -into close and frequent communication -with him, and had the opportunity of -appreciating not only his extraordinary -inventive powers, but also his thorough -straightforwardness and integrity of -character.”</p> - -<p>I have spoken of his interest in education, -and I quote two opinions thereon. -Lord Sherbrooke, in conversation with a -mutual friend, regretted immensely that -he had not been a pupil of Sir W. Siemens, -and spoke of him, and of those -who were working with him to enlarge -our sphere of knowledge, as the salt of -the earth. A distinguished American -expressed himself as strongly impressed -not only with a sense of his great learning, -but with admiration of the native -strength of his mind, and the soundness -of his educational views.</p> - -<p>Many testified to his great benevolence. -The German Athenæum wrote: -“If the world of science has lost in your -late husband one of its brightest stars, -the poor, the striving student, as well as -the struggling artist, have lost a liberal -benefactor and a patron; and on hearing -of his sad and but too early death, -many will have exclaimed, ‘We ne’er -shall look upon his like again!’” An -eminent man spoke of him as one “whose -life has been spent in an unselfish and -unceasing devotion to God’s creatures.” -Many of the letters which I have read -convey the thoughts of some of his -friends on hearing of his death, in language -such as this:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span> “We all felt struck -down; realising how much poorer his -loss had left the world, leaving us as he -did when full of the vigor of his endless -interests, and brightening all around him, -not only by his genius and high intellect, -but by his marvellous benevolence and -tender consideration, so full was he of -kind feeling and thought for others. He -was in a high degree the possessor of -those sweet domestic virtues which, while -so simple and unostentatious, were so -spontaneous and charming. What an -eminently well-rounded life was his! -Our children will always remember how -he was held up to them as a man almost -without an equal.” A confidential servant, -who had lived in his family many -years, wrote of him as the most Christ-like -man she had ever met; and that he -always reminded her of the Arab prince -who asked the recording angel, when -writing in his book the names of those -who loved the Lord, to write him as one -who loved his fellowmen; the angel -wrote and carried the book to heaven, -bringing it back again to show; and when -the prince looked, lo, his name led all -the rest!</p> - -<p>Of his family relations, the Rev. Mr. -Haweis thus wrote, in a sermon on -“Friends!” “What a beautiful sight, -too, was the friendship of the late Sir -William Siemens for his brothers, and -theirs for him! not less beautiful because -lived out unconsciously in the full glare -and publicity of the commercial world, -into which questions of amity are not -supposed to enter, especially when they -interfere with business. But here were -several brothers, each with his large firm, -his inventions, his speculations, yet each -at the other’s disposal; never eager to -claim his own, never a rival! These -men were often separated by time and -space, but they were one in heart.”</p> - -<p>One who had exceptional opportunities -of knowing him wrote:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span> “His characteristic -of intensity in whatever he was -engaged in was remarkable. Even in his -relaxations he entered into them with his -whole heart; indeed, it did one good to -hear his ringing laugh when witnessing -some amusing play—the face lit up with -well-nigh childlike pleasure—no trace of -the weariness which had been visible after -a long day of work of such varied -kinds, all demanding his most serious -attention, involving often momentous -world-wide results. As a travelling -companion he was indeed the light and -happiness of those who had the privilege -to be with him. Everything that could -lessen fatigue, or add to the enjoyment -and interest of the journey, was thought -of, and tenderly carried out, and the -knowledge of the pleasure he was giving -was his sweet reward. Young people -and children clustered round him, and -he spared no trouble to explain simply -and clearly any question they asked -him.”</p> - -<p>The Rev. D. Fraser, in a funeral address, -said: “The combination of -mental power with moral uprightness and -strength is always impressive. And this -is what signally characterised him whose -death we mourn. There have been very -few more active and inquiring minds in -this generation: the keenness and swiftness -of his intellectual processes were -even more surprising than the extent and -variety of his scientific attainments. But -such powers and such acquirements have, -alas! been sometimes in unworthy alliance -with jealous dispositions and a low -moral tone. What will endear to us the -memory of William Siemens is that he -was, while so able and skilful, also so -modest, so upright, so generous, and so -totally free from all narrowness and -paltriness of spirit. And God, whose -wisdom and power he reverently owned, -has taken him from us!”</p> - -<p>Yes, God has taken him from us to a -deeper insight into, and a greater work -amongst and beyond, those works of His -which he so loved and studied here. Can -we imagine a greater fulness of joy than -that which must now be his in the vast -increase of his knowledge, and the satisfying -of every wish of the great warm -heart and noble nature which was so -plainly but the beginning of better things? -How can we doubt that for a nature so -richly endowed there is higher scope -alike for knowledge and for service in -the great Eternity? Such beauty and -grandeur and energy and power cannot -be laid low—they are not destroyed, -nothing is lost, but all will live again -in ever-growing splendor! A noble, -beautiful, and gifted spirit has passed to -the higher and fuller life, and with us is -left an influence for good which cannot -die. Just as this generation is now profiting -by the solar radiation which fell on -the earth countless ages ago, so will the -labors of Charles William Siemens form -a store of knowledge, potential with respect -to this and succeeding generations, -and destined to confer advantages, greater -than we can now estimate, on the ever-advancing -cause of science, and on the -moral, intellectual, and material progress -of humanity!—<cite>Gentleman’s Magazine.</cite></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span></p> - - - - -<h2><a name="A_FRENCH_DRAMA_UPON_ABELARD" id="A_FRENCH_DRAMA_UPON_ABELARD">A FRENCH DRAMA UPON ABELARD.</a><br /> - -<small>BY A CONCEPTUALIST.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span></p> - -<p>One warm evening in the summer of -1836, the late Count Charles De Rémusat, -sauntering through the streets of -Paris in that frame of mind which the -French describe by the expressive word -<i lang="fr">desœuvrement</i>, was arrested by the <i lang="fr">affiche</i> -on the portals of the Ambigu-Comique. -It announced a drama by MM. Anicet -Bourgeois and François cornue, called -<cite>Heloïse et Abelard</cite>. It had been running -for several months; and the vacant politician -entered the house and settled himself -in a <i lang="fr">fauteuil d’orchestre</i>. The future -friend and colleague of Thiers, whom -he preceded to the grave only by a narrow -interval, was already a person of -some distinction; but though in many -respects a severe critic, he was singularly -tolerant of the literary defects and the -artistic shortcomings of dramas intended -to propitiate the popular taste by -fertility of incident and freshness of invention. -That evening, however, he -confessed himself displeased. The play -violated familiar records without either -heightening or purifying passion, and -sacrificed history to fiction, without rendering -it more philosophical.</p> - -<p>But though he walked homeward with -that sense of dissatisfaction which is -generally experienced by persons of education -and sensibility after a visit to -the modern theatre, the play continued -to haunt him. With its subject he must -have been already thoroughly familiar, -for are not Eloisa and Abelard the most -celebrated lovers in history? But though -at college he had been distinguished by -the elegance of his lyrics, De Rémusat -had attained the meridian of life without -acquiring, or even attempting to acquire, -a distinct reputation as a man of letters. -Like most of the aspiring spirits of his -time, he had betaken himself to political -journalism, trusting that it would conduct -to parliamentary honors, and obtain -for him a share in the direction of -affairs of State. At first a somewhat -docile pupil of Guizot, by the time the -famous <i>Globe</i> was started he had shaken -himself entirely free from the influence -of that doctrinaire statesman, and he -shortly became one of its most indefati<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span>gable -contributors. How successfully -he had employed his pen may be surmised -from the fact that his name appears -in the list of signatures to the -famous Protest against the <i>Ordonnances</i> -of Polignac, which caused the Revolution -of July. The first Parliament -summoned after the accession of Louis -Philippe found him, at the age of thirty-three, -Member for Muret a constituency -in the Haute Garonne which he continued -to represent till the Revolution of -1848. Justifiably ambitious of power, -that he might advance the cause of -Constitutional Government, he abstained -from associating his reputation with -non-political compositions; and this -sternly practical resolve seemed, through -long persistence, at length to have weaned -him from all interest in the more -subtle workings of the intellect.</p> - -<p>But there is something stronger than -the resolves of the most resolute man, -and that is innate disposition, or natural -bent, which, try to rid himself of it as -he may, <i lang="la">tamen usque recurret</i>. De -Rémusat flattered himself that, in strenuously -devoting his faculties to political -journalism, in writing leading articles on -the current topics of the hour, in examining -Parliamentary Bills, and in composing -Legislative Reports, he had -stifled in himself the original taint of an -evil passion for literature. That accidental -visit to the Ambigu-Comique, -the representation of that inferior and -distorted play, stirred in him afresh his -native passion. He could not get rid of -the figure of that strange personage, at -once exalted philosopher and frensied -lover, belonging unquestionably to history, -yet made, it would seem, expressly -for the purposes of romance. On the -very morrow of that eventful evening, -he might have been seen in the library -of the Chamber of Deputies, asking for -the volume that contained the correspondence -of Abelard and Eloisa. The -chamber was not sitting, for it was vacation -time; and he carried the book with -him to Lafitte, in the Haute Garonne, -where he had recently established his -household gods. He perused it without<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span> -delay or intermission; for the man who, -taking up the correspondence of the -separated lovers of the Paraclete, could -lay it down unfinished, may rest assured -that he has little genuine interest in the -more romantic workings of human -nature. But on the 6th of September -the Ministry of Casimir-Périer was overthrown, -and Count Molé was summoned -to form a Cabinet. His Minister of the -Interior was M. Gasparin, and De -Rémusat was appointed Under-Secretary -of State for the same department. Had -the career of the new Ministry been a -protracted one, it is possible that time -would have divorced his attention from -Abelard and mediæval philosophy. But -in less than a twelvemonth Molé’s Cabinet -was overthrown, and the liberated -Under-Secretary buried himself once -more in the passions and dialectics of -the twelfth century. He spent much of -the winter of 1837 in studying the period -in which the Gallic Socrates—Gallorum -Socrates, it was the pleasure of -Abelard’s followers to designate him—had -lived, triumphed, and suffered; and -in the course of the summer of the following -year a “Philosophical Drama” -on the subject was completed. For -nearly forty years it lay in manuscript -in the author’s drawer, though he occasionally -permitted himself the indulgence -of reading portions of it in the -intellectual salons of Paris which he -frequented. Its success in those select -but critical circles was considerable; -and it was probably the encouragement -thus extended to him that led to his -writing <cite>Abélard, sa Vie, sa Philosophie, -et sa Theologie</cite>, the best account extant -of the great Conceptualist, his metaphysics, -and his fate.</p> - -<p>The latter work was published as long -ago as 1845. Why, then, was the drama -kept back? The reason is a curious -one. Perhaps in foraging so extensively -among the records of the twelfth century, -De Rémusat had become impressed -with the mediæval motto, “Beware -the man of one book.” He was afraid, -so his son assures us, to risk his reputation -with the public as a statesman -and a man of affairs, by appearing before -it as the writer of a drama, even a -“philosophical” one, on a subject notoriously -romantic.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Il faut bien dire,” says M. Paul De -Rémusat, “que la première raison de mon père -pour refuser de publier le drame d’Abélard, -c’était la pensée que, dans notre pays, les -hommes sont d’avance et dès leur début, et -qu’il ne voulait point sortir de la situation -littéraire et politique où il s’était d’abord placé. -Il avait vu trop souvent la défiance accuellir -une œuvre nouvelle et étrangère aux premiers -essais d’un écrivain. L’idée d’un homme -universel, ou seulement doué de talents variés, -est rarement acceptée, et ce qu’on gagne en -étendu paraît presque toujours perdu en profondeur. -L’example de Voltaire, qui était si -longtemps discuté et contesté, est plus effrayant -pour les audacieux que rassurant pour les -timides. Mon père n’espérait pas que l’on fit -en sa faveur une exception à la loi commune -de la spécialité de l’esprit. Il lui semblait qu’il -n’eût acquit en littérature quelque réputation -qu’au dépens de son autorité politique.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>These scruples, at least in the case of -De Rémusat, seem excessive. The -French <i lang="fr">bourgeoisie</i> have never had that -rooted antipathy to men of genius which -is characteristic of the middle class in -England; and it certainly would not -have taken the better part of fifty years -to convince them that the author of -<cite>Vivian Grey</cite> had in him the stuff of a -practical and hard-headed statesman. -Moreover, a philosophical drama, by -the very sobriety of its title, protects its -author against the charge of excessive -literary levity. Finally, the political -career of the author of <cite>Abélard</cite>, though -not devoid of distinction, was hardly of -that commanding sort which might console -some men, at its close, for the sacrifice -of more congenial tastes and more -enduring fame. He became Minister of -the Interior, for a brief period, in Thiers’ -Cabinet of 1840, and after the Revolution -of 1848 he remained a member of -the Constituent and Legislative Assemblies. -But the <i lang="fr">Coup d’état</i> practically -put an end to his political prospects. -It is true he reappeared, for a short interval, -as the <i lang="la">fides Achates</i> of Thiers during -that statesman’s brief tenure of power -after the Franco-German War. But he -was too advanced in years, and too completely -overshadowed by his conspicuous -friend, who concentrated all business -and all distinction in his own person, -to add anything to his former reputation -as a politician. His son observes that, -in withholding the publication of his -drama upon Abélard, he perhaps remembered -one of the most touching observa<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span>tions -of his hero, “<i lang="fr">Dieu punit en moi la -présomption des lettrés</i>.” I read the -moral of De Rémusat’s life differently. -The penalty attached to the presumption -of men-of-letters he undoubtedly escaped. -It was the politician whom Heaven -punished, for presuming to think that a -man can arrange and map out his career -irrespectively of the gifts with which it -has endowed him, or that it is permissible, -in deference to the prejudices of -the vulgar, to protect one’s brow against -the imperishable bays of the poet, lest -they should be denied the tinsel and -quickly-fading wreaths of the popular -politician. He lived, we will trust, to -estimate the relative value of things more -wisely, though he might have learnt, -while studying the fate of Abélard, that -notoriety, which is the nearest approach -to fame to be secured by a politician, is -“fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain.” -But if he learned the lesson, he learned -it in long years of exclusion from worthless -power. He returned to his books -when universal suffrage, allied with despotism, -brought forth that atrocious -bastard, Imperial Democracy; and he -found in pursuits, his native passion for -which he had once been half ashamed to -own, something more than compensation -for the loss of personal rivalries and -sterile debates.</p> - -<p>At the same time, let us beware of -doing De Rémusat an injustice. That -he was one of those men who caress their -reputation, and, in doing so, too often -mar it, is certain; for we have his own -avowal of the infirmity, corroborated by -the statements of his son. But, in -accounting for the suppression of his -drama upon Abélard, we must allow -something to genuine and, let me hasten -to add, excessive modesty. It is not the -voice of the literary coquette, but of the -diffident literary workman, that we overhear -in these charming sentences, to be -found in the preface to his prose labors -upon Abélard:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Changeant de but et de travail, je m’occupai -alors de mieux connaître l’Abélard de la réalité, -d’apprendre sa vie, de pénétrer ses écrits, d’approfondir -ses doctrines; et voilà comme s’est -fait le livre que je soumets en ce moment au -jugement du public. Destiné à servir d’accompagnement -et presque de compensation à -une tentative hasardeuse, il paraît seul aujour -d’hui. Des illusions téméraires sont à demi -dissipées; une sage voix que je voudrais<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span> -écouter toujours, me conseille de renoncer -aux fictions passionnées et de dire tristement -adieu à la muse qui les inspire.</p></blockquote> - - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">. . . . . . Abi</div> -<div class="verse">Quo blandi juvenum te revocant preces.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="p2">No doubt a mere literary <i lang="fr">succès d’estime</i> -would not have satisfied one who had -been an Under-Secretary of State; and -great literary reputations were being -made in France at the time this resolution -was taken. But De Rémusat goes -on to say that he “tenait à expier en -quelque sorte une composition d’un -genre moins sévère,” and frankly stating -that the drama was “une de ces -œuvres enfin qui n’ont qu’une excuse -possible, celle du talent,” he, with sincere -humility, put it back in his drawer.</p> - -<p>Was he right? Having read his -Philosophical Drama, I am of opinion -that he was wrong. It exhibits literary -faculty of a high order, and it is deficient -in none of those penetrating qualities of -intelligence which serve to render the -imagination at once free and efficient -when engaged in dramatic work. We -do not say that it reaches the heaven of -invention; and, indeed, its author was -inspired by no such soaring ambition. -He writes in prose, and prose which, -though always classical and often eloquent, -never seeks to pass the boundary -between prose and poetry invariably respected -by the judicious. But he had -saturated himself with the atmosphere -of the time in which the action of his -drama is laid; and he had represented -to himself in clear and well-defined outlines -the character of his central figure. -To do all this is surely to write a work -of no little difficulty with no little success.</p> - -<p>Shortly after quitting Nantes by the -post-road that conducts to Poitiers, the -traveller passes, before reaching Clisson, -a village consisting of one long street, -which, if he thinks it worth while to inquire, -he will be told is called Le Pallet. -No one, however, will concern himself -to add that behind the unpretending but -venerable church which stands on a slight -elevation to the left, above the last cottages -in the place, are to be seen some -all but submerged walls, and here and -there the choked vestiges of an ancient -moat. These are all that remain of the -castle of Le Pallet, which was levelled -with the ground more than four centuries<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span> -and a half ago, in the course of the wars -that succeeded the attack directed by -Marguerite de Clisson against John V., -Duke of Brittany. Hard by is an insignificant -stream, known as the Sanguèze, -and which evidently owes its name, like -the Italian Sanguinetto that flows into -the Lake of Thrasymene, to the blood of -battle that is recorded to have once dyed -its waters.</p> - -<p>In 1079, the Castle of Le Pallet stood -intact on its little eminence; and in that -year, though on what day of the calendar -cannot be said, the famous dialectician, -Pierre Abélard, was born within its -walls. His father, its lord, was called -Bérenger; his mother’s name was Lucie. -This much may be asserted, with every -probability that it is true; but these -bare facts are about all that tradition -has preserved, or literary industry unearthed. -Bérenger, though inured, like -everyone in his position in those warlike -times, to the exercise of arms, manifested -a predilection for letters rarely encountered -in his class, and is said to -have intentionally inspired his sons with -a love for philosophical studies, not -easily reconciled with the performance -of knightly duties. There were, at least, -three other sons of the marriage, Raoul, -Porcaire, and Dagobert, and a daughter, -Dényse; and if we may trust the testimony -of the first of the Letters which -compose the famous correspondence of -Eloisa and Abelard, into all Bérenger’s -sons alike was inculcated the notion that -distinction in knowledge is a worthier -object of ambition than the trophies of -war. Pierre manifested a much readier -disposition than his brothers to accept -the paternal estimate of the relative -value of courage and culture; and -though he was the eldest-born, he waived -his rights of inheritance in order more -freely to pursue the path indicated by -his parent. The story is a strange, not -to say an incredible one, for times when -the sword was the only true badge of -honor; and we are driven to conclude -either that Abelard sought to remove -from himself the stigma which he would -have incurred by such a choice, had he -not surrounded it with the halo of filial -duty, or that his biographers were determined -that dramatic completeness should -attend his character from the very outset -of his career. His own words are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span> -that he deliberately abandoned the court -of Mars in order to shelter himself in -the lap of Minerva. Probably the only -conclusion that can safely be drawn -from all the statements respecting his -selection is, that he developed at an -early age extraordinary talents for the -acquisition of learning and the conduct -of philosophical discussion, and that he -was freely permitted to indulge his bent -by parents who had no interest in thwarting -him.</p> - -<p>It was impossible, however, that he -should cultivate his passion for letters -and philosophy within the boundaries of -Brittany, then, as now, perhaps the least -instructed portion of what was not yet -territorially known as France. He -travelled from place to place in search -of persons who taught dialectics, and -even thus early he prided himself upon -imitating the ancient philosophers to -the extent of being a peripatician or vagrant. -Among his preceptors at this -period, the name of one only is known -to us; nor is it possible to say where it -was that Abelard reaped the benefit of -his teaching. Jean Roscelin, Canon of -Compiègne, was already under ecclesiastical -ban for his uncompromising Nominalism, -when Abelard entered upon his -teens, and for a time at least had to -take refuge in England. Some have -contended that Abelard must have -passed a portion of his youth upon our -shores; but the supposition is as utterly -without proof as the assertion of Otho -of Frisingen that Roscelin was Abelard’s -first instructor in philosophy. It is -more probable that the young catechumen -encountered the ostracised teacher -in some of those more hidden and remote -conferences of learning, to which the -hostility of his ecclesiastical superiors -had compelled him to limit his philosophical -energy.</p> - -<p>But what was that which Abelard -wished to learn and that Roscelin, or -any teacher, or, as we should say, Professor -of the period, had to communicate? -And how was the knowledge, -which some sought to impart and many -to acquire, conserved? Universities -had not yet been called into being; and -no great centres of recognized learning -drew to themselves the youth or crystallized -the opinions of an entire nation. -In their stead, and operating as yet as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span> -sole substitute, were Episcopal Schools, -under the immediate protection and supervision -of the Archbishop or Bishop -of the diocese; and it depended almost -as much on the ambition of a Prelate as -upon the importance of his See, whether -his School acquired a wide renown, or -remained the obscure head-quarters of -local instruction. Deriving his faculties -from the Bishop, there presided over -each Episcopal School a clerical lecturer, -or “scholastic”; and all those who attended -his classes, or course, were -termed his scholars. The success of his -teaching and the number of his followers -necessarily shed lustre on his episcopal -superior and upon the province in which -the latter resided; and the emulation -which burned among the more intelligent -and aspiring members of the Episcopate, -in their endeavors to secure for -their respective schools Masters of erudition -and eloquence, was almost an exact -anticipation of the spirit of honorable -rivalry that subsists among the Governing -Bodies of modern German Universities. -Those who favor the doctrine -that there is nothing new under the sun, -will perhaps be disposed to look backward -rather than forward for a parallel -to the influence of the Scholastics of -the Middle Ages. Hippias, Prodikos, -Gorgias, and other less famous men, -whose names have been preserved to us -by Plato, passed from city to city in -ancient Greece, teaching and disputing. -Some, we are told, amassed considerable -fortunes; while one and all gathered -about them the restless brains of their -generation, who carried through the -land the fame of their doctrines and the -brilliance of their rhetoric.</p> - -<p>De Rémusat’s drama opens in the -cloister of Nôtre-Dame, where a number -of scholars are assembled to hear a -lecture by Guillaume de Champeaux. -The master has not yet arrived; and -the first scene is passed in what the -undergraduates of the nineteenth century -call chaff. Finally, the great lecturer -makes his appearance; the scholars -crowd around him, and he proceeds -to expound his thesis of the reality of -Universals, or the substantiality of abstract -ideas. In a word, he is the -champion of Realism as opposed to -Nominalism, and maintains, for example, -that Man exists as really and es<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span>sentially -as any individual man, and that -Humanity is not a mere name or intellectual -abstraction, but just as much -an entity as a building composed of so -many stones. At the end of his discourse -he says, “Are you all satisfied, -or is anyone present harassed by doubt? -If so, let him speak, and I will answer -him.”</p> - -<p>Abelard rises. He is unknown equally -to master and to scholars, but he soon -enchains attention by the vigor of his -dialectic. He involves the lecturer in a -series of contradictions, and ends by -establishing his proposition that Universals -are neither realities, nor mere names, -but Conceptions, and by winning over -the whole class to his views. In vain -Guillaume de Champeaux pronounces -the word heresy, and points out that -Abelard bases his theories on the dangerous -foundation of human reason. -The remainder of the First Act, which is -entitled “La Philosophie,” is devoted -to depicting the supremacy gradually -obtained by the brilliant young Breton -over the students of Nôtre-Dame, until, -Guillaume de Champeaux finally abandoned -by his scholars, Abelard can -exclaim, “<i lang="fr">Maintenant l’Ecole de Paris, -c’est moi!</i>”</p> - -<p>The Second Act, the scene of which -is laid at Laon a year later, is headed -“La Théologie”; and in it Abelard -acquires over Anselme of Laon, in -theological controversy, a victory analogous -to that he had previously won over -Guillaume de Champeaux in the realm -of metaphysics. The audience is the -same, for the students of Nôtre-Dame -have followed Abelard to Laon; and -the same is the weapon with which his -triumph is achieved. “When theology,” -he exclaims in the course of a warm disputation -with Anselme, “is not seconded -by dialectic, vainly does it knock at -the door of the spirit; it is reason that -holds the key, and opens to the truth.” -Anselme replies with anathemas. Then -Abelard bursts out:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“You hear him. My friends, he is old and -feeble. Be good to him, but lead him away. -His advanced age unfits him for these wrestlings -with science. Take him into the air. -Alas! Saint Matthew was right when he said -you may not put new wine into old bottles.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>His words are received with acclamation; -and the overthrow of Anselme de<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span> -Laon, in spite of his friendship with -Saint Bernard, is as complete as the -dethronement of Guillaume de Champeaux. -In an incredibly short space of -time, Abelard has seen the fulfilment -of his most ambitious dreams, and he -finds himself surrounded by a band of -scholars who regard him as the oracle of -his age. Yet in the midst of these -astounding triumphs, he experiences “a -mixture of impatience and weakness, of -ardor and weariness,” and thus soliloquizes:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“My fondest hopes have been surpassed. -Withal a secret disquietude, the source of -which escapes me, leaves me dissatisfied. I -feel agitated, fatigued, worn out. Everything -with me has succeeded; nothing is wanting to -me that I can name, and yet I am not happy. -A vague sense of irritation, which I cannot overcome, -prevents me from delighting in anything; -this life of struggle is arid and devouring, -and in the glowing eyes of my scholars I -often discern more joy than I can attain by -all the efforts of my intellect.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>It is not difficult to surmise the disease -from which Abelard was suffering. -It was</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The dreary desert of the mind,</div> -<div class="verse">The waste of feelings unemployed;</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and it is just as easy to guess the cure -that is forthcoming. The Third Act is -called “L’Amour,” and we find Abelard -installed, for so many hours a day, -in the house of Fulbert, Canon of Nôtre -Dame—for the scene has again shifted -to Paris—indoctrinating his erudite -niece Eloisa into all the learning of the -time. In De Rémusat’s drama she is -represented as already in love, if not -with the person, with the renown of -Abelard; and before his second visit -she thus communes with her thoughts:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>He is coming. I cannot read, except with -him. I understand nothing, except through -him. Before he came I fancied I knew something, -appreciated the ancients, and felt what -is beautiful. I was a child feeding upon -memory; that is all. It is he, he alone, who -has revealed to me the secret of things, who -has shown me the essence of my thoughts, -who has initiated me into the mysteries of the -spirit.</p></blockquote> - -<p>He arrives, and the lesson begins. -She is all attention. But Abelard -wanders from the theme. He would -fain, he says, tear himself from the -crowd, and study with her.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span> “We -would read, we would work together—or -rather, for what avails this study that -consumes the soul—we would enjoy -tranquillity, long walks, a bright sun, a -beautiful country, a boat upon the river, -or the fire-side, even as we are now. -Should we not be happy?” Her answers -do not satisfy him, for they are -modest and measured. “You do not -understand me,” he exclaims, with impatience, -and she begs to be forgiven for -being so inapt a scholar. No, it is not -that. They resume the lesson, but this -time it is the <cite>Heroides</cite> of Ovid that lie before -them. Together they read <cite>Hero to -Leander</cite>, and <cite>Leander to Hero</cite>, those -two exquisite Love Letters, which will -always make Ovid a contemporary. -“Galeotto fu il libro e chi lo scrisse,” -says Dante, in that unmatched description -of the <i lang="it">Tempo de’ dolci sospiri</i>, and -<i lang="it">Di dubbiosi desiri</i>; and what happened -to Francesca dà Polenta and Paolo -Malatesta when reading</p> - -<p class="center"> -Di Lancilotto, come amor lo strinse,<br /> -</p> - -<p>happened equally to Abelard and Eloisa -when reading the imaginary correspondence -of Hero and Leander. “O, tu -es si belle!” “C’est toi qui es beau.” -“Beau de notre amour.”</p> - -<p>Very French, no doubt. But it is -done with considerable skill, and occupies -almost as many pages as I have devoted -to its words. Love scenes cannot -be compressed. They are, of necessity, -long, except to those who figure in them. -Whether this was the portion of his -philosophical drama which the serious -statesman was fond of reading aloud in -the intellectual <i lang="fr">salons</i> of Paris, I cannot -say. But, if it was, I suspect that some -of the more staid matrons among his -audience repeated the words put by the -author into the mouth of his heroine, -“C’est comme la vapeur de l’encens, -cela enivre.”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Abelard neglects his public -duties, and his attachment to one -fair student becomes the subject of -speculation and banter among his scholars. -By degrees the weakness of the -great Scholastic is bruited in the streets, -and ballads are sung at night in the public -places associating his name with the -niece of Fulbert. One of these Abelard -himself overhears. Here is one strophe -with its refrain:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">C’est l’histoire singulière</div> -<div class="verse">A se raconter le soir,</div> -<div class="verse">Du maître et l’ecolière,</div> -<div class="verse">De l’amour et du savoir.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Fillettes, fillettes,</div> -<div class="verse">Trop lire est mauvais.</div> -<div class="verse">Cueillez des violettes</div> -<div class="verse">Au prè Saint-Gervais.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>He is alarmed, and his consternation -is increased when he learns from Eloisa -that the suspicions of her uncle have -been aroused. There is but one remedy—marriage. -Eloisa protests; for will -not marriage rob Abelard of glory and -preferment? At last she consents, but -with the utmost reluctance, to secret -nuptials. Abelard himself, in the celebrated -letter written by him, <cite>Ad Amicum</cite>, -declares that Fulbert was privy to -their union, and that it was the self-sacrificing -denial by Eloisa, after the marriage, -that any union had taken place, -which roused the vindictiveness of her -uncle. De Rémusat, I suppose for the -sake of dramatic effect, represents Fulbert -as ignorant of the marriage, until -the mutilated body of Abelard lies at -her feet:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse indent12"><i>Fulbert.</i></div> - -<div class="verse indent6">Tenez, voilà votre fiancé.</div> - -<div class="verse"><i>Heloise</i> (se jetant sur son amant).</div> - -<div class="verse indent2">Mon mari!</div> - -<div class="verse indent12"><i>Fulbert.</i></div> - -<div class="verse indent4">Son mari! Je suis perdu.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>So ends the Third Act. The fourth -is called, somewhat arbitrarily, “La -Politique,” and is mainly concerned -with the condemnation of Abelard by -the Council of Soissons. True, the -authority of the King is invoked against -him; but the enemies by whom Abelard -is pursued are theologians, and it is -they who humiliated him by compelling -him publicly to burn his treatise on the -Trinity. But for the reappearance of -Eloisa at this critical juncture, the -Fourth Act would be somewhat tedious. -There is no historical foundation for her -intervention; but it is strictly in harmony -with what we know of her character, -and De Rémusat turns it to admirable -account. Abelard asks why -she seeks out one who is condemned, -who is proscribed, who is silenced? -She replies that she has come to be with -him on the greatest day of his life. -Nothing was wanting to his glory but -martyrdom; and now he has obtained it. -His work is finished; let him abjure the -world that has treated him so ill.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Viens, allons-nous-en, quittons le siècle, -fuyons ce pays, la France, le monde chrétien. -Chez les infidèles nous trouverons plus de<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span> -repos, nous serons plus ignorés, nous vivrons -plus heureux. Cherchons la retraite la plus -profonde, la plus lointaine, la plus perdue; -cachons à tous notre vie et notre bonheur.</p></blockquote> - -<p>Next she invokes the seductive allurements -of nature, and presents to him -a picture of rural loveliness and felicity, -recalling the famous invitation to sunny -climes in <cite>The Lady of Lyons</cite>:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Nous irons vers ces climats vantés où le -ciel est si pur, l’air si doux, la fleur si embaumée.... -Ensemble, nous verrons -se lever l’aurore; ensemble, nous verrons le -jour finir, et ta main dans ma main, mon cœur -sur ton cœur, nous n’aurons qu’une vie pour -deux âmes?</p></blockquote> - -<p>Is it that these glowing words recall -to Abelard what she has utterly forgotten, -and what she was too tender and disinterested -a spirit even to remember? -He cannot rise to the height of her -great argument. “Fuyez, que je ne -vous revoie jamais,” he replies. “Votre -présence est un supplice, laissez moi!” -Her answer reveals the secret of her -whole nature:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>En vérité, je ne vous comprends pas. Vous -êtes malheureux, opprimé, abandonné, et -vous repoussez le seul être au monde qui vous -aime et qui vous reste.</p></blockquote> - -<p>But it is all in vain. She still fails to -understand him, and, with the faith and -humility of all true love, she asks if she -has offended him:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Non, je ne suis pas offensé, remettez-vous, -je vous remercie. Héloïse, vous êtes bonne -et dévouée, je suis profondement touché de -vos soins. Vous allez retourner à votre monastère. -Vous savez combien cette maison a -besoin de votre présence; ne m’oubliez pas, -priez pour moi, vous et vos religieuses.</p></blockquote> - -<p>Growing still colder, his last words -are, “Adieu, Madame, je me recommande -à vos prières.” She kisses his -hand, and exclaims, “Et qui priera -pour moi?”</p> - -<p>The Fifth Act, entitled “La Mort,” -is passed in the Convent of Cluny, -where Abelard is a sort of ecclesiastical -prisoner under the supervision of Saint -Bernard. His one sole desire is to -make a pilgrimage to Rome, to explain -his doctrines to the Pope, and to get -the ban of heresy removed from his -teaching. But he is broken in health, -and troubled in brain. His mind -wanders. In sleep he murmurs the -name of Eloisa. His sole consolation -is the faithful attachment of a former<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span> -pupil, who brings him ever and anon -news of her who is living and praying -at Paracleta. At last he expires; and -the drama closes with the tolling of the -convent bell.</p> - -<p>I have given, I fear, but an inadequate -idea of the merits of the play; -for its chief value is in the full and -varied picture it presents of the life -and manners of the time. It is almost -needless to say that it is not a stage but -a closet drama, and it has the necessary -defect of every such composition; it is -a little wearisome. But no form, and -no treatment, could blunt the interest -that must ever cling to the pathetic -story of Abelard and Eloisa; and I -should be surprised to hear that any -reader could close the book without -feeling that it is suffused with the <i lang="la">lachrymæ -rerum</i> that unfailingly touch the -human heart.</p> - -<p>For the rest, I do not know that anyone -could treat the story of the unhappy -lovers of the Paraclete, imaginatively, -in such a way as to disarm criticism. I -do not refer to any technical difficulty, -arising out of the central catastrophe in -Abelard’s life. To the true imaginative -artist, that would mean as little as it -meant to Eloisa. Indeed, it would assist -him to obtain compassion for Abelard, -just as it made Eloisa love him only all -the more. It is the something beyond -compassion of which Abelard stands -in need, that would baffle the most skilful -artistic handling. He would necessarily -have to be the hero, and, unfortunately, -he is not heroic. Were it not -that such a woman as Eloisa loved him, -I should be inclined to say that he was -hateful. I doubt if there ever lived the -man altogether worthy of such a love as -hers; yet one would be sorry to think -that hundreds of men do not exist more -worthy of it than he was. One forgives -him much for her sake; yet it is her -perfection that makes him look the -more imperfect. The contrast between -her simplicity and his complexity, between -her single-minded devotion to -him and his many-sided calculations of -what would be best for himself, ends by -making him odious; and one is compelled -to acknowledge the truth of -that bitter saying of Rousseau, “Tout -homme réflechi est méchant.”</p> - -<p>It is to no man-of-letters, recent or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span> -remote, neither to Bussy-Rabutin nor -to Colardeau, neither to Pope nor to De -Rémusat, but to the famous Correspondence -of the pathetic pair, that we must -turn if we are to understand either their -character or their story. The first letter -is written by Abelard, not to Eloisa, -but to “a Friend,” and relates the -leading incidents of his life. Nowhere, -it has often been remarked, does a man -so thoroughly, because so unconsciously, -betray the secret of his disposition as in -his letters. <i lang="fr">Raconter mon histoire</i> is, to -this day, a favorite occupation with -Frenchmen; and Abelard is garrulous -about his own merits, his own grief, his -own successes. He speaks contemptuously -of William of Champeaux, and -with just as little respect of Anselm of -Laon. It was, however, customary in -the Middle Ages for controversialists to -treat each other with scant courtesy; -the flattering consideration which people -who sneer at each other in private nowadays -exhibit towards each other in -public not having yet come into fashion. -It is when Abelard narrates how he -made the acquaintance of Eloisa that -we get the full measure of his fundamentally -coarse and selfish nature. -Fancy a man writing of a woman who -had loved him, and loved him as Eloisa -loved Abelard, that she was <i lang="la">per faciem -non infima</i>, or, as we should say in English, -“not bad-looking”! Fancy his -being able to remember, let alone to describe -without intolerable shame, that, -having heard of her accomplishments, -he deliberately planned to win her affections, -adding that he felt sure this -would be easy, because “tanti quippe -tunc nominis eram, et juventutis et -formæ gratia præeminebam, ut quamcunque -feminarum nostro dignarer amore -nullam vererer repulsam,” that he was -so celebrated, so young, and so good-looking, -that he had no fear of being -repulsed by any woman whom he honored -with his love! The repugnance inspired -by such language would be great, -even if he had afterwards appreciated -the prize he had begun by coveting so -basely. It is not easy to forgive Saint -Augustine for his conduct towards the -mother of Deodatus. But he, at least, -describes the passions of his youth with -sincere humility and profound remorse; -whilst Abelard recalls without a pang<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span> -the colloquies and correspondence he -planned in order to influence Eloisa. -In the same spirit he narrates the tender, -passionate passages that ensued. He is -equally ignoble when Fulbert discovers -their attachment. He excuses himself -by reminding her uncle “quanta ruina -summos quoque viros ab ipso statim -humani generis exordio mulieres dejecerint,” -how many of the greatest men, -from the beginning of time, have been -ruined by the seductions of women. By -way of compensation, he tells us that he -offered to marry Eloisa on condition -that their union should be kept secret, -<i lang="la">ne famæ detrimentum caperem</i>, lest, forsooth, -his fame should suffer detriment. -If, instead of hiring a couple of bravos -Fulbert had taken him by the heels and -flung him into the Seine, one’s sense of -justice would have been better satisfied.</p> - -<p>Turn we a moment from the composed -reminiscences of this circumspect dialectician, -to the woman <i lang="la">per faciem non -infima</i>, whose heart he had broken and -whose life he had ruined. In obedience -to his wish she had taken the veil, and -writes to him from the Convent of the -Paraclete, made over to her by him, and -of which she was now the Lady Abbess. -She has read his letter “To a friend,” -of which she says, with unconscious -irony, that though it was composed to -soothe that friend’s sorrows, it is full of -the sorrows of the writer himself. She -finds this the most natural thing in the -world; and all she asks is that to her, -too, he will write, and that he will instruct -her, who gave herself entirely to -him, how to direct those who have given -themselves entirely to God. She reminds -him, not reproachfully, but in -order to convince him that she has need -of him still, that at a word from him she -had completed her own ruin, and that, -though he was the only object of her -love, she had promptly taken the veil -at his bidding, “ut te tam corporis mei -quam animi unicum possessorum ostenderem,” -in order to show that she belonged -to him, and to him alone, body, -heart, and soul. “God is my witness,” -she goes on, “that in loving you I loved -yourself only, not anything you could -give or bring me.” Then, going to the -utmost limit and horizon of feminine love -and self-sacrifice, she adds:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span> “Et si -uxoris nomen sanctius ac validus videtur, -dulcius mihi semper extitit amicæ vocabulum; -aut, si non indigneris, concubinæ -vel scorti; ut, quo me videlicet -pro te amplius humiliarem, ampliorem -apud te consequerer gratiam, et sic etiam -excellentiæ tuæ gloriam minus læderem.” -How completely Pope has falsified this -sentiment in his famous paraphrase! -His Epistle of <cite>Eloisa to Abelard</cite> is, no -doubt, an admirable composition; but -it is unfair to Eloisa, since its main note -is passion, not self-sacrifice, and self-sacrifice -was the beginning, middle, and -end of her love for Abelard. Once only -she reproaches him. He had made her -take the religious habit before assuming -it himself. Why? Did he doubt her? -She is overwhelmed with grief at the -thought; for does he not know that she -would have gladly either preceded or -followed him into the jaws of hell? -Nay, she must perforce have done so, -for her heart was not hers, but his. -Why, then, does he not write and console -her? Was it concupiscence, rather -than affection, that made them one? -For her part, she has no difficulty in -answering the question. “Dum tecum -carnali fruerer voluptate, utrum id -amore vel libidine agerem incertum pluribus -habebatur.” Can they, she asks, -be in any doubt now? “Nunc enim -finis indicat quo id inchoaverrim principio.” -The end surely shows by what -motive she was impelled at the beginning. -Everything she has given up—himself, -the world, pleasure, and freedom; reserving -to herself nothing but the luxury -of still executing his will. Of a truth, -it was so; and reading this extraordinary -correspondence, anyone who is curious -on the subject may discover for himself -the eternal distinction between</p> - -<p class="center"> -Short-memoried lust and long-remembering love.<br /> -</p> - -<p>With an utter unconsciousness of his -own baseness, Abelard recalls the arguments -employed by Eloisa to dissuade -him from the marriage insisted on by -him solely from dread of the anger of -Fulbert and the reproaches of the world. -She invoked, he tells us, the name of -every writer, Pagan and Christian, in -whose pages are portrayed the drawbacks -and disadvantages domestic life -presents to a man of genius and ambition. -Cicero, Theophrastus, St. Paul,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span> -St. Jerome, all are pressed into the service -to prove that a man cannot attend -both to a wife and to philosophy. -“Where is he,” she asks, “that, wishing -to dedicate himself to meditations -upon the Scriptures or upon philosophy, -can put up with the cries of the nursery, -the songs of the nurse that lulls a babe -to sleep, the perpetual coming and going -of domestics?” Rich men can sometimes -avoid these interruptions and inconveniences; -but philosophers are never -rich, and she cites Seneca to convince him -that she would be a chain round his neck, -a tether to his feet. The title of lover -would be more honorable and more safe -for him; and as for her, she cares not -what she is called, so long as he loves her. -Her sole ambition is to retain his affection -by tenderness, and not by worldly -ties. Finding him unconvinced—for -Abelard well knew that such arguments -would have no weight with Fulbert—she -declared, with sobs and tears, that it was -the one step to be taken if they wanted -to destroy their happiness and to prepare -for themselves a sorrow as profound -and lasting as their love. After recalling -this outburst of tender desperation, -he observes, with the fine tranquillity -of a truly critical spirit, that Eloisa thereby -demonstrated, as the whole world -has since acknowledged, that she was -endowed with the gift of prophecy!</p> - -<p>In order to understand and appreciate -what some persons will perhaps consider -the perverse and even unfeminine -expostulations of Eloisa, it must be -remembered that, in the twelfth century, -marriage was supposed to disqualify a -man for a career of distinction. The -celibacy of the clergy, for which Hildebrand -had battled so unremittingly, was -now definitively established, and all -who aspired to employment in or about -the precincts of the Church had to sanction, -by their practice, the slur thus -passed upon women. When Abelard -first met Eloisa he was not an ecclesiastic. -But he was saturated with ecclesiastic -ideas; and if he was to pursue his -study and exposition of Theology, he -could do so only under episcopal protection, -which would never have entrusted -the defence of spiritual truths to one -who had openly contracted a carnal -union. It is easy to perceive what immense -value Abelard attached to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span> -recognition of his powers, and to the -establishment of his fame; nor is there -any difficulty in surmising that he often -expatiated to Eloisa on a theme so interesting -to them both. It has been -said—</p> - -<p class="center"> -Man dreams of fame, but woman wakes to love.<br /> -</p> - -<p>But, waking or dreaming, Eloisa thought -only of Abelard’s glory, Abelard’s advancement. -Her secret, unacknowleged -love was to feed his fame, as the -hidden root and unnoticed tendrils -feed the swelling trunk, impelling it -into blossom and leaf and fruit. Well -might Mr. Cousin declare, when a discussion -was once raised as to who is the -greatest woman that ever lived, that -Eloisa towers above all competitors. -But for the self-obliterating tenderness -of her heart, the self-asserting strength -of Abelard’s intellect would long since -have been forgotten. Fancy a man -worrying himself to death in order to -establish that he is not heterodox in his -views concerning the reality of Universals, -while such a woman offers him, in -her own particular person, the sum and -abstract of all that is worth having in -the world!</p> - -<p>Yet, in some sort, Abelard expiated -his faults. I fail to see in him the passionate -champion of free thought, which -De Rémusat and others sometimes appear -disposed to represent him, or it -would be more easy to extend to him -the indulgence which, for that reason, -has to be yielded to a tortuous egotist -like Voltaire, or to a cold-hearted sentimentalist -like Rousseau. As far as I -can see, he entertained certain metaphysical -opinions, which, whether sound -or otherwise, are not of the smallest -practical importance, and upon which the -dignity and happiness of mankind in no -degree turn. Accused of heresy, he was -condemned; and the condemnation was -peculiarly wounding to his vanity. But -he made his peace with the Church, and -in one of the latest of his letters to -Eloisa is particularly anxious to convince -her that he has done so. No -doubt it was not easy to battle with the -strongly-organized Theology of the -times; but if anyone should ask what -Abelard was to do when accused of -heresy, the answer might be that of the -mother of Horatius, who, when asked,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span> -“Que voulez vous qu’il fasse contre -trois?” replied: “Qu’il mourût!” -Eloisa had died a thousand times over -for his sake. Could he not die once for -his precious Universals and his tenets -on the Trinity, if he really thought them -true, and so very important!</p> - -<p>No; the only hold he has upon our -indulgence is that time and suffering at -length awakened in his heart a tardy tenderness -for Eloisa, and inspired him with -something like an appreciation of her -unrivalled goodness. He handed over -to her his refuge of the Paraclete; and -when she wrote to him for comfort, for -counsel, for spiritual explanations, he -did not withhold them. He could not -be so blind, or so unmindful of the past, -as not to read between the lines, and -not to perceive that under the exposition -of the difficulties she was experiencing -in directing the community of which -she had become the head, there still palpitated -the recollection of the earliest -instruction she had received at his hands. -Then he expounded Ovid. Now he -comments on the Scriptures. But the -master was the same, and the same the -pupil; and over and over again the -Abbess of the Paraclete recalls the niece -of Fulbert. We feel that she almost<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span> -invents doubts, that she multiplies scruples, -and that she entangles herself in -perplexities, in order that he may solve -them. In a word, she is as unchangeably -in love with him as ever. He is -measured and circumspect in his replies; -but a certain vein of spiritual tenderness -underlies them, and we feel that his -nature has grown nobler, and his heart -is, at last, less pre-occupied with self. -Perhaps he had discerned now, when it -was too late, the value of a woman’s -love, and the worthlessness of worldly -notoriety. Before he died, he begged -that his body might be carried to the -Paraclete. Thither, accordingly, it was -secretly transported and lovingly interred -by her who, as the Chronicle of -Tours says, “<i lang="fr">était veritablement son amie</i>.”</p> - -<p>For twenty years more, Eloisa lived -on, a model of sanctity and wisdom. -Even Villon, in one of his ballads, -speaks of her as “la très sage Heloïse.” -When she died, her sole request was -that she might be laid by the side of -Abelard. Her injunction was obeyed; -and as her body was being lowered into -the grave, that of Abelard was for an -instant reanimated, so tradition affirms, -and he opened his arms to receive her.—<cite>National -Review.</cite></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span></p> - - - - -<h2><a name="THE_UNITY_OF_THE_EMPIRE" id="THE_UNITY_OF_THE_EMPIRE">THE UNITY OF THE EMPIRE.</a><br /> - -<small>BY THE MARQUIS OF LORNE.</small></h2> - - -<p>Lord Beaconsfield called the English -an enthusiastic people, and there is -some danger that we may hastily infer -that if our fit of enthusiasm for new -schemes of Imperial Federation be not -at once caught up by the colonies, a permanent -union with them is impossible. -It must be “either a closer union or disintegration,” -say some. But let us not -be too hasty in assuming that sudden -developments are necessary.</p> - -<p>If Mr. Goschen will allow us to say so, -“after all” it is no bad thing that the -Federation League should have been -formed, although it may produce just -now more “fads” than federation. The -formation of the Society shows that -men’s minds are alive to the value of the -colonies. It is to be hoped that there will -be less said of drawing “the bonds between -us and our children closer,” and -more of confirming their position where -satisfactory, and of securing their commercial -aims. The position of a listening -and helpful friend should be ours, -rather than that of a dictatorial parent. -Where colonists have spoken of federation, -they have often meant reciprocity -in trade. Where Englishmen have -spoken of it, they have often meant only -colonial contribution to common defence. -Our long-established trade has -taught us that defence means defence of -trade-interests, wherever they lead. Our -sons’ minds have been more set on creating -industries at home, and they have -hardly begun to think of wars which -come from opening new markets. -Although the different lines of thought -lead to the same conclusion, namely,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span> -organised union for common interests, -we may be somewhat premature in laying -down plans for Imperial co-operation. -They who have as yet spoken of -these plans are, for the most part, -British politicians. It is, however, significant -that the Prime Minister of Canada -was present at a meeting of the “Imperial -Federation League,” and gave a -general promise of Canadian aid in any -“wars of defence.” It remains to be -seen how far Canada would be willing -to impose a permanent charge on her -Treasury for other than home defence. -As yet she has had too much to do in -developing public works to attain to -more than the maintenance, in a poorly -organised and badly officered condition, -of a force of about 20,000, out of a -nominal roll of 40,000 militia, whose -fine physique and great individual intelligence -make them worth a great deal -more than their small numbers imply. -She has shown that she looks to England -to do armed marine duty for her, -and she is not desirous to garrison her -one important fortress near her Atlantic -coaling stations—namely, Halifax. But -she is showing her knowledge of her inadequate -military condition, and is training -officers and is voting larger sums for -the annual drilling of the militia. Her -population, expanding over vast surfaces, -is being strengthened both for civil and -military cohesion by a thorough railway -system; but she will need all the consciousness -her best men have, that defence -means preparation and organisation, -if she wishes to inspire respect for -her ever-increasing and ever more vulnerable -possessions. One of her statesmen, -formerly her High Commissioner -to England, has suggested that a tonnage -duty, levied on all ships sailing -under the British flag, be devoted to -fortification of coaling stations. It is to -be feared that the shipowning provinces -of the Dominion would object to this -excellent proposal, although it might -meet with the approval of those who -are less directly interested in marine -property, and would be an indirect tax -which might commend itself to inland -provinces and to some of the Australian -colonies.</p> - -<p>If Canada, then, has but recently -shown striking aptitude to realise the -conditions necessary for adequate de<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span>fence, -how does it stand with Australia -and the Cape? The Cape Government’s -past attitude may be described in few -words: “Be always taking what you -can, and seeking how you can get more; -our contribution towards necessary expenses -being one corps of Rangers.” -With Australia it is different. She has -shown a natural desire to prevent her -neighborhood from being garrisoned by -convicts or the forces of warlike States, -and she has been quite ready to pay handsomely -for any English assistance she -requires. Some of her colonies have -exhibited a most spirited desire to share -the expenses of maritime as well as land -defence, and have even offered their vessels -for offensive operations. The excitement -attending the outbreak of war, -with the sympathy for the mother-country, -may be depended on to produce -offers of assistance whenever England -needs them. It is the permanent contribution -for a common policy in the -piping times of peace which presents -more difficulty. Her division into several -colonies, often showing a good deal -of jealousy of one another, has prevented -any combined scheme of national -defence; but she, like Canada, -may be relied upon to slowly improve -her opportunities. The spirit is willing, -but the stress is weak. She has not -known the pinch of danger. Until a -Customs Union exists throughout her -continent, and railways bind her together, -she will not be able to do justice to -the patriotism so conspicuous among -her people, or take the place due to herself -in the Imperial union of States.</p> - -<p>There is always a minority among all -English-speaking peoples who deem -military expenditure so much waste, a -mere thing of vanity, of fuss and feathers. -There is in the colonies a certain minority -who, as with us, deem patriotism to -mean anxiety for the welfare of those -only who may for the time have identical -ideas as to trade, or who may reside -within easy distance of certain centres, -geographical or manufacturing. Their -ideas are not to be left out of account, -for they embody one of the most powerful -of human sentiments—namely, the -imagination (for it is not the reality) of -immediate interest. It is important to -show such parties that anything proposed -to be done is devised not only for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span> -Australian, or Canadian, or British purposes, -but for mutual and general good. -We adopt free trade because we think it -suits us. The colonies have no direct -taxes, and have a high revenue tariff -because they think such arrangements -suit them. It does not follow that we -need not care for them because they are -not free traders. In giving us more -favored treatment than they give to foreigners, -and in taking far more of our -goods than they take of foreign goods, -they yield to us more than we yield to -them, for we treat them and foreigners -equally. Our gain from their affections -and trade connection far outweighs the -cost of the navy we keep to protect the -ships which carry the commerce. But -in asking them to look to their own defence -we exercise a legitimate moral influence, -which is not for British interests -only, but for theirs also. We must not -ask too much or more than their legislatures -will freely sanction. There has -been no sign as yet that Colonial Parliaments -desire to shirk the legitimate expenses -of common defence. They have -much to do with their money, but will -listen to any reasonable representation -for the general weal. It is probable -that maritime war, except as regards -shore-torpedoes, can be best and most -cheaply undertaken by the British Navy, -while it may be reasonable to ask the -colony requiring the service of the ships -for any special duty affecting their coasts -to contribute to the expense of maintenance -during the time they are so engaged. -War is becoming a common danger -for all parts of the empire. It is so -in a greater degree, the more the colonies -develop, and possess, or are connected -with, great areas around the original -settlements. Any hostile force would in -the Pacific attack at once the Australasian -cities and the valuable coaling -stations of Vancouver, thus injuring at -once Australia and Canada. It is the -same in case of war with Russia. These -colonies have, therefore, a right to have -their wishes consulted, to be informed -of all that is passing that may lead to -war, and in case of the non-observance -of that consideration which should be -shown by the Imperial Executive, would -acquire a right to refuse supplies and -declare neutrality. The only way to reduce -the danger of temptation to such<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span> -action is to admit them in some form -into Imperial Councils. It should not -be possible that a Secretary of State can -settle payment to America for alleged -outrages by New England fishermen, -without consulting Canada and Newfoundland, -and then expect these colonies -to pay the damage assessed without -their knowledge. It should not be -possible for Downing Street to negotiate -with France about the abrogation of -her fishing rights in Newfoundland, without -informing Canada of what is contemplated. -It should not be possible -for British Ministers to propose that -France be given islands in the Pacific in -lieu of rights in Newfoundland, without -consulting Australia. If we take powers -of attorney, it should be by express commission.</p> - -<p>In commercial matters we have ceased -to assume the power of attorney. It is -a mark of the great change which has -been wrought by the growth of our so-called -dependencies that Lord Grey, -who twenty years ago specially claimed -for the mother-country the right of directing -the fiscal policy of the colonies, -should be the first to propose the immediate -adoption of the suggestion, -made at the Colonial Institute in 1884, -to have a “council of envoys.” The -Board of Advice he proposes is nothing -else. It would be a Committee of Privy -Council holding regular meetings, and -able to advise, check, and direct the -Secretary of State. It would advise the -consummation of different commercial -bargains made for the advantage of different -parts of the Empire with foreign -nations. Made under the auspices of -England, these would always give to -England the most favored nation treatment. -But they would not be made on -England’s basis of free trade, and hence -the dislike of some among us to the proposal. -The council or board would -further agree how best to defend the interests -created by such treaties. It cannot -be too strongly stated that the -making of such separate treaties is no -new thing. Since the appointment by -Canada of a High Commissioner to represent -her in England, she has had the -fullest latitude given to her to send her -envoy to make separate bargains with -Spain and France, the English ambassador -acting as introducer and coadjutor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span> -in the negotiations undertaken by the -Canadian. This was a great and new -departure at the time, but it marked a -recognition by England of actual facts, -which will grow clearer and clearer to -the eyes of all men every year. The -situation of our Empire is an entirely -new one. Nothing like it has ever existed -since the world began. There is no -precedent for it. Our union with our -sons must be strengthened, not by tying -them to our commercial programme, but -by helping them to realise that which -they desire to adopt. The partners in -the Imperial firm must pursue each his -own line to benefit himself, and so raise -the reputation of the partnership as being -composed of men of wealth and enterprise. -In affairs affecting the standing -and credit of the whole number, or of -several, they may meet the senior in -consultation, and, as each represents -important property, a new policy is not -likely to be adopted lightly, nor will any -project calculated to enhance profits lack -good backing. The statesmen in Canada, -who have been in office since this -new departure has been fully inaugurated, -are perfectly satisfied with the position -of their country in this most important -of all matters. The leader of the -Opposition, before he knew of this freedom -given to the Canadian envoy, spoke -of his countrymen as “the subjects of -subjects,” for that was indeed the position -in which the old British policy placed -them, and it was one which could not -survive an increase in their own power. -“We want,” said Sir John MacDonald -last month at Montreal—“we want no -independence in this country, except -the independence that we have at this -moment. What country in the world is -more independent than we are? We -have perfect independence; we have a -Sovereign who allows us to do as we -please. We have an Imperial Government -that casts on ourselves the responsibilities -as well as the privileges of self-government. -We may govern ourselves -as we please; we may misgovern ourselves -as we please. We put a tax on -the industries of our fellow subjects in -England, Ireland, and Scotland. If we -are attacked, if our shores are assailed, -the mighty powers of England on land -and sea are used in our defence.” And -under this so-called “protection” gov<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span>ernment -the tariff against English goods -is one-half less than that imposed against -us by the Americans; and the merchandise -bought from us is immense in -quantity, Australia taking even more -proportionately than does Canada. Australia, -probably owing to the want of -a common tariff, has not as yet shown a -wish to have her representatives put on -the same footing as that secured, by -Canada’s desire, to her envoy. The -Sydney Convention, indeed, rather gave -the Agents General to understand that -they were not sent in any way as quasi-ambassadors. -This alone shows the unreadiness -to undertake common action -and to push common interests, for there -is no strong central government having -any definite will and policy which it is -necessary to have explained and illustrated -and pushed by personal conference -and contact with the Home authority in -Downing Street. I fear that the Cobden -Club have more tribulation in store, -for it is highly probable that all Australia -will have a common high revenue tariff. -Then will come, as has already come -in British North America, the desire to -push a national commercial policy in -alliance with England.</p> - -<p>The work, then, of any friends of -Imperial Union should be first to ascertain -the desires of the colonists. If any -special scheme be thought good here, it -should be submitted to the colonial governments -by the Association before it is -pressed on the public for acceptance. -We can form, as it has been suggested, -a vigilance committee in Parliament at -home to take cognisance of anything -affecting the colonies, and this we can -do without consulting anybody but the -men who may desire to serve. But it is -difficult to believe that any Australian or -other administration can have been consulted -and can have given a favorable -reply to such proposals as the following, -namely:—1. The proportional representation -in one unwieldy Parliament of the -colonies. The House of Commons has -too much to do now, and hardly attends -to Indian affairs. It is not to be imagined -that colonial M.P.’s would like to -be constantly out-voted by a British majority, -nor is it conceivable that, when -the colonial population is larger than -ours, England would submit to be out-voted -by the colonies. Mere difficulties<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span> -of personal attendance would make the -scheme hard of execution, and its unpopularity -makes it impossible.</p> - -<p>2. Nomination to the House of Lords -of prominent politicians from distant -parts of the Empire. It may be sufficient -to ask what politician, having good -influence in his native Parliament, would -leave it to sit in a House which has little -weight even in England, and less in -deciding Imperial issues? And if any -man chose a seat in the House of Peers -in preference to a place in his own -Parliament, how could he be considered -a representative of the Government in -power in his own country? If he be -not that, he would have no right to -speak in the name of his own country, -nor could his vote bind her action. If -not a prominent man, his acceptance of -such a nomination would only excite -ridicule. Who would be a Viscount -Wagga-Wagga or Marquis of Massa Wippi? -A man elected to sit in the present -House of Lords would only be one -voter in an assembly of several hundred, -and would have no special weight.</p> - -<p>3. Conference of Trades Unions. -This would be useful as indicating where -the unemployed or well-provided emigrants -had best direct their steps. It -may be safely assumed that the workmen -of towns where high wages may be had -would not invite others to come and -thus depress the standard of the remuneration -earned by labor.</p> - -<p>4. A council like that of the German -“Reich.” This would be more easily -accepted than the sending of a contingent -to either House of Parliament, but -it has not been discussed.</p> - -<p>Other suggestions might be mentioned -which all partake too much of the fault -of looking at Federation as a means of -making more powerful the British vote -in a general union, and in not being endorsed -by colonial voices. We should -make vocal their desires rather than -press upon them our own. The idea -of a Board of Advice, composed of -their representatives, has the merit of -giving them opportunity of speech and -of knowledge. It would not “draw -closer the bonds” so much as prevent -any strain on those which exist. Do -not let us do anything “behind the -backs” of those whom our action in -their behalf may touch, however indirect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span>ly. -Let no Minister in a colonial -Parliament be able to say, “We are -threatened with this or that in consequence -of Imperial action; but it was -not until the danger had been incurred -that we knew there was any likelihood -that it would arise.” We need have no -misgiving that the colonies would be -unreasonable in their fears, or averse to -incur the danger if fully informed, any -more than we apprehend from an English -House of Commons repudiation -of the responsibility of the Executive -charged with the responsibility of war or -peace. But the danger of repudiation -becomes less, the more those affected by -the determination are taken into confidence. -The revival in some form of a -Committee of the Privy Council, to advise -“on trade and the plantations,” -would be the most certain method of -giving for the present knowledge and -voice to the combined colonial representatives. -If the colonial Governments -do not care for this, the “question falls” -for the time, and we may patiently -await the demand, taking care in the -meantime to fully inform each individual -representative of our rising “auxiliary -kingdoms” of what is passing, and granting -them free access to all persons and -papers they desire to see, if these may -be shown to Parliament. It has been -objected that delay would be caused by -any council. If the council be small, -this is not likely, because telegraphic -communication makes Australia as near -to the Colonial Office as is Victoria -Street. The time, if there be any delay, -may be well spent in avoiding future -misunderstanding. There is hardly any -conjuncture where a Secretary of State -must act with lightning rapidity in colonial -affairs; but, if the necessity arose, -the British Government must, as they do -now, take the responsibility. It is also -said against the plan that in most cases -the members of the council whose countries -are not affected by the business -would only sit twirling their thumbs. -This objection applies to all boards, -councils, and Parliaments, and is an -argument for autocracy. It is also alleged -that the Indian Council Board is -an analogy, and has been proved a nuisance. -But the Indian councillors represent -only their own opinions, and these -often formed on past experience, where<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span>as -the men on the Privy Council Board -of Advice would represent those whose -voices would be potent factors in deciding -questions submitted, because they -are the mouthpieces of living nations -and of living policy. A minute drawn -up by Australia, dissenting from a given -policy, would not be looked at so lightly -as is a minute by an Indian councillor -who may object to an addition to a salt -tax. We should therefore consult with -the colonial cabinets, and ask them if -they do not think that we can obtain, by -regular and recognised conference with -their envoys, more intimate knowledge -of the desires of their people; further -opportunity for them to bring their wishes -directly to the notice of England and -of brother colonists; a better chance -for them to combine to further the views -of one of their number, or to declare -against any impracticable project; less -danger that any imprudent course shall -be entered on by any one colony without -consultation with others and with -Britain; a time of discussion for any -schemes for joint defence—in short, less<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span> -isolation, and consequently greater -strength for any policy taken up with -forethought. The Secretary of State -would be supported in adopting any -given line by knowing he had the Empire -at his back, or, by finding himself alone, -would know when to advise withdrawal. -But it is a question whether the day for -any such plan is yet come. It is only -yesterday that Canada became a Pacific -Power. It is only to-day that the Australians -are being united by railroads, -and they are still sundered in fiscal -policy. The Cape has not yet become -possessed of a people sufficiently powerful -to make themselves felt. In any -case let the colonies speak out, and we -can wait, for “all’s well” at present with -the loyal sentiments of our scattered -brethren.</p> - -<p>During this last fortnight they have -again proved that they are heart and -hand with us in time of trouble. Let -us, if they desire it, make their voices -be heard in council. They have told us -that their cannon shall speak for us in -the field.—<cite>Nineteenth Century.</cite></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span></p> - - - - -<h2><a name="ODD_QUARTERS" id="ODD_QUARTERS">ODD QUARTERS.</a><br /> - -<small>BY FREDERICK BOYLE.</small></h2> - - -<p>My record of campaigns and outlandish -travel includes in its barest -shape, Borneo, Upper Egypt, Central -America, the Cape, the West Coast of -Africa, the Danubian Principalities, -Afghanistan, India, Turkey, Greece, -Egypt a third time; were I to count -the episodes, it would swell into a geographic -catalogue. In such journeying -I have found many odd billets, a -few of which I purpose to sketch just -as they occur to mind in writing, without -story or connection. But, so far -as may be, I shall avoid those scenes -which have been made familiar to the -public through historic events, and -through the descriptions furnished by -my own “Special” fraternity.</p> - -<p>No eccentricity of fortune surprises -me now, though it brings vastly more -discomfort for the time than in earlier -days; and my recollections grow weaker -proportionately. However strange -one’s quarters, however distressed or -frightened one may be, an abiding consciousness -dwells in the soul that one -has seen and done and gone through -the same experience already. The power -of observation is not dulled, nor the -sense of fun, still less that of alarm; -but the circumstances do not seem -worth remembering particularly. If one -reflects more, one feels less. After his -first visit to the Antipodes, so to speak, -a boy has stories inexhaustible of anecdote, -remark, and adventure; but -from each succeeding journey he brings -back shorter and drier reports, until a -trip to the moon would seem hardly -worth telling at length: after stating -the facts, he has done. Last week I -entertained a confrère just returned -from El Teb and Tamasi; we have -served together in divers parts, and the -public, I understand, has been interested -in our stories; but all through the -evening not fifty words were exchanged -touching on matters personal in his late<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span> -vicissitudes. It seems less and less worth -while to dwell upon impressions and to -carry them away, the more impressions -one gathers. This is not the common -belief. We read of men in novels, who -having been everywhere and done everything, -are always ready with a tale of -adventure that thrills the heroine. I -will venture to say that such a personage -has not been far into terra incognita, -nor has served in many wars, -unless, of course, he is a professional -talker.</p> - -<p>Thus it happens that a man’s earliest -memories of travel are the strongest, -though they be insignificant compared -with others he might have collected on -the same ground at a later date. I have -a hundred cabinet pictures of Egypt as I -knew it, an idle boy, but not one worth -sketching from the late campaign. That -was a very big business;—one recorded -the facts, stored them for use, and forgot -the incidents. It is only by an effort -that I recall scenes therein quite -otherwise impressive than that unforgotten -experience of Esné by night, which -struck me twenty-one years ago, and -still remains fresh of color. At that -time the banished sisterhood of Almeh, -Ghawazee, dancing and singing women, -still dwelt at the spot assigned them—or -many did. We had seen a performance -in going up, and had ordered something -more special for our return. An -old negress who kept what one may describe -as the box office, in a vile mud -hut, assured us with conviction that the -best dancer and the loveliest woman in -those parts would attend at nightfall. A -respectable Arab addressed us returning -to the dabeah, and asked permission to -go with our party. In the evening he -followed to a hut, somewhat larger but -not less vile than the box office. The -only lights were set on the mud floor, -one by each of the musicians, who -squatted there smoking <i>hasheesh</i> to -nerve them for special exertions. In a -line across the back, their faces hardly -to be distinguished, sat the Ghawazee, -arrayed in silks and muslins of the brightest -hue, the coins that decked their -heads twinkling and faintly jingling -as they moved restlessly. The police-officer -sat beside us, on one of our -chairs, in snowy uniform and gold belt. -Everybody smoked, including specially<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span> -the candles, and the spiral cloud from -every mouth had a curious effect so long -as it was visible.</p> - -<p>The band struck up, with voice and -instrument—a metallic hum, a nasal -scream, a twang of strings so loose that -they seemed to take their note from -the wood itself, a dull beat of tomtoms. -Presently a Ghawazee arose. You have -all read descriptions of the performance, -but it must be seen in its natural habitat, -as here, to keep any sort of interest. I -have never beheld it, that I recollect, in -the pitiless glow of gas, when, no doubt, -it is grotesque. But in that dim and -ruddy twilight, the long robes and full -trousers of the Ghawazee, quivering to -the tremulous movement of her limbs, -have sudden strange effects of sheen and -shadow. The arms out-curved, with small -castanets betwixt the index and the -thumb, the head thrown back, the closed -eyelashes, the white teeth gleaming, have -significance and charm also in that misty -air, though they seem prurient affectation -under strong light. But the entertainment -is monotonous. Before our programme -was half through, we called for -the <i>prima ballerina</i>, and she came forward—a -good-looking woman, helmeted -with coins—put out her small bare foot, -the toes turned up, rounded her arms, -and tinkled her castanets with the air of -a mistress. At the instant our guest -sprang by and seized her, shouting—the -musicians tumbled this way and that—the -candles upset—a woman took fire—the -police-officer bawled—and we were -a struggling mass in the doorway! The -dragoman afterwards explained that this -man’s son had married the dancer, on -an understanding, of course, that she -dropped her profession. He heard that -the box-keeper had tempted her, with -her husband’s consent, to perform for -our benefit, and hence the interruption.</p> - -<p>A series of earthquakes alarmed Nicaragua -in January, 1866, and the municipality -of the capital asked us to explore -Mombacho, an ancient crater from which -the disturbance was supposed to come. -My companion and I rode out, with -guides, and at nightfall reached Dirioma, -an Indian village. A superb avenue -of organo cactus leads to that secluded -settlement; the trunks, ten feet high, -looked like fluted pillars of marble -in the pale glow of starlight. Dirioma<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span> -is much the same now, probably, as -the Conquistadores found it, a marvel -of color, softness, and grace of form. -Each dwelling, framed of bamboos and -sticks, like a bird-cage, stands in its -own compound; the road runs straight -and broad and smooth in front; palms -droop over the cactus hedge, black -against the night sky as ostrich plumes, -and behind them lies a dusky mass of -foliage, gleaming red in the glow of the -hearth. All day and all night the place -is still, for Indian children, if they play, -are silent.</p> - -<p>Our billet assigned was such a hut, -hung round with hollow logs used as -beehives; in dismounting we upset one, -but the insects were familiar with disasters -of the sort, and they took it kindly. -We asked about “Carib Stones,” as -usual—all antiquities are called Carib -Stones in Nicaragua—and the guide -led us into another compound, where -a very old man crouched beside an -enormous fire, with three or four Indians -about him. When our inquiries -were explained, with difficulty, the veteran -brightened and began talking like -a machine. Some feathers of the quetzal -bird lay beside him; these he snatched -up, waved, and shook to emphasise his -statements. We could understand very -little of the patois, more than half Indian; -but the naked old man’s shadow -played grotesquely on the lattice wall -behind, the brandished plumes flashed -emerald and sapphire, the elders sat -round like wrinkled effigies in bronze, -their small eyes fixed upon us with never -a wink. The ancient hero did not tell -much—he spoke of the golden temple -which, as everybody knows, is hid somewhere -in the neighboring woods; but -gave no precise information. Afterwards -we learned that this was a lineal descendant -of the old caciques of Dirioma, who -gave four thousand axes of gold—or -whatever the number may have been—to -Gil Gonzalez de Avila. Though -he worked as a slave before the emancipation, -the Indians revere and obey -him to such degree that a Secretary -of State thought worth while to ask -of us what his remarks had been.</p> - -<p>Many odd quarters we knew on the -West Coast, where men and circumstances -have a character all their own. -Quisa recurs to my mind just now;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span> -I could not tell why, for we saw places -as strange under more exciting conditions. -This is the first town, or was, -within the Ashanti realm proper. It -looked almost civilized to us, marching -from the coast—for refinement -is comparative—and decidedly picturesque. -Quisa might be called a town, -its ways streets, its dwellings cottages -of unusual form. A row of fine shade-trees -in the middle of the chief thoroughfare -had earthen benches at their -feet, where the elders sat for council -and gossip. The king’s house stood -at the intersection of the main streets. -It had not the alcove or box in the -outer wall, so conspicuous in the architecture -of Coomassie, but the façade, of -polished stucco, was broken by niches, -and moulded arabesques, two inches in -relief, covered it all over. What they -represented or signified we could not -make out with confidence, so thoroughly -had the style been “conventionalized” -by generations of artists; but -in the original idea they were human -figures probably, engaged in war and -ceremonies of state. The wall was colored -in Venetian red, with a pleasing -gloss upon it, and it stretched twenty -yards or so on either side the doorway. -This was a Moorish arch, of wood, -the same in type as those we are familiar -with at Sydenham, and gaily painted. -Inside and out all was clean and perfect.</p> - -<p>Through this doorway a passage, -smoothly coated with chunam, and tinted -red, opened into the <i lang="fr">cour d’honneur</i>. -On the right hand, just inside the door, -stood a fetich niche, very like an exaggerated -font for holy water. It contained -the usual medley of rubbish—bones and -sticks and teeth and roots and tangles of -string; a lot of eggshells also, pierced -and tied together. Opposite to this -niche was a hollow in the wall, two -steps above the ground, just long enough -and broad enough for a man to lie; the -quarters, doubtless, of a slave who kept -the door. What I have termed the <i lang="fr">cour -d’honneur</i> was a small quadrangle, unroofed, -with alcoves much like boxes at -a theatre on three of its sides. The -middle one, that fronting the entrance, -occupied the full breadth of the wall, -saving a doorway that led through to -the next court; the others were smaller. -These boxes stood on a level, perhaps<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span> -five feet above the floor of the yard. -They had no way in from the back, -but access was gained by steps from -below, and the parapet, of mud and -chunam, was cut away at that point. -Wooden columns and arches, of Moorish -design and color, marked the king’s -box—that in the middle. They had -hangings apparently, for pegs were there, -and I found a silk “cloth” on the -ground.</p> - -<p>It was not difficult, with our experience, -to refill this courtyard with the -pride and pomp and circumstance of -Quisa royalty. There sat the king on -his earthen bench, wrapped in a spotless -robe of cotton, home-spun, and home-dyed -in graceful patterns. His sandals, -with a golden sole and little, solid, -golden figures for ornament, rested on -a patchwork carpet of silk. His -arms were bare, but loaded with bracelets; -some of the costly Aggry bead, -some a bristling string of nuggets unworked. -Arab charms, wrapped in small -leather cases, sewn with gold, encircled -his wrists and elbows and knees, and -they dangled from the arch above. On -the floor at either hand crouched a -page, one holding his pipe, silver-bound, -one his drinking calabash, mounted in -gold and carved. Behind these favorites -squatted the bearer of the toddy jar, -Dutch earthenware, set in silver, and -the drinking calabash, carved and bound -in gold; of the silver-mounted stool -and gun, the silver spittoon, and knives -with silver hafts in a belt of leopard-skin—in -short, the retinue essential to -his majesty’s comfort. Nearest of all -stood the executioner, with his four-handled -sword of office, looking like a -toy-stool of gold with a clumsy blade -thrust through the seat. The royal -councillors sat upon the cross-benches, -and the smaller alcoves were occupied -by wives and slaves, handsome enough, -many of them, their lips full but not -thick, their noses straight, their skins -brown with a shade of gold. A mass -of ornaments, in bullion or filagree, -decked the long wool of these ladies, -combed to all manner of fantastic shapes: -eccentricity has no bounds in dealing -with that stiff and elastic material, -which grows to a surprising length -amongst Ashantis and Fantis. I have -seen it drawn out, kinkles and all,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span> -eighteen inches from the skull, and -thus remain stark on end, until the -lady had time to get it arranged in, -for instance, the exact similitude of a -pine-apple, divided into lozenges, with -a neat curl in the centre of each.</p> - -<p>So the king of Quisa sat to display -his magnificence daily, and to administer -justice. It is the inclination of -us superior beings to imagine that “off -with his head,” is the monotonous -refrain of every judgment pronounced -by negro royalty. The notion is gathered -perhaps rather from burlesques -and comic songs than from inquiry, -and I suspect that shrewd comment -and patient debate were often heard -in that pretty court. The general effect -of it, even empty, astonished us all, from -Sir Garnet to Tommy Atkins. But we -showed our emotion in various ways. I -entered with two young doctors, who -had their billet at the palace. After -going through and surveying it in silence, -one of them hurriedly unpacked -a trunk, produced his everlasting banjo, -and sang an air of the day: “You -know it all depends upon the way in -which it’s done!” This exercise finished, -he was equal to discussion.</p> - -<p>A natural halting-place, as one may -say, at the end of the first march from -Jellalabad is the castle of a great Ghilzai -chief, whose name I forget. He had been -an active enemy in the late war; but for -reasons unknown the political department -long refused to let us take possession -of this building, which is called -Rosarbad, though it was empty; nor -would they even permit us to encamp in -the fields and groves about it. Accordingly -a very small post was established -on a bleak hillside in the neighborhood, -a spot so stony and barren that pegs -would not hold in the soil. Two nights -I passed there are scored in the blackest -of chalk among my experiences of mere -wretchedness; for a gale was always -blowing and tents were always collapsing: -if one’s own escaped, the yelling and -roaring of other sufferers made life almost -as miserable. As for the horses, -they enjoyed a battle scarcely interrupted, -and the squealing all night, with -the shouting of furious troopers, banished -sleep. A detachment which had three -weeks’ duty at that outpost lost a quarter -of its strength by invaliding, the re<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span>sult -of sheer fatigue. When I add that -a night attack was always probable, and -often threatened, the least fanciful of -readers may conceive that existence at -Boulé camp was not happy.</p> - -<p>It was an aggravation and a mockery -for these unfortunates to see the great -tower of Rosarbad above the cypresses -and planes but a thousand yards away, to -know that it was confiscated by the laws -of war, and that no human being dwelt -in those comfortable quarters. The -state of things became unbearable at -last, the Politicals were overruled, and -when I came down country from Gandamuck -I found the castle occupied. It -was late in the month of April. Quitting -the barren, rocky highway, we rode -across a bridge, rough but neat, through -a screen of trees, and found ourselves in -a landscape thoroughly and charmingly -English. The crops were strange, no -doubt, but they looked familiar. The -stalwart peasantry who toiled there had -dark faces and outlandish dress; but, -buried to the waist in green, stooping -above their work, they passed, at a -glance, for English husbandmen. And -the trees that bordered these pleasant -fields, full-leaved, deepshadowed, resembled -our native elm. Even the atmosphere -was English, the still golden haze -of a midsummer evening. We pulled -up, each struck with thoughts not lightly -to be breathed. The foreign landscape, -the parched hills and dusty road -behind, were all shut out. One might -fondly dream for an instant that war -and exile had come to an end, that -these ruddy turrets peeping above the -trees marked the ancient, hospitable -home where we were eagerly expected. -Our orderly looked and stared, and -gazed and muttered—the stupid exclamation -does not signify; it was meant -to suggest wonder and delight and feeling -beyond an honest trooper’s power of -expression.</p> - -<p>Envious fancy had done its utmost -among those poor fellows camped at -Boulé, in picturing the spot they were -forbidden to approach. But it surpassed -anticipation. I am not going to describe -the scene, for I made no sketch, and -some who will read this did, whilst every -one who halted there keeps a recollection -of Rosarbad. Nothing like it did we -see in any part of Afghanistan. Though<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span> -built of mud, its lofty walls, brand new, -had almost the sharpness of granite, and -they were thick enough to stand some -pounding of solid shot. Frosts have -tried them now, doubtless, rains have -channeled them, the battlements are ruinous, -and not one right angle remains; -but it was mighty handsome in our day, -looking like a feudal fortress, with a -gate-tower almost majestic overlooking -a grove of cypresses on the other side the -moat: so dense was the foliage of this -copse that daylight could not pierce it. -A miscellaneous throng of bunniahs -had converted its twilight arcades into -a bazaar, hanging bright cottons from -trunk to trunk, and establishing booths -full of cheap glitter. Sowars and sepoys, -in flowing, picturesque undress, -strolled hand in hand through the chiaroscuro. -Giant Pathans prowled up and -down, all beard and eyes and dirt, gazing -with rapt, vulture-like expression at -the luxury displayed. Sometimes a yell -arose, a sound of scuffling, a rush of -frightened traders and of sepoys to the -rescue; then from the struggling mass a -prisoner was dragged, and perhaps a -groaning comrade was borne to the -gate.</p> - -<p>Within the portcullis and the vaulted -approach lay a garden, actually a garden, -bordered on one side by the durbar -hall, on another by a row of small latticed -chambers. In the hall, which was -raised several feet above the level, stood -an enormous tub, into which a column of -water fell by a shoot. It was forced to -the upper story, and thence descended. -Of all surprises that befell a visitor to -Rosarbad, none equalled this. A soothing -cataract, a shower-bath, and a fish-pond -all in one make a convenience for -the drawing-room hardly known in -Europe. After the first enthusiasm, -however, certain disadvantages betrayed -themselves. The middle of the hall was -a quagmire, and if in the zeal of admiration -one approached too near, the mud -held one fast while the shower wet one -through. But this made part of the day’s -fun. The officers of the little garrison -cherished their odd quarters, and they -applied their leisure to gardening, with -such success that visitors were sometimes -presented with a rose. I need scarcely -say that the name of the castle has no -connection with botany. The Pathan<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span> -seems to be acquainted with five flowers -only—jasmine, rose, chrysanthemum, -iris, and narcissus. Painful to an enthusiast -is the most successful of Oriental -gardens. Though they bear a mass of -flowers so that Peshawur, for instance, -has an air laden with scents, the individual -bloom is mean and the tree pitiful.</p> - -<p>In contrast to the glories of Rosarbad, -I recall a billet on the other side of -Afghanistan. We had been snowed up -in the Kojak pass—a miserable time, and -when a thaw released us I pushed on -with a comrade towards Quetta—a -ride to try one’s good humor; for with -the thaw came rain, which made that -bare desert as slippery as ice—a peculiar -condition dreaded under the name of -‘put.’ We got off the track somehow -beyond Abdallah Karez, and very glad -were we to find an empty village, where -a Baboo go-master was posted to collect -stores of forage and grain. He had -three sepoys to protect him—a guard -much less formidable than a score of -Pathan dogs, left by their masters, I -suppose, which fed upon the carcasses -of camels lying all around. This Baboo -was an ingenious man. The mud huts -had been dismantled perhaps; anyhow, -they were roofless and badly gapped. -In the long frost our go-master had a -bad time; the thermometer below zero -at night, or always close upon it, and -no better protection than a tent for his -southern limbs. Moreover, there was -some chance that the enemy might swoop -down, or he thought so. Superstition -loses its awful power in the extremity of -wretchedness. The Baboo, who was -forbidden to touch a dead insect or even -to look at it, employed sepoys and muleteers, -and anyone he could catch, in -building a fortification of dead camels -all round his store-house; and he lived -therein, shuddering with remorse, but -warm and secure. While the frost lasted -it was mighty comfortable, but the -thaw had reduced that Baboo to sore -distress. His wall was decaying visibly -under conditions which I need not suggest, -and to enter the enclosure needed -more heroism and more cotton wool than -the average mortal is provided with. A -camel’s is a heavy and unwieldy carcass -when frozen hard: a regiment of scavengers -could not have cleared away those -scores of bodies when loosed by the thaw.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span> -The Government stores were protected -after a fashion hitherto thought peculiar -to Chinese warfare, by “stink-pot” torpedos -in effect, and neither friend nor -foe dared approach. I do not know the -end of that story. If it is the traveller’s -privilege to see queer incidents, it is too -often his ill-luck to miss the explanation -and the catastrophe.</p> - -<p>A scene I cherish with especial tenderness -is that passed at Changhi, behind -Singapore. A Malay fishing village lay -beneath our bungalow, upon a broad -and snowy beach. In barbarous regions -of the North men live underground, but -these dwellings were suspended in the -sunny air amongst plumes of cocoanut -and betel; behind them rose the -shadowy jungle. There was no cultivated -land in sight, for the Malay finds -his harvest and his garden in the sea. -The smooth sand below high-water mark -was a parterre of sponges, green and -red, and purple blue, intermixed with -coral. Old-fashioned people in Europe -cherish certain round masses of limestone, -daintily fluted, and put them under -a glass case for ornament. Imagine -their beauty in the spot where nature -places them, every lip and hollow on the -cream-white surface traced out in vividest -pencilling of green, with the seaflowers -of sponge around them.</p> - -<p>But after the first impulse of delight, -one almost comes to overlook this charming -foreground; for beneath the water -lies a tangle and a maze of all things -lovely for shape and color and growth -and motion. Coral takes a hundred -flowery forms, weeds branch like trees -or wave like serpents, sponges are cups -of amethyst and ruby. When waves lie -still, one sees just as clearly into the -depths below as into the air above, and -almost as far, as it seems. The vegetation -is gigantic in its loveliness. There -are coral growths shaped like an Egyptian -lily and as white, but three feet in -diameter, wherein a mermaid might take -her bath. Others break into a thicket, -each twig covered with snowy rosettes -which bear a morsel of green velvet in -their bosoms. Others are great round -hillocks diapered with emerald, with -here and there a bush of scarlet thorn -springing from their sides. Through -and over the garden, long silvery weeds -tremble and quiver in a net. Small fish<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span> -as quick as humming-birds, and almost -as gay, dart to and fro. Water snakes -float past in coils like Indian enamel of -every shade, in red and brown and yellow -and purple. I am grateful that fate allowed -me three weeks of life at Changhi.</p> - -<p>But I have dwelt also, too long, with -those northern people referred to who -burrow in the earth, and with those -southerners, not half long enough, who -inhabit the trees. Not to be forgotten -are our quarters before Plevna, in the -compound of a Bulgar farm-house. The -floor of its single room lay perhaps two -feet beneath the soil, and one entered by -a steep incline—that is to say, the inhabitants -entered. The ends of the roof -descended just so low as to give room -for a foot-square window at the level of -the earth; but on the incline mentioned, -it rose. One of my comrades in this -hostelry was poor MacGahan, who lay -on his back and sang the whole day -through when at home. He had laid -some hay upon the “stoop” beside the -entrance, and from amongst it his bright -eyes watched and his voice resounded. -I lived in a waggon. One day the gudewife -interviewed my dragoman. She expressed -her belief that it was MacGahan’s -songs that brought the rain, which, -indeed, was perennial. She clung to -her point with vehemence. Her husband -arrived, and so did some Cossacks. -They listened with great interest for a -while, understanding not a word, and -then, with a happy impulse, hustled the -Bulgar head first into his den. The -motive of this proceeding lay beyond our -comprehension, and theirs also, no -doubt; but the Cossack is an irresponsible -being. When we laughed they -roared, crinkling their jolly, ugly faces -until the eyes vanished altogether. I -gave them a drink, but not a many-bladed -knife, which was lost to human sight -in that hour.</p> - -<p>The dirtiest experience to which mankind -may be subjected is a campaign; -but when Russ meets Turk on Bulgarian -fields you have a conjuncture of men -and circumstances not to be realised elsewhere. -The country was sodden at that -time, the camps mid-leg deep in puddled -clay. General Zortoff, who had the -command, occupied a hut much like -ours, a couple of hundred yards away; -but we always mounted to pay a call,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span> -for the space round head-quarters was -an actual bog. Officers waiting on the -general sat perched upon fences round -his yard, in a manner very drolly miserable. -The staff had their office in a -cowshed which had not been cleaned for -years.</p> - -<p>A month in a Dyak house is another -pleasing recollection. For that space of -time, barring nights camped out, my -quarters lay besides the council fire. A -hoop of human heads hung above it, -within arm’s length of my own. Ugly -were they as valued—precious ugly, one -might say with literal truth—but the -ghosts never visited my dreams. All -the inhabitants of a Dyak village dwell -under one roof, more than a thousand -feet in length sometimes. The whole -building stands twenty to sixty feet in -air on massive posts. Every family has -its single apartment side by side, the -chief’s in the middle, and every door -opens on a clear, sheltered space running -from end to end, which we call the -inner verandah, for there is a second -beyond the eave. Opposite the chief’s -door lie the big stones of the council -hearth, the heads, belonging to the clan, -strung on hoops, and details of common -property. That month spent with -savages, living their life, noting the -thousand small events of every day, -about which the most thoughtful of men -would hardly think of asking speculative -questions—the experience of that time -taught me much that has been useful -since: for the naked barbarian and the -æsthetic philosopher are one. He who -knows by practice the instincts of human -nature understands a thousand mysteries -inscrutable to one who has only its acquired -customs to guide him.</p> - -<p>Pleasant was the teaching. Fog alone -was visible from the top of the ladder -when the house began to stir—a sea of -mist from which arose, with no trunks -perceptible, the crowns of fruit trees and -feathered crests of palms. First the -married men turned out, and then the -bachelors appeared from their separate -quarter; shivering under his bark blanket, -each cut a plug of betel and chewed -it. Then graceful girls came out with -long shovel baskets, some leisurely and -composed, others bustling; these had -not winnowed the paddy over night, and -certain of the youths knew why. After<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span> -a while the housewife opened her door, -and in that defiant voice which belongs -to hard-working mothers everywhere, -summoned her family to breakfast. When -they reappeared the fog was lifting, the -sky dappled like an opal. Cheered by -the growing warmth men moved briskly, -arranging their tools and arms and gear. -The young women and maidens followed, -a pleasing bevy, with loads strapped to -their backs, and all the villagers descended -to the lower earth.</p> - -<p>Only the chief and his old councillors -remained—sitting over their eternal fire, -chewing their eternal betel—the grandames, -and the sick. Towards sunset -the laboring folk returned, and the males -sat to chew and gossip, but the girls had -still their hardest work to do. Presently -all the house resounded with the thud -of pestles, and the air was filled with -husks from the pounded rice. A silence -of interest and hunger followed whilst -the meal was cooking, and then the pleasure -of the day began. For the elders -it was only talk, always the same, as far -as I could gather, of bad times and good -times, and the prospect of the year; -seldom personal, and never gossiping, at -the chief’s fire, where all heads of families -assembled. No one paid attention -to the youth or to the maidens, so soon -as their household duties were complete. -By this time darkness had quite fallen, -and there was no light excepting the low -fires. Shoulders glossy as brown silk -were faintly luminous in the twilight, -as we looked down the house; from -time to time a fire shot out, revealing -the seated group around, lively enough, -but subdued. Shadows stalked from -hearth to hearth, tinkling and sparkling -in brazen finery, and vanished with the -gloom;—then the whispered chatter of -girls, the smothered merriment, became -more loud, with expostulations and -mirthful appeals for help. A very pleasant -scene; but I loved also to awake -at midnight, and observe that different -picture. The councillors, taking no -exercise, never turned in; all the night -through they maundered, and dozed, -and coughed, and chewed betel. Above -them the teeth of the weazened “heads” -glimmered through the smoke. A labyrinth -of posts and beams was faintly outlined -in their rear. Now and again a -young form passed stealthily, for in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span> -hours of darkness courtship is seriously -pursued. Beneath the cave I caught a -glimpse of azure sky, and palm fronds -gleaming in the moonlight. Of all the -odd quarters I have known this is still -the dearest to memory.</p> - -<p>Once upon a time I lost myself in -the veldt, somewhere by the Vaal river. -Leaving Pniel in a “spider cart,” with -a mulatto groom, I inspected the wet-diggings -as far as Gong-Gong, and then -got off the track. They told me that -to go wrong would be impossible, with -an Africander to steer my course, but -I contrived to do it. Some philosophers -would have you think that every -savage has an instinctive mastery of -woodcraft, but experience leads me to -think that fools are almost as common -in Barbarie as in Christendom. -We lost ourselves, and wandered two -days, heading direct for the Atlantic—and -for nothing else in particular, besides -the Namaqualand desert. Settlements -are very few in that veldt, and -the only one we came across was Jantje’s -kraal on the second evening;—Jantje -has since rebelled, and is now -an outlaw, I believe. It had some forty -huts on the top of a mound, encompassed -by raging brooks;—for the sky -had been little better than a sieve -since we started. There was no sign -of life, but a swelling roar of voices -directed me to a wooden church, which -I entered. All the population were there, -and the vehemence of their devotions -was deafening. A fat man hurried up, -not ceasing to howl with the rest—his -mouth opened from ear to ear and -nose to chin. He took my arm, and -led me out like a stray dog, whilst -the congregation bellowed and stared -without a pause. So many white lips—and -teeth—fixed on me, in a gathering -darkness that obscured the black faces, -had an effect indescribably gruesome -and absurd.</p> - -<p>Outside the church this personage -turned to resume his place, singing all -the time as loud as he could bawl. -My groom coming up arrested certain -demands of explanation, which began -to take a serious form, but no help -could be got from Jantje’s people. We -annexed an empty hut and camped there -supperless, wet through. My first experience -of tompans was made that night.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span> -This curious insect dwells in deserted -Kaffir buildings and nowhere else, I believe. -He is armed after the best and -newest suggestions of science for naval -equipment—his vital parts and locomotive -machinery protected by the cuirass, -his artillery, of great weight and superior -rifling, on the Moncrieff system, -swift to attack and agile to retreat. -You cannot crush him with any weapon -less ponderous than a hammer; to ignore -a beast as large and as flat as a -threepenny bit is impossible, and moral -influence seems to be quite ineffective. -To sing hymns and cultivate tompans -was the only visible employment of -Jantje’s kraal. I cannot affect to regret -that its inhabitants have been scattered -to the winds. Wherever they have -fled they have found an opportunity to -study better manners.</p> - -<p>But I was going to recall the odd -quarters at Jacobsdaal which brought -this adventure to a fitting close. We -had no treaty of extradition with the -Free State at that time—I do not know -that we have one now. All sorts of criminals -took refuge at Jacobsdaal, a tiny but -prosperous settlement lying just across -the frontier. During my absence a gust -of indignation had swept over the Diamond -Fields, and all the guilty, the -suspected, and the alarmed had fled. -The landlady of the best “Accommodation -House” declared to me, almost -with tears, that her dwelling, -hitherto inveterate in virtue, was become -a rendezvous of malefactors. She -advised me to try the other shop for -once, since even thieves would not go -there by choice—naturally. I did so, -and found the guests sitting down. In<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span> -the place of honor was a canteen -man, badly wanted by the New Rush -police. I also recognized an acquaintance -accused of cheating at cards in -the “Pig and Whistle;” another who -had been lately described to the magistrate -as “tremendous delirious;” an -American gentleman whom the police -had vainly besought to render an account -to his partners. One of these latter, -in attendance on his fugitive associate, -identified for me a man charged -with murder, and two common thieves. -The conversation was most polite. -The chairman’s suasive tones in proposing -a “leetle mutton” were as good -as testimony to character. He had a -trick of cocking the old smoking-cap -upon his head before every observation, -as if to point it with knowingness. The -extreme propriety with which he guided -the conversation so overawed the thieves -that they were too hoarse to talk. My -poor “tremendous” friend yielded to -the same wholesome influence, and addressed -everyone in the third person -as “the honorable gentleman on my -right,” or left, or opposite. As for -the manslaughterer, he showed warm -philanthropy, arguing with vehemence -that black people have as good rights -as white, and better in their own country. -Circumstances made this topic -embarrassing to the chairman. He -cocked his smoking-cap from side to -side, imploring everyone to take some -more of everything. After supper he -made a little speech, ending with a toast—“Home, -lads, mothers and dads.” -The company drank it with deep emotion.—<cite>Belgravia.</cite></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span></p> - - - - -<h2><a name="SIR_TRISTRAM_DE_LYONESSE" id="SIR_TRISTRAM_DE_LYONESSE">SIR TRISTRAM DE LYONESSE.</a><br /> - -<small>BY E. M. SMITH.</small></h2> - - -<p>The ancient adage that “there is no -new thing under the sun,” has been -recently applied by a popular writer of -fiction to the romantic stories of the day. -But surely nowhere are the words of -the Preacher more abundantly illustrated -than in the realm of narrative poetry. -With whom did “The Canterbury -Tales,” “The Fairy Queen,”“The -Idylls of the King,” originate? Certainly -not with Chaucer, Spenser, or -Tennyson. The hidden sources of -those delightful rivers of song lie far -away, so far that few care to trace them. -The same, or nearly the same, story is -handed down from one man to another, -till at last some master-mind catches its -true significance, tells it for once as it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span> -was never told before, and links his name -with it through all the ages. Sometimes -though more rarely, different capabilities -of the same story will strike more than -one master-mind, and then the comparisons -are full of interest, and bring -out into sharp relief the idiosyncrasies -of each narrator. It has been so with -portions of the “Iliad,” of the “Nibelungen -Lied,” and of our own “Morte -D’Arthur.” It is so still with the story -of Sir Tristram de Lyonesse, who, of -all King Arthur’s Knights of the Round -Table, seems to have gone the farthest -and fared the best. Rarely indeed has -the homage of poets so far apart in time, -and varying so widely in spirit and conception, -been tendered so persistently -to one object. Arthur may pass away -in peace to the cool valley of Avilion, -Launcelot to his grave in Joyous Guard, -Galahad to the Blessed Vision which -last he saw with mortal eyes in the city -of Estorause; but Tristram is of the -earth, earthy, and on the earth he abides. -Twelve centuries have not quenched the -ardor of his love for fair Iseult, nor -traced one wrinkle on his brow.</p> - -<p>Briefly, the legend of his life is this: -Sir Tristram de Lyonesse as his first -great exploit slew Sir Marhaus, the -deadly foe of his uncle, King Mark, but -was by him so desperately wounded that -he sailed to Ireland under the name of -Tamtris, to be cured of his wound by -the surgical arts of the Queen of Ireland, -sister to Sir Marhaus, and mother -of the beautiful Princess Iseult. On -his return to Cornwall he described the -Princess in words so glowing that King -Mark resolved to marry her, and sent -his nephew back to escort her over the -sea. Fearful lest all should not go well, -the Queen gave to her daughter’s faithful -maid, Bragwaine, a magic potion, -which the bride was to drink on the -night of her marriage with King Mark, -to ensure their mutual love. Unwittingly, -however, Tristram and Iseult -drank of it together on board the vessel; -and, all their lives, it wrought them woe -and misery, until at length they died -together, and were buried side by side. -The facts are always much the same—but -the hero alters so completely as to -change the whole aspect of the story, -and make the interpretation put upon it -different in every age.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span></p> - -<p>When we first meet with him among -the Welsh bards of the sixth century, he -is simply Drystan, or Trystan, the Tumultuous; -his name has not already -doomed him to that <em>triste</em> existence, -which grows consistently more and more -tragic throughout the later records of his -life. He is the son, not of King Meliodas, -but of Talwz; his lady is Essylt; -his uncle, Mark Meirzion; and the chief -points in his character are curiously -brought out by his association with -Greidial and Gwgon, as one of the three -heralds of Britain; with Gwair and Cai, -the diademed princes; with Call and -Pryderi, the mighty swineherds; with -Gwair and Eiddillig, the stubborn chiefs; -with Caswallan and Cynon, the faithful -lovers. Heraldry, obstinacy, fidelity—no -very promising material for a hero -nowadays; but then the lines on which -a poet worked were simpler.</p> - -<p>For three years this tumultuous being -withdrew from Arthur’s Court in disgust -at the issue of one of his quarrels, -and the King, with almost incredible -folly, instead of rejoicing at the deliverance, -sent after him twenty-eight warriors -in succession, all of whom Trystan -overthrew. At last, Gwalzmai with -the Golden Tongue (the Gawaine of -later days) tried his fortune, accosting -the fierce chieftain in these words:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Tumultuous is the wave naturally</div> -<div class="verse">When the sea is its base:</div> -<div class="verse">Who art thou, warrior incomprehensible?</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>To which Trystan Ossianically replies:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Tumultuous be a wave and a thunderstorm:</div> -<div class="verse">While they be tumultuous in their course,</div> -<div class="verse">In the day of conflict I am Trystan.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Finally the Golden-tongued prevails, -and they return together.</p> - -<p>Our next glimpse of him is in the -kingdom of the <i lang="fr">trouvères</i> and <i lang="fr">troubadours</i>, -with whom he is a great favorite. The -famous Mademoiselle Marie, in her -translation, the “Lai Dee Chevrefoil,” -written about the middle of the twelfth -century, sings of a pretty episode in his -love, which none of her successors have -improved upon, and which most of them -have omitted. There are allusions to -him in Chrestien de Troyes, who wrote -before the year 1191, and in the works -of a poetical king of Navarre, about -1226. The date of the Auchinleck MS., -“Sir Tristram,” which Scott raised such<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span> -a tempest by ascribing to Thomas the -Rhymer of Ercildoune, is said to be -1330. It is written in a curious and very -effective metre; the short abrupt line of -two syllables falling regularly near the -end of each stanza reins in the full swing -of the rest with great force and directness. -The poem is full of life and -vigor, and there are touches of naïf -insight here and there in strange contrast -with the rough, matter-of-fact tone -of the whole. Many and quaint are the -adventures of the hero, especially when -he kills a dragon in Ireland for the sake -of Iseult, that “brid bright, as blood -upon snoweing,” and her mother cures -him of the pain caused by its poisonous -tongue, with treacle; or when, having -overcome a terrible “geaunt” in Brittany, -he requires him to adorn the walls -of his castle with “images” of Iseult and -Bragwaine, the beauty of which so astounds -his young brother-in-law, evidently -a novice in works of art, that he -straightway falls backward and breaks -his head!</p> - -<p>This poem, or another much like it, -was celebrated both at home and abroad, -where “Thomas of Britain” was henceforth -quoted as the great authority on -the subject. About the same time lived -Raoul de Beauvais, who also made it -his study; Rusticien de Puise, whose -work is in prose; and the authors of -two metrical fragments in French, from -one of which Scott completed the Auchinleck -MS., though its end had not been -unearthed when he became its editor. -The translation, which carried the name -of Tristram northward as far as Iceland, -is still kept in the library at Copenhagen; -and G. de le Flamma tells us that when -the tomb of a Lombard king was opened -in 1339, there was found inscribed on -his sword, “This was the sword of Sir -Tristram, who killed Amoroyt of Ireland.” -Seghart von Bamberg wrote of -him in 1403, and also Eylhard von -Habergen. Of the same period is the -Romance by Gotfried of Strasburg, who -died in the midst of his work, leaving it -to be finished in a less poetical spirit by -Ulrich von Turheim and Heinrich von -Vribert.</p> - -<p>Our own Geoffrey of Monmouth was -the first to draw Sir Tristram into the -magic circle of Arthur’s knights, in whose -good company he has ever since remain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span>ed. -Lady Juliana Berners mentions him -as the inventor of “venery” or terms of -hunting; and his name occurs in “The -Temple of Glass,” and in Gower, who -states that he fell by King Mark’s own -hand, a tradition followed only by Sir -Thomas Malory and Tennyson. In the -“Orlando Furioso” we hear of the -“Rocca di Tristano,” and Ariosto and -Boiardo drew from his legend, old even -then, their fountains of love and hatred. -Dante places him next to Paris among -the lovers flitting by like cranes in his -“Inferno.” In 1485 Sir Thomas -Malory, himself a knight, published his -noble “Morte D’Arthur,” in which -Tristram is one of the most striking -figures; and it is remarkable that -although he never seems to have thought -there was anything to condemn greatly -in the nephew’s conduct, he palliates it -by defaming the uncle as much as possible—a -moral concession not to be -found in either of the earlier romances, -which he must have consulted for his -work. But we will not multiply references, -lest the reader should be fain to -cry with the author of “Sir Hain and -Dame Anieuse,”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Or pues tu chanter de Tristan,</div> -<div class="verse">Ou de plus longue, se tu sez.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The theme was getting wearisome. Le -Seigneur Luce du château de Gast had -exhausted it in his prose Romance -(where, for the first time, Palamides, -the Paynim lover of Iseult, and Dinadan, -the foolish, knight, appear); and, -besides this, there was a “Romance of -Meliodas,” Tristram’s father, and afterwards -a “Romance of Ysaie le Triste,” -his son; so that all the details of his -private life were nearly as well known as -those of Mr. Carlyle’s to the present -generation. “Ysaie le Triste” appeared -in 1522; and in 1554, when no -imagination, however vivid, could possibly -add a single exploit to those which -had been recounted already, Jean Maugin -took a new departure, and turned -the whole thing into an allegory, in which -Sir Tristram became the type of Christian -chivalry. His queer attempt is -justly ridiculed by Scott; but it is not -altogether without interest, as the first -indication of the symbolic spirit in which -modern poets have treated the legend—with -the exception of Scott himself,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span> -whose beautiful Conclusion and Ballad -are pure imitations of the mediæval -spirit as well as of the mediæval form, -and have nothing modern about them. -Towards the end of the sixteenth century -the taste for chivalrous romance -died out in Europe—or rather fell asleep—and -the name of Tristram was no -more heard for more than two hundred -years, except in a glowing stanza or two -of Spenser’s “Fairy Queen.” Then -came the revival of Scott and Southey -to prepare the way, and lastly that signal -triumph of the ancient story in our -own day, when four of the greatest living -poets singled it out for illustration, and -it became a living power again in the -hands of Wagner, Tennyson, Swinburne, -and Matthew Arnold. But its power is -of a different kind, for a change has -come over the spirit of the dream, since -it was first dreamed long ago among the -Welsh mountains.</p> - -<p>Accordingly Tristram, once the mere -sport of existing circumstances, becomes -a highly responsible person with correctly -oppressive notions of duty. He has -grown old along with the rest of the -world; he rides no more light-hearted -through the forest, sails no more gaily -across the sea, forgetful of all but life -and its deliciousness, woos no more -whom he would. Nor, in the modern -versions, does he die merrily, as he died -in the “Morte D’Arthur” and in the -“Book of Howth,” “harping afore his -lady La Belle Isoud.”Wagner, to -whom one might have fancied, <i lang="la">à priori</i>, -that such an exit for his tenor would -have been most welcome, sentences -him to lingering death of a wound -given him by the traitor Melot; Tennyson -fells him with a blow of King -Mark’s from behind; in Matthew -Arnold he dies naturally; in Swinburne -the false words of Iseult Les Blanches -Mains finish the work of sickness. His -love, his death, are all-important now; -whereas of old the first was but an interesting -episode in the life of a man -who was second only to Sir Launcelot -at a tourney, and the last so insignificant -as to be disposed of in a single sentence. -We hear nothing now of the Castle of -Maidens, or of Lonazep; nothing of the -wife of Sir Segwarides, or of other fair -ladies; nothing at all of that great crisis -in his life when he met Sir Launcelot at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span> -the peron, “and either wounded other -wonderly sore, that the blood ran out -upon the grass.”</p> - -<p>Of course there may be a reason for -this in the fact that we look upon Tristram -as a hero by himself, and therefore -have no need to illustrate his inferiority -to Launcelot, and to Launcelot only, -in love and in war. But where are ye -now, Sir Palamides, Sir Bruno, and Sir -Elias? Your very names have a forgotten -sound.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The knights’ bones are dust,</div> -<div class="verse">And their good swords rust,</div> -<div class="verse">Their souls are with the saints, I trust.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But he who wishes to find any record of -their doings with Sir Tristram must -search through the length and breadth -of Malory’s twenty-one books ere he -find it. Nor is there any trace in the -modern poems of the sweet old story, -how after that “deep draughts of death” -had taken the Lady Elizabeth, Tristram’s -mother, and his father, King -Maliodas, had “let call him Tristram, -the sorrowful-born child,” and had -actually, for love of her, “endured -seven years without a wife,” he married -a wicked lady, who tried to poison Tristram; -and how she was condemned to -death for the attempt, and he rescued -her from his father’s wrath, and made -them accorded, and how she “loved -him ever after, and gave Tristram many -great gifts.”</p> - -<p>All these things, which relieved the -sombre hues of the picture have faded -into dimness. The martial glory of -Tristram has passed away; nothing but -tragedy remains—the sin, the sorrow, -the inexplicable fate which linked two -separated lives together. Long ago it -was a bit of witchcraft pure and simple; -now the magic drink has become the -symbol of mystery and doom, and what -not. Like Paolo and Francesca da -Rimini, the guilty souls are hurried -round and round without a moment’s -respite by the whirlwind of their passion, -in that wonderful opera which the -most devoted followers of Wagner esteem -his masterpiece of blended poetry and -music. The fierce, dark, rapturous -rejoicing of love on the very edge of -death lights it up with a lurid glare, -which makes everything else look pale -and fanciful by comparison; it has no -parallel in art, even among Wagne<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span>r’s -other works, nor can any one desire that -it should have. The great difficulties -which stand in the way of its representation -may prevent it from ever becoming -popular in the sense in which “Lohengrin” -and “Tannhäuser” are popular; -but those who have had the good fortune -to hear it will not easily forget its unique -and terrible power. It is strange that -Wagner should have made King Mark -an ideal uncle, tender and forgiving to -the last degree, and so full of self-denial -that had he but known of the fatal drink -in time, he would have resigned his -bride to his nephew with the best grace -in the world. Dramatically the action -loses by this change; the sympathies of -the audience are baffled and divided; -do what we will, the conduct of the hero -seems mean and treacherous, and his -death more arbitrary than it need have -been, since Melot, the traitor who gives -him his mortal wound, had far less reason -to hate him than had the injured -bridegroom. Indeed, it is difficult to -see what Wagner himself thought that -he gained by this amendment, unless -that tragedy itself becomes more tragic -by the needless suffering inflicted on a -high and noble soul, ready to sacrifice -its dearest hopes rather than undergo -the agony of seeing another’s virtue -tempted beyond endurance. There is -also one dire offence against good taste, -worthy of Wagner’s earliest models (and -of Shakespeare in “King Lear”,) in -the scene where Tristram tears the bandage -from his wounds. But if the hero -fares rather badly, until we forgive him -for the sake of his death-cry, “Liebe!” -the heroine has never in the course of -her long life found such an interpreter. -She has lost, indeed, her old, light-hearted -innocence; but she has lost it -to become one of the grandest and most -original creations in the whole range of -the drama. She surpasses even the -bounds of passion; the very <em>fury</em> of love -is upon her, from the moment when, -foreseeing that she can no longer live -without him, she resolves to make Tristram -drink with her of the death-drink, -and the charm begins to work, to the -moment when she falls dead besides his -body. The magic only reveals what -shame forbade her to confess. The key -to her whole character lies in her answer -to Bragwaine’s entreaty that she will<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span> -not give the signal for Tristram’s approach -by extinguishing the torch in the -window of her tower in King Mark’s -palace—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Und wär ’es meines Lebens Licht,</div> -<div class="verse">Lachend es zu löschen</div> -<div class="verse">Zag ’ich nicht.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Wagner showed his wisdom when he -left her alone in her glory, and made -no attempt to introduce that other -Iseult of Brittany, who certainly interferes -with any conception of Tristram -as the most faithful of lovers. “And -for because that Sir Tristram had -such cheer and riches, and all other -pleasures that he had, almost he had -forsaken La Beale Isoud. And so upon -a time Sir Tristram agreed to wed Isoud -les Blanches Mains. And at the last -they were wedded, and solemnly held -their marriage,” But this is far too -natural and unheroic for the nineteenth -century; and poor Iseult the Second -fares ill at the hands of our poets—excepting -Matthew Arnold who, with unwonted -chivalry, has taken up the cause -of this distressed damsel (this “snowdrop -by the sea,” whose own brother -forsook her for her namesake), and made -of her one of those meek, motherly, -sweet little women, who are ready to -forgive any one they love anything; -and who, too weak either to make or -mar the lives with which they come in -contact, yet hold their own by the power -of that clinging, lasting devotedness, -which is all their innocent natures let -them know of passion. Very sweet is -his picture of her, standing in her gorgeous -robes by the chimney-piece with -the firelight flickering on her white face -and her white hands, and her jewelled -clasp, ready to vanish gracefully the -moment her rival enters; and it is with -a gentle feeling of regret that we lose -sight of her at last, wandering on the -seashore with her children, while she -tells them the old story of Merlin and -Vivien to beguile the weary hours of -her widowhood. Here and here only -the pure, white-handed maiden-wife -bears away the palm from the old Iseult -of Tristram’s dreams, with</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse indent8">Her proud, dark eyes,</div> -<div class="verse">And her petulant, quick replies;</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and we rather resent her intrusion than -welcome her, when she comes back to -nurse him, very repentant indeed, like a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span> -sort of queenly Sister of Mercy. His -dying request is also a great innovation:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Close mine eyes, then seek the princess Iseult;</div> -<div class="verse">Speak her fair, she is of royal blood!</div> -<div class="verse">Say, I charged her, that thou stay beside me—</div> -<div class="verse">She will grant it; she is kind and good.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The hero of “the last tournament” -is a very different being. Of all those -who have told the story, Tennyson alone -seems to have looked upon Tristram as -thoroughly base and unworthy. Such a -knight as this, so rough, licentious, and -wanting in courtesy, could never have -been Launcelot’s second; and indeed -Tennyson lays no stress whatever on -the strong friendship which existed between -them—so strong that neither -would ever wittingly harm any relation -or friend of the other. As Wagner has -made the legend a symbol of that strife -between man, his passions, and his circumstances, -which is the complex motive -of our latest tragedy,—as Matthew -Arnold has drawn from it the lesson, that -quiet and neglected lives often do more -to make the world lovely than great and -brilliant ones (a lesson which chivalry -would never have found there),—so Tennyson -has made it a symbol of that degradation -of the whole nature, which -follows the conscious surrender of the -spirit to the flesh, and has drawn from -it the lesson that the very happiness of -partners in guilt is tainted with bitterness -and turns to ashes in their mouths. -Nowhere else is there such a sharp contrast -implied between Launcelot, the -sinner who repented and was given time -for repentance, and Tristram, the sinner -who repented not and was cut off in the -midst of his sin. There is a great gulf -between them, across which they do not -even join their hands.</p> - -<p>Iseult stands in much the same relation -to Guinevere; she is coarser, more -ironical, free from any feeling of remorse; -but she surpasses Tristram as -Launcelot surpasses Guinevere, in “faith -unfaithful,” and one has a strong compassion -for her in her lonely home, -looking out over the wild sea, with that -stealthy spy of a husband, dogging her -every footstep. How full of compressed, -dramatic force the last lines are!</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">He rose, he turn’d, then, flinging round her neck,</div> -<div class="verse">Claspt it; and cried “Thine Order, O my Queen!”</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span> -<div class="verse">But while he bow’d to kiss the jewel’d throat,</div> -<div class="verse">Out of the dark, just as the lips had touch’d,</div> -<div class="verse">Behind him rose a shadow and a shriek—</div> -<div class="verse">“Mark’s way,” said Mark, and clove him through the brain.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Not so has Swinburne read the character. -His Tristram of Lyonesse is -once more the free, open-handed, light-hearted -hero, or rather he would be if -he had not inevitably contracted some -of the <i lang="de">Zeit-Geist</i>, its weariness, its languor, -its power of analysis. His gaiety -is not spontaneous—his song is as labored -as if he had had to send it up for an -examination; his love is over-heavy -with its own sweetness. The long-drawn, -honied lines drag on and on -through pages of description, till we -almost long for a rough, dissonant note -to break the eternal, soft, alliterative -hissing and kissing. But Iseult bears -the wealth of jewelled epithets lavished -upon her, and it is easy enough to -understand them when we are under -the spell of her fascination, or when she -is finely contrasted with the cruel, cold-blooded -Iseult of Brittany, who in her -jealous anger kills her husband, by telling -him that the sails of the ship which -is bringing his love to him are black instead -of white, so that he thinks she -has refused to come:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">And fain he would have raised himself and seen</div> -<div class="verse">And spoken, but strong death struck sheer between,</div> -<div class="verse">And darkness closed as iron round his head,</div> -<div class="verse">And smitten through the heart lay Tristan dead.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>So there he lies. But he may yet be -born again, and fight, and love, and die, -for who knows what shall be in the days -to come, or to what ancient songs the -houses of our children’s children may -echo? It may be there is yet a further -interpretation of the riddle, the outlines -of which we cannot even guess; and -that the two Iseults may come to like -each other. Things even more strange -than this have happened. It was said -that out of Tristram’s grave there grew -an eglantine, which turned itself around -Iseult’s; and although it was cut three -times by order of the king, the eglantine -was ever fair and fresh. By this time it -has grown into a mighty tree, and, for -all we know, it has not done growing -yet.—<cite>Merry England.</cite></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span></p> - - - - -<h2><a name="OLD_MYTHOLOGY_IN_NEW_APPAREL" id="OLD_MYTHOLOGY_IN_NEW_APPAREL">OLD MYTHOLOGY IN NEW APPAREL.</a><br /> - -<small>BY J. THEODORE BENT.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span></p> - -<p>We are generally accustomed to consider -mythology as a bygone episode of -<i lang="la">juventus mundi</i>; it may seem at first -sight strange to realize that what we -have read of in Homer exists to-day. -But so it is, and the following facts -collected during lengthened tours in -remote corners of Greece will prove, I -hope, that the mystic beings of classical -Greece are present now, when the world -is supposed to be growing old. All my -instances are from the islands of the -Ægean Sea, the Cyclades and the Sporades, -where communication with the -outer world has never been great, and -over which the various waves of Goths, -Italians, Turks, which in a measure destroyed -the identity of continental -Greece, had, comparatively speaking, -slight influence, and that only in the -towns near the coast, whereas up in the -mountains of Naxos, Amorgos, &c., pure -Greek blood still flows.</p> - -<p>Here the mythology of their ancestors -is deeply ingrained in the inhabitants, -both in the ritual of their Church, and -in their manners and customs; the ritual, -indeed, of the Eastern Church is but -an intellectual adaptation under Christian -guidance of the problems propounded -by the later philosophers to the popular -doctrines of polytheism.</p> - -<p>I was in the island of Keos, or Zia, -one of the Cyclades, when the idea of -forming this collection struck me, and it -was on the occasion of being told that -here St. Artemidos is considered as the -patron saint of weakly children. The -church dedicated to this saint is some -little way from the town on the hill -slopes; thither a mother will take a -child afflicted by any mysterious wasting, -“struck by the Nereids,” as they say; -she then strips off its clothes, and puts -on new ones blessed by the priest, leaving -the old ones as a perquisite for the -church; and then if perchance the child -grows strong, she will thank St. Artemidos -for the blessing vouchsafed, unconscious -that she is perpetuating the archaic -worship of Artemis. The Ionian idea -of the fructifying and nourishing properties -of the Ephesian Artemis has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span> -been transferred to her Christian namesake.</p> - -<p>About these Nereids, too, we hear -much in modern Greece, and they have -the properties of many of our mythological -friends, those of Keos, for example, -are supposed to live on cliffs and in -trees; if a man sleeps under the shadow -of a cliff or tree, and is taken with a cold -sweat, they say “the goddess of the -tree has injured him,” and accordingly -to appease her they spread on the place -a clean white cloth, and put on it new-made -bread, a plate with honey, another -with sweetmeats, a bottle of good wine, -a knife and fork and an empty glass, -an unburnt candle, and an incense pot; -an old woman utters some mystic words, -and then all go away, “that the Nereids -may eat and the sufferer regain his -health.” We have here a ceremony very -like that anciently performed at Athens -to appease the Eumenides when a banquet -was laid near the caves they were -supposed to haunt, of which honey and -milk were the necessary ingredients.</p> - -<p>The Nereids in many cases correspond -to the nymphs of antiquity; they -preside over healing streams, and they -wash in them at night when the waters -sleep, and no one at that time dares to -approach for fear of becoming frenzied -(νυμφόληπτος).</p> - -<p>The cloak of Phœbus Apollo has fallen -on the prophet Elias. As of old -temples on all the highest hills of the -islands are dedicated to the sun-god; -the reason is obvious. Ἡλιος, the sun -deity (the <i>h</i> not being aspirated), at once -suggested Elias to the easily accommodating -divines, and to all intents and -purposes the prophet supplies the place -of the sun-god of antiquity. Prophet -Elias has power over rain; in times of -drought people assemble in crowds in -his church to pray for rain, and in this -he has the attribute of ὄμβριος or ὑέτιος -Ζεῦς. When it thunders they say the -prophet is driving in his chariot in pursuit -of demons.</p> - -<p>To pass on to another analogy. There -is a curious parallel between St. Anarguris, -the patron saint in some parts of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span> -flocks and herds, and the god Pan of -ancient days. On the island of Thermià -(Κύθνος) I saw a church dedicated to -St. Anarguris built over the mouth of a -cavern, as the protecting saint of the -place, instead of Pan, the ancient god of -grottos. But a still more marked instance -of the continuation of Pan worship -occurs to-day on Keos at the little church -of St. Anarguris, at a remote hamlet -called 'στὸ μακρινὸ. Whenever an ox -is ailing they take it to this church and -pray for its recovery; if the cock crows -when they start, or they hear the voice -of a man or the grunt of a pig, there is -every hope that the animal will be cured; -but on the contrary, if they hear a cat, -a dog, or a woman, it is looked upon as -an evil omen. When at the church of -St. Anarguris they solemnly register a -vow that if the ox recovers they will present -it to the saint when its days of work -are over; accordingly, every year on the -1st of July, the day on which they -celebrate the feast of St. Anarguris, -numbers of aged oxen may be seen on -the road to this church, where they are -slaughtered on the threshold and the -flesh distributed amongst the poor.</p> - -<p>St. Nicholas, again, is the lineal descendant -of Poseidon; he is the sailor’s -god. Wherever in ancient times there -existed a temple to the honor of Poseidon -we now find an insignificant white-washed -edifice dedicated to St. Nicholas. -This is especially noticeable at Tenos, -where was in antiquity the famous shrine -and feast of Poseidon. On this island -the chief town is now called St. Nicholas, -and hither yearly assemble to worship -thousands of Greeks from all parts of -the world before a miracle-working -shrine. Modern priestcraft, in short, -has cleverly arranged that Tenos should -be the modern Delos where the topic of -independent panhellenism can be freely -discussed.</p> - -<p>Everything nautical has to do with St. -Nicholas; in Mykenos a little church -built on a rock out in the harbor is dedicated -to him; another on the sea shore -at Paros is dedicated to Ἅγιος Νικόλαος -Θαλασσίτης; his picture, or εἰκὼν is -painted on the inside of crabs’ backs, -which are gilded outside and worshipped. -In nautical songs St. Nicholas is always -alluded to as the inventor of the rudder, -and is represented as seated at the helm,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span> -whilst Christ sits at the prow and the -Virgin in the middle. In a storm sailors -call on him for assistance, as the ancients -did on the Dioscouri, whom they thought -to have power to allay storms direct from -Poseidon himself.</p> - -<p>We always find St. Dionysius as the -successor of Dionysos in the Christian -ritual. The island of Naxos was a chief -centre of the worship of the wine-loving -god in antiquity; and a fable about St. -Dionysius, still told in the islands and -on the mainland, clearly points to the -continuity of the myth. It is as follows:—</p> - -<p>St. Dionysius was on his way one day -from his monastery on Mount Olympus -to Naxos, and he sat down to rest during -the heat of the day. Close to him -he saw a pretty plant which he wished to -take with him, and, lest it should wither -by the way, he put it into the leg bone -of a bird, and to his surprise at his next -halting-place he found it had sprouted; -so, accordingly, he put it into the leg -bone of a lion, and the same thing occurred; -finally, he put it into the leg of an -ass, and in reaching Naxos he found the -plant so rooted in the bones that he -planted them altogether. And up came -a vine, from the fruit of which he made -the first wine, a little of which made the -saint sing like a bird, a little more made -him strong as a lion, and yet a little -more made him as foolish as an ass.</p> - -<p>At Melos they have a curious feast -which recalls a Bacchic revelry. Every -landowner who wishes to plant a vineyard -calls together, on a certain day, -fifty or more men, when church is over; -to these he gives a spade apiece, and -slaughters some goats and fills skins -with wine. Then they all start off together -to their work, preceded by a -standard-bearer holding a white banner. -In the field they eat the food, drink -the wine, and plant the vineyard, all in -the space of one day, and return home -again, most of them in a decided state -of intoxication. This is followed by a -dance and further revelry in front of -the church, which doubtless the village -priest will hallow with his presence. -The Greeks, taken as a whole, are a -sober race, but on certain occasions and -festivals it is almost a religious duty to -drink heavily. In the island of Paros -there actually exists a church dedicated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span> -to the drunken St. George, whose feast-day -is on the 3rd of November. The -priest thereof, in answer to my inquiries -about this strange name, remarked that -the 3rd of November is the anniversary -of St. George’s burial, and then the inhabitants -usually tap their new-made -wine and get drunk; but why they -should on such a solemn occasion speak -of Ἅγιος ΓἍοργιος μεθύστης I could not -divine, unless we take into account the -hereditary tendency of the Greeks to -deify passions.</p> - -<p>A curious instance of the survival of -the mythical Titans I met at Chios, at -the southern point of which island exists -a colossal white rock; this the natives -told me was a stone which Samson had -once hurled against God, and it had -fallen here. But of all the myths of -antiquity which exist to-day none is -more marked than the belief in Charon, -the Styx, and Hades. In Thermià they -believe that in Charon’s infernal kingdom -are lamps which represent the life -of men, and when each man’s lamp is -extinguished for want of oil he will die.</p> - -<p>A Greek peasant looks upon death -quite differently from what a peasant of -the western world is taught to believe. -To him it is the end of all joy and gladness; -the songs over his body (myriologues) -speak of the black earth, the -end of light and brilliancy. A popular -Klephtic song on the death of Zedros, -when read by the side of Sophocles’ description -of the death of Ajax, shows -how curiously alike are the ideas of death -as painted in the two poems. Charon is -still believed to be a white-haired old -man with long and fearful nails, and in -myriologues or lamentations, which are -still of every-day occurrence in the islands, -you actually hear of Charon’s caïque. -He is now spoken of as Charos. I had -been told that, in some parts of Greece -they still put money on the mouth of a -deceased person to pay the passage -(ναὗλον). I sought in vain for instances -of it in the islands; but one day, whilst -attending a child’s funeral in a mountain -village of Naxos, I saw a wax cross put -on the childs’ mouth by the priest, and -on inquiry I was told it was the ναὗλον, -<i>i.e.</i>, freight money—so completely has -the Eastern Church incorporated into -itself the ancient ideas.</p> - -<p>In a popular song I have heard Cha<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span>ron -spoken of as a “bird like unto a -black swallow,” which compares curiously -with the passage in the twenty-second -<cite>Odyssey</cite>, where Athena is represented -as sitting on the roof of the palace -at Ithaca like a swallow, on the day of -vengeance for Penelope’s suitors.</p> - -<p>It will be apparent from the above remarks -that at the time of the change of -religion from paganism to Christianity, -names were given to saints to supply -wants felt by the abandonment of polytheism. -There are many instances of -this. For example, St. Eleutherius is -the saint called upon by women in -childbirth to deliver them; deaf people -are recommended to consult St. Jacob -(Ἄκουφος as he is called, κουφος—deaf), -and in Lesbos I was told that St. -Therapon could heal all manner of diseases. -In the same way young married -people who wish for a numerous progeny -chose St. Polycarp as their patron -saint, so that they may have many teeth -in their house, as the saying goes (πολὺ -'δοντια 'στὸ σπίτι).</p> - -<p>St. Charalambos is, however, the -Æsculapius of modern days. He used -to hold jurisdiction over the plague, -and is represented as a hideous wizard, -trampling under foot a serpent with -smoke issuing out of its mouth; and in -fever-stricken, marshy districts St. Charalambos -still reigns supreme. In many -places it is the custom on the outbreak -of a pestilence for forty women to make -a garment in one day, which is hung up -in the saint’s church. For instance, at -Zephyria, the mediæval capital of the -island of Melos, which was abandoned -altogether about twenty years ago as unfit -to live in, I visited the ruins, and in the -centre of them saw still standing the -church of St. Charalambos, and an old -man, who happened to be picking his -olives there at the time, told me the history -of the desolation, and the methods -they used to resort to when he was -young to rid the place of disease; how -they used to bury heifers whole; and -how they used to fasten up illnesses in -a cauldron—that is to say, they wrote -down the names of the various maladies -on paper, and boiled them in a cauldron -with some money and a cock in front of -the shrine of the modern Æsculapius. -But in vain; the town had to be abandoned, -for it had been cursed by a priest,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span> -and never could hope to recover salubrity.</p> - -<p>It is a very common custom for Greek -peasants to pass the night in a church of -St. Charalambos with a view to cure -an ailment; at festivals too, near miraculous -<i lang="el">eikons</i>, such as the one at Tenos, -the invalids pass whole nights in the -church, reminding one forcibly of that -ridiculous scene in Aristophanes (Plut. -vv. 655) when the priests stole the food -from the invalids who were asleep in the -temple of Æsculapius, and we can easily -see in this custom a mild form of the -ancient ἐγκοίμησις when the sick folks -lay down in the skin of a newly killed -ram in the churches, and in this luxurious -couch awaited the inspiration of the -divinity.</p> - -<p>The quackeries and incantations common -in Greece to-day as specifics for -certain diseases are many of them very -quaint, being long rhymes and formulas -mixing up Christ, the Virgin, and saints -with magic words and signs which savour -of heathendom. It is the old women -only who are supposed to know them, -and they are very shy of producing them -before a foreign unbeliever. They are -just like those women who in ancient -Athens practised quackery and secret -cures, which were zealously guarded and -kept up as specialities in families. Curiously -enough these old women in Greece -who profess to cure diseases will tell you, -arguing from the analogy of plants, that -all diseases are worms, which consume -the body, and that they are generated by -the wrath of the gods. They have -arrived at the bacillus theory by much -straighter reckoning than our physicians.</p> - -<p>On the day of the commemoration of -the dead I was in a small village in -Amorgos, and there witnessed the quaint -ceremony of κόλλυβα. Every house -on this occasion sends to the church a -plate of boiled corn; tottering old -women with one foot in the grave generally -bring it, and pour the contents into a -large basket placed before the high altar -whilst the service is going on, and then -into the mass of corn they stick a candle, -and if the family is especially grand -they have separate plates with sesame -seeds, or adorned with patterns of raisins -and almonds. After the service is over -the boiled corn and other delicacies are -distributed amongst the poor outside the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span> -church. These offerings are very suggestive -of the ancient idea of Demeter -and her daughter.</p> - -<p>We will now consider another branch -of mythology—the fickle goddesses, the -Fates (Μοῖρα), whose workings in modern -Greece are looked upon with as -much superstition as of old. On the -island of Sikinos I attended an interesting -ceremony called the μοίρισμα of a -child, which happens a year after its birth. -All the friends and relatives are gathered -together to a feast. A tray is -brought out, and on it are put various -objects—a pen, money, tools, an egg, -&c., and whichever the infant first -touches with its hands is held to be the -indication of the μοῖρα as to the most -suitable career to be chosen for it. The -meaning of the first-mentioned articles -is obvious. The demarch of Sikinos -told me that his son had touched a pen, -consequently he had been sent to the -university at Athens, and had there distinguished -himself, but the meaning of -the egg is not quite so clear, and the -egg is the horror of all parents, for if -the child touches it he will be fitted for -no calling in life—he will be a good-for-nothing, -a mere duck’s egg, so to speak, -in society.</p> - -<p>Some ceremony such as this must have -been the one alluded to by Apollodorus -when he tells us that seven days after the -birth of Meleager the Fates told the -horologue of the child, and the torch -was lighted on the hearth. In some -places still the seventh day is chosen as -the one for this important ceremony, -and it is called ἑφτὰ. When it is dark -and the lamps lighted a table is put in -the middle of the house, a basin full of -honey in the centre of the table, and all -round quantities of food. Numerous -oil lamps are then lighted; one dedicated -to Christ, another to the Virgin, -another to the Baptist, and so forth. -A symbol of faith is then read and deep -silence prevails, and the saint whose -lamp is first extinguished is chosen as -the protector of the infant. At this -moment they say the Fates come in and -“κάλομοιραζουσι” the child, and take -some of the food from the table.</p> - -<p>The Fates are in some places supposed -to write on the forehead of a man his -destiny. Pimples on the nose and forehead -are called γραψίματα τῶν Μοίρων.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span> -The decrees of the Fates are unalterable. -According to various legends, attempts -have been made to change them, -but without avail. Only once, a girl of -Naxos, so I was told, up in a mountain -village, who was excessively ugly, managed -to learn from a magician where the -Fates lived, and that if she could get -them to eat salt they would go blind and -change her fate. She contrived to bring -this about, and became lovely, married a -prince, but had no children; “showing,” -continued the legend by way of -moral, “that the Fates never consent -to a person being altogether happy.”</p> - -<p>This changing from ugliness to beauty -is a common subject for legends and -beliefs. The first woman to see a child -after birth must be lovely, so as to impart -to it her beauty, and the first man -must be of great strength, so as to impart -his vigor. This reminds one of -one of Herodotus’s stories (vi. 61), when -he seriously tells us of the change of -an ugly child into the fairest woman of -Sparta by her nurse taking her daily to -the temple of the heroine Helen to pray. -One day the heroine met the nurse -and predicted that the child would become -fair, which accordingly, says -Herodotus, came to pass.</p> - -<p>In Melos the Fates are greatly consulted -in matrimonial concerns. The 25th of -November, St. Catharine’s day, is considered -the most suitable, and St. Catharine -is accordingly prayed to by unmarried -maidens to intercede on their behalf. -On the vigil of her feast they make -cakes with a good deal of salt in, which -they eat before going to bed. As a -natural result of eating so much salt and -thinking about matrimony their dreams -often take the turn of water and a kindly -man offering them to drink. If this is -so they are sure to marry that man.</p> - -<p>Many of our mythological personages -and legends have their parallel to-day. -There are the Lamiæ, for instance, evil-working -women who live in desert -places, ill-formed like their ancestors, -daughters of Belus and Sibyl; utterly -unfit are they for household duties, for -they cannot sweep, so an untidy woman -to-day is said to have made the sweepings -of a Lamia (Τῆς Λαμίας τὰ σαρώματα); -they cannot bake, for they put bread into -the oven before heating it; they have -dogs and horses, but give bones to their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">190</span> -horses and straw to their dogs. They -are very gluttonous, so much so that in -Byzantine and modern Greek the verb -λαμιώνω is used to express over-eating. -They have a special predilection for -baby’s flesh, and a Greek mother of to-day -will frighten her child by saying that -a Lamia will come if it is naughty, just -as was said to naughty children in -ancient days; for the legend -used to run that Zeus loved Lamia too -well, untidy though she was, and Hera, -out of jealousy, killed her children, -whereat Lamia was so grieved that she -took to eating the children of others. -Some Lamiæ are like the Sirens, and by -taking the form of lovely nymphs, beguile -luckless men to their destruction; -for example, an ecclesiastical legend, -savoring strongly of Boccaccio, tells -us how a Lamia charmed a monk as he -sat by the side of a lake one evening; -dawn came, and the monk was seen no -more, but some children swore to having -seen his hoary beard floating on the -waters of the lake.</p> - -<p>Dragons are common now in every -weird place, especially where those large -stoned Hellenic walls are standing, and -stories like those of Perseus, the Centaurs, -the Cyclops, &c., are common -among the peasants who speak of these -old remains as Τοῦ Δράκου τὸ σπίτι, the -Dragon’s house. In one fable we have -the exact story of Ulysses and Polyphemus. -One Spanos is the traveller, -ὁ Δράκος is Polyphemus, and the facts -are the same.</p> - -<p>The witches (στρίγλαι) of modern -folk-lore are supposed to be over a -hundred, and to be able to turn into -birds at will like the harpies of old; -they love the flesh of unbaptised babies, -and for this reason children wear charms, -as they do also against the evil eye -(βασκανεῖα). My host on the island of -Pholygandros most solemnly told me -how a person with the evil eye could -wither a fruit-tree by admiring it, and -on my looking sceptical, he quoted -several instances which had come under -his immediate notice. This is the ὀφθαλμὸς -βάσκανος of antiquity, the god Fascinus -of Latin mythology, whom Pliny -tells us was worshipped so strangely by -the Vestal Virgins.</p> - -<p>I witnessed a very sad case on the -island of Kimolos of a sailor who, in a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span> -storm, as he rounded the dreaded Cape -Malea on his return home, had been -struck, as they told me, by that mysterious -ghost-demon the Τελώνια; he was -kept in the village church all day, and -had been in there all night, whilst his -relatives were praying vehemently around -him for the return of his shattered intellect. -This τελώνια is a species of electricity, -and appears during storms on the -mastheads, which the Greek sailors personify -as birds of evil omen, which settle -on the masts with a view to destroy the -ship and drown the sailors. They have -words expressly for exorcising this phantom, -and sometimes they try to drive it -away by beating brass or shooting. In -Italy this is called the fire of St. Elmo, -and is evidently the same idea which in -ancient times was connected with the -Dioscouri.</p> - -<p>From these points it will be easily seen -how much that is old lives to-day. In -manners and customs and daily life the -peasant Greeks reproduce even more -that can be identified as ancient, but -this is apart from my present subject.—<cite>Macmillan’s -Magazine.</cite></p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="OUTWITTED" id="OUTWITTED">OUTWITTED.</a><br /> - -<small>A TALE OF THE ABRUZZI.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span></p> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<p>It was a warm afternoon in April, -and the sun was blazing hotly down upon -the wooded heights of the Abruzzi and -upon the marble cliff against which -nestles the little village of Palenella.</p> - -<p>The blue-green aloes were unfurling -their sharp-pointed leaves in the clefts -and crannies of the rocks above, and -every now and then the wild roses sent -a pink shower fluttering down to the flat -roofs below, where maize and wheat -were spread out to dry in the sun.</p> - -<p>Lucia Ceprano was sitting at the door -of her gray stone cottage this hot afternoon, -busily engaged in peeling and -splitting willow rods preparatory to -mending a certain dilapidated old basket -which lay on the ground beside her.</p> - -<p>The stony village street was silent, -and not a creature was visible but herself, -except, indeed, a few fowls which -were promenading in the sun, and some -little black pigs which lay sleeping with -outstretched legs in sundry dusty hollows.</p> - -<p>The fact was, that the whole population -of Palenella was gone to take part -in a procession in the little town of -Palene. Not a creature had stayed at -home but Lucia Ceprano; and no one -now was surprised at this or anything -else she took it into her head to do, for -the villagers had made up their minds -that she was “cracked.”</p> - -<p>Lucia had refused the wealthiest young<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span> -men in the district; Lucia owned property, -yet she worked as hard as if she -were poor; Lucia did not dance the -tarantella, was not merry, would not -have a lover, and never beat her mule, -even when he was as obstinate as only -a mule can be!</p> - -<p>Such was the indictment against her; -and in an out-of-the-way village like -Palenella, where every one was about -five hundred years behind the outside -world, any one of these eccentricities -would have been quite enough to make -people call her crazy.</p> - -<p>Then again, though she certainly was -beautiful, it was in a very different style -from her neighbors; indeed, she was of -quite a different type from what one -usually sees anywhere in the whole district, -as far South as Naples.</p> - -<p>The women in these parts are small, -agile, and graceful, with pretty little -dark brown faces, small, sharp noses, -pouting lips, and wild curly hair, almost -entirely covering their low foreheads. -They are light-hearted creatures, laughing -and chattering the whole day long; -and in character they are an odd mixture -of carelessness, shrewdness, passion, -cunning, and narrow-mindedness.</p> - -<p>Lucia, on the other hand, was well -grown and stately-looking; her face -was oval, and she had smooth black hair -and wonderful deep brown, tranquil eyes, -which seemed to look thoughtfully at -everything; and her mouth, though -well-formed and full-lipped, was firmly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span> -closed; she moved about in a dignified, -deliberate way, and she was reckoned -the most unsociable girl in the village, -for she never spoke a word more than -was actually necessary.</p> - -<p>The very fact of her being so unlike -other village girls, however, caused Lucia -to be quite the rage at one time. All -the young men for miles round were -crazy about her, and she had as many -offers as there were Sundays in the -year; for she had other attractions besides -her beauty. Every one knew that -besides the very tolerable property in -Palenella, which was all her own and -quite unencumbered, Lucia also possessed -10,000 lire, or something over -400<i>l.</i>, in the national bank of Rome, so -that for these parts she was a considerable -heiress.</p> - -<p>Lucia allowed her suitors to say their -say without interruption, and then raising -those calm, wonderful eyes, and -looking steadily at them for the space of -a second, she announced that she had -no intention of marrying.</p> - -<p>Things had gone on in this way from -Lucia’s fifteenth birthday for five years; -every Sunday and holiday some one -made her an offer, and every Sunday -and holiday some one was refused, -until she gave up answering at all, and -merely waved her lovers off with a gesture -of her hand, neither more nor less -than contemptuous.</p> - -<p>The young men had taken offence at -her behavior at last, and now revenged -themselves by pronouncing her cracked, -and leaving her to herself. All but one -of them at least did so, and he was the -son of a wealthy farmer, Pietro Antonio -by name, who lived higher up among -the mountains. Pietro was not so easily -to be got rid of as the rest, and, do -what she would, he followed her everywhere, -lying in wait for her at the fêtes -and processions, watching for her at -church and market, and persecuting her -to such an extent, now with pretty -speeches and entreaties, and now with -angry threats, that at last Lucia gave up -going to the fêtes, and did not even venture -to church except in the late evening, -when she could do so unobserved.</p> - -<p>For Pietro was a wild, passionate -youth, with something of the savage -about him, and as Lucia disliked him -even more than her other suitors, she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span> -had determined to stay at home this -afternoon for fear she should meet him -at Palene and be exposed to his vehement -importunities.</p> - -<p>She had therefore been alone for some -hours; but now she heard a distant -sound of voices, laughing and chattering. -The villagers were coming back, -and were climbing the rocky pathway -which led to their homes, and soon the -little street was all alive again.</p> - -<p>At the first sound of their approach, -Lucia had retreated into the cottage, -and set about warming up the polenta -for her mother; and as she stood in the -large kitchen, with the blaze from the -fire lighting up her grave, madonna-like -face, this personage came in.</p> - -<p>She was an old, grey-haired woman, -but there was an almost wild glare in -her small, sharp eyes, as she glanced -angrily at the girl.</p> - -<p>“What a shame it is!” she cried, -pulling off her red silk neck-kerchief and -kicking away a chair. “The idea of my -being the only woman to have an unmarried -daughter! Here I am pointed at -by every one! I’m the mother of the -‘crazy girl,’ forsooth, and I can’t show -my face anywhere!”</p> - -<p>“Bah!”said Lucia, without looking -up from the fire; “where can’t you -show your face?”</p> - -<p>“Why, neither in the village nor in -the whole country round,”returned the -old woman, passionately.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you trouble yourself about -any of their gossip, mother; and don’t -force me to marry, for I can’t take any -of the young men about here,” said -Lucia, calmly.</p> - -<p>“Forced you will be, sooner or -later,” returned her mother. “One of -them will cut off your hair, and then -you know you must marry him, whether -you like it or not,” she added dolefully.</p> - -<p>“Shame on the men here, then!” exclaimed -Lucia, with flaming eyes. -“Shame on any man who forces a -woman to marry him by such means! -lying in wait to cut off her hair, and -then making a show of it in the village -until the poor thing is obliged to marry -the thief, or she will be forever disgraced -and never get another husband! -Shame on men who win their wives in -this fashion!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, well! it has been the taming of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span> -a good many obstinate girls for all that, -and they are happy enough now. Look -at Emilia Mantori and Teresina,”continued -the mother; “they held out for -a couple of years, and then one fine day -they lost their plaits! They came back -from the fields with their hair cut short; -the boys hooted them down the street, -and three weeks later there were two -merry weddings, and now it is all as -right as can be!”</p> - -<p>“I hope that will never be my fate, -mother,”said Lucia; “never!” and she -clenched her brown hand with its long, -shapely fingers, while all the blood left -her lips. “If people behave like brigands, -they may expect to be treated like -brigands. Any one who lays a finger -on my hair will have to look out for -himself, as all the ruffians about here -know full well, and so they keep their -distance.”</p> - -<p>“Our lads are not ruffians; they may -be a little wild, but there are some good -fellows among them.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know a single one, then, and -I won’t marry a soul here. If ever I -am married, it shall not be to a man -who will beat me and make me work -just as if I were a mule; and you know -very well that is what all the men do -here in the Abruzzi, so why do you go -on complaining and fault-finding? I -tell you what will be the end of it, if -you go on scolding and worrying, you -will drive me away, and I shall go to -Rome and open some sort of little -shop—”</p> - -<p>“And leave your mother here in -poverty and misery!”</p> - -<p>“You are not poor, mother, for you -can stay here as long as you live, and -there is quite enough to keep you well, -without your having to work hard. Besides, -I don’t want to leave you at all, -as long as you don’t want to force me -into a marriage I hate!”</p> - -<p>“Very well, I won’t, then,”said the -old woman. “Stay as you are, since -you will have your own way.”</p> - -<p>By this time the sun was almost setting, -and a flood of red-gold light was -pouring in through the open door; the -mountains were all bathed in purple -vapor, and the still warm evening air -was fragrant with the scent of roses, -geraniums, and lavender.</p> - -<p>The mother and daughter had eaten<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span> -their supper in silence, and Lucia had -just risen to take away the things, when -a shadow fell across the threshold, and -on Lucia’s looking up, a bold voice -said, “Good evening, signorina.”</p> - -<p>The speaker was a fine young man -wearing a blue velvet jacket, high-crowned -hat, and a large woollen scarf, -which was knotted round his waist, and -he was looking passionately at Lucia -with his piercing, coal-black eyes.</p> - -<p>“Do you want to see my mother?” -asked Lucia, in anything but an encouraging -manner.</p> - -<p>“No; I want to see you, signorina,” -answered the young man, with much -polite suavity, taking off his hat as he -spoke.</p> - -<p>“If you are come to say the same as -before, Pietro Antonio, you may spare -yourself the trouble,” said Lucia, clearly -and firmly.</p> - -<p>“Then you won’t let me come into -your house, Lucia Ceprano?” asked the -young man, with a sudden contraction -of his thin-lipped mouth, and a look in -his eyes not unlike that of an enraged -tiger.</p> - -<p>“The door is open, you can come -in,” said Lucia, calmly, “and you can -talk to my mother if you like;” and -with that she left the room by the back-door, -and went out into the little garden -which was fenced round with aloe -bushes.</p> - -<p>Meantime Pietro stepped into the cottage, -and throwing his hat upon the -table, sat down opposite the old woman, -saying, “You don’t seem to have made -much progress, Mother Ceprano.”</p> - -<p>“You can see for yourself,”said she, -in a low voice.</p> - -<p>“Then she will soon be off to Rome, -and you will have to work like the rest,” -said the young man, without any apparent -malice, “for everything here belongs -to her. It was her father’s property, -I know, and settled on her.”</p> - -<p>“She will let me have it,”said the -old woman, dejectedly.</p> - -<p>“But she won’t go on doing all the -work for you! She works for you both -now; and then there’s the interest of -her money; of course she will want that -for herself when she is in Rome,” continued -the young man, casting a sharp -sidelong glance at the old woman as he -spoke.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</span> “Yes, your comfortable, easy-going -life will be quite at an end, mother, -unless—but perhaps she is going to take -you with her?” inquired Pietro, in a tone -of much sympathy.</p> - -<p>“I’m sure I don’t know; but she -was saying only this very day again that -go she would, and I believe she will.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!”returned the young man, his -lips working with suppressed passion, -“then you will just have to hire a couple -of strong women to do your field work—that’s -all!”</p> - -<p>“You know very well there’s not land -enough to keep three people,”retorted -the mother, angrily.</p> - -<p>“Then keep the girl!” said Pietro, -lightly.</p> - -<p>“Keep her! keep her! it’s easy talking; -pray, can <em>you</em> keep her, Pietro -Antonio?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I can, if you will help me,” -said the young man, softly.</p> - -<p>He rose from his seat, and going to -the back-door, peered out into the garden. -But Lucia was not there. No -doubt, thought he to himself, she had -gone out somewhere to avoid the chance -of encountering him again. At all -events, she was safe out of the way; and -closing the door again, he drew his chair -nearer to the old woman, and said in a -low tone, “Look here, mother, I can -force her to stay here. She wouldn’t -be the first girl who found herself -obliged to marry the man who wanted -her! You know what I mean; and -though it would be a real pity to spoil -her hair, such beautiful hair as it is, -too—still—”</p> - -<p>“And what if she were to stab you, -Pietro? You don’t know what she is,” -and the old woman looked uneasily at -the floor.</p> - -<p>“It will be your business to take care -that she can’t do anything of the kind. -Take her knife away when she is asleep, -hide me in the garden and let me in -when it is all safe. When she wakes up -again the plait will be mine, and then -we shall be all right.”</p> - -<p>“She will turn me out of the house -when she knows, and I shall be worse -off than ever,”returned Mother -Ceprano, anxiously.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span></p> -<p>“I shall be there to look after you, -shan’t I? and won’t it all be for her -own happiness? You know I am the -richest fellow in the whole district, and -there isn’t another girl who would refuse -me. You know yourself she -couldn’t make a better match, and her -refusing me is nothing but a whim; and -if you give way to her, she will end by -being an old maid herself, and making -you into a common working woman—so -there!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know that; it’s all true -enough, and it would be a real blessing -for us all—for you and me and herself—if -she would have you; but I say you -don’t know her, Pietro, you don’t know -her, and I am certain some mischief will -come of it.”</p> - -<p>“Bah! that’s all talk—a woman indeed—that -<em>would</em> be a new idea,” said -Pietro, with a contemptuous laugh. -“I’ll soon tame her! The prouder and -wilder they are to begin with, the tamer -and more gentle they are afterwards. -When I carry her plait through the -streets—and that’s what I will do if she -makes any more fuss—she will follow -me like a lamb, see if she won’t! -There has never been a girl in these -parts yet who has been disgraced in this -way without being thankful to marry -the only man who could give her back -her good name.”</p> - -<p>“Ay,”interposed the mother, in a -frightened tone, “but then she is not -like other girls. You are strong and -clever, and thought a great deal of, and -you are the chief man in the place for -miles round; but where is the good of -all that if she hates you, and perhaps -does you some injury, and turns me out -of doors?”</p> - -<p>“She <em>doesn’t</em> hate me, it’s only her -childish pride; I know all about that, -and it does not trouble me a bit,”returned -Pietro, coolly. “You know I -have promised to settle so much a year -upon you if she marries me, and I will -engage that you shall stay here and have -the use of the cottage and the land rent-free, -and be able to keep a servant. -There! So now, please to make up -your mind at once, mother. Will you -or won’t you? yes or no?”</p> - -<p>“I can’t—I daren’t.”</p> - -<p>“Then be poor, as poor as the -poorest in the place! Work is wholesome; -those who work long, live long! -Good-bye, Mother Ceprano,” said the -young man, scornfully, moving to the -door as he spoke.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span></p> - -<p>“Stay!” cried the old woman, -hoarsely. “I’ll do it.”</p> - -<p>“When?”asked Pietro, still standing -in the doorway.</p> - -<p>“I will send you a message when I -think there is a good chance. I shall -only say that I want you to come and -speak to me, and then you can come -about eleven o’clock that night.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, it’s settled, mind. Be -careful, don’t gossip, and, above all, -keep your word.”</p> - -<p>“I shall keep my word,” said old -Mother Ceprano, gloomily, as she accompanied -Pietro to the door; and as -she went back into the now dark kitchen, -she muttered, “She can’t make a -better match; he is rich, very rich, and -he is looked up to, and he is handsome, -and there are others worse than he. -She will be all right, and what he says -is quite true; it is only a whim.”</p> - - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<p>Early the next morning, before her -mother was astir, Lucia was up and -busy in the yard; and after fetching the -mule from his stable and loading him -with a couple of large flat baskets full -of onions, she mounted him herself, and -trotted off towards Palene.</p> - -<p>Lucia’s dress was like that of the -other peasant women, and consisted of -a red silk kerchief tied closely over the -head; another of yellow, which covered -her shoulders, was crossed over her -chest and tied behind; and a green -woollen gown. Her beautiful black -hair was smoothly braided in one long -thick plait, which hung down her back. -So far there was nothing remarkable -about her costume; but she also wore -what was peculiar to herself, a leather -belt with a metal sheath and a large gardening -knife stuck in it. She kept her -hand almost constantly upon this weapon, -a circumstance which gave her a -rather savage Amazon-like appearance, -strangely at variance with her calm -madonna face, and smooth hair.</p> - -<p>But as the mule jogged on through -the fresh morning air, and Lucia -watched the golden sunlight playing on -the rocks above and the fields below, -her thoughts were anything but savage, -for she was saying to herself,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span> “Who -would think that human beings could -be so wicked when one sees how beautiful -and peaceful, and happy everything -is? They don’t notice it, for they are -like animals still; they live like wild -beasts. It is different in towns; it is -better even in Palene, but how very -different it must be in Rome, or Florence, -or Naples! There, so I have -read, people are good and gentle, and -forgiving. They don’t love like wolves -and hate like tigers. I know just one -man myself, but then he is a foreigner, -and they would be certain to kill him if -I married him. Couldn’t we escape -to Rome?” pursued the maiden thoughtfully, -bending her body down over the -mule. “But no,” she went on, “they -would find him out even in Rome, and -one fine day he would be found dead -and I should have murdered him.”</p> - -<p>The mule, finding that his mistress was -not paying any heed to him, now stood -quite still and put down his head to crop -a few mouthfuls of grass. But this -roused Lucia from her dreams, and -taking hold of the reins and uttering a -loud “Aia!” she put him to a quicker -pace, and in a few minutes more they -had reached the end of their journey.</p> - -<p>The little town of Palene consists of -three narrow streets, a small market-place, -a municipal building, and a tolerably -large and handsome church. Facing -the market-place are two houses -rather superior to the rest, which are -painted pink and blue, and have bright -green blinds. One of the two, at the -time of which we are writing, was a shop -kept by a man named Lugeno, who -called himself a “general-dealer, barber, -coffee-house and tavern keeper.” -In front of the shop stood a table and -four chairs, while baskets of fruit and -vegetables stood about the entrance, -and over the door hung half-a-dozen -cages containing canary birds.</p> - -<p>The owner of this miscellaneous business, -Don Ernano Lugeno, was standing -at his shop-door enjoying the fine -spring air, and comfortably smoking a -short meerschaum, as Lucia came up on -her mule. Now people in Palene do -not smoke meerschaums, so this circumstance -alone was enough to suggest the -idea of his being a foreigner, and the -impression was only confirmed by a -glance at the man’s face and figure. -With his broad shoulders, yellow hair, -fresh complexion, golden beard, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span> -bright, deep-blue eyes, Don Lugeno was -the perfect type of the northern giant, in -spite of his Italian name. In truth his -real name was Hermann Lütgens, and -he was a native of Pomerania, but some -accident had brought him to Italy when -a boy, and there he had remained ever -since. He was now about thirty, and -for the last ten years he had been in business -at Palene; but in spite of the -numerous strings to his bow, already -mentioned, he did not get on very well, -and in fact, made but a very poor -living. Yet he was very industrious, -and in addition to selling green-grocery, -singing-birds, coffee and wine, he repaired -watches, mended tables and -chairs, put in window panes and painted -beautiful sign-boards; so that he was -looked upon as quite indispensable in -all times of need, and was highly popular -with everybody for his cheerful, -obliging temper, and not less for his -moderate charges. Still Don Lugeno -did not prosper, and the reason was that -he had one darling passion; he was an -ardent sportsman, and every now and -then he would disappear for two or three -days into the woods, quite forgetting his -business and his customers; and when -at length he came home looking dishevelled -and half wild, he seldom -brought with him more than a lean hare, -a small marten, or a miserable quail. -In spite of his small success, however, -Don Lugeno could not break himself of -his love of sport, and it was this which -kept him a poor man.</p> - -<p>Still, in spite of his poverty, all the -women in the place, whether old or -young, had a very kind feeling for Don -Ernano, as he was called (all the people -in the place being usually known by -their Christian names), and, if he had -been so inclined, he might several times -have made such a match as would have -raised him at once to a position of ease -and comfort. But he was not inclined -to give up his liberty, or so it seemed, -and the men liked him all the better, for -being, as they believed, a woman-hater.</p> - -<p>Whether, however, he really was the -inveterate woman-hater he was supposed -to be might reasonably have been -doubted by any one who had chanced to -observe how instantly his face lighted -up when Lucia and her mule turned the -corner into the market-place. They<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span> -were coming to him, of course, for Lucia -supplied his shop with vegetables, and -had done so for years. He had known -her and dealt with her ever since her -childhood, and now that she was a -woman, and a beautiful woman into the -bargain, it had more than once crossed -his mind that, if he could afford to -marry, there was no one in the whole -neighborhood whom he should like so -well to call his wife as Lucia Ceprano. -Well as he knew her, however, he was -far too shy, and far too humble to hint -at such an idea, for Lucia was an heiress—a -great heiress for those parts, and -he—how could he have the face to ask -her to marry a poor man like himself, -when she might have the choice of all -the young men for miles round? Still, -though he drove the thought away as -often as it rose, it only returned again, -and each time, somehow, it looked more -fascinating than before. If only he -were better off, if only he could get -away from Palene to some more civilised -place and ask Lucia to go with him, -he felt as if he could do anything, even -give up his sporting tastes, and settle -down steadily. But it was of no use -thinking of such a thing; for even if all -the other difficulties were disposed of, -what right had he to suppose that she -cared a straw about him, except as a good -customer for her garden produce? No, -the idea must be put away; and to assist -him in getting rid of it, Don Ernano -went out for two or three days’ shooting, -and when he came back he was -poorer, and his home looked more -desolate than ever, and the first thought -which entered his mind, as he crossed -the threshold, was, “How different it -would be if Lucia were here to see after -things!”</p> - -<p>Altogether, therefore, the poor Don’s -expeditions were not very successful, -and on this particular morning he was -feeling a little dejected in spite of his -cheerful looks. But the mule stopped -at the shop, and as Lucia sprang lightly -down, he went forward with a smiling -greeting to help her unfasten the heavy -baskets.</p> - -<p>“Are you quite well, Don Ernano?” -asked Lucia, looking up at him with -her deep brown eyes. Then, as the -giant blushed and turned away to hide -his confusion, she added, quickly, for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span> -she pitied him for his shyness, “Here -are the onions you wanted; beautiful -large ones, aren’t they? but can you use -so many?”</p> - -<p>Don Ernano had apparently not quite -recovered his composure, for he pulled -his ear for a moment or two without -speaking, and then said slowly, “I -could use them all, certainly, but—well—the -fact is, signorina, I haven’t much -ready money just now.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! I know,”said Lucia, calmly; -“Don Ernano has been out shooting -again.”</p> - -<p>“The signorina knows?”said Don -Ernano, looking at the beautiful girl in -amazement.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know, and I have been -thinking why it is that you don’t get -rich,” pursued Lucia, without a trace -of coquetry in her manner. “You are -clever and handy, you don’t gamble and -you don’t drink; why, you might be the -foremost man in the town, and yet you -don’t get a step farther. I have come -to the conclusion that it is the shooting -which is at the bottom of it.”</p> - -<p>Don Ernano gazed more and more -earnestly at the girl as she spoke, and -the sympathy which he read in her face -went to his very heart. But he only -pulled his ear again, and said rather -sheepishly, “The signorina may be -right, but it is the only pleasure I have -in the world. What am I to do? It is -so dreary at home, and sometimes I get -bored almost to death.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! you ought to marry, Don -Ernano,”said Lucia, simply, still busying -herself with the onions. “If you -had a wife you would have a real home -and some one to work for.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,”returned the light-haired -giant, “marry! it is easy to say, but -who would have me, a penniless foreigner? -I have thought about it now -and then; but it is a hard matter for a -man like me to get a good wife.”</p> - -<p>“I should not think that,”said Lucia, -reflectively, looking at him again as she -spoke, for they were old acquaintances -these two, and on intimate terms—“I -should not think that. You see I have -known you ever since I was a little girl, -and I know you are good and clever. -I dare say, the truth is you like your liberty.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe,”returned Don Ernano;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span> -and then with sudden gravity he added, -“but maybe also the right one has not -yet come my way.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! then you are fastidious; I -understand. Now, Don Ernano, what -sort of wife do you want, I wonder? -I am quite curious to know.”</p> - -<p>“What sort?” repeated the Don, -again pulling at his ear, and then adding, -in a low tone, “Well, one like yourself, -signorina.”</p> - -<p>“Me! you are joking!”returned -Lucia, with an attempt at a laugh; -“why, I am only a small farmer’s -daughter.”</p> - -<p>“My father was less than a small -farmer. He was an iron-worker, and -emigrated first to Austria and then to -Italy; so you see you are above me, -even if I were not as poor as a rat. -And as you are so far above me, there -is no harm in my saying that a wife like -you is just what would suit me, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Don Ernano, can you make any use -of the onions?” interrupted Lucia, in a -frightened tone, without venturing to -raise her eyes from the ground.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, signorina, if you don’t -mind leaving them and letting me settle -with you at the end of the month.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll trust you,”replied Lucia, hurriedly -emptying the baskets; and with a -hasty “good-bye,” she reseated herself -on the mule and trotted off again to -Palenella, leaving Don Ernano half -afraid that he had managed to offend -her.</p> - - -<h3>III.</h3> - -<p>As soon as Lucia was well out of the -little town, she seemed suddenly to discover -that she had plenty of time to -spare, for she let the mule walk on as -slowly as he pleased, while she herself -gazed at the golden hedge of broom -which bordered the road, as if she were -intent on counting its million blossoms.</p> - -<p>Travelling at this pace, it was noon -before she reached the village; but instead -of receiving her with reproaches -for her long absence, as would usually -have been the case, her mother spoke -so pleasantly, that in spite of her absence -of mind, Lucia could not help -being struck by it.</p> - -<p>She knew how obstinately bent her -mother was on getting her married, and -she began to feel suspicious and alarmed.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span> -“Pietro was here a long time yesterday,” -she suddenly thought to herself; “there -is something in the wind, no doubt.” -And when evening came, without saying -a word to any one, Lucia dragged -her bed from its place beside her mother’s -in the large kitchen, and put it in -a little store-room, with a heavy iron door -and a grated window.</p> - -<p>“Is it possible she can have overheard -what we were saying?” thought the old -woman, as she watched her daughter’s -proceedings in silent dread. But no, -that was out of the question, Lucia had -spent nearly the whole time of Pietro’s -visit in the church, for she herself had -met her there later. “It is only another -of her whims,” she went on, trying to -comfort herself, “and it will be easy -to spoil the lock of the door some night -before she goes to bed. Pietro Antonio -shall not be thwarted, if I can help it.” -And having thus made up her mind, she -too went to bed; but she was still much -perturbed about Lucia’s odd behavior, -and she began to fear that the girl would -suddenly take herself off to Rome and -so escape out of her clutches. The -more she thought of it, the more eager -she grew to bring about the marriage -with Pietro without any further loss of -time. “To-morrow she will be hard at -work all day,” mused the old woman; -“she will be tired out and sleep soundly. -I don’t know that there is likely to -be a better opportunity.”</p> - -<p>All through the night Lucia’s mother -lay wide awake, tossing to and fro and -revolving her cruel plans in her mind. -Early in the morning she sent the previously -agreed message to Pietro Antonio, -and when evening came she put a -stone in the lock of the door, and -thought she had made all safe.</p> - -<p>Lucia went to her room that night -tired out with her day’s work, as her -mother had expected; but she was not -too tired to notice that there was something -amiss with the door. She tried it -over and over again, but it was all in -vain, the lock would not act, and she -gave it up in despair.</p> - -<p>She guessed at once what it meant, -and for a moment she stood still, trembling -and almost gasping for breath; -but in another moment she had recovered -herself, and made up her mind what to -do.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span></p> - -<p>She put out the lamp and laid down -on the bed just as she was, without undressing; -but after lying there quite -still for about an hour she rose again, -slipped quietly out to the stable, fetched -a great wood-cutter’s axe, and hurried -noiselessly back to her chamber.</p> - -<p>Once more she lay down, keeping her -eyes wide open, listening with all her -might, and hardly daring to breathe.</p> - -<p>Presently she heard the sound of -whispering, then there was a light step -in the yard, and in the house.</p> - -<p>One bright ray of moonlight shone -through the grated window and made a -pattern of black and white bars on one -patch of the stone floor, but otherwise -the room was quite dark, and Lucia now -got up and stationed herself in the -darkest corner of the room. But all -remained quite quiet for nearly another -hour, every moment of which seemed a -century to the poor girl.</p> - -<p>At the end of this time, a faint light -appeared through the crack of the door, -which was gently pushed open, and then -appeared her mother holding a lamp and -followed by Pietro Antonio, who had a -large pair of vine-shears in his hand.</p> - -<p>As they entered, Lucia suddenly advanced -from her corner with the axe uplifted. -“Come here, you coward, if -you dare,” she cried to the young man, -who stood there speechless, motionless, -and as white as death from surprise and -fright.</p> - -<p>He looked at the pale-faced girl, -looked at the uplifted axe and her strong -arms, and slowly moved away without -uttering a word, followed by the old -woman, who was shaking all over to -such a degree that she could hardly -stand, while her teeth chattered loud -enough to be heard.</p> - -<p>They were gone! and all was still -again; but Lucia spent the rest of the -night sitting on the bed-side, with her -beautiful head resting against the hard -cold stone wall, without venturing to -close her eyes. In the morning she neither -spoke to her mother nor prepared -the breakfast as was her custom, and -kept her mouth more tightly closed than -ever.</p> - -<p>When she had washed and dressed, -and plaited her hair more carefully than -usual, she brought out the mule, saddled -and bridled him; but to her mothe<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span>r’s -immense astonishment, instead of proceeding -to load him with vegetables, she -just mounted and rode away in the -direction of Palene.</p> - -<p>The mule trotted along merrily and -quickly, but as it was still very early, -Lucia stopped him after a while and -allowed him to graze, while she got -down and lay on the grass, resting her -weary head on her hand and gazing into -the distance with her large brown eyes. -Little by little her pale face brightened, -and began to lose the hard look it had -worn since the previous night. She even -began to smile a little and looked almost -happy. At last some pleasant thought -seemed to strike her, for she actually -laughed and blushed, and then getting -up and calling her mule, she went on -her way.</p> - -<p>In little more than half an hour she -was again standing before Don Ernano’s -shop in the market-place.</p> - -<p>“Ah, signorina, you are early indeed -to-day,” he began; then glancing at the -unloaded mule, he went on, “you want -the onions back, no doubt? I was afraid -Mother Ceprano——”</p> - -<p>“I did not come about that,”replied -Lucia abruptly, with an odd shy smile. -“I came to-day to ask your services as -hair-dresser; you cut and dress hair, I -know. Will you be so good as to cut -off my hair?”</p> - -<p>“What, signorina!”cried the horrified -barber, “cut off your beautiful -hair! No, you don’t mean it, I couldn’t -have the heart!”</p> - -<p>“Are you a barber, Don Ernano?” -asked Lucia with the gravity and firmness -peculiar to her.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is on the sign-board, and I -cut anybody’s hair when I am asked, but—but—do -you want to sell your beautiful -plait?” he asked, with quite a sad -expression in his kind eyes.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t want to sell it, but I -want it cut off, and I have come to -ask you to do it for me,” answered -Lucia firmly and decidedly.</p> - -<p>“Must I really?” said Don Ernano, -feeling a little cast down by the girl’s -energetic tone and manner.</p> - -<p>“Yes—you must—if you will,” was -her rather odd answer, and therewith -she hurried into the shop.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span></p> -<p>“If you knew how it grieved me!” -began the barber again. “Is it a vow, -signorina?”</p> - -<p>“Something of the sort, but it is -more than that to me,”was the short -answer.</p> - -<p>“Then you have quite made up your -mind?” he ventured to ask once more.</p> - -<p>“Will you do it or will you not, -Don Ernano?” asked Lucia as if she -were much offended and would leave -the shop.</p> - -<p>“Well—if it really must be done—please -to sit down, signorina,” said the -barber, moving reluctantly to the cupboard -in which he kept his implements.</p> - -<p>Just at this moment two men came -into the shop, and said with a sly -glance at his fair customer, “You’re -engaged, Don Ernano?”</p> - -<p>“At your service in a moment, gentlemen,” -he answered; then bending -over Lucia and taking her great plait, -which was almost as thick as her arm, -in his hand, he said in a low tone, “You -will have just a little bit left?”</p> - -<p>“No, cut it off close,”answered Lucia -in a whisper.</p> - -<p>Don Ernano gently put her head in -the right position; and Lucia, looking -calmly and cheerfully into the little glass -before her, could see with what a dismal -countenance the light-haired giant went -about his task, which was no such easy -one, and took some minutes to accomplish. -It was done at last, however, -and the barber held the severed plait -in his hands, his face wearing a very -troubled expression.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, gentlemen,” said -Lucia, rising and bowing to the two -men; “good morning, Don Ernano!” -and before he had recovered from his -astonishment, Lucia was out of the shop -and trotting away on her mule, leaving -him to look after her and shake his -head in perplexity, while he still held -the beautifully plaited tail of hair in -his hands.</p> - -<p>“A very pretty customer, signor!” -said his visitors, who had not heard all -that had passed.</p> - -<p>“A lovely girl,” answered Don Ernano -thoughtfully, “but strange, very -strange, I can’t make her out.”</p> - -<p>“Have you bought the plait?”they -asked.</p> - -<p>The barber shook his head gravely.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span></p> - -<p>“What then?” they asked with curiosity.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” was the short answer, -as the barber made hurried preparations -for shaving his customers.</p> - -<p>He was anything but nervous in a -general way, but to-day his hand trembled -so much that he would certainly -have performed his duties very clumsily -if he had not made a great effort to recover -his self-command.</p> - -<p>“What does it mean?” he muttered, -when he found himself once more alone. -“What am I to do with it? I wonder -whether it is a vow; I know the women -about here do make strange vows sometimes; -but she is so clever and sensible -and not at all superstitious.”</p> - -<p>Don Ernano thought over the affair -for some time, but as he could not -arrive at any conclusion, he locked the -plait of hair up in his cupboard, and -spent the next few hours in a rather -uncomfortable state of mind, feeling that -he was involved against his will in a -matter which he did not understand.</p> - - -<h3>IV.</h3> - -<p>Lucia reached Palenella again about -midday, and rode into the village holding -in her hand the kerchief she usually -wore on her head, a circumstance which -of itself would have been enough to -attract attention, since uncovered heads -were rarely seen in the village. But, -as the absence of the kerchief revealed -the fact that her heavy plait had disappeared -leaving only a short, stubbly -stump to show where once it had been, -it was not many minutes before the -whole village was exclaiming, “Lucia’s -hair has been cut off!”</p> - -<p>The news had spread like wild fire -even before Lucia reached her own door, -and was speedily confirmed, if confirmation -were needed, by the fearful outburst -of weeping and wailing with which -Mother Ceprano received her disfigured -daughter.</p> - -<p>The old woman wrung her hands, -tore her hair, uttered maledictions, -screamed and howled so wildly that -she was heard even in the farthermost -houses, and the whole population speedily -collected round the house.</p> - -<p>Lucia had not yet dismounted, and -there she now sat on the mule, looking -perfectly calm and collected, while<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span> -the children danced round her mocking -and jeering, and the men and women -whispered and gazed in astonishment.</p> - -<p>It must be confessed that the villagers’ -first feeling was one of hearty -satisfaction in the proud Lucia’s humiliation. -But they quite expected to -see some young man appear waving the -plait in triumph, and when they found -this did not happen, their gratification -gave way to wrath and indignation -against the unknown person who had -done the deed. The pride of the whole -community was hurt, and wild voices -were heard shouting, “Whoever it was -he shall not go unpunished! A girl of -our village—he has insulted us all, every -one—he shall make it good or pay -for it with his life!”</p> - -<p>The men doubled their fists and raised -their arms, uttering savage threats and -imprecations, as they pressed round -Lucia who sat like a statue, watching -the growing excitement and tumult with -intense interest.</p> - -<p>“Who was it? who did it?” they -shouted to her from all sides. “Do -you know him? Who has dared to -insult you and all of us? You <em>must</em> -say who it is!” were the cries uttered -in various tones by a hundred angry -men and women.</p> - -<p>“He must marry you, he must, or he -shall die! Who was it? who?”</p> - -<p>“A man in Palene,”answered Lucia -in a clear voice.</p> - -<p>“Palene? he shall die if he won’t -do his duty. But what is his name?”</p> - -<p>“Don Ernano!”</p> - -<p>“What, he? a foreigner! the light-haired -man! the sportsman!” cried -several voices.</p> - -<p>“It’s all the same,” screamed others, -“it’s just the same. It would make no -difference if he were a townsman—he -shall die if he won’t do you justice -and restore you to honor; yes, he -shall die by our hands,” cried all, old -and young, with angry, flashing eyes.</p> - -<p>“He must give the village satisfaction -at once,” cried one who had taken -the lead; “I will go to him now. -Take your knives, my men, and say -who’ll go with me?”</p> - -<p>“I! I!”cried at least twenty voices -and a number of men separated from the -rest and started off at a rapid pace along -the road to Palene.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span></p> - -<p>Lucia now dismounted, led the mule -into his stable and retreated to her dismal -little room out of her mother’s -way. Here she sat down quite exhausted -on the only chair it contained, -and drew a deep breath.</p> - -<p>“Now no one can kill him for marrying -me, for they will make him,” she -said softly to herself, “and he won’t -refuse. He likes me, I’m sure of that -now, and Pietro Antonio won’t dare to -touch him, for he would have the whole -village against him.”</p> - -<p>It was about an hour after all this -commotion that the first of the Palenella -peasants entered Don Ernano’s wineshop -and called for a tumbler of wine. -In a few seconds more another came -in, and then a third, and before the -barber knew where he was, his room -was filled with peasants, all of whom -carried knives in their gay-colored -sashes, and looked very menacing.</p> - -<p>Don Lugeno, though peaceably disposed, -was a brave man enough, but -he could not help feeling somewhat -aghast on the present occasion, for -there was evidently something strange -about his visitors.</p> - -<p>“Don Ernano,” began the spokesman, -“you have cut off the plait of -one of our girls—eh? is it so?”</p> - -<p>“Yes!”returned the barber with -some embarrassment, but without the -slightest suspicion of what was meant, -or what the question boded.</p> - -<p>“Have you the plait?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have.”</p> - -<p>“Then please to show it to us.”</p> - -<p>The barber went and fetched it from -the cupboard and held it up, saying, -“Here it is.”</p> - -<p>“You know the girl?”they inquired -further.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is Lucia Ceprano; I have -known her a long time.”</p> - -<p>“Good! Will you marry her?”inquired -the leader suddenly stepping up -to the barber.</p> - -<p>“<em>Marry</em>—Lucia Ceprano?” exclaimed -Don Ernano quite taken a-back.</p> - -<p>“Will you?” and a dozen large -knives flashed into the air, while in an -instant the men had closed the entrance -into the shop, surrounded the terrified -owner and driven him into a corner.</p> - -<p>“Yes or no?” said they in suppressed -tones.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span></p> - -<p>Lugeno looked from one to the other -and tried to collect himself. He saw -plainly enough that it was no laughing -matter, for the men were looking at him -with an expression of deadly hatred in -their eyes, and they looked so sullen and -determined that he felt he had never before -been so immediately face to face with -death. He could hardly breathe, but he -struggled to say, “Only tell me——”</p> - -<p>“Still, man,”whispered the ringleader; -“no shirking, and no unnecessary -words. Answer me; will you marry -Lucia Ceprano of Palenella, whose plait -you have cut off, or not? Say you will, -now, this instant, without any humbug, -or in two minutes you are a dead man, -as sure as we all stand here!”</p> - -<p>A gleam of joy and relief came into -Don Ernano’s eyes; he breathed more -freely, and wiping his forehead, said with -a smile, “Why, of course I will, my men, -with all my heart, if she will have me.”</p> - -<p>“She must!”was the rejoinder, spoken -in tones of as much determination as -before. “Then you swear, here before -us, to marry Lucia, as soon as possible, -at all events within the month, and you -will be married in our church, by our -priest?”</p> - -<p>“I swear it,”said the barber with -great alacrity.</p> - -<p>“That’s well; and you have acted -wisely, master, let me tell you, for you -would not have left your shop alive otherwise!”</p> - -<p>Thereupon the men put up their -knives, ordered some wine, each separately -drank to the health of the still bewildered -Don Ernano, bade him a polite -farewell, and returned to the village. -The evening was not far advanced when -they reached Palenella, and going -straight to Mother Ceprano’s house, they -found her still lamenting and vituperating -the rascal who had done the evil -deed, while Lucia was sitting contentedly -at the table eating her supper with a good -appetite.</p> - -<p>“We have good news for you, Lucia,” -cried a dozen voices;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span> “he’ll marry you. -He has solemnly sworn to marry you -within the month. You may be quite -easy about it, for he will do all that is -right by you, and he will give us satisfaction. -He is a clever man, much respected, -and as good as anyone in the -village.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, my friends, I am quite -satisfied. You have done me a good turn -and I’ll never forget it,”said Lucia, -looking positively radiant with happiness.</p> - -<p>That night the village was a long time -in settling down to its usual state of -quietness; for the men felt they had -achieved a grand victory and could do no -less than celebrate it, little guessing, of -course, that they had been outwitted by -a girl, and that so far from being the victors -they had actually been defeated, and -had had their own weapons turned -against them.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, in spite of her happiness, -Lucia was feeling a little uneasy as to -the way in which Don Lugeno might -view her conduct, and very early in the -morning she was in the shop again. So -early was she, indeed, that he did not -hear her enter, as he was busy with his -coffee in the kitchen.</p> - -<p>“Don Ernano,” began Lucia in a -humble, tremulous tone, “can you forgive -me?”</p> - -<p>The barber turned round like a flash -of lightning.</p> - -<p>“Lucia! Lucia!” he exclaimed joyously; -“but, my dear girl, do for mercy’s -sake tell me what it all means. Is it -true? Am I really to marry you?”</p> - -<p>“Do you mind very much, signore? -I thought—I fancied—”said poor Lucia, -trembling, and panting for breath.</p> - -<p>“Mind! Ah, signorina, it is not that; -I am only too happy to think I am to -have such a dear, good, beautiful wife,” -said Lugeno consolingly, and his manner -was so hearty as to leave no room for -doubt as to his sincerity. “My dearest -girl, don’t cry; this happiness has come -upon me like a—like a thunder-bolt. -You’re the very wife I should have chosen -above all others; but I don’t understand -what has happened, or how it has -all come about. Why, I have been -forced to accept happiness such as I -dared not even dream of at the point of -twenty knives! How is it, dear signorina? -And why did you make me cut -off your plait?”</p> - -<p>Don Ernano spoke so kindly and -pleasantly that Lucia had soon dried her -tears, and now looking up at him with a -beaming face, she said,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span> “I will tell you -all about it, Don Ernano. You see I -was obliged to do as I did, or you could -not have married me without incurring -the vengeance of that wicked Pietro who -is very angry at my refusing him. Now -you are under the protection of the whole -village, and he will take good care not -to come in your way.”</p> - -<p>Then Lucia went on to tell her lover -all the ins and outs of the affair, and -how, after Pietro’s attempt two nights -ago, she had made up her mind to get -him to cut off her hair rather than let -anyone else do so.</p> - -<p>“And now will you forgive me?” she -asked in a gentle, shame faced tone.</p> - -<p>“Forgive? I’ll thank you with all -my heart, you dear, brave, clever girl. -I declare you are wiser and cleverer than -the wisest lawyer,” and drawing the tall, -handsome village maiden to him, he gave -her a long kiss, which was cordially returned.</p> - -<p>“What a pity about your beautiful -hair! I wish it were grown again,” said -he, tenderly stroking his bride’s close-cropped -head.</p> - -<p>“Well, you are a hair-dresser, so you -must see what you can do,” said Lucia; -“but I have made a good exchange. -Where is the girl who would not sacrifice -the finest head of hair for a good husband, -especially,” she added shyly, -“when the lover himself cut it off?”</p> - -<p>While Lucia and Don Ernano were -thus pleasantly engaged, there had been -a great disturbance at Palenella. Pietro -Antonio, having just heard all that had -happened, had hurried to the village in -a furious passion. First he poured out -his wrath on the peasants for their stupidity, -and then tried to set them against -the barber, whom he had always hated, -and now of course detested more than -ever. He told the peasants that he was -a crafty rascal, that he and the girl understood -one another, and had acted in -concert, and that he only wanted her -money.</p> - -<p>But he soon found that this would not -do. The villagers had no mind to be -robbed of their triumph, and were quite -certain they understood the matter better -than he did, and they used such forcible -arguments to convince Pietro of the justice -of their views, that he retired to his -bed for a fortnight, and after that, not -only gave Palenella a very wide berth, -but soon left the district and went to -Naples.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span></p> - -<p>Mother Ceprano behaved in a most -amiable and polite manner to her future -son-in-law, who, by Lucia’s advice, determined -to let the little property at Palenella -and allow his mother-in-law the -rent of it for her life. Also he made up -his mind to sell his business in Palene -and have a nice barber’s shop and small -<i>café</i> in Rome, where he and Lucia would -do their utmost to please their customers.</p> - -<p>Three weeks later the marriage was -celebrated with much firing of guns and -rockets in the presence not only of the -whole village, but of most of the inhabitants -of the town of Palene, and there -was every reason to hope that it would -prove a happy one, in spite of the strange -way in which bride and bridegroom had -been brought together.—<cite>Belgravia.</cite></p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="THE_BANK_OF_ENGLAND" id="THE_BANK_OF_ENGLAND">THE BANK OF ENGLAND.</a><br /> - -<small>BY HENRY MAY.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span></p> - -<p>The simple definition of banking is -money-dealing. A banker properly so -called is but a tradesman engaged in -buying and selling money, that symbol -of wealth which in all civilised -countries facilitates or renders possible -the exchange of commodities, which -are wealth itself. A banker produces -nothing, nor does he, except in a most -indirect manner, add anything to the -wealth of the country. His business -is the collection and distribution of -that general representative of merchandise, -money, much in the same way as -an ordinary shopkeeper collects and -distributes the special articles of his -individual trade. Joint-stock banks, -then, are but co-operative distributing -associations formed for the purpose of -fighting against some real or fancied -oppression, and of competing, to the -supposed advantage of the public, with -private enterprise. They are formed for -the purpose of competing with private -bankers whose business they appear to -be gradually absorbing, possibly by a -sort of process of the survival of the -fittest. In this way the origin, in 1694, -of the Bank of England, the parent -joint-stock bank of the kingdom, and -the largest and most important money-dealing -institution in the world, may be -traced to the combination of the Government, -merchants, traders, and the -general public to oppose the exactions, -usury, and financial tyranny of the goldsmiths -and stock-jobbers of the period. -A very limited acquaintance with pamphlets -published at the time of the Great -Revolution will show that the Bank of -England was the natural outcome of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span> -necessity, a necessity which guaranteed -its success if honestly and prudently -managed. Through its means the foundation -of a safe paper currency was secured, -the national credit maintained, -and the system of usury and extortion -prevalent throughout the country undermined—at -the expense, it is true, -of many so-called bankers, stock-jobbers, -and goldsmiths, but to the great -gain of the nation, its commerce, and -the general public. Of the originator -of the Bank of England—Mr. W. Paterson, -who remained a director only -for a year or two—we know really very -little, except that he was equally the -founder of the ill-fated Darien Expedition -of 1698, that he was an able, -honorable, and enthusiastic man, and -that he died in Scotland, where, “pitied, -respected, but neglected,” he lived for -many years.</p> - -<p>The original capital of the Bank was -£1,200,000, which was subscribed in a -few days. The whole of this amount -was, as a condition of the charter, lent -to the Government at eight per cent., -the Bank being allowed an additional -£4,000 a year for the management of -the Government accounts. The necessary -capital for carrying on the banking -business appears to have been obtained -from the public by the issue of -bank bills, termed by some flippant -writers of the period “Speed’s notes,” -from the name of the first chief cashier. -These bills were evidently a sort of “deposit -receipt,” bearing interest at the rate -of twopence per cent. per diem, or at the -rate of three per cent. per annum, and -they appear to have given sore offence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">219</span> -to the goldsmiths. The Bank of England -commenced business in the Mercers’ -Hall, Cheapside, where the first -“General Court of Proprietors” was -held. But after a few months, this situation -being found inconvenient, an -agreement was made with the Grocers’ -Company (which appears to have been -in difficulties) for the use of their hall -in Princes Street. The original working -staff of the Bank consisted of fifty-four -clerks, whose united salaries amounted -to the modest sum of £4,340 a year, -averaging a little more than £80 a year -each. The chief cashier (Mr. T. Speed), -the chief accountant, and the secretary -received £250 a year each, and one clerk -is scheduled in the pay-sheet as working -“gratis.” Addison, in No. 3 of the -<cite>Spectator</cite>, gives us the following pleasant -little glimpse of the Bank at work in -1710: “In one of my late rambles, or -rather speculations, I looked into the -great hall where the Bank is kept, and -was not a little pleased to see the directors, -secretaries, and clerks, with all -the other members of that wealthy corporation, -ranged in their several stations, -according to the parts they act -in that just and regular economy.” -From which it would seem that the -Bank dignitaries of old had a firm belief -in the virtues of the “master’s -eye,” scorned bank parlors and private -rooms, and were content to work with -their servants <i lang="la">coram populo</i>—a good, -homely, old-fashioned practice, no doubt, -but one scarcely adapted to modern -banking requirements. Bank of England -directors in those days, however, had a -good deal more to do with mere clerical -duties than they have at present. -They by no means shirked the most -practical responsibilities of office, for we -find that at that period, and for many -years afterwards, even the warrants for -the payments of dividends were signed -by two of their body.</p> - -<p>It was not until after the Bank had -existed some forty years that the directors -found the business so completely -outgrow the accommodation afforded -by the Grocers’ Hall as to necessitate -a separate building of its own. -The foundation of the present building -was laid in 1732 on the site of -the residence of Sir John Houblon, -the first governor of the Bank, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span> -business was commenced in the new -premises in 1734. The edifice was -greatly enlarged between the years 1770 -and 1786, and was completed, pretty -much as it now stands, in 1786, an -Act having been procured in 1780 to -enable the directors to purchase the -adjoining church, land, and parsonage—in -fact the whole parish—of St. -Christopher le Stocks, to the rector of -which non-existent parish the Bank -pay £400 a year to this day. The -drawing office now stands on the site -of the old church, the garden being -the churchyard. In 1800, when Princes -Street was widened, the present wall-screen -round the Bank was erected by -Sir John Soane giving a uniform appearance -to the exterior of the building. -There is much in the architectural interior -of the Bank which is well worthy -of admiration; for instance the quadrangle -called the bullion-yard, in Lothbury, -the garden, rotunda, and court -rooms, &c. The long prison-like stone-colored -passages and offices devoted to -public business, however, are singularly -cold and cheerless, owing chiefly to some -apparent, yet unaccountable, objection -of the authorities to employ color as a -decorative auxiliary; possibly from a -fixed but mistaken idea that color is -antagonistic to cleanliness and brightness -to business.</p> - -<p>Although the necessities of the State -contributed to the establishment of the -Bank of England, they were, at intervals -of every few years, compelled, after making -a feeble resistance, to purchase the -continuance of their privileges on exceedingly -onerous terms. The history of -the seven renewals of the charter between -1694 and 1800, and of the accordance -of permission to increase the capital of -the Bank, is one continuous record of -State exactions. The Bank, as a condition -of State patronage, were on each -successive occasion forced to increase -their loans to the Government at low -rates of interest or without any interest -whatever, three millions sterling being -lent for six years without interest in -1800. Interest on previous loans was -reduced, exchequer bills were cancelled, -and on one occasion a free gift of £110,000 -was made to the State. As a consequence -the Government debt to the -Bank increased at a rapid rate, till it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span> -amounted at last to upwards of fourteen -and a half millions sterling, or -rather more than the whole capital of -the Corporation. In 1833 the Government -paid off one-fourth of this debt in -reduced annuities, and thereby reduced -it to £11,015,100, at which amount it -now stands. While Ministry after Ministry -thus accurately tested the pliability -of the “Governor and Company,” and -relentlessly preyed on their fears as to -the continuance of their monopoly, it is -pleasant to read of the intense feeling -of loyalty which actuated the directors -in all their dealings with the State. -When, after the Rebellion of 1715, the -Government proposed to reduce the interest -on the National Debt from six -to five per cent., the Bank testified to -their desire to assist the measure by -at once agreeing to accept the lower -rate, and to provide money to pay off -those creditors who declined to submit -to the reduction. Again, when a further -reduction in the interest on part of the -National Debt was proposed in 1750, -the Bank at once assented, and arranged -to find a sum of money to pay off the -dissentients. The passive attitude lately -assumed by the Bank directors towards -the conversion scheme of the present -Chancellor of the Exchequer contrasts -somewhat unfavorably with the loyal -attachment of the Bank to the State in -olden times. The transactions of the -Bank of England with Government for -a period of one hundred and twenty -years ending with 1816 are but a series -of loans and advances by the Bank in -anticipation of the revenue, or of payments -of treasury bills drawn by the -Government agents abroad. These large -advances and payments were entirely independent -of the permanent loan made -to the Government by the Bank, and -were supposed to be but temporary assistance -rendered to the State in times -of sore need, to be repaid periodically -as the revenue was collected. But repayment -was not made. Again and -again did the Governor and Company -represent to the Ministers that they were -unable to continue to increase the floating -debt without endangering the safety -of the Bank. Coaxed and bullied in turn -(especially by Pitt), they allowed their -loyalty to outrun their prudence, and -yielded more or less gracefully time<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span> -after time, till at last in 1797 they were -compelled to suspend cash payments, -entirely through their exertions to aid -the Government. Undoubtedly the exclusive -privileges which the Bank in -the infancy of banking enjoyed were -in some sense a <i lang="la">quid pro quo</i> for their -services to the State, and the fear of -losing their charter may have been a -strong incentive to loyalty. The subsequent -gradual enfranchisement of -banking by the various enactments between -1826 and 1858 and the enormous -progress which banking has since made -throughout the country, have, however, -considerably lessened the value of these -privileges, and from a mere proprietor’s -point of view it is quite possible that -the Bank of England might profitably -forego their charter altogether, now that -they are in no fear of losing it, and, -so far as pure banking is concerned, -they no longer enjoy a monopoly. -These considerations may have tempered -the loyalty of the directors, and -may account for the very independent -fashion in which they nowadays approach -the Government for the transaction -of business upon which, in the -olden time, they were accustomed to enter -with fear and trembling.</p> - -<p>The establishment of branches by the -Bank of England in 1826 was a direct -consequence of the great panic of 1825, -caused, as the Government alleged, by -reckless speculation encouraged and fostered -by private banks, and by the overissue -of country bank notes. In a correspondence -with the Bank, the Government -expressed their determination to -“improve the circulation of the country -paper,” and, after paying the Bank the -complement of saying, “We believe -that much of the prosperity of the -country is to be attributed to the general -wisdom, justice, and fairness of -the dealings of the Bank,” suggested -that the Bank of England should establish -branches of their own in different -parts of the country, and should, -moreover, yield part of their exclusive -privilege of joint-stock banking by permitting -the formation of banks with -more than six partners, except in or -within sixty-five miles of the metropolis. -After a vain attempt to obtain some -compensation for the concession of their -monopoly for joint-stock banking the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span> -Bank yielded on both points, and an -Act was passed authorising the establishment -of Bank of England branches and -the formation of country joint-stock -banks. The circulation of one and two -pound notes was also prohibited by this -Act.</p> - -<p>The Bank charter was again renewed -in 1833, when Bank of England notes -were first made a legal tender, and the -usury laws repealed so far as they affected -three months’ bills. The most important -clause in this charter, however, -was that which legalised the establishment -of joint-stock banks in and within -sixty-five miles of London. This led to -the establishment of the London and -Westminster Bank in 1834, the first of -those numerous metropolitan joint-stock -banks which now so extensively and -beneficially administer to the commercial -wants of the country. Up to about -this time it had been universally considered -that the Bank of England enjoyed -the exclusive privilege of joint-stock -banking within the above radius, but now -the astonishing discovery was made that -this was not so, and in fact never had -been so; and this discovery was confirmed -by the law officers of the Crown. -The directors protested, but resistance -was useless. The Bank lost its supposed -privilege, though it is very questionable -whether the Government behaved quite -straightforwardly in the matter. This -Act, together with one or two subsequent -banking Acts, thus completely enfranchised -banking, and abolished a monopoly -which was, after all, obstructive both to -financial and commercial progress. The -abolishment of any monopoly is invariably -but a question of education and -time, and, in accordance with the doctrine -of experience, it does not appear -that the Bank have really lost anything -by the competition engendered by the -enfranchisement of joint-stock banking, -while commerce and the community -have undoubtedly gained enormously.</p> - -<p>We come now to Sir Robert Peel’s -famous Bank Charter Act of 1844, entitled -“An Act to regulate the issue of -Bank Notes, and for giving to the -Governor and Company of the Bank of -England certain privileges for a limited -period.” It confirms the curtailed privileges -of the Bank for eleven years, subject -afterwards to redemption on twelve<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span> -months’ notice being given and the repayment -of the debt due by the Government -to the Bank. A clause in the subsequent -National Debt Act of 1870, -however, provides that the Bank of -England shall continue to be a corporation -until all the public Funds shall be -redeemed by Parliament, thus practically -granting it a lease in perpetuity. The -Act of 1844—to some of the special -provisions of which I shall presently -refer—practically regulates the whole -banking system of the country, and at -the present time governs the Bank of -England in the conduct of their business. -In accordance with its provisions, -the issue of Bank of England notes was -first kept distinct from the banking business -proper by the creation of the “Issue -Department” and the “Banking -Department,” with which probably most -of my readers are perfectly familiar, at -least by name. Besides these Issue and -Banking Departments, there is in the -Bank a third most important department, -devoted to what is generally, -though somewhat inaccurately, termed -“the management of the National Debt.” -In their capacity of bankers to the State -the governor and company of the Bank -of England have always acted as the -financial agents of the Government for -distributing, and paying the dividends -on, the funded debt, as well as for the performance -of other book-keeping duties -in connection therewith. Of late years -the Bank have undertaken similar duties -for the Indian and several Colonial -Governments, for the Metropolitan -Board of Works, and for various corporations -and municipalities. The considerable -portion of the Bank premises -devoted to this agency business is now -generally spoken of by financial and -banking writers as “The Department -for the Management of the National -Debt”—an imposing title doubtless, -which says a good deal more than it -means, and one, for aught I know, -adopted nowadays by the Bank themselves; -but, possibly influenced by the -recollections of days long gone by, I -confess my partiality for the old familiar -title of “Stock Offices.”</p> - -<p>In the conduct of their business, then, -the Bank of England perform three distinct -and important functions—that of -financial agents, that of issuers of notes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span> -under the control of the State, and that of -Government and general bankers. The -duties involved in these functions are -discharged, severally, towards the State -and the various governments and corporations -for whom they are agents; -towards the general public, from or to -whom they buy or sell notes and gold; -and towards the Government and customers -for whom they act as ordinary bankers. -I will consider briefly the system by -which these three functions are discharged. -The offices comprised in the -department for the management of the -National Debt are the various stock -offices in which are kept the stock ledgers -and the transfer books, the Dividend -Office, the Cheque Office, the Unclaimed -Dividend Office, the Power of Attorney -Office, and the Will or Register Office. -The nature of the business transacted in -these different offices is sufficiently indicated -by their names, with the exception -of the Cheque Office, which, on the <i lang="la">lucus a -non lucendo</i> principle, is probably so called -because it has nothing whatever to do -with “cheques,” but is devoted, for the -most part, to the purpose of checking -the amounts and totals of the dividend -warrants paid by the “Dividend Pay -Office,” an office which belongs to the -Banking Department. Some idea of the -amount of work done in the various -Stock Offices may be gathered from the -circumstance that they employ the services -of some 450 clerks. Nearly 2,000 -books are in constant use in some ten or -twelve rooms. The dividend warrants -on the funded debt alone number about -half a million a year, and are, when paid, -sent to Somerset House for verification, -together with a duplicate copy of the -dividend book. As a remuneration for -its services in connection with the National -Debt, the Bank is paid a commission of -£300 per million on the first six hundred -millions of the amount and £150 per -million on the remainder. Since the -funded debt is now altogether about -£628,500,000, the Bank receives on -this account about £184,000 per annum, -a remuneration which cannot be considered -excessive.</p> - -<p>The extreme accuracy and dispatch -with which the clerical labor involved -in the business of the Stock Offices is -performed, is almost marvellous, and reflects -the highest credit on the adminis<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span>trative -machinery of the Bank. Every -possible expedient is resorted to for the -purpose of facilitating the work and -guarding against error, even to the free -employment of the Bank’s printing-office -and the use of the stereotype process in -the preparation of the dividend books in -duplicate. It is worth mentioning that -all the old stock ledgers, transfer books, -vouchers, and documents connected with -the various stocks which have been created -since the establishment of the Bank -are carefully preserved and systematically -arranged for ready reference in the -Stock Office Library under the charge -of a librarian, whose duties, however, -though involving great responsibility, -are more monotonous than onerous.</p> - -<p>The “Issue Department” of the Bank -of England is the outcome of the determination -expressed by the Government -in 1844 “to regulate the issue of bank -notes.” The experience of former years, -more particularly that of 1825, had fully -demonstrated how undesirable, and even -dangerous, it was to leave the circulation -of bank notes to the uncontrolled discretion -of country bankers, and though -there can be no reason to doubt that the -Bank of England had hitherto used the -power which they possessed of expanding -or contracting their circulation at -will with great judgment, and substantially -to the benefit of the mercantile community, -it was thought desirable that the -control of the whole circulation in the -country should be practically vested in -the State, and be governed by some sound -financial principle. The theoretical basis -of the Act of 1844 is the principle that -bank notes should not be mere symbols -of credit—simple I O U’s, as it were, -which are a confession of a want of cash—but -of actual “ear-marked” gold; of -ready money, which alone regulates, or -should regulate, the extent of the commerce -of the country. The soundness -of this principle is doubted by many -financial authorities on the ground that it -checks the proper expansion of trade -and in times of crisis has failed in practice. -I cannot, however, here discuss -the large subject of currency, but must -accept the law as I find it, merely stating -that in my opinion it affords the only -safe basis upon which any sound currency -can be regulated. To carry out this law -effectually, then, it was obviously neces<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span>sary -that the Government should create -or select some establishment from which -bank notes might be issued, and in which -the gold that these notes represented -should be set apart or stored. As the -State Bank, the Bank of England was -naturally entrusted with these functions. -Hence the creation of the “Issue Department.” -But in order to afford some -elasticity to the circulation, and to deal -gently with the “vested interests” of -the Bank of England and country bankers -alike, the Act provides that no banks -of issue shall be permitted other than -those in existence in May, 1844, and -that an average of the note circulation of -these banks shall be taken, which shall -in future be the maximum circulation -allowed to them. This maximum was -subsequently fixed at about eight and -three-quarter millions. Provisions are -also made by which, on certain terms, -issuing banks may cede their privilege of -issue to the Bank or forfeit them altogether -in case of bankruptcy or certain -changes in the constitution of their partnerships. -The total amount of these -“lapsed issues” since 1844 is about two -and three-quarter millions, leaving the -present authorized maximum circulation -of the country banks at about six millions. -No stipulation is made that any -proportion of this circulation shall be -based upon gold. This matter is left entirely -to the judgment of the bankers -themselves, whose discretion, however, -there seems no reason to question, since -from the weekly returns supplied to the -Government in conformity with the Act, -it appears that not more than one-half -the notes of the maximum issue are in -actual circulation. With regard to the -Bank of England, permission is accorded -to the Issue Department to issue notes -to the amount of fourteen millions upon -securities—including the £11,015,100 -due by the Government to the Bank—to -be set apart for the purpose of guarantee. -The Bank is furthermore permitted to increase -the amount of notes issued on securities -to the extent of two-thirds of -the lapsed issues of country banks. The -extra issue thus acquired is now £1,750,000, -which brings up the total amount of -issue on securities to £15,750,000, inclusive -of the Government debt. Any -further issue of notes must be represented -by an equal amount of bullion or gold<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span> -coin transferred to the separate vaults of -the Issue Department, but one-fourth of -the amount so transferred may consist -of silver bullion.</p> - -<p>The Bank are required to furnish the -Government with a weekly report of the -accounts of the Issue and Banking departments. -This report, which is popularly -called “The Bank Return,” is -published each Thursday afternoon, and -is copied in the morning newspapers of -Friday, together with the comments and -deductions, more or less speculative and -intelligent, of the different City editors. -The Bank Return, so far as it regards -the Issue department, is simplicity itself. -Let the reader put one of them before -him. On the one side he will find the -total amount of notes issued, and on the -other the bases of the issue, divided into -the “Government debt,” the “other securities” -(which together make up the -total of £15,750,000, above mentioned), -“gold coin and bullion,” and “silver -bullion,” if there be any, which is very -seldom the case. The simple term “bullion” -signifies gold bullion, or gold in -bars, which the Bank are compelled to -receive from any person tendering it, in -exchange for notes, at the rate of £3 17s. -9d. per ounce of 22 parts out of 24 of -pure gold.</p> - -<p>It is evident that the amount of bank -notes issued varies in exact proportion -to the amount of gold in the Issue Department, -the issue against the Government -debt and other securities being invariable. -Roughly speaking, the contraction -or expansion of the circulation -indicates a corresponding curtailment or -increase in commercial facilities or requirements. -Hence the Issue Department -return becomes an important guide -to the operations of bankers, brokers, -and financial firms, by whom it is carefully -watched, since the increase or diminution -of the stock of gold may be said -respectively to be a signal of safety or -danger. The receipts or withdrawals -of gold in any large quantity by or from -the Bank are of two kinds, inland and -foreign. The former for the most part -occur at certain regular periods of the -year, such as the harvest season, Scotch -“term-time,” &c. They exercise but a -very modified and temporary influence -on the money market, for the laws by -which they are governed are very fairly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span> -understood and recognised, and the -amount of gold <em>actually in the kingdom</em> -remains unaltered. It is far different, -however, with the demand or supply of -gold from foreign countries, the importance -of which to the financial world is -so great that the amount of gold received -or delivered by the Bank on foreign account -is by them made known day by -day, and is duly chronicled in the City -articles of the morning papers. The -exports and imports of gold (which -practically, regulate the note issue) are -governed by the state of the foreign exchanges, -which are probably a mystery -to many of my readers, but which up to -a certain point may be readily understood. -Approaching the subject as tenderly -and in as elementary a manner as -possible, I will at once simplify matters -by saying that, with a few exceptions -(such as regard India, Russia, China, -&c.), the foreign rates of exchange represent -the amount of money in its own -currency (be it paper or gold) that the -specified financial centre of each country -is willing to give for a pound sterling on -London. They vary almost daily, and -are indications either of indebtedness or -of the abundance or scarcity of money, -and are described as favorable or unfavorable -to this country according to -whether they are high or low. A rate -of exchange is an indication of indebtedness, -according to the position of the -balance of trade or indebtedness between -the country fixing it and England. When -in any given country this indebtedness -is in favor of England, it is obvious that -in that country bills on London for the -purpose of remittance will be in demand, -and will fetch more money; consequently -the rate at which they will be -purchased rises. When the balance of -trade is against England, it is equally -evident that bills on London are not so -much wanted, and the price of them—that -is the rate of exchange—consequently -falls.</p> - -<p>But I have said that a rate of exchange -may be an indication of abundance -or scarcity of money in the country -quoting it; and it is often so in this -manner. Let us suppose that there is -no balance of trade to settle between a -given country and England, but that the -rate, of discount, or value of money, in -the former is, say, three per cent., while<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span> -in England it is, say, four per cent. It -follows that <i lang="la">primâ facie</i> it is more profitable -to send surplus money to England -for employment than to keep it at home. -In the absence of trade bills a demand -for drafts transferring money to London -sets in, and the rate of exchange rises. -Let us now reverse this condition of -things. Suppose money to be dearer in -a given country than in England; it is -evident in that case that capitalists here -would find it more profitable to employ -their money in that country than at -home, and that the foreign rate of exchange -would consequently fall. I have -spoken hitherto of remittances by bills -or drafts only, but it is obvious that a -scarcity of these vehicles for the transfer -of money may so drive up the rate of -exchange that it becomes more profitable -to send gold. When this point is reached -the foreign rate of exchange is said to -stand at “gold point.” If I have made -myself clearly understood, the reader -will now see how the rate of discount by -attracting or repelling money affects the -movement of gold in the Bank of England, -and why, when the Bank desire to -either simply protect their stock of gold -or their “reserve,” and so prevent any -contraction of the note issue, or to attract -gold from abroad and so expand -the circulation, or increase the “reserve,” -they raise the official rate of discount -step by step until the desired end -is accomplished; or why, when the -stock of gold is large and the note issue -may with safety be contracted, they -facilitate the trade of the country by -lowering their minimum rate, at the risk -of gold being required for export. He -will, too, gain some slight idea of how -the world’s stock of gold is moved about -from country to country at the call of -commerce, and how true it is that the -trade of any country is, or ought to be, -regulated solely by its supply of gold, -or ready money.</p> - -<p>The offices comprised in the Issue -Department of the Bank are the Hall, -the Bullion Office, and the Gold-weighing -Room. In the Hall, notes and gold -are exchanged by the public one for the -other, and notes are exchanged for other -notes of a higher or lower denomination. -In the Bullion Office bar-gold is -bought at the rate of £3 17s. 9d. per -ounce, or exchanged for sovereigns at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span> -the rate of £3 17s. 10-1/2d. per ounce, at -which rate bullion is also sold. Nearly -all the imports of gold and silver to this -country are taken to the Bank of England -for delivery to the consignees. -The duties connected with these consignments -are undertaken by the Bullion -Office, where small charges are made -for weighing, packing, and collecting -freight, &c. In the Gold-weighing Room -gold coin is weighed automatically, at -the rate of about 2,000 pieces an hour -each, by about a dozen beautiful little -machines worked by an atmospheric -engine. Bank notes are not re-issued -after having been once paid, and in the -Bank Note Office registers are kept in -which are recorded the dates of issue -and return to the Bank of each respective -note. The particulars of the payment -of any note can be ascertained by -a reference to the Bank Note Library, -where the paid and cancelled notes are -kept for seven years, after which they -are burnt on the Bank premises. For -the privilege of issuing the £15,750,000 -against securities, and for exemption -from stamp duty, the Bank pay an annual -sum of about £200,000, together -with any profit which they may derive -from the notes issued against gold to the -Government. The paper on which bank -notes are printed is manufactured expressly -for the Bank of England at Laverstock -in Hampshire, but the dies from -which the water-mark is made, as well -as the plates from which the notes are -printed, are made at the Bank. The -notes are all printed at the Bank’s own -printing-office under the care of the -printing superintendent, the quantity of -notes required from time to time being -regulated by the chief cashier, who is responsible -for their safe custody as soon -as, by a second process of printing, the -numbers and dates have been filled in -for the purpose of issue. The average -number of bank notes paid and cancelled -each day is more than 40,000, and no -less than 80,000,000 cancelled notes may -be found as a rule, stored and sorted for -reference, in the Bank Note Library. -The Bank of England also undertakes -the printing of “rupee paper” for the -Indian Government.</p> - -<p>The “Banking Department” of the -Bank of England is the separation of -the ordinary banking business from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span> -business of financial agency and issuing -notes. In a speech on the renewal of the -Bank charter in 1844 Sir Robert Peel -said, “With respect to the banking -business of the Bank, I propose that it -should be governed on precisely the -same principles as would regulate any -other body dealing with Bank of England -notes.” The Bank Act of 1844, -then, does not touch the management of -the Banking Department in any way beyond -requiring that a weekly statement -of its assets and liabilities shall be published. -This statement—which forms -part of the “Bank Return”—may be -thus analysed. On the left hand side -are the liabilities, divided into the liability -towards the proprietors of the Bank -as shown by the amounts of “Proprietors’ -Capital” and “Rest” (which latter -is practically an addition to the capital); -the liability to the Government, -as shown by the amount of “Public Deposits,” -which are the balances of different -Government accounts; the liability -to the customers as shown by the amount -of the “Other Deposits,” which are the -sum of the balances of the current or -“drawing” accounts; and the liability -to the holders of the Bank’s acceptances -as shown by the amount of “Seven-day -and other Bills” in circulation. On the -other side of the statement are the assets -by which these liabilities are represented, -divided into “Government Securities,” -which show the amount of the banking -capital invested in Government securities; -the “Other Securities,” which -show the amount of other investments -made by the Bank; and, separately, the -“notes” and “gold and silver coin,” -which show the amount of cash in hand -for the current purposes of the Banking -Department. This sum of notes and -gold and silver coin forms, so to speak, -the cash assets of the Bank, and the proportion -which it bears to the current -liabilities disclosed by the public and -other deposits and seven-day bills is -called the proportion of reserve to liabilities, -and is always a matter of great -interest, and often of great anxiety, to -the City on Thursdays.</p> - -<p>The question of the proportion which -these cash assets should bear to liabilities -is one of extreme importance to a -prudent banker. It is generally considered -that it should be about one-third,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</span> -but a proportion of reserve to liabilities -of only 33 per cent. in the Bank Return -would create considerable anxiety, while -in an ordinary joint-stock bank’s accounts -it would, I fancy, be abnormally -great, far greater than that disclosed by -the half-yearly accounts submitted to the -shareholders, which may naturally be -supposed to represent the financial position -in the most favorable light. The -publication of the weekly Bank Return -is so useful and important to commerce, -banking, and finance that it is to be regretted -that the law which calls for it is -not extended to all joint-stock if not to -private banks. We might then hope to -see an end put to that faulty system of -banking which in good times, in order -to pay extraordinary dividends, encourages -over-trading by giving every possible -facility to speculation, and, when a reaction -comes, suddenly cuts off all -“accommodation,” calls in all resources, -and drives its customers to the -Bank of England, in the hope of obtaining -that ready money which it is no -longer willing itself to supply. The -Bank of England, through their Banking -Department, undertake duties merely -towards their own customers and the -Government. Their banking business -is conducted for the most part (in theory, -at all events) on the same lines as any -other banking institution. It is unreasonable, -therefore, to suppose that it is -any part of their duty, in times of panic -or crisis, to find ready money for a public -shunted over to them by its own bankers, -who from an inordinate desire to -pay large dividends have placed themselves -in a position of inability or unwillingness -to find it themselves. And -yet some such theory as this is advanced -by many well-known writers on banking -and finance. Bankers, probably knowing -the weak points in their system, become -sadly selfish, and are quick to take -fright at the first signs of a panic, which -they often do much to increase. The -suspension of the Bank Act is to them -the only true solution of the difficulties -caused by over-trading, over-speculation, -and inflation of general business. -At their earnest entreaty—not at the -solicitation of the Bank of England—has -the Act been thrice suspended: not, -as subsequent events proved, because -any suspension of the Act was really<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</span> -necessary, but because bankers hesitated -to do their duty to their customers, except -under the shelter of its protecting -wing. Nothing can be more erroneous, -or, indeed, more mischievous, than the -doctrine that it is the duty of the Bank -of England to keep the “reserve” of -the whole country, simply on the ground -that, for Clearing House purposes, it -suits the convenience of bankers to entrust -them with large balances, and because -they act as agents for the Government -in automatically regulating the note -issue of the kingdom.</p> - -<p>The business of the Banking Department—which, -except as regards the magnitude -of its transactions, and the current -accounts of other bankers and of -the Government, differs but little from -that of any other London banks—is carried -on chiefly in the Private Drawing -Office, the Public Drawing Office, the -Discount Office, and the Bill and Post -Bill Offices. Besides these offices there -are the Dividend Pay Office, devoted to -the cash payment of dividends, and the -Chief Cashier’s Office, where advances -on securities and the various public -loans are initiated, and to which is attached -the private room of the chief -cashier, which for the most part corresponds -with the manager’s room in any -ordinary bank. In the Private Drawing -Office are kept the private accounts of -the general customers of the Bank, a -separate counter being reserved for the -exclusive convenience of bankers. It -is a popular error to suppose that the -conditions of keeping an account with -the Bank of England differ in any essential -particular from those of most of the -other banks. A satisfactory introduction -will enable any one to open an account, -and no restriction is placed upon -the amount of balance to be kept, except -that if it does not prove remunerative -to the Bank a charge is made in -proportion to the amount of trouble and -expense involved. Roughly speaking, -a remunerative balance in ordinary cases -is considered to be an average balance -throughout the year of one pound for -each cheque drawn. Thus if a customer -draws two hundred cheques in a year -and keeps an average balance of £200 -his account is probably considered remunerative. -Cheques may be drawn on -the Bank of any amount however small,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</span> -though there was, I believe, many years -ago, a sort of understanding that customers -should not draw cheques for an -amount under five pounds. The Public -Drawing Office, as its name implies, is -devoted to the custody of the drawing -accounts of the Government and various -public companies and institutions. The -Discount Office is charged with the reception -of all bills offered for discount -by parties who have opened discount -accounts with the Bank. These bills are -submitted to a committee of directors -(sitting daily for the purpose) who decide -upon the amount of accommodation -to be granted and the rate of discount -to be charged. The net proceeds -of the bills discounted are then passed -to the credit of the customer’s account, -while the bills themselves are entrusted -to the care of the Bill Office, which occupies -itself with the duty of sorting and -arranging them (together with bills belonging -to customers) so that they may -be duly presented for payment at maturity. -In the Post Bill Office the Bank -issue to the public their acceptances at -seven or sixty days’ sight, technically -called “Bank post bills,” for any required -amount, in even or uneven sums. -The amount of business transacted in -this office has considerably diminished -of late years, owing to similar facilities -being granted by bankers generally -throughout the country. The Bank of -England have nine country branches, -which keep separate accounts for the -Issue and Banking departments, and the -particulars of each day’s transactions, -together with the balance sheets, are -posted nightly to the Branch Banks -Office in London, through which office -all the correspondence and business -transactions connected with the branches -are carried on. There is also one -branch in London at the West-End.</p> - -<p>The economy of the Bank of England -is controlled by the Governor, the -Deputy-Governor, and twenty-four Directors. -The clerical machinery is -divided into the “Cash side” and the -“Accountant’s side.” The former, -under the practical charge of the chief -cashier, comprises the transaction of all -business where actual cash is concerned, -together with the necessary book-keeping -which it involves; the latter, under -the charge of the chief accountant, takes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</span> -cognizance of all matters of pure book-keeping -where no actual cash is concerned, -such as those which relate to the -National Debt accounts, the registration -of Bank notes, and so on. In olden -times these divisions were kept much -more distinct than they are at present. -There was formerly a certain antagonism -between the two “chiefs” which, however, -has long since disappeared, and -they now live together in a state of remarkable -harmony, without even fighting -over the question of precedence -which the chief accountant is supposed -to claim—mainly, I fancy, on alphabetical -grounds, because A comes before C. -The supervision of each office on both -“sides” of the Bank, is intrusted to a -principal and deputy-principal, who are -accountable in the first place to the chief -cashier or chief accountant, as the case -may be, and afterwards to a committee -of directors. The secretary is a separate -officer of the Bank. He stands midway, -as it were, between the two “sides,” -having certain relations with each. He -nurses the charter, and sees that its -forms and ceremonies are complied -with; he records the proceedings of the -courts, summons and attends all committees, -and “picks up their bits.” He -waits upon the governors, and does odd -literary jobs, stops notes, puts the candidates -for clerkship through their preliminary -examination, collects income-tax, -and grants orders to view the Bank, -&c. His duties, in short, are as multifarious -as those of the General Post -Office, and it is satisfactory to think that -they are as equally well performed by -the present incumbent and his staff.</p> - -<p>The total number of employés all told -in the Bank is about 1,100, and the salary -list, including pensions, is about -£300,000 per annum. There is an excellent -library and reading-room in the -Bank, to which the directors have liberally -contributed both money and books. -There are also a Widows’ Fund and -Guarantee Society, a Life Insurance -Company, a Volunteer Company, and a -Club, or dining room, where clerks can -dine cheaply and well, connected with -the Bank, which owe very much of their -prosperity to the liberality and kind -consideration of the directors. The -governors and directors of the Bank -divide between them £14,000 per an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">237</span>num. -Of this the governors receive -£1,000 each and the directors £500 -each. Beyond the status which their -position gives them, they derive no -benefit from their office, while they tax -themselves most liberally by their contributions -towards the welfare of their -clerks. The governor and deputy-governor -remain in office for two years only, -and this short tenure of office is, with -considerable reason, thought to be detrimental -to the efficient and consistent -administration of the functions of government. -The great blot of the system -seems to be the want of continuity of -policy which is engendered. A governor, -let us say, is an enlightened financier; -for two years his policy is paramount; -but his successor then comes, -and perhaps reverses everything, and the -onus of the change, so far as the Bank -customers are concerned, is left to be -borne by the permanent officers of the -Bank, who have perhaps never been -consulted in the matter, or whose opinions, -based on the experience of many -years, may be ruthlessly ignored. The -two years’ system undoubtedly has its -advantages in the constant introduction -of new blood, it also strengthens the -governors from above and below the -chair. The directors below the chair -give the governor a loyal and hearty -support, because they feel that one day -their own turn may come, while those -above the chair, having passed through -the ordeal, know the value of their colleagues’ -support. But the result of this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">238</span> -is nevertheless the institution of a sort -of one-man power, which is well enough -when there is a Hubbard, Hodgson, or -Crawford in the chair, or if there is a -Baring, Hambro, Rothschild, or Goschen -to follow, but which may have its -disadvantages.</p> - -<p>I have thus traced the rise, sketched -the progress, and dwelt briefly on the -present position of the Bank of England. -In spite of the gradual abolition -of their monopoly, in spite of the curtailment -of their exclusive privileges, -and in spite of all consequent competition, -the “governor and company” have -never failed to lead the van of the banking -progress of the kingdom, and to -maintain their proud position as the first -banking institution in the world. Bill-brokers -may occasionally grumble at the -late revival of an old rule restricting -the periods of advances to six weeks before -dividend time, and customers may -occasionally smile or fume at the traces -of red-tapeism which still linger in the -establishment; but no one can look -back, as I do, over a period of forty -years, without fully appreciating the -value of the important and beneficial -changes and improvements which have -lately been effected in every department -of the Bank for the purpose of facilitating -the transaction of business and -studying the convenience of the public, -or without feeling an increased veneration -and respect for “the old lady in -Threadneedle Street.”—<cite>Fortnightly Review.</cite></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">239</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="EXPLORATION_IN_A_NEW_DIRECTION">EXPLORATION IN A NEW DIRECTION.</h2> - - -<p>One great temptation to the exploration -of the world is rapidly passing away. -There is little to be found that will -gratify the love of the marvellous. Of -an absolutely new land there is now no -lingering hope. We know enough of the -ocean to be sure that there exists no undiscovered -continent, no unsuspected -peninsula—unless it be in the Antarctic -circle—and no island large enough to be -either of value or of interest. It is not, -it is true, many years since Saghalien, -which was supposed to be a peninsula, -was discovered to be an island; a new -island near Spitzbergen was found the -other day; and there may be an unnamed -islet or two in the North Pacific -still awaiting visitors; or a rock in the -Indian Ocean, as forgotten by all mankind -as that strange British dependency, -the Chagos group—a series of hill-tops -just peering above the water—is by -nearly all Englishmen; but such discoveries -can only be classed as rectifications -of detail in geography. They neither -arouse imagination nor stimulate enterprise, -as the old discoveries did; nor -can there be many more of them. The -coasts of the world and its oceans have -been surveyed by the persistent energy of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">240</span> -half-a-dozen Governments, who have -gone on with their work unnoticed for -more than a century; and the water-system -of the little planet has been thoroughly -explored. The survey of the -land is less complete; but it is advancing, -as the Scotchman said of Sunday, -“with fearful regularity.” What with -England, Germany, France, Portugal, -the African Association, Mr. Thomson, -Mr. Johnston, and the merchants hunting -for bargains, we shall soon be in possession -of a perfect map of Africa; and -are already tolerably certain that no unknown -race exists, and that there is no -considerable space in which we are likely -to find either new animals, or a new flora -of any but scientific importance. The -kind of delight which woke among men -when the first giraffe was caught, or the -first kangaroo was exactly sketched, is -not, we fear, a delight reserved for this -generation. There is just a faint hope -of such a “find” when we get fairly -inside New Guinea; but it is only faint. -There may be a buried city somewhere -in the back of Peru, as interesting as the -ruined city in Cambodia, and Yucatan -might repay much more patient searching -than it has received; while there are -spaces in Thibet unknown to white men, -and a province or two outside Afghanistan -which even Russians have not visited. -Indeed, if rumor does not lie, -they discovered a village a few weeks -ago which no official had seen for eighty -years, and where the people were entirely -self-governing; but the story looks a -little mythical, and the people thus discovered -were still only Russians. Brazil -has not been thoroughly searched, but -knowledge of its contents accumulates -at Rio, and its less-visited provinces are -known to be almost blank; and now -Mr. im Thurn, with his patient courage, -jumping upwards from rock to rock and -tree to tree, has revealed the mystery of -Roraima, the secret mountain-top in -Guiana which a correspondent of our -own first set the world agog to discover. -It is a plateau, twelve miles by four, entirely -bare of trees, with no animals -upon its surface, which is full of small -lakes, and with nothing to repay the explorer -except the consciousness of victory, -a magnificent prospect, and a few -orchids which fashionable gardeners will -hardly prize. There is no clan living up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">241</span> -there isolated from mankind for a few -thousand years; and the wonderful animals -of which the Indians talked, and -which should, if the fear of man is not -instinctive, but only a result of centuries -of distrust, have trotted up to Mr. im -Thurn saying, “Come, sketch me,” existed -only in the wild imaginations of -men who honestly believe that all dreams -are real, and who cannot completely dissociate -their own thoughts from the subjects -of their thoughts—the possible explanation -of many a rare old legend. So -disappears one more though remote -hope of scientific excitement. There are -not many Roraimas in the world; and -when some bold gold-seeker has traversed -Eastern Peru, and some adventurous -Frenchman, with muskets for sale, has -forced his way up among the Shans behind -Laos, and the African land-grabbers -have met, as they will meet, and -the first Australian has killed the first -German in the centre of New Guinea, -there will be little left for the explorer, -who now shakes his head over the wonderful -dream we heard a missionary recount -thirty-five years ago,—that in the -depths of Australia we might yet discover -a buried town, and evidences of a -civilisation which had rotted-down till -its survivor was only an aborigine who -had forgotten fire. How that discovery -would delight the Duke of Argyll, giving -him the victory in his life-long defence -of the possibility of utter degeneracy! -But we fear that the pleasure—which, -as hard-headed thinker, he well deserves—is -not reserved for him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We fancy exploration, to become again -thoroughly interesting, must be directed -towards things, rather than places; the -whole world being searched for things -of value, and especially new dyes, new -fibres, and new foods. We have always -thought that there was nearly as much -to interest men in Mr. Fortune’s hunt -of years for the green indigo—which undoubtedly -exists, though he failed to find -it—as in any exploration of a new -island. The delight of the American -who has just discovered a cotton-plant -six times as fruitful as the old variety, -must be very keen, and not altogether -tainted by the reflection—though that is -unavoidable—that in such a plant there -must be dollars. Just imagine what that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">242</span> -man would do for mankind who found a -new and vigorous potato, different from -the plant which now grows in Ireland, -and which is, according to a writer in -the <cite>Cornhill</cite>, being propagated by cuttings, -which is a single undivided plant, -liable to inherit, through all its millions -of apparently separate existences, the -weaknesses of the original tuber, and -liable also to exhaustion, as of old age. -It has no children; only a power, so to -speak, of having bits of its flesh cut off -and planted. It is never renewed from -seeds, and so, by all the analogies of -Nature, will perish; though the banana, -which also is never renewed—and, indeed, -in one variety, has become seedless—has -lasted ages. It is quite possible -that there are only two bananas in -the world. Or imagine a new and successful -cereal,—a real one in the true -silica armor, with a head twice as heavy, -and grains twice as nutritious, as those -of wheat. Why should wheat be the -final source of bread? Man got saccharine -matter from all sorts of things—grapes, -honey, and fruits—from the -earliest times; but he was old in the -world, and had passed through many -civilisations, before he discovered the -cane and crushed the beet, and so got -his present boundless store of sugar. A -cereal as fruitful as wheat and as hardy -as rye would change the face of Northern -Europe; while one which could -flourish on exhausted soil or in a damp -climate, might affect the distribution of -mankind. The direct gain of mankind -from such a discovery might be counted -by hundreds of millions; and we know -of no law of Nature which should prevent -it, and of no guarantee that the -cultivating races have exhausted search. -They most of them, in the early ages, -when they longed for substitutes for fish, -and meat, and berries, must have -clutched the first edible grass they could -find without much hunting for better. -Farmers will smile, but there may be -grains they never saw. Mincing Lane -thinks it knows all about tea, and, no -doubt, does know a good deal; but Mr. -Alexander Hosie, of the Chinese Consular -service, has eaten and drank a tea -which needs no sugar. At least, in the -fascinating Report which he has presented -to Sir H. Parkes, and which has -just been published by Parliament to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">243</span> -teach travellers how to observe, while -recording the result of his hunt after -white tree-wax, he says:—“I come now -to the last class of tea, the discovery of -Mr. Baber. If my memory is not at -fault, he was regaled by a priest on -Mount Olmei with tea possessing both -the flavor of milk and sugar. It may -have been in the very temple on the -mountain-side in which I am now writing -that Mr. Baber was agreeably surprised. -At anyrate, I am sipping an -infusion which is without doubt sweet, -and which is declared by the priest to be -brewed from a naturally-prepared tea-leaf. -It is a large dark-brown leaf, and -is very sweet when chewed. The people -at the bottom of the mountain, whom I -first questioned regarding this tea, asserted -that the leaves were sweet because -they were first steeped in molasses; but -the balance of evidence, as I have since -found from extensive inquiry, is against -any such artificial preparation. The -tree is said to grow in only one gorge in -the mountain, whence the leaves are -brought for sale.” What will Mincing -Lane give for a shipload of that tea, the -very existence of which, till drunk and -eaten, the dealers would have regarded -as a solemn joke? Men are wise about -silk-culture in Italy and Southern -France; but they do not know, as the -Chinese told Mr. Hosie, that the mulberry-leaf -is too strong food for baby-silkworms, -and that the wretched little -insect, if you want plenty of silk, should -be fed-up in earliest infancy on the -leaves of a silkworm thorn-tree, fifteen -feet high, unknown to Europeans, -though Mr. Hosie found it everywhere -in Szechuen, growing by the road-sides, -and as hardy as the thorns, of which it -is a variety, usually are. How much -difference in annual cash-earnings would -the importation of that thorn make in -Lombardy? Why should not the Governments, -which so steadily map-out the -seas, even combining to do it, institute -a patient and exhaustive search for new -grasses able to produce flour, and new -vegetables fit for eating? They might -not produce many Mr. Hosies, who, if -the Members of Parliament read his Report, -will very soon find himself as well-known -in London as any popular author; -but they also might. The men like Mr. -Fortune and Mr. Hosie, the men whose<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">244</span> -observation nothing escapes, are not rare -among botanists, and would need but -little encouragement to carry on for years -a persistent inquiry which, if carefully -limited to defined objects, would almost -certainly produce some considerable result. -The work, it will be said, is one -for Societies; but it seems a pity to -waste the great resource which Governments -possess in the wide distribution of -their agencies, and in their power of -carrying-on their inquiries without reference -to time. There will be a Legation -at Pekin and Lima, and Jeddo, and -Teheran, a hundred years hence; and -one official inquirer who records everything, -and is replaced when he departs, -and is always protected and treated with -civility, can, in that space of time, accumulate -much knowledge, and will cost -but little money. It is organised and -protracted inquiry, not a mere spasmodic -effort, that we want to see, and -that will benefit mankind. Let the -Societies hunt for their rare orchids, -and plants with lovely blooms, and all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">245</span> -manner of scientific novelties, and let -the Governments promote the search for -prosaic things which the ordinary inquirer -will neglect. We shall find no -new edible animal, we fear, unless it be -some variety of goat which can be bred -into fatness, and made to yield sweet -meat—kid properly cooked, that is, -roasted to death, is better than most -mutton—but a new cereal is clearly a -possibility, and might be worth all the -botanical discoveries made since the settlers -in Virginia sent home the potato. -The late Mr. Bagehot, who was always -dropping witty wisdom, used to say that -the wildest speculator he ever heard of -was the first man who dropped grain into -the earth and waited till it grew up, and -to regret that his name, like that of the -discoverer of fire, and of the first man -who mastered a horse, was for ever lost. -We think we may venture to say that the -name of the man who next discovers a -cereal of true value will not be.—<em>The -Spectator.</em></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">246</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="A_RUSSIAN_PHILOSOPHER_ON_ENGLISH_POLITICS">A RUSSIAN PHILOSOPHER ON ENGLISH POLITICS.</h2> - - -<p>About five-and-twenty years ago, I -happened to be engaged in the service -of my country in a distant part of the -world. The duties which devolved upon -me threw me into a daily contact with -a Russian officer similarly employed. -Notwithstanding the conflicting interests -which we severally represented, and the -somewhat delicate and often strained -relations resulting therefrom, we had -not been long in each other’s society -without becoming sensible of a personal -sympathy too powerful to be resisted, -and which soon ripened into an intimacy -which lasted for many years; indeed -we were thrown so exclusively upon our -own resources, deprived as we were of -all other society, that we must probably -soon either have become bitter enemies -or fast friends. A certain similarity of -taste, I had almost said of aspiration, -forced upon us the latter alternative; -and it was probably due to this that we -were enabled to bring the special duties -upon which we were engaged to a successful -conclusion, whereby we earned -the approval of our respective Governments,—represented -in his case by a -decoration, and in mine by a curt complimentary -despatch; for in those days -C.B.’s and C.M.G.’s were not flung -about with the lavish profusion which -has since so largely depreciated their -value. It was a relief, when the labors -of the day were over—which had taxed -all our powers of ingenuity and forbearance, -and we had fatigued our brains by -inventing compromises and devising solutions -which should satisfy the susceptibilities -of our respective Governments—to -jump on our horses and take a -sharp dash across country, just by way -of clearing our brains of diplomatic cobwebs. -Generally we played at follow-my-leader, -and we took it in turns to be -leader; for we were both young, and -had, in fact, been weighted with responsibilities -beyond our years, which made -us rush into a reaction that consisted in -an active endeavor to break our necks -every afternoon with all the keener zest,—to -the intense astonishment of the -natives of the uncivilised region to which -we had been temporarily banished.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">247</span> -Then, as we jogged slowly home, we -would fall into those discussions, on -social, religious, psychological, and -moral problems, by which our souls were -vexed, which lasted through dinner, and -often far into the night. I found in my -companion an earnestness, depth, and -originality of sentiment which were most -remarkable in one so young, the more -especially as I had not supposed that his -training and early associations had been -of a character to develop that side of his -nature; possibly the very restraints to -which he had been subjected had stimulated -his instincts for independent -thought and speculation. Knowing -English, French, and German almost as -well as his mother-tongue, he had read -extensively and greedily in all three languages; -and, owing to certain family -circumstances, he had spent the most -part of his life away from his native -land, applying himself, with an acuteness -and a faculty of observation extraordinary -in one so young, to a study of -the political institutions, social conditions, -and national characteristics of -the different European countries in -which he had lived. So precocious did -his intelligence appear to me in this respect, -that I soon came to consider myself -in some degree a sort of disciple; -and I have always been conscious that -his influence during the nine months that -we were together affected my own subsequent -views of life, and indeed to some -extent moulded my future. In the course -of these discussions he unburdened himself -to me on all subjects as fully as he -would have done to a brother—indeed, -considering who his brother was, far -more freely; and did not shrink from -commenting upon the social and political -condition of his own country, and from -giving vent to opinions which would -probably have consigned him to the -mines of Siberia for life had he been -known to entertain them. The confidence -which he thus displayed towards -me only served to bind us more closely -together, though I was ever haunted by -the fear that the day might come when -he might misplace it, with consequences -which might be fatal to himself. As he -was absolutely devoid of all personal -ambition, this would be of little moment, -if it only resulted in the abrupt -termination of his career, which, from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">248</span> -his natural independence of character, -I anticipated could not long be postponed. -It occurred even sooner than I -expected. Within six months of my -parting from him, I received a letter in -which he told me he had fallen into disgrace, -and was going to live in Italy. -The exigencies of my own service had -taken me to a very different part of the -world; but we kept up, nevertheless, an -active correspondence for some years, -during which he occasionally sent me -notes of a book he was writing, in letters -which continued to exhibit more and -more the results of his extensive reading -and profound faculty of observation, -philosophic speculation and generalisation. -Suddenly, about fifteen years ago, -and without a word of warning, these -ceased. All my letters remained unanswered; -and when, some time afterwards, -I found myself in Rome, and inquired -at the address to which I had -sent them, it was only to learn that the -present proprietors of the house were -comparatively new people, and had never -heard of him. Meantime I had myself -retired from the service, and being of a -wandering and unsettled disposition, had -only returned to my own country for a -few months at a time. I had lived too -long in summer climes, and under less -conventional restraints, to be happy in -it; but one of my constant regrets was -that I had never thought of providing -my Russian friend with a permanent address, -so that in case of his ever being -able or willing to communicate with me -again, he might know where to find me. -Meanwhile I could only account for his -silence by the painful supposition that -he had in some manner incurred the -severe displeasure of his Government, -and was languishing in that distant semi-arctic -region which is hermetically sealed -to all communication with the outside -world.</p> - -<p>My delight may easily be imagined, -therefore, when scarce two months ago, -chancing to be a passenger on board a -steamer in the Mediterranean, I found -myself seated the first day at dinner next -to a man, the tones of whose voice I -thought I recognised, though I was for -a moment puzzled by the alteration in -his general appearance, and who turned -out to be my long-lost friend, upon -whom, as I looked at the furrows on his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">249</span> -countenance, I saw that something more -than time—though it had extended over -twenty-five years—had worked a change. -This same interval had, doubtless, done -something for me; so we both looked at -each other for a moment in hesitation -before permitting the joy of mutual -recognition to burst forth. We soon -found, on comparing notes, that we had -been longing to find each other, and -that nothing now prevented our pitching -our tent together on the sunny Mediterranean -shore, in the hope and belief -that we should find that the companionship -which had suited us so well twenty-five -years previously, would only be rendered -more full of interest and profit by -the experiences which we had undergone -since that period; nor had we conversed -an hour before we became convinced -that, however much we might have -changed in outward appearance, our -affection for each other, and our human -sympathies generally, had undergone no -alteration. It is therefore in a villa -surrounded by orange-groves, with terraces -overlooking the sea, built curiously -into the fissures of impending rock, that -I am writing this; or, to be more strictly -accurate, I should say it is in a summer-house -attached to the villa, fifty feet beneath -which the sea is rippling in ceaseless -murmur, while my friend, stretched -on a Persian rug in the shade formed by -the angle of the wall with the overhanging -rock, here covered with a creeping -jasmine, heavy with blossom, is watching -the smoke of his cigarette, and listening -while I read to him passages here -and there of the notes which I had taken -of our last night’s conversation. It had -been suggested by the arrival of letters -and newspapers from England, and it -occurred to me that the remarks of my -friend as a calm and unprejudiced observer -upon the present political, social, -and moral condition of my own country, -possessed a value which justified me in -asking his permission to be allowed to -publish them, the more so as he had just -returned from spending some months in -London; and he was of far too liberal -and philosophical a temperament and -cosmopolitan training and sympathy to -be influenced by national prejudice; -while, had he ever been once biassed by -it, the treatment he had undergone at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">250</span> -the hands of his own Government would -have long since effectually removed it.</p> - -<p>“I will introduce you to the public by -telling the story of our previous acquaintance, -just as it occurred,” I observed. -This the reader will remark that I have -already done; but I did not read my introduction -to my friend, as I knew he -would have raised strong objections to -the complimentary passages. “Now tell -me what I am to call you?”</p> - -<p>“Ivan is safe, simple, and not far -from the truth, unless you prefer a pair -of initials like my well-known countrywoman -O. K. It has amused me to observe,” -he added, with a smile, “as I -have watched the performances, social, -literary, and political, how much more -easy it is for a woman to understand the -genius of a man than the genius of a -nation.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps that is because the nation -is composed of women as well as of -men,”I replied.</p> - -<p>“After all, it comes to pretty much -the same thing,” said Ivan; “for the -genius that he understood well enough -to beguile, seems to apprehend equally -well the genius of the nation he governs, -or he could not have beguiled it in the -sense she desired. The whole incident -serves to illustrate the mystery of woman’s -true sphere of influence, so little -understood by the women themselves -who agitate for their rights.”</p> - -<p>“I am not disposed to admit,”I answered, -“that the incident in question -proves your case; for I know none of -your own countrymen, to say nothing -of the women, who understand the genius -of the English people, for to do so implies -an apprehension of the genius of -their institutions, and it is the incapacity -of foreigners generally to appreciate -these which causes them to regard our -domestic policy in the light of an unfathomable -mystery which it is hopeless -to attempt to penetrate, and our foreign -policy as a delusion and a snare.”</p> - -<p>“When your Government gets into -difficulties,”said Ivan,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">251</span> “it certainly -goes to work to get out of them in a -way exactly the opposite to that which -other European Governments, and especially -we in Russia, are in the habit of -pursuing. Foreign policy is with us the -great safety-valve by which the bubbling -passions of the country find a vent, and -our central authority takes refuge from -its troubles in foreign wars and schemes -of territorial aggrandisement; your -Government pursues a diametrically opposite -system, and considers, apparently, -that its best chance of safety lies in stirring -up domestic broils, and exciting the -people to fever-heat of political passion -among themselves. In other words, -while our statesmen believe that they -can best secure their own positions and -avert the perils arising from mis-government -by distracting public attention from -internal affairs and rushing into dangers -abroad, yours hope to escape the consequences -of their blunders abroad by promoting -revolutionary tendencies at -home. It would be curious to analyse -the causes which have resulted in such -opposite political methods, the more especially -as both, in their different ways, -are equally prejudicial to the highest -national interests, and, from a philosophical -point of view, would furnish a -most interesting political and sociological -study. As it is, my own country -produces upon me the effect of a dashing -young woman, still intoxicated with -her youthful conquests and greedy for -more, while she refuses to admit that a -gnawing disease is preying upon her -vitals, still less to apply any remedies to -it; in yours, on the other hand, I seem -to see an old woman in her dotage, who -makes blatant and canting profession of -that virtue which her age and feebleness -have imposed upon her as a necessity, -while she paints, and rouges, and pampers -herself with luxury, and fritters -away the little strength and energy she -still possesses in absorbing herself with -domestic details and the quarrels of her -servants, and leaves her vast estates to -take care of themselves. Considering -the dangers with which both countries -are menaced, the great difference which -I observed between the Governments of -the two countries is, that in one, government -takes the form of active insanity—in -the other, of drivelling imbecility. -After all, there is always more hope for -a young lunatic than an old idiot. We -may pull through all right yet, but we -shall have a very rough time to pass -through first.”</p> - -<p>“And you think that we are too far -gone ever to do so,”I remarked, rather<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">252</span> -discouraged by the gloomy view he took -of the present condition and future -prospects of my native country.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t altogether say that. It is -not with countries as with individuals; -the latter always pass from their second -childhood into their graves. But for -nations, who can say that there is not -reserved a second youth? though history -does not record an instance of any -nation having ever attained to it. The -process is probably a slow one; but in -these days of rapid development, to say -nothing of evolution, we cannot be sure -even of that.”</p> - -<p>“Still,”I pursued, a little nettled at -the severity of his judgment in regard -to my own country,—I did not care what -he said about Russia, of which I was -in no position to judge,—“I should like -to know upon what grounds you base -your opinion that England is an old -idiot. The expression, I think, is -scarcely parliamentary.”</p> - -<p>“In using the term to which you object,” -said Ivan,—“which, after reading -the language recently used in debate -in your House of Commons, I maintain -is strictly parliamentary,—I was not so -much alluding to England as to its Government; -and I will endeavor to explain -to you the reasons which lead me to -think that the expression is not misapplied. -There are at the present day, including -the population of the United -States, between eighty and ninety millions -of people who owe their origin to -the British Isles; who speak the English -language as their mother-tongue; who -possess in a more or less degree the -national characteristics of the race from -which they have sprung; who exercise -an influence over a greater area of the -surface of the earth than that of any -other race upon it; who directly control -over 250 millions of people not of their -own race, and indirectly control many -millions more; whose commercial relations -are more extensive than those of -all the other nations of the world put -together; whose wealth is unrivalled; -whose political institutions have hitherto -served as a model, as they have -been the envy of less favored peoples; -and who may be said, without fear of -contradiction, to lead the van of the -world’s civilisation. It is difficult, -when we spread a map out before us, to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">253</span> -realise that so small a dot as Great -Britain appears upon it, should have -given birth to these stupendous forces; -and one is led to examine into the processes -by which so marvellous a position -has been achieved in the world’s history -as that which these small islands must -occupy, even though that position seems -now about to be destroyed by what appears -to an outsider to be a combination -of national decrepitude and administrative -impotence,—for it is only when a -nation has itself lost its vigor, that it tolerates -imbecility on the part of its rulers. -The greatness of England has been built -up, not on the conquests of its neighbors, -or of nations equally civilised -with itself, as we have seen occur in the -cases of other great empires, but in the -comparatively easy subjugation of barbarous -peoples; in the occupation and -colonisation of countries sparingly inhabited -by savage races; in the material -development of vast tracts of the earth’s -surface; in the creation of new markets, -of new sources alike of supply and of -demand; and in the energetic and profitable -employment of capital in all the -regions of the earth. This was possible, -and possible only because her adventurous -sons who went forth into wild and -distant regions to occupy, to develop, -and to create, always felt that they had -behind them a motherland whose proud -boast it was that she ruled the waves, -and a nation and Government so thoroughly -animated by their own daring -and adventurous spirit, that they knew -that none were too humble or insignificant -to be watched over and protected; -nay, more, they were encouraged in -hardy enterprises, and often assisted to -carry them out.</p> - -<p>“During the last two or three years, -the circumstances of my life, into which -it is not necessary for me now to enter, -have forced me not merely to circumnavigate -the globe, but especially to -visit those British possessions, and those -seaboards of lands still relative if barbarous, -upon which your countrymen -are so thickly dotted as merchants or -settlers, and where British subjects of -foreign race abound, who carry on their -avocations under that British protection -which used to be a reality, but is now -only a name. Familiar as I have been -with Englishmen from my youth, I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">254</span> -found a spirit of bitter discontent rife, -which, even among your grumbling race, -was altogether a new feature in their -conversation, especially with a foreigner. -Many were making arrangements to -close up their business and abandon -the commerce in which they were engaged; -some, and this was especially -the case among the British subjects of -foreign race, were taking steps to change -their nationality. In some of the -colonies the language held sounded to -my Russian ears little short of high -treason; while I often heard Englishmen -in the society of foreigners say that -they were ashamed to call themselves -Englishmen—a sentiment which I do -not remember ever having heard one of -your countrymen give vent to in my -youth.</p> - -<p>“I only mention these as illustrations -of the fact which was forcibly impressed -upon me during my travels, that the influence -of England was waning, not in -Europe, where it <em>has</em> waned, but where -it might be recovered by a vigorous -stroke of policy,—but in Asia, Africa, -and America—in those continents from -which she derives her position and her -wealth. The waning of British influence -in Europe means, comparatively, -nothing, so far as British commerce is -concerned. The waning of that influence -in the three other continents means -national decay. It has not been by her -great wars, her European campaigns, -that England has achieved greatness, -but by her little ones in those distant -countries which your Government seems -ready to retire from, bag and baggage, -at the first word of a new-comer; and -yet one would suppose that nothing -could be clearer to a people not in its -dotage than this, that if they do not -protect their merchants, the latter will -not be able to compete with those who -are protected. If you desire proof of -this, look at the increasing substitution -of German for English houses of commerce -all over the world; and if commerce -languishes, food becomes dearer -for those very classes who cry out -against those little wars which, when -wisely turned to account have proved -your best national investments, and have -been the indirect means of giving food -and employment to your starving millions. -I see that there is some talk of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">255</span> -a committee being appointed to inquire -into the causes of the depression of -trade. Those causes are not very far -to seek; or rather, in another sense, -they are very far to seek. You must -travel from China to Peru to find them, -and they will stare you in the face. I -have been watching, while you are -squabbling over your Franchise and your -Redistribution Bills, how your trade is -slipping from you. So you go on fiddling -on the two strings of your electoral -fiddle, while Rome is burning. One -would have supposed that England was -old enough by this time to have discovered -that it would not improve her -voters to give them another shuffle; -that she had experience enough to -know that electors were like playing -cards, the more you shuffle them the -dirtier they get. With the interests of -the empire at stake, certainly in two if -not in three continents, you play the -ostrich, and bury your heads in parish -politics—parish politics of the most -pestilent and useless description. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">256</span></p> - -<p>“Do you want to know why trade -languishes? It is summed up in a short -sentence: Want of confidence on the -part of the trader; it cramps his enterprise, -damps his ardor, spoils his temper, -and crushes all the manliness out of -him. The commercial stability of England -was not built up by a lot of unprotected -females, which is the condition the -British merchant abroad is rapidly being -reduced to by the neglect and apathy -and indifference to his interests of his -Government. He is perfectly well aware -in every port there is a consul, that he -is considered a nuisance by that functionary, -who knows that in the degree -in which he prevents his complaints from -reaching the department which is supposed -to direct the foreign policy of England, -he will be considered capable and -efficient. No longer does he feel himself -to be the <i lang="la">Civis Romanus</i> of old days. -His sugar plantations may be destroyed -in Madagascar, his commercial interests -may be imperilled in China, he may be -robbed and insulted in Turkey; but he -is gradually being taught, by bitter experience, -that it is hopeless to look to -diplomatic interference for redress. -Meanwhile the British taxpayer continues -to pay for that expensive luxury -whose function it is supposed to be to -protect those commercial interests abroad -upon which the prosperity and wealth -of Great Britain depends. In like manner -the ties between the mother country -and her colonies are weakened by her -persistent shrinking from the responsibilities -and obligations which the welfare -and security of those colonies involve. -She sacrifices ruthlessly that -prestige upon the maintenance of which -the safety, and in some cases the allegiance, -of her subjects depends. She deludes -unhappy colonists into making investments -and settlements in half-civilised -States upon the faith of treaties, -which she ignominiously shrinks from -enforcing at the first appearance of danger, -and calmly leaves her savage allies -to be slaughtered and her colonists to -be plundered, as in the case of South -Africa; or she makes transparent display -of her timidity and weakness, as -has been conspicuously the case in her -relations with her Australian possessions; -or retreats from the protection -of her natural frontiers, as she has lately -done in India. And all this is in pursuance -of a theory of political economy -incomprehensible to the unprejudiced -observer like myself, that it is cheaper -and more advantageous to the national -prosperity to sacrifice the commercial -interests of the country than to incur -the risks and expense of protecting -them. The only explanation one can -give of an infatuation so incredible, of -a policy so short-sighted and so fraught -with disaster, is, that it is based on -ignorance—ignorance of the present injury -that it is working, and ignorance -of the dangers to which it is giving -birth. There can be no surer way of -precipitating the crisis which England -seeks to avoid, and which, when it -comes, must involve the utter ruin of -her trade, than the invitation which her -craven attitude offers to her covetous -and unscrupulous neighbors, whether -they be civilised or uncivilised, to encroach -to their own profit, until at -last the veil which is now before the -eyes of the public in England will be -torn away, and they will find themselves -suddenly called upon to abandon the -parochial details over which they have -been wrangling, for sterner work. It -will be too late then to regret the penny-wise -and pound-foolish policy which -plunged them into the mess: the only -question they will have to consider is, -whether it is not too late to get out of -it.”</p> - -<p>“I am a good deal surprised,”I remarked, -after having listened to the -unflattering utterances of my friend with -some dissatisfaction, “that you entirely -ignore all other considerations than -those of mere policy and expediency. -Granting, as you say, that the present -policy of England imperils its commercial -ascendency, are no other considerations -to be allowed to guide the policy -of a nation than those connected with -its pocket? Have we no moral duties -to perform, no example to set, no principles -to maintain? Or are we ever to -remain a nation of shopkeepers, fighting -unscrupulously for markets; grabbing -the territory of savages, under the pretext -of civilising them, which is usually -accomplished by the process of extermination; -and jostling all other comers -out of the markets of the world by fair -means or foul? Because these means -served us some centuries ago, and because, -if you will, our national greatness -is built upon them, does it follow that -we should cling to them in these more -enlightened days? If the moral instinct -of the people of England begins -to revolt against them, even to the prejudice -of the national purse, do our -money-bags constitute a sufficient reason -why we should remain in the Cimmerian -darkness and brutality of the middle -ages? Of all men you were the last -whom I expected to hear confound -moral progress with political imbecility.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">259</span></p> - -<p>“Nay,” returned Ivan, “I should -be the first to congratulate you on a -policy of moral progress, if, in that pursued -at present by England, I could discover -it. What moral progress is there -in a policy which has resulted in the -slaughter of thousands of unhappy -Arabs in Egypt and the Eastern Soudan? -Where does moral progress show -itself in the expedition which has -worked its weary way into the heart of -Africa, to fight against the naked savages -there? Where is the moral progress -of a policy which has necessitated -another military expedition to South -Africa, and new annexations of territory -there? What moral progress have you -achieved in Turkey, where you are -bound by treaty to institute reforms in -that part of the empire over which you -are supposed by the same treaty to exercise -a protectorate, the very existence -of which, under the policy of moral -progress, it has been found convenient -to ignore, because it involves responsibilities -towards an oppressed and suffering -people, whose oppression and whose -sufferings it would now be expensive -and troublesome to recognise, though -political capital enough is made out of -them when the exigencies of your local -party warfare demand it? The question -is, in what does real moral progress -consist? Certainly not in the blatant -profession of moral platitudes—the abstract -truth of which everybody recognizes—when -they are accompanied by a -practice which gives them the lie direct. -There can be nothing more demoralising -to the moral welfare of a nation than a -policy which is in flagrant contradiction -to its lofty moral pretensions. Not -only does it degrade the national conscience, -but it renders that conscience -an object of derision and contempt -among foreign nations. To be logical -and consistent, the politician ‘who is -in trouble about his soul’ must follow -one of two courses,—either he must -recognise the fact that national egotism, -like individual egotism, is a vice which -admits of no compromise, and that the -duty of his country is to love other -countries better than itself; that the -love of money, and therefore the making -of it, is the root of all evil; that when -the nation is metaphorically asked for -its cloak, it should give its coat also—and -when smitten on one cheek, should -turn the other to the smiter;—when he -is reluctantly convinced that, however -desirable this higher law might be, and -however indisputable its morality, it -is, under the existing conditions of -humanity, impracticable, then he has no -alternative but to base the national -policy upon the exactly opposite principle, -which is that which governs the -policy of all other nations, and assume -that his duty consists in protecting the -interests of his own country against -those of rival countries, which are all -engaged in an incessant competitive warfare -against each other; and he will -find, by experience, that any attempt to -compromise with the opposite or altruistic -principle will inevitably lead to disaster, -for it will involve that hesitation -and weakness in the conduct of affairs -which will encourage those rivals to overt -acts of offence and encroachment that -must ultimately lead to bloody wars in -defence of those national interests which -a policy of vacillation and of moral inconsistency -will have imperilled. Sooner -or later, it is certain that the force of -events will rip off the thin veneering -of cant which had served to delude the -ignorant masses, and to conceal either -the stupidity or the insincerity of its -professors. I say stupidity, for there -can be little doubt that among those -who guide the destinies of the nation -are many who honestly share the -belief with the public they help to mislead, -that to shrink from responsibilities, -to temporise in the face of danger, to -make sacrifices and concessions in order -to conciliate, will avert catastrophes -instead of precipitating them; while -there are others to whose common-sense -it would be an insult to make any such -assumption.”</p> - -<p>“But these others,”I observed, -“may, without any insult to their common-sense, -be supposed to entertain the -opinion that the possessions of the -British empire are sufficiently extended -and difficult to protect, to render any -further annexation of territory, or acquisition -of responsibility, undesirable.”</p> - -<p>“Doubtless; and in this I agree with -them. Indeed, the incapacity they have -shown to protect what they have got, is -the best reason they could assign for -being unwilling to have more; but it -does not touch the question of the principle -upon which England’s policy -should be based in her dealings with -foreign nations, and with her own colonial -possessions; in other words, what -are the most economical and at the -same time the most moral methods of -self-preservation? I put economy before -morality, because, whatever may be -the professions of Governments in practice, -as a consideration, it always precedes -it. If bloodguiltiness was not always -attended with so much expense, -people’s consciences would be far less -sensitive on the subject. Hence it happens -that highly moral financiers are apt<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">260</span> -to regard things as wicked in the degree -in which they are costly, while they are -too short-sighted as statesmen to perceive -that a prompt expenditure is often -the best way of saving a far heavier -amount, which must be the result of the -delay—or, in homely phraseology, that -a stitch in time saves nine. The most -economical and the most moral method -of self-preservation, then, will be found -in consolidating, protecting, and extending -the commercial position and moral -influence of the great English-speaking -people in all quarters of the globe. At -this moment, though surrounded by -enemies who envy and hate her, there -is no country more safe from attack -than Germany, because she is governed -by a statesman who never shirks responsibility, -cowers before danger, or, -in moments of difficulty, takes refuge -in compromise or concession. It is not -England, with her horror of war, that -has, during the last decade, been the -Power which has prevented a European -war, otherwise inevitable, from breaking -forth; the statesman to whom the -peace of Europe has been due, upon -whom that peace now depends, and who -is therefore doing the most for the moral -progress of Europe, is exactly that statesman -who never indulges in moral platitudes, -and whom his worst enemy cannot -accuse of hypocrisy. No one will -pretend that peace is not more conducive -to economy and moral progress than -war; but to secure it, a great military -position and a great national prestige -are alike indispensable. England has, -or should have, the first naval position -in the world, and, until lately, her national -prestige was second to none. These -advantages confer on her great responsibilities; -to part with them is to diminish -her powers of usefulness in the -world, and her mission of civilising it. -As the champion of civil and religious -liberty, she owes a duty to humanity, -which it would be a crime alike in the -eyes of God and man for her to relinquish, -even though it may cost blood -and treasure to maintain it,—for the -amount expended to maintain it would -be as nothing compared to the sacrifices -of both life and money which the abandonment -of this duty would entail upon -the world. I speak feelingly, for I -cannot conceive a greater disaster be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">261</span>fall -the human race, than to see the -place of England usurped by the nation -of which I have the honor of being a -humble member,”here Ivan smiled bitterly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">262</span> -“So absorbed are you in your -own vestry quarrels, that you either forget -or are ignorant of the place you occupy -in the regard of millions, who see -in England the apostle of free thought, -free speech, free institutions. Your -standard, which we look up to as the flag -of liberty, and which should be nailed -to the mast, we watch you with dismay -lowering to every piratical craft, while -the crew are fighting about a distribution -of provisions, and the pilot seems to -prefer running his ship on the rocks to -boldly facing the enemy’s cruisers. -Nothing strikes us members of the oppressed -and suppressed races as more -anomalous and incomprehensible, than -the fact that the party in England which -are most ready to compromise the honor -of that flag, and to haul it down on the -least provocation, are precisely that -party who are most loud-tongued in -their profession of sympathy for those -races to whom it is the banner on which -their hopes are fixed—the symbol in -their eyes of progress, civilisation, and -political freedom. Hence it is that all -those among us who are not absolute -anarchists, find ourselves unconsciously -withdrawing our sympathies from that -political party in your country, who, -while they style themselves the party of -progress and of advanced thought, are -in reality compromising the cause which -I feel sure they honestly cherish and -believe in, by destroying the prestige -and lowering the influence of the one -European Power which is its great representative—and, -to our own great wonderment, -are beginning rather to pin our -hopes for the future upon those whom -we have hitherto considered reactionary, -because they called themselves -Conservative and aristocratic, but who, -in this crisis of the fortunes of their -country, resist a policy calculated to impair -its supremacy. Thus, on a higher -principle than that appealed to by the -political moralists who direct the helm -of State, may the best interests of morality -be reconciled with those of their -own country; for it is by maintaining -the supremacy of England that the -principle which is identified with her -institutions, her traditions, and the -aspirations of her people, can be best -secured in the interests of that universal -society of which she forms part, and -towards which she undoubtedly has -moral obligations and responsibilities. -The party which seeks to evade them, -whether upon specious theories started -by <i>doctrinaires</i> ignorant of international -conditions, or upon penny-wise and -pound-foolish grounds of economy, are -in reality the party of reaction; for they -are the best allies of reactionists, and -are playing into their hands, as no people -have better reason for knowing than -the Russians, who have observed with -dismay the sympathy of your Prime -Minister with ‘the divine figure of the -North,’ as he has styled our ruler, and -his methods of government; while from -our point of view, the party of progress -in England, let them call themselves -Conservative if they so please, are those -who, true to the grand traditions of the -country, are determined to keep it in -the van of freedom, not merely because -its wealth and prosperity are due to that -absolute civil and political liberty which -imposed no check upon individual enterprise -or achievement, but because with -the preservation of its greatness are -bound up the most cherished interests -of the human race.”</p> - -<p>“Come, Ivan,”I said, laughing, -“you have wound up with a peroration -as much too flattering to my country as -you were too uncomplimentary at the -start. For an ‘old idiot,’ you have -ended by giving her a pretty good character.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all,”he rejoined;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">263</span> “I ended -by describing her splendid position and -advantages. I called her an old idiot -for either being unconscious of them, -or throwing them away consciously. And -I ventured to add a word of encouragement -to those who are struggling to prevent -these being thrown away, and to -assure them that, in their resistance to -the short-sighted and fatuous policy of -their present rulers, they have the cordial -sympathy of philosophic Liberals -like myself (I am not now speaking of -Socialists and Nihilists, whose lands are -against all parties) all over Europe. -One of your own most eminent philosophers, -himself a Liberal, has recently -written a book, in which he has shown -the danger by which the true principle -of liberty is threatened from the reactionary -tendencies of the democratic -autocracy. I merely wish to assure you -that we in Europe are fully alive to this -danger, and dread as much the despotism -which springs from the divine right of -mobs, as from that of kings. There is -to my mind as little of God in the <i lang="la">vox -populi</i> as in an Imperial ukase; and our -only safety between these two extremes, -which I should rather be disposed to -call infernal than divine, lies in the common-sense, -patriotism, and virtue of -those statesmen, politicians, and lawyers -who, holding a middle course between -them, as being both equally dangerous -to the principles of true liberty, endeavor -not merely to preserve the institutions -of that country which is the home -of liberty, but, by maintaining its -supremacy, enable it to resist attacks -from whatever quarter.”</p> - -<p>“I have lived too much out of England -for the greater part of my life,”I -remarked, “to be much of a party -man; still, from early and family association, -my sympathies rather incline -towards that party which now control its -policy, though I admit they have shown -but indifferent foresight, skill, or judgment -in grappling with the difficulties -which they had to confront. Still it is -only fair to them to remember that these -were left them as a heritage by their -predecessors; and that if they have -blundered somewhat in the effort to set -matters right—conspicuously in Egypt, -for example—it was not they who set -matters wrong in the first instance in -that country.”</p> - -<p>“That I entirely deny,”responded -Ivan, “as I think I can prove to you in -a very few words. But before doing -so, allow me to express my surprise at -your admission that, because you were -a Liberal in the days of Lord Palmerston, -who was pre-eminently the representative -of the policy which I have advocated -as being that which should animate -a British statesman, your sympathies -should extend to those who, while -they wear the old party livery, have entirely -departed from the old party lines. -His mantle has indeed fallen upon them, -but they have so completely turned it -inside out that it is no longer recognisable. -In the days when a party existed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">264</span> -which called itself ‘Liberal-Conservative,’ -there was no violent political -issues at home to check the current of a -domestic legislation which was ever -steadily progressive; while in foreign affairs -the Government of the day, whether -it was Conservative or Liberal, followed -the well-established traditions of British -policy abroad, which, if it had incurred -the jealousy of European Powers, at all -events commanded their admiration and -respect. The utterly inconsistent and -perplexing attitude which England has -now assumed, so entirely at variance -with the principles by which her foreign -policy was formerly governed, must of -necessity deprive her of all sympathy -abroad, for she has proved herself totally -untrustworthy as an ally—while all true -Liberals must deplore the agitation -which has resulted from a domestic legislation -that has a tendency unnecessarily -to exacerbate party feeling, and drive -people into violently opposite extremes. -Nothing is more fatal to all real progress -than a wild and unreasoning rush in the -direction in which it is supposed to lie, -because the inevitable consequence is a -reaction most probably equally unreasoning. -Moreover, these violent swings of -the political pendulum must always be -attended with the greatest possible -danger. A Conservative triumph which -is purchased at the price of acts of folly, -rashness, or weakness, perpetrated by -their opponents, is paid for by the country, -and is but a sorry bargain. It is -not under such violently disturbing influences -that sound and healthy Liberal -progress is made. And all history proves -that the liberty which is born in convulsions -invariably degenerates into a license -which culminates in a tyranny. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">266</span></p> - -<p>“And now one word in reply to -your allusion to the present position -of matters in Egypt, and more especially -with regard to that legacy of disasters -which the present Government maintain -they have inherited from the policy -of Lord Beaconsfield, and which, -with characteristic weakness, they constantly -invoke as an excuse for their -own shortcomings. When the Anglo-French -<i>condominium</i> was established in -Egypt—which is regarded as the <i lang="la">fons et -origo mali</i>—an <i lang="fr">entente cordiale</i>, which -was rapidly ripening into an alliance, -had been formed between Germany, -Austria, and England, in which, to a -certain extent, Italy was included, and -upon which Turkey depended for her -existence; it formed, therefore, a combination -of European Powers which -controlled Europe, and was in a position -to dictate, especially to Prussia -and France, both weakened as those -two Powers were by recent wars, and -by internal dangers and dissensions—both -being, moreover, the only Powers -in Europe whose interests clashed -with those of England in the East, and -whose policy, therefore, it was the interest -of England narrowly to watch, and, -if need be, to control. The faculty for -doing this had been wisely secured to -her by the European combination in -which she had entered, above alluded -to. Under these circumstances she had -nothing to fear in Egypt from an association -with France in the dual control. -Practically it became a single control; -for, with Germany and Austria at her -back, England could dictate her own -policy in Egypt, and, in the event of its -not suiting her French associate, could -even dare to enforce it without the -slightest fear of the peace of Europe -being endangered thereby. Her political -supremacy in Egypt was, in fact, -guaranteed to her by Germany and -Austria, who had no reason to regard it -with jealousy, while they obtained in -return that commanding position which -England’s adhesion to their alliance -secured them in Europe. So far, then, -from having succeeded to a heritage of -difficulty, the present Government succeeded -to one of absolute security. But -the whole aspect of the political chessboard -was changed when the new player, -who took over the game in the middle -of it, removed the piece which gave -check to king and queen, and which, if -it was not moved away, rendered final -victory a certainty. Lord Beaconsfield’s -policy in Egypt turned upon the -Anglo-Germanic-Austrian Alliance. -When, after his fall from office, this -was rudely ruptured by insulting expressions -of antipathy to Austria on the part -of his successor, the effect of which, -subsequent expressions of apology were -inadequate to efface—by a strongly -marked coldness towards Germany, and -a no less marked <i lang="fr">rapprochement</i> towards -France—the latter Power, relieved from -the dread of the European combination, -which had up to that moment held -her quiescent in Egypt, jumped up like -a jack-in-the-box, and favored us with -that series of intrigues which gave us -Arabi, and the evils that followed in his -train. Meantime, utterly isolated in -Europe by that rupture with the most -powerful friends in it, with which the -policy of Lord Beaconsfield had provided -you, you found yourselves betrayed -and deserted by the ally you had -chosen instead of them; while every -concession you made to that ally, and -every attempt at conciliation, only -plunged you deeper in the mire, in which -you have since been left to flounder -alone, a laughing-stock and object of -derision to all Europe, and more especially -to those Powers who might have -proved your salvation, but who have -since entered into other European combinations -from which England is excluded, -and which may prove in the -highest degree dangerous to her. No -assertion, therefore, can be more utterly -false in fact than the statement that the -heritage to which this Government succeeded -was one of trouble. So far from -it, the policy of their predecessors had -left them in a position of commanding -strength; and to lay the misfortunes -which have since arisen at the door of -those who had taken such precautions -that they could never arise, is as though -a general who should take over the command -of an army placed strategically in -an impregnable position, should abandon -that position altogether, and after being -defeated in the open field, find fault with -the nature of the defences he had abandoned. -But,” added Ivan, with a yawn, -stretching himself, looking at his watch, -and going to the open window, “you -will think that I have degenerated from -the philosophical spectator into the keen -party politician. This I was compelled -to be during my recent visit to London, -where you are nothing if you are not -partisan. The flavor of Piccadilly clings -to me still: how much more delicious -are the odorous night airs of these -southern climes! Look up at those -stars, my old friend, before you go to -bed, and thank them that you have been -spared the cares and the ambitions of the -Treasury bench.”—<cite>Blackwood’s Magazine.</cite></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">267</span></p> - - - - -<h2><a name="BLACKSTONE" id="BLACKSTONE">BLACKSTONE.</a><br /> - -<small>BY G. P. MACDONELL.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">268</span></p> - -<p>Blackstone has now been dead more -than a century, but neither lawyers nor -laymen have yet made up their minds -whether he was an intellectual giant, or -only a second-rate man of letters, with -a little learning and a pretty style, who -acquired popularity because he flattered -the English constitution. His friends -have pitched high their eulogy. Sir -William Jones, speaking to the freeholders -of Middlesex, who had little -reason to love Blackstone, called him -the pride of England, and in a grave -legal treatise referred to the <cite>Commentaries</cite> -as the most correct and beautiful -outline that ever was exhibited of any -human science. Hargrave, fresh from -annotating Coke upon Littleton, described -him as an almost second Hale, -and that as it were in the very presence -of Hale, in a volume of tracts half filled -with Hale’s legal lore. “To me,” said -Mr. Justice Coleridge, the nephew of -the poet, and one of Blackstone’s -many editors, “the <cite>Commentaries</cite> appear -in the light of a national property, -which all should be anxious to improve -to the uttermost, and which no one of -proper feeling will meddle with inconsiderately.” -And a distinguished German -jurist, exaggerating only a little, has -said that Englishmen regard the <cite>Commentaries</cite> -as “<i lang="de">ein juristisches Evangelium</i>.” -The history of the work is in itself -remarkable. If we except the Institutes -of Justinian, and the <cite>De Jure Belli -ac Pacis</cite> of Grotius, perhaps no law -book has been oftener printed. Not to -speak of the many adaptations, more or -less close, or of the many abridgments of -the <cite>Commentaries</cite> (one of these was “intended -for the use of young persons, and -comprised in a series of letters from a -father to his daughter,”) they have, in -their original form, gone through more -than twenty complete editions in England -since the publication of the first -volume in 1765. Nor has the homage -of parody—in the shape of a “Comic -Blackstone”—been wanting to place -them among the classics. In America -they have attained at least an equal fame. -In the speech on Conciliation, delivered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">269</span> -in 1775, Burke said that he had heard -from an eminent bookseller that nearly -as many copies had been sold there as -here. Two years later, one of the five -members appointed to frame the laws -of Virginia seriously proposed that, with -suitable modifications, the <cite>Commentaries</cite> -should be taken as their text. There -is reason to believe that they are now -held in higher esteem in America than -among ourselves. The American editions, -already nearly as numerous as -the English, still continue to multiply,<a id="FNanchor_9_9" href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">9</a> -while forty years have passed since we -have had an English Blackstone with an -unmutilated text. His own countrymen -are now content to know him -through the medium of condensed and -often lifeless versions, though it is not -so far back since, for those who aspired -to the amount of legal knowledge which -a gentleman should possess, Blackstone -was the very voice of the law. If on -many sides Blackstone received the -meed of excessive praise, his critics, it -must be allowed, did not spare him. -They have not been many, but they -have spoken so emphatically, and, within -certain limits, so unanswerably, that -they have aroused suspicion whether, -after all, Blackstone may not have been -a charlatan. He was naturally regarded -with distrust by lawyers of the -rigid school, who felt that legal learning -was gone if such primers as the <cite>Commentaries</cite> -were to displace the venerable -Coke. The book was not many years -old before the phrase “Blackstone lawyers” -came to be used as synonymous -with smatterers in law. But such criticism -had a professional ring, and perhaps -in the end did the assailed author more -good than harm.</p> - -<p>If nowadays the name of Blackstone -is held in diminished respect, the fact is -mainly due to the contempt poured upon -him by Bentham and Austin. They -mercilessly exposed his shallow and confused -philosophy. Bentham, reviewing -one by one his opinions on government,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">270</span> -maintained that they were not so much -false as wholly meaningless; and Austin -declared that neither in the general conception, -nor in the detail of his book, is -there a single particle of original and -discriminating thought. It is tainted -throughout, said the one, with hostility -to reform; it was popular, said the -other, because it “truckled to the sinister -interests and mischievous prejudices -of power.” Austin found nothing -to praise even in its style, which, though -fitted to tickle the ear, seemed to him effeminate, -rhetorical, and prattling, and -not in keeping with the dignity of the -subject.</p> - -<p>So long as his admirers could see no -defects in his work, and his critics were -blind to its merits, judgments of Blackstone -kept moving along parallel lines, -and never met. Standing at this distance -of time, when the <cite>Commentaries</cite> -have long lost the glitter of novelty, -when we have not Bentham’s cause for -anger, and when nobody retains a belief -in the infallibility of Austin, it should -be possible to treat Blackstone more -fairly than either his friends or his enemies -have done. There are signs that -a juster estimate is now being formed, -and the clearest of these is the testimony -of one who must know by his own experience -what were the difficulties which -Blackstone surmounted. Sir James -Stephen admits that he was neither a -profound nor an accurate thinker, that -he is often led to speak of English law -in terms of absurd praise, and that his -arrangement of the subject is imperfect. -But “the fact still remains,” he says, -“that Blackstone first rescued the law -of England from chaos. He did, and -did exceedingly well, for the end of the -eighteenth century, what Coke tried to -do, and did exceedingly ill, about 150 -years before; that is to say, he gave an -account of the law as a whole, capable -of being studied, not only without disgust, -but with interest and profit.... -A better work of the kind has not yet -been written, and, with all its defects, -the literary skill, with which a problem -of extraordinary difficulty has been dealt -with is astonishing.”</p> - -<p>Few authors ever had a clearer field. -Long before his day, indeed, the immense -growth of the law had been regarded -as a heavy burden. Lawyers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">271</span> -groaned, just as they groan now, over the -increasing accumulation of statutes and -reports. And yet Coke upon Littleton -remained the beginner’s chief guide. -Coke called his work the <cite>Institutes of the -Laws of England</cite>; but, whatever its -other merits, it lacks every quality which -the title would suggest. It is unsystematic, -undigested; it makes no pretence -of leading its reader from principles -to rules; and it spares him the details -of no curious anomaly. It is like -an overgrown treatise on the subjunctive -mood. The need had long been felt for -a better work; and the broad outlines -had been sketched by Hale in his admirable -<cite>Analysis of the Civil Part of the -Law</cite>, which Blackstone followed in -every essential feature. Some treatises -too had appeared written with a purely -educational purpose. Of these the most -successful, long recommended as an elementary -text-book for students, was the -<i>Institutes</i> of Wood, a Buckinghamshire -clergyman. It was a praiseworthy attempt -to present the law in a methodical -form, but it lacked literary merit, and -had all the dulness of an epitome. It -is memorable only as the book which the -<cite>Commentaries</cite> displaced.</p> - -<p>Blackstone saw his opportunity. Perhaps -no one else in his time combined -in the same degree the qualities which -the work required; nor was there any -one so capable of writing a law-book, -which could be read with interest by -educated laymen, and at the same time -be accepted as almost authoritative by -practising lawyers. Blackstone’s training -enabled him to gain the ear of both; -for he was not only a lawyer, but a man -of letters. His love of literature developed -early, and along with it a desire to -win literary fame. He does not seem -to have read widely, but the pleasure -which in his school days he derived -from Shakespeare and Milton, Pope -and Addison, was dulled neither by advancing -years nor by the absorbing demands -of the law. “The notes which -he gave me on Shakespeare,” said -Malone, who used them in his edition, -“show him to have been a man of excellent -taste and accuracy, and a good -critic.” He was something of a poet -himself; but the “Lawyer’s Farewell -to his Muse,” the “Lawyer’s Prayer,” -and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">272</span> “Elegy on the Death of the -Prince of Wales,” though they have occasionally -been unearthed as curiosities, -have long been swept away with other -rubbish of the kind. The following -lines, which are his best, and in which -we feel the very spirit of the <cite>Commentaries</cite>, -will not tempt further even the -most diligent seeker after neglected -poets. Their historical audacity would -amaze Professor Freeman.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">‘Oh, let me pierce the secret shade</div> -<div class="verse">Where dwells the venerable maid!</div> -<div class="verse">There humbly mark, with rev’rent awe,</div> -<div class="verse">The guardian of Britannia’s Law,</div> -<div class="verse">Unfold with joy her sacred page</div> -<div class="verse">(Th’ united boast of many an age,</div> -<div class="verse">Where mix’d yet uniform appears</div> -<div class="verse">The wisdom of a thousand years) ...</div> -<div class="verse">Observe how parts with parts unite</div> -<div class="verse">In one harmonious rule of right;</div> -<div class="verse">See countless wheels distinctly tend</div> -<div class="verse">By various laws to one great end;</div> -<div class="verse">While mighty Alfred’s piercing soul</div> -<div class="verse">Pervades and animates the whole.’</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The Pope who was lost in Blackstone -we can as easily spare as the Ovid who -was lost in Murray. Yet it was from -that love of literature to which his poetical -compositions bear witness, perhaps -in some degree also from the enforced -measure and restraint of verse, that he -acquired a style, which though it has -not the freshness and variety of Addison’s, -its most direct model, has the -same singular clearness and almost the -same ease and flow. By education, not -by accident, did he come to deserve -Bentham’s one compliment that he it -was who first, of all institutional writers, -taught jurisprudence to speak the language -of the scholar and the gentleman.</p> - -<p>Beyond keeping up a certain interest -in architecture, on which in early youth -he is said to have composed a treatise, -Blackstone seldom allowed himself to be -diverted from a persevering and varied -study of law. He divided his time between -Westminster and Oxford, and -long remained undecided whether he -should finally settle in the law-courts -or among his books. While, with hardly -any practice of his own, he was training -himself with unusual diligence, as his reports -of cases testify, in the practical -part of his profession, he had it clearly -before him that law is not to be mastered -by any one who neglects its history. -“In my apprehension,” he said, when -he was a student,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">273</span> “the learning out of -use is as necessary as that of every day’s -practice;” and he carried out this belief -by making the <cite>Commentaries</cite> as much a -history as an exposition. Even more -plainly than in his great work we can see -in his edition of <cite>Magna Charta and the -Charter of the Forest</cite> how unflagging were -his zeal and patience, and how minute -his investigations. His knowledge of -general history may have been superficial, -as Hallam said it was; he may -have had old-fashioned notions about -Alfred the Great, even though he does -warn his readers against the tendency -to ascribe all imaginable things to that -king; yet the <cite>Commentaries</cite> contain -what, on the whole, is still the best history -written in English of English law.</p> - -<p>The plan of the book had long been -in his mind; he was indirectly led to -carry it out through an attempt of the -Duke of Newcastle to corrupt him. -Lord Mansfield (then Mr. Murray) recommended -him to the chair of civil law -at Oxford, which was vacant in 1756, -but he lost the appointment, according -to report, because he was not hearty -enough in promising the duke support -“whenever anything in the political -hemisphere is agitated in the university.” -Murray, hearing of his disappointment, -advised him to lecture on -his own account upon English law. -He took the advice; the novelty of the -lectures and their ability made them -successful; and when the Vinerian -chair of common law was founded in -1758 he was appointed the first professor. -Making hardly any change in -form, arrangement, or mode of treatment, -as appears from his notes which -are still extant written in the neatest of -hands, he expanded the lectures into -the <cite>Commentaries</cite>. But while he never -deviated from his original plan, his store -of knowledge grew steadily throughout -the fourteen years which elapsed between -his first private lectures and the -appearance of his work. When the -question of <i lang="la">ex officio</i> informations was -debated in the House of Lords in 1812, -Lord Ellenborough spoke of him as -follows:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">274</span>—“Blackstone, when he compiled -his lectures, was comparatively an -ignorant man; he was merely a fellow -of All Souls’ College, moderately skilled -in the law! His true and solid knowledge -was acquired afterwards. He -grew learned as he proceeded with his -work. It might be said of him, at the -time he was composing his book, that it -was not so much his learning that made -the book, as it was the book that made -him learned.” The <cite>Commentaries</cite> were -not, however, the work of a merely -book-learned man; besides his attendance -in the courts as a spectator, Blackstone -had enjoyed several years of good -practice before the first volume appeared; -but Ellenborough’s opinion is -substantially sound. It is indeed one -of the striking facts about Blackstone -that while as years went on his mind -gained little in breadth, and his fundamental -ideas underwent no change, he -was able, by simple hard work and with -abilities not by any means the highest, -to make himself at length one of the -really learned lawyers of his time. Several -names might be mentioned which -on special lines of law stand far above -his; but there was no one who rivalled -him in that extent of general knowledge -which an institutional writer must possess. -The <cite>Commentaries</cite> have won the -peculiar distinction of being quoted and -of carrying weight in every political discussion -which raises questions of constitutional -importance, and also of being -cited in our courts (though under protest -from some rigid judges) as only a -little lower than that small group among -our law-books which have an inherent, -and not merely a reflected, authority. -We should do Blackstone grievous -wrong if from his popularity we assumed -that his knowledge was superficial.</p> - -<p>Thus, both as lawyer and as man of -letters, he was peculiarly fitted for his -work. Written with less literary skill, -the <cite>Commentaries</cite> would long ago have -been forgotten; if his learning had been -more minute he would never have written -them at all. A work which, partly -through favoring circumstances, but -mainly through its merits, has effected a -real revolution in legal studies, is not to -be dismissed by saying that its philosophy -is weak, and that it is hostile to -reform.</p> - -<p>There is certainly no profound nor -much original thought in Blackstone’s -four volumes. Nobody was ever made -better able to comprehend a difficulty in -English law by means of the notions on -laws in general to be found in that famous -chapter, which, as Sir Henry Maine<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">275</span> -puts it, may almost be said to have made -Bentham and Austin into jurists by virtue -of sheer repulsion. They lead to -nothing, and explain nothing. They are -rather the obeisances made by a polite -professor to his subject, or a lawyer’s -invocation of his muse, than the necessary -foundations of a system. Blackstone -repeats the venerable doctrine that -human laws depend on the law of nature -and the law of revelation, and that no -laws are valid which conflict with these; -but he never dares to apply it to any -rule of English law. And when he -comes to speak of parliament and monarchy, -he has forgotten that odd proof -of the perfection of the British constitution, -with its divine combination of -power, wisdom, and goodness, of which -Bentham made such easy fun. He does -not so much as pretend to be original. -He is so dependent on others that he -adopts not only their opinions but even -their language, and by no means always -does he let us know that he is quoting. -He does not refer to Locke when he is -stating, practically in Locke’s words, the -theory of the right of society to inflict -punishment; he never mentions the -name of Burlamaqui, who was his guide, -most faithfully followed, in the analysis -of laws in general; and he fails to acknowledge -half his obligations to Montesquieu.<a id="FNanchor_10_10" href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">10</a> -Indeed, the free use he makes -of Montesquieu’s famous chapter on the -English constitution would be appalling, -did we not remember that he was only -following a professional custom of appropriation, -which legal authors have -not yet wholly abandoned. There is, -in fact, scarcely a single sentence of that -chapter which has not, somewhere or -other, found its way into the <cite>Commentaries</cite>; -and, as often as not, the Commentator -leaves us to infer that the reflections -are his own.</p> - -<p>In estimating the value of Blackstone’s -work, however, we should not make too -much of the fact that his general theories -are either weak or borrowed. The truth -is that when we have got rid of them we -have not touched the substance of the -work itself; his exposition of English -law remains unaffected, whether they be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">276</span> -true or false. Moreover, these same -theories of his have a considerable indirect -interest; for as they afford us an -opportunity of observing how, at a turning-point -in the history of modern -thought, certain important ideas acted -upon an intellect, which, from its very -want of independence and courage, all -the better reflected the common opinions -of the time. His philosophy exhibits -the doctrine of the social contract in a -state of decay, and enables us to watch -the English mind preparing itself for -utilitarianism.</p> - -<p>Blackstone refuses to accept the social -contract in its naked form; he ridicules -the notion of individuals meeting together -on a large plain to choose the -tallest man present as their governor; -and he traces the growth of society upwards -from the family living a pastoral -life to the settled agricultural community. -His conception of social development -comes as near the current modern -theories as that of any thinker of his -century, save Mandeville. But the social -contract was too tempting to be altogether -abandoned. He speaks of it as -a tacit agreement between governor and -governed, of protection on the one side -and submission on the other, and from -this implied agreement he draws conclusions -as freely as if it were a historical -fact. Stating Locke’s theory without -any qualification, he bases upon the -contract (for he recurs to the word) the -right of society to punish crime. The -laws under which thieves suffer were -made, he tells us, with their own consent. -So he says that the oath of allegiance -is nothing more than a declaration -in words of what was before implied in -law. And he justifies the Revolution -on the ground that King James had endeavored -to subvert the constitution by -breaking the original contract. Believer -as he is in the law of nature, Blackstone -is more than half a utilitarian. True, -he has based all law on both the natural -and the revealed law; but by a fortunate -coincidence everything that tends to -man’s happiness is in accordance with -the former. Except where the revealed -law applies, the actual rule of life is that -man should pursue his own true and substantial -happiness. “This,” he says, -“is the foundation of what we call -ethics or natural law.” Throughout<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">277</span> -the whole of his work his tests are purely -those of utility, and with his broad principles -of unbending orthodoxy he mingles -theories, some of which the most thoroughgoing -utilitarian would think too -bluntly stated. Repudiating the notion -of atonement or expiation, he maintains -that punishment is only a precaution -against future offences. He treats property -as an adventitious right, unknown -in the natural state; and to the amazement -of some of his editors he has the -courage to face the logical result, that -theft is punished, not by any natural -right, but only because it is detrimental -to society. It is a <i lang="la">malum prohibitum</i>, -not a <i lang="la">malum in se</i>. He goes so far as -to say that where the law prohibits certain -acts under pecuniary penalties, the -prohibition does not make the transgression -a moral offence, or sin, and that the -only obligation in conscience is to submit -to the penalty. He affirms as a thing -beyond doubt that human laws have -no concern with private vices. And -he professes to defend the measures -which placed Catholics and Dissenters -under disabilities, not upon theological -grounds, but simply because all dissent -is subversive of civil government. We -may be sure that Blackstone would not -have spoken as he did if he had believed -that average men in his time would consider -his doctrines offensive; and taking -him as an index of contemporary opinion, -we can see that the field was ready -for Bentham.</p> - -<p>Blackstone’s hostility to reform has a -special interest. There is, perhaps, no -better example to be found in our literature -of the typical Englishman, who -loves his country, who considers its constitution -the best constitution, its laws -the best laws, and the liberty which its -citizens enjoy the completest liberty -which the world has known. He was -conservative by circumstances and profession, -as well as by temperament. His -opinions were formed at a time when -men lived politically at a lower level -than they ever did before or have done -since. No bold reforming spirit could -have grown up in the Jacobite unrest of -half a century, with the Whigs, to all -appearance, permanently seated in -power, and desirous of showing that the -party of the Revolution was capable of -moderation. There was no party of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">278</span> -progress. No clear line of principle -divided Whigs from Tories; so that it -became a plausible thesis that they had -exchanged positions. There were, in -short, no great ideals in the air, which -could stimulate to movement such a -sluggish man as Blackstone. Perhaps -some of his conservatism was due to his -profession. The instances are probably -rare of an English lawyer, with either -extensive practice or great learning, who, -on questions of personal liberty, whether -of religion or of speech or of trade, has -stood far in advance of the average -opinion of his age. The profession tends -to foster conservatism. The habit -of deciding by precedents and usage is -not to be shaken off when the mind turns -from law to politics; and the men who -declared that the common law is the -perfection of reason, and who thought -that it savored of profanity to speak disrespectfully -of common recoveries, could -not be expected to doubt the excellence -of the British constitution or the necessity -of Catholic disabilities. Something, -too, must be allowed for the influence of -a training which both narrows the scope -of reasoning, and within the narrower -limits makes it close and unbroken. A -mind so schooled will naturally shrink -from the gaps in evidence which the innovator -must boldly face and overstep. -May we not in the same way explain the -alleged conservatism of men of science?</p> - -<p>The main theme of Blackstone’s teaching -is that of contentment with a constitution -which to him seemed as nearly -perfect as any work of man can be. -“Of a constitution,” he says, “so -wisely contrived, so strongly raised, and -so highly finished, it is hard to speak -with that praise which is justly and -severely its due: the thorough and attentive -contemplation of it will furnish -its best panegyric. It has all the elements -of stability; for by a graduated -scale of dignity from the peasant to the -prince, it rises like a pyramid from a -broad foundation, diminishing to a point -as it rises. It is this ascending and -contracting proportion” he says, with -the law of gravitation in his mind, “that -adds stability to any government.” -“All of us have it in our choice,”these -are Blackstone’s words,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">279</span> “to do everything -that a good man would desire to -do; and are restrained from nothing, -but what would be pernicious either to -ourselves or our fellow-citizens.” He -does not, however, mean us to accept -this statement too literally. He allows -that the constitution has faults—“lest -we should be tempted to think it of more -than human structure”—and he is careful -to tell us what he means when he -says that this or that institution is perfect. -As the expounder and historian -of English law, he uses words of higher -praise than he would do if he wrote as -a politician. He feels that he is dealing -with the spirit of laws, and that it is not -his business to consider every change of -circumstances which may have impaired -their efficiency. To point out each defect, -or to suggest ways of amendment, -would, moreover, have been alien from -the purpose of a work in which he sought -to interpret the laws and to teach respect -for them; and therefore he does -not guard himself against exaggeration, -sharing the opinion of Burke, that we -only lessen the authority of the constitution -if we circulate among the people -a notion that it is not so perfect as it -might be, before we are sure of mending -it. He has in his mind the idea of -a theoretical perfection not incompatible -with practical injustice. In a well-known -passage he says that <em>by the law</em> as it stood -in the time of Charles II., “the people -had as large a portion of real liberty as -is consistent with a state of society,” -naming the year 1679 as the point of -time at which he would fix what he calls -the <em>theoretical</em> perfection of our public -law; and yet he observes that “the -years which immediately followed it were -times of great <em>practical</em> oppression.”<a id="FNanchor_11_11" href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">11</a> -This is in substance the view of Burke -when he says that the machine is well -enough for the purpose, provided the -materials were sound. Indeed there is -scarcely one of Blackstone’s thoughts -on politics and government which may -not be paralleled in the writings and -speeches of Burke. They were agreed -that our representative system was practically -perfect; that religious dissent is -subversive of civil government; and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">280</span>that the people were bound by their -original contract to a scheme of government -fundamentally and inviolably fixed -on king, lords, and commons. Burke -was among the first to read and admire -the <cite>Commentaries</cite>; and had Blackstone -lived ten years longer he would have -read the <cite>Reflections on the Revolution in -France</cite>, and applauded every word. We -might describe him, in fact, as a Burke -with the genius left out.</p> - -<p>Over Blackstone’s mind the antiquity -of the constitution exercised a potent -spell. The retrospective imagination, as -it has been called, made him regard with -reverence institutions that reach back -to a time whereof the memory of man -runneth not to the contrary. The parliament -and the monarchy, the sheriff, -the corner, and trial by jury, seemed to -be less the work of man’s hands than to -partake of the dignity and immutability -of the laws of nature; and the sense of -trivial anomalies was lots in the veneration -which he felt for a system of laws -embodying in unbroken continuity the -wisdom of a thousand years. It is not -an unworthy emotion. There are few, -let us hope, who have never been stirred -by reflecting on the growth of that English -liberty, which finds splendid voice -in the prose of Milton, and whose presence, -with “its gallery of portraits, its -monumental inscriptions, its records, -evidences, and titles,” glows in every -line of Burke. On its practical side the -emotion may be healthy or may be baneful. -We call him the crudest of politicians -who never reflects that our laws -have grown with the people, that they -contain the experience of a nation, and -are not the paper schemes of clever -theorists, and that they are surrounded -by traditions which no convulsion ever -swept away and which give them half -their strength. It is this that a greater -lawyer than Blackstone meant when he -said that time is the wisest thing in the -inferior world. But to timid natures -antiquity becomes the proof, and not -merely the evidences of excellence; so -that the mind is led to make a severance -between the past and the present, and -while respecting the constitution as a -thing of gradual growth to forget that -the growth continues. Blackstone’s -whole nature was affected by this illusion -of distance. It distorted alike his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">281</span> -historical beliefs and his practical judgments. -It made him maintain, as Bolingbroke -did, that our liberties are but -the restoration of the ancient constitution -of which our Saxon forefathers were -deprived by the policy and force of the -Normans. To Montesquieu’s opinion -that as Rome, Sparta, and Carthage lost -their liberties, so those of England -must in time perish, it made him give -the naïve reply that Rome, Sparta, and -Carthage, at the time when their liberties -were lost, were strangers to trial by -jury. It made him spend all his ingenuity -in defending the rule of descent -which excluded kinsmen of the half-blood. -And it was the chief cause of -the contempt which, like Coke, he had -for statute law. Though he never ventures -to say so in plain terms, as his -predecessors did with something more -than rhetorical belief, yet at heart he is -convinced that the common law is the -perfection of reason.</p> - -<p>Yet to represent Blackstone’s mind as -absolutely stationary would be unjust; -for now and again he puts forward a -gentle suggestion of improvement. He -draws attention to defects in the system -of trial by jury, and makes several excellent -proposals for its amendment. -He even anticipates the legislation of -our own day when he points out that -our laws are faulty in not constraining -parents to bestow a proper education on -their children. He recognises the possibility -of a change in political representation, -which would admit the people -to a somewhat larger share; and it is -doubtless on the strength of that mild -admission that Major Cartwright included -him in the list of men conversant -with public affairs who had expressed -themselves in favor either of a fair representation -or of short parliaments. -The criminal law seemed to him very far -from perfect. Within his own lifetime -it had been made a capital crime to -break down the mound of a fish-pond -whereby any fish should escape, or to -cut down a cherry-tree in an orchard. -These laws would never have been -passed, he says, with a confidence which -it is not easy to share, if, as was usual -with private bills in his days, public bills -had been first referred to some of the -learned judges for their consideration. -It was still felony without benefit of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">282</span> -clergy to be seen for one month in the -company of the persons called Egyptians. -He believed that this would not -have continued, if a committee were -appointed at least once in a hundred -years to revise the criminal law—a proposal -which his friend Daines Barrington -made about the same time and -worked out in some detail.</p> - -<p>His conservatism, or, to give it the -harsher name, his hostility to reform, -was in great part due to timidity and insufficient -knowledge of the world. He -was a shy and reserved man, whose life -was divided between one kind of narrowness -at Westminster, and another -kind of narrowness at Oxford. He was -shut off from the real life of England. -Among his books, which taught him that -the state should foster trade, he could -know only by hearsay of the new industrial -movement then beginning to transform -the country, and destined soon to -sweep away the absurdities which he upheld, -such as the innumerable attempts -to fix the rate of wages, the navigation -laws, and the statute of Charles II., -commanding the people to bury their -dead in wool. The very fact that he does -not suggest a compromise between restriction -of trade and its freedom, leads -one to infer that he had never seriously -thought about the question. Only with -regard to apprenticeship does he mention -that a doubt could exist, and then he -refrains from giving a clear opinion. -Amid the Toryism of Oxford, where he -had seen students expelled for Methodists, -Blackstone was hardly likely to -understand what toleration, much less -what religious freedom, meant. He deprecated -persecution, once indeed he -uses with unwonted energy the phrase -“dæmon of persecution,”<a id="FNanchor_12_12" href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">12</a> but it is -rather under the impulse of a mild -humanity than from any trust in the -people or any large love of liberty. -When a strong protest was raised by Dr. -Priestley and Dr. Furneaux against his -account of the laws relating to Protestant -Dissenters, whom almost in so many -words he called dangerous citizens, he -seems to have been quite surprised at -the attack. He wrote a pamphlet in reply -to Priestley, explaining that his aim -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">283</span>had been to expound the law not justify -it, which was not quite accurate, and -declaring that he was all for tolerance; -and he went so far as to expunge the -most obnoxious sentence, and to give in -subsequent editions a fuller and somewhat -fairer account of the law. Even -in its final form the passage is not worthy -of one who was speaking from a position -of really high authority, which should -have induced judicial calmness. “They -have made him sophisticate,” said Bentham, -referring to Priestley’s and Furneaux’s -attack; “they have made him -even expunge; but all the doctors in the -world, I doubt, would not bring him to -confession.” Yet it is not so much utter -illiberality of nature that the passage -suggests as simple inexperience, and his -fixed belief that truth must always be a -compromise. He was but echoing the -opinion commonly held by churchmen -in his time, an opinion which he had -never tested by contact with the people.</p> - -<p>He had an opportunity of gaining experience -as a politician, but in the House -of Commons he learned nothing, and -succeeded only in tarnishing his legal -reputation. He entered it in 1762, and -sat first for the rotten borough of Hindon, -and afterwards for Westbury till -1770. For the first six years his name -scarcely ever occurs in the debates. -The only fact, indeed, known of this -part of his political life, is a proposal -which he made when the repeal of the -Stamp Act was carried, that “it should -not be of force in any colony where any -votes, resolves, or acts had passed derogatory -to the honor or authority of -Parliament, until such votes, etc., were -erased or taken off the records,” The -second stage of the Wilkes case, after -the elections of 1768, raised him to an -unfortunate notoriety. Every circumstance -combined to make Blackstone the -most bitter of Wilkes’s opponents. He -had committed himself to strong opinions -on the absolute supremacy of Parliament; -he was solicitor-general to the -Queen; he was shocked at Wilkes’s -blasphemy; and Lord Mansfield had -been maligned. He had only one moment -of merely formal hesitation. When -De Grey, the Attorney-General moved -that the comments on Lord Weymouth’s -letter were an insolent, scandalous, and -seditious libel, Blackstone argued that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">284</span> -the courts were open, and that the -House of Commons was not the place to -try the question. The other acts of the -persecution had his complete approval. -He himself took the lead in moving that -the charge against Lord Mansfield was -“an audacious aspersion on the said -Chief Justice;” he advocated the expulsion -of Wilkes; he supported the -motion which declared that Wilkes being -expelled was incapable of sitting in the -existing Parliament; and he delivered -an able speech, in which he put forth all -his strength, in favor of the validity of -Colonel Luttrell’s election. He was -rash enough in that speech to give it as -his firm and unbiassed opinion that the -law and custom of Parliament on a matter -of privilege is part of the common -law, that the House had acted according -to that law and custom, and that Wilkes -was therefore disqualified by common -law from sitting as a member of Parliament. -He paid heavily for his “firm -and unbiassed opinion.” In the <cite>Commentaries</cite> -he had given what was, no -doubt, intended to be a complete list of -the causes of disqualification; and none -of them applied to Wilkes. Twice -during the remainder of the debate, first -by Mr. Seymour and afterwards by -Grenville, “the gentle shepherd,” was -this passage effectively turned against -him. “It is well known,” according to -Junius, “that there was a pause of some -minutes in the House, from a general -expectation that the doctor would say -something in his own defence; but it -seems, his faculties were too much overpowered -to think of those subtleties and -refinements which have since occurred -to him.” A paper war ensued in which -Junius, Sir W. Jones, Dr. Johnson, and -Blackstone himself took part. In an -anonymous pamphlet, betraying its -author, as Junius said, by “its personal -interests, personal resentments, and -above all that wounded spirit, unaccustomed -to reproach, and, I hope, not frequently -conscious of deserving it,” -Blackstone clung tenaciously and almost -angrily to his opinion, which he stated -even more emphatically than he had -done in the House of Commons. There -he expressly refrained from saying whether -expulsion necessarily involves incapacity; -in his reply to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">285</span> “the writer in -the public press, who subscribes himself -Junius,” he said as expressly that -incapacity is the necessary consequence -of expulsion. He retracted nothing. -Sincere, no doubt, in his belief that it -was Wilkes the blasphemer, not Wilkes -the demagogue, whom he had helped to -expel and incapacitate, he still held that -the House of Commons had acted not -only legally but wisely. He gave a -pledge of his conviction by repairing -the omission in his book. In its subsequent -editions appears, as if it were a -well settled rule, the statement that if a -person is made a peer or elected to serve -in the House of Commons, the respective -Houses of Parliament may upon -complaint of any crime in such person, -and proof thereof, adjudge him disabled -and incapable to sit as a member. His -earlier statement of the law, however, -was not forgotten, and “the first edition -of Dr. Blackstone’s <cite>Commentaries on the -Laws of England</cite>” is said to have become -a toast at Opposition banquets. -Nobody has now any doubt that Blackstone -was in the wrong, confounding, as -was pointed out at the time, the independence -of the several parts of the -legislature with the authority of the -whole. His tenacity and the prestige of -his name gave him the support of his -party; but before long, had he lived, he -would have suffered the mortification of -seeing the House of Commons expunge -from its journals all the declarations, -orders, and resolutions respecting the -election of John Wilkes, Esquire, as -“subversive of the rights of the whole -body of the electors of this kingdom.”</p> - -<p>Having failed as a politician, he was -made a judge. He sat on the bench -from 1770 till his death in 1780, and he -left behind him the reputation of having -striven to administer justice with scrupulous -care. He was certainly not a -great judge. He was cursed with indecision; -he was diffident of his own -opinion, and never strenuous in supporting -it; and in consequence, if we can -trust Malone’s account of him, “there -were more new trials granted in causes -which came before him on circuit than -were granted on the decisions of any -other judge who sat at Westminster in -his time.” The habit of mind which in -private life produced in him almost a -mania for punctuality made him as a -judge a strict observer of forms; and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">286</span> -he would not have consented, even if he -had been able, to make and modify law -as did his contemporary, Lord Mansfield. -The time was pre-eminently favorable for -earning a great judicial reputation; the -law, impeded by fictions, formalities, -and obsolete statutes, lagged behind a -nation whose commerce had increased -more than tenfold within living memory; -and public opinion would have dealt leniently -with a judge who shaped the old -rules to satisfy the new needs. But -Blackstone had not the courage for -such work; and, save for the case of -<cite>Perrin</cite> v. <cite>Blake</cite>, one might well tell the -legal history of the ten years which he -spent on the bench and never mention -his name. <cite>Perrin</cite> v. <cite>Blake</cite> is too technical -to be here described; enough to -say that it maintained inviolate the venerable -rule in Shelley’s case, with which -Lord Mansfield had been profanely tampering. -The case excited great interest -in the profession, partly from its own -importance and partly from some per<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">287</span>sonal -controversies to which it gave rise. -Lord Campbell, indeed, writing more -than seventy years after it had been decided, -says that when conversation flags -amongst lawyers the mention of <cite>Perrin</cite> -v. <cite>Blake</cite> never fails to cause excitement -and loquacity!</p> - -<p>The politician and the judge are forgotten -now, and only the commentator -remains. But his life was consistent -throughout. He had a reverence for -authority and a respect for formalities; -his mind turned more readily to apology -than to criticism; and destitute of ideals -he lived in a narrow groove, contented -with himself and the world. When he -and Serjeant Nares were calling for the -expulsion of Wilkes because he was a -blasphemer, Burke described their arguments -as “solid, substantial, roast-beef -reasoning.” The phrase paints to the -life the worshipper of the constitution, -who staked the fate of England upon -trial by jury.—<cite>Macmillan’s Magazine.</cite></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">288</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="LITERARY_NOTICES">LITERARY NOTICES.</h2> - - -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jelly-Fish, Star-Fish and Sea-Urchins</span> (International -Scientific Series). <span class="smcap">Being a -Research into Primitive Nervous Systems.</span> -By G. J. Romanes, M.A., LL.D., -F.R.S., etc. New York: <i>D. Appleton & Co.</i></p></blockquote> - -<p>Mr. G. J. Romanes, one of the most distinguished -of living English scientists, and a worthy -follower in the track of Darwin, has given -the world in his study of the lowest forms of -animal life a book of great interest to the general -reader who is interested in scientific matter. -At first glance the line of research followed -might not seem particularly engaging -except to the professional student, but one -hardly dips into the book without finding his -attention aroused and stimulated. The poetic -enthusiasm with which Mr. Romanes introduces -the subject quickly finds a response in -the mind of the reader. He writes:</p> - -<p>“Among the most beautiful, as well as the -most common, of the marine animals which -are to be met with upon our coasts, are the -jelly-fish and the star-fish. Scarcely anyone -is so devoid of the instincts either of the artist -or of the naturalist as not to have watched -these animals with blended emotions of the -æsthetic and the scientific—feeling the beauty -while wondering at the organization. How -many of us who live for most of the year in the -fog and dust of large towns enjoy with the -greater zest our summer’s holiday at the seaside? -And in the memories of most of us is -there not associated with the picture of breaking -waves and sea-birds floating indifferently in -the blue sky, or on the water still more blue, -the thoughts of many a ramble among the -weedy rocks and living pools, where, for the -time being, we all become naturalists, and -where those who least know what they are -likely to find in their search are most likely to -approach the keen happiness of childhood? If -so, the image of the red sea-stars bespangling -a mile of shining sand, or decorating the darkness -of a thousand grottoes, must be joined -with the image, no less vivid, of those crystal -globes, pulsating with life and gleaming with -all the colors of the rainbow, which are perhaps -the most strange, and certainly in my -estimation the most delicately lovely creatures -in the world.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">289</span></p> -<p>“It is with these two kinds of creatures that -the present work is concerned, and, if it seems -almost impious to lay the ‘forced fingers rude’ -of science upon living things of such exquisite -beauty, let it be remembered that our human -nature is not so much out of joint that the rational -desire to know is incompatible with the -emotional impulse to admire. Speaking for -myself, I can testify that my admiration of the -extreme beauty of these animals has been -greatly enhanced—or rather I should say that -this extreme beauty has been, so to speak, revealed—by -the continuous and close observation -which many of my experiments required: -both with the unassisted eye and with the -microscope numberless points of detail, unnoticed -before, became familiar to the mind; -the forms as a whole were impressed upon the -memory; and, by constantly watching their -movements and changes of appearance, I have -grown, like an artist studying a face or a landscape, -to appreciate a fulness of beauty, the -esse of which is only rendered possible by the -<i lang="la">percipi</i> of such attention as is demanded by -scientific research. Moreover, association, if -not the sole creator, is at least a most important -factor of the beautiful; and therefore the -sight of one of these animals is now much -more to me, in the respects which we are considering, -than it can be to anyone in whose -memory it is not connected with many days of -that purest form of enjoyment which can only -be experienced in the pursuit of science.”</p> - -<p>No matter how interesting investigation into -any set of natural phenomena may be, probably -none is more attractive than a study of -primitive nervous systems. Alike in the survey -of the whole of the animal kingdom and in the -study of the development of any individual form -there are certain broad truths evident. First -among these may be mentioned the significant -fact that the nervous system of all animals originates -from some of the cells of that layer of the -body which was originally the outermost. This -is the lesson taught by nature that the prime -necessity of living organisms is a knowledge -of the outer world, and that the most sensitive -and important system of organs primarily -stands in a direct relation to the outer world. -The investigations of Leuckart, Haeckel, Oscar -and Richard Hertwig, and Prof. Schafer fully -established the fact as to the origin of nerve -fibres and sense-cells from the outer layer of the -body, and as to the primitively diffused disposition -of the central nervous system. This -was first observed of the jelly-fish, but subsequent -investigation proved it also to be the -case with star-fish, sea-urchins and all the -forms of echinoderms. Haeckel, in 1860, showed -that the eyes of the star-fishes are nothing -more than elongated epithelial cells provided -with pigments, and throughout life quite superficial -in position.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">290</span></p> - -<p>Though Mr. Romanes gives a succinct account -of the authentic conclusions reached by -other students in this line of scientific research, -his book is mostly devoted to his own investigations. -He makes a great many curious observations -as to the habits and characteristics -of the classes of animals of which he treats, beside -giving a very complete account of their -physiology and morphology. The work is -fully illustrated with cuts, and though it may -seem at first to bristle with technical matter, -the reader will speedily find himself interested -in the studies and conclusions of the author.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Origin of Cultivated Plants</span> (International -Scientific Series). By Alphonse de Candolle, -Foreign Associate Academie of Sciences, Institute -of France, Foreign Member of the -Royal Societies of London, Edinburgh and -Dublin, etc., etc. New York: <i>D. Appleton -& Co.</i></p></blockquote> - -<p>M. De Candolle’s “Origin of Cultivated -Plants” (No. 48 of the International Scientific Series) -is a work calculated certainly to arouse the -attention of agriculturists, botanists, and others -aside from those interested in the dawnings of -civilization from the historical or philosophical -standpoint. The labors of both father and son -in this field have made the name of De Candolle -distinguished in science as worthy successors -of Linnæus, and thirty years’ labor in -the field of geographical botany have wrought -results of the most important kind. There are -few plants which are not adequately discussed -in this book in spite of the fact that, owing to -the great number of varieties which long cultivation -has produced, and the remoteness of -time when they were first reclaimed from nature, -great difficulties are offered to any correct -history of their origin. The author combats -the erroneous opinions promulgated so widely -by Linnæus, who, in spite of his greatness, -oftentimes took things too much on trust. -Many of these mistakes dated back to the times -of the Greeks and Romans, and certainly it -was time that some adequate hand should attempt -a correction. The data of correction -have been drawn from data of varied character, -some of which is quite recent and even unpublished, -and all of which has been sifted as -men sift evidence in historical research. The -author claims that, in spite of all the difficulties -in his way, he has been able to determine the -origin of almost all the species, sometimes -with absolute certainty, sometimes with a very -high degree of probability.</p> - -<p>Some plants cultivated for more than two<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">291</span> -thousand years are not now known in a spontaneous -state. This can be accounted for on one -of these two hypotheses; either these plants, -since history has begun, have changed so entirely -in form in their wild as well as in their cultivated -condition that they are no longer recognized -as belonging to the same species, or -they are extinct species. In case they are extinct, -this extinction must have taken place of -course during the short period (scientifically -speaking) of a few hundred centuries, on continents -where they might have spread, and under -circumstances which are commonly considered -unvarying. This shows how the history -of cultivated plants is allied to the most important -problems of the general history of organized -beings. The study of plants by our -author is divided into those cultivated for their -subterranean parts, such as roots, tubercles or -bulbs; those cultivated for their stems or -leaves; those cultivated for their flowers or for -the organs which envelop them; those cultivated -for their fruits, and those cultivated for -their seeds. In the process of investigation -we readily observe that De Candolle, who appears -a master of the tools of research in every -branch of study, has not only used botanical -resources, but those of history and of travel, -of archæology, pæleontology, and of philology. -The wealth of learning lavished by the author -on his work is sometimes almost bewildering. -One of the most striking results of the author’s -researches is that certain species are extinct or -are fast becoming extinct since the historical -epoch, and that not on small islands, but on -vast continents without any great modifications -of climate. M. De Candolle tells us that in -the history of cultivated plants he has noticed -no trace of communication between the peoples -of the old and new worlds before the discovery -of America by Columbus. The Scandinavians, -who had pushed their excursions as -far as the north of the United States, and the -Basques of the Middle Ages, who followed -whales perhaps as far as America, do not -seem to have transported a single species. -Neither has the Gulf Stream produced any -effect. Between America and Asia, two transports -of useful plants, perhaps, took place, the -one by man (the batata, or sweet potato), the -other by the agency of man or of the sea (the -cocoanut palm).</p> - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Adventures of Timias Terrystone.</span> -A Novel. By O. B. Bunce. New York: -<i>D. Appleton & Co.</i></p></blockquote> - -<p>Mr. Bunce, the author of several charmingly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">292</span> -written works of the essay character, among -which may be mentioned “Bachelor Bluff,” -“My House an Ideal,”etc., again challenges -the critical attention of the intelligent reading -public, in a form this time which will command -wider interest—the novel. The “Adventures -of Timias Terrystone” is in no sense a romance; -it is not a story of action, or in the -least melodramatic; it is not in any wide or -deep sense a novel of character, though the -personages have well-marked individualities -and act consistently with them. So far as the -actual life depicted is concerned, the story -glides pleasantly over the surface of things, -not professing or caring to deal with the more -deep and startling issues of life, but touching -the facts of every-day happening with a light and -graceful hand, and showing a very keen sensibility -to the fresh and lovely aspects of youth. -The hero is a young artist who, being a waif, -did not know his own parentage, and being -brought up in a very unconventional way, disdains -even at the last, when he discovers his -ancestry, all pride of birth and family. The -adventures of the youthful painter, though -chiefly of an amatory character, as his great -personal beauty and freshness of character appear -to exercise a great charm over the other -sex, are manifold, and both interesting and -amusing, he being a more refined and purer -Gil Blas. But we doubt whether the main interest -will be found in the mere story, though -novel-readers will not go amiss of genuine enjoyment -in this way. In the mouth of one of -the characters, a bluff, easy-going, wandering -Bohemian, our author places a great number -of keen, incisive, critical, or eloquent observations, -as the case may be. These thoughts are -so full of pith that they can hardly fail to be -widely quoted, and our readers will not have -to draw on their good nature to pardon us if -we give them some of these well-spiced plums:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">293</span> -“A man who goes through the world with his -eyes open learns something at every step; but -one who immerses himself in a library simply -converts himself into a catalogue.... What -are reading and writing, anyway, but a prejudice -of society? Do men get more character, -more self-reliance, greater capacity for dealing -with the problems of life, by filtering through -the brain the dreams of the poets and the philosophers? -I tell you that when our boys -should be scouring through the woods, rolling -down-hill, scaling the mountains, making themselves -splendid young Apollos, we shut them -up in a deadly school-room, which soon drives -the color out of their cheeks, vigor out of their -limbs, pluck out of their hearts, and snap out -of their brains. Civilization is a bundle of absurdities—it -is worse, it is a upas-tree, that is -fast poisoning the race.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“‘Men fall in love, they say, with beauty, -with goodness, with gentleness, with intellectual -qualities, with a sweet voice, with a smile, -with an agreeable manner, with a lovable disposition, -with many ascertainable and measurable -things, and yet we find them continually -falling in love with women who are not beautiful, -nor good, nor wise, nor gentle, nor possessing -any ascertainable or measurable thing. -You’ll find a hundred reasons given for falling -in love, or being in love, and rarely the right -reason—which is commonly simply because a -man cannot help it.... The philosophy of -the thing is just here—a woman’s eye glances, -or her lips smile, or her neck is white and well -turned, or she has a pretty hand, or she flutters -a fan gracefully, or she looks sympathetic, or -she beckons, or some other trifle as light as -gossamer, as valueless as a mote in the sun, as -much without significance as the fall of a leaf, -and the man is subdued, and immediately he -begins to declare that the woman is lovely, -when she is not; that she is gentle and good, -when anyone can see the shrew in her eye; -that she is wise and capable, when she is as -perverse as a donkey, and as empty as an -abandoned shell on the seashore; and so goes -on manufacturing qualities and attributes for -her out of air. To satisfy his judgment he -creates an ideal, and tries with all his might to -persuade himself there are good reasons for -his passion—and so there are, but they are not -written down in the catalogue of attractions. -He is in love because a mysterious force of -nature has touched him. The woman may be -unbeautiful, heartless, selfish, cruel, untrue, -coarse, frivolous, empty, but if the magic of -nature—something of the magic, I suspect, that -Puck used on the eyes of Titania—touches -him, he sees not one of these things in their -true aspect. Yes, the Titanias that have fallen -in love with men crowned with donkey-heads, -and the men that have fallen in love with serpents, -thinking them doves, are many—and all -because of a diabolism, or a mystic fury in -nature that delights in bringing incongruous -elements together for the sake of a dance of -delirium.’”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">294</span></p> -<p>“‘The reason why the world is as bad as it -is, is because it has been lectured so much. -Denunciation has never improved the morals -of the world since the days of Jeremiah to the -present hour. Many men are better for reading -Emerson—none are better for reading Carlyle; -in fact, the influence of your picturesque -scold like Carlyle is to make fault-finding look -like a virtue, and make people imagine that, if -they are only vehement enough in denouncing -other people’s sins, they will thereby clear -their skirts of their own. It is the vice of a -certain kind of piety that it is forever plunged -into the deepest concern about other people’s -iniquities. Your devout Catholic goes to -church to confess his sins; your acrimonious -Puritan goes to church to confess other people’s -sins.’”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“‘And too often their own virtues,’ said -Mary.</p> - -<p>“‘Let us not imitate the censorious spirit -in judging of him, for there is a great deal of -good in his class, but believe firmly that denunciation -cures nothing. There ought to be -organized an anti-scolding league.’</p> - -<p>“‘Of women?’ asked Mary, smiling.</p> - -<p>“‘I am compelled to confess,’ said Philip, -that the number of Jeremiahs in the world has -been—excessive! And all the time your sex -is so full of gentleness and sympathy! Perhaps -the abominable doings of the men have -been too much for their patience, and that we -deserve the rating we get. But while we deserve -it, that is not the way to reform us—we -will succumb to your kindly words much -sooner than to your objurgations.’...</p> - -<p>“‘If there were not a censorious and fault-finding -Mrs. Grundy, one very important restraint -on people would be removed,’ remarked -young Studley.</p> - -<p>“‘See how old notions survive!’ exclaimed -Philip. ‘The world must be driven and -whipped, in order that it may be tractable and -proper. Hang a thief, and you will stop stealing; -drown a scold, and you will stop scolding; -storm at a child, and he will grow up -virtuous! But, you see, no body of people -has ever tried my plan, and hence you know -how the old whip and penalty method has -worked, but you do not know how the moral -and sympathetic dispensary plan will operate. -For my part, I believe in human nature, and I -am convinced that a plan that works well in a -narrow circle would obey the same laws in a -larger circle. But shall there not be a truce to -philosophy?’”</p> - -<p>We appeal to our readers if these quotations -do not inspire an appetite for more. For our -part, we have rarely found more mellow, yet<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">295</span> -pungent wisdom put in more agreeable form. -Certainly the Bohemian, Philip, reminds us -very strongly of another personage, considerably -in the mouths of the reading public not -very long since, Bachelor Bluff.</p> - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Secret of Death. From the Sanscrit. -With some Selected Poems.</span> By Edwin -Arnold, M.A., author of “The Light of -Asia,” “Pearls of the Faith,”“Indian -Idylls,” etc. Boston: <i>Roberts Brothers</i>.</p></blockquote> - -<p>The leading poem, from which this collection -takes its title, is an adaptation from the -first three books of a celebrated Sanscrit poem, -the “Katha Upanishad.” The scene as described -at the beginning of the poem is in a -temple beside the river Moota Moola, near -the city of Poona, and here a Brahmin priest -and an English Sahib read together from the -manuscript, the learned Brahmin commenting -as his English pupil recites from the poem. -The thread of motive may be briefly described: -Gautama for love of heaven gave all he had to -the poor. He had given all, and at last gave -his son, Nachikêtas, to Yama, the God of -Death, the last gift he had remaining. The -youth, who had been trained in the highest -holiness, went humbly to the abode of Yama, -the King of Death, where he remained three -days before the god came. When at last -Yama came, he found that a holy Brahmin had -waited for him three days, and to atone for -this he promised him three wishes before he -should die. Nachikêtas asked for three things: -that his father should be comforted for his loss; -that he should reach the abodes of heaven -without first passing through the purgation of -hell. Then he asks the third boon of Yama:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“‘There is this doubt,’ young Nachikêtas said:</div> -<div class="verse">‘Thou dost give peace—is that peace Nothingness?</div> -<div class="verse">Some say that after death the soul still lives,</div> -<div class="verse">Personal, conscious; some say, Nay, it ends!</div> -<div class="verse">Fain would I know which of these twain be true,</div> -<div class="verse">By thee enlightened. Be my third boon this.’</div> -<div class="verse">Then Yama answered, ‘This was asked of old,</div> -<div class="verse">Even by the gods! This is a subtle thing,</div> -<div class="verse">Not to be told, hard to be understood!</div> -<div class="verse">Ask me some other boon: I may not grant!</div> -<div class="verse">Choose wiser, Nachikêtas; force me not</div> -<div class="verse">To quit this debt—release me from my bond!’</div> -<div class="verse">Then, still again spake Nachikêtas: ‘Ay!</div> -<div class="verse">The gods have asked this question; but, O Death!</div> -<div class="verse">Albeit thou sayest it is a subtle thing,</div> -<div class="verse">Not to be told, hard to be understood,</div> -<div class="verse">Yet know I none can answer like to thee,</div> -<div class="verse">And no boon like to this abides to ask.</div> -<div class="verse">I crave this boon!’”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Yama tries to evade the fulfilment of this request. -He will give the petitioner any and all -things, but this he would not answer, if he -could help.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">296</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“‘Choose,’ spake he, ‘sons and grandsons, who shall, thrive</div> -<div class="verse">A hundred years: choose for them countless herds—</div> -<div class="verse">Elephants, horses, gold! Carve out thy lands</div> -<div class="verse">In kingdoms for them. Nay, or be thyself</div> -<div class="verse">A king again on earth, reigning as long</div> -<div class="verse">As life shall satisfy. And, further, add</div> -<div class="verse">Unto these gifts whatever else thou wilt.</div> -<div class="verse">Health, wisdom, happiness—the rule of the world,</div> -<div class="verse">And I will fill the cup of thy desires!</div> -<div class="verse">Whatso is hard to gain and dear to keep</div> -<div class="verse">In the eyes of men, ask it of me, and have!</div> -<div class="verse">Beautiful, fond companions, fair as those</div> -<div class="verse">That ride the cars of Indra, singing sweet</div> -<div class="verse">To instruments of heavenly melody,</div> -<div class="verse">Lovelier than mortal eye hath gazed upon:</div> -<div class="verse">Have these, have heaven within their clinging arms!</div> -<div class="verse">I give them—I give all; save this one thing;</div> -<div class="verse">Ask not of Death what cometh after death!’”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>At last, in compliance with persistent solicitation, -the dread god yields, and in his answer -is contained the highest and subtlest teaching -of Indian philosophy. A short passage will -sufficiently indicate its character, for it is impossible -within any brief compass to clearly -elucidate the mysteries placed in Yama’s -mouth:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“‘If he that slayeth thinks “I slay;” if he</div> -<div class="verse">Whom he doth slay, thinks “I am slain,”—then both</div> -<div class="verse">Know not aright! That which was life in each</div> -<div class="verse">Cannot be slain, nor slay!</div> -<div class="verse indent20">“‘The untouched Soul,</div> -<div class="verse">Greater than all the worlds [because the worlds</div> -<div class="verse">By it subsist]; smaller than subtleties</div> -<div class="verse">Of things minutest; last of ultimates,</div> -<div class="verse">Sits in the hollow heart of all that lives!</div> -<div class="verse">Whoso hath laid aside desire and fear,</div> -<div class="verse">His senses mastered, and his spirit still,</div> -<div class="verse">Sees in the quiet light of verity</div> -<div class="verse">Eternal, safe, majestical—<span class="smcap lowercase">HIS SOUL</span>!</div> -<div class="verse indent4">“‘Resting, it ranges everywhere! asleep,</div> -<div class="verse">It roams the world, unsleeping! Who, save I,</div> -<div class="verse">Know that divinest spirit, as it is,</div> -<div class="verse">Glad beyond joy, existing outside life?</div> -<div class="verse indent4">“‘Beholding it in bodies bodiless,</div> -<div class="verse">Amid impermanency permanent,</div> -<div class="verse">Embracing all things, yet i’ the midst of all,</div> -<div class="verse">The mind, enlightened, casts its grief away!</div> -<div class="verse indent4">“‘It is not to be known by knowledge! man</div> -<div class="verse">Wotteth it not by wisdom! learning vast</div> -<div class="verse">Halts short of it! Only by soul itself</div> -<div class="verse">Is soul perceived—when the Soul wills it so!</div> -<div class="verse">There shines no light save its own light to show</div> -<div class="verse">Itself unto itself!</div> -<div class="verse indent20">“‘None compasseth</div> -<div class="verse">Its joy who is not wholly ceased from sin,</div> -<div class="verse">Who dwells not self-controlled, self-centred—calm,</div> -<div class="verse">Lord of himself! It is not gotten else!</div> -<div class="verse">Brahm hath it not to give!’”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It need hardly be said that such a poem as -this, though not of a character to be enjoyed -by those who read verse simply for its sensuous -charm or its dramatic and narrative pictures, -will yield fruit for interesting reflection -to more thoughtful minds.</p> - -<p>The other poems in the volume are of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">297</span> -lighter character. Among those specially noticeable -are the three Hindu songs, the pastoral -poem, “Neucia,” translated from the Italian -of the great Florentine ruler, Lorenzo de Medici, -who, if he destroyed the liberties of his -city, raised it to its highest place in literary -and art glory, as also in commercial and political -power; “The Epic of the Lion;” “The -Wreck of the Northern Belle;”and “Amadis -of Gaul to Don Quixote de La Mancha,” The -latter, which is from the Spanish, is a little -gem:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Thou who did’st imitate the mournful manner</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Of my most lonely and despised Life,</div> -<div class="verse">And—leaving joy for suffering and strife—</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Upon the bare hillside did’st pitch thy banner!</div> -<div class="verse">Thou whose unshamed eyes with tears oft ran over—</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Salt dripping tears—when giving up all proper</div> -<div class="verse">Vessels of use, silver and tin and copper,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Thou atest earth’s herbs on the earth, a woful dinner—</div> -<div class="verse">Rest thou content, Sir Knight! Ever and ever,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Or at the least whilst through the hemispheres</div> -<div class="verse">Golden Apollo drives his glittering mares—</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Famous and praised shall be thy high endeavor!</div> -<div class="verse">Thy land of birth the glory of all nations,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Thy chroniclers the crown of reputation.”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The volume, on the whole, very well sustains -Edwin Arnold’s growing reputation as one of -the first half dozen of the contemporary English -poets.</p> - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Greater London: A Narrative of Its History, -Its People, and Its Places.</span> By -Edward Walford, M.A., joint Author of -“Old and New London.” Illustrated with -Numerous Engravings. Vol. II. London, -Paris, and New York: <i>Cassell & Co., Limited</i>.</p></blockquote> - -<p>Mr. Walford’s reputation needs no exploitation -in the line of work which he has followed, -just as good wine needs no bush. He has -done much to embalm the literary and historic -glory of London and its environs in the past, -and the present volume, which completes -“Greater London,” is no less interesting than -its predecessors. All the celebrated and interesting -spots in the vicinity of London, their -traditions, history, personal and literary associations, -etc., are described not only as a labor -of love, but with a wealth of knowledge in detail. -It is not easy to characterize the mass of -information given, it covers so wide and varied -a field. Certainly the reader of English history -will find that he is helped very materially -to a vivid realization of the great personages -and events which have made the record of -England’s past so dramatic and fascinating. -Such books as these are not merely interesting -in themselves, but throw a flood of light on the -mind of the reader.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">298</span></p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<h2 id="FOREIGN_LITERARY_NOTES">FOREIGN LITERARY NOTES.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Abbé Liszt is engaged on the fourth -volume of his Memoirs. The work is expected -to fill six volumes. The first volume is to -appear immediately.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> authorities of the Imperial Library of -St. Petersburg intend to bring out a palæographical -series, containing specimens of -their most important Greek, Latin, Slavonic, -French, and other manuscripts.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">M. Renan’s</span> health has improved, but his -projected tour in Palestine is postponed on -account of the disturbed condition of the -East. His lectures at the Collège de France -on the Old Testament are attended by persons -of both sexes and listened to with much interest.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">A praiseworthy</span> step has been taken by -the Edinburgh Town Council in resolving -to place memorial tablets on all spots of -historical interest in the city. The first place -to receive this mark of attention is the site -in Chambers Street (formerly College Wynd) -of the house where Sir Walter Scott was -born; and it has also been decided to erect -a memorial stone over the grave of the novelist’s -father in Greyfriars’ Churchyard.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Senate of Hamburg has made a gift of -1,000 marks to Herr Karl Theodor Gædertz, -the author of <cite>Geschichte des Niederdeutschen -Schauspiels</cite>, in acknowledgment of the value -of his work in the illustration of the literary -history of Hamburg. The present was made -through the Hanseatic Minister in Berlin, -where Herr Gædertz resides.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">A biography</span> of the late Richard Lepsius -is in preparation by his pupil and friend Prof. -G. Ebers. The author has had the diaries, -letters, and other papers of Lepsius placed at -his disposal for this purpose.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> successor of the lamented Prof. Lepsius -at the Royal Library at Berlin is not yet -appointed. We are glad to learn that the -post will not be filled by a great name only, -but by a specialist. This is, in fact, greatly -needed, as the Berlin library is one of the -least accessible in Europe to scholars in general. -Books are given out but twice a day, -and then only if they have been asked for the -previous day.</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Count Paul Vasali</span>,” whose lively -sketches of Viennese society in the <cite>Nouvelle -Revue</cite> have just been completed, announces -that he intends shortly to commence a similar -series on society in London.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">299</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">A collection</span> of unpublished letters of the -Countess of Albany is being prepared for the -press by Prof. Camillo Antona-Traversi. It is -stated that these letters far exceed in interest -all the specimens hitherto printed of the correspondence -of the Countess.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">Says</span> the <cite>Athenæum</cite>. The Trustees of Cornell -University have invited Mr. Eugene -Schuyler to give a course of lectures on the -diplomatic and consular service of the United -States. The course is to be in connection -with the Department of History and Political -Science. It is hoped that these new lectures, -by supplementing those already given in the -university in connexion with international law -and history, will aid in training men to compete -for positions in the service when a proper -reform shall be made in the matter of appointments.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> study of palæography is receiving increased -attention just now in Italy. A short -time since a palæographical school was founded -at Naples, under the direction of the learned -archivist, Dr. A. Miola. More recently the -Pope has established at the Vatican a similar -institution, which he has placed under the -management of Father Carini.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> <cite>Revue Politique et Littéraire</cite> states that -the MS. of two unpublished tales by Perrault -has just been discovered. The titles are “La -Fée des Perles” and “Le Petit Homme de -Bois.” It is added that the MS. will be offered -to the Bibliothèque nationale.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">A correspondent</span> writes from Paris that -M. Victor Hugo seemed strong and well on -his birthday, though troubled with deafness. -He expressed his gratification at the Laureate’s -sonnet, which made a deep impression on -him at the time of its publication, and which -he has not forgotten.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> correspondent of the <cite>Academy</cite>, M. Lambros, -has found in a MS. of the fourteenth -century, belonging to the Ministry of Education -at Athens, a collection, in form of a dialogue, -from the works of Menander and Philistion. -Boissonade printed a similar one from -a Paris MS. to be found in Meineke, “Fragm. -Com. Græc.,” iv. 335 ff. That consists, however, -of only fifty-four verses, while the Athens -one contains 350. The MS. also contains a -collection of 415 maxims from Menander, each -consisting of a single line.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> French edition of Mr. H. M. Stanley’s -book on the Congo, which, as recently announced, -is to be published in Brussels, will,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">300</span> -we are informed, be translated by Mr. Gerard -Harry, one of the editors of the <cite>Independance -belge</cite> and of the <cite>Mouvement géographique</cite>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. R. L. Stevenson’s</span> second series of -“New Arabian Nights” will be called, not -“The Man in the Sealskin Coat,” as at first -announced, but “The Dynamiter.” Its purpose -is comic. It consists of a “Prologue” and an -“Epilogue,” both in the Cigar Divan (in -Rupert Street) to which, as readers of the -first series may remember, the chance of -revolution relegated Prince Florizel of Bohemia; -of a certain number of “adventures;” -and of a set of subsidiary stories, “The -Fair Cuban,” “The Brown Box,”“The Destroying -Angel,” and “The Superfluous Mansion.” -It will be published almost at once, -we believe.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Ludwig Geiger</span> has begun a new -journal which promises to be of great literary -importance, <cite>Vierteljahrsschrift für Kultur und -Litteratur der Renaissance</cite>. (Leipzig: Seeman.) -In the first number the editor contributes a -very thorough study of the life and writings -of Publio Fausto Andrelini, of Forli, who -taught in Paris from 1489 to 1518, and did -much to quicken the impulse of humanism in -France. Herr Grimm examines Vasari’s -authority for the statement that Michelangelo -finished four statues of captives for the tomb -of Julius II. He comes to the conclusion that -Vasari was mistaken, and that only two, now -in the Louvre, were really his work. Herr -Zupitza criticises “Three Middle-English versions -of Boccaccio’s story of Ghismonda and -Guiscardo”—one by Banister, a second by -Walter, and a third anonymous. Besides these -articles are published unprinted letters of -Guarino and Reuchlin. This new quarterly -journal has every prospect of filling a decided -need in literature, and bringing to light much -new material for literary history.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> a recent number of <cite>Deutsche Rundschau</cite> -Herr Herzog gives a vivid sketch of -modern progress in an article on “Die Einwirkungen -der modernen Verkehrsmittel auf -die Culturentwicklung.” His general conclusion -is that the discovery of railways and -the electric telegraph has tended to democratise -society and substitute practical materialism -for any moral ideal of life. Only when -commerce has become truly world-wide, and -national interests have ceased to jar and conflict, -must we look for a world-state in which -ideal ends again will meet with due recognition. -Freiherr von Lilicronen, in a paper<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">301</span> -on “Die Kunst der Conversation,” undertakes -the defence of German “Ernst” against -French “esprit” as a basis for social life. An -English bystander is probably inclined to suggest -a happy blending of the two. Dr. H. -Hüffer publishes some hitherto unprinted letters -of Heine to his friend Johann Hermann -Detmold. They are the scanty records of a -friendship of thirty years, and are of great -importance for Heine’s biography, especially -as regards his life in Paris and his relations -to his wife.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> an exhaustive paper recently read before -the Académie des Inscriptions (<cite>La Donation de -Hugues, Marquis de Toscane, au Saint Sépulcre, -et les etablissements latins de Jérusalem au Xe -siècle</cite>), M. Riant reminds us how little is known -of the history of Palestine previous to the time -of the Crusades from the Latin side, although -much has been done of late years to elucidate -its history in connection with the Greek Church. -He makes the re-examination of an important -grant of property by the Duke of Tuscany, in -<span class="smcap lowercase">A.D.</span> 993, to the Holy Sepulchre and St. Maria -Latina the occasion for a sketch of the Latin -occupation from the end of the sixth to the -end of the eleventh centuries, showing especially -the nature of Charlemagne’s protectorate -of the holy places. The document itself -he subjects to a searching criticism, calling -up, while so doing, a most striking figure -in the Abbé Guarin, of Cuxa (one of the grantees), -an eloquent ecclesiastic of great influence -in both France and Italy, and a wide traveller.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2 id="MISCELLANY">MISCELLANY.</h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Learning to Ride.</span>—Six half-hour rides on -six successive days will do infinitely more -towards moulding the muscles to the equestrian -form than three lessons of two hours -each, with an interval of a day between. When -the services of a competent teacher cannot be -had, the next best aid is that of a good model -to imitate: not a soldier, although some of -the very finest horsemen are found among -cavalry officers, because a soldier has to follow -rules which do not affect a civilian; not a -huntsman, because to the best huntsmen the -horse is only a machine, and one hand is -always occupied with the horn or the whip; -but from watching a clever colt-breaker or accomplished -professional steeplechase rider -very useful lessons may be learned. It may -safely be assumed that any man of forty, not -disqualified by physical defeats or oppressed -with excessive corpulence, may, with patience,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">302</span> -perseverance, and pluck, without rashness, -learn how to ride and how to enjoy riding any -well-broken horse, without looking ridiculous, -after from fifty to sixty well arranged rides, -within the space of three months. But it -is a sort of exercise that cannot be taken -up and abandoned for a long interval with -impunity. Even practised horsemen suffer -severely after a certain time of life, if, after -a long cessation from horse exercise, they -attempt the feats of their youth; feverishness, -indigestion, a fluttering heart, a disordered -liver, remind them that for long -days the man requires preparation as much as -the horse. A great deal of the comfort of riding -depends on proper garments for the lower -limbs. Theoretically, there is no riding-dress -so comfortable as well-made breeches and -boots either of the modern cavalry or the plain -“butcher pattern.” The next best substitute -is a pair of leather overalls, fastened at the -sides by buttons, not with springs. But those -whose age and position would make boots for -riding in a town objectionable must pay attention -to their trousers. The material for riding-trousers -should be thick woollen, and may -be dark—there are some very nice partly-elastic -materials in dark colors—they must be constructed -by a real trouser-maker, who will -make you sit down when he measures you, -and they must be worn with straps whether -straps are in fashion or not. Wellington boots -are the best with trousers; shoes are quite out -of the question. Trousers without straps, -slipping up the leg of a timid horseman, are an -acute form of unnecessary misery, which was -the fashion for many years up to 1877, when -straps again appeared on the trousers of the -more correct riders in Rotten Row.—<cite>Illustrated -Book of the Horse.</cite></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Tragic Barring-out.</span>—In the inner part -of Riddell’s Close stands the house of Bailie -John Macmorran, whose tragic death made a -great stir at its time, threw the city into painful -excitement, and tarnished the reputation of the -famous old High School. The conduct of the -scholars there had been bad and turbulent for -some years, but it reached a climax on September -15th, 1595. On a week’s holiday being -refused, the boys were so exasperated, -being chiefly “gentilmane’s bairnes,” that -they formed a compact for vengeance in the -true spirit of the age; and, armed with swords -and pistols, took possession at midnight of -the ancient school in the Blackfriars Gardens, -and declining to admit the masters or anyone<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">303</span> -else, made preparation to stand a siege, setting -all authority at defiance. The doors were -not only shut but barricaded and strongly -guarded within; all attempts to storm the boy-garrison -proved impracticable, and all efforts -at reconciliation were unavailing. The Town -Council lost patience, and sent Bailie John -Macmorran, one of the wealthiest merchants -in the city (though he had begun life as a servant -to the Regent Morton), with a posse of -city officers, to enforce the peace. On their -appearance in the school-yard the boys became -simply outrageous, and mocked them as -“buttery carles,” daring anyone to approach -at his peril. “To the point likely to be first -attacked,” says Steven, in his history of the -school, “they were observed to throng in a -highly excited state, and each seemed to vie -with his fellow in threatening instant death -to the man who should forcibly attempt to -displace them. William Sinclair, son of the -Chancellor of Caithness, had taken a conspicuous -share in this barring out, and he now -appeared foremost, encouraging his confederates,” -and stood at a window overlooking one -of the entrances which the Bailie ordered the -officers to force, by using a long beam as a -battering-ram, and he had nearly accomplished -his perilous purpose, when a ball in -the forehead from Sinclair’s pistol slew him -on the spot, and he fell on his back. Panic-stricken, -the boys surrendered. Some effected -their escape, and others, including Sinclair -and the sons of Murray of Springiedale, and -Pringle of Whitebank, were thrown into -prison. Macmorran’s family were too rich to -be bribed, and clamored that they would have -blood for blood. On the other hand, “friends -threatened death to all the people of Edinburgh -if they did the child any harm, saying -they were not wise who meddled with -scholars, especially <em>gentlemen’s sons</em>,” and -Lord Sinclair, as chief of the family to which -the young culprit belonged, moved boldly in -his behalf, and procured the intercession of -King James with the magistrates, and in the -end all the accused got free, including the slayer -of the Bailie, who lived to become Sir -William Sinclair of Mey, in 1631, and the -husband of Catherine Ross, of Balnagowan, -and from them the present Earls of Caithness -are descended.—<cite>Old and New Edinburgh.</cite></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><span class="smcap">Intelligence in Cats.</span>—Cats are like oysters, -in that no one is neutral about them; -everyone is, explicitly or implicitly, friendly -or hostile to them. And they are like chil<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">304</span>dren -in their power of discovering, by a rapid -and sure instinct, who likes them and who -does not. It is difficult to win their affection; -and it is easy to forfeit what it is hard to win. -But when given, their love, although less demonstrative, -is more delicate and beautiful -than that of a dog. Who that is on really intimate -terms with a cat has not watched its -dismay at the signs of packing up and leaving -home? We ourselves have known a cat -who would recognise his master’s footstep -after a three months’ absence, and come out -to meet him in the hall, with tail erect, and -purring all over as if to the very verge of -bursting. And another cat we know, who -comes up every morning between six and -seven o’clock to wake his master, sits on the -bed, and very gently feels first one eyelid and -then the other with his paw. When an eye -opens, but not till then, the cat sets up a loud -purr, like the prayer of a fire-worshipper to -the rising sun. Those who say lightly that -cats care only for places, and not for persons, -should go to the Cat Show at the Crystal Palace, -where they may see recognitions between cat -and owner that will cure them of so shallow -an opinion. When we were last there, one -striking instance fell in our way. Cats greatly -dislike these exhibitions; a cat, as a rule, is -like Queen Vashti, unwilling to be shown, -even to the nobles, at the pleasure of an Ahasuerus. -Shy, sensitive, wayward, and independent, -a cat resents being placed upon a cushion -in a wire cage, and exposed to the unintelligent -criticism, to say nothing of the fingers -of a mob of sightseers. One very eminent -cat, belonging to the Masters’ Common -Room at Christ Church, Oxford, whose size -and beauty have on several occasions entailed -on him the hard necessity of attending a cat -show, takes, it is said, three days to recover -from the sense of humiliation and disgust -which he feels, whether he gets a prize or -not. On the occasion to which we refer, a -row of distinguished cats were sitting, each on -his cushion, with their backs turned to the -sightseers, while their faces, when from time -to time visible, were expressive of the deepest -gloom and disgust. Presently two little girls -pushed through the crowd to the cage of one -of the largest of these cats, crying, “There’s -‘Dick’!” Instantly the great cat turned round, -his face transfigured with joy, purred loudly, -and endeavored to scratch open the front of -the cage, that he might rejoin his little friends, -who were with difficulty persuaded to leave -him at the show.—<cite>Spectator.</cite></p> - - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1_1" href="#FNanchor_1_1" class="label">1</a> -It is often associated unfairly with the illustrious -name of the late Mr. Darwin. His special -views lend themselves indeed to Haeckelianism, -and have been pressed into its service; -yet they are by no means to be identified -therewith. As Professor Huxley has pointed -out with his usual lucidity and force, Darwin’s -theory can be made to accord with the most -thoroughgoing teleology.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2_2" href="#FNanchor_2_2" class="label">2</a> -See Todd’s <cite>Cyclopædia of Anatomy and -Physiology</cite>, vol. iii. p. 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3_3" href="#FNanchor_3_3" class="label">3</a> -<cite>L’Habitude et l’Instinct.</cite> Baillière. Paris. -1875.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4_4" href="#FNanchor_4_4" class="label">4</a> -As Mr. Spalding has shown. To him I -am indebted for the other facts about young -birds given in the text.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5_5" href="#FNanchor_5_5" class="label">5</a> -<cite>The Unity of Nature</cite>, chap. iii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6_6" href="#FNanchor_6_6" class="label">6</a> -See <cite>Magazine of Natural History</cite>, vol. iv. -p. 206.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7_7" href="#FNanchor_7_7" class="label">7</a> -See Mr. Timothy Holmes’s <cite>System of -Surgery</cite>, 3rd edit. vol. iii. p. 746.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8_8" href="#FNanchor_8_8" class="label">8</a> -A Lecture delivered before the (London) -Sunday Lecture Society, January 18, 1885.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9_9" href="#FNanchor_9_9" class="label">9</a> -A second edition of Professor Cooley’s -<cite>Blackstone</cite> was published in Chicago last year.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10_10" href="#FNanchor_10_10" class="label">10</a> -Blackstone does not seem to have read -either Burlamaqui or Montesquieu in French. -He invariably uses the words of Nugent’s translations, -which had then been recently published.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_11_11" href="#FNanchor_11_11" class="label">11</a> -This is Fox’s comment on the passage:—“How -vain, then, how idle, how presumptuous -is the opinion that laws can do everything! -and how weak and pernicious the maxim -founded upon it, that measures, not men, are -to be attended to!”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_12_12" href="#FNanchor_12_12" class="label">12</a> -He is referring, however, to persecution on -the Continent and by the Pope.</p></div></div> - -<div class="transnote"> -<h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3> - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. All other -spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.</p> -</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 53772-h.htm or 53772-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/7/7/53772/ - -Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Les Galloway 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. 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