THE CONTEMPORARY REVIEW

VOLUME XLIII. JANUARY-JUNE, 1883

ISBISTER AND COMPANY

LIMITED

56, LUDGATE HILL, LONDON

1883

 Ballantyne Press

 BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. , EDINBURGH CHANDOS STREET, LONDON

CONTENTS OF VOLUME XLIII. 

 JANUARY, 1883. 

 PAGE

 The Americans. By Herbert Spencer 1

 University Elections. By Edward A. Freeman, D. C. L. 16

 Hamlet: A New Reading. By Franklin Leifchild 31

 Panislamism and the Caliphate 57

 The Bollandists. By the Rev. G. T. Stokes 69

 England, France, and Madagascar. By the Rev. James Sibree 85

 The Religious Future of the World. I. By W. S. Lilly 100

 Syrian Colonization. By the Rev. W. Wright, D. D 122

 The Conservative Dilemma. By Henry Dunckley 141

 FEBRUARY, 1883. 

 Contemporary Life and Thought in France. By Gabriel Monod 157

 Gambetta. By A German 179

 The Art of Rossetti. By Harry Quilter 190

 The Religious Future of the World. II. By W. S. Lilly 204

 The "Silver Streak" and the Channel Tunnel. By Professor Boyd Dawkins 240

 The Prospect of Reform. By Arthur Arnold, M. P. 250

 Ancient International Law. By Professor Brougham Leech 260

 A Russian Prison. By Henry Lansdell, D. D. 275

 Canonical Obedience. By the Rev. Edwin Hatch 289

 Democratic Toryism. By Arthur B. Forwood 294

 MARCH, 1883. 

 County Government. By the Rt. Hon. Sir R. A. Cross, G. C. B. , M. P. 305

 Léon Gambetta: A Positivist Discourse. By Frederic Harrison 311

 Discharged Prisoners: How to Aid Them. By C. E. Howard Vincent, Director of Criminal Investigations 325

 Miss Burney's Own Story. By Mary Elizabeth Christie 332

 The Highland Crofters. By John Rae 357

 Local Self-Government in India: The New Departure. By Sir Richard Temple, Bart. , G. C. S. I. 373

 Siena. By Samuel James Capper 383

 The Limits of Science. By the Rev. George Edmundson 404

 Land Tenure and Taxation in Egypt. By Henry C. Kay 411

 The Enchanted Lake: An Episode from the Mahábhárata. By Edwin Arnold, C. S. I. 428

 The Municipal Organization of Paris. By Yves Guyot, Member of the Municipal Council of Paris 439

 APRIL, 1883. 

 PAGE

 The English Military Power, and the Egyptian Campaign of 1882. By A German Field-Officer 457

 M. Gambetta: Positivism and Christianity. By R. W. Dale, M. A. 476

 The Anti-Vivisectionist Agitation: 1. By Dr. E. De Cyon 498 2. By R. H. Hutton 510

 The Gospel According to Rembrandt. By Richard Heath 517

 Conseils de Prud'hommes. By W. H. S. Aubrey 538

 The Manchester Ship Canal. By Major-General Hamley 549

 The Progress of Socialism. By Emile de Laveleye 561

 Irish Murder-Societies. By Richard Pigott 583

 Contemporary Life and Thought: Italian Politics. By Professor Villari 592

 MAY, 1883. 

 Mrs. Carlyle. By Mrs. Oliphant 609

 The Business of the House o£ Commons. By the Right Ho. W. E. Baxter, M. P. 629

 The Oxford Movement of 1833. By William Palmer 636

 Radiation. By Professor Tyndall 660

 Cairo: The Old in the New. I. By Dr. Georg Ebers 674

 Responsibilities of Unbelief. By Vernon Lee 685

 Fiji. By the Hon Sir Arthur H. Gordon, G. C. M. G. 711

 John Richard Green. By the Rev. H. R. Haweis, M A. 732

 Fenianism. By F. H. O'Donnell, M. P. 747

 JUNE, 1883. 

 The Congo Neutralized. By Emile de Laveleye 767

 Agnostic Morality. By Frances Power Cobbe 783

 Native Indian Judges: Mr. Ilbert's Bill. By the Right Hon. Sir Arthur Hobhouse, K. C. S. I. 795

 The Philosophy of the Beautiful. By Professor John Stuart Blackie 812

 Nature and Thought. By G. J. Romanes, F. R. S. 831

 Cairo: The Old in the New. II. By Dr. Georg Ebers 842

 De Mortuis. By C. F. Gordon Cumming 858

 Wanted, an Elisha. By H. D. Traill, D. C. L. 870

 Two Aspects of Shakspeare's Art. By T. Hall Came 883

 Insanity, Suicide and Civilization. By M. G. Mulhall 901

 The New Egyptian Constitution. By Sheldon Amos 909

THE AMERICANS:

A CONVERSATION AND A SPEECH, WITH AN ADDITION. 

BY HERBERT SPENCER. 

I. --A CONVERSATION: _October 20, 1882_. 

 [The state of Mr. Spencer's health unfortunately not permitting him to give in the form of articles the results of his observations on American society, it is thought useful to reproduce, under his own revision and with some additional remarks, what he has said on the subject; especially as the accounts of it which have appeared in this country are imperfect: reports of the conversation having been abridged, and the speech being known only by telegraphic summary. 

 The earlier paragraphs of the conversation, which refer to Mr. Spencer's persistent exclusion of reporters and his objections to the interviewing system, are omitted, as not here concerning the reader. There was no eventual yielding, as has been supposed. It was not to a newspaper-reporter that the opinions which follow were expressed, but to an intimate American friend: the primary purpose being to correct the many misstatements to which the excluded interviewers had given currency; and the occasion being taken for giving utterance to impressions of American affairs. --ED. ]

Has what you have seen answered your expectations?

It has far exceeded them. Such books about America as I had looked intohad given me no adequate idea of the immense developments of materialcivilization which I have everywhere found. The extent, wealth, andmagnificence of your cities, and especially the splendour of New York, have altogether astonished me. Though I have not visited the wonder ofthe West, Chicago, yet some of your minor modern places, such asCleveland, have sufficiently amazed me by the results of onegeneration's activity. Occasionally, when I have been in places of someten thousand inhabitants where the telephone is in general use, I havefelt somewhat ashamed of our own unenterprising towns, many of which, offifty thousand inhabitants and more, make no use of it. 

I suppose you recognize in these results the great benefits of freeinstitutions?

Ah! Now comes one of the inconveniences of interviewing. I have been inthe country less than two months, have seen but a relatively small partof it, and but comparatively few people, and yet you wish from me adefinite opinion on a difficult question. 

Perhaps you will answer, subject to the qualification that you are butgiving your first impressions?

Well, with that understanding, I may reply that though the freeinstitutions have been partly the cause, I think they have not been thechief cause. In the first place, the American people have come intopossession of an unparalleled fortune--the mineral wealth and the vasttracts of virgin soil producing abundantly with small cost of culture. Manifestly, that alone goes a long way towards producing this enormousprosperity. Then they have profited by inheriting all the arts, appliances, and methods, developed by older societies, while leavingbehind the obstructions existing in them. They have been able to pickand choose from the products of all past experience, appropriating thegood and rejecting the bad. Then, besides these favours of fortune, there are factors proper to themselves. I perceive in American facesgenerally a great amount of determination--a kind of "do or die"expression; and this trait of character, joined with a power of workexceeding that of any other people, of course produces an unparalleledrapidity of progress. Once more, there is the inventiveness which, stimulated by the need for economizing labour, has been so wiselyfostered. Among us in England, there are many foolish people who, whilethinking that a man who toils with his hands has an equitable claim tothe product, and if he has special skill may rightly have the advantageof it, also hold that if a man toils with his brain, perhaps for years, and, uniting genius with perseverance, evolves some valuable invention, the public may rightly claim the benefit. The Americans have been morefar-seeing. The enormous museum of patents which I saw at Washington issignificant of the attention paid to inventors' claims; and the nationprofits immensely from having in this direction (though not in allothers) recognized property in mental products. Beyond question, inrespect of mechanical appliances the Americans are ahead of all nations. If along with your material progress there went equal progress of ahigher kind, there would remain nothing to be wished. 

That is an ambiguous qualification. What do you mean by it?

You will understand me when I tell you what I was thinking the otherday. After pondering over what I have seen of your vast manufacturingand trading establishments, the rush of traffic in your street-cars andelevated railways, your gigantic hotels and Fifth Avenue palaces, I wassuddenly reminded of the Italian Republics of the Middle Ages; andrecalled the fact that while there was growing up in them greatcommercial activity, a development of the arts which made them the envyof Europe, and a building of princely mansions which continue to be theadmiration of travellers, their people were gradually losing theirfreedom. 

Do you mean this as a suggestion that we are doing the like?

It seems to me that you are. You retain the forms of freedom; but, sofar as I can gather, there has been a considerable loss of thesubstance. It is true that those who rule you do not do it by means ofretainers armed with swords; but they do it through regiments of menarmed with voting papers, who obey the word of command as loyally as didthe dependants of the old feudal nobles, and who thus enable theirleaders to override the general will, and make the community submit totheir exactions as effectually as their prototypes of old. It isdoubtless true that each of your citizens votes for the candidate hechooses for this or that office, from President downwards; but his handis guided by an agency behind which leaves him scarcely any choice. "Useyour political power as we tell you, or else throw it away, " is thealternative offered to the citizen. The political machinery as it is nowworked, has little resemblance to that contemplated at the outset ofyour political life. Manifestly, those who framed your Constitutionnever dreamed that twenty thousand citizens would go to the poll led bya "boss. " America exemplifies at the other end of the social scale, achange analogous to that which has taken place under sundry despotisms. You know that in Japan, before the recent Revolution, the divine ruler, the Mikado, nominally supreme, was practically a puppet in the hands ofhis chief minister, the Shogun. Here it seems to me that "the sovereignpeople" is fast becoming a puppet which moves and speaks as wire-pullersdetermine. 

Then you think that Republican institutions are a failure?

By no means: I imply no such conclusion. Thirty years ago, when oftendiscussing politics with an English friend, and defending Republicaninstitutions, as I always have done and do still, and when he urgedagainst me the ill-working of such institutions over here, I habituallyreplied that the Americans got their form of government by a happyaccident, not by normal progress, and that they would have to go backbefore they could go forward. What has since happened seems to me tohave justified that view; and what I see now, confirms me in it. Americais showing, on a larger scale than ever before, that "paperConstitutions" will not work as they are intended to work. The truth, first recognized by Mackintosh, that Constitutions are not made butgrow, which is part of the larger truth that societies, throughout theirwhole organizations, are not made but grow, at once, when accepted, disposes of the notion that you can work as you hope anyartificially-devised system of government. It becomes an inference thatif your political structure has been manufactured and not grown, itwill forthwith begin to grow into something different from thatintended--something in harmony with the natures of the citizens, and theconditions under which the society exists. And it evidently has been sowith you. Within the forms of your Constitution there has grown up thisorganization of professional politicians altogether uncontemplated atthe outset, which has become in large measure the ruling power. 

But will not education and the diffusion of political knowledge fit menfor free institutions?

No. It is essentially a question of character, and only in a secondarydegree a question of knowledge. But for the universal delusion abouteducation as a panacea for political evils, this would have been madesufficiently clear by the evidence daily disclosed in your papers. Arenot the men who officer and control your Federal, your State, and yourMunicipal organizations--who manipulate your caucuses and conventions, and run your partisan campaigns--all educated men? And has theireducation prevented them from engaging in, or permitting, or condoning, the briberies, lobbyings, and other corrupt methods which vitiate theactions of your administrations? Perhaps party newspapers exaggeratethese things; but what am I to make of the testimony of your civilservice reformers--men of all parties? If I understand the matteraright, they are attacking, as vicious and dangerous, a system which hasgrown up under the natural spontaneous working of your freeinstitutions--are exposing vices which education has proved powerless toprevent?

Of course, ambitious and unscrupulous men will secure the offices, andeducation will aid them in their selfish purposes. But would not thosepurposes be thwarted, and better Government secured, by raising thestandard of knowledge among the people at large?

Very little. The current theory is that if the young are taught what isright, and the reasons why it is right, they will do what is right whenthey grow up. But considering what religious teachers have been doingthese two thousand years, it seems to me that all history is against theconclusion, as much as is the conduct of these well-educated citizens Ihave referred to; and I do not see why you expect better results amongthe masses. Personal interests will sway the men in the ranks, as theysway the men above them; and the education which fails to make the lastconsult public good rather than private good, will fail to make thefirst do it. The benefits of political purity are so general and remote, and the profit to each individual is so inconspicuous, that the commoncitizen, educate him as you like, will habitually occupy himself withhis personal affairs, and hold it not worth his while to fight againsteach abuse as soon as it appears. Not lack of information, but lack ofcertain moral sentiment, is the root of the evil. 

You mean that people have not a sufficient sense of public duty?

Well, that is one way of putting it; but there is a more specific way. Probably it will surprise you if I say the American has not, I think, asufficiently quick sense of his own claims, and, at the same time, as anecessary consequence, not a sufficiently quick sense of the claims ofothers--for the two traits are organically related. I observe that theytolerate various small interferences and dictations which Englishmen areprone to resist. I am told that the English are remarked on for theirtendency to grumble in such cases; and I have no doubt it is true. 

Do you think it worth while for people to make themselves disagreeableby resenting every trifling aggression? We Americans think it involvestoo much loss of time and temper, and doesn't pay. 

Exactly; that is what I mean by character. It is this easy-goingreadiness to permit small trespasses, because it would be troublesome orprofitless or unpopular to oppose them, which leads to the habit ofacquiescence in wrong, and the decay of free institutions. Freeinstitutions can be maintained only by citizens, each of whom is instantto oppose every illegitimate act, every assumption of supremacy, everyofficial excess of power, however trivial it may seem. As Hamlet says, there is such a thing as "greatly to find quarrel in a straw, " when thestraw implies a principle. If, as you say of the American, he pauses toconsider whether he can afford the time and trouble--whether it willpay, corruption is sure to creep in. All these lapses from higher tolower forms begin in trifling ways, and it is only by incessantwatchfulness that they can be prevented. As one of your early statesmensaid--"The price of liberty is eternal vigilance. " But it is far lessagainst foreign aggressions upon national liberty that this vigilance isrequired, than against the insidious growth of domestic interferenceswith personal liberty. In some private administrations which I have beenconcerned with, I have often insisted that instead of assuming, aspeople usually do, that things are going right until it is proved thatthey are going wrong, the proper course is to assume that they are goingwrong until it is proved that they are going right. You will findcontinually that private corporations, such as joint-stock bankingcompanies, come to grief from not acting on this principle; and whatholds of these small and simple private administrations holds still moreof the great and complex public administrations. People are taught, andI suppose believe, that the "heart of man is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked;" and yet, strangely enough, believing this, theyplace implicit trust in those they appoint to this or that function. Ido not think so ill of human nature; but, on the other hand, I do notthink so well of human nature as to believe it will go straight withoutbeing watched. 

You hinted that while Americans do not assert their own individualitiessufficiently in small matters, they, reciprocally, do not sufficientlyrespect the individualities of others. 

Did I? Here, then, comes another of the inconveniences of interviewing. I should have kept this opinion to myself if you had asked me noquestions; and now I must either say what I do not think, which Icannot, or I must refuse to answer, which, perhaps, will be taken tomean more than I intend, or I must specify, at the risk of givingoffence. As the least evil, I suppose I must do the last. The trait Irefer to comes out in various ways, small and great. It is shown by thedisrespectful manner in which individuals are dealt with in yourjournals--the placarding of public men in sensational headings, thedragging of private people and their affairs into print. There seems tobe a notion that the public have a right to intrude on private life asfar as they like; and this I take to be a kind of moral trespassing. Then, in a larger way, the trait is seen in this damaging of privateproperty by your elevated railways without making compensation; and itis again seen in the doings of railway autocrats, not only whenoverriding the rights of shareholders, but in dominating over courts ofjustice and State governments. The fact is that free institutions can beproperly worked only by men, each of whom is jealous of his own rights, and also sympathetically jealous of the rights of others--who willneither himself aggress on his neighbours in small things or great, nortolerate aggression on them by others. The Republican form of governmentis the highest form of government; but because of this it requires thehighest type of human nature--a type nowhere at present existing. Wehave not grown up to it; nor have you. 

But we thought, Mr. Spencer, you were in favour of free government inthe sense of relaxed restraints, and letting men and things very muchalone, or what is called _laissez faire_?

That is a persistent misunderstanding of my opponents. Everywhere, alongwith the reprobation of Government intrusion into various spheres whereprivate activities should be left to themselves, I have contended thatin its special sphere, the maintenance of equitable relations amongcitizens, governmental action should be extended and elaborated. 

To return to your various criticisms, must I then understand that youthink unfavourably of our future?

No one can form anything more than vague and general conclusionsrespecting your future. The factors are too numerous, too vast, too farbeyond measure in their quantities and intensities. The world has neverbefore seen social phenomena at all comparable with those presented inthe United States. A society spreading over enormous tracts, while stillpreserving its political continuity, is a new thing. This progressiveincorporation of vast bodies of immigrants of various bloods, has neveroccurred on such a scale before. Large empires, composed of differentpeoples, have, in previous cases, been formed by conquest andannexation. Then your immense _plexus_ of railways and telegraphs tendsto consolidate this vast aggregate of States in a way that no suchaggregate has ever before been consolidated. And there are many minorco-operating causes, unlike those hitherto known. No one can say how itis all going to work out. That there will come hereafter troubles ofvarious kinds, and very grave ones, seems highly probable; but allnations have had, and will have, their troubles. Already you havetriumphed over one great trouble, and may reasonably hope to triumphover others. It may, I think, be concluded that, both because of itssize and the heterogeneity of its components, the American nation willbe a long time in evolving its ultimate form, but that its ultimate formwill be high. One great result is, I think, tolerably clear. Frombiological truths it is to be inferred that the eventual mixture of theallied varieties of the Aryan race forming the population, will producea finer type of man than has hitherto existed; and a type of man moreplastic, more adaptable, more capable of undergoing the modificationsneedful for complete social life. I think that whatever difficultiesthey may have to surmount, and whatever tribulations they may have topass through, the Americans may reasonably look forward to a time whenthey will have produced a civilization grander than any the world hasknown. 

II. --A SPEECH:

_Delivered on the occasion of a Complimentary Dinner in New York, onNovember 9, 1882. _

Mr. President and Gentlemen:--Along with your kindness there comes to mea great unkindness from Fate; for, now that, above all times in my life, I need full command of what powers of speech I possess, disturbed healthso threatens to interfere with them that I fear I shall veryinadequately express myself. Any failure in my response you must pleaseascribe, in part at least, to a greatly disordered nervous system. Regarding you as representing Americans at large, I feel that theoccasion is one on which arrears of thanks are due. I ought to beginwith the time, some two-and-twenty years ago, when my highly valuedfriend Professor Youmans, making efforts to diffuse my books here, interested on their behalf the Messrs. Appleton, who have ever treatedme so honourably and so handsomely; and I ought to detail from that timeonward the various marks and acts of sympathy by which I have beenencouraged in a struggle which was for many years disheartening. But, intimating thus briefly my general indebtedness to my numerous friends, most of them unknown, on this side of the Atlantic, I must name moreespecially the many attentions and proffered hospitalities met withduring my late tour, as well as, lastly and chiefly, this markedexpression of the sympathies and good wishes which many of you havetravelled so far to give, at great cost of that time which is soprecious to the American. I believe I may truly say, that the betterhealth which you have so cordially wished me, will be in a measurefurthered by the wish; since all pleasurable emotion is conducive tohealth, and, as you will fully believe, the remembrance of this eventwill ever continue to be a source of pleasurable emotion, exceeded byfew, if any, of my remembrances. 

And now that I have thanked you, sincerely though too briefly, I amgoing to find fault with you. Already, in some remarks drawn from merespecting American affairs and American character, I have passedcriticisms, which have been accepted far more good-humouredly than Icould have reasonably expected; and it seems strange that I should nowpropose again to transgress. However, the fault I have to comment uponis one which most will scarcely regard as a fault. It seems to me thatin one respect Americans have diverged too widely from savages, I do notmean to say that they are in general unduly civilized. Throughout largeparts of the population, even in long-settled regions, there is noexcess of those virtues needed for the maintenance of social harmony. Especially out in the West, men's dealings do not yet betray too much ofthe "sweetness and light" which we are told distinguish the cultured manfrom the barbarian. Nevertheless, there is a sense in which my assertionis true. You know that the primitive man lacks power of application. Spurred by hunger, by danger, by revenge, he can exert himselfenergetically for a time; but his energy is spasmodic. Monotonous dailytoil is impossible to him. It is otherwise with the more developed man. The stern discipline of social life has gradually increased the aptitudefor persistent industry; until, among us, and still more among you, workhas become with many a passion. This contrast of nature has anotheraspect. The savage thinks only of present satisfactions, and leavesfuture satisfactions uncared for. Contrariwise, the American, eagerlypursuing a future good, almost ignores what good the passing day offershim; and when the future good is gained, he neglects that while strivingfor some still remoter good. 

What I have seen and heard during my stay among you has forced on me thebelief that this slow change from habitual inertness to persistentactivity has reached an extreme from which there must begin acounterchange--a reaction. Everywhere I have been struck with thenumber of faces which told in strong lines of the burdens that had to beborne. I have been struck, too, with the large proportion of gray-hairedmen; and inquiries have brought out the fact, that with you the haircommonly begins to turn some ten years earlier than with us. Moreover, in every circle I have met men who had themselves suffered from nervouscollapse due to stress of business, or named friends who had eitherkilled themselves by overwork, or had been permanently incapacitated, orhad wasted long periods in endeavours to recover health. I do but echothe opinion of all the observant persons I have spoken to, that immenseinjury is being done by this high-pressure life--the physique is beingundermined. That subtle thinker and poet whom you have lately had tomourn, Emerson, says, in his essay on the Gentleman, that the firstrequisite is that he shall be a good animal. The requisite is a generalone--it extends to the man, to the father, to the citizen. We hear agreat deal about "the vile body;" and many are encouraged by the phraseto transgress the laws of health. But Nature quietly suppresses thosewho treat thus disrespectfully one of her highest products, and leavesthe world to be peopled by the descendants of those who are not sofoolish. 

Beyond these immediate mischiefs there are remoter mischiefs. Exclusivedevotion to work has the result that amusements cease to please; and, when relaxation becomes imperative, life becomes dreary from lack of itssole interest--the interest in business. The remark current in Englandthat, when the American travels, his aim is to do the greatest amount ofsight-seeing in the shortest time, I find current here also: it isrecognized that the satisfaction of getting on devours nearly all othersatisfactions. When recently at Niagara, which gave us a whole week'spleasure, I learned from the landlord of the hotel that most Americanscome one day and go away the next. Old Froissart, who said of theEnglish of his day that "they take their pleasures sadly after theirfashion, " would doubtless, if he lived now, say of the Americans thatthey take their pleasures hurriedly after their fashion. In largemeasure with us, and still more with you, there is not that abandonmentto the moment which is requisite for full enjoyment; and thisabandonment is prevented by the ever-present sense of multitudinousresponsibilities. So that, beyond the serious physical mischief causedby overwork, there is the further mischief that it destroys what valuethere would otherwise be in the leisure part of life. 

Nor do the evils end here. There is the injury to posterity. Damagedconstitutions reappear in children, and entail on them far more of illthan great fortunes yield them of good. When life has been dulyrationalized by science, it will be seen that among a man's duties, careof the body is imperative; not only out of regard for personal welfare, but also out of regard for descendants. His constitution will beconsidered as an entailed estate, which he ought to pass on uninjured, if not improved, to those who follow; and it will be held that millionsbequeathed by him will not compensate for feeble health and decreasedability to enjoy life. Once more, there is the injury tofellow-citizens, taking the shape of undue disregard of competitors. Ihear that a great trader among you deliberately endeavoured to crush outevery one whose business competed with his own; and manifestly the manwho, making himself a slave to accumulation, absorbs an inordinate shareof the trade or profession he is engaged in, makes life harder for allothers engaged in it, and excludes from it many who might otherwise gaincompetencies. Thus, besides the egoistic motive, there are twoaltruistic motives which should deter from this excess in work. 

The truth is, there needs a revised ideal of life. Look back through thepast, or look abroad through the present, and we find that the ideal oflife is variable, and depends on social conditions. Every one knows thatto be a successful warrior was the highest aim among all ancient peoplesof note, as it is still among many barbarous peoples. When we rememberthat in the Norseman's heaven the time was to be passed in dailybattles, with magical healing of wounds, we see how deeply rooted maybecome the conception that fighting is man's proper business, and thatindustry is fit only for slaves and people of low degree. That is tosay, when the chronic struggles of races necessitate perpetual wars, there is evolved an ideal of life adapted to the requirements. We havechanged all that in modern civilized societies; especially in England, and still more in America. With the decline of militant activity, andthe growth of industrial activity, the occupations once disgraceful havebecome honourable. The duty to work has taken the place of the duty tofight; and in the one case, as in the other, the ideal of life hasbecome so well established that scarcely any dream of questioning it. Practically, business has been substituted for war as the purpose ofexistence. 

Is this modern ideal to survive throughout the future? I think not. While all other things undergo continuous change, it is impossible thatideals should remain fixed. The ancient ideal was appropriate to theages of conquest by man over man, and spread of the strongest races. Themodern ideal is appropriate to ages in which conquest of the earth andsubjection of the powers of Nature to human use, is the predominantneed. But hereafter, when both these ends have in the main beenachieved, the ideal formed will probably differ considerably from thepresent one. May we not foresee the nature of the difference? I think wemay. Some twenty years ago, a good friend of mine, and a good friend ofyours too, though you never saw him, John Stuart Mill, delivered at St. Andrews an inaugural address on the occasion of his appointment to theLord Rectorship. It contained much to be admired, as did all he wrote. There ran through it, however, the tacit assumption that life is forlearning and working. I felt at the time that I should have liked totake up the opposite thesis. I should have liked to contend that life isnot for learning, nor is life for working, but learning and working arefor life. The primary use of knowledge is for such guidance of conductunder all circumstances as shall make living complete. All other uses ofknowledge are secondary. It scarcely needs saying that the primary useof work is that of supplying the materials and aids to livingcompletely; and that any other uses of work are secondary. But in men'sconceptions the secondary has in great measure usurped the place of theprimary. The apostle of culture as it is commonly conceived, Mr. MatthewArnold, makes little or no reference to the fact that the first use ofknowledge is the right ordering of all actions; and Mr. Carlyle, who isa good exponent of current ideas about work, insists on its virtues forquite other reasons than that it achieves sustentation. We may traceeverywhere in human affairs a tendency to transform the means into theend. All see that the miser does this when, making the accumulation ofmoney his sole satisfaction, he forgets that money is of value only topurchase satisfactions. But it is less commonly seen that the like istrue of the work by which the money is accumulated--that industry too, bodily or mental, is but a means; and that it is as irrational to pursueit to the exclusion of that complete living it subserves, as it is forthe miser to accumulate money and make no use of it. Hereafter, whenthis age of active material progress has yielded mankind its benefits, there will, I think, come a better adjustment of labour and enjoyment. Among reasons for thinking this, there is the reason that the process ofevolution throughout the organic world at large, brings an increasingsurplus of energies that are not absorbed in fulfilling material needs, and points to a still larger surplus for the humanity of the future. Andthere are other reasons, which I must pass over. In brief, I may saythat we have had somewhat too much of "the gospel of work. " It is timeto preach the gospel of relaxation. 

This is a very unconventional after-dinner speech. Especially it will bethought strange that in returning thanks I should deliver something verymuch like a homily. But I have thought I could not better convey mythanks than by the expression of a sympathy which issues in a fear. If, as I gather, this intemperance in work affects more especially theAnglo-American part of the population--if there results an underminingof the physique, not only in adults, but also in the young, who, as Ilearn from your daily journals, are also being injured by overwork--ifthe ultimate consequence should be a dwindling away of those among youwho are the inheritors of free institutions and best adapted to them;then there will come a further difficulty in the working out of thatgreat future which lies before the American nation. To my anxiety onthis account you must please ascribe the unusual character of myremarks. 

And now I must bid you farewell. When I sail by the _Germanic_ onSaturday, I shall bear with me pleasant remembrances of my intercoursewith many Americans, joined with regrets that my state of health hasprevented me from seeing a larger number. 

 * * * * *

[A few words may fitly be added respecting the causes of thisover-activity in American life--causes which may be identified as havingin recent times partially operated among ourselves, and as havingwrought kindred, though less marked, effects. It is the more worth whileto trace the genesis of this undue absorption of the energies in work, since it well serves to illustrate the general truth which should beever present to all legislators and politicians, that the indirect andunforeseen results of any cause affecting a society are frequently, ifnot habitually, greater and more important than the direct and foreseenresults. 

This high pressure under which Americans exist, and which is mostintense in places like Chicago, where the prosperity and rate of growthare greatest, is seen by many intelligent Americans themselves to be anindirect result of their free institutions and the absence of thoseclass-distinctions and restraints existing in older communities. Asociety in which the man who dies a millionaire is so often one whocommenced life in poverty, and in which (to paraphrase a French sayingconcerning the soldier) every news-boy carries a president's seal in hisbag, is, by consequence, a society in which all are subject to a stressof competition for wealth and honour, greater than can exist in asociety whose members are nearly all prevented from rising out of theranks in which they were born, and have but remote possibilities ofacquiring fortunes. In those European societies which have in greatmeasure preserved their old types of structure (as in our own society upto the time when the great development of industrialism began to openever-multiplying careers for the producing and distributing classes)there is so little chance of overcoming the obstacles to any great risein position or possessions, that nearly all have to be content withtheir places: entertaining little or no thought of bettering themselves. A manifest concomitant is that, fulfilling, with such efficiency as amoderate competition requires, the daily tasks of their respectivesituations, the majority become habituated to making the best of suchpleasures as their lot affords, during whatever leisure they get. Butit is otherwise where an immense growth of trade multiplies greatly thechances of success to the enterprising; and still more is it otherwisewhere class-restrictions are partially removed or wholly absent. Notonly are more energy and thought put into the time daily occupied inwork, but the leisure comes to be trenched upon, either literally byabridgment, or else by anxieties concerning business. Clearly, thelarger the number who, under such conditions, acquire property, orachieve higher positions, or both, the sharper is the spur to the rest. A raised standard of activity establishes itself and goes on rising. Public applause given to the successful, becoming in communities thuscircumstanced the most familiar kind of public applause, increasescontinually the stimulus to action. The struggle grows more and morestrenuous, and there comes an increasing dread of failure--a dread ofbeing "left, " as the Americans say: a significant word, since it issuggestive of a race in which the harder any one runs, the harder othershave to run to keep up with him--a word suggestive of that breathlesshaste with which each passes from a success gained to the pursuit of afurther success. And on contrasting the English of to-day with theEnglish of a century ago, we may see how, in a considerable measure, thelike causes have entailed here kindred results. 

Even those who are not directly spurred on by this intensified strugglefor wealth and honour, are indirectly spurred on by it. For one of itseffects is to raise the standard of living, and eventually to increasethe average rate of expenditure for all. Partly for personal enjoyment, but much more for the display which brings admiration, those who acquirefortunes distinguish themselves by luxurious habits. The more numerousthey become, the keener becomes the competition for that kind of publicattention given to those who make themselves conspicuous by greatexpenditure. The competition spreads downwards step by step; until, tobe "respectable, " those having relatively small means feel obliged tospend more on houses, furniture, dress, and food; and are obliged towork the harder to get the requisite larger income. This process ofcausation is manifest enough among ourselves; and it is still moremanifest in America, where the extravagance in style of living isgreater than here. 

Thus, though it seems beyond doubt that the removal of all political andsocial barriers, and the giving to each man an unimpeded career, must bepurely beneficial; yet there is (at first) a considerable set-off fromthe benefits. Among those who in older communities have by laboriouslives gained distinction, some may be heard privately to confess that"the game is not worth the candle;" and when they hear of others whowish to tread in their steps, shake their heads and say--"If they onlyknew!" Without accepting in full so pessimistic an estimate of success, we must still say that very generally the cost of the candle deductslargely from the gain of the game. That which in these exceptional casesholds among ourselves, holds more generally in America. An intensifiedlife, which may be summed up as--great labour, great profit, greatexpenditure--has for its concomitant a wear and tear which considerablydiminishes in one direction the good gained in another. Added together, the daily strain through many hours and the anxieties occupying manyother hours--the occupation of consciousness by feelings that are eitherindifferent or painful, leaving relatively little time for occupation ofit by pleasurable feelings--tend to lower its level more than its levelis raised by the gratifications of achievement and the accompanyingbenefits. So that it may, and in many cases does, result that diminishedhappiness goes along with increased prosperity. Unquestionably, as longas order is fairly maintained, that absence of political and socialrestraints which gives free scope to the struggles for profit andhonour, conduces greatly to material advance of the society--developsthe industrial arts, extends and improves the business organizations, augments the wealth; but that it raises the value of individual life, asmeasured by the average state of its feeling, by no means follows. Thatit will do so eventually, is certain; but that it does so now seems, tosay the least, very doubtful. 

The truth is that a society and its members act and react in such wisethat while, on the one hand, the nature of the society is determined bythe natures of its members; on the other hand, the activities of itsmembers (and presently their natures) are redetermined by the needs ofthe society, as these alter: change in either entails change in theother. It is an obvious implication that, to a great extent, the life ofa society so sways the wills of its members as to turn them to its ends. That which is manifest during the militant stage, when the socialaggregate coerces its units into co-operation for defence, andsacrifices many of their lives for its corporate preservation, holdsunder another form during the industrial stage, as we at present knowit. Though the co-operation of citizens is now voluntary instead ofcompulsory; yet the social forces impel them to achieve social endswhile apparently achieving only their own ends. The man who, carryingout an invention, thinks only of private welfare to be thereby secured, is in far larger measure working for public welfare: instance thecontrast between the fortune made by Watt and the wealth which thesteam-engine has given to mankind. He who utilizes a new material, improves a method of production, or introduces a better way of carryingon business, and does this for the purpose of distancing competitors, gains for himself little compared with that which he gains for thecommunity by facilitating the lives of all. Either unknowingly or inspite of themselves, Nature leads men by purely personal motives tofulfil her ends: Nature being one of our expressions for the UltimateCause of things, and the end, remote when not proximate, being thehighest form of human life. 

Hence no argument, however cogent, can be expected to produce mucheffect: only here and there one may be influenced. As in an activelymilitant stage of society it is impossible to make many believe thatthere is any glory preferable to that of killing enemies; so, whererapid material growth is going on, and affords unlimited scope for theenergies of all, little can be done by insisting that life has higheruses than work and accumulation. While among the most powerful offeelings continue to be the desire for public applause and dread ofpublic censure--while the anxiety to achieve distinction, now byconquering enemies, now by beating competitors, continuespredominant--while the fear of public reprobation affects men more thanthe fear of divine vengeance (as witness the long survival of duellingin Christian societies); this excess of work which ambition prompts, seems likely to continue with but small qualification. The eagerness forthe honour accorded to success, first in war and then in commerce, hasbeen indispensable as a means to peopling the Earth with the highertypes of man, and the subjugation of its surface and its forces to humanuse. Ambition may fitly come to bear a smaller ratio to other motives, when the working out of these needs is approaching completeness; andwhen also, by consequence, the scope for satisfying ambition isdiminishing. Those who draw the obvious corollaries from the doctrine ofEvolution--those who believe that the process of modification uponmodification which has brought life to its present height must raise itstill higher, will anticipate that "the last infirmity of noble minds"will in the distant future slowly decrease. As the sphere forachievement becomes smaller, the desire for applause will lose thatpredominance which it now has. A better ideal of life may simultaneouslycome to prevail. When there is fully recognized the truth that moralbeauty is higher than intellectual power--when the wish to be admired isin large measure replaced by the wish to be loved; that strife fordistinction which the present phase of civilization shows us will begreatly moderated. Along with other benefits may then come a rationalproportioning of work and relaxation; and the relative claims of to-dayand to-morrow may be properly balanced. --H. S. ]

UNIVERSITY ELECTIONS. 

The late election for the University of Cambridge had an ending whichmay well set many of us a-thinking. That Mr. Raikes should have beenchosen by an overwhelming majority rather than Mr. Stuart means a gooddeal more than a mere party victory and party defeat. Combined withseveral elections of late years at Oxford, it is enough to make us allturn over in our minds the question of University representation ingeneral. The facts taken altogether look as if those constituencies towhich we might naturally look for the return of members of more thanaverage personal eminence were committed, in the choice of theirrepresentatives, not only to one particular political party, but toabsolute indifference to every claim beyond membership of thatparticular party. It would be unreasonable to expect a conscientiousConservative to vote for a Liberal candidate; but one might expect anyparty, in choosing candidates for such constituencies as theUniversities of Oxford and Cambridge, to put forward its best men. Andwe cannot, after all, think so ill of the great Conservative party as tobelieve that the present representatives of Oxford and Cambridge are itsbest men. We ought indeed not to forget that, whatever Mr. Beresford-Hope has since shown himself, he was brought forward, partlyat least, as a man of scholarship and intellectual tastes, and that hereceived many Liberal votes in the belief that he was less widelyremoved from Liberal ideas than another Conservative candidate. Thiswould seem to have been the last trace of an old tradition, the lastfaint glimmering of the belief that the representative of an Universityshould have something about him specially appropriate to therepresentation of an University. In Oxford that tradition had, on theConservative side, given way earlier. Another tradition gave way withit, one which I at least did not regret, the tradition that anUniversity seat should be a seat for life. It sounded degrading when aproposer of Mr. Gladstone stooped to appeal to the doctrine, "ut semelelectus semper eligatur. " But be that rule wise or foolish, it was onthe Conservative side that it was broken down. It gave way to the rulethat Mr. Gladstone was always to be opposed, and that it did not matterwho could be got to oppose him. Again I cannot believe that theConservative ranks did not contain better men than the grotesquesuccession of nobodies by whom Mr. Gladstone was opposed. But in thecourse of those elections the rule was established at Oxford, and it nowseems to be adopted at Cambridge, that anybody will do to be anUniversity member, provided only he is an unflinching supporter of theparty which, as recent elections show, still keeps a large majority inboth Universities. 

Mr. Gladstone was very nearly the ideal University member. I say "verynearly, " because to my mind the absolutely ideal state of things wouldbe if the Universities could catch such men as Mr. Gladstone young, andcould bring them into Parliament as their own, before they had been laidhold of by any other constituency. The late jubilee of Mr. Gladstone'spolitical life ought to have been the jubilee of his election, not forNewark but for Oxford. The Universities should choose men who havealready shown themselves to be scholars and who bid fair one day to bestatesmen. I am not sure about the policy of bringing forward actualUniversity officials. There is sure to be a cry against them, and it isnot clear that they are the best choice in themselves. It may be as wellhowever to remember that the example was set, though in rather anamusing shape, by the Conservatives themselves. Dr. Marsham, late Wardenof Merton, who was brought forward thirty years ago in opposition to Mr. Gladstone, did not belong to exactly the same class of academicalofficials as Professor Stuart and Professor H. J. S. Smith; still, as anacademical official of some kind, he had something in common with them, as distinguished from either Mr. Gladstone or Mr. Raikes. At the lastelections both for Oxford and Cambridge, the Liberal candidate was anactual Professor. Mr. Stuart indeed is much more than a mere professor;he has shown his capacity for practical work of various kinds. But Icould not but look on the Oxford choice of 1878 as unlucky. Mr. H. J. S. Smith was brought forward purely on the ground of "distinction, "distinction, it would seem, so great that moral right and wrong went fornothing by its side. Just at that moment right and wrong wereemphatically weighing in the balance; it was the very crisis of the fateof South-Eastern Europe. But we were told that Mr. Smith's candidaturehad "no reference to the Eastern Question;" he was, we were told, supported by men who took opposite views on that matter. That is tosay, when the most distinct question of right and wrong that ever wasput before any people was at that moment placed before our eyes, we wereasked to put away all thought of moral right and moral duty in thepresence of the long string of letters after Mr. Smith's name. Better, Ishould have said, to choose, even for the University, a man who couldnot read or write, if he had been ready to strive heart and soul forjustice and freedom alongside of Mr. Gladstone and the Duke of Argyll. Yet no such hard choice was laid upon us. There was a man standing by, another bearer of the same great Teutonic name, not young indeed inyears, but who might have gone fresh to Parliament as the University'sown choice, one whom it would have been worth some effort to keep withinthe bounds of England and of Europe, one who to a list of "distinctions"at least as long as that of the candidate actually chosen, added thenoblest distinction of all, that of having been, through a life ofvaried experiences, the consistent and unflinching champion of moralrighteousness. I do not know that Mr. Goldwin Smith would have had agreater chance--perhaps he might have had even less chance--of electionthan Mr. H. J. S. Smith. But there would have been greater comfort inmanly defeat in open strife under such a leader than there could be in adefeat which it had been vainly hoped to escape by a compromise on thegreat moral question of the moment. The Oxford Liberals lost, and, Imust say, they deserved to lose. It is a great gain for an Universitycandidate to be "distinguished;" but one would think that it wouldcommonly be possible to find a "distinguished" candidate who is at once"distinguished" and something better as well. 

Still at Oxford in 1878 Mr. H. J. S. Smith was the accepted candidate ofthe Liberal party, and in that character he underwent a crushing defeat. It may be, or it may not be, that a candidate of more decided principleswould have gained more votes than the actual candidate gained; hecertainly would not have gained enough to turn the scale. Mr. Smith wasdefeated by a candidate who was utterly undistinguished; and who, instead of simply halting, like Mr. Smith, between right and wrong, wasdefinitely committed to the cause of wrong. Mr. Talbot became member forthe University on the same principle on which Mr. Gladstone's successiveopponents were brought forward, the principle that anybody will do, ifonly he be a Tory. Any stick is good enough to beat the Liberal dog. When Toryism showed itself in its darkest colours, when it meant therule of Lord Beaconsfield, and when the rule of Lord Beaconsfield meant, before all things, the strengthening of the power of evil inSouth-Eastern Europe, a constituency, in which the clerical vote is saidto be decisive, preferred, by an overwhelming majority, the candidatewho most distinctly represented the bondage of Christian nations underthe yoke of the misbeliever. It is quite possible that crowds voted atthe Oxford election, as at other elections, in support of LordBeaconsfield's ministry, in utter indifference or in utter ignorance asto what support of Lord Beaconsfield's ministry meant. The Conservativeparty was conventionally supposed to be the Church party; and so mencalling themselves Christians, calling themselves clergymen, rushed, with the cry of "Church" in their mouths, to do all that in them lay forthe sworn allies of Antichrist. 

A constituency which could return a supporter of Lord Beaconsfield in1878 is hopelessly Tory--hopelessly that is, till a new generation shallhave supplanted the existing one. It is Conservative, not in the senseof acting on any intelligible Conservative principle, but in the senseof supporting anything that calls itself Conservative, be its principleswhat they may. No measure could be less really Conservative, none couldmore be opposed to the feelings and traditions of a large part of theclergy, than the Public Worship Act. A large part of the clergy grumbledat it; some voted for the Liberals in 1880 on the strength of it; but itdid not arouse a discontent so strong or so general as seriously todeprive the so-called Conservative party of clerical support. It wasperhaps unreasonable to expect much change in the older class ofelectors, clerical or lay; but the results of the two elections, ofOxford in 1878 and of Cambridge in 1882, are disappointing in anotherway. The Universities, and therewith the University constituencies, havelargely increased within the last few years. The number of electors atOxford is far greater than it was in the days of Mr. Gladstone'selections; at Cambridge the increase must be greater still since anyearlier election at which a poll was taken. And it was certainly hopedthat the increase would have been altogether favourable to the Liberalside. Among the new electors there was a large lay element, a certainNonconformist element; even among the clergy a party was known to begrowing who had found the way to reconcile strict Churchmanship withLiberal politics, and whose Christianity was not of the kind which issatisfied to walk hand-in-hand with the Turk. In these different ways itwas only reasonable to expect that the result of an University electionwas now likely to be, if not the actual return of a Liberal member, yetat least a poll which should show that the Conservative majority waslargely diminished. Instead of this, both at Oxford in 1878 and atCambridge in 1882 the Conservative candidate comes in by a majoritywhich is simply overwhelming. It must however be remembered that itwould be misleading to compare the poll at either of these electionswith the polls at any of Mr. Gladstone's contests. The issue wasdifferent in the two cases. The elections of 1878 and 1880 were far moredistinctly trials between political parties than the several electionsin which Mr. Gladstone succeeded or the final one in which he failed. First of all, there is a vast difference between Mr. Gladstone and anyother candidate. This difference indeed cuts both ways. The foremost manin the land is at once the best loved and the best hated man in theland. Neither Mr. Smith nor Mr. Stuart nor any other candidate thatcould be thought of could call forth either the depth of enthusiasm inhis supporters or the depth of antagonism in his opponents which iscalled forth by every public appearance of Mr. Gladstone. No other manhas, in the same measure as he has, won the glory of being the bugbearof cultivated "society" and the object of the reverence and affection ofthinking men. But, apart from this, the issues were different. Mr. Smithand Mr. Stuart stood directly as Liberal candidates. Mr. Gladstone, atleast in his earlier elections, was still in party nomenclature countedamong Conservatives, and he received but little support from professedpolitical Liberals. The constituency was then confined to men who hadsigned the articles of the Established Church, and the election largelyturned on controversies within the Established Church. I venture tothink that the High Church party of that day was really a Liberal party, one that had far more in common with the political Liberals than withthe political Conservatives. But it is certain that neither the HighChurchmen nor the political Liberals would have acknowledged thekindred, and the great mass of Mr. Gladstone's supporters in 1847, in1852, and even later, would assuredly not have voted for any avowedlyLiberal candidate. In his later elections Mr. Gladstone received adistinct Liberal support; still he was also supported by men who wouldnot support a Liberal candidate now. As he came nearer and nearer to theLiberal camp, his majorities forsook him till he was at last rejectedfor Mr. Hardy. The two elections of the last four years have turned moredirectly, we may say that they have turned wholly, on ordinary politicalissues. Controversies within the Established Church have had littlebearing on them. So far as ecclesiastical questions have come in, thestrife has been between "Church"--that kind of Church which ispue-fellow to the Mosque--and something which is supposed not to be"Church. " These late elections have therefore been far better tests thanthe old ones of the strictly political feelings of the constituencies. Looked at in that light, they certainly do not prove that the Universityconstituencies are more Conservative now than they were then. They doprove that the Liberal growth, the Liberal reaction, or whatever we areto call it, in the University constituencies since that time has beenfar less strong than Liberals had hoped that it had been. They do provethat the Conservatism of those constituencies is still of a kind which, both for quantity and quality, has a very ugly look in Liberal eyes. 

Thus far we have been looking at Oxford and Cambridge only. But we mustnot forget that Oxford and Cambridge are not the only Universities inthe kingdom. The general results of University elections were set fortha few weeks back in an article in the _Spectator_. They are certainlynot comfortable as a whole. We of Oxford and Cambridge may perhaps drawa very poor satisfaction from the thought that we are at least not sobad as Dublin. But then we must feel in the like proportion ashamed whenwe see how we stand by the side of London. A better comparison thaneither is with the Universities of Scotland. From a Liberal point ofview, they are much better than Oxford and Cambridge, but still they arenot nearly so good as they ought to be. The Liberalism of theUniversities of Scotland lags a long way behind the Liberalism of theScottish people in general. One pair of Universities returns a Liberal, the other a Conservative, in neither case by majorities at all like theConservative majorities at Oxford and Cambridge. Speaking roughly, inthe Scottish Universities the two parties are nearly equally balanced, avery different state of things from what we see in the otherconstituencies of Scotland. If then in England and Ireland theUniversity constituencies are overwhelmingly Conservative, while inLiberal Scotland they are more Conservative than Liberal, it followsthat there is something amiss either about Liberal principles or aboutUniversity constituencies. And those who believe that Liberal principlesare the principles of right reason and that so-called Conservativeprinciples represent something other than right reason, will of coursetake that horn of the dilemma which throws the blame on the Universityconstituencies. For some reason or other, those constituencies whichmight be supposed to be more enlightened, more thoughtful and betterinformed, than any others are those in which the principles which wedeem to be those of right reason find least favour. Even in the mostLiberal part of the kingdom, the University constituencies are the leastLiberal part of the electoral body. The facts are clear; we must grapplewith them as we can. There is something in education, in culture, inrefinement, or whatever the qualities are which are supposed todistinguish University electors from the electors of an ordinary countyor borough, which makes University electors less inclined to what wehold to be the principles of right reason than the electors of anordinary county or borough. Education, culture, or whatever it is, clearly has, in political matters, a weak side to it. There is the fact;we must look it in the face. 

After all perhaps the fact is not very wonderful. There is no need toinfer either that Liberal principles are wrong or that Universityeducation is a bad thing. The _Spectator_ goes philosophically into thematter. The Universities give--that is, we may suppose, to those whotake, only a common degree--only a moderate education, an averageeducation, a little knowledge and a little culture springing from it. And the effect of this little knowledge and little culture is to makethose who have it satisfied with the state of things in which they findthemselves, and to separate themselves from those who have not even thatlittle knowledge and little culture. "Education, " says the _Spectator_, "to the very moderate extent to which a University degree attests it, isa Conservative force, because to that extent at all events it does muchmore to stimulate the sense of privilege and caste than it does toenlarge the sympathies and to strengthen the sense of justice. " That is, it would seem, a pass degree tends to make a man a Tory. It does not atall follow that even the passman's course is mischievous to him on thewhole, even if it does him no good politically. For, if it has theeffect which the _Spectator_ says, the form which that effect takes is, in most cases, rather to keep a man a Tory than to make him one. And itmay none the less do him good in some other ways. But the _Spectator_leaves it at least open to be inferred that a higher degree, or ratherthe knowledge and consequent culture implied in the higher degree, does, or ought to do, something different even in the political way. And suchan inference would probably be borne out by facts. If Lord Carnarvonlooks on all passmen as "men of literary eminence and intellectualpower, " he must be very nearly right in his figures when he says thatthree-fourths of such men are opposed to Mr. Gladstone. But those whohave really profited by their University work may doubt whether passmenas such are entitled to that description. Indeed in the most ideal stateof an University, though it might be reasonable to expect its members tobe men of intellectual power, it would be unreasonable to expect all ofthem to be men of literary eminence. If by literary eminence be meantthe writing of books, some men of very high intellectual power are menof no literary eminence whatever. Without therefore requiring theUniversity members to be elected wholly by men of literary eminence, wemay fairly ask that they may be elected by men of more intellectualpower than the mass of the present electors. We should ask for this, even if we thought that Lord Carnarvon was right, if we thought that, the higher the standard of the electors, the safer would be the Toryseats. But it is perhaps only human nature to ask for it the more, if wehappen to think that the raising of the standard would have the exactlyopposite result. 

The evil then, to sum up the result of the _Spectator's_ argument, isthat the University elections are determined by the votes of thepassmen, and that the mass of the passmen are Tories. Now what is theremedy for this evil? One very obvious remedy is always, on suchoccasions as that which has just happened, whispered perhaps rather thanvery loudly proclaimed. This is the doctrine that the representation ofUniversities in Parliament is altogether a mistake, and that it would bewell if the Universities were disfranchised by the next Reform Bill. And, if the question could be discussed as a purely abstract one, thereis no doubt much to be said, from more grounds than one, againstUniversity representation. There is only one ground on which separateUniversity representation can be justified on the common principles onwhich an English House of Commons is put together. This is the groundthat each University is a distinct community from the city or borough inwhich it is locally placed, something in the same way in which it isheld that a city or borough is a distinct community from the county inwhich it locally stands. The University of Oxford has interests, feelings, a general corporate being, distinct from the city of Oxford, just as the city of Oxford has interests, feelings, a general corporatebeing, distinct from the county of Oxford. So, if one were maliciouslygiven, one might go on to argue that the choice of a representative madeby the borough of Woodstock seems to show that the inhabitants of thatborough have something in them which makes them distinct fromUniversity, county, city, or any other known division of mankind. Regarding then these differences, the wisdom of our forefathers hasruled, not that the county of Oxford, the city, the University, and theboroughs of Woodstock and Banbury, should join to elect nine membersafter the principle of _scrutin de liste_, but that the nine membersshould be distributed among them according to their local divisions, after the principle of _scrutin d'arrondissement_. On any ground butthis local one, a ground which applies to some Universities and not toothers, and which seems to have less weight than formerly in thoseUniversities to which it does apply, the University franchise iscertainly an anomaly. It must submit to be set down as a fancyfranchise. But it is a fancy franchise which has a great weight ofprecedent in its favour. Besides the original institution of the BritishSolomon, there is the fact that University representation has beenextended at each moment of constitutional change for a century past. Itwas extended by the Union with Ireland, by the great Reform Bill, and bythe legislation of fifteen years back. Each of these changes has addedto the number of University members. And each has added to them in a waywhich more and more forsakes the local ground, and gives to theUniversity franchise more and more the character of a fancy franchise. Dublin has less of local character than Oxford and Cambridge; London hasno local character at all. Such a grouping as that of Glasgow andAberdeen takes away all local character from Scottish Universityrepresentation. In short, whatever James the First intended, laterlegislators, down to our own day, have adopted and confirmed theprinciple of the fancy franchise as applied to the Universities. Therestands the anomaly, with the stamp of repeated re-enactment upon it. Some very strong ground must therefore be found on which to attack it. Liberals may think that there is a very strong ground in the fact thatUniversity representation tends to strengthen the Conservative interest, and not only to strengthen it, but to give it a kind of credit, asstamped with the approval of the most highly educated class of electors. But this is a ground which could not be decently brought forward. Itwould not do to propose the disfranchisement of a particular class ofelectors merely because they commonly use their franchise in favour of aparticular political party. From a party point of view, therepresentation of the cities of London and Westminster is as great apolitical evil as the representation of the Universities of Oxford andCambridge. But we could not therefore propose the disfranchisement ofthose cities. The abstract question of University representation may bediscussed some time. It may be discussed in our own time on the proposalof a Conservative government or a Conservative opposition. It may bediscussed on the proposal of a Liberal government on the day when allUniversity members are Liberals. But the disfranchisement of theUniversities could not, for very shame, be proposed by a Liberalgovernment when the answer would at once be made, and made with truth, that the Universities were to be disfranchised simply because most ofthem return Conservative members. 

We may therefore pass by the alternative of disfranchisement as lyingbeyond the range of practical politics. I use that famous phraseadvisedly, because it always means that the question spoken of hasalready shown that it will be a practical question some day or other. The other choice which is commonly given us is to confine the franchiseto residents. After every University election for many years past, andnot least after the one which has just taken place, we have always heardthe outcry that the real University is swamped by the nominalUniversity, that the body which elects in the name of the University isin no way qualified to speak in the name of the University, and that inpoint of fact it does not speak the sentiments of those to whom the nameof University more properly belongs. Reckonings are made to show that, if the election had depended, not on the large bodies of men who are nowentitled to vote, but on much smaller bodies of residents, above all ofofficial residents, professors, tutors, and the like, the result of theelection would have been different. If then, it is argued, theUniversities are to keep the right of parliamentary representation, theright of voting should be taken away from the mass of those who atpresent exercise it, and confined to those who really represent theUniversity, to those who are actually engaged on the spot, in thegovernment, the studies, or the teaching of the place. 

Now every word of this outcry is true. No one can doubt that theelectoral bodies of the Universities, as at present constituted, arequite unfit to represent the Universities, to speak in their name or toexpress their wishes or feelings. The franchise, at Oxford andCambridge, is in the hands of the two largest bodies known to theUniversity constitution, the Convocation of Oxford, the Senate ofCambridge. If we look at the University as a commonwealth of theancient, the mediæval, or the modern Swiss pattern, the election is inthe hands of the _Ekklêsia_, the _Comitia_ of Tribes, the_Portmannagemót_, the _Landesgemeinde_, the _Conseil Général_. Thefranchise is open to all academic citizens who have reached fullacademic growth, to all who have put on the _toga virilis_ as the badgeof having taken a complete degree in any faculty. That is to say, itbelongs to all doctors and masters who have kept their names on thebooks. Now, whatever such a body as this may seem in theory, we knowwhat it is in practice. It is not really an academic body. Those whoreally know anything or care anything about University matters are asmall minority. The mass of the University electors are men who are atonce non-resident and who have taken nothing more than that commondegree which the _Spectator_, quite rightly, holds to be of such smallaccount. They often, we may believe, keep their name on the books simplyin order to vote at the University elections. 

But what is the remedy? I cannot think that it is to be found inconfining the election to residents, at Oxford perhaps to members ofCongregation. [1] By such a restriction we should undoubtedly get aconstituency with a much higher average of literary eminence andintellectual power. We should get a constituency which would far moretruly represent the University as a local body. But surely we cannotlook on the Universities as purely local bodies. It has always been oneof the great characteristics--I venture to think one of the greatbeauties--of the English Universities that the connexion of the graduatewith his University does not come to an end when he ceases to reside, but that the master or doctor keeps all the rights of a master or doctorwherever he may happen to dwell. The resident body has many merits anddoes much good work; but it has its weaknesses. It is in the nature ofthings a very changing body; it must change far more from year to yearthan any other electoral body. And, though the restriction to residentswould undoubtedly raise the general character of the constituency, itwould get rid of one of its best elements. Surely those who havedistinguished themselves in the University, who have worked well for theUniversity, who are continuing in some other shape the studies or theteaching which they have begun in the University, who are in factcarrying the University into other places, are not to be looked on ascut off from the University merely because they have ceased locally toreside in it. Not a few of the best heads and the best professors--Isuspect we might say the best of both classes--are those who have notalways lived in the University, but who have been called back to itafter a period of absence. To the knowledge of local affairs, whichbelong to the mere resident, they bring a wider knowledge, a widerexperience, which makes them better judges even of local affairs. Andcan men whom the University thus welcomes after absence be deemedunworthy even to give a vote during the time of absence? One reads agreat deal about the real University being swamped by voters running infrom London clubs, barristers' chambers, country houses, countryparsonages. And no doubt a great many most incompetent voters do comefrom all those quarters. But some of the most competent come also. Therestriction to residents would have disfranchised for ever or for aseason most of our greatest scholars, the authors of the greatest works, for the last forty years. Yet surely sad men are the University in thehighest sense; they are the men best entitled to speak in its name, whether they are at a given moment locally resident or not. It wouldsurely not be a gain, it would not increase the literary eminence orintellectual power of the constituency, to shut out those men, and toconfine everything to a body made up so largely of one element which istoo permanent and another which is too fluctuating, of old heads and ofyoung tutors. Then too there is a very reasonable presumption in thehuman mind, and specially in the English mind, against taking away therights of any class of men without some very good reason. And in thiscase there are at least as strong arguments against the restriction asthere are for it. I speak only of the simple proposal to confine theelection to residents, in Oxford language to transfer it fromConvocation to Congregation. There are indeed other plans, to letConvocation elect one member and Congregation the other--something likethe election of the consuls at an early stage of the Romancommonwealth--or to leave the present members as they are, and to givethe Universities yet more members to be chosen by Congregation. Now Iwill not say that these schemes lie without the range of practicalpolitics, because they show no sign of being ever likely to come withinit. They may safely be referred to Mr. Thomas Hare. 

While therefore I see as strongly as any man the evils of election byConvocation, as Convocation is at present constituted, [2] I cannot thinkthat restriction to Congregation or to residents in any shape is theright remedy for the evil. I venture to think that there is a moreexcellent way. The remedy that I propose has this advantage, that, though it would practically lessen the numbers of the constituency, andwould, gradually at least, get rid of its most incompetent elements, itwould not be, in any constitutional sense, a restrictive measure. Itwould not deprive any recognized class of men of any right. And it wouldhave the further advantage that it would be a change which could be madeby the University itself, a change which would not be a mere politicalchange affecting parliamentary elections only, but a real academicalreform affecting other matters as well, a reform which would be simplygetting rid of a modern abuse and falling back on an older and betterstate of things. It is one of three changes which I have looked for allmy life, but towards which, amidst countless academical revolutions, Ihave never seen the least step taken. I confess that all three have thisto be said against them, that they would affect college interests andwould give the resident body a good deal of trouble. But this is noargument against the measures themselves; it only shows that it would behard work to get them passed. Of these three the first and leastimportant is the establishment of an University matriculationexamination. (Things change so fast at Oxford that this may have beenbrought in within the last term or two; but, if so, I have not heard ofit. ) Secondly, a rational reconstruction of the Schools, so as to havereal schools of history and philology--perhaps better still a school ofhistory and philology combined--without regard to worn out andunscientific distinctions of "ancient" and "modern. " Thirdly, the changewhich alone of the three concerns us now, the establishment of some kindof standard for the degree of Master of Arts. Through all the changes ofmore than thirty years, I have always said, when I have had a chance ofsaying anything, Give us neither a resident oligarchy nor a non-residentmob. Keep Convocation with its ancient powers, but let Convocation bewhat it was meant to be. Let the great assembly of masters and doctorsgo untouched; but let none be made masters or doctors who do not showsome fitness to bear those titles. Every degree was meant to be areality; it was meant, as the word _degree_ implies, to mark some kindof proficiency; a degree which does not mark some kind of proficiency isan absurdity in itself. A degree conferred without any regard to thequalifications of the person receiving it is in fact a fraud; it isgiving a testimonial without regard to the truth of the facts which thetestimonial states. Now this is glaringly the case with the degree ofMaster of Arts as at present given. In each faculty there are twostages: the lower degree of bachelor, the higher degree of master ordoctor. The lower degree is meant to mark a certain measure ofproficiency in the studies of the faculty; the higher degree is meant tomark a higher measure of proficiency, that measure which qualifies aman to become, if he thinks good, a teacher in that faculty. Thebachelor's degree is meant to mark that a man has made satisfactoryprogress in introductory studies; the master's degree is meant, as itsname implies, to mark that a man is really a master in some subject. Thebachelor's degree in short should be respectable; the master's degreeshould be honourable. Nowadays we certainly cannot say that the master'sdegree is honourable; it might be almost too much to say that thebachelor's degree is respectable. I am far from saying that anUniversity education, even for a mere passman, is worthless; I am farfrom thinking so. But the mere pass degree is very far from implyingliterary eminence or intellectual power. Eminence indeed is hardly to belooked for at the age when the bachelor's degree is taken; it is onlyone or two men in a generation who can send out "The Holy Roman Empire"as a prize essay. But the degree does not imply even the promise orlikelihood of eminence or power. The best witness to the degradation ofthe simple degree is the elaborate and ever-growing system ofclass-lists, designed to mark what the degree itself ought in somemeasure to mark. The need of having class-lists is the clearestconfession of the very small value of the simple degree by itself. And, whatever may be the value of the bachelor's degree, the value of themaster's degree is exactly the same. The master's degree proves nogreater knowledge or skill than the bachelor's degree; it proves onlythat its bearer has lived some more years and has paid some more pounds. It is given, as a matter of course, to every one who has taken thedegree of bachelor--never mind after how many plucks--and has reachedthe standing which is required of a master. The bestowing of two degreesis a mere make-believe; the higher degree proves nothing, beyond merelapse of time, which is not equally proved by the lower. 

Now this surely ought not to be. That the first degree should be nextdoor to worthless, and that the second degree should be worth no morethan the first, is surely to make University degrees a mockery, adelusion, and a snare. Men who do not know how little a degree means areapt to be deceived, even in practical matters, by its outward show. Menwho see that a degree proves very little, but who do not look muchfurther, are apt most untruly to undervalue the whole system and studiesof the University. In common consistency, in common fairness, thedegrees should mean what their names imply. The bachelor's degree shouldprove something, and the master's degree should prove something more. AsI just said, the bachelor's degree should be respectable and themaster's degree should be honourable. I should even like to see thebachelor's degree so respectable that we might get rid of the moderndevice of class-lists; but that is not our question at present. Theimmediate business is to make the master's degree a real thing, anhonest thing, to make it the sign of a higher standard than thebachelor's degree, whether the bachelor's standard be fixed high or low. Let there be some kind of standard, some kind of test. Its particularshape, whether an examination, or a disputation, or the writing of athesis, or anything else, need not now be discussed. I ask only thatthere should be a test of proficiency of some kind, and that thereshould be the widest possible range of subjects in which proficiency maybe tested. Let a man have the degree, if he shows himself capable ofscholarly or scientific treatment of some branch of some subject, butnot otherwise. The bachelor's degree should show a general knowledge ofseveral subjects, which may serve as a ground-work for the minuterknowledge of one. The master's degree should show that that minuterknowledge of some one subject has been gained. The complete degreeshould show, if not the actual presence, at least the very certainpromise, of literary eminence or intellectual power. We should thus get, neither the resident oligarchy nor the non-resident mob; we should havea body of real masters and doctors worthy of the name. Men who had oncedealt minutely with some subject of their own choice would not be likelyto throw their books aside for the rest of their days, as the man whohas merely got his bachelor's degree by a compulsory smattering oftendoes. We should get a Convocation or Senate fit, not only to electmembers of Parliament, but to do the other duties which the constitutionof the University lays on its Convocation or Senate. And I cannot helpthinking that, if such a change as this had been adopted at the time ofthe first University Commission, it would have been less needful to cutdown the powers of Convocation in the way which, Convocation being leftwhat it is, certainly was needful. 

Such a change as I propose would doubtless lessen the numbers of theconstituency. Possibly it would not lessen them quite so much as mightseem at first sight. A high standard, but a standard attainable witheffort, would surely make many qualify themselves who at present do not. Still it would lessen the numbers very considerably, and it would bemeant to do so. Yet it would not be a restrictive measure in the samesense in which confining the franchise to Congregation would be arestrictive measure. It would not take away the votes of any class. Thefranchise would still be the same, exercised by the same body; only thatbody would be purified and brought back to the character which it wasoriginally meant to bear. The purifying would be gradual. The doctrineof vested interests, that doctrine so dear to the British mind, would ofcourse secure every elector in the possession of his vote as long as helives and keeps his name on the books. But the ranks of the unqualifiedwould no longer be yearly reinforced. In course of time we should havea competent body. And the great advantage of this kind of remedy is thatit is so distinctly an academical remedy. It would not come as a mereclause in a parliamentary reform bill. It would affect the parliamentaryconstituency; but it would affect it only as one thing among others. Itwould be a general improvement in the character of the Great Council ofthe University, which would make it better qualified to discharge allits duties, that of choosing members of Parliament among them. In thepurely political look-out, we may believe that one result of the changewould be to make the election of Liberal members for the Universitiesmuch more likely. But neither this nor any other purely political resultwould be the sole and direct object of the change. Even if it did notaccomplish this object, it would do good in other ways. If theUniversities, under such a system, still chose Conservative members, weshould have no right to complain. We should feel that we had been fairlyand honourably beaten by adversaries who had a right to speak. It wouldbe an unpleasant result if the real Universities should be proved to beinveterately Tory. But it would be a result less provoking than thepresent state of things, in which Tory members are chosen for theUniversities by men who have no call to speak in the name of theUniversities at all. 

 EDWARD A. FREEMAN. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] That is, to all members of Convocation who are either resident orhold University office. This, besides the Chancellor and a few othergreat personages, lets in a few professors and examiners who arenon-resident. 

[2] I use Oxford language, as that which I myself best understand; but Ibelieve that, all that I say applies equally to Cambridge also. For"Convocation" one must of course, in Cambridge language, read "Senate. "

HAMLET: A NEW READING. 

There is a sense in which the stage alone can give the full significanceto a dramatic poem, just as a lyric finds its full interpretation inmusic; but we prefer that a song of Goethe or Shelley should wait forits music, and in the meantime suggest its own aërial accompaniment, rather than be vulgarized in the setting. And even when set for thevoice by a master, although there is a gain in as far as the charm isbrought home to the senses, yet there is a loss in proportion to thebeauty of the song; for if it is delicate the finer spiritual gracedeparts, and if it is ardent the passion is liable to scream, and, aboveall, there is a vague but appreciable loss of identity; so that on thewhole we please ourselves best with the literary form. There is the samebalance of gain and loss in the relation of the drama to the stage. Thegain is in proportion to the excellence of the acting, and the loss inproportion to the beauty o£ the play. It is well then that, as the lyricpoem no longer demands the lyre, the poetical drama has become, thoughmore recently, independent of the stage. Each has its own perspective oflife, its own idea of Nature, its own brilliancy, its own dulness, andfinally its own public; and notwithstanding the objections of somecritics, it will soon be admitted that a work may be strictly andintrinsically dramatic, and yet only fit for the study--that is, forideal representation. For there is a theatre in every imagination, wherewe produce the old masterpiece in its simplicity and dignity, and wherethe new work appears and is followed in plot and action, and conflict offeeling, and play of character, and rhythm of part with part, if notwith as keen an excitement, at least with as fair a judgment, as if wewere criticizing the actors, not the piece. And were all theatresclosed, the drama--whether as the free and spontaneous outflow ofobservation, fancy, and humour, or as the intense reflection of themovement of life in its animation of joy and pain--would remain one ofthe most natural and captivating forms in which the creative impulse ofthe poet can work. When we look at its variety and flexibility ofstructure--from the lyrical tragedy of Æschylus to a "Proverbe" of DeMusset; at its diversity of spirit--from the exuberance of a comedy ofAristophanes and the caprice of an Elizabethan mask to the serenity of"Comus" and Tasso, and the terror of "Agamemnon" and "Macbeth;" at itsrange of expression--from, the full-toned Greek and English Iambic tothe plain but sparkling prose of Molière, and from that again to theintricate harmonies of Calderon, Goethe, and Shelley; with its use ofall voices, from vociferous mob to melodious daughters of Ocean, and itscommand of all colour, from the gloom of Medea to the splendour ofMarlowe's Helen, --it is a small matter to remember the connection ofwork or author with the stage--how long they held it, how soon they weredispossessed, how and at what intervals and with what uncertain footingthey returned. We do not accept them because they were popular in theirday, and we do not reject them because they are not suitable to ours. They have lost no vivacity or strength or grace by their exclusion fromthe stage and their exile to literature--to that permanent theatre forwhich the poet, freely using any and every form of dramatic expression, should now work. 

 "There is the playhouse now, there you must sit.... For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our king. "

The relevancy of these remarks, as an introduction to a study of one ofShakespeare's plays, will presently appear. 

I. 

Shakespeare, although a master of theatrical effect, is often foundworking rather away from it than toward it, and at a meaning and beautybeyond the limits of stage expression. This is because he is moredramatist than playwright, and will always produce and complete his workin its ideal integrity, even if, in so doing, he outruns the sympathy ofhis audience. This disposition may be traced not only in the plays ithas banished from the stage, including such a masterpiece as "Antony andCleopatra, " but in those that are universally popular, such as "TheMerchant of Venice, " where the fifth Act, although it closes andharmonizes the drama as a work of art with perfect grace, is but a tameconclusion to the theatrical piece; and in the scenes that furnish uswith the delicate and finished study of Antonio, we find the audienceintent on the situation and the poet on the character; for we no moreexpect to see the true Antonio on the stage than to see the truemoonlight shimmering on the trees in Belmont Park. But sometimes theplay will transcend the limits of stage expression by being too purelyand perfectly dramatic, as in "Lear. " For not only is it, as Lamb pointsout, [3] impossible for the actor to give the convulsions of the father'sgrief, and yet preserve the dignity of the king, but the sustainedintensity of passion fatigues both voice and ear when they should bemost impressive and impressed. Had Shakespeare written with a view tostage effect, he would not in the first two acts have stretched thevoice through all the tones and intervals of passion, and then demandmore thrilling intonations and louder outcries to meet and match thetumult of the storm. This greatest of all tragedies is written beyondthe compass of the human voice, and can only be fully represented onthat ideal stage, where, instead of hoarse lament and husky indignation, we hear each of us the tones that most impress and affect us, and cancommand the true degrees of feeling in their illimitable scale. 

But in "Hamlet" the inadequacy of the stage is of another kind. It leadsto a general displacement of motive, and change of focus, the hero'scharacter being obscured in the attempt to make it effective. And forthis to some extent the stage itself, as a place of popularentertainment, and not the actor, is at fault. Some such ambiguity asthis seems, indeed, only natural, when we recall the circumstancesattending the composition of the play. 

By common consent of the best authorities, "Hamlet" represents the workof many years. I make no conjectures, but content myself with Mr. Dowden's statement of the case:--"Over 'Hamlet, ' as over 'Romeo andJuliet, ' it is supposed that Shakespeare laboured long and carefully. Like 'Romeo and Juliet, ' the play exists in two forms, and there isreason to believe that in the earlier form, in each instance, we possessan imperfect report of Shakespeare's first treatment of his theme, "[4]We know also that Shakespeare had before him, at least as early as 1589, an old play in which "a ghost cried dismally like an oyster wife, 'Hamlet! Revenge!'" and Shakespeare worked upon this until from what wasprobably a rather sorry melodrama he produced the most intellectual playthat keeps the stage. And the very sensational character of the pieceenabled him to steal into it the results of long and deep meditationwithout hazard to its popularity. He seems to have withdrawn Hamlet fromtime to time for a special study, and then to have restored andreadjusted the hero to the play, touching and modulating, here andthere, character and incident in harmony with the new expression. Inthis way a new direction and significance would be given to the plot, but in a latent and unobtrusive way, so as not to weaken the popularinterest. This leads to the ambiguity of which I have spoken. The newthought is often not earnestly but ironically related to the oldmaterial, and the spiritual hero seems almost to stand apart from therude framework of the still highly sensational theatrical piece. Thishas given rise to a rather favourite saying with the Germans, thatHamlet is a modern. Hamlet seems to step forth from an antiquatedtime, --with its priestly bigotry, its duels for a province, itsheavy-headed revels, its barbarous code of revenge, and its ghostlyvisitations to enforce it, --to meet and converse with a riper age. Butthis is because Hamlet belongs wholly and intimately to the poet, whilethe other characters, though informed with new and original expression, are left in close relation, to the old plot. 

Such being the ambiguity resulting from this continued spiritualizationof the play, the actor would instinctively endeavour to remove it, andto bring the hero in closer relation with the main action of the stagepiece. Hamlet must not be too disengaged; he must not be too ironical. Afew omissions, a fit of misplaced fury, a too emphatic accent, a tooeffective attitude, with what is called a bold grasp of character, andShakespeare's latest and finest work on the hero is obliterated. 

Now, the great actors who have personated Hamlet have done much, and thethrilling treatment of the ghost-story has done more, to stamp upon theminds of learned and unlearned alike the impression that _the greatevent of Hamlet's life is the command to kill his uncle_. As he does notdo this, and as he is given to much meditation and much discussion, itis assumed that he thinks and talks in order to avoid acting. And thenthe word "irresolution" leaps forth, and all is explained. This curiousassumption, that all the pains taken by Shakespeare on the work and itshero has no other object but to illustrate this theme--a command to killand a delayed obedience--pervades the criticism even of those whoconsider the intellectual element the great attraction of the play. Andyet, when you ask what is the dramatic situation out of which thisspeculative matter arises, the German and English critics alike reply inchorus, "Irresolution. " Each one has his particular shade of it, andfinds something not quite satisfactory in the interpretations of others. Goethe's finished portrait of Hamlet as the amiable and accomplishedyoung prince, too weak to support the burden of a great action, did notrecommend itself either to Schlegel or Coleridge, who take the mentalrather than the moral disposition to task. Schlegel, with some asperity, speaks of "a calculating consideration that cripples the power ofaction;" and Coleridge, with more subtlety, applies Hamlet's antithesisof thought and resolution to the elucidation of his own character, concluding that Hamlet "procrastinates from thought. " Gervinus, whilefollowing Schlegel as to "the bent of Hamlet's mind to reflect upon thenature and consequences of his deed, and by this means to paralyze hisactive powers, " adds to this defect a deplorable conscientiousness, which unfits Hamlet for the great duty of revenge. And Mr. Dowden, whilemost ably collating these various kinds and degrees of irresolution, concludes that Hamlet is "disqualified for action by his excess of thereflective faculty. " Mr. Swinburne alone resolutely protests againstthis doctrine. He speaks of "the indomitable and ineradicable fallacy ofcriticism which would find the key-note of Hamlet's character in thequality of irresolution. "[5] And he considers that Shakespeare purposelyintroduces the episode of the expedition to England to exhibit "theinstant and almost unscrupulous resolution of Hamlet's character in timeof practical need. " I gladly welcome this instructive remark, which, although Mr. Swinburne calls it "the voice of one crying in thewilderness, " is more likely to gain me a patient hearing than anyarguments I can use. But before I propose my own reading, I will, as Ihave given the genesis or natural history of this theory ofirresolution, compare it with the general features of Hamlet's mentalcondition throughout the play. 

If Hamlet "procrastinates from thought, " if "the burden of the action istoo heavy for him to bear, " if "by a calculating consideration heexhausts all possible issues of the action, " it should at least becontinually present to his mind. We should look for the delineation of asoul harassed and haunted by one idea; torn by the conflict betweenconscience and filial obedience; or balancing advantage and peril in anagony of suspense and vacillation; forecasting consequence and result tohimself and others; and so absorbed in this terrible secret as toexclude all other interests. We have two studies of such a state ofirresolution, in Macbeth and Brutus. Of Macbeth it may truly be saidthat he has an action upon his mind the burden of which is too heavy forhim to bear. It is constantly before him; he is shaken with it, possessed by it, to such a degree that

 "function Is smother'd in surmise; and nothing is But what is not. "

Now "he will proceed no further in this business, " and now "he issettled and bound up to it, " and in one long perturbed soliloquy standsbefore us the very picture of that irresolution which "procrastinatesfrom thought. " Brutus thus describes his own suspense:--

 "Between the action of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: The genius, and the mortal instruments, Are then in council: and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection. "

But what is the general course and scope of Hamlet's utterance, whetherto himself or others? We find musings and broodings on the possibilityof escape from so vile a world alternating with cool and keen analysis, polished criticism, and petulant wit; we find a pervading ironicalbitterness, rising at times to fierce invective, and even to the frenzyof passion when his mother is the theme, relapsing again to trance-likemeditations on the depravity of the world, the littleness of man and thenullity of appearance; and when his mind does revert to this "greataction, " this "dread command, " which is supposed to haunt it, and tokeep it in a whirl of doubt and irresolution, it is because it isforcibly recalled to it, because some incident startles him torecollection, proves to him that he has forgotten it, and he turns uponhimself with surprise and indignation: Why is it this thing remains todo? Am I a coward! Do I lack gall? Is it "bestial oblivion?" or is it

 "some craven scruple Of thinking too precisely on the event?"

On this text, so often quoted in support of the orthodox "irresolution"theory, I will content myself at present with the remark, thats surelyno one before or after Hamlet ever accounted for his non-performance ofa duty by the double explanation that he had either entirely forgottenit or had been thinking too much about it. 

Looking then at the general features of Hamlet's talk, it is plain thatto make this command to revenge the clue to his mental condition, is tomake him utter a great deal of desultory talk without dramatic point orpertinence; for if, except when surprised by the actors' tears or by thegallant bearing of the troops of Fortinbras, he wholly forgets it, whatdoes he remember? What is the secret motive of this prolonged criticismof the world which "charms all within its magic circle?"

The true centre will be found, I think, by substituting the word"preoccupation" for the word "irresolution. " And the "preoccupation" isfound by antedating the crisis of Hamlet's career from the revelation ofthe ghost to the marriage of his mother, and the persistent mental andmoral condition thus induced. Start from this, as a fixed point, and adramatic situation is gained in which every stroke of satire, everycuriosity of logic, every strain of melancholy; is appropriate andpertinent to the action. 

In order to measure the full effect of this strange event, we must bringbefore us the Hamlet of the earlier time, before his father's death, andfor this we have abundant material in the play. 

II. 

Hamlet was an enthusiast. His love for his father was not an ordinaryfilial affection, it was a hero-worship. He was to him the type ofsovereignty--

 "The front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;"

a link between earth and heaven--

 "A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man. "

To Hamlet, this "assurance of a man" was the great reality which madeother things real, which gave meaning to life, and substance to theworld. That his love for his mother was equally intense, is clearlydiscernible in the inverted characters of his rage and grief. In her hereverenced wifehood and womanhood. He sees the rose on

 "the fair forehead of an innocent love. "

And of his mother we are told--

 "The queen his mother Lives almost by his looks. "

But this enthusiasm was connected with a habit of thought that wasrather critical than sentimental. Hamlet had a shrewd judgment, a livelyand caustic wit, an exacting standard, and a turn for satire. He wasfond of question and debate, an enemy to all illusion, impatient ofdulness, [typo for dullness?] and not indisposed to alarm and bewilderit; and he had brought with him from Wittenberg a philosophy halfstoical and half transcendental, with whose eccentricities he wouldtorment the wisdom of the Court. He looked upon the machinery of poweras part of the comedy of life, and would be more amused than impressedby the equipage of office, its chains and titles, the frowns ofauthority, and the smiles of imaginary greatness. He therefore of allmen needed a personal centre in which faith and affection could unite togive seriousness and dignity to life; and this he had found from hischildhood in the sovereign virtues of the King and Queen. So that hiscriticism in these earlier days was but the fastidiousness of love, thatdisparages all other excellence in comparison with its own ideal; hisphilosophy was a disallowance of all other reality; and his negationsonly defined and brightened his faith. Doubt, question and speculation, mystery and anomaly, the illusions of sense, the instability of natures, all that was irrational in life, with its certainties of logic andhazards of chance, all that was unproven in religion, dubious inreceived opinion, obscure in the destiny of man, were but glimpses of alarger unity, vistas of truth unexplored. 

Hamlet's thinking is always marked by that quality of penetration intoand through the thoughts of others, that is called free-thinking. Thediscovery, as he moved in the spiritual world of established ideas andsettled doctrines, apparently immovable, that they were of the samestuff as his own thoughts--were pliant and yielding, and could bereadily unwoven by the logic that wove them, would tempt him to move anddisplace, and build and construct, until he might have a collection ofopinions large enough to be termed a philosophy. But it would begathered rather in the joy of intellectual activity, realizing its ownenergy, and ravelling up to its own form the woof of other minds, thanwith any practical bearing on life. All this was a work in anothersphere--

 "of no allowance to his bosom's truth. "

The light of a sovereign manhood and womanhood was reflected on theworld around him, and afar on the world of thought---their greatnessreconciled all the contradictions of life. And in pure submission totheir control all the various activities of his versatile nature, itsirony and its earnestness, its shrewdness and its fancy, its piety andits free-thinking, harmonized like sweet bells not yet jangled oruntuned. He lived at peace with all, in fellowship with all; he couldrally Polonius without malice, and mimic Osric without contempt. 

It is plain that Hamlet looked forward to a life of activity under hisfather's guidance. He was no dreamer--we hear of "the great love thegeneral gender bear him, " and the people are not fond of dreamers. Intruth, the Germans have had too much their own way with Hamlet, and haveread into him something of their own laboriousness and phlegm. ButHamlet was more of a poet than a professor. He had the temperament of aman of genius--impatient, animated, eager, swift to feel, to like ordislike, praise or resent--with a character of rapidity in all hisactions, and even in his meditation, of which he is conscious when hesays, "as swift as meditation. " He did not live apart as a student, butin public as a prince--

 "the observed of all observers;"

he was of a free, open, unsuspicious temper--

 "remiss, Most generous and free from all contriving. "

He was fond of all martial exercises and expert in the use of the sword. He was a soldier first, a scholar afterwards; a soldier in his alacrityto fight

 "Until his eyelids would no longer wag;"

a soldier even to

 "The glass of fashion, and the mould of form;"

and, above all, a soldier in his sensibility on the point of honour, onewho would think it well

 "Greatly to find quarrel in a straw, When honour is at stake. "

And Fortinbras, type of the man of action, recognized in him a kindredspirit--

 "Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage; For he was likely, had he been put on, To have proved most royally;"

while Hamlet eyed Fortinbras with the envious longing of one who hadmissed his career. What must have been the felicity of life to such aman, whose vivacity no stress of calamity, no accumulation of sorrowcould tame, whose enthusiasm embraced Nature, art, and literature, andwhose delight was always fresh and new, "in this excellent canopy theair, in this brave o'erhanging firmament, "' and in the spectacle of man"so excellent in faculty, in form and moving so express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god?"

Without a warning the blow fell. His father was suddenly struck down;and while he was indulging a grief, poignant and profound indeed, butnatural, wholesome, manly, his uncle usurped the crown. This second blowwould be acutely felt, but it would rather rouse than prostrate hisenergies. There is no passion in Hamlet when there has been no love. Andhe had always held his uncle in slight esteem--foreboded something fromhis smiling insincerity. He never mentions him without an expression ofcontempt, hardly acknowledges him as king; he is a thing--of nothing--afarcical monarch--"a peacock"--and, in this particular act, no dreadusurper, but a "cut-purse of the realm. " Whether he designed to wait orwas prepared to strike, his future was still intact, his energyunimpaired. His mother remained to him, now doubly dear and doublygreat, and with her the tradition of the past. She was, as he gatheredfrom her silence, like himself, retired from the world, absorbed ingrief; but he was assured of her constancy and truth. Even the kind ofdistance between them in age and sex, in mind and character, was nobarrier to this sympathetic relation. She was there with the expectationthat makes heroism possible; she was there to watch, if not to furtherhis enterprise, and to give it lustre with her praise. We are oftenquite unconscious of the commanding influence exerted on our life bythose who are least in contact with it. To be cognizant of one steadfastand stainless soul is to have encouragement in difficulty and support inpain. The mere knowledge of its existence is a light within the mind, and a secret incentive to the best action. Though silent and apart, itis the witness of what is great, and our life is always seeking to risewithin its sphere; while, by a secret transference--for souls are notretentive of their own goodness--our standards of living and thinkingare maintained at their highest level, like water fed by a distantspring. All this and infinitely more than this was the Queen his motherto Hamlet. It is impossible, therefore, to measure the effect upon himof her marriage with his uncle. The shock of it is ever fresh throughoutthe play. In the third Act the whole frame of nature is still aghast atit:--

 "Heaven's face doth glow; Yea, this solidity and compound mass, With tristful visage, as against the doom, Is thought-sick at the act. "

And this was not only after the revelation of the Ghost, but after theconfirmation of its truth by the test Hamlet had himself applied. Eventhen the first paroxysm has hardly subsided. You see the whole beingmeasured by it, the mind stretched to give it utterance, the worldcalled as a witness to its enormity:--

III. 

But it is at an earlier stage of this impression, when the thought ofthis profanation of the sacredness of life and the sanctity of lovechills the life-blood of his heart, and then rushes burning through itlike the shame of a personal insult, that he first stands before us inthe palace of the King. In appearance nothing is changed. He sees thesame crowd, the same obsequious attitudes, the same decorous forms; thetrumpets with their usual flourish announce the arrival of the King andQueen; the Ministers of State precede them, and the Court ladies; thepretentious gravity of Polonius' brow; the dreamy innocence of Ophelia. The sovereigns seat themselves, the Queen looks smilingly around her asof old. All is easy, bright, and festive. All goes on as if thishorrible revolution were the most natural thing in the world. Oh, thathe could avoid the sight of it! Oh, that he could be quit of it all!

 "Oh! that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew; Or that the Everlasting had not fixed His canon 'gainst self-slaughter!"

Although the nervous horror of his address to the Ghost is greater, there is no speech in which Hamlet betrays so deep an agitation as inthis. He struggles for utterance, repeats himself, mingles oaths andaxioms, confuses and then annihilates time in the breathless tumult ofhis soul. "Why, she, _even she_. O Heaven!" What can he say? what isvile enough? "A _beast_

 "that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourned longer--married with my uncle. "

In this opening speech we see at once the immediate relation of thefeeling of life-weariness so prevalent throughout the play to thissupreme emotion; we see also his comprehensive criticism of the worldbranching from the same root--

 "How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seems to me all the uses of this world! Fie, on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden;"

and

 "Frailty, thy name is woman. "

These themes are developed Act by Act, we can follow them to thegraveyard scene, and to the moment before death. 

And it is not unnatural that Hamlet's grief should assume acomprehensive form. The Queen had drawn the world in her train. Noblesand people, councillors and courtiers, the honoured statesman, theartless maiden, had joined her, had connived, were her accomplices. Theyhad, parted among them, all the vices appropriate to _her_ Court, _her_people. The world was betrayed to Hamlet in all its meanness andlittleness: and he looked at it to see if he could discover the secretof his mother's treason, as Lear would anatomize the heart of Regan toaccount for her ingratitude. In attacking it he is attacking her guilt, in its inferior forms and obscure disguises. It is the nest of herdepravity, and the small vices are but hers in the shell, and the wholeis a vast confederacy of evil. Here are no "superfluous activities, " nodesultory talk; Hamlet's preoccupation is one throughout. He alternatesbetween the desire to escape from so vile a world, and the pleasure ofexposing its vice and fraud. The one gives us soliloquies, the otherdialogues. Now he looks out at an obscure eternity from a time that wasmore obscure, and now the tension of the mind relieves the tension ofthe heart. On the one side we have all passages of life-weariness, whether as the issue of long meditation, or as the outcome of familiartalk; and on the other we have the brilliant and discursive criticism ofman and Nature continued throughout the play. All this is so closelyconnected with the treason of his mother, that we see the veryattachment of the feeling to the thought. 

This explains the particular bitterness with which he attacks theMinisters and parasites of the Court. As soon as he sees them he crossesthe current of their talk, commits them to an argument, confuses themwith the evolutions of a logic too rapid for their senses to follow, andmakes their bewilderment a sport. How small their world appears in themirror of his ironical mind! The state-craft, the love-making, the"absurd pomp, " the "heavy-headed revels, " the women that "jig and ambleand lisp, " the nobles that are "spacious in the possession of dirt, " thesovereign that is a "king of shreds and patches;" as for their opinions, "do but blow; them to their trials, and the bubbles are out;" as fortheir ideas of prosperity, it is to act as "sponges and soak up theking's countenance, his rewards and authorities;" as for their standardof worth, "let a beast be a lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand atthe king's table. " It is a disgrace to live in such a world, andcontemptible to share its pleasures and prizes. 

But his quarrel with it does not end here. The flaw runs through thewhole constitution of things; there is no possible equation between theanomalies and dislocations on which he turns the dry light of thatsceptical philosophy which has usurped the place of faith. Thought isgood and action is good, but they will not work together. Our reason isour glory, but our indiscretions serve us best--we must either becowards or fools. We have a perception of infinite goodness, justsufficient to make us conclude that we are "arrant knaves, all of us, "and just enough belief in immortality "to perplex our wills. " There isnothing but disagreement and disproportion--a constant missing of themark, a stretching of the hand for that which is not. How is it possibleto take seriously such a life if you pause to think?

It is not only irrational but visionary. The evanescence and fluency ofNature would matter little, but man himself, with his ingenuities of witand triumphs of ambition, is whirled from form to form in "a finerevolution if we had the trick to see it. " This is a favourite idea, itlends itself so easily to the contempt of the world--

 "Imperious Cæsar, dead, and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away, "

is only a variation of "a man may fish with the worm that has eat of aking, and eat of the fish that has fed on the worm. "

In this collision with the world, alone and unsupported, Hamlet'snatural buoyancy returns. It is the moment of isolation, but it is themoment also of intellectual freedom. It is desertion, but it is alsoindependence. Every incongruity feeds his fanciful and inventive humour. He follows vanity and affectation with irony and mimicry, removes a maskwith the point of his dexterous wit, and exposes the pretence of virtueor conceit of knowledge with sarcastic glee, while there is a savour ofretribution in his chastisement of vice. The vivacity of this runningcomment, critical and satirical, on the ways and works of men adds muchto the charm of the play, but it is a charm that properly belongs tothe best comedy. And Shakespeare has marked this disengagement of hishero from the sanguinary plot by reserving the exaltation of verse tothe expression of personal feeling, while the lithe and nimble movementof his prose follows with its undulating rhythm every turn of Hamlet'swayward mind, in subtlety of argument or caprice of fancy. 

Such is the "preoccupation" of Hamlet, emotional and intellectual. Ihave purposely made it seem a separate study, as thus alone could thisfatal "thought-sickness, " in which Heaven and Earth seemed to partake, be treated with the requisite clearness and fulness. 

We can see at once that no other claim to the command of his spirit islikely to succeed. His mind is already haunted. No Ghost can be morespiritual than his own thoughts, or more spectral than the world aroundhim. No revelation of a particular crime can rival the revelation latelymade to him of sin in the most holy place--the seat of virtue itself andheavenly purity. He may acknowledge the ties of filial obedience and theduty of revenge, but there is no place, nor obligation tohold, no world to which it may be attached, no faith or interest strongenough within him to give it vitality, no fruit of good result to belooked for without. The place is occupied:

 "For where the greater malady is fixed The lesser scarce is felt. "

When Hamlet says, "There is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes itso, " he confesses himself an idealist--that is, one to whom ideas arenot images or opinions, but the avenues of life. They garner uphappiness and they store the harvest of pain; they make the "majesticalroof fretted with golden fire" and the "pestilential cloud. " The basison which Hamlet's happiness had rested had been suddenly removed, andwith the sanctity of the past the promise of the future had disappeared;the sky and the earth. He could say to his mother:

 "Du hast sie zerstört Die schöne Welt;"

but the new world is built of the same materials--that is, absorbingideas. The shadow descends till it measures the former brightness; therevulsion is as great as the enthusiasm. 

IV. 

Why, then, does he accept the mission of the Ghost? To answer this fullywe must accompany him to the platform. 

In this scene Hamlet exhibits in perfection all the elements ofcourage--coolness, determination, daring. He is singularly free fromexcitement; and this is not because he is absorbed in his own thoughts, for he easily falls into conversation, and treats the first subject thatcomes to hand with his usual felicity and fulness, rising from theprivate instance to a public law, and applying it to large and largergroups of facts till his father's spirit stands before him. Thrilled andstartled he pauses not, "harrowed with fear and wonder like Horatio onthe previous night, but at once addresses it, as he said he would, though hell itself should gape. " No more dignified rebuke ever shamedterror from the soul than Hamlet administers to his panic-strickenfriends, and when they would forcibly withhold him from following theGhost, the steady determination with which he draws his sword is markedby the play upon words:

 "By Heav'n, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me. "

In the presence of his father the old life is rekindled within hisfilial awe and affection, unquestioned obedience, daring resolve. Hewill "sweep to his revenge, "

 "And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmixed with baser matter. "

And this commandment had forbidden him to taint his mind against hismother. 

But what is his first exclamation when he is released from physicalhorror, and his thoughts regain the living world? It is

 "O! most pernicious woman!"

This singular phrase is one of Shakespeare's final touches, as does notappear in the quarto of 1603; and it marks, therefore, his deliberateintention, and is of the highest significance. He who will hereafter beso often amazed at his own forgetfulness has already forgotten. 

When his friends reappear, Hamlet is in a half-ironical humourous andassuming an astonishing superiority over ghost and mortal alike informsthem--

 "It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you. "

But when this honest ghost plays sepulchral tricks, Hamlet shows smallrespect to it, and at last, in a tone of almost command, cries--

 "Rest! rest! perturbed spirit!"

Does Hamlet slight the command of the Ghost? By no means. He neverrepudiates it or even calls it in question. There is no hesitation, cavil, or debate in the acceptance of it as a duty. But the purposecools. It cools even on the platform. What passes within him is hardly aprocess of thought, otherwise some intimation of it would be given inhis numerous self-communings. But there is a process prior to thoughtin which the relations of things are felt before they are defined, and aconclusion is reached, and a disposition decided, without the mediationof the reason. There is a vague attraction this way or that, a blindforecast and correlation of issues, and the whole being is so influencedthat, while there is no register of result in the memory, there is adirection of the will and a determination of conduct. From the shadow ofthe future that passes thus before his spirit he shrinks averse. Toscramble for a throne--to lord it over such a crew--to be linked to themas by chains--to return to that polluted Court--to be the centre ofintrigues and hatreds--and for what? To leave the darker deeper eviluntouched. Some process such as this may account for the change from"sweeping to his revenge" to

 "The time is out of joint;--O cursed spite! That ever I was born to set it right!"

In the meantime, in the well-lit chambers of consciousness, no note istaken of this shadowy logic. This may appear paradoxical: but the lastof the changes from love to indifference, from faith to doubt, is theavowal of change. When the ties of habit and tradition are inwardlyoutgrown, we bend and intend with our whole being in a new directionwithout the purpose or even the desire to move. So Hamlet silentlyevades the obligation he so readily undertakes, and sinks back into thatmore powerful interest that almost at once regains possession of hismind. Still, before he quits the scene of this ghastly disclosure, heresolves to counterfeit madness--and this for two reasons: he will seem(to himself) to be conspiring, and he will gain a license to speak hismind without offence. This is the only use to which he puts this mask ofmadness, as Coleridge has remarked. But why should he instinctively seekto gain more latitude of speech? Because since the marriage of hismother he had suffered from an enforced silence with regard to theproceedings of the Court, as he distinctly tells us in the firstsoliloquy--

 "But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue!"

From his first utterances after he had left the platform, we at onceinfer that the mission of the Ghost had failed. There is nothing thatHamlet would sooner part with "than his life. " There is, therefore, noprospect before his mind, no awakening energy, no latent enterprise. With what relief, on the contrary, does he turn from the real to theideal world! How cordially does he welcome the players, and howgracefully, so that we seem for the first time to make acquaintance withhis natural tone and manner. Here at least is man's world, whose realitycan never be undermined. He plies them with questions, indulges inliterary criticism, and asks for a recitation. Suddenly he sees tearsin the actors' eyes. He hurries them away, and when he is alone breaksout--

 "Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!"

He is jealous of the players' tears. Here again is no debate, but simplysurprise at his own apathy. He tries to lash himself to fury but fails, and falls back on the practical test he is about to apply to the guiltof the king which he must appear to doubt, or this pseudo-activitywould be too obviously superfluous. 

In the interval between the instruction to the players and the play, Hamlet's mind, unless absorbed by some strong preoccupation, wouldnaturally turn to the issue of the plot; and he would reveal, if headmitted us to the secret workings of his mind, if not resolution, atleast irresolution, something to mark the vacillation of which we hearso much. But we find that the whole matter has dropped from his mind, and that he has drifted back to the theme of--

 "Oh! that this too too solid flesh would melt!"

It is now recast more in the tone of deliberate thought than of excitedfeeling: he asks not which is best for him, but which is "nobler in themind, "--an impersonal, a profoundly human question, which so fascinatesour attention that we forget its irrelevance to the matter in hand orwhat we assume to be the matter in hand. It is as if he had never seenthe Ghost. In his profound preoccupation he speaks of the "bourne fromwhich no traveller returns, " and of "evils that we know not of, "although the Ghost had told him "of sulphurous and tormenting flames. "Hamlet muses, "To sleep! perchance to dream, --ay, there's the rub, " butthe Ghost had said--

 "I am thy father's spirit, Doomed for a certain term to walk the night, And, for the day, confined to fast in fires. "

It is plain that the "traveller" that had returned was not present atall to his mental vision nor his tale remembered. In his formermeditation he had accepted the doctrine of the church; here heinterrogates the human spirit in its still place of judgment; and hegives its verdict with a sigh of reluctance--

 "Thus conscience does make cowards of us all. "

Considering that this and the succeeding lines occur at the end of asoliloquy on suicide, --that there is not only the absence of anyreference to the ghostly action, but positive proof that the subject wasnot present to his thoughts, it is nothing less than astonishing thatthis passage should be quoted as Hamlet's witness to his own"irresolution. " He would willingly take his own life; conscience forbidsit; therefore conscience makes us cowards: and then with a stillfurther generalization he announces the opposition of thought andresolution, causing the failure of

 "enterprises of great pith and moment. "

Now the only enterprise on which lie was engaged--the testing of theking's conscience--was in a fair way of success, and did, in fact, ultimately succeed. 

The scene with Ophelia that immediately follows is the development ofanother theme in the first soliloquy, "Frailty! thy name is woman. "Ophelia is inseparably connected with the queen in Hamlet's mind. She isa Court maiden, sheltered, guarded, cautioned, and, as we see in thewarnings of Polonius and Laertes, cautioned in a tone that is suggestiveof evil. What scenes she must have witnessed--the confusion on the deathof the king, the exclusion of Hamlet from the throne, the marriage ofthe queen to the usurper! Yet she takes it all quite sweetly andsubserviently. She is as docile to events as she is to parental advice. To such a one every circumstance is a fate, and she bows to it, as shebows to her father: "Yes, my lord, I will obey my lord. " She deniesHamlet's access to her though he is in sorrow; though he has lost all, she will "come in for an after loss. " One would rather leave herblameless in the sweetness of her maiden prime and the pathos of herend, but to place her, as some do, high on the list of Shakespeare'speerless women fastens upon Hamlet unmerited reproach. There is a lovethat includes friendship, as religion includes morality, and such wasPortia's for Bassanio. There is a love whose first instinctive movementis to share the burden of the loved one, and such was Miranda's love forFerdinand. And there is a love that reserves the light of its light andthe perfume of its sweetness for the shadowed heart and the sunlessmind. How would Cordelia have addressed this king and queen--how wouldshe have aroused the energy of Hamlet and rehabilitated his trust, withthat voice, soft and low indeed, but firmer than the voice of Cato'sdaughter claiming to know her husband's cause of grief! As Hamlet talksto Ophelia, you perceive that the marriage of his mother is more presentto him than the murder of his father. He discourses on the frailty ofwoman and the corruption of the world; "Go to, it hath made me mad. Wewill have no more marriages. "

The play is acted. The king is "frighted with false fire, " and Hamlet isleft with the feeling of a dramatic success and the proof of his uncle'sguilt. He sings snatches of song. Horatio falls in with his mood. "Youmight have rhymed, " he says. The only effect of the confirmation of theghost's story, as at its first hearing, is a fresh blaze of indignationagainst his mother. When Polonius has delivered his message that thequeen would speak with him, Hamlet presently says, "Leave me, friend;"and then his mind clouds like the mind of Macbeth before he enters thechamber of Duncan--

 "'Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on. "

As he passes to the Queen's closet in this tense and dangerous mood, hesees the king on his knees. His brow relaxes in a moment; he stops, looks curiously at him, and says, familiarly--

 "Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying. "

He did not mean to do it, because he was on his way to his mother'scloset, but some reason must be found. The word "praying" suggests it. "This would be scanned;" and he scans it, and decides to leave him foranother day. As he enters the closet to speak the words "like daggers, "his quick decisive gesture and shrill peremptory tones alarm the queen. She rises to call for help; he seizes her roughly: "Come, come, and sityou down. " Nothing can mark Hamlet's awful resentment more than hispersistence through two interruptions that would have unnerved thebravest, and checked the most relentless spirit. As he looks at hismother there is that in his countenance bids her cry aloud forassistance. There is a movement behind the arras. Hamlet lunges at once. Is it the king? No; it is but Polonius. Had it been the king, it wouldnot have diverted him from his purpose. He is no more afraid of killingthan he is afraid of death, and is as hard to arrest in his reproof ofhis mother as in his talk with his father:

 "Leave wringing of your hands; peace, sit you down. "

His mother confesses her guilt. Hamlet is not appeased. He vilifies herhusband with increasing vehemence; the Ghost rises as if to protect thequeen. "Do not forget, " he cries, although the king's name was at thatmoment on Hamlet's lips in terms of bitterest contempt. But it wasunderstood between the two spirits that it was the queen's husband andnot his father's murderer that he was thus denouncing. After thedisappearance of the ghost, he turns again to his mother; and on leavingher almost reluctantly, without further punishment, asks pardon of hisown genius--"Forgive me this my virtue, " more authoritative to Hamletthan a legion of spirits. 

This scene is the spiritual climax of the play, and from it the wholetragedy directly proceeds. The death of Polonius leads on the one sideto the madness of Ophelia, on the other to the revenge of Laertes andthe final catastrophe. Hamlet's apathy at the death of Polonius is ofthe same character as his oblivion of the ghost's command, and has thesame origin. For there is no apathy like that of an over-masteringpassion, whether it be love or jealousy, or a new faith, or a terribledoubt. It draws away the life from other duties and interests, andleaves them pale and semi-vital. Men thus possessed acknowledge theduties they evade, let slip occasion, are "lapsed in time and passion, "and are surprised at their own oblivion. 

This happens again to Hamlet as he is leaving Denmark. His own inactionis flashed back upon him by the sight of the gallant array ofFortinbras, and his first words--

 "How all occasions do inform against me, "

disclose that the duty of revenge has its obligations and sanctions, notin the inward but the outward world; not in the genius of theman--secret, individual, detached--but in the outward mind of inheritedopinion and ancestral creed, that we share with others in unreflectingfellowship. The world has charge of it, and reflects it back upon himnew in the actor's tears, and now--

 "In this army of such mass and charge, Led by a delicate and tender prince. "

This speech must be read, like a Spartan despatch, on the [Greek:skutalê] or counterpart of Hamlet's personality. He begins, as after theplayer's recitation, with a confession, and ends with an excuse. He isstartled into an avowal, which he qualifies by a subtleafter-thought--"What is a man, " he cries, who acts as I have acted, whoallows

 "That capability and god-like reason, To fust in him unused?"

"A beast, no more. " But as he looks at Fortinbras and his soldiers, another thought strikes him. These men act because they do not pause tothink. I must have been thinking, _not too little, but too much_; andwith that he turns short round upon his first confession, escapes fromthe charge of "bestial oblivion, " and takes refuge in an imaginary"thinking too precisely on the event;" which indeed, as he remembers, had more than once prevented him taking his own life. But he condemnshimself without cause; he cannot now return to that earlier stage ofunreasoning activity in appointed paths, and the joy and grace ofunconscious obedience. 

When Hamlet returns from England, he takes Horatio apart to recount hisadventures and unfold the plot of the king; but before he utters a wordof this his settled mood is revealed to us in the graveyard scene. Hamlet, ever prone to belittle the world, is not loth to watch themaking of a grave. There is the limit and boundary of what can be doneor suffered; there the triumph is ended, and there the enmity is stayed. He advances step by step to look closely at the ruins of mortality; toslight the great names of kings and follow heroes to the dust. As hesees the skull tossed out of the grave, the king is already dead to him. "How the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jawbone, that did the first murder. This might be the pate of a politician, whichthis ass now o'erreaches; one that would circumvent God, might it not?"He is not satisfied till he takes the skull in his hand, and issarcastic on beauty and festive wit, and the base uses to which we maycome; when, from the other side, the procession of Ophelia advances. Thegrace and allurement of Ophelia had awakened in the imaginative Hamlet afeeling stronger and warmer indeed, but of the same relation to hiscapacity of loving as that of Romeo for Rosaline, and as easily lost inthe glow or shadow of a deeper passion. That it was without depth andsacredness is plain from his delighting to ridicule and torment herfather, and from his careless and equivocal jesting with her at theplay. But though not a deep experience, it was of a quality differentfrom that of other life. And the death of Ophelia had gathered into onethe records of the hours of love; the first and the last; the meetingsand the partings; the gifts, and flowers, and snatches of song. On thesetender memories the hollow clamour of Laertes breaks with a discord sointolerable that Hamlet, who had with his usual reserve received thenews of her death with the cold exclamation, "What! the fair Ophelia!"suddenly breaks into a fury and leaps into her grave. 

 * * * * *

In this study of Hamlet in relation to the ghost-story, we have seenthat the effect, both of the first recital and of its subsequentconfirmation, was to whet his mind against his mother; and that thepassages in which this is expressed are among the _final touches_ of themaster; that the deed of revenge is only flashed upon him from without;and that, in the intervals between such awakenings of memory, herelapses to the thought-sickness of the first soliloquy; that on theonly occasion when the bitterness of his sorrow leads him to meditateself-destruction, there is no question of the ghost, the murder, or theking; that the only ungovernable bit of fury is in the presence of hismother; and that from this scene the drama is developed, and the finalcatastrophe ensues. 

V. 

Supposing this "preoccupation" proved, what is the particular value andsignificance of the fact? Before we can answer this we must set thecharacter of Hamlet in this new light clearly before us. 

Shakespeare gives to him the rare nobility of feeling with the keennessof personal pleasure and pain, the presence or absence of moral beauty. He is one to whom public falsehood is private affliction, to whomgoodness in its purity, truth in its severity, honour in its brightness, are the only goods worth a man's possessing, and the rest but a dreamand the shadow of a dream. Hamlet bears his private griefs with proudcomposure. We have no lamentation on the death of his father, on thedefection of Ophelia, on his exclusion from the throne. Among the imagesof horror and distress that crowd upon his mind in his mother's closetthere is one on which he is silent then, and throughout the play, andthat is her heartless desertion of his cause, as natural successor tothe crown. To make it entirely clear that we have here no type of morbidweakness and excess, but the portrait of a representative man, we haveonly to look at the careful way in which all the other characters aretouched and modelled so as to allow and enhance Hamlet's superiority, This is true even of Horatio. We have already remarked that in theirscenes with the ghost the manhood of Hamlet is of a higher strain anddignity. And not only in resolution, but in that other manly virtue ofself-reliance, his superiority is incontestable. Horatio follows Hamletat a distance as Lucilius follows Brutus, content if from time to timehe may stand at his side. Whatever is Hamlet's mood he reflects it, forto him Hamlet is always great. Horatio never questions, presumes not togive advice, echoes the scorn or laughter of his friend, is equallycontemptuous of the king, and, as he never urges to action, is, if hisfriend is supposed to procrastinate, accomplice in his delay. Hamletdetaches himself from the world and follows his own bent; he will admitno guidance, and be subject to no dictation. He is not the man to behag-ridden like Macbeth, or humoured into remorseful deeds like Brutus. The strong dramatic feature of his character, the secret of hisattraction on the stage, is his pure and independent personality. Whohas a word of solace from him, but when does he claim it? Who leaves anymark or dint of intellectual impact on that firm and self-determinedmind? And if he is superior to Horatio, how much more to Laertes? HadShakespeare wished to exalt the quality of resolution at Hamlet'sexpense, he would not have chosen so ignoble a representative of it asthis man. A true son of Polonius, a prater of moral maxims, while he isall for Paris and its pleasures; violent, but weak; who, when he is toldof the tragic and untimely death of his sister, can find nothing betterto say than--

 "Too much of water, hast thou, dear Ophelia?"

who, like Aufidius, has the outward habit and encounter of honour, butis a facile tool of treacherous murder in the hands of the king. Comparethe conduct of the two when they are brought into collision, and thefinal impression they leave. The readiness with which Hamlet undertakesto fence for his uncle's wager is one of the most surprising strokes inthe play. What! with the foil in his hand, no plot, no project, not evena word, not a look between him and Horatio that the occasion might beimproved! What absolute freedom from the malice which in another mindis preparing his death. The treachery of Laertes is the more odious inthis, that the success of his plot depends on the generous confidence ofhis victim. Polonius is handled in the same way with special referenceto Hamlet. His thinking is marked by slowness and insincerity, and whenhe comes in contact with the rapid current of Hamlet's mind he isbenumbed; he can only mutter, "If this is madness, there is method init. " What little portable wisdom was given to him in the first Act issoon withdrawn--he stammers in his deceit, and the old indirectnesshaving no material of thought to work upon becomes a circumlocution oftruisms. As the play proceeds he is made, as if with a second intention, more and more the antithesis, as he is the antipathy, of the prince. Itis the careful portrait of what Hamlet would hate--a remnant of senilecraft in the method with folly in the matter--a shy look in the dull andglazing eye, that insults the honesty of Hamlet as much as theshrivelled meaning with its pompous phrase insults his intelligence. Sowith the other characters; they are all made to justify his demeanourtowards them. The queen is heard to confess her guilt, Ophelia is seento act as a decoy; his college friends attempt his death. 

In as far then as Hamlet is right in his verdicts, blameless in hisaims, lofty in his ideal, and just in his resentment, he is arepresentative man; and we have not the study of a special affliction, but the fundamental drama of the soul and the world. This, whatever wemay call it, was the work at which Shakespeare laboured so long, and forwhich he withdrew Hamlet from time to time for special study, everyfresh touch telling in this direction. 

VI. 

How far is such an interpretation consonant with the genius and methodof Shakespeare? Certainly I should hardly have found courage to addanother to the many studies of Hamlet had it not been for the hope ofbringing out a characteristic of our great national poet that is ratherunobtrusive than obscure. I mean a singular unworldliness of thought andfeeling; a cherished idealism; an inborn magnanimity. Not theunworldliness of the study and the cloister, or the other-worldliness ofsuch poets as Dante and Milton, but the unworldliness of a man of theworld, the idealism that is closely allied with humour. And it is inthis union and not elsewhere that the "breadth" of Shakespeare, of whichwe hear so much, is found. This unworldliness is elusive, ubiquitous, full of disguise. Now it is militant, and now observant; now it isfastidious in its scorn, and now it is piercing in its dissection; nowit is satire, and now it is melancholy. He gives the most knightlychivalry of friendship to a merchant, and the most exquisite fidelity ofservice to a fool, and makes the ingrained worldliness of Cleopatra diebefore her love. He not only scatters through his pages rebukes of thearrogance of power and the more pitiable pride of wealth, but makes hiskings deride their own ceremonies and mock their own state. Who has notobserved the easy and effortless way in which his heroes and heroinesmove from one station to the other, from authority to service like Kent, from obscurity to splendour like Perdita, or to the greenwood from thepalace like Rosalind. The change affects their happiness no more thanthe change of their position in the sky affects the brightness of thestars. It is all so truthful and clear that we grow more simple as weread. Lear utters but one cry of joy, and that is when he is entering aprison with Cordelia:

 "Come, let's away to prison! We two alone will sing like birds in a cage;"

while the Queen of France has just said:

 "For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down, Myself could else outfrown false fortune's frown. "

In these two lines the magnanimity of Shakespeare is pure, unveiled, ashe gives us the last words of his favourite heroine: we must read thembackwards and forwards to catch the portrait they enclose. We see theunconscious elevation of Cordelia's mind, not so much superior asinvulnerable to mortal ills; we see this dignity and lovely pride castdown by pity and love, and then in answer to Lear's troubled and anxiouslook we hear in measured and steadfast tones the reassurance of perfectpeace. 

Remark too Shakespeare's habit of looking upon the world as a masque orpageant, not to be treated with too much respectful anxiety as if itwere as real as ourselves. He who can give so perfectly the texture ofcommon life, the solidities of common sense, likes to wave his wand overthe domain of sturdy prose and incontrovertible custom, and to show howplastic it is, and how easily pierced, and how readily transformed. Hehas a malicious pleasure in confusing the boundaries of nature andfancy, and mocking the purblind understanding. In the "Midsummer Night'sDream" we have an ambiguous and bewildering light, with the horizonalways shifting, and the boundaries of fact and fable confused with aninseparable mingling of forms; both outwardly, as when Theseus entersthe forest on the skirts of the fairy crew; and inwardly in the memoriesof the lovers. And we are expressly told after the enchantment of the"Tempest" that this summary dealing with the solid world was not merelyby way of entertainment but was a presentation of truth. And Macbeth, after grasping all that life could offer of tangible reward or palpablepower, pronounces it

 "such stuff as dreams are made of. "

No doubt something will be said on the other side, of Shakespeare'sbroad and indulgent humanity, and of his toleration even of vice itselfwhen it is convivial and amusing. It should be remembered, however, thathis comedies while more realistic are not so real as his tragedies. Theyare, as he himself insists, entertainments; to which jovial sensuality, witty falsehood, and even hypocrisy when it is not morose are admitted, as diverting in their very aberration from the mean rule of life. Sothat a touch of rascality is a genuine element in comedy, as a touch ofdanger in sport, and the provocation of the moral sense is part of thefun. But they are all under guard. The moment they pass a certainboundary and break into reality, the moment that intemperance leads todisorder, and vice to suffering, as in real life, then suddenly Harryturns upon Falstaff, or Olivia on Sir Toby, and vice is called by itsright name. 

And as life awakens and reality enters, either the grace or thesentiment or the passion of unworldliness is more and more distinctlypresent. And in the tragedies even the pleasant vices are seen as partof a world-wide corruption that wrongs, debases, and betrays. Shakespeare has painted every phase of antagonism to the world, from thepensive aloofness of Antonio to the impassioned misanthropy of Timon. Every excited feeling emits light into the dark places of the earth, andevery suffering is a revelation of more than its own injury. It is as ifthe soul, fully aroused, became aware by its own light of the oppressionand injustice abroad upon the earth. 

But there is a more vague and general disaffection to the world than isthe outcome of any particular experience. It may be called a spiritualdiscontent which few have felt as a passion, but many have known as amood: when that average goodness of human nature which we have found socompanionable, and to which we have so pleasantly adapted ourselves, becomes "very tolerable and not to be endured;" when the world seems tobe made of our vices, and our virtues seem to be looking on, or if theyenter into the fray are too tame and conventional for the selfish fireand unscrupulous industry of their rivals; and when to our excitedsensibility there is a taint in the moral atmosphere, and we long toescape if only to breathe more freely. This is more than a mood withShakespeare, and is present in those slight but distinctive touches thatmark the unconscious intrusion of character in an artist's work; and isfrankly confessed in one of his Sonnets:---

 "Tired with all these; for restful death I cry; As to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing drest in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn..... Tired with all these, from, these would I be gone. "

We find, then, scattered through the dramas of Shakespeare adisaffection to the world as deep-grained as it is comprehensive; and wefind the various elements of it--the contempt of fortune, the idealvirtue, the disinterested passion, the mysticism, the fellowship withthe oppressed, the distaste of the world's enjoyment and the wearinessof its burden--concentrated in Hamlet for full and exhaustive study;thus presenting what I have called the interior or fundamental drama ofthe soul and the world. 

But the tragedy of "Hamlet" includes more than this. It is not merelythe doom of suffering on a soul above a certain strain, still less is itthe accidental death of a sluggard in revenge; it is the implication ofa noble mind in the intrigues and malignities of a world it hasrenounced. In vain Hamlet contracts his ambition till it is bounded by anutshell; he is ordered to strike for a throne. No abnegation clears himfrom entanglement. The world permits not his escape, but drags him backwith those crooked hands of which Dante speaks, which pierce while theyhold. This is the tragedy in all its fulness, the involution of theinward and outward drama to the immense advantage of both. For while thespiritual agony of Hamlet gives an incomparable dignity to theghost-story, yet by the very interruptions and checkings and crossingsof it through the accidents and oppositions of the plot, its physiognomyis more distinctly and delicately revealed. Instead of the majestic butmonotonous declamation of Timon, we have every variety of that ironicalhumour (indicating some yet unconquered province of the soul) thatguards and embalms the purer strength of feeling, keeps it airy andspiritual, and frees it from moan and heaviness. Here we have noinsistance on suffering, no literary heart-breaks, no dilettantepessimism; but those indefinable harmonies of freedom and law, of theascendency of the soul and the sovereignty of fate, of Nature and thespaces of the mind, that in the works of the great masters represent, ifthey do not explain, the mystery of life. 

The religion of Hamlet is that faith in God which survives after theextinction of the faith in man. Losing the light of human worth anddignity through which, alone the soul can reach to the idea of what istruly divine, and with it the link between earth and heaven, Hamlet'sreligion is reduced to its elements again; to the vague and fragmentaryhints of Nature, and instincts of the spirit; to intimations oflimitless power, of mysterious destiny, of a "something after death, "of a "divinity that shapes our ends;" and with these, gleams of atranscendent religion of humanity, for devotion to which he wassuffering; and on the other side, binding him to the stage-plot, relicsof childish superstition, half-beliefs, inherited opinions, "_our_circumstance and course of thought, " which he adopted when hepleased, --as, for instance, when he feared lest he should dismiss themurderer to heaven, or half-believed that his blameless father wastormented in sulphurous flames for having endured a horrible death. Buthowever obscure and indefinite the religion of Hamlet may be, and partlybecause it is so, and hence of universal experience, it adds reach anddepth to his struggle with the world. His soul flies out of bounds andaway in airy liberty on these excursions to the vast unknown, andescapes at last victorious with the light through the darkness ofconscious immortality, and the lamp in his hand of "the readiness isall. " There is always a certain vacuity in the positive or realistictreatment of passion, in which it is confined to the area of mortality, and after a sultry strife delivered over to the mercy of its enemies. But the world cannot so beset and beleaguer the soul as to block up theaccess and passage of invisible allies, or intercept the communicationsof infinite strength and infinite charity, or follow to its distanthaunts and inaccessible refuges the migrations of thought--

 "In the hoar deep to colonize. "

 FRANKLIN LEIFCHILD. 

FOOTNOTES:

[3] "To see Lear acted, to see an old man tottering about the stage witha walking-stick, turned out of doors by his daughters in a rainy night, has nothing in it but what is painful and disgusting. "--_Lamb's Essays. _

[4] "Shakspere: His Mind and Art, " p. 96. 

[5] "A Study of Shakespeare, " p. 166. 

PANISLAMISM AND THE CALIPHATE. [6]

I use the word "Panislamism, " simply because it is one of the politicalcatchwords of the day. The prefix _Pan_ is supposed to have some greatand terrible significance. It is not long since Europe exerted all herpower to save Islam from the jaws of Panslavism, but now that a _Pan_has been added to Islam, it has become in its turn the bugbear ofEurope. It is even supposed that England was fighting with this newmonster, when she put down the revolution in Egypt. England could neverhave so far forgotten her liberality as to take up arms against Islam, but Panislam must be crushed by a new crusade. Such is the wondrouspower of a prefix. So far as I can understand the mysterious force ofthis word, it is designed to express the idea that the scatteredfragments of the Mohammedan world have all rallied around the Caliph tojoin in a new attack upon Christendom, or that they are about to do so. There is just enough of truth in this idea to give it currency, and tomake it desirable that the whole truth should be known. Most of themistakes of Europe in dealing with the Ottoman empire, during thepresent century, have come from a misapprehension of the forces ofIslam, and the position, and influence of the Sultan of Turkey. There isdanger now of such a misapprehension as may lead to the most unfortunatecomplications. 

The first essential point, which must always be kept in mind by thosewho would understand the movements of the Mohammedan world, is the exactrelation of the Ottoman Sultans to the Caliphate. The word Caliph meansthe vicar or the successor of the Prophet. The origin and history of theCaliphate is well known, but it may be well to give a brief _résumé_ ofit here. During the life of the Prophet it was his custom to name aCaliph to act for him when he was absent from Medina. During his lastillness he named his father-in-law, Abou-Bekir, and after his death thisappointment was confirmed by election. Omar, Osman, and Ali weresuccessively chosen to this office, and these four are recognized by allorthodox Mohammedans as perfect Caliphs. The Persians and other Shiitesrecognize only Ali. It is said that the Prophet predicted that the trueCaliphate would continue only thirty years. His words are quoted: "TheCaliphate after me will be for thirty years. After this there will beonly powers established by force, usurpation, and tyranny. " The death ofAli and the usurpation of Mouawiye came just thirty years after thedeath of the Prophet, and this was the end of the true and perfectCaliphate. The sixty-eight imperfect Caliphs who followed were all ofthe family of the Prophet, although of different branches, but theyfulfilled the demand of the sacred law, that the Caliph must be of thefamily of Koreish, who was a direct descendant from Abraham. Mouawiyeand the Ommiades, fourteen in all, were of the same branch as Osman, thethird Caliph. The Abassides of Kufa, Bagdad, and Cairo, fifty-four inall, descended from Abas, the great-uncle of the Prophet. There weremany others who at different times usurped the name of Caliph, but theseseventy-two are all who are recognized as universal Caliphs. MohammedXII. , the last of these died in obscurity in Egypt in 1538. The power ofthe Caliphs gradually decayed, until for hundreds of years it was littlemore than nominal, and exclusively religious. 

The claim of the Ottoman Sultans to the Caliphate dates back to the timeof Sultan Selim I. This Sultan conquered Egypt and over-threw thedynasty of the Mamelukes. He found at Cairo the Caliph Mohammed XII. , and brought him as a prisoner to Constantinople. He was kept at thefortress of the Seven Towers for several years, and then sent back toEgypt with a small pension. While Selim was in Cairo, the Shereeff ofMecca presented to him the keys of the holy cities, and accepted him astheir protector. In 1517 Mohammed XII. Also made over to him all hisright and title to the Caliphate. This involuntary cession, and thevoluntary homage of the Shereeff of Mecca are the only titles possessedby the Ottoman Sultans to the Caliphate, which, according to the word ofthe Prophet himself, must always remain in his own family. If theOmmiades and the Abassides were imperfect Caliphs, it is plain that theOttoman Sultans must be doubly imperfect. It was easy, however, for anall-powerful Sultan to obtain an opinion from the Ulema that his claimwas well-founded; and it has been very generally recognized by orthodoxMohammedans, in spite of its essential weakness. When the time comes, however, that the Ottoman Sultans are no longer powerful, it will bestill more easy to obtain an opinion that the Shereeff of Mecca, who isof the family of the Prophet, is the true Caliph. 

The Ottoman Sultans have also assumed the other and more generally usedtitle of _Imam-ul-Mussilmin_, which may be roughly translated GrandPontiff of all the Moslems, although, strictly speaking, the functionsof an Imam are not priestly. This title is based upon an article of theMohammedan faith which says--"The Mussulmans ought to be governed by anImam, who has the right and authority to secure obedience to the law, todefend the frontiers, to raise armies, to collect tithes, to put downrebels, to celebrate public prayers on Fridays, and at Beiram, " &c. Thisarticle of faith is based upon the words of the Prophet--"He who dieswithout recognizing the authority of the Imam of his time, is judged tohave died in ignorance and infidelity. "

The law goes on to say--"All Moslems ought to be governed by one Imam. His authority is absolute, and embraces everything. All are bound tosubmit to him. No country can render submission to any other. "

Under this law the Ottoman Sultans claim absolute and unquestioningobedience from all Moslems throughout the world; but their right to thistitle rests upon the same foundation as that upon which is based thetitle of Caliph. The Prophet himself said, and the accepted law repeats, that the Imam-ul-Mussilmin must be of the family of Koreish. The OttomanSultans belong not only to a different family, but to a different race. 

With this evident weakness in their title to the Caliphate, and theaccompanying rank of universal Imam, it is a question of interest onwhat grounds the doctors of Mohammedan law have justified their claims, and how far these have been recognized. 

In addition to the rights said to have been conferred by the CaliphMohammed XII. And by the Shereef of Mecca upon Sultan Selim I. , and byhim transmitted to his posterity, the Mohammedan doctors make use of avery different argument. They say--

 "The rights of the house of Othman are based upon its power and success, for one of the most ancient canonical books declares that the authority of a prince who has usurped the Caliphate by force and violence, ought not the less to be considered legitimate, because, since the end of the perfect Caliphate, the sovereign power is held to reside in the person of him who is the strongest, who is the actual ruler, and whose right to command rests upon the power of his armies. "

This statement presents the real basis of the claims of the Sultans tothe Caliphate. It is the right of the strongest. Any man who disputesit, does so at his peril; and, since 1517, the Ottoman Sultans have beenable to command the submission of the Mohammedan world. Their title hasnot been seriously disputed. 

But the title has this weak point in it. It is good only so long as theSultan is strong enough to maintain it. It has not destroyed the rightsof the family of Koreish. It only holds them in abeyance, until someone of that family is strong enough to put an end to the Turkishusurpation. The power of the Sultan does not depend upon the title, butthe title depends upon his power. This is a point the politicalimportance of which should never be overlooked. 

We come now to our second question. How far is the claim of the OttomanSultans to the Caliphate now recognized in the Mohammedan world? Exceptwith the Shiites, who have never acknowledged it, there is no openrebellion against it. But the decay of the Ottoman Empire during thelast hundred years has been obvious to all the world. Not only has itbeen gradually dismembered, not only have many of its Mohammedansubjects been brought under the dominion of Christian Powers, and manyof its Christian subjects set free, not only have its Africanpossessions become practically independent, except Tripoli, but thehouse of Othman exists to-day, only because Christian Europe interferedto defend it against its own Mohammedan subjects. The house of MohammedAli would otherwise have taken its place. Again and again have theSultans shown their inability to defend the frontiers of Islam. Sincethe advent of the present Sultan, the process of dismemberment has goneon more rapidly than ever. 

The influence of these facts upon the Mohammedan world has been verymarked. I cannot speak from personal knowledge of the people of Indiaand Central Asia, but from the best information that I can obtain, Iconclude that while they have lost none of their interest in Islam, while they are still interested in the fate of their Turkish brethren, they would not lift a finger to maintain the right of the Sultan to theCaliphate against any claimant of the family of the Prophet. The feelingof the Arabic-speaking Mohammedans is well known. Islam is an Arabreligion; the Prophet was an Arab; the Caliph should be an Arab. TheOttoman Sultans are barbarian usurpers, who have taken and hold theCaliphate by force. The Arabs have been ready for open revolt for years, and have only waited for a leader of the house of the Prophet. Theirnatural leader would be the Shereef of Mecca; and it is understood thatthe Shereef who has just been deposed by the Sultan, as well as hispredecessor who was mysteriously assassinated, was on the point ofdeclaring himself Caliph. The new Shereef is a young man of the samefamily. 

So far as the Turkish, Circassian, and Slavic Mohammedans are concerned, their interests are bound up with those of the Sultan. They do notdistinguish between the Caliphate and the Sultanat. Their ruler is theImam-ul-Mussilmin, their law is the Sheraat, their country is theDar-Islam; and when they are fighting for their Sultan they are fightingfor their faith. They know nothing of any other possible Caliph. But ifa new Caliph should appear at Mecca, and declare the Sultan a usurperand a Kaffir, it is very doubtful whether they would stand by theSultan. They would not know what to do. 

Another element enters just now into the question of the Caliphate, ofwhich so much has been written of late that it is only necessary tomention it here. The Mohammedan world is looking for the coming of theMehdy. The time appointed by many traditions for his appearance hasalready come, the year of the Hedjira 1300. Other traditions, however, fix no definite time--they only say "towards the end of the world, " andmany impostors have already appeared at different times and placesclaiming to be the Mehdy. According to Shiite tradition, it is thetwelfth Imam of the race of Ali who is to appear. At the age of twelvehe was lost in a cave, where he still lives, awaiting his time. According to the Sunnis, the _Mehdy_ is to come from Heaven with 360celestial spirits, to purify Islam and convert the world. He will be aperfect Caliph, and will rule over all nations. 

It is impossible for any Christian to speak with absolute certainty ofthe real feeling of Mohammedans; but it is evident that this expectedMehdy is talked of by Mohammedans everywhere, and that there is more orless faith in his speedy appearance. No one who anticipates his coming, can have any interest in the claims of the Sultan to be the Caliph. Should any one appear to fulfil the demands of the tradition, and meetwith success in rousing any part of the Mohammedan world, the excitementwould become intense, especially in Africa and Arabia. The claims of theSultan would be repudiated at once. Still I think it probable that toomuch has been made of this Mehdy in Europe. I do not think that thePachas of Constantinople have any more faith in his coming than Mr. Herbert Spencer has in the second coming of Christ. They only fear thatsome impostor may take advantage of the tradition to create division inthe empire. This is the real danger. 

It has been evident for many years that the Sultans have felt that theirinfluence in the Mohammedan world was declining. They have seen thatbeyond their own dominions the Caliph has no real authority; thatwhatever influence they have depends upon the strength of their ownempire. Abd-ul-Medjid and Abd-ul-Aziz seem to have had a pretty clearconception of their weakness, and of the necessity of restoring thevitality of the Ottoman empire, by the introduction of radical reforms. There is no reason to suppose that the Hatt-i-houmayoun and the otherinnumerable Hatts issued by these Sultans, were all intended simply toblind the eyes of Europe. None knew better than they that the empiremust be reformed or lost. But they were Caliphs as well as Sultans, andwhat they would do as Sultans they could not do as Caliphs. The verynature of their claims to the Caliphate made them more timid. They couldnot execute the reforms which they promised, without encountering theopposition of the whole body of the Ulema, the most powerful and thebest organized force in the empire. If they could have saved theirempire by resigning the Caliphate, they might possibly have been willingto do it; but they were made to believe that in surrendering theCaliphate they would lose the support of the only part of the nationupon which they could fully depend. So they hesitated, promising muchand doing little, raising hopes on one side which could never beforgotten, and raising fears on the other which they could not allay;seeing clearly the need of reform, but seeing no way in which toaccomplish it. They could decide upon nothing, and drifted on untilAbd-ul-Aziz was deposed and assassinated by his own ministers, and theempire was on the verge of ruin. 

The next Sultan was overwhelmed by the burdens which fell upon him, andin a few months was deposed as a lunatic. Sultan Hamid came to thethrone under these trying circumstances, and it seemed for a time thathe might be the last of the Sultans. He was but little known, as he hadbeen forced to live in retirement, and it was supposed that he wouldfollow meekly in the steps of his predecessors; but it very soon becameevident to those about him that he had a mind and a will of hisown--more than this, that he had a policy which he was determined tocarry out. A Sultan with a fixed policy was a new thing, and to this dayEurope is somewhat sceptical about it; but it very soon became apparentto close observers at Constantinople. Sultan Hamid was determined to befirst of all the Caliph, the Imam-ul-Mussilmin, and to sacrifice allother interests to this. His education had been exclusively religious, and in his retirement he had lived a serious life, associating much withthe Ulema, who, no doubt, pointed out to him the vacillating policy ofhis predecessors, and the danger that there was that the Caliphate andthe empire would be lost together. He determined to strengthen hisempire by restoring the influence of the Caliphate, and rallying theMohammedan world once more around the throne of Othman. Judged from aEuropean standpoint, this policy is at once reactionary and suicidal. Itignores the fact that the Ottoman empire is dependent for its existenceupon the good-will of Europe; that it has measured its strength with asingle Christian Power, and been utterly crushed in a year. It ignoresthe principle that a government can never be strong abroad which is weakat home. It ignores the history of the last hundred years. It may bedoubted whether it is a policy which can be justified from thestandpoint of Islam. Turkey is the last surviving Mohammedan Power ofany importance. Its influence depends upon its strength, and itsstrength upon the prosperity of its people, and this upon a wise andenlightened administration of the government. It would seem that thebest thing the Sultan could have done for Islam, would have been not toexcite the fears of Europe by the phantom of a Panislamic league, but tohave devoted all his energies to the reformation of his government. 

But Sultan Hamid chose the path of Faith rather than of Reason, and, however we may think the choice unwise, we are bound to treat it withrespect. It is easy to say that it was a mere question of policy, andvery bad policy; it certainly was, but I think we have good reason tobelieve that the Sultan was actuated by religious rather than politicalmotives, that he is a sincere and honest Moslem, and feels that it isbetter to trust in God than in the Giaour. I have a sincere respect andno little admiration for Sultan Hamid. Had he been less a Caliph andmore a Sultan, with his courage, industry, and pertinacity, he mighthave done for Turkey what he has failed to do for Islam. He might haverevived and consolidated the empire. It is possible that he may do ityet, and should he attempt it he will have the sympathy of the world. 

But thus far, having transferred the seat of government from the Porteto the Palace, having secured a declaration from the Ulema that his willis the highest law, and that as Caliph he needs no advice, he hassought, first of all, to make his influence felt in every part of theMohammedan world, to revive the spirit of Islam, and to unite it inopposition to all European and Christian influences. Utterly unable toresist Europe by force of arms, he has sought to outwit her by diplomacyand finesse. I know of nothing more remarkable in the history of Turkeythan the skill with which he made a tool of Sir Henry Layard. Sir Henrycould not be bought; but he could be flattered and blinded by suchattentions as no Ottoman Sultan ever bestowed upon any Ambassadorbefore; and to accomplish this object, the Sultan did not hesitate toignore all Mohammedan ideas of propriety. His demonstrations offriendship for Germany is another illustration of his diplomatic skill. But while ready to yield any point of etiquette to accomplish his ends, he has resisted to the last every attempt to induce him to do anythingto repress or punish any development of Moslem fanaticism. All Europecombined could not force him to punish the murderer of ColonelCoumaroff, the secretary of the Russian Embassy, who was shot down inthe street like a dog by a servant of the Palace; nor, so far as I know, has he ever suffered a Moslem to be punished for murdering a Christian. 

His agents have done their best to rouse the Mohammedans of India andCentral Asia. He has armed the tribes of Northern Africa against France, and encouraged them to resist to the end. He has given new life toMohammedan fanaticism in Turkey. The change from the days of Abd-ul-Azizis very marked. The counsellors of the Sultan are no longer theMinisters, but the astrologers, eunuchs, and holy men of the Palace. NoMussulman could now change his faith in Constantinople without losinghis life. Firmans can no longer be obtained for Christian churches, andit is extremely difficult to obtain permission to print a Christianbook, even in a Christian language. The greatest care is taken to seizebooks of every description in the Custom House. It is not long since theLife of Mr. Gladstone was seized as a forbidden book. It is a curiousfact in this connection that the fanaticism of the Government is far inadvance of the fanaticism of the people. There is no fear of the people, except as they are encouraged and pushed forward by those in authority. If left to themselves, Turks and Christians would have no difficulty inliving together amicably. 

The relation of the Sultan to the rebellion in Egypt is not perfectlyclear, and probably never will be. In one sense he was no doubt thecause of it. It was a direct result of the agitation which his policyhad roused. But it was not intended by Arabi to strengthen the power ofa Turkish Caliph. It was originally anti-Turkish, and looked to therevival of the Arab Caliphate, as well as to the personal advantage ofArabi himself. The Sultan could not oppose it without exciting theenmity of those whom he most wished to conciliate, so he sought tocontrol it and turn it to his own advantage. He gave Arabi all possibleaid and support. There is no reason to suppose that Arabi and hisfriends were deceived by this; but it was for their interest to avoid aconflict with the Sultan as long as possible, and to get what aid fromhim they could. But for the intervention of England, Arabi would nodoubt have won the game against the Turk. He might even have caused thedownfall of the Sultan; for it is a well-known fact that so great wasthe enthusiasm of the Moslems in Syria and Arabia for Arabi, that theywere with difficulty restrained by the Turkish authorities from breakingout into open rebellion. This spirit had been fostered by the Sultan;but it naturally turned, not to the Turkish Caliph, but to thesuccessful Arab adventurer. Even in Asia Minor and Constantinople theenthusiasm for Arabi was universal, and had he been allowed to triumphunmolested, it seems probable the Sultan would have been forced eitherto unite with him in a crusade against Christendom, or to send an armyto put him down. Either of these courses would have been fatal; for noMoslem army would have fought against Arabi under such circumstances, and as against Europe the Sultan could have accomplished nothing. 

It is no doubt perfectly legitimate for a Caliph, especially for onewhose title depends upon the strength of his sword, to stir up theenthusiasm of his people and attract their attention to himself as theirleader. He cannot be blamed for improving every occasion to defend theirrights and interfere in their behalf. If he is strong enough to do so, it is no doubt in full accord with the example and teaching of theProphet that he should lead them against the infidels. It is not strangethat a man of faith should be so dazzled by the possibility of such acrusade as to forget his own weakness. As he sits in his palaceto-night, [7] and hears the roar of the guns announcing the greatfestival of Courban Beiram, and thinks that more than two hundredmillions of the faithful are uniting with him in the sacrifice, andconfessing their faith in the Prophet of whom he claims to be thesuccessor and representative, it will be strange if he does not dream ofwhat might be if he could but rally them round his throne; strange if hedoes not catch something of the inspiration of the Prophet himself, who, with God on his side, dared alone to face all Mecca, and with a fewhalf-naked Arabs to brave the world. There is nothing in the Palaceunfavourable to such a dream as this, and there will be nothing in thepomp and ceremony of the homage to be paid to him to-morrow morning torecall him from it. What a contrast it will be to come back from such adream of universal dominion, and the triumph of the true faith, to thediscussion of the sixty-first Article of the Treaty of Berlin and therights of the Armenians! It is perfectly legitimate for a Caliph to havesuch dreams, and perfectly natural for him to prefer to try to realizethem, rather than to give his attention to the reform of his empire; butwithout blaming the Caliph we may well doubt whether it is altogetherwise for the Sultan of Turkey to indulge in such dreams. 

I believe that it would be better not only for Turkey but for Islamalso, if the Sultan would give up his doubtful title to the Caliphate, and pass it over to the descendant of the Prophet who is Shereef ofMecca. As for Turkey, this is the only hope of the empire; and theexperience of the Pope of Rome has made it clear that the loss oftemporal power tends rather to strengthen than to weaken a greatreligious organization. There is no inclination in any part of the worldto persecute Mohammedans, or interfere in any way with their faith. Onlya very small minority of them are under the government of the Sultan, and those who are not enjoy as much religious liberty as those who are. This is not from fear of the Sultan, but it is in accord with the spiritof the age, and the manifest interest of other Governments. As a Caliphcannot by any possibility restore the strength of the Ottoman empire, soa Sultan of Turkey cannot be the spiritual leader of millions who arenot in any way under his control. I see no reason to suppose that thetransfer of the Caliph to Mecca would in any way weaken the faith ofMoslems or diminish their zeal. Mohammedans in India and in Russia showno more inclination to abandon their faith than those who reside atConstantinople under the shadow of the Caliph; on the contrary, there ismore unbelief in Constantinople than there. What is more, there is everyreason to believe that such a transfer would gratify the great majorityof Mohammedans, probably a majority of those living in the TurkishEmpire, certainly all the Arabic-speaking population. In one way oranother this change is sure to come, however it may be resisted by theSultan; the very effort that he has made to arouse the spirit of Islamhas made it more apparent than before that he is really powerless todefend any Mohammedan country against aggression. He could do nothingfor Tunis against France. He could do nothing for Arabi against England. The very encouragement that he gave in these cases was an injury tothem. The Arabs are all ready to assert their rights to the Caliphateand defend them against the Sultan. If he does not surrender the titlevoluntarily, sooner or later they will take it by force, and that partof the empire along with it. 

The Sultan complains of the interference of Europe in the affairs of hisempire; but, in fact, he owes not only his throne, but his continuedpossession of the Caliphate, to their protection. Let it be known inMecca to-day that Europe would favour such a change and encourage aninsurrection in Syria and Arabia, and the new Shereef of Mecca wouldcelebrate the Courban Beiram as Caliph amidst such enthusiasm as has notbeen known there for a hundred years. 

In spite of all this, however, in spite of the imperfection of histitle, and the coolness or discontent of Mohammedans throughout theworld, in spite of the growing weakness of the empire and his failure todefend those whom he has encouraged to resist Europe, it is not probablethat Sultan Hamid will voluntarily surrender the Caliphate. Abd-ul-Azizmight have done it to save his empire, but Sultan Hamid is too religiousa man; he values his title of Imam-ul-Mussilmin too highly to give it upwithout a struggle. It is safe to conclude that he will cling to ituntil it is taken by force by a stronger man. 

I have already mentioned incidentally the relation of Europe to theCaliphate. England and France are most directly interested in thisquestion, and hitherto their policy has been to sustain the claims ofthe Sultans. They seem to be quite as anxious to maintain the Caliphateof Constantinople as the Sultans themselves, and its continuance hasbeen due in great measure to their protection. As the interest of Francein this question is only secondary, I will confine myself to the policyof England. It is not strange that England, with her Indian Empire and40, 000, 000 Mohammedan subjects, should be deeply interested in thequestion of the Caliphate. It must be a question of vital importance toher whether it is better for the peace of India to have the Caliphate inthe hands of a temporal sovereign at Constantinople or of a Shereef ofMecca in Arabia. So long as she was in close alliance with the Sultan, and her influence at Constantinople was supreme, there could not be anydoubt on this subject, for a Caliph at Mecca would be practically beyondher reach; but since the Crimean war English influence has seldom beenparamount at Constantinople. Still, English statesmen have probablyreasoned that, even if he were decidedly unfriendly, it was better tohave a Caliph who had something to lose, and who, on occasion, could bereached by a British fleet and bombarded in his palace, than one in thedeserts of Arabia, who could not be reached by pressure of any kind, either diplomatic or military, who might proclaim a holy war withoutfear of being called to account for it. There is always a greatpractical advantage in dealing with a responsible person. Then, again, the late Sultans have manifested no inclination to rouse the fanaticismof Mohammedans against Christendom. They have been only anxious thatChristendom should forget them, and leave them to manage their ownaffairs in their own way. Under these circumstances no English interesthas demanded the consideration of the question of the Caliphate. It is areligious question which no Christian Government could wish to take upunless forced to do so. Whatever the Turks may believe, it is certainthat no European Power has any inclination to enter upon a crusadeagainst the Mohammedan religion. Even the Pope of Rome, who in formerdays decreed crusades against the Moslem, is now on terms of the mostfriendly intimacy with the Caliph. England not only carefully protectsthe rights of Mohammedans in India, but she has used all her influencefor years to strengthen the Ottoman Empire and discourage all agitationagainst the Caliphate of the Sultan. 

Such has been the policy of the past. But circumstances have changed, and long-cherished hopes have been disappointed. The effort to reformand strengthen the Turkish empire has failed chiefly because the Sultanshave been unwilling or unable to abandon the strictly religiousconstitution of the Government, and to distinguish between their dutiesas Caliphs, and their duties as civil rulers over a mixed population ofvarious sects. This failure has led to most unhappy complications inEurope, to the dismemberment of European Turkey, and to a greatdevelopment of the influence of Russia, the Power most unfriendly to theexistence of the Turkish Empire. It is now clear to all the world thatTurkey cannot be reformed by a Caliph. In addition to this, the presentSultan, departing from the prudent course of his predecessors, hasundertaken to rouse the hostility of Islam against Christendom, and toencourage fanatical outbreaks, not only in Africa, but in Asia as well. As Caliph he is no longer the friendly ally of the Christian Powers, but, as far as he dares, is acting against them. Under these changedcircumstances the question must arise whether it is any longer for theinterest of England to defend the Caliphate of Constantinople. It is nota question of deposing one Caliph and setting up another. This is notthe work of a Christian Power. It is for Mohammedans to settle thisquestion among themselves. If they prefer to continue to recognize theSultan as Caliph, they should be free to do so. But the policy ofEngland has not hitherto been one of neutrality. It has been the activesupport of the Sultan. The question now is whether this support shouldnot be withdrawn, and the Arabs made to understand that if they preferan Arab Caliph at Mecca, England will not interfere to prevent it. 

This is a very serious question, and the plan is open to the objectionalready suggested of the inaccessibility of Mecca. It is also to beconsidered that the Arabs are more fanatical and more easily excitedthan the Turks. But, on the other hand, it may be doubted whether theinfluence of the Shereef of Mecca would be greatly increased by hisassuming the title of Caliph. It would not be recognized by the Turks, and Constantinople would be even more opposed to Mecca than it is now. The nature of the new Caliph's influence would be the same that it isnow as Shereef of Mecca--a purely moral influence. 

Another thing to be considered is the fact that this is only a questionof time. Sooner or later this change is sure to come. As the power ofthe Sultan continues to decline, he will be less and less able to resistthe progress of this Arab movement. It is not easy to see exactly whatEngland will gain by postponing this change. Certainly not thefriendship of the Arabs. I cannot speak with authority of the feeling inIndia; but it is understood that Indian Mohammedans sympathize with theArabs rather than the Turks. I cannot presume to give a decided opinionon this question; but the new responsibilities assumed by the BritishGovernment in Egypt, make it one of immediate practical importance. Arethe real interests of England with the Turk or the Arab?

FOOTNOTES:

[6] We have received this article from a valued correspondent, whosename, for obvious reasons, is not given. --ED. 

[7] The eve of Courban Beiram. 

THE BOLLANDISTS:

THE LITERARY HISTORY OF A MAGNUM OPUS. 

The majority of educated people have, from time to time, in the courseof their historical reading, come across some mention of the "ActaSanctorum, " or "Lives of the Saints;" while but few know anything as tothe contents, or authorship, or history of that work. Yet it is a verygreat, nay a stupendous monument of what human industry, steadilydirected for ages towards one point, can effect. Industry, directed forages, I have said--an expression, which to some must seem almost like amisprint, but which is quite justified by facts, since the first volumeissued by the company of the Bollandists, is dated Antwerp, 1643; andthe last, Paris, A. D. 1875. Two hundred and forty years have thuselapsed, and yet the work is not concluded. Indeed, as it has takenwell-nigh two centuries and a half to narrate the lives of the Saintscommemorated in the first ten months of the year, it may easily happenthat the bones of the present generation will all be mingled with thedust, before those Saints be reached who are celebrated on the 31st ofDecember. Some indeed--prejudiced by the very name "Acta Sanctorum"--maybe inclined to turn away, with a contempt bred of ignorance, from thewhole subject. But if it were only as a mental and intellectual tonicthe contemplation of these sixty stately folios, embracing about athousand pages each, would be a most healthy exercise for the men ofthis age. This is the halcyon period of primers, introductions, handbooks, manuals. "Knowledge made Easy" is the cry on every side. Wetake our mental pabulum just as we take Liebig's essence of beef, in avery concentrated form, or as hom[oe]opathists imbibe their medicine, inthe shape of globules. I do not desire, however, to say one word againstsuch publications. The great scholars of the seventeenth century, theBollandists, Casaubon, Fabricius, Valesius Baluze, D'Achery, Mabillon, Combefis, Vossius, Canisius, shut up their learning in immense folios, which failed to reach the masses as our primers and handbooks do, penetrating the darkness and diffusing knowledge in regions inaccessibleto their more ponderous brethren. But at the same time their majestictomes stand as everlasting protests on behalf of real and learnedinquiry, of accurate, painstaking, and often most critical research intothe sources whence history, if worth anything, must be drawn. 

I propose in this paper to give an account of the origin, progress, contents, and value of the work of the Bollandists, regarded as thevastest repertory of original material for the history of mediævaltimes. This immense series is popularly known either as the "ActaSanctorum" or the Bollandists. The former is the proper designation. Thelatter, however, will suit best as the peg on which we shall hang ournarrative. John Bolland, or Joannes Bollandus as it is in Latin, was thename of the founder of a Company which, more fortunate than mostliterary clubs, has lasted well-nigh three centuries. To him must beascribed the honour of initiating the work, drawing the lines and layingthe foundations of a building which has not yet been completed. Thatwork was one often contemplated but never undertaken on the sameexhaustive principles. Clement, the reputed disciple of the ApostlesPeter and Paul, is reported--in the "Liber Pontificalis" or "Lives ofthe Popes;" dating from the early years of the sixth century--to havemade provision for preserving the "Acts of the Martyrs. " Apocryphal asthis account seems, yet the honest reader of Eusebius must confess thatthe idea was no novel one in the second century, as is manifest from thewell-known letter narrating the sufferings of the martyrs of Lyons andVienne. Space would now fail us to trace the development of hagiographyin the Church. Let it suffice to say that century after century, as itslowly rolled by, contributed its quota both in east and west. In theeast even an emperor, Basil, gave his name to a Greek martyrology; whilein both west and east the writings of Metaphrastes, Mombritius, Surius, Lipomanus, and Baronius, embalmed abundant legends in many a portlyvolume. Still the mind of a certain Heribert Rosweid, a professor atDouai, a Jesuit and an enthusiastic antiquarian, was not satisfied. Rosweid was a typical instance of those Jesuits, learned and devout, whoat a great crisis in the battle restored the fallen fortunes of theChurch of Rome. As the original idea of the "Acta Sanctorum" is due tohim, we may be pardoned in giving a brief sketch of his career, thoughhe was not in strictness a member of the Bollandist Company. 

Rosweid was born at Utrecht, in 1569, and entered the Society of Jesusin 1589, the year when all Europe, and the world at large, was ringingwith the defeat of the Armada and the triumph of Protestantism. Hestudied and taught first at Douai and then at Antwerp, where, also afterthe manner of the Jesuits, he entered upon active pastoral work, inwhich he caught a contagious fever, of which he died A. D. 1629. Hisliterary life was very active, and very fruitful in such literature asdelighted that age. Thus he produced editions of various martyrologies, the modern Roman, the ancient Roman, and that of Ado; he discussed thequestion of keeping faith with heretics; took an active share in theeverlasting controversy concerning the "Imitatio Christi, " wherein heespoused the side of A-Kempis and the Augustinians, as against Gersonand the Benedictines; published the lives of the Eastern Ascetics, whowere the founders of modern monasticism; debated with Isaac Casaubonconcerning Baronius; and published, in 1607, the "Lives of the BelgicSaints, " where we find the first sketch or general plan of the "ActaSanctorum. " The idea of this great work suggested itself to Rosweidwhile living at Douai, where he used to employ his leisure time in thelibraries of the neighbouring Benedictine monasteries, in search ofmanuscripts bearing on the lives of the Saints. It was an age ofcriticism, and he doubtless felt dissatisfied with all existingcompilations, content as they were to repeat, parrot-like and withoutany examination, the legends of earlier ages. It was an age of research, too--more fruitful in some respects than those which have followed--andhe felt that an immense mass of original material had never yet beenutilized. It was at this period of his life he produced the work abovementioned, which we have briefly named the "Lives of the Belgic Saints, "but the full title of which is, "Fasti Sanctorum quorum Vitæ in BelgicisBibliothecis Manuscriptæ. " He intended it as a specimen of a greater andmore comprehensive work, embracing the lives of all the Saints known tothe Church throughout the world. He proposed that it should embracesixteen volumes, divided in the following manner:--The first volumedealing with the life of Christ and the great feasts; the second withthe life of the Blessed Virgin and her feasts; the third to thesixteenth with the lives of the Saints according to the days of themonth, together with no less than thirteen distinct indexes, biographical, historical, controversial, geographical, and moral; sothat the reader might not have any ground for the complaint so oftenbrought against modern German scholars, that they afford no apparatus tohelp the busy student when consulting their works. Rosweid's idea as tothe manner in which those volumes should be compiled was no lessoriginal. He proposed first of all to bring together all the lives ofSaints that had been ever published by previous hagiographers; which hewould then compare with ancient manuscripts, as he was convinced thatconsiderable interpolation had been made in the narratives. In addition, he desired to seek in all directions for new materials; and toillustrate all the lives hitherto published or unpublished, byexplaining obscurities, reconciling difficulties, and shedding upontheir darker details the light of a more modern criticism. Rosweid'sfame was European in the first quarter of the seventeenth century; andhis proposal attracted the widest attention. To the best judges itseemed utterly impracticable. Cardinal Bellarmine heard of it, andproved his keenness and skill in literary criticism by asking what agethe man was who proposed such an undertaking. When informed that he wasabout forty, "Ask him, " said the learned Cardinal, "whether he hasdiscovered that he will live two hundred years; for within no smallerspace can such a work be worthily performed by one man, "--an unconsciousprophecy, which has found in fact a most ample fulfilment; for deathsnatched away Rosweid before he could do more towards his greatundertaking than accumulate much precious material; while more than twohundred years have elapsed, and yet the work is not completed. 

After the death of Rosweid, the Society of Jesus, which now regarded theundertaking as a corporate one, entrusted its continuation to Bollandus. He was thirty-three years of age, and had distinguished himself in everybranch of the Society's activity as a teacher, a divine, a scholar, andan orator. In this last capacity, indeed, it was his duty to addressLatin sermons to the aristocracy of Antwerp, a fact which betokens amuch more learned audience than now falls to any preacher's lot. He wasa wise director of conscience too, a sphere of duty in which the Jesuitshave always delighted. A story is told illustrating his skill in thisdirection. One of the highest magistrates of the city, being suddenlyseized with a fatal illness, despatched a messenger for Bollandus, whoat once responded to the call, only however to find the sick man indeepest trouble, on account of the sternness with which he had exercisedhis judicial functions. He acknowledged that he had often been the meansof inflicting capital punishment when the other judges would have passeda milder sentence in the belief that he was rescuing the condemned fromgreater crimes, which they would inevitably commit, and securing thesalvation of their souls through the repentance to which their ghostlyadviser would lead them prior to their execution. Bollandus at onceperceived that he had to deal with the over-scrupulous conscience of onewho had striven, according to his light, to do his duty. He thereforeproduced his breviary, and proceeded to read and expound the hundred andfirst psalm, "I will sing of mercy and judgment;" making such a verypertinent application of it to the magistrate's case, as led him to cryout with tears, "What comfort thou hast brought me, Father! now I diehappy. " A consideration of these numerous and apparently inconsistentengagements may not be without some practical use in this age. Lookingat the varied occupations of Bollandus and his fellows, and at themassive works which they at the same time produced, who can help smilingat the outcry which the advocates for the endowment of research, as theystyle themselves, raised some time ago against the simple proposal ofthe Oxford University Commission, that well-endowed professors shoulddeliver some lectures on their own special subjects? Such a practice, they maintained, would utterly distract the mind from all originalinvestigation of the sources. Such certainly was not the case with theBollandists, who yet could make time carefully--far more carefully thanmost modern historians--to investigate the sources of European history. But then the Bollandists were real students, and had neither lawn tennisnor politics to divert them from their chosen career. 

Bollandus again is a healthy study for us moderns in the triumphexhibited by him of mind over matter, of the ardent student overphysical difficulties. His rooms were no pleasant College chambers, lofty, commodious, and well-ventilated; on the contrary the apartmentswhere the volumes commemorating the saints of January saw the light weretwo small dark chambers next the roof, exposed alike to the heat ofsummer and the cold of winter, in the Jesuit House at Antwerp. In themwere heaped up, for such is the expression of his biographer, thedocuments accumulated by his Society during forty years. How vast theirnumber must have been is manifest from this one fact that Bollanduspossessed upwards of four hundred distinct Lives of Saints, and morethan two hundred histories of cities, bishoprics, and monasteries in theItalian language alone, whence our readers may judge of the size of theentire collection which dealt with the saints and martyrs of China, Japan, and Peru, as well as those of Greece and Home. 

Bollandus was summoned to his life's work in 1629. He at once enteredupon a vigorous pursuit of fresh manuscripts in every quarter of theglobe, wherein he was mightily assisted by the organization of theJesuit Society, and by the liberal assistance bestowed upon hisundertaking by successive abbots of the great Benedictine Monastery ofLiessies, near Cambray, specially by Antonius Winghius, the friend andpatron, first of Rosweid, and then of Bollandus. Indeed, it was theexistence and rich endowments of those great monasteries which explainsthe publication of such immense works as those of Bollandus, Mabillon, and Tillemont, quite surpassing any now issued even by the wealthiestpublishers among ourselves, and only approached, and that at a distance, by Pertz's "Monumenta" in Germany. 

New material was now poured upon him from every quarter, from EnglishBenedictines even and Irish Franciscans; though indeed, as regards thelatter, Bollandus seems to have cherished a wholesome suspicion as tothe genuineness of many, if not most, of the Irish legends. ButBollandus, though he worked hard, and knew no other enjoyment save hiswork, was only human. He soon found the labour was too great for any oneman to perform, while, in addition, he was racked and torn with diseasein many shapes; gout, stone, rupture, all settled like harpies upon hisemaciated frame, so that in 1635 he was compelled to take Henschenius ashis assistant. This was in every respect a fortunate choice, asHenschenius proved himself a man of much wider views as to the scope ofthe work than Bollandus himself. Bollandus had proposed simply toincorporate the notices of the Saints found in ancient martyrologies andmanuscripts, adding brief notes upon any difficulties of history, geography, or theology, which might arise. To Henschenius was allottedthe month of February. He at once set to work, and produced under thedate of Feb. 6, exhaustive memoirs of SS. Amandus and Vedastus, Gallicbishops of the sixth and eleventh centuries whose lives present astriking picture of those troubled times, amid which the foundations ofFrench history were laid. Henschenius scorned the narrow limits withinwhich his master would fain limit himself. He boldly launched out into adiscussion of all the aspects of his subject, discussing not merely themen themselves, but also the history of their times, and doing that in amanner now impossible, as the then well stored, but now widely scatteredmuniment rooms of the abbeys of Flanders and Northern France lay at hisdisposal. Bollandus was so struck with the success of this innovationthat he at once abandoned his own restricted ideas, and adopted the moreexhaustive method of his assistant, which of course involved theextension of the work far beyond the sixteen volumes originallycontemplated. The first two volumes appeared in 1643, and the nextthree, including the "Saints of February, " in 1658. About this time thereigning Pontiff, Alexander VII. , who had been the life-long friend andpatron of Bollandus, pressed upon him, an oft-repeated invitation tovisit Rome, and utilize for his work the vast stores accumulated thereand in the other libraries of Italy. Bollandus had hitherto excusedhimself. In fact, he possessed already more material than he couldconveniently use. But now that larger apartments had been assigned tohim, and proper arrangements and classifications adopted in hislibrary--due especially to the skill of Henschenius--he felt that such ajourney would be most advantageous to his work. As, however, he couldnot go in person, owing to his infirmities, which were daily increasing, he deputed thereto Henschenius and Daniel Papebrock, a young assistantlately added to the Company, and destined to spend fifty-five years inits service. The history of that literary journey is well worth reading. The reader, curious on such points, will find it in the "Life ofBollandus, " prefixed to the first volume of the "March Saints, " chap. Xiii. --xx. Still more interesting, were it printed, would be the diaryof his journey kept by Papebrock, now preserved in the Burgundy Libraryat Brussels, and numbered 17, 672. Twenty-nine months were spent in thisjourney, from the middle of 1659 to the end of 1661. Bollandusaccompanied his disciples as far as Cologne, where they were receivedwith almost royal honours. After parting with their master, hisfollowers proceeded up the Rhine and through Southern Germany, making avery thorough examination of the libraries, to all of which free accesswas given; the very Protestant town of Nuremberg being most forward tohonour the literary travellers, while the President of the LutheranConsistory assisted them even with his purse. Entering Italy by way ofTrent, they arrived at Venice towards the end of October, where theyfound the first rich store of Greek manuscripts, and whence also theydespatched by sea to Bollandus the first fruits of their toil. FromVenice they made a thorough examination of the libraries of North-eastItaly, at Vicenza, Verona, Padua, Bologna; whence they turned aside tovisit Ravenna, walking thither one winter's day, November 18--a journeyof thirty miles--and Henschenius, be it observed, was now sixty years ofage. [8] They spent the greater part of the year 1661 at Rome, atNaples--where the blood and relics of St. Januarius were speciallyexhibited to them, an honour only conferred on kings and theirambassadors--and amid the rich libraries of the numerous abbeys ofSouthern Italy. But even when absent from Rome their work there went onapace. They enjoyed the friendship of some wealthy merchants from theirown land, who liberally supplied them with money, enabling them toemploy five or six scribes to copy the manuscripts they selected; whilethe patronage of two eminent scholars, even yet celebrated in the worldof letters, Lucas Holstenius and Ferdinand Ughelli, backed by the stillmore powerful aid of the Pope, placed every library at their command. The Pope, indeed, went so far as to remove, in their case, everyanathema forbidding the removal of books or manuscripts from thelibraries. Lucas Holstenius, in his boyhood a Lutheran, in his later agean agent in the conversion of Queen Christina of Sweden, and one of thegreatest among the giants of the black-letter learning of the age, ratedthe Bollandists and their work so highly that, at his decease, whichtook place while they were in Rome, he used their ministry alone inreceiving the last sacraments of the Roman Church. Encouraged andsupported thus, the Bollandists economized and utilized every moment. They were in the habit of rising before day to say their sacred offices;and then prosecuted, with their secretaries, their loved work till tenor eleven o'clock at night. When leaving Rome they were enabledtherefore to send to Bollandus, by sea, a second consignment of threechests of manuscripts, in addition to a large store which they carriedhome themselves. 

On their return journey they visited Florence and Milan, spending morethan half a year in these libraries, and then proceeded through Franceto Paris, where they met scholars like Du Cange, Combefis, and Labbe. They finally arrived at home December 21, 1661, to find Bollandus in avery precarious state of health, which terminated in his death in 1665. The life of Bolland is a type of the lives led by all his disciples andsuccessors. Devout, retired, studious, they gave themselves up, generation after generation, to their appointed task, the elderscontinually assuming to themselves one or two younger assistants, so asto preserve their traditions unimpaired. And what a work was theirs! Howit dwarfed all modern publications! Bollandus worked at eight of thosefolios, Henschenius at twenty-four, Papebrock at nineteen, Janningus hissuccessor at thirteen; and so the work went on, aided by a subsidy fromthe Imperial House of Austria, till the suppression of the Jesuits, which was followed soon after by the dissolution of the Bollandists in1788. Their library became then an object of desire to many foreigners, who would undoubtedly have purchased it, had it not been for theopposition of the local government, and of several Belgian abbeys. Itwas finally bought by Godfrey Hermans, a Præmonstratensian abbat, underwhose auspices the publication of the work continued for seven yearslonger, till, on the outburst of the wars of the French Revolution, thelibrary was dispersed, part burnt, part hidden, part hurried intoWestphalia. At length, after various chances, a great part of themanuscripts was obtained for the ancient library of the House ofBurgundy, now forming part of the Royal Library at Brussels, whileothers of them were reclaimed for the library of the New Bollandists atLouvain, where the work is now carried on. After the dissolution of theold Company, two attempts at least, one in 1801 and the other in1810--this last under the all-powerful patronage of Napoleon--were made, though without success, to revive the work. Better fortune attended aproposal made in 1838 by four members of the Jesuit Society--viz. , J. B. Boone, J. Vandermocre, P. Coppens, and J. Van Hecke. Since that time thepublication of the volumes has steadily proceeded; we may even hope thatthe progress of the work in the future will be still more rapid, as theCompany has lately added to its ranks P. C. De Smedt, one of the mostlearned and laborious ecclesiastical historians in the RomanCommunion. [9]

After this sketch of the history of the Bollandists, which the literarystudent can easily supplement from the various memoirs of deceasedmembers scattered through the volumes of the "Acta Sanctorum, " weproceed to a consideration of the results of labours so long, so varied, and so strenuous. We shall now describe the plan of the work, the helpsall too little known towards the effective use thereof, and then offersome specimens illustrating its critical value. When an ordinary readertakes up a volume of the "Acta Sanctorum, "' he is very apt to findhimself utterly at sea. The very pagination is puzzling, two distinctkinds being used in all of the volumes, and even three in some. Thenagain lists, indexes, dissertations, acts of Saints, seem mingledindiscriminately. This apparent confusion, however, is all on thesurface, as the reader will at once see, if he take the trouble to readthe second chapter of the general preface prefixed to the first volumeof the "January Saints, "' where the plan of the work is elaborately setforth. Let us briefly analyze a volume. The daily order of the Romanmartyrology was taken as the basis of Bolland's scheme. Our author firstof all arranged the saints of each day in chronological order, discussing them accordingly. A list of the names belonging to it isprefixed to the portion of the volume devoted to each separate day, sothat one can see at a glance the lives belonging to that day and theorder in which they are taken. A list then follows of those rejected orpostponed to other days. Next come prefaces, prolegomena, and "previousdissertations, " examining the lives, actions, and miracles of theSaints, authorship and history of the manuscripts, and other literaryand historical questions. Then appear the lives of the Saints in theoriginal language, if Latin; if not, then a Latin version is given;while of the Greek _menologion_, which the Bollandists discovered duringtheir Roman journey, we have both the Greek original and a Latintranslation. Appended to the lives are annotations, explaining anydifficulties therein; while no less than five or six indexes adorn eachvolume: the first an alphabetical list of Saints discussed; the secondchronological; the third historical; the fourth topographical; the fifthan onomasticon, or glossary; the sixth moral or dialectic, suggestingtopics for preachers. 

Prefixed to each volume will be found a dedication to some of thenumerous patrons of the Bollandists, followed by an account of the lifeand labours of any of their Company who had died since their lastpublication. Thus, opening the first volume for March, we find, inorder, a dedication to the reigning Pope, Clement IX; the life ofBollandus; an alphabetical index of all the Saints celebrated during thefirst eight days of March; a chronological list of Saints discussedunder the head of March 1; the lives of Saints, including the Greek onesdiscovered by Henschenius during his Italian tour, ranged under theirvarious natal days, followed by five indexes as already described. But, the reader may well ask, is there no general index, no handy means ofsteering one's way through this vast mass of erudition, withoutconsulting each one of those fifty or sixty volumes? Without such anapparatus, indeed, this giant undertaking would be largely in vain; buthere again the forethought of Bollandus from the very outset of hisenterprise made provision for a general index, which was at lastpublished at Paris, in 1875. We possess also in Potthast's "BibliothecaHistorica Medii Aevi, " a most valuable guide through the mazes of the"Acta Sanctorum, " while for a very complete analysis of every volume, joined with a lucid explanation of any changes in arrangement, we mayconsult De Backer's "Bibliothèque des Ecrivains de la Compagnie deJésus, " t. V. , under the name "Bollandus. "

But some may say, what is the use of consulting these volumes? Are theynot simply gigantic monuments of misplaced and misapplied humanindustry, gathering up every wretched nursery tale and villagesuperstition, and transmitting them to future ages? Such certainly hasbeen the verdict of some who knew only the backs of the books, or who atfarthest had opened by chance upon some passage where--true to theirrule which compelled them to print their manuscripts as they foundthem--the Bollandists have recorded the legendary stories of the MiddleAges. Yet even for an age which searches diligently, as after hidtreasure, for the old folk-lore, the nursery rhymes, the popular songsand legends of Scandinavia, Germany, and Greece, the legends of mediævalChristendom might surely prove interesting. But I regard the "ActaSanctorum" as specially valuable for mediæval history, secular as wellas ecclesiastical, simply because the authors--having had unrivalledopportunities of obtaining or copying documents--printed theirauthorities as they found them; and thus preserves for us a mine ofhistorical material which otherwise would have perished in the FrenchRevolution and its subsequent wars. Yet it is very strange how littlethis mine has been worked. We must suppose indeed that it was simply dueto the want of the helps enumerated above--all of which have come intoexistence within the last twenty-five years--that neither of our owngreat historians who have dealt with the Middle Ages, Gibbon or Hallam, have, as far as we have been able to discover, ever consulted them. 

Yet the very titles of even a few out of the very many criticaldissertations appended to the "Lives of the Saints, " will show how veryvaried and how very valuable were the purely historical labours of theBollandists. Thus opening the first volume of the "ThesaurusAntiquitatis, " a collection of the critical treatises scattered throughthe volumes published prior to 1750, the following titles strike theeye:--"Dissertations on the Byzantine historian Theophanes, " on the"Ancient Catalogues of the Roman Pontiffs, " on the "Diplomatic Art"--adiscussion which elicited the famous treatise of Mabillon, "De ReDiplomatica, " laying down the true principles for distinguishing falsedocuments from true--on certain mediæval "Itineraries in Palestine, " onthe "Patriarchates of Alexandria and Jerusalem, " on the "Bishops ofMilan to the year 1261, " on the "Mediæval Kings of Majorca" and no lessthan three treatises on the "Chronology of the early Merovingian andother French Kings. " Let us take for instance these last mentionedessays on the early French kings. In them we find the Bollandistsdiscovering a king of France, Dagobert II. , whose romantic history, banishment to Ireland, restoration to his kingdom by the instrumentalityof Archbishop Wilfrid, of York, and tragic death, had till theirinvestigations lain hidden from every historian. As soon, indeed, asthey had brought this obscure episode to light, and had elaboratelytraced the genealogy of the Merovingians, their claim to the discoverywas disputed by Hadr. Valesius, the historiographer to the French Court, who was of course jealous that any one else should know more about theorigins of the French monarchy than he did. His pretension, however, waseasily refuted by Henschenius, who showed that he had himself discoveredthis derelict king twelve years before Valesius turned his thoughts tothe subject, having published in 1654 a dissertation upon him distinctfrom those embodied in the "Acta Sanctorum. " Hallam, in his "History ofthe Middle Ages, " introduces this king, and notices that his history hadescaped all historians till discovered by some learned men in theseventeenth century, for it is in this vague way he alludes to theBollandists--and then refers for his authority to Sismondi, who in turnknows nothing of the Bollandists' share in the discovery, but attributesit to Mabillon when treating of the "Acts of the Benedictine Saints. "Let us again take up Hallam, and we shall in vain search for notices ofthe kings of Majorca, a branch of the Royal family of Arragon, whoreigned over the Balearic Islands in the thirteenth and fourteenthcenturies. Let any one, however, desirous of a picture of the domesticlife of sovereigns during the Middle Ages, take up Papebrock's treatiseon the "Palatine Laws" of James II. , King of Majorca, A. D. 1324, wherehe will see depicted--all the more minutely because from the size of hisprincipality the king had no other outlet for his energy--the ritual ofa mediæval Court, illustrated, too, with pictures drawn from theoriginal manuscript. In this document are laid down with painfulminuteness, the duties of every official from the chancellor and themajor-domo to the lowest scullions and grooms, including butlers, cooks, blacksmiths, musicians, scribes, physicians, surgeons, chaplains, choir-men, and chamberlains. Remote, too, as these kings of Majorca andtheir elaborate ceremonial may seem to be from the England of to-day, acareful study of these "Palace Laws" would seem to indicate either thatour own Court Ritual was derived from it, or else that both are deducedfrom one common stock. The point of contact, however, between our ownCourt etiquette and that of Majorca is not so very hard to find. Thekings of Arragon, acting on the usual principle, might is right, devoured the inheritance of their kinsmen, which lay so tantalizinglyclose to their own shores, during the lifetime of the worthy legislator, James II. But as Greece led captive her conqueror, Rome, so too Arragon, though superior in brute force, bowed to the genius of Majorca, at leaston points of courtly details, and adopted _en bloc_ the laws of JamesII. , which were published as his own by Peter IV. , King of Arragon, A. D. 1344. Thence they passed over to the United Kingdom of Castile andArragon, and so may have easily found their way to England; for surely, if a naturally ceremonious people like the Spaniards needed instructionon such matters from the Majorcans, how much more must colder northernslike ourselves. This incident illustrates the special opportunitiespossessed by the Bollandists for consulting ancient documents, whichotherwise would most probably have been lost for ever. Their manuscriptof those Majorcan laws seems to have been originally the property of thelegislator himself. When King James was dispossessed of his kingdom, hefled to Philip VI. Of France, seeking redress, and bearing with him asplendid copy of his laws as a present, which his son and successor Johnin turn presented to Philip, Duke of Burgundy. After lying there acentury it found its way to Flanders, in the train of a Duchess ofBurgundy, and thus finally came into the possession of the AntwerpJesuits. 

Again, the study of the Bollandists throws light upon the past historyand present state of Palestine. Thus the indefatigable Papebrock, equally at home in the most various kinds of learning, discusses thehistory of the Bishops and Patriarchs of Jerusalem, in a tractpreliminary to the third volume for May. But, not content with a subjectso wide, he branches off to treat of divers other questions relating toOriental history, such as the Essenes and the origin of Monasticism, theSaracenic persecution of the Eastern Christians, and the introduction ofthe Arabic notation into Europe. On this last head the Bollandistsanticipate some modern speculations. [10] He maintains, on the authorityof a Greek manuscript in the Vatican, written by an Eastern monk, Maximus Planudes, about 1270, that, while the Arabs derived theirnotation from the Brahmins of India, about A. D. 200, they onlyintroduced it into Eastern Europe so late as the thirteenth century. Upon the geography of Palestine again they give us information. Allmodern works of travel or survey dealing with the Holy Land, makefrequent reference to the records left us by men like Eusebius andJerome, and the itineraries of the "Bordeaux Pilgrim, " of BishopArculf, A. D. , 700, Benjamin of Tudela, A. D. 1163, and others. In thesecond volume for May, we have presented to us two itineraries, one ofwhich seems to have escaped general notice. One is the record ofAntoninus Martyr, a traveller in the seventh century. This is well knownand often quoted. The other is the diary of a Greek priest, JoannesPhocas, describing "the castles and cities from Antioch to Jerusalem, together with the holy places of Syria, Ph[oe]nicia, and Palestine, " asthey were seen by him in the year 1185. This manuscript, first publishedin the "Acta Sanctorum, " was discovered in the island of Chios, by LeoAllatius, afterwards librarian of the Vatican. It is very rich ininteresting details concerning the state of Palestine and Christiantradition in the twelfth century. The Bollandists again were the firstto bring prominently forward in the last volume of June the "AncientRoman Calendar of Polemeus Silvius. " This seems to have been a combinedcalendar and diary, kept by some citizen of Rome in the middle of thefifth century. It records from day to day the state of the weather, thedirection of the wind, the birthdays of eminent characters in history, poets like Virgil, orators like Cicero, emperors like Vespasian andJulian; and is at the same time most important as showing the largeintermixture of heathen ideas and fashions which still continuedparamount in Rome a century and a half after the triumph ofChristianity. 

The new Bollandists, indeed, do not produce such exhaustive monographsas their predecessors did; but we cannot join in the verdict of thewriter in the new issue of the "Encyclopædia Britannica, " who tells usthat the continuation is much inferior to the original work. Some oftheir articles manifest a critical acquaintance with the latest modernresearch, as, for instance, their dissertation on the Homerite Martyrsand the Jewish Homerite kingdom of Southern Arabia, wherein they displaytheir knowledge of the work done by the great Orientalists of Englandand Germany, while in their history of St. Rose, of Lima, A. D. 1617, they celebrate the only American who was ever canonized by the RomanCatholic Church, and, at the same time, give us a fearful picture of theausterities to which fanaticism can lead its victims. Perhaps to somereaders one of the most interesting points about this great work, whenviewed in the light of modern history, will be the complete change offront which it exhibits on one of the test questions about PapalInfallibility. One of the great difficulties in the path of thisdoctrine is the case of Liberius, Pope in the middle of the fourthcentury. He is accused--and to ordinary minds the accusation seemsjust--of having signed an Arian formula, of having communicated with theArians, and of having anathematized St. Athanasius. He stood firm for awhile, but was exiled by the Emperor. During his absence Felix II. Waschosen Pope. Liberius, after a time was permitted to return; whereuponthe spectacle, so often afterwards repeated, was witnessed of two Popescompeting for the Papal throne. Felix, however he may have fared inlife, has fairly surpassed his opponent in death, since Felix appears inthe Roman Martyrology as a Saint and a Martyr under the date of July29; while Liberius is not admitted therein even as a Confessor. Thiswould surely seem to give us every guarantee for the sanctity of Felix, and the fallibility of Liberius, as the Roman Martyrology of to-day isguaranteed by a decree of Pope Gregory XIII. , issued "under the ring ofthe Fisherman. " In this decree "all patriarchs, archbishops, bishops, abbots, and religious orders, " are bidden to use this Martyrologywithout addition, change, or subtraction; while any one so altering itis warned that he will incur the wrath of Almighty God and of theBlessed Apostles Peter and Paul. The earlier Bollandists, with thisawful anathema hanging over them, most loyally accepted the RomanMartyrology, and therefore most vigorously maintained, in the seventhvolume for July, the heresy of Liberius, as well as the orthodoxy andsaintship of Felix. But, as years rolled on, this admission was seen tobe of most dangerous consequence; and so we find, in the sixth volume, for September, that Felix has become, as he still remains in currentRoman historians, like Alzog, a heretic, a schismatic, and an anti-Pope, while Liberius is restored to his position as the only valid andorthodox Bishop of Rome. But then the disagreeable question arises, ifthis be so, what becomes of the Papal decree of Gregory XIII. Issued_sub annulo piscatoris_, and the anathemas appended thereto? With themerits of this controversy, however, we are, as historical students, ina very slight degree concerned; and we simply produce these facts asspecimens of the riches contained in the externally unattractive volumesof the "Acta Sanctorum. " Space would fail us, did we attempt to setforth at any length the contents of these volumes. Suffice it to saythat even upon our English annals, which have been so thoroughlyexplored of late years, the records of the Bollandists would probablythrow some light, discussing as they do, at great length, the lives ofsuch English Saints as Edward the Confessor and Wilfrid of York; and yetthey are not too favourably disposed towards our insular Saints, sincethey plainly express their opinion that our pious simplicity has filledtheir Acts with incredible legends and miracles, more suited to excitelaughter than to promote edification. 

But, doubtless, our reader is weary of our hagiographers. We must, therefore, notice briefly the controversies in which their laboursinvolved them. Bollandus, when he died, departed amid universal regret:Dominicans, Franciscans, Carmelites, all joined with Jesuits in regretfor his death, and in prayers for his eternal peace. A few yearsafterwards the Society experienced the very fleeting character of suchuniversal popularity. During the issue of the first twelve volumes, theyhad steered clear of all dangerous controversies by a rigid observanceof the precepts laid down by Bollandus. In discussing, however, the lifeof Albert, at first Bishop of Vercelli, and afterwards Papal Legate andLatin Patriarch of Jerusalem, in the beginning of the thirteenthcentury, Papebrock challenged the alleged antiquity of the CarmeliteOrder, which affected to trace itself back to Elijah the Tishbite. Thispiece of scepticism, brought down a storm upon his devoted head, whichraged for years and involved Popes, yea even Princes and Courts, in thequarrel. Du Cange threw the shield of his vast learning over the honestcriticism of the Jesuits. The Spanish Inquisition stepped forward indefence of the Carmelites; and toward the end of the seventeenth centurycondemned the first fourteen volumes of the "Acta Sanctorum" asdangerous to the faith. The Carmelites were very active in writingpamphlets in their own defence, wherein after the manner of the timethey deal more in hard words and bad names than in sound argument. Thusthe title of one of their pamphlets describes Papebrock as "the newIshmael whose hand is against every man and every man's hand is againsthim. " It is evident, however, that they felt the literary battle goingagainst them, inasmuch as in 1696 they petitioned the King of Spain toimpose perpetual silence upon their adversaries. As his most CatholicMajesty did not see fit to interfere, they presented a similar memorialto Pope Innocent XIII. , who in 1699 imposed the _clôture_ upon allparties, and thus effectually terminated a battle which had raged fortwenty years. Papebrock again involved himself at a later period in acontroversy touching a very tender and very important point in the Romansystem. In discussing the lives of some Chinese martyrs, he advocatedthe translation of the Liturgy into the vulgar tongue of the converts;which elicited a reply from Gueranger in his "InstitutionsThéologiques;" while again between the years 1729 and 1736 a pitchedbattle took place between the Bollandists and the Dominicans touchingthe genealogy of their founder, St. Dominic. All these controversies, with many other minor ones in which they were engaged, will be foundsummed up in an apologetic folio which the Bollandists published. Inlooking through it the reader will specially be struck by thisinstructive fact, that the bitterness and violence of the controversywere always in the inverse ratio of the importance of the points atissue. This much also must any fair mind allow: the Society of Jesus, since the days of Pascal and the "Provincial Letters, " has been regardedas a synonym for dishonesty and fraud. From any such charge the studentof the "Acta Sanctorum" must regard the Bollandists as free. In them webehold oftentimes a credulity which would not have found place among menwho knew by experience more of the world of life and action, but, onthe other hand, we find in them thorough loyalty to historical truth. They deal in no suppression of evidence; they give every side of thequestion. They write like men who feel, as Bollandus their founder did, that under no circumstances is it right to tell a lie. They neverhesitate to avow their own convictions and predilections. They drawtheir own conclusions, and put their own gloss upon facts and documents;but yet they give the documents as they found them, and they enable theimpartial student--working not in trammels as they did--to make asounder and truer use of them. They display not the spirit of the mereconfessor whose tone has been lowered by the stifling atmosphere of thecasuistry with which he has been perpetually dealing; but, the bracedsoul, the hardy courage of the historical critic, who having climbed thelofty peaks of bygone centuries, has watched and noted the inevitablediscovery and defeat of lies, the grandeur and beauty of truth. Theywere Jesuits indeed, and, like all the members of that Society, werebound, so far as possible, to sink all human affections and consecrateevery thought to the work of their order. If such a sacrifice be lawfulfor any man, if it be permitted any thus to suppress the deepest andholiest affections which God has created, surely such a sacrifice couldnot have been made in the pursuance of a worthier or nobler object thanthe rescue from destruction, and the preservation to all ages, of thefacts and documents contained in the "Acta Sanctorum. "

 GEORGE T. STOKES. 

FOOTNOTES:

[8] Henschenius was a man of great physical powers. He always delightedin walking exercise, and executed many of his literary journeys in Italyon foot, even amid the summer heats. Ten years later, when close onseventy, he walked on an emergency ten leagues in one day through themountains and forests of the Ardennes district, and was quite fresh nextday for another journey. He was a man of very full complexion. Accordingto the medical system of the time, he indulged in blood-letting once ortwice a year. 

[9] Since this paper was written the Bollandists have issued aprospectus of an annual publication called "Analecta Bollandiana. " Fromthis document we learn that disease and death have now reduced thecompany very low. De Smedt has had to retire almost as soon as elected. 

[10] Cf. , for instance, Colebrooke's "Life and Essays, " i. 309. Iii. 360, 399, 474; W[oe]pké, "Memoir on the Propagation of Indian Cyphers inJour. Asiatique, " 1863. 

ENGLAND, FRANCE, AND MADAGASCAR. 

The present difficulties between France and Madagascar, and the recentarrival of a Malagasy Embassy in this country, have made the name of thegreat African island a familiar one to all readers of our daily journalsduring the last few weeks. For some time past we have heard much ofcertain "French claims" upon Madagascar, and alleged "French rights"there; and since the envoys of the Malagasy sovereign are now in Englandseeking the friendly offices of our Government on behalf of theircountry, it will be well for Englishmen to endeavour to understand themerits of the dispute, and to know why they are called to take part inthe controversy. 

Except to a section of the English public which has for many years takena deep interest in the religious history of the island and givenliberally both men and money to enlighten it, and to a few others whoare concerned in its growing trade, Madagascar is still very vaguelyknown to the majority of English people; and, as was lately remarked bya daily journal, its name has until recently been almost as much a meregeographical expression as that of Mesopotamia. The island has, however, certain very interesting features in its scientific aspects, andespecially in some religious and social problems which have been workedout by its people during the past fifty years; and these may be brieflydescribed before proceeding to discuss the principal subject of thisarticle. 

Looking sideways at a map of the Southern Indian Ocean, Madagascarappears to rise like a huge sea monster out of the waters. The islandhas a remarkably compact and regular outline; for many hundred miles itseastern shore is almost a straight line, but on its north-western sideit is indented by a number of deep land-locked gulfs, which include someof the finest harbours in the world. About a third of its interior tothe north and east is occupied by an elevated mountainous region, raisedfrom 3, 000 to 5, 000 feet above the sea, and consisting of Primaryrocks--granite, gneiss, and basalt--probably very ancient land, andforming during the Secondary geological epoch an island much smallerthan the Madagascar of to-day. While our Oolitic and Chalk rocks werebeing slowly laid down under northern seas, the extensive coast plainsof the island, especially on its western and southern sides, were againand again under water, and are still raised but a few hundred feet abovethe sea-level. From south-east to north and north-west there extends aband of extinct volcanoes, connected probably with the old craters ofthe Comoro Group, where, in Great Comoro, the subterranean forces arestill active. All round the island runs a girdle of dense forest, varying from ten to forty miles in width, and containing fine timber andvaluable gums and other vegetable wealth--a paradise for botanists, where rare orchids, the graceful traveller's-tree, the delicatelattice-leaf plant, the gorgeous flamboyant, and many other elsewhereunknown forms of life abound, and where doubtless much still awaitsfuller research. 

While the flora of Madagascar is remarkably abundant, its fauna isstrangely limited, and contains none of the various and plentiful formsof mammalian life which make Southern and Central Africa the paradise ofsportsmen. The ancient land of the island has preserved antique forms oflife: many species of lemur make the forest resound with their cries;and these, with the curious and highly-specialized Aye-aye, and peculiarspecies of Viverridæ and Insectivora, are probably "survivals", of anold-world existence, when Madagascar was one of an archipelago of largeislands, whose remains are only small islands like the Seychelles andMascarene Groups, or coral banks and atolls like the Chagos, Amirante, and others, which are slowly disappearing beneath the ocean. Until twoor three hundred years ago, the coast-plains of Madagascar were troddenby the great struthious bird, the Æpyornis, apparently the most giganticmember of the avi-fauna of the world, and whose enormous eggs probablygave rise to the stories of the Rukh of the "Arabian Nights. " It will beevident, therefore, that Madagascar is full of interest as regards itsscientific aspects. 

When we look at the human inhabitants of the island there is also aconsiderable field for research, and some puzzling problems arepresented. While Madagascar may be correctly termed "the great _African_island" as regards its geographical position, considered ethnologically, it is rather a Malayo-Polynesian island. Though so near Africa, it hasbut slight connection with the continent; the customs, traditions, language, and mental and physical characteristics of its people all tendto show that their ancestors came across the Indian Ocean from thesouth-east of Asia. There are traces of some aboriginal peoples inparts of the interior, but the dark and the brown Polynesians areprobably both represented in the different Malagasy tribes; and althoughscattered somewhat thinly over an island a thousand miles long and fourtimes as large as England and Wales, there is substantially but onelanguage spoken throughout the whole of Madagascar. Of these people, theHova, who occupy the central portion of the interior high-land, are thelightest in colour and the most civilized, and are probably the latestand purest Malay immigrants. Along the western coast are a number oftribes commonly grouped under the term Sàkalàva, but each having its owndialect, chief, and customs. They are nomadic in habits, keeping largeherds of cattle, and are less given to agriculture than the central andeastern peoples. In the interior are found, besides the Hova, theSihànaka, the Bétsiléo, and the Bàra; in the eastern forests are theTanàla, and on the eastern coast are the Bétsimisàraka, Tamòro, Taisàka, and other allied peoples. 

From a remote period the various Malagasy tribes seem to have retainedtheir own independence of each other, no one tribe having any greatsuperiority; but about two hundred years ago a warlike south-westerntribe called Sàkalàva conquered all the others on the west coast, andformed two powerful kingdoms, which exacted tribute also from some ofthe interior peoples. Towards the commencement of the present century, however, the Hova became predominant; having conquered the interior andeastern tribes, they were also enabled by friendship with England tosubdue the Sàkalàva, and by the year 1824 King Radàma I. Had establishedhis authority over the whole of Madagascar except a portion of thesouth-west coast. 

A little earlier than the date last named--viz. , in 1820--a Protestantmission was commenced in the interior of the island at the capital city, Antanànarivo. This was with the full approval of the king, who was akind of Malagasy Peter the Great, and ardently desired that his peopleshould be enlightened. A small body of earnest men sent out by theLondon Missionary Society did a great work during the fifteen years theywere allowed to labour in the central provinces. They reduced thebeautiful and musical Malagasy language to a written form; they gave thepeople the beginnings of a native literature, and a complete version ofthe Holy Scriptures, and founded several Christian churches. Many of theuseful arts were also taught by the missionary artisans; and to allappearance Christianity and civilization seemed likely soon to prevailthroughout the country. 

But the accession of Queen Ranavàlona I. In 1828, and, still more, herproclamation of 1835 denouncing Christian teaching, dispelled thesepleasing anticipations. A severe persecution of Christianity ensued, which, however, utterly failed to prevent its progress, and only servedto show in a remarkable manner the faith and courage of the nativeChristians, of whom at least two hundred were put to death. Thepolitical state of the country was also very deplorable during thequeen's reign; almost all foreigners were excluded, and for some yearseven foreign commerce was forbidden. 

On the queen's death, in 1861, the island was reopened to trade and toChristian teaching, both of which have greatly progressed since thattime, especially during the reign of the present sovereign, who made apublic profession of Christianity at her accession in 1868. By theadvice and with the co-operation of her able Prime Minister numerouswise and enlightened measures have been passed for the better governmentof the country; idolatry has entirely passed away from the centralprovinces; education and civilization have been making rapid advances;and all who hope for human progress have rejoiced to see how theMalagasy have been gradually rising to the position of a civilized andChristian people. 

The present year has, however, brought a dark cloud over the brightprospects which have been opening up for Madagascar. Foreign aggressionon the independence of the country is threatened on the part of France, and a variety of so-called "claims" have been put forward to justifyinterference with the Malagasy, and alleged "rights" are urged to largeportions of their territory. 

It is not perfectly clear why the present time has been chosen for thisrecent ebullition of French feeling, since, if any French rights everexisted to any portion of Madagascar, they might have been as justly (orunjustly) urged for the last forty years as now. Some three or fourminor matters have no doubt been made the ostensible pretext, [11] butthe real reason is doubtless the same as that which has led to Frenchattempts to obtain territory in Tongking, in the Congo Valley, in theGulf of Aden, and in Eastern Polynesia, viz. , a desire to retrieveabroad their loss of influence in Europe; and especially to heal theFrench _amour propre_, sorely wounded by their having allowed England tosettle alone the Egyptian difficulty. 

It is much to be wished that some definite and authoritative statementcould be obtained from French statesmen or writers as to the exactclaims now put forward and their justification, with some slightconcession to the request of outsiders for reason and argument. As itis, almost every French newspaper seems to have a theory of its own, andwe read a good deal about "our ancient rights, " and "our acknowledgedclaims, " together with similar vague and rather grandiose language. Asfar as can be ascertained, four different theories seem to be held:--(1)Some French writers speak of their "ancient rights, " as if the variousutter failures of their nation to retain any military post inMadagascar in the 17th and 18th centuries were to be urged as givingrights of possession. 

(2) Others talk about "the treaties of 1841" with two rebelliousSàkalàva tribes as an ample justification of their present action. 

(3) Others, again, refer to the repudiated and abandoned "Lamberttreaty" of 1862 as, somehow or other, still giving the French a holdupon Madagascar. And (4) during the last few days we have been gravelyinformed that "France will insist upon carrying out the treaty of 1868, "which gives no right in Madagascar to France beyond that given to everynation with whom a treaty has been made, and which says not one wordabout any French protectorate. [12]

It will be necessary to examine these four points a little in detail. 

1. Of what value are "ancient French rights" in Madagascar? These do notrest upon _discovery_ of the country, or prior occupation of it, sincealmost every writer, French, English, or German, agrees that thePortuguese, in 1506, were the first Europeans to land on the island. They retained some kind of connection with Madagascar for many years;and so did the Dutch, for a shorter period, in the early part of theseventeenth century; and the English also had a small colony on thesouth-west side of the island before any French attempts were made atcolonization. Three European nations therefore preceded the French inMadagascar. 

During the seventeenth century, from 1643 to 1672, repeated efforts weremade by the French to maintain a hold on three or four points of theeast coast of the island. But these were not colonies, and were soutterly mismanaged that eventually the French were driven out by theexasperated inhabitants; and after less than thirty years' intermittentoccupation of these positions, the country was abandoned by themaltogether for more than seventy years. [13] In the latter part of theeighteenth century fresh attempts were made (after 1745), but withlittle better result; one post after another was relinquished; so thattowards the beginning of the present century the only use made ofMadagascar by the French was for the slave-trade, and the maintenance oftwo or three trading stations for supplying oxen to the MascareneIslands. [14] In 1810 the capture of Mauritius and Bourbon by the Britishgave a decisive blow to French predominance in the Southern IndianOcean; their two or three posts on the east coast were occupied byEnglish troops, and were by us given over to Radàma I. , who hadsucceeded in making himself supreme over the greater portion of theisland. The French eventually seized the little island of Ste. Marie's, off the eastern coast, but retained not a foot of soil upon themainland; and so ended, it might have been supposed, their "ancientrights" in Madagascar. [15]

It is, however, quite unnecessary to dwell further on this point, as therecognition by the French, in their treaty with Radàma II. , of thatprince as _King of Madagascar_ was a sufficient renunciation of theirancient pretensions. This is indeed admitted by French writers. M. Galos, writing in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_(Oct. 1863, p. 700), says, speaking of the treaty of Sept. 2, 1861:--

 "By that act, in which Radàma II. Appears as King of Madagascar, we have recognized without restriction his sovereignty over all the island. In consequence of that recognition two consuls have been accredited to him, the one at Tanànarìvo, the other at Tamatave, who only exercise their functions by virtue of an _exequatur_ from the real sovereign. "

Again he remarks:--?

 "We see that France would not gain much by resuming her position anterior to 1861; also, we may add, without regret, that it is no longer possible. We have recognized in the King of Madagascar the necessary quality to enable him to treat with us on all the interests of the island. It does not follow, because he or his successors fail to observe the engagements that they have contracted, that therefore the quality aforesaid is lost, _or that we should have the right to refuse it to them for the future_. "[16]

And the treaty of 1868 again, in which the present sovereign isrecognized as "Reine de Madagascar, " fully confirms the view of theFrench writer just cited. [17]

2. Let us now look for a moment at the Lambert treaty, or rathercharter, of 1862. On his accession to the throne in 1861, the youngking, Radàma II. , soon fell into follies and vices which were not alittle encouraged by some Frenchmen who had ingratiated themselves withhim. A Monsieur Lambert, a planter from Réunion, managed to obtain theking's consent to a charter conceding to a company to be formed byLambert very extensive rights over the whole of Madagascar. The king'ssignature was obtained while he was in a state of intoxication, at abanquet given at the house of the French Consul, and against theremonstrances of all the leading people of the kingdom. But theconcession was one of the principal causes of the revolution of thefollowing year, in which the king lost both crown and life; and it waspromptly repudiated by the new Sovereign and her Government, as avirtual abandonment of the country to France. Threats of bombardment, &c. , were freely used, but at length it was arranged that, on thepayment of an indemnity of a million francs by the native Government tothe company, its rights should be abandoned. It is said that thispacific result was largely due to the good sense and kindly feeling ofthe Emperor Napoleon, who, on being informed of the progress incivilization and Christianity made by the Malagasy, refused to allowthis to be imperilled by aggressive war. There would seem, then, to beno ground for present French action on the strength of the repudiatedLambert treaty. 

3. As already observed, several French public prints have been loudlyproclaiming that France is resolved "to uphold the treaty of 1868 in itsentirety. "[18] It may with the same emphasis be announced that theMalagasy Government is equally resolved to uphold it, so far at least asthey are concerned, especially its first article, which declares that"in all time to come the subjects of each power shall be friends, andshall preserve amity, and shall never fight. " But it should be alsocarefully noted that this 1868 treaty recognizes unreservedly the Queenas Sovereign _of Madagascar_, makes no admission of, or allusion to, anyof these alleged French rights, much less any protectorate; and issimply a treaty of friendship and commerce between two nations, standing, as far as power to make treaties is concerned, on an equalfooting. If French statesmen, therefore, are sincere in saying that theyonly require the maintenance of the treaty of 1868 in its integrity, thedifficulties between the two nations will soon be at an end. 

But it is doubtful whether the foregoing is really a French "claim, " asfar more stress has been laid, and will still doubtless be laid, uponcertain alleged treaties of 1841. What the value of these is we must nowconsider. 

4. The facts connected with the 1841 treaties are briefly these:--In theyear 1839 two of the numerous Sàkalàva tribes of the north-west of theisland, who had since the conquest in 1824 been in subjection to thecentral government, broke into rebellion. It happened that a French warvessel was then cruising in those waters, and as the French had for sometime previously lost all the positions they had ever occupied on theeast coast, it appeared a fine opportunity for recovering prestige inthe west. By presents and promises of protection they induced, it isalleged, the chieftainess of the Ibòina people, and the chief of theTankàrana, further north, to cede to them their territories on themainland, as well as the island of Nòsibé, off the north-west coast. These treaties are given by De Clercq, "Recueil de Traités, " vol. Iv. Pp. 594, 597; but whether these half-barbarous Sàkalàva, ignorant ofreading and writing, knew what they were doing, is very doubtful. Nòsibéwas, however, taken possession of by the French in 1841, and has eversince then remained in their hands; but, curiously enough, until thepresent year, no claim has ever been put forward to any portion of themainland, or any attempt made to take possession of it. But thesetreaties have been lately advanced as justifying very large demands onthe part of the French, including (_a_) a protectorate over the portionsceded; (_b_) a protectorate over all the northern part of the island, from Mojangà across to Aritongil Bay; (_c_) a protectorate over all thewestern side of the island; finally (_d_), "general rights" (whateverthese may mean) over all Madagascar! Most English papers have rightlyconsidered these treaties as affording no justification for such largepretensions, although one or two[19] have argued that the London presshas unfairly depreciated the strength of French claims. Is this reallyso?

The Malagasy Government and its envoys to Europe have strenuously deniedthe right of a rebellious tribe to alienate any portion of the countryto a foreign power; a right which would never be recognized by anycivilized nation, and which they will resist to the last. The followingare amongst some of the reasons they urge as vitiating and nullifyingany French claim upon the mainland founded upon the 1841 treaties:--

i. The territory claimed had been fairly conquered in war in 1824 by theHova, and their sovereign rights had for many years never been disputed. 

ii. The present queen and her predecessors had been acknowledged by theFrench in their treaties of 1868 and 1862 as sovereigns of Madagascar, without any reserve whatever. (See also _Revue des deux Mondes_, alreadycited. )

iii. Military posts have been established there, and customs dutiescollected by Hova officials ever since the country was conquered bythem, and these have been paid without any demur or reservation byFrench as well as by all other foreign vessels. Some years agocomplaints were made by certain French traders of overcharges; thesewere investigated, and money was refunded. 

iv. All the Sàkalàva chiefs in that part of the island have at varioustimes rendered fealty to the sovereign at Antanànarìvo. 

v. These same Sàkalàva, both princes and people, have paid a yearlypoll-tax to the Central Government. 

vi. The French flag has never been hoisted on the mainland ofMadagascar, nor, for forty years, has any claim to this territory beenmade by France, nothing whatever being said about any rights orprotectorate on their part in the treaties concluded during that period. 

vii. The Hova governors have occasionally (after the fashion set now andthen by governors of more civilized peoples) oppressed the conqueredraces. But the Sàkalàva have always looked to the Queen at Antanànarìvofor redress (and have obtained it), and never has any reference beenmade to France, nor has any jurisdiction been claimed by France or bythe colonial French authorities in the matter. 

viii. British war-vessels have for many years past had the right(conceded by our treaty of 1865) to cruise in these north-western bays, creeks, and rivers, for the prevention of the slave trade. The BritishConsul has landed on this territory, and in conducting inquiries hasdealt directly with the Hova authorities without the slightest referenceto France, or any claim from the latter that he should do so. 

ix. The French representatives in Madagascar have repeatedly blamed theCentral Government for not asserting its authority more fully over thenorth-west coast; and several years ago, in the reign of Ranavàlona I. , a French subject, with the help of a few natives, landed on this coastwith the intention of working some of the mineral productions, and builta fortified post. Refusing to desist, he was attacked by the Queen'stroops, and eventually killed. No complaint was ever made by the Frenchauthorities on account of this occurrence, as it was admitted to be thejust punishment for an unlawful act. Yet it was done on what the Frenchnow claim as their territory. 

x. And, lastly, France has quite recently (in May of this year) extorteda heavy money fine from the Malagasy Government for a so-called"outrage" committed by the Sàkalàva upon some Arabs from Mayotta, sailing under French colours. These latter were illegally attempting toland arms and ammunition, and were killed in the fight which ensued. Thedemand was grossly unjust, but the fact of its having been made wouldseem to all impartial persons to vitiate utterly all French claims tothis territory, as an unmistakable acknowledgment of the Hova supremacythere. 

Such are, as far as can be ascertained, the most important reasonsrecently put forth for French claims upon Madagascar, and the Malagasyreplies thereto; and it would really be a service to the nativeGovernment and its envoys if some French writer of authority andknowledge would endeavour to refute the arguments just advanced. 

Another point of considerable importance is the demand of the Frenchthat leases of ninety-nine years shall be allowed. This has beenresisted by the Malagasy Government as most undesirable in the presentcondition of the country. It is, however, prepared to grant leases ofthirty-five years, renewable on complying with certain forms. Itargues, with considerable reason on its side, that unless all powers ofobtaining land by foreigners are strictly regulated, the more ignorantcoast people will still do as they are known to have done, and will makeover, while intoxicated, large tracts of land to foreign adventurers forthe most trifling consideration, such as a bottle of rum, or a similarpayment. 

 * * * * *

The question now arises, what have Englishmen to do in this matter, andwhat justifies our taking part in the dispute?

Let us first frankly make two or three admissions. We have no right tohinder, nor do we seek to prevent, the legitimate development of thecolonial power of France. So far as France can replace savagery by truecivilization, we shall rejoice in her advances in any part of the world. And further, we have no right to, nor do we pretend to the exercise of, the duty of police of the world. But at the same time, while we oughtnot and cannot undertake such extensive responsibilities, we have, inthis part of the Indian Ocean, constituted ourselves for many years akind of international police for the suppression of the slave-trade, inthe interests of humanity and freedom; and this fact has been expresslyor tacitly recognized by other European Powers. The sacrifices we havemade to abolish slavery in our own colonies, and our commercialsupremacy and naval power, have justified and enabled us to take thisposition. And, as we shall presently show, the supremacy of the Frenchin Madagascar would certainly involve a virtual revival of theslave-trade. 

It may also be objected by some that, as regards aggression upon foreignnations, we do not ourselves come into court with clean hands. We mustwith shame admit the accusation. But, on the other hand, we do not carryon religious persecution in the countries we govern; and, further, wehave restored the Transvaal, we have retired from Afghanistan, and, notwithstanding the advocates of an "Imperialist" policy in Egypt, weare not going to retain the Nile Delta as a British province. And, aswas well remarked in the _Daily News_ lately, "such an argument proves agreat deal too much. It would be fatal to the progress of public opinionas a moral agent altogether, and might fix the mistaken policy of aparticular epoch as the standard of national ethics for all time. "

What claim, then, has England to intervene in this dispute, and to offermediation between France and Madagascar?

(_a_) England has greatly aided Madagascar to attain its presentposition as a nation. Largely owing to the help she gave to theenlightened Hova king, Radàma I. , from 1817 to 1828, he was enabled toestablish his supremacy over most of the other tribes of the island, and, in place of a number of petty turbulent chieftaincies, to form onestrong central government, desirous of progress, and able to put downintestine wars, as well as the export slave-trade of the country. Forseveral years a British agent, Mr. Hastie, lived at the Court of Radàma, exercising a powerful influence for good over the king, and doing verymuch for the advancement of the people. In later times, through Englishinfluence, and by the provisions of our treaty with Madagascar, theimport slave-trade has been stopped, and a large section of the slavepopulation--those of African birth, brought into the island by the Arabslaving dhows--has been set free (in June, 1877). 

(_b_) England has done very much during the last sixty years to developcivilization and enlightenment in Madagascar. The missionary workmen, sent out by the London Missionary Society from 1820 to 1835, introducedmany of the useful arts--viz. , improved methods of carpentry, iron-working, and weaving, the processes of tanning, and severalmanufactures of chemicals, soap, lime-burning, &c. ; and they alsoconstructed canals and reservoirs for rice-culture. 

From 1862 to 1882 the same Society's builders have introduced the use ofbrick and stone construction, have taught the processes of brick andtile manufacture and the preparation of slates, and have erectednumerous stone and brick churches, schools, and houses; and these artshave been so readily learned by the people that the capital and othertowns have been almost entirely rebuilt within the last fifteen yearswith dwellings of European fashion. England has also been the principalagent in the intellectual advance of the Malagasy; for, as alreadymentioned, English missionaries were the first to reduce the nativelanguage to a grammatical system, and to give the people their owntongue in a written form. They also prepared a considerable number ofbooks, and founded an extensive school system. [20] If we look at whatEngland has done for Madagascar, a far more plausible case might be madeout--were we so disposed--for "English claims" on the island, than anythat France can produce. 

(_c_) England has considerable political interests in preservingMadagascar free from French control. These should not be overlooked, asthe influence of the French in those seas is already sufficientlystrong. Not only are they established in the small islands of Ste. Marieand Nòsibé, off Madagascar itself, but they have taken possession of twoof the Comoro group, Mayotta and Mohilla. Réunion is French; andalthough Mauritius and the Seychelles are under English government, theyare largely French in speech and sympathy. And it must be rememberedthat the first instalment of territory which is now coveted includesfive or six large gulfs, besides numerous inlets and river mouths, andespecially the Bay of Diego Suarez, one of the finest natural harbours, and admirably adapted for a great naval station. The possession ofthese, and eventually of the whole of the island, would seriously affectthe balance of power in the south-west Indian Ocean, making Frenchinfluence preponderant in these seas, and in certain very possiblepolitical contingencies would be a formidable menace to our SouthAfrican colonies. 

(_d_) We have also commercial interests in Madagascar which cannot bedisregarded, because, although the island does not yet contributelargely to the commerce of the world, it is a country of great naturalresources, and its united export and import trade, chiefly in Englishand American hands, is already worth about a million annually. Our ownshare of this is fourfold that of the French, and British subjects inMadagascar outnumber those of France in the proportion of five to one;and our valuable colony of Mauritius derives a great part of itsfood-supply from the great island. 

But apart from the foregoing considerations, it is from no narrowjealousy that we maintain that French preponderance in Madagascar wouldwork disastrously for freedom and humanity in that part of the world. Weare not wholly free from blame ourselves with regard to the treatment ofthe coolie population of Mauritius; but it must be remembered that, although that island is English in government, its inhabitants arechiefly French in origin, and they retain a great deal of that utterwant of recognition of the rights of coloured people which seemsinherent in the French abroad. So that successive governors have beenconstantly thwarted by magistrates and police in their efforts to obtainjustice for the coolie immigrants. A Commission of Inquiry in 1872, however, forced a number of reforms, and since then there has beenlittle ground for complaint. But in the neighbouring island of Réunionthe treatment of the Hindu coolies has been so bad that at length theIndian Government has refused to allow emigration thither any longer. For some years past French trading vessels have been carrying off fromthe north-west Madagascar coast hundreds of people for the Réunionplantations. Very lately a convention was made with the Portugueseauthorities at Mozambique to supply coloured labourers for Réunion, and, doubtless, also with a view to sugar estates yet to be made inMadagascar--a traffic which is the slave-trade in all but the name. TheFrench flag is sullied by being allowed to be used by slaving dhows--aniniquity owing to which our brave Captain Brownrigg met his death notlong ago. Is it any exaggeration to say that an increase of Frenchinfluence in these seas is one of sad omen for freedom?

And, further, a French protectorate over a part of the island wouldcertainly work disastrously for the progress of Madagascar itself. Ithas been already shown that during the present century the country hasbeen passing out of the condition of a collection of petty independentStates into that of one strong Kingdom, whose authority is graduallybecoming more and more firmly established over the whole island. And allhope of progress is bound up in the strengthening and consolidation ofthe central Hova Government, with capable governors representing itsauthority over the other provinces. But for many years past the Frenchhave depreciated and ridiculed the Hova power; and except M. Guillain, who, in his "Documents sur la Partie Occidentale de Madagascar, " haswritten with due appreciation of the civilizing policy of Radàma I. , there is hardly any French writer but has spoken evil of the centralgovernment, simply because every step taken towards the unification ofthe country makes their own projects less feasible. French policy is, therefore, to stir up the outlying tribes, where the Hova authority isstill weak, to discontent and rebellion, and so cause internecine war, in which France will come in and offer "protection" to all rebels. Trulya noble "mission" for a great and enlightened European nation!

After acknowledging again and again the sovereign at Antanànarìvo as"Queen of Madagascar, " the French papers have lately begun to style HerMajesty "Queen of the Hovas, " as if there were not a dozen other tribesover whom even the French have never disputed her authority; while theywrite as if the Sàkalàva formed an independent State, with whom they hada perfect right to conclude treaties. More than this: after makingtreaties with at least two sovereigns of Madagascar, accrediting consulsto them and receiving consuls appointed by them, a portion of the Frenchpress has just discovered that the Malagasy are "a barbarous people, "with whom it would be derogatory to France to meet on equal terms. [21]Let us see what this barbarous Malagasy Government has been doing duringthe last few years:--

i. It has put an end to idolatry in the central and other provinces, andwith it a number of cruel and foolish superstitions, together with theuse of the _Tangéna_ poison-ordeal, [22] infanticide, polygamy, and theunrestricted power of divorce. 

ii. It has codified, revised, and printed its laws, abolishing capitalpunishment (formerly carried out in many cruel forms), except for thecrimes of treason and murder. 

iii. It has set free a large portion of the slave population, indeedall African slaves brought from beyond the seas, and has passed laws bywhich no Malagasy can any longer be reduced to slavery for debt or forpolitical offences. 

iv. It has largely limited the old oppressive feudal system of thecountry, and has formed a kind of responsible Ministry, with departmentsof foreign affairs, war, justice, revenue, trade, schools, &c. 

v. It has passed laws for compulsory education throughout the centralprovinces, by which the children in that part of the island are nowbeing educated. 

vi. It has begun to remodel its army, putting it on a basis of shortservice, to which all classes are liable, so as to consolidate its powerover the outlying districts, and bring all the island under the actionof the just and humane laws already described. 

vii. It has made the planting of the poppy illegal, subjecting theoffender to a very heavy fine. 

viii. It has passed several laws forbidding the manufacture andimportation of ardent spirits into Imérina, and is anxious for powers inthe treaties now to be revised to levy a much heavier duty at the ports. 

We need not ask if these are the acts of a barbarous nation, or whetherit would be for the interests of humanity and civilization and progressif the disorderly elements which still remain in the country should beencouraged by foreign interference to break away from the control theyhave so long acknowledged. It is very doubtful whether any Europeannation has made similar progress in such a short period as has this HovaGovernment of Madagascar. 

It may also be remarked that although it has also been the object of theFrench to pose as the friends of the Sàkalàva, whom they represent asdown-trodden, it is a simple matter of fact that for many years pastthese people have been in peaceable subjection to the Hova authority. The system of government allows the local chiefs to retain a good dealof their former influence so long as the suzerainty of the Queen atAntanànarìvo is acknowledged. And a recent traveller through thisnorth-west district, the Rev. W. C. Pickersgill, testifies that oninquiring of every tribe as to whom they paid allegiance, the invariablereply was, "To Ranavàlo-manjàka, Queen of Madagascar. " It is indeedextremely probable that, in counting upon the support of thesenorth-westerly tribes against the central government, the French arereckoning without their host, and will find enemies where they expectallies. [23] In fact, the incident which was one of the chief pretextsfor the revival of these long-dormant claims--the hoisting of theQueen's flag at two places--really shows how well disposed the peopleare to the Hova Government, and how they look to the Queen for justice. 

It will perhaps be asked, Have we any diplomatic standing-ground forfriendly intervention on behalf of the Malagasy? I think there are atleast two considerations which--altogether apart from our commercial andpolitical interests in the freedom of the country, and what we have donefor it in various ways--give us a right to speak in this question. Oneis, that there has for many years past been an understanding between theGovernments of France and England that neither would take action withregard to Madagascar without previous consultation with each other. [24]We are then surely entitled to speak if the independence of the islandis threatened. Another reason is, that we are to a great extent pledgedto give the Hova Government some support by the words spoken by ourSpecial Envoy to the Queen Ranavàlona last year. Vice-Admiral Gore-Jonesthen repeated the assurance of the understanding above-mentioned, andencouraged the Hova Government to consolidate their authority on thewest coast, and, in fact, his language stimulated them to take thataction there which the French have made a pretext for their presentinterference. [25]

In taking such a line of action England seeks no selfish ends. We do notcovet a foot of Madagascar territory; we ask no exclusive privileges;but I do maintain that what we have done for Madagascar, and the part wehave taken in her development and advancement, gives us a claim andimposes on us an obligation to stand forward on her behalf against thosewho would break her unity and consequently her progress. The French willhave no easy task to conquer the country if they persist in theirdemands; the Malagasy will not yield except to overwhelming force, andit will prove a war bringing heavy cost and little honour to France. 

May I not appeal to all right-minded and generous Frenchmen that theirinfluence should also be in the direction of preserving the freedom ofthis nation?--one of the few dark peoples who have shown an unusualreceptivity for civilization and Christianity, who have already advancedthemselves so much, and who will still, if left undisturbed, become oneunited and enlightened nation. 

It will be to the lasting disgrace of France if she stirs up aggressivewar, and so throws back indefinitely all the remarkable progress made bythe Malagasy during the past few years; and it will be hardly less toour own discredit if we, an insular nation, jealous of the inviolabilityof our own island, show no practical sympathy with another insularpeople, and do not use every means that can be employed to preserve toMadagascar its independence and its liberties. 

 JAMES SIBREE, Jun. 

FOOTNOTES:

[11] The single act which led to the revival of these long-forgottenclaims upon the north-west coast, was the hoisting of the Queen's flagby two native Sàkalàva chieftains in their villages. These were hauleddown, and carried away in a French gun-boat, and the flag-staves cut up. 

[12] This last claim must be preferred either in perfect ignorance ofwhat the 1868 treaty really is, or as an attempt to throw dust in theeyes of the newspaper-reading public. 

[13] It is true that during these seventy years various edicts claimingthe country we issued by Louis XIV. ; but as the French during all thattime did not attempt to occupy a single foot of territory in Madagascar, these grandiloquent proclamations can hardly be considered as of muchvalue. As has been remarked, French pretensions were greatest when theiractual authority was least. 

[14] See "Précis sur les Etablissements Français formés à Madagascar. "Paris, 1836, p. 4. 

[15] For fuller details as to the character of French settlements inMadagascar, their gross mismanagement and bad treatment of the people, see Statement of the Madagascar Committee; and _Souvenirs deMadagascar_, par M. Le Dr. H. Lacaze: Paris, 1881, p. Xviii. 

[16] The italics are my own. 

[17] See also letter of Bishop Ryan, late of Mauritius, _Daily News_, Dec. 16. 

[18] See _Daily News_, Nov. 30 and Dec. 1; _La Liberté_, Nov. 29, and_Le Parlement_ of same date. Both these French journals speak of an "Actby which the Tanànarivo Government cancelled the Treaty of 1868" (_LeParlement_), and of its being "annulled by Queen Ranavàlona of her ownauthority" (_La Liberté_). It is only necessary to say that no such"Act" ever had any existence, save in the fertile brains of Frenchjournalists, and it is now brought forward apparently with a view toexcite animosity towards the Malagasy in the minds of their readers. 

[19] _E. G. , The Manchester Guardian_, Dec. 1st. , 5th. , and 6th. 

[20] Almost all Malagasy words for military tactics and rank are ofEnglish origin, so are many of the words used for building operations, and the influence of England is also shown by the fact that almost allthe words connected with education and literature are from us, such asschool, class, lesson, pen, copybook, pencil, slate, book, gazette, press, print, proof, capital, period, &c. , grammar, geography, addition, &c. 

[21] See _Le Parlement_, Dec. 15, and other French papers. 

[22] Among the many unfair statements of the Parisian press is anarticle in _Le Rappel_, of Oct. 29, copied by many other papers, inwhich this Tangéna ordeal is described as if it was now a practice ofthe Malagasy, the intention being, of course, to lead its readers tolook upon them as still barbarous; the fact being that its use has beenobsolete ever since 1865 (Art. XVIII. Of English Treaty), and itspractice is a capital offence, as a form of treason. The Malagasy Envoysare represented as saying that their Supreme Court often condemnedcriminals to death by its use!

[23] See Tract No. II. Of the Madagascar Committee. 

[24] See Lord Granville's speech in reply to the address of theMadagascar Committee, Nov. 28. 

[25] The Admiral, so it is reported on good authority, congratulated theQueen and her Government on having solved the question of Madagascar byshowing that the Hova could govern it. He also said that France andEngland were in perfect accord on this point, and on the wisdom ofrecognizing Queen Ranavàlona as sovereign of the whole island. See_Daily News_, Dec. 14. This will no doubt be confirmed by thepublication of the official report which has been asked for by Mr. G. Palmer, M. P. 

THE RELIGIOUS FUTURE OF THE WORLD. 

PART THE FIRST. 

I. 

I suppose there are few students of man and of society to whom thepresent religious condition and apparent religious prospect of the worldcan seem very satisfactory. If there is any lesson clear from history itis this; that, in every age religion has been the main stay both ofprivate life and of the public order, --"the substance of humanity, " asQuinet well expresses it, "whence issue, as by so many necessaryconsequences, political institutions, the arts, poetry, philosophy, and, up to a certain point, even the sequence of events. "[26] The existingcivilization of Europe and America--I use the word civilization in itshighest and widest sense, and mean by it especially the laws, traditions, beliefs, and habits of thought and action, wherebyindividual family and social life is governed--is mainly the work ofChristianity. The races which inhabit the vast Asiatic Continent arewhat they are chiefly from the influence of Buddhism and Mohammedanism, of the Brahminical, Confucian, and Taosean systems. In the fetichism ofthe rude tribes of Africa, still in the state of the childhood ofhumanity, we have what has been called the _parler enfantin_ ofreligion:--it is that rude and unformed speech, as of spiritual babesand sucklings, which principally makes them to differ from theanthropoid apes of their tropical forests: "un peuple est compté pourquelque chose le jour où il s'elève a la pensée de Dieu. "[27] But thespirit of the age is unquestionably hostile to all these creeds from thehighest to the lowest. In Europe there is a movement--of its breadth andstrength I shall say more presently--the irreconcilable hostility ofwhich to "all religion and all religiosity, " to use the words of thelate M. Louis Blanc, is written on its front. Thought is the mostcontagious thing in the world, and in these days pain unchanged, butwith no firm ground of faith, no "hope both sure and stedfast, and whichentereth into that within the vail, " no worthy object of desire wherebyman may erect himself above himself, whence he may derive anindefectible rule of conduct, a constraining incentive toself-sacrifice, an adequate motive for patient endurance, --such is thevision of the coming time, as it presents itself to many of the mostthoughtful and competent observers. 

II. 

In these circumstances it is natural that so thoughtful and competent anobserver as the author of "Ecce Homo" should take up his parable. Andassuredly few who have read that beautiful book, so full of loftymusing, and so rich in pregnant suggestion, however superficial andinconsequent, will have opened the volume which he has recently given tothe world without high expectation. It will be remembered that in hispreface to his former work, he tells us that he was dissatisfied withthe current conceptions of Christ, and unable to rest content without adefinite opinion regarding Him, and so was led to trace His biographyfrom point to point, with a view of accepting those conclusions aboutHim which the facts themselves, weighed critically, appeared to warrant. And now, after the lapse of well-nigh two decades, the author of "EcceHomo" comes forward to consider the religious outlook of the world. Surely a task for which he is in many respects peculiarly well-fitted. Wide knowledge of the modern mind, broad sympathies, keen and delicateperceptions, freedom from party and personal ends, and a power ofgraceful and winning statement must, upon all hands, be conceded to him. What such a man thinks on such a subject, is certain to be interesting;and, whether we agree with it or not, is as certain to be suggestive. Ipropose, therefore, first of all to consider what may be learnt aboutthe topic with which I am concerned, from this new book on "NaturalReligion, " and I shall then proceed to deal with it in my own way. 

The author of "Natural Religion" starts with the broad assumption that"supernaturalism" is discredited by modern "science. " I may perhaps, inpassing, venture to express my regret that in an inquiry demanding, fromits nature and importance, the utmost precision of which human speech iscapable, the author has in so few cases clearly and rigidly limited thesense of the terms which he employs. "Supernaturalism, " for example, isa word which may bear many different meanings; which, as a matter offact, does bear, I think, for me a very different meaning from thatwhich it bears for the author of "Natural Religion. " So, again, "science" in this book, is tacitly assumed to denote physical scienceonly: and what an assumption, as though there were no other sciencesthan the physical! This in passing. I shall have to touch again uponthese points hereafter. For the present let us regard the scope and aimof this discourse of Natural Religion, as the author states it. He findsthat the supernatural portion of Christianity, as of all religions, iswidely considered to be discredited by physical science. "Two oppositetheories of the Universe" (p. 26) are before men. The one propounded byChristianity "is summed up, " as he deems, "in the three propositions, that a Personal Will is the cause of the Universe, that that Will isperfectly benevolent, that that Will has sometimes interfered bymiracles with the order of the Universe" (p. 13). The other he states asfollows:--"Science opposes to God Nature. When it denies God it deniesthe existence of any power beyond or superior to Nature; and it may denyat the same time anything like a _cause_ of Nature. It believes incertain laws of co-existence and sequence in phenomena, and in denyingGod it means to deny that anything further can be known" (p. 17). "Forwhat is God--so the argument runs--but a hypothesis, which religious menhave mistaken for a demonstrated reality? And is it not preciselyagainst such premature hypotheses that science most strenuouslyprotests? That a Personal Will is the cause of the Universe--this mightstand very well as a hypothesis to work with, until facts should eitherconfirm it, or force it to give way to another, either different or atleast modified. That this Personal Will is benevolent, and is shown tobe so by the facts of the Universe, which evince a providential care forman and other animals--this is just one of those plausibilities whichpassed muster before scientific method was understood, but modernscience rejects it as unproved. Modern science holds that there may bedesign in the Universe, but that to penetrate the design is, andprobably always will be, beyond the power of the human understanding. That this Personal Will has on particular occasions revealed itself bybreaking through the customary order of the Universe, and performingwhat are called miracles--this, it is said, is one of those legends o£which histories were full, until a stricter view of evidence wasintroduced, and the modern critical spirit sifted thoroughly the annalsof the world" (p. 11). These, in our author's words, are the twoopposite theories of the Universe before the world: two "mortallyhostile" (p. 13) theories; the one "the greatest of all affirmations;""the other the most fatal of all negations, " (p. 26) and the latter, ashe discerns, is everywhere making startling progress. "The extension ofthe _methods_ of physical science to the whole domain of humanknowledge, " he notes as the most important "change of system in theintellectual world" (p. 7). "No one, " he continues, "needs to be toldwhat havoc this physical method is making with received systems, and itproduces a sceptical disposition of mind towards primary principleswhich have been of steam locomotion and electric telegraphs, of cheapliterature and ubiquitous journalism, ideas travel with the speed oflight, and the influences which are warring against the theologies ofEurope are certainly acting as powerful solvents upon the religioussystems of the rest of the world. But apart from the loud and fiercenegation of the creed of Christendom which is so striking a feature ofthe present day, there is among those who nominally adhere to it a vastamount of unaggressive doubt. Between the party which avowedly aims atthe destruction of "all religion and all religiosity, " at the deliveryof man from what it calls the "nightmare" or "the intellectual whoredom"of spiritualism, and those who cling with undimmed faith to the religionof their fathers, there is an exceeding great multitude who are properlydescribed as sceptics. It is even more an age of doubt than of denial. As Chateaubriand noted, when the century was yet young, "we are nolonger living in times when it avails to say 'Believe and do notexamine:' people will examine whether we like it or not. " And sincethese words were written, people have been busily examining in everydepartment of human thought, and especially in the domain of religion. In particular Christianity has been made the subject of the mostsearching scrutiny. How indeed could we expect that it should escape?The greatest fact in the annals of the modern world, it naturallyinvites the researches of the historian. The basis of the system ofethics still current amongst us, it peremptorily claims the attention ofthe sociologist. The fount of the metaphysical conceptions accepted inEurope, until in the last century, before the "uncreating word" ofLockian sensism, "Philosophy that leaned on Heaven before Sinks to her second cause, and is no more, "

it challenges the investigation of the psychologist. The practicalresult of these inquiries must be allowed to be, to a large extent, negative. In many quarters, where thirty or forty years ago we shouldcertainly have found acquiescence, honest if dull, in the receivedreligious systems of Europe, we now discern incredulity, more or lessfar-reaching, about "revealed religion" altogether, and, at the best, "faint possible Theism, " in the place of old-fashioned orthodoxy. Andearnest men, content to bear as best they may their own burden of doubtand disappointment, do not dissemble to themselves that the immediateoutlook is dark and discouraging. Like the French monarch they discernthe omens of the deluge to come after them; a vast shipwreck of allfaith, and all virtue, of conscience, of God; brute force, embodied inan omnipotent State, the one ark likely to escape submersion in thepitiless waters. A world from which the high sanctions of religion, hitherto the binding principle of society, are relegated to the domainof old wives' fables; a march through life with its brief dream ofpleasure and long reality of thought to lie deeper than _all_ systems. Those current abstractions, which make up all the morality and all thephilosophy of most people, have been brought under suspicion. Mind andmatter, duties and rights, morality and expediency, honour and interest, virtue and vice--all these words, which seemed once to expresselementary and certain realities, now strike us as just the words which, thrown into the scientific crucible, might dissolve at once. It is thusnot merely philosophy which is discredited, but just that homely andpopular wisdom by which common life is guided. This too, it appears, instead of being the sterling product of plain experience, is theoverflow of an immature philosophy, the redundance of the uncontrolledspeculations of thinkers who were unacquainted with scientific method"(p. 8). And then, moreover, there is that great political movement whichhas so largely and directly affected the course of events and theorganization of society on the Continent of Europe, and which in lessmeasure, and with more covert operation, has notably modified our ownways of thinking and acting in this country. Now the Revolution in itsultimate or Jacobin phase, is the very manifestation, in the publicorder, of the tendency which in the intellectual calls itself"scientific. " It bitterly and contemptuously rejects the belief in thesupernatural hitherto accepted in Europe. It wages implacable war uponthe ancient theology of the world. "It delights in declaring itselfatheistic"[28] (p. 37). It has "a quarrel with theology as a doctrine. 'Theology, ' it says, even if not exactly opposed to social improvement, is a superstition, and as such allied to ignorance and conservatism. Granting that its precepts are good, it enforces them by legends andfictitious stories which can only influence the uneducated, andtherefore in order to preserve its influence it must needs opposeeducation. Nor are these stories a mere excrescence of theology, buttheology itself. For theology is neither more nor less than a doctrineof the supernatural. It proclaims a power behind nature whichoccasionally interferes with natural laws. It proclaims another worldquite different from this in which we live, a world into which what iscalled the soul is believed to pass at death. It believes, in short, ina number of things which students of Nature know nothing about, andwhich science puts aside either with respect or with contempt. 

These supernatural doctrines are not merely a part of theology, stillless separable from theology, but theology consists exclusively of them. Take away the supernatural Person, miracles, and the spiritual world, you take away theology at the same time, and nothing is left but simpleNature and simple Science" (p. 39). Such, as the author of "Ecce Homo"considers, is "the question between religion and science" now before theworld. And his object[29] in his new work is not to inquire whether the"negative conclusions so often drawn from modern scientific discoveriesare warranted, " still less to refute them, but to estimate "the preciseamount of destruction caused by them, " admitting, for the sake ofargument, that they are true. His own judgment upon their truth heexpressly reserves, with the cautious remarks, that "it is not thegreatest scientific authorities who are so confident in negation, butrather the inferior men who echo their opinions:"[30] that "it is not onthe morrow of great discoveries that we can best judge of their negativeeffect upon ancient beliefs:" and that he is "disposed to agree withthose who think that in the end the new views of the Universe will notgratify an extreme party quite so much as is now supposed. "[31]

The argument, then, put forward in "Natural Religion, " and put forward, as I understand the author, tentatively, and for what it is worth, andby no means as expressing his own assured convictions, is this:--that tobanish the supernatural from the human mind is "not to destroy theologyor religion or even Christianity, but in some respects to revive andpurify all three:"[32] that supernaturalism is not of the essence but ofthe accidents of religion; that "the _unmiraculous_ part of theChristian tradition has a value which was long hidden from view by theblaze of supernaturalism, " and "that so much will this unmiraculous partgain by being brought, for the first time into full light ... That faithmay be disposed to think even that she is well rid of miracle, and thatshe would be indifferent to it, even if she could still believe it" (p. 254). That religion in some form or another is essential to the world, the author apparently no more doubts than I do: indeed he expresslywarns us that "at this moment we are threatened with a generaldissolution of states from the decay of religion" (p. 211). "If religionfails us, " these are his concluding words, "it is only when human lifeitself is proved to be worthless. It may be doubtful whether life isworth living, but if religion be what it has been described in thisbook, the principle by which alone life is redeemed from secularity andanimalism, ... Can it be doubtful that if we are to live at all we mustlive, and civilization can only live, by religion?" And now let usproceed to see what is the hope set before us in this book: and considerwhether the Natural Religion, which it unfolds, is such a religion asthe world can live by, as civilization can live by. 

III. 

The author of "Natural Religion, " it will be remembered, assumes for thepurposes of his argument, that the supernatural portion of Christianityis discredited, is put aside by physical science; that, as M. Renan hassomewhere tersely expressed it, "there is no such thing as thesupernatural, but from the beginning of being everything in the world ofphenomena was preceded by regular laws. " Let us consider what thisinvolves. It involves the elimination from our creed, not only of themiraculous incidents in the history of the Founder of Christianity, including, of course, His Resurrection--the fundamental fact, uponwhich, from St. Paul's time to our own, His religion has been supposedto rest--but all the beliefs, aspirations, hopes, attaching to thatreligion as a system of grace. It destroys theology, because it destroysthat idea of God from which theology starts, and which it professes tounfold. This being so, it might appear that religion is necessarilyextinguished too. Certainly, in the ordinary sense which the word bearsamong us, it is. "Religio, " writes St. Thomas Aquinas, "est virtusreddens debitum honorem Deo. "[33] And so Cardinal Newman, somewhat morefully, "By religion I mean the knowledge of God, of His will, and of ourduties towards Him;" and he goes on to say that "there are three mainchannels which Nature furnishes us for our acquiring thisknowledge--viz. , our own minds, the voice of mankind, and the course ofthe world, that is, of human life and human affairs. "[34] But that, ofcourse, is very far from being what the author of "Ecce Homo" means byreligion, and by natural religion, in his new book. Its key-note isstruck in the words of Wordsworth cited on its title-page:--" We live byadmiration. "[35] Religion he understands to be an "ardent condition ofthe feelings, " "habitual and regulated admiration" (p. 129), "worship ofwhatever in the known Universe appears worthy of worship" (p. 161). "Tohave an individuality, " he teaches, "is to have an ideal, and to have anideal is to have an object of worship: it is to have a religion" (p. 136). "Irreligion, " on the other hand, is defined as "life withoutworship, " and is said to consist in "the absence of habitualadmiration, and in a state of the feelings, not ardent but cold andtorpid" (p. 129). It would appear then that religion, in its new sense, is enthusiasm of well-nigh any kind, but particularly the enthusiasm ofmorality, which is "the religion of right, " the enthusiasm of art, whichis "the religion of beauty, " and the enthusiasm of physical science, which is "the religion of law and of truth" (p. 125). [36] "Art andscience, " we read, "are not secular, and it is a fundamental error tocall them so; they have the nature of religion" (p. 127). "The popularChristianity of the day, in short, is for the artist too melancholy andsedate, and for the man of science too sentimental and superficial; inshort, it is too melancholy for the one, and not melancholy enough forthe other. They become, therefore, dissenters from the existingreligion; sympathizing too little with the popular worship, they worshipby themselves and dispense with outward forms. But they protest at thesame time that, in strictness, they separate from the religious bodiesaround them, only because they know of a purer or a happier religion"(p. 126). It is useful to turn, from time to time, from the abstract tothe concrete, in order to steady and purge our mental vision. Let ustherefore, in passing, gaze upon Théophile Gautier, the high priest ofthe pride of human form, whose unspeakably impure romance has beenpronounced by Mr. Swinburne to be "the holy writ of beauty;" and, on theother, upon Schopenhauer, the most thorough-going and consistent ofphysicists, who reduces all philosophy to a cosmology, and considerwhether, the author of "Ecce Homo" himself being judge, the religion ofthe one can be maintained to be purer or that of the other to behappier, than the most degraded form of popular Christianity. I proceedto his declaration, which naturally follows from what has been said, that the essence of religion is not in theological dogma nor in ethicalpractice. The really religious man, as we are henceforth to conceive ofhim, is, apparently, the man of sentiment. "The substance of religion isculture, " which is "a threefold devotion to Goodness, Beauty, andTruth, " and "the fruit of it the higher life" (p. 145). And the higherlife is "the influence which draws men's thoughts away from theirpersonal existence, making them intensely aware of other existences, towhich it binds them by strong ties, sometimes of admiration, sometimesof awe, sometimes of duty, sometimes of love" (p. 236). And as in theindividual religion is identified with culture, so, "in its publicaspect" "it is identical with civilization" (p. 201), which "expressesthe same threefold religion, shown on a larger scale, in the character, institutions, and ways of life of nations" (p. 202). "The greatcivilized community" is "the modern city of God" (p. 204). 

But what God? Clearly not that God spoken of by St. Paul--or the authorof the Epistle to the Hebrews, whoever he was--"the God of Peace thatbrought again from the dead our Lord Jesus Christ, that Great Shepherdof the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant;" for thatGod, the Creator, Witness, and Judge of men--is assuredly _Deusabsconditus_, a hidden God, belonging to "the supernatural;" and thehypothesis upon which the author of "Ecce Homo" proceeds in his new workis that men have "ceased to believe in anything beyond Nature" (p. 76). The best thing for them to do, therefore, he suggests, if they must havea God, is to deify Nature. But "Nature, considered as the residuum thatis left after the elimination of everything supernatural, comprehendsman with all his thoughts and aspirations, not less than the forms ofthe material world" (p. 78). God, therefore, in the new NaturalReligion, is to be conceived of as Physical "Nature, including Humanity"(p. 69), or "the unity which all things compose in virtue of theuniversal presence of the same laws" (p. 87), which would seem to be nomore than a Pantheistic expression, its exact value being all thatexists, the totality of forces, of beings, and of forms. The author of"Natural Religion" does not seem to be sanguine that this new Deity willwin the hearts of men. He anticipates, indeed, the objection "that whenyou substitute Nature for God you take a thing heartless and pitilessinstead of love and goodness. " To this he replies, "If we abandoned ourbelief in the supernatural, it would not be only inanimate Nature thatwould be left to us; we should not give ourselves over, as is oftenrhetorically described, to the mercy of merciless powers--winds andwaves, earthquakes, volcanoes, and fire. The God we should believe inwould not be a passionless, utterly inhuman power. " "Nature, in thesense in which we are now using the word, includes humanity, andtherefore, so far from being pitiless, includes all the pity thatbelongs to the whole human race, and all the pity that they haveaccumulated, and, as it were, capitalised in institutions political, social and ecclesiastical, through countless generations" (pp. 68-9). 

He, then, who would not "shock modern views of the Universe" (p. 157)must thus think of the Deity. And so Atheism acquires a new meaning. "Itis, " we read, "a disbelief in the _existence_ of God--that is, adisbelief in _any_ regularity in the Universe to which a man mustconform himself under penalties" (p. 27); a definition which surely is alittle hard upon the _libres-penseurs_, as taking the bread out of theirmouths. I remember hearing, not long ago, in Paris, of a young Radicaldiplomatist who, with the good taste which characterizes the school nowdominant in French politics, took occasion to mention to a well-knownecclesiastical statesman that he was an Atheist. "O de l'athéisme àvotre âge, " said the Nuncio, with a benign smile: "pourquoi, quandl'impiété suffit et ne vous engage à rien?" But with the newsignification imposed upon the word, a profession of Atheism wouldpledge one in quite another sense: it would be equivalent to aprofession of insanity; for where, except among the wearers ofstrait-waistcoats or the occupants of padded rooms, shall we find a manwho does not believe in some regularity in the universe to which he mustconform himself under penalties? But let us follow the author of"Natural Religion" a step further in his inquiry. "In what relation doesthis religion stand to our Christianity, to our churches, and religiousdenominations?" (p. 139). Certainly, we may safely agree with him that"it has a difficulty in identifying itself with any of the organizedsystems, " and as safely that the "conception of a spiritual city, " of an"organ of civilization, " of an "interpreter of human society, " is"precisely what is now needed" (p. 223). "The tide of thought, scepticism, and discovery, which has set in ... Must be warded off theinstitutions which it attacks as recklessly as if its own existence didnot depend upon them. It introduces everywhere a sceptical condition ofmind, which it recommends as the only way to real knowledge; and yet ifsuch scepticism became practical, if large communities came to regardevery question in politics and law as absolutely open, theirinstitutions would dissolve, and science, among other things, would beburied in the ruin. Modern thought brings into vogue a speculativeNihilism ... But unintentionally it creates at the same time a practicalNihilism.... There is a mine under modern society which, if we considerit, has been the necessary result of the abeyance in recent times of theidea of the Church" (p. 208). In fact, as our author discerns, theexistence of civilization is at stake. "It can live only by religion"(p. 262). "On religion depends the whole fabric of civilization, all thefuture of mankind" (p. 218). The remedy which he suggests is that theNatural Religion which we have been considering, the new "universalreligion, " should "be concentrated in a doctrine, " should "embody itselfin a Church" (p. 207). "This Church, " we are told, "exists already, avast communion of all who are inspired by the culture and civilizationof the age. But it is unconscious, and perhaps, if it could attain toconsciousness, it might organize itself more deliberately andeffectively" (p. 212). The precise mode of such organization is notindicated, but its main function it appears would be to diffuse an"adequate doctrine of civilization, " and especially to teach "science, "in "itself a main part of religion, as the grand revelation of God inthese later times, " and also the theory "of the gradual development ofhuman society, which alone can explain to us the past state of affairs, give us the clue to history, save us from political aberrations, andpoint the direction of progress" (p. 209). Of the _clerus_ of the newNatural Church we read as follows:--

 "If we really believe that a case can be made out for civilization, this case must be presented by popular teachers, and their most indispensable qualification will be independence. They perhaps will be able to show, that happiness or even universal comfort is not, and never has been, within quite so easy reach, that it cannot be taken by storm, and that as for the institutions left us from the past they are no more diabolical than they are divine, being the fruit of necessary development far more than of free-will or calculation. Such teachers would be the free clergy of modern civilization. It would be their business to investigate and to teach the true relation of man to the universe and to society, the true Ideal he should worship, the true vocation of particular nations, the course which the history of mankind has taken hitherto, in order that upon a full view of what is possible and desirable men may live and organize themselves for the future. In short, the modern Church is to do what Hebrew prophecy did in its fashion for the Jews, and what bishops and Popes did according to their lights for the Roman world when it laboured in the tempest, and for barbaric tribes first submitting themselves to be taught. Another grand object of the modern Church would be to teach and organize the outlying world, which for the first time in history now lies prostrate at the feet of Christian civilization. Here are the ends to be gained. These once recognized, the means are to be determined by their fitness alone" (p. 221). 

IV. 

So much must suffice to indicate the essential features of the religionwhich would be left us after the elimination of the supernatural. Andnow we are to consider whether this religion will suffice for the wantsof the world; whether it is a religion "which shall appeal to the senseof duty as forcibly, preach righteousness and truth, justice and mercy, as solemnly and as exclusively as Christianity itself does" (p. 157). Surely to state the question is enough. In fact the author of "NaturalReligion" quite recognizes that "to many, if not most, of those who feelthe need of religion, all that has been offered in this book willperhaps at first seem offered in derision" (p. 260), and frankly ownsthat "whether it deserves to be called a faith at all, whether itjustifies men in living, and in calling others into life, may bedoubted" (p. 66). He tells us that "the thought of a God revealed inNature, " which he has suggested, does not seem to him "by any meanssatisfactory, or worthy to replace the Christian view, or even as acommencement from which we must rise by logical necessity to theChristian view" (p. 25) and it must be hard not to agree with him. It isdifficult to suppose that any one who considers the facts o£ life, whocontemplates not the _individua vaga_ of theories, but the men and womenof this working-day world can think otherwise. Surely no one who reallysurveys mankind as they are, as they have been in the past, and, so faras we are able to judge, will be in the future, can suppose that thisNatural Religion, even if embodied in a Natural Church, and equippedwith "a free clergy, " will meet their wants, or win their affections, orsatisfy those "strange yearnings" of which we read in Plato, and which, in one form or another, stir every human soul; which we may trace inthe chatterings of the poor Neapolitan crone to her Crucifix, or in thehallelujahs of "Happy Sal" at a Salvationist "Holiness Meeting, " assurely as in the profoundest speculations of the Angelic Doctor, or inthe loftiest periods of Bossuet. Can any one, in this age of all others, when, as the revelations of the physical world bring home to us sooverwhelmingly what Pascal calls "the abyss of the boundless immensityof which I know nothing, and you know nothing, " man sinks to aninsignificance which, the apt word of the author of "Natural Religion""petrifies" him, can--can any one believe that the compound ofPantheistic Positivism and Christian sentiment--if we may so account ofit--set forth in these brilliant pages, will avail to redeem men fromanimalism and secularity? But, indeed, we need not here rest in thedomain of mere speculation. The experiment has been tried. Not quite acentury ago, when Chaumette's "Goddess of Reason, " and Robespierre's"Supreme Being, " had disappeared from the altars of France, LaReveillère-Lepeaux essayed to introduce a Natural Religion under thename of Theophilanthropy[37] to satisfy the spiritual needs of thecountry over which he ruled as a member of the Directory, CherninDupontés, Dupont de Nemours and Bernardin de St. Pierre constitutingwith himself the four Evangelists of the new cult. The first mentionedof these must, indeed, be regarded as its inventor, and his "Manuel desThéophilanthrophiles" supplies the fullest exposition of it. But it wasLa Reveillère-Lepeaux whose influence gave form and actuality to thespeculations of Chemin, and whose credit obtained for the new sect theuse of some dozen of the principal churches of Paris, and of the choirand organ of Notre Dame. The formal _début_ of the new religion may, perhaps, be dated from the 1st of May, 1797, when La Reveillère read tothe Institute a memoir in which he justified its introduction upongrounds very similar to those urged in our own day against "thetheological view of the universe. " Moreover, he insisted thatCatholicism was opposed to sound morality, that its worship wasantisocial, and that its clergy--whom he contemptuously denominated _laprêtraille_, and whom he did his best to exterminate--were the enemiesof the human race. In its leading features the new Church resembled veryclosely the system which we have just been considering, offered to theworld by the author of "Ecce Homo. " It identified the Deity withNature:[38] religion, considered subjectively, with sentiment, andobjectively, with civilization; and it regarded Atheists and theadherents of all forms of faith--with the sole exception of Catholics--as eligible for its communion. Its dogmas, if one may so speak, were ahotchpotch of fine phrases about beauty, truth, right, and the like, culled from writers of all creeds and of no creed. Its chief publicfunction consisted in the singing of a hymn to "the Father of theUniverse, " to a tune composed by one Gossee, a musician much in vogue atthat time, and in lections chosen from Confucius, Vyasa, Zoroaster, Theognis, Cleanthes, Aristotle, Plato, La Bruyère, Fénélon, Voltaire, Rousseau, Young, and Franklin, the Sacred Scriptures of Christianitybeing carefully excluded on account, as may be supposed, of theiralleged opposition to "sound morality. " The priests of the "NaturalReligion" were vested in sky-blue tunics, extending from the neck to thefeet, and fastened at the waist by a red girdle, over which was a whiterobe open before. Such was the costume in which La Reveillére-Lepeauxexhibited himself to his astonished countrymen, and having themisfortune to be--as we are told--"petit, bossu, et puant, " theexhibition obtained no great success. It must be owned, however, thatthe Natural Church did its best to fill the void caused by thedisappearance of the Christian religion. It even went so far as toprovide substitutes for the Sacraments of Catholicism. At the rite whichtook the place of baptism, the father himself officiated, and, in lieuof the questions prescribed in the Roman Ritual, asked the godfather, "Do you promise before God and men to teach N. Or M. From the dawn ofhis reason to adore God, to cherish (_chérir_) his fellows, and to makehimself useful to his country?" And the godfather, holding the childtowards heaven, replied, "I promise. " Then followed the inevitable"discourse, " and a hymn of which the concluding lines were:

 "Puisse un jour cet enfant honorer sa patrie, Et s'applaudir d'avoir vécu. "

So much must suffice as to the Natural Church during the time that itexisted among men as a fact, or, in the words of the author of "EcceHomo, " as "an attempt to treat the subject of religion in a practicalmanner. " But, backed as it was by the influence of a despoticgovernment, and _felix opportunitate_ as it must be deemed to have beenin the period of its establishment, very few were added to it. Whereupon, as the author of "Ecce Homo" relates, not without a touch ofgentle irony, La Reveillère confided to Talleyrand[39] hisdisappointment at his ill-success. "'His propaganda made no way, ' hesaid, 'What was he to do?' he asked. The ex-bishop politely condoledwith him, feared indeed it was a difficult task to found a newreligion--more difficult than could be imagined, so difficult that hehardly knew what to advise! 'Still'--he went on, after a moment'sreflection--'there is one plan which you might at least try: I shouldrecommend you to be crucified, and to rise again the third day'" (p. 181). Is the author of "Ecce Homo" laughing in his sleeve at us? Surelyhis keen perception must have suggested to him, as he wrote thispassage, "mutato nomine, deme. " It may be confidently predictedthat, unless he is prepared to carry out Talleyrand's suggestion, theNatural Religion which he exhibits "to meet the wants of a scepticalage" will prove even a more melancholy failure than it proved whenoriginally introduced a century ago by La Reveillère-Lepeaux. 

V. 

Are we then thrown back on Pessimism--"the besetting difficulty ofNatural Religion" (p. 104), as the author of "Ecce Homo" confesses? Isthat after all the key to the enigma of life? And is the prospect beforethe world that "universal darkness" which is to supervene, when, in thenoble verse of the great moral poet of the last century--the noblest heever wrote--

 "Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares morality expires; Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine, Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine. "

I venture to think otherwise. And as with regard to the subject of whichI am writing, it may be said that "egotism is true modesty, " I shallventure to say why I think so, even at the risk of wearying by atwice-told tale, for I shall have to go over well-worn ground, and Imust of necessity tread more or less in the footprints of others. Thereasons which satisfy me have satisfied, and do satisfy, intellects farmore subtle, acute, and penetrating than mine. All I can do is to statethem in the way in which they present themselves to my own mind. I shallbe genuine, if not original, although indeed I might here shelter myselfunder a dictum--profoundly true it is--of Mr. Ruskin: "That virtue oforiginality that men so strive after is not newness, as they vainlythink (there is nothing new) it is only genuineness. "

Cardinal Newman, in writing to me a few weeks ago, suggests the pregnantinquiry, "Which is the greater assumption? that we can do withoutreligion, or that we can find a substitute for Christianity?" I havehitherto been surveying the substitute for Christianity which the authorof "Ecce Homo" has exhibited to the world in his new book. I shall nowbriefly consider the question whether the need for such a substitutedoes in truth exist. The book, as I have already more than once noted, assumes that it does. It takes "the scientific view frankly at itsworst"[40] as throwing discredit upon the belief "that a Personal Willis the cause of the Universe, that that Will is perfectly benevolent, that that Will has sometimes interfered by miracles with the order ofthe Universe, " which three propositions are considered by its author tosum up the theological view of the universe. "If, " he writes, "thesepropositions exhaust [that view] and science throws discredit upon allof them, evidently theology and science are irreconcilable, and thecontest between them must end in the destruction of one or the other"(p. 13). I remark in passing, first, that no theologian--certainly noCatholic theologian--would accept these three propositions as exhaustingthe theological view of the universe; and secondly, that if we wereobliged to admit that physical science throws discredit upon that view, it would by no means necessarily follow that physical science andtheology are irreconcilable, for ampler knowledge might remove thediscredit. 

 "What do we see? Each man a space, Of some few yards before his face. Can that the whole wide plan explain? Ah no! Consider it again. "

But is it true, as a matter of fact, that physical science throwsdiscredit upon these three propositions? Let us examine this question alittle. I must of necessity be brief in the limits to which I am hereconfined, and I must use the plainest language, for I am writing not forthe school but for the general reader. Brevity and plainness of speechdo not, however, necessarily imply superficiality, which, in truth, isnot unfrequently veiled by a prolix parade of pompous technicalities. 

First, then, as to causation. The shepherd in the play, when asked byTouchstone, "Hast any philosophy in thee?" replies, "No more but that Iknow that the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn; that goodpasture makes fat sheep: and that a great cause of the night is lack ofthe sun, " and upon the strength of this knowledge is pronounced by theclown to be "a natural philosopher. " Well, is not in truth the "science"of the mere physicist, however accomplished, _in pari materia_ with thatof honest Corin? He observes certain sequences of facts, certainantecedents and consequents, but of the _nexus_ between them he knows nomore than the most ignorant and foolish of peasants. He talks, indeed, of the laws of Nature, but the expression, convenient as it is in somerespects, and true as it is in a sense--and that the highest--isextremely likely to mislead, as he uses it ordinarily. What he calls alaw of Nature is only an induction from observed phenomena, a formulawhich serves compendiously to express them. As Dr. Mozley has wellobserved in his Bampton Lectures, "we only know of law in Nature, inthe sense of recurrences in Nature, classes of facts, _like_ facts inNature:"[41]

 "In vain the sage with retrospective eye Would from the apparent what conclude the why;"

physical "science has itself proclaimed the truth that we see no causesin nature"[42]--that is to say, in the phenomena of the external world, taken by themselves. We read in Bacci's "Life of St. Philip Neri" thatthe Saint drew men to the service of God by such a subtle irresistibleinfluence as caused those who watched him to cry out in amazement, "Father Philip draws souls, as the magnet draws iron. " The mostaccomplished master of natural science is as little competent to explainthe physical attraction as he is to explain the spiritual. He cannot getbehind the _fact_, and if you press him for the reason of it--if you askhim why the magnet draws iron--the only reason he has to give you is, "Because it does. " It is just as true now as it was when Bishop Butlerwrote in the last century that "the only distinct meaning of the word[natural] is, stated, fixed, or settled, " and it is hard to see how hecan be refuted when, travelling beyond the boundaries of physics, hegoes on to add, "What is natural as much requires and presupposes anintelligent agent to render it so--_i. E. _, to effect it continually, orat stated times--as what is supernatural or miraculous does to effect itfor once. "[43] Then, again, the indications of design in the universemay well speak to us of a Designer, as they spoke three thousand yearsago to the Hebrew poet who wrote the Psalm "_C[oe]li enarrant_, " as theyspoke but yesterday to the severely disciplined intellect of John StuartMill, who, brushing aside the prepossessions and prejudices of alifetime, has recorded his deliberate judgment that "there is a largebalance in favour of the probability of creation by intelligence. "[44]Sir William Thomson, no mean authority upon a question of physicalscience, goes further, and speaks not of "a large balance ofprobability, " but of "overpowering proofs. " "Overpowering proofs, " hetold the British Association, "of intelligence and benevolent design, lie all around us; and if ever perplexities, whether metaphysical orscientific, turn us away from them for a time, they come back upon uswith irresistible force, showing to us through Nature the influence of afree will, and teaching us that all living beings depend upon oneever-acting Creator and Ruler. "[45] And, once more, it is indubitablethat matter is inert until acted upon by force, and that we have noknowledge of any other primary[46] cause of force than will. Whence, asMr. Wallace argues in his well-known work, "it does not seem improbablethat all force may be will-force, and that the whole universe is notmerely dependent upon, but actually is, the will of higher intelligencesor of one Supreme Intelligence. "[47]

If then things are so--as who can disprove?--we may reasonably demur tothe assertion that physical science throws discredit upon the positionthat a Personal Will is the cause of the universe. Let us now glance atthe last of the propositions supposed to be condemned by the researchesof the physicists--namely, that this Personal Will has sometimesinterfered by miracles with the order of the universe. Now, here, as Iintimated in an earlier portion of this article, I find myself atvariance with the author of "Natural Religion" upon a question, and avery important question, of terminology. I do not regard thesupernatural as an interference with, or violation of, the order of theuniverse. I adopt, unreservedly, the doctrine that "nothing is that errsfrom law. " The phenomena which we call supernatural and those which wecall natural, I view as alike the expression of the Divine Will: a Willwhich acts not capriciously, nor, as the phrase is, arbitrarily, but bylaw, "attingens a fine usque ad finem, fortiter suaviterque disponensomnia. " And so the theologians identify the Divine Will with the DivineReason. Thus St. Augustine, "Lex æterna est ratio divina vel voluntasDei, "[48] and St. Thomas Aquinas, "Lex æterna summa ratio in Deoexistens. "[49] It is by virtue of this law that the sick are healed, whether by the prayer of faith or the prescription of a physician, bythe touch of a relic or by a shock from a galvanic battery; that theSaint draws souls and that the magnet draws iron. The most ordinaryso-called "operations of Nature" may be truly described in the words ofSt. Gregory as God's daily miracles;[50] and those events, commonlydenominated miraculous, of which we read in the Sacred Scriptures, inthe Lives of the Saints, and elsewhere, may as truly be called natural, using the word in what, as I just now observed, Bishop Butler notes asits only distinct meaning--namely, stated, fixed, or settled;[51] forthey are the normal manifestations of the order of Grace--an orderexternal to us, invisible, inaccessible to our senses and reasonings, but truly existing and governed by laws, which, like the laws of thephysical and the intellectual order, are ordained by the SupremeLawgiver. Once purge the mind of anthropomorphic conceptions as to theDivine Government, and the notion of any essential opposition betweenthe natural and the supernatural disappears. Sanctity, which meanslikeness to God, a partaking of the Divine nature, is as truly a forceas light or heat, and enters as truly into the great order of theuniverse. There is a passage in M. Renan's "Vie de Jésus" worth citingin this connection. "La nature lui obéit, " he writes; "mais elle obéitaussi à quiconque croit et prie; la foi peut tout. Il faut se rappelerque nulle idée des lois de la nature ne venait, dans son esprit ni danscelui de ses auditeurs, marquer la limite de l'impossible.... Ces motsde 'surhumain' et de 'surnaturel, ' empruntés à notre théologie mesquine, n'avaient pas de sens dans la haute conscience religieuse de Jésus. Pourlui, la nature et le développement de l'humanité n'étaient pas desrègnes limités hors de Dieu, de chétives réalités assujetties aux loisd'un empirisme désesperant. Il n'y avait pas pour lui de surnaturel, caril n'y avait pas pour lui de nature. Ivre de l'amour infini, il oubliaitla lourde chaîne qui tient l'esprit captif; il franchissait d'un bondl'abîme, infranchissable pour la plupart, que la médiocrité des facultéshumaines trace entre l'homme et Dieu. "[52] These words seem to me toexpress a great truth. The religious mind conceives of the natural, notas opposed to the supernatural, but as an outlying province of it; ofthe economy of the physical world as the complement of the economy ofGrace. And to those who thus think, the great objection urged by so manyphilosophers, from Spinoza downwards--not to go further back--thatmiracles, as the violation of an unchangeable order, make God contradicthimself, and so are unworthy of being attributed to the All-Wise, iswithout meaning. The most stupendous incident in the "Acta Sanctorum"is, as I deem, not less the manifestation of law than is the fall of asparrow. [53] The budding of a rose and the Resurrection of Jesus Christare equally the effect of the One Motive Force, which is the cause ofall phenomena, of the Volition of the Maker, Nourisher, Guardian, Governor, Worker, Perfecter of all. Once admit what is involved in thevery idea of God as it exists in Catholic theology--as it is set forth, for example, in the treatise of St. Thomas Aquinas "De Deo"--and thenotion of miracles as abnormal, as infractions of order, as violationsof law, will be seen to be utterly erroneous. 

And now one word as to the bearing of physical science upon the doctrineof the Divine goodness[54]--the second of the theological positionswhich, as we have seen, the author of "Natural Religion" assumes to bediscredited by physical science. No doubt he had in his mind what hasbeen so strongly stated by the late Mr. Mill: "Not even on the mostdistorted and contracted theory of good, which ever was framed byreligious or philosophical fanaticism, can the government of Nature bemade to resemble the work of a being at once good and omnipotent. "[55]Now there can be no question that physical nature gives the lie to thatshallow optimism, which prates of the best of all conceivable worlds, and hardly consents to recognize evil, save as "a lower form of good;"unquestionably recent researches of physicists have brought out withquite startling clearness what St. Paul calls the subjection of thecreature to vanity. Ruin, waste, decay are written upon every feature ofthe natural order. All that is joyful in it is based on suffering; allthat lives, on death; every thrill of pleasure which we receive from theoutward world is the outcome of inconceivable agonies duringincalculable periods of time. But how does this discredit the teachingof theology as to God's goodness? Theology recognizes, and recognizesfar more fully than the mere physicist, the abounding misery that is inthe world, the terribleness of that "unutterable curse which hangs uponmankind, " for it sees not only what he sees, but what is infinitelysadder and more appalling, the vision of moral evil presented by theheart and conscience of man, by every page in the history of theindividual and of the race. It was not reserved for professors ofphysical science in the nineteenth century to bring to light the factthat "the world is out of joint, " and thereby to discredit thetheological view of the universe. Theology knows only too well that lifeis "a dread machinery of sin and sorrow. " It is the very existence ofthe vast aboriginal calamity, whatever it may have been, in which thehuman race, the whole creation, is involved, that forms the ground forthe need of the revelation which Christianity professes to bring. Ifthere were no evil, there would be no need of a deliverance from evil. Of course, why evil has been suffered to arise, why it is suffered toexist, by the Perfect Being, of whom it is truly said that He is God, because he is the highest Good, we know not, and no search will make usknow. All we know is that it is not from Him, of whom, and for whom, andby whom, are all things; "because it has no substance of its own, but isonly the defect, excess, perversion, or corruption of that which hassubstance. " The existence of evil is a mystery--one of the countlessmysteries surrounding human life--which, after the best use of reason, must be put aside as beyond reason. But it is also a fact, and a factwhich is so far from discrediting the theological view of the universe, that it is a primary and necessary element of that view. 

VI. 

Thus much as to physical science and the propositions in which theauthor of "Natural Religion" supposes the theological view of theuniverse to be summed up. But, as he notes, the case urged in thepresent day against Christianity does not rest merely upon physicalscience, properly so called; but upon the extension of its methods tothe whole domain of knowledge (p. 7), the practical effect being thereduction of religion to superstition, of anthropology to physiology, ofmetaphysics to physics, of ethics to the result of temperament or thepromptings of self-interest, of man's personality to the summation of aseries of dynamic conditions of particles of matter. I shall proceed tostate the case, as I often hear it stated, and I shall put it in thestrongest way I can, and to indicate the answer which, at all events, has satisfied one mind, after long and patient consideration, and inspite of strong contrary prepossessions. And this evidently has the mostdirect bearing on my theme. If Christianity be irrational, its claims tothe world's future may at once be dismissed. But if, as I very stronglyhold, the achievements of the modern mind, whether in the physicalsciences, in psychology, in history, in exegetical criticism, have notin the least discredited Christianity, as rightly understood, here is afact which is a most important factor in determining our judgment as tothe religious prospect of mankind. What I have to say on this gravequestion I must reserve for the Second Part of this article. I end theFirst Part with one observation. It seems to me that the issue beforethe world is between Christianity and a more or less sublimated form ofMaterialism--not necessarily Atheistic, nay, sometimes approximating to"faint possible Theism"--which is most aptly termed Naturalism; a systemwhich rejects as antiquated the ideas of final causes, of Providence, ofthe soul and its immortality; which allows of no other realities thanthose of the physical order, and makes of Nature man's highest ideal:and this issue is not in the least affected by decking out Naturalism insome borrowed garments of Spiritualism, and calling it "NaturalChristianity. "

 W. S. LILLY. 

FOOTNOTES:

[26] "La Génie des Religions, " l. I. C. I. 

[27] _Ibid. _, c. Iv. 

[28] The author of "Natural Religion" thinks it mistaken in so declaringitself. "Its invectives against God and against Religion do not provethat it is atheistic, but only that it thinks itself so. And why does itthink itself so? Because God and Religion are identified in its viewwith the Catholic Church; and the Catholic Church is a thing so veryredoubtable that we need scarcely inquire why it is passionately hatedand feared" (p. 37). But this is an error. God and Religion are notidentified, in the view of the Revolution, with the Catholic Church. Itwill be evident to anyone who will read its accredited organs that it isas implacably hostile to religious Protestantism as to Catholicism. Perhaps I may be allowed to refer, on this subject, to some remarks ofmy own in an article entitled "Free Thought--French and English, "published in this REVIEW, in February last, p. 241. 

[29] See his Preface to the Second Edition. 

[30] Warburton, a shrewd observer enough, expressed the same view ahundred years ago, with characteristic truculence:--"Mathematicians--Ido not mean the inventors and geniuses amongst them, whom I honour, butthe Demonstrators of others' inventions, who are ten times duller andprouder than a damned poet--have a strange aversion to everything thatsmacks of religion. "--_Letters to Hurd_, xix. 

[31] Preface to Second Edition, p. Vii. 

[32] _Ibid. _, p. V. 

[33] Summa, 1^ma 2^de qu. 60, art. 3. 

[34] "Grammar of Assent, " p. 389. 5th ed. 

[35] What Wordsworth says is--

"We live by Admiration, Hope, and Love, And, even as these are well andwisely fixed, In dignity of being we ascend. "

This is widely different from the nude proposition that "we live byadmiration. "

[36] See also p. 127. 

[37] A good deal of information about Theophilanthropy and theTheophilanthropists, in an undigested and, indeed, chaotic state, willbe found in Grégoire's "Histoire des Sectes Religieuses, " vol. I. 

[38] The Theophilanthropists were most anxious that the object of theirworship should not be supposed to be the Christian God. Thus in one oftheir hymns their Deity is invoked as follows:--

"Non, tu n'es pas le _Dieu_ dont le prêtre est l'apôtre, Tu n'as pointpar la Bible enseigné les humains. "

[39] The author of "Natural Religion" says, Talleyrand; I do not know onwhat authority. Grégoire writes:--"Au Directoire même on le raillait surson zèle thêophilantropique. Un de ses collègues, dit-on, lui proposaitde se faire pendre et de ressusciter le troisième jour, commel'infaillible moyen de faire triompher sa secte, et Carnot lui décochedans son _Mémoire_ des épigrammes sanglantes à ce sujet. "--_Histoire desSectes Religieuses_, vol. I. P. 406. Talleyrand was never a member ofthe Directory. 

[40] Preface to second edition. 

[41] "Eight Lectures on Miracles, " p. 50. 

[42] _Ibid. _ See Dr. Mozley's note on this passage. 

[43] "Analogy. " Part I. C. I. I give, of course, Bishop Butler's wordsas I find them, but, as will be seen a little later, I do not quite takehis view of the supernatural. 

[44] "Three Essays on Religion, " p. 174. 

[45] "Address to the British Association, " 1871. 

[46] I say "_primary_ cause;" of course I do not deny _its own propercausality_ to the non-spiritual or matter. 

[47] "Contributions to the Theory of Natural Selection, " p. 368. I am, of course, aware of Mr. Mill's remarks upon this view in his "ThreeEssays on Religion" (pp. 146-150). The subject is too great to bediscussed in a footnote. But I may observe that he rests, at bottom, upon the assumption--surely an enormous assumption--that causation isorder. Cardinal Newman's argument upon this matter in the "Grammar ofAssent" (pp. 66-72, 5th ed. ) seems to me to be unanswerable; certainly, it is unanswered. I have no wish to dogmatize--the dogmatism, indeed, appears to be on the other side--but if we go by experience, as it isnow the fashion to do, our initial elementary experience would certainlylead us to consider will the great or only cause. To guard against apossible misconception let me here say that I must not be supposed toadopt Mr. Wallace's view in its entirety or precisely as stated by him. Of course, the analogy between the human will and the Divine Will isimperfect, and Mr. Mill appears to me to be well founded in denying that_our_ volition originates. My contention is that Matter is inert untilForce has been brought to bear upon it: that all Force must be due to aPrimary Force of which it is the manifestation or the effect: that thePrimary Force cannot exert itself unless it be self-determined: that tobe self-determined is to be living: that to be primarily and utterlyself-determined is to be an infinitely self-conscious volition: _ergo_, the primary cause of Force is the Will of God. This is the logicaldevelopment of the famous argument of St. Thomas Aquinas. He contendsthat whatever things are moved must be moved by that which is not moved:_a movente non moto_. But Suarez and later writers complete the argumentby analyzing the term _movens non motum_, which they consider equivalentto _Ens a se, in se, et per se_, or _Actus Purissimus_. 

[48] "Contra Faustum, " 22. 

[49] Summa, 1, 2, qu. 83, art. 1. But on this and the precedingquotation, see the note on page 118. 

[50] "Quotidiana Dei miracula ex assiduitate vilescunt. "--_Hom. Xxvi. InEvan_. 

[51] "Stated, fixed, or settled" is a predicate common to natural andsupernatural, not the _differentia_ of either. And here let me remarkthat the expression, "Laws of Nature, " is a modern technical expressionwhich the Catholic philosopher would require, probably, to have definedbefore employing it. "Natura, " in St. Thomas Aquinas, is declared to be"Principium operationis cujusque rei, " the Essence of a thing inrelation to its activity, or the Essence as manifested _agendo_. Hence"Natura rerum, " or "Universitas rerum" (which is the Latin for Nature inthe phrase "Laws of Nature") means the Essences of all things created(finite) as manifested and related to each other by their properinherent activities, which of course are stable or fixed. But since itis not a logical contradiction that these activities should besuspended, arrested, or annihilated (granting an Infinite Creator), itwill not be contrary to _Reason_ should a miraculous intervention sodeal with them, though their suspension or annihilation may bedescribed, loosely and inaccurately, as against the Laws of Nature. By_Reason_ is here meant the declarations of necessary Thought as topossibility and impossibility, or the canons of contradiction, the onlyproper significance of the word in discussions about miracles. Hence, tosay that miracles have their laws, is not to deny that they are by theFree Will of God. For creation is by the Fiat of Divine Power andFreedom, and yet proceeds upon law--that is to say, upon a settled planand inherent sequence of cause and effect. But it is common with Mr. Mill and his school to think of law as _necessary inviolable_ sequence;whereas it is but a fixed mode of action whether _necessarily or freely_determined; and it is a part of law that some activities should beliable to suspension or arrestment by others, and especially by theFirst Cause. 

[52] "Vie de Jésus, " p. 247. 

[53] When Mr. Mill says ("Three Essays on Religion, " p. 224), "Theargument that a miracle may be the fulfilment of a law in the same sensein which the ordinary events of Nature are fulfilments of laws, seems toindicate an imperfect conception of what is meant by a law and whatconstitutes a miracle, " all he really means is that this argumentinvolves a conception of law and of miracle different from his own, which is undoubtedly true. Upon this subject I remark as follows: Thereis a necessary will (_spontaneum non liberum_) and a free will(_liberumnon spontaneum_); and these are in God on the scale of infiniteperfection, as they are in man finitely. With Mr. Mill, as I haveobserved in a previous note, Law is taken to signify "invariable, necessary sequence;" and its test is, that given the same circumstances, the same thing will occur. But it is essential to Free Will (whether inGod or man) that given the same circumstances, the same thing need not, may not, and perhaps will not, occur. However, an act may be free _incausa_ which _hic et nunc must_ happen; the Free Will having done thatby choice which brings as a necessary consequence something else. Forthere are many things which would involve contradiction and so beimpossible, did not certain consequences follow them. This premised, itis clear that the antithesis of Mr. Mill's "Law" is Free Will. Law andantecedent necessity to Mr. Mill are one and the same. But Law inCatholic terminology means the Will of God decreeing freely or notfreely, according to the subject-matter; and is not opposed toFree-Will. It guides, it need not coerce or necessitate, though it may. Neither in one sense, is Law synonymous with Reason, for that isaccording to Reason, simply, which does not involve a contradiction, whether it be done freely or of necessity; and many things are possible, or non-contradictives, that Law does not prescribe. Nor again doesFree-Will mean lawless in the sense of irrational; or causeless, in thesense of having no motive: "contra legem, " "præter legem" is not "contrarationem, " "prater rationem. " The Divine Will, then, may be free, yetact according to Law, namely, its own freely-determined Law. And it mayact "not according to Law, " and yet act according to Reason. In thissense, then, theologians identify the Divine Will with the DivineReason--I mean, they insist that God's Will is always according toReason--in this sense, but, as I think, not in any other. For the DivineWill is antecedently free as regards all things which are not God; butthe Divine Intellect is not free in the same way. St. Augustine alwaystends to view things in the concrete, not distinguishing their "rationesformales, " or distinguishing them vaguely. And Ratio with him does notmean Reason merely, but living Reason or the Reasoning Being, the Soul. When St. Thomas Aquinas speaks of Lex Æterna he means the Necessary Lawof Morality, concerning which God is not free, because in decreeing it, He is but decreeing that there is no Righteousness except by imitationof Him. 

The root of all these difficulties and of all the confusion in speechwhich they have brought forth is this: the mystery of Free-Will in God, the Unchangeable and Eternal, The great truth taught in the words of theVatican Council, "Deus, _liberrimo consilio_ condidit universa, " mustever be borne in mind. Undoubtedly, there are no afterthoughts in God. But neither is there a past in which He decreed once for all what was tobe and what was not to be. He is the Eternal Now. But still all eventsare the fulfilment of His Will, and contribute to the working out of thescheme which He has traced for creation. Feeble is human speech to dealwith such high matters, serving, at the best, but dimly to adumbrateineffable truths. As Goethe somewhere says, "Words are good, but not thebest: the best cannot be expressed in words. My point, however, is thatthere is, on the one hand, a connection of events with events allthrough creation and an intelligible sequence, while, on the other, theFree-Will of man is a determining force as regards his own spiritualactions, as is the Free-Will of God in respect of the whole creation, and that miracles are neither afterthoughts, nor irregularities, norcontradictions, but at once free and according to law. Miracles are notabnormal, unless Free-Will is a reduction of Kosmos to Chaos, and thenegation of Reason altogether. "

[54] I say "the doctrine of the Divine goodness, " because that is, as Ithink, what the author of "Natural Religion" means. As to the "simple, absolute benevolence"--"benevolence, " indeed, is a milk-and-waterexpression; "God is love"--which "some men seem to think the onlycharacter of the Author of Nature, " it is enough to refer to BishopButler's striking chapter on "The Moral Government of God, " (Analogy, Part I. C. Iii). I will here merely observe that although, doubtless, God's attribute is Love of the creation, He is not only Love, butSanctity, Justice, Creative Power, Force, Providence; and whereas, considered as a Unit He is infinite, He is not infinite--I speak undercorrection--viewed in those aspects, abstractions, or attributes which, separately taken, are necessary for our subjective view of Him. I allowthat God's power and His "benevolence" may in some cases work outdifferent ends, as if separate entities, but still maintain--what theauthor of "Natural Religion" ignores--that God in His very essence isnot only "Benevolence, " but Sanctity, &c. Also; _all as One in HisOneness_. 

[55] "Three Essays on Religion, " p. 38. 

SYRIAN COLONIZATION. 

During the past few years many proposals have been made, and schemesformed, for repeopling the wastes of Syria and Palestine with thesurplus population of Europe. These schemes, sometimes philanthropic, sometimes commercial, are always advocated on the assumption that thecurrent of European emigration and capital might be turned to Syria andPalestine in accordance with sound economic and financialconsiderations. In this paper I propose--

_First. _ To take a survey of the agricultural resources of the country. 

_Second. _ To draw attention to the difficulties which immigrants wouldexperience in obtaining secure titles to landed property. 

_Third. _ To give a summary of the different kinds of land tenure, andthe burdens on agriculture. 

_Fourth. _ To point out some of the dangers and inconveniences to whichimmigrants would be exposed. 

 * * * * *

I. In the first place we may say broadly that the natural resources ofSyria and Palestine are agricultural. On the eastern slopes of MountHermon there are a few bitumen pits from which a small quantity of oreof excellent quality is yearly exported to England. Small deposits ofcoal and iron exist in several localities, and there are chemicaldeposits about the shores of the Dead Sea. Gypsum and coloured marbleare found in Syria, and along the coast opposite the Lebanon rangesponges are fished annually to the value of £20, 000. Hot sulphur springsexist at Palmyra and the Sea of Galilee, and there are ruined baths onthe way between Damascus and Palmyra and in the Yarmûk Valley; but noneof these natural products are of sufficient importance to attractEuropean labour or capital. 

Forests can scarcely be said to exist in Syria or Palestine. A fewgroves of cedars of Lebanon, which escaped the axes of Hiram, are fastdisappearing. On the limestone ridges and in some of the valleys thereare clumps of pine, and throughout a great part of the country there isa considerable quantity of scrub oak which the peasants reduce tocharcoal, and carry into the cities. In Galilee one comes on placeswhere the trees give a pleasing character to the landscape. On MountCarmel there are jungles and thickets of oak, and on the slopes towardsNazareth there are considerable groves, but the nearest approach to aforest is where the oaks of Bashan, which recall the beauties of anEnglish park, assert their ancient supremacy. 

Rows of poplars mark the courses of rivers and streams throughout theland, and supply beams for flat-roofed houses; but when churches orother important buildings have to be roofed, or timber is required fordomestic purposes, it has to be imported from America, and carried intothe interior on the backs of animals. There remain trees enough in someplaces to lend beauty to the landscape, and to show what the country mayonce have been, as well as to suggest what it may again become; butthere are no forests to attract labour or capital. 

The few manufactories of wool and cotton and soap and leather arechiefly limited to local want. Besides these there are the silk-spinningfactories in the Lebanon, managed by Frenchmen and natives, and amanufactory of cotton thread on one of the rivers of Damascus. 

The popular accounts of the agricultural resources of Syria andPalestine are very different. As instances of extremes:--Mark Twaintells us he saw the goats eating stones in Syria, and he assures us thathe could not have been mistaken, for they had nothing else to eat; whileMr. Laurence Oliphant saw even in the Dead Sea "a vast source of wealth"for his English Company. We read in his "Land of Gilead" these words:"There can be little doubt, in fact, that the Dead Sea is a mine ofunexplored wealth which only needs the application of capital andenterprise to make it a most lucrative property. "[56]

The tourists who traverse the country in spring, immediately after thelatter rains, when there is some vegetation in the barest places, andwhen their horses are up to the fetlocks in flowers, never forget thebeauty of the landscape. Others, who have been picturing to themselves aland flowing with milk and honey, hills waving with golden grain, andgreen meadows dappled with browsing flocks, and who pass through theland in autumn, find themselves bitterly disappointed. As they trudgealong the white glaring pathways, and through the roadless and flintywilderness, breasting the hot beating waves of a Syrian noonday, withonly an ashy chocolate-coloured landscape around them, scorched as if bythe breath of a furnace, they get an impression of dreary and blasteddesolation which time can never efface. They looked for the garden ofthe Lord, and they find only the "burning marl. " It was my fate, duringa long residence in Syria, to hear autumn tourists criticize bookswritten by spring tourists, and spring tourists criticize books writtenby autumn tourists, and generally in a manner by no means complimentaryto the authors' veracity;--the fact being that the writers had giventheir impression of what they saw, with perhaps a little of Americanwit, which consists in exaggerating "the leading feature. "

I think, however, that to most English travellers, who have no hobbiesto ride, the barren appearance of Syria and Palestine is adisenchantment. Accustomed to their own moist climate and green fields, they are not prepared for the dry and parched, and abandoned appearanceof the greater part of the country. With us an abundance of water spoilsthe crops; in Syria and Palestine the case is reversed, for unless watercan be poured over the land the crops are stunted and uncertain. For sixor seven months in the year scarcely any rain falls, and scarcely acloud darkens the sky. In October the early rain commences, with muchthunder and lightning; and in April the latter rain becomes light anduncertain, and generally ceases altogether. Then the sky becomesintensely blue, and the sun comes out in all his glory, or rather in allher glory, for with the Arabs the sun is feminine. Suddenly grass andvegetation wither up and become dry for the oven. The level country, except where there are rivers, becomes parched. The stones stick up outof the red soil like the white bones of a skeleton. Limestone, flint, and basalt, and thorny shrubs, cover the face of the wilderness country. Here and there you may see a dwarf oak, or an olive tree, or a wild figtree, and among the mountains you may notice little patches scratchedand cultivated by the _fellahîn_; but, unless on the great plains ofBashan and Esdraelon and Hamath, and on the uplands of Gilead, or wherethere is water for irrigation, you may ride for hours along the zigzagpaths, over mountain and high-land, and before and behind extend thelimestone and flinty rocks, white and blinding, and broken intofragments or burnt into powder. It thus happens that few tourists whopass along the beaten tracks of Syria and Palestine have any justconception of the vast agricultural resources of the land. 

The most striking features in the Syrian landscape are two parallelmountain ranges, which appear on the map like two centipedes, runningnorth and south. These are the Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon ranges. Lebanonproper lies along the shore of the Mediterranean. The narrow strip ofland between the mountain and the sea was the home of the Ph[oe]nicians, who steered their white-winged ships to every land, and dipped theiroars in every sea, before the Britons were heard of. The gardens ofSidon, luxuriant with bananas, oranges, figs, lemons, pomegranates, peaches, apricots, &c. , extend across the plain for two miles to themountain, and show what Ph[oe]nicia may once have been. The palm treesthat adorn the fertile gardens of Beyrout are doubtless survivors of thegroves from which the strip of land once took its name. [57]

By the exertions of Lord Dufferin in 1860, a Christian governor wasplaced over the Lebanon in a semi-independent position. Since then theterraced mountain has been marvellously developed, and every footholdhas been planted with vines and figs and mulberries. The industriouspeasantry, comparatively safe from Turkish rapacity, have cultivated theledges among its crags and peaks, and enjoy the fruits of theirindustry, sitting under their vines and fig trees. The bloodthirsty andturbulent Druzes, restrained by law, and unable to hold their own in afield of fair competition, are being rapidly civilized off the mountain, and betake themselves to remote regions in Bashan where no law isacknowledged but that of the strong arm. 

Between Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon stretches for seventy milesC[oe]lo-Syria or Buka'a, a well-watered and fertile plain, containingabout 500 square miles and 137 agricultural villages, and marked by suchruins as those of Chalcis and Baalbek. 

The Anti-Lebanon consists of a series of mountain ranges, some of whichrun parallel with Lebanon, and flatten into the plain at "the gatheringin of Hamath, " while some bend off in a more easterly direction, andshoot out boldly into the desert. The westward end of this mountainousrange rises into Mount Hermon. The eastward end sinks into Palmyra. North of the Anti-Lebanon, the narrow plain of C[oe]lo-Syria expandsinto the great rolling country of high-land, river, lake, and plain, where for more than a thousand years the Hittite kings rolled back thetide of Egyptian and Assyrian invasion, and where, in later years, theSelucidæ kings pastured their elephants and steeds of war. 

Among the ranges and spurs of the Anti-Lebanon are many green spots ofgreat picturesque beauty. Wherever there are fountains the habitationsof men are clustered together at the water, seemingly jostling andstruggling like thirsty flocks to get to its margin. The cottages clingto the edges of fountains and rivers in the most perilous positions. Sometimes they are stuck to the rocks like swallows' nests, andsometimes they are placed on beetling cliffs like the home of the eagleabove the chasm. No solitary houses are met throughout the country. Thepeople build together for safety, and near the water for life, and bythe village fountains and wells cluster the fairest scenes of Easternpoetry, as well Arab and Persian as Hebrew, and around them have takenplace some of the fiercest of Oriental battles. 

At the villages a little water is drawn off from the rivers, andcarefully apportioned among the different families and factions. Bymeans of this water, carefully conducted to the various gardens, applesand plums, grapes and pomegranates, melons and cucumbers, corn andonions, olives and egg plants are cultivated; and such is the bounty ofNature, that with the least effort existence is possible wherever thereis water. A little rancid oil and a few vegetables are sufficient tosustain life, and these can be had by a few hours labour in the cool ofthe day. The rest of the time may be spent squatting cross-legged by thewater, or smoking and dozing in the shade. This is existence, but notlife; yet why should the _fellah_ labour for anything beyond what isabsolutely necessary, when the slightest sign of wealth would createanxious solicitude on the part of the Turk?

A ride of seventy-two miles across Ph[oe]nicia, Lebanon, C[oe]lo-Syria, and Anti-Lebanon, brings us, by French diligence, to Damascus. Abana andPharpar break through a sublime gorge, about 100 yards wide, down themiddle of which the French road winds its serpentine course, the riverson either side being fringed with silver poplar and scented walnut. Aswe look eastward from the brow of the hill, the great plain of Damascus, encircled by a framework of desert, lies before us. The river, escapedfrom the rocky gorge, spreads out like a fan, and, after a run of threemiles, enters Damascus, where it flows through 15, 000 houses, sparklesin 60, 000 marble fountains, and hurries on to scatter wealth andfertility far and wide over the plain. Those who have gazed on thisscene are never likely to forget its supreme loveliness. Its beauty isdoubtless much enhanced by contrast. The eye has been wandering over achocolate-coloured and heated landscape throughout a weary day;suddenly, on turning a corner, it rests on Eden. 

The city is spread out before you, embowered in orchards, in the midstof a plain of 300 square miles. Around the pearl-coloured, city--firstin the world in point of time, first in Syria and Western Asia in pointof importance--surge, like an emerald sea, forests of apricots andolives and apples and citrons, and "every tree that is pleasant to thesight and good for food, " with all their variety of colour and tint, according to their season, sometimes all aglow with blossoms, sometimesgolden and ruddy with fruit, and sometimes russet with the mellowingtints of autumn. Beyond the city the water conveys its wealth by sevenrivers to shady gardens and thirsty fields; and, as far as cultivationextends, two or three splendid crops during the same year reward theindustry of the husbandman. But even in the plain of Damascus the landis cultivated for only a few miles beyond the gates of the city. Thewater that would fertilize the whole plain flows uselessly intopestiferous marshes, and the wide plain within sight of the Damascusgarrison is abandoned to the Bedawîn of the Desert and the wild boars ofthe jungle. [58]

In Palestine there is the great plain of Esdraelon, now, to a largeextent, in the hands of a Greek firm at Beyrout, and partiallycultivated, but capable of producing wheat and maize and cotton andbarley, throughout its whole extent. On the southern side of Carmelspreads out the extensive plain of Sharon, a vast expanse ofpasture-land, ablaze with flowers in early spring, and rank withthistles in the time of harvest; and further south extends the stillmore fertile regions of Philistia. 

Looking south, from the southern slopes of Mount Hermon, the green plainof the Huleh, with Lake Merom glassed in its centre, forms a beautifulpicture. Mr. Oliphant here first saw an enchanting location for hiscolony. "I felt, " he says, "a longing to imitate the example of the menof Dan; for there can be no question that if, instead of advancing uponit with six hundred men, and taking it by force, after the manner of theDanites, one approached it in the modern style of a joint-stock company(limited), and recompensed the present owners, keeping them aslabourers, a most profitable speculation might be made out of the 'Ardel Huleh. '" The lake "might, with the marshy plain above it, be easilydrained; and a magnificent tract of country, nearly twenty miles long byfrom five to six miles in width, abundantly watered by the upperaffluents of the Jordan, might then be brought into cultivation. It isonly now occupied by some wandering Bedawîn and the peasants of a fewscattered villages on its margin. "[59]

East of the Jordan are the corn-growing table-land of Bashan and thebeautiful and fertile high-lands of Gilead. In the former I have riddenfor hours, with an unbroken sea of waving wheat as far as I could seearound me, and as regards the "land of Gilead, " I can confirm Mr. Oliphant's most enthusiastic descriptions of its beauty, fertility, anddesolation. 

Nor are the agricultural resources of Syria and Palestine limited to thegreat irrigated plains and broad trans-Jordanic table-lands. Throughoutthe country there are numerous villages shut in among bare hills, withapparently no resource; but on closer inspection it turns out that thereare a few cultivated terraces, where tobacco and grape-vines andvegetables are cultivated, and on a still closer inspection it isevident that the bare mountains all around were once terraced, anddoubtless clothed with the vine. 

I was once crossing a series of undulating ranges abutting on MountHermon with an English tourist who was making merry at the utterlybarren appearance of "the promised land. " It turned out, however, thathis attempted wit served to sharpen our observation, and we found thatall the hill-sides had once been terraced by human hands. A few milesfurther on we came to Rasheiya, where the vineyards still flourish onsuch terraces, and we had no difficulty in coming to the conclusion thatthe bare terraces, from which lapse of time had worn away the soil, wereonce trellised with the vine, the highest emblem of prosperity and joy. Similar terraces were noticed by Drake and Palmer in the Desert ofJudea, far from any modern cultivation. 

It is rash to infer that because a place is desolate now, it must alwayshave been so, or must always remain so. The Arab historian tells us thatSalah-ed-Dîn, before the battle of Hattin, set fire to the forests, andthus encircled the Crusaders with a sea of flame. Now there is scarcelya shrub in the neighbourhood. 

In wandering through that sacred land, over which the Crescent nowwaves, one is amazed at the number of ruins that stud the landscape, andshow what must once have been the natural fertility of the country. Whence has come the change? Is the blight natural and permanent? or hasit been caused by accidental and artificial circumstances which may beonly temporary? Doubtless, each ruin has its tale of horror, but alltrace their destruction to Islamism, and especially to the blighting anddesolating presence of the Turk. 

That short, thick, beetle-browed, bandy-legged, obese man, that so manyfresh tourists find so charming, is a Turkish official. He and hisancestors have ruled the land since 1517. A Wilberforce in sentiment, heis the representation of "that shadow of shadows for good--Ottomanrule. " The Turks, whether in their Pagan or Mohammedan phase, have onlyappeared on the world's scene to destroy. No social or civilizing artowes anything to the Turks but progressive debasement and decay. 

That heap of stones, in which you trace the foundations of temples andpalaces, where now the owl hoots and the jackal lurks, was once aprosperous Christian village. Granted that the Christianity was pureneither in creed nor ritual; yet it had, even in its debased form, athew and sinew that brought prosperity to its possessors. The history ofthat ruin is the history of a thousand such throughout the empire. Itsprosperity led to its destruction. The insolent Turk, restrained by nopublic opinion, and curbed by no law, would wring from the villagers thefruits of their labour. Oppression makes even wise men mad, and theChristians, goaded to madness, turned on their oppressors. Then followedsubmission, on promise of forgiveness. The Christians surrendered theirarms, and the flashing scymitar of Islam fell upon the defenceless; andthe place became a ruin amid horrors too foul to narrate. No greaterproof of the exhaustless fertility of the soil of Syria and Palestinecould be furnished than this: that the spoiler, unrestrained, has beenin it for 365 years, and that he has not yet succeeded in reducing itall to a howling wilderness. 

II. Those who embark capital in land, with a view to securing a home forthemselves and their children, should look closely to the character oftheir title-deeds. The foremost Englishman in the Levant assured me thathe never invested money in houses or land because there was no suchthing as security of title in the Turkish Empire. My own opinion, basedon an experience of ten years, is that it is impossible to know whetheror not you have a title in Syria. Unfortunately this judgment does notrest on mere opinions as to what might happen, but it is fortified bythe authoritative Commercial Reports of Her Majesty's Consuls throughoutSyria and Palestine, and by a series of facts of daily occurrence. 

Vice-Consul Jago, of Beyrout, in a report dated July 11, 1876, thuswrites:--

 "Efforts made by wealthy native Christians and Europeans to employ capital in agriculture have been invariably met by great obstacles, the apparent impossibility of getting _incontestable title-deeds_ being one of the many, although such documents may have emanated from the highest authority in the land. Actions of ejectment have invariably followed such efforts, to which the fact of the Government itself being often the seller opposed no bar. "

The same Vice-Consul, writing from Damascus, under date March 13, 1880, referring to the difficulty of investing capital in agriculturalenterprise, says:--

 "Unfortunately, the present judicial system is of a nature to permit, if not to foster, the thousand and one intrigues and vexations which seem to be almost inseparably connected with the possession of land in Syria, and additional facilities for such are to be found, if wanting, in the state in which the land registry offices are kept. Erasures, irregular entries, at the request of the interested, change of one name for another as the legitimate owner, resulting often in persons finding their names down in the Government books as owners of property, the existence of which was unknown to them, and _vice versâ_, cause the validity of title-deeds, issued as they are by various courts in the country, to be a fertile source of litigation, and fraudulent action.... The fact, however, that title-deeds can be set aside by verbal testimony perhaps sufficiently accounts for the little value they practically possess. "

I could cite many instances in illustration of Mr. Jago's statements. Aneffort made by the Rev. E. B. Frankel, of Damascus, to secure thetitle-deeds of a worthless piece of barren rock without resorting to thedegrading practices of the country, is interesting, not only as anillustration in point, but also as showing that an honest man wouldsuffer loss rather than gain his point by questionable means. I wasprivy to the transactions as they occurred, but as Mr. Frankel haskindly furnished me with a brief history, I shall give it in his ownwords:--

 "During my residence in Damascus, I tried one or two villages in the neighbourhood as a summer retreat, and at length fixed upon a village called Maraba, as being at a convenient distance from the city to ride there in the morning and return at night. Finding, however, that the native houses were scarcely habitable, I determined to have a small house built, close to, yet not overlooking, the village. To carry out my plan I had first of all to apply to the Vali for permission to do so. His Highness, with an outburst of Oriental liberality, declared his readiness to give me not only a piece of ground but a garden as well. This I declined with thanks, knowing the value of such an offer, but showed him on paper the spot I had chosen, consisting of a barren rock, and asked him to send a competent person to the place to examine the site and value it, and at the same time see from the plan that none of my windows would overlook my neighbours. In the course of a few days, I received a notice that a commission of six officials would meet me on the spot and settle the matter at once. I provided a luncheon _al fresco_, to which the sheikh of the village was invited to negotiate on the part of the villagers. 

 "After a long preamble, setting forth the value of land in general, and of this spot in particular, he offered at length to sell the site for 5, 000 piastres (a piastre is equal to 2_d. _). 

 "'Fifty piastres, ' wrote down the scribe. 'By the life of your father, it is too little--say 3, 000. ' 'Seventy-five, ' said the scribe. 'Say 1, 000--by Allah, it is worth 5, 000; but Allah is great. ' 100 piastres was the sum agreed to at last, and I had the permission to begin building at once. 

 "When the house was half finished, an order came to stop, on the ground that it was built over the tomb of a Moslem saint, and that the departed spirit might not relish the vicinity of Christians, and avenge himself by doing us some bodily harm for which the Vali would be responsible. 

 "After a great deal of trouble and investigation, his Highness was convinced that the existence of such a tomb was a myth. The next charge brought against me was, that whilst I pretended to build a house, I was in reality building a convent in the midst of a Mohammedan population. I had a hard struggle to convince him that Protestants had no such institutions. 

 "Now all these charges had been trumped up by the officials in the hope of receiving the usual bribe, which I was determined not to give--having made up my mind to carry the business through honestly and legally. One more effort was made to annoy me, or rather to force me to give the customary 'backsheesh, '--viz. , that the house was built over a road leading from the village to the stream to the great inconvenience of the villagers. The Consul had at length to interfere; the Government engineer was sent to investigate the matter and report upon it, which was to the effect that there was no vestige of road or foot-path in the vicinity of the house. 

 "After this, I was left in peaceful possession so far, that no one could turn me out of the house, but not having the title-deeds, I could scarcely expect to find a purchaser in case I wished to sell it. My next effort was to secure the necessary papers. Month after month I applied in vain for them. The Governor pretended to be shocked to hear that his orders had not been carried out, he sent for the scribe, and threatened him with his fiercest displeasure if such an act of negligence should ever again be reported against him. The scribe pleaded a sprained wrist as an excuse for the delay, but by the life of the Prophet, he would write the document at once. I took a hasty leave of the Vali, and rushed off after the scribe, determined not to lose sight of him again; he had, however, disappeared, as if the earth had swallowed him up. These scenes were repeated over and ever again, till at the end of twelve months, having to leave Damascus, I had to sell the house at a great loss, not having the title-deeds. The purchaser, the American Vice-Consul, trusting to his official position, hoped to be able to succeed where I had failed. 

 "I have no doubt but that by following the usual Oriental custom of backsheesh, and dividing £10 or £20 among the officials, every obstacle would have been removed to my obtaining the title-deeds of a property for which I paid the sum of 16_s. _ 8_d. _"

There are a few most interesting groups of German colonists inPalestine, who belong to a religious order called "The Temple;" and whoassume to be a Spiritual Temple in the Holy Land. As far as I hadopportunity of judging, the colonists were men who, as colonists, wouldsucceed in any land, except perhaps Syria. There were among them masonsand carpenters and blacksmiths and shoemakers and doctors. They were allaccustomed to work with their hands, and they were prepared to do, notonly whatever hard work was to be done in their own colony, but also todo any jobs for their neighbours, wherever their superior skill might beemployed. They were strong, patient, sober, devout, and they entered ontheir work with lofty but calm enthusiasm. One branch settled at Jaffa, on the ruins of an American colony which had been led there by a Mr. Adams, and which ended in sad disaster. Another has settled "under theshadow of Mount Carmel, " about a mile out of Haifa, and a third nearJerusalem. Besides settling in these places, some of the girls wereprepared to go out as servants, with results, in some cases, that cannotbe detailed. The first batch of these colonists settled near Nazareth in1867, and all died of malarious fever. [60] But the German colonists werenot daunted by preliminary disaster, and they have been since battlingwith the difficulties of the situation with a patient energy borderingon heroism. 

Mr. Oliphant visited the colonies at Jerusalem and Haifa, and afterdescribing the streets and gardens and homesteads created by Germanindustry, he adds, "The colonists have scarcely any trouble in theirdealings with the Government. "

Captain Conder, who spent much time among the colonists, gives a morerealistic picture. He says--

 "The Turkish government is quite incapable of appreciating their real motives in colonization, and cannot see any reason beyond a political one for the settlement of Europeans in the country. The colonists have therefore _never obtained title-deeds to the land they have bought_, and there can be little doubt that should the Turks deem it expedient they would entirely deny the right of the Germans to hold their property. Not only do they extend no favour to the colony, though its presence has been most beneficial to the neighbourhood, but the inferior officials, indignant at the attempts of the Germans to obtain justice, without any regard to 'the customs of the country' (that is, to bribery), have thrown every obstacle they can devise in the way of the community, both individually and collectively. "[61]

The two most successful agricultural enterprises in Palestine are thoseof Bergheim and Sursuk, and as these are often referred to with a viewto induce Englishmen to embark capital in similar enterprises, a fewwords about each may not be superfluous. Captain Conder, writing withfull and accurate information, says:--

 "Probably the most successful undertaking of an agricultural kind in Palestine is the farm at Abu Shûsheh, belonging to the Bergheims, the principal banking firm in Jerusalem. The lands of Abu Shûsheh belong to this family, and include 5, 000 acres; a fine spring exists on the east, but in other respects the property is not exceptional. The native inhabitants are employed to till the land, under the supervision of Mr. Bergheim's son; a farmhouse has been built, a pump erected, and various modern improvements have been introduced. The same hindrance is, however, experienced by the Bergheims which has paralyzed all other efforts for the improvement of the land. The difficulties raised by the venal and corrupt under-officials of the Government have been vexatious and incessant, being due to the determination to extort money by some means or other, or else to ruin the enterprise from which they could gain nothing. The Turkish Government recognizes the right of foreigners to hold land, subject to the ordinary laws and taxes; but there is a long step between this abstract principle and the practical encouragement of such undertakings, and nothing is easier than to raise groundless difficulties, _on the subject of title_, or of assessment, in a land where the judges are as corrupt as the rest of the governing body. "[62]

More important still is the estate of seventy square miles in the plainof Esdraelon, now in the hands of Mr. Sursuk, a wealthy banker atBeyrout. Mr. Oliphant gives an account of the enterprise. "Theinvestment, " he adds, "has turned out eminently successful; indeed, somuch so, that I found it difficult to credit the accounts of theenormous profits which Mr. Sursuk derives from his estate. "[63]

From Mr. Oliphant's description, I turn to the excellent CommercialReport, written by Vice-Consul Jago, in plain prose, and I find he thusspeaks of the undertaking:--

 "Some few years ago, the wealthiest native Christian in the country, tempted by the low price of land near Acre offered for sale by the Government, purchased a large tract, containing thirty villages, for £18, 000. The revenue accruing to the Government was, prior to the purchase, between £T. 1, 500 and £T. 2, 000 per annum, owing to the poverty of the peasants, and consequently little production. 

 "Large sums were spent in importing labour from other districts for cultivation, and in providing the peasants with proper means. Under judicious management the speculation paid well, as much as thirty per cent. On capital, besides increasing the taxes paid to the Government to £5, 000. The peasantry likewise benefited, being assured of protection and prompt return for their labours. This state of prosperity produced local intrigue and jealousies. Actions of ejectment were brought to which _the government title-deeds proved no bar_. Journeys to Constantinople, and endless special commissions were the result, and it was only after a liberal expenditure of money, time, and labour, that the judicial courts of the country gave a decision, which, it is hoped, has set the matter finally at rest.... In short, a capitalist wishing to employ money in agriculture must be prepared to light his way, as it were, inch by inch, and that, too, with the weapons of the country. "[64]

Apparently Mr. Oliphant would have no objection to use the weapons ofthe country. At least he seems ready to base the successful launching ofhis Company on such considerations. Looking out over the province ofAjlun, which is a fertile region about forty miles long by twenty-fivein width, he exclaims: "I feel no moral doubt that £50, 000, partlyexpended judiciously in bribes at Constantinople, and partly applied tothe purchase of land, not belonging to the State, from its presentproprietors, would purchase the entire province, and could be made toreturn a fabulous interest on the investment. "[65]

I need only suggest that where investors embark their capital inphilanthropic undertakings for "fabulous interest, " it might be well ifthey reflected on the character of their proposed security and the meansused to secure it. 

III. Tenure of land in Syria and Palestine is regulated by Mohammedanlaw as administered in the Ottoman Empire. That law contemplates landunder a five-fold classification. 

_First. _ Crown lands set apart at the time of the conquest as thepersonal share of the Sultan and the Mussulman nation. These crown landswere farmed to the highest bidders, and the rent paid for them was knownas _Miri_. Several changes at different times were introduced withrespect to the _Miri_, and in 1864 these were superseded by the _Tapoo_code, the effect of which was to give titles of possession to those who, for ten years previously, had cultivated the crown lands, on conditionof their paying five per cent. Of the value of the land against theissue of their title-deeds. Under the _Tapoo_ system the crown landsbecome subject to two fixed taxes--the _Verghoo_, about four per mil. Onthe estimated value of the land; and the _Ushr_ or tithe, which shouldbe a tenth part of the produce of the soil. 

_Second. _ _Wakoof_ lands dedicated to the maintenance of holy places atMecca, or to charitable institutions and sacred sanctuaries. 

_Third. _ _Mulk_, or freehold property. This is subdivided into fourcategories, which I need not enumerate. Such lands are owned andcultivated by private individuals, without payment to the Government. The owners of such lands are free to dispose of them as they please, andat their deaths they pass to their descendants in accordance with therules of inheritance prescribed by Mohammedan law. 

_Fourth. _ Waste lands. 

_Fifth. _ Lands abandoned through non-cultivation. 

The above classification has the advantage of being theoreticallysimple, and easily understood by the people; and the different items oftaxation, as laid down by law, cannot be said to be onerous. Thefollowing are the chief heads:--

_Verghi. _--A rate of four per mil. , as stated above. 

_Ushr. _--A tenth of the produce of the soil. This is sometimes raised to12-1/2 per cent. , and in the manner in which it is collected itsometimes amounts to 20 or 30 per cent. 

_Income Tax. _--Which amounts to 3 per cent. On the estimated income ofthose engaged in trade. 

_Military Exoneration Tax. _--Payable by Jews, Christians, and othernon-Moslems, at the rate of £T. 50 for every 182 males of all ages. Thereis a new law limiting this payment to males between the ages of 15 and60, but it has not yet come into operation. 

_Military Exemption Tax. _--Payable by Moslems who are drawn byconscription, but wish to escape service, at the rate of £T. 50 each. 

_Tax on the Registration of Real Property. _

_Sheep and Goat Tax_ of sixpence per head (3 piastres). 

Besides these there are stamp duties:--auction fees of 2-1/2 per cent. , fees on contracts of 2-1/2 per cent. , on sale of all animals 2-1/2 percent. , on recovery of debts 3 per cent. , on transfer of real estate 1per cent. ; import duties of 8 per cent. , export duties of 1 per cent. , and a charge of 8 per cent. On all native produce and manufactures whencarried by sea from one part of the Turkish Empire to another. There arealso the duties on tobacco, liquors, salt, &c. In addition to theseVice-Consul Jago, in his Commercial Report, dated Beyrout, July 11, 1876, gives a summary of seventeen agricultural burdens, which areworthy of the consideration of all who feel disposed to embark inagriculture in Syria under its present rulers. 

IV. European emigrants, on landing in Syria, would find themselves in anunhealthy climate. The whole of the first batch of German settlers, anda very large number of the American emigrants who preceded them, fellvictims to the fevers of the country. Captain Conder, referring to thedifficulties of the German colonists, says:--

 "There are other reasons which militate against the idea of the final success of the Colony. The Syrian climate is not adapted to Europeans, and year by year it must infallibly tell on the Germans, exposed as they are to sun and miasma. It is true that Haifa is, perhaps, the healthiest place in Palestine, yet even here they suffer from fever and dysentery, and if they should attempt to spread inland, they will find their difficulties from climate increase tenfold. "[66]

The privations and discomforts of Syrian peasant life would beintolerable to European emigrants. The men would work by day under ablistering sun, and sleep at night the centre of attraction forsand-flies and mosquitoes, and all the other nameless tormentors thatleap and bite. Mr. Oliphant speaks feelingly of a night spent at KefrAssad:--

 "No sooner had the sounds of day died away, and the family and our servants gone to roost, than a pack of jackals set up that plaintive and mournful wail by which they seem to announce to the world that they are in a starving condition. They came so close to the village that all the dogs in it set up a furious barking. This woke the baby, of whose vocal powers we had been till then unaware. Fleas and mosquitoes innumerable seemed to take advantage of the disturbed state of things generally to make a combined onslaught. Vainly did I thrust my hands into my socks, tie handkerchiefs round my face and neck, and so arrange the rest of my night attire as to leave no opening by which they could crawl in. Our necks and wrists especially seemed circled with rings of fire. Anything like the number and voracity of the fleas of that 'happy village' I have never, during a long and varied intimacy with the insect, experienced. "[67]

These experiences were made near the troglodyte village es-Sal; and asMr. Oliphant peeped into the subterranean dwellings and dark caves, witha view to his colonization company, he exclaimed, "Indeed, there is probably no country in the world where an immigrant population would find such excellent shelter all ready prepared for them, or where they could step into the identical abodes which had been vacated by their occupants at least 1, 500 years ago, and use the same doors and windows. "[68]

It is just possible, however, that emigrants might not care to havetheir necks and wrists circled with rings of fire, and their bodiescovered with swarms of loathsome insects, for the romantic delights ofliving in underground dens that had not been occupied for 1, 500 years. 

Mr. Oliphant's scheme only contemplates Jewish emigrants, to whom suchconditions would not be altogether novel. 

 "I should not, " he says, "expect men to come from England or France, but from European and Asiatic Turkey itself, as well as from Russia, Galicia, Roumania, Servia, and the Slav countries. "

He has, however, his eye on the whole Jewish race throughout the worldwhen he says:--

 "As the area of land which I should propose, in the first instance, for colonization would not exceed a million, or, at most, a million and a half acres, it would be hard if, out of nearly 7, 000, 000 of people attached to it by the tradition of former possession, enough could not be found to subscribe a capital of £1, 000, 000, or even more, for its purchase and settlement, and if, out of that number, a selection of emigrants could not be made, possessing sufficient capital of their own to make them desirable colonists. "[69]

This article is not a review of Mr. Oliphant's interesting book, andtherefore I shall not follow him into the details of his colonizationscheme, where he narrows it, first, to Oriental Jews exclusively, andsecond to the elevation of such Jews into petty landlords. 

 "It has been objected, " he says, "that the Jews are not agriculturists, and that any attempts to develop the agricultural resources of the country through their instrumentality must result in failure. In the first instance, it is rather as landed proprietors than as labourers on the soil, that I should invite them to emigrate into Palestine, where they could lease their own land at high prices to native farmers if they preferred, instead of lending money on crops at 20 or 25 per cent. To the peasants, as they do at present. "[70]

This is the point to which Mr. Oliphant's fine enthusiasm dwindlesdown--the floating of a joint-stock company, limited, with one millionsterling capital, for the purpose of transforming into "landedproprietors" a number of Oriental Jews, who would neither have the heartto work themselves nor the skill to direct the labour of others. Thosewho have read modern history, or political economy, will not require anelaborate exposure of a scheme which aims at setting up in Gilead, underthe guise of philanthropy, the rack-renting and ornamental landlordingwhich have received such severe rebukes in Europe. We refer to thegeneral outline of Mr. Oliphant's fascinating scheme, inasmuch as he hasreduced to practical shape what others vaguely theorize about. 

He gives us a map of the proposed colony, connected by railways andtram-cars with the outer world. It embraces "the plains of Moab and theland of Gilead, " from the Jabok to the Annon. I know the country well. It is even more beautiful and fertile than Mr. Oliphant describes it tobe. It is impossible to pass through it without the constant thought ofwhat it might be in the hands of an Anglo-Saxon race. Mr. Oliphant wasstruck with the beauty of the girls of Ajlun, one of whom tried in vainto remove the vermin from his blankets. Dr. Thomson and I lay on agrassy slope, a whole afternoon, at the village of es-Souf, watchingthe children pelting each other with flowers, and we both agreed that wehad never seen an assemblage of merrier or lovelier children. "I cannotmake them out, " said Dr. Thomson, with unwonted enthusiasm; "they seemto be English children. "

Supposing the land for the proposed colony were secured, on Mr. Oliphant's plan, partly by judicious bribing at Constantinople, andpartly by buying out the interest of the present proprietors, and thatthe undertaking proved to be the "sound and practical scheme containingall the elements of success" which its promoters predict--the verysuccess of the colony would expose the colonists to a great and terribledanger. Travellers must have noticed that the _fellahîn_ cultivate theirfields with long guns slung over their shoulders, and an armoury ofpistols and daggers in their belts. Why is this? Because, as theproverb, tested by experience, has it--"A Turkish judge may be bribed bythree eggs, two of them rotten; and a _fellah_ may be murdered for hisjacket without a button upon it. "

Mr. Oliphant came upon Circassians re-occupying deserted villages in themidst of the Bedawîn, and he takes the fact as "valuable evidence thatthe problem of colonization by a foreign element, so far as the Arabsare concerned, is by no means insoluble. "[71] He seems to forget thatthe traveller with empty pockets may whistle in the face of thehighwayman. The Circassians are settling in abandoned villages by thewish of the authorities. They have the deep sympathy of all Moslems onaccount of their sufferings. Besides, they have nothing to lose whichwould compensate the Bedawîn for the alienation of the TurkishGovernment. 

The case would be far different with a rich and prosperous colony offoreigners supported by foreign capital. 

In his hurried tour beyond Jordan, Mr. Oliphant came upon the Fudl Arabswith 2, 000 fighting men, and in their midst a colony of 300 Circassians. In another place he came on a colony of 3, 000 Circassians in the midstof the Naïm Arabs, who muster 4, 000 fighting men. "The Anezeh Arabs, whocontrol, " he says, "an area of about 40, 000 square miles, and who canbring over 100, 000 horsemen and camel-drivers into the field, " would beon the borders of the colony, and the Druzes, who are born warriors, andwho inhabit Jebel-ed-Druze, he places at 50, 000. Besides these there arethe Beni Sukhr, and other local tribes, whose fanaticism and cupiditywould be moved by the presence of a prosperous colony of foreigners. 

On April 12, 1875, Dr. Thomson and I started from Der'a in asouthwesterly direction over wavy hills covered with splendid wheat, thesides of the way ablaze with anemones. As we approached Remthey, we sawwhat in the miragy atmosphere seemed a row of trees fifteen or twentymiles long. I had been over the path before, and I was struck with thisnew feature in the landscape. Soon it seemed to us that the line, as faras we could see, was in motion, and as we approached closer to it, wefound that it was composed of camels. We spurred our horses, and soon wefound ourselves by the side of the great living stream of the Wuld 'AlyArabs moving from the Arabian Desert to the pastures of Jaulan. Theprocession marched six or seven abreast, and in families of from 20 to150. The camels had curious baskets fixed on their humps, and in thesewere stowed women and children, and kids and dogs, while cookingutensils were hung all round the baskets, and by the sides of their damstrotted little baby camels. The stream flowed past silent and orderly, with here and there a spearman riding by the side of his family. Atshort intervals flocks of sheep and goats marched parallel with theliving stream. 

A party of Arab horsemen were reclining on a little hill with theirspears stuck in the ground watching their people pass. We rode up tothem, and their chief received us with great courtesy, and urged us toawait the arrival of the cavalry with the Sheikh, to whom I had oncedone a favour which they remembered. We remained about an hour, andstill the stream flowed past. The Arabs told us they had begun to moveat an early hour, and would continue on the march for days, and as faras we could see, looking north and south, the procession was withoutbreak or pause. They told us they could bring into the field 100, 000fighting men, and their people, they said, was "like the sand of thesea. " Never before or since have I seen such a swarm of human beings--"amultitude that no man could number. " Any trans-Jordanic colony wouldhave to calculate on the proximity of this horde, whose power has neverbeen broken, not even by Joshua nor Ibrahîm Pasha, and whose rule intheir own land is supreme in virtue of their resistless might. Even theTurkish Government bribe the Arabs in this region to let the Mohammedanpilgrims pass to Mecca! How much black-mail would the prosperous colonyof infidels have to pay for permission to exist in the land of thefaithful? And supposing arrangements could be made to secure thetolerance of the Bedawîn, there would still remain the Druzes andCircassians, and local sub-tribes and aggrieved _fellahîn_, who wouldform combinations to which an agricultural colony could offer noeffective resistance. 

Mr. Oliphant speaks of driving the Arabs "back across the _Hadj_ road, where a small cordon of soldiers, posted in the forts which now existupon it, would be sufficient to keep them in check. " Turkish soldierswould not be the slightest protection to a prosperous colony ofinfidels, nor would a small cordon of any soldiers suffice, should thecolony ever become a tempting prize. 

In the spring of 1874, a small party of us were returning from Palmyra, and a few miles beyond Karyetein we passed close by a desperate battlein progress between the Giath and Amour Arabs, and a powerful caravanproceeding from Baghdad to Damascus. The camels of the caravan wereformed into a circular rampart, the head of one camel being made fast tothe next; and from behind this living rampart the hardy villagers, whowere bringing provisions for their families from beyond the Euphrates, defended themselves throughout a long summer day--the sound of thebattle being distinctly heard by the Turkish garrison at Karyetein. TheBedawîn galloped round the circle, making a feint here and an attackthere until the villagers were worn out and their ammunition exhausted. Near sunset a wounded camel staggered and fell, and broke the line. Thecircle opened out and became a crescent. Quick as lightning the Bedawînrushed in at the breach, the camels fled in panic in all directions, andthe wiry Arabs with their flashing spears decided the victory in a fewminutes. I had full details of the fight afterwards from the victors andthe vanquished. The Bedawîns took possession of 120 loads of butter, anda large amount of tobacco, dates, Persian carpets, horses, mules, andcamels, valued at £4, 000. All the caravan people, dead and alive, werestripped naked in the desert. What did the Bedawîn do with 120 loads ofbutter? They had it brought into Damascus and sold publicly. What didthe Bedawîn do with the splendid carpets from the looms of Persia andCashmere? They distributed them among their powerful friends inDamascus, in return for efficient protection, and some of the best foundtheir way into the gorgeous saloons of those whose duty it was toadminister justice. One of my friends found three of his camels in thehands of the robbers' friends, and though he got several orders from theGovernment for the restoration of his property, he could never get themcarried out. The above incident, of which I have complete details, maybe interesting to those who have any idea of entrusting their lives andproperty to the Bedawîn hordes and the protecting Turk. 

And what is true of the land of Gilead is true of all lands borderingthe Desert. In the north-east of Syria there is as fine a peasantry asis to be found anywhere. They are handsome and courteous, thoughpicturesque in rags. They are thrifty and frugal, but penniless andstarving. They are comparatively truthful and honest, but without creditor resources. They have broad acres which only require to be scratchedand they bring forth sixty-fold; but they cultivate little patchessurrounded with mud walls and within range of their matchlocks. Duringthe greater part of the year these poor people dare not walk over theirown fields for fear of being stripped of their tattered rags. And yetthese are the most heavily taxed peasantry in the world. They pay_black-mail_ to the Bedawîn, who plunder them notwithstanding; and theypay taxes to the Turks, who give them no protection. The Bedawîn enforcetheir claims by cutting off the ears of any straggling villagers fromdefaulting villages, who fall within their power, and by carrying offfor ransom a number of village children into the Desert. The Turksenforce their claims by imprisoning the Sheikhs of the villages tillthey have paid the uttermost farthing. With protection and fairgovernment, the peasantry of Northern Syria would be among the happiestin the world. But in their land, what the Turkish caterpillar leaves theBedawy locust devours. 

 * * * * *

From the foregoing remarks it is evident that the agricultural resourcesof Syria and Palestine are very great, and capable, under goodgovernment, of being largely developed: that the difficultiesencountered by those who invest capital in land in Syria and Palestineare such as to deter immigrants from embarking in agriculturalenterprises under Turkish rule in that land: and that immigrants inSyria and Palestine would be exposed to great personal dangers, whichwould increase in proportion to the success of their labours. 

 WM. WRIGHT. 

FOOTNOTES:

[56] "The Land of Gilead, " p. 295. 

[57] Ph[oe]nicia, the Greek [Greek: phoinikê], has been by some derivedfrom [Greek: phoinix], a palm tree. 

[58] Vice-Consul Jago, writing from Damascus, March, 1880, says:--"Withregard to the property near the Damascus Lakes, it is on the edge of theDesert where no authority exists, and therefore exposed to Bedawînraids. " He summarizes the agricultural products of the neighbourhood ofDamascus as:--"Wheat, barley, maize (white and yellow), beans, peas, lentils, kerané, gelbané, bakié, belbé, fessa, boraké (the last sevenbeing green crops for cattle food), aniseed, sésamé, tobacco, shuma, olive, and liquorice root. The fruits are grapes, hazel, walnut, almond, pistachio, currant, mulberry, fig, apricot, peach, apple, pear, quince, plum, lemon, citron, melon, berries of various kinds, and a few oranges. The vegetables are cabbage, potatoes, artichokes, tomatoes, beans, wildtruffles, cauliflower, egg-plant, celery, cress, mallow, beetroot, cucumber, radish, spinach, lettuce, onions, leeks, &c. "--_Report_, datedDamascus, March 14, 1881. To these might be added numerous otherproducts, such as bitumen, soda, salt, hemp, cotton, madder-root, wool, &c. 

[59] "The Land of Gilead, " p. 19. 

[60] "Tent Work in Palestine, " p. 355. 

[61] "Tent Work in Palestine, " p. 361. 

[62] _Ibid. _ p. 372. 

[63] "The Land of Gilead, " p. 330. 

[64] Beyrout, July 11, 1876. 

[65] "The Land of Gilead, " p. 131. 

[66] "Tent Work in Palestine, " p. 361. 

[67] "The Land of Gilead, " p. 146. 

[68] _Ibid. _ p. 103. 

[69] "Land of Gilead, " p. 21. 

[70] _Ibid. _ p. 23. 

[71] "The Land of Gilead, " p. 255. 

THE CONSERVATIVE DILEMMA. 

All is not as well as it should be with the Conservative party. Justwhen a succession of misfortunes has lowered its credit with the world, it is harassed with mutiny in the camp. Both sides have taken the publicinto their confidence. "Two Conservatives" lately figured on adistinguished rostrum and retailed their grievances. A month later "Twoother Conservatives" stood up on the same spot and answered theimpeachment. These dual appearances are rather puzzling. In the case ofthe first couple it may be that they fixed upon the figure "2" as a neatdivisor, and while sending one-half of their force to the front kept theother half in reserve to defend the rear. This explanation will not holdgood for the second couple. The party loyalists can hardly have beenreduced to such insignificant proportions. Why, then, should they havehit upon the odd device of delivering their apologetics in pairs? Issuspicion so rampant in their ranks that no one man can be trusted? Isthe drawing up of a reply to the insurgents so ticklish a business thattwo heads are needed for its satisfactory performance? Or are we to seein this circumstance merely another sign of the fatal dualism whichpervades the party, and has already rent Elijah's mantle in twain?

Instead of attempting to solve these mysteries let us turn to theindictment. There, at any rate, are certain things set down in black andwhite, and some progress may be made in useful knowledge without anydesire to be wise above what is written. The manifesto drawn up by the"Two Conservatives" is not altogether edifying reading. At a firstglance it reminds us of a round-robin got up in the servants' hall forthe purpose of springing a mine upon the steward and housekeeper, or ofthe whisperings sometimes heard in the lower ranks of a mercantileestablishment where a conviction prevails that nothing but discreetpromotion will save the firm. Some of the complaints set forth fall farbeneath this level. They deal with tiffs and slights and rebuffs. Services have not been compensated according to the estimate of thosewho rendered them. Good things have been given to the wrong men, whilemodest merit has been left out in the cold. Lord Beaconsfield had, itseems, a Figaro in his employ who fed him with judicious doses offlattery and ministered to his blameless vices. The Figaro system has, we are given to understand, been kept up, and the great men of the partytake care to live in an atmosphere of adulation. The Dukes meet withhard treatment. It is difficult to see how these unhappy beings are togive satisfaction. They are faithless to their principles if they standaloof; they do wrong if they come down to scatter their smiles and theirpatronage among the crowd. Their absence looks like treason while theirpresence demoralizes. In both cases they are mischievous. What are theyto do?

On the whole it is held to be best for the welfare of the party that thearistocratic chiefs should forthwith perform the "happy despatch. " Theysaved it by their secession from its councils in 1868; they ruined it in1874 when they rushed back to claim their share of the spoils. There issome truth in the representation. It is not easy to forget the patheticspectacle which Mr. Disraeli presented at the former period. By hissuppleness and audacity he had forced his party through the crises of arevolution which they had denounced beforehand, and the consequences ofwhich they contemplated with dismay. Over against their fears there wasnothing to be put but their leader's assurances that everything wouldcome right. They had taken "a leap in the dark, " they had staked thefortunes of the party on the dice-box, and events were to decide theissue. When the blow came Mr. Disraeli's reputation for sagacity fell tozero. At last the hollowness of his pretensions was detected, and therewas no mincing of epithets for the man who had befooled and destroyed agreat party. The Dukes left him to himself, and, according to ourpresent informant, their flight was the harbinger of reviving fortunes. The heart of provincial conservatism warmed to its deserted chief. Thepatriotic sentiments of the people began to stir. Constitutionalassociations sprang up in the large towns. The reaction grew apace whenthe party was left face to face with one great man. When in 1874 themost sanguine prophecies were fulfilled, the Dukes could not have beenmore surprised if Moses and the Prophets had dropt from the clouds tochide their unbelief. They made what amends they could for their formerincivilities. They gathered with prodigious hum about the great man, overwhelmed him with disinterested plaudits, and settled downcomfortably to the feast which his genius had spread. From that moment, so we are assured, decay set in. Aristocratic patronage soon paralyzedthe rude energies which had won the victory. The Carlton again began topay the bills and pull the strings. Then in due time came the blacknight of defeat, when moon and stars disappeared, and Toryism wasplunged into a deeper gulf than ever. The lesson is plain. Roll up youraristocratic trumpery, and give the party a leader. What it wants is aman strong enough to pull it out of the slough and set it on its legsagain. 

The burden of the manifesto of the Two Conservatives is the want of aleader, and an exhaustive process of exclusion shows among whom he is_not_ to be found. The acting chiefs of the party are made to pass infile before us, as the sons of Jesse passed before the prophet Samuelwhen he wished to ascertain which of them was the predestined King ofIsrael. Not this man, nor this, nor this, but is there not yet another?Yes, there was one among the sheepfolds who little wotted of thegreatness in store for him. The David of whom the Conservative Samuelsare in search can pretend perhaps to no such unconsciousness of hismission. A genius for opposition pushes him to the front and flashes inspeech and print. He is content probably to put up with the leadershipof the Lower House, assured that, with the Conservative commonalty athis back, his talents will soon win for him a complete ascendancy. Meanwhile it is proved to demonstration that none of the acting chiefsare fit for the post. Sir Richard Cross and Mr. W. H. Smith, "great asare many of their qualities, do not entirely possess those that arenecessary to secure the plenary confidence of a party. " Sir MichaelHicks-Beach comes nearest the mark, "but, either from patience orindolence, he has not seen fit since 1880 to put forward his bestenergies. " In Lord George Hamilton and Mr. Stanhope "there lurks greatpromise, " but they lack years and experience. "Mr. Lowther is daring, but not always fortunate in his daring. " They may all stand aside. It isclear that none of the six will do. There is Mr. Gibson, but "he is alawyer and an Irishman of the Irish. " As for Sir Stafford Northcote, heis a respectable man, with a host of respectable qualities, but "he istoo amiable for his ambition, which is great, and in trying to play adouble part, that of caution and daring, he is at times taxed beyond hisstrength. " Besides, the House of Commons did not choose him. He was"chosen for them. " There is as yet no active disaffection towards him, "but of latent dissatisfaction abundance, and of active loyalty none. "Was there ever such a beggarly account of empty boxes? Did anybody eversee such an array of political numskulls? Not among these at any rate isthe party to find its leader. We must look for him among those whosenames have been left out of the enumeration. His blushes are certainlyunseen, though his fragrance may not be wasted on the desert air. 

The double manifesto of the mutineers is remarkable for theobliviousness it displays of everything higher than personal and partyinterests. It reads like the minute-book of a Caucus. With a few verbalalterations it might pass for a description of the quarrels between the"Stalwarts" and the "Half-breeds. " When Mr. Gibson befools LordSalisbury over the Arrears Bill the comment is, "What a cry for thecountry!" The Egyptian question suggests a hope that Egypt may deliverthe Conservatives from their Irish connections and enable them to agreeupon a leader. The preference shown for county over borough members isjotted down as a serious grievance. The use made of social influencecomes in for a share of lamentation. Here we seem to get within thesmell of soup, the bustle of evening receptions, and the smiles ofdowagers. The cares which weigh upon this couple of patriot souls cannotbe described as august. It is hardly among such petty anxieties that theupholders of the Empire and the pilots of the State are bred. The menwho bemoan such wrongs can scarcely aspire to be the sages and ornamentsof a legislature that gives laws to a fifth part of the human race. Itis assuredly not in an outburst of wounded egotism that we should expectto find any trace of that noble pride which delights in subordinationfor public ends, and is willing to forget and to be forgotten in commonservices rendered to the nation. If we were not assured that we havebeen conversing for half an hour with two fair specimens of the chivalryof the land, we should almost suspect that we had been listening to theconfidences of a couple of retired but aspiring soap-boilers. 

The criticisms of the "Two Conservatives" are not wholly destructive. Asone fabric collapses, we begin to see the graceful outlines of another, for which a top-stone is already prepared. The question of theleadership is complicated by the requirements of the two Houses, butthere is not much doubt as to the direction in which the quiveringneedle will finally point. Notwithstanding the gibes which have beenflung at the aristocrats of the party, an aristocratic chief isnecessary to lead an aristocratic assembly, and the only possibleselection is already made. Lord Cairns stands dangerously near thecentre of power, but the same may be said of him as of Mr. Gibson, "Heis a lawyer and an Irishman of the Irish. " The noble lord, moreover, isobjectionable on the spiritual side of his character. To a HighChurchman he smacks a little of the conventicle, and is given to"exercises" at unauthorized times and places. His university escutcheonis dim and stained compared with that of Oxford's Chancellor. On thewhole Lord Cairns can never be a serious rival for the first place amongthe peers of England. 

Lord Salisbury is equipped with many of the qualifications that arenecessary or held to be desirable in a party leader. He is a member ofthe higher aristocracy. He can boast of ancestors who played adistinguished part in the politics of Europe three centuries ago. Thiscircumstance appeals to the imagination and confers a legitimateadvantage. He served an apprenticeship in the House of Commons. Onsucceeding to the peerage he did not lose a moment in making hisinfluence felt in the Upper House. In one of his earliest speeches hestartled the peers by telling them that if they did not choose to asserttheir constitutional rights they would consult their dignity by ceasingto be a House at all. He has had much experience in State affairs. Whathe did at the India Office and as Foreign Secretary is too well known tothe world. Lord Salisbury's oratorical gifts are undeniable. He is oneof a select half-dozen taken from either House who stand first in thepower of moving a popular assembly. Lord Beaconsfield said that he"wanted finish. " The remark was more spiteful than true. Lord Salisburycould not rival his chief in the neatness and polish of an epigram, butjust as little could Lord Beaconsfield rival him in the unstudied gracesof oratory. His speeches have a freedom and a rhythmical flow whichcaptivate the hearer. Though he gives full play to his imagination andrecklessly faces the risks to which an impetuous speaker is exposed, heis seldom stilted, and rarely breaks the neck of a sentence. Here, perhaps, the favourable side of the catalogue should end. His speecheshave the great blemish of insolence. They are wanting in geniality, andapparently wanting in reflectiveness. They contain too little thoughtand more than enough of gall. Perhaps their cleverness is too obtrusive. His hearers are pleased, but they suspect a trick, and levy a discounton his argument. The faults of his speeches are his faults as apolitician. He is headstrong and impulsive. He borrows his ideas fromhis passions, and fancies he is sagacious when he is but following thebent of his uppermost desire. He has but little sympathy with modernlife and but a narrow comprehension of its facts. He is under the spellof long-descended traditions, and would prefer, if he could have it so, the England of the Tudors to the England of Victoria. Of the people andof the spirit which animates them he knows nothing. How should he? Savethe rustics of Hatfield, he has never seen them, except from a platform. His occasional references to such a subject as English Nonconformityshows the depth of his benightedness; and his ignorance, the voluntaryand superb ignorance of the aristocrat and the High Churchman, is thesource of many of his blunders. Knowing nothing of the ground in front, he forces a leap and comes down in the ditch, and his friends with him. 

Lord Salisbury is indispensable, and as nothing will cure him of hisfaults the only plan is to keep him out of the path of temptation. Theway to do this, we are told, is to fill the front bench in the House ofCommons with the right sort of men. Thus his qualifications for theleadership depend upon the choice which may be made of a leader for theLower House. Everything points to that as the one crucial business. The"Two Conservatives" seem to have a special grudge against Mr. Gibson, perhaps because, unlike Sir Stafford Northcote, he is not too amiablefor his ambition, and has lately been making a formidable bid for power. Hence we are told how absurd it is to think for a moment of Mr. Gibson. He is a member for the University of Dublin and might just as well be amember of the House of Keys or of the States of Jersey. Lord Salisburywould never have made such a humiliating display over the Arrears Billif he had not been misled by Mr. Gibson. Hence it is necessary to keepthe hon. And learned gentleman in the background if the party is not tobe doomed to endless blunders, and driven, sheer beyond the range ofEnglish sympathies. 

The attack on Sir Stafford Northcote is conducted with greater caution, but with the same fell design. We are told that Lord Salisbury'sselection for the leadership on Lord Beaconsfield's death was opposed bya near relative of Sir Stafford's, and lost by one vote. Then comes thesuggestion that Mr. Disraeli would not have left the House of Commonsfor the Upper House if he had not believed that Mr. Gladstone hadfinally retired from the leadership of the Opposition. In other words, had he foreseen the course of events he would not have entrusted theleadership of the House to Sir Stafford Northcote. There is a vicioushit in the picture of Sir Stafford sitting between Mr. W. H. Smith andMr. Lowther, yielding by turns to the caution of the one and the daringof the other, and showing himself unequal to the double part. Impartialobservers will, perhaps, admit that Sir Stafford Northcote's chief faultis a want of backbone. He has not enough of confidence in himself. Hewould be a better politician if he were not so good a man. He needs tobe armed either with the power of kicking out, or with imperturbablecomposure. This latter is the more useful and more dignified endowment, but it springs from a sense of self-sufficiency which fails him. If hehad but the gift of epigram he might escape from his tormentors. Theplague of it is that he never succeeds except when he reasons like a manof sense, and weapons forged on this anvil are too blunt to pierce thethick hide of impudence. 

No evil has befallen Sir Stafford Northcote but such as is common tomen. It seems but the other day when Lord Robert Cecil was playing thesame freaks that Lord Randolph Churchill is playing now. Our friendFluellen would perhaps say, "the situations, look you, is both alike. "Either of the noble names would pass for the other if they were writtenwith initials and dashes in eighteenth century style. In those days thelate Lord Derby was the Conservative chief, and Mr. Disraeli led theOpposition in the Commons as his lieutenant. This arrangement nettledthe young blood of the Conservative _noblesse_. Lord Robert Cecil'soutlook in the world was not then what it afterwards became. He was ayounger son with a career to make for himself. Ambition can supplyspurs, so can prudence, so can necessity, and so can all three combined. The younger son of a great house enters upon political life at anenormous advantage over humbler rivals. If there is any brilliancy abouthim his fortune is made. Lord Robert Cecil's influence was sufficient toproduce a succession of small insurrectionary earthquakes on theOpposition benches. Old members from the shires nudged each other intheir bucolic way and asked what was the matter, learning with puzzledamusement that there were some who did not think it quite right for thegentlemen of England to be led by a Semitic adventurer. But the Semiticadventurer had the gifts of his race. He was primed to the throat withcontempt and scorn, too cold and measured withal for the slightest showof insolence. As each hurly-burly ended and the dust settled, he wasfound sitting where he always meant to sit, just as if nothing hadhappened, with the same impassive look and the same indomitable calm. Hehad one great advantage external to himself. He knew that he could placeunbounded confidence in the loyalty of his chief in the Upper House, andso long as Lord Derby stood by him the insurgent school-boys on theback-benches could do him no harm. Perhaps Sir Stafford Northcotecannot count upon the same support, but then his own resources aregreater, if he did but know it. 

The truth is that Sir Stafford Northcote represents the only type ofConservatism that can survive in the present state of political thoughtin England. It is not a brilliant type, but that is the fault ofhistory. Enough that it may be a useful one. Toryism has undergone aprocess of inverse development which resembles decay, but which ismerely an accommodation to the existing conditions of life and health. The figments which used to furnish it with sustenance are dead. Thedivine right of kings, which nourished as a sentiment long after it wasdisowned by the laws, has at last gone spark out. The divine rights ofthe Church have followed suit. The legal abuses which were clung to as asymbol of the unchangeableness of English institutions are being sweptaway. The monopoly of political power which gave the right of governingthe realm as a perquisite to a few patrician families has been brokendown. The compromise which transferred the old privileges of thearistocracy to the middle classes has had to be abandoned. The"advancing tide of democracy" at which men looked through a telescopetwenty years ago, wondering at what comparatively remote period it wouldreach our shores, has already reached us, and the waters are stillrising. The superstitions formerly attaching to the possession of land, to hereditary descent, to ancestral titles, to the feudal pretensions ofthe squirearchy, are all dissipating into thin air. If it is not yetproved whether science is a democratic power, at any rate it asserts thepredominance of natural laws, and at their fiat artificial distinctionsmust tend to disappear. 

In such a state of things what part is left for Conservatism to play?Mr. Disraeli asked and answered the same question when he began hiswitches' dance. What have you to conserve? Nothing! The answer is nottrue. There is much that may be conserved for a long time to come, andwhen it can no longer be conserved in its present shape something willhave to be said as to the altered form it shall assume. One thing iscertain. Conservatism cannot emancipate itself from the conditions ofthe age. It may indeed turn hermit and shut itself up in parsonages andmanor-houses, but if it is still to be a political power it can onlyplan and achieve what is possible. It accepts, and cannot but accept, the law of progress as the rule of legislation, and the only arbiter towhom it can appeal is the national will. But you may advance slowly orrapidly, you may resort to modifications and compromises instead ofsweeping things bodily away. In establishing a preference on thesequestions there is abundant room for popular advocacy. The people arenot swayed by pure reason. They are actuated to a great extent by theirprejudices and their passions. They must be taken as they are, andrecent experience shows that it is difficult to say beforehand what andhow much may not be made out of them. Unorganized groups of men are sohelpless, oratory has so much power, the small vices of the mind have sostrong a tendency to pass into politics, that a wide field will long beopen to propagandists of every kind. It sometimes seems as if theobstacles to be overcome might be too great for the reformers, and thatthe "children of light" must adjourn their efforts till the millenniumis a little nearer. It is the spread of education and the silent workingof intellectual influences springing from the higher knowledge of theage that puts the better chances on their side. But Conservatism has itschances too, only it must not frighten the people with antiquatednonsense. It must fall in with current ideas. It must set up on thewhole similar aims to those of its opponents, merely asking a preferencefor other methods. Above all, it must be modest and sober and give upbounce and slap-dash. The people are becoming more serious. They reasonmore on politics and with better lights; a sense of power teaches themself-respect, and they resent clap-trap. Perhaps I ought to ask pardonfor saying so, but they can see through a merely clever man, like LordSalisbury. A Liberal would find Sir Stafford Northcote a more formidableantagonist. He might be more eloquent, but eloquence is not everything. A gentle persuasiveness, even with a spice of puzzledom in it, will gofurther in the end. The Conservative mutineers know not what they aredoing when they try to demolish this type of Conservatism. Or perhapsthey do know, but are bent upon objects which, from a personal point ofview, are attended with compensations. But the future of Conservatismdoes not rest with them unless they change their ideas and manners. Thestaying power and the fitness of things are on the side of those whom, with the ribald audacity of youth, they deride as slow-coaches. 

The "Two Conservatives" are not prepared to accept this humble _rôle_. They meditate something heroic. They say that "if the Conservative partyis to continue to exist as a power in the State it must become a popularparty;" "that the days are past when an exclusive class, however greatits ability, wealth, and energy, can command a majority in theelectorate. " "The liberties and interests of the people at large, " theysay, "are the only things which it is possible now to conserve: therights of property, the Established Church, the House of Lords, and theCrown itself, must be defended on the ground that they are institutionsnecessary or useful to the preservation of civil and religious freedom, and can be maintained only so far as the people take this view of theirsubsistence. " These are the principles of democracy. It is here laiddown that the people are the only legitimate court of appeal onpolitical questions, and that the decision rests, and ought to rest, with the numerical majority. Before this court the most venerableinstitutions of the realm may be brought to have their merits sifted, and an adverse verdict is to be followed by a writ of execution. Theonly test by which they are to be judged is their utility. If theyfail to stand it they are to be voted nuisances. The standard of utilityis not to be the interests or the supposed rights of any person orclass, but the interests of the whole people. The people themselves areto decide what is meant by their liberties, how far they extend, andwhat other interests shall be superadded in making out the standardtowards which our institutions shall approximate. 

If these are the principles of Neo-conservatism, our case is made outwith a superfluity of proof. Of course there is a pretence of acting onthese principles already. When a measure is before Parliament it isassumed that the sole issue in dispute is its utility. The Conservativedebater recognizes the decisiveness of this test just as freely as hisopponents. But these principles have not been openly avowed by theConservatives. The "hypocrisy" with which Mr. Disraeli taunted themstill flourishes in the form of amiable prepossessions. A vast mass ofmystic and traditional lumber still enters into the foundations ofConservatism, and if all this "wood, hay, and stubble" were to be burntup it would fare ill with the frail fabric overhead. The practicalpolicy of Conservatism would not alter, and could not be altered much, but its pretensions would have to be pitched in a lower key, and theexcessive modesty of the part which alone remains to it in the politicsof the future would be put beyond dispute. 

It would be interesting to see this theory of Conservatism, quietlyadmitted though it be into the working details of legislation, hawkedfor acceptance among the Opposition benches, and note the result. Whatis this new creed of yours? we can fancy the hon. And gallant member forLoamshire ejaculating. That there must be no class influence inpolitics? That any half-dozen hinds on my estate are as good as so manydukes? That the will of the people is the supreme political tribunal?That if a majority at the polls bid us abolish the Church and toss theCrown into the gutter we are forthwith to be their most obedientservants? And you tell me that I can profess this horrible creed withoutceasing to be a Tory! Before I could with a spark of honesty so much asparley with it I should have to crave a seat among the red-hot gentlemenyonder below the gangway. And the hon. And gallant member would only saythe truth. Privilege is the mint mark of Toryism, exclusiveness is itslife and soul. The doctrine of equal rights must be in everlastingrepugnance to it. Toryism is the political expression of feudalizedsociety, with lords and squires at the top, subservient dependantshalf-way down, and a mass of brutalized serfs at the bottom. It has beencomparatively humanized by modern influences, but nothing can change thebent of its genius. With privilege vested interests of all sorts enterinto ready fellowship. All those good citizens who have reason tosuspect that if a public inquest sat upon them the verdict would not befavourable hasten to edge themselves in as closely as possible towardsthe privileged circle. The village rector, who does his duty with allthe conscientiousness of a beneficed Christian, but who prizes his glebeand tithe, rushes to Cambridge to swell the majority for Mr. Raikes. Gentlemen of the long robe who make politics a vocation gravitate forsome reason or other towards Liberalism; but the lower branch of theprofession displays an opposite tendency. The county lawyer, who makestwo-thirds of his income out of the mysteries of conveyancing, hasreason to dislike such things as the registration of titles, and thetransfer of estates by a few sentences extracted from a public record. The licensed victuallers, tens of thousands strong and with more than ahundred millions of invested capital, dread the change which would givethem a quiet Sunday in return for a seventh of their profits. Thestrength of Toryism lies in this phalanx of vested interests and socialprivileges. The golden chain reaches from squire to Boniface, and stilllower in the social scale, wherever some snug little peculium is foundto nestle. The principles of Neo-Conservatism would rend the structurefrom top to bottom. The doctrine that the solution of all our politicalproblems and the fate of all our institutions are simply an affair ofnumerical majorities at the ballot-box, and that the interests of thepeople are the sole end of legislation, is enough of itself to smash theparty to atoms. 

All sensible politicians admit that if the time should come when a largemajority of the people are adverse to monarchical institutions it willbe vain to think of maintaining them by force. It may be added thatsensible politicians seldom discuss such questions. They have too muchpresent work on hand to trouble themselves about the remote and theunknown. "What thy hand findeth to do" is their motto, and out of thefaithful achievements of to-day will the better future spring. Nevertheless bare possibilities sometimes present themselves asconundrums to be unravelled, and to the conundrum in question there isno second answer. But it is one thing to quietly accept a propositionand then let it drop out of sight; it is another to run it up to the topof the flag-staff as the symbol of a great party. This is what the"Neo-conservatives" propose to do with their recent discovery. Anopinion of the Crown's utility is to determine whether it shall bepreserved or destroyed. When the majority of the people cry "Away withit, " away it is to go. As soon as the popular fiat is announced, theSovereign will depart from Windsor, the Life Guards will present arms tothe President of the Republic, and in the twinkling of an eye, as theresult of a contested election, the Monarchy of England is to bedecorously carried to the tomb. This is the doctrine which Tory lordsand squires are asked to proclaim with sound of trumpet as thecorner-stone of their political creed. "Only so far as the people takethis view of its subsistence"--this is to be the Tory patent for the"subsistence" of the Crown. Rather different this from the old cry:--

 "Ere the King's Crown go down there are crowns to be broke. "

It is true that the peers no longer wear coats of mail, or lead theirvassals to the field of battle. Of most of them it is hardlydisrespectful to suppose that on critical occasions they would preferthe rear of the army to the van. But the creed is not quite extinct thatthere are things worth fighting for, and that among them are theMonarchy of England and the rights of the Crown. For practical purposes, perhaps, the creed is obsolete, but it lives in the imagination, and thesentiments which spring from it are part of the cement of Toryism. Thesolemn abjuration which is now proposed in the name of Neo-conservatismresembles a charge of dynamite. 

But in abandoning Tory principles the leaders of the new movement hopeperhaps to drive a roaring trade by defending Tory institutions. Theywill say that they have been obliged to shift their ground, but thatthey hope to work with better results from their new position. Thebusiness of the party is to prevail upon Household Suffrage to acceptthe survivals of feudalism, and a verdict in the new court of appealthat shall ratify the old creed. It is a creditable enterprise. Will itsucceed? It seems but too likely that the efforts contemplated will onlyserve to weaken the institutions they are meant to defend, and thatwhatever is practicable or desirable in the objects aimed at will besecured most easily and most effectually by the Liberal party. 

Among the political institutions of an old country there are some whichcertainly would not be set up if the past were obliterated, and thenation were beginning afresh. They were suitable to the times in whichthey originated, but they are out of harmony with the tendencies of thepresent day. Perhaps they do some good; at any rate they do not do muchharm, and the people tolerate them for the sake of old associations. From this point of view a great deal may be said in their behalf. Theymake visible the continuity of our national existence, they connect uswith a distant and romantic past, they lend to the State something ofdignity and poetic charm. Institutions of this sort may be held inveneration by those who can trace them to their origin, and see them inperspective from the beginning. But there is one test they will notstand. They will not pass unscathed through the crucible of moderncriticism. They are disfigured by anomalies, they shelter many abuses, they involve an expenditure of public money out of proportion to theservices rendered in return, they consecrate a privileged descent, inthe transmission of property they violate the rules of natural equity, while the principles on which they rest need only to be developed andapplied with logical consistency to overthrow the fabric of politicalfreedom. The best service that can be rendered to such institutions isto say as little as possible about them. A wise friend will not utter aword in their defence unless they are assailed, and the ground selectedfor defence will then be carefully limited to the dimensions of theattack. The next best service will be to remove from them as occasionoffers all unsightly excrescences, to put an end to any anomaly which isbeginning to excite remark, and to amend any faults of mechanism whichare likely to produce a jar. Such a policy of discriminating reserve maylengthen out their existence indefinitely. But to force them to thefront, to exalt them as the ripest product of political wisdom, to holdthem forth as necessary to the maintenance of the civil and religiousliberties of the people, --this can only be the work of designingadversaries or of blundering friends. As a basis of party action itwould be like sand. It would be levelled by the mocking tides of popularcriticism. 

The programme of the "Two Conservatives" begins with a grand item, theconservation of the liberties of the people. But why "conserve?" Why notextend and advance them? Why should the present stage in the historicalgrowth of our liberties be selected as the point at which conservationbecomes a duty? Would not the party which undertakes the task to-day bebetter pleased if there were fewer of them to conserve? The Tories havealways been adepts at conservation, but the things they have been mostwilling to conserve were not our liberties but the restrictions put uponour liberties. Since the liberties now proposed to be conserved areassumed to be threatened by the Liberals, they must be liberties of aspecial sort, such as liberty to spread infection, liberty to dispensewith vaccination, liberty to send uninspected ships to sea, to keepchildren away from school, or to send them out at any age to work in thefields, the factory, or the streets. "Personal rights" have good radicalsponsors in the hon. Members for Stockport and Leicester. PerhapsParliament as a whole is the best sponsor. The Neo-conservativeprogramme should tell us what is meant by the liberties of the people. The absence of definition may perhaps cover an imposture. 

The next object of Neo-conservative devotion is the maintenance of therights of property. Those rights are of no private interpretation, andbelong to sociology rather than to politics. Every man is interested inthem who has anything to lose, or who has a chance of acquiringanything. Hence they cannot be claimed as an appanage of Toryism. Theyare placed under the common championship of all parties. But theexclusive claim set up must have some meaning. The rights of propertyintended may perhaps be the rights of property as understood by thelandlords, in which sense they may include a right to the property ofother people; or as understood by the association of which Lord Elcho ispresident, in which sense they stand in opposition to the rights of thepublic. We know what is meant by the rights of landed proprietors, ofrailway corporations, of publicans, of property owners, of shipowners, of pawnbrokers and of corporate bodies, such as the guilds of the cityof London. They represent the pretensions of these classes to have theirinterests preferred to those of the community. It is a case ofprescription against equity, of the license assumed by special callingsagainst the checks and guarantees which Parliament has found itnecessary to impose for the general welfare. This is a field in whichNeo-conservatism can reap no harvest. It will be vain to tell theworking man who is the owner of the house in which he lives, that hisrights are in the same boat with the right of London companies tosquander or misapply the wealth which has descended to them from theMiddle Ages. It will be useless to enter an appeal before the tribunalof public opinion in defence of such rights as these on the pretencethat they are the rights of property. The unsophisticated reason of theconstituencies will resent the assumption as an attempted fraud. 

The political institutions which are to be set forth as necessary to themaintenance of the civil and religious liberties of the people are theEstablished Church, the House of Lords, and the Crown. Of the Crown wehave already spoken. It is the least vulnerable of the three, and forthis reason it is the least fitted to furnish a party cry. The strengthof the Crown resides in its enormous historical _prestige_, and in theconstitutional device, old as the monarchy in principle, but modern inits machinery, by which it is removed from the sphere of responsibilityand therefore from party assault. The Crown need not be defended for itis not assailed. If it were assailed there are sufficient grounds for anadequate, perhaps a triumphant, defence. But in mere truth it would bedifficult to defend it on the special ground that it is necessary to themaintenance of our civil and religious liberties. Everybody knows thatthese liberties were won in despite of the Crown, and in opposition toits alleged prerogatives. We had to send a dynasty adrift before wecould regard our liberties as moderately secure. No greater disservicecan be done to any institution than to advance exaggerated orill-founded pretensions on its behalf, and this is what Neo-conservatismproposes to do for the Crown. It will be well to keep this institutionoff the hustings. To utilize it for party purposes seems like aninsidious form of treason. The Established Church is fairer game, butabsolutely worthless as a means of raising the wind for a forlorn party. An institution which needs all the support it can get has none to sharewith companions in distress. The Church may have a larger hold upon aportion of the middle classes than it had thirty years ago, but theworking classes are separated from it by a wider gulf. Many who attendits services and call themselves Churchmen are utterly indifferent toits political fate. It is preposterous to represent the EstablishedChurch as necessary to the maintenance of civil and religious freedom. In the course of her history she has been the unrelenting foe of both, and we have no more of either than she could help our having. The wantof disciplinary powers prevents her from interfering with the belief, or, except in grave cases, with the moral conduct of her members, butthe paralysis of the authority necessary for internal discipline is notthe same thing as religious freedom. The bondage of the Church is notthe liberty of the State. Disestablishment has not yet come within therange of practical politics, but if a popular statesman felt it his dutyto bring the question fairly before the electorate, it is at leastdoubtful whether the verdict would not be hostile to the Church. Nodoubt need be entertained as to the result of such an appeal in the caseof the House of Lords. The constitution of the House as an assembly ofhereditary legislators is admitted to be indefensible. Its theoreticprerogatives are tolerated only on the understanding that they shallnever be exerted. It exists by virtue of habit and indifference, aidedby a conviction of its powerlessness. As a decorative institution thereis no great eagerness to pull it down, but whenever the House forgetsthat its functions are ornamental, and commits itself to a serious issuewith the Commons, its last hour will be at hand. The step most likely toprecipitate its doom would be for the Tory party to glorify it as thepalladium of our liberties, and try to get up popular enthusiasm on itsbehalf. The House of Lords would not long survive that treacheroushomage. It would be beaten in one campaign. 

No: from whatever point of view we consider the question, it is plainthat the attempt to reconstruct the Tory party on a Democratic basiscannot succeed. The open avowal of such an aim would deprive Toryism ofall backbone and reduce it to the condition of a moribund jelly-fish. Itis not given to any creature to change its nature and yet continue todischarge its old functions. It is true that Toryism in order to get onat all with the present age is obliged occasionally to act on Liberalprinciples. The device gives no offence so long as it is adoptedquietly, and if suspicions are awakened a few heart-stirring speeches inthe old orthodox vein suffice to allay them. A formal repudiation of oldideas is quite another thing. Just as Utopian is the project ofdefending Tory institutions on Democratic principles. There are twoarsenals from which political combatants may choose their weapons, thehistorical and the scientific. It is from the former that the championequips himself who offers battle on behalf of institutions that havedescended to us from hoar antiquity. Weapons taken from the latter areunfit for such a service. Every blow would recoil upon the institutionwhich it was the champion's aim to defend. To abandon the EstablishedChurch, the House of Lords, and the Crown to the uncovenanted mercies ofmodern political criticism is a rash experiment. The hope which sees insuch an experiment a fresh lease of life and new chances of ascendencyfor Toryism is absurd. 

Yet there is, and always will be, room for a Conservative party inEnglish politics, only it must move along the historic lines, and notneedlessly renounce its old watchwords. We need two brooms to keep ourconstitutional mansion in a tidy state, one in use, the other undergoingrepairs, or put in pickle, and ready to be brought in when wanted. Government by party requires the existence of two parties, and demand isapt to generate supply. It is not necessary that the two parties shouldbe separated by an impassable gulf. It is only necessary that materialsfor two separate connections should be provided, and in this emergencyNature does much to help us. There are opposite moods of mind inpolitics as in literature and art; there are antithetical differences ofintellect and temperament to be found among men of all countries and alltimes; there is the standing opposition between what is and what oughtto be, between the actual and the ideal, between the desire of the poorhuman wayfarer to sit down and rest, and the curiosity which ever lureshim on. Possession and the desire to possess, divine contentment andstill diviner discontent, self-centreing reflectiveness and impulseswhose proper object is the welfare of mankind, --here are agencies whichplay their part in politics as well as in social life. Thesemultifarious forces tend to range themselves on opposite sides, thesympathetic in each class readily finding out their kinsmen in the rest. With such materials to work upon, a Conservatism which chooses to followthe ordinary course of things can never be defunct. Extinction can onlycome from an endeavour after some monstrous birth against which bothNature and history have pronounced their ban. 

 HENRY DUNCKLEY.