UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES THE GIFT OF MAY TREAT MORRISON IN MEMORY OF ALEXANDER F MORRISON ESSAYS AND CRITICISMS ESSAYS AND CRITICISMS BY ST. GEORGE MIVART, F.R.S. IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. I LONDON JAMES K. OSGOOD, M C ILVAINE & CO. 45 ALBEMAELE STREET, W. 1892 [All rights reserved] V, J NOTE ri THE author desires to express his thanks to the editors and publishers of the Quarterly, Edifi- ce = hurgh, Nineteenth Century, Fortnightly, Con- temporary, and other Reviews, for their kind z permission to republish the various articles from each of those periodicals which appear in these u." volumes. < e secure 'from the dominance of appetite, he is ''doubly -fexpo'sed ' to : error,' and it is the knowledge that the area of self-conscious fallibility is ever extending in a world that is elsewhere the product of the harmonious interplay of unconscious forces, which mainly supports the arguments of Yon Hartmann. For language, poetry, art, science, political organisations, and religious systems were all first evolved by man's unconscious efforts almost as the spider weaves his web and as ants and bees congregate in their various social forms of life. But as man's intellectual powers advanced, first one and then another sphere of his activity became the arena of deliberate intention and reflective effort generally with some practical deterioration as its result. It may be said that Adam's fall is the symbol of a process which ever recurs in the great drama of human life. As often as man's eyes become freshly opened by again eating of the tree of self- conscious knowledge, so often does he fall into some relative temporary inferiority. It is but temporary, for the fall is not without the prospect of redemption and the attainment of a higher state, however long and painful may be the efforts needed to attain it. These reflections especially apply to the calamitous accompaniments of that great step in human self-conscious- ness, the French Revolution. Many as had been the ante- cedent aspirations after an ' ideal state,' then for the first time did a whole nation, in the van of civilisation, make the reconstruction of society from its foundation, on certain ' principles,' its self-conscious, deliberate aim. The work first named in the list which heads this article is devoted to the elucidation of the causes of the great cata- strophe, and to the setting forth of its less-known conse- Jacobinism 3 quences; and incidental illustrations are afforded by the works of Mallet-du-Pan and Lord Malmesbury. Some of our readers may be tempted to think that they know enough already about that great political convulsion, and certainly there has been no dearth of ' explanations ' : 'It was all due to the weakness and indecision of the King'; 'its excesses were the result of the treachery of the King and Queen and the dread of foreign invasion; it was the inevitable recoil from antecedent despotism ' ; ' it was the consequence of the oppression of the poor by the nobility, and of the ignorant intolerance of a corrupt church ' ; it was the bursting forth of a new and vigorous social system which had formed itself beneath the old, like the moth within the stem of the chrysalis ' ; ' it arose from the fact that almost all the land was in the hands of large proprietors succeeding each other by primogeniture, or else was held in mortmain'; it was occasioned by the burthens imposed on the occupiers of land by lords of manors, and was, in truth, but a large tumultuous movement to effect the enfranchisement of copyholds.' So vast a convulsion as that initiated in 1789 could never, of course, have taken place but for the fact that many independent circumstances happened then and there to concur in its production. No doubt most of the above suggested causes did co-operate, though we must recollect that the land was much subdivided before 1789, as also that De Tocqueville has once for all shown that, in its essentials, the new system was an exaggeration rather than a reversal of the system which had preceded it. But it will be some time yet before all the causes of the movement are fully known, and thanks are due to M. Tame for having given very valuable aid towards their elucidation. In the first place, he depicts the social system upon which such unexpected ruin so suddenly came its nobility, its clergy, and its urban and rural citizens. As in a forest of 4 Jacobinism old growth the underwood is of comparatively little worth, the more valuable product being accumulated in the larger trees, so in the venerable French social system, still almost intact in 1789, ah 1 that was of the greatest value, intellectually, testhetically, and morally all the choicest products of an ancient civilisation had become concentrated in the Nobility, the Clergy, and what were called the 'Notables.' 1 It is true that many opulent and illustrious noble families had ceased to render services to the State, in proportion to the consideration they enjoyed. There were lords and ladies of the Court, worldly bishops and abbe's, and drawing-room lawyers, who were acquainted with little save the arts of dexterous solicitation, graceful manners, and prodigal expen- diture. An injudicious system of culture had converted them into merely ornamental trees, uselessly cumbering much ground at large cost, and producing far more flowers than fruit. Nevertheless those flowers were exquisite. At that tune the great world of France exhibited a refined politeness and an exquisite polish, the like of which had never been seen before and has not yet been regained. As M. Tame weh 1 says : ' When such refinement exists not only in the drawing-room but in the family circle, in the conduct of business, and in the very streets ; when it characterises the intercourse not only of friends but of superiors with their inferiors, with their servants, and even with a stranger encountered by chance, then it brings to human life both dignity and sweetness. A delicate observance of what is deemed fitting conduct becomes a second, and a better, nature; for that internal code, which governs every detail of speech and action, teaches self-respect as well as consideration for others.' Vol. iii. p. 399. Not only was intellectual, and especially literary, culti- vation then carried to an extreme, but what rich men then most feared was the reputation of being wanting in 'sensi- 1 People who occupied a prominent position independently of the Noblesse for the most part in the towns. Jacobinism 5 bility.' An exaggerated tenderness marred the administra- tion of justice, and rendered those who had force at their command incapable of using it adequately for the repression of crime and outrage, thus giving a fatal licence to revolt. These nobles still showed the same refined culture when they became victims. In prison, while awaiting the scaffold, they dressed with care and conversed with their wonted wit and grace. But, besides some two or three thousand frivolous nobles, there were at least as many others who were in every way estimable, and no less experienced in the serious business of life than in social refinement. It was these who furnished the State with its ambassadors, generals, and ministers, from Marshal de Broglie to Machault and Malesherbes, and with exemplary bishops like De Durfort of Besan9on. It was these, both cleric and lay, who with parliamentary magistrates and rich bourgeois recruited the twenty-one provincial estates of France, from 1778 to 1789, and represented all the capacity, practical information, and good sense of the nation. As regards the army, thirty thousand gentlemen were brought up from childhood for its service. The vast majority of them had had for their home a country house devoid of luxury and with little comfort, where with plenty of rural sports amidst gamekeepers and farmers they passed a healthy childhood, their young imagination kindled by listening to their father's and their uncles' tales about the wars. To serve the State with life and limb seemed to them an obligation of their rank and an hereditary debt, and they began the service young. M. des Echerolles, captain of the regiment of Poitou, took with him to the army his son aged nine (with a dozen young cousins), who while still a stripling received seven wounds and the Cross of St. Louis. The Prince de Ligne had experience of war from the age of eight, and Marshal Saxe fought at Malplaquet when thirteen. The mass of French officers followed the military career for its 6 Jacobinism own sake, knowing well that the higher grades were destined for successful courtiers and men of very high family. At the end of fifteen or twenty years' service they returned home with the rank of captain and perhaps a small pension or a cross, content to have performed their duty honourably. Under the Revolution, their moderation and abnegation, and their reluctance to strike even when struck, still maintained a shadow of public order. As patriotic as military, they constituted by birth and education a natural source of strength and a weapon ready to hand for use against both external foes and domestic traitors to civilisation and social order. The clergy formed an estimable body of men, consisting of 65,000 ecclesiastics. According to the testimony of M. de Tocqueville : l ' All things considered, and in spite of the vices of some of its members, I doubt whether there was ever a body of clergy more remarkable for their patriotism, public spirit, and honest faith, than the French clergy at the moment when the Revolution burst upon them. ... I commenced my studies of the ancien regime full of prejudice against the clergy, but I conclude my studies filled with respect for that body.' In those days not only the minor dignities but the parochial cures were filled by men of much better family than are the existing French clergy. Large families were then common (as is still the case in the only part of Old France which survives namely Canada), and parents were right willing that one of their sons should enter the Church. Then the parish priest was no object of popular suspicion or aversion ; he was respectfully greeted by artisans and peasants, and was thoroughly at home with his parishioners of the middle class. He was no salaried state-functionary, nor was he (as the Concordat has since made him) remov- able at will, but a freeholder directly interested in all that 1 L 'ancien Regime et la Revolution, p. 169. Jacobinism 7 concerned the temporal prosperity of his friends and neighbours the prospects of the harvest, the making of roads and canals, and all the other concerns of a landed proprietor. The clerical profession had then in France many attractions, indeed, which it now lacks. Perhaps amongst all the changes which democratic tyranny has inflicted on France, not one has been so fruitful hi evil consequences as that which transformed a great body of estimable men, public- spirited and independent, into a mass of salaried officials with no direct interest in anything but matters ecclesiastical, the bond-slaves of salaried bishops who are more than ever directly dependent on the Pope. Truly it is the Revolution which has created ' clericalism,' and the disastrous result which has befallen our neighbours should at least save us from ever following in their footsteps ! But besides the nobility and clergy, the Revolution found France in possession of some 100,000 families of the higher middle class lawyers, doctors, architects, engineers, artists, merchants, manufacturers, and civil functionaries. These last, however, were very unlike the members of existing bureaucracies, for the place each held was his own property, which he had bought and was free to sell. This made them independent and contented, not seeking incessantly to change from place to place, but, on the contrary, identifying them- selves with the welfare of the city in which they had taken root. Established for life, and living with old-fashioned simplicity and economy, they thought more of the esteem of their fellows and less of mere gam than is the case now. In fact, nothing could well be more unlike the modern French system, whose administrators are but nomads, often living in an hotel or furnished lodging, ready to start else- where for the slightest increase of pay, and without a single local interest or connection. Side by side with these 'Notables,' there were about 8 Jacobinism 150,000 families of the lower middle class farmers, peasant- proprietors, shopkeepers, master-workmen, village officials, and small householders who formed another set of respect- able citizens. The whole State had indeed its manifest imperfections, but was for the most part healthy and sound save at its centre. The rottenness and corruption of the court, and the exaggerated power of the head of the cen- tralised administration, were incalculable evils ; but the evils were on the road towards extinction ; the provincial assemblies were hi action, and it would seem as if it had been quite possible for all the benefits of the Revolution to have been obtained without any of its attendant evils. But whether such beneficent action was or was not within the bounds of possibility, we learn that the Revolution intensified the greatest evils it was evoked to cure. That in bursting upon this brilliant, highly-cultured, and in many respects estimable social order it shattered an ancient nobility, destroyed a venerable Church, and ruined the most notable families of the nation, is what everybody has long known; but it has been reserved for M. Tame to depict its effects upon the poorest and lowest members of the population. It has com- monly been supposed that these were great gainers by the cataclysm. Whether they were so or not, M. Taine shall tell us. Before, however, putting before our readers some of the more noteworthy effects of Jacobin measures, it may be well first to cast a glance at one or two of the leading Jacobins themselves. Three men stand out from the ranks of that party in well-merited pre-eminence as regards both influence and infamy, Marat, Danton, and Robespierre. They present three very different types of character, but all agree in testi- fying to the wonderful conjuncture of circumstances which could alone have raised men of the kind to the rank of supreme rulers over such a society as that which has been briefly described. Jacobinism 9 Marat was not a Frenchman, but the offspring of a Genevan mother and of a Spanish father, Dr. Jean Mara, who had been domiciled in Sardinia till his abjuration of Catholicism caused him to migrate to Switzerland. The son showed early a certain taste for physical science, but soon manifested an amount of vanity which was the first indica- tion of a mind trembling on the verge of positive insanity. He says of himself : ' I was from my childhood devoured by a passion for glory, a passion which changed with years the objects to which it was directed, but which never quitted me for an instant.' He became the author of various scientific treatises, but his want of success in gaming public apprecia- tion soon soured him, and envy and hatred resulted from the mortification of the egregious vanity by which his own words prove him to have been possessed. ' My discoveries,' he tells us, 'tend to transform the whole science of optics. Before Tine, the true primary colours were unknown. . . . And no one knew the true place of electricity in nature. I have established it beyond doubt. ... As to the igneous fluid, that creature unknown till I came, I have cleared its theory from erroneous hypotheses in a work which will consign to oblivion all that the learned societies have previously published on the subject.' He thought he was the victim of a conspiracy of ' all the learned men of Europe against him.' When his treatise upon Man was forwarded from Amsterdam to Paris, ' the philosophers,' he tells us, ' caused it to be seized at the Custom House.' There was a conspiracy of doctors moved by grief and envy at his professional gains, as also of Academicians. ' I could prove, were it necessary, that they held meetings in order to calumniate me. The disgraceful persecution of me by the Academy lasted ten years. . . . Could it be believed that the charlatans of that body would have succeeded in depreciating my discoveries in the eyes of Europe and in getting all its learned societies to refuse me a i o Jacobinism place in their publications ? ' l He was thus evidently verging on insanity. His confidence in his political wisdom was not less than his belief in his own scientific acumen. ' If I were only a tribune of the people, aided by a few thousand deter- mined men, I answer for it that in six weeks the nation should be free and happy, . . . and that it should so continue for the rest of my life.' His egotism is similar as regards philosophy. He says : ' I believe myself to have exhausted all the com- binations of which the human mind is capable.' His politico- ethical system he draws out as follows : 'I deduce the whole of a man's rights from his physical needs. ... If a citizen is in want, he has the right to snatch from another the super- fluity with which he is gorged. What do I say ? He has the right to snatch away even what is necessary to that other, and rather than die of hunger, he has the right to cut his throat and devour his quivering flesh.' 2 His diseased mind passed on rapidly from exaggeration to exaggeration, till arrested by the knife of Charlotte Corday. After the taking of the Bastille he demanded five hundred heads. In Sep- tember 1792, he declared at the Communal Council that 40,000 ought to fall, and six weeks later he raised his demand to 270,000 heads. 3 His filthy and degraded personal habits need not here be described, but they should not be forgotten in our estimate of this sordid, ferocious madman, who succeeded in raising himself to supreme influence in that France which but three years before seemed to take the lead in Europe, not only in intellect, but yet more in gentle delicacy and refinement. Different indeed from Marat was Danton, the second chiet of the Revolution. A man with a healthy vigorous animal nature, coarse and with violent instincts, but having a clear 1 Journal de la Rdpublique franfaise, No. 98. 2 Taine, vol. iii. p. 162. 3 Moniteur of the 26th of October 1792. Jacobinism r i judgment withal, and never himself the dupe of the pre- judices he played upon, or of the abstract formulae he did not hesitate to conjure by. Energetic enough, though only at intervals, and not with the incessant feverish activity which characterised Marat, Danton was most ill-suited for his call- ing. A poor lawyer, poorly married, he loathed his sedentary toil. A Colossus with a Tartar's head, pock-marked, small- eyed, and endowed with a voice of thunder ; fond of foul oaths and brutal jests, he was a sort of eighteenth-century Eabelais, who plunged heartily into the muddy current, which he was clear-sighted and vigorous enough to see through and direct. His rare political sagacity enabled him to gauge accurately men's characters and the true bearing of events. From the outset of the Revolution he divined its true nature, and comprehended its normal mode of procedure, usually the systematic employment of popular brutality. Already in 1788 he figured in emeutes, and before the beginning of the Eevolution was per- ceptible to many, he had already understood its true end the supremacy of the violent minority, and especially of that of the capital. On the 10th of August 1790, he declared before the National Assembly that the citizens of Paris were the natural representatives of the eighty-three departments of France. Here we have proclaimed by him what we shall find to be the essential idea of Jacobinism, and it was he who carried through its most decisive acts those of the 10th of August, the 2nd of September, the 31st of May, and the 2nd of June. For a time he ruled, in his turn, a system founded on conquest and maintained by terrpr. Nevertheless he was in his heart no fanatic, and he even entertained the idea of saving the King. One who had been on friendly terms with Danton, Count Theodore de Lameth, ventured, though a denounced dmigrd, to return from Switzerland to Paris to make one last effort in the royal cause. ' I went straight to 1 2 Jacobinism Danton,' he tells us, 'whom I found in his bath. "You here," he cried, " don't you know that with one word I could have you guillotined ? " " Danton," said I, " you are a great criminal, but you are not the man for an infamy like that of betraying me." "You come to save the King?" "Yes." Thereupon we conversed on that subject in a confidential and friendly manner. " I consent," said Danton, " to try and save him, but I must have a million of francs in a week to bribe the voters, and I warn you that if I find that I cannot for a certainty save him, I shall vote for his death. I am quite willing to save his head, but not to lose my own." ' He did vote for death, and then connived at Lameth's return to Switzerland. Danton, in fact, had no real taste for blood and cruelty; coarse, corrupted, and unscrupulous as he was, he rescued several illustrious lives from the September mas- sacres, and could not refrain from tears at his inability to save the Girondists. He was also incapable of sustained and systematic labour, and these two characteristics were his ruin. He could not keep up the constant vigilant activity needed to defend him from his rivals, while his more generous instincts furnished the latter (with whom he had but a simulated sympathy) with ample grounds for denunciation. In reality he hated the fanatical zeal of the Jacobin true believers. 'Give free scope,' he said, 'to Robespierre and Saint-Just, and soon France will be nothing more than a Thebaid with a score of political Trappists.' Towards the end he saw yet more clearly the true bearings of his own acts. ' I ask pardon of God and men,' he cried, ' for having set up the Revolutionary tribunal. In revolutions, power passes into the hands of those who are the greatest villains. It is better then to be a poor fisherman than a ruler of men.' When such sentiments as these had developed themselves within him, he had evidently become ripe for the fatal knife. Jacobinism- 1 3 Robespierre, the third person of the Jacobin Triad, was its true head, and differed greatly from each of its two other members. Self-contained and free from either mental or bodily disease, decorous in every word and gesture, and ever dressed with scrupulous care, he was untiring in his constant attention to the routine of business. He was the very incar- nation of the spirit of the Revolution, and a profound believer in its doctrines, being alike blind to all facts or arguments opposed to them. Unlike Danton, who saw living breathing men, Robespierre saw only abstractions duly ticketed and grouped according to revolutionary formulae. It was this excessive narrowness of mind which kept him faithful to his one idea, and carried this soulless, vain, third-rate literary pedant to the very crest of the inflowing revolutionary wave, and sustained him there till its commencing ebb. Even at that fatal moment for him, he could not rise above the empty stilted verbiage which was essentially congenial to his nature. When the time approached to do or die, he could but declaim from the tribune he was so soon to quit for the scaffold such stuff as : ' O ever-blessed day when all France united to render to the author of Nature the only homage worthy of him ! What a touching assemblage of those objects capable of arresting the gaze of men and filling their hearts ! O venerable and honoured age ! O generous youth of our country ! O the guileless, pure joy of young citizens ! O sweet tears of tender mothers ! divine charms of innocence and beauty ! O the majesty of a great people, happy through nothing but the knowledge of its power, its glory and its virtue. . . . No, Chaumette, no, death is not an eternal sleep. ... If it has now become necessary that I should disguise such truths as these, then let there be borne to me the fatal draught of hemlock.' Here at the end of his terrible career is manifested the same pedantic intellectual mediocrity which at its beginning had obtained for him, before 1789, a second-class prize from 1 4 Jacobinism the Academy of Arras, and the warm approbation of that of Amiens. Had it not been for the advent of the Revolution, as M. Taine says, 1 ' his little intellectual lamp, like a hundred such kindled at the fire of the new philosophy, would have burned tranquilly and caused no conflagration, shedding over a narrow provincial area a tiny light in proportion to the little oil which one of its small capacity could hold.' Quite eclipsed by the many able men of the National Assembly, it was only towards the end of the Constituent Assembly that he emerged from their shadow, and step by step became con- spicuous through the resignation or removal of his betters. Then it was that his narrow, consistent fanaticism, his absolute devotion to his impracticable ideal, and boundless confidence in his own infallibility, gradually transformed him first into the most conspicuous figure of his sect, and ulti- mately into its deity. The salon of 1791 contained two portraits of him, one bearing the inscription, V Incorruptible. He was hailed from Marseilles as 'the sole rival of the Roman Fabricius, the immortal defender of the rights of the people.' The Parisian mob sought to draw him, crowned with oak- leaves, to the house of the cabinetmaker where he lodged in the Rue Saint-Honore. There an audience of the lower middle class eagerly drank in tirades of political declamation suitable to their capacity. He was the infallible pontiff who night and morning gave forth his oracles. The believers waited in files in the courtyard for an audience. Admitted to his salon, they waited again till his hand beckoned them into the sanctuary of his cabinet. The women especially adored him. Seven hundred of them, to two hundred men, crowded the tribunes of the Convention to hear his apology, and when he spoke at the Jacobin Club, their sobs and cries resounded on all sides. A spectator who appeared cold and unmoved soon had evil eyes fixed on him, and it was well for him to slip 1 Vol. iii. p. 194. Jacobinism 1 5 away like a heretic, who had ventured near some sacred shrine, where devotees were performing a sacred function. In public writings he was spoken of as ' the genius whom nothing can deceive or seduce, who with the energy of a Spartan and the eloquence of an Athenian shelters the republic beneath the aegis of his genius, while he enlightens the universe by his writings and fills the world with his renown. He was the regenerator of the human race, whose name will be venerated through all future ages as the Messiah whom the Eternal has promised to redeem the world.' But the very virtues of Eobespierre made his prepon- derance more fatal than even that of Marat, for they added the immense multitude, whose morals were opposed to the Dictator's standard, to the Royalists, Aristocrats, Federalists, Feuillants, and Girondins, previously proscribed. According to him, immorality was a political crime, as tending to egoism, and to the drying up of those sentiments of admiration for moral beauty by which alone public opinion can judge either the enemies or the defenders of humanity. Thus every one who corrupted the people by his vice or luxury, or who agitated, deceived, blamed, or distrusted the people; every one, in fact, who did not march along that narrow way which Robespierre had marked out as the only road to salvation, was a villain and a traitor. Thus the harvest became ripe indeed for the guillotine; nor did any natural sympathies plead for mercy in his heart as they did in that of Danton, and induce him to listen to the prayers of fathers, mothers, wives, or children for their nearest and dearest. It was as Mirabeau had said in 1789, 'All that man says he really believes,' and thus the course of events had called forth a man such as no dramatist has ventured to depict. A hypocrite convinced of his own honesty ; a Cain who believed himself Abel, and who was taken by others to be so. The Feast of the Supreme Being of June 8th, 1794, was 1 6 Jacobinism the culmination of his career, and the greatest exhibition ever made of preposterous self-deception. The orgies of the Goddess of Reason in Notre Dame, revolting as they were to every, decent mind, were nevertheless in a sense honest. They really expressed the gross and violent passions of the most depraved portion of humanity. But the Feast of the Supreme Being was an elaborate sham, such as could have taken place nowhere but in France. Robespierre, the pontift of the ceremony, in his well-known costume performed his often described part at the head of the Convention, exclaim- ing, 'Behold humanity indeed, and a united universe. nature, how sweet and sublime is thy power; how tyrants must tremble at the idea of such a festival!' Himself sincere, around and behind him the other aspect of the Revolution, full of silent antipathy and revolt, lay hidden, or began to show itself in murmurs and sarcasms, soon to display itself fully with fatal effect. The Supreme Being had, in truth, judged him, and with his great festival began his rapid down- fall. With him fell the Jacobin par excellence, the orthodox true believer without spot or suspicion of heresy or schism, who, without delay, precipitation, or indulgence, advanced along the straight and narrow road bordered by abysses, which could alone lead to safety, since, as there is but one reason, there can be but one path. Such being the Revolution as displayed in the notorious triad of its chiefs, let us now glance at the doctrine propa- gated the essential principles of Jacobinism. They were those of Rousseau, which had a singular fascination when first promulgated, and which, owing to an ambiguity which allows them to be accepted in two widely different senses, not only retain that fascination for many persons, but are even regaining influence amongst us. On this latter account it may be well briefly to point out, that no men are more eager than are Conservative politicians Jacobinism 1 7 to maintain that there are sacred ' rights of man/ and to pro- mote the only possible ' equality.' For ' rights ' are but the correlatives of 'duties/ freedom to perform which only atheistic systems can deny. Every social system also. must exist by some sort of tacit compact of its members, a compact tending to become more explicit as their education and political activity increase. Finally, the wish that good things should be as widely diffused, and evil influences as much restricted as possible, is that aspiration for 'equality' in which all good men may share. It is almost needless to say that the Jacobin view of these principles was widely different, and implied the sacrifice of the freedom and welfare of the real men and women of a nation to an abstract ideal. The reasonable maxim, that the minority should yield to the majority in many things, became transformed in practice into the absurdity of trying to make a real, concrete whole yield to an ideal, abstract whole in all things. But the attractiveness of Rousseau's principles for the French in 1789 was partly owing to their not being really new, but only a new embodiment of ideas current under the old Monarchy. Moreover, their effects would have been comparatively harmless had not those whose duty it was to maintain order been unfitted for their task, as they had never been before, by that softness of manners and sensibility, of which we have before spoken, and by the then generally accepted belief in the virtue of man tresh from the 'hand of nature and unsophisticated by culture and civilisation.' Moreover, this very refinement of the times had made men doubly sensible to whatever was galling in privileges which had come to be both more than ever divorced from duties, and more diffused amongst persons with no traditional claim to reverence ; seeing that a successful tradesman, by buying some paltry sinecure, could get himself enrolled amongst the privileged orders. The decay of religion also, with the VOL. I. B 1 8 Jacobinism influence of philosophy and the effects of the late King's vices, all, as every one knows, concurred to help on the movement towards the triumph of Jacobinism. Now Jacobinism essentially consists hi the advocacy of certain d priori principles of one order, regardless of the, possibly conflicting, claims of principles belonging to other orders. It resembles the advocacy of political economy regardless of physiology, or of physiology regardless of ethics. Jacobinism demands of every citizen the entire alienation to ' the State ' of all his rights and possessions, each man yield- ing himself up entirely, and without any reserve whatever. Thenceforward nothing that he had or was is to be any longer his own, and whatever he may have he is to hold by favour of a concession always revocable. His person and powers, no less than his goods, are to be public property. He is to become a functionary intrusted, during the State's pleasure, with the administration of the property which was once his own. How thoroughly and universally these principles were accepted is shown by the completeness with which they were acted on. They were carried out with that boasted, but sometimes absurd, logical completeness, which is so often to be found on the other side of the Channel. After the confiscation of the Church property worth about four milliards of francs came that of the emigres, 1 worth about three milliards more. Then came that of the guillotined and transported, probably to be estimated by hundreds of millions of francs. Then came a like sum from the sequestration of the goods of the ' suspected,' and so on. The property taken from the hospitals and other charitable institutions amounted to eight hundred millions of francs ; and besides this there was that of industrial institutions, schools and colleges, libraries and scientific societies. Finally, 1 Mallet-du-Pan (MJmoires, vol. ii. p. 17) tells us of 12,000 6migr6s whose goods were confiscated in Marseilles alone. Jacobinism 1 9 there was the property which had been granted by the Kings of the three hundred preceding years, and which was then reclaimed and taken. Thus three-fifths of the soil of France passed into the hands of the revolutionists ; by far the richest three-fifths, including, as it did, so many palaces, abbeys, and chateaux, with rich furniture, plate, pictures, and the art coUections of centuries, to say nothing of money and securities for money. Besides all this, the Government, by its rights of ' pre- emption ' and ' requisition,' became for a tune practically the proprietor of all that commerce, manufacture, and agricul- ture could produce or import. At last, for greater con- venience, produce was taken at its place of production corn and fodder at the farm, cattle at the breeder's, wine at the vineyard, hides at the butcher's, leather at the tanner's ; soap, sugar, cloth, etc., at the manufacturer's. Carriages and horses were seized in the streets or in the stable ; cooking- utensils were taken for copper ; beds, clothes, and even shirts from their owners. In one day ten thousand persons were deprived of their shoes in a single city. 1 ' In public need,' says the representative Isore, 'everything belongs to the people, nothing to the individual.' And persons were as little respected as property. Almost a million of men all between eighteen and twenty-five years of age were enrolled in the army at once. Any one failing to answer the call was liable at first to a punishment of ten years in irons, confisca- tion of goods, or the punishment of his relations in his place- Afterwards he incurred the penalty of being ranked as an 6migr6, condemned to death, and his father and mother treated as ' suspected,' imprisoned, and their property seques- trated. But civil needs are not less imperative than military wants, and a forced labour was exacted of artisans, and con- tributions from every kind of tradesman. Sentiments even 1 Taine, p. 74. 2O Jacobinism were requisitioned or at least their simulation. Mothers were required to bring their daughters to the popular fetes, and not to grudge their exhibition in patriotic processions, mounted on chariots, in antique costumes. Even marriage was a subject of requisition, and rich 'citoyennes' were forced to marry poor patriots. 1 The young mind was also ordered to be brought up in orthodoxy, and children were forcibly submitted to an education befitting young citizens. The Government was pedagogic, philanthropic, theological, and ethical, no less than military and political. Even men's feelings were to be controlled, and not only opponents, but those reckoned as indifferent, moderate, or egotistical, were taxed, imprisoned, or guillotined. And all this was not by any means to be considered as arbitrary government. The State was omnipotent for the very purpose of regenerating mankind, and the same theory which conferred its rights also prescribed its end. The prodigious task which it was proposed to accomplish was expressly stated by Billaud- Varrennes: 2 'It is necessary to, as it were, recreate the people whom we desire to make free, since we must destroy old prejudices, change venerable customs, elevate depraved affections, restrain superfluous wants, and extirpate inveterate vices.' Saint-Just exclaimed: 'When once I become con- vinced that it is impossible to reform the morals of the French people, the dagger shall end my days. . . . Either I will make patriots of them, or they or I shall die;' while Baudot and Carrier declared : ' Kather will we make France one vast cemetery than fail to regenerate it according to our convictions.' Accordingly sanguinary repressive measures were decreed against farmers, manufacturers, merchants, and shopkeepers, who raised the price of their goods as the market price tended to rise through the increasing scarcity of produce. 1 Page 77. 2 Page 79. Jacobinism 2 1 Such ' legal brigandage ' was not to be tolerated, and ' fore- stalling ' was made a capital offence. It was death to the merchant who did not offer his stores for sale daily ; death to him who kept more bread than his subsistence needed; death to the agriculturist who did not bring in his grain to the weekly market ; and death to the shopkeeper who closed his shop. The prices of all articles needed for food, warmth, or clothing were fixed by authority, and not only those who took more but also those who offered more must go to prison. If, owing to this fixed maximum price the dealer abandoned a calling which only brought him loss, he became a 'suspected' citizen. Thus farmers, merchants, shopkeepers, and even artisans, became but clerks of a State which was rapidly becoming the only proprietor, capitalist, manufacturer, merchant, or shopkeeper, assigning to each citizen his task according to his estimated capacity. The first steps in this direction were indeed taken by the Constituent Assembly itself, which dissolved all those tradi- tional, historical groups in which the French people had naturally arranged themselves provinces, nobility, clergy, parliaments, trade-corporations. The suppression of parishes, literary and scientific societies, agricultural, commercial, and charitable associations, were but so many further steps along the same road. All local attachments and organisations were attacked, and centralisation more and more enforced with the intention that the whole people should be united but by one tie. The official religion, with its decades for weeks and its inane festivals, was enforced, and children were not only to be taught its catechism but brought up in all respects according to a Spartan ideal. Thus, according to Lepelletier Saint-Fargeau, boys from five to twelve, and girls from five to eleven, were to be educated together in State schools, with similar clothes, food, and teaching. Saint-Just desired that all lads from five to sixteen should be dressed 22 Jacobinism alike, in cotton, at all seasons of the year, sleeping for eight hours and nourished with bread, roots, fruits, vegetables, water, and milk, and should only eat meat when their military and agricultural education began. A select few were to be enrolled in a special band carefully guarded, fed on black bread and lard, with oil and vinegar, and formed in frugality, fraternity, morality, the love of country, and the hatred of kings. Bakers were forbidden to make more than one kind of bread, ' the bread of equality,' and each citizen was to receive his ration hi turn. On festival days every one was to take his provisions down into the street, and there dine with his neighbours, and on each decadi, all were to assemble with festivity in the temples of the Supreme Being. Women had to mount the tricolor and men to wear long hair, moustaches, a red cap and wooden shoes. A rude familiarity replaced the old monarchical politeness, and all were to address each other as comrades. 1 In a word, to ensure the welfare and happiness of the French people they were subjected to a despotism more complete and universal than any which the world had previ- ously experienced. As M. Taine well says, 2 if there have been some other despotisms which have been nearly as oppressive there was never one so utterly stupid, there was never one which not only tried to raise so crushing a weight with so short a lever but also went on augmenting the weight while continually shortening the lever wherewith it tried to raise it. When Philip ii. burnt heretics and Jews, and Louis xiv. converted Huguenots by his Dragonnades, those tyrants at least oppressed but a small minority of their subjects, and were 1 ' Sois grossiere, pour devenir re"publicaine ; redeviens sauvage pour montrer la superiority de ton genie ; quitte les usages d'un peuple civilise, pour prendre ceux des galeriens ; defigure ta langue, pour 1'elever ; parle comme la populace sous peine de mort . . . deviens sotte, et prouve ton civisme par 1'absence de toute education.' Mallet-du-Pan, Mdmoires, vol. ii. p. 493. 2 Page 149. Jacobinism 23 supported by the vast majority. Frederick n. by his endless wars caused the death of about a sixth of his male subjects ; but at least these were serfs, the citizens escaped the con- scription, while justice was administered, and great intellectual freedom prevailed, even fly-sheets against himself having a free sale in Berlin. Peter the Great, whip in hand, made his Muscovite bears dance to European tunes, but he remained the chief of their religion, and neither their traditional habits nor their communal rights were interfered with. Even the Caliph a Mahomet or an Omar whether brutal Turk or fanatical Arab, not only allowed his conquered Christians, in consideration of a certain sum of money, freedom to practise their religion, but State countenance and support for it, sustaining the jurisdiction of their patriarchs and other head men, with freedom of association for their convents and schools. Thus, whatever tyranny had previously existed, it had only been pushed to a certain point or exercised over a small minority, so that, however unjustifiable and pernicious, it was not manifestly absurd. The Jacobin tyranny, however, continually added fresh multitudes to those already persecuted, while at the same time it alienated greater and greater numbers of those who had supported the system in its earlier stages. At first it had contented itself with attacking the venerable Church and the effete, monarchical State, but ultimately it attacked all religion, all property and family life, at their very foundations. During the first few years of its power it was content to destroy, and its work was then comparatively easy; but when the time came to build, then the magnitude of the task and the insignificance of the means became apparent. When it began the attempt to impose a new religion, new sentiments and manners, Spartan rigour, and the universal police regulation of the whole of life, every step that it advanced was a harder task, and raised up a greater and 24 Jacobinism greater host of silent enemies. In its early days it had against it only a large section of the clergy and of the nobility of sword and gown, but by degrees all men imbued with a love of European civilisation, class after class, and ultimately even the greater part of the revolutionists themselves, became its secret opponents, the latter finding at last that they also had to bear what they had merely thought of inflicting, and much disliked the strait- waistcoat which they only approved of as applied to their neighbours. Finally, Couthon, Saint-Just, Billaud, Collot, and Kobe- spierre had about them (with a few exceptions like Carnot) only narrow-minded sectaries unable to see the stupidity of their effort, and too fanatical to shrink from its inevitable horrors a set of men whose incompetence equalled their ambition and whose consciences were perverted by sophistry and vanity, or destroyed by a prolonged impunity of crime. They were thus necessarily reduced to but one mode of government Terror and they were therefore forced more and more to parade its terrible instrument, for the full force of its effect on the imagination could only be maintained by an exaggerated use of it, owing to the tendency of habit to accustom the mind to any stimulus. As a negro chief, if he desires that all should prostrate themselves before him, must be attended by his headsman and kill arbitrarily, suddenly, on suspicion, and at will, the innocent with the guilty ; so it was with the Jacobin in power. He was lost, if he relaxed the tension of his rule. Thus it is that the natural leaders of such a movement are marked out from the first. They must be theorists who can seize its principles and who are logical enough to carry them out, while remaining stupid enough not to understand that their task exceeds all human power. They must feel that brutal force is their only weapon, and be inhuman enough to apply it without scruple or reserve, and be prodigal of life to strike the indispensable terror. Jacobinism 25 But severe as were the trials of those whom the Revolution directly attacked, it has generally been believed that not only were great benefits l conferred by it on the mass of the nation, but that also the lower and lowest classes were exempt from the sufferings which befell their social superiors. M. Taine, however, brings before us abundant evidence that this is a mistaken view. If, as is generally supposed, the 'people' under the ancien regime were chastised with whips, he shows us that the revolutionary regime chastised them with scorpions. The absurd laws against forestaUing, and the fixing of a maximum for selling prices, brought the nation almost face to face with positive famine. In 1793, Collot d'Herbois wrote 2 from Lyons : ' We have not enough food left for two days ; our situation is desperate ; we are on the verge of famine.' At Cahors, in spite of requisitions, Taillefer was forced to declare that ' the people have for a week past had to eat bread but a fifth part of which was made of wheat.' An agent writing from Tarbes said: 'On the day after the festival held to commemorate the death of the tyrant, there was absolutely no bread.' At Rouen and Bordeaux the inhabitants had aUowed to them daily but a quarter of a pound of bread each. Crowds were lying down at night outside the bakers' shops in order to buy in the morning wretched bread for which they had to pay very dear, and this, indeed, they could not always obtain. Many peasants did not taste bread for a fortnight together, and gave up work. 3 One writer declares: 'I myself have 1 The class which benefited most from the Revolution were those agri- culturists and small peasant proprietors who had succeeded in hiding away their coin during the full force of the Revolution, and who, when it began to abate and assignats became greatly depreciated, brought out their stores and bought land at incredibly low prices. See Lord Malmesbury's Diary, vol. iii. p. 290, 2nd October 1796. 2 Taine, p. 493. 3 Archives des Affaires dtrangeres, vols. 331 and 332 ; ' Letters of Desgranges from the 3rd to the 8th Brumaire and from the 3rd to the 10th Frimaire. ' 26 Jacobinism been eight days without bread. I should not mind that if I could only get potatoes, but there are none.' Five months later the distress still continued, and it only ended when the Reign of Terror ended. Tallien himself admitted 1 that in the district of Cadillac the most absolute scarcity reigned (the country people quarrelling over grass for food), and that he himself had been forced to eat couch-grass. The same misery extended far and wide. In Le Cher we read : ' The butchers no longer slaughter, and the shops are empty ; ' and that at ' L'Allier the markets are deserted, the public-houses shut up, and every kind of food, including vegetables, has disappeared, the starving people for the most part being as submissive as dejected.' Only Paris was turbulent, and so the rest of France was sacrificed to it. Not only did the Govern- ment spend in feeding it two millions of francs each week, but whole regions were devastated for its exclusive benefit. Armed revolutionary bands were appointed to collect the requisitioned food, and with the prospect of the prison and the guillotine before them, and by the help of the maximum, six of the departments were forced to supply it with corn, and twenty-six with pork. During the fourteen months of the revolutionary govern- ment tumultuous crowds besieged the doors of every butcher, grocer, poulterer, and greengrocer, as well as the stores of fuel. The crowd extended from a grocer's door of the Petit Carreau halfway down the Rue Montorgueil. These files or ' queues,' began to form at midnight, the wretched men and women lying down when it was fine, but often obliged to stand shivering for hours with their clothes soaked with wet or their feet in snow, and this in dark streets which were filthy beyond expression, as the existing poverty no longer afforded means to pay for the sweeping of them or the lighting of more than half the lamps. Nor did hideous moral evils fail to 1 Moniteur, xix. 671. Jacobinism 27 accompany so much physical misery. The most horrible and debasing depravity showed itself without shame or disguise before the eyes of half-starved wives and daughters, who were forced to stand their ground or go empty away. And empty they often had to go after standing their ground. When the hour came for the meat to be carried in by a backway all the best portions were reserved for various categories of citizens, including the pachas of the quarter. ' The -wretched people who wait know that what is left will be insufficient, and with this dread before them there arise cries and struggles till, all at once, the queue is broken, then blows are freely given, and oaths resound on all sides ; children are overthrown, food is snatched from the hands of the weak, and force alone decides the contest, which is indeed a struggle for existence. Else- where, impatient, famished women, more emotional and violent than the men, throw themselves on the carts as they are driven to the market, and the ground becomes strewed with eggs, butter, or vegetables, amidst the struggling women, who half suffocate each other in their eagerness for food.' The report of one of the superintendents is thus expressed : ' This morning the people of the Faubourg Saint- Antoine sallied out on the Vincennes road and pillaged the convoys coming to Paris. Some paid for what they took, others carried off produce without paying anything. The peasants swear they will not bring in another thing, and the scarcity is made greater by the efforts of each one to save himself from it. But it is almost in vain that the authorities try to force food into Paris in order to sell it there at a price below its real value. Naturally all the mayors and other village authorities are loath to starve their own surroundings, and the agents of the Government are bribed or cheated, so that often but half quantities of damaged corn are sent in. Moreover, when the food has come inside, naturally, bread which, thanks to the State, costs but three sous in Paris, finds its way surrepti- 28 Jacobinism tiously to the suburbs, where it sells for six sous ; and so with other goods. Naturally also those who have power use it to increase their own store first. Thus by this doubly vicious system not only is Paris badly fed, but those of its inhabitants for whose benefit all this violence is employed get but a small portion, and that by far the worst.' In 1793, women remained for six hours in file in the Place Maubert without obtaining a quarter of a pound of bread. Many people complained of not having tasted meat for a fortnight. Of 2000 women who attended the market to get a share of haricot beans, only 700 could obtain any. Flour and peas trebled in price, and people had to go to bed at sundown from scarcity of candles. Sick women and others with children in arms had to remain in the snow at night for hours in the Hue Vivienne and on the Pont Royal, begging alms of passers-by with cries and tears, the image of despair. But the Jacobins said ah 1 this was only due to the im- perfect execution of the decrees against forestalling and establishing the maximum, and also to the egoism of the pro- ducers and the cupidity of the distributors, who on account of this imperfect execution were not enough restrained by fear. Thereupon all the engines of terror, fines, the prison, the scaffold, must be brought to bear with increased energy against all kinds of free trade, and especially against that of labourers and farmers. Even in April 1794, 1 these latter were to be seen hi troops on their road to prison. It was impossible to make them understand that their harvests were the property of the nation, and that they were but trustees. It became necessary to remove them out of the way of temptation, and to make the State not only the one owner but also the one distributor of gram. The Committee of Public Society therefore placed in requisition all gram 1 Un Sejour en France, 22nd April 1794. Jacobinism 29 throughout the Republic. 1 In the provinces, Paganel in Tarn and Dartigoyte in Gers and the Haute-Garonne, ordered each Commune to establish a public granary, where each citizen was to put all his grain of every kind, and no one was to retain in his house more than 50 Ibs. of corn or flour per head for a month's provision. The municipalities were to deliver out rations of food and to take care that all vegetables were economically distributed as they became fit for use, always at the price of the maximum, and if any one should try to sell his at a higher price he was to be summoned before a special criminal tribunal. Maignet, in the departments of Vaucluse and the Bouches-du-Rhone, ordered every munici- pality to make two lists, one of labourers and the other of proprietors, so that the latter might have assigned to them, on demand, such hands as they might require. Two years in irons and the pillory were ordered for every labourer who failed to get himself put on the list, or who asked a higher price for his labour than that fixed for him by the authorities. Two years hi irons and a fine of 300 livres were also ordered for every proprietor who should employ a labourer whose name was not on the list, or who should pay a wage above the prescribed maximum. Thus the people had indeed attained to an era of liberty and freedom ! According to M. Taine, we have a farmer lamenting his woes as follows : ' In Messidor they took all my grain of last year at a price of 14 francs in assignats, and in Thermidor they will take this year's at 11 francs. At that price I shall sow no more, since my horses are taken away for the army. To raise more corn and rye than I want for my own use is a mere loss; better to leave my land fallow. They have requisitioned my pigs of three mouths old, so I have killed and salted them beforehand, but they will very likely requisition that provision. The new eat-everythings are worse than the former 1 Archives Nationales, A. F.'ii. 68 (Arret du Comite de Salut public 28 prairial, Le prix maximum de 1'avoine est de 14 francs le quintal ; apres le 30 messidor, il ne sera plus que 1 1 francs). 30 Jacobinism ones. Another six months and we shall all starve ! We had better cross our arms at once and go to prison ; there at least we shall be fed.' Page 511. And they did go to prison by thousands, and Lindet, 1 at the head of the committee of supply, found with dismay that land was no longer under cultivation, cattle were no longer bred, and it appeared certain that France the following year would have nothing to eat. ' Many cultivators,' wrote Dartigoyte, 2 ' show an inconceivable indifference with respect to the wonderful harvest which is to be expected. One must see to believe how the corn is neglected and smothered with weeds.' And these were French peasants, so proverbially devoted to their farms. Four simultaneous happy accidents alone saved France from famine at the eleventh hour. These were : (1) the weather was extraordinarily mild, so that vegetables were ready in April and May, and the harvest was wonderful; (2) 116 ships laden with grain from America arrived safely at Brest on the 8th of June 1794, having eluded the English fleet, which might easily have dispersed or destroyed the French ships; (3) the Republican armies had invaded other states and were now supported at the expense of the countries they had invaded; and (4) by a piece of supreme good fortune, Robespierre, Saint-Just, Couthon, the Paris Commune, and the Jacobins, who were really faithful to their principles, were guillotined on the 28th of July. From that time the law of the maximum ceased to be enforced, and the Convention abolished it in December. Then the producers at once began to sell freely at two prices according to whether they were paid in cash or in assignats. This change, which was in many respects a great amelioration, was nevertheless a new source of misery to the unhappy poor. In fact, as soon as the guillotine began 1 Moniteur, xxii. 21 (Discours de Lindet), 20th Sept. 1794. 2 A. F., ii. 106, Circulaire de Dartigoyte, 25 Floreal. Jacobinism 3 1 to be less active, the assignats (which was the only money possessed by the great majority of the people) began to shrink and vanish in their hands, losing that fictitious value which force alone had enabled it to maintain. Thus, as early as August 1794, the value of assignats had fallen 66 per cent., 72 in October, 78 in December, and 81 in January 1795. From that time the fall went on yet more rapidly, owing to the reckless -emission of paper money by the Government to keep pace with the rapid depreciation in the value of the paper. First ~a milliard of francs was issued, then a milliard and a half, and finally two milliards a month ! Of course this only occasioned a still further decrease in the value of the Government notes. Thus, in June 1795, a single louis d'or was worth 205 francs in assignats, 400 in July, 1000 in August, 1700 in October, 2850 on November 13th, and 3000 on November 21st, while six months later it was worth no less than 19,000. On the other hand, an assignat of the nominal value of 100 francs sold for 4 francs in June 1795, for 3 francs in August, for 15 sous at the end of November, and finally for 5 sous. Of course the price of food rose simultaneously in proportion. On the 2nd of January 1796, one pound of lard cost 50 francs in assignats, a pound of meat 60 francs, a pound of candles 180 francs, and a bottle of wine 100 francs. It is almost impossible for us now to realise in imagination the distress which then overtook those unhappy persons who had to live on pensions and fixed incomes. France contained millions of famishing people, especially in the departments which produced little grain. A municipality of the Seine-et- Marne wrote : ' Since the last fortnight at least two hundred citizens of our commune are without bread, corn, or flour, and they have been living on bran and vegetables. We see children starving, because neither mothers nor wet-nurses can maintain a sufficient supply of natural nourishment for them.' Archives Rationales, A. F., ii. 171. 32 Jacobinism A like misery existed in all the Ile-de-France, in Picardy, and in Normandy. In the neighbourhood of Dieppe whole communes lived on bran and herbs. At Caen, mothers and children had to be driven by force from the fields of peas and other vegetables, which hunger led them to pillage. The Commissary of Laon declared that for the past two or three months whole communes had been without bread, and lived on whatever vegetable substances they could manage to obtain. Mothers of families, old men, and pregnant women, often fell down fainting whilst begging for bread from the Directory. But matters were still worse in the towns than in the country. At Montreuil two hundred citizens were obliged to wander forth into the country to beg for food, while bands of brigands pillaged on all sides. ' Quite lately,' wrote l the Syndic of Saint-Germain, ' the dead body of the father of a family was found in the fields with his mouth full of grass.' At Boulogne- sur-Mer it was only possible to distribute two pounds of bad barley per head, as provision for ten days. At Brienne, out of 1660 inhabitants, 1360 were reduced to live each on a pittance of from three to eight ounces of corn, doled out weekly. At Caen the people lived on barley bread mixed with ox's blood. At Amiens, 20,000 needy souls were nomi- nally allowed half a pound, often practically reduced to four ounces, and this was the case six months after Fructidor, so that the distress which we now depict, and which was subse- quent to the Reign of Terror, was certainly not less than that which we before described during it. Disorders naturally arose. Bread riots took place at Evreux, Dieppe, Vervins, Lille, and many other places. Violence indeed abounded on all sides, and the butt end of the musket was freely used. Such musket blows were needed to teach the peasant patriotism, and the townsmen had to be taught patriotism by blows also. Everywhere physical constraint was freely 1 Archives Nationales, A. F., ii. 70. Jacobinism 33 exercised in the name of ' the people,' and everywhere the real, breathing individual had to groan beneath a tyranny exercised in the name of an ideal ' State.' The men them- selves who exercised the central power of this ideal State had one great anxiety, that of preserving from famine the seat of the Government. Everything that the most absolute and arbitrary power could do to effect this was, as has already been suggested, done. Military posts surrounded the city and patrolled the roads for fifty miles around it. The men who ruled felt that, to save themselves, Paris must be fed, no matter at what price, no matter who might suffer. It soon cost the State 547 million francs a month. Under the old Govern- ment, Paris, although overgrown, yet had its utility. If it absorbed a great deal, it produced a great deal, and instead of living upon the rest of the country, it paid seventy-seven mil- lions of francs into the public treasury. Under the new Government, however, it became a monstrous ulcer on the heart of France, an insatiable parasite, which by its six hundred thousand suckers absorbed all nourishment for a hundred and twenty miles around, and, while devouring every month the whole annual revenue of the State, still remained famished and unappeased. Those who had now come to suffer in the most extreme degree were the lowest of the people, the very insurgents who had again and again urged on the mad Jacobin terror, as well as the far greater mass of miserable people who had had no hand or part in it. 1 ' How many times,' says a Swiss traveller 2 who was in Paris at the end of 1795, ' have I not seen men who had fallen from weakness, without strength to rise again !' We read of no less than seven -wretched people falling down in one street through starvation, and of a woman fighting with a dog for a bone. Meanwhile those at the head of the Government were in very different case. ' Towards ten o'clock,' M. Taine tells 1 Taine, pp. 537 and 539. - Meissner, Voyage d Paris, p. 132. VOL. I. C 34 Jacobinism us, 1 ' Cambaceies, the President destined later on to be the Arch-Chancellor of the Empire, and renowned for his gastro- nomic inventions and other more exceptionable tastes might be seen in the pavilion of Equality, seated before an ample pot au feu, with white bread and good wine. From twelve to two his colleagues arrived, fed, and went to their various occupations. Meanwhile Koux, the President of the Committee of Food and Supply an unfrocked Benedictine, afterwards a Terrorist, and subsequently an employ 4 of Fouche, continued at intervals to harangue the crowds of wretched women who besieged the office, begging for bread. Towards nine or ten at night, the Committee of Public Safety assem- bled again. After more or less prolonged discussion, amicable gaiety ensued ; jaws worked, champagne flowed, and jokes went round amongst those who thought little enough of the millions of empty stomachs amongst " the people," who were nominally their masters, but really their abject slaves.' If such evils were wrought in the name of liberty in France itself, it is no wonder that dire calamities everywhere followed the footsteps of the ' liberating ' armies which over- flowed from France into the surrounding countries. Every- where we find the same contrast between the ' nominal ' and the ' real '; the same grandiloquent phrases served to screen the same crimes, and systematic brigandage invariably followed the proclamation of liberty. The sanguinary farce which had been first played in Paris was repeated in Flanders, Holland, Germany, and Italy, and always ended with the same trans- formation scene a shower of blows to force individuals and corporate bodies to yield up their last coins. The piece generally began with an insurrection, fomented by the nearest French general, whose agents were those discontented souls who are to be found everywhere the Jacobins of the place. In the eyes of the French representatives these Jacobins were 1 Page 548. Jacobinism 35 ' the people/ even if they were but a handful, and of the worst kind. Then followed a command that they must not be repressed or punished, after which a French intervention upset the traditional government, whether Royal, Aristocratic, or Municipal. Next, a copy of the French system was insti- tuted and sustained by French bayonets, and a subject- republic, with the title of ' ally,' was made to pass anti- Christian and levelling laws copied from those of Paris. Then the mushroom legislative body was ' purged ' and ' purged ' again, till it was sufficiently filled with servile tools. The army of the subject state was next added to that of France, and thus 20,000 Swiss were levied to fight against Switzerland and its friends, Belgium was subjected to the conscription, and oppressed and wounded in its national and religious sentiments, till there arose half a dozen local rebellions (like that of La Vendee) in Belgium, Switzerland, Piedmont, Venetia, Lombardy, Rome, and Naples, to repress which fire and sword were freely used, and, above all, pillage. Thus General Lorge brought away (as we learn from Mallet- du-Pan) 165,000 livres pillaged from Sion; Brune, 300,000 from Berne, and Rampen and Pijou 216,000 each. General Duhem, in Brisgau, contented himself with 100 florins daily. Massena, on his entry into Milan at eleven o'clock at night, seized in four hours, without any inventory, the moneys of all the convents, confraternities, hospitals, and pawnbrokers. Altogether, that night brought him in 1,200,000 livres. 1 It may be estimated that the French Jacobins took a total of 655 millions of francs from Belgium, Holland, Germany, and Italy in hard cash. In jewels, gold and silver work, and movable property of all kinds, 666 millions ; and in lands and possessions of the clergy and corporations, and of fugi- tives and opponents, 700 millions more, or about two milliards in all in the course of three years. To replace the multitudes 1 Mallet-du-Pan, Mercure Britannique, February 10, 1799. 36 Jacobinism slain in effecting such plunder, other multitudes were re- quired, and in October 1798, 200,000 more youths were called out. No wonder the Belgian youths revolted, with their motto, ' Better to die at home than abroad.' But it was in vain ; they were brought in with hands bound, or, if they escaped, their relations had to smart for it, and the conscripts themselves were shot if taken, and the property of their relations sequestrated. 1 Thus the vile Directory gained either way. If it lost soldiers, it grasped money in their place, and, in fact, it filled both its coffers and the army list, and was enabled to pillage Europe by squandering French lives at will. A hundred thousand such lives were needed yearly, and thus, together with those sacrificed by the Convention, a mortality of nine hundred thousand was caused in eight years. And all this was for the profit of the five Directors and their creatures. Well may M. Taine say : 2 ' I do not believe that any civilised nation ever before made such a sacrifice for such an object : a remnant of a discredited sect ; a few hundred declaimers who no longer believed in the dogma they preached ; usurpers as much despised as de- tested ; 3 chance survivors carried upwards by the blind waves of revolution, not through any merit of theirs, but because their emptiness gave them little weight.' These were the wretches who strangled France to make her free, and drew her life-blood to give her strength ; who conquered the people under the pretence of freeing them, plundered them under the pretence of regenerating them, and who, from Brest to Lucerne, and from Amsterdam to Naples, robbed and murdered systematically in order to obtain the means of perpetuating their incoherent, stupid, and corrupt rule. 1 Decrees of the 19 Fructidor, year VI., and of the 27 Vende"miaire, year VII. 2 Page 620. 3 Lord Malmesbury's Diary, ii. p. 164, July 14, 1799, shows the aversion of the people for the laws of the Republic. Jacobinism 37 The natural and inevitable end of such a system came, as we all know, through the means it was forced to make use of as the only support of its power that is to say, the army. The advent of that inevitable end had been facilitated by the illegal acts of the chiefs of the State themselves, and the democratic revolts they induced against even the incipient order which was beginning legally and peacefully to arise after the cessation of the Terror. 1 These prepared the way for the final and decisive military revolt. The coups d'etat of the 18 Fructidor, year V., of the 22 Floreal, year VI., and of the 30 Prairial, year VII., 2 naturally led up to the not more illegal coup d'etat of the 18 Brumaire, i.e. the 9th of November, 1799, by which Napoleon put an end to Republican Jacobinism, to the advantage of Democratic Imperialism. When Napoleon came upon the scene, the Revolution had nearly dissolved the French nation. All the various bodies, which had constituted the tissues, organs, and systems of organs of the social body, had been destroyed and reduced to their component millions of isolated atoms. It was as impossible for such a mass of incoherent units to reconstitute a stable state as for the dust or mud of Paris to form itself into Notre Dame. Only two great bodies remained with their old spirit of union and strong internal cohesion. These were the Army and the Clergy; but the latter were persecuted, and had become almost socially impotent. As to the Army, in spite of the violences 1 Lord Malmesbury testifies (ii. p. 544, Sept. 9, 1797) to the arrest of the best men by the Directory men not Royalists, but who wished to limit the Directory's solitary power. He also witnesses (iii. p. 541) to the bad effect of one of the Directory's coups d'etat which destroyed the hope of peace then nearly concluded ; as also (p. 599) to the horror manifested at Lille at the prospect of a revival of the Terror after the coup d'etat. Mallet-du-Pan also recounts (Correspondance ine'dite avec la Cour de Vienne, i. 253) the distress occasioned to all classes by the conduct of the Directory, and its coups d'etat. * Taine, pp. 588, 624, and 625. 433009 38 Jacobinism perpetrated by its generals abroad, loyalty, submission, obedience, discipline, attachment, and fidelity were still to be found within its own body. Those strong and healthy sentiments which unite together human wills in a bond of mutual sympathy, confidence, and esteem, namely, frank comradeship and familiar gaiety such as the French love, were generally diffused in it. These soldiers were but skin-deep republicans, and deemed it natural and proper that the whole nation should be subjected to that sort of discipline with which they were familiar, and which they thought good for themselves. Naturally enough they gave a hearty aid to their recognised chief in his efforts to estab- lish a rule, which he declared was founded on an alliance between philosophy and the sword. By 'philosophy' men then understood the application of abstract principles to politics and the constitution of a state on a uniform pattern according to certain simple general notions. The pattern might be anarchical, as that of the Jacobins, or else despotic ; and naturally the second was chosen by Napoleon. As a practical man, he began to build a structure, every detail of which implied and promoted the omnipotence of the State. The Government became omnipresent. Local and voluntary initiative was everywhere suppressed, the action of all that smacked of hereditary authority was impeded, and those sentiments by which the individual seeks to live in the past and the future were in every possible way discouraged. Never was a more excellent barrack constructed, more symmetrical, more attractive to the vulgar, more satisfying to the superficial mind, more convenient to narrow egotism, more calculated to discipline the vicious and to corrupt the really noble, than that philosophic barrack in which, M. Taine says, the French nation has now dwelt for eighty years. But the tendency to a recrudescence of Jacobinism is Jacobinism 39 clear in France, and a tendency to favour excessive State action and interference is clear amongst English Radicals. Nevertheless Jacobinism is essentially retrograde, and is, in fact, a reversion towards a type of slavery from which Christian civilisation set us free. In ancient Rome and Sparta, which Jacobins take for their models, there were two supreme anxieties the due propitiation of the Immortal Gods, and adequate protection during what was an incessant state of war. In such a condition of things arbitrary power was a necessity, and no conduct of any citizen was exempt from claims requisite for the protection of the city by Divine and human arms. Individual morality, apart from devotion to the State, had no existence. But with the advent of Christianity, not only the external circumstances, but the mental groundwork of them, became changed, and two ideas are now generally diffused which were before unknown those of conscience and honour. Alone and in the presence of God, the Christian finds all the bonds by which the citizen of the ancient state was bound dissolve like wax before the fire. He is bound indeed by duty to his friends, his fellow-citizens, and his temporal rulers ; but such duty reposes ultimately and supremely on his individual duty, as a reasonable soul, to his God. Before that awful Divine tribunal he must stand alone to answer individually for his acts, and no community of citizenship can save him from their consequences. Patriotism has gained an infinitely higher sanction by abdicating its absolute and supreme control. The sentiment of honour also, as often yet more practi- cally effective, is not less socially precious. Its history is inseparable from that of bygone Christian ages. In his castle, at the head of his retainers, the early feudal chief had only himself to look to for support, for the arm of the law was powerless. In such a world of armed anarchy, he who 40 Jacobinism tolerated the least encroachment on his rights, or who allowed to go unpunished a semblance of insult, showed weakness or cowardice, and quickly became the prey of his stronger and bolder neighbours. He was bound to be proud, under pain of death. Pride also was natural to a man who ruled over a domain in which he had no equal. His own person and all that belonged to him was sacred in his eyes, and with this sentiment of self-respect arose that of 'honour' a generous self-respect which forbade base actions to the noble. Of course there were many individual exceptions ; of course vanity and foUy often led to the placing of the point of honour elsewhere than where it should have been placed. Nevertheless, broadly speaking, the sentiment thus generated was of prodigious efficacy, and as age succeeded age, it pre- served the dignity of the nobility even under the most absolute sovereigns. The tradition has descended, modified, ameliorated, and softened, from the old feudal baron to the modern gentleman, ever broadening and extending its bene- ficent influence till, in our own day, the citizen, the artisan, and the peasant (as may be seen especially in Spain) has his point of honour his nobility. Each man now has at the least his own moral castle, wherein his beliefs, his opinions, his sentiments, and his affections are sacred and inviolable. He is lord of a very sacred if very small domain, which honour bids him defend against every possible aggressor. These two ideas, conscience and honour, reign supreme in the moral world of Europe. The first teaches each individual his duties, from which no State command can absolve him ; the other reveals to him his rights, of which no one may justly deprive him. These are, as M. Taine truly says, the two roots of modern civilisation, and through them it flourishes. The modern European is what he is, because of a long past of Christian education, which has made his conscience a sanctuary, and through a long past of knightly Jacobinism 4 1 chivalry, which has constituted his home his castle, a castle which Radicalism and Jacobinism would summon him to surrender, nominally to an abstract ideal, but really to a few unscrupulous demagogues. It is a fact, that in no political system is it so necessary to restrict the powers of the Govern- ment as in a democratic State. To its representatives should be accorded the minimum of confidence and power; and conscience and honour should be specially kept on guard against their encroachments, for with every extension of the suffrage we necessarily have fewer and fewer guarantees for the competence and discretion of our rulers. The great French Revolution, as vividly depicted by M. Taine, has many an important warning for us in England. On these, however, space does not allow us to enlarge now. It must suffice to point out, as tendencies likely to be especially disastrous to us a sentimental tenderness, as distinguished from a rational benevolence, for the less worthy members of the community; weakness in suppressing the beginnings of mob rule ; too light an estimation of what is traditional and hereditary; and forgetfumess that the action of a political natural selection is more to be trusted as evidence of what is useful than the abstract speculations of individual minds. SOREL'S 'EUROPE AND THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.' ISEurope et la Revolution Franpaise. I. Les Maurs Politiques et les Traditions. II. La Chute de la Royaute. Par ALBERT SOREL. Paris : 1885, 1887. M SOREL'S work is as original as it is interesting and instructive. Instead of making one more of the many descriptions which we already possess of the French Revolution itself, it is devoted to a consideration of the environment of that Revolution and of the actions and reactions between France and the other nations of Europe which accompanied it. M. Sorel endeavours, with much success, to set before us how it was that a movement, more or less generally diffused over Europe, culminated in France, and why the waves of that widespread current of opinion, which rose to their highest level in Paris, subsequently produced such different results in different countries. Whereas before 1789 the ruling spirit of surrounding nations was more or less in harmony with that of France, the very success of the French movement evoked on all sides an antagonism which varied in its character according to the previous history and national traditions of the several European States. Thus it came about that a revolution, which was essentially cosmopolitan, ended by changing the relatively cosmopolitan spirit of the Europe of the eighteenth century into the intense nationalism of the nineteenth. But however cosmopolitan were the ideas and principles professed by the leaders of thought at the dawn of the S Orel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 43 Revolution, it would be a great mistake to suppose that the Europe of the ancien regime was composed of States organised on common principles and ruled by monarchs animated by a sense of their common rights and mutual obligations. 'Christendom' had no longer anything more than a nominal existence, and the political ideas of the time of Louis ix. had long died out. Feudal institutions which were at one time generally diffused over Europe west of Muscovy (with the exception of Ireland), had, towards the end of the eighteenth century, either fallen, or were under- mined and ready to fall, ruined by the ' Renaissance,' by the revival of the Roman civil law, and by the philosophic spirit. One idea was, however, common to every continental power the idea of ' the State.' The interests of ' the State ' were deemed supreme and absolute, and its rights were based upon 'prescription.' No one then thought of blaming Voltaire for saying: 1 'Time, opportunity, custom, prescrip- tion, and power together constitute aU rights.' The very different forms of government which then existed in Europe hereditary and elective monarchies, and republics with very different constitutions were all considered to be equally legitimate. There was no idea that one kind of constitution had any real superiority over the others, still less that there could be an ideal constitution applicable to all countries. Thus France, under Louis xvi., intervened in Sweden and Poland against the aristocracy and in favour of the King, while in Prussia it sought to support the aris- tocracy against the sovereign, and combated in Geneva the cause of democracy, which it supported in America, as it supported the national franchises in Belgium and in Holland. During the whole of the eighteenth century there was but one league of crowned heads followed by intervention, and that was against the Kings of Sweden and Poland. Thus a 1 Annales de r Empire, liv. ii. 44 Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' coalition like that of the ' Holy Alliance ' was an impossi- bility before 1789. It required such a cataclysm as that of the French Revolution to bring about even the conception of such a union. The arts of diplomacy usually afford a good idea of contemporary manners and opinions. In the midst of the most cultivated society of old Europe, the diplomatists constituted an especially refined but corrupt group, the study of which easily enables us to understand how it became possible for them to accommodate themselves easily, when the time came, to the men and the ways of the Revolution. Under the ancien regime statesmen did not even profess to be influenced by any considerations but those of 'State interest/ and it might, therefore, seem hardly possible for a diplomatist to attain anything which should be to the detriment of the government to which he was accredited, and in favour of that which he himself represented. His power to occasionally effect this, however, depended upon the fact that though ' reasons of State ' reigned, the ' passions of men and women' governed. This it was which enabled a skilful diplomatist to attain his ends by dexterously playing now upon the jealousy or personal ambition of a minister, now on the affections or venality of a royal mistress. The politician who would succeed had often to stoop very low, and make short work of delicacy or scruples. The mistresses of Versailles, the morganatic wives of Potsdam, and the male favourites of St. Petersburg, had to be gained over by varying forms of corruption. The ideas of 'reform' which permeated Europe in the midst of the break-up of the old order, consisted in the abolition of the last relics of medisevalism the system of the ' dark ages ' by the action of absolute princes themselves, friends of the new order of ideas, and therefore what was then termed 'enlightened.' The whole political system of the philosophers consisted in placing the omnipotence of the S Orel's ' Europe and the French Revolution ' 45 State at the service of the infallibility of reason. As Mercier de la Riviere said, the State ' must govern according to the ideas of men of social orders/ and, so governing, it must be all-powerful. Such conceptions naturally gave rise to the most profound contempt for the English Constitution. Here, says Letrosne, we can make in a moment reforms which change the whole condition of the country, while in England such reforms are always at the mercy of political parties. Rousseau 1 also had nothing but ridicule for the 'stupidity of the English nation.' The idea of the most advanced continental reformers was then by no means to abolish absolute power, but to obtain the use of it ; not to increase the freedom of individual men, but to constrain them in the right direction a direction good for all nations, or rather all mankind apart from their various nationalities. Thus Lessing loudly declared that he had no notion of what a mere love of one's country might be. In 1784 Schiller declared: 'I write as a citizen of the world; I early exchanged the narrow boundaries of my own country for the vast world.' 'Germans,' he cried, 'seek not to form a nation ; be contented with being men.' In his Don Carlos, published in 1787, the Marquess of Posa is his ideal reformer ; he says : 2 ' Man is more than you think, and will break the yoke of his long sleep ... be generous, be strong, and scatter happiness about. . . . See around you how rich nature is in her liberty. . . . Consecrate to the happiness of the people that power which for so long has been devoted to the greatness of the throne.' This adjuration was no mere piece of rhetoric, but expressed the confidence then generally felt in the omnipotence of the State for good or evil. 'Liberty' was then understood to mean the reign of 'enlightenment,' as 'the love of philosophy' was 'virtue.' Much was permitted to those who professed such 'virtue.' 1 Contrat Social, liv. iii. ch. xv. - Act iii. scene 10. 46 Sorel's 'Europe and tJie French Revolution ' The authorship of La Pucelle was not thought any degrada- tion to Voltaire, any more than the RSve de d'Alembert to Diderot, or his Confessions to Rousseau ; such things rather contributed to their celebrity. Catherine n., who cleverly duped the philosophers, since in reality she no more possessed the virtue they esteemed than the virtue to which they were indifferent, was an especial object of their admiration. ' Ah ! my friends, what a sovereign ! ' exclaimed Diderot. ' You must all recognise in her the soul of Brutus in the form of Cleopatra.' Not without apparent reason, then, did absolute rulers view with indulgence the caprices or even the turbu- lence of such philosophers. They felt they could hold them well in hand and make use of them as a sort of intellectual condottieri at their service. A strange mixture of good and evil, of wise reforms and futile arbitrary acts, characterised the governments of that day. Everywhere, but especiaUy in Italy and Germany, intellectual culture was encouraged, schools opened, and universities extended. Religious toleration reigned in Prussia. Gustavus in. introduced it into Sweden, and even the Prince Bishops patronised it. In 1783 the Bishop Elector of Trier made a decree in favour of dissenters for ' the honour of religion, and the increase of commerce.' Torture was abolished in Tuscany and Sweden, and was generally falling into desuetude. Serfdom was suppressed in Baden in 1783, and in Denmark in 1788. It was diminished and attenuated in Prussia by Frederick, and in Bohemia, Moravia, Galicia, and Hungary by Joseph n., who in less than five years attempted, and in great part carried out by his absolute decrees, a revolution greater than that effected by the Constituent Assembly of France. He abolished the ancient territorial divisions and established in their place thirteen governments, each divided into ' circles ' ; he suppressed the various national and provincial diets, and (in the French Sore Ps 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 47 fashion) instituted ' intendants ' in their place. The burgo- masters became his nominees, and the political functions of the nobility were abolished, while they and the clergy were alike subjected to taxation. He sought to impose the German tongue on his Hungarians, Croatians, Czechs, Poles, and Slavs, while he restricted commerce by a system of the most rigorous protection. It is true that he built many schools and hospitals, and ameliorated the condition of the peasantry, but his ideal was to form a State, all the subjects of which should be equal, under a uniform despotism which by education should form all its citizens upon one model. Though he decreed religious toleration, yet, in 1777, he declared that there ought to be only one religion a religion which should guide all the inhabitants of his empire to efficiently contribute to the welfare of the State. And, indeed, philosophy had introduced a new religion into Europe, and one the hostility of which to the system of former days showed itself plainly in the actions even of rulers who sup- posed, or professed, themselves to be the main supporters of Catholicism. As we said before, Christendom, the ideal Christian republic, which was for a brief time realised under Innocent in., and which took common action in the earlier crusades, had no longer more than a nominal existence. The only common action taken by the Catholic Powers in the eighteenth century was that which brought about the suppression of the Jesuits. That famous company, which had so largely contributed to help on the despotism of the Catholic monarchs, had now to reap what it had so industriously and effi- ciently sown. The sovereigns of France, Spain, Naples, Parma, and Portugal had expelled the Jesuits from their domains, as their absolute and unconstitutional power enabled them to do. But they were by no means content with merely carnal weapons. They desired that the head of the Church should also smite them with the spiritual sword. Accordingly, the 48 Sore I 's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' representatives of the 'most faithful,' 'most Catholic,' and 'very Christian' kings made their representations to the Holy See to this effect, and they did so with scant courtesy and small consideration. Their demands were arrogant and menacing. They insisted that the Pope, as a temporal sovereign, should forbid every member of the hated order to enter his territory, and should, as supreme spiritual ruler, suppress them. When Clement xm. tried to resist even the weakest of the allied sovereigns the Duke of Parma France immediately seized Avignon, while Naples occupied Beneventum. Only when his successor had capitulated and actually suppressed the company was the Holy See allowed to recover its States. In the general movement of the European Governments towards an augmentation of despotic power, the Catholic States had to contend with that still powerful body, the Roman Church. That Church had also itself foUowed the common impulse towards centralisation, tih 1 it had come to realise the old Roman imperial power transferred to the domain of religion. A body so rich and apparently defence- less as the Church became a common object of attack. It was not to be expected that rulers who had humiliated and subjected their nobles, and dispersed the national or pro- vincial assemblies of their States, should be content to see within their realms a corporate body, numerous, rich, powerful, well-disciplined, and under the control of a foreign sovereign. The ideal to which they looked with envy was a Church similar to that of Russia, the illustrious monarch of which was declared J by Voltaire to be the only rational one, inasmuch as she paid the priests, whose mouths were opened or shut at her orders. Even in Catholic Spain there was a constant struggle to depress the Church from the beginning of the reign of Philip v. to the end of that of Charles in. 1 In a letter to Count Schouvalof of December 3, 1768. Sorel's ''Europe and the French Revolution ' 49 Pombal followed suit in Portugal, while Ferdinand of Parma and Leopold of Tuscany were active in the same direction, suppressing convents, and even interfering in the details of public worship. The Republic of Venice imitated the monarchies, and the very Prince Bishops of Germany joined the movement. In 1785 those of Trier, Mainz, Kb'ln, and Strasburg sent a formal notice to the Roman curia inti- mating that, if they were not allowed to reject papal bulls when they thought fit so to do, they would convoke a national council. Thus it was that, when the French Revolution broke out, it found ready to its hand accepted maxims and received views which had but to be vigorously applied in order, as it seemed, to make an end for good and all of the despised and detested tyranny of centuries past. Yet, by the irony of fate, the very measures thus initiated, by occasioning war with Europe, and the rise of Napoleon, served to raise papal absolutism in the spiritual domain to a far higher level than it had ever before attained under the most powerful of the mediaeval pontiffs. It was the decrees of the Constituent Assembly in favour of the civil constitution of the clergy which finally decided Louis xvi. to demand the intervention of Europe, and which let loose civil war in France. M. Sorel himself says : ' One may say that of all the errors of the Assembly that was the most calamitous ; it exercised the most dissolving action on the State and nation, and opened the abyss into which the Kevolution plunged headlong. The Assembly was led into it less by a false appreciation of what was politically expedient than by the blinding effect of its own passions. The strongest sentiment of the most " enlightened " of the eighteenth century was anti-religious passion. In their eyes the Church not only represented a tyranny, but they hated it as a privileged and very opulent corporation. They ardently desired to suppress its privileges, confiscate its wealth, and reduce its members to an equality with other citizens.' (Vol. ii. p. 115.) VOL. I. D 50 Sorel' s 'Europe and the French Revolution ' It would have been possible to do this without produc- ing a fatal crisis. The Church would, of course, have pro- tested, but the necessities of the moment, and the intense national sentiment which had been evolved, would have sufficed to cause the acceptance of a measure which har- monised with the principles of the new constitution. But the Assembly made a profound mistake when it attempted, at one and the same time, to proclaim freedom of worship while erecting a new State Church on an exaggeration of the principles of 1682. Professed freethinkers, inveterate enemies of all religious belief and of every church; legists, experts in all the subtleties of the Roman civil law but quite indifferent or hostile to Christian doctrine; Pro- testants, just emancipated from iniquitous laws which re- garded their faith as treason, with a few Jansenists and unfrocked priests, composed the strange council which sat at Paris pretending to found a new State Church. The decrees of that council were such as might have been expected. Pastors were to be nominated by an electoral college of each district, the members of which might be of any religion or of none, and the loudly vaunted religious freedom was soon violated in the persons of the nonjuring clergy and their followers. They, as we know, quickly became objects, first of suspicion, then of active hostility, and ultimately of furious persecution. Thus, as M. Sorel observes, ' this assembly of philosophers found itself led by the force of logic to violate, almost as soon as decreed, one of the principles most passionately demanded by the philosophy of the age religious toleration.' We will next follow our author in a brief survey of the various nations of Europe at this eventful period. Holland owed much to France. Henry iv. and Louis xni. had largely aided the establishment of the Dutch Republic, and an active and influential French party had existed in SorePs 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 5 1 Holland since the end of the sixteenth century. Neverthe- less, there also existed a germ of hostility to a French alliance, because the independence of Holland was more directly threatened by the preponderance of France than even by that of the house of Austria, while it had little to fear from England. Thus it came about that the Dutch Government joined with England and Sweden hi resisting the advance of Louis xiv., which act led to the invasion of Holland, and ultimately to the peace of Utrecht. The earlier half of the eighteenth century was passed by the Dutch in easy confidence and prosperous commerce, but in the latter half a struggle began between the Stadholder and the burghers, the former being favoured by England, the latter by France. The action of France, however, was soon para- lysed by the incipient stages of its Revolution, so that it could not contend with England and Prussia, or prevent the Stadholder becoming established as a sort of constitutional sovereign. Many of his opponents and many Dutch demo- crats migrated to France, and thus it was that the Revolu- tion found Holland under a hostile ruler, while yet an important part of the nation was sympathetic with the French. Later on, however, the success of the French revolutionary government brought about the same position of affairs as had existed under Louis xiv. ; for the Dutch democracy could no more see with equanimity the power of France extending to the Meuse and to the Rhine than could the Dutch patricians before. Thus, after an interval of a century, a similar succession of circumstances first associated and then dissociated the two countries and led to a similar struggle, resulting (after the fall of Napoleon) in even a greater triumph for Holland than that which followed upon the humiliation of the Grand Monarque. While Holland was thus, by its interests, alternately attracted to France and England, Spain, in 1789, seemed 5 2 SoreVs * Europe and the French Revolution ' indissolubly attached to France. The two dynasties, the two governments, and the two nations were united in the closest bonds by what was called the Pacte de famille. This was a treaty of alliance, signed on August 15, 1761, during the most disastrous crisis of the Seven Years' War, when Spanish intervention alone saved France from the most crushing defeat. In spite of all efforts on the part of Charles in., Spain was in a state of rapid decay. The main immediate cause of this was the constant decrease in the amount of the treasure sent to the mother country by its American colonies, which suffered from every kind of bad government, and became more and more affected by a spirit of revolt, greatly promoted by the struggle going on with England in North America. Oppressed and exhausted, and with no foreign trade, the Spanish colonies participated in all the causes of Spain's decline, without having that support which the mother country derived from the traditions of her past. In 1788 Charles iv. came to the throne, unhappily for Spam. Corpulent and weak-minded, chaste and devout, he was incapable of thinking evil of any one, and was the slave of his worthless wife, Marie Louise of Parma, who despised him heartily, and who, though thirty-four years of age (her husband was not forty), was herself the slave of the handsome guardsman Godoy, thirteen years her junior. Thus, at the eve of the French Revolution, the grave and once terrible Spanish monarchy was represented, to use M. Sorel's expression, by the three characters so familiar in old comedy namely, a good-natured husband duped by a mature wife, the catspaw of a needy young lover. Charles in. had been one of Europe's ' enlightened ' rulers, but his well-intended reforms were in opposition to the sentiment of the nation. Spam, as we have seen, felt the effects of the flood of philosophic reform which flowed over Europe. But it was, in our author's opinion, a very shallow wave Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution'' 53 which passed over the Iberian peninsula, and its soil was not of a nature to be gravely affected by it. Much attached to the national dynasty, hostile to innovations, and indifferent to general political liberty, the Spaniards were passionately affected by two things only their religion and their pro- vincial franchises. Their habitual external obedience to their rulers, however, disguised an ardent spirit of indepen- dence, which showed itself unmistakably whenever they were deeply stirred. This was plainly shown later on when their dynasty was overthrown, their religion threatened, and their customs and habits of life outraged by the results of the French Kevolution. Then it was that those Spaniards who had been deemed as of no account, except as examples of national decay, rose with a burst of patriotism and furious fanaticism which disconcerted most of Europe's politicians. To these deep-seated conservative tendencies the new reign appealed. Charles iv., his queen, and Godoy became, before all things, devout the king conscientiously, the queen hypocritically, Godoy politically. They instituted a reaction which became popular, and for which the course taken by the French Kevolution afforded a pretext. The Inquisition was re-established, the Church regained her power, and the people were content. Nevertheless, the government was not seriously and persistently hostile to that of revolutionary Paris, because the queen only desired war that her lover might have an opportunity of distinguishing himself, while she desired peace that he might be popular. Thus Spain became alternately the ally of England and of France. It condemned the revolutionary government violently, combated it feebly, and finally sought it and succumbed to it. Italy was, in the eighteenth century, growing to be again more than 'a geographical expression.' Literature and art were creating the idea of her nationality, and Italians were 54 Sorer s 'Europe and the French Revolution ' looking back with longing eyes to their own distant past. As Catherine II. wrote, in 1780, 'Italy waits and hopes'; and Madame de Stael gave expression to what had long been the feeling of cultured Italy when she said, 1 'The Italians are much more remarkable for what they have been, and for what they may be, than for what they are at present.' In a country so divided politically, and which had under- gone such repeated transformations, local loyalty was not to be expected. Only the Piedmontese had any real attach- ment to their government. The dynasties of Parma, Tus- cany, and Naples had had too little permanence to inspire loyalty, and the Pope was, of course, an elected sovereign whose reign could be but short. In Northern Italy feudalism was hated almost as much as in France, and the clergy were very commonly detested. Thus the Revolu- tion found that part of the country cordially sympathetic. The democratic passion for abstract rights was widely dis- seminated, and the lower classes were already seeking to give practical expression to their sentiments. A Piedmontese gentleman having forbidden a procession to pass through his grounds, the peasants cried out, ' If the nobles are not quiet we will burn their houses.' At Carouge, in 1789, the inob threatened to hang the Intendant, who fled, and at Chambery the governor resigned his powers to the town council. 2 In 1790 there were revolts in Leghorn, Pistoia, and Florence. Bernis, the French ambassador, wrote home that the regency had yielded all the people asked, and that, nevertheless, tranquillity was not established in the Grand Duchy. The Kingdom of the Two Sicilies was under the nominal rule of Ferdinand iv., but was really governed by his wife, Marie Caroline, and her favourite, Acton. The sympathies 1 Corinne, liv. i. ch. v. a Bianchi, Storia delta Monarchia Piemontese, vol. i. ch. ix., Sections 2 and 3. Bolta, Hist, d'ltalie, liv. ii. Paris, 1824. Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 5 5 of the latter were entirely on the side of the English, and thus the southern end of the peninsula was in antagonism to the north. The Pope was naturally, and of necessity, anti-revolutionary. The Republics of Genoa and Venice were in a state of most unstable equilibrium. At each deliberation of the Genoese Senate, the doge exclaimed, ' Remember, senators, the safety of the republic depends on its neutrality.' At Venice, the doge, Renier, declared, 'If there is a State which has need of peace it is ours. We possess neither army, nor fleet, nor allies ; but live hazard- ously on our great reputation for wisdom. This is all our power.' The Venetians trembled before Austria, which coveted their territory, and leaned, or tried to lean, on the support of France, while owing their continued existence to the rivalry between those powerful nations. The only State with a traditional policy was Sardinia, which also tried to balance itself between France and Austria, making use of the former to obtain additions to its territory, and of the latter to assure the continued possession of what had thus been gained. Towards 1789 very cordial relations existed between France and Sardinia, which were promoted by the double marriage of Louis xvi.'s brothers with the daughters of Victor Amadeus. When Russia and Austria were threatening Turkey, the Sardinians felt that if they were to make a figure in the world they ought to take part in the then Eastern question, and that they should ally themselves with France and England a curious anticipation of the Sardinian policy in the Crimean war. In 1789 the Holy Roman Empire had become but a shadow of what it once had been. Whilst in England and France feudalism had disappeared, to give place to a central- ised monarchy, hi Germany the very reverse process had taken place, and the feudatory States had become practically independent, their independence having been solemnly con- 56 Sore I' s 'Europe and the French Revolution ' firmed by the treaty of Westphalia. In theory, Imperial Germany extended over 660,000 square kilometres, with from 28 to 30 millions of inhabitants. The map of the empire exhibited an extraordinary number of territorial divisions most unequal in extent. In Suabia, the Upper Rhine, and Westphalia, the map resembled a veritable mosaic, and States of every kind, from those of simple knights upwards, were therein included. The free cities and ecclesiastical princi- palities together formed about a seventh part of the whole. The Holy Roman Empire was an empire without subjects, \vithout a constitution, and without a sovereign. The only imperial institutions were the Chamber of Wetzler, the aulic council at Vienna, and the diet which, in 1788, had been convoked at Ratisbon. The diet was an assemblage of delegated diplomatic lawyers, which could never really deliberate, or even discuss. A question addressed to it by the Emperor had to be referred by each delegate to his government, which replied at its leisure by a note which its delegate had to communicate to the diet. This assembly was composed of three colleges, and the consent of two of these was necessary to the validity of any resolution. The first college was the electoral college, which chose the Emperor, and consisted of the Electors of Mainz, Trier, Bohemia, the Palatinate, Saxony, Brandenburg, and Hanover. The second was the college of princes, and had an ecclesi- astical bench and a lay bench. The third college was that of the free cities. The diet was little more than a court for registering the decisions of the various States therein represented by their delegates. So cumbrous a piece of machinery came, naturally, to be little used and much neglected. Out of the hundred delegates the princes had power to send there were but fourteen at Ratisbon in 1788, and only eight out of the fifty-one to which the free cities were entitled. Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 5 7 The Emperor was but the pompous image of a sovereign. He had the command of an army, which could not be assembled except by a decree of the diet. His normal budget amounted but to 13,884 florins, and a decree for an extraordinary credit was needed for any further sum. His government consisted of a vice-chancellor and some clerks, and his functions were to bring business before the diet and to promulgate its decrees. He was, in fact, the very digni- fied president of a confederation of practically sovereign States. His feudatories, from Prussia and Bavaria down- wards, were actuated by but two desires to increase their possessions and their power. Thus it was that the princes saw at first in the French Revolution nothing but an opportunity for obtaining eman- cipation and aggrandisement. Towards 1789 the States bordering the Rhine had sought French protection and were under French influence. The only hostile potentate was the Archbishop Elector of Koln, who was the brother of the Queen of France. The French King had been accustomed to find not only allies but recruits in Western Germany, and some of his regiments were levied there. As has been said, Germany was then agitated by ideas which were akin, as far as expressions and appearances went, to those of revo- lutionary France. But the very different antecedents of the two peoples gave very different meanings to the same phrases. The German, however he might declaim about a citizenship of the world, held firmly to his traditional customs. The poet who was most thoroughly impregnated by the sentiments of Rousseau could yet say, 1 ten years after the meeting of the States-General, ' Unhappy he who would deprive men of their affection for things venerable, the precious legacy of our ancestors! Time consecrates them, and makes things which were but respect- 1 Wallemtein, act i. scene 4, 1799. 58 Sore I 's ''Europe and the French Revolution able in the eyes of the old, absolutely sacred in the eyes of childhood.' The Germans had also preserved their religious tradi- tions; Voltairian scepticism had affected but the mere surface of society, and had not penetrated beneath it. la France, irreligion preceded the Revolution, prepared the way for it, and stamped it with its anti-Christian character. In Germany, on the other hand, rationalism assumed airs of piety, and men sought to harmonise their new ideas with old doctrines. 'La Profession de Foi du Vicaire Savoyard,' which only suggested to France the paradox of the civil constitution of the clergy, produced a religious revival in Germany. It was the same thing with respect to democracy. The whole history of France had prepared the way for it, and it was in the manners and character of the people. In 1789 one decree sufficed to bring the law into harmony with this sentiment. In Germany, enlightenment, reform, and progress had come from the princes. If the people had wants it was for the State to satisfy them, and if they had desires it was for the Princes to gratify them. They habitually showed great deference towards the established powers, not as a matter of prudence, but from taste and conviction. Their idea was to strengthen the powers by reforming them, and in no way to upset them. A levelling of ranks was a thing repugnant to them, and anarchy they held in horror. This Teutonic spirit was well expressed by Lessing, when he said, 'Do not throw away your muddy water till you get clean water to replace it; do not pull down the temple, but construct another beside it.' In spite, however, of these, characteristic differences, the first outburst of the French Revolution not only profoundly moved them, but strongly attracted their sympathies. The passion which roused them, however, was thoroughly German, and it was into their own Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 59 modes of thought and feeling that they unconsciously trans- lated the French proclamations of the rights of a sovereign people and the lofty virtue of patriotism. To them it appeared that the first of the rights of man was the right for them to be Germans. The very spread of French patriotic principles gave to the Germans a new love for their own language, a new taste for their own poetry, an intense sentiment of their nationality, the worship of their own history, and a respect for themselves. The revolutionary spirit which in France produced a rupture with the past, contempt for which was its very first principle, became for Germans the reunion of ties broken centuries before, and the re-establishment of a worship of ancestors. In spite of the antecedently wide extent of French influ- ence in Germany and the fashion which had so long existed of copying the ways of France, the principles of its Revolu- tion raised up in Germany a nation which soon became, first suspicious of the French Government, and then hostile to it. Nevertheless, these sentiments showed themselves differently in different parts of the empire. In those regions where the traditions of the Middle Ages had become, as in France, all but extinct, the Revolution was heartily accepted and acted on. This was especially the case on the left side of the Rhine, above all at Mainz, where a group of men existed eager for liberty and fuh 1 of the new ideas such as Forster and all the future leaders of the ' Republique Rhenane.' The Prince Bishop Frederick Charles Joseph d'Ecthal invited innovators, attempted to make reforms, and tried to found an ' enlightened ' govern- ment. He only succeeded, however, in encouraging the taste for change, and in preparing the way for the Revolu- tion. For the rest, reforms were more or less to the taste of each government, which saw how much the State had to gain by them, and by identifying itself with many 60 Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' of the French principles and practices. Nassau gave birth to the famous reformer, Baron Frederick Charles Stein, the greatest statesman of his country, and one of the most noble and penetrating geniuses which Germany has at any time produced. He belonged to one of the few families, barons of the empire, who had not only preserved feudal customs, but their public utility also, and legi- timated their rights and privileges as their mediaeval predecessors had done by services rendered; gradually emancipating and elevating their subjects, whose forefathers then* ancestors had protected against misery and brigandage. It was Stem who suggested to the Princes of Germany the idea of benefiting themselves by the abolition of feudal burdens, by useful reforms, and by presenting themselves to their subjects as incarnations of patriotism. Curiously fatal to France were the results of the great French move- ment. As M. Sorel observes ' In simplifying the map of Germany . . . France did away with those material obstacles which had previously opposed the union and consolidation of Germany. By secularisations and mediatisations France took from the ecclesiastical governments and the nobles hold- ing directly of the Emperor (a condition which isolated them and kept them in a sort of reciprocal exile) populations which were no sooner transferred to lay States than they became rapidly fused together. She thus agglomerated and concentrated populations, and opened avenues for the advance of that national spirit which her revolu- tionary propaganda had set going. Finally, in 1806, the Holy Roman Empire was indeed destroyed, but thereby Germany was resuscitated. The tie which France had broken was one which had long been worn and feeble, while she founded in its place indestruct- ible attachments amongst the German peoples. In dissolving the empire, which was but the phantom of a State, she united the Germans into the most redoubtable of nations. It was the scattered, separated condition of these peoples which had made the destruction of the empire so easy ; in reuniting them, the re-establishment of the empire itself was prepared.' Sorefs 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 6 1 Thus it was that, though at the end of the eighteenth century the 'House of Austria' was a great power and had practically a continuous possession of the legally elective imperial dignity, it was not as 'Emperor,' but as the ruler of his scattered hereditary States, that the head of that house was powerful. These States, besides the Austrian Archduchy and the Kingdoms of Hungary and Bohemia, included Croatia, Sclavonia, Transylvania, the Bukowina, part of Galicia, a fragment of Silesia, with Moravia, Styria, Carniola, Carinthia, and the Tyrol. To these were added the Milanese territory (divided by Venice and the Yaltelina from the other Austrian dominions), together with Belgium and Luxemburg (separated off by the Bishopric of Liege), and a number of towns and lord- ships in Suabia. The official title of the ruler of these varied domains, before his election to the empire, was ' King of Bohemia and Hungary ' ; but, little by little, the custom arose of designating the totality of his pos- sessions by the appellation which its reigning house had derived from its ancient archduchy. Altogether these States included 140,000 square kilometres, and about 24,000,000 of inhabitants. These were about the propor- tions of France ; but whereas in France the whole State was homogeneous and coherent, in Austria all was hetero- geneous and disintegrated. The difficulty of bringing about harmonious action with States so different in conditions and antecedents was necessarily immense. Add to this the cumbrous complications of the imperial rule, and it becomes plain that the 'internal affairs' of the Austrian government must have resembled the 'foreign affairs' of any more centralised State. The monarchy was reduced to apply to itself those rules of conduct which the other Powers of Europe, hi their perpetual rivalry, were accus- tomed to apply to each other, and popular aspirations 62 Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' were similarly exceptional. In France federalism was con- sidered treason to the nation. In Austria every move- ment which had any chance of becoming popular must necessarily tend to federalism. The one constant ami of the Austrian monarch was to make his shadowy imperial position a substantial reality, and to become the effective as well as legal ruler of a united Germany. Hence arose a profound hostility to Prussia, the weakening or dis- memberment of which was necessary to the success of his plans. One great means of increasing Austrian power was the much-desired acquisition of Bavaria, either by conquest or by exchanging the distant province of Belgium for it. As to Poland, Austria was strongly interested in main- taming it as a barrier against Russia, while at the same time she feared the consequences which might ensue to herself from an effective reform of the Polish Republic. She therefore, in M. Sorel's opinion, preferred to maintain anarchy in that State, regarding it as a reserve whence provinces might be carved out hi the future. Austria also, he tells us, looked forward to aggrandisement at the expense of Turkey, and on that account, as also for other reasons, was glad that France should have its hands full, that it might not be able to join with Prussia in any hostile action. In 1788, therefore, Joseph n. judged that the state of affairs at Versailles was critical enough to permit him to do as he liked in the East, and so under- took, in concert with Catherine n., a war of conquest against the Ottoman Empire. It thus became his interest that France, while possessing the external appearance of a normally constituted State, should neither recover its wonted elasticity nor its vigorous activity. The French Revolution, therefore, appeared to him to be singularly opportune, and his passive attitude with regard to it, as Sore I 's 'Europe and the French Revolution' 63 well as that of his brother Leopold, who succeeded him, was perfectly consistent. The intellectual development of Austria was very inferior to that of France. 'Enlightenment,' though patronised by such statesmen as Kaunitz, and popular in certain circles, was generally but little esteemed and somewhat dreaded. Up to 1764 the Jesuits were the chief teachers. The universities, colleges, and schools were in their hands, and they controlled the censorship, which was rigid enough, however formal and ineffective education might be. Thus it needed an express command of the Empress Maria Theresa to enable Montesquieu's Esprit des Lois to pass the frontier. Intellectually inferior, the morality of Vienna was in no way superior. The famous 'Commission concerning Chastity,' established by the Empress, and the rude lessons she gave to those about her, had but small effect in checking the sensual frivolity so common in her capital. Meanwhile the various Austrian States only understood political liberty as being a sanction for those forms of local government which were traditional for the most part aristocratic institutions, the spirit of which was quite opposed to the Revolution. The peasantry desired, indeed, relief from feudal burdens, but these they expected from the hands of the sovereign alone, from whom they awaited some such enlargement of their civil liberty. Thus there was an actual antithesis in Austria between these two forms of freedom. An advance in political liberty seemed to Austrians to make civil liberty more difficult of attainment, while such civil reforms as were accomplished turned to the profit of absolute power, and were hostile to that political liberty which in many parts of the Monarchy was much more highly prized. Thus the reforms of Joseph ii., radical, arbitrary, decreed with violence, and applied with feebleness, gave rise to widespread revolt 64 Sorel's 'Eiirope and the French Revolution ' and almost to revolution. The nobles and clergy, clamour- ing for their immunities, would lend no support to the central power ; while the imperial agents, puzzled and paralysed by contradictory orders, produced by their acts an intensification of that provincialism they were instituted to destroy. In Bohemia, the nobility began again to speak Czech and to demand the convocation of ' the States/ while the Hungarians clamoured for their diet. In the Low Countries a revolt took place, which was only suppressed with much difficulty by Joseph's successor, the Emperor Leopold. It was a very interesting movement, as it illus- trated the existence there, before 1789, of French demo- cratic ideas side by side with that more dominant passion for antique rights and liberties which culminated in actions of bloodthirsty cruelty, anticipating in the cause of religion excesses afterwards perpetrated in Paris by the enemies of all religious faith. The Belgian revolt was mainly directed to bring about the restoration of mediaeval insti- tutions and clerical privileges. Yet then, as in our own day, two very different parties existed, which, though they acted in concert against the Emperor, divided in mutual hostility as soon as they thought they had safely established a Republic. There was a vigorous minority, led by a citizen named Vonck, which was animated by a democratic anti- clerical spirit. The much more numerous and popular party, however, was that of the nobility and clergy, who treated the Vonckists, suspected of philosophy, much as the French democrats afterwards treated the suspected aristocrats. The Jesuit Fuller and Canon Duvivier, de- nounced the Vonckists as disciples of Voltaire and accom- plices of Austria. A pamphlet advised the people to confiscate their goods and make use of them for the service of the State. 'You will only take back,' they said, ' what your slaughtered patriots have been robbed Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 65 of.' On March 15, 1790, placards were posted up in Brussels inviting the 'patriots' to assemble in the great square for the defence of religion, the constitution, and liberty. Lists of 'the suspected' were drawn up, and houses marked for plunder and massacre in the name of the people. An imprudent word meant death. One day a casual passer-by was charged with insulting an image of the Virgin which was being carried in procession. Instantly he was seized and hanged to a street lamp. The cord broke. The crowd made him kneel down and then sawed his head off, which they triumphantly carried about on a pike through the city. Such was the dis- cordant and divided condition then existing in the various parts of the wide dominions of the ' House of Austria.' Yery different, indeed, was the condition of the Prussian monarchy. In 1786 Mirabeau wrote, 'To-day Prussia is the pivot upon which hangs peace or war.' In the last years of the ancien regime that country occupied the attention of all political minds in France. It excited their ardent admiration. Those who were most eager for reform spoke of the Prussian monarchy as the 'great and effi- cient machine at which superior artists have laboured for centuries.' It was, for the philosophers, the very ideal of an 'enlightened' government; yet it rapidly became the most ardent adversary of the Eevolution, and after- wards effected those repeated changes of policy with which history has made us familiar. They did but serve, however, to further develop those characteristics which Prussia had had from its very beginning. It would not be easy to imagine a government more antithetic to Austria. In Prussia all the social and political forces tended to pro- duce a compact and coherent State, which, instead of being modified by its environment, itself gave forth vigorous im- pulses on all sides. Formed in the sixteenth century by the VOL. i. E 66 Sorel' s 'Erirope and the French Revolution ' forcible union of the March of Brandenburg with the territory of the Order of the Teutonic Knights, it was at its very outset essentially military and dynastic, the sovereign being at the head of a thoroughly warlike nobility and of an army orga- nised like a military order. The State was, as it were, con- ceived in aggression and born in conquest; and aggression and conquest were its continual pre-occupation. Its territory being without well-defined frontiers, all lands in its vicinity were welcome prey. But though very often easy to conquer, they were almost always difficult to retain ; hence the con- tinued preponderance of the military spirit. Part of Poland was interposed between the two primitive constituents of the State, and therefore there could be no rest till that was appropriated. Conquerors at first by necessity, the Prussians acquired the taste and temperament for conquest. War was said to be their 'national industry,' an industry which culminated under Frederick the Great. The religious liberty he instituted was peculiar, in Europe, to Prussia. It sprung, however, from no respect for conscience or love for freedom on his part, but was the result both of his scepticism and moral indifference, as well as of his political interest since it served as a bait to attract useful strangers. At Berlin, scepticism became for a time the fashion, and was accompanied by the most profound and gross moral de- pravity. When, however, the great warrior was succeeded by his nephew, Frederick William n., a complete reaction set in. In 1788 two edicts appeared, one against liberty of con- science, the other against liberty of the press; and philo- sophic writings had to be submitted to an examination by orthodox ministers. A victim to superstition of all kinds, and a devotee of what we should now call ' spiritism,' Frederick William was curiously lax in his conjugal relations. In 1790 the King of Prussia was a widower who had three living wives : the Princess of Brunswick, whom he had Sore I 's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 67 repudiated ; the Princess of Darmstadt, who, though divorced, retained the title of queen ; and Madame Dcenhof, his second morganatic wife. In 1792 he separated from Madame Dren- hof, and offered his hand to a Mademoiselle Bethmann, the daughter of a banker, who, however, declined the equivocal honour. This curious mixture of practical libertinism with pietistic scruples greatly diverted Catherine n. of Russia, who did not think herself bound to practise so many formalities. Writing to Grimm of the King, in June 1790, she said : ' That " gaillard " never has enough legitimate wives to satisfy him ; if there ever was a conscientious gaillard, he is one.' The political results of his curious character were as confused and contradictory as were his moral tendencies ; and the out- break of the French Revolution found him in a state of vacil- lation and uncertainty from which much was to be hoped, but hardly less was to be feared. Sweden had played a great, though transitory, part in the world of the seventeenth and beginning of the eighteenth centuries, but it had suffered much from its princes. After Gustavus Adolphus, Charles xii. lost his Baltic provinces, and, yielding the empire of the north to Russia, left his country discouraged, exhausted, and divided against itself. One party sought a guarantee against royal caprice in their nation's ancient 'liberties,' but the result was an advance towards aristocratic anarchy and national enfeeblement. In 1772 Gustavus in. made his successful coup d'etat, and firmly established the royal power. The philosophers applauded. Gustavus was their disciple. He loved ' enlightenment/ and ' overthrew the altars of fanaticism.' In truth, however, he did employ the power he had seized in the reform of various abuses. But such success as he had achieved by no means sufficed him. Bold, but twenty-six years of age, and ani- mated by an ardent love of glory, he burned with a desire to astonish the world and to make the famous salons of Paris 68 SoreFs 'Eiirope and the French Revolution ' (which had possessed so great a fascination for him ever since he first figured in them) re-echo with his praises and with admiration at the renown he had gained. It was with the spirit of a knight-errant that the King of Sweden received the news of the French troubles. Poland, the faults of the anarchical constitution of which are an historical commonplace, was remarkable for its physically defenceless condition. A country of vast plains with indistinct frontiers, it invited invasion. The 'nation' consisted of an army of nobles living in an enslaved and conquered country, the wretched serfs of which were entirely at the mercy of their masters' passions. These nobles loved fetes and social pleasure, and to enable them to gratify their tastes, the peasants were ruined by exactions and ground down by oppression. To the latter it mattered little what might be the national denomination of their tyrants if the character of their rule remained unchanged ; while any change was welcome which improved or was likely to im- prove their hard lot. In arming the peasantry against the enemy, the nobility always exposed themselves to a jacquerie. When Poland was first partitioned, in 1772, by Prussia, Russia, and Austria, the Poles awaked at last to their extreme peril, profited by the example which Gustavus in. had just set in Sweden, and at the cele- brated Diet of Grodno, in 1788, laws were passed which at last gave some stability to the monarchy and placed some restraint upon the nobility. It was, however, too late. The king, Stanislas Poniatowski, had no other title to reign than the fact of his having been a lover of the Empress Catherine. Upon the throne of Poland he still remained under the spell of her influence, and the ties of past favouritism always paralysed in him the patriotic wishes of 'the king.' Jealousies and dissensions soon abounded, and the French Revolution still further ex- Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 69 aggerated the division of parties. In so far as its spirit penetrated amongst the people, it excited them against their lords. Everything, in fact, tended in Poland towards the extension of anarchy and the decay of the State, and at the same time everything concurred to strengthen and elevate Russia. Burke condemned the French Revolution because it let loose anarchy; he admired that of Poland because it repressed anarchy. This repression of anarchy was, however, precisely that which constituted its crime in the eyes of most of the statesmen of old Europe. It thwarted their policy; and, as they were guided by no principles but those of self-interest, neither the diversity of the events, nor the contradiction between the judg- ments they respectively formed concerning them, caused them any embarrassment. In spite of the warmth of patriotism which animated those who carried out the Polish Revolution, reforms advanced but slowly. The diet had decreed that the army should consist of 100,000 men. It was only with great difficulty that 50,000 could be raised and very moderately equipped. Those who had had to give way that is to say, the old Russian party and chief of the ultra-aristocratic faction soon recovered courage. Seeing no way of restoring the old state of things except that of following the old ways, they addressed them- selves to Catherine. They claimed their traditional 'liber- ties,' by which they meant the liberum veto and the ' right of confederation' which, in reality, represented nothing but the permanence of anarchy and the right of civil war. These men, the confederates of Targowitz, allied themselves with the Russians to destroy the new constitution, and so effected the final ruin of their country, as the national resistance was ineffectual. When Europe invaded France in the beginning of that war to which the work here reviewed is introductory French patriots boldly faced the 70 Sorer s 'Europe and the French Revolution ' invasion, resisted and repelled it. In Poland the patriots tried to arrest it, but in spite of their valour they suc- cumbed. The reason was that in France a most lively national spirit aroused in all men those passions which are the safeguard of a nation the love of independence and the horror of foreign intervention. In Poland, on the other hand, civil wars, confederations between parties of the nobility, foreign alliances, and the insubordination of indi- viduals and parties, were the necessary outcome of their past history. In France, after a transitory anarchy, the people spontaneously returned to the habits of more than six centuries of monarchy and national concentration; but Poland returned to her traditional anarchy and dissension. In Poland there was no middle class and no peasant pro- prietors as in France, and, in fact, no true nation. There were but a few thousand nobles, who formed parties, tore the State into pieces, and disputed its fragments. The Polish Revolution, good so far as it went, was, after all, a revolution made by nobles for the good of nobles, and it perished because there was no real nation which could or would vigorously sustain it. In Russia such artistocratic turbulence was impossible, while the democratic revolutionary propaganda could not influence it. This was the case not merely on account of distance, but still more on account of the national character. Three conditions which made the Revolution possible in France were absent in Russia. There was no noblesse at the same time powerless and privileged; there was no strong and ambitious bourgeoisie ; and there were no peasant proprietors. The Russians mistook revolutionary France for another Poland; that is to say, they regarded it as an object meriting the most profound contempt. Ruling a country united hi the bonds of one religious belief and animated by one political aspiration, the extension of the Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 7 1 empire, each Russian sovereign in turn was driven by a continuous instinct towards aggrandisement at the expense of Turkey, Sweden, and Poland. The Empress Catherine was sixty years old in 1789. In spite of the number of her lovers, she always remained the sovereign, and never, like Louis xv., allowed her passions to mar her political projects. Her person she would bestow, but her power she jealously reserved. It was the same with her friendships: though she styled the 'philosophers' her masters, and treated them as familiar friends, that did not for an instant blind her to the absurdities of the French Republic, or pre- vent her from expressing her scathing contempt for it. Neither did it disarm her hostility, although this hostility conveniently confined itself to pushing others forward to contend with it in her place. It should not surprise us that she favoured anarchy in Poland, though she hated and contended against it in Paris. Both sentiments were due to one cause the -perception of her own interests. The Polish anarchy favoured her designs, but that of Paris deranged her calculations. As M. Sorel tells us, at the moment of the assembly of the States-General, Catherine had extorted a reluctant assent to her policy on the part of Louis xvi., who painfully felt his abandonment of Sweden (so old an ally of France) and the shame of recognising the partition of Poland. The further and final absorption of that country was what Catherine had then most at heart. France was momentarily paralysed, though still envied for its wealth and the energy of its sentiment of nationality. Catherine, as has been said, hated the Revolution from the first. The quadruple alliance which she had proposed to form with Austria, France, and Spain became impossible. She had nothing to gain by it, and there were no bounds to her contempt for that 'hydra with 1200 heads,' the Assembly; for a King who allowed laws to be dictated to 72 Sorel's ' Europe and the French Revolution ' him; for a nobility which abdicated its privileges; or for a bourgeoisie which presumed to meddle with State affairs. She had no dread of the revolutionary propaganda in her own dominions. A simple order of police sufficed to silence the few freemasons who represented, in her states, the only element of an agitation resembling that which existed in France. Nevertheless, the French colony hi Russia was placed under strict supervision, while for natives with democratic sympathies there was the knout or the galleys. Her favourite prescription for France may well excite a smile. It was the recall of the Jesuits ! Such was the advice of this disciple of the philosophers, whom Voltaire placed in the ranks of the gods, and whom Diderot desired for a French sovereign ! She showed herself ultra-royalist as to French affairs, and admitted no system but that of a thorough counter-revolution. Yet she had nothing but sarcasms for the agonies and weaknesses of the royal prisoners of the Tuileries, and only replied by railleries to prayers for the help of her Cossacks in effecting their deliverance. Her passions and those of Gustavus in. led them both to combat the Revolution. But her exclusive devotion to her own interest hindered her from taking any active or costly part in. that combat, which the quixotic Gustavus was ready enough to do. Meanwhile, France being weakened and- discredited, the attention of Europe was fixed upon the East. During 1789 and the greater part of 1790, Europe abandoned France to her own courses and her in- ternal disorders. Thus, says M. Sorel, 'the Revolution went its way, and old Europe went hers, and for nearly two years persisted in mistaking and under-estimating the powers and real tendencies of the Revolution.' Our own country presented a strange and gratifying contrast to what was elsewhere to be met with. No con- trast, indeed, could well be greater than that which then Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution' 73 existed between France and England. In the former country the struggle was against the still privileged relics of what had been an aggressive and oppressive feudality, while the tiers etat had traditionally worked with the king against the nobility. In England it was the ' gentry ' which formed the essence of the nation, and the people had joined with them in many a struggle against an oppressive monarchy. Everything had conspired in France to pro- duce a unity of power; in England, a diversity. The English had no need to fear invasion, while in France it was the one dread which constantly dominated all domestic disputes. There was ever a danger there lest some foreign Power should avail itself of civil discords in order to invade and dominate. Thus it was often needful to patch up matters in hot haste, the desire for national independence overpowering that for political free- dom. But in a monarchy so circumstanced, much is demanded of its monarch. France willingly abdicated its political rights, but not its critical judgment. This Henry iv. well understood. With Louis xiv. royalty in France culminated and entered on its decline. He left behind him a nation crushed by war, and impatient of a yoke which was felt to be ruinous. Things had come to such a crisis that either a really great king or a revolu- tionary cataclysm was inevitable. If it did not burst forth in the reign of Louis xv., it was because France still re- mained profoundly royalist in sentiment, and was full of hope as to the possibilities of a new reign. M. Sorel shows much intelligent appreciation of England. ' The English had a political interest which was absolutely wanting in France ; they possessed a constitution and liberal traditions. The ancien regime, which in France had founded a caste of nobles, developed in England a true aristocracy. That aristocracy only retained such privileges as its public services made reasonable, and it valued and gloried in its political functions. It was willing to pay 74 S Orel's 'Europe and the French Revolution* liberally for its position, and bore its burden of taxation. In France men had become more and more alike, while they differed widely as to their privileges, and that difference was the less endurable to the unprivileged because they felt themselves to be in all essentials the equals of the noblesse. In England the possession of common rights before the law made men indifferent concerning diversities of social condition. Feeling themselves free, they were the less anxious to appear equal Moreover, the English aristocracy was a very open one.' (Vol. i. p. 353.) Irreligion also, in England, was, as our author says, but a fashion of the day, and an affectation of the beau monde. In France it was a general and dominant passion which extended even to the lowest classes. Fanaticism in England was sectarian, and all the sects made common cause against infidelity, so that the French Revolution found all of them almost equally hostile. As to the few who made a public profession of unbelief, experience of what was going on in France gave them much matter for reflection, and sup- plied them with grave reasons for distrusting even some of their own principles. Irreligion passed out of fashion, and scepticism itself fell a victim to the critical and sceptical spirit. Almost the whole English nation became for a time more or less strongly conservative. Turbulent as the people might be, they loved their constitution, and though there was much commotion about 'reform,' it was relatively but very small changes which any one desired. ' While,' says M. Sorel, ' the French despised their government, detested their clergy, hated their noblesse, and rebelled against the laws, the English were proud of their religion, their constitution, their King and their House of Lords. . . . Just as in the middle ages the people joined with the barons to combat the royal prerogative, so now the people united with the aristocracy to defend their King and constitution against the Revolution. In this England was only faith- ful to the tradition of its history, and the anti-Jacobin war was a thoroughly national war. England was the one only Power the French Revolution had to fear, because it was the one only Power Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 75 which combated it with its own weapons national sentiment and popular passion. ... If the English made so great a figure in that crisis wherein Europe appeared so contemptible, the reason was they justified that judgment which Montesquieu had so long before passed upon them : " It is the one people which best understands how to avail itself of three great influences religion, commerce, and liberty." ' (Vol. i. p. 358.) When disorder broke out in France, George in. and Pitt saw with some natural satisfaction the apparently rapid decay of a State which had done so much harm to England in her war with her North American colonies. Nevertheless, the King was deeply offended at the dis- respect which was soon shown to royalty in France a sentiment which was by no means uninfluential in the promotion of that dogged resistance to which the French had ultimately to succumb. Following M. de Tocqueville, M. Sorel points out that it was by no means because abuses were worse in France than in other European countries that the new modern move- ment culminated there and first exploded in political con- vulsion. In other nations feudal dues were more oppres- sive, governments less intelligent, and the mass of the people in far greater misery. The Revolution, which finally put an end to so many mediaeval ways and institutions, commenced in that very country where they were most rapidly disappearing of themselves. Their weight appeared the more insupportable to the French because they were less heavy, and their effects were felt to be exasperating because they were no longer crushing. Serfdom was quite extinct save in a few districts bordering on Germany. Not only was the peasant no longer a serf he was a proprietor, and the land in very many districts was already subdivided to excess. 'The very prosperity of the early part of Louis xvi.'s reign hurried on the movement, causing men to feel more keenly such 7 6 Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' vexations as remained, and to desire more ardently to rid themselves of them. France was the country wherein ideas of reform were the most widely spread, minds were the most cultivated, men were the most alike, the government was the most centralised, the nobility were the most politically reduced to insignificance, the corporate bodies were the most subjected to control, and the nation was the most homogeneous.' (Vol. i. p. 145.) The very fact that so much practical equality between men of different classes already existed rendered the privi- leges of the small minority the more odious. Civil liberty had entered into the manners and customs of the French, and it was this which made them so much desire that such liberty should have the sanction of the laws. Political free- dom, on the other hand, was an innovation, and contrary to all precedent. Nothing less was required than an entire change in the habits and instincts of the people to cause such freedom to be understood and practised. Since all were equally without any practical experience of liberty, each formed his own abstract idea of it, and imagined that nothing more was required to ensure it than the destruction of the already decaying ancient institutions of the country. Hence anarchy became almost inevitable. It was not so much the Revolution which destroyed the government as it was the spontaneous collapse of the government which caused the Revolution to triumph. The government of France had grown strong together with the monarchy which had formed the nation, and its power depended on the personal character of the King. ' The French,' said Cardinal Richelieu, ' are capable of anything, provided that those who command them are capable of directing them. I do not hesitate to affirm that if your Majesty will find leaders worthy to command them, there will be no lack of subjects willing to obey.' Such being the general condition and antecedents of Sorefs 'Europe and the French Revolution ' j 7 France and the countries which environed it, the latter were utterly taken by surprise by the Revolution, which they entirely misunderstood, and therefore combated much too late for their own interests and with most inadequate measures. Prussia, with the first army in Europe, was kept in check by the vaciUations of its sovereign and the jealousies of its subsequent allies. Russia, full of designs first against Turkey and afterwards against Poland, only sought in European crises means for its own aggrandise- ment. Austria, always tempted to great enterprises and always hesitating to execute them, was divided between the hope of exchanging Belgium for Bavaria, and of defeating, or profiting by, the action of Russia in Poland. Europe took the French Revolution to be a mere political crisis such as had often happened before. It recurred to the precedents suggested by such actions as those of Mazarin and Louis xiv. towards the English disorders, and sought nothing but means to profit by the crisis. It was long before it awoke from its error, and even then only assembled incoherent armies, and was divided before hos- tilities commenced by disputes about the prizes of victory. The monarchs who invaded France opposed what they termed the rights of sovereigns to the rights of the people, but they interpreted the former according to the tradi- tions of centuries of covetous rivalries and jealous con- flicts. Meanwhile the spirit of nascent liberalism, so widely diffused in Europe, caused the first impressions produced on surrounding nations by the movement to be, on the whole, favourable. On the taking of the Bastille, the Duke of Dorset wrote home to the effect that we might now regard France as a free country, with a king limited in power and a nobility reduced to the general level of the nation. In Germany, many advanced thinkers considered that the French Revolution was at last the realisation of an ideal 78 Sore 'I 's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' they had pursued as followers of Pufiendorf and Wolf. It was acclaimed with enthusiasm by the traveller and naturalist, George Forster, librarian at Mainz, and. by Kant and William Humboldt. Varnhagen von Ense told how his sisters mounted a tricoloured scarf, and how his father went to Strasburg to take the civic oath and serve on the national guard. Klopstock exclaimed, 'Why have I not a hundred voices to celebrate French liberty ? ' The Suabian poet Schubert, who had been imprisoned ten years for sedi- tious writings, was set free in 1787, and devoted his powers to the propagation of French ideas. At Weimar the older men, thoroughly penetrated with the eighteenth century spirit such as Wieland and Herder showed themselves more sympathetic than some of their juniors, especially Goethe, who became by degrees detached from Rousseau, and hostile to French disorder. On the left bank of the Rhine, according to our author, a democratic spirit showed itself, especially in the ecclesiastical principalities. Papers were circulated with the words, ' We desire to be free from the yoke of the monks,' and several convents were attacked pud their inmates dispersed. In the bishopric of Liege there was a complete revolution. The Bishop refused, on demand, to convoke the States, whereupon the inhabitants of Spa drove out the episcopal garrison, and the bishop, alarmed by disorders at Liege, took refuge at Trier. The same influence caused in different places strangely different results. Thus, as we have seen, it gave rise in Belgium to a revolt in support of clericalism, while in Hungary there was an aristocratic agitation, and in Poland a monarchical one. Not only did the lofty designs and declarations of the National Assembly 1 attract the sympathy and admira- 1 Such as the decree voted by it with enthusiasm in 1790 : ' The French nation renounces all wars of conquest, and will never employ its forces against the liberty of any people.' S or el's ''Europe and the French Revolution ' 79 tion of neighbouring peoples, but the powerlessness of the government reassured cabinets which viewed with satisfac- tion the apparent total collapse of French power. The Emperor's brother had more foresight than most of his contemporaries. 'If,' said he, 1 'all that becomes firmly established, then France will become the most powerful State in Europe.' All the signs of anarchy and of discredit to the French State were greedily collected by Prussian agents, and acrimoniously commented on by the court of the devout royal bigamist of Berlin, who deemed that the French power was paralysed for a long time and to a greater degree than he had ever dared to hope. In the eastern provinces of France grave disputes were caused by the feudal and ecclesiastical rights of certain German Powers, which rights had been guaranteed to them by treaties under Louis xiv. The German princes, especially those of the Rhine, began to clamour vigorously for the maintenance of their feudal rights. Disputes also arose with the Bishops of Speyer, Trier, Liege, and Basle, to whom the treaty of 1648 had preserved certain rights of ecclesiastical jurisdic- tion in French territory, rights practically abolished by the decrees concerning the civil constitution of the clergy. Troubled in their leisure, menaced as to then* property, and excited by the influence of the French emigres, these ordinarily pusillanimous princes became violent in their hostility and vehement in their declarations. The Bishop of Speyer refused to enter into any negotiations, and the Prince Bishop of Kb'ln threatened to place a cordon of troops along the French frontier, to prohibit the entrance of French goods into his territories, to sequestrate the goods of French- men, and to punish the agents of the revolutionary propa- ganda. The Elector of Mainz demanded the abrogation of the obnoxious French decrees, while the Bishop of Trier appealed 1 Letter of June 4, 1789, to Marie Christine. 8o Sorel' s 'Europe and the French Revolution ' for support even to schismatical Russia. The Austrian minister, Kaunitz, was the representative of a special form of opposition to the dominant French movement. His was not a hatred like that of the emigres, nor that which drew forth the anathemas of Burke ; it was a protest on the part of ' enlightened despotism ' against democratic enthusi- asm, a cry of alarm from the aristocratic disciples of Voltaire aroused by the invasion of the disciples of Rousseau. With such discordant elements mixed up in the incipient coalition against the French Revolution, any honest and sustained efforts in support of an ideal political system were impossible. The hope of plundering France insinuated itself into minds which were at first mainly actuated by a desire to combat the Revolution. Before even the ' Holy Alliance ' of 1792 was concluded, before even it was negotiated when it only existed as a distant conception the vice which was destined to paralyse its development already corrupted its germ. It was born of intrigue, was nursed in covetousness, and was destined to perish through the mutual treachery of its members. The Europe of the eighteenth century was in fact incapable of otherwise conceiving of or conducting a 'league for the public good.' It could only be called a 'crusade' ironically 'a crusade without faith, without apostles, and without knights.' The allies had magazines, arsenals, skilful organisation, discipline, and supplies, but they lacked that eager and animating spirit of patriotism which made up to France her many material deficiencies. But had all the allies been animated perseveringly with the very best spirit and intentions, it is questionable whether the weakness and irresolution of the French monarch would not hi any case have frustrated their efforts. M. Sorel very clearly and forcibly, but with calm moderation, portrays the characteristics, both good and bad, of that most unfortunate SoreFs 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 8 1 sovereign. Endowed with many qualities which, in pro- sperous times, would make a ruler popular, Louis xvi. had none of those which are necessary to found or rejuvenate a dynasty amidst the agitations of political trouble. He was both slow and irresolute in the extreme ; he was modest, heavy, and resigned. His brother, the Count de Provence, declared: 1 'The weakness* and indecision of the King are inexpressible. Imagine trying to hold together ivory balls dipped in oil.' He allowed acts to be committed and events to pass by, through indifferent optimism and distrust in himself and others. Full of aspirations after what was best, he was incapable of following up a resolution, and was always prone to recede from it through apathy or con- scientious scruples. It was his conscience above all which was more effective in making him take such action as he did take. After signing the decrees for the civil constitution of the clergy, he exclaimed, 'I would rather be King of Metz than remain King of France in such a position.' It was this conscientiousness which made it impossible for him to avail himself of the foresight and talents of those who would, if they could, have made him a powerful and popular revolutionary king. While the contemptuous indifference of Europe allowed France, in 1789 and 1790, leisure to define and apply the policy which suited her new principles, Louis xvi. was incapable of applying them to his own profit. Mirabeau saw clearly how the King could do so, and worked hard to bring about those acts and measures which sub- sequent history shows us might have been an easy task for a sovereign more intellectual, more vigorous, and less scrupu- lous. M. Sorel remarks that 'in 1790, neither the King nor the Assembly was able to understand Mirabeau's views. The King was too narrow-minded, the Assembly too chimerical. Both, at the same time, had too little political 1 Bacourt's Mirabeau et Lamarque, vol. i. p. 125. VOL. I. F 82 SoreFs ' Europe and the French Revolution ' insight and too much virtue to give themselves up to the hands of such an operator. To arrive at that which he planned, it would have been necessary to anticipate ten years of history and what a history ! Mirabeau, if he had been understood, appreciated, and seconded, might have done this, and for a moment he seemed called on to do it, but fate arrested his career in what, under such a king, was the pur- suit of a chimera. In spite of his conscientious scruples, however, Louis xvi. could be fatally insincere.' He was, as it were, conscientiously insincere from his inherited and acquired views concerning royalty, due pro- bably to defects in his religious education. He considered that kings had no rule but what they deemed the good of the State ; that they held their power from God alone, and had only to obey their own consciences. When he found himself constrained by circumstances to appear to reign according to the new system, he mentally held tenaciously to the old one. This sort of mental reserva- tion and equivocation permitted him to sign anything with- out feeling himself really thereby bound. He gave way at first by simple inertia, or through imprudence; but at last through a deliberate calculation. Thus he passed insensibly from one equivocation to another till he reached those deplorable enterprises which decided the catastrophe of the monarchy and the ruin of the royal family. After his arrest at Varennes, Louis xvi., who had left Paris as a fugitive, only returned as a hostage. Captives in the Tuileries, the royal family had but one thought the thought of all captives their liberty. During that period their history was made up of one perpetual plot for their deliver- ance. A characteristic incident took place on his acceptance of the constitution of 1791 : ' The King went to the Assembly to swear to the law which he had sanctioned. The arrangements for the ceremony were in conformity with the new principles. There was no throne upon the dais, but only an ordinary armchair, placed at the left-hand of the president's SoreFs 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 83 chair. The King came forward in front of his seat, the deputies standing uncovered. The King, also standing and uncovered, began to pronounce the formula of the oath, when the deputies seated them- selves, and put on their hats. The King did not expect this ; he hesitated an instant, became very pale, and sat down suddenly, finish- ing his oath in a troubled voice. The applause and cries of " Vive le Roi ! " which followed consoled him neither for his own awkwardness, which he felt had lowered him, nor for the action of the Assembly, in which he saw only an outrage on himself. He returned to the Tuileries more moved by that silent manifestation of national sovereignty than he had been by all the howlings and violence of the mob. That revolution in etiquette seemed to have revealed to him the depth of the French Revolution, and the abyss into which he had fallen.' * On September 18, 1781, Louis xvi. notified to foreign sovereigns the establishment of the constitution, and by a public letter disowned the acts of his royal brothers. ' But while before the public he held this very prudent language and took all these constitutional steps, his secret agents everywhere contradicted his official declarations. The latter, they said, were but vain formalities, the result of necessity. Europe should consider them as nil, and see nothing in them beyond an expedient for putting the factions to sleep till the day should come when foreign intervention would compel them to submit.' A sincere devotion on the part of those who called them- selves his allies, a loyal obedience on the part of those who proclaimed themselves his partisans, alone could have diminished the peril of an enterprise in which Louis xvi. was led by the force of circumstances and the weakness of his own character. But, unhappily for him, the kings his allies were interested in professing to believe his official declarations in order not to have to succour him, while his brothers judged it useful to betray his secret in order to 1 Memoirs of Madame de Campan, vol. ii. ch. xiv. 84 Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' force Europe to come to his assistance. The result was that Europe put off that congress, the meeting of which the dmigrds approved, and Louis xvi. became discredited in France, as an accomplice of foreign Powers, at the very moment that the latter abandoned him. He thus lost that confidence on the part of his people which was neces- sary in order that the proposed congress should have the results which he expected from it. Later on, in June 1792, the same tergiversation was carried yet further. The sinister crisis approached. 'The servants of the King trembled for his life. Neither the manifestations demanded and dictated by his ministers, nor the decrees imposed by the Assembly, nor the oaths exacted on pain of deposition, were any longer a trial to Louis xvi. The force which exacted them rendered them all alike illicit and nil in his eyes, and seemed to him to absolve his mendacity. In the midst of his most anxious and zealous efforts to bring about foreign intervention in his favour, he announced to the deputies his declaration of war against the King of Prussia. "I count," said he, "upon the union and courage of all Frenchmen to combat and drive back the enemies of the country and of liberty." On July 14 he did not hesitate to repair to the fete of the federation, there to renew publicly his con- stitutional oath.' The royal family went in state for the last time. As Madame de Stael tells us, * ' The expression of the Queen's face will never leave my memory. Her eyes were sunk and worn with weeping, and the splendour of her toilette and the dignity of her carriage contrasted strangely with those about her. . . . The King went on foot to the altar in the Champ de Mars. From that day the people never saw him till he mounted the scaffold.' M. Sorel gives, we think, a very fair estimate of the character of the Queen : ' Marie Antoinette was in no way a woman fitted for affairs of State. She was simply a woman. That was her charm and her 1 Considerations sur la Revolution Franfaise, vol. i. p. 381. S or el's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 85 misfortune. There was no trace in her of the genius of her mother, Maria Theresa. She was simply a young Viennese princess. Fond of pleasure, and sympathetic, she was too proud of her rank and birth and too disdainful of the opinions of the world, to sacrifice to them even a trifling caprice. Frivolous, but little educated and never reading, difficult to advise and impatient of schooling, which bored her, she judged of policies by persons, and of persons by the opinions of coteries. With little judgment she had plenty of courage, but her valour was apt to dissipate itself in anger or tears. Her heart, nevertheless, was noble, and honour was with her a passion. When the dignity of the crown seemed compromised or lowered when it was outraged amidst provocation and insult she hardened herself against attack, and one could then recognise in her the daughter of Maria Theresa.' (Vol. ii. p. 138.) Though only frivolous, she was at first frivolous to excess, and allowed herself a freedom which the Court never pardoned neglect of etiquette. The follies of Trianon, which would have delighted the respectful good-nature of the Viennese, scandalised the Parisians, who were ready to pardon anything except the sin of not seeming to believe they meant what they said. Painful to and fatal for her was the hostility, so early developed, of the King's brother, the Count de Provence. This hostility outraged one of the strongest instincts of her nature when the Count aspired to assume the title of Regent amongst the emigres. After the unhappy flight to Varennes, ' these pretensions of " monsieur " to the regency even aroused for a moment her husband from his torpor. He endured the Eevolution as a sort of malady he could not understand. But in the intrigues of his brothers and their counsellors he detected both ambition and perfidy. ... He formally disowned and protested against this regency, and the queen eagerly supported him, for the Count de Provence's action troubled her in the only hope which animated her namely, the happiness and future glory of her son. " If," said she, " the emigres should, against all expectation, succeed, we should fall into a new slavery worse than the other. Nothing with them nor for 86 Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' them the emperor must insist on this ; it is the only way in which he can do us and especially me a service. The cowards ! after having abandoned us, they desire that we alone should run risks to serve their interests." ' In spite of all her efforts the brothers would not yield, and the distress this caused at the Tuileries was all the greater because the insubordination of these princes caused the most distressing family dissensions. Madame Elisabeth had not, like the King and Queen, been astonished and revolted by the conduct of her brothers. On the contrary, she thought them in the right, and surrounded herself with their emissaries. ' Our home is a perfect hell,' wrote Marie Antoinette; 1 'one cannot speak, and there is nothing but quarrelling all day long.' But the King did not sufficiently support his wife, and his invincible repugnance to any sustained thought was destined to paralyse him in the end. Her courage did not fail, and to relieve the pain caused her by the dissimulation she was forced to practise, she occasionally found satisfaction in giving free vent to her real sentiments. 'What a pleasure it will be,' she once exclaimed, 'if I can one day make evident to all these ruffians that I was never really their dupe ! ' She became plainly guilty of treason to the nation : 'For a long time (in 1792) she had seen in the ministry the Assembly and the revolutionary part of the nation nothing more than criminals, against whom all arms were legitimate. Maternal affection sustained her royal pride, and the feelings of her heart sup- ported her policy. Thus she made no scruple of spying into the secrets of her adversaries and betraying their plans to the enemies of France. In her eyes the King was France, and her business was to save him and her children and restore his power. Louis had no secrets from her, and she had no secrets from her allies. Everything she could find out about the conduct of the war she communicated to Montmorin, Fersen, and Mercy.' 1 Letter to Fersen of October 31, t. i. p. 207. SoreT s 'Europe and the French Revolution ' 8 7 The royal intrigues only ended at last in a deplorable conflict of projects which destroyed each other. There was a too passionate queen, an apathetic king, at once the victim of the fears of his countrymen and the unscrupulous covetousness of foreign Powers. There were to be seen at the foreign courts, M. Sorel tells us, agents declaring on the part of the French ministry that the King desired their complete neutrality, while others, agents of the King him- self, declared that no attention was to be paid to what the ministry said. There were also the emissaries of the emigrant princes, who protested that the King was not free, and that those who spoke in his name were not to be trusted in the least. Such was the deplorable confusion, the sad tergiversation, and the helpless and hopeless abyss of fatal disaster into which circumstances had led an amiable and, on the whole, estimable woman and one of the best-intentioned of men. Of them M. Sorel says with truth that ' they were born to reign far from storms upon some modest throne of Germany or Italy, where they would have made their subjects happy and been happy themselves. In France where, by a singular contrast, the people, insubordinate, turbulent, and appar- ently frivolous, never attach themselves to any but strong kings and austere queens they had nothing to do but to die.' (Vol. ii. p. 134.) Meantime, while the immense majority of the French nation, thoroughly impregnated with the revolutionary spirit, were rapidly developing towards what we know as modern France, a curious survival of old France continued to exist external to it. The emigration of 1790 was, in fact, as M. Sorel says, the ancien regime surviving its fall, and damning itself irretrievably. France, he tells us, had banished it, and it tried to reconstitute itself on the frontier, and then advance to the reconquest of France. Most of the emigres had taken refuge at Coblentz, Mainz, 88 S Orel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' or Worms. It had become the fashion to emigrate, and those who went were fully convinced that they would very soon return in triumph. The ecclesiastical princes of the Rhine, especially the Elector of Mainz, received them mag- nificently. According to the account of one of these Emigres, 1 'his court was brilliant, and I was constantly invited to dine and sup, not only at ceremonious banquets, but also in the most private society of the Elector, at the houses of Madame F. and Madame G., who were, as was whispered, his two "ministers."' Coblentz also, under the Elector of Trier, was a place of fashionable reunion. The dmigrds had but one passionate desire the counter-revolu- tion and were as fanatical in their way as were the Jacobins themselves. At Coblentz, 'Monsieur' (the Count de Provence) had his maitresse en titre, who was one of his wife's maids of honour. It was in her drawing-room that the Count held his court, seated by the fireplace, indulging his taste for refined wit. The emigrant camp at Worms, though it exhibited all the defects of the old French army, was greatly superior in tone to the court at Coblentz. Though plenty of folly was to be found there, it was at least a thoroughly sincere folly, where each man was pre- pared to shed his blood for the cause he had at heart. Every one there also was devoted to their commander, Conde, who in the episcopal palace made a great parade of his mistress, Madame de Monaco. The emigre's showed but little respect for the King even before his arrest at Varennes. After that they showed him none. In their eyes the monarchy was of more account than the King, and the noblesse of more account than the monarchy. Under the title of ' Union des Provinces,' they formed a sort of league, which became disseminated all over France. If they had succeeded in re-establishing royalty, they would have liked 1 The Baron d'Escars. See Geoffrey's Oustave III., vol. ii. p. 152. Sorer s 'Europe and the French 'Revolution ' 89 to treat it as Guise treated the Valois. The King would have been head of the league only in order that he might obey it. They wished that he should reign indeed, but that the nobility should govern. While waiting thus to bring about the subjection of Louis xvi., they insulted him, calling him 'the poor man' or 'the imbecile.' It was the courtiers of 'Monsieur' who brought the use of these expressions into fashion. The Emigres sought eagerly the support of Austria, though they had little love for and much dread of that Power. What they most feared and detested of all, how- ever, was 'constitutional government.' 'The worst of all evils would be,' they said, 1 ' to receive a constitution at the hands of Austria. ... It would be far better to lose a whole province than to have a constitution.' There was a remarkable resemblance, as M. Sorel points out, between the French Emigres and the Polish aristocrats. The former placed their privileges above the King's life, the latter made their privileges the most important of all State affairs. The French Emigres, taking refuge in the States of an hereditary enemy of their country, solicited and obtained help from that enemy to try and regain their privileges and the supremacy of their faction. The confederates of Targowitz similarly allied themselves with the Russians to destroy the Polish constitution of May 3. The emigres desired the re-establishment of all their privileges, and to undo the whole beneficent work of the constituent assembly. They desired also to effect all this by the most unscrupulous violence, and by striking terror into the supporters of the French government. The impotence of the partisans of the ancien regime to understand or to lessen the evils of the Revolution left them no resource but to endeavour to crush it. No one repudiated the use of the most extreme violence and the sinister influence of fear. ' I hold it to be necessary 1 Bombelles and Breteuil, May 8, 1792. See Fersen, vol. ii. p. 267. 90 Sorel' s 'Europe and the French Revolution ' to strike terror into the Parisians,' said Montmorin. 1 ' Fear will drive the Assembly along the road it at present follows, till another fear propels it in the contrary direction. Depend upon it, those men are to be acted on by nothing but terror.' The royalist manifesto of July 25, 1792, declared that the allied Powers * will treat as enemies and punish as rebels such national guards as may resist them, and will burn down and destroy the houses of, and treat with the utmost rigour, all those who dare to offer opposition. . . . The inhabitants of Paris are summoned to submit to the King forthwith, and the members of the National Assembly will have to answer with their heads for whatever may take place. The smallest outrage on the royal family is to be punished with exemplary vengeance, and Paris delivered over to military execution and com- plete destruction.' At Coblentz the Emigres declared that this manifesto should be executed to the letter, and talked of nothing but subjugation and extermination. A minister of Gustavus in. declared that it was absolutely necessary to annihilate that den of assassins, ' for as long as Paris exists there will never be kings.' Under these circumstances the French populace might well be alarmed. They held with much truth that ' the King was apathetic and dominated by others, the Queen hostile, the nobility implacable, and that Austria was an enemy.' It was not very likely that the French people could be made to believe that 100,000 Germans would invade France, animated with no desire but that of establish- ing there a temperate monarchy and astonishing the world by their disinterestedness ; that a king restored by foreigners to the plenitude of his power would only make use of it in order to effect constitutional reforms ; that the Queen would only employ Austrian troops to regain her legitimate influence ; or that the dmigrfe, when triumphantly restored, 1 Letter to Lamarque, July 13, 1792. Sorel's ''Europe and the French Revolution ' 91 would humbly obey those laws against which they were constantly declaiming with so much violence, and would forget their privileges, or would be promptly constrained to obedience by the King should they exhibit any disposi- tion to oppose constitutional liberalism. These things it was evidently impossible for them to believe. The revolu- tionists, on the contrary, expected fresh dragonnades and a new St. Bartholomew from their triumphant adversaries, and, expecting this, were not unwilling to be beforehand in the matter. This natural alarm might be taken as a sufficient reason for the 'terror,' and as affording some palliation even for its excesses. But this M. Sorel does not by any means allow. The alarm had, no doubt, its effect in hastening on and intensifying the terror; but that por- tentous phenomenon was really due to other and anterior causes. Our author tells us 'that army of anarchy was already collected together and well exercised, even before the elections of 1789. It had its recognised chiefs, who soon got a name in insurrections.' From the beginning their aid was sought, first by one and then by another party, as each successively ousted its predecessor. But their leaders were ever at the mercy of the lower grades of anarchists, who composed their army, and who continually cried out for pay, and soon began to try and make practical and real that 'reign of the people' which had been con- tinually held out to them as a bait, but which, as they advanced, continually receded from their grasp. The only way to hold such men in hand was to be ever ready to make new denunciations and fresh revelations of treason to put before them new obstacles to overcome and destroy, and thus continually to augment their frenzy. This im- pulse, which we may detect from the very commencement of the Revolution, necessarily led to the reign of the most fanatical, the most violent, and the most unscrupulous. 92 Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' It was the inevitable lot of the leaders to be successively overwhelmed by the torrent which bore them along. ' The apologists of the terror and what tyranny has not found its apologists ? have presented it to us,' says M. Sorel, ' as the necessary consequence of the war, and as a sort of superhuman effort, made by certain colossal minds, for the salvation of the country. . . . But the terror was no real novelty. To dominate men by fear has been at all times a favourite expedient of gross and barbarous despotisms.' The leaders of the Revolution had recourse to it because they desired to remain in power, and they could not sustain themselves in power without it. They really made use of it for their own interests, and then pretended that it was for the salvation of the State. Moreover, the attempt to make use of ' terror ' was not an expedient peculiar to the revolu- tionists, for their adversaries, as we have seen, did the very same thing for analogous reasons. M. Sorel's two volumes bring us down to the opening of the war between Europe and the French revolutionary government. At that moment took place the last solemn manifestation of old Europe and of such Teutonic mediseval- ism as survived towards the close of the eighteenth century. During the agony of the French monarchy the German courts were en fete. The Holy Roman Empire, at the very moment when it was beginning a war in which it was destined to perish, shone out with an expiring flame. On July 5, 1792, Francis was elected Emperor; on the 14th he made his solemn entry into Frankfort. The ceremony recalled to men's minds recollections of the most prosperous imperial coronations. The ecclesiastical Electors fulfilled, for the last time, their venerable functions according to the rite prescribed by the golden bull. The last of the long series of Holy Roman Emperors appeared with his mediaeval surroundings amidst the representatives of Europe, and Sorel' s l Europe and the French Revohition ' 93 before the people, who acclaimed him with enthusiasm. On the very same day the last king of the old French monarchy took, on the Champ de Mars, as a sort of public penance, the oath which hi his mouth was equivalent to an abdication. That evening, when all was agony and humilia- tion at the Tuileries, there was at Frankfort nothing but illuminations and endless trains of carriages filled with the guests invited to the splendid fete which Count Esterhazy, electoral ambassador to the crown of Bohemia, offered to his sovereign. The Count Clement Metternich opened the ball with a young princess of Mecklenburg, whose grace, beauty, and vivacity excited general admiration. She was the future Queen Louisa of Prussia, one of the most noble and touching victims of the war which then commenced. At supper were assembled around the imperial family and the princes all the greatest of the German nobility. Who could then have suspected that the magnificent banquet was in fact a funeral repast, and that the Holy Roman Empire itself had but a few miserable years to live ? Little did any one then present imagine that the Queen of France, whom they boasted of being about to rescue, would in a few months perish on the scaffold ; that the army of sans- culottes, which they talked of driving before them with their whips, would rout all their forces, and that from out of its ranks would arise a Csesar of whom they would all in turn become allies, clients, or tributaries, and to whom the just-crowned Emperor would gladly accord the hand of his daughter in marriage ! The King of Prussia had promised to meet the Emperor at Mainz, and his journey was a sort of triumphal march. The Prince Archbishop Elector of Mainz made it a point of honour to display all his luxury and magnificence, and all Germany hastened to avail itself of his hospitality. From the 19th to the 21st of July the sovereigns of Austria and 94 Sorel's 'Europe and the French Revolution ' Prussia, the young Francis, and the stately, urbane, and gigantic Frederick William, lodged in his palace. Fifty princes, a hundred counts and barons, made for them a military and feudal court. The French princes, august courtiers of these warriors armed in their quarrel, appeared, followed by a train of dmigrds. The city was full of officers and gentlemen in gala costume, and resounded with mili- tary preparations and social festivities. The German nobility presented a magnificent spectacle, not again to appear till fifteen years later, and then in a strangely different fashion. But the tale of that future is reserved by M. Sorel for his subsequent volumes. His work at present ends with that moment of tragic suspense at Paris, and of mistaken elation in Germany, which marked the fatally eventful outbreak of the great revolutionary war. From the interest of what M. Sorel has already published, we look forward with a very confident anticipation of pleasure and profit to other volumes of his, the appearance of which we trust will not be long delayed. MEMOIRS OF A ROYALIST. Memoires d'un Boyaliste. Par le COMTE DE FALLOUX. 2 vols. Paris, 1888. IN these Memoirs we have the candid record of the feelings, thoughts, and experiences of a man evidently loyal and honest, and of a limpid transparency of character. Count de Falloux was a thorough Frenchman ; unlike his friend Monta- lembert, he had no English blood in his veins. Yet he possessed, in quite an exceptional degree, those characteristics which Englishmen most admire. Untiring in his fidelity, he tempered his zeal with prudence. His conservatism was progressive and intelligent. His philanthropy was replete with common-sense, and eminently practical, and his religious sentiments, though necessarily divergent from those of most Englishmen, were manly and sincere. His zeal for the Church never led him to sanction or desire an act of bigotry and intolerance, and his devotion to the Comte de Chambord never restrained him from opposing various acts of that prince, and of his friends, with a vigour which the circumstances of his parentage and early education make the more noteworthy. Over and above the interest which these memoirs possess as the picture of a noble life, and a peculiarly clear revelation of an estimable phase of French thought and character, they have another special interest and value. For they bring out, with singular clearness, how great is the delusion of those persons who think, with the late Mr. Buckle, that the influence of individuals on the course of history is small. The influence of two men, extremely diver- 96 Memoirs of a Royalist gent in character, acting in opposite ways from most opposite motives, are here shown to have unconsciously concurred in bringing about the same calamitous result. We can recall no character in all past history who so gratuitously ruined his own cause and that of his friends, almost at the very instant of fruition, as did the Cornte de Chambord. He was the main founder of the present French Republic. Its second author was M. Thiers. We read in these pages, with increasing wonder, authentic revelations of the lamentable vanity, weakness, and short- sightedness of the latter. From 1830 to 1880, his defects of character have been most fatal to France, and yet it must be affirmed that, but for the action of the Count de Chambord himself, M. Thiers would have performed an act of self- abnegation which might have gone far to compensate for the errors of his earlier years, and have saved him from the moral degradation which attended the end of his career. We see depicted in these pages how, after the Revolution of 1848 and the disasters of 1870, the most enlightened and patriotic Frenchmen united, with extraordinary unanimity and accord, in an endeavour to found a stable system of free government as we understand it in England and how in each case one or two persons, on whose action all depended, ruined every- thing by their vanity or folly. Every Englishman who reads this book must feel that he has indeed cause to be both grateful to Providence, and proud of his country, which has so long been happily preserved from calamity by the good sense and moderation of most of its politicians, and especially from that combination of opposite extremes which has again and again proved so fatal to the prosperity of France. M. de Falloux was born at Angers on the 7th of May 1811, in a small house near the old family residence, which his parents were not then wealthy enough to dwell in. In summer they dwelt at Bourg d'Ir6, a village in a picturesque Memoirs of a Royalist 97, but most primitive part of Anjou, close to Brittany. His parents had each good cause to detest the French Revolution. His father had emigrated when only fourteen (serving in the Talleyrand-Perigord regiment at Maestricht and Quiberon), and had returned under the Consulate to find but a small part of his fortune left. His mother was the daughter of the Marquis de Soucy, who held a command at Cherbourg when the Due de la Rochefoucauld was planning a retreat there for Louis xvi. The King had said, ' Soucy, I count upon you,' and this had prevented his emigrating, and cost him his life. His wife had been governess to the royal children, and was called to the Temple when the young Princess was exchanged for the Olmutz hostages. Born and brought up as a child in Versailles, she and her mother, the Baroness de Mackau, 1 also refused to emigrate, in order to be near the Queen. They stood by her on the 20th of June, and when violently separated from her on the fatal 10th of August, they retired to Vitry to be still near her. M. de Falloux's paternal grandmother died in prison, in consequence of having received in her house General de la Rochejacquelin. The families of the vicinity were also mostly ardent Royalists. The Vicomte de Turpin was a somewhat eccentric neighbour devoted to a country life. Really pious, but with an affectation of Voltairianism in his conversation, he had been intimate with Louis xvm. when Comte de Provence. After the Restoration he made one journey to Paris, and asked for an audience. No answer coming for a whole day, he repaired to the first gentleman-in-waiting, and begged him to represent 1 A sister of the Baroness had married the Marquis de Bombelles, who had four children by her, and became a priest after her death. He was named Bishop of Amiens at the Restoration, and used to relate how, in 1814, on visiting the Hotel de Roug6, he was asked by an old servant, ' Que dois-je annoncer?' ' Annoncez Feveque d'Amiens et ses enfants.' 'Monsieur, je n'annoncerai jamais cela a Madame la Marquise ! ' Afterwards the Bishop, in introducing his sons, would playfully say, ' Je vous presente les neveux de mon f rere. ' VOL. I. G 98 Memoirs of a Royalist to the King that if he could not have the honour of seeing him that day, he must return to walk with his wife to church on Sunday morning, as it was more than three miles. Louis xviii., much amused, saw him at once, laughingly saying, ' H6 bien ! Mon pauvre Turpin, vous etes done devenu enfant de choeur.' He then asked if he did not want any- thing of the King : ' Sire, vous m'avez accord^ tout ce que je desire, puisque je vous revoir.' Thus M. de Falloux's childhood was passed amongst per- sons who either after having lived at Court had made all sorts of sacrifices for royalty, or who professed or practised the same devotion without even having known Court life, and whose conversation was a reiterated eulogium of either the splendour of Versailles, or the courage and merits of its royal occupants. Young De Falloux began his education at the Lycee of Angers, and while there was greatly taken with pulpit eloquence. He showed some juvenile oratorical talent, and his parents who had inherited a large property from a cousin who died intestate removed him to Paris for study, but under the superintendence of a private tutor from Angers, who sometimes took his pupil to the Theatre Fran$ais, where the dramatic genius of Talma soon caused his love for sermons to yield to a new-born passion for tragedy. So enthusiastic was his admiration for the great actor, that one day he played truant from school to pay a clandestine visit in the Rue Tours-des-Dames, where the tragedian resided. He soon got access to him, but, once in his presence, he could say nothing, and began to cry. Talma spoke to him with extreme gentleness, and when he had drawn forth the con- fession that the boy's one object had been to see him, he said : ' Mon enfant, j'ai re$u beaucoup d'hommages, mais je vous assure que le vdtre me touche tout a fait/ He did not dismiss him till he had made kind inquiries about his studies, and encouraged him to work hard. A little time afterwards, Memoirs of a Royalist 99 having persuaded his mother to leave the theatre as soon as the tragedy had ended, while waiting for their carriage, Talma passed them, and recognising the boy, saluted him, saying, to the astonishment of the mother and the embarrass- ment of the lad : ' Eh bien ! mon petit ami, avez-vous ete content ce soir ?' Confession, reproof, and ready pardon followed, and shortly afterwards Talma died. A few years passed and the days of the Restoration were drawing towards their close. As to the King's fatal friend, the Prince de Polignac, M. de Falloux tells us that nothing was further from his wish or intention than the introduction of a des- potism. His dream was to found a parliamentary aristocracy. He dreamed, unfortunately, other dreams, believing himself to be the recipient of preternatural communications. He had, however, been a friend of M. de Falloux's grandmother before the Revolution, so that there was a family hope and expecta- tion of obtaining an appointment for him in the Foreign Office. The youth had a strong inclination for that career, and eagerly devoted himself to the study of modern lan- guages. The dull Court of Charles X. was just enlivened by the visit of the King and Queen of Naples (the parents of the Duchesse de Berry), who were going to Spain with their daughter Christina, the unhappy great-grandmother of the present child-King. This visit offered young De Falloux his solitary experience of Court splendour, he having been present at a ball given by the Duke of Orleans, and for a few moments even close to the King himself, who was walking on the terrace and rejoicing in the fine weather for his fleet, then on its way to Algiers. The opera of ' La Muette de Portici ' (Masaniello) first appeared at that time, and its lively airs so soon to be popular with Belgian revolutionists were played frequently at Paris as a compliment to the King and Queen of Naples. De Falloux's father was a great sufferer from gout, and on ioo Memoirs of a Royalist that account the party visited the baths of Savoy, and arrived at Chambry on the same day as Charles Felix, King of Sardinia, and his Queen, who gave them an experience of royal simplicity quite patriarchal. Their Majesties readily accorded an audience, receiving them seated in two arm- chairs in the middle of a field ; a torn and faded paper screen being behind that of the Queen because she was suffering from toothache. It was immediately after this visit that the news of the eventful three days of July reached them. Young Falloux begged leave to fly to Anjou and join the insurrection which he fully expected would immediately break out ; but his father restrained his imprudence, though willing to allow him to take any action in obedience to a command from Charles x. A little delay sufficed to convince him that a new epoch had begun in France. ' My intelligence,' he tells x us, ' became convinced before my senti- ment of devotion was ready to bow to it ; and, as soon as I returned to Paris, I associated myself with men who nourished the hope that royalty should have its turn once more.' He took his part, meanwhile, in the ' guerre de salon ' which was immediately declared, and nothing, he tells us, would have induced him to set foot in an Orleanist drawing-room. Nevertheless, the very keenness of his Royalist instinct kept him from making use of the disrespectful nicknames, and from joining in the exaggerated abuse, then common amongst his associates. The ex-King was opposed to any armed effort at restora- tion, and the Duchesse d'Angouleme was piously resigned. As we know, it was quite otherwise with the Duchesse de Berry, whose wild attempt in 1832 finally put an end to the exceptional loyalty of La Vendee. The country was trans- formed and conquered at the same time. The Government of July could not rest content to remain exposed to the 1 Vol. i. p. 45. Memoirs of a Royalist 101 dangers presented by a disaffected province, and careful precautions were taken. The Restoration which was by no means that system of party domination it was accused of being had been rather ungrateful to La- Vendee, which; in spite of its heroic loyalty, had received no exceptional favour. The Princes had scarcely visited it, while its agriculture decayed and its roads were more neglected than in any other part of France. The new Government saw and seized its oppor- tunity. New roads, markets, and all commercial facilities were lavishly provided, and thus an acquiescence in -a new order of things, which neither fire nor sword could obtain, was secured by an increase of local prosperity. When the Duchess was arrested at Nantes, there was found amongst her correspondence violent denunciations of M. Berryer, as to- whom M. de Falloux testifies : ' He was a Eoyalist, not by profession or through any calculation, but from his deepest conviction and with his whole heart and mind. He was the soul of the Legitimist party for forty years, without relaxation or reserve. He would have constituted the greatness and the success of the Eoyal cause, if God had not condemned royalty itself to a total blindness. No one knew better than M. Berryer the suspicion and the calumnies of which he was the object ; but they neither chilled the warmth of his zeal, nor damped the ardour of his courage.' 1 During the imprisonment of the Duchesse de Berry, the, Royalists in Paris wore mourning, abstained from balls, and instituted certain literary reunions in honour of various popular writers. Amongst them figured Eugene Sue, who was then a dandy of the first water, assumed studied attitudes, and what he deemed aristocratic manners. The following winter, however, he became at once the flaming democrat of the ' Mysteres de Paris ' one of the minor consequences of the marriage of the Duchesse de Berry with Count Luchesi, i Vol. i. p. 50. IO2 Memoirs of a Royalist which horrified the Royalists far and wide. At first the announcement met with general disbelief, and was the occa- sion of .not a few . challenges being given and accepted. When the truth no longer admitted of doubt, the irritation of s6me, and tae distress of, others were beyond description. 'The Royalists had been till then spared a trial of that nature. They had maintained their party in spite of defeat, loss of property, and the guillotine. They still maintained it in spite of a more irritating, though less cruel, deception, as the event strikingly proved.' Chateaubriand made it a point of honour to show that his previous opposition had not signified a change of principles, and his trial * was the occasion of De Falloux's introduction to him. To obtain access to the Court he disguised himself as a barrister, and in the midst of the surging crowd vehe- mently applauding Chateaubriand and his advocate Berryer the seeming young avocat found himself, as he was leaving, close to the former, who seized his arm and entreated hun to get him out of the throng and to his carriage. This having been effected in the greatest confusion and with no slight difficulty, and the carriage having driven rapidly away, De Falloux found that he had still in his hand a portfolio of Chateaubriand's papers. Accordingly he called with it the same evening. The great author, who had no knowledge of his name, as soon as he saw his face, advanced holding out both hands and crying out, ' Here, Madame, is the young barrister who rescued me this morning !' His wife greeted him cordially, and thenceforth he was a welcome guest. Chateaubriand seems to have been ready to converse on any subject, but rarely started one himself. M. de Falloux once heard him, out of complaisance to a visitor, converse for a 1 For having published a pamphlet with the title, ' Madame, votre fils est mon roi ! ' words which he had uttered in Louis Philippe's presence. Memoirs of a Royalist 103 full half-hour about the different confectioners of Paris and their various kinds of cakes. It was his wife who gave vivacity to the conversation. She once said, ' M. de Chateau- briand is so silly that, if I was not there, he would never speak ill of anybody.' M. de Falloux having, after the fall of Charles x., no more chance of that he had before anticipated, namely a residence abroad in the character of a diplomatist, determined to travel, and having passed rapidly through Belgium and Holland, went up the Khine to Mayence, and thence to Prague by Frankfort. It was at Prague, in the palace of the Hradschin, that Charles x., the Dauphin and his wife, with the Due de Bordeaux and his sister, resided, with a small number of followers. The little exiled Court (which seemed lost in the innumerable chambers and passages of the vast palace so rarely inhabited and only half furnished) is thus described by M. de Falloux : ' The old King maintained a serene affability ; one felt that events had made no change in him, and that he thought it was impossible to have acted otherwise or more wisely. He received French visitors with pleasure, but without emotion, and one was puzzled whether to regard him as a model of religious resignation or as being naturally indifferent to a fault. The Dauphin was taciturn and melancholy ; and one saw that his respect for his father suppressed the external signs of very severe mental distress. The Duchesse d'Angouleme had, beyond all comparison, the best right to complain of her country ; but it was she who, beyond all comparison, loved it the most. . . . Every evening the King played his game at whist with the Cardinal de Latil, the Due de Blacas, and the Prince Louis de Rohan. A bad player, he often lost his temper ; and I have more than once heard the Due de Blacas reply, " Quand le coup sera fini, Votre Majeste verra si elle a raison. ..." About ten o'clock the King finished his whist, and with a few gracious words, dismissed his little Court. Every one rose ; the Dauphin broke off his game of chess, and his wife folded up her tapestry. At the Hradschin this was called " etiquette " ; but it might also be described as a spon- taneous manifestation of unreserved respect.' ;iO4 Memoirs of a Royalist A considerable division soon arose between the members of this small Court as to the question of adding a Jesuit to the Due de Bordeaux's teachers, and as to the time of his majority and emancipation. The King thereupon took him with him to Burchtiehrad, where M. de Falloux presented himself to take leave on his departure for Vienna, when his first visit was to the ex-King's confidential ambassador, M. de Montbel, x who helped him to make acquaintance with Prince Metternich. He thus describes 2 him in 1830 : ' I was greatly surprised to find the Prince so different from what I had imagined. Always having heard him spoken of at Paris as the representative of retrograde ideas, I had expected to find him old- fashioned in appearance. He was, however, one of the handsomest and most elegant men of his time. He followed the fashion as closely as was consistent with that distinction of manner and appearance he never laid aside. His conversation was, in like manner, thoroughly modern, but thoroughly dignified. ... He very sensibly suited his conversation to my youth, speaking of his own juvenile reminiscences 'with agreeable vivacity. Silvio Pellico's book on his prisons had just appeared, and had excited general attention. I should not, of course have presumed to speak on such a matter myself, but he began the subject, and defended himself, saying, " It is not all false, but it is all exaggerated. I will willingly permit any one to visit the prisons of Venice and Spielberg." I only replied by praising Silvio Pellico, 1 One day he directed his visitor's attention to two men across the street, one of whom was standing motionless while the other was talking. ' Look,' he said, 'depend upon it those are two Germans, and the silent one is waiting for the verb.' 'The remark struck me,' says M. , de Falloux, 'as good, and showing how the German language reflects the German character. Fenelon, analysing the French language, and humorously describing its methodic regularity, said, " First always comes the noun substantive in the nominative case, leading along his adjective by the hand. Close behind walks the verb, followed by an adverb." In German, when the verb comes at the end of the sentence, the very necessity of waiting for it prevents haste and reciprocal interruptions, the interlocutors not being able, as in French, to catch each other's meaning from the first words used. M. de Monfjbel's witty remark served to remind me how necessary it was to guard against the vivacity and natural volubility of my compatriots. ' 2 Vol. i. p. 77. Memoirs of a Royalist 105 whose book I had devoured. " M. Pellico may be a brave and honest man," he rejoined ; " but what he asked was, that Austria should relinquish Italy. Could I possibly propose such a thing as that to the Emperor to please persons who certainly would never enrich Italy as we enrich it daily ? " ' M. de Falloux soon discovered that the aristocracies and sovereign houses of Europe were by no means so warmly Legitimist in their sentiments as he had supposed them necessarily to be. In the drawing-rooms, even of Vienna, he not only heard the conduct of Charles x. very freely commented on, but also political regrets for the death of the Duke of Reichstadt a pacific Napoleon introducing the Austrian system into France, being evidently a favourite idea. -M. de Montbel also introduced M. de Falloux to the Countess Batthyani, a confirmed invalid, who not only never went out, but to whom visitors were not admitted till they had remained long enough in one of two exterior drawing- rooms to be no longer likely to introduce cold air or humidity from without. Her young niece, the Countess Nina Gyrac who shared with her aunt's husband the task of entertaining these visitors in quarantine married M. de Montbel. He showed a strange eccentricity during the ceremony, and on their wedding journey to Prague the bridegroom, with great agitation, began to open and read the letters confided to him by Prince Metternich for the royal exiles, giving vent, at the same time, to incoherent exclama- tions. The bride soon acquired the horrible conviction that she was travelling with a madman. He recovered, but the shock was fatal to his young wife in spite of the maternal kindness of the Duchesse d'Angouleme, who undertook to give the violated letters to the King. M. de Falloux's next visit was to Italy and to Rome under Gregory xvi. the last Pope to receive and transmit intact his temporal power, of whom he says : io6 Memoirs of a Royalist 'He maintained upon the throne the customs and austere simplicity of his Camaldolese cloister. His features were common- place, but intelligent and benevolent. Etiquette was maintained in his antechamber, but dispensed with in his presence, where one knelt as to a father rather than to a sovereign At our last audience we brought so large a basket of rosaries for him to bless, that he laughingly asked how we had got them there. We replied that our servants had carried them up to his very door. " Are they," he asked, "also from your good province of La Vendee 1 then make them come in. I will give my blessing to them at the same time as to you." He had them sent for, and with great affability asked various questions of both the man and his wife, without any apparent consciousness that he was setting an example of that sort of equality which Christianity introduced and of which it is still the only model' There was a great variety in the members of the Sacred College. Amongst them was Cardinal Mastai, the future Pio Nona, of whom Gregory remarked, with an indulgent smile, ' In casa Mastai, anche il gatto e liberale ! ' Another member was the celebrated linguist, Mezzofanti, who was fond of improvising verses. One day, when giving the prizes at the College of the Propaganda, a young Chinaman affecting to translate the Chinese equivalent of his name into Latin, said : ' Hie est qui tacitus virtutes perficit omnes.' To which the Cardinal immediately replied: 'At loquitur semper, perficit ergo nihil.' Amongst the persons he met at Home was M. de Montmorency, who, in spite of his antipathy to all the more modern ideas, had felt, when at Geneva, that family claims bound him to pay a visit to Madame de Stael. She, on receiving him, said : ' I ought to be very grateful to " Corinne," who, no doubt, has occasioned this visit.' ' No, Madame, for I have never read it, and must frankly say I never shall, and wish that others would not either, for I believe there would be much less disorder in the world if romantic literature had never been invented.' Madame de Stael, much astonished, and wishing to administer a gentle rebuke, replied: 'Are there not some gifts given us by God which impose corre- Memoirs of a Royalist 107 spending efforts on our part? Those to whom the gift of imagination has been imparted ought no more to refuse to employ it than you, born a Montmorency, can help being chivalrous and courteous.' Ignoring the sarcasm, the old Marquis rejoined : ' Every comparison is necessarily imperfect ; I cannot help having been born a Montmorency, but those persons whose fingers itch for a pen can refuse to grasp it.' In 1835 M. de Falloux came to England and saw, amongst other distinguished persons, the Duke of Wellington, whose grave natural dignity, he tells us, ' was expressed at once by a peculiar art of shaking hands which some Englishmen possess.' The cordiality of his reception was augmented by the Duke having been sent as a youth to Angers, where, before the ^Revolution, there was a cavalry riding-school with a European reputation, and where, in 1835, his name was to be seen over the door of a small room. He found London, he declares, more astonishing and enormous than attractive ; but as soon as he was outside it, he declares that ' England assumes an unequalled charm. Nothing elsewhere is comparable, not only with English country houses, large and small, and with the shady, winding roads, so different from the inflexible regularity of those of France.' He gave Windsor greatly the preference over Versailles, but nothing delighted him so much as Oxford. After a hasty visit to Scotland, and a pious pilgrimage to Abbotsford, he returned to Grillon's Hotel, where he was introduced to Vicomte de Persigny, an acquaintance which ripened into a warm friend- ship, continued throughout their subsequent, very divergent, careers. De Persigny had surprised him by extreme frankness in expressing his political views. One morning he entered De Falloux's room, saying that unexpected news compelled him to leave suddenly without waiting for money which he expected from France. His luggage, he said, was ample io8 Memoirs of a Royalist security, but he begged M. de Falloux to take charge of a few books and some other things he valued, and bring them with him back to France. Our author immediately placed his purse at his disposal, and begged him to pay his bill and take> all his property with him an offer accepted with cordiality and dignity. 1 1 thought he was gone, but he returned, saying, " I feel so grateful for your kindness ; I must tell you why I have to go. Prince Louis Napoleon, to whom I am entirely devoted, insists on my joining him immediately in Switzerland. Let me beg of you to come with me. You will see for yourself that the future of our country is there ; and I know the Prince well enough to be sure he will do you justice." ..." You know," said I, " that I come from a Province where fidelity to the Royal cause is not to be shaken ; the eagerness of your wish is gratifying, but absolutely impotent to change me." A last effort having convinced him that my determination was invincible, he said, with a certain solemnity of manner : " I respect your sincerity, but I also know your patriotism. Your eyes will be opened hereafter ; Prince Napoleon will reign, and you will form part of his first Ministry." In spite of his prophetic air I received his prediction with a peal of laughter, and in a joking tone replied, "Promise me, in that case, that you will give me my portfolio." " Well, then, I promise it." What is really sad is that the destinies of France were unsettled enough to make it possible for two young men of twenty to enter, even jokingly, into such an agreement.' > ' .) On returning from England he resided for a time in Paris, where he saw more of De Persigny and gained a real friend- ship for him. He also made the acquaintance of Madame Swetchine, the Abb6 Lacordaire and Lamartine, and pro- ceeded on a tour in Russia, returning thence through Munich and Strasburg. On leaving the Strasburg Opera-house one evening he was addressed by a friend, the Comte de Bruc, who said, ' I think }^ou will be pleased to learn that M. de Persigny is here, but quite incognito' M. de Falloux replied that he should like to see him, but Memoirs of a Royalist 109 "was compelled to leave early next morning, when his friend urged him to pay his visit at once, as midnight was just the time to see De Persigny. Our author then tells us : ' I yielded to his urgent request, . . . and after traversing two or three winding streets and a low entrance, we ascended to a garret, where I found myself face to face with six or seven young men round a bowl of punch. It was Prince Louis's etat-major. ' De Persigny was for a moment overcome with astonishment, and then putting his arms round my neck exclaimed, " Can we at last then count upon you?" "Always as a friend, never as a Napoleonist." The circumstances having been explained, he remarked : " Eest assured, it is Providence who sends you to us. The Prince is close by, just across the frontier. The garrison is ours, and in two or three days we shall be welcomed by the whole of France. . . ." After an hour's useless discussion I arose, and cordially embracing M. de Persigny, but with sad forebodings, regained my lodgings at five o'clock in the morning, and started for Paris without breathing a word of my secret. A few days after Prince Louis was a prisoner. M. de Persigny had escaped across the frontier.' In default of a directly political arena, M. de Falloux devoted himself to literature and matters of social utility. He was also, with other members of the Legitimist party, most zealous in works of active beneficence. The Government of July, which had to defend itself against both memories of the past and aspirations for the future, leant almost exclusively upon the middle class. The friends of M. de Falloux such as Frederic Ozanam, Armand de Melun, Adolph Baudon, Werner de Merode, Augustin Cochin and others were emphatically the friends of the poor. His beneficence was closely connected with his religion, but in his piety he was independent and judged for himself. Thus a certain divergence of opinion gradually arose between our author and a great leader of the religious party. Montalembert was strongly impressed with the evil consequences to religion of too close an alliance between it and the State, and had no Memoirs of a Royalist nothing more at heart than to keep Church questions entirely separated from contact with Legitimacy. Against this De Falloux remonstrated, saying : ' It is impossible to maintain men's religious and political con- sciences for ever separate and distinct. Normally they should dwell together, and mutually aid and enlighten each other in society as well as with individuals. You have refused to follow De Lamennais in his doctrine of the absolute separation of Church and State ; do not then let us, and get it an octave lower.' In this dispute all Conservatives and very many Liberal Englishmen now consider he was right. His first literary attempt was a study of the reign of Louis XVI., for which he prepared himself by very carefully reading all the memoirs he could obtain on the history of France from Joinville to Mirabeau. He was aided by Baron Monnier, whose father had been a member of the Constituent Assembly, and M. Laborie, an ardent but eccentric 1 man, who in 1793 was a young barrister and secretary to M. de Malesherbes. Of his comparatively juvenile work he writes : 'If I had undertaken to write the Life of Louis xvi. towards the end of my career instead of at its commencement, ... I should have made more prominent the fact that it was the long disuse of the States-General which was the main cause of the danger in 1789, and should have more insisted on the prolonged blindness and consequent responsibility of the privileged classes. . . . Nevertheless, I did not devote one line to an apology for absolute power, and I deplored the dismissal of Turgot and Malesherbes at the beginning of the reign.' De Falloux was about to publish his works, when the newspapers announced that the Count de Chambord would assist at the manoeuvres of the Austrian Camp at Verona. 1 He was known for the brevity of his letters. On one occasion, writing to condole with a lady who had just lost her husband, he limited himself to the simple exclamation, ' Ah ! madame ! ' A year afterwards, when she had just married again, he congratulated her by one monosyllabic exclamation more, and wrote, ' Ah ! ah ! madame ! ' Memoirs of a Royalist 1 1 1 The temptation to go there was irresistible, and at once De Falloux set out for Italy, where at Parma he saw Maria Theresa, Napoleon's widow, now married for the third time. ' I do not know whether the Empress had been beautiful ; at any rate, when I had the honour of seeing her, her person was by no means attractive, . . . and she looked older than she was. ... As to the Emperor Napoleon, there was no bust or portrait of him any- where, nor of the Due de Reichstadt. Everything betokened either the most complete forgetfulness, or the most courageous resignation.' He found Home in a great state of agitation on account of the presence there of the Count de Chambord, who had given no notice of his coming, out of consideration for the Pope's relations with Louis Philippe. The French colony rapidly increased in numbers, all hastening to the Palazzo Conti, where the Count had taken up his residence with the Due de LeVis, Count Locmaria, Count Fernand de la Ferronays, the Abbe Trebuquet, and Mgr. Frayssinous. The impression he produced was in most re- spects favourable, but already an excess of timidity displayed itself in his entourage. By degrees the Due de Levis estab- lished a sort of quarantine about the Court ' which allowed no ideas and no advice to reach him without having first passed through a sort of fumigation. The doors were thrown widely open for short, cordial audiences, which only admitted homage full of emotion on one side, and manifestations of an unaffected kindness on the other. But if one wished to go further, and by indiscretion, or on the strength of some special claim, one ventured to ask a question or give a grave reply, or enter upon some question of any political importance, immediately M. de Levis's face became clouded, and access was diminished or even denied.' Already he showed that vague indecision (as to what was to be his course of action) which was the real cause why the Count died without having attained, for however brief a time, the throne of France. 1 1 2 Memoirs of a Royalist Soon after M. de Falloux's second return home from Italy, Louis Napoleon made his singular attempt at Boulogne, and his trial was to begin in September 1840. M. Berryer was engaged to defend him, and had to go daily to consult his client at the Luxembourg. There also was imprisoned Napoleon's enthusiastic follower, Vicomte .Fiolin de Persigny, whom M. de Falloux obtained permission to visit through M. Berryer's aid, and whom he was able subsequently to befriend, thus adding another link to the chain which bound together the two faithful, but strangely divergent friends. In 1841 M. de Falloux married Mile, de Caradeuc de la Chalotais, an ardent Royalist and an ardent lover of his cherished Anjou. The following year he became an almost successful candidate for the Chamber of Deputies, and was actually elected for Angers in 1846. It was the period of struggle between Thiers and Guizot, and the new deputy was at first under the spell of the latter's influence. ' I certainly did not enter the Chamber a disciple of M. Guizot, whom I hardly knew by sight ; but I was strongly impressed by the grandeur of his language, the firmness of his character, as well as by his statesmanlike qualities, . . . but I soon had to modify my views. Guizot had overcome a parliamentary crisis by the imposing words, " Your insults will never attain the altitude of my disdain." Had he, however, the same energy in action ? This I soon had reason to doubt. I saw his inclination for delay, and his tendency to think more of the promulgation of theories than of practical activity, and to 'have little regard for the needs of the country with respect to ordinary everyday matters. ... He lived as a poor man, he died poor, and, after 1848, during his noble retirement under the Empire, I said to myself, as I ascended an endless staircase to his modest dwelling, " Our respect for such men should augment with every floor we have to mount." Nevertheless, when in full power, he drew towards some men of decidedly inferior morality.' M. de Falloux became the ardent and persevering advocate of liberty in education, and after many efforts, succeeded in passing the equitable law which is known as ' la loi Falloux.' Memoirs of a Royalist 1 1 3 M. Guizot was not opposed to such freedom in principle, and might have gained, by adopting it, considerable support. But he dreaded the storm it might raise, and the opportunity it might afford for the hostile eloquence of M. Thiers and the Left of the Chamber. He even vehemently opposed an inoffensive postal reform which M. de Falloux, who was quite outside all party disputes, warmly supported. He was placed on the Committee appointed to consider the subject, and spoke so successfully in the Chamber that M. Guizot found himself compelled to submit to a reduction. The question of liberty in education was making progress. M. de Salvandy, Minister of Public Instruction, even proposed a law upon the subject, when the 24th of February arrived, and Ministry, Chamber, and King were carried away by the revolutionary torrent. The Revolution of 1848 has been more than once said to have been an effect without a cause ; it was rather an effect out of proportion to its causes, whereof the more decisive was the unexpected weakness of the King. He had seen the fall of Napoleon through war, and this had made him cling to peace. He had seen Charles x. faU after having violated his ' Charter ' of 1814, and he was deeply persuaded that a scrupu- lous fidelity to his Charter of 1830 would secure his throne from every danger. ' A contemporary and friend of La Fayette, and owing his election to the National Guard, he had never contemplated the possibility of a rupture with the citizen force ; and when, in his presence, in the Place Carrousel, some of its battalions cried, " Vive la reforme !" he retreated, overcome by a cry he felt himself quite unable to repress. Pale, overwhelmed, unresisting, he returned to the Tuileries, took, without resistance, the pen presented to him to sign his abdication, and allowed himself to be carried into exile without giving an order or taking a single measure in favour of a regency he thought little about or had little faith in. He may have been also the victim of some remorse, for he was heard to repeat several times in a low voice, " Like Charles x., like Charles x. !" ' VOL. I. H 114 Memoirs of a Royalist Just as the irreconcilable antagonism between M. Villele and M. de Chateaubriand was the immediate occasion of the fall of Legitimate monarchy, so that of Louis Philippe was immedi- ately occasioned by the violent opposition between M. Thiers and M. Guizot ; although in neither case was the result desired by either disputant. As we all know, the prohibition of a banquet in honour of electoral reform brought about the actual explosion. In spite of their opposition to the July regime, M. Berryer and his followers refused to take part in this attack against it. At a general meeting of all parties of the opposition, he spoke twice, warning the supporters of the movement that the ground they were marching towards would give way beneath their feet. M. de Lamartine violently repelled every counsel of prudence and moderation. He was then enjoying, with a sort of intoxication, the popularity which his History of the Girondins had procured him, and he assumed the atti- tude of a man no longer content with mere description, but aspiring to actually play a great part himself. The conduct of M. Thiers was by no means straightforward. He kept at the door of the meeting-room without saying a word, though he heard everything, and every now and then, by some gesture, gave encouragement to the most vehement ex- pressions. ' When the increasing tumult showed that the time of reasoning was over, M. Berryer retired. I and M. Rainneville followed him, M. Thiers leaving at the same time, and accompanying us a short distance. On the way, I said to him, " Are you not alarmed at all we have just heard and seen ?" " Not in the least." " But we seem to be on the eve of a revolution !" He shrugged his shoulders and cheerfully replied, with the utmost confidence, " A revolution ! a revolution ! It is plain you know nothing of the power of a govern- ment ! I do ; it is ten times greater than the strength of any pos- sible revolt. With a few thousand men commanded by my friend, Marshal Bugeaud, I would answer for everything. You will pardon Memoirs of a Royalist 115 me, my dear M. de Falloux, if I frankly say the Kestoration was overthrown by nothing but stupidity, and I will guarantee that we shall not be overthrown as that was. The National Guard will give M. Guizot a good lesson. The King's ear is sharp enough ; he will understand and yield in time." ' The next day the aspect of the Chamber of Deputies seemed to justify Thiers' words. The majority were full of confidence in the firmness of Guizot, as was Guizot in that of the King. But soon after, he suddenly ascended the tribune, and with melancholy calmness told them that M. Mole had been summoned to the Tuileries to form a new Cabinet. Immediately there were loud cries of ' Treason ! Betrayal ! It is the King's abdication a revolution ! ' At six o'clock next morning M. Thiers was Prime Minis- ter ; at seven he was powerless ; at noon the King had abdi- cated, and Thiers, greatly agitated, ' too much so for a man who had sought so great a responsibility,' was seeking in the Chamber of Deputies an exit by which he could safely make his escape. The efforts of Odilon Barrot and others in favour of moderate changes and a regency were repelled, as we learn, mainly by Ledru-Rollin, who, with Lamartine, became together the representatives of the movement in spite of their divergent ambitions. In the Chamber filled by a crowd of insurgents the deputies did what they could. The Legitimists remained, resolved to close round and protect the Duchess of Orleans and her children, together with her own partisans, and only separated when her safety was secured. M. de Falloux gives abundant evidence of that patriotic union of men of very different parties which took place on the fall of the Monarchy of July ; and this was the case even with the women. The Moniteur of March 11, 1848, an- nounced the names of the most aristocratic ladies of the Faubourg Saint- Germain side by side with those of Mesdames 1 1 6 Memoirs of a Royalist Dupont (de 1'Eure), Ledru-Rollin, Flocon, Cre"mieux, etc., etc., as patronesses of a charitable effort. Still more remarkable, as contrasted with the Revolution of 1830, and with the existing French Republic, is the absence of anti-religious passion. The Archbishop of Paris, attended by his two ' grande vicaires,' assured M. Dupont de 1'Eure of the friendly aid of the clergy, and received the following reply: 'The Provisional Government receives your adhesion to the French Republic with the most lively satisfaction. Free- dom and Religion are two sisters, equally interested in living happily together.' A few days afterwards, M. Carnot, Minister of Education and Worship, and father of the present French President, addressed a circular letter to the French Bishops, which ended thus : ' Do not allow the priests of your diocese to forget that they belong to the great family the nation and participate in all the rights of French citizens, and that in Electoral Assemblies or in the National Assembly, to which the confidence of their fellow-citizens may call them, they have but one interest to defend that of the country, in intimate union with that of religion.' The Legitimists of the West worked shoulder to shoulder in support of the cause of order, and M. de Falloux was elected to a seat in the Constitutional Assembly. Universal suffrage surprised both Conservatives and Revolutionists. The despotism which Ledru-Rollin had im- posed on the provinces by means of his commissaries became disconcerted and irresolute before the passive resistance of the population. Easter Day had been fixed for the elec- tions by Ledru-Rollin's friends, in the hope of thereby practi- cally disenfranchising the more zealous Catholics. But the Bishops gave free permission to change the hours of worship, and the cures marched to the poll at the head of their parishioners. Pere Lacordaire, the Bishops of Langres, Quimper, and Orleans, as well as some cures and clerical Memoirs of a Royalist 117 professors, were elected, as well as not a few of the old Chamber of Peers, M. Mole and M. Montalembert being among the number. It had been absurdly decreed that the deputies, at the first meeting of the Assembly (May 4th) should wear as their official costume a coat and waistcoat & la Robespierre. No one, however, but the members of the Government assumed that odious costume, and the impression produced was such that they dare no more appear in it. At that first sitting, amongst other exaggerations, it was proposed that the Government and Assembly should appear outside to frater- nise with the people, a proposition welcomed by the Ministers in their revolutionary costume, who carried the Left with them, and ultimately the whole Assembly. M. de Falloux tells us : ' I was one of the last, and joined Pere Lacordaire, for whom I felt some uneasiness . . . but who received a special ovation. With reiterated applause and hand-shakings, he was drawn away into the middle of the crowd, and only regained the chamber with much difficulty. ' In the evening a great number of us went to M. Lamartine's and congratulated him on his heroic struggles of March and April. But we also wished to make him understand our disapprobation of the theatrical scenes of the morning. . . . Thereupon he appeared pro- foundly surprised. . . . Did he not alone suffice for everything ? This thought, which he did not fear to manifest, was supplemented by those in his confidence, who, taking each of us aside, said to us, " What are you troubling yourself about 1 Make haste and establish the Executive and give it the largest powers. The Executive will be M. de Lamartine ; give him the reins, and every- thing will be safe ! " ' Excessive vanity, and entire want of political ability, made the eloquence of Lamartine at that time a great danger, which was strongly brought home to M. de Falloux by a fact told him by Marrast. It appears that the latter wanted much to know what the old Liberals thought of him and his Memoirs of a Royalist Provisional Government. Our author told him that Thiers, speaking of the admirable harangue of Lamartine against the Red flag, had said : ' That is more than I expected of him. I should have thought him more ready to yield to every wind that blew, and I could have fancied him say " You are right : every new crisis demands a new symbol, and I salute the red flag !" To this statement Marrast replied : " Thiers is a devilish sharp fellow ! He said that, did he ? Well, that is just what Lamartine did really say, word for word, in our private deliberation ; . . . finding himself in a minority, he loyally carried out our desire, and supported with all the powers of his eloquence the very arguments we had used against his own view."' A Commission of Five 1 having been elected to replace the Provisional Government, the Assembly organised itself into fifteen special committees, and M. de Falloux joined that which was set apart to consider questions concerning labour : ' As soon as I had entered the Committee I perceived that its demagogic section was less occupied about organising any pacific amelioration than about preparing as rapidly as possible a rising against the Assembly, and against every civilised State with the help of its army in the National workshops. The Government had long before promised to close the National workshops, but neither Louis Blanc nor Ledru-Rollin would carry it out, and Lamartine never thought of it, so when the Chamber opened, there were 100,000 men paid by the State for pretending to work, which had become a most dangerous army of Socialism. Thereupon followed the invasion of the Assembly on the 15th of May, which, thanks to the Conservatives, and not a little to the exertions of M. de Falloux, was so speedily suppressed. The dissolution or complete transformation of the National workshops was desired by every section of the Assembly, and the report of the Committee of Labour on the subject was accepted by the Government and the Assembly, in spite of the unavowed hostility of Ledru-Rollin, greatly through the efforts and 1 Of these, Ledru-Rollin had the fewest votes (458), and Lamartine the next lowest (643), Arago, Gamier-Pages, and Marie had 725, 715, and 702 votes respectively. Memoirs of a Royalist 119 industry of M. de Falloux. On the 23rd of June, barricades were raised all over Paris, the Committee of Five resigned, and General Cavaignac was intrusted with the executive power and repressed the revolt with vigour, as every one knows, but it is not so well known that in the four days' violent struggle France lost more general officers than were killed in the most memorable battles of the Empire. M. de Falloux went with a friend to the Hotel Dieu to carry relief to the wounded. ' At first the wounded National Guards and insurgents had been placed in the wards indiscriminately ; but it was soon seen to be neces- sary to separate them. Some insurgents were found to have dragged themselves from their own bed to that of a wounded Guard, and bitten him till the blood came, if he could not be wounded afresh in other ways. It is necessary to have witnessed such scenes to be able to appreciate the crime of those who, by lies coolly reiterated, had aroused such fury in the masses. At that time nothing would have convinced these unhappy, misled men that the National Assembly was not the enemy of the people and thirsted for its blood ; and that the barricades had been raised to protect the working man and his family from such pitiless barbarism.' On leaving the hospital he encountered the Archbishop of Paris on his way to the barricade, where he so nobly ended his life. ' 1 solicited the honour of accompanying him ; but, touching his own purple cassock with one hand, and my representative's scarf with the other, he smilingly said, " I think, for my protection, that this is better than that." ' General Cavaignac encountered what was at first but a vague opposition from the friends of the old Government, the most prominent being MM. Jules Favre, Paguerre, and Gamier-Pages. His main support was a group known as the ' Union of the Rue de Poitiers/ consisting of Legitimists, Organists, and Republicans, intent only upon maintaining order, and so desirous of not being hampered in their action by the past, that they had excluded all members of former political notoriety. After the terrible days of June, however, they admitted Odilon-Barrot, Mole, Thiers, and some others. I2O Memoirs of a Royalist M. de Falloux formed one of a deputation from the Union, which visited Cavaignac, by appointment, at seven o'clock in the morning and found him still worn out with the fatigue of the struggle, lying on his camp bed. ' General Cavaignac had rare and lofty qualities. His dignified and military appearance inspired respect ; his sober, energetic speech was sometimes eloquent in its brevity. He had no affectation or pretension, and his character was as noble as his person. He had not Christian humility, but he had modesty. His accent and gesture could not be surpassed when addressing the Assembly, and, pointing to General de la Moriciere, he said, " What amazes me is to see him in the second place, when I am in the first." What he lacked was an education worthy of him. His rich nature had unhappily been exposed to bad influences. He was born and educated in the midst of unjust passions and narrow prejudices. Son and brother of men far more extreme, he had accepted as an inheritance, and as a point of honour, opinions and habits which, had he been firm, he would certainly never have sought or adopted. This influence appeared at first to aid him ; but soon it compromised and paralysed him, and ultimately ruined him. When one perceived what was defective and mistaken in him, one left him with regret, sadly looking back to see if he would not advance or whether one could not return ; and when the rupture became definite, one retained for him both regret and sympathy. Such are the real sentiments experienced in his regard, and for a long time such were also the sentiments of the whole Conservative party.' The first sign of discord arose from the General's persist- ence in appointing M. Carnot Minister of Public Instruction ; a vain effort, for on Bonjean bringing forward some school- books authorised by Carnot, the latter was forced at once to resign. His second ill-advised but fruitless attempt was to send commissioners with almost unlimited powers into the provinces to stimulate republican feeling. The next task was the settlement of the Constitution. M. de Falloux only took part in the discussion of its eighth article which proclaimed the natural rights of French citizens, those of ' association,' 'peaceable assemblage/ 'petition,' and 'proclamation of Memoirs of a Royalist 1 2 1 opinions,' orally or by the press. M. de Montalembert and M. Roux-Lavergne proposed to add to these 'freedom of instruction.' As we know, the really critical question was the mode of electing the President of the Republic. The first tendency was to confer that power on the Assembly, who would, without doubt, have elected General Cavaignac, but he either refused to give guarantees to the majority, or, what was worse, gave only evasive replies. The Bonapartists and the Left advocated a plebiscite. It was then that Lamartine, hoping thus himself to be elected, emerged from the obscurity in which he had dwelt, and once more misled his country with his fatal gift of eloquence. He said : '"I well know that a multitude may have moments of aberration, and that some names carry away crowds as a scarlet rag may attract senseless animals." Nevertheless he added : " Men may be corrupted in groups, but not in masses. A glass of water may be poisoned, but not a river. An assembly is open to suspicion, but a nation is as incorruptible as the ocean.'" As if masses of men could not be misled or an ocean be tempest-tossed ! His eloquence carried away the majority of his auditors, a memorable warning of the danger that a nation runs which has but a single legislative body. Soon after the vote which elected Louis Napoleon, M. de Falloux learnt what had really been Lamartine's anticipations, which had been naively expressed in the following words : 'With universal suffrage no individual will obtain a sufficient majority; but Prince Louis, Ledru-Rolliu, and I shall obtain enough to have to appear before the National Assembly. When that comes I will give full vent to my political aspirations, and I will paint the future in such magnificent colours that the Assembly, carried away, will elect me, perhaps unanimously.' M. de Falloux would have strongly supported Cavaignac had only the General allowed him so to do. But he outraged the sentiments of the majority by gratuitously 122 Memoirs of a Royalist recalling to mind his father's vote in favour of Louis xvi.'s death, and by other similar exaggerations, and it was asserted in the Assembly that public recompenses were to be given to the accomplices of Fieschi. Votes then became rapidly transferred to support the plebiscite and favour Napoleon. Thiers expressed frankly his views thus : ' " I had myself thought of becoming a candidate ; but I see that idea must be given up, and Louis Napoleon supported without, however, assuming his livery. If I were to try, and fail, it would be a disaster for the cause of order, while, if I were to succeed, I should be obliged to wed the Republic, and I am not the lad for such a worthless bride as that." Thereupon he became the most ardent supporter of the Prince, seduced by the latter's apparent incapacity, thinking he could lead him as he liked, and ready once more, as in February, to " answer for everything." ' In the first days of December 1848, M. Odilon-Barrot came in the name of Louis Napoleon to M. de Falloux and offered him, to his great surprise, the Ministry of Education and Public Worship. He refused for a considerable time, but yielded at last to the arguments of his friends, especially those of the Abbe Dupanloup. Before assenting finally, however, he went to Thiers and made it a condition that the latter should aid him to carry a bill in favour of liberty of education. ' " I promise it you, I promise it you," Thiers answered with emotion ; " and, believe me, I do it willingly. Count on me, for my conviction is now the same as yours ; I and my Liberal friends have been on the wrong road in religious matters ; I own it frankly." ' On the 20th of December a list of the Ministry of Odilon- Barrot was published in the Moniteur. ' When,' says M. de Falloux, ' I took my place as Grand Master of the University, the first thing which struck my eyes in the office was a beautiful portfolio of red morocco, on which was inscribed, "From M. de Persigny, in remembrance of London in 1835. . . ." Memoirs of a Royalist 123 ' The relations of Louis Bonaparte with his Ministers were much embarassed at first, and sometimes amusing. Odilon-Barrot was the only one he had previously known. One may say that he was familiar with no one outside the little group of Napoleonists, in the midst of which he habitually lived. He had really to make ac- quaintance with France itself. He was thus liable to all sorts of mistakes ; and his foreign accent, which the Charivari was always ridiculing, added to his embarrassment.' The initial meeting took place in the drawing-room of Madame Clary in the Rue d'Anjou. The Ministers found the Prince alone, and he shook hands with each in a cordial manner, saying simply, 'I thank you.' Misunderstandings arose almost immediately, and it was found impossible to put trust in the President, who would pass from an apparently profound calm to some sudden, unexpected action. Never was the proverb ' Silence gives consent ' less true than in his case. Though he did not sustain his opinions, he did not, for all that, renounce them, and they felt the justice of Lord Palmerston's saying that the projects of his brain were as numerous as the rabbits of a warren, and as ready to retire and hide themselves. An amnesty for the insurgents of June was one of the first projects of Louis Napoleon, which his Ministers strenuously opposed. M. de Falloux, however, persevered with his great project of liberty of education, and his Clerical and Conservative friends made a strong point of insisting on liberty for all and no privilege, and he gained the warm support of Thiers and Victor Cousin. On quitting the final sitting of the Com- mission on the subject Thiers caught hold of the philosopher's arm, exclaiming, ' Cousin ! Cousin ! what a lesson have we not received ! The Abbe Doupanloup is right. Yes, we have fought against reason and justice, and we owe them repara- tion.' After prolonged and persevering efforts, and in spite of the violent opposition of the radicals and that irrational journal I'Univers, the Law was voted by 399 against 237 on 124 Memoirs of a Royalist the 15th of March 1850. A few months after he had relinquished office. The expedition to Rome and the letter to Edgar Ney are of course familiar to us all, but the firmness through which M. de Falloux obtained a public disavowal in the Moniteur of its intentional publicity should also be known. He had entered the Ministry with two objects in view the Law on Education, and the restoration of the Pope's temporal power. These appearing both secured, he felt justified in retiring and seeking that repose which his failing health had for some time seemed to render necessary. He wrote to the President sincerely thanking him for his constant goodness towards him, and received in reply a letter containing the following expressions : 'Ely see National, 21th October 1849. ' My DEAR M. DE FALLOUX, I have learnt with sincere regret that your health is so uncertain, and that you absolutely need repose of body and mind. Persigny has given me the details as to how you are. . . . You will understand how much it costs me to separate from one who has given so many proofs of his devotion to the country, and I trust that when no longer a minister, you will retain the same feelings of regard for me.' He went to the Elysee to take leave, and found the President just about to mount his horse, who excused himself, saying : ' I wish to thank you in your own home and see Madame de Falloux ; I will call on my way home, and talk over the situation.' They waited for him all day, but he did not come, and on the following they started for Nice, and during his stay there his father suddenly died. Meantime that struggle between the President and the Assembly began which ended with the coup d'ttat. Immediately after the Revolution of February, the Organists split into two factions. Louis Philippe at Clare- Memoirs of a Royalist 1 2 5 mont fully admitted that only the Count de Chambord could sustain the monarchical cause, and that his undoubted right coincided as fully with the political needs of the country now as they had diverged in 1830. The Queen Marie-Amelie, the Due de Nemours, and the Princess Clementine took the same view. The Duchess of Orleans, however, would not agree to the postponement of her children's hopes, and she was more or less supported by the Prince de Joinville and the Due d'Aumale. M. Mole" and M. Guizot followed the King, while M. Thiers, with Generals Changarnier, De la Moriciere, and Bedeau, took the opposite side. In justice to Thiers it must be said that he then desired above all things to maintain the union of the Conservative party : ' " It is not my business," he said, " to bring about the fusion. That would not harmonise with my antecedents or with my taste. Once, however, it is carried out it will find no enemy in me. On that day I shall cry : ' Long live the King ! ' whatever happens. For a Eepublic is impossible in France, and no personal dislikes or advantages will ever make me either a Republican or a Bonapartist." General Changarnier, as Commander of the Army of Paris, lived at the Tuileries, and spoke his mind about what had happened at the Elysee and other matters such as the President's debts and gallantries with utter carelessness; and this although the servants who waited at table were not his, but were attached to the palace. He was possessed with the idea that before the monarchical restoration took place, a dictatorial interregnum was necessary, with himself for Dictator. He had no doubt of his own power and influence over the army. M. de Falloux was convinced that the time had come to opp'ose the Legitimate Monarchy to the Republic. The Legitimists had as early as 1832 x been divided into two parties. The Parliamentary party who rallied round MM. 1 Vol. i. p. 220. 126 Memoirs of a Royalist de Chateaubriand, Berryer, Hyde de Neuville, and De Vatimesnil and the party which dreamt of an appeal to arms, which was headed by the Due des Cars and General de la Rochejacquelin. The Vicomte de Saint-Priest and the Marquis de Pastoret stood between the two. In 1850 the immense majority of the Legitimists desired to ma"ke the country see that M. Berryer was the true representative of the sentiments and intentions of the Comte de Chambord, and the Orle"anists, headed by Thiers and Guizot, treated with him much as they would have done with the Prince in person. The only thing which seemed necessary was that this view should be officially confirmed. M. de Falloux had conceived certain suspicions, owing to words dropped by M. de Saint-Priest and the Due des Cars; but he was on the point of starting to see the Comte de Chambord to set the matter at rest when a remarkable incident took place. Louis Philippe had died in August, and the Comte de Chambord was at Wiesbaden with a considerable number of Frenchmen. He immediately put on mourning and ordered a funeral service, as also did the Duchesse d'Angouleme at Frohnsdorf. The Legitimists generally, and especially all those who had been at Wiesbaden, were full of hopes of reconciliation and fusion, when a manifesto suddenly appeared, known as the ' Circular of Wiesbaden.' Therein the most uncompromising principles of ultra-royalism of absolutism were expressed, and not only was any appel au peuple formally and absolutely condemned, but no loophole was left for any assertion of the right of the nation to determine its own future. It ended by naming as his representatives the Due des Cars, the Marquis de Pastoret, the General Saint- Priest, the Due de Levis, and M. Berryer. This manifesto threw the Legitimist party into consternation and confusion, which gave rise to remonstrances, one effect of which was the publication of another letter more favourable to constitutional principles, while a further result was an invitation to M. de Memoirs of a Royalist 127 Falloux from the Comte de Chambord to join his Committee of Five, which received the following reply : ' MONSEIGNEUR, At the moment when you deigned to direct your thoughts to me I was overwhelmed with grief. I had just lost a mother to whom I am greatly indebted, were it only for that senti- ment of unalterable devotion to Monseigneur, which she cherished. Although a new proof of Monseigneur's goodness is the greatest consolation I could receive, even that is powerless to recover me from prostrating weakness. It is very painful to me to recognise the fact that I am a useless servant. Nevertheless the reiterated blows I have received may seem to excuse me. It is impossible for me now to foresee on what day I may be able to return to Paris and the Assembly, but if my failing health allows me to go anywhere, it is to Venice that I hope to go, to present to Monseigneur the homage of those sentiments of profound respect with which I am always his humble and faithful servant, A. DE FALLOTJX.' To Venice he went, and had the satisfaction of seeing the cordial reception which the Emperor of Austria there met with. M. de Falloux was most graciously received by the Comte de Chambord, but dismayed at finding him so ill-informed as to the possibilities of armed support for his cause in France. The Prince said : 'The Due des Cars has illusions which I do not share. He thinks that at any moment he could raise 200,000 men ; but I know perfectly well that he could hardly raise half that number.' In spite of the pain he felt at undeceiving him, M. de Falloux replied with deliberate firmness : 'M. le Due des Cars has no more 100,000 men under his orders than he has 200,000, and it is most necessary that Monseigneur should be well assured of this. Scattered in the west and south the Due has 4000 or 5000, who are more or less willing to be enrolled ; some ready to sacrifice their lives; others who will take time for reflection.' The next day he added the following reasonable re- marks : ' Whateverjis to^be believed as to our military force, the first 128 Memoirs of a Royalist thing is to assume one constant line of conduct. The warlike idea requires an absolutely different policy from that of an appeal to the tribune and the press. To seek both at the same time is to render both impossible. . . . What would be at stake in such a double game would be the authority and honour of your word.' M. de Falloux retired, thinking he had gained his object, and with the promise that an invitation to Frohnsdorf for M. Berryer should be taken to Paris by the Due de LeVis. Meantime the plans of Louis Napoleon were maturing, and the critical question of a revision of the constitution, which would allow of 'his continuing at the head of the State, was started by the Elyse'e. 1 Although the suspicions of the Assembly were aroused, that body felt secure as long as General Changarnier (then called 'le sphinx') remained at the head of the army of Paris. He was, however, dismissed after General Neumayer, for having, like the latter, forbidden the troops, while under arms, to utter cries such as the Vive I'Empereur ! which had been shouted at Satory. At this time the question of the flag to be adopted by the Comte de Chambord appears to have been first dis- cussed without any definite result. It was declared in his name that he by no means repelled the symbol of a recon- ciliation which he had at heart, but that until he was invited by the country to do so, he could not display before the eyes of the daughter of Louis xvi. a flag that recalled to her such agonising recollections. The Due de Levis declared that the matter was to be decided by the nation itself, and it was asserted by M. de la Ferronnays that the Count had ordered a new uniform with a tricoloured cockade. But no movement was made by him to invite a fusion, and the Royalist party remained profoundly divided, as also was the Republican Left. The result of the confusion of parties was that the revision was rejected; the majority being almost one hundred less 1 Vol. ii. p. 43. Memoirs of a Royalist 129 than was required to carry it, and this was followed by a prorogation from July to the 4th of November. Before the latter date the President openly showed his hand by dis- missing his Ministry, and choosing one altogether outside the Assembly General Saint-Arnaud being made Minister of War. The alarm thence resulting moved the Chamber to attempt an energetic measure of self-defence, but the attempt was defeated by the radical party. Amongst them were some real accomplices of the Elysee, while many others preferred the despotism of a Bonaparte to a Monarchical restoration. Amongst the supporters of the Government were Jules Favre and Cr^mieux. Not freedom, but domination, was always the real aspiration of that section of the Liberal party. Still more guilty, however, was Louis Veuillot and the coterie represented by ' L' Univers.' x Everything was now prepared for the coup d'etat except the selection of the day, and the anxiety of those men who were neither accomplices nor blind, continually augmented. At the end of November the Due de Noailles, M. Berryer, General Changarnier, M. Vitet, and M. de Falloux dined with M. Mole". When the servants had left, they consulted General Changarnier as to the chances of the attack and the defence. His confidence was complete, believing himself able to lead the army. Irritated at the incredulity of his friends, he frankly stated the grounds of his confidence. He did not believe that the President would be able to employ any but obscure and contemptible agents, and certainly none of his (Changarnier's) companions in arms. All that was needed, therefore, was a brief opposition. ' My lodging,' he said, ' is a little fortress ; the people hi my house are devoted to me, especially the confectioner on the ground floor and his cooks.' This speech filled his auditors with sadness and con- sternation. The end was evidently at hand. i Vol. ii. pp. 128-133. VOL. I. I 1 30 Memoirs of a Royalist When Thiers was seized in his bed he was as astonished as he had been in 1830. Changarnier was so cleverly and suddenly attacked that he had not time even to seize the pistols he kept ready. Bedeau was the only general who was able to make a brief struggle in the street, and he was quickly overpowered and carried off in & fiacre. M. de Falloux only heard of what had happened next morning from his servant. He arose immediately, and was quickly visited by some of his friends. They went at once to a meeting of representatives in the Rue de Lille, where 300 members had just voted the President's dismissal, when they perceived a mass of troops under their windows. They were quickly invaded, but the Vice-Presidents and General Oudinot addressed the soldiers, in the name of the law and military honour, with so much dignity, that their leader, visibly over- come, retired after a little hesitation, taking his men with him. Fresh orders and reinforcements were necessary, and then a hand was placed on each of the Vice-Presidents, and the whole 300 were made to descend and pass between two rows of soldiers and a mocking crowd, to the barrack on the Quai d'Orsay, where they were turned first into the courtyard, and at night into a, large hall. An officer from Anjou, M. de Jourdan, recognised M. de Falloux, and procured him a room which he shared with M. de Resse"gnier and M. Berryer. At midnight a commissary of police summoned them to be driven elsewhere, and their surprise was great to find they were to be taken in prison vans to an unknown destination, which turned out to be the fortress of Mount Vale"rien. There some infantry officers and soldiers made excuses for the disorder of the dormitory, saying, with great politeness, ' We did not expect you/ and received a laughing reply from M. de Falloux's friends. At the end of the dormitory was an outlook over all Memoirs of a Royalist 131 Paris, and then two members of the Left said one to the other, not seeing M. de Falloux, ' It is strange no place on fire yet ! ' showing what were the hopes of some even of the so-called Moderate Republicans. Fire had often been threatened by the demagogic press. The next day they received a visit from the Duchesse de Luynes, she having obtained permission from the President, who 'allowed nobody to grant one but himself. As they were leaving, M. Leverrier was entering, and her son called her attention to him, saying, ' It is the great astronomer, whom no one can surpass in discovering new stars.' The charming Duchesse, who had brought two ' pates de foiegras' for her husband, and a newspaper containing a letter of Mole, which we all warmly applauded, accepted with charming grace a number of commissions from the Republi- cans who crowded round her. The most comic of these was M. Thouret, who lamented that he had had the destiny of France in his hands, and had allowed his opportunity to slip from him. During the Constituent Assembly he had, in fact, proposed an amendment, which rendered ineligible members of families that had reigned in France. ' Prince Louis ascended the tribune to repel it, but expressed him- self so badly, and with so foreign an accent, that the Assembly inter- rupted him by violent fits of laughter. M. Thouret then spoke again, saying : " After what the Assembly has just heard, which all France will read to-morrow, my amendment has become useless." The indignity was intensified by applause, and the amendment was let drop. From that day Louis Napoleon very rarely came to the Assembly. The 2nd of December was his return blow.' Soon a letter was brought to M. de Falloux, expressed as follows : 'If you will consent to see me, I am waiting for you in the porter's lodge. PEESIGNY.' 132 Memoirs of a Royalist He hesitated, but feeling no bitterness against M. de Per- signy, who had been ever faithful, at serious risks, to one cause, he went to him. He had not, however, succeeded hi obtaining his friend's release, which only took place three days later. It was then proposed to detain certain individuals but the rest refused to leave unless all could do so. They only yielded to a threat of force, and, similarly, they refused to quit the omnibuses voluntarily. This second difficulty was got over by taking out the horses, and leaving the Deputies to do what they liked. It is impossible to affirm that the coup d'ttat was truly unpopular, when six millions of votes sanctioned it. That the overthrow of the moderate Monarchy of Louis Philippe should have resulted in the establishment of a despotic Monarchy astonished not a few observers ; but the tide had turned. M. de Falloux forcibly depicts the contrast which existed between 1789 and 1848: 'In '89 all events converged to effect destruction; in 1848 all the attempts of the revolutionists only profited their opponents. In '89 the nation aspired to an object soon left behind; in 1848 the feel- ing was for the conservation and enjoyment of good things acquired. At the former epoch everything proved fatal to royalty virtue, in- telligence, the best intentions, and the most sincere devotion while perverseness, baseness, violence, ferocity, and ignorance conquered and reigned. Obstacles deemed uusurmountable were surmounted ; things thought indispensable were dispensed with. . . . In 1848 the parts had changed. The mob was powerless, and seductions and seditions failed. In the first revolution a few revolutionary bands of sansculottes from Marseilles terrorised and overthrew a civilisation of centuries. In the revolution of 1848 a formidable army in the Parisian "Atelier nationaux" was gathered together, and yet its attack was quickly defeated and order triumphed. In '89 the guardians of royalty were the supporters of insurrection; in 1848 the children of insurrection (the Gardes Mobiles) were the champions of conservative resistance. . . . What in my opinion ... is disputed in France, is not the political conquests of 1789, but the best mode of ensuring their pre- Memoirs of a Royalist 133 servation and development. . . . France is no longer revolutionary, but mainly conservative, the revolution of 1789 being included in what it would conserve. . . . But the latter-day Jacobins and Ter- rorists imagined that France was going to sacrifice for them, without need or motive, all that had been sacrificed sixty years before to bring about a complete social renovation . . . persisting in their blindness, the common-sense of the public made their ruin, in one form or another, inevitable.' But blindness and narrow bigotry characterised the men of the extreme Right as weU as of the extreme Left, and it was into the hands of the former that the interests of the Count de Chambord were more and more confided, while the services of M. Berryer were more and more repelled. It appears that the coup d'ttat had inspired the Count with a futile desire to hope for some such measure, without its violence, rather than to depend on the efforts of the Parliamentary Legiti- mists, and he strictly forbade his followers to join any elec- tive public body from the Municipal Councils to the Assem- bly. A fatal injunction, which our author thinks ought to have been treated as the Spanish Cortes once treated a royal decree: 'Received with respect, and not executed, for the service of His Majesty.' Meantime M. de Falloux retired altogether from political life, and occupied himself with rebuilding his house at Bourg d'Ire", with the peaceful struggles of agricultural competition, and with very active and intelligent philanthropy. He divided his house into two distinct parts one for his guests, the other for the family so that the former might be free, and the latter tranquil ; quiet being still better ensured by the non-erection of any rooms over the day-rooms of the family. For pictures he chose for himself copies of Ary Scheffer's 'Monica and St. Augustine' his favourite of all modern paintings J and of Le Sueur's ' Death of St. Bruno.' In the guest staircase he placed copies of Horace Vernet's 1 Now in our National Gallery. 134 Memoirs of a Royalist ' Battle of Fontenoy/ and of Tintoret's ' Battle of Lepanto,' and between them a bust of Pius ix. M. Berryer also loved his country residence of Angerville, with its old towers and moat. In 1855 Mgr. Dupanloup, M. de Salvandy, Montalembert, Thiers, and De Falloux happened to be there assembled as guests, when the following conversa- tion took place which richly merits preservation. Looking at a portrait of Charles x. given to M. Berryer by the King, M. Thiers said : ' " There is a face which breathes loyalty and goodness. Tell us, Berryer, what was really in the King's mind when he signed the ordonnances. Did he positively intend to violate the Charter, or did he sincerely believe in his right, on account of Article xiv., to do as he did?" ' " I will answer with complete frankness, if you, in turn, will tell me what was in the mind of the Duke of Orleans, and what you really meant in bringing about the revolution in July." ' " It is a bargain," answered Thiers, who seldom wanted much asking to relate a tale ; and, leaning against the fire-place with his hands behind his back, he described the three days with the most perfect good nature, in true and lively colours, much as follows : ' " I must first tell you that in bringing on the Eevolution of July, neither the Duke, Laffitte, nor any of us knew clearly how far we should be carried. The Duke willingly courted popularity ; but he desired it as a safeguard against the mistakes of the King, and to protect his property, for which he cared more as a family man than as a miser, for he was not the miser he was said to be. I admit he had no elevation of taste, but he liked to spend money in his own way, and every now and then could be prodigal of it. He had really but two fixed ideas. One was not to overthrow the King, the other was not to be driven into exile after him. His one object was to make a separate place for himself, without absolute devotion, but also without treachery. When, after the three days, one wanted to give him the crown, one had to drag him out of his retreat, just as if one had to put him in irons, and make him see that he had no choice but the throne or proscription. M. Laffitte was a vain, honest, simple bourgeois, who hated riots, but wished to play a part. He would just as willingly have accepted Charles x. as Louis Philippe, if the Memoirs of a Royalist 135 offer had been made soon enough. Casimir Perier roared like a lion when one spoke of interfering with the dynasty, and Guizot was too completely a disciple of Royer-Collard to go along with us. It was only La Fayette who had a vindictive feeling against the Bourbons ; and it was necessary to gain him over to our view in order that he might gain others. As for myself, I was frankly a child of the Revolution, and I only loved my mother ; but, for that very reason, I had no desire to compromise it lightly. I thought the Restoration was much stronger than it really was. There was not the slightest reason to doubt the fidelity of the army, and I never could have supposed it would not have been made use of. ' " We gained courage and confidence every hour in proportion as the defence became weaker, while nevertheless expecting, and being resigned to, a renewal of the attack. You may be quite sure that for several hours the Due de Mortemart really held the destinies of France in his hands. If he had been quicker, cleverer, or more resolute, we should have had to have given in. Several of us secretly wished that so it should be ; and all would have submitted with more or less grumbling. Even at Rambouillet the Monarchy might have been saved, if the King himself would have made the effort. When we saw the rabble sent off in pursuit of the King, we were convinced they would come back to Paris the worse for their venture. They were sent off much more with the idea of preserving Paris from serious disorders, than from any hope that they could overcome soldiers and artillery commanded by brave General Vincent, and only waiting for one sign from the King. ' " We carried through the Revolution of July simply because we were allowed to carry it through. If the Charter had been again offered us, with a regency under the Duke of Orleans, we should have jumped at it." M. Berryer then told his tale with as good a grace as M. Thiers. ' " I never knew," he said, " a more amiable and loyal disposition than that of Charles x. He had the faults common in his generation, and those due to his bringing up ; but he also had their good quali- ties. He loved his country, and sincerely believed that the best way to save it was carefully to preserve and maintain all the rights and prerogatives of the Crown. That in this idea he was fundamentally right, subsequent events have shown. But that friction which is inseparable from periods of transition alarmed him beyond reason, and his alarm was kept up by friends less sincere than he was him- 136 Memoirs of a Royalist self. If the Left of the Chamber had given a better reception to the Martignac Ministry, the King would not, of his own accord, have abandoned that policy. He had been long the friend of several members of the Cabinet, notably of MM. de la Ferronnays and Hyde de Neuville, and he, like every one else, felt the charm of M. de Martignac. * ' " He had no great opinion of the political competency of Prince de Polignac, and rather distrusted him, though he was a friend of his youth. His sudden, importunate adhesion to him was due to the fact that M. de Polignac and his friends at the Tuileries had always told the King that his concessions would be useless, that they would never disarm the Opposition, and that sooner or later he would be com- pelled to summon an exclusively Royalist Ministry to wage and win the last battle between Royalty and the Revolution. ' " On his return from his progress in Alsace, the King was in a state of exultation, and he lavished signs of his satisfaction on his Ministry. But when the Left, thanks to the connivance of the ex- treme Right, committed the unpardonable fault of putting M. de Martignac in a minority, the King recalled to mind M. de Polignac's prophecies. He believed himself thus doing but tardy justice to the political penetration of a friend he had under-estimated, and put him- self altogether into his hands, not, as has been generally believed, on account of any personal affection, but rather as a sort of amende honorable. Even after that it took a whole year to lead him, with great difficulty and sorely against the grain, to sign the ordonnances. At that very last moment, if only some of the Ministry had been as courageous as clear-sighted, if they had not given in to the fatal doctrine of mute and passive fidelity, if they had placed their resig- nation in the King's hands, instead of silently risking their own heads for him, the Monarchy might still have been saved. ' " Of Prince Polignac I will only speak with regret and respect," said M. Berryer, after a little hesitation. " He it was who started me on my political career. He had great respect for his family, and a high opinion of his own destiny. The Polignacs came from Auvergne, where popular sayings witnessed to their great importance. . . . ' If the King came to an end, who would then be king 1 M. de Polignac. If God came to an end, who would then be God ? M. de Polignac, that is, if he was willing.' This ancestral pride," M. Berryer added, " was not the only danger which beset him. I must admit he was a visionary, and believed himself the object of Memoirs of a Royalist 137 supernatural Divine communications. . . . This is how I came to know it. M. Mandaroux-Vertamy, a distinguished member of the Paris Bar, was also from Auvergne. He laboured there to carry my first election, and, immediately after it, presented me to the President of the Council. I had the kindest reception. Prince Polignac spoke to me of my father and of myself in terms the remembrance of which yet moves me, and offered me the Ministry of Justice. I refused the offer on the ground of my political inexperience. ' There are some men,' he replied, ' who do not need experience.' This expression in his mouth pained me much, for I felt that he referred to himself. I was about to protest against such a view, when he added, 'You think me rash, but do not like to say so. Then ! I shall have more confidence in you than you have in me. Well ! I should not perhaps have strength to carry all through successfully, if I was alone. But I will confide to you a matter that I have only let very few friends know. God assists me daily, by communications, as to the source of which I cannot be mistaken.' " At these words," said M. Berryer, " a perfect terror seized me. I saw at once the ruin of the Monarchy, and the era of revolutions reopened. I muttered a few incoherent words, and retired precipitately." ' An anecdote about certain expressions used by M. Thiers the next day is also worth perusal. He had come suddenly into the Bishop of Orleans' room, who was closeted with M. de Montalembert and M. de Fal- loux, when the latter said to him : ' " Will you allow me to express freely to you a feeling which has haunted me since yesterday ? You have shown us how the Revolu- tion of July was due to a misunderstanding, and M. Berryer showed us that Charles x. no more desired to destroy public liberty than the Duke of Orleans to snatch the crown from him. Well ! Ought France always to continue the victim of mere mistakes ? Will you consent to say publicly what you have told us confidentially 1 ? . . . Do you not fear that one day your country may write on your tomb : ' M. Thiers, who saw clearly all our ills, but would heal none ? ' " ' " No ! no ! " he replied, with an accent of profound resolution ; " my country will never appeal to my patriotism in vain. ... I am a Monarchist as much as you are, if in a somewhat different fashion. I am convinced of the superiority of the monarchical system, and I 138 Memoirs of a Royalist am especially convinced that the Republican system and the French temperament are incompatible. When nothing more is needed than that we should come to an understanding about small matters, you will see that I will do for Monarchy what you have already seen me do for religion in conjunction with my venerated friend the Bishop of Orleans." ' With these words M. Thiers rose and pressed the hand of the Bishop, who was moved to tears. I am convinced Thiers at that moment was sincere. There are various proofs of it. His conviction and language never varied till the terrible year 1871. From that time a visible change came over his mind.' M. de Falloux was a member of the Academy, and in 1857 had to be presented to the Emperor, because since its foundation that institution counted amongst its privileges the right of demanding an audience for such a purpose, without the formality of applying to a minister. It was its place to inform the Chief of the State concerning each nomination, and these customs had been carefully adhered to through all the various regimes which had successively governed France. Napoleon in. liked these audiences, and he spoke on such occasions exceptionally well, if not taken suddenly aback. When in the preceding year he received the Due de Broglie who in his speech had praised the coup-d'etat of Napoleon I. he said : ' I hope, Monsieur le Due, that your grandson will speak of the 2nd of December as you have spoken of the Dixhuit Brumaire.' M. de Falloux was presented by M. Brifont * in the usual formal terms. But the Emperor interrupted him, saying, in a very gracious manner, ' Oh ! I know M. de Falloux very well,' and after a short pause added the evidently pre- 1 During the Revolution of 1830, when so many persons of different views assumed the tricolour for protection, M. Brifont refused to wear it. A work- ing-man meeting him in the street addressed him with, ' Citizen ! why do you not wear the badge of freedom ? ' To which he promptly replied, ' Why, my friend, to show that I am free, to be sure.' Memoirs of a Royalist 139 meditated words : ' M. de Falloux, public disorder brought us together; I regret that order has not re-united us.' His visitor had it in his mind to reply, ' Sire, this is not order ; ' but repressing it, he answered simply, ' I have always retained a grateful recollection of M. le President's goodness to me.' Three years later it was our author's duty to go and announce to the Emperor the election of Pere Lacordaire, who had dared from the pulpit to utter a most scathing denunciation of despotism. He therefore anticipated some Imperial epigram when he officially asked the sanction of Lacordaire's election in the place of M. de Tocqueville. The Emperor merely said : ' " I sanction the election with pleasure, although I will not dis- guise from you that it appears to me a somewhat strange one, which has not been made with any intention of pleasing me." ' Thereupon followed a long and interesting colloquy, wherein M. de Falloux protested against the Imperial policy, the Emperor defending himself on the ground of the diffi- culties which surrounded him, and ending with the words : ' " I have been pleased to see you and to hear what you say." ' He then squeezed my hand sadly and kindly as I withdrew. In the course of the long conversation the Emperor appeared oppressed with melancholy, and hardly disguised the painful docility of his obedience to the secret difficulties he had referred to without ex- plaining.' M. de Falloux had no further relations with the Emperor. He was occupied with the interests of religion and legitimacy, and broken-hearted at the loss of his most valued friends, Lacordaire, De la Moriciere, Berryer, and Montalembert, immediately after which war was declared, and the Empire fell The elections for the National Assembly took place during the armistice, and were the expression of the supreme need of peace which was felt by the nation. The fact that 140 Memoirs of a Royalist Gambetta and the Left advocated a continuance of the war was probably the cause of their electoral defeat, which would have been yet more crushing had not the Right spontaneously given them a place on their lists. The Assembly, though strongly conservative as a whole, nevertheless included men of very divergent views. . Yet more unfortunate was the ascendency which M. Thiers was universally allowed to exercise as the great opponent of war, and the principal negotiator of a peace. A great question debated amongst the Conservatives was whether before the opening of the Assembly, and before the signing of the treaty of peace, the Monarchy should or should not be proclaimed. The idea was rejected, because it was thought that to recall the Bourbons while foreign armies were encamped on French territory, to cause portions of France to be signed away by a descendant of Louis xiv., and to bring about a third Restoration with the escort of a third invading army, would be to do the greatest dis-service to the Monarchy. As it was, the Republic had the respon- sibility it had voluntarily assumed ; Paris was on the eve of the Commune, and the great centres were in the hands of criminals or idiots. The Monarchy, therefore, was postponed, and M. de Falloux approved of its postponement. An interregnum was thought necessary by his friends now, as it had so foolishly been thought necessary by Changarnier on the eve of the coup d'&at. It was naturally resolved to consult the Royal Family on this question, and M. de Saint- Victor, deputy from the Rhone, was despatched to the Count de Chambord, from whom he returned with a gracious adhesion to the provisional pro- gramme of Bordeaux. The Due Decazes brought a similar adhesion from the Orleans Princes, but without any distinct engagement with respect to the fusion. Both Legitimists and Organists were anxious to know thoroughly the ideas Memoirs of a Royalist 141 and wishes of the Due d'Aumale, for whom his young nephews felt a great deference. The Count de Chambord expressed no disinclination to go to England to see the Count de Paris, but the idea excited much opposition on the part of some Legitimists. 1 The Due d'Audiffiret Pasquier was one of the most successful of those who sought to bring about a fusion, and he had then staying with him both the Due d'Aumale and the Prince de Joinville. Altogether it was agreed that the provisional programme should be adhered to, and that no sudden action should be taken by any Koyalist. We need hardly remind our readers that M. Thiers warmly supported the postponement. M. de Falloux does not express the opinion that the ' liberator of the territory ' could have done better than he did, but he was none the less shocked and somewhat startled by certain peculiarities of manner and conduct on his part. He several tunes irritated the members of the Commission by narrating the compliments he had received from Bismarck, which were so excessive they might well have been ironical. He also expressed a preference for forfeiting territory rather than money, saying, ' One may get back provinces, but one can never get back money,' a contention which laid him open to a really stinging rejoinder. 2 He was also madly anxious to return to Paris, and it was due to him that the Assembly removed to Versailles instead of to Orleans. He was not less blind and obstinate with respect to the preparation for the Commune. It was announced to him, and people saw it rapidly approaching, while he remained placid and smiling at the Quai d'Orsay. Then the same change took place which had occurred in 1848. He passed at a bound from confidence to panic, and rushed to Versailles, which then seemed to him all too near, without 1 Vol. ii. p. 468. 2 Vol. ii. p. 450. 142 Memoirs of a Royalist taking any precautions, or leaving any orders behind him, and it was no thanks to him but to MM. Buffet, Daru, and others that Mount Valerien was occupied, and so made able to save Versailles, and France. Nevertheless, on one most important occasion, as we before observed, Thiers showed as truly patriotic a spirit of self-abnegation as the Count de Chambord manifested his utter political incapacity. When the Assembly removed to Versailles, M. de Falloux, on the 1st of July, took up his residence there, 1 and on that day received a visit from two secretaries of the Assembly. ' " You have just come in time," they said joyously ; " the Comte de Paris and the Due de Chartres dine with Thiers to-day, and go to Belgium on Monday, where the Comte de Chambord is waiting for them." Resisting their pressing invitation to be present, they promised him to return next day and tell him the result. ' They kept their word, and M. de Meaux, who came first, showed by his radiant appearance that all had gone well. ' It was the Monarchy that was the host yesterday in the house of the Republic. The Princes stood in the middle of the drawing- room, and the guests were presented to them by M. Thiers, who was no longer the master of the house. During dinner and all the evening nothing was talked of but the reconciliation of the Royal Family. The Princes freely announced their intention of going to Bruges, where the Comte de Chambord resided, and every one warmly expressed good wishes. ' " And how did M. Thiers speak? " " Excellently ! exceUently ! He seemed enchanted with the success of the two Princes, and spoke 1 M. de Falloux, on account of his health, absolutely needed quiet, and this he obtained in a large house with a fine garden in the Rue de Satory, belonging to the Baroness de Freville, who had lent it to the Bishop of Orleans, whose mode of life just suited the Count's infirmities. The Bishop went to bed at nine and rose at five, going to work in his study before six as soon as he had said his mass. Then the door-bell was muffled, and no one could come in who was not provided with a key. M. de Falloux, of course, had one, and was thus at his ease, being able, as he says, ' without causing any disturbance, to introduce into this little Orleans diocese almost worldly ways not coming home till ten o'clock at night, and not getting up till seven or eight in the morning. ' Memoirs of a Royalist 143 in the highest terms of the head of the house of France. Some one having said to him, ' Nothing is wanting at your dinner but the Comte de Chambord's presence,' he answered with vivacity, ' M. le Comte de Chambord would have been most welcome, and I do not despair of having that honour.' " The Monarchists had one day full of happiness ; on the next, in the twinkling of an eye, all their hopes were over- thrown by the following frigid letter, written in the third person, and addressed to the Count de Paris : ' " M. le Comte de Chambord has been happy to learn the desire of the Comte de Paris to be received of him. ' " M. le Comte de Chambord is in France. The moment then has arrived to explain himself on certain questions hitherto reserved. ' " He hopes that nothing he shall say will be an obstacle to that reunion of the house of Bourbon which has always been his most cherished desire. ' " Nevertheless loyalty demands that the Princes, his cousins, should be informed beforehand, and M. le Comte de Chambord believes it to be his duty to ask M. le Comte de Paris to defer his visit a little till France has been made fully acquainted with his intentions. He would have wished to have received the visit of his cousin at Chambord, did he not think it undesirable to prolong his stay at the present moment. ' " On leaving Chambord he will go to Bruges, there to remain from the 8th to the 14th of July. '"BLOis, 2 July 1871."' It was impossible, of course, for the Princes to refrain from making known the sudden obstacle which, from no fault of theirs, put a stop to their journey; but they did this with the greatest discretion. No one in the Assembly would at first believe the news, crying, ' It is impossible ' ; but they sooner or later learned that before going to Chambord the Count had passed four- and-twenty hours in Paris, where he had visited certain monuments and received a few friends in the strictest incog- nito. Amongst them was the Marquis de la Ferte, President 144 Memoirs of a Royalist of the Royalist Committee, appointed by the Count. He was a man who not only would have risked his life at the slightest sign from the King, but one who had repeatedly sacrificed his own sentiments with the most passive obedience. Never- theless on this occasion his perception of the danger of the Count's projects made him resist, and, for the first time, gave expression to his loyal alarm. Having exhausted his ob- jections, he refused to remain any longer the official represen- tative of the retrograde policy which was about to be initiated by the unexpected proclamation concerning the white flag. The Prince became enraged; his faithful servant vainly insisted and entreated, and they then separated never to see each other again. M. de la Fert6 at once went to Versailles to the Bishop of Orleans and M. de Falloux. ' They anxiously questioned him, and he frankly answered us, and while he told his tale great tears fell from his eyes tears which spoke much, for he was a large, powerful man, by disposition and inheritance essentially a soldier.' x The Royalists in consternation quickly chose a Committee of Three to represent them to the Count men likely to influence him by their personal character as well as their position the Due de la Rochefoucauld-Bisaccia, the Comte Maille, and the Vicomte de Gontaut-Biron. They were com- missioned to say 'The signing of the Manifesto would be an abdication, and the certain destruction of a monarchical restoration.' The Bishop of Orleans was also induced to go. He had superintended the religious education of the Prince as a 1 He had proved this in 1848, during the insurrection of June. Then a young garde mobile, scarcely sixteen years of age, had jumped upon a barricade to capture the red flag, and had fallen struck by a ball. Seeing M. de la Ferte spring forward to take his place, he exclaimed, ' Ah ! you are in luck, you big fellow of the National Guard ; you will get the flag. ' ' No, my boy, I shall not ; ' and taking him in his arms, he put the flag in his hand, and descended with his double load before the insurgents had time to fire again. Memoirs of a Royalist 145 child, and had continued to correspond with him. It was hoped that religious considerations as represented by him might have influence even if political interests were in- sufficient so to do. At the same time M. Laurentie, almost eighty years old, set out from Paris, and from Versailles M. de Cazenove de Pradines, who had so distinguished himself at the battle of Patay, defending the flag of De Charette. All efforts were vain. The Count received every repre- sentation made to him with courtesy and calmness, and a confidence which did not admit of discussion, seeming to rest upon some supernatural assistance. Even his own intimates joined in the attempt to move him, but he remained in- flexible, and would not even agree to give time for the Royalists of France to make their feelings known to him. M. Laurentie returned in grief, and wrote, ' We have lost in twenty-four hours the fruits of twenty years of prudence.' The Bishop of Orleans, on his return to Versailles, sadly exclaimed, 'I have just been present at an intellectual phenomenon without example. Never was seen a more absolute moral blindness.' The well-known fatal Manifesto from Chambord immedi- ately appeared : ' The Bishop of Orleans received the manifesto as we were rising from table. We read it with inexpressible sadness, without saying a word. M. Vitel arrived a few minutes afterwards. He exclaimed, " Oh ! blood of Charles x. ! " and remained long silent, his head between his hands. M. Saint-Marc G6rardin soon joined us and was no less concerned. "We were so happy," he said, "at being at last reconciled and working together for the regeneration of our country. What now is to become of France, and what will be her destiny ? " ' It was with reluctance and hesitation that M. de Falloux again visited M. Thiers, but he was very cordially received. ' " Well ! " said the latter, " M. le Comte de Chambord conducts his affairs in a singular way ! As for me, I did not desire the return VOL. I. K 146 Memoirs of a Royalist of the Orleans Princes. I thought it rash and premature. It was the Count and his friends who forced my hand and brought them to Versailles, where they had success after success with the army and Assembly. And now it is the Count himself who breaks with his cousins and throws everything out of the window. People accuse me of wanting to found the Republic. No one can say that now ; no one can deny that the founder of the French Republic is the Comte de Chambord." ' Thiers was naturally amiable and unaffected, and though excessively vain, by no means touchy, on account of his excessive self-confidence. Neither he, nor his wife, nor Mile. Dosne changed, when he was the head of the State, any of their habits of life, which were not only simple, but more parsimonious than luxurious. Nevertheless he seems to have had an extreme love of money, which he allowed to be seen in a painful manner with respect to the rebuilding of his house destroyed by the Communists. The Commission appointed for the purpose proposed to spend 1,000,000 francs, but he demanded the absurd sum of 1,600,000, and is even said to have enumerated amongst his losses objects which he well knew were safely hidden away. As he verged more and more towards the Left in politics, he seems to have indulged, even at council meetings, in profane and obscene jokes, such as he had never been known to make before. M. de Falloux contrasts him with Guizot, much to the advantage of the latter, terminating his comparison * as follows : ' M. Guizot died at an advanced age with calm serenity, surrounded by relatives and friends of many years' standing, and worthy of the grateful homage of a party he had never deserted. M. Thiers attained about the same age, but he died almost suddenly in bitterness of heart, and in the midst of intrigues; regretfully abandoned by old friends who despaired of his return to them, and given up either to secret enemies, or to new friends who made a profit even of his bier.' 1 VoL ii. pp. 544-546. Memoirs of a Royalist 147 The Government which succeeded that of Thiers was as modest and unpretending as it was earnest, if mistaken. M. de Falloux being invited to breakfast by M. Ernoul, the Chancellor and Minister of Justice, to meet the Due de Broglie and other ministers, found him in a little lodging in Place Hoche, and the cook brought in her dishes from the adjacent kitchen. In a letter to a friend he writes : ' This present Government is quite touching in its simplicity when one is intimately acquainted with it. Each member lives samfafon in the most friendly way, without carriages, without servants, with- out disputes, in poor lodgings, with breakfasts of 25 sous, and all this accompanied by a very passion to do good.' The Due d'Audiffret-Pasquier and the Due Decazes were still ardently anticipating a monarchical restoration. General Changarnier also continued to cherish his illusions, saying, ' If only I had been trusted in 1851, we should have had the Monarchy sixteen years ago, and lost neither Alsace nor Lorraine.' Every one understood that at last the Count de Chambord had distinctly accepted the tricolour, when came the well-known fatal letter of Salzburg of the 27th October 1873. Its effect was once more decisive and immediate, and it is instructive to learn 1 from M. de Falloux that there were not two opinions about it amongst the Koyalists indeed the most ardent ones were the most vehement in their expres- sions. The Due de la Rochefoucauld-Bisaccia, recognising that the return of the Count had become for the present impossible, proposed that the Prince de Joinville should become Lieutenant-General of the kingdom. This the Prince declined unless chosen for that position by both the Assembly and the Count, and the Septennate of Marshal Macmahon was decreed. No one seems to have been more surprised at the result 1 See vol. ii. p. 580. 148 Memoirs of a Royalist of his letter than the Count de Chambord himself. His astonishment was so great that he at once came to France incognito to struggle against the definite appointment of any provisional chief. He came to Versailles, and asked to see Marshal Macmahon confidentially, who replied that if the Count was hi any danger, he was ready to defend him at the peril of his life, but that his obligations to the Assembly forbade him to acquiesce in any secret interview. The Count saw but a few friends, and seemed full of care, and almost irritable. His anxieties became so poignant that he waited hi the courtyard, at the foot of the statue of Louis xiv., and there heard with the bitterest despair that almost all the members of the extreme Right had voted the Septennate. The next day he returned to Paris, saw, hidden in a carriage, the march-past of some soldiers at the Invalides, and left France at once and for ever. On him M. de Falloux passes what we deem an equitable judgment, and this although he professes an entire devotion to him, and the opinion that his most indisputable faults were due rather to mistaken judgment and bad advice than to any defective intention.. ' M. le Comte de Chambord had, as it seems to me, three lines of conduct, either of which he had the right to choose. If he believed that the white flag was indispensable to the Monarchy and did not fatally excite French prejudices, he might have raised it during one of our revolutions, and, boldly taking Henry iv. for his model, have led it to victory and death. If he had not that absolute faith in his country or in himself, how could he refuse the compromise of powdering the tricolour with fleur-de-lys, thus making plain by the juxtaposition of these symbols the fact that the two parties, the divisions between which had so divided and weakened France, had become reconciled '\ How could he continue to speak as if he believed in nothing but the magic of the white flag, and yet remain inactive as if he believed in the invincible might of the tricolour? Finally, if at last convinced of the true situation of our unhappy country he recognised the necessity of a painful concession which he Memoirs of a Royalist 149 had no right to impose on himself, he should have abdicated. A dis- interested act never dishonoured or lowered any one. Abdication has often been an honour to a king and salvation to a people. A double abdication had prematurely placed the crown upon Henry v.'s head, and all the Monarchists had regarded that act of his grandfather and uncle as a generous submission to cruel but inevitable necessities. But to frankly adopt no one of these three lines of conduct, but to mingle them so as to obtain neither the advantage nor the dignity of any one of the three ; to lead men to expect concessions and then suddenly withdraw them on the eve of a decisive action ; to come near enough to success to render it a possibility, and then, emboldened by the proximity of victory, compromise and destroy everything by an incomprehensible want of foresight, or by a rash precipitation in grasping at a prize which a little patience would have brought to his hand all this is inexplicable conduct which, to our misfortune and the world's amazement, undid the best combined attempts at monarchi- cal restoration and national prosperity ! ' M. de Falloux died in 1885, living long enough to taste the full bitterness of the degradation which the Radicals had brought on his country, without being consoled by any evidence that better days might be at last in store for it, though his very last words are full of pious and patriotic hope. The present prospects of his country may well inspire his surviving friends with fear and anxiety. The position France now occupies in Europe is inferior indeed to that of 1860 under the third Napoleon, that of 1840 under Louis Philippe, or that of 1820 under the Restoration ! In concluding our notice of this remarkable book we would wish to call attention both to the encouragement and the warning it holds out to ourselves. The happy continuity of our political evolution renders it probable that we may continue successfully to avoid sudden and radical changes. Nevertheless, the wider our democracy becomes, the more evident is the danger which may arise from the popularity of some gifted speaker like Mr. Glad- stone or Lamartine, capable of suddenly breaking with the most cherished convictions, and carrying the masses to their 150 Memoirs of a Royalist ruin on a torrent of baneful eloquence. We have but to look across the Channel to recognise the fatal effects of any sudden and complete rupture of the conditions of Church and State. But the near approach to success which was achieved by the band of true patriots of various political views who acted with M. de Falloux, may well encourage us, more happily situated as we are, to renewed and persevering efforts in stemming the tide of revolution, and in guiding the ship of England's greatness through calm waters in peaceful and continuous progress. STATE ORGANISATION. A PHYSIOLOGICAL PARALLEL. A COMMUNITY or nation has often been compared with a living creature the ' social organism ' with the ' ani- mal organism ' and, within limits, the comparison is a good one. A complex society, such as our own, needs, as the animal needs, its organs of prehension, secretion, and nutri- tion, its defensive weapons, its circulating and respiratory system, its organs of special perception and its means of general co-ordination to effect the harmonious action of its several parts. In other words, such a society requires a mul- titude of its members to apply themselves to the production and manipulation of nutritive material ; it needs that others should be devoted to the defence of the community ; while others, again, by exclusively concerning themselves with the distribution of the various commodities, become its veritable organs of circulation. A community of the kind also needs that a certain number of its units should occupy themselves with the acquisition of one or another kind of special know- ledge (thus making themselves, as it were, the society's ' or- gans of sense ') ; while those set apart for the machinery of government may be compared with the 'nervous system,' which is the mechanism by which the actions of an animal's various organs are brought into harmony and its energies simultaneously directed, now to one and now to another end. But in spite of the truth which there is in this analogy, it is nevertheless a very incomplete and even a dangerously mis- leading one. For, in the animal organism, it is the com- 152 State Organisation plex whole which is the real unity, and the several organs and sets of organs composing it, though for convenience they may be considered apart, have yet no really separate life. The end and object of each organ's existence is the life of that whole of which such organ forms a portion. It is the living animal which feels and knows, and not its various separate parts. In the social organism, on the other hand, true unity exists only in the several parts (in each man and woman) and not in the complex whole, which is a unity only analogically and in a subordinate degree. Moreover, the community exists, as a community, for the convenience and service of its component members : their welfare constitutes the end and object of its existence. It is the individual, not the complex community, which knows, feels, suffers, and wills. Much more apt and obvious than the foregoing compari- son is that which may be made between human societies t/ and certain animal communities; as, for instance, those of ants. It is not only ' the sluggard ' but also the most rapid and ' advanced ' of levellers who may profitably ' consider her ways.' Wonderful is the amount of social diversity which may exist between the inhabitants of the same nest. In addition to various important distinctions due to age and sex, there may be two or three classes of what are distin- guished as 'neuter insects.' There may be soldiers and workers ; there may be some kept in strict seclusion for the secretion of food ; and there may even be foreign slaves. In such a complex insect society the life and condition of each member of each class has direct relations with the lives and conditions of all the other classes of the community. It is obvious that if we were to take any single ant we could not comprehend the true nature of the creature by itself, how- ever perfectly we might become acquainted with every detail of its anatomy and physiology. In order to comprehend its true nature we should require to knoAv its various complex State Organisation 153 relations to the other individuals, and classes of individuals, of that community of which it was a member. Let us make use of this truth in considering how man should be regarded. He, too, is a social animal. Only by very rare exception do men live otherwise than in social communities of a more or less complex kind, and such conditions, however induced, have consequences which are more or less hereditary. In addition to the visible characters and easily perceptible powers of each man, there are most important invisible characters and latent tendencies due to social interdependencies the various complex relations in which the various members of the same community stand one to another and to the whole. There is yet a third comparison which may be profitably instituted between the various conditions of human society and different kinds of animal life. Certain animals are said to be higher #nd more perfect than certain others. In what does this superiority consist ? It consists in the fact that the higher animals have their several active powers or ' functions ' of life, subserved by a greater number of distinct parts or organs than is the case in lower animals. In the lowest in the scale, the same particle of living jelly, of which the whole body consists, takes in the minute morsels it feeds on, at a temporary depression made at any point of its surface, and there digests them. It also effects gaseous exchange, and diffuses the nutritive particles gained in other words, effects a true respiration and circulation, and all this without any organs at all: the one particle does everything. As we ascend in the animal scale, however, we find each of these processes served by an increasingly distinct number of parts, till we come to creatures like ourselves, which are said to have alimentary, circulating, and other 'systems,' because, instead of each function having merely its 'organ,' it has come to have a whole group of correlated organs appropriated to the performance of each function. 154 State Organisation Now, certain human societies are said to be of a higher character than certain others on account of analogous dis- tinctions. A savage tribe of the lowest kind consists of units approximately similar and equal. Each man is at the same time hunter, warrior, manufacturer, and merchant, and he forms for himself his implements and weapons. As we ascend in the social scale, we find communities divided into warriors, husbandmen, and priests, and so on, till we come to the complex fixed castes of Hindostan, and ultimately to the still more varied, though relatively unstable, groups of modern European society. Thus a further carrying out of the principle of ' the subdivision of labour ' accompanies both social and physiological progress. It follows that class dis- tinctions must, if we are not to retrograde, hereafter increase in number, and our social condition become, in a certain sense, an increasingly divided one. It is this very com- plexity which distinguishes a highly developed community or ' State,' from a mere barbarous horde. THE STATE. The various individual men and women who together constitute any given community or nation may be regarded from points of view which are indefinitely numerous. We may regard them merely as so many distinct material objects; as so many living organisms; as so many rational creatures, etc. etc., according to the nature of the inquiry towards which our attention may be directed. But just as a nest of ants consists of distinct groups of creatures, each mem- ber of which stands in various complex relations to all the other members of the nest, so much more in every highly developed human society are its various human units inter-related in a more complex manner to each other and to the whole. Obvi- ously we may direct our attention exclusively to these rela- tions, and consider the members of the nest or of the human State Organisation 155 society, not as so many separate or merely juxtaposed units, but as units possessing such varied and complex inter-rela- tions of different kinds inter-relations which constitute the economy of the nest or of the nation. Moreover, it is the very circumstance that the highest existing human communities or nations are made up of units thus complexly inter-related which constitutes each such community a ' State ' ; and one State differs from another, and is of more or less highly organised character, according as these inter-relations are more numerous and more complex as the principle of the division of labour is in it carried further. How much more complex are the conditions of lettered life now than they were in the middle ages ! Then, almost every man who wished to devote himself to science or to literature had to assume the monk's cowl, or at least to enter the ecclesiastical state. From this relatively undiffer- entiated condition have now emerged the various classes of the legal and medical professions, and of the great republic of letters. The expression, ' the State,' then, denotes certain peculiar conditions or modes of existence of the members of a community, and to study such conditions is to investigate the life of ' the State.' A correct appreciation of what is meant by the expression ' the State ' is in our day a matter of very great importance. We have seen of late, both in France and Germany, some very regrettable consequences of a wide-spread misconception respecting it, and a restless and aggressive 'minority amongst ourselves is constantly endeavouring to diffuse a similar mis- conception in our own country. It is curious, too, that the very men who cry out most vehemently against ' metaphysical abstractions,' and who profess to occupy themselves exclu- sively with what is ' positive ' and tangible, are just those who most favour an error which consists in the worship of a mental abstraction as if it were a material reality. Through this error 156 State Organisation some men come to regard the State not only as a reality, but as a sort of God. It seems hardly to occur to them to ask the simple question, ' What is the State ? ' Yet ' the State/ as such, is a mere mental conception. Destroy the individuals and you destroy the State, as it has no existence whatever apart from the existence of the members of any given com- munity, save as an abstract idea. When this simple truth becomes generally known and appreciated, men will be less ready to prostrate themselves before a military despotism or the ignorant and intolerant rule of Gommis Voyageurs. But though the State, as such, has only this ideal exist- ence, yet common-sense assures us it has nevertheless some sort of reality. What, then, is this reality what is its true nature ? Its reality consists in just those inter-related char- acters and conditions of the individual men and women of a highly developed community which bind them up into a quasi-organic whole. In such individuals the State has its true and real existence. It is like the term 'Humanity,' which denotes what in itself, as humanity, has only an ideal existence, but which, none the less, exists really in certain qualities common to all individual human beings. There- fore, though these social characteristics of ourselves and of our fellows are not to be worshipped, neither, by any means, are they to be despised. To the inter-related conditions of our human environment we are indebted for the use of language, and, consequently, for the practical existence of that reason which, though innate in us, yet needs the em- ployment of some form of language for its development. This initial debt is so obvious that we all recognise it at once ; but some of us are too apt to forget how continually we remain indebted to our social surroundings throughout the whole of our existence here not only for the satisfaction of our material wants, but for the better guidance of our lives, which are hemmed in on every side by minute State Organisation 157 social restrictions, as was the Giant Gulliver by Lilliputian threads. But the error of idolising the State would be far less abjectionable but for another error which commonly accom- panies and intensifies it, namely, the error of confounding the State ' with ' the Government.' That the two are not identical is manifest, since a Government exists, or should exist, for the benefit of ' the State,' which it nevertheless may ruin, as the Spanish ' State ' was ruined by the despotism of bhe Charleses and Philips, and the French 'State' by the Bourbons, especially by him who gave to this political error epigrammatic expression in the oft-quoted ' L'6tat c'est moi.' But not only does every worthy Government exist for the Sfood of ' the State,' but ' the State ' itself, to be worthy of respect and devotion, should be one in which the various social inter-relations in which it has its being are inter-rela- tions beneficial to its individual members. Such a 'State' (and a Government which is serviceable to it) justly claims the reverent obedience and support of all its individual members, since our duties to our fellow-men not only regard them in their individual capacity simply, but also in their related aspect as members of a State and subjects of a Government. But our State duty is really in all cases our duty to individual men and women ; stih 1 as it concerns them under certain relations only, we may, for convenience, speak of our duty to the State, although the expression requires to be used cautiously and intelligently, in order to avoid the danger of being so misled by it as to run the risk of sacri- ficing realities to abstractions in the manner in which we have seen them sacrificed in both France and Germany. THE GOVERNMENT. ' A State,' then, justly demands our admiration in so far as the complexly inter-related social condition it symbolises is one 158 State Organisation beneficial to the individual men and women of the community, and 'a Government,' instead of being identical with ' the State/ exists or should exist but for the service and benefit of the latter, and therefore for the service and benefit of the indivi- duals which compose it. What then is and must be the best form of Government ? Evidently that in which those persons bear sway who by their knowledge, vigour, and goodwill are best calculated to rule. Moreover, since reason shows us that the true end of the existence of beings possessed of intelligence and free-will must be the ordering of conduct according to reason, it follows that the one important thing in any com- munity is that its ethical spirit should be good. Let that only be the case, and political forms must be comparatively unimportant, for then no one class can suffer from social injustice. Evidently at different epochs and in different countries different forms of Government have been and will be relatively 'best.' But since every 'State' by its very nature consists of beings inter-related in very various ways, it is plain that a really good Government must have due regard to those various inter-relations in other words, that all the various classes of a complex community must have their due influence on, must somehow be represented in, the Government of such community. Evidently, therefore, no imperial autocrat, no territorial or mercantile aristocracy, no uncultured bourgeoisie, and no ignorant populace, can ever constitute a really good Government, however by some acci- dent any one of them may be relatively good in comparison with some still worse system which it may have displaced. And ' displaced ' every system is sure sooner or later to be, for there is yet one further comparison between the social organism and the animal organism which should be adverted to when considering the question of Government. Change, paradoxical as it may sound, seems to be the condi- tion of existence for all things visible. Though astronomy State Organisation 159 has deprived the sun of its supposed diurnal revolution, it has revealed the startling fact that it is rushing with head- long velocity towards a star in the constellation Hercules, carrying all its planets and their conscious and unconscious inhabitants with it. Thus also the paths of the planets round the sun, which have been taken as very types of sta- bility, are never twice the same ; no part of any planet's path is ever a second time traversed. But if the inanimate world is thus ever changing, still more so is the world of life. Every living organism may be compared with a fountain retaining both an outward appearance and a certain reality of permanence, and yet composed of ever fleeting, never returning atoms. In the animal, to cease to change is indeed to cease to live. Not only must there be a continued inter- nal renovation, but a series of varied internal modifications must take place in correspondence with the constantly occurring external changes in the natural objects which sur- round it and which constitute what is called its environment. Moreover, every organism undergoes a process of develop- ment from the egg or germ to the fully matured condition, and these changes form a continued and inevitable advance with no possibility of retrogression. In the great process of specific evolution, also, ever new forms of life have from time to time emerged. This the rocky record of the world proves to us : but nothing shows us that any form of life which has once passed away ever reappears, and all analogy is against the possibility of its reappearance. It is to a certain extent the same with social organisms and their Governments. No community can permanently keep itself, as China and Japan so long kept themselves, isolated from the influence of the world about them. Each has sooner or later to meet the action of environing social organisms, and (like each living animal) either to adjust its internal changes to their action or die. It is true that 160 State Organisation a community has not, as an animal has, the principle within it of its own development and dissolution, for true unity is not in it as a whole, but only hi its several members. Nevertheless, practically, each has sooner or later to succumb to hostile influences, external or internal; and though some, like China and Egypt, may form States existing for thousands of years, yet we now see China changed and changing, while ancient Egypt can scarcely be said to live but in its monuments and mummies. Even in the animal world the differences of life's duration are hardly less in pro- portion; for, while many organisms live but a few hours, others (as the great salamander and various fishes) have no as yet ascertained limit, not only to their existence, but even to their growth. Every healthy State, then, must a priori be expected to continuaUy undergo a series of small changes, and it neces- sarily follows that there must be corresponding Govern- mental changes. But there are changes of two very different kinds there are the changes of healthy evolution and the changes of incipient dissolution. There are changes which tend to preserve the organism, or the society Conservative changes and there are those of a destructive character. We have every reason to hope that in a social organism such as our own the former may be promoted and the latter avoided, so as to preserve our national existence for an indefinitely prolonged period. It is in the furtherance of such necessary changes that true Liberalism consists, while the avoidance of deleterious and destructive modifications constitutes real Conservatism. It is as absurd to represent Conservatism as opposed to all change as it is to represent Liberalism as opposed to all conservation. True principles underlie and support both our political parties, and the exist- ence of such parties is a necessary condition of healthy national life. More than this ; there are ' Conservative ' and State Organisation 161 Liberal ' elements in every animal organism, and it is only by the proper working and due alternation of these opposed tendencies that any living animal is able to continue to hold ^ts own in that unceasing, however unconscious, struggle for 3xistence in which we, as communities, as individual men md even merely as animals necessarily live. " SOCIAL MEMORY. The life of every healthy and vigorous animal consists mainly in the repetition of actions which have become habitual. As soon as any creature of the highest class comes into the world at birth, the chill of the air upon its skin sxcites an inspiration, followed by an expiration, and this alternating action continues till its last sigh ends the series. Long before birth (as may be readily seen in the hen's egg) commences the beautiful system of the heart's contractions, which thence continues unceasingly throughout its life. These conspicuous instances may serve as types of a vast multitude of reiterated minor actions which, noted or un- noticed, take place in every system of organs, digestive, ex- cretory, muscular, and nervous, and as well as circulatory and respiratory. But not only are there this series of minute organic repetitions ; the whole life of each creature is made up of returning cycles of daily actions and, in the longer- lived creatures, of returning cycles of annual action also. The bird aroused at dawn plumes its feathers, seeks the pond or brook, and pursues its insect food or vegetarian repast at approximatively similar hours. With the advent of spring comes its wonderful nest-building and its song, while hot July brings silence back to every grove. The lives of many insects present us far more wonderfully complex in- stances of reiterated instinctive actions, and in such creatures as the ant and the bee there are the repeated actions of the community as well as of the individual. Instinct does not, VOL. I. L 1 62 State Organisation however, entirely govern the lives of animals. Many of them have such cognitive power as enables them slightly to vary their actions when they find themselves exposed to new con- ditions. Birds will more or less vary the materials and form of their nests according to circumstances. Woodpeckers as in the vicinity of Buenos Ayres will learn to live without trees to peck. Parrots may learn to prey on sheep ; and it may be said, generally, that the higher the organisation of any animal the less is it the obedient slave of routine, and the greater its power of adaptation to new conditions. Evi- dently, without this power a race must become extinct. When, as has so often been the case, some slight local change in the land's level enables a beast of prey to enter upon an as yet unvisited area, changed habits must come in the crea- tures on which it feeds, or they will cease to be. Every one knows that in spots visited for the first time, animals have been found quite tame, and devoid of fear of man ; but this tameness soon gives place to a well-merited distrust. But changed vital actions will ensue and must ensue under new conditions, of which no note is or can be taken. For a person accustomed to live on one diet, his digestive organs, with all their minute glands, make habitual responses to the wonted daily demand upon them. Let that diet be changed, and corresponding changes in such responses must also ensue, and a slight constitutional disturbance often accompanies such modifications of bodily activity. Again, let the hand for the first time acquire the habit of pressing the oar, and the skin here and there responsively thickens without our desiring or being able to control such action : just as the muscles of a blacksmith's arm or a ballet-girl's leg are auto- matically enlarged by spontaneous changes in the intimate working of the bodily organism new actions being carried on by it to supply new needs. All these activities may be grouped into two sets (1) State Organisation 163 the habitual or reiterated, and (2) the occasional or new. Using language figuratively, the former may be said to be the result of a sort of unconscious organic memory, while the latter are the outcome of a sort of unconscious organic cog- nition. The due action of both these sets is obviously of absolute necessity: without the former, life could not be continued at all; without the second, it would again and again be in danger of a speedy end. Let us once more compare this necessary alternation in the life of the animal organism with that we find in the life of a social organism a community or nation. The life of every healthy and vigorous community also consists mainly hi the repetition of actions which have become habitual, and which may by analogy be called acts of social memory. But, as we have seen, the conditions of this whole material universe are such that incessantly new combinations (never absolutely reproduced, however just may be the analogy be- tween certain antecedent and later ones) are brought about within it universally from the revolutions of sideral bodies to pulsations of the protoplasm of the minutest organism. Evidently, therefore, every community which endures must be capable of varying its action and changing its internal condition to a sufficient degree to meet the demands made upon it by changes hi its external conditions. It must do this or it must perish. Deep in the nature, therefore, of every social organism, as of every animal organism, there must exist two vital tendencies a normal tendency to re- iteration or conservatism, and an occasional tendency to variation or progress ; and only by the due balance of these contrary tendencies can continued stability be maintained. Every animal, then, like every nation, has and must have in its constitution its ' Conservative ' and its ' Liberal ' party. 164 State Organisation ' ESTATES ' OF THE REALM. The error of thinking that the Queen, Lords, and Com- mons form our 'three estates' is not only far from un- common amongst readers, but also amongst writers who ought to know better, as a leading monthly Review not long ago exemplified. Yet most persons who read at all, are aware that the ' three estates ' of the French States-General were the clergy, the nobles, and the commons; and this was indeed the general political condition in Europe except where a fourth estate, a ' house of peasants/ existed beside the others. By this arrangement the ' Government ' did more or less nearly correspond with the 'State' it governed, and the various interests resulting from the complex sets of inter- relations of its diverse component members were more or less fairly, if roughly, represented. The large and important share of this representation which was, in mediaeval times, assigned to the clergy, may seem strange, and even unfair, to moderns. In reality, however, it was as just and desirable then as it would be unjust and undesirable now. This will appear plainly enough when we recollect that hi those days the clergy were necessarily the representatives not only of part of the landed interest and (as they would be now) of the spirituality, but that they also represented what then corresponded with our literary and scientific interests our art, our science, and all our higher culture. It is obvious that government by a representation of classes and interests, as opposed to a mere representation of numbers, must be the rational mode of governing a highly complex community which, unlike a mere horde, does not consist of a mass of similar units, but of very dissimilar ones, which have spon- taneously arranged themselves in various series of different sets or groups, according to the resemblances and differences existing between their varied inter-relations. State Organisation 165 In France there are still practically three governing ' estates,' though their nature has been greatly changed. At present they consist of (1) the Bourgeoisie, (2) the Peasants, and (3) the Artisans of the great towns. Evidently, by this arrangement, the culture, the refinement, and the en- lightened piety of the country are represented but very slightly ; hence the brutal and retrograde acts we have had again and again so regretfully to witness. Thanks to the tenacity with which we in England adhere to ancient forms and customs, our three ' estates ' maintain their legal, however modified, existence. Not only is this the case, but they also, to a great extent, serve to represent those far more numerous ' estates ' which time and the great process of social evolution, have actually developed. The land, the army and navy, manufactures and trade, the law, literature, science and art, are, as well as religion and the nobility, all more or less well represented by our Lords and Commons. Perhaps of all existing professions it is the medical profession which has least reason to be satisfied with the degree of representation practically afforded to it. The desirability of the representation of ' estates ' or ' in- terests,' instead of mere numbers, is indeed admitted by the actions, though not by the words, of all English Liberals except those very few who desire the present establishment of universal suffrage. Any one who opposes universal suffrage, ipso facto denies the principle of government by numbers, and affirms the right of government by classes. It is also clear that the more widely the suffrage is diffused, without the institution of some compensating check, the more hopelessly are important classes and well-deserving minorities deprived of any hope of making their influence felt by due representation. Amongst the minorities who even now suffer through this tendency, are the English Catholics ; who have lost their single 1 66 State Organisation parliamentary representative through the action of ' reform ' on Arundel. One memorable attempt was indeed not long ago made, which would have secured to them, and to other deserving interests, a share in the national representation. The attempt referred to is the unhappily defeated 'fancy franchise ' bill of the late Earl of Beaconsfield. That defeat was the more to be regretted as it was the first serious and hopeful attempt made since the passing of the great Reform Bill of 1832 to deliberately set up 'estates' against 'num- bers.' Through the blind obstinacy of the Tory party, reform was so long delayed that, when it passed, the barbarous prin- ciple of counting heads, instead of having prime regard to their contents, was introduced, and a real revolution in our fundamental constitution thereby effected. The late Con- servative leader attempted in vain somewhat to repair that fault. It is impossible to deny but that the government of mere numbers must mean, in most cases, the government of igno- rance and incapacity, and the ostracism of virtue, wisdom, knowledge, culture, and refinement of all those qualities, in fact, which best deserve the esteem of mankind in favour of a glib tongue, a winning tone, and a quick wit. By the present contention it is not meant to imply that our social and political changes of the last two centuries have not been, on the whole, a great gain, but to indicate one instance of the besetting danger of mistaking the changes of degradation and decay for those conservative changes which development makes indispensable. If the essence of a highly complex 'State' is the organisation of its units into a multitude of diverse, mutually aiding, complementary sets of bodies or organs, and if each such body is the more perfect as it itself is similarly, in a subordinate way, so constituted ; then it is manifest that whatever change tends to break down this complexity, and tends to reduce its units to a mass of simi- State Organisation 167 larly constituted and comparatively unrelated particles, must be a change of the disintegrating and destructive order. In- stead of dreading, according to vulgar prejudice, the existence of an imperium in imperio, the thing which would seem to be desirable is the greatest possible numbers and diversities of imperia, hierarchicaUy and harmoniously co-existing within one vast and majestic summum imperium. In this way the parallelism between the social and the animal organism will be complete, and the 'State' from the 'estates' of which the Government has naturaUy arisen must be the one which can give the best hope, by occasional change and predominant conservatism, of a long, healthy and beneficent existence. NOTES ON SPAIN. "VTUMEROUS are the travellers from the United States -*~' that one meets with everywhere in Italy, and many agreeable reminiscences do we entertain of such acquaint- ances made there in the year of the Vatican Council. Few and far between, however, are the Americans to be found in Spain. This is a matter of regret, for besides the advantage to the Spaniards of a much-increased influx of visitors, transatlantic tourists would find in the more western peninsula a world of interest both in the land and also in its people, their ways, their looks, their monuments. One cannot at first but wonder that representatives of the nation of Prescott and Washington Irving are not more frequently to be found in the courts of the Alhambra, at the tomb of Ferdinand and Isabella, or amidst scenes of the lives of Columbus and Pizarro. Catholic citizens of the United States might, one would think, be specially attracted towards a land so long emphatically Catholic, and still so pro- foundly permeated by Catholic sentiment. The bad repute, however, of Spanish living, Spanish inns, and Spanish travel- ling, a repute which keeps away so many English tourists, no doubt sufficiently accounts for the rarity there of our transatlantic cousins. It is, therefore, with much pleasure that we hasten to declare to the American public that a visit to Spain, just accomplished, convinces us that that land is most unjustly maligned, and to assure all interested in the question that lodging, feeding, and travelling can be effected Notes on Spain 169 with very reasonable comfort, and that all the points of special interest can be visited without hardship or fatigue. Tastes proverbially differ; but we must avow that com- paring the towns and cities on the Spanish railways with analogous towns and cities on the German railways, we give the preference as regards cooking and sleeping accommoda- tions very decidedly to Spain. In five weeks spent there, in 1879, journeying from St. Sebastian to Barcelona, via Madrid, Cordova, Seville, Cadiz, Malaga, Grenada, and Valentia, we never met with a bed that was not both comfortable and scrupu- lously clean. Everywhere there is most excellent bread, and either good coffee or good chocolate. Very rarely did the flavour of garlic (a flavour, by the way, without which there is no good cookery) obtrude itself, and the fault to be found was not with the cooking, but with the too pre- valent habit of dressing meat too fresh one of the many instances in which Spaniards carry their summer habits into the winter. If, however, there is this drawback as to their meat, sweets and confectionery are excellent. All the hotels are very reasonable in their charges, it being, however, advis- able always on arrival to make a distinct agreement for so much a day, everything included. Travelling by rail is slow work certainly, but the carriages are comfortable ; and a non-smoking carriage is always to be had for the asking, and is strictly reserved for non-smokers. This is a far preferable arrangement to that of France, where smoking is nominally forbidden in every carriage and practi- cally allowed in all, the onus of prohibition being thrown upon the travellers themselves, whose objection to smoking may be great, but whose moral courage for objecting may be small to their serious inconvenience. The ill repute as to comfort in travelling, from which Spain suffers, was doubtless formerly well deserved, and that even 1 70 Notes on Spain not long ago. Spain is, in fact, a country but freshly opened up to travellers who are somewhat enterprising, who like to take a route not followed by the whole mob of tourists, but who yet care for creature comforts and do not wish to ' rough it.' To such travellers we do not hesitate to say, Go at once and judge for yourselves. With these hints for the general public which we trust may serve to encourage not a few hesitating tourists to ven- ture on the southern side of the Pyrenees we turn at once to matters concerning the Church and religion in Spain. That country is full of interest historically, politically, com- mercially, and scientifically. Its botany may be said to be yet unknown, while its flora is a richer one than that of Italy. Even in zoology a great deal remains to be accomplished. To the Catholic, however, the word ' Spain ' calls up at once a host of ecclesiastical memories and aspirations, and upon the Catholic-American that old country has very special claims. A quick run from Paris to Bayonne, a night's rest at each, with a peep at Biarritz having been experienced, we crossed the Bidassoa and arrived at St. Sebastian in good time to ascend Monte Argullo, and enjoy the magnificent view from the ramparts of the fortress on its summit. But just over the border we hardly hoped to find what we did find, so sudden a change in the aspect of things around us groups of ladies with mantillas, Spanish peasant dresses, and ox-drawn carts, the wheels of which were solid like those of classical Italy two thousand years ago ! The churches of St. Sebastian would be insignificant in another Spanish city. But in this, the first town visited, they were most interesting to us, being so strikingly different from those of France. With small windows to keep out heat and glare in a land of such penetrating sunshine, the large amount of wall-space thus left has encouraged the develop- Notes on Spain 171 ment of internal sculpture. The enormous carved altar- pieces or 'retablos,' reaching to the ceiling, which are at once so general and so characteristic, the ornate and busy character of a Spanish church interior, together with its semi-obscurity, are things which the northern visitor will probably first remark. Profuse carving and gilding, the lavish character of which is generally more remarkable than its beauty, are apparent on every hand. But how and where to pray may trouble some newcomers. In St. Sebastian (so near France), and in one or two churches in Madrid, chairs like those in French churches are to be found. Generally, however, there is nothing but the pavement on which to kneel or sit no bench or chair is to be seen. Another peculiarity is the position of the choir. Instead of being in close proximity to the altar in front of it (as generally north of the Alps) or behind it, as so often in Italy the choir with its stalls and organ is removed far from the sanctuary, and is placed near the west end of the church. A narrow pathway (railed in on each side) connects, in most cathedrals, the enclosure of the choir with the distant sanc- tuary, and allows the clergy to pass from one to the other without being inconvenienced by the congregation, which may crowd the interspace between these enclosures, standing or kneeling with their backs to the clergy and their faces to the altar. In many parish and monastic churches the choir is raised upon a great west gallery, the entire area of the church being thus left to the congregation. This we found to be the case with the large church at St. Sebastian, a very handsome flight of steps leading up on one side from the floor of the church to the choir. Close to this church, on the way up to the fortress, is a large Carmelite nunnery, whose inmates kept high festival next day (October 15th), which was the feast of their patron, the great Spanish saint, St. Teresa. 172 Notes on Spain In the fortress itself we found a well-kept little chapel, with its lamp burning and holy water stoop outside duly filled. It was evidently a Spanish rather than a French fort. Descending by the graves of the English officers who fell here in the Peninsular War, and passing the modern ruins of the adjacent stations of the cross, set up by Ferdinand vn., in gratitude for his return, we went to the hotel for dinner and rest, in preparation for an early start next day for Burgos. The traveller who follows the same route as we did should also traverse it by day in order to enjoy its fine scenery, especially the magnificent defile of Pancorbo, with its limestone precipices still better seen by railway 'than by the old coach road. In or close to the ancient and decayed city of Burgos are three special objects of attraction its far-famed Cathedral, the convent of Las Huelgas, and the Catuja, or old Carthu- sian monastery of Miraflores. Interesting as is this city to the artist and archaeologist, it was the worst for comfort we anywhere experienced on our route. At our hotel there, the Rafaela which, like so many Spanish inns, begins on the first floor, not on the ground floor we, for the first and only time, met with a really unsavoury dish, one made of odds and ends of ox, and with a taste resembling the odour of the cat. However, if the material gratifications of Burgos are scant and poor, a plentiful intellectual repast is offered there to the Churchman, the artist, and the historian. We entered the famed Cathedral at six in the morning, and found small scattered congregations at the different Masses which were going on in continual succession. The Spanish chasuble is like the Roman in that there is no cross behind, but it is longer, and gradually widens from the shoulders downwards. The servers at these early Masses were not clad in cassocks and surplices, but were poor boys in their own more or less ragged attire. Here, as elsewhere Notes on Spain 173 in Spain, save Andalusia, we were struck with the gravity and solemnity with which Mass was said. The bell is always rung before the Pater noster, as in France ; and the congrega- tion make then the sign of the cross in the complex way in which it is made in Spain the forehead, mouth, and chest being first crossed, then a large sign of the cross following, to which other small crossings may again succeed ; the thumb being always finally kissed. Some forty clergy are attached to the Cathedral, of whom twenty-eight, we believe, are canons. The canons do not generally in Spain dress as in France or Italy, but each wears a long silk cloak (like a cope) with a coloured hood. The hood is worn on the shoulders with a point extending down the back. There are three High Masses in the Cathedral every day, and the office is, of course, daily sung but not well sung. Hardly any congregation attends any part of it, even vespers. At that office, two priests in copes bearing silver maces (carried sloping over the shoulders) go from the sacristy through the sanctuary to the choir, and conduct thence three other priests in copes to the sanctuary, when, the altar having been incensed, they return to the choir. It is no part of the object of this paper to describe buildings already copiously described in guide-books; accordingly we will say nothing of the Cathedral, except to remark that for travellers from countries such as England and France, the monuments of which have suffered so much from violence of iconoclasts, the uninjured and undefaced condition of its sculptured richness has a special charm. At the old and magnificent Carthusian Monastery of Miraflores there are now only three priests, survivors of its former monastic population. Forbidden to wear the habit, and unable to practise their rule, yet living in the building once a noted monastery of their order, their life must be a 1 74 Notes on Spain sad one save for interior consolations. They hope, however, that the change for the better which has of late taken place in Spanish affairs may soon permit them once more to receive novices, and resume the monastic life now interrupted for what will soon be half a century. 1 This hope is strengthened by the knowledge that every here and there over Spain the various monastic brotherhoods are beginning to reappear. At Burgos itself the dissolved Carmelite friars, the old 'White Friars' of London, are once more in possession of their old church near the railway station, and are already a numerous community. Very pleasant was it to sit there and listen to their voices reciting vespers in the large western gallery, which is the choir of their church. The Cistercian Convent of Las Huelgas is a case of ecclesi- astical survival, for the Abbess still holds sway over a subject village near the church, and though despoiled of her old wealth and no longer ranking as a princess palatine, second only to the queen, or possessing legal jurisdiction (which formerly extended to the power of inflicting capital punish- ment), she is still styled Abbess ' by the grace of God.' The nuns are easily to be seen when at their ' office,' since their ' choir ' occupies the whole nave of the church, with a grating at its eastern end through which they can see the altar. Visitors admitted at the transept can look back through the same grating at the nuns, and very stately dames are they, and majestically do they courtesy (not genuflect) to the altar as they pass out at the end of their service. We paid a pleasant visit to the elderly Archbishop of Burgos, who still inhabits the ancient archiepiscopal palace adjoining the Cathedral. A conversation with him and with his secretary convinced us that no very hopeful view was taken by them of the politico-religious future of Spain. With much esteem for the well-intentioned young sovereign, 1 This hope has, we hear, since been fulfilled. Notes on Spain 175 King Alfonso, came the exclamations, ' What can he do ? ' ' A Constitutional King ! ' ' He is helpless ! ' exclamations which plainly pointed to Carlist proclivities. After one night and day at Burgos the next city visited was Valladolid, interesting to every English and English- speaking Catholic from its Scotch and English colleges. The rector of the latter college (Dr Allen) received us with great kindness, and courteously gave us for escort about the city a pleasant cicerone hi the person of a student who had already been seven years away from his friends, and who had three more summers to pass at a city in which the sun of the 1 7th of October was quite as hot as could be endured with equanimity by an Englishman. This college was founded three hundred years ago, yet the building is not more than half that antiquity, and its church is a sort of rotunda with altars ah 1 round, their retablos profusely gilt in the Spanish style. The Cathedral of Valladolid, though but a portion of the building which was planned, is very impressive in its massive solidity and majestic simplicity. Were it finished, it might serve by comparison with Burgos as a test of the suitability for church purposes of the classical and Gothic styles. We take it that many a ' Goth ' going to Spain to admire pointed architecture might end by giving the preference to its rival. Certainly before deciding, the cathedrals of Valladolid, Cadiz, and Granada ought to be studied and 'worked in.' We mean really used by the observer again and again for private devo- tion as well as for assisting at public functions. Signs of religious life are not wanting in Valladolid. Thus the fine old Church of San Pablo has quite recently been restored, and Mass is said in it by the Jesuits, who have found their way here not as a regular community but as a few isolated individuals. It is also in contemplation to restore the much finer old Benedictine Church of San Gregorio. 176 Notes on Spain After passing two days in this modern-looking city (modern on account of war's destructiveness), the capital of Spam when Philip u. was King, the old city of Avila de- manded a careful visit. Avila is one of the holy cities of Spain, as being so much identified with that great and emphatically Spanish saint, St. Teresa. If Valladolid has been forced to put on a modern aspect, it is far otherwise with Avila. Still begirt with its old mediaeval battlemented walls with their very numerous towers, of which the east end of the Cathedral (actually built into the city walls) forms one, Avila is indeed a city of the past. It is a fossil, or rather an instance of survival, which no traveller, and certainly no American traveller who generally so keenly appreciates the relics of the historic past should on any account omit to visit ; and his visit will not be an uncom- fortable one. The small hotel (the Fonda del Ingles), con- veniently situated just opposite the west door of the Cathedral, affords a clean and comfortable lodging and good and well-cooked food, all at exceedingly moderate charges. The Cathedral, though small, is one of the most impres- sive in Spain. Early and severe in style, and built of a peculiar dark-coloured stone, its rather small windows con- tain so much stained glass that even the bright sun of Spain sends but a dim religious light into its interior. A peculiar charm is imparted to the eastern portico of the church by the series of very slender columns which intervene between the main columns, supporting the clerestory, and the lateral chapels. The next morning was the Sunday within the octave of the. feast of St. Teresa patron of Avila and a grand 'funcion' at the expense of the Ayutamiento (or municipality) was to be held in the Carmelite Church. In and around Avila are various churches and convents connected with the life of the saint. Notes on Spain 177 At early Mass at the Cathedral, holy communion was given at the small altar in the middle of the wall of the apse. There was no rail or communion cloth ; but the scanty com- municants ascended a few narrow steps at one end of the chapel and knelt close to the altar, a small, square, stiff linen cloth being passed from hand to hand, and there was absolutely nothing but the stones of the pavement on which either preparation or thanksgiving could be made. The shape of the Spanish chasuble has already been mentioned. The maniple differs much not only from that of France, but also from the Roman maniple, being less expanded at its free end than in the latter, and therefore more like the Gothic or mediaeval maniple. The tunics and dalmatics are as in France, with no sleeves, but merely flaps hanging over the arms; but very often, as at Avila, there is a prominent standing collar. These vestments are often worn by the serving lads at grand festivals. The surplices are curiously and rrot nicely modified. The sleeves are narrow and long ; but the arms do not traverse them, but, passing through armholes, the sleeves hang loose, save that they are carried by the wearer (server, preacher, or other) twisted around the arm. The surplices are also very much cut down the back at the neck, and at the same time are deeply notched below, so that the two sides are united over the back only by a narrow isthmus of linen. The boys who serve Mass commonly aid the priest in putting up the chalice, etc., after Mass, holding open the bursa to receive the Corporal. They do the same at Bayonne. The hour for the function having arrived, we repaired to the Church of Nuestra Serafica Madre Santa Teresa de Jesus, which was adorned with hangings and lit up with many candles. There were some seats in the nave, 'near the altar, for the municipality ; and one bench, extend- VOL. I. M 1 78 Notes on Spain ing almost the whole length, on each side of the nave, where, luckily for un-Spanish knees, we got seats. A High Mass, at a side altar (said by tonsured Carmelite Fathers), was just concluding. Soon, however (the church meanwhile rapidly filling), the strains of a military band were heard approaching, the great west doors were thrown open, and in marched the Ayuta- miento in evening dress, preceded by Alguazils and another most mediaeval-looking official. The band remained outside and ceased playing. The priest, deacon, and sub-deacon (Carmelite Fathers) then advanced to the altar, and High Mass began, the Holy Sacrament being exposed. Meanwhile the whole centre of the nave had become covered by kneeling women, the men standing or kneeling in the side aisles and at the west end. It is very curious to see the women of all classes so much alike. All in black, with black veils over their heads, it requires a female eye to distinguish, in many cases, rich from poor. This is one of the various pleasing and. edifying instances of a good equality which exists in Spain, and all fine dressing for church and vain rivalry as to fashion in God's house, is here utterly unknown. The women have a curious way of resting them- selves, after long kneeling, by sitting back on their own heels, where they seem as comfortable as if on chairs, although their legs must continue sharply flexed the whole time, and would be painfully cramped but for long practice from child- hood. It was odd to see them on this occasion, when there was a long service and sermon, alternately kneeling up and sitting back on their heels, never rising from the ground at all, fanning themselves more or less the whole time. The municipality and all the men behaved very well, stand- ing during the greater part of the tune, but kneeling at the more solemn parts of the service. The sermon was long, extempore at least spoken with animation, not read and Notes on Spain 179 eloquent, the words being also pronounced very distinctly. St. Teresa, the pride of Spain, the special glory of Avila, was, of course, its subject. A life-sized image of the saint, dressed in a real habit and surrounded with gilt rays like a sun, stood on the Gospel side of the altar, and, at intervals, the preacher turned towards it and, extending his arms, ex- claimed in an impassioned manner, 'O, Madre Nuestra! 0, santa mia ! 0, Santa de Avila ! ' The High Mass being concluded, the three Carmelite priests, with their attendants, and preceded by the munici- pality, came forth, bearing the relics of the saint her rosary, a shoe, her walking-staff, and one of her fingers in a crystal reliquary. The crowd fell back on each side in the plaza, and stood uncovered while the clergy passed out for about a hundred yards and then returned. Avila is a very Catholic city, and edifying in many ways ; but, nevertheless, all the shops were open on Sunday, and this we found to be the case in Spain generally. A visit was then paid to the great Dominican Monastery of Santo Tomas, wherein, including novices, there are now about one hundred friars. It is thus devoted to its original destination, having been founded for Dominicans by Fer- dinand and Isabella. The friars were expelled with the rest in 1831 ; but some years afterwards the ex-Queen Isabella n. bought it and restored it to them. The reader may wonder how a large monastery such as this should have escaped destruction during the recent revolution. The reason is not any goodwill on the part of the ' Liberals ' (save the mark !), but because friars are found to be actually necessary animals for the government of the Philippine Islands ; and so the said Liberals are reluctantly compelled to tolerate various flourishing monasteries destined to furnish the much-needed religious, who, from their destination, are known as ' Filip- pinos,' whatever the Order to which they may belong. 180 Notes on Spain The prior spoke English well, having resided at Hong- Kong. His monastery is magnificent, especially its stately cloisters and the beautiful carved work of the stalls of the choir. This choir is placed high up in a western gallery, and, by a very singular exception, the high altar is also placed high up on another similar gallery situated at the eastern end of the church. On the floor of the edifice, in front of the high altar, is placed the beautiful white marble tomb of Prince Juan, the only son of Ferdinand and Isabella, who died a promising youth of nineteen. High up on one side of the church is a small gallery, into which his parents would occasionally come, and from which the tomb and high altar can be equally well seen. Sunset, from the Alameda of Avila, is a lovely sight, and great is the change hi temperature to be perceived imme- diately after it has taken place. Thin and biting, indeed, is the air ; but it is not at all wonderful that it should be so, seeing that Avila, though in the midst of a wide, undulating plain, is as high as is the top of Snowdon ? The start from Avila for the Escurial required a rise at four A.M., by which we were enabled to reach the palace about eight. That palace, its rooms for royal residence in life ; its resting-places for royalty in death ; its church, sacristy, library, garden, monastic buildings, etc., need no description here, for they are all fully described in guide- books. But a few words may be said as to the impressions made upon travellers arriving freshly from mediaeval Avila and passing, with minds saturated with the charms of its old Cathedral, into the great temple of the Escurial. In spite of the impressive solemnity, the mysterious sanctity, and chaste beauty of the former, it was impossible not to be struck with the majesty, lofty sublimity, and noble simplicity of the latter. Lovers of Gothic as we were and are, we felt that here Notes on Spain 18 1 in this classical church we were in a temple as worthy to enshrine the worship of Almighty God as was the pure and simple Gothic church of Avila or the stately and richly ornate Cathedral of Burgos. Curious, also, was it to recollect how rapid was the change which came upon the architecture of the land curious that a church so thoroughly and com- pletely classical as that of the Escurial should have been designed while in other places Gothic architecture was still in continued use. But however impressive and elevating may be the effect of the Escurial's church, no one can deny but that, whether as palace or as monastery, the residential building is vastly inferior to earlier and, indeed, to later structures, though, on ( account of its mass, its effect, as a whole, has a certain undeniable grandeur. The journey to Madrid, of twenty-one miles, was accom- plished in less than two hours and a half ! and travellers are landed at a station sufficiently remote from the city to necessitate a long drive over a road so bad that the jolting endured must be felt before it can be imagined. We landed at the Fonda de la Pax, an hotel in the Puerta del Sol, which is a gay, open space from which the best streets radiate. There is little to detain or interest the lover of architecture in Madrid ; but the ordinary traveller may be (as we were) agreeably surprised to find Madrid so Spanish after all that one has heard of the influx of French customs. The picture gallery, with its most interesting portraits by Velasquez, to say nothing of Murillo, and the wonderfully rich collection of arms and armour in the Arineria, should both be visited with care and by no means in haste. The opera-house and theatres deserve a visit ; and the curious in Spanish manners may go to a small, cheap play-house, No. 7 in the Calle Barquillo, for music and dancing, which made us, when we first witnessed it, exclaim, ' Are we in Madrid or in Morocco ? ' 1 82 Notes on Spain The churches in Madrid are comparatively uninteresting, and especially so is the celebrated sanctuary, the church of the Atocha, the only handsome object in which is the magnificent tomb of the unhappy revolutionist Prim, on which his effigy lies recumbent as in mediaeval monuments, but not in the attitude of prayer. The old Jesuit church, San Isidro el Real, is handsome in its way, as are various other Madrid churches, which deserve no special mention. The fashionable church is in the Calle de Alcala, the first church on the left after leaving the Puerta del Sol. Here there are plenty of chairs and a crowded congregation ; but here, as in every other church in Spain, the ladies still wear then: black veils, French bonnets being reserved for worldly use, and especially for the afternoon promenade. Never have we seen Mass said with more earnestness and devotion than by the worthy parish priest of this fashionable church. In need of temporal and spiritual aids, visits had to be paid before leaving Madrid to a Spanish banker and to Car- dinal Moreno. Spanish bankers have the curious habit of giving you no indication of their whereabouts. Not only is no name to be found at the gate of the house, but they do not even put their names outside their own door, which opens on the staircase, so that you have actually to ferret them out as you might rabbits, as if the one thing they wished to avoid was to 'do business.' The proper door having at last been found, entrance was, at half-past ten, obtained into a room in which a group of clerks were dis- cussing newspapers and cigarettes with much ease and leisure. Business, we were told, began at eleven. Having ascertained that the Archbishop of Toledo had come to Madrid for the winter, we drove to his palace, in the Calle del Sacramento, and adjoining the Church of San Justo. Ascending a large staircase, a door on the first floor admitted visitors into a dark room or outer hall, where Notes on Spain 183 we were met by a priest who courteously inquired our pur- pose in coming. As we were duly provided with, a special letter of introduction, we were ushered through a room on the left, in which were persons of both sexes awaiting an audience, with two or three priests walking up and down in their midst, arranging the order of admission and other details. Traversing this room we entered a third, much larger, furnished with red velvet chairs and sofa, and with a crimson and gold throne and canopy at one end, two oil paintings of the Pope and King being placed side by side beneath the canopy and behind and above the throne. After waiting some twenty minutes His Eminence appeared at a door on the further side of the room, and beckoned to us. W^ advanced to pay our reverence, and were led by the Cardinal through another rather handsomely furnished draw- ing-room into a small cabinet, with two tables covered with books and writings, and a sofa, on which we were invited to sit down beside the Cardinal Moreno, Archbishop of Toledo and Primate of Spain. He could not speak French, but chatted pleasantly in Spanish, not by any means hurrying his visitor. His view of Spanish affairs and of the prospects of religion was cheerful, and after a pleasant interview he courteously accompanied us hah - way through the first draw- ing-room, at the door of which parting bows were exchanged. Having seen the Archbishop of Toledo, the next thing was to see his city and church, so interesting, not only on account of its beauty and renown, but as the only spot in Spain in which the Mozarabic rite is still in daily use, in one of its many chapels. Accordingly, leaving Madrid about seven, we reached Toledo (by the new direct line) about ten, and went to the Fonda de Lino, an hotel where it is well to make a distinct bargain, and where it is not easy to make a cheap one. Toledo is a wonderful city. Though conquered from the 184 Notes on Spain Moors as early as 1085, it is a Moorish city still. It is a chaos of houses divided by a multitude of narrow tortuous lanes, in utter irregularity and devoid of any general direc- tion, as if they were the gaps left by builders who must have some way of retreat from houses which they had constructed each for itself, and without regard to its neighbours or any general plan. The city, moreover, is perched on a lofty hill, a natural fortress with a natural moat for the river Tagus flows round the greater part of its circumference. Then the streets are not only narrow and tortuous, but also steep ; and curious indeed is the effect on the traveller who arrives in the dark in an omnibus drawn by a crowd of mules. These were fully needed to drag the heavy vehicle up the steep incline and through lanes in which it seemed hardly able to avoid the house walls, and finally into a yard, from which a staircase leads to the entrance to the inn, which begins as usual only on the first floor. Toledo is undoubtedly one of the most interesting cities in Spain for the artist, the historian, and the churchman. Here are to be found evidences of every great transition which the country has undergone. Without its walls are remains of a Roman amphitheatre and a circus maximus. Of the Visigothic civilisation and the high perfection to which its arts attained we have evidence in the beautiful gold votive crowns found in the vicinity, and now preserved in the Armeria, at Madrid, and the Hdtel de Cluny, at Paris. The Saracenic period has here left deeper traces than any- where else hi Spain, except at Cordova, Grenada, and Seville. The early and late mediaeval periods are well exemplified ; while Renaissance work everywhere shows itself, and modern revolutionary destruction and decay have, alas ! left but too sad and unmistakable traces of their operation. In another manner also the changes of ideas and manners are well exemplified. The religious sentiment of the time of the Notes on Spain 185 Visigoths (as shown by its worship) is preserved in the venerable Mozarabic rite, which is still daily performed in the Cathedral, and annually in various Toledan churches. The many traces of Moorish skill in construction and decora- tion, exemplified in the two fine mediaeval synagogues, not only testify to the co-existence of Mohammedan and Jewish believers, but to the wise and equitable toleration of the Spanish Christians in the earlier part of the Middle Ages. It was this spirit of equity which led King Alonzo vi. to refuse his sanction to the conversion of the great mosque into a church till the Moors themselves had consented to the act. The spirit of intolerance which subsequently became so sadly characteristic of the nation has left its mark in the Christian emblems in the synagogues, which emblems indicate their confiscation, and commemorate the period of the expulsion of the Moors and Jews. These intolerant acts not only violated equity and greatly impaired material pro- sperity, but religion itself suffered ; for a religious decay soon began to show itself as a sequence if not a consequence of the regime of excessive repression. To that regime suc- ceeded revolution and irreligion, of which only too abundant traces are to be found, and amongst them the present dese- crated state of the two sometime churches and ancient synagogues of Toledo. Finally, the last phase of national life, the reviving spirit of religion, is showing itself in the work now going on to restore Christian worship in the old Jewish building, where, if no untoward event occurs, Mass will be once more said, and this time without the accompani- ment of persecution or injustice to any one. Singularly desolate and forlorn is the old Jewish quarter of Toledo, and decay is also the prevailing aspect of the city as seen from, the exterior, with its crumbling walls and ruined buildings the latter being mostly the result of the suppression of the monasteries. 1 86 Notes on Spain The two synagogues to which reference has just been made are respectively called El Transito and Santa Maria la JSlanca. Both are very interesting works erected by Moorish workmen for the Jews. The latter building was founded in the twelfth century and the former in 1366, so that for more than three hundred years the Jews enjoyed unquestionable toleration. Not far off is the magnificent Franciscan Convent and Church of San Juan de los Reyes, founded by Ferdinand and Isabella. The cloister is perhaps the most elaborate and ornate example of Gothic architecture which exists, and it is open to question whether its luxuriant magnificence alto- gether harmonises with the severe and austere monastic reform professed by the friars who were its first inhabitants. Its church is also open to criticism. Questionable was the taste which ornamented its exterior with the chains said to have been worn by the Christian captives at Grenada. Within the church, the profuse decorative sculpture exemplifies that decay of piety and increase of worldliness characteristic of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In it, as generally in the churches of that period, and notably in the interior of the magnificent chapel of King's College, Cambridge, we see the images of the saints and holy emblems dwarfed and diminished ; while heraldic figures, crests, and supporters have become enormous, and huge coats of arms, crowns, and coronets obtrude themselves on all sides. But the great temple of Toledo is, of course, its famed Cathedral, interesting as the primatial church of Spain, as the one example of pure Northern Gothic in the old Spanish capital, and also from its intrinsic beauty and vast size. Its length is not great less by more than a hundred feet than that of Westminster Abbey but its width is much more than twice that of its London rival. Its beauty is mainly due to the charm of the originally constructed early pointed church, Notes on Spain 187 but in part to the multiplicity and richness of the later ad- ditions, which, though less profuse and ornate than those of Burgos, are equally well preserved and free from mutilation. It happened that our first introduction to the Cathedral's interior was by the door of the north transept, from which an uninterrupted view is at once obtained of the whole breadth of the transepts and of the circling aisle with its clustered columns extending round behind the high altar. Turning to the left, the comparatively modern chapel de la Virgen del Segario at once arrested the attention. This chapel has a very striking effect, for there is first a sort of antechapel, then the shrine of the much venerated Virgin of Toledo, with the richly decorated sacred image above the altar. Beyond this is a large chapel containing relics, the golden reliquaries of which are visible in the distance behind and above the Virgin's altar, which thus stands between a dark and sombre antechapel and the large, brilliant sanctuary of relics, which seems a mysterious Holy of Holies but par- tially visible. Around the sanctuary of the high altar are beautiful sculptures, which have been partially removed to the Gospel side to make way for the Kenaissance tomb of a bishop. Behind the altar is the lofty and elaborately carved, painted and gilt retablo, and the great pillars on the east side of the entrance to the sanctuary, which are elaborately decorated with niches and statuary. The choir is not so near the west end of the church as in many Spanish cathe- drals, and this, together with the presence of double aisles all round, gives great spaciousness to the nave. One great charm of this magnificent Cathedral is its splendid old stained glass, with which almost every window is entirely filled. Beneath the southern tower at the west end is the Mozarabic chapel. The 25th of October being the feast of the dedication of the church, there was a grand High Mass, solemn procession, 1 88 Notes on Spain and sermon. There are between forty and fifty clergy at- tached to the Cathedral. In the old days there were nearly a hundred canons and prebendaries, amongst which were reckoned the Pope and the King, each of whom was fined two thousand inaravedis for non-attendance in choir at Christmas-tide. In the procession there were thirty-six priests in white copes and three in dalmatics, carrying relics. The processional cross here, as in some other parts of Spain (e.g. at Cadiz), has at the upper part of its staff a wooden cylinder covered with an embroidered veil so arranged as to form a conical roof above it, the whole being placed just below the cross. At High Mass a few men knelt or sat within the screen of the sanctuary ; and the Epistle and Gospel were sung near, but not from, two gilt metal pulpits placed one on each side of the metal screen. The sermon was long, and the preacher complained bitterly of the coldness and indifference which must exist when on such a day only a few dozen persons (and there were really no more) could be found present at the festal service. The music was moderately good, but it seemed to us that in Spain both church organs and military bands have become affected by the prevailing twang of the guitar. The matter of most interest to us, however, was the old Mozarabic rite, the performance of which we carefully at- tended, having been provided by the civil sacristan with the office-book and missal of the rite. For it is not only the Mass which is peculiar, but the office also ; and in the Mozarabic chapel there is a choir with regular stalls, wherein this office is duly chanted daily. It is, however, chanted very quickly and also indistinctly, so that it was a matter of some difficulty to follow the words. The office began with Prime, of which the first words said audibly are, 'In nomine Domini nostri Jesu Christi lumen Notes on Spain 189 cum pace.' After four Psalms and a number of versicles and responses, there followed a lesson from the Old Testament and one from the Epistles, and a hymn ; and then, strange to say, the Gloria in excelsis, followed by the Nicene Creed. In the creed there are certain differences from the creed of the Roman rite. Thus, instead of ' genitum non factum con- substantialem patri,' there is ' natum non factum, Homousion Patri ; hoc est ejusdem cum Patre substantial Also, instead of ' et crucifixus est ' there is only ' passus sub Pontio Pilato.' Next comes the Lord's Prayer, which is said in the follow- ing peculiar and very impressive mode : Priest. Pater noster qui es in ccelis. Choir. Amen. P. Sanctificetur nomen tuurn. G. Amen. P. Adveniat regnum tuum. C. Amen. P. Fiat voluntas tua sicut in ccelo et in terra. C. Amen. P. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie. C. Quia Deus es. P. Et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. C. Amen. P. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem. C. Sed libera nos a malo. Finally comes an elaborate benediction in four parts, given by the priest standing, the choir all kneeling, and reply- ing Amen to each part. Tierce then begins with the Venite, exultemus Domino, followed by Psalms, two little chapters (one from the Old and the other from the New Testament), a hymn, the Lord's Prayer (as before), and an elaborate benediction. Sext and None are constructed similarly to Tierce. 190 Notes on Spain The Mass is believed to be almost purely the ancient Mass of the Gothic times before the advent of the Moors, but a few additions and alterations are known to have been made under Cardinal Ximenes; and doubtless the influence of the Toledan rite, introduced in the eleventh century, must also have made itself felt. Neither in the altar nor in the vestments is there anything at present peculiar. As in the Dominican rite, so here, the priest puts the wine and water in the chalice, and spreads the Corporal before the Introit. There is no Kyrie; but the Gloria is said, and then a lesson from the Old Testament, followed by the Epistle and Gospel, as in the Ambrosian rite at Milan. After the offertory and incensing, the priest turns round to receive the offerings of the people, saying, ' Centuplum acci- pias, et vitam seternani possideas in Regno Dei. Amen.' A special blessing is then given to the bread, with which cere- mony the blessing of the bread at the French High Mass has probably some connection. With this ceremony the Mass of the Catechumens ends. At the beginning of the Missa fidelium the priest (after a short prayer) raises his hands and says, ' Orernus,' to which the choir respond, ' Agyos, Agyos, Agyos, Domine Deus Rex JEterne, tibi laudes et gratias.' The priest then prays for the Catholic Church, and com- memorates the Blessed Virgin, the Apostles and Evangelists, and many saints, and afterwards begins the preface by placing his hands on the chalice, and saying Priest. Aures ad Dominurn. Choir. Habemus ad Dorninum. P. Sursum Corda. C. Levemus ad Dominum. P. Deo ac Domino nostro Jesu Christo Filio Dei, qui est in ccelis, dignas laudes dignasque gratias referamus. C. Dignum et justum est. Then follows a preface different from the Roman, and Notes on Spain 191 after it a Sanctus is sung, at the end of which occur the words, ' Agyos, Agyos, Agyos, Kyrie Theos.' The rest of the Mass before the consecration is exceedingly short, and the words of consecration of the Gothic Mass are different from those of the Roman. The last words (of those which immediately follow the actual words of consecration) are said aloud ; the choir responding Amen. The consecrating words of the old rite are, 'Hoc est corpus meum quod pro vobis tradetur ; ' and ' Hie est calix novi testamenti in meo sanguine, qui pro vobis et pro multis effundetur in remissionem peccatorum.' The chalice is elevated, not naked, but covered with its veil. Then after two short prayers there is another and very peculiar elevation, due doubtless to the former prevalence of the Arian heresy in Spain. The priest holding the Host over the uncovered chalice, says, 'Fidem quam corde credimus, ore autem dicamus.' He then elevates the Holy Sacrament that it may be seen by the people ; and the creed is recited in the same words as at Prime, the separate clauses being said alternately. The Host is then broken into nine pieces, disposed on the paten in a peculiar order ; and the priest commemorates first the living and then the dead, and the choir sing as intro- ductory to the communion the words, 'Gustate et videte quam suavis est Dominus. Alleluia.' Having received both kinds and said two short prayers, the priest or the deacon says on the more solemn feasts, 'Solemnia completa sunt hi nomine Domini nostri Jesu Christi; votum nostrum sit acceptum cum pace.' On less solemn days he says, 'Missa acta est; in nomine Domini nostri Jesu Christi perficiamus cum pace.' This form is very interesting, as giving a possible key to the enigmatical words of the Roman Mass, ' Ite missa est.' 192 Notes on Spain Lastly, the priest gives the blessing, turning to the people (the only time he does so except at the offertory) and making the sign of the cross over them, saying: 'Pater et Films.' The unaccustomed hearer might well wonder (as the French- man, King Philip v., did wonder) how it is that the name of the Holy Spirit seems to be omitted. It is not, however, really so, for it occurs at the very beginning of the benedic- tion before the priest turns round, so that it is not apt to be noticed. The full words of the blessing are: 'In unitate Sancti Spiritus benedicat vos Pater et Filius.' Before quitting the subject of Toledo and its ancient rite, it may be interesting to our readers to compare the latter with certain other rites which here and there still survive in Europe. Unfortunately we had no opportunity of seeing the Mozarabic High Mass, which we regretted the more since we had before found that function, as performed at Milan and at Lyons, full of ritualistic interest. The ancient Ambrosian rite of Milan presents certain noteworthy resem- blances to the Mozarabic Mass. Thus (1), after the elevation, the priest extends out his arms horizontally for a short time ; (2) besides the Epistle and Gospel, a lesson from the Old Testament is also read ; and (3) the priest never turns round to the people at any ' Dorninus vobiscum.' The last circum- stance is due to the fact that, according to the strict Am- brosian rite, the priest should celebrate facing the people (standing on the further side of the altar) ; and no doubt the former existence of a similar custom in Spain accounts for the fact that the priest does not turn round to the people at the Dominus vobiscum in the Mozarabic rite. It may be well to add here some other peculiarities observed in the Ambrosian rite, so that any reader who (more fortunate than we) shall witness the Mozarabic High Mass may be enabled to compare the two together. According to the Ambrosian rite, the Gospel and Epistle Notes on Spain 193 are both sung successively from the same pulpit, which is on the Gospel side of the entrance to the choir. The albs worn at the High Mass witnessed were very short (not reaching so low as the knees), and with a sort of ' flounce.' We were, how- ever, much interested to see that they were ' apparelled,' the ' apparels ' being somewhat larger in size than the mediaeval ones. It being Advent, the deacon and sub-deacon wore chasubles ; but the deacon, on removing his for the Gospel, did not, as with us, put on a broad stole, but there was a curious rectangular ornament attached to his narrow stole, behind his left shoulder. The censer used had no cover, and, on this account, it was used in a peculiar manner, to prevent its contents falling out ; instead of being swung as censers ordinarily are, it was swung rapidly round in com- plete circles, first in one direction and then in the reverse manner. Each time before incensing the altar the priest offered incense on his knees. At an early part of the Mass the canons all advanced in single file, and successively kissed a corner of the altar. At the offertory two old laymen (each wearing a white cloak with a black hood) came to the rails and offered altar-bread ; and two women came to the entrance of the chancel and offered wine (the offerings being received by the deacon and subdeacon in silver vases), an interesting case of the survival of a primitive practice. During the greater part of the Mass the deacon and subdeacon stood sideways, each leaning with his arms on one end of the altar. The priest washed his hands, not at the offertory, but imme- diately before the consecration, and it was done with great ceremony, the deacon and sub-deacon holding the two ends of a long cloth, and the assistants holding the basin and ewer. The priest again washed his hands, and in the same manner, after communicating. No bell was used at any part of the Mass, and that part of the canon which comes between the Pater noster and the Pax Domini sit Semper Vobis- VOL. i. N 194 Notes on Spain cum was sung as loudly as any other part. The Secreta also were sung aloud, like the Collects and Post-communions. The ancient rite still surviving in France, namely, that of Lyons, has fewer differences from the Roman rite than has the Arnbrosian ; still it is very different, and in some of its differences it approximates to the type of the Mozarabic rite. Thus immediately after the elevation, the priest extends out his arms horizontally, 1 and the whole Mass shows traces of having been originally said with the celebrant facing the people. As in the Ambrosian rite, the part of the canon after the Pater noster is sung out loud. At Lyons, the sub- deacon arranges the Corporal, etc., on the altar while the deacon is singing the Gospel. The priest washes his hands before the offertory as well as after it, the acolyte carrying a large towel on his shoulder, which the priest makes use of while in that position. The sub-deacon remains behind the altar (where there is a credence table, and where the chalice is prepared) from the offertory nearly till the elevation, and whenever the missal or any other object is removed from one side of the altar to the other, the assistants in carrying it pass across behind the altar, instead of in front of it as with us. After the offertory, the priest first incenses the altar (without the missal being removed), and then the deacon incenses it on all sides, walking completely round it, as in a Greek Mass. The sub-deacon does not wear a veil on his shoulders as in the Roman Mass, but holds the paten enclosed in a small veil, not larger than that of the chalice if it be not the chalice veil itself ? No bell is used at any part of the High Mass, though it may at the Low Mass, which we have never seen. The Lyons rite is very majestic when the archbishop pontificates ; for he is then attended by no less than seven priests, seven deacons, and seven sub- 1 As he daes also in the Dominican rite, and as was done in the old Sarum rite. Notes on Spain 195 deacons. Probably in the pontifical ceremonies of this rite, and in those of the Papal High Mass, certain customs still survive which once were more or less generally diffused. Keturning from this rather long digression (which we hope and think will not be without interest to many Church- men) to the record of our Spanish ramble, we would advise traveUers proceeding from Toledo to Andalusia, first to return to Madrid, and thence start afresh, as we did, although it must be confessed that the short return journey was a very slow and tedious one, a change of trains being necessary at Algodor, with the chance of finding insufficient accommodation in the up-train on the direct line from Portugal. In our own case a shooting party, also returning, like ourselves, from Toledo, took possession of all the first- class seats not already occupied, save those in an empty carriage ticketed, ' Resarvado para las Senoras.' Into this we accordingly got, and refused to leave it in spite of entreaties and threats of officials, our reply being that we would most readily leave it for an inferior vehicle should any first-class female passenger appear at any station on the road to Madrid, but that while it remained without a tenant, we would temporarily occupy it ; and this we did (no lady appearing) for the rest of our journey. We were not sorry to be again at the Fonda de la Pax at Madrid, for though Toledo is full of antiquarian and picturesque interest, it is not a place for comfortable sojourn, with its swarms of beggars, who swoop down on you from every corner, and who may bestow on you unpleasing epithets (we were called Pontius Pilate) if their appeals be disregarded. With its uneven and not too cleanly streets, your eyes have to be directed pretty constantly downwards, and yet it is needful not to neglect looking above as well as below. Thus in one peregrination we were startled by some water falling just in front of us, and, looking up, perceived 1 96 Notes on Spain that it was due to the fact that a woman above was cleaning her teeth out of the window, without much regard to passing strangers. We got back to Madrid on Saturday night, and next morning heard Mass in the fashionable church of the Order of Calatrava, 1 in the Alcala, close to our hotel. It was filled again and again with an edifying congregation, particu- larly pleasing to a northern visitor from the unobtrusive costume of the black- veiled ladies. In the evening we started for Cordova, a journey of nearly sixteen hours, the train leaving Madrid at nine o'clock hi the evening, and reaching Cordova at about a quarter to one, on the afternoon of the following day. The train was horribly full, and Spaniards of both sexes are somewhat fidgety travelling companions, everlastingly wanting to get out, and that on both sides of the carriage. All the males invariably smoke, and have a great objection to an open window. This was the most uncomfortable journey we made in Spain ; but was, after all, a miracle of comfort compared with the same journey as described by Lady Herbert of Lee ten years earlier. Arriving at Aranjuez at 10.50, the rare luxuriance of trees was perceptible even through the obscurity of a moonless night. We reached Alcazar (just then made famous by an attempt at robbery by brigands) at 2.30 A.M. Soon entering 1 The military confraternity of Calatrava is a development of the Cister- cian Order. It was founded in 1158, approved by Pope Alexander in. in 1164, and Gregory vin. in 1187. The knights at first wore the Cistercian habit, but the needs of military life caused it to be first shortened and then discarded. Ultimately a mere secular dress came to be worn for ordinary use ; but a white silk mantle, ornamented with a red cross flewry over the left arm, was the habit for all ceremonies. This order, like the other mili- tary orders, became rich, and degenerated ; and in 1485 Ferdinand and Isabella united the grand mastership of the order to the Crown, the Pope, Innocent vin., having consented thereto. In the year 1219 an analogous religious order for ladies was founded by Don Gonzalez Yanez. Their red cross was worn embroidered on the front of their habit. Notes on Spain 197 the country of La Mancha, we found ourselves at dawning day in the famed Sierra Morena, at Venta de Cardenas, close to the scene of Don Quixote's penance and of the adventures of Cardenio and Dorothea, passing by the imposing defile of the Despenaperros, or ' throw over the dogs ' (i.e. the infidels). About ten minutes past eight we punctually reached Vadol- lano, whence travellers branch off to Linares, of mining celebrity now as in ancient times. In a little more than another hour we reached the station affording the much-desired and very exceUent breakfast of Menjibar. By this time the rain began to descend in torrents. Our next neighbour at the breakfast-table was an Anglican clergyman from St. Paul's, Knightsbridge, who, to our dismay, informed us of his intention to walk on to Granada. This, indeed, is the station whence a diligence starts for that city ; but no persuasion could induce our new acquaintance to avail himself of it. Saying good-bye to him with regret, we started, and in another hour first saw the Guadalquiver (or great river), and another two hours and a half brought us to the much looked forward to old Moorish city of Cordova. We drove to the Fonda Suiza, a large, clean, comfortable, but not cheap hotel, as the charge for board, lodging, and attendance was 12s. lOd. per diem. We reached it in a deluge. The rainy season of Andalusia had, we were told, begun, and our anticipations for the future were not cheering. Our visit here, however, was enlivened by the kind attention of an English gentleman to whom we had letters, Mr. Rutledge known in Cordova as Senor Don Juan who held an important appointment in connection with railways. Cordova is a very Moorish-looking city, and it may well be so, having continued under their sway for five hundred years. The streets are narrow, like those of Toledo ; many are even narrower, and are entirely paved with flagstones ; yet the place has a clean and thriving look. Most of the streets are 198 Notes on Spain bounded only by whitewashed walls, the sole openings of which are the doorways, and a few very small windows with strong iron gratings, so that the aspect is quite Eastern. Moreover, many of the shops, even of the largest haberdashers, have no enclosure in front, but are quite open to the street. Finally, the people are very dark in complexion ; and most of the women we saw had one or two white chrysanthemums in their abundant jet-black hair. Through the open door- ways, charming courtyards, surrounded by colonnades (patios), were visible, with large trees, great magnolias, and other southern plants in full flower. Certain conditions of mediaeval life in cities were forcibly brought home to us in our wanderings through Cordova in the ram ; for there are here many gurgoyles still in use, and not superseded by pipes, so that small cascades descend from them on to the pavement, sometimes at short intervals. The only great sight in Cordova is the Cathedral ; or, as it is still called, ' the Mesquita' or Mosque. Every one has heard of the Mosque of Cordova, 1 with its fore-court and palms, its low roof, and 1100 columns connected by double horseshoe arches, so no description need here be given. But many persons wonder at the plan of its construction, consisting as it does of nineteen long, narrow, juxtaposed colonnades. To comprehend it one must understand what a mosque is. A mosque is no temple, but merely a shelter from the sun and ram, for worshippers, with an indication of the direction of Mecca. Accordingly an elongated portico may, by itself, answer such a purpose. Let the population increase, and then the increased need of accommodation may be met by the addition of a second row of columns with a corresponding addi- tion to the roof. Let this process be repeated again and again, and at last we shall get such a structure as that we are con- sidering. Very curious is the effect produced on entering, by 1 It was begun in the eighth century, and finished at the end of the tenth. Notes on Spain 199 the vast multitude of pillars and the relatively low roof; and it is the common practice of tourists and guide-book writers to lament the introduction of the lofty Christian sanctuary and choir which is raised in the midst of the low Moham- medan building, because it necessarily intercepts the view through the arcades, and prevents the vast extent of the interior being, at once, readily perceived. To us, however, this soaring Christian edifice, in the midst of the wide- spreading low Mohammedan structure, seemed an apt symbol of the superiority of the creed it ministered to over the religion of Islam. Far from regretting the change effected, the Christian may by it be stimulated to hope that analogous changes may one day take place in the mosques and temples of India. Returning to the hotel, our table d'hote dinner was made interesting by anecdotes from Mr. Rutledge'a abundant ex- perience, showing the changes a few years have effected. When, as a youth, he first visited Madrid, he travelled to it from Paris without stopping, entirely by diligence, a journey of eight days and nights. Early the next day the other churches were explored, and for the first time a Mass was witnessed performed with unedifying haste. We were now, however, in Andalusia, the moral condition of which is generally admitted to be decidedly inferior to that of the more northern pro- vinces. As to material comforts, Cordova is a place which may well be chosen for a somewhat lengthened stay. There is very good society to be had, a first-rate club, and an abundance of game for the sportsman. The great bustard is still common in the adjacent plains, with plenty of the little bustard, sand-grouse, red-legged partridges, hares, and rabbits, and, at the proper time, quails also. In the mountains are wolves, wild cats, a few lynxes, and also boars, red deer, and roebucks ; the three last-named kinds of 2OO Notes on Spain animals cannot be shot, however, till permission has been obtained. Though Cordova is so little to the north of Seville, yet it lies near the mountains, and at a considerable elevation above the sea. The rail, therefore, continuously descends from it to Seville (which is in the midst of a wide plain), skirting the Guadalquiver ; and here for the first time abundant signs of a sub-tropical climate present themselves to the traveller from the north. The prickly pear, and what are commonly called aloes, but are really agaves, form hedges on each side of the railway. Every now and then one sees wide stretches of country having the appearance of an English common with its furze bushes; but what look like furze bushes are reaUy patches of the dwarf palm, which grows naturally on scraps of waste ground all about, even down to the rails. The journey to Seville was performed in a little over three hours and a half, and by six o'clock we were duly installed at the Fonda de los Cuatro Naciones, the best hotel we had yet found in Spain. The charge for everything was 8s. 9d. a day, and the bedrooms were clean, with carpets and mosquito curtains, and the living was excellent. The hotel was situated in the Plaza Nueva, close to the Cathedral. The street door led into a large patio, which had been roofed with glass above, and thus acted as hall, drawing- and reading- room; and here the Times and other foreign papers were regularly taken. The Spanish newspapers give evidence of a kindly and pious sentiment prevalent throughout the country : Spaniards are not content with inserting a notice of the death of their relatives and friends, but they insert a notice of the recurrence of their anniversaries also. On the morning of Wednesday, October 29th, day dawned at Seville soon after five o'clock, and at six it was daylight. Our first sally was to visit the justly celebrated Cathedral, and a very stately church it is; its plan, an enormous Notes on Spain 201 parallelogram, with a central portion and two wide aisles on each side, as also a series of lateral chapels. It is somewhat like the Cathedral of Milan, but of a much purer though late Gothic, and with more bulky, clustered pillars. One great charm of the Cathedral is the brilliant stained glass, which fills every window. Even with the light of Spain, the Cathedral looks gloomy at first. The visitor should not omit to contem- plate the celebrated St. Anthony of Padua, by Murillo, which made a trip to New York and back in 1874. It is placed in the chapel with the font, and in the next chapel is the tomb of Bishop Baltazer del Rio. In this latter chapel the altar is raised on a platform, to which access is gained by steps on one side, while the bishop's tomb is in the front wall of the platform. At the east end, in the Capilla Real, is the great treasure of the church, the relics of St. Ferdinand, enclosed in a silver shrine, placed in front of the life-sized image of Our Lady, which was given to the Saint himself by the canonised King of France, Louis ix. The image is seated on a silver throne, and its hair is of spun gold. But the magnificence of the Cathedral contrasts painfully with the religious indifference of the population of the city. We were informed by a well-informed priest, that out of a population of 118,000, not more than 500 men and 2000 women make their Easter communion, and not more than 5000 men go to Mass on Sundays. We heard that religion has lost enormously since the revolution of 1865, and that too many of the clergy are neither zealous nor edifying ; and although while residing at Seville we saw Mass said with the same devotion as in other parts of Spain, we also saw it said with irreverent haste, a canon of the Cathedral, a young man, not genuflecting even at the consecration, but only drawing his right leg a little backwards, and going away directly after Mass without making any thanksgiving. Still, in spite of the general religious indifference, if a mission is given anywhere the 202 Notes on Spain people flock to it in multitudes, and there is always a great harvest of souls. If only the Church had the liberty in Spain which it enjoys in England and the United States, Spain would soon be again evangelised. Hatred of religion, however, and a spirit of persecution are engrained in the far larger part of the so-called 'Liberals,' and men whose sons are now actually being educated in Jesuit colleges, signed the decree for the expulsion of the Jesuits, and would do it again if called upon by the need of pandering to the irreligious passions of their party. The Church has been robbed most cruelly. No money is to be had for religious purposes, and yet great sums are spent by ministers on ministerial residences and such matters, while the taxes on property, we heard, have risen to the extent of 40 per cent. There is a small Jesuit College in Seville, existing under a precarious toleration, and the Jesuits have another house, but no church of their own as yet. The rainy season was indeed upon us, and only the Cathedral could well be visited the first day. Thus Seville was seen to great disadvantage ; but we think its charms have really been exaggerated. The Plaza Nueva, the principal square, is spoiled by the want of height in the houses which bound it, and if Madrid charmed us by being so much more Spanish than we expected, Seville disappointed us by being so much less different from Madrid than we had supposed it would be. In the evening we went to the large and handsome Teatro San Fernando, where a scanty audience witnessed a couple of very innocent farces, with enormously long intervals between their acts. The next day the weather permitted the visiting of the regulation sights, amongst them the great tobacco manufactory, where three thousand women are employed, hi immensely long stone-vaulted halls, in making cigars and cigarettes. The chatter, closeness, and smell were trying phenomena, and in spite of so many hundred black eyes, by no means disposed Notes on Spain 203 to avoid observation, the whole thing was to us an unpleasing experience. Each hah 1 , or ward, is under the control of a superioress, who accompanies the visitor through it and protects him from the possibly too great obtrusiveness of its other inmates. After this, the least pleasing sight of Seville, we went to one of the most pleasing, namely, to the cele- brated tower of the Cathedral, called the Giralda. This tower, like the Campanile of San Marco at Venice, has no steps within, but only a gently inclined plane, up which a donkey could easily carry a visitor. Moreover, there are many resting- places on the ascent, and large windows on every side at short intervals, and we frequently paused to enjoy the view in the four directions its four sets of windows respec- tively face. Hence, of course, the great plain on which Seville stands can be well seen, a plain bounded on the north by the Sierra Morena and on the south by the very fantasti- cally-shaped mountains of Honda, while to the east are visible the last spurs of the Sierra Nevada range. To the west the widening plain stretches out towards the distant sea. The roof of the Cathedral has a very singular aspect when seen from above. It is like that of a northern cathedral with the wood- work and lead stripped off the undulating stone vaulting being here naked and unprotected by any covering. The house of the Duke of Medina Cceli commonly called the house of Pontius Pilate gives the visitor an excellent, idea of the sort of residence most suitable to the character of the place. It consists of several open courts surrounded by arcades, from which the doors of the bedrooms, etc., open. Such arcades must form delightful drawing- and reading- rooms for summer use, since even at the end of October it was pleasant to sit there without hat or overcoat. Happening, in an afternoon stroll, to look into the Church of St. Pablo, we saw that some ceremony was about to take place there. It turned out to be a special confraternity 204 Notes on Spain service, and one which was fairly attended. The retablo be- hind the high altar was very elaborate, and extended quite up to the roof. It was not Gothic, but of much later date, and ornamented with many life-sized statues. Very high up in the middle line, was a large gold crown surmounting a pair of curtains closed midway, with a candle on each side of them. The retablos are so constructed that men can climb up, about and behind them, right up to the roof. The first thing done in preparation for the service 'was to light the two candles beside the curtains beneath the crown, and then other candles about the retablo and on the altar. Afterwards the rosary was said in Spanish, and then the cur- tains beneath the crown suddenly opened and exposed the Holy Sacrament which they had hitherto concealed. Next followed prayers in Spanish and a sermon, after which we were compelled to leave without waiting for the end of the long service, which is called a manifestation. Circumstances so happened that we had either to miss Cadiz altogether, or to run over to it and back in one day ; we chose the latter course, and therefore started on the 31st of October, at half-past seven in the morning, arriving at Cadiz at 12.50 ; and then returned, leaving Cadiz again at 3.45, and reaching Seville at nine o'clock in the evening. Cadiz is so peculiar, and in many respects so pleasing a city, that it should on no account be missed. There was no time to stop at Jerez, which (apart from its highly ornate Gothic Church of San Miguel) has little interest, save what is connected with its wine trade. As you approach the station next after Jerez that of Puerto de Santa Maria there is a charming view of Cadiz, which seems to rise like an island out of the water. Seen across the bay it looks quite near, and yet it takes more than an hour to sweep round the long semicircular strip of land at the extreme end of which Cadiz stands. We are told that Notes on Spain 205 for those who are in no hurry, it is a good thing to sleep at Puerto Santa Maria (at the Vista Alegre Hotel, by the side of the water), and then to cross the Bay of Cadiz in the morning, when there is a magnificent view of the city of Cadiz from the steamer's deck. Proceeding, as we did, by rail, as you traverse the sandy neck of land which leads to Cadiz, you come upon what at first appears to be a military encamp- ment. As it is more nearly approached the seeming white tents, however, turn out to be nothing but pyramids of salt. Shortly before getting to Cadiz there is on the left (or sea) side of the train a fine large church, with a central dome and two large towers covered with blue tiles, producing a very pleasing aspect. During the last portion of the journey the sea comes close to the railway on each side of it. The line of rail towards Cadiz is bordered not only by agaves and prickly pears, but is bright with white and yellow flowers, with the autumnal-flowering lilac crocus, which yields saffron, with the squirting cucumber, and a large yellow- fruited Solanum. Cadiz, in spite of its decay, is a clean, bright-looking city, with its long and narrow streets made picturesque by a multitude of projecting balconies. Its classical Cathedral is commonly abused, but to us it seemed both a noble and a devotional edifice, and preferable to many a Gothic church. All its altars are made of coloured marbles, with jasper and other precious material, and there are none of the bedizened dolls, which, however they may suit the taste of the native poor, are such a trial to English-speaking Catholics. Thus at St. Pablo's at Seville we noticed (during the ' manifestation ' ) that over many of the altars was a glass case containing a life-sized image, dressed up in clothes, and sometimes with a wig of real hair like a third-rate waxwork show, and forming almost the last expression of degraded taste in religious art. The Cathedral of Cadiz was completed at the private cost of a recent bishop, with the aid of the late 206 Notes on Spain Queen Isabella the Second. There is a charming drive around the city from the back of the Cathedral to the Ala- meda. On each side of the drive are very remarkable trees called 'Sapote,' with short stems and a scanty foliage of longish, thickish leaves. At the market were baskets of arbutus fruit, called by the Spaniards ' madrono.' At the Fonda de Paris we happened to meet a very pleasant young Spaniard who was taking his breakfast, who was delighted to talk English, and was enthusiastic in his praises of Stonyhurst, where his education had been finished. He was about to repair there during the following month for recreation, the pleasure of seeing his old college and his Jesuit friends outweighing the disagreeableness of a long journey and an English November ! This rencontre was a fortunate thing for one of our party ; for the young man hap- pened to remark, ' In your English railway trains you have a compartment specially reserved for smokers, while here it is for non-smokers that such a reservation is made.' Of such a reservation we had never heard, but, acting on the hint, we asked the stationmaster, on returning to the station, for the carriage reserved for non-smokers, and obtained one with a placard duly affixed, in which the return journey to Seville was accomplished without the accompaniment of undesired tobacco fumes. Meanwhile the King had arrived at Seville. His arrival was hours later than was expected, and when it was almost dark. No cheers greeted him, nor was any enthusiasm shown at the theatre, to which he repaired before sleeping in the old Palace of the Alcazar. On the next day, the Feast of All Saints, the Cathedral was early visited ; and one of the first persons met by us in it, was the little Anglican clergyman whom we had left at Menjibar, determined to accomplish a journey to Granada on foot, though unable to speak Spanish. He had not, we Notes on Spain 207 found, been able to succeed in this, in spite of great pluck and perseverance ; and his adventures may serve as a caution to intending pedestrians in Spain. Yielding, to a certain extent, to our persuasion, he had taken the diligence from Menjibar as far as Jaen, and then started to walk, at about one o'clock in the day, in spite of the entreaties of the hotel people (who thought he must be demented) that he would wait for the diligence. He was provided with a knapsack, an umbrella, and a sword-stick. The rain began to descend, and the road became frightfully muddy. He had not proceeded far, when he was attacked by a very large and fierce dog, which a boy in an adjoining field seemed too stupid to call off till our poor friend was almost exhausted by his efforts to keep the dog away by the use of his sword- stick. This difficulty having been surmounted, he was, after a walk of a mile or two further, taken into custody by two gendarmes, who came out of a wayside cottage, demanding his passport. The passport he had unluckily neglected to have vised by the Spanish authorities, so they naturally took him to be some escaped criminal, the only sort of person in Spain who would choose to travel on foot. He was taken into the cottage and searched. Nothing suspicious being found, and cigars being proffered, he was left free to resume his march ; but it was getting dark and no halting-place could be reached ere nightfall. He therefore asked permission to stop till next day at the cottage. This was granted, and he was as well treated as the circumstances allowed. At supper the not-unwelcome stew had to be eaten without plates or forks, by the help of a spoon only, while wine was handed about from one to another in one single glass. At night a bed of straw was made for him and another man in the cooking and dining room, in which two horses, some sheep, and several cats also passed the night. The next day he continued his march in the rain, which came down in torrents. He was 208 Notes on Spain again arrested by gendarmes, and ultimately he had to stop and ask shelter in a village where he could find no inn. With difficulty getting what he wanted, he was compelled by fatigue and indisposition to wait for the diligence, getting into which he made the final stage of his journey to Granada. The ill-effects of these trials having happily passed away, he was now with us waiting to hear the Grand High Mass of the Feast of All Saints. The Cathedral choir was under repair, so the altar was at the west end of the choir screen ; and the canons were seated on benches to the west of this, instead of in their proper ' coro.' The bishop did not appear, neither did the King, for whom a throne on the Gospel side was nevertheless prepared. The music was good ; but there was no assistant priest, only a priest, deacon, and sub-deacon, with acolytes in dalmatics. We were interested to see that apparels were worn on the albs here, as at Milan. There was a sermon and procession, but the attendance of the people was scanty. The canons during the office and procession chatted one to another in a very free and easy way ; and altogether the service was much less impressive than many a High Mass we have witnessed in England. Before leaving Seville, a pious pilgrimage should be made by all interested in the Society of Jesus to the University, for this is the old Jesuit College ; and in its church are in- teresting tombs much older than itself, removed there from the old Carthusian monastery ruined by the revolution. Another effect of revolution has been the change of destina- tion of what is now the Duke of Montpensier's Palace of San Tehno. This palace was an ancient nautical college founded by the son of Christopher Columbus. Ruined and plundered, it was given to the Duke in 1849, and thus (as is the case with so many other establishments in Europe) what formerly was a public good, now ministers but to private luxury. Notes on Spain 209 Robbery of the public for private gain is at once the cause and effect of so many of the so-called 'liberal' measures, which the true English-speaking Liberals blush to see ticketed with so mendacious an appellation. Only the state rooms of the palace are shown to ordinary visitors. They are handsomely furnished with some good and many interest- ing pictures, a large number of which naturally bear reference to events in France the accession and reign of Louis Philippe, etc. On the walls of a sort of cloister (enclosing a central court) is a complete representation of the Corpus Christi procession, as it used to take place in Seville in the old days. All the various orders of monks and friars are represented following in due order ; but heading the procession is a huge dragon, followed by half a dozen giants, made up like those which now figure in our pantomimes, or like the Gog and Magog of the Guildhall in London. The chapel of the palace could not, to our regret, be seen. Beneath it repose the remains of the deceased members of the duke's family ; and it was to this chapel, instead of to the Cathedral, that the King went on this day to hear Mass perhaps led by affection for his late queen, Mercedes, whose by no means pleasing portrait is conspicuous amongst those of the other members of the family hi the reception-rooms of the palace. For one thing the inhabitants of Seville are really indebted to the duke the formation of a garden greatly superior to anything of the kind we had yet seen in Spain. Especially remarkable were the numerous fine palm-trees, which had been planted about twenty years. Although a great number of labourers are employed to keep this very large garden in good order, yet to English eyes it seems a very untidy place, the total absence of greensward being a great drawback to its charm. Of course greensward is an impossibility in the climate of Seville, but the attempt to produce a somewhat similar effect by the aid of a kind of houseleek, is a great VOL. I. O 2io Notes on Spain failure. Seen at a distance, one is led by it to imagine a pleasant stroll over soft grass, while a nearer approach shows but a rough, uneven surface, on which walking, if per- missible, would certainly not be agreeable. From the very modern palace of San Telmo we went, the next day, to that very ancient one, the Alcazar. Having secured an order and taken the precaution to ascertain beforehand that the order would admit us on Sunday morn- ing, we were naturally somewhat taken aback on presenting it to be refused entrance by the surly porter the only surly man we met with in Spain. We insisted, and finally sent in by a subordinate our passports to the superintendent, stating that admission then was our only chance of seeing the palace at all, as in a few hours we had to leave Seville for Granada. The appeal was effectual. The dignified but courteous super- intendent, who met us as we passed inwards, told us that we were admitted by special favour and exception. It would, indeed, have been a loss to have left Seville without seeing the Alcazar. It is, however, better to see it after the Alhambra, instead of, as we did, before visiting the latter palace, since the charm of the Alhambra is somewhat destroyed by seeing the old Sevillian palace first. Though built in the fourteenth century by that Christian king, Don Pedro the Cruel, the Alcazar is a perfectly Moorish building. In fact he employed Moorish workmen, and inten- tionally imitated the Alhambra, which had been just before completed by his Mohammedan friend, the King of Granada, Yusuf I. The name Alcazar means 'the House of Caesar,' and it occupies the site of the ancient Roman praetor's house. It bears the Gothic inscription, ' El muy alto, y muy noble, y muy ponderoso, y conquistador Don Pedro, por la gracia de Dios, Rey de Castilla y de Leon, mand6 facer estos Alcazares y estas fac.adas que fue hecho en la ero mil quatro cientos y Notes on Spain 211 dos,' i.e. ' The most high, noble, and powerful conqueror, Don Pedro, by God's grace King of Castile and Leon, ordered these buildings to be made in the era one thousand four hundred and two.' By the ' era ' is meant the date from the fourth year of the Emperor Augustus, as before 1582 the Spaniards did not date from the birth of Christ. The noble halls of the Alcazar, opening one into the other, with their beautifully decorated walls and slender columns, are full of charm of a certain kind. Graceful in the extreme, the impression conveyed by it is, nevertheless, remarkably contrasted with that produced by the beauty of any analogous Gothic edifice. Perhaps this impression is simply due to subjective association, and to the known co- existence of Moorish decoration and Mohammedan morals. But however this may be, the impression conveyed is eminently soft and sensuous ; nor could a residence seem less well fitted for carrying on anything like the spiritual exer- cises of St. Ignatius. It was, nevertheless, hallowed by the passing away of a saint within its walls ; for here is shown the spot where died St. Ferdinand, who conquered Seville from the Moors. The Alcazar, unlike the Alhambra, is no ruin ; it is actually inhabited. Here the king stayed on his recent visit, and here Queen Isabella occasionally stays. Its walls are brilliant with colour, having been restored in 1857. The climate of Seville is trying to many constitutions, and dysentery is very frequent. The excessive moisture of the season was hurtful to one of us, who looked eagerly for relief to the mountains of Granada, so that, reluctantly, Seville had at once to be left. There is now a train which takes the traveller pretty directly from Seville to Granada, with only two changes of carriage one at La Roda (where he will meet the direct train going from Cordova to Malaga), and one at Bobadilla (whence starts the special line for Granada). Though it was Sunday, many labourers were to be seen at work in 2 1 2 Notes on Spain their fields ; and at Seville (as before at Madrid and Avila), almost all the shops seemed open, as on week-days. A request for a carriage 'reservado para los non fumadores' again had its happy effect, and after an agreeable journey of about six hours we reached the station of Bobadilla, where there is an excellent fonda. Both at this station and at La Roda, handy young lads, with pleasant faces and a pleasant manner, come to take care of your hand packages for you and place them in your next train, a help not to be despised by passengers hurrying for food. On this route Osana and Marchanda should be carefully noted on account of their picturesqueness. Especially charming are the old Moorish walls and towers of Marchanda. The train for Granada started from Bobadilla at a little after half-past six, reach- ing its destination at 10.39. There being no moon, this picturesque part of the journey was for the present lost to us ; but between Seville and La Roda the remarkable moun- tains of Ronda form a conspicuous object on the traveller's right. With the arrival at the capital of the old Moorish king- dom the second step of our journey was happily accom- plished. After the purely Christian and mediaeval Burgos and Avila, after Valladolid and Madrid (cities of the Renais- sance period), and after the altogether peculiar Escurial, we had first met with the monumental expression of the co-existence, side by side, of Moor, Jew, and Goth, in the metropolitan city of Toledo. But in Toledo the triumphant Goth had evidently reduced the others to insignificance. There, beside a magnificent and triumphant minster, are confiscated synagogues and but insignificant though highly interesting mosques. In Seville the Moorish element asserts itself much more. It does so in the court of the Cathedral, in the Giralda, and, above all, in the fascinating Alcazar ; while at Cordova the Cathedral itself is Moorish, and the Saracenic Notes on Spain 213 elements it contains seem to be amongst the most cherished of its sacred relics, and the whole city is redolent of Mahomet and of the East. We had thus, as we gradually approached the land of the Saracens and receded from the purely Christian lands of the north, noted abundant external signs of these diverse influences and of the fluctuations in their relative predominance. Still, the last of the Moorish kingdoms was as yet unvisited, and the charm of its romantic attraction was keenly felt. The day had been hot and dry, and the arid mountains, which succeeded the plains of Seville, had a parched and thirsty look. Dryness is the curse of so much of Spain, and we had traversed so many leagues of burnt-up land unmoistened by any visible rivulet, that the fact of its being such a curse was thoroughly im- pressed upon us. Arriving then in Granada at night, as we approached our hotel, the Fonda de los Siete Suelos (adjacent to the Alhambra), and slowly ascended the lofty hill to reach it, the mass of foliage, and the lofty grove of close-set trees, through which we drove, had much charm, but yet more charming was the rushing sound of abundant gushing streamlets on either hand ; nor did the sound itself cease, for beneath the window of our bedroom a tiny fountain kept up the welcome music, and was the last sound of which we were conscious as we fell asleep for the first time of our lives in what had been the garden of Boabdil's palace in the city of Granada. Full ninety out of every hundred travellers who visit Spain will find Granada the most agreeable of all their halt- ing-places, and when they come to look back upon then* past wanderings, its snowy mountains and fruitful plains, its picturesque ruins, its babbling streams, and its refreshing glades will stand out on the field of memory as pleasurably as vividly. Nor is it only its charm for ear and eye that should be noted, but also the invigorating, health-giving 214 Notes on Spain effect of its mountain air its elevation equals that of the summit of Skiddaw! In spite of a bedroom much like a prison cell, with tiled floor and straw mattress, a refreshing sleep was enjoyed the first night, and in the morning our invalid companion had lost all those unpleasant symptoms which the damp and heavy atmosphere of Seville had induced. The house we stayed hi was, as before said, the Fonda de los Siete Suelos, which takes its name from an adjacent tower of the Alhambra, called the 'Torre de los Siete Suelos,' or the Tower of the Seven Floors. It, and the Washington Irving Hotel opposite it, are situated in the so-called ' gardens ' of the Alhambra, which are, in fact, not gardens in our sense of the word, but extensive plantations of elm-trees, through which steep roads wind in various directions. The hotel charges were sufficiently moderate, i.e. 8s. 9d. a day for a bedroom on the second floor, with meals and attendance. The other hotels are down in the city, and should be made use of by those who care more for convenient access to the churches and other monuments of Granada, than for the Alhambra with its purer atmosphere. Although it was the 2nd of November, the trees still pre- served their leaves, which showed, however, the tinge of autumn. The sun was hot enough to make us gladly seek the shade ; while butterflies were numerous, and lizards darted over the walls or hid amongst the multitude of arums which clothed the ground. Scarcely any ram had fallen here during the recent deluge at Seville. Yet the air was perfectly transparent, and the distant mountains stood out in perfect distinctness against the blue sky, which was for the most part cloudless, though black clouds and pouring rain could be seen far off to the north-west. Granada is built upon three hills on the outskirts of the mighty mountain-chain called the Sierra Nevada, from its cap of perpetual snow. Beneath, is the fertile plain, the Vega Notes on Spain 215 (still kept fruitful by that irrigation from the mountain streams which the Moors established), surrounded on all sides by more or less distant mountains. The Alhambra is like the Alcazar, but larger and more elaborate, though without the brilliant colouring of the latter. Its situation is lovely in the extreme (overhanging as it does the valley of the Darro), and when in the possession of Boabdil must have been a terrestrial paradise. No descrip- tion of it, however, is needed here ; is it not in all the guide- books ? The guide-books, however, are apt to mislead in certain respects. Some of them declare that a fee of one dollar is necessary on each admission to the palace, and also that it is only open at certain fixed hours. Both these asser- tions are untrue. The Alhambra is open throughout the day, and nothing is easier than to arrange to see it by moon- light also. The civil and obliging guardians of course expect something for showing you over on your first visit (and your guide is sure to deserve something for his civility and the pains he takes to show you all) ; but that once over, you can enter and stroll about wherever you like, without any further payment being expected. With the exception of the picturesque external walls and towers, however, 'all the beauty of the "king's palace" is within' and the external aspect of the halls and chambers which so delight you by their interiors is poor and mean in the extreme. After returning from an early stroll through the Alham- bra, to breakfast at the hotel, we descended to the city for the Mass of ' All Souls.' The Cathedral of Granada practically consists of three churches united. The oldest of these is the royal chapel of Ferdinand and Isabella, where the remains of these sovereigns are interred. Connected with this, and directly opposite (due west of it, supposing the whole church to stand east and west), is the parish chapel or parroquia. On the 2 1 6 Notes on Spain gospel (or ecclesiastically 'north') side of these royal and parish chapels is the true Cathedral itself, into which they both open the parish chapel into the western part of the Cathedral nave, and the royal chapel into what would be the transept were there transepts, i.e. opposite the interspace between the sanctuary and the choir. The royal chapel is of the richest and latest Gothic, and it has a complete ecclesiastical establishment of its own. The other buildings are classical. Nevertheless, the Cathedral itself is one of the most delightful churches we have seen in Spain. Like that of Bourges in France, it consists of a nave with double aisles, which continue on all round the apse. As to its proportion and style, it is like a smaller Seville Cathedral dipped in a classical bath of late Renaissance. Over the altar itself is an enormous cupola or dome (called the cimborio) rising to a height of 220 feet, and rich with stained glass and gilding. The effect of this dome is very fine, save that its great weight has necessitated the blocking up of the arches and interspaces, which would otherwise exist between each of the inner pillars round the apse and the corresponding pillar of the external series great stone piers taking the places of such interspaces. The consequence is that, seen from the ' west ' end, while the view up the centre nave is, of course, unimpeded (save by the choir screen), and while that up each outer aisle continues to the end of the church, the view of each inner circle is obstructed by a stone wall, consisting of the first of these great stone piers thus supporting the cimborio. Here (as in other places in Spain) it is in the parish chapel that late Masses are to be got. In the Cathedral proper, there were no Masses after the High Mass. The latter service is impressively performed ; but we noticed no pecu- liarities, save that the serving-boys wore curious ornamental collars standing up round their necks. Unlike Seville, Notes on Spain 217 apparels were not worn upon the albs. Here, as also in Seville, we found much irregularity as to the bell-ringing at Low Mass, there sometimes being none whatever. Mass was also said with the protecting dark cover over the subjacent linen cloths. In the royal chapel are the magnificent marble tombs (in early Renaissance Italian work) of Ferdinand and Isabella, and also of their daughter, ' Crazy Jane,' and her handsome, unfaithful husband Philip. Very beautiful is the face of Jane. Strange was the contrast produced by descending from the royal chapel, with its marble statues, its elaborately ornamented roof, and sides in Renaissance Gothic, its gilded escutcheons, the brilliant colours of its walls and windows, with all the stateliest ensigns of regal magnificence, into the small dark, low vault, wherein rest the plain, iron-bound coffins of the royal dead. Those of the conquerors lie together on a low platform in the centre. Their daughter and her husband repose against each lateral wall. These coffins have never been opened. From the Cathedral we proceeded with a young and agreeable Brazilian gentleman to visit the Cartuja (or old Carthusian monastery) in the suburbs. Returning from the melancholy sight of the suppressed monastery, the visitor should drive to the hospital founded by St. John of God, over the door of which is his statue, and within which his relics are religiously preserved the saint being reverenced by men who would deny to others liberty to follow in his footsteps. The Redemptorist Fathers have, however, now managed to obtain a footing here, and have the care of a small church, and we hear the Jesuits are expected. The religious condi- tion of the city indeed needs such help, being little better than that of Seville. Not but what the churches are some- times well filled. At a handsome church in the Alameda, 218 Notes on Spain where Exposition was going on, there was a large attend- ance. At the door of this church was a very characteristic Spanish beggar. The sturdy, well-built fellow held out his right hand for alms, while in his left hand was his cigarette, between his puffs at which he emitted occasionally a plaintive whine. Many picturesque old streets and curious Moorish remains still exist in Granada. Thus, not far from the Cathedral is a perfect Oriental bazaar of Moorish work; but unfor- tunately its shops are all shut up, as it is not used. The so-called charcoal house, 'Casa del Carbon,' is really an old Eastern caravanserai, with galleries and rooms in tiers all round, for occasional occupants. On the side of the Darro Valley, opposite to that on which the Alhambra is situated, may be found a more curious than attractive collection of ' cave-dwellers ' of our own day. Here is the Gypsy quarter, and more savage dwellings than the caves which they inhabit it would be difficult to imagine. We saw some fifty dances (by previous arrangement with the king of the Gypsies) ; but they were little worth seeing, either for curiosity or grace, though they showed us that the dancing which had excited our surprise at Madrid was really dancing of the Gypsy kind. The Gypsy dances executed were called chochas, vingete, fandango, palanea, and moscas. The head of the Gypsies played on the guitar with ease and dexterity, producing a very pleasing effect. By the road which ascends between the Siete Suelos and Washington Irving Hotels, the visitor gets easy access, first to the Generalife or summer residence of the old Sultans of Granada and then to the nearest mountains. There is little to see at the Generalife" save the outlook from its summer- house at the top, and a pleasant little garden, in which were a swarm of large, beautifully marked and coloured vegetable- eating bugs, walking or flying about. By continuing on the Notes on Spain 219 road towards the mountains the cemetery is reached, which at the time of our visit was being enlarged. The dead are buried either in ordinary graves, or enclosed in recesses which line the walls. In the dead-house were one or two corpses lying in their open coffins. They were thus exposed, because the coffins are so constructed that while the lid is very large and convex, the other part is so shallow as to be nearly flat, so that at first the body lies only on this, the large cover being subsequently super-imposed. The coffins are often brightly coloured, and those of the more wealthy classes are generally profusely gilded. From the cemetery, a turn to the left soon brings you to the highest summits in the immediate vicinity of Granada ; and they should certainly be ascended, for the ascent is most easy and the view magnificent. Beneath, in the Valley of the Darro, is an old, suppressed monastery, now used as the seminary of the archdiocese. The mountain-sides were redolent of thyme and similar perfumes, for here every herb seems to be aromatic, though at this season almost ah 1 are dried up. There were many cistus shrubs (of course not in flower) with euphorbias, a very thorny furze, and a broom. A quantity of very large grasshoppers were disturbed by us in our walk, while two kinds of birds were frequent; one with a very conspicuous white patch on the lower part of the back, and other smaller ones, the note of which was between the quack of a duck and a pig's grunt. Here and there, beside little rills, near the city, the traveller from the North rejoices once more to see the rare sight of a few blades of grass, with peppermint and a white-flowered solanaceous plant. A carriage excursion, which ought certainly to be made, is that to the rounded eminence on the road to Motril, whence the last view of Granada is to be obtained before plunging between the first spurs of the mountains. This eminence is called The Last Sigh of the Moor, ' El ultimo 220 Notes on Spain sospir del Moro,' from the well-known anecdote of Boabdil's plaint and his mother's reproach, ' Weep like a woman over what you could not defend like a man.' The road crosses at one point the dry bed of a river, and traverses two villages, the cottages of which are very superior to many we have seen in Scotland. As usual, the road in the vicinity of the city is execrable; but the country once gained, it becomes admirable, a change due to the difference between municipal and state supervision. Late as was the season, many flowers of mullein and dipsacus, and many wild pinks, bordered the road at intervals; and as we went along it, we overtook several characteristic strings of muleteers bound for the coast. We greatly regretted that the fearful floods which had just taken place rendered a visit to Murcia impracticable. For good horsemen, there is a magnificent road (magnificent for picturesqueness) to Murcia by Guadiz, Baza, and Lorca. Another fine view of the Sierra Nevada (its Alpuj arras por- tion) is to be obtained by a journey to Lanjaron, to which latter place there is a diligence. To naturalists these moun- tains are a field of great interest. Amongst the animals found there is an ibex, believed to be of a different species from that of the Pyrenees, and called Capra Hispanica. Reluctantly we had to leave this charming region to visit the hottest place in Spain, Malaga. Before starting we went to hear Mass in a church within the Alhambra grounds, said by a poor old Dominican friar in the last stage of decrepi- tude. Although the only Mass of the day, but four persons besides ourselves attended it. A sacristan ascended to the organ loft and kept up a most vexatious, tuneless, and in- harmonious jingle during the whole of the service. We started from Granada at half-past eleven A.M., in order to arrive at Bobadilla station at six, to catch the train from Cordova, which is due at Malaga at half-past eight. Having, as usual, secured a first-class carriage for ourselves, Notes on Spain 221 as professed non-smokers, we journeyed comfortably along till we began to ascend the very long rise which carries you over the outskirts of the great mountains which separate the Valley of Granada from that of the Guadalhorce, along which runs the line from Bobadilla to Malaga. Before long our pace began sensibly to lessen, and, as we rounded one inter- minable mountain slope after another, became slower and slower, till at last, to our horror, in the wildest part of the route, not far from the summit of the pass, our train came to a dead stop. Certain news lately received from England made us extremely anxious to get letters which we knew were waiting for us at Malaga. Exasperating in the extreme, therefore, was the coolness with which we were told there was not enough pressure, and that we should have to wait half an hour or an hour to get up steam. None of the native passengers seemed, however, to be in the least dis- turbed. They got quietly out, and smoked with the most perfect indifference to the delay. There are several matters which are trying about Spanish railways. The officials take little trouble. If you get out they will go on without you quite readily ; and at the various junctions we found no one to tell us which train to get into, or where to change car- riages, so that the passenger must ask and find out all for himself, or go wrong. Again, there is no warning given to bystanders when an engine is putting to, and one may easily be knocked down or injured by an open door, or in getting in or out at such times. In less than an hour we began once more to creep up the incline, and the summit once reached we descended merrily enough. In spite of the delay, we reached the junction punctually, and we noticed that though trains were sometimes an hour late at inter- mediate stations, they were generally punctual at junctions and terminations, so great being the time allowed for each journey. 222 Notes on Spain The line from Bobadilla to Malaga is one of the finest bits of railway scenery in Spain, and ought certainly to be traversed by daylight, as we subsequently traversed it. Having reached the most distant city of our trip, we put up at the Fonda de la Alameda (on the Malaga promenade) where we were entertained at the rate of 7s. 6d. a day. The busy, thriving city of Malaga, of prehistoric antiquity, is shut in by mountains, except on the west, where is a small but fertile plain. On the hills about the city are scattered the white country-houses of the merchants. Arid, treeless, and desolate in the extreme, are the mountains of varied and fantastic shapes which enclose Malaga ; but lovely and picturesque beyond description must they have been two thousand years ago, when they were clothed with ample chestnut forests. A little rivulet (the Guadaluredina) divides the city into two unequal portions, winding its tiny way through a wide expanse of stones. A sudden rain of four hours will soon change it into a roaring torrent overflowing its banks and largely submerging the city. Very different must this streamlet, now either noxious or contemptible, have been in the time of the Romans, seeing that the adjacent Guadalhorce, now also so small, was then navigable by their galleys as far as Cartama. Such are the melancholy effects of that reckless destruction of forests which has desolated the whole of Southern Europe. After a night somewhat disturbed by mosquitos, the first place to be visited (on the morning of November 7th) was the Cathedral, a peep at the Mediterranean being taken on the road. We know no beach in England as un- pleasant-looking as that of Malaga, covered as it is with a coarse blackish sand, over which broke the waves of a rough sea. The Cathedral is the least attractive we have seen in Spain, large without grandeur, lofty without grace; its in- terior has a painfully stilted appearance, due to the fact that Notes on Spain 223 the arches which support the roof spring from a series of columns, which are perched on the top of subjacent columns, like an enormously magnified erection made by a child from a box of toy bricks. It is mainly an eighteenth-century structure, and looks like a church of the period of pigtails ! The population of Malaga is, we were told, about the worst in Spain ; and villainous, swarthy faces, not a few, were to be seen at the port. Even in our few strolls there we saw enough of truculent, quarrelsome manners to dispose us to believe what we heard as to the free use of the knife. Their horrible excesses in the late revolution will not soon be forgotten. In the afternoon our courteous banker, Senor Huelin, drove us out to see his sugar plantation in the adjacent plain. The day was very hot, and our carriage became almost covered with flies when we halted near the sugar-mill. The canes were now only about five feet high, but looked thriv- ing. Growing amongst them were quantities of the large purple convolvulus, which is a garden flower in England. We were also shown sweet potatoes, or yams, the taste of which is like that of mashed potatoes, with a very slight mixture of apricot jam. The sugar plantations are profitable enough now, thanks to the protective duties which cause so much natural discontent in Cuba ; but as soon as the Liberal party controls that important colony, their cultivation will have to be abandoned, and the capital sunk in the mills be lost. Hence much of the support which Conservatism now finds in Malaga ! A capital club the Circulo Malagueno is an agreeable lounge for the stranger. There may be found plenty of English, American, and French newspapers. One of the richest merchants in Malaga is Senor Heredia, through whose charming country-house, with its magnificent garden, we were obligingly conducted. The only road to it (unless by 224 Notes on Spain a very long detour) is up the bed of the river, a journey not to be accomplished without joltings indescribable. The heat of the climate was made manifest by the costumes, or want of them, of the country children we passed. To any lover of Nature, a visit to Senor Heredia's garden would be a welcome treat, even if real trials had to be encountered to reach it, in- stead of only amusing vicissitudes as to the centre of gravity, such as those we experienced. In this garden are a variety of magnificent palms and a perfect grove of bamboos, thirty or forty feet high, growing luxuriously, the first shoots com- ing up on all sides like gigantic young heads of asparagus. Also, magnificent specimens of the great lace-leaved arum (Tomelia pergasus) were flowering freely, and huge poin- settias, forming great masses of glorious colour. In strong contrast with the beauty of this terrestrial paradise is another place which should be visited before Malaga is left. This is the castle on the western side of the town. Permission (which is readily granted) must certainly be obtained before viewing it, in spite of what may be said (as was said to us) to the contrary. The ascent is easy, as far as climbing is concerned, but trying, from the extreme filthiness of the streets traversed. Beneath it, yet connected with it, is an old Moorish building, the Alcazaba. From the castle walls you have a magnificent view, bounded on all sides by mountains or by the sea. To the east the mountains advance seawards to the very shore, and their general outline is very picturesque ; but all are dry, arid, and treeless. Only on the tract of flat land to the west is there any verdure to be seen, and there a stretch of the brightest green indicates the fields of sugar-cane. The fortification and fort are, like so much else in Spain, apparently on the road to ruin. Amongst the fruits to be got at Malaga are custard apples (chirimoya), which are sold at stalls in the Plaza de la Constitucion at about 2d. each. It is the custom to drive Notes on Spain 225 at sunset along the western side of the port out to the light- house and back. To us Northerners it was a singular sight to see, in such an atmosphere, close carriages driving up and down, the inmates of which kept every window hermetically closed. One evening a visit was paid to the Theatre of Cer- vantes, to hear the old favourite of the London Opera, Tamberlik, in the 'Trovatore.' He had an enthusiastic reception, as befitted such a veteran tenor, now of sixty-seven years of age or upwards. He was amazingly well preserved. The floor of the theatre is all stalls, each of which costs 4s. 2d. They are conveniently arranged, with a passage down the centre as well as one on each side. The music was pretty good, but the mise en scene very poor. The private boxes are separated only by low partitions, and there is therefore very little privacy in them. One drawback to the pleasure of Spanish theatres is the great length of time allowed between the acts. On Monday, the 10th of Novem- ber, we left Malaga, not altogether with regret, on account of sleeplessness which a few mosquitoes occasioned. Fortu- nately it was still light about six A.M., so that we could write quite well by daylight at a quarter past six. A visit to a neighbouring church for an early Mass on Sunday produced an unfavourable impression as to the piety of the place. About six men and thirty women formed the congregation, none of whom were communicants. Funny little dressed-up dolls of all sizes, in glass cases, were placed over the altars, with heaps of rubbish. Other churches also showed but scanty congregations. The roughness of the sea, combined with the sad state of Murcia, induced us to change our plans and to go to Valencia by rail direct. Under other circumstances, how- ever, another route would be preferable, so before pro- ceeding to mention our experiences further, it may be well to point out to travellers, more venturesome and more VOL. i. p 226 Notes on Spain favoured, what it might be well to do, though by us it was left undone. To begin with, then, if there should be a desire to go to Gibraltar, it had better be visited by sea from Cadiz, and then Malaga can be reached by another short sea-trip. From Malaga, Granada, and also Honda, can be visited, and then the traveUer, having returned to Malaga, may go by sea to Almeria and Cartagena, and thence by rail to Murcia. This course we would strongly advise. Murcia should by no means be omitted by travellers who really desire to see Spain at all thoroughly ; and it should be visited all the more, because it lies out of the ordinary Lines of travel, and is therefore the less modified and modernised. Our friend, Mr. Howard Saunders, the zoologist, who knows Spain far better than many Spaniards (and to whom we were indebted for many useful premonitory hints, and for information concerning that part of the Peninsula not visited by us), declares it to be one of the gems of Spain, the city lying in a fertile valley, studded with date palms, filled in with orange groves, in a lovely setting of mountains. In its market-place are to be seen, on Sundays and holidays, characteristic costumes beyond anything to be found elsewhere in the country. Again, the voyage from Malaga to Almeria (the first stage of the voyage to Cartagena) is charming from the wonder- fully picturesque outlines of the southern mountains, which descend so closely to the shore along the whole of this part of the coast. Almeria itself has a Gothic Cathedral em- battled like a castle, to resist piratical assaults. There is also a club, where foreign newspapers may be seen. It would be well to stay one day at Almeria, and then go on to Cartagena, one of the arsenals of Spain, and memorable for its tenure by the revolted Intransigentes. From this city a convenient tram starts at a quarter to one P.M., and arrives at Murcia at a quarter past three. Notes on Spain 227 Once at Murcia, the best way to proceed to Valencia is by the diligence, which goes in one day by Orihuela to Alicante through a country of many palm-trees, which attain their maximum of perfection at Elche, where they form perfect palm forests, a sight such as Europe does not elsewhere afford. According to the advice before referred to, the best plan is to stay at Elche and send on a message to the land- lord of the Fonda Bossio or to the Fonda del Vapor at Ali- cante requesting that a carriage may be sent out to fetch the travellers in. The road between Elche and Alicante is uninteresting, and it would be a waste of time to go on to Alicante in the diligence (for there is not time to see the palm groves whilst the team is changing, and, besides, during part of the year the diligence arrives at night), and then drive out to Elche and back ; whilst to be near Elche and not visit it would be too serious an omission. There appears to be nothing to see at Alicante, so the best thing is to go on as quickly as possible to Valencia, either by rail or steamer. If by rail, it is necessary to wait for a longer or shorter time at the junction station, La Encina. The best plan is to take the mail train at 4.20 P.M. from Alicante, arriving at La Encina at seven, then dine and sleep there, and go on by the train from Madrid, which tram leaves La Encina at 7.39, and gets to Valencia at eleven. We did nothing of all this, but went direct from Malaga to Valencia by rail, thus performing an immense round in twenty-nine hours, without stopping anywhere. But we ought to have stopped on the way and visited Honda, and in the hope that our readers may do better than we did, we offer them the following hints : The absolutely best way to go, is to ride up from Gibraltar, by which the finest scenery comes under observation. The journey on horseback takes two days, a night being passed at Gaucin, where there is a comfortable Posada Inglesa. The most comfortable 228 Notes on Spain way to reach Honda is by rail and diligence from Malaga. The office for taking places in the diligence is at No. 5 Calle de la Alhondiga at Malaga, and the fare is 16s. (80 reals) for a first-class railway ticket and an outside seat in that part of the diligence which in France is called the ban- quette, but which in Spain is called the cup (the part called coupt in France is called berlina in Spain). The train leaves the Malaga station at 7.15 A.M. for Gobantes station, which is reached about nine. There the traveller will find waiting the diligence, which carries him, with the help of eight horses and mules, to Honda. The road was a short time ago bad, and the driving is careless ; an upset, there- fore, is a thing not to be left out of the calculation. The scenery on the road, however, is fine, and the traveller may be cheered by the sight of a pair of bearded vultures (Gypaetos barbatus). The badness of the road before reach- ing Ronda is, however, as usual, nothing to the vile ways within it ; and the traveller should enter and leave the city on foot, descending from or ascending to his diligence at the entrance to the city. It is much to be regretted that the travelling is not better, as Ronda is one of the great sights of Spam. There is an excellent hotel (Grand Hotel Rondeno), and the air is pure and most exhilarating. The sight of Ronda is its renowned Tajo, or chasm, an abyss spanned by a bridge, whence a grand view is obtained of the boiling torrent beneath, the cliffs of which are frequented by chuyles, kestrels, and large Alpine swifts. All these sights, Ronda, Almeria, Cartagena, Murcia, and Elche, were postponed by us to some more propitious occasion, and starting from the hotel at Malaga at half-past six in the morning we reached our inn at Valencia at half-past eleven on the folio wing morning. After leaving Malaga the first object of interest was Cartama on the Guadalhorce, which river was, Notes on Spain 229 as before mentioned, formerly navigable by Roman galleys to this point, as has been proved by a bronze tablet of river dues, recently discovered. Alora is also worthy of note for its beautiful orange groves, the abundant golden fruit of which is very striking to a visitor from the North. Then after crossing the river, the palms, aloes, oranges, and olives grow rare and rapidly disappear, and we enter upon the most grand and savage scenery to be seen in Spain. The railway traverses tunnel after tunnel, while between them wonderful glimpses are obtained of gorges, in the depths of which are to be descried the foaming torrents of the Gaudalhorce and its tributaries. In the midst of this chaos of rock and foam there is a small station, El Chorro, which does not appear in the railway guides. This is the station where any one who desires to explore this wonderfully picturesque region should alight and spend the day, returning to Malaga by the even- ing train. The next station is Gobantes, already mentioned as being the one whence the diligence starts for Honda. The station after that is Bobadilla (the junction both for Seville and Granada), where the traveller can get a good breakfast. Beyond Bobadilla this railway was as yet untraversed by us. It presents no special features of interest till it terminates at Cordova, which is reached at a quarter past one. Here we had to wait till nearly half-past two (with the consolation of a good buffet), when we entered the train which came up from Seville to go to Madrid, so returning over ground already traversed till we reached Alcazar de San Juan at about half-past twelve o'clock at night. Great was the change of temperature experienced (after our stay at hot Malaga with its sugar-canes) on alighting at this un- canny hour upon the lofty table-land of Central Spain. There was nothing for it, however, but to wait for the train from Madrid to Valencia, which, arriving at about the same time, starts again on its way at a little after one o'clock in 230 Notes on Spain the morning. At half-past four Albacete was reached, famous for its daggers, and in another half-hour we pulled up for rest and a welcome cup of chocolate at Chinchilla. The dawn showed us that the ground was covered with white frost, soon to be dispersed by the glorious sunrise, which was a most beautiful and welcome sight, although good foot- warmers had secured us from any ill effects which might be due to cold. At twenty-five minutes past seven La Enema is reached, where more food can be got, though there is little time to spare, as the train for Valencia starts at 7.39. Here the railway enters a long tunnel, from which one emerges into a very picturesque country, with curiously shaped limestone hills. After passing Montera station an interesting castle is to be noticed. At a quarter past nine o'clock we came to Jativa, the original home of the Borgias and the birth-place of Pope Alexander vi. Here palm- trees once more begin to appear, and soon hundreds of palms and wide stretches of orange groves, with large quan- tities of growing rice, showed that we had returned to a warm southern clime. As we traversed the plain (the fertile huerta) and approached Valencia the cottages reminded us of pictures of certain African villages, each cottage having very low walls, but with very tall, high-pitched roofs of thatch. There was always a cross at the gable of either end. The blue Mediterranean was now in view, and Valencia (the City of the Cid) was reached at 11 A.M. We drove to the Fonda de Madrid in the Plaza de Villarosa, where we were sufficiently well entertained at a cost of about 10s. 6d. a day. Here men and boys took the place of housemaids. Valencia is a city in many ways preferable to Malaga. Like the last-named city, it is thriving commercially, but it is a brighter and much cleaner-looking place, and while less hot, has a deliciously soft and warm climate ; but it is not picturesquely situated, lying as it does on a plain, quite Notes on Spain 231 distant from the hills, yet being miles from the sea, a rail- way connecting it with the port. Our first visit was to the Cathedral, originally a fine church. But it has been modernised (in 1760) in the most frightful manner, the ancient Gothic work having been everywhere overlaid with plaster columns, pilasters, and cornices, up to the very groined roof so that nothing worth seeing is left. There is, however, a very fine lantern or cimborio (over the interspace between the transepts). It is an octagon of two similar stages, with beautifully traceried Gothic windows. There is also a very wide Gothic doorway to the north transept, with a highly ornate wheel-window over it. Amongst the relics of the church is a Bible of St. Vincent Ferrer, with his own manuscript marginal notes. Very interesting to English-speaking Catholics are some altar hangings and vestments which belonged to old St. Paul's (in London) before the Reformation, and which, at that catastrophe, were bought by two Valencian merchants, Andrea and Pedro de Medina. They are richly embroidered with representations from the life of our Lord. In Valencia the visitor is in a part of Spam where Spanish is not ordinarily spoken, and which is exceptional, in some other respects, and seems to show the influence of adjacent Catalonia, the most Gaulish part of the Peninsula. Here the clergy, instead of wearing the large Spanish cloak, wear ferulas. Many of the shops have glazed fronts, instead of the open Eastern-looking fronts of the shops in Andalusia ; yet very many are still open. Instead of a hat, a silk handkerchief is often worn, tied over the head, and forms a rather becoming head-dress. The poorer men often wear no stockings or socks, but only a kind of sandal, with a sort of finger-stall at one end (to catch the extremities of the great and next toes), whence two long strings pass backwards and embrace the ankle. Thence two others pass straight 232 Notes on Spain down, one on each side, to the sole near the heel. Very few bonnets were to be seen, and no wonder, as this is the great place wherein to purchase mantillas as well as fans. On leaving Valencia we felt we had now seen something of the Spanish people in various provinces, and that we liked them much ; we especially liked the peasantry. Their honest coun- tenances speak strongly in their favour, and such intercourse as we had confirmed the impression made by their faces. The townspeople are not so nice as the countrymen. Why is it that men always seem so to deteriorate when collected together in masses ? Still the townspeople are agreeable. They look well at you, both men and women, but never rudely. The eye if met is instantly averted. The men never stare impertinently, nor do the women ogle. They take your measure very quickly, and as quickly look away. They are a far more polite people than are the French. They have not the trick of taking off the hat as to this guide-books deal in much exaggeration but they are generally ready to go out of their way to guide you in yours. They have often a rough, gruff manner at first, which might impress a stranger unfavour- ably ; but if you are only able to speak their language a very little, this rougher manner gives way to a courtesy which impresses you as being hearty. There seemed to be a great deal of equality of a nice kind in the relations existing be- tween different classes. The superior did not forget his self- respect, neither did he ' condescend ' to the poor man ; while the inferior showed no symptoms of aggressive assumption no air of ' I 'm as good as you, and a good deal better ' and certainly no servility. This is one of the triumphs of Catholic influence in Spain. Another is to be found in the national literature. Translations of bad books from the French are now unhappily common enough ; but the grand fact remains that Spanish ' literature ' is the purest in Europe. As to the religious state of Valencia, it is much more edifying than is Notes on Spain 233 that of Seville. Out of a population of 144,000 there are 60,000 who go to the sacraments every month, and at one retreat recently given there were as many communicants. We went to visit the Jesuit Fathers, at No. 1 Calle de Val- diqua, and found among them a Father Francisco de A. Llopart, who spoke English excellently. With great kind- ness he came in the carriage of some secular friend, and took us to see the sights of the city. The Jesuit Church was destroyed at the last revolution ; but they have bought the ground over again, and are just about to rebuild it. There are both Capuchins and other Franciscans in the vicinity of the city. One of the places visited was the church belonging to a sort of house of canons, whose special business is to perform church functions with more than usual solemnity. They chant the office with extreme slowness ; and every Friday there is a special service at ten o'clock, which the visitor should witness. We heard several Low Masses there, and found that an acolyte comes out of the sacristy with a thurible, and offers incense during the elevation at every Mass at every altar. The church is dark, but solemn, and its paintings merit examination. The churches generally, in Valencia, present little of interest within, having been so disfigured by modern alterations. The hexagonal tower of Santa Catalina is a striking object. We found one morning the Church of St. Martin full of mothers and nurses, with infants in arms, as well as with children somewhat older. On inquiry we were told that a confirmation was to be held, and that the infants were to be confirmed. The good priest who told us would not believe us when we informed him that infants were not thus con- firmed by the Catholic Bishops in England. This case of the survival of an ancient custom, once universal, struck us as specially interesting. The cabs in Valencia (called tartanas) are peculiar. 234 Notes on Spain Though built for four passengers inside, who sit face to face, they have but two wheels. The driver sits on a little cushioned seat placed on one of the shafts. The University is a large building, with many students. Its zoological collection is poor. The Jesuits had formerly a museum of specimens from the Philippine Islands, but these were destroyed in the madness of the last revolution. The Alameda, or Hyde Park of Valencia, is, as usual in Spain, visited for drives, after sunset, instead of during the delicious temperature of the afternoons of this season. It had many flowers, some of which were new to us, with large bamboos, beautiful Poinsettia shrubs, and magnolias in full fruit. It is a long drive to the port, or grao, with little at its termination to repay the visitor who is not particularly in- terested in shipping ; but it is a magnificent harbour, with a minimum depth of twenty feet. Returning thence to the hospital, we passed through the magnificent mediaeval gate- way the Puerta de Serranos built in the middle of the fourteenth century, with two grand polygonal towers flanking a rather stately pointed archway in the centre, with beautifully traceried panelling above it. The hospital is a very large and solid structure, more than two hundred years old, which was built for its present purpose. It consists of four very long and wide halls, which meet at a central point, where there is an altar. Each hall is like a church, with a nave and side aisles, two rows of round stone pillars, with gilt capitals, supporting a groined roof, and separating off the aisles. Over these halls are four other similar ones those below being for the men, and those above for the women. One portion of the women's space is partitioned off for those who have come for their confine- ment. In addition to all this there is a foundling hospital for infants. The infants are not placed in a turning-box as formerly, for the mothers have now to enter with them at Notes on Spain 235 night; but their children are taken in at once, and no questions are asked. There were many little infants lying in tiny beds, arranged all round a large room. In an adjoining apartment were wet nurses at work. The whole establishment is under the care of Spanish Sisters of Charity, who are somewhat differently dressed from the French sisters. Everything was very clean and neat, the kitchen especially, the walls of which were covered with glazed tiles to about six feet. There are several chapels in different parts of the building. Each of these belongs to one of several confraternities of Valencian ladies, who respectively undertake to look after different departments of the whole institution. The shops of Valencia are noted for their mantas, silver goods, fans, and mantillas; but the stranger should not venture to buy without the advice of a well- informed friend. The living at the hotel is fairly good, but saffron is a too favourite flavour. A dish of rice with saffron is one which appears daily at the table-d'hdte, and a great business is done by large saffron merchants in the city. Saffron is the threefold stigma of a crocus (crocus sativus), which is plucked and dried just when the flower is fully expanded. No one should omit to see the Casa Lonja, one of the finest civic buildings in the world. It is situated on the market-place, opposite the Church of St. John. It con- tains a magnificent hall, 130 feet long and 75 feet wide, with stone pillars and groined roof like a church, with nave and aisles. It was built in 1498. On November the 13th we left Valencia and went to our last stopping-place in Spain Barcelona. Much to our regret, circumstances did not allow us to see Tarragona. Every visitor who can see it should, however, do so, for it is one of the most interesting cities in Spain, with a mild, delicious climate (which is said to be dry and bracing), and with excellent sea-bathing and a clean and comfortable hotel. 236 Notes on Spain There is a magnificent old Cathedral, as to which Mr. Street says : ' This is certainly one of the most noble and interesting churches I have seen in Spain. It is one of a class of which I have seen others upon a somewhat smaller scale (as, e.g., the Cathedrals of Lerida and Tudela), and which appears to me, after much study of old buildings in most parts of Europe, to afford one of the finest types, from every point of view, that it is possible to find. It produces, in a very marked degree, an extremely impressive internal effect, without being on an exaggerated scale, and combines in the happiest fashion the greatest solidity of construction with a lavish display of ornaments in some parts, to which it is hard to find a parallel.' We left Valencia at half an hour after noon, and reached Tarragona at half-past eight in the evening. The railway mainly skirts the sea, and the traveller has many charming views of the coast. Castellon, where there is a buffet, is reached about half-past two. It is noted for its picturesque costumes ; and here the painter, Francisco Bibalta, was born. This is the spot to embark at in order to visit the group of small volcanic islands the Columbretes so called from certain snakes once there found, but which seem to have fallen a sacrifice to the indiscriminating voracity of pigs, which had been introduced by the lighthouse-keepers. At Alcala there is a fine church-tower, and opposite it a noticeable castle. Three miles to the east of the next station (Benicarlo) is a miniature Gibraltar, only connected with the mainland by a narrow strip of sand. It was at this place that Pope Benedict xm. took refuge after his censure by the Council of Constance. At Vinarez the rail quits the sea, and so avoids the agueish swamps of the delta of the Ebro, but it returns to the seaside after reaching Tortosa. This whole coast is wonderfully bright and riant, and it was with much regret Notes on Spain 237 that we saw the daylight fade. Very noticeable were the little country churches that we passed, which were cruciform, with four short and equal arms, and a central dome. They were, therefore, quite Byzantine in character, an interesting sign of the past history of this region. After half an hour's stay at Tarragona, darkness made the rest of the journey a blank to us till we reached Barcelona at midnight. The very comfortable quarters at the excellent Hotel de las Cuatro Naciones on the Rambla del Centre, were most welcome. As might be expected, the terms here were more expensive 12s. 6d. a day, all included ; but a well-furnished room and an ex- cellent bed, with good fare, made us contented. We went to sleep with pleasurable anticipations of much enjoying our last Spanish city one at once so thriving and progressive, con- taining so many interesting antiquities, and where a friend expected us, bent on showing us a warm hospitality. Alas ! the next morning our friend called to say that his sister, his parents' only girl, had just died of typhoid fever, of which there was an epidemic in the city. It was so indeed. Every church we entered was draped in black, and everywhere funeral Masses were being celebrated. Barcelona is traversed (from north-west by north to south-east by south) by a wide street called the Rambla, with a broad central path, with an avenue of trees for foot- passengers, and a carriage-road on each side of this shady promenade. Two hundred years ago this was the ditch for the city's drainage. Barcelona has finer shops than any other city in Spain, and has a very French aspect. It is prosperous and thriving, with a great deal of active piety and religious zeal, and with a great deal of revolutionary opposition to religion also. Here the best lace is to be bought, with fine blankets, scarlet and white, or blue and white, and handsome curtains for windows and doorways. There is but little of national or provincial costume, but the 238 Notes on Spain men wear a peculiar kind of cap, something like the Jacobin cap of liberty. The Cathedral of this prosperous Spanish Manchester, without the Manchester smoke, is a rather small one. Yet from its skilful and artistic construction it looks much larger than it really is unlike St. Peter's at Home, which is so dwarfed by the gigantic human figures which are depicted within it. There is a very wide nave, the west end of which is roofed by a lofty and elegant octagonal lantern. Beneath the high altar is the shrine of St. Eulalia (the patroness of the church), and a flight of steps leads down into her crypt-like chapel. The east end is apsidal. The multitude of altars is one great peculiarity of this church, for not only are there chapels round the apse and on each side of the nave for its whole length, but there are chapels round three sides of the cloister, those on the side of the cloister which is next the church being back to back with the lateral chapels of the nave, a window over each cloister chapel giving light into the adjoining chapel in the nave of the church an altogether peculiar arrangement. Very fine and interesting churches are Santa Maria del Mar and Santa Maria del Pilar. The latter, with a wide nave, without aisles, but with lateral chapels, and with a terminal apse, is quite in the style of the churches of the South of France, at Carcassonne and its neighbourhood, and the general similarity of the ecclesi- astical buildings of these two regions bespeaks a common influence. Indeed, in this Catalan-speaking part of the Peninsula you are no longer really in Spain. The Town Hall is an object of much interest to the lover of Gothic ; especially the Casa Consistorial, on the north side of which are fine Gothic windows, with a large image of St. Michael, with metal wings. The University has a numerous attendance of students, and should also be visited. In the Rambla is a very fine Jockey Club, handsomely furnished and provided Notes on Spain 239 with every convenience, even with an excellent riding-school and a stable for the horses of its members. At the moment of our visit, a fine young Spaniard was exercising in this school, who, on seeing an Englishman (he was a friend of our introducer), began to praise the visitor's country, and, above all, Stonyhurst and its fathers, who had completed his education. Our intention was next to visit the far-famed Montserrat, which can be visited in one day, taking the morning train on the Zaragoza line to Monistrol, and thence ascending on foot with a native guide for (as we learned from our well-instructed informant before-mentioned) the windings of the carriage road are such that the diligence to the monastery does not allow you time to get to the top before it departs again for the 5.40 return train. The visit can better be made in two days r going up from Martorell and coming down by Monistrol, or vice versd, and the accommodation is clean and good. This, unhappily, we could not see, for a letter received by one of us compelled a start home by the next train. Accordingly we left Barcelona at 2.20 P.M. on November 16th, taking tickets for the express to Paris via Bordeaux. Those who have no need to hurry would do well to stop at Gerona, with its early, very peculiar Cathedral, also at Narbonne, Carcassonne, and Toulouse. But we would advise no one to stop at Perpignan, on account of the unsanitary horrors of its hotel. Our journey to Paris ought to have been accomplished in twenty-eight hours. The Spanish part of it was punctually performed, but the French express, which should have arrived at Bordeaux one hour and twenty minutes before the departure of the express from Bordeaux to Paris, was more than that late, so that we had to continue on thence by a slow train, the journey occupying in consequence one-and-thirty hours ! The carriages between Barcelona and the frontier are most excellent, but here, for the first time, we had a 240 Notes on Spain little difficulty in getting one reserved for non-smokers, because just before we came to Barcelona two English- men had asked for such a carriage and, having got it, pro- ceeded to smoke, as the indignant stationmaster (Gefe") told me, ' Not cigars, senor, but pipes ! ' However, his severity relaxed, and we left Spain with our usual Spanish luxury of a first-class carriage to ourselves. We reached Cerbere, the frontier, at a little after eight. The French authorities examined our luggage very slightly, but rigorously de- manded passports or visiting cards, and, in spite of all that is often said, no stranger should travel without his passport, which is very often useful, and sometimes necessary. At the buffet we found the meat as tough as anywhere in Spain, and the bread certainly inferior to the Spanish bread. We also had much less comfortable railway accommodation. On asking for a non-smoking carriage we were told, as usual, that smoking was forbidden everywhere a delectable plan, which throws all the unpleasantness of objection upon the traveller who objects to nicotine. Accordingly, our first French guard addressed a passenger in the train, saying : ' The law forbids you to smoke, sir, but take notice, if you please, it is not I who object, but these English gentlemen !' On waking at daybreak, as we got towards Bordeaux, we found the change of climate to be very evident. Our windows were coated inside with ice, and all the ponds we passed were frozen. From Bordeaux to Paris we had again an unpleasant journey from the crowding of the carriages, owing to the custom of putting third-class passengers for whom there is no room, into first-class carriages. However, Paris and the welcome Hotel Continental were at last happily reached. Our notes in Spain have terminated, but we would, before concluding, feign record one visit paid in Paris on our way back to England. This was to the now famous Jesuit school at 18 Rue Lhomond (formerly Rue des Postes), and to its Notes on Spain 241 most agreeable rector, the Reverend Pere du Lac, one of the most charming men it has ever been our fortune to meet. On the wall of the courtyard of the college are a number of marble tablets, each inscribed with the name of a student who fell fighting for his country in the war of 1870, and also with the name of the engagement in which he feh 1 . The contrast shown by the courage of these youths, compared with the disgraceful behaviour of the Paris Reds who, though eager for murder, had no taste for fighting Germans ought never to be forgotten. The dissolution of such establishments in the prostituted name of liberty is an outrage on civilisation. Surely now all men of equitable minds, whatever may be their religious views, should protest in favour of freedom (as understood in the United States and England, and as understood by such men as M. Jules Simon) against the passionate and sectarian Jacobinism which has managed so widely to usurp the fair name of ' liberal ' on the continent of Europe, and threatens to ruin civilisation by an invasion of barbarism and brutality, not, as in the days of the breakdown of the Roman Empire, by incursions from without, but from beneath. Spain gives to the Christian visitor many signs of promise and many causes for fear. It is a land full of interest, which we are very thankful to have been permitted to see. Satisfied with what we have done, we would conclude by saying to others, ' Go and do likewise.' VOL. I. MONUMENTA RITUALIA ECCLESLE ANGLICANJE. Monumenta Ritualia Ecclesice Anglicance. 3 vols., second edition. And The Ancient Liturgy of the Church of England. 1 vol., third edition. By WILLIAM MASKELL, M.A. Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1882. WE welcome with much satisfaction this new edition of Mr. MaskelTs valuable liturgical works, enriched as it is with upwards of two hundred additional pages of text and notes. The author tells us that these books are chiefly intended for the use of the clergy and laity of the Reformed Church of England. Such, however, is the purely historical and uncon- troversial spirit in which they are written, that they will be welcome to members of all Churches, or of none, who may desire to become better acquainted with our ecclesiastical antiquities. The rapid advance during the last half-century both of historical knowledge and of wider (therefore more tolerant) views, has tended largely to augment the number of persons likely to be interested in such books as Mr. Maskell's. So great, however was the ignorance of our com- mentators on the Prayer-book, even up to 1846, that the appearance of his first edition marks a distinct epoch in English ecclesiology. Such ignorance was partly due to that indifference to the near past which has hitherto so widely prevailed, to the despair of historians, and against which we may hope the acceptance of the doctrines of evolution and continuity may protect our successors. It was also largely due to the contempt and aversion long felt towards the rites and ceremonies which for a thousand years were practised in all our churches and cathedrals. But its third and most impor- Monumenta Ritualia Ecclesice Anglicante 243 tant cause was the thoroughness with which the destruction of our ancient liturgical books was carried out in the sixteenth century. How great that destruction was may be realised when we note, on the one hand, the extreme rarity of our ancient service books now, and, on the other hand, the amaz- ing number of them which existed in mediaeval times. Every one of the 10,000 parish churches of England had (as we may judge from the extracts given from thirteenth-century inventories) a variety of service books. Besides these, there were the books of the multitude of chapels, chantries, and hospitals, while the monasteries and cathedrals possessed their hundreds of liturgical volumes. Great as was the destruction of them under Edward vi., a further destruction occurred under Mary, owing to the orders of her Government to destroy and replace the books which had been mutilated and altered by command of her father. Mr. Maskell's first volume contains the order of baptism, confirmation, matrimony, visitation of the sick, extreme unction, burial, and forms for blessing church ornaments, churches and churchyards, bells, water, bread, etc. Preced- ing these are two highly instructive dissertations on the number and nature of the old service books and on occasional offices. Instead of the Bible and Prayer-book of our day, there were anciently a number of different volumes, such as the Breviary, Psalter, Antiphonal, Processional, Ritual, Ponti- fical, Missal, etc., no less than one hundred and three kinds being enumerated and explained. Indeed, in very ancient times the more modern Missal itself was represented by no less than four books namely, the Gradual, Lectionary, Evangelium, and Sacramentary. Of all these many books, among the rarest are old English ' Pontificals,' or books containing the services performed by bishops. Although the Anglican Church actually possesses no such work, it was once very nearly possessing one, as in 244 Monumenta Ritualia Ecclesicz Anglicance 1643 a design existed ' touching the drawing and digesting of an English Pontifical.' The times, however, were too impropitious for the execution of the project, which seems never to have been renewed. Of ancient English Pontificals there are three or four in the British Museum, two at Cambridge, one at Bangor of the year 1270, one in Paris, two at Kouen (one of 1050), and lastly one at Exeter, which is of special interest as containing, in English, the order for admitting a candidate into a religious fraternity, in which order the word ' prebendarye ' is used as synonymous with ' monke ' ! The service book containing the daily office sung in all cathedrals and abbeys, and daily to be recited by every priest, is the Breviary. The modern Breviaries consist of four parts, named after the four seasons, but the old English Breviaries consisted only of two a pars hiemalis and a pars cestivalis. Our Sarum Breviary is said to have been printed first in Venice in 1483, and last at Paris in 1557. The favourite prayer-book of the rich and noble was a small modi- fied form of breviary called the Horce Beatce Virginis Marice, or office of the Blessed Virgin. Thus copies of this book are often remarkable for the luxury of their ornamentation, as well as interesting from the autographs of noble or royal personages occasionally to be found in them. For in medi- seval times the practice existed of writing an autograph, with a request for prayers, in a friend's Horce B. V. M., as we now put a signature, with a verse or sentence, in a friend's album. One such copy which came into the possession of the author (generously presented by him to the British Museum) is especially remarkable for the number of royal autographs it contains. It appears to have belonged to a lady of the Court in the time of the seventh and eighth Henries, and marks the degradation from royal rank of Queen Katherine and her daughter. Among other things it contains ' A prayer of St. Monumenta Ritualia Ecclesice Anglicance 245 Thomas of Aquyne, translatyd out of Latyn into Englyshe by the moste exselent Prynces Mary, daughter to the moste hygh and myghty Prynce and Prynces Kyng Henry the VIIL and Quene Kateryn hys wyfe, in the yere of oure Lorde God MCCCCCXXVII. and the xi. yere of here age.' The words 'Prynces' and 'Quene' are erased and blotted with ink. Among the autographs are those of Henry VIIL, Katherine of Arragon, and the Princess Mary, with others of Henry vn. and Elizabeth of York, as follows: 'Madame, I pray you remember me, your louyng maister, Henry R.' ; and ' Madam, I pray you forget not me to pray to God, Elysabeth ye Quene.' Confirmation was given at an early age in England in mediaeval times, as it is now in Spain, a heavy penalty being inflicted on parents who should delay it till their children were more than seven. In connection with this rite it appears that bishops have still legal power to change or add to the Christian name of any person whom in confirming they may choose to address by name. This view rests upon a decision with respect to such action of a bishop in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Strange things seem to have been done by some Anglican bishops and dignitaries before 1688. Church plate was, at least sometimes, consecrated by them down to 1641, and, according to Sandford, holy oil was con- secrated for the coronation of James n. One interesting custom appears to have existed in England down to the Reformation which has now generally disappeared save in the Gallican Church. This custom was the blessing and distribution of bread among non-communi- cants, probably like that which may be still seen (the pain benit) at high mass in France. That this custom was a popu- lar one is shown by the declaration of the Devonshire rebels in 1549: 'We will have holy bread and water made every Sunday.' Early in the fourteenth century this appears to have 246 Monumtnta Ritualia Ecclesia Anglicance led to irreverent eating and drinking in parish churches, a recurrence of an abuse existing even among the primitive Christians, as we know by St. Paul's Epistle to the Corin- thians. Mr. Maskell's second volume is devoted almost entirely to royal and episcopal functions. The legend of a miraculously given oil of unction was current in England as well as in France, and a supplementary legend respecting it appears to have been propagated to add legitimacy to the consecration of Henry iv. That a quasi-ecclesiastical character was sup- posed to be conferred in coronation is shown by the right of the newly crowned Roman Emperor to act at his coronation mass as sub-deacon to the Pontiff, and to sing the gospel on Christmas Eve. We also have an instance of the survival of a practice once general in the right of the Emperors and Kings of France to communicate in both kinds at their coronation. This does not appear to have been practised by the mediaeval Kings of England, though a chalice of uncon- secrated wine was handed to them as an ablution after their communion. As it was needful that the sacrament should be received fasting, it is not surprising that we meet with records of the fatigue resulting from so long a ceremony, with directions for the arrangement of a curtained-off apart- ment, by St. Edward's shrine, for royal use, communion being over. Our author's third volume is mainly devoted to the Prymer, or common vernacular prayer-book of pre-Reforma- tion times in England and some other parts of Europe. The Prymer of the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries contained the little office of the Blessed Virgin, the seven peni- tential psalms, fifteen other psalms, the Litany of the Saints, the Dirge, the Pater, Ave, and Creed, the Ten Commandments, a list of the seven deadly sins, and various prayers. It had great resemblance to the book commonly known among Monumenta Ritualia E celestes Anglicance 247 modern Roman Catholics as the Paradisus Animce, or ' Garden of the Soul.' The Prymer differs, perhaps, princi- pally from the latter by its not containing so many devotions to the Holy Sacrament and prayers respecting communion a difference probably due to the much rarer practice of communicating which seems to have prevailed in the later mediaeval period. Attendance at the breviary offices, as well as at mass, appears to have been then universal. ' For Holy Church hoteth alle manere puple Under obedience to bee and buxum to the lawe, Lewde men to labore, lordes to honte, And up on Sonedays to cesse, Godes seruyce to huyre, Both Matyns and Messe, and after mete in churches To huyre here eve-song euery man ouhte.' We thus see how great a mistake is made by those who imagine that the difference between the pre-Reformation and post-Reformation services was as great as the differ- ence between the service in an ordinary Anglican and a Roman Catholic church of the present day. The services attended continued to be under Elizabeth as they had been under Henry Matins, Communion, and Evensong. That the laity were excluded from the chancel in old times is shown by an order (of Bishop Kirkman, of Durham, in 1255) that no layman should be suffered in the chancel at Divine office, except it might be the patron or some such distin- guished person. Besides the Prymer, the third volume contains Calendars, Litanies, the fifteen oos (orationes) to Jesus, prayers to pro- per (i.e. guardian) angels, a form of confession, indulgences in English, an exhortation to communion, the bidding of bedes, and the office of King Henry vi. who so narrowly escaped canonisation. Mr. Maskell's separate volume, on the ancient liturgy, is perhaps the most interesting of the whole four. Many per- 248 Monumenta Ritualia Ecclesice Anglicana sons probably read without note or understanding those words of the Prayer-book which declare that ' whereas here- tofore there has been great diversity in saying and singing in churches within this realm; some following Salisbury use, some Hereford use, and some the use of Bangor, some of York, some of Lincoln ; now from henceforth all the whole realm shall have but one use.' What these 'uses' really were it is the object of this separate volume to show, and in it the communion services of Sarum, Bangor, York, and Hereford are given side by side in parallel columns. These various customs seem to have gradually grown up in and from Saxon times, as the Roman liturgy, modified more or less by different bishops, gradually spread over England after the coming of St. Augustine. The most cele- brated of them, that of Sarum, was drawn up by Bishop Osmund in 1085, and became generally adopted in the south of England as well as in various other parts of the country. In 1414 it was adopted in St. Paul's Cathedral, London, and the old use of St. Paul's seems to have disappeared entirely. Though the other uses continued to be practised till 1547, very few examples are extant, and of that of Lincoln there is but a small fragment. The differences between these vari- ous 'uses' are, after all, but very trifling (concerning mere matters of detail), and almost nothing compared with the differences between them all, and the Communion service of the first Prayer-book of Edward vi. given at the end of the volume. It is much to be regretted that so little can be ascertained about the venerable ' use ' of the ancient British Church. It is highly probable that this closely resembled the old Gallic liturgy (an account of which is given at page iv), and had considerable affinity with the Spanish Mozarabic rite, which may still be witnessed, somewhat modified, in the south-western chapel of the Cathedral of Toledo. It has Monumenta Ritualia Ecclesice Anglicancz 249 been impossible, in the space at our disposal, to give anything like so full an account as we could wish of the contents of these very instructive volumes. Many interesting topics on which they treat we have not been able even to refer to, but we cordially recommend the work as full of interest for even the general reader, and as a very mine of valuable material for the student of ecclesiastical antiquity and the Church historian. A DEVONSHIRE RELIC. TN the valley of the River Dart, midway between its rise -*- amongst the bleak and lofty tors of Dartmoor and its picturesque and umbrageous opening into the Channel, a tract of verdant meadow lies between receding hills on the west and the river's winding course on the east ; the treach- erous and rapid Dart here leaps and flows over a rocky bed, its left margin bounded by steep cliffs and densely wooded heights. In this secluded spot there came in the last quarter of the tenth century (a com of Louis v. of France, lately found amidst the Abbey ruins, carries us back to not long after A.D. 986) a colony of black-robed monks, 1 who then founded what afterwards became the great and wealthy Abbey of Buckfast, 2 situate between the towns of Ashburton and Buckfastleigh. By the evidence of Doomsday Book, we learn that the Superior of Buckfast, Abbot Alwine, then owned consider- able estates in Devonshire, some of which appear to have been received from King Canute. Amongst their subse- quent benefactors was one Ethelward de Pomeroy, and the lion rampant of the Pomeroys found its place on several 1 It is not improbable that Buckfast was one of the many west-country abbeys which owed their existence or revival to the zeal of St. Dunstan. There is no doubt but that it was at first Benedictine, and was for a time affiliated to the Abbey of Savigny. For this and other facts relating to the ancient history of Buckfast I am indebted to an admirable work by Mr. J. Brooking Rowe, F.S.A., F.L.S., etc., entitled Contributions to a History of the Cistercian Houses of Devon. 2 Spelt variously in different documents, as Buckfestria, Bocfasta, Bug- fasta, Bulfestre, Bulfestra. A Devonshire Relic 251 parts of the Abbey buildings. A deed of Henry n. is still extant confirming the Abbey in its possessions, and this document bears the signatures of Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, and of his successor, the martyr St. Thomas, as yet only a layman, and the King's Chancellor. At an un- certain period 1 after the middle or near the close of the twelfth century, the monks of Buckfast assumed the white habit of St. Bernard, and thenceforth till its suppression it ranked amongst the best endowed of our Cistercian Abbeys. Richard i. confirmed the possessions of these monks shortly before his departure for the third Crusade, and we have an order from his unworthy brother to the Abbot of Buckfast to deliver up whatever vessels and jewels might have been confided to him for safe keeping. In 1286 the abbot and monks became members of the Merchants' Guild of Totnes, and there is evidence that the Abbey helped to support the hospital of St. John, at Exeter. Amongst the Abbots of Buckfast may be mentioned one William Slade, who was abbot in 1414 a distinguished theologian, spiritual guide, scholar, and artist, who added greatly to the convent library. In 1421, a dispute having arisen between the then Abbot, Beaghe, and the monks, an award was given by certain arbiters, and solemnly read in the chapter-house. It was thereby settled that the Abbot was to entertain guests and strangers according to the ancient and worthy usage of the Abbey, and that the servants of the monastery were to wait upon them according to his instruc- tions. It was also decided that the Abbot, being advanced in years and much crippled by disease, should no longer interfere in the house except at the request of the Prior and 1 The Abbey of Savigny (with which Buckfast became connected, and which was the parent of the abbey founded by Raoul de Fugeres and John de Landere in 1112) became Cistercian in 1148, when its fourth abbot surrendered the house and its dependencies into the hands of St. Bernard. Some of the English houses affiliated to Savigny were disinclined to follow this example. 252 A Devonshire Relic others; and it was further stipulated that he should not obtain privileges or exemptions from Rome to the detriment of the Order. On the other hand, he was to receive an annuity (of 40 ?), paid quarterly, and his travelling expenses were to be borne by the convent when he went out on business connected with his dignity as Abbot; while if he rode outside the monastery for his own recreation, he was to be accompanied by a proper retinue, but at his own expense. It is doubtful whether or not there was an abbot named Pomeroy in the year 1500. It would be an interesting fact if a representative of the Abbey's ancient benefactors was among the latest of its rulers. Its last Abbot was one Gabriel Donne, or Downe, first a student of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, and subsequently a Cistercian monk at Stratford. He was employed by Cranmer and others to apprehend Tyndale, and appears to have been the author of a plan which resulted in Tyndale's capture and death. In 1536 he was made Abbot of Buckfast, by King Henry vin., who employed for the rum of the house that singular combination of unscrupulousness as to ends, and legality, when possible, as to means, for which he was so remarkable. In two years after his forced election, Donne carried out the intentions of his patron by surrendering the Abbey, thus breaking his recently made oath and violating his sacred trust in the interest of his sovereign's rapacity. For this act the sacri- legious perjurer was richly rewarded. He received an annuity of 1800 of our money, with the rectory of Stepney sine cura, and was made first a prebendary and then a canon residen- tiary of St. Paul's, with episcopal jurisdiction in the city and diocese. 1 1 He died in December 1558, and was buried before the high altar of Old St. Paul's. By his will he founded a scholarship at Cambridge, which still exists, and is called ' The Gabriel Downe's Scholar.' His arms, azure, a wolf rampant (!), a chief argent, are still to be seen on the roof of Trinity Hall Chapel. A Devonshire Relic 253 At the time of the surrender there were but ten monks * in the Abbey, and six of these were still receiving pensions in 1553. The Abbey and lands were first granted by King Henry to Sir Thomas Dennis. In 1629 they belonged to Sir Richard Baker, the historian. They then passed to the family of the D'Oleys, when the lands were divided. The Abbey's site was bought by a Mr. Berry, who sold it to Mr. William Searle Benthall, and it was, till quite lately, held by Mr. James Gale of Plymouth. The arms of the Abbey present an example of that play upon words, technically called a rebus, of which the mediaeval men were so fond. The arms of Buckfast display a buck's head made fast by means of an abbatial crozier. They are : Sable, a crozier in pale, argent, the crook, or, surmounted by a stag's head caboshed, of the second, horned, gules. Very few remains of the old Abbey now exist, yet enough to show the vitality of the institution almost to its suppression. The most important relic which survives is a handsome and substantial tower of four stories, popularly known in the neighbourhood as the Abbot's Tower. It is in the Per- pendicular style of architecture, and therefore shows that building went on almost tih 1 the Abbey's final suppression. The tower is quadrangular, with a curiously irregular stair- turret at one angle, and a still more interesting superimposed series of small chambers. The Abbey remained unin- habited till 1806, when its owner raised the now existing house on the site of, and with materials derived from, the old Abbey buildings. He built in the best Gothic of his day, and the house, with trifling changes of here a door and there a window, may pass even now as a fairly good Gothic building. Elsewhere a number of fragments of walls and 1 Their names were : Arnold Gye (Prior), John Cowle, John Watts, Richard Taylor, William Shapcott, Matthew Pryston, Richard Splat, Thomas Gylle, William Avery, and John Doyge. 254 A Devonshire Relic foundations, and two venerable arches the north and south gateways still remain. But it is this Abbot's Tower, so well preserved as to be easily again made habitable, which forms the really material survival of the ancient Abbey of Buckfast. A few words may now be said as to its juridical and spiritual survival Amongst the old documents connected with the Abbey, still extant, are several which relate to lawsuits about water- courses, fisheries, and other matters concerning abbatial rights and privileges. The late owner, Mr. James Gale, with much labour and at no small cost, maintained and re-established various of these old traditional rights. One of these was the right to form, from the river, a fish-pond for the Abbey's use at any part of the property ; another was the obligation of a neighbouring mill-owner to keep in repair a certain water- course, and to sustain in good order a bridge over the Dart, although it rested with the Abbey's owner to do away with the bridge altogether at his pleasure. There were, beside other privileges, curious examples of juridical survival. As to things spiritual, since the monks of the sixteenth century died out, they have, as readers are probably aware, been generally represented in England by some members of the majority of the old Orders, and the Benedictines especially have never altogether failed out of the land. Conservative in the midst of change, in spite of the ruin and depopulation of the abbeys, and in spite of the introduction of a new hierarchy of only one province by Pius ix., the Benedictines of the English congregation both still elect their titular Abbots of Westminster, Glastonbury, etc., and have, till quite recently, maintained both the two old provinces of Canterbury and York. As to new Benedictine creations in England, there is the Priory of Belmont, near Hereford, with its rich church of dressed ashlar within and without, where the Divine Office is again day by day solemnly chanted. There is also Downside, A Devonshire Relic 255 with its noble cloister and stately minster, slowly rising, with transepts now completed. Cistercians again have a home in England ; their white habit is once more to be seen amidst the black hills of Charnwood Forest, Leicestershire, where the mitred Abbot of St. Bernard's Abbey adheres to the austere Cistercian rule with rigid accuracy. The Carthusians, the Protomartyrs of King Henry, have again a home in Sussex, where also the Premonstatensians represent, near Arundel, the former inhabitants of Bayham Abbey, near Frant. Never- theless, our old monastic ruins all remain in their desolation. For two hundred and fifty years, indeed, our abbeys had passed through many forms of destruction, when they began to benefit, through the havoc wrought in the old Christian monarchy of France by the unchaining of revolutionary passions. For then it was that the generous reception accorded by England to the persecuted priests of the Gallican Church began a movement amongst us which has resulted in that tender, almost religious, care with which our old mon- astic remains are now in general so scrupulously preserved. Meantime, in France the flow of irreligion abated, and little by little there appeared, first here and then there, a few tender shoots, and afterwards a vigorous upgrowth of renewed religious life. Amidst the early days of this second spring, on the 24th of April 1809, there was born of a peasant family, at the little village of Vireaux, in the diocese of Sens, one John Baptist Muard. As a boy his piety was remarkable, and by his perseverance in it he overcame the great reluctance his parents entertained to his embracing a clerical career. In 1823 he entered the Junior Seminary of Auxerre, and led for years after his ordination the life of an exemplary secular priest. This life, however, did not satisfy him. It seemed to him that he was called to an emphatically religious life, and such a life he attained first in one form, and afterwards in another and more complete one. At the outset of his 256 A Devonshire Relic religious career he succeeded in restoring the venerable Abbey of Pontigny. He thus became closely connected with England through its saints. For Pontigny sheltered for a time the exiled Thomas a Becket; while enshrined in its church lay, and still lies, the body of St. Edmund Rich, whose name he associated with his first religious fraternity. 1 Pere Muard felt, however, that he was yet far from having attained his ideal. His Edmundian Fathers were not real monks, and his desire was to be one of a company of monks at once austere, learned, and practical. Seeking light, he first made a prolonged retreat at the Cistercian monastery of Septfonds, and then, with his bishop's approval and blessing, set out with two companions on a pilgrimage to the Holy See. He repaired to the revered sanctuary of Subiaco, where its abbot placed at his disposal the hermitage of St. Lorenzo. Here he passed in tranquil- lity and prayer the latter part of the revolutionary year of 1848, and then went on to Monte Cassino, where the love he had already conceived for the Benedictine life became augmented and matured. After paying his homage to the Pope at Gaeta, Pere Muard returned to France, and, with some chosen companions, took up his abode in a desert tract known as Morvan, in the diocese of Sens, and there founded the abbey afterwards known as that of ' Pierre-qui- Vire.' It was on October 3, 1850, that he and his disciples put on the Benedictine habit and took their vows, and five years later his company was canonically affiliated to the Reformed Benedictine Congregation known as the Cassinese, of primi- tive observance. Before this, and after a few years passed in the most edifying manner, Pere Muard died, on June 19, 1854. Such was his reputation for heroic virtue, and so many 1 The P6res de St. Edme". A Devonshire Relic 257 and so noteworthy were the favours believed to have been obtained through his intercession, that the preliminary steps to his beatification have been undertaken, and so far carried through successfully, by the French bishops. From the monastery he founded there arose four others in France and one in North America. A sixth French house was just starting into existence when the recent suppression of the religious orders in France took place. The expelled Benedictines of Pierre-qui-Vire, with the novices of the con- gregation, under the vigilant and zealous direction of their prior, Father Thomas, found a temporary resting-place at Leopardstown, in Ireland. But that country was not destined to be their permanent abode. They had to do work more in accordance with the tradition which Pere Muard had instituted. He had begun his apostolic career by restoring, as has just been said, the venerable house of Pontigny, and his disciples afterwards restored the historic Abbey of St. Benoit-sur-Loire, in the diocese of Orleans. It was reserved for his expatriated children to regain, and, it is to be hoped, to re-edify, a third, yet more venerable and to us far more interesting, monastic relic. In the month of September 1882, news came to them in Ireland that an old English abbey could be obtained by purchase. Without the loss of a single day they determined to see it, and set out to carefully inspect it. They came to Buckfast, approved of it, and bought it, 1 and on the 28th of the following month a community of Benedictine monks once more took possession of the forlorn and long-deserted abbey on the Dart, and on the next day Mass began to be said. Thus, for the first time since the expulsion of Abbot Feckenham from Westminster, have Benedictine monks re- 1 The deed of purchase bears date the 19th of June 1883, which was also the anniversary of Pere Muard's death. VOL. I. R 258 A Devonshire Relic gained possession of an ancient English abbey, and it is one of the most venerable of them all, which is thus the first to be restored. Moreover, the continuity with the fact thus brought about is not only spiritual and material, but even juridical. For this old England of ours, at once so Conservative and yet Liberal, is so tenacious of old customs, that the monastic community thus re-installed near Totnes enters at once into possession of the former owner's legal claims ; and thus it comes about that the present Superior of Buckfast actually now enjoys those ancient abbatial privi- leges which the late proprietor, as has been already men- tioned, succeeded in re-establishing. As to material continuity, that is secured by the pre- servation and scrupulously careful restoration of the Abbot's Tower. Once again have its venerable walls vibrated to the midnight bell of the Christmas Mass, and to the joyful Pange lingua of the Corpus Christi procession. Material continuity is also to be further secured by the buildings which the present community contemplates erecting. Their desire is to rebuild their noble Abbey in its ancient style, with stalls for sixty monks ; and two cloisters, one for the professed fathers, and another for the novices. They wish first to build a chapter-house, library, refectory, dormitories, and work-rooms for the various handicrafts (including bookbinding, and, it is hoped, book-printing) which the monks themselves carry on. In all the externals of religion the present community desire to renew the broken links in the chain of old English monastic life, and in Church furniture, vestments, and ritual, to follow the old models, and to really be what their neighbours deem them to be, ' the old monks come back again.' They wear the large monastic tonsure, and not only have the habit of St. Benedict, but keep to the letter of his rule. Thus in the details of daily life, as well as in faith and A Devonshire Relic 259 doctrine, we have here complete spiritual continuity also. Like the old monks, the present religious of Buckfast abstain perpetually from meat, and equally so when compelled to be out of their monastery as when within its walls. Solemnity and good order hi all that regards Divine worship is one special end of their institute. Daily they rise at two o'clock to mattins, and daily tierce and vespers are sung, and the whole office is sung on the greater feasts, instead of being, as on other days, recited in monotone. Study and manual labour both enter into their life. Preaching is hereafter also to form a part of it, not hi imitation of preaching friars or the mis- sionaries of more modern Orders, but in accordance with old Benedictine tradition. They contemplate sending out at intervals small companies of religious to preach and sing, and solemnly celebrate the Divine mysteries hi places where Catholic worship and doctrine are unknown. Although now, as before in the days of St. Augustine, St. Bernard, and St. Francis, the new community which has thus come amongst us consists mainly of foreigners, yet the Buckfast monks are of several nationalities. The prior, the Reverend Father Thomas Dep^rou, belongs to the very ancient and honourable race of Basques, and he is aided n his labours by a Scotch father possessed of experience, erudition, and good taste. 1 To those who share the religious faith of these good fathers their advent cannot be devoid of interest, and to such they may appeal with confidence for sympathy and aid. But not to them alone. There are very many members of the Anglican Church who will feel hearty sympathy with, and be, we would fain hope, right willing to help on, the good work of restoring Buckfast Abbey, a work to which antiquarians and the lovers of history and of ecclesiastical antiquity can hardly be indifferent. To all persons belonging to the categories just mentioned the utility 1 There is now a mitred Abbot. "* 260 A Devonshire Relic of the new establishment must be apparent. But, indeed, an appeal hi favour of the Abbey on the ground of its utility may reasonably be made to all persons who are Theists, even if they do not share hi any distinctively Christian belief whatsoever. For such persons must see how de- ficient are most of their fellow-men in the amount of thanksgiving they render to the Author and Sustainer of all life. No thoughtful man while admiring the beauties of creation, or enjoying the multifold benefits which spring from the harmonious co-ordination of its parts and powers, can but feel impressed with the insufficiency of his own acts of grateful recognition and reverent homage. To one so impressed, the knowledge cannot be unwelcome, that there is a new community of men in the land, whose whole lives are set apart to atone for and supply the neglects of others. Neither can it be unwelcome to him to know that he may hi some measure make up for that in which he has hitherto been lacking, by generous efforts in support of those who thus give forth a continual tribute of praise and thanks- giving. Day and night, whilst their fellow-citizens are engaged hi the laudable or blameworthy pursuit of ga pleasure, there may be heard at Buckfast those venerable canticles of the Hebrew Psalmist, which have for so many centuries given articulate expression to the highest emotions of the best men of so many nations. Should some hasty objector be inclined lightly to value vicarious good works, let him for a moment consider what weight he would attach to vicarious evil works. Qui facit per alium facit per se cannot be applied to ill-doing only, and the spontaneous common-sense of mankind recognises the debt we owe to those who aid us by causing others to do us good. And if these considerations apply to ' thanksgiving/ they apply no less to ' intercession.' The number of men in England who disbelieve in the efficacy of all prayer is small indeed. But A Devonshire Relic 261 even avowed Agnostics cannot deny its good results, or they would thereby renounce their system. They cannot be sure that by gaining the prayers of good religious they will not benefit themselves and those dear to them. Ah 1 Englishmen, then, whether Agnostics, Theists, or Christians of whatever grade, must recognise the possible, probable, or certain utility of the special restoration now in progress, while it has special claims on the lovers of history, antiquity, and art. Very large, then, must the number be of those persons who will be glad to learn the here-stated facts concerning the renewed vitality of this relic of the ancient religious life of Devon, and who wiU hail with satisfaction the old Abbey of Buckfast, as it once again takes its place in the annals of the Church in England. 1 1 Since the above was written, a committee, of which Lord Clifford of Chudleigh is chairman, have, with the help of a small grant from the Society of Antiquaries, made a thorough exploration of the foundations of the ancient Abbey buildings, which turn out, most providentially, to be entirely within the land purchased by the monks, and also of such small dimensions as to be just suited t<> the wants of a modern community such as that now at Buck- fast. It is also fortunate that these old foundations are placed very con- veniently with respect to the modern house. They are in excellent condition for rebuilding on, and 3000 will be saved on the work of re-edification, which, it is hoped, may soon be begun. These ancient foundations are those of a church a little over 2l)0 feet long by 55 broad. There are transepts, which extend 85 feet from north to south ; there is a square east cud with chapel to the rear of the high altar. The cloisters have also been explored, and each side is 95 feet long by 12 feet broad. The sacristy, chapter-house, pantry, lavatory, refectory, and kitchen have also been discovered ; while the house of the lay brothers appears to have occupied the site of the existing house and space beyond it. Altogether, nothing could well be more auspicious and encouraging than the works thus far carried out. The Abbot's Tower has been carefully restored, and one side of the cloister, with the refectory, kitchen, and dormitory, has been admirably rebuilt on the old foundations, and in their former style, by Mr. P. A. Walters, architect. A VISIT TO SOME AUSTRIAN MONASTERIES. "OESIDES the solid, historic investigation as to ' what has -*-* been,' and the philosophic inquiry as to ' what will be,' there is the, if less practical yet ever interesting, speculation as to ' what might have been ' a speculation to which ex- ceptional circumstances may give an exceptional value. As the 'advanced' Radical programme now avowedly includes the disestablishment and disendowment of the National Church, and as (to our very great regret) such a step seems to approach nearer and nearer to the area of practical politics, the phenomena presented by the very few remaining churches which yet continue in the enjoyment of their landed property, can hardly be devoid of interest to those who really care about matters either of Church or State. A Teutonic land, such as Austria, admits of a more profitable comparison with England than do countries which are peopled by the Latin races. Moreover, the Austrian Church, like the Church of England, still survives in wealth and dignity, and thus strongly contrasts with the Churches of Spam, Italy, and France, as well as with those of Northern Germany. But not only is it thus exceptional, but it is yet more so in the possession of monastic institutions of extreme antiquity, which still retain possession of large domains, even if their estates may have been somewhat diminished. The vast and wealthy Austrian monasteries which are to be found in the vicinity of the Danube may enable us to form some A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries 263 conception of what our St. Albans and St. Edmunds, Glaston- bury and Canterbury might now be had no change of religion ever taken place in England, and had our abbey lands continued in the possession of their monastic owners. Besides such considerations of general interest which induced the present writer to visit these rare examples of ecclesiastical survival, there were others of a personal nature. When a mere boy he had found in his father's library and read with great interest a presentation copy of Dibdin's charming account of his antiquarian tour in France and Germany. 1 Therein were graphically described his visits in August 1818 (in search of manuscripts and early printed books) to the great monasteries of Kreinsmtinster, St. Florian, Molk, and Gottwic, as also to Salzburg and Gmunden, with vivid pictures of their artistic and natural beauties. The strong desire kindled in a youthful imagination to follow Dibdin's footsteps and see sights so interesting and so rare having, after persisting undiminished for thirty years, at length been gratified, it may not be uninteresting to compare what the traveller saw in 1885 with Dr. Dibdin's observations made exactly sixty-seven years before. 2 The centre from which these monastic visits can best be made is the bright, clean, busy city of Linz, and to Linz accordingly we went after pausing at Wurzburg, Nuremberg, Regensburg, and Passau by the way. The Danube journey, from Passau to Linz, was performed on the 19th of August, a day which felt more like November, so great was the cold. To one who comes fresh from the Rhine, the wildness of the Danube is very striking. The latter river, with its long stretches of forest intervening between the rare and scanty 1 A Bibliographical, Antiquarian, and Picturesque Tour in France and Germany. By the Reverend Thomas Frognall Dibdin, D.D. Second edition. London, published by Robert Jennings and John Major, 1829. In three volumes. 2 See vol. iii. pp. 217-276. 264 A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries signs of man's handiwork, still presents much of the aspect it must have worn in the days of Tacitus, especially its lofty frowning left bank, the old Frons Germanice. At Linz the Erzherzog Karl Hotel is pleasantly and conveniently situated close to the steamers' landing-place, and its windows command a pleasant view of the Danube and the heights on its opposite shore. Good carriages and horses can also be hired at the hotel ; and one was at once engaged to take us next day to pay our first monastic visit namely, that to the great monastery of St. Florian, 1 the home of some ninety canons regular of St. Augustine. The day was delightful, the open carriage comfortable with its springs and cushions in good order, and a very civil coachman, with a smart coat and black cockade, drove our pair of spirited bays briskly along a pleasant road which, after for a time skirting the Vienna railroad, turned south and began between fields and woodlands to ascend the higher ground whereon the distant monastery is perched. The greensward of a picturesque wood we traversed was thickly spangled with brilliant blossoms of Melampyrum nemorosum. This lovely little plant requires more than most others to be seen alive to be appreciated, as its coloured leaves become invariably and rapidly black when preserved for herbaria. Nor can it be a very common plant, as, though we repeatedly looked for it, we never saw it in any of our country rambles save in this one wood. The true flower is a brilliant yellow drooping tube, while the blossom is made up of several of these surmounted by a crown of brightest blue or purplish bracts that is, modified foliage leaves. 1 St. Florian is said to have been a soldier and martyr of the time of Diocletian, who was thrown from a bridge with a stone tied about his neck. He is a popular taint in Bavaria and Austria, though not nearly so much so as St. John Nepomuk. He is usually represented in armour pouring water from a bucket to extinguish a house or city in flames, and is popularly esteemed an auxiliary against fire. A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries 265 In a short time the spires and cupolas of St. Florian's began to appear above a distant wood ; they were again lost to sight as we descended a declivity, but soon the whole mass of the vast monastery came gradually into view during the last ascent. Though its community celebrated five years ago the thousandth anniversary of their foundation, none of the buildings, save some fragments of the crypt, are even of mediaeval date, the whole having been rebuilt during the reign of the Emperor Charles vi., who reigned from 1710 to 1740. To English ideas it has rather the character of a palace than a monastery, and indeed within it are apartments destined for imperial use, to lodge the sovereign and his suite when visiting this part of his dominions. Passing the small village immediately without the monastery's walls, we drove within the first enclosure, and, having sent in our letters of introduction, were conducted into the church, wherein vespers had just begun. It is a stately edifice, rich in marble and gilding, and provided with handsome pews (carved seats with doors) throughout its nave. The choir is furnished with stalls and fittings of rich inlaid woodwork, while at the west end of the nave is the celebrated organ, which has more stops than any other in Austria, and three hundred pipes, which have now, just as at the time of Dibdin's visit, completely the appearance of polished silver. The woodwork is painted white, richly relieved with gold. ' For size and splendour,' he remarks, 1 ' I have never seen anything like it.' The office was but recited in monotone by less than twenty of the canons, each having a short white surplice over his cassock. 2 It was no sooner finished than a servant advanced 1 Loc. cit. vol. iii. p. 242. 2 It should be recollected that these religious are not Benedictines but Augustinians. Part of their ordinary dress consists of a singular garment which, by a zoological analogy, may be termed an ecclesiastical ' rudimen- tary organ. Over the black cassock is worn a long and very narrow slip of 266 A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries to invite us to see the Herr Prelat, or abbot, whose name and title is Ferdinand Moser, Propst der reg. Chorherrenstifter St. Florian. We found him in the sacristy, a man of about sixty, of pleasant aspect, with a manner full of dignified but benevolent courtesy, such as might befit an Anglican bishop or other spiritual lord of acres. Ascending a magnificent staircase to the richly furnished abbatial range of apartments, we were soon introduced to the librarian, Father Albin Cxerny, a venerable white-haired monk, who had been for three-and- forty years an inmate of the monastery. Our first visit was to the library, consisting of one handsome principal room, with smaller chambers opening out from it, and rich with 50,000 volumes, many having been added since they were gazed at by the English bibliographer, our predecessor. We were greatly interested to find that there was yet a lively tradition of Dr. Dibdin's visit, and were shown first the por- trait, and afterwards the tomb of the abbot who had received him ; and, to our great satisfaction, the librarian at once took down from a library shelf the three volumes of Dibdin's tour (which had been presented to the monastery by their author), and turning to his description of the scene around us, spoke with just admiration of its engravings, and with touching kindness of his predecessor in office the Father Klein (now long since deceased), who had received with so much docility the bibliographical doctrines 1 of his English visitor. Amongst the books of the library is an elaborate German flora in many quarto volumes with a coloured plate of each species, as in our Sowerby's English Botany. There is a very fine refectory and large garden and highly ornamental conservatory or winter garden for the abbot's white linen hanging down in front and behind, and united by a tape round the neck. This odd appendage is, we were told, a much diminished survival of an ordinary monastic scapular of a white colour which was worn by them in former ages. 1 Loc. cU. p. 257. A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries 267 use, but thrown open to the public except on great feast-days. The imperial apartments are richly and appropriately decor- ated, and the banqueting-hall is magnificent. The royal bed- rooms were strangely mistaken by Dibdin, as the librarian pointed out, for monastic ' dormitories.' l By the kindness of the superior the very same treat was given to us as had been given to our predecessor in 1818. We were taken to the church, where, seated in the stalls, we listened for the best part of half an hour to a performance upon their world-renowned organ. Our experience was much like that of Dr. Dibdin, who wrote : 2 ' To our admiration the organ burst forth with a power of intona- tion (every stop being opened) such as I had never heard exceeded. As there were only a few present, the sounds were necessarily in- creased by being reverberated from every part of the building ; and for a moment it seemed as if the very dome would have been un- roofed and the sides burst asunder. We could not hear a word that was spoken ; when, in a few succeeding seconds, the diapason stop was only opened . . . and how sweet and touching was the melody which it imparted ! A solemn stave or two of a hymn (during which a few other pipes were opened) was then performed by the organist . . . and the effect was as if these notes had been chaunted by an invisible choir of angels.' Our last visit was to the spacious crypt, around the interior of which lie (above ground) in bronze sarcophagi the bodies of the abbots and of a few of the monastery's bene- factors, while in its centre are the remains of the other members of the fraternity, each in a cavity closed by a stone engraved with a name and date, and reminding us of the catacombs of Kensal Green. Here lie all those whom Dibdin saw. In another sixty-seven years will this monastery be still enduring, and another visitor in 1952 be shown the resting- places of those on whose friendly faces we ourselves have gazed ? 1 Loc. cit. p. 243. 2 Loc. cit. p. 242. 268 A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries Austria certainly shows a marvellously tenacious power of endurance, and in spite of many political changes has been so far singularly exempt from revolutionary destruction. No lover of antiquity, no one who rejoices to see yet surviving social phenomena elsewhere extinct, can fail to exclaim Esto perpetua ! The convent l of St. Florian still possesses, as we have already said, its old landed property. This property it does not let out either on lease or by the year, but it is its own farmer, all the work, whether of arable land, pasture, or forest, being performed by hired labour exclusively. Though the community is so large, yet the number within the monastery is almost always much less. This is because the convent possesses not only its lands, but also (as did our own monasteries) the right of presentation to various livings. These are still no less than thirty-three in number, and members of the community are sent out to serve them, but they are liable to recall at any moment. A considerable number of the canons are also sent out to act as professors in different places of education. Upon the death of an abbot his successor is freely elected by the members, who assemble from all parts for the occasion. Neither the Pope nor the government has any right of nomination, or even of recom- mendation, but the government can veto the election of an obnoxious individual. This right of veto, however, has been, we were told, very rarely exercised. The abbey farm has a large supply of live stock. We saw sixty-seven cows in their stalls, and they seemed very well looked after. The abbot has his own private carriage and horses, and we saw twenty-six horses of different kinds in the stables. The collection of pigs was very large, and included some which had recently arrived from England. They were 1 The word ' convent ' properly denotes the community, whether male or female, which inhabits a religious house. The word ' monastery ' denotes the dwelling-place itself. A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries 269 shut up in four dozen pens, the whole of which were enclosed and roofed over by a very large and solid outhouse. It was with some surprise that I found the superior of this great abbey was as unable to converse either in French or English as was his predecessor when visited by Dibdin. He and the librarian were both, however, well up in English politics, and we were playfully reproached with our late Prime Minister's sentiments towards Austria, nor could we but feel surprised at hearing Mr. Gladstone's questions as to ' where Austria had done good' quoted in this secluded monastic retreat. After cordial farewells, a rapid drive soon carried us back to Linz, in time to escape a storm which had been for some time observed approaching. Long-continued reverberations of thunder resounded amongst the mountains, and the city was illuminated by rapidly repeated flashes of extreme brilliancy. The next day was set apart for a visit to our first great Benedictine house that of Kremsmiinster. Although material progress enabled us for this purpose to dispense with the use of horses, yet we rather envied the conditions under which Dibdin had visited that monastery. ' By eleven in the morning,' he tells us, 1 ' the post-boy's bugle sounded for departure. The carriage and horses were at the door, the post-boy arrayed in a scarlet jacket with a black velvet collar edged with silver lace ; and the travellers being comfortably seated, the whip sounded and off we went uphill at a good round cantering pace.' Our pace, on the contrary, was of the slowest which a stopping-at-every-smallest-station train could be credited with. We had to start from our inn at Linz at a quarter past six, and we did not accomplish the whole journey from door to door in much less time than that hi which the about equally long journey to Kremsmtinster from Ginunden was made by road sixty-seven years before. 1 Loc. dt. p. 216. 270 A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries As we approached Kreins, the mountains of the Salzkam- mergut stood out boldly on the horizon ; but more striking to us was the prodigious monastery, with its Babel-like observatory tower, the whole mass of its buildings rising from an elevated hill overhanging the village of Krems at its base. By good fortune, close to the station, we overtook a monk on his road home, who kindly escorted us by a short cut through the monastic gardens, of which he had the key, up to the monastery and to the Prelatura, when, after a short wait hi an ante-room, the abbot, Herr Leonard Achleitner, came and invited us into his study (an elegant apartment furnished hi crimson velvet), where he read our letters of introduction. The courteous prelate lamented that official business called him away from home, but, after inviting us to dine and sleep, consigned us to the care of a pleasant young monk, by name Brother Columban Schiesflingstrasse, who was careful that we should fail to see and learn nothing which it interested us to inspect or to inquire about. The huge abbey an eighteenth-century structure, though its foundation dates from the eighth consists of a series of spacious quadrangles and a large church similar in style to that of St. Florian, save that the choir is a western gallery, and that the decorations generally are not so fine. This great house is the home of one hundred monks, three hundred students, and many servants. As was the case with the Augustinians, so also here, many of the monks are non-resident, being appointed to serve the twenty-five livings to which the abbot has the right of presentation. The abbot is freely elected for life by the community. An applicant for admission amongst its members need not be of noble birth or the possessor of any fortune; but if he is the owner of property, he must make some contribution on his admis- sion. The novitiate lasts for a year, and for four years A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries 271 longer the newcomer is free to leave if he likes. After that he is held morally bound, but not legally so, as now the arm of the law cannot be employed to force back any monk who may desire to leave. The youngest members are provided with one cell for each pair, but when more advanced each has a room to himself. The monks who act as professors have each two rooms, the prior has three rooms, and the abbot a whole suite of apartments. They have much land, none of which is let to farmers, being entirely cultivated by hired labour, except, of course, the forests. These are to be seen from the abbey windows extending up the sides of dis- tant mountains, and our host assured us they were richly stocked with deer and roebuck, pheasants, and partridges. As to their church services, they do not rise at night nor extraordinarily early. All their office is but recited in mono- tone ; and the matins of each day are said the evening before, not in church, but in a room set apart for that purpose. They do not have high mass even on Sundays, but only on great festivals, when each wears a cowl in choir. On all other occasions they only wear their ordinary black cassock and scapular without any hood, nor have they, any more than the Augustinians, a large monastic tonsure. The abbot, in spite of his stately lodgings and his im- portance, ordinarily dines with the community in their refec- tory ; and no special dishes are served at the high table, but only those of which all are free to partake. At the time of our visit, the students and most of the professors were away for their vacation, and we could but inspect the means and appliances of learning. The immense tower, at the summit of which is the observatory, has each story devoted to a scientific collection of a different kind. Thus there is a large collection of fossils and minerals ; another of chemical materials and instruments ; another is a cabinet devoted to physics, and there is besides a 272 A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries moderately good zoological gallery, and also some skeletons and anatomical preparations. Lining the whole staircase, and also in other parts of the tower, are some hundreds of portraits in oil of former students, each one with his powdered wig, and all anterior to 1799. Every portrait is numbered, but unfortunately in the troubles of the Napoleonic wars the list was lost. It was to us a somewhat sad sight to see this multitude of young faces about whom no one now knew anything, not even a name lifelike shadows of the forgotten dead ! At Kremsmiinster, as at St. Florian, there are royal apart- ments and also a picture gallery, a gallery of engravings, and other galleries of old glass, china, and objects of vertu. In the church treasury are many relics, much plate, and ex- pensive vestments some given by the Empress Maria Theresa. There is, however, hardly anything mediaeval, except a very large chalice of the time when communion in both kinds was partaken of by the laity. The library contained, we were told, no less than 80,000 volumes; but to our regret, we had no time to properly inspect even a portion of its contents, though some things in it are very curious and others beautiful. There is an elabo- rate manuscript treatise on magic with illustrations, and another on astrology. A book of the Gospels of the eighth century is wonderful for its most beautiful writing, and there are various ancient missals admirably illuminated. The works treating on the different physical sciences were, we were told, not in the general library, but in separate depart- mental libraries for the use of each professor. We did not succeed in ascertaining that there was any record or recollec- tion of Dr. Dibdin's visit. The librarian, however, was away for his vacation. The gardens are attractive, with many interesting plants and various greenhouses; but the most interesting object A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries 273 external to the monastery was what at first sight might be mistaken for a sort of campo santo. This consisted of a large space, in shape an elongated parallelogram, bounded by a sort of cloister with an open arcade of pillars and round arches. This space was traversed at intervals by passages similarly arcaded on either side, and these passages con- nected the two arcades on each longer side of the parallelo- gram. In each rectangular space, thus enclosed by arcaded passages, was a large fish-pond abundantly furnished with fine trout or gigantic carp. The walls of the quasi cloister were hung round on every side with deer's heads and antlers, and the venerable monk who went round this place with us assured us they had all been shot by members of the com- munity, he for one having been a very keen monastic sports- man in his younger days, as were many of his colleagues now, who found good sport in their well-stocked forests. From the fish-ponds we were conducted to the monastic lavatory, and thence to the refectory, with many hospitable regrets that our visit should have taken place on a Friday, with its consequently restricted table. In the refectory we were received by the prior, Father Sigismund Fellocker, a monk devoted to mineralogy. The party having assembled, all stood round and repeated the ordinary monastic grace, after which, being placed at the prior's right hand at the high table, we all fell to amidst a lively hum of conversation, no one apparently being ap- pointed to read aloud during an obligatory silence, as is usually the case in monasteries. The dinner consisted of maigre soup, omelettes, sauerkraut, excellent apple turnovers, and crayfish. Before each monk was a small decanter of white wine, made at one of their houses in Lower Austria, for at Krems the vine will not ripen enough for wine-making. Dinner being over and grace said, the prior and most of the monks retired ; but the sub-prior VOL. i. s 274 A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries invited us and another guest with two monks to sit again and taste some choicer wine, white and red, which we did will- ingly, for the rain was pouring in torrents, and we could not leave. Droll stories and monastic riddles went round till coffee came, and also the hour at which we had intended to depart. Not liking, however, to begin our long and tedious railway journey to Linz wet through, we accompanied our kind young guide, Brother Columban, to his cell, where, at our request, he played with skill and taste air after air upon the zithern till the clouds cleared and he was able to escort us, as he kindly insisted on doing, to the outside of the ample monastery's walls. Much interested with our first experience of the Austrian Benedictines, we looked forward with pleasure to our visit next day to their far-famed monastery of Molk. Leaving Linz by steamer at half-past seven on the morn- ing of the 22nd of August, we reached in four hours our point of disembarkation. Long before our arrival there, the magni- ficent palatial monastery was a conspicuous object, with the soaring towers and cupola of the abbey church, the whole massed on the summit of a lofty cliff very near the right bank of the river. This commanding position was, in the later part of the tenth century, a fortified outpost of the heathen Magyars, from whom it was taken in 984 by Leopold, the first Markgrave of Austria, the founder of the present monastery, who, with his five successors, is buried in the conventual church. Centuries afterwards, it had again to do with Hungarians, who besieged it for three months in 1619. When visited by Dr. Dibdin, it had also recently suffered from war. The French generals lodged in it on their way to Vienna, and during the march through of their troops it was forced to supply them with not less than from fifty to sixty thousand pints of wine per day. In spite of the antiquity of its foundation, the monastic A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries 275 buildings are all modern, having been erected between 1707 and 1736. A walk of about a mile from the landing-place led us (after passing round beneath the walls of the monastery and ascending through the town of Molk) to a gate, passing through which, and traversing a spacious quadrangle, we ascended a stately staircase to the Prelatura, or abbot's lodg- ings. The community were at dinner, but we ventured to send in our letters, and the first to come out and welcome us was the prior, Herr Friedrich Heilmann, a monk who had inhabited the monastery for forty years, but who was as amiable as venerable, and full of pleasantry and humour. He introduced us to the Prelat, Herr Alexander Karl, who then came up conversing with the monks who attended him on either side. Rather short in stature, he wore his gold chain and cross over his habit ; and on his head a hat, apparently of beaver, shaped like an ordinary ' chimneypot,' except that the crown was rather low. He displayed at first a certain stiffness of manner, which made us feel a little ill at ease, and which seemed to bespeak the territorial magnate, no less than the spiritual superior. This uneasy feeling, however, was soon dis- sipated, for nothing could be more cordial and friendly than the whole of his subsequent demeanour to us throughout our visit. As we were too late for the community dinner, the abbot consigned us to the hospitable care of the prior, and sent word to ask the librarian to show us whatever we might wish to see after dinner. Since many of the ninety monks who have their home at Molk were now away, the com- munity had not dined in their great refectory, but in an ordinary, much smaller, apartment. To the latter the genial prior conducted us, and sat beside us, chatting of the good game which stocked their forests their venison, partridges, and pheasants while we, nothing loath (for the river journey 276 A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries and our subsequent walk had given us a hearty appetite), partook of soup, boiled beef, roast lamb, salad, sweets, and coffee, which were successively put before us. The prior had been a keen sportsman, and still loved to speak of the pleasures of earlier days. Invigorated and refreshed, we set out to see the house, and our first visit was to the adjacent refectory. It is a magnificent hall, worthy of a palace, with a richly painted ceiling, and with pictures in the interspaces of the great gilded caryatides which adorn its walls. Passing out at a window of the apsidal termination of the refectory, we came upon an open terrace, whence a most beautiful view of the Danube (looking towards Linz) was to be obtained, with a distant prospect of some of the moun- tains of the Salzkammergut. We here met the venerable librarian, Herr Vincenz Staufer, Bibliotekar des Stiftes Molk, into whose hands the prior now consigned us. After con- templating with delight the charming scene before us, and viewing with interest the parts which had been occupied by Napoleon's troops, we entered the library, which is a hall corresponding in shape and size with the refectory, and, like it, abutting on the terrace balcony by an apsidal termination. It is a stately apartment furnished with costly inlaid woods, and with a profusion of gilding on all sides, including the gilt Corinthian capitals of its mural pilasters. The library is much richer now than it was when visited by Dibdin, and it contains 60,000 volumes. Amongst its treasures are an original chronicle of the abbey begun in the twelfth century, a copy of the first German printed Bible, and a very interesting book about America, executed only two years after its discovery by Columbus. There are also mediaeval copies of Horace and Virgil. Various other apart- ments, besides this stately hall, are devoted to the library, amongst them one containing 4000 volumes of manuscript. The li brarian turned out to be an enthusiastic botanist ; so A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries 277 with his help we made out the names of several Austrian wild plants which had interested us. Having done the honours of his part of the establishment, he reconducted us along several spacious corridors to the prior, whom we found in his nice suite of five rooms, well furnished, ornamented with flowers, and with his pet Australian parrot. He took us to see the royal apartments, which are less magnificent than those of St. Florian, and to the abbey church, which is exceedingly handsome of its rococo kind. It is cruciform, with a high and spacious central dome. The choir is in the chancel, but there is a large organ and organ gallery at the west end. All round the church where a clerestory would be in a Gothic building are glazed windows that look into it from a series of rooms which can be entered from the corridors of the monastery. The church is rich in marbles, and profusely gilt. We were finally conducted to the lodging assigned us, which opened (as did many other rooms) into a very long corridor, close to the top of the staircase we first ascended. On the opposite side of the corridor is the door which gives entrance to the abbot's quarters. This very long corridor is ornamented with a series of oil-paintings representing the whole house of Hapsburg in figures of life size. It begins with fancy portraits of Hapsburgs anterior to the first Imperial Rudolph, and continues with portraits, more or less historical, of all the Emperors of the Holy Roman Empire and with the subsequent Emperors of Austria, including the present Francis Joseph. Ample vacant space remains to similarly depict a large number of his successors. Our room was comfortably furnished with all modern appliances, including a large looking-glass and a spring bed, while our window commanded a fine view of the mountains towards Vienna. After a little more than an hour's rest, the 278 A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries abbot himself came to invite us to go with him to see his garden and join in a slight refection habitually partaken of between dinner and supper a sort of Teutonic 'afternoon tea.' The garden was very pleasantly situated, with a well- shaded walk overlooking the Danube, and with a fine view of the mountains of the Semmering Pass, between Vienna and Gratz. He told us that his lands were only in part cultivated by hired labour, the more distant being let out to tenants at fixed rents. As abbot he had the right of pre- sentation to twenty-seven livings. We then entered a very large summer-house, a long hall lined with frescoes illustrat- ing the four quarters of the world, and representing their beasts, birds, flowers, as well as their human inhabitants. The painting was wonderfully fresh, though it was done 130 years ago. Here was taken the ' afternoon tea,' which con- sisted of most excellent beer, a dish of cold veal, ham, and tongue, cut in thin slices, a salad, cheese, and butter. The abbot sat at a principal table with his guests, including a monk from Kremsmiinster, the aunt and sister of a freshly ordained young monk who was to sing his first mass the following day, the young monk himself, and a secular priest who had come to preach on the occasion, and also the prior and the librarian. At other smaller tables sat other monks, and apparently one or two friends from without; most of them smoked (the prior enjoying his pipe), and parties of four amused themselves with cards, playing for very small stakes or for nothing. The demeanour of all was easy and quite sans gene, but in no way obnoxious to hostile criticism. The rest of the afternoon was devoted to a further examina- tion of the vast building until eight o'clock, when we were summoned to supper. Of this the community would have partaken in the smaller room in which we had dined ; but, in honour of the event of to-rnorrow and of his guests, the amiable abbot had ordered supper to be served in the mag- A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries 279 nificent refectory, which was illuminated with what poor Faraday taught us was the best of all modes of illumination wax candles. We were but a small party in the great hall. On the abbot's right sat the aunt and sister of the young priest the latter with her brother next her. On the abbot's left were the secular priests, ourselves, and the librarian, and one or two more. Our supper consisted of soup, veal, souffle, and roast chicken. For wine we had at first a good but not select wine being from the produce of several vintages mixed, but afterwards came a choice white wine of one vintage. Supper ended, the whole party retired together and separated in the large corridor outside the abbot's lodgings, the ladies being politely conducted to their rooms, which were adjacent to our own. The next day (Sunday) was the festival of the first mass, which was to be sung with full solemnities, though ordinarily there is no high mass on Sundays at all. It was to take place at eight o'clock, but long before that time the church was fairly filled, and the clerestory boxes occupied by visitors, who from that vantage-ground could see well. First came the sermon, to hear which the monks left their choir to occupy benches opposite the pulpit ; they wore no cowls, but white cottas (a Roman shrunken surplice) over their cassocks. The worthy priest who preached had evidently determined not to make a journey for nothing. For a full hour his eloquence suspended the subsequent proceedings. At last came the mass, in which the abbot was but a spectator in his stall. The newly ordained priest occupied his throne, as if abbot for the day. There was an assistant priest, as well as the deacon and subdeacon, and all the choir boys had garlands of flowers round the left arm, with flowers round the candles they carried, as marks of rejoicing at this ' first mass.' The aunt and sister were 280 A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries accommodated with seats for the occasion in the monks' stalls. The high mass was not liturgical ; no introit, offertory, sequence, or communion was sung by the choir, which was in the western organ gallery. The music was florid, and there were female as well as male singers, accompanied by a full band. We had to take a hurried leave of our friendly host, and, promising to pay another visit at the first opportunity in compliance with his very friendly request, we took the train to St. Polten in order to go thence to visit the Benedictine monastery of Gottwic or Gottweih. We had specially looked forward to visiting this house, for, though smaller than any of the three previously visited, it had been most attractively described in Dibdin's tour. 1 The abbot in his time was Herr Altmann, who had, he tells us, 2 ' the complete air of a gentleman who might have turned his fiftieth year, and his countenance bespoke equal intelligence and benevolence.' He received Dr. Dibdin with great courtesy ; and as his biblio- graphical tour is by no means a common book, the following extracts may not be without interest to our readers : ' Pointing out the prospect about the monastery, the abbot said : " On yon opposite heights across the Danube we saw, from these very windows, the fire and smoke of the advanced guard of the French army in contest with the Austrians, upon Bonaparte's first advance towards Vienna. The French Emperor himself took pos- session of this monastery. He slept here, and we entertained him the next day with the best dejeuner ck la fourchette which we could afford. He seemed well satisfied with his reception, but I own that I was glad when he left us. Observe yonder," continued the abbot ; " do you notice an old castle in the distance ? That, tradition reports, once held Richard the First, when he was detained a prisoner by Leopold of Austria." The more the abbot spoke, and the more I continued to gaze around, the more I fancied myself treading on faery 1 See vol. iii. pp. 260-273. 2 P. 263. A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries 281 ground, and that the scene in which I was engaged partook of the illusion of romance. On our way to the library I observed a series of paintings which represented the history of the founder, and I observed the devil or some imp introduced in more than one picture, and remarked upon it to my guide. He said, " Where will you find truth unmixed with fiction?" ' We now entered the saloon for dinner. It was a large, light, and lofty room ; the ceiling was covered with paintings of allegorical subjects in fresco, descriptive of the advantages of piety and learning. We sat down at a high table precisely as in the halls at Oxford to a plentiful and elegant repast. We were cheerful even to loud mirth ; and the smallness of the party, compared with the size of the hall, caused the sounds of our voices to be reverberated from every quarter. ' Behind me stood a grave, sedate, and inflexible-looking attendant. He spoke not ; he moved not, save when he saw my glass emptied, which, without previous notice or permission, he made a scrupulous point of filling, even to the brim, with the most highly flavoured wine I had yet tasted in Germany, and it behoved me to cast an attentive eye upon this replenishing process. In due time the cloth was cleared, and a dessert, consisting chiefly of delicious peaches, succeeded. A new order of bottles was introduced, tall, square, and capacious, which were said to contain wine of the same quality, but of a more delicate flavour. It proved to be most exquisite. The past labours of the day, together with the growing heat, had given a relish to everything which I tasted, and in the full flow of my spirits I proposed " Long- life and happy times to the present members, and increasing prosperity to the monastery of Gottwic." It was received and drunk with enthusiasm. The abbot then proceeded to give me an account of a visit paid him by Lord Minto, when the latter was ambassador at Vienna. " Come, sir." he said, " I propose drinking prosperity and long life to every representative of the British nation at Vienna." I then requested that we might withdraw, as we purposed sleeping within one stage of Vienna that evening. " Your wishes shall be mine," answered the abbot, " but, at any rate, you must not go without a testimony of our respect for the object of your visit a copy of our Chronicon Gottwicense." I received it with every demonstration of respect. 1 ' Our amiable host and his Benedictine brethren determined to 1 This copy was placed by Dr. Dibdin in the library at Althorp. 282 A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries walk a little way down the hill to see us fairly seated and ready to start. I entreated and remonstrated that this might not be, but in vain. On reaching the carriage, we all shook hands, and then saluted by uncovering. Stepping into the carriage, I held aloft the Gottwic Chronicle, exclaiming, "Valete, domini eruditissimi ! dies hie omnino commemoratione dignus" to which the abbot replied, with peculiarly emphatic sonorousness of voice, "Vale ! Deus te omnesque tibi charissimos conservet." They then stopped for a moment, as the horses began to be put in motion, and, retracing their steps up the hill, disappeared. I thought that I discerned the abbot yet lingering above with his right arm raised as the last and most affectionate token of farewell.' We had no sooner arrived at our inn the Kaiserin Elizabet than we, not without much difficulty, engaged a carriage and pair to take us the two-hours' drive thence to Gottweih, along the same road driven over by Dibdin. I passed several sets of pilgrims such as he describes, as also the statue of St. John Nepomuk, which he took for one of St. Francis. At first our path was bordered by poplars, but afterwards, for miles, by damson-trees which were loaded with fruit. At the commencement of the last quarter of our journey we entered a defile in the wooded mountains, a most welcome shelter from a driving wind and blinding dust. The monastery then soon became visible at the top of a lofty elevation, reached by a long winding road, which we, unlike our predecessor, ventured to drive up. No doubt half a century has done something to improve it. As we mounted, we obtained charming glimpses of the Danube, and a good view of an adjacent town. We pulled up within the court- yard of the monastery a little after two o'clock, and found the community engaged in afternoon service, which was largely recited in the vernacular. The church is much smaller than that of the other monasteries we visited, but is more interesting, as, in spite of its stucco ornaments, its substance is ancient, and the romanesque character of its A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries 283 nave and the pointed architecture of its chancel are distinctly traceable. The latter part, which contains the monks' choir, is raised up many steps, on either side of which is a way down into a light and rather lofty crypt, in which is buried the founder of the monastery, Altmann, Bishop of Passau, who died in the year 1091. When the service was concluded, we made our way to the cloister entrance, and having sent in our letters were received by the abbot, Herr Rudolph Gusonhauer, in the well-furnished suite of apartments which constituted the abbatial lodgings. We found him at first much disquieted from a fear that we should make some large demand upon his time, which, he declared, was insufficient for the multitude of calls upon it. When reassured, however, by learning the modest nature of our demands, he was all courtesy, and insisted on showing us himself the library, and some of its most precious contents. He, indeed, invited us to sleep, or at least to dine, but we had lunched before starting, knowing that we could not reach the abbey in time for the community dinner, and we much preferred spending the short time at our disposal in in- specting whatever might be seen to taking a solitary dinner. Dibdin's pleasant experience of Gottweih's hospitality was, therefore, impossible for us. We were, however, shown the pleasing portrait of his kind host, Abbot Altmann, who, we were told, survived till the year 1854, though the last ten years of his life were passed in blindness. The library is said to contain 60,000 volumes, besides 1400 volumes of manuscripts, and no less than 1200 books printed before the year 1500. Amongst the latter was one dating from before the time when type was first used, each page of printing being one large woodcut. Amongst the manuscripts was a small Bible 700 years old, entirely written in the monastery itself on the finest parchment in such small characters as to make ordinary eyes ache to read it, but most beautifully 284 A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries written. One manuscript was of the sixth century, and, of course, we were careful to see the celebrated Chronicon Gottwicense. We also carefully visited the refectory, and noted in the corridor the paintings of legendary events in the founder's life, noted by Dibdin. The apartments prepared for imperial use, and which were used by Napoleon the First, are finer than those of Molk, and are approached by a wonderfully imposing stair- case. From their windows delightful views may be obtained, but, indeed, the monastery is so charmingly situated on a summit amidst such umbrageous mountains that not only northwards on the Danube side, but also southwards, there are delightful prospects and agreeable walks. The monastery is evidently much visited, and hi its basement are rooms which are used as a public restaurant, and had the appear- ance of doing a good business. The community consists but of fifty monks and two novices. It is not nearly so wealthy as the abbeys we had previously visited, but the abbot declared himself fully satis- fied both with its present condition and apparent prospects. After showing us the library we were committed to the care of an attendant, and other visitors arrived, a carriage and pair with two Augustinian canons from a neighbouring house, and other carriages full of laity. On taking our fare- well of the abbot, who was now, indeed, busy with his guests, some of whom were old schoolfellows he had not seen for years, he cordially wished us farewell, exclaiming, ' Truly this is a wonderful day. Heaven has opened and showered down upon us the most unexpected marvels.' We rapidly drove along the, mainly downhill, road to St. Polten, which we quitted next day to return by rail to Linz, and went thence, through Gmunden and Ischl, to Salzburg, there to pay the last of our monastic visits, that to its venerable abbey of St. Peter. A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries 285 St. Peter's, Salzburg, is the origin of the whole of its surroundings. From it have arisen city, archbishopric, and principality, so that it is one of the most venerable estab- lishments in Austria. Unlike those yet visited, it stands in the very heart of a city, in close proximity to the cathedral, of which all the earlier abbots were the bishops. Though far from a picturesque building, it yet contains more fragments of early art than Molk or Kremsmiinster. The outer gate gives admittance to a romanesque cloister, almost entirely paved with ancient tombstones. Adjacent to the cloister are remains of the old chapter-house in the pointed style of architecture. The abbey church, though horribly disfigured, with the best intentions, in 1774, still shows some traces of its early romanesque character. Till the above-mentioned date, it had exceptionally preserved its old decorations, being entirely lined with old frescoes, and having its choir closed in by a wooden rood-screen with its rood. We were conducted over the establishment by the reverend prior, assisted by Father Anselm, who greatly lamented the architectural ravages of the eighteenth century. In that same century St. Peter's Abbey was a not unimportant scientific centre, and its zoological and minera- logical collections are still worth a visit, especially the latter, which is very rich. There are also interesting and instructive models illustrating the topography and geology of the neigh- bourhood, and of the Salzkammergut generally. The treasury of its church is also rich, and its library of fifty thousand volumes contains many precious manuscripts, the chief of which, ' The Book of Life/ goes back to the sixth century, and contains a long list of benefactors with their anniver- saries, for masses. There are also manuscripts of the eleventh and twelfth centuries not less wonderful for their state of complete preservation than for the brilliancy and beauty of their illuminations. 286 A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries It being very near the hour of dinner, we waited in an anteroom to the refectory for its arrival. Therein are hung the portraits of a long line of abbots, including the one who welcomed to the abbey my predecessor Dr. Dibdin. 1 In the refectory itself we met the abbot, a bright, rather small and youngish man, who cordially shook hands and invited us to take our place beside him at the high table. The company consisted, this being vacation time, only of the abbot, twelve monks, five novices, three guests, and some lay brothers. The guest beside us was Dr. von Schafliaentl, professor of geology at Munich, who was the only German present who could speak any English. The repast was of the usual plain character, but the wine fully merited the reputation it has acquired. It had been made at Stein (near Vienna), where the community possesses a vineyard. Before taking our leave we visited the abbot in his lodgings, which are remarkably elegant, and consist of seven richly furnished apartments with an oratory. He seemed to take an amiable pleasure in showing us everything of interest, and cordially invited us to renew our visit. St. Peter's Abbey is rich, but only contains about fifty monks when all are at home. Not many are required for external work, as not more than half a dozen parishes belong to the abbey. With St. Peter's terminated our long-desired visit to these curious instances of ecclesiastical survival, the still established and endowed monasteries of Austria, which we found to be just what we had anticipated to find them. That these were no abodes of stern austerity we knew, but we hardly expected to find such diminished observance as regards public worship. The men with whom we conversed had much learning, and some were de- voted to one or other of the natural sciences. We found also that they were well up in the politics of the day. Nevertheless we were surprised to find that none of the five 1 See vol. iii. p. 197. A Visit to some Austrian Monasteries 287 abbots we visited were any more able to converse in either French or English than were those visited by Dibdin sixty- seven years before. It should be recollected, however, that the principals are selected largely with a view to wise ad- ministration of the abbey lands, and not for learning. All the five, in spite of the more or less sumptuousness of their lodgings, partook of the plain monastic fare, and we remarked the earnest gravity with which each superior took his part in whatever of devotion we witnessed. The existing com- munities are not responsible for relaxations of monastic discipline which already existed before the present monks joined them. Nor would it be fair to expect that men who had attached themselves to a body, enjoying a certain degree of comfort and freedom, should readily acquiesce in the in- stitution or reintroduction of severities for which they never bargained. Though we met with a certain breadth of view and tolerant spirit in those we ventured to converse with on subjects affording opportunity for the display of such qualities, yet it would not be just to conceal that we met with no tendency to what would be called unorthodoxy by the strictest theologians. At Kremsmiinster, at Molk, and at St. Peter's we took occasion to turn the conversation upon Dr. Dollinger, and in each case we found that with expressions of the warmest personal esteem there was manifested the most unqualified condemnation of the line he had taken. Whatever may be thought, however, of these institutions, whether they may be admired or their continuance in their present state deprecated, they are full of interest for us in England, as it is more than probable that such as they are our own abbeys would have become, had events in the six- teenth and succeeding centuries turned out otherwise hi England than they did turn out, so that abbots of St. Albans and St. Edmunds might still be sitting in our House of Lords beside our Archbishops of Canterbury and York. THE GREYFRIARS. FOR a good many years a gradually increasing interest has been felt in the older religious Orders. This has been partly due to the study of art and especially architecture ; partly to the numerous valuable publications (such as the Rolls Series and various monastic chronicles) which have, of late, from time to time appeared, and partly to positive changes in religious belief, and the ever wider diffusion of High Church sentiments. Englishmen now fifty years old had little opportunity in their childhood of seeing a monk or a friar. In 1846 the only religious house of men thoroughly established in England was St. Bernard's Abbey, near Lough- borough. 1 Forty-three years have made great changes in this respect, and so widespread has become the interest felt in such communities, that we think a few particulars respecting the most popular and widespread of the mediaeval religious Orders that of the Franciscans or Greyfriars may not be unwel- come to our readers. This religious Order initiated a great innovation. Up to about A.D. 1210, the regular 2 clergy had been 'monks' almost all Benedictines, Cistercians, or Carthusians. 3 The 1 Then recently erected (Augustus Welby Pugin being architect) for a community of Cistercian monks who still dwell there now uuder the rule of their third abbot. 2 The clergy were divided into 'seculars' and 'regulars.' The secular clergy comprised the bishops, cathedral chapters, parish priests, curates, and all clerics subject only to their bishop. 3 Each monastery of Carthusians in England was called a ' Charterhouse,' and in Italy a ' Certosa. ' Such was the well-known ' Charterhouse ' in the City. A new Charterhouse inhabited by French Carthusians has lately been built at Parkminster, near West Grinstead, in Sussex. The Greyfriars 289 Franciscans assumed the simple name of ' Brothers ' ' Frati ' and became known as ' Friars/ an appellation also given to the Dominicans, Carmelites, and Augustinians. The Dominicans were generally known as Blackfriars, 1 because they wear in church a black cloak and hood over their white habit. The Carmelites were called Whitefriars, because they wear a white cloak and hood over their brown habit. The Franciscans were known as the Greyfriars, because such was the colour of their habit. They use no cloak in church, and they were, and are, further distinguished by being girt with a knotted cord. 2 Their founder, as almost every one knows, was St. Francis of Assisium a saint who has exercised a wider influence and inspired a deeper devotion than has any other Christian since the days of the Apostles. His influence was not exer- cised in Court rivalries or political struggles. It was a gentle, personal influence elevating the aspirations of individual hearts and aiding each to repress his baser and more selfish tendencies. A loving admiration for St. Francis has extended far beyond even the limits of the Roman communion. The present writer's personal experience convinces him of this; but it needs no more than a reference to the writings of Mrs. Oliphant, Mr. Stevens, Rev. J. M. Wilson, Dr. Jessopp, etc., to prove it. The fact ought not to cause wonder. No other saint has shown so conspicuously and indisputably a heart overflowing with charity with the most intense love of God and tenderness to his fellow-creatures, including even the brute creation. 1 The Augustinians (who wear a black habit) were sometimes called ' Blackfriars,' though they seem to have been more generally known as Austin- friars. The districts in London known as 'Blackfiiars,' ' Whitefriars,' an ' Austinfriars ' respectively, indicate the situations wherein the friaries of these three Orders formerly existed. 2 On which account they were known in France as Cordeliers. VOL. I. T 290 The Grey friars The true Franciscan spirit is emphatically the spirit of charity; and charity is also the characteristic of the most advanced phase of our present civilisation. The difficult problem, how to benefit our poor materially, without simul- taneously injuring them in other ways, is the anxious and arduous study of the choice spirits of our day. It is only in recent years that the claims of the lower animals on our con- sideration have also been energetically, even passionately, urged; and surely the society for animal protection might well take St. Francis for its patron. But though charity, rather than learning, is the leading Franciscan characteristic, the Order may claim a high place as regards intellect, especially its English Province. No less than sixty-seven friars were professors at Oxford, 1 and seventy- three at Cambridge. Those brilliant and laborious thinkers known as ' the Schoolmen,' 2 are now beginning to meet with due appreciation after three and a half centuries of neglect. Of the whole group, one mind was admittedly the most acute, the Franciscan Scotus, known as Doctor subtilissimus? the fearless critic of St. Thomas Aquinas. But the Franciscan most interesting to the lovers of the critical and experimental sciences of our own day is certainly Friar Roger Bacon. His love for physical science is widely known, but the breadth of 1 The first at Oxford was Adam of the Marsh, especially beloved of the illustrious Bishop Grostete, who was so attached to the Franciscans. His letters (published in the Rolls Monumenta Franciscana, edited by Dr Brewer) give us a vivid picture of the England of his day. Repeated applications for English friars were made from abroad, and they were sent to act as professors at Lyons, Paris, and Cologne. 2 He who has been termed the father of the schoolmen, Alexander of Hales, was an English Franciscan, as also was Occam of the renowned logical ' Razor. ' 3 The founder of the philosophical school known as the Scotists. He is believed to have been born in Northumberland in 1274, and he died at Cologne (the university of which he started) in 1308. He lies buried there in the old Franciscan Church, which is once more in the hands of his order. The chief part of his manuscripts, after being paraded about Oxford, were burnt there as ' Popish rags,' in 1550. The Grey friars 291 his views concerning Holy Scripture is much less so. Aided by him, Robert Elsmere would have had little to fear from his neighbour the Squire, who would have been met by prin- ciples capable of discounting beforehand his whole contention. But in addition to the moral and intellectual claims of the Greyfriars on our sympathy, they possess a special interest on purely historical grounds. Dr. Jessopp has written admirably on 'The Coming of the Friars.' We would invite him to employ his facile and attractive pen in picturing for us ' The Going of the Friars.' And a sadly pathetic picture he might thus draw. The English Franciscans were widely beloved. Their general poverty shielded them from much of the envy and hostility felt against richer Orders, and the immediate cause of the destruction of the most venerated section of them, the Observants, was grateful fidelity to an ill-used woman and a fallen cause. But many of our readers may be inclined to ask, ' Who are the Observants ? ' Before, then, saying more as to our English Greyfriars, it may be weh 1 to give a brief sketch of the evolution of the Order. St. Francis, who was born A.D. 1182, obtained from Pope Innocent in. a verbal approbation of his rule and Order in 1210. In 1223 this was confirmed by Honorius in. The saint died in 1226, on October 4th, which day is celebrated as his feast throughout the Catholic Church. Besides his friars and nuns, he also instituted what was at first called the ' Order of Penance,' but which is now known as ' the Third Order.' This includes men and women, married and single, who live in the world without any external sign of their inner spiritual allegiance, save a certain sobriety of dress and demeanour. So rapid was the growth of the whole Order that at its first chapter, held by St. Francis only ten years after its foundation, no less than 5000 friars attended. Forty years later they had 1400 houses, and in 1680 in spite of losses in 292 The Grey friars Protestant countries they had augmented to upwards of 100,000 members. St. Louis of France and St. Elizabeth of Hungary joined the Third Order in its earliest days, and in the present age it probably includes a greater number of souls than it did in the preceding century. Kings, nobles, philosophers, merchants, small tradesmen, artisans, and beggars are to be found amongst its ranks in continental Europe, and in our own country it is worthily represented in both Houses of Parliament, on the bench, amongst our barristers, surgeons, and physicians, and our officers of both navy and army. The rule of life adopted by the first disciples of St. Francis was extremely austere, but by degrees, here and there, relaxa- tions were introduced which called forth many local attempts at a return to primitive strictness of life. The great convent of Assisi itself became relaxed, but that of St. Mary-of-the-Angels (which had ever been considered the headquarters of the Order) maintained the stricter rule. The great writer St. Bonaventure (known as the Seraphic Doctor), and the celebrated St. Anthony of Padua (whose magnificent shrine remains intact in that city) were conspicu- ous supporters of reform. In the year 1415 a final split took place, one section of the whole Order adopting the mitigations which had been intro- duced, especially in the matter of poverty. The members of this section became known as Conventuals. They practically reverted to the life of monks, and were the owners of many magnificent monasteries and churches. The members of the other section became known as Observants. They adhered to the primitive Franciscan customs, and have generally main- tained to this day the austerity of their rule. The division of the Franciscans into these two sections was first officially sanctioned by Pope Martin v. in 1430, and The Grey friars 293 subsequently by Leo x., 1 who imposed upon the whole of the Observants the general denomination of 'Friars Minor of the Regular Observance.' 2 In 1525 a reform was started which developed into a third, altogether distinct, section of the Order. Its members became known as Capuchins, 3 and are distinguished exter- nally by wearing a beard and a long pointed hood. 4 They had no place in England at the time of the Reformation. The Franciscans came to England in 1224, and soon 1 By his bull 'Ad Statum,' in 1430, Martin v. granted to the Conventuals the dispensations they required, and the general of the whole Order always belonged to the Conventual section till 1517. In that year Leo x. issued his bull ' Ite et vos in Vineam meam,' and decreed that a general was to be chosen from amongst the Observants to be the ' Minister-General,' but that the Con- ventuals were to have a separate head called ' Master-General,' who was to be confirmed in his office by the ' Minister-General.' 2 Three different groups have formed themselves successively amongst the Observants in response to various local outbursts of zeal. Thus, early in the sixteenth century a reform was started in Italy, the followers of which were known as the Reformati. Thence they extended into France and Poland. About the middle of the same century another reform was developed in Spain by St. Peter of Alcautara, and its members became known as Alcantarines. From the earliest days of the Franciscan Order, certain houses were set apart for retirement, and were known as 'houses of recollection.' From this cir- cumstance the followers of a reform which took place towards the end of the sixteenth century got the name of Recollects. At the time of the English Reformation the Observants had not become thus differentiated. 3 In 1536 Pope Paul m. approved of this reform, and empowered the Capuchins to elect a Vicar-General under the proviso that he was to be con- firmed by the Magister- General of the Conventuals, who, in his turn, had to be confirmed by the Minister-General. This proviso was abrogated in 1619, since which time the Capuchins have been allowed a General of their own choosing, without any need of confirmation by either the Master or the Minister-General. 4 There was for a long time much disputation as to what had been the form of the hood worn by St. Francis himself. Authority at Rome deemed this dispute so idle and objectionable that it was formally forbidden by Alexander vn. in 1658. At the present day any publication which should be issued ' de vera forma caputii S. Franc.isci ' would find itself on the index from the mere fact of its publication. This is a plain demonstration that the placing of a book on the index need not mean that its contents are judged to be doctrinally mistaken or morally objectionable. It may merely signify that it is deemed inopportune or trivial, so that time should not be uselessly squandered in its perusal. 294 The Grey friars attained great popularity, spreading far and wide over the land. Their advent was, of course, long anterior to the split between the Conventuals and Observants, so that they cannot be reckoned as having belonged to either, although the magnificent churches they here and there possessed would indicate that the affinity of such monasteries was with the Conventuals. The Observants were distinctly introduced later, as we shall shortly see. Long before their advent, the old-established English Franciscans had a very stately church at York. More interesting, however, was their magnificent friary in London, founded in 1300 by Edward i. ; on the site of what is now the Bluecoat School. It had a noble church 300 feet long, and its ample library was the gift (in 1429) of Richard Whittington, Lord Mayor. The Observants were not introduced into England, as far as is certainly known, 1 before the reign of Henry vii., who built two or three houses for them, and greatly favoured them, as also did Henry vm. till his matrimonial difficulties began. Then there appeared to have been seven 2 such friaries, amongst which were houses at Canterbury, Southamp- ton, Newcastle, Richmond (in Surrey), and Greenwich. It is concerning the last that we have the most interesting details. Henry vm. was a great friend to the Greenwich friary, which adjoined the palace. In 1513 he wrote himself to Leo. x. in favour of its friars, declaring his deep and devoted affection for them. They present, he says, 'an ideal of Christian poverty, sincerity, and charity; their lives are devoted to fasting, watching, and prayer, and they are occupied in hard toil by night and day, to win sinners back to God. 3 They, 1 Tanner says he could find no account of their being here previously. - According to F. Franciscus and St. Clara (whose family name was Davenport) in his Historia Minor F. F. Minorum Provincial Anglice ; Douay, 1665. 3 For authorities, see Gasquet's Henry VIII. and the English Monasteries, vol. i. p. 156. The Grey friars 295 however, felt bound in conscience to oppose the king's will both as to his divorce and his headship of the Church in England. The first public sign of royal displeasure was a letter written by the King in 1532 to the General of the Order, asking that the English Provincial, Blessed John Forest, 1 might be removed from his office. Friars Forest, Peto, and Elstow were the most prominent opponents among the Green- wich Friars of the king's designs. It was Peto who first openly resisted, and who, preaching before Henry at Green- i wich, threatened him with those words from the Book of Kings, ' Even where the dogs licked the blood of Naboth, even there shall the dogs lick thy blood also, O King.' 2 It is to Henry's credit that, for this, he did him no immediate violence; but a few days afterwards Peto and Elstow were brought before the Council, where the Earl of Essex told them that they deserved to be put into a sack and thrown into the Thames. To which threat Elstow replied with a smile, ' Threaten these things to rich and dainty folk who are clothed in purple, fare delicately, and have their chiefest hope in this world, for we esteem them not, but are joyful that for the discharge of our duties we are driven hence. With thanks to God we know the way to Heaven to be as ready by water as by land, and, therefore, we care not which way we go.' The king greatly desired to obtain from the Observants an abjuration of the Papal Supremacy ; but after his agents had again and again sought, in various modes, to effect this, they were obliged to report 'Sorry we be we cannot bring them to no better frame and order, as our faithful mind was to do for the accomplishment of the king's pleasure.' A few days afterwards two carts full of friars were seen passing through the city to the Tower. These were the expelled 1 One of the English Martyrs recently beatified by Leo. xm. - As to the sequel, see Gasquet, op. cit. p. 161, note. 296 The Greyfriars Observants, four of whose houses had been emptied for this cause. About two hundred of them were cast into prison without trial. Fifty died from the hardships they had to endure ; while some obtained through friends, leave to pass out of the realm. Two-and-thirty, chained in pairs, were sent to various prisons in England, where they died. Antony Brookby, 'a man well skilled in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew,' was not allowed to lie down or wash for five-and- twenty days, and would have died, as did Friar Belchiam, of starvation but for friends who supplied him with food till he was strangled during the night of July 19th, 1537. 1 Blessed John Forest died, like More and Fisher, for the Papal Supremacy; but, unlike them, was burnt alive at Smithfield on May 22nd, 1538, Bishop Latimer preaching at his martyrdom. The wood used to burn him consisted in part of an image of a warrior saint called Darvel Gadarn, which had been highly venerated in North Wales. The English Observants were greatly diminished in num- bers and scattered, but by no means crushed. Queen Mary had hardly ascended the throne when they returned. The queen refounded their house at Greenwich, where Friar Elstow became Superior. In 1554 Cardinal Pole was con- secrated Archbishop of Canterbury in their church. The queen also restored the friaries of London and Southampton. The year after the accession of Queen Elizabeth they were all again expelled, though the queen had been herself baptized in the church of the Observants at Greenwich. Thus the first English Province came to an end after an existence of 330 years ; but its official seal was preserved and handed down, as we shall shortly see. One friar appears to have been permitted to live peace- fully in England long after the expulsion of all his brethren. This was Brother John, commonly known as the ' old beggar,' 1 See Gasquet, op. cit. The Grey friars 297 whose high repute for virtue induced the Earl of Derby to obtain letters of protection for him from Queen Elizabeth, by which he was authorised to wear his grey habit in public when the Penal Laws were in fuU force. He died in 1590, and was buried in Layland Churchyard. 1 He was the last to wear publicly the Franciscan habit in England until our own day unless perhaps during the short reign of James n. The surviving friars were dispersed on the Continent and in Ireland, and Englishmen from time to time entered the I Order abroad. A surviving English friar, in 1614, gave the habit to one John Jennings, who persuaded several students of the English College at Douai to join him, and after open- ing a small house at Gravelines, established the Friary of St. Bonaventure at Douai. Afterwards, having had handed over to him the official seal of the extinct first Province, a suc- ceeding, second, Province was regularly organised in 1625, under his rule. By favour of Queen Henrietta Maria and King James II., this second Province maintained a chequered life, its members occasionally having to undergo imprison- ment, and some being put to death, as were Thomas Bullaker, Francis Bell, John Woodcock, John Wall, and Charles Mahony. In 1729 Friar Paul Atkinson died in prison, after thirty years' confinement, and he appears to have been the last who so suffered. The members of the Province served different missions, and opened various schools, 2 but it was impossible for them to live anywhere and keep their rule as a regularly organised community, and the destruction of their friary at Douai at the French Revolution was a fatal blow. An attempt was made in 1818 to establish a Novitiate at Aston Hall by favour of Cardinal Weld, but in 1823 it was 1 See Lives of the Saints and Blessed of the Three Orders of St. France. Published by the Franciscan Convent, Taunton. Vol. iv. p. 362. 2 One of these was at Edgbaston. 298 The Greyfriars given up. The old friars gradually died off, and in 1839 the second English Province came to an end, after a struggling life of 214 years. The last member was Father Patrick O'Farrel, who lived for thirty years acting as a missionary priest at Bristol, having in his care the official documents and effects of the Province. Soon after the establishment of the present Catholic Hierarchy, in 1851, a great desire was felt to have Observant friars once more in England. Accordingly some were intro- duced from Belgium, in 1858 ; and Father O'Farrel and three other friars who still survived, made over to them the seals of the two old Provinces, together with all the official docu- ments saved from Douai. Their number was soon aug- mented in this country, and friaries were successively opened at Manchester, Glasgow, Stratford, and Upton ; but the Pro- vince was not reconstituted, and no separate house in Great Britain yet existed to serve as a Novitiate. The future there- fore still remained uncertain. The year 1887, however, saw the formal reconstitution of the Order here, and the regular organisation of a third English Province, with Father David Fleming as Provincial; and 1890 has seen the beginning of the last step needful to ensure growth and perpetua- tion of the Order in England the beginning of its new Novitiate. As we have already remarked, the great historical house of the old English Observants was at Greenwich. Their houses at Canterbury and in Surrey were also within what is now the Roman Catholic diocese of Southwark. Into that region the Observants are now once more entering. At Blackheath (not near Greenwich but near Guildford) they are endeavouring once more, with the greatest care, to reunite the threads of tradition severed 330 years ago. There they are building their Novitiate (with a church dedicated to the Holy Spirit) in the style in vogue at the time of Queen Mary's death the latest The Grey friars 299 ' Perpendicular.' l There, at Greyfriars, Chilworth, conventual Mass and office will be daily sung (the friars rising for matins a little after midnight), and there the martyr of their old Greenwich house, Blessed John Forest, will be publicly honoured on each recurring 22nd of May. To men who are true lovers of freedom, though they be neither Catholics, nor even Christians, such manifestations of the religious liberty which it is the happy privilege of Englishmen to enjoy cannot but be gratifying. In France and amongst Continental so-called Liberals, religious ' liberty ' means liberty to insult and outrage religion, but rigorous bonds and restrictions for those who would promote it. In the English-speaking world, which Providence seems to have destined for predominant diffusion, it is indeed, most happily, otherwise. We ah 1 recognise that no man has religious free- dom who is not free to obey inoffensive precepts and to pro- mote by peaceful persuasion and example the cause he has at heart. The freedom of the religious Orders to live and grow is the surest sign of the presence of such religious free- dom, and certainly no Order may better claim this freedom than that of the sons of St. Francis, the disciples at once of Scotus and of Roger Bacon. We must conclude this notice of a process of evolution begun 680 years ago, by expressing our conviction that religion, science, both physical and philosophic, the first principles of philanthropy and due consideration for even the irrational world of life, may all find their purest and noblest expression through the spirit and teaching of that most attractive saint who could say with emphatic and literal truth those remarkable words of St. Paul, 2 ' Eyo autem stigmata Domini Jesu in corpore meo porto.' 1 The English Observants could have erected no building save in the Perpendicular style, as at their coming the middle pointed Gothic had already passed out of fashion. 2 Gal. vi. 17. NATIONAL EDUCATION. TTTE are all at one in desiring a good education for our poor children. However we may differ as to the details of instruction, we are all at one in desiring that enough know- ledge may be imparted, and the intellect sufficiently trained, to call forth into exercise as many latent capacities as pos- sible, for the advantage of their possessors and the general gain of the entire community. If we are not all equally zealous, yet plenty of zeal for the cause of education exists, and needs but to be wisely directed to ensure satisfactory results. Even as to the direction it should take, there is again a general agreement. We all desire that while the intellectual powers should be developed, the sterling moral qualities of our countrymen should at the same time be maintained and intensified, and that, if possible, the teaching of ah 1 our schools should be sufficiently uniform to deserve to be called 'National Education.' Now the improvement in our poor-school teaching has hitherto mainly, if not exclusively, consisted of an increase in the efficiency of instruction, and in the number of subjects taught. A like improvement is also desired and looked forward to for the future. It is this matter of ' instruction ' which forms, and must form, the most obvious part of every system of education. This it is which strikes the senses, and is therefore apt so to occupy the attention as to lead many persons to forget that 'instruction' is not 'education,' but only its indispensable preliminary and agent. This is not surprising, for nothing is more common than National Education 30 1 for men to become so absorbed in any ' means ' which greatly interests them, as by degrees to make of it an 'end.' One man sets out with a reasonable desire for money as a needful agent, and ends as a miser caring only for money itself. Another forces himself into some daily drudgery in order to live, and ends by living only to carry on his daily drudgery. Not a few persons have, I think, undergone an analogous change as regards their interest in efficient and multiplied instruction. The need for the wide diffusion of a good education, and of good instruction necessary thereto, is painfully evident even now. But the educational destitution of a quarter of a century ago was appalling. Since then we have every reason to be grateful for very much good and zealous work. What wonder if, in the doing of it, a number of excellent persons have, little by little, become quite passionately attached to the cause of instruction at which they have so long and zealously laboured. They may well be apt to look with impatience and some distrust on any one who would bid them pause in their work and consider whether they may not have, inadvertently, done some injury to the cause they had originally at heart. Yet there is not a little to be said in favour of the assertion that, by the mode of instruction which has become a fashion of the day, the sources of our national life and prosperity run the risk of being calamitously deteriorated. In order to test the truth of this very grave affirmation, it may be well to try and draw out clearly and distinctly what it is Englishmen generally, and all practical Englishmen, really have in view when they advocate National Education. In the first place, they mean to advocate the acquisition by children of a certain amount of more or less elementary knowledge; but secondly, and far more, they mean the acquisition of such a disposition of mind as may make them useful members of society honest, temperate, and industrious 3O2 National Education citizens, with kind hearts for their neighbours and a sincere and intelligent love for the land of their birth. Every one who has the welfare of his country at heart must now desire the improvement of knowledge, but he cannot but much more desire the wide diffusion of noble aims and generous sentiments, and the depression of the more selfish and brutal instincts of our animal nature. To bring this most desirable end about, it is plainly necessary that considerable instruction should be given, the intellect being strengthened by judicious exercise, and the memory stored with a knowledge of many facts. It is, how- ever, no less plainly necessary that such intellectual cultiva- tion will be useless, or worse than useless, unless at the same time the affections are stimulated, and the will directed in harmony with the great end in view, so that good actions may be the result. Clever and well-informed men are as plentiful as blackberries ; the rich and rare phenomenon is the really good man. As a fact, most men are moved to action by a variety of motives, such as : 1, the gratification of their personal instincts and passions ; 2, the hope of reward ; 3, the fear of punish- ment ; 4, the desire of what seems to be their own greatest good; 5, love for their friends and sympathy with their fellow-men; 6, a certain love of truth; 7, a spontaneous admiration for what strikes them as beautiful ; 8, an irresistible recognition of noble and generous conduct as being such ; 9, a perception of duty ; and 10, an unavoidable knowledge that certain acts are virtuous even though the performance of them may, owing to existing conditions, be extremely repugnant. The varying effect of these motives on the will cannot but be powerfully affected by a full, continued, painstaking, hearty, and definite inculcation of elevated conceptions calculated to ennoble the character, to weaken the action of motives which are low and selfish, and to strengthen those of an opposite nature. National Education 303 That such conceptions are alone to be found hi relation to a Divine ideal, and that it is only by distinct and avowedly definite religious teaching that such conceptions can be brought home to the minds of our children, is what few practical men will venture to deny. By it the highest and most salutary aspirations are aroused and strengthened. Such a conception of God as is set before us in the highest religious teaching, supplies at once a realisation of our noblest ideal, and an object about which the most elevated emotions of love, reverence, and admiration for aU that is most beautiful and good may be fitly exercised. It also enlarges and strengthens our natural sympathy with our fellows, while the rational desire which each one has, and should have, for his own greatest good, is justified as coincident with the law of ' right.' That same law, thus regarded, also tends to augment our instinctive hopes and fears as to retribution, and the final and necessary connection of ' suffering ' with ' ill-will.' Finally, hi this way only can our besetting tendency to self-gratifi- cation at the expense of right, be effectually opposed by a consensus of motives of the most powerful kind. Religion brings down to the popular apprehension, and embodies, for the benefit of the ignorant, the highest results of philosophy. Those, therefore, who would exclude it from our schools, would deprive the masses of such share as is open to them of education of the highest order. A parallel folly would be to insist on each man working out for himself his own astronomy. As religion, however, has infinitely more to do with practical life than astronomy has, it is plain that to exclude the former, is an infinitely more momentous matter. It is simply undeniable that persons who are without the aid of theological teaching and belief are, however naturally good may be their instincts, at a very great disadvantage. The greatest of all ideals has disappeared from their horizon, only inferior and secondary objects can affect their emotions 304 National Education or their will, and they can have no absolute certainty that what is right or true must always, under all circumstances, be for their greatest happiness or for the happiness of those they love and cherish. The utility and the necessary tendency of sueh belief can be tested by each man, simply by looking into his own conscience. However unhappily inoperative his Christian belief may have been on his actions, he none the less must recognise that such belief has ever tended, to make him act well. He never sinned or acted fraudulently or unchastely because he believed in God, in Christ's redemption, or in a life hereafter, and he has never abstained from a bad action because of his disbelief in such doctrines. What man, on the other hand, can honestly say that the mathematical, chemical, geological, or botanical knowledge he may have attained, or that any skill in part-singing and drawing he may have acquired, have helped him to perform an act of self-denial, or even directly tended to check an unlawful glance at his neighbour's wife ? Place two men, in all things equal, save that one accepts and the other rejects Christian belief, hi circumstances of great tempta- tion, and it is as certain as any mathematical truth that the first will have and the second will lack, a very important aid towards overcoming it. Men of the latter category must be less likely to be good citizens, because they are less supplied with motives to do their duty towards their fellow-men. I have spoken above of 'avowedly definite religious teaching,' and I did so advisedly, for in the words ' avowedly definite' are included all our difficulties. The advantages of such religious teaching are so obvious, and its opponents on principle form so altogether insignificant a fraction of the nation, that a uniform system of National Education upon such a basis would be received with all but universal National Education 305 satisfaction save for our unfortunate religious differences. State action to aid our schools was begun by Lord John Russell on an avowedly denominational basis, and it was only because such action seemed insufficient that the school legislation of 1870 took place. Even then, such legislation was declared to be effected in no spirit of antagonism to voluntary and denominational schools, but merely with the object, as avowed, of supplementing their action. But for our various differences of creed, no 'conscience clause ' would have been thought of, and still less would so many persons have come to look with comparative favour either on a supposed system of -indefinite religious teaching, or upon a system of secular instruction from which religious teaching should be eliminated, under the impression that such systems were ' Unsectarian.' Such teaching none but a very small minority amongst us would declare to be the absolutely best teaching, but only the 'second best/ the practically best attainable by us under existing circum- stances. It is strange, but it is none the less true, that many persons seem to suppose that there may be beliefs and opinions which are not definite beliefs and opinions. Such persons clearly see the absurdity of believing in the real existence of abstractions, such as ' humanity ' (holding that in reality there are but individual men and women), and yet believe that these men and women may have religious opinions, which, because they are not affirmative in a Chris- tian sense, are ' indefinite ' They seem also to hold that teaching which is not the religious teaching of any recog- nised body of men is not the teaching of any body of men at all. Yet every man, as certainly as he has eyes of a definite colour and a chin of a definite form, must have definite opinions on the subjects which occupy his thoughts, even though it be the sceptical one that certainty has not or VOL. i. u 306 National Education cannot be attained about them. Thus every man must believe that the existence of God is or is not a thing about which there is certainty for him, and every man must hold that he has or that he has not grounds sufficient for acting in this life with a view to another which is to follow it. One of these two beliefs is just as definite and dogmatic as the other, and both are fruitful in effects. To bring up children and youths without giving them avowedly definite religious instruction, is, in fact, to bring them up in a definite religious instruction which is unavowed. It is to bring them up with the definite teaching that Christian doctrines are either unimportant, or else matters about which there can be no real knowledge unless it be the knowledge that they are untrue. These views are just as definite, just as 'sectarian' as any others, and those who hold them sym- pathise with one another, and co-operate more actively than do the members of some recognised religious communions. They do, in fact, form a religious body of a definite kind with definite views and aims, for all that such body may not possess an external visible organisation like that of the Church. Everything which comes within the experience of a child helps, intentionally or not, to educate it. Not only forms of words, but the tone and manner of their utterance, produce their consequences on its plastic mind. The same is to be said of any elaborate, studied silence. To bring up children in silence as to a future life, is practically equiva- lent to teaching them that there is none. Those who clamour for purely secular education, clamour in effect for the education of all in the tenets of one, in every way inconsiderable, body the secularist sect. They have the effrontery to seek the practical diffusion of unbelief at the expense of believers. Unlike the various religious bodies, willing to put their hands freely into their pockets National Education 307 to educate their children, secularists would put their hands freely into other people's pockets not only for the education according to their views of their own small progeny, but for an identical education of the numerous progeny of their opponents also. Rarely has such a remarkable imposture obtained cur- rency through the use of an ambiguous, misleading word, such as the word ' unsectarian.' That at least a very large portion of the English people would reprobate such a system if it were so unmasked that they could plainly see it is \ shown by the number of denominational schools which are maintained by voluntary efforts, and by the wide-spread practice of having a certain amount of religious manifesta- tion even in Board schools, upon which so many electors have insisted. But can members of the English Church, or of other denominations who do not wish all Christian belief to be undermined or withered by chilling silence and enforced neglect, rest satisfied with such Board school teaching, a teaching from which, as the late Archbishop of York pointed out, even the Ten Commandments, as forming part of the Prayer Book, might be, as a formulary, legally excluded ? Such Board school religious teaching may represent fairly well the belief and views of a certain number of Englishmen; but it is monstrously unfair that their beliefs and views should thus be practically established and en- doAved at the expense of the entire community. Unsatis- factory, however, as is the present state of affairs, it is, according to the warning voice we have heard at Birming- ham, only the prelude to still worse. That voice not only threatened us with a further move towards the State en- dowment of secularism, but did not recoil from avowing a desire to follow in the wake of the French Jacobins. And yet it is these foreign Jacobins who are giving us what to 308 National Education most moderate men is the very reductio ad abmrdum of the system of 'levelling down.' In France, in spite of its comparatively few religious divisions, the levelling-down system has been carried so far that, as M. Jules Simon tells us, 1 in one school an inscription on the wall, 'Love God, honour your parents,' has been erased as too denominational ! This excessive tenderness for the conscience of the occasional or possible young Atheist, is accompanied by the most cynical and brutal disregard for the consciences of believers. And these are the men whom our ' advanced ' politicians would emulate. We, on the other hand, desire only even-handed justice. By all means let the conscien- tious scruples of Agnostics, Positivists, and every kind of Nonconformist, be sincerely respected ; but in God's name let the scruples of men who desire a distinct, definite, hearty and constant inculcation of Christian doctrines be respected also ! Practically, though not legally, many a poor father and mother are oppressed in conscience by having to send their children, against their will, to Board schools, and many more by having to contribute through the rates to a system which they regard as fatal in its tendency to all Christian belief. Why are the consciences of such persons less to be respected than the consciences of those who object to pay a Church rate? What has been the origin of this distrust of denomina- tional teaching ? The conscience clause originated with the Wesleyans. They had a just cause of complaint in the practical impossibility they experienced in various country places of obtaining education without attendance at Church and at Sunday schools. But they never meant by it to object to such religious teaching as took place on week- days in Church schools. Certainly now the Wesleyans are 1 Dieu, Patrie, et Liberte. National Education 309 aggrieved and suffer from the development the School Board system has taken and is likely to take. They would not, then, be opposed to an amelioration of the existing system in the direction of more justice to voluntary schools. Other Nonconformist bodies who have, with more or less reason, been jealous of their rights with regard to the Established Church would welcome a modification which, while recog- nising and respecting their claims, should check the further propagation at the national expense of the views of the secularist minority. ^ We would ask the zealots and devotees of ' unsectarian education ' what possible harm they can anticipate from an avowedly full and distinct religious education, so arranged that each body receives its due, and that the consciences of all believers, as well as of all unbelievers, be efficiently protected ? What harm can be done by reinforcing morality by religious sanctions ? We have long looked, and looked in vain, for any answer to these questions. If they cannot be answered, then what must be desirable for this country is the gradual modification of an insincere and delusive system of ' levelling down' in favour of an honest and avowed system of 'levelling up.' As far as may be found practicable, the desire of every intelligent statesman should be that religious teaching should become as full, hearty, definite, and efficient as possible. Each party also should have its due. Let ardent secularists, sincere agnostics, benevolent positivists, and the men whose views are truly represented by the religious system generally taught in Board schools, have, one and all, a fair field for their philanthropic activity, and meet with their full share of State co-operation and support ; but let a precisely similar share of co-operation and support be also accorded to our Baptists, Methodists, Jews, Quakers, Koman Catholics, Wes- leyans, and Anglicans. The Board school system, which began with loud, and, 3 1 o National Education no doubt sincere, professions of friendship to voluntary efforts, has gradually drifted into a position of antagonism and hostility to denominational education. What fair- minded moderate men desire, is that it should return to its primitive spirit and more and more give the hand of fellow- ship to religious bodies, and honestly seek, through them, to spare the hardly-taxed pockets of the ratepayers. Instead of this, we have been led to expect the very opposite by those who would, if they could, impose upon us the un-English, unpatriotic, oppressive and demoralising system of compul- sory and free secular education. The various Nonconformist bodies who have favoured the Board school system through a just and rational desire not to be subjected to the teaching of the Established Church would, if such men could have their way, be subjected to the teaching of that body which they would repudiate above all as the very synagogue of Satan. If Churchmen have ever chastised them with whips, that synagogue will chastise them with scorpions. For what are the differences between the various Christian bodies compared with the differences between them and that aggressive body whose creed, sometimes avoAved, but more often dexterously dis- guised, is that they know no God, and that a future life is a dream? But it is not only on religious grounds that Englishmen must be up and doing against such efforts. If there is one thing in which England happily contrasts with surrounding nations, it is our habits of individual initiative, persevering co-operation, and local autonomy. But no greater blow could well be aimed at this national virtue than the paralysis of all our individual and corporate educational activity. Politicians of the Birmingham school have stood forth as the zealous advocates of sound political economy ; but what could be a movement more directly in the teeth of sound National Education 311 political economy than a free compulsory system of educa- tion? And Mr. Chamberlain forsooth has advocated it as logical. Seeing that the existing system is through necessity a compromise between State relief and individual action, he would raise state action to a maximum. Let him carry his logic to the Seine, where logical communistic mobs have been logically plundering the stores of inconsequent bakers. But if he is so logical, would he push his logic into the domain of the poor law, and because, through dire necessity, we there admit a minimum dose of communism, would he increase it to a maximum ? Should every pauper be provided with his orchid at the nation's expense ? To return, however, to the question of religion. If the ideals it sets before us, if the devotion it preaches and of which it so often affords us ennobling examples, are to continue to give vigour to our nation's morality, if our fellow- countrymen are still to be aided in the repression of their baser passions, and in the development of all that contributes to hearty co-operation in the cause of orderly progress and healthy national life, by the powerful sanction of religion, then it is time, high time, to come to the rescue of the oppressed consciences of a large number of our fellow- countrymen. But a certain number of well-meaning and intelligent persons will here reply : ' We grant all you say as to the value of religious teaching ; we have little faith in the mere reading of the Bible without note or comment; and we desire that the most ample justice should be accorded to all denomina- tions. But why cannot this be done by Sunday schools ? Why cannot the week be given up to secular teaching alone, and yet every school be thrown open for the use of ministers of religion on Sundays ? ' To this we reply in two ways. In the first place, we reply that, as we have endeavoured to show, so-called unsectarian 312 National Education secular teaching is really sectarian. In the second place, we reply that education cannot be thus divided ; that if religious teaching is worth anything in aiding national morality, its action should be as continuous as possible. It is by no means a matter for Sundays only, but for every day, and, if possible, for every hour in due measure and degree. But not a few of my readers may be mentally exclaiming : ' It is too late ; resistance, to have been effectual, should have been made years ago. To obtain a reversal of the Act of 1870 is altogether beyond the region of practical politics ! ' Happily for us in England, sentiments of this despairing kind have much less force than on the other ^side of the Straits of Dover. Englishmen are often unreasonable enough, as Napoleon said, not to know when they are beaten a happy ignorance which resulted in their beating him. If we once wake up to the fact that we have made a fatal mistake, we possess enough of candour to avow it, and of vigour to reverse it. But, regrettable as was the legislation referred to, we neither expect nor desire to reverse it. We desire but to ameliorate its action in harmony with the spirit of the majority of its first supporters. For, as before observed, they avowed no hostility to denominational schools, but only a wish to supplement and aid them. To the objection that opposition should have been offered much earlier, we reply it was offered much earlier by many clear-sighted opponents ; and if a mul- titude of men have only recently become aware of dangers which before were hidden from them, that is due to the fact that the more oppressive features of the system have only gradually been developed. It is no uncommon thing for a principle or institution to reveal its latent virus only after it has been allowed a considerable sphere of activity. But in the Board school system, as now exercised, we have to deplore a distinct antagonism to the denominational schools, a spirit of reckless extravagance, a blighting tendency both National Education 313 on the English spirit of self-help and upon English Christi- anity, and an undue and unjust pressure both upon the con- sciences and the purses of the ratepayers. We repeat, however, that we neither expect nor desire to reverse the legislation of 1870, but only to complete and develop it in a spirit of even-handed justice. What the par- ticular measures are which shall do this, it is not the object of this paper to suggest. It is intended merely to call atten- tion to and to re-enforce certain principles as to which we believe the overwhelming majority of Englishmen are pro- foundly agreed, but which have for a time become obscured in popular apprehension by the vague and ambiguous declam- ations of zealots for mere instruction on the one hand, and of secularist fanatics on the other. Should the cry of such fanatics ever succeed, we should witness a strange phenomenon indeed. Nonconformists have been relieved from the obliga- tion of paying church rates : this is equitable, and no one desires that it should be otherwise; but had we a secular system of national education, the burthen removed from the shoulders of dissenters would be imposed on Nonconformists and Churchmen alike, and all but the small secularist sect would be called upon to pay rates for the propagation of a Church from which Churchmen and Nonconformists alike dissent. The principles contended for in the present article may be expressed as follows : 1. Education means the training of citizens in good conduct and right feeling, as well as in intellectual culture. 2. Such education is mainly effected by the apprehension of ideals calculated to develop the higher emotions and stimulate the will in the right direction. 3. Such ideals are brought home to the mass of the people mainly through religion. 4. All knowledge, to be efficient and worth anything, must 314 National Education be definite and, so far as it goes, exact ; and this, of course, applies to moral and religious knowledge. 5. Though it is only necessary for the State to supervise and test non-religious teaching, yet it should sympathise with and favour the support of morality through the sanctions of religion. 6. It is unjust that persons of one religious denomination should be called upon to pay for the spread of the doctrines of another denomination, the tenets of which they abhor as being the negation of their own. THE MEANING OF LIFE. !" IFE in all its forms, however definable by its phenomena, -*-^ is confessedly a mystery. It is so, as seen in the irra- tional worlds of animal and vegetable existence, from the rqck-encrusting lichen up to the well-trained companions of our sports. There, as quite beyond the experience of our con- sciousness, it is especially mysterious. In the earliest stages of our being, and in certain conditions of maturity, our life is like that of the senseless plant, or like that of the thoughtless animal. In all our conscious states, however, the active intellect enters and transforms what but for it would be merely vegetative or sensitive activities. Thus, from lack of experience, we cannot imagine, however we may come to understand, what such lower forms of life in themselves may be. The object of this paper is not so much to direct attention to the meaning of life in this most general sense, as to that of human life in the individual, the nation, and the race. Yet the meaning of life in its more general sense may by this inquiry have some light thrown upon it. Although human life (as most intimately known to every one of us) is in one way less mysterious than the life of lower organisms, still the problems of human life, as they are of course the most inter- esting to us, so they are the most profound. The animal thinks nothing of its destiny ; it may suffer, it may desire, but, devoid of reflective self-consciousness, its desires and suf- ferings pass without note ; strictly speaking, it knows neither that it suffers nor that it desires. But man has been in all 3 1 6 The Meaning of Life ages occupied not only with the phenomena of his own being, but also with speculations as to his origin and destiny as to the meaning of his life and successive ages and successive phases of thought and waves of feeling have given rise to various more or less discordant solutions. The question as to the real meaning, and therefore the true end, of life, is one form of the old question as to the summum bonum a question to which a curt answer will suggest itself to the majority of Englishmen, though not perhaps to most readers of these Essays. For to very many persons that answer will probably suggest itself which they may well have gathered alike from their religious and anti-religious teachers. They will say the true aim of life is ' happiness ' in this world or the next, and that this aim is unconsciously pursued by all those who do not consciously and deliberately set it before them as their end. But if ' happiness ' is that which we should make the true end and aim of our activity, any inquiry as to the real ' mean- ing ' of life may be at once abandoned as fruitless. For that which really gives meaning to life must be that which it is at least in the power of every one to attain. Not only, however, is happiness anything but universally diffused, it is too often unattainable, and is even strangely missed by some who seem specially qualified to attain it, and never perhaps was this more evident than at present. How painfully the enigma of life now presses upon many generous minds, he who runs may read. And it is not merely the questions as to origin, destiny, and fate the lament !N"o whence no why no whither, but that we are, And nought besides. Even the very value of life itself as it passes is again and again questioned and more and more denied as pessimism gains upon us. The Meaning of Life 317 It has lately been expressly asked, ' Is life worth living ? ' a question which, though to the many mere foolishness, and to some a perversely set stumbling-block, is yet to others a real problem of sad and deep significance. While the body is healthy and appetites and passions are keen, life to most men is, of course, worth living. To the ambitious, to the enthusiastic pursuers of an ideal, to the votaries of sense, life, while full and vigorous, is manifestly a gain. It is perhaps emphatically felt so to be by those who, free from material cares and avoiding strong emotional ex- ditements (with their inevitable reactions), peacefully enjoy those calm perennial pleasures yielded by any branch of literature or science to its faithful followers. On the other hand we all know what a gloomy view of things may be occasioned by even some slight constitutional disturbance. How sadly, often, real calamity causes life to seem no blessing, but a curse, is made only too evident by the many poor souls who rush to seek they know not what, rather than bear the ills they have and feel so vividly. Now, however, it is by no means only the unhealthy, the bereaved, the forsaken, or the ruined who feel keenly the sadness of human life, and who, impressed with the dreary spectacle of widespread sin and suffering, of the apparently fruitless toil and aimless misery of so many of their brethren, question life's absolute worth. Young men whose steady pulse and clear eye show the regular and harmonious activity of heart and brain, who are beloved by their fellows, and whose means of enjoyment are ample, suffer from this sad- ness. Such sadness may indeed be merely ungrateful and morbid, but it may be also occasioned by an exceptional nobility of character and generosity of sentiment, existing under certain adverse intellectual conditions. A melancholy and morbid estimate of life may, and pro- bably often is, due to an ungrateful neglect to note the many 3 1 8 The Meaning of Life pleasures of ordinary existence. In health, even each act of respiration and many another mere organic function is accom- panied by real, if unobtrusive, pleasurableness. The support of the body in its various postures of repose, the movements of the limbs in unimpeded locomotion, are all pleasurable. And if even these lowest pleasures merit grateful advertence, how much more the countless higher ones which accompany the majority of most men's intellectual acts and emotional feel- ings ! Nevertheless there are exceptional natures which, while admitting fully the existence and more or less general diffu- sion of all our physical and intellectual pleasures, are, through certain intellectual errors, tortured by an ungratified longing after a lofty moral ideal apparently unattainable, and which restlessly cry out, ' Who will show us any good ? ' Unable to satisfy themselves with mere pleasure, however intellectual, unable to satisfy themselves with any end which their reason and higher emotions tell them is inadequate, they are yet bound hand and foot in the chains of a philosophy which forbids them to raise their eyes above phenomena, which teaches determinism, and which tests the morality of actions only by their utilitarian results. They may well exclaim My will is bondsman to the dark I sit within a helmless bark Their lament is honourable. Their dissatisfaction is reason- able. Their sadness merits the deepest respect, the tenderest sympathy. Their painful unrest calls for zealous aid. It is nothing less than the struggle of the rational conscience garroted by Agnosticism. No express controversy with that system can be here undertaken, but its rejection is in fact already implied by any serious endeavour to answer such questions as are here, with much diffidence, tentatively considered, and the importance of which many persons now so deeply feel namely, the ques- The Meaning of Life 319 tions : ' What is the good of life ? ' ' Why are we here ? ' ' What shall we do ? ' in short, the great question as to ' the meaning of life.' Upon the answers to be given to these questions hang most practical results concerning not only the aims and actions of men as individuals, but also in then* corporate capacity as bodies politic, i.e. practical results concerning nations and their government. But every art must follow the science which supplies it with its principles. The art of conduct for individuals and communities must depend upon the real significance of life, its end and aim. The consideration of the government of life must follow the inquiry as to its meaning. It would, at first sight, seem a hopeless task to say any- thing whatever new upon questions which, in one form or another, are perhaps as old as is the human race itself. The writer, at least, would feel himself guilty of absurd presump- tion if he thought that he could bring forward from his own mind any real novelty of value on so well-worn a theme. But though creative novelty may be hopeless, yet any one may again interweave the well-used threads of older intellec- tual fabrics into new combinations. These old questions are ever again and again repeated in new forms under the in- fluence of the ideas and emotional tendencies of successive periods, and they therefore continually need corresponding answers. Now there is one most important matter in which modern thought differs both from the cultivated thought of the ancient classical days of Greek and Eoman intellectual activity, and from the wonderful scientific activity and accu- racy of the Middle Ages. This matter is the way in which we regard ' Will.' Both those who deny and those who assert the freedom of the will regard it as a purely determinative faculty alto- gether sui generis. The progress of science, and especially the great discovery of the quantitative equivalence between 320 The Meaning of Life the different successive activities of the same or of different bodies (commonly called ' the transformation of energy '), has brought out, with a sharpness and distinctness never before seen, the wonderful nature of this power a nature so wonderful that on this very account its existence is again and again denied, in spite of the combined voices of con- science and of consciousness. In the Middle Ages, though the freedom of the will was fully asserted, yet the phrase applied to denote it appe- titus rationalis was one open to serious misconstruction, and which was, hi fact, seriously misconstrued. We had to wait till a later day for clearer views and expressions. The Jesuits, to whom all Churchmen, and indeed all Theists, are on so many accounts indebted, have a strong claim to grati- tude also in this matter. The Jesuits may be said to be the Church's 'Rationalists'; they are the men who have espe- cially made a free use of then* reason, and it is they who have excogitated and put forward the only truly rational theory of the will, vindicating its freedom against the more confused utterances of their predecessors. Of the moderns, Kant stands pre-eminent for the vigour with which he asserted the dignity and the freedom of the will, and the importance of ethics. In our own country we may boast of a noble series of writers who have helped to bring prominently forward the full significance of volition, and in our own day we have especially to thank the authors who wrote in that epoch-marking periodical, the British Critic. But, as has just been said, modern science has served to bring out more emphatically than ever the marvellous and isolated character of this power of choice, by showing how rigid law rules not only all living as well as all inanimate irrational creatures, but how even the immense majority of our own actions are simply automatic, while the interplay of activities (always equivalent in quantity) makes an act of free determination The Meaning of Life 321 comparable with little less than an act of Divine creation. The will thus stands markedly apart, as a power altogether peculiar ; the ' will ' of each man is seen to be his very self his individuality par excellence, his personality in excelsis ! Bearing in mind, then, all that is meant by ' will,' as now revealed in its full significance by the combined activities of moralists and men of science, let us return to the questions concerning the meaning of life, its aim, and value. The question, ' Is life worth living ? ' must depend on our conception of its proper aim and end, and of the possibility of our attaining that end. An inevitable instinct impels us all to seek our own happiness and to gratify our passions and desires, though we are by no means compelled always in all cases to choose whatever we most like. 1 Yet, however we may suffer our- selves to be borne passively along by the instinctive pleasure- seeking current, our reason can, even while we are so borne along, ask the question, ' Are we rational if we acquiesce in happiness as the supreme and deliberate aim of our life ? ' The answer of reason to itself must surely be that the rational end of life is that which should be its end, i.e. which ought to be its end ; and ' ought ' is meaningless without the conception ' duty.' Therefore, it seems that not ' happiness,' but ' duty,' is declared by reason to be our supreme end and proper aim. That it really is so declared, appears yet more distinctly (1) from an analysis of the idea 'duty'; and (2) a consideration of our power of will yet further reinforces the declaration. 1. The very conception of 'duty' is of that which is necessarily supreme of that which commands us, and is enjoined on us absolutely and without appeal. 1 The ambiguity of language often confounds the ' selection ' or ' volition ' with the ' impulse ' or ' liking,' and leads us erroneously to say ' we do what we like,' when really we choose what we ' like the less,' and make an anti- impulsive effort. VOL. I. X 322 The Meaning of L ife To many persons it will seem, at the first glance, that ' happiness ' may really be, after all, ' our being's end and aim'; but, apart from those higher and nobler aspirations which affect many minds, even men who feel them not have but steadily and repeatedly to meditate upon the word ' duty ' to perceive that, however little the declaration may come home to their feelings, yet the calm decision of their reason is that duty is that which we should always have in view in our actions, and therefore in our whole life, i.e. it should be our one great aim. Nor can the slothful and voluptuous refrain from an involuntary and inward tribute of respect to any man who seems to them constantly to make duty the aim of all his actions and his supreme guide through life. The truth of these assertions will appear more plainly when we have considered the two diverse conceptions prevalent with regard to the term ' duty.' 2. Our power of will, if it exists at all, is of so tran- scendent a nature, that no other activity known to us by experience can be even compared with it; though ranking beside it (in a different order) stands one other incomparable possession, ' reason,' declaring to us that our will should be directed to what is right. The exercise of will, therefore, in accordance with reason, must be the highest act of which we are capable that to which all our lower powers and faculties minister that which, if there is a purpose at all in our existence, must be our proper end. Not that the charms of material beauty and the delights of corporeal pleasure should be ignored or underrated by any rational man. But it seems impossible to deny that both are (however fascinating in themselves) comparatively valueless when contrasted even with intellectual power, quite apart from all thought of duty. Similarly, if we had to choose between a mental and a bodily loss of activity or beauty, we should surely a thousand times prefer to keep our intellectual integrity and The Meaning of Life 323 mental harmony. A fortiori ought we to choose the higher even if the contrast was between ' goodness ' and great ' intel- lectual capacity/ for there can be no question but that the more developed mind sees clearly that amongst its intellectual perceptions the perceptions of ' goodness ' and ' moral worth ' are immeasurably the highest : so that one would make a miserable choice indeed if one were to choose for one's-self great intellectual power and activity, accompanied by a moral nature like that of the worst of the Malatestas or Vis- contis, instead of choosing moral qualities such as those of a Spcrates, an Epictetus, or a St. Francis. It is not that we should undervalue intellect or intellectual pleasure, but that our intellect itself seems to declare that both these (however estimable and excellent in themselves) are relatively valueless when compared with ' goodness.' Man (both the individual and the race) slowly emerges from pursuits and perceptions relatively low, though good in themselves and in their degree, to pursuits and perceptions of a higher and higher character from seeking nourishment drawn from the human mother's breast, or the hunter's prey and edible roots drawn from the breast of mother earth, to higher and more complex pleasures of sense and intellect, to the full light of reflective intellectual life ; and thence on to higher and higher intellectual stages, till the individual and the race come to see and realise that ' the best ' is bent, that ' goodness ' is the highest aim, the noblest pursuit, and the one which reason bids us follow in tones now more or less threatening and imperative, now more or less alluring and persuasive. The expression ' comes to see ' has been applied to both the individual and the race because, though conscience operates with the first light of reason, and though children may be taught about ' right ' and ' wrong ' from their earliest years, yet reflexion is needed to enable us to understand and 324 The Meaning of L ife appreciate the full significance of either the teaching of the parent or that of the innate conscience. The parental teaching, however valuable and practically effective, is comparatively meaningless till the maturation of intellect enables us to wake up to the full, living signification of what we may have automatically accepted. Similarly the deliberate and intelligent pursuit of duty as a conscious end, recognised as our one best and highest aim, to be pursued for its own sake and at whatever cost, can only be fully realised by a race which has attained a considerable intellectual elevation and development. It thus seems that our reason tends to carry us one way and our instinct another. Our organism automatically and instinctively seeks its own gratification and our immediate happiness, while our intellect imperatively commands the pursuit of duty at no matter what sacrifice of happiness. There is, then, as we all too well know, this profound discord and divergence in our being ; and to some men who keenly suffer from the conflict, who feel acutely the many miseries of human life which surround them on all sides, and who see no reason to hope confidently for an ultimate harmony between happiness and duty (a hope abundantly justified by Theism), life may well seem to be a bane, and a Buddhistic Nirvana, an object of reasonable aspiration. To those, on the other hand, who see signs of the exist- ence of an all-controlling Power ' which makes for righteous- ness,' the ultimate coincidence, here or hereafter, of virtue and happiness becomes a certainty, however much their virtue may be tried and augmented by the apparently insur- mountable difficulties which seem as if they must frustrate such coincidence. For these men life has indeed a rational meaning and object, and consequently a priceless value. It has a priceless value because, as reason declares the per- formance of duty to be the one thing needful that which is The Meaning of Life 325 unutterably beyond all else in value it necessarily follows that what is indispensable to its performance must be of a value second only to itself. Our natural instinct, indeed, powerfully tends, by itself alone, to the preservation of our lives ; but the action of this instinct is further reinforced by reason, since reason makes it clear that life is to be sacrificed to nothing but that which is its object the performance of duty to which alone it stands second in value. Thus it seems that life is ' a good,' inasmuch as it is the arena for the fulfilment of duty, for the right exercise of our most wonderful power of will. The meaning of life, then, the purpose of our existence, is such fulfilment of duty. But we may now turn to consider the two prevalent con- ceptions (before adverted to) regarding the question ' What is duty ? ' The question, in the first place, may have two significations : ' What is our duty in the concrete ? ' and ' What is duty itself in the abstract ? ' The former significa- tion of the question, however, will only occupy us later, when we come to consider the practical results as to ' the govern- ment of life' which follow from our interpretation of its meaning. To the abstract question two very divergent answers are, as every one knows, given by two fundamentally divergent schools of thought. These two divergent answers carry with them consequences which run up from individual ethics to politics, and logically result in widely differing views as to social organisation and as to the claims and obligations of the various members of each social com- munity. The view as to duty which has been and is so promi- nently taught in this country by the representatives of Hume, and which is propagated by Agnostics of all shades, is one which happily human nature, and emphatically English human nature, will never thoroughly assimilate innate and inherited tendencies too strongly bearing 326 The Meaning of Life witness in favour of the opposite belief. The Agnostic view as to 'duty' is that it is a function of 'pleasure' a view which annihilates the very conception it professes to explain. The same Agnostic school, especially as represented by extreme evolutionists, asserts that in spite of the present difference between the ideas of ' pleasure ' and ' duty,' they are,- nevertheless, one as to their origin an origin consisting ultimately of pleasurable and painful sensations. Moral con- ceptions, they say, have been evolved from pleasurable sensa- tions by the preservation, through long ages (in the struggle for life), of a predominating number of such individuals as happened to have a natural and spontaneous liking for prac- tices and habits of mind useful to their tribe or race, while the same action has destroyed a predominating number of those individuals who possessed a marked tendency to con- trary practices. The descendants of individuals so preserved have, they say, come to inherit such a liking and such useful habits of mind, and at last (finding this inherited tendency thus existing in themselves distinct from their tendency to self-conscious gratification) have become apt to regard it as fundamentally distinct, innate, and independent of all experience. In fact, according to this school, the idea of ' right ' is only the result of the gradual accretion of useful predilections, which, from time to time, arose in a series of ancestors naturally selected. In this way ' morality * is the congealed past experience of the race, and ' virtue ' becomes, as it were, a sort of ' retrieving,' which the thus improved human animal practises by a perfected and inherited habit, regardless of self-gratification, just as the brute animal has acquired the habit of seeking prey and bringing it to his master instead of devouring it himself. As Mr. Martineau has briefly put it : ' Conscience is a hoarded fund of tradi- tionary pressures of utility; . . . our higher attributes are The Meaning of Life 327 only the lower which have lost their memory, and mistake themselves for something else.' The same teaching also asserts that no man has any power to determine his own volitions. The unanimous verdict of our most generally foUowed psychologists (the two Mills, Bain, Spencer, etc.) would represent an act of will as being nothing more than the oversetting of an unstable balance which has been temporarily maintained between competing attractions the passing from tendency into action (mental or bodily) in some definite direction. According to this doctrine there can, in fact, be no such thing as an ' act of will ' at all ; the only ' actions ' can be those of the attract- ing influences and the automatic responsive action of the organism. The same school further teaches that acts which have useful results, however indeliberate and automatic, are really good actions, and that the best intentions do not pre- vent materially hurtful actions from being altogether bad. The result is an inculcation that the one thing needful is to elicit from each man and from each community as many useful actions as possible, i.e. actions tending to promote the material happiness and prosperity of individuals, of the nation, and of the race ; and it logically follows that for this end we may fitly employ others and employ ourselves merely as means that no right possessed by the individual can be validly pleaded in bar of the general material prosperity. Salus populi suprema lex. Such is one of the two widely divergent answers to the question ' What is " duty " ? ' The other answer, that which is here adopted and defended, is very different. It asserts, in the first place, that though it is right to do many things because they are useful, yet ' virtue ' and ' utility ' are ideas not only fundamentally distinct, but so far in actual opposi- tion that the existence of utility in an action may now and a^ain detract from its virtue. So essential is the distinction O 328 The Meaning of Life that not only does the idea of ' benefit ' not enter into the idea of ' duty,' but we even see that the very fact of an act not being beneficial to the doer of it, makes it the more praiseworthy. Its merit is increased by any self-denial which may be neces- sary to its performance, while gain tends to diminish the merit of an action. It is not that the absence of gain or pleasure to us is a benefit to our neighbour ; it is that the absence of any remuneration (irrespective of any advantage thereby occasioned to our neighbour) in itself heightens the value of the action. That, therefore, cannot be the substance of duty which by its absence makes an act more dutiful. Secondly, this answer asserts that every sane man has abso- lute power to determine many of his acts of will nay, that he is even largely responsible for his tastes and convictions as being greatly the unconscious outcome of his antecedent volitions. For both desires and emotions, though quite dis- tinct from the will, are yet very often really dependent thereon when such an origin is altogether unsuspected. Thirdly, it asserts that actions which are done in obedience to conscience are really ' good actions,' even though mistaken and hurtful, and that the most beneficent actions are not really good unless done from a good motive in obedience to 'duty.' Thus arises the distinction between acts 'good' in two different senses : (1) 'materially moral acts acts good in themselves as acts apart from the intention of the doer of them ; and (2) formally moral acts acts which are done with a deliberate intention of acting rightly. This distinc- tion is so obvious that it would seem to need more than a bare statement to make its validity evident ; and yet, strange to say, it is either ignored or expressly denied by the most popular of our Agnostic writers. Therefore an example or two may not, perhaps, be uselessly cited. If one man, in- tending to do harm to another, through a miscalculation as to his action, benefits him he would injure, no unsophisti- The Meaning of Life 329 cated man would call such a ' useful ' action a really ' good ' one. If a dying man is attended with patience, care, and exactness, but solely with the hope of obtaining a legacy to the detriment of others having a better claim, such attend- ance would afford an example of an action 'materially good, but certainly not virtuous formally. A man may shoot his father in the dark, taking him to be an assassin, an act which makes him 'materially, but by no means really or for- mally, a parricide, since he had no parricidal intention. It is not meant to assert that no man can perform a really good action unless he pauses and reflects as to his intention, or that spontaneous good actions are devoid of merit. What is meant is that, in order that any action should be really ' good,' the doer of it must directly or indirectly be moved by the idea of 'right' present to his mind then or ante- cedently, so as to have become a mental habit. The action must be, in fact, directed by him who does it to a good end either actually or virtually. The idea of good, which he has in the past apprehended, must be influencing the man at the time, whether he adverts to it or not ; otherwise the action is not moral. The merit of that virtue which shows itself even in the spontaneous, indeliberate actions of a good man, results from the fact of previous acts having been consciously directed to goodness, by which a habit has been formed. The more thoroughly a man is possessed by the idea of duty, the more his whole being is saturated with that idea, the more will goodness show itself in all his even spontaneous actions, while these will have additional merit through their very spontaneity. It is thus 'intentions,' and not 'consequences,' which determine the morality of actions. ' Goodness ' resides in volition acting in conformity with reason when it points out ' the right.' The result of this mode of answering the ques- Mean ing of Life tion as to ' duty,' is that what appears to be the one thing needful is that each man and each community should abound in good volitions, if, that is, good volition is the real end of our existence if the meaning of life is the furnishing a neces- sary and adequate field for its performance. That such is the meaning of human life, the foregoing brief review of the significations given to the word ' duty ' may serve to bring out with greater clearness. Recognising fully the thorough dis- tinctness of the conception, as well as its imperiousness, the innate and necessary contradiction which exists in the attempt to make happiness the end of existence to a moral nature becomes manifest. The supremacy of that which ' ought ' to be supreme, must be, if life has any meaning, the only legiti- mate supremacy, and if, ' right ' being sought as the one end, unsought ' happiness ' necessarily follows as its result, then life has indeed a meaning which is distinct and satisfying, and such a meaning it must present to the mind of every consistent Theist. But if such be the meaning of life, such the true concep- tion of ' duty,' in what light are we to regard ' pleasure ' ? If ' happiness ' is not to be our aim, what is the meaning and purpose of ' pleasure ' ? If the world is the creation of a Being whose title of ' good ' serves but as a symbol for a beneficence which no mind but His own can adequately conceive of, then the happiness which creatures enjoy is His free gift, intended for their en- joyment. But with regard to moral beings, such as men, it is evident that if virtue is their end, and intended to be their conscious aim, such happiness and pleasure as they experi- ence must be secondary and subordinate in purpose, and if pleasure is capable of ministering to man's great end, Theists would be unreasonable if they did not regard it as intended so to minister. Theism, in fact, makes no other conception a possible one. Plainly life, which is unendurable to so many The Meaning of Life 331 as it is, would be much less endurable if deprived of its multi- tudinous amenities, and without life there could be no fulfil- ment of duty. The pleasures also which make life valuable as a whole serve to facilitate the performance of most of the actions which fill our lives, and amongst them our good actions. The pleasures which accompany gratitude, the exercise of beneficence, the vindication of justice, etc., greatly help us to perform right actions undertaken from right motives. We may say, then, that pleasure is intended to aid virtue, and there are two modes in Avhich it does so. To cheer and help us on our way in the fulfilment of our dut}^ is one mode, but the other mode, not less important and far higher, is the opportunity it affords for self-denial and self- sacrifice. Evidently pleasures are well used when they help us to act rightly ; they are still better used when they are renounced that we may act yet more rightly. Not, of course, that there is any virtue or merit in renouncing pleasure for the mere sake of renouncing it, but only when by so doing we may attain a higher good, otherwise unattainable, for our- selves or for other men. ' Pleasure ' thus comes to have a great moral value, as it alone renders possible the higher human virtues of generosity and self-sacrifice, and is especially valuable as affording us a means for testing our fidelity and our love, by its voluntary abandonment. Through persever- ance in this exercise in small things as in great, the mind may be trained and braced to an ever higher moral standard. The moral value which attaches to our pleasures of course attaches also in a similar manner to our pains. Accepting then what reason declares namely, that human life is to be regarded as an arena for the fulfilment of duty we may next consider what principles should regulate that fulfilment in the life of each individual, and then endeavour to ascertain how far the meaning here assigned to human life is applicable to the life of a nation or of a race, and what, 332 The Mean ing of Life if any, further principles may disclose themselves in the course of such inquiry. First as to the individual, it is manifest that, in order to fulfil his end and do his duty, he must know it, and for this he must learn his own nature and his relations to other beings, that he may feel, will, and act with proportionate reverence to all in their various degrees and according to their several claims. Surrounded as he is by a multitude of other living beings to whom he is in diverse ways related, he can- not act rightly even to himself unless he estimates correctly his duties to them and his relative position. And in the first place the living beings which surround him and present themselves to his senses belong to two very different classes. (1) In the first category are those beings who are, like himself, ' persons,' i.e. beings with intelligence and free will, and therefore with moral responsibility. What- ever their position, they have the same one great end set before them, and their life has, from the ethical standpoint, the same objective value as his own. Since they have duties as he has, therefore their rights must limit his own rights ; they cannot be justly made use of by him as his slaves or instruments, as if the end of their being were different from his own. (2) In the second category are those living creatures who, being devoid of intellect and free volition, cannot incur moral guilt, who have not the same end, and whose life has not the same objective value as his own. Such creatures, as they have nothing which can be properly called ' duties/ so they have no ' rights ' which can be properly so called. They may justly be treated as mere instruments and slaves, yet not alto- gether without reverence or without consideration for the feel- ings of such as are sentient, if unintelligent. If these crea- tures have no rights of their own, they have quasi rights which result from their being intrusted by God to the care of The Meaning of Life 333 men, i.e. to the care of beings who, in addition to their intelli- gence, have corporeal feelings, and may therefore be justly expected to sympathise with the sufferings of their irrational fellow-creatures. Thus a wide gulf, as it were, separates the relations of rational creatures one to another, and those between rational and irrational creatures. But, whatever gulf exists between such diverse beings and their interrelations, it is of course absolutely nothing to the abyss which separates the claims upon us of our fellow-creatures, and the claim upon us of God a God of whom morality is not the creature, but the essence. Yet no real conflict of duties Can thence arise, nor can such supreme claim justify any neglect of duty to our fellows. The service of such a God must absolutely coincide Avith the carrying out of what alone gives an adequate mean- ing and aim to life. It is as impossible to serve such a God by doing anything which our conscience tells us is wrong, as it would be to fail to serve him by faithful obedience to our conscience, even though it be ill-informed and mistaken while we obey it. An ignorant transgression of his real law must be indefinitely better and more acceptable than an uncon- scientious conformity to it. The worship and service of such a God must be morality in its highest expression, and religion must be the essence of morality. Thus understood, to know, love, and serve God must be the noblest destiny, the highest aim and end of which any creature can be capable. In that ami will necessarily be included the fulfilment of all our duties in their due degree ; the claims upon us of creatures, whether ' persons ' or less than persons, are thus reinforced beyond measure ; and a new light is thrown upon a duty as ' yet unnoticed our duty to ourselves. God, as the concrete infinity of goodness, beauty, and truth, who has endowed us with the power of understanding and admiring such qualities, is, in part, to be served and 334 The Mean ing of Life loved by our seeking to develop these very qualities in due subordination, by a true self-culture, physical, intellectual, aesthetic, and moral. The expression ' in due subordination ' of course implies that in comparison with moral good, all other good is value- less a fortiori in comparison with the flower of morality, which is, as we have seen, religion. But though the greatest bodily perfection, the most refined poetic creation, and the most brilliant physical discovery all fall into utter insignifi- cance when compared with one virtuous act of will, yet these things have their absolute value after all. A body which is the vehicle through which alone duty can be performed by us merits on that very account careful conservation, and, as the gift and creature of God, reverence and attention, save only when, or in so far as, such care may accidentally be the occa- sion of moral defect, and then reason declares that neither eye nor limb is to be spared if either be a necessary occasion of offence. Similarly the intellect, without which morality cannot exist, demands cultivation as a duty, if only for the reason that our conscience may thereby be better informed, and our actions (our will remaining good) so become more and more worthy. But besides this, our intellect, as so noble a gift from God, deserves the highest cultivation we can give it, even for its own sake, except when, under special circum- stances, such cultivation leads to moral evil, and then it must clearly be foregone. The same considerations may be applied to our aesthetic faculties. Our higher emotions are noble powers which merit development for their own sake, in addition to the reverence they deserve as being the powerful aids they are to right voli- tion. This distinct claim, on religious grounds, of our physical, intellectual, and aesthetic powers to care and culture has been too much overlooked. It cannot be denied that The Mean ing of Life 335 morality, though incomparably the most important object of culture, is not everything. Though it should be the supreme, it need not be the whole and sole object of our care. The perfect man is healthy, strong, beautiful, intellectual, and resthetically refined, as well as moral and religious. This conscience itself declares by demanding reverence for our higher emotions, our intellectual powers, and even our very physical frame. Nevertheless, though physical, intellectual, and aesthetic perfections are good, they are evidently not necessary goods ; though all of them are legitimately desirable, there is but one thing need/id our being's end, the fulfil- ment of duty. The meaning of human life for each individual, then, seems to be represented to us by unprejudiced reason as a series of opportunities for exercising the most transcendent power known to us in nature right volition. The pains and pleasures of existence supply us with abundant and unceasing occasions of choice between a higher and a lower good, and conscience is ever at hand to suggest our adoption of the higher. Were ' happiness ' the end of life, we saw that life as we know it must be meaningless, since happiness is not uni- versally obtained. It is quite otherwise if the exercise of will be that end, for that is obtained universally. No possible cir- cumstances can deprive us of that end, or divert us from it. Nothing can make life aimless to us, no toil can be fruit- less, no suffering or misery useless ; for no power, not even Almighty power itself, can, without depriving us of the use of our faculties, and so destroying our responsibility and moral life, divest us of our power of will. Subordinate to this great end, individual life serves, and, theistically viewed, must have been designed to serve, as a means for mani- festing the most varied individual excellences of all kinds, physical, intellectual, and aesthetic. Such being the conclu- sion arrived at with respect to the meaning and end of life 336 The Meaning of L ife for the individual, we may next consider the life of a com- munity and the relations between it and the life of the individual. A community or nation has, since Machiavelli, often been compared to a living organism, with its organs of pre- hension, secretion, assimilation, circulation, repair and repro- duction, and nervous supervision and regulation. To a cer- tain extent the ingenious parallel holds good, but it must not be pressed too far. For the highest activities existing in the social organism are volition and thought, and each of these is exclusively the activity of the individual man, not of the community, however much thought and will may be stimu- lated by social existence. Feeling is, of course, also the ex- clusive property of the individual. The social organism may perish, but it is only the individual men that can really suffer, that can think, that can will and act, that can be faith- ful or unfaithful to duty and conscience. If, therefore, the fulfilment of duty be the end of life for the individual, the meaning and end of social existence must be to aid and sub- serve that end an end which is beyond its own inferior power. The existence of each morally responsible being con- stitutes an end in itself. The existence of a social organism which is unable to think or will must serve to act mainly as a means to that greater end which is set before its individual components. But though the social organism has no objec- tive existence as an organism, it has nevertheless a certain existence in its component units. The individuals who constitute every civilised community exist, not only as juxtaposed and separate units, but also as units which have varying kinds of relation one to another, and each to the whole. They are individuals existing in some one definite condition or combination of relations ; they form (i State, and certain individuals which, by means of one kind or another, wield the power of the complex mass, form its government. Thus, though the State, as ' a State,' has no The Meaning of Life 337 real existence apart from the individuals who compose it, yet it really exists as a certain condition of relationship in such individuals just as a genus and a species (which have no separate objective existence) exist in the characters and pro- perties possessed by the various individual units which together make up such natural groups. Every ' State/ then, should be organised for the benefit of the individuals who form it, and every ' government ' should exist exclusively for their service and welfare. But it is no less evident that each individual has duties as well as rights in the face of the ' State ' and ' government ' in which he is included. For his duties to his fellow-men not only regard those fellow-men in their individual capacity, but also regard them in their related aspect as members of a State and sub- jects of a government. The duty is really to individuals always, but (as it is to individuals so specially related) we may, for convenience and shortness, speak of duties to ' the State,' although the expression requires to be used cautiously, as it is a misleading one, and one calculated to favour the sacrifice of realities to abstractions. With regard to the duty of the State towards the individual, as the government and State exist for the individual, as the meaning of social and national life is to aid and develop individual life, the State's end must be determined by that of the individual. Now each man having the powers and duties already enumerated is bound to desire to promote the welfare of his fellows, and above all their moral welfare. Therefore each community is bound above all to promote the moral welfare of its members (that is, their conscientiousness), that they may abound in energetic, intelligent, deliberate, good volitions andjictions. Therefore the motto, ' The greatest happiness for the greatest number,' though an admirable expression of benevolence jmd good in itself, yet, as expressing the one great aim and end of social organisation, is a false, misleading, and degrading principle. VOL. i. Y 338 The Meaning of Life Now the indispensable condition of human virtue is moral freedom, and, as we have seen, the rights of each person, or morally responsible being, are strictly limited by the corre- sponding rights of his fellows. Therefore it is incumbent on all to leave to each as much freedom as is consistent with the freedom of others, and to pay extreme respect to the individual conscience. For each man's life has, as we have seen, the dignity of being an end in itself namely, the fulfil- ment of a moral career and we may not employ other men, or even ourselves, as mere means (irrespective of such moral end) to bring about any conceivable prosperity of any multi- tude of other beings. The individual as a person (i.e. an intelligence with free volition) has rights which override the merely material welfare of worlds. Not only may we not say, ' Salu populi suprema lex,' x but we may properly exclaim, ' Fiat justitia ruat ccelum ! ' Even if, per impossibile, uni- versal conscientious action should result in the world's entire destruction, then rational beings, who understood the neces- sary supremacy of right, could but exclaim with St. Augustine, ' Oh ! felix exitium mundi ! ' As we have seen, the great end of life for each individual man is right volition ; but we have also seen that many sub- ordinate goods are to be sought with due regard to their relative worth. It follows, consequently, that each complex of individuals, each community or nation, is bound not only to pay the most extreme deference and respect to the individual conscience, but also to have due regard to the physical, intellectual, and aesthetic culture of its individual members, always in due subordination, however, to their freedom as moral agents. Moreover, the respect to be shown to the several individuals, 1 Unless saluK moralis be understood. But this is no contradiction, since it cannot be for the moral health of the community to treat an individual man immorally. The Meaning of Life 339 necessarily entails respect for those subordinate creations or aggregations which the units of a State naturally and willingly, and altogether voluntarily, assume. Above all is such respect due to the family and to property ; and it is also due to all voluntary associations of individuals, and to such voluntary segregations and aggregations of their own property as indi- viduals may choose to form or institute, provided that by so doing they do not infringe upon the rights of their fellows. A similar respect is to be shown to endeavours to promote and develop intelligence by the publication of opinions and their free discussion. Just, however, as the individual is bound to subordinate his passions and lower tendencies to his reason and conscience, 'so neither the individual in his solitary nor in his coUective capacity as a member of the State is bound to tolerate, rather is he absolutely bound to repress, expressions and actions on the part of individuals, which expressions and actions he has good grounds for cer- tainly knowing are the manifestations of bad volition and not of conscientious conviction, or which have directly and mani- festly immoral consequences. Moreover, as the rights of each limit the rights of all, there are unquestionably true ' rights of man,' and the unimpeded exercise of those rights is that ' liberty ' which may justly call forth the ardent aspirations of every lover of justice and of his kind. The same love of our fellow-men must also cause equality (the elimination of social injustice) and fraternity (the diffusion of true charity) to be no less objects of bene- volent desire. It follows also that the natural form of govern- ment in a community of men who understand and act up to their duties, must be a government of express or tacit mutual surrender and harmonious co-operation must, in fact, be a ' social contract' Thus it seems that the recognition of virtue as our one end, and of moral freedom as its, one necessary condition, 340 The Meaning of Life results in consequences which harmonise with that teaching which, however misunderstood and misapplied, has found its way to the hearts of men over the wide world, and which seems to hold the promise of the future. Tlie duties of the individual to the State that is, of the individual to his fellows regarded in their complex social relations is manifestly obedience in all things which do not violate his conscience. If, however, any act required of him is clearly and certainly against his conscience after he has taken all possible pains to inform it rightly, then at all hazards he must unhesitatingly refuse to obey, whatever consequences may ensue to himself, to others, or to the whole State. But although rebellion, save by such passive resistance, is always unjustifiable, it is always justifiable to oppose and to seek to change the state (that is, to destroy it and make it into an- other State) by persuasion. Hostility to the State, and even its destruction, are nothing less than positive duties if it is clear that its existence is a crying moral evil for the men and women who compose it. To deny this would be to commit the absurdity of mistaking the means for the end. Never- theless, it is manifest that great deference is due to the opinions of a majority of our fellows if their means of in- formation are as good as our own, and much more so if there is any reason to suppose such means may be yet better than our own. But besides the reciprocal duties and claims between the community and its component members regarded in their isolated capacity, the State has certain duties to itself. That is to say, the action of individuals may regard their fellows not at all as individual men, but solely with reference to those complex social relations the existence of which constitutes them ' a State.' In the first place, each organised community of individuals, each State, may properly desire and strive after its own per- The Mean ing of L ife 341 sistence and perfection (i.e. the definite, coherent, and complex development of the relations which constitute it), and its government may properly endeavour to promote such ends by all moral means. It must not, however, do so by attack- ing the conscience of its members for any such purpose. But if the existing state or condition of a community be one exceptionally favourable to morality, a government may, with extreme reluctance and in the last resort, justly exercise pressure on consciences, even for the preservation of the State not, however, for the preservation of the State as an end, but merely as the lesser of two moral evils, and as a means towards the furtherance of that moral good (supposed to be inextricably connected therewith) which is the only proper end of human life, whether individual or social. There is yet another corporate duty of men to one another. The State has duties to other States ; that is to say, two different communities of men are bound to act towards each other not only with regard to their characters as individual men, but also with regard to those conditions of relationship which bind them up into States. In the first place, as each community has a right to preserve itself, it has manifestly the right to defend itself against the aggressions of other communities; and similarly, on the principle of mutual good- will, each com- munity is morally bound to respect the integrity and freedom of other communities. But these rights and duties have narrower limits than have the analogous rights and duties of individuals. For, in the first place, if we destroy an indi- vidual, we render impossible the performance of duty any longer by him. But if we destroy a State, without taking life, we do not necessarily occasion the diminution of active virtue in the slightest degree, for ' a State ' can be no more really * virtuous ' or ' vicious ' than it can think, will, or feel pain- such conditions being, of course, the attributes of its con- stituent individuals alone. On the other hand, we may, by 34 2 The Meaning of Life such destruction, promote virtue, if the condition of a State is such as powerfully to depress virtue and promote evil in its component individuals. The last State duty which need here be glanced at is the duty of the State towards God. Every man has duties not only towards his fellows, but also towards God. He has first of all to look to his religious action, which extends beyond the visible world, as well as to his temporal concerns, which regard this world only. The duty, therefore, of a community of such individuals must evidently also be to look in the first place, and above all things, at their duties towards God, so as to make those duties their supreme concern in their social regulations, which should, it is plain, be harmoniously ordered in accord- ance therewith. The consideration as to the duty of the community, as a community, to God, throws further light upon the various subordinate goods which rank in a hierarchy of ends beneath moral good. As we have seen with the individual, such highest good is not the only one, and the lower goods may be pursued each for its own sake as a gift of God, and in due subordination to the highest. A fortiori is this the case with the merely temporal life of a community considered as a social organism. If the meaning and purpose of the life of the individual may be, hi part and quite subordinately, to manifest diverse forms of individual excellence, so social life may be conceived as intended, in subserviency to moral ends, to manifest diverse forms of social development and perfection. If, however, the relation of the State to God has these consequences, another also plainly results. It is this that as God is the author, sustainer, and governor of all things, the State and Govern- ment (however popularly elected, however it may really ex- press a social contract) is and must be a government of divine right ; and this consideration yet further shows the culpability of rebellion and revolt. The Meaning of Life 343 The relation of a nation to God is generally expressed in terms of what are called the reciprocal rights and duties of ' Church ' and ' State,' but the more correct expression would perhaps be ' the relations between the temporal and spiritual governments of a State.' Let us analyse a little the conceptions implied by this phrase, in the light of real visible existences, and of individual rights. As has been said, a government should exist for the sake of the governed, and the government of an ideally civilised State would be a perfectly constitutional one, the result of a social contract. But every government must consist of who- ever (one, few, or many individuals) manages or is chosen to absorb and direct the means and efforts of the community in definite directions for definite ends. Every unit of each State may be considered as being more or less religious, as having both his mundane and his religious side. He may exert himself, spend time, effort, and means, to a greater or less extent, with a view to another world as well as with a view to this world. As the various individuals of the community have each these two sides to their being, so there are necessarily two corresponding sides to every organised community, or State, the individuals of which are thus bipolar. And as the bipo- larities of each constituent portion of a magnet result in two conspicuously divergent poles, so do these diverse attributes of the individual men of a State, tend to result in two con- spicuous manifestations the Church and 'so-called State' of a community. Whatever body (of few or many individuals) manages or is chosen to absorb and direct the means and efforts of the community for temporal ends, is the temporal government ' the so-called State ' of that community. Whatever body (of few or many individuals) manages or is chosen to absorb and direct the means and efforts of the 3 44 The Meaning of Life community for religious ends, is the ecclesiastical or spiritual government ' the Church ' of such community. Just as the two poles of a magnet may be so arranged and bound up together as to appear one, though really as bipolar as before, so these two governments may present the external appearance of a unity. This appearance may be produced by the encroachment of either on the domain of the other, or by the voluntary conferring of both powers on one executive. Examples of such apparent unity have been the governments of the Ccesars, the Caliphs, the Popes, and the commonwealths of Geneva and Massachusetts. Thus ' the Church ' or churches of a community means its individuals in certain voluntary relations, and considered from one point of view, while ' the State ' means the same individuals in other relations and considered from another point of view. It is evident that evils may arise from certain tempta- tions which necessarily beset both the temporal and also the spiritual government. The temporal governors may be tempted to employ the means and efforts of the community unduly for their own private temporal advantage and enjoyment. They may be tempted to abuse the trust imposed on them in order to augment their power, treating their subjects as mere means, and disregarding their essential rights as persons. This may be carried so far as to lead them to disregard altogether the desires of the governed in spiritual matters, overriding religious scruples and oppressing consciences for merely temporal ends, and so violating the final end of their existence. Similarly the spiritual governors may be tempted to use the means and, efforts of the community unduly for their own private enjoyment. The Meaning of Life 345 They may be tempted to abuse the trust imposed on them to augment their power, treating men as mere means, and disregarding their essential rights as persons. They may be tempted to use, or to try to use, the means and efforts of a whole community to oppress the consciences of a minority in a body where divergence as to religious views exists, or at least to produce unfair action towards such minority. Thus a so-called struggle for ' Church rights ' may now and again really be but an effort on the part of the religious nominees of one set of citizens to use the means and efforts of others who did not nominate them (of the whole community, in fact) for religious ends to which a con- siderable section of the community is opposed. We have State tyranny when the individuals of the social organism who have been chosen to govern in temporal matters (not being also spiritual governors) seek to control and direct the religious affairs of a community or of a por- tion of it against their will, or seek to restrict their actions, denying them freedom in religious matters. We have theocratic tyranny when the individuals of the social organism who have been chosen to govern in spiritual matters (not being also temporal governors) use the means and efforts of dissidents for spiritual ends against their will, or restrict their actions, denying them freedom in temporal matters. In both forms of tyranny, governing individuals seek to control either the mundane or religious affairs of others with- out having been authorised by the latter so to act with re- spect to them, either seeking to infringe subordinate rights or even attacking and seeking to oppress the most sacred of all human things, conscience, and so frustrating the very end for which life, whether individual or social, has its existence. We may then, it seems, venture to assert with respect to the meaning and true aim of social life that it is first and 346 The Meaning of Life supereminently, a condition intended to aid and promote right volition on the part of individuals, and subordinately to help to develop in them all those minor excellences of which they have been made capable by their Creator. Besides these ends, every Theist must also assert that in a still more subordinate degree social life has for its aim to manifest in the world a variety of what may analogically be called ' social organisms ' presenting the most varied conditions of utility, harmony, and beauty. It only remains now to consider what may reasonably be said as to the meaning of human life considered as one vast whole, extending from times long anterior to those which saw our first Palaeolithic flint- workers, to the most highly developed races of the future, and onwards till this planet ceases to be inhabited by mankind. Such a question no man, revelation apart (and in this paper there is no question but of natural reason), is com- petent thoroughly to answer. Even to seek to answer it at all, seems, at the first glance, a monstrous presumption on the part of any one of the momentarily existing units which together successively make up the long procession of the ages of human existence. Nevertheless, there are certain truths which throw light even upon so vast and seemingly unanswerable a question. In the first place, as societies have no objective existence, save as conditions of the individuals who compose them, and as their ends must be subordinate to the purposes of indi- vidual life, so ' human life as a whole ' is but a way of regard- ing individual lives the life of each viewed in relation to the life of all and must also be similarly subordinate. We may say, then, that the life of mankind means an arena for the exercise of right volitions, and for the manifestation of the various subordinate excellences of the individual, of human societies, and of the whole human race. The Meaning of Life 347 Secondly, every Theist must assert that the course of history reveals the purposes of God. And what has been that course? Through long-continued ages, when social change seems to have been very slow, as it certainly is over so large a part of the earth's surface now, a basis was none the less being prepared for those developments and trans- formations which have shown themselves in later ages, especially since the Christian era. Manifest proofs of early Theism exist in Judea, Eg}'-pt, and amongst our Aryan forefathers. Intellectual activity and aesthetic feeling so cul- minated in ancient Greece that its citizens have ever since been the teachers of mankind in art, the drama, oratory, history, poetry, and philosophy. Conscience was coeval with mankind, for man without conscience is not man ; and no particle of evidence exists that any race of man now exists, or ever did exist, altogether devoid of moral perceptions and responsibility. Neverthe- less, the full perception of the just claims of conscience is a modern growth. In the pagan Roman Empire, as before in Greece, the omnipotence of the State was a universal doc- trine and praftice. The individual citizen had no recognised, sacred, God-given rights to maintain, and the will or the welfare of the community rose superior to every plea which any single citizen could put forward. It was the Jews and Christians who, for the first time, to the amazement of judges who would fain have been merciful, maintained the sacred rights of conscience, and, by patient endurance, sufferings, and death, vindicated the claim of the individual to the proper freedom of a rational and responsible nature. But in times yet more recent the recognition of the sacred- ness of conscience has continually gained ground, alike by efforts intended to promote it, as well as by efforts made in utter disregard of it. The tendency of this modern movement has been (amongst many acts which are to be deplored) to make 348 The Meaning of Life the individual more free to dispose of his means and efforts religiously according to his own will, and not according to the will of others. This movement, which has now continued for six hundred years, and extended over the whole area of Christendom in spite of the most persevering and zealous efforts of the most varied kinds to reverse and repress it a movement which has been the very flower of human pro- gress, seeing that all the highest races of the world have concurred in it, and that the advance of human society through all the ages which have preceded it was not to be compared with it such a movement cannot surely, by any one but a Manichean, be deemed other than one specially ordained by God's providence for a wise and good end. The movement of human progress, judged by what we see up to our own days, may be compared with the develop- ment of the individual man. It is a process of intellectual differentiation and integration, a movement from direct and simple apprehensions to more and more reflex, self-conscious, and complex comprehensions. What has taken place for ages unconsciously and unintentionally, now takes place with deliberation and full consciousness; and this characteristic of deliberate self-consciousness is daily spreading over a wider area of human action. All these facts being borne in mind, and the lesson they convey being seen to coincide with and reinforce the meaning of life before arrived at, we may venture without presumption to affirm that the course of human life has been arranged so to afford a constantly in- creasing field for more and more intelligent and deliberate and fully intentioned right volitions performed by individuals presenting the greatest variety of increasing individual ex- cellences, and grouped in aggregations tending to manifest greater and greater degrees of utility, harmony, and beauty, and, above all, more and more favouring the full and free development of the individual conscience. The Meaning of Life 349 But the considerations here put forward as to the totality of human life may be yet further extended, and some specu- lation may be even hazarded as to the aim and meaning of all life which exists or has existed in the beautiful world we inhabit. Geology and palaeontology show us that a great process of evolution has taken place in the past, and is taking place now. In examining the creatures around us we see varying degrees of perfection expressed by the terms organic and in- organic, animal and vegetable existence. Science gives us good grounds for believing that before this world was the theatre of organic life-processes, it had existed as an inorganic mass of highly complex materials, each with its special properties, and that animal life (at least in all but its lowest forms) was preceded in existence by the kingdom of plants. Certainly we may affirm that all these forms of life the merely in- organic, the vital, and the sentient co-existed for untold ages before the introduction into the world of the self-conscious life of man. The inorganic world long existed alone, and could so have persisted indefinitely. It had, and has, no need of living organisms for its being. The vegetable world, which feeds upon inorganic matter, could not exist without what had preceded it, but might for untold ages, or for ever, have lived and flourished, nourished but by showers and breezes, fer- tilised but by the wind, with no hum of insects about its inconspicuous flowers, and with no songsters amidst its groves. The animal world, which is necessitated ever directly or indirectly to feed upon the vegetable world, could not exist without the earth's green, vital, but insentient vesture, yet might for untold ages, or for ever, have lived, undorninated by the hunter and with no experience of domestication and pampered servitude. 3 50 The Meaning of Life Man, though capable of sustaining life on vegetable food alone, could never have attained his high civilisation without the aid of his dogs and horses, his flocks and herds. The animal world has been necessary to him, as he is. Thus an increase of service, and a consequently increased dependence, are manifest as we ascend through these degrees of existence. Cosmical entities and their laws serve organic being more than inorganic, sentient being more than insen- tient, rational being more than sentient. Now, if the pur- poses of God are revealed by history in which the free will of man intervenes, a fortiori they are revealed by the history of the irrational creation, which responds absolutely to His will. Every Theist, therefore, is logically compelled to affirm that God has evidently willed most service to man of all His earthly creatures. Thus a successively increasing purpose runs through the irrational creation up to him. All the lower creatures have ministered to him, and have as a fact pre- pared the way for his existence. Therefore, whatever ends they also serve, they exist especially for him. But, as the aim of the life of man is the exercise of right volition, the life of all lower creatures must have been ultimately directed to that same end. When, then, in the unfathomable abyss of past time, the first algoid film of vegetable substance coloured the water of some primeval pool, and when the most undifferentiated and nascent organisms first moved upon the surface of some dismal, silent morass, the true end of exist- ence of such lowly forms of incipient life was the fulfilment of the moral law, a fulfilment to be brought about after what seems an eternity to the imagination, but which reason can- not doubt to have been but in its due time and season. And now, before concluding, dare we ask yet one more question ? Why was this so ordained ? To ourselves, from the human standpoint, we see that the fulfilment of duty is a sufficient end for the life of each of us, and, convinced that The Meaning of Life 351 happiness and virtue must ultimately coincide, it is a fully satisfying end. But our mind seems, in speculating on the ultimate cause, to demand some further answer. Those who feel satisfied that they have a right to conclude analogically from the human to the Divine mind, may look within and see if it be possible to conceive some further motive under- lying even the moral law. Falteringly we may answer that but one conception seems capable of satisfying our minds, utterly inadequate as any idea of ours must necessarily be to respond to the inconceivable reality. That one conception, the conception which seems to take us even deeper into God's essence than the conception of ' right,' is the correlated con- ception expressed by the sublimest and noblest of all words ' Love.' The meaning of life, which it has thus been sought to extract from the combined interrogations of consciousness and consideration of natural phenomena, has given occasion to the enunciation of various maxims and principles, some of which have probably struck the reader as altogether abstract and devoid of practical utility. But the writer has purposely deferred the consideration of circumstances and limitations which must necessarily be entered upon in considering human life in the concrete. Here causes and principles have alone occupied us, but this is because the subject is to be completed in another essay devoted to the consideration, not of the aim and meaning of life, but of its ordering and government. THE GOVERNMENT OF LIFE. TN the preceding essay an inquiry was tentatively entered -- into as to the meaning of life, especially of human life, both social and individual. Therein the conclusion seemed unavoidable that the true purpose of life was to serve as ' an arena for the exercise of free volition,' the ful- filment of duty being the proper end and aim of both in- dividual and social existence. In the course of the inquiry, certain subordinate principles were arrived at relating both to the duties of individuals and governments and respecting the relations of ' Church ' and ' State.' These it is proposed here to pass in review, in order to see what, if any, more definite rules may be thence deduced for conduct i.e. for the govern- ment of individuals and of communities. It may perhaps be objected in limine : ' You have con- sidered man and his social relations in the abstract, not in the concrete ; you have had to do with so many puppets, not with men and women. Even if you were right in what you before said, you will certainly be wrong as to any positive rules and maxims you may deduce from a set of abstract speculations suitable perhaps to wear away an idle hour, but of no prac- tical use to anybody whatever. As men really live and move, it is but an infinitesimal portion of them that will even under- stand, still less appreciate, the ideas you enunciate. Living men are really dominated mainly by their material wants, and too generally by their lower emotions. Beware, whatever you do, of attempting to construct an ideal community of abstractions, and thence deducing rules for the action of real The Government of Life 353 communities. To do so would be to act like Rousseau and the well and ill-meaning dreamers of the eighteenth century, the survivors of whom were rudely awakened to behold the dis- solution of a great commonwealth in blood and mire. At no time were individuals isolated ; they have always existed as constituents of some social organism which has done far more to make them, than they have done to constitute it. The social unit was at first " the tribe " ; even " the family " seems to have been a later formation. That the teaching coining from such a source as you have chosen will be pernicious is probable ; that it will be thoroughly unreasonable is certain.' This objection would be unanswerable had the present writer any pretension to draw out rules for actual conduct from abstract principles without regard to the many limitations which circumstances render necessary in the concrete. The intention of paying due regard to such limitations and circum- stances, was announced at the close of the preceding essay, and special attention will be here directed to bearing them in view. Not that the author ventures to hope that he can take any- thing like a complete view of their number, or form an adequate estimate of their importance; he ventures but to throw out a few suggestions which have appeared to him and to some of his friends likely to be useful, especially for con- ciliating opponents who mistake each other for foes, when they really differ only because they respectively see but opposite sides of the same shield. As to the criticism of the supposed objector based on his estimate of his fellow-men's intellectual powers and moral tendencies, together with their barbarous past and want of individuality, it may be replied as follows: 'Men, as they exist with all their faults, are, after all, animals with at least latent moral perceptions and emotions, and volitional power ; they can apprehend more or less distinctly, however imper- fectly, the useful, the beautiful, and the good, and for the VOL. i. z 354 The Government of Life most part they are more or less, knowingly or unknowingly, religious. Whatever was the physical origin of man, such is his nature now, a nature capable of progressively appreciating his position, his rights, his duties. It may be that all our ancestors were once in a very degraded state ; but the indi- vidual man, however degraded as it is he alone who thinks and feels must be considered as being, and having ever been, the real social unit a unit, however, of which the tribal or family " state " may have made, and probably did make, small account. Probably also at no time and nowhere have indi- viduals failed to form a " state " of some definite kind, large or small; and existing nations, their laws and customs, have doubtless been derived through diverse sources from rude origins. To seek then violently to change the laws and customs of communities (the masses of which have too often the passions of men with the intellects of children) in obedience to an arbitrary, absolute ideal, would be even more a blunder than a crime/ But all this is no bar to advocating political ideals in pages addressed to the cultured few, nor does it forbid the attempt to satisfy that desire to justify the ways of man to man which every rational mind must feel as it de- velops. Moreover, each day advances the movement which transforms the process of civilisation from an unconscious evolution to a fully self-conscious and deliberate development. It is true that vast follies and terrible crimes have been com- mitted in seeking to realise abstract political ideals drawn from within, without due regard to circumstances of time and place. But that is no reason for erecting empiricism itself into an ideal. Let us at least try to be rational. God has given us our reason as the test and measure of all that comes within the range of our experience and of much that tran- scends it. However expedient it may be to acquiesce in the continued existence of the less good, for the sake of not The Government of Life 355 destroying in embryo a greater good, let us not regard that acquiescence as if it were a thing to take pride in. If a teach- ing drawn from principles may be pernicious, certainly that drawn from the mere chapter of accidents with avowed dis- regard of principles must be yet more so. It is true enough, as we shall see later on, that we cannot draw from abstract considerations, hard and fast absolute lines to anticipate and guide human concrete actions in all cases ; but if we are hindered from laying down such absolute rules, we may none the less keep before us certain salutary ideals which may help us to hold fast to the dictates of developed reason. As in the former essay, so here, we may divide the subject into three heads, with reference respectively to (1) the indi- vidual, (2) the community, and (3) the race. As to the meaning of life for the individual, we concluded before that it might be taken to be a series of opportunities for exercising right volition our pains and pleasures supply- ing us with continually recurring occasions for the exercise of our power of choice according to the dictates of con- science, and strengthening us morally by the exercise of self-denial. Self-culture, physical, intellectual, and aesthetic, as well as (but in due subordination to) moral improvement, was also recognised as one form of duty, the cultivation of each such perfection being limited only at that point where its further development would occasion moral retrogression. And though reason tells us that it is right for the individual to cultivate all these lesser goods according to their relative degrees of value, at the same time it is plain that it may often be a better thing for this or that individual to neglect such minor good, lest its culture should lead to the neglect of greater good. Thus it may be that to this or that young man or woman a diminished care of physical beauty may be a con- 356 The Government of Life dition of greater advance even intellectually and a fortiori morally. Again, a good housewife with small means and a large family may be bound in conscience to sacrifice an .esthetic advance in painting or music for her domestic duties. Similarly her husband may have a strong inclination to intel- lectual culture, but would seriously deteriorate in virtue if he gratified that inclination by devoting to it time which the needs of his family required him to devote to some bread- winning drudgery. Doubtless many a noble mind, with intel- lectual aspirations and powers which circumstances repress, dutifully spends days shovelling coals into a furnace, or in the monotonous toil of some factory, a spectacle for angelic eyes far grander than any that could be afforded by a world- renowned intellectual triumph and social elevation, accom- plished at the sacrifice of some unobtrusive duty. But, apart from such moral neglect, it is evidently not only right for the individual to cultivate himself, but reason tells us that it is a minor duty to aid in the cultivation and improvement, in lesser matters, of the world as he finds it, He has not merely to do good morally to his fellow-men, which is, of course, a major duty, but also to seek the pro- motion of truth, harmony, and beauty, as far as may be, in every sphere and in all directions, in the beautiful world com- mitted by its Creator to our rule and government. Thus every science and every fine art can be legitimately cultivated from mere inclination, when no higher duty intervenes to forbid it scientific knowledge and artistic excellence, the promotion of truth and the development of beauty, being each a good in itself absolutely. But the scientific man and the artist may follow their pursuits from a higher motive namely, from the belief that they oijught to follow them, and from the perception that they in fact are absolute ' goods ' in themselves, and lawfully to be followed for their own sake. A higher motive still may, how- The Government of Life 357 ever, intervene, that of benevolence; such pursuits may be followed from goodwill to our fellow-men, and from a desire to benefit them intellectually or aesthetically by devoting to their service such scientific or aesthetic aptitudes as we may possess. A yet higher motive may be followed, if we believe (as we most reasonably may) that such culture may result in some ethical gain to the world, for they may then be cultivated as a means direct or indirect towards the increase of virtue ; and a still higher end than even this may also actuate us, as will be shown later. In the preceding essay intellectual culture was represented as a duty, and also as a necessary means for enabling us to understand better our moral obligations through the percep- tion thence to be derived of our true relations towards other beings. As to living impersonal creatures, we concluded that ' they might justly be treated as mere instruments and slaves, yet not altogether without reverence or without consideration for the feelings of such as are sentient if unintelligent.' It is manifest that such reverence is quite incompatible with the reckless cruelty towards animals practised in the south oi Europe, or with a too unscrupulous advocacy of vivisection made use of by some of its foreign defenders. It is evi- dent also that the tenderness towards animals which is one of the most recent developments of civilisation, is in itself a legiti- mate development. But this conclusion none the less justifies the infliction of death and any amount of pain which human welfare really makes it needful for us regretfully to give to animals, when every care has been taken scrupulously to minimise it. Moreover, the gulf recognised as existing between personal and impersonal animals tends to show that, desirable as mercifulness to the beast is for the beast's own sake, it is indefinitely more desirable for the sake of the person who directly or indirectly may be deteriorated morally by its even 358 The Government of Life involuntary neglect, and still more by its wanton abandonment and outrage. As to ' persons,' we saw that ' from the ethical standpoint,' ' whatever their position, they all have the same one great end set before them, and their life has the same objective value.' The life of each one is an end in itself, and no one can be justly used by another as a mere ' means.' The rights of each must therefore limit the rights of all, and be limited by the rights of every other. We also saw the ' priceless value ' of human life as the one indispensable condition for the perform- ance of that which we found to be the ultimate end of all organic life, irrational as well as rational namely, the exer- cise of volition in accordance with the dictates of reason judging as to what is right. And, indeed, the supreme sacredness of human life comes out with special plainness when compared with the life of beings whose existence is but a means, and may therefore be sacrificed without scruple to our needs. Human life, as the life of a being whose moral nature makes its existence an end in itself, is of incomprehensible, of infinite, significance. From this point of view, it is plain how grossly and griev- ously those err who would urge the destruction of deformed or unhealthy children, or who would sanction euthanasia and the painless extinction of the aged and hopelessly sick. Those who would do so would pervert the whole aim and object of human life, and would place physical welfare and the cessation of physical suffering above moral good; they would deem the good actions of the unhealthy and the deformed, of less moment than their physical defects, and the pains of the aged and the hopelessly sick, of greater account than their virtuous volitions. Similarly condemned are those who would advocate or sanction the voluntary limitation of conjugal fecundity. The painful life of struggle, which parents of large families may have to go through, is not for a moment The Government of Life 359 to be denied or ignored ; but, apart even from the many con- solations which may be fairly expected to attend it, the moral gain of such a self-denying career, is out of comparison with any physical, intellectual, or aesthetic losses which may attend it. So also as regards the children themselves, it is neither to be denied nor ignored that less health and strength, less knowledge and less culture, may be the lot of a large family as compared with a small one ; but apart again from the many consolations and supports of fraternal affection, the moral gain of the generous self-denial and mutual sacrifice between the brothers and sisters of a large and painfully struggling, but virtuous, family, is out of all comparison with the lower benefits which may accompany its diminution in number. The next relation which was before considered, was that borne by each man to God ; and not only the inexpressible supremacy of the duty thence arising was recognised, but also the impossibility of any real conflict taking place between our duty to man and to ' a God of whom morality is not the creature but the essence,' His ' religion ' being necessarily the acme of morality. The reflected sanctity which the idea of God throws upon human life needs no more than mention, and the sanction thence to be derived for self-culture in all its forms is manifest. Herein is to be found that highest motive, lately spoken of, for the cultivation of art and science, namely, their cultivation for God's sake. The artist and the scientific man may recognise them gratefully as His gift, as also their own mission to cultivate them as one imposed upon them by Him who has given them their appropriate faculties, and placed them in circumstances permitting their lawful exercise. Thus the sciences, from philosophy and theology to botany and mineralogy, may be cultivated from all and every good motive combined. Art may adorn the world with edifices which, however humble, may be beautiful, because harmoniously fitted to their end, as also with stately and 360 The Government of Life graceful fanes, wherein the eye may be gladdened and the imagination enriched with the triumphs of sculpture and of painting, while the ear is entranced and the mind elevated by the wondrous outpourings and soul-stirring messages from the world of sound in musical harmony. Such products of human intellect and feeling are at their best when they spring from the orderly combination of all good motives, from reverence for each art and science in itself, from goodwill to man, from the desire for moral good, and above all from reverence for their Divine Source and Fountain ; and they are inexpressibly most fitly used when they are employed for His service and worship. Another consideration may here have a passing word assigned to it. We have seen before how all lower goods are properly to be sacrificed to moral good, and we see now how the need for and the merit of such self-denial are both enhanced by the idea of God. We have seen also how the voluntary sacrifice of pleasure is valuable as a test of human love, and may be eagerly sought for by him who practises it as the best expression of the devotion he feels to another. If this applies to our love for our fellow-man, how much more to our love for God a God in whom all our highest ideals are realised, of whom all we can conceive of goodness and of beauty can serve but as the faintest and most distant adumbration. If in His service we are permitted to undergo humiliation, pain, and suffering, who that understands the Theistic con- ception does not see that we ought to welcome such humilia- tion and suffering ? If, in pursuit of all that brings us nearer to Him, we can justly, gratefully, and lovingly deny ourselves lower pleasures which tend to impede or slacken us in such pursuit what Theist can doubt but that he ought to spurn such pleasures with boundless gratitude to God for being granted the opportunity of so spurning them ? The Government of Life 361 The principle of asceticism is implanted as deeply in human nature as is the perception of virtue or the feeling of love, and wherever both these faculties abound and flourish, asceticism will exist in practice, now carefully hidden by humility from the world, now happily manifest, and teaching us by its example. Our relation to God being borne in mind as well as our relations to our fellow-creatures, it becomes evident how true was our previous conclusion ' that no possible circumstances can deprive us of our end, or divert us from it ' that ' nothing can make life aimless or useless to us.' Whatever may be man's lot, life, while only obedient to duty, has a dignity and a worth which cannot be over-estimated. It is never without a full meaning, never without an adequate ami, never without utility or deprived of a sphere of meri- torious action. Let a man lie paralysed, and blind, and deaf and dumb, he can yet unite his will in submission to his Maker's, and abound in mental acts of goodwill towards, and intercession for, his fellow-men. He can perform a multitude of acts, any one of which outweighs immeasurably the worth of the greatest mechanical invention or the most brilliant scientific discovery ever made. Thus the real end, the true signification, of life, the essence of the highest speculation and the deepest philosophy, is as truly, as tersely, expressed in what the Christian child is taught at the very commencement of his catechism. 1 We may now leave the practical deductions from our previous speculations as to the meaning of individual life, and turn to those which concern the life of the community. The meaning of that life was previously declared to be, ' first 1 'Question. Why did God make you? Answer. To know Him, love Him, and serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him for ever in the next.' It should be borne in mind, in considering this answer, that here