[No. 8. THE
HOME AND FOREIGN
REVIEW.
SEU VETUS EST VERUM DILIGO 81VE NOVUM.
APRIL 1864.
WILLIAMS AND NORGATE,
J4 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON, AND 20 SOUTH FREDERICK STREET, EDINBURGH.
Price Six Shillings.
THE
HOME AND FOEEIGN EEVIEW.
APRIL 1864.
THE IRISH EXODUS AND TENANT RIGHT.
After nearly ten years of comparative quiet and prosperitj^, Ireland has once more obtained an unfortunate prominence, and has received of late almost as much attention, and quite as much and as varied advice, as in the days of Catholic Emanci- pation or of the potato blight. The whole press of this country has been occupied with her affairs. The statistical reports bear- ing on her agriculture and mineral wealth, her manufactures, her trade, her poor-law system, her bank deposits, her emigra- tion returns, her railway investments, her general taxation, actual and comparative, — all have been sifted and analysed by lectui-ers and pamphleteers, to support pet theories or serve the purposes of party. From Arthur Young and Wakefield down to Perraud and Lasteyrie, the writers, both French and English, who have treated of Ireland have been studied with almost unexampled attention. Men the most dissimilar — Mr. Maguire and Mr. Whiteside — have in two successive years pressed the subject of her distress and decline on the considera- tion of Parliament at the very beginning of the session. Whilst her tried and trusted friends have proclaimed her sufferings, those who represent the hereditary foes of her Catholic people now profess to deplore the tide that carries, them from her shores. The fact of her recent retrogression is so universally admitted that even the hopeful Chief Secretary has ceased to ignore or deny it.
The present social condition of Ireland is indeed one that furnishes food for very serious and very painful reflection. The distress which existed in many parts of the south and west dur-
voL. IV. a a
340 The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right,
ing the winter of 1861-62 has been aggravated by a third defi- cient harvest, and has extended to parts of the country hitherto comparative^ prosperous. Along with the recurrence of ex- treme destitution, there have been many instances of agrarian outrage, often attended with circumstances of more than usual atrocity. The diminution, too, of the agricultural wealth of the country — which, whatever efforts may have been made to conceal or explain it, is an ascertained fact — is a sjonptom of decay that has aroused the fears of the timid, and called forth forebodings of ruin, natural perhaps, but needlessly gloomy. Finally, the alarming impetus given by an aggregation of social causes to the movement now so generally known as the Irish Exodus, has not only excited the feelings of the "friends of the people,'' but absolutely frightened some of the very exterminators of 1848 into expressions of alarm lest the land should become a waste from want of hands to till it. Not the least remarkable part of this change of tone is to be noticed in the way in which the most anti- Irish portion of the English press has lately learned to treat the subject. Those who once thought it an excellent thing that the Celts were gone — gone with a vengeance ! — now tell us that their departure must, on all principles of social and political philosophy, be considered a misfortune. The Solicitor- General for Ireland indeed, in an able speech lately delivered in Dublin, declared his belief that the stream of emigration must continue to flow for years yet to come ; and Professor Ingram, whose late address to the Statistical Society of Ireland has been frequently quoted, neither rejoices nor grieves at it, but rests satisfied with endeavouring to account for the exodus on strictly economic principles. Among the national and Catholic party in Ireland, the continuous emigration is looked on as an unmitigated evil. The Bishops in their addresses to their clergy, the clergy in their discourses to the people, all agree in this. The Attorney-Greneral for Ireland lately declared in the House of Commons that " he stood appalled before the gigantic emigra- tion in progress from her shores." There is, moreover, a con- siderable party in Ireland, adequately represented in the press, which, for the last three years, has been at issue with those who direct Irish affairs about the reality of the asserted dimi- nution of Irish prosperity. Though sincerely grieved at the manifest retrogression, it nevertheless sees in that circumstance 80 tempting a weapon to turn against the " prosperity-mongers" that it cannot resist making the most of it. Every additional cipher in the decrease column of Sir William Donelly's Statis- tical Reports is a fresh damper for viceregal congratulations. Every emigrant who sails from the port of Galway is another living argument against Saxon misrule. This pai*ty deplores in
The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right, 341
all sincerity the decay of the national wealth. It grieves for the departure of the bone and sinew from the land ; but in the press or on the platform these things furnish telling points against the powers that be. Highly-seasoned language, written or spoken, is acceptable to the majority of Irishmen. Applause is more certainly awarded to vigour than to accuracy ; and the result is that important facts are occasionally distorted, and that not unfrequently the changes are rung on desolation, oppres- sion, and ruin, in a tone that sounds positively exultant. It was a favourite expression of O'Connell's, that England's weak- ness is Ireland's opportunity. The dictum, however, seems to have been changed of late ; and it is Ireland's weakness that is now supposed to be Ireland's opportunity. Now in this, as in most cases where strong party feelings and prejudices are aroused, the truth will be found about half-way between the statements of the opposing parties. The late Dr. Whately ad- vised a newly-arrived English official never to sit on either the right side or the left of an Irish car, but to place himself in the driver's seat, and so see both sides.
The question of emigration has become so mixed up with the kindred one concerning small farms, and their consolidation into larger ones, that it is difficult to treat the two apart. While, on the one hand, the population in Ireland has been steadily dimi- nishing, on the other, the average size of the farms has been as steadily on the increase. It is not to be wondered at that the one fact should have been represented as the consequence of the other ; such doubtless has been partially the case, but not to the extent that some persons have supposed. Eviction being the chief means by which the size of farms has been increased, there should, if the emigration were to be accounted for by the consoli- dation of farms, be some approximation towards a correspond- ence between the statistical returns of eviction and of emigration. But if we compare the return of evictions for the ten years end- ing with 1862 with the number of persons permanently leaving Ireland during the same period, we find of the former 12,351 cases, numbering 59,187 persons, while the total number of those emigrating during the same period was 963,167, or about 16 emigrants for every person evicted. Again, the same returns show^ a proportionate disparity between the diminution in the number of farms (whether caused by eviction or otherwise) and the diminution in the general population of the country. In the twenty years ending with 1862, the period during which the consolidation of farms was most rapid, the number of hold- ings in Ireland diminished by about 120,000. Now, if we allow an average of 4| persons to each holder's family, we shall have but 540,000 persons dependent on those evicted from or giving up
342 The Irish Exodus and Tenant liiyht.
land during a period in whicli the population of Ireland dimi- nished by nearly 2,400,000. These figures seem to prove very clearly that the largest proportion of those whose emigration can be even indirectly traced to their having, either voluntarily or under compulsion, given up their land in Ireland is, roughly speaking, as one to four. But if we leave statistics aside for the moment, and found our observations on the personal experience of those well acquainted with the emigration movement, we shall find that the great majority of emigrants who leave Ireland for America, or for the manufacturing districts of England or Scot- land, consists of unmarried men and women — the junior mem- bers of small farmers' and cottiers' families, who are unable to find remunerative employment at home, and set out to seek it in other countries.
Before the potato failure, almost every farmer holding from ten to thirty acres of land sought to make provision for his sons by a partition of his farm. When the eldest son married, he was settled on a corner of the father's farm, a house with a shed or pigsty attached being built for the reception of his bride ; and when the second and third son married, each got a similar slice. This destructive practice was too frequently permitted by the landlords ; sometimes from avarice, sometimes to increase political influence, sometimes from a mistaken goodnature, but most frequently from simple carelessness in the management of their estates. Those were the days when "the Irish peasant spent half his time in hiding potatoes, and the other half in find- ing them." Often paying an exorbitant rent for the doubtful privilege of being allowed to settle on the subdivision of an already small holding, and living habitually in a very miserable manner, yet, as long as the potato flourished, this class of people existed and even multiplied. But when the potato failed they were left utterly destitute. The fearful ordeal through which Ireland passed during 1846-48 is known to every Irishman. One of its results was, that the subdivision of farms was no longer permitted. The losses sufiered by the owners of densely peopled estates during • the famine frightened the landlords into the opposite extreme ; and the system of consolidation became uni- versal. The process was in too many instances efiected by barbarous means : in the majority of cases, however, and espe- cially where it is still continued, it is generally carried out by the more legitimate course of adding to the adjoining holdings any small farm that may become vacant. If, in consequence of nonpayment of rent, a landlord be obliged to take possession of a five-acre holding, and if he be firmly persuaded that the late tenant's failure arose from the mere fact that the land he held was insufficient, in any but the most prosperous seasons, to
The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right, 343
support a family, much, less to produce any rent, it would be folly to expect, or even to wish, the owner, when once free to dispose of those five acres, to re-let them as an independent holding. If he did so, he would directly injure himself without conferring any real benefit either on the person taking the farm or on the country at large. But when we reflect that in 1861 there were still in Ireland 125,549 holdings of less than five acres, and 309,480 of less than fifteen acres, out of a total of 608,564, the continued inclination to consolidate, more especially when consolidation is generally accompanied by a decrease of tillage, becomes a matter of very serious moment. Still more important is it when we find those invested with high authority perpetually insisting on the peculiar capabilities of Ireland for the production of beef and mutton, and its unfitness for corn. Such teachings have been understood by many to mean that tillage, by whicb the poor man lives, should decrease, and that grazing should be more generally adopted. We cannot say whether these phrases were or were not meant to be so construed. That they were susceptible of an interpretation not necessarily adverse to tillage, we are well aware ; and if that meaning had been made more distinctly clear, we conceive that the advice to depend on producing meat rather than corn would have been extremely valuable.^ But to declare that the future destiny of Ireland is to be a prairie almost without inhabitants, but a fruitful mother of flocks and herds, shows indifierent states- manship, and a very bad idea of farming. One of the many facts connected with Irish agricultural statistics, which have been in some quarters regarded as anomalous, is that, while the area under grass has increased, the numbers of sheep and cattle in the country have diminished. There is nothing surprising in this circumstance. It is now no longer a matter admitting of dispute, that a larger number of stock can be maintained on a w^ell-managed farm where a system of mixed husbandry is pur- sued than on a mere grazing-farm. Not only has this been over and over again proved in the high-farming districts of England and Scotland, but the statistical returns of Ireland — where high farming is certainly not the rule — show us the same thing. In a very suggestive letter which lately appeared in the Irish Farmers Gazette,- a comparison is drawn between the
' There is no doubt that the old " potatoes-and-oats," the "bog-mould for manure and scratching for ploughing," system of farming -will not do for the future. There is no country in Europe where green crops can be more success- fully grown, and none where corn is more precarious, than in Ireland ; and any Irish farmer who will not make up his mind to "walk all his produce to market" can no longer expect to compete with his British or Continental brother.
2 Letter from Major O'Reilly, M.!*., to the Irish Farmer's Gazette, Jan. 30. 1861, p. 47.
344 The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right.
amount of stock maintained in a certain number of Irisli counties where tillage prevails, and in an equal number, including some of the richest land in Ireland, where there is a preponderance of grass-land. The result of this comparison clearly shows that those tillage counties maintain 34 per c'ent more sheep and cattle to each acre of grass than the grazing counties do. There is, moreover, a large proportion of the land in Ireland which is naturally unfitted for permanent pasturage; and, while we are not disposed to deny that there are thousands of acres in several counties into which " it would be a sin to put a plough," we are satisfied that there is a still larger number now in grass, which, judiciously and generous^ tilled, could be made to fatten ten sheep for every one that they half-starve at present. The consolidation of farms, therefore, may be carried a great deal too far ; and while there is little hope that the mere cottier farmer (when dependent solely on his few acres for support) will be able to hold his ground in competition with the accumulating capital, science, and intelligence year by year applied to modern agricul- ture, yet we should much regret to see Ireland parcelled out into farms of 300 and 400 acres, as England generally now is. Irish farmers holding from twenty to forty acres, and with suf- ficient skill and capital to make the most of them, have been able to meet their engagements even during the three very trying years lately passed. And, as we may reasonably hope that Ireland will not be visited by any succession of worse or more trying seasons than these have been, we may also trust that farmers of that calibre will in the future be able, not merely to hold their heads above water, but to strike out towards in- dependent wealth as boldly as they had begun to do during the five favourable seasons immediately preceding the year 1859.
There is one point in connection with the emigration move- ment which should be noticed, in order to dispel a very erroneous impression which the tone of certain journals has done much to create, viz. that there is a feeling of despair amongst the agri- cultural class in Ireland, and that the farmers have given up, or are giving up, their land, to go to America. Speaking from trustworthy information derived from various parts of Ireland, we must deny this to be the case ; and we very much doubt if in the whole of Ireland twenty instances could be found where the tenant of either a large or a small farm, who has paid his last half-year's rent and is able to pay the next, has voluntarily resigned his land in order to emigrate.
Statistics clearly show that, however the number of inhabi- tants may have diminished in Ireland within the last seven- teen years, the agricultural population is still much in excess
The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right, 345
of tlie agricultural population of either England or Scotland f and bearing this in mind, we cannot avoid the painful con- clusion that, if the people of Ireland be destined to remain as exclusively as now dependent on the land for their support, there is no reasonable expectation of any rapid decrease, much less of a cessation, of the emigration."* Plappily , however, not in the south alone, but in Leinster and parts of Connaught as well, the flax movement seems to have taken a decided hold of the public mind. Strenuous and well-directed efforts are being made to reestablish the linen manufacture in Ireland ; and if these prove successful in producing remunerative employment for a large number of hands, not only in the sowing and saving of the crop, but also in the various stages of its subsequent manu- facture, a great step will have been taken towards checking the present wide-spread desire of the unemployed to emigrate.
The removal of the prohibitory duty on Irish-grown tobacco, and the consequent encouragement of the cultivation of that plant, for which the climate of Ireland is said to be peculiarly suitable, is one of the many schemes proposed by those anxious to develope the industrial resources of the country. Any thing which will tend to improve the system of agriculture, or to cre- ate remunerative occupation for the unemployed in manufactures or works unconnected with the land, will be a great boon, and may tend to check the emigration by helping to make Ireland as good to live in as those countries are to which Irishmen at present fly from the compulsory idleness, poverty, and discontent which they see around them at home.
So far we have looked at the present condition of Ireland merely from a social as distinct from a political point of view. We shall now advert to some of those questions in which indi- vidual Irishmen cannot act entirely for themselves, and where the interference of the legislature may be required. Conflict- ing as are the theories that have been propounded on the Irish questions to which we have already referred, still more so are those put forth in regard to political affairs. All the evils, however, for which these theories prescribe may be ultimately traced to one of two sources — social or religious discord. At the root of the former is the land-question, with its train of eviction, emigration, agitation, and agrarian outrage. At the root of the latter is the Established Church of Ireland, an inde- fensible anomaly, among the evils emanating from which have
•^ Irish Emigration considered. By M. J. Barry, Esq., barrister- at-law. pp. 9-11.
^ The average annual preponderance of births orer deaths in Ireland is about 60,000 ; so that, in the absence of any other disturbing causes, a yearly emigra- tion to nearly that extent would not have the effect of making the population less than it now is.
346 The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right.
been murders, jealousies, heartburnings, class animosities, the setting of the poor against the rich and of the rich against the poor — that chronic discontent and bitterness of feeling which make the case of Ireland peculiarly hard to deal with, and which must ever be the certain sequel of perpetuated injustice.
The Times has told us — and it expresses an opinion held by many — that the chief bar to the prosperity of Ireland is agrarian crime. The reasoning by which this conclusion is reached is simple : Ireland requires capital to develope her resources ; capitalists will not speculate where life and property are inse- cure ; in Ireland the needful security does not exist. There is no doubt that about two years ago the friends of Ireland were startled from a pleasant dream of hopefulness and security by an unexpected outburst of agrarian crime. Tipperary, which in 1861 had seen the novel sight of a maiden assizes, was visited in 1862 by a special commission. Several murders and outrages of a more than usually atrocious description were com- mitted in succession in the south of Ireland ; and in the majority of instances the guilty escaped. This difficult}^ of bringing crime home to its perpetrators has ever been, and still is, one of the most disheartening features of Irish agrarian crime. In very rare instances can evidence be procured, even where there is, amongst persons individually unconnected with the outrage, an undoubted knowledge of its details. By some this is at- tributed to a sympathy with the criminal, if not to a positive approval of his crime ; by others it is attributed merely to a fear of the consequences of denouncing the murderer. Be the cause what it may, it is a lamentable fact that a murderous out- rage may be committed on the public road ; that two, three, perhaps a dozen persons, totally unconnected with either the assailants or their victim, may witness it ; and yet that from not one of those persons can a word of evidence be extorted. The temptation of the large rewards offered by Government even for private information seems equally powerless with the nobler motives that would lead most men instinctively to lay hands upon a murderer. This is a state of things so fraught with evil to Ireland, that it behoves all those who have her interest and that of civilisation at heart to look it boldjy in the face.
There can be no doubt that the prime cause of almost all Irish crime is the land question. Men of all parties admit this to be the case. The very name by which this species of crime is usually known denotes the general belief as to its origin. In the House of Commons, the murders to which we have just referred were directly attributed to the state of the laws regard- ing land. Although the taste and feeling of those who ex- pressed this opinion were animadverted on severely by other
The Irish Exodus and lenant RighU 347
members of the House, no one was bold enougli to deny its truth. When the Catholic Bishops, in their address to the people of Ireland, which appeared about the same time, de- plored and denounced the fearful spread of murder and outrage in the south, they felt bound simultaneously to declare their conviction as to the ever-fertile source from which these mur- ders and outrages proceeded. This declaration of the Catholic hierarchy, like most other documents of the kind, found many severe critics in the English and the Irish press. It was pre- tended that, by bringing forward so prominently the defects of those laws to which, by their showing, agrarian crime was directly attributable, the Bishops were practically justifying the very crimes they professed to denounce. In the severest, however, of these or similar strictures on the episcopal address, there was never any attempt made to deny the truth of the assertion it contained. We may fairlj^, therefore, assume as granted that the prime cause of Irish agrarian crime is the con- dition of the laws respecting land. At any rate, we may assume, without fear of contradiction, that to the unsettled and irritable state of popular feeling, which, partly with reason, partly with- out reason, the public discussion with regard to these laws has created, may be ultimately traced that periodically recurring series of crimes which is not only a crying disgrace to Ireland, but among the greatest of her many social misfortunes.
If the root of agrarian crime in Ireland is to be found in the existing relations between landlord and tenant, a close and impartial investigation of these relations becomes an indispens- able step in the direction we have proposed to follow. Here, indeed, a wide field of enquiry lies open before us ; a field worn somewhat bare by the feet of many an anxious searcher after truth — marked also by the footsteps of some less anxious to find truth than to misrepresent it ; a field, unfortunately, the chief product of which has hitherto been a fruit resembling closely in its principal attribute the classical apple of discord. We shall have to examine again the almost threadbare subject of tenant right, which has been loudly demanded as a measure of simple justice, and loudly denounced as a measure of con- fiscation— the food of one, and the poison of others ; the safe- guard from revolution, and the victory of communism; the bugbear of the aristocrat, and the panacea of the demagogue. No subject of political discussion has been praised and abused with a greater amount of exaggeration. Whether the fault be chiefiy on the side of the landlords or on that of the tenants, it is undoubtedly a fact that the relations existing between these two classes in Ireland are not such as might be wished. This antagonism has probably grown out of a
348 Tke Irish Exodus and Tenant Right,
long continuance of favouritism on the part of the ruling powers towards one class at the expense of the other. While the land-owners of past generations were permitted, if not en- couraged, to treat the land-holders with grinding injustice, and while the peasant felt that from the law of the land as then administered he had no hope of redress, it was evident that there would he no limit to the extortions and tyranny of the one, except such as might be raised by the lawless resistance of the other. The difference also of religion between the gentry and the peasantry must not be overlooked as having been a material agent in creating and fostering the growth of this social animosity. The laws which favoured the upper at the expense of the lower orders had been for the most part framed to uphold Protestantism and to uproot Popery. The very fact of the upper and the lower orders holding two different reli- gious beliefs — the one fostered, the other persecuted, by the Government — was an element of antagonism peculiar to Ire- land. With exceptions scarcely more numerous than sufficed to prove the rule, the landlords were, if not sworn Orangemen, at least strong Protestants — in other words, good haters of Popery and Papists. The local administration of a one-sided code of laws was exclusively entrusted to the very party to promote whose ascendancy these laws had been specially en- acted. The inevitable consequence was that the peasant, to whom the law had never been any thing but an instrument of oppression, to whom the administrators of the law had been ever unsparing, if sometimes venal, tyrants, grew to look on the laws themselves, on the rulers who made them, and on the gentry who put them in force, as being all alike the undying enemies of his social as well as of his religious welfare.
The Catholic gentry in Ireland were numerically so insigni- ficant a body as to be of little account in the social scheme. Small as were their numbers, their influence in the state was hardly in proportion even to their numerical strength. Confis- cation and persecution had not only thinned their ranks, but had almost entirely broken their spirit. They had for genera- tions suffered so much for their faith, that to be allowed to retain that faith in peace, along with the small remnants of their ancestral estates, was too often the moderate limit of their ambition. Kneeling before the same altar at which the peo- ple worshipped, the Poman Catholic gentleman was bound to his peasant neighbours by the strong link of a common reli- gious belief. One element, therefore, of the animosity that existed between the gentry and the people, was absent in the case of the Catholic squire. But persecution and insecurity
The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right. 349
may have made him needy ; need may have made him exacting. In the eyes of his half-starving tenantry, he too may have some- times seemed to be a tyrant. To the evicted peasant it was as certain destruction to be turned out of his wretched cabin and to be deprived of his few half-tilled acres by a Catholic landlord, as though the notice to quit bore the name of the most Papist- hating -of Orangemen. The popular good- will that the squire had gained by the fact of his being a Catholic was frequently out- weighed by that of his being a landlord as well. It was plain, then, that when the Irish people wanted leaders, they would be little likely to seek, and less likely to find them amongst the gentry of their own faith. When, therefore, the time had at length arrived for the people to make an effort for freedom, to whom were they to look for the guidance that, in a constitu- tional struggle like the one in which they were about to engage, must be sought in a class of men of higher intelligence and education than their own ? It was evident that in the Catholic clergy alone the popular movement could find leaders both willing to accept and competent to fill the position. The con- nections and sympathies of the Irish priesthood were almost exclusively with the middle and lower orders. The bad govern- ment of Ireland, the injustice of the religious distinctions main- tained in that country, the anti-Popery persecution inflicted for generations on its inhabitants, had fallen with more severity on the ministers of the persecuted faith than on any other class. In the days of the fiercest persecution the priest had ever stood by his flock. When the dying peasant sought the consolations of religion, the priest was ever ready to visit him, and to brave the dangers, and defy the penalties, with which he was threatened by the law if he dared to do his duty. As the priests lived for the people, so they lived by the people. How little soever an Irish peasant might possess, both his duty and his inclination made him happy in sharing that little with his priest. The common part they had so long borne in great dangers and in heavy sorrows had linked the bonds that bound the pastor to his flock more closely in Ireland than in other countries. When, early in the present century, persecution slowly relaxed its grasp, the clergy began little by little to take a share in the public affairs of the country. The bad feeling that existed between the upper and the lower orders was one that, for mis- taken purposes of their own, successive governments had never lost an opportunity of encouraging. There is always a large number of persons in the world whom it is easy to persuade that what is must be. Animosities of class against class had been of such long standing in Ireland, that they had grown to be, as it were, institutions of the country. The Catholic clergy.
350 The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right.
whose sympathy was altogether with the people, were of neces- sity often brought into public collision with the gentry. They and the gentry regarded every political, nay, almost every so- cial, question from an opposite point of view. On every subject their feelings, as well as their opinions, were different. It is an old observation, that tyranny tends to produce reciprocal hatred in the oppressor and the oppressed. The hatred of the tyrant for the slave, though it may arise from deeper and more secret springs of human nature, is as much the inevitable result of tyranny as that of the slave for the tyrant. In Ireland the gentry, as a body, had ever been ranged on the side of the oppressors, the Catholic clergy on that of the oppressed ; and neither party exhibited an exception to the general rule. It must not, however, be forgotten that amongst the Protestant nobility and gentr}^ of Ireland there were to be found many- humane, just, and truly patriotic men, who had long seen in- justice to the sufferers, as well as a bar to national prosperity, in the gross treatment to which their Catholic fellow-country- men had for generations been subjected. Unpopular as such views were amongst persons of their own order, these men were neither afraid nor ashamed to express an open sjonpathy with the Catholic party, and to cooperate actively with it, when the business of extorting emancipation from the Government was at length really taken up by the people themselves. Incal- culably useful, however, as the assistance of such men was in the struggle for freedom, and lasting as should be the recollec- tion of their services amongst those for whose sake they joined in fighting a most unpopular battle, we must nevertheless re- member that to the priests of Ireland, more than to any other class in the country, the credit is due of having achieved their own and their people's independence. The battle of emancipa- tion was a severe one ; it was fought by combatants whose hos- tility was of long standing ; and it was gained by that party to whom triumph was then a novelty. Viewing the event in its bearings on the political future of Ireland, one of its most re- markable features was the proof it gave of the enormous power of the people when combined in action under the guidance of their clergy, and with a just and desirable object to contend for. Popular power may have been abused in Ireland, as power of all kinds is ever liable to be abused. The influence of the Catholic priesthood may not on all occasions have been exerted in the manner and for the objects that a more prudent discre- tion and a farther-seeing policy would have recommended. But to err is human ; and in matters of political conduct no one lays claim to infallibility.
Ireland has been not unaptly described as a huge ano-
The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right, 351
maly. In considering her social state it is not always easy to distinguish effects from causes, or causes from effects. Religion and politics are so mixed up together that it is often diflB.cult to draw the line between them. To treat of Ireland as she is without allusion to what she has been, would be absurd. To omit, in discussing her condition, all mention of religion and of religious differences, would be to ignore the existence of the source from which her principal misfortunes have sprung. There can be no possible doubt that almost all the present mis- fortunes of Ireland can be traced to past misgovernment by England. We should, however, be unwilling to go the length of saying that the continued existence of some of these mis- fortunes is not attributable to the Irish themselves. It is sel- dom, if ever, that a great public evil or a great public disorgani- sation exists, without there being faults on more sides than one. We believe that this is now the case in Ireland. On what side soever the preponderance of the guilt may lie, all parties in the country — the government, the gentry, the parsons, the priests, and the people — must share the blame for its present social condition. Their fault, we suppose, consists chiefly in this, that in Ireland every man attributes, and unfortunately believes himself right in attributing, the existence of almost every social grievance that can be named to the agency of any other class in the community rather than of that to which he himself belongs. The gentry censure the ineradicable lawlessness of the people, backed and encouraged by what they consider the self-seeking democratic turbulence of the priesthood. The peasantry and small-farming class have a vague, indefinite idea that " it is all the fault of England," and that under a French despotism or an American republic things would not be as they are. The priests divide the blame between the exterminating, papist- hating landlords and the British Government of the day, irre- spectively of the party that may be in power ; and they cannot yet bring themselves to believe in the possibility of any of the acts of the English Government being done bond fide for the benefit of Ireland. The Protestant clergy, like the gentry, find a most useful scapegoat in their brethren of the rival religion , forget- ting that the very fact of their own existence as ministers of a Church maintained, in defiance of right and justice, as a state establishment for the sole benefit of a small minority, is a stand- ing wrong and insult to four-fifths of the population. As to England, her press, and her governments, we believe that in the present day their chief fault lies in querulously blaming the discontent and mistrust of the Irish priests and people, without making sufficient allowance for the causes that have given rise to those feelings ; and, above all, in persistently ignoring the
352 The Irish Exodics and Tenant Right,
patent fact — a fact that must sooner or later be recognised — that Ireland is in truth a Catholic country, and should be treated as such.
Like many other popular cries, that of "security for the tenant^'' has found its chief enemies amongst those who pro- fessed to be its warmest friends. We believe the literal and simply accurate definition of a tenant's right to be this, " that the permanent value which has been superadded to a farm by an outlay of the tenant's capital, skill, or labour, ought legally to be the tenant's property; and that, whether the tenant's tenure may have been by lease or at will, he ought to be entitled by law, at the expiration of that tenure, to re- cover from his landlord a just remuneration for the said out- lay." The late Mr. Sharman Crawford stated the principles of his tenant-right measure in the following words : " That all improvements of the soil, and all works of every description by means of which the annual or letting value or fee-interest of the premises shall be, or shall have been, increased, and which shall be, or shall have been, made at the cost or by the labour of the tenant, or purchased, or inherited by him from his predecessors, shall be taken to be the property of such tenant ; . . . . and that no person in occupation of land or premises, being tenant thereon, and having made improvements of the nature aforesaid, shall be evicted therefrom unless he shall first have received from his landlord, or from the incoming tenant, fair compensation for all labour and capital expended in improvements, of the nature hereinbefore stated, and which the law shall declare to be the property of the tenant." JSTo doubt the foregoing definitions fall far short of many of the claims for legislative interference that have, from time to time, and from various quarters, been urged on the tenant's behalf; but it would be difficult to prove that the claim as originally set up amounted to more than this. Moreover, almost every advocate of tenant right with whom we have discussed the question, when closely pressed as to what protection the legislature could be expected to give the tenant, has ended by narrowing to this compass opinions that may pos- sibly have started from a principle involving little less than communism.
Now, supposing the demand for legislative interference between landlord and tenant never to have gone further than the foregoing definitions would warrant, a reasonable or honest man could hardly object to such legislation being carried into effect. The justice of the principle has been indeed acknow- ledged by three successive administrations, which have intro- duced into Parliament bills founded on and in accordance with it. It is not our wish to impugn the motives of those who
The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right, S^o
opposed these measures on the plea of their not being sufficiently- liberal to the tenant ; but it is an undoubted fact that it was a section of the popular party and their representatives, and not the British House of Commons, that was and is accountable for the absence, during the last ten years, of at least a moderate legislative protection to the industrious and improving tenant. Some of those who professed to advocate the tenant's cause^ both in Ireland and in Parliament, made on his behalf demands of such a nature that to have acceded to them would have been — at any rate, according to English notions — to annihilate the rights of property. One would have thought it must be self- evident — if Ireland and England are to receive their laws from the same Parliament — that to make " perpetual fixity of tenure," and " compulsory valuation of land,' 'leading principles in the ultimatum of the tenant-right party, was practically to prevent any settlement whatever of the tenant-right question by the British House of Commons.^
Among the mischievous results of demanding a recognition of these impracticable principles as the right of the tenant, has been the creating of false notions, and the raising of delusive hopes, in the minds of the Irish tenantr j^. They were told, with truth, that it was an injustice for any man to have the power of eject- ing a tenant from his farm, and appropriating its increased value, without any repayment for his outlay, whether of labour or capital, by which that increase of value had been created. "With apt and interested scholars it was no difficult matter to carry this teaching a little further. To dispossess an improving tenant without fair compensation was an admitted injustice. Strictly speaking, the injustice lay in the want of compensation ; but the real practical injury to the tenant was the fact of being- dispossessed.
]^ow the best friends of the Irish tenant must allow that there are fewer of the small land-holders who (in the sense that any tenant-right bill could recognise) have hitherto been im- proving tenants than there are of the reverse. Any legislation, therefore, that merely gave the tenant a property in his bona fide improvements could be a boon, at the present moment, only
5 Theories of this nature received a high philosophical sanction from the writings of Mr. J. S. Mill. His proposed remedy for the agrarian difficulties of Ireland, viz. that " the whole of her land should be made by Act of Parliament the property of the occupiers, subject to the rent then paid, as a fixed rent- charge," was in those days often quoted. Even now he is occasionally cited as an authority by the very few persons who still hold these generally exploded opinions, and who either have not seen or ignore the practical recantation of them which Mr. Mill has made in his edition of 1862, where he says that " Ire- land no longer requires what are called heroic remedies ;" and again, " that the opinions he expressed before 1856 he now feels are no longer susceptible of practical application" (fifth edition, p. 407).
354 The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right.
to tlie minority of the tenant class. The larger number of the cottiers and small farmers, not having made any improvements, would be unaffected by the protecting law, and would be as liable as ever to unrecompensed eviction. Can it then be a matter of surprise that, when certain of the popular leaders in Ireland promulgated the doctrine that " the land was made for those who live on it,'* they found in that class many willing dis- ciples ? Is it wonderful that, in a country where eviction means either perpetual expatriation or perpetual pauperism, a law could easily be represented as being unjust which left in the hands of an often hostile minority an almost irresponsible power over every thing short of the very existence of their fellow-men ? We are not maintaining that these views are just, or that any legis- lation founded on them is either possible or to be desired ; but we cannot discuss the practicability of any settlement of the land- question without bearing in mind their existence. It must also be remembered that such theories as to the rights of property, however fallacious, are not peculiarly Irish ; and that it is not many years since a party who held somewhat similar views was so numerous and so violent in England as to threaten the peace of London. Now, although it may not be surprising that these ideas became popular amongst a certain interested class in Ire- land, it seems evident that no reasonable man could expect them to be recognised by the legislature. If any English or Scottish land-holder were to start such a theory as that of fixity of tenure, he would be scouted even by his own class as a revolutionist.
Leaving, therefore, the Irish parliamentary representatives altogether out of consideration, is it not plain that the promul- gation of such views by the advocates of the Irish tenant can have no other effect than to disgust the British portion of Par- liament with the whole question ? The House of Commons has frequently shown great willingness, not only to discuss" the reasonable demands of the Irish tenant, but to legislate in his favour. But when it sees the original demand of " compensa- tion for improvements" (to which no honest man could object) lost, as it were, amongst a host of claims founded on principles totally adverse to all received notions of the rights of property, it feels disposed to look on the entire agitation as a sham, and to place it on the already well-filled shelf of forgotten, or soon to be forgotten, Irish grievances.
There are amongst those who have studied this question some who think that the tenant-right custom of Ulster would, if extended to, and legally enforced in, the south and west of Ireland, be in itself a satisfactory and a sufficient solution of the land-question. The correctness of this view is by no means obvious. The Ulster custom no doubt originated in the idea of
The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right, 355
allowing the outgoing to receive from the incoming tenant the value of the unexhausted improvements made by the one, and about to be enjoyed by the otljjer. It was in principle merely an arrangement to compensate a departing tenant for improve- ments. As such it was perfectly just and fair. But in its practi- cal working, there arise cases without number where no improve- ments have been made during a tenancy, and yet where the right to "sell his good-wiir* is claimed by, and often allowed to, the outgoing tenant. In all these cases it is evident that the tenant has no just claim whatever to this indulgence ; and, if he make such a claim, he is in truth asking for what is his landlord's and not his. Where this tenant-right custom is in force, a tenant-at- will holding, let us say, ten acres at a pound an acre, and never having done any thing to add permanently to its value, considers himself hardly used if his landlord refuses him permission to dis- pose of his interest. He knows that, if he were allowed to sell, he would probably get 501. or 60?., perhaps 100/. for it, such sums being not at all unfrequently paid for the mere possession of small farms let at an ordinary rent and from year to year. He proclaims this fact to his landlord, and bases on it his claim for what he (of course incorrectly) calls tenant-right. When doing this, he seems entirely to forget that the only reasonable deduction to be drawn from his case is, that the farm he holds at ten pounds a year is considered by a certain number of his neighbours to be worth twelve or fifteen. It is both a remarkable and unfortunate peculiarity of these dealings, that when the small farmers make these bargains there is too little consideration whether the land is in a good or in an ex- hausted state. It frequently occurs that the possession of a farm completely run out will fetch as large a price as that of a farm of equal size in reasonably good condition. This is unfortunate in several respects. While, on the one hand, the custom of allowing a tenant, when leaving a farm held at will, to dispose of the increased value created by his own labour or capital, would be a strong inducement to exertion, on the other hand, the certainty that even if his land deterio- rates in value during his tenancy he will be equally sure not to be a pauper when leaving it, is a great temptation to idle- ness. Moreover, this too common perversion of the tenant-right principle is open to the grave objection that it impoverishes the incoming tenant, and by lessening his capital lessens his chances of working his farm at a profit. Again, it must be re- membered that if the tenant-right custom of Ulster were to be now extended to, and enforced in, the south and west of Ire- land— if every tenant in Leinster, Munster, and Connaught were to become legally entitled to dispose of his good-will to the VOL. IV. h h
356 The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right,
highest bidder — probably one-half of these tenants would be acquiring a property in that to which the}'- had no just claim, inasmuch as at least one-half of the farms in Ireland have changed hands within the last twenty-five years, and their actual occupiers neither built the houses thej' live in, nor in- herited nor purchased them from their predecessors. There is yet another argument against allowing the indiscriminate privilege of selling the good-will of farms. It is the likelihood, in a country still in a state of transition, of jeopardising the just rights of the land-owners. We will suppose a tenant to have purchased for twenty pounds the good-will of a farm, either in a remote district, or during a period of agricultural depression, subject to a rent which (time and place being considered) was its fair letting value at the time. He has gone on for a dozen years in the usual slovenly agricultural fashion of his neighbourhood — one year of potatoes and three years of oats — the land at the end of the time being, so far as his labour or exertion is concerned, not a whit better than when he took it. But during the course of this dozen years the enterprise of the local proprietors has caused a railway to penetrate into this remote district ; and markets that were inaccessible to its inhabitants are brought to their doors. Or the times have improved; potatoes are no longer blighted; distemper has ceased to decimate the pigs. In a word, the value of the possession is increased ; the " good-will" that then sold for twenty pounds would now sell for a hundred. These changes have taken place, on the hypothesis, from the mere march of time, and through the force of circumstances entirely uncontrolled by the tenant. He can in justice urge no claim to benefit by them; and yet that "custom" which "tends to make the proprietor a mere rent- charger on his estate*^ will certainly be quoted by the tenant in bar of his landlord's just rights. From all these considerations it appears that, while the settlement of the land- difficulty on the principle of " com- pensation for improvement" is a matter of urgent importance, the universal acceptance of the Ulster tenant-right custom, as it exists in practice as distinct from theory, would be little real benefit to either the owners or the occupiers of land in Ireland. In the introduction to a very valuable compilation of Papers, Letters, and Speeches on the Irish Land- Question, lately pub- lished by Mr. Sergeant Shee (now Mr. Justice Shee), the follow- ing suggestive remarks occur : " Now that all have become wiser by experience, a government assured of the undivided support of the Irish Liberal representation might not, on the demand of the Irish people, be indisposed to resume, and might see its duty and interest in resuming, a well-drawn unassailable bill, perfect
The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right, 357
us a legal instrument in all its parts, to which the House of Commons on the report of a Select Committee, the most emi- nent statesmen and jurisconsults on both sides of the House, three successive governments, and many, as I had the means of knowing, of the more considerable Anglo-Irish proprietors and their agents, have already set the seal of their approval." In our opinion, it rests mainly with the leaders of the popular party in Ireland whether a bill destined to better the condition of the improving tenant can be carried through Parliament or not. It will be necessary, to begin with, that those who demand legislation should show themselves to be really in earnest. To this end they must, in the first place, define clearly and precisely what it is they want ; and they must confine their demands to what, in all reasonable probability, a British House of Commons maybe persuaded that it would be just to grant. Having deter- mined on a fixed course of action with regard to this question, they will have to see that their representatives in Parliament honestly follow that course. At home they will have to use all the influence that can be brought to bear on the people, to undo the mischief that has unfortunately been done by the discussion of those extravagant theories which have been mixed up with the tenant-right question. Of these requisites the last will, we fear, be found the most difficult of attainment. Its necessity is evident ; for unless it can be shown that reasonable legis- lation is likely to put a stop to querulous agitation, a great inducement to statesmen to take up the matter will be want- ing. Of its difficulty, it requires a very slight knowledge of human nature to be aware. Men are ever ready enough to believe that their misfortunes are caused by others rather than by themselves ; and the long-cherished belief in the existence of a grievance is always hard to dispel. The Irish tenantry have been taught to believe that their position as to their legal rights is far worse than that of the tenant class in Eng- land; that the law which in England protects, in Ireland oppresses, the tenant ; that while in England he is safe from capricious eviction, in Ireland he is daily liable to it ; that whilst the Irish landlord is a rack-renting tyrant, his English brother is a mild, humane, disinterested, easy-going man, satis- fied with a very moderate rent for his land, and ever burning with anxiety to build barns, byres, and dwelling-houses, at his own expense, and solely for the benefit of his much-loved tenant. Now no one, knowing the two countries, requires to be told that these representations are at least very highly coloured. It is well known that, though the landlord in England may build the farmhouses and offices in the first instance, and may sometimes (according to the custom of the district where his
358 The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right.
property lies) aid in keeping them in repair, while in Ireland the landlord has hitherto usually left these things to be done by the tenant, yet the English proprietor receives an ample equivalent in the much higher rent that his farms produce than that at which land of the same intrinsic value is gener- ally let in Ireland.^ Nothing can be more fallacious than the idea that the j^ower of e\acting an improving tenant in Ireland is greater than it is in England, or that the English tenant class are in practice perfectly free from the capricious exercise of it by their landlords. A very cursory reference to the evi- dence taken before the Agricultural Customs Committee of the House of Commons in 1848 will suffice to show that tenants' grievances are not peculiar to Ireland. A perusal of the Report of that Committee may also be not without its value to those who are fond of representing the absence of tenant-right legis- lation for Ireland as a part and parcel of the anti-Irish policy of England. For while the evidence taken before the Com- mittee goes to show, almost without contradiction, that some legislative interference between owners and occupiers in Eng- land is much desired by the latter, and although very cogent arguments were adduced by various witnesses in support of that view, yet the House of Commons declined to inter- fere in England, while, as we have before stated, successive governments have shown their willingness to meet the Irish tenant at least half-way in his demands for legislative protec- tion. The discussion raised in the Times within the last few months by the able letters of " A Practical Farmer,^' and the prominence lately given to views somewhat similar to his at the meetings of local farming societies in the Yale of Evesham and several other English districts, show that the desire for legislation between landlord and tenant is still alive amongst the farming classes in this country.
The circumstance we have mentioned with regard to the wide-spread desire for a tenant-right bill for England amongst English tenants-at-will, and the fact of Parliament having
^ This statement may surprise some of our Irish readers ; but we can never- theless assure them of its correctness. People talking loudly about English and Irislx rents arc liable to forget the great difference between the area of an acre in England and an acre in Ireland, and the consequent fact that 25s. per acre in England means 21. per acre in Ireland. Now 2 Is. -would be a low acreablc aver- age rent for medium land in England, while 35.v. would be a decidedly high one for medium land in Ireland; Again, it must be remembered that in England, as a rule, the tithe and the entire poor-rate are paid by the tenant ; while iu Ireland the entire tithe and half the poor-rate are paid by the landlord. We should be below the mark in putting these two items at less than7i per cent on the aver- age Irish rental, while from 5 to 7 per cent is allowed to be an ample annual deduction for farmstead maintenance, repairs, and insurance on the best-managed estates in England*
The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right, 359
declined to grant their prayer, althougli tliey may be proofs that, in this matter at least, Ireland has not been treated with less consideration than England, must not be looked on as ar- guments against the justice of the Irish tenant's demand for legislative interference on his behalf. It may be perfectly true that land of the same intrinsic value lets for less rent in Ire- land than in England, partly in consequence of the necessary buildings being erected and maintained by the landlord in the latter country, and by the tenant in the former. Still, as the law does not in either case give the tenant any security for an outlay of his capital, it is evident that the hardship he suffers must be greater where it is not the general custom for the landlord to erect the usual farmhouses and offices, than where it is the custom. The Irish tenant, therefore, is substantially injured by a state of the law v/hich gives him no legal security for his outlay of labour or capital in those impro\'ements of a permanent nature which, according to the general custom of the country, must be made by him, if made at all. Possibly the injury he suffers may at times have been exaggerated, and its discussion may have been made a vehicle for attacks on Saxon rule and Saxon rulers, the acrimony of which may have gone far to embitter party feelings on the subject ; but never- theless the grievance remains. Successive governments have admitted the justice, if not the necessity, of a change in the law ; and yet the law is still unchanged.''' An acknowledged injustice to occupiers of land is allowed to remain unheeded in the midst of a population who live by the land alone, and who are prone enough to make the most of grievances for which England can in any way be made accountable. Is it wise or statesmanlike to treat the demand for that which has been admitted to be simple justice with the supercilious con- tempt with which, in a late session of Parliament, the men- tion of tenant-right legislation was met by the present Chief Secretary for Ireland ? Should it not rather be the policy of the government, if a superstructure of imaginary grievance has
' We are of course aware that Mr. Cardwell's bill was intended to meet, and is, we believe, supposed by the present Chief Secretary for Ireland to have sufficiently met, the needs of the Irish tenant. But a law which has been three years on the statute-book, and of which nevertheless advantage has been taken in but one solitary instance, can hardly be seriously spoken of as a practical remedy for this long-admitted evil. As Judge Shee says in the work already quoted, •' It is disheartening to reflect that . . . the government of a country in which six millions of British subjects are mainly dependent on agriculture, . . . and iu which the indispensable instrumenta of successlul cultivation are provided at the expense of the tenant, should not have influence enough to carry to the foot of the throne a law holding out to him any better encourage- ment to employ his labour and capital in a manner so profitable . . . than an annuity for such portion of a term of twenty-five years as may be unexpired at his eviction of 7/. 2*. for every 100/. worth of improvement."
360 The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right,
been raised on t"he foundation of a substantial wrong, to over- tbrow the imaginary, by removing the substantial, injustice?
It may perbaps be doubted whether the passing of a tenant- right bill would materially affect the existence of agrarian crime in Ireland. It is certainly both possible and probable that no mere law would immediately have that effect ; but it is also certain that the crimes in question never will be put down until a fair measure of tenant right has been passed. It is true that, with a tenant-right bill, our hopes may be disappointed; but, without it, they certainly must be. The ultimate destiny of agrarianism will mainly depend on two contingencies: first, whether the leaders of the tenant-right agitation will agree in good faith to accept as a full measure of justice a bill founded on the principles of Mr. Sharman Craw- ford, to which a formal adhesion was given by the successive ministries of Lord Derby, Lord Aberdeen, and Lord Palmer- ston ; and secondly, whether, having accepted such a measure, they will honestly endeavour, as a reasonable sequel to it, to wean the minds of the people from that querulous bitterness that marks their present feelings towards the owners of land. We have heard an Irish landlord described by a peasant, with something of that peculiar poetry of expression that seems na- tural to the Celtic tone of thought, as *' the m^n for whom the grass grows." This expression is eminentlj^ characteristic of the feeling with which in Ireland the man who tills the soil has been taught to regard the man who owns it. " You do nothing — I do all ; and yet you get the lion-'s share of the profits !" As long as this feeling survives, so long will there still be danger of recurring agrarian outrage. Now there are some who believe this feeling to be ineradicable. We are not of the number. We conceive that the future peacefulness of Ireland will depend on the possibility of bringing public opi- nion, which now seems to sympathise with agrarian crime, into unmistakeable opposition to it. This change will be extremely difficult to produce ; but there is no reason to despair as to its possibility. It is but a few years since the Irish were perhaps the most drunken nation in Europe. In those days, a man who went home sober from fair or market was looked on as having almost disgraced his manhood. Public opinion was then on the side of the drunkard ; or, at least, it was not against him. Yet the labours of one earnest man completely altered the character of Ireland in this respect. Any one who, in 1838, had ven- tured to foretell that in five years drunkenness would be almost unknown, would have been looked on as a wild enthusiast ; yet such was the case in 1843. It is not impossible to eradicate agrarian crime, any more than it was impossible to eradicate
The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right, 361
drunkenness ; but before this can be done, it must be clearly, boldly, unmistakeably shown that a spirit of reformation — a spirit similar in its earnestness to that which animated Father Mathew — animates all the political leaders of the Irisb people. And the first and most needful step towards arousing a spirit that would inculcate obedience to the law and a reverence for justice, is so to legislate that law and justice may be one.
Whenever the subject of Irish crime is under discussion, great stress is always laid, and with much reason, on the dis- heartening difficulty of obtaining evidence against criminals, and more particularly against the perpetrators of agrarian outrages. For this cause, this kind of crime sets all reasoning derived from the means of repressing crime in other countries completely at fault. Various causes have helped to produce this peculiarity. Of these the chief is distrust — a chronic and universal distrust. In Ireland men have no confidence in their neighbours. Ca- tholics, Protestants, landlords, tenants, employers, labourers, — all distrust one another. But while to a considerable extent this feeling is common to all classes, amongst the peasantry it goes deepest and reaches farthest. Long nsed to sufier from deceit and oppression, they can hardly bring themselves to believe that any one with whom they have dealings is acting entirely without guile, or saying neither more nor less than he means. "Divide et impera^^ — the fatal maxim of generations of British statesmen — has been the motto of the policy which has produced this almost universal evil. To maintain the unjust ascendancy of one class and party, all others have been, according to the changing circumstances of the hour, op- pressed or flattered, tyrannised over or cajoled. Such a training could have but one result. When we reflect that not a genera- tion has passed away since the habitual treatment of the Irish people by England was worse than that of a slave by his master, we can scarcely be astonished if, in the present day, the Irish character retain some of the peculiar traits that are the almost inevitable results of long-continued oppression. It is hard to expect strict truthfulness or manly independence from the sons of men to whom the law of the land held out for years the strongest inducements to domestic treachery, and whom it pun- ished with unsparing cruelty if they dared to follow the dictates of their conscience. It is scarcely reasonable to look for sincere respect for the law, and confidence in its administrators, amongst a people within whose own memory a portion of the penal code was still in force. To the peasant of to-day the law declares it to be a crime to harbour or protect the perpetrator of agrarian crime. To the father of that peasant the law equally declared it to be a crime to harbour or protect the Catholic priest. In
S62 The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right,
these days the most fanatical bigot dares not place the two on the same level ; but the peasant cannot yet have forgotten that the law he is expected to reverence has dared to do so.
It is true that the British statute-book is no longer disgraced by the existence of these iniquitous laws. It may be also true that the spirit from which they had their origin has died out amongst most men of intellect and education, and is, if not dead, at least dormant in the masses. But it is equally true that the recollection of the days of persecution is still vivid in the mind of the Irish Catholic. Such a recollection can only be obliterated by a steady course of just, liberal, and even indulgent rule, patiently and hopefully persevered in, till, whether within a few years as we trust, or in a longer period as is possible, it reaps its reward. It can hardly be expected that a quarter of a cen- tury of moderately just government can wipe out the moral stains left on the national character by three centuries of cease- less persecution. There is unfortunately a large party of Irish- men which still, even in these days, refuses to believe that the feeling of England towards Ireland has undergone any real change since the days when the penal laws were in force, and which perpetually mistrusts the Irish policy of all English governments, merely because it is their Irish policy. The exist- ence of such a feeling is a great misfortune for Ireland ; if for no other reason, yet for one that may fairly have some weight with even the most anti-Saxon of Irish patriots — the more so perhaps as it is not very flattering to England. It is this: that in these days no party, however wrong-headed, any longer pre- tends that it is the interest of England to oppress Ireland. That idea was once current ; and Ireland was oppressed accordingly. But now that it is admitted to be the interest of England to treat Ireland with justice, it is only consequent to suppose that Ireland will be so treated. Benefits conferred from such a motive may perhaps have no claim to a return of gratitude ; but they are none the less benefits ; and it is a mistaken policy to treat them as though they were injuries. In referring, therefore, as we have done, to the past history of Ireland, and in tracing to that source the chief evils from which she now suffers, we are far from being actuated by any desire to make her past misgovern- ment by England unduly prominent, or to encourage an anti- English feeling amongst Irishmen. Our object has rather been to prevent Englishmen from forgetting what the anti- Irish tirades of the English press make it evident that some amongst us have forgotten, — that to the unjust folly of our own forefathers may be mainly attributed the existence of those Irish faults which we in this country are now the loudest and least sparing in condemning. The best and happiest change that
The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right, 'r^Qo
could befall both, nations would be, that Irishmen should cease to remember tlie past history of their country, and that Eng- lishmen should resolve never to forget it.
Till agrarian crime is uprooted, Ireland will never be tho- roughly prosperous ; and it never will be uprooted until the tone of Irish, feeling towards England undergoes a radical improve- ment. Towards effecting this, the first and most essential change must be for the English Government to show unmistakeably that they are determined to treat Irishmen and Englishmen accord- ing to the same measure of evenhanded justice. They must make it plain to Irishmen of every creed and every party that for the future there are to be no religious or party tests recog- nised in the administration of Ireland; and that all Irish- men, whether Protestants or Catholics, are in truth — and not in name only — to enjoy civil and religious liberty. IN'ow, so long as the Catholics of Ireland have to support their own Church and four-fifths of the Established Church as well, no man can reasonably maintain that the Protestant and the Catholic are equal in the eye of the law. While the Catholic demand for freedom of education is contemptuously refused, it cannot be said that there is religious equality amongst Irishmen. ' A principle which the legislature has admitted to be just for the Catholics of England cannot possibly be unjust for the Catho- lics of Ireland.
There are plenty of people who will tell us that there is no use in trying to conciliate the Irish priesthood or the Irish people, and that disloyalty and hatred of British rule have too firm a hold on their minds ever to be eradicated. We do not be- lieve that it is so. But if we did believe it we would answer, in the words of Mr. Goldwin Smith, that " when the Pro- testants complained of the Catholic clergy as being rebels by nature, it was assuredly they that had done their best to make them so;'' and again that, *' if there be any disaffection to the state among the Catholics of Ireland, it is because the state still gives them just grounds for disaffection." In Canada the Catholic hierarchy and clergy, many of them Irishmen, are con- tented citizens and loyal subjects. Their brethren in Ireland might be, and in good time we trust will be, the same. At any rate, it is only reasonable to give a fair trial before final con- demnation ; and that fair trial the Catholics of Ireland have not yet had. So long as the Church of the minority is sup- ported by the majority, and facilities for education of which they can conscientiously avail themselves are granted to the Protestant and Presbyterian and refused to the Catholic, it is false to say that all means have been tried to pacify Ireland. When the grant of a charter to the Catholic University has
36if The Irish Exodus and Tenant Right.
given to Irish Catholics similar educational facilities to those found by Protestants in Trinity College, Dublin, and in the Queen^s University ; when tenants have been secured by law in the possession of what politicians of all parties have admitted to be their just right ; when the Protestant Church Establish- ment has ceased to iusult the Catholics of Ireland, and her reve- nues have been allotted either to the support of the poor or to some other object from which all classes and all creeds can (without a possibility of danger to their complete independ- ence) derive a benefit proportionate to their numbers ; — when these legislative remedies have been tried, and tried in vain, it will be quite time enough to despair of the future of Ireland. If an unmistakeable inclination to legislate for Ireland in this spirit were shown by the Government ; if it were made clear to the Irish Catholic that neither his birth nor his creed is for the future to be any bar to his perfect social equality with his British fellow-subjects ; if the childish insult cast on the Ca- tholic hierarchy and priesthood by the extension of the Eccle- siastical Titles Bill to Ireland were atoned for, and a reasonable recognition were made by Government of their proper status and dignity as ministers of the people's Church ; — if all these things were done, Ireland in the next ten years would make rapid strides in peacefulness, civilisation, and general prospe- rity. Before, however, this desirable consummation can be looked for, politicians of every class must resolve to forget the prejudices of the past. Until all parties consent to approach the discussion of Irish politics with less of bitterness and more of reasonable concession to the feelings, and even to the preju- dices, of others than is at present the case, the questions re- quiring settlement will remain unsettled, and the social evils arising out of their existence will continue to retard the pros- perity and to disgrace the character of the country.
[ 365 ]
THE SCHLESWIG-HOLSTEIN MOVEMENT IN GERMANY.
Although there is scarcely a politician now who does not con- sider himself competent to give a very decided judgment on the dispute between Denmark and the Duchies, it is but a few months ago that the question was looked on as so intricate and complicated that those who discussed it in speeches and in the press were not in the least ashamed to confess that they did not understand it. At first a mere captatio benevolentice, the acknow- ledgment passed into an expression of unpardonable frivolity as, day after day, it became more obvious that the peace of Europe was threatened by the growing excitement in Germany. x\nd yet it must be admitted that the controversy is one which can- not be solved by even the fullest acquaintance with its legal points. The maxim fiat justitia ruat coelum is as unpractical in this as in other great conjunctures of European politics ; and there is a sense, therefore, in which we must allow that men are justified in forming an opinion on the general question without having mastered all the details. But the ultimate consequences of the dispute bear so decisively on many questions in which Germany and England have a common interest, that it is an evil of the deepest gravity for the two nations to approach each other, at the very opening of it, under the influence of prejudices and antipathies.
It is impossible to judge the question honestly or justly without knowing the character and condition of the parties that divide opinion in Germany. We need not now discuss the fami- liar question of the claims of Schles wig- Hoist ein, or the several views on it that are current among the Germans, or the innu- merable solutions of it that have been proposed. It is of greater practical importance to enquire into the state of the different German parties at the moment when the death of King Frede- rick of Denmark suddenly brought the conflict on them, and into the manner in which they received, and were affected by, that event. Of course, it is to be understood that in speaking of " parties^' we mean to indicate not only the various sections of opinion among the educated classes, but also those larger political groups which include the governments of the several states.
After the first momentary unanimity, the Schleswig-Holstein question appears to have increased, instead of diminishing, the dissensions of Germany. All the ideas of German politics are in a state of fermentation. Revolution and Legitimacy, the Con- federation and the Great Powers, the triple league, the Con-
366 The Sclileswig-Holstebi Movement hi Germaiiy,
federation of the Rhine, and the Hepublic, are advocated in the press, and invoked as the true solution of all existing problems. This shows that the position of the Duchies is not merely one of the qnestions which Germany has to work out, but is, in a sense, the German question itself All Europe is pervaded by the feel- ing that Sehleswig-Holstein involves Germany — that the crisis embraces the whole country, from the North Sea to the Alps. The Pentarchy, which, by reducing Germany to a geographical expression, and making her the passive centre of European poli- tics, was enabled to deal injustice to nations, lies shattered in pieces. It has fallen not by the blows of the Germans, but by its own fault. Through many errors and repeated failures Ger- many has long striven to become the active centre of Europe ; and the nations that have hitherto been supreme naturally put forth their power to resist claims which would deprive them of their accustomed influence. Despotic France, revolutionary Italy, Eussia whose grasp of Poland could not be maintained in presence of a united Germany — all have the same interest, though from different motives, in thwarting the efforts of Ger- many to become united, powerful, and active. The opposition of this interest is quite legitimate from the point of view of the several nations. But so, on the other hand, from their own point of view, is the common resolve of all parties in Germany to accomplish the work of creating a great national power. And this work they have begun to execute with all the resources at their command.
When the scheme of Federal reform had been frustrated by Prussia, at the end of last summer, a disintegration of the great parties immediately began. If it had continued, it would pro- bably have carried Germany back to thoso minute local discus- sions between the various governments and their subjects which formerly neutralised the force and energy of the nation. It would have given fresh prominence to the agitation and con- spiracies of demagogues ; and these movements, in spite of their national aim, would have injured the national cause, just as the separatist resistance of Prussia prevented the execution of the reforms which Austria and the other states had prepared. But the evil was arrested by the speech of Napoleon III. on the 5th of November, and the death of King Frederick of Denmark on the 15th. The announcement that French supremacy was to supersede the balance of the five great powers, and the danger lest a new Alsace should be severed from Germany for ever, at once awoke the whole German nation to the consciousness that the time had come to abandon its passive helplessness, and to unite in a combined action of princes and people.
This consciousness was not the work or the idea of any party;
The Schlesivig-Holstein Movement in Germany, 367
it was the public sense and instinct of the nation. No one who knows Germany can doubt that the movement is one of intense depth and earnestness — a national upheaving, and not merely a great party measure. The different parties, it is true^ have sinc(^ endeavoured to obtain the control of this vast power, and to fill their own sails with the strong wind of the public sentiment; but they did nothing to raise it. And we shall see, as we proceed, whether their interference did not rather enhance the danger that the aspirations of Germany would still remain unsatisfied.
When a nation is impelled by some resistless force to the accomplishment of a long-neglected purpose, there are always men, or combinations of men, who press on beyond it, or who withstand it, covering their own objects by an exaggerated pro- fession of zeal in the nev/ cause. Cowardice, indolence, narrow- ness, and the dread of all energetic action, for a time stand in the way, especially among a people so little used to general politics as the Germans. There have been such symptoms in the present movement. Unquestionably the new phase into which the death of King Frederick brought the Schleswig-Holstein question came upon Germany by surprise, though every politician knew that sooner or later it must recur in that very form. But the position of aftairs was soon understood; and instead of waiting, after their ancient custom, for their governments to take the initiative, and losing the result in disputing about the end, and the manner, and the means, the Germans resolutely cast aside all secondary interests, and concentrated their activity on one distinct object — to reject the treaty of London, and its obli- gations for Germany, and to obtain the independence of the Duchies under their native sovereign.
It is not our intention to examine the reception which this clear and definite programme encountered in Europe. We are dealing only with the internal history of Germany under the influence of the new phase of the Schleswig-Holstein question. The wish of the German people was to aim exclusively at the independence of the now emancipated Duchies, and at their union with Germany. But Austria and Prussia saw that the literal adoption of this policy would be a challenge to all Europe, and would surrender the principle of that influence which their own position in Europe enabled them to exercise on the politics of the Confederation. Their unwillingness to sacrifice this influence to a sudden storm of public opinion is as reasonable as their resolu- tion not to pledge themselves to a European war, which they would have to plunge into without preparation, and the burden of which would fall more particularly on them, since they would be held responsible for its occurrence. They can neither identify themselves entirely with the German nation, nor live separated
368 The Schleswig-Holstein Movement in Germany,
from it. When the present ag;itation began, its national character was but dimly understood by several of the smaller governments which have since — rather from animosity to the allied powers than from motives of patriotism — become the champions of the most extreme demands. But the truth was at once perceived at Berlin, and still more at Vienna ; and neither Austria nor Prussia had any interest in repressing or opposing the movement.
Let us look for a moment at the state of the Federal system at the time when King Frederick of Denmark died. For many years Prussia had treated it as hopeless and untenable ; and she had accordingly done every thing in her power to baffle the action and neutralise the authority of the Bund. To the outer world she presented it as a mere dependency of her own ; and she had laboured to prevent the accomplishment of any reforms, in order that nothing might qualify the contempt in which she wished it to be held at home. Matters had become worse since the meet- ing of the sovereigns at Frankfort. From that time Prussia had been in open opposition to the Confederation, and to every scheme of reform based on its existing laws. In many vexatious ways she had prevented the success of the reformers. But she had neither made any separate proposal of her own, nor moved any amendment to the act which was passed at Frankfort, lest by so doing she should implicitly recognise the fundamental idea of the Federal system — the equal rights of all the Confederates. Austria, on the other hand, had endeavoured to reconcile this idea with the necessary consideration for the actual inequality of power between the several states. At the Frankfort meeting the assent of all the smaller states, except some vassals of Prussia, had been given to the Austrian reform, on the assumption that the sacrifice of sovereign independence, which Austria proposed in favour of the Federal power, was every where sincerely meant. Austria was commissioned to overcome the resistance of Prussia by means of a compromise. But Prussia insisted on claiming for the two great powers a veto in all matters of war or peace; and this veto, if adopted, would have destroyed the Federal principle, by sanctioning an Austrian and Prussian supremacy, dividing Ger- many between those powers, and realising what is known as the policy of the Main frontier. Chiefly for this reason, the proposal failed ; and when Austria thereupon convoked the ministers of those states which had acceded to the Frankfort reform, in order to carry it out by means of a less comprehensive league — a league in which Prussia was not included, though her present position in the existing Confederation was preserved — a new dif- ficulty suddenly presented itself. It became apparent in the case of some of the reforming princes themselves that, whatever might be the energy of the conviction with which they had
The Sclileswig-Holstein Movement in Germany, 369
accepted the Frankfort scheme, it was less powerful than their dread of action, and their reluctance to make a sacrifice for the good of the common country. In many of the minor courts it was pretended that the resistance of Prussia was a decisive im- pediment to every reform, and therefore a sufficient reason for inaction ; the pretence was represented as patriotism ; and when King Maximilian of Bavaria started for Rome, his journey was regarded as a flight from the necessity of deciding whether the reform should be practically accomplished, or whether a con- firmation should be given to the state of things which had been solemnly pronounced rotten and unendurable. Thus the re-or- ganisation of the Federal constitution had for the time to be abandoned ; the Prussian minister triumphed, and was applauded even by the party of progress in Prussia ; and the Emperor of Austria found his scheme deserted even by those who had most warmly embraced it.
These proceedings, sufficiently disguised by patriotic declara- tions and promises, come down to the time of King Frederick's death, and had their place among the motives which led the Emperor of the French to propose a European Congress. Except in Prussia, in the Nationalverein, which aims at excluding Austria from Germany, and making the rest of the nation Prussian^ and among the democrats who speculate on the dissolution of exist- ing institutions, they caused a general sense of dissatisfaction and disgust. These feelings had as yet no distinct grounds for directing themselves against any definite grievance; but they gave full scope to the influence of revolutionary agitation, urging the hopelessness of a national reform without the reviving agency of a radical convulsion. The popular indignation was turned first against Prussia, for her dogged opposition to any improve- ment in the system, and then also against the wavering and shrinking of the middle states from the hopeful promise of the Frankfort scheme. On the other hand, Austria gained no sym- pathy ; for the theory of the middle states was, that they had entrusted her with the office of reconciling Prussia to the pro- jected reform, although, instead of sustaining her in the negotia- tions, they had one after another withdrawn from their engage- ment on particular points, or released themselves by urging the necessity of postponing active measures until a complete preli- minary agreement should be established between Vienna and Berlin.
Under these conditions the great German powers and the Go- vernments and people of the lesser states encountered the sudden crisis occasioned by the King of DenmarVs death. From the first, the Austrian government fdly understood the nature of the en- thusiastic outbreak, and proceeded in the belief that the nation
370 The ScJdesivig -Hoi stein Movement in Germamj.
could not be pacified or the contest avoided. The Prussian minis- tvy had its own reasons for regarding the prospect of hostilities with favour. Both powers^ however, were alike determined not to provoke the inevitable issue, but to come to it under the most favourable auspices they could secure, and to prevent it from be- coming a European war. Though they had so lately been in a state of violent antagonism on the question of Federal reform, they soon discovered many points at which their interests thorouglily coincided. Their recent experience gave them little confidence in the vigour or independence of the policy of the middle states. But these states, supported by the great national movement, now demanded that Prussia and Austria should throw over their engagements wdth Europe l^y the treaty of London, and should simply, against the menaces of all Europe, carry out the measures of the Confederation, which was not bound by that treaty. There was no assurance, however, that the middle group would stand by the two powers to the end. The latter, there- fore, came to the determination to arrest the rising flood by insisting on the absolutely defensive character of the Federal constitution. And, as they could neither entirely elude the na- tional sentiment, nor accept its control over themselves, they agreed in endeavouring to get the whole afiair into their own hands. This it was impossible to accomplish without some rude shocks to the Federal system.
The position of the two great powers was seriously affected by the attitude of their own subjects. Austria was not directly concerned in the affairs of Schleswig-Holstein except through the treaty of London ; but the movement in the German nation required of her that, as a member of the Confederation, she should obey the Federal resolutions, and should make war for the destruction of the treaty, if necessary against the whole of Europe. But Austria had been deserted by Germany in her own cause. Her political and economical exclusion from the nation was constantly demanded by the very party that claimed to be most purely national, and her recent scheme of German organi- sation had been thrown over by that other party which professed to uphold her federal connection with Germany. For these suf- ficient reasons the enthusiasm did not extend at first to the German provinces of Austria. Sympathy with the cause of the Duchies, and anxiety for their deliverance from the spiteful tyranny of the Danish democracy, were as strong in Austria as in the rest of Germany ; but the practical, political interest in the matter grew into importance only in proportion to the part which the government actually took. Hence it is very remark- able, and significant of the preponderance of the German element in Austria, that when the lleichsrath came to discuss the policy
The Schleswig-Holstein Movement in Germany. 371
of Count Rechberg in the Sclileswig-Holstein affair, on the vote of credit for the federal execution in Holstein, the victory of the government was accompanied by a schism in Schmerling's com- pact majority, and many eminent public men expressed their belief that the ministry had sacrificed the obligations of Austria as a German state to her position as a great European power. This schism may hereafter have important consequences in the internal life of the empirg. The ministry, by its previous policy, especially by the alliance of the foreign office with the Bismarck administration in Prussia, had forfeited much of the sympathy of Germany ; but it now became more popular, and much of its former prestige was recovered by the subsequent achievements of the Austrian army in the national cause.
The position of the Prussians towards the Schleswig-Holstein question is different. They have always claimed to lead Germany, on the ground of their eminently national spirit; and they have been in the habit of using the cause of the Duchies to throw dis- credit on the Diet, to illustrate the impotence of the middle states, and to represent Austria as the obstacle to a satisfactory settlement. If, as the popular voice would have it, the course taken by the several German races with regard to the present conflict were applied as a test of their patriotism, the Prussians would not come well out of the trial. By the end of 1863 almost every town in the middle states, especially in Southern Germany, had declared, either at meetings or by its municipal organs, that it was ready to make the most extreme sacrifices for the independence of Schleswig-Holstein under its native prince, and had begun to collect money, and founded associations to pro- mote that end. But in Prussia there had been scarcely any demonstrations of the same kind, except among the students. Since the beginning of the present year also the Prussians have remained much more sparing of these manifestations of feeling than the rest of the Germans, though the Prussian liberal orators have appeared at meetings in Central Germany, to urge the adoption of the most extreme resolutions against the policy of the Great Powers. In the parliament at Berlin the affair of the Duchies was at first almost ignored, being looked on as an un- timely interruption of the wordy but unproductive conflict with the reactionary ministry ; and when some exhibition of patriot- ism could no longer be decently avoided, the question was treated much less in the interest of Schleswig-Holstein than as a part of the Prussian dispute with the Bismarck cabinet. Waldeck, the democratic leader, declared that no notice ought to be taken of the Duchies as long as there was no prospect of making them a Prussian province. When supplies were demanded to enable the government to execute the military mission it had received
VOL. IV. c c
372 The Schleswig-Holstein Movement in Germany,
from the Diet, they were refused by the House of Deputies. The vote was disguised as one of want of confidence in the foreign poKcy of the minister; but it was given in the full consciousness that he could not be driven from office, and that this defeat would place him in the dilemma of either neglecting the federal duties of Prussia, or crowning his many breaches of the consti- tution by one which would be practically justifiable, and would inflict a deeper wound than any which ^ad gone before it on the principle of the constitutional monarchy.
jSFor had the military achievements of the Prussians against the Danes the same effect as those of the Austrians, in somewhat reconciling public opinion in Germany to their political conduct. Indeed, the contrast between the lofty language of the Prussian commanders and the results they were able to show even caused some injustice to be popularly done to the valour of the troops, and kept alive, in the case of Prussia, that suspicion of an under- standing with Denmark which it was no longer possible for the most unscrupulous demagogue to breathe against Austria. More- over, the haughtiness of the Prussian officers provoked perpetual conflicts with the federal authorities in Holstein ; and these con- flicts recalled the memory of 1849 too clearly not to lead to the persuasion that Prussia would again consider the Duchies as a conquest, made partly against Denmark and partly against the Confederation, which might be disposed of simply in accordance with Prussian interests. It was also thought to be a cause for alarm that, in the Prussian parliament_, the opposition directed its attacks against individuals only, and seemed blind to the infraction of the rights of the other German states which was involved in the independent course of the government.
It is evident, then, that popular opinion did not determine the policy of the gi-eat German powers ; nor did their parlia- ments constrain them to pursue any given path or aim, since the votes of those bodies were only negative, expressing dissatis- faction with particular ministers, but not suggesting any definite measures. The smaller states, however, whose policy could only assert itself through the Diet, were much more extensively con- trolled by the pressure of the prevailing spirit. It is hard to say why the movement in these states was more slow to manifest itself in Northern than in Southern Germany. But it must be borne in mind that the vote of the Diet on the 7th of December, on the question of a complete separation between the Duchies and the Danish monarchy, was decided by a small majority, and that that majority was composed of northern states which sup- ported Austria and Prussia in carrying the long-delayed federal execution, instead of the Bavarian proposal of an occupation for protecting all the federal rights in the new order of things. At
The Schleswig-Holstein Movement in Germany. 373
that time, indeed, the governments of Southern Germany did not occupy the advanced position which they afterwards came to hold. The populations from the first had pressed in that direction ; but they moderated their warlike ardour and their readiness to make sacrifices, when, as events proceeded, it became clear that if the agitators were allowed to lead the movement, it could never attain its ends without a civil war against the great powers, or an alliance with France. In either case, it was evident, the inde- pendence of the lesser states would be destroyed; and the instinct of self-preservation at last prevailed over the patriotic anxiety for the inhabitants of the Duchies. The popular feeling in favour of their complete independence and their adoption into the Con- federation, where they would necessarily strengthen the purely German element, is at this moment stronger and more active in the middle states than in Austria and Prussia. But when the Bavarian and, still more, the Saxon government cling so firmly to the inalienable rights of the Duchies, and the legitimacy of the pretender's claims, and oppose the policy of the two great powers with so much fanaticism as to be constantly on the verge of war with them, they are of course influenced by motives that have little to do with the good cause of Schleswig-Holstein, and the rightfulness of the Augustenburg succession.
These motives, however, are not the only ones that govern the conduct of the lesser states ; but they go far to explain the fact that these states, and especially such of them as are in the South, have yielded almost without resistance to the impulse of the great agitation. The death of King Frederick, as we have seen, coincided in point of time with the collapse of the project of federal reform. The two extreme parties, the Meindeutsch Nationalverein and the ffrossdeutsch Reformverein, regarded this collapse as a conjunc- ture favourable to their radical designs ; but this sentiment was not a general one. The overwhelming mass of the Germans hold that the national constitution can only be remodelled on some scheme which shall harmonise the interests of the petty sove- reigns with the complicated relations of the great powers ; and they were persuaded that the princes who had adopted the Aus- trian scheme at Frankfort had faltered in their patriotic resolu- tion from no worthier motive than a dread of the sacrifice of independent authority which the scheme necessarily involved. When the lesser states excused their refusal to join Austria in accomplishing the reform without Prussia, by alleging that nothing could be done until the two great powers had cdme to an understanding, the allegation was regarded as a sign of pusillanimous insincerity; since the differences between those powers are such that an understanding was never to be expected. The democracy and the adherents of the Prussian supremacy
374 The Schleswig-Holstein Movement in Germany,
were actively endeavouring to make capital out of the position of affairs. It was now clear, they argued, from the failure of the reform, that a strong and united Germany could spring only from a convulsion which should overthrow the princes, or from the subjugation of the lesser ones under the Prussian power. All this weakened the monarchical principle in the smaller states ; but the governments yielded to no illusions. They felt the absolute necessity of recovering themselves in the eyes of the nation ; and when the storm burst forth in November, without any intervention of the great parties, they seized the occasion Avith extraordinary eagerness, in order to restore the popu- larity of the central states. In Bavaria, where the enthusiasm of the people was the most stern and resolute, the government found an additional inducement to favour it, in the satisfaction of taking revenge on the Danish royal family for its acceptance of the Hellenic throne. Later on, however, the policy of the two great powers towards the Diet threvr the majority, com- posed of the lesser states, more and more into the background, and practically deprived them of their equal rights as confeder- ates ; while the general movement, passing into the hands of the gi'cat parties, sustained the policy of the federal majority, for the realisation of which it was ready to create a separate con- federation of the minor powers. In this position of affairs Ba- varia stood forward as being, for such an eventuality, the natural leader of Central Germany; but she began to temporise, and grew more moderate, when the majority in the Diet became less united, and the advance of Austria and Prussia removed the question of the Duchies from the federal jurisdiction into the region of international law. The agitators and demagogues of the Nationalverein now sought to rouse the indignation of the patriots against this apparent lukewarmness of the Bavarians ; and the Saxon minister. Von Beust, eagerly possessed himself of the vacant position, at least as far as words could do it. But all these combinations of the minor states lost much of their effect in the actual votes of the Diet, and were moreover neutralised by the progress of events in the field. The conference of min- isters at Wurzburg was not attended by the minor governments of Northern Germany, Hanover, Hesse, and Oldenburg; and its failure demonstrated both the impossibility of organising a third group of states on strictly national principles, in oppo- sition to the more scrupulous and cautious European policy of the great powers, and also the improbability that a union of those states M^ould ever accomplish its destined mission of medi- ating between Austria and Prussia.
In the earlier days of the movement the popular agitation sought, by parliamentary addresses, by meetings, and by every
The Schlesivig-Holstein Movement in Germany, 375
sort of demonstration, to drive the middle states into a violent antagonism to the great powers in the Confederation, and thus compelled these powers to undertake the winter campaign across the Eider, in order to prevent a German, and to localise the Danish, war. The same agitators now" overwhelm the middle states Avith abuse and votes of censure for their want of unanimity, for the inefficacy of their resolutions in the Diet, and for the failure of their lofty promises. If these zealots had their way, it is quite possible that we might live to see the armies of Central Germany falling on the rear of the allies in Schleswig, simply be- cause the programme of the great powers is less satisfactory for the national interests than the promises of the minor states. Urged forward by the popular excitement, and jealous for the maintenance of their equal position with the great powers in the Diet, partly influenced by dynastic sympathy with the Prince of Augustenburg, and partly impressed with the decisive consequences of the present struggle on their own security hereafter, the rulers of Central Germany undertook to gratify the illusions of their subjects by comporting themselves like great powers. Their hesitating attempt was frustrated by the rude realities of comparative force; and its failure naturally brought on them the bitter anger of their own people, whom the organs of the governments themselves had helped to work up to their former pitch of excitement and expectation. The illusion of a third group of states counterbalancing the two great powers has vanished, though its ghost may long continue to be called up at intervals, for various purposes and on different sides. Germany owes this humiliating result chiefly to the two great parties, both of which were substantially ruined by the failure of the Act of Reform. The Nationalverein, indeed, had lost its in- fluence from the beginning of the Bismarck rule in Prussia. Having made the absorption of Germany by Prussia the key- stone of its policy, its vitality was destroyed when the Prussian government scornfully refused its alliance, and the Prussian people proved too weak to prevent, or even to check, the unsym- pathising and separatist absolutism of their rulers. For a whole year the national association had solemnly abjured the Prussian supremacy, without having obtained any substitute except the vague cry of Progress. Many of those who, under its banner, had formed the majority in some of the lesser parliaments, aban- doned its tainted name, and called themselves the party of Pro- gress. But the abjuration of the Prussian fanaticism was a mere hypocrisy. The party still intrigued to bring the parliaments into collision with the governments, and to prevent any reform that did not tend towards the annexation to Prussia. It la- boured every where to introduce disorganisation and disorder.
376 The Schlesiuig-Hohteln Movement in Germany,
looking forward to the moment of a sudden change of system at Berlin, and reckoning that Germany would then be the more easily incorporated with Prussia the more completely its political institutions were undermined. So far there was method in the madness. But, as the disappointment lasted and success was de- layed, the party of Progress fell more and more into the hands of demagogues, without principles, or morality, or logic. Every opportunity was seized to recall its services to the recollection of the masses ; and this agitation for the sake of agitation it carried on with a skill and perseverance hardly ever before exhibited by a party which has retained its organisation without any distinct ideas. But it lost more and more the respect of the masses; and the signs of its decline became apparent as events marched on without regard for its impotence. For months it had been, eagerly seeking some definite national object, in order to sum- mon its rank and file again round its deserted standard and its isolated staff. Fate sent it the death of Frederick VII., the common constitution of the 19th of November, and the Schles- wig-Holstein pretender.
It cannot be said that when the crisis came the grossdeutsch party was any better prepared. Its moderate and loyal members were combined and organised in the reform associations ; but the more democratic elements, which a popular movement must chiefly rely on, held aloof. If the federal principle had not recently suffered a heavy defeat by the failure of the scheme for reform, the Schleswig-Holstein afl'air would no doubt have tended to the triumph of grossdeutsch opinions among the peo- ple. But, as matters actually stood, the sensible leaders of both the national parties could not help seeing that the independent popular agitation in favour of the Duchies would ignore them and pass them by ; and they understood the danger it would then be exposed to, of either degenerating into the vulgar instru- ment of demagogues, or breaking up into divided and impotent efforts, in either of which cases it would end in a ridiculous failure. This danger increased as the members of either party took the lead in the meetings and associations for Schleswig- Holstein in the several towns and territories, — a course in which the demagogues of the Nationalverein derived an advantage from their experience in agitating. To the leaders of the opposite party belongs the praise of having prepared a union between the Nationalverein and the Reformverein, independent of all party purposes, for the combined organisation and conduct of the popu- lar movement in a legal and peaceable manner. The represen- tatives of all the German parliaments and parties who met at Nuremberg in November, and convoked a general meeting of deputies at Frankfort for this purpose, evidently acted in the belief
The SMeswig-Holstein Movement in Germany, 377
that, since the whole nation was in principle united on this ques- tion, an alliance between the great national parties was possible, and would be able to exert a vigorous pressure on all those who might resist. But when the Frankfort assembly met, on the 21st of December, the state of affairs was completely changed. The members of the Natio7ialverein who had signed the Nuremberg compact, to set aside all party differences in order to cooperate for the independence of Schleswig-Holstein under Frederick of Augustenburg, had merely kept the name of their party out of sight, and had meanwhile been actively employed in getting the direction of the new associations exclusively into the hands of their partisans, and in monopolising the collection of money. The large sums over which they now obtained control, the careful organisation they already enjoyed, and the universality of the present movement, gave them an immense influence. They se- cured a majority in the committee of the Frankfort assembly, and constantly brought forward motions which distinctly aimed at the establishment of a sort of national government by the side of the regular state authorities. The grossdeutsch minority were reviled as Danes in Germany, denounced to the suspi- cions of the mob, and morally compelled to retire. In their ab- sence the Central Committee of Thirty- Six was appointed. Its members were chosen almost exclusively from among the leaders of the Nationalverein ; and they would have exercised a terrorism in Germany, as a committee of public safety, had it not been for the invariable and instinctive distrust felt by the nation for the party which sought by these intrigues to obtain the command of the people.
The Germans desire no revolution ; and a revolution in the name of Schleswig-Holstein would damage the good cause of the Duchies, and ensure its ruin. The two great parties have been dissolved by the progress of events ; and the combination under which the national movement is continued will be determined by the issue of the struggle with Denmark. A unanimous reso- lution of the German people for the restoration of their unity wiU be more easily attained than hitherto, when right and might have been weighed in a single definite question. Many illusions have been dispelled by the course of affairs; but the positive determination to vindicate the rights of the Duchies is as deep and as strong throughout the nation, without distinction of race or creed or party, as on the first day of the agitation. The Germans feel that their position as an active power will be only recognised by Europe when it has been established by some po- litical achievement which shall be the work of the whole nation. They will follow that leader who will lead them to a national war. They regard the policy of Austria and Prussia with sus-
378 The Schleswig-Holstein Movement in Germany.
piciou ; but the suspicion is not strong enough to dispense the governments of the other states from answering to the call of those two powers, if they should summon the nation to arms in order that Schleswig-Holstein may not be once more left to the tender mercies of Europe, Avithout regard to its national claims. The insolence of Denmark has confirmed and fixed the determi- nation of the Germans ; and the powers who are executing that determination are for the time identical with Germany.
[ 379 ]
AGRICULTURE IN FRANCE.
The gi*eat warehouses by our docks, where one kind of merchan- dise is ranged in interminable bales, are a fair symbol of English agriculture; while that of France may be likened to the shops, which exhibit every variety of commodity. The comparison does not imply a preference for either system, but simply asserts a fact which there is no need to explain when wc consider the difference of climate in the two countries. It is no whim of the farmer which covers Provence with olive-trees, the banks of the Rhine or Gironde with vines, or the Scotch mountains with their excellent beeves. Latitude decides the choice of crops, and thus indirectly influences the methods of cultivation. For the processes of cultivation are determined by the nature of the plants culti- vated ; a truism which will be found to have more important consequences than might be at first suspected. Thus, if one kind of crop could only be cultivated by hand, while another allowed the use of machinery, profound differences would in time be produced between the populations which cultivated the re- spective crops.
But, Avhatever are the effects of climate, man has a still more powerful influence on agriculture, on its methods and its pro- cesses. A French proverb says, Tant vaut Thomme, tant imut la terre; but this seems to overlook the differences in the richness of soil, or rather to claim every thing for man^s intelligence and work. Part of his influence depends on the social or po- litical organisation of a country. In one nation land is looked upon as an instrument which loses its efficiency by being broken up ; and the law favours the undivided inheritance of real pro- perty. In another this use of land is hardly considered, in com- parison with the political and social advantages of each subject being a freeholder ; and the law orders the equal division of pro- perty. We are pronouncing no opinion on this, but simply stating the fact that in one place the law favours large properties, in another small ones. And although it has been argued that the size of properties need not determine the extent of farms, be- cause a large property may be let out in several farms, or a single farmer may rent a number of small properties, it is nevertheless certain that in the majority of cases the extent of farms has a close relation to the extent of properties.
We have, then, three principal agents which give agriculture its characteristic differences — climate, man, and man's political or social organisation. There are also secondary agents whose influence must not be overlooked, such as the neighbourhood of
380 Agriculture in France.
a flourishing industrial population, offering a ready and certain market for the products of the soil, setting the example of opera- tions on a great scale^ and of the use of machinery, and providing out of its profits capital to be invested in agriculture. Good roads, peace, and security are other agents. It would be impos- sible to trace with any exactness the distinct action of each prin- cipal or secondary element. We see the combined effect of all at once; and one combination of causes, natural and social, cli- matic and political, gives to the agriculture of England the cha- racter of a factory, while another gives to that of France the character of a workshop. In the factory all the heavy work is done by natural forces — water, fire, or steam. In the workshop, though the aid of machinery is not discarded, the hand is the principal instrument employed. One method is distinguished by its extent, the other by its degree. These two divisions of agriculture may be traced in all countries. The one ever relies more or less on natural forces : the other is ever increasing the employment of man. Yet, though there is a perfect agreement in principles, there are many differences in the manner of their application. In England the high cultivation increases labour from the more careful breaking-up and cleansing of the soil; but it turns chiefly on manures, for which it spares no expense. In France the value of manures is by no means overlooked; but high cultivation turns chiefly on the increase of manual hus- bandry.
This is no arbitrary difference. The French farmers are not so rich as the English, and are therefore less disposed to risk theu' money in manures. They are for the most part small pro- prietors, and cultivate their own freeholds by means of their families and a few servants. Often they pay nothing for assist- ance, but do all that is necessary in spare bits of time. It is the relative abundance of hands in France that makes the varieties of cultivation possible. In a workroom, each artisan may be engaged in a different work, without any relation to that of his neighbour ; in a factory, on the contrary, it is absolutely neces- sary that all the occupations should converge to one end. Va- riety of produce is out of the question, but in its place we have quantity. In the same time, or rather on a given area, English cultivation produces more than French ; and this is one ot the prerogatives of a factory over a workroom. If France only pro- duced corn, meat, and beer, like England, its inferiority Avould be great ; it would stand below its neighbour both in the quan- tity and in the quality of its produce. But France produces also large quantities of flax and colza, wine and silk, French plums, raisins, olives, almonds, figs, and oranges, enough to re- establish the balance in its favour. Many of these products
Agriculture in France, 381
succeed better with the concentrated labour of small proprietors than with the half-manufacturing processes of large farmers; and as in a favourable climate a family can live on a small piece of land, many French writers are in favour of small farms. Others prefer large ones. Their differences spring from the latter thinking that the state ought, before all things, to aim at abundance of raw products ; while the former think that progress consists in the fineness and quality of the produce. This result, it is said, is got by small farming, while abundance is secured by large farms. Though the actual quantities produced are greater in small farming, the net produce is greater in large farms. The majority of economists, hoAvever, are agreed that both systems are equally useful, if they are adopted with due regard to local and political circumstances. This theory, set forth with great talent by M. H. Passy in his Systemes de Cul- turey has silenced the disputes which used to be current about the size of farms; and the partisans of the two systems have united in the one effort of forwarding the progress of French agriculture, which is far from having attained the perfection of which it is capable.
It would be a mistake to suppose that these efforts are only of to-day, or of 1815, the opening of the era of peace, or of 1789, the epoch of so many changes. We will not go so far back as to the time of Sully, who used to say that labourers and shepherds were the two breasts of the state ; or that of Colbert, who also patronised agriculture. We find that the French economists of the physiocratic school were the real originators of agricultural progress. During the second half of the eighteenth century they had great influence on public opinion, especially on that of the richer classes and the proprietors, whose expensive habits made them desirous of getting all they could out of their estates. Now, among Quesnay^s general maxims of economic government, the third is, " that prince and people should never lose sight of the fact that land is the one source of wealth, which agriculture is the means of multiplying. For the increase of wealth procures increase of population ; and capital and labour make agriculture prosperous, extend commerce, encourage industry, and increase and secure wealth. From this plenteous source springs the good administration of all parts of the state." The ninth maxim adds, *^ that a nation which has an extensive territory to cultivate, and facilities for maintaining a great commerce in raw produce, should not apply too much capital or too many hands to manu- factures or trade, to the prejudice of the hands or capital em- ployed in agriculture. For the first aim should be to have the kingdom well peopled with rich cultivators.^^ Quesnay adds a note, which we must also translate : " Of all methods of gaining
382 Agriculture in France.
money, there is none better, more profitable, more agreeable, more natural, or more liberal, than agriculture/' Among his disciples were Turgot, the Abbe Beaudau, Mercier de la Riviere, Dupont de Nemours, the INIarquis de Mirabeau, Condorcet, and many other celebrities of the time just preceding the Revolution. Great improvements were introduced into France through their influ- ence : the internal custom-houses were abolished, and the corn- trade became free throughout the kingdom ; a foundation was laid for freedom of manufactures ; commercial treaties were made ; and the breeding of merino sheep and some other agri- cultural improvements were encouraged. But far beyond these results was the influence of the opinions formed by the physio- crats— opinions in which there was much to disapprove, but which aided greatly in destroying prejudices unfavourable to agriculture.
Yet perhaps the physiocrats would not have advanced mat- ters much, had it not been for the Revolution of 1789. We are not here concerned with the political side of the Revolu- tion, but only with its manifold influence on agriculture. Of all the forces it brought to bear on this matter, the chief was the rude shock it gave men^s minds, to awaken them from their slumbers. The reproach of the continental farmer, as of the French peasant, is his invincible spirit of routine. For a long time he never read, never knew how to read ; he only tried to get out of his ground bare necessaries ; and his land, treated stingily and without knowledge, made a stingy answer to his prayer. In the northern provinces it lay fallow one in every three years ; in the south it w as only sown every other year. And whence could the peasant get the idea of progress ? The pamphlets of the physiocrats could never touch him, even if he had been able to read them ; they were not addressed to him ; and before they had time to create a public opinion strong enough to influence him, the tempest came which swept away the upper classes, and transfeiTed the greater part of the land to more greedy and also more industrious hands.
Most people own that it was an act of robbery to deprive the Church and nobles of their lands; but almost every body admits that this robbery was a benefit to agriculture. Still, a few timid doubts may be expressed on this head. It is quite true that a large number of properties have been more profitable to the new than to the old owner; but this advantage has had many draw- backs. First, in many cases the purchaser of one of these biens nationaux, as the confiscated estates were called, was ill at ease in his conscience, and suspected the morality of the transaction. The consequence was that he did not feel quite secure of his title. A counter revolution might come and overthrow it. For
Agriculture in France. S%Z
this reason nobody would pay good coin for these stolen man- sions and forests, fields and meadows. However the king was cursed as a tyrant, his effigy in gold or silver was cherished and hoarded ; but the assignats, the paper money which was decreas- ing in value every day till it came to be worth nothing, were readily paid away for doubtful rights over real property.
We say '^ rights over real property ;^^ for it is certain that for several years the purchasers made scarcely any use of their new acquisitions. They never dreamed of improvements, nor had they the capital to make them. Most of the purchasers were entirely without agricultural knowledge ; and the example of England was of no use to those who were about to wage so long and terrible a war with her — a war which also prevented the introduction of improved breeds of cattle. The peace of 1815, and the much- abused milliard which the Restoration gave as compensation to the emigres, at last gave complete security to the contested titles ; and from 1825, it is said, the change of ownership began to ex- hibit its full benefits. This we may grant, and yet doubt whether the nobles, if they had kept their estates, would have been more slow to move. Without citing the examples of other countries, let us ask, whose names do we generally see figuring in the prize- lists of the French cattle -sho ws ? The Comte de Falloux, the Marquis de Torcy, the Marquis de Vogue, the Comte de Tracy, the Marquis de Dampierre, M. de Behagne, and a number of other men of rank. Can we suppose that the gentlemen of the old regime, influenced by public opinion, incited by example, and stimulated hy want of money, would have been any slower to understand their own interests? No prejudice stood in their way ; it was shameful to trade, but it was not derogatory to a nobleman to improve the income of his property.
There is another point that should be mentioned. It is usu- ally supposed that the subdivision of French properties was a fruit of the Revolution. But we have only to read contemporary writers like Arthur Young or Necker, or to run through the list of indemnities granted to the emigres, in order to see the false- hood or the exaggeration of this view. Before 1789 the number of small proprietors Avas very great. It is true that this number has increased through several causes, one of which is the law^ on
' In the correspondence of Napoleon I. -with his brother Joseph, then king of Naples, we read: "Establish the French civil code at Naples ; and all that does not attach itself to you will be destroyed in a few years, while what you want to keep will be consolidated (by the majorats or entails). This is the great
advantage of the civil code You must establish it in your kingdom ; it will
" consolidate your power, because it undermines every property but the entails, and no great houses will remain but those which you set up as fiefs. This is what made me preach, and induced me to establish, a civil code" (xii. 432). The equal division of lands was previously in use for lands not belonging to the nobles ; and the Emperor only utilised an established custom. His plan was to
384 Agriculture in France,
the equal division of inheritances. This law causes a division of farms, but not to so great an extent as is supposed. The inheritors often prefer to sell the property, either by private contract or by auction, to one of their number, who pays their proportion of the value to the rest.^' Speculation is another cause; a company, nicknamed by its enemies the bande noire, bought large properties, and sold them in lots at a great profit. But we need not balance the good and evil done by this company, when we think how very small was its influence — so small that we only mention it because it made a great noise in the times of the Kestoration.
It is more important to look at the question from a point of view which we do not remember to have seen mentioned. Writers have balanced large against small properties in relation to their productiveness, their political significance, and their bearings on agi'icultural progress, and have given their judgment in accordance with their views on these subjects; but they do not seem to have taken notice of the want of capital at the time of the Revolution. Now, however we may prefer large farms to small, it is clear that it is better to cultivate a small farm with a sufficient capital than a large one without it. As France was then situated, the division of property was in conformity with the smallness of capital.
The result of the Revolution most useful to the farmer is the equitable adjustment of taxation. The taxes are not less; but they are now levied legally and fairly. Many obstacles to pro- gress have also been swept away by the abolition of the rights of mills and ovens, and of several other absurd customs. The night of the 4th of August 1789 was an important epoch for French agriculture. A few days after — on the 11th — the decrees voted on that night were published in form. The first article entirely destroyed the feudal system. The personal feudal rights — those which estabhsh serfage, or confer honourable privileges — were abolished without compensation ; the profitable rights were to be purchased at a price fixed by the National Assembly. Articles 2 and 3 abolished the exclusive right of dove-cotes, the rights of chase and free warren. Article 4 abolished the manorial courts of justice. Article 5 abolished all tithes in the hands of secular or regular corporations, and promised to provide in some other way for the expenses of worship, and for alms to the poor. All other tithes were made redeemable. Article 6 made all other
strengthen his throne by surrounding it with a hundred possessors of majorats. It is surprising that so profound a genius should have thought of building his ^ dynasty on so weak a foundation so few years after Lewis XVI., the sacred ' majesty and inviolable king, liad found thousands of them unable to secure him from the scaffold.
- A farm is rarely divided so as to break up a business; generally it is only the outlying plots of land that are divided.
jigricuUure in France. o85
perpetual rent-charges, whether in kind or money, redeemable. Article 7 abolished the purchase of magistracies and municipal offices. Article 8 suppressed the fees of country parsons, on condition that the increase of their portion congrue, or minimum revenue of 20/., was increased. Article 9 abolished all exemptions from taxation, and declared that the assessment should extend to all citizens and to all kinds of property, and be similar for all. Article 10 abolished the privileges of provinces, districts, and boroughs. Article 11 opened the admission to public offices to all citizens, without distinction of birth. Of course all these articles did not equally affect the progress of agriculture ; but we mention them all to show the nature of the change which the year 1789 must have produced on the popular mind.
Agriculture perhaps was more directly interested^ in the law of the 28th of September 1791, sur les Mens et usages rurauoc. Its first article runs as follows: "The territory of France, throughout its whole extent, is free as the persons that inhabit it; therefore no landed property can be subject to any other usages than those established or recognised by the law, nor to any other sacrifices than those which public utility may require, upon the awarding of a just indemnity." The second article adds : '^ The proprietors are free to vary their crops as they please, and to dispose of all products of their lands within or without the frontiers of France, without prejudice to the rights of others, and in conformity with the laws." We will not quote the other en- actments of the " Rural Code," although such articles as those which allow every proprietor to enclose his estate, those on com- mon rights and the passage of flocks, those on the utilisation of rivers, and the like, are not without importance. In judging of the efifects of the Revolution, it should not be forgotten that France was a country where it was necessary to make a law to authorise the cultivator to change his crops as he pleased.
From this time the coast was clear for the development of French agriculture. What use did it make of the facilities it had gained ? Did it seize them with all the ardour of the na- tional character — with that furia francese which other nations so often sneer at and envy ? Not so. Its ardour carried it to other
' The following is the opinion of M. Lconce de Lavergne on the tithes {Economic rurale, p. 8) : " The suppression of the tithes was really a much less important measure than people think. The burden has been shifted, not abolished; for the expenses of public worship are now nearly 50,000,00 Of., although the promise of 1789, to raise all the country jjarsons' incomes to 1200f., has not been fulfilled. The clergy have lost on the whole about 20,000, OOOf. a year ; but I do not believe the tithe-payers have gained this amount. It would not be difficult to show in our present budget 20,000,000f. less profitably spent than the old tithes. On the other hand, the rent of the land has been generally increased by the amount of the tithes, and the farmers who are not also pro- prietors have gained nothing."
386 Agriculture in France,
fields, which it fertilised Avith its blood, if not with its labour. The wars which desolated Europe during the Republic and the Empire took the labourers from the fields ; and the traveller in 1810, or 1812, or even later, might have seen in Alsace, or Flanders, or Normandy, many a wagon driven by women, and of the other sex nothing but old men and invalided soldiers. This w'as not the season for agriculture to advance. Still the imperial times were not quite destitute of progress. Great at- tention was given to the maintenance and improvement of the main roads — the cross roads came afterwards — and to the construction of bridges and canals. A law was made for the drainage of marshes ; and the continental blockade gave birth to the beetroot-sugar trade, — a proof that there is no wind so ill as not to blow good to somebody.
We do not mean that this was all that the imperial govern- ment did for agriculture. If we may believe an Englishman who travelled through France after 1815, the progress made since the time of Arthur Young was surprising. " We no longer see,'* says he, " the peasants covered with rags, and so miserable that they are only objects of pity. Now they seem well fed and well to do.^^ Of course there was progress ; it is a natural ten- dency of mankind. And those great wars, though they cost much blood, yet carried the French peasants through all the countries of Europe, and showed them how other nations tilled their lands. In their tedious winter- quarters, in their lengthened garrison duties, idleness came to be, for a wonder, the mother of learning ; and many a mind was struck by the processes wit- nessed in foreign countries. So the crusades, though they could not preserve Jerusalem to Christendom, had veiy important indi- rect effects. But we do not thank people for benefits which they did not intend j and governments especially must not take credit for improvements to which they have not directed their efforts.
In England we should be loth to admit that the interference of government could benefit agriculture. It must be left to pri- vate adventurers ; or if it wants any patrons, any persons to watch over its progress, our gentry are fuUy equal to the work. But it is not so in France. Frenchmen are as willing to make sacri- fices as we are ; but the two countries differ in the thing they give. Frenchmen are prodigal of their blood, but sparing of their money. We are prodigal of our money, but parsimonious of our blood. Improvements are expensive. In France only the government will bear their cost. People know that the government has no means except those which it extracts from the pockets of the tax-payers ; but no matter. Any thing whicli bears V attache of the government, which is countersigned by its functionaries, or carries evidence of its presence, is thought more
Agriculture in France, 387
of by many Frenchmen than any thing that depends on private enterprise. It has even been argued that '^ agriculture can only flourish when it is the object of anxious and constant supervision by the government/' We have a better opinion of French agri- culture. AYe consider it perfectly able to walk without leading- strings. It is of age. But still, as there exists in France a complete administrative organisation for the promotion of rural economy, we must give a general account of it as it exists at present, without troubling ourselves to give the exact dates of all its developments.
The ministry of agriculture, commerce, and public works is the organ of the government for this purpose. One of its de- partments oversees the whole province of rural economy, with the aid of a staff of " general inspectors.^' As each farmer may farm as he pleases, the ministry can give no orders. Its only means of persuasion is by its teaching, by encouragements_, by the institutions it founds, and by the laws which it recommends.
As to its teaching, the first attempts at agricultural instruc- tion were made by private persons in France as w-ell as in Eng- land, and even in Germany. Matthieu de Dombasle, the founder of Roville, near Nancy, was the beginner of French agronomic in- stitutes. Roville disappeared from the agricultural firmament after its founder's death, but the Annals of Roville perpetuate its me- mory. Its successors have been Grignon, near Versailles, founded in 1827 by M. Bella, whose son is still at its head; Granjonan, in the environs of Nantes, founded in 1832 by M. Biefiel ; and Le Saulsaie, in the department of the Ain, not very far from the Swiss frontier, founded in 1840 by M. Niviere. These three in- stitutions still exist. In 1848 they passed into the hands of the government as " district schools of agriculture,'^ and now figure in the budget as " imperial schools of agriculture." The change of name is not without significance, and may be easily explained. When private agricultural institutions were seen to flourish in France, pressure was put on the government to make them take up the business. Perhaps the government of July would have yielded. In those days it was the fashion to say that France was an essentially agricultural country. It was the boast of orators who did not know how much better it is for a country to be at once agricultural, commercial, and manufacturing. Now in a country essentially agricultural, it was an essential function of the state to teach agriculture. After the Bevolution of 1848 the new government, it is said, found the plans drawn up. The late M. Thouret, a distinguished agronomist, to whom the chances of politics gave the portfolio of agriculture, had the pleasure of organising a whole system of agricultural instruction. An agro- nomic institute was founded at Yersailles for the scientific studies ;
VOL. IV. d d
388 Jgriculture in France,
the three existing institutions were adopted; it was proposed to found seven or eight more in different districts of France, for middle, or, as the French say, secondary instruction ; and there were to be school-farms'* for inferior, or primary instruction. Of these there was to be one for each of the 86 departments, — or even for each of the 363 arrondissements. But when a law begins its existence on paper, it does not always penetrate into the region of facts. Sometimes the people will not have it; sometimes circumstances prevent it ; sometimes the two obstacles combine. In the present case the organisers of 1848 wanted to go too fast. The pace soon slackened; and now there is no movement at all, at least in this direction. The agronomic in- stitute of Versailles, under the presidency of M. de Gasparin, and with a constellation of brilliant professors, nominated after a competitive examination, had rapidly made itself a great name. Why the imperial government suppressed it, has never been told to the world ; but the consequence of this event is that the secondary institutions have become imperial instead of district schools. At the same time the 49 school-farms passed from the third into the second rank ; and now there is a talk of establish- ing a new third rank by introducing agricultural instruction into the primary schools. It would thus be brought home to all the population. Trials have been made, but on no connected plan. The principle is still a V etude. Besides this symmetrically organ- ised instruction J there are professors of agriculture at Rodez, Be- san9on, Quimper, Bordeaux, Beauvais, Toulouse^ Nantes, Rouen, and Amiens, who sometimes also go on lecturing tours. There are also three veterinary schools supported by the state, at Alfort near Paris, Lyons, and Toulouse.
Without entering into the question whether agricultural instruction is best given by the state or by private enterprise, we may submit that, if the state meddles with the business, it should do it thoroughly. And how can the system be perfect without its head — without the high school which " crowned the edifice''? It was from this establishment that the most im- portant progress radiated. It was there that inveterate pre- judices were most efficaciously combated ; for it was there that the richest, the most intelligent, the most progressive cultivators — the model farmers, whose practice enlightened whole neigh- bourhoods and reversed their routine — received their education. The need seems so great, that we should think an institution of the kind would be supported, even in France, without any assist- ance from the government.
Many people entertain the same opinion of some other estab-
* These farms are private establishments, the proprietors of which receive a salary from the state. The pupils are few, and have to perform manual labour.
Agriculture in France, 389
lishmeiits, whicli belong to the list of means of " encourage- ment" employed by the government ; such as the dairy and sheep farms^ and the breeding-studs. The imperial dairy and sheep farms^ are situated at Moneavril, GevroUes^ Haut Tingray_, Le Pin, St. Angeau, Alfort, Mably, Le Camp, and Trevoux. These are the most important farms; and, with the addition of those of Rambouillet and Vincennes, are the nurseries whence every year come the bulls and rams destined to improve the breeds of cattle. Several of the rams have been sold for high prices, a^d some have been taken to the Baltic provinces. At such prices private enterprise would make a profit. The introduction of sheep of fine fleece dates from the last century,^ and the in- tervention of the government was no doubt useful at first. Soon after the introduction of the merinos, attention was awakened to the remarkable qualities of English breeds, and Gilbert was sent over to report upon them ; but there is no trace of their intro- duction into France at that time. Wollaston, in 1819, was the first to import the Ditchley or New Leicesters ; M. de Morte- mart followed in 1825 ; and the government only took up the matter in 1831. In 1836 the Southdowns, and in 1837 the New Kents, were imported to improve the French breeds. The Dur- ham cattle were introduced in 1823 by Briere d'Azy.
The English thorough-bred horses have been known in France since the seventeenth century; but nothing practical came of it till 1754, when, for a bet, one traversed the forty miles between Fontainebleau and Paris in 108 minutes. But the royal breeding-studs contained not only English stallions, but some from all countries famous for their horses. The Republic suppressed these studs in 1 793 ; Napoleon reestablished them in 1806; and from that time they have been kept up or reorganised, according as the government simply desired to encourage or was ambitious to transform. At the present time the order of the day is encouragement, by letting out good staUions, by giving prizes for grooming and the like, by different recompenses, and especially by the purchase of horses for the army, and even sometimes for the Emperor's stables. Sometimes the govern- ment adds good advice, as may be seen from a passage out of a report of the director of the studs : " Breeders must now see that, in exchange for the encouragements of all kinds given them not only by the state, but by the departments and the towns, they must try to justify the sacrifices and the care be-
5 The state bears the expenses only of the sheep-farms of GdvroUes and Haut Tingi-ay, and of the dairy-farms of Corbon and St. Angeau. The others are chargeable to the Emperor's civil list.
8 It was through the Due Ch. de Trudaine, intendant of finances, and Dau- benton, that merino sheep were introduced into France, in 1766.
390 Agriculture in France.
stowed on them. If they wish to put into their own pockets the miUions which horse-fanciers spend in foreign parts, they must henceforth set themselves to give their produce such qualities as every consumer has a right to demand. When this truth is acknowledged, when the breeders have really entered on the way of progress, the national production will take its eagle-flight, and the horse-breeding trade (Vindustrie chevaline — we are at a loss for plain English to translate the eloquence of this bril- liant Houyhnhnm) will be set on its true basis ; then with more self-confidence, and with intelligence to judge of its own in- terests, it will perhaps be foremost to demand its initiative as ardently as erst it demanded the protection of the state." What would be the feelings of a respectable English farmer thus offi- cially instructed and dictated to by the first clerk of the cattle- market ?
Another means of administrative encouragement connected with the studs is horse-racing. The first race took place in the Plaine des Sablons in 1776. Now there are more than 60 hip- podromes, where there are several races in the year, besides be- tween 80 and 100 courses for steeple-chases and trotting-courses for hacks. Nearly 400 prizes are distributed every year.
But the agricultural shows, where cattle, implements, and produce are exhibited, are of more importance than the races. There are two series of cattle-shows. The first comprises ani- mals for the shambles, beginning with the Poissy show in 1844 — where the most important exhibitions all take place. There are also annual shows at Lyons, Bordeaux, Lille, Nimes, and Nantes. The second series is for breeding animals, beginning with the exposition at Versailles in 1 850, where 63 cattle, 63 sheep, 10 swine, 155 implements, and 90 lots of produce, were exposed. In 1851 there were four exhibitions in different parts of France; in 1852-1857, eight ; in 1859-1862, ten; and in 1863, 1864, twelve. In 1863 the numbers of cattle, implements, and lots of produce were reckoned by thousands. The utility of these shows is undeniable. They are a strong stimulant to some, and an excellent school for others. Moreover these official ex- hibitions are not the only ones. There are numbers of others, less extensive, but as efficacious, organised by agricultural asso- ciations and committees. There are also ploughing -matches and the like, the eflFect of which may be imagined from a fact reported in the newspapers a few months ago. A ])old and hardworking peasant presented himself at a match with his rude ancestral plough; but he was so soon distanced by the improved implements, that he solemnly broke up his old machine and bought a new one. It is thus that progress makes its way, by gradually breaking up routine and prejudice.
Jgriculture in France. 391
These private associations and committees, the number of which amounts to 741, are of incalculable use. They include among their members a large number of small farmers and peasants, who meet at stated intervals to hear a paper read on some question of agriculture, who organise various competitive exhibitions, and who give prizes for all kinds of progress, either out of their private contributions or out of money which the government awards to them. Among these prizes is the whole class of pi'imes d/honneur which the government instituted in 1856, and has since developed. The ministerial circular thus explains the motives and considerations on which the step was taken : ^^Thc competitive exhibition brings out and awards prizes to those specimens of each race which display the best conforma- tion and the most desirable qualities : but the award of the jury is not current beyond the area of the exhibitors. It is based solely on the animal exhibited, without consideration for the con- ditions under which it has been bred, for the system of which it is an expression, for the money which has been expended on it, for the loss or gain which the production of it will bring to the breeder or fatter.^'
The same is true of the agricultural productions. "The economical question, then, is necessarily kept almost out of sight by the juries, when, for instance, they award the prize to the best bull, and point it out to breeders as an example of desirable qualities, without any consideration of the cost of its production. Considered simply as institutions for determining and awarding prizes to absolute perfection, we may say that the competitive exhibitions have fully attained their object, and ful- filled the expectations which the administration had in creating them. But another step may now be taken; and we may con- sider whether a development of the institution, enabling it to em- brace a sphere hitherto beyond its action, would be both useful and easy to accomplish."
The administration thereupon founded a special prize of oOOOf., and a silver cup valued at 3000f., for the agriculturist whose farming was best, and who had brought into operation the most useful improvements. As there are twelve district ex- hibitions every year, there are twelve of these primes d^honneur, "The competition," says the circular of 1856, "is only really and seriously open to proprietors or large farmers, whose culti- vation is both scientific and perfectly adapted to the circum- stances of their locality, economical in cost, and productive in results. The jury, in a word, has not to award a prize for en- couragement, but to recompense a net result, incontestable in its reality, and capable of being appealed to as a model example to show how economy in expenditure, order in labour, perfection in
392 Agriculture in France,
system, the happy alliance of science and practice, and, finally, a proper subordination of system to invincible circumstances, create present prosperity and secure a great future for rural industry." This measure has resulted in giving prominence to many model farms; and if the prizes did not make them well cultivated, they at least brought them forward as examples for emulation.
The expenses of this administrative instruction and encour- agement stand as follows in the estimates of the Minister of Agriculture for 1864 :
Veterinary schools 643,300f.
Imperial schools of agriculture .... 530,600
School-farms, grants to 680,000
Dairy and sheep farms 199,100
Agricultural colonies 30,000
Professors of agriculture 18,300
Inspectors of agriculture 69,000
Encouragements — prizes for competition, \ , ^^^ ^^^w
grants to societies, and the like . . j ' '
Total chargeable to the ministerial budget 3,670,300 Add, expenses of breeding-studs . . . 1,860,000
General total . . 5,530,300
On the other side, we must extract from the same budget cer- tain receipts derived from these establishments, which go towards lessening the above expenditure :
Veterinary schools 390,850f.
Imperial schools of agriculture .... 258,500
National sheep-farms, exclusive of those 1 - « r^r^r.
dependent on the civil list .... J '
National dairy-farm 96,956
Studs 652,460
Total . . 1,450,766
After instruction and encouragement, legislation furnishes the government with its most potent lever for forcing agricul- tural progress. Here our field is large, and we might carry up our history to remote times. But we will confine ourselves to the most recent measures, without going back beyond the last ten years.
The Credit Fonder must head the list, though the company bearing that name was only constituted on the 28th of February 1852. But it would be as idle to make credit on real security depend on that decree, as to make language the invention of the first grammarian. Loans on real securities are almost as old as real property itself; and France has had good experience of
Agriculture in France. 393
them, since she has accumulated a mass of mortgages estimated at 5 milliards by some, and at 12 milliards by others.^ The famous company does nothing but diminish in some measure the rate of interest, and facilitate the paying-off of mortgages. The 5 or 6 per cent annual payment includes a sinking fund, which gradually extinguishes the debt ; and while the mortgager pays his interest duly, the capital remains inconvertibly in his hands, and his mortgage cannot be foreclosed. This was cer- tainly an improvement on the old method of borrowing on mort- gage ; but it did not do much for agriculture. The greater part of the loans was granted to proprietors of houses in towns, and only small sums found their way into farms. Now, since the legislative favour shown to this society regarded solely its utility to agriculture, the object does not seem to be attained. The society itself feels this ; and it has on the one hand petitioned for powers which do not find a place in the original plan, and on the other it has founded a compagnie du credit agricole.
And here let us stop for a moment in our course over what we may call the organisation of French agriculture, to take breath, and make some general observations. We all know the great reproach made against France, of her tendency to centrali- sation. Those who defend this tendency against its vigorous opponents, trust most to the argument derived from national unity which, they say, is due to centralisation. It might be replied, that as this desirable unity was attained it would be proper to decentralise, so as to restore the equilibrium between the centre and extremities. It might be added that England was never centralised, and yet that national unity is as perfect there as in France. There is no greater diflference between the Englishman and Scot than between the Picardian and Pro- ven9al; and more Bretons, Basques, Alsatians, and Flemish^ imable to speak French, may be found, than Irish unable to speak English ; and yet in France there were never such causes of hate as divided the English and Irish. Unity, then, has no- thing to do with the question. And if, by hypothesis, adminis- trative centralisation were still necessary to consolidate political unity, why need this conduct us to the Procrustean bed of eco- nomical centralisation? Is not agriculture essentially decen- tralised? Are not north and south, east and west, subject to difierent influences of soil and climate? Why, then, subject them to precisely the same conditions of labour, credit, produc- tion, and exchange ? Why, of all things, take from those who can
' The Minister of Finance has calculated that the mortgage indebtedness amounts nominally to about 12 milliards ; but there is a great number of merely- formal entries, which do not constitute a real mortgage. The amount to be thus deducted is not known, but is generally estimated at about 7 millions. „
394 JgricuUure in France,
make the best use of it, that institution which was meant especi- ally to aid them in their enterprises, the credit fonder ? What has been the consequence ? This single establishment, produced by the fusion of several similar ones, and centralised at Paris, after languishing through ten years of progress (which, according to the 31onitetir, filled the directors with joy), had come in 1862 to do business to the amount of 120 millions of francs, 33 mil- lions of which were lent to communes, and 86 or 87 millions only on mortgage. Of these 87 millions, only 27 were lent to 560 inhabitants of departments ; so that GO millions were left for Paris ! In old times, when a bank for real secm'ities was as yet reckoned among the pia desideria^ its establishment was asked for in the name of agriculture. Afterwards, when facts had spoken, a special establishment was said to be wanted for this x)urpose, and the credit agricole was founded. And where ? Why, in the centre, at Paris, where there is no agriculture. And so this establishment also is obliged to make a liberal interpre- tation of the word agricole^ to lend upon the security of grain, and to extend its business to such accessory matters as beetroot- sugar manufactories, distilleries, flour-mills, and the like. Let us hope that time and experience will lead to an organisation which will bring the one who does the service into local contact with those who require it.
With excessive centralisation excessive regulation is closely connected. The exaggerated stringency of the law of July 17, 1856, is the cause why so few proprietors have applied for any part of the 100 millions then offered to them. Up to the pre- sent time the sum lent is quite insignificant, in spite of the twenty-five years allowed for gradual reimbursement. In six years thirty-nine proprietors have obtained loans to the amount of 720,750f , applicable to the drainage of 3279 hectares. But 144,216 hectares had been drained up to the 1st of January 1863. If, however, the loan is not much sought after, the gratuitous as- sistance of the imperial engineers is thankfully accepted. Some 30,000 hectares have been drained under their superintendence. There is still much to be done in this way. There is plenty of marsh-land.
Let us omit all measures of secondary importance, and come ut once to the famous letter of January 5, 1860, written by the Emperor to his minister of state. His passion for astonishing the world by unexpected acts is well known. It will be lucky if the new Jove always launches his bolts through a sky as cloud- less, against as real abuses and obstacles to progress. This time it was prohibitions that were struck ; commerce and manufac- tures shared with agriculture the benefits granted or promised. " With regard to agriculture,^' said the letter, '' it must have its
Jgriculture m France. 393
share in the banks for credit. To bring low woodlands under the plough, and to restore the woods on the high-lands ; to set apart a large yearly sum for great works of drainage, irrigation, and reclamation of lands, — these works, by changing barren into well-tilled communes, will enrich the communes without impoverishing the state, which will recover its advances by the
sale of part of the reclaimed land One of the greatest
services that can be done to the country is to facilitate the trans- port of matters of prime necessity for agriculture and manu- facture/' This letter was a kind of preface to the treaty of commerce of January 23, 18G0, and to the law of June 15, 1861, suppressing the sliding- scale, and substituting a fixed duty of 50 centimes to the 100 kilogrammes for corn, as well as to the im- provements set forth in the Mordteur of January 21, and Febru- ary 3, 1860, and November 13, 1863. We will not tire the reader with a list of the projected improvements ; w^e will confine our- selves to saying that, for means of communication, France now possesses 16,988 kilometres of railway, 37,352 of high-road, 561,843 of branch-roads, 1 1,250 of navigable rivers and canals, 11,250 of which are actually traversed by boats.
It would be curious if we could distinguish, in the progress of French agriculture, the improvements due to government, and those due to private enterprise. But it would be impossible. The part taken by the administration is plain enough; for it works solemnly, in the mass, and publishes accounts of its ex- penses. Private enterprise, on the contrary, generally avoids all show, because all that glitters, though not gold, costs gold, and works in detail. But a thousand individuals, each producing 10<r, produce more than one individual producing 1000<^^ This reflection leads us to suppose that, even in France, where the administration does so much, private enterprise does even more.^ The existence of a proverb like aide-toi, le del faidera, ought to make us believe that enterprising men are not so rare in France as is generally supposed.
But, in any case, it is certain that there has been much pro- gress since the beginning of the century, which statistics will enable us to measure, though not without difficulty. Accu- rate returns are almost wanting for one of the two epochs which ■\ve are about to compare. We cannot rely on Arthur Young's
^ For this opinion we need scarcely quote the authority of M. CI. Anth. Costaz, of the Office of Agriculture and Commerce, who, in his History of the Administration {ISS2, t. i. 220, note), says, "The French administration has been too neglectful of the suggestions of enlightened private persons. If it had aided in the execution of projects which a true love of the public welfare had in- spired, our agriculture, in several of its branches, would have developed to a degree that it has not yet reached." It is to be hoped that it has mended in this respect, and no longer despises private suggestions out of love for the public.
396 Agriculture in France.
estimates, anymore tlian on Vauban's. It is not safe to judge a great country by the aspect of a few square leagues. Neither can we rely on the illustrious Lavoisier, though he was deputy and commissioner of the treasury, having previously been farmer- general, a distinguished agricultural economist, and one who had studied political arithmetic all his life. He gives us only an estimate founded on an incomplete inventory. Chaptal, minister of Napoleon I., made a similar calculation, but on dif- ferent data ; and if we would compare the 2/750,000,000f. given by Lavoisier, in 1789, in his Richesse territoriale du Royaume de France, with the 4,678,000,000f. given by Chaptal for 1812, in his book De V Industrie franc.aise, we should first have to make important rectifications. Jb^or instance, Lavoisier excludes from his total both the value of the seed, which Chaptal gives at 381 mil- lions, and the consumption of animals attached to the farm, which Chaptal estimates at 863 millions. Next, if we desire to obtain the value of the actual products of agriculture, in spite of the great statistical works that have been going on for more than twenty years — with a success which some people question — it is still difficult to establish a satisfactory result. As a proof, we will copy from Dr. Maurice Block's Charges de V Agriculture dans les divers Pays de V Europe (1851) some of the estimates based on the official statistics of 1840 :
millions
Ofiicial estimate (very incomplete) . . 4527
Estimate of Dr. Royer (with additions) . 6641
„ „ with labourers' wages 7598
„ of M. Moreau de Tonnes . . 6022
„ ofDr. Maurice Block . . . 7420
In 1852-53 a new official estimate was made, which gave for vegetable produce 5637 millions, and for animals 2716. The official document contents itself with adding these two sums, and making a total of 8353 millions, without thinking of sub- tracting at least 686 millions for forage, and of other similar drawbacks which probably would be found. The actual total then would be at most 7667 millions. But this total does not include the value of brandy, 64 millions (too small a sum, since the brandy exported in 1863 amounted to 67 millions; the actual value of this product is at least 150 millions), beer 63 millions, cider 47 millions, oil 160 millions, and raw silk 66 millions.
The result of estimates of this kind depends on a mass of details, slight differences in which will affect the general totals. For instance, if one statistician took for his unit the price of corn at the barn, and another the price of corn in the market- place, their totals might differ by 50 per cent or more. Again, a statistician, wishing to show the constant progress of French
|
1789. |
1815. |
1859. |
|
. 12f. |
18f. |
30f. |
|
. 5 |
6 |
10 |
|
. 1 |
2 |
5 |
|
. 7 |
4 |
5 |
|
. 25 |
30 |
50 |
|
Total 50 |
60 |
100 |
Agriculture in France, 397
agriculture, begins with Vauban, and goes on to Lavoisier and Chaptal, basing bis continually increasing numbers on tlie au- thority of great names. Now Vauban, taking for his unit the prices of his own day, gives l,301,804,000f. as the value of agri- cultural products. But to cojiipare actual quantities it is clear that we must use the same unit ; and if we multiply by the dif- ference between the old and the new price of corn, we shall find that Vauban's sum represents a produce of 6,295,3 19,000f. !
With all these difficulties in our way, we can only give, with great diffidence, the following comparison, drawn up by the emi- nent economist and practical agriculturist M.Leonce de Lavergne^ who gives the following division of the gross produce of a hectare, or two acres and a half, of land at three different epochs :
Landlord's rent Farmer's profit Miscellaneous expenses Land-tax and tithe Wages
These figures all seem to us too small, though the proportion between the items seems pretty exact. Perhaps the farmer's profit is put rather too low ; but in this particular there are great variations between farm and farm, and district and district. As we find it impossible to estimate the great totals of produce with any more certainty than the celebrated men to whom we have referred, we will confine ourselves to particular tests, which can be based on exact data.
Amongst those in which we can feel most confidence is the census of the population. Now that of 1 789, taken from the registers of taxes, gave the number of inhabitants at 26,363,074. The soil of France had to feed 26 millions of persons ; almost all the corn they consumed was produced in the country. Odessa was not in existence ; the United States were still occupied in healing the wounds of the war of independence ; and the other corn-producing countries were cut oft' from France by the im- perfection of the means of transport. The country was left to itself; and the consequence was thus put by Arthur Young : ^' I am so convinced, by my observations in all the provinces, that the population of the kingdom is out of proportion with its industry and its labour, that I firmly believe it would be stronger and infinitely more prosperous with five million inhabitants less. Through this excess it presents on all sides pictures of misery absolutely incomparable with any degree of happiness it could
398 ^Agriculture in France,
ever have attained, even under the old government. A traveller, without looking- so closely into things as I have done, Avill see unequivocal signs of distress every step he takes/^ Since Arthur Youug wrote thus, the population has risen to 37 millions, and distress has certainly diminished. This fact alone authorises us to say that agricultural produce has increased 50 per cent. The increase of population refutes Arthur Young^s argument ; and ■we believe that a diminution of 5 million inhabitants, with the bad social organisation of the day, would not have made any change in the aspect of the country. In Vauban^s time there were 5 million inhabitants less ; and yet any one who reads his Dime rot/ale can see that the distress was portentous, and pro- bably greater than about 1789.
The increase of population must have gone hand in hand with an increase of land under cultivation, or an increase in the production per acre, or perhaps both. The returns confirm this conclusion. In 1815, 4,591,000 hectares were sown with corn; in 1829, more than 5 millions; in 1852, 6 millions; and now there are more than 6,700,000 hectares. Corn has gained about half a million of hectares from rye, which now only takes two millions of hectares instead of two and a half; but it has made still greater inroads on the low woodlands, the downs, and heaths. This is one explanation of the increase of population ; but there is also another. According to official tables, the mean produce of the hectare between 1815 and 1820 oscillates about 10 hectolitres; at present it varies from 16 to 17; and we sus- pect that these figures are too small. The produce, then, has more than doubled within the last forty or fifty years, and cer- tainly the people are better fed. In good years there is even an excess for exportation. We reckon that since 1819 the exports in years of abundance have been about 24 or 25 millions of hec- tolitres ; while in short years, which have been more frequent, the imports have been from 58 to 59 millions. This great im- portation seems to prove that the population has been in easy circumstances enough to pay the high price of imported grain.
The productiveness per acre has increased partly by better farming, deeper ploughing, a more rational rotation of crops, or adaptation of them to the soil, and especially by the increase of manure. We speak now like certain agricultural economists, who look upon cattle only as so many producers of manure ; but the increase of domesticated animals would be a benefit, even if we put out of consideration the manure they produce. It is a remarkable fact that cattle have multiplied in France faster than men. Thus, the numbers of horses were, in 1812, 2,122,617 ; in 1840, 2,818,400; in 1850, 2,983,966. Horned cattle in 1812 were 6,681,952; in 1829, 9,130,652; in 1839, 9,936,538; in
Agriculture in France. ^1^
1852, 11,285,098. Sbeep in 1829 were 29,130,233; in 1839, 32,151,430 ; 1852, 33,510,531. Swine in 1839 were 4,910,721 ; and in 1852, 5,082,141.- The progress is most remarkable in horned cattle ; the increase is both absolute and relative. For every 100 hectares, there were 13 such cattle in 1812, 17 in 1829, 19 in 1839, and 21 in 1852 ; for every 1000 inhabitants, there were 229 such cattle in 1812, 280 in 1829, 290 in 1839, and 314 in 1852. In sheep the numerical increase has been less remarkable ; but a great number of flocks have been much improved, and ordinary races replaced by good breeds. The horned cattle have been also improved, and their mean weight increased, partly by crossing, partly by improved feeding.
Thus we see that while the population has increased about 40 per cent, the production of grain has increased some 50 per cent, and that of animals probably still more, if we take account of their increased weight. But our picture of the progress of agriculture is not yet finished, because a quantity of new crops have been introduced. AVe will give two instances. The potato, which the people were so slow to adopt from Parmentier, backed by Lewis XVI., covered half a million hectares in 1815, and now covers a million hectares of the surface of France, which seems elastic enough to find room for all new crops. Our second instance is beetroot for sugar, the produce of which amounted last year to 170,000,000 kilogrammes of sugar. It is clear, moreover, that the sources of employment have multiplied ; for the wages of 95 centimes, which Arthur Young considered a high average for France, have, in spite of the increase of population, reached an average of If. 41c. according to the official tables, and If. 50c. according to general opinion. And this rise of wages has taken place in the teeth of a great number of improved implements introduced into husbandry. The 203 scarifiers, extirpators, and other implements with many teeth, counted up in 1852, are recent innovations. The 58,444 threshing-machines moved by horse-power, and the 1737 steam-machines which were going in the same year, had all been introduced within the last fifteen years. In 1862 the numbers were much larger. Steam-mowing and reaping-machines, and the steam-plough, have been intro- duced more recently ; and yet we hear the same complaints of the insufficient number of labourers. Will this want be any barrier to further progress ? We do not think so. Machinery has by no means done all it can do ; there is many a benighted farmer sliU left in France. If it be objected that the numberless small proprietors can never purchase such expensive implements, we may make two distinct replies. First, small proprietors of this kind do not want these implements. They are not the persons who complain of the want of hands ; they rather com-
400 Agriculture in France.
plain of the want of land. Secondly, there are already persons in several districts of France, as in England, who do agricul- tural work by contract, and carry their moveable engine and their threshing-machine from village to village. The number of these men may be increased; and their increase will be of special service to proprietors of the second class, who, with those of the first class, make the loudest lamentation over the emigration of rural labourers into the towns.
This desertion of the country is no special characteristic of France, neither is it confined to one epoch. It was talked of even before 1789, though the existence of trading monopolies and guilds, and the almost total absence of manufactories, made it much more difficult to find employment in towns than it is now. But nowhere were the complaints so loud as in France. Arthur Young, who considered the towns to be too thinly scat- tered and too small for the population of so large a country, would have been much astonished at these complaints. He thought that it was the net produce which enriched the cultivators, and that this net produce was composed in part of what other people gave them for their grain, their vegetables, their wine, their fruit, and their meat. Agriculture, he said, — and most people have said the same after him, — has need of consumers to make it prosper. This axiom is elementary, evident, and uncontro- verted by the opposite considerations which are brought against it. It might, if necessary, be proved by statistics. The depart- ments where agricultural production is most advanced are almost always those where manufacturing industry is most developed. Such are the departments of the Nord, the Lower Seine, the Pas de Calais, the Seine and Oise, Seine and Marne, and so on. Those where agriculture is poorest, such as the Lozere and the Lot, are also the least industrial. It is unlucky that material and moral prosperity do not seem to go hand in hand. One of the great problems of the day is to find means to remedy this misfortune.
This migration into the towns must not be confounded with the migrations of labourers from one district to another for hay- making, harvest, or vintage. A statistical enquiry into this subject shows that 266,769 men and 98,328 women emigrate periodically from poorer districts to look for work in richer ones, while 529,509 men and 353,891 women immigrate into the richer districts during the harvest and vintage. The immense difierence between these figures may be explained partly by the number of Belgian and other foreign labourers whose emigration is not noted, and partly by the fact that the labourer Avho only emigrates from one place immigrates successively into several. With the multiplication of locomobile machinery the numbers
Agriculture in France, 461
of these nomad labourers will diminish, and they will be forced to look for new employments, which they will probably have little difficulty in finding.
We have not yet, however, exhausted our list of tests whereby we can measure the progress of agriculture ; but, in order not to multiply figures, we will only add one fact. In 1821 the Minister of Finances had an estimate made of the selling value of the land, houses, and buildings; and the total amounted to 39,514,000,000f. In 1851 another estimate was made; and the result gave a total of 83,744,000,000f The value, therefore, had more than doubled ; yet in 1851 the country had not recovered from the panic of 1848. And we should not be going beyond the mark to estimate the total for 1863 at 120 milliards. This sum includes all real property in town or country. In 1851, out of the 834 milliards, about QQ represented farm-property ; so that, it is clear, the value of this kind of property had quite kept pace with that of houses.
We consider that French agriculture has by no means reached the perfection it is destined to attain to. Private enterprise is taking every day a more important place in it. It is already on the watch to note the progress made in other countries. It is ready to adopt or to try any new processes which promise to be improvements. By degrees we shall see the administration beaten in the race by some enterprising and ardent agriculturists; and after a time its business will be confined to noting and acknowledging the progress made, and, if it still likes solemn parade, to distributing its primes d'honneur.
[ 402 ]
THE BANK CHARTER ACT.
[COMMirMCATED,]
No measure, probably, has ever had so much good and evil said of it, without any real understanding of its true character, as the famous Bank Charter Act of 1844. It has been the inces- sant subject of passionate comment for many years. Committees of the Houses of Parliament have sat in judgment upon it; hosts of witnesses, many of great commercial and intellectual emi- nence, have recorded their opinions on its presumed effects; ponderous Blue-books have thrown multitudes of questions and answers upon the world; — and yet to this very hour scarcely any two men are agreed as to its nature, its provisions, or its working.
This fact is surpassingly strange, yet it has an easy explana- tion. The Bank Act of 1844 was the child of theory, whilst, in fact, its enactments are peculiarly practical, and are scarcely tainted with any colour of theory. It has been loudly pro- claimed in the name of theory, and as loudly assailed on grounds of theory. Angry combatants have fought over it in defence of conflicting views ; and the last thing they have thought of has been to study and discover its true nature by what it enacts, instead of by the doctrines which it was supposed to contain. And thus it has happened that its real character has remained obscured and buried under the weight of irrelevant controversy.
It is a very characteristic illustration of the sort of discussion which has raged so long about this unhappy statute, that when its reputed parent was asked at the opening of his examination by the chairman of the committee of the House of Commons, in 1857, whether the enactments which he enumerated were not the leading provisions of the Act, Lord Overstone, instead of giving a direct answer to the question, instantly flew off into theory, and that, as wc shall show presentl}^, a most unintelligible and ludicrous theory. He would not consent to discuss what the mea- sure was; he would have nothing but doctrines on currency and banking; and what sort of things currency doctrines have been the world by this time has learned by a miserable experience.
It is our object in the present article to clear up, if possible, the existing confusion, and to extricate from beneath the accu- mulated rubbish the true nature and character of the Bank Act of 1841. To this end, we shall first of all state the posi- tive enactments of the Act, such as they are in themselves, independently of every theory, whether of friends or opponents ; and that done, we shall endeavour in the next place to put
The Bank Charter Act. 403
such an interpretation on its provisions as is suggested and warranted solely by what tliey prescribe, equally without re- ference to any doctrines of currency or banking which that interpretation may confirm or impugn. When we have thus obtained a clear view of the Act, — the true Act, and not the imaginative and fictitious creation of currency mystics, — we shall notice some of the extravagant assertions which, have been made as to the design and import of this mea- sure.
The main enactments of the law of 1844 on the Charter of the Bank of England are five.
1. It separates the function of the issue of bank-notes from the banking business of the Bank of England.
2. It ordains that the Bank of England shall assign fourteen millions of government securities to the Issue Department, and shall receive from it fourteen millions of bank-notes ; and it orders that department to issue to the public notes for any quan- tity of gold-bullion which may be lodged with it for the purchase of such notes, and to repay sovereigns on demand for all notes presented to it by the public.
3. It limits the issues of notes by country banks, according to the average of their circulation up to a certain time.
4. It prohibits the establishment of new country banks of issue.
5. It provides that, if any of the country banks should cease to issue notes, the Bank of England shall be authorised to issue notes, without any deposit of securities or bullion, to the extent of two-thirds of the lapsed issues of such country banks.
It is plain, from the first clause of this statement, that the Bank of England is placed by this law upon the same footing as every other bank in the kingdom. It is only the largest bank amongst many others, with a special and very big customer — the Government. On the other hand, the Issue Department is really and truly made an office of the state, working by purely mecha- nical rules — an automaton, whose movements are destitute of all volition and control, obeying a fixed self-acting rule, without intellect, thought, or opinion. The Bank of England supplies the requisite machinery to this automaton : it furnishes premises, clerks, ledgers, paper, vaults, and pens and ink, and then leaves it to act of itself That department, working thus in certain rooms provided by the Bank of England, simply responds to the impulses impressed on it by the public. When five sovereigns are dropped into its hand, a note is mechanically passed across the counter. When the same note reappears on another day, the operation is reversed : the sovereigns are given out ; the note is called in and cancelled. And this action the automaton
VOL. IV. e e
404 The Bank Charter Act.
repeats as often as any living mortal sets it goiog by the pre- sentation of a note or sovereigns.
In the rooms allotted to the automaton, the governor of the Bank of England, or any of its directors, stands on precisely the same level as every other member of the community. He can get notes for his gold, or gold for his notes. He can obtain supplies for his bank, the Bank of England, in identically the same way as the chairman of the London and Westminster Bank, or Smith, Payne, and Smiths procure the supplies they need, whether of gold or notes. In the Issue Department of its pre- mises, the Bank of England appears as a private bank, and abso- lutely as nothing else. It can give no order whatever about the notes issued under its name, and can in no manner whatever control or guide the action of the automaton.
It is much to be regretted that the Act did not bestow a distinct and independent name on the office which was to exer- cise the function of issue. Its framers evidently had not thought out their own enactments to the bottom ; they did not fully per- ceive that they were creating an absolutely separate and inde- pendent body. The names of Banking and Issue Departments, coupled with the fact that the bank-note still carries the name of the Bank of England on its front, and is signed in behalf of that corporation, have perpetuated the illusion that the thing done was the division of one and the same body into two subordinate de- partments; a most thorough error, the prolific parent of con- tusion of thought, endless labyrinths of theorj^, and intermin- able lengths of most unprofitable questions and answers. Only those who have travelled much in these regions can be aware of the frightful and wearisome absurdities which have been generated by the absence from the Act of a positive declaration that it was creating a new body with a new name. The omission of every allusion to the Bank of England in the automaton's note would have rescued countless minds from hopeless perplexity. There were excellent reasons why the business of issuing the public notes should be continued on the premises of the Bank of Eng- land ; for it had the means of doing the work more cheaply than any other body could have done it, and the convenience both to the Bank and the great money-dealers in the City of having immediate access to the stores of gold and notes is immense. But there was no valid reason for not giving an independent title to the new establishment of issue. Till general use has sanctioned some other name, we propose to designate the Issue Department by that of the " bank mint ;'' for in reality it is a mint which has lodgings at the Bank.
The second provision of the Act, first of all, gives to the Bank of England the profit of the dividends on the securities lodged at
The Bank Charier Act. 405
the bank mint for the fourteen millions of notes which are given to the Bank. The remainder of the public get no profit from the bullion which they deposit with the mint_, in return for the notes procured by its means ; they simply obtain, in return for the lodg- ment of an expensive commodity, a voucher or warrant, which is empowered to circulate as legal tender for the payment of debts. That voucher, the bank-note, possesses qualities which in many of the transactions of commerce confer a great superiority on it over coin. It is far lighter in weight, is more easily carried and guarded, is more rapidly counted and dealt out, and, by means of the number it bears, admits of being more readily traced and pro- tected. It is certain, therefore, that there will always exist a considerable demand for such paper currency in preference to coin ; and the Act, by providing for its issue, satisfies an acknow- ledged and legitimate want of the public.
It is further clear that the bullion deposited in the bank mint furnishes complete security for the payment of all notes presented to the mint, as far as it goes ; but there is an admitted ambiguity as to the provision made for the solvency of the four- teen millions, which were assigned to the Bank of England against the deposit of government securities, and which will remain un- covered by sovereigns when the vaults of the mint have been emptied. The question can arise only on the occurrence of one or other of two very improbable suppositions : the quantity, namely, of bank-notes desired by the public sinking below fourteen mil- lions, or a bankruptcy of the Bank of England with less than 20s. in the pound for its creditors. In the case of either of these two events, it is not clear to whom the securities deposited at the Bank belong, — whether to the mint, which could sell them at its pleasure, or to the Bank of England, and, by implication, to its creditors. The construction which ought to be placed upon the Act is confessedly obscure, and opinions seem to be about equally divided on the point. Our own leads us to the belief that these securities are specifically pledged to the note-holders, and could not be claimed as an asset of the Bank by its creditors in the event of bankruptcy ; but a legal judgment alone can de- cide the point. The public, however, may console itself with the reflection, that the historically unbroken credit of the Bank of England, and the improbability of a foreign invasion, divest the danger of all practical importance ; though we do not think it quite so impossible that the day may come when less than fourteen millions of bank-notes may not become enough for the wants of the public by the multiplication of banking expe- dients. In such case, the question will be easily solved by some enactment respecting the disposal of these securities.
It is certain, therefore, that the portion of the circulation of
406 The Bank Charter Act.
Bauk-of-England notes above fourteen millions, and, if the opi- nion of ^Ir. Hubbard and other eminent witnesses as well as our own is correct, the whole amount of that circulation is covered, in respect of solvency, by an adequate protection; and more- over gold is actually provided, ready for immediate payment, for every note above the fourteen millions. These are the direct enactments of the Act.
And further, — and this is a point of extreme importance for theoretical discussion, — it is manifest that no restriction of any kind is placed on the issues of Bank-of-England notes by the Act of 1844 — no limitation whatever of their numbers. If the public chooses, it may get 100 millions of these notes. It must buy them with gold, no doubt, or, if the phrase is preferred, it must deposit gold against their issue. But if any causes placed any large quantity of bullion in the hands of the public, and it was stored away at the mint in exchange for vouchers or notes, the Act of 1844 imposes no limitation whatever on the numbers of the notes which may be thus obtained from the bank mint. A¥e say nothing in this place as to the probability of such an oc- currence, nor of the causes which may lead to it, nor of the results it may generate. Our business here is simply to ascertain what the Act enacts or permits. It may be said, of course, that the expensiveness of the notes — the sovereigns required to obtain them — constitute a very real limitation on their numbers. This may be so ; only, if there be such a limitation, it is one of the same kind identically as the limitation on demand imposed by the costliness of champagne or grapes, or any other commodity. On this point we shall have more to say presently.
The third provision of the Act left the notes of country bankers in circulation in 1844 untouched. Their numbers cannot be increased ; but they were allowed to circulate as before, with no other provision for their solvency, or for the reserve of gold to be kept in hand for paying them on demand, than what existed be- fore the passing of the Act. Any of these country banks of issue may still fail, and, as far as the law goes, may pay their note- holders half-a-crown in the pound.
But the fourth provision, along with the prohibition of in- creased numbers in the third, arrests the growth of such a sys- tem, and renders its ultimate extinction, by amalgamation or other processes, highly probable. Country banks of issue, like every thing else, come to an end; and, as they cannot revive in their progeny, the race, if the law continues unchanged, is doomed to disappear.
Such are the facts of the law. What is their interpretation? What principles do they embody ? Of what elements are they composed ?
The Bank Charter Act. 407
It is a law on currency : to the science of currency, therefore, must it be taken to be measured and judged. The value of the judgment pronounced will consequently depend on the accuracy with which the science of currency is understood by the judges. But, alas, where shall we find these judges ? From which school shall we select them ? Who shall give us a clear and intelli- gible statement of the teaching of that science ? And yet we cannot pronounce upon the law of 1844 without some definite rule to apply to it ; so we must lay down for ourselves and our readers the principles of currency on which our decision will be founded. We shall not prove them here by a formal in- vestigation ; we shall simply state them in the form in which we hold them.
Currency is the science of the instruments of exchange, and of nothing else. Such instruments have been devised for two purposes: to supersede barter, which is incompatible with the existence of a large society and the progress of civilisation, and to furnish a measure by which the value of all commodities shall be ascertained. For these ends, a single commodity, generally gold or silver, is selected, with which every form of property is compared; so that value comes to mean the quantity of one commodity which is equivalent to a quantity of another. The value of a bale of cotton means in England the quantity of gold which is given in exchange for it, or its equivalent; and just as the gold measures the cotton, so the cotton measures the gold. The two commodities stand upon a perfect level; and the re- spective amounts of each given in exchange, one for the other, are determined solely by the intrinsic worth of each, by their ultimate cost of production. If cotton becomes more plentiful, gold remaining the same, more cotton is given for gold ; the price of cotton falls : on the other hand, if gold is produced in greater abundance and cheapness — cotton standing still — more gold will be required as a set-off" for the cotton; the price of cotton rises, or, in other words, the price of gold falls. This relative cost of production alone regulates prices ; and the selec- tion of one of the commodities, gold, as the standard and measure of value, has not a particle of influence on the determination of prices. Currency has nothing to do with the regulation of prices; it merely supplies the rule or instrument of measure.
To meet the convenience and the wants of daily buying and selling, small portions of this measuring commodity, of fixed weight and quality of material, are made and authenticated by a government stamp, and are called pounds, shillings, and so on ; mere names, which determine nothing as to their value, nothing as to the amount of commodities which the owners of all other property will give for them. These small instruments of exchange,
408 The Bank Charter Act,
these coins, are pure machines made to perform a certain work, in the same manner identically as ploughs are constructed for tillage, carriages for conveyance, chairs to sit upon, and watches to measure time by ; they are all machines for effecting a particular duty ; and there is absolutely no difference between coins and any of the rest, except in the particular kind of work they are employed to accomplish. And as there may be too many ploughs on a farm, too many carriages in a gentleman's stables, and too many chairs in a room, so there may be too many coins in a given country; too many, that is, for the work they have to do, for the exchanges which require to be effected by them. A gentleman may have more sovereigns than he can conveniently carry ; a shopkeeper may be inundated with shil- lings ; a bank may be gorged with gold that it cannot use. In all such cases the result is one and the same : the surplus coin gravitates to some common reservoir, where it lies useless, and as destitute of all action or effect as the superfluous harrows that slumber under a farmer's shed. These coins may equally be too few as well as too many ; an occurrence which frequently befalls shillings, and very rarely sovereigns, in particular locali- ties in England. As a fact of experience, and wholly irrespec- tively of theory, we hold it to be certain that since 1819 gold has always been in excess in England — that there has always been more gold in this country than is wanted for carrying on ex- change and the general business of the people, including the fitting reserve which all bankers must keep as a natural part of their stock in trade.
In no civilised country can all the exchanges of property, all purchases in shops and warehouses, be carried on by the agency of coin alone. Property is bought and sold by means of bills, of cheques drawn on bankers, and, most of all, of book-credit — that is, items of debt entered in the books of traders. These are not actual payments, real exchanges of one commodity for another, but mere promises to pay, pledges for payment enforced by law, for which it is found men are willing to give away their goods. Some of these instruments of exchange, such as bills, and not Tinfrequently cheques, are passed on from hand to hand before they are finally presented for a real payment in gold : and as in this way they effect many exchanges before they are ultimately extinguished, it is obvious that these instruments collectively supersede to an enormous extent the otherwise inevitable use of coin; whilst they possess this transcendent economy, that the bits of paper they are written on cost nothing, whilst the coins they supersede would have been necessarily purchased from abroad with a heavy cost of English jiroducts and capital. They furnish also the additional advantage, that they avoid the loss,
The Bank Charter Act. 409
whicli is by no means inconsiderable^ of tlie wear and tear of the metal whicli it suffers in daily circulation.
The one distinguishing characteristic of these mere promises to pay — these bills, cheques, and book-credits — is, that the accept- ance of them is entirely voluntary on the part of the creditor ; no man being obliged to take them as a legal discharge of his debt. Bat there is a variety of the cheque which occupies a partially different position — the bank-note, the public cheque, so to say, which a banker draws upon himself, and promises to pay in coin on demand. In essence it is identical with the private cheque, being merely a promise to pay, and effecting exchanges of pro- perty in precisely the same manner, and frequently not circu- lating, before its cancelment, through so many hands as many a private cheque. But it is also invested with a sort of semi-pub- lic character. As a rule, the private cheque does not circulate ; it effects one purchase or aggregate of purchases, and is immedi- ately sent in for payment. The reason of this fact is plain. The value of the private cheque depends on the solvency of a private person, and the state of his account at his banker's ; and for the mass of men this is too frail a protection against non-payment to allow of this cheque being long kept in circulation. It is otherwise with the bank-note. The Bank is a semi-public in- stitution ; whilst the immense superiority of the note over the sovereign in convenience, portableness, and security against rob- bery, induces the public to employ it in preference to the sove- reign. It circulates, therefore, in town and market; and its acceptance is scarcely voluntary ; for a tradesman vrho should refuse to take the notes current in his locality would expose him- self, not only to ill-will and want of custom, but often to positive inability sell his goods. To this half-compulsory character the state has added, in the case of the Bank-of-England note, the quality of legal tender; that is, the full compulsory obligation on every creditor to accept it as the discharge of his debt.
It is obvious that the worth of a promise to pay consists in the certainty of payment when demanded. As the law compels no one to accept a private cheque, it is the business of the man who gives property in exchange for it to consider for himself the prospects of payment. It is his affair to weigh the value of the signature, and the chances of there being money in the signer's account at the bank. But the public cannot easily act thus with a bank-note ; they are more or less obliged to take the notes in circulation : and in the case of the Bank-of-England note, they must perforce accept it. Hence the need of some legal provision to ensure the solvency of the public cheque or note ; and on one point of this provision all the world is agreed. The only means for keeping the value of the promise on a level with the actual
410 The Bank Charter Act,
payment is the peremptory obligation on the issuer to pay it on demand. Without complete convertibility, the promise to pay is insecure, and immediately becomes exposed to a peculiar and formidable danger. The utmost harm of superfluous sovereigns is that they are compelled to lie idle; they are expelled, like drones, from the circulation, and are sent to sleep in the cellars. But inconvertible notes, green-backed promises to pay for which no payment can be demanded, may be sent forth in unlimited numbers, and, which is the pinch of the matter, stay out in unli- mited numbers. If a tradesman finds that twenty sovereigns will do the day^s work of his till, and he has thirty, he will send oft' ten to his banker, who will forward them to the cellars in Thread- needle Street. No more sovereigns remain out than there is work for. But if the notes are issued as they are now by the American government, and, the valve opening one way only, cannot be sent back again when not wanted, they quickly expand into excessive numbers, far beyond what the exchanges to be effected require. Hence every holder is anxious to part from them, and, finding no outlet, consents to part from them at a loss ; they sink to a discount, and there is no fixed limit for that discount if the inconvertible issues are continued.
Convertibility, then, or the obligation to pay on demand under pain of bankruptcy, is acknowledged to be the one vital indis- pensable condition for a paper currency which shall remain on a level with coin, and shall guarantee its holders against w^hat really can hardly be called less than robbery. But other con- ditions for a paper circulation have come under discussion ; we shall notice some of these when we speak in detail of the provi- sions of the Bank Act of 1844.
Such is the substance of the science of currency, — such the rule by which we purpose to judge the enactments which we have to consider. We now proceed to perform this task.
1. The first feature which this Act presents to the enquirer is the very marked characteristic, that it is purely and exclusively a currency law. Its first deed is to cut currency and banking clean asunder, thereby acknowledging one of the most funda- mental principles of currency. It creates an establishment of currency, taking away from a bank — the Bank of England — all control over the management of the currency, and erecting in its place a manufactory of currency, a mint, a factory and shop for the production and sale of certain machines. The bank mint which it establishes is a genuinely sister institution to the Royal Mint of the government. The one sells pure metal only; the other two sorts of machines — one of paper, the other of metal. The regulations vary only in the necessary details and adapta- tions ; in principle, in essence, in action on commerce, the two
The Bank Charter Act. . 411
institutions are perfectly alike. There is not a trace of banking from the first to the last line of the statute ; it is a set of mint regulations — nothing more. No one has ever said that the issue of sovereigns and shillings by the Royal Mint has any thing to do with discount or rates of interest, or banking reserves, or supplies of capital to the public ; and no one ought ever to have said that the bank mint has any relation whatsoever to these matters. The banker^s trade is one thing ; the supply of instruments of exchange — of coin, or its special substitute, the note — is an- other. No one has ever connected the building of steamers with deposits and commercial crises or tight money markets ; and no one ought ever to have connected them with the fabrication and sale of those particular machines which transfer property from one man to another, just as cranes haul cargoes out of ships. The Act of 1844 does not contain one single word of encourage- ment or sanction for such a delusion. And yet is it not marvel- lous that the Committees of the House of Commons, which were appointed for the very purpose of examining the character and effects of this statute, never from first to last understood its exclusively manufacturing and shopkeeping nature? Members and witnesses alike, all came to the investigation incurably tainted with the belief that the Act had banking effects ; that somehow it had influence on the supplies of capital in the money market ; that it had peculiar effects on trade ; and that, in one way or other, it was something different from the ma- chinery which made hats or manufactured yarns, or supplied any other want of civilised society. Had it been clearly per- ceived that currency has no more to do with banking than with brewing, that vast multitude of questions and answers under which the Committee groaned for so many days during the two years of enquiry would have been nipped in the bud and never have come into existence. It would have been seen that, with very few exceptions, the attention of the Committee had been occupied with totally irrelevant matter, — with investigations which might just as rationally have been addressed to the car- pet or to the cotton trade as to the Act of 1844. Enquiries into crises, difficulties of discount, pressure on banking reserves, mercantile credit, over-speculation and over-trading, and rates of interest charged by the Bank of England, would have been at once struck out from an investigation which had to con- sider a regulation of currency. No wonder, therefore, at the perplexity which presses so uncomfortably on the reader as he goes over the subtle but- most misty utterances of so many emi- nent men. The very subtlety and acuteness of their intelligence only seem to involve their thoughts in still deeper obscurity ; for when once launched on a false hypothesis, when hopelessly com-
412 The Bank Charter Act.
mitted to the assumption that phenomena of banking were re- lated to currency, the power of their minds produced only a succession of desperate plunges, to escape from the confusion which they were conscious of labouring under. An error in a primary premiss always generates a long progeny of disorder; and there is scarcely one of these many thousand questions and answers which did not feel the effects of the original sin.
2. We remark, secondly, that this bank mint is not under the control of the government ; this is an enormous merit. B-easons for and against placing the issue of bank-notes in the hands of a bank, or of a private company constructed for that special purpose, may be urged with real force on both sides ; but not a single good reason can be pleaded in defence of a direct issue of promises to pay by a government. The vital condition of convertibility would be destroyed at the core. The promises of a government to pay on demand are the worst that can pos- sibly be conceived. There is a perpetual power, through sheer strength or immoveableness, not to fulfil the promise; and no adequate force can be framed which can at all times be relied on for compelling a government to provide money when demanded. A bank or a private company may be declared bankrupt, and to them bankruptcy is ruin ; but a government would bear with great equanimity the reproach that there was no gold in store for its notes. The medieval kings made no scruple of adulterat- ing the coin of the realm ; modern governments are very lax about making good their obligations to pay notes on demand. Austria and America have shown very conspicuously how much can be done in that direction. An English government, suddenly obliged to send a large military chest abroad, would find little difficulty in persuading a parliament bent on war that the best thing to be done was to send the currency reserves to Malta or Canada. Currency would be swamped in politics, and a safe circulation of paper would be at an end. The automaton created by the Act is, no doubt, an institution of the state; for it has no connection with the Bank of England, and it derives its powers and organisation from the law alone. But it is an automaton ; and its unintelligent self- working machinery lies locked up in a case, of which the government does not, and it is to be hoped never will, possess a key.
3. Thirdly, it is plain that the fundamental principle of per- fect convertibility is thoroughly carried out by the Act of 1 844. This is the essence of a sound paper currency ; and it is not to be disputed that, in this respect, the Act of 1844 conforms to the requirements of the highest science. Fourteen millions of notes are made safe by the deposit of seciuritics, pledged, as we believe, for their protection ; and the remainder of the notes possess an
The Bank Charter Act, MS
equal amount of precious metal, ready at a moment's notice to be produced, and under positive orders of ]aw to be paid over to any holder claiming tbeir redemption. The reserve is of the amplest, and is always at hand. Anxiety is out of the question ; for it is barely possible that the public should ever require so few as fourteen millions of bank-notes. It is too useful, too convenient a currency, too admirably fitted a machinery for the settlement of accounts in the throng and stir of the City, not to be in large and perpetual demand. The automaton is an in- surmountable bulwark against the robbery and the disasters of inconvertible notes.
4. Fourthly, the Act provides a reserve of gold to meet notes presented for payment — a perfectly ample reserve, as we have just stated ; and it regulates the action of that reserve by a novel and peculiar arrangement. Inconvertible notes require no re- serve, for there is no obligation in their case to fulfil the pro- mise to pay ; but convertible paper of necessity implies a reserve, a supply of gold that shall be equal to the demand, not only of ordinary, but also of extraordinary times. The Act of 1844 de- termines this reserve by the fixed and unchangeable adjustment of a line drawn at fourteen millions (strictly, now, fourteen and a half millions) of notes, for which solvency, but not gold, is pro- vided, and a compulsory deposit of gold for every pound above these fourteen millions. It assumes that such a reserve will be sufficient for all possible demands ; and it is incontestable that this assumption is well founded.
But here two very important and very debateable questions immediately arise. First : is the drawing of a fixed line, beyond which all issues of notes must have a foundation of gold in the cellar, the best and most efficient machinery for managing the reserve ? and, secondly, is fourteen and a half millions the true point at which the Act ought to have drawn the line ?
The first question, the fixed line or limit, is resolved at once in the affirmative, if the method of a self-acting machine, an automaton, is adopted for the issue of bank-notes : it is the sim- plest, the most direct, and the least complicated arrangement which could be applied to such a brainless organisation. But it is otherwise if the issue is allotted to a bank, or a special com- pany, or any other intelligent body. A fixed line, on the very face of the matter, implies a reflection on the wisdom or the intelligence of the issuer, a distrust of his prudence and judg- ment. As such it is indefensible; because it involves the ad- mission, that the mind selected for the control of the issues is in reality unfitted for the task. It contains a contradiction in principle ; and all contradictions generate evil. It is easy to per- ceive the absurdities which it would perpetrate. The reserve
414 Tlie Bank Charter Act.
must be prepared to face all possible demands; and the fixea limit, if sound, must be so drawn as to have a supply of metal for the maximum of demand, for the largest quantity of gold which the public may require. No one needs to be told that such a quantity immensely exceeds what is asked for in calm and steady times ; and what sense would there be in requiring an experienced and intelligent issuer to bury in lock*ed-up vaults treasure capable of being applied to purposes profitable both to himself and the community ? A very bad harvest, we know, creates a sudden and vast importation of corn, for which, usually, the payment is in bullion : at such a season the exchange of notes for gold will be at its largest. But reverse the supposition, and imagine a bountiful crop just safely gotten into the garners : is a thinking man to be required to keep the same stock of bullion, which he knows will not be applied for, as he did when all the exchanges of corn-growing countries were enforcing remittances of bullion ? Such a restriction is an imputation on his good sense, and his capacity to administer ; it proclaims that the task of adapting a reserve to the fluctuating wants of the public for a particular commodity transcends the human faculties, or too severely tempts human weakness : and if the charge be true, the automaton becomes inevitably the right and only instrument of issue. A fixed limit, and issue of paper currency by intelligent minds, we hold to be two inconsistent and, in the long-run, incompatible things.
Well, then, this being so, is an automaton, an irrational agent, the only safe, the only natural and legitimate instrument for the management of a currency of notes? How is it possible, we reply, to maintain such a proposition in the face of the fact that the Bank of England did, from 1819 to the time of the passing of this Act, so manage its notes as that they never sufiered at any moment a breath of depreciation, and all through that period supplied England with a perfectly convertible, sound, and ever- trusted currency of paper ? How can such an assertion be made in the teeth of a highly- developed currency of notes in Scot- land, founded on an exceedingly slender reserve of gold, work- ing with unbroken success for more than a century, efiecting an unrivalled economy of expensive coin, and intensely valued by the population? Theorists may choose to say that the conver- tibility of the bank-note was in great danger at various times, and that the paper notes of Scotland are inadequately sustained; but fact and science rebut the charge. Every practical witness declares that at no time has the Bank-of-Eugland note, since cash payments have ceased to be forbidden, held its head lower than the sovereign ; at no time has the public preferred gold as safer and sounder than the note. The Bank's reserve, its re-
The Bank Charter Act, 415
serve as banker, has often been sorely pressed to supply money to claimants ; but the difficulty has lain in finding notes as much as gold, for the public was indifierent which of the two they carried away. Never was there a greater run upon the Bank than in 1825 ; but the thing which saved its solvency was the discovery of one million of unburnt one-pound notes. They were greedily taken by the public, so perfectly at that terrible mo- ment was the note the equal and the match of gold. Great authorities have chosen to say that the bank-note was then ex- posed to imminent peril ; but the very reverse is the truth. The bank-note then, as now, or at any period since 1819, has never been exposed to the slightest risk of depreciation or insolvency ; and what fact reveals science ratifies. It tells us that the sol- vency of a truly responsible issuer is a complete and sufficient guarantee for convertibility; and it accepts the evidence supplied by experience, that the Bank of England and the Bank of Scot- land have been found to be truly solvent and responsible issuers, and have furnished practical and trustworthy security for sol- vency and convertibility. If the Bank Act of 18i4 and the automaton have created a solvent and convertible currency, the Bank of England and the Bank of Scotland have done the same. The theoretical machinery of the Act has not produced, in the estimate of science, results one iota more valuable or trustworthy than the practical management of these private companies.
But, exclaim the authorities, look at the awful state of the bul- lion in 1825, 1847, and at other terrible periods ; see how fright- fully the note was brought to the edge of the precipice; the country was within an ace of the suspension of cash payments. The wrong inference, we reply. See with how little gold the huge fabric of the Bank-of-England circulation was and can be trium- phantly sustained. Amidst the terror of traders and the crash of perishing firms, when panic convulsed every mind, and the best houses trembled for existence ; when money was impossible, dis- count not to be had, the rate of interest rising, and the City on the verge of annihilation ; — one thing, and one thing only, stood proudly unshaken and unshakeable amidst the howling storm. Bank directors had lent away all their deposits ; commerce in vain shrieked for more relief; the foundations of the Bank itself tottered ; but its note never lost the public confidence for one instant. Not for a second did any terrified spirit — neither, we venture to assert. Lord Overstone nor Mr. Norman — feel the remotest wish to ask for gold when the note was ofiered. And why was this ? Because it was a mere tool, an instrument of currency, and an agent only for transferring ownership; be- cause its solvency was unquestioned, and its numbers in no
416 The Bank Charter Jet,
excess over the daily requirements of the public ; because, in a word, it had nothing to do with banking and its incidents, its prosperity or its disasters. Let no man assert, therefore, that any measure was needed to protect (such is the phrase) the con- vertibiHty of the note. The bank-note never fell under a cloud, never felt a whiff of danger, before 1844. It has been safe since the Bank Act ; it was equally safe before. It rests, doubtless, on a larger reserve now than it did then ; but if a house is per- fectly solid, nothing is gained by surrounding it with extra but- tresses. What deceived the world was the actual smallness of the Bank's reserve, and the manifest strain it was suffering. But it was forgotten that that reserve was a combined resource for banking and currency liabilities conjoined : and men failed to perceive that the portion needed for paying notes on demand was a trifle ; that the remainder, its incomparably larger part, belonged to the banking business, and was plainly becoming inadequate ; and that all the agitation among traders, and all the danger to the Bank, threatened its banking affairs alone. If a lesson was to be learnt from these fearful days, it was, as we have stated above, not the danger of the note, but the trifling reserve upon which its stability could be successfully supported.
But if the Bank of England in bygone times and Scotch banks in our day were and are good and solid issuers of notes, it must not be concluded that all bankers are equally fitted for that function. The shipwrecks of 1825 teach a very different lesson. They showed that the country bankers for the most part were very bad issuers, because their solvency was unassured. Bankers lost their money in banking; and when bankruptcy overtook them, the holders of their notes were ruined. It was the busi- ness of customers who kept accounts with the banks of their own free choice to take heed to their own safety ; but the blow was hard upon those who had taken the currency which circulated in their neighbourhood. The truth was patent, that country bankers were generally unsafe depositories of the function of supplying a public currency ; but it was a truth resting on experience alone, for the solidity of the Bank of England and the Scottish paper flowed, not from any peculiarity in their banking nature, but from the established fact that they had always been practically solvent. We shall revert to this topic hereafter, when we come to speak of the other provision of the Act of 1844.
But if there was to be an automaton and a limit, was the line drawn at the right place ? And what is a right place, and upon what principle was it to be determined ? The witnesses concur in asserting, that the limit of fourteen millions sprang from the observation of the circumstance that up to 1844 that sum was about the lowest point to which the circulation of bank
TJie Bank Charter Jet. 417
paper had descended. Hence it was argued that there was no likelihood of gold being asked for notes below that figure, and that a reserve coextensive with the largest amount of notes that have circulated above that point would supply gold for every pound that could be practically demanded. A most empirical process, unquestionably ; for who could tell v/hether, in future years, the public might require more or fewer notes than it had theretofore employed? It indicates but too truly, we fear, how ignorant the men of that day were of the forces which regulated the numbers of the bank-notes ; how little they perceived that convenience, as well as the amount of other instruments of cur- rency, determined the quantity of notes needed by the public. The establishment of a score of clearing houses throughout the country might easily have deranged the calculation, and reduced the bank paper to seven instead of fourteen millions. And then, when the line had been once drawn, it is very curious to observe the tenacity of conservative Englishmen clinging resolutely to an existing practice, even when the principle which led to its adop- tion suggested later and consistent alteration. In 1857, thirteen years after the enactment, it was pointed out in the Committee that as during that long period the lowest figure of the paper currency had not sunk below sixteen millions, the principle which selected foui'teen now as cogently required sixteen ; but not one single witness, though compelled to admit the fact, could be got to recommend the new adjustment. Upon the ground of the framers of the Act, it is clear that sixteen millions is the true figure; but is that the right principle for fixing the limit? How does it work in practice ? Under the pressure of a heavy export of gold, the stock of gold has sunk to eight millions, once to a little only above six; and Lord Overstone thinks that a very proper amount. We are of the opposite opinion ; we hold this sum to be a monstrous and extravagant waste, justified neither by fact nor reasoning. For what purpose does the automaton, the bank mint, need a reserve of gold in hand ? To secure the con- vertibility of the note. And why is convertibility demanded ? To prevent the depreciation of the note ; to guard against its being discredited ; to protect it from a discount ; to keep it on an equa- lity with gold. But we have just seen that these great objects were triumphantly accomplished when the bullion in the mixed banking and currency reserve stood as low as three millions, or even one million. But, much more, people nowadays have for- gotten that for years the bank-note suffered neither discredit nor depreciation, and was the equal and rival of the guinea, when posi- tively it had no reserve at all — when gold could not be obtained for it — when convertibility was actually prohibited by law. And how was this brought about ? By a natural law, of which the
418 The Bank Charter JcL
authorities seem to be ignorant, — the law that when notes are known to have been issued by a solvent body, and circulate only in such numbers as satisfy the actual wants of the public for effectinpj their ordinary transactions, there is a natural capacity and willingness in the public to hold these notes, and not to send them in for payment, simply on account of their usefulness and their convenience as instruments of exchange.
In the presence of such facts it is idle to insist on these out- rageous reserves. The danger alleged to threaten the converti- bility of the note is a pure bugbear of Lord Overstone and his school; and it has frightened the rest of the world, who still associate the large combined reserve of former days for the double purpose of banking and currency with the single object of providing for the currency alone. Eight millions may be a proper or even a low figure for the banker's reserve of the pri- vate corporation of the Bank of England ; but it is a sheer waste and absurdity in the cellars of the automaton, as a provision for bank-notes only. For oar part, we see no reason whatever why a minimum of a single million should not be held to be a thoroughly ample and satisfactory reserve. If in the worst times — not of commercial difficulty, for that is of no account here, but of pressure on the bank mint for gold in exchange for notes — the reserve does not sink below a million of hard sovereigns still at the command of the automaton, what can the country or the City want more ? What possible end can a larger supply secure ? For let us suppose the worst that can happen ; let us imagine the reserve to have been entirely exhausted, not a sove- reign left in the vaults, fourteen millions of bank-notes in circu- lation, and, as before 1819, not an ounce of bullion to sustain them. What would be the harm, we ask ? Is there no remedy ? Must the automaton point to its empty till, and send back the note-holders with the dismal reply of " No assets" ? Nothing of the sort : a most efficient remedy is at hand, ready to extin- guish the peril on the instant. Here are fourteen milhons of Consols, or other securities : what so easy, what so natural and efficacious, as to sell a million or two's worth of them, and pro- cure gold or notes from the general market ? That the country will always demand a large quantity of so convenient a currency as bank-notes is certain : but suppose it would not, — suppose every note were sent in for payment ; what, then, would have happened? — the sale of the Consols, nothing ^more, except that the poor automaton would have given up the ghost. He would not be the only victim, shriek the authorities : every banker in the City would die of fright, if he were told there was no gold in the Issue Department. Let them be comforted : neither men nor bank-notes die so easily. The bankers would be simply as
The Bank Charter Jet, 419
they were ; they would have lost nothing. Twenty long yeai"s have elapsed since the automaton was entrusted with the su- preme management of the issue of bank-notes^ and during that period the City has been convulsed, in 184^7 and 1857, by two of the severest commercial pressures on record ; but never once has the bullion descended to six millions. Six millions of the ori- ginal gold on which the automaton was reared have reposed un- disturbed in the depths of the Issue Department's vault : not a seal has been broken, not an ingot stirred : they have slumbered on unused by bankei's, and of no more value to mankind than when they lay under the rocks of Australia. If such facts fail to demonstrate the gigantic absurdity of the present limit, and the ignorant nervousness of traders and writers on currency, reasoning must be thinist aside as a waste of time, and blind timidity be suffered to hold the government of the world.
But what is the harm, after all ? still urge the authorities ; it is comfortable to think that there is so great a treasure in the couutry ; what matters it if it is a little too large? A little too large ! People who speak thus, who with Lord Overstone call 8,000,000/. a very satisfactory figure for a minimum, have but a faint notion of the waste and the cost at which this utterly use- less heap of metal is kept up. One million, we assert, is a perfectly sufficient minimum ; the remaining seven are pure excess. And what is their annual expense ? 350,000/. a year, at five per cent, some think ; but this is but the smallest portion of the loss ac- tually incurred. These seven millions can be sold abroad for their equivalent in capital, for an equal value of food, clothing, and raw material for the labourers of England. It is not too much to say that capital applied to average industry yields a profit of at least fifty per cent in the wages given to labourers, and in the several profits of the many hands through which a commodity passes be- fore it is finally consumed. Take it at thirty per cent only ; and on seven millions we get a sum of upwards of 2,000,000/., which year after year the unemployed and unemployable reserve of the Issue Department costs England. And what is it that keeps up this fear- ful waste ? The unreflecting and unscientific timidity of Bank di- rectors, who cannot learn to see the difference between the reserve of the Bank and the reserve of the automaton; the ignorant belief of the multitude that plenty of gold at the Bank must make things safe ; the notion that somehow all this gold cannot be use- less and without effect ; and, most of all, the perverse conven- tionalities, the arbitrary and uninductive assumptions, the inve- terate association of banking with currency, in spite of all pro- tests to the contrary, and the consequent unintelligible jargon of writers like' Mr. Norman and Lord Overstone. They blunder grossly as practical men when they defend and encourage such
VOL. IV. " //
420 The Bank Charter Act,
a senseless waste, whicli the evidence of their own eyes ought to have told them was absolutely unneeded ; but they blunder far more grossly, on the ground of science, by ignoring the essence and objects of a paper circulation, and by their inconsistency in desiring a currency of notes, and then striving to get rid of it by indirect devices. They seem for a moment to realise the scientific truth ; but as soon as they proceed to apply it, their steps falter, and their language betrays uncertainty, hesitation, and fear. True science never falters : arbitrary dogmatism is always conscious that there is something which it does not understand, and takes refuge in authoritative dicta. Eight millions are a satisfactory reserve, says Lord Overstone ; and if he were questioned till night- fall, more than this could not be got out of him. How different is the walk of Mr. James Wilson, how firm his step, how un- shrinking his confidence in pushing his science on to all its re- sults! "The object of using paper to a certain extent instead of coin," says Mr. Wilson to Mr. Weguelin, " is simply for the pur- pose of economising that coin, and economising to that extent the capital of the country. The greater the extent to which that can be done with perfect safety to the community, the greater is the advantage which the country derives from the adoption of a mixed circulation of gold and paper."
How racy and refreshing is this language ! It contains about the whole of the science of a paper currency j but how clear, simple, and intelligible is that science ! Not a trace of banking is found in these remarkable words ; not a hint that a paper cur- rency and its reserves have any connection with the Bank of Eng- land, or discounting of bills, or accommodation to trade, or a reserve for meeting demands against deposits and liabilities. But it tells the truth, the whole of that glorious truth which Adam Smith unfolded, when he compared a currency of paper to roads constructed in the air, which allowed the highways of the earth to be cultivated and made productive. Paper is intended to take the place of coin, teaches Mr. Wilson, because paper costs nothing and gold costs much, and both perform ex- actly the same work. And because paper is the cheap instru- ment for effecting the same results, use as much paper as you can, with no other restriction than " perfect safety to the com- munity." Hence, in judging every form of paper cuiTency, try it always by the single test — its means of guaranteeing the safety of the public; if it fulfils that one condition, every other con- sideration is of very minor importance. If, therefore, a mini- mum of one million of reserve in the hardest times renders the note safe, especially when backed by the power of selUng govern- ment securities if required, sentence a paper circulation which assigns more gold to the reserve than is needed, as violating in
The Bank Charter Jet, 421
respect of that excess the first object of a paper currency — the saving the expense of the gold — as being a spurious, and not a true, paper circulation; and amend the Act of 1844, by extending the issues on securities to twenty millions instead of fourteen, and thereby render it a truly scientific and defensible measure.
The two cardinal principles of perfect safety in combination with the largest possible use are strikingly developed in the paper circulation of Scotland. The absolute and unshakeable safety of the automaton may abstractedly claim a theoretical superiority over the issues of the Scottish banks ; but a century of success, a century during which no member of the community ever lost a pound by a Scottish note, proclaims that the end is achieved as surely, as beneficially, by the Scottish system as by the Act of 1844. English banks of issue have lost their funds and ruined their note-holders; Scottish banks of issue do not fail; or, if they do, their notes are provided for, and the public is uninjured. Eng- lish country bankers have therefore, as a rule, proved themselves to be bad issuers, and Scottish bankers good issuers, of notes ; and so long as this quality lasts, no man of sense or science can attack them on either practical or scientific grounds. What science commands is the accomplishment of perfect safety ; but it prescribes no one invariable machinery for attaining that end. If the Scottish notes are safe, — and no man has been hardy enough to deny that they are safe, — they are unimpeachable in principle, however much any one originating a system of paper circulation might prefer one founded on the basis of an automaton. The authorities, indeed, inveigh against the vast superstructure of paper in Scotland on so trifling, so insignificant a reserve of metal ; but what they decry with so much alarm constitutes a merit of the highest scientific value in the Scottish system. If the notes, as a fact, are perfectly safe, the more insignificant the reserve of bullion the greater manifestly is the economy they achieve, and the more splendidly have they realised the require- ments of science.
On the other hand, as regards the second principle, the ex- tent to which the circulation of paper is carried, the superiority of Scotland over England is most decided and brilliant. Scotland has one-pound notes, and England none ; the people of Scotland prefer to be paid in notes rather than in sovereigns. Can words describe more powerfully monetary success and the triumph of commercial civilisation? Why must England forego the use of one-pound notes, and pay for expensive and inconvenient sove- reigns in their place ? Because the public was frightened by the insolvency of country banks in 1825, and because bankers, partly from routine and partly from a timidity derived from a secret con- sciousness that they do not understand the principles of currency, have fallen into a rut, and shrink from making a change. We
422 Tlie Bank Charter Jet.
have in vain looked through the two Bhie-books of 1857 and 1858 for a reason to justify the banishment of notes of low de- nomination. The witnesses, when pressed, gave up the matter in despair, and, acknowledging their inability to defend their opinions, fell back upon sentiment. "I do not know,^' says Mr. Newmarch, "that any inconvenience has arisen from the existing state of things which would render it desirable even to consider whether or not the circulation of one-pound notes might be introduced." This from a man who lives in an island of which Scotland forms a part. He is considered a great autho- rity on currency. What can his notion be of the use of a paper currency? He sees one-pound notes largely used and highly valued by many of his fellow-subjects ; he ought to know that these notes effect an immense saving of capital — that they cost nothing, whilst sovereigns cost much — and yet he will not even ask himself whether they might not be useful in England also. Why not ? Because he does not choose, it seems ; and this is called science, or practical authority. He may be a practical authority on banking; but that answer betrays a profound igno- rance of the very ends for which a paper currency exists.
We may now sum up the results which we have acquired ; and we shall be thus enabled to pass a judgment on the leading provisions of the Bank Act of 1 84 1.
We have discovered its high scientific merit in thoroughly separating banking from currency. We have regretted the phrase Issue Department as suggestive of a branch of the Bank of England; whilst, in fact, an automaton has carried off the whole currency from the Bank, and regulates it by laws as fixed and self-acting as those that govern the motion of the planets. The bank-note does not belong to the Bank of England ; and the Bank has no greater command over the issues for furnishing accom- modation to trade than any other bank or any other person in the kingdom. We have seen that what the automaton does is to sell bank-notes to all comers — selling first of all fourteen mil- lions to the Bank of England for a payment in government secu- rities, and demanding gold from all the rest of the world for any quantity which they may choose to buy. The automaton has thus been shown to provide perfect safety for every pound of notes issued, and also to have at hand a larger quantity of sove- reigns than the public can in any way be expected to demand. The conditions of a sound paper currency are thus completely fulfilled : the public may obtain any supplies they choose to ask for of a most convenient and safe paper, invested also with the privilege of legal tender in discharge of debts. But whether the paper currency is as unassailable in detail as it is in principle, is a point fairly open to dispute. It may be questioned whether a fixed limit is the nicest machinerv for the determination of the
The Bank Charter Act, 423
stock of gold which must be kept ready for cashing notes pre- sented for payment ; and^ supposing that question resolved in the affirmative, the precise limit of fourteen millions may be much more legitimately and successfully challenged. As compared with Scottish issues, and the method of issue practised by the Bank before 1844, when the bank-note formed a part of the general liabihties of the Bank, and relied on the same common reserve as the deposits and other obligations, the practical safety obtained by means of the Act of 1844 is as good as, but no better than, that realised by the other two systems. In all the three methods alike the solvency and credit of the notes have been entirely secured ; and that was all that was required to be done. The authorities may rejoice in the reflection that, under the Act, the note is always safe; but the Scots may and do rejoice as legitimately, and so might have done the administrators of the Bank-of-England currency before 1844. Theoretically, it can- not be denied that the security given by the Issue Department is higher still than that which prevailed previously, or which now exists in the Scottish system ; for there are always bullion and government securities in the bank mint coextensive with the whole amount of the circulation, whilst it was not impossible that the Bank of England should have become insolvent before 1844, or that the Scottish banks may not continue as sound as they have been heretofore. But, practically, the difference disap- pears in the common and coequal convertibility of the three sys- tems. Whilst, therefore, we adopt the principle of 1844, which completes the security for the whole paper circulation, and very heartily approve the separation of currency from banking as ex- cellent in doctrine and practice, still we cannot assert that the law was demanded by any practical and demonstrated necessity, or that the currency of Bank of England notes has derived from it a single advantage that was not enjoyed before its enactment. But when we come from the principle to the details of the Act, our judgment is greatly modified, and we are compelled to recognise and to censure the unwarranted and uncompens- ated waste of capital which the drawing of the line at fourteen millions has inflicted on the country. The loss is so heavy and so gratuitous that, in our eyes, it extinguishes all the merit of the Act of 1844 ; and if no corrective is applied, the loss would make us perpetually regret the extinction of the old sys- tem. Banking is infinitely better understood than it was twentj'' years ago, and the directors of the Bank of England would not now conduct their affairs at hap-hazard, as they admit that they did in former days. A couple of millions a year is a heavy cost to pay for a little more theoretical nicety, and no practical bene- fit, in the management of a paper circulation. However, there is an easy locus pcenitentm left ; the Act can be amended, and
424 The Bank Charter Act.
thereby convei'ted into an excellent measure. All that is needed is to raise the credit-issues, as they are called — the notes for which no gold is stored in the cellars — to twenty millions. No doubt a fierce yell from the authorities awaits such a proposal ; but that signifies little ; we do not despair of obtaining such an improvement in the end. It would come speedily, we feel cer- tain, if the automaton worked at "Whitehall instead of on the premises of the Bank. Not oncsingle element in the Act would be altered by such a removal ; the Bank of England would not, in that case, have a particle the less of control over the bullion and the notes, seeing that now it has no command over them at all. The public would speedily learn to perceive that trade and discount have no connection whatever with the machinery which issues out notes to the public, any more than with the sovereigns which are emitted by the Royal Mint ; and they would soon learn to care as little for the number of the notes in circulation as they care for the quantity of sovereigns which roam up and down England. They would rapidly get over all alarm at a low reserve for notes when they saw that, whether gold abounded or not, the credit and popularity of the note were uninjured. In a word, as soon* as they imbibed the conviction that the manufactory which supplied notes differed in no respect from that which produces sovereigns, or any mill which turned out calico, and was as incapable of furnishing supplies to the money-market as any shop or factory in the land, all uneasiness would be at an end as to the solvency and convertibility of paper which was fully protected by securities. We say by securities, because one great principle of the Act ought in no case to be abandoned — the absolute safety afforded to the whole paper cur- rency by the deposit of securities ensuring their safety. This is the clear and legitimate superiority which the system of 1844 can claim over its predecessor, as well as over its Scottish rival. Unlike the bullion in the cellar, these securities involve no loss of capital ; for they would yield dividends to whomsoever they might be allotted, and they may just as well be lodged in one place as in another.
But such an improvement as the Act of 1844 ought not to stop short of the restoration of one-pound notes. Such an act of repentance would remove a disgrace from our financial legisla- tion. The extinction of this most useful currency is a standing memorial of the panic and the ignorance from which it sprang. Prejudice and sentiment are the sole obstacles in the way of this good deed ; for it is useless to seek for scientific or practical arguments against its performance. There are persons, indeed, who terrify themselves that then there would be no gold left in the country; just as there were those who honestly Mieved that the repeal of the corn-laws would throw English fields out of cul-
TJie Bank CJiarter Act, 425
tivation ; but the one are not more rational the other. England has not starved since 1846 ; and even the lovers of bullion have been driven to confess that foreigners constantly sell precious metals to England. The balance of trade is^ as a rule, always directing a stream of gold into England ; in other words_, Eng- land has no difficulty in finding perpetual sellers of gold. So entirely is the trade in the precious metals to be relied on_, that a large portion of the Duke of Wellington's supplies for the payment of his troops in Spain is said to have come to him through Paris. Lancashire may often find cotton unprocurable ; but it will never lack whatever gold it may desire, so long as it has property wherewith to buy it.
We are now brought to the remaining enactments of 1844 — the regulations imposed on the paper issues of the country banks. A few words will suffice on this head. All issues, we have seen, beyond the amount in circulation when the Act was passed, as well as the creation of new banks of issue, are for- bidden ; and, as the country circulation is diminished by the ex- tinction of an amalgamation of country banks, the Bank of Eng- land is authorised to extend its circulation without any deposit of gold to the amount of two-thirds of the lapsed notes. It is manifest that the framers of the Act desired and expected an early extinction of the country circulation. There were some rea- sonable grounds for that desire. The events of 1825 were still re- cent in 1844, and distrust in the solvency of many of the country issuers was justifiable. But their expectation has been falsified, because they did not perceive the attachment which local popu- lations feel for their country notes. To this day, in many dis- tricts of England, local notes are deliberately preferred to Bank of England notes, though the latter are a legal tender, and though their solvency is placed on a higher level than was ever obtained by English country notes. The country people are more familiar with their old acquaintances; and, still more, they conceive the risk of losing their money by forgery to be much greater with the Bank of England note. The sentiment is strong, whether reasonable or not ; and it clearly shows that the right measure to have been adopted respecting them was to place their notes on the same basis as the credit-issues of the Bank, and to require the deposit with the government of securities sufficient to guarantee the complete safety of the notes. No doubt country bankers would prefer to hold their securities at their own disposal; but they should remember that the issue of a public currency is no inherent part of the private business of banking. It is a public function derived from the State; and indisputably the State has the fullest right to lay down the con- ditions on which it will confer a public and profitable privilege.
It remains for us now to notice briefly some of the re-
426 The Bank Charter Act.
markable doctrines which have been associated with the Bank Act of 1844.
The most common is the belief that the quantity of gold in the Issue Department implies an increased reserve for the banking department of the Bank of England, and consequently is a security and accommodation for trade. This is an all-pervading notion in commercial circles ; but it is a pure and baseless fal- lacy. There is not a word of truth in it. Its existence would be astonishing, were it not possible to trace its origin so clearly to the former state of things, when the two reserves were confounded into one, and when the gold reserved to pay notes was mixed up in the same till with the gold destined to pay depositors and all other creditors of the Bank. A strong re- serve undoubtedly is a matter of great importance to a bank, and to every person who has dealings with it ; but the gold be- longing to the automaton, to the Issue Department, does not belong to the Bank of England, but to the holders of bank-notes all over the kingdom ; and it may be much or little, without affecting by a single pound the banking and true reserve of the Bank of England. Did any one ever hear the notion uttered, that the sovereigns throughout England strengthened the re- serve of the Bank of England? Why should the notes do so any the more, or the gold which is held in close pawn for those notes, fast out of the reach of the whole court of directors? Those who use such language have not learned the meaning of the Act of 1844, They are still unaware of the fact that the Issue Department, the automaton, is nothing else in the world but a factory for the making and selling of bank-notes — a purely private establishment, as private and separate as the shop of any tradesman in the City; and that the cash in its till has no more to do with the equally private firm of the Bank of England than the sovereigns which lie in the purses of gentlemen going about the streets. The gold of the automaton is a part of its stock-in-trade, — for in truth it deals in both ways, selling gold as well as notes, — and whether that stock is large or small is no one's concern but its own. If it is too large, there is a waste incurred by compelling the automaton to sentence a large treasure to annihilation; and if it is reduced to a proper size, — to a million, as we contend, — the automaton will only have profited by the intelligence of the age, and reduced its useless store, as tradesmen nowadays, by the favour of railways, no longer keep the same amount of stock in their shops. All these are private affairs; nothing more.
There is also another delusion, closely akin to the former, which invests gold with a mysterious and peculiar importance; which distinguishes it from all other commodities by some quali- ties too mystical to be intelligibly described ; which conceives it to be the duty of all prudent and paternal governments to
The Bank Charter Act. 427
make legislative provision for a constant supply of this magical article ; and which, contemplating with infinite complacency and self-gratulation the eight millions which, undisturbed and un- ruffled, are ever incubating over some prodigy going to be born in the dark cellars of Threadneedle Street, points to the sacred treasure as the pledge of commercial safety. Dreams of the imagination, which the breath of the morning air at once dispels. What virtue can reside in a metal which no man can control or see? Gold is but one out of thousands of commodities subject to the same laws, obeying the same influence, bought, sold, and exchanged by precisely the same rules as all its companions. Food sustains life, clothing shelters it, comforts give it enjoy- ment, humbler metals minister to its necessities ; but what can luckless sovereigns and unworked bullion accomplish, except serve as tools for passing property from one man's possession to an- other's ? And if they are not engaged in this office, of what use are they to mortals ? But, even if it were otherwise, — if gold, like food and clothing, w ere consumed, — why should go- vernments, above all an English government, take thought for its supply ? Why should the universal law^ of supply and de- mand be supposed to have lost its efficacy in the case of this one metal ? Is iron less useful, less valuable ? Yet what theorist has prescribed the piling-up of warehouses with unemployed hard- Avare ? The dread of too feeble a supply of gold is shipwrecked against a fact so palpable that not an authority has dared to deny it — the fact that foreign countries, normal^, are always in- debted to England, or, in other words, that the value of our ex- ported manufactures exceeds the value of the foreign raw mate- rials of which they are composed. And if this is so, — as it incontestably is, — does it not irresistibly follow that the normal problem for England is not how to gel gold, but how to get rid of it ? This everlasting craving for hoards, which are turned to no profitable use ; this gloating over reserves, which science and ex- perience and common sense alike condemn; this fatuous revival of the mercantile theory in all its preposterousness, — is the shame of our age. If eight millions are needed for cashing notes presented for payment, let us have them, — they are usefully employed in sustaining a paper circulation ; but if one million is enough, — if one million will do the work as thoroughly, as safely, as per- manently as eight, in the name of common intelligence let science say so to the trembling spirits of the City, and let it bid them turn the idle into reproductive capital, for the benefit of the nation. Their own automaton might have taught them better things. Had it a voice to speak with, it would summon them to carry away ingots which no man had touched for twenty years, and which their own laws compel it to keep from all the world. Another merit is claimed for the law of 18 M by these eminent
428 The Bmik Charter Act.
philosophers, — fortunately, without the slightest foundation for it in the law itself; for otherwise it would not be the good law which it is on so many points. It regulates the circulation, they tell us, making money cheaper or dearer as the circulation expands or is contracted, and thereby steadies prices, checks speculation, and furnishes a solid basis for the calculations of the trader. Sovereigns and bank-notes alone form " the circu- lation,'^ and thus bank-notes and sovereigns alone ought to be cared for as the regulators of prices. Again are we lifted into the world of fiction and unreality. Where have these great oracles learned that coin and bank-notes alone constitute the currency of England ? Nay, what is their idea of a currency and its functions ? Manifestly to them currency is something more than instruments of exchange; for such a definition at once places cheques, bills, and book- credit on a level with the sovereign and the note, for the work of all is identical in nature, with modifications to suit requirements of detail, just as a chisel is fitted for cleaving and a plane for smoothing wood. And as the work is the same, so the diminution of one kind of these instruments only leads to an increase of the others. If bank- notes are made fewer by the withdrawal of gold from the automaton for exportation, nay, if they were extinguished alto- gether, the only effect would be to compel the public to use more cheques, bills, and book- credit. But this view does not content the authorities. They have assigned a specific and ad- ditional effect to coin and notes, and they glory in the Act of 1844, not only as ensuring the safety and convertibility of the public cheque, — a merit it is clearly entitled to, — but also as protecting an agent which peculiarly acts on prices, and thereby specially deserves the attention of the legislator. When notes and sovereigns are abundant, prices, we are assured, are inclined to rise ; when they are deficient, the value of all commodities begins to droop, and thus the doctor is enabled to discern the remedy for controlling speculation by lowering the markets, through a diminution of the circulation. A gratuitous and un- founded theory. In the first place, the law of 1844 does not and cannot act in the manner supposed ; the automaton does not control the circulation at all, but is' itself controlled by the pub- lic, whether speculators or others, who take as many or as few notes as they please. If, therefore, the doctrine were true, it would be destroyed by the very law that was enacted to give it effect. But, in the second place, those who suppose currency to act on prices are entirely ignorant of the natural ebb and flow of the currency. On this point there seems to be a strange misap- prehension even amongst the ablest writers. We are not aware of a single person having perceived what appears to us to be a very obvious truth, — that, there being only a fimited use and demand
The Bank Charter Jet.
429
for gold within the country, the inevitable destination of all im- ports which are not intended for immediate reexportation is the vaults of the Issue Department. Vouchers are given for it in the form of bank-notes ; and these notes^ being equally incapable of being absorbed by the public, gravitate, by a similar process, through the various banks to the common reservoir of the reserve of the banking department — that is, of the Bank of England. This bullion and these notes are purely inoperative; they are waiting in idleness till they can be consumed, the bullion by being sent abroad, the notes by being cancelled. They are simply an excess of stock, like a glut of timber or corn in the docks, for which the owners have received warrants from the dock company. Such being the fact, it is plain that the cellar of the automaton is merely a safe and convenient place in which to store away the gold till it is wanted ; and that the notes which are issued as receipts for it, supervening upon an amount already sufficient for the public wants, as all the witnesses agree, cannot be kept out in circulation, but play simply the part of title-deeds or vouchers. This simple explanation shows at a glance the emptiness of the speculations which have been so prodigally lavished on the fluc- tuations of the automaton's reserve. These fluctuations indicate solely the movements to and fro of the trade in gold; and as gold is almost always flowing into England from the balance of trade, the reserve, for the most part, stands at a figure far above the minimum necessary for the single purpose of securing the convertibility of the bank-note.
But in truth all this commotion about gold and notes, these special investigations in times of commercial difficulty into the state of these instruments of exchange, as if they contained the secret of a standing or falling City, are singularly absurd. Look at the following statement, we say to students of currency; make use of your common sense ; and then ask yourselves whe- ther this passionate excitement about the condition of the bul- lion and the bank-notes is not supremely ludicrous. This state- ment was laid before the Committee of the House of Commons in 1858 by Mr. Slater, of the firm of Morrison, Dillon, and Co., and gives an account of the receipts and payments of that house in the year 1856.
Receipts.
Bankers' drafts and bills payable after date
Cheques ....
Country bankers' notes
Bank of England notes
Gold
Silver and copper Post Office orders
£533,596 357,715 9,207 G8,554 28,089 9,333 1,48G
.£1,007,980
430 The Bank Charter Act.
Payments.
Bills payable after date £302,674
Cheques 663,672
Bank of England notes 22,743
Gold 9,427
Silver and copper 1,484
£1,000,000 f^M It appears from this document that, in the payment of a millioh sterling, notes and coin together were employed to the extent of only 33,654/. Who does not see, after this, the utterly insigni- ficant part which the public currency of the realm plays in the great transactions of business; that gold and notes form but the small change, the pocket-money, as it were, of trade; that the mighty instruments by which commercial exchanges are effected are the bill, and, above all, the cheque; and that the passionate attention given to notes, the vehement anxiety about the mass of their reserve, are practical and scientific absurdities? The bill and the cheque do the work, and take care of them- selves; the Bank of England note is petted and fondled; it is raised to the highest elevation of dignity ; men are never happy unless it is enthroned on unemployed and unemployable mil- lions ; but it does not, and never will, from its very nature, do the great work of effecting exchanges. This, to be rightly under- stood, is enough to dispel most of the delusions about currency.
One delusion more, the greatest and most astounding of all, we must notice ; and then we shall cease to trouble the patience of our readers. It is the grand discovery of the authorities, the central principle of their view of a paper cm-rency, the scientific achievement on which they pride themselves, the splendid merit which they claim for the Act of 1844. The assertion is so over- whelming, that we must guard against every possibility of mis- take. We never met yet a man who, when told of it for the first time, could believe that Lord Overstone or his associates could have made such a declaration, so we quote the ipsissima verba of Lord Overstone himself. " By this means,*' he said on the 7th of July, 1857, to the Select Committee of the House of Commons, "by means of the Act of 1844, effectual security is obtained that the amount of paper money in the country shall at all times conform to what would be the amount of a metallic cir- culation. Of this there can be no doubt. The paper money of the country, under the Act of 1844, conforms strictly in amount and consequent value to a metallic circulation ; those fluctuations in amount, and those only, which would occur under a purely me- tallic circulation, can and will occur under our present mixed circulation of gold and paper, as regulated by the Act of 1844."
A paper currency identical, not in value only, but in amount.
The Bank Charter Act. 4S1
in tlie numbers of pounds circulating, with a circulation of coin, — and this erected into the primary principle of currency, of which there can be no doubt ! Egregious nonsense ; those are the only terms to apply to it. Lord Overstone was long a banker. Had a bookworm in Grub Street uttered such language, it might have caused no surprise ; but that such incredible absurdities should have come from a practical dealer in money is marvellous indeed. We ourselves, as v.'e write of it, can scarcely believe that such a thing could ever have been said. The desire to be scientific ex- tinguished the common sense of this great banker. Let him consult Jones Loyd and Co., and ask what they would do if Bank of England notes were suppressed ; let him enquire whe- ther they would use as many sovereigns in their business as they now use notes, sovereigns for notes, pound for pound. Let him imagine the stir in the banking-house, when the morning- clerks had to be sent out to collect the sums due to the firm. A small portfolio and a trustworthy clerk gathered, and brought home, thousands — possibly hundreds of thousands ; but what was to be done with those dreadful sovereigns? Who was to cany them ? a porter or a cab ? If a cab, two clerks must go ; for one must stay on guard whilst the other stepped into some house to receive a fresh payment. And then the weighings across the counter, the time lost, the risk of robbery — the sight of the bul- lion-bags as they were shot into the cab ! Does Lord Overstone imagine that Jones Loyd and Co., or any banking-house or mercantile firm in the City, would stand this for three days? Is it not obvious that fresh appeals would be made to that mightiest of instruments, the cheque ? that sovereigns would be eschewed by every man of business? that the disappear- ance of the bank-note would scarcely have enlarged the use of coin, but that the cheque, the despised and unprotected cheque — the cheque which no bullion renders safe, for which no grand Act of Parliament rears a costly foundation of metal — would dominate sole and all-powerful in the City ? And then, the confusion and perplexity in every household ! The gentleman who loved to carry a score or two of pounds in his pocket — what was he to do with all this weight ? The fine lady on her shopping rounds in Bond Street, how was she to pay for her purchases ? What could help her but the cheque ? More buy- ers on credit, less purchasers with ready money, more banking and more cheques. The cheque-book, for hourly use, would become the inseparable companion of ladies and gentlemen alike. The supposition is too ridiculous to pursue it farther. If people imagine that there are no such forces as the laws of gravity — if they fancy that the public, for the very same pur- poses, will use a very heavy commodity to the same extent that
4S2 The Bank Charter Jet,
they would a light one, — words would be wasted in the attempt to convert them.
Some may think that we have pressed too heavily on the absurdities of these currency oracles : we plead not guilty to the charge. The mischief, both theoretical and practical, which these pompous authorities work in matters of currency is incalculal)le. They have rendered it the most repulsive of subjects for the stu- dent ; and their dogmatism inflicts very heavy losses of money on the country. Many men, as our own experience has amply sliown, relying solely on their common sense, have discerned with ease the main principles of cun;ency. They have then passed over to the utterances of great bankers and grandiloquent writers; they have been assured that these were eminent authorities, pos- sessed of transcendent knowledge and experience; they have found the instincts of their own good sense contemptuously thrust aside as ignorant and shallow ; but they have found also the language of the great men to be unintelligible jargon ; and, turning away in disgust, they have resolved never to read a line more on currency in their lives. Such is the melancholy state to which currency has been reduced by the most uninductive and unanalytical writing which has weighed down any science since the days of astrology.
We are well aware also that our proposal to raise the limit of bank-notes issued on the deposit of Consols or other securities to twenty millions, and to return to the wholesome and scientific one-pound note, will be received with simple disdain. We are willing to bear it ; for we know that victory in the end always belongs to truth, and that our opponents are unable to oppose us with any reasonings which will bear examination. The Bank Act of ISit, their own very child, will at last work out their overthrow. It needs only to be understood. When the public has learned thoroughly to grasp the fact that the Issue Depart- ment, the automaton, has no connection with trade or the Bank of England ; that its one sole object, its only act, is to secure the credit and convertibility of the bank-note; and that almost all the gold destined to protect that convertibility is never touched for generations ; so wanton and vast a waste and loss as eight millions of pounds kept for a work which one alone is fully able to perform, will cease to be tolerated by the public opinion both of the City and of all England.
B. P.
[ 433 ]
THE PKOGKESS OF CHEMICAL SCIENCE.
The history of every science is marked by a succession of epochs of change in theoretical views, produced by the accumulation of facts for which existing theories afford an inadequate explanation. When a new theory is proposed, the labours of scientific men are appHed to clear up exceptions to its laws, to confirm its deductions, and to extend it to new and uncultivated branches of the science. There is no time as yet to see its defects : and so, when it has been once generally adopted, there is at first an unqualified faith in it ; the teaching of schools becomes so dogmatical that the majority of students who happen to be educated immediately after its general adoption hardly ever change their opinions afterwards. Gradually, however, as some unexpected facts come to light, scepticism begins to show itself ; partial modifications of the theory are suggested ; the germs of new ones burst forth, leading to animated controversy, and stimulating to new enquiries. This is the period of the greatest activity and progress of a science ; for the collision of rival hypo- theses produces the sparks from which most discoveries emanate. At length the old theory gives way, and a new one is installed in its place, to be in turn dethroned by another. Let it not be forgotten, however, that each successive theory is in reality but a transforma- tion, so to say, of the preceding one, and always brings us nearer to the goal which all science leads to, — a clearer insight into the laws of the universe, and a greater power of adapting them to our pur- poses.
In chemistry we are just now emerging from this strife of opposing hypotheses ; the old theories are becoming obsolete, and the foundations of a new one are being laid. And that new one will not be a theory to explain and connect chemical pheno- mena, m the usual restricted sense of the word, but will be a gene- ral theory of matter and motion ; for the chemist, following in the track of the astronomer, no longer confines himself to the study of terrestrial matter, but boldly speculates upon that of the sun, and even of the stellar worlds. It seems a fitting moment, then, to trace the successive phases of opinion which have prepared the way for the advent of the new theory.
At the beginning of the eighteenth century the old Greek elements, fire, air, earth, and water, were still believed in ; but the alchemists had added three others, sulphur, mercury, and salt. These must not be looked upon as the substances we now know by those names, but as the elements of the Peripatetics, the types of certain general properties. By sulphur the alchemists understood the property of changeability, of destruction ; mercury embodied
434- The Progress of Chemical Science.
the idea of iindecomposability, the cause of metalHc lustre, ductility, in a word, of metalleity ; while salt typified fixity. These were the metal-forming elements, the difference between the metals being due to the proportions and degree of purity of the elements. Hence it was evident that metals might be transmuted into each other. These elemental types bear evidence of the influence of metaphysical ideas upon the conceptions of physical phenomena. This influence is further illustrated by the gi'owth of a complete system of chemical ontology ; thus sweetness was attributed to a distinct sweet principle, bitterness to a bitter principle, aromas to an aromatic principle. The elixir of life, the alchahest, or universal solvent, the spiritus mundi, which people sought for in the dew of the month of May, and in the products of the distillation of frogs and lizards, was only a further development of this onto- logy. Such terms as elective affinity, magnetic, electric, caloric and lummous fluids, vital principle, prove that its influence has long lingered in physical science, though now passed, or passing, away for ever.
For this multiplicity of principles, the German physician, Becher, or rather his more celebrated disciple Stahl, substi- tuted a single general principle, by the combinations of which with bodies all their metamorphoses were sought to be explained. This principle was the matter of fire, which, according to Stahl, could exist both free and combined. When bodies contained it combined, they were combustible. This combined or fixed caloric he called phlogiston, from (p\6^, flame. When set free from bodies it assumes its common properties of heat and light. Com- bustion of bodies was therefore a decomposition into phlogiston and some other substance which varied with the nature of the com- bustible. The richer a body was in phlogiston, the more com- bustible it was. When metals were heated, they lost their bright- ness and were converted into an earthy dross or calx ; metals were compounds of different calxes with phlogiston, and the process of calcination was therefore a separation of phlogiston. Wlien these calxes were heated with such combustible bodies as oil or charcoal, the metals were revived, that is, they combined again with phlo- giston, which they borrowed from the combustibles.
The discoveiy by Bayen that the calx or oxide of mercury on being heated yielded metallic mercury and a gas, and the splendid discoveiy of all the properties of this gas (oxygen) by Priestley, and almost simultaneously by Scheele, Dr. Rutheiford's discovery of nitrogen, Black's discovery of carbonic acid. Cavendish's memorable .synthesis of water, and Lavoisier's discovery of the composition of air, enabled Lavoisier hunself completely to overturn the jihlogiston theory, and to give a simple explanation of the oxidation and reduc- tion of metals, and of the formation of many acids, — such as sul-
The Progress of Chemical Science, 455
phuric, carbonic, and phosphoric acids, — of combustion, of respira- tion, and decay. . The calxes of metals, according to him, were com- binations of metals with oxygen ; therefore all earths were oxides, and would yield metals, if only the oxygen could be separated. An attempt to realise this prediction of Lavoisier during his lifetime was made by Tondi and Ruprecht, who, about the year 1790, tried to separate the metals of barytes, magnesia, and some other earths. It seems that the bodies they obtained were only alloys of iron, so that the true metals of the alkalies and earths were imknown before the memorable experiments of Sir Humphrey Davy.
At first sight the difierence between Stahl's view of combustion and Lavoisier's may not seem so great a discovery as it really was ; but, in truth, there is a wide chasm between the chemical science of the first part of the eighteenth century and that established by Lavoisier. The very language was revolutionised ; not the mere nomenclature of chemical bodies only, but the descriptions of processes and the explanation of phenomena. The wonderful light which was shed over all the experimental sciences by the views of Lavoisier may be pointed to as an example of the value of theoretical views, apart from the discovery of mere facts.
Chemical research necessarily follows two distinct directions — one, the analysis and synthesis of bodies, their transformation when subjected to the action of reagents, and their mutual relationships ; the other, the investigation of the causes of the phenomena, that is, of the forces which are engaged in chemical processes. The former prepares materials for the latter ; and it is from the progress in the second direction that we attain to a theory of causation. Lavoisier did not, strictly speaking, propose a theory. He merely described facts without attempting to explain them ; but he did so clearly and logically, and therefore prepared the way for a theory. Hence he may be said to have followed the first of the two directions we have just mentioned. But among his fellow-labourers and contemporaries there were some who pursued the second path of research. In 1 775, the Swedish chemist Bergmann j3ublished his essay on elective at- tractions, in which he laid it down as a principle that all bodies which have the power of combining with each other do so in virtue of an affinity which is strictly elective, and that the force of this at- traction is constant and definite, and capable of numerical determi- nation. He attempted to express this affinity in the case of bases and acids by constructing a series of tables, which, though very incorrect, must always have a historical value, as the first systematic attempt to introduce number into chemistry. Two years after the publica- tion of Bergmann's book appeared a very remarkable work of a German chemist, Wenzel, upon the same subject. This work con- tained the capital discovery that many salts, when mixed toge- ther in certain proportions, completely decompose each other;
VOL. IV. 9 9
436 TJie Progress of Chemical Science.
while if there be an excess of one or the other salt in the solution, that excess will remain without aflPecting the result. The author further observed that if the salts were neutral to test-paper before being mixed, the neutrality was not affected by the result. In these experiments we have two important numerical laws, since known as the laws of definite and reciprocal proportion, that is, the doctrine of equivalents. Wenzel's analyses can scarcely be surpassed at the present day for accuracy. This subject was further extended by the labours of another German chemist, Richter, whose chief work, in four volumes, appeared between 1792 and 1794. His analyses are by no means as accurate as those of Wenzel ; but his tables may be considered the prototypes of the later tables of equivalents.
This subject of afiinity occupied the attention of many other chemists also, and among them of the Frenchman Berthollet, whose celebrated work Essai de Statique Chimique appeared in 1803. In this book, Berthollet made an attempt to lay the basis of a general theory of chemical science, by considering that the mole- cular attraction which produces chemical combination is but a mo- dification of the universal law of gravitation. He considered com- binations and decompositions to be the result, not of affinity, as Bergman n thought, but of an effort to attain a state of equilibrium under the varying influences of external circumstances, such as density, insolubility, volatility, and the relative masses of bodies. He believed that bodies are capable of uniting with each other in all proportions, and that the definite composition which we find them to possess is the resultant of the different forces engaged in each reaction. This idea appears to be a necessary consequence of any mechanical theory of chemistry ; the speculation was, however, too far in advance of observation and experiment in BerthoUet's time to admit of being properly interpreted. It will hereafter be found that the chemical statics foreshadowed the true dynamical theory of molecular forces ; and the work will ever be looked upon as one of the most remarkable contributions to chemistry. As the theory of indefinite chemical combination could not be interpreted and harmonised with the facts of the science at that time, in the form in which it was put forward by Berthollet it was erroneous, and led to a controversy with Proust, who maintained the opposite opinion with great ability. This controversy was useful to science, and undoubtedly directed general attention to the phenomena of com- bination and decomposition, and paved the way for the discovery of the laws which govern those phenomena.
The study of crystalline forms, which from the commencement of the eighteenth century began to attract attention, revived to some extent the old corpuscular theory of the Greeks. Newton speaks of the ultimate particles as being hard and impenetrable. Leeuwenhoeck tells us that a cube of common salt is formed by the
The Progress of Chemical Science, 437
union of an infinity of smaller cubes. Buffon, following out tto idea, concluded that it could not be doubted that " the primitive and constitutional parts of this salt are also cubes so small that they will always escape our eyes and even our imaginations." Eom^ de risle, who may be said to have laid the first foundation of crys- tallography by the establishment of the important laws of the invariability of the angles of the crystals of the same substance, no matter how unequally the development of the faces which fonn the angle may have taken place (a law first indicated by Gulielmini), and that every face of crystal has a similar one parallel to it, has the following remarkable passage in the se- cond edition of his CristaUographie : " Germs being inadmissible to explain the formation of crystals, we must necessarily suppose that the integrant or similar molecules of bodies have each, according to the nature which is proper to it, a constant figure determined by the figure of the constituent principles themselves of those same molecules."^ To every substance then he assigned a special form, determined by the integrant molecules, which he called the primitive form, and from which he derived all the secondary forms which the same substance could assume, by supposing that the angles and edges were truncated. Haiiy, the contemporary of Kome de PIsle, established the law which governs those trunca- tions and modifications, and which is known as his law of sym- metry.2 This law may be briefly expressed thus : If any angle or edge of a crystal be removed by a truncation, or modified in any other way, all the similar edges and angles will be similarly modi- fied, and all the dissimilar parts will not be so modified, or will be modified differently. When the faces or edges which form the modified part are equal, the modifications produce the same effect on the form of the crystal ; in the contrary case, they produce a different effect.
Even with a very limited number of simple types of form, the number of possible new or derivative forms, which this process of tnmcating the edges and angles could give, would be almost end- less. But there is a very beautiful natural law which is a necessary consequence of Haliy's theory of crystals, and limits the number of truncations which could occur on the crystalline form of each sub- stance. If we take a square bar or rod of wood, it will represent what we should in crystallography call a right square prism. Let the four end edges of one end of this be cut so as to make the end terminate in a little pyramid. Now such a pyramid may be made elongated or shortened, that is, we may point our bar with a long sharp four-sided point, dr we may make it quite stumpy. It is quite clear that between the shortest and the most elongated
^ Crystallographie, 2d ed. torn. i. p. 22 ; Pari?, 1783.
' Essai dune Theorie sur la Structure des Cnataux : Paris, 1784.
438 The Progress of Chemical Science.
ends we could suppose an almost infinite number of ends. Let us make the longest or most pointed end we can, and saw it off, so as to have a complete four-sided pyramid. Then let us make a, series of such pyramids, each succeeding one being more obtuse than the preceding one. The number, it is clear, would be limited only by our skill in marking the successive degrees of stumpiness. If we place these pyramids on a table in the order in which we cut them off, we shall have a series which will decrease in height from the sharpest to the bluntest. There are crystals of the shape of this bar, sometimes terminated by pyramids, but more frequently having only the edges cut off or truncated, presenting, in fact, the appearance of the first cut on the edges of the wooden bar ; these rudimentary faces may be completed in imagination by supposing them to be extended until they would form a point. Instead, however, of the endless series of points which we could cut on the bar, nature only produces a very limited number on the crystal of each substance. But the height of all those pyramids which actually occur, or may be completed in imagination on a particular crystal- line form, would present a remarkable relationship. If we select the height of one of them as a unit of measure, the heights of the others will be one and a half, twice, three times, four times, &c. the unit, or one-fourth, one-third, one-half, three-quarters, &c. of it; that is, the heights would be simple multiples or submultiples of one of them. This beautiful law applies to all possible figures, and we may consequently express it in general terms, thus : the parameters of all the faces which occur upon the forms in which a body crystallises, that is, so much of the half axes of a crystal as these faces cut, or may cut, if sufficiently prolonged, imless when the face is parallel to one or more of the axes, bear to each other the simple ratios above mentioned.
An idea that such a law governed the weights in which bodies combined seems to have suggested itself to the minds of several chemists. Among others, we find it actually assumed by William HigginS; in discussing the composition of sulphurous and sulphuric acid, in a work of great ability, published in 1789 in defence of the views of Lavoisier, which, we believe, he was the first to adopt in Great Britain.^ Higgins does not seem to have been himself con- scious of the value of the ideas which floated through his mind, and no one else appears to have noticed them. Proust at a later period, in his controversy with Berthollet, almost touched it. It remained, however, for John Dalton to see the law in all its gene- rality. By connecting them with the ancient Greek corpuscular theory, he was able to reduce all the laws which govern the pro- portions in which bodies combine together by weight to the sim-
3 A Comparative View of the Phlogistic and Antiphlogistic Theories; London, 1789.
The Progress of Chemical Science, W9
plest expression. Nothing can exceed in simplicity and beauty these four laws, which may be thus stated : 1. all bodies combine in definite proportions, and the same body is always composed of the same constituents, miited in the same proportions ; 2. sub- stances may combine in several proportions, and if one of those be taken as unity, the others bear the simple relations to them of 1 to 1, 1 to 2, &c. ; 3. if certain weights of two bodies combine Tvitli a given weight of a third, they will combine with one another in the same proportion, or in a multiple or submultiple of it ; 4. the sum of the weights of the constituents of a compound body represents the proportion in which that compound would itself combine with another body. The first, or law of definite proportion, was, as we have already seen, enunciated by Bergmann and Wenzel ; the second corresponds with the law of symmetry of Haiiy, and thus links weight and form ; the third is Wenzel's law of equi- valents; and the fourth, which is the direct consequence of the others, could only have arisen by the correlation of the others.
Aided by the experiments of Wollaston and Thomson, but above all by Berzelius, the atomic theory was generally accepted. To the last-named chemist the world is indebted for the table of equivalents of the simple bodies, one of the noblest monuments of skill, labour, and perseverance of which any science can boast.
If bodies combine together in multiple proportions, and if the geometrical forms in which solid bodies crystallise are developed according to an analogous law of growth, it must necessarily follow that there must be some relation between the volume or space oc- cupied by the gases or vapours of substances and the proportional weights according to which they combine. This relationship was discovered by Gay Lussac, who found that, when gases combined, the volumes of the combining gases and of the gas produced bore a very simple relation to each other, of 1 to 1, 1 to 2, and so on ; and that the law of multiple proportion by weight applied also to combinations by volumes ; that is, that there was a distinct con- nection between the weights of bodies and their volume, or, in other words, their specific gravities might be determined from their combining numbers.
It is weU known that the same quantity of heat does not pro- duce the same heating effect as measured by the thermometer upon different bodies ; thus the quantity of heat which would elevate a given weight of water 3° would elevate a similar mass of mercury 83°. If we agree to represent the unknown quantity of heat which would raise a given quantity of water 1° by unity, it is obvious that the relative amounts of heat required for heating equal weights of water and mercury would be as 1 to l-28th, and these numbers would represent what are called their specific heats. If instead of equal weights of the two bodies we compare quanti-
440 The Progress of Chemical Science.
ties proportional to their atomic weights, we find that the specific heats are practically equal This curious discovery regarding the specific heats of the simple bodies was made by Dulong and Petit. Neumaim and Avogadro subsequently extended it to some com- pounds, that is, they found that similar compounds had nearly the same specific heats. But it is to ]\I. Regnault that we are indebted for the most complete and extensive investigations on this im- portant subject, by which the perturbations to which the law is subject were determined.
Boyle and Mariotte long ago, in studying the effects of pressure upon air, recognised the existence of a law which, as expressed by the latter, is, that the volume of a gas is directly as the pressure, and the elasticity or spring which it opposes to compression inversely as that pressure ; that is, that if we double the pressure on a gas, we reduce its volume to half, and double its elasticity. This law was now applied to each gas as it was discovered ; but it was so6n found that very few followed it absolutely. We shall return again to the subject of these deviations. Another law of gases intimately connected with the law of specific heat and the law of Mariotte, is Gay Lussac's law of the expansion of gases. He found that equal volumes of different gases expanded equally with equal increments of heat.
If the same force, whether mechanical or of heat, when applied to different gases caused their molecules to approach or recede an equal distance from each other, it was natural to suppose that under similar conditions the molecules of gases were equally separate from each other, and consequently equal volumes of the simple gases contained an equal number of atoms. The latter hyi^othesis, how- ever, introduced a distinction between equivalent — that is, the smallest quantity of a body which appeared to take part in the reaction by which bodies were formed or decomposed — and atom, or the smallest particle of matter which could not be further divided. An equivalent of chlorine and one of hydrogen occupy equal volumes, and consequently their specific graAdties are directly proportional to their equivalents ; that is, if we make the unit of comparison for both equivalents and specific gravity 1 of hydrogen, the equi valent and specific gravity will be the same. But an equivalent of oxygen taken as 8 occupies only half the volume of that of chlorine or hydrogen. Again, the volume of sulphur is only one-sixth of that of hydrogen, and consequently only one-third that of oxygen. Some of the other elements also were anomalous, but it did not ex- tend to their compounds; and so chemists were enabled to assume a theoretical volume for sulphur, and for some others, coiresponding to the volumes they appeared to enter into combination witL The simple bodies capable of being converted i»to gases accordingly arranged themselves under two categories — those the volume of
The Progress of Chemical Science, 441
whose equivalent was equal to that of oxygen taken as unity, and those whose equivalent occupied the space of that of hydrogen, or 2. There were two ways of equalising this difference, so as to make the symbols in a formula express equal volumes. One was to halve the received proportional numbers of the two-volume bodies, and to caU the halves atomic weights, so that some bodies would be always assumed to combine in two atoms, that is, two atoms would represent their equivalent ; while in the case of oxygen and the other one-volume gases, the atomic weight and equivalent would be the same. The second method would have been to double the equi- valent of the oxygen class, so as to make the proportional numbers of all the simple bodies correspond to equal volumes. The former method was adopted by Berzelius and the majority of chemists for a considerable time ; the second method, with some exceptions which will be noticed hereafter, is now preferred. If we consider water to be composed of one equivalent of oxygen and one of hydrogen, its formula would be HO ; if we look upon it as formed of two atoms of hydrogen and one of oxygen, we should write it HgO, the 0 representing 8 if we assume the atomic weight of hydrogen to be half its proportional number. If, on the other hand, we make the atomic weight of hydrogen the same as its proportional number, and make the proportional numbers of oxygen and hydrogen re- present equal volumes, 0 will be 16 as is now assumed.
The relation between the density and the volume of gases sug- gested the importance of endeavouring to establish a similar con- nection between the density and volume of liquids and solids. The first who attempted it was M. Dumas; but tbe chemist who has laboured most at this difficult and somewhat barren task is Professor Kopp. Some of the specific volumes obtained for bodies which resemble each other in constitution a,re remarkable for simplicity. This subject will be the foundation of the new chemistry. Specific volume naturally leads us to consider the law of specific form, or the relation between the shape and composition of solid bodies. Starting from an observation of Gay Lussac, that potash and am- monia alums can mingle in all proportions, without the forms being altered, and that even the same crystal of alum may be alternately put into solutions of the two salts and still continue to grow without undergoing any perceptible modification, Mitscherlich established the law that salts, and in general compounds which have the same atomic formulae, may crystallise and mingle in all proportions in the crystal obtained, without the latter being modified in its fundamental form, although the angles undergo a slight alteration in their value. This identity of form and faculty of substitution is common to all classes of bodies, simple and com- pound, and was called by its discoverer isomorphism. Bodies were said to be isomorphic when they could crystallise in the same way,
442 The Progress of Chemical Science,
stand as substitutes for each other without changing the general character of the product, and be considered to have the same num- ber of atoms united in the same manner.
While these remarkable laws, which connected in so beautiful a manner the weight, volume, and form of different kinds of matter on the one hand, and the relation of heat to all three on the other, were being investigated, the science was making gigantic strides in the other direction. The determination of the equivalents of bodies by Berzelius totally changed the character of chemical ana- lysis ; hundreds of new compounds were discovered annually, many by Berzelius himself, in the course of his experiments for the deter- mination of equivalents. The combinations of the simple bodies with oxygen, sulphur, and chlorine were especially examined, and careful analyses of the salts which those compounds mutually formed were made, while the introduction of symbolic nomenclature, also by Berzelius, enabled chemists to express with great facility the composition of bodies, and their views regarding the reactions which take place when different substances are brought together. The materials for framing a general theory to explain chemical phe- nomena were at length accumulated, and the task was undertaken by the man whose gigantic labour had gathered a large part of those materials. Before briefly explaining what that theory was, we must say a few words upon another fundamental point of con- nection, which had been previously established between chemical and physical phenomena.
While Lavoisier and his contemporaries were forming a new science, Galvani, a professor of Bologna, made the memorable dis- covery that, when the lumbar nerve and the muscle of the thigh of a frog are brought into contact by means of a metallic arch, the muscle contracts. He attributed this phenomenon to an excita- tion produced by an electric discharge ; he looked upon the muscle as a kind of Leyden jar, charged on the inside with positive elec- tricity, and on the outside with negative electricity, the nerve and metallic arch acting simply as conductors. Although many of the theoretical views of Galvani have been shown to be erroneous, his experiments have been amply confirmed ; and we now know that the action of the muscles is accompanied by the development of electricity. So curious an observation could not fail to attract considerable attention at a time when the minds of scientific men were excited by the almost daily announcement of some important discovery. Galvani's experiments were repeated, and found to be correct ; but his explanations were disputed by several, especially by Volta, the professor of physics at Pavia. He endeavoured to show that the cause of the phenomenon was in the metalUc arch, and not in the animal organism. In endeavoming to establish this theory, he discovered dynamical electricity, and the instru-
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ment by which it is produced — the voltaic pile or battery — un- questionably the most beautiful and important physical instrument yet discovered. We need not stop to discuss his theory of its action ; suffice it to say that a voltaic element consists essentially of two substances which combine chemically, and of a conductor. In practice we generally use sulphuric acid and zinc as the che- mical agents, and platinum, copper, or even charcoal, as the con- ductor. With this new instrument Mr. Carlisle and Mr. Nicholson succeeded, in 1800, in decomposing water and getting both consti- tuents free, at opposite poles of the battery, as if each was in a different state of electricity. Water being an oxide of hydrogen, could not dynamical electricity decompose other oxides too, and separate the constituents in a corresponding electro-polar con- dition ? Sir Humphrey Davy, by means of a very powerful voltaic battery, fomid that this was so, — that the decomposition of water was in fact a type of all electro-chemical decompositions ; that is, that the elements were separated, like those of water, at opposite poles, and therefore in opposite states of electricity. On sub- mitting potash and soda to the action of his powerful battery, he had the satisfaction to find that they decomposed into new metals, with properties totally unlike any of the metals known previously, and oxygen ; thus fully verifying the prediction of Lavoisier, that the earths generally were combinations of metals. These dis- coveries of Davy were not only important in themselves as a con- tribution to the chemical knowledge of matter, but they also formed the starting-point of that brilliant series of discoveries with which the name of Faraday especially will be for ever asso- ciated ; and lastly, they may be said to have been the origin of the electro-chemical theory.
It is not necessary here to describe this theory in any detail ; it will be sufficient to state its general principles as it finally left the hands of Berzelius. Its fundamental principle was, that elec- tricity is the cause of all chemical activity, the source of the heat and fight observed in chemical reactions ; the latter forces being, perhaps, but transformations of the electricity. Matter was sup- posed to consist of finite atoms which were electrically polar, the poles of each atom not being of equal strength ; according as one or other pole was stronger, the atoms are electro-positive or electro- negative. Combination consists in the juxtaposition of those atoms ; all bodies that have a chemical relationship to each other assume, when they come in contact, opposite electrical states, the intensity of which is in proportion to their chemical relationship, that is, to their special nature, since in the electro-chemical theory an original difference of matter was assumed. If the mechanical contact passes into chemical affinity, the opposite electricities of the atoms more or less neutralise each other, and the signs of
444 Tlie Progress of Chemical Science.
electrical excitation more or less cease. When the compound thus formed is subjected to the action of a voltaic battery, the atoms again become electrically excited and separate, and are attracted by the poles in an opposite state from themselves. When two atoms combine they form a compound atom, which is mechanically, though not chemically, indivisible. As the strength of the che- mical affinity of bodies depends not so much upon the difference between the relative force of the poles of each atom as in general upon the intensity of the polarisation, which varies, however, with the temperature and other physical circumstances, and as this variation is not equal under like circumstances for all bodies, it rarely happens that the electricities of two atoms are completely neutralised by combination. According as the negative or positive electricity is in excess, so the compound will be either positive or negative. Two compound atoms may thus be able to form a still more complex mechanically indivisible atom, and so on. There were therefore simple atoms, complex atoms of the first degree, complex atoms of the second degree, and so on. All combinations taking place in virtue of electrical dualism, each class of atoms was divided into electro-negative bodies and electro-positive bodies. Among the simple substances, oxygen, sulphur, chlorine, &c. repre- sent the electro-negative elements, and the metals the positive ones ; the complex atoms of the first degree, or oxides, sulphides, &c., formed by the union of an electro-negative body and an electro- positive one, form two series likewise, an electro-positive and electro- negative one, the former being bases and the latter acids, which by their union produce salts ; while two salts may unite to form double salts, one of which may be supposed to be electro-negative to the other. From what we have stated with regard to the variation of electrical intensity in the same atoms, it will be evident that in many cases the same body may be electro-negative or positive according to circumstances. We have said that salts are atoms of the second degree formed by two complex atoms of the first de- gree. Berzelius called these salts amphid salts ; they included all the salts of oxygen and sulphur acids, with oxygen and sulphiu* bases. In the atoms of the first degree formed by chlorine, bromine, and the other elements of what is called the halogen group, the electro-polar intensities of their simple atoms so nearly balance each other, that they are nearly or entirely neutral. Accordingly Berzelius called them halogen salts.
This theory afforded explanations generally satisfactory of most of the phenomena of chemistry known at the time, including the laws of combination by weight and volume, electro-chemical de- composition, isomorphism, and even BerthoUet's laws of chemical reactions, and was accordingly accepted by all chemists as a satis- factory theory of causation.
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At the time when the great laws of which we have attempted to sketch a brief history were discovered, the chemistry of organic bodies, — that is, of the materials and products of plants and ani- mals,— formed part of that nnoccupied territory of which there is much in every new science, and into which only a few bold pio- neers occasionally venture. Pourcroy, the greatest of the public teachers of Paris at the beginning of the present century, and fellow-labourer with Vauquelin, one of the founders of analytical chemistry, tells us, in his System of Chemistry, that the analysis of a vegetable may be very accurately made by separating some twenty substances. Until the true nature of the simple bodies, oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen, and carbon, was determined, nothing of course could be known of the ultimate composition of organic bodies. We may say the same of the proximate composition, that is, of the different compound bodies of which the organs of plants and animals are made up ; as the proximate compounds can only be accurately defined by making their ultimate analysis, that is, by determinmg the proportion of the different elements of which they are formed.
Lavoisier considered that in every acid there was an acidifiable base, to which Guyton de Morveau aj)plied the term radical, united to the acidifiable principle oxygen. Scheele had discovered that when sugar is boiled with nitric acid it is converted into an acid ; which he proved to be identical with one existing natu- rally in many plants. Lavoisier looked upon sugar as such a radical, and oxalic acid as an oxide of it. Some time before 1817 Berzelius had observed a certain similarity between organic and inorganic compounds of oxygen ; as, for instance, in the power of the former to combine, like the latter, with oxygen in several, and often multiple, proportions. Appljdng the principles of tlie-ekc-tro- chemical theory to the compounds, he concluded that they too should be looked upon as oxides. In the second Swedish edition of his Chemistry, he tells us, that " the difference between organic and inorganic bodies consists herein, that in inorganic nature all oxidised bodies have a simple radical ; while all organic substances, on the other hand, are made up of oxides with compound radicals." He looked upon inorganic bodies as the types of organic ones, but only in the sense that, whatever knowledge we may ever attain to about the composition and mode of formation of organic bodies, would come from the application of the ideas and methods of inorganic chemistry. He does not appear to have thought that our knowledge of organic chemistry would ever be very extensive ; for he believed that the same laws did not govern organic and inorganic combination, as the following passage in the last edition of his Chemistry will show : "In living nature the elements appear to obey quite different laws from those of inorganic nature ; the
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products which result from the reciprocal action of these elements differ therefore from those which inorganic nature presents. If we could find out the cause of this difference, we should have the key of the theory of organic chemistry ; but this theory is so concealed that we have no hope whatever of discovering it, at least for the present/'
Berzelius's idea that organic bodies were compounds of radi- cals led to no immediate practical results ; but Gay Lussac having shown that alcohol might be looked upon as a combination of one volume of the carbide of hydrogen olefiant gas and one of the vapour of water, and ether of two volumes of olefiant gas and one of the vapour of water, the view was adopted and extended by Dumas and Boullay in connection with their investigation upon the com- pound ethers. They concluded that olefiant gas, or, as they called it, etherine (C3HJ, plays the part of a strong base, and saturates acids like ammonia ; that alcohol and ether are hydrates, and the compound ethers salts of it. The analogy in composition, so far as formulse went, of etherine and ammonia, was certainly very considerable. The etherine theory was the first attempt to connect a number of bodies by a common link, and historically therefore is of great importance.
In 1832 Liebig and Wohler discovered that a group of mole- cules represented by the formula C7H5O could perform the func- tions of a simple body, and be transferred unchanged during a number of reactions in which it was obtained in combination with oxygen, chlorine, bromine, iodine, sulphur, &c. To this group, which they did not succeed in isolating from its combinations, they gave the name of benzoyle. Berzelius at once adopted the con- clusions of the chemists just named, and extended them, in oppo- sition to the etherine theory, to ether and alcohol, by proposing to consider the former of those bodies as the oxide of a hypothetical group, or radical CgH^. Liebig in turn adopted this view of the constitution of ether, and called the radical ethyle ; and having established, by his investigations upon the acid formed by sul- phuric acid and alcohol called sulphovinic acid, the inadequacy of the etherine theory, he extended the radical theory to all com- pounds whose metamorphoses and derivatives had been sufiiciently examined ; that is, he considered organic bodies as compounds, in accordance with the electro-chemical theory, of groups of atoms performing the functions of simple bodies.
After an impulse had been given to the daily accumulating observations of organic chemistry by the methods of analysis in- troduced by Gay Lussac and Th^nard, greatly simplified by Liebig, enlarged by Dumas's accurate method of determining nitrogen, the want of some general principle to link them together was so keenly felt, that the theory was at once accepted with general favour, until
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an observation of Gay Lussac afforded the germ of totally different ideas. He found that when wax is acted upon by chlorine, chlor- hydric acid is formed ; that is, hydrogen is removed, while at the same time an equal volume of chlorine enters the wax. Dumas, following up this clue, found that eight volumes of hydrogen could be removed from oil of turpentine, and eight volumes of chlorine substituted for them. Pursuing his experiments, he came to the conclusion, that by the action of chlorine, bromine, iodine, organic bodies lost hydrogen, and took an equivalent quantity of the re- agent. To this class of reactions the terms metalepsie and substi- tution were applied.
Laurent extended the examples of substitution by a series of remarkable investigations ; and, connecting the phenomena with the etherine theory, he constructed an extremely ingenious hypo- thesis known as the nucleus theory. In each organic compound he assumed a nucleus ; the simplest nuclei, unlike the radicals, are carbides of hydrogen, which can be got in a free state. These fun- damental nuclei he considered as geometrical figures formed of carbon and hydrogen atoms. Around these nuclei he supposed other atoms, elementary or complex, to be capable of grouping themselves without disturbing the equilibrium of the nucleus. These deposited atoms could be removed or replaced by others ; every addition, removal, or replacement altering the physical and chemical properties of the body formed. Neutral oxides were formed by the addition of one atom of oxygen, monobasic acids by the addition of two atoms, and so on. So far the etherine theory. Let us now see the part substitution played in his system. Both the radical and etherine theories admit that hydrogen could exist in two states in a compound, and substitution had demon- strated that it was so ; if it was admitted in the case of hydrogen, there was no reason why it should not be admitted in the case of all the elements ; there was nothing improbable therefore in the distinction between the nucleus and the atoms deposited upon it. Laurent supposed that the hydrogen of the nucleus might be re- moved in part or wholly, and its place occupied by chlorine, bro- mine, iodine, &c., and even by oxygen, sulphur, and several com- pounds. So long as the atoms removed were replaced by equivalent quantities of others, the group remained constant in its general chemical functions, its physical properties, such as density, boiling pomt, &c., changing of course with each atom substituted ; but then the changes thus produced would be regular, and might be predicted to some extent. When a substitution was effected in the fundamental or primitive nucleus, it was called a derivative nucleus, so that there were as many derivative nuclei as possible substitutions in the fundamental one. As each derivative nucleus could be the centre of a series of combinations outside it, in the
448 The Progress of Chemical Science,
same manner as the primitive one, the number of possible chemical compounds became enormous. This system presented for the first time a means of systematically classifying all organic bodies, of indicating their possible affinities, of predicting or anticipating many of the compounds that might be obtained in certain re- actions, and even of predetermining to some extent their physical properties and chemical functions. Its advantages as the basis of a classification are shown by its having been adopted for that purpose by Leopold Gmelin in the last edition of his Chemistry.
The researches and views of Laurent, the investigation by Eeg- nault of the changes which take place by the continued action of chlorine upon olefiant gas, and still more the discovery of chloro- acetic acid, or acetic acid, in which three-fourths of the hydrogen have been substituted by chlorine, by Dumas, led that chemist to reject altogether the electro-chemical theory, and propose in its place his theory of types. "When an organic body was treated with chlorine, bromine, &c., so as to remove hydrogen and replace it by an equivalent quantity of the reagent, the body was supposed to have maintained its type, and the substituting element or com- pound, no matter what might be its electro-polar character, occu- pied the place, and performed the functions of the replaced element. If the substitution took place without altering the chemical func- tions of the original body, both it and the derivative were said to belong to the same chemical type ; but if the substitution was accompanied by a definite change in chemical functions, the two bodies would be said to belong to the same mechanical or mole- cular type. Dumas extended his views to inorganic chemistry also ; and looking upon isomorphism as the indication of similar molecular constitution, he considered isomorphic gToups contain- ing the same number of molecules as types, such, for instance, as the alums. We have seen that Berzelius looked upon the laws of inorganic compounds as the starting-point of investigations into organic compounds. Dumas, on the contrary, declared at a very early period that he had " the firm conviction that the future pro- gress of general chemistry would be due to the application of the laws observed in organic chemistry." And he said farther that, ''far from confininor ourselves to take the laws of inoroanic che- mistry and introduce them into organic chemistry," he thought that " one day, and very soon perhaps, organic chemistry would give laws to mineral chemistry.'' In the electro-chemical theory the nature of the molecules governed the phenomena, and con- sequently i\iQ\v position in a compound depended upon tlieir nature. When Berzelius makes inorganic chemistry the type upon which he supposes the organic bodies to be formed, he evidently believes that, even in the multitude of compounds which carbon forms with two or three elements, the nature of the atoms is still the cause of
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all differences of property. The type theory, which, properly speak- ing, is not a theory in the same sense as the electro- chemical, bemg but an expression of facts without any attempt to explain the causes, evidently implies that the properties of bodies are the result of the position rather than of the nature of the elements of which they are composed. This is the fundamental distinction which exists between the two directions in which chemical spe- culations have tended for nearly thirty years.
According to the views of Berzelius, a radical was an un- changeable atomic group ; while it was wholly opposed to the fundamental principles of the electro-chemical theory to suppose that so electro-negative an atom as chlorine could perform the same functions in a group as hydrogen. He could not therefore accept the doctrine of substitution without giving up his own views. A warm controversy began between the advocates of the radical and types theories, the former endeavouring to account for the facts discovered by the latter by a mere sliifting of formulae. The mass of new facts which were brought forward on both sides in the course of this discussion profoundly modified both views. In the first place, it became evident that although the supposed radicals could be transferred unchanged in a series of double decompositions, just in the same manner as a simple body, they could not be considered as fixed and unchangeable groups. They were in fact nothing more than residues, or the parts of groups, which remained un- affected in a series of double decompositions. As the same com- pound could break up in many different ways, we could assume as many radicals in the same substance as there would be residues unaffected in all its possible double decompositions. There was no reason, therefore, to select some particular one of those residues, and consider it the radical of a series of compounds, except for the superior advantage which it might present for classification, by being the residue most frequently left in the more usual reactions. On the other hand, the successive substitution of chlorine and other bodies for hydrogen diminished its basyle power, and the substitution of acid residues even converted it into an acid. Chlorine and those acid radicals, although taking the place of hydrogen, did not therefore, strictly speaking, perform exactly the same function. This mutual modification of the rival hypotheses led to the development of a new type theory, which also admits of the hypothesis of compound radicals, but only in the sense of resi- <lues ; while the types themselves are only to be looked upon as convenient arrangements of formulcie for grouping together bodies which in double decompositions appear to react according to a common type. This new theory, although developed under the in- fluence of perfectly independent ideas, harmonises so beautifully with the new views on the nature of force, that it may be said to
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have prepared chemistry for being inckided at once in the general d3mamical theory of natural phenomena, which is now for the first time slowly unfolding itself to our minds. Before briefly describing this new view, it may be well to say a word upon the different ideas out of the convergence of which with those of the radical and first type theory it arose. We will not follow a strictly his- torical order, since to do so, however desirable, would be incom- patible with our space.
Sir Humphrey Davy thought that the oxygen acids of chlorine might be considered as chlorhydric acid to which oxygen was suc- cessively added, and consequently that the amphid salts of those acids might be assimilated to the chlorides of the metals. Dulong adopted this view, and extended it to all acids ; that is, he taught that all acids are compounds of hydrogen with an electro-negative body, which is either a simple or compound radical. Liebig suc- cessfully applied this hypothesis to the organic acids, and greatly extended the idea of acid by defining it to be a hydrogen compound whose hydrogen could be displaced by a metal, — a definition which includes not only water, but even hydrates of the alkalies ; Gra- ham having shown that the different kinds of phosphates might be explained by supposing that there were three distinct phosphoric acids, distinguished by the amount of water which they contained. Thus the acid with one equivalent of water formed salts with only one equivalent of base ; that with two of water formed salts with two of base ; and lastly, that with three of water gave salts with three of base. He called these acids monobasic, bibasic, and tri- basic respectively. Upon the hypothesis that acids were hydrogen compounds, monobasic phosphoric acid would be supposed to con- tain one equivalent of hydrogen displaceable by a metal, and the tribasic three. Liebig found that a large number of organic acids belonged to the class of polybasic acids. One of the most charac- teristic distinctions of such acids is their faculty of forming several classes of salts, according to the amount of hydrogen which they contain. Thus we may form a salt with a tribasic acid by replac- ing one of hydrogen by one of metal ; another by replacing two of hydrogen by two of metal ; and a third by replacing the whole of the hydrogen by three equivalents of metal.
This fertile hypothesis of the constitution of acids was rendered more definite by Laurent and Gerhardt, who established several important characteristic distinctions between the acids of different degrees of basicity. Thus they found that a monobasic acid never gives an acid silver salt by double decomposition, that it only forms one ammonia salt, one silver salt, one neutral ether, and one amide, that is, a substance formed from the ammonia salt by the loss of water ; bibasic acids give two ethers, — one neutral and the other acid, — two amides,— one neutral and the other
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;i monobasic acid ; and so on. Clilorliydric acid is analogous to monobasic oxygen acids in tlie indivisibility of its hydrogen ; water and sulphide of hydrogen, on the other hand, present striking analogy to bibasic acids in admitting of their hydrogen being ilivided. Besides organic radicals, almost every metal forms two oxides — a hydrated one, which may be compared to the acid salt of a bibasic acid, the anhydrous oxide — and also two corresponding sulphides. Led by this analogy, Laurent and Gerhardt doubled the equivalent of water, and consequently of sulphide of hydrogen and of the simple bodies oxygen and sulphur ; a proceeding justified already, as we have seen, by the convenience of making the equiva- lents of the simple bodies represent as far as possible equal volumes. On comparing the fornmlaj of organic compoimds, the chemists just named observed that in nearly all of them the number of oxygen, sulphur, and carbon atoms, in supposing them to represent the old equivalents, and not the double ones just spoken of, was even ; while the sum of the hydrogen and chlorine atoms, or other body supposed to substitute hydrogen, was always divisible by two. They argued that this could not be an accident, but must be due to the elements themselves ; hence they thought that the formulae of .substances which were exceptions to this rule should be doubled, so as to make them accord with it. Here was another reason for doubling the eqiuvaleiit of water. When this change was made in the formulgc, it was noticed that the volume of nearly all organic compounds in the state of vapour was double that of hydrogen ; and, further, that nearly all volatile inorganic bodies had the same volume. If the specific gravity of all simple bodies, the volume of whose equivalent w^as equal to that of hydrogen, was the same as their proportional number when hydrogen was adopted as a com- mon standard for both, it was evident that the specific gravity — compared to hydrogen — of the vapour of any compound which followed the rule we have just stated, should be equal to half its equivalent, no matter how many atoms it might contain.
The classical experiments of Chevreul on fats and oils, and the subsequent ones of Redtenbacher, Laurent, and others, had made known a immber of organic acids, consisting of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen. Dumas, on coordinating them, observed not only that they all contained the same amount of oxygen united to different proportions of carbon and hydrogen, but also that those different proportions were multiples of C2H2, or if we double the equivalent of carbon, as is now done, of CHo. Gerhardt saw at once the evi- dent relation of this observation to the rule of atomic pairs above mentioned, and he was led to classify organic compounds into similar series, the members of each of which should have the same chemical function, the same quantity of oxygen, &c., while their carbon and hydi-ogen should differ by CHo, or a simple VOL. IV. h h
453 The Progress of Chemical Science,
multiple of it. Of course the carbides of hydrogen containing no oxygen could be arranged in similar series. He called those series homologous. He ftirther observed that when the bodies forming a homologous series are subjected to the same reaction, they yield analogous products, which, when the reaction is simple, are homologous to one another. On putting the formulae of a number of such kindred homologous series arranged into columns side by side, so that the corresponding bodies containing the same amount of carbon may be in the same horizontal line, another re- lationship becomes apparent ; the corresponding bodies will differ from each other by multiples of Ho. This relationship is termed isology. The classification of bodies into homologous series effected a revolution in chemistry, for it brought together bodies between which no one had suspected any relationship to exist. A third kind of series, called a heterologous series, may be supposed to consist of bodies containing the same radical, to which one or more equivalents of oxygen, sulphur, &c. are successively added. Hetero- logy applies to inorganic as well as to organic bodies ; but homo- logy and isology belong exclusively to the compounds of carbon, though Mr. Sterry Hunt suspects that the former may be obseiTcd in certain mineral types. From the isomorphic and other ana- logies of silicon and carbon this is to be expected.
Among the many substances which the proximate analysis of plants brought to light were certain crystalline compounds con- taining nitrogen, which have the property of forming salts with acids, such as morphia, quinia, &c. Berzelius looked upon those bodies to be what he called conjugate compounds of ammonia, with different radicals containing carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen. In conjugate compounds the associated bodies were supposed to un- dergo very little modification by being joined together, and the am- monia was therefore considered to exist as such in the natural bases. Liebig, on the other hand, considered that they were deri- vatives of ammonia, formed by the separation of hydrogen either as chlorhydric acid, water, &c., from ammonia by the action of electro-negative chlorides, or of oxides, &c., and the substitution of NHo ; or, in other words, that they were organic bodies of the same type as the ammonia salts of copper, zinc, mercury, &c., called by Sir R Kane amides, and therefore quite analogous to oxamide — a body obtained by Dumas in heating the neutral oxalate of am- monia so as to remove from it the elements of water. This in- genious suggestion was the starting-point of the disco veiy of an almost innumerable number of compounds, although the view of Liebig has been somewhat modified. The production of aniline, as the first example of this class of bodies directly produced, deserves to be specially noticed. Fritsche, by distilling indigo with hydrate of potash, obtamed a basic oil to which he gave the name aniline.
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When the light part of coal-tar naphtha, which consists in great part of a carbo-hydrogen called benzine, is acted upon by strong nitric acid, a dense oil, having the odour of oil of bitter almonds, and known as nitro-benzid, is obtained ; it is a substitutive compound in which one equivalent of the hydrogen is replaced by NO^. When the oxygen compounds of nitrogen are acted upon by sulphide of hydro- gen, their oxygen is converted into water and their nitrogen into ammonia, while sulphur is precipitated. Professor Zinin imagined that the same reaction ought to take place upon the nitrogen com- pound in the nitro-benzid ; and if so, tlie ammonia formed would remain in the compound instead of the hydrogen originally dis- placed. The experiment succeeded, and he obtained an oily basic substance, which Professor Hofmann proved to be identical with aniline, and with a basic body which had been obtained from tar. Immense quantities of aniline are now made by this process for the purpose of preparing other bases from it, which yield the rich purple, crimson, and other dyes now so largely used.
The mode of formation of aniline just given is quite in accord- ance with Liebig's view, for we may suppose one equivalent of the hydrogen of benzine to be replaced by NHo. But the bases ob- tained by M. Wurtz, containing the radicals of common alcohol and its homologues, lead to the view that those bases are ammonia, in which one equivalent of hydrogen is displaced by the radicals in question. As the hydrogen of ammonia can be divided into three parts, we ought to be able to get three different bases, according as we substitute one, two, or three equivalents of the hydrogen ; and this was done by Prof Hofmann, who has pursued this subject of organic bases with such rare patience, perseverance, and skill, that he has created a whole department of chemistry.
When alcohol is moderately heated mth sulphuric acid it yields ether : the usual explanation given of this process was, that sul- phuric acid separated water from the alcohol, and consequently that alcohol was a hydrate of ether, which in turn was an oxide of ethyle. Alcohol and ether, therefore, bore to each other the same relation as hydrate of potash and anhydrous oxide of potassium. Although the process of etherification consisted essentially in the separation of water, still there was a difficulty in explaining it. Professor Williamson resolved the difficulty, by proving that, when sulphuric acid, which is bibasic, and alcohol come together, a double decomposition takes place, by which the radical of one equivalent of alcohol CoH. exchanges place with one equivalent of the hydrogen of the acid, by which the alcohol becomes water and the acid sulphovinic acid, that is, an acid salt of ethyle ; when this acid salt comes in contact with another equivalent of alcohol, an- other exchange takes place, one equivalent of the hydrogen of the alcohol exchanges place with the ethyle of the acid salt, by which
454 The Progress of Chemical Science.
the latter becomes sulphuric acid and the alcohol ether. Ether has coiisequeiitly a formula double of that usually assigned to it. Alcoliol may, therefore, be supposed to be derived from water in which one equivalent of its hydrogen (for, from what we have said already about the analogy of water to bibasic acids, we shall always speak henceforth of water mtli an equivalent double that formerly assumed) is substituted by one of ethyle, and ether from one of water in which the two equivalents of hydrogen are replaced by two of ethyle. Hydrate of potash corresponds to alcohol, and anhydrous oxide of potassium to ether. As in other bibasic acids, we ought to be able to substitute for the two equivalents of hydro- gen in water two different metals ; and this we can do, for if hydrate of jiotash be heated with zinc, the second equivalent of liydrogen is driven out, and zinc takes its place. An analogous compound to this would be an ether containing two distinct radi- cals ; a class of compounds of which Professor Williamson pre- pared several examples, thereby furnishing a comjDlete test of the constitution of ether.
If hydrous and anhydrous oxides, alcohol and ether, are consti- tuted upon the type of water, so must acids be also ; and if so, the anhydrous acid, or, as it is now called, the anhydride, must bear the same relation to the acid properly so called as anhy- drous oxide of potassium does to the hydrous oxide, and as ether does to alcohol ; and we ought to be able to get mixed anhy- drides corresponding to Williamson's mixed ether, that is, an- hydrides with two distinct radicals, which, by combining with one equivalent of water, ought to split into two distinct acids. Here, again, experiment confirmed theory ; for not only did Gerhardt succeed in getting the anhydrides of a number of acids by processes which fully tested the theory, but he also produced a number of mixed anhydrides.
Gerhardt generalised these views of the relations of acids, bases, alcohols, and ethers to water, by proposing to represent all the reactions of bodies, inorganic as well as organic, by four types of double decomposition.
I. For chlorides, bromides, iodides, fluorides, cyanides, he se- lected as the type chlorhydric acid HCl. If in this type we sub- stitute the hydrogen by aU the metals successively we get the protochlorides of the metals. On the other hand, if we substitute the chlorme by bromine, iodine, &c., we get the corresponding bromides, iodides, &c.
XL The type water tt(0 includes: 1. hydrous basyle and
chlorous oxides, sulphides, selenides, and tellurides, organic as weU as inorganic, — that is to say, hydrous metallic oxides, alcohols, organic and inorganic acids, and acid salts of polybasic acids, inclu-
-N, and includes all the
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sive of vinic acids, or acids in whicli the whole of their displace- able hydrogen is not substituted by metals ; 2. anhydrous oxides, sulphides, selenides, and tellurides, includin.o- basyle anhydrides, or oxides, sulphides, &c., which are derived from water by the sub- stitution of all the hydrogen, and which form salts with acids, with the formation of one or more equivalents of water, or sul- phide of hydrogen, &c., according as they are oxides or sulphides, kc. ; simple and mixed ethers, or anhydrides formed by the sub- stitution of two molecules of the same or diiferent alcohol radicals, or an alcohol radical and a metal ; compound ethers, or ethers containing both a basyle and chlorous, — that is, acid, radical ; and lastly, amphid, basic, and neutral salts, or compounds in which the hydrogen of water is replaced by a metal and by a chlorous or acid radical.
H
III. The thii-d type is ammonia H
H
derivatives of ammonia formed by the substitution of part or the whole of the hydrogens by metals, alcohol, and acid radicals, and even by the metallic radical H^N, or ammonium. Some of the derivatives of this type may be acids ; for if we substitute acid radicals for the hydrogen, as Gerhardt did, we get neutral or acid bodies according to the extent to which the substitution is carried.
IV. The fourth type, hydrogen HH, represents the simple bodies and the compound radicals, which are of two kinds : first, those composed of two atoms of the same radical ; and secondly, those composed of atoms of different radicals. When one of the atoms is hydrogen and another an acid radical, we have the bodies caUed aldehydes, of which common aldehyde is an example.
Each of those types is supposed to represent a volume of vapour double that of hydrogen ; consequently the hydrogen type is made to consist not of one atom of hydrogen, but of two. Now this is not an arbitraiy proceeding for the purpose of equalising the vo- lumes, but appears to be really founded upon the properties of free elements. It has, in fact, been found that whenever chlorine, bro- mine, iodine, &c., act upon organic bodies, two equivalents always take part in the reaction, and two of hydrogen are always eli- minated. This circumstance has led chemists to the conclusion that the simple bodies in their free state are compounds ; for in- stance, that the radical hydrogen when in combination is not the free gas, but that the latter is a combination of hydrogen with hydrogen, free chlorine is a chloride of chlorine, &c. Indeed, in the case of the alcohol radicals, this may be considered to have been proved experimentally. Professor Kolbe and Professor Frank- land, by decomposing ethers with a voltaic battery, obtained what they considered to be the free radicals ; these bodies represent in
456 The Progress of Chemical Science,
reality two atoms, as has been proved by decomposing the mixed ethers, when mixed radicals ai^ produced. It is right to remark that this view of sim2)le bodies follows also as a necessary con- sequence from the electro-chemical theory. Moreover, it introduces a distinction between atom, molecule, and equivalent. An atom is the smallest quantity of a body that can exist in combination ; a molecule is the smallest quantity which exists free ; and an equi- valent is the relative quantity of a body which displaces another. Experiment shows us that all bodies do not displace each other atom for atom. Many of the metals, chlorine and the other halogens, and many organic radicals replace each other and hydro- gen atom for atom, and may hence be called monatomic. Oxygen, sulphm", seleniimi, and several radicals always act in the ratio of 1 to 2 of hyckogen or other monatomic body, and may therefore be called biatomic. One atom of nitrogen, phosphorus, arsenic, antimony, bismuth, &c. represents three of hydrogen ; while car- bon, silicon, boron, titanium, tin, and some others appear to be tetratoniic. This idea of polyatomic radicals and molecules, which appears to have first suggested itself to Professor Williamson as an explanation of bibasic acids, has completed the new theory of types. It enables us to connect our four types, and to reduce them to their simplest expression — miity. The type chlorhydric acid, water, or ammonia, does not imply one equivalent only of those bodies, but may include multiples of them ; so that we may assume a body to be formed on the type of the chlorides, but derived from two or more equivalents of the type, which are as it were rivetted together by a polyatomic radical removing the hydrogen. In this way we may derive bichlorides, terchlorides, &c. from two, three, or more equivalents of chlorhydric acid, deutoxides, and teroxides, from two and three equivalents of water ; and so on. Again, we may suppose the fundamental type of aU types to be one or more molecules of hydrogen. If we substitute one atom of hydi'o- gen in a single molecule by one atom of chlorine, we have the chlorhydric acid type ; and as both are monatomic, the volume of the type occupies the sum of the volume of its constituents. Next, if we suppose two atoms of hydrogen to be replaced in two mole- cules of hydrogen by one of the biatomic radical oxygen, we get the type water ; two molecules of hydi'ogen represent eight volumes, but when the biatomic atom replaces fom' volumes, the compound contracts to four volumes. Again, if in three molecules or twelve volumes of hydrogen we suppose the triatomic radical nitrogen to replace three atoms or six volumes of hydrogen, we have the type ammonia, which likewise shrinks to four volumes ; and so on. In this way the type chlorhydric. acid has the same volume as the molecule from which it may be supposed to be derived, the type water only hal^ and ammonia one-third.
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We owe to Hofmann, Wnrtz, and Bertlielot chiefly, the experi- mental extension of the doctrine of polyatomic radicals — the first in introducing them into ammonia ; the second by the discovery of glycols, that is, alcohols whicH are to common alcohol what bibasic acids are to monobasic acids ; and the third by the establishment of triatomic and higher alcohols. A monatomic alcohol, such as common alcohol, by losing two atoms of hydrogen forms an alde- hyde ; and the latter by taking up one equivalent of oxygen be- comes a monobasic acid. Again, the radical can successively dis- place one, two, three, or fom' equivalents of hydrogen in ammonium, and form four distinct bases. We can get the alcohol to form com- binations with all acids giving rise to bodies known as compound ethers ; and lastly we can get chlorides, bromides, &c. of the radical. But we have not finished yet. Besides ammonia, there are the sub- stances phosphamine, arsamine, and stibamine, or ammonia in which phosphorus, arsenic, and antimony respectively replace the nitro- gen ; in each of these the alcohol radical can successively displace one, two, three, or four equivalents of hydrogen, and form peculiar bodies. From one alcohol, therefore, we may get several thousands of compoimcls belonging to each of the four types. With a bi- atomic alcohol we can get corresponding bodies ; but it can act as if it consisted really of two distinct monatomic atoms, which can simultaneously imdergo the same reaction, or two distinct and separate reactions, each atom being altered in a special manner. For instance, both may unite -svith an acid, or with another alcohol, or one only may do so, while the other oxidises or loses hydrogen and changes its functions, and yet both remain united after the separate changes. All this happens with a triatomic, a hexatomic, or a higher alcohol only, though in these cases we have to deal with three, six, or more alcohols, which may act together ; or one may act and the others remain inactive ; or two, three, four, or five may act together or separately, the remainder being inactive. For example, if we take a hexatomic alcohol, we may combine one, two, three, or four equivalents of it with one of ammonia, by which the combining power of the ammonia would be extinguished, but the combuiing power of the alcohols would only be partially extin- guished, so that we may then commence upon the compound as if it were a twenty-atomic alcohol. We need not proceed farther in this play of atoms. Wliat we have said will suffice to show how boundless a field is open to chemical industry for the manufacture of new bodies. We are tempted, however, to quote from M. Ber- thelot a passage which will give a better idea than mere figures can do of the extraordinary number of compounds which theoreti- cally are possible jQrom the combination of all the known acids set down at a minimum of one thousand with a single hexatomic alcohol, without taking into account aU the other compounds we
458 The Progress of Chemical Science,
noticed above. *' Suppose," lie says, " that we were to inscribe the names of these bodies in a series of volumes ; suppose that each name occupied a line, each page 100 lines, and each volume 1000 pages, each would contain 100,000 names. If we then take these volumes to range them in order in libraries, the size of which should be equal to that of the Imperial Libraiy, each of these libraries would contain about 1,000,000 of these books. Well, then, it would take 14,000 such libraries to contain, not the de- scription, but the names alone of the bodies of which I speak. The edifices destined to contain this list alone would cover a space almost as large as Paris."*
With each advance in theory the mioccupied territory of che- mistry had diminished; so that, after the introduction of Ger- hardt's classification according to homologous series, only a very small area was without the pale of a chemical constitution. Unfor- tunately, however, that area included the most important part of the subject ; for nothing whatever was known of the true nature of the compounds of which the organs of plants and animals are formed. These unclassed bodies, as they were known in 1854, M. Berthelot divides into six categories, which, somewhat modi- fied, we may enumerate as follows : 1. neutral fat bodies, or oils, butters, and solid fats of plants and animals ; 2. neutral saccharine bodies, represented by carbon united to the elements of water, such as cane, grape, and milk sugars ; 3. other neutral principles, some soluble and some insoluble, composed likewise of carbon united to the elements of water, cellulose, and other substances constituting the framework of plants, starch, gums, dextrine, &c. ; 4. neutral principles, consisting of carbon and the elements of water, but containing a slight excess of hydrogen or of oxygen, such as mannite, glycerine, &c. ; 5. a number of bodies, the majority of which crystallise, and which, under the influence of acids and other reagents, split into some kind of sugar and other bodies, such as salicine, amygdaline, tannins, certain colouring matters ; and (i. the quaternary albumenoid bodies, such as albumen, fibrin, &c.
The first class of bodies was the subject of Chevreul's masterly investigations, by which he showed how organic substances were to be examined. M. Berthelot had succeeded in performing the converse of Chevreul's experiments,- — that is, he had effected their synthesis by combining glycerine or fat sugar with the oily acids ; and in doing so he had shown that glycerine could form three successive compounds with each acid, for he did not confine his synthesis to fat acids alone, but obtained compounds analogous to fats with almost any acid, and, among others, with phosphoric acid, a compound which M. Pelouze had already recognised in tlie brain. M. Wurtz having suggested tliat glycerine was a triatomic ■• Sur les Principes Sucris— Lemons de Chimie et de Physique professies en 1862.
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alcoliol, the nature of fats was at once determined, — tliey were ethers. M. Berthelot saw at once that this idea might be extended to mannite and to the sugars ; and accordingly he attempted to form with those bodies comi)Ounds analogous to ethers, in which he was very successful. His synthetical experiments showed him that mannite and glucose, or grape sugar, were hexatomic alcohols, while cane sugar is ether. Sugars belong to at least two classes : 1. glucoses, which may be generally represented by the formula CgH^oOe, such as ordinary glucose of grapes, levulose or left- handed sugar, galactose or the glucose obtained from sugar of milk, inosine, a substance existing in animal muscles ; 2. saccha- roses of the formula CioHooOji, among which may be named sac- charose or common cane sugar, lactose or sugar of milk. All the glucoses are hexatomic alcohols ; while the saccharoses are ethers formed by the union of two glucoses, and the separation of the elements of water, as in the formation of all ethers. Starches M. Berthelot considers to have higher formulae than those assigned to them ; they are at least trisaccharides, formed by the union of three equivalents of some glucoses, and the elimination of three equivalents of water. Dextrine is at least a disaccharide. In the same way, he thinks cellulose, fibrose, vasculose, paracellulose, the substances of which, the walls of cells, fibres, vessels, and the medullary columns of plants are formed, are ethers of glucoses, probably disaccharides ; but we think them much more complex compounds.
The fifth class of bodies is very extensive, and appears to per- form important functions in plants. Its history would form a yqij interesting chapter ; but our space will only allow us to give a few- instances of the manner in which bodies belonging to it break up, and a general statement of their composition, viewed in the light of the theory of polyatomic alcohols. The common tannic acid of gall-nuts spUts into gallic acid and right-handed grape sugar; while the tannic acid of the Madura tinctorial or fustic, splits into glucose and a gallic acid homologous wath true gallic acid ; they are both trisaccharides. The colouring matter of the Quercus tinctoria, quercetrin or quercetric acid, splits into glucose and a yellow crystalline substance called quercetine ; quercetrin is ho- mologous with a body called phloridzine, found in the bark of the apple and pear tree, and which splits into glucose and phloretine, which is homologous with quercetine. In the bark of some species of willow there is found a white crystalline substance called sali- cine, which splits into glucose and saligenine ; in the poplar we have a corresponding substance called populine, which yields glu- cose, saligenine, and benzoic acid. Salicine is therefore a mono- saccharide, that is, an ether of the hexatomic alcohol glucose, in which only one of the atoms is extinguished ; while populine is a
460 The Progress of Chemical Science,
disaccharide which has two of the atoms extinguished by com- bination with two distinct bodies. To the same class of mixed compounds belong also amygdaline, a body found in the seeds of most of the plants belonging to the family to which the plum, the cherry, the almond, &c. belong, and also in certahi laurels, and which, in contact with a kind of ferment, also present in the plants, splits into glucose, oil of bitter almonds, and prussic acid; and myronate of potash, a salt existing in mustard, which, under the intiuence of a ferment likewise present in the mustard, splits into oil of mustard, acid sulphate of potash, and glucose. Oil of bitter almonds and oil of mustard do not therefore exist ready formed in the almond and mustard seeds. Another of those curi- ous sacchaiides is cork, which, so far as we can yet determine, contains a glucose and one or more fat acids. The cutine or ex- ternal layer or epidermis of plants appears to be an ammonia derivative of a saccharide, and therefore a link between the gluco- sides, as this curious class of bodies which we have included under the fifth category is called, and the sixth and last category of bodies unclassed in 1854, about which we shall now say a few words.
White of Qgg consists chiefly of a body composed of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, which has the property of coagu- lating by heat, and is called albumen. The same body, or at all events a very closely-allied substance, is found in the blood ; while a second variety occm's in the juices of plants. In the clot of blood another substance is found, which appears to be identical with the fibres of muscle, and is hence termed fibrhi. A third substance occurs extensively in the milk of animals, and under the name of casein is known as the pure substance of cm-d. These bodies are so closely related that analysis can scarcely detect any difference of composition between them, and they may be appa- rently transformed into each other. We may conveniently name them from their soluble type albumenoid bodies. Besides those mentioned, we find in the seeds of plants a number of sub- stances which apparently belong to this class, and perform an important function in the germination and florescence of plants. Perhaps those found in different families of plants are different bodies. In animals too we find a number of simdar substances which appear to stand in close connection with the albumenoid bodies ; such, for instance, as the matter that constitutes the lens of the eye, mucus, &c. Diastase, emulsin, and all other kinds of ferments, except those which consist of the mycelium of some species of fungus, appear to be modifications of some of them. M. Berthelot has not extended the theory of polyatomic radicals to those bodies ; and yet there can be no doubt that they too are derivatives of polyatomic alcohols, apparently ammonia deriva-
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lives, and in some eases also more complex ones of the mixed alcohol and ammonia type.
Cutine, or the epidermal layer of leaves, bulbs, &c. contains only about 2| per cent of nitrogen ; the chitine of insects, which forms not only the wing-cases of lepidopterous insects, but also the organic part of the tegumentary covermg of crabs and other Crustacea, the scales and hau'S of insects, and the mantle of the oyster, and many parts of the tissues of the lower animals, such as the trachea and even a layer of the intestinal canal, has only about 6 1 per cent of nitro- gen ; chondiin of the tendons and ligaments has 14^ per cent ; tibrin and albumen have about 15 per cent. We have pointed out above that cutine is a derivative of a hexatomic alcohol obtained "vvith ammonia. So long ago as 1845 Professor C. Schmidt of Dor- pat suggested that chitin contained the elements of a cellulose and a nitrogenous body, having the composition of the muscles of insects. There exists in a muscle, as a normal constituent of some part of the mass, one of the sugar family, called inosite ; and, in- dependent of the fact that animals secrete as a constituent of milk a saccharide lactose, or sugar of milk, it is well kno^vn that sugar is abundantly found in diseases of the lungs, and in several other dis- eases of the body, sometimes in very considerable quantities. Ac- cording to Dr. Schunck, the plants which yield indigo contain a soluble substance to which he gave the name of indican ; when boiled with strong acid it splits into a particular kind of sugar and blue indigo. The latter may be looked u]3on as the aldehyde of another body which is white and soluble. The peculiar sugar of the indican is a polyatomic alcohol, and the blue indigo may be looked upon as an ammonia derivative of some body related to the benzoic series. The apparent analogy which exists between the production of indigo from indican, and the production of chloro- phyle, or green colouring matter of leaves in blanched buds, and of the red colouring matter of blood from white chyle, led us to suspect that both are the products of the decomposition of a gluco- side. On treating white chyle globules with peroxide of hydrogen, a portion of the white chyle became red, and traces of some kind of sugar could be detected in the solution.
But we cannot follow out these relations any further. Enough, iiowever, has been said to show that step by step the chemist has traced up the chemical transformations of matter until, as we have just seen, there remains but one gi'oup of bodies of whose con- stitution he has not more or less learned the secret ; and that even that class itself, the very bodies by which the functions of animal life are carried on, has had a beam of light thrown upon it from the lamp of science.
We learn too from this analysis that as we proceed upwards the compounds become more and more complex. A group of atoms
46^ The Progress of Chemical Science*
constitntiiig the smallest free part of a body is made up of a great number of individual groups of simpler composition, and each of these again of others still simpler, until at length we reach tlie simple bodies. The more complex a group, the more unstable it is ; that is, the more easily it is broken into a number of simpler groups. Thus a triatomic alcohol is less stable than a monatomic one. Still more unstable are the hexatomic ones. So in a homo- logous series the more condensed substances are the most easily decomposed when heated. Again, the corresponding compounds formed by analogous substances are not equally stable ; thus, phos- phamine, which may be looked upon as ammonia in which phos- phorus replaces nitrogen, is far more liable to change than common ammonia or its derivatives ; indeed the complex derivatives of such a body must be among the most imstable substances of which w^e cau conceive, and therefore it is that they enter into the composition of the nerves and brain. When nervous or cerebral matter decays, we get among the products of phosphamine and its derivatives. Again, in the brain itself we find the materials out of which those remark- able bodies are elaborated in the form of an acid ether of phos- phoric acid with the triatomic alcohol glycerine, the alcohol of the majority of the fats. How complex and unstable must be the com- pounds which, in decomposing, serve to convey every thrill of plea- sure, of hope, of sorrow, every act of the will ; which enable us to distinguish the waves that produce light, whose length is measured in miUionths of an inch and their duration in millionths of a second, and to distinguish the quality and velocity of each wave in the storm of sonorous vibrations produced by a great orchestra !
But chemists no longer proceed by way of analysis. The classifi- cation by homologous series and types of double decomposition ; the division of reactions into homologous, isologous, and heterologous ; and the study of the reagents which produce either of those classes of reactions under given conditions of temperature and other circum- stances,— all this has opened the way to the synthesis of organic bodies with almost as much certainty as that of mineral bodies, making allowance for the great instability of the former. Although the first synthesis of an organic body was effected so long ago as 1828 by Wohler, it is only since about 1850 that the state of the science has admitted of its being attempted with success. The first chemist who took up the subject in a systematic way was Professor Kolbe ; but it is M. Berthelot who has been most successful, both in the number and importance of his syntheses. His researches have given a new direction to organic chemistry. Chemists are no longer satisfied with mere analysis; synthesis must confinn the conclusious of analysis. Within the last few years hundreds of oro^anic com- pounds have been made without the aid of life ; and there can be no doubt but that in a few years, notwitlistanding the opinion of Berze-
I
The Progress of Chemical Science, "i^S
lius that we could not hope to imitate the products of life, we shall be In a position to reproduce artificially the majority of the substances which constitute the proximate prmciples of plants and animals.
Tlie establishment of the new theory of types has abolished the distinction between oroanic and inorganic chemistry, — a distinc- tion which ought henceforward not to be kept up in teaching the science. The synthesis by double decompositions has removed the last barrier between them. And thus has been fulfilled a prediction of M. Dumas : " If I attach some importance to seeing this useless barrier which still separates the combinations of the two kingdoms disappear, it is precisely because I have the firm and profound conviction that the future progress of general chemistry will be rlue to the application of the laws discovered in organic chemis- try."^ How completely the author of this observation anticipated the character of the progress that has since been made, the preced- ing pages show.
The new type theory, like, the old one, is, strictly speaking, not a theory of causation ; to frame such a theory we must look upon chemical phenomena from a far wider point of view. We must get rid of those notions of the independence of phenomena, which the division of physical science into departments for its more con- venient pursuit engenders in our minds, and see how chemistry is to be made part of a great whole, embracing all branches of phy- sical science. The correlation which has been established between electricity, light, and heat, and the intimate relation they have with chemical action, show clearly that they are all due to the action of the same cause. The theory which attributes light to undulations of a medium of great tenuity, may be said to be now universally accepted. The labours of Sir William Herschel, See- beck, Sir David Brev/ster, De la Eoche, Berard, Melloni, Forbes, Knoblauch, Baden Powell, De Senarmont, and others, have assimi- lated heat and light, and proved that the phenomena of the latter can only be explained by a system of undulatory movements, wliich, when they take place in the same ether or medium as light, produce the phenomena of radiant heat; and when these finer waves communicate their motion to particles of ordinary matter they produce those phenomena of expansion, changes of physical state, and others which constitute an apparent distinction between heat and light. Indeed Melloni, so long ago as 1842, may be said to have demonstrated the identity of the two forces, subject to the test of the decisive experiment of interference, that capital pheno- menon by which Dr. Young established the undulatory theory of light upon a firm basis. This decisive experiment may be de- scribed as the production of cold by the simultaneous action of two rays of heat, just as we produce blackness from two rays of
^ Train de Chimie appliquCe mix Arts, torn. y.
464 TJie Progress of Chemical Science.
light mutually extinguishing each other. It was effected in 1847 by M. Fizeau and M. Foucault.
The moment we admit that heat is a motion capable of being communicated to the molecules of matter, we institute a connection between heat and the motion of masses. Lavoisier said that in chemical combination matter was not annihilated or created, it was only changed in form. We may now say the same of motion ; we cannot create or annihilate it, we can only change its character or direction. Energy or motion may, however, be dissipated ; thus the sun is always sending off countless waves of light and heat, which, although not annihilated, are lost to our system. When a weight falls to the ground, its motion is arrested, but it is not annihilated ; it is merely transformed into molecular motion or heat. So if a wheel be made to rotate by a given force and we suddenly arrest it by an obstacle, the rotatory mo- tion, like the rectilineal one, is transformed into heat. The work done by any force may always be compared to that required to lift a weight to a certain height; thus, the work which is ex- pended in lifting a pound weight one foot, or which would be available by allowing it to fall one foot, is called a " foot-pound ;" or, as in France, and generally by scientific men out of Great Bri- tain, the work which would be expended in lifting one kilogramme to a height of one metre is called a " kilogrammetre." The mecha- nical effect which a force produces, say in setting bodies in motion, in lifting a load, or in other purposes to which machines are applied, depends not only on the force, but on the distance through which it acts. Thus, if we employ the force of gTavity to produce a mechanical effect by means of a falling weight, we shall find that the work done during this fall is proportional to the quantity of the weight and the height from which it descends. Wlien a body falls, the velocity acquired is proportional to the time of its fall, — that is, the velocity of a body at the end of the second second of its fall is double, and at the end of the third second three times, that at the end of the first. The height fallen through is, on the other hand, proportional to the square of the time, or, what is the same thing, augments in the same proportion as the square of the velocity, which is proportionate to the time. If we impart to a body the velocity which it had acquired when its motion was arrested, while falling from a given height, it will rise to the same height ; but as the distance travelled increases as the square of the velocity, if we double the velocity of a projectile it will travel four times as far; if we quadruple it, it will go sixteen times ; and so on. The mechanical effect produced by a weight falling or expended in projecting it being proportional to the height, and the latter being proportional to the square of the velo- city, the power represented by any motion may be expressed by
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the product of the mass of the body in motion multiplied by the square of its velocity. Now if the whole of the motion of a falling body be converted into molecular motion, or, which, with the ex- ceptions we shall presently make, is the same thing, into heat, it is clear that the amount of heat produced by arresting a body in motion augments as the square of the velocity, and that we have a standard whereby to measure the relation between heat and motion.
The new views regarding heat which have been put forward during the last twenty years, and which are based upon the equi- valence of heat and motion just stated, are only a development of tlie Newtonian theory, which enables it to embrace the motions of molecules as well as of ma,sses. It does not come within our present scope to show how the experiments of Davy and Rumford, and the mathematical investigations of Bernoulli, Fourier, and Sadi-Carnot have been developed by Seguin, Mayer, Joule, Colding, Thomson, Rankine, Helmlioltz, Clusius, and others, into the first outlines, not merely of a theory of heat, but of a general dynamical theory of energy. Our object is only to direct attention to the bearing of this theory upon chemistry, and especially to show how profoundly it will modify the fundamental ideas of chemical phe- nomena. We may, however, state that the idea of equivalence between heat and the motion of masses, in the sense in which it is now understood, appears to have first occurred to Dr. Julius Robert Mayer of Heilbronn, and Mr. Joule of Manchester. The former attempted to determine its value, though perhaps upon an erroneous basis ; but his application of the hyjwthesis to animal power and heat, and to the solar system, show clearly that his ideas were correct. Mr. Joule worked out the subject experimentally with a perseverance that has rarely been equalled. These two men may therefore be considered as having mthout rivalry linked the phe- nomena of molecular motion to that of universal gravitation, and laid the foundation for a new theory which will embrace all physical phenomena. By long and varied experiments Mr. Joule deter- mined the mechanical equivalent of heat to be 772 foot-pounds, or, expressed according to the French standard, 425 kilogrammetres ; that is, he determined that the amount of heat which would raise the temperature of a pound of water one degree Fahrenheit would, if all applied mechanically, be sufficient to lift one pound weight 772 feet high, or 772 pounds one foot. And conversely, if a weight of one pound falls 772 feet, it ought to produce a quantity of heat sufficient to raise the temperature of one pound of water one degree. We have thus a means of determining the true work of machines and of chemical action.
Before addressing ourselves to the connection between the dy- namical theory of heat and chemical action, we must point out a
i
4G6 I'he Progress of Chemical Science,
distinction which exists between passive and active forces. When we wind up the weight of a clock, we store up force wliich would become active if the string were cut, so as to allow the weight to fall. In this case the whole of the stored-up force would be ex- hausted at once, and would be transformed into heat when the weight struck the ground. If we allow the weight to descend slowly by- means of its coiled string, it sets the clock in motion, and the weight on reaching the ground produces no heat. Now the force stored up in the weight before it begins to descend is usually called possible or potential energy or tension, while the energy which the weight has acquired in falling is called active, actual, or dynamical energy. According as the weight falls, the potential energy de- creases, but tlie active energy increases, the sum of the two being always constant.
When we heat water or any other body exposed to the air, two phenomena may be observ^ed, — the body grows bigger, that is, ex- pands, and the substance gets hotter, that is, the mercury in a thermometer applied to it will also expand, and it will produce the sensation of heat when the hand is brought into contact "with it. If we place the water under such a pressure as to prevent the expan- sion, we shall find that the quantity of heat which is required to produce the same elevation of temperature that was acquired in the open vessel will be less. Tlie difference between the two quan- tities was used in producing the expansion ; these two quantities are called the specific heat mider a constant pressm-e, and the specific heat at a constant volume, the former being always greater than the latter. The difference between the two specific heats affords us, therefore, a means of determining the relative amount of mechanical force required to keep the particles of a body at a certain distance apart. Before the water began to expand, the particles were held together by a certain force which had to l3e overcome before the particles began to separate. The portion of the heat lost in this operation is said to perform interior work, which, being a work used in overcoming resistance, is negative, that is, it is ab- sorbed ; while the expansion is called exterior work, and is also negative. The sum of the two constitutes dynamic energy ; while the portion of heat which produces the effect of temperatiu'e may be considered as potential energy.
The quantity of heat which produces the same amount of po- tential energy is the same for all the simple bodies, according to the law of Didong and Petit. Generally speakuig, when a law is established in a science it is expressed in a form which is at once simple and absolute ; bye and bye perturbations are detected in its action. The beautiful researches of M. Regnault have shown that these perturbations extend to xa ^^ the whole specific heat in the case of the simple bodies. The cause of these perturbations is
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obviously to be sought for in the action of the interior work, making due allowance for the errors arising from the difficulty of determining the specific heat of bodies under constant j^ressure.
The specific heats of atoms being assumed equal, it is evident that we can determine the atomic weights from the specific heats of equal quantities of the elements. The atomic weights thus ob- tained are not always identical with those adopted by chemists ; and to distingTiish those thus calculated they are called therr^ial equi- valents. Thus while the thermal equivalent of carbon is 12, or that now adopted as the atomic weight by chemists, that of oxygen is 8, sulphur 16, potassium 19 5, and sodium 11*5, that is, half the chemical equivalents. Some chemists use this as an argument against doubling the equivalents of oxygen ; but to be consistent they should also adopt the thermal equivalents of sodium and potassium. The chemical and thermal equivalents, although sometimes iden- tical, and always multiples or submultiples of each other, should not be confounded. The difference is undoubtedly connected with the chemical polyatomicity of bodies, and will help one day to reveal some important molecular law.
Just as we may explain the perturbations of the specific heats of atoms by differences in the relative amount of interior work required to change the position of the atoms in different substances, so we may in like manner explain the perturbations of the law of isomorphism by the unequal amounts of interior work performed in different parts of a system of molecules. As the sum of the interior work constituting the dynamic energy which is employed in expanding a crystal along its different axes of elasticity may be assumed to be in direct proportion to their lengths, except in ob- lique crystals, while the proportion used in interior and exterior work may be very different along each axis, it will follow that the rate of expansion along each axis will be different. It may happen that the whole of the dynamic energy may be used in interior work, along one axis, so that no expansion will take place in that direction. In crystals belonging to the oblique systems, the ratio of dynamic energy will not be in the ratio of the lengths of the axes ; and it may therefore even happen that such a crystal, as in the case of gypsum, may contract in one direction while it ex- pands in the others on the application of heat. As the rate of expansion is uniform along each axis, the law of symmetry is not affected by temperature, and consequently the law of multiple proportion is independent of temperature. The rate of expansion of crystals of isomorphic bodies not being equal, they would not equally expand along their corresponding axes when exposed to the same temperature ; that is, the ratio of the interior and exterior work would not be the same in each. M. Sainte Claire Deville thinks that it might be possible to find for each series of isomor-
voL. IV. i i
468 The Progress of Chemical Science.
phoTis substances a temperature at which the unequal expansions of two different crystals would compensate each other, and both would then have equal angles and be absolutely isomorphic. This is quite possible in a few cases, but it could not be generally true. In fact, the perturbations in the angles of isomorphous crystals are due to absolute differences in the arrangement of some constituent group of their molecides.
It is evident from the foregoing observations that the interior work of heat is that which is most connected mth chemical phe- nomena. Did our space permit, we might show its relation to latent heat, and many other phenomena ; but we must content our- selves with a few observations on the theory of gases and homo- logous groups, — the one because it shows how completely the new theory of heat has already solved many of the difficulties con- nected with that form of matter, and the other because it will show how much may be expected from the study of this class of bodies.
Let us suppose -a limited space to be occupied by a number of molecules separated from each other by such a distance as to be removed from the influence of their reciprocal actions. If these molecules be in motion, they will move with a uniform velocity in straight lines. As a consequence of this movement, each of the molecules in turn would strike against the other, or against the walls of the vessel, mi til a mean condition would be established in which we should assume the molecules to be continually moving in every possible direction. The molecules which approach or impinge against each other must necessarily alter each other's path, and ultimately strike against the vessel. In consequence, however, of the distance of the particles, the number of them which at any given moment are striking against each other or the walls, or moving in paths modified by their impinging against several mole- cules at the same time, is insignificant compared to the number of molecules whose motion is rectilineal ; or, what comes to the same thing, the duration of the epochs of perturbations are insensible compared with the epochs of uniform motion. Hence the action upon the vessel would not sensibly differ from what it would be if we were to suppose that all the molecules travelled continually in straight lines and in all imaginable directions mthout meeting each other. This fictitious system is accordingly substituted for the real in considering the properties of gases. The constant striking of the molecules against the sides of the vessel produces pressure, which it is easy to see must be equal in all directions ; and from what we have already said of the relation of force to velocity and distance travelled, it is evident that Mariotte's law is a simple consequence of this theory. The law of dilatation and of specific heat may also be deduced from it
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The superiority of this theory over that of La Place is nowhere better sliown than in the explanation which it affords of the per- turbations which affect the law of Mariotte in the case of the ma- jority of gases. Only hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen can be said to approach the condition of perfect gases according to the preceding theory; all other gases deviate more or less from it, especially under considerable pressures. To explain these deviations we have only to suppose the ratios of the epochs of perturbations, while still remaining small, to become sensible, in order to produce at once deviations fi'om the strict laws of pressure, dilatation, and specific heat. When the epochs of perturbation become considerable, — that is, when the moving molecules mutually interfere so as to cause them to unite into groups, constantly breaking up and forming anew, — part of the motion is arrested and transformed into heat, we have a liquid, and the heat evolved is the latent heat of vapour.
When we burn solids in gases the phenomena of heat and light are produced by the constant rain of gaseous molecules which strike the solid, and the motion of which, being arrested, is in part con- verted into heat, and in part into the molecular motion of the molecules of the compound ; — combination itself being only the shock of different molecular systems, by which part of the motion is arrested and converted into heat, and a new molecular system moving with a velocity equal to the difference between the sum of the velocities of the constituents, and the equivalent of the heat produced by combination. The nearer bodies approach in proper- ties, that is, the nearer in kind and direction the motions of two systems are, the less heat will be produced by their combination, because the motions of one system will not interfere much with those of the other. Such compounds are easily broken up, because only a smaU part of the original potential force of their constituents has been converted iiito heat, and lost. If part of the potential energy of the constituents of a body be lost by the act of combina- tion, the new system cannot be broken up, and the constituents again set free, without an equivalent quantity of motion to that lost as heat being suppUed. Hence we can understand why it is that the organs of animals and plants are made up of polyatomic alcohols which evolve very little heat in their combination, but keep it stored up for the final object of the production of heat and motion in animals ; we get this stored-up heat when we burn wood.
It foUows from the new theory of gases, that if in any vapour we substitute one of the atoms by a denser one, we increase the ex)0chs of perturbation, and may do so even to the extent of con- verting the body into the Hquid state. This explains why olefiant gas, when part of its hydrogen is displaced by chlorine, becomes hquid. In the homologous carbides of hydrogen we have the same result ; every successive addition of CHg increasing the density of the
470 The Progress of Chemical Science.
vapour and the magnitude of the perturbations in the gaseous state at the same temperature. When two bodies unite, each of which is capable of uniting with a third singly, heat is evolved. If tliis compound be then broken up by combining with the third sub- stance, the heat evolved ought to be less than would be evolved if the third body had combined with corresponding quantities of the constituents not united. The homologous carbides of hydro- gen, and apparently all their homologous derivatives, are exceptions to this rule. Thus the quantities of heat produced by the combus- tion of equal weights of CoH^ and CoqH^o do not differ, according to the experiments of Favre and Silbermann, by more than 8 per cent of the total quantity evolved by the first body, olefiant gas ; and yet the second body is a solid, and may be looked upon as a compomid of ten molecules of the first, compressed in the state of gas into the volume of one. Every one knows what a very great force would be required to compress a gas into y\- of its volume. It is consequently a measure of that which is engaged in keeping the ten molecules of C0H4 in the homologous form of CoqH^o- The phenomenon of allotropism of simple and compound bodies, that is, the existence of the same body in two or more condi- tions, diff'ering in physical properties, may perhaps be classed with that of homologous bodies. In the case of allotropic oxygen, or ozone, that remarkable substance which is formed, among other ways, by the passage of electricity through air, the specific gravity appears, from Dr. Andrews's experiments, to be sensibly four times that of oxygen, or four volumes of common oxygen con- densed into one.^ According to the rule which we have given above — that the specific gravities of the simple bodies are propor- tional to their equivalents — the specific gravity of the vapour of sulphur ought to be 2*2 compared to air. Dumas found by ex- periment that it was QQ, or, in other words, that one volume of the vapour of sulphur contains three times as many molecules as one of oxygen. M. Bineau found, however, that when the vapour was heated to about 1000° cent, or 1800° Fahr., it expanded into a gas which had one-third of its original specific gravity, that is, one in accordance with theory. The experiment has been repeated lately by M. Sainte Claire Deville and M. Troost, and they fix the temperature at 860° cent; the same thing occurs with the va- pours of selenium and tellurium. It is worthy of note in these cases that the specific gravity in the allotropic state is a multiple of that in the ordinary state. In all these cases the motion which would represent the heat of combination, and in the case of the liquid and solid carbides of hydrogen a part at least of the lat-ent heat of one or both states also, is employed in interior work. There is no more wonderful example of the adaptation of means to an end in the economy of nature than this retention of heat by the
The Progress of Chemical Science. 471
homologous bodies. All the organs of plants and animals consist of such compounds, which are condensed without loss of motion, while this very storing up makes their materials more ready to enter into new and stable compounds, and thus to set free the stored-up force as animal heat and motion.
As the vapour of a compound rises in temperature, the pertur- bations of its gaseous motions diminish ; the molecules ultimately split up into simpler ones, as the vibrations or revolutions, or whatever be the kind of motion of the atoms of each molecule, increase in velocity. Even the elements of water cannot remain in combination at a very high temperature ; and it is probable that there is no compound known to us which can exist at very intense temperatures, — certainly none of those which can be converted into vapour. If we could continue to raise the temperature, would the molecules of the simple bodies also split up into simpler systems ? and if so, where would be the limits of greatest simplicity? Are the simple bodies higher members of homologous series, which, like sulphur, decompose at successively higher temperatures into simpler and still simpler molecules? Would the simplest molecules be those composing the ether which is diffused through space, and whose molecules are so simple that they serve to convey the won- derful vibrations of light and heat? If not, what then is this ether, millions of cubic miles of which would scarcely weigh a pound? To consider it as a passive medium conveying the undulations of light and heat, without being affected, like all other matter, by them, is wholly inconsistent with all known physical laws. The extent of the action of light and heat upon it during any given time may be safely neglected in mathematical, but not in physical, investigations. If the solar and stellar systems be but segregations or condensations of ether, and consequently the simple bodies but certain groups or systems of molecules on the type of homologous compound radicals, the force which has been absorbed in their interior work must be enormous ; for most of our metals exist in the solar atmosphere, as has been established by spectrum analysis.
When light is admitted to a darkened chamber by a long narrow slit, so as to pass through a triangular bar or prism of solid glass, or a hollow one filled with certain transparent liquids, the waves of different length and velocity which, by their simul- taneous action on the eye, produce the impression of white light, not bemg equally refracted in passing from the air to the glass on one side, and from the glass to the air on the other, are separated, so that instead of a long bar of white light we see a stripe composed of different coloured bands. This is what is known by the very inappropriate name of the solar spectrum. In the year 1814 Frauenhofer, a celebrated optician of Munich, following out an observation of Dr. WoUaston, found that the spectrum was crossed
472 The Progress of Chemical Science.
by a number of black bars or lines, not only towards the ends where it faded into obscurity, but in the brightest part towards the middle, which were invariable in position, so that he was able to tabulate them by distinguishing each by a letter of the alphabet according to its position. By the use of more powerful instru- ments Sir David Brewster added to the number ; but Prof Kirchoff now, by still better instruments, finds that there are thousands of these lines. Sir David Brewster also found that other black lines made their appearance when the spectrum was examined as the sun approached the horizon. These new lines were supposed to be due to atmospheric absorption by the vapours near the horizon, while the permanent lines of Frauenhofer were considered to be due to causes beyond our atmosphere.
The spectrum s produced by other sources of light were next examined, and even those of the stars. It was soon found that when light passed through certain gases and vapour, as, for ex- ample, peroxide of nitrogen, the lines were increased ; while when certain substances were in a state of ignition in a flame, coloured lines of gTcater brightness were observed. Indeed, Frauenhofer himself had noticed that the flame of a wax-candle gave such bright lines. Led, no doubt, by these observations, different physicists, as Sir David Brewster, Swan, and others, examined the spectrums of the flame of alcohol holding salts in solution, and found bright lines in difierent parts of the spectrum. Swan even noticed the presence of a bright yellow line when a little common salt is added to the spirit of wine. Such was the state of the subject when it was taken up by Professor Bunsen and Professor Kirchoft*. They systematically investigated the action of substances in pro- ducing bright lines, and found that it depended on the metal. Finding, when they examined the saline substances left on evapo- rating certain mineral waters, and also certain minerals, some lines which were new to them, they concluded that the bodies examined contained new metals. These they succeeded in isolating, and gave to them the names of caesium and rubidium. Afterwards Mr. Crooks, by the same means, discovered a third metal, the compounds of which have been studied by M. Lamy, and to which the name thallium has been given.
Each metal is not distinguished by a single line, though, as in the case of sodium, one is so brilliant, and the other so unimport- ant and requiring such good instruments, that we speak only of the yellow sodium line. Potassum produces three recognisable lines, one in the red, another in the violet, and a third much fainter intermediate line. Lithium produces two lines, a pale yeUow and a bright red. The metals belonging to the group of alkaline earths give much more complicated spectrums than the alkaline metals : strontium, for instance, gives eight lines, — six red, one orange, and
The Progress of Chemical Science, 473
one blue ; calcium gives three, but only in intense flames, — green, red, and blue ; while iron gives no less than sixty. The quantities of those bodies which produce the lines for such a length of time as to be caught by the eye is so small as to give us a faint image of the molecules of the cosmic ether. It is calculated that the ynoouijotb part of a miligramme of sodium can be detected by this means.
In 1847 M. A. Matthiesen proposed to account for the black lines of the solar spectrum by the absorption of the light in the solar atmosphere ; an explanation which was received favourably by Sir David Brewster and Dr. Gladstone, who, before the dis- coveries of Bunsen and Kirchoff, had used the prism to determine the absorptive powers of different solutions, and had obtained some very important results. Professor Stokes, in his curious experi- ments on fluorescence, a name given to the phenomena presented by certain liquids and solids of radiating as light a part of the heat which they absorb, suggests, if indeed he has not somewhere given, a similar explanation. In the year 1849 M. Toucaidt, while observing the spectrum of the flame of the voltaic arch, observed a yellow line due to some compound of sodimn volatilised by the flame, part, no doubt, of the ash of the charcoal-points ; but when the sun's rays were allowed to traverse the voltaic arch, this yellow line became black. Professor Kirchoff appears not to have known of this remarkable experiment when, in 1859, he discovered that the bright line produced by a sodium flame occupies the exact place in the solar spectrum of one of the lines of Prauenhofer, and that most of all the other bright lines produced by difi'erent metals correspond to some of the dark lines of the spectrum. The expla- nation of the phenomenon is given by Poucault's experiment : A gas or vapour absorbs the particular rays which it emits itself. Professor Kirchofl" made the splendid generalisation that the light of the sun comes from the solid mass which contains the metals whose lines have been found to correspond to the dark lines of Prauenhofer; these substances are also in vapour in the solar atmosphere, and consequently the rays in passing through that atmosphere have those emitted by the metals extinguished. If we could examine the spectrum of the light of the solar atmosphere itself, without the intervention of those from the solid nucleus, the dark lines would appear bright.
ThLs law of absorption applies also to heat ; that is, vapours absorb those heat-rays which they can best radiate, as has been shown by De la Prevostaye, Stewart, and Kirchoff", and confirmed by a beautiful series of experiments by Professor Tyndall. It ap- pears from these experiments, as we might indeed expect, that as the density of the vapour increases the absorption increases also ; but we cannot know from them whether the absorption follows any
474 The Progress of Chemical Science,
regular law in the homologous series. We would suggest to Pro- fessor Tyndall to make the delicate experiment of testing the va- pours of a few of the homologous carbides of hydrogen, which have a low boiling-point, and consequently give off vapour at common temperatures by successive portions of the solar thermal spectrum, in order to see whether those bodies offer thermal lines of absorp- tion analogous to the metallic lines of the spectrum.
The presence of metals in the solar atmosphere, and in the in- candescent mass of the sun itself, shows that, even when subjected to the enormous temperature which must prevail near the sun's sur- face, the molecular groups of the metals do not appear to separate into simpler ones. But this does not prove that at still higher temperatures, such as must have once prevailed in our system, those metals did not exist in simpler forms. Some idea may be formed of the enormous force which once existed in our system, if the whole of the solar system was once nebulous, and consequently of the temperature which it was possible might have existed, by the calculation of Professor Helmholtz, according to which the poten- tial energy of our system was 454 times greater than it is now, so that the J|-|- of it have been lost, as he thinks, by radiation into space as heat. Yet what remains of that primitive energy if all converted into heat would be sufficient to raise a mass of water equal in weight to the sun and planets, — twenty-eight millions of degrees centigrade, a temperature of which the mind cannot form the slightest conception. If our hypothesis of the absorption of energy in interior work in the formation of homologous series or condensed atoms be correct, the whole of this force would not have been radiated off ; but just as, when we heat a body, a part of the heat performs interior and exterior work, while the rest produces temperature and may radiate away, so, in the formation of metallic groups, part of the heat was used in interior work. This interior work may be unstable, as in the case of that by which solids are converted into liquids; or it may be permanent, as we have sup- posed to be the case in the homologous series of carbides of hydro- gen. Our view, then, is, that the simple bodies represent stable molecular groups which still conserve part of the initial energy of our system, which we have not now force enough to transfonn, as we can do in the case of the compounds of carbides of hydro- gen. The very lines of the spectrum which reveal to us the con- stitution of the sun also show us that the metals are complex groups of molecules ; for how could a simple molecule extinguish sixty different rays ? Nay, more : for as we improve our spectrum and increase its brilliancy, the number of lines which represent each metal increases. This has been well shown by the experiments of Professor Miller on the spectrum of Thallium at different tem- peratures. It is only very complex groups of molecules that could
The Progress of Chemical Science. 475
intercept so many waves of different velocities in making tlieir way between the ultimate particles as do the metals.
Geology points to the successive stages by which in lapse of ages the earth assumed its present form ; astronomy points back to a period far more distant, when " the earth was without form," be- fore the molecular motion of nebulous atoms had been converted into the motion of whirling globes. Does chemistry now point back to a period still more remote in the womb of time, to the birth of simple bodies ? Shall we be ever able to determine their relative ages, and apply that knowledge to ascertain the relative age of the various stellar worlds, or of those green and red suns which apparently are formed of very few bodies ? Our readers will say that we have pushed the speculation far enough. Whether that speculation be of any worth or not, it will sufficiently indicate the part which chemistry will play in the development of a great dynamical theory of the miiverse.
[ 476 ]
THACKERAY.
There are some -writers at whom we wonder as thinking-ma- chines ; others whom we seek to know as persons through their works; and others, again, whom we like to read about, though we neglect their writings. We choose to make the acquaint- ance of Johnson through Boswell, rather than in Rasselas and the Rambler. We read Milton without much caring to know what manner of man he was. But we are for ever trying to put together every hint that Shakespeare gives us, in order that we may come to know something of himself. Yet Shakespeare was a poet the effect of whose creations does not depend on his own personal presence. His sublime thoughts are separated from his mind, and stand by themselves as solidly as trees or mountains. His humour derives none of its zest from any relation to his personal oddities. Yet such surpassing gifts, such loveable qua- lities, shine in his works, that we yearn to know him.
In this same class, at however great a distance, we place Thackeray. A knowledge of the man is not necessary for under- standing his works. But his works disclose to us such a sym- pathetic nature, that we like to know him ; while he babbles to us so artlessly of himself, that we cannot help making his acquaint- ance. Hence it is that of all recent writers he excites the great- est personal sympathy. In Macaulay we see only the orator and the partisan. We admire his memory, his enthusiasm, his genius ; and we think little more about him. In Mr. Carlyle, one of the most thoroughly individual of our writers, who seeks to commune with a friend's heart ? We weigh his reasons, we admire his talent, we are carried away by his eloquence, we bow to his heroes or we contemn them, we are amused or bored with his sputtering ; but we forget the author in his works. In Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, egotistical as he is, frantic as are his efforts to make us believe that he tells us all that is in his soul, and much as he desires to establish himself as our director and instructor, we see only the man of imagination, whose thoughts are no parts of himself, in whom we cannot separate affectation from reality, fancies from facts. In Mr. Dickens we do not see a man who even pretends to offer us his heart to read, or who identifies his characters with himself, as Sir Edward Bulwer Lyt- ton does. We delight in his stories, but we care nothing for him, except as a productive national property. But in Thackeray we see a man who cannot help telling us of himself, and who disdains to give us a false picture ; who draws from his own image in a mirror ; who does not know how to separate himself from his own
Thackeray. 4t(t
creations, or to leave them to stand alone. He nourishes them with blood warm from his own veins, and makes their hearts keep time with his. His own character is ever the background of the pageant he displays to us. His puppets pass before us as if in their creator's day-dream, instead of on a solid stage — as if we saw their images within the magic-lantern, instead of on the whitened wall.
This openness and transparency of soul is Thackeray's great characteristic. It accounts for many of his peculiarities as critic, historian, artist, and thinker. It explains the characters he creates, and the circumstances in which he exhibits them. It throws light on his special humour, and on his judgments and theories. It goes far to explain his intellectual tastes, his cri- tical preferences, and the artistic forms he adopted. It tells us the reason of many of his weaknesses. It is, in fact, the key- note both of the man and of his works. Let us see how this happens.
There is a point where Thackeray's ideas of criticism, his- tory, art, and philosophy unite and become identical. For their ultimate aim is but one — to discover and display the soul. In his view, criticism discovers the soul that lurks within books and pictures; history discovers the soul that actuated the men who lived in past ages ; art displays soul through the creations of the poetical imagination ; philosophy teaches how to display our own living soul in our words and deeds. His critical essays, his historical chapters, his novels, his exhortations and specula- tions, are at bottom one and the same thing. His critical essays are historical sketches of authors ; his historical essays are cri- tical summaries of memoirs and letters, illustrated from pictures, buildings, streets, old almanacks, and newspapers; his novels are fictitious memoirs ; and his philosophy is merely a series of examples and fables. Such are their similarities; let us now turn to their differences.
His criticism tries to find the man in his works — to teach people to see the soul gleaming from the eyes of the portrait, the character and mind of the artist radiating from the forms he drew or the lines he penned. The critic, as Thackeray con- ceived him, must sympathise with the man he criticises, and must comprehend him. The first sign requisite to prove the critic's mission is his ability to imitate and parody what he cri- ticises. To judge, you must know; if you know, you can do, — for knowledge is power; it is as easy to create as to define. If you show that you can do what Rubens or Swift did, then you prove that you understand their secret, whether you can explain it or not. If you pretend to explain it, you may easily prove your sum by putting together again what you have taken to
478 Thackeray,
pieces so cleverly. This is implied in a criticism on Rubens in one of the Roundabout Papers, where Thackeray laughs at the brawny, burly creations of the " gross, shaggy, mangy, roaring" Leo Belgicus, and exposes the easy, almost puerile, contrivances by which he attained his big eflfects. But then he blows his criticism to the winds by the reflection that, if Rubens's art were so vulgar and so easy, some one before now would have been able to imitate it ; but it is inimitable — he has made his mark on all time ; '' we wonder at his strength and splendour of will. He is a mighty, conquering, generous, rampagious lion."
If a complete technical criticism of Rubens ought to amount to a receipt for producing pictures as good as his, a complete literary criticism of the master would imply the power of pro- ducing by word-pictures the same feelings and ideas as are excited by his canvases. This was Thackeray's ideal of art- cri- ticism. Though he could well describe a picture in the technical language of artists, he preferred talking about it in a way cal- culated to raise the same emotions through the ear that the picture excited through the eye ; and his usual style of criticism was either this, or else a dry catalogue of those emotions. One picture, he says, raises ^' a certain pleasing, dreaming feeling of awe and musing;" another, *'the most delightful briskness and cheerfulness of spirit." Thus he tries to find under the paint the character of the artist, and the motives w^hich inspired him.
In like manner, his criticism of books tries to find the man in his writings. In his Lectures on the Humourists he sits in judg- ment on the men and their lives, not on their works. And when he does criticise their writings, he does it rather by imitations and parodies than by analysis. In his Novels by Eminent Hands, in his imitations of the Spectator-paper in Esmond, and of Horace Walpole's style in The Virginians, in his matchless feats of taking-off French people, like the Prince de Moncontour and his mother, and Germans, like the Licentiate in Barry Lyndon, we see his ideal of criticism. He proves that he has seized the literary soul, by exhibiting his capacity to re'embody it, though perhaps his analytical powers were not active enough to enable him to explain to others wherein that literary individuality con- sisted. By some magic process, which he did not understand, his mind passed from the writing to the author ; and while he was reading Swift's judgments of others, he was unconsciously form- ing his own image of Swift's soul.
His essays in history are precisely the same in plan, only, in- stead of artists and humourists, he calls up historical personages before us. He leaves the beaten tracks of history, disregards the intrigues of courts and the acts of statesmen, in order to find the man. Deeds, says Heine, are but the soul's vestments ; old an-
lliackeray, 479
nals are mankind's old wardrobe ; history but a classified cata- logue of old clothes. Thackeray would make it more ; he would wave his wand, summon the ghosts from Hades, and bid them case themselves in their old mantles, and strut for a moment be- fore us, to show what manner of men they were. He would have the INIuse of History put off all ceremony and forswear courts, make herself familiar rather than heroic, and strive, with Hogarth and Fielding, to give us an idea of the manners of the age, rather than register its deeds with the gazettes and newspapers.
In his historical essays he is more liberal in his judgments on the spirits he raises than in his critical lectures. In these his judgment is guided by considerations exclusively moral : were the men he writes of tender-hearted ? did they love and honour wo- men and children? But as a historian he can make allowances for characters who did not fulfil these conditions, if they showed themselves men in the great struggles of the world. In spite of Sir Robert Walpole's loose life, he honours him for his bold and successful defence of liberty. He admires the iron narrowness of George III., in spite of the calamities it caused. The one per- sonage whom he cannot forgive is George IV., for the sufficient reason that he cannot find out whether he was a person at all, or merely a bundle of clothes. Strip ofi" his coat, wig, teeth, waist- coat, and successive under-waistcoats, he says, and you find nothing. He must have had an individuality, but one cannot get at any thing actual, and never will be able. In a word, he was a " Fribble,^^ a nobody.
Thackeray avoided the consequence into which a similar feel- ing has pushed Mr. Carlyle, and never accepted the Hegelian con- clusion that success justifies the cause and authenticates the hero, that might proves right, and that what is is because it ought to be. He rightly distinguished between domestic and political morality, and forgave politicians, as such, their domestic vices only on condition of their serving political right. But his notions of political right are somewhat hazy, from a cause which we shall have to point out farther on. It was only by a strong effort that he could see such a right at all ; and then he could not distinguish it from social right. His usual mood was, with Fielding, to define patriots to be place-hunters, and politics to be the art of getting places ; to think parties an artificial contrivance to prolong the jobbery of a superannuated oligarchy; to consider one man as good as another, and having an equal right, not only to self-government, but to govern others. Order and prosperity he considered to depend not on the organisation of the state, but on the feelings and sentiments of the people ; and these he gi'ounded, not on the wise doing or wiser forbearing of statesmen, not on the influence of clergymen or demagogues or journalists,
4eO Thackeray,
but on that of some literary humourist, some week-day preacher, some Johnson — " the great supporter of the constitution, whose immense authority reconciled the nation to loyalty, and shamed it out of irreligion." Such a conception debarred him from the knowledge of the political scale of virtues. He could see that in private life defects of justice were often only feminine weaknesses, compensated by an excess of kindness or tenderness, while at- tempts to do rigid justice often had a stern cold character de- structive of the domestic charities. But he could not see so clearly that on the stage of the world the real proportion between these virtues becomes manifest ; that private weaknesses are am- plified into public crimes, as well as private crimes softened into defects on which men are not called to judge, by the mere ampli- tude of the stage where the man acts his part. In-doors, feminine weakness or narrowness may be inoffensive, or comic, or pathetic ; put it upon the throne, and it may work worse woe than the blackest crime. Shakespeare understood this when he showed how an amiable innocent like Henry VI., or a nature's gentleman like Richard II., might be the curse of his country, or when he exhibited the statesmanlike excellence of the heartless politician Henry IV. Thackeray had no clear view of it when he founded his apology for King George III. on the rigid virtues of the man. To pass to his artistic creations : there is absolutely no differ- ence in principle between his tales and his critical and historical lectures ; they are all galleries of portraits, though the characters he creates are painted at full length and in great detail, while those whom he recalls into life are merely sketched-in. His Muse of Fable disdains plots of intrigue as contemptuously as his Muse of History despises the intrigues of courts. It might be suspected that he never could make a plot, unless in Esmond he had proved his ability. But he never did it again ; all his other novels are slices out of the living body of the time, with the arteries tied up, and with other signs of good surgery at the be- ginning, but ending raggedly, and without any artistic reason, except that they had gone on long enough for the carver to have served all his company. A plot with him is generally a mere thread, unravelling into just so many adventures and episodes as are sufficient to develope the characters. And these characters he makes as life-like as possible ; many of them are as real as those he describes in his lectures, but with fictitious names. Almost any portrait can be remo^'ed from one division to another. Johnson, left out from the humourists, comes in among the statesmen in The Four Georges, and among the characters in The Virginians. The Marquis of Steyne is introduced in the lectures as a courtier of George IV. Thackeray's most serious attempt at historical portraiture —the picture of ^Marlborough —
ThacJceraij. 481
finds its place in Esmond, where we also find descriptions ot !MarlborougVs battles, which would probably have done duty in his contemplated history of Queen Anne^s reign. Bamj Lyndon contains criticisms of the system of Frederick the Great, which it is amusing to compare with the premature certificates of character given in Esmond to Mr. Carlyle's history. Perhaps the most innocent example of his rage for turning his novels into portrait- galleries occurs in The Virginians, where he " somehow^ manages to bring his hero in contact with the greatest lords and most noto- rious personages of the empire, and thus introduces his readers to the great characters of a remarkable time.'^ Sometimes this is done only as an exercise of his peculiar imitative criticism, like the new ana and talk which he mints with the effigies of Steele and Addison, Bolingbroke, Johnson, and Kichardson. Sometimes it is done with an intention almost Dantesque, as when he makes General Lambert point out to George Warrington at the levee the principal courtiers, and give each his due place in the hell, purgatory, or paradise of modern opinion. But nothing can be less Dantesque than the motives of his judgment. We have not here, as we have in The Four Georges, the faintest echo of that haughty patriotism by which the stern Florentine tries all men_, and distributes their doom according to the way they abide this test. In his novels Thackeray drops the political touchstone which he employed to some extent in his historical lectures, and adopts one altogether domestic and social, which we may call his snob-test — a test which, in his way of using it, is applicable to many other qualities besides those usually considered to make up the snob, and embraces in its domain almost all moral faults, arranged, however, on a new scale of gravity and veniality. With this touchstone in his hand he wanders through the gallery, and tickets the original of each portrait with his doom. Was he gentle and loving, but tipsy ? His love saves him ; he only passes through a brief purgatory into bliss. Was he a brutal Imsband? To Tartarus with him! Did he hate children? Pluto, shove him down farther ! It is too whimsical. He leaves on one side the springs of history, the motives and forces which we can weigh and appreciate, and busies himself with his little crooked inch-measure to mete out his due to each, and to anticipate a verdict upon men's morals which none but the All- seeing can give. Thus, in his endeavours to escape the narrow- ness of Dante, he lets his waters floAV over the plain and become a shallow pool. In his laudable endeavour to decant into the novel all the religion it will hold, he becomes over-serious in his fable and namby-pamby in his religion. He seems to consider our opinions of dead people to be their limbo ; just as he makes tlieir historical reality consist in the vividness of our ideas con- cerning them.
482 Thackeray.
But he had a passion for moralising, to which even his dar- ling exhibition of character was sometimes sacrificed. He often takes the mask from his face and holds it in his hand, forgets his assumed character and speaks in his own person, criticising his inventions and remarking on his performance as it proceeds. This peculiarity, which many persons have taken as a proof of want of objective power to project his characters outside his own mind, and to treat them as real entities, acting by the necessary sequences of natural laws, and not merely as puppets answering the strings which the showman chooses to pull, he would himself have appealed to as the great proof that they were for him liv- ing persons. To readers they have the life-like characteristics of being very commonly misunderstood, and of being understood by diflferent persons in different ways. To their creator, his own creations often presented the same problems as real per- sons might. He used to say, in reference to Rawdon Crawley^s quarrel with Lord Steyne, that he could never make up his mind whether Becky was guilty or no. He would point out the very house in E-ussell Square w^here the Sedleys lived. When remonstrated with for making Esmond marry his mother- in-law, he said, " I did not make them do it ; they did it them- selves." In one of his Roundabout Papers he tells of the amaze- ment he felt at the remarks made by some of his characters : '^ It seems as if an occult power was moving the pen. The per- sonage does or says something, and I ask how the dickens did he come to think of that ?" " I never know whether you are laughing at me or yourself, George," says one of the Virginian brothers ; " I never know whether you are serious or jesting." *' Precisely my own case, Harry my dear," replies the other. It was Thackeray's case. The real artist has an intuition of what his characters must do or say ; the theorist determines what he will make them say or do. One discovers ; the other invents. One comes, as it were, by luck on his treasures ; the other makes them, and can tell us all about them.
And the reality which he attributes to his own inventions he gives to those of other novelists. The creations of Fielding he considers to be much more facts, to have much more have-been- hood about them, than the forgotten celebrities mentioned in the gazettes of the day. Tom Jones and Amelia are to him much more real persons than those who are named in Smol- lett's chapter on arts and letters in the reign of George II. Parson Adams and Primrose were as authentic in his eyes as Sachevcrell and Warburton, and Gil Bias more real and more moral than the Duke of Lerma. Like the characters they cre- ate, the histories of novelists are the only ones that cannot be controverted. Never was such a Cartesian ! Never was such im-
I
Thackeray. 483
plicit reliance giveu to the principle^ " que les choses que nous concevons fort clairement et fort distinctement sont toutes vraies."
And this, indeed, is the whole of his moral philosophy : — The soul that dares to exhibit itself in full clearness and distinctness is a true soul. It is as certain to be loved as seen, when it shines forth in naked simplicity, nor leaves a thought within. The mouth should be no vizor to the heart ; what the breast forges the tongue should vent. If men would but let their souls be seen as God Almighty made them, " stripped of their wicked deceiving bodies, stark naked as they were before they were born," then all would be well. His philosophy carries us back beyond Rousseau's state of nature, beyond the nude animalism of the Preadamites, almost into the ideal times when first matter had not yet put on a rag of form. Souls without bodies, bodies without clothes, society without social organisation, — such are his ideals. He is a stark Origenist; if he had lived in the third century he would have believed the father of lies to be the crea- tor of all things visible. For, he tells us, it is falsehood that begets concealment, while concealment begets humbug, disguise, formalism, and ceremony, whence the conventional framework of society draws its origin.
This theory has taken shape in his snob-philosophy, on which he brooded from his undergraduate days in 1829, till he gave it shape in the Snob Papers in Punch. The Snob Papers began with just descriptions of the snob — eating peas with a knife, not conforming to the innocent social code, admiring mean things meanly ; but soon the idea was extended and in- flated, till snobbishness became an all-pervading gas, a universal element in man's composition, a common fibre which runs through us all, and which vibrates in us whenever we are con- ceited or quackish, or pompous or uncharitable, or proud or narrow — lowly to dukes or supercilious to shopkeepers. Still further, it was found to be a quality inseparable from the me- chanism of society, and incarnate in the diabolical invention of gentility, which kills honest friendship ; in the organisation of ranks and degrees of precedence, which rumples equality ; in court-circulars; in haut ton; in the wicked words, "fashionable, exclusive, aristocratic ;" in a court-system " that sends men of genius to the second table ;" in gradations and ranks that en- courage men to despise their neighbours, and, on their promo- tion, to forget an old friend, — to be ashamed of their poverty or their relations or their calling, — to boast of their pedigree, or to be proud of their wealth.
We must excuse Thackeray for setting up a hierarchy of genius instead of one of wealth and birth, for abolishing the
VOL. IV. k k
484 Tliackeray,
Red Book to make way for a St. Simonian- Directory of Capa- cities, because it is a mere oversight into which he was betrayed by his facile receptivity of his companions' opinions. He never meant to depose Croesus from the throne in order to crown Shandon or Pendennis or Ridley, or to substitute Mrs. Leo Hunter's matinees for Mrs. Tufthunt's drums. He considered that all differences of rank, however determined, were snobbish, because the distinguishing quality, whether wealth or birth or ge- nius, would always be matter for conceit and pretension. Equal- ity, he saw, was the only remedy; and if equality was contrary to nature, then nature, he thought, was predestined to be snobbish.
Thus the ideal snob became the devil of the week-day preacher — something very mean, but at the same time very great and ubiquitous. It was an inward tempter ; because the constitution of man is such that the soul can only exhibit itself in its clothing of outward acts, which acts are only imperfectly significant of the inner truth which they symbolise, and there- fore naturally deceptive and hypocritical. It was also an out- ward tempter ; because the constitution of society is such as to afford every facility for pretence, and to set a high premium on hypocrisy and affectation. The fundamental temptation of man was to humbug himself and his fellows, and to become a snob. This way of treating the subject is quite in accordance with Thackeray's peculiar humour. He sets up vulgarity and snob- bishness as coexistent with the visible universe, and then pro- ceeds to protest against it. He finds, as it were, the solar system to be an ill-designed machine, which he could greatly improve ; and, with Hamlet, he sees in the majestic firmament but a pes- tilent congregation of vapours, and in man only the quintessence of dust.
This snob-philosophy, in putting the chief stress on trans- parency and simplicity of soul, lays itself open to three capital charges.
First, it excludes justice from its code. For, when it reduces all crime to selfish hypocrisy, it has no serious condemnation for the rogue that is not a snob. It pleads for kindness, affection, self-sacrifice, humility, and all the more feminine virtues, but not for justice. Justice is too much occupied in adjusting the con- ventional framework of society, orders, degrees, ranks, all of which have the original taint of snobbishness deeply ingrained in them. It does not belong to that emotional energy which we call the soul. It resides in the reason, and may be expressed in an arithmetical sum. Not so the real virtues. Again, in- justice may come from a simple defect of soul, incapable of cal- culating proportion. It may come also from an excess of love. All women are more or less unjust; the most feminine the most
Thackeray, 485
unjust. Remember Rachel Esmond and the Little Sister. Behold Henry Esmond, that accomplished hero, turning traitor in favour of a cause he despises, merely because he thinks it will please his mistress. Think of the leniency with which the knavery of affectionate rascals like Lord Castlewood or Rawdon Crawley is treated, or of the good-humoured dissection of such innate rogues as Barry Lyndon or Bob Stubbs, the hero of The Fatal Boots. If a man has a bend sinister in his soul, he must be a rogue if he is not a hypocrite; and his roguery ought to be indulgently excused, like the depredations of a fox, or the cruelty of a cat, as something natural, innate, predestined. Such seems to be the theory, as it certainly is the practice, of Thackeray's snob-philosophy. This made his notions of political right so hazy. For justice is the political virtue, the social guide, the final solver of all the diffi- cult casuistiy of the more ethical virtues. No one can be a poli- tician unless he can at least understand the supremacy of justice over affection.
Secondly, it vilifies the reason. It does this partly because it exaggerates the value of the emotions ; partly because it does not see the exact place to give to reason. Reason, Hke justice, seems something outside the souls, an external rind of but tem- porary utility, a protection to the soul, and a medium of its communication with other souls. But its abuse is only too easy; its function being to weave the garment of words and acts by which a soul manifests itself to its fellows, it is the instrument of aU the untruth, all the pretence, the hypocrisy, the meanness, the snobbishness in the world. " L'homme qui raisonne est un animal deprave," says Rousseau in perfect seriousness ; and Thackeray half agrees with him. The transparency of character he seeks is usually clearest when reason is weakest. When reason sets to work, its first effort is to raise a fog round the soul, to make opaque what before was clear, and to weave a garment round the nakedness of which it has learned to be ashamed. Reason is the great enemy of simplicity ; the two must be kept apart, or they will corrupt each other. He divorces morality and genius, like certain historians, such as Thiers and Ranke, for con- trary reasons. Their highest place is given to cleverness ; and they love to show how great genius without goodness may be. Their chief heroes are men without moral virtue, such as Riche- lieu, Frederick, or Napoleon ; while their good men are either commonplace or dupes. On the other hand, Thackeray's heroes are dupes, and his men of genius more or less villains. General Wolfe is almost the only great man whom he treats with entire sympathy; but, while magnifying his goodness, he detracts from lis greatness, by attributing his crowning success at Quebec to pure chance.
486 Thackeray.
Thirdly, it discourages all attempts at moral progress. Its aim is to exhibit the soul as it is, not as it is not. The desire of being better than you are tempts you to seem better than you are. The A^ery acts and habits by which you strive to improve announce your improvement to the world before it has become ingrained in your soul; the man, therefore, who seeks to improve himself must be in some measure a sham and a humbug. But, more than this, real improvement is impossible. A man may throw off his evil habits, and become once more nearly as good as he was before he began to reason ; but he cannot improve on this. As nature made a soul, so it must remain. Self-improvement is impossible. You read in saints' lives how one cured his bad temper, and another strove till his chief defect became his prin- cipal virtue. Moonshine ! Thackeray can believe that a man can learn a language or master a science, but not that by taking thought he can add to his moral stature. All is vanity, look you; and so the preacher is vanity, too.^ You may as well show your- self as nature made you, because you cannot be different. Are you a thief, the son of thieves? You cannot choose but thieve. We will pity you, and make your prison comfortable. We are all of us poor asses, driven by fate from the abyss behind us to the abyss before us; it is a toss-up whether we are ridden by the devil, or by our good angel, or by the ghostly snob. If we are good, let us keep so. If we have made ourselves bad, let us undo our handiwork. If we have a defective nature, God help us ; let us at least be dogs, or pigs, or foxes, if we cannot be men. Whatever we are, let it be our study to be, not to seem.
Another consequence of this philosophy, the highest aim of which is to discover the soul under its clothing, and to exhibit it as it is, is a certain womanishness in those whom it actuates. Shakespeare says that transparency of character is that which mainly distinguishes women from men :
'* Their smoothness, like a goodly champaign plain,
Lays open all the little worms that creep :
In men, as in a rough -grown grove, remain
Cave-keeping evils, that obscurely sleep.
Through crystal walls each little note will peep.
Though men can cover crimes with bold, stern looks, Poor women's faces are their own faults' books."
It is congruous that one whose feelings cause him to found his philosophy on simplicity and openness should understand the character of women better than that of men. And all Thackeray's most subtle portraits are those of women. He goes to the bottom of their characters, especially of those who move in the great world. Beatrix, Rachel Esmond, Becky Sharpe, and Ethel New-
' Philiy, i. 29G.
Thackeray, 487
come are pictures "which will ever remain fresh. And, seeing that simplicity is a feminine .characteristic, this philosophy re- quires that we should judge more harshly of women who hide themselves in a mist of pretension, or involve themselves in the labyrinths of intellectual mazes, than of men who do so. " Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.^' A woman who is affected and untrue to herself is a more degraded being than a hypocritical man, because she sins more deeply against her nature. This accounts for the apparent spite which Thackeray always exhibited towards clever women. It was not that he really hated cleverness and loved stupidity. On the contrary, dulness was his abhorrence. " There is a quality,^' he said, " im- pervious to all advice, exposure, or correction ; that bows to no authority, recognises no betters, never can see that it is in the wrong, has no scruples of conscience, no misgivings of its own rectitude or powers, no qualms for the feelings of others, no respect but for itself The great characteristic of dulness is to be inalterably contented with itself; it makes men and women selfish, stingy, ignorant, passionate, and brutal.^' "Above all things,^^ he says elsewhere, " try to get a cheerful wife ; cheer- fulness implies a contented spirit, a pure heart, a kind and loving disposition, humility, and charity; a generous appreciation of others, and a modest opinion of self. Stupid people — people who do not know how to laugh — are always pompous and self-con- ceited; that is, bigoted; that is, cruel; that is, ungentle, un- charitable, unchristian.^^' It is m"uch more likely, then, that his weak, affectionate creatures, his tender, generous incapables, such as Amelia Sedley and Helen Pendennis, were mistakes in art than mistakes in philosophy. The intellect of woman is not like that of man : it does not spend itself in brandishing syl- logisms, or in wire-drawing ideas. It is not distinguished for epigrammatic acuteness or proverbial sententiousness. It is rather an intuition of feeling, and expresses itself more in sym- pathy that may be felt, than in words which may be written down. Now it is a great problem of art how to represent this character. As the sculptor has to represent warm, quivering flesh in his cold, still marble ; the painter the brilliant sunshine with colours, the brightest of which is blacker than all blackness when contrasted with the sun's glory ; the musician the wails, the jubilees, the tender sighs that course through his imagina- tion with his octave of notes ; — so the poet has to represent the wordless cheerfulness and unspoken wit of women with the mate- rials of his art, which are words. How shall he do this ? One poet adopts one mode of adaptation; another, another; the same poet varies his method in different periods of his life. We have
- Miscell. ii. 274, iv. 87.
488 Thackeray.
seen that Shakespeare recognised transparency of soul as a fun- damental trait of women ; yet how differently did he represent them in the different periods of his art ! At first this transparency showed itself in an inexhaustible flow of the brightest wit, not seldom somewhat too highly seasoned, as in Beatrice, Rosalind, and even Juliet. Gradually he worked away from this mode of representation, and adopted the method which has given ns his Desdemona, Miranda, and Imogen. Yet, after all, the literary ideal of woman does not quite correspond to the living ideal ;. all that we can ask is, that it should approach as near as the materials will allow. The true womanly charm is as inde- scribable as a sweet odour. " Qui pingit florem non pingit floris odorem." The best flower-painter is he who can associate most of the sentiment of perfume with the best imitatious of forms and colours.
Thackeray began with a mistake in criticism; he thought that a set had always been made against clever women. " Take aU Shakespeare^s heroines — they all seem to me pretty much the same, — affectionate, motherly, tender, that sort of thing.^^ He looked at Shakespeare's last creations without examining how he came to form them. Hence he failed to see that their equableness and placidity came from fulness, not from emptiness, and that they had passed through and beyond the stage of clever- ness and wit. It is as if a young musician, captivated by the admirable lucidity, the profound harmony, and the planet-like rhythm of Beethoven's latest music, should begin with direct imitations of his ninth symphony, or grand mass in D, or post- humous quartetts, instead of gradually working up to this per- fection through the simpler methods on which it is built. He began by trying to give a direct truthful imitation of the womanly charm, in Amelia Sedley and Helen Pendennis, and was re- luctantly obliged to abandon, or greatly modify, the method, which had only resulted in negative characters, feeble and brain- less. He afterwards infused more wit into them, and succeeded better. His progress was in the contrary direction to that of Shakespeare. One developed from Amelia to Ethel and the Little Sister ; the other, from Beatrice to Imogen. But who wiU say that the last of the one is equal to the first of the other ? Thackeray's great successes in female portraits are those where no theory withheld him from developing their intellects. Becky and Beatrix are his greatest creations. His good women are more or less marred by his attempting to give a direct descrip- tion of an indescribable charm. And the element of contrivance which he leaves to them, — that artless, negative, evasive cunning which is natural to women and children, and to the weak in presence of the strong, — can never, in novels, compensate for
Thackeray, 489
the loss of the positive aggressive artfulness of the woman who is determined to succeed.
Thus we have his criticism, history, art, and philosophy (if we may venture to attribute philosophy to a man who so energeti- cally repudiated the impeachment) all converging to one point, all aiming at one effect — to bring the heart into the mouth, the woman into the eyes, laughter to the lips, and the whole soul and intellect into the countenance ; to reanimate old portraits ; to make description and dialogue a vehicle for the exhibition of the soul ; to encourage all transparency, purity, brightness, sim- plicity, womanliness, even childlikeness of character ; to strip off the mask that intellect weaves round the soul ; to substitute love for law, kindness for strict justice ; and to discourage the empty pretences of improvement or of fancied dignity, which tempt a man to seem what he is not.
Thackeray was not a preacher to say one thing and do another. No author, except St. Augustine, ever made a truer or more com- plete confession of himself to his readers. He was thoroughly honest. '^ If my tap is not genuine, it is naught,^' he said. He was so very egotistical that his modesty compelled him to write under fictitious names. The anonymousness of " the author of Waverley," or of Boz, was more or less a whim. The pseudonyms of Thackeray were as necessary to' him as the veil was to Socrates when he was discoursing to Phsedrus. He felt that he could preach ; but how should he get into the pulpit in his own name, and tell his audience that they were all snobs ? A great deal of management was requisite. He had to speak to them, like -^sop, in fables ; like Edgar, in Lear^ he chose to minister to madness in the garb of folly; the cap and bells were to intro- duce him to court, and to license his tongue. He narrated of himself what he meant for his audience. He came before them as a flunkey, as a Jew, as a snob, as a bragging Irishman, to insinuate to them that they were so many flunkeys, Jews, snobs, and braggarts. It was only after he had secured attention in his disguises of Yellow-plush, Ikey Solomons, Titmarsh, Snob, Fitz- boodle, Brown, Stubbs, Gahagan, and the rest, that he ventured to appear under his own name in Vanity Fair ; and in the seri- ous works that followed, his modesty still compelled him to dis- guise himself in strange names. Pendennis, indeed, came out in his own name ; but after that he made the same use of the hero of the tale as Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton has made of Cax- ton. Pendennis became his editor in the press, and his vicar in the pulpit. Esmond was an autobiography. Lovel the Widower is narrated by a Mr. Bachelor. We have, then, two varieties of masks behind which Thackeray preached. One is the assumed mask of the Shakespearian fool, by which truth is established by
490 Thackeray.
its contrary, as the drunken helot preached sobriety ; the other is the scarcely- disguised personality of Thackeray himself. The two varieties have their points of contact iu Mr. Bachelor and Esmond.
The masks of the first kind are made somewhat after the pattern of Shakespeare's witches, or fairies, or Calibans — by ab- straction. They are imperfect men — human eidola, with some quality essential to the perfection of humanity obliterated from their souls. Not that Thackeray copied them from Shakespeare, or has made them at all like Shakespeare^s negative creations. The way they grew up in his mind is easily traced. The public in the fourth decade of this .century was enchanted with pictures of an impossible world, in which rogues worked villany with the motives and sentiments of heroes, lied out of love of truth, acted like profligates out of love of virtue, and like knaves out of hon- our; where doubt was philosophy, selfishness justice, anarchy government, and atheism religion. The diseased sentimental- ity of Ernest Maltravers, Jack Sheppard, and Oliver Twist , set Thackeray thinking how he could exhibit heroes similar to the two former, acting not indeed with the approval, but without the disapproval, of their consciences ; and he soon found a way of doing it, by cutting out the conscience altogether. As the French vivisectors extract a brute's cerebellum, or cut out his liver, and then watch how he behaves in his new condition, so did Thackeray, by a powerful effort of imagination, represent to him- self w/zpr in cipled men — men perfect in all their other faculties, but without the guiding clue of conscience, without the understand- ing to see that they lacked what other men possessed, and there- fore without any shame for their defect or their unprincipled acts. Swift had taught him one great secret of humorous writing — *' the grave and logical conduct of an absurd proposition.'^ " Given a country of people six inches or sixt}' feet high, and by the mere process of the logic a thousand wonderful absurdities are evolved at so many stages of the calculation/' Thackeray's masks are similar to Swift's in principle ; but they differ from them in the negative character of his assumptions. Given a man without the conception of right and wrong, how will he act and talk? The kind of solution Thackeray gave may be seen by a short extract from The Tremendous Adventures of Major Gahagan : *' I had been lucky enough to render the Nawaub of Lucknow some trifling service, and his highness sent down a gold toothpick- case directed to Captain G. Gahagan, which I of course thought was for me. My brother madly claimed it: we fought; and the consequence was, that in about three minutes he received a slash in the right side which effectually did his business. He was a good swordsman enough; I was the best in the universe. The
Thackeray, 491
most ridiculous part of the affair is^ that the toothpick- case was liis, after all. He had left it on the NawauVs table at tiffin. I ean't conceive what madness prompted him to fight about such a paltry bauble : he had much better have yielded it at once, when he saw I was determined to have it.^'
When Thackeray had once found out the secret of making the qualities he recommended conspicuous by their absence, and thus rendering them desiderata, he made good use of the method. The Fatal Boots is an example of it ; but it culminates in Barry Lyndon — a story where the grave irony is so artfully concealed, that it unites the interest of a romance with the pungency of the most humorous satire. Barry is more of a real personage than Gahagan or Bob Stubbs : the windbag which serves him for a heart is not utterly empty. He has an organ for some natural affection for his son, like Aaron in Titus Andronicus, But unlike Aaron, or lago, or Don John, or Barabas in The Jew of Malta, he has no love for wickedness in itself — no positive faculty for evil, which gloats over sin and hates virtue. He has a sublime unconsciousness, which accompanies him through the mazes of virtue and vice, making him take each as it comes, without being aware of any distinction between them. It is a rich vein ; and Thackeray delighted in his power of showing how characters wanting this or that human faculty would look. The slight fibre of satire that runs through Esmond is caused by the bland callosity with which the hero tells of deeds that exhibit his sub- mission to female influence, his defective views of honour, or the partiality of his judgments. Nothing can exceed the cool con- fession tacked on to his powerfully-conceived character of Marl- borough : '' A word of kindness might have changed my opinion of the great man, and instead of a satire have drawn out a pane- gyric." Thackeray's Hibernian portraits are painted on this principle. Their brag becomes an impotence, an inability to con- ceive that they can be known as well as they know. It comes not from imperfect education, but from want of a faculty; it is like a blind man's denial of colours. In Mr. Batchelor, the narrator of Lovel the Widower, there is a certain amount of vacuum; not enough to make him a rascal, scarcely enough to constitute a snob. He might be taken for something between Pendennis and Titmarsh, till we find that he hates children, and discover what he was meant for — a negative character, the same in principle as Barry Lyndon, but made fit for comedy by the slightness of his defaults. Elizabeth Prior is another such defective character. We have a clue to what she was intended for when we are told that " she was incorrigibly dull, and without a scintillation of humour." She is something less, not more, than woman.
This kind of character serves as a foil to those in which
4&2 Thackeray.
Thackeray speaks as lie really thinks; just as the fools and clowns iu Shakespeare^s plays give us the ironic and satirical counterpart of the serious business. But Shakespeare^s foils are infinitely varied ; all kinds of contrasts are employed ; whereas Thackeray seems to know only of one. He sets only the nega- tive over against the positive, opposes only the empty to the full, and so gives us but one phase of that great artistic contri- vance by which Shakespeare attained such magnificent results. Over against these ironical masks, in which he preaches by con- traries, by the reductio ad ahsurdum^ — as where he makes Mr. Snob cut his benefactor because he ate peas with his knife, — are the characters through which he speaks as he really thinks. These may be divided into two classes : those which represent himself as he really was, and those which are portraits of himseK as he wished to be — literal portraits and ideal portraits. Pen- dennis is an example of the former kind ; Colonel Newcome, of the latter. He has given us three principal autobiographical por- traits, painted at difierent times, and representing three phases of his mind. Pendennis we may call his phrenological portrait. It was painted at a period when Dr. Newman's writings, and still more his deeds, had great influence upon him ; and when his historical studies, reacting upon a temporary metaphysical turn of mind, had reduced him to a stage of great intellectual uncer- tainty, not to say scepticism. In Clive Newcome we have the reaction of youth and health, of the love of energy, of art, of beauty, against the pale cast of thought which sicklies over the portrait of Pendennis. And in Philip we have the final triumph of muscularity, the victory of the sentiments reinforced by the flesh over the intellect. It is a sad sight. First we see the gentle nature going to buffets with itself, its insurgent forces led on by captains wearing the rival colours of Macaulay, Dr. New- man, Professor Newman, and a host more. Chaos sits as umpire, and by his decision embroils the fray. In Clive Newcomers letter from Rome we see the battle-field, strewn with dead corpses of the conquered, on whom a handsome funeral oration is pronounced before they are consigned to oblivion, and room is left for the empty heart to offer hospitality to their successors. In Philip we see that Mr. Kingsley has got the vacant throne, though his tenure of the conscience of the Cornhill preacher is somewhat threatened by Mr. Lewes's materialism, Mr. Home's spiritualism, and the kindly epicureanism of old Horace, to whom Thackeray took more and more in his last years, when he began to relent from his cruel surgery, abandoned the probe and the knife, and became a lady's doctor, a minister of bread-pills and bank-drafts to cases of distress; when he began to protest against discovery, to reckon it the chief misfortune of a man to
\
Thackeray, 493
be found out, or to be esteemed precisely at his worth, to hate \dce mainly because it made the conscience so uncomfortable, and to suspect all virtues that had unpleasant consequences. By the example of the Little Sister he tries to make lying and rob- bery in a good cause seem acts of virtue, just as Victor Hugo does with his Sceur Simplice. His code was tolerant of a little wrong done to secure a great right. But it never tolerated as- cetic self-sacrifice. His hatred to Swift comes mainly from the fact that Swift's married life with Stella was that of brother and sister. He greets the phenomenon with a howl of execration. His ideal of love was always somewhat physiological, and never reached the chivalrous notion of perfect unselfishness. The most extravagant sacrifice made for it was in his eyes only one side of a bargain. Love was a price paid, not a free gift imparted. Our own good, not that of the beloved person, was always supposed to be its real object ; and a man was conceived to sit down and calculate his possible gains before making his venture. " 'Tis I that have fixed the value of the thing I would have, and know the price I would pay for it. It may be worthless to you, but 'tis all my life to me.''^ He had got aground on the rock of self; and so he missed the tide that promised to carry him over the bar of doubt. Whether Denis Duval was to be a fourth portrait of the writer in a more advanced stage of growth, we cannot tell. The fragment published displays extraordinary care, and characters, like those of Agnes's parents, which must be quite subsidiary to the main business of the plot, are finished miniatures. In Clarisse's catastrophe we see a version of a tragical incident which occurred a few years ago in the English literary world at Paris, interpreted according to the medico- psychological doctrines of Mr. Lewes. Denis himself was to be a great muscular sailor, approaching still nearer to Mr. Kings- ley's ideal than Philip ; and Agnes vvas to be his guardian angel, just as Laura was to Pendennis. " I might have remained," he says, " but for her, in my humble native lot, to be neither honest nor happy, but that my good angel yonder succoured me. All I have I owe to her ; but I pay with all I have, and what creature can do more ?" Thackeray in his last work still adheres to his old heresies concerning love. He exaggerates its part in life; and he debases its nature by reducing it to a bargain.
The other chai-acters in his novels were modelled after the two kinds of masks behind which he preached. His good characters were excerpts from himself, with certain imperfections suppressed, and certain germs of good developed to an ideal excellence. His questionable characters were formed upon the model of his ne- gative masks. His art reversed the old maxim, that "people
^ Esmond, iii. 57.
494 Thackeray.
oftener want something taken away than something added, to make them agreeable/' His black sheep are made so, not by the addition of any bad qualities, but by the subtraction of good ones. We look in vain among them for a strong character — for iron prejudices, or an adamantine will. There is no unconquer- able pride, no Satanic love of wickedness, as in lago or Aaron. There is much good-hcartedness, much desire to do better, all stopped by an impassable gulf, a vacuum, a nothing. The barriers which shut them out from goodness are ditches, not walls ; not alps, or boiling lava-streams, but morasses. They arc helpless evil-doers, not heroically wicked. Of such great charac- ters Thackeray had glimpses ; and he cowei^ed before them. He suspected Marlborough and Swift to be of their number. But his own villains are well called black sheep. Sheep they are; and one pities their tremulous helplessness more than one condemns their black bodies. This rule does not apply to his women ; his ideal of women was already so negative, he so bowed to Pope's decision that they have no characters at all, that to make them wicked he was obliged to add. Subtraction would have left nothing at all, good or evil. Feminine softness and simplicity could be changed to their opposites only by the addition of firm- ness of will and activity of intellect. On this principle he con- trasted Becky and Amelia in Vanity Fair. Afterwards, he never created such unmixed characters, but generally strove to give his good women some share of firmness and intellectual strength. There is a great deal of hard metal in Rachel Esmond, — of un- relenting pride, of silent vindictiveness, of unsleeping jealousy, of determination to command. So there is in Madame War- rington. Helen Pendennis is nearly as soft as Amelia; but Laura's heart is begirt by many excellent gifts of head ; while in Ethel Newcome intellect, haughtiness, high spirits, resumed their proper position in the literary ideal of womanhood. Perhaps Thackeray's women might be ranged in two columns, one headed by Becky, the other by Amelia. In Becky's column the intel- lect and will is the central organ ; in Amelia's, the heart. The two types gradually run together by borrowing of each other, till at last, in spite of Thackeray's predilections, taste conquers theory, and head with additions borrowed from heart proves itself more truly feminine than heart with additions borrowed from head. In Becky, Blanche, Beatrix, Ethel, we see a parallel to Amelia, Helen, Rachel, and Laura; and in Ethel, the lineal descendant of Becky, we recognise a much truer woman than in Laura, the lineal descendant of the ultra-feminine Amelia. Only contrast the two in the critical incidents of their lives — Ethel refusing to marry Farintosh, and Laura urging Pen to marry Blanche. The moral we draw is, that when affections are
Tliacheray. 495
superadded to intellect the intellect knows well what to do with them ; but when intellect is superadded to heart the heart does not understand how to handle the edged tool, and makes a sad mess with it.
We will hazard another remark upon the charming portrait of Beatrix Esmond, upon which Thackeray has lavished all his art, and all his subtle knowledge of the women of the great world. It will be granted that, when a poet is discovering what his characters must say, he wdll let them say it in their own words; whereas, when he is inventing what they shall do in order to conform to his theory, the easiest plan is to describe them. The dramatic method is proper for objective, self-de- veloping art; the descriptive method for subjective theoretic art. Now it seems to us that, if we divide the passages which relate to Beatrix in Esmond into those which deal with her dramatically and those where gossip babbles about her, we shall find two Beatrixes ; one the delightful vision which laughs and dances through the story, the other an attendant wTaith, a malignant double which haunts her, but is not herself, to whom we must attribute much that we can scarcely believe of the real Beatrix. Of course, any woman can sink to any depth of degra- dation ; that is a fact not to be questioned. The question here is, whether the fall of Beatrix is artistically consistent, whether it is the legitimate result of the germs of self-will, giddiness, jealousy, obstinacy, selfishness, and love of admiration, w^hich are innate in her disposition, or whether it is a foreign addition plastered on her to justify Thackeray^s theoretical spite against women of intellect ? Was this theory so strong in him as to force him to calumniate the finest creation of his genius ? His anxiety to justify himself shows that he had misgivings about it. He tells us that pride will have a fall ; and yet he owns that Beatrix was not so proud as her mother. And then she only followed the example of the women of the Castlewood family. Again, the apologetical confession put into her mouth when dying, in The Virginians, is not only somewhat at variance with what is told us at the end of Esmond, but bears all the marks of an after-thought interposed to render probable something that was felt to sin against artistic credibility. It is hardly natural, moreover, to make the brilliant and experienced woman of the world the dupe of the dissipated young Prince. And as Bea- trix's worst vices are plastered on by historical addition, so are the intellectual qualities of Rachel. She comes out dramatically as a woman of more solid judgment, of greater stability and depth, than her daughter. But when we are told that 'Trix was not so incomparably witty as her mother, we can only reply that she shows herself incomparably more so. The poet was
406 Thackeray.
still groping in the dark for the just mixture of head and heart proper for ideal womanhood.
We see, then, how the characters in Thackeray^s novels are confessions and exhibitions of his own inner world of thought and feeling — of his soul, his ideals, his loves and his hatreds, his con- victions and his doubts. And the circumstances with which he surrounds his characters are only memorials of his varied expe- riences. He gives us pictures of his school-life at the Charter House, or, as he calls it, the " Slaughter House,'^ or " Grey Friars" School, where he educates Pen and Clive and Philip, his three representatives. We have reminiscences of his countrj^ and college life in Pendennis, of his German experiences in Barry Lyndon and The Newcomes, of his Parisian experiences in Philip, of his connection with the literary world of Fraser's Magazine in Pendennis, and with the artists in The Newcomes, In all these he attempted to make his pictures literally true to nature. When accused of traducing his art by his pictures of the loose lives of men of letters, he replied, " My attempt was to tell the truth, and I meant to tell it not unkindly. I have seen the bookseller whom Bludyer robbed of his books ; I have carried money from a noble brother man of letters to some one not unlike Shandon in prison, and have watched the beautiful devotion of his wife in that dreary place." All three representatives of himself. Pen, Clive, and PhUip, begin life in affluence, lose their money, and for a while are forced to support themselves precariously on lite- rature or their art. Philip even begins the world with the pre- cise sum which is said to have been Thackeray's fortune, 30,000/. But there is one event in his life, the blow which deprived him of his wife's society, which had a much more important effect on his writings. It was his great sorrow. He never alludes to it exce]5t once, in a note at the end of his interrupted Shabby-yen- teel Story ; yet his works are full of it. Milton once or twice mentions his own blindness, and then passes on, forgetting self in his epic inspiration. Thackeray never mentions, and yet never forgets, or allows his readers to forget, the cloud that darkened his life, and tinged all his feelings with a funereal hue. Like Hamlet, he had seen a ghost; and, though he swore all his senses to secresy, he could not conceal the trans- formation of character which had been worked in him by the visitation. The meditation of his life was concentrated on one hopeless feeling, without antecedent or consequent, the shadow of which made the rest of his existence a weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable blank. His misfortune made him look upon the world with the eye of a humourist who had nothing more to do than to deliver his brief message and die, and planted the suspicion in his mind that in the secret closet of all woebegone
Thackeray, 407
men a skeleton sometliing like his own was hanging. To this we trace much of his peculiar humour.
Satire is the offspring of indignation ; but humour is the child of melancholy. The first stage of humour begins with that mental and physical lassitude which succeeds acute sor- row, when the man, having strung his feelings beyond their usual tension, and exerted his thoughts beyond their common pitch, must either sink into inanity, or seek relief in some sportive change.
rtXXoTf n^v re yoo) cfiptva repTrofiai, aXXore S' avre Trauo/xai* al'^'qpos be Kopos Kpvepoio yooto.
Niebuhr accounts for the gay and bantering tone of Cicero^s speech pro Murcena, delivered amidst the harassing anxieties of Catiline's conspiracy, by the levity with which a great statesman tarns to private matters, unable to conceive how a person to whom they are all in all can feel offended at the natural expres- sion of a good-natured contempt. Hamlet, just harrowed by the Ghost's revelation, bawls out to his companions in the most boisterous way. Cruelty generally conceals itself behind a ludi- crous and grotesque way of regarding the horrors it inflicts. "I deny that nature meant us to sympathise with agonies,^' says Charles Lamb ; " those face contortions, retortions, distortions, have the merriness of antics. Nature meant them for farce." Pain and sorrow gradually fade away in humour :
" Men who wear grief long Will get to wear it as a hat, aside, AVith a flower stuck in it."
The transition maybe difficult to explain, but it is a fact. Every cause has more than one effect. As the reaction of too keen a joy causes tears, so does the reaction of grief cause a kind of moody merriment as one of its effects :
" Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, Which show like grief itself, but are not so."
Humour in its first stage is one of these attendant shadows. It is the act of the heart seeking to suppress the first feelings ex- cited by overwhelming thoughts, and to substitute for them the secondary feelings which arise with the reaction of lassitude. It is the reality which the affectation of Byron strove to imitate when it confessed that the prizes of life were not worth living for, and therefore gave itself up helplessly to a hatred of man- kind, pretended to have found out the hoUowness of every aim of life, and resigned itself to be the slave of vices which had become hateful through satiety. Swift was a truer exponent of it ; but even in his hands it appeared to Thackeray quite heart- less and wrong.
498 Thackeraij.
The second stage of humour cultivates these secondary feelings no longer in order to suppress the sterner thoughts for which they were substituted, but to excite the like feelings by remi- niscence and association. After the mind has descended from painful excitement to a kind of weary levity, it can reverse its course, and ascend again through something akin to this levity to something resembling the original excitement. This reversed motion is the second degree of humour. Its aim is to restore, in a reflective form, those same feelings which were so painful in their direct action as to force the mind to take refuge in levity. If we consider what it is from which we usually try to escape by this issue, we shall find that it is not the vicious feelings, such as hatred, envy, and revenge, which, however painful, give us a morose and gloomy joy as long as we care to brood over them, but those bitter-sweet feelings which the conscience does not con- demn, though in their first access they are too keen to be long endurable, — pity, sorrow, awe, and fear. Cruelty is humorous, not to escape the morose pleasure of inflicting pain, but to escape the accompanying disapprobation of the conscience. Its humour is of the first stage ; it is intolerant of the second, which would tend to renew the pricks of conscience. "VVe may define humour, then, in its second and proper stage, to be an ironical method of restoring, through the imagination, those tender and pathetic feelings which in their first visitation over-excited the soul, and soon brought on the reaction of an almost delirious lassitude. It is an attempt to go up the same ladder which w^e came down ; to reascend through levity to pathos, as we descended from pathos to levity.
There is an intellectual as well as a moral humour. As faith, overwrought, unbends itself in the irreverent familiarities of a Neapolitan mob, so is it possible to reverse the motion, and to reascend to faith through the ironical mockeries of an apparent scepticism. An example of this process is afforded by the Book of Ecclesiastcs, which dull commentators have regarded as a mere cold, materialistic outpouring of Sadducism. The same learned pundits would doubtless gather from Erskine's humorous remark on a miser who had died worth 200,000/., " A pretty sum to begin the next world with," that he believed ghosts bought and sold in limbo.
It is hard to imagine that the connection between any parti- cular painful feeling and its humorous reaction depends on a pre- established harmony of things, and not rather on an accidental association of ideas, deriving its power from the organisation of the individual mind. Humour, on this view, is a personal thing. AVhat is humorous to one man may not be so to another. He who is dull to a species of hiunour which affects the majority,
Thackeray, 409^
may be fully alive to another species which, most men have no taste for. Humour reveals the man and his individual feelings, and has little to do with logic or dialectics. But it can never be selfish. Humour and the selfish passions — pride, conceit, vanity, an exaggerated sense of dignity, — and the desires built upon them — ambition, covetousness, and self-seeking, — are mutually destruc- tive of each other. Pride cannot laugh at itself without ceasing to be pride ; and the sense of personal dignity has found its true level when it can treat itself with easy contempt. The second kind of humour, that ironical levity by which we seek to restore the original feelings, is still more inconceivable as a stepping-stone to selfishness. Fancy founding pride upon self-ridicule, or vanity upon a confession of one's foibles ! Humour, then, can never be the foundation of offensive egotism, though the humourist must be allowed to make people look through his eyes, and in the simplicity of his heart to preach a novel view of the world and of society, and to broach new plans for making mankind happy. Any more concentrated form of selfishness is hateful to him; since his method is only applicable to feelings of tender- ness, melancholy, and sorrow, to the sentiments that respond to death, or misfortune, or the instability of happiness, or the ex- tinction of love. Selfish motives and selfish vices have nothing in common with these feelings, and therefore excite in him no interest, but rather indignation and abhorrence; whereas the aberrations of weakness and tenderness stand in no such contra- diction to his feelings, and are treated with great indulgence.
It may be asked how the pathetic feelings come to be so keen as to be intolerable, and yet so attractive as to make us seek to restore them. It is because they open out to us a dim view of an unknown abyss, of which they seem to be the echoes and vibra- tions. Through them our souls are brought into almost con- scious contact with the infinite. This it is which gives them their insufferable keenness and overwhelming force, and at the same time brings them into direct relation with humour, the essence of which, as Coleridge points out, consists in confounding together all finite things, in making the great little and the little great, in order to destroy both, and to exhibit them as equal nothings in comparison with the infinite. It is also the reflection of the infinite in these feelings which draws us back towards them after we have done our best to escape from them, which wins us over to love them in spite of their painfulness, and causes us to return to them by the same path that led us from them. Not that humour seeks to restore these feelings in their direct energy, so as once more to pierce the heart and prostrate the nerves with terror and pathos. It seeks to bring them back modified and mitigated by the humorous levity which succeeded
VOL. IV. I I
500 Thackeray.
them in the reaction of lassitude, and to restore pathos and terror under the veil of the ludicrous images which the cunning bravado of a light-headed exhaustion first imposed upon them. The preacher, on the contrary, seeks to excite these feelings in their native directness. Thackeray seems to have forgotten this distinction when he describes the humorous writer as one who "professes to awaken and direct your love, your pity, your kindness ; your scorn for untruth, pretension, imposture ; your tenderness for the weak, the poor, the oppressed, the unhappy ;'' as one who " comments on all the ordinary actions and passions of life, and takes upon himself to be the week-day preacher." The preacher and the humourist both profess this craft; but one tries to pierce the flesh with fear, and to make men fix their eyes on the Infinite, while the other only tries to awaken an indirect reminiscence of the Infinite, through the disproportion of his language and imagery to the finite things of which he professes to treat. What is the Cervantic method, speaking of ridiculous things in the gi-andest phrases, or Swift^s method, speaking of grand things in the lowest terms, but a perpetual tacit allusion to a common measure, kept in the background, unseen but felt, which equalises all finite magnitudes by the overwhelming disproportion of its transcendent infinity?
But if Thackeray overlooked the distinction between the preacher and humourist, he did not forget the difference be- tween the two kinds of humour. In a remarkable conversa- tion between Pendennis and Warrington^ the two men symbolise the two degrees in question. Pen, who has tried every thing, like Solomon, and has found the vanity of all, breaks out into the listless sceptical humour, which neither hopes, nor cares, nor believes. Warrington, struck down by a sorrow es- sentially different from Thackeray's, but yet similar to it in some of its effects, nurses his grief, and makes it the kindly mother of an equitable view of mankind. The one seeks to escape the presence of the Infinite, through a humorous view of life ; the other, by a somewhat similar view, to keep the Infinite ever in mind. "We set up,^* says Pen, "our paltry little standards to measure Heaven immeasurable, as if, in com- parison to that, Newton's mind or Shakespeare's was any loftier than mine .... measured by that altitude the tallest and the smallest among us are so alike diminutive and pitifully base, that we should take no account of the calculation, and it is meanness to reckon the difference." Warrington answers, " Your figure fails there ; if even by common arithmetic we can multiply, as we can reduce, almost infinitely, the Great Reck- oner must take account of all ; and the small is not small, or 4 Pendennis f ii. 231-236.
Thackeray. 5(fk
the great great, to His infinity/^ Pen pretends to descend from the Infinite to the world, and to find all human dilSPerences piti- fully base. Warrington ascends from these differences to the Infinite, and finds that their distinctions are even enhanced by the process. One divided by infinity is nothing ; but one mul- tiplied by infinity is infinite. It is curious that, though Thack- eray adopts Pen as his representative, he should make Warring- ton the representative of his peculiar humour. Perhaps the explanation is, that he is both Pendennis and Warrington, and that the two interlocutors represent two phases of his mind be- tween which he oscillates. Thus the Pendennis speaks in him when he says, " What a good breakfast you eat after an execu- tion ! how pleasant it is to cut jokes after it, and upon it !" while the Warrington speaks when with keen irony he seeks to reproduce in his readers the horror he felt at the " blood tonic'' of a public hanging. We may remark, in passing, that if any one wishes to see the illogical nature of humour, he has only to read the paper entitled Goiiig to see a Man hanged, where he will find an argument against executions, founded on these three propositions : 1 . Every man in the crowd was as sensible, and politically as well educated, as myself. 2. The execution pro- duced on me the most profound feeling of shame and horror. 3. Therefore executions are to be abolished, because they pro- duce no feeling at all but one of levity on the unthinking and unreasoning mob. The writer does not seem to have remem- bered that this levity might be in their case what it was in his own — the reaction against a feeling of horror too overwhelming to be borne for many seconds in its direct incidence.
Thackeray calls himself a week-day, and not a Sunday, preacher. Perhaps the reason is twofold : first, that his style i? humorous, seeking to attain a moral end in a roundabout instead of a direct manner; and secondly, that be does not meddle imme- diately with the highest things. He leaves the Sunday preacher to speak of God, and contents himself with the lower line of enforcing the social virtues. These virtues hold a middle place between the infinite and the finite ; they have sufficient magni- tude to obliterate by comparison all differences between mere material interests, and to put to shame all the pretensions of rank, wealth, fashion, talents, where virtue and love are wanting, — all the objects for which men usually strive, to the neglect of the heart, and of the love of wife and children. And then when he has done this he turns round upon the affections themselves, and declares them also to be tainted with vanity. Love dies, or corrupts into hatred. Hope satisfied is disappointment. "Oaths mutually sworn, and invocations of heaven, and priestly cere- monies, and fond belief, and love, so fond and beautiful that it
502 Thackeray,
never doubted but that it should live for ever, are all of no avail towards making love eternal; it dies, in spite of the banns and the priest.'^ " Vanitas vanitatum ! which of us is happy in this world? which of us has his desire? or, having it, is satisfied?" Sorrow inspired him with the mood of Shakespeare's Richard IL, and made him sit and talk of graves. It gave him the same humorous conception of death as an antic, scoffmg at state, grinning at pomp, contemptuously granting a few hours for conceit to strut through his part, and then boring through his castle-wall with a little pin. It made him wash to throw away tradition, form, and ceremony, and to realise, ideally, Herr Teufelsdrockh's hypochondriac fancy of a whole court stripped naked, and dukes, grandees, bishops, generals, anointed presence itself standing straddling without a shirt on them, leaving the spectator suspended between laughter and tears. But amidst these grim fancies he remembered how the banquet of fruits tasted before it w^as turned to dust and ashes ; how the music sounded before the sweet bells were jangled ; how the brave garments glistened before the moth had fretted them. In the midst of the fever which embittered his fine taste for pleasure, furred his tongue, and dulled his appetite, he babbled of good cheer. And the cheery pipe of the brave Epicurean ceased not, though he was crushed and maimed under the heels of a gigantic calamity.
His sorrow, again, working on a nature already, perhaps, in- clined to give to the sentimental side of humanity too wide a part in life, and leaving too little room for energy, thought, and skill, made him see the image of his own woe in all other sorrows, and attribute them to similar causes. As there is a selfishness of love, so there is a selfishness of grief. A man may be so ena- moured of his own sentiment as to love being in love more than he loves the person with whom he is in love ; and he may feel grief so grievously as to transfer his sorrow from the object for which he grieves to his grief itself; he may pity himself more than he pities his lost friend. Thackeray^s married life was, we believe, eminently happy ; and the blow which deprived him of the society of his wife was one which could only make him pity her and love her the more. Still the effect of a loss thus blamelessly inflicted was materially the same as that of less innocent blows. And Thackeray, sitting by his lonely fireside, might by a small effort of imagination put himself into the place of those who were as hopelessly injured, but by others' faults instead of by the unre- spective course of nature. Shakespeare shows us Lear attributing every misery to unkind daughters. He might as naturally have exhibited Hecuba or Niobe seeing in every woe the image of sons and daughters untimely snatched away. He might in all three
Thackeray. 508
cases have gone a step further back, and made Lear, Hecuba, and Niobe find the common source of every sorrow in having sons or daughters at all, or, having them, in loving them too well. A person in a similar situation, contemplating his misery only, and abstracting all consideration of the once dear objects for whicli he mourned, might easily work himself up to hate, not those objects, but his connection with them — to hate having had a wife, or children, whose loss could entail such a sorrow. All affection involves this possibility of wretchedness. Having thee, says Shakespeare, I have all men's felicity —
" AVretclied in this alone, that tbou may'st take All this away, and me most wretched make."
An ascetic nature would be led by such a course of thought to crush all earthly love. Thackeray Avas led by it to his theor}^ of mitigated affections. He took the sting out of happiness by putting it on low diet. He guarded against the violence of the reaction by curbing the original energy. He indulged in a melancholy and listless view of life, which made him represent a second marriage as the nearest approach to contented felicity possible on this side the grave. In his novels, the first ventures of passion are gene- rally unfortunate ; most of his favourite characters either love or marry the wrong person, and then find their comfort in the com- pany of a child to cheer their widowhood, or, like Warrington, gaze wistfully upon some unattainable Laura and veil their heads in the mantle of aimless endurance, or else find contentment in a new marriage from which they do not expect too much. Middle- aged love was for him the happiest because the most measured. For this cause his novels seldom end with the marriage of the young people, but pursue their career beyond, to show how ill- assorted are these unions of youth. He even advises us to drown our first loves like blind puppies ; he hints that the edge of this keen passion should be blunted on two or three transitory attach- ments before it is fitted for domestic use. Thus the head of a house at Oxford, some twenty years ago, would get an under- graduate to gallop his hack all the morning before he would trust himself on its back for his afternoon ride.
It was not only the violence of passion which he feared as tending to an incontrollable reaction, but the blindness which such a passion generally produces. He is fond of painting the miseries threatened by ill-assorted unions of families, — such as that of the Pendennises with the Costigans, or with Fanny and her relations, of Warrington with his wife's family, of Clive and his father with the Campaigner's household, of Philip with the Twysdens. For this reason there was one thing which he detested worse than blind passion as a matchmaker — money. For passion he had pity and forgiveness ; but a purse-inspecting, lack-love.
504 Thackeray.
mismatching Hymen was for him, next to the gallows and war, the wickedest thing he could think of. Passion might ferment into love ; but what relation could there ever be between love and money ? He forgot that money was a mere accident, and that it is not the money that a man marries, but the woman who has it ; and he forgot the self-adapting powers of the human heart. And so, for a very different reason, he scouted, with Johnson, the idea that matches were made in heaven. The old moralist thought that almost any man and woman might make themselves com- fortable together; and that, when it was so easy for people to sort themselves, it was mere irreverence to bring doAvn a god in a machine to do it for them. But Thackeray considered matches in general so ill-sorted that it was as blasphemous to give heaven the credit of the business as to give it credit for the horse -dealing at Tattersairs. He approved of matchmaking -, no woman worth a pin is not a matchmaker, he often says. But the most mortal of sinners is the mercenary matchmaker, whose voluntary victims, in a disgusting passage oi Philip, he compares to the victims of passion, and calls the '^ true unfortunates.^^ He kept a very hot hole in his Inferno for unbelievers who pronounced it unadvisable to marry without a thousand a year, and made several of his favourite heroes marry on nothing ; but they are always saved in the nick of time by the death of a rich uncle or by a legacy. He gives no illustration of the fate of imprudent couples whom no such luck attends.
We have said enough to show with what native simplicity Thackeray exhibits his inmost soul and experiences in his cha- racters, in the circumstances with which he surrounds them, in his humour, and in his moral judgments and opinions. And he reveals his intellect quite as clearly as his heart. We may per- haps call his a proverbial mind. The proverb is the verdict of popular feeling and shrewd common sense on a given line of conduct, pronounced without a thought bestowed on other lines for which an opposite decision might be more fitting. To the over-venturesome, the proverb-monger whispers " a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,'' without a misgiving of en- couraging that over-caution to which he shouts out the next minute, "nothing venture, nothing win.'' Proverbs are but extemporaneous, and therefore unarranged, ejaculations of cau- tion or encouragement. They run in couples, pointed against the two contradictory extremes to which any true principle may be pushed. Our old writers were fond of keeping up a game of repartees, dialogue-wise, in proverbs. This could not be done with principles, which take the middle line; though their abuse may be corrected by their attendant proverbs, their true meaning cannot be contradicted without sophistry. There is no
Thackeray, 505
current objection to tlie principles, '^ do as you would be done by/^ and " render to each his due," except in the world of cheats and pickpockets.
If this is the nature of proverbs, a man's mind may be called proverbial when he has a shrewd, observant common sense at the service of a precipitate judgment — when he is so preoccupied by the case in hand that he has no eyes or ears for exceptions, but chivalrously challenges all the world to dispute the sove- reign claim of the clear truth which for the moment enthrals his soul. Sufficient for the occasion is the truth thereof. He throws himself into the controversy of the hour, takes the popu- lar side with his whole soul, and devotes all the brilliancy of his wit to stating its principles in the most axiomatic form. He is not careful of contradicting himself. Relying upon the people, he thinks it next door to blasphemy when one man brings his poor logic into competition with the inspirations of the great heart of humanity. He habitually makes the reason a parasite of feeling, devotes the brain to the service of the heart, and is ashamed at no lapse of logic which is defensible by sentiment. He treats reason as the Philistines treated Samson ; he sets it to grind, or brings it out to make sport. He suspects intel- lectual superiority to be rather a stumbling-block than a spur to jog-trot goodness, and only to be valued as lending a tongue to geniality, nature, cordiality, freshness, and honest impulsiveness, wherewith to defy, ridicule, and lampoon their opposites. Or he takes another road, and views every thing from the standpoint of the most wide-awake self-interest. He rejoices in exhibiting art, reason, genius, respectability, in undress and slippers, to the confusion of prim people. He recklessly shows up his enemies, himself, and his friends, who are duly grateful. He loves to contradict some respectable old platitude, some self-evident truth to which he has discovered an exception. "It is an error,'' says Thackeray, " to talk of the simplicity of youth. No per- sons are more hypocritical, and have a more affected behaviour to one another than the young. They deceive themselves and each other with artifices which do not impose upon men of the world; and so we get to understand truth better, and grow simpler, as we grow older."
The two classes into which Thackeray's writings and charac- ters divide themselves are a natural result of the polarity of the proverbial mind, which evacuates the flats in the middle, and occupies the heights on each hand. Hence also comes his multi- fariousness, which is the despair of critics. He has no care to be consistent. His soul is a crystal of many facets, each reflect- ing truly and brilliantly the scene lying in its axis. His hospit- -able brain is tolerant of contradictions. He not only sees that
506 Thackeray,
a fact is a fact, in spite of want of logic, but he also takes his generalisations for facts, and exalts his proverbial maxim, flashed out from two or three instances, into a general principle, and so passes from the truth that contradictory -looking facts arc pos- sible together, to the fiction that contradictory principles can coexist, — a fiction which gradually undermines all allegiance to intellectual truth, sets up sincerity as more true than ortho- doxy, squeezes all dogma out of religion, all certainty out of j)hilos^phy, all principles out of politics, and all form, ceremony, degree, and order out of society. Then he more easily pardons sins against truth than against beauty, and so cuts away the old ground of respectable criticism. The literary honours he seeks are tears and sympathy with his sorrow and his mirth. He would be the toast-master to direct the sentiments of mankind, rather than the philosopher to guide their belief. With logical sharaelessness he mixes a certain want of shame for aesthetic weaknesses which minds less tender seek to conceal. With his contempt for critics, he makes no secret of his annoyance at criticism ; yet, with his want of fixed principles, he often adopts for the moment those of the critic who inflicts the wound. Or he staves-off" criticism by being beforehand with it, anticipating grumblers by himself saying what he knows they will say. " Pereant male qui ante nos nostra dixerunt \" Nothing is easier than to criticise Thackeray's weak places ; but nothing is harder than to say of them what he has not somewhere said before us. He seeks indulgence for his sin by a previous confession of it, and puts on the penitential sheet before he utters his lampoons. He is sorry that such a set has always been made against clever women, and then he creates a Becky and a Beatrix ! He tells us that a public school ruins a boy body and soul,^ and then dwells lovingly on his Charter-House life. He abuses Dickens and Ainsworth for erecting thieves and prostitutes into heroes and heroines by an ex-parte statement of their virtues, and then praises Oliver Twist almost as pious reading. At the end of Pendennis he tells us how the hero, that is himself, became a member of parliament. In The Newcomes that dignity is achieved by the Colonel ; but in Philip, after the Oxford failure of 1857, he makes the cynical but truth-speaking old lord wish some tyrant would shut up all our "jaw-shops," and gives the sour vintage as a prize to the wicked Mulatto. To make a catalogue of his various contradictions would be an endless task, and would not help us much to discriminate his character, since similar contradictions are common to all comprehensive intellects. We call Shakespeare "myriad-minded," because "millions of strange shadows" attended on him. Instead of the one shade which
» Miscell. iv. 241.
Thackeray. 507
common mortals cast, lie, but one, could '^ every shadow lend." But he combined all their tones into one mighty volume, where- as in Thackeray we seek in vain for any such combining force. The first principle in Shakespeare's mind was that which gave the sceptre to " degree, priority, and place, insistence, course, proportion, season, form, office, and custom in all line of order." The first effect of Thackeray^ s philosophy is to undermine the supremacy of order and ceremony because of the abuses to which it gives rise. He hated the cut-and-dry in the state, in spciety, or in the mind. He had not much sympathy with the starched ruffles of the Elizabethan epoch. He liked the loose extempo- raneous epigrammatic flashes of Anne's time, or the mythical wildness of the youth of Henry V., the young prince and Poins, of which period he once contemplated writing a stor}^ He be- lieved in wild oats. He thought, with old Elowerdale in the London Prodigal j that " they who die most virtuous have in their youth lived most vicious." Shakespeare believed in them too, — as a possibility, not as a necessity. He did not take a re- formed prodigal as his universal type of the manly character. Thackeray made his wild-oats theory almost into an axiom, whereas Shakespeare only made it one among the numberless colours which he employed in painting his great panorama of humanity.
His dislike to the cut-and-dry, which led him to prefer the literature of the age of Anne, — Addison, Steele, Fielding, and Swift, and the '^cheery charming gossip" of Horace Walpole, leading us through his "brilliant, jigging, smirking Vanity Fair," together with HowelFs Letters, Montaigne's Essays, French lite- rature generally, and, above all, Horace, — did not prevent him from being a man of artificial mind. However much he railed at the forms of polite society, he understood them better than the forms of humanity. Compare his backgrounds with George Eliot's. George Eliot has nothing more busy, nothing more true to life, than that wonderful picture of Waterloo without the fighting, which we have in Vanity Fair. Yet, when we come to look at it, it is but a busy mass of camp-followers. All the arti- ficial combinations of men — a regiment, a school, a college, an academy of arts, a boarding-house, a dramng-room, ambubaiarum collegia, pharmacopolse — he paints them all to perfection; but not a populace, not a mob, not the society of a country town or a village, not a civil or political society, not even a family. Where George Eliot would have given us the movements of the Brus- sels mob and of the native society, Thackeray only gives us the pulsations of the hearts of the officer's wives and servants, and of runaway soldiers and their sweethearts. What idea have we of the domestic economy of the Pendennises, or Newcomes,
508 Thackeray,
or Twysdens, comparable to that which George Eliot gives us of the miller on the Floss, his children, his wife, and sisters-in-law, or of the Bedes, the Poysers, or the Casses ? Thackeray is in his glory in the drawing-room, the club, the studio, the ball- room, at Baden Baden, or at the West-End of London ; where George Eliot is almost as clumsy as a swan on a turnpike road. He hardly recognised the fact that the literary, artistic, learned, and polite society which he enjoyed so much was only the bloom of a vast tree, the top-story of an enormous basement, all held together by the gradation, law, and order, which his philosophy unduly depreciates. He was somewhat like the rustic who sat on the branch that he was sawing off.
His artistic forms were determined by his vocation as preacher and humourist. As preacher he was not subject to the law actum ne agas, but had a perfect right to iterate his lessons. " Oh, my beloved congregation, I have preached this stale sermon to you for ever so many years." As humourist he was not bound to be consecutive ; for digression is the very form and vehicle of humour, which is not found in orderly arrangement, but in extraordinary comparisons and juxtaposi- tions of the great with the little. He reconciled the somewhat inconsistent tasks of humourist and stoiy-teller in three different ways. The most artistic is that used in Barry Lyndon, Esmond^ and Lovel the Widower, where the hero is also the nan-ator. For in an autobiography the author does not profess to deal only with the events, but also with the impression they make on him : his reflections are perfectly in place ; they are no impertinent interferences, but integral parts of the original design. In his other novels he either acts as chorus in his own person, or employs some fictitious character as narrator and chorus. In Vanity Fair he uses the former method, and asks leave, in- troducing his characters, to step down from the platform and offer his explanations about them. Otherwise, he says, you might fancy it was I who was sneering at devotion, or laughing good- humouredly at a drunken villain. Where he uses a fictitious person like Pendennis to narrate for him, the effect is improved ; Pendennis and Laura, like George Eliot's village or Florentine communities, form a kind of background to the piece, and serve to connect the plot with the preachings.
Several causes conspire to make Esmond his best novel. We have already noticed the value of its autobiographical form. An- other reason is its thoroughly literary character. Alone of his larger works it was not given to the world in monthly parts, but all at once. Its laborious imitation of the style of the writers of Anne's age, its circumstantial exactness to the costume, the man- ners, and the feelings of those times, were voluntary fetters, which
Thackeray, 509
only increased the agility and grace of the athlete. It will not be so valuable to the antiquarian of the next century as a contem- porary painting ; but it will be proportionately more valuable to the poet as a picture of human nature. Pegasus never exhibits his mettle so well as when he is checked with the brake; nothing makes the reader yawn more than an art which flew down the writer's mouth while he was yawning. Labour sharpens the mind and polishes the wit; its benefit is not confined to the single detail on which it is expended ; it reacts on the workman, and through him on his whole work and all its parts. To aim at clearness of expression is also to seek clearness of thought, logical arrangement of parts, and unity of the whole. Esmond has Thackeray^ s best plot, some of his best characters, his most subtle reflections, his most delicate pathos, and his most poetic language. There are single sentences in it which contain more poetry than all his ballads, the best of which are the funniest and most nonsensical.
Vanity Fair is his most objective work, because none of the characters in it are portraits of himself. Dobbin, perhaps, like his more finished successor Colonel Newcome, is a character par- tially copied from the simpler and less vigorous side of Thackeray^s own nature. But he was never meant for a representative of the author, like Pen, Clive, and Philip. The other characters of the book are painted not from the author^s self-consciousness, but from imagination not over-much disturbed by theory, and em- ploying its extraordinary powers of observation with Shandean minuteness. Here his knowledge of the world comes out in great force, reflected in Becky^s tact. He is said to have been not remarkably gifted with this quality; and in painting it so well, therefore, he gave proof of being able to appreciate what he was unable to assimilate. But it is one thing to write, another to act on the spur of the moment. Thackeray com- plains that his inward counsellor was a tardy Epimetheus, and that his best witticisms were generally too late.
He was chary of his ideas. As Cervantes traverses the same ground for the second, third, or fourth time, if he can find so many improved methods of going over it, so Thackeray gathers up the ideas he has wasted, or has not made the most of, and works them up again. His successive portraits of managing old women — Miss Crawley, Lady Castlewood, Lady Rockminster, the Baroness Bernstein, and Lady Kew — are well worth studying, as varied developments of a single idea. He used a character or an incident as a musician uses a tune ; he repeated it, or varied it, or inverted it, as his fancy moved him. We see the last method employed in the inverted correspondence between the parentage of Esmond and that of PhiUp Firmin — and between
510 I'hackeray.
Esmond^s renunciation of his mothers rights for fear of dispos- sessing Frank Castlewood, and the little sister's renunciation of her OAvn rights for fear of dispossessing Philip.
We fear we have said too little on Thackeray's comic power ; indeed, we have said nothing about it, except what is implied in our remarks on his humour. And, perhaps, the less said the better. " Qui ejus rei rationem quandam conati sunt artemque tradere," says Caesar in Cicero, " sic insulsi exstiterunt, ut nihil aliud eorum, nisi ipsa insulsitas, rideatur." Neither will we praise the beauty of his language in our rough periods. Nor will we speak of his drawings. But there is one subject on which we are constrained to say a few words — his religious tendencies. There can be no doubt that he once tried to be a Catholic. " I cannot believe,'' he makes Esmond say, ^^that St. Francis Xavier sailed over the sea in a cloak, or raised the dead. I tried, and very nearly did once, but cannot." Comparing this with similar passages in Pendennis and The Neivcomes, we cannot doubt its being a confession both of his tendency and of the obstacles which checked him. At some period of his life, and in accordance with the nature of his mind, more prone to believe in persons than principles, he was led by some that he loved or admired to wish to believe in the old religion; but then came in the wearied scepticism which he has painted in Pendennis^ too exhausted to distinguish between substance and accident, between the eternal truths which the new convert must necessarily accept, and the extraneous remnants of ancestral tradition which old believers naturally cling to, without having the right to impose them on the proselyte. No, he seems to say, truth is truth ; a chain is no stronger than its weakest link; a system is not more true than the most extraneous doctrine which it allows and encourages. If St. Francis's cloak-boat founders, St. Peter's bark is wrecked too. In relation to the Infinite, both are alike, and it is mean- ness to note the difference. Hence he contracted a great and increasing dislike for the Catholic system, upon which he stuck all the aberrations of casuists, all the impossibilities of legends, all the false opinions of extravagant theologians, all the political insincerities and crimes of plotters and conspirators for rehgious ends. The result was to turn our creed into a monstrous in- credibility, which he very properly refused to accept. But while he was thus unfair to the system, he took care to paint portraits of its profcssoi's for which Catholics owe him some gratitude. He says that among them alone can real devotion be found, or real interest in doctrine for its own sake be met with. The por- trait of old Madame do Florae is as good and true as any Catholic could have painted; and its effect is enhanced by a compari- son with her pendants, Lady Walham and Lady Jane Crawley.
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Father Holt, witli all liis absurd plots, is a mncli more reput- able figure than the Tushers, Sampsons, Honeymans, and Hunts, who represent the clergy of his own communion. With his usual luck, his liking went one way and his judgment another. Those who consider his philosophical judgment stronger than his insight into character will do well to constitute him a new wit- ness for Protestantism.
We end as we began ; on whichever side we look at Thacke- ray, we see that his great characteristic was the manifestation of soul. Every thing in him was subservient to this great object of his life and art. Yet, with all this consistency, a thorough want of unity is every where noticeable. He divided his soul from his reason, and his reason against itself. His soul, numerically one, set about its task of self-manifestation in all simplicity and purity. Yet, rejecting the primacy of reason, it could arrive at no fixed criterion, no unassailable principles of judgment. It is weakly attracted by other souls; it clings to persons, to friends, to any one who says a kind word, does a kind deed, smiles or laughs or weeps w^th it. Hence it is at the mercy of impostors and pretenders, believing every man till it finds him out, and then believing him in nothing; exhibiting first an impetuous credu- lity that accepts the heresy for love of the heretic, and then an obstinate unbelief that rejects the truth out of disgust for the orthodox offender; walking through the world as a chameleon, borrowing its tints from the colours which surround it, from the hues which happen to be in the air, without possessing any sove- reign principle which enables it to choose what is true, and to reject what is false and unreasonable.
But throughout these changes Thackeray in the main pre- served his ethical uprightness, and kept his heart pure. Though, under the influence of the muscular school of religion, he in his later days showed a tendency to excuse little wrongs done to secure great rights, his lessons in other respects were all on the side of virtue. He never wrote what could raise a blush on the most modest face. He ever loathed such geniuses as Ptous- seau or Richardson, who could paint so accurately the struggles and woes of Eloise and Clarissa, and the wicked arts and triumphs of Lovelace. Like Chiron, he was a master of our school of gentlemen, the inventor of a music to charm our ears, of a medi- cine to heal some of our lighter wounds. Like Chiron, too, he was great, but not complete — a union of discords not harmonised by any triumphant, dominant note. The fantasia he played to us was brilliant and various, pathetic and comic by turns. The figure he displayed to us was a noble one, full of strength, and refined as far as art could polish it. But still —
** Stat duplex, nuUo completus corpore, Chiron."
[ 512 ]
INDIAN EPIC POETKY.i
The comparison of the forms which epic poetry has developed in different ages and countries, while it reveals their various individual characteristics, yet leads us to the conclusion that there are certain general features which will be found when- ever and wherever such poetry arises. All these general cha- racteristics may be stated in the one proposition that the epic, rightly so called, is essentially popular, the work of unlearned men for unlearned men. Its birth and home is amongst the lower orders, as is or was the case with the Servian ballads, the Finnish runes, the Danish and Swedish popular lays, and the songs of the Faero islanders ; or else, it is essentially the poetry of a warlike aristocracy, intended for their praise and amuse- ment, which is the case of the Chanson de Roland and the Old Norse Eddaic songs. As war was in olden times more or less the occupation of at least every free-born man, it is sometimes difficult to say whether the epic songs celebrating its exploits are more especially the property of the people at large or of their noble chieftains. Instances of this difficulty are fur- nished by the German Nibelungen, the Romances of the Cid, and the Iliad. But one thing is quite certain. The poets, whether they belong to the lower ranks or to the aristocracy, are, like their audience, unlettered men, better able to wield the sword, or maybe in some instances the implements of agriculture, than the pen.
Hence it folloA7s that all genuine epic poetry is at its begin- ning composed in the popular language, and handed down by oral tradition. Afterwards, when it has been written down, it may become the object of more or less artificial and learned imitation ; and then it may make use of an antiquated form of speech; nay, occasionally even of a foreign language, as is done in many medieval epics, based on popular tradition, but written in Latin.
Poetry can only be listened to in the intervals of serious activity. Such moments of repose are necessarily short. Festi- vities and banquets are not every-day occurrences ; and even when they arrive, but a small part of their 'duration can be occupied in listening to the minstrel. Necessarily, therefore, the poems recited must be short, as the time as well as the patience of the hearers would soon be exhausted. The ballad
' Le Mahubhurata^ traduit completement pour la premiere fois du Sanscrit en franoais par H. Fauche. Vol. I. Paris, 1863.
Indian Epic Poetry, 513
is consequently the natural and original form of all epic poetry. Wherever in modern times we have been able, so to speak, to lay hold on the epic in the act of its generation, we have invariably found short poems, which might be easily connected with larger wholes, but which, as a matter of fact, have not been so connected. Witness the Scandinavian and Servian songs, and the Finnish Kalevala, which has been constructed by the Swedish editors out of a number of small pieces ; and Mac- pherson's ingenious forgery must give way before the genuine Ossianic poetry, as contained, for instance, in the Book of Lis- more, and consisting of course of short pieces. It stands to reason, therefore, that the Eddaic songs about Sigurd present a more original form of the Teutonic epic than the long contin- uous poem of the !Nibelungen, and that the Poema del Cid is founded on short romances about the Spanish hero, similar to those that we still possess. In the same manner, we should be justified in concluding that the Iliad must have been preceded by short ballads on Achilles and the siege of Troy, and that the same would hold good of the Chanson de Roland, even if traces of the existence of such shorter poems had not been pointed out, in the former case by Lachmann, and in the latter by Fauriel. We need scarcely remark that, when such popular songs are once in existence, it may be possible, even perhaps toitkout the help of writing, for a poetical genius to plan and execute a composition on a larger scale, — a so-called epos. Such a poem may^ of course, hold every possible relation to the old ballads, from merely stringing them together, as in the case of the Kalevala, to such an almost complete unity as the Odyssey seems to present; and when once constructed, by whatever means, it will call forth naturally other works of a similar cha- racter. What we must insist upon is only this — that the origin of all these long works is invariably to be traced to short ballads.
The characteristics we have ascribed to epic poetry imply that in the vast majority of cases it would only originate and thrive in a semi-civilised society. Such a society is almost always habitually engaged in warfare. Hence epic poetry is, as a rule, extremely warlike, the only notable exception being presented by the Finnish Kalevala, the peculiarity of which in this respect is to be accounted for by the position of the nation, the Swedish rule having forced the Finns long ago to abandon war and take to peaceful occupations.
If we now turn to the two great works which are for us the representatives of the achievements of the Hindus in this de- partment of literature, namely, the Mahabharata and Rama- yana, we shall be struck at first sight with the remarkable con-
514 Indian Epic Poetry.
trast they present to the epic characteristics laid down above. For nearly the only point in which these Indian productions would seem to agree with the European epics is their strongly warlike spirit. A great battle between the Kauravas and Pan- davas, two mythical races of kings, forms the centre of the Mahabhrirata ; and the subject of the Rrimayana is the war of Kama against a superhuman monster, Ravana. We shall pre- sently have to limit our assertion, and shall point out that, in- timately blended with the heroic enthusiasm, there is in these great poems a spirit of piety and religiousness which shows that other besides warlike influences have been at work in the creation of them. But in spite of these other currents of thought and feeling, the stir and activity of military life is visible every w^here and decidedly paramount. Even the gods act in a martial way. Not only do they provide their favourite heroes with celestial weapons, but Indra [Zeus], for instance, is busily engaged in fighting the demons, and S'iva encounters Arjuna in the shape of a mountaineer. The Brahmans them- selves share this fierce spirit. Paras'urama {i. e. the Rama of the hatchet), a descendant of the holy sage Bhrigu, and son of the hermit Jamadagni, is a good example of this. The king Arjuna had been received hospitably by Jamadagni ; but in return for this goodness he had carried off the calf of the sage's sacrificial car. Paras'urama, incensed at this injustice towards his father, slays Arjuna, and Arjuna's sons in turn kill Jama- dagni, whereupon Paras'urfmia vows and executes severe ven- geance on all the Kshattriya (warrior) caste. 2 " Having greatly and piteously lamented his father in manifold wise, he of great penance performed for him all the sacrificial ceremonies ; Rama, the conqueror of the towns of his foes, burned his father in fire ; and he promised to destroy the whole caste of warriors. Full of anger and of strength, the powerful hero having taken his weapon, killed all the sons of Arjuna, like unto the god of death. And the Kshattriyas who were their followers, them also Rama crushed all, he the best of champions : twenty-seven times emptying the earth of all Kshattriyas, he, the lord, made five lakes of blood in Samanta-panchaka. And then by a great sacrifice the son of Jamadagni satiated the gods, and gave the earth to the officiating priests. Thus there arose enmity between him and the Kshattriyas dwelling in the world, and thus the earth also was conquered by Rama of unmeasured splendour."
Strange deeds these certainly for a member of the Brah- manic caste, and the son of a holy anchorite ; and we may well maintain that epic poetry Avhich attributes such deeds even to 2 Mahabharata, b. iv. 20100.
Indian Epic Poetry, 515
priests is intensely warlike. But, on the other hand, this story of Paras'ununa (who, hy the bye, is entirely diiFerent from the hero of the Ramayana) evidently is intended to teach a severe lesson to the men of the military caste ; inasmuch as it records the fearful vengeance which an injured Brahman can bring upon his enemies.
And this leads us to the second peculiarity of the Indian epic, namely, its religious, or, to speak more correctly, priestly and hierarchical character. Every where the duties of religion, sacrifices, respect for the Brahmans, &c. are inculcated in it, and its heroes — at least most of them — are as eminent for their piety as for their bravery. In the episode of Savitri, which forms part of the third book of the Mahabharata, the character of Satyavat, who is the husband of the princess just named, and is evidently intended as a paragon of all possible excellences, is thus described by Narada, the divine messenger :^ " He is like Vivas vat [the sun] shining, equal to Vrihaspati [the priest of the gods] in wisdom, like the great Indra a hero, like the earth patient, in benevolence like unto Ratidevathe offspring of San- krita, by his own accord, pious, speaking the truth, as S'ivi the king of Us'inara, as the magnanimous Yayati of friendly aspect, like one of the two As'vins [Dioscuri] in beauty, is the strong- son of Dyumatsena. He is a self-conquering and mild hero ; he is truthful, holding his senses in subjection. He is amiable, not given to discontent, modest, and resolute; and for ever there is in him justice and unwavering firmness. Thus is he described by the sages rich in penance and virtue.'' Narada goes on to state that, but for the circumstance of his being destined to an early death, there would be indeed no fault in this excellent young hero. It is true this is only an ideal ; but some of the great personages of the Indian epic, such as Rama and Yudhi- shthira, the latter one of the heroes of the Mahabharata, present similar features, as far as they can be made consistent with their warlike exploits. That such ideals of character, as well as that of the avenger Paras'urama, were conceived by Brahmans there can be no doubt After this, it is not surprising that the In- dian epic should have long didactic passages, chiefly intended to inculcate the peculiar Brahmanical philosophy, and due obe- dience of the other castes to the priests. Nor shall we feel much astonishment when we hear that the Mahabharata is ac- tually looked upon as a religious book, and that it is described in the introduction in the following manner :* " The twice- born,'^ who knows the four Vedas, with the Vedangas and
w
3 in. 16672. * i. G45.
* By " twice-born" are meant the three upper castes, as receiving their second spiritual birth by the study of scripture.
VOL. IV. m m
516 Indian Epic Poetry.
Upanishads,^ but does not know this story, cannot be a wise man. From the sin which a Brahman commits during the day, through the action of the senses, he is free if he recites the Mahabharata at evening twilight ; from the sin which he com- mits in the night by act^ thought, or deed, he is freed if he recites the Mahabharata in the morning." Similar promises abound throughout the work. Thus, at the end of the episode of the deluge, it is said that whoever is a constant hearer of it " he will go to heaven in happiness with all his wishes fulfilled." No wonder that the Mahabharata should claim for itself equal authority with the Vedic writings :" " The wise man Avho re- cites this poem, and those who hear it, reaching the station of Brahma, obtain similitude with the gods. For it is united with the Yedas, and the highest means of purification. In it the way to riches and pleasure is entirely propounded, and the highest wisdom is in this very holy epic. If a wise man recites before noble, liberal, truthful, and believing men this Veda of Krishna [name of the author, otherwise Vyasa], he shall enjoy riches. Even from the guilt of the murder of an unborn child a man is released hearing this epic, even though he be a fearful sinner.'"
How entirely the peculiar religious notions of the Brah- mans are blended with the idea of epic poetry, is clearly seen from an amusing attempt at translating the beginning of the Iliad into Sanskrit, which is to be found in the Journal of the German Oriental Society.^ It was composed by a learned Hindu at the request of a European scholar, and runs thus : " "Why has the noble son of Paliyas, Akhil- lisa, engaged in meditation, formerly uttered a curse against the Akhayas, he the proud sage, saying : All of you shall meet your end in battle, you wicked ones. These bodies of yours shall be the food of jackals, dogs, and birds, and your souls shall depart to the nether world.'' In spite of the names, few of us would have recognised the fierce son of Thetis in this disguise, using curses instead of Aveapons. But nothing could be more truly Indian ; and the Hindu poems abound in stories of miraculous vengeance inflicted on evil- doers by the mere word of a holy anchorite. It is certain, then, that, however much the Kshattriya caste contributed to the Mahabharata and Ramayana, the Brahmans have had a great deal to do with their composition. If, therefore, the Mahabha- rata states of itself that it was composed by Vydsa, a son of the
« These constitute (with the Brahmanas) the scripture of the Hindus, the Vedas themselves being collections of hymns, the Vedi'mgas works illustrating them, and the Upanishads philo.sophical treatises.
' i. 2299. 8 vi. 108.
Indian Epic Poetry. . 517
sage Paras'jira, and first recited by the Brahman Vais'ampayana, we may take this, upon the whole, as a fair representation of the part played by the priestly caste in originating the epics. The groundwork must undoubtedly have been due to the min- strels of the warrior caste ; but it has been overlaid and to a great extent intrinsically altered by Brahmanic additions and modi- fications. In so far as this has been the case, the originally popular and warlike character has been obscured, and other features have been substituted which separate the Indian epic from the similar productions of other nations.
As with the spirit, so it is with the form of these Indian poems. "What more striking contrast could be conceived than that between a short ballad and the bulky volumes which go by the name of the Mahabharata ? The Sanskrit text of these, without a single note, occupies four large closely-printed quartos ; and M. Fauche, the French translator, informs us in his preface that he hopes to finish the translation of the entire work in sixteen volumes, of which the only one yet published contains 599 pages octavo of closely-printed matter. According to a statement in the Introduction of the Mahabharata itself,^ the work contains 100,000 s'lokas or double verses, counting all the episodes, but only 24,000 without them ; that is, even in this latter shape it would be more than twice as long as the Iliad, whilst in its integrity it would have ten times the bulk of the Greek poem, — an estimate which is rather under than above the truth. Similarly the Ramayana occupies in Gorresio's edi- tion five large octavo volumes. It seems, indeed, as if the Hindus in their literary productions wished to rival the dimen- sions of the gigantic nature by which they are surrounded. Under these circumstances, it is natural that the range of sub- jects, especially in the Mahabharata, should be almost unlimited. The poem itself boasts of the fact.^^ " This is a treatise on riches, this is the great treatise on law, this is the treatise on love, spoken by the Vyasa of unmeasured wisdom. There is no tale on earth unless it be derived from this poem, as there is no support of the body unless derived from food. On this poem the best poets exist, as the worshippers desiring success exist on the favour of Is' vara [S'iva].''
These statements are perfectly true. The whole legendary history of India is to be found in the Mahabharata. The very story of Rama, which is the subject of the second great epic, occurs with numberless other episodes in the third book.^^ The well-known poem of " Nala and Damayanti" is but an episode of the same book. Another is the " Bhagavadgita/' a long ex- position of the Yaga philosophy, in the sixth book.^^ j^ ^g jj^_
» i. 100. '» i. 646. »' 15873. ^^ 33q^
518 Indian Epic Poetry,
troduced in the strangest possible manner. Arjuna, being ready- to figbt, is suddenly struck by the thought that his adversaries are his relations, and that therefore he ought to spare them. Krishna, his charioteer, takes this occasion to expound to him the doctrine of the eternity and unity of all spirits, their inde- structibility, and their identity and final absorption into the divine spirit, of which he (Krishna) declares himself the special incarnation. This philosophical disquisition takes place on the chariot, in view of the battle-field, where the armies are already in action. Arjuna, being satisfied at last that his enemies are as eternal and in substance the same as himself, then goes for- ward into the battle. Any thing more utterly at variance with probability and epic usages than this lecture, in the midst of the din of a battle, could scarcely be conceived ; whilst the subject-matter of the episode, however beautifully treated, is equally foreign to the genius of epic poetry. Nor is this an isolated case, for in the twelfth book w^e have three long didactic treatises in verse, — the " Raja-dharma, or duty of kings," the •• A'pad-dharma, or rules of conduct in misfortune,'' and the " Moksha-dharma, or rules for obtaining release from finite existence.''
The Mahabharata may therefore fitly be described as a kind of encyclopaedia of mythology and philosophy, consisting of numberless poems, strung together by, and interwoven with, the story of a battle between the Kurus and Pandus. That such a production is to the highest degree artificial, and the work of the learned, in this case of the Brahmans, needs no proof.
An equally remarkable characteristic of the Hindu epic is the use of a language different from that of the nation at large. The inscriptions of king As'oka, the object of which was the spread of Buddhism, were addressed to the people ; and from this fact, and from the circumstance that these inscriptions are not written in Sanskrit, but in different kinds of Pali (a lan- guage derived from Sanskrit in the same way as Italian is from Latin), we must conclude that in As'oka's time {i.e. 250 B.C.) Sanskrit w*as a dead language. Now it can easily be proved that both the Mahabharata and Ramayana are, in their present form at least, much younger than As'oka. This results from the mention in both of them of nations with which the Hindus could only have become acquainted long after Alexander (330). The Greeks themselves are frequently mentioned, under the name of Yavana. This word is derived from the Greek name of the lonians, "Iwi/e?, ^Id{f)ove<;, and was used at an early period throughout Western Asia as the name of the Hellenic nation (Hebrew Yavan^ old Persian Yauna). Tlie theory }>ro- pounded by Lassen, that it sometimes signifies other nations,
Indian Epic Poetry, 519
— Arabs, Chaldeans, &c. — seems to rest on no foundation A^hat- ever. A king of the Yavana is mentioned as taking part in the great assembly of princes that were suitors for the hand of the heroine of the Mahabharata;^^ and in the decisive battle there appears on the side of the Kurus king Sudakshina of Kamboja (a region in the Penjab), together with the Yavanas and S'akas.^* These and similar passages evidently prove that at the time when the leading story of the great epic — for they occur in the body of the poem, not in episodes only — received its present form, the Hindus were perfectly familiar with the name of the Greeks, and regarded them as sufficiently near to themselves to take part in feasts and battles occurring in India. Such a view could of course only arise after Alexander, when the Greek kings of Syria, Bactria, and the Penjab, made them- selves known and felt as powerful rulers. Lassen, indeed, as- sumes that some account of the heroic battles of Thermopylas, Salami's, and Plata3a, might have reached India ; but we must not forget that although to us, who look back upon and are conscious of their vast consequences, these events appear all- important, they would not present that appearance to the con- temporary Asiatic nations. A local defeat of the Persian arms, which left the Persian empire as a whole intact and pov/erful, is not likely to have spread the name and renown of a little tribe on the shores of the ^gean as far as India. We have, however, still more positive proof that the Yavanas mentioned by the Mahabharata are the successors of Alexander, in a pass- age of the first book :^^ "The prince ofSauvirawas killed by Arjuna. He whom even the mighty Pandu could not conquer, that king of the Yavanas was conquered by Arjuna. The prince of Sauvira, Vitula by name, very strong, and always defiant against the Kurus, was killed by the wise Partha [= Arjuna]. Arjuna overcame with his arroAVS the Sauvira prince. Sumitra, desirous of battle, known by the name Datta- mitra, accompanied by Bhimasena, and with one chariot Arjuna conquered ten thousand chariots and all the western tribes." From this passage it results that there is in the poet's mind an intimate connection between the Sauvira (a people near the Indus) and the Yavanas, if indeed, they are not absolutely the same. One prince of these united Sauvira- Yavanas is called Sumitra, otherwise Dattamitra, and has been identified by Lassen with the Greek king Demetrius of Bactria, whose reign began at about 200 b.c., and who afterwards made great con- quests in the Penjab. This conjecture is confirmed by the fact that the scholiast of Panini knows a locality Dattamitri (a), of which the inhabitants are called Dattamitriya ; and a Pali in-
« i. 7020. '^ vi. 590. '^ 5534.
520 Indian Epic Poetry,
scription lately found calls these Datamitiyaka Yonaka,^^ — the Greeks of Dattamitra. Evidently Demetrius, like other Greek kings in Asia, founded a city called after himself He is not the only Greek king mentioned in the Mahabharata. In the second book^^ one of the heroes is told by Krishna : " The lord of the Yavanas who rules Muru [Marwar] and Naraka, a king of infinite strength, holding the west, like Varuna, he the powerful monarch Bhagadatta, is an old friend of thy father's." Bhagadatta, " given by Bhaga" (the sun), seems to be a transla- tion of 'A'TroW6hoTo<^, " given by Apollo," the name of one of the Greek Penjab kings about 160 b.c. It is clear that some time must have elapsed before these historical monarchs could become so mixed up with the ancient mythological tales of the Hindus. In one of the passages quoted above, the S'akas occur along with the Greeks as taking part in the great battle. They are frequently mentioned, and especially with the Tukharas or Tusharas, who fought beside them and the Greeks in the great battle.^^ They are the nomadic tribes called by the Greeks Sacae and Tocharge, who were originally the inhabitants of the plains beyond the laxartes, but who overran Iran about 130 B.C., and afterwards also invaded the west of Hindostan. It is possible that the Hindus might have known these tribes when they still inhabited the northern plains ; but when they appear as taking part in the battle fought in the midst of India, the most natural supposition is that there had been wars between them and the Hindus, which could only have happened after 130 b.c. "We have most probably a trace of the Romans in the twelfth book,^y where S'iva causes a fear- ful being, called Virabhadra, to come forth out of his mouth. " Virabhadra sends forth from the pores of his body [roma- kupebhyo] the Baumyas, the lords of hosts. These hosts were like Rudra, terrible, of terrible strength.'' Ruma, indeed, is a district not far from Ajmer ; but it is not likely that the inha- bitants of this insignificant spot should be intended rather than the great conquerors of the west, whose country is otherwise known to the Hindus as Romaka.^^ In an episode of the Ma- habharata^^ we find even mentioned along with Yavanas and S'akas another nomadic tribe, the Hunas, evidently the white Huns, who in the course of the fifth century of our era devas- tated Persia and, it appears, also part of India. It is scarcely probable, though barely possible, that they should have come under the notice of the Hindus before that time, seeing that the Greeks and Romans, who were much better acquainted
'6 See Weber, Indische Studten, v. 150.
" V. 578. '8 ^i_ 3297. 19 10304.
*° Journal of the Asiatic Society of Great Britain^ xx. p. 383. " i. 6685.
hidian Epic Poetry » 521
Avitli Turan than the Indians, never mention them. Be that, however, as it may, sufficient reasons have been adduced to prove that the Mahabharata, such as we have it, is considerably- younger than king As'oka (250), and therefore belongs to a period when Sanskrit had long ceased to be a spoken language.
The same must be said of the Raihayana. The references, indeed, to foreign nations and recent events are more rare in it ; but this is easily explained by the fact that southern India was the scene of Rama's wars, so that there was less occasion to mention events happening on the outskirts. Nevertheless the Yavanas and S'akas appear in connection with each other (S'akan Yavanamis'ritan, "Y. mixed with S/'), as powerful nations ;*' and lest it should be objected that this passage stands in an episode, they appear again in the fourth book^^ and apparently in the immediate neighbourhood of India, if not in India; for they are placed between the Gandahra (Penjab) and the Odra (Orissa). That at least the Greeks would not be thus introduced before Alexander, we have shown above, and a confirmation is afibrded by the fact that the town Demetriea, founded by Demetrius of Bactria, is mentioned also,^* in the form Dandamitra, an evident corruption of the older form Dattamitra. These facts are sufficient to show that the Ramd- yana, like the Mahabharata, received its present form at a time when Sanskrit was extinct.
To sum up our preceding remarks, we may say that the epics of India, though, on the one hand, they are not lacking in the warlike spirit so characteristic of this kind of poetry, are_, on the other hand, artificial creations, of immense bulk, of a strongly sacerdotal character, and written, in part at least, in a language no longer spoken by the nation.
The question now presents itself: How is this state of mat- ters to be explained ; and what means have we of tracing the origin of these vast compositions to the simpler songs which, unless the analogy of all other epic poetry is entirely mislead- ing, must certainly have preceded them.
In comparing the epic poems with the oldest monument of Indian literature, the Rigveda, we find great differences be- tween the tAvo. Already the language of the epics is much more modern, having exchanged many of the ancient words
221.55,20. 23 44^13.
2^ iv. 4320. Gorresio, following, it would appear, the majority of Mss., puts here in the text "strinam s'okavahan sthanan dattam Indrena xushyat^.," which he translates by " la sede dolente che Indra irato assegno alle donne ;" but in his note he confesses that he knows nothing further about this limbo of ladies. The reading of codex G, rejected by him, is evidently more ancient, '*the country of the women (Amazons), the country of the Pahlavas, Dand&,- mitra, and Arundhati ;" although we do not know what the latter word is to .mean here, as it generally signifies one of the lunar constellations.
522 Indian Epic Poetry,
for new ones ; it is poorer in forms, more regular, and although, upon the whole, simple enough, yet more polished than that of the ancient hymns. The Rigveda, except in the tenth book, does not yet seem to know the institution of castes, which is frequently mentioned in the epics, and gives them much of their peculiar colour and character. Most of the hymns ap- pear to have been composed in the Penjab, whereas in the Mahiibhrirata and Ramriyana the scene is the middle or even the south of India. The whole social state represented in the Rigveda is very simple ; and its warriors, *' desirous of cows," battling about them with each other, and invoking their gods to bestow them, present a strange contrast to the Brahmans and anchorites of the epics, fighting by words and curses ra- ther than weapons, engaged in superhuman efforts after holi- ness, and lost in the mazes of pantheistic speculation. It is true that instances of the peculiar Indian philosophy appear in the tenth book of the Rigsan'hitri ; but in general the religion of the hymns is very simple, a worship of the shining gods of heaven, of the bright fire, of the healing waters, — accompanied by a dread of the powers of darkness and evil. Of the three gods most commonly invoked in the hymns, one, Mitra, seems to be altogether forgotten in the epics ; and if Agni, the god of fire, and Indra, the thunderer, are still most zealously wor- shipped in the epic times, yet their character is in many re- spects altered, and a race of new gods has arisen above them. Brahmfi, "the grandfather of the world/' the creator, has grown from the Brahmanas-pati, "lord of prayer, '■' of the Rigveda, who does not occupy any very high position, into a universal power over all gods. Vishnu, of whom Krishna in the Mahabha- arata, and Rama in the Ramayana, are incarnations, is indeed mentioned several times in the hymns, but it is as a minor deity, while S'iva's name does not even occur. Yet in the epic these three dominate and are more powerful than Indra, who of old was the supreme chieftain of the gods. These and many other differences show that there is a wide gap between the Vedic times and the epics.
Nevertheless, as might be expected, connecting links are not wanting. The Indian nation was, after all, the same people in both periods; and the traditions and facts of the Rigveda, although altered and even disfigured, frequently reappear in the epic. We will give a few instances of this. One of the most important points in the Vedic mythology is the combat of Indra, the god of thunder, with the demon Vritra (the con- cealer) or Ahi (the serpent, Lat. anguis). It is the subject of a magnificent hymn in the first book of the Rigveda (32) : — " I will praise the exploits of Indra, which the bearer of the
Indian Epic Poetry, 52S
thunderbolt achieved of old. He killed Ahi, he brought out the waters, he opened the quick torrents of the mountains. He killed Ahi that lay before the mountain ; Tvashtri (the divine artist) made for him his praiseworthy thunderbolt ; like lowing cows the waters ran quickly flowing towards the ocean. When thou, 0 Indra, didst slay the first-born of the Ahis, then didst thou destroy verily the charms of the charmers, then bringing forth the sun, the sky, thou surely didst not meet an adversary. Indra killed the Vritra of Vitras, he broke his shoulders by the thunderbolt with a mighty blow; like stems broken by the
hatchet, thus lies Ahi upon the ground As he lies there,
like a river poured out, the delightful Avaters pass over him ; Ahi fell down at the feet of the waters which with might he had imprisoned. The mother of Vritra has fallen, Indra inflicted [the blow of] his weapon on her from below. Above was the mother ; beneath, the son ; the demon lies, as the cow with her calf," &c. Vritra is here represented as a demon withholding the rain from the earth, and thereby enveloping the sun and the sky in darkness, the mountains being apparently intended for the clouds. The killing of this demon is described as an old exploit of the god ; but at the same time it Avas only the " first-born of Ahis" that was thus killed. This circumstance, and the frequent use of the present tense, show that the poet was still quite conscious of the original meaning of the myth, and that in any thunderstorm passing before his own eyes he recog- nised the old battle fought over again. In the following episode from the Mahabharata, this consciousness is entirely lost, and the destruction of Vritra appears as a single isolated fact in Indra' s life. The tale is besides full of strange incidents, very different from the noble simplicity of the hymn just quoted. •' There were," it says,^^ " in the first age of the world fearful Danavas (Titans), longing for battle, Kalakeya by name, most terrible hosts. They, gathering round Vritra, uplifting many kinds of weapons, assailed from all sides the gods, and Indra their chief. Then the gods were bent on the destruction of Vritra, and with Indra at their head they went to Brahma. When the supreme lord saw them standing all with their hands folded, he spoke to them : I know, 0 ye gods, what is your errand. I will give you a counsel, whereby ye shall kill Vritra. There is a great sage, by name Dadhicha, of noble dis- position. To him go ye all in a body and ask for a boon; he of virtuous mind will grant it with delighted soul. Him you must address all in a body, if you wish for victory : ' Grive us your bones for the welfare of three worlds.' He, laying down his body, will give you his bones.'^ This strange counsel is car-
25 iii. 8660.
^jHH^
524) Indian Epic Poetry.
ried out. The gods find Dadhicha in lils retreat in the wood resounding with the humming of bees and the song of the cuckoo, where buffaloes, boars, and deer live, unscathed by the tigers. The sage, " shining brightly like the bringer of day,'' grants the request of the gods, dies of his own accord, and Tvashtri (Vulcan) makes of his bones the thunderbolt. *' Then Indra, holding the thunderbolt, protected by the strong gods, attacked Yritra, who stood covering heaven and earth, pro- tected on all sides by the Kalakeya of large body, with their arms uplifted, like unto mountains with their peaks. Then there arose a great combat of the gods with the demons at a moment striking the universe with fear. Of swords flashing, swung, and struck against each other by the arms of the heroes, there was a tumultuous sound as they fell upon the bodies ; and the earth was covered with heads falling from the sky, as with palm-fruits broken from their stalk. The Kaleyas, with golden armour, with clubs as weapons, poured down upon the gods like mountains the forests of which are on fire. As these powerful demons rushed onward in their arrogance, the gods could not withstand their strength, but overcome by fear they ran away. When the thousand-eyed destroyer of cities saw them flying, and Vritra gaining strength, he felt great anxiety. Por a time the god Indra was shaken by fear ; but quickly he addressed himself to Vishnu for protection. When the eternal Vishnu saw Indra filled with anxiety, he put his own strength into him, increasing his vigour. Thereupon the hosts of the gods, beholding Indra preserved by Vishnu, put all their own power into him, and so did the Brahma-sages. Indra restored by Vishnu, the gods and the blissful sages arose powerful. But Vritra, knowing that the lord of the gods stood before him in strength, sent forth loud roars, and by his roar the earth and the regions, and the air, and the sky, and the whole ether were shaken. Then the mighty Indra, in great confusion hearing his loud and fearful howl, overwhelmed with fear, cast his thun- derbolt to kill him. And struck by Indra's thunderbolt the great Titan, wearing a golden garland, fell as formerly Man- dara, the best of high mountains escaping from the hand of Vishnu. Thereupon, when the lord of Titans was killed, Indra full of fear ran on to hide himself in the sea ; through fear he did not think of his thunderbolt, which had slipped from his hand, nor of the dead Vritra. And all gods were glad, and all the sages in their joy praised Indra, and rapidly having approached the Titans, they killed them all, who were confused by the death of Vritra."
The reader will observe in this epic version the prominent part borne by the pious sages and by Vishnu, the magical
Indian Epic Poetry, 525
power ascribed to religious devotion, and the absence of any indication that Vritra was originally a serpent. This combat of the god of thunder and celestial light with the dragon is one of the oldest mythological ideas of the Indo-germans. We find an echo of it in the Persian Shah-nahmeh, Avhere Feridun is said to have overcome Zohak [=Zend Aji ddhaka, destroying serpent, Ahi], on whose shoulders grew serpents, and to have confined him in the volcanic mountain Demavend. Here also the ad- versary has become a mere demon, his animal form being only hinted at. But the Greek hymn on Apollo still relates how the shining archer-god killed the terrible serpent Python ; and the Hy'miskvidha of the Edda represents the thunderer Thorr struggling with the great sea-snake that surrounds the habit- able earth like a girdle. One may almost assert that the latter two poems have remained more true to the spirit of the Vedic poem quoted above, though the names are altered and the scene shifted, than the epic poetry of the Hindus. There is more manly vigour, and less fantastic glamour in these two European songs. The Norwegian Thorr, rowing on the icebound northern ocean "at the end of the heavens," and by means of his angling hook, baited with the head of an ox, drawing up the snake from the abyss of the sea, and lustily beating its skull with his ham- mer-— this northern god is the brother of the Vedic Indra far more truly than the epic namesake of the latter.
The killing of the demon-serpent belongs to the divine mythology of the Indo-germanic races. But we know full well that there must also have been heroic tales anterior to their separation into individual nations. One of the oldest of these is the tradition of Manu or Manus, i.e. "the man" (lit. "the thinker"), the mythical ancestor of the human race. He was known to the ancient Germani under the form Manna.^^ In the Vedic hymns he is called Father Manu, and represented as the ancestor of the Hindus, and even of the whole human race,27 as the kindler of the sacrificial fire, and as the ordainer of holy rites. In the later Vedic times, represented to us by the ritual compositions in prose v/hich are called Brahmanas, Manu has become connected with the story of the deluge, which is not mentioned in the hymns, and which is, perhaps, not indigenous in India. The story is thus told in the S'ata-patha-brahmana r^^ " To Manu they brought in the morning water to wash. As they bring it with their hands for the washing, a fish comes into the hands of Manu as soon as he has washed himself He spoke to Manu the word, ' Keep me ; I shall preserve thee.'
*^ Tacitus, Germ. c. i. Tacitus of course latinises the name to Mannus. ^ See an article on Manu by Dr. J. Muir, in the Journal of the Boyal Asiatic Society, xx. pp. 406 sqq. ^^ i. 8, 1. 1.
526 Indian Epic Poetry,
Manu said, ' From what wilt thou preserve me ?' The fish said,
* The flood will carry away all these creatures. I shall preserve thee from it/ * How canst thou be kept V said Manu. The fish replied, ' As long as we are small, there is much destruction for us ; fish swallows fish. First, then, thou must keep me in a jar. If I outgrow it, dig a hole, and keep me in it. If I outgrow this, take me to the sea, and I shall be saved from destruction.' He soon became a large fish. He said to Mimu,
* When I am full-grown, in the same year the flood will come. Build a ship then, and worship me ; and when the flood rises, go into the ship, and I shall preserve thee from it.' Manu brought the fish to the sea, after he had preserved him thus. And in the year which the fish had pointed out, Manu had built a ship, and worshipped the fish. Then when the flood had risen, he went into the ship. The fish came swimming to him, and Manu fastened the rope of the ship to a horn of the fish. The fish carried him by it over the northern mountain. The fish said, ^ I have preserved thee. Bind the ship to a tree. May the water not cut thee asunder while thou art on the mountain. As the water will sink, thou wilt slide down.' Manu slid down with the water; and this is called the slope of Manu on the northern mountain. The flood had carried away all these creatures, and thus Manu was left there alone. He went along meditating a hymn, and wishing for ofi'spring. And he sacrificed there also. Taking clarified butter, coagulated milk, whey and curds, he made an ofi'ering to the waters. In a year a woman was brought forth from it. . . .She went ofi", and came to Manu. Manu said to her, ' Who art thou V She said, ' I am thy daughter.' . . . Manu went along with her, meditating a hymn, and wishing for ofi'spring ; and by her he begat this offspring which is called the offspring of Manu."-^
This is sufl[iciently strange, and one sees indeed, at a glance, that so fantastical a story is later than the time oif the hymns. Nevertheless it is sober prose if compared with the account in the Mahabharata."'^ The episode of the fish (Matsyopkhjanam, as it is called) begins by stating how Manu practised severe austeri- ties for ten thousand years, uplifting his arms, standing on one foot, his head hanging downward, and his eyes always open. He then goes to the banks of the river Virini, and a small fish there implores him to save it from large rapacious ones. Manu, in compliance with this request, puts it into an urn. But it soon begins to grow. Manu, on its request, puts it into a great lake; then, as it still increases in bulk, into the Ganga; and as even this becomes too narrow for it, Manu ultimately carries it
=5 See Professor Max Miiller's History of Sanskrit Literature, p. 425. » iii. 12748.
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oiF to the sea. The text assures us that during all this time •■' the fish, though very great, could be lifted according to will by ^[anu, who, as he carried it, was enjoying the pleasures of its touch and smell." The fish then tells him that a general deluge is at hand^ and advises him to build a ship, to put all the seeds of living beings in it, and go upon it himself with the seven (mythical) sages. Manu follows this advice ; and when swimming in his ship on the flood, he begins to think of the fish, which consequently appears with a horn upon its head, round which Manu fastens a rope. " And bound by this rope the fish dragged onward the ship in the water with mighty strength, carrying them over the ocean, as it were, with its waves dancing and its waters roaring. The ship, tossed about by the mighty winds on the main, shook like a drunken woman ; ndther earth nor the regions were visible ; all was water, air, and sky.'' After " many hosts of years" the fish brings them to the highest peak of the Himalaya, to which the ship is fastened, and which therefore is called !N^au-bandhana [i. e. binding of the ship). The fish then reveals his true nature. " ' I am the lord of the creatures, than whom there is no higher one. In the form of a fish you are delivered by me from this danger. And Manu miist C7'eate all beings together, gods, demons, and men, and all the luorlds, the moveable and the im- moveahle. And through severe 'penance shall he have confidence; by my favour he shall not be confused in the creating of beings.' Having thus spoken, the fish disappeared in a moment." This supremely wonderful transaction is fitly concluded by Manu, after he has gained the necessary power through his self-casti- gation, creating (not, as Europeans would expect, and as the older tale has it, engendering) all creatures.
The two preceding examples of Vedic stories turned into epic ones belong to mythology; but also historical personages, men- tioned in the Vedic hymns, have been transformed into heroes of epic legend. One of the most remarkable instances of this kind is furnished by Vis'vamitra and Vasishta. Professor Eoth has proved,^^ from the hymns that have reference to them, that Vis'vamitra was at one time the purohita or family priest of king Sudas, a mighty ruler near the Yamuna ; that in all pro- bability Vis'vamitra was driven from this position by Vasishta and Vasishta's family; and that afterwards Sudas, aided by the prayer of the Vasishtas, gained a great victory over ten united tribes in the Penjab, amongst which were the Bharata, the tribe of Vis'vamitra. There is nothing extraordinary in a king's ex- changing one chaplain for another ; and only the great power and renown of the two priests and their respective families can
3' In his essay Zur Litteratur und Gcschichte der Vedas, p. 87.
52S Indian Epic Poetry.
have pven this quarrel any particular significance. It seems that Vis'vamitra, having fallen into disfavour with the king, caused his tribe to take part in the war against Sudas. When, however, the Bharatas came to the river Hyphasis (Vipas'), they had some difficulty in crossing it. On this occasion Vis'vami- tra composed the following hymn, one of the most beautiful specimens of Yedic poetry :^- " From out the slopes of the mountains, full of longing, like two mares set free, vying with each other in the race, like two shining cows to the fondling of their young ones, thus run Vipas' and S'utrudri with their waters. Sent by Indra, fulfilling his order (?), ye go towards the ocean, like warriors on their chariot, uniting your waves together, swelling, one meeting the other, ye clear streams. I have come to my maternal river, to the broad, blissful Vipas' ; we have come to both the streams that go to their common ^oal like cows licking their calves. ' With our swelling waters we go to the place appointed by the gods. Our purpose of flowing is never changed. What does the sage desire who so fervently invokes the rivers?' 'Rejoice at my friendly voice, ye streams, [pause] for a moment in your courses. To the river I pray, Kaus'ika's son, seeking help, with great fervour.^ ' Indra has dug our beds, armed with the thunderbolt ; he killed Vritra, who had gathered up the streams. Savitri, the god with beau- tiful hands, led us forward ; by his command we go in broad channels. For ever praiseworthy is this heroic deed of Indra, that he slew Ahi. Those that surrounded the floods he slew them with the thunderbolt ; then flowed the waters, desirous of flowing. Do not, 0 poet, forget this word, whatsoever later times may tell thee ; be friendly, 0 bard, to us in thy songs ; do not slander us. Amongst men be praise to thee.' ' Listen, ye two sisters, to the poet ; he has come from afar with his chariot. Lower yourselves well ; become easy to cross ; re- main beneath the axletree with your floods.' ' We will listen, 0 poet, to thy words. From afar hast thou come with thy chariot. I shall bend down for thee, as a suckling woman [to the child] ; I shall embrace thee as a maiden the man.' ' When the Bharatas shall have crossed, the host ready for battle, hastening, moved by Indra, then your ordered course may flow onward. I choose your favour [or praise?], who are worthy of sacrifices. The warlike Bharatas crossed over ; the sage en- joyed the favour of the streams. May ye swell, giving food and riches ; fill your beds ; go quickly."
We have given this hymn nearly in its entirety, not because it throws any additional light on the subject of the enmity between Vis'vdmitra and Vasishta, but because its beautiful
3= Rigveda, iii. 3, 4.
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simplicity oiFers a strong contrast to tlie fantastic legends of the epos. The quarrel of the two sages forms the subject of a renowned episode in the Ramayana.^^ King VisVamitra, who is here represented as belonging to the warrior caste, having reigned ten thousand years, came once upon a time to the her- mitage of the lioly Brahman Vasishta. This latter possessed a wonderful cow, Kamaduh {i. e. milking the wishes), or S'abala (variegated) ; and to honour his royal guest, he ordered her to bring forth superabundance of good cheer. Accordingly the cow produces " sugar-canes, honeycombs, fried grains, and the good liquor of the lythrum, excellent drinks, and manifold viands, mountain-like heaps of things to be sucked and to be eaten, choice food, cakes, and streams of milk, vessels full of mani- fold sweet and well-tasting liquors here and there, and spirits of molasses of a thousand kinds. The whole army of Vis'va- mitra was highly pleased, the men delighted and satiated, having been entertained by Vasishta/' Yis'vamitra evinces a natural wish to possess so wonderful a treasure ; but the sage refuses to part with it, even though Yis'vamitra promises him in return a koti (10,000,000) of cows. Hereupon the king takes the cow by force. She, however, makes her way back to her master, and advises him to make use of her miraculous powers for his and her protection. On his command she by degrees brings forth Pahlavas, S'akas, Yavanas, and other powerful hosts, which destroy Yis'vamitra's army and his sons. Yis vamitra thereupon practises a course of austerities, until S'iva appears to him and grants him the weapons of gods and demons. By these he destroys Yasishta's hermitage ; but fur- ther mischief is prevented by Yasishta, who overcomes all his enemy's missiles by only using his staif. Yis'vamitra there- upon comes to the conclusion that the power of a Kshattriya is nothing in comparison with that of a Brahman, and con- sequently begins a new course of penance, through which he ultimately succeeds in obtaining the quality of a Brahman, Brahma himself with all the gods descending to announce to him his new dignity. Of the many incidents in Yis'vamitra's long self-castigation we shall only mention one, on account of its passing strangeness. King Tris'anku having taken it into his head that he would rise with his body alive to heaven, asks Yasishta to help him in the offerings necessary for this pur- pose. Yasishta refuses, and so do Yasishta's sons, who even by their curse turn Tris'anku into a Paria. The king thus baffled applies to Yis'vamitra, who receives him kindly, and forthwith begins a sacrifice for him. But the gods do not make their appearance at it. So Yis'vamitra, in his anger, ** i. 52, 13. AVe quote, in general, Gorresio's edition.
530 Indian Epic Poetry.
" swinging the sacrificial ladle, spoke to Tris'anku, ' Behold, 0 king of men, the power of my penance. I here will carry thee to heaven quickly with thy own body. 0 Tris'anku, go to the sky with thy own body, lord of men. By the power of all the penance stored up by me since childhood, by the power of that penance, go thou to the sky with thy body/ When this word had been spoken by the hermit, that king with his body rose up into the air and to the heaven before the eyes of the hermits. When the slayer of Paka (Indra) saw Tris'anku entering heaven, he spoke with all the hosts of the gods this word : ' Tris'anku, fall on the ground ; there is no place for thee in heaven, thou hast been struck by the curse of thy preceptor [meaning Vasishta] ; fall Avith thy head downwards/ Thus addressed by the great Indra, Tris'anku fell from the sky, and he cried, with his head downward to- wards Yis'vamitra, ' Help me.' Having heard this word of him, falling from the sky, Vis'vamitra, in high anger, spoke, ' Stay, stay/ Then, by the power of his Brahma-penance, like unto a second creator, he created in the south another group of seven sages [this is the Sanskrit name for the Great Bear], and another row of lunar constellations [twenty -eight in number, — a kind of lunar zodiac], he began to create in the southern region of the heavens by the confidence in the power of his Brahma-penance. And having created the host of lunar constellations, with his eyes flaming with anger, he began to create new gods with a (new) Indra as their chief." Naturally enough, the gods — only the lower ones, or devas, are here meant — are frightened at this prospect. They come to terms therefore with Vis'vfimitra ; he is to give up his design, but what he has achieved is to remain unaltered. " These stars shall stand outside the way of the sun ;^* and this Tris'anku shall stand with his head downward contented in the southern sky, shining in his own splendour." There is clearly some astronomical fact alluded to in this story, which goes a little to mitigate its extravagance ; but what a vast diiference be- tween the Vis'vamitra of the legends and the poet of the Rigveda !
We have adduced sufficient examples to enable our readers to see, on the one hand, the connection between the oldest Indian literature and the epics, and, on the other hand, the vast distance which separates them. To sum up, the ultimate origin of the epics is to be sought in oral traditions, some of them dating from times when*the Indo-germanic nations had not yet separated, others from the time of the hymns ; to these were
^ The word ai/ogdni, which follows, is obscure. Gorresio translates, " CBsenti da congiunzione coUa luna." Schlegel's recension has anekani, •• several."
Indian Epic Poetry. 531
added, no doubt, many memories of the centuries that must have elapsed from the composition of the hymns to Alexander and As'oka, — centuries of which, for us, the later Vedic writings are the representatives. Lastly, even the exploits of the Greeks and other western nations have added a little, though very little indeed, to the epic stores. But the first trace of epic tales existing as an acknowledged form of literature, we find in the 15th book of the Atharvaveda, which, however, bears more the character of a Brahmana.*^^ There we hear of certain com- positions, called Itihasa (story, etymologically iti ha ctsa "thus it was"), Purana (old legends), Gatha (song), Naras'ansi (praise of men). The same names are frequently mentioned in the Brail m an as'^^ and Aranyakas. Epic tales are evidently in- tended by the two first words in these passages, as the Ma- habharata^^ applies both expressions to itself. Yet the ancient Itihasas were no doubt tales in prose, like the story of Manu, quoted before. On the nature of the two other kinds of com- position light is thrown by an interesting passage in the S'ata- patha-brahmana.^^ At the preparation of the great horse sacri- fice, '• lute-players are assembled. Then the Adhvary v [priest] addresses them : * Lute-players, praise ye him who sacrifices, together with the old pious kings.^ They do thus. — A lute- player belonging to the warrior-caste [rajanya], turning to the south, sings three strophes [gdtha] made by himself, the con- tents of which are, ' he fought,' ' he won that battle.' " This passage shows that amongst the warrior-caste there arose, at an early period, the habit of composing short songs in praise of pious and gallant princes, both of olden times and of their own. These gathas were metrical, whilst the itihasas were in prose. From the fusion of these two kinds of literature, we apprehend, arose epic ballads properly so called, in verse, like the short gathas, but more extensive, like the itihasas. The subject-matter Avas taken, as shown before, partly from old religious traditions, partly from the exploits of later heroes and kings. The origin of the more warlike songs is undoubt- edly to be sought amongst the Kshattriya caste, as the passage from the S'ata-patha-brahmana testifies ; and that this caste continued for a long time to determine to a great extent the development of epic literature, is evident from the heroic en- thusiasm that is clearly perceivable in the battle-scenes of the Mahabharata. But, of course, the Brahmans must soon have taken part also in this new kind of literature, which they
3' Atharv. xv. 6,
3« For instance, S'ata-patha-br^hmana, xi. 5, 6, 9 : compare Miiller, Ancient Sanskrit Literature, p. 40.
3^ i. 17, 19. 38 xiii. 4, 3, 3. 5.
VOL. IV. n n
532 Indian Epic Poetry.
ultimately succeeded in colouring so deeply with their own particular views. The name for a bard who recites epic tales is sitta, which at the same time means charioteer. The suta is described as the son of a woman of the priestly caste and of a Kshattriya father. Here we see clearly the intimate con- nection of the epic poetry with war ; and, on the other hand, the double influence that has been at work in the creation of the old ballads. The Mahabharata is said to be composed by the sage Vyasa, son of a Kshattriya woman ; it is first recited by the Brahman Vais'ampayana, before the king Janamejaya, when he is engaged in a great sacrifice of serpents. It is recited a second time before an assembly of Brahma-sages at a sacrifice in the forest Nemisha. The bard on this occasion is Ugras'ravas, who is styled Sauta, that is, descendant of Suta, a name for minstrel, as we said before. In the third book of the Mahabharata, Markandeya and other Brahmans visit the banished Pandu kings in their forest retreat, and tell them the tales of old. The Ramayana also was first made by the rishi Valmiki ; he then teaches it to two of his disciples, Kus'a and Lava, the sons of Rama, and therefore Kshattriyas, whose united name (Kus'i-lava) signifies bard ; and these go and sing it in the royal capitals before the kings, and also before Rama himself at his horse-sacrifice. From all these testimonies, mythical though they are, we conclude that epic poetry con- tinued to be chiefly cultivated amongst the warrior caste; that it celebrated, by preference, the heroes of that caste ; that many, probably most, of the poets and minstrels belonged to the Kshattriyas, or were allied by birth to them ; and that the songs were recited (not read) in their assemblies. We lay great stress on the last point. All testimonies, from the Brah- manas downwards, are unanimous in representing the epic songs as handed down by oral tradition. Hence, we may natu- rally infer that they were originally short. When and by whom greater poems were first indited, we have now no means of ascertaining. But the flourishing time of the epos must have been a period when Sanskrit was still spoken. For be- sides the analogy with other nations, which forces us to deny the possibility of any original epic poetry ever arising in a dead language, the forms of the Mahabharata and Ramdyana are very simple, if compared with the later medieval artificial Sanskrit, and show all the vigour, power, and flexibility which characterise a living speech.
In the history of the epic, special importance must be attached to the country Magadha (South Behar), for Mdgadha, literally a man from that region^ has come to mean minstrel. Magadha was, in Alexander's time, and for a century after-
k
Indian Epic Poetry. .533
"wards, tlie most powerful kingdom of India ; and if the Bud- dhistic traditions are trustworthy, it had been so for more than two hundred years before. The kings of this realm were very favourable to Buddhism ; and within its precincts the great missionary movement arose in the third century B.C. It seems that we must add to this merit the one of having pro- duced numerous epic poets. We shall not be very far wrong in assuming that epic poetry reached its highest development there in the fifth and fourth century, or perhaps earlier, certainly not later, because Sanskrit was already extinct in the third century, and that there were composed the spirited ballads on the battle of the Kurus and Pandus, which lie at the bottom of the Mahabharata. Perhaps at that time larger works may already have been attempted. But the arrangement of the whole mass of floating song in the shape of one bulky written poem, and the thorough recasting of the whole in accordance with the Brahmanical spirit, must be later still. Nor has even this been done at once. For the Mahabharata itself states that it has three different beginnings,"^^ in which Lassen rightly recognises three different recensions, probably following one another. The Indians have personified this last stage of development in the person of Vyasa, the mythical author of the Mahabharata. Vyasa is properly only a surname of Krishna Dvaipayana, and means "collector, redactor.'' We have already shown that additions continued to be made to the Mahabha- rata in the spirit of the ancient songs during the time of the Greek Penjab kings, and down to the fifth century a.d., but probably even later. For Weber states that an episode of the Mahabharata, on which S'ankara wrote a commentary in the se- venth century, had increased by six or seven stanzas up to the time of Nilakantha, that is, in six or seven centuries. As so many strata have covered, and no doubt partly destroyed, the original layer, it would be folly to attempt to cut out of the Maha- bharata the original small ballads, after Lachmann's fashion ; and even- Lassen's attempt to go back at least to the first of the three versions is not likely to be successful.
The Ramayana is a more compact poem. There are fewer epis- odes ; and as the two recensions which we have, — one from the north-west of India, the other from Bengal, — agree upon the whole, it is not unlikely that we have in it, with few altera- tions, the work of one man, who undertook to treat the story of Rama in the spirit of the ancient epic, which he must have known by study, as Panyasis or Callimachus studied and imi- tated Homer. The only difiiculty in this hypothesis is the power and originality displayed in the Ramayana, which seems
33 i. 51, 52,
534 Indian Epic Poetry.
too great for a mere learned poet. But perhaps these may be due to antecedent popular songs, which were only recast ; in which case, indeed, the so-called author would be also a kind of reviser.
Having now, as far as our scanty materials allow, ascer- tained the growth of the Indian epic, we proceed to give our readers a sketch of the leading stories in both the great poems.'*^
The Mahabharata, or Great Bharata, is most probably called so as recording the exploits of the race of Bharata, a mythical king, descended from Soma (the Moon). The ninth from him was Kuru, after whom the heroes of the Mahabharata, being his descendants, are called Kauravas or Kurus. Later in the line we find Vichitra-virya, who, however, dies childless, and leaves two widows, Ambika and Ambalika. By the sage Yyjisa, the mythical author of the Mahabharata, each of these has a son, Dhrita-rashtra {i. e. holder of the kingdom), who was born blind, and Pandu, so called on account of his pale complexion. They were brought up by their uncle Bhishma, in Hastinapura (near Delhi) ; and eventually Pandu became king, his elder brother being excluded on account of his blindness. Both took wives, Dhrita-rashtra choosing Gandhari, and Pandu being chosen at a svayam-vara"^^ by Pritha or Kunti. Pritha, before her mar- riage, had a son by the sun-god, who was born with a mail-coat. His mother being afraid of her relatives, although the sun-god had miraculously restored her maidenhood, exposed the child in the river, and he was found by a charioteer, Adiratha, who reared him as his own son. When Vasushena, as he was called by his foster parents, had grown up, the god Indra one day ap- peared to him in the shape of a Brahman, and asked him for his armour, which the pious hero gave away. Indra in return gave him strength over gods, men, and demons, and changed his name to Kama. Kama's story has some points in common with the Teutonic hero Sigfrid, who also, at least according to Viltina saga, was abandoned by his mother in the river, and like him was invulnerable, and after a life of heroism died an untimely death. Pandu afterwards took a second wife, Madri. Dhrita-rashtra had a hundred sons by Gandhari, of whom Dur- yodhana {i.e. bad in fight) was the eldest. Pandu, who had retired into the woods, leaving the throne to his blind brother, one day shot a pair of deer, male and female, which turned out
<" Cf. the analysis of them -which is given by Professor Monier Williams in his book on Indian Epic Poetry, p. 91.
^' A form of marriage in use amongst the Kshattriyas, according to which the reigning king convenes a large assembly of kings, and his daughter then chooses from amongst them at her own will.
Indian Epic Poetry. 5S5
to be a certain sage and liis wife, who had only taken the form of these animals. The sage cursed him, and predicted that he would die in the embraces of one of his wives. He conse- quently became a hermit, and kept apart from his two Avives. They, however, had sons by different gods. Pritha bore Yu- dishthira, whose father was Dharma. Dharma means law, and is another name of Yama, the Hindu Pluto. Accordingly the child became a highly virtuous prince, firm in battle, as his name implies, and at the same time not less pious, altogether realising the Hindu ideal of a chivalrous and dutiful king. Bhima, the second son of Pritha, Avas the child of the god Vayu (wind). He was of prodigious strength — when he fell acciden- tally as a child, he split a rock to pieces — and of savage bravery, doing justice to his name, which means terrible. Pritha's third son, by Indra, was Arjuna {i.e. white, shining). He is the chief hero of the Mahabharata, and is always under the special pro- tection of his divine father, whose wars against the demons he occasionally carries on instead of his parent. Madri had twins by the two As'vins (Dioscuri). They were called Nakula and Sahadeva, and were both great heroes. These five Pandus (Pan- davas), or sons of Pandu, as they are called oddly enough, are represented as thoroughly noble, whereas Dhrita-nishtra's sons, commonly called Kurus or Kauravas, although that name is applied also to Pandu's offspring, are described as mean and low-minded. Pcindu died while the five heroes were still chil- dren, having forgotten the curse laid upon him and embraced Pritha. With him Madri burned herself, as a faithful Hindu wife ought, and Pritha, who had disputed her this honour, returned with the five princes to Hastinapura. They were educated together Avith Dhrita-rashtra's children, and instructed in archery and Avarlike exercises by the Brahman Drona. When their education Avas completed, a great tournament Avas held, in order to try their skill, and Arjuna came off victorious, Avhen suddenly Kama entered " like a Avalking mountain." He challenged Arjuna to single combat, but, as the combatants Avere obliged to tell their names and pedigrees, Kama's face became "like a drooping lotus,^' and the fight did not take place. But Duryodhana, by making Kama king of Anga on the spot, engaged his good services for ever on his side against the Pandus. After various deeds of heroism by the five brothers, Yudishthira Avas installed by Dhrita-rashtra as heir-apparent ; and in consequence of the increased renoAvn of the Pandavas it came to pass that .the citizens of Hastinapura assembled and proposed to croAvn Yudishthira at once. Thereupon Duryo- dhana laid a plot against the life of his adversaries. He caused his father to send them aAvay on an excursion from the capital.
536 Indian Epic Poetry,
Meanwhile he sent a friend of his before them, to prepare a house for their reception, which he was to fill with hemp, resin, and other combustible materials, plastering the walls with mortar composed of oil, fat, and lac. This was to be set on fire, when the Pandavas would be asleep in it. In consequence of a Avarning, however, they escaped by an underground passage, having substituted for themselves a Pariah woman with her five sons ; and the house having been set on fire, they were ac- cordingly supposed to have perished in the flames. For a time they lived with a Brahman, putting on the disguise of men- dicant Brahmans.
Not long after, Draupadf or Krishna, the daughter of Dru- pada, king of the Panchalas, was about to hold her svayam- vara. She had been in a former life the daughter of a sage, and had performed severe penance in order to obtain a hus- band. The god S'iva, in consequence, appeared to her and promised her five husbands in an after-existence. She was thereupon born in Drupada's family, and destined to be the wife of the five Pandavas. The princes accordingly set out for Drupada's court. The king, who secretly wished to have Arjuna for his son-in-law, had devised a trial of strength for the wooers of his daughter, similar to the test adopted by Penelope. It consisted in hanging up on a moveable machine a mark, which was to be hit by a bow very difficult to bend. A kind of stage or arena was prepared for the competitors ; and, after due offerings by the royal purohita (chaplain), Draupadi was led forward by her brother Drishta-dyumna, who announced the object of the meeting " with a voice like a thunder-cloud.^' The effect of the sight of Draupadi seems to have been very marvellous."*^ '* Those youthful kings, adorned with earrings, vying with each other, sprang up, all of them, weapons in hand, contemplating in their mind arms and strength, having their pride kindled by their beauty, heroism, nobility, virtue, wealth, and youth, like princes of elephants from the Himalaya maddened by the power of passion. Look- ing towards each other with eager envy, having their limbs penetrated by desire, crying towards each other, ' Krishna is my oAvn !' they rose up suddenly from their seats. Those Kshattriyas going to the stage, having assembled through the wish of winning Draupadi, shone like the hosts of the gods surrounding Uma, the daughter of the king of mountains'' [S'iva's wife]. " Having their bodies afflicted by the arrows of Cupid, with their hearts drawn towards Krishnd, those lords of men, descending into the arena, proclaimed enmity, even (friends) towards friends, for the sake of Drupada's daughter.
■^ Mah. i. 7005.
Indian Epic Poetry. 537
Then came on their chariots the hosts of the gods, — Rudra their chief {i.e. S'iva), Indra, and the Dioscuri, and all the genii, and the winds, led by Yama and the Lord of riches, the Titans, the griffins,^^ the mighty serpents, and the elves and fairies." Many of the kings tried the bow, but were unsuccessful, being drawn down on their knees by its weight. At last Arjuna, still disguised as a Brahman, came forward, and stood^^ " beside the bow like a mountain not to be shaken." Having mentally invoked his divine father, Arjuna seized the bow, and " in the twinkling of an eye he had bent it, taken five arrows, and hit the mark, which, being well pierced, fell suddenly on the ground. Then there was a sound in the sky and a great noise in the assembly, and the god rained divine flowers on the head of Arjuna, the killer of enemies.'' Draupadi and her father joyfully accepted Arjuna, and were ultimately persuaded to have her married to all the five brothers, when Yyasa had acquainted them with Drau- padi's divine destination. The Pandavas having now revealed themselves, and become strengthened by their union with the king of Panchala, were received favourably by Dhrita-rashtra, who gave Hastinapura to his own sons, but allowed the five brothers to occupy a district near the Yamuna, where they built Indraprastha (near Delhi). Some time after, Arjuna, in liis wanderings, met with Krishna, a prince of the Yadu race, who always remained the truest friend and counsellor of the brothers. This was no small gain to them, as Krishna was an incarnation of Vishnu himself ^^ Arjuna marries also Krish- na's sister Subhadra, by whom he has a son, Abhimanyu, father of Parikshit, and grandfather of the Janamejaya, at whose great sacrifice the Mahabharata professes to have been first recited. After various exploits, Yudishthira wished to cele- brate his inauguration as king. But Krishna informed him that he could only do so when Jarasandha, king of Magadha, should be destroyed. This was a powerful monster, who held '*all kings''' in prison in his capital,^^ as "a lion, the king of the mountain,, keeps mighty elephants in his lair.'' However, he was ultimately conquered by Bhima. But the fight was terrible^^ " Jara- sandha, the conqueror of foes, advanced towards Bhima, mighty in splendour as the Titan Bala towards Indra. Then being
^ This is a free translation oi garuda, which signifies certain mythical birds.
44 i. 7049.
45 Professor Lassen thinks, however, that all passages in the Mahabharata implying Krishna's divinity, as well as the divinity of the hero of the Ramay^na, are in both poems later additions and do not belong to the original plan. That may be ; but, as we have already seen, we cannot hope to recover the original form of the Mah-^bharata.
46 Mah^b. ii. 627. 47 897.
538 Indian Epic Poetry,
4
protected by Krishna, having pronounced spells over him. the strong Bhimasena went onward to Jarasandha, longing for the fight ; and the two tigers of men with many weapons met each other, the strong heroes, in highest joy, desirous of con- quering each other. Pressing their hands together, yelling like elephants, thundering like clouds, both wielding many weapons, struck by each other's palms, face to face, like two enraged lions, they fought, dragging each other about. ... To see their fight, the citizens assembled — Brahmans, merchants, and warriors, in thousands, S'udras, women, and aged men altogether; the place was densely covered by crowds of men. As they met each other, striking with their arms, disen- tangling and again entangling them, their shock against each other was very fearful, as of two mountainlike thunderbolts. Both were fully rejoicing in their strength, the best of strong heroes, wishing each other's destruction, desirous of conquer- ing one another. This fearful combat disturbed and confused men, in the battle of these two strong ones, as of Vritra and Yasava. They dragged each other to and fro, backward and aside, and they hit each other with their knees. Then chid- ing one another with loud noise, they struck blows like the falling of rocks ; both broad-chested, having long arms, both skilled in pugilism, they fell upon each other with their arms, as with iron clubs. It was begun on the first day of the month Kartika, and lasted night and day, without their eat- ing food, without stopping. But on the fourteenth night the king of Maghada stopped through weariness." After a pause the fight was renewed, and Bhima broke the back of his ad- versary ; and "as he was trampled down, and the son of Pandu was roaring, the sound became tumultuous, causing fear to all living beings. All inhabitants of Magadha trembled through the noise of Bhimasena and Jarasandha. ' Is the Himalaya split ? is the earth torn asunder V Thus the people of Magadha thought because of the noise. Then leaving at the door of the royal race this king as in a sleep, but with life departed, the conquerors of foemen went away. Krishna, hav- ing ordered the standard-bearer to get ready Jarasandha's chariot, and caused the two brothers to ascend it, liberated the prisoners." They then went home to Indraprastha, and held the inauguration festival.
When the inauguration was over, Krishna returned to his own city. Soon after Duryodhana expressed to S'akuni his reso- lution to get rid of the Pandavas ; and S'akuni, who was skilful at playing with dice, prevailed upon Yudishthira to play with him. In this match Yudishthira lost all his territory, his riches, and at last even Draupadi. Nevertheless, the five Pan-
Indian Epic Poetry, 539
(lavas were to give up their kingdom only for twelve years, and were allowed to retire to the wood accompanied by their wife. In their-forest life they were visited by pious Brahmans and other friends, who consoled them with many stories. One of them is the well-known story of King Nala, who, like Yudi- shthira, lost his kingdom by gambling, and then in despair left his wife, but ultimately recovered both. Arjuna meanwhile en- gaged in a course of severe penance, to obtain his father's divine weapons, in order to secure victory over the Kurus. During the course of these austerities he had to fight Siva, who ap- peared to him in the shape of a wild mountaineer, Kirata, but ultimately revealed his true nature, and presented him with his own particular weapon Pas'upata (so called from Pasu-pati, i.e. lord of creatures, a surname of S'iva). After this Indra and the other guardian gods of the celestial regions presented Arjuna with other missiles ; and at last he was taken to the divine palace of Indra, who embraced him, and placed him be- side himself on his throne. At the end of the twelfth year the five brothers came forward from their retreat, and after some preparations, the Kurus and Pandus met each other in a great battle on the plain of Kuru-kshetra, north-Avest of Delhi, each of them assisted by their respective friends ; Drupada and Krishna, together with Balarama, Krishna's brother, being on the side of the Pandus, Avhilst Kama was the chief hero of the opposite party. The opening of the fight was accompanied by fearful prodigies — showers of blood fell, thunder was heard in a cloud- less sky, the moon looked like fire, asses were born from cows, &c. In the battle the heroes perform prodigies of valour. " Arjuna is described as killing five hundred warriors simul- taneously, covering the whole plain and filling the rivers with blood ; Yudishthira, as slaughtering a hundred men in a mere twinkle; Bhim^, as annihilating a monstrous elephant including all mounted upon it, and fourteen foot soldiers besides, with one blow of his club ; Nakula and Sahadeva, fighting from their chariots, as cutting off* heads by the thousand, and sowing them like seed on the ground."''^ The result of this prowess of the Pandus is the death of nearly all the leaders on the other side, Duryodhana and Kama included. The latter, after innu- merable deeds of valour, was slain by Arjuna. Their meeting is thus described -^^ " They went against each other amidst the sound of shells and drums, with white horses, the two ex- cellent men. As two elephants of the Himalaya inflamed with desire of a female, thus did they meet each other, the heroes of fearful valour, Arjuna and Kama. As cloud comes on cloud, as spontaneously a mountain on a mountain, thus did they
•*** Professor Monier Williams, 1. c. p. 27. ^' viii. 4513.
540 Ind^ian Epic Poetry.
meet each other amidst the noise of bows, strings, hands, and wheels, pouring forth a rain of arrows. As two peaks with high summits, full of trees, creeping plants and herbs, full of mighty and various cascades and dwellings, thus the two strong heroes unshaken struck one another with their mighty weapons. Their falling upon each other was powerful, as formerly that of the lord of the gods and Vairochana ; whilst their horses, their charioteers, and their own bodies, were hit by arrows, and others could not bear it, as the blood and water flowed. As two great lakes, inhabited by flocks of birds, with tortoises, fish, and expanded lotuses, but much disturbed and shaken by the wind, thus did the two chariots with their banners meet. Both were like in prowess to the great Indra, both were heroes to be compared to the great Indra; and with arrows like the thunderbolts of the great Indra they struck each other like Indra and Vritra. The two shining armies, composed of elephants, foot- soldiers, horses and chariots, wearing manifold armour, ornaments, clothes, and weapons, trembled at the wonderful fight of Arjuna and Kama, whose steeds w^ere bounding in the air. The joyous warriors lifted up their arms together with robes and hands shouting with lions' voice, desirous of seeing how Arjuna went against Kama, wishing to slay, like a mad elephant against an elephant. Then shouted the So- makas to Pritha's son : ' Advance, 0 Arjuna ; smite Kama, cut ofi" his head ; enough of hesitation.' Then also many of our warriors spoke to Kama, * Go on, go on, 0 Kama; kill Arjuna with sharp arrows. Again may the Pandus go for a long time to the wood.' " When at last Kama fell,^^ " his body, every where pierced by arrows, overflowed by streams of blood, shone like the sun with its own rays. Having burned the hostile army by the shining rays of his arrows, the sun of Kama had set before the strong Pluto, Arjuna." *
After the battle, Dhrita-nishtra acknowledged the right of his nephews ; and Yudishthira was consequently inaugurated king, while Bhima was associated with him as heir-apparent. The rest of the poem possesses little interest except for inci- dental episodes ; but the story is nevertheless carried on to the death of the heroes. Yudishthira and his brothers ultimately gave up their kingdom to Arjuna's grandson Parikshit, and set out on a journey towards Indra^s heaven on mount Meru, the mythical Olympus, lying in the north. Draupadi went with them, and also a dog. At last they reached Meru ; but one after the other they dropped down dead, until Yudishthira was left the sole survivor, still accompanied by the dog. Indra refused him admittance to his heaven, as no dogs can enter
5" vs. 4910.
Indian Epic Poetry, 541
there. But the dog revealed himself as Yudishthira's father Dharma, and they entered heaven together. There Yudish- thu'a found Duryodhana, but not his own brothers. He declined remaining in heaven without them, and was conducted by a divine messenger to Naraka (Tartarus), where he heard the cries of his brothers scorched by flames. He declared that he would share their fate, and sent away his divine attendant. But now Indra with the other gods appeared to inform him that all had been illusion ; and after having bathed in the Granga, he returned with them to the real heaven, where he met his brothers, and Krishna in all the splendour of his divine nature.
From the above abstract our readers will have seen to w^hat an extent the warlike character predominates in the poem, and also that it is deeply tinged with a devotional spirit. Into the episodes other elements enter largely, as we observed before. Thus the episode of Nala is a thoroughly sentimental love-story; but it is by this time so well known to English readers that w^e shall say no more about it. Similar in spirit is the episode of Savitri, a beautiful and virtuous princess, who by her faithful love, and at the same time by her theological learning, so touches Yama, the god of death, as to cause him to restore the life of her husband, whose soul he was in the act of carrying away.
The picture of the Mahabharata would be imperfect without alluding to the philosophical doctrines of some of the episodes, especially the renowned Bhagavadgita. The reasoning in this poem starts from the fundamental principle,^^ '^ there can be no existence of the non-existing ; there is no non- existence of that which exists.'' Consequently all things are of the substance of God, who, being incarnate in Krishna, describes himself in the following terms :^^ *' I am the origin and the dissolution of the whole world. There is nothing higher than I, 0 Arjuna. On me is all this universe fixed, as strings of pearls on a thread. I am taste in the waters, I am splendour in sun and moon, I am devotion in all scriptures, I am sound in the air, male power in men, I am pure fra- grance in the earth, I am the light of the giver of light, I am the life in all living, I am penance in ascetics. Know me to be the eternal seed of all creatures, the wisdom of the wise, the radiance of the radiant am I." The ethical consequences of this doctrine are as follows :^^ " He who sees me in all things, and all things in me, for him I am not lost, nor is he lost for me. He who worships me as existing in all beings, turning towards unity, in whatever way he acts, he acts united with me." " He who already in this life before the release from the body can overcome the power arising from desire and pas-
^» ii. 16. *2 vii. 6. 53 ^i. 30,
542 Indian Epic Poetry,
sion, lie is united (to me), he is happy. He who has pleasure, delight, and splendour in himself, he is united (with me), he, becoming Brahma, reaches the extinction in Brahma [the Ab- solute]. The extinction in Brahma is reached by sages whose sins are annihilated, who are freed from duality, have overcome themselves, and rejoice in the good of all beings. Those who are free from desire and passion, striving, with subdued minds, near unto them, versed in the knowledge of the soul, is the extinction in Brahma." ^^ It is this quietistic morality that has ultimately quenched the warlike spirit, still so clearly visible in the Mahabharata.
The question remains, what historical truth there is in the tradition of the great battle, or whether there is any. Lassen is of opinion that the Mahabharata records in a mythical form the shock sustained by the Aryan inhabitants of the inner Hindostan in consequence of a new influx of immigrants of the same race. He grounds this view chiefly on the name of Pandu, which means " white, pale," and on that of his son Arjuna, '^ white, shining,^' as the new stream of Aryans from the north-w^est would be naturally of lighter colour than those who had already dwelt in the country for a considerable time. Krishna the name of their chief counsellor, and Krishna that of their wife, meaning black, would imply, in Lassen's opinion, that the new-comers were aided by a part of the black abori- gines of Hindostan. In confirmation of such a theory one could adduce the fact of Draupadi's, Madri^s, and Pritha^s polyandry ; a custom entirely unknown to any Indo-germanic nations, but still practised by some of the northern tribes of India that are Tibetan by race. The fact, however, that the father of both Pandus and Kurus was also called Krishna seems altogether to overturn Lassen's theory. Besides, Prof. Weber has pointed out another, and far more likely, explana- tion of Arj Una's name. It appears as a surname of Indra, the shining god of the firmament, in the Veda; and nothing is more probable than that his son should be originally identical with him, as he actually takes his father's place in the fights with the demons. In this case, Arjuna, of course, never had any existence. It is strange that scarcely any of the chief per- sonages of the Mahabharata appear in any Vedic writing, except Krishna, who is mentioned, however, only as a human being, in the Yrihad-Aranyaka and Chandogya-upanisliad. This is not favourable to the historical character of the Mah^- bhdrata. In the White Yajurveda the Kurus and Panchalas appear as two tribes closely united ; and in the same way they are mentioned in the S'ata-patha-brahmana, which knows
*^ V. 23.
Indian Epic Foetry, 54'S
nothing of an internecine war between them.^^ On the other hand, the Brahmana in question aUudes to the destruction of Janamejaya, son of Parikshit, and of his brothers, Bhima-sena, Ugrasena, S'ruta-sena, with their whole race, as a recent and notorious event. This destruction of a kingly race, on which, however, we have no farther details, Weber considers to be the historical base of the tradition of the great battle with which a part of the myths referring to the god Indra was com- bined. If this be true, however, it is very strange that the Pandus, that is Janamejaya's own family, should be victorious in the great battle, and that moreover that battle should be described in the epic as having happened three generations before Janamejaya, and its history should be told to him. It seems to us impossible, in the absence of all historical testi- mony, to decide what were the actual facts on which the Maha- bharata may or may not be founded ; but Weber s suggestion with regard to Arjuna we unhesitatingly adopt as true.
On the Ramayana («. e. the exploits of Rama) we must be more brief Its hero is Rama, son of Das'aratha, king of Ayodhya (Oude), of the solar dynasty. Das'aratha had no son. Accordingly he undertook a great horse-sacrifice to procure offspring. The gods assembled to receive their share of the sacrifice, and promised Das'aratha a son. They applied, then, to Brahma, and represented to him that the world was in danger of being destroyed by the king of demons, Ravana, who could only be killed by a man, as he had obtained from Brahma, by severe penance, the boon of being invulnerable to divine beings. Vishnu accordingly promised to take the form of man. At the sacrifice of Das'aratha a supernatural being rose from the fire and offered a cup of nectar to the priest, which the queens of Das'aratha were to drink. It was unequally shared between them, and Kaus'alya, who got half of it, brought forth Rama, who consequently was possessed of half the nature of Vishnu. Sumitra having taken the fourth part bore Laksh- mana and S'atrughna, each containing an eighth part of Vishnu's essence ; lastly, Kaikeyi drank the remaining portion, and her son Bharata was endowed with a fourth part* of the nature of the god. All the brothers were great friends, and in the body of the poem they are treated as human beings, even Rama seldom appearing in his divine character, although he is a pattern of human heroism and piety. He married Sita, the daughter of king Janaka of Mithila (Tirhut), whom he won in a similar way to that in which Arjuna won Draupadi, by not only bending but even snapping a wonderful bow. Rama was to be installed by his father as successor to the throne, when
53 "Weber, Indische Litteraturgeschichte, pp. 131, 132.
544« Indian Epic Poetry,
Bharata's mother, jealous at the preference shown to the son of her rival, reminded the kin^r of a promise made in former years, that he would grant her two boons she might ask of him. She accordingly requested that Rdma should be banished, and Bharata installed in his stead. The king was obliged to com- ply ; but he soon afterwards died broken-hearted. Rama meekly submitted to his fate, restrained Lakshmana's anger, and declined Bharata's generous oifer to give the throne back to him. He then proceeded with his wife and Lakshmana into the forest of Dandaka, south of the Yamuna (Jumna).
Having learned that the holy hermits there were much mo- lested by Bakshasas (demons, Titans), he promised his assist- ance against them. One of them, S'urpa-nakha, the sister of Bavana, fell in love with Rama ; but he refused her, whereupon she caused two of her brothers to attack Rama and Lakshmana with an army of Rakshasas. They were, however, defeated. S'urpa-nakha consequently applied to Ravana himself, who was the demon-king of Lanka (Ceylon), a monster with ten faces, twenty arms, copper-coloured eyes, and white teeth like the young moon. At the instigation of his sister, Ravana fell in love with Sita, and determined to carry her off, with the help of another demon, Marieha. This latter one took the shape of a golden deer, for which Sita evinced so strong a desire, that Rama went to hunt it. Marieha, mortally wounded by the hero, uttered cries imitating Rama's voice, which so alarmed Sita that she sent Lakshmana to seek for him. Thus left alone, she was taken captive by Ravana, who carried her through the air to his city, but tried in vain to shake her faithfulness, against which neither the promise to make her his queen, nor the torments inflicted on her by female demons (Rakshasis), availed any thing. Rama and Lakshmana, in their search for the lost maiden, reached the dwelling of Sugriva (i. e. beautiful neck), king of the Monkeys, who had lost his capital, Kishkindha [in the Dekhan], in warfare with his bro- ther Bali. Rama reinstated the king of the Monkeys, who in return promised to help him in the recovery of Sitd. Sugriva, therefore, as soon as the rainy season was ended, sent divers armies of his monkeys in search of her. One of them, com- manded by Hanumat (large- jawed), succeeded in finding out the hiding-place of Sita. Hanumat even leaped across through the air to Ceylon, and had an interview with Sita, who refused to be carried on his back to Rama, because she could not, as a modest woman, touch any one but her husband. Hanumat, having been taken prisoner by Ravana's son, Indrajit, and having afterwards escaped, returned to his master with the intelligence of Sita's whereabouts. Thereupon R^ma and the
Indian Epic Poetry, 545
monkey-king marched southward, and were joined by Vibi- shana, Ravana's brother, who had in vain tried to dissuade his brother from resistance against Rama. Nala, the son of Vis'vakarman, that is of the architect of the gods, built a pier across to Ceylon, which is supposed still to exist in the reefs reaching from the continent to the island. By this the monkey armies passed over ; and, after much fighting, Ravana was at last killed by Rama in single combat. Sita, suspected of unfaithfulness, offered to submit to an ordeal. But whilst she was entering the flames, the gods appeared to bear witness to her purity, and Agni himself (the god of fire) deli- vered her up in safety to her husband. Rama, after having in- stalled Vibishana in the place of his demon brother, returned to Ayodhya with his wife, and henceforth occupied the throne which Bharata had kept for him meanwhile, but which he now vacated. The faithful Hanumat was rewarded by the gift of perpetual life and youth.
As our readers have already had specimens of the warlike style from the Mahabharata, we shall subjoin two passages from the Ramayana of a different character.
The first we take from the introduction.^^ It is the Hindu account of the invention of poetry by Valmiki, the mythical author of the poem : " Having heard this speech of Narada" (the messenger of the gods, who had commanded Valmiki to sing Rama's exploits), " Valmiki, learned in speech, with his disciples, felt great astonishment ; and in his mind the great sage reverenced Rama, and with his disciples he saluted Na- rada. Honoured by him, according to custom, Narada, the divine sage, having obtained permission, returned to the abode of the gods. As soon as Narada had gone to the world of the celestial, Valmiki, the best of sages, went to the banks of the Tamasa. The great sage approaching a holy bathing-place in the Tamasa, said to his disciple who stood by his side, observing it to be free from mud, * Behold ! 0 Bahradvaja, this bathing- place free from gravel, clear and quiet, like the mind of good men. This is a bathing-place still and agreeable, with good water, with soft sand ; at this place I will enter the waters of the Tamasa. Take thou my garment of bark, and come quickly back from my hermitage ; do it well, so that there may be no delay.' He quickly returning from the hermitage, according to the words of his master, brought the dress of bark to his master ; and having taken the dress from his disciple, put it on, plunged into the water, bathed, and having offered the fitting prayers in silence, and poured out libations to the Manes and the deities, he went looking about every where in the Tamasa
h
546 Indian Epic Poetry,
forest. Then he saw on the hanks of the Tamasd, walking ahout without fear, a couple of curlews, of beautiful aspect ; and a hunter, approaching unseen, shot one of this couple in the pre- sence of the sage. Seeing him in convulsions on the ground, with his limbs overflowed with blood, the female curlew, in her sorrow, lamented piteously, flying about in the air. When the sage, accompanied by his disciple, saAv this bird killed in the wood, there arose pity in his mind : then, through this feeling of pity, the best of the Brahmans, of just mind, perceiving the female curlew piteously crying, sang thus : * Never mayst thou, 0 hunter, find peace for eternal years ; because thou hast killed one of the pair of curlews that was intoxicated by love/ When he had spoken this word, he became at once thoughtful. ' What is this which I spoke pitying this bird V and having mused for a moment and considered this speech, he said to his disciple, Bharadvaja, v/ho stood by his side, ' This speech is bound in four feet of an equal number of syllables ; and because it was spoken by me in sorrow (s'ochata), therefore it shall be called verse (s'loka)/ ''
The next passage we will give describes the interview of Sita with her husband after her release from Havana :^^ " Thus addressed by Rama, Vibishana, full of impatience, led forward Sita into the presence of the noble-minded Rama. And having heard Rama's words with regard to Sita, all the dwellers in the wood and all his subjects, with Vibishana as their chief, looked towards each other : ' What will Rama do now ? His hidden anger is apparent ; it becomes visible by his looks/ Thus thinking, they all trembled seeing Rama's behaviour; they were frightened by his unusual looks ; apprehension arose within them. . . . And the Mithila maiden (Sita), with her body drooping through shame, went forAvard to her husband, followed by Vibishana. They saw her approaching as Venus in a bodily shape, like a divinity of Lanka, like Prabha, the wife of the sun-god. She, with Jier face wet with tears, ashamed in the assembly of men, stood, having approached her husband, as the beautiful S'ri [Venus] comes towards Vishnu. And also Rama, seeing her bearing divine beauty, though his mind was full of suspicion, did not speak to her for tears. Rama, with pale countenance, tossed about on an ocean of anger and love, had his eyes very red, but it pleased him to restrain his tears. Seeing her standing before himself, the godlike lady, over- whelmed in her mind by shame, deeply afilicted, lost in thought like one bereft of her lord, the maiden carried off* by the Rdkshasa through violence, afllicted by captivity, scarcely having preserved her life, as it were, returned from the world
*' vi. 99, 37.
Indian Epic Poetry. 547
of death, taken away by force from the empty hermitage, pure- minded, sinless, blameless, yet Rama did not speak to her. With her eyes full of tears, ashamed in the assembly of men, having approached her husband she wept, saying, ' 0 hero, son of noble men.' Hearing her wailing, the chieftains all wept, sorrow rising in them, having their eyes filled with tears. And covering his face with his garment, Lakshmana, full of affliction, made an effort to restrain his tears, resolved to remain firm. Then Sita of beautiful waist, perceiving the great change in her husband, stood before him conquering her shame. The beautiful maiden of Videha, conquering her sorrow, and rely- ing on her faithfulness, restraining her tears by her pure soul, presented various aspects caused by astonishment, joy, love, anger, and weariness, as she gazed on her husband."
We have already observed that we see no reason to re- gard the Ramayana as older than the Mahabharata. The very unity of the Ramayana leads to an opposite conclusion. Such large works only arise after epic poetry has run through many stages, and when the individual poet has a vast mass of previous songs to serve for his education. The comparative freedom of the Ramayana from allusions to foreign nations of later times, is easily explained by the fact that the exploits of its hero have the south of India for their scene. Besides, there are not wanting allusions to the Greek kings, and even later times. We cannot share, therefore, the naive assurance of Gorresio, who actually believes in Yalmiki's authorship. The only feature worth mentioning that might be adduced in favour of a very ancient period, is the circumstance that of Das'aratha's wives none burns herself with him ; a custom well known to Cicero, who probably got his knowledge from the historians of Alexander. But between a custom sometimes fol- lowed and a necessity always to be followed, there is some difference. That the suttee ever was a necessity it would be difficult to prove.
The historical basis of the Ramayana is considered by Lassen, with Avhom most competent scholars seem to agree, to be the remembrance of the fight between the civilised Aryans of Hindostan and the savage natives of Southern India. The monkeys who assisted Rama are in this view the representa- tives of that portion of the Dekhanic population that willingly fell in with the Brahminical life. We have very little faith in the distillation of history out of epic legends. The fact that the Dekhan was civilised by the Aryan Hindus rests happily on better evidence than that of the Ramayana, namely, on the nature of that civilisation itself The poem must be judged as a poem. For those, however, of our readers who have the
VOL. IV. 0 0
54*8 Indian Epic Poetry,
amiable weakness of wishin<]j the characters of fiction to be made as authentic and historical as possible, we may mention that the father at least of Sita, Janaka, king of Mithila or Videha, seems to be a historial person, for he is mentioned in the S'ata-patha-brahmana^^ as Janaka, king of the Kos'ala- Videha. The Kos'ala are in the Ramayana the people of his son-in-law, Kama.
The other epic poems of the Hindus are numerous. They consist first of the Puranas {i.e, old legends). These are ascribed to the same author as the Mahabharata, namely, Vdyasa. We pointed out before that certain Vedic writings mention compo- sitions of this name, but these compositions have nothing in common with the works now so called except the name. We have eighteen Puranas, but there were apparently at an earlier period only six, as the Bhagavata-Purana states^^ that Vayasa originally made six collections, which were communicated by him to Romaharshana or Lomaharshana, called Suta (bard), who taught them to six different disciples. From these Ugras'ravas, Romaharshana's son, also called Suta, learned in his turn the six collections. This Ugras'ravas is the same person as the bard who recited the Mahabharata for the second time. There seems to be nothing historical in all these traditions, except the former existence of six Puranas. This circumstance ex- plains why, in the eighteen which have come down to us, there is much sameness of matter, and why often whole portions are even identical in words. The language and style of the Pura- nas are, upon the whole, the same as those of the Mahabharata. As to their contents, they are a kind of mythological encyclo- pedias, to be compared with the Bibliotheca of Apollodorus, or, better still, with Hesiod's theogony, executed on a gigantic scale. Most of the Puranas have besides a sectarian object, to set forth the praise of some particular god, more especially of either S'iva, or Vishnu, and his various incarnations. The favourite deity of each Purana is accordingly represented as identical with Brahma or the Absolute. These vast compilations are of rather modern origin. The Vishnu-purana knows the Gupta kings, whose reign began at about 170 a.d.,^^ and apparently even the Mahometan invasions, which did not begin before the eighth century. No wonder, therefore, that in these late works the old warlike elements of the Mahabharata have be- come overgrown and almost entirely smothered by the reli-
« Weber, Ind. Litt. p. 130.
*' See Boumoufs edition of it, i. p. xxxvi.
«• Wilson (^Translation of the Vishnu-purana, p, Ixxii.) says that they reigned in the seventh century. But the above more correct date has since been as- certained from new monuments. Their reign extended indeed to the seventh century.
Indian Epic Poetry, 549
gious element. The exploits of the gods are described in the most hyperbolical phraseology, tiresome in the extreme to our European taste.
The Mahabharata is generally described in India as an itihasa (legend), whereas the Ramayana is called a kavya (poem). This latter name implies greater unity and indivi- duality. There are other kavyas besides the Ramayana, the authors of which are well known and real persons. Kalidasa himself wrote two, the Raghu-vans'a, or history of Rhagu's family, the race of Rama, and the Kumara-Sambhava, or birth of Kumara, the god of war. These, though more arti- ficial than the old epic, are still truly poetical works. But as time went on, the Hindu epic degenerated more and more. Such works as the Nalodaya, or history of Nala, a poem chiefly remarkable for playing with words and rhymes ; the Sls'upala- badha, i. e. death of Sisupala, with verses that may be read forwards and backwards, upwards and downwards ; the Bhatti- kavya, narrating the history of Rama so as'to exemplify in every canto particular grammatical forms, which is done by using, for instance, the same tense all through it; — such compositions as these are no more poetry than the Pugna Porcorum of our middle ages. The height of absurdity is reached by the Ra- ghava-Pandaviya, which is written in such a manner that one may read it, at will, as the history of Rama or of the sons of Pandu. Works like these only show the utter extinction of all epic spirit in their authors.
We have still to say a few words on the artistic peculiarities of the Indian epic. Our readers are in some measure able to form conclusions on the subject for themselves from the speci- mens with which we have interspersed the preceding pages. They will have remarked that there is really much poetical power in some of them ; and they will also have observed that the style has many points in common with the Greek. The extensive use of similes, the repetition of certain epic formulas, the constant application of what has not inappropriately been called epitheta ornantia, a general tendency to spread out the narrative and dwell on its details, are common to both. The likeness would appear still more striking if the similarity of the two languages in grammar could be conveyed by any transla- tion. The epic machinery of supernatural events also, and the close proximity and — so to speak — the terms of equality between gods and heroes, may be added to these general features. But we must nevertheless not forget the vast difference between the Iliad and the Mahabharata, and, let us frankly confess it, the inferiority of the Hindu epic. For, when the poetic litera- ture of India was discovered by Europeans, it was natural and
550 Indian Epic Poetry,
excusable — especially if we consider the marvellous expectations previously entertained regarding that country — that in the first joy of the discovery of noble poems in a quarter where nobody had looked for poetic power (but rather for primitive religion and philosophy), men should have indulged in exaggerated en- thusiasm. But it is time now, when we know India better, to recover our artistic sense, and return to the Greeks with in- creased and increasing admiration. Let us compare the Ma- habharata with the Iliad. Putting aside the loose form of the Indian poem, there remain other grave blemishes likely to jar on European feelings. The peculiar Brahminical morality and philosophy is a discordant element. This is not the place to pass a judgment on the intrinsic merit of these doctrines. Whatever may be thought of the Brahminical ideal of society, the philosophical development — say, for instance, in the Bha- gavad-Grita — is of no small power. Such a poem must for ever occupy a memorable place in the history of philosophy, beside Parmenides and the Stoics, beside Spinoza and Hegel. But it is equally certain that this philosophy of the '"' One and All" is not favourable to the simplicity and straightforwardness, the naive energy of epic poetry. In this sense — in this merely artistic sense, we repeat — Homer's heroes, simple as they are, savage if you like, are vastly superior, as poetical figures, to the warriors of the Mahabharata, who in the interval of their battles can reason high about God and man, fate and eternity. But this is not all. In the passage describing Kama's last combat with Arjuna our readers will have observed the super- abundance of similes ; and this excess of riches is a universal feature of the Indian epic. How would Homer have dealt with this profusion of images ? The answer is not difficult. Com- pare for a moment the introduction to the KaToXoyo^; vrjwVj describing in a series of similes the gathering of the Achajans and Trojans. Instead of heedlessly scattering about compari- sons with mountains and lotus-lakes, and lions and elephants, the Greek poet (or poets) would have dwelt on each of these ; depicted the lion, the elephant, the mountain, and the lotus- lake in all their peculiar features ; describing them, delighting in them, shaping them into clear images, and communicating his delight and his clear perception to his hearers. And not only the Greek poets would have dealt so with similes, but the older Indian poets also — we mean the authors of the Yedic songs — would have adopted a similar course. For the hymns we have laid before our readers above are, in the simplicity of their imagery, much more akin to the Iliad than to the Mahabharata. It is clear, therefore, that when the Aryans Lad reached the inner plain of Hindostan a change came
Lidian Epic Poetnj. 551
over them. The tropical sun, the strange scenery, the gigantic nature, displayed in the vast mountains of the north, as well as in the immense rivers of the south, the large palm-trees and huge creeping plants, the unheard-of beasts and birds, — all these together have influenced the Indian mind, driving it to excess, and at the same time lulling it into weary repose. Hence the fierce sensuaUty of their love-poems; hence, as the opposite side of the picture, their self-renouncing, self-despair- ing philosophy ; hence also their wild flights of fancy in the epic. We are crowded by similes, hurried from one to another, each splendid and glowing, but none remaining long enough before our minds to give us a clear picture. There are snowy mountains, wild jungles, streams with floating lotus-flowers, elephants and tigers roaming through impervious forests, rain and sunshine in fitful changes, sun and moon, night and morn- ing, gods and demons in combat ; but our eyes are dazzled by these shifting scenes, our minds grow weary, and in the midst of palms and lotuses we long for home, for a simple northern meadow, with a cloudy sky and scant glimpses of sunshine, with a few daisies instead of lotuses, and instead of mighty rivers a small brook murmuring through the grass. To speak more precisely : Hindu epic poetry deals lavishly with similes. When the youthful Pindar did the same, Corinna is said to have addressed him with these warning words : " Not with the sack [must you sow], but with the hand, 0 Pindar.'' The Greek poet profited by the lesson; but the Indians are con- stantly sowing with the sack.
The efiect of this superabundance of imagery is, in the first place, want of perspicuity. The mind cannot realise so many ideas at once. But the Hindus apparently count this want of clearness as a merit. When in the Iliad a god disappears, he flies away in the shape of a bird ; thus ofi'ering to the imagina- tion, in sjfite of the miracle, something to fasten upon. The Indian epic simply says that he disappears [antar-adhiyata], without giving the hearer any clue to his manner of doing it. Homer is moderate in his use of numbers ; in the Indian epic we are constantly told that this hero reigned for thousands of years, and that ascetic stood ten thousand years on one leg. All this shows the comparative absence of clearness, form, and measure. But the want of artistic shape and moderation, though it may at first sight seem to arise from superabundance of strength, ultimately results in weakness. In one passage^^ Arjuna is represented as using the terrible weapon of S'iva against the Titans, and scarcely was it shot when there ap- peared '•' thousandfold shapes of deers, of lions, tigers, bears,
^' Bopp, Arjuna-samdgama, x. 44,
552 Indian Epic Poetry.
buffaloes, snakes, cows, elephants, monkeys in heaps, bulls, boars, and cats, s'alas, wolves, ghosts, vultures, griffins, bees, trees, mountains, and oceans; gods, sages, and gandharvas, vampires, yakshas, and foes of the gods," &c. *' Of these, and many other beings of divers forms, this whole world was full, when that weapon had been shot ; and they had three heads, four tusks, four arms."
There is no doubt that the Indian poet means by the above description to represent the highest effort of superhuman strength. But now compare with this the passage of the Iliad,^ where Diomedes is said to have throAvn a stone at j£neas, " such as two men could not lift, as mortals now are, yet he threw it easily." How much less imposing is Diomedes than Arjuna ! how modest the imagination of the Greek poet com- pared with the flight the Hindu's mind has taken ! And yet on which side is the strength — on which is the weakness ? on which the beautiful — and on which the ridiculous?
It would be unjust, however, if, without qualification, we were to measure the poetical productions of the Hindu by the standard which we owe to the Greeks, and which we should never have possessed except for them. The Hindu epic, if not strictly faultless, has yet acted as a power creative of poetry on other nations. For not only are there translations of the two great poems in the modern languages of Hindostan, Bengali and Hindustani ; but also the Dekhanic people, when they be- came brahmanised, adopted the epic traditions of the Aryans, and reproduced them in their own language. Indeed, these tales were carried as far as Java by the Indian colonists. For in Kavi, the old literary language of that island, containing a large admixture of Sanskrit^ and formed under its influence, we find both a Brata-Yudda (Mahabharata) and a Rama-kavi (Ramayana). It is gratifying to dwell on these facts, which indisputably show that the Aryan-Hindus, in spite of their shortcomings, were yet, in epic poetry as well as in other things, a civilised and civilising nation.
62 V. 302.
[ 553 ]
ASCETICISM AMONGST MAHOMETAN" NATIONS.
[Communicated.]
The celebrated Egyptian ascetic Dhou-el-Noun, in the third century of the Hejirah, relates the following story of his spi- ritual teacher Schakran, in whose person he speaks : " When I was young, I lived on the eastern bank of the Nile, near Cairo, and gained my livelihood by ferrying passengers across to tlie western side. One day, as I was sitting in my boat near the river- shore, about noon, an aged man presented himself be- fore me; he wore a tattered robe, a staff was in his hand, and a water-skin suspended to his neck. ' Will you ferry me over for the love of God ?' said he. I answered, ' Yes.' ' And will you fulfil my commission for the love of God ?' ' Yes/ Accordingly I rowed him across to the western side. On alighting from the boat, he pointed to a solitary tree some distance ojff, and said to me, ' Now go your way, and do not trouble yourself further about me till to-morrow ; nor indeed will it be in your power even should you desire it, for as soon as I have left you, you will at once forget me. But to-morrow, at this same hour of noon, you will sud- denly call me to mind ; then go to that tree which you see before you ; I shall be lying dead in its shade. Say the customary prayers over my corpse, and bury me ; then take my robe, my statf, and the water-skin, and return with them to the other side of the river ; there deliver them to him who shall first ask them of you : this is my commission.' Having said this, he immediately departed. I looked after him, but soon lost sight of him, and then, as he had himself already forewarned me, I utterly forgot him. But next day, at the approach of noon, I suddenly remembered the event, and hastily crossing the river alone, I came to the western bank, and then made straight for the tree. In its shade I found him stretched out at full length, with a calm and smiling face, but dead. I recited over him the customary prayers, and buried him in the sand at the foot of the tree ; then I took the garment, the water-skin, and the staff, and returned to my boat. Arrived at the eastern side, I found standing on the shore to meet me a young man, whom I knew as a most dissolute fellow of the town, a hired musician by profession. He was gaudily dressed, his countenance bore the traces of recent debauch, and his fingers were stained with henna. ' Give me the bequest,' said he. Amazed at such a demand from such a character, ' And what bequest ?' I answered. ' The staff, the water-skin, and the gar- ment,' was his reply. Hereon I drew them, though unwillingly, from the bottom of the boat where I had concealed them, and
554f Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations.
gave them to him. He at once stripped off his gay clothes, put on the tattered robe, hung the water-skin round his neck, took the staff in his hand, and turned to depart. I, however, caught hold of him, and exclaimed, ^ For God's sake, ere you go tell me the meaning of this, and how this bequest has become yours, such as I know you.' ' By no merit of my own certainly,' answered he. 'But I passed last night at a wedding feast, with many boon companions, in singing, drinking deep, and mad debauch. As the night wore away and morning drew near, tired out with pleasure and heavy with wine, I lay down on the ground to sleep. Then in my sleep one stood by me, and said, * God has at this very hour taken to Himself the soul of the ascetic such- a-one, and has chosen you to fill his place on earth. Rise, and go to the river-bank ; there you will meet a ferryman in his boat ; demand from him the bequest; he will give you a garment, a staff, and a water-skin ; take them, and live as their first owner lived/ Such was his story; he then bade me farewell, and went his way. But I wept bitterly over my own loss, in that I had not been chosen in his place as successor to the dead saint, and thought that such a favour would have been more worthily be- stowed on me than on him. But that same night, as I slept, I heard a voice saying to me, ' Schakran, is it grief to thee that I have called an erring servant of mine to repentance ? The favour is my free gift, and I bestow such on whom I will, nor yet do I forget those who seek me/ I awoke from sleep, and repented of my impatient ambition.'' And so he concludes his narrative with some verses of Arab poetry,, which we will here render as best we may :
" The true lover seeks no self-advantage from his beloved ; All choice on thy part, 0 lover, is treason in love ; ah, didst thou but
understand it aright ! Should He please to raise thee in His favour, it is His mere gift and
graciousness. Or should He keep thee at a distance, thou hast no right to complain. Nay, if thou fiudest not thy pleasure even in His seeming coldness
towards thee, Give up thy rank among lovers, that place is not for thee. Ah, my God, if indeed love has rendered Thee Lord of my soul. Or has surrendered me to Thee as a bond-slave, Thine even to the death, Grant, or deny, or keep silence, it is all one,
My glory is to be ever Thine, and that suffers nor change nor abasement. I seek nought of Thee in love's service save Thy own good pleasure. And if it be Thy good pleasure to treat me with coldness, that too is
mine."
Is this a passage from the lives of the Fathers of the Desert, or from the hagiology of modern Egypt ? As he who has not travelled abroad or become acquainted with foreign nations can never rightly understand his own, so he who has not studied the
I
Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations. 555
history and development of other religions can but ill understand or appreciate that which he professes. Truth is one; and reli- gion, in its highest sense as the ultimate expression of truth, can only be one if it is true. For religion has its objective as well as its subjective side, and denotes the objects worshipped as they exist in themselves, as well as in their relation to the worshipper. Moreover, whatever differences there maybe between one reli- gion and another objectively considered, yet subjectively religion can have but one subject-matter, one ground upon which its line is traced — the human mind. Infinite as are the forms, immense the divergence between Paganism, Judaism, Christianity, and Mahometanism, and again between their countless sections and sub-sections, aberrations or developments, orthodoxies or heresies, they have all as the subject-matter of such multiform variety one common field of action — the human race. Now that religions do really and most deeply modify, influence, determine, the cha- racter of those who hold them, no thinking mind can doubt. Yet the converse is equally true ; and while such varied religions as divide among themselves the hundreds of millions of the human species are exercising, each over its allotted section, an influence more or less pernicious or beneficial, the one subject mind, so diverse in its unity, so truly one in all its diversity, is constantly and most efiicaciously reacting on its ruler, modify- ing, restricting, developing, and bringing back in a certain mea- sure to unity, creeds so diverse and forms so varying. The Arabs have no truer saying in their famed proverbial store than the favourite adage " Beni Adam," " Sons of Adam," by which they concisely formulise the uniformity, the unity, of human mind and conduct, amid all the variations of ages, nations, and climes. And this holds good Avith regard to religion as to all the rest.
No one therefore should be surprised, much less scandalised, to find in other religions, which he regards as false, pretty much the same order of progress, of action, or of decline, as in his own, which he regards as true. Possibly he may be right in this his belief, possibly he may be wrong ; but right or wrong, he should remember that the nature which forms the ground- work, or the subject-matter, of both religions is the same.
And this fact should serve to make us less anxious to discover, and less ardent to uphold, certain theories, whereby some endea- vour to trace all religions to one common source, thus making them all branches — some straighter, others more gnarled or dis- torted— of the same common stock or tree. Religions are often, like language, not daughters but sisters ; even the link between them is very generally not that of consanguinity, but afiinity. And as among trees the same general and leading features of roots, trunk, branches, and leaves, are to be found generally with
556 Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations.
a certain uniformity in all, though their minute features and intrinsic qualities are widely different, so is it in a measure with religions. This consideration will serve to clear up the apparent inconsistency of looking for asceticism among [Mahometans. How is it possible to find asceticism in a religion based on fatalism, "propped by sensuality, maintained and propagated by brute- force, in which the highest type of man is the ferocious warrior; the noblest reward proposed, a bevy of voluptuous houris? And how can one sentence bring together words of such opposite meaning as asceticism and Mahometanism ? or what can they have in common ? how coexist V Asceticism, cannot be found in Mahometanism in its absolute and ideal character, but only as it exists subjectively; in its votaries, in Mahometan persons and nations, it may exist, however incon- sistent it may be with the theory of the religion. True it is that Mahometanism as such seems absolutely to exclude from its range not only whatever might bear the name of ascetic, but even the virtues and ideas that could serve as a basis to asceti- cism. And so in fact it did for a while, that is, during a short period of early vigour, and whilst the action of the new and in- vading principle was strong enough to smother the reaction of the human mind, and resist whatever modifications such reaction might strive to impress on it. But so complete a triumph was not of long duration; internal development, however contrary to the real and original intentions and tendencies of the new system, went on and strengthened, till, fostered and excited by external influences, unavoidable too in the course of events, a new creation appeared, — new as to the ground it thus occupied, yet nowise new, rather very old, in itself. And thus asceticism, so long known and prevalent in the ancient religions of India and China, in Buddhism and Brahminism, not entirely repressed by Grecian symbolism or Roman materialism, fostered in the Egyptian temples and not excluded by the simplicity of the Sinaitic law, familiar to the teachings of Zoroaster, and long since dominant and brought to a yet fuller and nobler form under the kindred influence of Christianity, found place for its roots and outspread its branches in the ungenial soil of Ma- hometanism itself.
What was its origin, to what influences it owed its first rise and rapid propagation, how far doctrines or practices, remem- brances or anticipations, strange to the law and credence of Islam gave it strength or form, its history will best show. It is our object to trace this history as far as our limits will permit. Much will remain unsaid ; yet it is something to open the first line of investigation in a subject of such manifold interest and bearing.
No doubt can be entertained by any one who has attentively
Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations. 557
studied the Coran, or considered the life of Mahomet as known in contemporary, or at least in early Arab, tradition, that the camel-driver of the Hedjaz was as adverse to all approach to asceticism in theory as he was remote from it in practice. This is shown by his often-repeated words ; and certainly his personal history in no way belied them ; and such too were, as might have been expected, the tendencies of the religion he founded. A short and uniformly monotonous form of prayer ; a few ex- ternal ceremonies, almost all intimately connected with Avhatever is most animal, most debasing in human nature ; a most servile fear of a most material hell ; a most base desire of a heaven of wine and harlots ; a blind and inexorable destiny for God ; and a crowd of slaves for creatures or worshipers ; — such is Islam, as Mahomet conceived it, and as such he constantly preached it. Certainly the law and the lawgiver had little of the ascetic in them!! And the " Sahih,'' the " Mischkat el Mesabih," and similar documents, attest with what energy, ^' in season and out of season," he endeavoured to render his first followers and com- panions even as he was ; nor without success.
Yet even in his lifetime an attempt was made to engraft on this strange trunk a branch of very different growth. The facts are well known. One evening, after some more vigorous decla- mations than usual on the prophet's part, — he had taken for his theme the flames and tortures of hell, — several of his most zealous companions, among whom the names of Omar, Ali, Abou-Dharr, and Abou-Horeirah are conspicuous, retired to pass the night to- gether in a neighbouring dwelling. Here they fell into deep dis- course on the terrors of divine justice, and the means to appease or prevent its course. The conclusion they came to was nowise unna- tural. They agreed that to this end the surest way was to abandon their wives, to pass their lives in continued fast and abstinence, to wear hair-cloth, and practise other similar austerities : in a word, they laid down for themselves a line of conduct truly ascetic, and leading to whatever can follow in such a course. But they desired first of all to secure the approbation of Mahomet. Ac- cordingly, at break of day they presented themselves before him, to acquaint him with the resolution of the night, as well as its motives and purport ; but they had reckoned without their host. The prophet rejected their proposition with a sharp rebuke, and declared marriage and war to be far more agreeable to the Divinity than any austereness of life or mortification of the senses what- ever : and the well-known passage of the Coran, " O true be- lievers, do not abstain from the good things of the earth which God permits you to enjoy," — revealed, of course, by Gabriel on this very occasion, — remains a lasting monument of Mahomet^s disgust at this premature outbreak of ascetic feeling.
558 yUceiicism amongst Mahometan Nations,
Such a lesson, joined to many others of a similar character, was not likely to be soon forgotten. For a century after the prophet's death we hardly find any authentic manifestation of the same tendency. Continued warfare, sometimes against the sur- rounding nations, sometimes, and with equal animosity, among themselves ; the intoxicating excitement of a new and vast sphere of life and action, in which all more or less participated ; the charms of plundered wealth, of captive beauty, of fair lands subdued, — lands which to the half-starved natives of the barren Hedjaz seemed the very paradise promised as future recompense, — Egypt and Syria, Persia and the islands of the Mediterranean, Africa and the Indus ; — all this was little calculated to foster in the flushed conquerors ascetic ideas or corresponding practices. One family alone seems from the very outset to have manifested the germs of an opposite disposition. Ali, the son of Abou-Zhalib, and his numerous race, gave proofs first of a mystic, then of an as- cetic, turn of mind, destined to exercise in after ages, down to the present day, and probably as long as Islam shall have being, a strange and deep influence on the Mahometan world. Their early establishment on the frontiers of Persia, the study or contact of Persian ways and literature, much contributed to bring out and to modify in them their peculiar inclinations. It was in fact in the very lands formerly subject to the Persian rule and religion that Mahometanism, as we shall soon see, admitted — first in a few scattered instances and hesitatingly, then widely spread and fully — the new school, so different from, nay so opposite to, that of its founder. Yet the love of study, a remarkable delicacy of feeling, and a high, even over-wrought, enthusiasm might have sufficed alone to produce such a result in the family of Ah, even in- dependently of similar influences ; and in fact, if Ali himself, his son Hasan, his grandson Zein el Abidin, and after them Djaufar es- Sadik, Mousa el Kadhim, Ali er-Ridha, and others of their race, were successively looked up to by the ascetic brotherhood as guides and instructors in word and deed, yet they never seem to have given in to the pantheistic or Manichsean tendencies so remarkable at a later period among the derviches of Persia. But, as their lives and actions are, to a certain extent, known in Europe, we shall pass over their detail in silence, and content ourselves with having thus indicated once for all a family which was the very backbone, so to speak, of the ascetic frame, to dwell more fully on those less known in our Western world, though most deserving of serious and discerning attention.
For brevity's sake, we shall not note down, one by one, the authorities whence these same facts or events are derived, contenting ourselves with here indicating their names once for all. Ebn Khallican, Moukri, the Nablousi, Abd el Ghani, the
ifi
Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations, 559
Souk el Aschwak, Roudhat el Abrar, El AkWak es-Sabaa, the writings of Mohi ed Din el Hamavvi, of Omar Ebn Faridh, of the Ghazali, of the Kalyoubi, the Anwar el Kadisich, the Kibrit el Ahraar have furnished us with the greater part of the facts and dates here cited ; oral tradition, gathered in intimate inter- course with many yet living among the mystics and ascetics themselves, has supplied a lesser share. Nor do we pretend here to determine the amount of historical credit due to these works or authors, such historical criticism belonging to another and different study. Valeant quantum valent. After all sifting and pondering, a very considerable residue will remain. The events recorded, the sayings reported, were mostly public, and subjected in their very age to the examen of doubt, scepticism, and hosti- lity. Nor do we attempt to explain, to account for, these phe- nomena. We have indeed a very definite, and to us certain, idea as to their origin and character ; and our readers will pro- bably have one also. But to resume our narrative.
The first historical outbreak of ascetic feeling had been, w^e have already seen, spontaneous, and of an Arab character among Arabs. But the lawgiver himself was still alive ; he set his own full influence against it, and stifled it in the germ. War and conquest, with all their train, prevented its speedy reappear- ance. But now the first ardours of movement and novelty had subsided; the sword was, in many regions, sheathed; and another generation had sprung up, accustomed from their birth to the gardens of Damascus or the rose-groves of Schiraz, and through very custom less sensible to their charms, no longer new. Mean- while the great mass of the conquered populations, though out- wardly professing Islam — nay inwardly believing it — yet re- tained, even unavoidably, much of their old feelings and heredi- tary creeds. And the first country where all these circumstances combined to produce their necessary result was, as might have been expected, Persia.
Its inhabitants, whether followers of Zoroaster or allied to their near neighbours the Indians, had already been for ages in presence of mystical ideas and ascetic practices, and had largely imbibed them. Besides, they were far removed by lands and seas from the original centre and radiating focus of Arab Maho- metanism ; and difference of race, added in a great number to the Schiite divergence of creed, rendered them antipathetic, if not to the rehgion and law, at least to the ways and practices of the Arabs. These last had at first rejected — put down — asceticism in every form or fashion ; this was already a strong reason for the others to patronise and adopt it. The result was not long in showing itself.
560 Jsceliclsm amongst Mahometan Nations,
Zaous, Abou Abd er- Rahman, of Persian origin, but bom in the Yemen, led the way. He had passed his early youth in the society of Zein el Abidin, the son of Hasan, and grandson of All, and the first of that family who embodied in his manner of life, as in his writings, those mystical ideas and austere practices "which afterwards distinguished the race. Abou-Horeirah, the devoutest of Mahomet's own companions, and Ebn Abbas, re- nowned for his reHgious lore and unreproached conduct, were also his masters. He took up his abode at Mecca, and there dis- tinguished himself by the severity of his life as w^ell as by the peculiarity of his dress, having adopted the high w^oollen cap, the soufi, whence in process of time arose the title of Soufi, given to ascetics of his class, as well as the long and patched garment entitled the khirkah, distinctive of the future brotherhood. ]\Iecca was no longer the abode of the Caliphs, or centre of government. The death of Othman, in transferring the supreme power to Ali, had given the rank of capital in the Mahometan world for a mo- ment to Coufa ; and later still the family of Ommiah had fixed their royal residence at Damascus. But it was still the centre of religious feeling, and crowds of pilgrims from all parts of the empire, and especially from Pesra, Balkh, Bokhara, and their neighbourhood, tiirouged its streets, or adopted there a more permanent dwelling. Among these Zaous soon found numerous disciples and imitators, whom he admitted to that secret doc- trine which he had learned from the grandson of Ali, while the •uninitiated crowd contented themselves with admiring his long prayers, his fasts, and extreme poverty, and above all his open contempt for all worldly dignity and rank. Of these ^'irtues many examples are recorded in his history, as we have it from numerous authors of a later date; but we must exclude them from this narrative. Zaous died in the 102d year of the Maho- metan era, but not without leaving many and zealous successors in Mecca itself, besides those who carried back to their own native countries the memory and imitation of their master.
One of the most distinguished of these was Hasan Yesar, like Zaous, of Persian origin, but born like him in Arabia, at the town of Medinah, where his mother had been brought as a cap- tive and sold to 0mm Salma, one of the numerous wives of the Prophet. Arrived at man's estate, and having received his liberty, he retired to Basra on the Persian Gulf, a town well known for its attachment to the family of Ali and their doc- trines, and henceforth a stronghold of the ascetic sect. Here he lived undisturbed, though his open disavowal of the reigning family of Ommiah exposed him to some danger, against which, however, the popular veneration proved his safeguard. During
I
Jsceticism amongst Mahometan Nations, 561
the reign of Yejid, son of Maaowlah, founder oftheOmraiade dynasty, he gave public proof of his politico-religious opinions. This caliph having nominated Omar-Ebn Hobeirah governor of the province, this last sent for Hasan Yesar, along with several individuals renowned for learning and piety in the town of Basra, to consult them, whether feignedly or not, on the validity of his appointment by Yejid. The companions of Hasan gave a courtly and temporising answer. Hasan kept silence till pressed to speak. He replied, " Son of Hobeirah, God makes light of Yejid, but Yejid cannot make light of God; for God can protect you against Yejid, and Yejid cannot protect you from God; yet know the time is nigh when God will send against you an angel to make you descend from your throne, and to drag you from your spacious castle to a narrow tomb; and then naught can save you except your owm works, O son of Hobeirah. But if you needs must disobey God, know that God ordained human power as a means of defence to His religion and to His ser- vants. And how can you abuse God-ordained power to oppress that religion and the servants of God ? No creature can exact as obedience disobedience to the Creator." The new governor trembled, and abstained from reply or comment.
One of Hasan's favourite sayings was, " I never knew an undoubted certainty liker among men to an uncertain doubt than death." His life proved his own freedom from the general illusion; and his death, w^hlch occurred in the year 110 of the Hejira, was cheered by visions of glory.
Another of the disciples of Zaous, named Abou Mohammed Ata, a Negro and a slave by birth, coeval with Hasan, inhabited Mecca, where he is said to have exercised a great influence over the pilgrims to that town. But a certain tendency to practical immorality, not uncommon in overstrained mysticism, appears to have betrayed itself in his teachings. We shall meet with striking examples of this hereafter. However, Mecca and Me- dlnah were too near to Syria, and the influence of the Ommiade dynasty, to be suitable localities for the permanent residence of the doctors of the new school. As the distinction between the east and the west of the Mahometan empire became more and more marked, the lines of orthodox sensualism and of ambiguous or heterodox mysticism were more fully drawn out ; and while the west appeared awhile as the stronghold of the former, the east gave a ready shelter to the latter. Mecca alone continued to form a sort of exception, the pilgrimage uniting there all the various schools of doctrine and their teachers, especially during the annual solemnities attending the pilgrimage ; and thus the place continued a centre of meeting, though no longer of habi- tation, to the ascetic faction.
562 Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations.
Basra was now their head-quarters. For a full century we shall find it such, till the dynasty of the Moghrebins and Fati- mites in Africa and Egypt at last rendered Cairo in the west much what Basra had been at the outset in the east. But this was yet to come.
Malik Ebn Dinar, a Persian and a slave by birth, adorned by his virtues, amongst which the love of manual labour, united with its sister-qualities of poverty and humility, was eminently conspicuous, next appeared as chief among the ascetics of his age. He flourished in the second century of Islam, and enjoyed the friendship and esteem of the personages then most noted for learning or piety. His frequent citations of the Bible might almost give rise to a suspicion of Christian tendencies, or at least warrant the belief that he counted among his masters in the mystic school others than Zaous and the inhabitants of Mecca. He died at Basra in the year 131 of the Hejirah.
Not less celebrated in his day was Omar Abou Othman, born in the Hedjaz, but, like most of those above mentioned, of Persian origin. He also inhabited Basra, and was a disciple of Hasan Yesar, who described him as one worthy of angels and prophets for preceptors and guides, — one who never exhorted save to what he had first put in practica, nor deterred from any thing except what he inviolably abstained from. Like his master, he possessed an admirable freedom of spirit in his intercourse with the great, whose proffers he steadily refused to accept, and an extreme affability towards the poor. He was a vigorous as- sertor of the free-will of man against the predestinarian systems then developing into dogma. At his death he turned to one of the assistants, and said, " Death has come on me and found me unprepared ;" then, addressing himself to God, he added, " O Lord, thou knowest that I never had to choose between two things, — one according to thy good will, and the other pleasing to myself, — but I preferred thy good will to my own satisfaction, and now my hope is in thy mercy." He died in the 144th year of the Hejirah.
About the same time Omar Abou Durr and Sofein Abou Abd Allah displayed — the one at Coufa, the other at Basra — similar examples of austerity and virtue. Hammad Abou Ismail, son of the celebrated Abou Hanifah, Abd Allah Me- rouji, and Moliammed Ebn es-Semmak, distinguished them- selves in the same region and by the same conduct. Ebn es- Semmak possessed a high degree of eloquence, and often spoke in public. Many of his sayings are preserved ; amongst which the sentence, " Fear God as though you had never obeyed Him, and hope in God as though you had never sinned against Him," may well be considered worthy of a Christian preacher.
Asceticism amongst Mohametan Nations, 5QS
But whether at Mecca or at Basra, the various ascetics above mentioned, and numerous others, especially in the second century of Islam, — here omitted for brevity's sake, — whatever personal influence they might exercise, or whatever virtues they might practise, had never formed a particular and distinct association or brotherhood. No common rule united them ; no one was in any rigorous sense superior or director of the rest ; they lived each according to his own special character; in a word, they were individuals, not an order or a body. But now appeared one who modified advantageously the character of their existence, and, by establishing a strict union and brotherhood among them, assured the permanence of their asceticism while he heightened their enthusiasm, developed their hitherto uncertain theory, and organised its practice, — the founder and father of the nu- merous Derviche family, the celebrated Fodheil Abou Ali Zali- kani. Born, like the greater number of those already mentioned, of Persian parents (he was a native of the province of Khoras- san), he had been in early youth a highway robber, and aban- doned to all the vices w^hich accompany such a mode of exist- ence. One night he had scaled the walls of a house where a girl of whom he was enamoured dwelt, and, concealed on the roof, awaited the moment to descend and gratify his passion. But while thus occupied he heard a voice repeating the well- known verse of the Coran : " Is it not high time for those who believe to open their hearts to compunction ?" *' Lord, it is high time indeed," replied Fodheil; and leaving the house, as w^ell as his evil design, he retired to a half-ruined caravansarai not far off, there to pass the rest of the night. Several travellers were at the moment lodged in the caravansarai ; and, concealed by the darkness, he overheard their conversation. "Let us start on our journey," said one ; and the others answered, " Let us wait till morning, for the robber Fodheil is out on the roads." This completed the conversion of the already repent- ant highwayman. He advanced towards the travellers, and, discovering himself to them, assured them that henceforth neither they nor any others should have ought to fear from him. He then stripped himself of his weapons and worldly gear, put on a patched and tattered garment, and passed the rest of his life in wandering from place to place, in the severest penitence and in extreme poverty, sometimes alone, sometimes with numerous disciples, whom he took under his direction, and formed into a strict and organised brotherhood. But with all his austerity of life, his prolonged fasts and watchings, his ragged dress and wearisome pilgrimages, he preferred the practice of interior virtue and purity of intention to all out- ward observances, and used often to say that " he who is modest
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$6^ Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations,
and compliant to others, and lives in meekness and patience, gains a higher reward by so doing than if he fasted all his days, and watched in prayer all his nights/' At so high a price did he place obedience to a spiritual guide, and so necessary did he deem it, that he declared, " Had I a promise of whatever I should ask in prayer, yet would I not offer that prayer save in union with a superior." But his favourite virtue was the love of God in perfect conformity to His will, above all hope or fear. Thus when his only son — whose virtues resembled his ftither^s — died in early age, Fodheil was seen with a countenance of unusual cheerfulness ; and being asked by his intimate disciple Ragi Abou Ali, afterwards Kadhi of the town of Rei, the reason wherefore, he answered : " It was God's good pleasure, and it is therefore my good pleasure also.'' " To leave ought undone for the esteem of men is hypocrisy, and to do ought for their esteem is idolatry," were also his words. "Nay, much is he beguiled who serves God from fear or hope, for His true ser- vice is for mere love," and, speaking of himself, " I serve God because I cannot help serving Him for very love's sake," — are expressions of his more worthy in truth of admiration than of sinister comment.
An often-repeated anecdote relating to this extraordinary man may here find place, though perhaps not unknown to some of our readers. Haroun er-Rashid, the celebrated Caliph of Bagdad, was on his way to Mecca. The road from Coufa to the gates of the sacred city had been strewn with the finest carpets; and whatever luxury and power could minister to lighten the fatigues of the pious but laborious journey sur- rounded the prince. While thus advancing by easy stages on his ornate way, he fell in with Fodheil, who, alone and on foot, according to his invariable custom, crossed his path. The Caliph, already acquainted with him, but desirous of yet further intimacy, detained the unwilling ascetic for some hours under a silken tent. After a long conversation, when the instances of Fodheil had at last procured him permission to depart, Haroun said to him, "Tell me, have you ever met with any one of greater detachment than yourself?" "Yes," answered Fodheil, "I have." "And who can that be?" re- joined the Caliph. "You yourself," answered the ascetic. " God bless us V said Haroun, in utter amazement ; " what do you mean ?'^ " Yes," answered Fodheil, " it is even so : your detachment is greater than mine ; for I have only detached my- self from this Avorld, which is little and perishable, while you, as it seems, have detached yourself from the next, which is immense and everlasting." But the life of Fodheil alone would, if given at length, suffice for a volume ; we pass over accord-
Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations. 565
irigly innumerable doings and sayings of authentic record, as well as wonders and miracles of perhaps more equivocal authen- ticity, to continue the history of the master in some of his prin- cipal disciples.
Fodheil died in the year 187 of the Hejira. In his lifetime the famous Ibrahim Ebn Adhem, son of noble parents, in the town of Balkh in Khorassan, had been his most cherished fol- lower and nearest imitator. Unlike his master, he had been remarkable for his pious inclinations from his earliest youth ; but it was under the direction of Fodheil that he abandoned his worldly hopes to enter on a life of poverty and humiliation. Seventeen times he went on pilgrimage to Mecca across the whole breadth of the Arabian peninsula, without guide or pro- visions, putting his trust in God alone. It is said that, being once on the point of perishing with thirst in the sandy desert, he begged of God a draught of water, and immediately an angel stood before him with a full pitcher in his hand. But Ebn Adhem repented of his over-haste in demanding this solace, and requested the angel only to pour the water over his burning head instead of giving it him to drink. The angel complied, and at the same instant his thirst and weariness vanished, and so he arrived safely at his journey's end.
Returned to his native town, as he passed through the streets in beggar's guise, a soldier who had known him in wealth and nobility, irritated at seeing him thus, as he thought, disgrace his family, met him mid-way and struck him on the face. " God bless you,'' said Ibrahim, and continued his way without other notice. But the soldier, emboldened by his forbearance, followed him in the crowd, and struck him again yet more brutally. Ibrahim gave the same answer ; and when the soldier repeated the insult a third time, " God bless you" was still the reply. But the arm of the soldier was suddenly paralysed, and he fell on the ground in convulsions. The bystanders, witnesses of the outrage and of its consequences, broke out into half-adoring admiration of the patient ascetic. But he, unwilling to receive their honours, fled, and did not stay till he joined next day a band of his companions, disciples of Fodheil, like himself, out- side the town. They, supposing that the punishment of the soldier (who had meantime, however, been restored to health) was the result of a curse from Ibrahim, received him with re- proaches. "You have made a most unnecessary display, and have disgraced the ascetic garment," said they. "Not I," answered Ibrahim. " God is my witness I only prayed to Him for good ; but the Master of the face was jealous over it as His own;" implying that God had taken his cause in hand, and regarded the insult given him as addressed to Himself
566 Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations.
This forbearance under injury, and reluctance to have" their right manifested before men, is one of the most prominent fea- tures in the disciples of Fodheil. A young man among his followers, whose name is not recorded, was, according to a celebrated writer, on his way in the desert, along with several worldly companions — merchants, soldiers, &c. They showed him much ill-will, and he bore it patiently. At last, one day they came to a well, whose scanty waters could only be reached by a bucket attached to a long rope. When all had satisfied their thirst, the young ascetic approached to quench his own. But one of the bystanders struck the bucket from his hand with such violence that it slipped from the noose, and fell to the bottom of the well. The disciple of Fodheil hid his face between his hands, thanking God for this severe mortification. But a noise and shaking like that of a distant earthquake was heard and felt, and the water rose in the well till it reached the rim, bearing the bucket along with it. The ascetic fled from the admiration of men, and did not again appear during the journey. Beturned to Damascus some months after, one of the merchants saw the same youth stretched on a heap by the roadside in utter destitution and misery. " Are not you he," said the merchant, " at whose prayer the w^ell filled with water ? and whence now this wretched condition?" "Were it not for such abasement as this I had not found such honour," answered the dying youth. We have selected this one among hundreds of parallel examples.
Ibrahim el Adhem died before his master. But the main work was done; and the ascetic impulse, now embodied in at hierarchical form, had nothing to fear from the loss of any single individual, however eminent.
After the death of Fodheil we find the supreme direction of the brotherhood confided to Bischar el Hafi, njitive of Meron, and inhabitant of Bagdad. When young he had, like Fodheil, led a reckless life, till one day walking in the streets he saw written on a piece of paper, torn and trampled on by the feet of the passers-by, the name of God. He picked it up and, having cleaned it to the best of his ability, took it home and placed it out of the reach of further profanation. The same night he heard a voice saying to him, " Bischar, thou hast honoured my name, and I will accordingly render thy name honourable in this world and in that to come.^' He awoke from sleep a changed man, and began a new life of penance and virtue.
The name *' Hafi" signifies barefoot It was given him on the following occasion. One of his shoes having given way, he took it to a cobbler to get it repaired. But the artisan, thinking the work hardly worth doing (in which he was probably not far
Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations. 567
wrong), answered him with an angry *^ What a plague you are with your shoe ! is it worth while troubling a man about that ?" Bischar threw away on the spot both that which he held in his hand and the other from his foot, and never wore shoes again. His fast was so severe that he would not even touch food that had any thing of man's preparation in it. His greatest trial was from the veneration of men : " O God,^' he used to say, ** save me from this honour, the requital of which may perchance be confusion in another life." He died about the beginning of the third century of the Hejira.
A little before this a remarkable example of the power of the ascetic impulse over the human mind had been given in the person of Ahmed, the third son of Haroun er-Raschid, This lad — for he was at the time only sixteen or seventeen years of age — after a childhood passed in resisting the seductions of his father's splendid court, suddenly abandoned the palace and the capital, and hid himself in Basra, where for a long while he eluded his father's anxious search. Disguised as a mason, he lived among the day-labourers of the town, and passed about three years in the most entire detachment from all that the world can offer ; what little remained from the wages of his labour he gave to the poor, and never reserved any thing from one day to the next. When near twenty years of age he fell ill, and, unwilling even then to seek human help, or to discover his real name (he had borne the assumed title of Gherib, i.e. the stranger), he wasted away, abandoned by all, at the entrance of the cemetery of the town, stretched on a piece of old matting, with a stone for pillow. When at the point of death, he sent for a wealthy inhabitant who had once shown him kindness, and gave him a precious jewel, which he had borne about him in secret, the gift of his mother Zobeidah to him when a child. This, without any explanation or disclosure of his real quality, he gave to his friend, telling him to bear it to the Caliph at Bagdad, and to add that he who sent it wished him at his last hour such happiness as he himself now enjoyed. He then re- mained in silent prayer a few hours, and died ; he was buried among the poor in the common cemetery. When his father and mother had recognised the token of this new Alexis, they wept bitterly. But the Caliph said, " I weep not for him, but for myself; the gainer is my son, the loser I." He then visited his burying-place at Basra, and caused a magnificent monument to be erected on the spot.
Before closing the series of detailed narration (which if •carried on for the following centuries would lead us too far), we must mention yet one more hero of asceticism, remarkable for having laid in Egypt the foundations of this mystic school, of
568 Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations,
which he was one of the brightest ornaments, as well as for having been the first to undergo that persecution which after- wards cost the lives of many. It is indeed wonderful how such persecution, though often threatened, had not yet in fact reached those whose whole lives, not to say their doctrines (of which more hereafter, but they were secret as yet) were an open disavowal of, nay a contradiction to, the teaching and examples of the Prophet. Abou el Faidh Thouban, more commonly known by the title of Dhou-el-Noun, of Nubian descent, offers at the beginning of the third century so wondrous a history of superhuman virtues and supernatural prodigies, that we are com- pelled to acknowledge the Egyptian equal or superior to any of his Persian predecessors or contemporaries. He visited many lands, and never took with him any provision for his journey; confidence in God and contempt of the world were his favourite virtues.
At this time Cairo, had become, what it still is, one of the most vicious as well as one of the most populous cities of the East. Dhou-el-jN'oun signalised himself by his open rebuke of the vices of the inhabitants, and especially of the local go- vernors, who caused him to be often beaten and imprisoned, a conduct which only drew from him expressions of resignation and joy. " All this is as nothing so I be not separated from Thee, 0 my God," was his exclamation while dragged through the crowded street, with blows and insults by the soldiers of the garrison. He was even sent, as guilty of treason and heresy, — an accusation which his disavowal of the existing Caliphate in the person of Motawakhel Billah, and his mystical doctrines might seem to justify, — to Bagdad, then the seat of government. But when led before the Caliph he spoke with such vigour and unction on the necessity of repentance and the vanity of the world, that Motawakhel caused his chains to be struck off, and sent him back with esteem and safe-conduct to Egypt. Three things he daily asked of God in prayer. The first was never to have any certainty of his means of subsistence for the morrow. The second was never to be in honour among men. And the third and last was to see God's face in mercy at his death-hour. Near the end of his life, one of his more intimate disciples ventured to question him on this triple prayer, and what had been its result. " As for the first and second petitions," answered Dhou- el-Noun, " God has liberally granted them, and I trust in His goodness that He will not refuse me the third." He died in the year 245, and his tomb is still an object of popular veneration at Cairo. But his disciples continued his work; and a new and vigorous centre of asceticism was thus permanently establislied in Egypt, and soon became connected with the yet austerer schools of Africa and the West.
I
Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations, 569
Between this century and the next, two events occurred of great importance to the disciples of the mystic school. We have seen their gradual progress from the state of separate and disconnected individuals to that of united bands or com- panies under a single head, and acknowledging a supreme re- ligious authority quite independent of caliph, doctor, or imam. Yet they had hitherto no common dwelling or fixed meeting- place in the towns they frequented ; nay, this erratic and un- stable kind of life seemed to them most in accordance wdth the extreme poverty and detachment which they professed. It was also in some part owing to the strong Arab tinge of character which pervaded them ; for although most of them were, as we have already seen, of Persian or Ethiopian parentage, yet many of them had been born in, and all inhabited, countries where the Arab language and population prevailed ; and their pilgrimages to Mecca doubtless yet further fostered this tendency. But the Persian character is of a more domiciliary cast ; and there could be little doubt that the ascetics inhabiting the eastern provinces would sooner or later settle in what w^e may here call, for Avant of a better name, convents or monasteries. While those pro- vinces continued under Arab government, such a measure could hardly have been tolerated. But already the great empire of the Abbaside Caliphs was falling into decay, and the tributary dynasty of the Samanide princes, founded about the year 260 of the Hejira by Ismail es-Samani, soon extended from Bokhara over the neighbouring regions of Balkh, Samarcand, and Kho- rassan, and became a true Persian government, dependent in little more than name on the Arab Caliph of Bagdad.
All the princes of the Samanide race were remarkable foi their patronage of learning and piety. But Nasser Ebn Ahmed, third in the royal succession, signalised himself by his love of retirement and religious meditation. He founded an oratory at Bokhara for that purpose ; and it soon became the resort of numerous ascetics. Other similar buildings arose throughout the kingdom ; and the Derviches of the East now took on them their permanent name and manner of life.
The second event which signalised this era was the outbreak of open heterodoxy in the ascetic faction. From the very out- set their tenets had been opposed, like their practice, to the prevailing system. But few and scattered amidst an immense population, still in all the fresh vigour of fanaticism, they found concealment of these tenets absolutely necessary. Thus Ali Zein el Abidin, grandson of the famous Ali, and grand -master, €0 to speak, of the secret sect, says of himself, in verses pre- served to our day, — he was no mean poet, — what we give in as faithful a translation as we can ;
570 Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations,
"Above all things I conceal the precious jewel of my knowledge. Lest the uninitiated should behold it, and be bewildered ; Ah, how many a rare jewel of this kind, should I openly display it, Men would say to me, * Thou art one of the worshippers of idols j' And zealous Muslims would set my blood at price. Deeming the worst of crimes an acceptable and virtuous action."
Such were the fears and such the conduct of his disciples or imitators for two centuries. But once numerous, and having learned their strength from their union, they began to think concealment less necessary, and at last aspired to substitute their dogmas for those of Islam.
They had indeed borrowed much, as far as doctrine went, from the old Persian creed, and yet more from the Christian. The ideas of a radiant Divinity mediating between the Supreme Fountain-head of being and the created world ; of an all-per- vading Spirit whose manifestation was in love ; of detachment from material and visible objects; of poverty, humility, and obedience as the true path to God ; the belief even in Divine Incarnation and a Deity as man conversing with men ; — these ideas, if not absolutely derived from Christianity, were at least fostered by it and near of kin. Other more pantheistic ten- dencies, such as Divine absorption, universal manifestation of the Deity under the seeming appearances of limited forms, the final return of all things to the unity of God, a tendency some- times also to regard matter as intrinsically impure and evil, and in certain instances an absolute reprobation of marriage, united again, as might be anticipated, with monstrous and shameful sensuality, — were to be remarked especially in those whose habitation as well as their origin attached them to the old Persian traditions, whence a considerable share of these tenets doubtless originated. The Arabs dwelling in brother- hood were nearer to Christianity ; the Persian to the teaching of Zoroaster or Manes.
Meanwhile a continual, though often repressed, effort per- vaded the East to throw off the rule of the Ommiade or Ab- baside Caliphs, and to substitute for them the real or pretended descendants of Ali. The history of the Khowaridj, of the Is- mailiens, of the Rowafidhs, continued in later times by the Fatimites of Egypt, by the Druses, and by the Soufi dynasty of Persia, affords at once the evidence and the result of this effort. With this the ascetic movement often blended; and thus the over- throw of the family and religion of Mahomet, in order to substi- tute in its place that of Ali, or some new system of the mystics themselves, became a scheme common and familiar to all.
Accordingly, while the political rebels attacked the govern- ment by open force, the mystics undermined its religious hold on the people, at first in secret, at last with more daring pub-
Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations, 571
licity. And though their reputation, often well deserved, of high personal virtue, nay miraculous sanctity, screened them at times from orthodox severity, yet they not unfrequently fell its victims. Thus perished at Bagdad, in the year 309 of the Hejira, Hosain Abou Meghith el Halladj, though not till after he had founded a new and well-defined school of doctrine, destined to count among its professors in later times three names of gigantic reputation and influence in the East, — the ascetic Abd-el-Kadir el Ghilani, the doctor Mohi ed-Din Ebn-Aarabi el Moghrebi, and the poet Omar Ebn el Faridh, author of the celebrated Divan, unrivalled in depth and beauty, which bears his name.
Hosain el Halladj was a native of Baidha, a village near Schiraz, but educated in the province of Irak, in the neigh- bourhood of Coufa. Thence he came to Bagdad, where, like other ascetics of his age, he lived by the labour of his hands, and became a disciple of Djenid Abou Kasim, equally famous for sanctity and mysticism in that town, though of most ques- tionable orthodoxy. But Halladj soon outdid his master in every way. His fasts were prolonged to three or four continuous days, and were accompanied by ecstasies, in which he was often said to be seen raised from the earth and surrounded with light. In this state he often gave utterance to strange expressions, denot- ing an intimate union with the Deity ; and the verses he com- posed in his calmer moments have not unfrequently the same purport. Such are these :
*',I am He whom I love, and He whom I love is I ; We are two spirits, inhabiting one outward frame : And when you behold me, you behold Him, And when you behold Him, you behold us twain."
He taught the freedom of the human will, and denied the pre- destinarian system of Islam, on which he wrote the following bitter satire, in verses of no ordinary beauty, and frequently repeated in the East, but under breath, to the present day. We have often heard them thus :
" What can man do, if the decrees of predestination surround him, Binding him in his every state ? answer me, 0 learned professor. He {i. e. as if He, that is God) cast him into the ocean, bound hand
and foot, and then said to him, Woe to you, woe to you, should you get wet with the water."
He it is who thus in his verse addresses God :
" I love Thee with a twofold love, the love of friendship. And the love grounded on this alone, that Thou art worthy of it. But as to that my love which is the love of friendship, It is a love which leaves me no thought for any save Thee ; And as to the love of Thee according to Thy worthiness, 0 raise from betwixt us the veil, that I may behold Thee. Nor is any praise due to me either for this or for that (love), But to Thee alone the praise both for this and that."
572 Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations,
His life was in accordance with his sentiments, and never had a master more entire command over the love and veneration of his disciples.
But at last his prolonged absence from the customary Maho- metan prayers, his neglect of the sacred pilgrimage, joined to a strong suspicion that his covert doctrine was nothing else than a form of Christianity, excited the suspicions of the more or- thodox teachers of the town ; and perhaps their jealousy of his superior popularity might coincide with their doctrinal zeal. He was accused of affecting divine honours, and in spite of the utter want of proof was condemned to death in the 309th year of the Hejira. He was cruelly scourged, then his hands and feet were cut off, and last his head. His body was burned, and the ashes thrown into the Tigris. His last words were to exhort the countless spectators of his torments not to permit any unjust doubts of the Divine Providence to arise in their minds at such a spectacle ; " for," said he, " God herein treats me as a friend treats his friend, to whom he passes the cup of which he has first drunk himself.^^ The Christian sense of these words requires no comment. About the same time some of his companions met a similar fate. Others fled; and the mystic school of Bagdad was permanently transferred, at least in great measure, to Egypt and the West.
It would be a long task to trace the lives and fortunes, to record the sayings and acts, of those who followed in their path. But before concluding this subject we must briefly mention three widely-famed personages who flourished in the sixth and seventh centuries of Islamism, and who gave their names to the three principal brotherhoods into which the ascetics of the countries where Arabic is spoken were henceforth divided. Their work has remained to this day.
The first of these was Abd-el-Kadir el Ghilani. Born on the southern shores of the Caspian Sea, he came when yet young to Bagdad, where he often resided. Such was the austerity of his life, such the wonders attributed to him, such the sublimity of his doctrine, that he was looked on universally as the Kothb of his day. This name requires some brief expla- nation.
Long before this the mystics of the East had persuaded themselves that there existed on the earth, among the initiated (or illuminated, as they often called themselves), a secret hierarchy, on which they all depended, and in whose obedience and instructions they learned and followed the truth, unknown to the uninitiated crowd around them. Of this hierarchy the supreme dignity was supposed to be vested in the Khidr. This was a man indeed, but one far elevated above ordinary human
Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations. 573
nature by his transcendent privileges. Admitted to the Divine Vision, and possessed in consequence of a relative omnipotence and omniscience on earth ; visible or invisible at pleasure ; freed from the bonds of space and time ; by a sort of ubiquity and immortality appearing in various forms on earth to uphold the cause of truth ; then concealed awhile from men ; known in various ages as Seth, as Enoch, as Elias, and yet to comei at the end of time as the Mahdi el Montager (the expected guide); — this wonderful being was the centre, the prop, the ruler, the mediator of the ascetic band, and as such honoured with the name of Kothb, or axis, as being the spiritual pole round which and on which all moved or were upheld. Under him were the Aulia, or intimate friends of God, seventy- two in number (though some restrict them to narrower limits, twenty-four, for example), holy men living on earth, who were admitted by the Kothb to his intimate familiarity, and who were to the rest the sources of all doctrine, authority, and sanctity. Among these again one, preeminent above the rest, was qualified by the vicarious title of Kothb-ez-zaman, or axis of his age, and was regarded as the visible depositary of the knowledge and power of the supreme Kothb — who was often named, for distinction-sake, Kothb el- Akthab, or axis of the axes — and his constant representative amongst men. But as this important election and consequent delegation of powder was invisible and hidden from the greater number even of the ascetics themselves, — and neither the Kothb- ez-zaman nor the Aulia bore any outward or distinctive sign of dignity and authority, — it could only be manifested by its effects, and thus known by degrees to the outer world, and even then rather as a conjecture than as a positive certainty.
But that Abd-el-Kadir el Ghilani was the Kothb of his time no one doubted, and as such he announced himself un- hesitatingly in his moments of religious excitement, though at others he strove to conceal himself under the veil of a mean and despicable appearance. However, in his quality of Kothb he founded the brotherhood of the Kaderieh, or, as we should say, the Order of Abd-el-Kadir, and gave them for device or banner, to use their own term, poverty and abase- ment. The association counted in its ranks some of the great- est names of eastern honour in mystic and poetic literature, — Mohi ed Din Ebn Aarabi in Syria, and Omar Ebn el Faridh in Egypt. Both belonged to this brotherhood. Their doctrine was that of Hosein el Halladj, whom Abd-el-Kadir taught them to look on as their master, though it w^as often veiled by them under a seemingly orthodox terminology ; and their austerity and contempt of the world gave them a great influ- ence over the mass of the people. They subsist to this day.
574 Asceticism amojigst Mahometan Nations,
A little later, but in the same century as Abd-el-Kadir, i.e, the sixth, Ahmed Ebn Refalii, in the desert in the neighbourhood of Basra, founded a second and yet stranger order of ascetics. Their wandering habits and half-savage life distinguish them from the calmer and more social Kaderieh; and it is from this brother- hood that many of those half-juggler, half-enthusiast associa- tions have sprung, of which travellers in the East have many tales to relate. They are somewhat ill-looked on by the more learned or more right-judging classes of men; yet their enthu- siasm, as well as their extravagant feats, often procure them the admiration of the populace. Ahmed el Refaai died near Basra in the year 575 of the Hejirah.
Somewhat later still, — that is, towards the beginning of the seventh century, — the Scheikh Ali Abou-1-Hasan Esh-Shadheli appeared in Egypt and in the Yemen, and gave rise to the confraternity of the Shadhelieh. Calm, modest, studious, and fond of retirement, yet of great courtesy to those who visited or consulted him, he instilled the same spirit into his numer- ous disciples, and it still distinguishes his followers. A marked propensity to associate with Christians, and an open approval of many points in their religion, have in our own days drawn on them the ill-will of the Turkish government. Their number is very considerable ; and they show more vitality than either of the two preceding brotherhoods.
These three associations are again subdivided into many and distinct bands, each of which bears the name of its founder or first director. Some, and especially the Refaaiyeh, distinguish themselves by their very peculiar dress and high woollen cap ; others, like the Shadhelieh, by the string of beads : all possess the long robe, or khirkah, peculiar to the ascetic profession, and mentioned at the beginning of this article; but they do not always wear it in the crowd, especially the Kaderieh, who are bound to avoid whatever might have an air of ostentation or draw on them general notice.
As for the Persian Derviches, separated more and more by
Eolitical and religious division from their Western brethren, they ave ended by having little in common with them; while the pantheistic teaching so prevalent in the East is constantly dis- avowed by the followers of Abd-el-Kadir, the Refaai, and the Schadheli, though their disavowal has not always sufficed to save the Kaderieh from all suspicion on this very head ; while the Schadhelieh are in their turn accused of pan-religionism, not entirely, it may be, without reason.
Yet, amid all the decline brought on the East by Ottoman misrule, amid all the jarring and ungenial influences that have ruined and laid bare those once populous and flourishing re-
Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations, 575
gions, amid bitter bigotry within and Western materialism from without, and mere anarchy every where, they still subsist, still maintain much of their old doctrines and their hereditary practices. What revivals or decay they have gone through, what more noted examples of austerity and virtue they have afforded, how far prevailing modifications of creed and thought among the masses have reacted on them also, to what degree the Naksch-bundi association, that freemasonry of the East, has found its way among them, — all this would form the subject of an interesting enquiry which we have not space to pursue here. For the same reason we must abstain from attempting a full analysis of their doctrine, theoretical or practical, setting in full light what is its connection with, what its opposition to, the Islam of Mahomet. And we can only allude, in passing, to the double symbolism whereby the highest and most spiritual mys- teries of asceticism were often veiled under the semblance of human personages and passions, or the dogmas and the teachers most hostile to Mahometism made to assume the sound or ap- pearance of orthodox nomenclature or characters. Thus Mecca and Mahomet, the Prophet's sepulchre or the victory of Bedr, are the apparent themes of eulogium or veneration ; but it is another Mahomet than he of the Hedjaz, another Mecca, and another Bedr. Thus they strove, not without frequent success, to penetrate the enemy's camp in his own dress and likeness ; and while regarded by all around them as friends, they dealt deadly blows and did the work of destruction, themselves secure : never less orthodox in Islam than when they appeared most so. This subject alone would suffice for an ample treatise. But any one who has paid attention to the facts we have already described can form, if not a complete picture, at least a certain outline of this view. We have not pointed out the resemblance step by step, the counterpart, or the antithesis thus afforded to the development of asceticism in Christian nations. Some such parallelism, however, must naturally suggest itself to an atten- tive reader; and we therefore laid down at the outset certain principles which seemed proper to lessen unmeaning wonder, or obviate unseasonable scandal. Fuller knowledge solves many problems.
Another point of great interest which a fuller narrative and deeper investigation might fairly bring to light we have here advisedly passed over. But those, though they are few in number, who can throw themselves into the feelings of other nations than their own, may gather from what we have said some conclusions both as to what arms Eastern Mahometanism may justly fear, and under what form or by what line of con- duct Christianity might find its way, and become once more
576 Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations,
dominant, in Arab lands. Perhaps we have sufficiently indi- cated the only efficacious measures towards such an end, as well as their cost. But modern Europe is little likely to give to the East, even in such a cause, new Fodheils or Halladjs. At any rate, it is easy to see how little adapted to success are the means hitherto, generally at least, adopted ; and why European luxury and commerce can make, indeed has already made, in the East, a certain number of infidels, countless embittered enemies, but no Christians,
[ 577 ]
THE COLONISATION OF NORTHU.AIBRIA.
The investigator of the early Teutonic colonisation of England finds in diticrent parts of the enquiry counterbalancing aids and privations. To the south of the island is mainly confined that help to\yards elucidating its early history which is de- rivable from the collection of grant-deeds and charters known as the Codex Diplomaticus ^Evi Saxonici. The six northern counties, on the other hand, or Northumbria, can point to the illustrious Northumbrian writer of the eighth century, the greatest literary light of the dark ages^ whose works supply far more information bearing on their annals than on those of the southern counties. It is to the colonisation of these northern counties that we desire now to draw attention. They were settled under circumstances in many respects exceptional, the detailed examination of which promises to open an extremely interesting and but partially explored field. Not that there is any lack of works upon the early history and antiquities of every one of these counties, taken separately. But in the Saxon times Northumbria formed, ordinarily at least, one po- litical whole, and its history ought therefore to be similarly treated. To treat of the early state of the north of England merely in its connection with the separate modern counties which compose it, can only lead to a fragmentary and unsatisfying knowledge. Again, in regular histories of England, it is sur- prising how little pains have been expended — apparently from the belief that the subject is too unimportant to require it — upon the construction of a really critical account of the political and social development of the different Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, Northumbria included. Even Lingard slides without misgiving over the most palpable difficulties, and often presents us with a narrative which, under the mask of a rhetorical and apparent coherency, conceals improbabilities of the gravest kind. Sir Francis Palgrave leaves gaps both in his reasoning and his narrative, and falls besides into downright blunders. Turner's is still the most valuable history in our language for those times ; but besides his inability to appreciate the religious ele- ment in Saxon society, he falls into errors from the want of adherence to those rigid critical principles by which the pre- sent generation has learned both to discriminate between the value of different documents, and to search out the criteria of historic truth among collateral sources of information of aU
578 Colonisation of Northumhria.
kinds, many of which the historian of the old school never dreamed of consulting.
The objects of the present paper are: 1. to describe the Teutonic colonisation of Northumbria, showing the lines along which it proceeded, and the checks and reverses which it sus- tained, distinguishing between the Angle and Danish or Nor- wegian operations ; and 2. to explain, as far as possible, the cir- cumstances and conditions under which the six northern counties were brought to their present forms and boundaries.
It is usual to commence the history of the Angle kingdoms north of the H umber with Ida, who, according to the Saxon Chronicle, began to reign in Northumbria in the year 547, having his royal residence at Bamborough. Upon this view, colonisation would have begun in Northumberland sooner than in Yorkshire. This, however, seems improbable, for geographical and other reasons. Such a tempting harbour as the mouth of the Humber would not surely have been neglected by the Angle adventurers, in favour of the exposed and dangerous coast of Northumberland. But we are not without some positive evi- dence. Nennius, or whoever was the author of the Historia Britonum, says that Seomil, the sixth in descent from Woden, ''first separated^' (there is a various reading which has "con- quered'^) '' Deur from Berneich,'' that is, Deira from Bernicia.^
* Upon the authorship of the Historia Britonum the reader may consult Mr. Stevenson's edition of Nennius, and the remarks by Mr. Duffus Hardy in the Introduction to the Monumenta Historica Britannica. The question is one of the most difficult within the range of historical and bibliographical criticism. Mr. Duffus Hardy comes to the conclusion that we must be content to consider the Historia Britonum as an anonymous production. As to the two prologues, he seems to regard the second, or shorter one, as an abbreviated and later ver- sion of the first. The following view, which cannot here, however, be supported by all the proofs and illustrations which are capable of being adduced, seems, on the whole, to embrace the leading probabilities of the case.
1. The second prologue is not an abbreviation of the first ; on the contrary, the first is a rhetorical amplification of the second. Let any one carefully com- pare the two together, and judge for himself. Besides the internal evidence, upon which we cannot stop to enlarge, the evidence derived from the Mss. is important. The first prologue is only contained in a single Ms. of the twelfth century, that in the Public Library at Cambridge, the comparatively late date and unauthentic character of which Mr. Duffus Hardy admits ; while the second is contained in this and at least three other Mss., though, it is true, in a dif- ferent, if not later, handwriting. The twelfth century was a period in which historians emulously affected the graces of style; among the English appeared William of Malmesbury, and among the Britons, or Welsh, Geoffrey of Mon- mouth and Caradoc of Llancarvan ; and it may be conjectiu-ed that the copyist of the Cambridge Ms., finding a prologue written in a bald awkward style, determined to reproduce it under a more ornate and flowing garb, and that to this determination we owe the first prologue. Tlie mistake in the date which the soi-disant author assigns to the composition of this prologue (Mcrvin being named as reigning in Wales in 858 instead of Rodvi), inexplicable if we sup- pose the prologue to be genuine, becomes easily intelligible if we consider it to be a production of the twelfth century.
2. The Historia Britonum is certainly not the work of Gildas, to whom
The Colonisation of Northumbrian 579
Ida, wlio founded the northern kingdom in 547, Nennius makes to have been the ninth in descent from Woden. It is clear, therefore, that in his conception, or rather in that of the Saxon annalist whom he is following, three generations intervened be- tween Seomil and Ida, or, say, about ninety years. Florence of
Malmesbury and Huntingdon ascribe it. Gildas wrote in the middle of the sixth century, when the devastations of the Saxons had not yet in the west of Britain entirely destroyed the Roman culture, nor utterly disorganised the system of education which had prevailed under the empire. Gildas writes like a man whose mind was teeming with thoughts, and who had sufficient intel- lectual resources to find for them copious and not ungraceful forms of expres- sion. Nothing can less resemble the energetic flow of his style than the awkward, hesitating, struggling progress made by the author of the Historia Britonum.
3. There seems no good reason to doubt that Nennius, the writer of the second or original prologue, also wrote the Historia Britonum^ excluding § 66 (we refer to the edition in the Monumenta Historica), but including the genea- logies of the Saxon kings. The style of the second prologue perfectly agrees with that of the history. The genealogies (which contain many historical par- ticulars), though introduced without preface, and not interwoven in any way with the thread of the preceding narrative, do yet in fact fulfil the promise given in the prologue of making use of the ^nnaZ* of the Saxons, in order to augment his stock of information. Section 66 occurs only in the Cambridge Ms., and in others copied from that. It appears to have been inserted by the twelfth-century copyist as an abbreviated substitute for the genealogies, which he omits. He says : " Sed cum inutiles, magistro meo, id est, Beulano presby- tero, visse sunt gcnealogise Saxonum et aliarum gentium, nolui eas scribere." The great antiquity of these genealogies is proved by their occurrence in the valuable Harleian Ms. of the tenth century (3859), which, though it inserts neither prologues nor headings nor author's name, gives the Historia down to the end of § 65 nearly as the Cambridge Ms., and immediately, without any break, appends the genealogies.
4. Assuming the second prologue to be genuine, Nennius, the author of this history, was a disciple of St. Elbotus. Now we know from the Annales Cam- bricE that St. Elbotus died in 809. Probably, therefore, the Historia was composed somewhere within the first forty years of the ninth century. AVe are disposed to assign its composition to the first decade of the century rather than to any later decade for this reason : the latest date traceable in the genealogies is found in the pedigree of the kings of Mercia, where " Egfert son of Otfa" is mentioned. This Egfert died in 794, and was succeeded by Kenwulf, who died in 819. Surely, then, the name of Kenwulf would have been added in the genealogy if it had been written subsequently to his death.
5. What is the historical value of the genealogies? We are disposed to rate it very highly. They are contained, as has been stated, in a Ms. of the tenth century. Assuming them in their present form to have come from Nennius, they were written down early in the ninth century, that is, before the earliest known "redaction" of the Saxon Chronicle was prepared, under the superin- tendence of Archbishop Plegmund. But whether ascribable to Nennius or not, the internal evidence is in favour of their authenticity. For when we come to the mention of such a fact as this, that Edwin, king of Northumbria (617-633) '•seized on Elmete," a district in the West Riding, "and expelled Certic its king," — a fact mentioned neither byBede, nor by the Saxon Chronicle, nor any other annalist, but curiously confirmed, as will be shown in the text presently, by an incidental statement of Bede, — what conclusion is it possible to come to but that the British writer is here quoting the very words used by the Saxon, probably Northumbrian, annalist, whom he is consulting ? For what would a Briton be likely to know about the obscure district of Elmete, the very name of "which is not once mentioned in the Saxon Chronicle, and only once by Bede, and then in a wholly different connection t
VOL. IV. q q
580 The Colonisation of Northumhriai
Worcester also makes Seomil anterior to Ida, — by five genera- tions according to the pedigree of Ida given in his appendix, by- one according to that given in the chronicle. Selecting the account given in Nennins as more historically trustworthy than any other,- we assume that Seomil, an Angle chieftain who lived about the year 460, did really " separate Deira from Bernicia /' by which we understand that, establishing an Angle kingdom to the north of the Humber, and thus destroying the British power in Deira, he effectually separated that province from the still British kingdom of Bernicia.
It is difficult to say what a strange statement is worth, made by the second continuator of Florence of Worcester, a writer of the thirteenth century, to the effect that seven lineal ancestors of Ida reigned in Northumbria before him, of whom Hyring was the first.^ Allowing twenty years for each reign, this would throw back the commencement of the Angle colonisation to the early part of the fifth century. But as these predecessors of Ida were unknown to the earlier authorities, it is impossible to attach much weight to the statement.
Nor can we agree with Lappenberg in adopting the state- ment of Ncnnius,* which is further amplified and developed in the lying pages of Geoffrey of Monmouth, that Hengist obtained from Vortigern, for his sons Octa and Ebusa, the countries in the north near the wall of Severus. The account of the pro- ceedings of Hengist and his followers given in the Saxon Chro- nicle conveys an impression quite at variance with a belief in such a rapid spread of Saxon dominion, at least from a Kentish centre. Seven or eight years after the landing of the invaders in the Isle of Thanet the Britons still held London ;^ and there is not a trace of evidence in the early writers that the Saxons of Kent penetrated far to the north of the Thames. Nennius in this passage is clearly relying on the British, not on the Saxon annals. And we cannot be too much on our guard against the mendacious Celtic imagination, the inventions of which are usually neither vera nor veri-similia. Wounded na- tional vanity and intense hatred of the Saxon (for which, it must be confessed, there was cause enough) induced the British his- torians, from Gildas down to Geoffrey, to ascribe the loss of Britain to two causes — the anger of Heaven against the Britons on account of their sins, and the inexhaustible multitude of bar- barians whom teeming Germany poured, in successive waves of invasion, upon their devoted coasts. It was not that the Saxons were more formidable in war ; on the contrary, whenever there
3 For the reasons given in the foregoing note. » Florence, p. 385 (Bohn's ed.).
4 Hist, Britonum, k 38. * Sax. Chron. an. 457.
The Colonisation of Northumbria. 581
was any thing like an equality of force, the Britons scattered their "doggish"^ foes like chaff. It was that British princes were traitors ; that the supernal powers were wrath ; that as fast as one swarm of invaders was destroyed, another landed. All these being first principles with Celtic historians, history of course must be shaped into accordance with them J Hence arose those wild fictions of which the Hlstoria Byntonum is the earliest extant embodiment, but which, being carried across the Channel to Brittany, were improved by the sea-passage, and hav- ing been worked up into a still more racy History of the Kings of Britain, recrossed the sea in the twelfth century, and were presented to the world as serious history in the Latin transla- tion of Geoffrey of Monmouth.^ How unlike the sturdy veracity of the Saxon chronicler, who, though with pain unutterable, fails not to record, each in its proper place, the many bloody overthrows which his countrymen suffered from the Danes !
But the argument derived from geographical considerations and the names of places has, upon the whole, the greatest force in proof of the very early colonisation of the East Riding. The strip of coast extending from Spurn Point to Flamborough Head, bounded by the sea on the east, and the Holdernesse fen occu- pying the valley of the river Hull on the west, is crowded Avith villages, the names of the great majority of which are pure Anglo-Saxon. Not one in fifteen is Danish. This fact may be taken as indicating that this part of the East Riding was so fully peopled when the Danes began to make settlements on our east- ern coasts, that they were unable to alter the existing names, and found no room to make fresli settlements of their own. That they did alter existing names when they could, is shown in the instances of Derby and Whitby, of which the old Saxon names were Nor^-weor^ig and Streoneshalch. In Lincolnshire, on the other hand, which, as forming part of Mercia, had been colonised from Northumbria, and at a later period, the Saxon settlements must have been comparatively sparse and few even in the ninth century ; for we find that place-names of Danish origin form about two-fifths of the whole number in North Lin- colnshire. Now relative density of population is, under ordi- nary circumstances, a proof of relatively earlier colonisation. The same people that colonised ^lassachusetts colonised the state of Ohio ; but Massachusetts, though its soil is of far in-
s Gildas, § 23.
' Gildas, however, deserves to be almost wholly exempted from this censure.
^ This seems a reasonable account of the matter, the resemblance between the narrative of Nennius and that of Geoifrey being far too close in many places to be the result of accident, and the amplification and embellishment of the work of Xennius with picturesque falsehood to any amount being certain to be a congenial task and labour of love to the Armorican historians.
582 T'he Colonisation of Nortliumhria*
ferior fertility, is much more densely peopled. What is the reason ? Simply that the colonisation of Massachusetts com- menced more than a century and a half before the colonisation of Ohio. The distribution of the Maori population in New Zealand, at the time when it became a British possession, is also a case in point. The unvarying native tradition declares that the ancestors of the present Maories came from the eastward, and made their first settlement at the northern extremity of the northern island. The tradition is confirmed by the fact that, at the date mentioned, the native population of New Zealand, densest in the extreme north, diminished almost regularly in density as you went southward; so that the southern island, though its numerous bays swarmed with fish, and its rocky shores with mussels, and its hill-sides waved with the edible fern, contained no more than a seventieth part of the whole native po- pulation. Similarly, the relatively greater density of the Angle population of the Holdernesse district in the ninth century, proved by the close juxtaposition of the villages, and by the persistence of their old Angle names, is itself a proof that colonisation had commenced in that district at a relatively remote period.
We have, then, two distinct centres of Angle settlement in Britain north of the Humber ; that of Bernicia, radiating from Bebbanburg, or Bamborough, the strong fortress and city on a rock, built by Ida about the middle of the sixth century, and that of Deira, radiating from some unknown point in the East E/iding, the position of which can never be ascertained with certainty. In the time of Seomil it may possibly have been at the Roman station of Petuaria, afterwards Brough, on the Hum- ber, whence a Roman road led to York. In the time of ^lle or Ella (who reigned from 560 to 588), there seems some slight ground for fixing the capital of Deira a little farther inland, where the villages of Kirk Ella and West Ella, which are situ- ated high up on the chalk downs, still perpetuate the name of that king. The examples of Edinburgh (Edwinesburg) and Os- winthorpe, both royal fortresses, the latter a royal residence, show that the kings of Deira were in the habit of calling their strongholds or residences by their own names. As the Angle settlers spread themselves northwards from the Humber, the residence of their kings would also naturally be moved forward from time to time in the same direction. That it was on the Derwent,9 a few miles to the east of York, in the reign of Edwin (617-633), we know for certain from the narrative of Bede.^° That it had previously been at Godmundingham, or Goodman- ham, just at the western edge of the Wolds, may be inferred
^ Without doubt at the Roman city of Derventio, near Stamford Bridge, w Hist Eccl, ii. 9.
The Colonisation of Northumhria,
i33
with some plausibility from the fact recorded by Bede/^ that the principal temple of the old worship, previous to the conversion of King Edwin by Paulinus, stood at that place. The diagram subjoined will make more clear the presumed gradual extension northwards of the Deiran dominion.
Ticroi^Tu
Prom the first landing of the Angles to the final union of Deira and Bernicia under King Oswald, in 642, we shall, so far as possible, treat of the two kingdoms separately. The boundary between them is a disputed point ; some of the chroniclers place it at the Tees, and others at the Tyne. A river, the reader must observe, is not a natural, but a conventional boundary between two tribes or peoples. We hear of no wars of any consequence between Deira and Bernicia, and therefore have no right to assume that the boundaries which nature established between them were disused, in favour of those conventional frontiers which a spirit of compromise suggests. Deira, which undoubt- edly extended to the Tees, would as undoubtedly, in the early times which we are now exploring, include the fertile lands and coteaux on the north bank of that river ; it would embrace the whole of the beautiful Yale of Cleveland. Similarly Bernicia, which certainly extended to the Tyne, would as certainly include the whole Tyne valley, and also the rich level district near the sea, between the mouths of the Tyne and Wear^ which are but seven miles apart. The reader will remember that the twin monasteries of Wearmouth and Jarrow, names which, from their
" Hist. Eccl. ii. 13.
■
584 The Colonisation of Northumbrian
connection Vitli the life of the Venerable Bede, will never be for- gotten while literature endures, stood, one upon the Tyne, the other at the mouth of the Wear. Bernician settlers would also, one can hardly doubt, occupy the lower valley of the Wear. The rest of the county of Durham would be mark-land between the two kingdoms. To the west the county is mountainous ; in the eastern portion, where the coal-measures rise to the surface, the land is by no means inviting for agricultural settlement, and would consequently long remain in the state of a thinly peopled march, mostly covered by the original forest. In this way is to be explained the exaggerated statement of John of Tynemouth,
that in the British times the whole of Durham was one vast forest. 12
In Nennius, Florence, and the Saxon Chronicle, lists^^ of kings are given who reigned in Deira before -^Ue, but we are told nothing more about them. JElle died in 588, leaving a son, Edwin, then two years old ; a regency in some form or other was probably established, which was put down by Ethelfrid about the year 605. Ethelfrid (the ^Edlfred Flesaurs of Nen- nius), whom we know from Bede^* to have been of a Bernician family, and descended from Ida, after having reigned in Bernicia twelve years, is said by Nennius^^ to have reigned twelve years in Deira. This must mean that he overran the Angle settlements in Deira in 605, and had his royal residence for the rest of his reign at Derventio, which we find to have been the capital twenty years later. In 607, according to the Saxon Chronicle, he " led his army to Chester, and there slew numberless Welshmen.^^ Bede also says^^ that he ^^ conquered more territories from the Britons, either making them tributary, or driving the inhabitants
^2 Until the reign of Henry VIII., Erecknockshire and Radnorshire were not considered as counties, but as forming part of the marches of Wales. In that reign they were formed into counties ; and it is noticeable that they, like Durham, are stream-bounded to an extent much beyond -what is usual in Eng- lish counties, and for the same reason, viz. that their boundaries were not determined by the gradual course of natural colonisation, but fixed by states- men in the way most expeditious and convenient.
^3 These genealogies require more examination than they have received. It is singular that in the list given in the Saxon Chronicle, the names of Seomil, the original conqueror of Deira, and Swserta, are omitted, while they are found in both of Florence's lists (under the year 557 and in the Appendix), who usually closely follows the Saxon Chronicle for this early period. Yet Florence is not here following Nennius, whose list, though it contains Seomil, omits Swserta, and has other points of divergence. May not Swajrta be merely an- other name for Seomil, an agnomen, or name of distinction, given to him on account of his feats of arms ; just as a hero of our own times, who had not then performed any feats of arms, was dubbed, or dubbed himself, Meagher of the Sword. What seems to confirm this conjecture is, that Nennius names Sguerthing as the son and successor of Seomil. Now Sguerthing evidently stands for Swaerting (the g in Welsh constantly replacing the English w), and simply means "son of Swajrta."
'4 Hist, EccU iii. 1. "§ 63. ^^ i. 35.
The Colonisation of Nortlmmhria, 585
clean out, and planting Angles in their places, tlian any other king or tribune/^ Taking these statements in connection with each other, and with the further statement of Bede that the next king, Edwin, fitted out fleets which subdued Anglesey and Man, one may safely infer that the Northumbrian kingdom at this time stretched across South Lancashire, and included a part of Cheshire. The port where Edwin fitted out his fleet could have been no other than Chester; for the site of Liverpool was then a dismal swamp, and Chester had been much used as a naval sta- tion by the Romans, and was still so used in the tenth century by Edgar. But this westward extension was a rash and undue one, which could only be maintained against the hostile British population west of the Dee by very energetic rulers, being much in advance of the progress of Angle colonisation. We find, therefore, without surprise, that after the death of Edwin, Ches- ter again fell into the hands of the Britons, and so continued until, in the eighth century, the Mercian kings became strong enough to wrest it from them.
Edwin, son of iElle, returned from exile in 617 at the head of an army supplied to him by E-edwald, king of East Anglia, and in the battle which ensued Ethelfrid was defeated and slain. Edwin and his people were converted to Christianity in 627 by the preaching of Paulinus ; the touching and picturesque parti- culars, so strangely distorted by most of our modern historians, may be read in Bede. One incident we cannot refrain from quoting, on account of the light which it casts on the habits of life of the Angle race ; it occurred at the great council of priests and thanes which Edwin held, in order to debate the question whether the new religion should be embraced. ''Another of the king^s chief men, approving of his words and exhortations, presently added, ' The present life of man, O king, seems to me, in comparison of that time which is unknown to us, like to the swift flight of a sparrow through the room wherein you sit at supper in winter, with your commanders and ministers, and a good fire in the midst, whilst the storms of rain and snow prevail abroad ; the sparrow, I say, flying in at one door, and immedi- ately out at another, whilst he is within is safe from the wintry storm; but after a short space of fair weather he immediately vanishes out of your sight, into the dark winter from which he had emerged. So this life of man appears for a short space ; but of what went before, or what is to follow, we are utterly ignorant. If, therefore, this doctrine contains something more certain, it seems justly to deserve to be followed.^ ''^"^
Paulinus fixed his see at York, probably in deference to the wish expressed by Pope Gregory^^ that London and York, which 17 Hist. Eccl. ii. 13. 18 lb. i. 29.
586 The Colonisation of Northumhria,
had been the chief sees in Roman Britain, should continue, under the new arrangements, to enjoy metropolitan dignity. But York probably lay in ruins at this time, and was in the condition of many other cities once flourishing and adorned with noble build- ings, the prostrate state of which in the sixth century Gildas so pathetically describes ;^^ else why should it have been necessary for Edwin to build the wooden church at York in which he was baptised ? for, under the Romans, Eboracum, as the seat of government, and the chief city in Britain, must have contained many churches of stone. When, however, it had thus been made the religious centre of the Northumbrian kingdom, York soon be- came also the political centre, and we hear of Derventio no more. Edwin, though he reigned but sixteen years, left his mark upon our land and its history by seizing and fortifying the rock looking over and commanding the Frith of Forth, which after him was named Edwinesburg, or Edinburgh ; and also by con- quering the island of Mona, which thenceforth bore the name — at least for Englishmen — of Angles-ey, island of the Angles. It was probably early in this reign that he " seized Elmete, and expelled Gertie its king/'^^ Elmete is supposed by Whitaker to have embraced the lower portions of Airedale and Wharfedale, together with the entire vale of Calder/^^ Gertie, or Geretic, is a British name, and if it be taken as the true name, Elmete must have been one of the British petty kingdoms which Ethelfrid forced to pay him tribute. But " Elmete" has a Saxon rather than a British sound ; and if Gertie be supposed to have been written in error for Gerdic (the reading of some of the later Mss.), then we have an instance of an Angle petty kingdom absorbed by the paramount Angle dynasty. Either supposition will suit the words of Bede, that Edwin "reduced under his dominion all the borders of Britain that were provinces either of the aforesaid nation^' {i. e. of the Northumbrian Angles) " or of the Britons."-^ What a glimpse does this chance mention of the conquest of Elmete give one of an old state of society well nigh lost to history, when Yorkshire was cut up into four or five little kingdoms, struggling for the mastery with each other and with rude nature, the final predominance of one of which caused the fortunes, and almost the names, of the others to be forgotten I Besides Elmete, one may feel certain that Loidis, Gleveland,^ and Graven, had at one time a more or less independent political existence.^*
J» § 24. 20 Nennius, § 63.
2» Whitaker's (T. D.) Loidis and Elmete (folio) ; see also the diagram given above. 22 jj, 9^
23 May not Cleveland be meant by the district of Coetlevum, mentioned by Eddi Stephanus in his Life of St. Wilfrid, eh. xvii. ?
^ See the diagram.
The Colonisation of NortJmmhria, 587
In 633 Edwin was defeated by the allied forces of Penda, the Mercian king, and Cadwalla, king of the Britons, and lost his life in the battle. In the confusion which followed^ Deira and Bernicia were again divided; the former falling to Edwin^s nephew Osric, the latter to Eanfrid, the son of his predecessor Ethelfrid. But before two years had been ended, both these kings had been slain by Cadwalla ; and Oswald, Eanfrid's brother, returning from Scotland, where, during Edwin's reign, he had been forced to live in exile, made his authority recognised in both kingdoms, Cadwalla having been defeated and slain at the battle of Denisesburn. '^ Through this king's management,^' says Bede, " the provinces of the Deiri and the Bernicians — which till then had been at variance — were peacefully united, and moulded into one people/'"^ Nor, although in the reign of Oswy (642-670), Oswin the son of Osric, and after him Ethelwald the son of Os- wald, had a sort of subordinate regal dignity in Deira, were the two countries ever again thoroughly dissevered before the sup- pression of the Northumbrian kingdom.
What we know of Bernicia between the years 547 and 642 may be summed up in very few words. Ida was succeeded by several of his sons, and then by his grandson Ethelfrid in 593, of whom we have already spoken. Paulinus preached to and converted great numbers of the Bernicians at a place called Gefrin ( Yever- ing), near the river Till, in the northern part of Northumber- land ;-^ but being driven out of Northumbria after the death of Edwin, he was unable to take the necessary steps to confirm these converts in the faith; and the effect was so evanescent that, upon the accession of Oswald, Bede expressly states that "no sign of the Christian faith — no church, no altar — was erected throughout all the nation of the Bernicians.'^-'' How the brave and holy king brought Aidan, one of the monks of Hii (lona) from Scotland, and by his means effectually planted Christianity in the country north of the Tees, may be read in Bede. Aidan fixed his see at Lindisfarne, or Holy Isle ; an island lying off the coast of Northumberland, not far from Berwick, This was a central position as regarded Bernicia, which then extended to the Frith of Forth ; and neither Aidan nor Oswald could have anticipated that the see of York, left vacant by the retirement of Paulinus, would not be filled up for more than thirty years. But so it was ; and in consequence the Bishops of Lindisfarne were called upon to act during that interval for the whole of Northumbria ; whence Colman, the third of those Bishops, is named by Eddi Stephanus " episcopus Eboracse civi- tatis.''
From the point at which we have now arrived, it will be more
^ iii. 6. 26 Bede, ii. 14. ^ lb. iii. 2.
588 The Colonisation of NorOmmhria,
convenient to make such observations as may be necessary upon the subsequent history of Northumbria in connection with the following special heads of enquiry; viz. 1. the limits and \icissi- tudes of Angle dominion in what is now Scotland; 2. the struggle between the Britons and Angles in Cumberland and "Westmore- land, and the Norwegian colonisation of those counties ; 3. the mode in which Lancashire was settled ; 4. the rise, growth, and limits of the jurisdiction known as the Franchise of St. Cuthbert. That it will be impossible to treat these matters exhaustively is obvious ; nevertheless, so little has this particular field been tra- versed by our historians and archaeologists, that it wdll be easy to say several things that are both new and true under each of these heads, except perhaps the last.
1. The ordinary impression of most persons, even of those who suppose themselves tolerably well acquainted with our national history, is that in the match of Teuton against Celt the victory lay wholly with the former, — that the Saxon was always on the encroaching and aggressive side, and was never compelled to relinquish what he had once grasped, much less to submit to the rule of Celts. Yet, if the early history of Scotland could be exhibited with any thing like fulness and distinctness of detail, we should all be struck by the marked manner in which this impression, so far as regards North Britain, is contradicted by the facts. In the first place, the very name of the country points to the predominance in it of the Celtic race. If the name "Enofland^^ (Angle-land) betokens the discomfiture of the Celtic inhabitants of Southern Britain before Teutonic invaders coming from the east and north, the name of Scot-land no less clearly intimates the ultimate political ascendancy in Northern Britain of Celtic invaders coming from the south and west — an ascend- ancy obtained in spite of the most strenuous efforts of the Angles to extend and consolidate their conquests beyond the Tweed. What these efforts were, and how they were frustrated, we shall now endeavour to show.
At what time Angle settlers first began to colonise the eastern shores of Scotland it is now impossible to ascertain. But that as early as the time of Ida (547) a considerable mass of Angle population must have been settled north of the Tweed, may be reasonably inferred from his choosing a place so far north as Bamborough for the seat of his government. The eastern counties of the Lowlands were at this time occupied by Picts, whom the new-comers either dispossessed or made tribu- taries. Dumfriesshire, or at any rate the basin of the Nith,^ was also Pictish. Lanarkshire, Renfrewshire, and Dumbarton- shire as far as Alcluid (afterwards Dumbarton), — in other words, » Bede, Vita -S. Cuth. ch. xi.
llie Colonisation of Northumhria. 589
almost the entire basin of the Clyde, — formed the kingdom of the Strath-clyde Britons. These Britons probably established themselves here at the time when the Roman dominion was un- questioned as far as the wall of Antoninus ; and protected by their natural boundaries of rugged mountain-ranges, and by the obstacle which their fortress of Alcluid, placed behind a deep river flowing out of Loch Lomond, presented to an invader from the north-west, they were able to hold their ground when that dominion was forced backward, and the stream of Scoto-Pictish invasion, leaving the little kingdom safe in its midst, overflowed the more assailable regions of Southern Britain. The south- western district — Ayrshire and Galloway — is said to have been inhabited by a mixed population of Scots and Picts.29 The Scots, whose seat was Argyleshire and the coasts and islands farther north, came unquestionably froi^i Ireland. They are said by the Scottish annalists to have sailed from Dalreutha in Ulster, and landed on the western shore of Scotland in 503, under the leadership of Fergus.''^ The residence of their kings for many generations was Dunstafthage Castle, near Oban.
We hear of no efibrts on the part of the Scots to rescue the Picts from the extermination with which they were threatened by the Angle race. But when the Britons, who then perhaps occupied not only Cumberland and Westmoreland, but also the western part of Northumberland, were hard pressed by Ethel- frid, and great numbers of them dislodged or made tributaries, J^dan, who then reigned over the Scots inhabiting Britain, made a vigorous but unsuccessful diversion in their favour. Whether he brought his army by sea, or through Ayrshire, or ■was allowed by the Strath-clyde Britons to pass through their territory, we are not told. But thus much may be held as cer- tain, that he entered Cumberland in 603, met the Angle army at Dalston,^^ near Carlisle, and, after a bloody contest, was com- pletely defeated. From this time down to his own day, no Scottish king, says Bede, had ventured to lead an army against the Angles.
Gradually the Picts were driven westward and northw^ard by the stronger race. There seems no reason to doubt the correct- ness of the tradition which assigns the foundation of Edinburgh to Edwin, between the years 617 and 633. Before 650 the Angles
^ Scott's Hist, of Scotland, ch. i. so ib.
3' Degsa-stan, Bede, i. 34, and Florence sub anno ; Doegsan-stane, Sax. Chron. It has been conjectured thatDawston, near Jedburgh, is intended. Had ^dan been bringing aid to the Picts, this might have been so ; but an ally of the Bri- tons could do them no good by entering Pictish territory, which the vale of Teviot then was. Yet it is hard to see how Degsa-stan could be corrupted into Dalston.
590 The Colonisation of Northumhria,
had pushed up the valley of the Tweed as far as Melrose ; and thenceforward a line of English abbots governed the famous monastery which had been founded there by Scottish monks from lona.^- After Oswy's victory over Penda king of Mercia in G55, Bede informs us that he brought under his dominion the greater part of the Pictish nation. Whether or not he pushed his con- quests beyond the Frith of Porth, we cannot certainly tell ; but it seems probable that he did.
It was under Egfrid (670-685) that the Angle kingdom pene- trated farthest into Scotland, at least on the eastern side. So firmly did it seem to be established to the south of the Frith of Forth, that in 681 Trumwine was appointed by Archbishop Theodore to be Bishop "in the province of the Picts," and fixed his see at the monastery of Abercorn, a few miles to the west of Edinburgh.^^ Egfrid led an army into Forfarshire in 685 against Burdei, king of the Picts, with the intention apparently of es- tablishing Angle supremacy along the whole eastern coast ; but fortune failed him, and with a sudden collapse the Angle king- dom shrank back within limits which it was never afterwards to exceed. The Picts slew Egfrid, and nearly destroyed his army among the hills of Forfarshire. The victors pressed on in pur- suit into the Lothians, and all the Angle colonists who could not take refuge in fortresses had to flee for their lives. Bishop Trumwine and his monks were included in the herd of fugitives ; and the former, sickened, it would seem, of missions among the Picts, retired to Abbess Hilda^s monastery at Streoneshalch. It may be conjectured that the castled rock of Edinburgh, and per- haps one or two other strong places, remained to the Angles as isolated points in the midst of a country generally lost to them. Nor were they dislodged from the valley of the Tweed ; for the succession of Angle abbots at Melrose continues unbroken, and King Aldfrid, Egfrid's successor, used, as Bede incidentally men- tions,^* to pay occasional visits to those parts, which are mani- festly spoken of as still forming part of his dominions. Yet the same unimpeachable witness expressly declares that Aldfrid, though he retrieved matters a good deal, had his kingdom
32 Eata, an Angle, was, according to Florence, abbot of Melrose in 651. He was a boy (Bede, iii. 26) when Aldan first became Bishop of Lindisfarne in 635. His appointment to Melrose, therefore, could not have occurred much, if at all, before 650, in which year he would not have been more than thirty, even if we suppose him to have been fifteen years of age in 635. Now Eata must have been the first Angle abbot of Melrose, because before 635 the whole Bemician nation was Pagan. Before him, the abbots were Scottish, and would certainly so have continued, had not Melrose fallen, somewhere about the date supposed, into the hands of the Angles, when the change of temporal rulers brought with it, as almost invariably happened in those days, a change in the spiritual rulers.
» Hist. Eccl. iv. 12. ** lb. v. 12.
The Colonisation of Northumhria. 591
'^ within narrower bounds" than his predecessor. Probably the Picts were stopped at the pass of Cockburnspath, in Berwick- shire— a position which might easily be held by a few resolute men against a greatly superior force.
But Bede, with his calm steady procedure, his English vera- city, his saintly simplicity, his openness of mind and fulness of Ivuowledge, fails us, alas, too soon, and an impenetrable darkness falls over the state of society in the eastern Lowlands for about a century and a half. AVith regard to Ayrshire and the north coast of the Solway, we retain some glimmerings of light down to a later time. Between the battle of Degsa-stan and the defeat of Egfrid (603-685) Lugubalia, or Carlisle, must have become a completely Angle city; and we cannot doubt that it served as the chief port and depot for the Northumbrian kings in their opera- tions in the Solway or against Ireland. Hence, or perhaps from the mouth of the Derwent, must have sailed the fleet w^hich Egfrid sent on an unjust raid against Ireland in 684 Hence also must have radiated those colonising operations which planted Angle settlements thickly on the whole Scottish coast, from the head of the Solway round to the Erith of Clyde. The mere fact that these settlements (as the present nomenclature of places proves^^) did not extend in general very far from the coast, shows that the settlers came either by sea or round the head of the Erith. The rugged mountains which form the watershed between the basin of the Tweed and Teviot and tlie country sloping to the Solway, must have presented great difficulties in the way of the westward progress of Angle colonisation overland; but by the occupation of Carlisle, and its employment as a port, these difficulties were overcome, or rather turned. Rapidly must this new field have been taken up. Already, in 696, Cuning- ham, the northern district of Ayrshire, was reckoned a province of Northumbria.^'' In 750 the plain of Kyle, the central dis- trict of Ayrshire, was added by Eadbert, the then king of Nor- thumhria, to his dominions.37 The increasing numbers of the colonists had led, about the year 727, to the erection of a bishopric in Galloway, at Whitherne or Candida Casa, where St. Ninias had formerly preached to the Picts, of which Pech- thelm was the first Bishop.^^ In 756 Eadbert, probably on ac-
35 e. g. Rothwell and Dalton, in Dumfriesshire ; Soutliwiek, Berwick, and Tvviueham, in Kirkcudbrightshire ; Whitherne, Wigton, and Glasserton, in AVigtonshire ; and Prestwick, Monkton, Fenvvick, &c., in Ayrshire. From, these Angle names it is easy to distinguish the later Scandinavian names of places, ending in by, garth, &c,, which resulted from Danish or Norwegian occupation ; and also the Celtic names, with their characteristic prefixes, Dal, Auchin, Knock, Bal, Glen, Ben, Caer, &c.
3« Bede, v. 12.
37 Auctarium, Bede. 35 -Qq^q y. 23,
592 The Colonisation of Northumhria,
count of annoyances whicli the settlers in Cuningham or Een- frewshire had received from tlie Strath-clyde Britons, led an army, in which Unust, king of the Picts, was present as his ally, against Alcluid. The Britons, we are told, came to terms with him.39
We have now reached the climax of Northumbrian power. Disaster soon after fell on the western, no less than on the east- ern settlements. Ethelwald Moll, then king of Northumbria, did indeed gain a great victory near Melrose in 761;*° but the failure of the line of Angle Bishops at Whitherne, towards the beginning of the ninth century, "^^ is a certain proof that the Scots about that time made themselves masters of Galloway. The re- covery of Carlisle by the Britons was probably connected in some way with that disaster.
In 839 the famous Scottish king, Kenneth II., drove the Angles out of Melrose, and destroyed the monastery which had educated St. Cuthbert. In 842 the same monarch defeated and slew in Perthshire Wrad, the last king of the Picts, who thence- forward are identified in history with the Scots. The power of the Northumbrians, whose proneness to treason, perjury, mur- der, and rebellion during the last fifty years of their national existence called forth the anger and contempt of Charlemagne^'*' constantly decreased, and the Scottish monarchy became more consolidated. Our annalists are careful indeed to record that the great English kings of the tenth century, Athelstan, Edred, and Edgar, exercised a paramount and admitted sovereignty over the kings of Scotland ; but, if the fact be true, it is of little consequence. The surrender of Cumberland by Edmund in 945, after he had conquered it, to Malcolm, the Scottish king, is a much more significant circumstance; for it shows Scotland en- croaching upon Northumbria, instead of Northumbrians making conquests in Scotland. At what time the Lothians and Ber-- wickshire were lost, we can nowhere find recorded. Scottish history informs us that " Eadulf Cudel, earl of Northum- berland, in 1020 ceded to the Scottish king [Malcolm II.] the rich district of Lothene or Lothian,^^-*^ with other terri- tories; but no contemporary writer states this; and the Earl of Northumbria in 1020 was not Eadulf Cudel, but Eric. However, it appears from the Saxon Chronicle, that in 1091 the Lothians, though still considered as in " Engla-land'' (for the Frith of Forth was considered even in the thirteenth cen-
39 Sim. Dun. de Gestis Reg. Angl. ^ lb.
••' See the list given in the Appendix to Florence. Beadulph, the last Bishop but one, was living in 796. Of the last of all, Heathored, we can discover abso- lutely nothing.
« Will. Malrasb. i. 3. « Scott's Hist of Scotland, ch. ii.
The Colonisation of Northumhria, 593
tuiy as tlie boundary between the Scots and the Angles),"** yet formed part of the Scottish king's dominions ; and it seems probable that the whole eastern Lowlands, except perhaps a few isolated strongholds, had been lost to Northumbria in the ninth century, although the Angle inhabitants had not been dispossessed.
2. Little can be securely ascertained respecting the early state of Cumberland. The name, which points to the Cymry, the same root which is found in the word Cambria, together with geographical considerations, would be sufficient to prove, with- out any other testimony, that the British inhabitants of the north of England, driven across the high dividing range which parts the valleys trending east and west by the Angle invaders, long held their ground in the valleys of the Eden and Derwent, and among the mountains of the Lake district. But the Angles followed them up ; and, after fully settling the valley of the south Tyne, would naturally be induced, following w^here the Eoman wall, scaling the dividing range, seemed to invite them onwards, to cross over and try their fortune upon the streams that flowed to the Eden. If Degsastan be identified with Dalston, near Car- lisle, there can be no doubt that, even in the time of Ethelfrid (593-617), the Angle kings compelled the Britons in Cumber- land to pay them tribute, even if they had not dispossessed them of their lands. Whether this displacement occurred under Ethelfrid, or Edwin, or Oswald, or Oswy, we do not know. That it was accomplished some time before 685 is certain, for at that time Lugubalia, or Luel, as the Angle colonists called it, was a thoroughly Angle city ; in a convent within its walls dwelt a sister of Egfrid's queen ; it was included within the circuit of St. Cuthbert^s episcopal visitations ; monasteries were springing up in the neighbourhood, and priests required to be ordained for the wants of the district. ^^ And from the fact that the hermit Herebert, whose name attests his Angle nationality, was at this time living peaceably on the island in Derwent Water, which to this day bears his name, it may be inferred, with considerable probability, that the vale of Keswick, if not the whole valley watered by the Derwent, was in the possession of the Angles. That St. Bega founded about this time her monastery in Cope- land, south of Whitehaven (whence the neighbouring promon- tory bears the name of St. Bees Head), is a tradition preserved in Leland^s Collectanea^ but not vouched for by any ancient
^ Florence (Bohn's ed.), p. 386.
*•' Bede, Vita S. Cuthb. ch. xxvii. xxviii. There is not the slightest doubt that these were Angle monasteries and priests. Those were not the times when Britons and Angles could live peaceably together on equal terms, even within convent walls.
594* The Colonisation of Northumhria*
author. Yet there is little reason to doubt it ; for the later priory of St. Bees, founded early in the twelfth century by WilUam de INIeschiens, was avowedly a re-foundation of an old institution which had been destroyed by the Dartes ; so that the original foundation must at any rate be thrown back beyond the year 800, at about which time the descents of the Danish pirates began. How long Carlisle and the country round it remained in the possession of the Angles, we cannot tell. After the great defeat of Egfrid in 685, " some of the Britons regained their liberty,"*^ which they still enjoyed at the time of Bede's death. This probably refers to the mountainous district of South Cum- berland, where the Angle power must have been weakest and the Britons most numerous. From 685, then, we may safely assume that a small British state existed in Cumberland, which gradually increased its limits as the decline of the Northumbrian king- dom became more marked. But it is impossible to believe that the Angles lost Carlisle and North Cumberland till a much later date. While Angle kings were leading victorious expeditions in Ayrshire and on the Clyde, they must have had a secure base of operations somewhere ; and that base, as we have already shown, must have been North Cumberland. But when the Northumbrian state was convulsed by every kind of political and social disorder, until in 827, not through his strength but its own weakness, it submitted to the rule of Egbert of Wessex ; when the settlements on the north shore of the Solway were overrun by the Scots and Picts; — then we may reasonably conjecture that Carlisle was taken by the Britons, and held by them until their final expulsion from Cumberland in the tenth century. If it had remained Angle, "VVhitherne could easily have been recovered from the Scots by a people having the command of the Solway, in which case the l)ishopric would have been reestablished ; but it never was reestablished : therefore we infer that Carlisle was lost to the Angles near the time when Galloway was lost, or about the beginning of the ninth century.
In the ninth century we can predicate just two facts of Cum- berland, which, perhaps, are but one. Ethelwerd, a writer of the tenth century, says that the Danish leader Halfdene, after occupying the lands about the Tyne in 875, made frequent wars on the Picts and the men of Cumberland.*'^ Florence of Wor- cester, under the year 1092, speaking of the rebuilding of Car- lisle in that year by order of William Rufus, says that it had been destroyed about 200 years before by the Danes, and had
<« Eccl Hist iv. 26.
^"^ This seems more probable than the statement in the Saxon Chronicle, that the Strath-clyde Britons were the object of attack.
The ColonisafJon of Northimhria, 595
lain in ruins ever since. It seems probable that tins destruction was effected in one of Halfdene's raids.
The tenth century, as we dimly see through the loopholes of occasional notices in intermittent annals, must for Cumberland and Westmoreland have been a period full of change, marked by the migration and substitution of races. The British state main- tained its de facto independence till the middle of the century ; though, if Malmesbury is to be believed, the great Athelstan received at Dacor (Dacre, near Penrith), in 926, the submission of the British king of Cumberland, Eugenius or Ewen. In 945 Edmund, the brother of Athelstan, led an army northwards by. Windermere and the vale of the R-otha, and encountered the British forces, under their king Dunmail, at the pass upon the Cumberland border leading over from Grasmere to Keswick. The Britons were defeated, and Dunmail was killed; his bones are said still to rest under tlie gray heap of stones to the left of the road. Wordsworth, in his poem of '- The Waggoner,'^ has these lines :
" They now have reached that pile of stones Heaped over bi-ave King Dunmail 's bones ; He who had once supreme command, Last king of rocky Cumberland ; — His bones, and those of all his power, Slain here in a disastrous hour."
As the existing population of Cumberland and Westmoreland shows no trace whatever of Celtic descent, it has been conjec- tured that the remnant of Britons still occupying the country were transported after this victory, some to Wales, and others to the Isle of Man. But Edmund was in no condition to take the government of Cumberland into his own hands. Northumbria, owing to the large Danish element which its population now con- tained, was in a state absolutely chaotic ; and the best thing that could be done was to place Cumberland under the protection of the rising kingdom of the Scots. Yet we are forced to believe that this protection amounted to very little, for not a single fact in illustration of it is related by the old writers ; nor is it likely that Carlisle would have remained in ruins had the Scots really had a firm hold of the country, William of Malmesbury^^ men- tions Duncan (the King Duncan of Shakespeare's Macbeth) by the title of king of Cumbria ; by which is probably meant that in the lifetime of his grandfather, the powerful Malcolm II., Duncan reigned as viceroy in Cumberland.
What became of this part of England after the fall of the British state ? The question has lately, at least in part, been satisfactorily answered in an excellent little work. The Northmen
« Book ii. oh. 13. VOL. IV. r r
596 The Colonhation of Northumbria.
in Cumberland and Westmoreland, by Mr. Robert Ferguson. Mr. Ferguson's theory, which he supports almost entirely by argu- ments drawn from the existing names of places in the Lake dis- trict, is that after the Britons were driven out, and when the Scots showed no intention of recolonising the country, Norwegian settlers coming from the Isle of Man, and perhaps from other coasts and islands farther north, and landing in the entrances of the estuaries of the rivers running into Morecambe Bay or on the Cumberland coast, gradually settled themselves in most of the mountain valleys, and partially occupied the plains to the north and east. We refer the reader to the work itself for the proofs of this theory. The process was going on, Mr. Ferguson thinks, during the last forty or fifty years of the tenth century. Hence it is that so many names, and endings of names, in the Lake dis- trict have a distinctively Norwegian and riow-Danish significa- tion. Even the particular district in Norway from which these settlers came can be pointed out ; it was the Telle-marken, that grand and desolate region where rise the mountains of the Hard- anger-feld. For in this district, alone or chiefly, are several words and parts of words found which are of common occurrence in the Lake district. Such are, -thwaite (as in Sea-thwaite, Bir-thwaite, E/Os-thwaite), of which the Norwegian form is thveit, a clearing in the forest; Scale (as in Scale-hill, Scale-force, &c.), which in old Norse is sJcdlij a log-hut ; -garth (as in Apple-garth, Cal-garth, Ho-garth), corresponding to the old Norse gardr, an enclosure.
In the year 1000, we learn from the Saxon Chronicle that Ethelred ravaged nearly all Cumberland. Ethelred's great ene- mies were the Danes. This notice, therefore, seems to agree with, the conclusion to which independent considerations would lead us, that the population of Cumberland was at this time mainly Danish or Norwegian.
There is not a gleam of light from this point on to the Nor- man Conquest. William I. granted Cumberland (with the excep- tion of a few manors in the extreme south-west of the country) to Ranulph dc Meschiens, considering, it would seem, that Mal- colm III., king of Scotland, by making war upon him and aiding the disaffected English, had forfeited his right to the country .**9 The grant included also that part of Westmoreland which is geo- graphically connected with Cumberland, namely, the basin of the upper Eden, of which Appleby is the natural capital. Ranulph reserved for himself Englewood Forest and the parts adjoining, " a goodly great forest, full of woods, red deer and fallow, wild swine, and all manner of wild-beasts,'' and granted to his brother William the barony of Copeland, bounded by the Duddon, the Derwent, and the sea. Not that the Scottish kings gave up their ^^ Nicolson and Burn's Hist, of Cumberland and Westmoreland.
The Colonisation of Northimhria* 597
rights in Cumberland without a struggle. Taking advantage of the confusion caused by a disputed succession, David !._, in the second year of Stephen, 1136, seized upon Carlisle and other places, and meeting Stephen at Durham, obtained from him for his son Henry the concession of the earldom of Cumberland, Henry doing homage for the same. Cumberland, with the north-eastern half of Westmoreland, remained during the rest of Stephen's reign in the hands of the Scottish kings ; but Henry II. soon after his accession compelled Malcolm IV., the grandson and successor of David, to surrender it.*''^ The cus- tody of the county and its castles seems to have remained from this time in the royal hands; that is, no earl was ap- pointed j but some powerful baron in the county (the barons of Gilsland seem to have been particularly favoured in this way) was appointed sheriff of Cumberland and governor of the royal castle of Carlisle, which was for many centuries an im- portant border fortress. The portion of Westmoreland which had hitherto gone with Cumberland was granted by King John to Robert de Veteripont, as a distinct barony and sheriffwick, in the year 1204'. Thus was Westmoreland severed from Cumber- land, and the latter finally reduced within those boundaries which it has at the present day.
Of Westmoreland the early history is extremely obscure. Geographically it falls into two separate territories ; the north- eastern district, or " bottom of Westmoreland,^' which is the basin of the upper Eden, and the south-western district, which consists of the basin of the Ken and that of the upper Lune. The obvious meaning of the name is " the land of the western moors," which, considering the physical aspect of the surface, is intelligible enough. Still, as the word is said to be spelt in nearly all ancient documents Westmer-land,^^ it is possible that the central syllable is the word mere, a border, and that the true meaning is " the land of the western marches." The geo- graphical attributes that have been mentioned go far to explain the early political history of the county. The north-eastern dis- trict, di-ained by the Eden, went with Cumberland ; the south- western, with Yorkshire. This last assertion will perhaps puzzle the reader ; yet it can be easily explained. Yorkshire comprised the whole valley of the Lune till long after the Conquest ; and between the lower Lune and the basin of the Ken there is a perfectly easy and short communication. There is but one men- tion of Westmoreland in the Saxon Chronicle, and that is suffi- ciently enigmatical. "This year [966] Thored, Gunner's son,
^ John and Rich, of Hexham, quoted by Lingard.
*• Hist, of Cumb. and Westm., by Nicolson and Bum, i. 1. In the Saxon Chronicle, however, an. 966, the name is Westmoringa-land.
598 The Colonisation of Northumhria,
ravaged Westmoreland/' It T\ould be idle to found conjectures upon so narrow a substratum as this. All that can be said is, that it refers to the north-eastern district alone, since the coun- try round Kendal was not then deemed part of Westmoreland, and that it seems to indicate an inroad either of Danes or Nor- wegians. The first Teutonic population of the county was Angle, as many names of places indicate,^- and entered it, as the dis- tribution of those names seems to show, partly from Cumber- land, up the valleys of the Eden and Eamont, partly from York- shire, either by the Roman road leading over Stainmoor down upon Brough, or upw^ards from the valley of the Lune. But a second and stronger wave of Teutonic population was Scandina- vian, partly Danish and partly Norwegian, as the numerous -bys and -thwaites, -kirk and castor, instead of church and cester — and many other names — indicate. To the mountain district of West- moreland, and all that part of the county included between Win- dermere and the Ken, the remarks already made respecting the Norwegian immigration into Cumberland in the tenth century are equally applicable.
The country round Kendal and Kirkby Lonsdale, as well as North Lancashire, was included at the time of the Domesday survey in Evrvicshire, or Yorkshire.^"* It was a distinct barony, however, having been granted by the Conqueror to Ivo de Taille- bois, one of his Norman knights. The north-eastern district, as already explained, was granted, along with Cumberland, to Ranulf de Meschiens. For many generations the barons of Kendal exercised independent jurisdiction. Enthroned in their strong castle (the ruins of which still crown their grassy hill), overlooking the church-town of the vale of Ken (Kirkby Ken- dal), their little dominion reaching on one side to the sea, and on the other engirdled by the coronal of mountains and lofty moors which hold the fountains of the Ken and its tributary streams, they must have known little, and cared less, about the fortunes of Appleby and Brough. The origin of the county of West- moreland, as the term is now understood, dates from a legal decision given in 1227, in a suit between AVilliam de Lancaster, eighth baron of Kendal, and Robert de Yeteripont, the newly- appointed sheriff of Westmoreland. The sheriff claimed that his writs should run in the barony, and that the baron and his tenants should make suit to his county-court at Appleby. These claims were resisted by William of Lancaster; but the cause was
^' e.g. Askham, Bampton, Dufton, Win ton, Wharton, Heversham, Preston, Middleton, Hutton, &c.
" Corry, in his History of Lancashire (vol. ii. p. 1), translates Evrvicshire by Everwickshire^ a county of which he may claim to be the first and sole dis- coverer.
The Colonisation of Northumhria, 599
given against him, with the proviso that the king's itinerant justices were to try pleas touching his tenants at Kendal, if so required. Thenceforward, the county-court for the Kendal and Appleby districts being one, the county of Westmoreland was luiderstood to include the barony within its limits. These limits have ever since remained substantially the same, though part of Avhat is now Lancashire was included in the county down to the reign of Henry YII., and the exact border on the side of York- shire Avas disputed in many places so lately as forty years ago.^*
3. An almost incredible amount of nonsense has been writ- ten about Lancashire. Whitaker, the w^ell-known historian of ^Manchester, whose investigations into the Roman antiquities of the county w ere really nseful and fruitful, seemed to lose all his sagacity when he came to the Saxon times ; and succeeding antiquaries have emulated or surpassed him in extravagance. He quietly assumed that, since the south of England, or at any rate Wessex, was divided into shires towards the end of the seventh century, therefore there was a shire of Lancaster at the same period. "About 680^^ was the date he fixed on for the formation of his imaginary shire. But a Lancaster- shire implies a capital named Lancaster ; ergo, Lancaster was the capital of the shire in the seventh century. Such, without exaggeration, is the sub- stance of Whitaker^s reasoning on this matter.^^ Corry,^^' Brit- ton and Brayley, and even Mr. Edward Baines,^'^ follow in the same track. Corry assumes that a " Loncaster-scyre," — he is evidently punctilious about the orthography, — was at any rate formed by Alfred, if not earlier ; and the same notion, together with the word, is taken up by Mr. Baines.
But this hypothesis, when pressed, is found to be absolutely baseless. Na such political unit as Lancashire was in existence, by that or any other name, for at least two generations after the Conquest. In the Saxon times this territory always formed part of Northumbria; it must have been regarded as a sort of out- lying province of Deira, lying beyond the western moor-hills, full of swamps, mosses, forests, and high hills, and only in places lierc and there repaying the trouble of tillage. To this day little more than one-fourth of the surface of the county is said to be under the plough.^^ AVhen Domesday Book w^as compiled, the southern portion was considered to be in some way attached to Cheshire, while all thp northern parts were comprehended in Yorkshire. Thi" wni be more fully explained presently.
That the Teutonic colonisation of this part of England was
'"^ See Hodgson's large map of Westmoreland.
'■' Hist, of Manchester, ii. 122. ^ Hist, of Za7icashire, 1825.
^' Hist, of Count?/ and Duchy of Lancaster ^ 1836.
^^ Lewis's Topogr. Diet.
600 The Colonisation of JSorthumbria,
carried on from the eastward, there can be no reasonable doubt. No mention or trace of any landing of Saxons, Angles, or North- men on the Lancashire coast is to be found any where. Nor is it likely that any part of the county, except a mere fringe along its southern border, was peopled from Cheshire. Cheshire was not firmly held by the Mercian kings till after the middle of the eighth century; nor would the Northumbrian kings, until the Danish descents had weakened their power, have allowed Mer- cian settlers to encroach upon their territories. For that Lan- cashire was from the earliest times deemed part of Northumbria, seems placed beyond a doubt by the express statements in the Saxon Chronicle (an. 798, 923) that Whalley and Manchester were both in that kingdom.
Assuming, then, that the first Teutonic immigrants came from the eastward, — from Yorkshire, — on what lines did their colonising operations proceed ? Considerations partly historical, partly geographical, enable us to answer the question with some confidence. To the Angles of Deira the natural approaches to Lancashire must have been three : 1. the Aire valley as high as Cold Coniston, thence across the low watershed to the Ribble, near Long Preston, and so down that river; 2. the same route as far as Long Preston, thence across the easy pass in the hills, now traversed by the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway, to the valley of the Wenning, and down that river to the Lune ; 3. the Koman road (Iter VI. in Richard of Cirencester's Itinerary) leading from York by Tadcaster and Slack (Cambodunum), over the dividing range near Saddleworth, down upon Manchester, and on to Chester. The two first routes, besides that they evaded the difficulty of crossing the bleak and barren wastes of moor- land which form the greater part of the boundary between Lan- cashire and Yorkshire, and presented the advantage of successive eligible locations along the whole route, led also to the most fertile portions of Lancashire, Ribbledale and Lonsdale. That by these routes the county received the bulk of its Angle popu- lation, we see little reason to doubt. The third route was pro- bably most used for military purposes. From the mention by Bede of the victory of Ethelfrid over the Britons near Chester in 607, it may be inferred that he must have led his army across South Lancashire; and it seems highly probable that he took advantage of the Roman road by Slack, which would lead him nearly in a direct line to the point he aimed at, and the firm construction of which must have made it even then, in spite of winter storms and the neglect of two centuries, passable by help of slight repairs to an Angle army and its slender baggage-train.
Before the Conquest only two historical events are recorded as occurring in Lancashire; the notices of these are found in the
The Colonisation of Northumhria. 601
Saxon Chronicle and in Simeon of Durliam. In 798 a battle was fought near Whalley, a place on the Calder, a tributary of the Kibble, between Eardulf king of Northumbria, and a rebel force headed by Wada, the chief among the conspirators who had murdered King Ethelred two years before. The conspira- tors had apparently taken refuge in this remote part of the king- dom, and Eardulf was advancing upon them out of Yorkshire. Wada was completely defeated. It is also recorded that in the year 923 King Edward, the son of Alfred, sent a force of Mer- cians to " Manige-ceaster^^ (Manchester) in Northumbria, to repair and garrison the place. This was part of the wise policy which Edward steadily pursued, to curb the turbulence of the Danish population in the north of England by estabhshing for- tresses at different places, garrisoned by those on whose fidelity he could rely. Manchester had probably been laid in ruins in the course of one of the Danish Halfdene^s devastating raids, soon after the accession of Alfred.
There is no reason to doubt that the existing boundary 4ine between Cheshire and Lancashire coincides as nearly as possi- ble with the southern boundary of the Northumbrian kingdom. This, then, would appear to be an instance of the abandonment of the principle of natural boundaries, since the Mersey, which di- vides the counties, is, above Warrington, a fordable river. But there was another principle which seems to have had no little power in the breast of an Anglo-Saxon, and to have modified in this and other cases his adherence to the first principle; — we mean his unfeigned respect for the imperial race whose traces he found every where preexisting in Britain. Thus we read that the townspeople of Lugubalia (Carlisle) took a pride in showing to St. Cuthbert the beautiful Roman remains in their city.^9 The Saxons loved to preserve Roman names of places, though gene- rally in a corrupt form ; and wherever they found traces of a Roman encampment, they took care to consign the fact to per- petual remembrance by embodying the Latin word castra in the name of the town or village which grew up on the spot. There is every reason to believe that this was their practice Avhile yet pagans ; Lege-ceaster (Chester), which was threatened by the pagan Ethelfrid in 607, must have been so named by the Angles before Christianity had penetrated so far north ; and Wintan- cestir (Winchester) and Rhofes-cestir (Rochester) are spoken of by Bede^^ in such a manner as to make one conclude that they were already so named when first chosen as bishops' sees. When, with Christianity, the Latin language and some acquaintance with ancient history and literature were introduced, these reve- rential feelings for what was Roman must naturally have been
53 Bede, Vita S. Cuthb. ch. xxvii. ^ Hist Eccl. iii. 7 and ii. 3.
602 The Colonisation of Northumhria,
deepened. Again^ in view of the strong instinct of all colonising races, but especially of the Teutonic race, to extend their settle- ments and their administrative systems until stopped by the natural barriers of seas and mountains, it is not easy to explain the adoption of the Thames as the boundary between Wessex and Mercia, except by supposing that the Saxons designed thereby to sanction and perpetuate a Roman arrangement, in virtue of which that river had formed the dividing line between Britannia Prima and Flavia Csesariensis. Similarly, the know- ledge that under the Romans the Mersey had formed the boun- dary on the west between Flavia and Maxima Caesariensis pro- bably induced the Angles of Northumbria and Mercia to acqui- esce in that conventional frontier.
For the Britons, on the other hand, both Angles and Saxons seem to have felt such unmeasured aversion and contempt, that they tried to sweep all trace of them from the face of the land. Even the holy and venerable man in whom the Angle race reached its culminating point in history, suffers his pen to wan- der into expressions of unusual harshness when his subject is the "impious'^ and "perfidious" race of the Britons. All British names of places seem to have been designedly repudiated by the new-comers, and, so far as they could effect it, consigned to ob- livion. Except in Cornwall and the counties bordering on Wales, there are but very few^ cases of a town or village bearing a dis- tinctively British name to be pointed out on the map of Eng- land; and one of the obvious exceptions, Carlisle (Caer-leol), goes far to prove the theory supported in our remarks on Cumber- land, viz. that the Britons recovered Carlisle from the Angles, arid held it for a long period. For the Angle name was Luel ; and the Celtic Caer would never have been prefixed to it, had the place remained uninterruptedly in Angle hands.
A glance at the Domesday record shows that, before it was compiled, Lancashire had had a long and eventful history, though it is irretrievably lost for us. All the principal kinds of human activity, mechanical, political, and spiritual, had there been exer- cised, and had transmuted the wilderness into a land of tilth, meadow, and hill-pasture, studded with communities of men who had " called the lands after their own «iiames.^^ How sug- gestive, how eloquent to the imagination, are the mere names of the villages as they stand in the old record ! How do the few meagre statistics about them, set down in the curtest and most matter-of-fact way, set one thinking, and reconstructing in one's mind the form of English society as it was by Irwell-side or under Pendle Hill eight hundred years ago ! Salford was then a bigger place than Manchester. Lancaster was merely one '' vill'' amongst many, and apparently not the most considerable.
The Colonisation of Nor thumb ria. 603
appertaining to tlic manor of Halton, a village higher up the Lunc. Preston was a place of great importance, — a manor that had been held by Tosti earl of Northumbria, brother of Ha- rold, the last of the Saxon kings, to uhich sixty-tvro " vills" in the district of Amouuderness (i. e. speaking roughly, the country between the Kibble and the Lune) are enumerated as belonging. Out of these, however, — so great had been the confusion and insecurity in Northumbria during the last two centuries, — only sixteen were inhabited at the time of the survey, and that by few persons only ; the rest lay waste — '^reliqua sunt wasta/^
All the southern part of Lancashire included between the ^Jersey and the llibblc (terra inter Ripe et Mersham) was in some way attached to Cheshire at the date of the survey. For in the chapter relating to Cheshire, when, according to the usual practice of the compilers of Domesday, after the statistics of the county town, with which the chapter opens, the names of the great landholders in the county are specified, the following passage occurs :
" In Cestre-scire tenet episeopus ejusdem civitatis de rege quod ad suum pertinet episcopatum.
Totam reliquam terram comitatus tenet Hugo comes de rege cum suis hominibus.
Terram inter Ripe et Mersham tenuit Rogerius Picta- vcnsis. Modo tenet rex/^
It seems clear from this passage that the country between the Ribble and the Mersey was connected with Cheshire at the time of the Conquest, though granted separately by the Conque- ror to Roger of Poitou, Cheshire falling to Hugh Lupus. It is, indeed, quite conceivable that after Northumbria had been irre- vocably reduced to an earldom, — a change which, according to Simeon of Durham, took place in 952, — some king of England should, for purposes of administrative convenience, have attached this district to the earldom of Mercia, with which, geographi- cally, it is much more closely connected than with Yorkshire.
Amouuderness also had been originally granted to Roger of Poitou, but had lapsed to the king before the date of the survey. Of this district, as also of the two divisions of Lancashire farther north — namely, Lonsdale South and Lonsdale North — of Sands (Furness), the statistics appear in Domesday under the head of Yorkshire.
How these disjecta membra came to be united and consoli- dated into the great and historic county of Lancaster, it is not easy to explain with clearness and precision. The centralising process probably began with the building of the great Norman keep which still crowns the castle-hill at Lancaster; the owner of that keep was a man to be feared and courted, and the " Ho-
604 The Colonuation of Northumhria,
nour of Lancaster" was likely euougli to be created in his favour. The county historians all tell us that Roger of Poitou built the castle, and was the first lord of the " honour ;"6^ but they seem unable to adduce any documentary proof to that efi'ect, though it is probable in itself. If, however, he built the castle, it must have been after his restoration to his estates and dignities by William Rufus; otherwise Lancaster would surely have been more honourably mentioned in Domesday book than as a mere vill forming part of a large manor. Roger was so unlucky as to incur forfeiture a second time. The honour, supposing it to have been then in existence, thus lapsed to the crown. By Henry I. it was conferred, together with the large crown estates in Lancashire, on his favourite nephew Stephen, who granted Purness away to a society of Cistercian monks. It was in right of these estates that Stephen, at the council of English barons in 1 127, took an oath to maintain the succession of the Empress Matilda to the crown .^~ During Stephen's reign the Honour seems to have remained vested in the crown. At the final pacification in 1153, it was agreed that William Count of Mortain, Stephen^s only sur- viving son, should, upon doing homage to Prince Henry, have granted to him " all the lands and honours possessed by Stephen before his accession to the throne. "^^ The honour of Lancaster thus passed to William, who dying without issue, the estates must have reverted to the crown; and Henry II. seems to have granted them, together with the titles of Count of Mortain and Lord of Lancaster, to his youngest son John, from whom, in 1093, dur- ing Richard I.'s absence on the crusade, the burgesses of Lan- caster obtained their first charter of incorporation. Again, dur- ing the reign of John, the honour was merged in the crown. It so continued during the greater part of the succeeding reign, as John^s second son Richard was already, as Earl of Cornwall, sufficiently provided for both in respect of wealth and rank. In process of time Henry III. had a second son to provide for, — Edmund, surnamed Crouchback. He could not give him the earldom of Cornwall; for his brother Richard had a son, also named Edmund, who succeeded to that by right of inherit- ance. It is probable that these Lancashire estates formed the largest mass of property still belonging to the crown ; and they
^' ** The term Honour implied superiority over several dependent manors, -whose proprietors were obliged to do suit and service to the superior baron or chief, who kept his Honour-court annually with great pomp." Corry, Hist, of Lancashire.
^' Our historians appear to think it unnecessary to explain how it was that Stephen, with his foreign titles and possessions, took the oath as an English baron. If county-history were more, and more critically, studied, much of the vagueness, inconsequence, and unreality which attach to our early annals would be removed.
^ Lingard.
The Colonisation of Northumhria, 605
were granted by Henry III. to Edmund, who was at tlie same time created Earl (comes) of Lancaster. Here then, and not before, we have the origin of the shire or county of Lancaster, " quia comitatus a comite dicitur.^^*^'* Still, however, as the abbots of Furness exercised, in virtue of their original grant, an independent jurisdiction in that part of Lancashire which lies north of the sands, the county was not yet complete. As in the case of Westmoreland, a legal decision seems to have been the foundation of that settlement of the county boundaries which prevails at the present day. The sheriff of the newly-made earl insisted that his writs should run in Furness. William de Mid- dleton, the abbot, resisted ; and, being summoned by the king's justices itinerant to appear at Lancaster, produced his charters, and in the main substantiated his claim, subject, however, to this proviso, that he should pay the yearly sum of six shillings and eight pence to the Earl of Lancaster. The reservation of this rent did in fact amount to an admission that Furness was part of the county ; and as such it was henceforward regarded ; it is so described in a charter of Henry IV. dated in 1412. We have thus, to the best of our power, got our disjecta membra pieced together.
4. We must hasten over the chief points in the long history of the two closely connected counties of Durham and Northum- berland. The distinction between Deira and Bernicia being nearly lost sight of after the time of Oswald (642), the two counties remained undistinguished portions of the Northum- brian kingdom, so long as it was in being. When, in the reign of Edred, earls were finally substituted for kings, Osulph was made the first earl, and the opportunity was seized, if Ingulphus may be believed, ^^ of dividing Northumbria into shires, ridings, and wapentakes. But the statement is incredible, or rather has no meaning, except so far as the minor divisions are concerned ; for Cumberland and Westmoreland, as has been shown, were at this time in the hands of the Scottish king. Lancashire did not become a county till long after the Conquest ; and Northumber- land and Durham were certainly not shires till a still later period. Yet it is not unlikely that the great shire of York may have been constituted at this period, stopping short at the Tees, between which and the Tweed St. Cuthbert owned most of the land, and had large powers of jurisdiction, but including large portions of what are now Westmoreland and Lancashire. The name of Eoferwic-scir probably crept in gradually, being used within the county long before the old and expressive name of NorS- hymbra-land passed out of the mouths of the people of the rest of England. The change must have been firmly estab-
^^ Sim. Dun. Chron, Eccl. Dunelm. an. 953. ^ Quoted by Lingard.
606 The Colonisation of Northumbria,
lislied — if tlie language of the Saxon Chronicle may be relied upon — between the years 1016 and 1065. Under the former year the chronicler describes the march of Canute into North- umbria in the direction of York, '*^to NorS-hymbran to Eoforwic- weard/' Under 1065, a gathering is mentioned of all the thanes in Yorkshire and in Northumberland, " on Eoforwic-scire and on NorS-hymbra-lande/^ In the annals of the Norman kings down to Edward I., whenever the name Northumberland occurs, it must be understood neither of the ancient Northumbria nor of the modern county alone, but of this last together with Durham, But how came it that the jurisdiction of St. Cuthbert grew so potent and reached so far as to create an imperium in imperio within the Northumbrian kingdom ? To answer this question satisfactorily would involve a complete and careful analysis of the famous Legend of Durham ; an enterprise in which, at the fag end of a long article, we could hardly expect to carry our readers with us. The outlines of the story are these : St. Cuthbert, after holding for two years the see which had been founded by Aidan at Lindisfarne, died in 687, and was buried in the minster on Holy Isle. His sanctity, and the marvellous heavenly interpositions which it was believed to draw down, fur- nished matter for a biography to his countryman the venerable Bede ; and the Life of St. Cuthbert was copied again and again, sank deeply into many minds, and was doubtless to be found in every monastery in the north.^^ By the monks who boasted to be his spiritual descendants it was declared, after some centuries had passed, that lands and towns had been freely given to and accepted by the saint ; that king Egfrid had given him the city of Carlisle, with all the land round it within a radius of fifteen miles, and also the lands of Cartmel, on Morecambe Bay, *' with all the Britons upon them.^^ What we read in the biography and in the Ecclesiastical History leaves a quite different impres- sion. In reality, Cuthbert was like one of the old Fathers of the Desert : he loved to spend his time in solitude, meditating on eternal truths, and to earn his daily bread by the labour of his hands. Moreover, he was educated in the school of Bishop Aidan, who gave every thing away as fast as he received it, and " had nothing of his ow^n besides his church and a few fields about it.^'^^ But however this may be, the see was plentifully en- dowed and enriched under the successors of St. Cuthbert. After Halfdene(in 875-6) had encamped near the Tyne, and portioned out a great part of Northumbria among his Danish soldiers, the then bishop of Lindisfarne, — Eardulf, — in fear perhaps of ac-
^^ In a charter of Athelstan, a " Vita S. Cudberti" is given to his church along with other valuable presents. Codex Dipt. Ang, Sax. no. 112. « Hist. Eccl. ii'u 17.
The Colonisation of Northnmhria, 607
lual starvation througli the appropriation of the chnrch-lands by the Danes, took the body of St. Cuthbert from its resting- place, and, accompanied by many of the tenants, wandered away in search of a safer abode. Craik, a small village in the plain of York, belonging to the see, lying midway between the Ouse and Derwent, and at that time probably hidden among woods, was their first place of refuge. The confusion in Northumbria is said to have abated after Guthrid was chosen king ; and at the end of seven years the fugitives turned their faces homewards. They went, however, no farther than Chester-le-Street on the Wear, being probably deterred from returning to Lindisfarne by its ex- posed position, so dangerously near to the marauding Scots, whose kingdom was growing stronger every year, and open to attack by sea from the Danish pirates. Here the see continued for about a hundred years ; the succession of bishops is to be found in Florence. During the miserable reign of Ethelred II. the Danes again overran the north ; and Bishop Aldhun, taking the relics with him, found shelter for a time in the monastery of Ripon. Returning thence in 995, he was led to encamp on the hill called Dun-holme, the rough steep sides of which were nearly engirdled by the river Wear, while the top was good land and tolerably level. A rude tabernacle was built to shelter the sacred body, then a chapel — a church — finally a cathedral, round Avhich has grown up the city of Durham.
The above outline of facts, though not vouched for in any writings earlier than the twelfth centurj^, is probably in the main not far different from what actually occurred. Partly by gift, partly by purchase, the see continued to increase its posses- sions, until \ery nearly the whole of the present county of Dur- ham, together with the district of Norham and Holy Isle, bor- dering on the Tweed, were the property of the bishopric. Large judicial and magisterial powers were exercised by the Bishop all over the see lands, although in this respect he had no advantage over the lay holder of a lordship. But the right of asylum, and the exemption from all secular burdens, were privileges peculiar to St. Cuthbert and his church.
After the Conquest there seems always to have been a com- plete administrative separation between Yorkshire and Nor- thumberland. Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, who was left regent of the kingdom, jointly with the Bishop of Coutances, while Wil- liam was in Normandy, seems to have employed sheriffs in both during the first few years of confusion. It does not distinctly appear whether Waltheof, the son of Earl Siward, was at any time acting as Earl of Northumberland. At any rate, he was imprisoned in 1074, and beheaded in 1075; and soon after- wards we find Walchere Bishop of Durham carrying on the
608 The Colonisation of Northumhria,
temporal government of Northumberland. " The Bishop," says William of Malmesbury, " independently of his see, was warden of the whole county," that is, of Northumberland and Durham. The Bishop was murdered in a tumultuary rising of the country people in 1080. About the same time Robert Curthose, the Conqueror's eldest son, built on the site of the old Angle town of Monkchester, on the left bank of the Tyne, a strong castle, which might be of use in curbing any future inroads of the Scots. This *^* Novum Castrum super Tinam'^ was the nucleus of Newcastle. Walchere is regarded as the first Bishop who exercised those "palatine" powers which belonged to the see for more than four centuries, and which included the right of coining money, of administering justice, of raising troops, and of hunting in the royal forests. Still, however, the possessions of the bishopric were long spoken of as included in the county of Northumberland. Under William Rufus the earldom was given to Robert de Mowbray, who lost it through engaging in treasonable plots in 1095. For the next forty-three years the county was probably in charge of a vicecomes or high sheriff. In 1138 Prince Henry, son of David I. of Scotland, was re- cognised by Stephen as earl of all Northumberland except the castles of Newcastle and Bamborough. Henry died in 1152; his eldest son Malcolm became king of Scotland two years later; and his second son, William, took the earldom, but had to sur- render it in 1157, under the treaty by which Malcolm gave up all his rights over the three northern counties. From this period down to the reign of Richard II. the government of Northumberland seems to have been carried on by high sheriffs stationed at Newcastle. The earldom was granted to the Percy family in 1377. At what precise period the bishopric came to be regarded as a separate county it is not easy to say. Even in the fifteenth century it was doubted whether Hartlepool, which, though surrounded by the possessions of the see, did not belong to it, was in Durham or Northumberland. The palatine rights of the bishopric were materially abridged by Henry VIII., and in modern times have been altogether abrogated : the last to ex- ercise them was Bishop Van Mildert. The outlying portion of Durham along the Scottish border was only incorporated with Northumberland in the year 1841.
[ 609 ]
THE RISE OF THE ENGLISH POOR-LAW.
With all its anomalies, the English poor-law is perhaps the most characteristic result of that common social and political activity which is expressed by the words "constitution in Church and State." The form of words belongs to a time when the Church was not only an aggregate of bishoprics and parishes, but a great living corporation, the representative and patroness of all other corporate bodies, the teacher and mistress of all the civilisation and progress which depend on social cooperation, and are independent of the control of the State, — when she was the almoner of the poor, the educator of the ignorant, the repositary of science and art, the maker of roads, the builder of bridges, the cultivator of lands, and the promoter of medical science by her hospitals, and of commerce and manufacture by her guilds. If we understand by " Church" merely the Establish- ment in relation to our present society, with its chapter-houses and cathedrals, its privileges and its means of proselytism, the phrase " constitution in Church and State" represents a nuisance which loudly asks for reform. But if we understand " Church" in its representative and symbolic sense, as denoting all natural and voluntary associations and corporations which aim at objects outside the sphere of political regulation, the phrase is still the venerable formula of English liberty. It proclaims that there is in our society something previous to the State — a corporate life of the people in families, associations, and religious bodies, over which the State has no sovereign control ; and it asserts, more- over, that the two elements. Church and State, though indepen- dent of each other, yet together form one inseparable whole, and coalesce in one " constitution/^ If we wish to know what particular parts of our constitution we owe chiefly to the Church, and what to the State, we shall have to examine separately each element of our laws, and to trace its development from the beginning of our history.
For instance, political economists who go so far as to own that the State may be bound to guarantee employment at ample wages to all who are born, which was the principle of the Eliza- bethan poor-law, add the condition that, if it does this, it is bound in self- protection, and for the sake of every purpose for which government exists, to provide that no person shall be born without its consent. " Society can feed the necessitous if it takes their multiplication under its control, .... but it cannot with impunity take the feeding on itself, and leave the multiply-
610 The Rise of I he English Poor-Latv.
ingfrcc."* In a similar way, the evils resulting from mendi- cancy and vagrancy have often occasioned the enactment of severe laws against private almsgiving, and the prohibition of all doles except those distributed through certain channels. Yet what can be more monstrous than that the State should claim a sovereign control over marriage, and over the acts of Christian charity ?
For the Church, with her crowds of religious persons vowed to celibacy and labour, had a corresponding right to encourage population and to feed the miserable. Her clergy and nuns, by their self-imposod abstinence, made room for the multiplication of those who had not received the gift of continence ; her labori- ous monks, who could not consume the fruit of their own toil, had a right to confer it upon the miserable. In doing this they did no mjury to the commonwealth; and the State recognised their claim when it acquiesced in the law that " the miserable " belonged to the sphere of the ecclesiastical tribunals. The Church had purchased for them a place in society, and had given them a right of existence which was not recognised in the Pagan state. The State at first was grateful for this, and willingly co- operated wdth the Church in her measures of poor-relief; but in time, partly through abuses in the Church, partly through the inconveniences necessarily arising from the arrangement, and partly through oblivion of the evil from which the Church had once delivered society, the State separated itself from the Church, then opposed her, and at last deprived her of all means of fulfilling this mission, and so found itself obliged to undertake what had hitherto been the function of the Church.
The provision made for the poor by the medieval Church may be divided into two parts. The first was an imperative tax laid on the owners of property. A law, attributed to St. Simplicius, ordered that one quarter of the tithes should be a})- propriated to the maintenance of the poor of the parish. The second was the fruit of voluntary acts of self-sacrifice made by the clergy and religious, who devoted themselves, and the pious laity, who devoted their property, to the maintenance of the poor. Of these two modes of provision, the first was that which had the earlier political significance. For, as the first necessity of civilisation^ after the break-up of the Roman system in Europe, was to settle the roving barbarians in fixed habita- tions, where their families and their property might give some security for their good behaviour, Church and State both strove to attach the population to the soil. The council of Tours in the sixth century ordered that each place should maintain its own poor, and prevent the vagabondage of mendicants ; and
' Mill, Political Economy, fourth ed., 18-57, i. 430.
The Rise of the English Poor- Law, 611
though the laws of Dagobert, Pepin, and Charlemagne protected the religious pilgrim, yet pilgrimages were discouraged by the gravest divines ; and the growing custom, which made all the inhabitants of a district answerable for the delinquencies of each, tended to put social difficulties in the way of unlimited vagabond- age. But after the tendency to local settlement had developed into the system of serfage, the needs of civilisation became differ- ent. The mobilisation of the population became the great prob- lem of the age. The share which the Church took in this great work has never been sufficiently appreciated. The agency which she employed was not the parochial relief given by the secular clergy, but the exceptional action of the religious orders. The Benedictines had already performed a similar service to the world. They had shown the way to fuse together the Goth and the Roman patrician on the common ground of manual labour, and to make it possible for their descendants to dig their gardens or farm their estates without losing caste, as they might in a land of slaves. But in the middle ages the*Benedictines did not directly promote the manumission of individual serfs, except as the founders of burghs, where the slave might become free after habitation for a year and a day, yet prepared for their wholesale emancipation by helping to bring about those conditions of property without which the emancipated serf could not obtain a living. In the early years of the feudal system land was not saleable, because there was no moveable property to give for it. It could only change owners by being given to the Church, which leased it out to farmers. Thus the exclusiveness of feudal property was first broken down. The system of leaseholds be- came common in Church property long before it was introduced into secular domains, and many of the serfs were raised to the condition of free tenants. Thus the Church, still remaining an aristocratic proprietor, began the mobilisation of real property, and paved the way for that division of land and improved culture without which the existence of the third estate is impossible.
In the mobilisation of the serf himself the Church had a great share. The popular tendency towards breaking connection with the soil found its religious expression in the Crusades and in pilgrimages, and a sanction as well as an expression in the extraordinary and sudden development of the military and men- dicant orders. At this period the history of the Church shows that pity for the weak and oppressed was elevated into the domi- nant passion of Christendom. The military orders consecrated weakness. The forlorn condition of the widow and orphan lost its reproach, and was raised into a kind of sacred state, able to impart a blessing to its champions. The Franciscans did for pauperism and leprosy, for the vagrant and mendicant, what the
VOL. IV. * *
612 The Rise of the English Poor-Law\
Benedictines had done for labour, and the military orders for the orphan and widow.
Not that these movements grew from any formed political idea. They were religious in intention only; and whatever politi- cal results arose from them were a spontaneous and unlooked- for growth. The pilgrimage was the pretext on which the serf wandered from his lord's domain.^ The crusade, by arming masses of serfs, must have had an influence on their eventual emancipation, analogous to that of the standing army of Russia, which has led to a like result, or to the probable effect of the arming of slaves by the American Confederacy. The religious orders crowned the edifice, not only by the provision which their hospitals and charitable institutions made for the houseless wan- derer, but by the religious sanction the example of the mendi- cant friars gave to the vagabondage which all historians own to have been a necessary, however lamentable, concomitant of the transition from slavery to freedom. The condition of the va- grant beggar could not have become more tolerable than that of the immobilised serf, unless his condition had been made honour- able and respectable, by being shared with the most respected of ecclesiastics. It is thus not only true that vagrancy, with its train of ills, was the shadow of a good already accomplished — be- cause, '^ if the people had not ceased to be slaves, they could not have possessed a freedom of action, or resorted to vagrancy as a means of living" — but it is further true that it was the necessary atmosphere, the condition sine qua non, of the process of accom- plishing this good. It was so understood by contemporaries most interested in the question. The feudal lords, in their efforts to check the movement, made no direct laws against eman- cipation, but only against vagrancy and mendicancy, as know- ing that if they could check these the cause of them would be stifled. As long as the Church had been content to practise local almsgiving, without encouraging the poor to emigrate from their homes, the lords accepted her cooperation, and allowed her to support their worn-out labourers. But as soon as she became an aid to the serf in his attempts to gain his freedom, an opposition sprang up which increased in violence till its climax in the sixteenth century. There is no doubt that Wat Tyler in- surrections. Jack Cade riots, and Pilgrimages of Grace, naturally incidental as they are to the fermentation which changes the rough juice of barbaric society into the wine of civilisation, are terrible evils in themselves, and doubly terrible to the classes which they menace. The legislature tried to kill the weed in the roots by cutting off vagrancy. This was the first germ of
' The Act 12 Richard II., 1388, contained a clause against servants or la- bourers moving from their residences " by colour to go in pilgrimage."
The Rise of the English Poor-Law. 613
our civil poor-law. While the Church fed the wanderer and blessed the mendicant, the State enacted penal laws against the vagrant, the sturdy beggar, and the person who relieved them; it tied each peasant to the soil, took from him all right of loco- motion, except at stated intervals and under strict conditions, settled the amount of his wages, and prescribed the time he was to work for his master. The Church, in the council of Toulouse, defended the wanderer, and reenacted the laws of Dagobert, Pepin, and Charlemagne, in his favour. The State enacted that no servant or labourer, man or woman, should at the end of his terra leave his master or his home, to serve or dwell elsewhere, or to go on pilgrimage, without license under the king's seal, under pain of the stocks, and further punishment at the discre- tion of the justices. He was to be compelled to work at the fixed price ; and both man and master were punished if higher wages were given. Any one who had been an agricultural labourer up to the age of twelve years was to remain so for life, and not to get apprenticed in a town, where he might gain his liberty by residence for a year and a day. Beggars were to be treated as vagrant labourers ; impotent beggars were allowed to remain in the town where they found themselves, unless it was incapable of supporting them, when they were to remove to the place of their birth. The Franciscans were the missionaries and hospitallers of the v^retched suburbs of the towns where the vagrants would naturally congregate. There the serf flying from his lord would find in them protectors, who would do their best to hide him from the strict search which the magistrates were directed to make for him by such poor-laws as then existed. These first germs of our civil poor-law are simply re- pressive; they make no provision for any one; they look like " an attempt to restore the expiring system of slavery,^-* and to repress the abuses which naturally grow like a fungus from a soil rich in ecclesiastical foundations of charity, which often en- courage the idle and profligate as much as the deserving poor. '* The hospitality of the abbeys,-'^ says Fuller, '^ was charity mis- taken; they only maintained the poor they made. Vagrants came to consider the abbey their inheritance, till beggary was entailed on their posterity.'^ " The blind eleemosynary spirit," says Hallam, " was notoriously the cause, not the cure, of beg- gary and wretchedness. It promoted the vagabond mendicity which the severe statutes in vain endeavoured to repress." The same criticism was passed in France. Henry II., in 1547, ob- liged all religious foundations to discontinue their alms to mendicants, because it only served "d^attraire les valides, et les detournoit d'oeuvrer et travailler."
Thus we have three original elements of the poor-law — two
614 The Rise of the English Poor-Law.
ecclesiastical and one civil. The first was the local, parochial, and compulsory relief of the poor, reduced to system, and founded on principles which, though next to impracticable in the State, are fundamental in the moral code of the Church. " Extreme necessity," says the canon law, "makes all things common ;^^ " it excuses theft, and palliates robbery with violence ;" " in a general dearth food becomes common property;" and even in ordinary times " both clergy and laity are bound to provide alms, even by their own manual labour, in order to assist those in ex- treme need." And the ecclesiastical tribunals were empowered to enforce these principles. "Although the poor man could not bring a direct action against the rich to compel him to assist him, yet he might implore the ecclesiastical judge to compel him," by the use of the means entrusted to his discretion; for, in the Church, acts of charity are as real duties as those of justice; and she has a right to employ whatever compulsory measures the state of society allows her to use in forcing her children to do their duty. But the odiousness of this power of compelling the laity to perform the duties of charity was mitigated by the exemplary self-denial of ecclesiastics, who by their self-restraint checked the tendency to overpopulation, and by their labours secured a surplus of food to distribute to whomsoever they pleased. The abbeys and hospitals were the centres of this voluntary and arbitrary charity, which formed the second eccle- siastical element in the system of poor-relief. These two ele- ments formed the substantial and positive basis of poor-relief; the third requisite was a negative check upon the abuses to which they would naturally give birth. The tendency of the principles of the Church was to break down the absolutism of property in favour of the needy. On the other side was the State, with its notions of property so rigid, absolute, and one- sided, that it made property of men, in order to secure to the owner the usufruct of his domains. This antagonism found ex- pression first in the savage legislation against rogues and vaga- bonds, and then in the pillage of the Reformation. Such was the way in which the State discharged its function of seeing that the exuberant charity of the Church did not exceed the bounds of just economy, and promote the growth of a dissolute and idle proletariate, to the detriment of the aristocracy and the la- bourers.
Each of these three elements of the poor-law had its period of predominance. In the height of the feudal system, when the serfs were attached to the soil, parochial relief was the only thing wanted ; the interests of the lord led him to institute sufficient checks upon idleness. In the period of emancipa- tion and mobilisation of the serfs, the voluntary relief of the
. The Rise of the English Poor-Law, 615
religious orders -n-as chiefly in request ; so much so that the old regulation, appropriating a fourth part of the tithe to the paro- chial poor, fell into disuse, and it became a common thing to make over the tithes of a parish to an abbey or hospital. The necessary result of this was to divert the tithes from the relief of the parish poor. Hence arose a new quarrel between the secular and the regular clergy, and between the regular clergy and the State. The celebrated Walter Map, before 1200, and the more celebrated Kobert Grosseteste, in the first half of the next cen- tury, satirised and opposed the endeavours of the monasteries to appropriate the possessions and tithes which were meant for local uses and resident priests. Archbishop Stratford, in the provincial synod held in London, Oct. 10, 1342, declared that it was the office of churchmen to see that the poor were not defrauded of their share of the tithes and other ecclesiastical property, and that the local poor had a better right than strangers to the tithes of any given parish. But, he continued, when the regular clergy obtained the impropriation of benefices, they applied the pro- ceeds to their own uses, or to relieve their own poor ; hence, he said, proceeded the general indevotion of tithe-payers and the audacity of church-robbers. He therefore decreed that, in every case of appropriation of a benefice to a religious house, a certain proportion of the revenue, to be determined by the bishop, should be given in alms to the poor of the parish, under pain of seques- tration. Fifty years afterwards, in 1392, the legislature enacted a similar law. In every license of appropriation of tithes to a religious house, the bishop was to ordain a convenient sum of money to be distributed yearly out of it to the poor parishioners. The concentration of charitable foundations in these religious establishments, and the great doles distributed at their doors, caused an endless movement of the poor population, which soon produced social evils and political troubles like the risings of Tyler and Cade. And now the objection which, when originally made by William de Sancto Amore against the Mendicants, was inapplicable and unjust, became more and more true politi- cally. " If," he said, " religious men who are able-bodied and strong may live on alms without labouring with their hands, others may do the like. But if all were to choose to live in that way, society would perish.^ '^ By their example, says an invec- tive against the English Friars,
'' debacchantur servi Et in servos Domini nimis sunt protervi."*
When the movement became such as they could no longer sanc- tion, they lost their popularity with the people by opposing
3 Inter Op. S. Thorn. Aquin., vol. xix. p. 341. * Monumenta Franciscana, Append, p. 592.
616 The Rise of the English Poor-Law.
them, but did not regain the favour of the rich, who looked upon them as the cause of a state of things in which, as a con- temporary poet sings,
" Servit nobilitas, et rusticitas dominatur, Ad res illieitas omnis plebs prascipitatur,"*
This state of things introduced the period of the predominance of the third element of our poor-law, when, in opposition to the Church, which with indiscriminate benevolence had relieved all applicants, thus encouraging vagrancy, and collecting masses of dissipated vagabonds round her great houses, the State set itself to put down vagrancy by the most cruel laws, to force every landless man to have an ostensible employment, to dis- tribute the eleemosynary relief equally through all districts, instead of allowing it to accumulate in centres, which therefore became thronged with pauper pilgrims, and to confine the labouring classes to the places where they were born.
It is strange that this merely negative system should have recommended itself to statesmen as, in itself, a sufficient solution of the problem of poor-relief. But theory was aided by passion ; and, in the beginning of the sixteenth century, the inconveniences of mendicity had increased to such a pitch that the one thing needful seemed to be the destruction of the evil in its roots. Hence an Act of 1530, after providing that the impotent poor might beg within the limits assigned them by the magistrates, and that sturdy beggars should be whipped at the cart's tail, and passed to their parishes, went on to ordain that scholars without letters from their universities, shipwrecked mariners, proctors, pardoners, quacks, physiognomists, and pal misters, when caught begging, were to be whipped, whipped and pilloried, or whipped, pilloried, and curtailed of their ears, and that their harbourers and relievers were to be fined at the discretion of the justices.
Those who are acquainted with Chaucer's pictures of English manners will have no difficulty in seeing that this law was directed against the same religious abuses which he had satirised two centuries before, and will acquiesce in the commentary of Sir George NichoUs, who observes that "the priests and inferior clergy were all, more or less, beggars or solicitors of alms, and those of the mendicant orders were professedly such ; so that, partly from custom, and partly from teaching and example, not only was begging tolerated, but the profession of a beggar was regarded as not being disgraceful. Against habits and impres- sions thus countenanced and upheld the legislature had to struggle in its endeavours to suppress mendicancy."
» Political Songs, i. 227.
The Rise of the English Poor-Law. 61 T
But the legislature was not satisfied with merely repressing the abuse of the system of relief doled out at the great centres of ecclesiastical wealth; it went on to attempt to restore the older system of parochial relief. The contribution^ however, was not made compulsory upon the rich parishioners ; nor was any fixed provision made for the poor by a return to the allotment of a quarter of the tithes to the poor. The Act of 1535 (27 Henry VIII. c. 25), after ordering valiant beggars to be set to work, and the impotent poor to be supported, enacts that the mayors of towns, and the churchwardens, and two others of every parish, should systematically collect voluntary alms of the parishioners every Sunday and holiday, in such wise as that the poor, impotent, sick, and diseased people might be provided and relieved, and the lusty poor might be daily kept in continual labour, so that every one should get his own living with his own hands. The parochial clergy were to exhort their flocks to contribute; an account-book was to be kept of the sums collected and spent; and the Act especially provides that this book was not to remain in the custody of the parson of the parish. No alms was to be given by any person otherwise than to the common boxes and gatherings, upon pain of forfeiting ten times the value of every such illegal gift. And all persons and bodies politic and corporate bound to distribute alms were thenceforth to give the same into the common boxes. This clause, which deprived the religious houses of all their eleemosynary functions, and reduced to a minimum that element of poor-relief of which they were the representatives, was logically followed, the next year (1536), by the suppression of the small abbeys and religious establishments, and in 1539 by the dissolution of all the rest except a few hospitals and schools. There seems to have been a Utopian idea current that, as the religious houses were the direct causes of the vagrancy which infested the realm, when these were destroyed, and their revenues distributed among the courtiers and gentry, the new beneficiaries would voluntarily perform all the duties of parochial relief within their own dis- tricts, vagrancy would die out, the local poor would be duly cared for, the lands would be delivered out of mortmain, and the country would be prosperous. There was a profound feeling against the whole ecclesiastical system. As in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries the scandal given by the wealthy clergy, secular and regular, had given birth to movements for which the mendicant orders had supplied a homoeopathic cure, so, in the sixteenth, there had again arisen an indignation against the new abuses that were protected by the separate jurisdiction of the spiritual courts, and a conviction that the mendicant friars had, with some exceptions, become infected with the diseases
618 The Rise of the English Poor-Laic.
which they had undertaken to cure. Towns were unsafe through the throngs of profligate idlers congregated round the abbeys and hospitals ; measures of severity had been tried in vain ; and the civil governments began to take into their own hands the ad- ministration of the "miserable'^ classes, to which the ecclesi- astical government had notoriously become unequal. In France as well as in England there was a tendency to restore the old parochial system of relief, with contributions either voluntary or compulsory, to abolish the system of hospices as an en- couragment to vagrancy, and to transfer the administration and control from the clergy to the officials of the State. In Grenoble the government in 1530 imposed a tax on house- holders to make up the deficiency of the voluntary collections for the poor. In 1538 the parliament of Toulouse imposed a poor-rate upon all ecclesiastics, officers of justice, nobles, and burgesses. In 1543 and 1544 the municipality of Paris was ordered to levy an annual eleemosynary tax for the poor upon all princes, nobles, ecclesiastics, religious communities, burgesses, and proprietors, and jurisdiction was given to compel the pay- ment of the sums assessed. This system seems to have been enforced for some time; thirty years afterwards, in 1578, we find that collectors who refused to levy the tax were compelled to advance a loan of 500 crowns. But these compulsory poor- rates were only local and temporary; they took no root in France. The edict of Henry II., in 1547, makes no mention of them. This edict is in most respects similar to the law of Henry YIII. Workhouses were to be established for sturdy beggars, and home-relief provided for the infirm poor. In each parish the clergy and marguilliers, or churchwardens, were to make a list of the poor, who were to receive, either at home, or in some other convenient place, reasonable alms out of money to be collected at the church-doors, or from house to house. Then followed the suppressive clause. All abbeys, priories, chapters, and colleges which by ancient foundation were obliged to give public alms to mendicants, were to ab- stain from doing so, because it only attracted the sturdy and made them refuse to work. The money was thenceforth to be put into the parochial box. The richer abbeys were allowed some liberty of choice ; but they were ordered to assist in pre- ference those parishes where the poor were most immerous and the alms most scanty. This measure might have been logically followed in France, as in England, by the destruction of the houses thus deprived of their eleemosynary functions. But they were saved ; partly, perhaps, by the commendam. If the great lords in England had been holders of the richest benefices and abbeys, the dissolution would have been only partial. As it was.
The Rise of the English Poor-Laio. 619
every thing conspired to their ruin. The opinion of the mystic omnipotence of the State, which characterised the politicians of the Renaissance, favoured a government which confidently under- took the arduous functions of poor-relief at the very moment when it was about to squander the means for performing them. The palpable failure of the religious eleemosynary system to keep down pauperism had alienated the aristocracy. The nascent com- mercial spirit felt itself stifled and fettered by the accumula- tions of real property in mortmain, unbalanced by any sufficient quantity of moveables and personalty. The privileges of the clergy not only seemed hurtful, but they contradicted the ^' elegance^^ and unity which was the aim of the lawyer, and were offensive to the dignity of the layman. And the exasperation against mendicants and vagrants had become so great, that the public were willing to be rid of them even by the barbarous pro- cesses of the latter years of Henry VIII., when 38,000 persons suffered death as vagrants, besides the 72,000 who, during the course of his reign, were hanged for theft. Even still, after the lapse of three centuries, public opinion refuses to honour those whose religious celibacy and self-denying labour enable them, as well as give them an economical right, to maintain an unproduc- tive proletariate.
In theory, the union of the spiritual and temporal jurisdic- tions in the king's hand did not destroy their distinction. They were two powers coinciding in one person, like the Austrian and Hungarian crowns. Their functions were kept distinct ; and, in spite of the great reaction against the Church, poor-relief, though regulated by the civil authorities, remained in substance the duty of the ecclesiastical corporations. After a brief attempt to ag- gravate the atrocity and vindictiveness of the law against vagrants, by making slaves of them and their children, the legislation under Edward VI. fell into the course begun under Henry VIII. in England, and by Henry II. in Erance. In 1551 a Bill was passed to make a more ample provision for the impotent poor, by rendering the assessment compulsory, not recoverable how- ever by civil proceedings, but only in the bishops^ court. Any one frowardly refusing to give towards the help of the poor, or discouraging others from doing so, was first subjected to the ex- hortations of the parson and churchwardens, and then to those of the bishop, who, on failure of gentle means, was empowered *^ to take order according to his discretion." This provision was continued under the reign of Mary ; but the bishop's discretion was limited under Elizabeth (1563) by a provision enabling him to bind the froward defaulter, under a penalty of 10/., to appear at the next sessions (thus transferring his cause to the civil tribunals), where the justices, after finding persuasion useless.
620 The Rise of the English Poor-Law.
"were empowered to "tax, sesse, and limit upon every such obsti- nate person so refusing, according to their good discretion, what sum he should pay." In default, he was to be committed to prison till he paid the rate and all arrears.
The secularisation of the poor-relief was further promoted by making the hundred, and not the parish, the area of rating, as the justices were substituted for the bishops and parsons. This tendency was still further developed in 1572 by an Act which gave the magistrates the entire control of the poor within their divisions, and enabled them to settle paupers in convenient places, and to appoint overseers to govern them. It also legalised an appeal against excessive assessment, which it ordered to be made after a proper estimate of the probable expenses; the justices were also empowered to call upon neighbouring hundreds to assist those which were overburdened with their own poor. Prom this time the legislature went on for a quarter of a century in the same direction, taking the control of relief more and more from the spiritual functionaries, and occupying itself with the de- tails of its administration. It settled the bastardy laws in 1575, provided that the sturdy poor should be set to work under collectors and governors, and gave the most minute directions about the kind of labour, and the materials on which it was to be employed-. It also ordered houses of correction to be established under " censors" and " warders." But in 1 597 there was a manifest reaction, and a return towards the old ideas. Thfe legislation of this year was contained in three distinct Acts, 39 Eliz. cc. 3, 4, and 5. The first reestablished the old parochial system of relief. The overseers appointed by the justices under the Act of 1572 were continued ; but the churchwardens were overseers ex -officio. Besides the rate, voluntary collections in money and kind were to be made weekly, and a board to be held every Sunday in church after the afternoon service. The Act also borrowed from the ecclesiastical law the important principle which made parents and children, and grandparents and grandchildren, mutually liable for each other^s support. The second Act embodied the traditional legislation of the State against vagrancy and mendi- cancy. Sturdy beggars were to be stripped naked and whipped, and sent to the place of their birth or last residence, there to be put to labour. And the third Act re\ived the system of volun- tary hospices, which had received so rude a shock from the disso- lution of monasteries. Charitable persons were enabled to found hospitals, maisons de Dieu, abiding places, or houses of correction, as well for the sustentation and relief of the maimed poor, needy, or impotent people, as to set the poor to work. These hospitals were to be incorporated, and have perpetual succession for ever, and were to be ordered and visited as the founder chose to appoint.
The Rise of the English Poor-Laiv, 621
The division of these three branches of one subject into three separate Acts is a sign that the legislature intended to preserve and restore the three distinct functions of poor-relief which were originally divided between the Church and the State. First was the compulsory parochial relief, in which the poor-rate took the place of the fourth part of the tithe ; next came the repressive function of the State to obviate the economical dangers of a legal provision for the poor; and, thirdly, the system of voluntary hospices was legalised, and their management was left to inde- pendent corporations. The Elizabethan poor-law of 1601, which is still the foundation of our system, only united and amalgamated these three functions ; it introduced no new principle, and de- stroyed no old one. Our poor-law still rests on the parochial system of compulsory alms, on the voluntary system of incorpo- rated hospitals and almshouses, and on the repressive action of the State, neutralising the temptations to idleness and improvi- dence held out by these institutions.
It is very doubtful whether the unity and centralisation of the law of 1601 is productive of unmixed good. It introduced a system under which in later times the workhouse became a hospice for the impotent, a place of work for the sturdy pauper, and a house of correction for the vagabond. It is almost im- possible that the same establishment, under the management of one superintendent, should serve all these purposes. Accordingly, before the reform of 1834, the workhouse had become the hos- pice of all the parish poor, even those who deserved correction rather than hospitality ; while the tendency when the new law was first passed was to make it a house of correction and dis- comfort even for those who had a right to it as a hospice. The workhouse as a refuge for the old was administered by the same regulations that governed it as a mere test of the able- bodied pauperis need ; and old couples were, for the sake of uni- formity, subjected to the rules necessary for preventing younger paupers breeding hereditary paupers in the workhouse itself. The principle was generalised that, in order to free the gua- rantee of support from its injurious efiects upon the minds and habits of the people, it was necessary to accompany the relief with irksome conditions, with restraints upon freedom, and with the privation of some indulgences. And the tendency of the law is to make the aged and impotent poor afraid of asking for what they ought to have, because they cannot think of the workhouse as a hospice, but only as a penitentiary. This would be avoided if the administration of the relief of the infirm and aged poor were left to the parochial system aided by charitable foundations, while the government kept a still stricter control over the relief of the able-bodied pauper in the union workhouse.
The Rise of the English Poor-Law,
The State to regulate, the -anion to apply the labour-test to the able-bodied applicant for relief, the parish, aided by the hospice, not by the workhouse, to provide a refuge for misfortune, sick- ness, and age, seems to be the right combination. It is the one most consonant with the principles of our poor-law, the imperfec- tions of which are attributable to its having been produced in an age Avhen wrong notions of the union of Church and State were prevalent, and reformed in an age of economists and calculators, who took too little heed of the distinct and antagonistic forces upon which our poor-law is built.
[ &23 ]
DR. SMITH'S DICTIONARY OF THE BIBLE.i
The success of Dr. Smith's Dictionaries of Greek and Eoman Antiquities, Biography, and Greography, has been such as might well encourage even a less enterprising editor to undertake a similar publication intended to elucidate the literature, anti- quities, biography, geography, and natural history, of the Bible. A work of this nature was certain to enlist the interest of a far more extensive circle of readers than that for which the other dictionaries were intended ; and the difficulty of securing able contributors from the many accomplished scholars of whom the Established Church may justly boast could not be great. The plan of a Dictionary of the Bible was no novelty ; it had been frequently executed ; but the progress of biblical researches and the discoveries of recent travellers had outstripped the learning of even the latest and best of existing dictionaries. Dr. Smith might not unreasonably declare to himself that he was providing for one of the wants of the day.
The first Bible Dictionary worth mentioning was given to the world by Dom Calmet. The deficiencies of the older dic- tionaries had been made so glaring by the publication of his Commentary on the Old and New Testament, and the Disserta- tions appended to it, that the friends of the learned Benedic- tine induced him to publish a work giving the substance, in a concise form and in alphabetical order, of all the matters dis- cussed by him in the Commentary. Dom Calmet's Dictionary was an extremely valuable work at the time in which it ap- peared ; it was immediately republished at Geneva, and became an authority among Protestants as well as among Catholics ; and it has served as the basis of many more recent works of the same kind. Its defects are, at the present day, visible enough. Biblical science, properly speaking, and particularly that department of it known under the name of * Introduction," must be considered the creation of one of Dom Calmet's literary adversaries, the celebrated Father Eichard Simon, of the Ora- tory, who startled and shocked all his contemporaries, Catholic and Protestant, not merely by the paradoxes and untenable propositions which are scattered through his works, but per- haps still more by the statement of facts and principles which no scholar would, at the present day, think of calling in ques- tion. The science thus created by a French Catholic priest has
^ A Dictionary of the Bible, comprising its Antiquities, Biography, Geography y and Natural History. Edited by William Smith, LL.D. 3 vols. (London: John Murray.)
624 Br. Smith's Dictionary/ of the Bible,
chiefly been cultivated in Protestant Germany. It could only originate in a quarter free from the dogmatic prejudices pecu- liar to orthodox Protestantism concerning the divine character of the sacred writings ; and such a quarter might be tho- roughly Christian.- But, on the other hand, some of the most important questions which are involved in the progress of the science could only arise historically through the negation of the most elementary principles of Christianity. Life must be extinct before an organism can be subjected to a complete dis- section and analysis ; and many of the questions raised by the German critics would never have occurred to any one, had the Bible and its component parts been regarded as the channels in any true sense of a divine revelation. Sincere believers in Christianity may derive profit from the scientific truths elicited by these enquiries; but the enquiries themselves presuppose a period of thought hostile, or at least indifierent, to Chris- tianity. And we know from history that such was actually the case. The English and French Deists of the last century, the learned and philosophical Jews, who at this day speak with admiration of the person of our Lord and of the moral and social benefits which Christianity has conferred upon the world, may be considered Christian believers, if we give that name to all those eminent scholars who have contributed to make bibli- cal science what it is. Biblical science, whatever may have been its origin, owes its growth chiefly, not to Christian faith, but to scepticism ; and this is one of the principal reasons why it has been cultivated in Germany rather than in France or Italy. Scepticism has flourished, and still flourishes, in Ca- tholic as well as in Protestant countries ; but its direction in the latter is naturally determined by the position which the Bible is there supposed to occupy as the sole rule of faith.
In assigning to influences hostile to Christianity so large a share in the growth of biblical science, we are, of course, very far from implying that the science itself is unfavourable to Christianity. This is altogether another question. The philo- sophy of St. Thomas and other great thinkers of the Middle
' "Zwar unraittelbar hatte die Reformation keinen giinstigen Einfluss auf die Entwickelung dieser Wissenschaft, allein die manchfaltige Anregung geisti- ger Thatigkeit auf dem exegetischen und historischen Gebiete der Theologie, welche durch sie vermittelt wurde, konute nicht ohne Riickwirkung auf die Vorstellungen von der Bibelgeschichte bleiben. Doch waren es die Katholiken welche, vielleieht durch das Dogma ihrer Kirche weniger gehindert, nicht nur zuerst den bereits angehauften Stoflf zu sammeln und zu verarbeiten suchten, sondem auch frilher als die Protestanten zu Methoden und Resultaten ge- langten, welche nochjetzt mit Nutzen befolgt und mit Anerkennung genannt warden kiinnen. Spater erst, und wohl von griissern dogmatischen Hinder- nissen beengt kameu die Protestanten an die lleihe." Kcuss, Geachichte der /leiligen Schriften Neuen Testaments, p. 8.
Dr, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible, Q^iy
Ages originated in speculations of tlie most decidedly anti- Christian character. The destructive criticism of some biblical scholars has provoked solutions of a conservative character ; and these have in their turn been subjected to the ordeal of a most searching verification. Is Christianity destined now, as in the Middle Ages, to rise triumphantly above the perils of scientific speculation ; or, in other words, is scientific specula- tion itself likely to favour the Christian side of the controversy ? The answer to this must entirely depend on what is meant by Christianity. Biblical science stands in very difierent relations to the difierent forms or systems of Christianity now existing. One of these forms may, from its very nature, be entirely in- dependent of the results of biblical science ; a second may be modified in accidental, not in essential, details ; while a third may be utterly shattered by them. A good Bible Dictionary, such as that contemplated in the plan of Dr. Smith, would have been of great value in helping to determine the relations be- tween biblical science and the forms of Christianity flourish- ing in this country. But we shall be disappointed if we have recourse for this purpose to the Dictionary as actually exe- cuted. Its professed aim is to meet the wants of those ''who are anxious to study the Bible with the aid of the latest inves- tigations of the best scholars." The aim is not accomplished. The " investigations of the best scholars" are indeed mentioned, often with the greatest disrespect; but they are rarely pre- sented to the readers in the form most appropriate to them.
The defects of the work which particularly strike us, if not numerous, are at least very great; and they run through its most important articles. The essential characteristic of a good dictionary is objectivity ; and to this quality all others should be made subordinate. " II ne faut marquer que ce qui se sait," says Calmet in his preface, " et ce qui se pent donner pour cer- tain." It is for facts, or for arguments equivalent to facts, that we refer to a dictionary, not for eloquent writing, or expressions of private opinion (particularly if this opinion be merel}^ secta- rian), or ingenious speculations, upon which it is impossible to rely. The writer of an article in it should say all that is neces- sary for the elucidation of his subject ; he should say it in as few words as are compatible with clearness ; and he should say nothing else. But the contributors to Dr. Smith's Dictionary are often very far from telling us all that they ought to say. Instead of a complete and accurate analysis of their subject, they pick and choose the parts of it which suit them best ; and they often tell us much more than is necessary, either by saying what is not true, or what is doubtful, or by indulging in difiuse writing and declamation, or by calling names and insinuating
626 Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible,
improper motives. From these defects, of course, many articles are free. The writers do not in general run wantonly into temp- tation ; but whenever they are exposed to it, they are sure to yield. The articles are of very unequal value ; the most im- portant subjects, as a rule, receiving the worst treatment.
Before proceeding to examine the more important articles, it will be well to give some examples of the blemishes which belong to the Dictionary as a whole.
Almost all the contributors to it are, we believe, members of the Established Church. No one has a right to complain of Anglican divines for expressing Anglican sentiments, when the occasion seems to require it. But the strongest theological sen- timents can always be expressed in civil language ; and if abuse be excusable in the pulpit or in a pamphlet, it is at least insuf- ferable in a scientific work of reference. A Dictionary should deal with facts and arguments; and facts and arguments are not to be disposed of by calling men "rationalists" and unbe- lievers. Nothing is to be gained by talking of " Schwegler the most reckless, and De Wette the most vacillating of modern critics," or quoting Dean Alford on "the insanity of hyper- criticism of Baur and Schwegler." Baur's criticism is else- where described as " the caricature of captiousness ;" and Dr. Thompson says "the authority of the books has been denied from a wish to set aside their contents." Lord Arthur Hervey would have conferred a real benefit on his readers if he had produced successful arguments in behalf of the books of Chro- nicles, instead of merely saying that Dahler, Keil, Movers, and others have done so, and that " it had been clearly shown that the attack [of De Wette and other German critics] was grounded not upon any real mark of spuriousness in the books themselves, but solely upon the desire of the cintics in question to remove a witness whose evidence was fatal to their favourite theory of the post-Babylonian origin of the books of Moses." This is the way in which a certain number of the contributors speak of men to whom thej^ are indebted for almost all the learning displayed in their articles, and with whose works it is impossible to be acquainted without seeing that their scep- ticism was perfectly honest, and grounded on scientific difficul- ties not less serious in their kind than those which would prevent a chemist or a naturalist from accepting a popular hypothesis on a scientific matter. If German Protestants are treated in this way in spite of the gratitude due to them, we need not expect that Catholics or Catholicism should be spoken of with ordinary civility. The nick-names " Romanism," " Romanist," " Romish," which well-bred gentlemen would not think of using in society where Catholics were present, are here used in what
Dr. Smith's Dictionary/ of the Bible. 627
professes to be a scientific Dictionary. And the " Church of Eorae" and '' E,omanisin" are made to bear the whole responsi- bility of things which are common to all Christians except Pro- testants. The Invention of the Cross is asserted by the Greek no less than by the Latin Fathers, and held by Abyssinian Monophysites and Nestorian Asiatics, no less than by Roman or Neapolitan Catholics ; yet Mr. F. W. Farrar writes, " It clearly was to the interest of the Church of Home to maintain the belief, and invent the story of its multiplication, because the sale of the relics was extremely profitable/^ The most narrow-minded dis- plays of anti" Catholic feeling are, however, to be found in the articles of Mr. F. Meyrick, of which we shall speak later on.
' II ne faut marquer que ce qui est certain,^ is a golden rule but little observed in Dr. Smith's Dictionary. Certainty is not to be obtained on all points ; and where it is not, we must be con- tent with the greatest amount of probability that can be found. But if we were asked to point out the model of such an article as ought on no account to be received into a Dictionary, we should select Professor Plumptre's on "Urim and Thummim." The subject is one of those about which, in consequence of their pro- found obscurity, there are "quot capita tot sententiae." No real light whatever is thrown upon it by Professor Plumptre. He proposes, in place of the many guesses hitherto made on the nature of the Urim and Thummim, to substitute some guesses of his own. We pass over his remarks on the Thummim, " the easier problem of the two," in which he has been anticipated by '^ the most orthodox of German theologians," Hengstenberg. Having identified the Thummim with a symbolic figure of Truth, like "the Egyptian Thmei,'' "we may legitimately ask w^hether there was any symbol of Light standing to the Urim in the same relation as that in which the symbolic figure of Truth stood to the Thummim. And the answer to that question is as follows : On the breast of well-nigh every member of the priestly caste of Egypt there hung a pectoral plate, correspond- ing in position and in size to the choshen of the high-priest of Israel. And in many of these we find, in the centre of the pectorale, right over the heart of the priestly mummy, as the Urim was to be ' on the heart' of Aaron, what was a well-known
symbol of Light The symbol in this case was the mystic
Scarabiaeus.'' We are aware that sufficient justice cannot be done to Professor Plumptre's ingenious hypothesis, without giving the entire chain of plausible reasonings by which it is supported. But it is not the less true that if we break the strongest of its links the whole chain disappears altogether. And the strongest link is broken if the plain truth is told, that the mystic Scarabaeus was placed as a talisman on the heart,
VOL. IV. 1 1
Dr, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible,
not of living priests, but of mummies, male and female. It was not by any means confined to ''members of the priestly caste of Egypt," but was prescribed apparently for all who cared to try its efiicacy, not as an oracle in life, as the Urim of the hi^h- priest, but as a protection in the world beyond the grave. The mode of consulting the IJrim is conjecturally illustrated by re- ference to the processes of h5rpnotism, as in " electro-biology," or the abstraction of the ofiSaXo'xIrv'x^LKol of the fourteenth cen- tury ; it being open to us to believe that these processes "may, in the less perfect stages of the spiritual history of mankind, have helped instead of hindering." This article is longer than any of those on the Gospels ; it has twice as many pages as that on the gospel of St. John. The proper place for speculations of this kind — and we are sorry to say that they are not confined to the article of which we have been speaking — is not a Dictionary, but the Transactions of a learned society.
Difiuseness in every form should have been banished from the Dictionary ; the contributors should have studied brevity and eschewed rhetoric. Wherever rhetoric is allowed in a work of the kind, it is made to do duty instead of argument. Some of the articles are of extravagant length. The informa- tion contained in "Wilderness of the Wandering" is extremely interesting; but if all the subjects had been treated in as copious a style, not three but thirty volumes would have been necessary. " Star of the Wise Men'' is a comparatively short article, but it is lengthened out by such unnecessary embellishments as the following :
" We shall now proceed to examine to wliat extent, or, as it will be seen, to how slight an extent, the. December conjunction fulfils the con- ditions of the narrative of St, Matthew. We can hardly avoid a feeling of regret at the dissipation of so fascinating an illusion ; but we are in quest of the truth rather than of a picture, however beautiful, (a) The writer must confess himself profoundly ignorant of any system of astro- logy ; but supposing that some system did exist," &c.
!N"o objection could be taken to this style in a dissertation, but it is quite out of place in a work where economy of words is of real scientific importance. The following is a specimen of the style of the article Lazarus :
" It is well not to break in upon the silence which hangs over the
interval of that 'four days' sleep' (comp. Trench, Miracles^ 1. c.)
But this much at least must be borne in mind, in order that we may understand what has yet to come, that the man who was thus recalled as on eagle's wings from the kingdom of the grave (comp. the language of the complaint of Hades in the apocryphal gospel of Nicodemus, Tischendorf, Evang. Apoc, p. 305) must have learnt ' what it is to die'
Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible. 6^
(comp. a passage of great beauty in Tennyson's In 3femoriam, xxxi. xxxii.). The soul that had looked with open gaze upon the things behind the veil had passed through a discipline sufficient to burn out all selfish love of the accidents of his outward life. There may have been an inward resurrection parallel with the outward (comp. Olshausen ad loc). What man had given over as impossible, had been shown in a twofold sense to be possible with God."
The miscliief of admitting this sort of composition will, we hope, be keenly felt when it is discovered that the argumentative part of the article on the Pentateuch is very weak, and concludes with a passage beginning as follows :
" But, in truth, the book [of Deuteronomy] speaks for itself. No imitator could have written in such a strain. We scarcely need the express testimony of the work to its own authorship ; but, having it, we find all the internal evidence conspiring to show that it came from Moses. Those magnificent discourses, the grand roll of which can be heard and felt even in a translation, came from the heart and fresh from the lips of Israel's lawgiver. They are the outpourings of a solicitude which is nothing less than parental. It is the father uttering his dying- advice to his children, no less than the prophet counselling and admon- ishing his people. What book can vie with it, either in majesty or in tenderness ? What words ever bore more surely the stamp of genuine- ness ? ... .In spite, therefore, of the dogmatism of modern critics, we declare unhesitatingly for the Mosaic authorship of Deuteronomy."
It is certainly much easier to declaim in this fashion than to reply to De Wette in De Wette^s own style.
From these specimens of defects, which are too common throughout the Dictionary, we proceed to a closer inspection of some of the most important articles, and particularly those belonging to the department of " Introduction.^^
The article '* Bible," by Professor Plumptre, of King's Col- lege, London, is not very important, as the history of the growth of the collections known as the Old and New Testa- ment respectively is given under " Canon." The following passage, however, betrays an extraordinary want either of knowledge or of historical sense :
" The LXX. presents . . . some striking variations in point of ar- rangement, as well as in relation to the names of books. Both in this and in the insertion of the avTiKeyo^tva, which we now know as the Apocrypha, among the other books, we trace the absence of that strong reverence for the canon and its traditional order which distinguished the Jews of Palestine."
The writer does not see that he is here taking for granted a very important fact, which has never yet been proved, namely, the existence of an authoritative canon or tradition anterior to the arrangement of the Septuagint.
630 Dr, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible,
If we turn to Mr. Westcott's article on " the Canon of Scripture," in tlie hope of finding evidence on the subject, we shall be disappointed. The account there given of the Jewish canon is extremely unsatisfactory. The writer allows that before the exile only faint traces occur of the solemn preserva- tion and use of sacred books, and that even after the Captivity " the history of the canon, like all Jewish history up to the date of the Maccabees, is wrapt in great obscurity. Faint tra- ditions alone remain to interpret results which are found real- ised when the darkness is first cleared away." But Mr. West- cott is inclined to attach importance to the " popular belief" which assigned to Ezra and the " great synagogue" the task of collecting and promulgating the Scriptures. But this popular belief cannot be shown to have been in existence till many centuries after the death of Ezra, and the tradition about the " great synagogue" is demonstrably unhistorical. It is fabulous in its details, and involves incredible anachronisms. Ezra, the contemporary of Artaxerxes Longimanus, is made to preside over an assembly of which Haggai and Zechariah, contempo- raries of Darius Hystaspes, and Simon the Just, the contemporary of Alexander the Great, were members. An attempt to extract history out of such a tradition is not less hopeless than if we had to deal with the story of Eomulus. The following are Mr. Westcott's not very critical remarks upon it :
" Doubts have been thrown upon the beHef {Eau de Synag. magndj 1726 ; comp. Ewald, Ge^ch. d. V. Isr. iv. 191), and it is difficult to answer them, from the scantiness of the evidence of the books them- selves ; but the belief is in every way consistent with the history of Judaism and with the internal evidence of the books themselves. The later embellishments of the tradition, w^hich represent Ezra as the second author of all the books [2 Esdras], or defines more exactly the nature of his work, can only be accepted as signs of the universal belief in his labours, and ought not to cast discredit upon the simple fact that the foundation of the present canon is due to him. Nor can it be supposed that the w^ork was completed at once, so that the account (2 Mace. ii. 13) which assigns a collection of books to Nehemiah is not described as initiatory or final. . The tradition omits all mention of the law, which may be supposed to have assumed its final shape luider Ezra, but says that Nehemiah ' gathered together the [writings] con- cerning the kings and prophets, and the [writings] of David and letters of kings concerning offerings,' while * founding a library.' "
We have no right to talk of the " later embellishments" of a story when we meet them in the earliest form in which it has been handed down to us. Again, if the story is to be admitted at all, in any form, Mr. "Westcott's notion that the foundation of the canon is to be attributed to Ezra, but that the work was
Dr, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible. 631
not completed at once, must be given up. Tlie notion is not in itself Lin improbable one ; but it is quite irreconcileable with the Jewish tradition of " Ezra and the great synagogue" which was invented for the purpose of accounting, among other things, for the existence of the Jewish canon as a complete and final ar- rangement. The passage quoted from the second book of Mac- cabees, far from implying the formation or growth of a canon of Scripture, would rather seem to prove that in the time of Nehemiah the works which he mentioned were not yet con- sidered parts of a sacred canon.
When was the Jewish canon closed, and what books did it then contain ? Is there any proof that it was closed before the Christian period ? In 1842 Movers published a short disserta- tion, entitled Loci quidam historic^ canonis Veteris Testamenti illustratiy in which it is maintained, with great learning and ability, that the latter question must be answered in the nega- tive. Some, indeed, of the views defended by Movers are very paradoxical ; but the principal result of his enquiry has not been overthrown. The latest researches tend to prove that the pre- sent Hebrew canon is not of earlier date than the destruction of Jerusalem, and that it is an anachronism to ascribe to the Apostles and earliest Christians an idea of the Scripture which only became authoritative among the Jews after the final rup- ture between the Synagogue and the Church. Mr. Westcott does not seem to be aware that so vital a question has been seriously raised, and that the very position which he assumes when collecting his evidence on the canon has thereby been turned.
He considers the statement of the Talmud as in many respects so remarkable that it must be transcribed entire. It is as follows : " But who wrote the books of the Bible ? Moses wrote his own book (?) , the Pentateuch, the section about Balaam, and Job. Joshua wrote his own book, and the eight last verses of the Pentateuch. Samuel wrote his own book, the Book of Judges, and Euth. David wrote the Book of Psalms, of which, however, some were composed by the ten venerable elders, Adam the first man, Melchizedek, Abraham, Moses, Haman, Jeduthun, Asaph, and the three sons of Korah. Jeremiah wrote his own book, the books of Kings and Lamentations. Hezekiah and his friends [reduced to writing] the books con- tained in the memorial word laMSCHaK, i. e. Isaiah, Proverbs, Canticles, Ecclesiastes. The men of the great synagogue [re- duced to writing] the books contained in the memorial letters KaNDaGr, ^. e. Ezekiel, the twelve lesser prophets, Daniel, and Esther. Ezra wrote his own book, and brought down the genealogies of the books of the Chronicles to his own times. . . .
632 Dr. Smith* s Dictionary of the Bible,
Who brought the remainder of the books [of Chronicles] to a close ? Nehemiah the son of Hachalijah.'' It ought surely to be manifest to every scholar that this passage cannot be of the smallest historical value. Some of the statements in it are pal- pably absurd. Samuel could not have written " his book/' that is, the book which bears his name. It records his death, and the whole history of the reign of David. But Mr. Westcott quietly says, " The details must be tested by other evidence ; but the general description of the growth of the Jewish canon bears every mark of probability." He cannot understand that the passage is not evidence at alF; that when the details sug- gested by the names of the books, and the details which " other evidence" overthrows, are taken into consideration, the whole has no more value as evidence than a similar statement made by a Jew or Christian in the fifteenth or in the nineteenth century.
It is not true, at least there is no evidence at all, " that at the beginning of the Christian era the Jews had only one canon of the sacred writings, defined distinctly in Palestine, and ad- mitted, though with a less definite apprehension of its peculiar characteristics, by the hellenising Jews of the dispersion, and that this canon was recognised, as far as can be determined, by our Lord and His Apostles." This error leads Mr. "Westcott altogether astray, when he comes to speak of the Christian canon.
" The history of the Old Testament canon among Christian writers exhibits the natural issue of the currency of the LXX., enlarged as it has been by apocryphal additions. In proportion as the Fathers were more or less absolutely dependent on that version for their knowledge of the Old Testament Scriptures, they gradually lost in common prac- tice the sense of the difference between the books of the Hebrew canon and the Apocrypha. The custom of individuals grew into the custom of the Church ; and the public use of the Apocryphal books obliterated in popular regard the characteristic marks of their origin and A'alue, which could only be discovered by the scholar. But the custom of the Church was not fixed in an absolute judgment. It might seem as if the great leaders of the Christian- body shrank by a wise forethought from a work for which they were unfitted ; for by acquirements and constitu- tions they were little capable of solving a problem which must at last depend on historical data. And this remark must be applied to the details of patristic evidence on the contents of the canon. Their habit must be distinguished from their judgment. The want of critical tact which allowed them to use the most obviously pseudonymous works (2 Esdras, Enoch) as genuine productions of their supposed authors, or as * divine Scripture,' greatly diminishes the value of casual and iso- lated testimonies to single books."
It is Mr. Westcott*s reverence, no doubt, for the Apostles
Dr, Smithes Dictionary of the Bible. 633
and other writers of the New Testament which leads him to place implicit reliance on their critical judgment, and to throw the responsibility for erroneous views of the canon upon " the Fathers," who "gradually" lost the sense of a difference be- tween the books of the Hebrew canon and the Apocrypha. The gradual change of which he speaks is a fiction of which there is no trace in history. The earliest Fathers do not exhibit a greater consciousness of the difference between the Hebrew and Greek texts of the Scripture than their successors. And if the " critical tact" of some of the Fathers was so weak as to permit their quoting the books of Enoch and 2 Esdras as genuine and inspired works, what shall we say of St. Jude^s quotations from the former of these books as from a genuine " prophecy" ? The writers of the New Testament quote the Septuagint habitually ; and it is really no unfair question to ask for proof that they recognised the differences between it and the Hebrew text. It is an unwarrantable assumption to take for granted that the inhabitants of Palestine were in general familiar with the He- brew Scriptures. To the great mass of the Jews of Palestine in the time of our Lord the Hebrew Scriptures were practically inaccessible. But a knowledge of the Greek language was as common as that of Hebrew was rare ; and the Septuagint ver- sion was current wherever the Greek language was spoken, that is in all the great towns of Palestine. It may have been held as an abomination by those zealots who execrated Greek learning, arts, and philosophy, and even the use of the Greek tongue ; but the time of their ascendancy in the Jewish Church was not yet arrived. The New Testament writers do not merely quote the Septuagint as a convenient version : their arguments are built upon it even when it varies essentially from the He- brew. If their quotations occasionally approach nearer in sense to the Hebrew than our present text of the Septuagint, it is unsafe to infer, as is constantly done, that they themselves cor- rect the Septuagint by the Hebrew original. There were un- doubtedly various readings of the Septuagint in the days of the Apostles, as there were in the days of Origen. And it is not improbable that copies current in Palestine were frequently corrected from the Hebrew, just as copies of the old Latin ver- sion of the Scriptures are found to have been corrected from the Greek original.
The case of Josephus is very remarkable. What Mr. West- cott says about him would lead one to conclude that he adhered rigidly to the Hebrew Scriptures. Nothing can be further from the truth. It has been proved by M. Eeuss that Josephus was to all appearance unacquainted with the text of more than one of the Old Testament writings. But we have only to turn to Lord
634 Dr. Smitlis Dictionarij of the Bible.
Arthur Hervey's article, "Book of Neliemiali/' for the assurance that *' Josephus does not follow the authority of the book of Nehe- miah/' '* As regards the appending the history in Neh. viii. to the times of Ezra, we know that he was guided by the authority of the apocryphal 1 Esdras, as he had been in the whole story of Zerubbabel and Darius/' " There are," says the same writer in a later article, *' two histories of Zerubbabel ; the one that is con- tained in the canonical Scriptures, the other that in the apo- cryphal books and Josephus." Is it not equally true, that the only book of Ezra known to him is the apocryphal Esdras? Let it be remembered that Josephus was no obscure Jew of the dispersion, but a Jew born in Jerusalem, of the blood of the Asmonaean princes, belonging to the first cf the twenty-four courses of the priestly office ; and that he was a Pharisee, and one of the most highly educated men of his nation : and we shall see that it is an evident mistake to attribute to his con- temporaries and fellow-countrymen in general such a loiow- ledge of the Hebrew Scriptures as is often supposed, or that strict adherence to them which in his day was probably con- fined to the extreme zealots of the synagogue.
The ideas of these zealots became dominant in the syna- gogue after the fall of Jerusalem. Greek ideas, Greek learning, and the use of the Greek language for liturgical purposes, came to be considered almost as tokens of apostasy ; and the existence of the Septuagint, to which the Christians constantly appealed in controversy, was looked upon as a calamity. Those portions of the Talmud which represent the ideas of which we are speak- ing, say that " darkness came upon the world for three days when the Law was written in Greek." " It was a mournful day for Israel, like that on which the calf was made." It was, no doubt, at a time when ideas like these were dominant within the synagogue that the Hebrew canon was finally closed ; and it was not likely that men who could not tolerate the Pentateuch in the Septuagint should recognise as Holy Scripture books whose Hebrew original was lost, or which had never existed in Hebrew ; some of them, like the book of Wisdom, even bearing distinct marks of the hated *' Ionic science." This violent anti- Hellenistic reaction was not confined in its effects to the Jews of Palestine, but spread throughout the Jewish community. The authority of the Septuagint was now repudiated ; and it is sig- nificant of the times that in the second century three Greek versions at least of the Old Testament were executed in oppo- sition and contradiction to the Septuagint, and in close con- formity with the Hebrew text. Besides the renowned versions of Aquila, Theodotion, and Symmachus, no less than three others were discovered by Origen, all of them, it can hardly be
Dr, Smitlis Dictiorianj of the Bible. 635
doubted, works of Jewish translators. If it be true tliat Tbeo- dotion and Symmaclius were Ebionites, it is clear that the re- action was shared by those Christians who adhered to Judaism, as far as it was possible to do so without denj'ing the Messianic dignity of our Lord. But the feeling which seems to have pre- vailed throughout the Jewish world in the second century was utterly foreign to the writers of the New Testament and to the early Christian Church. The Church had no reason whatever for allowing herself to be guided by the decision of narrow- minded Jews, more bigoted than those who had crucified our Lord. She had long since been emancipated from the syna- gogue ; and in determining the canon of the Old Testament she had no other principle to follow than that by which she was guided in determining a canon of the New, that is, her own perception of the Word of God, which she recognised by virtue of the Spirit of God abiding within her. What Calvin teaches about the " interior witness" revealed to the individual believer is what the Church has ever held as true with reference to the body of believers. It is quite true, as Mr. Westcott says, that the Christian canon of Scripture grew by use, not by enquiry. "The canon of Scripture was fixed in ordinary practice, and doubts were resolved by custom and not by criticism." No amount of enquiry or criticism could have solved the question. If the problem had been made to depend on historical data, a canon of the New Testament would have been impossible. The historical data of which he speaks never existed. The learned Fathers of the Church who made enquiries about the Hebrew canon seem never to have thought it requisite to pursue their research beyond the question as to what books the Jews in their own day held as canonical.
Mr. Westcott's selection of patristic evidence with reference to the Christian canon of the Old Testament is not intentionally unfair ; it is his method which leads him to attach undue im- portance to a certain class of passages in the Fathers, in com- parison with others. The " canon of Origen," for instance, as it is called, has no right whatever to be placed in a list of "Christian catalogues of the books of the Old Testament." It is not given by Origen as a Christian catalogue, but expressly as one fcaO' 'E^paLov<;. All the deliberate judgments of Origen are opposed to it. Mr. Westcott's note, though not sufficiently explicit, may be considered as in some degree stating the evidence on the second side of the question. But he gives only one side of St. Jerome's evidence, and does not allow his readers to suspect that there is another of no less importance. For a perfectly impartial statement of the whole evidence, we refer them to M. Reuss's recent work on the Canon. What renders Mr. West-
636 Dr. SmWs Dictionary of the Bible,
cott's unfairness the more striking is, that he takes great pains to contrast with St. Augustine's acceptance of the Deutero- canon- ical books all the isolated passages which seem to tell against them.
Professor Plumptre's article, " Apocrypha," becomes of very- little value as soon as the historical account of the use of the word " apocryphal" is finished. The supposed characteristics of the Apocr>^ha are given as if the writer were utterly unconscious that the very same qualities or defects had long since been pre- dicated of books belonging to the Hebrew canon. The absence of the j)rophetic spirit can hardly be said to be peculiar to Deutero- canonical books. And when the writer proceeds to speak of want of originality, " repetition of the language of older prophets," and the arbitrary combinations of dreams and symbols, it is impossible not to confront him with his own words on another occasion. In the article " Jeremiah" he says :
** Criticisms on the ' style' of a prophet are indeed, for the most part, whether they take the form of praise or blame, wanting both in .rever- ence and discernment. We do not gain much by knowing that to one ■writer he appears at once ' sermone quidem , . . quibusdam aliis pro- phetis rusticior' (Hieron. Prcef. in Jerem.), and yet ' majestate sensuum profundissimus' (Proem, in c. L.); . . . that bolder critics find in him a great want of originality (Knobel, Prophetismus)', * symbolical images of an inferior order, and symbolical actions unskilfully contrived' (Davidson, Introd. to 0. T. c. xix.)."
Another supposed characteristic of the Apocrypha is the ten- dency to pass ofi" supposititious books under the cover of illus- trious names. *' The books of Esdras, the additions to Daniel, the letters of Baruch and Jeremiah, and the Wisdom of Solomon, are obviously of this character." That some of the Deutero-can- onical books are pseudonymous is certain enough ; but are there no pseudonymous books among the Hebrew Scriptures ? The Canticles and Ecclesiastes, which bear the name of Solomon, probably belong to the latest productions of Hebrew literature. Professor Plumptre, in speaking of the Salomonic authorship of Ecclesiastes, allows that inspired writers need not be supposed to have been debarred from forms of composition which were open to others.
*'ln the literature of every other nation the form of personated authorship, where there is no animus decipiendi, has been recognised as a legitimate channel for the expression of opinions, or the quasi-dra- matic representations of character. Why should we venture on the assertion that if adopted by the writers of the Old Testament it would have made them guilty of a falsehood, and been inconsistent with their inspiration ?"'
The historv of the sacred text itself is given in " Old Testa-
Dr, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible, 637
ment" and "New Testament," which are, on the whole, respectable articles ; the former by Dr. Thompson of New York, the latter by Mr. Westcott. The section, however, by Dr. Thompson on " Quotations from the Old Testament in the New Testament/' might have been suppressed without any loss to the reader. It is almost ludicrously superficial ; and much of it is certainly erroneous. The old view that the New Testament writers cor- rected the Septuagint version from the Hebrew when neces- sary is given as if unquestionable ; and we are told that " when the errors involved in the Septuagint version do not interfere with the purpose which the New Testament writer had in view, they are frequently allowed to remain in his quotation. '^ Yet it is granted that " the current of apostolic thought too is fre- quently dictated by words of the Septuagint which differ much from the Hebrew .... or even an absolute interpolation of the Septuagint is quoted^ Heb. i. 6 (Deut. xxxii. 43),^' expressly as the word of God, it might have been added. Hengstenberg's very insufficient explanation of the circumstance that in Matt. xxvii. 9 Jeremiah is named as the author of a prophecy of Zechariah, is given with applause. In the first and most im- portant section of the article we do not see that, in speaking of the Talmud, the writer gives an accurate idea of the value to be attached to the quotations found in it from the Old Testament ; and he is silent as to the difference in this regard between its printed copies and the manuscripts of it.
" Samaritan Pentateuch^' is one of the uniformly excellent articles of Mr. Emmanuel Deutsch, who has also written that on the Samaritan version, and given some account of the Samaritan literature. His articles on the Targums, in spite of the belief expressed in the tradition of Ezra's connection with " that most important religious and political body called the Great Syna- gogue, or Men of the Great Assembly/' are among the most valuable in the Dictionary.
When speaking, a few pages back, about the change of feel- ing among the Jews towards the Septuagint, we should have been glad to notice Dr. Selwyn's account of the matter ; but there is none whatever in his article '* Septuagint," one of the most superficial in the whole work. The dominant feeling in the writer's mind appears to be the principle, which he prints in italics, "never to build any argument on words or phrases of the Septuagint without comparing them with the Hebrew" The danger here deprecated is one to which Englishmen of the nineteenth century are but little exposed. The author of the Epistle to the Hebrews, on the contrary, never fails to violate the principle of Dr. Selwyn ; a further index to whose mind when writing this article may be found in the suggestion to
638 Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible.
provide a new Greek version, "accurate and faithful to the Hebrew original," — that is, we suppose, the Masoretic re- cension— " for the use of the Greek Church, and of students reading the Scriptures in that language for the purposes of devotion and mental improvement."
" Yulgate," by Mr. Westcott, is an article ofa very different order of merit, and, from the writer's point of view, could hardly have been surpassed. It is full of information, and is in general perfectly fair. He calls attention to the fact insisted upon by Bellarmine and other great theologians, but strangely overlooked in later controversies, that the decree of the Council of Trent does not make any reference to the original text of the Bible, but merely gives the preference to the Yulgate over other Latin versions. In his account, however, of the Sixtine and Clemen- tine editions of the Yulgate, Bellarmine's conduct is spoken of with the most unjustifiable harshness. That great writer states, in his preface to the Clementine edition, that Sixtus Y., having perceived the number of clerical errors which had crept into the Bible prepared b)^ him, decreed that the whole impression should be recalled. " Of this," says Mr. Westcott, " there is not the faintest shadow of proof." But surely the onus j^rohandi here lies not upon Bellarmine, but upon those who deny his assertion. That the numerous clerical errors of the Sixtine text were recognised by the Pontiff himself is evident from the copies which got into circulation ; they abound with corrections made by the pen, or printed on slips of paper pasted over the errata. But the words of Bellarmine's preface are interpreted by other expressions of his found in his autobiography. Mr. Westcott writes :
" On tlie accession of Gregory XIY. some went so far as to propose that the edition of Sixtus should be absolutely prohibited ; but Bel- larmine suggested a middle course. He proposed that the erroneous alterations of the text which had been made in it (qvce male mutata erant) should be corrected with all possible speed, and tlie Bible re- printed under the name of Sixtus, with a prefatory note, to the effect that errors {aliqua errata) had crept into the former edition by the carelessness of the printers. This pious fraud, or rather daring false- hood— for it can be called by no other name — found favour with those in power."
When people talk so boldly about "daring falsehoods" they should be very careful about the accuracy of their own state- ments. Now the statement in Mr. Westcott's text is, as it stands, calumnious. It implies that the word errata is con- fined to printers' errors, whereas it was used by Bellarmine and his contemporaries-^ in a sense including " quoo male rau-
2 Sixtus Senensis, for instance, in the last page of his Bibliothcca Sancta,
Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible, 639
tata erant;" and Mr. Westcott translates " typographorum \"EL ALiORUM incuria" ^^by the carelessness of the printers," thus leaving out words implying that others besides printers were to blame. There can be no doubt that Bellarmine wished to save the Pope's honour ; that he proposed to do this by throwing the whole blame on the printers is untrue ; and his preface to the Clementine edition, though speaking of the errors of the press in the Sixtine, does not say that the new edition was a mere corrected reproduction of its predecessor. The revision of the text is simply avowed, and expressly said to have been finished in the beginning of the pontificate of Cle- ment YIII.
Other " Ancient Yersions" are described by Dr. Tregelles. His articles are, in general, summaries of what he has elsewhere written on the same subjects. His observations, however, on the proposal by the late Canon Eogers for a new edition of the Peschito, and those on a personal controversy between himself and Mr. Scrivener, strike us as being singularly out of place in Dr. Smith's Dictionary.
The insufficiency of the information given in Mr. Perowne's articles on " Genesis," " Exodus," " Deuteronomy," and " Pen- tateuch" is particularly remarkable at a moment when the curiosity of the public has been awakened by the controversy occasioned by the publication of Dr. Colenso's work. Mr. Perowne's conclusions are in favour of what is called the authenticity of the Pentateuch ; but they are not supported by sufficiently strong arguments. And indeed it may be doubted whether his admissions on the other side of the question are not such as to outweigh the evidence on which he chiefly relies. He produces certain references of time and place " which prove clearly that the work, in its jjresent form, is later than the time of Moses." The genealogical table of Esau^s family (Gen. xxxvi.), for instance, contains the remark, "And these are the kings that reigned in the land of Edom, before there reigned any king over the children of Israel." On this Mr. Perowne says : " No unprejudiced person can read the words . . . with- out feeling that when they were written kings had already be- gun to reign over Israel. It is a simple historical fact, that for centuries after the death of Moses no attempt was made to establish a monarchy amongst the Jews." He admits, moreover, that the genealogical table in which the words occur could not have been an interpolation ; " it is a most essential part of the
includes under the errata of the Vulgate " soloecismos, barbarisraos, hyperbata, et raulta parum accommodate versa, et minus Latine expressa, obscure et am- bigue interpretata, itemque nonnulla superaddita, aliaque omissa, quoedam transposita, immutata, ac vitio scriptorum depravata."
640 Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible,
structure" of the book of Genesis. But ** this particular verse" may be the interpolation of a later editor. There is in fact, he thinks, abundant evidence to show that, though the main bulk of the Pentateuch is Mosaic, certain detached portions of it are of later growth. " It may have undergone many later revisions and corrections, the last of these being certainly as late as the time of Ezra." " The whole work did not finally assume its present shape till its revision was undertaken by Ezra, after the return from the Babylonish captivity.'^ We must once more repeat, that there is no historical evidence that Ezra ever revised the Pentateuch. All the supposed interpolations, cor- rections, or glosses, that may be discovered in it, are the work of men with reference to whom we know nothing. How large a portion of the entire Pentateuch did they write ? What proof is there that the " main bulk" of it is really Mosaic ? That it was already in existence eight hundred years before Christ is what no one doubts. Is there earlier evidence in its favour ? The evidence '* lying outside of the Pentateuch itself" is di- vided by ^Ir. Perowne into three kinds : " first, direct mention of the work as already existing in the later books of the Bible ; secondly, the existence of a book substantially the same as the present Pentateuch amongst the Samaritans ; and lastly, allu- sion less direct, such as historical references, quotations, and the like, which presuppose its existence." The second kind of evidence, derived from the Samaritan Pentateuch, is given up by Mr. Perowne. The Samaritan Pentateuch contains *' those passages which are manifestly interpolations and cor- rections as late as the time of Ezra." " And we incline to the view of Prideaux, . . . that the Samaritan Pentateuch was in fact a transcript of Ezra^s revised copy." The third kind of evidence, drawn from allusions, historical references, quota- tions, and the like, begins with the prophets Joel, Amos, and Hosea ; that is, not earlier than B.C. 800. The whole ancient external evidence of the Mosaic authorship of the Pentateuch is therefore reduced to the first kind mentioned by Mr. Perowne. In collecting this, he first refers to several passages of the book of Joshua in which Moses is mentioned as the author of the book of the law ; but he admits *' that they cannot be cited as prov- ing that the Pentateuch in its present form and all its parts is Mosaic.'' He might have added, that they rather add a diffi- culty to all the rest. In one of the passages to which he refers it is said that Joshua made a covenant with the people on the day in which he took leave of the Israelites, " and set them a statute and an ordinance in Shechem. And Joshua wrote these words in the book of the law of God." Now, it is quite certain that the book of the law of God here referred to does not mean our
Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible, 641
present Pentateuch. " The book of Judges does not speak of the book of the law/^ "It is a little remarkable, however, that no direct mention of it occurs in the books of Samuel. Considering the express provision made for a monarchy in Deuteronomy, we should have expected that on the first ap- pointment of a king some reference would have been made to the requirements of the law. A prophet like Samuel, we might have thought, could not fail to direct the attention of the newly made king to the book in accordance with which he was to go- vern. But if he did this, the history does not tell us so ; though, there are, it is true, allusions which can only be interpreted on the supposition that the law was known.^' Why are these not specified ? " .The first mention of the law of Moses after the establishment of the monarchy is in David's charge to his son Solomon on his deathbed (1 Kings ii. 3)." " The words, *as it is written in this law of Moses,' show that some portLon, at any rate, of our present Pentateuch is referred to, and that the law was received as the law of Moses !' It is impossible to prove that any portion of the Pentateuch is referred to in the passage quoted ; but even were the reverse of this true, we have come down to writings which were not composed till the Babylonian exile.
The chief argument, however, on which Mr. Perowne relies is the express testimony of the book of Deuteronomy,* which claims to be from the hand of Moses himself. He is mistaken, we think, in saying that " all allow that the book of the cove- nant in Exodus, perhaps a great part of Leviticus, and some part of Numbers, were written by Israel's greatest leader and prophet." It is a strange misapprehension of the controversy to imagine that the genuineness of Deuteronomy is questioned because it is in style and purpose so utterly uulike the genuine wiHtings of Moses. The evidence to which Mr. Perowne appeals in behalf of the antiquity of the book consists, first, in the allu- sions to Egypt ; secondly, in the phraseology of the book and the archaisms found in it, which " stamp it as of the same age with the rest of the Pentateuch" (but he has not proved the antiquity of the rest of the Pentateuch) ; thirdly, in the fond- ness for the use of figures, some of which are peculiar to it, to the " book of the Covenant,^^ and to Psalm xc, which is said to
^ Mr. Perowne grants that in the reign of Josiah the existence of Deutero- nomy as a canonical book " seems to have been almost forgotten." We could hardly have thought it possible to find the following note to his explanation on the discovery of the book of the law: "That even in monasteries the Bible ■was a neglected and almost unknown book, is clear from the story of Luther's conversion." If Mr. Perowne is not aware that he is here referring to a false- hood long since exploded, let him read Maitland's Dark Ages, (p. 468 et seq.), and blush at his own ignorance.
64-2 Dr, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible,
be Mosaic ; and fourthly, in the acquaintance of the prophets \vith it. If all this evidence be put together and allowed to pass unquestioned, which is more than any of Mr. Perowne's opponents can be expected to consent to, it will not prove a higher antiquity than the time of Samuel. He is therefore obliged to have recourse to rhetoric, and concludes with the passage which we have already quoted : *' But in truth the book speaks for itself. No imitator could have written" — and so forth.
The coexistence of the Elohistic and Jehovistic portions in the Pentateuch is not in itself an argument against the Mosaic authorship of the Pentateuch ; for Moses, as the Jehovistic com- piler and editor, might have incorporated Elohistic documents with his work. The argument, however, becomes a powerful one when it is found that the Elohistic and Jehovistic docu- ments continue to run through the book of Joshua ; but the importance of this fact is ignored both by Mr. Perowne and by Mr. Bullock, the writer of the short and meagre article " Book of Joshua."
Many of the critical remarks of Mr. Twistleton on the " Books of SamueP' are just and important ; but they rather represent part of the scaffolding of an edifice, than the edifice itself which ought to have been constructed.
Lord Arthur Hervey considers the Jewish tradition which ascribes the first and second books of Kings to Jeremiah as " borne out by the strongest internal evidence, in addition to that of the language." These are, at all events, he believes, the work of " a trustworthy historian, who cites contemporary documents as his authority (let alone the peculiar character of the Bible histories as * given by inspiration of God')." " It must, however, be admitted that the chronological details expressly given in the books of Kings form a remarkable contrast with their striking historical accuracy." The very first date of a decidedly chronological character which is given is manifestly erroneous. Numerous other dates are also certainly wrong. These chronological difficulties are of two kinds. One is the mere want of the data necessary for chronological exactness ; '* but the other kind of difficulty is of a totally different cha- racter, and embraces dates which are vei^y exact in their mode of expression, but are erroneous and contradictory." Such difficulties Lord Arthur Hervey believes to be owing to the interpolations of a professed chronologist, whose object was to reduce Scripture history to an exact system of chronology. The omission of some chronological passages in the Septuagint would be a strong argument in favour of this hypothesis, were it not that the Hebrew and Greek texts disagree in many im-
Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible. 643
portant passages, wMcli our author enumerates and comments upon in a spirit very unfavourable to the Septuagint. *' These variations/^ he says, " illustrate a characteristic tendency of the Jewish mind to make interesting portions of the Scriptures the groundwork of separate religious tales, which they altered or added to according to their fancy, without any regard to his- tory or chronology/''
The articles on the books of Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther, are by the same writer, whose contributions to the history of the Old Testament literature appear to improve pro- gressively in alphabetical order.
When biblical critics assert the integrity of a book of Scrip- ture, they mean that it is complete, and that all its parts are written by one and the same writer, or at least put together by him. Of all the prophetical books, that of Zechariah is, we believe, the first that was questioned in this respect. But the earliest doubts as to its integrity were not suggested by the desire to impugn its divine authority, or to attack the inspira- tion of Scripture. They were suggested by a motive of an exactly opposite kind, namely, the wish to defend the accuracy of a text in the New Testament. A remarkable passage from the eleventh chapter of Zechariah is described in St. Matthew's gospel " as spoken by the prophet Jeremias." There must, to all appearance, be a mistake somewhere ; either the author of the gospel is mistaken in ascribing the passage to Jeremiah, or the passage and the whole context to which it belongs are wrongly placed among the prophecies of Zechariah. St. Jerome, St. Augustine, and most commentators after them, adopted the first alternative. Mode first proposed the hypothesis, "that the evangelist would inform us that those latter chapters, ascribed to Zachary (namely, 9th, 10th, 11th, &c.), are indeed the prophecies of Jeremy ; and that the Jews had not rightly attributed them." "There is no Scripture saith they are Zach- ary's ; but there is Scripture saith they are Jeremy's, — as this of the evangelist. As for these being joined to the prophecies of Zachary, that proves no more that they are his than the like joining of Agar's proverbs to Solomon's proves that they are therefore Solomon's, or that all the psalms are David's because joined in one volume with David's psalms." He en- deavoured to show that the historical standpoint of the author of these chapters was utterly diiferent from, and inappropriate to, that of Zechariah.'^ He was followed b}^ Hammond, Bishop Kidder, and Newcome, Protestant archbishop of Armagh. The last-named writer was chiefly led by the internal evidence of a difierence of style and historical standpoint to maintain that
■' Mede's Works, Epist. xxxi. p. 786. VOL. IV. U U
64A; Br, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible.
the six last chapters could not have been written by Zechariah, the son of Iddo. " They seem/^ he says, " to suit Hosea's age and manner. But, whoever wrote them, their divine authority is established by the two quotations from them in the New Testament/'^
The integrity of the book of Zechariah is one of those ques- tions which would naturally call forth all the learning and ingenuity of the great German critics. The majority of them are decidedly unfavourable to it. But the difficulties of the subject are very great ; and De Wette, who denied the integrity in the three first editions of his Introduction, finished by ad- mitting the insufficiency of the arguments on that side of the question.7 The arguments on both sides are very fairly given by Mr. Perowne ; and we really cannot blame him for hesi- tating to decide between them. "Indeed, it is not easy to say," he concludes, " which way the weight of evidence pre- ponderates."
A far more important question is that concerning the in- tegrity of the book of Isaiah. The article " Isaiah" is one of considerable extent, and, from its subject, ought to have been one of the most important in the Dictionary. It has, however, been written by a thoroughly incompetent person, who, instead of mastering the difficulties of his subject, has produced a feeble apology of the old view of the literary question. It is well known that the overwhelming majority of eminent scholars are of opinion that the second part of the prophecies (the last twenty-seven chapters), attributed to Isaiah, are the work, not of Isaiah, but of a later prophet. The list of these scholars is admitted by Mr. Huxtable to be, in point of numbers, of cri- tical ability, and of profound Hebrew scholarship, sufficiently imposing. "Nevertheless," he says, "when we come to en- quire into their grounds of objection, we soon cease to attach much value to this formidable array of authorities." When we, on the other hand, come to enquire into his mode of look- ing at the matter, we see that, instead of asking himself what truth may be beneath the mass of evidence which so many learned men have collected, independently of the method ac- cording to which each of them ma)'' have chosen to state it, he has simply taken up a controversial position, and stated their evidence in a form which, although unobjectionable from a
" Newcome, Minor Prophets^ p. 195.
' Mr. Perowne is hardly justified in saying that "when De Wette, after having adopted the theory of different authors, felt himself obliged to abandon it ... . and to vindicate the integrity of the book, the ground for a post-exile date must be very strong." The ground for a post-exile date ks- very strong ; but De Wette did not exactly vindicate the integrity of the book. He merely allowed its possibility.
Br, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible. 6if5
" Rationalist" point of view, and therefore adopted by some of the critics in question, cannot but appear extremely weak to English, and particularly to orthodox Protestant, minds. This is not unfair in one controversialist arguing against another ; but a critic is bound to rise above the ai^giimentum ad hominem. His position is that, not of an advocate, but of a judge. Mr. Huxtable altogether misapprehends the literary question at issue. One of his arguments is drawn from the predictions contained in the second book as to the character, sufferings, death, and glorification of Jesus Christ. "A be- liever in Christ,'' he says, " cannot fail to regard those predic- tions as affixing to this second part the broad seal of divine in- spiration, tuhereby the chief ground of objection against its having been written by Isaiah is at once annihilated." The question is utterly independent of that of inspiration. The high Anglican authorities who doubted or denied the integrity of the book of Zechariah never dreamed of questioning the inspiration of the second prophet, whose writings they believed to have been added to those of Zechariah. iTsTo one denies that the author of the second part of the book attributed to Isaiah is as true and inspired a prophet as any whose names we know. And it would be well if, in examining a question like that of the in- tegrity of the book of Isaiah, orthodox critics could forget for the time that the evidence on the subject was first put toge- ther by men less orthodox than themselves. It can hardly be doubted that, if philological and critical science had been cul- tivated in Catholic Italy and Spain with as much activity and success as in Protestant Germany, Italian and Spanish critics would, without sacrificing a particle of their orthodoxy, have arrived at the same conclusions on the literary character of the book of Isaiah as Eichhorn, De Wette, Gesenius, and Ewald.
Mr. Huxtable has stated the evidence as seen from one point of view ; we will venture to look at it from another.
As long as the book of Isaiah was studied in a translation, it matters not whether Greek, Latin, German, or English, it was impossible that the reader should notice the very remark- able fact, that after the thirty-ninth chapter the language and style are completely changed. There may be nothing very ex- traordinary in the sudden transition from Hebrew to Chaldee in the books of Ezra and Daniel. The change of language in the book of Isaiah is of a totally different character. It is hardly perceptible to the superficial reader ; and yet it tells a tale not less historically certain than that which enables us to account for the appearance of two different Semitic dialects in the same book. Although written in classical Hebrew, the second part of the book of Isaiah is full of linguistic peculiarities not found in
646 Dr. SmitJi's Dictionary of the Bible.
the first part, and of others betraying an age of the language later than that of Isaiah.
"To [these] peculiarities/' says Knobel, "belong ntt|", to sprout, i.e. to arise; Snp^ to j^reac/i; nan n29, to break out into exultation; Q^tt?, n^tt^n, nb^, nbb:?nS":T; V:B'0i:^, the religion of Jehovah; p"!"^,, prosperity, salvation; Tl\yi'2jt/ie same; Ci^n, the inhabitants of the earth; T^?, ^-r^?* ^^ nothing ; "nbsi'bs, all flesh ; *^5^t "^^'^ wasting and destruction; the use of the ad- jective and participle as a substantive neuter^ mostly in the plural feminine, ex. gr. ni^Db^f:, ancient things ; rii^trS";, former things ; rilS'^, great things ; ri1"i^5, secret things ; n'ltLnn, new things; nvins^ things to come; rilW2, the same. These expressions appear, for the most part, in our author, and characterise him as a very peculiar writer. Most important are the linguistic elements, betraying a later time. The writer uses a number of expressions which are found either in his composi- tion only, or in the later books ; and Avhich must be explained chiefly by the Aramaean, ex. gr. bw|, to be unclean; tt't?2, to grope ; nSD, to span ; 7133, to name ; Wn^, to strike ; nHD, to spread out ; "T^O^ ^^ pray to ; pj?3, to kindle ; QK73, to breathe ; n:^3, to cry) n]^, the same ; n3j:j, to bow, stretch ; l?'n, repent- ance; "1^"!?,' idol; n7|i:g, veil; ti??"!, dirt; nnit!?, apostate; "I'^Ppn, without ; U^y^, to be averse ; the formulas, luhat dost thou ; peo- ples and tongues : C^??P, princes, is a Persian word. In like manner, our author employs a number of words in significations and relations borrowed in part from Aramaean, appearing only in later authors, so far as they are not peculiar to him, and all betraying a great advance in the language, thus showing a later period; as, "^^wn, to kindle" [and many others]. "The same holds good of word-forms, ex. gr. the Aramaeisms, "'ribsi;is and "^^nn . None but the author has a Pihel of "^SS, a Hiphil de- nominative of n5, a Hithpael of n^^, r\r\B, and T^vy^, as well as the nominal forms nhbDi;? in the plural, T\b\V for nbn:, nn^.37^^, nnn^.73, TMT^y^j and nt^S^n. Other words he has in common with the later writers, ex. gr. the Pahal of ^"^17 and the Pilel of mb, as also \nis for ^ns, TTP2 for r[y^r^, ^"Iji^, and the plurals nii^nn, n\nitt, Q^pbiy. Many words are to be explained by the Arabic, which may have had an influence on the Hebrew of the exiles in the intercourse of the Arabians with the Babylo- nians; for example, l^^b?, unfruitful [and ten others].''
To these peculiarities of language we must add very remark- able peculiarities of style, for which we refer to the work from which the foregoing extract is taken, or to any good work of the same kind.
If we now compare the prophecies contained in the second
Dr, SmitKs Dictionary of the Bible, 647
part with those contained in tlie first, the difference of historical standpoint will be found to be very great. The writer of the first part in one place predicts the exile ; but his prophecies are clearly written in the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, Hezekiah, and Manasseh. The writer of the second part does not predict the exile; he every where speaks as if he were living in it. Those to whom he speaks, to whom he declares himself to be sent, are in exile and oppressed. The destruction of the temple and of Jerusalem itself are spoken of not as future, but as past, events. It is predicted not that the cities of Judah shall be destroyed, but that they shall be rebuilt. There is not a single phrase in these twenty-seven chapters indicating that the writer lived before the time of Cyrus, whose name is repeatedly men- tioned in them. And it has been truly remarked that were this portion of the book of Isaiah separate from the other, and with- out a name, no one would think of ascribing to it another date than that suggested by the name of Cyrus and the rebuilding of the temple,^ more than a hundred and fifty years after the time of Isaiah.
The philological evidence, therefore, for the later date of the second part is in perfect harmony with the evidence derived from the contents of this part. The language betrays a writer of an age subsequent to that of Isaiah, and influences which are accounted for by the very historical data furnished by the mat- ter of the prophecies.
There is no ancient external evidence whatever for the unity of the book of Isaiah. There are only dogmatic reasons of a very insufiicient kind. The '^inspired testimony of the New Testament," to which Mr. Huxtable appeals, does not delibe- rately pronounce upon the question. In St. Luke's gospel^ we are told that there was delivered to our Lord the "book of the prophet Esaias.'' And it was from this book that our Lord read the words, '*The Spirit of the Lord is upon me," &c. But no one questions the fact, that in our Lord's days the " book of the prophet Esaias" contained the passage quoted in St. Luke's gospel. Other passages of the New Testament, in which " Esaias" is quoted as the source of predictions found in the second part of the book ascribed to him, are to be explained in the same way as the passage in St. Matthew ascribing to Jeremiah a prophecy which is most probably not by him, or as the passage of St. Jude which quotes the book of Enoch as a genuine prophecy.
^ It is to be observed that Zechariah (viii. 7) apparently quotes Isaiah xliii. 5, as spoken by the mouth of one of the prophets who were " in the day that the foundation of the house of the Lord of Hosts was laid, that the temple might be built."
5 iv. 17.
648 Dr, SmitKs Dictionary of the Bible,
It is almost incredible that Mr. Huxtable sbould appeal to " the unity of design and construction which," as he endeavours to show, "connects these last twenty-seven chapters with the preceding parts of the book,^^ and to "the oneness of diction which pervades the book." This latter kind of internal evidence is surely only visible in a translation. . " The peculiar elevation and grandeur of style" is certainly not less remarkable in the second than in the first part ; but it is in itself no evidence at all. " The absence of any other name than Isaiah's claiming the authorship" is a very poor reason for assigning it to Isaiah. What would Mr. Huxtable say of such a reason given for the genuineness of the Clementines, or of the writings attributed to St. Dionysius the Areopagite ?
Another argument is drawn from "the claims which the writer makes to the/o?^ekiiowledge of the deliverance by Gyrus ; which claims, on the opposing view, must be regarded as a fraudulent personation of an earlier writer." A certain number of references are given in another part of Mr. Huxtable 's article as bearing on these supposed claims ; and a note assures us that "it is difficult to acquit the passages above cited of impudent, and indeed suicidal, mendacity, if they were not written before Cyrus appeared on the political scene." We have read with great attention all the passages referred to ; and if the book were not a very short one, we might be afraid that we had been misled by clerical errors ; but neither in these passages, nor in any others in the second part of Isaiah, can we discern a trace of the claims supposed to be made by the prophet to a/oreknow- ledge of the deliverance by Cyrus, except such foreknowledge as belongs to a contemporary. In most of the passages referred to by Mr. Huxtable the foreknowledge of God is spoken of ; in no case that of Isaiah, or of a prophet living a century and a half before the appearance of Cyrus, or even twenty years before that time.
It is hardly necessary to say that on other difficulties and interesting questions connected with the book of Isaiah — such, for instance, as that of the " Servant of the Lord" — not a single ray of light is shed by Mr. Huxtable's article.
On the prophet Jeremiah, Professor Plumptre's article con- tains a great deal that every student can find for himself in his own Bible ; but the important subject of the text of the book is dismissed with half a page. The discrepancies between the Hebrew text and that of the Septuagint are extremely remark- able and instructive. Professor Plumptre merely gives a short table indicating the extent of the divergency ; and " for fuller details, tending to a conclusion unfavourable to the trustworthi- ness of the Greek translation," he refers to Keil s EMeitung,
J
Z)r. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible, 649
" and the authors there referred to.^^ We are next presented with a table of references to *' supposed interpolations," con- cluding with a list of the chief impugners and defenders of the authenticity of the passages in question. This is certainly a very summary way of disposing of difficulties.
The difficulties of the book of Daniel begin with the very first verse of the first chapter, which states that in the third year of Jehoiakim king of Judah, jS^ebuchadnezzar king of Babylon came and besieged Jerusalem ; whereas Jeremiah iden- tifies the first year of Nebuchadnezzar with the fourth of Je- hoiakim, in which year he himself predicted the coming of the Babylonish king and the captivity of Judah. The true expla- nation of this difficulty, according to Mr. Westcott, is suggested by the text of Daniel. " The second year of Nebuchadnezzar's reign (ii. 1) falls after the completion of the three years' train- ing of Daniel, which commenced with his captivity (i. 1, 5) ; and this is a clear indication that the expedition mentioned in i. 1 was undertaken in the last year of the reign of Nabupa- lassar, while as yet Nebuchadnezzar was not properly king." This explanation of one difficulty by the discovery of a second, which leads to giving up the historical accuracy of the passage explained, and that in a way which evidently contradicts the intention of one's author, is far from satisfactory. "But some further difficulties remain," continues Mr. Westcott, " which appear, however, to have been satisfactorily removed by Nie- buhr (Gesch. Assiirs, 86 &.)." One of these satisfactory explanations seems to be that when Jeremiah ^^ predicted the coming of Nebuchadnezzar, Nebuchadnezzar had already come.
We certainly did not expect to find in Mr. Westcott^s articles a solution of the difficulties of the book of Daniel ; and we have therefore not been disappointed. The doubts as to the genuineness of the book are disposed of in not quite a column of general views as to the providential government of the world, together with about the same amount of reply to objections in detail. The whole tone of this criticism is so conservative as logically to be available for the defence of other books with which that of Daniel has much in common. But as these books are not in the Hebrew canon, we must expect quite a different treatment for them.
The great fabulist La Fontaine one day accidentally made acquaintance with the book of Baruch, and was so struck with its beauty that he went about asking all his friends, "Connaissez- vous Baruch ?" and recommending them to read it. We fear that Baruch is little known to the readers of Dr. Smith's Dic-
'° Chap. XXV.
650 Dr. Smithes Dictionary of the Bible,
tionary, and that they will pass over, without any misgivings, an important misstatement of Mr. Westcott's as to the imita- tion of Daniel by the author of the book. There are certainly very close and unmistakeable coincidences between the books of Daniel and Baruch ; but in our opinion, which is that also of great critics^ ^ who are not remarkable for prejudices in favour of the deutero-canonical books, it is the author of Daniel who has imitated the book of Earuch. If this be the true state of the case, Mr. Westcott has the alternative of giving the book of Baruch a date anterior to that of the prophet Daniel, or of bringing down the date of the book of Daniel to a time pos- terior to that to which he assigns the book of Baruch.
Other deutero-canonical books (Ecclesiasticus, Wisdom of Solomon, Maccabees, and Tobit) are not treated by Mr. West- cott as they would have been were they recognised by his Church as canonical; but he certainly deserves the praise of having displayed in regard to them an amount of fairness and good sense which has been lamentably rare among English Pro- testant writers. A better and more rational feeling than had hitherto prevailed towards the "Apocryphal" books was first inaugurated by Dr. Davidson, whose chapter on this subject in the last edition of Home's Introduction offers a very striking contrast to the corresponding chapter in the earlier editions.
A fair amount of Greek scholarship being nearly as com- mon among the more highly educated Anglican clergy as a knowledge of Hebrew is rare, it might have been expected that the excellence of articles on the books of the New Testament would compensate for the poverty of those on the Old. But this is far from being the case ; the jSIew Testament articles are in general inferior to the Old Testament ones, the difficulties of the latter having apparently enforced a greater amount of care- ful study both of the original documents and of tlie erudite German works to which the writers of the Dictionary are so much indebted.
The article " Gospels,'^ by the Archbishop of York, might, if we except a few allusions and bibliographical references to modern books, have been written more than thirty years ago. He tells us that " Barnabas, Clemens Romanus, and Polycarp, quote passages from [the gospels], but not with verbal exact- ness. The testimony of Justin Martyr (born about a.d. 99,
" "Las der Verfasser des B. Daniel gewiss schon dies Buch und zwar he- braisch, auch wohl in derselben Verbindung mit dem B. Jercmja: denn die Worter des Gebetes Dan, ix. 4 19 geben sich ihrem Hauptinhalte iiach nur als cine neue Ausarbeitung nach Bar. i. 15 — ii. 17, auch meist als Verkiirzung dar- aus ; und wahrend dies Gebet im B. Daniel mehr nur eine Nebensache ist um auf etwas -wichtigeres hiniiberzuleiten, ist es im B. Barukh ebon die Hauptsache fursich.'* Ewald, Gesch, d, V. Israel, B. iv. p. 232.
Dr, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible. 651
martyred a.d. 165) Is mucli fuller ; many of his quotations are found verbatim in the gospels of St. Matthew, St. Luke, and St. John, and possibly of St. Mark also, whose words it is more difficult to separate.^' After all that has been written on the testimony of Justin, and, indeed, of the ancients generally, one could hardly have been prepared for such smooth sailing. The assertion, too, that from the first " a sharp line of distinction was drawn between [the four gospels] and the so-called apo- cryphal gospels, of which the number was \qtj great," may be true ; but when Dr. Thompson appeals to historical evidence in support of it, he should tell us in what this evidence consists. He ought to remember that it is generally admitted that Ig- natius, Justin, and the author of the second epistle attributed to Clement of Eome, unhesitatingly quote apocryphal gospels, and that no testimony equally clear, and of equal antiquity, has yet been produced for the gospel of St. John.
A short account of the difi'erent explanations first given of the close resemblances to be found in the synoptical gospels, and of the theory of an original gospel, is closed by a protest against this theory as inconsistent with inspiration and with " the wholesome confidence with which we now rely on the gospels as pure, true, and genuine histories of the life of Jesus, composed by four independent witnesses inspired for that work." Gieseler's hypothesis, that the oral teaching of the apostles was the real source of the agreement between the three gospels, meets with more favour; and Dr. Thompson proceeds to enquire how it bears upon our belief in the inspira- tion of the gospels — a momentous question, which admits, he believes, of a satisfactory reply. Divine guidance and the Spirit of Truth were promised to the apostles by our Lord ; and that this promise was fully realised to them, the history of the Acts sufficiently shows. " So that as to St. Matthew and St. John, we may say that their gospels are inspired because the writers of them were inspired according to their Master's promise," supernatural guidance being as necessary in writing a gospel as when standing before a human tribunal. *' The case of the other two Evangelists is somewJiat different. It has al- ways been held that they were under the guidance of apostles in what they wrote,— St. Mark under that of St. Peter, and St. Luke under that of St. Paul.'' "As St. Mark and St. Luke were the companions of apostles, — shared their dangers, con- fronted hostile tribunals, had to teach and preach, — there is reason to think that they equally enjoyed what they equally needed." The portion of the three first gospels which is com- mon to all, being derived from the teaching of the apostles in general, is drawn directly from an inspired source, and each
692 Dr, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible,
gospel has its own features, the divine element having con- trolled the human but not destroyed it.
" There is a perverted form," contiQues Dr. Thompson, " of the theory we are considering, which pretends that the facts of the Redeemer's life remained in the state of an oral tradition till the latter part of the second century, and that the four gospels were not written till that time.'' The difference is not of degree," he says, "between the opinion that the gospels were written during the lifetime of the apostles, who were eye-witnesses, and the notion that for nearly a century after the oldest of them had passed to his rest, the events were only preserved in the changeable and insecure form of an oral account. But for the latter opinion there is not one sparh of historical evidence.'^ There is certainly none. But if, instead of taking the most exaggerated form in which the hypothesis he supports has been "perverted," we substitute for "the latter part of the second century" " a hundred years after the death of Christ," will Dr. Thompson tell us that the " sparks" of evi- dence are much more numerous and bright on his side of the question than on the other ? If so, where are they ?
We shall look in vain for them in the articles on the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. St. Matthew's gospel is said to be quoted by Justin Martyr and Hegesippus. We know from Eusebius that Hegesippus used the " gospel according to the Hebrews ;" but this was not St. Matthew. Dr. Thompson al- lows that " the citations of Justin Martyr, very important for this subject, have been thought to indicate a source different from the gospels which we now possess ;" but he has no space to show that the dTrofjLVTjfMovev/jiaTa of Justin were the gospels ; and that though "Justin quotes the gospels very loosely, so that his words often bear but a slight resemblance to the original, the same is true of his quotations from the Septuagint." We are referred for the disposal of this question to Norton's Genu- ineness, vol. i., and Hug's Einleitung. It is scarcely necessary to say that both these books, the latter of which was most admir- able at the time when it was written, are quite inadequate to the wants of the present day.
"Owing to the very few sections peculiar to Mark," it is said in the article on that gospel, "evidence from patristic quotation is somewhat difficult to produce. Justin Martyr, however, quotes ch. ix. 44, 46, 48, xii. 30, and iii. 17 ; and Irenffius cites both the opening and closing words (iii. 10, 6)." Here again we have to bear in mind that all the supposed quo- tations from the gospels in Justin are, to say the least, very doubtful.
Of St. Luke's gospel Dr. Thompson says that " it is quoted
Dr. Smithes Dictionary of the Bible. 653
by Justin Martyr, and by tbe author of tbe Clementine Homilies. The silence of the apostolic fathers only indicates that it was admitted into the canon somewhat late, which was probably the case. The result of the Marcion controversy is, as we have seen, that our gospel was in use before a.d. 120." The mention of the canon leads us to enquire by whom Dr. Thompson thinks that of the New Testament was drawn up. He objects^^ to Eichhorn's notion that the " Church'^ sanctioned the four canonical books, and by its authority gave them ex- clusive currency, because " there existed at that time no means for convening a council ;" and yet he implies that the canon of the l^ew Testament, even as regarding the gospels, was not drawn up till after the date of the writings attributed to the apostolical fathers.
If it be important to prove by convincing evidence that the gospels were written by contemporaries and eye-witnesses of the events which they record, and if this can be done in a way which ought to be satisfactory to all fair judges of literary history, Dr. Thompson cannot lay any claim to the credit of such a success. And his account of the questions raised with reference to the contents and purpose of each of the synoptical gospels is as unsatisfactory as his proofs of their apostolical antiquity.
The gospel of St. John deserved an article at least of the same importance as " Isaiah." That by Mr. Bullock is very short and insignificant. It simply ignores all the great ques- tions to which the gospel has given rise. The same thing is true of Dean Alford's article, " Acts of the Apostles."
The articles on the epistles of St. Paul are often dull, and always unimportant. The speculations of the Tubingen school, "vyhich have furnished so many suggestions even to its theolo- gical and literary opponents in Germany, are only referred to occasionally for the purpose of refutation. De Wette, Neander, Hase, Reuss, Bleek, and even Thiersch and the Catholic Lutter- beck, have better understood how to profit by the critical en- quiries which are treated with such contempt by some of the writers of the Dictionary.
The writer of the article "Epistle to the Hebrews," who says that the tendency of opinion in Germany is to ascribe the epistle to some other author than St. Paul, does not seem to be aware that, besides the difierence of style and mode of reasoning between it and the acknowledged writings of St. Paul, a difier- ence of doctrinal system is strongly asserted to exist. It is only Luther whom Mr. Bullock mentions as " unable to perceive its agreement with St. Paul's doctrine." Another objection — which,
1' Vol. ii. p. 277.
654? Dr, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible.
as we should put it, is that it quotes a different text^^ of the Septuagint from that generally quoted by St. Paul — is thus alluded to: *' If St. Paul quotes to the Hebrews the LXX. without correcting it where it differs from the Hebrew, this agrees with his practice in other epistles, and with the fact that, as elsewhere, so in Jerusalem, Hebrew was a dead lan- guage, acquired only by much pains by the learned/'
Mr. F. C. Cook, in the article '* Peter,'' calls attention to the fact that the apostle " seems to have conversed fluently in Greek with Cornelius, — at least there is no intimation that an interpreter was employed, — while it is highly improbable that Cornelius, a Eoman soldier, should have used the language of Palestine." He says also that " the style of both of St. Peter's epistles indicates a considerable knowledge of Greek ; it is pure and accurate, and in grammatical structure equal to that of St. Paul." This, however, he thinks, may possibly be due to the employment of an interpreter ; a hypothesis which would explain the difference of style between the two epistles, for that the two " coidd not have been composed and written by the same person is a point scarcely open to doubt." But when he says that *' there are no traces of Greek literature upon [St. Peter's] mind, such as we find in St. Paul, nor could we expect it in a person of his station, even had Greek been his mother tongue," he is not aware that the second epistle attributed to St. Peter is more full, perhaps, than all those of St. Paul put together of passages closely akia in thought to aphorisms of Greek, and particularly Philonic, philosophy.^*
Of Mr. Meyrick's contributions to the Dictionary, and among them some articles upon the epistles of St. James and St. John, we shall have occasion to speak later on. Mr. Bullock's article, " Revelation of St. John," does not rise above the moderate level we are accustomed to in English books on the subject.
" Introduction" is decidedly one of the weak departments of the Dictionarj^ although the articles belonging to it are put forward in the editor's preface as " naturally some of the most important in the work." A deplorable mediocrity in all that regards learning and thought characterises most of them. This is particularly true of the articles on the books of the New Tes- tament. But with the exception, perhaps, of what Mr. West- cott writes on parts of the ''Apocrypha," the articles both on Old and New Testament books are all utterly unworthy to be compared with the corresponding ones in the ordinary German works on " Introduction." From some of our remarks it may perhaps be thought that we chiefly object to the apologetic and
'» A reading of Deut xxxii. 35 differing from the Hebrew and common Septuagint texts is, however, quoted both in Rom. xii.JO and Heb. x. 30. '* See Schwegler, Das nachapostoUschc Zeilalter, i. 515.
Dr. Smithes Dictionary of the Bible, Q55
conservative spirit which prevails throughout these articles. We certainly do think that in a work of the kind objectivity is what should chiefly be aimed at. But we do not find fault with any amount of conservatism which is consistent with objective truth. It is not with the conclusions considered in themselves that we quarrel, but with the facts and arguments by which they are supported. The interests of the most conservative theology are here in fact identical with those of critical science. It is not for the benefit of religion that all the positions taken up by its defenders should be evidently such as may be under- mined, turned, or carried by assault.
The apologetic interest, to which a part at least of the de- fects of the articles about which we have been speaking is due, is necessarily less prominent in the purely biographical and historical articles. Many of these are admirably written. It is not often that contributions to a Dictionary possess the pic- turesque beauty of such articles as " Moses," " Samuel,'' " Saul,'' ** David," " Jonathan," *' Jeroboam," and some others by Dr. Stanley. There is an exquisite charm about them, which ought not, however, to blind one to their defects. Dr. Stanley is too apt to fill up the gaps of the Hebrew narrative with doubtful details from the Septuagint or Josephus ; perhaps from tradi- tions even still more questionable. But we only do him justice in saying that the strict accuracy with which he invariably gives his authorities enables the reader to exercise a watchful criticism over what he reads. Mr. Bullock's articles on the ** Kingdoms of Israel and Judah" are very superior to those he has written on books of Scripture. " Elijah" and " Elisha," like most of Mr. Grove's articles, are excellent. The history of the Maccabees, of several of the Seleucidae, and of the Herodian family, are well given by Mr. "Westcott. The biographies of the New Testament are of much less value as Dictionary articles than those of the Old. They are all more or less coloured by the controversies of the day ; and the writers are too apt to imagine themselves working for the pulpit or for a theological journal.
We must not, however, forget that one unfortunate bio- graphical article belongs to the Old Testament. It is under *'Noah" that the difficulties of the Flood are considered. The writer, Mr. Perowne, takes the greatest pains to gather together all the difficulties that are involved in the admission of a uni- versal deluge. And he then proceeds to argue that the biblical narrative does not compel us to adopt so tremendous an hypo- thesis. The language is confessedly strong, but he thinks it may be got over. It is got over, in fact, by such expedients as the following : "It is true that Noah is told to take two *of
656 Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible.
every living thing of all flesh/ but that could only mean two of every animal then known to him, unless we suppose him to have had supernatural information in zoology imparted — a thing quite incredible." *'It is natural to suppose that the writer, when he speaks of ' all flesh,' ' all in whose nostrils was the breath of life,' refers only to his own locality." What ! after having read, " And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth, both man and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air ; for it
repenteth me that I have made them And God said
unto Noah, The end of all flesh is come before me; for the earth is filled with violence through them ; and behold I wiU destroy them with the earth." Was it only in Noah's locality that the earth was filled with the violence of man and beast and creeping thing and fowl of the air? Again, after the Flood, God says, " I will not again curse the ground any more for man's sake . . . neither will I again smite any more every thing living as I have done." And again, " I will establish my covenant with you ; neither shall all flesh be cut off any more by the waters of a flood ; neither shall there any more he a flood to destroy the earth.'' Partial inundations of the most terrific and destructive kind have certainly taken place in his- toric times. How do the words we have printed in italics har- monise with Mr. Perowne's hypothesis that the Noachic deluge was a partial inundation, " similar to what occurred in the Eunn of Cutch, on the eastern arm of the Indus, in 1819, when the sea flowed in, and in a few hours converted a tract of land 2000 square miles in area into an inland sea or lagoon" ?
The chief difficulty which he perceives is the connection of the statement that " all the high hills that were under the whole heaven were covered," with the district in which Noah is sup- posed to have lived, and the assertion that the waters prevailed fifteen cubits upward. It would have been impossible for the mountain now called Ararat to have been covered unless the whole earth were submerged. But he suggests that instead of Ararat, " a lower mountain range, such as the Zagros range, for instance, may be intended." We may be mistaken in our calculations ; but it seems to us impossible to imagine any other than a universal deluge as covering either the Zagros or any other range of mountains, and reaching fifteen cubits above it.
The violence done to the sacred text by such interpretations is contrary to all the principles of sound exegesis. The Noachic deluge is unmistakeably represented as universal and destruc- tive of all life except what was preserved in the ark. If, as Mr. Perowne believes, the scientific evidence against the hypo- thesis of a universal deluge is conclusive, the biblical narrative
Dr, Smith's Dictioriary of the Bible, 657
is, in some important particulars at least, not historically true.
Tlie important question, liow far inspiration implies infalli- bility in historical statements, is, of course, nowhere discussed in the Dictionary. Most of the writers appear to take it for granted that inspiration excludes the possibility of historical inaccuracy. The opposite view, however, is indirectly incul- cated in Dr. Stanley's article " Stephen." It is there observed that no less than twelve of St. Stephen's references to the Mo- saic history differ from it either by variation or addition. Some of these variations are very remarkable ; for instance —
" 1. The call of Abraham before the migration to Haran ([Acts] vii. 2), not as according to Gen. xii. 1, in Haran.
2. The death of his father after the call (vii. 4), not as according to Gen. xi. 32, before it.
3. The seventy-five souls of Jacob's migration (vii. 14), not as according to Gen. xlvi. 27, seventy.
12. The purchase of the tomb at Shechem by Abraham from the sons of Emmor (vii. 16), not as according to Gen. xxiii. 15, the purchase of the cave at Machpelah from Ephron the Hittite."
"It may almost be said," adds Dr. Stanley, "that the whole speech is a protest against a rigid view of the mechanical exactness of the inspired records of the Old Testament : ' He had regard,' as St. Jerome says, ' to the meaning, not to the words.' "
A great Catholic theologian, Melchior Canus,^^ finds no dif- ficulty in allowing that St. Stephen's memory failed him. The evangelist correctly reported his speech, and " nos non Stepha- num ab omni lapsu sed Evangelistam vindicare debemus." But the dogmatic obligation is quite as great in one case as in the other. St. Stephen is described as "full of the Holy Ghost;" and as speaking under those circumstances, wdth reference to which it was said, " It shall be given to you in that same hour what you shall speak. For it is not you that speak, but the Spirit of your Father which speaketh in you." The inspiration of St. Stephen is as solemnly guaranteed to us as that of a writer of one of the books of Scripture ; and if an admitted " lapsus in parvis" is not inconsistent with the inspiration of the one, neither need it be so with that of the other.
Theology is distinctly excluded from the " scope and object" of the Dictionary, which the editor says is not intended " to explain systems of theology, or discuss points of controversial divinity.'^ In spite of this announcement a good many topics of controversy are discussed, the writers apparently finding it hard to resist the temptation of proving that their own High, Low, or Broad, Church opinions were shared by the writers of the Bible.
'"' De Locis, ii. 18.
658 Dr. Smith's Dictionarij of the Bible.
The controversial spirit is most conspicuously and offensively displayed by Mr. Meyrick, who intrudes his sectarian views every where. This j2:rievous blemish is by no means compen- sated by the merit of his articles. That on the first epistle of St. John, one of the most magnificent subjects that could fall to the lot of a writer, does not rise above the level of a school- book. In that on the epistle of St. James we are told that the Jewish vices against which Christians are warned are, " For- malism, which made the service {dprja/cela) of God consist in washings and outward ceremonies, whereas he reminds them (i. 27) that it consists rather in Active Love and Purity (see Coleridge's Aids to Reflection , Aph. 23 ; note also Active Love=Bp. Butler's * Benevolence^ and Purity =Bp. Butler's * Temperance') ; Fanaticism," &c. St. James's doctrine of jus- tification and the unction of the sick demand a somewhat more lengthened notice. The discrepancy between St. James and St. Paul is explained by "faith^^ meaning '* fides informis" in the former, and " fides forraata" in the latter ; and some old Anglican books are referred to for further information. Mr. Meyrick does not seem to know that very important things have been written on the subject since the time of Bull and Taylor, or even of Lawrence's Bampton Lectures. He is not accurate in speaking of James v. 14, 15, as being quoted as the authority (in his sense of the term) for the sacrament of ex- treme unction. The unction of the sick was not adopted on the authority of any text of Scripture. It has been practised, like infant baptism, from time immemorial, not only in the Catholic church in communion with Rome, but in all the East- ern churches, *' orthodox" and heretical. The earliest mention of it in ecclesiastical antiquity is not as of a novelty, but merely as of an existing practice. St. James is only quoted in proof of the antiquity of the practice, and of its being approved by him. The " extraordinary gifts of the Spirit," in which Mr. Meyrick, like the common herd of Protestant controversialists, sees a cha- racteristic distinction between the apostolic and the present practice, might with as full right be quoted against the prac- tices of baptism and the imposition of hands.
His article " Mary the Virgin" is in great part a furious and ignorant onslaught on ''Mariolatry ;" though by what right this should be introduced into Dr. Smith's Dictionary we cannot see. The history of the " cultus of the Blessed Virgin" does not come within the scope of the work any more than those of the cultus of our Lord and the Holy Ghost, about which Mr. Meyrick might find it difficult to write so fluently if he were somewhat better informed than he appears to be. He believes no doubt that Christ was invoked as Almighty
Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible. 659
God from tlie first ; but if so, what has he to reply to those who would use his own words against him?^*^ "There is nothing of the sort in the supposed works of Hermas and Barnabas, nor in the real works of Clement, Ignatius, and Polycarp — that is, the doctrine is not to be found in the first century. There is nothing of the sort in Justin Martyr, Tatian, Athenagoras, Theophilus, Clement of Alexandria, TertuUian — that is, in the second century. There is nothing of the sort in Origen, Gregory Thaumaturgus, Cyprian, Methodius, Lac- tantius — that is, in the third century." And when he goes beyond the third century, his argument (for his historical sketch is in fact a mere controversial argument) breaks down before considerations of another kind. Were it ever so true that the writers of the fourth, fifth, or ever so many succeeding centuries were silent as to the cultus of the Blessed Virgin, can it be denied that these very writers are most enthusiastic pa- trons of the cultus of the saints, amongst whom Mr. Meyrick himself places the Blessed Virgin ?
Dr. Kewman's use of the word " deification" with reference to the saints is spoken of as characteristic of modern Romanism ; it is, on the contrary, infinitely more common in the writings of the fourth and fifth centuries ;^^ and the notion is ante-Nicene that " God became man that man might become God.'^^^
We are not writing a defence of Catholic doctrines, but pro- testing against Mr. Meyrick^s use of Dr. Smith's Dictionary for the propagation of his absurd no-Popery arguments. Of his section on the Immaculate Conception we shall only say that there is not a line in it which betrays the slightest acquaintance with the theological grounds on which the doctrine is, rightly or wrongly, supposed to rest.
But the calibre of Mr. Meyrick' s theological science may be judged from the following specimen, taken from his article "Antichrist:''
" That the harlot-woman must be an unfaithful Church is argued convincingly by Wordsworth (On the Apocalypse^ p. 376), and no less decisively by Isaac Williams (The Apocalypse, p. 335). A close consi- deration of the language and import of St. John's prophecy appears, as Mr. Williams says, to leave no room for doubt on this point. If this be so, the conclusion seems almost necessarily to follow that the unfaithful Church spoken of is, as Dr. Wordsworth argues, the Church of Rome.
'6 Vol. ii. p. 267.
^7 It is often found even in ante-Nicene writers. For numerous examples see a note of Potter in Clem. Alex. t. i. p. 88. One of the passages quoted is 0€OTal, ^yyeXoi Koi deoi, " ubi Deos appellat beatorum animas." Potter's own explanation of this language is one-sided.
•^ See Iren. adv. Hceres. prsef. ad lib. v. ; Tertull. Apol. c. 21 ; Cyprian, de Vanit. Idol. c. 6. Innumerable passages to the same effect might be referred to in later authors.
VOL. IV. X X
660 Dr, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible.
And this appears to be the case. The Babylon of the Apocalypse is probably the Church of Rome, which gradually raised and seated her- self on the back of the corrupted Church, — the Harlot rider on the Beast."
Should trash, of this sort be tolerated in a Dictionary which comes before the public with such pretensions as that of Dr. Smith?
The most abstruse article in the Dictionary is that on '* Mira- cles/' by Dr. Fitzgerald, Protestant Bishop of Killaloe. It is a laborious and indeed painful attempt to maintain an indefen- sible position — a belief in the miracles of the Bible, combined with a disbelief of all others. Such a belief, however, is by no means difficult to one who declares that '' in the case of the Christian [z. e. Scripture] miracles, the truth of the facts, vary- ing as they do from our ordinary experience, is far more cre- dible than the falsehood of a testimony so circumstanced as that by which they are attested." If this were clearly the case of the Scripture miracles, it would hardly be necessary to write so long and elaborate an article as that of Dr. Fitzgerald. But we have seen how difficult it was for Dr. Thompson to find wit- nesses for the historians of the New Testament miracles. The peculiarity, however, according to Dr. Fitzgerald, of these mira- cles, as to their external evidence, is that they are attested by " inspired historians ;" and he eiddentty attaches to the word " inspired" a sense which would make it impossible for any one who allows it to question the conclusions which it implies. But he has omitted to tell m& in what the evidence for the superna- tural character of the testimony consists. In spite of the refer- ences to Hume and other writers on the subject of miracles, the whole article seems to give an idea of the motives which would naturally lead Dr. Fitzgerald himself to doubt the occurrence of miracles, and of the considerations on the other side of the ques- tion which would weigh strongly on his own mind, rather than of considerations which actually impel the present generation of thinkers one way or another. We are far from denying the force of his reasonings, taken separately ; much of what he says in favour of the Scripture miracles is extremely cogent, and so is much of what he saj^s in denial of ecclesiastical miracles. But the legitimate result of these reasonings is, contrary to the writer's intention, either conservative as to ecclesiastical mira- cles, or destructive as to those recorded in Scripture. The at- tempt to draw a logical distinction between the two series is utterly futile ; and its futility is becoming more and more appa- rent every day. Dr. Smith's Dictionary will, no doubt, help Englishmen to see how unfairly the evidence is dealt with, ac- cording as it refers to Scripture miracles or to those of ecclesias-
Dr, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible, 06 1
tical history. The silence of Eusebius, for instance, on the In- vention of the Cross is held to outweigh the positive evidence of even a host of ecclesiastical authors, and indeed the unanimous belief of contemporary Christendom ; whilst the " perplexing phenomenon," as Professor Plumptre calls it, that the first three gospels omit all mention of so wonderful a fact as the resur- rection of Lazarus, excites no wonder in ordinary readers of the Bible.
The geographical articles are, as a rule, excellent. It is, however, to be regretted that the paradoxes of so able a writer as Mr. Fergusson about the site of the Holy Sepulchre should be given to the reader as the latest results of topographical science. It has always been considered that the site now pointed out as that of the Holy Sepulchre is the same as that recognised as such in the time of Constantino ; and the only question has been held to be, whether Constantino and his con- temporaries were not mistaken. The chief, or rather the only serious, reason for distrusting their evidence lay in the position of the supposed Grolgotha. On looking at its place on the map of Jerusalem, it was difficult to believe that such a site could ever have been a place of tombs, and lain without the walls of the city. But this topographical difficulty has certainly been cleared up. " In the topographical question," says Dr. Stanley, liimself a sceptic on the subject, " the opponents of the iden- tity of the Sepulchre have never done justice to the argument first cleari}^ stated in England by Lord IN'ugent, and pointedly brought out by Professor Willis, which is derived from the so-called tombs of Joseph and JN^icodemus. Underneath the western galleries of the church, behind the Holy Sepulchre, are two excavations in the face of the rock, forming an ancient Jewish sepulchre as clearly as any that can be seen in the Val- ley of Hinnom or in the Tombs of the Kings The tradi- tional names of Joseph and Nicodemus are probably valueless ; but the existence of these sepulchres proves almost to a certainty that at some period the site of the present church must have been outside the walls of the city, and lends considerable proba- bility to the belief that the rocky excavation — which perhaps exists in part still, and certainly once existed entire — within the marble casing of the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre was at any rate a really ancient tomb, and not, as is often rashly asserted, a modern structure intended to imitate it.'^ Now of this solution of the topographical difficulty Mr. Fergusson says nothing. He merely repeats that "the site of the present church is obviously at variance with the facts of the Bible nar- rative." But he argues, on the other hand, with great force, in favour of the probability that Constantino and those who acted
662 Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible,
with him possessed sufficient information to enable them ta ascertain exactly the precise localities of the crucifixion and burial of our Lord. The mistake, he thinks, was not made by Constantino and his contemporaries, but by the Christians of a later age, after the Holy Sepulchre had fallen into the hands of the Saracens. The ingenious arguments by which he \mder- takes to prove that the site of Constantine's Basilica is to be identified with that of the Mosque of Omar have now for a long time been before the learned world, and have not produced con- viction. Most persons will agree with Dr. Stanley in consider- ing the historical objections to this hypothesis insurmountable.
Mr. Layard, Professor Rawlinson, Professor Oppert, and Mr. R. S. Poole of the British Museum, have contributed ar- ticles which represent the amount of illustration that biblical science may derive from recent discoveries in Babylonian and Egyptian archaeology. The article " Nineveh" is by Mr. Layard. To Professor Oppert we are indebted for one containing the translation of the Borsippa inscription, in which he sees an allusion to the confusion of tongues. The new witness to the biblical narrative is no other than King IS'abuchodonosor. ''A former king,'' he says, ** built [the Tower of Borsippa] (they reckon forty-two ages), but he did not complete its head. Since a remote time people had abando7ied it, without order expressing their words. Since that time the earthquake and the thunder had dispersed its sun-dried clay ; the bricks of the casing had been split, and the earth of the interior had been scattered in heaps. Merodach, the great lord, excited my mind to repair this building,^' &c. Whatever differences may exist among scholars as to the exact interpretation of the inscriptions in cuneiform character, there can be no doubt that the department undertaken by Professor Rawlinson, who has furnished a long series of valuable articles, could not have been entrusted to better hands. We are sorry not to be able to speak quite as favourably of Mr. R. S. Poole's articles. The absurd blunders which are constantly made by biblical scholars when they ap- peal to Egyptian lore for illustration, and the frequency of these appeals, furnish very good reasons for entrusting an important department of the Dictionary to a competent and trustworthy scholar. But Mr. Poole, in spite of his undoubted learning, is not altogether to be depended upon. In this department there are, of course, blunders and omissions for which he is not re- sponsible. He is not to be blamed if the derivation of Behemoth m from an impossible Coptic word supposed to signify " water-ox'*^ J is repeated by Mr. Drake and Mr. Bevan ; he would, no doubt, if consulted, have assured Dr. Stanley that tlie etymology of the name Moses, from the Coptic " mo — water, and ushe —
Dr, Smith's Dictionary of the Bible, 663
saved," is not to be seriously thought of ; he would have been able to give curious and interesting information not found in the articles "Askalon," ''Damascus," and others. The dis- covery made by M. Chabas that the Egyptians practised circum- cision at a time which we believe to be anterior to the Exodus, and that of the etymology of I^o-Ammon, are too recent to have been utilised. But our quarrel with him is not for being be- hind the best Egyptologists of the day, or for the faults and shortcomings of his fellow-contributors, but for his own serious mistakes, and particularly for using the pages of so important a work of reference as a Bible Dictionary (and so many of them too) for the purpose of giving currency to fancies which, he should be aware, can never meet with the sanction of first-rate scholars. We are aware that he sometimes ventures to express his dissent from the authority of great scholars, but it is not by any means clear that he does so with advantage to himself or others. In the article " Magic,'' for instance, he conjectures an etymological relation between the Hebrew teraphim and an Egyptian group which beyond all question ought to be read cheper, but which he reads ter. The difficulty arising from the want in this word of the third radical of teraphim he acknow- ledges to be a serious one ; but he falls back " on our present state of ignorance respecting the ancient Egyptian and the primitive language of Chaldsea in their verbal relations to the Semitic family."
The following note, however, strikes us with astonishment :
"Egyptologists have generally read this word TEE. Mr. Birch, however, reads it CHEPER. .... The balance is decided by the discovery of the Coptic equivalent TCV * transmutare,' in which the absence of the final R is explained by a peculiar but regular modifica- tion which the writer was the first to point out (Hieroglyphics, Ency- clopcedia Britannicay 8th ed. p. 421)."
Here we have, in the first place, a statement implying that a reading, cheper, of one of the commonest words in the Egyp- tian language (it signifies be, become) is peculiar to Mr. Birch, Egyptologists in general reading the word otherwise ; whilst it is notorious, on the other hand, that ever since Mr. Birch dis- covered proofs of the reading cheper, every Egyptologist of note has accepted this reading. The evidence in its favour was irresistible. And, secondly, Mr. Poole has the appearance at least of claiming the priority of the discovery of an important philological law which is distinctly enunciated by ChampoUion in his Egyptian Grammar.
All competent judges, we are sure, will agree with us that Mr. Poole is not the safest guide in Egyptian philology, and.
664" Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible,
will be disposed to look with suspicion on his numerous contri- butions to Dr. Smith's Dictionary. The speculations in the articles " Naphtuhim^^ and "Phut^^ are quite unfit for such a work. And what else can be said of the following chain of rea- soning from the article *' Caphtor, Caphtorim" ? The Phi- listines, it will be remembered, are said to have come from Caphtor, and are called Caphtorim.
*^The writer {Encyclopcedia Britannica^ 8th ed., Egypt, p. 419) has proposed to recognise Caphtor in the ancient Egyptian name of Coptos. This name, if Hterally transcribed, is written in the hieroglyphics Kebtu, Keb-ta, and Keb-Her,i^ probably pronounced Kubt, Kabt, and Kebt- Hor (Brugsch, Geogr. Inschr. Taf. xxxviii. no. 899,900), whence Coptic . . . Gr. KoTTTos, Arab . . . Kuft. The similarity of name is so great that it alone might satisfy us ; but the correspondence of AiyirTrros, as if ATa yvTCTO'Si to ""•i^^? ■'s:, unless "^i? refer to the Philistine coast, seems conclusive. We must not suppose, however, that Caphtor was Coptos : it must rather be compared to the Coptite nome, probably in primitive ages of greater extent than under the Ptolemies, for the num- ber of nomes was in the course of time greatly extended."
The articles " Chronology,' ' *' Egypt,'' "The Exodus," " Pharaoh," and some others, are written for the purpose of supporting what we consider a completely false system of bib- lical chronology. Some, indeed, of Mr. Poole's chronological arguments we confess to be unintelligible to us. We do not understand, for instance, his favourite one, " from the celebra- tion of great passovers.'' The paragraph on "sabbatical and jubilee years" finishes with the following sentence : " This re- sult would place the Exodus in the middle of the seventeenth century B.C., a time for which we believe there is a preponder- ance of evidence." We find it impossible to discover the pre- misses or train of reasoning which are supposed to lead to this result.
Other arguments of Mr. Poole for his date of the Exodus have already been noticed in this Review, and it is unnecessary to repeat the arguments by which they are met. It is, however, important to state that his solution of the difiiculty about the treasure-cities Pithom and Pameses appears to us untenable. " We need only repeat,'' he says, " that the highest date to which Pameses I. can be reasonably assigned is consistent alone with the Pabbinical date of the Exodus, and that we find a prince of the same name two centuries earlier, and therefore at a time perhaps consistent with Ussher's date, so that the place might have taken its name either from this prince or a yet earlier king or prince Rameses." This solution of a really in-
"• Keb-Her or Keb-Hor signifies " the Coptos of the god Horus." The god's name is no part of the geographical name.
Br. Smitlis Dictionary of the Bible, 665
surmountable difficulty in the way of Mr. Poole's chronological hypothesis inyolves an important philological error. The He- brew transcription DOa^i leaves no doubt as to the Egyptian name for which it stands. That name is the royal one of Ra- mes-es, frequently written Ra-mes-su ; and the formation of it is very remarkable. It is not made up of two elements, like Aah-mes, Thoth-mes, Chonsu-mes, but of three. The second D of the Hebrew transcription represents as distinct and essential a syllabic portion of the name as the first syllable, 37^, or the second, D>::. Whatever explanation be given of the name, it is not grammatically equivalent to Ea-mes, which is literally " Sun-born." This, and not Rameses, is the name of the prince referred to by Mr. Poole. To identify the two names is as great an error as to confound Forest and Forester.
The science of language is represented in two or three arti- cles. That on " Shemitic Languages and Writing," by Arch- deacon Ormerod, contains a good , deal of interesting matter borrowed from Max Miiller, Renan, Ewald, and other philolo- gists; but the writer's own judgment is by no means to be relied upon. The following passage will, we suspect, meet but little favour among really sound philologists :
*' Is it altogether a wild conjecture to assume as not impossible the formation of a sacred language among the chosen people, at so marked a period of their history as that of Moses ? Every argument leads to a belief that the popular dialect of the Hebrews from a very early period was deeply tinged with Aramaic, and that it continued so. But there is surely nothing unlikely or inconsistent in the notion that he who was 'learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians' should have been taught to introduce a sacred language, akin but superior to the every-day dialect of his people, — the property of the rulers, and which subsequent writers should be guided to copy."
There remain, of course, a great many articles of which we have not spoken ; but, with the exception of those belonging to the department of natural history, which cannot be too highly praised, they do not call for any special notice. Our remarks have been confined to those upon which the character of the Dictionary chiefly depends; and with reference to them, it is impossible for us to judge more favourably than we have done in the foregoing pages. They are unsatisfactory from a purely scientific point of view ; and, if considered with reference to the apologetic purpose which seems to have inspired many of them, they are deplorable. During the last hundred years the external evidences of Christianity have undergone a profound modification, partly through changes of opinion as to the nature of historical evidence in general, and partly through the discus- sion of evidences special to Christianity. That which was for-
666 Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible,
merly considered important evidence in political or literary history is now, in many cases, not considered as evidence at all. It cannot be expected that, if the apostolic antiquity of the gospels is called in question, its adversaries will accept as con- vincing what might have been a hundred years ago, but would not now be, so considered in the case of profane literature. It has been demonstrated that part of the evidence to which learned Protestants appealed in past times is in fact part of that very Catholic tradition against which the Reformers pro- tested, and that its sole cogency as evidence is derived from the authority, rightly or wrongly, assigned to Catholic tradition as such.^^ It cannot be accepted without involving the additional evidence which it furnishes of the apostolic origin of the entire Catholic system, as found in the Fathers of the latter half of the second century. And this, again, involves a great deal more than is explicitly written in the works of the Fathers. Every argu- ment which tells against tradition tells also against the evidence for the Bible ; and the Bible can only recover its authority on grounds which cannot be conceded without also admitting the fundamental doctrines of Catholicism.
-0 " Abgesehen von dieser Halbheit verwickelte sich jedoch der Protestan- tismus mit seiner Verwerfung der Tradition in anflfallende Inkonsequenzen. Einerseits sind die katholischen Ueberlieferungen, die er fallen liess, zum Theil Tim nichts schlechter geschichtlich bezeugt, als diejenigen die es in christlichem Interesse festlialten zu miissen geglaubt hat ; andererseits ist es ja einzig die katholische Tradition, durch welche das N. T. selbst beglaubigt und Tcrbiirgt ist ; denn dass jene Schriften, in welehen der Protestantismus seine normativen Glaubensurkunden erkennt, wirklich apostolischen TJrsprungs seyen, sagt uns nur jene kirchliche Tradition, deren Gultigkeit und zuiangliche Beweiskraft die Reformation eben bestreitet." Schwegler, Nachapostolisches Zeitalter, B. i. p. 3.
[ 667 ]
CONFLICTS WITH ROME.
Among the causes \Yliich have brought dishonour on the Church in recent years, none have had a more fatal operation than those conflicts with science and literature which have led men to dis- pute the competence, or the justice, or the wisdom, of her au- thorities. Rare as such conflicts have been, they have awakened a special hostility which the defenders of Catholicism have not succeeded in allaying. They have induced a suspicion that the Church, in her zeal for the prevention of error, represses that intellectual freedom which is essential to the progress of truth ; that she allows an administrative interference with con- victions to which she cannot attach the stigma of falsehood; and that she claims a right to restrain the growth of knowledge, to justify an acquiescence in ignorance, to promote error, and even to alter at her arbitrary will the dogmas that are proposed to faith. There are few faults or errors imputed to Catholicism, which individual Catholics have not committed or held; and the instances on which these particular accusations are founded have sometimes been supplied by the acts of authority itself. Dishonest controversy loves to confound the personal with the spiritual element in the Church — to ignore the distinction be- tween the sinful agents and the divine institution. And this confusion makes it easy to deny, what otherwise would be too evident to question, that knowledge has a freedom in the Ca- tholic Church which it can find in no other religion ; though there, as elsewhere, freedom degenerates unless it has to struggle in its own defence.
Nothing can better illustrate this truth than the actual course of events in the cases of Lamennais and Frohschammer. They are two of the most conspicuous instances in point ; and they exemplify the opposite mistakes through which a haze of obscurity has gathered over the true notions of authority and freedom in the Church. The correspondence of Lamennais and the later writings of Frohschammer furnish a revelation which ought to warn all those who, through ignorance, or timidity, or weakness of faith, are tempted to despair of the reconciliation between science and religion, and to acquiesce either in the sub- ordination of one to the other, or in their complete separation and estrangement. Of these alternatives Lamennais chose the first, Frohschammer the second ; and the exaggeration of the claims of authority by the one, and the extreme assertion of independence by the other, have led them, by contrary paths, to nearly the same end.
668 Conflicts loith Rome,
When Lamennais surveyed the fluctuations of science, the multitude of opinions, the confusion and conflict of theories, he ■was led to doubt the efficacy of all human tests of truth. Science seemed to him essentially tainted with hopeless uncertainty. In his ignorance of its methods, he fancied them incapable of attaining to any thing more than a greater or less degree of probability, and powerless to afford a strict demonstration, or to distinguish the deposit of real knowledge amidst the turbid current of opinion. He refused to admit that there is a sphere within which metaphysical philosophy speaks with absolute certainty, or that the landmarks set up by history and natural science may be such as neither authority nor prescription, neither the doctrine of the schools ner the interest of the Church, has the power to disturb or the right to evade. These sciences presented to his eyes a chaos incapable of falling into order and haniiony by any internal self-development, and re- quiring the action of an external director to clear up its dark- ness and remove its uncertainty. He thought that no research, however rigorous, could make sure of any fragment of know- ledge worthy the name, tie admitted no certainty but that which relied on the general tradition of mankind, recorded and sanctioned by the infallible judgment of the Holy See. He would have all power committed, and every question referred, to that supreme and universal authority. Y^y its means he would supply all the gaps in the horizon of the human intellect, settle every controversy, solve the problems of science, and regulate the policy of states.
The extreme Ultramontanism which seeks the safeguard of faith in the absolutism of Rome he believed to be the keystone of the Catholic system. In his eyes, all who rejected it, the Jesuits among them, were Galileans ; and Gallicanism was the corruption of the Christian idea.^ " If my principles are re- jected," he wrote on the 1st of November 1820, "I see no means of defending religion effectually, no decisive answer to the objections of the unbelievers of our time. How could these principles be favourable to them? they are simply the development of the great Catholic maxim, quod semper, quod uhique, quod ah omnibus." Joubert said of him, with perfect justice, that when he destroyed all the bases of human certainty, in order to tretain no foundation but authority, he destroyed authority itself. The confidence which led him to confound the human element with the divine in the Holy See was destined to be tried by the severest of all tests ; and his exaggeration of the infallibility of the Pope proved fatal to his religious faith.
In 1831 the Eoman Breviary was not to be bought in Paris. ^ Lvimenn&is, Correspondance. Nouvelle edition. (Paris: Didier.)
Conflicts icith Rome, 669
We may hence measure the amount of opposition with which Lamennais's endeavours to exalt Rome would be met by the majority of the French bishops and clergy, and by the school of St. Sulpice. For him, on the other hand, no terms were too strong to express his animosity against those who rejected his teaching and thwarted his designs. The bishops he railed at as idiotic devotees, incredibly blind, supernaturally foolish. The Jesuits, he said, were " grenadiers de la folie,^^ and united imbecility with the vilest passions.^ He fancied that in many dioceses there was a conspiracy to destroy religion, that a schism was at hand, and that the reoistance of the clergy to his prin- ciples threatened to destroy Catholicism in France. Rome, he was sure, would help him in his struggle against her faithless assailants, on behalf of her authority, and in his endeavours to make the clergy refer their disputes to her, so as to receive from the Pope's mouth the infallible oracles of eternal truth.^ Whatever the Pope might decide, would, he said, be right, for the Pope alone was infallible. Bishops might be sometimes resisted, but the Pope never.^ It was both absurd and blas- phemous even to advise him. " I have read in the Diario di Roma,'' he said, " the advice of M. de Chateaubriand to the Holy Ghost. At any rate, the Holy Ghost is fully warned ; and if he makes a mistake this time, it will not be the ambas- sador's fault.'-'
Three Popes passed away ; and still nothing was done against the traitors he was for ever denouncing. This reserve astounded him. Was Rome herself tainted with Gallicanism, and in league with those who had conspired for her destruction ? What but a schism could ensue from this inexplicable apathy ? The silence was a grievous trial to his faith. " Let us shut our eyes,'' he said, " let us invoke the Holy Spirit, let us collect all the powers of our soul, that our faith may not be shaken."^ In his perplexity he began to make distinctions between the Pope and the Roman Court. The advisers of the Pope were traitors, dwellers in the outer darkness, blind and deaf; the Pope himself and he alone was infallible, and would never act so as to injure the faith, though meanwhile he was not aware of the real state of things, and was evidently deceived by false reports.^ A few months later came the necessity for a further distinction be- tween the Pontiff and the Sovereign. If the doctrines of the Avenir had caused displeasure at Rome, it was only on political grounds. If the Pope was oiFended, he was offended not as Vicar of Christ, but as a temporal monarch implicated in the political system of Europe. In his capacity of spiritual head of
2 April 12 and June 25, 1830. 3 ^cb. 27, 1831.
* March 30, 1831. ^ May 8 and June 15, 1829. ^ j-gb^ 5, 1830.
670 . Coirflicts with Rome,
the Clmrch, he could not condemn writers for sacrificing all human and political considerations to the supreme interests of the Church, but must in reality agree with them."^ As the Polish Revolution brought the political questions into greater prominence, Lamennais became more and more convinced of the wickedness of those who surrounded Gregory XVI., and of the political incompetence of the Pope himself. He described him as weeping and praying, motionless amidst the darkness which the ambitious, corrupt, and frantic idiots around him were ever striving to thicken.^ Still he felt secure. When the foundations of the Church were threatened, when an essential doctrine was at stake, though, for the first time in eighteen cen- turies, the supreme authority might refuse to speak,^ at least it could not speak out against the truth. In this belief he made his last journey to Rome. Then came his condemnation. The staflf on which he leaned with all his weight broke in his hands; the authority he had so grossly exaggerated turned against him; and his faith was left without support. His system supplied no resource for such an emergency. He submitted, not because he was in error, but because Catholics had no right to defend the Church against the supreme will even of an erring PontifF.^^ He was persuaded that his silence would injure religion, yet he deemed it his duty to be silent and to abandon theology. He had ceased to believe that the Pope could not err ; but he still believed that he could not lawfully be disobeyed. In the two years during which he still remained in the Church his faith in her system fell rapidly to pieces. Within two months after the publication of the Encyclica he wrote that the Pope, like the other princes, seemed careful not to omit any blunder that could secure his annihilation.^^ Three weeks afterwards he de- nounced, in the fiercest terms, the corruption of Rome. He predicted that the ecclesiastical hierarchy was about to depart with the old monarchies ; and, though the Church could not die, he would not undertake to say that she would revive in her old forms. ^'-^ The Pope, he said, had so zealously embraced the cause of antichristian despotism as to sacrifice to it the religion of which he was the chief. He no longer felt it possible to distinguish what was immutable in the external organisation of the Church. He admitted the personal fallibility of the Pope, and declared that, though it was impossible, without Rome, to defend Catholicism successfully, yet nothing could be hoped for from her, and that she seemed to have condemned Catholicism to die.^'^ The Pope, he soon afterwards said, was in league with the kings in opposition to the eternal truths of religion,
' Aug. 15, 1831. « Feb. 10, 1832. » July 6, 1829.
>» Sept. 15, 1832. " Oct. 9, 1832. ^2 Jan. 25, 1833. '3 Feb. 5, 1833.
Conflicts ivith Rome, 67!
the hierarchy was out of court, and a transformation like that from which the Church and Papacy had sprung was about to bring them both to an end, after eighteen centuries, in Gregory XVI.^^ Before the following year was over he had ceased to be in communion with the Catholic Church.
The fall of Lamennais, however impressive as a warning, is of no great historical importance ; for he carried no -one with him, and his favourite disciples became the ablest defenders of Catholicism in France. But it exemplifies one of the natural consequences of dissociating secuhir from religious truth, and denying that they hold in solution all the elements necessary for their reconciliation and union. In more recent times, the same error has led, by a contrary path, to still more lamentable results, and scepticism on the possibility of harmonising reason and faith has once more driven a philosopher into heresy. Between the fiiU of Lamennais and the conflict with Froh- schammer many metaphysical writers among the Catholic clergy had incurred the censures of Rome. It is enough to cite Bautain in France, Eosmini in Italy, and Giinther in Austria. But in these cases no scandal ensued, and the decrees were received with prompt and hearty submission. In the cases of Lamennais and Frohschammer no speculative question was ori- ginally at issue, but only the question of authority. A com- parison between their theories will explain the similarity in the courses of the two men, and at the same time will account for the contrast between the isolation of Lamennais and the influ- ence of Frohschammer, though the one was the most eloquent writer in France, and the head of a great school, and the other, before the late controversy, was not a writer of much name. This contrast is the more remarkable since religion had not re- vived in France when the French philosopher wrote, while for the last quarter of a century Bavaria has been distinguished among Catholic nations for the faith of her people. Yet La- mennais was powerless to injure a generation of comparatively ill-instructed Catholics, while Frohschammer, with inferior gifts- of persuasion, has won educated followers even in the home of Ultramontanism.
The first obvious explanation of this dIflSculty is the narrow- ness of Lamennais's philosophy. At the time of his dispute with the Holy See he had somewhat lost sight of his tradition- alist theory ; and his attention, concentrated upon politics, was. directed to the problem of reconciling religion with liberty, — a question with which the best minds in France are still occupied. But how can a view of policy constitute a philosophy? He began by thinking that it was expedient for the Church to ob- » March 25, 1833.
672 Conflicts with Rome
tain the safeguards of freedom, and tliat she shonld renounce the losing cause of the old regime. But this was no more philosophy than the similar argument which had previously won her to the side of despotism when it was the stronger cause. As Bonald, however, had erected absolute monarchy into a dogma, so La- mennais proceeded to do with freedom. The Church, he said, was on the side of freedom, because it was the just side, not because it was the stronger. As De Maistre had seen the vic- tory of Catholic principles in the Restoration, so Lamennuis saw it in the revolution of 1830.
This was obviously too narrow and temporary a basis for a philosophy. The Church is interested, not in the triumph of a principle or a cause which may be dated as that of 1789, or of 1815, or of 1830, but in the triumph of justice and the just cause, whether it be that of the people or of the crown, of a Catholic party or of its opponents. She admits the tests of public law and political science. When these proclaim the existence of the conditions which justify an insurrection or a war, she cannot condemn that insurrection or that war. She is guided in her judgment on these causes by criteria which are not her own, but are borrowed from departments over which she has no supreme control. This is as true of science as it is of law and politics. Other truths are as certain as those which natural or positive law embraces, and other obligations as im- perative as those w^iich regulate the relations of subjects and authorities. The principle which places right above expedience in the political action of the Church has an equal application in history or in astronomy. The Church can no more identify her cause with scientific error than w^ith political wrong. Her interests may be impaired by some measure of political justice, or by the admission of some fact or document. But in neither case can she guard her interests at the cost of denying the truth.
This is the principle which has so much difficulty in obtain- ing recognition in an age when science is more or less irre- ligious, and when Catholics more or less neglect its study. Political and intellectual liberty have the same claims and the same conditions in the eyes of the Church. The Catholic judges the measures of governments and the discoveries of science in exactly the same manner. Public law may make it imperative to overthrow a Catholic monarch, like James II., or to uphold a Protestant monarch, like the King of Prussia. The demonstrations of science may oblige us to believe that the earth revolves round the sun, or that the donation of Con- stantine is epurious. The apparent interests of religion have much to say against all this; but religion itself prevents those
Conflicts with Rome, 6T3
considerations from prevailing. Tliis has not been seen by those writers who have done most in defence of the principle. They have usually considered it from the standing ground of their own practical aims, and have therefore foiled to attain that general view which might have been suggested to them by the pursuit of truth as a whole. French writers have done much for political liberty, and Germans for intellectual liberty; but the defenders of the one cause have generally had so little sympathy with the other, that they have nefrlected to defend their own on the grounds common to both. There is hardly a Catholic writer who has penetrated to the common source from which they spring. And this is the greatest defect in Catholic literature, even to the present day.
In the majority of those who have afforded the chief ex- amples of this error, and particularly in Lamennais, the weak- ness of faith which it implies has been united with that looseness of thought which resolves all knowledge into opinion, and fails to appreciate methodical investigation or scientific evidence. But it is less easy to explain how a priest, fortified with the armour of Geruian science, should have failed as completely in the same enquiry. In order to solve the difficulty, we must go back to the time when the theory of Frohschammer arose, and review some of the circumstances out of which it sprang.
For adjusting the relations between science and authority, the method of Rome had long been that of economy and accom- modation. In dealing with literature, her paramount consider- ation was the fear of scandal. Books were forbidden, not merely because their statements were denied, but because they seemed injurious to morals, derogatory to authority, or dangerous to faith. To be so, it was not necessary that they should be un- true. For isolated truths separated from other known truths by an interval of conjecture, in which error might find room to construct its works, may offer perilous occasions to unprepared and unstable minds. The policy was therefore to allow such truths to be put forward only hypothetically, or altogether to suppress them. The latter alternative was especially appro- priated to historical investigations, because they contained most elements of danger. In them the progress of knowledge has been for centuries constant, rapid, and sure ; every generation has brought to light masses of information previously unknown, the successive publication of which furnished ever new incen- tives and more and more ample means of enquiry into ecclesi- astical history. This enquiry has gradually laid bare the whole policy and process of ecclesiastical authority, and has removed from the past that veil of mystery wherewith, like all other au- thorities, it tries to surround the present. The human element
%
674 Conflicts with Rome,
in ecclesiastical administration endeavours to keep itself out of sight, and to deny its own existence, in order that it may se- cure the unquestioning submission which authority naturally desires, and may preserve that halo of infallibility which the twilight of opinion enables it to assume. Now the most severe exposure of the part played by this human element is found in histories w^hich show the undeniable existence of sin, error, or fraud, in the high-places of the Church. Not, indeed, that any history furnishes, or can furnish, materials for undermining the authority which the dogmas of the Church proclaim to be neces- sary for her existence. But the true limits of legitimate autho- rity are one thing, and the area which authority may find it expedient to attempt to occupy is another. The interests of the Church are not necessarily identical with those of the ecclesias- tical government. A government does not desire its powers to be strictly defined ; but the subjects require the line to be drawn with increasing precision. Authority may be protected by its subjects being kept in ignorance of its faults, and by their hold- ing it in superstitious admiration. But religion has no commu- nion with any manner of error ; and the conscience can only be injured by such arts, which, in reality, give a far more formidable measure of the influence of the human element in ecclesiastical government than any collection of detached cases of scandal can do. For these arts are simply those of all human govern- ments which possess legislative power, fear attack, deny re- sponsibility, and therefore shrink from scrutiny.
One of the great instruments for preventing historical scru- tiny had long been the Index of prohibited books, which was accordingly directed, not against falsehood only, but particularly against certain departments of truth. Through it an effort had been made to keep the knowledge of ecclesiastical history from the faithful, and to give currency to a fabulous and fictitious picture of the progress and action of the Church. The means would have been found quite inadequate to the end, if it had not been for the fact that while society was absorbed by con- troversy knowledge was only valued so far as it served a con- troversial purpose. Every party in those days virtually had its own prohibitive Index, to brand all inconvenient truths w^ith the note of falsehood. No party cared for knowledge that could not be made available for arg-ument. Neutral and ambifi^uous science
• -r
had no attractions for men engaged in perpetual combat. Its spirit first won the naturalists, the mathematicians, and the phi- lologists ; then it vivified the otherwise aimless erudition of the Benedictines; and at last it was carried into history, to give new life to those sciences which deal with the tradition, tlic law, and the action of the Church.
Conflicts with Rome, 675
The home of this transformation was in the universities of Germany; for there the Catholic teacher was placed in circum- stances altogether novel. He had to address men who had every opportunity of becoming familiar with the arguments of the enemies of the Church, and with the discoveries and con- clusions of those whose studies were without the bias of any religious object. Whilst he lectured in one room, the next might be occupied by a pantheist, a rationalist, or a Lutheran, descanting on the same topics. When he left the desk, his place miglit be taken by some great original thinker or scholar, who would display all the results of his meditations without regard for their tendency, and without considering what effects they might have on the weak. He was obliged often to draw attention to books lacking the Catholic spirit, but indispensable to the deeper student. Here, therefore, the system of secrecy, economy, and accommodation was rendered impossible by the competition of knowledge, in which the most thorough ex- position of the truth was sure of the victory; and the system itself became inapplicable as the scientific spirit penetrated ecclesiastical literature in Germany.
In Rome, however, where the influences of competition were not felt, the reasons of the change could not be understood, nor its benefits experienced; and it was thought absurd that the Germans of the nineteenth century should discard weapons which had been found efl^icacious with the Germans of the six- teenth. While in Rome it was still held that the truths of science need not be told, and ought not to be told, if, in the judgment of Roman theologians, they were of a nature to offend faith, in Germany Catholics vied with Protestants in publishing matter without being diverted by the consideration Avhether it might serve or injure their cause in controversy, or whether it was adverse or favourable to the views which it was the object of the Index to protect. But though this great antagonism existed, there was no collision. A moderation was exhibited which contrasted remarkably with the aggressive spirit pre- vailing in France and Italy. rPublications were suffered to pass unnoted in Germany which would have been immediately cen- sured if they had come forth beyond the Alps or the Rhine. In this way a certain laxity grew up side by side with an un- measured distrust, and German theologians and historians es- caped censure.
This toleration gains significance from its contrast to the severity with which Rome smote the German philosophers like Hermes and Giinther when they erred. Here, indeed, the case was very different. If Rome had insisted upon suppressing docu- ments, perverting facts, and resisting criticism, she would have
VOL. IV. y y
676 Conflicts with Rome,
been only opposing truth, and opposing it consciously, for fear of its inconveniences. But if she had refrained from denouncing a philosophy which denied creation or the personality of God, she would have failed to assert her own doctrines against her own children who contradicted them. The philosopher cannot claim the same exemption as the historian. God's handwriting exists in history independently of the Church, and no ecclesiastical exigence can alter a fact. The divine lesson has been read; and it is the historian's duty to copy it faithfully without bias and without ulterior views. The Catholic may be sure that as the Church has lived in spite of the fact, she will also survive its publication. But philosophy has to deal with some facts which, although as absolute and objective in themselves, are not and cannot be known to us except through revelation, of which the Church is the organ. A philosophy which requires the altera- tion of these facts is in patent contradiction against the Church. Both cannot coexist. One must destroy the other.
Two circumstances very naturally arose to disturb this equilibrium. There were divines who wished to extend to Germany the old authority of the Index, and to censure or pro- hibit books which, though not heretical, contained matter in- jurious to the reputation of ecclesiastical authority, or contrary to the common opinions of Catholic theologians. On the other hand, there were philosophers, of the schools of Hermes and Giinther, who would not retract the doctrines which the Church condemned. One movement tended to repress even the know- ledge of demonstrable truth ; and the other aimed at destroying the dogmatic authority of the Holy See. In this way a colli- sion was prepared, which was eventually brought about by the writings of Dr. Frohschammer,
Ten years ago, when he was a very young lecturer on philosophy in the university of Munich, he published a work on the origin of the soul, in which he argued against the theory of preexistence, and against the common opinion that each soul is created directly by Almighty God, defending the theory of Generatianism by the authority of several Fathers, and quot- ing, among other modern divines, Klee, the author of the most esteemed treatise of dogmatic theology in the German language. It was decided at Rome that his book should bo condemned ; and he was informed of the intention, in order that he might announce his submission before the publication of the decree.
His position was a difficult one; and it appears to be ad- mitted that his conduct at this stage was not j)rompted by those opinions on the authority of the Church, in which he afterwards took refuge, but must be explained by the known facts of the case. His doctrine had been lately taught in a book generally
Conflicts with Rome. 677
read and approved. He was convinced that he had at least refuted the opposite theories; and yet it was apparently in be- half of one of these that he was condemned. Whatever errors his book contained, he might fear that an act of submission would seem to imply his acceptance of an opinion he heartily believed to be wrong, and would therefore be an act of treason to truth. The decree conveyed no conviction to his mind. It is only the utterances of an infallible authority that men can believe without argument and explanation ; and here was an autho- rity not infallible, giving no reasons, and yet claiming a sub- mission of the reason. Dr. Frohschammer found himself in a dilemma. To submit absolutely would either be a virtual acknowledgment of the infallibility of the authority, or a con- fession that an ecclesiastical decision necessarily bound the mind irrespectively of its truth or justice. In either case, he would have contradicted the law of religion and of the Church. To submit, while retaining his own opinion, to a disciplinary decree, in order to preserve peace and avoid scandal, and to make a general acknowledgment that his work contained various ill- considered and equivocal statements which might bear a bad construction, — such a conditional submission either would not have been that which the Koman Court desired and intended, or, if made without explicit statement of its meaning, would have been in some measure deceitful and hypocritical. In the first case it would not have been received ; in the second case it could not have been made without loss of S2lf-respect. More- over, as the writer was a public professor, bound to instruct his hearers accordino; to his best knowledge, he could not change his teaching while his opinion remained unchanged. These considerations, and not any desire to defy authority, or introduce new opinions by a process more or less revolutionary, appear to have guided his conduct. At this period it might have been possible to arrive at an understanding, or to obtain satisfactory explanations, if the Roman Court would have told him what points were at issue, what passages in his book were impugned, and what were the grounds for suspecting them. If there was on both sides a peaceful and conciliatory spirit, and a desire to settle the problem, there was certainly a chance of ciFecting it by a candid interchange of explanations. It was a course which had proved efficacious on other occasions ; and in the then recent discussion of Giinther's system it had been pur- sued with great patience, and decided success.
Before giving a definite reply, therefore, Dr. Frohschammer asked for information about the incriminated articles. This would have given him an opportunity of seeing his error, and making a submission in for o interno. But the request was re-
GTS Conflicts with Rome,
fused. It was a favour, he was told, sometimes extended to men whose great services to the Church deserved such consideration, but not to one who was hardly known except by the very book which had incurred the censure. This answer instantly aroused a suspicion that the Roman Court was more anxious to assert its authority than to correct an alleged error, or to prevent a scandal. It was well known that the mistrust of German phi- losophy was very deep at Rome; and it seemed far from im- possible that an intention existed to put it under all possible restraint.
This mistrust on the part of the Roman divines was fully equalled, and so far justified, by a corresponding literary con- tempt on the part of many German Catholic scholars. It is easy to understand the grounds of this feeling. The German writers were ensrasjed in an arduous strus^gle in which their antagonists were sustained by intellectual power, solid learn- ing, and deep thought, such as the defenders of the Church in Catholic countries have never had to encounter. In this conflict the Italian divines could render no assistance. They had shown themselves altogether incompetent to cope with modern science. The Germans, therefore, unable to recognise them as auxiliaries, soon ceased to regard them as equals, or as scientific divines at all. Without impeaching their orthodoxy, they learned to look on them as men incapable of understanding and mastering the ideas of a literature so very remote from their own, and to attach no more value to the unreasoned decrees of their organ than to the undefended ipse dixit of a theologian of secondary rank. This opinion sprang, not from national pre- judice or from the self-appreciation of individuals comparing their own works with those of the Roman divines, but from a general view of the relation of those divines, among whom there are several distinguished Germans, to the literature of Germany. It was thus a corporate feeling, which might be shared even by one who was conscious of his own inferiority, or who had written nothing at all. Such a man, weighing the opinion of the theo- logians of the Gesu and the Minerva, not in the scale of his own performances, but in that of the great achievements of his age, might well be reluctant to accept their verdict upon them without some aid of argument and explanation.
On the other hand, it appeared that a blow which struck the Catholic scholars of Germany would assure to the victorious congregation of Roman divines an easy supremacy over the writers of all other countries. The case of Dr. Frohschammer might be made to test what degree of control it would be pos- sible to exercise over his countrymen, the only body of writers at whom alarm was felt, and who insisted, more than others, on
Conflicts ivith Home, 679
their freedom. But the suspicion of such a possibility was likely only to confirm him in the idea that he was chosen to be the experimental body on which an important principle was to be decided, and that it was his duty, till his dogmatic error was proved, to resist a questionable encroachment of authority upon the rights of freedom. He therefore refused to make the preli- minary submission which was required of him, and allowed the decree to go forth against him in the usual way. Hereupon it was intimated to him — though not by Rome — that he had in- curred excommunication. This was the measure which raised the momentous question of the liberties of Catholic science, and gave the impulse to that new theory on the limits of authority with which his name has become associated.
In the civil aifairs of mankind, it is necessary to assume that the knowledge of the moral code and the traditions of law can- not perish in a Christian nation. Particular authorities may fall into error; decisions may be appealed against; laws may be repealed. But the political conscience of the whole people can- not be irrecoverably lost. The Church possesses the same pri- vilege, but in a much higher degree ; for she exists expressly for the purpose of preserving a definite body of truths, the knowledge of which she can never lose. Whatever authority therefore expresses that knowledge of which she is the keeper must be obeyed. But there is no institution from which this knowledge can be obtained with immediate certainty. A coun- cil is not a priori oecumenical ; the Holy See is not separately infallible. The one has to await a sanction ; the other has re- peatedly erred. Every decree, therefore, requires a preliminary examination.
A writer who is censured may in the first place yield an external submission, either for the sake of discipline, or because his conviction is too weak to support him against the weight of authority. But if the question at issue is more important than the preservation of peace, and if his conviction is strong, he en- quires whether the authority which condemns him utters the voice of the Church. If he finds that it does, he yields to it, or ceases to profess the faith of Catholics. If he finds that it does not, but is only the voice of authority, he owes it to his conscience, and to the supreme claims of truth, to remain constant to that which he believes, in spite of opposition. No authority has power to impose error; and, if it resists the truth, the truth must be upheld until it is admitted. Now the adversaries of Dr. Froh- schammer had fallen into the monstrous error of attributing to the Congregation of the Index a share in the infallibility of the Church. He was placed in the position of a persecuted man; and the general sympathy was with him. In his defence he
680 Conflicts with Rome,
proceeded to state his theory of the rights of science, in order to vindicate the Church from the imputation of restricting its freedom. Hitherto his works liad been written in defence of a Christian philosophy against materiahsm and infidelity. Their object had been thoroughly religious ; and although he was not deeply read in ecclesiastical literature, and was often loose and incautious in the use of theological terms, his writings had not been wanting in catholicity of spirit. But after his condemna- tion by Rome he undertook to pull down the power which had dealt the blow, and to make himself safe for the future. In this spirit of personal antagonism he commenced a long series of writings in defence of freedom and in defiance of authority.
The following abstract marks, not so much the outline of his system, as the logical steps which carried him to the point where he passed beyond the limits of Catholicism. Religion, he taught, supplies materials but no criterion for philosophy; philosophy has nothing to rely on, in the last resort, but the unfailing veracity of our nature, which is not corrupt or weak, but nor- mally healthy, and unable to deceive us.^^ There is not greater division or uncertainty in matters of speculation than on ques- tions of faith. ^^ If at any time error or doubt should arise, the science possesses in itself the means of correcting or removing it, and no other remedy is efficacious but that which it applies to itself. ^^ There can be no free philosophy if w^e must always remember dogma.^^ Philosophy includes in its sphere all the dogmas of revelation, as well as those of natural religion. It examines by its own independent light the substance of every Christian doctrine, and determines in each case whether it be divine truth.^9 The conclusions and judgments at which it thus arrives must be maintained even when they contradict articles of faith.^^ As we accept the evidence of astronomy in opposi- tion to the once settled opinion of divines, so we should not shrink from the evidence of chemistry if it should be adverse to transsubstantiation.-^ The Church, on the other hand, examines these conclusions by her standard of faith, and decides whether they can be taught in theology.^^ But she has no means of ascertaining the philosophical truth of an opinion, and cannot convict the philosopher of error. The two domains are as dis- tinct as reason and faith ; and we must not identify what we know with what we believe, but must separate the philosopher from his philosophy. The system may be utterly at variance with the whole teaching of Christianity, and yet the philosopher,
'* Naturphiloaophie, p. 115; Einleitung in die Philosophie, pp. 40, 54; Freiheit der Wissenschaft, pp. 4, 89 ; Athendum, i. 17.
•^ AthenUum, i. 92. '7 Freiheit der Wissenschaft, p. 32.
»8 AthenUum, i. 167. '^ Einleitung, pp. 305, 317, 397.
^ Athendum, i. 208. « Ibid. ii. 655. '^- Ibid. ii. 676.
Conflicts with Rome. 681
while he holds it to be philosophically true and certain, may continue to believe all Catholic doctrine, and to perform all the spiritual duties of a layman or a priest. For discord cannot exist between the certain results of scientific investigation and the real doctrines of the Church. Both are true, and there is no conflict of truths. But while the teaching of science is dis- tinct and definite, that of the Church is subject to alteration. Theology is at no time absolutely complete, but always liable to be modified, and cannot therefore be made a fixed test of truth.-^ Consequently there is no reason against the union of the Churches. For the liberty of private judgment, which is the formal principle of Protestantism, belongs to Catholics ; and there is no actual Catholic dogma which may not lose all that is objectionable to Protestants by the transforming process of development."^
The errors of Dr. Frohschammer in these passages are not exclusively his own. He has only drawn certain conclusions from premisses which are very commonly received. Nothing is more usual than to confound religious truth with the voice of ecclesiastical authority. Dr. Frohschammer, having fallen into this vulgar mistake, argues that because the authority is fallible the truth must be uncertain. Many Catholics attribute to theo- logical opinions which have prevailed for centuries without re- proach a sacredness nearly approaching that w^hich belongs to articles of faith : Dr. Frohschammer extends to defined dogmas the liability to change which belongs to opinions that yet aw^ait a final and conclusive investigation. Thousands of zealous men are persuaded that a conflict may arise between defined doctrines of the Church and conclusions which are certain according to all the tests of science : Dr. Frohschammer adopts this view, and argues that none of the decisions of the Church are final, and that consequently in such a case they must give way. Lastly, uninstructed men commonly impute to historical and natural science the uncertainty which is inseparable from pure specula- tion: Dr. Frohschammer accepts the equality, but claims for metaphysics the same certainty and independence which those sciences possess.
Having begun his course in company with many who have exactly opposite ends in view. Dr. Frohschammer, in a recent tract on the union of the Churches, entirely separates himself from the Catholic Church in his theory of development. He had received the impulse to his new system from the opposition of those whom he considered the advocates of an excessive uni- formity, and the enemies of progress ; and their contradiction
23 Atheniium, ii. 661.
^ Wiedervereiniyung der Katholiken und Frotestanten, pp. 26, 35.
682 ' Conflicts with Rome,
Las driven him to a point where he entirely sacrifices unity to change. He now affirms that our Lord desired no unity or perfect conformity among His followers, except in morals and charity;-^ that He gave no definite system of doctrine; and that the form which Christian faith may have assumed in a particu- lar age has no validity for all future time, but is subject to con- tinual modification."^ The definitions, he says, which the Church has made from time to time are not to be obstinately adhered to ; and the advancement of religious knowledge is obtained by genius, not by learning, and is not regulated by traditions and fixed rules.'-^ He maintains that not only the form bvit the substance varies; that the belief of one age may be not only extended but abandoned in another ; and that it is Impossible to draw the line which separates immutable dogma from undecided opinions.^^
The causes which drove Dr. Frohschammer into heresy would scarcely have deserved great attention from the mere merit of the man; for he cannot be acquitted of having, in the first instance, exhibited very superficial notions of theology. Their instructiveness consists in the conspicuous example they afford of the eflPect of certain errors which at the present day are com- monly held and rarely contradicted. When he found himself censured unjustly, as he thought, by the Holy See, it should have been enough for him to believe in his conscience that he was in agreement with the true faith of the Church. He would not then have proceeded to consider the whole Church infected with the liability to err from which her rulers are not exempt, or to degrade the fundamental truths of Christianity to the level of mere school opinions. Authority appeared in his eyes to stand for the whole Church ; and therefore. In endeavouring to shield himself from its influence, he abandoned the first principles of the ecclesiastical system. Far from having aided the cause of freedom, his errors have provoked a reaction against it, which must be looked upon with deep anxiety, and of which the first significant symptom remains to be described.
On the 21st of December 1863 the Pope addressed a Brief to the Archbishop of Munich, which was published on the 5th of March. This document^^ explains that the Holy Father had originally been led to suspect the recent congress at Munich of a tendency similar to that of Frohschammer, and had con- sequently viewed it with great distrust ; but that these feelings were removed by the address which was adopted at the meet- ing, and by the report of the Archbishop. And he expresses the
" Wiedervereinigung, pp. 8, 10.
26 p. 15, =7 p. 21. ^ pp. 25, 26.
^ The document is printed in full at the end of this article.
Covjlicts with Rome, 683
consolation he has derived from the principles which prevailed in the assembly, and applauds the design of those by whom it w^as convened. He asks for the opinion of the German prelates, in order to be able to determine whether, in the present cir- cumstances of their Church, it is right that the congress should be renewed.
Besides the censure of the doctrines of Frohschammer, and the approbation given to the acts of the Munich congress, the Brief contains passages of deeper and more general import, not directly touching the action of the German divines, but having an important bearing on the position of this Eeview. The sub- stance of these passages is as follows : — In the present condition of society the supreme authority in the Church is more than ever necessary, and must not surrender in the smallest degree the exclusive direction of ecclesiastical knowledge. An entire obe- dience to the decrees of the Holy See and the Eoman congre- gations cannot be inconsistent w^ith the freedom and progress of science. The disposition to find fault with the scholastic theology, and to dispute the conclusions and the method of its teachers, threatens the authority of the Church, because the Church has not only allowed theology to remain for centuries faithful to their system, but has urgently recommended it as the safest bulwark of the faith, and an efficient weapon against her enemies. Catholic writers are not bound only by those decisions of the infallible Church which regard articles of faith. They must also submit to the theological decisions of the Roman Con- gregations, and to the opinions which are commonly received in the schools. And it is wrong, though not heretical, to reject those decisions or opinions.
In a word, therefore, the Brief affirms that the common opinions and explanations of Catholic divines ought not to yield to the progress of secular science, and that the course of theo- logical knowledge ought to be controlled by the decrees of the Index.
There is no doubt that the letter of this document might be interpreted in a sense consistent with the habitual language of The Home and Foreign Revieiu. On the one hand, the censure is evidently aimed at that exaggerated claim of independence which would deny to the Pope and the Episcopate any right of interfering in literature, and would transfer the whole weight heretofore belonging to the traditions of the schools of theology to the incomplete, and therefore uncertain, conclusions of mo- dern science. On the other hand, the Review has always main- tained, in common with all Catholics, that if the one Church has an organ it is through that organ that she must speak ; that her authority is not limited to the precise sphere of her infallibility;
684 Covflicts with Rome,
and that opinions which she has long tolerated or approved, and has for centuries found compatible with the secular as well as religious knowledge of the age, cannot be lightly supplanted by new hypotheses of scientific men, which have not yet had time to prove their consistency with dogmatic truth. But such a plausible accommodation, even if it were honest or dignified, would only disguise and obscure those ideas which it has been the chief object of the Keview to proclaim. It is therefore not only more respectful to the Holy See, but more serviceable to the principles of the Review itself, and more in accordance with the spirit in which it has been conducted, to interpret the words of the Pope as they were really meant, than to elude their con- sequences by subtle distinctions, and to profess a formal adop- tion of maxims which no man who holds the principles of the Keview can accept in their intended signification.
One of these maxims is that theological and other opinions long held and allov/ed in the Church gather truth from time, and an authority in some sort binding from the implied sanc- tion of the Holy See, so that they cannot be rejected without rashness ; and that the decrees of the Congregation of the Index possess an authority quite independent of the acquirements of the men composing it. This is no new opinion ; it is only expressed on the present occasion with unusual solemnity and distinctness. But one of the essential principles of this Review consists in a clear recognition, first, of the infinite gulf which in theology separates what is of faith from what is not of faith, — revealed dogmas from opinions unconnected with them by logical necessity, and therefore incapable of any thing higher than a natural certainty, — and next, of the practical difference which exists in ecclesiastical discipline between the acts of infallible authority and those which possess no higher sanction than that of canonical legality. That which is not decided with dogmatic infallibility is for the time susceptible only of a scientific determination, which advances with the progress of science, and becomes absolute only where science has attained its final results. On the one hand, this scientific progress is beneficial, and even necessary, to the Church ; on the other, it must inevitably be opposed by the guardians of traditional opinion, to whom, as such, no share in it belongs, and who by their own acts and those of their predecessors are committed to views which it menaces or destroys. The same principle which, in certain conjunctures, imposes the duty of surrendering re- ceived opinions imposes in equal extent, and under like con- ditions, the duty of disregarding the fallible authorities that uphold them.
It is the design of the Holy See not, of course, to deny
I
Conflicts tvith Rome. 685
the distinction between dogma and opinion, upon which this duty is founded, but to reduce tlie practical recognition of it among Catholics to the smallest potfsible limits. A grave ques- tion therefore arises as to the position of a He view founded in great part for the purpose of exemplifying this distinction.^*^ In considering the solution of this question two circumstances must be borne in mind : first, that the antagonism now so forcibly expressed has always been known and acknowledged ; and secondly, that no part of the Brief applies directly to the Review. The Review was as distinctly opposed to the Roman sentiment before the Brief as since ; and it is still as free from censure as before. It was at no time in virtual sympathy with authority on the points in question; and it is not now in formal conflict with authority.
But the definlteness with w^iich the Holy See has pronounced its will, and the fact that it has taken the initiative, seem posi- tively to invite adhesion, and to convey a special warning to all who have expressed opinions contrary to the maxims of tlie Brief. A periodical which not only has done so, but exists in a measure for the purpose of doing so, cannot with propriety refuse to survey the new position in which it is placed by this important act. For the conduct of a Review involves more delicate relations \Yith the government of the Church than the authorship of an isolated book. When opinions which an author defends are rejected at Rome, he either makes his submission, or, if his mind remains unaltered, silently leaves his book to take its chance, and to influence men according to its merits. But such passivity, however right and seemly in the author of a book, is inapplicable to the case of a Review. The periodical iteration of rejected propositions would amount to insult and defiance, and would probably provoke more de- finite measures; and thus the result would be to commit autho- rity yet more irrevocably to an opinion which otherwise might take no deep root, and might yield ultimately to the influence of time. For it is hard to surrender a cause on behalf of which a struggle has been sustained, and spiritual evils have been in- flicted. In an isolated book, the author need discuss no more topics than he likes, and any want of agreement with ecclesi- astical authority may receive so little prominence as to excite
^ The prospectus of the Review contained these words : '* It will abstain from direct theological discussion, as far as external circumstances will allow: and in dealing with those mixed questions into which theology indirectly enters, its aim will be to combine devotion to the Church with discrimination and can- dour in the treatment of her opponents ; to reconcile freedom of enquiry with implicit faith ; and to discountenance what is untenable and unreal, without for- getting the tenderness due to the weak, or the reverence rightly claimed for what is sacred. Submitting without reserve to infallible authority, it will en- courage a habit of manly investigation on subjects of scientific interest."
686 Conflicts with Rome,
no attention. But a continuous Review whicli adopted this kind of reserve would give a negative prominence to the topics it persistently avoided, and by thus keeping before the world the position it occupied would hold out a perpetual invitation to its readers to judge between the Church and itself. What- ever it gained of approbation and assent would be so much lost to the authority and dignity of the Holy See. It could only hope to succeed by trading on the scandal it caused.
But in reality its success could no longer advance the cause of truth. For what is the Holy See in its relation to the masses of Catholics, and where does its strength lie? It is the organ, the mouth, the head, of the Church. Its strength consists in its agreement with the general conviction of the faithful. When it expresses the common knowledge and sense of the age, or of a large majority of Catholics, its position is impregnable. The force it derives from this general support makes direct opposition hopeless, and therefore disedifying, tending only to division, and promoting reaction rather than reform. The influence by which it is to be moved must be directed first on that which gives it strength, and must pervade the members in order that it may reach the head. While the general sentiment of Catholics is unaltered, the course of the Holy See remains unaltered too. As soon as that sentiment is M modified, Home sympathises with the change. The ecclesiastical "J government, based upon the public opinion of the Church, and acting through it, cannot separate itself from the mass of the faithful, and keep pace with the progress of the instructed minority. It follows slowly and warily, and sometimes begins by resisting and denouncing what in the end it thoroughly adopts. Hence a direct controversy with Rome holds out the prospect of great evils, and at best a barren and unprofitable victory. The victory that is fruitful springs from that gradual change in the knowledge, the ideas, and the convictions, of the Catholic body, which, in due time, overcomes the natural reluctance to forsake a beaten path, and by insensible degrees constrains the mouth- piece of tradition to conform itself to the new atmosphere with ■which it is surrounded. The slow, silent, indirect action of public opinion bears the Holy See along, without any demoral- ising conflict or dishonourable capitulation. This action it be- longs essentially to the graver scientific literature to direct; and the enquiry what form that literature should assume at any given moment involves no question which aflects its substance, though it may often involve questions of moral fitness suf- ficiently decisive for a particular occasion.
It was never pretended that The Home and Foreign Review represented the opinions of the majority of Catholics. The
Covjllcts with Home. 687
Holy See has had their support in maintaining a view of the obligations of Catholic literature very diiferent from the one which has been upheld in these pages ; nor could it explicitly abandon that view Avithout taking up a new position in the Church. All that could be hoped for on the other side was silence and forbearance; and for a time they have been con- ceded. But this is the case no longer. The toleration has now been pointedly withdrawn ; and the adversaries of the Roman theory have been challenged with the summons to submit.
If the opinions for wliich submission is claimed were new, or if the opposition now signalised were one of which there had hitherto been any doubt, a question might have arisen as to the limits of the authority of the Holy See over the conscience, and the necessity or possibility of accepting the view which it propounds. But no problem of this kind has in fact presented itself for consideration. The differences which are now pro- claimed have all along been acknowledged to exist; and the Conductors of this Review are unable to yield their assent to the opinions put forward in the Brief.
In these circumstances, there are two courses which it is impossible to take. It would be wrong to abandon principles which have been well considered and are sincerely held, and it would also be wrong to assail the authority which contradicts them. The principles have not ceased to be true, nor the au- thority to be legitimate, because the two are in contradiction. To submit the intellect and conscience without examining the reasonableness and justice of this decree, or to reject the au- thority on the ground of its having been abused, would equally be a sin, on one side against morals, on the other against faith. The conscience cannot be relieved by casting on the adminis- trators of ecclesiastical discipline the whole responsibility of preserving religious truth ; nor can it be emancipated by a vir- tual apostasy. For the Church is neither a despotism in which the convictions of the faithful possess no power of expressing themselves and no means of exercising a legitimate control, nor is it an organised anarchy where the judicial and adminis- trative powers are destitute of that authority which is con- ceded to them in civil society — the authority which commands submission even where it cannot impose a conviction of the righteousness of its acts.
No Catholic can contemplate without alarm the evil that would be caused by a Catholic journal persistently labouring to thwart the published will of the Holy See, and continuously defying its authority. The Conductors of this Review refuse to take upon themselves the responsibility of such a position. And if it were accepted, the Review would represent no section
688 Conflicts with Rome.
of Catholics. But the representative character is as essential to it as the opinions it professes, or the literary resources it commands. There is no lack of periodical publications re- presenting science apart from religion, or religion apart from science. The distinctive feature of The Home and Foreign Review has been that it has attempted to exhibit the two in union ; and the interest which has been attached to its views proceeded from the fact that they were put forward as essen- tially Catholic in proportion to their scientific truth, and as expressing more faithfully than even the voice of authority the genuine spirit of the Church in relation to intellect. Its object has been to elucidate the harmony which exists between reli- gion and the established conclusions of secular knowledge, and to exhibit the real amity and sympathy between the methods of science and the methods employed by the Church. That amity and sympathy the enemies of the Church refuse to admit, and her friends have not learned to understand. Long disowned by a large part of our Episcopate, they are now rejected by the Holy See ; and the issue is vital to a Review which in ceasing to uphold them would surrender the whole reason of its exist- ence.
Warned, therefore, by the language of the Brief, I will not provoke ecclesiastical authority to a more explicit repudiation of doctrines which are necessary to secure its influence upon the advance of modern science. I will not challenge a conflict which would only deceive the world into a belief that religion cannot be harmonised with all that is right and true in tin progress of the present age. But I will sacrifice the existenc( of the Beview to the defence of its principles, in order that may combine the obedience which is due to legitimate eccle- siastical authority with an equally conscientious maintenance of the rightful and necessary liberty of thought. A conjuncture like the present does not perplex the conscience of a Catholic ;J' for his obligation to refrain from wounding the peace of the Church is neither more nor less real than that of professing nothinor beside or afirainst his convictions. If these duties have not been always understood, at least The Home and Foreign Review will not betray them ; and the cause it has imperfectly expounded can be more eflftciently served in future by means which will neither weaken the position of authority nor depend for their influence on its approval.
If, as I have heard, but now am scarcely anxious to believe, there are those, both in the communion of the Church and out of it, who have found comfort in the existence of this Review, and have watched its straight short course with hopeful interest,
Conflicts with Rome. 689
trusting it as a sign that the knowledge deposited in their minds by- study, and transformed by conscience into inviolable convictions, was not only tolerated among Catholics, but might be reasonably held to be of the very essence of their system ; who were willing to accept its principles as a possible solution of the difficulties they saw in Catholicism, and were even prepared to make its fate the touchstone of the real spirit of our hierarchy ; or who deemed that while it lasted it promised them some immunity from the overwhelming pressure of uniformity, some safeguard against resistance to the growth of knowledge and of freedom, and some protection for themselves, since, however weak its influence as an auxiliary, it would, by its position, encounter the first shock, and so divert from others the censures which they apprehended; who have found a welcome encouragement in its confidence, a satisfaction in its sincerity when they shrank from revealing their own thoughts, or a salutary restraint when its moderation failed to satisfy their ardour ; whom, not being Catholics, it has induced to think less hardly of the Church, or, being Catholics, has bound more strongly to her ; — to all these I would say that the principles it has upheld will not die with it, but will find their destined advocates, and triumph in their appointed time. From the beginning of the Church it has been a law of her nature, that the truths which eventually proved themselves the legitimate products of her doctrine have had to make their slow way upwards through a phalanx of hostile habits and traditions, and to be rescued, not only from open enemies, but also from friendly hands that were not worthy to defend them. It is right that in every arduous enterprise some one who stakes no influence on the issue should make the first essay, whilst the true champions, like the Triarii of the Roman legions, are behind, and wait, without wavering, until the crisis calls them forward.
And already it seems to have arrived. All that is being done for ecclesiastical learning by the priesthood of the Con- tinent bears testimony to the truths which are now called in question ; and every work of real science written by a Catholic adds to their force. The example of great writers aids their cause more powerfully than many theoretical discussions. In- deed, Avhcn the principles of the antagonism which divides Catholics have been brought clearly out, the part of theory is accomplished, and most of the work of a Review is done. It remains that the principles which have been made intelligible should be translated into practice, and should pass from the arena of discussion into the ethical code of literature. In that shape their efficacy will be acknowledged, and they will cease to be the object of alarm. Those who have been indignant at
690
Conflicts with Rome.
hearing that their methods are obsolete, and their labours vain, will be taught by experience to recognise in the works of an- other school services to religion more momentous than those which they themselves have aspired to perform ; practice will compel the assent which is denied to theory; and men will learn to value in the fruit what the germ did not reveal to them. Therefore it is to the prospect of that development of Catholic learning which is too powerful to be arrested or repressed that I would direct the thoughts of those who are tempted to yield either to a malignant joy or an unjust de- spondency at the language of the Holy See. If the spirit of The Home and Foreign Revieiu really animates those whose sympathy it enjoyed, neither their principles, nor their con- fidence, nor their hopes, will be shaken by its extinction. It was but a partial and temporary embodiment of an imperishable idea — the faint reflection of a light which still lives and burns in the hearts of the silent thinkers of the Church.
JOHN DALBERG ACTOX.
[ 691 ]
Venerabili Fratn Gregorio ArcMepiscopo Monacensi et Frisingensi
PIVS PP. IX.
Venerabilis Frater, Salutem et Apostollcam Benedictionem. Tuas libenter accepimus Litteras, die 7. proxime elapsi men- sis Octobris datas, ut Nos certiores faceres de Conventu in ista Monacensi civitate proximo mense Septembri a nonnullis Germaniae Theologis doctisque catholicis viris habito de variis arguraentis, quae ad theologicas praesertim ac philosophicas tradendas disciplinas pertinent. Ex Litteris Tibi Nostro jussu scriptis a Venerabili Fratre Matthaeo Archiepiscopo Neocae- sariensi Nostro, et Apostolicae hujus Sedis apud istam Re- giam Aulam JSfuntio vel facile noscere potuisti, Venerabilis Frater, quibus Nos sensibus affecti fuerimus, ubi primum de hoc proposito Conventu nuntium accepimus et postquam agno- vimus, quomodo commemorati Theologi, et viri ad hujusmodi Conventum invitati et congregati fuere. Nihil certe dubi- tare volebamus de laudabili fine, quo hujus Conventus auctores, fautoresque permoti fuere, ut scilicet omnes Catholici viri doc- trina praestantes, collatis consiliis, conjunctisque viribus, ger- manam catholicae Ecclesiae scientiam promoverent, eamque a nefariis, ac perniciosissimis tot adversariorum opinionibus, co- natibusque vindicarent ac defenderent. Sed in hac sublimi Principis Apostolorum Cathedra licet immerentes collocati as- perrimis hisce temporibus, quibus Sacrorum Antistitum auc- toritas, si unquam alias, ad unitatem et integritatem catholicae doctrinae custodiendam, vel maxime est necessaria, et ab omni- bus sarta tecta servari debet, non potuimus non vehementer mirari videntes memorati Conventus invitationem privato no- mine factara et promulgatam, quin uUo modo intercederet impulsus, auctoritas, et missio ecclesiasticae potestatis, ad quam proprio, ac nativo jure unice pertinet advigilare ac dirigere theologicarum praesertim rerum doctrinam. Quae sane res, ut optime noscis, omnino nova, ac prorsus inusitata in Ecclesia est. Atque iccirco voluimus, Te, Venerabilis Frater, noscere banc Nostram fuisse sententiam, ut cum a Te, tum ab aliis Vene- rabilibus Fratribus Sacrorum in Germania Antistitibus probe judicari posset de scopo per Conventus programma enuntiato, si nempe talis esset, ut veram Ecclesiae utilitatem afferret. Eodem autem tempore certi eramus, Te, Venerabilis Frater, pro pastorali Tua soUicitudine ac zelo omnia consilia et studia esse adhibiturum, ne in eodem Conventu tum catholicae fidei ac doctrinae integritas, tum obediential quam omnes cujusque
VOL. IV. z z
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classls et conditionis cathollci homines Ecclesiae auctoritati ac maglsterio praestare omnino debent, vel minimum detrimentum caperent. Ac dissimulare non possumus, non levibus Nos an- gustiis affectos fuisse, quandoquidem verebamur, ne hujusmodi Conventu sine ecclesiastica auctoritate congregate exemplum praeberetur sensim usurpandi aliquid ex jure ecclesiastici regi- minis, et authentic! magisterii, quod divina institutione proprium est Romano Pontifici, et Episcopis in unione et consensione cum ipso S. Petri Successore, atque ita, ecclesiastico ordine pertur- bato, aliquando unitas, et obedientia fidei apud aliquos labefac- taretur. Atque etiam timebamus, ne in ipso Conventu quaedam enunciarentur, ac tenerentur opiniones et placita, quae in vulgus praesertim emissa et catholicae doctrinae puritatem, et debitam subjectionem in periculum ac discrimen vocarent. Sumrao enim animi Nostri dolore record abamur, Venerabilis Frater, hanc Apostolicam Sedem pro gravissimi sui muneris officio debuisse ultimis hisce temporibus censura notare, ac prohibere nonnullorum Germaniae Scriptorum opera, qui cum nescirent decedere ab aliquo principio, seu methodo falsae scientiae, aut hodiernae fallacis philosophiae, praeter voluntatem, uti confidi- mus, inducti fuere ad proferendas ac docendas doctrinas dissen- tientes a vero nonnullorum sanctissimae fidei nostrae dogmatum sensu et interpretatione, quique errores ab Ecclesia jam dam- natos e tenebris excitarunt, et propriam divinae revelationis et fidei indolem et naturam in alienum omnino sensum explica- verunt. Noscebamus etiam, Venerabilis Frater, nonnullos ex catholicis, qui severioribus disciplinis excolendis operam navant, humani ingenii viribus nimium fidentes errorum periculis baud fuisse absterritos, ne in asserenda fallaci, et minime sincera scientiae libertate abriperentur ultra limites, quos praetergredi non sinit obedientia debita erga magisterium Ecclesiae ad totius revelatae veritatis integritatem servandam divinitus institutum. Ex quo evenit, ut hujusmodi catholici misere decepti et iis saepe consentiant, qui contra hujus Apostolicae Sedis, ac Nos- trarum Congregationum decreta declamant, ac blaterant, ea liberum scientiae progressum impedire, et periculo se exponunt sacra ilia frangendi obedientiae vincula, quibus ex Dei volun- tate eidem Apostolicae huic obstringuntur Sedi, quae a Deo ipso veritatis magistra, et vindex fuit constituta. Neque ig- norabamus, in Germania etiam falsam invaluisse opinionem adversus veterem scholam, et adversus doctrinam summorum illorum Doctorum, quos propter admirabilem eorum sapientiam, et vitae sanctitatem universalis veneratur Ecclesia. Qua falsa opinione ipsius Ecclesiae auctoritas in discrimen vocatur, quan- doquidem ipsa Ecclesia non solum per tot contincntia eaecula permisit, ut ex eorumdem Doctorum methodo, et ex principiis
[ 693 ]
communi omnium catliolicarum scliolarum consensu sancitis theologica excoleretur scientia, verum etiam saepissime summis laudibus theologicam eorum doctrinam extulit, illamque veluti fortissimum fidei propugnaculum et formidanda contra suos inimicos arma vehementer commendavit. Haec sane omnia pro gravissimi supremi Nostri Apostolici ministerii munere, ac pro singulari illo amore, quo omnes Germaniae catholicos caris- simani Dominici gregis partem prosequimur, Nostrum solli- citabant et angebant animum tot aliis pressum angustiis, ubi, accepto memorati Conventus nuntio, res supra expositas Tibi significandas curavimus. Postquam vero per brevissimum nun- tium ad Nos relatum fuit, Te, Venerabilis Frater, hujusce Con- ventus auctorum precibus annuentem tribuisse veniam cele- brandi eumdem Conventum, ac sacrum solemni ritu peregisse, et consultationes in eodem Conventu juxta catholicae Ecclesiae doctrinam habitas fuisse, et postquam ipsius Conventus viri per eumdem nuntium Apostolicam Nostram imploraverunt Bene- dictionem, nulla interposita mora, piis illorum votis obsecun- davimus. Summa vero anxietate Tuas expectabamus Litteras, ut a Te, Venerabilis Frater, accuratissime noscere possemus ea omnia, quae ad eumclem Conventum quovis modo possent per- tinere. Nunc autem cum a Te acceperimus, quae scire vel maxime cupiebamus, ea spe nitimur fore, ut hujusmodi nego- tium, quemadmodum asseris, Deo auxiliante, in majorem catho- licae in Germania Ecclesiae utilitatem cedat. Equidem cum omnes ejusdem Conventus viri, veluti scribis, asseruerint, scien- tiarum progressum, et felicem exitum in devitandis ac refu- tandis miserrimae nostrae aetatis erroribus omnino pendere ab intima erga veritates revelatas adhaesione, quas catholica docet Ecclesia, ipsi noverunt, ac professi sunt illam veritatem, quam veri catholici scientiis excolendis et evolvendis dediti semper tenuere, ac tradiderunt. Atque hac veritate innixi potuerunt ipsi sapientes, ac veri catholici viri scientias easdem tuto exco- lere, explanare, easque utiles certasque reddere. Quod quidem obtineri non potest, si humanae rationis lumen finibus circum- scriptum eas quoque veritates investigando, quas propriis viri- bus et facultatibus assequi potest, non veneretur maxime, ut par est, infallibile et increatum Divini intellectus lumen, quod in Christiana revelatione undique mirifice elucet. Quamvis enim naturales illae disciplinae suis propriis ratione cognitis principiis nitantur, catholici tamen earum cultores divinam revelationem veluti rectricem stellam prae oculis habeant oportet, qua prae- lucente sibi a syrtibus et erroribus caveant, ubi in suis investi- gationibus, et commentationibus animadvertant posse se illis adduci, ut saepissime accidit, ad ea proferenda, quae plus mi- nusve adversentur infallibili rerum veritati, quae a Deo reve-
[ 694 ]
latae fuere. Hinc dubltare nolumus, quin ipsius Conventus viri commemoratam veritatem noscentes, ac profitentes uno eodemque tempore plane reiicere ac reprobare voluerint recen- tem illam ac praeposteram philosophandi rationem, quae etiamsi divinam revelationem veluti historicum factum admittat, tamen inefFabiles veritates ab ipsa divina revelatione propositas hu- man ae rationis investigationibus supponit, perinde ac si illae veritates rationi subiectae essent, vel ratio suis viribus et prin- cipiis posset consequi intelligentiam et scientiara omnium su- pernarum sanctissimae fidei nostrae veritatum, et mysteriorum, quae ita supra humanam rationem sunt, ut haec nunquam effici possit idonea ad ilia suis viribus, et ex naturalibus suis principiis intelligenda, aut demonstranda. Eiusdem vero Con- ventus viros debitis prosequimur laudibus, proptereaquod reii- cientes, uti existimamus, falsam inter philosophum et pbilo- sophiam distinctionem, de qua in aliis Nostris Litteris ad Te scriptis loquuti sumus, noverunt, et asseruerunt, omnes catho- licos in doctis suis commentationibus debere ex conscientia dogmaticis infallibilis catholicae Ecclesiae ob'edire decretis. Dum vero debitas illis deferimus laudes, quod professi sint veri- tatem, quae ex catholicae fidei obligatione necessario oritur, persuadere Nobis volumus, noluisse obligationem, qua catholic! Magistri, ac Scriptores omnino adstringuntur, coarctare in iis tantum, quae ab infallibili Ecclesiae iudicio, veluti fidei dogmata ab omnibus credenda proponuntur. Atque etiam Nobis per- suademus, ipsos noluisse declarare, perfectam illam erga re- velatas veritates adhaesionem, quam agnoverunt necessariam omnino esse ad verum scientiarum progressum assequendum, et ad errores confutandos, obtineri posse, si tumtaxat Dogmatibus ab Ecclesia expresse definitis fides, et obsequium adhibeatur. Namque etiamsi ageretur de ilia subiectione, quae fidei divinae actu est praestanda, limitanda tamen non esset ad ea, quae expressis oecumenicorum Conciliorum, aut Romanorum Ponti- ficuni, huiusque Apostolicae Sedis decretis definita sunt, sed ad ea quoque extendenda quae ordinario totius Ecclesiae per orbem dispersae magisterio tamquam divinitus revelata tra- duntur, ideoque universali et constanti consensu a catholicis Theologis ad fidem pertinere retinentur. Sed cum agatur de ilia subiectione, qua ex conscientia ii omnes catholici obstrin- guntur, qui in contemplatrices scientias incumbunt, ut novas suis scriptis Ecclesiae aiFerant utilitates, iccirco eiusdem Con- ventus viri recognoscere debent, sapientibus catholicis baud satis esse, ut praefata Ecclesiae dogmata recipiant ac venerentur, verum etiam opus esse, ut se subiiciant turn decisioniJDus, quae ad doctrinam pertinentes a Pontificiis Congrcgationibus pro- feruntur, turn iis doctrinae capitibus, quae communi et constanti
[ 695 ]
Catholicorum consensu retinentur, ut theologicae veritates et conclusiones ita certae, ut opiniones eisdem cloctrinae capitibus adversae quamquani haereticae dici nequeant, tamen aliam theologicam mereantur censuram. Itaque haud existimamus viros, qui commemorato Monacensi interfuere Conventui, uUo modo potuisse, aut voluisse obstare doctrina nuper expositae, quae ex verae theologiae principiis in Ecclesia retinetur, quin immo ea fiducia sustentamur fore, ut ipsi in severioribus ex- colendis disciplinis velint ad enunciatae doctrinae normam se diligenter conformare. Quae Nostra fiducia praesertim nititur lis Litteris, quas per Te, Venerabilis Prater, Nobis miserunt. Siquidem eisdem Litteris cum summa animi Nostri consolatione ipsi profitentur, sibi in cogendo Conventu mentem nunquam fuisse, vel minimam sibi arrogare auctoritatem, quae ad Eccle- siam omnino pertinet, ac simul testantur, noluisse, eundem dimittere Conventum, quin prim urn declararent summam ob- servantiam, obedientiam, ac filialem pietatem, qua Nos et banc Petri cathedram catholicae unitatis centrum prosequun- tur. Cum igitur hisce sensibus supremam Nostram, et Apos- tolicae huius Sedis potestatem, auctoritatemque ipsi recognos- cant, ac simul intelligant, gravissimum officium Nobis ab ipso Christo Domino commissum regendi, ac. moderandi universam suam Ecclesiam, ac pascendi omnem suum gregem salutaris doctrinae pascuis, et continenter advigilandi, ne sanctissima fides, eiusque doctrina ullum unquam detrimentum patiatur, dubitare non possumus, quin ipsi severioribus disciplinis exco- lendis, tradendis, sanaeque doctrinae tuendae operam navantes uno, eodemque tempore agnoscant, se debere et religiose ex- sequi regulas ab Ecclesia semper servatas, et obedire omnibus decretis, quae circa doctrinam a Suprema Nostra Pontificia auctoritate eduntur. Haec autem omnia Tibi communicamus, ac summopere optamus, ut ea iis omnibus significes viris, qui in memorato Conventu fuere, dum, si opportunum esse censueri- mus, haud omittemus alia Tibi, et Venerabilibus Pratribus Germaniae Sacrorum Antistitibus hac super re significare, post- quam Tuam, et eorumdem Antistitum sententiam intellexeri- mus de huiusmodi Conventuum opportunitate. Demum pas- toralem Tuam soUicitudinem, ac vigilantiam iterum vehementer excitamus, ut una cum aliis Venerabilibus Pratribus Sacrorum in Germania Antistitibus curas omnes, cogitationesque in tuen- dam et propagandam sanam doctrinam assidue conferas. Neque omittas omnibus inculcare, ut prof anas omnes novitates dili- genter devitent, neque ab illis se decipi unquam patiantur, qui falsam scientiae libertatem, eiusque non solum verum profec- tum, sed etiam errores tamquam progressus irapudenter iactant. Atque pari studio et contentione ne desinas omnes hortari, ut
[ 696 ]
maxima cura, et industria in veram christianam et catholicara sapientiam incumbant, atque, uti par est, in summo pretio habeant veros solidosque scientiae progressus, qui, sanctisslma ac divina fide duce et magistra, in catholicis scholis habiti fue- runt, utque theologicas praesertim disciplinas excolant secun- dum principia, et constantes doctrinas, quibus unaniraiter innixi sapientissimi Doctores immortalem sibi nominis laudem, et maximam Ecclesiae, et scientiae utilitatem, ac splendorem pe- pererunt Hoc sane modo catholici viri in scientiis excolendis poterunt, Deo auxiliante, magis in dies quantum homini fas est, noscere, evolvere, et explanare veritatura thesaurum, quas in na- turae et gratiae operibus Deus posuit, ut homo postquam illas rationis et fidei lumine noverit, suamque vitam ad eas sedulo conformaverit, possit in aeternae gloriae claritate summam veritatem, Deum scilicet, sine ullo velamine intueri, Eoque felicissime in aeternum perfrui et gaudere. Hanc autem oc- casionem libentissirao animo amplectimur, ut denuo testemur et confirmemus praecipuam Nostram in Te caritatem. Cuius quoque pignus esse volumus Apostolicam Benedictionem, quam efFuso cordis affectu Tibi ipsi, Venerabilis Frater, et gregi Tuae curae commisso peramanter impertimus.
Datum Komae apud S. Petrum die 21. Decembris Anno 1863.
Pontificatus Nostri Anno Decimoctavo
PIUS PP. IX.
[ 697 ]
CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE.
1. Ueber die Quellen zum Leben des Confucius , namentlich seine sog»
Hausgesprdche (Kta-iu). Von Dr. John Heinr. Plath, Munclien. (Aus den Sitzungsbericliten der k. b. Akademie des Wissen- schaften.)
2. Yu Kiao Li. Les Deux cousineSj Boman chinois. Traduction nou-
velle, accompagnee d*un Commentaire philologique et historique, par Stanislas Julien, Membre de I'lnstitut, Professeur de Langue et de Litterature ckinoise, Commandeur de la Legion d'tlonneur, etc. etc. (Paris : Didier.)
3. Indische Spruche : Sanskrit und Dmtsch, Herausgegeben von Otto
Bohtlingk. Erster Theil. (St. Petersb^lrg.)
4. Dei Tentativi fatti per spiegare le antiche Lingue Italiche e special-
mente V Etrusca. Saggio storico-critico di Pietro Risi, Professore di Lettere Latine et Greche nel R. Liceo di San Remo. (Milano : Francesco Villardi.)
5. An elementary Grammar of the Greek Language. By Dr. Raphael
Klihner. Translated by S. H. Taylor, LL.D. A new edition by Charles W. Bateman, LL.B., sometime Scholar of Trinity College, Dublin. (London : Simpkin and Marshall.)
6. Life of Marcus Tullius Cicero. By William Forsyth, M.A., Q.C.
2 vols. (London : Murray.)
7. Biblical Essays. By Rev. John Kenrick, M.A., F.S.A. (London;
Longmans.)
8. La Chaldee chretienne: etude sur Vhistoire religieuse et politique des
Chaldeens-unis et des Nestoriens. Par Adolphe d'Avril. (Paris : Benjamin Duprat, Challamel.)
9. The Travels of Ludovico di Varthema in Egypt, Syria, Arabia De-
serta and Arabia Felix, in Persia, India, and Ethiopia, a.d. 1503 to 1508. Translated from the original Italian edition of 1510, with a preface, by J. W. Jones, Esq., F.S.A. ; and edited, with notes and an introduction, by G. P. Badger, late Government Chaplain in the Presidency of Bombay. (London : printed for the Hakluyt Society.)
10. ^ Church History of Ireland from its invasion by the English in
1169 to the beginning of the Reformation in 1532. By the Rev. Sylvester Malone. (Dublin: Kelly.)
11. Corpus Beformatorum, Vol. xxix. Joannis Calvini Opera qum
supersunt omnia. Edid.", G. Baum, E. Cunitz, E. Reuss, theologi Argentoratenses. Vol. I. (Brunsvigas: Schwetschke.)
12. Etudes sur VHistoire de VHumanite. Par F. Laurent, Professeur
h. rUniversite de Gand. "Les Guerres de Religion." (Bruxelles: Lacroix, Verboeckhoven et Cie.)
698 Contemporary Literature,
13. Englische Geschichte vomehmlich im sechszehnten und siebzehnten
Jahrhundert. Von Leopold Kanke. Vol, IV. (Berlin : Duncker und Humblot.)
14. Court and Society from Elizaheth to Anne. Edited from the papers
at Kimbolton by the Duke of Manchester, 2 vols. (London : Hurst and Blackett.)
15. Swedenhorg; sa Vie, ses Ecrits^ et sa Doctrine. Par M. Matter, con-
seiller honoraire de I'Universite, ancien inspecteur general des bibliotheques publiques. Deuxieme edition. (i*aris : Didier.)
16. Alexander Hamilton and his Contemporaries; or, tJie Rise of the
American Constitution. By Christopher James Kiethmiiller. (London : Bell and Daldy.)
17. Die Deutschen Hulfstruppenimnordamerikanischen Befreiungshriege,
1776 iis 1783. Von Max von Eelking. Erster Theil. (Hanover: Helwing.)
18. Gothe: ses memoireSf sa vie. Par Henri Eichelot. (Paris : Hetzel.)
19. Corneille, Shakespeare j et Goethe. Etude sur V influence anglo-ger-
manique en France au XIX' Steele. Par William Eeymond. (London : Williams and Norgate.)
20. Kleine historische Schriften von Heinrich von Sylel. (Munchen:
Literarisch-artistische Anstalt.)
21. Histoire politique et litteraire de la Restauration. Par Leon Ver-
dier. (Paris : Hetzel.)
22. Memoir es pour servir ct Vhistoire de mon temps. Par M. Guizot.
Vol. VL (Paris: Michel Levy.)
23. Le Parti liberal, son programme et son avenir. Par Ed. Laboulaye,
de rinstitut. (Paris : Charpentier.)
24. Life of William Hichlin^ Prescott. By George Ticknor. (Boston :
Ticknor and Fields.)
25. The Life and Letters of Washington Irving. By his nephew Pierre
M. Irving. Vol. IV. (London : Bentley.)
26. Mr. Kingsley and Dr. Newman : a Correspondence on the Question
whether Dr. Newmxin teaches tlial Truth is no Virtue? (London: Longman.)
27. " What, then, does Dr. Newman mean?" A reply to a Pamphlet
lately published by Dr. Newman. By the Rev. Charles I^ingsley. (London and Cambridge: Macmillan.)
28. A Plea for ilie Abolition of Tests in the University of Oxford. By
Goldwin Smith. (Oxford : Wheeler and Day.)
29. Pensees et Fragments divei's de Charles Neuhaus, ancien Avoyer de la
republique de Berne. Publics d'apres le manuscrit autographe par les fils de I'auteur. (Bienne : K. F. Steinheil.)
Contemporary Literature, 699
SO. Tales of a Wayside Inn. By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. (Lon- don: Routledge.)
31. My Beautiful Lady. By Thomas Woolner. (London: Macmillan.)
32. Die Cnistaceen des siidlichen Europa : Crustacea Podophthalmia, mit
einer Uehersicht iiber die horizontale Verhreitung sdmmtlicher euro- paischer Arten. Yon Dr. Camil Heller, O. Oe. Professor der Zoo- logie an der kk. Med.-Chir. Josefs-Akademie in Wien, &c. Mit 10 lithografirten Tafeln. (Wien : BraumUller.)
S3. Die frei lelenden Copepodeny mit besonderer Berilclcsichtigung der Fauna Deutschlands, der Nordsee und des Mittelmeeres. Yon Dr. C. Claus, ordentlicliem Professor der Zoologie und Director des zoologisclien Museums an der Universitiit Marburg. Mit 37 Tafeln. (Leipzig : Engelmann.)
34. Ergebnisse meiner Reise nach Habesch im Gefolge seiner Holieit des
regierenden Herzogs von Sachsen-Kohurg-Gotha Ernst II. Yon Dr. A. E. Brehm, Director des zoologisclien Gartens zu Ham- burg. (Hamburg : 0. Meissner.)
35. Memoir e sur le Terrain de Transition des Vosges. Par tie geologique
par J. Koechlin-Schlumberger ; Partie paleontologique par Wm. Ph. Schimper. Forming part of Yol. Y. of Memoires de la Sodete des Sciences Naturelles de Strasbourg. (Paris et Strasbourg : Yeuve Berger-Levrault et Fils.)
36. Geologic et Paleontologie de la Region sud de la Province de Con-
stantine. Par M. H. Coquand, Professeur de Geologic a la Faculte des Sciences de Marseille. (Marseille : Arnaud et Cie, ; Paris : Savy.)
37. Ud)er Synchronismus wid A ntagonismus von vulkanischen Eruptionen
und die Beziehungen derselben zu den Sonnenflechen und erdmag- netischen Variationen. Yon Dr. Emil Kluge, Lehrer an der k. hoheren Gewerbschule zu Chemnitz. Mit einer graphischen Dar- stellung der vulkanischen Eruptionen von 1600-1860. (Leipzig: Engelmann.)
38. Das Cyan und seine anorganischen Verbindungen nebst dem Mellon^
eine Zusammenstellung alter daruber bekannt gewordenen Erfahr- ungen. Yon Dr. Otto Bernhard Kiihn, Prof. d. theor. Chemie a. d. Universitat Leipzig. (Leipzig : A. Abel.)
39. Das MikrosTcop und die mikroskopische Technik : ein Handbuchfiir
Aerzte und Studirende. Yon Dr. Heinrich Frey, Prof, der Medizin in Zurich. Mit 228 Figuren in Holzschnitt, und Preis- verzeichnissen mikroskopischer Firmen. (Leipzig : Engelmann.)
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700 Contemporary Literature,
1. The life of Confucius has never been written, either by his learned countrymen or by Europeans, -with that regard to critical accuracy which is now considered indispensable even in biographies of much less remarkable personages. Dr. Plath of Munich has carefully examined the original authorities in chronological order; and his investigations reduce the amount of reliable information on the life of the great Chi- nese sage to a very small quantity. The genuine writings of Confucius himself contain hardly any thing which throws light upon his biography. Of information derived from his disciples and followers, the book called Lun-iii is the most important soiu^ce. It is a collection of four hun- dred and ninety-seven sayings of Confucius and his disciples. The tenth chapter of this book describes how Confucius lived, how he ate and drank, how he was clothed, &c. And here Dr. Plath says, " man sieht da ganz den chin. Pedanten." Next to the Liin-ili come the memorabiUa of Meng-tseu, who was, however, no immediate disciple of Confucius, but of Tseu-sse, the grandson of Confucius. Far less confidence is due to the information derived from the so-called philosophers (Tseu), which stands apparently on the * same level with the grossly improbable dia- logues handed down on the same authority as having taken place be- tween Yao and Shiin, who lived more than two thousand years before Christ. The dialogues between Confucius and his disciples which are given in the Li-ki are certainly spurious. There was an ancient book called Li-ki which was recommended by Confucius to his son ; but the book which now bears that name is much more recent. The Kia-iu, or House- dialogues of Confucius, are equally apocryphal. They belong, according to Father Gaubil, to the time of the Han dynasty, and represent Chinese ideas ciu-rent after the persecution of letters, not anterior to it. Several learned Jesuits besides Father Gaubil have expressed their disbelief in the authenticity of these dialogues, of which Dr. Plath gives an accurate analysis. The earliest historical account of the life of Confucius is that of Sse-ma-tsien, in his great work the Sse-ki, and the principal authority here followed is the Lun-iii, which is sometimes quoted verbally. The last work described by Dr. Plath is the J-sse, a large work on the an- cient history of China, containing all sorts of information, credible and incredible, about Confucius. On looking back at the results of his enj quiry. Dr. Plath concludes that an accurate chronological biography of Confucius is impossible. Of his youth hardly any thing is known. The most ancient and trustworthy authorities give but few and scattered details of his entire life. There are also great difficulties as to the real nature of his principles. The Chinese of later times have ascribed to him all sorts of unauthenticated doctrines. Many of the dialogues ascribed to him are undoubtedly spurious. Yet it would be unsafe to judge him solely by the contents of his genuine writings and the short sayings found in the Llin-iu, for even these lend a probability to the ritual " responsa," for instance, found in less authentic documents like the Li-ki and the Kia-ili. The best plan, therefore, in writing the bio- graphy of the Chinese sage, is to give all the principal datOy carefully indicating the source of each, and the amount of reliance which can be placed upon it.
Contemporary Literature,
701
2. The Chinese novel Yu Kiao Li was translated into French by- Abel Remusat in 1826, that is, at a time Avhen the passion for what the Romantic school called " la couleur locale" was very strong. Its suc- cess was great, and must be ascribed not only to the peculiarities which recommended it to the taste of the day, such as the painting of habits and modes of thought extremely remote from the European, of which it is full, but to the higher qualities of literary composition which marked it out for translation, — a simple, well- conceived, and ably -developed plot, and the variety and truth of the characters. A completely new trans- lation is now offered to the public by M. Stanislas Julien, who has constantly kept in view the wants of students of the Chinese language. The former translation was a great deal too free to admit of its being used for the explanation of the text. In many places the ideas of the original had utterly disappeared. It could hardly be imagined that the two following translations, for instance, had reference to the same text :
Abel Remusat.
" Croyez en les rapports d'un pere, le jeune homme ira a tout.
Mais au moindre examen, le vide de la tete se montrera."
Stanislas Julien.
**P'ing-kiun adressa une commu- nication secrete a Teng-tou.
Dans le monde, on est oblige de flatter les autres."
Abel Remusat had also suppressed all the historical allusions, of which the novel is full ; and he had in fact utterly misunderstood them. The following is a curious instance. A passage which M. Stanislas Julien thus translates, " Apres avoir vu Siang-jou, la belle Wen-kiun ne craignit pas de passer par dessus les rites ; elle avait bien ses raisons," was rendered by Abel Remusat, " Le prince des lettres, quand deux per- sonnes se conviennent ne defend pas de passer par dessus les rites pour arriver a un heureux resultat." Here the proper names Wen-kiun and Siang-jou have been misunderstood, and translated according to the philological elements of which they are composed, the former by *' prince of letters," and the latter by " quand deux personnes se sont vues et se conviennent." It is clear that a version in which blunders of this kind occur at every step must be considered as obsolete in presence of the requirements of the day. A far more authentic " couleur locale" than that which was admired by the Parisian critics of 1826 will un- doubtedly be found in the translation now given by M. Stanislas Julien, and the learned notes which accompany it. The English reader, if not deterred by occasionally tedious repetitions, will find the story curious and interesting both in its plot and its details. The peculiarly Chinese characteristics (of which the passion of the hero for two young ladies, ter- minating in his marriage with both of them, and the perfect happiness of the three parties, is not the least remarkable) are perhaps hardly less striking than the many details which prove that the Chinese world is not divided from our own by so profound a psychological difference as is sometimes asserted. The following passage is taken from the very first chapter. Three gentlemen are drinking together, and are on the point of displaying their poetical talents. " Mais au moment oii ils allaient tous trois manier le pinceau, soudain les domestiques vinrent
702 Contemporary Literature.
leur annoncer la visite du seigneur Yang, le moniteur imperial. Cette nouvelle fut loin de les charmer; Pe-kongne put s'empecher de gronder les domestiques. 'Imbeciles !' leur dit-il, 'vous saviez que j'etais a boire avec messieurs Ou et Sou; il fallait repondre tout de suite que je n'y etais pas.' * Seigneur,' repondirent-ils, ' nous avons bien dit que vous etiez sorti pour faire des visites. Mais les gens du seigneur Yang nous repliquerent que leur maitre etant alle demander le seigneur Sou dans sa maison, on lui avait appris qu'il etait ici a boire. Voila pourquoi il est venu le chercher ici. D'ailleurs, comme il avait vu de- vant votre porte les chaises et les chevaux de ces deux messieurs, il nous a ete impossible de le renvoyer.' "
3. Two or three years ago the learned editors of the great Sanski'it Lexicon published at St. Petersburg complained of the difficulty which they experienced in the prosecution of their task, in consequence of the fact that some very important texts had not yet been subjected to a satisfactory amount of criticism. Among these texts they specified the proverbs of Bhartrihari, and those in the Panchatantra. In spite of Benfey's labours, the poetical portions of the latter work required a careful examination. A revision of the text of Bhartrihari by one of the editors was promised ; and it was hinted that it might be desirable to publish at the same time a collection of the proverbs of other Indian poets and thinkers.
The handsome volume now published by Dr. Bcihtlingk is the first part of such a collection. It contains, in alphabetical order as far as ^, all the proverbs of Bhartrihari, those in the Panchatantra, Hitopade9a, Vikramacharitra, and Haberlin's anthology. Besides these the Amaru- 9ataka, and poetical passages of a kindred nature, the law-books of Manu and Yajnavalkya, the Mahabharata, Ramayaua, and many other works, have largely contributed to form an anthology of a very remark- able description. When a proverb is found in several books, it is given, as far as possible, in the most ancient form in which it has appeared. In cases where it is not easy to ascertain the original form, two or even more texts of the same proverb are given. The critical apparatus con- tains accurate references to the sources of each passage, and all variants, even of the most trifling kind, are scrupulously registered. A German (and in some cases, where a more learned language seems to be desir- able, a Greek) translation accompanies each proverb.
4. The attempts made to explain the ancient languages of Italy, and particularly the Etruscan, have, it is but too well known, been crowned with little success. The greater part of these attempts were so thoroughly unscientific in their method that an accurate account of them may be considered a waste of labour. Nothing is to be learned from them. They are of the same character as the interpretations of Egyptian hieroglyphical inscriptions which were proposed before the true key to them was discovered. Although little, therefore, can be got out of the book of Professor Kisi about the diffei'ent systems to which he gives learned names, instead of simply calling them rubbish, the loss
Cojitemporary Literature* 703
is not great. We agree with him about the untenableness of those interpretations which he condemns. We differ, however, from him as to the extent of the condemnation which ought to be pronounced. If the Semitic method of interpreting Etruscan be wrong at all, it is wholly and entirely wrong. It cannot be partly true and partly false. It is a mistaken moderation to say, " Non corriamo agli estremi. NeUa incertezza in cui versa questo genere di studi, giova tenersi in un pru- dente riserbo. Nulla 6 piu funesto alia scienza che lo spirito di sistema. Guardiamoci dal negare troppo leggiermente ogni fede alle ardite indu- zioni dello Stickel e dal padre Tarquini, dal rigettare indistintamente
ogni lor congettura ; ma quando il dotto Alemanno quando il
Tarquini," &c., " diploriamo altamente 1' esagerazione e gli abusi a cui sogliono trascorrere anche ingegni elevati, una volta che sieno inca- pocchiti in un' idea qualunque." This is running off on a false scent altogether; and we are therefore not at all surprised to find that a writer who has so little sense of philological science ends his book with a chapter proposing as the real solution of the difficulty a hypothesis which, however plausible to reason and supported by analogies in the his- tory of language, is in the particular case of the Italian language purely a priori, and not justified by the all-important process of verification. The scuola prettamente itcdica, which he patronises, seeks the key to the old Italian languages in the dialects still spoken in the corresponding parts of contemporary Italy. But our author is afraid of exclusiveness here also; and he proposes to apply a sort of eclectic system which should combine the good elements to be found in each of the other systems. It is hardly necessary to say that we have no very sanguine expectations as to the light which is likely to be thrown on the ancient Etruscan or Messapian languages by a comparative dictionary of the existing patois of Italy. That very numerous and important benefits may result to philological science from such a dictionary, if compiled by competent hands, is, however, indisputable.
5. Mr. Bateman's edition of the translation of Dr. Kuhner's Greek Grammar is a really valuable contribution to school literature, not only as being very cheap and portable, but as being carefully compiled and accurately printed. In a duodecimo of 660 pages we have not only all the principal phenomena of the Greek language explained and illus- trated, but we have a delectus, in the shape of progressive examples for translation from and into Greek, a copious series of examination ques- tions, and a Greek-English and English-Greek lexicon (or vocabulary) at the end. And this is an excellent method of teaching Greek from the very first, and one that may save schoolboys years of often unprofitable and always distasteful labour. " The present work," says the editor, " is so arranged that the pupil may at once proceed to translate from Greek into English, and vice versa, after becoming familiar with the con- tents of the introductory sections. With this view, sentences of the most elementary nature are first proposed, including only the simplest forms of the verb, some parts of the verb ei/xi, and a few indeclinable words,— adverbs, prepositions, and conjunctions, — ^to diversify them;
704 Contemporary Literature,
the iiiller consideration of the verb being reserved till afterwards. Thus it will be seen that the present work combines grammar, delectus, and lexicon ; consequently the boy, when he has mastered it, has acquired insensibly a stock of words, while he is, at the same time, enabled to commence the translation of a prose writer (such as Xenophon) with ease to himself, and with much greater accuracy than he would other- ■vvise be capable of."
There is, however, one weak point in this work, though it is com- mon to every Greek grammar that we know of. The inflexions of verbs are complicated by the addition of a considerable number of purely imaginary forms, — that is to say, forms which might have ex- isted, by analogy, but which, as a matter of fact, do not exist, and the use of which, in writing Greek, would wholly alter the character of the ancient language. A great many of these spurious forms are given, and that without the slightest intimation that they are really barbarisms. In fact, there is probably not one verb in the Greek language that has all its forms (in tenses, moods, and persons) in actual use. In page 217 we are indeed told in a note, that " In these tables forms of rare occurrence are put in brackets." And yet on the very same page we have such very questionable words as ccr</>aA.K€tv and e7rc<5f)7yvetv given as genuine; in page 218, 7ri<f)av$ov, TrecfxivOoxrav, i^pav- 6(ov] in page 219, LfxcpKa, Ifxepfx-qvy IjxepovfxaL', in page 220, rertA-Ka, aia-vpKaj (Tvpovpudi. We could put our pen through hundreds of such barbarisms, and we can only hope that they will be eliminated in a future edition. Only those, indeed, who are familiar with the really ancient forms will be particularly struck by their novelty ; but we must say, it is not only giving infinite labour, but doing positive harm, to students to imbue their minds with such erroneous notions of Greek verbs. A few of these we will here add, but only as specimens : ij^XaKevKa, c^AaKcv/cctv, ey\v(f}a, eyXvxjieLv, l/crtKa, IktCk^lv, hrrv)(a., kirrv^uv., w/crtKa, wktlkuv, hpevKaf eij^euKctv, aprjpoKa, ap-qpoKCiv^ r]V(i>pOoov, TreirapwxrqKa, ^ehva(i)7rr)Ka, c^cSixrw- Tn/JKCLv. Can it be shown that any classical writer, or even any of the most debased period, has used these words ? If not, they are pure creations of the fancy ; they are words that " might have existed, — only they don't." That some of these occur in the Septuagint is possible : but if so, they should be marked as peculiar, and indeed, in our opi- nion, omitted from manuals which are designed to teach classical Greek.
We believe, however, on the whole, this Grammar is characterised by correctness and sound views. We might perhaps object to making the two constructions ei tovto eXcyes, rj/xdpTaves av, and ci tovto lAc^as, ^fxapT€<s av, absolutely identical (p. 476). The exact difference it is not easy to give in English; but the former means, " had you been dis- posed to say this, you would have been on the verge of error ;" the other, " had you said this, you would have been in error."
We much doubt — though we believe the distinction is Buttmann's — the propriety of making two separate verbs (p. 163), XP*^> " I prick," and xptw, " I anoint." These meanings seem different, but are probably identical; for the notions oi puncturing and rubbing oil into and through
I
Contemporary Literature. 705
the pores of the skin are correlative. Perhaps the idea of a light quick touch is the primary one, as in xpaiVco and ^^LfxTTTOi.
The full and accurate exposition of the cases and the constructions of the prepositions (p. 357 to 417) deserves all praise. It is quite suf- ficient even for students of a more advanced order, and is strictly philosophical, yet simple in its arrangement.
6. Drumann's shapeless and unreadable book has made it a com- paratively easy task to write the history of the generation that saw the ruin of Roman liberty. Since his work was completed, a powerful and brilliant writer, the only German rival of Macaulay, has gone over the same ground in the spirit of a scholar and an artist. The judgments of both Drumann and Mommsen have been severe on Cicero ; and while the first has drawn up a formidable indictment against his character, the other has depreciated in an almost equal degree his intellectual powers. According to INIommsen, he was not only vain and weak, but insincere, shallow, wanting in energy both of thought and purpose, a journalist, a mere reviewer — " ein Feuilletonist — eine achte journahsten Natur." His eloquence, however, his respectability, his love of civilisa- tion and of freedom, have won the sympathy of many who knew, as well as Mommsen or Drumann, the scientific worthlessness of his phi- losophy, his inability to understand the great writers whom he copied, his inefliciency as a statesman, and the eager selfishness of his private character. His reputation, which must wane in a scientific age, naturally flourished in uncritical and moralising times ; and there have been men who compared him as a philosopher Avith Plato, and as a political thinker with Burke.
Mr. Forsyth's Life of Cicero belongs to the old school ; and he has managed to stand by its opinions without glaring inconsistencies, by avoiding all minute enquiry, and sticking to generalities. He gives no account of Cicero's writings, but passes many judgments which, without it, are irrelevant. The I)e Officiis is " the best manual of ethics be- queathed to us by heathen antiquity." " His standard of morality was as high as it was perhaps possible to elevate it by the mere light of nature." Without some description of his doctrines, there is no test given by which his actions can be fairly judged ; and such sentences as these are as vain as the slashing insults of Mommsen. It would have been a fitting work for a -svriter of Mr. Forsyth's industry and literary abiUty to compare the ethics of Cicero with those of the Socratic Dia- logues, of Aristotle, and of the later Stoics, and to ascertain how far the morality of Christianity was anticipated, and what were definitely the deficiencies of the best practical philosophy of paganism.
7. Mr. Kenrick, the author of Ancient Egypt under the Pliaraohs and Phoenicia, has reprinted three essays, which originally appeared in periodical publications. The first and most elaborate of them is on the much-disputed question as to the relation in which St. Mark's gospel stands to those of St. Matthew and St. Luke. St. Augustine first sug- gested the notion that St. Mark had the appearance of being " ISIatthaei
706 Contemporary Literature,
pedissequus et breviator." Griesbach, in a remarkable dissertation, un- dertook to show that the entire gospel of St. Mark, with the exception of one or two sections, is made up out of passages from the first and third gospels. This view has been maintained by very able writers ; but it has been as strongly opposed by others of equal ability. Mr. Ken- rick's essay originated in the endeavour to form a clear idea of the events of our Lord's crucifixion. He found in the gospel of St. Mark the clue to the perplexing variety in the accounts of the evangelists ; and further enquiry convinced him that this gospel " bears internal evidence of be- ing the oldest of the three which it is now customary to distinguish as the synoptics, and that when they differ, it deserves to be considered as the most authentic record of our Lord's life and teaching.'* The com- parison between the gospels, as conducted by Mr. Kenrick, will, we be- lieve, convince most readers that he is right in vindicating the origin- ality of St. Mark ; and the current of opinion among biblical critics is setting strongly in that direction. But when he goes so far as to call this gospel the " Protevangelium," and to argue that it was so, it is dif- ficult to follow him without getting entangled in questions which it is impossible to decide with certainty one way or the other.
His essay on the gift of tongues is intended to show that the sacred text does not countenance the opinion that those who received the gift were endowed with the power of speaking languages which they had not learned. " The evidence that foreign languages were really spoken" on the day of Pentecost " is contained," he observes, " wholly in the paren- thetical part (vv. 6-11) which relates the conflux of the foreigners, and their remarks on what they heard." And he doubts whether the speech which is attributed to these foreigners can literally have been spoken by those into whose mouths it is put. With reference to the Church of Corinth, he argues that a power so irrationally and capriciously exercised as to call for expostulation on the part of St. Paul could not be really bestowed by special inspiration. He explains the phenomenon by the fact that the Church of Corinth contained, among its members, several who spoke a foreign language, and that, the religious impulse some- times coming upon them so powerfully as to overbear considerations of propriety and sound judgment, they broke forth in prayers or ejacula- tions to which the hearers could not respond, not understanding the lan- guage which was spoken.
The third and last essay, on the question whether St. Paul designated the Athenians as religious or superstitious, is a successful vindication of the Vulgate and Authorised English version of Acts xvii. 22. We should have thought the eflibrt quite superfluous, if the opposite opinions were not still gravely defended in Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible.
8. The author of La Chalde'e cliretienne is not particularly distin- guished by original learning or deep thought ; and he is decidedly defi- cient in humour. The writer of Eastern Churches, in contrasting the habits of Anglican bishops with the austere lives of Nestorian prelates, ironically laments the inhuman regulations which deprive the latter of the enjoyments of beef, mutton, and Lord Mayor's festivities. This
Contemporary Literature, 707
delicate satire is entirely misunderstood by M. d'Avril, who believes that the author he quotes merely speaks " en vrai Anglais ;" and he solemnly remarks : " certainement il est triste que les Anglais ont si peu le sentiment de ce qu'il y a de grand et d'utile dans les austerites reli- gieuses ; mais cette inintelligence a un bon cote, c'est une garantie que les Anglais ne feront jamais de nos Orientaux des protestants." But, though neither witty nor learned, the book contains a good deal of useful information, taken at secondhand, and put together in a very readable shape.
9. Of the private history of Ludovico di Varthema little is known except what may be gathered from his travels. The Biographie Uni- verseUe speaks of him as a gentleman of Bologna and Roman patrician, and adds that " son voyage est un des plus importants pour I'histoire de la geographic^ et pour I'histoire en general." It has nevertheless had its phases of neglect as well as popularity. Within a hundred years after its publication, it passed through ten Italian, three Latin, seven German, and four Spanish editions, besides retranslations or abridgments in French, Dutch, and English. Subsequently it fell into the shade, from which the Hakluyt Society, with laudable zeal, have now rescued it. They have bestowed on the present edition the greatest care, yet not more than the book deserves. It is enriched with copious and valuable notes, in which the statements of Yarthema are confirmed or corrected by the accounts of the most celebrated Oriental travellers down to the present day. Of the truthfulness of his details in general there cannot be a doubt ; and when we consider how many falsehoods and fables he must have heard, and how completely he was dependent on oral testimony, we cannot but wonder at the judgment with which he winnows chaiFfrom grain, and false from true. In passing from one country to another, he steadily pursues his system of observation, with- out many reflections or preconceived theories ; and his style is marked by a delightful simplicity and freshness. It is evident from the dedi- cation of his work to the Duchess of Tagliacosso, that he could have in- dulged with effect in more ornate composition ; but the privations of a long and perilous journey, together with the multitude of things to be narrated, rendered brevity both a necessity and a merit. So far from practising intentionally on the credulity of his readers, he is careful to explode accredited fictions whenever the opportunity occurs. He refutes, for instance, the story, so long current in Christendom, of Mahomet's body being suspended in the air at Medinah. " You must know," he says, " there is no cofTm of iron or steel, nor loadstone, nor any moun- tain within four miles of the city." His adventures are numberless, and he appears never to have been at a loss for an expedient. At Da- mascus he bribed a renegade captain of Mamelukes to admit him into the escort of the pilgrim caravan bound for Mecca; and thus, under the guise of Islamism, he was enabled to see and learn much from which, as a Christian, he would have been shut out. ■ At Mecca a Moorish merchant recognised him ; but Varthema, compelled to admit that he was an Italian, stoutly professed his zeal for the Prophet, and prevailed
VOL. IV S a
708 Contemporary Literature.
on the Moor to hide him in his house till the !Mameluke escort had passed on. At Zida, or, as it is now called, Juddah, the port of Mecca, where none but Mahometans were allowed to live, he lay fourteen days in a corner of the mosque, covered up with his garments and groaning piteously. At Ehada, in Arabia Felix, being imprisoned more than two months with eighteen pounds weight of iron on his feet, he feigned madness to attract the attention of the queen ; and subsequently, at Calicut, he turned physician, and set up for a Mussulman saint with signal success. In the midst of all his craft and violence he used to commend himself to the keeping of God, and ascribe all deliverances to a merciful providence ; while underneath his slip-shod morality he pre- served, no doubt, a certain substratiuu of Christian principle. His Itinerario is one of the most entertaining and eventful that a traveller ever wrote. By the graphic descriptions it gives of the religion and habits of the several peoples of the East three centuries and a half ago, it proves that civilisation has, in proportion, made as much progress in that quarter of the globe as in the West. It is evident, moreover, that in losing somewhat of the barbarous element, Arabia, Persia, India, and Ethiopia have lost much of the romantic also.
10. We lately pointed out some of the blunders from which all the resources of Trinity College library and a life devoted to study failed to preserve Dr. Todd in his book on St, Patrick. It cannot be matter of surprise if a country curate, leading a life of ministerial activity amidst a scattered population of several thousand persons, should not find leisure to write a perfectly faultless work on the ecclesiastical history of Ireland from the twelfth to the sixteenth century ; and it is not without unfeigned admiration for the intellectual elasticity and vigour which such an undertaking displays, that we nevertheless recognise in Mr. Malone's volume on that subject another proof of the vitality of ancient errors, which a little care would at any time have been enough to rectify. Mr. Malone, indeed, is not a very exact writer. He tells us that the Donation of Constantine was proved to be spurious by Baronius in the Critica of Pagi; and he quotes, as " contemporaneous writers," for an event of the year 1156, three historians who died respectively in 1237, in 1259, and in 1328. But his account of the gift of Ireland to Henry II. is full of mistakes, for which the whole responsibility does not fall on him, as they are traditional among writers on that subject. Thus he tells us that the Bull of Adrian IV. was given in the year 1155; that Alexander III. expressly appeals to it in the similar document which he afterwards issued ; and that John of Salisbury cannot have been exces- sively anxious to prop up the claim of Henry, at one period of his life, because, at a very much later period, he recommended that the spiritual sword should be drawn against him for his conduct towards Archbishop Becket. Instead of insisting on these blemishes, it may be worth while to consider more minutely an event over which modern writers have thrown a great obscurity.
The Bull of Adrian must have been issued in the spring of 1156. The Pope came to Benevento in December of the previous year, and
Contemporary Literature, 709
remained there during the whole winter. Here he was visited by John of Salisbury, the secretary of the Primate Theobald, who had been sent on ecclesiastical business to the former Popes, — Eugene and Anas- tasius, — and who now came on a more important mission. John ac- quired an extraordinary influence over the mind of the new Pontiff, who loved to open his conscience to his Saxon countryman, and declared that he preferred him even to his own relations. During the three months they spent together, the affair of Ireland was arranged; and when John of Salisbury started for England he carried with him the famous deed, and the symbol of investiture, for which, with a strange felicity, Adrian had chosen an emerald ring. The document would be drawn up and dated only when the messenger who was to take it was ready to depart ; and as the three months which John of Salisbury relates that he spent at Benevento began only after the Pope's arrival at the end of December, this brings us to Maixh 1156.
Irish patriotism has generally been reluctant to admit that the condition of the Church of Ireland was really known at Eome, or in any degree justified so grave an act; and the accusation made by the Irish princes in the fourteenth century, that Adrian had acted wiglicana affectione, has been admitted even by such writers as Car- dinal Pole and Dollinger. In both respects, however, a careful exami- nation of the facts will vindicate the English Pope. It is not true, as Mr. Malone states, that there was " comparatively little to be corrected" at the Council of Kells in 1152. There was the Gregorian discipline to establish, for which the Holy See had incessantly struggled since the days of Hildebrand, and which St. Malachi first tried to intro- duce after his journey to Rome in 1139. Even when the legate Paparo came to Kells, thirteen years later, the thing remained to be done ; for the decrees regard the abolition of simony, the celibacy of the clergy, and the institution of tithes. We need not cite the annals of the Four Masters to show that constant wars and civil disorders at that time made the introduction of any ecclesiastical reform very difficult. We know that the Irish prelates themselves despaired of it, and represented to the Pope that it could not be accomplished without the intervention of England. Kot once, but repeatedly, they sent warning exhortations to Eome.
" Quantis vitiorum enormitatibus gens Hybernica sit infecta
ex vestrarum serie litterarum nobis innotuit," says Alexander HI. to the archbishops of Ireland.
Long before the days of Adrian it had been customary with the Popes to commit to the successors of Charlemagne the care of religion and the defence of the faith in countries to which the imperial influence extended. But for nearly a century the emperors had been the most dreaded enemies of the Holy See ; and during this long conflict the Nor- mans were the protectors on whom it relied, and to them had passed the most honourable prerogative of the imperial crown. Hildebrand had prepared for the great struggle for the emancipation of the Church by erecting two Norman kingdoms. During his administration of the affairs of the Church Nicholas II. had invested Robert Guiscard with •Calabria and Apulia, and Alexander H. had sent to William of Nor-
710 Contemporary Literature,
mandy a sacred banner for the conquest of England. William continued to be his favourite among the European princes ; and the Normans of Southern Italy gave him a refuge at the hour of his death. Since that time they had founded states in Syria and Armenia, in Sicily and Greece ; and a monk of Monte Cassino, writing in those days, was astounded at the rapid progress of their power, and believed that it was destined to over- shadow the whole earth. Within three years before the election of Adrian IV. the power of the race had received a vast increase, for the marriage of Henry Plantagenet with Elinor of Aquitaine united the western half of France to the crown of England.
The accession of Henry II. delivered England from the tjrranny and misery of an unhappy period ; and the strong hand with which he grasped the reins of government excited great hopes for the future among the clergy. For he was of a generous nature, and fond of the society of educated ecclesiastics. No shadow fell on the commencement of his reign from the vices which darkened its close; and zealous, able churchmen loved him for his virtues to the end. This is the language of William of Newburghj and Peter of Blois, who knew king Henry only in his later years, was persuaded that so good or so great a monarch had not appeared in Christendom since the time of Charlemagne : '' Dili- gebam ipsum, et diligo, et semper diligam ex aiFectu . . . confiden- tissime dico, majoremque partem mundi testem habeo, in hac parte a tempore Caroli, nullum fuisse principem, adeo benignum, prudentem, largum et strenuum" (Epist. 14). There was much to impel Adrian to contribute to exalt an influence so puissant for the good of the Church, when Henry came before him as a suppliant, with all the prestige of youtli, of power not yet abused, of the pacification of England, and of his warm devotion to the Holy See.
The principles of Gregory VII., which hitherto had governed the political action of the Popes, afforded no claim to dispose of Ireland ; and there was no example, even in their dealings with the Normans, which could supply a precedent. The Sicilian monarchy was an ordi- nary feudal dependency of the Church of Rome ; the Norman vassals of the Pope swore to defend his spiritual and his temporal authority when- ever they where summoned, and acknowledged him as their suzerain. The conquest of England, justified by no such claim, led to no similar agreement. Alexander II. ardently desired the success of the expe- dition, and sent a blessing, which materially contributed to it. But he professed to enjoy no political jurisdiction over the Anglo-Saxon realm ; and afterwards, when his successor demanded homage of the Conqueror, it was refused: " Fidelitatem facere," said WiUiam, " nolui nee volo, quia nee ego promisi, nee antecessores meos antecessoribus tuis id fecisse comperio."
In the case of Ireland there was more than in that of England, and less than in that of Apulia. The Pope claimed a positive right to dis- pose of the country ; but he exacted no feudal service or homage in return for it. Gregory VII. was accustomed to support his demands by some documentary evidence of their justice. Where he claimed homage he undertook to prove that it had been done of old ; but where
Contemporary Literature, 711
he had nothing to appeal to he pretended to no sovereignty. He claimed none, for instance, in France ; yet the king of France was, of all princes living in his time, the one who made the worst use of his power. In those cases where his great knowledge of the Papal archives provided him with no positive claims, he never made up for the deficiency by asserting a superior abstract right, independent of those which belonged to him under the feudal system : he never mentioned the Donation of Constantine. Now in Ireland there was less ground than any where for such a dominion. Not only was it beyond the limits of the empire, whose Roman or German sovereigns had conferred so many privileges on the Popes, but it had not even paid such tribute as came from the Anglo-Saxon kingdom, and as had been claimed of France. The right to dispose of the sovereignty of the island could only be sup- ported by stretching the theory of the power of the keys far be- yond the limits which Gregory VII. had obsei'ved. John of Salisbury loosely defends it, on the ground that the Donation of Constantine included dominion over all the islands : " Nam omnes insula, de jure antiquo, ex Donatione Constantini, qui eam fundavit et dotavit, dicuntur ad Eomanam Ecclesiam pertinere." There is no such passage in any kno\vn text of the document ; and the Donation is never referred to by the Popes in the Bulls by which they conferred on Henry the dominion over Ireland.*. Adrian defines his right. in terms which are inconsistent with the language of John of Salisbury, for he simply claims all Christian islands : " Omnes insulas," he writes to the king, " quibus sol justitiae Christus illuxit, et quaj documenta fidei christianaj ceperunt, ad jus B. Petri, et sacrosanctae Romanse Ecclesise (quod tua et nobilitas recognoscit) non est dubium pertinere." This parenthesis may be explained by those words of Henry, in the 136th letter of Peter of Blois, which Lingard has understood in another connection: "Vestrse juris- dictionis est regnum Angliae, et quantum ad feudatorii juris obliga- tionem vobis duntaxat obnoxius teneor et astringor." Alexander IH. yet more pertinently casts aside the authority of the Donation ; for while Constantine is very naturally made in that instrument to restrict his gifts within the boundaries of the empire, — " populum .... im- perio nostro subjacentem," — Alexander distinctly admits that Ireland did not belong to the empire, but aflarms that the Church possesses peculiar rights over islands which she has not in Continental states : *' De regno illo, quod Romani principes, orbis triumphatores, suis tem-
poribus inaccessum, sicut accepimus reliquerint Romana Ec-
clesia aliud jus habet in insula quam in terra magna et continua."
The meaning of these obscure words appears to be that, whereas the Holy See had confirmed and recognised the integrity of certain states, and the rights of certain crowns, in return for services rendered to itself, — as in the cases of Charlemagne and Robert Guiscard, — and by this reciprocity and the sanction of her laws had adopted such states and princes into the commonwealth of Christendom, the islands, like some of the outlying parts of the Continent, had not been included in these compacts, and remained beyond the pale of this political system. It was conceived that fall political rights and independence hardly belonged
712 Contemporary Literature,
to any Christian people, except by virtue of the recognition it obtained from Kome j and that recognition was scarcely bestowed unless it could be made to contribute to the general authority of the Church, and to serve her civilising mission. The Popes desired to establish such an exchange of services that their political resources should be increased by every effort which they made for the dissemination of the faith; and they therefore strove to bring the remoter portions of Christendom within the orbit of the system which they governed, by attaching them as satellites to greater powers, or as direct dependents on themselves. As the area of medieval civilisation spread, assisted by the Empire and by the Frankish chivalry which was set in motion by the Crusades, the West Slavonians, Scandinavia, England, Ireland, Portugal, and several provinces of the Eastern empire, were thus successively brought under the influence of other races, which already formed part of the respublica Christiana, in politics as well as religion. There were other cases, such as Hungary, Poland, and Dalmatia, where the Popes entered, without any mediator, into direct relations with the kings. Nevertheless, Ireland remains the one solitary instance in which the Holy See invoked a right which was purely imaginary, to justify the subjection of an inde- pendent Christian country to a monarch who had neither rights to enforce nor wrongs to avenge.
It is moreover tl;e earliest practical application of a theory which was vaguely foreshadowed in the amplifications of Gregory VIL, and was destined to undergo an extreme development. Although Gregory was scrupulously faithful to the letter of the law, and acted only by means of ideas which all his contemporaries recognised, yet in defend- ing his policy he sometimes used arguments which contained in the germ doctrines very different from those to which he appealed, as a practical statesman, for the groundwork and justification of his policy. These arguments, as stated in various parts of his Epistles (iv. 2, 24; vii. 6; viii. 21), are as follows: Civil government is instituted only for ends which the government of the Church pursues with more ample and efficient means ; for the State is an invention of sinful humanity, whereas the Church is founded by God, and the Pope is, by virtue of his office, infallible in doctrine and saintly in life. Inasmuch as religious men are subject to the Church in their whole lives, those who live in the world cannot be exempt from her control precisely in those matters in which the occasions of sin are most frequent, and its consequences most injurious. The power over evil spirits which is conferred by holy orders must include power over those who yield to their suggestions. If a confessor may judge the conscience of a king, the Pope has a better right to do so ; and if the Church has power over the soul of a king, she must have power over his croA\Ti, which is of lower dignity than his soul. To deny that she can bind and loose in the things of earth as well as heaven is to deny her sacramental power. The authority of the Holy See over secular affairs is as much more absolute than over spiritual as secular affairs are inferior to spiritual; and no arbitrary laws and institutions of man can set limits to a power which can dis- pense from the sacred canons, and from every law whose origin is not
Contemporary Literature, 713
directly from God. It is a far higher prerogative to remove and de- pose patriarclis and bishops than to remove and depose the princes of the earth ; and the Church of Eome may confiscate and distribute at will all human authorities and every earthly possession: " Si potestis in ccelo ligare et solvere, potestis in terra imperia, regna, principatus, ducatus, marchias, comitatus et omnium hominum possessiones pro meritis tollere unicuique et concedere." This was a theory which,, whenever it came to be acted on, would at once supersede all laws, either positive or natural, and give to the Popes that absolute power which was afterwards claimed as an actual right by Pontiffs less cautious than Gregory VIL It was revived in the twelfth century by Hugh of St. Victor, whose words were afterwards used by Boniface VIII., and was countenanced by some expressions of St. Bernard, whose real matured opinion was strongly opposed to it.
The man who made these ideas prevail in the policy of the Church was Adrian's chancellor, Cardinal Roland, an old professor of law, who preferred the absolute doctrines of the schools of Bologna to the feudal ideas of the preceding period. He was the chief of those who relied on the Normans for security, and regarded the imperial claims as a system of usurpations ; — " ex parte illius Kolandi quondam cancellarii per con- spirationem et conjurationem contra ecclesiam Dei et imperium Wil- helmo Siculo astricti," says his rival, Victor IV. Adrian's first impulse on all occasions was to follow the advice of this consummate statesman ; and the two events which cast an appearance of irresolution and incon- stancy on his policy were those on which the resistance of the other Cardinals obliged him to disown the acts of his chancellor, in the peace ■with Naples and the famous scene at Besan9on. Roland was with Adrian at Benevento when John of Salisbury obtained the Bull j and it was doubtless his work. It was dictated by the policy which he was the first to carry into practice, and which was more fully acted upon when, as Alexander lU., he succeeded Adrian on the Papal throne. The Bull of Adrian was inoperative ; and Adrian himself showed no interest in the execution of the enterprise it encouraged. But Alexander had evidently taken pains to master the question fully ; his later Bull is full of the grounds and considerations which induce him to grant it; he recites the information he has obtained ; he quotes his authorities; he writes to the Irish princes requiring them to submit, and to the Irish prelates praising their submission. He does not cite the Bull of his predecessor to support and justify his own ; for he was now more amply informed, and he was conscious that he himself was mainly responsible for Adrian's act. That act holds indeed a high place in history as a sign of the changing times ; for it is founded on principles not before recognised in the Church ; but it had little practical significance, John of Salisbury claims to have obtained it ; but when he fell shortly after into disgrace, in all his letters defending himself against the displeasure of the king, he never thought of pleading the service he had performed in obtaining the gift of Ireland.
Of the three persons concerned, Adrian himself is the least respon- sible. Neither the initiative nor the burden of the decision was his.
714 Contemporary Literature,
From the course of his early life, it is scarcely possible that he can have had the feelings of a fellow-countryman for those in whose behalf he performed the one act from which has sprung all the obloquy that has rested on his name. The time and circumstances of his birth made him an outcast in his native land. His father was a poor ecclesiastic of St. Albans ; and he was born in the pontificate of a Pope who said that the best of the English priesthood were the sons of the clergy. But the time was approaching when the custom that they shoidd follow their fathers' calling, and succeed to their benefices, was broken down by Anselm. The first serious attempt to enforce the Roman discipline touching the celibacy of the clergy in the Anglo-Norman Church was made at. the synod of London in 1102; and from that time it is probable that no one could be ordained sub-deacon who did not live in continence. These statutes, however, hardly did more than regulate the conditions of ordination, without constraining the priests to dismiss their wives. When that step was taken, some resigned their preferment rather than comply; others persisted in defiance of the law until, in 1108, excommunication was made the penalty of disobedience. The birth of Adrian probably preceded the latter of these dates, but not by many years ; for his mother, who afterwards bore a son who was his half-brother, was living when he became Pope. The father retired to the monastery of St. Albans, and left his son in utter destitution. He lived on the alms which he received from the monks, until his father turned him away, bidding him angrily go and work for his livelihood. The youth was resolved that he would not fall beneath the rank of life in which he was bom, and was ashamed, as the son of a clerk, either to work or beg in his own country. He had a sort of hereditary claim to the learning he was too poor to pay for. He therefore went to France, and after much suffering obtained his education in that monastery of Provence of which he became the abbot. He grew unpopular with the monks ; and his countrymen afterwards believed that it was because he was a foreigner: " indignati quod hominem peregrinum levassent super capita sua," says William of Newburgh. This report, the only confirmation of that anglicana affectio he was afterwards accused of, is extremely improbable. The objection might have weighed at the time of his promotion, but otherwise would scarcely arise later on ; and his biographer, his friend and countryman, who could have no motive for suppressing so simple an explanation of the dissensions which opened a career to him in Rome, is silent about it. There is good reason to believe that he had early divested himself of the sympathies of an Englishman, and that he had no national partiality for the Normans. He had received all his education, from the very elements, in foreign schools ; and all his experi- ence of life had been gained in France. That long and early training in the monastery by the Rhone, and the revelation of the new world of knowledge he had received there, must have soon swept away the asso- ciations and ideas of a country in which he had been an outcast, which only survived in the memories of his homeless childhood, the hungry watching by the abbey-gate, and the harsh reproaches of his father. Probably he had never seen a Norman in his youth without a kind of
Cordemporary Literature. 715
awe, as a being of another order and another race, and he never learned to speak their language — " Erat enim vir valde benignus et patiens," says the same biographer, " in Anglica et Latina lingua peritus."
11. Many years ago a collection was commenced imder the title Coi-pus Reformatoi-um, which was to include all the writings of the principal reformers. The editor began with Melanchthon ; but it re- quired eight-and-twenty quarto volumes in double columns to include ail his works. Calvin is to be the next, and one volume has been pub- lished of what promises to be a most valuable edition of his voluminous writings. It is conducted by three professors of Strasburg, one of whom is the learned commentator Eeuss, whilst another, Baum, is a great authority on the history of the Swiss Keformation, and has pub- lished an important work on Beza. They announce that they will give a great number of unpublished letters of Calvin and his correspondents, together with notes, literary introductions, and very ample indexes. The first volume is a good specimen of the care with which this under- taking is commenced, for it contains three editions of Calvin's Institutes, thus enabling us to trace accurately the successive alterations which he made in the original text. The fearless fidelity of the learned editors may be relied on for the more delicate work of editing the private cor- respondence.
12. The ninth volume of the general history of M. Laurent, the notorious Belgian infidel, embraces the epoch of the religious wars in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The period is very attractive to an enemy of all Christian dogma, because it supplies him with two objects of contempt instead of one, and he can distribute pretty impar- tial reproaches on Catholics and Protestants alike. M. Laurent follows the progress of humanity and enlightenment, in other words, the pro- cess by which men divested themselves of religious belief in the mas- sacres, revolts, and persecutions of those days, where it first appears in the feeble rise of tolerant ideas. Intolerance, according to him, is es- sential to Christianity, as it was formed by the Council of Nicea and by St. Augustine, from whom Protestantism inherited it. But, in spite of the conservative and retrogressive purpose of the reformers. Protes- tantism transformed itself into the religion of progress by giving birth to rationalism; and in the Catholic Church an attempt was made by the Jesuits to adapt their faith to the necessities of a sceptical age. This thesis is developed with all the author's extensive reading and his usual knowledge of the best works in modern literature. Sometimes it even happens that his information is not secondhand; and there are some original authorities with which he is evidently familiar. The ardour of his opinions, so different from those which have usually dis- torted history, gives an interest even to his grossest errors. Mr. Buckle, if he had been able to distinguish a good book from a bad one, would have been a tolerable imitation of M. Laurent.
13. Rankehas never shown his talent for extracting new and minute
716 Contem'porary Literature,
information on a familiar subject more remarkably than in the fourth volume of his English History^ which extends from the death of Crom- well to the year 1G74. It is a model of the art of using authorities ; and the author has obtained so much new matter at Paris and Oxford, in the British Museum and the Record Office, that he is entirely free from conventional influences, and presents many new points of view. There could not be a more instructive lesson in historical investigation than carefully to compare the methods used in this volume with those of Macaulay in the following reign. And yet the work has been coldly received among the writer's countrymen, and has not sustained his reputation. His strength does not lie in the history of free communi- ties. He is the historian of courts and statesmen, incomparable at im- ravelling the web of an intrigue, and divining the hidden, changing schemes of the most expert politician ; and he understands the force of convictions, the influence of literature, and the progress of theories ; but he is happier when he has to deal with personal than with pubUc opinions, with individuals than with masses. His miniature-painting preserves with a fidelity amounting to genius the features of royal and illustrious persons ; but he has not the breadth of touch requisite to do justice to great popular and national movements, and to dramas in. wdiich the actors are whole classes and provinces of men. Therefore we feel thatthere is something inadequate, narrow, and unsympathising, in his treatment of the constitutional struggles and of the great political and religious parties, while his intimate knowledge of all the contem- porary history of Europe is a merit not suited to his insular readers. But in all that relates to general politics, as in the Triple Alliance and the character of Clai'endon, the hand of a real master is not to be mistaken.
14. The Duke of Manchester possesses real historical treasures in the archives of Kimbolton ; but it would have been easier to estimate their precise value if he had allowed us to have them without the buck- ram and motley which accompanies them in his Court and Society from ElizaJbeth to Anne. The contents of the volumes are twofold. First there is a history of Queen Catherine of Arragon, founded chiefly on the documents brought to light by Herr Bergenroth from the archives of Simancas, but burdened with the whims of Mr. Hepworth Dixon and the pleasantries of Dr. Doran. Queen Catherine died at Kimbolton ; and the o>vner of the house naturally takes interest in her history. But why he should have made it into the first part of sketches of Court life " from Elizabeth to Anne" is not very intelligible. Why did he not call his volume Court and Society from Henry VIII. to Anne ? In the second part are the Kimbolton papers containing the correspondence of the Montagu family with statesmen and courtiers, beginning with Sir Francis Walsingham and ending with the Duke of Marlborough. Of course they only tell a very small part of the story of each person con- cerned. Mr. Dixon and Dr. Doran have been employed to fill in the outlines, to paint flaming pictures into which these old i'aded relics could be inlayed, to weave new garments on purpose to be patched with these
Contemporary Literature, 717
decaying remnants. I\Iany of the letters are without political interest ; some are important as enabling us to add a few touches to the moral portraits of great actors in our history. There are two from Robert Devereux, the great Earl of Essex, which both enable the duke to institute a curiously exact parallel between his fortunes and those of Shakespeare's Hamlet, and give Mr. Dixon an opportunity to repeat some of those calumnies against Essex which his perverse admiration for Bacon's moral character has obliged him to adopt. It is strange that in this age of monographs and rehabilitations no one has ever patronised Essex and the group that sui'rounded him, who represented all tlie elements of the opposition, — the men of letters in Southampton and Shakespeare, the Catholics in the destined Gunpowder conspira- tors, and the Puritans. Let us only hope that no devil will tempt either Mr. Dixon or Dr. Doran to fill up this void in our literature.
15. M. Matter, in his seventy-third year, has added another to the long list of books which, during nearly half a century, he has been writing on the philosophy or history of religion. Though Protestant, he is not Swedenborgian ; and he comes to the discussion of Sweden- borg's life, writings, and doctrine, unfettered by the prejudices of a partisan. The character of the great Swedish theosophist has, he be- lieves, been sadly misconstrued; and his object is to place the history of that remarkable man — hitherto a conventional fable — in its true light. He conceives that in Swedenborg the supernatural finds its fullest ex- pression ; that he is, in short, the supernatural in presence of the scep- tical criticism of the last century, and also the greatest reconciliation ever effected between the natural and supernatural, the rational and the marvellous.
The title of the work suggests three subjects for consideration. The book carefully traces every stage of Swedenborg's long career ; but it es- tablishes very little that differs from the judgment society has long ago pronounced on the founder of the "New Jerusalem" and the revealer of the " celestial'"' sense of Scripture to men. It labours to exonerate his writ- ings from the charge of mysticism, and maintains that, on the contrary, they are rationalistic. They are really both • the two qualities go hand in hand in easy brotherhood. That Swedenborg's reasoning faculties were always on the alert, is beyond doubt ; but the same may be said of many a spirit-rapper. He argues cleverly ; but his data and postu- lates are often the creatures of his imagination. Before he entered on the career which has made him famous, he wrote many books on natural science ; and the physical knowledge he had acquired during so many years abundantly led his fancy when this world grew too small for him, and he traversed other regions in the solar system. One looks in vain in LI. Matter's entertaining volume for a luminous statement and dis- tinct repudiation of the Swedenborgian doctrines, such as may be found m JNIohler's Symbolism. He is indulgent to vague dogma ; and it pleases him more to enlarge on the moral beauty of Swedenborg's character than to analyse his system or point out his errors.
718 Contemporary Liter ature*
16. Mr. Riethmliller's sensible and interesting volume on Alexander Hamilton, the foremost of American statesmen, will bear to be compared with De Witt's excellent biography of Jefferson, his successful rival. No foreign writer on political affairs is more worthy of the study of Englishmen, for none sustained the principles of our government in circumstances of greater difficulty, or applied them to a condition of society more remote from our own. European writers such as Mon- tesquieu and Burke have been more deeply versed in history, and have enjoyed the resources of a wider induction ; but no philosopher of equal genius ever presided over the formation of a great political society, or watched with equal sagacity the phenomena of its early growth. The wisdom of other men is derived from the long experience of communi- ties developed to their maturity, or already inclining to their decay. No great philosopher held a mirror to the age of Solon, or the Decemvirs, or Charlemagne or Alfred. The Avise and observant Achaian who judged so keenly the character of Rome in its transition from an Italian to a universal dominion, and men like Portalis and Fievee, who saw the re- construction of the French State after the Revolution, are almost the only instances similar to that of Hamilton watching by the cradle of the American polity. All the knowledge of those who, coming in the height of civilisation, taught the diagnosis of disease, has not the peculiar value of that teaching which other men have learned from the conditions under which states have been established.
Scarcely older than Pitt, and dying before him, Hamilton occupies in history a place not less exalted. He distinguished himself as a soldier in the War of Independence, and afterwards practised as a la^vyer at New York. He represented that state in the Convention Avhich formed the American Constitution. Mr. Riethmiiller has not ventured to follow Mr. Curtis into the detailed history of that great Assembly. In this, as in other places, he appears to have made little research beyond the common books which are familiar to Americans. But he errs in representing Hamilton's influence as predominant on this occasion. Hamilton was absent during great part of the deliberations ; his scheme was rejected, as it appears, not unreasonably; and, although no man present equalled him in talent, there were some who exercised a greater power. Nor was he so persuaded as his biographer says that a Re- publican government could alone subsist in America. In all things except the inheritance of political privileges he sought to introduce the forms of the English Constitution ; and his political system, although deficient for a time in the aristocratic element, would have possessed the essentials of monarchy. His advocacy caused the adoption of the compromise of 1789 ; but, though he defended it in immortal writings, he never felt confident of its vitality, and was as conscious of its defects as those who, like Luther Martin, desired its rejection. Time has shoAvn that there was no security against the arbitrary force of the people's will ; and the regulation of the central and the local jurisdiction, the delicate problem of federal government, ultimately failed.
Speculating as to the probable conduct of Hamilton in the present controversy, Mr. Riethmiiller concludes that he would have admitted
I
Contemporary Literature, 719
the right of secession, and would have considered that " a republic maintained by force was no republic at all" (p. 440). A man who can write thus has not understood the political philosophy of the great American. No man rejected more decidedly than Hamilton that theory that the union is a union between separate states, and not a form of national unity, which is always urged by the defenders of the Southern cause. The act of the Southern States would have appeared to him, not a constitutional measure, but a legitimate revolution, crowning that great enterprise in which he bore a part. It would be congenial to his spirit to approve the form of government which the Southern Congress insti- tuted, and to reject, as the very essence of arbitrary revolutionism, the use of questions of social morality to decide problems of political right. But he had too much reverence for law, too great a horror of the mo- mentary action of popular will, to deny that the constitution of a Eepublic is as sacred and as worthy of armed defence as the crown of any king.
17. Several works have lately been published on the lives of Ger- mans who served on the American side in the War of Independence, such as Steuben and Kalb. A volume has now appeared on the Ger- man auxiliaries of England, remembered by the generic name of Hessians, describing the war from a point of view which all parties have neglected, and giving, besides many new details, an original and interesting view of the war itself. The author has used materials of the highest value — the archives of the petty German states, and the journals of many of the officers. There are to be two volumes. The first con- tains a curious account of the origin and character of those treaties by which German princes sold their subjects as soldiers to greater states.
During the wars with Lewis XIY., the Emperor often took into his service the troops of some of the lesser states, and paid their rulers for them. By this arrangement the princes of such states contributed their share to the defence of the Empire, without laying heavy burdens on the country, still suffering from the Thirty Years' War ; and at the same time they made themselves independent of the Estates, by means of the subsidies they received. The practice enriched the sovereign, and relieved the finances of the State. It was natural to argue that what was done for the Emperor might be done for his allies, or for any body who was at war with the national enemy. In 1687 Hessians were sent to serve the Venetians against the Turks, and in the following year they served the States-General against the French. The War of Succession might be considered a national war ; and the same Landgrave gave 20,000 soldiers to England and Holland, while the troops of Gotha were serving the Emperor in the same cause. The military constitution of the Empire was such that for more than a century the standing armies of the lesser States owed nearly all their warlike experience and repute to services performed under a foreign government. In general there was no conscription, and ail the men who went into foreign ser- vice were voluntary recruits ; but for which they could never have been kept to their standard. Wherever it was possilDle to raise the promised contingent from the population of a neighbouring territory, this was
720 Contemporary Literature,
done by the governments, in order to spare their own. The practice "was not unpopular ; nobody thought it immoral or degrading ; officers of high rank and of reputation from former wars were always ready to be sent into foreign service ; and in the great French war it was found that the best soldiers were the Hessians and Brunswickers who had fought in America. The Landgrave of Hesse and the heir to the Duke of Brunswick had married English princesses; and in sending troops against the revolted Americans they deemed that they were acting legitimately in defence of what might belong to the inheritance of their children. The treaty of 1775 with George HI. was the tenth of the kind which had been made by Hesse since the seventeenth century. It is reckoned that the Landgrave received near three millions sterling from England in the course of eight years.
18. M. Richelot's memoirs ofGothe are an illustration of the lasting influence of a man of genius, who seems to seize men's minds here and there, and force them to make themselves apostles of his doctrines and propagandists of his renown. M. Eichelot has been haunted by the great German poet for a quarter of a century. About twenty-five years ago he published his first book about Gothe ; since then he has written a history of the Commercial Reformation in England, a treatise on the German Zollverein, and other works which have given him a high rank among the economists ; but he has never lost sight of his beloved poet, on whom he has been brooding through all his economical studies. The present work is in four volumes, though Gothe's life was not what the French call accentuated. His journeys were all pleasure-trips. His social position was fixed early. He was no actor in, but only a some- what indifferent spectator of, the great drama of the Revolutionary wars. But his interior life makes up for the monotony of his external career. Under the sldlful analysis of M. Richelot his biography reads Hke one of our novels of character where the plot is completely subservient to the development of the man. Gothe's internal developments were so romantic, that when he wrote his memoirs, his memory could give him no test to distinguish the Wahrheit und Diclitung aus meinen Leben — the truth from the poetical fiction which made up his autobiographical re- miniscences.
The first volume comprises the hero's youth up to the publication of Werther. The correspondence of Kestner, published in 1855, enables the writer to rectify many false ideas about that romance. Gothe told Eckermann that it still produced among youths of the proper age as much effect as ever. This does not seem to be the case. The epoch of its appearance was one of sentimentality, and it is only in such periods that it could prove itself so inflammatory a squib as it was. One of its peculiarities is that, whereas romances generally embellish and idealise ordinary life, this one depresses its characters below the ordi- nary level. This extreme realism was one of the causes of its success. The idealised autobiography of the Wahi^heit und Dichtung is tlie chief authority followed in the end of the first and the whole of the second volume, which embraces the period from 1775-1789, comprising the
Contemporary Literature, 721
residence at Weimar and the Italian journey. The third vokime is the one which presents Gothe in the most advantageous light ; it embraces the epoch of the French Revolution and his relations with Schiller. The friendship of the two men was a rare spectacle among persons of their calling. They both had weaknesses enough ; but neither of them was jealous of rivals; and German literature has reaped the double benefit of their emulation and collaboration. The fourth volume perhaps exhibits M. Richelot's talents to the best advantage, though the reader is always so much under the influence of the poet that the merits of the biogra- pher are in danger of being overlooked. Yet the humble labour of clearing dithculties, and putting together detached notices, is one worthy of the more gratitude from its very want of brilliancy. It is just this conscientious work, so rare in a Frenchman, that makes M. Richelot's careful and yet brilUant volumes especially valuable.
19. A Swiss Rationalist, M. Reymond, has disguised imder the names of Gorneille, Shakespeare, and Goethe an agreeable but superficial essay on the action of German literature on France in the nineteenth century. A careful analysis, tracing ideas through several intermediate stages, would show that there is nothing in recent French literature ori- ginal or of native gro^vth except Socialism, which belongs to the social rather than the literary history of France. And the greatest philo- sopher of the Socialists, Pierre Leroux, drew his method from the Ger- mans. But in M. Reymond's volume there is no minute research and no historical method. He has an eye for imitations, but none for intel- lectual influences. M. Cousin, of all French writers the one who owes the greatest literary reputation to the skilful adaptation of German ideas to the forms of French thought, occupies a prominent place in the volume ; but this is due to no critical judgment, but simply to the cir- cumstance that he met the author in the street during a shower of rain, and conversed with him under the same umbrella. It was during the summer of 1860, when Lamoriciere commanded the army of the Pope ; and M. Cousin astonished his companion by pronouncing opinions on the temporal power similar to those of M, Guizot's pamphlet, and of M. Thiers's speech in the Legislative Assembly. " I have renounced ab- stractions, ideas, and principles, especially now that men attack with a poor remnant of the philosophy of the eighteenth century the temporal power of the Pope, that is to say, the independence of the Church, the only ark of salvation of spiritualism, the only barrier that we can oppose at the present day to the invasion of materialism" (p. 72). M. Reymond's idea of religion is that it is a system of moveable dogmas governed by the progress of science and the social requirements of each successive age, whose ethics have always been held by the conscience of men in opposition to all positive religions. MM. Michelet, Yacherot, and Renan are at present the fathers of this accommodating church, the revelation of which consists of nothing but the discoveries of science. Our author, however, seems to be no better endowed with science than with faith.
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20. Professor Heinrich von Sybel is a disciple of Ranke, who has learned the art of critical investigation in the dry accurate school of medieval history, without losing the power of grouping facts according to ideas, or being absorbed in the prosaic minuteness which is some- times a consequence of those antiquarian studies. Like his more famous but scarcely more able master, he is strongest in dealing with the modern world, and with an advanced civilisation; and his aversion for religious controversy draws him to that period which was entirely occupied with political problems — the period of the Revolution. The tone of his mind is essentially modern ; it has little warmth or depth, and little power of sympathy. But in his own chosen sphere, among men like the heroes of Thucydides, and questions such as delighted Tocqueville, as a mere political historian, we know of none we could prefer to him. He has lately collected in a volume a variety of his- torical dissertations, which are apparently chosen with some reference to his position as a leader of the Prussian opposition, since they illustrate most of his political and national opinions. Those on Eugene of Savoy and the rising of Europe against Napoleon are splendid sketches, full of political design, and without any show of research. That on Catherine II. is vitiated by the hasty presumption that there is no ground to doubt the authenticity of her memoirs ; whilst the view of the Second Crusade gives the brief result of very profound studies, which have been partly published in another form. There is an attack on the medieval theory of the state, which was originally published above twelve years ago, and contains in germ those views on the injurious influence of the revival of the empire in Germany by which the author more recently occasioned a very active literary and political controversy, and gained the palm in dexterity and popularity, if not in other respects. Two of the most interesting essays are devoted to De Maistre and Burke, and of these the latter is less tainted with prejudice and in general more satisfactory. It embraces, however, only Burke's policy towards Ire- land, Avith a remarkable account of events subsequent to his death, down to the union. Nothing that Herr von Sybel ever wrote is moroj| fitted to give a high notion of his moral and intellectual qualificationjj for Avriting history ; and nothing more worthy of Burke has yet been written. The essay originally appeared in connection with another, equally good, on Burke's position towards the French Kevolution ; and it is to be regretted that they have not been united in this volume. Pro- bably the author was unwilling to republish matter which has served as the scaffolding to his great work on the revolutionary epoch. But if these two essays on Burke and that on the War of 1813 stood alone, there would be little to qualify our admiration for the noble powers of the author, and we should be tempted to exalt him to a level which the remainder of the volume does not justify us in assigning to him.
21. M. Verdier, the latest of the many recent writers on the Re- storation in France, begins his book with the remark that the period of which he treats has the rare merit of having discussed almost all the elementary questions of public law and the conditions of a free govera-
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mont. The endeavour to reconstruct a monarchical society and a con- stitutional polity after the Kevolution and the Empire was as vast, and tlie problems involved in it as difficult as those of 1789; and a book equal to such a subject would be as full of interest as that of Tocque- ville. So much has been lately written on the period by some of the best historians and most thoughtful politicians of the country, that the labour of drawing up a compendious narrative of the efforts and failures of those fifteen years is less than subjects so attractive generally demand. 31. Verdier's volume is a useful compendium, chiefly based on the radi- cal Vaulabelle. The author is what is called in France a child of '89. For the history of the year 1815 he discards that remarkable book which, under the name of Colonel Charras, is said to contain the views of the illustrious Changarnier on the campaign of Waterloo, and sticks to M. Thiers. He even affirms that Wellington insisted on the prompt execution of Ney. But he i& not a partisan blinded by irritation. He admits that the fall of Napoleon was precipitated by the servile spirit he had maintained in the Senate, and that his credit never stood as high as that of the first royahst ministry, when the finances were ad- ministered by Baron Louis. Later on he does hearty justice to that great liberal statesman De Serre. When he says that Lewis XVIII. took no jiains with the Charte, because he did not know the value of words in a state which is governed by eloquence, he gives, somewhat indistinctly, a real argument for written constitutions. The leading idea of the book is that the heritage of liberal principles left by the Revolution gradually delivered France from the degradation and oppression of 1815, aided by the brilliant literary movement of the time ; and he traces with much truth the steps by which they came to triumph over the royalist reaction.
22, The sixth volume of M. Guizot's Memoirs is dedicated to the early years of his memorable administration. There is the same ela- borate simplicity that betrays art as in the earlier volumes, and the same stern gravity that regards his own career and sentiments as things too solemn for familiar language. The satisfaction he feels at his own character betrays him into what the world would generally consider a piece of false psychology. " I have always carried into public life an optimist disposition, ever ready or resolved to hope for success, which veils over obstacles at the beginning, and afterwards renders disappoint- ment more easy to bear" (p. 7). There is an excellent passage on the moral nature and purpose of the state, against those who treat it as a police organisation for the protection of property. " That would be a very unintelligent and very frivolous power which should content itself with the material and actual order, and should not aspire also to possess the minds and the future. ... It is the dignity, it is the honour of men to become attached to their government only when their ideas are satis- fied at the same time that their interests are assured, and to require to believe that it will last when they shall be no more" (p. 345). It may be partly this disposition to think more of moral than material interests which makes M. Guizot unwilling fairly to consider the great econo-
voL. IV. 3 6
724 Contemporary Literature.
mical motives of the schism between the people and the middle class on which despotism is founded in France. But he understands better than many of his countrymen the perishable nature of every triumphant de- mocracy. It is a volatile essence that can be fixed only in composition. If left to itself, it either dies a violent death at the hands of monarchy, or slides, by the normal process of nature, into aristocracy. M. Guizot nowhere repeats, in this volume, the exposition of his own views which is virtually contained in this Three Generations ; but he describes as follows the theories which it was his business to combat in the years 1840-1848: "The universal right of men to political power; — the universal right of men to social comfort ; — democratic unity and sove- reignty substituted for monarchical unity and sovereignty ; — the rivalry of the people against the middle class succeeding the rivalry between the middle class and the nobility ; — the science of nature and the wor- ship of humanity raised up in the place of religious faith and of the worship of God."
23. M. Laboulaye's book on the liberal party, its programme, and its future, is of solid, dui-able quality, though it was written for an occasional purpose. Its exciting cause was the revival of the liberal spirit in France, as shown by the elections of 1863 ; and it is dis- tinguished by a deep knowledge of national character. The cause of the perpetual alternations of despotism and liberty in France M. La- boulaye finds in the fact that the French in general do not know what real liberty is ; not the individual liberty which each man requires for himself, but that general political medium in which each man lives and moves, as he breathes in the atmosphere. From this idea he proceeds to draw the principles of the liberal party, or that party which " desires neither universal war, nor government by police, nor the repression of opinion, nor the Continental system," but which aims at obtaining from the new empire " what it promised at Bordeaux and other places when it proclaimed itself to be synonymous with peace, the reign of a laborious and peaceful democracy, the coronation of the edifice, the advent of a complete and productive freedom."
The whole work consists in the development of this programme. But the author displays a certain hesitation in the process. He does not seem precisely to fear the government ; nor was he thinking of the authorities when he wrote, " A man is not seditious because he wishes that France should not be inferior, I do not say to England or the United States, but to Switzerland, Belgium, and Holland." He tells us of whom he was thinking when he advises those people whose taste leads them to be liberal, but whose timidity makes them think his pro- gramme too large and too bold, to consider that in matters of liberty, as in matters of religion, it is a first principle to think of others more than of oneself. " We cannot," he says, " make our desires or convictions the measure of all wants and of all beliefs ; our rights only deserve respect when we respect the rights of others. The reforms which I demand have not all the same importance in the eyes of any one reader, but each has its ardent and conscientious advocates ; all depend on the same
Contemporary Literature, 725
principle ; every one is founded on justice, and has a right to be found in a liberal programme. Liberty has this great advantage, that it enables every legitimate ambition to satisfy itself, and thus unites all noble souls. It is a feast, where each guest may find what he likes best." M. Laboulaye has thought it his first duty to reassure these timid people, and to prove to them that he is no radical, and had no wish to destroy any thing. He thinks with Daunon that " the best constitution is that which happens to exist," and that the way to deal with it is to squeeze out of it all it will yield, even though with hard squeezing it does not promise to yield much. There are two kinds of democracy, he sajfs. The first is that *' which obeys and flatters a master, and the next day knocks him down and insults him ; such is the demo- cracy of the Cajsars, the ignorant and revolutionary democracy, the mob-rule of appetites and passions. The other is the Christian demo- cracy, enhghtened and industrious, wherein every individual is taught from his infancy to govern himself, and to respect the rights of others, the law which protects individual rights, and the authority which guards the law. This is the democracy which the liberal party loves ; this it is which it desires to set up."
Such are the principles of the book. For the argument, the writer distinguishes between liberties which exist for themselves, and liberties ■ which are the guarantees of the former class — individual and social liberties and political liberties. He shows how the French system interferes at every turn with individual liberties ; how it often entirely exterminates every vestige of the social liberties — liberty of worship, of instruction, of charity, of association ; how it extinguishes municipal liberties. " To regulate the individual, the family, the association, the municipality, the department, the province, — such is the object of the modern legislator. He knows that the state is a living organism, and that the strength of the body is the sum of the strength of its members. What folly, then, is it to quench the force of a society ! Does the administration inherit any thing from that which it kills ? * With centralisation,' said Lammenais, ' you have apoplexy at the centre and paralysis at the extremities.' No word can be more true. Every statesm.an should have it ever in mind, and never forgot that in politics apoplexy is called revolution."
In the second part the author treats of political liberty, its gua- rantees, the true nature of its constituent elements, of universal suf- frage, popular education, national representation, ministerial respon- sibility, the senate, the right of initiation, justice, equality before the law, the press, and the future of the liberal party. His opinions are those of a group of men who seem destined one day to rule France, if they are moderate enough to secure to others the liberties they demand for themselves. Here is the rock on which French politicians gene- rally make shipwreck. They cannot keep from extremes. They run from unitarian despotism to radical republicanism. It is only in the mean that they can verify their motto, t/nion de Vordre avec la liberie.
24. Mr. Prescott's life has been written by his intimate friend, who
T2G Contemporary Literature,
is also the most accomplished scholar of his country, in a volume which would have been "worthy of a still more illustrious subject. He was one of the most amiable and beloved of men; but there was neither depth in his nature, nor earnestness in his intellect, to give to the nar- rative that sort of interest which belongs to the biographies of his fellow- townsmen, Parker, or Channing, or "Webster. No philosophy and no passion, neither discovery nor adventure, raised his life above the common level. Several times, in his earlier years, the great problem of religion occupied his mind. Mr. Ticknor, who, like him, is a Unitarian, though made of sterner stuff, relates that he more than once examined the ordkiary books on the evidences of Christianity, such as Butler and Paley, with very great care ; that he accepted the historical narrative of the gospels, and acquiesced generally in the moral precepts of Christianity ; but that he heartily rejected its dogmas, without ever giving offensive utterance to his views. On this basis was reared that apparent fair- ness in the treatment of religious questions which is deemed one of Prescott's merits, and which earned for him the praises of the late Arch- bishop Hughes, This placid indifference is very unlike the distributive justice which is demanded of the intelligent historian ; and Prescott's description of the religion of Mexico is enough to prove his inaptitude to understand not merely the quality of religious truth, but the nature and operation of religious ideas.
It follows that his view of history was veiy superficial. His phi- losophy did not rise above the ordinary moralising about the develop- ment of human passion and character. The writers who influenced his method were the French historians of the eighteenth century, and especially Mably. It was his business to construct elegant narratives out of good materials, with taste and in a healthy tone, not to solve difficult problems, enquire deeply into unknown sources, or trace the action and reaction of ideas and events. His biography contains so much information about his studies, that we can follow with perfect ease the formation of his historical ideal and processes. He took no more than a literary interest in his craft. He republished Robertson's Charles V. in order to append a better description of the Emperor's last years ; but the famous Ijitrodicction was, in his judgment, a fair and sufficient sketch of the Middle Ages. His own general knowledge was derived from secondary sources ; and he never knew enough Ger- man to learn from the Germans the principles of critical investigation.
25. There are few men of note who show to greater advantage in private life than Washington Irving ; and the biography which his nephew has now brought to a conclusion draws aside the curtain that hid him from the world, with considerable skill. His playful Immour, quick imagination, and genuine benevolence, made his fireside talk and familiar correspondence sparkle with a sunny ripple. The very name of his residence on the banks of the Hudson was indicative of the man, for in every circumstance of life his thoughts and movements were always on the " sunny-side." Here, at the age of sixty-five, we find him calm and cheerful, with feelings as fresh as in boyhood, and a kind word
Contemporary Literature, 727
for every one he meets. Here, to use Sir Philip Sidney's expression, " he cometh to you "with a tale (ay, and with many a tale) that holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney-corner." To this favourite retreat he brought one day from New York a picture which had strongly touched his religious sensibilities. This was Dupont's en- graving of Ary Scheffer's " Christus Consolator." He had seen it in the window of a German shop, and gazed at it till the tears gathered in his eyes. He thought *' there was nothing superior to it in the world of art." This occun*ed in the autumn of 1848, when he became a member of the Episcopal Church, and he was no doubt more than usually sus- ceptible of the emotions such an engraving was calculated to excite. With anecdotes such as these his Life abounds, and they are all just what we might expect to read of the biographer of Oliver Goldsmith. There are many points of resemblance between these two men, and it would be interesting to compare their respective characters and writings. Washington Irving's nephew is keenly alive to the piquancy of his uncle's style, whether in conversation or composition ; and he never fails to bring it into prominent relief. He introduces us also to a group of distinguished literary men, who clustered round the historian of Colum- bus and Washington, or corresponded with him in his honourable retirement.
26, 27. Though a good cause appeals the more powerfully to our sym- pathies when it comes to us in the garb of weakness, yet weakness, in itself, is not a merit, but a defect. It properly excites in us the feeling of contempt ; and if it claims for itself an immunity from the laws by which wrong-doing is restrained, we can witness the vindication of justice at its expense with a satisfaction untempered by pity. When Mr. Kings- ley, therefore, makes an unprovoked attack on Dr. Newman, and Dr. Newman raises his finger in self-defence, there is no reason why any impartial looker-on should deprecate the necessary result of the con- flict. Clear perception and exact thought work according to their own laws, and cannot help the completeness of the discomfiture they inflict on obtuse and blundering passion. Mr. Kingsley has received no more than his deserts ; but he has become the object of one of the severest personal castigations recorded in literary history. Certainly no one will ever follow in his steps in the hope of " making himself a cheap reputation by smart hits at safe objects ;" and the Corresponde'nce on the Question whether Dr. Newman teaches that Truth is no Virtue ? will preserve a moral portrait of the assailant when men have ceased to be influenced by his crude opinions, or to admire his unscrupulous rhetoric.
The portrait, though it has been sketched by its original, is not a noble or attractive one. Filling a place of high responsibility as a teacher of historical science, Mr. Kingsley, in a popular article in a maga- zine, brings against the whole Roman clergy, of all times and countries, a charge of untruthfulness, which in its sweeping universality is mere non- sense, just as it would be if he brought it against any other considerable body of Christian men. To clench and point this charge, however, he singles out a great name, and declares definitely : * Father Ne^wiuan informs
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us that truth for its own sake need not, and on the whole ought not to, he a virtue with the Roman clergy.' Being thereupon challenged to say when and where the priest he thus accuses has thus accused his brethren, he shrinks from the proof, referring vaguely to a Protestant sermon of 17 pages preached by the Vicar of St. Mary's, and published in 1844:, and more vaguely still to " many passages" in works by Dr. Newman which he abstains altogether from specifying. Having thus shifted the charge from a priest speaking of priests to an individual Protestant speaking of himself only, and having thereby swept away the sole pretext which could be alleged for regarding his mention of Dr. Newman at all as any thing better than a mere pointless impertinence, he proceeds to offer the homage of his " gratitude" to the very man on whose head he has just concentrated this revolting imputation, and to whom he says in the same breath, "I shall be most happy, on your showing me that I have ivrongcd you, to retract my accusation as publicly as I have made it." As this artifice fails, of course, to extricate him from the vice in which Dr. New- man fixes him down to the alternative of proving or retracting his state- ment, he next Avrites a paper for publication, in which he declares, not, what is the fact, that he has made no attempt to prove his statement by citing any words at all, but, what is not the fact, that Dr. Newman has denied that certain given words bear a certain alleged meaning — " his denial of the meaning which I have put upon his words." He surrounds this declaration with a setting of what he understands to be compliments, and sends a copy of the paper to Dr. Newman, apparently in the belief that men value, or at all events accept, expressions of personal esteem from those who withhold the reparation that is due for grave moral offences. Undeceived on this point, he takes back the pseudo-courtesies ; but he still shrinks not only from alleging any definite words as the groundwork of his charge, but even from confessing that he has shrunk from it, and persists in a declaration which, though it withdraws the original charge, founds the withdrawal on a palpable misstatement of fact. At the same time, as though he were doing something which men might be expected to regard as a serious act of reparation, he adheres to the expression of his " hearty regret" at having so far " mistaken" Dr. Newman as to believe that in a sermon published in 1844 he had authoritatively ' informed' the congregation of St. Mary's that truth for its own sake need not, and on the whole ought not to, be a virtue with the Roman clergy. And then, looking back on the whole of his own conduct in the affair, and judging it by the standards which his con- science and his sense of honour supply, he washes his hands before the " British public" — for he has been told that his letters may be printed — and complacently exclaims, " I have done as much as one English gentleman can expect from another."
Perfectly appreciating the demands of the occasion, Dr. Newman had left the aspersion on the Roman clergy to be refuted by the absurd- ity involved in its mere statement, and had only taken up directly the definite charge against himself. In dealing with this, he had scornfully passed over the author of the article, whose name was then unknown to him, as well as the editor of the magazine in which it had appeared,
I
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and had simply brought the matter to the notice of the publishers with whom the magazine was associated. Mr. Kingsley then came forward on his own account; and when the discussion was over, Dr. Newman, not concurring in his view of the obligations of an English gentleman, summed up the results of the controversy, in a second letter to the pub- lishers, and put it into print, with a few " reflections," chiefly by way of analysis. This analysis, being a perfectly fair one, added nothing really to the previous correspondence ; but it pointed the bearings of the case in a manner better fitted to bring them home to Mr. Kingsley's mind. He had not perceived the force that was com]3ressed in his antagonist's letters. " A very moderate answer" is the phrase he uses to describe the first of them, which, though it certainly was not otherwise than perfectly moderate, was yet sufiiciently calculated to make the blood rise to the cheeks of any ordinarily acute and sensitive man to whom it might happen to be addressed; and he even fancied — so he tells us — that the most important word in it was " a mere slip of the pen." But no human skin could be proof against the cuts of the analysis. It was impossible to ignore the keenness of the blade, or the accuracy of the aim, or the force of the strokes. Mr. Kingsley naturally writhed under it ; and, feeling apparently that he could not keep silence without dishonour, he put aside the question whether a man in that position necessarily improves it by speaking, and issued a rejoinder, under the title '• What, then, does Dr. Newman meanf
This pamphlet proceeds on the assumption that, although the author has retracted his charge against Dr. Newman of teaching lying on system, and is therefore precluded from any attempt to prove it, yet he is at liberty to construct and publish exactly the same argument as if he were engaged in that attempt, provided he asserts that his only object in doing so is to explain why he originally made the charge. ]\Iuch might be forgiven to a man smarting under the lash which, how- ever deservedly, has fallen on Mr. Kingsley; but such a theory as this evinces a perversion of the moral sense, which no mere conjuncture of external circumstances can account for — much less excuse. It blunts the astonishment with which we should otherwise follow him through pages that read like the dull ravings of Exeter Hall, only broken now and then by touches of a coarser fanaticism. Such a production lies substantially outside the range of our criticism ; and Mr. Kingsley's friends — who, unless we misinterpret a passage at page 8, have done what they could to keep him silent — will not complain of us if, as far as we are concerned, we leave its main contents to the oblivion which is the happiest fate they can find. To justify such a forbearance, however, we must enable our other readers to judge of the character of Mr. Kingsley's reasoning, by simply putting before them one of his arguments. We choose the first of them, not because it difiers at all in point of soundness or honesty from the mass of those which follow it, but merely because it is the first. The sermon, he says, to which he referred, and which was preached by Mr. Newman, as Vicar of St. Mary's, and published in 184-i, was not a Protestant but a " Eomish" one. And then he proceeds to prove it : In another sermon published in the same volume Mr.
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Newman asks whether monks and nuns are not '' Christians after the very pattern given ns in Scripture ;" and in the sermon itself he says, " What, for instance, though we grant that sacramental confession and the celibacy of the clergy do tend to consolidate the body politic in the relation of rulers and subjects, or, in other words, to aggrandise the priesthood? for how can the Church be one body Avithout such re- lation ? " Well ? says the reader, impatient for the proof. But there is no more. That is the proof. So that Mr. Kingsley's final position on the matter is this, — that any man who asks whether monks and nuns are not Bible Christians, whether sacramental confession and clerical celibacy may not be in accordance with the will of God though they tend to consolidate the ecclesiastical polity, and whether the Church could be one body without the relation of rulers and subjects, is, eo nomine^ *•' Eomish" in such a sense that he is in a position to give authoritative * information' about the ethical system of the Roman clergy.
No one supposes that Dr. Newman's reputation would be likely to suffer from any attack Mr. Kingsley might make on it; but the morality of literature would suffer if popular declaimers were never brought to book, and taught by experience to fear that critical exactness which nature and habit have not disposed them to cultivate. There is no level of nonsense or calumny to which a writer may not descend when he starts from a merely subjective idea of truth, not labouring to grasp the object of his apprehension as it exists in itself, and convey it simply from the world of fact to the consciousness of his readers, unchanged by its passage through his own mind, but content to view it dimly through the haze of prejudice and passion, and careful only to impress upon his canvas the precise distortion that has charmed his fancy. " It is not more than an hyperbole to say that, in certain cases, a lie is the nearest approach to truth ;" and it is no hyperbole at all to say that there is a certain kind of truth which has some of the worst features of a lie.
28. Mr. Goldwin's Smith's Plea for the Abolition of Tests is an elo- quent appeal, but as an argument implies so many preliminary conces- sions that it will probably only convince those who are convinced already. Indeed, it hardly appeals to any one who does not weigh the comparative value of different principles in the same scales as the author. To understand what these scales are, we must first remember that he is a theosophist ; that is, he believes in the sufficiency of the knowing faculties of man to apprehend and comprehend God, and he treats as promulgators of universal scepticism and despair of truth those who, like Mr. Mansel, " prove that men" [of their own reason, researcli, and sentiment] " cannot know God, and, by necessary implication, that God cannot make Himself known to man" (p. 94). The meaning of this is, that he holds the revelation given us to be internal, not exteraal. Hence, when he admits (p. %S), " not but that there was a faith which was committed to the Church by its Founder, to be simply held for ever, and which those who sold the spiritual independence of the Church for State endowments , . . . most miserably betrayed," lie cannot mean
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any formulary of faith, — not even the Apostles' Creed, ^vhich, though a " summary of faith," could not have been a " test" to serve the purposes of "dogmatism and exclusiveness" (p. 22). He must therefore hold that all tests of faith conceived in verbal formularies are against faith. And that this is his fundamental conviction — the point on which he re;illy though uuconfessedly takes his stand, and argues as if from an axiom known to all who are worth reasoning with — is clear to any one who reads his book carefully.
For if he had admitted that the Apostles' Creed had been the primi- tive test of orthodoxy, then, with his strong assertion of the principle of development (p. 88), he must also have admitted that this test would gradually accumulate around it fresh articles of a similar kind, expla- natory of the original articles in the terminology of a new philosophy, as in fact it has done. But he utterly rejects these developed tests, on the ground that they deal with doctrine which no one can understand, and which, therefore, no controversy can settle (p. 82). This would be no argument with reasoners who hold that revelation, like an algebraical formula, contains both known and unknown quantities, and that, though we may not understand the exact value of x, the process of summing may lead to some knowledge of its proportion to the known quantities, and perhaps to an approximate estimate of the unknown. But it is a valid argument with one who holds the human mind to be of itself suffi- cient to apprehend and comprehend God. "If there is a God, and if His voice speaking in our nature does not mock us, we shall be led to
the truth only by free, patient, and careful enquiry, carried on
with the requisite knowledee, and with a single-hearted love of truth" (1). 90).
In the case of a man thus transparent, one cannot say it would have been more honest, but it would have shown a truer appreciation of his situation, if he had confessed at once that all religious tests were in his opinion essentially irreligious, and had then gone about to prove this great point. But he prefers to take a wider circuit, and elaborately to miss the fundamental argument. He talks about the existing tests — about the immorality of imposing such a mass of controversial decisions on young minds; of imposing at all articles some of which contain mani- fest and proved falsehoods, and most of which are doubtful ; and of giving material rewards to those who accept them, and punishing those who refuse them. He dwells on the futility of the test for the objects sought in imposing it, the want of right in the imposing power, the casuistical expedients for evading the test familiar to the party most zealous in enforcing and perpetuating it, the penal Avay in which it is applied, the tyranny and oppression of conscience which it involves, and Hnally, the entire distinction between abolishing tests and altering terms of spiritual communion. " This," he says, " is the answer to those who are disposed to confront the advocates of political or academical eman- cipation with charges of laxity in doctrine or indifference to religious truth. It is not proposed to alter the articles, or to relax in any way the canon of orthodox doctrine required by the Church" (21). On the contrary, he says, the spiritual strictness of a Church is rather in inverse
732 Contemporary Literature.
than in direct proportion to the stringency of its political tests (24) ; as if he would permit good Anglicans to increase the number of their Articles, provided they would only do away with them as political and academical tests. This is hardly straightforward, if, as we think evi- dent, his real wish is to do away even with the Athanasian Creed. He cannot expect his opponents to divide his demands into two parts, and to let him make the first a stepping-stone to the second, which he pro- visionally disclaims.
The second part of his pamphlet discusses the propriety of openiug the universities to the Dissenters. Here he owns that he takes not u churchman's but a statesman's view of the question. He argues: 1. That it is within the statesman's province ; that the exclusiveness of the universities was a consequence of the view that religious unity was necessary to national unity ; that this view is exploded, and therefore that there is now the same reason of state for opening the universities as there was in 1570 for closing them. 2. That the universities are historically and of right lay, not ecclesiastical, institutions, and that the present ascendancy of the clerical element is due to mere accident. And 3. That even if they were the property of the national Church, the property of the national Church is the property of the nation, and the nation owes it to the Nonconformists to give them the opportunity of obtaining its highest culture. Then several presumed inconveniences of the admixture of the orthodox and the heterodox are discussed, and the excellent eiFects of the association of men of different religions is shown. So far from promoting religious indifference, the disputes of earnest men, he thinks, are a proof to all bystanders that both the con- tending parties hold truth to be a matter of great importance. But the great benefit he sees is the fact that " Christian morality, the uniting element, is brought by degrees into the foreground, and dogma, the dividing element, is by degrees thrown into the background, and may, in the end, pass practically out of view" (p. 83). He would even open the faculty of theology to Nonconformists, in order thereby to substitute the investigating for the dogmatic method of teaching and studying the science.
The pamphlet ends with a censure on the sceptical liberalism of the present Government, and a warning to the growing Conservative reac- tion that its time will be short, that it is merely a back-water — an eddy in the currents — and that it must soon be overwhelmed when once the nation is roused from its present apathy to grapple seriously with any of the great questions Avhich are floating in the social intelligence.
As a violent opponent of dogmatism and sacerdotalism, Mr. Gold win Smith is of course filled with a great contempt for Papists ; and he con- ceives (p. 56) that those of us who best understand the interests of our Church will not desire Oxford to be opened to Catholic students by the abolition of the present tests. Whatever may be the truth or falsehood of his conclusion in itself, it is a mistake to suppose that those best understand Catholic interests who make every Catholic dogma into a principle applicable to all facts bearing any analogy to that of which the dogma speaks. Because an infallible authority may institute a test of
ConiempGrary Literature, To3
orthodoxy, it docs not follow that any other authority may do the same. Because certain truths may be imposed on the conscience, it does not follow that uncertain opinions may be so imposed. Because infallible dogmatism is unassailable by right reason, it does not follow that fallible dogmatism has any reasonable foundation at all. In old days the doctrine of the sacraments was extended by analogy to all kinds of natural things. Because words had power in the Eucharist, it was considered congruous to believe that words and spells had power also to direct the operations of nature. Because an external application wrought an inward change in baptism, it was held that all kinds of charms might produce analogous results. The same fallacy of generalis- ation which once almost identified sacraments with magical ceremonies, and which would now lead the orthodox believer to make common cause with the believer in any dogma whatever, in order to show that belief of any thing is better than doubt or disbelief, leads to the opinion that because theological truth is the highest of all truth therefore theology is the mother and mistress of all sciences ; that because the clergy have the care of our spiritual life, therefore the direction of our political, social, domestic, and literary life belongs to them. Rather, he best understands Catholic interests who would separate both science and politics from all respect whatever for those interests, would allow science to seek for truth, and politics to seek for justice, without any bias Avhatever towards the interests, whether of belief or unbelief, and then would bring the Catholic faith face to face with this unbiassed science and these unbiassed politics. So far as this implies a mixed university, so far is that mixture a benefit for the truth. But certainly no Catholic will ever be attracted to mixed education on the ground that it brings its pupils to think slightingly of dogma.
29. The peculiarity of the rensees et Fragments divers of M. Neu- haus is that they are thoughts upon the thoughts of other writers. Throughout six or seven hundred pages we have a succession of simple airs, with variations more or less elaborate. Sometimes the text is long, and the sermon complete in a line. Sometimes a proposition has to be combated; as that, ibr example, of Bossuet, that God has no need of His own great acts, on which M. Neuhaus maintains that He has ; or of Dupuis, who makes God the motive power of the universe, on which M. Neuhaus contends that nature is not intelligent, and cannot commune with or comfort the soul. About two hundred and sixty authors are cited and commented on in the way of either exegesis or refutation, and from some of them quotations are made ten or twenty times. Those whose names recur most frequently are Bossuet, Cha- teaubriand, Descartes, Rousseau, Kant^ Hegel, Leibniz, Pascal, and Spinoza ; and the subjects oftenest discussed are metaphysical. The reflections vary a good deal in merit. At one moment they are tru- isms, at another senile platitudes, and at another absolutely false; as, for instance, when we are told in a terse apothegm, that " no man can be responsible in any degree for the justice of his opinions." The book contains no little straw-splitting, plenty of playing at metaphysics; and
734 Coutemj^orarf/ Lilcraturc.
much of the unintentional impietj of misbelief ; and it discards the mys- teries of revealed religion as scarcely worthy the consideration of rational beings. It is to be regretted that M. Neuhaus, in collecting and enlarg- ing on such passages as struck him most in the writings of others, should himself have afforded so little instruction or pleasure. Many, indeed, of his reflections on matters level with the capacity of all lite- rary men are just and even beautiful ; but none of them are very striking. Originality is totally wanting ; the thoughts are seldom pro- found, though they aim at being so ; and the feeling evinced is by no means of the deepest kind. The author has no system to work out ; he is fond of battling with giants, and in contradicting them often contra- dicts himself. The volume is posthumous. Fourteen years have elapsed since M. Neuhaus's death ; and posterity would hardly have been a loser if his manuscript had been allowed to rest quietly beside him in the tomb.
30. Mr. Longfellow has given us a volume of poetry the plan of which inevitably reminds us of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. Let all thought of such a comparison be at once dismissed from our minds, for the modern poem will not bear it. In regard to plot, it is naught ; but if its separate parts be examined, we shall find real beauties. Mr. Longfellow judged unwisely when he decided to connect the poems con- tained in this volume by the awkward and unnatural machinery of the prelude. A wayside inn in the United States ! what sort of guests or travellers would one expect to find united in such a place in the year 1863 ? Chaucer brings together at the " Tabard" the very sort of per- sons whom, granted the common design of a pilgrimage, one would have been likely to meet there in the fourteenth century. If the same fidelity to nature and fact had ruled over the composition of the work before us, the story-tellers at the wayside inn would have been — whom shall Ave say ? Perhaps a war-divine like Mr. Beecher, a soldier from the army that took Vicksburg, a Yankee projector, a young English nobleman, a Confederate spy, a special correspondent, and so on. Instead of these we are introduced to a student with a passion for medieval literature, a young Sicilian well acquainted with Boccaccio, a Spanish Jew, a New- England theologian, a poet, and a Norwegian musician. Why these various persons all betake themselves to the wayside inn on a given night we are not told ; nor why they should be successively seized with a desire of story-telling ; nor why, the stories being told, all should quietly take their departure, nobody knows whither. No worse-planned poetical machinery ever disfigured a graceful work by a clumsy scaffolding.
The tales themselves differ much in merit. The first in order, '* Paul Kevere's Kide," recounting an incident in the War of Independ- ence, is a slight and poor production. The student's tale, " The Falcon of Ser Federigo," is a metrical version of one of the tales in the Deca- meron ; and when we say that the ineffal)le charm of style which belongs to the original has not evaporated in Mr. Longfellow's version, we give it no slight praise. The Spanish Jew relates a wild legend, more extrava- gant than interesting, found in the Tahnud. In the Sicilian's tale, "King
Contemporari) Literature. T35
llobert of Sicily," we come upon a very old friend indeed. Perhaj^s Ellis's romances are not so popular a work in America as in England. For ourselves, we confess to a preference for the form which this grand old legend wears in the book which Ave pored over in boyhood, rather than the elaborate and paraphrastic rendering of Mr. Longfellow. The contrasts in Ellis are more effective, the degradation of Robert more terrible, his wild bursts of wrath more naturally given, even his final penitence more skilfully evolved out of the antecedent circumstances, than in the modern version.
The Norwegian minstrel's tale, " The Saga of King Olaf," seems to be a free rendering of the saga in the Heimskringla relating the career of that astounding missionary. Olaf was king of Norway in the tenth century; and, having embraced Christianity, he became exceedingly earnest in spreading among his half-savage countrymen the light of pure religion. To this end he adopted the means which seemed to him most efiicacious. He collected all the pagan "warlocks" or wizards, and drowned them (canto v.) ; he summoned his people together to a great Thing at Drontheim, set before them the emptiness of their old religion, hewed down the images of Odin and Thor, and forced the whole multi- tude, on pain of being massacred by his Berserks, to submit to imme- diate baptism (canto vii.). He attempted a similar " conversion" of the Icelanders through the agency of Thangbrand, a violent and disreputable priest ;
'' Every where Would drink and swear Swaggering Thangbrand, Olaf's priest."
Thangbrand, it may be remarked in passing, is depicted in far lighter colours in the " Story of Burnt Njal," a contemporary authority. With all this zeal for the propagation of the faith, Olaf never loses the wild and fitful temper of the Norse viking : when moved by resentment or some mad caprice, he is ready at any moment to rush into war with a neighbour king ; and in a naval expedition of this kind, in which he visits the southern shores of the Baltic, he is met by a more powerful fleet, which has on board three hostile kings, and loses his life in the battle which ensues.
There are many fine things in this version of the old saga. The conversion of the Berserks, Olaf's bodyguard (canto xii.), is finely and broadly conceived, and narrated with suitable fire. In the next canto but one we have a heart-stirring and boisterous picture — words and rhythm both harmonising with and fitly clothing the thoughts — of the roaring blades w^ho composed the crew of the Long Serpent, king Olaf's strongest line- of- battle ship, and rolled in true man-of-war's-man fashion down Drontheim streets. But the poem draws to a conclusion, and the reader wonders " Will , the author be so misguided as to draw a set moral?" Lo! he falls into the snare; he cannot resist the tempta- tion to improve the occasion. When will poets remember Tennyson's question :
" And is there any moral shut Within the bosom of the rose r"
736 Contemporary Literature,
In the last canto " the voice of St. John'' the Evangelist (iiec Dem intersit, &c.) is heard by Astrid, Olaf's mother, declaring what is the true spirit of Christianity. Force is the wrong weapon ; patience and humility effect the only permanent conquests ; " cross against corselet, love against hatred," and so on. It is a pity that the poet cannot enforce his moral a little nearer home ; or is " The Saga of King Olaf" really to be taken as a veiled satire upon the furious paganism of those aspira- tions which at the present day possess the advanced Christians of Mas- sachusetts ?
If the first story-teller was something of a bungler, the last, profiting, we may suppose, by the experience he has gained as a listener, winds up the evening with a tale which is a complete success. " The Birds of Killing worth" is really a charming poem. Flashes of a quiet humour break forth at every turn ; the shafts of a not unkindly satire fly in all directions. The stupid old farmers, the Calvinistic minister, the deacon bursting with self-importance, the schoolmaster who unites culture with common sense, all met in conclave to debate whether the birds shall be massacred or not for the damage they do in the corn-fields, and deciding wronghj (as the great vox populi sometimes will, does our author gently intimate ?), form the most piquant and original picture in the book. The following stanza is given merely as an illustration of the characteristics above mentioned, and of the general tone of the poem :
" And a town-meeting was convened straightway
To set a price upon the guilty heads Of these marauders, who, in lieu of pay,
Levied black-mail upon the garden-beds And corn-fields, and beheld without dismay
The awful scarecrow, with his fluttering shreds ; The skeleton that waited at their feast, Whereby their sinful pleasure was increased" (j). 209).
Of the few detached poems which occupy the last pages of the volume, two, " The Children's Hour" and " Weariness," have been much noticed and praised — perhaps as much as they deserve.
31. My Beautiful Lady belongs to the class of subjective poems, except so far as the minute and accurate presentments of natural objects in which it abounds may give it an objective character. This word-painting has, without doubt, the grand merit of truth, and so far is preferable to the conventional poetic language of the last century, with its " towering hills" and " purling rills." Yet it is full time that the approbation given to this style of writing should be reduced Avithin the limits of reason, and measured by the real requirements of art. Word-painting may be described as, or rather involves, the intellectual analysis and interpretation in words of the sensible impressions made upon us by external objects, such as trees, sunbeams, dress, and the like. A dreamy, indolent, vaguely-longing temperament denotes the cast of mind to which such analysis will be most natural and easy ; but as there is really no great difliculty in it, poets whose genius is of the secondary order resort to it voluntarily, in order to please their readers. And thus an unreality arises, which is of a different kind indeed from
Contemporary Literature, 737
the sliallow emptiness of the Georgian poets, as well as less intolerable, yet which criticism, if faithful to her office, is bound to stigmatise. For what, after all, is the true end of poetry ? Not, surely, to exhibit ex- ternal phenomena for their own sake, but, primarily, to paint the pheno- mena of the mobile complex being of man, and, secondarily, to employ its power in delineiiting external things as a means for representing those moral phenomena in fuller relief and with deeper impressiveness. But this secondary function, with many modern poets, nearly iTsurps the place of the higher function. There are, no doubt, certain rare and exceptional states of mind in which, in the intervals of moral agitation, the intellect employs itself in a morbid and microscopic scrutiny of the natural objects which surround it. But ordinarily, if there are strong pent-up feelings in a man's heart, to which he desires to give voice, or if his mind is full of an agitating and interesting series of events which he wishes to communicate, the confession or the narrative will be but little interrupted by imaginative descriptions, which can only be the fruit of leisurely and curious observation. This is nature; but our poets do not follow nature. They combine moral truth and analytic truth in proportions which do not obtain in the actual world. Thus, though both parts of their work are true, taken separately, to the whole a dramatic truth is wanting, with which no poet can dispense with im- punity,— that truth which brings his work into harmony with life and fact. In the poem before us there is beautiful word-painting in the canto headed " My Lady in Death ;" and there is also the expression of genuine desolating grief. But can any one believe that a lover, hanging- over the death-bed of the fair girl he loves, could let his thoughts wander to the spear-grass in the meadow, and mentally watch the spots of rain uniting and dripping in sparkles off the tips of the leaves (p. 86), or could elaborate in words such an image, even if it flashed moment- arily before his inward sense ? If not, then this part of the poem is wanting in dramatic truth.
In My Beautiful Lady the poet relates how, in his opening manhood, he wooed the beautiful daughter of a brave old country gentleman ; how his love was accepted and returned ; how, in a few months, consumption seized on the beloved one, and quickly hurried her to the tomb ; how, finally, her memory had been to him, in the years that had since passed, an ever-open fountain of strength and consolation, animating him under the labours of a profession in which success was hard to win and there were many competitors, and making his lonely life in the London wil- derness not unblessed. This is literally the whole substance of the story. As to the manner of execution, it would be easy to find fault in minor matters. Exception might justly be taken to the new-fangled, ungraceful metres which Mr. Woolner has invented (as in cantos i. iv. and vi.), and to the frequency of awkward or obscure expressions, such as
** I shrunk from, searching the abyss I felt Yawned by ;" or
'* The aspirations, darkhng, we Cherish and resolve to be ;"
73S Contemporary Literature.
or
" herds, Collecting, lellow pit'ifully bland."
But as we draw towards the conclusion of the poem, while the inten- sity remains the same, the obscurity and awkwardness of expression disappear. Parts of the canto headed " Years after" are quite in Words- worth's best manner. We must find room for an extract :
" Then oft-time through the emptied London streets, AVTien every house is closed and spectral still, And, save the sparrow chirping from the tower Where tolls the passing time, all sounds are hushed ; Then walk I pondering on the ways of fate, And file the past before me in review, Counting my losses and my treasured gains ; And feel I lost a glory such as man Can never know but once ; but how there sprung From out the chastening wear of grief, a scope Of sobered interest bent on vaster ends Than hitherto were mine ; and sympathies Por struggling souls, that each held dear within A sacred meaning, known or unrevealed : — And these, in their complexities, and far Kelations with the sum of general power Which is the living world, now are my gain ; And grant my spirit from this widened trutli A glimpse of that high duty claimed of all."
The canto from which this extract is taken is all a meditation of the author's at the Lady's tomb. Nearly the whole of it is fine ; strongly J thought, and simply and purely, not turhidly^ expressed, — praise which ^ could be given to but few of the earlier cantos. This third part, taken as a whole, is clear and strong, because deeply felt, — because embodying the spiritual experience sprung out of the very life-struggle and concen- 1 trated endeavour of the writer. But Wordsworth could do all this and* much more. He had, not so much by natural gift as by continual labour and meditation, reached to an element of harmony which made him truly an artist, — enabled him to invest small things as well as great, and things wholly outside him as well as things touching liis personality, with forms of beauty. The " Laodamia" and the " High- land Reaper" are yet more solid evidences of the master's hand, of the creative art of a great poet, than the noblest passages of the "Ex- cursion." Of such self-less projection of the poetic spirit upon nature and human life we cannot believe Mr. Woolner capable ; nor do we think that, even if circumstances permitted him to labour in his art like Wordsworth, he could ever attain to the like gift of pure and simple expression upon subjects not vitally near to him. And there- fore, in all kindness, and with true respect for the tenacious and loving nature with which his poem has made us acquainted, — thankful, too, that he has written his poem, because without it we should not have known that nature, — we venture to counsel him to write no more poetry, not to let flattering tongues mislead him into a path which it is not truly his to walk in, but to concentrate his energy and power upon the crea- tion of yet unimagined forms of beauty, through the instrumentality of
Contemporary Literature, 739
that art in which he has given convincing proof that he knows how to •3xceh
32. Since the completion of M. Milne Edwards's Histoire Naturelle des Crustaccs, in 1840, which is a repertory of all that had been done on the subject up to that time, and is especially rich in observations on the Crustacea of the Mediterranean basin, many investigators have laboured in the latter region. Herr Rathke and Herr Kessler, for instance, have described some of the forms of the Black Sea; Signor Costa, those of the Gulf of Tarentum ; Signor Nardo, those of the Venetian Sea ; M. Lucas, those of the Algerian coast ; M. Verauy, those of the Gulf of Genoa ; Herr Grube and Herr Lorenz, those of the Gulf of Quarnero. Dr. Heller of Vienna has now given us a monograph on the forms of one order of those creatures, namely, the Decapods and Stomatopods, that have up to this time been found in the Mediterranean basin, which in addition to many new observations may be considered as a summary of the present knowledge upon the subject. He describes 89 genera and 176 species, of which 2 genera and 28 species appear to be new. The greater part of the descriptions, which are very full, and seem to indicate the specific characters sharply, are from Dr. Heller's own ob- servations. This is especially the case Avith the family Pagurina and the macrurous decapods, to which he has devoted special attention. The work is illustrated by ten plates containing figures of characteristic organs, and of some entire forms from different groups, which illustrate the text sufficiently. From his tabular view of the horizontal distribu- tion of the order in Europe, we learn that there are now 112 genera and 287 species; of which 15 occur in the Black Sea, 115 in the Adri- atic, 153 in the Mediterranean proper, and 41 in the oceanic region of the Canaries, and in the whole province 185, or nearly two-thirds of the European species. Of these 174 are marine, 9 are fresh-water, and 2 frequent both ; 83 marine and 3 fresh-water species are peculiar to the province, 50 are common with the Lusitanian province, 66 with the Celtic, 30 with the Boreal, none with the Arctic, and 20 are found in extra-European seas. The Mediterranean province is especially cha- racterised by the development of Brachyura and Squillina, or grass- hopper crabs ; and by the total absence of Cumacea. Among the Ca- rid^B the genera Alpheus and Virbius have a wide distribution, while the genus Hippolyte is represented by a single species. The Black Sea has 15 species, of which only one perhaps, Gelasimus coarctatus, is peculiar to it; for Dr. Heller thinks Crangon maculo8us is probably a variety of Crangon vulgaris. The Anomobranchiata are wholly wanting, and out of the sub-order Eubranchiata the families Oxy- rhyncha Oxystomata, Apterura (a family which includes Dromia and Homola, or the Dromiacea of De Haan, and the genus Latreillia of Roux), Loricata, Thalassinidse (corresponding to the genus Thalassina), and Cumacea.
To the Mediterranean proper, 30 species representing 24 genera are peculiar, while only 4 species belonging to 4 genera occur exclusively in the Adriatic. Dr. Heller includes the Canary region in the Medi-
VOL. IV. 3 c
740 Contemporary Literature.
terranean province, in consequence of tlie predominance of forms belong- ing to the latter; it has, however, no species peculiar to it; for Dr. Heller considers the Cycloe derdata, which M. Brulle regarded as new, to be identical with a Japanese form described by De Haan. Of the 44 species found in this region, 35 are common with the Mediterranean. 16 occur in other European provinces, and 16 in extra-European regions, Of the 20 Mediterranean species which have an extra-European distri- bution, 4 [Carcifius mcenas, Pacliygrapsus marmoratus, Lysviata seti- candata, and Fandalus pristis) have their maximum of distribution in the Mediterranean ; the last De Haan says occurs also in the Japanese seas. The remaining 16 occur seldom in the Mediterranean, and are therefore to be looked upon as colonists. The following table will show the pro- portions of each tribe in the three regions of the province.
Black Sea. ^tf""" Adriatic, ranean.
r Brachyura .9 74 51
Sub-order Eubranchiata . -j Anomura .2 22 16
V Macrura .4 50 44
Sub-order Anomobranchiata 0 7 4
15 153 115
33. Professor Glaus of Marburg, who is already well known by several excellent papers on the Crustacea, has published a monograph upon the free-living Copepods. Eecognising in the divisions of Herr W. Zenker^ the ' elements of a natural classification, he divides the Crustacea into: 1. Thoracostraca (Decapoda, Schizopoda, Cumacea, Sto- inatopoda) ; 2. Arthrostraca (Amphipoda, Ljemodipoda, Isopoda) ; 3. Trilobites ; 4. Xiphosura ; 5. Branchiopoda (Phyllopoda, Cladocera) ; 6. Ostracoda; 7. Copepoda; 8. Cirripedia. Herr Zenker separated M. Milne Edwards's Entomostraca into its two more or less distinct com- ponents, the Copepoda or Cyclopoida of Dana, and the Ostracoda. With the former he united the neighbouring Siphonostoma and Lerna^odea of Burmeister, or Lernacopodidas of Milne Edwards, into a single group, to which he gave the name of Entomostraca. O. E. Miiller, who first used this term, applied it solely to those forms having tegumentary cover- ings which remind us of the mollusca (Entomostraca seu insecta testacea quai in aquis Danise et Norvegia3 reperit, &c.). Dr. Claus thinks that the word Entomostraca should therefore not be used any longer to ex- press a systematic conception implying the possession of general proper- ties and analogies in opposition to Malacostraca ; and he accordingly uses for Herr Zenker's Entomostraca, that is, for the Cyclopidea, Sipho- nostima, and LeruEeodea, the term Copepodea. The order so constituted is a well characterised one. As to the work itself, we believe it to be one of the best contributions to crustacean zoology which has appeared for a long time. The sections on morphology and development are very
' The paper containing the views of Herr Zenker was published in Wieg- mann's Archiv, Bd. xx. p. 108, for ISol, under the title of " Das System der Crustaceen."
Contemporary Literature, 741
good, and full of new observations correcting previous erroneous views, or completing the imperfect observations of others, and are well illus- trated. The section on habits and geographical distribution is not so full ; a good summary of the distribution of the order in Europe would be useful, and would have rendered the work more complete.
He divides the order into the following families, to which we have added the number of genera, indicating at the same time the number of new ones which he has established in each, and also that of the new species belonging to those new genera, or to the previously-established ones : 1. Cyclopida3 (3 genera, one of which is new, and 4 new species); 2. Harpactidie (12 genera, of which 4 are new, and 27 new species); o. Peltedidje (5 genera, among which 5 new species have been recog- nised); 4. Corycccidas (8 genera, of which 3 are new, and 12 new spe- cies); 5. Calanidai (15 genera, ofAvhich G are new, and 26 new spe- cies); G. Pontellidae (4 genera, of which 2 are new, and 4 new species). This makes a total of 47 genera, of which 16 are new, and 78 new species ; in these we do not include the new genera and species pre- viously established by the author in his various papers on this order. Among his new genera in the family of the Corycasidae is one called Lubbockia, having as yet only one species, L. squillomana^ which is an interesting intermediate form between the Corycaeidte and the Cyclo- pidse, reminding us most of Dithona in the latter family. This genus has been so named as a proper recognition of Mr. John Lubbock's labours in this tield of zoology. Whether further investigations will justify so large an addition to the Copepoda remains to be seen. The author cannot, however, be considered a maker of species; he is, on the contrary, very cautious in including insufficiently studied forms ; he might, for instance, have added many more in the genus Pontella.
34. Dr. Brehm, who accompanied the Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha on a hunting expedition to the Abyssinian coast of the Eed Sea, and who had already travelled a good deal in Africa, has given us an account of his observations upon the habits of life of the mammalia and birds met with during his hunting expedition. The country visited, although close to the highway of Indian travellers, is very little known. The Abyssinian coast of the Eed Sea, from the Bay of Tajura beyond the Strait of Bab-el- Mandeb, and the burning desert forming the re- markable depression of Bahr Assal, a salt-lake now nearly dried down to the frontiers of Nubia, appears to consist almost entirely of basalt ; nor has volcanic activity altogether ceased there yet, as is shown by the breaking out of the volcano of Ed two or three years ago. As far north as 18 degrees of latitude, the coast is within the region of tropical rains; so that the shore is fringed with a dense jungle of Scliora^ a plant about 20 feet high, which only thrives within range of the tides, and which gradually extends seaward by the accumulation of new soil caught by its entangled roots. Behind this fringe extends the belt of volcanic land just spoken of, which, in the latitude of Massaua or Massowah, the port of debarcation of our hunters, is about thirty miles wide, and is there called the Samchara. This reorion consists of a succession of irregular
742 Contemporary Literature,
chains of black basaltic hills and valleys. Through the latter runs a fine network of rivers, along the borders of which vegetation grows with tropical luxuriance. Here the mimosas, saturated with water, become large trees; numerous climbing plants, such as the Cissus, an ivy-like plant, encircles the acacias with its four-sided tendrils, and hangs in rich leafy draperies. Many Convolvulacse, some with magnificent flowers, entwine themselves with the cissus, and complete the labyrinthine arbours which they form, and which often become impenetrable jungles. To these may be added great numbers of Stapelias, Statices, castor-oil trees, and species of Capparis. The broad valleys and plains, which are enclosed by the hills, and the margins of which are fringed with the rich tropical jungle just described, form a steppe-like land often passing into true desert, with poor sunburnt plants, which look gray and colour- less; while the ground itself, heated by the rays of an ever-cloudless sun, is adorned with the colours of the mirage. Coarse grasses, some her- baceous plants, tamarisks, Euphorbias, Asclepias, and Salsola, chiefly form this sunburnt vegetation, while a few stunted mimosas are scattered over the sides of the black hills in irregular patches of bush. Some of the valleys are, however, very picturesque, and during the rainy season are covered with a variety of plants.
Behind the Samchara the highlands rise like walls, and above these the jagged peaks of the Bogos mountains, 8000 feet high, and composed of granite, porphyries, and clay-slate. The few rivers that come down from this high region into the Samchara form deep escarped ravines. Under the glowing Abyssinian sun there is an everlasting play of light and shade about the dark mountain masses projected into the intense blue sky, and thrown into greater relief by the patches of luxuri- ant green which pools of water call forth upon their steep sides. The high- lands themselves consist of plains, from which the peaks rise abruptly; and as there are two rainy seasons, nothing can surpass the wonderful luxuriance of vegetable life — beautiful flowering Cacti, Mimosas, Eu- phorbias, one like a medieval corona lucis, which gives a peculiar aspect to the character of the vegetation. The giants of African vegetation — the Adansonias or Boababs, and several new species of forest-trees — many of the trees being covered with innumerable climbing plants — fill the valleys, while the high ground and the sides of the Bogos mountains are covered with thin woods of olives. Between the higher trees, which at a distance appear like a thin wood, grows a luxuriant vegetation of grasses, shrubs, and flowering j^lants of innumerable species — aloes, Stapelias, Heliotropes, Malvae, Convolvulacse, Cassia, Jasmin, Solana- ceas, &c.
In so varied and rich a region, animal life must be varied and abundant. Some of the black hills of the Samchara have plants able to shelter apes, such as the Cynocephalus hamadryas, and the lovely gazelle {Gazella dorcas), which feeds almost exclusively on the leaves of the Mimosa. In the broad valleys and plains of the same region, two other antelopes are found, the Beisa {Oryx beisa), the true Oryx goat of the ancients, and the stately gazelle of Siimmering; and in the river- jungles the dwarf of the family, the beautiful monogamous Cephcdolo2)hus
Contemporary Literature, TIS
Hemprichiana. Large herds of oxen, tlie African zebu, browse here for months; numerous goats, several races of hairy fat-tailed sheep {Ovis platyura Fersica) enliven the dark hills. The great lion (Leo Senegalensis) comes from his mountains to hunt here; the leopard {Leopardus antlquorum) is also met with, though rarely : the Samchara is, however, the true home of the African hunting leopard ( Cynailurus guttatus). The jackal {Canis mesomelas), the fox {Canis famelicus), several varieties of dog, among others the wolf-hound (Cams Anthus), which occasionally comes from the western steppes, the painted dog (Lycaon pictits), the tiger-wolf or spotted hysena (Hymna crocuta), the ichneumons {Ilerpestes fasciatus and gracilis) ^ the civet and ginster cats {Viverra civetta and Abyssinica), the curious long-eared hare {Lepus Abyssinica), peculiar earth-squirrels, the "father of the thorns," as the Arabs call the prickly swine (Hystrixcristata)^ show the richness of the mammalian fauna. In the rainy season, herds of elephants descend from the highlands for a day or tv:ointo the Samchara; and in the thick bush of some valleys troops of a peculiar pachydermatous animal, Phacochceriis uEliani (Riippel), are frequently met Avith. Even the crocodile is not unknown in these regions, as Dr. Brehm found one in a small pool of water.
The birds, fish, lizards, snakes, fresh-water tortoises, and other classes of animals are equally various. Dr. Brehm, in speaking of the luxuriance of animal and vegetable life, says that, in the small territory of Bogosland, a society of naturalists might find work for many years before they could exhaust the treasures of life with which it abounds, and this though Riippel and Eussegger have gleaned there.
The time which Dr. Brehm was able to spend in Abyssinia was too short to enable him to do much ; and unluckily he caught a fever there, which prevented him from making full use even of that short time. He has nevertheless collected a great deal of valuable information upon the habits of the mammalia and birds, a subject which is liable to be forgotten by closet naturalists, who necessarily give all their thoughts to morphology and development. He gives us very detailed measure- ments of the birds. As he says he is likely to give us some similar obser- vations on Egyptian animals, Ave Avish he would extend his measure- ments to the mammalia also. Such measurements of the animals of the valley of the Nile may prove of great value in archaeological researches, and may throw a light on the infiuence of time upon form.
85. M. Koechlin-Schlumberger has published the results of a ncAv investigation of the so-called transition rocks of the Vosges, Avhich have been already the subject of numerous investigations, especially by M. Delesse. The intellectual vis inerticB is Avell illustrated by the growth of opinion upon the subject of metamorphism of rocks. Not many years ago, it Avas thought that all metallic ores came up in a state of fusion or vapour; even rock-salt Avas held to be a rock of igneous origin as late as 1847, Avhen Karsten published his Lehrbuclt der Salinenhinde ; perhaps there are yet persons Avho believe that rock-salt came up in a state of fusion. Step by step the igneous origin of most rocks has been
741< Contemporai'u Literature.
given up, and the slow metamorphosing action of water admitted to be sufficient. But when a phenomenon was found to be incompatible with the hypothesis of fusion, geologists assumed the water to be hot, or in a state of vapour. M. Delesse, for instance, assumes that granite came up as a magma of mineral matter and water, out of which the granite separated, while the mother-liquor from which it separated penetrated the surrounding rocks and metamorphosed them. M. Koechlin-Schlum- berger has, however, come to the conclusion that not only are mica schiste, gneiss, minette, and similar altered rocks, but that granite, syenite, eurite, and even in some instances melaphyre also, are the result of the slow metamorphosis of Avater and molecular movement of pala3- ozoic slates and grits. According to the energy and deviation of the action, according to the composition and the structure of the original rock, this slow action can produce different types, such as minette, mica- slate, gneiss or granite, and other varieties.
Why is it that writers on the metamorphism of rocks think it necessary to write such big books ? M. Koechlin-Schlumberger has no doubt made very many careful observations ; but, after reading over his 307 quarto pages, we could not help thinking that if he had rewritten the work in 100 pages it would have been greatly to the benefit of his facts. If observers expect to be read they should condense the accounts of their observations.
The fossil part, which is illustrated by thirty plates, contains the de- scription of fifteen species of plants, which appear to be finely preserved. They belong to the genera Calamites, Knorria, Stigmaria, Tubercules, Ancistrophyllum, Didymophyllum, Sagenaria, Cyclopteris, Sphenopteris, and Dadoxylon.
The remainder of the volume contains papers on physics and meteorology, by Professor Bertin. The former are chiefly on electro- magnetism. In one of them he describes a simple mode of exhibiting at lecture the electro-magnetic rotation of liquids. There is also a paper by Prof. Bach on transits of Mercury, and especially on that of 1861. Professor Fee contributes the following papers On tJie Longevity of Man ; A letter to J/. Is. Geoffroy St.-Hilaire on the adoption of a Human King- dom ; and On Species.
^Q. M. Coquand has published a second memoir on the geology of the Algerian province of Constantine. The observations of M. Kenou, M. Fournel, M. Ville, and of M. Coquand himself, had established the existence in North Africa and the Atlas chain of representatives of the European formations, upper silurian, of the so-called Devonian, triassic, lias, Jurassic, cretaceous, and tertiary. M. Coquand pointed out the existence of crystalline schists, grits, and quartzites in the first coast ranges of mountains stretching from the Straits of Gibraltar to the Riff, M. Ville found gray and green schists and quartzites in the province of Oran, on the frontiers of Morocco, apparently the continuation of the Riff Silurian rocks. Overlying the latter are coarse red conglomerates, which M. Coquand refers to the old red sandstone; and in the collection of the Mining Engineers at Algiers he noticed a piece of gray quartzite
Contemporary Literature. 745
full of Spirifers and Ortliis, and of unquestionable palteozoic origin, from the Sahara to the south-east of El Agouat. The existence of rocks of about the age of our Devonian beds is further confirmed by the dis- covery by Overweg of grits of that age in Soudan and Fezzan. In his first memoir on the Province of Constantine, which described only the northern part, M. Coquand referred the brownish- red, rose-coloured, and green marls, alternating with dolomitic limestone, quartzites, and argillaceous slates, and resting on talcose slates, with quartz veins, which occui' in that province, to the Triassic formation. But no fossils have been observed in those rocks; and their stratigraphical succession has therefore been determined only by their relations to the overlying lias. The lower lias exists under the form of great limestone masses crowning the chain of mountains which stretches parallel to the coast from the Great Babor, on the confines of the provinces of Algiers and CJonstantine, to the frontiers of Tunis. The upper lias, characterised oy Ammonites bifrons (Brugn.), Ammonites heterophyllus (Sow.), Am- non. radians (Schloth.), accompanied by many Belemnites, has been tiscovered in Oran. M. Ville mentions Amm. Humphriesianus (Sow.), 1mm. Brongnarti (Sow.), Amm. cycloides (D"Orb.), which generally "Characterise the lower Jura. The representatives of the Kelloway rock, Oxford and ICimmeridge clays, have been noticed by M. Ville. The <retaceous rocks have been referred to the Neocomien, Aptien (or Spee- t)n clay), Albien or Gault, and the chalk-marl.
In his present memoir M. Coquand has established the existence -o' the lower Jura, the middle Jura (Kelloway and Oxford series), and tie Neocomien, in the southern part of the province of Constantine, to vbich the memoir refers. The Neocomien is in contact with the Ox- f(rd series near Batna, In his first memoir he had pointed out the enstence of the coralline oolite at Djebel Taia, and the lower lias at Sii Cheik ben Rohou. It thus appears that the high peaks of Grand Bbor (1999 metres), Ta Babor (1960 metres), Tougourt (2101 metres), aid the east of the Kabylie, belong to the Jurassic formation.
The cretaceous system appears to be developed on a grand scale inthe Atlas range. M. Coquand divides his lower chalk into the fol- \o^getages: Valenginien, Neocomien, Barremien, Urgonien, Aptien; th last corresponding with the Speeton clay, or base of the Gault. His midle chalk consists of the Albien, Rhotomagien, Gardonien, Caran- toien, Angoumien, Mornasien, Provencien etages. The last etage is chracterised by Hippurites organisans (Desm.) and Hippurites cornu- vacinum (Bronn) ; his middle chalk consequently corresponds with the uper green sand, or Cenomanien series, including, however, the zone of iudists characterised by the fossils just named, which is some- tiiEs included in the Turonien or chalk- marl series. His upper chalk sees includes the Coniacian, Santonien, Campanien, and Dordonien etms, including the Turonien or chalk-marl series, and the Senonien or rhite-chalk series. He finds the whole of these sixteen etages of the creiceous period represented in Africa. The Atlas range must there- fore be considered to afford the most complete example of the series Jbicvn. It is probable that there too cretaceous rocks attain their
746 Contemporary Literature,
maximum of elevation; for the highest ranges of the chain in Eastern Algeria, the Auress Mountains, — one of the peaks of which, the Djebel Cheliah, attains 2312 metres, — the Amamra, and the Bou Arif, appear to belong to the chalk-marl and white chalk.
Rocks of the tertiary epoch are largely developed on the flanks of the Atlas mountains bordering the Sahara, The lower tertiary is com- posed of two distinct Stages, the first of which M. Coquand is inclined to refer to the age of the Soissons sands, and the second to that of the cal- caire grossier of Paris. Great saliferous deposits are associated with the African tertiary rocks, the most remarkable of which is the mountain of salt in the southern part of the province of Constantine, called Djebel el Mehlh ; this mass appears to be Eocene. M. Coquand thinks that all the tertiary rocks between the Djebel Dir and the limits of the Sahara present considerable analogy with those of the department of Aude at the base of the Eastern Pyrenees. The Pleiocene period is rejjresentet? in the neigbourhood of Constantine by three etages, a conglomerat< about 150 metres thick, gypseous clays containing helix 100 metrei thick, and a limestone and red clay 130 metres thick, or in all 38f metres. In the valley of Smendou the limestones of the last etage coi* tain Unio, Planorbis, and Lymnsea. This Pleiocene conglomerate fornj a steep barrier to the Sahara, and appears to pass under the sands <f the desert, as is proved by the borings made at Kabash, Ziban, anl Oned R'ir. As these Subapennine beds are thrown up nearly verticd along the whole southern declivity of the Atlas, dipping always to tb Sahara, while they form the horizontal floor of the latter, it is evidejt that the last great elevation of the chain took place after the depositi(ii of the Subapennine beds. M. Coquand accordingly concludes that tie elevation of the Atlas belongs to the system of the principal chain )f the Alps.
The analogy between the geology of North Africa and that of te Iberian peninsula is most striking, and especially between the Ca- tabriau chain and the Atlas. The elevation in great part of both thee chains at the close of the Pleiocene period is evidently connected vAh the drainage of the Sahara, the greater part of which is below the leel of the sea. The fresh-water Pleiocene tertiaries of Constantine ^M^e obviously contemporaneous with those of the valleys of the Ebro, Dufo, and Tagus. The commencement of the series of elevations which -j^o- duced the plateau of Spain and the Atlas chain must have been qn- nected with the barring out of the ocean from the Aralo- Caspian baiml The coordination of the strategraphical succession of rocks forming ihol boundary of the great basin, which stretches from the Straits of Qb-^ raltar to the mountains of Thian Shan, w^henever we may be in a psi- tion to make it, will throw great light upon the changes which precded the human period. I
The province of Constantine appears to offer beautiful example of surface action producing valleys. From the nature of the climate all the rivers are torrential ; and consequently the denudation is not prodced by that slow sloping down of a country into open valleys that Ave s^ in the regions where rain is not periodic. The torrents cut down jeep
Contemporary Literature. 747
ravines with escarped sides, like the cations of the Colorado, and the escobws of North Spain. One of the most remarkable of these is the ravin hleu^ near Constantine. Now that this subject is much discussed among geologists, we are sorry M. Coquand did not devote some atten- tion to it, as well as to other questions of physical geology.
In 1851 themmiber of fossil species cited by the first explorers, M. Renou and M. Fournel, was only 31 . M. Coquand's first memoir brought that number up to 142. The present memoir and short supplement contains a catalogue of 635, of which 306 are new, and of which de- scriptions and figures are given. The plates of fossils appear to be executed with great care, but we cannot say the same of the diagrams. The latter are not artistic, nor are they calculated to give accurate notions. The diagrams in the author's " Traite des Roches" are of the same kind; so that he seems to have adopted this style on principle. We strongly advise him to give it up. Maps of Algiers are not so common out of France as in it; and consequently the study of the book would have been greatly facilitated if it had been accompanied by a plain topographical map showing the hydrography and orography of the province.
37. Dr. Kluge of Chemnitz, pending the completion of a work of some extent upon the subject of volcanic phenomena, has published a small book on the synchronism and antagonism of volcanic eruptions. It is based on a catalogue of about 1450 eruptions, which he has con- structed from the catalogues of Herr Hofi", the Messrs. Mallet, and M. Perrey, with considerable additions of his own. By synchronism is to be understood the simultaneous activity of two or more volcanoes in different chains. The author distinguishes several kinds of synchronism. For instance, the activity may have commenced at the same moment ; or it may not have been noticed whether one or more days intervened between the outbreaks; or the synchronism may be confined to the out- breaks occurring in the same year ; and finally, the synchronism of the activity of two or more volcanoes may have extended over several periods. By antagonism is meant the alternate action of two or more volcanoes, or systems of volcanoes, of which the volcanic groups of Kamtschatka, the Kurile chain, and Japan on the one side, and the Aleutian Islands and Alaschka on the other, have offered a beautiful example since the year 1786. Dr. Kluge has arrived at a very remark- able conclusion, which is specially interesting in connection with the dynamical theory of heat. He thinks himself justified in assuming that certain years are distinguished by very considerable accumulations of earthquakes and A'^olcanic eruptions, while others are more or less free from them ; and that those years of eruption return in pretty regular periods of time; so that they may be referred to a mean period of eleven and a half years. Herr Schwabe has shown that the solar spots in- crease in number for five or six years, and decrease again for about the same period ; so that they appear to follow a regular period of ten to twelve years. Herr Lamont came to the conclusion that the increase and decrease of the amplitude of the diurnal variation of the magnetic
748 Contemporary Literature,
needle was subject to a certain periodicity, the period being about ten years. Father Secchi and others pointed out that the periods of maxima and minima of these observations coincided with the periods of maxi- mum and minimum of Schwabe's observations on the solar spots. The observations of Arago, from 1820 to 1835, reduced by M. Barral, con- firm this view — that is, that an increase in the spots gives an increase in the amplitude of variation. Dr. Kluge now thinks that his period of earthquake and eruptive activity coincides with that of the solar spots, and the amplitude of diurnal variation ; the maximum of solar spots corresponding to a minimum of earthquakes and eruptions, and the maxima of the two latter to the minima of the former.
Dr. Kluge has attempted to represent graphically the eruptions from 1600 to 1860; the ordinates represent the number of eruptions, the abscissae the years. He first represents the number for the whole earth, then that of the northern, southern, eastern, and western hemi- spheres. A glance at these curves shows that, although the obser- vations are sufficient to indicate an apparent periodicity, they are not sufficient to give its relative approximate value anterior to about the year 1820. It appears that the year 1852 was the year of maximum disturbance for the whole earth, and for each hemisphere, while the year 1835, which has a maximum for the whole earth almost as great as that of 1852, and has also a maximum in the southern and western hemispheres, exhibits a minimum in the northern and eastern. The year 1855 had a large number of disturbances in the N. and W., and comparatively few in the S. ; 1857 had also a maximum in the N. and E. On referring to Herr Schwabe's table, we find that the year 1835 does not coincide with the minimum of solar spots ; in 1833 there were 33 groups observed, and 139 days without spots; while in 1835 there were 173 groups of spots, and only 18 days on which spots were not seen. The year 1837 had the maximum number of spots for the period, namely, 333 groups. In 1851 the number of groups was 151 ; we have not at hand any later observations than the year just named, but we may consider that year to be the second before the minimum. So that neither of the years of greatest maximum disturbance coincide with the minimum of solar spots ; the maximum of 1835 occurred two years after a minimum of spots, and that of 1851 two years before. The year 1823 appears to have been a year of minimum spots; and it was also one of a comparatively high maximum of eruptive activity. It may be that the seeming coincidence between eruptive action and the pheno- mena of solar atmosphere and terrestrial magnetic disturbance is only accidental. The subject is, however, well worthy of future investigation; and we trust that Dr. Kluge's book will help to direct attention to this apparent connection between the most mysterious of terrestrial phe- nomena and cosmical agencies.
38. Compounds of Cyanogen have latterly become so numerous that many of them are omitted from even the largest treatises of chemistry. Professor Kiihn of Leipzig has therefore perlbrmed a useful labour in giving us a monograph on Cyanogen and its inorganic compounds. It
Contemporary Literature, 749
seems to have been prepared with great care and labour, and it is con- sequently with reluctance that we notice what we consider three serious defects in it. The first is, that his mode of tabulating his formulae is very confusing ; it does not enable the reader to seize properly the analogies which different compounds present, and consequently the groups into which they arrange themselves. The second is, that the results of actual analyses ought to have been more frequently given, if not in the case of every simple cyanide, at least in that of every com- plex one. In some instances, as in the case of the nitro-prussides, for which no satisfactory formulae have yet been proposed, the author has of course given the experimental data. We think these data, however, are just as essential in the case of compounds about the formulas of which there is now no difference of opinion, but which may be un- settled any day by the introduction of new atomic weights. The third defect in the book is the absence of references to the memoirs of the authors who are quoted, and this is the greatest of all, because it con- oems one of the chief uses of such a monograph.
39. Professor Frey, who is already favourably known by his good handbook of Histology and Histochemistry, has published another on the microscope and microscopical manipulation. The subject divides itself into three parts: the instrument itself; the reagents, injecting, preserving, and other auxiliary apparatus ; and the preparation and examination of tissues, secretions, and excretions. The processes are well described, and in sufficient detail to enable the student to repeat them ; and we have no doubt that any student who would carefully go through the course of observations laid down in the book would be in the right way to become a good observer. The wood-engravings are excellent ; and the author has availed himself of all the most recent information. He has given at the end a price-list of microscopes, lenses, and auxiliary apparatus, made by the chief makers in Europe. We notice one defect in this otherwise excellent book. The author has only said a few words about the polariscope, and not one word about a goniometer. He seems to think the subject difficult, and outside the range of studies of medical men, and to belong rather to optics. This objection applies equally to the microscope itself. The value of the polariscope and micro-goniometer in physiological investigations cannot be over-esti- mated ; indeed, if ever accurate analysis of animal and vegetable secre- tions is to be attained, it will be by the use of both those instruments. By a few measurements of the angles of a single crystal, and an examina- tion of it by polarised light, we may determine the nature of the substances contained in a drop or two of a secretion, while the ordinary chemical processes would require many ounces, and even then an analysis might not be practicable. The part relating to microscopic photography re- quires to be enlarged, as the student should not be obliged to purchase two books on the same subject.
40. Professor Yolkmanu has commenced the publication of a series of investigations in physiological optics. The subjects treated of in the
ToO Contemporary Literature,
first part are of great importance in psychopbysics, and are — 1. Irradi- ation ; 2. The relation between the force of the excitation and the force of the sensation ; 3. The smallest area of independent sensation, and isolated nervous conduction ; 4. The question whether the smallest relative differences of magnitude which we are able to distinguish have a constant value ; and 5. Original and acquired faculties in the percep- tion of space.
Irradiation is the term applied to the visual enlargement which takes place in the size of a bright spot on a dark ground. j\I. Plateau explained this phenomenon by supposing that the excitation of the retina produced by a bright surface exceeded the boundaries of the optical image, llerr Welcker, however, proved it to be due to a purely- physical cause, namely, dispersion. Professor Volkmann showed that dark objects on bright grounds irradiate also, that is, appear enlarged at the expense of the surrounding bright part In this case also the irradi- ation must proceed from the bright part, and yet, instead of diminishing the black space, it enlarges it ; we may call this phenomenon negative irradiation. The explanation which he gave at the time, though correct in principle, because it is certainly a phenomenon of dispersion, and can be corrected by suitable spectacles, is insufficient in details ; and he has accordingly taken up the subject again. His first object was naturally to determine the amount of dispersion, and then to discover the causes of it. We must refer to the memoir itself for the description of the experiments, the grounds of their trustworthiness, and the numerical results. The following are some of the conclusions at which he has arrived — 1. The amount of irradiation depends upon the size of the image on the retina, and both change inversely : 2. White lines on a black ground irradiate more than black lines upon a white ground ; that is, positive irradiation is always greater than the corresponding negative : 3. The extent of the irradiation is dependent on the difference between the luminous intensity of the object and of the ground; that ^ is, as this difference increases the strength of the irradiation diminishes : ^ 4. The extent of perceptible irradiation is dependent on the amount of dispersion, and this relationship appears to be of the same kind as that just stated for difference of intensity : 5. The amount of irradiation is subject even in healthy eyes to very considerable individual variations : 6. Ileflection on the opposition between the object and the ground in m the field of view influences irradiation; that is, the physical phenomenon « of dispersion is influenced by psychological causes. Professor Volkmann considers that when two unequally illuminated fields placed alongside each other are presented to the eye, the one which makes the predomi- nant impression on the soul will be enlarged. This predominance de- pends on two conditions, namely, brightness in opposition to darkness, and the object in opposition to the ground. He thinks that from this point of view all phenomena of irradiation can be explained, especially of black on a white ground, which cannot be explained by merely A physical causes. J
Plerr Fechner, as is well known, considers that within a large inter- val of brightness the perceptible differences of luminous sensation ap-
Contemporary Literature, 751
proximately correspond to constant fractions of the brightness ; and he has used this view to frame a general hnv, which he calls a psycho- physical law, and which appears to apply to other perceptions of the senses also : thus differences in the pitch of notes appear to us equally great when the differences of the times of vibration are equal parts of the whole period of vibration. According to Herr E. H. Weber's in- vestigations, this law appears to apply also to our power of recognising differences of weight and linear measurements. This law appears to assume that the extent of the illuminated surface of the retina exerts no influence worth considering on the intensity of the sensation. Indeed, Steinheil's experiments showed that in photometrical measurements the magnitude and position of the illuminated surfaces towards each other exerted no decisive influence on the judgment as to their equality of intensity. Herr Fechner accordingly did not include the element of the extent of the surface of excitation in his formula ; nor, as Professor Yolk- mann thinks, does Professor Helmholtz believe it to be of much import- ance, as he does not allude to its omission in Herr Fechner's formula, in the elaborate criticism which he has given of it in his Physiologische Optik. Professor Volkmann gives us in the present work a series of expe- riments, which proves beyond doubt that the extension of the excitation does exert an appreciable influence on the intensity of the sensation.
Herr E. H. Weber calls that portion of the skin and retina which is connected with the sensorium by only one nerve- fibre a sensitive circle. He considers that the perception of distance is due to the simultaneous excitation of two such circles, separated by one or more similar circles. Every one knows that the magnitude of the smallest perceptible distance which can be recognised by the skin or the retina varies with the parts, being a maximum where the nervous fibres are fewest. Herr Weber looks upon the skin, retina, and other surfaces of sensation, as mosaics of sensational units ; and he consequently regards our conceptions of magnitude as built up, so to say, of the individual sensations of those units, so that, the greater the number of units excited, the greater the space perceived. This consequence he has supported by experiment. We may also deduce from such a theory of sensation, that if a part of the nervous fibres in a given spot lose their conducting power, the per- ception of magnitude which would be derived from such a spot would be diminished. Professor Volkmann gives experiments which appear to confirm this important conclusion. The application of Weber's theory to vision encountered many difficulties, which at first seemed fatal to it. Herr Heinrich Muller has, however, shown that the layer of bacilli and conij or what constitutes what was called Jacobs' membrane, is that which directly receives the excitation of light; and histological investi- gations have further shown that Sommering's yellow spot contains nothing but coni, and must consequently be the most sensitive spot in the retina. As these coiii are the ends of nervous fibres, and are con- sidered by anatomists as histological elements, their sections should be the smallest units of sensitive capacity. According to KoUiker, the diameter of the cones is from 0-0045 millimetres to O'OOGTm. ; MUl- ler's determination gives 00040 m. to 00060 m.; those of Professors
752 -Contemporary Literature,
Gerlach and Frey coincide almost perfectly with the numbers just given. Herr Schultze found the cones in the centre of the yellow spot to be about half the size of those on the margin, while in i\iQ fovea centralis they measured only 0-0022 m. to 0'0027 m., results which have been fully confirmed by Herr H. Miiller. If, then, these numbers represent the diameters of the units of distinct perceptive sensation, experiments on the smallest recognisable distances become decisive tests of Avhat a his- tological element is on the one hand, or of Weber's theory on the other. If, for instance, excitations which fall within the area of one and the same cone could reproduce distinguishable perceptions, a contradiction would be established between both. Professor Volkmann gives us a number of determinations of the magnitude of the smallest percepti- ble distances, which show, in the first place, that the power of the eye to distinguish small objects is very different with different indi- viduals ; and consequently that Ehrenberg's statement tliat there is a normal power for distinguishing small objects in human eyes, which only seldom and slightly varies, is erroneous: and in the second place, that without exception they are sm<iller than the diameters of the cones, according to Kolliker and H. Miiller, — in one case eleven times smaller, and consequently at least five times smaller than Schuhze's measure- ments. The distinct perception of distance can consequently arise from the excitation of a single cone. Determinations founded on the smallest perceptible differences, the smallest recognisable figures, and the small- est perceptible motions, led to a similar conclusion. Professor Volkmann consequently concludes that anatomists are wrong in their idea of a his- tological element. We believe the idea of homologous physiological series suggests a theory of nervous action far more complete than any yet proposed.
In the case of intense excitations, the differences of excitation appear to remain the same, so long as the same ratio continues to exist betAveen the excitations. Herr E. H. Weber considers that this rule extends to large excitations ; so that the smallest perceptible difference of magni- tude would be given by a constant ratio of the two dimensions compared. Fechner has experimentally shown that so far as the sensation of touch is concerned, this rule does not appear to apply. On the other hand, experiments made with the eye have been found almost always to cor- respond with Weber's rule. Professor Volkmann's fom-th series of experiments related to this point. They are not decisive, and the author himself considers them only as tentative. We must refer to the memoir for the account of them, and for the interesting observations on the author's fifth subject — original and acquired faculties in perceptions of space. It is unnecessary to point cut that, independently of their physi- cal and physiological importance the experiments of Professor Volk- mann have a direct bearing on stellar astronomy, in connection with the relative magnitude of stars, &c.
[ 753 ]
CURRENT EVENTS.
Ox the Jitli of February the House of Commons entered upon its sixth session. In the present state of public affairs this circumstance
is something more than a chronological fact ; it is one The Gro-^^m- y^\^[Q]^ n^ay exercise, and indeed has already exercised. Opposition. ^^^ important influence on the action of our political
machinery. A defeat of the government at this stage of parliamentary existence must almost inevitably be followed by a general election. There are times when the consciousness of such a necessity tends to strengthen the hands of the opposition, since it deprives the administration of the power of using, to any purpose, the threat of a dissolution. In the present instance, however, it seems to have a contrary effect. The Tory leaders have to consult the country as well as the House of Commons ; and though Mr. Disraeli is skilful enough in feeling the pulse of the latter, he is rarely happy in his diagnosis of the former. But at this moment it is the country which is all important to him. The confidence of an expiring Parliament would be of little value ; for it would be no real index of the temper of its successor. A successful appeal to the country requires either personal popularity or a definite policy; and in a race with Lord Palmerston, Lord Derby is nowhere as to the first requisite, while he is at best only on a level with him as to the last. So long as he confines himself to finding fault, this latter deficiency does not make itself felt. Criticism is the legitimate function of an opposition ; and it would be strange if, amid the confusions of two continents, there were any difiS- culty in discovering fitting occasions for its exercise. But when criti- cism has to be replaced by action, the want of a policy becomes serious. There is little to be gained by a change of ministry when it involves only a change of faces. And yet the promises which the opposition have been holding out for the last twelve months amount to nothing more than this. They propose to play the same parts as their prede- cessors, though they ho^j^e to sustain them better; they accept the substance of Lord Russell's despatches, but think they could improve on his style ; they are quite prepared to carry out the programme of the government, if they may vary it by a few imperceptible altera- tions. They forget that imperceptible alterations are rarely worth the trouble of making. It can hardly be wise to turn out a ministry without some definite promise of a new i^olicy.
It would have been very difficult, however, for the Tories to take a more decided line. For some time past public attention has been ex- clusively occupied with foreign affairs, and, consequently, any effective attack on the government must be directed against its foreign policy. Now, if a general election is to turn upon foreign policy, there must be a very simple issue submitted to the electors. Constituencies are not likely to trouble themselves with the details of despatches ; they must be shown that the attitude of the government has been pacific when it
754 Current Events.
ought to have been warlike, or warlike when it ought to have been pacific. And this is just what on two at least of the subjects now or lately in dispute — Poland and America — the opposition leaders have declined to attempt. As to the first, they were even less dis])osed to fight than the cabinet itself. All their attacks upon Lord Russell's diplomacy resolved themselves into this — not that he did too little, but that he said too much. They quarrelled with him, not because his thoughts Avere smoother than oil, but because his words were very swords. Still, whatever may be the demerits of this or that despatch, peace has been preserved ; and it would be difficult to persuade the nation to displace the men who have preserved it, merely to make room for others who, even if we listen to their own account of themselves, would only have preserved it better. In the case of America, the govern- ment professed to hold the balance even between the contending parties; and it was open to the opposition either to contest the fact or to oppose the theory — either to deny that we were, or to assert that we had no business to be, neutral. Lord Derby chose the former course. He expressed entire acquiescence in the policy proclaimed by Lord Palmerston ; but he blamed him for not carrying it out more strictly. The best answer to accusations of this kind is to be found in the acri- mony with which England has been assailed alike by Federals and Confederates. And a counter proposition, to maintain a rigid neutrality between the combatants by going to war with one of them, is hardly more than a political bull. On the other hand, if the Tories had taken the alternative course, and disputed the ministerial theory, they would certainly have raised a question which deserves to be fairly fought. But it is not easy to speak positively on the political results of such a contest. It is a subject upon which the nation is divided. If the upper classes sympathise strongly with the South, the working classes, even those of them who have suffered most by the war, sympathise no less strongly with the North ; and although this latter feeling springs in great measure from a non-appreciation of the merits of the quarrel, it is not an error which it is at all easy to correct. The questions really involved, the principles really at stake, in the American war, are not those which lie nearest to hand ; nor could they be easily made intelli- gible to minds unaccustomed to draw nice distinctions, or to look below the surface of political problems. The differences between the two parties on the subject of Schleswig-Holstein are more outspoken, since the Tories certainly mean war if they do not actually preach it. And in this case, it might seem, they have a better chance of carrying the country with them. But even here there are difficulties. The extent of English sympathy with Denmark has probably been overrated, while there is undoubtedly very little of it in those quarters from which the new ministry would most naturally expect support. And that Lord Palmerston's dismissal should be demanded as the stepping-stone to a spirited foreign policy seems almost a contradiction in terms. The fact of a war being possible is with the mass of the people a reason for retaining him ; the fact of our being actually engaged in one would almost certainly be held a reason for recalling him.
Current Events, 755
If there is little change in the attitude of the opposition, there is less in that of the ministry. Lord Palmerston's hold over the House of Commons is not weakened ; his relations to the party he leads, and to the party he commands without leading, remain unaltered. He still secures the Radicals by his foreign policy, and the Tories by his home policy. The first of these claims is, in some respects, a fair one. The confidence so generally felt that while Lord Palmerston is in office our relations with other countries will be satisfactory at least to ourselves, is, in part, a just tribute to his great knowledgeofthejoerso?meZ of foreign governments, his long experience in diplomacy, and his strong English sympathies. But this feeling rests also on grounds which do the object of it but little honour. Lord Palmerston has too often taken up the political commonplace of the hour, and allowed his foreign policy to be simply the mirror of an uninstructed and superficial liberalism. No doubt he has often been prompted in this respect less by his regard for popular support at home than by his affection or dislike for particular foreign courts and particular foreign statesmen. It would be a hard matter for him to distribute equal justice in a dispute between France and Austria. No doubt, also, it is implied in his character and position that he should not be a severe critic of popular enthusiasm. It is essential to the maintenance of that diplomatic influence which has always been one of the great objects of his ambition, that he should be in an especial manner the exponent of the national feeling. He is a power in the councils of Europe because he is known to have England at his back. But after every allowance of this kind has been made for him, there are features in his foreign policy which neither affection, nor hatred, nor necessity can excuse. He has never used his great influence in the country to inform the public mind. He has never pointed out the real differences which underlie the superficial identity of true and false liberty. He has never distinguished between just resistance to arbitrary power, and the reckless overthrow of existing rights and institutions from devotion to abstract ideas. He has con- founded the revolutions of Northern and Southern Italy in a common eulogy ; he has spoken of the two belligerents in North America as though they merited a common blame.
Nor is the expedient by which Lord Palmerston has succeeded in conciliating Tory acquiescence at all more creditable to him. His power over the opposition benches of the House of Commons dates from the session of 1860 ; and it is due to that " masterly inaction" in domestic legislation of which the abandonment of the Reform Bill was the most obvious instance. Undoubtedly his conduct at and since that time has been distinguished by remarkable cleverness ; but it is cleverness of a kind which implies the abnegation of his duties alike as a party-leader and as the head of the administration. He hedged cleverly ; it would have been better for his ultimate reputation if he had stood to win or lose. The Reform Bill of 1860 was, it is true, a thoroughly bad one. But Lord Palmerston was responsible for its introduction and for its defects ; and he did not release himself from either of those burdens by assuming the further responsibility of
VOL. IV. 3 d
756 Current Events,
letting it drop. We are not likely soon to see a better opportunity for disposing of the Heform question, at least for the present genera- tion, than the last three years have afforded. The subject had been thoroughly discussed; the dangers with which a change is surrounded were fully known and appreciated ; and the atmosphere out of doors was calm enough to allow of careful enquiry and unbiassed decisions. The importance of this latter condition can hardly be over-estimated. The defects of the E-eform Bill of 1832 are exactly those which will not be remedied in a time of popular excitement. A bill prepared or debated at such a time will necessarily be single in its aim, and simple in its provisions. It will regard only the enfranchisement of the class which will have been agitating for enfranchisement ; and it will carry out that object with small reference to conflicting but weaker claims. If nothing is done to anticipate such a demand, a moment will inevita- bly arrive when it will be put forward with extreme, and possibly irre- sistible, violence. If it is anticipated — if, that is to say, it is conceded, so far as it is reasonable, without grudging and without delay — the necessity for formally refusing it, so far as it is unreasonable, will probably never arise ; and if it should, the position of those who refuse will be indefinitely strengthened by the fact that they have never resisted for the sake of resistance. ISTor is it only by way of precau- tion that such a course deserves to be adopted. Our representative system does, in the main, fairly answer its purpose ; but it is neither right nor prudent to disregard its obvious demerits. There is a real call for the removal of needless anomalies, for the fuller recognition of the new interests which have grow^n up during thirty years of unex- ampled national progress, and, above all, for the admission into the electoral body of that great section of the community which is still practically excluded from it. But each of these improvements has its corresponding danger, and ought to have its corresponding safeguard. We must not remove anomalies which answer some good purpose, unless we can provide for its attainment in some other way ; we must not neglect the older interests of the country in our desire to give new ones their due weight ; we must not so enfranchise one class as to disfran- chise all the rest, or sacrifice to the direct representation of numbers the indirect representation of property and education. If ever the day comes when a Reform Bill is carried without one of these precautions being attended to, the blame will be justly due to the statesman who first trifled with a great question, and then traded on the results of his trifling.
There is one party, however, which shows some symptoms, not per- haps of change, but certainly of development. If the economists may be judged by Mr. Bright, they have ceased for the pre- Mr. Bright ^^^^ ^^ regard economy as the final cause of government, a inning m. ^^^ ^^^^^ desire Parliamentary Reform not as a means of minimising expenditure, but as a step towards the redistribution of hiiided property. Their ideal polity can only be attained through the medium of a social revolution. In a speech delivered at Bimiingham
Current Events, 757
on the 2Gtli of January, Mr. Bright, after describing, with considerable truth, the deplorable condition of the agricultural labouring population, first attributed their condition " to the unsound and unjust laws which regulate the possession and distribution of land," and then went on thus : '' In every country of the world, as far as I know, the possessors of land are the possessors of power. In France .... the proprietors of the land are the vast majority of the voting population ; and ten or twelve years ago it was their suffrages that conferred the supreme power upon the present Emperor of the French. If you cross the Atlantic . . . . it is the land-owning farmers and cultivators of the great States in the in- terior of the country who are the depositaries of political power, by whose will alone the President of the United States is able to carry on the gi'eat matters which belong to his exalted station. It is the same in the Southern States ; for the great planting population, the great owners of plantations, are the life and soul of the disorders whic^h are now unhappily reigning in those States. And if you come to your own country, if you come to your own county of Warwick, you will find that two or three landowners can sit down and determine who shall or who shall not go to Parliament, in the pretended representation of the population of this country." It is strange that ]\Ir. Bright should not be more on his guard against his fatal facility of illustration. By itself the proposition, "the possessors of land are the possessors of power," is perfectly true and perfectly harmless. But Mr. Bright in- sists on reminding his hearers that the possession of power does not necessarily imply the fitness to exercise it. He chooses a country in which freedom has been judicially murdered, and another in which it has committed suicide, and asks us to take France and the United States as types of what by wise legislation England may yet be brought to. Probably the process would be more difficult than he thinks ; but as to the tendency of his proposals he is quite right in his estimate. If the land-system of England were the same as the land-system of France, the chances of an assimilation of the political systems of the two X30untries would be indefinitely increased. The subdivision of land, Avhile it distributes over a wider area the power of choosing, or more correctly of acquiescing in, the government, distributes, in a propor- tionate degree, the power of controlling or resisting it ; and in the latter case distribution implies weakness. Again, such a distribution tends necessarily to bureaucratic government. For political influence can be attained, as a general rule, only by possessing land, or by actually taking part in the conduct of public affairs. Men govern their country because they have power in it, or they have power in it because they govern it ; the aristocracy controls the executive, or the executive consti- tutes the aristocracy. It is easier to foresee the ultimate consequences of Mr. Bright's schemes to the political liberties of England, than to understand how they can be intended to confer any immediate benefit on the class of which he has constituted himself the champion. If we suppose that primogeniture and entails are abolished, that in cases of intestacy landed property descends to all the children equally, and that no man can make a devise to unborn persons, the intermediate
758 Current Events.
step which is to put the agricultural labourer in possession of the soil is still to be discovered. It is conceivable that, by a process of continual subdivision, landholders may be reduced to the position of labourers ; but it is less easy to divine the reflex action by which the labourers are to be raised to the position of landholders. There may be more estates in the market ; and the wealthy manufacturer, or the successful mer- chant, who wishes to invest his capital in land, may do so on easier terms. But the element of capital will never be altogether eliminated from the transaction; and so long as the transfer of land requires, as a preliminary condition, the payment of the purchase money, the most formidable impediment to the transmutation of labourers into pro- prietors will continue to operate. But the errors of the advocate ought not to obscure the importance of his cause. It is quite true that the condition of the agricultural labourers in many parts of the country demands the most serious consideration. But this consideration must be devoted to their real wants, not to their wants as painted by the imagination of a political agitator. The grievance of the labourer is not that he cannot buy land ; it is that he cannot get a decent cottage to live in, and that he has only the workhouse to look forward to in his old age. The first of these evils may, perhaps, be remedied by an alteration in the law of settlement. The other requires, in the first place, some modification in a Poor Law which, after all the improve- ments of 1834, seems still to encourage too much dependence upon parish relief, and, in the next place, the provision of increased oppor- tunities for the exercise of individual frugality and forethought.
The latter of these ends has already been greatly furthered by the institution of post-office savings' banks, and Mr. Gladstone now asks
leave to take a still more important step in the same Ann^tieTEm direction. By the Government Annuities Bill, which
was brought in on the 11th and read a second time on the loth of February, the Commissioners for extinguishing the National Debt are empowered to grant deferred annuities, commencing at the age of sixty, in consideration of monthly or weekly payments ; and also, for the same consideration, to grant assurances on lives for sums not exceeding lOOZ. On the 7th of March, in an adjourned debate on going into committee, Mr. Gladstone explained the principle of the bill, and justified its introduction by an unsparing exposure of the position and prospects of many of the smaller insurance and friendly societies. To the first of his proposals, the grant of deferred annuities, little opposition has been made, the only change introduced by it into the Annuities Act already in ojieration being that the commissioners are authorised to accept payments in less than annual instalments ; but the clause enabling the government to grant life assurances has been warmly contested. Two principal objections are made to it : one, that it will teach the people to look to the government to do for them what they ought to do for themselves ; the other, that it will affect the ])rosperity, if not the existence, of private societies. To both of these charges there is an obvious answer. The bill does not empower
Current. Events, 759
tlie government to do for the people wliat they ought to do for them- selves ; it only enables the government to give them that which they cannot obtain for themselves,, and the absence of which too often renders all their self-help unavailing. The large commercial associa- tions in which the Hfe insurances of the upper and middle classes are mostly effected can offer a substantial security for the money invested in them. If a man insures his life in an unsound office, it is usually l)ecause he is deluded by ojffers of small premiums and large profits. But the poor man has no opportunity of examining the position of the society which is to guarantee the safety of his hardly-earned savings. He nmst make his choice among those which he finds established in his own neighbourhood, and by the agents of which he is canvassed. Such associations may be unsafe without being fraudulent. They cannot, in many instances, command the scientific accuracy which can alone insure them a sound constitution, or the knowledge of business which ought to govern the management of their affairs and the invest- ment of their capital. Where these requisites are united in a society, it has no cause to fear government competition. To a large class of persons good terms with fair security will always be more attractive than inferior terms even with absolute security. In a society where these conditions are wanting, every additional year of existence does but enlarge the area over which its inevitable bankruptcy must extend.
On the 18th of February Sir George Grey introduced a bill for the Amendment of the Acts relating to Penal Servitude, founded on
the Report of the Royal Commission presented at the ZnendmeSS ^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ session. The operation of the existing acts,
which formed the subject-matter of the commissioners' enquiries, is briefly as follows : A convict sentenced to penal servitude has first to undergo about nine months of separate confinement, during which he is employed in some trade. At the end of this period he is removed to another prison, where he is employed in associated labour on public works. A portion of this latter term is remitted in the case of all convicts " whose conduct in prison Is such as not to deprive them of this indulgence." The proportion which this remission bears to the whole term of imprisonment varies, according to the length of sentence, from one-sixth to one-third. Those convicts who obtain it are dis- charged with a "ticket of leave," on which is endorsed certain condi- tions amounting to a threat of revocation in the event of the holder associating with bad characters, or being convicted of any new offence, " unless the punishment for that offence extends beyond the term of his former sentence." The first of these conditions has hardly ever been enforced ; and even if the convict " should be unfortunate enough to incur a fresh conviction, the unexpired period under his first sentence will probably be merged in the period to which he will be condemned under the second." Besides this remission of a part of the sentence, a convict may earn during his imprisonment a weekly gratuity for good conduct and another for industry, — the two together amounting, at most,
760 Current Events,
to fifteen pence a week, — wliicli are paid to him in one sum or in instal- ments after his discharge from prison. About six hundred convicts are selected every year for transportation to AVestern Australia, Here they are considered eligible for a ticket of leave at a much earlier period of their sentence than in England, and after a certain time to a conditional par- don, "the only condition being that they shall not return to the United Kingdom." In Ireland the law relating to penal servitude is the same as in England, but it is administered with some imjjortant differences. The separate confinement is somewhat more severe ; and there are two intermediate prisons to which convicts are removed in the last stage of their sentence, in order to test, by a greater amount of freedom, their fitness for being discharged on a ticket of leave. When so discharged, they are placed under the supervision of the police, and obliged to report themselves at the constabulary station of their district on the first of every month. The revocation of the license is rigidly enforced in every case where the conditions endorsed on it are known to have been violated.
A majority of the commissioners recommended that the minimum sentence of penal servitude should for the future be seven years instead of three ; that the remission of a portion of the sentence should be regarded as a reward, to be earned by industry and good behaviour, not as a right, to be forfeited by idleness and misconduct ; that all male convicts, not disqualified for such removal, should be sent to Western Australia during the latter part of their punishment ; that those so disqualified and released on ticket of leave at home should be placed under strict supervision ; that their license should be suspended 'or revoked on conviction of a breach of the conditions; and that when it is revoked the holder should be sent back to prison to undergo the whole of the original sentence which remained unexpired on his dis- charge, in addition to any fresh punishment he may have incurred. From this report the Lord Chief Justice dissented; and he explained his reasons for so doing in a separate memorandum. He recommended that the preliminary separate confinement should be increased to eighteen months, the maximum length of imprisonment in an ordinary prison ; that during the whole sentence the " punishment should be made as rigorous as is consistent with health of body and mind ; that being rendered thus rigorous, it should not be prolonged beyond what is necessary to deter from similar crime ; but that, the sentence of the judge once pronounced, the punishment should be suffered for the full and entire period of the sentence."
Sir George Grey's bill adopts the recommendations of the commis- sioners, with the substitution of five years as the minimum period of penal servitude, and the restriction of the convicts to be sent to Western Australia to their present numbers ; a partial concession to the strongly expressed hostility on the part of the colonists on the eastern and southern coasts to the maintenance of a penal settlement even at a distance of 2000 miles from their frontier.
The Danish Patent of the 30th of March was revoked on the 4th of
Current Events, 761
December. If this step liad been taken earlier, tbe Schleswig-Holstein difficulty might have been settled without a war; but it Germany ^,^^ delayed until the Federal execution had become Denmark. inevitable, until the feeling of Germany had been em- bittered by the development of the incorporation policy in the Constitution of November, and until the grievance of a disputed succession had been imported into the constitutional quarrel. During the greater part of this interval Lord Russell was still smarting under his experience of the preceding autumn; and as late as the 31st of August he declared that "her Majesty's Government had no intention of making any communication to the Danish Government after the reception which had been given to his suggestion of last year." But a policy of verbal abstention is not congenial to Lord Russell's temper, and though Denmark had to be punished by the loss of his advice, there was no reason why it should be withheld from Germany. On the 16th of September he suggested "an offer of good offices on the part of Great Britain and France," based on four "uncontrovertible proposi- tions: 1. that Denmark owes to Germany a complete written ex- planation with respect to the bearing of the ordinance of the 30th of March on the laws, and especially on the financial position, of the Duchies of Holstein and Lauenburg ; 2. that Germany cannot justly order a Federal execution with a view to promote or to prevent the establishment of a Constitution common to Denmark, Schleswig, Hol- stein, and Lauenburg ; 3. that the affairs of Schleswig can only be treated between Germany and Denmark as a matter of international concern; 4. that as a matter of international concern, it is to be desired that Germany would lay down with precision what are the rights she claims for the German inhabitants of Schleswig, and in what manner any engagements made on their behalf have been, in the opinion of the German Diet, violated by Denmark." This proposal was declined by M. Drouyn de Lhuys on the plea that he " had no inclina- tion to place France in the same position with reference to Germany as she had been placed with regard to Russia." On the 29th of September, after the presentation of the Report of the joint Committees recommending the Diet to proceed to Federal execution. Lord Russell wrote to the English minister at Frankfort. " Had the Report of the Committee," he says, " gone no further than to affirm that the Royal Letters Patent do not fulfil the resolutions of the Diet as to the Duchy of Holstein ; that the Duke of Holstein has no right to dispose of the money of Holstein without the consent of its Representatives ; that he has no right to enact laws for Holstein, but in concurrence with the Diet of Holstein; that the long delays of the Danish Government to come to a satisfactory arrangement have made Federal execution necessary ; — her Majesty's Government, although they would still have lamented the interference of the German Diet at this particular time, could not have denied that the principles asserted were the sound, and indeed the fundamental, principles of constitutional government." But he objects to any interference on the part of the German Con- federation in questions affecting the Constitution of the whole Danish
762 Current Events,
monarchy ; lie denies that a mihtary occupation of Holstein based on such grounds would be a proper Federal execution ; and, inasmuch as '^her Majesty's Government could not be indifferent to the bearing of such an act upon Denmark, and upon European interests," he earnestly entreats the Diet to "submit the questions in dispute between Germany and Denmark to the mediation of other powers."
By the early part of October he had determined once more to give Denmark the benefit of his counsel. He recommended that no opposition should be offered to the execution so long as it was confined to Holstein, and that the Patent of the 30th of March should be re- voked, or at least suspended. Sir A. Paget found M. Hall not at all disposed to adopt conciliatory measures, or even to regard the prospect of a war with Germany with much apprehension, his opinion being that " the present moment was perhaps as favourable for Denmark and as unfavourable for Germany as any that would occur. If, therefore, the question must be settled by an appeal to arms, it had better be so now ; and he felt convinced that Denmark and Sweden would not stand alone." Notwithstanding the arguments of the English Minister, repeated in several interviews, the only promise M. Hall would give was to the effect that the answer of the Danish Government to the Diet should so far modify the Patent as to deprive it of its defi- nitive character. Neither Austria nor Prussia considered such a con- cession satisfactory ; but the latter Power expressed its willingness to endeavour to prevent the Execution, on condition of Denmark's satisfying the Diet with respect to Holstein, and accepting the me- diation of England upon the international question. Lord Eussell again urged Denmark to adopt this course; but he was only able to induce the Danish Government to declare, in its answer to the demand of the Diet, that it was ready tq negotiate with Germany respecting alterations in the Patent. On the 5th of November Count Bismarck suggested that the English Government should itself propose me- diation, and ask the Diet to suspend the Federal execution. At first Lord Bussell declined, except on condition of Austria and Prussia jointly supporting the proposition; but by the 18th November, three days after the death of King Frederick, his disinclination had vanished, and the English Minister at Frankfort was instructed to ascertain from the representatives of Austria, Prussia, and Bavaria, " whether the Diet would be disposed to accept the sole mediation of Great Britain in the international questions on which Denmark and Germany were now at issue; namely, 1st, the relations of the Duchy of Schleswig to the kingdom of Denmark proper, and to the German Confederation ; and, i^dly, the position of the Duchy of Holstein in the Danish con- stitution." The result of Sir A. Malet's enquiries was not favourable to the scheme. Austria and Prussia admitted it in principle, though the former regretted that the offer had not been made earlier, and spoke of the withdrawal of the new Danish Constitution as a necessary pre- liminary to its acceptance ; but the death of Frederick YII., and the consequent claim of the Prince of Augustenburg to the ducal crown, had so roused the public feeling of Germany, that the smaller States
%
Current Events. 763
had no longer the power, even if they had the will, to take any step which might imply a sacrifice, or even a postponement, of the ques- tion of succession.
Lord Russell next applied to Prussia. After attributing the adoption of the new Constitution in Denmark to the neglect by the Prussian Government of his advice not to allow " the Holstein question to add to the complications and dangers of Europe," — a sentence which, if it meant any thing, meant that Germany ought simply to have given in to Denmark, — he warns Count Bismarck that though England would not interfere with an execution of a purely Federal character, yet ''should it appear that Federal troops had entered the Duchy on inter- national grounds, her Majesty's Government may be obliged to inter- fere;" and he recommends that the Diet should "demand that the Letters Patent of March 30 should be immediately withdrawn, threatening execution if their requisition is not complied with, and that both sides should refer their international differences to the Powers who were parties to the Treaty of London of the 8th of May 1852." At the same time he gives his opinion to the Danish Government that his Majesty Christian IX. ought to " have no difficulty in taking this step, and it should be done with as httle delay as possible." No answer appears to have been given by Prussia to this communication, be- yond a statement that Prussia and Austria were acting in perfect agree- ment; but Count Rechberg replied about the same time that it was now too late to demand the revocation of the Patent, when that demand had been already made and refused ; that the majority of the Diet were now pressing for occupation instead of execution ; and that, if a simple execution could still be carried out, it would be best for all parties, since it would defeat the revolutionary movement in Germany, and operate as an indirect recognition of the title of Christian IX. On the 28th of November the Committee of the Diet recommended, Austria and Prussia dissenting, the suspension of the Holstein-Lauenburg vote until the conflicting claims to the succession had been decided. The pro- posal of Saxony to exclude the representative of Christian IX. w^as at once carried by a large majority ; and a further proposal of the same state to convert the execution into occupation was referred to the Committee. On the 7th of December, however, the counsels of the moderate party prevailed, and the Austro-Prussian proposal for immediate and simple execution was carried by a majority of one. In the mean time, on the 4th of December, the Patent of the 30th of March had been at length revoked, M. Hall stating at the same time that the concession "would be now considered by Germany as quite illusory, because since the passing of the Constitution the Patent had become of very little im- portance ; . . . whatever course was adopted, however, he felt convinced that war must come at last."
On the 9th of December Lord "VVodehouse left England, charged with a special mission to convey to the King of Denmark her Majesty's congratulations on his accession to the throne, and also with instruc- tions to endeavour to effect a settlement of the differences between Denmark and Germany. These instructions were to the following
76 4< Current Events.
effect : The English Government could not admit that the binding force of the Treaty of 1852 depended in any way "on the execution of ar- rangements not mentioned or referred to in the Treaty itself ;" but it was ready to examine " fairly and impartially' whether Denmark had failed in her obligations towards Germany, and to use all its "influence at Copenhagen to induce the King of Denmark to comply faithfully with all the engagements of his crown." Inasmuch as the Constitution of the 18th of November was "virtually an incorporation of Schles>vig with Denmark," effected " without the requisite sanction of the Duchy, it was contrary to those engagements, and ought to be repealed." Lord Wodehouse was to " communicate the views of her Majesty's Govern- ment to the ministers of France, Russia, and Sweden," and to endea- vour to make their joint representations to the Danish Government ''conformable in substance if not identic in terms." On his way through Berlin he had an interview with Count Bismarck, in which the views of the two great German Powers were stated with great distinctness. Count Bismarck said that it was impossible in the present excited state of Germany " to demand from Denmark less than the complete fulfilment of her engagements /' that it was doubtful whether it would be possible to prevent the organisation of insurrectionary movements on behalf of the Prince of Augustenburg " without exciting an uncontrollable outbreak of popular passion in Ger- many ; " that " the demands of Germany were the same as they had ever been, namely, that Denmark should fulfil her engagement not to incorporate Schleswig with the kingdom, and to grant a common Constitution, in which Holstein, Schleswig, and Lauenburg should enjoy equal rights with the kingdom;" that the Constitution of the 18th of November must be declared before the 1st of January "to be inapplicable to Schleswig," and that the German Powers " could not be satisfied with a mere postponement of the meeting of the new Rigsraad." In answer to Lord Wodehouse's sensible representation that, after eleven years of fruitless discussion as to what constituted " equal rights," there was little hope of the German and Danish views upon the common Constitution being reconciled, Count Bismarck only said that it was for the Danes, not the Germans, to propose some other alternative. " I said," continues Lord Wodehouse, " that I supposed that he would be satisfied if the king issued a declaration that the Consti- tution could not be carried into effect as regards Schleswig. It might be necessary, if the question was not concluded by the existing Rigs- raad, which expired at the end of the year, to call together the new Rigsraad, by which alone the law could then be altered. His Excel- lency said, provided Schleswig was exempted from the operation of the law by some act done by the king before January 1st, when the new Constitution came into force, he did not care by what assembly the law was ultimately abrogated. However, it would, he was con- vinced, be necessary for the King of Denmark to dismiss his present ministers ; a conp-d'etat would be the best solution of the difficulty. The fact was, that Germany would never be on good terms with Den- mark as long as the present democratic institutions of Denmark were
I
*
«
Current Events. '^i^^
maintained." Count Bismarck finally gave Lord Wodeliouse the fol- lowing memorandum of the German demands, which was approved by the king and by the Austrian minister at BerHn. "The Aus- trian and Prussian Governments require that the Danish Government shall carry out the engagements entered into by Denmark in 1851-52; so that, apart from the Federal ties which concern only Holstein, Schlcswig shall not be more closely connected with the kingdom of Denmark than Holstein. They, therefore, consider that the Constitu- tion of November 18, 1863, is a violation of the engagements of Den- mark, and they require that measures shall be taken before January 1 by the Danish Government to prevent that Constitution from being earned into effect as resfards Schleswij?. When such measures shall have been taken, they expect to receive from Denmark propositions as to the manner in which the engagements of 1851-52 are to be fulfilled."
On the 1 5th of December Lord Wodehouse arrived at Copenhagen ; and on the 20th, after consulting with the representatives of France, Russia, and Sweden, he and M. d'Ewen, the Russian envoy, had an interview with M. Hall. M. Hall listened to their joint remonstrances against the maintenance of the Constitution of the 18th of IS'ovember, and replied that the engagements of Denmark towards Germany were not violated by the Constitution, and that there would be nothing gained by its revocation ; " that Denmark wanted a final settlement of the affair," while the only prospect now held out was the re- com- mencement of the " interminable negotiations with Germany, in which so many years had been consumed without result ;" that, great as might be the danger of rejecting the advice of England, the danger of accepting it seemed to him still greater, since " at present the king and his people were united," while "if the Constitution were revoked this great advantage would be lost;" and lastly, that even if the government were disposed to accept it there was no means of doing so before the 1st of January, as the Rigsraad would be closed the next day, and would not consent to undo its own work even if it were to remain sitting. In answer to this latter difficulty, Lord Wodehouse suggested that the session might be prolonged un- til the king could "lay before the Parliament of the nation the advice which he had received from his allies, and leave to that Par- liament the responsibility of accepting or rejecting it ; or that, if the t«n days which still remained before the 1st of January were too few to pass a repealing Act, the Rigsraad might, "at so alarming a crisis of the monarchy," pass a resolution " to prolong its own existence till it had finished the work in hand." To both these plans M. Hall objected that a change of the constitution required a majority of two- thirds of the Rigsraad. Then, said Lord Wodehouse, a pledge might be given to the German Powers that the Schleswig members should not be summoned to the new Rigsraad, which might proceed without them to consider the repeal of the Constitution. "M. Hall said that it was of no use to call together an assembly merely for the purpose of committing suicide. In short, his excellency was evidently deter-
766 Current Events,
mined not to admit that any means could be found of doing what wc advised." Lord Wodehouse's appeal was followed up later in the same day by Sir Augustus Paget. He reminded M. Hall that to him, as the sole author of the Constitution, the king had a right to look to propose its revocation ; that no one else had so much influence with the Eigsraad ; and that if he were to lay before it a " full and correct account of the situation, the advice which had been given by the Powers, and the alternative of its rejection," there could be little doubt that the assembly would agree to pass a repealing Act ; and he entreated him, " for the sake of the king, as well as his country, to take upon himself the task which would have to be performed by some one, unless the monarchy were to be sacrificed." To all this M. Hall only answered that, according to his notion, " the best thing for the dynasty, as well as for the country, would be to take up a position in Schleswig, and there await an attack of Germany ; that even if he could consent, wdiich he never could, to be the instrument for propos- ing to the Eigsraad the revocation of a measure which he had just succeeded in carrying, and even if he could succeed in getting such a proposition adopted, which he thought an impossibility, he did not see of what advantage it would be to Denmark."
In spite of all remonstrances, the Eigsraad was dissolved on the 21st of December. " I expressed to M. Hall," says Lord "Wodehouse, ^' my surprise and regret that the Eigsraad had been closed at the moment when, above all others, it was essential that it should remain in session. I warned him in the most serious manner of the impres- sion which must be produced throughout Europe, and especially in Germany, by an act which could only be construed as a complete refusal to listen to our advice." M. Hall only repeated that the Eigs- raad Avas fully aware of the critical position of affairs ; that there was not the slightest chance of its consenting to revoke the Constitution ; and therefore that it would have been useless to keep it sitting. But, as Lord Wodehouse points out, the Eigsraad could not have been made acquainted with the advice of the English and Eussian ministers, inasmuch as that advice was only given on the Sunday, and the session was closed on the Monday. On the 24th the ministry resigned rather than consent to the Eigsraad being again called together. This pro- position originated with the king ; but apparently the new ministry were as little inclined to adopt it as the old one, for it was never men- tioned again. With the Eigsraad disappeared the last reasonable hope of preserving peace. So long as that assembly was in existence, the Constitution might have been repealed befora it came into operation, and without inflicting any fresh wound upon German feeling ; after a dissolution, the Constitution could only be repealed by being first brought into operation, — by the very thing, in fact, being done against which Germany was protesting. If in some intermediate stages of the negotiations, Austria and, still more, Prussia were to blame ; if, by defining with greater exactness the demands of Germany upon Denmark, they might have given the latter Power less excuse for resisting them ; if their policy was too much swayed by the force
Current Events. 767
of popular excitement, — there can be no doubt that the responsibility of this final failure rests with Denmark alone. There are few minis- ters who have had the same opportunities as M. Hall of leading their country into an unequal war ; there are still fewer, let us hope, who have proved themselves so completely equal to their opportunities.
The principal object of Lord Wodehouse's mission being thus de- feated, he was next instructed, on the 24th of December, to inform the Danish Government that England would support a proposition "to refer the differences between Denmark and Germany to a conference of ministers of all the Powers parties to the Treaty of London, with the addition of a representative of the German Diet ; it being under- stood that during the deliberations of such conference no change should be made in the present state of affairs, and that her Majesty's Govern- ment would offer no objection to such conference being held at Paris." The French Government, however, on being sounded on this point, declined to have a conference held at Paris, on the ground that it would be discourteous to those Powers not parties to the Treaty of 1852 who had accepted the French invitation to a congress. Upon this Lord Russell applied, on the 11th of January, to the Austrian and Prussian Governments to know whether they would accept the fol- lowing bases for a conference at some place to be hereafter named : *•' 1. That the Treaty of London should be maintained. 2. That full security should be taken for the good government of the German sub- jects, or subjects of German race, of the King of Denmark in the Duchies of Holstein, Lauenburg, and Schleswig, in conformity with the engage- ments which Denmark contracted with Germany in 1851-52. 3. That as an earnest of his intention to fulfil the said engagements, the King of Denmark should promise France, Great Britain, Russia, and Sweden to propose to the Rigsraad the repeal of so much of the Constitution of November 1863 as relates to the Duchy of Schleswig." Neither Government was disposed to listen favourably to any proposal to "postpone the invasion of Schleswig until the Danish Government might think fit to annul by constitutional means the illegal union of Schleswig and Holstein j" and Count Rechberg further objected to any specific bases being prescribed, as tending to prevent the Diet from sending a representative. The idea was shortly after abandoned alto- gether, upon France declining to take any part in a course which " meets, in the present state of affairs, with obstacles which forbid all hope of success."
Since the 28tli of December there had been before the German Diet two motions, — one, introduced by Bavaria and Saxony, with the object of converting the Federal execution in Holstein into an occupation in favour of the Prince of Augustenburg ; the other, introduced by Austria and Prus- sia, calling upon the Diet to require Denmark to repeal definitively the Constitution of November, and to declare that in the event of a refusal the Confederation would proceed to a military occupation of Schleswig, On the 14th of January the latter motion was thrown out by eleven votes to five ; and on the same day Austria and Prussia declared their intention of caiTying out their resolution without regard to its rejec-
768 Current Events.
tion by the Diet. Accordingly, on the 16th of January, a collective note was presented by the ministers of the two powers to the Danish Government demanding the withdrawal of the Constitution of the 18th of November within forty-eight hours. On the 18th the demand was refused, the immediate reason alleged being the impossibility of complying with it in a legal manner within the time fixed. When this impossibility was urged on Count Rechberg by the English am- bassador at Vienna, "he replied that in a constitutional manner it would be perhaps impossible, but the king might order a state of siege in Schleswig, which would insure a suspension of the Constitution in the Duchy ; and that after all the Danish Government could not assert that they were taken by surprise, for they had been perfectly aware for a long time past of all that had been intended." He further maintained that the occupation of Schleswig by Austria and Prussia was really more for the interests of Denmark than the uncontrolled action of the Diet, which would otherwise be inevitable ; " that Ger- many had been so often disappointed in the failure of Denmark to fulfil her engagements, that the conviction had gained ground that nothing short of compulsion would insure the satisfaction of the de- mands which Germany had to make upon her ;" and " that her Ma- jesty's Government did not sufficiently recognise the violent excitement of the German public upon this question, nor how impossible it was for a German government to satisfy the opinions of its subjects without having recourse to an energetic policy, which should aim at exercising such pressure upon the Danish Government as would coerce it to fulfil the obligations contracted eleven years ago." In a similar strain Count Bismarck spoke of the occupation "as a proof of the intention of the two great German Powers to maintain the Treaty of London and the integrity of the Danish monarchy. ' It was out of the question,' he said, * that an Austrian and Prussian army should be halted on the banks of the Eider for six weeks, in order that an assembly against the legality of which they had protested might discuss the expediency of granting the demand which they had addressed to the Danish Government.' "
The English Government made one more effort to avert the out- break of hostilities. On the 26th of January Lord llussell proposed to France, Russia, and Sweden, that their representatives in London, together with those of Austria, Prussia, and Denmark, " should sign a protocol to the following effect : Denmark, on her part, would engage to convoke without delay the Rigsraad, and lay before that assembly on its meeting a proposal that it should revoke the Constitution of November 18, so far as that Constitution applies to the Duchy of Schleswig ; and Denmark would further engage that the Danish Govern- ment should employ their utmost efforts in order to induce the Rigs- raad to consent to such revocation. Austria and Prussia, on their part, would declare that they accepted the diplomatic engagement so contracted by Denmark, and, as a consequence of such acceptance, would agree to delay tiie passage of the Eider by any military force until the result of the measures to be taken by Denmark should be ascertained."
I
Current Events. 769
This suggestion was only accepted by Sweden; France and liussia delayed to give a positive answer until it was known whether Austria and Prussia would concur in it. It was little likely that they should do so, for the new proposal contained nothing which they had not already rejected. On the 28tli of January, however, it was formally made to both Governments, and at once declined by them. On the 31st, Marshal Wrangel summoned the Danish commander-in-chief to evacuate Schleswig, and received for answer that he had orders to de- fend it. The King and the President of the Council left Copenhagen for the array, and the Austrian and Prussian ministers took their departure.
The internal state of France has at length become so much more interesting to Frenchmen than external events, that the movement
^ has been hailed as "le reveil de I'esprit public." The
Republican enthusiasm of 1848 did not last long; the reaction was so complete in 18o2, that the cowp-d'etat of the 2d of December was accomplished v/ith the greatest ease. The masses, who had lost all political sentiments whatever, applauded the bold stroke, and blindly voted as the Dictator ordered them. A great part of the middle class was glad to be rid of the nightmare of socialism at any price, and submitted with good grace, if not with devotion. In- stead of politics, these men rushed into speculation. Fortunes were rapidly won and lost ; but there was real material prosperity enough to prevent criticism of the government. The first chamber elected under the new regime in 1852 did not contain a single oppositionist, so well had the administration enlightened the people on the duties of universal suffrage, and so powerful were its means of persuasion.
But the fire was not quite quenched. Groups of eminent men who were called in disdain " les anciens partis,'*' preserved the tradi- tions of liberty; and in the elections of 1857 five opposition candi- dates were successful. They were called, at first in derision, "the five;" but they soon adopted the name as a title of honour. It cannot be said that their opinions were very reasonable, or that, even on their own grounds, they always acted wisely. They often committed the fault of asking too much, if not absolutely, at least relatively to the occasion. Still the debates of the legislative body, which no one had read, and which the papers had left off" printing, began once more to excite attention ; anrl, as the paroxysm of fear had subsided, men began to feel themselves too much confined by the constitution of 1852. The electoral movement of 1863 was strong enough to return, not only " the five," but also some of the leaders of the old parties, such as MM. Thiers, Berryer, Marie, Jules Simon, and other practised debaters. Still the opposition does not count more than 24 or 25 members, instead of the 60, or even 130, who once divided the cham- ber of 283 deputies. The French government has many means of influence ; it holds in its hands both hope and fear, — the two great motive powers when passion is not aroused. But passion seems likely to be aroused. The government only succeeds in putting the
770 Current Events,
moderate men — the true liberals — to silence by substituting radical iire-brands in their place.
The first session of the new chamber was opened on the 5th of Novem])er last. The speech from the throne was important, and had been looked for with anxiety. Men wondered how the Emj^eror would take the revival of liberalism ; whether he would issue reac- tionary decrees, so as to retain at all hazards the dictatorial power he held, or whether he would anticipate the demands of public opinion by letting in a few gleams of liberty. Probably both courses were weighed, and the difficulty was solved by turning off at a tangent. Things were left as they were ; and the public was amused with the bubble of a universal congress destined to be the prelude of perpetual peace.
Not that the imperial speech made no allusion to internal politics; for example: "The legislative body has been renewed for the third time since the foundation of the Empire, and for the third time, in spite of some local dissent, I have only to congratulate myself on the result of the elections. You have all taken the same oath; that se- cures to me your support. Our duty is to do the business of the coun- try speedily and well, in fidelity to the constitution which has given us eleven years of prosperity, and which you have sworn to maintain." The way in which the oath is insisted on betrays a certain anxiety. The cases that have happened of deputies elect refusing to swear fidelity to the Emperor have occasioned a rule that each candidate is to deposit his oath in writing with the prefect a week before the election. The contrast drawn between the cases of local dissent and the common oath leads to the suspicion that it was intended to convey an imputation upon the honesty of some who had taken it. If the Emperor only meant to say that certain electoral colleges had failed to elect the candidate of the government, he expressed himself with need- less obscurity, and uttered a complaint quite unworthy of a speech from the throne.
The "verification of powers'' might have shown how numerous were the cases of local dissent. Opposition candidates were almost every where proposed, and in some places failed only by a very few votes. During the verification many scandals were revealed, such as are inevitable under the circumstances. Of course a man wishes to succeed in his enterprises. He who wills the end, wills also the means; and the stronger he is, the more obstinate is his determination. Thus the French government, when it proposes official candidates, imposes on itself the necessity of succeeding at almost any price.
The nomination of official candidates was one great subject of the debate on the address — the debate in which the opposition must ex- pose all its grievances, and revenge itself for its enforced silence during the rest of the year. This liberty, such as it is, onh' dates from No- vember 20, 18G0. Between the coui>cVeiat and that date France was a country "constitutionnel mais non parlementaire ;" and no one could present an address or make an enquiry. Indeed there was no one to answer such enquiries, since the constitution does not permit the min- isters to sit in the legislative body. But the decree of November 1860
Current Events, 771
allowed the chamber to present an address ; and in the course of the discussion any deputy might address a question to the government orators. During the rest of the session no such right exists.
In the recent discussion two speakers, M. Jules Favre and M. Thiers, exposed the abuse of official candidates. The former was for abolish- ing them entirely, while the latter was for allowing them in a modified form. " The official candidatures," said M. Favre on*the 13th of Janu- ary, " have always appeared to me unjustifiable, because they are in contradiction to the very principle of universal suffi-age ; because they lead to an improper application of the electoral law ; and because they are dangerous to every body, and especially to the government." This thesis was sustained in a more practical way than M. Thiers sustained his, although M. Thiers is considered the very ideal of a practical man. For, the moment a government is permitted to recommend its candi- dates it is implicitly permitted to secure their election by all the means in its power. M. Thiers, however, said, '^ I do not think I impose any very hard condition when I say that these official candidatures are only admissible under certain conditions : the first is respect for de- cency; the second, abstinence from using any of- the means which the possession of power puts into the hands of its administrators ; the third, observance of the law." This is as much as to say, I allow you to do a thing, but on condition of your not using the means in your hands for doing it. Abstinence in such a case would be something more than human.
M. Eouher, the minister of state, and the chief representative of government in the chamber, replied to these arguments by two others — " There always have been government candidates, and parties exist which are hostile to the imperial dynasty." Those who answered him failed to bring out one point, namely, that before 1852 the strife was confined to the parties, while the sovereign reposed in a higher sphere, supposed to be untroubled by their din. A party in power can go farther than a prince ; for the party can appeal to the country and receive its approbation, or if it has passed this limit it may be turned out of office. Now, several of the prefects have gone far beyond the limits of what would be condoned in a party.
These official candidatures have made a deep impression on France. The unmeasured interference of the government has had the palpable effect of alienating several of its former partisans ; and the question of universal suffrage has been brought on the carpet again. This question is indeed tabooed, and no one but the orators of the government are allowed to say a word against it. If a private person declared that he thought it no panacea, he would be " attacking the constitution." But the government may say that universal suffrage " would do great harm if it were not directed." This consideration makes us appreciate the prudence of M. Thiers when he said as deputy, "I now conclude with a simple reflection. I know very well the argument with which many people console themselves for the irregularities which may take place in the execution of the electoral law. They say, ' What would you have ? We have to deal with universal suffrage. Universal suffrage is an edged VOL. IV, 6 e
772 Current Events.
tool. We must consider how very dangerous it is ; and we must leave the government means to direct it.' I wish that we could, once for all, come to an understanding on this subject. In giving us universal suffrage, was it your intention, yes or no, to give us liberty ? If it was your intention to give us liberty, you have no right to use all the means you usually employ to direct universal suffrage. If it were demonstrated that universal sufl&rage is as dangerous as it is said to be, / do not say that I would sacrifice the libertij of elections for this consideration, but I own that I should be profoundly affected. Will you allow me to give you my sincere opinion ? I do not know what is in store in the future for universal suffrage. I see what it is at present ; and I am convinced that if fewer attempts to enlighten it were made — do you know what would happen 1 It might perhaps rather increase the means of con- trol in the hands of the state ; and I am sure that, instead of destroy- ing the government to which you are attached, it might perhaps save it."
These last words produced many protests, but did not hinder the representative of the government from enlarging on the dangers of universal suffrage, which many people think, perhaps without much foundation, will be one day abolished by the imperial government.
The international relations of France are more important to us than its internal affairs ; for though the Emperor is at peace with all his neighbours, his enemies declare that his apparent repose is only the preparation of the lion meditating on what victim he shall first leap. Against this suspicion the following passages of his speech were directed : *' In the midst of these successive rendings of the fundamental Euro- pean pact (the treaties of 1815), ardent passions are being over-excited, and in the South as well as in the North powerful interests are demand- ing a solution. What, then, is more legitimate or more sensible than to assemble the powers of Europe in a congress where self-love and resis- tance will disappear before a supreme arbitration ? What is more in conformity with the ideas of the time, with the wishes of the majority, than to speak to the conscience of the statesmen of all countries, and to say to them, * Have not the prejudices and the aversions which divide us already lasted too long % Shall we always feed our mutual suspi- cions on exaggerated armaments 1 Must our most precious resources be indefinitely wasted in a vain ostentation of our strength ? Shall we for ever keep ourselves in a position which is neither that of peace with its security, nor of war with its chances of success ? Have we not been too long giving a factitious importance to the subversive spirit of extreme parties, by opposing our rigid logic to the legitimate aspira- tions of our people % Let us be bold, and substitute a stable and regular order for our sickly and precarious state, even though it costs us some sacrifices. Let us assemble, without any preconceived system, without exclusive ambition, and with the single thought of establishing for the future an order of things founded upon an understanding of the in- terests of sovereign and people.' "
There may have been a time when such political philosophy was something practical — when it was enough to speak profoundly about
Current Events. 773
conciliation, progress, civilisation, nationalities, and other " ideas," in order to make a great country give up a portion of its territory to its neighbour, or consent to such a diminution of its forces as might be convenient to another power. The Emperor himself, as we shall see, had no great faith in the meeting of the congress. Yet in his letter of November 4 he invited all the sovereigns and independent states in Europe to take part in it. This solenon invitation provoked several kinds of reply.
The first in order was that of the English government (Nov. 12), demanding full information on the objects of the meeting, before giving its consent. On the reply of M. Drouyn de Lhuys (Nov. 23), which impHed that every question then agitating Europe was to be discussed, Lord Russell definitively refused to have any thing to do with it. Russia and Austria both objected that the congress could do no good unless the questions to be canvassed were previously defined. Prussia, having never broken the treaties of 1815, and having consequently no interest either way, accepted the invitation ; so did Saxony, Wurtem- berg, and Hanover, but on the condition that the other European powers, especially the great German powers, w«re represented. Ba- varia and the Germanic Confederation and Turkey accepted it with certain reservations. Belgium and Holland accepted it simply. Por- tugal, the Pope, Denmark, Italy, Switzerland, Greece, accepted it without reserve, and with more or less readiness.
We see, then, that the invitation to the congress was accepted by almost all those who were not interested, or who thought they could gain by it; all the others made their own reservations. Every one might have been willing to get a portion of his neighbour's territory, but only on the condition of losing none of his own. Did not the Emperor foresee this result % Let us examine a little more of the speech of November 5. " When the insurrection broke out in Poland, the governments of Russia and France were in the best relations; since the peace, they had found themselves in agreement on the great Euro- pean questions ; and, I do not hesitate to declare, during the Italian war, as well as at the time of the annexation of Nice and Savoy, the Emperor Alexander gave me the most sincere and cordial support. This good understanding demanded some consideration ; and I must have believed the Polish cause to be very popular in France if for its sake I did not hesitate to compromise one of the first alliances of the Continent, and to lift up my voice in favour of a nation, rebellious in the eyes of Russia, but in our eyes possessing a legal right inscribed in history and in treaties. . . . The Polish insurrection, the duration of which has given it a national character, enlisted every one's sympathies ; and the object of diplomacy was to get for it the greatest possible number of supporters, in order to press upon Russia with the whole weight of European public opinion. This almost unanimous agree- ment appeared to us the means most proper to persuade the cabinet of St. Petersburg. Unfortunately, our disinterested advice was inter- preted as a threat ; and the measures taken by England, Austria, and France, instead of stopping the contest, have only envenomed it. Both
774 Current Events.
parties have been guilty of excesses which are equally deplorable on the score of humanity. What is to be done, then ? Are we reduced to the alternative of war or silence? No." Is it not possible, the argument seems to proceed, to make " much ado about nothing," to make a great sensation, to exhibit a surprising spectacle, and to elec- trify the public ? If the congress succeeds, it will have made a lucky hit ; we shall have established the perpetual peace which Podiebrad and Henry IV., Leibniz and the Abbe de St. Pierre, the Quakers with Mr. Cobden and M. Victor Hugo, could never compass. If we do not succeed, we shall at least have shown our good-will, our fidelity to our motto, " the Empire is peace;" and the fault must be laid on those who refused. It is very ingenious to say, " Two ways are open to us : the one leads to progress through conciliation and peace ; the other leads necessarily to war through an obstinate maintenance of a past order of things which crumbles beneath us."
The objection is, that this ingenuity, which here as in the ancient oracles gives an equal apparent support to two contradictory opinions, hinders the public from seeing where it stands. Among the readers of the speech of November 5 there were as many who hoped for peace as there were who feared war. A similar uncertainty is the constant result of reading any manifesto from the Emperor, such as his letter to the Prince of Augustenburg (Dec. 10, 1863) on the Schleswig-Holstein succession, which manifestly holds in an even balance a sympathy for the cause of nationalities and respect for the treaty of 1852.
We are not much better informed upon Mexican affairs. The war is not popular in France j it has been briskly attacked in the chamber, and the press is as hostile to it as it dares to be. The government has said no more about it than it was forced to say. We do not quite know what its views for the future may be. The one thing certain is, that the Archduke Maximilian has accepted the new throne, and will soon set out for America. If it is true that it requires a higher ad- vancement in a people to bear a republican than a monarchical form of government, the new prince ought not to fail through internal diffi- culties. The prestige of his birth and his personal character will both help him ; and he will be aided by several powerful interests. In the mean time France sends a scientific mission. ** Sixty-six years ago," says the minister of public instruction in his report to the Emperor, "40,000 men of the army of Italy, and our most glorious captain, landed at Alexandria. Behind the young general there marched, not only the bravest soldiers in the world, but a whole colony of scientific meo, to effect another conquest of Egypt by lifting up the veil that had concealed its ancient civilisation for fifteen centuries." Consequently, a scientific expedition must be sent to Mexico. " The results gathered sixty years ago are the guarantee of the results to be acquired by the new mission." Science will certainly be the gainer, and industry also ; perhaps the French treasury will be no loser. The first estimate of the expense is 200,000 francs, and the commission to draw up the in- structions for the exploring parties is dated February 27, 1864.
The men of science will find their brethren of the sword still in
Current Events, 775
Mexico. It is not impossible that the army there will occasion a second loan besides that contracted at the beginning of this year. At that moment the floating debt had attained the formidable dimensions of 972 millions, a gi-eat part of it being payable on demand, so that a panic on the Exchange might have produced a catastrophe. The minister, in his annual report on the finances, in the Moniteur of December 3, 1863, asked for a loan of 300 millions to consolidate that sum, and so to reduce the debt to 672 millions. The Emperor con- sented, of course. The chamber consented with some hesitation. The capitalists, large and small, also consented ; and much more than the 300 millions was subscribed for. The law authorising the loan was passed on the 30th of December 1863 ; and the price of the stock was fixed by decree (January 12, 1864) at 66-30, 3 per cent. To realise the 300 millions at this rate, besides the 15 millions necessary for expenses, and to pay arrears during the present year, it was necessary to create stock paying an annual interest of 14,253,393 francs. The subscription was opened on the 18th of January, and closed on the 2oth of the same month. It was understood that subscriptions for 6-franc interest should be subject to no reduction, unless the offers went beyond the demand, while all subscriptions beyond this minimum were reducible in certain proportions. The subscribers were 541,993, — 134,105 in Paris, and 407,888 in the departments; they subscribed for an annual interest of 219,281,464 francs. The irreducible subscrip- tions (for 6 francs of interest) amounted to 2,409,534 (of interest). The 119,731 subscriptions of between 10 and 120 francs, representing 3,391,640 francs, were reduced to the minimum, and produced 718,386, leaving 11,125,473 francs to be divided among the capitalists. When we see that a demand for 14 millions produces offers of 219 mil- lions, we must feel sure that the state enjoys an excellent credit, and that the provision of unemployed capital is far from being exhausted. But if we were to go so far as to think that France has in hand the 4725 millions necessary to purchase the 219 millions of the subscrip- tion, we should be grievously mistaken. It was known beforehand that the 315 millions of capital, or 14 millions of interest, would be exceeded ; capitalists, therefore, put down their names for larger sums than they could have paid, in order that, after the proportional reduction which would be made, the sum they really desired might be allotted to them. It is only the irreducible subscriptions, and a por- tion of those for between 10 and 120 francs interest, which really represent savings. Now, adding the 2,409,000 of the first to the 3,391,000 of the second, we shall have about 5,800,000 of interest, or about 150 millions of capital. But this figure must be too large. All, or nearly all, the rest was furnished by speculators. The amount of the subscription was approximatively known day by day. The bankers and great capitalists were able to wait, and to take their measures with full knowledge of the situation. If this information is exact — and we have it on excellent authority — it shows that the goose which lays the golden eggs, as we may call the public loan, is somewhat sickly, and requires rest in order to restore her strength. Otherwise, the govern-
776 Current Events,
ment will have to apply to the bankers, and to pay them their com- mission, besides losing the moral support of the spectacle of long queues of subscribers curling from all the doors of the offices of the minister of finance.
To make loans less frequent, the government should walk in the way of economy ; it has not yet entered that road. The estimates for 1865 are just given out. The expenses stand at 1,797,263,790 francs, or 21,081,789 more than for 1864. The receipts stand at 1,799,801,062, or 19,313,070 more than for 1864. This shows a surplus of 2,535,272 francs. But this is only the " ordinary budget." The " extraordinary budget" shows 108,750,011 francs for receipts, and 108,650,000 francs for expenses. Both together amount to 1906 millions of expenses, and 1908 millions of receipts. The surplus of two millions would be excellent, if there was not also the *^ supplementary budget" to provide for, as well as "unforeseen occurrences." The first of these by itself has almost always proved equal to deranging the most admirably contrived equilibrium of French financial ministers ; and history shows that in France " the unforeseen" is stronger than laws, constitutions, kings, emperors, or the most scientific and profound policy.
tONDOX :
ROBSON AND LBVRY, PRINTKRS, GRKAT NEW STREET,
FETTER LANE.
I
CONTENTS.
1. The Irish Exodus and Tenant Eight.
2. The Schleswig-Hoktein Movement in Germany.
3. Agriculture in France.
4. The Bank Charter Act.
5. The Progress of Chemical Science.
6. Thackeray.
7. Indian Epic Poetry.
8. Asceticism amongst Mahometan Nations.
9. The Colonisation of Noithumbria.
10. The Rise of the English Poor-Law.
11. Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible.
12. Conflicts with Rome.
13. Contemporary Literature.
14. Current Events.
Tlie title-page and iMex to Volume IV. will be ready in a few days, anU will he supplied, gratis, to subscribers, on application to tkejiidflis/icrs.