1838, the Chartists had become a large party, and embraced a great number of the working classes employed otherwise than in agriculture.

A considerable number of clever people sympathized with some of the Chartist aspirations. In after years, for instance, that clever artist, the late Mr. Frederick Sandys, executed a most admirable woodcut, "The Old Chartist." Reading one of Mr. Lloyd-George's celebrated "Limehouse" speeches, it seemed to me that the politician in question had drawn inspiration for one of its passages-that dealing with fields of golden corn and the like-from this fine design, which deserves to be popularized by reproduction.

The worst feature of the whole situation seems to me the growth of class hatred and an increased tendency to rush into extremes.

Clever men like my friend Mr. Frederic Harrison, who, in the last century, were full of optimism, are now beginning to realize that the triumph of that democracy of which they hoped so much need not of necessity produce an immediate Utopia; perhaps after all when the history of the twentieth century comes to be written, the forecasts of some of the stanch old Tories of a past generation will be found to have been based upon only too solid grounds. At present all that can be hoped for is that, with the progress of time, democratic opinion may grow more moderate and matured-in fact, that democracy may grow out of itself and realize those fundamental facts of existence, the importance of which were

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thoroughly appreciated by the men of other days. Our outlook upon life undoubtedly needs readjustment.

"It is no less a fatal error to despise labour when regulated by intellect, than to value it for its own sake. We are always in these days trying to separate the two; we want one man to be always thinking, and another to be always working, and call one a gentleman and the other an operative; whereas the workman ought often to be thinking, and the thinker often to be working, and both should be gentlemen in the best sense. As it is, they are at cross purposes, the one envying, the other despising; in consequence the mass of society is made up of morbid thinkers and miserable workers. Now it is only by labour that thought can be made healthy, and only by thought that labour can be made happy, and the two cannot be separated with impunity. All professions should be liberal, there should be less pride felt in peculiarity of employment, and more in excellence of achievement.”

So-called Reforms of one sort or another are, in these days, the stock-in-trade of numbers of individuals, many of whom make a livelihood by working for the triumph of some fad or other, which, at heart, not a few probably hope may be long delayed.

As the Irishman said concerning the now seemingly imminent establishment of Home Rule: "Home Rule," said he, "is like heaven, which we all long for; nevertheless, the nearer we get to it the less we like it."

Another disquieting symptom of the present age

is the way in which patriotism is denounced by a certain school of altruists, who, carried away by emotion, are always ready to declare that any other country than their own is in the right.

The doctrine in question, though formerly very few dared to press it upon the public, is, however, no new thing. There have always been sentimentalists who have tried to defend the enemies of England. After the Indian Mutiny, for instance, Mr., afterwards Sir Henry Layard, attempted to explain to the British public that the revolt had not been a mere military rising but a real national rebellion.

The "Times," however, threw a douche of cold water upon him by explaining how wrong his conclusions were. Layard laid some stress upon his not having been able to procure any direct evidence of the mutilations reported to have been committed by the sepoys; but a parliamentary paper, procurable by those who would "sup full of horrors," disposed of all the attempts to mend the case of the savages, or to impugn the stern justice which had been dealt out to them by the authorities in India.

Each age has to fight its own falsehood. The great curse of to-day is the large number of men in more or less prominent positions who are always saying to themselves and to those around them pleasant things and things serviceable for to-day, rather than things which are.

Noisy individuals of this sort remind one of defective engines which, whilst making a great uproar,

do very little useful work. little useful work.

When confronted with quiet men of intellect and character-alas, now so rare!-efficient drivers and stokers of our great social machine, they sink to the level of mere puppets.

The only satisfactory way to deal with many social evils is by the exercise of patient and gentle forbearance, perhaps the hardest of all weapons to wield with success and skill, which is the very reason they are not popular with blatant, self-seeking demagogues who combine a fluency of words with a great lack of ideas, the want of which they supply by advocating all sorts of wild and unconsidered measures likely to arouse the enthusiasm of the mob.

Enthusiasm, admirable as it is when used on behalf of worthy ends, does not always tend to good.

A remark once made by the French poet, Béranger, well summed up the result of unthinking zeal. At the time of the Revolution of the 24th February the famous actress, Rachel, resided near the Porte Maillot. To enter Paris she was obliged to make her way through armed groups, who endeavoured to keep their zeal at boiling pitch by singing the epidemical " Marseillaise." The contagion communicated itself to Rachel, who was going into Paris with Louise Collet. She commenced singing in the carriage, giving the hymn with the same intonation with which she afterwards brought it out on the stage. "One felt in the air," said Louise Collet, when she related the incident to Béranger, "like a mighty breath of hope that bore along with it all youthful

hearts." "I greatly fear," replied Béranger, who was no longer young, and who had as much good sense as genius, "I greatly fear we have been made to tumble down the stairs we should have walked down."

Whilst a large number of clever people must be aware that our present system, based upon pampering and flattering the unthinking mob, must eventually lead to disaster, only one, Dr. Inge, Dean of St. Paul's, has had the courage to speak out. His admirable comments upon certain developments of modern democracy, delivered at Sion College on 10th November 1911, show him to be quite devoid of that fear of speaking the truth which is now such a characteristic of public men. "To talk to the average Member of Parliament," said the Dean, "one might suppose that the ballot box was a sort of Urim and Thummim for ascertaining the Divine Will. This superstition was simply their old friend, the divine right of Kings, standing on its head, which was even more ridiculous in the new posture than in the old." His statement that it was quite as easy to hypnotize oneself into imbecility by repeating in solemn tones "Progress, democracy, corporate unity," as by repeating the blessed word "Mesopotamia," was also an admirable hit at a widespread modern tendency.

When, however, we are inclined to fall into a despondent state as to the present condition of England, let us remember that in the past many gloomy forecasts and forebodings have not been