It has been declared that Bunyan was the father of the English novel. He would have been horrified at such a thought. But, after all, it is not only a wise child that knows his own father, but often a wise ancestor that can recognise his own progeny.

Dwelling, then, a little longer on Bunyan's literary ancestry or the instruction he may have given himself, we may remember that he had certainly read a great deal besides the chap books which he disparaged and the tales of horror (the 'shilling shockers' of his day) to which he so frequently refers, especially in his own triumph in that particular vein, 'The Life and Death of Mr Badman.' His wife had made him familiar, not altogether to his liking, with that beautiful book of Bishop Lewis Bayly's, The Practice of Piety.' As to pure Literature, in poetry or prose, we can do little more than guess. He quotes now and then some learned name or other, mostly theological. Traces of direct imitation, or more likely of memory, are not uncommon. The most famous of them is the palpable copy in manner, and now and then in words, of Amiens's song in 'As you like it':

'Who would true valour see

Let him come hither;
One here will constant be;
Come wind, come weather
Follow the Master.

There's no discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent

To be a pilgrim.'

If it be unexpected to find that Bunyan when he wrote had Shakespeare's melodies ringing in his ears, we need not wonder much if we find him remembering George Herbert. The God of Love my Shepherd is,' is, of course, one of the many English versifications of the twenty-third Psalm, and Bunyan must have heard it, as he certainly knew the metrical ' authorised version,' a work which hardly surpasses his own poetry in heavy-footed density of diction.

But how different is his prose: there is nothing heavy or laboured there. Take two passages, quite unlike each

other, yet typical of the author, before we proceed. First the famous beginning, which some have thought suggestive even of Dante:

'As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place, where was a den; and I laid me down in that place to sleep; and as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and, behold I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. I looked, and saw him open the book, and read therein; and as he read, he wept and trembled; and not being able to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall I do?""

Then this beautiful picture:

'I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and led him into a pleasant place, where was builded a stately Palace, beautiful to behold; at the sight of which Christian was greatly delighted; he saw also upon the top thereof, certain Persons walked, who were cloathed all in Gold. Then said Christian, May we go in thither? Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up toward the door of the Palace; and behold, at the door stood a great Company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst not. There also sat a Man, at a little distance from the door, at a Table-side, with a book, and his Inkhorn before him, to take the Name of him that should enter therein: He saw also that in the doorway, stood many Men in Armor to keep it.'

After all, it is not through continuous passages that Bunyan is best remembered. It is in quips by the way that he is at his best, or at any rate is most amusing. Here is one, a description of the Pharisee in a sermon or tract:

'He goes on boldly, fears nothing, but thinketh to himself that his state is good; he hath his mouth full of many fine things, whereby he strokes himself over his head, and calls himself one of God's white boys, that, like the prodigal's brother, never transgressed.'

Bunyan was certainly an acute observer of the common speech. Had he an eye for scenery as well as an ear for language? That learned antiquary the Rev. H. P. Kennedy Skipton has identified the road of Christian's pilgrimage from the City of Destruction to the Delectable

Mountains, as the road from Guildford to the range which culminates in Leith Hill, and states that there is a tradition of Bunyan's preaching in Guildford and that two houses hard by were associated with him. Bunyan, he would say, took the thought of Christian's pilgrimage from the very pilgrim road whereby Chaucer's characters went to Canterbury. The identification has every mark of exactness. It conflicts, of course, with the more general opinion as to the House Beautiful, but there is a claim for it that again and again in the course there is an exact description of still existing landmarks.*

We return again and again to the conclusion that all the work was a closely personal study. He was a confirmed individualist. Dr Inge has said that Bunyan started on his journey in the way all true Englishmen wish to get to Heaven. He went by himself. A recent writer puts it rather differently† :

'The complaint has been made that the "Pilgrim's Progress" is a selfish book. Christian, it is said, thinks of nothing but saving his own soul. But Bunyan's aim and his personal characteristics must be taken into account. He wrote in prison. His very active life of evangelism had been rudely interrupted, and, for all he knew, death or banishment might be awaiting him. Did he himself know nothing of Doubting Castle, or of Mr Atheist? He must have been lonely enough at times in the prison on the bridge-head, with so much busy life passing on the other side of the wall. So for the encouragement of his own spirit he sat down and wrote, and, as he wrote, forgot his cares in the glorious adventures of his hero, and the magnificent mercy of his Lord. Religion does not forbid a man to take thought for his own soul.'

Nor, it may be added, his own body. Nor, indeed, from laughing at those who think too much of that. Soul-curer he claimed to be: of body-curers he apparently did not think much. In a charming note, quoted in his Life, Sir William Osler observed this.

But, on the other hand, it is well said by the Rev. R. Winboult Harding ('John Bunyan, his Life and Times,' p. 29) that the writer of the 'Pilgrim's Progress' would naturally think of the country of his childhood, and that the 'Hampshire theory' arises from an association of ideas about the historic Pilgrims' Way, which passes through the neighbourhood of Guildford, Shalford, and Dorking.

† R. Winboult Harding, 'John Bunyan,' pp. 110-11.

We must not leave Bunyan with any thought that as a writer he was ever an idle fellow. Though, like Scott and Shakespeare, he wrote currente calamo, and no doubt never blotted a line (the critics are fond of repeating, 'Would he had blotted a thousand!'), he did revise his work after it was published, and frequently. There are many, and these important, additions to the First Part of the Pilgrim's Progress.' A name was only given to the Hill Difficulty in the second edition: that is one of the many improvements. So again, in the third edition, there enter to us Mr By-ends and his companions, with many delightful sayings. Nor in the first edition is there any full account of the imprisonment in Doubting Castle, and we hear nothing of Mrs Diffidence, or how the Giant treats his prisoners. But, whether with a rapid or a revising pen, the author always enjoys himself. And that is why his readers will go on doing so for generations to come.

Still his books bring to many something of a love personal to himself. Bunhill Fields, that strange Campo Santo in the heart of old London, where trees bloom in the summer over the memorials of forgotten heroes of dissent, is still visited by pilgrims from many lands, who turn from the famous chapel of John Wesley across the street, and the column which marks the grave of Defoe, to the tomb, not old yet already crumbling, of Bunyan. Essentially a countryman, he lies in the midst of the world's busiest city. There could be no more fitting place. Men and women everywhere know Bunyan, and his Pilgrim is for ever a citizen of the world.

W. H. HUTTON.

Art. 7.-THE CAPITULATIONS IN EGYPT.

The Egyptian Problem. By Sir Valentine Chirol. Macmillan, 1920.

BEFORE entering upon an impartial survey of the Capitulations in Egypt, with all their uses and abuses, a short account of their origin and history is proper and even necessary to a right understanding of their political and moral importance. Capitulations is the name given by Europeans to those concessions which secured from the Sultans of Turkey extra-territorial rights to foreigners residing there. They are no new thing, only a continuation of similar privileges granted to foreign residents by the old Byzantine Empire. They were unilateral and non-terminable, but liable to modification by subsequent Treaties. If, however, these were terminable, the Capitulations automatically revived on their expiration. Primarily they were intended to make it possible for Christians to trade and reside in the territories of the Ottoman Empire by safeguarding them against any forms of injustice or ill-usage to which, as foreigners of a different religion, they might otherwise have been subjected. The Capitulations granted to Great Britain by the Porte date back to a very early period, but after various alterations they now bear the date of 1675, and were confirmed by the Treaty of Peace concluded at the Dardanelles in 1809. Capitulations were granted to France in 1581, 1604, and 1673, and were renewed in 1740. The Dutch were granted Capitulations in 1612; these were renewed in 1680, and still continue in force. Nearly all the other Great Powers obtained similar concessions at one time or another during the last 400 years. It is in virtue of these unilateral Treaties with the Porte that Capitulations exist in Egypt. The Powers enjoying them before the War were fifteen in number, viz. Great Britain, United States of America, France, Italy, Spain, Holland, Belgium, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Greece, Portugal, Russia, Germany, and Austria-Hungary. The privileges of the two latter were terminated by the Treaties of Versailles and St Germain.

Turkey abolished the Capitulations as an act of war; during the Armistice they were again put into force