cocked hat, who, they were told, was Bonaparte. This is the utmost point to which their testimony goes. How they ascertained that this man in the cocked hat had gone through all the marvellous and romantic adventures with which we have so long been amused we are not told did they perceive in his physiognomy his true name and authentic history? Truly this evidence is such as country people give one for a story of apparitions; if you discover any signs of incredulity, they triumphantly show the very house which the ghost haunted, the identical dark corner where it used to vanish, and perhaps even the tombstone of the person whose death it foretold. Jack Cade's nobility was supported by the same irresistible kind of evidence. Having asserted that the eldest son of Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, was stolen by a beggar-woman, became a bricklayer when he came to age,' and was the father of the supposed Jack Cade, one of his companions confirms the story by saying, 'Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it; therefore deny it not.'

Much of the same kind is the testimony of our brave countrymen, who are ready to produce the scars they received in fighting against this terrible Bonaparte. That they fought and were wounded they may safely testify; and probably they no less firmly believe what they were told respecting the cause in which they fought; it would have been a high breach of discipline to doubt it, and they, I conceive, are men better skilled in handling a musket than in sifting evidence and detecting imposture; but I defy any one of them to come forward and declare, on his own knowledge, what was the cause in which he fought, under whose commands the opposed generals acted, and whether the person who issued those commands did really perform the mighty achievements we are told of. . . .

There is one more circumstance which I cannot forbear mentioning, because it so much adds to the air of fiction which pervades every part of this marvellous tale; and that is, the nationality of it.

Bonaparte prevailed over all the hostile States in turn, except England; in the zenith of his power his fleets were swept from the sea, by England; his troops always defeat an equal, and frequently even a superior, number of those of any other nation, except the English, and with them it is just the reverse; twice, and twice only, he is personally engaged against an English commander, and both times he is totally defeated, at Acre and at Waterloo; and, to crown all, England finally crushes this tremendous power, which has so long kept the Continent in subjection or in alarm, and to the English he surrenders himself prisoner! Thoroughly national, to be sure! It may be all very true; but I would only ask, if a story had been fabricated for the express purpose of amusing the English nation, could it have been contrived more ingeniously? It would do admirably for an epic poem, and indeed bears a considerable resemblance to the Iliad and the Æneid, in which Achilles and the Greeks, Æneas and the Trojans (the ancestors of the Romans), are so studiously held up to admiration. Bonaparte's exploits seem magnified in order to enhance the glory of his conquerors, just as Hector is allowed to triumph during the absence of Achilles merely to give additional splendour to his overthrow by the arm of that invincible hero. Would not this circumstance alone render a history rather suspicious in the eyes of an acute critic, even if

it were not filled with such gross improbabilities, and induce him to suspend his judgment till very satisfactory evidence (far stronger than can be found in this case) should be produced?

There are somewhat rambling Memoirs of Whately by W. J. Fitzpatrick (2 vols. 1864); the authoritative Life and Correspondence is by Miss E. Jane Whately (2 vols. 1866).

William Whewell (1794-1866) was the son of a Lancaster joiner, who intended him to follow his own trade; but he was early distinguished for intellectual aptitudes, and after passing with honour through the grammar-school at Lancaster, he qualified at Heversham School for an exhibition at Trinity College, Cambridge. Entering Trinity College in 1812, he graduated as second wrangler in 1815, became a Fellow in 1817, and in 1819 published a Treatise on Mechanics. He was ordained priest in 1826. In 1828-32 he was Professor of Mineralogy, in 1838-55 Professor of Moral Theology or Casuistical Divinity, and from 1841 till his death he was Master of Trinity. At Cambridge, in the Royal Society, and at the British Association he was equally distinguished, while his scientific works gave him a European fame. After contributing largely to reviews, in 1833 he published his learned and eloquent Bridgewater Treatise on Astronomy and General Physics considered with reference to Natural Theology. But his greatest work was his History of the Inductive Sciences (1837), followed in 1840 by The Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences. In 1853 he issued anonymously Of the Plurality of Worlds: an Essay (doubtless one of the ablest of his works), in which he opposed the now popular belief, maintaining that the earth alone among stars and planets is the abode of intellectual, moral, and religious creatures-long cherished convictions which, he said, had gradually grown deeper. Like Chalmers and Brewster, his friend Sir James Stephen thought the plurality of worlds was a doctrine which supplied consolation and comfort to a mind oppressed with the aspect of the sin and misery of the earth. But Whewell replied: "To me the effect would be the contrary. I should have no consolation or comfort in thinking that our earth is selected as the especial abode of sin; and the consolation which revealed religion offers for this sin and misery is, not that there are other worlds in the stars sinless and happy, but that on the earth an atonement and reconciliation were effected. This doctrine gives a peculiar place to the earth in theology. It is, or has been, in a peculiar manner the scene of God's agency and presence. This was the view on which I worked.' In opposition to Dean Mansel, who held that a true knowledge of God is impossible for man, Dr Whewell said: 'If we cannot know anything about God, revelation is in vain. We cannot have anything revealed to us if we have no power of seeing what is revealed. It is of no use to take away the veil when we are blind.' Works on morals were his Elements of Morality (1845), Lectures on Systematic Morality (1846),

Lectures on the History of Moral Philosophy in England (1852), and Platonic Dialogues for English Readers (1859-61). And innumerable scientific memoirs, sermons, and miscellaneous pieces in prose and verse were thrown off by the versatile, polymathic, and indefatigable Master of Trinity. Probably, as Sir John Herschel said, ‘a more wonderful variety and amount of knowledge in almost every department of human inquiry was never accumulated by any man.' 'Knowledge is his forte and omniscience is his foible,' was Sydney Smith's epigram on Whewell; and there are many anecdotes illustrating his claim to something more nearly approaching omniscience than is found amongst mortals once in a millennium. He died ten days after being heavily thrown from his horse.

See William Whewell: an Account of his Writings (2 vols. 1876), by I. Todhunter, and the Life and Correspondence by Mrs Stair Douglas (1881).

George Grote (1794-1871), born at Clay Hill near Beckenham in Kent, was educated at the Charterhouse, and in 1810 became a clerk in the bank founded in 1766 by his grandfather (a native of Bremen) in Threadneedle Street. He remained there thirty-two years, devoting all his leisure to literature and political studies; a 'philosophical Radical' and a friend of the two Mills, he threw himself ardently into the cause of progress and political freedom. In 1820 he married the highspirited Harriet Lewin, of Bexley; in 1822 conceived the idea of his History of Greece; and in 1826 mercilessly dissected Mitford's History in the Westminster Review. Head of his bank by 1830, in 1832 he was returned to Parliament for the City of London. During his first session he brought forward a motion for the adoption of the ballot, and continued to advocate the measure in keenly argumentative speeches until he retired from parliamentary life in 1841. In 1843 he retired from the banking-house also, and devoted himself exclusively to literature, mainly to the great History of Greece (12 vols. 1846-56). He was elected Vice-Chancellor of London University (1862), foreign associate of the French Academy (1864), and President of University College (1868). In 1865 he concluded an elaborate work on Plato and the other Companions of Socrates, which, with his (unfinished) Aristotle, was supplementary to the History. His brilliant and accomplished wife was throughout his literary and political life a sympathetic and stimulating helpmate. Grote was buried in Westminster Abbey.

The History of Greece was hailed as a truly philosophical work. It commences with the early legendary history of Greece, and closes with the fall of 'free Hellas and Hellenism' under the - immediate successor of Alexander the Great. The first two volumes were not published till 1846; but at least as early as 1827 Grote was engaged on the work. The primitive period of Greek history-the expedition of the Argonauts

as

and the wars of Thebes and Troy-he treated mere poetical inventions. Of the Homeric poems, he held that the Odyssey is an original unity, ‘a premeditated structure and a concentration of interest upon one prime hero under well-defined circumstances;' whereas the Iliad 'presents the appearance of a house built upon a plan comparatively narrow, and subsequently enlarged by successive additions.' Both poems he fixes at the same age, and that age anterior to the First Olympiad. In the region of authentic history, Grote endeavoured to realise the views and feelings of the Greeks, and not to judge of them by a modern and English standard. His constant_aim—not always attained or attainable -was to penetrate the inner life of the Greeks, and to portray their social, moral, and religious condition, passing lightly over merely picturesque and romantic episodes. He traced with elaborate minuteness the rise and progress of the Athenian democracy, of which he was an ardent admirer; and some of the Athenian institutions heretofore condemned he warmly defended. Ostracism, banishment without accusation or trial, he conceived to have been necessary for thwarting the efforts of ambitious leaders; this exceptional measure was, he held, guarded from abuse by precautions such as that the concurrence of one-fourth of all the citizens was required, and that those citizens voted by ballot. Demagogues and sophists he vindicated, comparing the former to our popular leaders of the Opposition, and the latter to our teachers and professors. Even Cleon, the greatest of the demagogues, he held to have been unfairly traduced by Thucydides and especially by Aristophanes, who indulged in all the license of a comic satirist. 'No man,' said Grote, 'thinks of judging Sir Robert Walpole, or Mr Fox, or Mirabeau from the numerous lampoons put in circulation against them; no man will take the measure of a political Englishman from Punch or of a Frenchman from Charivari! Even the story of the Retreat of the Ten Thousand is retold by Grote with surprising freshness; and his narrative of the Peloponnesian War contains novel and striking views of events, as well as of the characters of Pericles and Alcibiades-whom he insisted on spelling Periklês and Alkibiadês, a method somewhat pedantically applied throughout (as in Sôkratês, Aristeidês, and the like, though Dionysius and Klearchus retained the Roman -us). In the later volumes important sections deal with the career of Epaminondas, the struggles of Demosthenes against Philip, and the success of Timoleon. From the epoch of Alexander the Great, Grote dates 'not only the extinction of Grecian political freedom and selfaction, but also the decay of productive genius, and the debasement of that consummate literary and rhetorical excellence which the fourth century before Christ had seen exhibited in Plato and Demosthenes.' There was, however, one branch of intellectual energy which continued to flourish

'comparatively little impaired under the preponderance of the Macedonian sword' the spirit of speculation and philosophy. Grote's learning was sound, his research extensive and minute, but he was somewhat too confident in his capacity to discover the causes of all things, too ready to apply to Greek life and speculation his universal Benthamite standard. And his sympathies were as pronouncedly democratic as Mitford's had been aristocratic. Sydney Smith sarcastically said: 'Mr Grote is a very worthy, honest, and able man; and if the world were a chess-board, would be an

GEORGE GROTE.

From a Photograph by Messrs Maull & Fox.

important politician.' His main historic achievement was the explanation and vindication of the Athenian democracy, which most former British historians had grossly misunderstood. In his admiration of Athens, however, he was prone to underrate other Hellenic developments, and the injustice of his treatment of Alexander the Great has been noted by later writers like Professor Mahaffy. His style, like his thought, is vigorous; his presentment lucid rather than sympathetic; and there is some lack of that geniality which draws one to a favourite author. But the History shed much new and clear light on Greek history, marked an epoch in the study, and superseded the recently published and scholarly work by Thirlwall; it was careful, comprehensive, accurate, and not unfair in judgment, though not without constant and obvious bias.

Constitutionalism.

The theory of a constitutional king, especially as it exists in England, would have appeared to Aristotle

impracticable; to establish a king who will reign without governing-in whose name all government is carried on, yet whose personal will is in practice of little or no effect-exempt from all responsibility, without making use of the exemption-receiving from every one unmeasured demonstrations of homage, which are never translated into act except within the bounds of a known law-surrounded with all the paraphernalia of power, yet acting as a passive instrument in the hands of ministers marked out for his choice by indications which he is not at liberty to resist. This remarkable combination of the fiction of superhuman grandeur and license with the reality of an invisible strait-waistcoat is what an Englishman has in his mind when he speaks of a constitutional king. When the Greeks thought of a man exempt from legal responsibility, they conceived him as really and truly such, in deed as well as in name, with a defenceless community exposed to his oppressions; and their fear and hatred of him was measured by their reverence for a government of equal law and free speech, with the ascendency of which their whole hopes of security were associated, in the democracy of Athens more, perhaps, than in any other portion of Greece. And this feeling, as it was one of the best in the Greek mind, so it was also one of the most widely spread, a point of unanimity highly valuable amidst so many points of dissension. We cannot construe or criticise it by reference to the feelings of modern Europe, still less to the very peculiar feelings of England respecting kingship; and it is the application, sometimes explicit and sometimes tacit, of this unsuitable standard which renders Mr Mitford's appreciation of Greek politics so often incorrect and unfair.

Xenophon's Address to the Army.

While their camp thus remained unmolested, every man within it was a prey to the most agonising apprehensions. Ruin appeared impending and inevitable, though no one could tell in what precise form it would come. The Greeks were in the midst of a hostile country, ten thousand stadia from home, surrounded by enemies, blocked up by impassable mountains and rivers, without guides, without provisions, without cavalry to aid their retreat, without generals to give orders. A stupor of sorrow and conscious helplessness seized upon all; few came to the evening muster; few lighted fires to cook their suppers; every man lay down to rest where he was; yet no man could sleep for fear, anguish, and yearning after relatives whom he was never again to behold.

Amidst the many causes of despondency which weighed down this forlorn army, there was none more serious than the fact that not a single man among them had now either authority to command or obligation to take the initiative. Nor was any ambitious candidate likely to volunteer his pretensions at a moment when the post promised nothing but the maximum of difficulty as well as of hazard. A new, self-kindled light and selforiginated stimulus was required to vivify the embers of suspended hope and action in a mass paralysed for the moment, but every way capable of effort; and the inspiration now fell, happily for the army, upon one in whom a full measure of soldierly strength and courage was combined with the education of an Athenian, a democrat, and a philosopher. . . .

Xenophon had equipped himself in his finest military

costume at this his first official appearance before the army, when the scales seemed to tremble between life and death. Taking up the protest of Kleanor against the treachery of the Persians, he insisted that any attempt to enter into convention or trust with such liars would be utter ruin; but that if energetic resolution were taken to deal with them only at the point of the sword, and punish their misdeeds, there was good hope of the favour of the gods and of ultimate preservation. As he pronounced this last word one of the soldiers near him happened to sneeze; immediately the whole army around shouted with one accord the accustomed invocation to Zeus the Preserver; and Xenophon, taking up the accident, continued: Since, gentlemen, this omen from Zeus the Preserver has appeared at the instant when we were talking about preservation, let us here vow to offer the preserving sacrifice to that god, and at the same time to sacrifice to the remaining gods as well as we can, in the first friendly country which we may reach. Let every man who agrees with me hold up his hand.' All held up their hands; all then joined in the vow, shouted the pæan.

and

This accident, so dexterously turned to profit by the rhetorical skill of Xenophon, was eminently beneficial in raising the army out of the depression which weighed them down, and in disposing them to listen to his animating appeal. Repeating his assurances that the gods were on their side and hostile to their perjured enemy, he recalled to their memory the great invasions of Greece by Darius and Xerxes-how the vast hosts of Persia had been disgracefully repelled. The army had shown themselves on the field of Kunaxa worthy of such forefathers; and they would, for the future, be yet bolder, knowing by that battle of what stuff the Persians were made. As for Ariæus and his troops, alike traitors and cowards, their desertion was rather a gain than a loss. The enemy were superior in horsemen ; but men on horseback were, after all, only men, half occupied in the fear of losing their seats, incapable of prevailing against infantry firm on the ground, and only better able to run away. Now that the satrap refused to furnish them with provisions to buy, they on their side were released from their covenant, and would take provisions without buying. Then as to the rivers: those were indeed difficult to be crossed in the middle of their course; but the army would march up to their sources, and could then pass them without wetting the knee. Or, indeed, the Greeks might renounce the idea of retreat, and establish themselves permanently in the king's own country, defying all his force, like the Mysians and Pisidians. 'If,' said Xenophon, 'we plant ourselves here at our ease in a rich country, with these tall, stately, and beautiful Median and Persian women for our companions, we shall be only too ready, like the Lotophagi, to forget our way home. We ought first to go back to Greece, and tell our countrymen that if they remain poor it is their own fault, when there are rich settlements in this country awaiting all who choose to come, and who have courage to seize them. Let us burn our baggage-wagons and tents, and carry with us nothing but what is of the strictest necessity. Above all things, let us maintain order, discipline, and obedience to the commanders, upon which our entire hope of safety depends. Let every man promise to lend his hand to the commanders in punishing any disobedient individuals; and let us thus show the enemy that we have

ten thousand persons like Klearchus, instead of that one whom they have so perfidiously seized. Now is the time for action. If any man, however obscure, has anything better to suggest, let him come forward and state it; for we have all but one object-the common safety.' It appears that no one else desired to say a word, and that the speech of Xenophon gave unqualified satisfaction; for when Cheirisophus put the question, that the meeting should sanction his recommendations, and finally elect the new generals proposed, every man held up his hand. Xenophon then moved that the army should break up immediately and march to some well-stored villages, rather more than two miles distant; that the march should be in a hollow oblong, with the baggage in the centre; that Cheirisophus, as a Lacedæmonian, should lead the van; while Kleanor and the other senior officers would command on each flank; and himself with Timasion, as the two youngest of the generals, would lead the rear-guard.

Dion.

Apart from wealth and high position, the personal character of Dion was in itself marked and prominent. He was of an energetic temper, great bravery, and very considerable mental capacities. Though his nature was haughty and disdainful towards individuals, yet as to political communion his ambition was by no means purely self-seeking and egotistic, like that of the elder Dionysius. Animated with vehement love of power, he was at the same time penetrated with that sense of regulated polity and submission of individual will to fixed laws which floated in the atmosphere of Grecian talk and literature, and stood so high in Grecian morality. He was, moreover, capable of acting with enthusiasm, and braving every hazard in prosecution of his own convictions.

Born about the year 408 B.C., Dion was twenty-one years of age in 387 B.C., when the elder Dionysius, having dismantled Rhegium and subdued Kroton, attained the maximum of his dominion, as master of the Sicilian and Italian Greeks. Standing high in the favour of his brother-in-law Dionysius, Dion doubtless took part in the wars whereby this large dominion had been acquired, as well as in the life of indulgence and luxury which prevailed generally among wealthy Greeks in Sicily and Italy, and which to the Athenian Plato appeared alike surprising and repulsive. That great

philosopher visited Italy and Sicily about 387 B.C. He was in acquaintance and fellowship with the school of philosophers called Pythagoreans; the remnant of the Pythagorean brotherhood, who had once exercised so powerful a political influence over the cities of those regions, and who still enjoyed considerable reputation, even after complete political downfall, through individual ability and rank of the members, combined with habits of recluse study, mysticism, and attachment among themselves. With these Pythagoreans Dion also, a young man of open mind and ardent aspirations, was naturally thrown into communication by the proceedings of the elder Dionysius in Italy. Through them he came into intercourse with Plato, whose conversation made an epoch in his life.

The mystic turn of imagination, the sententious brevity, and the mathematical researches of the Pythagoreans produced doubtless an imposing effect upon Dion ; just as Lysis, a member of that brotherhood, had acquired

the attachment and influenced the sentiments of Epaminondas at Thebes. But Plato's power of working upon the minds of young men was far more impressive and irresistible. He possessed a large range of practical experience, a mastery of political and social topics, and a charm of eloquence to which the Pythagoreans were strangers. The stirring effects of the Sokratic talk, as well as of the democratical atmosphere in which Plato had been brought up, had developed all the communicative aptitude of his mind; and great as that aptitude appears in his remaining dialogues, there is ground for believing that it was far greater in his conversation; greater perhaps in 387 B.C., when he was still mainly the Sokratic Plato, than it became in later days after he had imbibed to a certain extent the mysticism of the Pythagoreans. Brought up as Dion had been at the court of Dionysius, accustomed to see around him only slavish deference and luxurious enjoyment, unused to open speech or large philosophical discussion, he found in Plato a new man exhibited, and a new world opened before him. . . .

As the stimulus from the teacher was here put forth with consummate efficacy, so the predisposition of the learner enabled it to take full effect. Dion became an altered man both in public sentiment and in individual behaviour. He recollected that, twenty years before, his country, Syracuse, had been as free as Athens. He learned to abhor the iniquity of the despotism by which her liberty had been overthrown, and by which subsequently the liberties of so many other Greeks in Italy and Sicily had been trodden down also. He was made to remark that Sicily had been half barbarised through the foreign mercenaries imported as the despots' instruments. He conceived the sublime idea or dream of rectifying all this accumulation of wrong and suffering. It was his first wish to cleanse Syracuse from the blot of slavery, and to clothe her anew in the brightness and dignity of freedom, yet not with the view of restoring the popular government as it had stood prior to the usurpation, but of establishing an improved constitutional polity, originated by himself, with laws which should not only secure individual rights, but also educate and moralise the citizens. The function which he imagined to himself, and which the conversation of Plato suggested, was not that of a despot like Dionysius, but that of a despotic legislator like Lykurgus, taking advantage of a momentary omnipotence, conferred upon him by grateful citizens in a state of public confusion, to originate a good system, which, when once put in motion, would keep itself alive by fashioning the minds of the citizens to its own intrinsic excellence.

Grote's minor works were published by Professor Bain in 1873, and Fragments on Ethical Subjects in 1876.-Mrs Grote (17921878) wrote a Memoir of Ary Scheffer (1860), a volume of Collected Papers in Prose and Verse (1862), books on the Philosophical Radicals of 1832 (especially Molesworth) and on the political events of 1831-32, and The Personal Life of George Grote (1873).

Adam Sedgwick (1785-1873), born at Dent vicarage in north-west Yorkshire, after being a Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, became Woodwardian Professor of Geology (1818), canon of Norwich (1834), and vice-master of Trinity (1847). His best work was on British Paleozoic Fossils (1854); he trenchantly attacked The Vestiges of Creation and Darwin's Origin of Species. See his Life and Letters by Clark and Hughes (2 vols. 1890).

Dr Thomas Arnold of Rugby (1795-1842), who in many ways influenced the thought and life of England, holds his place in literature mainly in virtue of his History of Rome. A native of East Cowes in the Isle of Wight, where his father was collector of customs, he was educated at Winchester, and afterwards at Oxford, being elected a scholar of Corpus in 1811 and a Fellow of Oriel in 1815. He remained at Oxford four more years, teaching pupils; and in his twenty-fifth year he settled at Laleham near Staines in Middlesex, where he took pupils, married, and spent nine years of happiness and study. He took priest's orders in 1828, and in the same year he was appointed to the headmastership of Rugby School. He longed to 'try whether our public school system has not in it some noble elements which may produce fruit even to life eternal,' and his exertions not only raised Rugby School to exceptional eminence and success, but introduced an inestimable change and improvement into all the public schools in England. He trusted much to the sixth form,' or elder boys, who exercised a recognised authority over the junior pupils, and these he inspired with love, reverence, and confidence. His interest in his pupils was that of a parent, and it was unceasing. On Sunday he preached to them; he was still the instructor and the schoolmaster, only teaching and educating with increased solemnity and energy.' His firmness, his sympathy, his fine manly character and devotion to duty, in time bound all good hearts to him. Out-of-doors Arnold had also his battles to fight. He was a Liberal in politics, and a keen Church reformer. To the High Church party he was strenuously opposed; the Church, he said, meant not the priesthood, but the body of believers. Nothing could save the Church but a union with the Dissenters; and the civil power was more able than the clergy not only to govern but to fix the doctrines of the Church. These Erastian views, propounded with his usual zeal and earnestness, offended and alarmed many of Arnold's own friends. His liberalism shocked the mass of the devout, and his reverent religious spirit puzzled those more 'advanced' than he was. In 1841 he was nominated Regius Professor of Modern History at Oxford. His inaugural lecture was attended by a vast concourse of students and friends, for the popular tide had now turned in his favour, and his apparently robust health promised a long succession of professorial triumphs, as well as of general usefulness. He had purchased Fox How, in one of the most beautiful parts of the Lake country, spending all his spare time there; and he was preparing to return thither in the summer of 1842, when one night he had an attack of angina pectoris, and died next morning (12th June).

Arnold's works give but a faint idea of what he accomplished-he was emphatically a man of action; but his writings are characteristic of the man-earnest, clear in conception and style, and