"For Better for Worse." before fighting. To make the religious ceremony of marriage sole evidence of its legality is to concede much to private liking. Some religious sects are so obscure that their ceremonies lack notoriety; some are so unreasonable that they lack proper seriousness. If all sects and creeds alike are to be witnesses and registrars of marriage, there must be some superiorising central civil authority. This authority does not affect to marry people, but to see that they are really married. Any religious denomination that refuses to the State the guarantee of publicity ought not to be allowed to celebrate marriage. LL difficult undertakings are made more difficult by uncertainty. To know beforehand what to do and what to expect will not of itself give strength to do, nor patience to bear, but strength will be less likely to break, and patience less likely to bend the more exactly that each knows the load to be laid upon The State leaves the individual free choice among reit. Another alleviation of difficulty is to know that others, ligious ceremonies, and, if he declines them all, will give no better than we, have done the same before us; that the his marriage the same publicity and assurance that he task, though hard, is not oppressive, that the journey, could get at church. could get at church. What then does the State in this though long, is not solitary. These elements, certainty non-religious form of marriage? Does she marry the and possibility, are important in every act of the indepen-church-shunning couple; or, at least, does her neutral dent will; more important in matters involving the consent and combination of more wills than one; most important when this consent and combination is to do an act that shall be irreversible. But why should any act be irreversible? If human wisdom is not absolute, if second thoughts are best, if failure is not a frequent road to success, why should parties be bound against their will by a single act? If both parties to a bargain wish to reserve a right to rescind it, who suffers as long as one party may not withdraw without the other? What is sought in a bargain but the advantage of the parties thereto, and if these are not judges of their own good, who else assumes to be so? What notice had the contracting parties that there was a third party to their contract more powerful than their separate or united selves? There are contracts not terminable at the will of the parties because of their Csacred nature and universal concernment. There is a tacit contract between a citizen and his country, the one promising fidelity, the other protection. There is the solemn and explicit engagement of Holy Orders; and there is the estate of marriage. In all these cases the contract is irrevocable, because something higher than individual interest is concerned therein; indeed the contract changes its character and becomes less a contract than a debt. The citizen is a debtor to his country, the priest to heaven, the wedded pair to society. Here is reason for the indissolubility of the mar riage contract, that it is a debt to society. As Lord Stowell says, marriage is the parent, not the child, of civil society; so the child receives from the parent. The return which society pays to marriage is to guarantee its certainty. This is the one indispensable requisite, all else thereto belonging may be left to choice. Since society receives so largely from marriage she must know to whom she is obliged. It must be open and manifest who are married and who not; there must be no contraband trading in marital rights and privileges. How best to effect this is the problem for the legislator. The difficulty is, to avoid all needless interference in a delicate matter. People expect to do as they like in getting married, though they must do as others do when they are married. The difficulty can be obviated only by general consent, and that consent is all but unanimously pronounced. The legislator's work is anticipated, it is already done, perhaps overdone. Nearly all people, at all times, in all countries, have agreed to initiate the state of marriage by a religious ceremony. This is a singularly appropriate admission, that the assumption of an irremovable yoke requires strength above our own; irremovable, because, notwithstanding customs of divorce and polygamy, marriage has never been regarded a thing to be taken up and laid down at will. This use of a religious ceremony supplies the requisite of publicity. Marriage is made part of public worship, of dedication, prayer, thanksgiving. The priests or ministers of religion who conduct the ceremony preserve its evidence, and thus assure society that the fountain whence flows her purity is unsullied. But is this religious guarantee all that society need demand? It is most appropriate and most prevailing; indeed almost universal consent places religion before marriage, as arming registrar do for them what the priest professes to do? Clearly, he does; so to the previous question, what does the priest in the marriage service? Does he marry the couple? He says to the congregation, "We are come to join these persons in Holy Matrimony." He asks each contracting party will they take the other. He receives the woman from her friends' hands and gives her to the man; then each says to the other, "I take thee;" then the man places the ring on the woman's finger, saying, Thus I thee wed." Then the priest declares them man and wife. In his first address the priest speaks of the man and woman as though they were passive; they come to be joined, not to join themselves; but the act of marriage is the act of the parties: they agree, they take; they enter the house of marriage, and the priest shuts the door upon them. The priest's opening address declares that he is about to marry the parties, and in the end he declares them married. But the parties marry themselves, and the priest witnesses their marriage. This is the doctrine of that Church that holds marriage as a sacrament. The priest does not administer the sacrament, but the parties do to themselves and to each other. This truth has been insufficiently apprehended, because of a confusion between the marriage state and the marriage ceremony, common to nearly all who speak or treat of marriage. The sacrament or mystery of marriage is the union created and subsisting between the wedded pair, whereby two become one. This mystery is as great and as inscrutable all through married life as it was on the day of the ceremony. The original law of England was, in 1842, declared by the House of Lords to be that the presence of a priest was indispensable to a valid marriage. This decision was most severely contested, and it is hard to see how it consists with the fact that at all times Jews and Quakers have married without a priest. If the priest was indeed necessary to make a marriage, then the act of 1836 was a very startling innovation. That is called a law to enable parties to contract a civil marriage before a registrar. Here is an example of the confusion aforesaid; it is not a civil marriage, but a civil ceremony of marriage; the marriage itself will be as religious, that is, as binding, as if entered on in church. The object of this law is to relieve persons who dislike the Church service from need of conforming thereto. The advantage belonging to marriage in the church, which the laws sought to retain, were publicity and certainty. Publicity, to ensure that the parties seeking to marry were competent to contract it; certainty, to make it known to the world that they had contracted it. Nothing can secure more publicity than publishing banns in church. By no means can a larger number be advertised of an intended marriage; no challenge so fair to all who might properly oppugn it. The practice of licence to marry is of far inferior publicity, depending on little more than the oath of one of the parties. Publicity in either case was further assured by requiring the ceremony to be performed with open doors in broad day-light; certainty was secured by the parish registry. The new law went beyond this security, by requiring copies of all registered marriages to be sent to a central authority, such copies authenticating the fact of marriage. The law sought to do for all who refused the Church service just what the Church did for those who accepted it. A civil registrar might receive and publish notices of marriage, might grant a licence, and attend to marry the couple. Here the publication, the most important part, is far inferior to that of the Church. Publication in a Union boardroom is notice to the guardians only, in a registrar's office it is no notice at all; the registrar's licence is neither better nor worse than the Church licence. The registrar's presence at a marriage gives no security, as he has no special knowledge that the parties are competent to marry, while the certainty that they do marry is secured by registration. Since the registrar fails to give publicity to the initiatory steps of marriage, it would be well to dispense with him altogether till he receives from the officiating minister the copy of the marriage certificate. The condition of this concession, placing all licensed ministers on a foot with the established clergy, should be that the former will give the same publicity of banns as the latter do. The publicity will then be inferior, as no other congregation is so public as the parish church. It is proposed to introduce into Ireland the system of civil publication and registration of marriage, but without that interference by a civil officer with a religious act that has caused the confusion between a civil and a religious marriage. There is to be a form of marriage before a registrar when parties decline a religious ceremony; but all denominations may celebrate marriage in their own chapels without the intrusion of a civil officer. Publicity is secured by publication of banns in the chapel which the parties usually frequent, and where the marriage is to be celebrated. Presbyterians and Methodists are to have quasi-surrogates to grant licences. The hours for celebrating a marriage are extended to 2 p.m. for Church, Presbyterians, and Methodists; and registration follows, as in the English law. These concessions are good, but they leave the whole law on one side too loose, on the other too strict. The Romish priests are still allowed to marry at all times and in all places without preliminary of banns or licence. The strictness is in requiring that the parties, or one of them, shall be married only by one of their own creed. Were all sects equally under the law, there would be no reason why a Roman, a Presbyterian, or a Methodist should not marry any two persons of any other communion, just as the Established Clergy may. The difficulty is with the Romans, though here there is offence enough, when removed, to make a good compromise. Regarding marriage as a sacrament, they will not be limited where or when to celebrate it. But we have shown that the law of the Church of Rome is quite rational on this subject, treating the priest as witness to, rather than as celebrant of, marriage. The Concordat should run thus: the priest should give security to the State by adopting rules of notice, time, and place; the State to allow priests to marry Protestants in Ireland and England, and in the latter country to be rid of the registrar till after the marriage. Thus the practice of the two countries in this important particular would correspond, and the law would conform to its original, as nearly as the variety of opinion and the uniformity of self-will can permit. Body-snatchers. OD'S Acre has always commanded the reverence of both Christian and Heathen. Whatever measure of belief or of scepticism may pertain to a man, he cannot well tolerate the thought that those whom he has loved are treated after death with indignity. Here in happy England there are few scenes so beautiful as a country churchyard. It is pleasant to pass a summer hour among the green mounds of such a rural resting-place-to study the epitaphs, often quaint, often illiterate, always heartily loving and sincereto read the history of the village in the legends upon its tombstones. These modern days are revolutionizing England the railway-arteries which cross the island everywhere make isolation impossible: and it will soon be difficult to discover a line of peasants who have dwelt in the same village generation after generation. We have no quarrel with such progress. Perhaps it is well that society should become more mobile. The peasant's son may become Archbishop or Lord Chancellor: the boy who beat his schoolfellows at cricket on the green may surpass all England in some special development of intellect. It is well that this should be: there is no country save England in which it would be possible. We think with Wordsworth, that this nation is an aristocracy, born of "earth's best blood,"-that those who speak Milton's and Shakespeare's language need no higher titles. Yet may we be permitted some slight regret for the days when the peasant was as closely connected with the soil as the squire himself. And when we pass a summer afternoon amid the stone records, overgrown with moss and lichen, of a country churchyard, we feel that the time has been well spent. We may recognize no name among those thus chronicled-we may find no touch of poetry among the epitaphs-but we cannot fail to be impressed by the tranquil solemnity which always belongs to death. Is there any such feeling connected with the modern cemetery? When we enter any of those wholesale establishments for burial, the first sensation is displeasing. The word in its original, xoμnτngiov, “sleeping-place," is beautiful; but the modern adjuncts of it are distressing. Those who are happy enough to know that their graves will be dug close to their parish church, may think with pleasure that their beloved friends will pause and remember them on every Sunday and holy-day. Burial in a great cemetery severs such ties as these. The graves are arranged in classes: there is a superfluity of trim adornment, flimsy and unfeeling. Still, if there are cities there must be cemeteries: for burial within the walls of a London or a Liverpool is after awhile impossible. Cowley has a fine line : "God the first garden made, and the first city, Cain.” Out of the city has come the cemetery. The sexton of a cemetery, near Sheffield, has during the past month been accused of resurrectionism. Sheffield, an excitable town, appropriately represented by Mr. Roebuck, rose in hot haste against the man, and tore his house to pieces. We shall not enter into details with regard to his proceedings: it would be too revolting. It seems clear that for some unexplained purpose he kept corpses unburied: what ultimately became of them does not appear. But we suspect that he has been a mild disciple of Burke and Hare. Those two gentlemen, in their great zeal for the cause of science, did not scruple to commit murder. Better, they thought, that a few Scotch people should be put to death, than that anatomy should be incompletely studied. The Sheffield sexton seems to have thought likewise. He had a philosophical contempt for the mothers who wanted their children buried under God's earth: he conceived that they would be far more useful as " subjects" for the Medical School. This, at least, appears to have been his theory. Like some other "advanced" thinkers, he is not unlikely to suffer for being so far before the rest of the world. We should much like to know the exact amount of advantage which accrues to surgery from post-mortem anatomy. No one can think of such a mode of study without a shudder. Still, if the human race are largely benefited-if pain is saved and disease cured by reason of the revolting examination of dead bodies, which forms part of a surgical course-it would be absurd to set up a mere sentiment against a substantial advantage. It is, however, to be remembered that in France even worse things are done. The French surgeons teach by vivisection: dogs and other animals are dissected while yet alive! Can any necessity of science justify such horrible cruelty? It is proverbial that a first-rate surgeon should unite two qualities not often united: he should be tender and he should be resolute. The resolution we may find-but scarcely the tenderness-in a man who practises vivisection, or who cuts up dead bodies without troubling himself to inquire whence they come. We do not know what will happen to the Sheffield sexton: but any Sheffield surgeon who has been his customer deserves punishment far more severe. The body-snatching art has changed character of late years-like most other arts, reputable or disreputable. There was some romance about the dashing highwayman of sixty years ago, mounted on a thoroughbred, and daring enough to rob a mail-coach single-handed. His successor is the contemptible forger and swindler, as cowardly as he is dishonest. And, although to rob a grave is about as horrible a thing as any man could undertake, the mad medical students who in years gone by risked their own lives in such adventures were far less culpable than the smug surgeons who pay their ten guineas for a "shot, and profess to know nothing about the source from which it comes. Surgery must harden the heart and make the nerves callous: otherwise how could a man put his sharp steel into the body of his neighbour's child, whom the sorrow-stricken father fondly fancies to be lying beneath the graveyard turf? Loving fingers have been passed through that loose, damp hair; loving arms have encircled that chill decaying waist: but now the flesh is to be stripped from the bone by the surgeon's steel, and a scientific lecture is to be delivered on what a few days ago was human. Is there any religio medici? We make no protest against requisite dissection. We do not prejudge the case of the Sheffield sexton. We merely plead for the reduction to a minimum of such anatomical experiments. The State gives its dead criminals to the dissecting-knife. Deceased paupers are similarly treated, we believe, in some districts: and against this we protest, for surely poverty is not a crime. This opulent England acknowledges it her duty to save the poor from starvation; she has no right to exact payment from their dead bodies. But is a perpetual supply of bodies for dissection absolutely necessary to surgical instruction? And, if it is, whence come the sad number of corpses which must be found in order to supply all the surgical schools of Great Britain? These questions demand reply. For ourselves, we trust that we and those whom we love may lie beneath the shadow of the great yew-trees in our parish churchyard, beyond the reach of adventurous medical students, and many miles away from the dishonest cemetery sexton. SUMMARY OF EVENTS. UNE 3.-Mr. Stansfeld, M. P. for Halifax, brought forward the following resolution:"That, in the opinion of this House, the national expenditure is capable of reduction, without compromising the safety, the independence, or the legitimate influence of the country." Mr. Horsman, Lord R. Montagu, and Sir Fred. Smith, had severally given notice of amendments to this resolution, and Lord Palmerston had put the following amendment on the paper : : "That this House, deeply impressed with the necessity of economy in every department of the State, is, at the same time, mindful of its obligation to provide for the security of the country at home, and the protection of its interests abroad. "That this House observes with satisfaction the decrease which has already been effected in the national expenditure, and trusts that such further diminution may be made therein as the future state of things may warrant." After notice had been given of this last amendment, Mr. Walpole announced that, in the event of its being put to the House, he should move to substitute for the second paragraph the following words : "That this House trusts that the attention of the Government will be earnestly directed to the accomplishment of such further reductions, due regard being had to the defence of the country, as may not only equalise the revenue and expenditure, but may also afford the means of diminishing the burden of those taxes which are confessedly of a temporary and exceptional character." Before the commencement of the debate Lord Palmerston appealed to the other members who had given notice of amendments to withdraw them, and to allow the sense of the House to be taken solely on his amendment and that of Mr. Walpole, the success of which he should treat as a vote of want of confidence in the Government. Lord R. Montagu and Sir F. Smith consented. Mr. Stansfeld's original resolution was negatived by 367 to 65. And then Mr. Walpole also withdrew his amendment, on the ground that he had not intended it as equivalent to a vote of want of confidence in the Government, and could not take on himself the responsibility of proposing it after Lord Palmerston's announcement of his views respecting it. Consequently the Prime Minister's amendment was put as a substantive resolution, and carried without a division. June 3.-Debate at Turin in which a letter from Garibaldi complaining of the conduct of the Government was read. Rattazzi and General Bixio denied many of Garibaldi's assertions. Crispi, who supported Garibaldi, showed that the object of his party was an immediate invasion of the Austrian territories. The debate ended by a vote of confidence in Rattazzi's Administration by 189 to 33. June 5.-The Social Science Congress met for its sixth Annual Session. Full service in the morning in Westminster Abbey. The Dean of Chichester preached a sermon from 1 Kings v. 2. At the evening meeting in Exeter Hall, Lord Brougham, as president, delivered the inaugural address, in which he made the social condition. of women one of his most prominent topics. June 6.-A letter appeared in the English papers from General Klapka to Kossuth withdrawing his name from the Hungarian National Committee, and renouncing henceforth all intervention in the direction of the affairs of the Hungarian Emigrants. June 7.-Lord Cranworth pronounced the decision of the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council in the case. of the Rev. D. J. Heath, confirming the sentence of Dr. Lushington, that "Mr. Heath has maintained and affirmed doctrines contrary and repugnant to the Articles of the Church of England." And as Mr. Heath, who was present, declined to retract his language, the sentence of deprivation was confirmed with costs. June 7.-The Austrian Parliament came to a vote adverse to the ministry on a question of finance. In the beginning of the month news arrived that on May 20, the Canadian Parliament had thrown out the Bill for raising a present Militia force of 50,000 men, with a reserve of 50,000 more for the defence of the colony. In consequence of this vote the ministry of Mr. Cartier has resigned, and a new cabinet has been formed, of which Mr. Sawfield Macdonald in the Upper Province, and Mr. L. V. Sicotti in the Lower, are the leading members. They have dissolved the Parliament. Mr. Cartier, himself a man of French extraction, in the course of the debate, expressed a fear that the rejection of the Militia Bill would be looked upon by many as a proof of the disaffection of the French Canadians to the institutions of the country. The Federal Government in North America has issued a notification calling for 160,000 more soldiers, and continuing the offer of 100 dollars bounty, and of pay estimated at a shilling a-day more than that of an English soldier. June 9.-Intelligence of the defeat at Winchester of the Federal Commander, General Banks. June 13.-Lord Russell in one House, and Lord Palmerston in the other, denounced, in strong terms, General Butler's proclamation about the ladies at New Orleans. Lord Russell also, in reply to a question put to him by Lord Carnarvon, stated that no proposal for a joint mediation between the belligerents in America had been made by France, and that his own opinion was that any such proposal would at present be most unseasonable. June 14.-The Prince of Wales returned from his Eastern tour, and immediately joined the Queen at Windsor. June 14.-Intelligence of a great battle in front of Richmond, in which both parties claimed the victory; the Federals admitting the loss of baggage and artillery. June 17.-Earl Canning died. His death announced by Earl Granville the same evening in the House of Lords. June 18.-Intelligence is received that the Confederate fleet had been destroyed on the Mississippi, and Memphis in consequence surrendered to the Federals. The Confederates have also evacuated Corinth, and retreated towards the South. June 18.-Intelligence of a defeat of the French army in Mexico, and of its being driven back with heavy loss to Amozoc on the road to Vera Cruz, where it is fortifying its position. Extensive disease in their ranks. Large reinforcements are being prepared in France to be sent out without delay. June 25.-Judgment in Court of Arches in the cases of Bishop of Salisbury v. Williams, and Fendall v. Wilson. In the former case, the articles of the accusation relating to 1. Inspiration, 2. Justification, 3. Propitiation, were admitted by the judge, those relating to 1. Ideological construction of Scripture, and Messianic prophecies were rejected. In Fendall v. Wilson, several articles were rejected as insufficient to support a criminal charge. The articles 8 and 12 were directed to be reformed; the 14th, imputing denial of everlasting condemnation, was admitted. Leave of appeal given to prosecutor and to defendant in both cases. REVIEW S. Miss Sewell on Rome, Florence, and Turin. ITH the charming and characteristic inconsequence of her sex, Miss Sewell begins her book by admitting that she ought not to have published it. She avows her inability to offer any information that has not been given by hosts of other travellers, each learned in his own department, and declares that the chief wish of persons like herself must be to look, to enjoy, to form their own opinions, and "to be permitted to keep them to themselves.' She acknowledges that on art and a "vast number of other subjects" she is "conscious of not knowing what she does think;" and accounts for this unsatisfactory state of mind by remarking that she was too constantly engaged to have leisure for reflection, that her original impressions were "very vague and indefinite," and Impressions of Rome, Florence, and Turin, by the Author of Amy Herbert. London: Longman & Co., 1862. that she had neither the "time nor the energy to convert them into opinions before they were gone!" Amidst The loss, however, it appears was not total. this wreck of matter, as a printer's compositor might say, there still stands erect the figure of the Apollo Belvedere; and Miss Sewell triumphantly exclaims :-"I do know what I thought about that, because I took the trouble to inquire at the time." But after all, there is much to interest in these letters. Written originally for the amusement of her private friends, and then worked up by the help of Murray and Dr. Schmitz, with a little instruction for the sake of those unhappy young persons in the school-room for whom so many handbooks of useful knowledge are compiled, they are all that one has a right to expect, and that is saying a good deal, from an intelligent English gentlewoman. Candid and tolerant in tone, lively in description when she is really interested, and discriminating when she is really informed, free equally from fine-ladyism and strong-mindedness, Miss Sewell will please all those who care to revisit Italy in her company, and to compare her impressions and experience with their own. As to the class for whom her book is more especially designed, they cannot but be benefited by having placed before them a general sketch taken from their own point of view, of what they will probably some day see in detail for themselves, and may learn the importance of making good use of their days of youth and leisure. A With regard to the fine arts, indeed, many of the rising generation are in a better position for profiting by a visit to Rome and Florence than their predecessors were. knowledge of the general principles of art has been diffused within the last few years, which has produced a perceptible difference in the manner in which it is discussed in society. Technical criticism, though of great value when coming from certain sources, and when addressed to those who understand it, is of course perfectly useless to those who do not. One of the best examples of this style is Reynolds' account of his journey in Holland, but the extracts from his note-book describing pictures would be of no interest except to artists, simply because to every one else they would be unintelligible. Both in print and in conversation, remarks on art, until the last few years, made by those who had knowledge of the subject, were generally intended only for those who were in a similar position. For this there were several reasons, the chief of which perhaps was, that those who had arrived at this position shrunk from the labour of attempting to make a royal road for the ignorant. They knew that to give these latter the capacity to perceive as they did themselves, they would have to open the eyes of their understandings by establishing a whole series of propositions. They reasonably enough doubted the patience of their hearers, and their inclination to receive instruction in the matter. Besides, few even amongst artists were capable of giving this instruction, and they were too much occupied to do so. In saying, however, that there was not until lately any art criticism by those who were competent to make it, addressed to the public at large, we have not by any means forgotten that there has been some excellent writing of this sort to be found in the literature of the last eighty years. There are, for instance, the admirable Discourses of Reynolds; those also of his successors in the professor's chair, Fuseli, Opie, and Leslie; the Lectures of Haydon; the Essays on the metaphysics of art by Burke, Barry, Chesterfield, Walpole, and others. But still there was no royal road, and no hand-book to it: perhaps there never can be. Artists and their friends knew more or less about art, and talked about it more or less intelligently; but the public considered that to understand the aims of art was quite unnecessary to enable them to judge of its performances, that they could tell "what pleased themselves," and had a right to the enjoyment of their own "taste," which was, they thought, probably just as good as that of their neighbours. This absurd and pernicious doctrine, that taste is not to be disputed, is now happily not quite so implicitly believed as it was. People have become convinced that although there is no such thing as a court of chancery in matters of taste, there is a code of laws, laws not arbitrarily created, but founded by Nature herself, and to which our individual caprices must bow. The man to whom, it must be admitted, the credit is due of having spread amongst the community a certain amount of knowledge of art, and consequently an interest in it, is Mr. Ruskin. In spite of, or perhaps who knows-partly on account of his passionate vehemence, his overbearing and dogmatic manner, his affectation, and his very fine writing, he certainly has succeeded in making people listen to him. When he had himself acquired some acquaintance with the principles of art, he fortunately had the inclination and the leisure, which had been wanting to others, to become a teacher. He felt that he must begin at the beginning, and advance step by step, and having done so, the usual result followed. Both he and his pupil have made progress, and have enjoyed the road over which they have travelled. Drawingroom conversation on art is now sometimes more than mere ignorant chatter, a standard of taste is admitted, certain laws are assumed to exist, and a picture or statue has a chance of being really judged and appreciated. It is perhaps too much to hope that for a long time to come our newspapers will not contain a great deal of the worst possible sort of criticism for the public. On the principle of the minister in Scribe's play who gave his friend's son a place in the office of public instruction because he "didn't know anything," many writers constitute themselves art critics, and contrive to fill their allotted number of columns by a mere imitation of the technical talk of painting rooms. They do not understand what they say themselves, and the public do not either. But as the ladies of Addison's day liked mottoes in Greek, so many people still find a charm in the unknown, and at all events think the critic very profound. Although this style is utterly worthless, it has at least a negative merit. Persons who teach, and who are really anxious to teach, are rather apt to fall into an "earnest" tone. Mr. Ruskin, and still more Mr. Ruskin's imitators-of whom unluckily there are now many-are frequently guilty of this sort of writing. The imitators especially, with all the zeal of converts, and with all the self-complacency that freshly-acquired knowledge sometimes gives, having got hold of one or two "truths," new to them, hammer away at them with incredible perseverance, and endeavour to force them into the minds of a perverse generation by every variety of emphatic language. The well-wishers to the progress of art in this country may perhaps fear that this sort of thing will disgust the public; but it is an evil which must gradually work its own cure. Frederick the Great.* R. CARLYLE'S third volume commences with the accession of Frederick, on the death of his father, in June, 1740, and closes with the treaty which he made with France before the invasion of Bohemia in 1744. It seems that nearly 800 pages were needed to tell the story of these four years. They are certainly the most important years of Frederick's life, not because they exhibit great designs successfully carried out, but because on them any general estimate of his character must mainly be founded. The history of Frederick has been written and commented upon more than once already. But there is always room for a more minute statement of facts; and the possession of evidence which may correct even a wrong impression is a full justification for publishing it. Mr. Carlyle has carefully examined the career of Frederick; he has submitted the life of the man and the king to a microscopic analysis; he has made use of no second-hand authorities, and in the evi History of Frederick II. of Pruffia, called Frederick the Great. By Thomas Carlyle. Vol. III. London: Chapman and Hall. 1862. dence before him he has allowed nothing to escape his eye. The story will perhaps never be told with greater power or learning. Yet, after all, the main contrast between the long history of Mr. Carlyle and the short essay of Lord Macaulay lies in this, that the latter is a brilliant philippic, the former a detailed and careful eulogy. To say the least, Mr. Carlyle is quite as much a special pleader as Lord Macaulay, or, indeed, as any writer ever could be. He lives in a world of his own. He speaks not as other men speak. He is the apostle of something new, which Englishmen cannot very well understand, but of which, perhaps, it will do them good rather than harm to hear. He is vehemently earnest in enforcing his own conclusions, and he may have grounded these on definite convictions; but it is the necessary consequence of his position that they who do not accept his faith must be repelled by almost every word which is not confined to the mere statement of fact. The history of Frederick is not a mythical one; it involves no discussion of the laws of historical credibility. The facts can be readily ascertained: it may be admitted that Mr. Carlyle has ascertained them all. The question here is not whether we are to believe certain statements, but how we are to judge of certain deeds and the doers of them. Englishmen are now in the habit of thinking that the history of a nation does not always resolve itself into that of their rulers. that of their rulers. There is a growing feeling that treaties and settlements cannot fix national boundaries: that bounds only so assigned will not be permanent. They are accustomed to extend their sympathy to all attempts to recover liberty; and they see in the disruption of illcemented empires or confederations the evidence that national unity is not determined, nor even made, by accidental combination under a single government. But they have never doubted, at any time, that some forms of government are intrinsically to be preferred to others; and they have never concealed their own belief that a nation is not free unless it be self-governed. They have shown that constitutional liberty is the result of a very slow, although of very certain growth; and the history of the world seems generally to prove that very few peoples exhibit the capacity for this growth. Still Englishmen are very quick to use their own political convictions as a test for measuring the merits or defects of other governments, and to judge the acts of rulers and kings by their national standard of right and wrong. Looked at thus, Frederick the Great becomes a man who, after a very strange education, finds himself, while yet a youth, upon a throne, and whose reign, after a very few months of peace, exhibits mainly a series of wars. The opening of his reign shows just enough of promise to give point to the romance of Mr. Carlyle; the sequel of his career exhibits just enough of iniquity to lend a colour to the romance of Lord Macaulay. We are not charging the former with inventing, or even with misrepresenting, a single fact: but we ask how we are to judge of Frederick's life, or whether we are to give up the task as hopeless. According to Mr. Carlyle, he no sooner found himself king than he set to work to make all his subjects happy. It is true that what he did has been done by other rulers, whom we do not therefore particularly praise, and some of whom we call usurpers, or despots, or tyrants; but in Frederick they show, somehow or other, a "fine veracity of character," and a "complete respect for fact." Provisions were not cheap: so he opened corn-magazines, and ordered grain to be sold out at reasonable rates to the poor. He did away with what at the least was never legal in England, the use of torture in criminal trials. He set up an academy of sciences, and hunted about for philosophers, as his father had hunted about for giants. He wished his people to hear news: so he estabfished some newspapers; and the freedom of the press, not granted "in any quite official or steady way," had under him "a kind of real existence, though a fluctuating and ambiguous one." In short, his veracity and respect for fact showed itself in "a marked disinclination to concern himself with censorship, or the shackling of poor |