A Weekly Review of Literature and Life. No. 1450. Established 1869. The Literary Week. 17 February, 1900. MR. HERBERT SPENCER will complete his eightieth year in April. A birthday address is being prepared in Australia, which will be signed alike by those who accept Mr. Spencer's philosophy and by those whom it has merely stimulated to opposition. ON Sunday, February 25, the Stage Society will give a performance of Ibsen's "The League of Youth." There is a play, now in MS., which is well within the Society's scheme-indeed, an ideal candidate for their consideration. We refer to "The Egoist." Adapted and arranged by Mr. Alfred Sutro, it is an open secret that the dialogue, which Mr. Sutro has drawn from the book, has been revised, and sometimes rewritten, by Mr. Meredith. The play is in five acts, and those who were present at a private reading last Monday speak enthusiastically of its dramatic interest and force. THE death mask of a girl, supposed to have been found drowned in the Seine, which gave Mr. Le Gallienne the idea for The Worshipper of the Image, is a reality. Discovered by a prowler after curiosities some time ago in a shop near Covent Garden, purchased by him, and hung in his rooms, the beauty of the cast sent many to the shop. Verses were written to this pretty, pathetic Unknown; she suggested a subject for one of our "Things Seen"; and now a book has been composed around her. As our advertisement columns show, the books about South Africa and the War are many and various, including one by Mr. Frank Harris, wherein the late editor of the Saturday Review entangles Dr. Johnson, Carlyle, George Washington, and Lord Randolph Churchill in the discussion. In a few days books descriptive of the actual fighting will be ready. That by Mr. Steevens may well claim to be the most important. Called From Cape Town to Ladysmith: an Unfinished Record of the South African War, it will contain a long, final chapter by Mr. Vernon Blackburn, which will take the form of a record of the public interest and sympathy that Mr. Steevens's untimely death evoked. MR. BENNETT BURLEIGH, we hear, has also a book nearly finished, and then there is Mr. Winston Spencer Churchill's narrative of his capture and escape from Pretoria. Mr. Alfred Kinnear also announces a volume, which will be called To Modder River with Methuen. THE war has disturbed ordinary publishing, but Messrs. Methuen have evolved a method of making it help the sale of novels. In the new sixpenny story of their "Novelist" Library, Prisoners of War, by Mr. A. Boyson Weekes, will be found the offer of a prize of £100 to the reader who names the day and the month on which the Peace will be signed. There is the usual Coupon arrangement, and the result will be published in a future volume of the "Novelist" Library. Price Threepence. [Registered as a Newspaper.] WHAT with his history of the reconquest of the Soudan, his brilliant work as war correspondent of the Morning Post, his forthcoming War book, and his novel, Savrola, the son of Lord Randolph Churchill is in no danger of being overlooked. The hero of Savrola is a young democrat, popular idol, orator, statesman, and fighter. This is Mr. Churchill's description of Savrola's library: It was a various library: the philosophy of Schopenhauer divided Kant from Hegel, who jostled the Memoirs of St. Simon and the latest French novel; RASSELAS and LA CURIE lay side by side; eight substantial volumes of Gibbon's famous History were not perhaps inappropriately prolonged by a fine edition of the DECAMERON; the ORIGIN OF SPECIES rested by the side of a black-letter Bible; THE REPUBLIC maintained an equilibrium with VANITY FAIR and the HISTORY OF EUROPEAN MORALS. A volume of Macaulay's Essays lay on the writing-table itself; it was open, and that sublime passage whereby the genius of one man has immortalised the genius of another was marked in pencil. And history, while for the warning of vehement, high, and daring natures, she notes his many errors, will yet deliberately pronounce that among the eminent men whose bones lie near his, scarcely one has left a more stainless, and none a more splendid name. A LITERARY curiosity will be found in the Strand Magazine for February. The last of the late Mr. Grant Allen's Hilda Wade episodes was not finished at his death. Dr. Conan Doyle has completed the story upon lines which were laid down by Mr. Grant Allen himself in conversation. The arrangement recalls Mr. Quiller-Couch's more arduous completion of St. Ives. BETWEEN his sonnet sequence, The Silence of Love (published last year), and his new volume of poems Without and Within (now in the press), Mr. Edmond Holmes has issued an essay of a hundred pages on the question What is Poetry? It is refreshing to find a poet of to-day asking, and trying to answer, a question of such antiquity and breadth. We shall return to Mr. Holmes's little book. Meanwhile, dipping into it, we are glad to find him. protesting against a notion which is now common that the diction of poetry requires constant renewal; that golden, for instance, the only English word which really describes sunlight, is worn out and must be replaced by amber, saffron, or yellow-words which convey less and, under a replacement theory, must themselves decay and be ousted. Mr. Holmes also holds that the effort to introduce exact, as distinct from vague, words into poetry is doomed to failure. "Vague words stir emotion; exact terms repress it. . . ." MR. PUNCH this week makes a moving appeal on behalf of the Hospital for Sick Children in Great Ormond-street. This is the oldest and largest children's hospital in London, yet its funds are now so low that unless money is quickly raised its doors will have to be closed. Mr. Punch says he does not quote "Pay, pay, pay," but urges everybody, everywhere, to "Give, give, give." Donations should be sent to Messrs. Bradbury, Agnew & Co., Bouverie street. THE war is producing reprints as well as new books. Among the former is a facsimile reproduction of a very curious old pamphlet called The Souldiers Catechisme, printed in 1644. Only two copies of this Catechism are known to exist. The Rev. Walter Begley is the possessor of one, and he is the editor of the reprint now put forth by Mr. Elliot Stock. The author of this curious work is unknown, but his aim is sufficiently clear. The Puritan soldiers of Cromwell were peace-loving men, with a natural and acquired abhorrence of war. These men had to be convinced that it was right for them to fight, and that the sword they were asked to draw was really the sword of the Lord and of Gideon. Mr. Begley thinks that the Catechism was "probably written to order at the suggestion of the chiefs of the Puritan Party. . . . It was evidently meant to be a companion to what is known as Cromwell's Pocket Bible of the year before (1643)." PRACTICALLY The Souldiers Catechisme has been unknown and unquoted for three hundred years. Its character and aims may be judged by the following questions and answers: Q. W Hat are the principall things required in a Souldier? 2. That he be couragious and valiant. 3. 3 That he be skilfull in the Militarie Profeffion. Q. How do you prove that oar fouldiers fhould be religious? A. 1. By Scripture: Deut. 23.9. Luk. 3.14. 2. Befides, there be many Reasons to confirme it. 1. Because they lie fo open to death. 2. They ftand in continuall need of Gods affiftance. 3. They fight for Religion and Reformation. 4. God hath rais'd them up to execute juftico. 5. Men may be as religious in this Profeffion as in any other. 6. We read of brave fouldiers that have been very religious. 7. A well ordered Camp is a Schoole of Vertue, wherein is taught, 1. Preparation to death, 2. Continencie, 3. Vigilancie, 4. Obedience, 5. Hardneffe, 6. Temperance, 7. Humilitie, 8. Devotion, &c. LAST week we referred to Dr. Furnivall's recently expressed opinion (which has, of course, been shared and uttered by many) that the English language is destined to over-run the civilised world, gradually ousting all others. An unconscious tribute to the reasonableness of this prediction is furnished by an extraordinary scheme, recently put forth by a writer in the Revue des Revues, for vitalising and preserving the French language. This writer (M. Jean Finot) thinks that the only way by which to restore the ascendancy of his native tongue is to make it more than ever the language of literature. In short, he would make the French language a kind of literary asylum or receiving-house to which writers of all nations might commit their thoughts. Recognising that in all countries there are many gifted men who cannot hope to become "articulate," and that there are countries like Russia and Italy where even the greatest writers can command only small notice in their native tongue, M. Finot goes on to ask: Does not this condition present a grand opportunity to France? Let her accept the noble and generous role of introducer of all the talents which are being stifled in the narrow atmosphere of their own country. Let our literature, besides her own virtues and beauties, become the godmother of the literatures and authors of the Great Unknown,” and she will thereby attach to herself and to her own destiny numbers of other tongues and cultivators of letters. In a word, we dream of making France once more the great reservoir of intellectual humanity, where every production or idea of value, elevation, or originality shall find a country of adoption. In this way Russians, Italians, Poles, Swedes, Danes, Greeks, Finlanders, Roumanians, Servians, Bulgarians, and many other peoples, would, alike from necessity and gratitude, be induced to study French and its literature. The idea is rather fine, and of late years it has even been, to a small and natural extent, in process of realisation. Yet surely, at bottom, it begs the question. For if the unwritten thoughts of Poles, Roumanians, and the rest, clamour to be read, surely they will flow, of their own volition, into the soundest and most capacious vessel-that is to say, into English. PARENTS and schoolmasters who are in search of a good selection of poetry for children of, say, thirteen years and upwards will do well to look at The New English Poetry Book (Horace Marshall & Son), which has just been compiled by Mr. E. G. Speight. The pieces chosen are at once satisfying and germinative, and we are glad to see that Mr. Speight considers his work done when he has made the selection. There are no notes, only a short glossary, and we heartily echo Mr. Speight's wish that "the children be allowed to read without fear of the ordeal of examination, that their likes and dislikes be respected, and that ample trust be reposed in their power of assimilation." The book opens with some lyrics of Shakespeare, Herrick, Beaumont and Fletcher, and other Elizabethans. There is a sprinkling of old ballads. What could be better than the ballad of Sir Patrick Spens? "I saw the new moon, late yestreen, With the auld moon in her arm; And if ye gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm." Sir Patrick and his merry men all But they hadna sailed upon the sea When the life grew dark, and the wind blew loud, And gurly grew the sea. The poetry of to-day is represented in selections from Mr. Swinburne, Mr. Henley, Mr. Bridges, William Morris, and T. E. Brown. Mr. Henley is presented as a poet of the sea to young Britons: The full sea rolls and thunders In glory and in glee; Oh, bury me not in the senseless earth, But in the living sea! Ay, bury me where it surges A thousand miles from shore, THE birth-rate of new papers is abnormally high; even doctors are contributing to it. The Physician and Surgeon is a new high-class medical weekly review. Its aim is to treat of all medical events and subjects in a style somewhat more broad and modern than that which is found in medical papers established many years ago. This aim is intelligible, it also spells difficulty; but the first number of the Physician and Surgeon inspires confidence in the methods and ability of its promoters. AMONG magazines which enjoy less fame than they deserve is the Friends' Quarterly Examiner (West, Newman & Co.), which has just begun its thirty-third year of issue, in a new cover and under new editorship. In the Examiner will be found from time to time articles of real weight and charm, by such writers as Dr. Thomas Hodgkin, Prof. Rendel Harris, Dr. Robert Spence Watson, Mr. Jonathan Hutchinson, and other well-known writers whose connexion with the Society of Friends is perhaps not The magazine represents all the generally known. widened ideals and sympathies of Quakerism; thus, a paper on the "Cultivation of Artistic Taste," which might have astonished the readers of twenty years ago, is now a typical contribution. WE are always ready to find wit in a new undergraduate magazine. But in the Alma Mater, a new Cambridge production, this quality is lacking, and is replaced by no other. Indeed, Alma Mater seems born of the mere itch to write, or, shall we say, the itch to edit. Essays on "The Tyranny of Tipping,' "The Delights of Dancing," "Drones," &c., are the fare provided, and they are written in the old, old amateur style, flicked with phrases of the hour. We really wonder how anyone can care to print such remarks as the following: The contempt of an Autocrat for a humble slave is far surpassed by that pompous air of magnificent disdain shown by a waiter who has been paid sixpence for a sixpenny drink. Does the last-mentioned individual imagine that some consolation of a pecuniary nature is due to him, owing to his sublime condescension in humbling himself by bringing to us so plebeian a combination as a Scotch-and-Soda ? Woe betide the man who does not tip; he will be lucky if he gets his luncheon lukewarm, or his drink in half-anhour. The writer was once in a London restaurant, and by some mischance forgot to make the accustomed offering, and he has not yet forgotten the looks of scorn cast at him by the assembled minions. MESSRS. METHUEN will publish, in a few days, a new edition of A Book of Irish Verse, an anthology of Irish poetry collected by Mr. W. B. Yeats. Mr. Yeats has revised and partly rewritten the introductory account of the Irish poets, and added a preface dealing with the literary movement in Ireland, and with the movement for the preservation of the Irish language. The book also contains some new poems which have appeared since the first edition was issued. "THE Decorative Art of Sir Edward Burne-Jones, Bart.," will be the subject of this year's Easter Art Annual (the Easter number of the Art Journal). The letterpress will be written by Mr. Aymer Vallance. A WRITER in the New York Nation explores the field of Hindu proverbial philosophy with interesting results. The similarity of thought between the proverbs of ancient India and those now in use in modern Europe is curious. Thus, no one will need to be reminded of the English counter-parts of the following proverbs, taken from a recent collection of Marathi popular sayings: If you kill, kill an elephant; if you rob, rob the treasury. Wake not the sleeping tiger. Excavate a mountain, and take out a rat. A gift cow: why has it no teeth? As the watercourse goes, so the water will run. Rochefoucauld's bitter saying, that there is something in the misfortunes of our nearest friends not wholly displeasing to us, is bluntly anticipated in the Marathi proverb: "Our goods are destroyed, our friends laugh." The untrustworthiness of averages is embalmed in a saying which has its origin in an old story. A traveller asked a wise man how deep was the river he had to cross. scholar answered correctly, "The average depth is up to the knee." The traveller began to ford the stream and in its deep middle was drowned, the sage's answer remaining as a proverb on the misleading nature of averages. The MR. FRANCIS EDWARDS, of High-street, Marylebone, has shown enterprise in issuing a special and lengthy catalogue of military books which his shelves contain. Most of the books offered related to the wars of the nineteenth century, and in all about a thousand works are catalogued. ONE might sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the deaths of "series "-how some have . . . and some . . . and some . . . But there are series which really go on, and have unity and purpose. Such a one is Messrs. Newnes's "Library of Useful Stories." The number of volumes it contains is approaching thirty, and let those mock at useful information who will-the set forms a little library of sound and simple knowledge. "The Story of the Stars," "The Story of the Weather," "The Story of British Coinage," "The Story of Ice"-how many are familiar with these stories? We are now offered "The Story of Life's Mechanism," a biological primer embodying and simplifying, within its limits, the latest conclusions of scientists-a most useful addition to a well-conceived series. 1044 KIPLING (RUDYARD) ECHOES, BY TWO WRITERS, in the original wrapper, with the autograph of Alice Kipling (R. Kipling's Mother) ib. (1884) One of the scarcest of Kipling's writings privately printed while he was a young man on the staff of the "Civil and Military Gazette." There are the following inscriptions in pencil at the beginning and end of some of the poems: "J. L. K." "Swinburne, R. K." Amorphous Modern Poetaster, R. K." "Joaquin Miller's Arizonian, R. K.” and "Written at School, R.K." 1045 KIPLING (RUDYARD) DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES, and other Verses, the extremely rare FIRST EDITION, printed at the "Civil and Military Gazette" Press, Lahore, fine copy_in_the original wrapper, with the front flap on the front of cover is the inscription "Mrs. Kipling." (no. 1 of 1886) AMONG recent parodies we have enjoyed an imitation of Mr. Kipling by the "Arbiter "'-a creation of the fertile H. B. The "Arbiter" is giving his views from week to week in the Speaker. It is my custom when I deal with the Arbiter to ask set questions as though he were a book and I were a prig. It goes against the grain, but I notice that all the Arbiter's circle do it, especially John Doughty, the man with the wooden head. So I asked the Arbiter very solemnly: "What do you think was the chief mark of the nineteenth century; now past?" A good thick question in the middle-class manner has the same effect on the Arbiter that a glass of cold water has on a sleeping man. He seemed to change his whole being, and replied in a very constrained fashion, “I should say it was sham. The attempt to seem more learned than you are especially, and hence the allusive style. . . . "What's the allusive style?" I asked. The Arbiter, with the gesture of an overfed lion aroused from deep slumber, uncoiled from his easy chair, and fetched down one of the prose works of the Bard of Empire (if, indeed, such a poet can be said to write prose at all). 66 'Listen to this," he said. in "The king-bolt flew through the massy grease-choke till the pivot caught the eccentric just under the pinwheel. McArthur watched with his eyes trundling from his head like Dagawharri berries. "My- "he screamed, ??? My It can't hold!” Then the sob of a young teething child escaped him, and I saw the thyroid process coupling on the ganglion in his great throat, and he sobbed gingerly as the Gentle Sarah took it over on the port, and settled to the swing of the water!' That's the allusive style," he said simply. "Well, I call it very fine," said I. "I'm told that was read to an optician and an analyst, and they both cried, it was so accurate." "Don't you worry," said the Arbiter, "He got it all out of the Technical Dictionary. Do you suppose he'd know the meaning of any of those words if you woke him up in the middle of the night and taxed him with it? Why he'd cry for mercy!" Bibliographical. DR. A. H. JAPP reveals, by advertisement, the fact, that of four books lately published by him three bore on their title-pages a pseudonym-that of "A. N. Mount Rose," or that of "A. F. Scot." It is a little surprising that pseudonyms are not more largely in use, in literary circles, than they are. The working man of letters, to gain a living by book-production, must publish frequently; and if he always puts his name to his publications that name stands a very good chance of becoming, in time, obnoxious both t readers and to reviewers, who are apt to be bored by repetition. The late W. B. Rands had no fewer than three noms-de-guerre-"Matthew Browne," "Henry Holbeach," and "Timon Fieldmouse." We know that the late Mr. Grant Allen had more than one. And very wisely, too— the more especially in those cases where the writer is a specialist in several departments. The world is apt to look askance at versatility, murmuring to itself the old adage about "Jack of all trades and master of none." That, I believe, is one reason why Bulwer Lytton failed to impress his countrymen permanently. It appears that the little pamphlet-full of verse called Wagers of Battle, by Franklin and Henry Lushington, consists for the most part of a reprint of some lyrics entitled Points of War, published by these authors in the days of the Crimean campaign. Only two of the pieces are new" Lucknow, A.D. 1857," and "A.D. 1899, Play Out the Game," both from the pen of the surviving brother, Sir Franklin. Somebody with leisure should write an account of English war poetry-I mean, of poetry contemporary with our wars, and immediately suggested by them. This would limit the field, for, of course, a good deal of our martial verse has been retrospective in view and subject. In our own days one remembers such things as Dobell's Sonnets of the War, Gerald Massey's Havelock's March, and so forth, not omitting the war poems of the Miss Louisa Shore of whom I wrote last week. I gather from the preface to Mr. Pemberton's book on The Kendals that Mrs. Kendal was unwilling that she should be made the subject of biography. This coyness was, I am sure, perfectly sincere. It does not, however, wholly square with the fact that about a decade ago Mrs. Kendal published a little work, practically autobiographical, called Dramatic Opinions, which had previously appeared in Murray's Magazine. It was issued here by Mr. Murray, and in America by Messrs. Little & Brown. To the American edition Mrs. Kendal prefixed a dedication to her daughters Daisy, Ethel and Dorothy, signed "Your devoted mother," and quite of a "personal" nature. Why, indeed, should a leading actress refuse to discourse, or be discoursed about, so long as there is no indiscreet revelations of purely private matters? 66 Mr. C. D. Trantom, of Liverpool, has been good enough to let me see a copy of the "Calendar of Meredithian Philosophy for 1898 " which he compiled and printed for private circulation only." Each day has its aphorism, or epigram, or quotation of some sort, the selection being made from thirteen of the novels, the "Tale of Chloe volume, the "Selected Poems,' and the "Essay on Comedy." These are all mentioned at the back of the "Calendar," with the names of their publishers. Mr. Trantom could have had, of course, no difficulty in finding material for his purpose; there would be, rather, an embarrassment of riches. The result is eminently interesting and suggestive, and one could wish that some such "Calendar,' Calendar," which need not be confined to any particular year, were within the reach of the general public. Miss Alma Tadema, who is to have a little play of her own produced in London next week, has already displayed her interest in things dramatic by her translations into English of Maeterlinck's "Pelléas et Mélisande" and "Les Aveugles." These appeared in a volume of the "Scott Library," with a preface exhibiting a keen appreciation of Maeterlinck and his work. The issue of a treatise on the question, What is Poetry? must needs remind all students of belles-lettres of the delightful variety to be found in the extant pronouncements on that subject. Nearly every literary critic of eminence, from Aristotle to Matthew Arnold, has had his say thereon, and it is hardly too much to assert that no two of them agree upon essentials. It would be a useful thing if someone would bring together the views of the most noted experts, and analyse and compare them. The time is ripe for such a work. Until Mr. Holmes came forward, Mr. Watts-Dunton had seemed to have said the last word upon the topic; but his dissertation, unhappily, is not obtainable in separate and handy form. When, the other day, I advised theatrical managers to follow the example set by Mr. George Alexander in distributing a "chronicle" of his present playhouse, the St. James's Theatre, I assumed, of course, that the history would in any case be accurately written. In the case of the St. James's the narrative is disfigured by several misprints and at least one misstatement. We have, for instance, "Daluna for "Duenna," "Vanderhoff for "Vandenhoff," "Dorincourt" for "Doricourt," and "Angus Reece" for "Angus Reach." The play of "The Dean's Daughter" is described as "adapted from a popular novel by Mr. Sidney Grundy." As a matter of fact, Mr. Grundy and Mr. F. C. Philips joined in adapting a novel by the latter. Altogether, this brochure is disappointing, and I cannot recommend it as a model for imitation. THE BOOKWORM. Reviews. An Engaging Visionary. Life and Letters of Ambrose Phillipps de Lisle. By Edmund Sheridan Purcell, Edited and Finished by Edwin de Lisle. 2 vols. (Macmillan. 25s. net.) AMBROSE DE LISLE, born in 1803, was the eldest son of a Leicestershire squire. To a strain of Huguenot blood on his mother's side may perhaps be attributed the note of mysticism which distinguished his temperament. His health did not allow of his entering a public school, and he received his early education at a private academy, where the gentle influence of an emigré priest. M. Giraud, dispelled the prejudice against the Roman Antichrist in which he had been nurtured by an evangelical uncle. The reaction was pushed further by a visit to the cathedral of Paris in 1823; and that same year, when he had reached the serious age of thirteen, true Antichrist was manifested to him during one of his solitary rambles. "All of a sudden [he declared] I saw a bright light in the heavens, and I heard a voice, which said: Mabomet is the Antichrist, for he denieth the Father aud the Son.' O my return home in the next holidays I looked for a Koran, and there I found these remarkable words: God neither begetteth nor is begotten. This theory he elaborated in later life, and upon it based an argument in favour of Mr. Gladstone's Eastern policy and much violent denunciation of the Ottoman Empire, of which he prophesied that it must come to an end in 1898 ! It was characteristic of De Lisle that, having been received into the Church, he permitted his life to be shaped largely by the vaticination of a Roman recluse, one Marco Carricchia. For fifteen years this venerable personage had been praying, in terms that witnessed rather to the fervour of his faith than to his progress in humility: "O, my God! give me these two great powers, England and Russia." He assured the young convert that he was the instrument chosen of God for the conversion of England. "And know this for certain," added the holy man, "that you shall not see death till you have seen all England united to the Catholic Faith." The peculiarity of this prophecy is that, falsified in the event, it has nevertheless been put on record. The prophetaster had spoken of "a great movement of learned men of that kingdom," as the sign that the time was ripe; and the Oxford Movement answered reasonably well to such a description. The Conversion of England had been made the object of special intercession by Gregory XIII.; by St. Philip Neri, the founder of the Oratory; by M. Olier, the founder of St. Sulpice; and, among many other venerable names, by St. Francis of Sales. The Father of the Passionists, too, St. Paul of the Cross, had been a steadfast intercessor, and in Father Ignatius (Spencer), a recent convert and a member of that Order, was found an ardent apostle of the same cause. Europe resounded with prayer for the spiritual welfare of England. The movement at Oxford was the manifest answer, and the enthusiastic gentleman was presently constituted a channel of communication between its leaders and the Roman authorities. In his belief in its possibilities he found himself, of course, in a minority; for the old Catholic families regarded it with distrust and contempt, and their organs in the press loaded it with clumsy ridicule. Among those who, with De Lisle, recognised the earnestness and sincerity of Newman and his disciples was Lord Shrewsbury, to whom in 1811 the sanguine squire wrote: I have been for some time now engaged in close correspondence with some of the leaders of the Catholick party at Oxford, to which I can only allude in general terms, as it is strictly confidential; . . . but of this you may rest assured, that the reunion of the Churches is certain. Mr. Newman has received the adhesion of several hundreds of the Clergy: this is publickly known, and therefore I state it. He believed in the validity of Anglican ordinations, and recounts with confidence how Newman, celebrating at St. Mary's, was permitted "to see our Lord in the Host." The Association for Promoting the Union of Christendom was founded to give effect to the project of Corporate Reunion, and De Lisle was its principal advocate with Cardinal Barnabò. But he had overlooked the fatal flaw in its constitution-the implication, inadmissible from the Roman standpoint, that the Church is divided. The Association was condemned by the Holy Office in 1857. It was consistent with his general outlook that, against Manning and Ward, he took a liberal line on the question of permitting Catholics to enter the national universities, on the advisability of defining the papal infallibility, and on the question of the temporal power. This last, as a part of his theory of Antichrist, he saw prefigured in the text of the Apocalypse: "And the woman [the Church] fled into the wilderness [entered into the world], where she had a place prepared by God [Rome], that there they should feed her a thousand two hundred and sixty days, which is the time allotted by Daniel to the dominion of the Little Horn-which is Mahomet. The temporal power of the popes, that is to say (prefigured in the phrase, "that they should feed her "), was a providential but temporary breakwater against the rising flood of Islam. And as to the famous Syllabus of Pius IX. he scrupled not to write : The idea of the modern civilised world accepting it as a rule of conduct, if it ever entered into the narrow and prejudiced conception of some besotted theologian in the obscure corner of a darkened cell, it is too ridiculous to be entertained by any serious thinker who knows what is passing in the outer world. Newman once proclaimed that while the Anglican appeal was to antiquity, it was rather upon her ubiquity that Rome's claim rested. But De Lisle was one of a group to whom antiquity was all in all. The life at Garendon was toned to mediæval shades, and in consequence of the squire's intercourse with the leaders of the new departure in the Established Church the place was a focus of the Ritualistic movement. "It was what we saw carried out in your beautiful chapel," wrote the Protestant Bishop of Brechin with enthusiasm, "that first inspired most of us to imitate it, so far as in our sad circumstances we were able to do." The offices of the Church were performed with conscientious exactitude, and the strains. of figured music never profaned the echoes of the chapel. The plain song was rendered from a Gradual compiled by De Lisle himself for the use of village choirs who, unfortunately, found it quite unintelligible owing to its being printed in black letter! In De Lisle, when he looked upon the screen and rood, Pugin discerned "a Christian after my own heart"; and into his sympathetic bosom the tumultuous architect poured his confidences, rather after the manner of Boythorn. "Do not deceive yourself, my dear friend," he shouts in one of his epistles, "do not deceive yourself: the Catholics will cut their own throats, the clergy will put down religion." This when Propaganda had condemned vestments of his designing. At first he had hopes of "the Oxford men"; but, to his disgust, with their Protestantism they left behind them, when they entered the Church, their taste for Gothic also. De Lisle was almost as violent as his friend, and at one time Newman must write a serious remonstrance in order to compose differences of opinion between him and Father Faber which had issued in something like a deliberate malediction of the Oratory. Such occasional extravagancies apart, De Lisle lived a blameless life, directed towards high aims, happy in his marriage, in his numerous offspring, and in his friendsthe men most distinguished in their time for earnestness of religious conviction and purpose. The influence of such |