the Cardinal. Something indeed may be urged in behalf of the sonorous
wickedness of those instructions in which he betrays his spirit, in the
strongest passage of the book. It matters not what {143} cause we take
up, provided we defend it well--that is Probabilism. It matters not
what wrong we do in a good cause--that again is the maxim that the end
justifies the means, which, like Probabilism, was just then in the
ascendant. It matters not whether the cause for which we sin is
religion or policy--even that is paralleled by the way in which the
French Jesuits, all but one, supported Richelieu in his alliance with
the Protestants, in the Thirty Years' War. But it is the character of
an exceptional Jesuit, not a type. It is not indicated that he goes
wrong from the worthiest motive; that the disinterested spirit of
religion, which to other men is a safeguard, is as fatal to him as
vulgar passions to other men. The true Jesuit falls better than that.
His decay begins at the top. He does not find his way to
Malebolge[174] until a guide misleads him whom he takes for an angel of
light. The sordid, lying, selfish, ambitious specimen does not appear
unless grafted on a fanatical stock. The essence that vitiates so much
discipline and virtue is so subtle that we seldom feel the resemblance
when Jesuits are portrayed from outside.
The author seems hardly to detect his own rogue. When Hall coolly
announces that a lie must be told which will cause a man's death, and
is therefore equivalent to murder, it is not clear whether this is
infamous or not. For Charles betrays Glamorgan as his son afterwards
betrayed Montrose, and we are still expected to revere him as something
better than the enemies who, to save their necks, resorted to Pride and
Bradshaw. So again, speaking of Laud and Strafford, he implies that if
they were unsuccessful tyrants, they were no tyrants at all. That is,
to be a tyrant, you must {144} succeed, just as, to be a rebel, you
must fail. The model of tyrants is Caesar Borgia. When he was down,
Machiavelli, who had thought him worth attentive study, said to him
that he wondered so good a player should have lost the game. He
answered that he had foreseen every combination except that of himself
being prostrate with illness when the crash came. That miscalculation
would become his excuse.
If this propensity to absolve royal and loyal culprits comes from
sympathy with them, it seems to me no better than the crooked canon of
Macaulay, Carlyle, and Froude. The standard, in another place, is a
low one: The priest who invites Inglesant not to die with a lie in his
mouth reminds him that they subordinated their religion to their
political intrigues. But what if they subordinated politics to their
religious interest? To waver about ship money until one knows whether
Charles or Hampden is on the side of one's Church is dishonesty. To
have no moral test of duty apart from religion is to be a fanatic.
What Inglesant imputes to the Catholics is very near the definition of
an honest man. For reasons less obvious I am not satisfied with the
character of Inglesant. We learn in the first volume, p. 34, that he
never formally joined the Church of Rome; and in the second, p. 318,
that he must have been formally received into it. There is a more
serious contradiction still. His life is singularly blameless and
heroic, but one does not perceive the safeguard. Three channels by
which God speaks to the soul are excluded. Inglesant will do anything
but read the Bible. He has never studied to distinguish the voice of
the Church, the constancy of her teaching, the line of least
resistance, the law that regulates her movements. Conscience is a word
that does not occur during the first 200 pages of {145} religious
training. Then she asks him, what if they ask him to do something that
his conscience cannot approve? He very truly answers that it is too
late to think of that. Then the word returns two or three times, but
the idea is gone. We repeatedly find that he knows not right from
wrong, and is not scared by sin. When reminded of the horrors of the
Inquisition he calmly observes: Not one of these practices but has some
shadow of truth in it. A priest, defending imaginary relics, says:
These things are true to each of us according as we see them.
Inglesant is content, and does not ask who invents or promotes the
fable. Having, with some pains, forced his master to confess the
iniquity of his scheme, he adopts it with alacrity. There is not a
momentary struggle between self-devotion and the shock of indignation.
The spring is broken. The sense is dulled. The voice within is
hushed. What then kept this man's life so pure in court and camp? The
book is not written to suggest that honour and chivalry are a genuine
form or a substitute for grace.
One might suspect that it is the idea which Plato transmitted from
Socrates, which Cameron, in 1624, had revived--that the knowledge of
good and evil is virtue. But Inglesant possesses the virtue without
the knowledge. He is as destitute of conviction as he is free from
vice. His one security is Direction. He passes from hand to hand, and
successive teachers impress him for a time, but impart no principle.
When they fail him, he stands where they found him, a safe and
contented Churchman, not because he has examined all things and chosen
the best, but because the master he preferred happened to be in prison.
A fine opportunity had been wasted. A clever, refined, high-spirited
youth, who has won, in a religious {146} philosophy, a standing ground
apart from Churches, who yet learns to sympathise with them, and who
sheds his prejudices and illusions as he grows in spiritual experience;
that would be a noble study in the days of Grotius, Descartes, Lord
Herbert, Hammond, Baxter, Roger Williams, Elondel, Raynaud, and Pascal.
None of these appear on the platform with Hobbes and Cressy and
Molinos--as though, two centuries later, a man should seek rest for
conscience without going near Channing, Arnold, Newman, Vinet, Neander,
Rothe, Schelling, or Grundtvig. Last, the terms Romish, papist,
popery, in so good an artist, make me ask myself whether a papist who
respects himself would talk of heretics, schismatics, apostates, and
infidels? But I have become confused from my prolixity.
I shall be very glad if there is anything in what I said that Arthur
Lyttelton can turn to account, after careful verification. If he will
take the trouble to examine for himself, there can be no reason to
allude to anybody else.
He will abstain, I know, from raising those points respecting
persecution which would give just offence, appearing in this indirect
way. To mark the enormity of supposing that the Cardinal did not know
that people used to be burned in Rome; it would be enough to say that
he cannot have forgotten the reign of Paul V. Down to that reign, from
1542 to 1608, the thing was common and notorious. After Paul V. there
is little that anybody would remember who has not made a study of such
things. This also must be borne in mind, that in Rome, unlike Spain,
the victims were usually strangled, and were not committed to the
flames until they were dead.
The book alluded to, I. 327, is Molina, on grace. {147} The defence
about the appearance of the name of Quakers would be that it appeared
in that very year 1650. But they are here talked about as early as
January, as if quite well known. The answer to my objection about
Sancta Clara would be that the similarity of opinions suggested the use
of the name. But the man is too well known to be treated in that
unceremonious way.
To say, I. 137, that among Puritans self-restraint and concealment were
sins, is so serious an imputation, especially the first word, that it
should be defined which sect was meant. Nobody says that Baxter was
rude, not even Howe, in private life. There is a slovenliness in this
use of a big brush. Cardinal Howard does not deserve the praise he
gets, II. 333. He was a very pale figure.
Observe II. 273. There are no spires in Rome. I hear that the author
has never been in Italy. That accounts for many topographical
mistakes, and leaves a margin to his credit.
The date of the steps of the Trinita might perhaps be discovered in the
life of Cardinal Polignac, or in the article on him in Michaud or
Didot. It matters not; but the correctness of local and chronological
colour turns on such points as these. I think Cressy could hardly have
justified what he says of the Fathers.
On looking over my lengthy prose I find something that I must
add:--Valdes never renounced Catholicism, but his writings, only lately
made accessible, are the writings of a Protestant. The numbers
mentioned in the Irish massacre are, of course, monstrously
exaggerated, as were the numbers given by Clarendon, Milton, and
Baxter. I quote them to show the greatness of the {148} alarm. The
French Jesuits stood by Richelieu and allowed one of their number to be
exiled for his opposition to the German war when, after the peace of
Prague, it had ceased to be a war in defence of the Protestants, and
was purely aggressive. This was because, in 1627, he had made them
understand that they must leave France if they resisted his will. It
was easier to associate resistance to Puritanism with the Catholic
cause than aggression on the Catholic Powers in Germany. I do not say
that the care taken to prevent conversion is absolutely impossible.
Some Franciscans at that time might have done it; and something like it
is told of a Jesuit a few years later.
There is a very curious passage, II. 385, on persecution: It was these
selfsame ideas of the future and its relation to this life that
actuated their tormentors. This is an attempt to look beneath the
surface, and a soothing tribute to the feelings of those who admire
Galerius and Calvin and Gregory the Thirteenth. The Natural History of
Intolerance has not yet been written; but the analysis is not so simple
as these words imply. Half of the persecution in the Roman Empire, all
the persecution of Huguenots by the Valois, and of Roman Catholics
under Elizabeth, was due to other ideas than those of the future. And
where religious ideas induced men to side with the tormentors against
Toleration, there is much that is not more sincere or more excusable
than the ideas that have led to political massacres. The opinion
expressed covers some of the ground, but only a very small part of it.
But I must stop somewhere.
[Sidenote: _Cannes March 29, 1882_]
If there are judges and juries in Britain, Macmillan would expose
himself to fine and imprisonment by {149} printing what I write to you.
You will see in a moment, I am sure, why it could never be.
It would be an offence to the author, because there is no allowance of
the large measure of praise and even of admiration due to him--nothing
but the Catalogue of objections suggested to me by the belief that I
was writing to a too fervent admirer of the book. Without my signature
it would be a stab in the dark; and with my name it would be
insufferably pretentious, uncalled-for, and unfair. And I, who make a
profession of knowing about Conclaves and the like, should be bound to
visit more amply, if not more severely, the strangely inadequate and
pointless narrative of the election of Chigi. Few things are more
curious and dramatic than the Conclaves, and this one is particularly
well known.
Besides, Fraser is sure to be very hostile, both in detail and in
respect of the scope and spirit of the work. He is sure to quarrel
with Jesuit and Cardinal, and to say much of what I have said in strict
confidence. Please, dismiss the thought; and if you compliment
anything, let it be the paper and handwriting.
That is a very kind question about Gardiner; and as I have at hand,
here, the means of learning more without risk of indiscretion, I had
better postpone my answer. If, as a rule, those pensions are granted
to people almost destitute of means, the case could not well be
admitted. He ought to be at the Record Office instead of the present
Hardy. It is in Jessel's gift, and he asked my advice, specially
excluding clergymen, and thereby losing the two best men, Brewer and
Stubbs. I suggested Freeman, Gardiner, and Bond. Freeman sent me word
that he would not take it. Jessel told me he would appoint Bond--who
is now the very good {150} and estimable, but gloomy successor of
Panizzi--but that he had been told that Bond was a Catholic. He said
that a Jew was not strong enough to appoint a Catholic Keeper of the
Archives. Bond is a Broad Churchman, and the report arose only from my
recommendation. Gardiner therefore remained; but it was resolved,
under I know not what pressure, to keep the thing in the Hardy family.
Meantime, I think Gardiner succeeded Brewer in his professorship at
King's College--not, I imagine, remunerative, but still an obstacle.
Yes, I agree about Forbes, and rather think he is one of the men Simon
speaks of, and defies the Sorbonne to meet--unless I am mixing up the
two divines of that name.
Spinola wrote no book. He was a Franciscan bishop, Imperial Confessor
at Vienna, and produced several schemes of union, on the part of Rome,
which differ from other such by being definite and sincere. Leibniz,
and the Calixtine school of Lutherans, were very near adopting his
plan; but as he was an agent of pope and emperor when Louis XIV. was
the enemy of both, Bossuet contrived to baffle him. What was known of
these transactions down to our day is in Pichler's work on Leibniz.
Much more has since come out in the "Correspondence of the Electress
Sophia," and there is more to come, whenever the Madonna of the
Future[175] is unveiled.
Of John Inglesant, let me say that it would be a very fair text to work
on--how far the pagan, human virtues, coupled with qualities which are
not, in a spiritual sense, virtues, such as courage, delicacy, good
nature, veracity, pride, can accomplish the outward, visible {151} work
of grace. But that is clearly not the author's design.
If Gardiner's paper is very hostile, and you then think it worth while
to send my remarks to Mr. Shorthouse,[176] through his publisher or
otherwise, that is a case governed by the saying of the younger
Pompey.[177]
I liked what I saw of the Fox Memorials during a very short inspection;
and yesterday, lunching at the parsonage at Mentone, I found the Life
of Lowder. The accounts of Prince Leopold were distressing. Fancy my
finding myself with two excellent clergymen, both ardent Gladstonians,
and both wishing for the admission of Bradlaugh. Otherwise my journey
was not altogether successful, as I got half a sunstroke, which you
have already seen traces of in my letter.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: _Cannes April 27, 1882_]
The description you quote of Coleridge is not more inaccurate than
epigram requires. I have just drawn up a list of recommended authors
for my son, as being the company I should like him to keep, after me;
and after some hesitation I included S. T. C. in the number. But he
has to be balanced by sounder stuff.
Lecky only arrived two days ago, and is scarcely begun. But the
beginning, and the account of Junius struck me as very far indeed ahead
of all his former writings. There is a good deal of slovenly writing,
and it is puerile to write modern history from printed books; but this
is a wonderfully solid performance. You will not think it as amusing
as Froude's "Carlyle," when you come to it, but much more nutritious.
{152}
You depressed my spirits the other day by showing that the majority of
39 did not amount to quite so much as I, from a distance, had imagined.
And the Budget, though open to very little remark, does not do much to
raise them. If I was not conscious of being the worst accountant yet
discovered, I should say that there is a slip in one of the
calculations of Savings Bank deposits.
Gardiner for some reason did not publish his article.... If Arthur
Lyttelton, out of pure cussedness, wishes to put in the note you speak
of, I would like to see what it is he says, starting from the materials
buried in my letter.
* * * * *
* * * * *
[Sidenote: _Cannes May 3, 1882_]
Lecky's merits stand undiminished by further acquaintance, but the
deficiencies become more glaring. The character of Burke, though in my
opinion very defective, seems to me the best I have read in the
language.
* * * * *
The May _Fraser_ contains his article,[178] and I greatly fear that his
judgment will be as critical as my own.
I wonder whether you have the _Temps_ or _Debats_ in Downing Street,
and have read the speeches of Pasteur and Renan. I do not remember so
interesting a reception, and what is serious is that the most powerful
intellectual force in France has declared, virtually, for materialism.
[Sidenote: _Cannes May 5, 1882_]
We have nothing later than Tuesday's speech, so that the lines are not
traceable into the future, and I am still in a very anxious and
doubting stage.
{153}
It is not apparent why Spencer occupies a position between earth and
heaven. He looks like a warming pan. Not for a prince, for that is
out of the question. For Dufferin?[179] But Dufferin, who is easy,
dexterous, and popular, has not the sterling and transparent quality of
Spencer himself. It may well be the basis of a vast change in the
machinery for the government of Ireland; but that would require
legislation for which there is no time. Perplexity No. 1.
Then one must conclude that the change comes from assurances given by
the moderate Irish members, that it would enable them to moderate the
raging ones. But to ensure that, they must have a finger in the pie,
and Russell or Shaw would have to have the offer of the Irish Office.
It seems clear, from the delay, that that is not to be; and one hears
of Lefevre and Chamberlain.... Perplexity 2.
There is a look of uncertainty and want of clearness about the whole
thing. Cowper resigns; after an interval, half a successor is
appointed; then the suspects are released; then Forster resigns; and
then, after another interval showing want of preparation, there is a
new Secretary. This way of doing whatever is to be done suggests that
the Ministry had not the foresight to anticipate opinion, or strength
to lead it. Dropping one colleague after another in their Irish course
makes that course appear wanting in deliberation and design, and
strengthens the notion that, under heavy pressure, they may be driven
nobody knows where, like men who yield, not like men who lead. I
presume that there is some evidence of ensured improvement, consequent
upon concession. But one doubts that again, when {154} Forster
resigns; and it seems that the change is in the ideas more than in the
facts. As to any gain on Irish opinion from the grace of concession, I
should not expect it, as so many suspects remain in custody. If so,
then the advantage would be derived from the new position of the Irish
leaders--a very doubtful policy. Then again, I don't like the moment;
immediately after Cairns's stroke, and the untimely publication of his
draft report.[180] I don't like anything which looks like
overtrumping, because it is not fit for such a Prime Minister to follow
initiative, whether that of opponents, or of English or Irish opinion.
These misgivings occur to me although you know, if nobody else does,
that I was not convinced by the argument in favour of coercion, and saw
no evidence of greater demoralisation than was the direct effect of
actual suffering. Since then there has been so much atrocity in
Ireland, so much foreign influence, and so manifest a change for the
worse in the conduct of the clergy, that I have grown reconciled to the
strong hand. Even if full of sympathy with the spirit of the present
policy, I cannot satisfy myself with the mode of its inception, and I
shall not feel comfortable for some days, until the design grows clear.
To you, they will be intensely interesting, and I shall be very glad
indeed to hear that confidence reigns in Downing Street.
POST OFFICE AND SUBMARINE TELEGRAPHS.
CANNES, 5.14, 8/5, 11.54, on the 8/5, 1882.
Do not let him lose confidence in himself.[181]
ACTON.
{155}
[Sidenote: _Cannes May 9, 1882_]
We have only vague reports in French newspapers, but I cannot wait for
full accounts of the tragedy that touches us all so nearly, to give you
my warm tribute of sympathy and sorrow. It is shocking to think of
her, so worthy of happiness and so afflicted. You, I know, have, of
all people, the most soothing hand for the most cruel wounds.
It must have been a dreadful blow in your own home, and at a distance
one grows anxious about many things. I apprehend a violent burst of
passion in the country, with despair of healing such disease with
lenient arts; and, if the tide turns, the change will be felt in
Parliament, and will be used by men quite capable of seeing that Mr.
Gladstone's statesmanship is confirmed by the very crime which will
condemn it in common minds. Assuming that some of the Cabinet assent
reluctantly to the heroic policy, and that the last few weeks have not
added to his personal ascendency, I fear that they will either forsake
him or urge him to forsake his own ideal lines. Thinking of this, of
his strong affections, of the shadow on the hearth, I could not
restrain my wish to send you my small vote of confidence.
For we heard at first that Spencer had instantly resigned.[182] I was
ashamed to show myself, and whispered to my family how Nicholas, the
bad emperor, faced a rebellious army. There is very different news
to-day. I gather that Spencer remains, that Forster redeems many
faults by offering to go back, that Parnell has made his choice between
murder and conciliation, that the Opposition holds its hand, expecting
Mr. Gladstone to turn against himself.
{156}
It seems to me that much ground must inevitably be lost, and that the
true moral of this catastrophe can never be made visible to the average
Englishman. Still I see great opportunities of recovery, and I know in
what spirit I hope that he has had the strength to receive the blow
aimed through Freddy Cavendish at himself.
I long so much to hear from you. If you can think, in sad days like
these, of anything but the sorrow that is near you, do give an
affectionate message from me to Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone, and send me,
when you have a quiet moment, a line to Munich. I start almost
immediately.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: _St. Martin Ried Haute Autriche July 20, 1882_]
Alexandria, Bright, and a vote of censure have been a great distraction
from our Irish troubles. If Bright, the Minister, agreed to the
orders, and if Bright, the Quaker, woke up at the execution of the
orders, then his conduct is unstatesmanlike and weak. I conclude,--not
having Monday's debate yet,--that he resigns not because of the
bombardment, but because, having troops on the way, remembering the
example of Paris, warned by the terrified correspondents, we
nevertheless bombarded without taking precautions against consequences
that were not improbable. If he takes that ground, he will, I suppose,
be angry and mischievous, and his position will encourage the
disaffected Whigs; and it will be awkward even if part of the blame
rests on the Powers; because, when we took things into our own hands,
we were bound to do all that was necessary.
I very much wish for a completer defence than {157} I have seen yet;
and at the same time I think that a good defence, with some measure of
political success in Egypt, will be a source of new strength, and if
there is some blame, I anxiously ask myself whether it lies at the
Foreign Office, at the War Office, or at the Admiralty.
It is provoking not to know most of the names of the people going out
on this difficult errand. That is one side of the question. The
other, nearer home, for me, is that you are still going through
terrible worry, and that the wear and tear must be telling on Mr.
Gladstone. I ask myself one question, which most people would think an
unlikely one, whether he thoroughly controls his colleagues, and
whether the work of the House absorbs him too much.... I hope you sat
next to Bright....
* * * * *
[Sidenote: _St. Martin July 29, 1882_]
We are living here in my brother-in-law's house; and I will tell him
that he must prepare for better guests, as soon as you tell me that it
is not the baseless fabric of a vision. He is not married; so that
there is no one to be on ceremony with; and his house is as big as many
Tegernsees. Alfred[183] will be as welcome here as he is wherever his
bright face is shown.
* * * * *