what I mean. Having been invited to a stag-cate, whatever may have been learned at hunt in the Côte d'Or, I sat down to déjeuner school. When Dr. Arnold travelled on the with the sportsmen in a good country-house or château (it was an old place with four towers), and in the midst of the meal in came a man smoking a cigar. After a bow to the ladies he declined to eat anything, and took a chair a little apart, but just opposite me. He resumed his hat and went on smoking with a sans-géne that rather surprised me under the circumstances. He put one arm on the sideboard: the hand hung down, and I perceived that it was dirty (so was the shirt), and that the nails had edges of ebony. On his chin there was a black stubble of two days' growth. He talked very loudly, and his dress and manners were exactly those of a bagman just arrived at his inn. Who and what could the man be? I learned afterwards that he had begun life as a distinguished pupil of the École Polytechnique, that since then he had distinguished himself as an officer of artillery and had won the Legion of Honor on the field of battle, that he belonged to one of the principal families in the neighborhood, and had nearly 20007. a year from landed property.

Continent, nothing struck him more than the absence of gentlemen. "We see no gentlemen anywhere," he writes from Italy. From France he writes: "Again I have been struck with the total absence of all gentlemen, and of all persons of the education and feelings of gentlemen." Now, although Dr. Arnold spoke merely from the experience of a tourist, and was perhaps not quite competent to judge of Frenchmen and Italians otherwise than from externals, still there was much truth in his observation. It was not quite absolutely true. I have known two or three Italian officers, and one Savoyard nobleman, and a Frenchman here and there, who were as perfect gentlemen as any to be found in England, but they were isolated like poets, and were in fact poets in behavior and selfdiscipline. The plain truth is, that there is no distinct class in France maintaining good manners as a tradition common to all its members; and this seems to be the inevitable defect of a democracy. It may be observed, further, that language itself is defiled by the vulgarity of the popular taste; that expressions are used continually, even by the upper middle class, which it is impossible to print, and which are too grossly indecent to find a place even in the dictionaries; that respectable men, having become insensible to the meaning of these expressions from hearing them used without intention, employ them constantly from habit, as they decorate their speech with oaths, whilst only purists refrain from them altogether.

Now, it may be a good thing for the roughs at the bottom of the social scale to level up to the bagman-ideal, but it does seem rather a pity (does it not?) that a born gentleman of more than common bravery and ability should level down to it. And it is here that lies the principle objection to democracy from the point of view of culture, that its notion of life and manners is a uniform notion, not admitting much variety of classes, and not allow ing the high development of graceful and accomplished humanity in any class which an An aristocracy may be very narrow and aristocracy does at least encourage in one intolerant, but it can only exclude from its class, though it may be numerically a small own pale, whereas when a democracy is inclass. I have not forgotten what Saint-Simon tolerant it excludes from all human interand La Bruyère have testified about the ig- course. Our own aristocracy, as a class, norance of the old noblesse. Saint-Simon rejects Dissenters, and artists, and men of said that they were fit for nothing but fight- science, but they flourish quite happily outing, and only qualified for promotion even in side of it. Now try to picture to yourself a the army by seniority; that the rest of their great democracy having the same prejudices, time was passed in "the most deadly useless- who could get out of the democracy? All ness, the consequence of their indolence and aristocracies are intolerant with reference, I 'distaste for all instruction." I am sure that will not say to religion, but, more accurately, iny modern artillery captain, notwithstand- with reference to the outward forms of relig his bad manners, knew more than any of ion, and yet this aristocratic intolerance has his forefathers; but where was his "perfect not prevented the development of religious knighthood?" And we easily forget "how liberty, because the lower classes were not much talent runs into manners," as Emerson strictly bound by the customs of the nobility says. From the artistic and poetical point of and gentry. The unwritten law appears to view, behavior is an expression of knowledge be that members of an aristocracy shall conand taste and feeling in combination, as clear form either to what is actually the State and legible as literature or painting, so that Church or to what has been the State Church when the behavior is coarse and unbecoming at some former period of the national history. we know that the perceptions cannot be deli- Although England is a Protestant country,

And if this is the provincial spirit, what is the spirit of the metropolitan democracy? Is it not clearly known to us by its acts? It had the opportunity, under the Commune, of showing the world how tenderly it cared for the monuments of national history, how anx

an English gentleman does not lose caste when I spent for art and science is money thrown he joins the Roman Catholic communion; away foolishly. Such is the provincial spirit." but he loses caste when he becomes a Dissenter. The influence of this caste-law in keeping the upper classes within the Churches of England and of Rome has no doubt been very considerable, but its influence on the nation generally has been incomparably less considerable than that of some equally de-ious it was for the preservation of noble archicided social rule in the entire mind of a tecture, of great libraries, of pictures that can democracy. Had this rule of conformity to never be replaced. Whatever may have been the religion of the State been that of the Eng- our illusions about the character of the Palish democracy, religious liberty would have risian democracy, we know it very accurately been extinguished throughout the length and now. To say that it is brutal would be an breadth of England. I say that the customs inadequate use of language, for the brutes are and convictions of a democracy are more only indifferent to history and civilization, dangerous to intellectual liberty than those not hostile to them. So far as it is possible of an aristocracy, because, in matters of cus- for us to understand the temper of that democtom, the gentry rule only within their own racy, it appears to cherish an active and park-palings, whereas the people, when power intense hatred for every conceivable kind of resides with them, rule wherever the breezes superiority, and an instinctive eagerness to blow. A democracy that dislikes refinement abolish the past; or, as that is not possible, and good manners can drive men of culture since the past will always have been in spite into solitude, and make morbid hermits of of it, then at least to efface all visible methe very persons who ought to be the lights morials and destroy the bequests of all preand leaders of humanity. It can cut short ceding generations. If any one had affirmed, the traditions of good-breeding, the traditions before the fall of Louis Napoleon, that the of polite learning, the traditions of thoughtful democratic spirit was capable of setting fire leisure, and reduce the various national types to the Louvre and the national archives and of character to one type, that of the commis- libraries, of deliberately planning the devoyageur. All men of refined sentiment in struction of all those magnificent edifices, modern France lament the want of elevation ecclesiastical and civil, which were the glory in the bourgeoisie. They read nothing, they of France and the delight of Europe, we learn nothing, they think of nothing but should have attributed such an assertion to money and the satisfaction of their appetites. the exaggerations of reactionary fears. But There are exceptions, of course, but the tone since the year 1870 we do not speculate about of the class is mean and low, and devoid of the democratic temper in its intensest expresnatural dignity or noble aspiration. Their sion; we have seen it at work, and we know ignorance passes belief, and is accompanied it. We know that every beautiful building. by an absolute self-satisfaction. "La fin de every precious manuscript and picture, has la bourgeoisie," says an eminent French to be protected against the noxious swarm of author, "commence parcequ'elle a les senti- Communards as a sea-jetty against the Pholas ments de la populace. Je ne vois pas qu'elle and the Teredo. lise d'autres journaux, qu'elle se régale d'une musique différente, qu'elle ait des plaisirs plus élevés. Chez l'une comme chez l'autre, c'est le même amour de l'argent, le même respect du fait accompli, le même besoin d'idoles pour les détruire, la même haine de toute supériorité, le même esprit de dénigrement, la même crasse ignorance!" M. Renan also complains that during the Second Empire the country sank deeper and deeper into vulgarity, forgetting its past history and its noble enthusiasms. "Talk to the peasant, to the socialist of the International, of France, of her past history, of her genius, he will not understand you. Military honor seems madness to him; the taste for great things, the The ultra-democratic spirit is hostile to cultglory of the mind, are vain dreams; money | ure, from its hatred of all delicate and ro

Compare this temper with that of a Marquis of Hertford, a Duke of Devonshire, a Duc de Luynes! True guardians of the means of culture, these men have given splendid hospitality to the great authors and artists of past times, by keeping their works for the future with tender and reverent care. Nor has this function of high stewardship ever been more nobly exercised than it is to-day by that true knight and gentleman, Sir Richard Wallace. Think of the difference between this great-hearted guardian of priceless treasures, keeping them for the people, for civilization, and a base-spirited Communard setting fire to the library of the Louvre.

mantic sentiment, from its scorn of the ten- | comes in the presence of a lord. No rightderer and finer feelings of our nature, and es-minded person likes to be thought impudent, pecially from its brutish incapacity to com- and where the tone of society refers everyprehend the needs of the higher life. If it had thing to position, you are considered impuits way we should be compelled by public dent when you forget your station. But opinion to cast all the records of our ances- what has my station to do with the truths the tors, and the shields they wore in battle, into intellect perceives, that lie entirely outside of the foul waters of an eternal Lethe. The in- me? From the intellectual point of view, it tolerance of the sentiment of birth, that noble is a necessary virtue to forget your station, to sentiment which has animated so many hearts forget yourself entirely, and to think of the with heroism, and urged them to deeds of subject only, in a manner perfectly disinterhonor, associated as it is with a cynical dis-ested. Anonymous journalism was a device belief in the existence of female virtue,* is to escape from that continual reference to the one of the commonest signs of this evil spirit of detraction. It is closely connected with an ungrateful indifference towards all that our forefathers have done to make civilization possible for us. Now, although the intellectual spirit studies the past critically, and does not accept history as a legend is accepted by the credulous, still the intellectual spirit has a deep respect for all that is noble in the past, and would preserve the record of it forever. Can you not imagine, have you not actually seen, the heir of some ancient house who shares to the full the culture and aspirations of the age in which we live, and who nevertheless preserves, with pious reverence, the towers his forefathers built on the ancestral earth, and the oaks they planted, and the shields that were carved on the tombs where the knights and their ladies rest? Be sure that a right understanding of the present is compatible with a right and reverent understanding of the past, and that, although we may closely question history and tradition, no longer with childlike faith, still the spirit of true culture would never efface their vestiges. It was not Michelet, not Renan, not Hugo, who set fire to the Palace of Justice and imperilled the Sainte-Chapelle.

And yet, notwithstanding all these vices and excesses of the democratic spirit, notwithstanding the meanness of the middle classes and the violence of the mob, there is one all-powerful reason why our best hopes for the liberal culture of the intellect are centred in the democratic idea. The reason is, that aristocracies think too much of persons and positions to weigh facts and opinions justly. In an aristocratic society it is thought unbecoming to state your views in their full force in the presence of any social superior. If you state them at all you must soften them to suit the occasion, or you will be a sinner against good-breeding. Observe how timid and acquiescent the ordinary Englishman be

*The association between the two is this. If you believe that you are descended from a distinguished ancestor, you are simple enough to believe in his wife's fidelity.

rank and fortune of the speaker which is an inveterate habit in all aristocratic communities. A young man without title or estate knows that he would not be listened to in the presence of his social superiors, so he holds his tongue in society and relieves himself by an article in the Times. The anonymous newspapers and reviews are a necessity in an aristocratic community, for they are the only means of attracting attention to facts and opinions without attracting it to yourself, the only way of escaping the personal question, "Who and what are you, that you venture to speak so plainly, and where is your stake in the country?"

The democratic idea, by its theoretic equality amongst men, affords an almost complete relief from this impediment to intellectual conversation. The theory of equality is good, because it negatives the interference of rank and wealth in matters that appertain to the intellect or to the moral sense. It may even go one step farther with advantage, and ignore intellectual authority also. The perfection of the intellectual spirit is the entire forgetfulness of persons, in the application of the whole power of the mind to things, and phenomena, and ideas. Not to mind whether the speaker is of noble or humble birth, rich or poor; this indeed is much, but we ought to attain a like indifference to the authority of the most splendid reputation. "Every great advance in natural knowledge," says Professor Huxley, "has involved the absolute rejection of authority, the cherishing of the keenest scepticism, the annihilation of the spirit of blind faith; and the most ardent votary of science holds his firmest convictions, not because the men he most venerates hold them, not because their verity is testified by portents and wonders, but because his experience teaches him that whenever he chooses to bring these convictions into contact with their primary source, Nature-whenever he thinks fit to test them by appealing to experiment and to observation-Nature will confirm them."

PART IX.

SOCIETY AND SOLITUDE.

LETTER I.

TO A LADY WHO DOUBTED THE REALITY OF IN-
TELLECTUAL FRIENDSHIPS.

That intellectual friendships are in their nature temporary, when there is no basis of feeling to support them-Their freshness soon disappears-Danger of satiety-Temporary acquaintances Succession in friendships-Free communication of intellectual results-Friendships between ripe and immature men—Rembrandt and Hoogstraten-Tradition transmitted through these friendships.

hand that the freshness of the mind that was new to us will rapidly wear away, that we shall soon assimilate the fragment of it which is all that ever can be made our own, so we enjoy the freshness whilst it lasts, and are even careful of it as a fruiterer is of the bloom upon his grapes and plums. It may seem a hard and worldly thing to say, but it appears to me that a wise man might limit his intercourse with others before there was any danger of satiety, as it is wisdom in eating to rise from table with an appetite. Certainly, if the friends of our intellect live near enough for us to anticipate no permanent separation by mere distance, if we may expect to meet them frequently, to have many opportunities for a I HEARTILY agree with you so far as this, more thorough and searching exploration of that intellectual relations will not sustain their minds, it is a wise policy not to exhaust friendship for very long, unless there is also them all at once. With the chance acquaintsome basis of feeling to sustain it. And still ances we make in travelling, the case is altothere is a certain reality in the friendships of gether different; and this is, no doubt, the the intellect whilst they last, and they are re-reason why men are so astonishingly commembered gratefully for their profit when in municative when they never expect to see the course of nature they have ceased. We each other any more. You feel an intense may wisely contract them, and blamelessly curiosity about some temporary companion; dissolve them when the occasion that created you make many guesses about him; and to them has gone by. They are like business induce him to tell you as much as possible in partnerships, contracted from motives of in- the short time you are likely to be together, terest, and requiring integrity above all you win his confidence by a frankness that things, with mutual respect and consideration, would perhaps considerably surprise your yet not necessarily either affection or the sem- nearest neighbors and relations. This is due blance of it. Since the motive of the intellect to the shortness of the opportunity; but with ual existence is the desire to ascertain and people who live in the same place, you will communicate truth, a sort of positive and proceed much more deliberately. negative electricity immediately establishes Whoever would remain regularly provided itself between those who want to know and with intellectual friends, ought to arrange a those who desire to communicate their knowl- succession of friendships, as gardeners do edge; and the connection is mutually agreea-with peas and strawberries, so that, whilst ble until these two desires are satisfied. some are fully ripe, others should be ripening When this happens, the connection naturally to replace them. This doctrine sounds like ceases; but the memory of it usually leaves a permanent feeling of good-will, and a permanent disposition to render services of the same order. This, in brief, is the whole philosophy of the subject; but it may be observed farther, that the purely intellectual intercourse which often goes by the name of friendship affords excellent opportunities for the formation of real friendship, since it cannot be long continued without revealing much of the whole nature of the associates.

blasphemy against friendship; but it is not intended to apply to the sacred friendship of the heart, which ought to be permanent like marriage, only to the friendship of the head, which is of the utmost utility to culture, yet in its nature temporary. I know a distinguished Englishman who is quite remarkable for the talent with which he arranges his inintellectual friendships, so as never to be dependent on any one, but always sure of the intercourse he needs, both now and in the fu

We do not easily exhaust the mind of an- ture. He will never be isolated, never withother, but we easily exhaust what is accessi-out some fresh and living interest in humanble to us in his mind; and when we have done ity. It may seem to you that there is a la this, the first benefit of intercourse is at an mentable want of faith in this; and I grant end. Then comes a feeling of dulness and at once that a system of this kind does predisappointment, which is full of the bitterest suppose the extinction of the boyish belief in discouragement to the inexperienced. In ma- the permanence of human relations; still, it turer life we are so well prepared for this that indicates a large-minded confidence in the it discourages us no longer. We know before-value of human intercourse, an enjoyment of

An intellectual man may go into general society quite safely if only he can resist its influence upon his serious work; but such resistance is difficult in maturity and impossible in youth.

the present, a hope for the future, and a right | be valuable to you as a past experience, but if appreciation of the past. the intellectual ambition you confess to me is Nothing is more beautiful in the intellectual quite serious, I would venture to suggest that life than the willingness of all cultivated people there are certain dangers in the continuation -unless they happen to be accidentally soured of your present existence if altogether uninby circumstances that have made them terrupted. Pray do not suspect me of any wretched-to communicate to others the re- narrow prejudice against human intercourse, sults of all their toil. It is true that they ap- or of any wish to make a hermit of you before parently lose nothing by the process, and that your time, but believe that the few observaa rich man who gives some portion of his ma- tions I have to make are grounded simply terial wealth exercises a greater self-denial; on the desire that your career should be enstill, when you consider that men of culture, tirely satisfactory to your own maturer judgin teaching others, abandon something of their ment, when you will look back upon it after relative superiority, and often voluntarily in- many years. cur the sacrifice of what is most precious to them, namely, their time, I think you will admit that their readiness in this kind of generosity is one of the finest characteristics of highly-developed humanity. Of all intellectual friendships, none are so beautiful as those The sort of influence most to be dreaded is which subsist between old and ripe men and this. Society is, and must be, based upon aptheir younger brethren in science, or litera-pearances, and not upon the deepest realities. ture, or art. It is by these private friendships, even more than by public performance, that the tradition of sound thinking and great doing is perpetuated from age to age. Hoogstraten, who was a pupil of Rembrandt, asked him many questions, which the great master answered thus:-"Try to put well in practice what you already know; in so doing you will, in good time, discover the hidden things which you now inquire about." That answer of Rembrandt's is typical of the maturest teach- Consider fashionable education. Society ing. How truly friendly it is; how full of imperatively requires an outside knowledge encouragement; how kind in its admission of many things; not permitting the frank that the younger artist dd already know confession of ignorance, whilst it is yet satissomething worth putting into practice; and fied with a degree of knowledge differing yet, at the same time, how judicious in its re- only from avowed ignorance in permitting serve! Few of us have been so exceptionally you to be less sincere. All young ladies, unfortunate as not to find, in our own age, whether gifted by nature with any musical some experienced friend who has helped us by talent or not, are compelled to say that they precious counsel, never to be forgotten. We have learned to play upon the piano; all cannot render it in kind; but perhaps in the young gentlemen are compelled to affect to fulness of time it may become our noblest duty know Latin. In the same way the public to aid another as we have ourselves been aid- opinion of Society compels its members to ed, and to transmit to himan invaluable treas- pretend to know and appreciate the masterure, the tradition of the intellectual life. pieces of literature and art. There is, in truth, so much compulsion of this kind that it is not easy to ascertain what people do really know and care about until they admit you into their confidence.

LETTER II.

TO A YOUNG GENTLEMAN WHO LIVED MUCH IN

FASHIONABLE SOCIETY.

It requires some degree of reality to produce the appearance, but not a substantial reality. Gilding is the perfect type of what Society requires. A certain quantity of gold is necessary for the work of the gilder, but a very small quantity, and skill in applying the metal so as to cover a large surface, is of greater consequence than the weight of the metal itself. The mind of a fashionable person is a carefully gilded mind.

The inevitable effect of these affectations is to diminish the value, in Society, of genuine Certain dangers to the intellectual life-Difficult to resist the knowledge and accomplishment of all kinds. influences of society--Gilding-Fashionable education-I know a man who is a Latin scholar; he is Affectations of knowledge-Not easy to ascertain what

people really know--Value of real knowledge diminished one of the few moderns who have really -Some good effects of affectations-Their bad effect on learned Latin; but in fashionable society this brings him no distinction, because we are all

workers-Skill in amusements.

THE kind of life which you have been lead-supposed to know Latin, and the true scholar, ing for the last three or four years will always when he appears, cannot be distinguished