seen this in our country can confirm my account, though it seems incredible.

army, at six leagues from us, victorious in Alsace, is on the road from Woerth to At last, I arrived at the Sarrebourg sta- Siewettler, to join hands with the army tion, when the Parisian paid me thirty that is moving on Metz; it is defiling past francs, which my horses had fairly earned. the guns of the fort. To-morrow we shall The families of all the railway employés see their advanced guard march past us. were just getting into the train for Paris; It is a melancholy story to be defeated and you may be sure that this Govern- through the fault of an imbecile and his ment newspaper-writer was delighted to courtiers; but we must always remember, find himself there. He had his free pass: as a small consolation, to every man his but for that the unlucky man would have turn." He began again to smoke, and I had to stay against his will, like many went on my way home, where I put up my others who at the present time are boast- horses. I had earned my thirty franes in ing loudly of having made a firm stand six hours; but this did not give me comwaiting for the enemy. plete satisfaction. My wife and Grédel were also on the hill listening to the firing

I quickly started home again by crossroads, and about twelve I reached Rothalp. The artillery was thundering amongst the mountains; crowds of people were climbing and running down the little hill near the church to listen to the distant roar. Cousin George was calmly smoking his pipe at the window, looking at all these people coming and going.

"What is going on?" said I, stopping my cart before his door.

"Nothing," said he; "only the Prussians attacking the little fort of Lichtenberg. But where are you coming from?"

"From Sarrebourg."

And I related to him in a few words what the Parisian had told me.

"Ah! now it is all plain," said he. "I could not understand why the 5th Corps was filing off into Lorraine, without making one day's stand in our mountains, which are so easily defended: it did really seem too cowardly. But now that Frossard is beaten at Forbach, the thing is explained - our flank is turned. De Failiy is afraid of being taken between two victorious armies. He has only to gain ground, for the cattle-dealer David has just told me that he has seen Uhlans behind Fénétrange. The line of the Vosges is surrendered; and we owe this misfortune to Monsieur Frossard, tutor to the Prince Imperial!"

The schoolmaster, Adam Fix, was then coming down from the hill with his wife; and cried that a battle was going on near Bitche. He did not stop on account of the rain. George told me to listen a few minutes. We could hear deep and distant reports of heavy guns, and others not so loud.

"Those heavy reports," said George, "come from the great siege-guns of the fort; the others are the enemy's lighter artillery. At this moment, the German

half the village were up there; and all at once I saw Placiard, who could not be found the day before, jumping through the gardens, puffing and panting for breath.

"You hear, Monsieur le Maire," he cried "you hear the battle? It is King Victor Emmanuel coming to our help with a hundred and fifty thousand men!"

At this I could no longer contain myself, and I cried - "Monsieur Placiard, if you take me for a fool, you are quite mistaken; and if you are one, you had better hold your tongue. It is no use any longer telling these poor people false news, as you have been doing for eighteen years, to keep up their hopes to the last moment. This will never more bring tobacco-excise to you, and stamp-offices to your sons. The time for play-acting is over. You are telling me this through love of lying; but I have had enough of all these abominable tricks. I now see things clearly. We have been plundered from end to end by fellows of your sort, and now we are going to pay for you, without having had any benefit ourselves. If the Prussians become our masters, if they bestow places and salaries, you will be their best friend; you will denounce the patriots in the commune, and you will have them to vote plébiscites for Bismarck! What does it matter to you whether you are a Frenchman or a German? Your true lord, your true king, your true emperor, is the man who pays!"

As fast as I spoke my wrath increased, and all at once I shouted: "Wait, Monsieur l'Adjoint, wait till I come out; I will pay you off for the Emperor, for his Ministers, and all the infamous crew of your sort who have brought the Prussians into France!" But I had scarcely reached the door, when he had already turned the corner.

From The Fortnightly Review.
THE IDEALISM OF MILTON.

dams, and was rushing onwards, somewhat
turbid, somewhat violent, yet gaining a
law and a majestic order from the mere
weight of the advancing mass of waters
at that fortunate time to live was the chief
thing, not to adopt and adhere to a theory
of living.

"Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,

and will neither go beyond nor fall short of them. He is noble, but we are someTHE critic who would find some single times painfully aware that it is a nobleness expression which resumes the tendency of prepense. He loves to imagine himself in each of an artist's works, or an expression heroic attitudes as defender of Engwhich resumes the tendency of all his land and of liberty, as the afflicted chamworks taken together, is commonly en- pion of his people fallen on evil days. gaged in falsifying the truth of criticism, His very recreation is pre-arranged and in all cases runs a risk of losing, the Mild heaven ordains a time for pleasfaithfulness of sympathy, the disengaged-ure.* ness of intelligence, the capacity for as- In all this Milton was unlike Shaksuming various spiritual attitudes which speare; and as the men differed, so did the should belong to him. A man will not be times. During the brighter years of the comprehended in a formula, nor will the Elizabethan period, when life life of the work of a man. But in the case of Milton, intellect, life of the imagination, religious and those who resemble him in his method life, life of the nation, and life of the indias an artist, this doctrinaire style of criti-vidual with one great bound had broken cism is at least not illegitimate. No poem, through and over the medieval dykes and of course, is reducible to an abstract statement or idea; yet the statement, the idea, may be the germ from which the poem has sprung. A tree glorious with all its leaves and blossoming is much more than the seed in which it lay concealed; yet from the seed, with favourable earth and skies, it grew. Milton never sang as the bird sings, with spontaneous pleasure, through an impulse unobserved and unmodified by the intellect. The intention of each poem is clearly conceived by himself; the form is elaborated with a conscious study of effects. There is in him none of the delicious imprévu of Shakspeare. Milton's nature never reacted simply and directly, finding utterance in a lyrical cry, when impressions from the world of nature or of society aroused the faculty of song. The reaction was checked, and did not find expression until he had considered his own feelings, and modified or altered them upon the sugges- Thus the character of the period fell in tions of his intellect. Milton's passion is with Milton's natural tendency towards great, but deliberate, approved by his the conscious modelling of his life as a judgment, and he never repents, feeling man, and of his works as an artist after that repentance would be a confession, not certain ideals, types, abstractions. only of sin, but of extreme weakness and not a little remarkable that we have the fatuity. He is not imaginative in the high- authority and example of Milton himself estin Shakspeare's - manner. Each for applying to his writings that criticism character of his mask, his drama, his epics, which looks for an intention or express is an ideal character- a Miltonic abstrac-purpose as the germinal centre of each, and tion incarnated. He himself is, as much which attempts to discover an unity in as may be, an ideal personage: his life them all, resulting from the constant presdoes not grow in large, vital unconscious-ence of one dominant idea. In the "Deness, but is modelled, sometimes labori- fensio Secunda" Milton looks back over ously, after an idea. And consequently his more important prose works, and he his life, like his writings, lacks the imprévu. finds that they all move in a harmonious He resolves in early youth that it shall be a great life, and he carries out his resolution unfalteringly from first to last. He tends his own genius, and observes it. He waits for its maturity, and watches. He accepts his powers as trusts from God,

But to be young was very heaven!" At the time when Milton reached manhood, the unity of this new life of England was broken, and there were two conspicu ous theories of life, to one of which each man was compelled to attach himself; two experiments of living, of which each person must assay one; two doctrines in religion, two tendencies in politics, two systems of social conduct and of manners. The large insouciance of the earlier fashion of living was gone; everyone could tell why he was what he was.

It is

system around a central conception of liberty. An Ideal of liberty was that which presided over his public life, his life in the world of action, and the books which were

*Sonnet to Cyriac Skinner.

and few- Milton's poetry at the same time dealing with moral truth, and the abiding meanings of things-might we not naturally look for a single chief tendency, a permanent presence of one dominant conception in all his poetical self-utterance, epic and dramatic?

meant to bear upon the world of action refer to that ideal. There are three forms or species of liberty, Milton tells us, which are essential to the happiness of man as a member of society-religious liberty, domestic, civil. From an early period the first of these had occupied his thoughts. "What he had in view when he hesitated Milton's inner life, of which his poetry to become a clergyman," Professor Mas- is an expression, as his prose is an expresson remarks, "was, in all probability, less sion of his outer, public life, was an unthe letter of the articles to be subscribed, ceasing tending from evil to good, from and of the oaths to be taken, than the base or common to noble, a perpetual aspigeneral condition of the Church at that ration to moral greatness. Not less than particular time." Prelatical tyranny, and Goethe he studied self-culture. But while the theories by which it was justified, in- Goethe, with his deliberate Hellenism, spired the indignant pamphlets to write made man an end to himself, Milton, over which Milton resolutely put poetry aside. whom the Hebrew spirit kept jealous Domestic liberty "involves three material guard, considered man at his highest as questions the conditions of the conjugal the creature of God. And in the hierarchy tie, the education of children, and the free of human faculties Milton assigned the publication of one's thoughts."* Each of place of supreme authority, as Goethe these was made a subject of distinct con- never did, to those powers which lie upon sideration in "Tetrachordon" and other the Godward side of our humanity, to writings on the question of divorce, in the those perceptions and volitions which are Letter addressed to Samuel Hartlib on concerned with moral good and evil. The education, and in the Speech for the liberty impartiality of Goethe's self-culture was of unlicensed printing. Were it one of Mil- undisturbed by any vivid sense of sin. ton's critics, and not Milton himself, who No part of his being seemed to him in exhad thus classed the "Areopagitica treme peril from spiritual foes, no part apamongst the treatises in defence of domes-peared the object of a fierce assault; it tic liberty, or who had represented the was easy for him to transfer his attention letter to Hartlib as concerned with liberty serenely from this side of his nature to in any of its forms, should we not be that, while with resolute and calm persistready to declare that he had departed ence he strove to attain completeness of from the sincerity of criticism, and was self-development. To Goethe the world forcing the author's works at any cost to was a gymnasium or academy, and life a accord with the theory of his own? Yet period of higher education. The peculithere is no forcing here; there is only the arity of Milton's view was, that before compulsion put upon Milton himself by his him the world lay as a battle-field, life was dominant idea. Civil liberty occupied him a warfare against principalities and powers, last. He thought at an earlier season and the good man a champion of God. that it might be left to the magistrates. The sense of sin never forsook him, nor It was not until events had proved that that of a glorious possibility of virtue. his pen might be wielded as a powerful To Goethe nature presented itself as a weapon in its defence, that the "Iconoclastes," the "Pro Populo Anglicano Defensio," and the "Defensio Secunda "were produced.

Thus we are directed by Milton himself to observe how the great cycle of his prose works revolves around this controlling idea of liberty. One is tempted to go on, and endeavour to apply this authorized kind of criticism to Milton's poetry. Would it be surprising, or not rather a thing to be expected, if a certain unity of idea became apparent in the work of the poet as in that of the pamphleteer? Milton being what he was, a man governed by ideas, and those ideas being persistent

"Defensio Secunda."

harmonious group of influences favourable, upon the whole, towards man; what he chiefly feared was a mistake in his plan of culture, the substituting in his lifelong education of a subordinate power or faculty of his nature for the master power. What Milton feared before all else was disloyalty to God, and a consequent hell; and to him nature, in its most significant aspect, was but the scene of an indefatigable antagonism between good and evil. In other words, Milton was essentially a Puritan. In spite of his classical culture, and his Renaissance sense of beauty, he not less than Bunyan saw, as the prime fact of the world, Diabolus at odds with Immanuel. He, as well as Bunyan, beheld a Celestial City and a City of Destruction,

standing remote from one another, with the heavens arching over it — a dim spot, hostile rulers. Milton added, as Bunyan in which men "strive to keep up a frail also added, that final victory must lie upon and feverish being "set below the "starry the side of good. That is, he asserted threshold of Jove's Court," eternal Providence. There is a victory, which is God's, not ours; it is our part to cleave to the Eternal One, his part to achieve the triumph on our behalf.

Here we possess the dominant idea which governed the inner life of Milton, and the dominant idea around which revolves the cycle of his poetical works, as that of his prose works revolves around the idea of liberty. There is a mortal battle waged between the powers of good and evil. Therefore in each of Milton's greater poems there are two parties, opposed as light and darkness are opposed, there are hostile forces arrayed for strife on this side and on that. But God is omnipotent, the everlasting Jehovah. There is, therefore, in every instance a victory of the righteous, wrought out for them by Divine help.

"Where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live inspher'd In regions mild of calm and serene air." From its first scene to the last the drama is a representation of the trials, difficulties, and dangers to which moral purity is exposed in this world, and of the victory of the better principle in the soul, gained by strenuous human endeavour aided by the grace of God. In this spiritual warfare the powers of good and evil are arrayed against one another; upon this side the Lady, her brothers (types of human helpfulness weak in itself, and liable to go astray), and the supernatural powers auxiliar to virtue in heaven and in earth the Attendant Spirit and the nymph Sabrina.

The enchanter Comus is son of Bacchus In addition to this, let it be borne in and Circe, and inheritor of twofold vice. mind that Milton, as an artist works in the If Milton had pictured the life of innocent manner of an idealist. His starting-point mirth in "L'Allegro," here was a picture is ordinarily an abstraction. Whereas to set beside the other, a vision of the with Bunyan abstract virtues and vices genius of sensual indulgence. Yet Comus are perpetually tending to become real is inwardly, not outwardly foul; no grim persons, with Milton each real person tends monster like that which the mediaæval imto become the representative of an idea or agination conjured up to terrify the spirit a group, more or less complex, of ideas. and disgust the senses. The attempt of Hopeful, and old Honest, and Mr. Feeble- sin upon the soul as conceived by Milton Mind, as we read, grow by degrees into is not the open and violent obsession of a actual human beings, who, had we lived brute power, but involves a cheat, an imtwo centuries ago, might have been known posture. The soul is put upon its trial to us as respected Puritan neighbours. through the seduction of the senses and Samson and Dalila, and not alone these the lower parts of our nature. Flattering persons of remote Eastern tradition, but lies entice the ears of Eve; Christ is tried Lady Alice Egerton and her brothers, ver- by false visions of power and glory, and itably alive and breathing, are, as Milton beneficent ruin; Samson is defrauded of shows them, objects (to borrow a phrase his strength by deceitful blandishment. of Dr. Newman) rather of notional than | And in like manner Comus must needs real apprehension. possess a beauty of his own, such beauty "Comus" is the work of a youthful as ensnares the eye untrained in the severe spirit, enamoured of its ideals of beauty school of moral perfection. Correggio and of virtue, zealous to exhibit the iden- sought him as a favorite model, but not tity of moral loveliness with moral severity. Michael Angelo. He is sensitive to rich The real incident from which the mask forms and sweet sounds, graceful in oraoriginated disengages itself, in the imagi- tory, possessed, like Satan, of high intelnation of Milton, from the world of actual lect, but intellect in the service of the occurrences, and becomes an occasion for senses; he surrounds himself with a world the dramatic play of his own poetical ab- of art which lulls the soul into forgetfulstractions. The young English gentlemen ness of its higher instincts and of duty; cast off their identity and individuality, his palace is stately, and "set out with all and appear in the elementary shapes of manner of deliciousness." "First Brother" and "Second Brother." | Over against this potent enchanter The Lady Alice rises into an ideal imper-stands the virginal figure of the Lady, who sonation of virgin strength and virtue. is stronger than he. Young men, themThe scene is earth, a wild wood; but selves conscious of high powers, and who earth, as in all the poems of Milton, with are more truly acquainted with admiration

In other words, Divine Providence is asserted. Not without higher than human aid is the Lady rescued, and through the weakness of the mortal instruments of divine grace but half the intended work is accomplished. Comus escapes bearing his magic wand, to deceive other straye.s in the wood, to work new enchantments, and swell his rout of ugly-headed followers.

than with love, find the presence of the brothers wander in the wood. They strength in woman invincibly attractive. are alike in being aimless and helpless; if Shakspeare, in his earlier dramatic period, they are distinguished from one another, delighted to represent such female charac- it is only as "First Brother" and "Second ters as Rosalind, and Beatrice, and Portia; Brother," and by one of the simple devices characters at once stronger and weaker common to ideal artists-first brother is than his Imogens and Desdemonas, a philosopher and full of hope and faith; stronger because more intellectual, weaker second brother is more apprehensive, and because less harmoniously feminine. Shel- less thoroughly grounded in ethics and ley, who was never other than young, ex-metaphysics. The deliverance of their hibited different types of heroic womanly sister would be impossible but for supernature, as conceived by him, in Cyntha of natural interposition, the aid afforded by "The Revolt of Islam," and in Beatrice the Attendant Spirit from Jove's court. Cenci. Something of weakness belongs to the Lady of Milton, because she is a woman, accustomed to the protection of others, tenderly nurtured, with a fair and gentle body; but when the hour of trial comes she shows herself strong in powers of judgment and of reasoning, strong in her spiritual nature, in her tenacity of moral truth, in her indignation against sin. Although alone, and encompassed by evil and danger, she is fearless, and so clear-sighted that the juggling practice of her antagonist is wholly ineffectual against her. There is much in the Lady which resembles the youthful Milton himself-he, the Lady of his college and we may well believe that the great debate concerning temperance was not altogether dramatic (where, indeed, is Milton truly dramatic ?), but was in part a record of passages in the poet's own spiritual history. Milton admired the Lady as he admired the ideal which he projected before him of himself. She is, indeed, too admirable to be an object of cherishing love. We could almost prolong her sufferings to draw a more complete enthusiasm from the sight of her heroic attitude.

The lady is unsubdued, and indeed unsubduable, because her will remains her own, a citadel without a breach; but "her corporal rind" is manacled, she is set in the enchanted chair and cannot leave it. Richardson, an artist who like Milton wrought in the manner of the idealists, conceived a similar situation in his Clarissa. To subdue the will of the noble and beautiful woman against whom he has set himself is as much the object of Lovelace as to gain' possession of her person. His mastery over her outward fate grows steadily from less to more, until at length it is absolute; but her true personality (and Richardson never lets us forget this) remains remote, untouched, victorious, and her death itself is not defeat, but a well-conducted retreat from this life to a position of greater security and freedom. Meanwhile, to return to "Comus,".

Little need be said of Paradise Lost;" the central idea is obvious. There is again a great contention, Heaven and Hell striving for the mastery. Satan and his angels are warring, first tumultuously and afterwards by crafty ways, against God and Messiah, and the Executor's of God's purposes. Each of the infernal Thrones and Dominations is an ideal conception, the representative of a single living lust. Satan himself is the spirit of disobedience, that supreme sin of which all other sins are but modes; he is a will alienated from God, and proudly accepting such alienation as the law of his nature. Man's virtue is placed upon its trial. Paradise, so far from being the peaceful garden, is the central battle-field of the whole universe. Adam falls, and evil for a time appears to have gained the day; but such an appearance cannot but be fallacious - the woman contains within her the seed of promise, the great Deliverer who shall bruise the serpent's head. To "assert eternal Providence" is the declared intention of the whole work. It closes, if in no triumphant strain, yet in a spirit of serious confidence concerning the future:

"Some natural tears they dropp'd, but wiped them soon;

The world was all before them, where to choose

Their place of rest, and Providence their guide:

They hand in hand, with wand'ring steps and slow,

Through Eden took their solitary way."

By the time "Paradise Lost" was written, Milton had known love as distinct