must first get miracles out of religion. Comte has effectually performed that last service for his church; but he proposes that the priests should have an infinitely more sweeping authority than those who put forward the strongest claims to supremacy on supernatural grounds. That men should be found to accept such an ideal is, as we have already remarked, a strong proof of the reaction produced by the theory which proposes that spiritual anarchy should be made permanent, and religion destroyed without providing a new satisfaction for the wants which it ministered. The more rational ideal of a priesthood occupying a position of great authority, because resting on claims which satisfy the more powerful intellects, and yet with an authority duly lowered by their abandonment of incredible assumptions, is not sufficiently emphatic to satisfy their impatience.

If it should be asked what definite task is proposed to the spiritual body thus constituted, we must answer very shortly by one of the most important applications of their principles. Professor Beesly has lately told us in the Fortnightly Review what we ought to think about the relations of capital and labour. Two or three propositions will sum up their main doctrines. In the first place, the existing evils cannot be remedied by any superficial change of system: the socialist teachers who hoped to reconcile grievances, not by diminishing selfishness, but by arranging men like a puzzle so that all their selfish passions might be directed for the general good, were engaged on a task as hopeless as the discovery of perpetual motion or any of the other schemes for making something out of nothing. So long as capitalists care for nothing but increase of profits, and spend all they make on themselves instead of holding it in trust for their fellow creatures; so

long as workmen limit their aspirations to becoming rich and idle themselves, so long society will suffer from a disease to be cured by no ingenious combinations. Industry must be moralised; the present theory of political economists amounts to that so tersely summed up by the secretary of state who replied to the appeal of the Virginians for money to found a college and improve their souls: Damn your souls, grow tobacco.' Be rich at all hazards, and care for no loftier objects, is the practical preaching of the day. The duty of the Positivist priesthood will be to inculcate a loftier mode of morality, to encourage capitalists to view themselves as public functionaries, and to impress upon all men that the direct object of their labour should be the good of society at large, and their wages not a remuneration for their labour, but the means of enabling them to do their duty. All services to humanity should be essentially gratuitous. In the next place, the well meant schemes of co-operation and the like are insufficient and, in part, prejudicial remedies. They do not aim at the removal of selfishness but rather sanction it. They would enable a certain number of poor men to grow comparatively rich; and the probable result would be that small capitalists would be less liberal and more grasping than large ones. A number of jointstock companies would be created, whose dealings with the employed would have even less of the element of sociable feeling than is produced by existing relations. A thousand shareholders with a hundred pounds apiece would probably show more strongly than a single man with a hundred thousand pounds the selfishness characteristic of companies, which notoriously have no conscience. Moreover, the scheme neglects the essential essential condition of success in all branches of enterprise, that of unity of central management.

No co-operative society has yet succeeded in production except on the smallest scale; and the division between capitalists and employed is not an arbitrary and transitory arrangement, but one which is likely to be strengthened and deepened by the development of society. We want a change in morality rather than in organisation; and the ultimate ideal is a state of things in which labourers regard themselves as the rank and file, and capitalists as the generals in a great industrial army. The army, in fact, is the type of effective organisation, for in military matters alone the primary object has always been to get the work thoroughly done. The spirit of honour which holds an army together must be replaced by a similar spirit in industrial labours; and it is one main duty of the priesthood to impress this lesson upon all men, and to intervene by spiritual censures in cases where it is palpably neglected. The capitalist who spends money for his own luxury will be excommunicated, as the general who should embezzle funds meant for the support of his troops would now be condemned by public opinion.

The force of much of this is undeniable. Undoubtedly co-operation is not a panacea. It might leave men as selfish as it found them. It is improbable, or it certainly has not been shown in practice, that a co-operative society can ever rival an individual capitalist; at any rate, the cases in which we can expect the principle to be applicable are limited in number, and, it may be, will always remain exceptional. Nor would any one deny it to be a matter of immense importance that a higher tone of morality should pervade industrial society from its base to its summit; the dishonesty of great financials on a large scale, the petty cheating of small tradesmen, and the bad work of idle artisans, are all evils

which do more to injure society than trades unions or foreign competition. Positivists propose to remedy these evils by systematically altering human nature and developing the instincts at present subordinated to a reckless selfishness. If the plan is somewhat bold, it at least does not underrate the evil nor propose to apply a superficial remedy to a deep-seated complaint. Yet here again the ultimate end proposed would fail to satisfy minds in which the hatred of disorder is not exaggerated to something like a monomania. The prolétaires of Comte are to be well educated; each is to have a house of his own with seven rooms; and a income amounting to about fifty pounds a year. In the industrial army, all the rank and file are to be as nearly as possible on a level; each will be capable of turning his hand to any branch of work; and they will labour in the spirit of men discharging a lofty duty. No one will complain of the education and the comfortable houses provided for these imaginary persons; nor to their working with more zeal and in a better spirit than labourers have hitherto exhibited. But the military analogy suggests some difficulties. It was put forward at the late Trades Union Commission, by Mr. Herman Merivale, and puzzled some of the witnesses who were dilating on the evils attendant upon a regular rate of wages. Soldiers, it was suggested, are paid uniformly, why not artisans ? It might have been suggested that soldiers have motives, besides that of military honour, which are absent in the other case. A soldier has a chance of some promotion even in the English army; and, moreover, a soldier who does not do his duty may be shot; and till lately, might be flogged. If labourers would submit to a rigorous discipline whilst labouring, and to severe punishment in the case of desertion, manufacturers might pay what

wages they chose. When an effective army can be kept together by purely moral restraints, the same principles may be more hopefully applied to the case of artisans. Again, the prime object of military discipline is blind unreasoning obedience; though even that object is pursued too far when it is carried out at the expense of individual intelligence; soldiers may be made to approach too closely to machines. The ideal soldier, however, would restrain the activity of his intelligence within very narrow bounds, and would go where he is told to go without presuming to ask the reason why. In some cases, a similar spirit may be required in industrial enterprises: there are also many in which intelligent co-operation is not only useful but essential in the labourer. There are cases where a single leader had best determine all that is to be done and assign a task to each subordinate, of whose ultimate tendency he is the only judge. There are others the collieries of Mr. Briggs might be an example-in which the end is so plain to each labourer that is desirable that he should exercise a good deal of individual freedom of action. In the former cases, co-operation will be always impracticable; in others, it may turn out that co-operation is really the most effectual mode of applying forces. The absurdity seems to be in laying down one rule for all the infinitely various applications of human industry. If men were as well educated as M. Comte would desire, many of the present difficulties would disappear at once. The labouring classes would take to occupations, in which individual responsibility was at its minimum or its maximum, according to circumstances. If an average working mason was as intelligent a man as an average lawyer, he would choose for himself according to circumstances; and the development of a higher degree of prudence and self

control would of itself put a stop to the existing evils which result from a crushing poverty. The self-regarding virtues, the desire for independence and a moderate wish to rise in the world, are most effectual agencies, though not all sufficient, towards promoting a healthier state of society. Even a soldier wishes for promotion and it may be for a share of prize-money; and it is hard to see why there should be no noncommissioned offices in the industrial army, which are now useful in providing stepping-stones for the rise of intelligent men towards higher stations in life. Trust in providence is a good thing, and it may be good in some degree even when for a supernatural providence we substitute 14,000 bankers; but it will not make a nation better if it crushes the supplementary virtues of moderate ambition and energy in looking after ourselves. Without professing to crush these virtues, the Positivist looks upon them askance and preaches submission much more eloquently than independence and self-respect. Co-operation is bad in his eyes because it is meant to create a numerous class of independent people of small wealth. To ordinary people this is an advantage. They admit that co-operation is likely to fail in many instances, because it supposes an amount of prudence which it cannot create. But if the idea becomes popular, it will help to create it, and will, at least, offer new opportunities for the development of such prudence and forethought as exists.

In short, it seems that here again we have a onesided and exaggerated view of human nature. That every one should labour honourably for the good of others is desirable; but that the good of others should be his sole or paramount object is not simply chimerical, but also far from the best ideal. We should rather look forward to a more diversified condition of society, in which each

man should have ample room for the development of all spiritual and intellectual faculties which are not injurious to his neighbours. Comtists propose an impossible simplification, in which the one motive for labour of all kinds should be the good of the world at large, and all the passions having for their primary object the benefit of the individual be compressed within the narrowest possible limits.

The merits of Positivist teaching may be very doubtful; though by the necessary limitations of our subject we have given at best only a fragmentary view of a small part of the doctrines which it inculcates. But it is easy, we think, to understand its attraction for many minds. It is a protest against two tendencies: against those who would improve society by trying to go back wards and revive obsolete forms of faith; and more emphatically against those who consider the present anarchical condition of the world to be its final and permanent state, and render chaos still more chaotic by preaching individualism and the denial of all authority as the ultimate gospel. Positivists would restore authority, but would found it on reason frankly and unreservedly. They would establish order, and would make society symmetrical and

harmonious at the price of destroying many elements of great present importance. We believe that their system is in many ways chimerical and absurd; we have not the slightest expectation that human nature will run in the grooves which they have traced for it, or that their ver sion of the Thirty-nine Articles will be found to comprise all human faith. But we will admit in fairness that they denounce many great evils and preach some admirable lessons. The very grotesqueness of their scheme brings into bolder relief some of the valuable ideas which it embodies, and though we hold that they are fundamentally wrong on many important topics, we hope that the truths imbedded in a mass of absurdities may work their way into general acceptance, and survive the disintegration of the complicated structure which they now hold up for our admiration. This has been the fate of many other schools of thought, which have flourished and decayed, but bequeathed their legacy of truth to future generations; and the opponents of Comtism will do their work most effectually if they will recog nise the simple fact that opinions which sway many minds owe their power, not to the falsehoods, but to the truths which are in them.

HE morning repast is over: and whether it be consumed in court or cabin, in society or in solitude, by lounging club-man of the Albany, or weather-beaten clod-hopper of the fields, sitting by the lane side, his little granddaughter by his knee, waiting and prattling until the tin pitcher is empty, and it is time for her to trot home with it, I hope all are the better of it. Ah! woe is me for the man whose heart is too sad, or too low, to eat breakfast, and who is launched unprovisioned on the cold work of the world. Amid the well fed wayfarers who jostle him on every side, he is pretty sure to go to the wall. A worn and fainting spirit has not a chance unless its tenement of clay be reasonably sustained. If it fail at breakfast the contest is over. It may haul down the flag and surrender.

:

Now, however, the matutinal prologue is spoken. The play has begun,-comedy, tragedy, farce, grave and gay, high life and low life. All the parts which feverish mortals act have been crowded into those eight or ten hours which we call a day and now for the epilogue of Dinner. Back come the players with whom we parted in the morning, to wind up the performance. But very different are they from the group which sat round the breakfast table, or the hermits who devoured their solitary meal. Captain Clavering, refreshed by a bracing day's shooting, you would hardly recognise as the growling taciturn recluse who would not speak to Nelly in the morning. He is gallant, exuberant, and joyous, in all the splendour of radiant linen, rich and rare, though unobtrusive studs, and the quiet perfection of his evening toilet. Mamma

is brilliant with smiles and the newest of head-dresses: and as to Laura and Nelly, as they sail in under the mild refulgence of the ante-prandial light, surely never alighted on this earth a more delightful vision.

the

All hail, Dinner of the Britons! 'thou great God of our idolatry.' Other nations eat, nay, fare sumptously. Philippe and the Trois Frères have meat and cooks not to be rivalled. But they know not what it is to dine in the sense of the British constitution. Dinner brings us, like Hesperus, all good things, home to the wanderer, to wearied rest. Does a country cousin come with a note from your aunt? Of course you ask him to dinner. Do you meet a friend fresh from the Antipodes, whom you have not seen for thirty years? You have nothing to say to each other, but you ask him to dinner. Has an old acquaintance grown shy of you? Have you had a little difficulty with a comrade? You meet unexpectedly, colour up to the temples, and stammer out unmeaning preposterous words, but you have asked him to dinner, and you are the dearest friends on earth. Has a patriot done great things for his country? Has a general saved her in the field? Not for them the laurel or the civic crown; what can a grateful nation do but invite them to dinner? Sacred then be the solemn rite. Favete linguis-tread gently the carpeted ante-room of the temple; let your voice be soft and low, and wait with subdued reverence the opening of the folding doors, and the splendours of the feast.

Doctor. If breakfast be a solitary meal, dinner is unquestionably gregarious. All men hate to dine alone.