A FEW MORE WORDS ON IMPERIAL FEDERATION. By W. E. Forster THE RUSSIAN ADVANCE IN CENTRAL ASIA. By Sir Henry Rawlinson 557 A SCHEME FOR IMPERIAL FEDERATION. By Sir Samuel Wilson THE COMPARATIVE STUDY OF GHOST STORIES. By Andrew Lang IN CASE OF INVASION. By Archibald Forbes GORDON AT GRAVESEND: a Personal Reminiscence. By Arthur DIET IN RELATION TO AGE AND ACTIVITY. By Sir Henry Thompson OUR SYSTEM OF INFANTRY TACTICS: WHAT IS IT? By Sir Patrick A FARM THAT REALLY PAYS. By J. Bowen-Jones 'THE FAITHFULL SHEPHERDESSE.' By Lady Archibald Campbell 1031 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. No. XCV.-JANUARY 1885. CÆSARISM. MOST people will by this time have read Mr. Drummond's book, Natural Law in the Spiritual World. Some consider that its publication begins a fresh era in the history of theological study, and that its author has really discovered an entirely new way of approaching the subject. Even those who doubt whether he has succeeded in showing, as he professes to do, that the study of the Christian religion is only a higher branch of natural science, have been fascinated by his work. It certainly presents spiritual truths in a new light, and brings them home in a manner which we have long ceased to expect from either commentary or sermon. I am not, however, about to review this book. I only wish to call attention to a particular chapter, and to consider it as an illustration not of religious, but political life. I mean the chapter on Parasitism. We find there a description of a creature which once had eyes and ears like other animals, legs that could walk and swim, and jaws with which it could eat, but which, by fixing itself into the body of a shell-crab, and acquiring the habit of drawing all its sustenance, ready digested, from the creature to which it has attached itself, gradually loses all its limbs, all its organs of every description, and becomes a mere bulb. Mr. Drummond makes use of this image to depict the character of the indolent unreasoning adherent of a popular preacher; but, my head being full of politics when I read it, I could not help applying the description to a large number of those who take part in public life, who attend monster meetings, VOL. XVII.-No/95. B and who, without ever having thought seriously for themselves, nevertheless, by their mere number and the loudness of their voices, exercise a strong influence upon the decision of important questions. But I postpone for the moment any allusion to the present day. The little animal described by Mr. Drummond is an admirable type of the inhabitants of a civilised nation which formerly enjoyed liberty, but in which despotism has been established. A Roman citizen at the time of the Empire is the first example that occurs to me, and we may find many others-a Greek, for instance, or an Italian in those cities which, having been republics, had fallen into the hands of a tyrant. The French during the Second Empire showed marked signs of getting into the same condition. But the French never do anything like anybody else, and they have, I hope, succeeded in breaking their bonds. Such bonds have very seldom been broken before. In general, tyranny does not come till the citizens have thoroughly degenerated, and when it has once come it does not pass away, for the simple reason that the citizens are unable to exist without it. Perhaps the true reason of the extraordinary recovery of the French is that their tyranny was an accidental one, and that the degeneration necessary for it to flourish had not really taken place, though, as I have said, it was beginning as a result of the tyranny. The connection between Cæsarism and the degeneration of the people is one of action and reaction. Either may come first, but in most cases it is, I think, the latter. History, I think, teaches us this, and it also teaches us that for some reason or other this degeneration very often takes place after the establishment of a democracy. It is, moreover, to be noted that when it follows the establishment of a democracy, it follows it almost immediately. The difficulty, therefore, for democracy is to obtain a fair start. If it is not strangled at its birth, it may be expected to go on living, and the longer it lasts the better hope is there of its resisting its natural enemies, degeneration and the Cæsarism which is its accompaniment. There has been much discussion as to whether there is, or is not, such a thing as a science of history. This science, if it exists, is, I admit, very imperfect. There is no doubt, however, that in certain respects history has a strong tendency to repeat itself; and it is possible sometimes to form a pretty accurate forecast of the future by observing what on other occasions has been the result of circumstances similar to the present. It is, indeed, from its assistance to us in this respect that the study of history derives its chief use and its chief interest. One of the lessons which this study teaches us with the greatest distinctness is, that different forms of government have a tendency to follow one another in a particular order. The rule is, of course, subject to many exceptions. A state may be conquered by some other power in the middle of its career, and cease to have a separate being, or some abnormal action may take place within its own limits. As a rule, however, a monarchy is succeeded by an oligarchy; an oligarchy, after a more or less prolonged struggle, by a democracy; and a democracy by the dominion of an autocrat. I may remark, in passing, that the chief difference between the king who begins the series, and the despot who ends it, is that the king leans more or less upon the nobles who are destined in the course of nature to supplant him, and the despot upon the people whose power he has appropriated. I have said that there are exceptions to the rule. But they are often only so in appearance. A king is some-. times overthrown by a democracy; but it is in general only for a short time, and either he or his heir is pretty sure to be restored to the throne. An oligarchy is sometimes apparently subjugated by an autocrat, but it is by the autocrat placing himself at the head of the people under the pretence of liberating them, and in most cases the rudiments of an intervening democracy, however imperfect and transitory, may be discovered by a careful eye. Any person who wishes to verify what I have stated will find a boundless field for observation among the Greek cities of antiquity, and, excepting as regards a monarchy, the Italian cities of the Middle Ages. But the most perfect example of the whole sequence is presented to us by the greatest state that ever existed. It may bę seen in the history of Rome from the time of Tarquin to that of Augustus. What militates against the theory that I have laid down is that there is nothing to confirm it in the development of the larger states of Europe during the Middle Ages. In tracing this development we seem to enter the dominion of an entirely new law. Perhaps it is that we have not yet arrived at the point from which our theory started. Perhaps we are going back to the original process of the formation out of chaos of the monarchy with which I have assumed the series of different forms of government to begin. There is no time so deeply interesting as the Middle Ages. We greedily read everything that even for a moment really illuminates their tantalising twilight. But we feel that we are in an altogether different world from the one around us. Indeed our very interest in the Middle Ages comes in a great measure from their complete want of connection with the present. We feel far more at home when we read of Rome and Greece in the days of their highest civilisation, and we have far more affinity with that period. I do not then think it wrong to assume that the historic laws which prevailed in those days are more likely to prevail now than those which governed the actions of our barbarous ancestors, all the more as I see the civilised states of Italy even during the Middle Ages subject to the same historic laws as ancient Greece and Rome. I will then put aside the Middle Ages in the inquiry which I am about to prosecute. There is a generally recognised landmark where the Middle Ages are by common consent supposed to end, and modern history to begin. I refer to the time of the discovery of America, the Reformation, and the revival of classical learning. I will take this as my starting-point. I began this article with reference to our own country, and I now return to it. Let us consider at what period in the history of a nation we have arrived, and whether our history up to the present moment adapts itself to my theory. Starting from the beginning of the sixteenth century, we may say, speaking roughly, that we have run the usual course: first through monarchy not only nominal, but real; then through aristocratic government, tempered indeed, both from above and from below, but sufficiently marked not to remove us from the common type, and latterly further and further into democracy, till, if it is not yet altogether our form of government, it promises to be so in a short time. Such has been our course till now, and every change that has taken place hitherto appears to me to have been inevitable. I will not enter into an argument as to what is the best form of government. In my opinion a democracy, if it can only last, and if law and order can be maintained under it, has at least as much to recommend it as anything else. But whether we like it or not is a matter of small importance. It has come upon us in the course of nature, and nothing could have prevented it. Looking back through the last three centuries, we see no point where the stream could have been dammed, or where any attempt to dam it was otherwise than productive of evil. On the other hand, any effort on the part of our rulers to hasten the course of events produced a temporary reaction. If the power of the monarch was prematurely put an end to in the time of Charles the First, the result was after a few years to increase for a moment the authority of Charles the Second. But when public opinion had definitely decreed that the centre of power must be shifted, nothing could have prevented the change. If the revolution against James the Second had been deferred, it would only have been more complete, and the supreme rule, having once slipped away from the Crown, never was and never could have been restored to it. Next followed what I have called the period of aristocratic government. But it is only we who look back to it who call it by that name, and only when we speak rather loosely. Because authority was centred in the House of Commons, men imagined at the time that they lived in a free country, and the oligarchy, whom we now look upon as having pulled the strings, took care to disguise their power by speaking in the name of Liberty. There was still a great deal of latent strength in the Crown, as George the Third discovered when he began to draw upon it. In times of excitement the people could already make their voices pretty distinctly heard. But after making these admissions in favour of the king on the one hand, and of the people on the other, we may say that during the whole period |