stoutest democrat in his place could | terrible price to pay even for the suphave won.

port of the territorial party. Of all the concessions Count Taaffe has ever made, this is the most unjustifiable ; the only excuse that can be offered for

The give-and- take principle has proved less successful when applied to economic subjects. When, in 1879, Count Taaffe assumed the management his having consented to it, is that he of affairs, the Socialists were already a had no alternative; to refuse would power in the land. Their leaders, have meant a ministerial crisis. He Herr Maxen and Herr Meyer, both has certainly done his best, too, to foreign refugees, had entered into a atone for his crime, if crime it were. close alliance with Count Belcredi, One useful measure after another was Prince Alois Liechtenstein, and other passed through the Reichsrath during members of the Feudal and Clerical his administration: poor laws, factory parties, and were propagating the wild-laws, laws for the protection of women est schemes for the regeneration of the and children, laws to bring home to people. The premier, as a practical employers their duties and responsiman, has little sympathy with Social- bilities to the employed. Struggling ism; and, as a statesman, views with industries have been fostered, and suspicion all allies of the Vatican party; municipal authorities encouraged to still, the distress in the country was too undertake useful works, whilst strinreal and general for him to venture to gent regulations against jobbery have ignore any efforts for the amelioration been introduced. Nothing short of a of the condition of the poor. He ap-miracle- and the age for miracles is pointed Count Falkenhayn, who holds past -- could render Austria, army-bepronounced Socialist views, minister ridden as she is, financially a prosperof agriculture; and assured Count Bel-ous country; still, all that human credi of his readiness to support any ingenuity could suggest, all that infinite well considered measures of social and patience could devise, was done during economic reform. Belcredi and his Count Taaffe's régime to adjust at least friends at once began to formulate laws the terrible burden under which she for the regulation of industries of every struggles to the backs that are best able sort and kind. They were theorists, to bear it. The count, too, has done however, rather than legislators; the his utmost to give the working classes very vastness of their scheme rendered a voice in the management of the afit impracticable. Before a tithe of the fairs of the empire. Already in 1881, work they had undertaken was accom- he lowered the franchise so far as his plished, a split in their own ranks re- supporters would allow him. And the duced them to impotence. Meanwhile measure by which he has provoked the the difficulties of his position had storm now raging against him is a driven Count Taaffe into courses which thoroughgoing electoral reform bill. If effectually alienated from him the sym- it pass-and pass it must sooner or pathy, not only of the Socialists, but of later, in one form or another-every all sound economists. The agricultural Austrian male subject will have a vote, interests of the country had been for providing he be twenty-four years of years in a state of the most deplorable age and upwards, that he can read and depression; and, in an evil moment, write, and that he have fulfilled his the premier, yielding to the pressure of military duties. Thus the electorate, the great land-holders, placed a tax on which is now only some one million imported corn. This tax is the more seven hundred thousand, would at one iniquitous, as almost the whole of the fell swoop be raised to between three land being in the hands of the great and four millions. nobles, it is the very poor upon whom it presses most heavily, the very rich alone who reap from it advantage. The passing of such a measure was a ified success.

Count Taaffe's policy with regard to the nationalities, though through no fault of his, has not proved an unqualThe dominant races,

both in Bohemia and Poland, use the | bribes, promises, and threats. In any power which he, in return for their other country in Europe a minister support, has given them, to oppress who played Count Taaffe's rôle would most ruthlessly their weaker neighbors. be a miscreant and a traitor; but in The Czechs especially have shown Austria it is otherwise; there opporthemselves tyrannical and insatiable. tunism is the one art of ruling; and They have scornfully rejected the em- the count gave a signal proof of his peror's compromise-an attempt to loyalty and patriotism when, putting arrange a modus vivendi between them- aside all personal feelings, he set to selves and the German Bohemians work determinedly to serve his country, and they are now openly waging war not as he would have liked to serve it, against Count Taaffe, in revenge for not as he believed he best could serve his refusal to consent to the coronation it, but in the only way it is willing to at Prague.

This they do, although be served. they are fully aware that a coronation would entail civil war in the land. When Dr. Gregr took Dr. Rieger's place, the ex-premier knew he must look for supporters elsewhere; no terms that he could offer would satisfy the young Czechs' cormorant leader.

From The Cornhill Magazine.

MEMORIES OF THE MASTER OF BALLIOL.

IT was a very remarkable gathering - that gathering of men in the Balliol Chapel- to mourn for the master who had been taken from their head. Walkers in various paths of life, thinkers of various ways of thought, had found their paths and ways all converge in sorrow for a common loss not only to the college, but to their time and fatherland. The coffin lay upon its trestles shoulder high. Over it fell a purple pall, made white with floral tributes; but the greatest tribute there was the presence of such men of busy life and active mind, come to pay grateful homage to the memory of their spiritual father. For indeed he was their spiritual even as he was their intellec

Count Taaffe has fallen, or rather he has stepped aside for a time-only for a time, nota bene that others may try their hand at solving some of the problems which have baffled him. During his fourteen years of premiership his opponents were unscrupulous and implacable, his supporters captious and vacillating; and he had to reckon with a Reichsrath which contains twelve distinct parties, each with interests, aspirations, and antipathies of its own. In such circumstances the wonder is, not that he should have done so little, but rather that he should have done anything at all. As the head of a progressive majority, he might have actual father, he who for so many years complished a noble work in the world; as the chief of a party such as his, his merit is that he has at least prevented evil being done. Probably no one re- A Scotch philosopher, an English grets more than he does the straits lord, and a Japanese earl came by me which compelled him, again and again, | and took their seats in silent sadness. to have recourse to somewhat unscrupu- The thought of the secret of Jowett's lous tactics and questionable manœuvres to keep together his heterogeneous troop of followers, and thus frustrate the schemes of those whom he regards as the enemies of the State. By nature he is a straightforward, plain-dealing man; and it was only hard necessity that drove him to govern by playing off Then forth from the chapel we went, party against party, nation against na- a great crowd. But where were the tion, and lavishing on each in turn personal mourners? where the rela

of incessant labor and marvellous energy had taught them all how best to be about their Father's business.

power to reach, through these his pupils, such divers worlds crossed one's mind, and as one noted that just opposite sat together the Dean of Westminster, the speaker of the House of Commons, and Professor Huxley, the wonder grew.

"I don't know what is become of him. I never knew him."

tives? Close behind the coffin came | talked at all about his relations-inthe faithful servants of the house, deed seemed a little huffed when asked hardly able to restrain their grief; but after a certain cousin who was known brothers and sisters, nephews or nieces, as "Joe Jowett" in the Kettering there were none. Only, as we moved neighborhood some thirty years ago, through the quiet quadrangle towards and answered sharply: the St. Giles' entrance, a voice seemed to say, "I have no need of relations in the flesh, seeing I have such near ones To such an apparently friendless in the spirit. Behold! all these that youth Balliol became father, mother, follow me are sons." It was indeed a sister, and brother; and one could unstriking instance of the strength of the derstand upon reflection what was spiritual tie that this man, who sixty meant when he said, "I owe everyyears ago had taken Balliol College thing to the college." For he had unto himself as bride, should now be climbed from high to higher. Scholar, borne along to burial by such a family fellow, and tutor; all but master in of sons and daughters (for women were 1854; master in 1870; unchanging in of the company) as followed the coffin his love and devotion to the great trust through the broad St. Giles and the imposed upon him; changeless almost narrow-streeted suburb, to that un- in cherubic face; changeless in dress lovely and unlovable resting-place in-tail-coated to the last-and so unJericho. changeable in his affectionate regard for the wife he had espoused when he became a scholar, that the very last words that fell from his lips before he died were "My love to the college." What were the secrets of this life of influence? They were many. First and foremost, resistless and untiring energy. In the old tutorial days, before he became master, his doors were open to every undergraduate who cared to be helped. Many a don felt that the day's work ceased with the last lecture; most were confident that after Hall came Common-room, and after Common-room rest, perhaps sleep. But from eight o'clock till midnight a stream of young men might be seen passing up to Jowett's rooms, with essays, iambics, Greek verse or prose - all coming, by invitation, for advice and help, and taking away not only corrections in metre and style, but new thoughts about the worth of work done thoroughly, and the possibility of serving others than themselves by the work they took in hand. It was this resistless energy that made him, as an undergraduate, work thirteen hours a day, as he once told a Siamese prince in my hearing.

"I owe everything to the college," Jowett used to say; and if one had been tempted to have replied, "The college owes everything to you," the master would certainly have said, "Not at all, not at all! You don't know what you are talking about." And, in a sense, it was true. For the little fair-haired lad, of cherub face, clad in tail-coat and short breeches tied at the knee with blue ribbon, who was the joke of his competitors for the Balliol scholarship long years ago, came nobody quite knew from whence, and seemed to have no relatives to return to. He might have been the son of a certain gentleman fond of flowers, of whom in 1810, at Cambridge, ran the quatrain :

A little garden little Jowett made,
And fenced it with a little palisade.
If you would know the mind of little
Jowett,

This little garden does no little show it.

Or, again, he might be the son of a worthy printer in Bolt Court, London. Some averred that his parents were well-known linen - drapers, near St. Paul's school. All that was really known was that, from the day he won The said Siamese prince had, as the the scholarship, Balliol became to porter pompously expressed it, "Comed the boy's heart home. He never into Balliol by the master's front door,

One

sir," had entered for his "Smalls," had sharply, "No, no; I don't want an telegraphed, so it was popularly under-arm. Just steady me - that's all." stood, to his father that he was in for Another secret of his influence with this, his first examination, and had men was his transparent candor-canpaid for a reply telegram, which, it is dor too transparent to be rude. asserted, ran as follows: "It is well. remembers how, at the first breakfast Fourteen youths of the nobler sort have with the master, we, who as trembling been sacrificed." But the propitiatory undergraduates had talked, or thought offering in Siam had failed to help in we had talked, of all things under the battle of the schools. The prince heaven and on earth, and had been had been plowed, and was sent for by unable to extract any replies whatever, the master. heard from the master's lips his opin"I am much ashamed of you," said ion of our chatter - "Good-morning, Jowett, in his sternest and jerkiest gentlemen. I think you must cultivate manner; "you are very idle-very conversational powers. Good-mornidle. You are no credit to your country, or to this college. How many hours a day do you work?"

To which the Siamese answered ingly, "Aw, master, I do work very hard. Sometimes three hours."

To whom replied the master, "You ought to work at least eight hours. When I was your age I worked thirteen."

66

ing."

This candor was so natural to the man that at times he ran risks of being smil-thought to be personal. Thus, for example, in one of his sermons in chapel we were electrified to hear him once say, "We see our old friends sitting in their study-chairs and getting narrower and narrower every day." Now, we saw one of those old friends actually sitting within a few feet of the preacher, and our ears tingled for the master; but it was quite evident that the preacher was in that condition of mind upon the matter that friends qua persons had ceased to exist for him, and the truth he wished to press home of the need of wide sympathy to the end of life had obliterated all thought or fear of the person of man.

It is true that one was convulsed at the time by hearing the prince say, with a grin from ear to ear, but in all good faith, Aw, but master, you have such a very big head!" but that "I used to work thirteen hours a day sank deep into one's mind.

From any one else it might have seemed a little rude to take a man out for a long walk, make no reply to a remark about the weather that had been at last made in sheer desperation, walk back a mile in silence, and turn round on the doorstep, shake hands, and say: "I don't think much of that last remark of yours — good-day;" but it came naturally from Jowett, and was said with such evident intent not to harm, but to help, that the man was not hurt by it at all.

It was this same unquenchable energy that made Jowett (at least so it is reported), when he was beginning to be ill two years ago, on hearing from his medical attendant that he was very seriously sick and must keep absolutely quiet, after much question and answer about the symptoms, bow the doctor out of his bedroom, with "Thank you, thank you!" — then rise from his bed, dress, order a hansom, go up to London, transact some business he felt important, and return to his bed. It was the same spirit that, as late as three years ago, when I met him at a station, refused to allow me to carry his luggage for him to the conveyance, with a short "I can do it myself." It was this spirit that, when on the occasion of the laureate's funeral, a year ago, I prof-break to humming a tune, and after a fered him an arm as we descended the long steps from the Chapter House to the cloisters, made him say, a little

By the way, what funny things those silent walks were! The master would, after a lap or two of silence, suddenly

turn or two of humming would relapse into silence. Sometimes he would astonish his companions by saying, "Shall

we run and get warm?" and away he would go till the younger would cry, Hold; enough!”

It was this candor that made him say once to a talkative young fellow who had come up to compete for the Balliol scholarship, and who had come into breakfast with his competitor-a very shy boy-and had asked whether his rival was a clever boy, "Yes; he'll get the scholarship—not you."

It was this candor that came to the front at a dinner party of men (old Balliol scholars) who had passed out with honors from the college, and were serving their country in various public posts of importance. One of them said, "Master, we should be very sorry to have to go in for the Balliol scholarship now; we should none of us pass," and all expected to hear Jowett say, "Oh, nonsense! You are all better scholars

now than then." But Jowett glanced round the table, and just said, "Yes, one of you would-Stanley, here."

It was this candor that enabled him, as it was currently reported, to say to the young man who had thrown up an important post in the Indian Civil Service and taken the twelve shillings a week pay of a captain in the Salvation Army, "I always thought you a foolish young man; but, on the whole, I have come to the conclusion that this is the wisest step you could have taken."

Of course, at times this blunt outspokenness and absolute reality were felt to be galling. Men who were deservedly snubbed smarted under it. But then the master knew generally what was in man; he studied men's characters, observed men closely, and even on the torture-rack of his long silences he learned something of their inner lives. So that if his words were sharp, they were often salutary.

A Greek scholar, with a great reputation and a fairly good opinion of himself, came up from a Scotch university and showed up an incontestably good copy of Greek Iambics. Jowett looked them over, and to the young man expectant of great praise quietly said, with his quaint blink of the eye, “Do you think, Mr. So-and-So, you could do anything in the way of mathematics?"

On another occasion, at one of the test-by-silence breakfasts, a young man who did most of the chatter said to his neighbor, "I seem to be doing all the talking." Jowett overheard him, and answered, Yes; very young men generally do that."

66

This reality of the master made him impatient of all sham or shoddy, and very much inclined to distrust all gush and all apparent unreality. It was a common story in old Balliol days that an undergraduate who had attended the master's lectures on "Natural Religion" thought it the right thing to pose as an unbeliever, and said, “The fact is, master, I cannot find evidence of a god anywhere."

"You must find one by midnight, or you will go down to-morrow," was the sharp answer that brought the young man to his senses, and discovered a

Once I feared his blunt outspokenness would have got him into serious trouble. A drunken flyman, one fine moonlight night, came to take us home after dinner from the house of a friend, and our host had gone to the door and expostulated with the incapable coachman. When we went out the driver had got down from the box, and ap-divinity that shaped his ends where it peared to wish to be squaring up to the master, with the words, "This gen'man says I'm drunk. What do you say?" I shall not soon forget the I remember his saying to a young look of calm serenity, nor the absolute man who had been talking rather gushtruthfulness and tone of unflinching ingly of his love for the poets, "Do assertion, with which Jowett - who you ever write poetry, Mr. M- ? " might have been pardoned for a certain" Yes-well, I do something in that evasion under the circumstances - said way," was the answer. "Never mind," to the flyman militant, "Yes, you are said the master, "how much you drunk-very drunk indeed." write, as long as you burn it all." It

was least expected, in the clear common sense that would stand no trifling or levity in serious things.