derful modesty. He was the humblest thing breathing.' He would not be called 'Padre' or 'Maestro,' only Fra Paolo.' Though his life was one long disease, though he was enfeebled by a painful malady, a bad digestion and slow circulation, and probably also by the abstinence which he habitually practised, partly from fear of poison, partly in order to keep his brain clear, he is said never to have spoken an impatient word. He never gave trouble. He would throw himself on a chest to sleep, or wake all night if he were interested in some piece of work. The only complaint which his friends made was that in his last illness he would not take care of himself, would not be served, would not allow one of the brethren to sleep in his room, to the very last would show himself in chapel and refectory; showing in all this not only indomitable courage, but also that self-will which is inseparable from a great character. He died as he had lived,-hated, maligned, plotted against, employed, trusted, beloved; having received no promotion from the Church, and from the State the only reward it could give to one who refused all rewards, the right of serving Venice to the end. And in fact two days before his death he obeyed a summons to the Palace, and gave his attention and his advice on an important matter of State; and on the very day on which he died he dictated a State paper at the request of the Signory. As he drew near his end he said, 'I have consoled you as long as I could; it is now your turn to cheer me.' He repeated the Nunc dimittis' frequently; he was heard to say, 'Quem proposuit Deus Mediatorem per fidem in sanguine suo.' His last words were, 'It is time to go to St. Mark's-we shall be late,' and after a pause, Esto perpetua.' The Such was the man whom now, 270 years after his death, the City of Venice has honoured with a statue and a festival. statue, a colossal figure in bronze from the hand of Signor Emilio Mavrilio, was inaugurated on the 20th September, 1892, the anniversary of the day of Victor Emanuel's entry into Rome. It is characteristic of the time rather than of the man, that a day was chosen which, while recalling the triumph of the principle in defence of which Fra Paolo's life was spent, recalls also a sentiment of disunion rather than of Catholicity. No religious hallowing accompanied the ceremony, though Fra Paolo died a Catholic Christian, after receiving the last sacraments, and with the firmest expressions of faith. He is ranked in Italian memory with Galileo, Bruno, and Campanella. But Galileo was a man of science, not a controversialist; Bruno and Campanella, if not atheists, were philosophers rather than Christians. Sarpi was a devout Catholic; and he would, if he had lived to-day, have regretted the secular zeal which cannot separate the temporal sovereignty from the Church, and which is rather polemical than religious. Yet we are bound to confess that in the orations with which his memory was celebrated last year, this side of his character is not ignored, and his politics and his religion are kept apart. We only regret that the motive of this secular canonization should have been hostility to the Vatican, represented by so excellent a Pontiff as Leo XIII., not the hope of a reconciliation between Vatican and Quirinal. But we cannot have everything; and Italian liberty of to-day may point proudly to the Venetian friar as the forerunner of the great men who created Italy in 1860 in spite of Pius IX. and his Curia. As the man who desired the liberty of the Church and the freedom of the State from priestly control, Italy has a right to claim him as one of her noblest patriots, and the harbinger of her liberty. It is an illustration of the vanity of human studies that one of the first natural philosophers of his age should now be chiefly known as the author of a History which is read by none but historians. But some compensation for this may be found in the recollection that it is principally for the beauty of his moral character, the purity, modesty, and impartiality which were found in company with a rare intellect, that a later age still takes pleasure in hearing the story of Father Paul. And the more we read of him, the more we are inclined to repeat the lament of his friends when they lost him, 'Non verrà più mai un Fra Paolo.' Art. 6 ART. V.―The Unseen Foundations of Society: an Examination of the Fallacies and Failures of Economic Science due to neglected Elements. By the Duke of Argyll, K.G., K.T. London, 1893. HOMAS CARLYLE, in one of his letters to Varnhagen von Ense, well speaks of the art of writing' as 'the outcome of many arts and gifts.' The grand secret of it,' he continues, 'is insight, and just appreciation, and understanding by head, and especially by heart.' These words indicate, admirably, the merit of the Duke of Argyll's new work. It is the book of a man who has eyes to see and heart to understand, and who has set down for us in a clear, distinct, and accurate shape what it is that he has seen and understood. But more than this: the Duke not only puts before us, with lively and luminous diction, what he holds on the important theme with which he deals; he also shows us how it was that he came to hold it. Hence his work has the additional charm of that inwardness (if we may use the word) which renders autobiography so especially fascinating. Man is perennially interesting to man. The history of the workings of another mind in the quest for truth, in any department of human thought, possesses a peculiar value quite apart from the results reached. This it is which renders such books as St. Augustine's Confessions,' Cardinal Newman's 'Apologia,' and M. Renan's 'Souvenirs d'Enfance et de Jeunesse,' so attractive to cultivated readers of the most diverse schools of thought. This it is which specially marks off the Duke of Argyll's volume from all other treatises with which we are acquainted, on a theme usually regarded, through the fault of its expositors, as dry, dull, and dismal. We gather from the Duke of Argyll's preface that he began life as a disciple of the economic school commonly associated with the name of Adam Smith. This was mainly due to his early familiarity with the life and speeches of the younger Pitt, whom, he tells us, 'I regarded, and do still regard, as, on the whole, the greatest figure in our political history.' 'There was, however,' the Duke goes on to observe, a wide margin in Mr. Pitt's case between the intellectual perception of great general principles, and the possibilities which were open to him in the direction of their full practical application. was forced, by the almost universal state of public sentiment in England, to make large concessions to the policy of Protection, and, in some passages, his language is emphatic in disclaiming any abandonment of that policy as regarded the competition of foreign countries, or as regarded the special favour which was then always held to be due to our own colonies. He colonies. The imperative necessities of a long and arduous war displaced altogether from politics, for many years, any question of applying the doctrines of Adam Smith to a reform of our fiscal or commercial system; and when peace came at last, it came with circumstances of alarm from falling values which gave a new and firmer hold than ever to the antagonistic doctrines of Protection.' Still, however restrained by the necessities of that stern time from translating the Smithian doctrine into practice, there is abundant evidence that Pitt had imbibed and assimilated much of it; in particular, The famous speech in February 1785, on his proposals for Free Trade with Ireland-badly as that speech has been reported—is full of sentences inspired by the spirit and the doctrines of the illustrious Scotch economist.' It was from Pitt and Adam Smith, then, that the Duke of Argyll learnt the principles of Free Trade. The following is his account of the influence exercised by public events in impressing those principles upon his mind: 'My own education on the subject began with the circumstances which brought about the memorable conversion of Sir Robert Peel. I was a constant and attentive listener, under the gallery of the House of Commons, to the great debates which preceded and followed his attainment of power in 1841. I could not but observe the very careful and guarded terms in which he handled the abstract doctrine of Protectionism-the large admissions he made, and the direction which his opinions were evidently taking in the line of retreat, with the inevitable result of complete abandonment. When the crash of the potato famine came, I had personal and painful experience of the economic lessons to be learnt from all its causes and from all its results. I had to deal with a large population on some parts of my own property, many of whom were in danger of starvation. It was only by heavy outlays, both on emigration and on agricultural works, that the danger was removed, and a happier condition of things was at last established. I became a convinced Free Trader. But it was in Free Trade in all its completeness that I alone believed. Free Trade in the products of the soil could not be met except by Free Trade also in land itself, and by conducting agriculture and landowning as a business on the same conditions on which other businesses are conducted when open to competition. The doctrine of Burke, often praised by Cobden, and since epitomised by Mr. Morley, seemed to me the only sound doctrine-namely this, that it is a “futile and mischievous system to deal with agriculture as if it were different from any other branch of commerce.' It seemed evident to me that the battle of open competition with the foreigner in our own markets could not be fought unless the skill, capital, and enter * Morley's 'Life of Cobden, vol. i. p. 167. prise of our own people had access equally free to the employment. of all these resources upon farms adequately equipped for them, and thrown open to the choice of the fittest men on such terms as they might freely offer. Thrift in personal expenditure,-large outlays on the permanent improvements of land,-perfect freedom of contract. in the selection of men who were most capable of turning those equipments to good account, the abandonment of antiquated customs, the introduction of new minds and new skill,--the adoption of new methods-these, and these alone, were obviously the only possible conditions of success. In some places small agricultural holdings which were dangerously subdivided were enlarged as oppor-tunities arose. Elsewhere, substantial farms had to be provided at great cost, with new houses, fences, and drains. Acting on these principles, in the course of years, gradually but surely, I have had the satisfaction of seeing some large populations, and some wide areas of country, assume altogether a new face." When entering upon public life the Duke of Argyll joined that group of statesmen who inherited the traditions of Sir Robert Peel, of which group he and Mr. Gladstone are now the only survivors, and was absorbed with them in Lord Aberdeen's Coalition Cabinet of 1853. His bond of sympathy with the Whigs was resistance to any attempted return to the system of Protection. But he sympathised imperfectly with the Manchester School, although he formed a close friendship with its most illustrious member, John Bright. He disliked the narrowness of the school, their class feeling, and their indifference to the evils for the mitigation of which the Factory Acts were passed. He felt that their views of Political Economy moved within a comparatively contracted circuit of ideas. And this feeling led him to question much which had been taught in its name, and which he had accepted, 'just as we all passively accept a great deal without any close analysis or testing thought,' and to betake himself to the close and systematic study of economic science: In reading the old orthodox economists, with, however, little critical resistance, I had always been more or less conscious of a want almost on every page-which, even to myself, I could hardly specify or define. They seemed to me like men always sounding in abysmal waters-always busy in recording depths -but wholly unconscious that their lead had never touched the bottom. I felt constantly as if-down below the short limit of their line-there were deep currents running, of which they took no note whatever. "We start, for soul is wanting there," was a line of Byron which kept constantly repeating itself in my ear. Many superficial facts were admirably observed, and a tremendous superstructure was often built upon them. Far more funda mental |