was practically at the mercy of the enemy. If under these circumstances General Wilson in confidence said something of a desponding character it was hardly to be wondered at. But according to what Mr. Bosworth Smith says, some one must have told Nicholson that the general had proposed to retire. Nicholson, who was in terrible pain, mortally stricken, and a man of irritable temper, well known to dislike Wilson, is reported to have said, "Thank God, I have strength enough left to shoot that man!" It would have been well if this episode had been buried in oblivion. It reflects little credit on the person who carried such a report to Nicholson on his death-bed. Nicholson had performed his duty in a magnificent manner, and he might well have been spared such doubtful information, which was sure to produce excitement and anger. take exception if there was space to do From The Spectator. CONTENT. I might say much more of Wilson, who for various reasons has been depreciated, but I will confine myself to the foregoing. Mr. Bosworth Smith has done me the honor to quote a passage from my narrative of the siege of Delhi, written in 1857, in which I endeavored to express the gratitude due to Sir John Lawrence by the army which captured Delhi for his vigorous and generous aid. What I said then about Sir John Lawrence I would re- THE question which has lately been peat now; but preceding this I wrote a raised in these columns as to the spiritual short description of the strong defences character of content deserves some conof Delhi and of the superior numbers and sideration. It seems a bold thing to say, ordnance of the defenders, and I added: but we will nevertheless say it, that prop"It will be allowed that the general whose erly understood, there is no more ambitask it was to take Delhi had no ordinary tious and aspiring virtue than content in enterprise in hand. Honor to him for his the Christian sense, none fuller of true resolution which persevered to the end, passion in the highest meaning of that and which led to the success that probably great, but much abused word. In this more than anything else will be found to sense, content is, indeed, something far have contributed to the restoration of higher than the virtue which Dekker British authority wherever it has been apostrophized in the beautiful lines, "Art shaken in India." To this opinion I ad- thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers, here, and I also adhere to the opinion IO sweet Content?" In the Christian then formed, and which is confirmed by sense, content has often no golden slummuch that I have learned since, that it is bers; it is not only not apathy, not slugdoubtful if there was any officer before gishness, not passiveness of mind, but in Delhi in 1857, though there were many St. Paul's sense it is radically inconsistofficers there who possessed high quali-ent with any dwindling tendencies, ties, who would have captured the place except General Wilson. There are several less important statements regarding the siege of Delhi in Mr. Bosworth Smith's book to which I would • Kaye says that Wilson asked the chief engineer if "he thought we could hold our own." Out of this not unnatural question appear to have arisen various fictions which have been accepted in depreciation of Wilson and in glorification of others. with shrinkings and contractings of the mind within the physical limits assigned to it. The ideal of content set before us by St. Paul is not passive acquiescence in anything, but rather a state of mind such as the Stoics cultivated, minus its haughtiness and its affectation of self-sufficiency. It is not an elastic contractibility enabling us to move without friction within the external conditions in which we find our nor selves, but an expansive force which re- | filled," and yet whether wanting or abound. gards these external conditions, change ing, whether hungry or filled, in either as they may, as the appointed meat and case alike how to be equally well satisfied drink of the higher spiritual qualities, the with the opportunity afforded by the moqualities by, virtue of which we are bound ment for responding in the right way, either so to mould the circumstances whether to the want, or to its satisfaction, which need moulding, or so to mould our- or to the call for active exertion. There selves, as to derive from these circum- is no passage in any spiritual writer which stances, or from our own action upon depicts a more active, a more expansive, them, the very stimulus or nourishment a more positively exalted attitude of mind which we most need. Take the passage than St. Paul describes in this passage as in which St. Paul describes to the Church the virtue of content. Content is the at Philippi what he means by content, condition of mind in which nothing can and notice in what curious and absolute foil the energy of the spirit. It is the contrast it is to anything like supineness quality, which, having evoked generosity or passivity. He expresses his joy that in others, flows forth in gratitude for that the Church there had revived its intention generosity; which, having failed to evoke of sending him help, and goes on, "Not generosity, manifests itself in submission that I speak in respect of want, for I have to disappointment and patient trust in the learned in whatsoever state I am, therein future germination of the seed sown; to be content." But nothing can be which, having neither succeeded plainer than that he does not mean to failed, but only perceived that more needs recommend passive acquiescence in an to be done before the work is finished, unsatisfactory state of the external con- shows itself in loyal and unremitting enditions of existence when it is possible to deavor to stir to generous effort those change them for the better, for the whole who are as yet supine. This is what the passage is a frank admission that he was true content means, that hearty willing. anxious for the display of generosity by ness alike for calamity, or joy, or weighty the Church at Philippi, extremely thank-responsibility, which is inspired by the ful that they had exerted themselves once magic secret that in each condition alike. and again on his behalf, and very grateful there is some divine spring of help, some personally to those who had been the opportunity of so dealing that the actual chief movers in the matter. What he conditions, however apparently calamiinsists on is that if the external condi- tous, shall be better, there and then, than tions of one's lot suggest active exertion any alternative, however bright. This is in order that they may be altered for the certainly the sense in which St. Paul rebetter, the active exertion shall be forth-garded content, - as resourcefulness of coming; while if they suggest active exer- the highest kind, involving a spiritual tion not for the purpose of altering them, elasticity of the highest kind, a power to but of altering oneself so as to make a transform what often seemed like mere better use of them, then that that active wounds and pangs and fetters into new exertion also shall be forthcoming. But strength and life and freedom. Surely in all and every case, the virtue of con- nothing less like a merely passive virtue tent does not consist in shrinking within can be imagined than the virtue of conthe limits set you, but in going out of tent as described by St. Paul. yourself, so to transform and transmute the conditions in which you find yourself as to make them feed some of the highest passions of the soul, gratitude, if the particular conditions specially call for gratitude; patience and forbearance and fortitude, if they call for patience, forbearance, and fortitude; inextinguishable zeal, persuasiveness, and sympathy, if the external circumstances seem to cry out for the exercise of a strong moulding and transforming power to recast and renovate them. Want, says St. Paul, is as great an opportunity for this alchemy of the soul as wealth. He has learned "how to be in want" and "how to abound," "how to be hungry" and "how to be en But, doubtless, there is a sense in which the world is right in supposing that content, even true Christian content, courages what the world wrongly regards as supineness, apathy, pliancy to circumstance. The superstition for supersti. tion it is that human energy should be strung to its highest pitch to people the earth, to multiply material wealth, and to increase the physical resources of civilization, is one with which the exercise of the virtue of Christian content can never be reconciled. If you are to regard want or demand only and solely as providing the opportunity for an increased supply, and not also as an opportunity for teaching you how best to bear, and learn the lesson nature of, want, you certainly do not regard it from the Christian point of view. We do not doubt for a moment that in the gospel of what we may call the Teutonic races, the first duty of man is to overcome physical difficulties wherever they are not insuperable, and to engage his whole soul in the conflict with the natural obstacles to human desires; but this is not a Christian and not a true gospel. It is, as Carlyle would say, a Berserkir gospel, the gospel of the sea-kings, the gospel of men who had derived their religion more from the worship of Thor than from the worship of Christ; but it is not a gospel that regards the perfection of the inward and especially the power at any higher call to forbear seeking what you most desire, as of infinitely more importance than the satisfaction of the natural desires. In this matter we do not besitate to say that the Protestant peoples have never yet recovered the higher standpoint of the Roman Catholic Church before the Renaissance, — the standpoint from which it matters comparatively little whether man achieves wonders or not in the conquest of the physical world, so long as he can achieve those greater wonders which consist in learning to extract gladness of the heart from persecution and misfortune, and true humility from wealth, prosperity, and praise. Even Matthew Arnold, who, with all his scepticism, thoroughly understands one of the great key-notes of Christianity, teaches England a great and needful lesson, when he reminds us how scornfully the more spiritual East regarded the physical irresistibility of Rome: The East bowed low before the blast - The "secret of Jesus," as even Matthew Arnold teaches us, is the secret that the satisfaction of desire is often a very poor thing, as compared with the deliberate waiving of our own desire, of our own self-will, a waiving of self-will which expresses an inward and higher form of the spiritual will itself. But which of the Teutonic nations, at least, has learned this secret? Not the English, who will cloud heaven and disfigure earth to get over a slight difficulty in moving a few tons of slate; not the Yankees, who sweep Red Indians out of their path much as they sweep rattlesnakes, with a total disregard of the opportunity offered them for chastising their own desires; not the Ger mans, who lavish blood and iron for rebuilding their empire, when they might have rebuilt it, probably even more solidly, by a less liberal expenditure of sweetness and light. Nor, indeed, so far as we can see, has any great modern people learned the secret. The view that the renunciation of a certain class of natural desires is often essential to the satisfaction of wants of an infinitely higher and purer order, is, we should say, almost confined nowadays to a few spiritual Christians, mostly Catholics, Anglicans, or Quakers, — and a few spiritual Buddhists, amongst whom we might, perhaps, include Mr. Arnold, and all the other believers in "the secret of Jesus," who, nevertheless, professedly at least, worship only "a stream of tendency not ourselves which makes for righteousness." Protestantism, properly so called, though in many respects a noble and spiritual, and in every respect a most manful creed, is in essence a fighting creed, and a creed which can hardly understand the overcoming of evil by any power but that of fighting, a creed whose devotees have never seriously considered or entered into the significance of our Lord's hint that there is much evil which will never be overcome by fighting it, and which may be overcome by ceasing to resist it, by suddenly conceding to its aggressive injustice even more of that which you have a right to concede, than evil itself demands. But then Protestantism is not the religion of content; it is the religion of discontent, of noble discontent, of grand discontent, of laborious discontent, but of discontent all the same, discontent with the physical obstacles to progress, discontent with the moral obstacles to progress, and discontent, most of all, with the moral failures and collapses within. In Carlyle's life and writings you see this discontent written out large, unassuaged by any gleam of revelation, and reduced to the naked rage of its primeval genius. So far as we know Protestantism, content has never been one of its favorite virtues. It has always preached the crusade against external difficulties rather than that magic "secret of Jesus," the surrender of the self-will which loves to wrestle with these difficulties. It has preached the gospel of progress, and not the gospel of content. But surely there is a limit to the truth of this gospel of progress, and surely most of us have long ago passed that limit. The English people, at least have, we believe, much more to learn in the direction of the surrender of their self-will and their darling desires, than they have in the direction of the maxim, "It's dogged as does it." It is by no means always "dogged as does it." Or rather, if it be "dogged as does it," the thing which "dogged" does, is often not nearly so well worth doing as the thing which renunciation does, if renunciation be animated by a truly spiritual motive. The creation of the Christian character is a product partly of Christian effort, but partly of the consequence of renouncing effort where the object of the effort is desired, as it so often is, chiefly out of indomitable self-will. The self-will of Englishmen is apt to be indomitable; but, in spite of the apparent paradox, the victories of the spirit which is content often to welcome defeat, are much greater than the victories of the spirit which revels in the reputation of indomitability, and holds on to self-will even with its dying clutch. over a beautiful district in what is now the county Roscommon, and went by the name of O'Birn, now usually Anglicised O'Beirne, but sometimes O'Byrne. One would be interested to know whether there are many people of the name of Byron or Biron in the county of Roscommon at the present day, and whether their theory of origin is that they came into Ireland as conquerors with Strongbow or refugees from Louis the Fourteenth. In the same neighborhood there was, in times gone by, a clan called MacRaghnaill. In Skene's "Celtic Scotland," by the way, I find the name Anglicised "Reginald." But the MacRaighnaill of Roscom. mon and Leitrim have been less fortunate. Poor people, they now write themselves Reynolds. Month and Catholic Review. IRISH NAMES. The extent to which the so-called "translation" of Irish names has gone in both the Gaelic lands, but especially in Ireland, is something surprising. Doubt less in the latter country it may have been to some extent helped by the operation of the Catholic religion under the barbarous Penal Laws. The Catholic priest naturally desires that the child brought to him for baptism shall be placed under the protection of some saint. But the priest, who as a boy had been driven for his education to France, Spain, or Italy, was apt in manhood to return to Ireland with but a very slight knowledge of Irish Christian antiquities. The name suggested at the font by the godfather or godmother standing before him, might, according to their statement; and very frequently in reality, be the name of some old Irish saint whose fame had not travelled so far as Paris or Valladolid. But if it could be anyhow twisted into the name of some saint of wider celebrity, we may be sure that the worthy man would not be sorry so to twist it. WEARING THE HAT IN PUBLIC WORSHIP. Many of these Irish saints were once famous -Jewish congregations worship with their in arms or song or learning or religion. But heads covered; so do the Quakers, although one and all they lie buried now- buried and St. Paul's injunctions on the matter are clearly forgotten in the sacred earth of some dis- condemnatory of the practice. The Puri mantled Irish sanctuary, amid the seven ruined tans of the Commonwealth would seem to churches of Clonmacnoise or the sculptured have kept their hats on, whether preaching or crosses of Monasterboice and Kells. Would being preached to, since Pepys notes hearing we seek them now, we must go to Irish stones, a simple clergyman exclaiming against men or books, or peasants, not to people of the so- wearing their hats in the church; and a year called educated classes, whose knowledge of afterwards (1662) writes: "To the French the antiquities of their country is too often Church in the Savoy, and there they have the sadly defective. Hence it is perhaps not sur. Common Prayer Book, read in French, and prising that the Irish Christian names should which I never saw before, the minister do so generally have been lost, or at least hidden preach with his hat off, I suppose in further away by the queer process of "translation" of conformity with our church." William III. which I have given some examples. It may rather scandalized his church-going subjects however be contended that, except from a sen- by following the Dutch custom, and keeping timental point of view, the fact is not of much his head covered in church, and when it did importance. Such is indeed the truth. Wheth-please him to doff his ponderous hat during er Domhnall O'Connell chooses or does not choose to spell his Christian name Daniel, is after all a matter of no very great consequence. Let me now say a word about another Norman race, the Byrons, or, as the name is sometimes spelt, Biron. There are doubtless many genuine Byrons in Ireland, as in other parts of the world. But it so happens that in times past there was a Milesian family which lorded it the service, he invariably donned it as the preacher mounted the pulpit stairs. When Bossuet, at the age of fourteen, treated the gay sinners of the Hôtel de Rambouillet to a midnight sermon, Voltaire sat it out with his hat on, but uncovering when the boy preacher had finished, bowed low before him, saying, "Sir, I never heard a man preach at once so early and so late." Hatter's Gazette. For EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. Single Numbers of THE LIVING AGE, 18 cents. |