the sobered estimate of recent linguistic research. The resemblance is certainly very striking, though, on the other hand, it cannot be denied that archæologicai science is still in its infancy, and that Dr. Penka too often assumes that a word common to the European languages belonged to the parent-speech, an assumption which will not, of course, be admitted by his opponents.

What more nearly concerns us here, however, is the name we should give to the race or people who spoke the parentlanguage. We cannot call them IndoEuropeans; that would lead to endless ambiguities, while the term itself has already been appropriated in a linguistic sense. Dr. Penka has called them Aryans, and I can see no better title with which to endow them. The name is

short; it has already been used in an ethnological as well as in a linguistic sense, and since our German friends have rejected it in its linguistic application, it is open to every one to confine it to a purely ethnological meaning. I know that the author has protested against such an application of the term; but it is not the first time that a father has been robbed of his offspring, and he cannot object to the robbery when it is committed in the cause of science. For some time past the name of Aryan has been without a definition, while the first speakers of the Indo-European parent-speech have been vainly demanding a name; and the priests of anthropology cannot do better than lead them to the font of science, and there baptize them with the name of Aryan.- Contemporary Review.

WAR estimates increase and even in seagirt England conscription, or something like it, is proposed. With all our enlightenment, philanthropy and democracy, after William Penn, Cowper, and Wilberforce, after Voltaire and Rousseau, after Jeremy Bentham, the Manchester School and John Bright, and alas! after nearly nineteen centuries of Christianity, we have war, still war, apparently on a larger scale than ever, taking away millions from the plough, devouring the harvests of industry, threatening again to fill the world with blood and havoc. The only question is through which of several craters, the Franco-German, the Panslavic, the AngloRussian, or the Austrian, the eruption will break out and the lava-torrent flow.

To the despairing secretaries of peacesocieties, by an address from one of whom the present paper has been suggested, it seems as if, in the substitution of reason for the sword, no advance had been made. This is not so. In the first place war instead of being normal has among civilized nations become occasional. The Assyrian or the Persian conqueror made war as a matter of course, and spent his summer in campaigning with his mighty men of valor as regularly as the servile portion of his population spent it in gathering in the

harvest. So did Timour and Genghis Khan. So did the heirs of Mahomet while their vigor lasted. So did the feudal lords, in whose lives the excitement of war was varied only by the excitement of the chase. So, it may almost be said, did the little city republics of Italy, though these learned in time to do their fighting with mercenaries. But now war is an extraordinary occurrence; there must be a casus belli, and diplomacy must have been tried and failed. We have had long spells of peace. Between the Napoleonic War and the Crimean War there was so long a spell of peace that the world began to think that the hounds of war would never slip the leash again.

In the second place the sentiment for peace grows. Charles the Fifth told a soldier impatient for war that he liked peace as little as the soldier himself, though policy forced him to keep the sword in the sheath at that time. Even in Chatham's day a minister could avow that he was a lover of honorable war." Palmerston, though he felt like Chatham, would hardly have dared to use the same language. Burke was as philanthropic as any statesman of his day, yet he seemed to regard as an unmixed blessing national success in war.

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In the third place fighting, whereas it used to be every man's duty and half of every man's character, at least among freemen, is now a special trade. The Servian constitution was a polity combined with a musterroll. The political upper class in Greece and Rome was the cavalry. The ridiculous ceremony of touching a turtle-fed mayor or an old professor of science with a sword and bidding him rise up a knight reminds us that all honor was once military, and that saving in the Church there was no other high career. Conscription may be said to be a relapse into the old state of things. A relapse it is; but it is felt to be exceptional and the offspring of the present tension, while England still holds out against it, and America, even in the desperate crisis of the Civil War, resorted to it only in the qualified form of a draft with liberty of buying a substitute.

In Europe the present spasm of militarism may be said to be in some measure not occasional only, but accidental. With all our historical philosophy and our general laws, there are still such things as accidents in history. There are at least events which turn the scale, and which we cannot distinguish from accidents. Had Gustavus Adolphus lived it is a moral certainty that he would have continued to conquer, and that the whole of Germany would have been wrested from Austria and Rome; but a wreath of mist floats over the battlefield of Lutzen: Gustavus is separated from his men and falls, and half Germany remains Austrian and Roman. Disease carries off Cromwell before he had begun to decay, and when a few years more of him would have founded a Commonwealth, or more probably a Protestant and Constitutional dynasty, and torn all that followed from the book of fate. This system of vast standing armies, and the prevalence of the military spirit, are largely the offspring of the great wars caused by the military ambition of Napoleon, as the political convulsions of the last half century have been in no small measure the results of the struggle of the nations against him for their independence, which for the time produced a violent reaction in favor of the native dynasties.

But Napoleon as a master of French legions was an accident. France swallowed Corsica in the year of his birth, and, like Eve when she swallowed the apple, "knew not eating death." Corsica NEW SERIES.-VOL. L., No. 3.

was an island peopled of old by exiles and outlaws, an island of savagery, brigandage, and vendettas, out of the pale of moral civilization. Napoleon was an incomparable general, and a great administrator of the imperial and bureaucratic kind; but in character he was a Corsican, and as completely outside moral civilization as any brigand of his isle. He had several thousand Turkish prisoners led out and butchered in cold blood simply to get rid of them; he poisoned his own sick for the same purpose. Never did the most hideous carnage, or the worst horrors of war, draw from him a word of pity or compunction, while Marlborough, hardhearted as he was, after witnessing the slaughter of Malplaquet, prayed that he night never be in another battle. Lord Russell saw Napoleon at Elba, and he used to say that there was something very evil in Napoleon's eye, and that it flashed when his visitor spoke to him of the excitement of war. In other things this His

man

was equally a moral savage. passions were under no restraint of decency. He took a lady, as M. Taine tells us, from the dinner-table to his bedroom. When Volney said something which displeased him, he gave him a kick which laid him up for days. For truth and honor he had no more regard than a Carib. A Corsican lust of war and rapine was and remained at the bottom of his character. Master of France and her armies this archbandit, by his personal barbarism, prolonged a series of wars which otherwise would have closed with the subsidence of the Revolution and the repulse of the allies. It is true that a policy of glory was up to a certain point adapted to the military vanity of France. But Madame de Rémusat tells us, in her Memoirs, that the heart of France went out no longer with the armies after Friedland; and in 1814 Napoleon, on his way to Elba, was afraid to pass through the South of France because the people would have torn him. to pieces.

Some causes of war, so far as the civil-ized world is concerned, are numbered. with the past. We shall have no more wars for sheer plunder or rapine, like those of primeval tribes. We shall have no more migratory invasions, like those of the Goths and Vandals, the Tartars and the Avars. Setting aside Napoleon, we can hardly be said to have had of late wars,

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of mere territorial aggrandizement. The British empire in India has grown by successive collisions with barbarous neighbors and in wars generally defensive, the most notable exception being the conquest of Scinde, which was greatly condemned on that account; and the Russian empire in Asia may be said to have grown mainly in the same manner, though Russia, as the most barbarous power, is still the most given to plunder. Next to Russia in barbarism comes France, in spite of her veneer, and the attempt to seize the Rhine Provinces was an act of uncivilized rapine qualified only by the fancy that the Rhine was her natural frontier. Religious wars we have not religion enough left to renew; though the fact perhaps is that they were in reality less wars of religion than wars of Churchmen in defence of bloated Church Establishments which were attacked by those who attacked the faith. "That new and pestilent sect which assails all sacraments and all the possessions of the Church," is the description given of Lollardism in the old Statutes of Lincoln College by the two bishops who founded the college for its repression. Tantum religio potuit suadere malorum has been chanted a little too often. All that murderous zeal would scarcely have been displayed if there had been no Archbishopric of Toledo.

On the other hand, as in the medical region while old plagues die out new plagues appear, we have now a rising crop of wars of national sentiment, produced by the passion for restoring ancient and half-obliterated lines of nationality or race, awakened largely by historical research, which has thus strangely become the procuress of ambition and war. The seeds of historic fancy sown by such writers as Thierry are springing up armed men, while the United Kingdom is distracted by antiquarian demagogism which seeks to restore the map of the twelfth century. The most formidable of these movements is Panslavism, in which the race passion is allied with the military barbarism of Russia and with the tendency of the agonized Czar to divert Nibilism into the channel of aggrandizement. Among the most terrible wars of the Middle Ages were social and agrarian wars, such as the rising of Wat Tyler and the Jacquerie. With some of these religion was wildly mingled. Religion mingles with social and agrarian

war no longer, but of wars purely social and agrarian we can by no means feel sure that we have seen the end. All the world is heaving more or less with the subterranean fires which broke through the crust at Paris and Cartagena. Where we have not yet social or agrarian war we have dynamiters, moonlighters, and anarchist uprisings like that at Chicago. To mere hunger, which was the source of peasant revolt in the Middle Ages, is now added socialistic aspiration working in the halfeducated breast, while the beliefs in the providential order of society and in a future compensation for those whose lot is hard here have lost their restraining force. Property will hardly allow itself to be plundered without fighting, and a conflict of classes may possibly ensue not less savage than the Jacquerie or the Peasant War. In that case the trained soldier is likely to find abundant employment in the service of armed repression if not on more glorious fields. Whether we have got rid of the commercial wars, of which the last century was full, must depend on the progress of Free Trade. To a war such as that which has been going on in Egypt it is not easy to assign a place in the catalogue. Our enemies say that it is a bondholders' war. We say that it is a war partly for the security of one of the world's great commercial highways, partly for the advancement of civilization and its protection against the barbarous Arab. In either case it is exceptional, and can hardly be said to denote a revival of the military spirit or to cloud the outlook of the secretary of the Peace-Society for the future.

Why has not Christianity put an end to war? Why has it not put an end to gov. ernment and police? If the words of Christ were fully kept there would be no longer need of any of these, and in proportion as the words of Christ are kept the need of all three decreases. But all three, like the institutions of an imperfect world and an imperfect society generally, are provisionally recognized by the Gospel. Soldiers are told not to give up their calling but only to give up extortion. Two religious soldiers are introduced, the centurion whose servant Christ heals and Cornelius. Military imagery is employed which would have been incongruous if all war had been sin. "Warring a good warfare" is a synonym for zeal in the min

istry. The Christians under the Empire, though they were growing Quakerish as well as ascetic, objected not so much to bearing arms as to the religion of the standards. The religious consecration of war, by prayers for a victory, singing Te Deums, blessing colors, hanging them in the churches and so forth, is certainly a curious mode of worshipping Jesus of Nazareth; but it goes with separate nationality, which is a partial denial or postponement of the brotherhood of man. State Churches have naturally carried these practices furthest; yet the free Churches of the United States prayed for victory and gave thanks for victory in the Civil War as lustily as any State Church. Of Quakerism let us always speak with respect it made Voltaire pay homage to Christianity; but as an attempt to forestall the advent of the Kingdom of Peace it has failed, though not without doing something to hasten it. On one occasion perhaps it even, by misleading a Czar as to the temper of Great Britain, helped to bring on a war. Still more hopelessly unpractical as an attempt to set the world right is Count Tolstoi's Christian Nihilism, which would sweep away at once army, government, law-courts, and police, all safeguards for nations and men against lawless violence, all restraints upon evil men. Count Tolstoi apparently would give up civilization to barbarous conquest; he would let any brigand or savage who chose kill him, lay waste his home and abuse his wife and daughters, rather than resist the evil; and much his brother the brigand or savage would be morally improved by this meekness! His picture of war is thoroughly Russian, and applies only to a conscription of serfs. The best My Religion" is the proof it gives that something besides military barbarism is at work, in however chimerical a form and on however small a scale, in the mind of Russia. In speculating on the immediate future such reveries may safely be laid aside. They are in truth recoils from Russian despotism and militarism rather than deliberate views of life.

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of "

Between the ecclesiasticism which is a false growth of Christianity and militarism there is a more sinister connection. Fraud prefers force to reason and a reign of force to a reign of reason. The fighter the priest can fascinate and use; the thinker is his irreclaimable enemy. Every one

knows to what an appalling height this ecclesiastical militarism is carried by De Maistre, who paints the Christian God as an angry deity requiring to be constantly propitiated by the steam of blood from fields of carnage, and the soldier as the appointed minister of this vast human sacrifice. The passage might have been penned by a Mexican hierophant in defence of the human sacrifices which he offered to Huitzilopochtli. People were somewhat startled by a sermon of the High Church Professor Mozley on War. There is nothing in it which approaches the hideous paradox of De Maistre, but it certainly speaks of war with an acquiescence bordering on complacency. It is not a reproduction of the Sermon on the Mount.

Democracy, it was hoped, would put an end to war it would make government industrial and would not allow the people to be made food for powder. War was the game of kings which the people would never play. When we were told that Athens and Rome were warlike it was easy to reply that Athens, and still more Rome, was a republican oligarchy of slave-owners, not a democracy. Political institutions may be altered, but old habits and sentiments are not worked out in a moment, and it may be too early to pronounce on the tendencies of democracy in this or in other respects. But so far certainly there has been no magic change. It might have been expected that the French peasant as soon as he had a vote would use it to rid himself of the blood tax; yet conscription goes on with universal suffrage. In the United States no political capital is better than military renown. Four Presidents, Jackson, Harrison, Taylor and Grant, have been elected on their military record alone: Scott, McClellan and Hancock were nominated on their military record, and Garfield and the present President were helped by it in their elections. In England, an old war-power, no one has been made Prime Minister or promoted to any high office except a ministry of war or marine, merely for military achievements. The Duke of Wellington, whom the Americans always cite as a parallel to Jackson, had played a great part in the affairs of Europe, and was the real political leader of his party. Popular literature, public monuments, statues in squares and streets, all things that appeal to the public taste and feeling attest the continu

ance of the military propensity, and if you see a crowd gathered at the window of a print shop the chances are that the attraction is a battle-piece. On every State occasion the chief part of the pageant is the military parade. An eminent moralist in New York the other day, in an address on the celebration of the Centenary, took exception to this habit, saying that the army was only a sad necessity of our imperfect civilization, and that if the soldier marches in the procession, so ought the hangman. The fact, however, is that the soldier marches and the hangman does not. From the propensity to warlike bluster democracy is certainly not exempt the vulgarity of its liability to which it is half conscious, inclines it that way. It wants to prove that it is not a shop-keeper. Nor has it hitherto shown itself in sentiment particularly meek. "The country right or wrong" is a saying not of monarchical or aristocratic origin. It might be difficult to say which is most subject to gusts of passion, a Czar or an unbridled democracy, filled with insolence by the flattery of its demagogic press, which at the moment of critical contest between reason and pride or anger is sure to throw itself in a body on what is deemed the patriotic side.

On the other hand, the American army is very small; it is in fact hardly large enough even to maintain order in case of serious social disturbances; and the navy, an American said the other day, might be run down by a coal barge. The army there is at present no apparent inclination to increase, though there is some disposition to increase the navy. Proposals to increase the army indeed are regarded with democratic jealousy, while Anglophobia fondles the idea of building swift cruisers for the destruction of British trade, though Protection is eager both to inflame hatred of its great commercial rival and to spend money in armaments in order that the need of revenue from customs duties may not be diminished. Though reason and morality may fail, industry and commerce plead effectively for peace. The War of 1812 was the work of a violent western element which has now become sober and civilized. The Mexican War as well as the War of Secession was the work of slavery, which is extinct. Canada, Mexico and Cuba repose beside their mighty neighbor without seri

ous fear of territorial aggression. If the American people were ordered by their Government to invade Canada, Canada having given no provocation, it is very doubtful whether they would march. Moreover to the American democracy, which cannot like Russia sweep droves of peasants into the army but has to pay the full value for life, war is a costly game. The expenditure in military pensions is now at least eighty millions of dollars a year, a sum which exceeds the annual cost of the British army. We were all filled with admiration by the sudden disappearance of the American army into civil and industrial life at the end of the Civil War, when we had thought that it would remain master of the country and make its general an emperor. It disappeared as an army, but it has reappeared as a tremendous" Vote." Anglophobia would think twice before it doubled the pension-list. Toward the end of the Civil War two and even three thousand dollars were paid for a substitute, while in China, if travellers' tales are true, for a trifling sum you can buy a man to be beheaded in your place.

War altogether is tremendously expensive to democracy. It has to care for the private as if he were a general, and the prying correspondent is there to see that the thing is done. In the Austrian armies during the last century there were very few surgeons. The medical and hospital arrangements of the Federals in the Civil War were of the costliest and most perfect kind. Smollett, in his account of the Expedition to Cartagena, has told us what sort of provision sufficed for the common soldier and seamen under the aristocratic government of England in 1741.

Manchester used to hope that Free Trade would put an end to war. Unfortunately Free Trade itself has made far less progress than Manchester expected. The fact, however unpleasant, is that, by universal suffrage government has for the time been made over to lower intelligences than those of Turgot, Pitt, Peel and Cavour. Protection is the commercial creed of blind cupdity, and among uninstructed and hungry multitudes blind cupidity prevails. In thinking that Free Trade, even if it could become universal, must bring in its train universal peace Manchester no doubt reasoned too much from its own character and tendencies to those of the world at large it forgot that nations,