question of Determinism and Free-will, and even there he followed the cue of his great master and sided with Plato, who, while an idealist in all his yearnings, was a determinist in his theory. There is no passage in Mr. Tollemache's little sketch more characteristic than his account of Jowett's attitude on the question of Determinism and Free-will. Mr. Tollemache tells us that Jowett sometimes, as in his essay on Casuistry, seemed to recommend acquiescence in conventional morality, but sometimes "faced about and became a moralist of the first water (p. 118). And then he goes on to give us this characteristic story:

T

Another question bearing on that of the heinousness of sin is the question of Philosophical Necessity. One of the "stodgy questions" which, as an undergraduate, I put to Jowett was whether he believed in Necessity or in Freewill. J.—“I believe in Necessity in the sense of believing that our actions are determined by motives." "That admission seems to me to cover the entire ground. But would it do to act on the belief?" J.-(laughing)— "If we begin to act on the belief, we shall have to turn you out of the College. (More seriously) No, whatever one may think about the abstract question, one does not mean that it is the same thing to be walking along the street of one's Free-will and to be dragged along it against one's will. Necessity, when rightly understood, remains a sort of theory in the background, and one acts in much the same way whether one believes in it or not." Yet, if it be true, as Jowett once said in his introduction to Plato's Phado, that " we are more certain of our ideas of truth and right than we are of the existence of God," it must be evident that the conviction that we are all determined by our motives, and never determine them for ourselves, would over

ride our religious feelings and the authority of our consciences, instead of submitting itself to the authority of conscience. Jowett was always attempting to reconcile the language of the higher of Tennyson's "Two Voices" to the lower, but always failed in the attempt. Mr. Tollemache recognises this somewhat too clearly for a "disciple," unless he really thinks that it is right to acquire a certain "obliquity of vision," for he says in one place that Jowett "tried to be a philosopher, moralist, and preceptor all at once. As a philosopher, he looked at the world from the outside, and, so looking, he dimly perceived-or (what is much the same thing) he was conscious of trying not to perceive-that all is vanity. As a moralist he looked at the world from the inside, and almost convinced himself that all is an intense reality. I hope it is not an overstrained metaphor to add that, if he looked at the world with one eye, as it were, from the outside, and with the other eye from the inside, the result could hardly fail to be an occasional obliquity of mental vision." And in another place he says that Jowett let his two jarring personalities "go careering about in opposite directions," and concludes that "to any logical disciple of Jowett's, as well as to any disciple of Pattison's, the sense of sin has a ghostly impressiveness, and indeed has much in common with the representation of a ghost on the stage,he distinctly sees it, but also he sees through it" (p. 125).

Yet Jowett's heart sometimes completely mastered his head. In the singularly touching and much more than pathetic, almost overwhelming, message which he sent to the College from his sickbed in October 1891, the higher of Tennyson's "Two Voices" is heard in lonely supremacy, and there is no

attempt at all to reconcile it with the lower voice. He begins with a message, but the message soon passes into a prayer, which is all the more overpowering for the perfectly simple and unpretentious accent with which it opens :

Most of us have been wanting in the clear desire and wish to serve God and our fellow-men. At the critical times of life we have not done justice to ourselves. We have not tried enough to see ourselves as we are, or to know the world as it truly is. We have drifted with society, instead of forming independent principles of our own. We have thought too much of ourselves, and of what is being said about us. We have cared more for the opinion of others than for the truth. We have not loved others in all classes of society as Thou, O Lord, hast loved us. We have not thanked Thee sufficiently for the treasures of knowledge, and for the opportunities of doing good which Thou hast given us in this latter day. We have worried ourselves too much about the religious gossip of the age, and have not considered enough the fixed forms of truth. We have been indolent, and have made many excuses for falling short in Thy work. And now, O Lord, in these difficult times, when there is a seeming opposition of knowledge and faith, and an accumulation of facts beyond the power of the human mind to conceive; and good men of all religions, more and more, meet in Thee; and the strife between classes in society, and between good and evil in our own souls, is not less than of old; and the love of pleasure and the desire of the flesh are always coming in between us and Thee; and we cannot rise above these things to see the light of Heaven, but are tossed upon a sea of troubles ;we pray Thee be our guide, and strength, and light, that, looking up to Thee always, we may behold the rock on which we stand, and be confident in the word which Thou hast spoken.

I hardly know any other passage in the literature of our religious life which is more subduing in the simplicity of its adoration than that. It seems to embody the whole drift of the Apostle John's language "The world passeth away and the lust thereof, but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever." Surely that is not only a victory of faith, but a retractation, like one of St Augustine's retractations, of much that Jowett had said when he earnestly endeavoured not to pitch "the standard of faith too high for the present age." Here judgment is passed on "the highest criticism of the age, " and the decision of what he had sometimes treated as "the Ultimate Court of Appeal" is solemnly reversed.

A GREAT POET OF DENIAL AND REVOLT

NOT many years ago Sir Joseph Arnould, one of our Bombay judges, decided a suit in favour of the heir of the Chief of "the Assassins," the man known and feared among the Crusaders as “the Old Man of the Mountain." I have now before me a translation of one of the great poems of the world, written apparently by the intimate college friend, as we might say, of "the old Man of the Mountain" in question, Omar Khayyám, a great Persian astronomer, who rectified the Calendar, and was educated by the same Mohammedan sage as that Hassan of sinister celebrity to whom I have referred. The story, preserved by a grand vizier of the Sultan of Khorassan, is that he himself, Hassan, and this Omar Khayyám, subsequently the poet-astronomer of whom I am writing, made a boyish league together that whichever of them prospered in life should share his wealth equally with his two friends. Nizam-ul-Mulk was the fortunate one in question, rising, as I have said, to be grand vizier of the Sultan, and his friends. claimed his performance of the promise: Hassan asking wealth and office, and betraying his friend when it was granted, even to the point, it is said, of afterwards ordering, as Chief of the Assassins,