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But if we must believe that an arrangement with Russia has been studied, and if, nevertheless, nothing of the kind exists, must the inference be that Lord Salisbury's unaccommodating temper spoiled an acceptable bargain? Öther explanations are conceivable some far more probable. a matter like this, the wish of one party for a well-settled working agreement is the least advance to the desired object that can be made. Encountering a no-wish on the other side, it withers and there is an end of it and till we are better informed I shall continue to believe that on the other side there is no corresponding desire. With such a history as it looks back upon, why should the Russian Government voluntarily set bounds to its ambitions-meaning to keep faith? As to a corner of the world here and there, and for temporary purposes (as in China, for example), it is possible. But, starting from an understanding that "there is room enough in the East" for both countries, the agreement desired is one that shall mark out the territory which each of them may or may not pretend to now or hereafter. And

unless upon compulsion, or unless the agreement gave to the Czar large carvings from the British Empire (what is not ours in the East other Powers have something to say about), why, I ask, should the Russian Government sign a treaty of limitation, of abnegation? And what would be the value of such a document after signature? Would it be worth as much as the Czar's oath to the Finlanders? No impartial man will say so. The Czar's oath was not made to foreigners, nor was it an instrument of diplomacy.

The details of such an agreement should, at least, be satisfactory in appearance to both parties; but of all the many politicians who find no difficulty there, not one has ever presented Lord Salisbury with a draft of mutually acceptable conditions, and I venture to say never will. The difficulties are enormous. Reviewing them all together, the conclusion must be, I think, that, as in duty bound and by natural bent inclined, Lord Salisbury has felt his way to the longed-for agreement with Russia. But whether because he found no corresponding wish there; or because of the impossibility of drawing up a scheme satisfactory to the Czar's Government and presentable to the people of England; or because such agreements are so unstable that nothing of the kind would be released from watchfulness or justify any considerable reduction of armaments; or because of all these difficulties in combination-the idea did not prosper. Perhaps

never for a moment looked prosperous. Had to be abandoned on sheer obligation.

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Now, if that is the true answer to the question, "Why no agreement with Russia?" much the more reason is there for regretting the querulous persistency of the inquiry. The fact being that no such agreement can be got, that it is denied, that it is obtainable only on humiliating and hazardous conditions, that, to common knowledge, it would not be trustworthy for as many years as there are days in the week-the clamour for it seems worse than undignified. Undignified it certainly is. After a well-remembered speech of Mr Chamberlain's, he was loudly reproved for presenting England to the world as beggar for alliances. It could be said with much greater truth that large numbers of her more thoughtful citizens are praying their Government to buy off the Russian advance, so that they may live at peace within whatever lines may be determined by the bargain. Of course, I am not speaking now of the limited arrangement in Chinese affairs which Lord Salisbury (they say) is endeavouring to make with Russia, but of the general live-and-letlive agreement, extended over nearly the whole of the East, which has so long been the aim of a certain British sagesse. At bottom the cry for such an agreement is an offer to purchase rest and peace. And rest and peace may be wisely bought sometimes, no doubt it may be wisely bought when retention

So far, no speech on the troubles in the Church has made so deep an impression as the pregnant little sermon addressed to the House of Lords by the Prime Minister. There is a mastery of words which, while it conveys one plain meaning in a full, unbroken, unconfused stream of light, carried other and auxiliary meanings by rays imperceptible. It is a mastery of which we are always sensible in the greater poets, often in such prose as Burke's; and though Lord Salisbury's powerful mind is not poetical, and though it has no cousinship with the like of Burke's, the same fine faculty comes out in his speeches very strongly sometimes. It did so on this occasion, when judgment and feeling were both moved to speak.

The confessional, which has succeeded the "mass" as the main point of dispute between English Catholics and Protestants, was Lord Salisbury's theme. Lord Kinnaird had moved for returns showing the number of churches in which the confessional had become an established thing. The Bishop of Winchester had said that "no greater calamity could befall the English Church" (nation

would have been the better word) "than that the practice of private confession should become general." The Archbishop of York had said that "if it would be any comfort to the noble lord, he could assure him that no one had a greater dread than he himself of anything like private confession going beyond the carefully-defined limits laid down in the Book of Common Prayer." The Bishop of Winchester had also said that he had "always considered it the duty of the bishops to do everything in their power to repress the practice; yet the question still is how it should be done. It was to this point that Lord Salisbury addressed himself. He entirely agreed in dreading the growth of habitual confession in the Church of England. "If there were any means of repressing or dis couraging the practice, such means would deserve all our consideration." "But," said he, "remember that you are dealing with a spiritual question. I very much doubt whether Parliament will find that its powers are adequate to accomplish the end which I believe the enormous mass of the people desire. I fear that you are undertaking an effort to coerce consciences, which greater powers even than the British Parliament have failed to effect, and that you are more likely to increase the disease than to stop it." After declaring that he would rather have the open confessional box in the church than the secret interview in the vestry, and after warning us

that between these two we shall have to choose, the Prime Minister ended as follows:

"I greatly fear that if men wish to confess to men, or perhaps I should put it more accurately by saying if women wish to confess to men, all the power that this Parliament possesses will not avail seriously to arrest the process. The power of arresting it lies with the organisation over which right rev. prelates preside. It is for them to teach their flocks and they cannot do it too earnestly or too often the evils which may attend habitual and systematic secret confession. But let us be careful lest we hinder their work and prevent them from doing that which it is their proper charge to carry out, by bringing in the arm of the flesh, which never yet beat down a religious error and has often made the evil worse than before."

Now the beauty of this little series of sayings- they comprise nearly the whole of the speech-is this. While strongly impressing his audience in and out of the House of Lords with his main purpose - dissuasion from attempting to cure the disorders of the Church by Act of Parliament-he puts these same disorders in the shrewdest light, pictures the excess to which they are tending, shows how untenable the Catholic position is while repeating the Catholic account of it, suggests by alarming innuendo the necessity of combating what Parliament can hardly touch, points to a strangely unattempted way of making the fight,-and accomplishes all this without giving the least ground of offence to anybody. No Roman-Anglican can complain of it, and it does its work in many a breast unconscious of the Minister's intention.

Look again to what the speech asserts, implies, suggests. The practice of habitual confession in the English Church is described as a disease. An indication of its character is given (rightly or wrongly, but certainly not by accident) identifying it with an old social and domestic trouble, particularly grievous to fathers of families, and not long ago supposed to be reformed out of existence. That the evil should spread is much to be dreaded, but, we are told, not to be doubted; for its disseminators are such that if they cannot have open confessional boxes in the church, they will have secret interviews in the vestry. As matters stand, indeed, "it is between these two that you will have to choose"; and the confessional box is recommended for preference. Confessional boxes are illegal, but it would be judicious to bow to the illegality rather than risk the only other alternative -secret resort to the vestry. Resistance is vain. Government, parliament, law-there is no help in them: the grievance must be endured.

Now these are really counsels of desperation; and such they are found to be when, their tissue wrappages stripping from them in the process, they sink and dissolve into the mind. Taking new shape there, a story of what must be endured resolves into a tale of what should on no account be borne. consciences cannot be coerced is no more true, we perceive, than that consciences ought not to be violated or tamely submit to

That

outrage. Then we reflect-again at Lord Salisbury's suggestion

that as to coercing the conscience of the Romanising Anglican priest, no such thing has ever been proposed; while outrage of the Protestant conscience is practised every day. Habitual confession is one of various things which false and abhorrent teaching in the Church of England. What is the conscience of the man who, entering the Church as its servant, sworn against subverting its doctrine and bound not to do so by common honesty, persists in inculcating habitual confession? And in what but a ridiculous sense can it be averred that this same conscience is coerced when its owner is bidden to leave the Church if he must needs play traitor by remaining? And spiritual question here, spiritual question there— if, this being a spiritual question, certain sacerdotalists may lawlessly reimport evils which the Reformation expelled, why, this being a spiritual question, may not Protestants find a way of preventing them with a similar independence of law and the State? Even that question arises quite naturally from the Prime Minister's speech, being implanted therein by the speaker.

We may believe, however, that there would have been less of stirring suggestion in the speech but for the wise word of counsel with which it was to end. This wise word was addressed to the bishops; and they have only to act upon it as their duty and the occasion demands-learning at last

to underrate neither and a great incalculable mischief will be reduced to nought. After saying that all the power that this Parliament possesses will not avail seriously to arrest it, Lord Salisbury added, "The power of averting it lies with the organisation over which the right reverend prelates preside. It is for these to teach their flocks and they cannot do it too earnestly or too often the evils that may attend habitual and systematic secret confession."

There is a little ambiguity of language here, no doubt; and but for the nature of the case it might be possible to contend that this exhortation is addressed to the ordinary Protestant Church clergyman, and not at all to the bishops themselves. But besides that the words bear against that contention, it is otherwise incredible. How likely is it that the Catholic Anglican priest, weaving the glamour of the confessional about his flock, will desist at the voice of the mere Protestant minister preaching in the next parish? Lord Salisbury is far too wise a man to found his hopes on such a probability as that. No. His admonition was addressed to the bishops, and with reason good indeed.

Silent while for years an evil change has been working in the Church, the bishops have now been compelled to open their eyes upon it, and to acknowledge that it is evil. Not, of course, all that is complained of, but some things, such as this that Lord Salisbury con

demned. The doers of the evil are priests over whom the bishops have authority. But the people whom these priests mislead are also the charge of the bishops. The priests hold that they have as good a right to judge of what is sound and expedient in matters of doctrine and ceremonial as the bishops themselves. Speaking generally, the people are of a different opinion, but interpret the bishop's silence as betokening agreement or at least consent. His silence, therefore, convenient as it may be between himself and his Romanising clergy, is infidelity to the people. Surely that is a reproach which the bishops (who are all in it) must desire to clear away, now that its consequences appear. Discovery of the fault, and the good sense of the Prime Minister, invite them to repair damages; and, fortunately, this they can do over the heads of their Romanising priests, and without putting themselves to the pain of naming any one of them. Why should not the bishops begin by taking this course the shortest, the easiest, and perhaps the most effective at their command, and blest, too, with the happy advantage that it neither prosecutes nor persecutes, and cannot make martyrs? Why should they not address themselves to the laity direct, not merely announcing the true doctrine of the Church in such matters as transubstantiation and confession, but expounding them, defending them, and more particularly making known why