now, that Slavery is aggressive. It is unnecessary to say that it is more so than any other marked and distinctive form of social life would be. It is only necessary to understand that, being of an absolutely peculiar character, and at war with the general moral conclusions of the age, Slavery, as it now 5 exists in the American States, is in that position of desperate and dogged defiance, in which it will dare all things in selfdefence. For reasons which we need not recapitulate, a component part of that defense must be its extension. It can

no more exist within confined limits than a rat can live under 10 an exhausted receiver. It is clear, therefore, that in the event of a military triumph of the system, the spirit of territorial aggrandizement, which has heretofore sought for new man-markets upon the frontier of the Southwest, would begin to exert itself in a Northern direction. Of the inability of 15 the Slave Power to conquer such States as Illinois, Ohio, or Indiana, we might be tolerably certain, so long as a Northern Union should remain ; but the grave and alarming question is, how long, after the establishment of a Southern Confederacy, the Northern Union would continue to exist. Itself a frag- 20 ment, into how many smaller fragments might it not, even within a quarter of a century, be precipitated? Disunion is of bad example, and might prove contagious; while the Slave States, united in a bad brotherhood, and by the ties of a common iniquity, might not find it difficult to cope with and to subjugate individual States, themselves exposed to the assaults of each other, and weakened by intestine disorder.

25

That it is no part of Slaveholding chivalry to spare a State, either because it is weak or inoffensive, let the fate of 30 Mexico attest! But inoffensive the Northern States, even with the best intentions, could not possibly be. The recognition of the Confederacy, however absolute and complete, would not for a day silence the Anti-Slavery discussions of the North. It is certain that they will never cease until 35 Slavery is abolished. No laws, however rigid, no considera

tions of international comity, would be sufficient to restrain the voices of men who as much believe that Slavery is horrible in God's sight as they believe that there is a God at all. This of itself would be sufficient to keep up a per5 petual irritation at the South, and to afford a continual pretext for an aggressive war. But the question of Fugitive Slaves, and of their rendition, would be a crowning difficulty, and one which, it seems to us, would be absolutely incapable of a peaceful solution. If we know anything of the temper 10 of the Northern people, we can hardly believe that they will be ready to do that of their free will which they have been so unwilling to do upon compulsion. Treaties might be made, but treaties would be perpetually broken. Laws, founded upon such compacts, might be passed, but who 15 would obey and who would enforce them? Meanwhile, the Government of the North would be constantly involved in difficulties with its own recalcitrant citizens; and, the question of Slavery still coloring our politics, the people would be pretty sure to keep out of office "Northern men with 20 Southern principles." War must inevitably follow. Peace, by infinite nursing and coddling, would be only the exception, and War-beggaring, blasting, and weary War - would be the rule. Into the probable history of this people, so agitated and assaulted, it would not be pleasant too closely to 25 inquire. If the Slave States, stimulated only by imaginary injuries, have shown themselves ready to shoot from a condition of ill-temper into that of sanguinary hostilities, what will be the popular feeling of the North when it is found that all our treasure has been expended only with the prodigality 30 of the fool?

If the question, then, of the Union was an open one before, it is so no longer. We cannot afford to concede -we cannot afford to be conquered. There is a deadly duel between Freedom and Slavery, and one or the other must fall. 35 The issue is but a matter of time. Freedom in the end must conquer. But over what dreary years of suffering and

struggle, of paralyzed industry and social commotion, of private agony and of public bankruptcy, must that struggle, if we now temporize, extend! If there be in this great me

tropolis any man who, in his devotion to the pursuit of gold, thinks that we should give up all, and retire from this con- 5 test, we bid him look well to his money-bags, when the arrogant and hot-headed Confederacy shall have triumphed and commenced its political career. If there be here any man who wearies of the noise and confusion of this conflict, we bid him beware of lending his influence to the adoption of 10 any measure which may merely postpone the final adjustment of this quarrel, and leave us, meanwhile, certainly for more than one generation, the sport of political chances. If there be any philanthropist who shrinks, as well he may, from the butchery of battle, we warn him that the longest 15 war, however bloody, is better for humanity than the smoothest of hollow truces. Do not let us be deceived! There is no safety for this republic but in its integrity; there is no peace for it but in its indivisibility; there is no economy in ending one war only that we may begin another; there is 20 no happiness for us, there is none for our children, save in the complete victory of our Government. Five years of war would be better yes, fifty years of war would be better than a century of imaginary peace and continual collisions. The time to acknowledge the Confederacy, if at all, was 25 when Anderson pulled down the flag of Fort Sumter. That time has gone by forever!

XII.

W. M. PAYNE.1

John Addington Symonds.

The Dial, Chicago.

THE death of Mr. Symonds, at Rome, has removed from the field of English letters one of its most graceful and accomplished representatives. He had only reached the age of fifty-two (Shakespeare's age), but his death was not wholly 5 unexpected. Many years ago he was forced to leave England by pulmonary disease that threatened his life, and to take up a practically permanent residence at Davos, in the Engadine. His life in this mountain home has been described by himself in a number of charming magazine 10 articles, and by his daughter in a recently published volume. He occasionally ventured upon short excursions from his seat of exile-mostly into Italy for the collection of the material required by his literary work—and it was upon one of these excursions that he gave up the long struggle with ill 15 health.

His enforced residence in what was, for the literary worker, an almost complete solitude, has left its mark upon the work of his later years. Absence from all libraries but his own has given to much of that work an inadequate char20 acter, and left it lacking in the accuracy demanded by modern scholarship. For these defects, considering their excuse, he has been subjected to unfairly harsh criticism. It is really remarkable, under the conditions, that his work should have as high a scientific character as that with which it must be 25 credited, and it surely offers a case in which the verdict of justice should be tempered by that of mercy. On the other

1 Reprinted, by permission of W. M. Payne from Little Leaders. A. C. McClurg & Co.

hand, the author's long freedom from the distractions of English life enabled him to become a prolific worker, and the literary activity of his later years has been very marked. He has produced new volumes in rapid succession, and most of them have been volumes of unquestionable importance. 5 Much of his later work has been shaped by the necessities of his isolated situation, and has taken forms that did not require the resources of great collections of material. His translations from the Italian, and his subtle analyses of the principles of æsthetic criticism, are illustrations of this gen- 10 eral statement, although we must admit that the most important of his later works, the life of Michelangelo, had to be, and was, based upon an exhaustive study of the contemporary documents. As these were to be found in Italy, a country within his reach, he was enabled, even in his years 15 of exile, to produce one work of capital scientific value.

Whatever form Mr. Symonds might give to his work, it was, like that of the great Frenchman whose loss we have so lately mourned, essentially critical in spirit, and its author will be remembered among the critics, rather than among 20 the poets, the travellers, or the narrative historians. But his critical method was radically unlike that of his French contemporary, being as subjective as that of Taine was objective. He constantly sought to place himself within the mind of the writer or historical character with whom he was 25 engaged, to see the world with his eyes, and to treat the environment as secondary in time if not in significance. Taine, as we well know, deduced the man and his work from the surrounding conditions; Symonds took the man and his work as the data of the problem, seeking to understand 30 rather than to account for them. We are not here concerned to compare the two methods of work. Both of them are capable of excellent results, and either of them, if carried far enough, involves the other. It is sufficient to say that a writer committed to the one does not, as a rule, realize 35 all the possibilities of the other, and falls short of that syn