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the other hand, shows us a not less surprising spectacle of a race exclusively speculative, living by the ideal, building its religion and its literature in the clouds, without any intermingling elements drawn from history or reality. The characteristic feature of the Chinese mind is a negation of the supernatural; what it cannot understand does not exist for it. India, on the contrary, absorbed in the contemplation of the Infinite, has exhausted her activity in the creation of an exuberant mythology, and of innumerable systems of metaphysics. Nor has the study of nature, of man, or of history, ever seemed to her worthy to check her thought for an instant. China is indisputably, of all countries, that which possesses the best-ordered and the most abundant archives. Since the twelfth century before the Christian era, she has stored up, dynasty by dynasty, and almost year by year, the official documents of her history, the decrees of her sovereigns, the rules of her administration. India, SO prodigiously fruitful in everything else, has not a line of history. She has reached modern times without believing that the real is ever worth writing down. This present life is for the Chinese the only aim of human activity. For the Indian it is but an episode in a series of exist ences, a passage between two eternities. On one side you have a bourgeois and reasonable race, narrow as common sense is narrow; on the other, a race devoted to the infinite-dreamy, ab sorbed, and lost in its own imaginations. Nor are the physical characteristics of both less strikingly contrasted. The bright, oblique eye, the flat nose, the short neck, the cunning look of the Chinese, indicate the man of common sense, well trained in the affairs of this world; the noble outline of the Indian, his slim figure, his broad, calm brow, his deep, tranquil eye, show us a race made for meditation, and destined even by its very errors to provide us with a measure of the speculative power of humanity."

A propos of this essay M. Renan tells an amusing story of that original, Buloz, the editor and creator of the Revue des Deux Mondes. The aim of M. Renan's paper, which was written for the Revue, was to represent Buddhism as something

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tangible and intelligible, to make it possible for the modern French reader to enter into the fascination which enabled a religion without a God and without a heaven, to convert half Asia, and to extend its sway over the majority of the human race. So strong is M. Renan's imaginative power, SO delicate and plastic the touch with which he describes either men or philosophies, that the result when it came to be laid before M. Buloz, produced a curious and unexpected effect upon him. M. Buloz was startled, and the protesting common sense in him awoke. Buddhism as a name, or as a distant, incomprehensible superstition, was familiar to him, but a Buddhist "in flesh and blood,' presented to the French world as a more or less reasonable being, possessed of a Nihilist explanation of the universe for which philosophically a great deal could be said, and dying in defence of this explanation as cheerfully as a Christian with the hope of heaven before him, was too much for M. Buloz. He refused,' says M. Renan, "to believe that it could be true.' To all my proofs he replied inexorably, "It is not possible that there should be such fools as that!" and the paper had to be returned to M. Renan's portfolio till the wheel of popular sympathy should have turned. In the interval Schopenhauer and his followers have diffused a Buddhist philosophy; the world has become familiar with Buddhist ideas; Buddhist legend and Buddhist morality have even become fashionable, and M. Renan could have had no doubt as to the general interest of the subject when he decided to publish the paper in his new volume of essays.

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The study of Joachim the Abbot of Flores in Calabria, and The Eternal Gospel is a careful and valuable contribution to the religious history of the middle ages. Indeed it is somewhat out of place in a volume of which scholarly accuracy and thoroughness are by no means the characteristic features. But although M. Renan's study is such as no student will neglect, it would not be his if it were not lighted up and brought within the range of the average leader, by a good deal of imaginative and brilliant generalization. M. Renan sees in the movement among the early

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- Franciscans which resulted, about the middle of the thirteenth century, in the production of the new Apocalypse or Gospel, which was partly the work of the Abbot of Flores, and partly of certain mystical Franciscans forty years after his death, an abortive attempt at religious creation. The thirteenth century, extraordinary in so many respects, was within very little of witnessing the upgrowth of a new religion, of which the germs were contained in the Fran ciscan order; had the issue depended on the more fanatical members of the new institution, the world instead of Christian, would have become Franciscan. His account of the authors of this short-lived faith, and of the way in which the poetical mysticism of the new sect shattered itself against French logic as represented by the University of Paris, and the interests of property and the established order as represented by the Roman Curia, is always readable and suggestive. "What excites the

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tions to herself and her friends, is well told. We see the little German village, a few miles from Cologne, and the medieval farm with its pious societyyoung Dominicans full of the first enthusiasm of the Friars' movement, the schoolmaster, the parish priest, the pale Christina in her long veil covering her from top to toe, and her friend, her dilectissime, Friar Peter. Outside the inner circle of mystics and enthusiasts M. Renan suggests with great skill a circle of scoffing neighbors, practical sober folk, speaking the one language which is the same from century to century-the language of common The whole is admirably done, except for a few touches here and there, a few innuendos of which the style and manner are distasteful. M. Renan sees, of course, that Christina's relation to Peter was that of love, and not at all that of spiritual affinity as she and he supposed. But it would have been better to have said it plainly and simply wonder of those who make a close at the outset; there is something disstudy of the history of the middle ages, agreeable in the way in which M. he says in conclusion, "is that Frot- Renan, as an artist in human feeling, éstantism did not appear three hundred attempts to take advantage of two opyears earlier. All the causes of a re- posing orders of ideas at once the physligious revolution existed in the thir- ical scientific order, and the Catholic teenth century; and all were stifled. It order now explaining his characters happened to the thirteenth century as it by the one, and now weaving a delicate would have happened to the sixteenth rhapsody round them out of the other. if Luther had been burned, if Charles V. had exterminated the Reformed churches, if the Inquisition had succeeded in the whole of Europe as it succeeded in Spain and Italy. Aspirations toward a spiritual Church and a purer worship were making themselves felt on all sides.' The Eternal Gospel of Joachim of Flores, which represented the more ardent and mystical spirits among the Franciscans, is the boldest attempt at religious revolution to be found in the middle ages, and it would have changed the face of the world if all the disciplined and reflecting forces of the thirteenth century had not thrown themselves abruptly across its path."

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"A Monkish Idyl of the Middle Ages' describes the friendship of Christina von Stommeln, a pious woman of the thirteenth century, for a young Dominican friar, Peter of Dacia. The story of Christina's stigmata and visions, of her nervous symptoms, which of course assumed the form of diabolical temptaNEW SERIES.-VOL. XL., No. 3

The remaining papers hardly deserve description in detail. Everything that M. Renan writes has some interest. But it is a little trying to a literary reputation to put forth under its shelter work so slight as the reprinted review headed"L'Art Religieux,' or so flippant as the fantastic sketch of the sixteenth century struggle between the Molinists and Predeterminists. This last was written immediately after M. Renan left St. Sulpice, and bears many marks of youth and irritation. It will. serve, like much else in the volume, to guage the progress of a great writer in his art. Unfortunately, M. Renan's very latest utterance, the concluding pages of the preface to the present volume, shows that certain qualities which forty years ago might have been excused in him as the products of youth and immaturity, are still present in him to vitiate his wonderful style and weaken his legitimate influence upon his time.-Macmillan's Magazine.

27

THE BATTLE OF SHREWSBURY.

IN the beginning of the year 1403, according to that worthy chronicler Richard Grafton, there appeared in the heavens a comete or blazing starre of a great and huge quantitie, which some expounded to signify great effusion of man's blood." The interpretation was not venturesome. In those old times few seers would have hurt their credit by such an exposition of any portent. It needed; indeed, no peculiar sagacity to foresee that 1403 was not likely to be a year of peace, with Scotland, Wales, and France all making common head against the English King. But there were troubles rising still nearer home; and before the blazing starre" appeared the minds of many men had turned to the prospect of the struggle which on July 21st ended under the walls of Shrewsbury in one of the bloodiest struggles that had been seen on English ground since the day of Senlac.

The preparations of the rebels must have been kept very quiet, or Henry must have been strangely misinformed. That something was afoot he knew, and had invited the Percies to a conference with him at Windsor, promising them safe conduct to and fro, whatever might be the nature of their demands, or the result of the interview. But his overtures had been insolently declined, on the ground that they could not trust his word for their safety were they once in his power. After this he does not seem to have troubled himself much more with them for the time, but turned all his energies against Glendower. At the beginning of the month he had actually set out for the west, news of which was at once sent off to Hotspur by Worcester, who himself, when Henry was fairly on his way, left London secretly to join his nephew. Henry, however, changed his mind, and turned his face north, where a rising of the Scotch was reported to be imminent. He had reached Burton on July 16th, when word was brought him that the Percies were up and marching south to join Glendower on the Welsh borders. At once he turned in his tracks, and, moving across the country, probably by the

old Watling Street Road, with wonderful rapidity flung himself, into Shrewsbury on the 19th, just before the insurgents' van came in sight of the town. Hotspur's route had been along the east border of Cheshire, where he had been reinforced by a strong body of the famous Cheshire archers and many gentlemen of the county. It was evening as he came in sight of Shrewsbury. The Royal standard floating from the walls told him that the King had been too quick for him; and, calling in his skirmishers, who had advanced up to the gates of the town, he retired his force to the Bullfield, a large common stretching eastward from the suburb of Upper Berwick. Here he was strongly posted, having his rear covered by steep and woody cliffs, and the river, as it then ran, on his front and right flank. He also commanded the Shelton Ford, by which Glendower would be able to join him without opposition.

The 20th seems to have been passed chiefly in an attempt on the King's part at a compromise. Early in the morning Hotspur had sent by the hands of two squires a copy of his manifesto to Henry, together with a gage of defiance. In return, either on the afternoon of the same day or early on the next morning, for the old chronicles have a noble disregard of accuracy in the matter of dates, Henry sent the Abbot of Shrewsbury and one of the clerks of the Privy Seal with a promise of pardon and an offer to close with any reasonable demands. Hotspur seems by all accounts to have been not unwilling to listen, and sent Worcester into the Royal camp with powers to treat. Henry was generous and liberal, but it did not suit with Worcester's plans that he should seem so. was reported for a truth," says an old chronicler, "that now, when the King had condescended unto all that was reasonable at his hands to be required, and seemed to humble himself more than was meet for his estate, the Earl of Worcester upon his return to his nephew made relation clean contrary to that the King had said, in such sort that he set his nephew's heart more in displeasure toward the King than ever it was before,

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driving him by that means to fight
whether he would or not. Worcester's
fear was that his nephew might be for-
given, but that for him and his brother,
the old Northumberland, as the respon-
sible traitors, there could be no pardon.
Another report has it that Worcester was
not sent to the King till the armies
were drawn up against each other; that
the King, speaking him fair, prayed
him to put himself in his grace;'
that Worcester made answer, "I trust
not in your grace. Then the King
said, "I pray God that thou mayest
have to answer for the blood here to be
shed this day, and not I." The same
idea runs through both versions, and it
is clear at any rate that some attempt at
reconciliation was made by Henry at the
last moment, and prevented by Worces-

ter.

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as Richard did on the day of Bosworth, he had taken the precaution of dressing two or three of his captains in like fashion to himself.

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Hotspur moved out of his camp so hurriedly that he left his favorite sword behind him in his tent, nor did he perceive his loss till he had got far on his way. On calling for it then, he was told it had been left behind at Berwick, the name of the village he had made his headquarters. "I perceive," was his reply, that my plough is drawing to its last furrow, for a wizard told me in Northumberland that I should perish at Berwick, which I vainly interpreted of that town in the north. Then he went forward to his fate through the villages as they now stand of Harlescott and Abright Hussey, till under Haughmond Hill he halted on the edge of an open sweep of ground, then and still known as Hateleys. Here he formed his ranks in a field of ripe peas. South-east of his

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position lay the Royal army on ground. which bears to this day the name of King's Croft.

When he saw that the battle could not be avoided, the King made his preparations. A small detachment, under the nominal command of the Prince of Wales, who was but fifteen years old that day, was ordered to deploy in the direction of the enemy, while the main body marched out through the north or Castle Gate toward some open ground about three miles distant from the city, known to this day as Battlefield. His force was, according to Hall, nearly double that of Hotspur's, and certainly was considerably larger. Northumberland had stayed behind at Warkworth, sick either in mind or body, and his absence had doubtless kept many away. Glendower had not yet come in sight. According to one account he was not far off, and had even reached the ford as the battle joined; but, preferring to see how matters went before he risked anything, climbed up into an oak-tree to watch the fight, while his men were halted on the safe side of the river. is difficult to be sure of this story, but till very lately the gnarled and scarred old trunk of what once must have been a mighty tree used to be pointed out to the curious as Glendower's oak.' Hotspur's force is generally estimated at 14,000 men, while Henry's must have been 20,000 at the least. It was divided into two columns, one commanded by himself; the other, nomi-tain. nally it is to be presumed, by his son. His nephew Stafford led the van, and,

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According to Holinshed Hotspur made an address to his men, and then," he says, suddenly blew the trumpets, the King's part crying St. George upon them, the adversaries cried Esperance Percy [still the motto of the family which represents to-day that famous house], and so the two armies furiously joined." It fared badly at first with the King's part." The brave men of Cheshire plied their bows famously that day, "laying on such load with arrows that many died. and were driven down that never rose again." Douglas and Hotspur, counted the two stoutest lances in Christendom, hurled themselves with a chosen following on the royal van, making a great alley in the midst thereof," and pressed so hard upon the King himself that, had not Dunbar, the only Scotch noble who stood by him, drawn him out of the press, that first charge might have decided the day. The Royal standard was struck down, and the bearer, Sir Walter Blunt, slain, together with the Earl of Stafford, that morning made High Constable of the realm in room of Northumberland, and many another valiant cap

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Douglas, disdaining all meaner foes, sought everywhere for the King. Thrice he struck down a figure clad in

the royal armor, but still as he raged through the battle a fresh one met his sword. "I marvel,'' he said. " to see so many kings thus suddenly arise one on the neck of another." Young Prince Henry, say the chronicles, "helped his father like a lusty young gentleman." Early in the day he had been wounded in the face by an arrow, but fought on as stoutly as ever, resisting all persuasion to leave the field. With such marvellous stoutness, indeed, does he seem to have borne himself for a lad of fifteen, that one cannot but wonder if there may not be some error in the date of his birth, or if a portion of that divinity which hedges a king may not have gilded the pens of these good chroniclers.

So for three hours the battle raged, and still fortune frowned on the Royal arms. Louder and louder grew the shouts of "Percy, King! Percy, King!" till even some of the laggard Welsh were moved to leave their ranks and strike in. Meanwhile Henry had rallied and brought up his second column, and just as he plunged at their head into the insurgent ranks, he saw a random arrow stretch Hotspur on the ground. Percy is dead!" he shouted in a voice that rose clear above the din, and at the cry the fortunes of the day changed as though by magic. With fresh confidence and strength the Royalists pressed on; the Insurgents halted, wavered, broke, and fled.

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the number of his men he always contrived to tine, or lose, in battle-with the wounds of his last fight still fresh upon him, fell heavily as he was urging his horse up the side of Haughmond Hill, and was taken prisoner. Lords Worces ter and Kinderton and Sir Richard Vernon shared the same fate. The total loss of the Insurgents is rated at five thousand men, and of these, according to one report, no less than thirty-six fell by the King's own hand. Of the Royalists one thousand five hundred are said to have fallen, but as many as four thou sand were returned grievously" wounded. wounded. Among the slain were Lord Stafford and Sir Walter Blunt, together with many knights who had won their spurs only that morning. The most part of the dead were buried in a vast pit, over which now stands Battlefield Church, the later growth of a small chapel built by Henry in commemoration of his victory. Hospur's body was given for burial to his kinsman Lord Furnival, but the story goes, though on no very certain authority, that it was afterward dug up by Henry's orders, and paraded with cruel indignities through the streets of Shrewsbury. Douglas was courteously treated and released without ransom, freely and frankly delivered for his valiantness ;"' but Worcester, "the procurer and setter-forth of all this mischief," Kinderton, and Vernon were beheaded on the following Monday. The King's conduct after his victory is thus quaintly related by Grafton: "He first rendered his humble and hearty thanks to God Almighty, and caused the Earl of Worcester the next morrow after to be drawn, hanged, and quartered in the town of Shrewsbury, and his head to be sent to London, and there set upon a pole upon London Bridge."-Saturday Review.

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THE MAORI KING IN LONDON. AN INTERVIEW WITH KING TAWHAIO.

THE Maori King is not an easy gentleman to interview, so says our representative, whom we dispatched to Bloomsbury to ascertain his opinions of England and the English. He smokes

a pipe, answers a question, and smokes again. Or he may go across the way to his tailor's. We give the account of what happened in our representative's own words:

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