LETTERS AND POLITICS.
WE all know how Mr. Birrell has unwittingly given us a neologism; nomen appellativum. has passed into nomen. reale. To those who would describe a kind of humorous talk or writing of peculiarly delicate literary flavour, it comes natural to talk of "pleasant birrelling." And some of us incline to look upon the garland we thus bestow as no mere honour, but a sign of office, prospective as well as retrospec- tive in its meaning, and amounting to prepayment for a regular supply of dicta, no longer obiter, but ex officio. Un- luckily for us, Mr. Birrell is developing another way, giving up to party what was meant for mankind: "The resolutions" (of the National Liberal Federation) " were supported in an admirably patriotic speech by Mr. Birrell"; "Mr. Birrell accepts the invitation to resign a safe seat and contest N.E. Manchester": statements of policy and electoral forlorn hopes are the order of the day. So far as talk goes, we may yet nurse hopes for a while, though there is no telling how soon the horrible doctrine, that solid commonplace in speech is the road to political success, may begin to work upon a party leader; but what about those books that we desire ? Far be it from us to wish the Opposition less by one man of light and leading; on that head our record is clear : we can lay our hand on our heart and protest that it is not as party politicians that we entreat Mr. Birrell to pause. What are statesmen but importunate stewards of our property, to whom we listen because we must, with ears reluctant as the rake's in Hogarth ? But with the litterateur the quality of attention is not strained : we listen only as long as we please, which in Mr. Birrell's case will be as long as he pleases. Does he realise what he is to us? does he, in Greek phrase, "being of high worth, so account of himself "? or does be hold himself cheap, as no more than a critic ? It is true we have critics enough : it is an age of chatter about Shelley ; criticism raised to the nth is a thought of terror, and the latest news- paper writer's idea of Mr. Leslie Stephen's idea of Johnson's idea of Milton's idea of Edward King might be dispensed with ; but we have none too much of that criticism which besides being criticism is new creation. Lamb is thumbed while many an "original" writer inhabits the shelf; and thumb-marks down the page are vastly preferable to a dust- steeped half-inch along the top.
"Alas, alas, pray end what you began,
And write next winter more Essays on Man ;"
so say we, mutatis mutandis, to Mr. Birrell. But he will doubtless go his own way ; and it is time to confess that we are but half serious. After all, letters and politics are not quite irreconcilable; let us glance at one or two cases of com- promise between them, or of one's victory over the other. We take it that among men of great ability a large majority are capable of using their talents in any of several directions, and that it is very much a matter of circumstance which of these they take (how fortuitous our lives are! it is only the "rolling stones" who give themselves a fair trial). An exception must be made for those poets whose natural note is lyrical : to them we imagine self-absorption to be essential ; but it is very hard to believe, for instance, that Shakespeare, with absolute mastery of the human heart and the wide tolerance of full knowledge, would not have made a first - rate statesman, if fortune had been unkind enough to allow it. Assuming this general versatility of talent, and applying it merely to letters and politics, we have to admit that the attraction of the second is to most men the greater. Posterity and our memory are something to us, but contemporaries and our life are more. To think and write is very well; to do is better. If letters, nevertheless, hold their own, it is owing to the shy consciousness that we cannot do ourselves justice in public ; perfection, or what seems such, is easier attained in the study than in the Senate.
We have spoken in jest of Shakespeare; the serious instance of his time is naturally Bacon. He "knew himself to be fitter to hold a book than to play a part "; yet the attraction of political activity proved too great ; he is for ever half repenting his choice, and wailing multum incola fait anima mea ; but the greater part of his life was spent in politics, and, if the rest was not, be would have liked it to be. He had, in fact, a double ambition,—to benefit his kind by reform both in science and in politics. Professor Gardiner's able defence of him gives at least a plausible account of the dealings which have stained his name. " His intellect was too broad to leave room for any strength of emotional nature." His enthusiasms were not personal, but abstract; Elizabeth, Essex, James, Charles, Buckingham, were ndt patrons to advance his interest, but puppets to be used in working out his reforms. He failed : practical as he was in his readiness to compromise and cajole and use any means, he was unpractical in not understanding why his puppets could not rise to his large views,— jest the weakness we should expect from one whom Nature designed to write. With his ideas of religions toleration, conciliation between Crown and Parliament, and the rest, he was as much before his time as Burke. He lived the double life ; the single would have been better for his fame : whether better or worse for his service to mankind is hardly now to be settled. We must be content with the like un- certainty upon Milton. Twenty years of his life were given to wranglings in Latin with the like of Saumase in the ser- vice of the State,—with, for definite fruits worth speaking of, only the "Areopagitica " and a sonnet or two. What ideas should we have attached to Milton's name if he had never been clerk to the Commonwealth ? The question is as unanswer- able as what Keats might have done if he had died as old as Tennyson. As well ask what the world would have been if Xerxes had won at Salamis, or Hasdrubal at the Metauras. It is no mere question of what we should have had besides the " Paradise Lost." The " Para- dise Lost " would not have been what it is ; imagine a dreary classical drama in its place and anyhow, what would the great debate in Pandemonium have been like with- out the twenty years' experience of men which went to the making of it ? It is consoling, if optimistic, to believe that what the writers do get delivered of is their best, despite premature deaths and serving of tables ; and perhaps if we knew all, it is not far from truth. A good case is supplied by Charles Austin. J. S. Mill writes that " the impression he gave was that of boundless strength together with talents which seemed capable of dominating the world "; and the opinion seems to have been shared by all who knew him. Now, if he had either died young or become a statesman, we should have said, " What books have we lost !" but in fact he refused invitations to enter Parliament, made his fortune at the Bar, and afterwards lived retired and scarcely known to be alive for over twenty years ; his leisure brought us nothing.
The eighteenth century, with Addison, Swift, and Boling- broke, Gibbon and Bentham, Sheridan and Burke, is full of illustration, which we must deal with very summarily. To Addison and Gibbon we suppose that a place, with its dignity and its pay, was the chief attraction of Parliament; and it did not interfere seriously with devotion to letters. Swift's bustling love of power would, but for his profession, have made him a politician pure and simple; as it was, the main- spring of his work was political. Bolingbroke, the modern Alcibiades of Mr. Bagehot's conception, was far too restless and vain not to prefer the conspicuous political stage, though he was versatile enough to like inspiring Pope's philosophy when leisure served, and possessed of a style too rapid and effective to be left idle when banishment from public activity came. Sheridan more than any one else gives the proof that complete success in both spheres is possible. Dramatic triumphs led to his social and Parliamentary popularity; and his career as a statesman was no suttee d'estime. The oratorical splendour of the Warren Hastings speeches went with a wide political wisdom upon the French Revolution and the union with Ireland.
We take Bentham and Burke together for the sake of contrast. Bentham, like Adam Smith, was one of the " masters of them that know " on social and political and legal matters ; but he was content to act vicariously : we talk not of Bentham, but of the Benthamites. " Every law- book, every statute, the course of every action, bear testimony to his influence." The curious thing is that, great at abstract principles, but...also delighting in detail, and absolutely free from literary vanity, he might seem just the man for a public career. In point of fact, be once applied to his friend Lord Shelburne for a seat ; but it is olear that he never concerned
himself seriously about it. Tne contrast with Burke is obvious; the latter, " Bacon alone excepted, the greatest political thinker who has ever devoted himself to the practice of English poli'ics," did indeed accomplish his magnificent work as indirectly as Bentham ; but such was far from his intention; he aimed at doing it directly; and, roughly speaking, he was, except on certain great occasions, a Parliamentary failure- " Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining."
We have left ourselves no space to deal with the many pertinent names of our own century and our own day; and, with or without them, the conflict of evidence is such that Mr. Birrell must even have the benefit of the doubt.
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