to truth than a syllogism. At a lower depth of introspection, the necessity for God may present itself under an equally imperious sanction. For what the self craves for is to recognise its own absolute reality, its eternity. But as far as we can see, it has no more permanence than the foam on the wave. The series of human generations, the particular system of determined relations in which the self finds itself enmeshed and by the assertion of which it borrows for a time an enhanced and extended life-without the assertion of which it would die, this is the point-is seen on the most elementary reflection to be as ephemeral and evanescent an illusion as its own independent existence. Either then the self must go further and assert an eternal reality which shall ensure its own together with the reality of those human relations on which it has fed, or it has merely postponed the moment of its despair. There are no compelling intellectual reasons for doing so, any more than there are for transcending solipsism. But to those who have reached that point of analytic introspection which reveals that the reality of the self depends on the reality of God, there is psychological sanction enough. There is the sanction of the death of the soul. At that depth the only vital support is the message which St. Theresa heard in ecstasy, 'Seek thyself in Me.'

It may be said that it is one thing to affirm God and another to accept Catholicism. No doubt there are theists who are not Catholics. Not many, however, in France. Moreover, the essentially concrete and realist nature of the Barrèsian method with its characteristic aversion to metaphysical assertions would, if it led to any acceptation of religion, surely lead to the acceptation of the religion of the collectivity in which a man finds himself. For religion is invoked to give reality to collectivity. As to Barrès' own attitude as expressed in his books-and any other inquiry would be an impertinenceit may be defined as love of and sympathy with Catholicism up to faith, exclusively. He has never written a word that goes beyond that.

The ethic of Barrès resumes itself in the one precept to live in harmony with oneself. Among the ideas which solicit our energy, let us select those which move in the direction of our own instinct and our own intelligence. Our first duty is not to bring confusion into the house of our soul. Une seule

'règle vaut celle que nous arrachons de notre cœur sincère.' Man, like Michelangelo's Moses, holds his law in his own hands. In order to harmonise himself with others, it is first of all necessary that he should be himself, fully, completely. It is by digging deep into our nature that we shall discover the essential unity of ourselves with others. Such is the philosophy which lends depth to the spiritual adventures that are the staple of these wonderful books. It fortifies and elevates the energy of the individual, dignifies the idea of the State, and ennobles our personal interpretation of life. It offers us a reasonable faith in our individual destiny in the place of an arid metaphysic that would dissipate as illusions all those slowly formed unities on which our moral life depends; it offers us a discipline which is conditioned by our own initiative.

The influence of Barrès in France has been growing for the last twenty years. At the present moment it stands at its zenith. Nor are there any signs of its decline. It has been a leading element in the intellectual formation of the splendid young generation who are fighting so gloriously for their country and for the liberty of Europe at this moment. It has given them an intelligent patriotism. Could a writer have served his country better? That service will outlast the war, and among the influences that will go to form the new and emancipated France, none will be more important than that of Maurice Barrès.

ALGAR THOROLD.

THE RESTORATION OF MONARCHY IN CHINA

T this crisis in the history of Western civilisation, when the inherent strength and cohesion of democratic institutions are being tested in the crucible of war by the highly centralised system of Prussian autocracy, there is food for much reflection in the political and moral detachment of the Chinese people. Unperturbed by the stupendous clash of arms and ideals which convulses Europe, a quarter of the earth's population continues, on lines prescribed by its experience and immemorial traditions, to seek the solution of its own insistent problem, the problem of so reconciling its political and social systems with a changing environment as to obtain something like security for life and property. If one may judge by the utterances of Chinese officials and writers, there is, in their attitude of aloofness from Europe's war, an element of judicial complacency. Indeed, it would be strange if, after all that their defenceless State has suffered at the hands of European advisers and aggressors, they should not discover in the present devastating struggle good reasons for continuing to doubt the advantages of Western civilisation, and reassurances of justification for persisting in their own patriarchal ideals of government. Looking back over the long record of vitality and achievement which their country has produced under a non-militant type of civilisation, the scholars and statesmen of China may well ask themselves what shall it profit the nation to forsake the teachings of the Sages if the end of the new learning be Armageddon?

For the past fifty years, China has been warned by missionaries and diplomatists that she must reform and change her ways if she would take her place in the comity of civilised nations; that she must rebuild her state upon material and military foundations, or risk the loss of national independence. These warnings have been earnestly emphasised by demonstration of the social and political advantages enjoyed by Western nations, and of the dangers which threaten a people whose

economic and military forces are not scientifically organised. Yet, in spite of surface manifestations of conformity to these exhortations, in spite of the noisy activities of an exotic body of foreign-educated intellectuals, it may safely be asserted that at no period have the Chinese people or its rulers been really convinced of the moral superiority of Western institutions. On the contrary, every page of their history proves the persistence of their faith in that system of moral philosophy, deep-rooted in the soul of their people, which has preserved the race, if not from foreign attack, at least from internal disruption; which, even through periods when the Empire was invaded and governed by alien rulers, has preserved, unconquered and invincible, the vital spirit of its homogeneous civilisation. This faith is likely to be strengthened rather than impaired by the spectacle which Europe now presents to the placid mind of the Chinese people. They can hardly fail to be impressed by the claims advanced by a government of personal autocracy to moral and material superiority over the world's most enlightened democracies. They may further reflect that the ideals of a democratic commonwealth do not necessarily inspire, in those who profess them, a nobler spirit of self-sacrifice than that evoked by the Kultur of German autocracy.

The protracted period of unrest which culminated four years ago in the accidentally successful revolution of Young China, the abdication of the Manchu dynasty and the proclamation of a Republic at Peking, differed from many similar crises in the history of China chiefly by reason of the fact that the possibility of foreign intervention, in defence of real or alleged foreign interests, created new dangers that were realised alike by Young China and Old. The perils to be apprehended from the Government's failure to meet its obligations in the matter of foreign loans and treaties were not to be overcome by any of the rough-and-ready methods by which autocratic authority had been wont to re-establish itself after similar internal convulsions in the past. The collapse of the Manchu dynasty had been plainly foreshadowed for half a century. The tottering fabric of its discredited power had only been held together, since the Taiping rebellion, by the resourceful statecraft of the Empress Dowager Tzŭ Hsi and by the support of the Treaty Powers, concerned for the protection of their trade.

The forces which actually drove the Manchus from the Dragon Throne were in themselves insignificant. The success of Young China's conspiracy was due to the utter incompetence and cowardice of Tzu Hsi's successors, rather than to any definite policy or organised force of the revolutionaries. At the critical moment of disruption, precipitated by a series of local and unimportant outbreaks, the Government at Peking proved to be without leaders, funds or organisation of authority to stem the tide of Young China's undisciplined iconoclasm.

One man alone, Yuan Shih-k'ai, stood firm for a time and struggled single-handed for the maintenance of the Throne, as the only effective rallying-point for the reorganisation of a government suited to the needs of the people. At the outset he fought with determination, stoutly declaring his belief that the attempt to establish a Republic in China could only produce internal wrangling leading to anarchy.' But when at last he found himself unsupported by the foreign Powers, whose financial assistance he had had every reason to expect; when he realised that the metropolitan administration and the literati of the provinces were just as much disorganised and terrified as the Manchus themselves by the swift development of the revolution, he followed the opportunist traditions of his class and creed, consenting (with perceptible mental reservations) to accept the Presidency of the Republic. It is a fact significant of the condition of public affairs in China that, only three months before, he had declared that to be a party to the establishment of a Republic would brand him as a liar before all the world,' and that Young China never saw fit to charge him with inconsistency in this matter.

As it was at the time of the triumph of the Young Turks in 1908, so it was when Young China upset the Dragon Throne in 1911. Misled by the tumult and the shouting of students and professional agitators, who proclaimed the birth of a new era to the cry of 'liberty, equality and fraternity,' many observers at a distance and some upon the spot welcomed the establishment of the Republic as a proof of the Chinese people's political consciousness and fitness for representative government. In the infectious enthusiasm of the moment, the deep-rooted economic evils, which are the permanent cause of social and political unrest in China, were overlooked; the clamour of selfseeking politicians was mistaken for an outburst of patriotic