CHAPTER VIII

.

THE DIDACTIC.

Certainly it were a fond imagination to expect that any preaching of mine could abate Mammonism; that Bobus of Houndsditch will love his guineas less, or his poor soul more, for any preaching of mine! But there is one Preacher who does preach with effect, and gradually persuade all persons: his name is Destiny, is Divine Providence, and his Sermon the inflexible Course of Things. Experience does take dreadfully high school-wages; but he teaches like no other!

I revert to Friend Prudence the good Quaker's refusal of 'seven thousand pounds to boot.' Friend Prudence's practical conclusion will, by degrees, become that of all rational practical men whatsoever. On the present scheme and principle, Work cannot continue. Trades' Strikes, Trades' Unions, Chartisms; mutiny, squalor, rage and desperate revolt, growing ever more desperate, will go on their way. As dark misery settles down on us, and our refuges of lies fall in pieces one after one, the hearts of men, now at last serious, will turn to refuges of truth. The eternal stars shine out again, so soon as it is dark _enough_.

Begirt with desperate Trades' Unionism and Anarchic Mutiny, many an Industrial _Law-ward_, by and by, who has neglected to make laws and keep them, will be heard saying to himself: "Why have I realised five hundred thousand pounds? I rose early and sat late, I toiled and moiled, and in the sweat of my brow and of my soul I strove to gain this money, that I might become conspicuous, and have some honour among my fellow-creatures. I wanted them to honour me, to love me. The money is here, earned with my best lifeblood: but the honour? I am encircled with squalor, with hunger, rage, and sooty desperation. Not honoured, hardly even envied; only fools and the flunky-species so much as envy me. I am conspicuous,--as a mark for curses and brickbats. What good is it? My five hundred scalps hang here in my wigwam: would to Heaven I had sought something else than the scalps; would to Heaven I had been a Christian Fighter, not a Chactaw one! To have ruled and fought not in a Mammonish but in a Godlike spirit; to have had the hearts of the people bless me, as a true ruler and captain of my people; to have felt my own heart bless me, and that God above instead of Mammon below was blessing me,--this had been something. Out of my sight, ye beggarly five hundred scalps of banker's-thousands: I will try for something other, or account my life a tragical futility!"

Friend Prudence's 'rock-ledge,' as we called it, will gradually disclose itself to many a man; to all men. Gradually, assaulted from beneath and from above, the Stygian mud-deluge of Laissez-faire, Supply-and-demand, Cash-payment the one Duty, will abate on all hands; and the everlasting mountain-tops, and secure rock-foundations that reach to the centre of the world, and rest on Nature's self, will again emerge, to found on, and to build on. When Mammon-worshippers here and there begin to be God-worshippers, and bipeds-of-prey become men, and there is a Soul felt once more in the huge-pulsing elephantine mechanic Animalism of this Earth, it will be again a blessed Earth.

"Men cease to regard money?" cries Bobus of Houndsditch: "What else do all men strive for? The very Bishop informs me that Christianity cannot get on without a minimum of Four thousand five hundred in its pocket. Cease to regard money? That will be at Doomsday in the afternoon!"--O Bobus, my opinion is somewhat different. My opinion is, that the Upper Powers have not yet determined on destroying this Lower World. A respectable, ever-increasing minority, who do strive for something higher than money, I with confidence anticipate; ever-increasing, till there be a sprinkling of them found in all quarters, as salt of the Earth once more. The Christianity that cannot get on without a minimum of Four thousand five hundred, will give place to something better that can. Thou wilt not join our small minority, thou? Not till Doomsday in the afternoon? Well; _then_, at least, thou wilt join it, thou and the majority in mass!

But truly it is beautiful to see the brutish empire of Mammon cracking everywhere; giving sure promise of dying, or of being changed. A strange, chill, almost ghastly dayspring strikes up in Yankeeland itself: my Transcendental friends announce there, in a distinct, though somewhat lankhaired, ungainly manner, that the Demiurgus Dollar is dethroned; that new unheard-of Demiurgusships, Priesthoods, Aristocracies, Growths and Destructions, are already visible in the gray of coming Time. Chronos is dethroned by Jove; Odin by St. Olaf: the Dollar cannot rule in Heaven forever. No; I reckon, not. Socinian Preachers quit their pulpits in Yankeeland, saying, "Friends, this is all gone to coloured cobweb, we regret to say!"--and retire into the fields to cultivate onion-beds, and live frugally on vegetables. It is very notable. Old godlike Calvinism declares that its old body is now fallen to tatters, and done; and its mournful ghost, disembodied, seeking new embodiment, pipes again in the winds;--a ghost and spirit as yet, but heralding new Spirit-worlds, and better Dynasties than the Dollar one.

Yes, here as there, light is coming into the world; men love not darkness, they do love light. A deep feeling of the eternal nature of Justice looks out among us everywhere,--even through the dull eyes of Exeter Hall; an unspeakable religiousness struggles, in the most helpless manner, to speak itself, in Puseyisms and the like. Of our Cant, all condemnable, how much is not condemnable without pity; we had almost said, without respect! The _in_articulate worth and truth that is in England goes down yet to the Foundations.

Some 'Chivalry of Labour,' some noble Humanity and practical Divineness of Labour, will yet be realised on this Earth. Or why _will_; why do we pray to Heaven, without setting our own shoulder to the wheel? The Present, if it will have the Future accomplish, shall itself commence. Thou who prophesiest, who believest, begin thou to fulfil. Here or nowhere, now equally as at any time! That outcast help-needing thing or person, trampled down under vulgar feet or hoofs, no help 'possible' for it, no prize offered for the saving of it,--canst not thou save it, then, without prize? Put forth thy hand, in God's name; know that 'impossible,' where Truth and Mercy and the everlasting Voice of Nature order, has no place in the brave man's dictionary. That when all men have said "Impossible," and tumbled noisily elsewhither, and thou alone art left, then first thy time and possibility have come. It is for thee now; do thou that, and ask no man's counsel, but thy own only, and God's. Brother, thou hast possibility in thee for much: the possibility of writing on the eternal skies the record of a heroic life. That noble downfallen or yet unborn 'Impossibility,' thou canst lift it up, thou canst, by thy soul's travail, bring it into clear being. That loud inane Actuality, with millions in its pocket, too 'possible' that, which rolls along there, with quilted trumpeters blaring round it, and all the world escorting it as mute or vocal flunky,--escort it not thou; say to it, either nothing, or else deeply in thy heart: "Loud-blaring Nonentity, no force of trumpets, cash, Long-acre art, or universal flunkyhood of men, makes thee an Entity; thou art a _Non_entity, and deceptive Simulacrum, more accursed than thou seemest. Pass on in the Devil's name, unworshipped by at least one man, and leave the thoroughfare clear!"

Not on Ilion's or Latium's plains; on far other plains and places henceforth can noble deeds be now done. Not on Ilion's plains; how much less in Mayfair's drawingrooms! Not in victory over poor brother French or Phrygians; but in victory over Frost-joetuns, Marsh-giants, over demons of Discord, Idleness, Injustice, Unreason, and Chaos come again. None of the old Epics is longer possible. The Epic of French and Phrygians was comparatively a small Epic: but that of Flirts and Fribbles, what is that? A thing that vanishes at cock-crowing,--that already begins to scent the morning air! Game-preserving Aristocracies, let them 'bush' never so effectually, cannot escape the Subtle Fowler. Game seasons will be excellent, and again will be indifferent, and by and by they will not be at all. The Last Partridge of England, of an England where millions of men can get no corn to eat, will be shot and ended. Aristocracies with beards on their chins will find other work to do than amuse themselves with trundling-hoops.

* * * * *

But it is to you, ye Workers, who do already work, and are as grown men, noble and honourable in a sort, that the whole world calls for new work and nobleness. Subdue mutiny, discord, wide-spread despair, by manfulness, justice, mercy and wisdom. Chaos is dark, deep as Hell; let light be, and there is instead a green flowery World. Oh, it is great, and there is no other greatness. To make some nook of God's Creation a little fruitfuller, better, more worthy of God; to make some human hearts a little wiser, manfuler, happier,--more blessed, less accursed! It is work for a God. Sooty Hell of mutiny and savagery and despair can, by man's energy, be made a kind of Heaven; cleared of its soot, of its mutiny, of its need to mutiny; the everlasting arch of Heaven's azure overspanning _it_ too, and its cunning mechanisms and tall chimney-steeples, as a birth of Heaven; God and all men looking on it well pleased.

Unstained by wasteful deformities, by wasted tears or heart's-blood of men, or any defacement of the Pit, noble fruitful Labour, growing ever nobler, will come forth,--the grand sole miracle of Man; whereby Man has risen from the low places of this Earth, very literally, into divine Heavens. Ploughers, Spinners, Builders; Prophets, Poets, Kings; Brindleys and Goethes, Odins and Arkwrights; all martyrs, and noble men, and gods are of one grand Host; immeasurable; marching ever forward since the beginnings of the World. The enormous, all-conquering, flame-crowned Host, noble every soldier in it; sacred, and alone noble. Let him who is not of it hide himself; let him tremble for himself. Stars at every button cannot make him noble; sheaves of Bath-garters, nor bushels of Georges; nor any other contrivance but manfully enlisting in it, valiantly taking place and step in it. O Heavens, will he not bethink himself; he too is so needed in the Host! It were so blessed, thrice-blessed, for himself and for us all! In hope of the Last Partridge, and some Duke of Weimar among our English Dukes, we will be patient yet a while.

'The Future hides in it Gladness and sorrow; We press still thorow, Nought that abides in it Daunting us,--onward.'

SUMMARY AND INDEX.

SUMMARY.

## BOOK I.--PROEM.

Chap. I. _Midas._

The condition of England one of the most ominous ever seen in this world: Full of wealth in every kind, yet dying of inanition. Workhouses, in which no work can be done. Destitution in Scotland. Stockport Assizes. (p. 3.)--England's unprofitable success: Human faces glooming discordantly on one another. Midas longed for gold, and the gods gave it him. (7.)

Chap. II. _The Sphinx._

The grand unnamable Sphinx-riddle, which each man is called upon to solve. Notions of the foolish concerning justice and judgment. Courts of Westminster, and the general High Court of the Universe. The one strong thing, the just thing, the true thing. (p. 10.)--A noble Conservatism, as well as an ignoble. In all battles of men each fighter, in the end, prospers according to his right: Wallace of Scotland. (15.)--Fact and Semblance. What is Justice? As many men as there are in a Nation who can _see_ Heaven's Justice, so many are there who stand between it and perdition. (17.)

Chap. III. _Manchester Insurrection._

Peterloo not an unsuccessful Insurrection. Governors who wait for Insurrection to instruct them, getting into the fatalest courses. Unspeakable County Yeomanry. Poor Manchester operatives, and their huge inarticulate question: Unhappy Workers, unhappier Idlers, of this actual England! (p. 19.)--Fair day's-wages for fair day's-work: Milton's 'wages,' Cromwell's. Pay to each man what he has earned and done and deserved; what more have we to ask?--Some not _in_supportable approximation indispensable and inevitable. (24.)

Chap. IV. _Morrisons Pill._

A state of mind worth reflecting on. No Morrison's Pill for curing the maladies of Society: Universal alteration of regimen and way of life: Vain jargon giving place to some genuine Speech again. (p. 29.)--If we walk according to the Law of this Universe, the Law-Maker will befriend us; if not, not. Quacks, sham heroes, the one bane of the world. Quack and Dupe, upper side and under of the selfsame substance. (31.)

Chap. V. _Aristocracy of Talent._

All misery the fruit of unwisdom: Neither with individuals nor with Nations is it fundamentally otherwise. Nature in late centuries universally supposed to be dead; but now everywhere asserting herself to be alive and miraculous. The guidance of this country not sufficiently wise. (p. 34.)--Aristocracy of talent, or government by the Wisest, a dreadfully difficult affair to get started. The true _eye_ for talent; and the flunky eye for respectabilities, warm garnitures and larders dropping fatness: Bobus and Bobissimus. (37.)

Chap VI. _Hero-worship._

Enlightened Egoism, never so luminous, not the rule by which man's life can be led. A _soul_, different from a stomach in any sense of the word. Hero-worship done differently in every different epoch of the world. Reform, like Charity, must begin at home. 'Arrestment of the knaves and dastards,' beginning by arresting our own poor selves out of that fraternity. (p. 41.)--The present Editor's purpose to himself full of hope. A Loadstar in the eternal sky: A glimmering of light, for here and there a human soul. (45.)

## BOOK II.--THE ANCIENT MONK.

Chap. I. _Jocelin of Brakelond._

How the Centuries stand lineally related to each other. The one Book not permissible, the kind that has nothing in it. Jocelin's 'Chronicle,' a private Boswellean Notebook, now seven centuries old. How Jocelin, from under his monk's cowl, looked out on that narrow section of the world in a really _human_ manner: A wise simplicity in him; a _veracity_ that goes deeper than words. Jocelin's Monk-Latin; and Mr. Rokewood's editorial helpfulness and fidelity. (p. 51.)--A veritable Monk of old Bury St. Edmunds worth attending to. This England of ours, of the year 1200: Coeur-de-Lion: King Lackland, and his thirteenpenny mass. The poorest historical Fact, and the grandest imaginative Fiction. (55.)

Chap. II. _St. Edmundsbury._

St. Edmund's Bury, a prosperous brisk Town: Extensive ruins of the Abbey still visible. Assiduous Pedantry, and its rubbish-heaps called 'History.' Another world it was, when those black ruins first saw the sun as walls. At lowest, O dilettante friend, let us know always that it _was_ a world. No easy matter to get across the chasm of Seven Centuries: Of all helps, a Boswell, even a small Boswell, the welcomest. (p. 60.)

Chap. III. _Landlord Edmund._

'Battle of Fornham,' a fact, though a forgotten one. Edmund, Landlord of the Eastern Counties: A very singular kind of 'landlord.' How he came to be 'sainted.' Seen and felt to have done verily a man's part in this life-pilgrimage of his. How they took up the slain body of their Edmund, and reverently embalmed it. (p. 65.)--Pious munificence, ever growing by new pious gifts. Certain Times do crystallise themselves in a magnificent manner, others in a rather shabby one. (71.)

Chap. IV. _Abbot Hugo._

All things have two faces, a light one and a dark: The Ideal has to grow in the Real, and to seek its bed and board there, often in a very sorry manner. Abbot Hugo, grown old and feeble. Jew debts and Jew creditors. How approximate justice strives to accomplish itself. (p. 73.)--In the old monastic Books almost no mention whatever of 'personal religion.' A poor Lord Abbot, all stuck-over with horse-leeches: A 'royal commission of inquiry,' to no purpose. A monk's first duty, obedience. Magister Samson, Teacher of the Novices. The Abbot's providential death. (76.)

Chap. V. _Twelfth Century._

Inspectors or Custodiars; the King not in any breathless haste to appoint a new Abbot. Dim and very strange looks that monk-life to us. Our venerable ancient spinning grandmothers, shrieking, and rushing out with their distaffs. Lakenheath eels too slippery to be caught. (p. 79.)--How much is alive in England, in that Twelfth Century; how much not yet come into life. Feudal Aristocracy; Willelmus Conquaestor: Not a steeple-chimney yet got on end from sea to sea. (82.)

Chap. VI. _Monk Samson._

Monk-Life and Monk-Religion: A great heaven-high Unquestionability, encompassing, interpenetrating all human Duties. Our modern Arkwright Joe-Manton ages: All human dues and reciprocities changed into one great due of 'cash-payment.' The old monks but a limited class of creatures, with a somewhat dull life of it. (p. 84.)--One Monk of a taciturn nature distinguishes himself among those babbling ones. A Son of poor Norfolk parents. Little Samson's awful dream: His poor Mother dedicates him to St. Edmund. He grows to be a learned man, of devout grave nature. Sent to Rome on business; and returns _too_ successful: Method of travelling thither in those days. His tribulations at home. Strange conditions under which Wisdom has sometimes to struggle with folly. (86.)

Chap. VII. _The Canvassing._

A new Abbot to be elected. Even gossip, seven centuries off, has significance. The Prior with Twelve Monks, to wait on his Majesty at Waltham. An 'election' the one important social act. Given the Man a People choose, the worth and worthlessness of the People itself is given. (p. 92.)

Chap. VIII. _The Election._

Electoral methods and manipulations. Brother Samson ready oftenest with some question, some suggestion that has wisdom in it. The Thirteen off to Waltham, to choose their Abbot: In the solitude of the Convent, Destiny thus big and in her birthtime, what gossiping, babbling, dreaming of dreams! (p. 96.)--King Henry II. in his high Presence-chamber. Samson chosen Abbot: the King's royal acceptation. (99.)--St. Edmundsbury Monks, without express ballot-box or other winnowing machine. In every Nation and Community there is at all times _a fittest_, wisest, bravest, best. Human Worth and human Worthlessness. (103.)

Chap. IX. _Abbot Samson._

The Lord Abbot's arrival at St. Edmundsbury: The selfsame Samson yesterday a poor mendicant, this day finds himself a _Dominus Abbas_ and mitred Peer of Parliament. (p. 105.)--Depth and opulence of true social vitality in those old barbarous ages. True Governors go about under all manner of disguises now as then. Genius, Poet; what these words mean George the Third, head charioteer of England; and Robert Burns, gauger of ale in Dumfries. (106.)--How Abbot Samson found a Convent all in dilapidation. His life-long harsh apprenticeship to governing, namely obeying. First get your Man; all is got. Danger of blockheads. (108.)

Chap. X. _Government._

Beautiful, how the chrysalis governing-soul, shaking off its dusty slough and prison, starts forth winged, a true royal soul! One first labour, to institute a strenuous review and radical reform of his economics. Wheresoever Disorder may stand or lie, let it have a care; here is a man that has declared war with it. (p. 112.)--In less than four years the Convent debts are all liquidated, and the harpy Jews banished from St. Edmundsbury. New life springs beneficent everywhere: Spiritual rubbish as little tolerated as material. (114.)

Chap. XI. _The Abbot's Ways._

Reproaches, open and secret, of ingratitude, unsociability: Except for 'fit men' in all kinds, hard to say for whom Abbot Samson had much favour. Remembrance of benefits. (p. 117.)--An eloquent man, but intent more on substance than on ornament. A just clear heart the basis of all true talent. One of the justest of judges: His invaluable 'talent of silence.' Kind of people he liked worst. Hospitality and stoicism. (119.)--The country in those days still dark with noble wood and umbrage: How the old trees gradually died out, no man heeding it. Monachism itself, so rich and fruitful once, now all rotted into _peat_. Devastations of four-footed cattle and Henry-the-Eighths. (122.)

Chap. XII. _The Abbot's Troubles._

The troubles of Abbot Samson more than tongue can tell. Not the spoil of victory, only the glorious toil of battle, can be theirs who really govern. An insurrection of the Monks. Behave better, ye remiss Monks, and thank Heaven for such an Abbot. (p. 124.)--Worn down with incessant toil and tribulation: Gleams of hilarity too; little snatches of encouragement granted even to a Governor. How my Lord of Clare, coming to claim his _un_due 'debt,' gets a Roland for his Oliver. A Life of Literature, noble and ignoble. (126.)

Chap. XIII. _In Parliament._

Confused days of Lackland's usurpation, while Coeur-de-Lion was away: Our brave Abbot took helmet himself, excommunicating all who should favour Lackland. King Richard a captive in Germany. (p. 131.)--St. Edmund's Shrine not meddled with: A heavenly Awe overshadowed and encompassed, as it still ought and must, all earthly Business whatsoever. (132.)

Chap. XIV. _Henry of Essex._

How St. Edmund punished terribly, yet with mercy: A Narrative significant of the Time. Henry Earl of Essex, standard-bearer of England: No right reverence for the Heavenly in Man. A traitor or a coward. Solemn Duel, by the King's appointment. An evil Conscience doth make cowards of us all. (p. 134.)

Chap. XV. _Practical-Devotional._

A Tournament proclaimed and held in the Abbot's domain, in spite of him. Roystering young dogs brought to reason. The Abbot a man that generally remains master at last: The importunate Bishop of Ely outwitted. A man that dare abide King Richard's anger, with justice on his side. Thou brave Richard, thou brave Samson! (p. 139.)--The basis of Abbot Samson's life truly religion. His zealous interest in the Crusades. The great antique heart, like a child's in its simplicity, like a man's in its earnest solemnity and depth. His comparative silence as to his religion precisely the healthiest sign of him and it. Methodism, Dilettantism, Puseyism. (144.)

Chap. XVI. _St. Edmund._

Abbot Samson built many useful, many pious edifices: ALL ruinous, incomplete things an eye-sorrow to him. Rebuilding the great Altar: A glimpse of the glorious Martyr's very Body. What a scene; how far vanished from us, in these unworshipping ages of ours! The manner of men's Hero-worship, verily the innermost fact of their existence, determining all the rest. (p. 148.)--On the whole, who knows how to reverence the Body of Man? Abbot Samson, at the culminating point of his existence: Our real-phantasmagory of St. Edmundsbury plunges into the bosom of the Twelfth Century again, and all is over. (154.)

Chap. XVII. _The Beginnings._

Formulas the very skin and muscular tissue of a Man's Life: Living Formulas and dead. Habit the deepest law of human nature. A pathway through the pathless. Nationalities. Pulpy infancy, kneaded, baked into any form you choose: The Man of Business; the hard-handed Labourer; the genus Dandy. No Mortal out of the depths of Bedlam but lives by Formulas. (p. 157.)--The hosts and generations of brave men Oblivion has swallowed: Their crumbled dust, the soil our life-fruit grows on. Invention of Speech, Forms of Worship; Methods of Justice. This English Land, here and now, the summary of what was wise and noble, and accordant with God's Truth, in all the generations of English Men. The thing called 'Fame.' (161.)

## BOOK III--THE MODERN WORKER.

Chap. I. _Phenomena._

How men have 'forgotten God;' taken the Fact of this Universe as it _is not_, God's Laws become a Greatest-Happiness Principle, a Parliamentary Expediency. Man has lost the _soul_ out of him, and begins to find the want of it. (p. 171.)--The old Pope of Rome, with his stuffed dummy to do the kneeling for him. Few men that worship by the rotatory Calabash, do it in half so great, frank or effectual a way. (173.)--Our Aristocracy no longer able to _do_ its work, and not in the least conscious that it has any work to do. The Champion of England 'lifted into his saddle.' The Hatter in the Strand, mounting a huge lath-and-plaster Hat. Our noble ancestors have fashioned for us, in how many thousand senses, a 'life-road;' and we their sons are madly, literally enough, 'consuming the way.' (175.)

Chap. II. _Gospel of Mammonism._

Heaven and Hell, often as the words are on our tongue, got to be fabulous or semi-fabulous for most of us. The real 'Hell' of the English. Cash-payment, _not_ the sole or even chief relation of human beings. Practical Atheism, and its despicable fruits. (p. 181.)--One of Dr. Alison's melancholy facts: A poor Irish Widow, in the Lanes of Edinburgh, _proving_ her sisterhood. Until we get a human _soul_ within us, all things are _im_possible: Infatuated geese, with feathers and without. (185.)

Chap. III. _Gospel of Dilettantism._

Mammonism at least works, but 'Go gracefully idle in Mayfair,' what does or can that mean?--Impotent, insolent Donothingism in Practice and Saynothingism in Speech. No man now speaks a plain word: Insincere Speech the prime material of insincere Action. (p. 188.)--Moslem parable of Moses and the Dwellers by the Dead Sea: The Universe _become_ a Humbug to the Apes that thought it one. (190.)

Chap. IV. _Happy._

All work noble; and every noble crown a crown of thorns. Man's pitiful pretension to be what he calls 'happy.' His Greatest-Happiness Principle fast becoming a rather unhappy one. Byron's large audience. A philosophical Doctor: A disconsolate Meat-jack, gnarring and creaking with rust and work. (p. 192.)--The only 'happiness' a brave man ever troubled himself much about, the happiness to get his work done. (195.)

Chap. V. _The English._

With all thy theoretic platitudes, what a depth of practical sense in thee, great England! A dumb people, who can do great acts, but not describe them. The noble Warhorse, and the Dog of Knowledge: The freest utterances not by any means the best. (p. 197.)--The done Work, much more than the spoken Word, an epitome of the man. The Man of Practice, and the Man of Theory: Ineloquent Brindley. The English, of all Nations the stupidest in speech, the wisest in action: Sadness and seriousness: Unconsciously this great Universe is great to them. The silent Romans. John Bull's admirable insensibility to Logic. (198.)--All great Peoples conservative. Kind of Ready-Reckoner a Solecism in Eastcheap. Berserkir rage. Truth and Justice alone _capable_ of being 'conserved.' Bitter indignation engendered by the Corn-Laws in every just English heart. (203.)

Chap. VI. _Two Centuries._

The 'Settlement' of the year 1660 one of the mournfulest that ever took place in this land of ours. The true end of Government, to guide men in the way they should go: The true good of this life, the portal of infinite good in the life to come. Oliver Cromwell's body hung on the Tyburn gallows, the type of Puritanism found futile, inexecutable, execrable. The Spiritualism of England, for two godless centuries, utterly forgettable: Her practical material Work alone memorable. (p. 208.)--Bewildering obscurations and impediments: Valiant Sons of Toil enchanted, by the million, in their Poor-Law Bastille. Giant Labour yet to be King of this Earth. (211.)

Chap. VII. _Over-Production._

An idle Governing Class addressing its Workers with an indictment of 'Over-production.' Duty of justly apportioning the Wages of Work done. A game-preserving Aristocracy, guiltless of producing or apportioning anything. Owning the soil of England. (p. 213.)--The Working Aristocracy steeped in ignoble Mammonism: The Idle Aristocracy, with its yellow parchments and pretentious futilities. (216.)

Chap. VIII. _Unworking Aristocracy._

Our Land the _Mother_ of us all: No true Aristocracy but must possess the Land. Men talk of 'selling' Land: Whom it belongs to. Our much-consuming Aristocracy: By the law of their position bound to furnish guidance and governance. Mad and miserable Corn-Laws. (p. 218.)--The Working Aristocracy, and its terrible New-Work: The Idle Aristocracy, and its horoscope of despair. (222.)--A High Class without duties to do, like a tree planted on precipices. In a valiant suffering for others, not in a slothful making others suffer for us, did nobleness ever lie. The Pagan Hercules; the Czar of Russia. (223.)--Parchments, venerable and not venerable. Benedict the Jew, and his usuries. No Chapter on the Corn-Laws: The Corn-Laws too mad to have a Chapter. (225.)

Chap. IX. _Working Aristocracy._

Many things for the Working Aristocracy, in their extreme need, to consider. A National Existence supposed to depend on 'selling cheaper' than any other People. Let inventive men try to invent a little how cotton at its present cheapness could be somewhat justlier divided. Many 'impossibles' will have to become possible. (p. 228.)--Supply-and-demand: For what noble work was there ever yet any audible 'demand' in that poor sense? (232.)

Chap. X. _Plugson of Undershot._

Man's philosophies usually the 'supplement of his practice:' Symptoms of social death. Cash-Payment: The Plugson Ledger, and the Tablets of Heaven's Chancery, discrepant exceedingly. (p. 235.)--All human things do require to have an Ideal in them. How murderous Fighting became a 'glorious Chivalry.' Noble devout-hearted Chevaliers. Ignoble Bucaniers and Chactaw Indians: Howel Davies. Napoleon flung out, at last, to St. Helena; the latter end of him sternly compensating for the beginning. (237.)--The indomitable Plugson, as yet a Bucanier and Chactaw. William Conqueror and his Norman followers. Organisation of Labour: Courage, there are yet many brave men in England! (240.)

Chap. XI. _Labour._

A perennial nobleness and even sacredness in Work. Significance of the Potter's Wheel. Blessed is he who has found his Work; let him ask no other blessedness. (p. 244.)--A brave Sir Christopher, and his Paul's Cathedral: Every noble work at first 'impossible.' Columbus royalest Sea-king of all: A depth of Silence, deeper than the Sea; a Silence unsoundable; known to God only. (246.)

Chap. XII. _Reward._

Work is Worship: Labour, wide as the Earth, has its summit in Heaven. One monster there is in the world, the idle man. (p. 250.)--'Fair day's-wages for a fair days-work,' the most unrefusable demand. The 'wages' of every noble Work in Heaven, or else Nowhere: The brave man has to _give_ his Life away. He that works bodies forth the form of Things Unseen. Strange mystic affinity of Wisdom and Insanity: All Work, in its degree, a making of Madness sane. (253.)--Labour not a devil, even when encased in Mammonism: The unredeemed ugliness, a slothful People. The vulgarest Plugson of a Master-Worker, not a man to strangle by Corn-Laws and Shotbelts. (257.)

Chap. XIII. _Democracy._

Man must actually have his debts and earnings a little better paid by man. At no time was the lot of the dumb millions of toilers so entirely unbearable as now. Sisterhood, brotherhood often forgotten, but never before so expressly denied. Mungo Park and his poor Black Benefactress. (p. 260.)--Gurth, born thrall of Cedric the Saxon: Liberty a divine thing; but 'liberty to die by starvation' not so divine. Nature's Aristocracies. William Conqueror, a resident House-Surgeon provided by Nature for her beloved English People. (263.)--Democracy, the despair of finding Heroes to govern us, and contented putting-up with the want of them. The very Tailor unconsciously symbolising the reign of Equality. Wherever ranks do actually exist, strict division of costumes will also be enforced. (267.)--Freedom from oppression, an indispensable yet most insignificant portion of Human Liberty. A _best path_ does exist for every man; a thing which, here and now, it were of all things _wisest_ for him to do. Mock Superiors and Real Superiors. (269.)

Chap. XIV. _Sir Jabesh Windbag._

Oliver Cromwell, the remarkablest Governor we have had for the last five centuries or so: No volunteer in Public Life, but plainly a balloted soldier: The Government of England put into his hands. (p. 275.)--Windbag, weak in the faith of a God; strong only in the faith that Paragraphs and Plausibilities bring votes. Five years of popularity or unpopularity; and _after_ those five years, an Eternity. Oliver has to appear before the Most High Judge: Windbag, appealing to 'Posterity.' (276.)

Chap. XV. _Morrison again._

New Religions: This new stage of progress, proceeding 'to invent God,' a very strange one indeed. (p. 280.)--Religion, the Inner Light or Moral Conscience of a man's soul. Infinite difference between a Good man and a Bad. The great Soul of the World, just and not unjust: Faithful, unspoken, but not ineffectual 'prayer.' Penalties: The French Revolution, cruelest Portent that has risen into created Space these ten centuries. Man needs no 'New Religion;' nor is like to get it: Spiritual Dastardism, and sick folly. (281.)--One Liturgy which does remain forever unexceptionable, that of _Praying by Working_. Sauerteig on the symbolic influences of Washing. Chinese Pontiff-Emperor and his significant 'punctualities.' (287.)--Goethe and German Literature. The great event for the world, now as always, the arrival in it of a new Wise Man. Goethe's _Mason-Lodge_. (292.)

## BOOK IV.--HOROSCOPE.

Chap. I. _Aristocracies._

To predict the Future, to manage the Present, would not be so impossible, had not the Past been so sacrilegiously mishandled: A godless century, looking back to centuries that were godly. (p. 297.)--A new real Aristocracy and Priesthood. The noble Priest always a noble _Aristos_ to begin with, and something more to end with. Modern Preachers, and the _real_ Satanas that now is. Abbot-Samson and William-Conqueror times. The mission of a Land Aristocracy a _sacred_ one, in both senses of that old word. Truly a 'Splendour of God' did dwell in those old rude veracious ages. Old Anselm travelling to Rome, to appeal against King Rufus. Their quarrel at bottom a great quarrel. (299.)--The boundless Future, predestined, nay already extant though unseen. Our Epic, not _Arms and the Man_, but _Tools and the Man_; an infinitely wider kind of Epic. Important that our grand Reformation were begun. (308.)

Chap. II. _Bribery Committee._

Our theory, perfect purity of Tenpound Franchise; our practice, irremediable bribery. Bribery, indicative not only of length of purse, but of brazen dishonesty: Proposed improvements. A Parliament, starting with a lie in its mouth, promulgates strange horoscopes of itself. (p. 312.)--Respect paid to those worthy of no respect: Pandarus Dogdraught. The indigent discerning Freeman; and the kind of men he is called upon to vote for. (315.)

Chap. III. _The one Institution._

The 'Organisation of Labour,' if well understood, the Problem of the whole Future. Governments of various degrees of utility. Kilkenny Cats; Spinning-Dervishes; Parliamentary Eloquence. A Prime-Minister who would dare believe the heavenly omens. (p. 318.)--Who can despair of Governments, that passes a Soldier's Guard-house?--Incalculable what, by arranging, commanding and regimenting, can be made of men. Organisms enough in the dim huge Future; and 'United Services' quite other than the red-coat one. (321.)--Legislative interference between Workers and Master-Workers increasingly indispensable. Sanitary Reform: People's Parks: A right Education Bill, and effective Teaching Service. Free bridge for Emigrants: England's sure markets among her Colonies. London the _All-Saxon-Home_, rendezvous of all the 'Children of the Harz-Rock.' (326.)--The English essentially conservative: Always the invincible instinct to hold fast by the Old, to admit the _minimum_ of New. Yet new epochs do actually come; and with them new peremptory necessities. A certain Editor's stipulated work. (330.)

Chap. IV. _Captains of Industry._

Government can do much, but it can in nowise do all. Fall of Mammon: To be a noble Master among noble Workers, will again be the first ambition with some few. (p. 333.)--The leaders of Industry, virtually the Captains of the World: Doggeries and Chivalries. Isolation, the sum-total of wretchedness to man. All social growths in this world have required organising; and Work, the grandest of human interests, does now require it. (335.)

Chap V. _Permanence._

The 'tendency to persevere,' to persist in spite of hindrances, discouragements and 'impossibilities,' that which distinguishes the Species Man from the Genus Ape. Month-long contracts, and Exeter-Hall purblindness. A practical manufacturing Quaker's care for his workmen. (p. 341.)--Blessing of Permanent Contract: Permanence in all things, at the earliest possible moment, and to the latest possible. Vagrant Sam-Slicks. The wealth of a man the number of things he loves and blesses, which he is loved and blessed by. (344.) The Worker's _interest_ in the enterprise with which he is connected. How to reconcile Despotism with Freedom. (346.)

Chap. VI. _The Landed._

A man with fifty, with five hundred, with a thousand pounds a day, given him freely, without condition at all, might be a rather strong Worker: The sad reality, very ominous to look at. Will he awaken, be alive again; or is this death-fit very death?--Goethe's Duke of Weimar. Doom of Idleness. (p. 348.)--To sit idle aloft, like absurd Epicurus'-gods, a poor life for a man. Independence, 'lord of the lion-heart and eagle-eye:' Rejection of sham Superiors, the needful preparation for obedience to _real_ Superiors. (351.)

Chap. VII. _The Gifted._

Tumultuous anarchy calmed by noble effort into fruitful sovereignty. Mammon, like Fire, the usefulest of servants, if the frightfulest of masters. Souls to whom the omnipotent guinea is, on the whole, an impotent guinea: Not a May-game is this man's life, but a battle and stern pilgrimage: God's justice, human Nobleness, Veracity and Mercy, the essence of his very being. (p. 355.)--What a man of Genius is. The Highest 'Man of Genius.' Genius, the clearer presence of God Most High in a man. Of intrinsic Valetisms you cannot, with whole Parliaments to help you, make a Heroism. (359.)

Chap. VIII. _The Didactic._

One preacher who does preach with effect, and gradually persuade all persons. Repentant Captains of Industry: A Chactaw Fighter become a Christian Fighter (p. 361.)--Doomsday in the afternoon. The 'Christianity' that cannot get on without a minimum of Four-thousand-five-hundred, will give place to something better that can. Beautiful to see the brutish empire of Mammon cracking everywhere: A strange, chill, almost ghastly dayspring in Yankeeland itself. Here as there, Light is coming into the world. Whoso believes, let him begin to fulfil: 'Impossible,' where Truth and Mercy and the everlasting Voice of Nature order, can have no place in the brave man's dictionary. (364.)--Not on Ilion's or Latium's plains; on far other plains and places henceforth can noble deeds be done. The last Partridge of England shot and ended: Aristocracies with beards on their chins. O, it is great, and there is no other greatness: To make some nook of God's Creation a little fruitfuler; to make some human hearts a little wiser, manfuler, happier: It is work for a God! (365.)

INDEX.

Alison, Dr., 5, 185.

Anger, 114.

Anselm, travelling to Rome, 306.

Apes, Dead-Sea, 190, 270, 272.

Arab Poets, 107.

Aristocracy of Talent, 34; dreadfully difficult to attain, 37, 41, 299; our Phantasm-Aristocracy, 175, 215, 220, 242, 252, 270, 348, 364; duties of an Aristocracy, 213, 220, 240; Working Aristocracy, 216, 222, 335, 366; no true Aristocracy, but must possess the Land, 218, 304; Nature's Aristocracies, 264; a Virtual Aristocracy everywhere and everywhen, 300; the Feudal Aristocracy no imaginary one, 304, 338.

Army, the, 321.

Arrestment of the knaves and dastards, 43, 303.

Atheism, practical, 184, 192.

Battlefield, a, 238. See Fighting.

Becket, 297, 307.

Beginnings, 157.

Benefactresses, 262.

Benthamee Radicalism, 36.

Berserkir rage, 205.

Bible of Universal History, 298.

Blockheads, danger of, 111.

Bobus of Houndsditch, 38, 41, 363.

Bonaparte flung out to St. Helena, 239.

Books, 51.

Bribery, 312.

Brindley, 199.

Bucaniering, 239.

Burns, 42, 108, 254, 350.

Byron's life-weariness, 193, 356.

Cant, 76.

Canute, King, 60.

Cash-payment not the sole relation of human beings, 183, 235, 242; love of men cannot be bought with cash, 336.

Centuries, the, lineally related to each other, 51, 63.

Chactaw Indian, 238.

Champion of England, the, 'lifted into his saddle,' 176.

Chancery Law-Courts, 319, 322.

China, Pontiff-Emperor of, 290.

Chivalry of Labour, 237, 336, 341, 346, 355, 364.

Christianity, grave of, 174; the Christian Law of God found difficult and inconvenient, 208; the Christian Religion not accomplished by Prize-Essays, 233, 236, 251; or by a minimum of Four-thousand-five-hundred, 363. See New Testament.

Church, the English, 209, 322; Church Articles, 280; what a Church-Apparatus _might_ do, 301.

Coeur-de-Lion, 57, 131; King Richard, too, knew a man when he saw him, 144.

Colonies, England's sure markets among her, 329.

Columbus, royalest Sea-king of all, 248.

Competition and Devil take the hindmost, 229, 233; abatement of, 334.

Conscience, 137, 281.

Conservatism, noble and ignoble, 12, 15; John Bull a born Conservative, 203; Justice alone _capable_ of being 'conserved,' 205.

Corn-Laws, unimaginable arguments for the, 8, 30, 188, 203; bitter indignation in every just English heart, 206; ultimate basis of, 215; mischief and danger of, 220, 226, 258; after the Corn-Laws are ended, 231, 311, 318; what William Conqueror would have thought of them, 266.

Cromwell, and his terrible lifelong wrestle, 24; by far our remarkablest Governor, 275.

Crusades, the, 144.

Custom, reverence for, 203.

Dandy, the genus, 160.

Death, eternal, 286. See Life.

Debt, 113.

Democracy, 260; close of kin to Atheism, 267; walking the streets everywhere, 310.

Despotism reconciled with Freedom, 346.

Destiny, didactic, 45.

Dilettantism, 60, 146, 154, 212; gracefully idle in Mayfair, 188.

Dupes and Quacks, 33.

Duty, infinite nature of, 137, 145.

Economics, necessity of, 113.

Editor's, the purpose to himself full of hope, 46; his stipulated work, 331.

Edmund, St., 65; on the rim of the horizon, 136; opening the Shrine of, 148.

Edmundsbury, St., 60.

Education Service, an effective, possible, 328.

Election, the one important social act, 94; electoral winnowing-machines, 98, 106.

Emigration, 329.

England, full of wealth, yet dying of inanition, 3; the guidance of, not wise enough, 34, 335; England of the year '1200,' 57, 62, 79, 139, 303; disappearance of our English Forests, 122; this England, the practical summary of English Heroism, 165; now nearly eaten up by puffery and unfaithfulness, 180; real Hell of the English, 182; of all Nations, the stupidest in speech, the wisest in action, 197, 211; unspoken sadness, 200; conservatism, 203; Berserkir rage, 205; a Future, wide as the world, if we have heart and heroism for it, 330.

Essex, Henry Earl of, 134, 281.

Experience, 361.

Fact and Semblance, 17; and Fiction, 59.

Fame, the thing called, 161, 166. See Posterity.

Fighting, all, an ascertainment who has the right to rule over whom, 17, 302; murderous Fighting become a 'glorious Chivalry,' 237.

Flunkies, whom no Hero-King _can_ reign over, 43. See Valets.

Forests, disappearance of, 122.

Formulas, the very skin and muscular tissue of Man's Life, 157, 160.

Fornham, battle of, 65.

French Donothing Aristocracy, 223; the French Revolution a voice of God, though in wrath, 286, 337.

Funerals, Cockney, 155.

Future, the, already extant though unseen, 308; England's Future, 330. See Past.

Geese, with feathers and without, 187.

Genius, what meant by, 107, 359.

Gideon's fleece, 247.

Gifted, the, 355.

God, forgetting, 171; God's Justice, 238, 284; belief in God, 275; proceeding 'to invent God,' 281.

Goethe, 292, 350; his _Mason-Lodge_, 293.

Gossip preferable to pedantry, 63; seven centuries off, 92, 97.

Governing, art of, 110, 112; Lazy Governments, 319; every Government the symbol of its People, 333.

Great Man, a, 249. See Wisdom.

Gurth, born thrall of Cedric the Saxon, 263, 303, 310.

Habit, the deepest law of human nature, 158.

Hampden's coffin opened, 149.

Happy, pitiful pretensions to be, 192; happiness of getting one's work done, 195.

Hat, perambulating, seven-feet high, 177.

Healing Art, the, a sacred one, 5.

Heaven and Hell, our notions of, 181.

Heaven's Chancery, 236, 242.

Hell, real, of a man, 85; Hell of the English, 182, 334.

Henry II. choosing an Abbot, 99; his Welsh wars, 135; on his way to the Crusades, 144; our brave Plantagenet Henry, 302.

Henry VIII., 123.

Hercules, 225, 255.

Heroic Promised-Land, 45.

Hero-worship, 41, 70, 150, 153, 282, 305, 352; what Heroes have done for us, 165, 179.

History, Philosophical, 297, 298.

Horses, able and willing to work, 28; Goethe's thoughts about the Horse, 197.

Howel Davies, the Bucanier, 239.

Hugo, Abbot, old, feeble and improvident, 73; his death, 78; difficulties with Monk Samson, 90.

Ideal, the, in the Real, 73, 237.

Idleness alone without hope, 183; Idle Aristocracy, 216, 222, 252, 348.

Igdrasil, the Life-Tree, 47, 161, 309.

Ignorance, our Period of, 299.

Iliad, the, 163.

Impossible, 24, 28; without _soul_, all things impossible, 186; every noble work at first 'impossible,' 247, 255, 364.

Independence, 353.

Industry, Captains of, 240, 258, 335, 355, 362; our Industrial Ages, 309.

Infancy and Maturity, 159.

Injustice the one thing intolerable, 262.

Insanity, strange affinity of Wisdom and, 256.

Insurrections, 19.

Invention, 161.

Irish Widow, an, _proving_ her sisterhood, 186, 262.

Isolation the sum-total of wretchedness, 338.

Jew debts and creditors, 74, 113, 115; Benedict and the tooth-forceps, 225.

Jocelm of Brakelond, 51; his Boswellean Notebook seven centuries old, 52.

John, King, 57, 131.

Justice, the basis of all things, 12, 24, 138, 205; what is Justice, 17, 266; a just judge, 119; venerable Wigged-Justice began in Wild-Justice, 164; God's Justice alone strong, 238, 358. See Parchments.

Kilkenny Cats, 319.

King, the true and the sham, 103, 110, 273; the Ablest Man, the virtual King, 276; again _be_ a King, 310; the proper name of all Kings, Minister, Servant, 320.

'Know thyself,' 244.

Labour, to be King of this Earth, 212; Organisation of, 243, 260, 318; perennial nobleness and sacredness in, 244. See Chivalry, Work.

_Laissez-faire_, 229; general breakdown of, 232, 233.

Lakenheath eels, 81.

Landlords, past and present, 67; Landowning, 215; whom the Land belongs to, 218; the mission of a Land Aristocracy a _sacred_ one, 305, 348.

Laughter, 189.

Law, gradual growth of, 163; the Maker's Laws, 284. See Chancery.

Legislative interference, 326.

Liberty, true meaning of, 263, 269.

Life, the, to come, 208, 286; Life never a May-game for men, 261, 357.

Literature, noble and ignoble, 129.

Liturgies, 162.

Liverpool, 83.

Loadstar, a, in the eternal sky, 15.

Logical futilities, 199, 202.

Machinery, exporting, 228.

Mahomet, 351.

Mammon, not a god at all, 85; Gospel of Mammonism, 181, 236; Working Mammonism better than Idle Dilettantism, 183, 188, 257; getting itself strangled, 228; fall of Mammon, 334, 362; Mammon like Fire, 355. See Economics.

Man the Missionary of Order, 114, 285; sacredness of the human Body, 155; a born Soldier, 238; a God-created Soul, 285. See Great Man.

Manchester Insurrection, 19; poor Manchester operatives, 22, 62; Manchester in the twelfth century, 83; even sooty Manchester built on the infinite Abysses, 283.

Marriage-contracts, 342, 344.

Master, eye of the, 114.

Meat-jack, a disconsolate, 195.

Methodism, 76, 84, 146.

Midas, 3, 9.

Mights and Rights, 238.

Millocracy, our giant, 175.

Milton's 'wages,' 24.

Misery, all, the fruit of unwisdom, 34; strength, that has not yet found its way, 357.

Monks, ancient and modern, 55; the old monks not without secularity, 76, 84; insurrection of monks, 125.

Morality, 203.

Morrison's Pill, 29; men's 'Religion' a kind of, 282.

Moses and the Dwellers by the Dead-Sea, 190.

Mungo Park, 262.

National Misery the result of national misguidance, 34.

Nationality, 159.

Nature, not dead, but alive and miraculous, 36.

Negro Slavery and White Nomadism, 342.

New Testament, 236, 359.

Nobleness, meaning of, 224.

Obedience, 110.

Oblivion a still resting-place, 166.

Organising, what may be done by, 323, 336.

Originality, 162. See Path-making.

Over-production, charge of, 213, 253.

Pandarus Dogdraught, 305, 315.

Parchments, venerable and not venerable, 216, 225.

Parliament and the Courts of Westminster, 12, 319; a Parliament starting with a lie in its mouth, 314.

Past, Present and Future, 47, 298, 310, 331.

Path-making, 158.

Pedantry, 61.

Permanence the first condition of all fruitfulness, 341, 344.

Peterloo, 21.

Pilate, 17.

Pity, 70.

Plugson of Undershot, 235, 257.

Pope, the old, with stuffed devotional rump, 173.

Posterity, appealing to, 279. See Fame.

Potter's Wheel, significance of the, 245.

Practice, the Man of, 199.

Prayer, faithful unspoken, 284; praying _by working_, 288.

Premier, what a wise, might do, 321. See Windbag.

Priest, the noble, 300.

Puffery, all-deafening blast of, 177.

Puritanism, giving way to decent Formalism, 209.

Puseyism, 146, 364.

Quacks and sham-heroes, 33, 103, 177, 185, 277.

Quaker's, a manufacturing, care for his workmen, 343, 361.

Ready-Reckoner, strange state of our, 204.

Reform, like Charity, must begin at home, 43.

Religion, a great heaven-high Unquestionability, 76, 84, 145; our religion gone, 171; all true Work, Religion, 250; foolish craving for a 'New Religion,' 280, 287; inner light of a man's soul, 281. See Prayer, Worship.

Richard I. See Coeur-de-Lion.

Robert de Montfort, 136.

Rokewood, Mr., 55.

Roman Conquests, 201.

Rome, a tour to, in the twelfth century, 88.

Russians, the silent, worth something, 198, 201; the Czar of Russia, 225.

Saints and Sinners, 68.

Sam-Slicks, vagrant, 346.

Samson, Monk, teacher of the Novices, 77; his parentage, dream, and dedication to St. Edmund, 87; sent to Rome, 88; home-tribulations, 90; silence and weariness, 93; though a servant of servants, his words all tell, 97; elected Abbot, 102; arrival at St. Edmundsbury, 105; getting to work, 108, 112; his favour for fit men, 117; not unmindful of kindness, 118; a just clear-hearted man, 119; hospitality and stoicism, 121; troubles and triumphs, 124; in Parliament, 131; practical devotion, 139; Bishop of Ely outwitted, 141; King Richard withstood, 143; zealous interest in the Crusades, 144; a glimpse of the Body of St. Edmund, 149; the culminating point of his existence, 155.

Sanitary Reform, 326.

Satanas, the true, that now is, 302.

Sauerteig, on Nature, 35; our reverence for Death and for Life, 155; the real Hell of the English, 182; fashionable Wits, 189; symbolic influences of Washing, 289.

Saxon Heptarchy, 17.

Schnuespel, the distinguished Novelist, 70.

Scotch Covenanters, 278.

Scotland, destitution in, 5.

Scott, Sir W., on the Apennines, 345.

Selfishness, 36, 41.

Silence, invaluable talent of, 120, 201, 298; unsounded depth of, 249, 251; two Silences of Eternity, 283.

Sliding-Scales, 223, 231. See Corn-Laws.

Soldier, the, 321.

Sorrow, Worship of, 192.

Soul and conscience, need for some, 32, 98, 237, 287; to save the 'expense of salt,' 62; man has lost the _soul_ out of him, 172, 191.

Speech and jargon, difference between, 31; invention of articulate speech, 161; insincere speech, 189; the Speaking Man wandering terribly from the point, 301. See Silence.

Sphinx-riddle of Life, the, 10, 17; _our_ Sphinx-riddle, 22.

Spinning Dervishes, 319.

Sumptuary Laws, 269.

Supply-and-demand, 232.

Tailor-art, symbolism of the, 267.

Taxes, where to lay the new, 304.

Tears, beautifulest kind of, 70.

Teufelsdroeckh on Democracy, 267.

Theory, the Man of, 199.

Thersites, 352.

Thirty-nine Articles, 280.

Tools and the Man, 308, 310.

Unanimity in folly, 179.

Unconscious, the, the alone complete, 145.

Universe, general High Court of the, 13, 31, 225; a great unintelligible 'Perhaps,' 171; _become_ the Humbug it was thought to be, 190; a beggarly Universe, 234; the Universe made by Law, 284.

Unseen, the, 255.

Unwisdom, infallible fruits of, 39.

Vacuum, and the serene Blue, 234.

Valets and Heroes, 32, 103, 185, 273, 360; London valets dismissed annually to the streets, 342. See Flunkies.

Wages, fair day's, for fair day's work, 24, 253.

Wallace, Scotland's debt to, 16.

Washing, symbolic influences of, 289.

Wealth, true, 345, 362.

Weimar, Duke of, 350.

Willelmus Conquaestor; 83, 241; a man of most flashing discernment and strong lion-heart, 265; not a vulturous Fighter, but a valorous Governor, 302.

Willelmus Sacrista, 74, 86, 91, 101, 115.

William Rufus; 302, 306; the quarrel of Rufus and Anselm a great quarrel, 307.

Windbag, Sir Jabesh, 166, 275.

Wisdom, how, has to struggle with Folly, 91, 92, 97, 163, 264; the higher the Wisdom the closer its kindred with Insanity, 256; a _wisest path_ for every man, 271; the Wise and Brave properly but one class, 300, 303, 366; the life of the Gifted not a May-game, but a battle and stern pilgrimage, 357.

Wits, fashionable, 189.

Women, born worshippers, 70.

Work, world-wide accumulated, 164; endless hope in work, 183, 244; all work noble, 192; and eternal, 195; the work he has done, an epitome of the Man, 198, 246; Work is Worship, 250, 288; all Work a making of Madness sane, 256. See Labour.

Workhouses, in which no work can be done, 4.

Working Aristocracy, 216, 222, 335, 366; getting strangled, 228.

Workmen, English, unable to find work, 4, 23; intolerable lot, 261.

Worship, Forms of, 162; Scenic Theory of, 174; Apelike, 190; the truest, 250, 288. See Religion.

Worth, human, and Worthlessness, 103. See Pandarus.

Yankee Transcendentalists, 363.

END OF PAST AND PRESENT.

Transcriber's Notes:

There are many inconsistently hyphenated words. I have left them the way they were in the original scans.

The "w" letter in the Old English words is a wynn.