another, you find yourself pitying the fellow as he narrates the hardships he endured in the Castle of S. Angelo. He is so symmetrical a rascal! Just hear him! listen to what he says well on in the second volume, after the little incidents already quoted :—

6

'Having at length recovered my strength and vigour, after I had composed myself and resumed my cheer'fulness of mind, I continued to read my Bible, and so 'accustomed my eyes to that darkness, that though I was at first able to read only an hour and a half, 'I could at length read three hours. I then reflected 'on the wonderful power of the Almighty upon the 'hearts of simple men, who had carried their enthu'siasm so far as to believe firmly that God would 'indulge them in all they wished for; and I promised 'myself the assistance of the Most High, as well 'through His mercy as on account of my innocence. 'Thus turning constantly to the Supreme Being, some'times in prayer, sometimes in silent meditation on the 'divine goodness, I was totally engrossed by these 'heavenly reflections, and came to take such delight in pious meditations that I no longer thought of past 'misfortunes. On the contrary, I was all day long 'singing psalms and many other compositions of mine, ' in which I celebrated and praised the Deity.'

Thus torn from their context, these passages may seem to apply the best possible falsification of the previous statement that Cellini told the truth about himself. Judged by these passages alone, he may appear a hypocrite of an unusually odious description. But it is only necessary to read his book to dispel that notion. He tells lies about other people; he repeats

long conversations, sounding his own praises, during which, as his own narrative shows, he was not present; he exaggerates his own exploits, his sufferings-even, it may be, his crimes; but when we lay down his book, we feel we are saying good-bye to a man whom we know.

He has introduced himself to us, and though doubtless we prefer saints to sinners, we may be forgiven for liking the company of a live rogue better than that of the lay-figures and empty clock-cases labelled with distinguished names, who are to be found doing duty for men in the works of our standard historians. What would we not give to know Julius Cæsar one half as well as we know this outrageous rascal? The saints of the earth, too, how shadowy they are! Which of them do we really know? Excepting one or two ancient and modern Quietists, there is hardly one amongst the whole number who being dead yet speaketh. Their memoirs far too often only reveal to us a hazy something, certainly not recognisable as a man. This is generally the fault of their editors, who, though men themselves, confine their editorial duties to going up and down the diaries and papers of the departed saint, and obliterating all human touches. This they do for the 'better prevention of scandals;' and one cannot deny that they attain their end, though they pay dearly for it.

I shall never forget the start I gave when, on reading some old book about India, I came across an afterdinner jest of Henry Martyn's. The thought of Henry Martyn laughing over the walnuts and the wine was almost, as Robert Browning's unknown painter says,

'too wildly dear;' and to this day I cannot help thinking that there must be a mistake somewhere.

To return to Cellini, and to conclude. On laying down his 'Memoirs,' let us be careful to recall our banished moral sense, and make peace with her, by passing a final judgment on this desperate sinner, which perhaps, after all, we cannot do better than by employing language of his own concerning a monk, a fellow-prisoner of his, who never, so far as appears, murdered anybody, but of whom Cellini none the less felt himself entitled to say:

'I admired his shining qualities, but his odious 'vices I freely censured and held in abhorrence.'

THE VIA MEDIA.

THE HE world is governed by logic. Truth as well as Providence is always on the side of the strongest battalions. An illogical opinion only requires rope enough to hang itself.

Middle men may often seem to be earning for themselves a place in Universal Biography, and middle positions frequently seem to afford the final solution of vexed questions; but this double delusion seldom outlives a generation. The world wearies of the men, for, attractive as their characters may be, they are for ever telling us, generally at great length, how it comes about that they stand just where they do, and we soon tire of explanations and forget apologists. The positions, too, once hailed with such acclaim, so eagerly recognized as the true refuges for poor mortals anxious to avoid being run over by fast-driving logicians, how untenable do they soon appear! how quickly do they grow antiquated! how completely they are forgotten!

The Via Media, alluring as is its direction, imposing as are its portals, is, after all, only what Londoners call a blind alley, leading nowhere.

'Ratiocination,' says one of the most eloquent and yet exact of modern writers, is the great principle of 'order in thinking it reduces a chaos into harmony, 'it catalogues the accumulations of knowledge; it 'maps out for us the relations of its separate depart'ments. It enables the independent intellects of many ' acting and re-acting on each other to bring their col'lective force to bear upon the same subject-matter. 'If language is an inestimable gift to man, the logical faculty prepares it for our use. Though it does not 'go so far as to ascertain truth; still, it teaches us the 'direction in which truth lies, and how propositions lie 'towards each other. Nor is it a slight benefit to know 'what is needed for the proof of a point, what is want'ing in a theory, how a theory hangs together, and 'what will follow if it be admitted.'

This great principle of order in thinking is what we are too apt to forget. Give us,' cry many, 'safety in 'our opinions, and let who will be logical. An Englishman's creed is compromise. His bête noire 'extravagance. We are not saved by syllogism.'

Possibly not; but yet there can be no safety in an illogical position, and one's chances of snug quarters in eternity cannot surely be bettered by believing at one and the same moment of time self-contradictory propositions.

But, talk as we may, for the bulk of mankind it will doubtless always remain true that a truth does not exclude its contradictory. Darwin and Moses are both right. Between the Gospel according to Matthew

* Dr. Newman in the 'Grammar of Assent.'