gether the Senate of the Septinsular Commonwealth at Corfu, and he explained to them the task which he had set out to accomplish if he could. At Corfu, and during all his public addresses in the Greek islands and the mainland, he spoke in Italian, which the commanding foreign language once you leave Trieste on the way to the Levant. Mr. Gladstone did not attempt to speak in modern Greek. He could read modern Greek with perfect fluency, and has been heard to complain that he found some difficulty only when Greeks would write to him in a very bad hand and in "cursive Greek." But the hopeless incompatibility between the pronunciation of Greek taught at Oxford and the Greek spoken in Corfu or in Athens would have rendered it impossible for him to make himself effectively understood if he attempted to address in Greek a modern Greek audience. Every one who has been in Greece, and who knows anything at all of classic Greek, must have found that, while it easy enough to make out the meaning of a leading article in an Athenian newspaper, it is hardly possible to make one's self understood by or to understand the courteous Greek to whom one puts a question in the streets. I have

been told that the effect of Mr. Gladstone's discourses in Italian was something superb and electrifying. He told the Senate of the Ionian Islands at Corfu that the liberties guaranteed to the islanders by the treaties of Paris and by the Ionian law were absolutely sacred in the eyes of the Queen of England. But, he said, on the other hand, "the purpose for which the Queen has sent me here is not to inquire into the British Protectorate, but to examine into what way Great Britain may most honorably and amply discharge the obligations which, for purposes European and Ionian rather than British, she has contracted." Then he made an official visit to all the islands, receiving deputations and delivering replies. He undertook that a full inquiry should be made into every complaint or grievance, and that a thorough system of constitutional government should be established in the islands. I have said, however, the Ionians had one uncompromising grievance-the grievance that they were kept from a thorough union with the Kingdom of Greece. The Legislative Assembly of the Seven Islands voted unanimously an address to the Queen, praying that they might be allowed to annex themselves to the Greeks of the mainland. Mr. Gladstone's visit was, in

As

As

sovereign. A great deal of anger was expressed, of course, in some of the Tory newspapers, and Lord John Russell's action was denounced as though he had hauled down the flag of England from one of the Empire's most ancient and cherished possessions in cowardly deference to the demand of some great foreign power. I have already pointed out, England had never conquered the Ionian Islands, had never annexed them, had never set up any claim whatever to their ownership, and had merely accepted, out of motives of public policy, the uncomfortable and troublesome charge which had been imposed upon her by the other great States of Europe. Some years passed between Mr. Gladstone's visit and the cession of the Ionian Islands to the Greek Kingdom, but the one event was a direct consequence of the other. But for Mr. Gladstone's visit the Liberal Government and the English people generally would never have known how resolute, how passionate, how unconquerable was the desire of the Ionian Islanders to be in union with the people of the Kingdom of Greece. The objectlesson which, as I remarked before, is always needed in political affairs was supplied by the reports and descriptions of Mr. Gladstone's progress through the seven islands. Not one Englishman in fifty thousand cared before that visit three straws about the condition or the feelings of the Ionian Islands. The ordinary Englishman hardly knew who the islanders were, or where they lived, or what was the matter with them. He saw now and then in his daily paper some brief announcement that the Lord High Commissioner had dissolved another Parliament at Corfu. The announcement did not affect him with any manner of interest. Very likely he did not know where Corfu was, and in case he did, would not have cared. But the condition of things became very different when one of the foremost English statesmen, perhaps the most picturesque state sman of his time, was sent out to inquire into the alleged grievances of the Ionian Islanders, and when the papers every day began to contain long descriptions of his movements and full reports of all the addresses delivered to him and all the replies which he returned. Then the minds of

MR. GEORGE WILLIAM ERSKINE RUSSELL, M.P.

Nephew of the late Earl Russell (see preceding page). Mr. Russell has represented Aylesbury and North Beds in Parliament, and has occupied various Government positions. He is the author of a capital "Life of the Rt. Hon. W. E. Gladstone" in the series of " The Queen's Prime Ministers "

Lord John Russell. With a large number of that public the mere sentimental consideration that the brother of the Princess of Wales was to be the new King of the Hellenes settled the matter altogether. The vast majority, therefore, of the English people entirely approved the withdrawal of the British Protectorate, and the annexation of the islands to the Greek Kingdom.

[To be continued in the Magazine Number for June]

E

VERY one can say, with St. Paul, There are two men in me; and with greater reason can every city say, There are two cities in me.

It is vexing not to be known save by one's unpleasant aspects. Unhappily, they are often the most apparent. As there are those who do wrong in judging men only by their noisy and turbulent exhibitions -where only a secondary side of human nature appears so also is it with certain cities. The world knows them rather by the accidents and excrescences of their surface than by their inner fibers. It is thus that the great cities make upon the imagination the impression of monsters, in that evil has reclothed itself in superhuman proportions. Many such cities have a detestable reputation; Paris perhaps more than others. Many naturally compare it to that Babylon which steeped all nations with the wine of its impurity. To many strangers "Paris" is a soiled name, and recalls only an unclean literature, a licentious theater, financial scandals, and all sorts of waywardness.

Such a reputation, which our compatriots as well as our enemies contribute to keep up, is as unmerited as it is regrettable. I will not deny the evil that is with us, nor essay the criticism that the worst things in Paris-such as literature and customs are articles of export, which strangers encourage by buying. To throw the evil on others has always been a poor proceeding, and I confess, unhesitatingly, Yes, alas! all the evil which is alleged of us has foundation in fact. But the evil is not all of our life. Alongside luxurious, gaming, bantering, décadent Paris, there is another Paris which one forgets; not the scientific, artistic, industrial Paris, lawgiving throughout the world, but the Paris of great sympathies, of sublime compassion, of works of mercy, and of many virtues hidden in the shade.

It is of this unknown Paris that I will speak. I do not say that I will exhibit it all. God alone could do that. alone knows the obscure good which the

He

noise of this immense city covers. I will simply tell of the little which I have been able to discover, and this little I will lay as a pious homage before a city which I love, and before Truth, which is to me still dearer.

In our great cities the being that suffers most is the infant. Upon it falls all the weight of factitious and abnormal life. To be convinced of this we have only to read the statistics of mortality, chiefly during the months of great heat. Then only do we comprehend with what frightful hecatombs man pays for his errors, when he arranges for an existence from which are banished pure air, light, cool shade, fresh water, and so many other treasures which Nature gives freely to the poorest; treasures of which, in great human agglomerations, the rich are often deprived.

The misery of infancy has found thousands of hearts in Paris to pity and to help. Without doubt all that has been undertaken is yet too little. One must change customs and habits, one must arrest the foolish torrent of emigration from the country to the town; in a word, accomplish the impossible. But man is not responsible for what is beyond his strength; we should ask him to attempt only that which he can do. In this, Paris has certainly achieved great things. All these people, so busy or frivolous on the outside, hide a maternal tenderness. Very many are the crèches (day nurseries) and dispensaries, public and private, religious and lay; many are the "maternal schools," of which several do duty even for the infants of foreign nomads, who live all the year in their vagrant hidingplaces. At midday in all these public schools soup is given to the poor children.

Many persons use their Thursdays and Sundays in bringing together some poor little ones whom no one else would care for, and in giving them a turn in the public gardens. Sometimes the children get a bath; their clothes are mended, or, what is better, they are taught how to