and make Church principles popular; and that they were popular we have his own declaration, that there had not been for many years one Papist, a native, in the island, nor indeed any Dissenters of any denomination, except a family or two of Quakers, unhappily perverted during the late civil war, and some of them had of late been baptized into the Church.' These spiritual masters,' confesses Waldron, speaking of the Manx clergy, are, in a manner idolized by the natives.' But he adds (we grieve to say) a statement which, as a cotemporary of Wilson's, and a resident in the island, he must have known to be untrue, that they 'yet take care to maintain their authority by keeping the laity in the most miserable ignorance.' For he must have known all that Wilson was doing to educate and enlighten, to establish schools, and found libraries. More truly does Miss Strickland describe him when she says that without taking any part in the furious discussions of the day, he bent all the energies of his saintly life to civilize and reclaim a miserable and neglected population by whom he was infinitely beloved.'

He impoverished himself by building churches. The convocations of his clergy were annual. He composed model prayers for his candidates for ordination, and entertained them for a year previous in his house. He only left his diocese twelve times during fifty-eight years. He rejected offers of translation made to him by Queen Anne and George I.

After all, does it not come to this, that the man who exercises the greatest influence, and produces the most lasting impression on the Church, is he who possesses in the largest measure, and can exhibit for the longest period, that which the Church most needs in her hierarchy-a holy and consistent life? Pascal died at thirty-nine, Gustavus Adolphus at thirty-eight, Falkland at thirtyfour. What was their life, indeed, with all its promise, but a vapour that appeareth for a little time?' But to 'endure unto the end' of fourscore years and ten; to persevere through an episcopate of eight-and-fifty years in the untiring service of one's Master; this, while it marks a triumph of Divine grace rarely accorded to the sons of men, must have produced an incalculably larger total of effective good to succeeding generations than it has fallen to the lot of most of our divines to accomplish.

There is something almost melancholy in the last years of the good Bishop. He, of course, long survived all his cotemporaries, and many of whom he was old enough to be the father. Sherlock had gone, and Hewetson, and Finch, the successor of Sherlock at Winwick, and Archbishop Sharp; and Walker, his tried friend and Vicar-General for seventeen years. And last, that rare woman of Christianity who so valued

and

and honoured him, of whom the portrait of Aspasia by Congreve in the Tattler' was taken for a living likeness; who baffled Sir Godfrey Kneller in his attempt to portray her beautiful features; whom Steele in another number of the 'Tattler' describes as 'the first of the beauteous order of love, whose unaffected freedom and conscious innocence gave her the attendance of the Graces in all her actions;' and to whom Robert Nelson applied the text, Many daughters have done virtuously but thou hast excelled them all '-The Lady Elizabeth Hastings, daughter of Theophilus seventh Earl of Huntingdon.All this was to be expected, or at all events was not remarkable. But he had also survived all his children except one. He had known only six years of married life,—his wife having been taken from him at the early age of thirty-one,-and he had never married again. Even his old servants were all gone or taken before him. Yet, even where this is the case, extreme old age is often enlivened, and is seldom so happy as when enlivened, by the merry faces and mirthful company of children to the third and fourth generation. This was not the case here. No grandchild ever prattled on those kind old knees. Alone, and among strange faces and almost untended, he looked his last on the world, and calmly awaited his change. But strong in the hope of immortality, to him more than perhaps to any of the sons of men might the aged apostle's assurance be without presumption applied, 'He had fought a good fight, he had finished his course, he had kept the faith: thenceforth there was laid up for him a crown of righteousness.'

And now, at last, what were the specks of imperfection which we have noticed but motes in a sunbeam, mere faults in the rich vein of ore. Of the grandeur and beauty of his character, so uncompromising, and yet so gentle; so firm and unyielding, and yet so full of charity; so tenacious of the dignity and authority of his position, and yet so humble and lowly in himself; of his extraordinary beneficence, his unwearied energy, his patient perseverance amidst almost overwhelming difficulties, and the most vexatious embarrassments-'what shall we more say'? If simplicity and pathetic earnestness and watchful sympathy with all men do yet in any degree characterize the teaching and devotion, especially the household devotion, of our clergy and laity; if veneration for the Universal Church and unreserved faith in the Bible do yet in any degree prevail in our popular theology; to him perhaps more than to any single divine of later days, with the single exception of his great cotemporary Bishop Butler, are these good effects owing.'

This seems to us no exaggerated panegyric. Whilst penning it, however, Mr. Keble was faithfully, though unconsciously, taking the likeness of another than Wilson, for what Wilson did in his day, has not Keble done in our own? If the Ecclesiastical history of the eighteenth century could ill have spared the one, neither would that of the nineteenth have been perfect without the other. Oxford has never been slow to recognize the claims of those whom she delights to honour; and she will not fail, we are persuaded, to rear within her a memorial worthy of him, whom she will ever regard as one of her brightest ornaments-over the fresh sods of whose lowly grave the summer winds are now for the first time sighing in the churchyard of beautiful Hursley.

ART. VII.-1. Up the Country. By the Honourable Emily Eden, 2 vols. London, 1866.

2. Euvres Completes d'Alexis de Tocqueville, tomes vii., viii. Paris, 1865.

OW far a nation which has worked out its own freedom is
fitted

HOW
Hotel to exercise despotic power over conquered nations;

how far the conquered nations can be admitted to the enjoyment of the constitutional privileges of the conquerors; whether the experiment, if wisely conducted, shall end in rendering the subject people capable of self-government, or by what errors of judgment the conquerors may be deprived of their ascendancy ; these are problems of great consequence to us all. Their importance was by none more clearly perceived than by M. de Tocqueville, and it is tantalising to learn from his biographer, M. de Beaumont, that he had undertaken to write on the settlement of the English in India; that he collected materials for such a work; nay, that it was in part written, but was never finished; and that M. de Beaumont considers himself prohibited by the injunctions of his deceased friend from publishing the fragments, valuable as they certainly would be. De Tocqueville's idea of writing on India had, in fact, been laid aside for some years, when the terrible calamity of the mutinies of 1857 renewed all his interest in that country; and by no one in Europe was the course of events followed with deeper sympathy, or the issue of the struggle more hopefully anticipated. The general accuracy of the opinions which we find scattered through his correspondence at this period shows how weighty would have been the warnings and counsels which such a master-mind would have conveyed.

We

We do not know how he would have regarded the moot points of Indian policy-whether, for instance, he would have sided with Mr. Kaye, in his trenchant attack on Lord Dalhousie's policy, or with Sir Charles Jackson's able and vigorous defence of it; how he would have regarded the imposition of the income tax, or the revenue settlement, which, with the example of Lord Cornwallis before us, we are so rashly carrying into effect in these days of depreciation of the currency.

But there is one point upon which even the imperfect and detached thoughts which are within our reach tell us clearly what was the opinion of De Tocqueville, and it is a point upon which Englishmen are by no means agreed-we mean the question as to whether her Indian possessions are a source of weakness or of power to England.

'Where I must be permitted no longer to concur with you,' wrote de Tocqueville to Lady Theresa Lewis, when the mutinies were at their height, is when you say that the loss of India would not weaken England, and that it is only out of heroic vanity that the English people is resolved to retain the government of that country. I have often known this opinion expressed by very enlightened Englishmen, and have never been able to share it.

It is very true that speaking of material wealth the government of India costs more than it returns, that it calls for efforts at a distance which may at certain moments paralyse the action of England in matters which touch it more nearly. I admit all this. Perhaps it would have been better to have hanged Clive than to have made him a peer. But I do not the less think that at the present day the loss of India would greatly lower the position of England among the nations of the earth. I could give many reasons for my opinion, but I will content myself with one. There has never been anything under the sun so extraordinary as the conquest, and above all, as the government of India by the English; nothing which more draws the eyes of men from all points of the earth to that little island of which the Greeks did not even know the name. Think you, Madam, that a people after having filled this immense space in the imagination of the human race can retire from it with impunity? For my part, I think not. I think that the English follow an instinct, not only heroic but wise, a feeling of true self-preservation, in wishing to retain India at all costs, since they possess it. I add, that I am perfectly certain that they will keep it, although, perhaps, under less favourable circumstances.'

Such was the opinion of this profound thinker, even in the midst of our greatest disasters, and on the supposition that India drained rather than contributed to the resources of England. Had his life been spared to the present time, had he been allowed

to

to resume his task, and to conclude his work, by a description of India restored to tranquillity, of the British Government more strongly established than before, and of the material and intellectual progress of the last seven years, under the careful and enlightened administration of Sir Charles Wood, how great would have been his surprise if he had still found that many of the well educated English are yet unaware how much India is contributing to the wealth and power of England, and how much the prosperity and safety of England are bound up with her gigantic Indian empire.

It is our purpose in the present article to bring into one view some of the principal facts by which the importance of India to England is demonstrated, and to endeavour to remove the impression which De Tocqueville had received, and which is still retained by perhaps the majority of Englishmen, that India is a drain on the resources of England. But, before doing so, it will be useful to consider how such different opinions on the subject of India come to be taken by the philosophic foreigner on the one side, and by practical Englishmen on the other: and we believe that this arises mainly from the fact that the minds of Englishmen are affected by a bias, from which the mind of De Tocqueville was free: we refer to the effect produced on the minds of Englishmen by the results of the American war, and to a habit of viewing India as a colony, and applying to India the results of our colonial experience.

The contest with our American colonies taught us two lessons : that it is useless to endeavour to hold in subjection a powerful people capable and desirous of self-government, and that a separated colony may contribute more largely to the wealth of the mother country than one held in reluctant subjection, Assertions that England's greatness depended on her maintaining her sway over her colonies, and predictions that by their independence the trade of England would be annihilated, were so entirely falsified by subsequent experience, that the public mind is now strongly prejudiced against anything which appears to be a repetition of our former errors. This feeling is now dictating our policy in regard to our colonies, and justly does so when the circumstances are similar and the analogy is complete. But before this reasoning is applied to India, it should carefully be considered whether there is really any analogy between the subjects of our conquests there and a people who have gone forth from among ourselves, and carried with them our habits of self-government. A conquered country and a colony are very different things. India and America bear little resemblance to each other.

The