have the peasants a dominating voice. This is, at least, how the Zemstvos were constituted till 1890, when the would-be "Peasant Tsar" further reduced the number of peasant delegates.

It would seem that under such an organization the Zemstvos would soon become mere administrative boards, on which the country squires would find a number of well-paid positions. So it was indeed at the outset in some central provinces, where the landlords of the old school had the upper hand. But on the other hand there were also provinces, such as Tver (an old nest of "Decembrists"), Voronezh, Poltava, partly Ryazán, &c., in which the nobility, owing to various circumstances, took the lead of the reform movement. In these provinces, as also in the northeastern ones, in which the peasants dominate, the Zemstvos became an active force for introducing in the villages all sorts of useful institutions on a democratic basis. These two sorts of Zemstvos became the leaders of the others. This is why, notwithstanding all the obstacles opposed to them by the Central Government, the Zemstvos, as a rule, have accomplished some. thing. They have laid the foundation of a rational system of popular education. They have placed sanitation in the villages on a sound basis, and worked out the system which answers best the purpose of free medical help for the peasants and the laboring classes. They elected Justices of Peace who were decidedly popular. And some of the Zemstvos are doing good work by spreading in the villages better methods of agriculture, by the supply of improved machinery at cost price, by spreading cooperative workshops and creameries, by mutual in

• Taking a district of North-Eastern Russia where, owing to the small number of nobles, the first two "orders" vote together, we have three functionaries of the Crown sitting by

surance, by introducing school gardens, and so on. All this, of course, within the narrow limits imposed by the present economical conditions, but capable, like similar beginnings in Western Europe, of a considerable extension.

Another important feature is that the Zemstvos draw into their service a considerable number of excellent men, truly devoted to the people, who in their turn exercise a decided influence upon the whole of the Zemstvo institution. Here is a country district in North-Western Russia. Its district assembly consists of twenty noblemen elected by the nobility, one deputy from the clergy (nominated by the Church), one functionary of the Crown (who sits by right), five deputies elected by the second "order" of mixed landowners (merchants, peasant proprietors, &c.), and nine peasants from the third "order," representing the village communities. R

They decide, let us say, to open a number of village schools. But the salaries of the teachers are low, the schoolmasters' houses are poor log-huts, and the assembly people know that nobody but a "populist," who loves the people and looks upon his work as upon his mission, will come and stay. And so the "popu list" comes in as a teacher. But it is the same with the Zemstvo doctor, who is bound to attend to a number of villages. He has to perform an incredible amount of work, travelling all the year round, every day, from village to village, over impassable roads, amidst a poverty which continually brings him to despair-read only Tchékoff's novels! And, therefore, nobody but a "populist" will stay. And it is the same with the midwife, the doctor's aid, the agricultural inspector. the co-operator, and so on. And when right, twelve members elected by the first two orders (three nobles, the remainder are merchants, &c.), and seven peasants representing the village communities.

several Zemstvos undertook, with their limited budgets, to make house-tohouse statistical inquests in the villages, whom could they find but devoted "populists" to carry on the work and to build up that wonderful monument, the 450 volumes of the Zemstvo inquests? Read Ertel's admirable novel, Changing Guards, and you will understand the force which these teachers, doctors, statisticians, &c., represent in a province.

The more the Zemstvos develop their activity, the more this "third element" grows; and now it is they-the men and women on the spot, who toil during the snowstorm and amidst a typhus-stricken population-who speak for the people and make the Zemstvo speak and act for it. A new Russia has grown in this way. And this Russia hates autocracy, and makes the Zemstvos hate it with a greater hatred than any which would have sprung from theories borrowed from the West. At every step every honest man of the Zemstvo finds the bureaucracy-dishonest, ignorant, and arrogant-standing in his way. And if these men shout, "Down with autocracy!" it is because they know by experience that autocracy is incompatible with real progress.

These are, then, the various elements which are arraigned in Russia against the old institutions. Will autocracy yield, and make substantial concessions -in time, because time plays an immense part under such conditions? This we do not know. But that they never will be able any more to stop the movement, this is certain. It is said that they think at the Winter Palace to pass a few measures in favor of the peasants, but to avoid making any constitutional concessions. However, this will not help. Any improvement in the condition of the peasants will be welcome. But if they think that therefore they will be able to limit

measure

their concessions to the invitation of a few representatives of the provinces to the Council of State, where they may take part in its deliberations, this is a gross mistake. Such a might have pacified the minds of 1881, if Alexander the Third had honestly fulfilled the last will of his father. It might have had, perhaps, some slight effect ten years ago, if Nicholas the Second had listened then to the demand of the Zemstvos. But now this will do no longer. The energy of the forces set in motion is too great to be satisfied with such a trifling result. And if they do not make concessions very soon, the Court party may easily learn the lesson which Louis Philippe learned in the last days of February 1848. In those days the situation at Paris changed every twenty-four hours, and therefore the concessions made by the Ministry always came too late. Each time they answered no longer to the new requirements.

In all the recent discussions nothing has yet been said about the terrible economical conditions of the peasants and the working men in the factories. All the resolutions were limited to a demand of political rights, and thus they seem to imply that the leading idea of the agitation was to obtain, first, political rights, and to leave the discussion of the economical questions to the future representative Government. If this were so, I should see in such a one-sidedness the weak point of the agitation. However, we have already in the resolutions of the committees on the Impoverishment of Central Russia a wide programme of changes, required by the peasants themselves, and it would be of the greatest importance to circulate this programme at once in the villages.

It is quite certain that every Russian -even the poorest of the peasants-is interested in the destruction of the secular political yoke to which all Rus

sia is harnessed. But the destruction of that yoke, if it has to be done in reality, and not on paper only, is an immense work, which cannot be accomplished unless all classes of society, and especially the toiling classes, join in it. Autocracy has its outgrowths in every village. It is even probable that no progress in the overthrow of that institution will be made so long as the peasant masses do not bring their insurrections to bear upon the decisions of the present rulers. They must be told, therefore, frankly and openly by The Nineteenth Century and After.

the educated classes, what the intentions of the latter are concerning the great problem which is now at this very moment facing millions of Russian peasants: "How to live till the next crop?" Let us hope, therefore, that those who have started the present agitation with so much energy will also see that they must tell the ninety million Russian peasants the improvements in the economical conditions of the toiling masses which they can expect under the new régime, in addition to the acquisition of political rights. P. Kropotkin.

There is sound sense in one of the rules laid down by the Sacred College that no member of the Catholic Church, however saintly their lives may have been, however venerable their reputation may be at the time of their death, can be canonized till half-acentury at least has come and gone since they joined the majority. I have often wished that a similar unwritten law could be enforced with respect to biographies. Nowadays, and especially in our own country, no man who has made any mark in his day is considered by his friends or relatives to have received due recognition of his services unless a bulky biography is published containing full and appreciative records of his private life and his public career. In the case of men of eminence, such as Mr. Gladstone, who have taken a leading share in politics an exception may fairly be made. After all, they are part and parcel of their country's history, and memoirs written by contemporaries, and published while their memory was still green, may be useful for historians of a future day, whose duty it will be to narrate the true story of our time.

I confess, however, that, in my opinion, biographies of men of mark in science, literature, or art had better, with very rare exception, be left unwritten till the judgment of posterity has confirmed the estimate placed on them by their contemporaries. Their works survive them; and by these works they must in the end be judged. Of late years, however, hardly a week passes without the issue of some elaborate biography narrating the sayings and doings of minor politicians, public officials, men of letters, clerics, and artists who doubtless played creditable parts in their respective careers, but who are never likely to be known, even by name, when their own genera tion has been gathered to its fathers.

In the category of biographies that, as I hold, might have well been left unwritten I should include the memoir of Sir Arthur Sullivan whose author is Mr. Findon. I find no fault with the biography as it stands, except that it contains certain strictures on third parties which might give unnecessary pain should they be regarded as representing the personal opinions of Sir Arthur. I agree in as far as I am

competent to do so-with the views expressed by Mr. Findon as to Sullivan's high musical attainments, and I believe the recital of the meagre incidents of Sullivan's public career is substantially correct. My objection to the memoir is that it fails to make its readers acquainted with the man as he was known to those who knew him otherwise than by repute. I attribute this failure not so much to any deficiency on the part of Mr. Findon as to the inherent difficulties of the task. When all is said and done, there is little to be written about the life of Arthur Sullivan, as known to the outer world, except in connection with his career as a musician and a composer. No educated man can be more hopelessly ignorant of the art of music than I am myself, but from my literary and journalistic experience I have learnt thus much: that it is the rarest thing in the newspaper world to find a mustcal critic who can write about musical subjects in such a way as to make his criticisms interesting or even intelligible to the non-musical public. I am not cognizant-though on this, as in all matters connected with music, 1 speak with the greatest hesitation-of any biography of a celebrated British musician which has enrolled itself amidst the standard classics of British literature. Whether this is due to the fault of the biographers, of the subject matter of the biographies, or of the reading public, is a question I am incompetent to answer. Be the cause what it may, there can, I think, be no doubt as to the fact.

These remarks pretty well exhaust all I have to say on the Life of Sir Arthur Sullivan which has recently been published. What I have to say further applies to Sullivan rather as a man than as a musician. The first time I made his acquaintance was, curiously enough, in connection with musical criticism. Some thirty odd 1366

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VOL. XXVI.

years ago, I had undertaken the editorship of the Observer newspaper, which at that period stood in sore need of reorganization. In those bygone days, I remember my old friend E. L. Blanchard remarking to me "that the one faculty required for dramatic and musical criticism was a copious repertory of complimentary adjectives." Unmindful of this advice, I thought the public might appreciate a more independent tone of musical criticism than was then in vogue. There being a vacancy in the post of musical critic of the Observer, I called on Arthur Sullivan, to ascertain whether he was disposed to write the musical criticisms for the Observer. He accepted the proposal subject to the understanding that either of us remained at liberty to terminate the engagement if for any reason it should, prove unsatisfactory. Shortly afterwards a new opera by an almost unknown but not impecunious composer was brought out in London, and on the following Sunday Sullivan's notice appeared in our columns. I was personally much struck with the article. The style was as clear as the handwriting—and to those who knew Sullivan's writing at this period of his life that is saying a good deal. I have forgotten, or do not trouble myself to recall, the names of the opera and its composer. All I care to remember is that the criticism was distinctly unfavorable, and formed a marked contrast to the wishy-washy eulogistic notices which appeared in most of our contemporaries, and in consequence it attracted a certain amount of attention. Within a few days of its appearance I received intimations to the effect that this style of criticism was viewed with disfavor in the quarters whence musical advertisements were issued, and that the continuance of such criticisms would involve the withdrawal of the musical advertisements. I had to consider other people's interests as well as

my own, and I came at once to the conclusion that to put the matter plainly-the game was not worth the candle. It was, as I held, no part of my duty as an editor to elevate the tone of musical criticism, and I entertained grave doubts as to whether there was a sufficient public interested in musical notices to increase our circulation to such an extent as would have compensated us for the money loss accruing from the withdrawal of operatic and concert advertisements. I had therefore no option except to discharge the somewhat unpleasant task of informing Sullivan that I had determined to discontinue his notices. Nothing could be more charming than the way in which he received my communication. He assured me that he appreciated fully the reasons of my action, and added that he had already entertained doubts as to whether it was prudent for him, as a musician himself, to criticise in print members of his own profession. We parted on the friendliest terms. The article in question was, to the best of my belief, the one and only musical criticism which Sullivan ever contributed to the Press, and I can say with even greater certainty that it was the one and only attempt ever made by me to improve the status of British music as an art. This incident-which with another man might easily have led to a permanent estrangement-formed the commencement of a lifelong friendship. I learnt from it how singularly free Sullivan was from the personal vanity which is often said to be inseparable from the artistic nature. I realized how fair-minded and how sensible he was in business matters. I discerned the sweetness of temper, the kindliness of heart, and the affectionate disposition which rendered him so charming a companion, so true a friend.

My intimate acquaintance with Sullivan was, however, brought about by

our having a common friend in the person of Frederick Clay, the son of James Clay, then M.P. for Hull. Memories are so short-lived in the world in which we both passed many years of our lives that I am afraid to many of my readers the name of Fred Clay will be well-nigh unknown. At the period of which I speak, he was a clerk in the Treasury, and acting as private secretary to George Glyn, the Whip of Mr. Gladstone's first Administration, who, later on, succeeded his brother as Lord Wolverton. Clay was, I have reason to know, a most efficient secretary, and would in all likelihood have risen very high in the public service if he had not insisted on resigning his clerkship upon his father's death. Fortunately or unfortunately, as one may choose to think, he had-or believed he had-sufficient means to live in comfort without his official salary, and was anxious to devote himself to the study of music, to which he was passionately attached. He had before this published a number of songs, some of which had attracted considerable notice. I have often heard Sullivan express an opinion that Fred Clay had higher musical talent than he him. self possessed, and might have been a great musician if he had ever devoted himself seriously to the study of the art. Sullivan was singularly free from any professional jealousies, and was perhaps inclined to overestimate the talents of his friends. However this may be, Clay applied himself to music too late to make any real progress, and soon involved himself in pursuits fatal to serious study of any kind. The story of a wasted life is one sad to read, sadder still to tell. After many losses and disappointments, borne with imperturbable cheeriness, the tide seemed to have turned for a moment in Fred Clay's favor. He had been commissioned to write the music for a spectacular piece brought out at the