These utterances show the combination of the old Puritanic leaven, to which all trifling and levity is hateful, and the strong patriotic sentiment, to which Dickens in one direction and the politics of Cobden and Bright in the other, appeared as different manifestations of a paltry and narrow indifference to all the great historic aims of the national life. Now, and to some degree always, he strongly sympathised with the patriotism represented by Macaulay.
I need only notice at present certain theological implications. The positivists were beginning to make themselves known, and, for various reasons, were anything but attractive to him. He denounces a manifesto from Mr. Congreve in January 1857, and again from the patriotic side. Mr. Congreve had suggested, among other things, the cession of Gibraltar to Spain, in accordance with his view of international duties. The English nation, exclaims Fitzjames, 'cannot be weighed and measured, and ticketed, and classified, by a narrow understanding and a cold heart.' The 'honest and noble passions of a single nation would blow all Mr. Congreve's schemes to atoms like so many cobwebs. England will never be argued out of Gibraltar except by the ultima ratio.' These doctrines, he thinks, are the fruits of abandoning a belief in theology. 'We, too, have a positive philosophy, and its fundamental maxim is that it is wise for men and nations to mind their own business, and do their own duty, and leave the results to God.' The argument seems to be rather questionable; and perhaps one which follows is not altogether satisfactory, though both are characteristic. The Indian Mutiny had moved him deeply, and, in an article called 'Deus Ultionum'[71] he applies one of his doctrines to this case. He holds that a desire for revenge upon the perpetrators of the atrocities (of which, I may observe, exaggerated accounts were then accepted) was perfectly legitimate. Revenge, he urges, is an essential part of the true theory of punishment—a position which he defends by the authority of Bishop Butler. The only alternative is the theory of simple 'deterrence,' which, as he holds, excludes every moral element of punishment, and supposes man to be a mere 'bag of appetites.'
I have dwelt upon these utterances, not, of course, to consider their value, or as representing his permanent conviction, but simply as illustrating a very deeply rooted sentiment.
His work in the 'Saturday Review' did not exhaust all his literary activity. Between 1856 and 1861 he contributed a few articles to the 'Edinburgh Review,' of which I have already mentioned one. He very naturally turned to the organ in which his father's best-known writings had appeared, and which still enjoyed a high reputation. I believe that the 'Edinburgh Review' still acted upon the precedent set by Jeffrey, according to which a contributor, especially, of course, a young contributor, was regarded as supplying raw material which might be rather arbitrarily altered by the editor. I express no opinion as to the wisdom of that course; but I think that, as a matter of fact, it alienated this contributor in particular. Meanwhile, the father in whose steps he was treading was constantly giving him advice or taking counsel with him during these years. He praised warmly, but with discrimination. The first article in the 'Edinburgh Review' was upon Cavallier, the leader of the Protestant revolt in the Cevennes. The subject, suggested, I fancy, by a trip to the country taken in 1852, was selected less with a view to his own knowledge or aptitudes than by the natural impulse of a young writer to follow the models accepted in his organ. He had selected a picturesque bit of history, capable of treatment after the manner of Macaulay. 'I have read it,' says my father, in words meant to be read to Fitzjames, 'with the pleasure which it always gives me to read his vigorous sense, clear and manly style, right-minded and substantially kind-hearted writings. My respect for his understanding has been for a long time steadily increasing, and is very unlikely to be ever diminished.... But I shall best prove that respect by saying plainly that I do not like this paper as well as those in which he writes argumentatively, speculatively, and from the resources of his own mind. His power consists in reasoning, in the exposition of truth and fallacies. I will not say, for I do not know, that he wants the art of story-telling, but, taking this as a specimen, it seems to me deficient in the great art of linking together a series of facts in such a manner that the connection between them shall be at once perceptible to the most ignorant and inattentive reader, and shall take easy and irresistible possession of the mind. That is Macaulay's pre-eminent gift.' He goes on to apply this in detail. It may be useful to point out faults now; though his criticisms upon anything which Fitzjames may publish in 1890 shall be 'all saccharine.'
In a letter of April 27, 1856, he shows an alarm which was certainly not unnatural. Fitzjames has been writing in the 'Saturday Review,' in 'Fraser,' the 'National Review,' and elsewhere, besides having on hand a projected law-book. Is he not undertaking too much? 'No variety of intemperance is more evidently doomed to work out its own ill-reward than that which is practised by a bookseller's drudge of the higher order.' He appeals to various precedents, such as Southey, whose brain gave way under the pressure. Editors and publishers soon find out the man who is dependent upon them for support, and 'since the abolition of West India slavery the world has known no more severe servitude than his.' 'Can a man of your age,' he asks, 'have the accumulated capital of knowledge necessary to stand such a periodical expenditure?' 'What I have read of your writing seems to me to be singularly unequal. At times it is excellent in style and in conception, and evidently flowing from springs pure, copious, and active, and giving promise of great future eminence. At other times the marks of haste, of exhaustion, and being run out of breath, are perceptible to an eye so sensitive as mine is on this subject. I see no reason why you should not become a great writer and one of the teachers of your country-folk, if you will resolve never to write except from a full mind—which is just as essential to literary success as it is to success in singing never to sing but out of well inflated lungs.' He ends by the practical application of an entreaty to make use of the family purse.
The reference to a law-book is explained by a correspondence which is going on at the same period in regard to various literary proposals. My father sketches several plans; he disapproves of a technical treatise, in which he thinks that Fitzjames would be at a disadvantage from the inevitable comparison with his uncle, the serjeant; but he advises some kind of legal history, resembling Hallam's history inverted. In the proposed book the legal aspect should be in the foreground and the political in the background. He expounds at length a scheme which has not been executed, and which would, I think, be exceedingly valuable. It was suggested by his own lectures on French history, though it must be 'six times longer and sixty times more exact and complete.' It is to be a history of the English administrative system from feudal times downwards, giving an account of the development of the machinery for justice, revenue, ecclesiastical affairs, war, trade, colonies, police, and so forth. Each chapter should expound the actual state of things, and trace the historical development of one department, and would involve a variety of parenthetical inquiries, which should be carefully subordinated to the main purpose. Various hints are given as to the course of investigation that will be necessary. Fitzjames began to work upon this scheme; and his opening chapters fill two or three large manuscript books. The plan was abandoned for one more suitable to his powers. Meanwhile, the literary activity which had alarmed his father was not abated, and, indeed, before very long, was increased.
IV. EDUCATION COMMISSION AND RECORDERSHIP
Another employment for a time gave him work, outside both of his professional and his literary career, though it remained something of a parenthesis. On June 30, 1858, a royal commission was appointed to investigate the state of popular education. The Duke of Newcastle was chairman and the other members were Sir J. T. Coleridge, W. C. Lake (afterwards Dean of Durham), Professor Goldwin Smith, Nassau Senior, Edward Miall, and the Rev. William Rogers, now rector of St. Botolph, Bishopsgate.[72] The Duke of Newcastle was, as I have said, the patron of the editor of the 'Saturday Review,' and perhaps had some interest in that adventure as in the 'Morning Chronicle.' He probably knew of my brother through this connection, and he now proposed him, says Mr. Rogers,[73] as secretary to the commission. The commission began by sending out assistant-commissioners to the selected districts: it afterwards examined a number of experts in educational matters; it sent Mark Pattison and Matthew Arnold to report upon the systems in Germany, France, and Switzerland; it examined all the previous reports presented to the Committee of the Privy Council; it collected a quantity of information from the various societies, from the managers of government, naval and military schools, from schools for paupers and vagrants, and from reformatories; it made an investigation into the state of the charitable endowments, and it compiled a number of statistical tables setting forth the results obtained. 'The man to whom more than to anyone else the country owed a debt of gratitude,' says Mr. Rogers, 'was Fitzjames Stephen.... Though under thirty, he brought to the task a combination of talents rarely found in any one individual. To his keen insight, wide grasp, accurately balanced judgment, and marvellous aptitude for details, was due much of the success with which we were able to lay down the future lines of popular education. I have often thought it strange that this recognition has not in time past been more publicly made.'
The Commission lasted till June 30, 1861. It published six fat volumes of reports, which are of great value to the historian of education. The progress made in subsequent years gives an appearance of backwardness to what was really a great advance upon previous opinion. The plan of compulsory or free education was summarily dismissed; and a minority of the Commission were of opinion that all State aid should be gradually withdrawn. The majority, however, decided that the system rather required development, although the aim was rather to stimulate voluntary effort than to substitute a State system. They thought that the actual number of children at school was not unsatisfactory, and that the desire for education was very widely spread. Many of the schools, however, were all but worthless, and the great aim should be to improve their quality and secure a satisfactory teaching of elementary subjects. They proposed that provision should be made for allowing the formation of boards supported by rates in towns and counties; and that the national grant should be distributed on better principles, so as to secure more efficient results. As Mr. Rogers points out, the 'revised code' soon afterwards issued by Mr. Lowe, and the principles adopted in Mr. Forster's Act a few years later, carried out, though they greatly extended, the proposals of the Commission.
It is impossible to say precisely what share my brother had in these results. I find, however, from a correspondence with his old friend Nassau Senior, that he was an advocate of the view finally adopted by the Commission. He also prepared the report, of course under the direction of his superiors, and the labour thrown upon him during the three years of this occupation must have been considerable. He was, however, writing with his old regularity for the 'Saturday Review,' and was attending sessions and circuits with slowly improving prospects. In a letter written at this time I find him remarking that he is at work all the day and half the night. This is in reference to a case with which he was much occupied during 1858-9, and which is characteristic enough to deserve a few words. His articles in the 'Saturday Review' show the keen interest to which he was aroused by any touch of heroism. He is enthusiastic about arctic adventure, and a warm review of Kane's narrative of the American expedition in search of Franklin brought him the friendship of the author, who died during a visit to England soon afterwards. Another arctic explorer was Captain Parker Snow, who sailed in the search expedition sent out by Lady Franklin in 1850. The place in which the remains were afterwards discovered had been revealed to him in a dream; and but for the refusal of his superior officer to proceed he would have reached the spot. In the year 1854 Captain Snow was sent out by the Patagonian Missionary Society to the place where the unfortunate Allen Gardiner had been starved to death. His crew consisted entirely of 'godly' sailors, who, he says, showed their principles by finding religious reasons for disobeying his orders. Finally Captain Snow was dismissed by an agent of the Society, and, as he maintained, illegally. He published an account of his explorations in Tierra del Fuego, which Fitzjames reviewed enthusiastically. It was long, he said, since he had seen a 'heartier, more genuine, nobler book'; he was tempted to think that Captain Marryat and Kingsley had 'put their heads together to produce a sort of missionary "Peter Simple."' This led to a long correspondence with Captain Snow, who was trying to enforce his claims against the Missionary Society. Fitzjames strongly advised him against legal proceedings, which would, he thought, be fruitless, although Captain Snow had a strong moral claim upon the Society. Captain Snow, however, was not easy to advise, and Fitzjames, thinking him ill-treated, obtained help from several friends and subscribed himself to the Captain's support. After long negotiations the case finally came into court in December 1859, when Fitzjames consented to appear as the Captain's counsel, although he had foreseen the unsuccessful result. He continued to do what he could for the sufferer, to whose honourable, though injudicious conduct he bears a strong testimony, and long afterwards (1879) obtained for him a pension of 40l. from the Civil List, which is, I fear, Captain Snow's only support in his old age.[74]