NOTES 117 



world is made to be free and that the only things which 

 men have to consider are their rights. He has apparently 

 never heard the saying attributed to Mazzini, that we have no 

 rights but only duties 1 Yet this is the case ; and the Radical 

 makes the mistake of omitting the word duty from his vocabu- 

 lary altogether. On the other hand, our friend Colonel Hangit- 

 all quite agrees that we have duties, but thinks that all our 

 duties consist in keeping him in comfort. Mr. Suttonly Such 

 (who, by the way, is the son of the eminent Theophrastus) really 

 has much the same ideas, for he reads " right " to mean what 

 is to benefit him. Between the two of them poor old England 

 has had a big war foisted upon her, and has not found that it 

 is being conducted quite satisfactorily up to the present. 



Let it be clearly understood that we do not attach the 

 zoological analogy to Mr. Such simply because his opinions 

 may be wrong. This often happens, even to men of science. 

 The mere wrongness of opinion does not give the peculiar 

 qualities found in Sancho Panza's humble servant. To put the 

 matter mathematically, we may say that the coefficient of sweet 

 reasonableness (to use Matthew Arnold's adjective) is the ratio 

 of knowledge to conviction, and that this ought to be large in 

 every one, though perhaps not too large. The reciprocal of this 

 may be called the coefficient of asininity, which is the ratio of 

 conviction to knowledge ; and this is generally infinite in 

 both the types referred to. The only difference is that Colonel 

 Hangitall's coefficient is tacit, while that of Mr. Suttonly Such 

 is blatant. The negative quantity annuls the positive one, and 

 the result is that the consequent legislation is generally of zero 

 value for the public. 



The Song of the Ion 



In a never-ending pilgrimage 



From earth's airy rim to her centre, 

 I pass and repass from age to age — 



No door so narrow I cannot enter. 

 The midmost fires around me glow, 



A maelstrom of molten ores ; 

 Unharmed and unhurt I come and go 



Through their imperceptible pores ; 

 And I rise and I rise, till under the skies 



That are dark with the Arctic snows, 

 In the crypt of a cromlech of towering ice 



./Eon-long in a trance I repose. 



