or the Irish movement of thirty years ago than towards the rioters for the Reform Bills of 1832 and 1867?  I think they did.  Vengeance upon external or Nationalist rebels is incited by racial antipathy.  But, on the other hand, the outside world is more ready to applaud a Nationalist rebellion, especially if it succeeds, and we feel a more romantic affection for William Tell or Garibaldi than for Oliver Cromwell or Danton; I suppose because it is easier to imagine the splendour of liberty when a subject race throws off a foreign yoke.

So the history of rebellion involves us in a mesh of contradictions.  Rebels have been generally regarded as deserving more terrible penalties than other criminals, yet all the world loves a rebel, at a distance.  Nationalist rebellions are crushed with even greater ferocity than the internal rebellions of a State, and yet the leaders of Nationalist rebellions are regarded by the common world with a special affection of hero-worship.  Obviously, we are here confronted with two different standards of conduct.  On one side is the standard of Government, the States and Law, which denounces the rebel, and especially the Nationalist rebel, as the worst of sinners; on the other side we have the standard of the individual, the soul and liberty, which loves a rebel, especially a Nationalist rebel, and denies that he is a sinner at all.

Let us leave the Nationalist rebel, whose justification is now almost universally admitted (except by the dominant Power), even if he is unsuccessful, and consider only the rebel inside the State—­the rebel against his own Leviathan—­whose position is far more dubious.  Job’s Leviathan appears to have been a more fearsome and powerful beast than the elephant, but in India the elephant is taken as the symbol of wisdom, and when an Indian boy goes in for a municipal examination, he prays to the elephant-god for assistance.  Now the ideal State of the elephant is the herd, and yet this herd of wisdom sometimes develops a rebel or “rogue” who seems to be striving after some fresh manner of existence and works terrible havoc among the elephantine conventions.  Usually the herd combines to kill him and there is an end of the matter.  Yet I sometimes think that the occasional and inexplicable appearance of the “rogue” at intervals during many thousand years may really have been the origin of that wisdom to which the Indians pray.

Similarly, mankind, which sometimes surpasses even the elephant in wisdom, has been continually torn between the idol of the Herd and the profanity of the rebel or Rogue, and it is perhaps through the rebel—­the variation, as Darwin would call him—­that man makes his advance.  The rebel is what distinguishes our States and cities from the beehives and ant-heaps to which they are commonly compared.  The progress of ants and bees appears to have been arrested.  They seem to have developed a completely socialised polity thousands of years ago,