were read and admired. Few writers were more popular than Carlyle,
Ruskin, and Matthew Arnold. But all three held aloof from the current of
public life which flowed in the traditional party channels. There was no
effort to revive the conception of the nation as the organised state to
which every citizen is bound, the source and centre of all men's duties.
Accordingly every man devoted himself to his own affairs, of which the
first was to make money and the second to enjoy life; those who were
rich enough finding their amusement in Parliament, which was regarded as
the most interesting club in London, and in its debates, of which the
charm, for those who take part in them, lies in the fact that for
success not knowledge of a subject, but fluency, readiness, and wit are
required.

The great events taking place in the world, the wars in Bohemia, in
France, and in Turkey, added a certain, interest to English life because
they furnished to the newspapers matter more exciting than any novelist
could produce, and in this way gratified the taste for sensation which
had been acquired both by rich and poor. That these events meant
anything in particular to the British nation was not likely to be
realised while that nation was, in fact, non-existent, and had resolved
itself into forty million individuals, each of them living for his own
ends, slightly enlarged to include his family, his literary or
scientific society, perhaps his cricket club, and on Sunday morning his
church or chapel. There was also a widespread interest in "politics," by
which was meant the particular fads cherished by one's own caucus to the
exclusion of the nation's affairs, it being more or less understood that
the army, the navy, and foreign policy were not to be made political
questions.

While forty million English people have thus been spending their lives