e seen how much goes to full humanization, to true
civilization, besides the power of social life and manners. There is the
power of conduct, the power of intellect and knowledge, the power of
beauty. The power of conduct is the greatest of all. And without in the
least wishing to preach, I must observe, as a mere matter of natural
fact and experience, that for the power of conduct France has never had
anything like the same sense which she has had for the power of social
life and manners. Michelet,[468] himself a Frenchman, gives us the
reason why the Reformation did not succeed in France. It did not
succeed, he says, because _la France ne voulait pas de reforme morale_--
moral reform France would not have; and the Reformation was above all a
moral movement. The sense in France for the power of conduct has not
greatly deepened, I think, since. The sense for the power of intellect
and knowledge has not been adequate either. The sense for beauty has not
been adequate. Intelligence and beauty have been, in general, but so far
reached, as they can be and are reached by men who, of the elements of
perfect humanization, lay thorough hold upon one only,--the power of
social intercourse and manners. I speak of France in general; she has
had, and she has, individuals who stand out and who form exceptions.
Well, then, if a nation laying no sufficient hold upon the powers of
beauty and knowledge, and a most failing and feeble hold upon the power
of conduct, comes to demoralization and intellectual stoppage and
fearful troubles, we need not be inordinately surprised. What we should
rather marvel at is the healing and bountiful operation of Nature,
whereby the laying firm hold on one real element in our humanization has
had for France results so beneficent.

And thus, when Sir Erskine May gets bewildered between France's equality
and fearful troubles on the one hand, and the civilization of France on
the other, let us suggest to him that perhaps he is bewildered by his
data because he combines them ill. France has not exemplary disaster and
ruin as the fruits of equality, and at the same time, and independently
of this, an exemplary civilization. She has a large measure of happiness
and success as the fruits of equality, and she has a very large measure
of dangers and troubles as the fruits of something else.

We have more to do, however, than to help Sir Erskine May out of his
scrape about France. We have to see whether the consid