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opinion has subsequently been endorsed by Lord Northbrook, that if it were a question between imposing new and irritating taxes in India, such as the income-tax, 'danger for danger, he (Lord Canning) would prefer to reduce the army.' It is well known that an equally strong opinion as to the peril of adding to the taxation of India was expressed by Lord Mayo, a Viceroy who was alike distinguished for prudence, courage, and common sense. He had the sagacity to see that taxation in India could not be regarded as simply a financial question, but that it involved political consequences of the gravest moment. In a passage which has been often quoted, he said that it was almost impossible to exaggerate the discontent which was produced among all classes in India, both European and native, by the 'constant increase of taxation which had for years been going on.' Deaf to these warnings, instead of anything effectual having been done to arrest the growth of taxation, the financial position of India now is far more unsatisfactory than it was in Lord Mayo's time. Not only has there been an increase of Imperial taxation-new and irritating taxes, such as the license tax, have been imposed-but in recent years the country has been enveloped in a network of local taxation. Lord Northbrook last August, in presenting an important petition from India in the House of Lords, endorsed the statement that within the last seven years, in Bengal alone, there has been an increase of about a million, and for the whole of India more than three millions, per annum by provincial taxation.'
When such opinions as these have been expressed by those who must be regarded as the very highest authorities on all questions affecting the government of India, it is not too much to say that the very existence of our rule in India may be gravely imperilled unless the finances of that country are placed in a more satisfactory position. The English people should awaken to the fact that the question is one which vitally concerns themselves as well as the people of India. There is scarcely any event which would bring greater discredit and greater misfortune on England than for the Indian Government to be forced to say: Our financial exigencies are such that it is impossible to pay our way without coming to England for pecuniary aid.' A burden might thus be cast upon English taxpayers which they would find hard to bear, and the consequences to India would be still more disastrous; for from the hour in which she was obliged to seek subventions from England, her virtual insolvency would be proclaimed. Before it is too late, England should resolve that such a contingency should be averted. Hitherto, it has unfortunately too frequently happened that the influence of England has been exerted not to save, but to spend, the money of the Indian people. The well-known saying of one who held a high official position is only too true, that 'Indian finance has again and again been sacrificed to the exigencies of English estimates.' No one can reason
ably desire that the English Parliament should perpetually meddle in the details of Indian administration. It should, however, never be forgotten that when the East India Company was abolished, the English people became directly responsible for the government of India. It cannot, I think, be denied that this responsibility has been so imperfectly discharged, that in many respects the new system of government compares unfavourably with the old. Figures have already been quoted to show to what a remarkable extent the cost of administration has increased since the East India Company was abolished. There was at that time an independent control of expenditure which now seems to be almost entirely wanting. It was, no doubt, intended, when the government of India by the Act of 1858 was transferred from the Company to the Crown, that the Council of the Secretary of State should exercise the same control over Indian expenditure, as had formerly been exercised by the directors of the Company and by the Court of Proprietors. But gradually the influence and control of the Council have been so completely whittled away that it is now openly declared by a Secretary of State that he can spend the revenues of India, beyond her frontiers, without obtaining the consent, or even bringing the subject under the notice, of his Council. Whether or not the power thus claimed is really conferred upon him by the Act of 1858, and by Acts which have subsequently been passed, raises questions which I cannot attempt to enter upon here. The whole subject, however, of the inadequacy of the control now exercised on the expenditure of the revenues of India, is one that urgently demands the most careful investigation. Nothing can be more unsatisfactory than the present state of things. When the Secretary of State desires to avoid responsibility, he can shelter himself behind his Council; when he desires to act, untrammelled by their control and unhampered by their advice, he can ignore them as completely as if they did not exist.
In attempting to direct attention to the present financial condition of India, I have been chiefly desirous to show how important are the issues involved, and how urgently the subject demands prompt consideration. Englishmen of all political parties are, I believe, alike anxious that no misfortune should befall our Indian Empire. Opinions may differ as to the importance to be attributed to certain dangers with which she is sometimes said to be threatened; but no one can deny the reality of the peril which will be brought upon her by financial embarrassment; and the day, I believe, is not far distant when, with common consent, it will be said that those are the wisest governors of India who act steadily upon the maxim of a great statesman, that finance is the key of England's position in India.'
FÉLIX ANTOINE DUPANLOUP, BISHOP
The Editor has received from Dr. Doellinger the following letter in reference to this article:
My dear Sir, I have been allowed to read the manuscript of an article containing a biographical sketch of the late Bishop Dupanloup, which, as I understand, has been already under your eyes. I need not tell you that the position which the prelate occupied in the Roman Catholic Church, and the part which he took in the civil and religious affairs of his country, make it particularly desirable that a fair and accurate review of his career should appear in a periodical which, like the Nineteenth Century, occupies such a distinguished place in literature, and has such a wide circulation. The author has written with the help of previous materials inaccessible to others, and records events of general interest and importance, which in part are unknown, or only imperfectly or inaccurately known, by the public at large, not only in England, but also in France, Italy, and Germany. As far as my own acquaintance with the Bishop goes-and it extends over a period of twenty-five years—I can vouch the accuracy of the details and the truth of the appreciation.
In conclusion allow me to express my hearty thanks for the kindness which puts it into my power to peruse a periodical equally distinguished by the rich variety of its contents and the high literary talents of many of its contributors. Yours sincerely and gratefully, J. DOELLINGer.
On the 17th of May, 1838, the last scene was acted in the life of a man, who, all must acknowledge, played his part with a skill all the more perfect, in that he was undisturbed either by the movements of conscience, or the passionate emotions of more candid natures. Talleyrand was dying. For some months past the decay of his physical strength warned him of this moment, for which he had long prepared himself in his own fashion. His official departure from the world which he had helped to govern, and whose attention he had still longer engaged, followed the speech which he delivered on
the 3rd of March, 1838, in memory of Count Reinhardt. From that time forward he was anxiously occupied with another matter. His object was to find a link, across so many years, with that first part of his public life which found its final expression on that memorable day, when he, as Bishop of Autun, celebrated High Mass in the Champ de Mars to commemorate the first anniversary of the taking of the Bastille, and afterwards with a daring hand blessed the banner of Revolutionary France. Since then he had lived the life we know, and in which the marriage contracted in America was not the greatest difficulty which stood in the way of his reconciliation with the Catholic Church. That, however, and, as its consequence, the honours of ecclesiastical burial, was the desire of the grand seigneur, to whom nothing seemed so ungentlemanlike as a display of unbelief, and who used to say during the last years of his life, Je n'ai qu'une peur, c'est celle des inconvenances.' The family of the Prince also on their part pressed for this reconciliation.
The Duchesse de Dino, his niece, had given her daughter, whom Talleyrand used to call 'l'idole de sa vieillesse,' a teacher of religion in the person of Abbé Dupanloup, who, although still young, had attracted attention by the zeal and talent which he displayed.
One day in the spring of 1838, Talleyrand invited him to dine. The priest excused himself, saying he was not a man of the world, a subterfuge which drew upon him from the Prince the complimentary remark, cet homme ne sait pas son métier.' In the meantime, Talleyrand drew up several forms of submission, and consulted Dupanloup on the subject. These were, however, rejected, and at last the proposition was made to the Prince that he should simply sign a declaration which was drawn up specially for him. Whether or not Dupanloup was its author is unknown, but it was deemed sufficient in Rome. When, however, it was again presented to this singular penitent, he locked it up in his writing table and met all remarks with the characteristic words pas encore. On the morning of his death, whilst the illustrious and great of the political and aristocratic world thronged the door at the entrance of his bedchamber, the young pupil of Dupanloup asked the blessing of her teacher, went to the bedside of her grand-uncle, and with a last earnest prayer, besought him to make his peace with God. Talleyrand granted to her tears his signature to the retractation which was once more read aloud, and then he received the consolations of his Church. Royer-Collard, who was present, said to Dupanloup, M. l'Abbé, vous êtes un prêtre.' In consequence of this scene, the name of Dupanloup became more widely known, and was never again, with the exception of some insignificant intervals, withdrawn from publicity.
Félix Antoine Dupanloup was born a French subject at St. Félix in Savoy, on the 3rd of January, 1802, in what was then the department of Mont Blanc, although the French did not take solemn
possession of the country until the month of July following. The most different and most contradictory stories have been spread as regards his birth. He considered himself to be the child of poor country people, and kept up friendly relations with the members of his family whenever he visited his birthplace. He showed himself a true son of the mountains in his ardent affection for his native country, and it was well known in Orleans that the Bishop never met a little Savoyard without giving him a friendly greeting, a little present, and his blessing.
His uncle, a parish priest in the neighbourhood of his birthplace, gave him the rudiments of education, and sent the high-spirited and talented boy to Paris in 1815, where he first of all studied for the space of three years in a half ecclesiastical, half secular school, in the Rue du Regard, then from 1818 in the seminary of St. Nicolas, till finally in 1820, he entered St. Sulpice. Some characteristic stories are told of this youthful period. When he exchanged his first school for the second, he left it as the best scholar in his class. Notwithstanding this, they wished at St. Nicolas to make him go through this class again, on the pretext that their standard was far higher. The boy begged and prayed of his teachers to give him at least a chance, but in vain. He declared at last that he would not offer further opposition, but that he would do no more work. The Professors, who could press out of him neither an answer nor a task, had to give way, and the boy became again the first, and attained at the end of the year the distinctions of his class.
As a seminarist at St. Sulpice, he made acquaintance with a man still young, whose resolution to become a priest had made a very intelligible sensation. This was the Duc de Rohan, whom a frightful catastrophe induced to take this step. His wife's dress had caught fire as she was standing near a chimney-piece, and she died in consequence. Some years afterwards, in 1819, he entered the seminary, and there became such a friend of young Dupanloup's, that he was in the habit of asking him for the vacation to his château at La Roche Guyon. It was there in the autumn of 1826 that he made the acquaintance of Montalembert, then sixteen years old, and both firmly preserved the impressions of their first meeting. Looking back upon these days Dupanloup wrote in 1861: Shortly before, Montalembert had left college, where he had taken the first prize in French literature. Already at that time he was a conscientious Christian, a sincere Catholic, zealously applying himself to study, and full of pugnacity. One felt already that, as he said himself, he was ready for war, and that a defender of freedom and of right had arisen in him.'1
Montalembert on his part expressed himself not less favourably in regard to the young priest, whose extraordinary gifts had not
'Dupanloup, 'Les Moines d'Occident,' Correspondant, Jan. 1861.