considering himself the representative of a divine Ruler. Again, Shakespeare's strong religious sense is manifest in his belief in the control of the universe by law and order and harmony, and in obedience to natural law as essential to man's welfare. This principle Shakespeare expressed both abstractly and concretely, abstractly in a fine passage which almost redeems the coarseness of Troilus and Cressida; and concretely, in presenting Richmond as the champion of God's cause, victorious where Richard the Third failed because he had inverted the natural moral order of things, dashing himself to pieces, as Dowden puts it, against the laws of the world which he has outraged.' We may rejoice that Shakespeare discerned this essentially religious principle, an idea which dominates the whole Divine Comedy; it did not, however, become with him, as with Dante, the power that controlled even the least detail of his art.

It is indeed surprising that Shakespeare, a man of the Renaissance, writing for men of the world, should have been so far above his age as respects religious feeling. But it is still more surprising that Dante, a Mediævalist to whom religion was supreme, should have had the unerring judgment of a true creative artist which prevented him from emphasising the spiritual and religious capacities of man to the exclusion of other elements of his nature. The fact that Dante wrote not as a mere mystic, but as a seer who knew men's hearts through and through, even as Shakespeare knew them, places him in the front rank of poets; but at the same time, it is his mysticism, the religious symbolism of the Divine Comedy, which does most to raise him above Shakespeare. Although we could hardly expect religious symbolism in Shakespeare's dramas, yet in the Divine Comedy which combines so many of Shakespeare's greatest qualities, its presence is as a halo of surpassing loveliness and power. Since art sprang from religious symbolism, there lies deep in the heart of man that which always responds to its appeal, and feels it as an added charm in a beautiful poem; hence to many of us the name of Dante means far more than does the name of Shakespeare.

Though we may marvel at Dante's power to visualise Hell, with all its stern realities, though the sweet humanity of the Purgatorio lifts us up into the serenity of God's peace, it is chiefly to the Paradiso that we must turn for our deepest knowledge and appreciation of Dante as a poet, for here he has come nearer than any other poet to accomplishing the impossible task of making the finite apprehend the Infinite; he has shown us mortal man at last united in mind, in will, in desire, in perfect love, with his Creator. He has thus gone beyond the boundaries of any art otherwise known to us; though he himself realised his limitations, his successes, as compared with his failures to suggest the glories of heaven, are so remarkable that we must feel that Dante shows us, as no other poet or painter can, what art

should strive to do, that he has proved the value of attempting, at least, to scale the loftiest heights.

As with Dante we finally behold the form of our own image painted in the Eternal Light, like unto that Light itself, we are left with a deeper understanding of the mystical union of the Divine and the human, and are left, also, with a sense of the reality of a vision to which we ourselves may look forward with hope, and faith, and joy. In closing, I can only echo the words of Dean Church, who perhaps more than anyone else has entered into the spirit of Dante, and who says: "Those who know the Divina Commedia best. . . know, and would wish others also to know, not by hearsay, but by experience, the power of that wonderful poem.' Yes, by experience, for only as we go to Dante in our daily lives for help, and courage, and comfort, for strength, and joy, and peace, for renewed faith in our fellow-men, for power to look into and to read the mysteries of nature and of the human heart, for a deeper knowledge of God, for firmer trust in God's justice and love-only thus can we even begin to know and to appreciate the beauty and the power of the Divine Comedy. MARY WINSLOW SMYTH.

VOL. LXIV-No. 380

TT

THE CHAOS OF LONDON TRAFFIC

TIME flies! It seems like yesterday, but eight years have gone by since Mr. Charles Booth brought home to many of us that the lack of facilities of locomotion threatened the well-being of London.

It is nearly six years since his Gracious Majesty, acting on the advice of the Ministry of that day, commissioned certain trusty and well-beloved' subjects to inquire into the means of locomotion and transport in London, and to report.'

It is more than three years since one of the strongest and most conscientious Royal Commissions which ever sat came to the end of its labours and delivered itself of these words:

It is imperatively necessary in the interests of public health and public convenience, and for the prompt transaction of business, as well as to render decent housing possible, that the means of locomotion and transport in London and its adjacent districts should be improved; they are seriously defective, and the demands and needs of the public are annually increasing.

What has been done?

To begin with, let us be clear on one point. The Commissioners prophesied truly. The demands and needs of the public,' the cry for better' means of locomotion and transport,' have increased and are ever increasing. It remains for us to consider whether they are being fairly met.

It is the teaching of history that nearly all developments of this nature which make for the material advantage of the people must be the joint work of two agencies.

Individuals have ideas which they pursue along what are sometimes rather narrow lines.

They may be animated by philanthropy, by ambition, by love of scientific progress, or by the desire to make money. Therefore they require watching.

Sometimes it will be well for the authorities to assist them by all the means in their power, for there are things which individual effort cannot accomplish without aid. At other times they must be curbed or even repressed.

For the improvement of locomotion in London were wanted both the spirit of invention and dash of private enterprise and the guidance

and discriminating assistance of some supervising intelligence. Nobody can say that the first has been found wanting.

The Commissioners said again :

Increased modern methods of locomotion and transport are much needed, both to facilitate movement within the central area and to facilitate access to and from and within the suburbs for those who work in London and live outside.

Already, as they wrote, the inventors were supplying 'modern methods' hitherto undreamt of, and the financiers had commenced to pour out money like water. Both have gone on ever since. Railways, tubes, and tramways have been spreading far and wide, and on the top of all came the rapid evolution of the motor vehicle, which, whether it is to be considered a blessing or a curse, is at any rate epoch-making and progressive.

Years hence, when the prejudice has died down, and when our genius for compromise has settled the motor problem once and for all, it will occur to some serious student of the comparative merits and demerits of individualism and collectivism to preach a most instructive sermon with the motor-car as his text. He will point out how this nation, obsessed with the belief that the English were the great horse-lovers of the world, in the past practically ruled mechanically propelled traffic off its public roads. By collective action the many horsekeepers imposed upon the few mechanicians the man who walked in front with the danger-flag. It was the simplest and most effective bar to advancement in locomotive facilities that could ever have been imagined, and it lasted for two generations. Then the days arrived when one individual thought of the pneumatic tyre and another of the petrol engine. The nation woke up, suddenly remembered that it claimed also to lead the world in the making and the use of machinery, and abolished the man with the flag.

The effect was magical. At once individualism took the bit between its teeth and bolted. It had an immediate and overwhelming triumph. As a result, invention ran riot, the face of the country was changed and had to be revalued.

It was the quickest revolution ever known.

But, while we have gone back to the pre-railroad conditions of an open land, there is this difference, that, tolls having been abolished, nine-tenths of the people who make use of the main roads are gaily irresponsible. Quite naturally there is now a revulsion towards the suppression of the individual, and a collective demand for fresh laws, and laws that shall be obeyed. I should be sorry to try to forecast the accomplished facts with which my serious student will have to deal towards the end of his discourse, but there can be little doubt that he will arrive at the conclusion that it is equally short-sighted to crush the individual or to fail to control him.

Now, what has happened of late in London is that the individual,

having been called in and implored to exercise his inventive faculties and put down his money in a good cause, has responded nobly. Railway dividends have shrunk while the various great companies have vied with each other to carry their passengers more cheaply and more comfortably. Sixteen millions have been buried in the bowels of the earth in the pious hope that some day they will bring in an adequate return. Half the engineers in England are working to improve road carriages of one sort or another. When we come to consider the streets to-day there are nearly as many horses as there used to be; but there is a great deal besides. The horsed tramways, which numbered 332 on the 1st of January 1904, had indeed shrunk by the 31st of July this year to 257; but, on the other hand, between the same dates the electric cars had increased from 192 to 924. For cabs and omnibuses the following are the police figures of vehicles licensed :

1908 (only up till July 31) 1,380

As regards the general motor traffic, whereas up to the end of 1904 only 5,023 motor vehicles had been registered in London, by the 31st of July 1908-in less than four years-this number had grown to 25,067.

The result of all this has been a glut of modern methods superimposed upon the old methods, overlapping of schemes, waste of money, chaos and indignation meetings.

Is it to be wondered at? While the individual, let loose on the town, has been galloping, the authorities have hardly stirred; and his Majesty's Government has ignored the fact that the Traffic Commissioners foresaw the chaos and knew that it would require reducing to order, and that their labours led them unanimously to one conclusion-dominating their whole report the paramount necessity for a controlling hand. They recommended a non-elected Traffic Board, and defined what, in their opinion, its duties should be. Why has it not been appointed?

Governments exist for carrying on the business of the country and also as a target for those who hold political opinions of an opposite colour. But it is never well to push the latter too far, and there are moments at which a Government in a difficulty must command the respectful sympathy even of its opponents. So, when one gentleman who has just been frightened out of his life by a motor-bus, and another gentleman who cannot work by day or sleep by night because a train goes past his house, cry out in chorus, 'Why on earth don't they do what the Commission recommended and set up a Traffic Board and