the theory that there were only 145 compounds of the elements, the number being arrived at by considering that each element could act in one of four intensities or degrees; and it carries the analysis of the qualities needed to produce a perfect and unchangeable body, in which they should be in equilibrium, to its farthest point.

Another important work for the history of speculative alchemy is the 'Clavis Majoris Sapientiæ' of Artephius, sometimes printed under the name of Alphonsus the Wise, King of Castille, but certainly older than his date. It is divided into three parts, of which the first describes the way in which the elements are compounded; the second treats of the formation of minerals and metals, natural and artificial; the third begins with the theory of plant and animal life and growth, develops a theory of the humours, sanguine, choleric, phlegmatic, and melancholic, and their equality which makes for health, and finally proceeds to what is on the face of it a short course of magic, but is more probably an account of practical alchemy shrouded under conventional wizardry.

Such, in brief, are the Arab alchemical works which were at the command of European students in the early part of the 13th century, and which we still possess. Others, of like importance, such as the Gilgil quoted by Albertus, seem to be lost, though we may hope that some may be recovered when the students of the history of science in other countries are led to follow the example of Mrs Singer, whose catalogue of alchemical manuscripts in Great Britain is now passing through the press. Some estimate of their influence and relative importance can be arrived at by the quotations made from them in the early medieval encyclopedias, such as the 'De Naturis Rerum' of William de Conchis, and Thomas de Cantimpré, the 'De Proprietatibus Rerum' of Bartholomew the Englishman, and the 'Speculum Naturale and Doctrinale' of Vincent of Beauvais; as well as by the citations of Albertus Magnus, St Thomas, Bacon, and others.

The alchemy in the first of these encyclopedias, the 'De Naturis Rerum,' is theoretical and is mainly derived from the translations by Gerard of Cremona, from

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Isidore, and from early medical works like Platearius.' Bartholomew quotes Isidore, medical works, the Lapidary, Avicenna, and the Alchemy of Hermes; Vincent in his earlier work, the 'Speculum Doctrinale,' quotes Avicenna De Anima,'' De Congelatione,' and 'Ad Hasen,' Rhazes 'De Aluminibus,' the 'Liber Septuaginta,' Armenides, and two lost treaties on Alchemy; in his enlarged 'Speculum Naturale,' in addition to these, he quotes the 'De Natura Rerum,' the 'Lumen Luminum,' Alfarabi, the Doctrina Alchymie,' now lost, and the De Vaporibus' of Averroes, also lost. The quotations in Vincent of Beauvais are long enough and of sufficient accuracy to enable us to check the manuscripts of these tracts we still possess, and to establish their identity. With its entry into the encyclopedias, alchemy was launched into the scientific world of the Middle Ages.

The history of scientific theory has yet to be written: it is, largely, a subsection of the History of Human Error, but it is, none the less, an instructive and necessary study. A theory is founded to explain observed facts in the light of those laws of nature accepted as axiomatic by the mind. The greater part of the facts, to-day as in the beginnings of science, are taken on authority; that is, they are assumed to be facts, and necessarily so; while analogy is still used as a base for scientific arguments. From the earliest ages philosophers have been giving speculative explanations of assumed facts by assumed analogies; and the practice did not die with Alchemy.

ROBERT STEELE.

Art. 12.-THE BRITISH SPIRIT.

It is not becoming for an individual publicly to discuss himself, and in some measure the same principle may hold good of a people; but when a national crisis which threatened infinite possibilities, including black disaster, has been safely and resolutely passed, it is permissible to summarise facts and to estimate characteristics; and if the result is gratifying, it is legitimate not only to be gratified but also, with Cap'n Cuttle, to 'take a note on t.'

The recent General Strike, which might more accurately be called an attempted Revolution, was a crime against the community. So cruel and far-reaching were its effects, hurting the poor, the weak and the innocent, for the benefit of a class, that its wickedness can only be fairly compared with the amazing stupidity that launched it. Happily, the strike failed; but how easily it might have succeeded is illustrated by the panic shown by Mr Lloyd George in the astonishing contribution made by him to an American newspaper. That statesman, who evidently has learnt very little from his responsibilities as a peace-maker and a Prime Minister, saw deadlock as complete as was prophesied by pessimists in the War during the dark days of close trench-fighting on the Western Front; and if in the recent crisis we all had been Lloyd Georges the result must have been a victory for those who were in the wrong, and so, quite possibly, have led to the beginning of red ruin.

Happily, on this occasion, and not for the first time in the history of the last few years, the judgment of the Member for the Carnarvon Boroughs proved inaccurate. Almost before the printer's ink of his article was dry, the strike collapsed; and at the moment when we were reading his assertion that with protagonists of such power-the associated Trades Unions challenging the Imperial Government, while the resources of millions were on either side-a compromise was the only means of discovering peace, the right end had been reached and without a compromise. It is, however, not our purpose in this place to pillory any politician or to discuss the details or the principles underlying the General Strike. Those opportunities have been

sufficiently realised elsewhere. Our purpose is to see and suggest what personal and national characteristics were evident in that industrial, that political, struggle of nine days-because they were the causes of the collapse and the victory, as they have been of the general success of the British régime since the beginning of its constitutional establishment.

When the recent catastrophe suddenly fell, it was, in many respects, like the outbreak of the War in August 1914. Wiseacres said the thing was impossible. The consequences would be too vast. Civilisation had become too complex. The Prussians did not mean it. The Banking Industry did not want it. Commerce could not suffer it. The world, anyhow, was kinder now. The age of brute force, if not actually past, was to be realised only by the lesser breeds without the law. So leave it to natural common sense and the statesmen. Buoyed by such reasonings, the playing of games and the tournaments and dances continued. Evidently, in the circumstances, the statesmen did their best; but, again in 1926 as in 1914, wills were at work, cruel and angry forces, which not all the persuasiveness even of the Angel of Peace, it seems, could have convinced or controlled. War was called for, and War had to be.

We saw then an acceptance by the common people of the consequences of the strike, and a sacrifice of convenience and necessities similar to that shown when the darker grief had fallen twelve years earlier. On this new occasion, also, the likelihood of the complete cessation of the normal machinery of social life had been ignored. It is safe to say that, even a day before the actual stoppage of transport by rail and road and the commission of the other unsocial acts of which the Trades Union Council was guilty, less than nineteen of twenty ordinary suburban citizens-even with the newspapers shouting at them in headlines-had the faintest belief that a General Strike was actually and at once to take place. Fortunately, others had not been so shortsighted, and measures were taken which proved finally effectual; but that is another story. The man in the street and his wife at home woke up on the morning of Tuesday, May 4th, to find their world silent. Wheels had refused to run. Newspapers did not arrive.

There was a doubt of the morrow's milk and bread. Clerks and typists, accustomed to the ease of trains, omnibuses, and trams, had to walk miles to the offices of their employment; but despite the almost universal unsettlement which marked the beginning of the strike, a spirit was evoked and quickened; an old spirit of cheerfulness and joyous acceptance of facts and of consideration and serviceableness to others, which has made history many a time, and invariably has proved a quenchless influence on the side of justice, as well as a primal consequence of the resultant victory in all manner of strife.

The spirit of the British nation at the outbreak of the War was idealist. The pride of the hour called to an answering greatness. Despite their years and responsibilities, men joined the Army eagerly, not from any such high-flown notions as poor orators sometimes indulge in in their perorations, but from an inward sense that duty must be done, and that the underdog should not be trampled out. On that occasion the underdog was Belgium. In May 1926 the underdog was the normal, hard-working, pleasant, tax-paying everyday citizen : and in defence of the simple rights of a plain humanity, women and men, girls and boys, met the crisis with a smiling equanimity which proved once more inconquerable. Mutual help in transport and other sorts of giveand-take were willingly offered and accepted. Cook's son and duke's son-to quote from a familiar ballad-were linked in a true democratic brotherhood, each helping the other to bear his burden, and determined, cheerfully and silently, but really very earnestly, that the common good should not be sacrificed to the dictation of an autocracy, which, with an astonishing levity and want of forethought, as events rapidly proved, had endeavoured to realise what, in effect, was a Coup d'État.

It is time that the national figure of John Bull was redrawn. The spirit of England is no longer to be fitly represented by a bluff pre-Victorian middle-aged farmer, stolid and burly, whose mind is given to the contemplation of acres of corn and the plentiful enjoyment of Devonshire cider and of good red beef. It is difficult to portray the revised idea of the national character; but, with all the experience of disciplined years and grim