an impartial attitude.
Further, he stuck to the Buddhist stories as he found them. All the
license he took was that of selection and versification. But his recent
_Light of the World_ is another matter. He dishes up Jesus Christ in it,
and Pontius Pilate and Mary Magdalene and the Wise Men of the East, as
freely as Tennyson dishes up Arthur and Launcelot and Guinevere and
the rest of that famous company. His style, too, is Tennysonian, to a
certain degree. It is something like the Master's on its general level,
but we miss the flashing felicities, the exquisite sentence or image
that makes us breathless with sudden pleasure. Sir Edward's style has
always a smack of the _Daily Telegraph_. He is high-flown in expressing
even small ideas, or in describing trivialities.

Like a true Christian and courtier, Sir Edwin Arnold dedicates his book
to "the Queen's Most Excellent Majesty." Those who fear God must also
honor the king; and did not Jesus himself tell us to render unto Caesar
the things that be Caesar's, as well as unto God the things that be
God's? We presume Sir Edwin's dedication is "with permission." We
also presume it will help the sale and promote his chance of the
poet-laureateship.

After the dedication comes the "Proeme" of eight couplets, occupying a
separate page, faced and backed with virgin paper.

The sovereign voice spake, once more, in mine ear: "Write, now, a song
unstained by any tear!"

"What shall I write?" I said: the voice replied: "Write what we tell
thee of the crucified!"

"How shall I write," I said, "who am not meet One word of that sweet
speaking to repeat?"

"It shall be given unto thee! Do this thing!" Answered the voice: "Wash
thy lips clean, and sing!"

This "proeme" is, to say the least of it, peculiar. The "sovereign
voice" can hardly be the Queen's. It must be God Almighty's. Sir Edwin
Arnold is therefore inspired. He writes as it is "given unto" him. And
before he begins, by divine direction, he washes his lips clean;
though he omits to tell us how he did it, whether with a flannel or a
pocket-handkerchief.

It is well to know that Sir Edwin is inspired. Carnal criticism is thus
disarmed and questions become blasphemous. But if Sir Edwin had _not_
been inspired we should have offered certain remarks and put certain
queries. For instance, how does he know that the star of the Nativity
was "a strange white star"? May it not have been red, yellow, blue, or
green--especially g