do no more than call attention to it. (2) The singular statement in Conv. III. vi., 11. 23 seqq., where Dante says that assuming the day and night together to consist of 24 equal hours, sometimes the day has 15 hours and the night 9, and sometimes the night has 16 hours and the day 8. Now this is very curious indeed, for we naturally ask: (1) Why does Dante, who, as we have seen, was aware of the prolongation of the day and night to six months, stop at the limits of 15 or 16 hours? And (2) Why does he give a different length for the maximum day and the maximum night, since clearly if he is speaking of the same place, or of the same latitude, such a difference could not exist? The only explanation that suggests itself as to the form of these questions is that Dante was probably speaking of the limits of his own personal experience. If so, and if we further enquire what are the latitudes corresponding to the differing phenomena of daylight here described, the result is very curious and significant. The first condition, i.e. when the longest day is 16 hours and the shortest night 8, corresponds with the latitude of Paris or thereabouts. The second condition, where the longest day is 15 hours and the shortest night 9 hours (or, as Dante puts it, vice versa), corresponds with the latitude of Rome or thereabouts. Now these are just about the N. and S. limits of the travels of Dante, of which we seem to have something like authentic information. At any rate this passage, so interpreted, seems to give some support to the belief that he had travelled sufficiently far N. to have had actual experience of the conditions here described, viz. a day or a night 16 hours long. It seems difficult otherwise to suggest any explanation for the figures here selected. It may be added that our English longest day is about 16 hours. The difference, however, is too small on which to found an argument for or against Dante's supposed visit to England, the positive evidence for which is extremely slender.

The passage just quoted conducts us to the last point to be noticed in connexion with the measurement of time, viz. the length of the hour. Dante is continuing the illustration of the same sentence of the canzone which led to the discussion of the

solar motions in ch. v. As he there spoke of the hour' in which the sun shone upon his lady, he now declares :

'Wherefore it must be known that the hour' is taken in two different ways by astronomers; one is that they make of the day and of the night twenty-four hours, i.e. twelve of the day and twelve of the night, whether the day be long or short. And these hours themselves become short or long in the day and in the night, in

proportion

proportion as the day and night increase and diminish.

are the hours employed by the Church when she says Prime, Tierce, Sext, and None, and they are called "temporal hours."

Then follows the passage already commented on, in which a variable number of hours is assigned to the day and to the night, and these are called 'equal' hours.* This strange, and, as it seems to us, very inconvenient distinction of hours,' is commonly found in ancient and mediæval astronomy (both methods being employed by the Greeks and Romans), and it is to be found explained in Alfraganus (c. xi.). We believe that the use of these temporal' hours still prevails in Turkey.

It is hard for us to realize the constant difficulties and strange shifts to which people were put before the invention of clocks, which was not until the twelfth century, A.D., but their use seems to have been extremely rare until well into the thirteenth, and they were far from common even in the time of Dante. The passage in Par. x. 139-144, in which he refers to an 'orologio' in this sense is well known. In monasteries the hour was ascertained at night by a rude observation of the stars, or by the gradual burning of a candle, or sometimes, when it could be afforded, by a clepsydra or water-clock. A monk was appointed for the special duty of observing the time, and S. Peter Damian (quoted by Sir G. C. Lewis) recommends him on dark nights to repeat several Psalms, a known quantity of which will empirically represent a certain lapse of time. This may throw light on a quasi-astronomical passage in Brunetto Latini, in which the Arctic day is unscientifically described as being so short as hardly to allow time to sing a Mass! It is curious to find an old writer, even after the invention of clocks, giving elaborate directions for remedying their inconvenient regularity, and for making them mark longer or shorter hours according to the season! These 'temporal' hours were the result of the introduction of the sundial. The period of daylight, whether long or short, was divided into twelve equal periods or hours,' and tables were constructed giving the length of the shadow of the gnomon of the sundial at each of these hours. The first sundial, and consequently the first recognition of hours, is said to have been introduced at Rome in 263 B.C. The dial in question was taken from Catana in the First Punic War, and as it was constructed for the latitude of Sicily, it was inaccurate at Rome. Yet one

*They are also sometimes called 'equinoctial' hours, because their length (as Dante goes on to explain) is the same as that of the temporal' hours on the equator, or equinoctial line.

hundred

hundred years are said to have elapsed before this error was corrected! Before this date we do not hear of hours, but only sunrise, noon, and sunset. Sir G. C. Lewis quotes a fragment of Plautus (c. 220), preserved by Aulus Gellius, giving us a curious glimpse into these primitive and pre-orarian days. He introduces a slave complaining of the new-fangled introduction of sundials and hours, because his meals were now made to depend upon the sun, whereas, when he was a boy, he used to eat when he was hungry! Is it not indeed surprising to think of the advances made in astronomy by the ancient Chaldeans, Egyptians and Greeks, in the absence of any better conditions for recording the lapse of time? It seems almost incredible that such accuracy can have been obtained in the determination of the planetary orbits, and above all that such a minute inequality as the precession of the equinoxes should have been detected in the third century before Christ.

We conclude with two brief remarks: (1) In whatever direction we sound the depths of Dante's wonderful knowledge and culture, we gain the same impression that it is as profound as it is varied and extensive. In theology, in scholastic philosophy, in metaphysical, moral, and physical science, and in classical literature, if judged by the standard even of a contemporary specialist in each, he will not be found wanting. (2) From this we understand why Dante is often found to be difficult to understand. To adopt a distinction made by Coleridge, he may be hard,' but he is seldom, if indeed ever, 'obscure.' In other words, the difficulty lies in the subject rather than in the writer. For surely no writer ever had more entirely clear ideas on every subject on which he speaks. They are as sharp in outline as if they were graven on a rock with a pen of iron. And not only this, but he very often displays besides a power of luminous exposition and apt illustration which is scarcely less exceptional.

ART.

ART. X.-1. L'Espionnage et la Trahison. Par Robert Detourbet. Paris, 1898.

2. Une Erreur Judiciaire-La Verité sur l'Affaire Dreyfus. Par Bernard Lazare. Bruxelles, 1896.

3. Une Erreur Judiciaire-L'Affaire Dreyfus.

Mémoire. Par Bernard Lazare. Paris, 1897.

Deuxième

4. La Revision du Procès Dreyfus. Par Yves Guyot. Paris,

1898.

5. Le Procès Esterhazy: Le Procès Zola. Les comptes rendus sténographiques du Temps.' Paris, 1898.

N the very earliest days of the human race, we can imagine

our primeval ancestors under the conditions of life rendered necessary by the great struggle for existence. No sooner had palæolithic man acquired the rudimentary art of fashioning rough stone implements, than he must also have availed himself of equally rude methods for obtaining clandestine information before he could raid the supplies stored in the cavern of a more provident troglodytic neighbour. From our childhood we were taught the traditional story of Joseph's brethren accused of being spies, and we have all been interested in Joshua, the Captain of the Israelitish host, the very text of whose instructions, whose report, and the popular fury it excited, are they not all recorded in the Old Testament with minute fidelity? At a far later period, frequent allusions to the general use of spies by the great captains of Greece, Rome, and Carthage prove that no important campaign in classic times was ever undertaken without preliminary information thus obtained. It is certain that espionage figured prominently in the Roman military code, among the various stratagemata permissible in all honourable warfare, and clearly distinguishable from treachery (Dolus malus), which was rightly stigmatized as unworthy of the Roman citizen and soldier.

It is this distinction between espionage and treason which M. Detourbet undertakes to elucidate in the work before us, for, as he tells us, in many works on military and international law which he has consulted, these terms are too often confused; some authorities treating them as synonymous, whilst others but vaguely differentiate between these really distinct offences. Before giving his own definitions of them, our author analyzes the discrepancies and anomalies presented by the principal text books on these particular crimes and the penal laws concerning them, which last he finds to be frequently misleading and generally defective. To the same opinion the

French

French military authorities have been recently brought by a remarkable case, which has necessitated fresh legislation on the subject.

Guelle, for instance, gives the following definitions: 'A Spy is he who clandestinely searches for information ''Treason consists in his doing so for the enemy of his country.' According to Holtzendorff, espionage, although lawful as a ruse of war, is nevertheless punishable by death on account of its danger; whilst Martens declares the usage of spies not to be contrary to the laws of warfare, and defines a Spy as one who disguises his true quality. Pinheiro Ferreira finds the employment of spies to be immoral and dangerous; whilst M. Morin thinks espionage especially blamable because it is usually premeditated and not spontaneous. This writer is one of those who do not differentiate espionage from treason. He blames espionage because paid for; and, although he admits it to be sometimes lawful when untainted by perfidy, considers its use ought to be reserved solely for cases of absolute emergency. He also insists on the clandestine methods, and lays down these rules that a spy is not liable to penalty of death unless taken in the act; that if captured subsequently he ought to be treated as a prisoner of war; and that, in any case except one of urgent necessity, no spy should be condemned without trial.

:

Professor Lieber, in the official instructions of the United States, agrees with M. Morin, as also does Herr Bluntschli, who adds that capital punishment is inflicted on spies not because of the ignominy of their act, but on account of the necessity of imposing the severest penalty as the best defence against an imminent danger. M. Billot declares that any person found disguised inside military lines may be presumed a spy, and that any non-combatant, resident in territory occupied by an enemy's force, acting in aid of the late Government, is liable to punishment for treason and to suffer death with possible extenuating circumstances.

The employment of spies, writes M. Pradier-Fodéré, is legitimate. He finds the penalty of death applied to espionage to be out of proportion with the gravity of the act; stating his opinion that it is illogical to punish spies with death and yet to employ them on one's own account. He distinguishes between espionage and treason-only if the spy is a compatriot is he guilty of treason. M. Pillet names two characteristics of military espionage, viz. clandestine methods and intention of transmitting intelligence to the enemy's army. Calvo asserts that a spy cannot shield himself behind the orders of his Government or the exigencies of military duty. The hateful duty