THE NEW ENGLANDER. No. XC. JANUARY, 186~. ARTICLE 1.TIlE CONFLICT WITH SKEPTICISM AND UNBELIEF. FIFTH ARTICLE :THE NATURE AND FUNCTION OF THE CHRISTIAN MIRACLES. WE make the attempt in this Article to define the nature, and determine the appropriate and appointed use of miracles. In- cidental reference will be made to recent objections and diffi- culties, although few, if any, of these will be found to be really novel or previously unanswered. The path of our discussion lies in great part through a not unfamiliar field; yet more precise conceptions of accepted truth are sometimes of hardly less value than new discoveries. For the sake of greater clear- ness, the remarks we have to offer will be arranged under a series of special topics. WhAT Is THE IDEA OF A MIRACLE? In answering this question we reject at the outset what the Germans call the relative nature of the miracle, or the notion that the miraculous quality of such an event is merely rela VOL. XXIV. 1 2 The Comjlict with Skepticism and U~belief. [Jan., tive to human feeling and apprehension. This definition does not go beyond the etymology of the term. But an event which excites wonder in an extraordinary degree is not there- by constituted a miracle. The authority of Augustine has often been pleaded in favor of this faulty definition. Tie says that a miracle is not contrary to Nature, but only to that Na- ture which is known to us. The ordinary operations of nature, he says, were they unfamiliar, would excite not less amaze- ment, and are in reality not less wonderful, than miracles. But in Augustines view, which results from his anti-manich~an philosophy, all the opcrations of Nature are immediate exer- tions of the Divine will. Tn this respect, therefore, he can place miracles in the same category with the every-day opera- tions of nature, while he holds, at the same tii~e, that the mira- cle when regarded from another point of view, is an altogether exceptional eveut.* Spinoza, identifying God with Nature, is consistent in denying that any distinctive characteristic of an objective kind belongs to a miracle. This term, he says, has respect only to the opinions entertained by men, and signifies no more than this, that we, or at all events, they who narrate the event in question, are unable to explain it by the analogy of any other event familiar to experience. On Spinozas scheme, a miracle in the proper sense, is a complete absurdity.t Schleiermacher, never wholly able to escape from the atmos- phere of Pantheism, comes no nearer the true idea, when he says that any event, even the most natural, may be styled a miracle, provided the religious view of its origin is sponta * Augustine, Do Civ. Del, xxi. 8. 2. Omnia quippe portenta contra Natur~m dicirnus ease: sed non sunt. Quomodo est enim contra Naturam, quod Dei fit voluntate, cum voluntas tanti utique Conditoris conditn rei cujusque natura eat! The will of Godthe voluntas of the Creatoris Nature. 1 Spinona devotes c. vi. of the Tract. Theolog-Polit. to the subject of mir- acles; and further considers the subject in his LettersEpist. xxi and xxiii. He says (in the chapter above referred to): Ex hissequitur, nomen miraculi non nisi respective ad hominum opiniones posse intelligi, et nihul aliud signifi- care, quam opus, cujus causam naturalem exornplo alterius rei solitas explicare noa possumus. vel saltem ipso non potest, qui miraculum scribit aut narrat. With Spinaza leges siaturales are one and the same with Dci nature. See the context of thepa~sage. 1865.j Nature and Function of the Christian Jllivacles. 3 neously awakened in the mind, with a forgetfulness of the prox- imate natural causes.* The relative notion of the miracle fails to separate it objectively and really from a natural eventan event occurring by Natural law. Neither the degree of as- tonishinerit with which events are regarded, nor the question whether they can be referred to a previously ascertained law, nor, again, the question whether they are attributed sponta- neously to the power of God, forms the defining characteristic of a miraculous occurrence. An attentive observation of the * Wunder 1st nur der reli~i6se Name far Begebenheit: jede, auch die allerna- tiirlichste, sobald sie sich dazu eignet, dass die religose Ansicht von ihr die herr- scheude scm kann, ist em Wunder. Mir let alles Wundor, & c. Reden (6 A.) 5. 106. See, also, N. 16, 5. 145. Schleiermachefs views are more fully set forth in his System of Theologythe Glaubenslehre14 Zusatz, 34, 2, 3, and 41. Though not rejecting the New Testament miracles, as historical occurrences, he still professes his agreement with those who hold dass Gott die Wunder auf eine un~ unbegreifliche Art in der Natur selbst vorbereitet gehaht. B 1. 5. 240. But his reasoning to prove that a divine act must he performed through the sys- tern of Nature and provided for in that system, is unsound and of a Pantheistic tendency. Schiciermacher has again discussed the subject of miracles in his Lectures upon the Life of Jesus, published lately for the first time. He has taken, however, no new positions. In his endeavor to refer the miracles of Jesus to energies be- longing to Nature, he is perplexed by the control which Christ exercised over inanimate existence, as in stilling the tempest, multiplying the loaves of bread, and raising the dead. (See p. 223). Such events, he perceives, can be attribu- ted to no mysterious natural energy, which is supposed to have enabled him to produce extraordinary effectsfor example, in healingin contact with living men. Yet the miracles of the class mentioned above are kistorically as well at- tested as any of the rest. This fact Schleiermacher is constrained to allow, and hence finds it impossible to extricate himself from the difficulty into which he is thrown, and which is due to the false assumption as to the relative nature of the miracle, with which he sets out. That the miracles of Christ could not have been performed by any power em- bosomed in Natureas, for example, by an energy belonging naturally to pre- eminent human virtuewould seem to be an obvious truth. Yet a recent writer (Furness, Veil partly Lifted, p. 216) takes this position, even respecting the res urrection of Jesus. Aside from the tremendous difficulty of supposing such anomalous events, as the miracles recorded in the Bible, to be due to any power latent in human nature, we are cut off from that sispposition by the testimony of Christ himself, and are obliged to refer them to a supernatural Author. The broaching of such a theory indicates a desire, which amounts to a determination, to get rid of the agency of a living, persosial God. 4 The Conflict with Skeptici8m and Unbelief. [Jan., common phenomena of Nature, as Augustine and after him Luther and many others have forcibly pointed out, may well kindle wonder, and in a religious mind will carry up the thoughts to God. But such phenomena are not, on this ac- count, to be deemed miraculous.* In defining a miracle we pledge ourselves to no particular theory concerning the constitution of Nature. If the new doctrine of the persistency of forcethe correlation of forces, Mr. Grove calls itshould be established, and if all the phe- nomena of matter should be found to be due to varieties of motionto be varied manifestations of one essenceour pres- ent discussion would not be sensibly affected. If occasionalisrn be adopted as the true philosophy; if it be maintained that the operations of Nature proceed immediately from the voli- tions of God, the efficiency of second causes being denied, or even that the phenomena of Nature are indistinguishable from these volitions, what we have to say, would, with slight verbal modifications, hold good. We proceed, however, upon the position which is commonly taken by theists, that secondary causes are real, that matter is an entity manifesting forces, though requiring the direct sustenance and co-working of the power of God. The forces resident in Nature subsist and act, but they subsist and act, not without the Divine preserva- tionthe concur~us Dci. A miracle is an event which the forces of Nature, or second- ary causes, operating thus under the ordinary divine preserva- tion, are incoml)Ctent to produce.t Secondary causes may be concerned in the production of a miracle. For a miracle (cx * For good remarks on the relative notion of a miracle, see the valuable Essay of Julius Muller on the subject of Miracles, to which we shall again refer, c. iv Relativa quam vocant miraculi notio examinatur. ~ In this definition we use the term Nature as a synonym for the sum of sec- ond causes, or the creation in distinction from God. If the term be taken less comprehensively, as embracing only man and the material universe, or that por- tion of the material nuiverse of which he has any knowledge, then in order to differentiate a miracle from other supernatural eventsevents, for example, which it may be thought possible for superhuman, created intelligences to bring to pass we must add another element to the definition and explicitly connect the mira- cle with a volition of God. 1865.] Nature and Function of the chri8tian ]Jhracle8. 5 cept in the case of creation de nihilo) is wrought in ~ature, or in the realm of second canses; but these are insufficient to ex- plain it. It is an event which only the intervention of the First Cause is adequate to prodnce. Beyond the constant upholding of Nature in the normal exercise of its powers, there has been an interposition of God to effect that which otherwise could not have taken place. Pascal has exactly hit the true nature of a miracle, when he terms it a result exceeding the natural force of the means employed. If the axe floats on the water, some power is exerted above the powers of Nature. They, if left to themselves, would necessarily carry it to the bottom. e 15 A MIRACLE TO BE CONSIDERED A 5U5PEN5ION OR VIOLATION OF NATURAL LAW? More commonly this question has been answered in the affirmative. Yet the point is one on which theologians are not yet agreed. For example, Dr. N. W. Taylor, whose discussion of the general subject is marked by his wonted acuteness, styles a miracle a deviation from some law of Nature, and appears, also, to sanction the statement that miracles may in- volve a violation of natural law.* On the contrary, Dr. Julius MUller considers the statement improper and un- founded.t The difference is really due to the different mode in which the phrase, law of Nature, is defined by the parties re- spectively. Dr. Taylor means by a law of Nature that established course, or order, of things or events, which depends solely on the constitution, properties, or nature of any created thing, and which admits of no deviation by any created power. The stated connection between a given event and a certain set of p1iys~al antecedents, which that event is observ- ed invariably to follow, is taken as the idea of a law of Nature. Under this conception, a miracle is properly said to involve a counteraction, or suspension, or violation of natural law; for in the case of the miracle the presence of a given set * See Dr. Taylors Moral Government, Vol. II., pp. SSS, 390. f Mhllers Essay on Miracles, Caput III. 6 like Conflict with Skep4icism and Unbelief. [Jan., of physical antecedents is not followed by the usual event. When a leper is healed, as the effect of a word uttered by a human voice, the connection usually observed to subsist be- tween physical antecedent and consequent, is dissolved. If the law of Nature be this stated connection, then, of course, the natural law is suspended or violated. But there is another and more exact meaning to be given to natural law, which does not involve this consequence. What is natural law but the method in which a force or energy is observed to operate? The laws of Nature are the method of the operation of the forces which inhere in Nature. Such laws are not a norm for an energy that is outside of Nature, or is imported from without. We need not affirmwe are not authorized to affirmthat a miracle involves a change in the constitution of matter or mind, or in the law under which they act. And if it did involve such a changeso that matter, for example, were transformed into something different from mat- ter, even then the miraculous event would be no violation of the laws of matter, since matter, by the supposition, has ceased to exist, and has been displaced by a substance endowed with diverse properties. Suppose the axe to float miraculously upon the water. There is here no violation of the laws of Nature. For the extraordinary event is not due to the abuor- mal action of the energies that belono either to the water or to the iron; but is owing rather to the introduction of a new and extrinsic cause which operates according to a law of its own. There is no more violation of natural law than if the axe were upheld upon the water by the human hand. The effect which a given antecedent, or sum of antecedents, would otherwise produce, may be counteracted by the presence of other forces which are also natural. This is done whenever a stone is thrown into the air, or water raised by a pump, or lightning diverted from a building by an iron rod. In these S cases, there is not, as we conceive, any violation of natural laws. For the law of gravitation is not properly stated when it is made to involve the bringing to the earth of a stone in those circumstances under which we observe the stone to rise; and the same is true of the other examples of a supposed in- 1865.] Nature and Function of the chri8tian 3firacle8. 7. fringement of natural law. So the resurrection to life Qf a man who has once died is an effect which the natural causes connected with the event could not have produced, but, acting by themselves, must have excluded. But this change of event is not to be ascribed to an alteration of the norm under which they act, but wholly to the introduction in connection with theni of a new and supernatural cause. The effect which the physical antecedents, if left to themeelve8, would have pro- duced, is set asidein consequence, however, of an added antecedent, the divine power supernaturally exerted. We conclude, therefore, that a miracle, strictly speaking, is neither a suspension nor a violation of natural laws, but rather an event which would 1e this, were it not for the fact that with the physical antecedents there has been associated a supernat- ural agency. The English writer who deserves credit for clearly refuting the idea that a miracle suspends or violates the laws of Nature, is the Scottish philosopher, Brown.* However he may err in unwarrantably extending the sense of the term Nature (a point on which iDr. Taylor animadverts~, and how- ever defective may be his general theory of causation, his observations on the particular topic before us appear to be conclusive. 15 A MIRACLE CONTRARY TO ExPERIENCE? Here, likewise, attention is required to the meaning of terms. If experience be a synonym for the course of things as deduced from observation, then a miracle i8 contrary to expe- rience. If we are told that a leper is cured by a word from human lips, we are told of an event which is contrary to expe- riencethat is, inconsistent with what has heretofore been observed to follow upon the saiine natural antecedents. If we submit the case to experiment and reiterate the trial, using the utmost scientific caution in applying the test, no such event is observed to follow. But if the opposition to experience that is predicated of a miracle be understood to involve the idea that in asserting a * Browns Inquirq into tke Relations of Cause and Effect. Appendix, Note E. 8 The Conflict with Skepticism and Un& eliqf. [Jan., miracle we ascribe to the same set of canses an event different from that which they have always been observed to produce, then a miracle is not contrary to experience. For a miracle, we repeat, implies no contradiction to the maxim that the same effect is to be expected to follow the same causes. A miracle is, by the supposition, an event resulting from the asso- ciation of a new canse with a given set of physical antecedents. It is true that (save in the cases, the reality of which is nuder discussion) we have no experience of this association of the supernatural agency with the physical antecedents. But this last fact is better expressed by the statement that a miracle is above or beyond experiencetranscends experiencethan by the statement that it clashes with experience. That a miracle should occur when the power of God is specially exerted in connection with physical agencies, does not clash with experi- ence. THE POSSIBILITY OF MIRACLEs. The possibility of a miracle is the next topic to be consid- ered. Is it necessary to argue this point before a believer in God? Is omnipotence incompetent to produce events that out- reach the capacity of created Nature? Has He who gave existence to second causes, exhausted His resources of power in the act of producing and sustaining them? Was not the production of these causes itself a stupendous miracle? There is nothing in our knowledge of the constitution of matter, and of the internal processes of Nature, of which only the phenomena are presented to our observation, to afford the shadow of a support to the presumptuous proposition that events like the recorded iiniracles of the Bible are inherently impossible to be effected. foxy in the regular course of nature the handful of grain multiplies itself in the harvest which springs from it, is an insoluble problem. It is an inex- plicable fact which, after the closest observation of the succes- sive phenomena attending the change, we still find to be a mystery. That the five loaves should be multiplied by an agency both different from that of Nature and superior, so as to furnish food for five thousand, is another mystery, but a fact 1865.] Hature and Function of the GAristian Yifiracles. 9 which none but the atheist can consistently declare impossible. A man who would otherwise ~ink in death is restored to health through a medicinal agent administered by a physicians band. We can only point out the visible antecedents of the effect. How they do their work in the hidden laboratory of Nature, we cannot go far in explaining. We cannot pierce through the veil that hides the interior process from our eyes. In this re~pect, we believe where we cannot see or explain. But if it be asserted that the invalid can be restored in a briefer time and by the exertion of a power different from any remedial agent in the natural worldsay, by the direct voJition of Godwho is bold enough to affirm, who has the slightest ground for affirming, that the thing is impossible? That a miracle is possible is a proposition commended to credence by the survey of the actual phenomena of Nature in its various kingdoms. We see that higher forces so far control the action of lower that the latter cease to produce the effects which would result from their exclusive activity. Mechanical forces are subordinated to chemical attraction. Inorganic Nature is subjected to the operation of vital forces. Vegeta- ble and animal existences are endued with powers which are, so to speak, superior to the forces of unorganized matter. The force of gray itation, for example, gives way, or is apparently overborne, by a heterogeneous and superior agency. If we could suppose ourselves divested of all knowledge of organic Nature, we should then have the same right, no less and no more, to deny, on account of the force of gravitation, the possibility of the upward growth of a tree, as the skeptic has now to deny the possibility of a miracle. The former event would be not less foreign to experience, not less unprovided for in the existences which we had beheld, and in the causes whose operation we had observed, than is the instantaneous cure of blindness by a volition, or the raising of a dead man to life. Nature is the spectacle of realm above realm, where the subor- dinate order is taken up and embraced within the superior. Ascending from one grade to another, we meet with nexv and diverse phenomena, and with a seeming reversal of the laws which operate on the plane below. This change is due, how- 10 like C~on,/lict with Skepticisrn~ and Unbelief [Jan., ever, to the incoming and modifying agehey of a new and heterogeneous class of causes. Still more suggestive is the relation of the intelligent will of man to the forces of the unintelligent creation. Here, within the domain of Nature, effects are produced analogous to the miracle. The will in relation to the matter with which it is connected and over which it has power, is a heterogeneous and supernatural cause. The changes in matter which it pro- duces take place, to be sure, in agreement with the laws of matter, yet they are changes and effects which originated not in the sphere of matter, but in a motor outside and above material forces. A gesture of the hand is the result of a train of causesas the action of the brain, the nerve, the muscle a train, however, which begins in a volition. It is true, there is no analogy, as far as we can judge, between the influence of the will upon existences exterior to it, and the exertion of creative power. The will, in its action on matter, can modify that which already existed, but cannot call into being what is not. Here the limits of human power are reached. A miracle that involves creative power has no parallel, as far as we can judge, with any possible exertion of mans voluntary agency. But with this exception, the control of the human will over matter bears a striking resemblance to the more potent opera- tion of the Divine will, and exhibits impressively the possibility of such a miraculous operation. THE PROBABILITY OF MIRACLES: THE PRESUMPTION ADVER5E TO THE OCCURRENCE OF MIRACLES. That a miraculous event, looked at by itself, is i~nprobable, needs no proof. The incredulity which the report of such an event awakens in an educated mind, implies an anterior pre- sumption opposed to its occnrrcnce. There are some defend- ers of Christianity who are inclined to put a miracle, in regard to the proof required to establish it, on the same footing with an ordinary event. They take, as we conceive, an nutenable position, and one that is likely to harm more than it helps their cause. It is freely admitted that a presumption lies against the occurrence of a miracle. But before we can 1865.] Nature and Function of the (Ytri~stian JIhracle8. 11 measure the strength of this presumptive disbelief, we must in- quire into the sources of it. This presumption is founded in our belief in the uniformity of Nature. But what is the nature and ground of this belief? It is not, as some philosophers have held, an instinctive faith that things will continue to be as they arethat the future will reproduce the present.* For our belief in the uni- fortuity of Nature points backward, as well as forward. It re- lates to what has occurred in the past, not less than to what is expected to occur hereafter. Moreover, the supposed axiom is inexact in leaving room for the assumption of a kind of sameness in the recurrence of physical phenomena, which ex- perience disproves. For example, the climate of our latitude has not always been what it is now; nor is it now what it will be hereafter. The globe and the whole physical universe, by the mere operation of physical causes, have undergone vast and various changes. New and before unobserved phenomena have sprung into being. The saying, that things will be what they are, or have been, describes no original belief of the mind, or is, at best, a vague and inaccurate statemuent of any such belief. The presumptive disbelief of the educated mind in miracles is founded in our conviction that there is a system of Nature. Scientific investigation has inspired a belief in the sway of general laws, as opposed to preternatural intervention. The progress of science, from Thales downward, has largely con- sisted in the elimination of supposed divine interferences, and in the disclosure of an established order. One department of Nature after another has been brought within the circle of ascertained law. Phenomena, seemingly capricious, have been found to recur with a regularity not less unvarying than the succession of day and night. Events that were once thought to be wholly owing to a preternatural cause can be predicted in advance by a process of mathematics. Not two centuries ago, leading ministers of New England considered a comet to * Just objections to this form of statement are presented by J. S. Mill, in his Logic. 12 The conflict with Sicepticiern and Unbelief. [Jan., be a special messenger from God to forewarn men of punitive calamities which were impending over them.* The conviction which is excited by the results of scientific investigation, relative to the unvarying control of natural law, is not without support from another quarter. Such an arrange- ment, generally speaking, best harmonizes with our idcas of the wisdom and majesty of God. We should expect that He would stamp regularity upon the operations of Nature. Moreover, the uniformity of Naturethe exemption, in gen- eral, of Nature from supernatural interventionis a most benevolent arrangement. The fixed course of Nature is a vast and indispensable blessing to man. It is essential that we should be able to count upon the future,to anticipate the rising of the sun at a given hour, to foresee that the bread which we take for the nourishment of life will not turn out to be poisonous, to be certain that when vitality is gone there is no hope of revoking the principle of life. Were it not for the order of Nature, all human calculations would be baffled, human judgments lelt without a foundation to rest upon, and infinite disorder and confusion everywhere prevail. The ends of a wise benevolence are best met by marking out the course of Nature and leaving it to move on the apponted track. Such is the force of these considerations that we unhesita- tingly reject the testimony by which most alleged miracles are supported. In reading early l~istorians, like Herodotus, or me- dia~val chroniclers, like Gregory of Tours, or in listening to the modern necromancers, whenever we perceive, and in propor- tion as we perceive, that an event which they report in- volves a miracle, we instantaneously disbelieve the narrative. Such disbelief is felt to be the dictate of reason. * See, for example, Dr. Increase Mathers Kopiiroypa~ia, or a Discourse con- cerning C omets, wherein the Nature of BLAZING STARs is enquired into, & c., & c., with two Sermons occasioned by the late Blazing Stars. Boston: 1683. We have quoted but a small fraction of the title. In the Discourse are stated the horrible massacres, fires, plagues, tempests, hurricanes, wars, and other jndg. ments which have followed the appearance of Comets in all ages. It is an amusing instance of the fallacious confounding of the propter hoc with the post hoc. 1865.] Nature and Function of the C~hri8tian 3firacles. 13 And this aversion of the mind to give credence to a miracle is augmented by the necessity under whieh the historical stu- dent is placed, of rejecting so vast an amount of miraculous narrative. It may be said, to 1~ sure, that the evidence from testimony is defective; for such is the truth in numberless in- stances of pretended miracle. Yet, in some eases, were the events, which are too much tor our faith, unmiraculous, we should deem the testimony on which they rest to be sufficient. In these eases we deny credence simply and solely on the ground of a rational reluctance to believe in miracles. For example, we credit Herodotus in a thousand places, where the proofs apart from the character of the events reportedare no greater than those which he brings forward in relating the miraculous. We fully concede, then, that there is an antecedent, rational presumption against the truth of a narrative involving mi racle, a presumption resting proximately upon the experience of the uniformity of Nature, and ultimately upon our conviction of the wisdom and desirableness of such an arrangement; and acqniring additional force from the knowledge, which history and observation afford, of the credulity of mankind and the prevalence of superstition. How MAY THE PRESUMPTION ADVERSE TO MIRACLES BE REMOVED? The uniformity of Nature, in the sense of excluding super- rrntural intervention, is not an intuitive trutha truth of rea- son. That like causes will produce like effects is indeedas far as the physical world is concerned, for we leave out of con- sideration the willan axiom of reason. But the uniformity of Nature involves another proposition, namely, that the sum of forces operating in Nature remains the samewith no in- troduction of supernatural power. And our belief in the uni- forinity of Nature has no greater strength than belongs to the presumption that supernatural interposition will not occur. But every theist knows that supernatural interposition has occurred in the past; that all things which he beholds owe their existence to such an exertion of the Divine will. For he traces them all to an act of creation. 14 like Conflict with Skepticism and Unbeliej. [Jan., Moreover, science affords a kind of historical proof that acts of creation have occurred. The origination of all the types or species of living beings found on the earth, requires the supposition of a creative act, since Geology points back to a time when no germs of animated being existed on the globe. If the old doctrine of the original distinctness of existing species be still held, which no facts have thus far disproved, we are led to the necessary assumption of a series of creative acts. The uniformity of Nature is thus seen to be no absolute truth. But for what end does material Nature exist? Surely not for its own sake. The end for which Nature exists must be sought outside of Nature itself. Nature is only a part of a more comprehensive system. Nature is an instrument, not an end. The moral administration of God is superior and all- comprehensive. The fixed order of Nature is appointed to promote the ends of wisdom and goodness. The same motive which dictated the establishment of this order may prescribe a deviation from it; or rather may have originally determined that the natural order should at certain points give way to su- pern atural maui festation. That is to say, if the object to be secured is sufficiently corn- inanding, or, in other words, if the benefit to result outweighs all the evils which may be supposed to attend a Divine inter- vention, the antecedent presumption against the miracle is set aside and overborne. Supposing an end worthy of the intervention of God, a miracle is perfeetly consistent with the immutable character of the Divine administration. This lies in the unity of the end. The same end is pursued, but the means of attaining it are varied. Now lie makes use of Natural law, and now of special intervention. There is no disturbance of the grand harmony that pervades the Divine administration. The acts of Divine Providence, both natural and miraculous, form together one consistent whole. A commander, who com- monly issues his orders through subordinates, does not inter- fere with the ends he has in view, if he chooses, now and then, to ride over the field and personally convey his commands. 1865.] Nature and Function of Me Okri8tian, iifiracles. 15 He is guilty of no fickleness, if he alter the disposition of his forces to suit a new set of circumstances. This altera- tion may even have been embraced in his foresight. Nori~ the iRuler of the country inconsistent with himselt when he augments, or diminishes, or wholly disbands the military force which he has himself organized. For this force does not exist for its own sake. It was created for a special end outside of itself, and is moulded with sole reference to the benefit sought. A miracle is not a prodigy, a mere wonder (~-tpa~), fulfilling no moral end, a disturbance of the natural order, carrying with it no advantage. But a miracle is also a sign (o~rn~e7ov), signi- fying something, fulfilling an idea, and serving an end.* hence, a miracle implies no after-thought on the part of Godas if he resorted to a measure which He had not origi- nally purposed. In the plan of this world, miracles not less than natural events had their appointed place. The Divine being as truly determined to exert supernatural power at the point where miracles occur, as to act elsewhere through general laws. In short, miracles are fully accordant with the laws of the Universe, or of the universal system which includes God. A departure, in on& sense of the terms, from the law of Na- ture, they are yet harmonious with, and required by, the law of the Universe. The higher law prescribes their occurrence.t * Of the three terms used in the New Testament to designate a miracle, rtpa~ corresponds to miraeulu2n and denotes the subjective effect on the mind; ~ei~ov denotes the significance of the event; and iVVLiJLeLC the supernatural energies to which it must be due. 1 It is a relief to turn from the vagueness of many modern writers to the greater precision of the Schoolmen. Thomas Aquinas (Summa, P. I. Qunst. 105, Art. 6) handles the question whether God can do anything praeter ordinem rebus indutum. He explains that every order is dependent upon a cause, and that one order may be subject to another that is higher and more comprehen- sive: as the family which is dependent on the father is embraced in the city, which, in turn, is included in the kingdom. A miracle is no violation of the order of things, as dependent upon the First Cause. In another passage (P. I. Qunst. 110, Art. 4), Thomas discusses the question utrurn angeli possint facere miracula. He admits that superhuman creatnres can bring to pass events which are miracles quoad nos; that is, events which surpass the power of any created causes with which we are acquanted. But he responds to the question negatively, because a miracle, properly speaking, is praeter ordinern totius natus~w ereatcssomething, therefore, which only God can do. 16 The conflict with Skepticism and Unbelief [Jan., It will be objected that we are unqualified to say when a moral emergency that calls for a miracle is constituted. To a certain extent this may be granted. We cannot take into view the entire divine system. We may be disposed to set up a claim for the intervention of God in cases where a wiser be- ing would be of another mind. This, however, may fairly be demanded of every theist, that as he believes in an interven- tion ot~ God at the successive epochs of creation, so he shall be prepared to expect a similar intervention at epochs equally momentous in the new spiritual creation, or the redemption of mankind from their bondage to evil. The antecedent pre- sumption against the occurrence of miracles may exist in dif- ferent degrees of strength. It may, in a given set of circum- stances, be greatly weakened without wholly disappearing. But a crisis can be conceived to exist, an exigency can be con- ceived to arise, where this presumption wholly vanishes and even yields to an expectation of the opposite character. The need of Revelation, and of miracles to verify and give effect to Revelation, constitutes an occasion justifying the Divine in- tervention. THE FALLACY OF flUME 5 ARGUMENT. The preceding remarks suggest the proper answer to the rea- soning of flume against the possibility of proving a miracle. He ignores the fact of a supernatural moral government over the world of Nature and of men. ~Our belief both in the con- stancy of Nature and in human testimony, says flume, is founded on Experience. In regard to the former point, this experience is uniform, (since the cases of supposed miracle, be- ing under discussion, are not to be assumed as exceptions). In respect to the credibility of testimony, however, if we suppose apparently credible testimony to be piled never so high, no- thing more is required for believing it to be falsely given than to suppose a violation of natural lawthat is of the laws con- nected with the giving of credible testimony. But if we accept the testimony, and believe the fact it alleges, we are obliged to assume the same thino; namely, the violation of natural law. In other words, we are required by the reporters of a 1865.] Nat~tre and Function of the Christian Jlihracles. 17 nviraculous event to accept one miracle in order to avoid another! We have stated the gist of Humes argument. The fallacy does not consist in the postulate that a miracle is con- trary to experience; for there is a logical propriety in this provisional assumption. But the fallacy lies in the assumption that a miracle is just as likely to occur in the one place a~ in the other; that we may as rationally expect a miracle to be wrought in the matter of testimony. whereby the laws of evi- dence are miraculously converted into a vehicle for deceiving and misleading mankind, as to suppose a miracle in the physi- cal world, like the healing of the blind. ilumes argument is valid only on the hypothesis that God is as ready to exert su- pernatural power to make truthful men falsify, as to perform the miracles of the Gospel. Introduce the fact of a personal God, a moral Government, and a wise and benevolent end to be subserved through niiraculous interposition, and flumes reasoning is emptied of all its force.* THE SPECIAL FUNCTION OR USE OF MIRACLES. This is a topic deserving of more full exatnination. Why is Revelation attended with miracles? What particular end is subserved by supernatural manifestation in connection with Christianity? These are the questions to be considered. * Most of the opponents of Home have failed to overthrow his reasoning. As- sliming that the uniformity of Nature is ascertained from testimony, th~y have claimed that testimony does not prove this uniformity to be unvarying, and that flu me, in taking the opposite position, begs the question in dispute. If they are correct, there is no greater a priori improbatil ty of a miracle, than of a natural event; and the same amount of proof which satisfies us that a man has sunk in the water, suffices to prove that he has walked on the water or subdued the billows with a word. If they are correct, an event inexplicable by natural laws is as credible as the every-day phenomena of Nature. They forget that the uniformity of Nature is a legitimate generalization from experience. It is not a bare record of facts and observations, hut an authorized (though not abso- lute) generalization on the basis of them. It is true that J. S. Mill and philoso- phersof the Positivist type, who exclude an a priori element from induction, have no good warrant for any generalizationany dictum more comprehensive~ than the ca-sea actually observed. Hume, to he sure, is logically involvedby his philo- sophical theories in the same embarrassment. But on a sound philosophy, we are obliged to admit a presumption against miracles, which requires to be re- moved. VOL. XXIV. 2 18 The Conflict with Sk~ptici8rn and Unbelief. [Jan., It has been sometimes thought that the miracles of Christ were to prove His Divinity. But this, in our judgment, is an error. The miracles of Christ do not differ in kind from those which are attributed to the prophets of the Old Testament. By the prophets the sick were healed, and the dead revived. Nothing in the quality of the works wrought by Christ, there- fore, can authorize us to put this interpretation upon them. If we look at the teaching of the New Testament, we discover that neither Christ nor the apostles attach this peculiar signifi- cance to His miraculous works. On the contrary, they are explicitly said to be performed by the Father, or by the Father through Him. They are said to be effected by a power which, though it permanently abide in Him, was yet given Him of God. They are sometimes preceded by the offering of prayer to the Father. They are declared to be a manifestation of the power and majesty of the Father. And in keeping with these representations is the circumstance that no miraculous works proceeded from Jesus prior to the epoch of his baptism and entrance on His public ministry. The Divinity of Jesus is a truth which rests upon His testimony and that of the apostles, and not upon the fact that he performed works exceeding human power.* The old view that miracles are to authenticate the divine mission of a religions teacher, is the correct view. They are a proof which God condescends to afford, that the person by whom they are wrought is clothed with an authority to speak in His name. This being their special office, Christ never per- formed miracles for the promotion of his own personal com fort. That miracles are in this way a testimony of God, is de * The 8criptnral proof that the miracles of Christ were not to prove his Divinity, is presented more in detail in the Essay of Muller. See Mark vii. 34, John xi. 41, 42, v. 3~, ix. 25, 33, xiv. 10, xi. 40, ef. Luke ix. 43. See a!so Acts ii 22, cf. Acts x. 38. There is only one passage (John x. 11) which could be thought to suggest a different view. Bnt the d6~z which Christ manifested forth by the miracle at Cana was the Messiaxic gloryimplying, indeed, in the view of John, divinity, (see John i. 14); yet not identically the 56~a for which Christ prays in John xvii. 5. Hence John x. 11, cannot 1~e considered as inconsistent with the general tenor of the New Testament representations on this subject, which is seen in the pa~aa~es above cited, many of which are from John. 18E~5.] Nature and Function cf the Ohri8tian llfiracles. 19 dared by the Saviour. The works which the Father hath given me to finish, the same works that I do, bear witness of me, that the Father hath 8ent me.~~* If thou be the Christ, tell us plainly, Jesus answered them, 1 told you and ye be- lieved not: the works that. I do in my Fathers name, they bear witness of me. ~ We need not cite the numerous passages in which the miracles are set forth as the proper signs of Messiahship. An emphatic example is the response of Jesus to the messengers who came from John the Baptist with the question whether He was indeed the Christ. The miracles of Christ, then, are the testimony of God to His supernatural, divine mission; and the miracles of the Apostles have a similar design and import.t Ts this end unimportant? Surely, if the Christian religion is important, it is essential that its authoritative character should be established. Whether the doctrine is of God, or Christ speaks of himself; whether the Gospel is only one more experiment in speculation; one more effort of erring reason to * John v. 36. t John x. 24, 25. ~ Muller has attempted, as we think, successfully, to show that the miracles of Christ were also intended to be symbolical of his spiritual agency, and of rela- tions in his spiritual kingdom. The miracles of healing symbolized, and com- mended to faith, his ability to cure the soul of its disorders. The feeding of the multitude set forth the possihility, through Him, of accomplishing great things in His cause hy apparently insignificant means. I-us resurrection from the dead is a standing symbol, in the writings of Paul, for the spiritual awakening from the death of sin. That the miracles of Christ, hesides the principal end of authenticating his mission, had other collateral motives and ends, is not questioned. They un- doubtedly serve to impress the ~rnind with the fact of the personality of God. They are thus an antidote to Pantheistic sentiment, as well as to the Deism which puts God far off. They are, also, a natural expression of the compassionate feel- ings of Christ toward all in distress. Says Chastel, in his excellent Etudes Historiques, upon the Influence of Charity in the early Church, p. 30, Oest parce que Jesus ai~nait que, tout en publiant la nouvelle du royanme des Cieux, ii guSrissait, dit lhistorien, les maladies et les langueurs du peuple (Matt. iv. 23, 24). Cette mdmo compassion qui le saisissait a in vue de in foule errante et sans guide, (Matt. ix. 36), lattendrissait aussi sur dautres sonifrances; ii allait de lien en lieu faisant du biea et laissant partout des marques de son in6puisable sympathie. This is true; yet there was another, which was, also, the principal mutive,the attestation of his messianic mission and office. 20 The Conflict with Skeptici8mn and Unbelief. [Jan., solve the problems of life, is surely a question of capital importance. Some writers at the present day affect to consid- er this question of no moment. But every sober and practical mind desires, first of all, to know if the Gospel can be de- pended upon. The authority and certainty of the Christian system are of inestimable value; and these are guaranteed by miracles. While it is the office of the Christian miracles to verify the supernatural, divine mission of Christ, we are far from consid- ering that they are the exclusive, or even the foremost, proof of this great truth; or even that, by themselves, they are ade- quate to the production of an inward faith. But of their rela- tion to the other sources of Christian evidence, we shall speak more fully under another head. A recollection of the end for which miracles are wrought, will expose the fallacy of the current skeptical objection that miracles would imply a flaw in the constitution of niaterial Nature, which needs to be repaired through a special inter- vention. The need of miracles is not founded on the exist- ence of any defect in Nature. The system of Nature is good and is worthy of God. It is fitted, in itself considered, to dis- close the attributes of the Creator and to call forth feelings of adoration in the human mind. The defect is not in Nature. But the mind of man is darkened so that this primal revelation is obscurely discerned; his character, moreover, is corrupted beyond the power of self-recovery, in consequence of his apos- tasy from God. Now, if God shall mercifully approach with new light and new help, why shall He not verify to man the fact of His presence, by supernatural manifestations of his power and goodness? In this ease, Nature is used as an in- strument for an ulterior moral end. The miracle is not to remedy an imperfection in Nature, but is, like the Revelation which it serves to attest, a product of the condescension of God. He condescends to address evidence to the senses or to the understanding through the senses, in order to open a way for the conveyance of the highest spiritual blessing to man- kind. Material Nature, be it remembered, ~does not include 1865.] Hature and Function of the Chri8tian .Afiracles. 21 the end of its existence in itself. It is a subordinate member of a vaster system, and has only an instrumental value. Of a piece with the objection just noticed, is the vague representation that something sacred is violated by a miracle. Hurne styled a miracle a trctnsgre88ion of natural law skillfully availing himself of a word which usually denotes the infringement of a moral law, and so carries with it an associa- tion of guilt.* Several recent writers have more directly pro- pounded a like notion. Such views may be pertinent under a scheme of sentimental Pantheism where Nature is deified. Only he who holds, with Spinoza, that Nature is God, can deem a miracle repugnant to the attributes of God. When the attempt is made to connect such notions with any higher theory of the universe, they deserve no respect, but rather con- tempt. As if it were derogatory to the Divine Being to save a human life by any other than physical agencies, even when the principal end to be attained is the verification of a heaven- given remedy for the soul and for the disorders which sin has brought into it! THE RELATION OF MIRACLES TO THE MORAL PROOF5 OF CHRIST- IANITY. The question has often been discussed whether the strongest proof of the divine origin of Christianity is found in its doctrine or its miracles. Some have gone so far as to say that the doGtrine proves the miracles, not the miracles the doctrine. The truth on the subject has been more properly set forth in the aphorism of Pascal: Doctrines must be judged by miracles; miracles must be judged by doctrines. It is plain that a doctrine which the unperverted conscience pronounces immoral or inconsistent with the perfections of God, cannot be received on the ground of alleged or supposed miracles attending it. This principle is declared in the Bible itself, in a memorable injunction given to the Israehites.t We must conclude, to be sure, that all wonders, which the teacher of such doctrine performs, are lying wonders ; that they are * Humes Essays, Vol. IJ., Appendix, K. 1 Deuteronomy xiii, 14. 22 like Conjijet with Skepticism and Unbelief. [Jan., either the product of jugglery or are wrought by snp~rnatural evil beings whose force surpasses that of men, and who are, therefore, able to counterfeit the works of divine power. In accordance with the tendency of this principle, is the re- ply of Jesus to the charge that his miracles were wrought by the power of Satan. He does not deny that works, surpassing the power of men, may he done through the aid of devils; but he responds to the charge by a moral consideration. An evil being would not work against himself and exert power against his own minions. So much is clear, then, that a doctrine must he negatively unobjectionable on the score of morality or of moral tendency, in order to challenge our faith, whatever wonderful works may attend the annunciation of it. But a still more positive and important place belongs to doctrine in the evidence for the divine origin of Christianity. The foregoing discussion has evinced that in order to prove Tniracles, the anterior presumption adverse to their occurrence must be set aside. The necessity of Revelation and of a method of Salvation which man is unable to originate, par- tially prepares the mind to expect miracles. But the contents of the professed iRevelation are of not less moment in their bearing on this anterior expectation. The more excellent the doctrine, the more it seems to surpass the capacity of the unaided human faculties; the more it appears adapted to the necessities of our nature; in fine, the more worthy it is to have God for its author, so much the more creJibility is given to the miracles ~i~hich, it is claimed, have accompanied it. The doctrine and the miracles are two mutually supporting species of evidence. The more the mind is struck with the divine excellence of the doctrine, the more likely does it seem that this doctrine should be attended with miracles. If the doctrine is noble, and worthy, and sufficient, we naturally look for miracles, and only require that they shall be recommended to belief by faithful testimony. In these remarks we have compared the doctrine with the miracles, as sources of proof. The moral proofs of Christ- ianity, however, comprehend much more than what is under- 1865.] 2Wdure and Fanction of the Okristian~ illiraele8. 23 stood by Christian doctrine. As affecting the presumption relative to the occurrence of miracles, we must take into view the character of Jesus, the entire spirit and plan of his life, all the circumstances connected with the planting of Christ- ianity in the world. It is unwarranted and unwise to isolate one element of Christianity, as the miracles, or the doctrine, from the other elements which are connected with it, and form, as it were, one vital whole. Christ and Christianity, as they are presented in the New Testament Scriptures, stand out as one complex phenomenon, which we are called upon to~ explain. Nothing can be appreciated by itself, but everything must be looked at in its organic relation. The moral evidence of the supernatural origin of Christianity includes the teach- ing of Christ and the Christian system of doctrine, but it embraces much moremuch that is inseparably associated with the doctrine. Farther still, we are required to consider Christianity in the light of a mighty historic movement, beginning in the remote past, extending in a continuous progress through many ages, culminating in the advent and life of Christ, and in the estab- lishment of his church, but flowing onward in its effects, through an ever widening channel, down to the present day. We have to contemplate the striking peculiarity of this great historic movement, which embraces the unfolding, through successive stages, or epochs, of a religion distinct in its spirit as well as in its renovating power from all other religions known among men. And we have to connect with this view a survey of its subsequent diffusion and leavening influence in human society. Comparing this religion with the native characteristics of the people among whom it appeared, and from whose hands the priceless treasure was at length delivered to mankind, we are to ask ourselves if this religion, so pure and salutary, so enduring and influential, so strong as to survive temporary eclipse and withstand through a long suc- cession of ages, before the full light appeared, an adversary as poxverful as human barbarism and corruption, can be the pro- duct of in ans invention. And whatever reason there is for re 24 The Conflict with Skepticism. and Unbelief [Jan., jecting this supposition as irrational, is so nmch argument for the Christian miracles. It deserves remark that miracles appear especially at the signal epochs in the progress of the gradually developing system of religion. This circumstance has been pointed out by Christian apologists.* In connection with Moses, who marks an era in the ~communication of the true religion; then, after a long interval, in connection with the prophets who in- troduce an era not less peculiar and momentous, and then, after a long suspension of miraculous manifestation, in con- junction with the final and crowning epoch of Revelation, with the ministry of Christ and the founding of the Church, the supernatural is seen to break into the course of history. There is an impressive analogy between the spiritual creation or renewal of humanity, and the physical creation, where suc- cessive eras are inaugurated by the exertion of supernatural agency in the introduction of new species, and after each epoch history is remanded, as it were, to its natural course in pursuance of an established order. Miracle would seem to be the natural expression and verification of an openiug era in the spiritual enlightenment of mankind, when new forces are introduced by the great Author of light and life, and a new development sets in. It is sometimes urged that if miracles are necessary in the original communication of Christianity, they are not less to be expected in the propagation of it. And the question is asked why we refuse to give credit to reports of more modern mira- cles, or why such miracles are not wrought now in conjunction with missionary labor? We do not consider the supposition that miracles have been wrought since the Apostolic age to be so absurd as many seem to regard it. So thorough a historical critic as Keander hesitates to disbelieve the testimony to the miracles said to be performed by that devout and holy preach- er, St. Bernard, and so great a man as Edmund Burke takes the same ground in respect to the miracles attributed to early * See Dr. A. P. Peabodys Christianity, the Religion of Nature. 1865.] Nature and Function of the Ohri8t?~an Miracles. 25 Saxon missionaries in Britain. But there is generally a defect in the character of the testimony, in the habits of careful observation, or of trustworthy reporting, which, apart from other considerations, prdvents us from giving credit to the Catholic miracles. Besides this, however, there is another consideration of almost decisive weight. The origination of Christianity, a method of salvation, is beyond human power; not so the propagation of the religion which is once communi- cated. We agree that the general method of the divine gov- ernment is that of leaving men to discover for themselves what the unaided human faculties are competent to find out. The laws of astronomy, the physical structure and history of the globe, with all the sciences and arts which belong to civiliza- tion, it is left for human investigation, in the slow toil of cen- turies, to develop. But the true knowledge of God was practi- cally inacessible; salvation was something which fallen man could not achieve of himself It accords, therefore, with the method of God to ~leave the diffu8ion of the blessings of Christianity, when they are once communicated, to the agency of men, withholding miraculous (though not supernatural) assistance to their endeavors.* It is plain that in the divine administration there is what has been called an economy, or sparing use, of miracle. The Saviours whole manner of speak- ing on the subject, as well as the course which he pursned, appears to indicate that miracles are an accommodation to human weakness, and are granted in response to an unwonted exigency. Comparing oursclves, or any heathen nation, with the age contemporary with Christ, we find ourselves in pos- session of other proofs derived from the operation of Christ- ianity in the world, which may well stand in the room of any ocular demonstration of its heavenly origin. * That supernatural agency of God which is not menifestly supernatural, hut which is so connected with the operation of natural causes that its presence is not palpable, we do not style miraculous. To this supernatural, but not miraculous, agency, belongs the Regeneration and Sanctification of the souL Providential answers to prayer may fall under the same headto prayer, for instance, for the restoration of the sick. 26 The Conftict with Skeptici8m. and Unbelief [Jan., The foregoing remarks will prepare the reader for the obser- vation that iniracles are an inferior species of proof; compared with the moral evidence of the divine origin of Christianity, and, independently of the impression made by this last kind of evidence, must fail to convince. Such is undeniably the rank assigned to miracles by the Saviour himself. Apart from mir- acles, there was proof of his divine mission, as he considered, which ought to satisfy the mind. But if this proof left the mind still skeptical, he pointed to the miracles. Believe me that I am in the Father, and the.Father in me; or el8e believe me for the very works sake.~* A weak faith, an inchoate faith, miracles might confirm. Where there was a receptive temper, some degree of spiritual susceptibility, miracles were a provocative and aid of faith. But where there was an entire insensibility to the moral side of the Gospel, or an absence of any such craving for the truth as gave it a de- gree of selfevidencing power, the Saviour refused to work miracles. Miracles have for such minds no convincing ef- ficacy. They would be referred either to occult natural causes or to diabolical agency. Miracles could develop and reinforce the faith which moral evidence had partially awakened. They could not create that faith outright. They could not serve as a substitute for the proofs which touch di- rectly the reason and conscience. They could not kindle spir- itual life under the ribs of death. They were an appeal to the senses, symbolizing the spiritual operation of the Gospel, and subordinately aiding the confidence of the darkened soul in the divine reality of the Gospel. All the teaching of Christ concerning the place and use of his miracles, and concerning the comparative value and dignity of the proof from miracles and from the moral evidence of his divine mission, corroborates the doctrine we have laid down, that the former are subsidiary and secondary, and are due to the condescension of God, who affords an extraordinary prop, and one we have properly no right to demand, to that hesitating, incomplete faith which has been excited by the superior appeals flowing directly from the Christian system itself and the character of its Author. * John xiv. 11. 18~35.] The Atonement as the Basis of Redemption. 27 ARTICLE 11.THE ATONEMENT AS THE BASIS OF RE DEMPTION. STRANGE, said Abelard, that God should be reconciled to men by the death of his Son, which ought to have incensed him the more against them. To remove this strangeness, to show how God is prppitiated by the Atonement; or (drop- ping every expression that implies change in the Eternal mind), to show what the Atonenient has to do with Gods will- ingness to pardon; in what relation the atoning purpose stands in Gods own nature, to Love, on the one hand, and Justice on the otherthis is the great problem of the Atonement. In a previous Article* we attempted a solution. If we failed, we do not stand alone, for surely many have failed before us. Perhaps the chief value of a right solution lies in its bear- ing on the question which we now propose to take up. How is man reconciled to God by the Atonement? What is the connection between the Atonement and Redemption? Retaining as the fundamental idea of the Atonement, the Revelation of Gods character in that work of christ which manifests his Love, and both man?fests and satisfies his Jus- tice,we add the following as the definition of iRedemption: Restoration from~ the fail, and exaltation to heavenly bliss. It is not simple restoration. It is not enough to say that God made the world right side np; the Devil turned it upside down; and God in redemption sets it right side up again. The redeemed man is not an Adam in Eden, but a saint in heaven. The word redemption is often used to denote both the process in man and the divine plan and means by which the process is carried on, but redemption as a matter of his- tory, as a fact in time, is the completed process of salvation, as is indicated in Eph. iv. 30: Whereby ye are sealed unto the day of redemption. Atonement and Redemption are then easily distinguishable. Atonement terminates in God; redemption in man. Atonement *The Atonement as a Revelation. New Englander, April, 1864, Vol. xxiii., p. 265.

18~35.] The Atonement as the Basis of Redemption. 27 ARTICLE 11.THE ATONEMENT AS THE BASIS OF RE DEMPTION. STRANGE, said Abelard, that God should be reconciled to men by the death of his Son, which ought to have incensed him the more against them. To remove this strangeness, to show how God is prppitiated by the Atonement; or (drop- ping every expression that implies change in the Eternal mind), to show what the Atonenient has to do with Gods will- ingness to pardon; in what relation the atoning purpose stands in Gods own nature, to Love, on the one hand, and Justice on the otherthis is the great problem of the Atonement. In a previous Article* we attempted a solution. If we failed, we do not stand alone, for surely many have failed before us. Perhaps the chief value of a right solution lies in its bear- ing on the question which we now propose to take up. How is man reconciled to God by the Atonement? What is the connection between the Atonement and Redemption? Retaining as the fundamental idea of the Atonement, the Revelation of Gods character in that work of christ which manifests his Love, and both man?fests and satisfies his Jus- tice,we add the following as the definition of iRedemption: Restoration from~ the fail, and exaltation to heavenly bliss. It is not simple restoration. It is not enough to say that God made the world right side np; the Devil turned it upside down; and God in redemption sets it right side up again. The redeemed man is not an Adam in Eden, but a saint in heaven. The word redemption is often used to denote both the process in man and the divine plan and means by which the process is carried on, but redemption as a matter of his- tory, as a fact in time, is the completed process of salvation, as is indicated in Eph. iv. 30: Whereby ye are sealed unto the day of redemption. Atonement and Redemption are then easily distinguishable. Atonement terminates in God; redemption in man. Atonement *The Atonement as a Revelation. New Englander, April, 1864, Vol. xxiii., p. 265. 28 The Atonement as the Basis of Redemption. [Jan., propitiates; redemption saves. Atonement harmonizes Gods attributes; redemption harmonizes man with God. Atonement opens heaven; redemption fills it. Atonement is wholly objec- tive, presupposing no change of character in man,Light shin- ing, though the darkness comprehend it not (John i. 6); redemp- tion wholly subjective, Light within, (Eph. v. 8). Atonement is a cause; redemption the effect. That fountain which, had its streams been utterly lost in the arid desert of human sin, would have sparkled forever near the throne of God with the beauty and glory of Divine forgivenessthat fountain is the Atonement. But its streams are not lost; they are filling the world with beauty and fruitfulness. This is the beginning of Redemption. In discussing the connection between the Atonement and Redemption, we set aside at the outset, as inadequate, the two following views: 1. That the influence of the Atonement upon the actnal course of redemption is confined to the view which it affords of the inexorableness of Divine justice without expi-~ ation, and of the greatness of Divine Love in undertaking the necessary expiation. This view is inadequate on the side of justice, because it omits from the Atonement the example of Christs holy life, and emphasizes only the necessity of some atonement. At the cross we see how much was required to remove the obsta- cles which in Gods own heart justice puts in the way of love, and that is all. But what we seek is, not simply the influence of Gods justice on the hearts of men as seen in the need of propitiation, but the influence and scope of that particular mode of propitiation found in the Atonement. How is the process of Atonement connected with the process of Redemp- tion? This view is also inadequate on the side of Love, because it rests in the simplefact of Divine love, without showing how that love reaches human hearts tkrough tke Atonemnent. It fails to show the wisdom of the Atonement considered as a means of securing a response from man to the love of God. In general the view fails to connect intimately the work of the Holy Spirit with the atoning work of Christ. There is a mere succession of offices. Atonement being finished, the Holy Spirit is at liberty to enter on his work. He renews and 1865.] The Atonement as the Basis of Redemption. 29 saves man, using the atonement only as a means of impressing upon the heart Gods inexorable justice and boundless mercy. Whatever other use lie makes of the earthly life of Jesus, is outside of the Atonement. 2. The other view, which we set aside, nearly identifies Re- demption with Atonement. According to this view the aton- ing work of Christ did not end on Calvary, but extends to the end of human history. He atones by reconciling us to God, making us at one with him. The view of such a blessed re- sult is all the propitiation that God requires, and the work it- self under the inspiring life of Jesus needs no other govern- mental expedient to steady it. We set this view aside because if Redemption is Atonement, then we cannot reasonably speak of the connection between the two. Moreover the concurrent testimony of scripture makes the atonement finished at the death of Christ; and even if it be granted that redemption is propitiatory as truly as the atonement, yet it would be only a finite addition to an infinite propitiation. If the Atonement was finished at Jesus death, then Redemption is not Atonement. We have not ascribed the foregoing views to particular au- thors, hoping thereby to escape misrepresentation. If no one will own them, let them stand as iinaguary errorsa mere foil for the truth. Nor do we mean to imply that they exhaust what has been written on this subject. IMlucli that is current will be found, we hope, in what follows. We deprecate an originality which finds nothing right and good in that which is common. We wish now to exhibit the main points of connection be- tween Atonement and Redemption, and we hope to find not only a succession of events~ not only an outside connection, ~ con nection as a whole, but a close internal connection; and that the Atonement not only opens the way to salvation, but is the way; that the atoning work of Christ in both its super- natural and moral features is linked with the work of recover- ing and saving man; that the ladder on which God descends to earth, is the very same on which man ascends to heaven. Our first proposition is: I. Rede?nptiom has its starting-point and germ in the In- 30 The Atonement as the Basis of Iledemption. [Jan., carnation, in rescuing the human nature of the Son of iWary. Humanity was employed by Deity in making Atonement. That it might be so employed, a vital and indi& ~oluble union was effected. Now what was the moral condition of this hu- inanity so employed, and to be retained forever in union with Deity? It was sinless. God would not make a polluted nature the organ of his atoning work, and would not retain such pollu- tion in eternal alliance with himself. The human nature of Jesus was sinless from the first. The address to Mary ~vasthat holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God. Luke i. 35. The very union of God with human na- ture, at its first touch brings perfect holiness. But if the hu- man nature of Christ was perfectly holy from the first, what shall we call the process by which this holiness was secured ? Was it not restoration from thefall? Without this union of natures, Marys son would have been a sinner as she herself was. Here then was a case of Redemption. If not, then there never was one, and never will be. All suppositions about a hun-ian soul, specially created for the incarnation, are purely oratuitous and inconsistent with the simple narrative, but if any believe in the immediate creation of all human souls, they may still see redemption here, in that the human soul of Jesus was, after its creation, rescued or prevented from a conrse of sin. In the incarnation we find this one great FACT, that for the first time since the fall of Adam, there is a human soul in our world perfectly free from sin. Here is no theory, but, a glorious fact; no mere possibility of redemption, but redemp. tion itself. It may be felt as an objection that all this took place before the Atonement was completed, and that the process was entirely different from Redemption in other cases. But as to the mat- ter of Lime, it is enough to say that the Redemption of Christs human nature was not completed till the redemption of his body in the resurrection, i. e. till after the Atonement. As to the difference in mode or process, of what account is this dif- ference so long as the result is the same? Could not God re- deem one by incorporating it into a special union with himself, and redeem others through that one in a different way? It is 1865.1 f/ike Atonement as the Basis of Redemption. 31 natnral that the beginning of Redemption should be different from its continuance; that the seed germ should differ from the mere branch. As the first Adam commenced his being differently from all his descendants and yet shared their nature, so the second Adam commenced differently from all his spirit- ual seed, yet are they one. As the first Adam commenced the race without guilt, so the second commenced Redemption with- out pardon. This fact then stands as the first great fact of redemption, that the human nature of Christ is redeemed by that act of incarnation which is the starting point of the Atonement. The process of Atonement wraps up in itself, as a seed its germ, the first outgrowth of Redemption. IT. Redemption extends /rom the human nature of Christ over the race, supernaturally by the Holy Spirit, and morally by the example of Christ. Our starting point, where we may stand firmly, is the actual redemption of a portion of humanity by the Incarnation. But how shall the rest of humanity be reached? Not by a repetition of the incarnation in the case of each individual saved. This would deprive Christ of his rank as Second Adam. It would make him only the Saviour of himself. SJiall redemption spread by natural descent? This would be flagrantly contrary to fhct. Who shall declare his genera- tion? for he was cut off out of the land of the living. Is. liii. 8. The character of the First Adam goes by descent, but that of the Second by the Spirit. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. John iii. 6. Some of the passages which speak of the supernatural con- iiection between Christ and men are the following: In whom ye also are builded together for an habitation of God through the Spirit. Eph. ii. 22. But ye are not in the flesh but in the spirit, if so be that the Spirit of God dwell in yon. Now, if any man have not the Spirit of Christ lie is none of his. Romn. 8. 9. Now ye are the body of Christ. 1 Cor. xii. 27. The first man Adam was made a living soul; the last Adam was made a quickening spirit. 1 Cor. xv. 45. 32 The Atonement as the Basis of Redemption. [Jan., We may add that a presumption arises from the supernat- uralness of the Incarnation that there would be a supernatural element in all cases of redemption. It was said to Mary, The 11oiy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the same Holy Ghost, though in a different operation, unites believers to the Incarnate One. Parallel with the supernatural in Christ, which commenced in Incarnation, and ended on earth in the resurrection, runs the supernatural and Spiritual in man, corn- mencing in regeneration and ending on earth in his resur- rection. But the supernatural is not alone. With the Spirit goes the word, and especially the example of Jesus, which the Spirit ever uses to bring men to the image of the Son. This example stands apart from alt others in two respects; first, it is a perfect human example. Jesus stands before the race a faultless model. Who can estimate the power of this? Secondly, it is pervaded and glorified by the manifestation of Godhead. Divine love shines from the glorious life and the glorious death of Jesus, and with it is blended Divine justice obeying the behests of the infinitely holy law, and tasting its curse with infinite humiliation. But this revelation of God shining through the glorified veil of perfect humanity is, we think, the Atonement. Here, then, Atonement and IRedemnption join in the work of the Holy Spirit that unites men to the Atoning Person, and stamps the features of his work upon their hearts. To be more particular, III. like union of believers with Christ, by the Spirit, cor- responds to the supernatural features of the Atonement, and gives a share in Christs destiny and character. This union or connection may be illustrated by the connec- tion between father and child. In the one case the bond is natural by birth, in the other it is spiritual by the new birth. The results of this union we will state in brief outline, quoting for each particular a text in which this work of the Spirit is alluded to. Believers being united to Christ share in his legal standing. There is, therefore, now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus who walk not after the flesh but after the 1865.1 The Atonement as the Basis of Redemption. 33 i5jpirit. ibm. viii. 1. This is astate of justification, impu- tation being a hypothetical (legal fiction?) basis for justifica- tion. Believers share in Christs outward condition, being raised from the dead with a body like .unto his glorious body, and joint heirs with him to eternal glory. If the spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you. IRom. viii. 11. Believers share in Christs fhmily standing and filial spirit. He is pre~minently the Son of God, but when he leaves the world he says, m~y Father and your Father. And in this the Spirit is concerned, for we read As many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God. iRom. viii. 14. This is receiving adoption. Believers share also in Christs holiness. But ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus and by the Spirit of our God. 1 Cor. vi. 11. When he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. 1 John iii. 2. This is perfect sanctification. Nor xviii it be a transient possession. Our free-will will not be simply restored to the dangerous equipoise of Adams xviii, but exalted to the freedom of Christs fixed choice. IV. Conversion is the free response of the soul to the moral features qf the Atonement. At conversion the soul experiences chiefly Faith, Repentance, and Love. Faith is a response to the truthf~alness and sincerity of God in his manifestation through Christ. This is fundamental. Unbelief denies the presence of God in Christ, denies that the true and only way of salvation is by the Atonement, and thus cuts off the soul from Redemption. Faith takes God at his word, and hears his word from the lips of Christ. Repentance is a response to the justice revealed in the Atonement. Divine justice has been often revealed in other ways, but never in a way worthy to be compared with the work of Christ. Holy and righteous, says the penitent, is my Saviour. Holy, just, and good is the law which he VOL. XXIV. 3 34 The Atonement a~ the Bct8i8 of Redemption. [Jan., obeyed, and under which he suffered. His justice I love, his law I honor. Wherefore I abhor myself and repent in dust and ashes. Love is a response to the unspeakable love and mercy reveal- ed in the Atonement. We love him because he first loved us. I John iv. 19. Thus in Faith, Repentance, and Love, the soul freely takes Christ, and in responding to his Atonement finds in itself re- demption begun; and in the same free and joyful response to Christ and his work does it go on to perfection. A word may be required on the point that the holy under the old dispensation could not respond to the Atonement. They responded to an imperfect foreshadowing of the Atone- ment. There were with them supernatural manifestations of God, though no incarnation; there were sacrifices, though not the sacrifice. There was revelation enough to call out respon- ses to Gods truth, justice, and saving mercy, and there was genuine faith, repentance, and love. Yet they were not made perfect God having provided some better thing for us, that they without us should not be made perfect. Heb. xi. 40. If our object in this Article has been gained, we have shown the value of the Atonement not only as a moral power, but as a vehicle of spiritual grace. We have kept in view both the supernatural arid moral features of redemption, though without attempting to adjust them minutely to each other; for who is equal to that task? We have emphasized the supernatural be- cause its relation to the Atonement is often overlooked. We have endeavored to show the relation of the Spirit to the person of Christ. God did not become incarnate in a church, hut in a per8on. That Person draws to him other persons, and the Holy Spirit is the bond of union. Here is the wonderful sim- plicity, beauty, and strength of the way of salvation; simple as the tie of friendship, beautiful with the glory of Jesus character, strong as the power of the Holy Ghost. If we would defend well the doctrine of a Divine Person in Christ- ianity, we tiiust see clearly that the life of each redeemed soul is derived from Him. 1865.] like Revival qf Letters. 35 ARTICLE 111.THE REVIVAL OF LETTERS IN THE FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES. PART 1.To THE MIDDLE OF CENTURY X\T.~( Continued). WITH the first years of the fifteenth een tury a new start in the progress of humanism may be detected. Those influences, which it was the part of Petrarch especially to put into motion, not only grew in extent and power, but seemed now to be- come possessed of a new spring, as if the seed planted in the earlier age was just hearing fruit. How much of this quick- ened pace was due to the influences proceeding from John of IRavenna and Chrysoloras, we will not try to ascertain. It is more important to notice the historical events which at this time, and through the half century down to 1453, the year of Constantinoples fall, or 1455, the year when Pope Nicholas died, concnrred to promote the revival of classical learning. In 1378 occurred the division in the papacy. The claims of the two sees started discnssion, and rendered more negotiation necessary; apostolical secretaries and orators of a higher character came into demand; and, indeed, the lively political interconrse of Italy at this time in which the smaller lords, as well as the larger states of Naples, Milan, Venice, Florence, and Rome played a part, quickened and, so to speak, modernized the minds f men, giving them a breadth and largeness favorable to the spread of the new kind of learning. The attempt to heal the schism at Pisa, in 1409, was succeeded by the great council of Constance in 1414, at which many of the most culti- vated men of Italy were gathered. Here wits were sharpen- ed; here the zeal which had slumbered a while for the dis- covery of Latin manuscripts awoke again; here those mem- bers of the assembly and their secretaries, who had felt the re- finino- influences of the previous age, had a field in which they could show their superior education. The council was fol- lowed by the longer one of Basel in 1431, by the summoning of a council at Ferrara in 1437, and a new schism. Tn 1439,

1865.] like Revival qf Letters. 35 ARTICLE 111.THE REVIVAL OF LETTERS IN THE FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES. PART 1.To THE MIDDLE OF CENTURY X\T.~( Continued). WITH the first years of the fifteenth een tury a new start in the progress of humanism may be detected. Those influences, which it was the part of Petrarch especially to put into motion, not only grew in extent and power, but seemed now to be- come possessed of a new spring, as if the seed planted in the earlier age was just hearing fruit. How much of this quick- ened pace was due to the influences proceeding from John of IRavenna and Chrysoloras, we will not try to ascertain. It is more important to notice the historical events which at this time, and through the half century down to 1453, the year of Constantinoples fall, or 1455, the year when Pope Nicholas died, concnrred to promote the revival of classical learning. In 1378 occurred the division in the papacy. The claims of the two sees started discnssion, and rendered more negotiation necessary; apostolical secretaries and orators of a higher character came into demand; and, indeed, the lively political interconrse of Italy at this time in which the smaller lords, as well as the larger states of Naples, Milan, Venice, Florence, and Rome played a part, quickened and, so to speak, modernized the minds f men, giving them a breadth and largeness favorable to the spread of the new kind of learning. The attempt to heal the schism at Pisa, in 1409, was succeeded by the great council of Constance in 1414, at which many of the most culti- vated men of Italy were gathered. Here wits were sharpen- ed; here the zeal which had slumbered a while for the dis- covery of Latin manuscripts awoke again; here those mem- bers of the assembly and their secretaries, who had felt the re- finino- influences of the previous age, had a field in which they could show their superior education. The council was fol- lowed by the longer one of Basel in 1431, by the summoning of a council at Ferrara in 1437, and a new schism. Tn 1439, 343 The Revival of Letters in the [Jan., Pope Eugenius moves the seat of this Council to Florence, and here a main, work was the attempt to unite the Greek church, now almost overwhelmed by the advancing Turks, with the Latin. This brought on discussions between the two churches, and collected in Italy a number of Greeks who afterwards re- mained there to diffuse Greek learning. Nor was it a small thing at this time that the sojourn of the Pope for some years was in Florence, by which means the humanistic spirit of that city penetrated the papal court, and paved the way for the movement in favor of ancient letters at IRome under Nicholas V. The influence now begins to pervade all Italy, even the smaller courts patronize the men possessed of a more brilliant kind of learning, and their lords feel that they cannot be respectable without one or more persons at their court who can adorn thesn by the new refinement. The lead in this patronage of letters was taken, as we have already said, by Cosimo de Medici, the first private citizen of Florence. Born in 1389, lie inherited great wealth from his father Giovanni, and a foremost position in the popular or democratic party. He was educated by iRoberto dci I~ossi, to whom we have had occasion to refer,a nobleman who was concerned in all the movements for the advancement of letters in Florence, and held a school in his own house for the sons of the higher classes. Cosimo acquired a good knowledge of Latin, was cultivated by travel,he visited the Council of Constance in his youth, and thence passed into Germany and France, staying nearly two years beyond the mountains,and still more, gained knowledge by the experience of political life, and by the vast transactions of his banking establishment. In 1438 the aristocratical fttction banished him, and he spent about a year at Venice. He returned to enjoy uninterrupted quiet, to receive the esteem of his fellow-citizens and of all Italy, to govern Florence by his weight of character and posi- tion, rather than by authority, and to be called the Father of his country at his death. Cosimo was grave in his words, simple in his manners and style, smoothly diplomatic towards strangers, a man of insight - and of practical knowledge. His patronage of letters con- 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. 37 sisted in encouragement by familiar converse and gitts of money to men of letters, in purchasing manuscripts or in hay- ing them copied for the library of the Dominican convent of St. Mark, or the Medicean library, as it was called, in founding a Platonic academyin short, his money and influence were constantly devoted to this object. Not a scholar himself we use the words of Yoigt but mentally stimulated in various ways and well read, quick of comprehension, with a fine sense of beauty, he was with all this inclined to put a due value on the scientifi~ merits even of the driest minds. The industrious critic who copied and compared the rare manu- script, the poet whose fingers rolled off hexameters with genial facility, the teacher of the elements of language, the translator from Greek, the deeply learned philosopher and theologian, the artist who drew plans of churches, palaces, villas, and bridges, or adorned them with statues and pictures, all belonged in the eyes of Cosimo as links to one and the same chain. Their works ornamented the town, made the state illustrious. Among the men whom Cosimo employed more or less was one Vespasiano, a bookseller, called learned by Tiraboschi. The lives of illustrious men, one hundred and three in num- ber, written by this man, a simple hearted undiscriminating work, was first published in 1839, by Cardinal iMIai. We have read with pleasure a number of the lives, but it seems to us that the authority of the man ought not to be relied upon, where his facts lie beyond his own sphere. But the principal friend and factotum of Cosimo, in the purchase of books, was Niccol6 Niccoli, the son of a Florentine merchant, who, content with a moderate inheritance, gave him- self up to study, to the companionship of scholars and to virta. His zeal for learning was more an outside zeal per- haps, and an eager curiosity for new manuscript treasures, than one built on real scholarship; whether it was his exquisite taste or some peculiar self distrust, he rarely committed his thoughts to Latin, and he had little or no knowledge of Greek. But his house, where he lived unmarried with a single female servant, and where his taste was shown in a collection 38 The Revival of Ietler8 in tke [Jan., of antique curiosities, served as a kind of centre for the literati of Florence and for strangers, and his friendships or his quarrels, for he seems to have had a bitter domineering temper, figure largely in the literary correspondence and his- tory of that period, lie copied manuscripts with his own hand for his own library, which amounted at his death, in 143T, to eight hundred~ codices, and was purchased by Cosimo for the library of St. Mark, also called the Medicean. One of his leading friends, but afterwards his bitter enemy, was Leonardo Bruni of Arezzo, called from his birth-place that city from which sprang Petrarch, Charles Marsuppini, Peter Aretin, and othersLeonard Aretin. Born in or near the year 13~9, and devoted at first to the study of civil law, he formed the acquaintance and fell under the patronage of Sam- tato, who treated him with the kindness of a parent, as he says, and to whom he was indebted for his proficiency in ancient learning. He was at Florence when Chrysoloras awakened so much zeal and curiosity for the study of Greek. For ThO years, said he to hiniself, nobody in Italy has been acquainted with Greek literature, ud yet we know that all learning is derived from the Greeks. So upon beginning the study under the new professor, I gave myself, says lie, to Chrysoloras with such zeal that what I learned in the day time, in sleep itself I repeated over. I had a number of fel- low disciples, but especially two noble Florentines, who made advances beyond the rest in these studies,IRoberto iRossi and Palla Strozzi. There was in the same school a certain Jacopo dAn gel o,to whom the coming of Chrysoloras was chiefly due. There came there afterwards Pietro Yergerio of Justinople (Capo dIstria), who, although enjoying a great name in the University of Padua, had come to Florence solely to hear him. Among these, IRoberto, Yergerio, and Jacopo dAngelo were considerably older than T was. Pahla was about of the same age. For more than two years I frequented with great advan * They were valued at four thousand zeechini or sequins. The sequin was a gold coin, especially of Venice, worth about 2.20. 1865.1 Faurteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. 39 tage to myself the school of Chrysoloras, until, on the arrival of the Greek emperor, Chrysoloras, being sent for by him, left Florence, and went to Milan to join hirn.~~* On the recommendation of Salutato and through the inter- vention of Poggio, Leonardo obtained the place of apostoli- cal secretary, in the year 1405, under tile Roman Pope, Inno- cent ViI.t In this service he spent several of tile subsequent years, with the exception that for a short time he discharged b the duties of the Chancellor of Florence. Innocent, as he ]re- ports, made him the offer of a bishopric, but he declined it, laid aside the clerical habit which the Popes scribes, without being clergymen, generally adopted, and cut himself off from ecclesiastical preferment by taking a wife. lIe accompanied Pope John XXIII. to the Council of Constance, and when the affairs of that worthless man began to grow desperate, broke off connection with his party by an abrupt flight. A num- ber of years now flowed by without any public employment on his part, during which his history of Florence and other works appear to have been written. For his history he was rewarded with citizenship. his knowledge of law, with his reputation as a scholar and a Latinist, procured for him in 1427 the place filled by his patron and friend Salutato, of Chancellor of the Republic, or clerk of the Priors. Besides this life-long office he attained to other state dignities. lie was elected several times into the Council of the ten Priors, was sent on embassies, and was looked upon both by his towns- men and by foreigners as one of the magnates of the repub- lic. On his death in 1413, he was honored with a public burial, and a funeral oration by IMlanetti, one of the first citi- zens and scholars of Florence. H is temples were crowned with laurels within his coffin, and his body was laid in the church of Santa Croce. * Vergerlo, born in 1349, was now learning Greek at 60; Rossi, the preceptor of Cosimo do Medici, was probably not very much younger. The same zeal was kindled for the study of civil law at an earlier period, so that old men and young sat on the learners benches together, at the University of Bologna. ~ So Tirahosehi, and after him Heeren and Shepherd. Voigt says the place was given him while Boniface IX. was Pope, who died late in 1404. 40 The Revival of Letters in the [Jan., Leonardo Brani seems to have been a self-important, ie- served, stately man, inclined to be jealons of others and depre- ciate them, yet withal a man of high character and deservedly respected. Probably in Latin writing he was not surpassed by any of his time, and in Greek learping was among the best of the generation which flourished before the use of printing. Ilis works are translations from the Greek, more in number and mass than those of any of his contemporaries, historical works in Latin, viz: the history of Florence, two books on the events of his own time, some small unpublished tracts on the ongmn of Mantua, on that of Rome, on the nobility of the city of Florence, two books on the Carthaginian war, which are merely extracts from Polybins, commentaries on Greek his- tory, four books on the war against the Goths, which was merely an extract from Procopius, an invective a~ am st Niccol~ Niccoli, translations, and of course a collection of letters.* With Leonard Aretin we may associate a somewhat younger contemporary, from the same town, Carlo Marsuppini, or Charles of Arezzo, born about 1399, and, therefore, never the disciple of Chr~ysoloras, as has been affirmed, the son of a noble citizen of Arezzo, who was a Doctor of Laws and Secretary of the French King, Charles Vi. ile came to Florence for his education, supplanted Filelfo in the chair of eloquence when he had become distasteful to Niccoli and to Cosmo de iMiedici, and continued, for some time, one of the lights of the Univer- sity. He received from Pope Eugenius IV., then residing at Florence, the honorary title of Apostolical Secretary, about 1441, and in 1444 was made Chancellor or Secretary of the Republic, ji1 place of Leonardo Bruni, deceased. his death occurred nine years afterwards, when he was honored with a public funeral and coronation and with a funeral eulogy pro- nounced byMatteoPalmieri. lie not only hated the monks and their ways, but has been charged with being a disbeliever of Chris- tianity. He died without confession and communion, says a nearly contemporary writer,t and not as a good Christian. * Brunis letters were edited anew by Mehus and published at Florence in 2 vols., Svo., in l741. j Niccok Ridolfi, cited by Tiraboschi, vi. 1596. ed. 2. 1865.] Fourteenth and f)fteenth centuries. 41 Of his works, consisting of Latin poetry and translations from the Greek, only the Battle of the Frogs and Mice, rendered into Latin verse, has l)een printed. A far more celebrated name is that of Poggio Brac ciolini, less of a scholar in Greek than many of his contemporaries, as a Latinist even inferior to Yalla and others, yet as a man of genius and of wit the foremost nearly of his age, and better known to posterity than any other of the humanists of the 15tl~ century. Of Poggio we could say much but must content our- selves with little. His life has been concisely written by iRecanati to accompany his edition of Pogglos Florentine his- tories, and more at large, in an entertaining way, learnedly, but without much discrimination or acuteness, by the Rev. William Shepherd, of Liverpool.* Poggio, the son of poor parentshis father keeping asses to hire, according to the doubtful assertion of an enemy, Lan- rentius YalIawas born at a place not far from Arezzo, in 1380, and received his literary education, it is said, under John of iRavenna and Chrysoloras. Having acquired an excellent knowledge of Latin and some skill in Greek, he became a repetitor, and also, by copying, eked out his support, as well as added to his stock of books. In 1402 he went to Rome in order to improve his fortunes, and was appointed one of the ap~stolical scribes, or writers of letters for the Pope; and in this service, exehangitig only the lower rank of scribe for the higher one of secretary, after the accession of John XXIII., he continued for half a centnry.t his duties, however, did not confine him to Rome. He often visited Florence, which, in- deed, for some years, under Pope Eugenius IV. (from 1433 to 1443), was his home, and traveled to other places, perhaps in the service of the Pope. His life at the Roman Court was a merry, we must add an immorM one. His scandalous book, entitled * The first ed. of this work, which was suggested by Mr. Roscoes Life of Lo. renzo deMedici, appeared in 1802, in quarto; the second, in 1837, in octavo. f More accurately, John made him writer of the letters of the Penitentiary, and, although acting as secretary, he was not such until the reign of Callixtus III., 14t~5. But in 1452 he quitted Rome and became Chancellor of Florence, oa the death of Carlo Marsuppini. See Tiraboschi, vi. 1026, ed. of 1824. 42 The Revival of ]etter8 in the [Jan., Faceti~e, may be taken as a specimen of the free, unbridled talk which circulated among the Popes scribes. He took the clerical habit without vow or ordination, reserving himself for future preferment, if it should come in a desirable shape, and being thus unable to marry, lived for a long time in concu- binage with a woman by whom he had a number of children. At length, when lie was fifty-five years old, he contracted mar- riage with a Florentine lady of eighteen, and had by her a legitimate family. An era in his life, as well as in the history of humanism, was his residence at Constance during the Coun- cii. At the suggestion of Niccol6 Niccoli, as it would seem, lie made use of some of his leisure time in searching for manu- scripts. A visit to St. Gallen in company with two friends, was most abundantly rewarded, as we shall see hereafter, and his discoveries, more than anything else, revived and increased the zeal for the literary remains of the ancients, which Petrarch had awakened, and aroused the emulation of the Italian inag- nates to get possession of the n ew treasures, as well as to in- stitnte new searches for them. At Constance, also ,hewas a witness of the trial and death of Jerome of Prague, which he describes in a letter to Leonardo Bruni in such terms, that his correspondent warns him against showing so much affection for the cause of a heretic, and advises him to write upon such sub- jects iu a more guarded manneri~ here, too, lie devoted some of his leisure hours to the study of Hebrew, but never went beyond the merest elements of the language. After the depo- sition of John XXIII., having failed of gaining favor with Martin Y., the Pope appointed by the CouncilPoggio spent some time in England, where the Bishop of Winchester, Car- dinal I3eaufort, who had been at Constance and may have seen him there, made him offers of a benefice in the Chnrch, which he declined. Fr3m his exile iii the f~r off, barbarous land of * ~~ concludes thus : Neither did Muting suffer his band to be burned as patiently as Jerome endured the burning of his whole body; nor did Socrates drink the hemlock as cheerfully as Jerome submitted to the fire. His mind runs naturally to heathens as the standard of comparison. The letter is appealed to hy Neander in the last volume of his history, and a translation of the whole of it is given by Shepherd. 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth (~enturie8. 43 En gland, he returned again to Italy, to his literary friends, and his employment in the Roman Court. 1-Tere. he held his office until 1452, or possibly longer, frequently making visits to Florence, and residing there with the Curia, during the exile of Engenius from his capital. lie was, for a short time, Chancellor of Florence, after the death of Marsuppini, in 1453, but some unpopularity on his l)art, or complaints on the part of citizens, induced him to resign the office, and he spent the clos- ing years of his long life in affluence, in a villa of his near the city, engaged in the composition of his Latin History of Flor- ence.* Besides this work, his Faceti~ and his Letters, which are more prized than those of any other humanist, he wrote several translations from the Greek, a number of eulogies on funeral occasions, with an equal number of invectives and of highly esteemed moral essays. Poggio was an open and large man, without knowing how to feign or dissemble, says the old bookseller, from whom we have already quoted. We may go farther, and say that lie had not only a free-speaking, but a most hitter tongue; that he was at variance with many of his literary contemporaries, although always maintaining friendship with Niccol6 Niccoli and the Florentine set; that he detested the monks, and by the keen- ness of his wit and his biting satire, probably did more to un- dermuine the Church which supported him, than any man of his age, or of the succeedin ~ age, until Erasmus. Two Florentines, of a very differ cut temper and spirit from Poggio, deserve some mention, before we proceed to siy a few words on the humanists whose lot in life placed them wholly, or in pam t, outside of this favored circle. Gianozzo Manetti, horn in 1396, of a noble Florentine family, and destined by his father to a merchants life, grew weary of his business, and at the age of twenty-Live began the study of Latin, to which he applied himself with such devotion as to allow only live hours to sleep. In time the knowledge of Greek and of hebrew was acquired, and to perfect himself * Egli era in questo tempo molto ricco, says Vespasian, per essere stato hingo tempo in corte di Roma. 44 The Revival of Letters in the [Jan., in these tongues he took two Greeks and a Ifebrew into his house, bargaining with them that they should always talk with hhn in their native languages, in which way he rendered both tongues so familiar, that he used them in conversation just as if they were his vernacular. As his rel)utation grew, he was selected to explain the ethics of Aristotle, in the public school or university of Florence, in which exercise he had many scholars, who afterwards became celebrated for their learning. ,~ Perhaps no man of the age was a more universal scholar than he. Skilled in logic and ethics, acquainted with theology, a proficient in Latin, Greek, and hebrew, not without knowledge of the Rabbinical writings, and able to dispute with Jews on their own groundto all this he united the most estimable and devout character, the greatest truthfulness, respect for religion and faith in the divine governruent. He was entrusted by the Republic with the most important public stations. On various occasions the head of the University, and in the city government, he also was sent on important public embassies to the Popes, to Naples, and other Italian powers, and was more than once selected by other towns to be their Captain. Of his Ifebrew studies a remarkable fruit was his translation of the Psalter, with the Greek of the Seventy, and Jeromes Latin version, in separate columns by its side, to which was prefixed a defense of his version in five books. This seems to have utterly perished. He also translated the New Testament, together with several of the works of Aristotle.. Among his other works we name a number of orations on funeral or other occasions, lives of illustrious persons, as of Socrates, Seneca, Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio, Pope Nicholas Y.whom he survived more than four years, since he died in 1459and a work in ten books against the Hebrews, which is still extant, in manuscript, in the Lanrentian Library, and finally an autobiography. His library was a the time, embracino like his mind, various laroe one foi departments of learnino and science. lie had a design to open b a public library in the Convent of Santo Spirito, where he had * Tirabosehi, vi. 1158, ed. 2, of 1824. 18(35.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth (Jenturie.9. 45 received his first initiation into the sciences, but death prevented the execution of the plan.* With all his worth and learning Manetti had no great influ- ence on th~ progress of letters, and was soon forgotten. One cause of this may have been that he did not concentrate but divided his studies, and another, snggested by Yoigt, that the graces were wanting in him : one whose Latin style was so monotonous, and wearisome by reason of its unrivaled pro- lixity., whose clumsy panegyrics heaped up one superlative upon another, such a one, according to the prevailing taste of the times, would gain little credit by the most open show of knowledge. The other remaining Florentine of whom we propose to speak is Anmbrogio Traversari, who was born in 1 ~S6, near Forli, in the I~omagna, and at the age of fourteen entered the Camaldulensian monastery degli Angioli, at Florence. If he Was, as is generally said, a scholar of Chrysoloras, he must have given himself almost immediately to the study of Greek, in which he became a great proficient and gave instructions to some of the forty brethren in the convent, as well as to Man- etti, whom we have just spoken of.t In 1431, Ambrogio, who now was widely known as a scholar, and esteemed for his worth of character, was made by Eugenius IV. General of the order of Camalduli, and was active in carrying out the reforms which the Pope had instituted. Sent by Eugenius, in 1435, to the Council of Basel, he there advocated the Popes side against the prevalent views of the assembled fathers with zeal and dexterity. From Basel he visited the court of the Emperor Sigismund, on a commission from the same Pope, who sent him again to Venice to meet the Emperor and the patriarch of the Greeks, and to escort them to Ferrara. At Ferrara and at Florence, where the council was continued, he played a leading * For Manettis life we have two early authorities, that of Ve~pasian, who says more about him than about any one dse, except Frederic, Duke of Urbino, and that of Naldo Naldi, in Muratoris Scriptores Rer. Ital. xx., 527. ~ Accordng to Tiraboschi, vi. 1182, ed. 2, a Greek, Demetrius Scarani by name, became a monk in the convent in 1417, and aided Ambrose toacquire the Greek language. 46 [like Revival of ]Zetterg in the [Jan., part in the debates with the Greeks and the attempts to bring about a union of the churches, in which his uncommon knowledge of Greek was a great help to the IRoman cause. He died soon afterwards, in October, 1439. His works were translations from Greek fathers, and an itinerary, or hodnpori-. con, containing his day-book of jomnevs undertaken in the re- forms of his order after he became its general, which, with twenty books of letters, has been printed; and he also, at the request of Niccoli and Cosimo de Medici, began, but never finished, a translation of Diogenes Luertins. Traversari is an instance of a strict monk, uniting to a rig- orous observance of the rules of his order a great curiosity in regard to heathen literature, which led him into daily associa- tion with men of other morals and lives. One of the best parts of Prof. Yoigts work is that in which he notices this in- consistency as a sign of the conflicting influences of the times, painting it, however, in too glaring colors. We translate one or two passages He who knew Traversari only a5 a public character might take him for a hard, intriguing, vain-glorious, hypocritical monk. We are not surprised that he was not much loved, that he was involved, especially, in bitter strife with brethren of his order, and everywhere was the author of variance and hatred rather than of reconcili tion. But he was quite another person in his Florentine home aad among the literati; here he showed his accessible and amiable side. In the con- vent degli Angioli came together the Medicem brothers, (Cosimo and Loi-enzo), the sprightly, acute Niecoli, the cold, saturnine Marsuppini and others, for al- most daily coufid~-ntiai intercourse. At Cosimos table one might see the little general of the Camaldulensian order, with his cheerful countenance and great liveliness, entertaining the company. Men like Marsuppini, the classical heathen, like Bruni and Poggin, the frivolous jesters, stood in no danger of a moral lecture from him. With Ni-coli, he lived in the fi-iendship, almost, of one student with another. Fondness for books and literary tastes bound them to one another. To Niccoli he sent his reports and all the discoveries he made through Italy when he examined the convents, and still more, the couveutnal librasies. On he other hand, if Niccoli was abroad with his Benvenuta [who was at oncehis housekeeper and mistresVj, he entrusted to the care of the general of monks the most precious thing that he left behind, the keys to his u-on book-chestsa good part of the books, moreover, Traversari had always by him in h;s cellthe antiquarian treas- ures of his houce and his clothing, which the Camaldulensian, at the request of his pedantically neat friend, ordered one of the brethren of the convent to beat and brush. We see, from their correspondence, with what surprising patience Traversari endured the petty humors and weaknesses of Niceoli,what attention and 1865.] Fourteenth and Ffteenth C~enturie8. 47 tenderness he showed towards his friend, what warm interest he took even in purely personal matters, how he even permitted Niccoli to use towards him the tone nf familiar joking, when events of Florentine town history, in their character objectionable enough, were discussed in his letters. Certainly, it was a great deal to expect, on the part of Niccoli, that the venerable general of a monastic order should show respect to Benvenuta, testifyin0 his regard for her even after the public scandal that arose on her account, [between Niccoli and his brothers, in which Bruni became involved], that he at the close of his letters should rarely forget the wish to be recommended to the concubine, under the title of the most faithful woman. They lived and worked in Florence in a brotherly way together. At one time Niccoli served as humble secretary, when Ambrogio, whose hand in his later years became unsteady and trembling, translated, it might be, a work of Chrysostom; at another Ambrogio, when Niccoli copied a Latin classic like Anlus Gellius, in which Greek passages occurred, would neatly transcribe for him the Greek letters into the Latin text. Then, after remarking that Traversari had more literary zeal thai~ talent, Mr. Yoigt goes on to say that the highest in- terest which his character awakens arises when we notice how the monk and the literary man contend together in him; how the love of fame, of which Poggio and others were not ashamed, was met by scruples of conscience; how he covered up, under a show of humility, an aspiring temper which looked for the highest place in the church ; how, with all his humanistic zeal, he hesitated to introduce quotations from profane authors into his letters; how he made a show of great scrupulosity when Niccoli and Cosimo urged on him the translation of Diogenes Laertius, and even consulted several friends whether it were right to undertake such a profane task. We see thus, he adds, how the literary tastes of Florence were already overpowering the tendencies of ecclesiastical life. The number of human- istic churchmen and monks has not been small, while the scru- pulous conscientiousness of the Camaldulensian disappeared more and more among those of his class who came after him. The scruples were false, we may add, and not Christian, and the humanistic tendency was equally false, and not Christian. It would have been the greatest of disasters had the last over- powered the ~rst and reigned supreme. As a destructive ten- dency it was of high importance in the worlds history. Through it a positive tendency of a noble origin could find room, which rendered possible the consecration of learning to the service of God, whether it were heathen learning or theological learning, 48 fJYie Revival of Letter8 in the [Jan., and which reconciled all culture of the mind, all art, all knowledge, with a Christian spirit, now clearly apprehended and freed from the spirit of asceticism.* From the Florentine humanists we pass on to give brief sketches of others who were moie or less separated from the influences of this republic of the muses. Of these, we rank together, as having studied in Greece, Aurispa, Filelfo,.and Guarino; and with the latter, who was a great teacher, we associate the other great teacher of Italy, Vittorino da Feltre. Giovanni Anrispa, born in Sicily, in 1369, had already been known as an instructor in Italy, when, at the age of about fifty, he went to Constantinople, for the study of Greek. He returned, with a considerable number of manuscripts, in the train, it is probable, of John Paleologus, the Emperor Manuels son, in 1,~23, and was called to B@logna for the purpose of teaching Greek in the year 1,~2I. A year afterwards we find him in Florence, engaged in instruction, and lodged in the house of the Strozzi. His stay at Florence was short. He is then fixed for some years at Ferrara, where Pope Eugenius made his acquaintance, at the time of the council, as itis thonght, and afterwards gave him the appointment of apostolical secretary. Nicholas V. continued Anrispa in his office, but before that Pope died he retired from Rome, and spent the last years of his life at Ferrara, where he died iu 1459, aged ninety. He had become a priest, while engaged in the duties of an apos- tolical secretary. Aurispa wrote little, nothing in fact of value. His principal title to be regarded as a restorer of learning must rest on his merits as a teacher, on his acquisition of Greek, when now past the nieridian of life, and on the collection of manuscripts which he brought with him upon his retnrn. Francesco Filelfo, or Phileiphus, as his name was written in Latin, was a much noisier man and bad more varied fortunes. Born at Tolentino, in the mark of Ancona, in 1398, and im- bued at Padua in humane letters, under Gasparin of Barzizza, * Traversaris letters have been re~dited and his life written by the Abbe L. Mehus, a most patient explorer of the literary history of this period. The work appeared at Florence in 1759, in 2 vols. 1865.] 49 Fourteenth and I~fteenth centurws. he kept a school of eloquence at Venice between 1417 and 1419, and had also been employed, both at Padna and Vicenza, as a teacher. Tn 1420 he went into Greece, made progress in the language under John Clirysoloras, whose daughter he mar- ried, and obtaining the favor of the Paleologi-perhaps through his marriage into a prominent familywas sent by them as an ambassador to the Sultan Amurat IL, and the German Emperor Sigismund. Returning to Italy in 1427, with a store of Greek manuscripts, and not being able to find a chair at Yeni~e he repairs to Bologna, where he is installed as professor of eloquence and moral philosophy, with a stipend of 450 gold scudi. Displeased with his condition at Bologna lie procures, through his correspondents at Florence, a place in that city, where he is established in 1429. His reception is of the most flattering kind. AU honor me, he writes, all love meI have every day more than 400 scholars, and those for the most part men of high affairs and of the senatorial order. his work at Florence was to expound Dante, during Lent, we believe, and to give lectures on eloquence. his stay here was short. He fell out with Niccol6 Kiccoli, with Cosimo and their party, who put up Carlo Marsuppini as his competitor, and that drew away his pupils from him to a more popular lecturer. Filelfo, as the cause or effect of this quarrel, joined the aristocratic faction, which succeeded in banishing Cosimo in 1433, but as the iMiedicean party triumphed the next year, he thought him- self unsafe at Florence and retired to Siena, where he was engaged in lecturing in. 1435. lIe was banished from Floren- tine territory, but ere long Cosimo tried to conciliate him. It was in vain however; he was now thoroughly enraged; lie attributed to Cosimo his disappointment and disgrace, and even charged him and his brother Lor~nzo with being privy to an assassins attempt to take his life at Florence, and once again at Siena. He wrote back, therefore, to Traversari, through whom the offer of reconciliation came, Cosimo uses the dagger and poison against me; I use my talent and my pen against him. I want not Cosimos friendship, and despise his enmity. As a natural result of the character and position of von. xxiv. 4 50 like Revival of Letter8 in~ the [Jan., Filelfo and of Poggio, the friend of the Medici, their pens were dipped in the blackest gall against one another. Filelfos next stay was in Bologna for a short season. Thence he goes to Milan and spends the niost of his remaining days in that city. Until 1447 lie held a public school, but laid aside his scholastic exercises, after that time, for twenty-five years. In 1450 l~e joined the party of Francis Sforza, and was one of the deputies sent by the Milanese to compliment him, when he was acknowledged Lord and Duke of Milan. From the new house he received a stipend, but it was not paid as regularly as Filelfo wished. He therefore contemplated a change of resi- dence in 1453, and obtaining from the Duke a leave of absence for four months, turned his face towards Naples, hoping to find in king Alfonso a better patron than lie had found in Sforza. He was intending to pass through iRome without paying his respects to Pope Nicholas V., when the Pope sent for him and desired to see him. Messer Francesco, said the Pope,we translate the words of Vespasian we marvel at you, in that, passing through here, you have not made us a visit. Messer Francesco replied, that he had it in his thoughts to visit King Alfonso, and then to come to his holiness. Pope Nicholas, who had always been a lover of literary men, wished that Messer Francesco should know his favorable mind, (ha sna gratitudine) and taking a package (un legato) of 500 ducats said, Messer Francesco, this money I wish to give to you that you may pay your expenses on the road. From Rome lie passed on to Naples, and was received with signal honors by Alfonso. Then, on returning to Milan, lie heard that the mother of his first, or Greek wifehe was now living with his thirdbad been re- duced to slavery, with two of her danghters, at the fall of Con- stantinople, and, at his instigation, the Duke of Milan made such representations to Mahomuet II. that they were released from bondage. Filelfo hoped much froni Pius IL, when he became Pope, for he had been his scholar at Florence, but Pius contented himself with assigning him a pension of 200 ducats, which was not paid, and giving a present of 400 for a transla- tion of Xenophons Cyropedia, which Filelfo sent him. The wrath of Fihelfo was aroused by the non-payment of the pen- 1865.] Fourteenth and F?fteenth ~6~enturze8. 51 sion, and he was led to an invective against the Pope, for which he suffered a tern porary imprisonment. In 1471, being now quite an old man, he was forced, by his pecuniary straits, to give public lectures again, and the book which he explained was the Politics of Aristotle. Three years after this, Sixtus IV. being Pope, he was called to Rome to hold a school of moral philosophy, with a stipend of 500 ducats. lie expounded the Tusculan Questions to a great concourse of scholars. In 1477 he returned to Milan, but not finding his condition there to his mind, accepted, in 1481, at the advanced age of eighty-tl~ree, an invitation from Loreuzo the Magnificent, to the chair of Greek, at Florence, having been a number of years before reconciled to the Medici family. He did not fear to undertake this task at so advanced an age, but his powers of life deserted him soon after his arrival at Florence, in the above mentioned year. Filelfo was no ordinary man, as the honors he received from princes and the estimation in which he was held by men of letters indicate. In Greek scholarship he niust have been superior to nearly all his Italian contemporaries. Few of them held so fluent a pen in Latin verse. The writings of this man, who binds the age before the invention of printing and the subsequent age together by his extraordinary longevity, and who lived to see the press multiply his works by a quicker pro- cess than the copying of manuscripts, were exceedingly num- erous. Among them were translations from the Greek; satires, in a collection, entitled Hecato8tichon Decade8 Decem; a work after the model of Platos symposium, entitled Uonvivi~ Afediolamen8ia, orations, fables, odes, a commentary on Pe- trarch, the Life of John the Baptista poem in terza nina and thirty-seven books of epistles. These have appeared in print, besides which he wrote the Sforziad, an unfinished poem, in eight books, on the history of Francis Sforza, Duke of Milan, three books of Greek odes and elegies, epigrams, and an essay entitled iWieditationes de Exilio.* * A valuable life of Filelfo, by Carlo deRosmini, in three volumes, appeared at Milan in 1808. 52 like ]A?eviva7 of Lettere in the [Jan., If we could believe Pog~io, whose bitter tongue knew no bounds of decency or truth, Filelfo had been a worthless rep- robate from his youth. But even as he exhibits himself in the truth of life, his character is anything but estimable. Vain- glorious, proud, bitter towards his foes, rivaling Poggio in the malignity and indecency of his satire, needy and greedy, always writing begging letters to princes, or levying contribu- tions on them by his poetry addressed to them, he represents the worst side of the humanistic character. One fault which seems to have led to others, was his lavish, r~kless expendi- ture. When he returned from Constantinople, with a wife and one small child, he must needs have four maids and two ser- ving-men. At a time when he was complaining of poverty, says Prof Voigt, he kept six horses. Filelfo w s so great in his own eyes that no stipend could be equal to his merits, nor did a very large family of twenty-four children by his tbree wives lead him to the practice of economy. He was, in short, proud, mean, and selfish. From this unfavorable, but typical specimen of the humanist, we turn, with pleasure, to Guarino of Verona. lie was born in that city in 1370, and according to Vespasian, studied Greek under Chrysoloras, at Florence, in company with Leonardo Bruni and others whom we have noticed. Not content with this he went to Constantinople to perfect himself in the same language, unless his visit to Greece must be assigned. as Tira- bosehi assigns it, to a period before the instructions of Chryso- bras, at Florence, began. On his return he gave public lectures in a number of Italian cities, staying, at most, but a few years in each. He was in Florence for a while in 1414, but appears to have been driven away by the ill treatment he received from Niccol6 iNiccoli. His next place of instruction was Venice, where, in 1418, Leonardo Giustiniani was his pupil. Next we find him at Verona, between 1422 and 1428, and here Hermolao Barbaro, the elder, was his scholar in Greek. In 1429 he was invited by Niccol6 III., Marquis of Este, to Ferrara, in order to become the tutor of his illegitimate son, Lionello, who succeeded hhn in the marquisate. In 1436 Guarino became a professor in the University there, and con. 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth centuries. 53 tinned to give public instruction until his death, in 1460, at the advanced age of 90. At the time of the council of Fer- rara he seems to have acted with Anrispa, and others, as an interpreter, and to have gone to Florence, on the same busi- ness, when the council was removed to that city. The encomiums bestowed on Guarino, in his own age, would place him almost, at the head of Italian humanists. Pope Pius IT. calls him the precel)tor of neaHy all those who then acquired a reputation for eloquent writing. Trithemius calls bun probably the most learned man of his day in profane liter- ature. Bartolommeo Fazio, his pupil, says that Leonard Aretin, being asked whom he regarded as the most learned man of the times, assigned that rank to Guarino. (Tirab. vi. lib. 3, 6.) His skill in teaching is shown by the respect with which his scholars spoke of him, and by the number of young mensome of them strangers from England and ILlungarytrained under his discipline. Even Poggio preferred giving his son of four- teen into his care to exposing him to the temptations of Flor- ence. His character awakened their regard and that of his brother literati; he was, in great measure, free from the jeal- ousies, the petty rivalries, the evil-speaking spirit of his age; he seems to have had no uneasy desire of fame and to h~ave been content with his place as a teacher. Yet his success in the education of Lionello was not very great, much as the learning and refinement of that prince were extolled by the admiring master and the people around the court. Borso, the successor of Lionello, another illegitimate prince, superior to his brother in personal attractions, was also a most liberal patron of learn- ing, and collected books through the agency of Guarino. The writings of Guarino were not numerous nor important. We have already mentioned his Greek grammar, ektracted from that of Chrysoloras; he prepared a Latin grammar, also, for the use of his schoThxs, and made a number of translations, not to mention Latin poems, and letters. At the command of Pope Nicholas Y., he set himself to work in the later years of his life at a translation of Strabos geography. He was to translate ten books, while Gregory Tifernas was entrusted with the other seven. But, says Tiraboschi, it is certain that 54 The Revival of Letters in the [Jan., Guarino completed the translation of all the books. The story, as told by Vespasian, whose lives, then in manuscript, Tirabosehi had not the opportunity of consulting, is this: that the labor was to be compensated at the rate of 500 forms for each of the three parts of the geographyEnrope, Asia, and Africa. He translated two parts before Nicholas died, in 1455, being then 85 years oldand received a thousand ducats. The third part he fini~hed after the Popes death, and as he had a large family and little to live npon, sought some l)atrOfl who would take his work and remunerate him for it. A Vene- tian gentleman purchased it of him and sent it to IRen6, or Regnier of Anjou, titular king of Naples. More exclusively a teacher than Guarino was Vittorino IRain- baldoni, called, usually, da Feltre, from his birth place. Born in 1379, and instructed partly at Padua, and partly by Guarino, from whom he gained his knowledge of G reek, and with whom he lived on terms of cordial friendship, Vittorino was first called to Padna as professor of rhetoric and philosophy, but being disgusted by the licentious ways of the students, left his chair, at the end of a year, and set up a school at Venice, where he had the Greek, George of Trebisond, for a scholar. In 1425 he was invited to Mautna, by Gianfrancesco Gonzaga, at first Seignior, then Marquis of Mantua, who desired him to preside over the education of his children. Here he remained until his death, in 1447, not a professor, but a schoolmaster, more worthy of esteem on account of his aims, his character, the good he wrought and the example he handed down, than all the self-admiring Poggios and Filelfos. He was, indeed, the prince of-schoolmasters, and worthy of the praise Von Ranmer bestows on him in his history of the paedagogic art. His scholars at Mautna, some of them of quite a tender age, were the four sons and a daughter of the Marquis, the children of some Seigniors and Chevaliers,.among~whom were Giberto da Corregio, and Federico di IMloutefeltro, afterwards the noted duke of Urbino,strangers from the northern countries and even from Greece, and with these a number of children of poor parents x~horn Vittorino took into his family and main- tainedhaving neither child nor wife of his own,at his private 1865.1 Foitrteenth and Fifteenth Centur9,e8. 55 expense. The method of teaching which he adopted depended on Latin, Greek, and mathematics as the main studies, in which latter department Euclid was the principal book. Ambroglo Traversari, in a letter to Niccol6 INiccoli, written in 1433, de- scribes a visit to the excellent man and his academy, from which we gather that some of his scholars were far enough advanced in Greek to turn it into Latin; one had translated Plutarchs life of Camihlus, some fables of Esop and some things of Chrysostom. In another letter Ambrogio speaks of his teaching Greek to the sons of the Marquis, and to his daughter, then a girl of seven years. All, says he, know how to write Greek. There are nine scholars who write so well as to fill me with astonishment. I have seen a transla- tion of a passage of Chrysostom made by one of them, which has pleased inc much. In 1435 lie writes again after another visit, as follows: lie pointed out to me Giovanni Lucido, the son of the Prince, (the Marquis), a youth of fourteen, educa- ted and instructed by him. The boy recited about two hundred lines of his own composition, describing the pomp of the Empe- rors reception at Mantua. There was there also a little girl of about ten, the Princes daughter, who wrote so well in Greek, that I blushed to think, that of all I had taught scareely one wrote so easily. Vittorino watched imot only over the literary progress, but over the morals also of his pupils. His plan was perhaps too much of the ascetic kind in some respects, but he was a re- ligious man, and aimed to make his pupils religious. In Yes- pasians life of him, we find the following passage: lie was most observant of the Christian religion, said every day all the offices like a priest, fasted on all the prescribed vigils, and wanted to have all his scholars do this who were of an age not to act for themselves. When he went to table he asked a blessing as the priests do. and returned thanks likewise on ris- ing up from the table. The same was done by all his scholars, and during meals he had a book read that all might keep si- lence. lie confessed often himself, and wanted to have all his scholars confess at every mass to the Observant monks. His house was a sacristy, where good customs, acts, and words were 543 The Revival of Letter8 in the [Jan., treasured up. Nor was he unmindful of their sports, among which the same author enumerates riding, throwing the quoit, or the rod, playing ball, and leaping. Yittorino educated a large number of important persons, of whom Tiraboschi mentions several. The daughter of the house of Gonzaga, spoken of above, became a nun afterwards. The liberality and kindness of Vittorino, his maintenance of poor scholars at his own charges, his sweetness of temper, his devotion to his work without the desire to play the author, the reverence in which he was held by his scholars, four of whom have left accounts of his life, the peaceful relations be- tween him and the other humanists, can only be referred to. He is a bright example of a religious scholar, amid a genera- tion of half-heathen. One other name will close the list of huinanists of the first rank,that of Lorenzo or Laurentius Yalla. He was the son of a native of Piacenza, a lawyer and consistorial advocate, residing at Rome, where Loreuzo was born about the year 1406. flie received, as he says, instruction from Leonardo Bruni and Aurispa, from the former in writing Latin, from the latter in Greek, although the former was not a teacher at Rome but a secretary, and the latter cannot be traced to that city until 1410. At the age of 24 he tried to get the place of apostolical secretary which a maternal uncle, just deceased, had filled, but was rejected on account of his youth. Years afterward lie charged Poggio with thwarting his application, who, however, at that time could have had no personal hostili- ty against hhn. Ere long he appears as a professor in Pavia, and for five years or more, from 1435 onward, was an attend- ant or secretary of Alfonso, King of Naples. This connection with the King had a most important influence on the subse- quent life and efforts of Yalla, for as Pope Eugenius LW. and his leading adviser, Cardinal Yitelleschi, endeavored to under- mine the power of Alfonso and restore the house of Anjon, it was natural that lie and his servants should espouse the party opposed to the Pope, and favor the cause of the council of Ba. sel. Under such influence Yalla, in 1440, wrote his work de fal8o credita et enmentita con8tantini donatione, wit ich forms 1865.1 Fourteenth and Jf~fteenth (enturies. 57 an epoch in humanism, as being the first time the new learn- ing, in the shape of historical criticism, attacked a tradition of the church. Dante had taken for granted the donation of Constantine, and traced to it the evils of the papacy; Yalla now denies it as a myth. His motive, as Prof. Yoigt remarks, appears in the very introduction ;Eugenius is represented as a tyrant, and Yitelleschi a blood-hound. But the example of bold (~riticisIu was more dangerous than the invectives. He was in iRoine soon after the work excited attention, and thought it safest to flee to Ostia and Naples, and even to go in disguise to Barcelona. Feeling himself secure however under Alfonsos protection, he returns to Naples and engages in a running fight with the monks; he declares the letter of Christ to Ab~arus, which Eusebius gives ns, to be a forgery, and even denies that such a person as Abgarns ever existed; and he sneers at one of the Minorite preachers for maintaining that the articles of the Apostles creed were written by the Apostles separately, showing it even to be his opinion that the creed did not pro- ceed from them at all. But he gave his ecclesiastical enemies more just ground of reprehension, lie had written, at Home or at Pavia, dialogues on pleasure and free-will, in which, if he did not exactly maintain that pleasure was the highest good, he gave the impression that he really thought so; he advocated the demands of the sensual nature, and derided celibacy, the very foundation of the monastic life; lie declared the virtues to be only haudmaids of pleasure, and shocked peoples minds by other innovations, such as that there were three elements and not four, three senses not five, only eight syllogisms, the rest of the nineteen being nonsense, and, still worse, that the monks falsely claimed more merit than other men, on account of their profession of a monastic life. His enemies brought him before the Jn4uisition, but he treated the matter with con- tempt. He said he believed as mother church believed, and when they tried to force on him certain dialectic subtleties which had nothing to do with the dogmas of the church, his answer was that the church knew nothing about all this, but that here too he believed with the church. He rebuked the inquisitors and complained of them to the King, who bade them 58 f/ike Revival of letters in the [Jan., be silent and abandon the process. There was no courage in all these doings of Valla, for lie knew the king was on his side. Yalla continued to enjoy Alfbnsos protection until, in 1447, he received the pardon of Pope Nicholas V., that lover of learning, and went to IRome to become an acting or an honor- ary scribe of the Pope, and to deliver public lectures on elo- quence. As at Naples he was at variance with humanists re- siding there, so here at iRome he became involved in a violent quarrel with Poggio, who, however, was most to be blamed as having commenced it. At iRome Valla turned Thucydides into Latin, and received for it from the munificent Pope 500 gold scudi. In the latter years of his life, by request of Alfon- so, he undertook also a translation of Herodotus, but left it unfinished at his death, which occurred in 1457. Besides his works which have been mentioned, he wrote many others, as a history of Ferdinand, father of Alfonso. a prose translation of the Iliad, and notes on the New Testament, which show his critical turn and his freedom in finding fault with the received or Vnlgate translation. But his most popu- lar and best known work is his Elegantic~ latinx sermonis, which has been repeatedly printed, and long held its ground as an introduction to the writing of Latin, and which places him, in point of knowledge of Latin, before all his contemporaries. His own style in that language is pronounced not to have been equal to his knowledge of it. Valla was no doubt a very able man; more original and more critical perhaps than any other humanist, lie shows us the destructive tendency of the spirit, while it was yet but newly awakened. What might it not be led to do then, un- less repressed, when fifty years or a century should have added to its resources, sharpened its weapons, and given it the means of wider diffnsion. But the age, except a few monks, did not perceive the dangers that were embodied in humanism, and it is remarkable how much more of a Mac~nas than a Pope Nicholas V. was, when he called this scholar charged with her- esy to IRome, and heaped on him marks of his favor. One who looks deeply into things, says Mr. Voigt, will not fail to perceive what a significance there is in this triumph of hu 1865.1 Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. 59 manistic learning over the minds of the representatives of tra- dition and orthodoxy. As for the rest, Valla was not entitled to the esteem of men either on account of his morals, or his moral principles, or his temper. In regard to his faith, if he were an unbeliever, he concealed his opinions, but in a man of his critical mind and habits the irreligious spirit would be apt to go beyond indif- erence and levity, it would breed donbts or unbelief on funda- mental points of religion.* At all the courts and in all the larger towns of Italy, the new learning had its representatives. The princes needed ora- tors to write addresses fbr them, secretaries who could maintain a polished correspondence with other courts, poets to indite odes on occasions of pomp and state, scholars who could use the pen of an historian to celebrate their deeds, or the deeds of their houses. These men might be attached to the court en- tirely, or might act as professors. Two such persons shared at Naples the favors of Alfonso with Lanrentius Valla, Bartholo- mew Facius. (Fazio), and Antony Beccadelli, also called Pan- orruita. The former, a native of Spezzia in the Genoese ter- ritory, and a pupil of Guarino, lived at Genoa for some time, and wrote, probably while there, a history of the war, which. began in 1377, between Genoa and Venice. lIe was after- wards invited, it is not known when, to Naples by Alfonso, and died there in 1457. TIe wrote, with other works, ten books on the deeds of Alfonso, a work de viri~ illu8tri bus, that is on the noticeable men of his own time, a translation of Arri- ans life of Alexander the Great, and invectives in four books against Valla, with whom lie had a long quarrel. Antonio Beccadelli, born at Palermo, in 1394whence his name Panor- mitaand a student at Siena tirst, then afterwards sent as a scholar at the public charge to Bologna, first made his court to the IDuke of Milan, Philip Maria Visconti, who gave him a handsome stipend, then about 1433 filled the chair of Rhetoric at Pavia, then as early as 1436 entered into the service of Al- * Poggiali in 1790 wrote Memorie intorno aim vita etc. of L. Valla; and C. G. Zumpt published in the 4th volume of W. A. Schmidts Zeitschr. far Geschichts- wissensch, a valuable essay entitled Leben u. Verdienste des Laur. Valla. 60 The Revival of Ietter8 in the [Jan., fopso, and remained at Naples until his death in 1471. He seems to have been a thorough courtier and a great favorite of the King, who made him his secretary, and inscribed him among the nol)ility. his principal works are four books of the say- ings arid doings of King Alfonso, epistles and Latin poems, among which the work to be noticed in another place called the Therm apli roditus, and drawn from manuscript obli vi on some thirty years ago by a German, equals everything of its time in genial elegance, and surpasses everything in heathen- ish obscenity. At Milan, Gasparino of Barzizza, of whom we have once before spoken, was orator and Secretary of Duke Philip Maria Visconti, until 1431, and his son Guiniforte, another humanist, ten years afterwards took his place. This too was the princi- pal residence of Pier Candido Decembrio, a contemporary and rival of Filelfo, who inherited the humanistic spirit from his father, Uberto, secretary first to Pope Alexander V. then to Gianm aria Visconti. Pier gave the last hand to a translation of Platos iRepnblic, made by his father. While yet young, he was secretary to Philip Maria Visconti, and on the elevation of Francis SfoPza to the dukedom, left Milan to become secre- tary to Pope Nicholas Vi iReturning to Milan, he died there in 1477, at the age of 78. his principal works are historical, lives of the last Visconti and the first Sforza, and translations both from Greek into Latin, and from Latin into Italian. At Ferrara, besides Guarino and Aurispa, Ugo Benzi spent a portion of his lifea learned physician of humanistic tenden- cies. hile was there when the Council met in 1438, and he challenged the Greeks to a philosophical dispute. The account of the dispute, for which Tirabosehi and others refer to the des- cription of Europe by Pope Pins II., is too characteristic of~ the age not to find a place here. Ug invited the Greek philoso- pliers to a dinner, at which the Marquis of Ferrara and the most skilled of the Occidentals in philosophy were present. Calling attention to the points of dispute between Plato and Aristotle, he offered to take either side which the Greeks wished to attack. An animated discussion ensued; and the Greeks were reduced by degrees to silencethe master of the 1865.1 Fourteenth and Fifteenth (Jenturie8. 61 feast remaining master of the field. We see here the conscious superiority of the Italian,who had drawn what he knew of the Greek philosophers from Cicero and not from the fountains themselves, over the Greeks, who had been nursed by dry and murky commentators. The Greeks excited no reverence as they came into Italy, but rather derision and pity; the Eat- ins felt them to be an inferior race, schismatics in religion, near ruin in their political system, uncouth in manner and costume. They laughed at their long beards, their long flow- ing garinei~ts, their pomposity and pretense. Probably they underrated the old literature of the Greeks, in comparison with that borrowed and inferior literature of the Latins which they understood so much better. The same humanastic spirit penetrated many of the small courts of Italy. At Pad na, until the sway of the Carraras was overthrown by Yenice, Peter Paul Yergeriothe elder as he is called, to distinguish hun from another of the same name and family, who, after reaching the dignity of Bishop of Capo dIstria, became a Protestantwas not only a professor in ~he University, but a historian of the ruling house. Of this man, born as early as 1349, we have already spoken as having begun the study of Greek at Florence under Chrysoloras, when now no longer young. lie had t aught dialectics at Florence a good while before this, and he gave instructions in the same at Padna. He was regarded as skilled in civil law, mathematics, philosophy, eloquence, and Greek. A translation of Arrians Anabasis of Alexander, done by him for the Emperor Sigis- mund, is preserved in the Yatican. He was selected to super- intend the education of the young Carrarese princes, on which occasion he wrote a tract de inyenui8 moriba8, the only work of his, we believe, which has been printed. The Seigniors also of the Malatesta family, both at Rimini and at Cesena, had some sympathy for the new learning, or at least followed the fashion of the higher princes. But the most remarkable man among the Italian lords, whether we consider his own learning or his generous patronage of learn- ing, was Frederic of Montelbltro, Duke of Urbino. Sent in his youth to Mautna in order to escape the plague, he there 62 The Revival of Letters in the [Jan., became the pupil of Vittorino, and acquired a lasting love of letters, which his campaigns, first under Francis Stbrza and Kiccolo Piccinino, the two leading condottieri of Italy, and then his long military life, as the leader of hired soldiers in the employment of the Kings of Naples and of the Popes, never drove out of his mind, lie read Aristotlesays Vespasian, whose life of him is the most extended in his series,the ethics, the politics, the books on natural history and on philo- sophy, being in fact the first of the Seigniors who bestowed his time on philosophy or had any knowledge of it. He had theology also read to him in the first part of St. Thomas Aquinas, and in other works of his, and was exceedingly attached to the doctrine of St. Thomas, which appeared to him a clear doctrine, as it is, and much did he defend it. When the talk was of St. Thomas and of Scotus, he said that Scotus indeed was very subtle in his opinions, nevertheless the doe- tril)e of St. Thomas was more clear. He had a very great knowledge of the holy Scriptures, and of the ancient doctors, as St. Ambrose, St. Jerome, St. Augustine, St. Gregory, of whom he wanted to procure the entire works. His curiosity ex- tended also to the Greek fathersnaturally as far as they were translated,and as for the Gentile writers he read them all, and that frequently, and had read to him Livy, Sallust, Quintus Curtins, Justin, Cesars commentaries, which he very highly extolledall Plutarchs forty-eight lives, translated by various hands, he read them all, also Spartian with the other writers of the later Roman empire, zErnilius Probus on dis- tin gui shed fk~rei gn generals, (i. e. Cornelius Nepos), Cornelius Tacitus, and the lives of the twelve Cesars by Suetonius. On one Occasin, says Prof. Yoigt, quoting from the commen- taries of Pius IT., when he was escorting that Pope at the head of twelve troops of cavalryhe spoke with the learned Pope on the armor of the ancients, and on the Trojan war, which seemed to him to have been no great affair, and then the two could not agree with one another respecting the boundaries of Asia Minor. Of Fred erics love of music, painting, sculp- ture, and architecture, of the costly buildings he erected at Ur- bino and elsewhere of the library which he founded at the 1865.1 Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. 63 expense of 40,000 ducats, of the honors he paid to literary men, and his munificence to them, we cannot here speak at large. No Italian prince of his age or of the century can have surpassed him in liberality, nnless it be Alfonso of Na- ples, and Nicholas V., whose resources were far more ample. He died in 1482, and was succeeded by his accomplished son, Guido or Guidobaldo, with whom the race expired in 1508A~ Turning now to the more important and most wealthy state of Venice, we shonld expcct to find learning and the human- istic spirit in their bloom here, but this was not the case3 owing, no doubt, to the spirit of the Venetian aristocracy, which was political and money-making, rather than inclined to letters. The tics between Venice and the eastern lands inhabited by Greeks were close, and this was the landing place of all who left their homes for a refuge in Western Europe, yet even Greek learning was more cultivated in other parts of Italy than here. And the prominence of the Venetian press in the second period of humanism, was not so much due to the litera- ry spirit of the republic, as to the position of Venice as a center of commerce and transportation. Many humanists had a temporary abode at Venice, but the indigenous ones worthy of mention are the Guistiniani, and the Barbari. Leonardo Guistiniani, brother of Lorenzo, who was patriarch of Grado and was put after his death on the canon of saints, was born of noble parents about 1388, studied under Guarino, and attained a good knowledge of Greek, so as to be selected with Francesco l3arbaro to compliment in Greek time Emperor John Pal~ologus, when he visited Venice in 1423. Leonardo, by the persuasion of Guarino, translated several of the lives of Plutarch, and cultivated Italian poetry; but his important public employments demanded the greater part of his time, and his humanistic spirit is shown chiefly by his correspondence with scholars, and his unwearied diligence * Vespasian describes his libr ry particularly, and gives a list of the edifices built by his direction. The life of him by the Florentine bookseller, who speaks only good of everybody, is more than usually eu!ogistic, both as being dedicated to Duke Guido, his son, and as relating to one who no doubt bad been a good friend and patron of the biographer and of his copyists. 64 The I?evivaZ of Letters in the [Jan., in collecting books. He died in 1416. His son, Bernardo, born in 1408, a scholar of Guarino, of Filelfo and of George of Trebisond, belongs as much to the next period as to this, since he died in 1489. Amid many public cares he found leisure to compose a work in fifteen books on the early history of Venice, from its foundation to the ninth century, which was the first essay on early Venetian history since the revival of letters. Francesco Barbaro, born in Venice about 1398, at- tained to unusual skill in Greek and Latin, under John of IRa- venna, it is said, Gasparino of Barzizza, Guarino, and Vitto- rino of Feltre. His whole life was spent in the service of the republic, yet h~ kept up a diligent study of letters, and an ac- tive correspondence with the principal humanists of Italy, who, however much they quarreled among themselves, found him a common friend. He died in 1454. His works are a number of orations, a treatise de re uxor~a, translations of two lives of Plutarch, an account of the siege of Bresciaby Xi- col6 Piccinino, sustained when Francesco was capitano of that city, and a large number of letters, either on public affairs or on subjects of learning. His nephew, Ermolao Barbaro the elder, born in 1410, after receiving, like the uncle, the rudi- ments of Greek from Guarino of Verona, entered into the Pa- pal service, became an apostolical protonotary, and afterwards obtained preferment as bishop of Treviso and then of Verona. He died at Venice in 1471, leaving manuscript writings which have never seen the light. Another Ermolao Barbaro, a grand- son of Francesco, who belongs more properly to the next pe- riod, was born in 1454, and educated partly under the eye of his cousin, the first Ermolao, at Verona, and partly under Porn- ponius Letus at Home, and at the University at Padna. At the age of 19 he made a translation of Themistius, which was printed some years afterward. In his earlier years lie explained some of the Greek classics in his own house to young men, Theocri tus, Demosthenes, or Aristotleand the concourse be- came so numerous as to resemble the audience in a University. He was sent by the republic several times on embassies, among the rest to Innocent VIII., who named him patriarch of Aqni- leja in 1491. For accepting this preferment, he was banished 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centurie8. 65 from Venice, and lived at Rome until 1493, when the plague took him off at the early age of 39. Of his works there have seen the light besides some orations, letters, epigrams, and pre- lections, the translation of Themistius already nfentioned, that of iDioscorides, and that of Aristotles rhetoric, a compend of the morals and of the physical works of the Stagirite, and cor- rections of Plinys natural historya work of vast erudition. No other capital or center of learning remains except Rome, for Genoa and Siena produced nothing worthy of note, and we have gone the rounds already of the other principal Italian cities. While the Popes were away from Rome, they naturally carried with them the most learned men of their train as scribes and secretaries, or as higher officers of their courts. When the schism occurred in 1378, the Roman Pope naturally had the advantage over the Pope of Avignon in the superior education of his servants, but Rome, until the conncil of Con- stance healed the schism, could not be called a center of learn- ing nor of the humanistic spirit. The first Popes after the coun- cil of Constance had no especial sympathy with letters. This was true of Martin V. and was true also of Eugenius IV. in himself considered, although his court could not escape from the influences of the new movement, and there were gathered around him a number of men zealous for the new light of hu- manism, far more so indeed than for the old light of Christian- ity or for the cause of the Papacy itself We have referred to the attempts of Eugenius to neutralize the influence of the council of Basel, to the council of Ferrara, where the Greek and Latin churches met to inquire whether a union could be effected, and to the removal of the council to Florence, which brought the papal court within the atmosphere of humanism in that city. To Florence the Pope had fled from the fury of the Roman people and the hostility of the Colonnas, in 1434, and did not remove his court back again to Rome until 1443. These were years of great moment for the Roman court and for the papacy, in which the leaven of heathen learning began to work more perceptibly than before, and to infuse another spirit of thinking and judging into the tenacious mass of the papal system. VOL. XXXV. 5 66 The Revival of Letters in the [Jan., Among the persons whose official position drew them to Florence while the papal court was there, was a priest named Thomas Parentucelli, called Thomas of Sarzana, from the birthplace of his mother. He was born in 1398, at Pisa as it is probable, and of humble parents. He lost his father at the age of nine, and although poor, was able to commence his studies at Bologna, and even to take the degree of Master of Arts at the age of eighteen. His money being now spent, he repaired to Florence to better his condition, and became a pri- vate tutor first for a year in the family of iRainaldo degli Al- bizzi, and then for another year in that of Palla Strozzi. In the palaces of these most eminent Florentines he must have caught the spirit of the place, and it was of great influence on his subsequent career that he was led to this Italian Athens. Having saved enough to resume his studies, he went back to Bologna, and became doctor of theology in his twenty-second year. lNiccok Albergati, afterwards Cardinal di Santa Croce, was then bishop there,an ascetic man of the order of Char- treuse, (Certosa), who, finding him out, made him his major- domo or steward, and at the age of twenty-five gave him priestly ordination. From this time until the Cardinals death in 1443, Tommaso was his inseparable companion, going with him on his embassies undertaken by command of the Pope, into France, England, and Burgundy, to compose the differences in those countries, or into Germany on a similar errand of pacification; where, as Vespasian says, he endured much from the barbarous hardness of the parties concerned, or into north- ern Italy to make peace between Milan, Venice, and Florence. In these missions of the cardinal, Thomas was of great use to him, and acquired political wisdom without losing his early love for letters. This love was kindled anew when Pope Eugenius removed his court from Rome to Florence, whither he was ac- companied by the Cardinal di Santa Croce and his attendants. Close by the Popes palace the leading scholars of the city and of the papal court were wont to assemble morning and evening for learned discourse Leonard of Arezzo, Manetti, Poggio, Charles of Arezzo, Anrispa, Gasparo of Bologna, a very learned man, and many others. In this company Thomas found it a 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. 67 privilege to be, after he had accompanied the Cardinal to the palace, and was free from immediate employment. Nor was he a silent listener, although modest and unpretending, but a vehement disputer, whenever any discussion was going on. His powers of debate were called forth in the discussions at Ferrara and Florence with the Greeks, concerning the proces- sion of the Holy Spirit. He was among the principal deba- ters,as Vespasian assures ns,and one of the most esteemed, owing to his knowledge of Holy Scripture and of the doc- tors, ancient and modern, Greek and Latin. In the throng which the council had~ collected, there were Abyssinian, Ar- menian, and Jacobite Christians, whom it was important to bring back into the church: it was made the especial duty of Thomas to attempt this, and he performed his task with suc- cess. Nor were his employments those of the ecclesiastic only, but at the request of Cosimo, who was arranging the library of St. Mark, he suggested the way of so doing, which was followed not only there, but in the library of the Badia of Fiesole, and in those of the Duke of llTrbino, and of Alexander Sforza. Thomas was not only a reader but also, although poor, a collector of books. He never went out of Italy, as a com- panion of his cardinal on public service, without picking up some work which was not known south of the Alps. So speaks the bookseller again, and mentions several works which he brought with him, but they are works of the fathers or the doc- tors. In a letter to Niccok Niccoli he mentions having seen a copy of Gregory Nazianzen, a very old Lactantius, a codex from a French Carthusian convent, containing amongst other things, twelve epistles of Ignatius and one of Polycarp, another of Irenams, which he was expecting to obtain from the same place,* a Cornelius Celsus, and others besides. In 1443 Cardinal Albergati, his patron, died, and the Pope relieved the poverty of Thomas in some degree by making him Apostolical subdeacon, with a salary of three hundred d acats. This, if we are not deceived, was his first public place, outside * His patron, Albergati, being an honored Cnrthnsian, and a lover of letters also, probably aided him in thns obtaining access to these works. 68 The Revival of Lettere in the [Jan. of the Cardinals family, lie was now employed by the Pope in legations to France, Burgundy, Florence, Naples, and Ger- many. In Germany he succeeded in breaking up a combina- tion of the electors adverse to the interests of the Pope, and intended to further the views of the council of Basel. For his public services, he was elevated to the bishopric of Bologna in 1444, and was made a Cardinal in 1446. His bishopric, how- ever, brought him nothing, as Bologna was not under obedi- ence to the Pope. He was therefore still so poor that it was hard work for him to find the means to pay his traveling ex- penses. On passing through Florence to go to France and Germany, he called on me, says the old bookseller, and his first words were that the Pope was poor and he himself very poor, having had no income from his see, and that Pope Eugenin s, having no money, could not give him enough to carry him into France. Then he turned to me and said, I want you to go to Cosimo, and pray him to let me have a hundred ducats until my return, and tell him why. I went to Cosimo, and, said he, I will do better than he asks, and forthwith he sent Robert iMiartelli to him, and he said that he had a commission from Cosimo de Medici to make out a general letter for him to all the companies and correspondents of the banking house, that they should pay him whatever sum he might desire. In his days of affluence and grandeur, Thomas did not forget this and other kindnesses of the wealthy Florentine. Thou knowest, said he to the same Vespasian, soon after he had reached his highest dignity, how many benefits Cosimo con- ferred on me in my needs, and for this I wish to reward him; therefore, to-morrow I will make him my depositary (my baniker). There was a time during the jubilee, when the bank of the IMledicis held on deposit, subject to Popes order, more than a hundred thousand forms. On the death of Eugenius in 1447, this poor and unpretend- ing lover of letters reached the highest dignity in the western church, and took the name of Nicholas V., in honor, as we sup- pose, of the ascetic Cardinal whom he had served with exem- plary fidelity and affection a good part of his life. The few years of his reign are marked by events important to the 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centur~es. 69 church and to society. In less than two years the hermit duke of Savoy, who had been created Pope by the fathers at Basel and had taken the name of Felix V., resigned his title, and thus a schism of some ten years standing is happily ended. The next year, being the year of jubilee, brought immense crowds to Rome, and great sums into the papal coffers, by which the Pope was better enabled to Tulfill his liberal thoughts. The first years of the second half of the century are the date of important inventions in the printing art. In 1453 the English lose all their French possessions except Calais, and in the same year Constantinople yields to iMlahomet II. With these events the conspiracy of Stephen Porcari, at Rome, is contemporane- ous. Italy enjoys a state of unusual tranquillity during the papacy of Nicholas. But it is our part to consider him as a humanist and a Ma~ce. nas of humanists, the patron of letters beyond all the men of his time. In the poverty, says Mr. Voigt, which had ac- companied him up to the apostolical seat, we must find the cause why he showed himself so condescending and munificent a Thecenas in his new elevation. In Florence nothing had ap- peared to him so lofty as the splendor in which science and art there clothed themselves, nothing seemed to him so mean and unworthy as that artists and literati should be left to starve. For buildings and books, he was accustomed even then to say, he would like to spend all his money. He found in Cosimo de Medici a M~cenas who knew how to give assist- ance in an honorable and friendly way, and his pleasantest thoughts and dreams followed this ideal. In accordance with this remark, while Pope INicholas V. did not neglect the supervision of the interests of the church nor show himself indifferent to the progress of Christianity, as he understood it, his main current of zeal ran in the direction of buildings and books. A warm and zealous Christian, a warm and zealous IRomanist he seems not to have been, nor even a very warm and zealous supporter of the papal authority. He presents to us the spectacle of an honest, sincere, virtuous, ardent, and somewhat choleric man, unselfish and liberal even to profusion, in whom the humanistic spiritits love of letters, 70 f/ike Ji?evivcd of Letters in the [Jan., its love of famealmost prevailed over the churchly, and cooled or neutralized the Christian. How nulike to his predecessors lighting against the COuncils of Constance and Base], on behalf of the monarchical principQ in the church against the aristo- cratic; how unlike to his successors, especially to that other Ma~cenas Leo X. to whom Christianity was nothing, and to whom the papacy meant the powe~ of enjoying the world with the least care and restraint. The plans of Nicholas in the way of public edifices were so vast that a half century could scarcely have brought them to completion. They are given at large by Manetti,* and con- templated in part the ornamentation of Rome, as the capital of the Christian world, and in part the more perfect protection of the Pope and his court against enemies without and against the rebellious people. The Borgo with the Vatican was to be enclosed in a mighty wall, and the palace itself restored and enlarged. Here and all over Rome restorations were prosecu- ted, as well as in various parts of the State; and to mention but one part of the Popes design, a library was to be added to the Vatican to contain the new collection of books. These collection of books and the gathering of learned men at Rome concern us more intimately. With the accession of Nicholas a jubilee began for the humanists, and the Pope stood almost literally in his reception room with a purse of money in his hand for every hnmanist who might honor him with a call, regarding himself as the honored and obliged party. A great object was the gathering together of a library which was either to be procured by purchasing manuscripts already copied, or by setting scribes at the work of copying, or by employing learned men in the higher work of translations. He sent his explorers, says Manetti, through all Italy and the northern countries, and both before and after the fall of Constantinople learned men were employed at great salaries to ransack Greece for manuscripts. Scribes were set at work both in and out of the city, to write off both Greek and Latin authors. The * Manettis life of Nicholas V. is contained in part 2 of VoL 3 of Muratoris Rer. Ital. Script. 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth C~enturie8. 71 translations made for him, many of them by the first scholars, were either new or intended to replace earlier ones which had been done when Greek was less understood. Manetti mentions two poetical translations of the Iliad, Strabo, Herodotus, Thucy- dides, Xenophon, Polybius, Diodorus Siculus, Appian, Philo Judams, most of which had never before appeared in a Latin dress. Many works of Plato, Aristotle, and Theophrastus, as the IRepublic and the Laws, Aristotles posterior Analytics, his physics, problems, metaphysics, magna moralia, and books de animali~us, as also Theophrastus de plantis, were now either first translated or first put into intelligible Latin. So also a number of the Greek ecclesiastical writers went through the same processEusebius de pra?paratione evangelica, works Qf iDionysius the Areopagite, of Basil, of Gregory Nazianzen, of Chrysostom, and of Cyrill. The authors of most of these translations are known to us from Vespasian. Guarino translated Strabo,as we have already seen ;llerodotus and Thucydides fell into the hands of Laurentius Yalla; Xenophon and Diodorus into those of Poggio; Niccol5 Perotti worked on Polybius; Theodore of Gaza, on Theophrastus deplanti.s, and the problems of Aristotle; George of Trebisond on other works of the same philosopher. Among the ecclesiastical translations, that of the pseudo- Dionysius belongs to Ambrogio Traversari, and others to George already mentioned. Many other works were translated or composed at the request of his Holiness, says Vespasian, of which I have no knowledge. II have written only that of which I have a knowledge. About 5000 books were thus collected by the efforts of Nich- olas, which formed the nucleus of the Yatican. Towards the leading scholars of his day, Nicholas manifested the most profuse liberality. We have already told the story of his generosity to Filelfo on his passing through Rome, and of the price paid to Guarino and to Loreuzo Yalla for the trans- lations which they executed. Manetti says of himself, that he had been enjoying the salary of a secretary from his old friend the Pope without being at Rome or performing any literary work, when, in the seventh year of the papacy of Nicholas, 72 The Revival of Letter,~ i~, the [Jan., he was sent for, and began his book in defense of Christianity against Jews and Gentiles, as also his original translation of Scriptnres.* Nicholas Perotti, when he presented to the Pope his translation of Polybius, received in return live hundred papal ducats, all new, in a purse, with the remark that this was not equal to his merits, but, in time, enough would come to make him content. It has already appeared that the court of Nicholas V. was crowded with literary men, for whom salaries were provided in compensation for easy and pleasant work, and to whom often princely donations were given besides. Poggio the veteran and Valla were there, the latter received with favor, notwith- standing the bad odor in which he stood on account of his free thinking, and as bitter still toward the professor of elo- quence, George of Trebisond, as he had been toward his litera- ry brethren at Naples. Aurispa in his old age comes to IRome for a while to be confirmed in his office of secretary, and to receive benefices from the willing patron of letters. So, also, Pier Candido Deceinbrio, withdrawing from Milan, obtains a secretary ship, and then the supervision of the abbreviators, or clerks to whom the preparation of papal briefs was committed. Ut the visit of Filelfo to Rome we have already spoken: it was greatly to the surprise of his enemies that he too received with a golden gift the honorary appointment of a secretary, and the assurance of such a provision, that neither he nor his posterity should suffer want. To these names we add that of Giovanni Tortello, an eminent grammarian, who composed a valuable work de orthographict for the Pope,t and who, be- sides being continued in the office of Cubicularius or gentle- man in waiting, which he held under Eugenius, had now the important additional one of librarian. One man of considerable eminence and great worth, Biondo * Vespasiano adds of Aristotle, but concerning this Manetti says nothincr 0~ Manetti, says Mr. Voigt, was not inclined to forsake Florence until banishment, for some unknown reason, forced him to do so. He now received a salary of 0(10 scudi withont obligation to do any work. 1 Voigt, p. 316. An excellent lexicon, says Voigt, for copyists and emenders of texts. 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. 73 Flavio,or Flavio Biondo, as some write his name,fell, for some reason or other, under the displeasure of Nicholas. He was a native of Forli, born in 1388, and he died in 1463. While yet young, he was sent by his townspeople to transact some public affairs at Milan, and there was the first to copy a newly found manuscript of Ciceros treatise de claris oratori- bus. He enjoyed the esteem of Francis IBarbaro, and may have served him for a time as his chancellor in the government of Bergamo. Not long after the accession of Eugenius to the papacy, he was invited to Rome to act as one of the apostoli- cal secretaries, and continued to hold that office under the three successors of Eugenius until his death. Pius IT. (IEneas Syl- vms), had a great esteem for him. Nicholas gave ear to some calumnies against him, but he seems to have been restored to favor towards the end of that Popes life, when he presented to him his Italia illustrata. He appears to have been a most estimable man, far superior in character to the mass of the hu- manists and removed from their jealousies and ambitions. His path lay bne side from theirs. Slightly versed in Greek, not partaking much of the ~esthetic spirit of humanism, he was the antiquarian of thetime. In the work above mentioned he gayc a description of Italy according to the fourteen regions into which it was anciently divided, and examined the early state of each province and city. In his J?o2na instaurata, a work, says Tiraboschi, of marvelous learning for the time, he described the architectural monuments of ancient Rome. This was dedicated to Eugenius. Tn a later work, Rorn~a triu~n- phans, dedicated to Pius TI., he gave an account of the political, legal, and religious antiquities of Rome. In this he was very much the path-breaker. Comp. Yoigt, p. 305, and Tiraboschi, vol. vi., book 3, at the beginning. Here too a number of Greeks deserve mention, who were employed chiefly as copyists or as translators, and who had, besides the Pope, another willing and able patron in their own countryman, Cardinal Bessarion.* * For the Greeks the principal work still is humphrey Hody, (Prof. at Ox. ford, etc.) de Greecis illustribus Linguce Grceca instauratoribus, Lend. P742, a 74~ fl/ike Revival of Letters in the [Jan., Bessarion, a native of Trebisond, was born in 1395, and studied first at Constantinople and afterwards in the Morea, where he had, it is said, Geinistus Pletho, the Platonist, for his master. He became an ecclesiastic, and had acquired such a reputation, when the council of Ferrara was on the carpet, a~ to be selected to represent the Greeks there, at which time also he was promoted to be Bishop of Nicala. He repaired to the council, and at first defended Greek orthodoxy, but in process of time decided to accept of fihioque and of the Roman Pope, renounced his schism and his country,which, indeed, it was not hard to give up as things were, if something better should offer,and from this time was domiciled in Italy as a Roman ecclesiastic. In 1439 Pope Eugenius raised him to the dignity of a Cardinal, and thereupon he gave himself to the study of Latin, which he learned to write. Nicholas V. ap- pointed him legate at Bologna, and he exerted himself to re- store the University there, which political troubles had weak- ened. Other public missions, whether undertaken to effect a league against the Turks, or to reconcile Louis XI. and Charles the Bold, were put into his hands. lIe died in 1472 in return- ing from this last embassy. Bessarions importance did not consist in his theological writings,which were chiefly confined to the points of differ- enee between the eastern and western churches, and were, as Mr. Voigt somewhat bitterly says, a justification of his aposta- sy,nor in his philosophical, in which he strove against the in- clination of the Aristotelians unduly to exalt their head at the expense of Plato,nor in his general weight of mind, and large- ness of views, which were by no means remarkable. But it was as a fosterer of learning, a collector of books, a friend of his unfortunate countrymen that he appears to the most ad- vantage. He was in truth a Pope Nicholas, moving in a smaller orbit, surrounded like him by a learned coterie, of whom, be- posthumous work published by Dr. S. Jebb. See for him Allibones dictionary. Comp. also Heerens gesch. des stud. der class. Literatur. vol. ii., Tiraboschi, and XToigt. For their works see Fabricius Bib]. GrEee, ed. Harless, the last vol- ume, and Dr. W. Smiths dictionary of Biography and Mythology. 1865.1 Fourteenth and Fifteenth ~Jenturie8. 75 sides some of the Greeks, Niccol6 Perotti and Platina ~vhom we shall speak of when we enter into the next period, were the most remarkable members. Mr. Yoigt thinks that Nicholas ont of jealousy kept him away from IRome during the five years of his legation at Bologna, bnt nnder Pius II. and Paul II. he became almost the center of literary activity in the Papal city. An academy or reunion met for some years at his house, where questions in philosophy were discussed, and Latin literature received a share of attention. A part of his income was constantly demanded to help his countrymen, es- pecially after the fall of Constantinople, and he educated at his own charge a number of young Greeks at the University of Padua. Another portion was devoted to the collection of books; and his library of 600 codices, on which he spent more than 30,000 scudi, was left, to the great chagrin of the literati at Rome, to the republic of Yenice. Among the Greeks who appeared at the council of Ferrara and Florence was George Gemistus, also called Pletho, the in- structor of Bessarion in philosophy. We know little of the events of his life, either before or after his coming into Italy. He held before that visit some public place under the Byzan- tine emperor in the Morea, to which he seems to have returned, and he is said to have died in extreme old age. Without go- ing over the dam, as Bassarion did, into IRomanism, he favored the union of the two churches. He is principally memorable as an accurate and earnest student of the works of Plato, and must be regarded as the first person that laid the foundation for the cultivation of a more accurate acquaintance with that philosophy in Western Europe. His works are more valuable than those of most of the Greek emigrants. Among these emigrants of an early time, George of Trebi- sond, so called not from his birthplace, which was in Crete, but from the origin of his family, deserves mention. He was born in 1395 and came to Italy about the year 1420, when we find him under the care, as it were, of Francis Barbaro, who seeks the academical place for him which Filelfo was about to leave in order to go to Constantinople. In the learning of Latin he had for his masters Gnarino and Vittorino. From 76 The Revival of Letters in the [Jan., Vicenza, where he was unsuccessful, he makes his way to Ven- ice, and teaches eloquence there for some years. From Venice the influence of his friend Barbaro paved his way to Rome, he having already renounced the Greek error~,to become an orthodox Catholic. At Rome the field of his instructions was the same as before, but he had an advantage ovev the occident- als, through his superior knowledge of the Peripatetic philoso- phy, in applying those principles of rhetoric which Aristotle had laid down. Here too he occupied himself with transla- tions, and when the palmy days of Nicholas V. came on, re- ceived some of the fruits of his munificence. On one occasion it is said, when the Pope made him a present, he blushed, which the other observing said, take, take, for thou wilt not always have a Nicholas. He also received the appointment and the pa~y of apostolical scribe. Trapezuntius, as he is called, was a disputatious, self-con- ceited, jealous, and irascible man, and when Lorenzo Yalla came to Rome the cjnarrel broke out between them, to which we have alluded, concerning the relative merits of Cicero and Quintihian, the Greek taking the side of Cicero. His freedom in criticising the style of Guarino in one of his orations pro- duced a feud between the two. Poggio and he were at logger- heads because he claimed the greater part of the merit in Pog- gios translations of Xenophons Cyrop~edia and of Diodorns Siculus. Another quarrel broke out bet~een him and Theo- dore of Gaza, which the latter clearly began by publicly finding fault with a definition given by George in his lecture room. The enemies of George and his own misconduct alienated the mind of Pope Nicholas from him. In his translation of the Evangelical Preparation of Eusebius he had left out some things which seemed to him to conflict with the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity, had put in other things, and made wholesale alter- ations. This want of fidelity being made known to Nicholas by Bessarion and Perotti, the book was given to another per- son to emend. George also executed his translation of Ptole- mys Almagest, and wrote a commentary on it besides, in the brief space of nine months. When this came to the notice of the Pope, he received orders to quit Rome, and accordingly 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. removed with a considerable family in extreme want to Naples. This was in 1452. Afterwards, on the intercession of Filelfo and Barbaro, the Pope relaxed his severity and allowed him to return, but again in 1458, nuder the next Pope, his intemperate language in his comparison between Aristotle and Plato incensed the Platonists,the more as he treated Bessarion with derision,and so he was driven from Rome the second time. He now repaired to Venice and presented his translation of Platos laws to the Doge. He was favorably received, ap- pointed to lecture in the humanities at a salary of 150 ducats, and composed his rhetoric, entitled Ji?hetorica fUrabezuntia, and dedicated to the Signoria of the republic. Some years later he visited his native island and Constantinople. On his return, finding his scholar Paul II. in the papal chair, he went again to Rome with expectations of favor and assistance, which were extended to him for awhile, but in 1467 he was thrust for some unknown cause into the Castle of St. Angelo, and staid in prison four months. He was still working for a living i~ 1471, although in extreme weakness of body. Afterwards he lost his memory entirely, and closed his uneasy, troubled life in 1484. Theodore Gaza, a rival of George, was a native of Thessa- lonica, left his lono after its occupation by the country not b Turks in 1430, and on arriving in Italy, acquired a thorough knowledge of Latin in the academy of Vittorino, so as to be considered the best writer in that language among the emigrant Greeks. In return, he gave instructions in Greek to Vittori. nos scholars. He was a professor in Ferrara during a part of the years between 1440 and 1450, from which place lie passed into the service of Nicholas V. At Rome he became intimate with Bessarion and a member of his family, but is said to have removed to Naples after the death of Nicholas, and to have returned again to IRomne on the death of his protector, King Alfonso. Having obtained a benefice in Calabria, he spent a part of his last years there, and died in 1476. He was the author of many translations from Greek into Latin, composed a grammar which was printed in 1495, turned some works of 78 The Revival of Letter8 in the [Jan., ~Dicero and other pieces from Latin into Greek, and zealously defended the philosophy of Plato against the Aristotelians. Another Greek of note, belonging to the earlier emigration, was John Argyropulus. The first thing we hear of him is that Palla Strozzi took him into his house in 1434, at Padna, during his exile from Florence, and employed him in oral translations of several Greek works, especially of Aristotles physics. He returned to Constantinople in 1441, and perhaps gave public lectures there, but was again in Italy and rector of the univer- sity of Padua in 1442. After this he was called to Florence to give lectures, taught there as many as fifteen years with great success, and was adopted among the citizens at the instance of Loreuzo de IMledici. Being devoted to the Aristotelian philoso- phy, he occupied himself especially with the works of Aristotle, and was not only at that time reckoned among the best trans- lators of them, but his renderings into Latin of the physics, of the books de ca?lo and de anima, and of the ethics, have kept their place in modern editions.* A commentary of his on the Nicomachean ethics was published by one of his scholars. In his later years he was called to lecture on Greek at Rome, when Sixtus IV. was Pope, and at this time John IReuchliu heard him read upon Thucydides. He died, it is said, at the age of 70, about the year 1486, from excess in eating watermelons. On the whole he seems to have been more genial and gifted than any ether of the Greek exiles of the first period. He avoided those bickerings to which several of his countrymen were given, although he must have excited the wrath of the Latius, when he maintained that Cicero was but little ac4uainted with the Greek language and philosophy. Other Greeks, who did a good work in the revival of Greek letters, such as Andronicus Calhistus, Demetrius Chalcondyles, Constantine and John Lascaris, more properly belong to the next period, as they emigrated into Italy after the fall of Con- stantinople. And here, in closing for the present what we have to say of the Greeks, who brought their language and literature with * Heeren II., 190. 186~.~ Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centurie8. 79 them into Europe, we cannot forbear making two remarks. The one is, that they played a part altogether subordinate to that of the Italian scholars. Their proper sphere was narrow, consisting in teaching Greek and Greek philosophy, and outside of this sphere they came into comparison to their disadvantage with the native humanists. But in their teaching of what they knew best their position was not a favorable one. They were looked on, to a considerable degree, with dislike, were unable to accommodate themselves to the public taste, and were behind the refinements of Italian society. Had they never come over, men like Filelfo and Gnarino could have imported their language and their books, and were in some measure bet- ter able to teach Greek than the Greeks themselves, as we find that an American, educated in Germany, can teach German to Americans better than the Germans. The other remark relates to the common impression of the importance of the fall of Constantinople to the progress of lit- erature in Europe. It would seem as if some thought that before that event there were neither ilellenists, nor Greeks, nor Greek books in Italy, bnt that immediately afterward there flowed in a stream of learned men and of manuscripts by a channel wholly dry before. No impression could be more false, as the whole course of our narrative has made manifest. For first we have seen that the knowledge of Greek grew in Italy from the beginning of the century, from the time of Emanuel Chrysoloras, and that, amid the many difficulties which attended the acquisition of that language, almost every Italian scholar of any pretension had some acquaintance with it; while Filelfo, Guarino, Aurispa, Leonard Bruni, and others, long before the fall of Constantinople, had become masters of it. The multitude of books translated discloses the demand for the materials embalmed in the Greek language, and the power to draw theni out of the wrappings in which they were hid. Then, again, if we compare the Greeks who, twenty years or a generation before the fall of the Byzantine capital, had obtained a standing in Italy, who were teaching in the public schools, preparing translations, or as churchmen in high places commending their native tongue, with those who established 80 The Revival of Letters in the [Jan., themselves in Italy or beyond the mountains after that event, we shall find the former to have done as much for letters and even for the cultivation of the Greek tongue as the latter. And finally a great mass of manuscripts had been brought from Greece years before Constantinople fell, as is shown both by direct acconnts of their importation, by copies made early in the fifteenth century, and by the translations that were execu- ted before 1453. It can be, then, only an inexact, a blurred view of history, that attributes to one event of tragic import- ance in the East such a power in the West. It would be more true to say that the successes of the Turks in general sent the learning of Greece on its flight into other lands; for the miser- ies and the fears began more than half a century before the crisis. Bnt to attribnte even to this permanent cause all that took place is to make too much of the fugitive Greeks and to falsify historical fact. We have found it necessary in the latter part of this essay, for the purpose of giving a clearer view of the spread of human- ism, to enter into details which may have been wearisome to our readers. And yet the use of such details, in a general esti- mate of an age, is very great. The misfortune of general views when they stand alone is, that they need to be taken upon trust, and that they will leave more or less of doubt behind them, while particulars, if they are not overpowering by their number, affect the mind of the reader as so many touchstones and evidences of the leading thoughts. We will now attempt, at the close of our essay, before entering into the second period of humanism, to sum up in a general way the modes in which this movement carried itself out, and its results on the inter- ests of thinking and of society. Our general views will need perhaps to be corrected, and certainly to be completed, when we reach the era at which humanism, as a distinct cause, was lost in and blended with the other modifying causes that deter- mined the progress of civilization. But it cannot fail to be instructive to stop here and look around us; the more, because the earlier times of humanism afford to us a striking illustra- tion of the faults to which novices and pioneers in knowledge are liable. 1885.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth Ceflturie8. 81 The first point deserving of consideration is the external side of humanism, and particularly the ways in which, the materials by which, it made its power to be felt in societ,y. The old institutions of learning, the university system, remained much as it had been before. It is rather remarkable, however, thatthe first humanists, in manyinstances,staidno long time in one place, but took more the character of wander- ing lecturers. Whether it were that they were called from place to place on account of their new and more brilliant style of teaching, or whether, like the sophists of Greece, they emptied their bag betlines, and wore out their hearers, or, again, whether their ostentatious consciousness of taking a higher position than the old professors in the universities occu- pied, may not have aroused disgust and a desire to get rid of them, we will not say, but we find them often in straits what to do, sometimes unsuccessful and obliged to give up their places, and continually working by letter for invitations to go to another city. We fancy that as the subjects they taught were not bread-studies, to adopt an expressive German word, so much as those of most other teachers, their audiences could not be calculated upon, but depended on circumstances, on the brilliancy of the lecturer, or on the influences used to get an audience, or on their novelty of method. The humanists, again, had influence as the secretaries or his- torians or companions of princes. Sometimes they act in one or more of these capacities, and are attached to the universities besides. The vast amount of writing done at IRorne, as the head of every ecclesiastical movement, the immense business of the Curia, called for many scribes, and as the humanists wrote better Latin than others, and moreover shed a lustre upon their employers by their literary works or attainments, they were naturally preferred , sought out and rewarded. As the spirit of humanism and the acquaintance with the remains of Latin writers already known grew and spread, men grew also in acquaintance with the names of unknown authors, and a conviction arose that many of these might yet be hid in monastic libraries. Accidental discoveries of new manuscripts quickened that zeal to search for remains of antiquity, which VOL. xxiv. 6 82 The Revival of Letter8 in the [Jan., curiosity would inspire. We have already seen how Petrarchs discoveries arid spirit iu this direction excited the minds of many. For some time after his death, however, there was an abatement of this zeal until it was rekindled again in the sec- ond decennium of the fifteenth century. In the year 1416, Poggio, being then at Constance, and finding his time hanging heavy on his hands, made an excursion to St. Gallen, eighteen miles distant, for the purpose of examining the codices of the celebrated abbey, from which the town took its name. In the lowest apartment of a towera place not fit, he says, for a convict to stay inhe or one of his companions found a manu- script of Quintilian de oratoria in8titutione, in the most neg- lected condition, but nearly or quite complete. This was a rare prize, for the Italian scholars had only possessed fhis important author in a fragmentary state. Poggio copied the manuscript in thirty-two days, and the copy which he trans- mitted to Florence was used by Leonard Bruni to supply and improve the imperfect manuscript which was already there.* Besides Quintilian, Poggio and his friends found in the same convent the three first books and half of the fourth of the Argonautica of Yalerius Flaccus, and the commentaries of Asconius Pedianus on eight orations of Cicero. Theii re- searches in French and German convents were rewarded by the discovery of Lucretiusalthough in a fragmentary state, of Silius Italicus, and the poem of Manilius on astronomy. * We follow Mr. Voigts statement. But there is a question whether Poggio seat the St. Gallen manuscript or a copy of it to Florence. Bandini, a very learned man, and pra4ect of the Laurentine library, declares that the codex found by Poggio is still preserved there, and Raphael ~1egius in 1491 refers to vetustum iliad exemplar, quod a Poggio Florentino e Germania allatum, nunc in magnifr centissima Laurentli Medicis biobliotheca spectatur. And Pogglo himself is said in various places to speak of the archetypon Quintiliani, as having been brought into the library of Cosimo de Medici. On the other hand, Mabillon saw at St. Gallen in 1683 a codex perantiquns, quem Poggius exscribendum accepit cx ipsa Sancti Galli bibliotheca. This codex has since the beginning of the present century been removed to Zurich and was used for Spaldin,,s edition, from whose preface we derive these facts. Can the monastery have had two codices of Quintilian, or did Bandini confound the manuscript previously existing at Flor- ence, but corrected after Poggios apograph, with his apograph itself?a blunder incredible in a learned librarian. 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centurie8. 83 At a convent of monks of Clugny, in the town of Langres, Poggio found the oration of Cicero for Anhis Ca~cina, and in various journeys brought to light seven other speeches of the iRoman orator unknown before, namely, the three de lege agra- na against IRullus, that against Piso, those for IRoscius, the comedian, for C. IRabirius, and for C. IRabirins Posturnus. The works of Vitruvius on architecture, and of Columella de re ru8tica, the grammatical treatises of Nonius Marcellus, Pris- cian, Flavius Caper, Eutyches, and Probus, and the smaller works of Lactantius, de ira Dei and de opiftojo hom1ini8, must be added to the list of discoveries made at this time, together, with those parts of the history of Aminianus Marcellinus which have come down to us. The little treatise of Yegetius on military affairs, and the work of Festus de verborum, signi- ftcatione were detected by Bartholomew of Montepulciano, to whom several of the discoveries attributed to Poggio are per- haps to be ascribed. A copy of Tertullian was found by Pog- gio in a convent of monks of Clugny at Rome, and of Fron- tinus de aqueductibus JYi?omce, as well as of Julius Firmicus on astrology in the convent of Monte Cassino. He procured from Cologne a fragment of Petronius Arbiter and the Bucolics of Calpurnins, incomplete, from some other place. Hitherto only eight comedies of Plautus had been known to humanists. But some years after the discoveries already men- tioned, word came from one Nicholas of Trier, a collector of dues for the IRoman curia, that in a German manuscript twelve additional ones were to be found. In 1429 Nicholas appeared in IRome, bringing the manuscript together with a fragment of Aulus Gellius. The Plautus fell into the hands of Cardinal Orsini, who would not permit it to be copied or consulted, until by some trick of Lorenzo de Medici (the elder), it was carried to Florence, where Traversari and Niccoli transcribed it. A year or two after the discoveries of Poggio iii Germany and France, a manuscript, so badly written as to be undecipher- able to ordinary readers, was found in a chest at Lodi, contain- ing besides works of Cicero on rhetoric that were already known, the treatises de oratore, and de claris oratoribus, or Brutus, and the orator addressed to IMI. Brutus. One Cosimo of 84 The Revival of Lettere in the [Jan., Cremona succeeded in deciphering the de orcttore (of which only fragments were in circulation before), and Biondo Flavio made a copy of the Brutus. These soon found their way through Italy. Poggio and his friends had considerable hope that the lost portions of Livy could be recovered. A Dane affirmed that he had seen in a Danish Cistercian convent three great vol- umes, one of which, according to its title, contained all the decades of that historian. Great was the interest excited by this story, but when the search was made, it was ascertained that no such volumes had ever been known to be in the convent. Other stories furnishing hopes concerning Livy and other wri- ters proved equally illusory, so that when word came from the above mentioned Nicholas of Trier, that missing works of Tacitus were extant in Germany, Poggio put no confidence in the report, and took no pains to have a search instituted. And yet the manuscript containing the first six books of the annals of Tacitus made its appearance in the days of Leo X., and was bought by him for 500 sequins. Later searches in the convents of the North were less re- warded than those of Poggio. Pope Nicholas V. despatched persons on this errand, chief among whom appears to have been one Enoch of Ascoli, who, however, seems to have fallen upon the traces of few authors not known before. Nothing more important than Apicius de re coquinaria and Porphyrios com- mentary on brace is known to have been the fruit of his in- vestioations, within the limits of the Latin church. With these discoveries of Latin manuscripts kept pace the importation of Greek books into Italy. Early in the fifteenth century, if not before, Guarino returned from Constantinople, bringing, it is said, two chests of books with him, one of which was destroyed by shipwreck on the way. In the year 1423, Aurispa came back to his native country, and in a letter of his to Ambrogio Traversari he represents himself to have brought with him 238 codices of profane authors, not includ- ing about 200 letters of Gregory Nazianzen, and other works of the Greek fathers which he had sent to his native island of Sicily. Among the profane writers he mentions Procopius, 1865j Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. 85 the poems of Callimachus, Pindar, Oppian, and those ascribed to Orphens, the commentary of Aristarchus (so he calls Eu- stathius) on the Iliad, all of Plato, Proclus, Plotinus, Xenophon, Lucian, the history of Arrian, IDio Cassius, Diodorus Siculus, and the geography of Strabo. In 1423 Francis Filelfo, if he can be believed, brought back from Greece a rich treasure of manuscripts. In a letter to Traversari he thus speaks: qui mihi nostri in Italiam libri gesti sunt, horum nornina ad te scribo: alios autem nonnullos per primas ex Byzantio Yen etiorum naves opperior. Hi an- tern sunt Plotinus, iElianus, Aristides, Dionysius ilalicarnas- seus, Strabo Geographus, Hermogenes, Aristotelis rhetorice, IDionysius ilalicarnasseus de numeris et characteribus (what can he mean if not the tract on the character of the style of Thucydides?); Thucydides, Plutarchi tuoralia, Proclus in Pla- tonem, Philo Juda~us, ilerodotus, Dio Chrysostomus, Apollo- nius Perg~uus (i. e. the four first books of his conic sections); Ethica Aristotelis, ejus magna moralia et Eudemia, et ceconona- ica, et politica, qua~dam Theophrasti opuscula; Homeri Ilias, Odyssea; Philostrati de vita Apollonii, orationes Libanii et aliqui sermones Luciani; t~indarus, Aratus, Euripidis tragcedhe septem, Theocritus, Hesiodus; S nidas; Phalaridis, ilippro- cratis, Platonis et multorum ex veteribus philosophis epistohe; Demosthenes, iEschinis orationes et epistoke, pleraque Xeno- phontis opera, una Lyske oratio; Orphei Argonautica et Hymni, Callimachus; Aristotelis de historia animalium, physica et metaphysica, et de anima, de partibus animalium, et alia qined- dam; Polybius; nonnulli sermones Chrysostomi; Dionysiaca (i. e. the poem of Nonnus), et alii poeta3 plurimi. Habes quae mihi sunt, et his utere a~que ac tuis.* Cardinal iMIai says that the new treatises of Philo from the Greek published by him were extracted from a codex once belonging to Filelfo.t * Cited by Shepherd, (life of Poggie), from Ambrog, Travers, opera 2. 1010. t Spicilegium Rom. 1. 636, containing Vespasians lives. These are the small works de cophino, and de honorandis rarentibus to be found in the Leipzig Philo of 1828, first edited by Mai in 1818 at Milan. We have no reference here to the much more extensive works translated from the Armenian, and not known to exist in Greek. 86 The Revival of Letter8 in the [Jan., This with the nature of the catalogue itself is proof that Filelfo told the truth when he gave himself out as the owner of such a noble and costly collection. What became of these precious books of Aurispa and Filelfo we are unable to say. As Filelfo was always in need of mon- ey, it is probable that his must have gone from him crc long, and been laid up among the treasures of the libraries in Italy. From this time until the fall of Constantinople, the notices of the arrival of Greek manuscripts from the East are scanty. The numerous learned Greeks who attended the council of Ferrara and Florence must, in the aggregate, have brought with them many of their countrys literary treasures, and We may take it for granted that not a few church writers came into Italy at this time. The agents of the iMiedicean banking house could not fail to have been on the lookout for books in the eastern towns where they resided, and individuals who had commercial relations with Yenice, or who fled before the Turks like Theodore Gaza, must not unfrequently have put chests or packages of them on shipboard, as being in demand among the occidentals or as companions of jheir exile. We find the traveler Cyriac of Ancona, although his vocation was not to hunt for books, purchasing on one occasion a very beautiful codex of the New Testament for twenty scudi of gold, and again in the island of Cyprus becoming owner of the Iliad and Odyssey, the tragedies of Euripides, and other works; and still again in Adrianople and Thessalonica making considerable pur- chases of manuscripts. Particulars like these show us that a quarter of a century before the fall of the Byzantine capital, Italy had received a large number of the most precious monuments of ancient Greek thought, that many of them were brought over by Ital- ians themselves, and that Italy, as far as books are concerned, was quite able, even before Bessarion and Nicholas V. made their collections, to lay an independent foundation of Greek learning,the principal want as yet being that of grammars and lexicons for beginners. The material remains of antiquity naturally excited less in- terest by far in the first age of humanism than the literary. 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. 87 Poggio, B~ondo Flavio, and others deplored and explored the ruins of IRome. Niccol6 Niccoli had a nice eye and taste for objects of virth, rather as curiosities, however, than as reveal- ing ancient life. Few comparatively, like many English trav- elers now, gave themselves np to the examination of remains for their own sake. The most eminent of these was Cyriaco de Pizzocolli of Ancona, who was born in 1391, and died soon after 1450. He was by vocation a merchant, and held more than one important office in his native city, bnt an inextinguish- able thirst for wandering, at first the mere pleasure of a rest- less mind, then curiosity to explore and discover, united with vanity and love of distinction, goaded him on from journey to journey, until the end of his life. He seems to have died at Cremona in one of these exploring tours. He formed an early acquaintance with Cardinal Condolmieri, when he was the Popes legate in the march of Ancona, and was by him em- ployed, as treasurer and acconntant of the sums expended in improving the port. The same Cardinal, when he became Pope, under the name of Eugenins IV., extended to him his protection, but the journeys and researches of Cyriaco were undertaken, we believe, on his own account. He traveled through all parts of Italy, several times into Greece, into Syria, and Egypt, and projected a visit to Persia which he never un- dertook. Everywhere he collected inscriptions, examined buildings, picked up coins and other remains of ancient art. To the books which he gathered, while in quest of other things, we have already referred. He was at first by his education ill fitted to be a scientific traveler, but with small help from others he learned Latin so as to write it after a fashion, and afterward acquired a knowledge both of the vernacular and the classical Greek. He formed a multitude of acquaintances as he circu- lated through the towns of italy, and was in general well spoken of, although, on account of his boastfulness and self conceit, and of his imperfect scholarship, some of the Floren- tines regarded him as a charlatan. Poggio in his abusive way calls him silly, fickle, garrulous, stolid, one who con- founds Greek words with Latin, has a rude and barbarous style, has brought nothing but levity and folly with him 88 The Revival of Lette~8 in the [Jan., from Greece, a man full of debts, and worthy of being beaten with a club rather than with the tongue. But the violence of Poggio is explained in part by the fact, that in a literary dispute between him and Guarino, Cyriac had taken sides with the latter. Suspicions of his good faith seem to be in the mind of Ambrogio Traversari, when he says in a letter to Niccoli, I have fallen in with Cyriac, the antiquary. He showed me gold and silver coins, those which you yourself have seen. He showed me the effigies of Lysim- achus, Philip, and Alexander. But whether they are Mace- donian T donbt. I saw the effigy of Scipio Junior on an onyx stone, as he said, and it was of great beauty. Pier Candido Decembrio ~again mentions that Philip Maria Visconti, Lord of Milan, had an interview with Cyriac, who talked large, but lie knowing him to be an impostor would have nothing to do with him. These unfavorable opiniofls, growing partly out of the mans nature, have led many writers to distrust Cyriac, and even Mr. Yoigt seems to lean to this side. But the greater probability is that he was as honest as Poggio was, although rude and confused in speech, and both enthusiastic and boast- ful. Prof. Boeckli calls him, in the preface to his great work on Greek inscriptions, a careful and true man, wrongfully suspected of imposture, and in a note adds that very many of his inscriptions are yet extant on the marbles, while others since he traveled have been obliterated, or built into housewalls, or turned into lime, a thing done in Italy also, and~forbidden by Leo X He is not then to be classed with a Fourmont or a Golz, but deserve& our confidence, and affords a noteworthy in- stance of a novel direction, which the age of humanism gave to an inquisitive although ill disciplined mind. As soon as new books in Latin or Greek were known to ex- ist, multitudes in this age of growing curiosity being eager to get a sight of them, the Latin were multipled by copy, the ~reek by copy and translation. Very little was as yet done in the way of turning the remains of either language into the vernacular tongue, as Latin was well known and Italian looked down npon. Many scholars and dilettanti copied for them- selves. We have seen Poggio at this work, and Niccol~ Nic 1865.] Fourteenth and F9fteenth Centuries. 89 coli was very assiduous and nice in his transcripts, taking care also to correct errors by the help of other copies. On account of their scarcity the newly obtained work passed from one friend to another, and there are more complaints than one in the letters of this period, of the unreasonable detention of books, and the refusal to restore them. As the demand became great for books, and princes or wealthy burghers desired to form or enlarge libraries, the copyists and to a degree the illu- minators also, had plenty to do ;to thirty of them at once Frederic of Urbino gave employment. So also the booksell- ers,such as the often cited Yespasiano,who apparantly executed orders for public libraries, and had books transcribed on their own account. Books were dear both by reason of the labor put into them, and because the demand in an age eager for such things iucreased faster than the supply. For a copy of Ciceros letters ad familiares a certain Melchior, a book- seller of Milan, asked ten ducats, and Beccadelli gave Poggio 120 gold scudi for a copy of Livy, in order to do which he was obliged to sell one of his estates. Books were a precious gift. By another copy of Livy, Cosimo de Medici calmed the irrita- ted mind of Alfouzo, King of Naples, who set himself to the reading of it with avidity, although his physicians suggested that it might conceal poison. So when Frederic of Urbino took Volterra in 1472, andgave it up to be sacked by his troops, the only article of plunder which he reserved for himself was a manuscript Hebrew Bible. From the time when a translation of the Iliad was made in the house of Boccaccio between him and the Greek Leontins, as the knowledge of ~A~reek increased more slowly than the curiosity to find out the treasures hidden in that language, the work of translation became an important , one, so that all the men who made any pretensions to learning, gave some of their time to this employment. Of these translations it may be said that some were undertaken in the hope of finding a pur- chaser, generally some prince or dynast who could not fail to give a round price to a scholar eminent enough to translate from the Greek, while some were performed by order of a patron, and others still may have been undertaken without 90 f/ike Revival of Letter8 in, the [Jan., hope of reward for th6 sake of self-improvement. The work of translation, like the knowledge of the two languages, went on improving; the first specimens were rude and incorrect; and hence we find that authors in great demand, or whom there was a great curiosity to see in a Latin dress, were attempted several times over, as Aristotle, Plato, and Homer. And al- thouo~h few of these translations have stood their ground, yet b the work was useful to the author of it as well as to the reader. In fact the knowledge of Greek literature was acquired far more in this way than from the books themselves. The large public libraries were the sanctuaries into which the most of these treasures, these disinterred Latin authors, these copies of them, these books and their translations, were introduced, to be preserved there in safety, for the use of schol- ars and the glory of the collectors. The principal sovereigns of Italy vied with one another in founding such libraries, in building for them magnificent structures, in supporting libra- rians and the like. Private persons of wealth also went to great expense for the same purpose. We can only allude here to the Medicean library and the private one of Cosiino at Florence, to those of King Alfonso and the duke of Urbino, to that of Pope Nicholas. As these libraries became larger and more valuable in the second age of humanism, or even were not founded until then, or suffered great changes, or were destroyed before that period ran out, we shall speak of them at greater length in the second part of this Article. Another point calling for our attention is the literary activi- ty of the humanists themselves, the ways especially in which they communicated to others the spirit which animated them so warmly, and which, as they thought, advanced the culture of their age so rnucl~ above that of the ages which preceded it. Their principal sphere was that of the lecturer, that of com- municating, chiefly through the Latin language in the lecture room the meaning of Latin or Greek classics to their hearers, or disconrsing on eloquence and poetry, or mdral philosophy, or on metaphysics. All these courses of instruction were known before the age of humanism began, except the lecturing on Greek literature; but the humanists seem to have differed lS6ti.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. 91 from their predecessors by the use of a more interesting, ~esthet- ical method, by greater breadth and copiousness of erudition, and by making cultivation of the mind and taste more an end in itself. Outside of the lecture room they engaged in a great variety of literary employments, they acted as the secretaries and com- panions of princes, to some degree they took part in the affairs of state, and as private scholars translated, copied, or imitated the ancient classics, or launched out upon the sea of original composition. Nearly all of their productions were in the Latin language. It is remarkable to how small an extent Ital- ian literature flourished after Boccaccio during several genera- tions. There seems to have been a contempt felt for the mod- ern language, as an instrument of thought not worthy of being used by cultivated minds. In the historical art the leading productions of humanists during the age before us may be soon despatched. The history of Florence was written by Leonardo Bruni and Poggio. The doings of Alfonso, King of Naples, occupied the pens of Bee- cadelli and Bartholomew Facius, and Lorenzo Yalla recorded the achievements of Ferdinand, King of Aragon, father of Alfonso. From the hand of Pier Candido IDecembrio we have a life of Philip Maria Visconti, a brief account of Francis Sforza, andwhat may be mentioned herean oration on the death of the great condottiere, Niccok Piccinini. From G. Simonetta,who may be ranked among the humanists, who was long in the service of the first Sforza, and was exiled by Ludovico IMloro Sforza in 1479,we have an extended work on the doings of Frances Sforza in 30 books. Pier Paolo Yergerio wrote the lives of the Carraras, lords of Padua. Porcelli~ at first poet and scribe of Alfonso, King of Naples, then in the service of the duke of Urbino, was the author of commenta- ries on the deeds of James Piccinini, the condottiere, son of Nicholas. Manetti the Florentine, among his multifarious lite- rary productions composed chronicles of Pistoia, and the life of Pope Nicholas Y., from which we have already made ex- tracts. To these may be added Yespasians lives in Italian, 92 The Revival of Letters in the [Jan., the work of Facius (Fazio) de vine i1lustri~us, and others of less importance.* No high conception of the meaning and office of history, nor philosophical depth of views, nor excellence of style and arrangement, make these histories, written by the hnmanists, so far as we know, of any especial value. The time for that breadth of knowledge and comprehension of the world, which renders the higher efforts of history possible, had not yet come, and the strength of the age was put forth in another direction. If epistolography can be regarded as a department of belles letters, it was one to which the scholars of this period gave particular attention. Stimulated to these efforts originally by the discovery of Ciceros epistles, and ambitious of treading in the steps of the great Roman, forming a class, the members of which knew one another extensively, and had one common sympathy amid all their discords, they gave themselves perhaps with more nnanimity to this task of writing Latin letters than to any other, and endeavored to write with such polish and learn- ing as would advance their reputation in the eyes of their cor- respondents. Many collections of their letters have been printed. Leonard Bruni, Poggio, Barbaro, Filelfo, and Tra- versari deserve foremost mention, but interest in these produc- tions is now confined to the student of the times when they lived and of literary history. Many of them, again, sought for reputation by composing orations or moral essays. The orations, however Ciceronian their authors might try to make them, were almost necessarily of the ornate and declamatory sort. Being delivered on pub- lic occasions, where nothing was at stake, as on anniversary days, on embassies of compliment, at the funerals of distin- guished persons, they had little meaning in themselves, and as far as Latin style went~were not worthy of being long remem- bered. In Latin verse we should not suppose that they would excel who forsook the natural method of pouring out their feelings in their own native tonfrue, who worked as artists after ancient * The greater part of these works can be found in Muratoris Rer. ItaL Script. 1865.] Fourteenth and F?fteenth Centurie8. 93 models, and wrote for reputations sake rather than from a practical impulse. Almost all the humanists cultivated poeti- cal composition in Latin: Filelfo wrote satires and fables; Beccadelli, as we have seen, was a Martial come to life again with his smartness and his impurities. Two papal secretaries, Antonio Losco and Maffeo Yegio, were excelled by few versi- fiers of their time. But the poets of the next age, such as Politian and Pontanus, and those who lived yet a little later, as Bembo, Sannazario, and Palingenio, seemed to have reached a much greater perfection in Latin poetry. In forming an estimate of the scholarship of the humanists down to the age when printing came into use, we must accord to them a familiar and intimate knowledge of the Latin lan- guage and of its remains, a great enthusiasm in the pursuit of ancient literature, and some acquaintance,for the most part, only an imperfect acquaintance,with Greek. . Philologists they were not, nor even very accurate in their Latin composi- tion, although here Laurentius Yalla broke the path. Critics of texts, or of history, of style, they were not able to become except in a rude way. Their acquaintance with the antiqui- ties of the old world, with its institutions, arts, science, was not, and could not be very profound, although Flavius Blon- dus deserves honorable mention for his researches in this de- partment. Nor did they excel as philosophers, although fa- miliarity with the writings of Cicero, and the possession of Aristotle and Plato in the original tongue, gave them an ad- vantage over their predecessors. What then was the positive gain to themselves and to Europe which resulted from the im- mense zeal, the earnest study, the active literary companion- ships, the new style of teaching, and the new authors brought to light in this age? It consisted in the cultivation of the taste by a new or greatly enlar~d acquaintance with works of a refined age, and of highly finished languages, and in establish- ing again that connection with the ancient past which had been almost broken during the middle ages. And this was a very great gain; it was a perpetual possession; one the value of which was not fully known to those who secured it for com- ing times, and which coming times could not estimate accord- 94 The Revival of Letter8 in the [Jan., ing to its due importance, until the old and the new took their rightful place by each others side, blended in modern culture, and duly respected one another. But those who conquered this intellectual province for posterity, did not escape unscathed by their wars; their own characters suffered greatly; their zeal ran into onesided admiration of the old to the depreciation of the modern, and thus bade fair to destroy the freshness, in- dependence, and originality of modern literature. Add to which that the results of humanism on life and opinions were heathenizing and destructive; it presently put itself in opposi- tion to very munch that was most prized, portending ruin to the reigning philosophy, to morals, and to faith. These immediate results of humanism, so far as they were reached in its first age, deserve our special attention. We will consider the character of the humanists themselves. There seems to have been some analogy between the starting up of such a class of men in the Ttalian society of the fifteenth century, and the appearance of the sophists in Greece. Both arrogated to themselves a position high above the former in- structors of their countrymen; both looked down on all other literati in stolid self-conceit; both shone by a brilliancy which flashed from the forms of expression and from new superficial acquirements; both were without earnestness and true dignity of purpose. But in some respects the sophists were a more re- spectable class than the humanists, for they were more original as thinkers, more practical in their aims, and occupied with questions more important to the interests of mankind. Yet the fruits they bore were more deadly, and the part they played was but of the second rank. The first characteristic we may notice in the humanists, is the high estimate they put on themselves and their pursuits, which showed itself~n the forms of arrogance and vanity. They had the elation of mind which is natural to discoverers and possessors of something new; they were lifted np by com paring themselves with the literary and knowing class of the ages before them, whose want of taste, want of brilliancy, and formal dullness did indeed stand out in striking contrast with the new culture and method; they succeeded in winning the 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. (J5 admiration of the leaders of society, whose opinion justified and enhanced their self-esteem; they formed a class strong and compact enough to persuade the world that their pursuits were the noblest, their attainments the greatest. If we admit, as we must, their substantial merits in awakening a better taste, in saving Latin classics from the wrecks of time, in being the first to study Greek, in beginning the accumulation of know- ledge concerning the ancient world, it will not seem strange that they were deceived into rating themselves higher than the truth permitted. Francis Filelfo may serve as a specimen of this fault to which his class wa~ given. He was a poet and an orator, and had a free use of both the classical tongues. See now how he plumes himself on this union of accomplishments: Quod si \Tirgilius superat rue carminis ullis Laudibus, orator jib ego sum inelior. Sin Tulli eboquio pra~stat facundia nostro, \Tersibus ille meis cedit ubique minor. Adde quod et lingua possum hnc pr~estare Pelasga. Et Latia. Talem quem ruihi des alium? The force of nature could no further go. To make Fi- lelfo, she joined Virgil and Cicero, but not content with that, added something of Homer besides. Can anything human surpass this ~ This same man, when he needed money, scrupled not to write begging letters to princes and dynasts on every side, and abused them if they paid no tolls: he seems to have felt that he was only asserting his rights, as if such a race of scholars as that to which he belonged, and he above all others, was entitled to levy contributions on the wealthy as their supe- rior. The age encouraged this self-esteem, and by yielding to their opinions, increased their power. Eugenius IV. is report- ed to have said that one must not only love the learning of the humanists but fear their wrath also, for they were seldom in- jured without taking their revenge. Their high pretensions led them to stand up forgone another, sometimes against the sovereigns, and to rebuke these for their barbarous neglect of letters. When Charles IMlalatesta, lord of Rimini, removed the statue of Virgil from the market place of IMlautna which he 96 f/ike Revival of Letter8 in the [Jan., had captured, Peter Paul Yergerio wrote a sharp invective against his barbarism, and cornpelled the condottiere to put the statue in its place again. Nay, more, the man became ashamed of himself, and learned to make verses, and sought to pass for a person of cultivation.~)* Akin to the self-esteem, the arrogance, and vanity of the hu- manists, was their over valuation of that knowledge which gave them their standing in the world. The pedant who is employed in teaching one branch of learning, and who feels the contrast between himself and his young pupils, becomes in- clined to ostentation, and fancies his attainments far greater and rarer than they really are. And thus we explain the sec- ondary meaning of the word pedant, which at first denoted a schoolmaster. The humanists from the narrowness of their view fell into the same fault, which was excusable when the real superiority of the ancient world in art, literature, the re- finements of life, and freedom of government, is taken into ac- count, but inexcusable if they looked at what Dante and Pc- trarch had already accomplished. A little less of self-esteem, a little more of moral feeling would have cured this defect, and gZiven due balance to their judgments. Owing to this cause they looked down on Italian literature. Petrarch, as we have seen, thought lightly of his poems in the vulgar tongue, on which alone his reputation now rests. Poggio thought well of Dantes poems, but wished they had been written in Latin. Filelfo wrote some Italian poetry, because the Duke of Milan, his patron, admired Petrarch, but descended unwillingly to the language of the populace. I use the Etruscan tongue, he says, when I do not wish what I record to go down to posterity. For the Etruscan tongue is known to scarcely the whole of Italy, bn~Latin is diffused far and wide through all the world. Mr. Yoigt makes the remark that a number of the humanists felt the charm of Petrarchs rhymes and exercised their poetic gift, especially at the beginning of their career, in the native language. But still, adds he, the language of old IRome and the ancient poetry took the foremost place so decidedly, that ~ Voigt, p. 404. 4 186~.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. 97 their contemporaries scarcely thought it worth their while to speak even occasionally of their Tuscan trifling. It was only a playful occupation, in which the years of youth could be indulged and serious men might seek some refreshment, but such poems were no ladder to reputation, they were neither cir~ culated among friends, nor printed after that art came into use. It was not until the end of the century, when the natioiial feeling was most deeply wounded and trodden down by for- eion intruders * that the love to the mother tonoue awoke anew, and taking root in two past periods at once, forced for- ward the classico-romantic bloom of Italian poetry. Hence they were led on to the great mistake that ancient life was to be reproduced, that a better refinement was to be nshered in by imitating ancient manners. Imitators themselves in their literary eflbrt~, it is not strange that they carried their admiration of the old time beyond the productions of its gen- ius. There was to be an exact restoration, as expelled lines of kings think, when they are brought back. This is shown by the childish taste of calling modern things by ancient names. The Pope became a pontifex maximus, the college of Cardi- nals, the sacred Senate, the gonfalonieri and rettori of the towns, consuls and pr~etors. The provinces of the ecclesiasti- cal state take the old name of Sabines, Umbrians, and Picen- tines; the peasant of Campagna belongs to the IMlarsi or the Hernici; Savoy is peopled again with Allobroges, and the coasts of the Genoese Gulf with Ligurians.t And this is only a step towards that heathenish standard of morals and thinking which exhibits the humanists on their worst side. It was ~asy for enthusiastic admirers of antiquity, when their judgments of style and of the productions of genius were measured and shaped by antiquity, when they lived and breathed in Roman literature, to copy also the heathen spirit and fall to the level of heathen morals. They had a kind of moral mannerism, as the admirers of Carlyle imitate most easi * Referring to the French and Spanish wars in Italy, under Charles VIII. and Louis XII. of France. t Voigt, p. 407. VOL. XXIV. 7 98 The Revival of Letterr8 in the [Jan., ly his grotesque and absurd peculiarities. The familiarity with the mythology of the iRomans led them, from the time of Boc- caccio onward, to interweave its gods and goddesses in their poems, even among the saints and angels of Christendom. There is no doubt indeed that the Christian mythology, the pantheon of saints, helped this tendency,the sky could con- tain a few more starsbut a pure moral taste would have re- jected such unnatural mixture, so that we must go back to a moral deficiency as its radical cause. This mingling of heath- en and Christian elements became more rife in the next age, and a fashion was set which has not been without its influence on our own literature. Even such men as Spencer and Milton have not escaped it. The influence of heathenism may be tr ced in the morals and lix es of the humanists. Here we have to tax theum with the heavy faults of frivolity, immorality, and impurity. They had no lofty standard of life, no serious striving after virtue, they sunk far below the earnestness of Petrarch, who, as we have seen, amid his defects of character, admired and longed for, without entirely reaching, a pure Christian life. Heathen- isnii seems to have obliterated sound Christian sentiments, without putting in their place that serious love of truth and use of life, which we see and respect in the old philosophers. They eared little about truth, for their converse was with ex- pression and outward form. They cared little about Christian- ity which was associated in their minds with an inferior refine- ment and with monkish narrowness. Time monks perceived this heathenish levity and uttered their voices against it, but ridicule and the admiration felt by the higher clergy for the nexv learning was defense enough against such attacks, and the humanists gained the day. Such was the prevailing spirit of the age, that their frivolous toying with heathenism, as Mr. Yoigt says, was regarded as an innocent fancy, which could not be seriously rebuked without making ones self ridiculous. Who cared to raise. a cry of alarm, if a lively orator indulged in classical forms of protestation, or ac- cuse him of idolatry, if he said ye Gods, instead of calling on the one God? Or if the poets personified the lust of sinful 1865.] Fourteenth and Nfteenth C~entur~e8. 99 flesh as Amor, or invoked Apollo and the Muses instead of Gods grace, who would tax him with irreligion? Who would draw the philosopher before the inquisition when he spoke of fate and fortune instead of Divine Providence, and put a sen- tence of Cicero by the side of one of Paul? It is true, this smart levity often touched the liuiits where heathenism and Christian doctrine could not be brought together or reconciled, and only poetical licence could serve as an excuse. Filelfo spoke in one of his poems of Pope Nicholas Y. as guarding the throne of Olympian Jove. Filelfos scholar, neas Sil- vms (Pins H.) was already bishop of Siena, when he wrote with unction of a deceased person thus: not with that Jupi- ter whom blind antiquity holds to be supreme, but with Christ and God lie empties the nectar-cup, and drinks of the fruit of the vine in the kingdom of the father. In the same letter he calls God the highest physician in all sicknesses, but adds, and, if we believe Seneca, every one i~ God to himself. This frivolity consisted in such a power of the spirit of heathenism that while there was outward adherence to the Christian faith, all respect for it had gone. But, it may be asked, did scepticism and infidelity grow np out of such ground? Not to any great extent, mnst be the a~iswer, at least in the first age of humanism. The humanists, in beneral, were not earnest enough to inquire and doubt, nor honest and truth-loving enough to encounter the d~ ngers attending an avowal of unbelief. Some of the most frivolous among them were servants of the Pope and members of the clerical order. Marsuppini (Charles of Arezzo) seems to have been a free- thinker, and Laurentius Yalla may have been an infidel at heart, but it was reserved for the next age to produce the much niore respectable forms of positive, sen ous disbelief. The charge of licentiousness of life may be laid against quite a number of the humanists. Of Petrarchis offenses agaiiist morality and of Boccaccios. we have already spoken. The long continued concubinage also of Niccok Niccoli has been mentioned, and the readiness of the high ecclesiastic, Amnbro- gio Traversari, to wink at the irregular life of his friend. Anrispa is found petitioning for the legitimation of his children 100 The Revival of Letter8 in the [Jan., by a mistress. Filelfo, who w s three times married and had a number of lawful children, mentions in his testament two natural ones. Laurentius Yalla, when reproached by Poggio with having debauched the maid of his brother-in-law, con- fesses the charge almost without shame, and had a son by another concubine. Poggio lived in concubinage for many years, and had a number of bastard children, but when at the age of fifty-four he contracted marriage with a Florentine lady of eighteen, the inheritancewe use the words of Shepherd which previously to that event he had secured to these pledges of illicit love by a hull of legitimation, was destined to others, and they were obliged to submit to all the hardships of pov- erty.~ There is no doubt, it Mr. Yoigt may be believed, that the fearful crime, to which the Greeks gave the narqe, and which in romes worst days ourished among other pestilen- ces, betraying its original home by the imported word de- noting it,that this was rife in parts of Italy during the re- vival of letters. The humanists in their controversies charge each other not unfre4uently with this vice, and though the in- vectives of virulent foes may deserve no credit, thus much may be argued, that the vice was regarded as no uncommon one, for such accusations would only he ventured npon in a demor- alized country. While we say these things, in justice to the study of heathen literature it must be added, that this was not the only source of these imrnoralities~ Many of these men had taken the pre- paratory vows of the ecclesiastical state, and could not marry without losing their chance of preferment at some future time. Otbers, again, kept this state in view as a refuge in old age, and so abstained from matrimony. It was then in part the Catholic rule of celibacy, which here, as everywhere, encour aged secret sin, the breach of vows, and the dishonoring of woman, in the effort to reach a spurious sanctity. Another indication of the heathenish spirit of humanism was its occasional disregard of the demands of purity and modesty,its outspoken obscenity. It seemed as if the spirit * Shepherds Poggio, First Edition, p. 301. 1865.1 Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centurie8. 101 of Catullus and Horace in their worst passages, of Martial and the Satirists, had come back into the world. Tn saying this we mean not to deny that there were those, like Vittorino of Feltre, who held the interests of purity to be most sacred, nor to affirm that from familiarity with heathen literature alone this blemish is to be deduced. But we intend that several of the leading humanists ponred out their foul and wanton thoughts upon the world without meeting with deserved re- buke from their own class, and that servile admiration of the iRoman writers must have greatly contributed to the writing and circulation of things the most abhorrent to Christian morality. It is to be observed, also, that this obscenity was not the coarseness of an unrefined age, nor the free speech of uncontaminated minds: on the contrary, it discloses the irn- pure secrets of minds delighting in and thinking to delight others by that which the pure reject with disgust. The exceptionable freedoms of Boccaccio reveal to us, per- haps, a deep corruption of Italian morals in the very infancy of humanism, and the other novelists, as Sacchetti, who fol- lowed his example, and wrote for a public larger than that which the influence of hum anisin controlled, show how tolerant the Italian nation was of licentious tales and obscene jests. But let us cuter within the circle of the humanists, and look at their Latin works, which they wrote for an admiring crowd of literati and for posterity. We follow here Mr. Yoigt with freedom, without however closely copying his words. Of the impure Jlermaphroditus of Beccadelhi (Antonio Panormita), we have already spoken as one of the most finish- ed and vilest books of the times. It was justly attacked by the monks in the pulpit, and burnt publicly, and yet it met with almost undivided applause from the humanists ;even the worthy Guarino praised it. The author of the book him- self describes its enemies either as envious persons, or as be- longing to an ignorant populace, which has no appreciation of the venerable classical models whom he follows. The man of culture ruust know that learned, serious, and holy men have written like things, such as Catullus, Tibullus, Propertius. Juvenal, even Virgil in his earlier years. And Ovid often 102 The Revival of ]ietter8 in the [Jan., utters abominable tbings, only fit for the brothel. Thus the authority of the classics takes the place of that of the church. But the author knows well that men will judge of his morality by his poetry, he therefbre says, on his own behalf, that one can readily be an obscene poet, and yet a pure and chaste man. Nam castum esse dece~ plum poetam Ipsum; versiculos nihil necesse est, Qui turn denique habent salem an leporem, Si sunt molliculi ac parum pudici, Et quod pruriat incitare possint. He forgot that out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, and he did not perceive that these very lines were his condemnation before God and man. Poggios facetiw, as Mr. Yoigt remarks, are a worthy companion to the Hermaphroditus of ]3eccadelli. When he collected and published them he was already in his seventieth year. The old servant of the Papal Curia felt not the least hesitation in regard to interweaving monks, nuns, and even the holy ceremonies of the church into his profane jests. Nor did he take the trouble to justify what he had written by the example of worthy predecessors. The rigorists need not read die book; he had written it to entertain himself and to exer- cise his intellect, with laughter-loving and humane readers in view, for the mind must have refreshment froni its works and cares, and skill in Latin writing must be applied to the hum- bIer forms of composition. It is remarkable that Poggio re- ceived not even the slightest molestation on account of his book from any of the defenders of things sacred. Twenty years before this l3eccadellis work was furiously set upon, and nearly all the copies were destroyed; but the facetice were read in France, Germany, Spain, and Britain, and before the year 1500 they ap eared twenty six times in print, and in three Italian translations. Did the opposition of the monks give out so soon, and in the freemiuded age of Nicholas Y. disap- pear so entirely, or did Poggio s poisonous wit inspire even these foes 4th fear? Other similar works either remained -unprinted or failed to 1865.1 Fourteenth and IVfteenth Centurre8. 103 attain to an equal celebrity. Porcello de Pandoni is re- ferred to as Il3eccadellis rival, and the essence of impurity seemed to attach itself to the person as well as the name of the poet.~* Nor was Fileifo backward to contribute to this kind of literature. His work de jocis et seriis, a collection of epigrams in ten books of a thousand verses apiece, which has never been edited, is declared by his biographer, iRosmini, to contain horrible obscenities and expressions taken from the streets and the brothels. In his con~vivia illediolanensia, the banquet is seasoned with a similar kind of spice, and his satires often reach the shamelessness of his Roman models. Even a grave and solemn man like Leonardo Bruni yielded to the suggestions of Niccol5 Niccoli, and composed a most exceptionable discourse on the different sorts of voluptuous indulgence. And to give but one instance more, iEneas Sylvius, in his youthful poems, imitated and almost equaled the frivolity of Poggio. His letters on erotic subjects, which are now frivolous defenses of love, that is of lust, noxv half serious exhortations to chastity, his slippery novel, Euryalus and Lucretia, his jests and historiettes, were no less widely dif- fused in Germany than Poggios facetie were in Italy, and appeared the more attracting after their author had condemned his youthful sins from the papal chair. We must impute one more serious fault to the humanists , the inordinate love of reputationwhich led to numberless jealousies, quarrels, and invectives. In our remarks on Petrareh and on this characteristic of his life we have represented time love of literary fame as having been fostered by the revived study of the classics. A spirit new in degree if not kind, which overlooked, the higher mno- tives urged by medieval Christianity, and drew its inspiration from heathen ex~ mples and precepts, now took possession of Porcello or Porceillo was born in Naples, suffered imprisonment at Rome in 1434, on the charb e of disiurbing the papal government, was secretary of Alfonso, King of Naples, and by him sent to the camp of the Venetians about 1452, to write the achievements of Jacopo Piccinino, which task he fulfilled. He was afterwards employed by Frederic, Dnke of Urbino, and Sigismund Mala- testa, lord of Rirnini. 104 The Revival of Letters in the [Jan., the minds of men of letters. This spirit was worldly, as look- ing no higher than the opinions of men; it was selfish, as seeking an end in which self was the center; it lacked earn- estness, as striving not for truth and knowledge but for honor; it was dishonest, as making opinion and not reality the measure of its judgments. It made the humorists rivals of one another, encouraged envy, exaggerated a feeling of personal importance, excited quarrels and led to violent de- nunciations. It seems to us as if the example of the human- ists gave to literary men a false direction, as if the angry and foul-mouthed Latin of the controversies in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries justified itself, and derived its respon- sibility from their permitted sins against good temper and good manners. Petrarch, the father of humanism, was the author of the first modern invective. During the illness of Pope Clement V. he sent a lettter to the Pope, in which he warned him against the physicians, as being ignorant impostors. One of the Popes physicians expressed his opinion that Petrarch should not meddle with what he did not under- stand, and advised him to stick to the work of composing fic- tions. This brought out the poets four books of invectives against a certain physician, in which he defended poetry, and attacked the medical practice with such biting jests, that he flattered himself he had cut his foe to pieces for all eternity. And his irritated feelings against the medical profession con- tinued from this time, when he was comparatively young, through his whole life. But the literary wars of the later humanists, when they had become a numerous and definitely marked body of men, were for the most part waged against one another. To several of these quarrels we have already alluded; if we should speak of them all at length it would involve the writing of numerous lives. First we notice Leonardo Bruni, at swords points with Niccoli on grounds most disgraceful to the latter, and publish- ing an invective against him, entitled Neb~tlo Jilialeficus. The same Niccoli seems to have given way to his jealousy and indulged his biting tongue especially against the foreign- 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth centuries. 105 ers who had been invited to Florence, for whom he thus made it an uncomfortable place. Poggio again was a most rabid and unwearied brawler. Filelfo, Guarino, Yalla, the order of Minorites, the bishop of Feltre, and many others experienced his malignity. Guarino was treated vilainously by him be- cause he had opposed an opinion of Poggios that Scipio Afri- canus was to be put before Julius C~esar. In his work on hypocrites he assigns to that class a number of the worthiest ecciesiastics of his time among the rest, Ambrogio Traversari .~ George of Trebisond and he had a falling out, in consequence of the claim of George to have had the principal hand in Poggios translations of the Anabasis and of Diodorus Siculus. On one occasion, when George had found fault with Pog- gio and he had given him the lie, the other slapped him on the cheek, and the two fell to blows with such fury that their colleagues could hardly separate them. Filelfos difficulties with almost all the humanists at Flor- ence and with Cosimo their protector, we have already spoken of. We may ascribe the origin of this great quarrel in part to the immense arrogance and assumption of the man. It grew up probably before he took sides in politics against the Medici, and before the assassin had sought his life. He now burst out into the most violent rage, especially after Poggio, from amid his friends at Florence, pursued the exiled scholar with the most foul-mouthed abuse. Specimens may be found in Shepherds Poggio both of his nasty and lying prose, and of Filelfos more lofty and somewhat truer poetical satire. Filelfo seems to have regarded his satires as one of the sure foundations of his literary renown. He knew how to abuse and to flatter. His satires he sent to his former pupil, Pius II., representing himself as a veteran in honorable war. A little later he seems to have been imprisoned for abusing this same Pius II., who probably had not awarded him according to his own measure of his merits. Loreuzo Yalla was almost as jealous and as bitter as Poggio. During his residence at Naples he was at variance with Fazio * So Tirabosciri, vi. 3, 31. 100 .7i7te J?evivcd of Letters in the [Jan., and Beccadelli, the former of whom having criticized some passages in Yallas life of Ferdinand, father of king Alfonso, was replied to in a fierce and personal invective, which attacked Beccadelli also. Another invective, in print among Vallas works, like the former, was directed against Antonio da IRo, a iMlinorite and professor of rhetoric, who had found fault with something in Yallas elegantia?, without however men- tioning his name. At liome, whither he went at the invita- tion of Nicholas Y., he occupied the professorial chair, as he himself asserts, to defend Quintilian against George of Trebi- sond, who was undervaluing him. In a few years the violent quarrel broke out between Poggio and Yalla, arising from a severe criticism on certain of Poggios letters which he im- puted to Yalla. In this dispute iNicholas Perotti, also, as one of Yallas friends, was involved. The angry minds of the two scholars are manifested in the invectives of Poggio,five in all, of which, however, one is lost,aud in Yallas antidotes and dialogues against his foe. These are, perhaps, says the mild Tiraboschi, the iuost infamous libels that have ever seen the light. There is no calumny or reproach that the one does not vomit against the other; no obscenity or ribald con- duct that they do not tax each other with; yet, worthy of blame as both are, Yalla is less so than Poggio, because, if it be true, that the criticism against the letters was not his, he took up his pen in self-defense. What seems strange to me is that Yalla feared not to direct his antidotes to Nicholas Y., and we do not find him endeavoring to extinguish so great a flame. Who would believe that Francis Filelfo, a man otherwise so proud and fierce in combatting his own enemies, could feel shocked at this literary war and could exert himself to bring it to an end? Yet such was the c se Another pi-oof of Yallas resentful and proud character, adds Tir bosclii, is given by Paul Cortese, (de Cardinal, 2. 8S), who relates that Yalla, having had some request denied by I know not what Pope, and being indignant at the cardinals, perhaps because he imputed the repulse to them, published against each of them many pungent distichs, charging them with grievous vices. 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. 107 After what we have lately said of George of Trebisond, taken in connexion with his violent attack on Plato and the Platonists before alluded to, it will be readily believed that the Greeks incorporated into the Italian republic of letters were not milder or more self-governed than their western brethren. It may be inferred from all this not only that the humanists, on account of their personal pretensions, were incapable of true friendship, bnt also that the age looked at the ebullitions of their rage and hate, when once put into Latin, with something of a feeling of respect, and with little shock to the moral sen- sibilities. These were tilts of beaux esprits, and if a lance was plunged too far into a vital part, the man did not die in public estimation. We add that these same persons who abused at such a rate were not ashamed to flatter. Instances of that continually occur; Filelfo, for instance, as we have seen, wrote dunning letters of this kind, when he was in want of money. It will seem strange that mcii with such characteristics, with so little earnestness, dignity, and love of truth, with so much frivolity, self-importance, pretense, and quarrelsomeness,that a race, whose standard of life and of purpose was far below that of the more grave and serious heathens, should take the lead in society and introduce a new era in modern Europe. But we must remember that, while they did a great work, it was chiefly in the way of destruction, and that for the work of destruction small powers, low purposes are adequate. It is easy, says Pindar, even for the feebler soit of men to shake a state, but to set it up in its place again proves hard indeed, unless God of a sudden become a pilot to its rulers. Alas, that we have found the first of these sentiments alrcdy so true in our United States, and are forboding the truth of the other! But was it not found so also in the last century! Were not the destroyers then superficial men, and how slowly has the building they pulled down in Fiance risen again out of the ruins! The destroyers of the reformation period were these humanists, the constructors were the reformers, who worked hard and left the work incomplete. 108 f/ike Revival of Letters in the [Jan., Let us consider very briefly, before we close this Article, some of the ways in which the destructive tendency of hnmanism was manifested. No direct blows, as we have seen already, were aimed at religion, nor did the humanists desire its down- fall, although many of them may have regarded it with entire indifference. There remain then, as the objects of its at- tacks and its contempt, those sciences which formed the great mass of medieval study, and with which the chnrch sys- tem was intimately associated; and especially the monastic form of life which had always shown itself the chief bulwark of the church. The spirit of ancient literature could not fail to bring those who were imbued with it into antagonisni both with the monks and with medieval science. And while the greater part even of the clergy swani with the current of hu- manism, and saw in it nothing to fear, the monks at an early day instinctively regarded it as a latent foe; by their hostility they increased the opposition between them and their enemies; and as the latter gathered almost all the culture of society into their ranks, the contrast between monastic ignorance and the new refinement became continually more and more ap- parent. The dislike which these students of antiquity felt towards the representatives of medieval science was one in which dullness, heavy learning, narrowness of view, endless subdivi- sions, the discipline which makes a plodder, stood on the one side, against geniality, frivolity, love of beauty iu form rather than of truth, quickness of perception, and readiness of communication on the other. It was sharpened by envy arising from the difficulty which the humanists found of succeeding in some universities like Bologna, where the law professors received large salaries and almost controlled instruction. The triumph of the new learning seems to u~, as we look back, inevitable, for the Roman law was overloaded with glosses and commentaries of most oppressive length and dnllness, with- out clearness or beauty of method, and the school theology was so formal, so endless in its subdivisions, so full of barbarous jargon, as to be extremely revolting and even disgusting. The world could not have endured these dreadful weights and fet 1865.] Fourteenth and Fifteenth (Jenturie8. 109 ters for ever. Something else would have brought a revolu- tion in thinking, if humanism had not been called to do this work. We have seen how Petrarch began to find fault with the old learning of the schools. It is remarkable how sure he felt of ultimate victory. In a pass ge from one of his letters which Mr. Yoigt cites, he uses these words: Look at those who pass their whole lives iu logomachies and sophistries, and weary themselves with idle questions; and listeu to my pro- phecy about them all: All their renown will crumble with them, and one grave will contain their names and their bones. A number of the principal humanists had in their youth ~ ursued the study of the law, and turned away from it with dis- gust, but although the whole class disliked or despised tbe science of the day, few assumed a polemic attitude towards either the legists or the theologians. One of these few was Yalla. W.hile he was teaching eloquence at Pavia, a jurist there publicly expressed the opinion thL t Bartolo, the eminent teacher of jurisprudence of the fourteenth century, was to be preferred by far to Cicero, that in fact Cicero was an ignorant gabbler, and that the rhetoricians concerned themselves more with words than with things. This called forth a diatribe from Yalla, in which he calls Bartolo and other leading law professors by the most opprobrious epithets,they were asses, and geese, who spoke not the IRoman but a barbarous tongue. Even the Emperor Justinian comes in for a share of his bile. The modern jurists, he says, are uncultivated in all branches of knowledge, and, above all, in the art of speaking with elegance. The destiny of civil law is to be deplored because it is so desti- tute of interpreters, or rather because those interpreters, whom it now has, cannot be shaken off. But the dislike of the humanists was much more freely and commonly expressed towards the monks than towards the men of science. Nor did either the spirit of the age or that within the church put restraint upon them. Traversari himself, the general of a religious order, was in habits of daily coinmuni- cation with those who poured their abuse upon men of the same manner of life with Imis own; and the age was ready to 110 The Revival of ]ietler8. [Jan., think ill of a class of men who were at once intriguing, violent, and pretenders to a superior sanctity. Boccaccio and the other novelists delight to represent them in situations where they are false to their principles, and especially to their vows of chastity. Poggio, who had long observed them while a servant of the Papal court, paints them in his facetice at once in the most ridiculous situations and in dark colors; his dia- logue against hypocrisy, written under Nicholas V., was an in- vective against them. The most zealous of the monks in Italy at this time were the Observantists, a stricter offshoot of the Franciscan order. Against these, more particularly, was the ire of Pogglo aroused, for they controlled and disturbed the court of Eugenius 117W. The great preacher of the time,. Bernardino of Siena, belonged to this reform. Filelfo, havin~ heard him in Milan, made a most calumnious attack on him as defiled with hypocrisy and lust, and intimates that the whole race of monks was like him. The satire, which points at him without callino him by name, Filelfo had the impudence to hand with his other satires to Nicholas V., who had canon- ized Il3ernardino,a proof that he thought the Pope not likely to judge very ill of a humanist, even if lie reviled the most active sons of the chnrch. The opinions of the humanists could not fail to circulate through society, as it came nuder the influence of their spirit, and admired their culture. But their spirit pervaded the church also to a great degree, and was a source of that indiffer- ence to religion, of which~ united with refinement and luxury, ~re shall see signal examples in the next age. A Bembo and a Leo X. will show us the rotten carcass of irreligion covered with a glitteriD g robe of heathen elegance. 1865.1 The true Basis of Reconstruction. Ill ARTICLE IThTHE LAW OF CONQUEST THE TRUE BASIS OP RECONSTRUCTION. IT is fortunate that the political victory achieved in the re- election of President Lincoln is generally received, not with noisy exultation, but with calm and thoughtful thankfulness. It gives ground for hope that in rejoicing over triumphs gained and dangers escaped, the nation will not be blind to the severer trial yet to be met, and the fearful responsibilities that will at- tend it. At the beginning of the war the nature of the struggle was almost universally misapprehended. We proposed to our- selves to put down cert2in insurgentsa mere feat of arms. We did not foresee a searching test, not merely of our military capacity, but of the inventive genius, the constructive skill, and the administrative energy without which the fighting faculty of a great nation can never be developed and displayed. Boasting of our productive power and increasing wealth, we lit- tle expected a strain upon our resources that should tax them to the utmost. Exulting in a strength to which no burden had yet seemed heavy, and in a spirit to which no disappoint- ment had yet applied a test, we did not expect a prolonged trial of our pluck, in defeat as well as in victory, or an early and pressing need of the K2Jfens w~ua in arduis. Nor was it our gravest error that we underrated the magnitude of the military task before us. It had been easy to ventilate patriotic fervor in Independence-day orations, but not many of us ex- pected a sweeping blast of temptation and trial that would search out every hollow stick in the forest, and shake to the very roots the sturdy loyalty of the staunchesta trial that would closely gauge our own appreciation of the boasted blessings and privileges of free government by our willingness to sacrifice for its maintenance wealth and comfort, party ties and inborn prejudices, and even the lives of our bravest and dearest. We had pointed to our free schools and general edu

1865.1 The true Basis of Reconstruction. Ill ARTICLE IThTHE LAW OF CONQUEST THE TRUE BASIS OP RECONSTRUCTION. IT is fortunate that the political victory achieved in the re- election of President Lincoln is generally received, not with noisy exultation, but with calm and thoughtful thankfulness. It gives ground for hope that in rejoicing over triumphs gained and dangers escaped, the nation will not be blind to the severer trial yet to be met, and the fearful responsibilities that will at- tend it. At the beginning of the war the nature of the struggle was almost universally misapprehended. We proposed to our- selves to put down cert2in insurgentsa mere feat of arms. We did not foresee a searching test, not merely of our military capacity, but of the inventive genius, the constructive skill, and the administrative energy without which the fighting faculty of a great nation can never be developed and displayed. Boasting of our productive power and increasing wealth, we lit- tle expected a strain upon our resources that should tax them to the utmost. Exulting in a strength to which no burden had yet seemed heavy, and in a spirit to which no disappoint- ment had yet applied a test, we did not expect a prolonged trial of our pluck, in defeat as well as in victory, or an early and pressing need of the K2Jfens w~ua in arduis. Nor was it our gravest error that we underrated the magnitude of the military task before us. It had been easy to ventilate patriotic fervor in Independence-day orations, but not many of us ex- pected a sweeping blast of temptation and trial that would search out every hollow stick in the forest, and shake to the very roots the sturdy loyalty of the staunchesta trial that would closely gauge our own appreciation of the boasted blessings and privileges of free government by our willingness to sacrifice for its maintenance wealth and comfort, party ties and inborn prejudices, and even the lives of our bravest and dearest. We had pointed to our free schools and general edu 112 The Law of Uonque8t EJan., cation, as at once the proudest result and the surest safeguard of a free government, and it was yet to be seen whether they had produced a people intelligent enough to choose unerringly the truth in spite of all the clamor and perversion of an ex- citing contest, and deliberately to sacrifice the cherished treas- ures and fairest hopes of the present for the grander rewards of the future. Perhaps it was well that our foresight was so limited. Perhaps, had we then appreciated the full scope of the work before us, we should have shrunk from the Herculean task, and accepted a solution of the difficulty which would have made the glorious nationality of the future forever impossible. But slowly, as the contest continued, we have awakened to a realization that this is indeed a decisive trial of the manhood, virtue, and nationality that eighty years of self-government have developed. It is a test of all that makes a people great, a government stable, and a nation powerful and prosperous. To the wager of battle there was added a test of the endurance, intelligence, and patriotism of the people, and there yet re- mains a trial of statesmanship more pregnant than either with incalculable results. The crisis of the trial of arms was safely passed in July, 1863. Till then we had been organizing and learning to fight. Nor had our earlier efforts been unattended by most shameful failuresfailures in battle, failures in generalship, and fail- ures in administrative talent and energy, by which a vast supe- riority of force was neutralized. But the opening of the Mis- sissippi river and the victory at Gettysburg gave proof that our days of pupilage in the art of war were over, and that at last we could develop and direct our forces. The rebellion as a military power culminated in the great invasion by Lee; at Gettysburg the mounting wave reached its highest point; and with the calm review that followed the tremendous achievements of that period there caine to every thinking man, North and South, the conviction that in so far as the contest should be one of arms alone, the North was sure of ultimate success. From that day the apprehensions of the wisest loyalists and the hopes of the shrewdest rebels were alike turned to the political contests at the North, as affording to 1865.] [like true Ba8is of Recon8tructwn. 113 the rebellion a second chance of the victory which it could no longer hope to attain by triumphs in battle. The trial by ballot reached its crisis in the presidential elec- tion. In that most exciting canvass, conducted with the utniost license of speech and of the press even in the face of a great civil war, all the influences which could pervert the judgment, sap the loyalty, or shake the purpose of the people, culminated in a final appeal against the war and the administration. Ig- norance of our system of government, of the duties of citizens and the rights of States; gross misrepresentations of fact as to the events and results of the struggle; attachment to a General who had been the popular favorite in the days of our military babyhood; the conservative dry-rot, hostility to all reform, and especially hatred of the negro and the abolitionist prices, taxes, and pecuniary burdens already more grievous to sordid souls than any national dishonor or calamity; dread of the phantom of usurpation and of the prospect of another draft; influence of foreign agents, of rebel sym- pathizers, and of secret organizations, whose machinery was north but whose motive power was south of the border; the magic spell of a party name, and the yet mightiGr power of a church and a foreign-born clan; all threatened to bring about the abandonment of a struggle, the sufferings and sacri- fices of which had been brought home to every household by the new-made graves in all our churchyards, and the little mounds of earth on a thousand fields of conflict. It would not have been strange if a few thousand votes had changed the re- sult. But though, as at Gettysburg, the victory was won only when almost the last brigade of reserve had been called to the front of the battle, it was complete and overwhelming; and the nation was saved in the trial of patriotism on the sth of November, 1804, as decisively as on the 4th of July, 1863, it was assured of final victory in the trial of arms. There remains the third and most serious test of allthe trial of wisdom and statesmanship. This is not merely a rebellion or a political contest with which we have to deal; it is a revo- lution. Our task is to obey and execute a fiat of the Almighty, written on the face of the Western hemisphere in the course VOL. xxiv. 8 114 The law of Con que8t [Jan., of the Mississippi river: There shall be, upon this broad do- main, one nation and bnt one. The shock of arms revealed the fact that we had never been one people, and that a true national- ity, embracing all States and sections, had never existed. Hete- rogeneous popnlations, hostile systems, and irreconcilable ideas had only been placed in contact, and held to bare juxta-posi- tion by a constitutional compact. No chemical union had ever taken place; for that the white-hot crucible of civil war was found necessary. To keep up the fire until antagonistic elements are refined away and a perfect union is effected is needful, and is the deliberate purpose of the nation, expressed in the late election; but that is not all. To direct the process of amalgamation, to determine the time for each step, and to give shape to the new substance, will demand the most exalted statesmanship. A single error may cause a flaw that shall send the whole work back to the furnace. A thousand years scarce serve to form a State, An hour may lay it in the dust. To guide the resistless forces, and to shun dangers on either handas well the Scylla of a too timid conservatism as the Charybdis of an all-destroying radicalismto settle the thous- and questions and meet the thousand difficulties that will arise, will assuredly call for a higher wisdom, a wider knowledge, a profounder foresight than has yet been needed. If we were un- used to war, and had to create an army and master the art; if we had hitherto found no need of self-sacrificing patriotism in the halcyon days when love of country was an undeveloped and untested force, so it may almost be said that no statesman- ship yet made manifest among ns is equal to the needs of the swiftly advancing emergency. All the maxims of the past are obsolete. The teachings of the great minds of other days will be, in this trial, of as little nse as the old Constitution frigate with her carronades in a battle of iron-dads. The machinery and framework of government may not improbably be found all too slender and weak for the mighty forces now evolved. A statesmanship will be needed that can steer by the compass instead of the lead-line, and can push boldly out of the nar- row range of precedents and established forms into the deep 1865.] [[he true Basis of Reconstruction. 115 water of fIrst principles and permanent truths. lit is work for a discoverer rather than for a pilot. Nor is the difficulty of the task more conspicnons than its paramount importance. Military defeats might delay or po- litical surrender postpone the establishment of a permanent n ationality, but nothing can make the Mississippi river run from east to west; no conservative mop can keep back the swelling tide of progress and civilization; and though years of strife might desolate the land and whole generations be swept away by the besom of anarchy, the struggle could never end except in the triumph of Justice and Truth. But whether the future nationality shall be equal to the glorious possibilities of free government, whether the harmony of forces and homo- geneity of elements shall be complete, will depend npon the measure of statesmanship that may guide the work now close at hand. Already a great constitutional reform is demanded; and we are but dull scholars if we have not learned through all the severe experiences of this war, that no work of human device is perfect, and that nations, like children, will outgrow their clothes. Already the financial problem calls for some- thing more than temporary expedients. Already questions of a standing army, of a permanent revenue, and of tariff or di- rect taxation, require re~3xamination by the light of new events and needs. Already the problem of the future of the negro race assumes the gravest importance, and can be defer- red but a little longer. Questions of amnesty or punishment of public enemies already engage the attention of rulers and people. Behind these there throng in the anteroom whole troops of problems new and strangeof interests needing pro- tection and claims clamoring for adjustment. The offing is full of questions, fast anchored once, but now cast adrift by the storm. The change to which we are called is radical. It is the new-birth of the nation. In such a crisis it may be well to reniember that the nation that governs itself has to pay for its blunders, and that it will not do to play at politics. There was never a time when the entire absence of party spirit and blind devotion to names, leaders, aiid organizations, was more imperatively demanded. 11(3 The Law of Conquest [Jan., The nation needs the aid of every thinking and patriotic citi- zen. All measures should be scrutinized, not only by rulers but by people, with extraordinary care. The seeds of another war not less destructive than this may be hidden in the phrase- ology of a law, or the practical bearings of an enactment, which shall seem to us as harmless and as necessary as did the persons held to service and labor clause to the patriots of 178T, or the Missouri Compromise to the statesmen of 1S20. Of all the unsolved problems the most important, and the one that demands most urgently thorough examination and final settlement, is that which concerns the present 8t at us of the rebellions States and the proper mode of reconstruction. It is too momentous a subject to be left to chance. Future generations will consider with amazement that, instead of first ascertaining the true theory, and guiding by that the decisions that shall serve as precedents for the future, we permit local, temporary, and often personal considerations to determine the decisions. Thus blind and often conflicting precedents are es- tablished; and the theory is left to some era of leisure when the political geologist, by patient delving and much study of the fossil remains, may perhaps pick it out of the chaotic rec~ ord. The organic law of ten future States ought to be arrived at in some different fashion. But this blindness of action, and the prevalence of views peculiarly chaotic and vague, are not w{thout excuse. The question is one of no little difficulty; it goes deeper than all our statutes and deeper than the Consti- tution itself, and makes all precedents as useless as the trilo- bites. The very multitude of theories darkens counsel, and rarely, if ever, has the question been stripped of all extra- neous matter and clearly stated. It has nothing to do with slavery or confiscation. It is simply this: Do the civil rights under our government, once vested in certain States and the citizens of those States, still exist, and, if so, in whom are they vested? To discuss particular measures of reconstruction and attempt partial reorganizations, without first giving to this question a final and formal answer, is to put up a frame and fin- ish off a wing before the shape of the building is fixed or the ~oundation laid. 1865.] The true Basl8 of J?econ8tructton. 117 One theory, extracted as best we may from the opinions more commonly expressedopinions which vary in detail as the leaves of the autumnal forest vary in tintmay be thus stated: Those rights are in abeyance. All acts of seces- sion are illegal and void; therefore (a logical non cequitur as may presently appear) the several States still exist as members of the Union. Traitors have forfeited all political privileges, but the loyal men of the South have lost no right whatever. De- prived of all exercise of their poxvers by the armed force of the rebellion, they are nevertheless the State, and have full right, as soon as that obstacle is removed, to reorganize under the old constitution and laws, and to resume the place and power of the State as a member of the Union. Views not materially differing from these have directed most of the steps thus far taken with reference to reorganization, and not only many precedents but high authorities give them sanction. And yet few will deny that this theory is open to certain legal objections, and leads to many practical difficulties. Without attempting to decide a question upon which the ablest minds of the nation have been and will yet be exercised, these objections may be reviewed, and an opposite theory stated. It may first be noticed that the assumption that the States in question still exist as members of the Union, whether sound or not, is at best without logical foundation. Though the act of secession is illegal, it is nevertheless so far operative as to constitute a crime nuder our laws, and to involve forfeit- ure of political rights by those who share in it. And so the act of the State, as a corporate body, is indeed powerless to abrogate the supremacy of the Constitution; but it does not logically follow that the act of the State has not power to work the forfeiture of all its corporate rights as a State. The nullity of secession ordinances does not prove that the State exists; it only proves that the Constitution is still of right supreme, over that as over every other part of the land. As to the fact, it will be objected that a State is an organiza- tion of the people, for local self-government and representation; and that the rebel governments, though illegal and mere nulli- ties, are absolutely the only organizations of the people that 118 The Law of Con~uest [Jan., now exist within the hostile territory. Nor can a State exist in contemplation of law without loyal citizens, known to our laws, to constitute and support it. Government can have no legal knowledge that there are loyal citizens in a State where the people, in their corporate capacity and by every mode and form of civil action, have deliberately put themselves in hos- tility to the Union. What organization of the people exists that can be called The State of South Carolina ? Without an official, without a pretence of power at home, without a voice in Congress, and, so far as government knows, without a single loyal constituent, is it not a phantom rather than a State? Of the practical difficulties of this theory we have already had proofs. Granting that there are loyal citizens within the rebel lines, on the face of the record they are a minority every- where. Can we safely concede recognition, as a right, to a State government which has to support it only a loyal few, sur- rounded by the disloyal many? Military power could perhaps uphold it, but it is a fair question whether the Union can afford to rest upon pillars that cannot stand alone, and whether States that have to be propped up by bayonets are fit members of the federal family. If the loyal minority retain rights as the State, what anthority has the federal government to refuse recognition or representation to any minority, however insig- nificant, if only due forms are observed in organization or election? If a thousand loyalists, being a minority, are the State, by xvhat enactment or constitutional provision do they cease to be the State dwindling to one hnndred, to ten, or to one? In a legal point of view this theory rests upon the idea that traitors have lost their political rights and that loyal men have not. But under the civil law the traitor, no matter how noto- rious his offense, is deprived of nothing except npon trial and conviction; in the presumption of law he is innocent until his / guilt is judicially established; and he therefore retains every right that loyal citizens possess. Not a traitor in South Carolina, for example, has yet been tried and convicted; in the contemplation of the law all her people stand upon 1865.] The true Bct8i8 of Reconstruct ion. 119 an equal footing; and if there is anywhere in that State the right to reorganize its government and resume the powers of a State, that right pertains to every traitor in arms as well as to every loyalist in confinement. So of the right to be represented in Congress; if it exists at all within the limits of the rebellious States, it belongs to the traitor as much as to the loyal citizen, for before all our laws they as yet are equal, and the right of suffrage is determined by the laws of the State. But the law, instead of conceding civil rights and political privileges to all, would seem to deny them to any. The Su- preme Court has unanimously decided (2 Black, 635637), that there exists in this country no longer merely a rebellion or insur- rection, to be suppressed under the operation of the civil laws alone, but a civil war, to be prosecuted according to the laws of war, and that under those laws all inhabitants of the hostile district have become public enemies. As to the existence and legal effect of a civil war the Court were unanimous, for a minority dissented only as to the act from which the state of war takes legal existence, the Court holding that it dates from the proclamations of blockade, and the minority dating it from the passage of the non-intercourse act by Congress. In this decision, speaking of the insurgents, the Court say: Hence in organizing this rebellion they have acted as States claiming to be sovereign over all persons and property within their re- spective limits. * * * It is no loose unorganized insur- rection, having no defined boundary or possession. It has a boundary marked by lines of bayonets, and which can be crossed only by forcesouth of that line is enemys territory, because it is claimed and held in possession by an organ- ized hostile and belligerent power. All persons residing with- in this territory, whose property may be used to increase the revenues of the hostile power, are in this contest liable to be treated as enemies, though not foreigners. They have cast off their allegiance and made war on their government, and are none the less enemies because they are traitors. And ~lse- where, in the same case, it is said: The laws of war, whether it be civil or inter qentes, convert every citizen of a hostile State into a public enemy. Is not the conclusion swift- 120 like Law of conquest [Jan., footed and irresistible that there are within this hostile ter- ritory no citizens who retain political rights or privileges, and no States? Can public enemies retain the right to be repre- sented in Congress? Can public enemies retain the right of local self-government upon part of our territorial domain? Can public enemies still constitute a State which shall be a member of the Union? If not, we must hold that when the insurrection became a civil war, it put an end to all civil rights under our government that previously vested in the inhabitants of the hostile territory, and the question is decided by the court of last resort. This decision is no legal novelty, and is but the necessary consequence of the well settled and long recognized principle that the laws of any nation cease to have validity over such part of its territory as may be held by a hostile force, and that such territory ceases for the time to be de facto a part of its territorial domain. (See 4 Wheaton, 246). In the Farna case, (5 IRobinson, 106), and in the case of the United States vs. Perchiman, (7 Pet. 86), the principle is clearly stated that the inhabitants of a country held by a hostile and belligerent power change their allegiance, and their relation to their former sovereign is dissolved. The country ceases for a time to be de facto a part of the United States, its inhabitants have no longer any right of protection from our government or any right of citizenship under it, and hecome de facto foreigners. Against theni the government possesses full belligerent rights under the laws of war. The opposite theory is reviewed in a very instructive manner in the momentous decision above quoted, (2 Black. 635), as follows: The appellants contend that the term enemyis properly applicable only to those who are subjects or citizens of a for- eign state at war with our own. * * * They insist, more- over, that the President himself in his proclamation admits that great numbers of the persons residing withirf the territo- ries in possession of the insurgent government are loyal in their feelings, and are forced by coA-ipulsion and the violence of the rebellions and revolutionary party and its de facto government to submit to their laws and assist in their scheme 1805.] The true Ba8is of Recon8truction. 121 of revolution; that the acts of the usurping government can- not legally sever the bond of their allegiance; they have, therefore, a corelative right to claim the protection of the government for their persons and property; * * * and finally, that the secession ordinances are nullities, and ineffect- ual to release any citizen from his allegiance to the national government, and consequently that the Constitution and laws of the IJuited States are still operative over persons in all the States for punishment as well as for protection. This argu- ment rests on the assumption of two propositions, each of which is without foundation in the established laws of nations. It assumes that when a civil war exists the party belligerent claiming to be sovereign cannot for some unknown reason exercise the rights of belligerents, although the revolutionary party may. * * * Now it is a proposition never doubted that the belligerent party who claims to be sovereign may exercise both belligerent and sovereign rights. It follows as an inevitable consequence that after subduing the rebel armies the United States will possess the whole territory by right of conquest. Whatever measure of sovereignty vested in the former state government was contributed by the people, acting in their corporate capacity, to swell the pretended sov- ereignty of the Confederate government, and now passes to time conqueror. No innocent minority can claim it. Every man is in the judgment of law a party to the acts of his own gov- ernment, says Kent, and with us the rule has especial force, since the goverI~ing power is held by the people themselves. It involves no other hardship thin is incident to the very being of every legal organization or corporation, in which the rights of the innocent are forfeited by the illegal act of the majority of its members. Every local organization or govern- ment that existed within the hostile territory contributed whatever sovereignty or power it possessed to the work of re- bellion, and to the pretended Confederate government, which is but their creature and organ, and between the power so devel- oped and the United States a civil war now exists; against all the inhabitants of that territory and all their pretended gov- ernments, Confederate or State, the nation has full belligerent 122 The Law of (Jon quest [Jan., rights under the laws of war, and, with their overthrow, the measure of sovereignty held by the people of each rebellious state, and all political power held or exercised by them or any of them, vests absolutely in the United States. In a conquer- ed country the only governing power is that of the conqueror. By the law of conquest the United States does not only re- cover her original powers nuder the Constitution, but she acquires all those which had contributed to form and strength- en the hostile and belligerent power, and every atom of sover- eignty formerly vested in those state, county, or town organiza- tions, which have by the people themselves been arrayed in hostility against her. It is not necessary here to quote from such cases as Cross vs. Harrison, (16 how. 164), or Leitens- dorfer vs. Webb, (20 How. 176), to show that with conquest every power and right of state or local governments is merged in the absolute sovereignty of the conqueror. And thus the simple but inevitable consequence of the forfeiture of all such franchises, by the act of treason, is also the sure result of con- quest, and follows the overthrow of the rebellion as night fol- lows day. To the conqueror belongs the right to establish such territorial governments, to make such divisions, and assign such territorial limits as he may choose. That govern- ment might prefer not to exercise this right in any case is not to the question; if it is not bound to leave local government to state authority, then, in law, there is no such political power remaining. But how can this right of conquest be re- conciled with the idea that the old States still exist, with their old constitutions and boundaries, and that the loyal citizens have the right to organize as a State and to resume political powers whenever they cease to be in duress by reason of the rebellion? it is not surprising that the majority of loyal people hold this theory. They have been pushed into it by the very depth of their horror of treason and secession, and their re- solve to maintain the Union at all hazards. We resist, with every drop of blood in our veins, the assertion that traitors can take a State out of the Union, and, to many minds, the con- clusion is unavoidable that by some legal fiction, and in some 1865.1 The true Basis of Reconstruction. 123 mysterious way, the State is still in being, and a member ot the Union. We welcome with eager joy the first sign of re- turning loyalty, and all our sympathies go forth to meet the suffering unionists of the Sonth, and it is easy to overlook the question whether they can claim, legally or constitutionally, the privileges that we would so gladly accord them. But it is not wise tc let our zeal to crush the rebellion strip the govern- ment of the surest agencies and most potent weapons for the accomplishment of that very purpose. In medjo tutissi- mus. While we avoid the yawning gulf of secession on the one hand, we should not the less look closely, lest on the other we plunge into a Serbonian bog of legal errors and practical mistakes, that will embarrass the task of reorganization, entail Herculean labors upon the next generation, and deface the national record for all time to come. Already a different theory has been stated by one of the most far~seeing statesmen ofthe nation, and it may be well to inquire whether, as a final answer to the question, the courts may not decide that rights and States have alike ceased to exist. But this is secession; it grants just what we are fighting against, that traitors can vote a State out of the Union ! Not so; it is, on the contrary, the strongest ground that can be taken against secession. There is a very common tendency to confound the State, as a geographical division, with the State as a political organization. As a part of our territorial domain the State has neither ceased to exist nor been taken from the Union. Though hostile armies bar the exercise of our rights, the soil is ours, and nothing but defeat can wrest it from us. A million traitors, by a million ordinances, cannot abrogate the sovereignty of the United States as to a single county or square mile of that territory. But the State as a corporate bodythe State as an organization of the people for local self-government, and as a member of the family of Statesis not a physical entity, but a creature of law. It has put itself in arms against the Supreme Law, and from that moment it ceased to have legal existence. The Constitution is a Gorgons head to every mon- ster of treason; of its own force it strikes dead every hostile organization. Under that supreme law no creature of law can 121 The law of Con que8t [Jan., attempt hostility and live. Like a corporation, whose charter expires when the law that gave it being is violated, the member of the Federal Union that takes arms against it makes void its constitution and its laws, casts away all its powers, and for- feits all its rights. The State has committed suicide. But the Union still lives, its rights n imimpaired, and its territorial sov- ereignty undiminished. Is not this the only view that consists with the authoritative adjudication of the Supreme Court in the case above quoted? We need not, under this theory, try to reconcile the possession of belligerent rights with the concession of political privileges. When the rebellion becomes a war, all civil rights of inhabit- ants of the hostile territory expire. We are no longer obliged / to hold that public enemies can vote for members of our Con- gress or constitute a State. We are no longer forced to the strange anomaly of denying to a man protection for person or property from the operation of the laws of war, and yet conce- ding to him the suffrage of full citizenship. And so, when the combat ceases, to protect ourselves against reorganization in the interest of traitors, we are no longer forced to assume for Congress an authority that the Constitution does not give authority to deny to any State, for a time, self-government or representation. We recognize no claims that conflict with the laws of war and the right of conquest. States and civil rights have been swallowed up in the maelstrom of rebellion, and there remains only the untrammeled territorial sovereignty, which treason has in vain sought to destroy, and which conquest has secured and made absolute. Such temporary governments, military or territorial, as the circumstances may require, we may then establish. Under these we may carefully discrimi- nate between leaders, whose deep-dyed guilt demands a con- dign punishmentfollowers, who may be spared the rigors of strict justice, but must yet undergo probation or be disqualified for places of honor and trustand the truly loyal men, to whom may be safely entrusted the privileges of citizenship. When this has been done; when an ascertained body of loyal citizens can establish a genuine government, able to execute the laws, and worthy of a place in the Union of Commommwealths, then 1865.] The true Ba8i~ of Recon8truction 125 - Congress ~nay admit a new State, which shall be a source of power and not a burden and a peril to the IRepublic. Under this theory the anomaly of minority governments is avoided; local self-government can be rightfully denied until there is a healthy majority of sound loyalists to support it; and States propped by bayonets are excluded until they can stand alone. The delay is no hardship to loyal citizens; it is rather for their interest to defer the organization of a permanent gov- ernment until they can have security that traitors will not con- trol it. A government kept alive only by military force is a civil authority only in name, and can confer only the shadow of benefits. Inter ar~ma 8ilent lege8. The thorough elimina- tion of disloyal elements, and exact ascertainment of the loyal residuum, can precede and be made the basis of an equitable apportionment of power to the new State in the Federal Gov- ernment. It would surely be not a little to the credit of the nation to sweep away, by the operation of this theory, all those paltry 8imulctera of elections and organizations which have hitherto started up like mushrooms in the track of our armies. The abeyance theory makes every newly entered district a placer for political speculators to work, and it is notorious that not even the cotton mania has so much retarded our military success as the constant interference of such schemes. Have we not seen enough of these manufactured organizations, which live, movg and have their being in the baggage wagons of our army? They afford excellent chances for political chicane- ry; nice honors and fat offices are recovered from abeyance by men whose surprising merit had not been discovered in times of peace; but is the Union cause materially helped or do the Union loving people of the South thereby obtain any sub- stantial protection? Is it not time to ask if these sickly plants do not cost more than it is worth to rear them, and to look with favor on a theory, which, by removing all pretext for such pre- mature growths, sweeps away the whole system of political jugglery so engendered? Another consideration seems worthy of especial attention. Our law of treason is less effective or severe than that of other civilized nations. To the framers of the Constitution treason 126 The Law of ()on~ue8t [Jan., seemed a crime strangely horrid and improbable, and there doubtless appeared to be greater danger from an over rigorous loyalty, which, in times of excitement, might mistake reasona- ble freedom of thought and speech for hostility to the govern- ment. Yet we have lived to see cabinet ministers, senators, and most trusted officers of the army and navy, participating in as foul a conspiracy as ever defaced the pages of history. We have lived to see them unite with Governors of States, with Legislatures and Conventions, in a treason as base, as subver- sive of all law and of the very existence of our government, and as terrible in its consequences, as has ever broken the peace of any nation. Compared with this conspiracy all other trea- son known to history seems venial. Beside that crime other crimes shrink to peccadilloes. The murder of an individual what is that to the deed of the master-spirits of this rebellion, to whom we owe the burning of ships and towns, the prostra- tion of commerce, the ruin of whole districts and States, the empty sleeves and crutches that meet the eye in all our dear old village hQmes, and the robes of mourning that speak the be- reavement of half a million households? But, were the South to lay down her arms to-day, and resume the rights which the abeyance theory concedes, there is no security that even these leaders would not find absolute immunity from punishment. Even the most notorious traitor could exercise every right of citizenship until he had been tried and convicted by a jury from his own State, and nothing in the laws of that State would ex- clude any other notorious traitor from the jury-box. What pun- ishment would Davis fear from a jury of Mississippians, of whom perhaps half had just laid aside smoking muskets and dripping swords to enter the panel? To place such immunity within the reach of rebels, who may abandon the contest when- ever they find it hopeless, is to put a premium on treason. We are cramped by no legal forms or constitutional obligations, unless we choose, in punishing this rebellion. Rising to the proportions of a civil war, it has placed in the hands of the nation not only the remedial agencies of the courts, but the torch and sword of the conqueror. Rebels are now not rebels only, but public enemies; Gettyburgs slaughter and Shermans 1865.1 The true 11a8i8 of Recon8truction~. 127 march have a broader sweep than any enacted penalties; and the right of conquest cnts deeper than any conceivable measure of confiscation. The law of war becomes supreme, and of that law V~ V~ct~sis the epitome. We have only to apply the principles of the decision above quoted to the work of recon- struction, to make sure that the punishment, for leaders at least, shall be severe enough to prevent for all future time the recur- rence of a crhne so terribly destructive to the national pros- perity and the national honor. The people are willing to par- don; they will be as magnanimous in victory as they have been enduring in trial; but they will not consent to see those whose rebellion has cost the nation all this treasure and blood, this agony and shame, return at once, without penance or proba- tion, to the full enjoyment of privileges and blessings preserved only by loyal sacrifices and sufferings. Schemes of reconstruc- tion which make possible immunity for the great conspirators, or instant return to all political privileges for traitors as well as loyalists, will not be such as the people will approve or the nation can safely adopt. Nor will it answer, in overflowing leniency for past offenses, to neglect security for healthy polit- ical action in the future. Men who have deliberately betrayed trusts guarded by all the sanctity, of an oath are not safely to be trusted as loyal and true citizens, whenever they may choose to renew an obligation once violated. But the state constitutions only can effectually debar any from suffrage, office, or trust; under the abeyance theory each State can demand recognition with her old constitution and laws; nor is it easy to find authority for requiring particular changes as co,nditions of recog- nition. Instead of retaining these old constitutions, redolent of the slave-pen, defiled in every part by the use of traitors, and infested in every joint and crevice by claims that loyal men must loathe but can never wholly extirpate, the erection and admission of new States demolishes all these relics of a shameful past, and secures nexv and spotless constitutions, each in harmony in every part with the spirit of the new era, and instinct and vital with freedom and loyalty. There are many who shrink with horror from the idea that we have to-day fewer States than we had four years ago. This 128 The Law of Conquest [Jan., conception of a State which exists only in a happy fiction of the intellecta mysterious and immortal piece of mechanism, without component parts, visible whole, or local habitation, hanging, like Mahomets coffin, twixt heaven and earth, but always ready to yield a full set of offices whenever men can be found to cast a few ballots on a certain portion of the States surfacehowever ludicrous it may be, still serves its purpose for those who daily cheer themselves with the thought that not a State is lost; not a star is blotted from the flag. But are we any the better for calling that a State which is only a territory, held by hostile or trampled by contending armies? Is it less than cowardly thus to cling closely to the victory that we mean to win as if it were already won? Have we not kept our heads in the sand, after the wisdom of the ostrich, quite long enough? Dreams of States are not States: Recollections or hopes of States are not States. A paper constitution and an imaginary boundary do not constitute a Commonwealth, any more than a map in the office of a western land-shark con- stitutes a city. Beside New York or Massachusetts, such States are but the shadow of a phantom. And yet, under the abeyance theory, these same mythical members of the Union actually bind the great loyal States hand and foot, defeat the will of the people, and prevent the adoption of a greatly need- ed reform, even though it should receive the votes of every loyal and actual commonwealth! Clinging to these shadows we enumerate thirty-six States. If this theory be law, the votes of twenty-seven States are required to prohibit slavery by con- stitutional amendment. The ten States in abeyance, in which we have not even a phantoni legislature, make us help- less. Even if Louisiana, as organized under Gov. Hahn, be recognized as a State; and if, beside the vote of West Vir- ginia, the Pierpont government be held competent to vote for old Virginia, there are yet enough, with a single negative vote froni Delaware or New Jersey, to defeat the desire of those to whom the Union is worth sacrifice and bloodshed, in the inter- est of those who have not only voluntarily deprived themselves of all share and voice in the government, but are now actively waging war against it. Thus, to the very people who are 4 1865.1 The true Basis of Reconstruction. 129 fighting to destroy the government, we concede the political power to prevent any reform, however necessary or however universally desired by those who fight to save it. No clearer illustration could be desired of the effect of a theory which confers upon public enemies civil rights and political privileges. While, if we hold that rebel States have ceased to have legal being, that creatures of law cannot exist in hostility to law, and that a community of public enemies cannot constitute a State within the meaning of the Constitution, more than three-fourths of the States that have actual existence stand ready to adopt the amendment, and the will of the nation can be the law of the land. Nothing in the past action of Congress should embarrass the decision of this question. The admission of West Vir- ginia can be justified at least as logically on the basis of the absolute territorial sovereignty resulting from the demise of Virginia, as by the consent of the Pierpont government, which would itself never have been recognized as a legal entity had it not been deemed necessary to provide local protection for this same district west of the mountains. Nor should pre- cedents, blindly adopted with little thought of their bearing upon the future, pushed through by local, petty, and personal interests, and adopted as temporary ex~edients at a time when the character and magnitude of the rebellion were not under- stood, and when its overthrow within sixty days was predicted by some who hold high place as statesmen, be held binding and final decisions of questions as momentous and far-reaching in their consequences as any that can engage the attention of our rulers. In this view all action thus far taken in the case of Louisiana must be held premature and ill-considered. False in theory, it has been not less pernicious in its consequences. How much the abeyance theory has helped Louisiana thus far, can be learned by a very slight examination of the character of the men brought to the surface of the politi- cal caldron. How much it has advanced military operations, let the IRed River performances answer. What sort of a State~~ has been produced by this hot-house culture, those can judge who know that its authority is bounded by the VOL. XXIV. 9 130 The Law of Comque8t [Jan., range of our cannon, and that the loyal districts are but islets in ~ wide circumambient ocean of disloyalty. The question is already betbre Congress, and it is to be hoped that not only its special merits and demerits, but the whole theory of recon- struction, may now receive thorough consideration. Nor should those in power be left unwatched or unaided. Now, more than ever, when the history of ages hangs upon the record of each passing day, may the wisest leader welcome the thoughts of any that have thoughts to give, and court the freest discussion of the questions upon which he has to act. The navi- gator in unknown waters will not spurn the suggestions of the common seaman whose earlier rovings may have led him thither, nor despise the caution of the youngest cabin boy, whose eyes de- tect through gloom or fog breakers ahead. The general who leads his column through a strange and hostile country, will wel- come the aid of the humblest private who can point out roads and foretell obstructions not found on his imperfect charts, and even from children by the wayside ~will not disdain to gather ideas of the opposing armies and their route. And neither navi- gator, traversing pathless and unexplored seas, nor general, penetrating forest and mountain wilds, has less of precedent or experience to ajd him, than the statesmen whose task it is to guide us through the perils of a revolution for which history has no parallel; to determine questions not even dreamed of by the framers of the constitution; to adjust differences which involve the rights and prosperity and future welfare of millions of people; to deal with hereditary antagonisms, inborn prejudi- ces, and hatreds burnt into the very fibre of the quivering flesh by the red-hot irons of civil strife; to effect the harmonious union of forces which have made earth shake with the tread of their advancing hosts, and whose conflicts have been likened by observers to the battles of ~he Titans and the strange legends of the old mythology; to handle the admixture of races the most diverse of the earths population; and to lay the foundation and rear the framework of the majestic and glorious nation- ality that successful selfgovernment will have made 1)ossible on this continent. With not too much of reverence for the past, 186~.] The true Basis of Revonstruction. 131 and yet with not too boastful a confidence in our own wisdom, let such a task be approached. And let us hope that He who has brought hither this strangely composite people, with its representatives of every nation under the sun, to work out here a great problem for mankind, and who has given strength for the conflict of arms, and sturdy patriotism and unfailing intel- ligence for the trial of political decision, will grant us wisdom and statesmanship for the work that is to come. Qui trans 132 Prof. Benjarn4n Silli7nan, Senior. [Jan., ARTICLE V.PRESIDENT WOOLSEYS ADDRESS COM- MEMORATIVE OF THE LIFE AND SERVICES OF BENJAMIN SILLIMAN, SENIOR, PROFESSOR IN YALE COLLEGE. IT will be but an act of justice to the memory of Professor SILLIMAN, if some oue, who can measure accurately his services to science and to education, and his character as a man and a Christian, shall in due time pay him a carefully prepared tribute, which he so well deserves, and express the gratitude of his country to one who has so long commanded universal re- spect. Such a task I do not propose to myself, but in the ex- pectation that such a task will be undertaken by a more skill- ful hand, working at leisure on materials which cannot be col- lected at once, I design to limit myself to a brief sketch of the life of Professor SILLIMAN, followed by an equally brief esti- mate of his services to science, of his career as an ofll~er in Yale College, and of his general character. The fanmily to which Professor SILLIMAN belonged is thought to have been of Swiss origin, and his ancestors appear among the early inhabitants of the town of Fairfield, soon after the first settlement. His father, Gold Selleck Silliman, a graduate of Yale College of 1752, was a lawyer in Fairfield, and during the revolutionary war a brigadier-general of the state militia. lie stood high in the confidence of Gov. Trumbull, and was entrusted for a time with the protection of the Long Island coast, which his residence at Fairfield enabled him to have in charge. He commanded the troops that were gathered for the defense of Danbury in the summer of 1777, when the British, in far superior force, burnt that depot, and when Gen. Wooster, who went over as a volunteer froimi New haven, met his death. In II 780, a party of British troops landed on the coast and carried off Gen. Silliman as a prisoner. He remain.~ ed in captivity six months, until exchanged with Judge Jones of Long Island, whom an expedition from Connecticut seized

132 Prof. Benjarn4n Silli7nan, Senior. [Jan., ARTICLE V.PRESIDENT WOOLSEYS ADDRESS COM- MEMORATIVE OF THE LIFE AND SERVICES OF BENJAMIN SILLIMAN, SENIOR, PROFESSOR IN YALE COLLEGE. IT will be but an act of justice to the memory of Professor SILLIMAN, if some oue, who can measure accurately his services to science and to education, and his character as a man and a Christian, shall in due time pay him a carefully prepared tribute, which he so well deserves, and express the gratitude of his country to one who has so long commanded universal re- spect. Such a task I do not propose to myself, but in the ex- pectation that such a task will be undertaken by a more skill- ful hand, working at leisure on materials which cannot be col- lected at once, I design to limit myself to a brief sketch of the life of Professor SILLIMAN, followed by an equally brief esti- mate of his services to science, of his career as an ofll~er in Yale College, and of his general character. The fanmily to which Professor SILLIMAN belonged is thought to have been of Swiss origin, and his ancestors appear among the early inhabitants of the town of Fairfield, soon after the first settlement. His father, Gold Selleck Silliman, a graduate of Yale College of 1752, was a lawyer in Fairfield, and during the revolutionary war a brigadier-general of the state militia. lie stood high in the confidence of Gov. Trumbull, and was entrusted for a time with the protection of the Long Island coast, which his residence at Fairfield enabled him to have in charge. He commanded the troops that were gathered for the defense of Danbury in the summer of 1777, when the British, in far superior force, burnt that depot, and when Gen. Wooster, who went over as a volunteer froimi New haven, met his death. In II 780, a party of British troops landed on the coast and carried off Gen. Silliman as a prisoner. He remain.~ ed in captivity six months, until exchanged with Judge Jones of Long Island, whom an expedition from Connecticut seized 1865.1 Prof. Benjamim Silliman, Sen4 or. 133 and brought off by way of retaliation. Gen. Silliman died in 1790. The mother of Professor SILLIMAN, Mary Fish, daughter of Rev. Joseph Fish, who was for fifty years pastor of the second church in Stonington, was the wife first of Rev. John Xoyes, by whom she had two sons, well known as exemplary ministers in this State, and then of Gen. Silliman, by whom she had two sons also,GoId ~Selleck and Benjamin, the former of whom still survives ~t the age of eighty-seven. Benjamin, like his namesake of old, was born away from home. The British forces had invaded the coast at New Haven in July, 1779, and excited that consternation in the towns toward the west, which was soon afterwards followed by the burning of Fairfield and Norwalk. The family fled to New Stratford, now Trumbull, and there it was that on the 8th of August, 1779, our friend first saw the light. At the age of eleven he was left fatherless, and his education de- volved upon his mother, who well fulfilled her task. He was fitted for College at thirteen, and graduated in the same class with his brother, at the early age of seventeen. Three years afterwards he was called to the tutorship, which office he continued to hold for five years. Dr. Dwight came to the College to preside over its interests in 17~5, when Mr. SJLLIMAN was a Junior. It was one of the great blessings of his life, and was by him so regarded, that he fell under the influence of this eminent man, whose shining qualities attracted him, and who took an unusual interest in his welfare. For Dr. Dwight Mr. SILLIMAN retained, until the close of life, a most unbounded respect and attachment, and probably no other man did so much for the cultivation of his mind and heart. Having tested his capacity to teach and govern by several years of trial in the office of Tutor, Dr. Dwight proposed to him, in 1802, to leave the law which lie had been studying, and for the practice of which lie was now ready, and to devote his life to the study of Chemistry and Natural History. But the project of establishing such a chair was not entirely new here, for in September, 1798, the Presi- dent and Fellows voted, that a professorship of Chemistry 134 Prof. Benjamin Silliman, Senior. [Jan., and Natural History be instituted in this College, as soon as the funds shall be sufficiently productive to support it. This appearing to be the case in 1802, the board proceeded to establish the professorship by the following resolution: that it is expedient to elect for a Professor of Chemistry and Natu- ral History, some person of competent talents, giving him such time to give his answer, whether he will accept such appoint- ment or not, as he may desire, and as may be agreed upon be- tween him and the Corporation. The Corporation being led to the choice of a Professor of Chemistry and Natural History in this College, on the posi- tions of the foregoing vote, BENJAMIN SILLIMAN, Esq., was de- clared chosen. Part of the next year was spent by Mr. SILLIMAN in Phila- delphia, as a pupil of Dr. Woodhouse, in preparation for his new office, and funds were appropriated by the Corporation for the purchase of apparatus. The next year, also, was in part spent at the same place in chemical studies, and in part, after his return, in the delivery of a course of lectures. A fuller course occupied the early months of 1805. It was in the spring of this year that he left the country, by consent of the academic authorities, to study the physical sci- ences abroad. He was absent fourteen months. In these months he attended courses of lectures in London and Edin- burgh, traveled in different parts of England, and made an excursion across the channel, which, however, was cut short by the restrictions imposed under Napoleon upon persons visiting the continent from England. Few persons from this land then traveled either in England or on the continent, and fewer still had so good an opportunity to see men and things of interest. Accordingly, when, a year or two after his return, Mr. SILLI- MAN published his journal of travels in England, Holland, and Scotland in 18056, it was received with a warm welcome in all quarters. I well remember what an engaging book it was for inc in my boyhood, and how I became acquainted with and learned to reverence such men as Wilberforce, whom the author introduces to his readers. This work of travels passed through a second edition a number of years afterwards, and in A 1865.1 Prof. Benjcunin Sillimctn, Senior. 135 1820 an account of a journey from hartford to Quebec opened Canada to the reader, which was then almost an unknown land. Professor SILLIMAN returned from England in 1806, and be- gan those instructions in chemistry and mineralogy, which he continued to give ever afterwards, whilst he remained an officer of Yale College. Geology, I believe, was added as a third branch of instruction, somewhat later. The course in chein- istry extended through the fall term and into the winter; in the latter part of the winter term the lectures on mineralogy began; and in the first half of the summer term the geological lectures closed the series. Such annual courses continued in almost unbroken sequence until he visited Europe for the second time in 1851, with the exception that the lectures in chemistry of 182324 were given by another person, on account of the temporary failure of Professor SILLIMAN 5 health. Let us now leave him in this life-work where Providence has placed him, rejoicing in his pursuits and spreading the same pleasure through his audiences, gathering yearly fresh and in- creasing tributes of homage and respect from the public, most happy in his domestic and academic life,let us leave him here in this onward flow of years, and look at him as a man of science, a college officer, a man and a Christian. In attempting to judge of the services which Prof. SILLIMAN has rendered to science, we must remember at how low a point the physical sciences stood in this country at the beginning of his career, and, especially, what slender help this college could give to one who wished to explore the secrets of nature. Chemistry was then in its infancy; the doctrine of heat, light, electricity, and magnetism was equally immature; and geology could scarcely be said to exist at all. No preparation for study in these departments was made except through the study of natural philosophy in imperfect text-books. The college had no collec- tions, scarcely a retort, only minerals enough to fill a candle-box. In this state of things a young man was induced, by the ad- vice of Dr. Dwight, to enter the unknown field, who had been prepared for another calling, and prepared to shine in it by 136 Prof. Be~jamiri~ Silliman, Senior. [Jan., personal advantages such as few possess. After he had com- pleted his tutorship he must qualify himself for a science of which he had not learned the rudiments, and in which there were here, if I am not deceived, ahnost no books and no smatter- ing of knowledge. He also took upon him the duty of leading students over wide fields. Chemistry during his active life ran into almost infinite details, demanding exclusive study to inas- ter them; mineralogy, with its beautiful doctrine of crystalliza- tion, was constantly building itself up; and geology, as it grew into a science, made demands upon all its sisters, upon chem- istry, zoology, botany, and began to write out a history of the earth, stretching back into inconceivably distant ages. In such wide fields, at a time when every year revealed new treasures of nature, and when man was continually forming combinations of elementary bodies, of which nature had pre- pared no pattern, a young professor could not be an explorer, he could scarcely grasp what was thrown into his hands by the developments of science. We do not claim for Mr. SILLIMAN the discovery of any great laws in the kingdom of nature,that, in his circumstances, was almost out of the question. Nor do we claim any more genius and skill in original investigation than many others have possessed. What then are his titles to respect as a man science? They are these: 1. He was almost the pioneer and the father in this country of the three branches in which he gave instruction. The same honor is due to him on this account that is awarded to Pro- fessor Moses Stuart,once his colleague in the college faculty for the impulse which he gave by his enterprise and zeal to biblical studies. And thus to open the way in any science or discipline, useful to man, is a most valid title to the respect and the gratitude of posterity. It is easy to follow in a trod- den path, but the originator of a science and the first inculcator of itthese have a difficult part to play; amid uncertainties and discouragements, with few to cheer them by sympa- thy, sustained by their own inward convictions chiefly, and warmed by their own inward fires, they are not so much the leaders of the ranks in a conquest over nature, as they are single champions, fighting alone, and unaided by the countenance 1865.] Prof. Benjamin Silliman, Senior. 137 and prowess of others, until they have first won for themselves their hardest victories. 2. But this position of a pioneer and a pathbreaker would have told but little on the interests of science, if it had not been seconded by enthusiasm and by the power of presenting the truths of science in their most brilliant colors. Mr. SILLI- MAN was thus an eminent means of diffusing the physical sciences, of giving them their due place in the American sys- teni of education, and of commending them to the regards of the people. As a lecturer he was almost unsurpassed. Without a severe logical method, he threw so much zeal into his discourse, ex- pressed himself, with such an attractive rhetoric, and supported his doctrine by experiments of such almost unfailing beauty and success, that all audiences delighted to hear him; so that for years no lecturer so attractive could address an assembly, whether gathered within the walls of a college or from the people of crowded cities. In his own lecture room the students felt the genial sway of his oratory. No other such instructions were given, uniting at once pleasure and improvement. Hence for many years the study of chemistry was, perhaps, the most popular one in the institution. In the latter years of his pro- fessional life the science of geology seemed to take the largest share of his interest. And, here, the grandeur of the subject matter seemed especially fitted to kindle and exalt his fervor. The mighty agencies that have moulded the earth over and over, as clay is moulded in the hands of the potter, the un- mense ages which almost appal the imagination, this vast framework of the earth the theatre of such sublime displays, and over all, before the eye of faith, the divine architect car- rying the great building forward, until it had become a fit dwelling-place for his immortal creature, man,~these grand objects inspired him, and he threw the inspiration into his audiences, wherever they were gathered. In the years between 1835 and 1840 he gave courses of lec- tures in quite a number of the large towns in the United States, from Boston as far west and south as St. Louis, New Orleans, and Mobile. Tie was also invited to deliver the Low- 138 Prof. Benjamin Silliman, Senior. [Jan., eli lectures about the same time. Treated everywhere with the highest consideration, welcomed by the numerous Sons of Yale dispersed through this broad land, he had almost a triumphal progress, and widely diffused, it is believed, a taste for physi- cal science. 3. But, again, outside of the lecture-room, by his investiga- tions and through the press, his services to science were great. He made, indeed, no signal discoveries iu his departments, but his laboratory was by no means idle. Tn 1807, when the me- teorite fell at Weston, in this State, he, with Professor Kings- ley, went to the spot and gave an account of it, and lie after- wards subjected one of the fragments to an analysis. A few years afterward he made experiments on the fusibility of bodies with the compound blow-pipe of Dr. Hare, his long tried friend. His success in fusing a number of bodies supposed to be infusi- ble before was made known in a memoir read before the Con- necticut Academy. In 1822, he instituted a series of experi- ments with the galvanic battery, and established the fact of a transfer of particles of charcoal from the charcoal point at one pole to the other pole of the battery; and in his various excur- sions he made Geol ogical and Mineralogical observations of interest. Through the press also,Professor SILLIMAN was a most use- ful diffuser and fosterer of the sciences to which he was de- voted. When he began his course there were few books ac- cessible in chemistry or mineralogy in this country. In 1822, he procured, if I am not deceived, the republication of Henrys Chemistry, and in 1829, that of Bakewells Geology, which he enriched by notes of his own. In 1830, appeared his own text-book on Chemistry, in two octavo volumes. But the Journal of Science, which has now continued to be published for forty-six years, and which has not yet lost his name, although he has long had no active part in it, gives the best proof of his enterprise and his love for science. This journal, edited by himself for~ twenty years, and then in conjunction with his son for eight more, with whom Professor Dana was after- wards associated, soon become the leading organ of science in the United States; but it was long and often a question, 1865.] 139 INrof. Bemjct~nim Sillimctn, Senior. whether it could maintain itself and would not involve its editor in pecuniary embarrassments. The zeal and courage of Mr. SILLIMAN, after years of loss, in keeping up this journal, when his own editorial labors were uncompensated and the debts for printing had to be provided for, are worthy of the highest praise. He did persevere until it was secure against failure, and was supported by scientific readers through the country. The reputation and eclat which Mr. SILLIMAN acquired in chemistry and geology were of the highest use to his own college. It is beyond doubt that many came here, because he was here; and he succeeded in inspiring many with a zeal for the one or the other of these departments, who have since re- flected honor upon the college and the country. Among the services which he rendered at once to science and to his alma mater was the acquisition by purchase of the Gibbs Cabinet, then altogether the best collection of minerals in our country. Col. Gibbs, a Rhode Islander of wealth, had been induced by his regard for Mr. SILLIMAN, to deposit his specimens here, and rooms had been provided for them in one of the college build- ings. But the time came when it was necessary that they should be sold, and in order to secure them for Yale College, the friends of the institution had to be appealed to for the sum of $20,000. Mr. SILLIMAN undertook this task with the great- est zeal and assiduity, made most of the solicitations, I believe, himself, and succeeded in his object. The cabinet over which he fondly watched, and which was enlarged by his correspond- ence with other collectors and by donations, will be a memorial for him through all time. But it was not on this occasion only that his voice was lifted up and his influence used for the benefit of Yale College. His personal presence, his great popularity, his fine powers of per- suasion, caused him to be put forward whenever there were wants to be urged, before the legislature or before private friends, whenever strangers of distinction were to be honored, whenever on academic fi~stivals responses were due from the authorities of the institution. There were, I be]ieve, in the universities of the middle ages orators annually appointed, 140 Prof. Benjamin Silliman, Senior. [Jan., who represented their communities on public occasions. He, in his prime, was our stauding orator, the principal medium be- tween those who dwelt in the academic shade and the great public. A very important duty of Professor SILLIMAN grew out of his function as a member of the college faculty. For more than fifty years he sat and voted in that Faculty, aided in dis- cipline as well as instruction, and being the senior professor, had a prominent place in all Facnlty measures. Dr. Dwight, without doubt, would not have selected him for the new pro- fessorship, unless his clear eye had discovered in him the poWer of governing and controlling; and his career as a tutor must have been satisfactory. When he took the professors chair, no especial part of the college discipline fell on him, he had no care of a division, and hence had less direct and intimate contact with the students than most of the other officers exer- cised. It was natural therefore that he shonld think less of rules than those whose business it is to enforce them. But his influence was all exerted in favor of discipline and order: es- pecially, where insubordination and combination to resist law was rife, as happened more than once between thiri~y and forty years ago, he was a tower of strength to the government. His influence, again, as a man upon those students whom he knew or who were committed to his special care, was often exceedingly happy. It is bnt a few months ago that a gentleman of high standing in one of our large cities told me how Professor SIL- LIMAN had saved him from waywardness and disgrace, and how an attachment was thus begun which had never been weaken- ed. Many such ties were established with young persons who are now prominent men in various parts of this land, and who, when they get the news of his death, will feel that a guide and a true friend has passed away. Success so great in whatever he undertook, together with universal respect and admiration, imply a very happily con- stituted personal character. His mind was of the rhetorical, not of the analytical cast. He was a man of practical judg- ments, and not drawn by his native leanings into abstruse speculations; and hence he was better qualified to act directly 1865.] Prof. Benjamin ,Silli7nan Senwr. 141 upon mankind. His perceptions were qnick, his taste good, his tact exquisite. Few men are better fitted to shine in soci- ety than he. To a most commanding person, an engaging countenance, and an admirable carriage, he nuited that ease and affability which are the product of self-respect and kind- ness united. Fond of admiration, yet not led by it into the slightest disposition to depress others below their true level, he at once found his enjoyment in the good will of others, and showed entire good will towards them. He was, among all the men who have lived in tbis city during the present century,as I think will be conceded by everybody,the most finished gen- tleman. And this was true of him in the highest sense. I mean that it pertained not to his exterior, but to his character and his soul. It was founded on a high sense of honor, a deli- cate perception of what was due to others, and was due from them to him. His dignity of manner was not so much model- ed after the old style, which the gentlemen of the days before the Revolution handed down, as it ran back into dignity of character; it proceeded from a self-valuation, which, without being assuming, takes the right place, neither depriving others of what is their due, nor being afraid to occupy a position which is fairly ones own. But the radical essential trait of his gentlemanly character was gentleness and kindness. This led him to study the pleasure, to respect the feelings of those in whose society he was placed; and this, whether they were high or low in the world. For the poor, the dependent, the young, the undistinguished,for all, he had a good word; and the word was not an empty token, but the indication of the truth that lay in the heart. Hence all loved him. It could not be that with manners and a bearing like this, manifesting unusual kindness of nature, Professor SILLIMAN should not enter with grace and beauty into all the circles of life. Among his fellow-citizens, while all gave him that respect which was due to his person and character, he aroused some- thing more than distant respect, for his kindness brought all men near to him, and took away a sense of distance even from the humblest. Among his colleagues he moved in unbroken harmony of intercourse, not to mention that nearer intercoQrse 142 [Jan., Prof. Benjamin Silliman, Senior, of more than half a century subsisting between him and those earlier associates of his, one of whom left us more than ten years ago, and the other survives to follow the remains of his earliest friend to the grave this day.* As a friend he was con- siderate, kind, ready to make efforts and sacrifices to serve his friends and promote their interests. In the relations of do- mestic life he was all that a wife and children could desire. His home was a happy home, and as his children, with their children, came back to the old house, he was ever the bright center of the circle. For his only brother he ever cherished the warmest attachment. Letters were interchanged almost weekly; and in the last but one, under the date of Novem- ber 8th, he writes, I love frequent responses, especially as the time approaches when a surviving brother may call, bnt no brothers voice will answer, until we shall be reunited in heaven. This great kindliness of character rested on a base of sincere religion. It is not known when he was first called to consider his condition as a sinner before God, or when and in what way he was led to the faith and hope of a Christian. Without any distinctly marked experience, it is supposed, and without knowing when his religious life began, he came forward, when he was a tutor in college to profess his faith, and to join the communion of Christians. He is thus the oldest member but one of the College Church. I am permitted to make an extract from a private paper of his, which he drew up on the ~ith of September, 1802, the day on which he first partook of the Lords Supper. This day, he writes, I intend with the permission and assistance of the good Spirit of God, to give myself up publicly, in a perpetual covenant, with God as my Father, with Jesns Christ as my Saviour, and with the Holy Spirit as my Sanctifier. 0 Thon Triune God, my Creator, my Redeemer, and my Sanctifier, accept me in the covenant of grace; dispose of me according to thy own good pleasure; employ me in thy service; save me in thy own way; and * A temporary illness and the weather, prevented President Day from being at the funeral. 1865.] Prof Benjamin Silliman, Senior. 143 enable me to perform with fidelity the solemn act of publicly committing my soul into thy hands. Not because T am as- sured of my souls health do I thns resolve to profess and pro- inise. I am not without hope, although it is but faint and glimmering, that God has accepted of my soul, which was early given up to him in baptism by my pious parents, one of whom I trust [his father], is now singing the song of Moses and the Lamb, and the other, I trust, is fast ripening for heaven; nor can I entirely despair that the secret act of self-dedication which has been performed in my closet, has been regarded by Him who searcheth the heart and trieth the reins. 0, my Redeemer, when I this day for the first time take the bread, the sacred symbol of thy flesh, which was torn for my sins, and drink the wine, that sacred symbol of thy blood, which was shed for my sins, may I be melted with grief for my sins, warmed with gratitude for thy disinterested love, and elevated in hope by the remembrance that my Redeemer liveth, and that I shall stand before him at the last day. Then again, a year after his first communion, he wrote a doc- ument from which an extract or two will illustrate his religious feelings and principles. It bears the date of Sept. 11th, 1803. On that day I vowed not only to resign all sinful inclina- tions, but to resign friends and even life, should God call me so to do. I promised, as far as possible, to work out my own sal- vation, but with fear and trembling, humbly hoping for the blessing of God, without which ii can do nothing. Then he speaks of the mercies of the year, and among the rest, that he has received an appointment which will afford him a comfortable and honorable support, with the prospect of ex- tensive usefulness to the .young and to his country. ~Then, after lamenting his ingratitude and coldness, he closes as fol- lows: .~ 0 Heavenly Father, I implore thine aid through the Spirit of truth,should my life be spared another yearto en- able inc to live more agreeably to the character of a Christ- ian, more agreeably to thy holy will and to my own solemn professions; and wilt thou assist me this day to renew my covenant with thee, and having renewed, to keep it inviolate. The religions life, the public profession of which was marked 144 Prof. Benjamin Siilimctn, Senior. [Jan., by such serious purposes, flowed on in a consistent and blame- less course until the end. To the interests of religion in the college and elsewhere his heart was ever open. He often in- troduced religious reflections and religious counsel into his lec- tures. He carried his religious principles with him into every circle, and although a most polite man and most careful not to hurt the feelings of others, was not afraid or unwilling to avow himself everywhere a Christian. He was a warm and earnest advocate of those measures of reform by which young persons may be kept and others rescued from destroying indulgences. He rejoiced in any signs that religion was getting firmer hold of the students. He reverenced the Sabbath. He was a de- vout man, one who morning and evening prayed in his family, and who steadfastly communed with God in private. He brought up his children religiously, and, as the blessing of God on the family training, saw them all walking in the steps of Christ. He was a believing man; one who was perhaps never disturbed by those doubts which now harass so many; one who was neither fond of abstruse religious speculation, nor needed that his faith should have the support of reasoning, but rested his faith on the simple word of God, and was content to rest there. He was a believing man, and amid all the contradictions that physical science seems to utter against revelation, he held with a firm hold on the records of the Old Testament, and was not shaken by the revelations of his favorite study of Geology. He was a trustful man; leaning like a little child on the word and promises of God, and the more childlike in his trust, as he advanced in years. He was also a hopeful man; apparently not afraid to die, but accustomed to commit himself into the hands of Christ with a confidence in his salvation. He was a grateful man. In the evening of his life especially he seemed to have been much affected by the goodness of God. On his birthday, August 8, 1863, lie writes thus in a paper of private devotion: ~y life has been prolonged to four-score years and four; I trust, Heavenly Father, that I am deeply grateful for this long life, full of mercies, although very imperfectly requited to thee, by the obedience due from a humble being to my great Benefactor. To recite my mercies would be to recount the 1865.1 Prof. Benjamin Silliman, Senior. 145 story of my life. Then he makes mention of his sins, and after speaking of the Saviours life on earth, closes thns This) 0 heavenly Father, is the Saviour in whom we trust. His death on the cross assures our hopes of salvation. And he closes his reflections on his last birthday in the same strain: I can only repeat that my sole dependence for salvation rests upon the blessed iRedeemer, who appears to me more precious as I daily approach the period when I shall receive my dis- charge from this life, to enter on the endless future. A life built up on such foundation, and animated by such feelings, was a life of probity and of usefulness. Nor can it be doubted that the spirit of the gospel influenced his manners and presided over his intercourse with others; that formed as he w~s by nature to be courtly and gentlemanly, he was made by his religion a truer gentleman than he would have been without it, that he was more anxious to serve others, more re- gardful of their feelings, more kind to those who could render him no kindness in return. On the other hand, his religious principle made him more indignant at meanness and baseness, more intolerant of oppression and wrong. Thus his life of usefulness and happiness passed on, until in 1853 he resigned his professorship in Yale College. A little before this, in 1851, he accompanied his son and some other friends on a visit to Europe, taking a look at England for the second time, after nearly half a century, and traveling for the first time through France, Switzerland, Italy, and Sicily. An account of this visit to Europe from his pen, appeared in 1853. In 1852 his old friend, Professor Kingsley, was called away ; one of those two associates with whom he had been in the most intimate connection for more than half a century. In 1853 his son was put into the chair of chemistry, as in 1850 his son-in-law, Professor Dana, had been selected for that of geology; but as these two gentlemen could not imme- diately enter into the active duties of their professorships, he continued to give lectures in both departments until 1855, when he retired altogether from instruction and discipline in the college. And thus the last link, which bound the times of Dr. VOL. XXIV. 10 146 Prof. Benjamin SiUiman, Senior. [Jan., Dwight with these times, was severed. The three men who had been the permanent officers in company with that dis- tinguished man, who had with him borne the burden of college affairs, and mainly sustained the institution after he was gonethese three had now ceased to influence the college, ex- cept through the pupils they had raised up. It is pleasant, as we look back on the history of the college, to commemorate their unbroken friendship for each other. Most unlike in their qualities of mind, their traits of character, their tastes and their pursuits, they yet were united together in close bonds, respected and loved one another, rejoiced in each others successes, and acted in uniform harmony. Had there been dissensions in this small Faculty, had either of them broken the laws of friendship and forbearance, our college could not have reached its present prosperity. The eleven years of Professor SmLIM~Ns retirement from academic labors were passed in singular peace and domestic happiness. God did not him off in the time of old aoe cast nor forsake him when his strength failed, but rather increased his greatness aud comforted him on every side. Years before he had experienced domestic affliction; he had lost a son of fond hopes, and soon after, at brief intervals, three other young children. Later his wife, the mother of his children, had been taken away from him. But in these years, since 1853, his immediate family circle continued unbroken. His dwell- ing was between that of his son and his son-in-law, who were carrying on the torch of science which he had first lighted. He received frequent visits from his other children, and saw them filling honorable and useful stations in society. His grand- children multiplied around him, gladdening him by their cheer- ful faces, and rendering to him that love which he was so well able to awaken in the young. As a veteran of science, a man who had acted an important part in~ the world, a friend of re- ligion and morality, a man of courtesy and gentleness, he was welcome in all circles; his fellow-citizens honored him; multi- tudes whom he had educated or had known in earlier life, called upon him as they passed through the city. his health and vigor continued to a good degree unimpaired; he could 1865.] Prof. Benjamin Silliman, Senior. 147 be present steadily in the house of God, could usually walk to a distance from his dwelling, and was rarely disabled from seeing and mingling with his friends. Of friends, his imme- diate vicinity was full, and among the rest two gentle men of great worth, whom he had known from their college life af the beginning of the century and onward, established themselves in his neighborhood, and were on terms of close friendship with him. There was nothing in his circumstances to annoy him or to excite apprehension for the future. His days passed happily away in private reading and composition, in inter- course with his family and with other friends, and in corres- pondence with friends abroad. He had none of the morose- ness which is charged on old age; but the spirit of kindness, only more tender than ever, the spirit of piety, only more hopeful and childlike, shed a lustre on the evening of his happy and honorable life. It is pleasant and profitable here to put on record the feel- ings which he had in regard to the events through which the country has passed for the last ten years. For a time, although opposed to slavery, he acquiesced in that policy which sought to conciliate the South, and to keep the peace by half-way measures. But when atrocious wrongs began to be committed in Kansas, his sense of justice was violated, his indignation was aroused, and with many others among us, he felt that a crisis was coming on in which a man must be either against the slave power or against the country. For his sympathy with sufibring Kansas, strongly and publicly ex- pressed, he received numerous letters of remonstrance or of vituperation from former acquaintances in the southern country. But his convictions were strong; nothing moved him, and events only confirmed his judgments. Since the breaking out of the rebellion he has been most earnest in his support of the government; and most desirous to have the plague of slavery removed from all our borders. He has been most hopeful, also. It is remarkable, that while our younger men have been anxious and sometimes despondent, our old men of wisdom and religious principle have been full of con- fidence, as if their spiritual eye looked further into the 148 Prof. Benjamin Silliman, Senior. [Jan., divine counsels, and attained to something of prophetic strain, and their heart drank in courage from the manifest protection of the Almighty pervading our past history. Such was he, when, a few days ago, on the evening of the 13th of the present month, he attended a service on behalf of the Sanitary Commission. The house was crowded and the night air chill, and he thought he had taken a little cold; in the evening of the next day he was seized with sharp pains in the chest, which were afterwards transferred to the space between his shoulders and to the back part of his head. This was followed by fever and other symptoms of some dis- turbance. He was ill all the week, but seemed to be regain- ing his usual health. On the 20th, which was Sunday, he was not well enough to be present at public worship. On this day he wrote in his journal as follows: Nov. 20th. I am not able to attend public worship at present, but am thankful that I can employ n~y time usefully at home. I am warned by this occurrence, that my health, although usually so good, may be in an instant subverted, and that the call for departure may be sudden, as has happened to Mr. Elton of Waterbury, and others during the week. I leave time and manner with my Creator, relying entirely upon Christ Jesus, my ever blessed Saviour, to rescue me from the power and condemnation of sin. Again, on the 21st, Monday last, he writes: I have been able to resume my pen and am gradually re- covering my usual state of feeling, but the shock has been severe, and to an old man serious. As the cause is apparent, I must avoid, in future, exposure to a cold night air, which brought on the attack ;the next may fasten on the lungs or the heart, and may prove fatal. These were, I believe, the last entries in his journal. Through Tuesday and Wednesday he was able to enjoy the society of his friends, and he intended on Thursday to be at the thanksgiving gathering of his family circle, which was to be at Professor Danas. On the morning of this dayand here I use chiefly the words of anotherhe awoke at an early 1865.] Prof. Benjamin Silliman, Senior 149 hour, having had a good nights rest. After remarking upon the return of Thanksgiving day, and the many reasons for grati- tude to God, he gave utterance, as his custom was, to a prayer, in which he rendered thanks for his returning health and strength, and prayed for his children and grandchildren, and especially for his son absent in California. He then re- quested Mrs. Silliman to repeat the Lords Prayer. He also spoke of the causes for national gratitude, rejoicing that the nation had been permitted to unite in elevating again to the presidency a man who had proved himself so true, so honest, and so upright in conducting the affairs of the government as Mr. Lincoln. He then repeated five verses of the fifth Psalnzi, according to Watts version, beginning Lord, in the morning thou shalt hear My voice ascending high, and also asked to have another hymn said. Come, Holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove, was then repeated. Calling attention now to the improved clearness and strength of his voice, he said that he should be able to have more ex- tended family worship than he had been able to have for a few days past, and proposed that one of Davids psalms of thanksgiving should be read, when the family should be assembled. He then enquired if it would be prudent for him to attend church that day, expressing a desire to go, if it were advisable. in a protracted conversation he spoke most affectionately of his wife and children, and just after he had uttered words of endearn~ent to Mrs. Silliman, she noticed a sudden change of countenance: a slightly heavy breath followed, and he was gone. What a happy death, a thousand voices have said, since the news of his death went abroad, and I can only repeat the utterance,what a happy death, to die without pain, in a mo- mnent, with no warning, when a long life had been making preparation for, death. What a happy death, to die with expressions of affection to the members of his family on his lips,happy for him that the last moments of life were filled 150 Prof. Benjamin Sillirnan, Senior. [Jan., with love, happy for them that he left them such a precious testament. What a happy death, to die almost in the act of giving thanks, to have the praises of Thanksgiving day sudden- ly broken off only that they might be renewed with one more cause of thankfulness in the Fathers mansion on high. We that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened; not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life. But such a death is almost a clothing of what is mortal with immortal life. 1805.] Univer8al S~/frage. 151 ARTICLE V1.UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE. IT may be remembered by the readers of the New Englander, that in the year 1860, when the administration of Mr. Buchan- an was becoming daily more contemptible, and just as the country was marshaling its forces for that political campaign, which resulted in the election of Mr. Lincoln, a letter of Thom- as Babington Macaulay appeared in onr papers, in which he declared himself strongly against popular government, and foretold the ultimate overthrow of our institutions, by reason of our principle of general suffrage. The letter was read by multitudes in this country with surprise and sadnesswith sur- prise, because Mr. Macaulay had shown himself such a bold and stalwart defender of the Puritans, that it would seem nat- ural for him to adopt the institutions, which had grown out of their principleswith sadness, not only becanse we had lost the good opinion of a man whom we bad respected and loved, bnt also, because the weak and imbecile government of Mr. Buchanan had brought the nation to such a pass, that these words seemed to have an air of truth and soberness, such as they hardly could have had, at any other point in our whole national history. We seemed, through the utter lack of ener- gy in our executive head, to be drifting helples~ly upon the rocks. If any one will recall th~ impressions with which he read the letter, when it first met his eye, we doubt not he will recollect, that it carried with it a certain weight which it would not have had in almost any other circumstances. Though the letter is somewhat long to be quoted in full, yet as we desire to make it the basis of some reflections, and as the reader may like to see it again, and to have it within easy reach for refer- ence, we propose to give it entire. The letter is addressed to Hon. Henry S. Randall, of New York, author of the Life of 4 effersom The letter was not published until after Mr. Macaulays death, which occurred in 1859.

1805.] Univer8al S~/frage. 151 ARTICLE V1.UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE. IT may be remembered by the readers of the New Englander, that in the year 1860, when the administration of Mr. Buchan- an was becoming daily more contemptible, and just as the country was marshaling its forces for that political campaign, which resulted in the election of Mr. Lincoln, a letter of Thom- as Babington Macaulay appeared in onr papers, in which he declared himself strongly against popular government, and foretold the ultimate overthrow of our institutions, by reason of our principle of general suffrage. The letter was read by multitudes in this country with surprise and sadnesswith sur- prise, because Mr. Macaulay had shown himself such a bold and stalwart defender of the Puritans, that it would seem nat- ural for him to adopt the institutions, which had grown out of their principleswith sadness, not only becanse we had lost the good opinion of a man whom we bad respected and loved, bnt also, because the weak and imbecile government of Mr. Buchanan had brought the nation to such a pass, that these words seemed to have an air of truth and soberness, such as they hardly could have had, at any other point in our whole national history. We seemed, through the utter lack of ener- gy in our executive head, to be drifting helples~ly upon the rocks. If any one will recall th~ impressions with which he read the letter, when it first met his eye, we doubt not he will recollect, that it carried with it a certain weight which it would not have had in almost any other circumstances. Though the letter is somewhat long to be quoted in full, yet as we desire to make it the basis of some reflections, and as the reader may like to see it again, and to have it within easy reach for refer- ence, we propose to give it entire. The letter is addressed to Hon. Henry S. Randall, of New York, author of the Life of 4 effersom The letter was not published until after Mr. Macaulays death, which occurred in 1859. 152 Univer8al Sttffrage. [Jan., TO HENRY S. RANDALL, ESQ., ETC. Holly Lodge, Kensington, London, May 23, 1857. DEAR Sin :. . . You are surprised to learn that I have not a high opinion of Mr. Jeffersonand I am a little surprised at your surprise. I am certain that I never wrote a line and that I never in parliament, in conversation, or even on the hustingsa place where it is the fashion to court the populaceuttered a word indicating an opinion that the supreme authority in a state ought to be entrusted to the majority of citizens, told by the head; in other words, to the poorest and most ignorant part of society. I have long been convinced that institutions purely democratic must, sooner or later, destroy liberty, or civilization, or both. In Europe, where the population is dense, the effect of such institutions would be almost instantaneous. What happened lately in France is an example. In 1848, a pure democracy was established there. During a short time, there was reason to expect a general spoliation, a national bankruptcy, a new partition of the soil, a maximum of prices, a ruinous load of taxation laid on the rich for the purpose of supporting the poor in idleness. Such a system would, in twenty years, have made France as poor and barbarous as the France of the Carloving- inns. Happily, the danger was averted; and now there is a despotism, a silent tribune, an enslaved press. Liberty is gone; but civilization has been saved. I have not the smallest doubt that, if we had a purely democratic government here, the effect would be the same. Either the poor would plunder the rich, and civilization would perish; or order and property would be saved by a strong mili- tary government, and liberty would perish. You may think that your country enjoys an exemption from these evils. I will frankly own to you that I am of a different opinion. Your fate I believe to be certain, though it is deferred byn physical cause. As long as you have a boundless extent of fertile and unoccupied land, your laboring population will be far more at ease than the laboring population of the Old World; and; while that is the case, the Jeffersonian polity may continue to exist without causing any fa- tal calamity. But the time will come when New England will be as thickly peopled as Old England. Wages will be as low; and will fluctuate as much with you as with us. You will have your Manchesters and Birmiaghams, and, in these Manchesters and Birmingh ams, hundreds of thousands of artisana will assuredly be sometimes out of work. Then your institutions will be fairly brought to the test. Distress everywhere makes the laborer mutinous and discontented, and inclines him to listen with eagerness to agitators, who tell him that it is a mon- strous iniquity that one man should have a million while another cannot get a full meal. In bad years, there is plenty of grumbling here and sometimes a little riot- ing; but it matters little; for here the sufferers are not the rulers. The supreme power is in the hands of a class, numerous indeed, but selectof an educated class, of a class which is, and knows itself to be, deeply interested in the security of pro- perty and the maintenance of order. Accordingly, the malcontents are firmly yet gently restrained. The bad time is got over without robbing the wealthy to relieve the indigent. The springs of national prosperity soon begin to flow again; work is plentiful; wages rise; and allis tranquillity and cheerfulness. I have seen England pass three or four times through such critical seasons as I have described. Through such seasons the United States will have to pass, in the course of the 1865.] Univer8al 8uffrage. 153 next century, if not of this. How will you pass through them? I heartily wish you a good deliverance. But my reason and my wishes are at war; and I cannot help foreboding the worst. It is quite plain that your government will never be able to restrain a distressed and discontented majority. For with you the major- ity is the government, and has the rich, who are always a minority, absolutely at its mercy. The day will come when, in the State of New York, a multitude of people, none of whom has had more than half a breakfast, or expects to have more than half a dinner, will choose a Legislature. Is it possible to doubt what sort of a Legislature will be chosen? On one side is a statesman preaching patience, re- spect for vested rights, strict observance of public faith. On the other is a dema. gogue ranting about the tyranny of capitalists and usurers, and asking why any- body should be permitted to drink champagne and to ride in a carriage, while thousands of honest folks are in want of necessaries. Which of the two candidates is likely to be preferred by a working man who hears his children cry for more bread? I seriously apprehend that you xviii, in some such season of adversity as I have described, do things which will prevent prosperity from returning; that you will act like people who should, in a year of scarcity, devour all the seed corn, and thus make the next year a year, not of scarcity, but of absolute famine. There will be, I fear, spoliation. The spoliation will increase the distress. The distress will produce fresh spoliation. There is nothing to stop you. Your con- stitution is all sail and no anchor. As I said before, when a society has entered on this downward progress, either civilization or liberty must perish. Either some C~sar or Napoleon will seize the reins of government with a strong hand; or your republic will be as fearfully plundered and laid waste by barbarians in the twentieth century as the Roman empire was in the fifthwith this difference, that the Runs and Vandals, who ravaged the Roman empire, came from with- out, and that your Runs and Vandals will have been engendered within your own country by your own institutions Thinking thus, of course I cannot reckon Jefferson among the benefactors of mankind. I readily admit that his intentions were good, and his abilities con- siderable. Odious stories have been circulated about his private life ; but I do not know on what evidence these stories rest; and I think it probable that they are false, or monstrously exaggerated. I have no doubt I shall derive both pleas- ure and information from your account of him. I have the honor to he, dear sir, Your faithful servant, T. B. MACAULAY. Since Mr. IMlacanlay wrote these words, events have trans- pired on this contin~nt which neither he nor we could, at the time, have anticipated. Great changes have come over us, and the whole aspect of our public affairs is new and surprising. We have just passed through a presidential election, which, for many reasons, must stand as one of the most remarkable in our annals. These Quadrennial campaigns, which may be re- garded as the great crises of our national life, are never expected Univer8al Suffrage. [Jan., to come and go without a large amount of stir and excitement. Nor would it be well that they should. This wide-spread polit- ical awakening, by which the nation is thoroughly moved from center to circumference, though attended with many incidental evils, is, on the whole, healthy and safe. It acts upon the great body of the people like a grand system of public instruction and education. Even the dullest minded foreigner has some ideas forced through his head, at such tjrues, which never could be got there by any other processnot even the surgical operation, suggested by Sydney Smith. But at no time since our history as a nation began, have the currents of popular thought and emotion run in such deep and broad channels, as during this late campaign. Something like a religions solemnity gathered about many of the preliminary meetings, and especially about the 8th of Novemberthe great day of decision. The appendages customary in such a can- vasstorch-light processions and the likeseemed trivial and vain, and were for the most part dispensed with. With a gigantic civil war shaking the continent, the people were too much in earnest to be pleased with trappings and gewgaws. In the great meeting held in Fanneil Hall, on the night after the election, three hours had not elapsed from the time that the last ballots were falling like snow-flakes over all the land, when it was known, by news, gathered from near and far, how the contest had been decided. And when one of the speakers said in substance: The result of this days work is not to be ascribed to the operation of mere political machinery, or to any human contrivance ;this is the Lords doings and ~it is mar- velous in our eyes ;the deep and quiet good, good, which ran through the vast assembly, evinced the temper of the peo- ple, and revealed the emotion, well nigh religions, by which the souls of men were stirred. Nor is the view thus taken to be regarded as partial and one- sided, and as coming from a people disposed to magnify their own affairs and think too much of their own importance. In all this political contest we have been compassed about with a great cloud of witnesses. The civilized world has been looking on with conflicting emotions, but with the most intense 1865.1 Univer8al Suffiage. 155 interest. Intelligent observers, standing afar off, amid the in- stitutions of other lands, have been even more impressed than we ourselves with the strange peculiarity of the scene. We have been too much mixed up with what was passing to be fully aware of the spectacle presented. We have been standing too near the picture to see it to the best advantage. Richard Cob- den, looking on from England, uses in this connection, which, in the mouth of an American, might seem fulsome. In a recent speech he is reported as saying, that he regarded the late peaceable presidential election as one of the most sublime spectacles in the whole history of the world, and said a people who could do that had given to the world a spectacle snch as never was presented before by any other people. They had re solved, notwithstanding their great sacrifices, that slavery should be abolished. He reiterated his belief, and with far greater emphasis than ever before, that he should not live to see two independent States on the continent of North America. It may not, therefore, be unsuitable, in the light of past ex- perience, and of present prospects, to look again somewhat closely at this principle of general popular suffrage, to see whether it has in it those dangersthose foreshadowings of evil, which Mr. Macaulay ascribes to it. Many of us, in years past, would have been well pleased, had some of the early re- strictions upon the right of suffrage remainedor if these had been found unjust had others been substituted for them. Vari- ous attempts have, now and then, been made to introduce these checks and limitations. In some of the States these restrictions still exist, but how far they are really operative we are not able to say. (We are speaking now, of course, of the free States, and not the little oligarchies of the South.) Whatever the facts may be, in those States that yet impose some form ot check upon the right of suffrage, it is obvious that the general drift and tendency of the times have been to break down and remove these barriers; and to give an open path to the ballot- box to all native born and naturalized white male citizens of the country over twenty-one years of age. We have accepted this state of things as a kind of necessary evil, and we are not yet prepared, fully, to say that some restrictions would not be 156 Univer8al Suffrage. [Jan., wholesome. But we frankly confess, that we have less fear of what is to come from this principle of universal suffrage than formerly. The practical operation of it, looked at upon the broad scale, tends to remove apprehension. In the first place, there are certain open and obvious effects arising from it, which are in themselves good, without question; and unless they are overborne by others which are evil, should not be lightly valued, or easily given up. One of these effects, and the one perhaps most universally noticed and spoken of among the people, is, that it furnishes a safe and quick outlet for all stormy passions, and brings the agitated public mind again to rest and peace. It takes off the fiery elements, with which the dark and chai~ged, and passes them noiselessly angry cloud is sur- into the earth, instead of having them come down in a crashing bolt upon the political fabric. And herein we conceive Mr. Macaulay was laboring under one of his grave mistakes. He was arguing from the great crowd of European population, to whom this privilege of voting is denied. His conclusion was, that what the European masses would be disposed to do, without this gift, the same thing the masses of this country would do with the gift. It is a noii sequitur, as all our experience goes to show. In onr re- cent election, by reason of the fact that we have civil war in the land, the temptations to open force and violence were very great. The wilder passions of wicked men were roused by the very scent of blood in the air. Threats many and terrible were whispered abroad. But in this case we have lived to see what we have always seen before, that when the great masses of our population have gone up and deposited their votes, and the issue is thus decided, the storm ceases. The people go, one to his farm and another to his merchandise, and there is quiet in the land. Now, suppose for a moment, that that great plot which was r9cently unearthed in Indiana, by which some hundreds of thousands of men were banded together in secret associations to work the overthrow of liberty, (not a natural outgrowth, by the way, of onr free society, but only an outlying organization of that accursed institution, which has all the while been an 1865.] Univer8al Su]frage. 157 anomaly among us, and whose days we may now hope are num- bered,)suppose this plot had been formed among the outcast population of Great Britainamong men having no share or participation in the government, would a general election have done aught to disarm their fury, or would it not, especially had the result been adverse to their wishes, have rather increased their rage, and deepened their emnity? Mr. IMiacaulay cannot reason safely from masses of men, so circumstanced, to the free population of this country. We all had onr fears until election day was passed, but now we know that the threatening cloud has been disarmed, and the storm is hushed. It is a little thing one may saythis right to vote. Tis a little thing To give a cup of water ( bnt there are great consequences hanging upon little things. The man who has his honest share in the government is in a very different mood of mind from one who stands apart like a pariah and outcast. Another obviously good effeef of this principle is, that it has a quickening and elevating influence upon the lower classes of society. The simple possession of this privilege, without refer- ence to the connected influences, has of itself this tendency. The man is more of a man, simply because he has been recog- nized and treated as a man. But it is more especially through the attending circumstances of this gift that his elevation and enlargement proceed. He comes to discuss, in one mode or another, great pirestions of public policy. He is appealed to as a thinkeras one who must make up his opinion on points at issue before the people. And though his head may be very thick, and ideas may have a difficult and dangerous passage to reach his mind, still he is all the while in a state of education. Not only, therefore, are the humbler masses in this country in a very diff~rent state of feeling toward the government from that outlying population which Mr. Macaulay had in his eye, and which is the shame and disgrace of England, but under the influences thus acting upon them they soon come to be a diker- ent order of beings. Their thoughts run in other channels. Their hopes are derived from other sources. There is T10 natural 158 Univer8al Suffrage. [Jan., war between them and the government that is over them. They are a part of the government, and their interests lie in the direction of its stability and snccess. There is no honor which their children may not reach. They themselves see men rising up from the humblest places in society, and coming to fill offices of great dignity and responsibility. All this element of moral and intellectual advancement Mr. iMiacaulay loses sight of, when he draws his conclusions from the old world and ap- plies them to the new. There is another very important thought in this connection. There is much less chance for political bribery to work and pre- vail where the principle of universal suffrage is allowed, than when the right of voting is confined to few. This species of corruption will be likely to exist to a greater or less extent wherever the privilege of suffrage is enjoyed. But contrary to what one may at first think, the motives which prompt to it, and the chances of success in it, are immensely lessened, accord- ing as you widen the base, and include the greatest number possible in your voting list. There are, in the latter case, too many who must be bought up to make the scheme practicable; and what is better still, the number that cannot be bought, at any price, may overbalance and defeat these schemes of iniquity, even though the largest expenditures may be made. Bribery can never come to be such a compacted system andtrade, when it has to act on a land ruled by universal suffrage, as in a coun- try like England, where the voters are comparatively few. From the very circumstances of the case the .whole system sits lightly even on men wh o are willing, in a certain way, to yield themselves to it. In our late election there was many a poli- tician who had stirred around benevolently to pay poor mens taxes, or who had quietly slipped a little retaining-fee into the hands of laborers, and who had for his pains the satisfaction of seeing these men come to the polls and vote on the other side. England and Wales, with a population of somewhat more than 20,000,000, seyid to the House of Commons 498 members. The constituency that elects these men is about 950,000or less than one voter to twenty people. In a population where the principle of general suffrage prevails, there will be not far from 1865.1 Univer8ai Suffrage. 159 one voter for every five inhabitants. The State of New York alone furnishes about 700,000 voters. In short, the law of uni- versal suffrage, in any given population, will secure.a little more than four times the number of voters that the English system gives. The voters, therefore, who are to determine whether this or that mau shall be a member of the House of Commons, are comparatively few, and if only a small number can be bought over, even though the price per head may be large, the balance can, perhaps, be turned. But when the constituency that sends a man to Congress is composed of fifteen or twenty thousand voters, the hope of effecting an election by purchase is far more vain, and the motives to make the attempt are wanting. A man can reasonably undertake to stop a few crevices through which the wind is blowing, but to go out into the open world, and stop the free air of heaven in its onward sweep, is another thing altogether! Hence, we have often read, in English history, of the prevalence of bribery and political corruption in the elections, such as we are strangers to, in this country. We do not wish to boast of any immacu- late purity in this respect. We have enough to be ashamed of in the fraudulent arts and contrivances of demagogues among us. But that wholesale buying of votes, which has often been seen in England, is not in harmony with the principle of general suffrage. There is also another form of political corruption, which has almost always prevailed in this country to a greater or less ex- tent, in connection with every form of restricted suffrage, but which can find no place under a system of general suffrage. We refer to those measures of evasion, by which the whole spirit and intent of the restriction are nullified, while the mere letter of tIme law is artfully retained. Such practices are in a high degree demoralizing in their influence upon society, and any system which saves us from such exposures, is, so far at least, good. We might speak, also, in this connection, of the endless flexi- bility of the system, by which it adapts itself easily to the new political issues, as they arise, and, especially, to great national 160 Univer8al iS~ffrage. [Jan., exigencies. Just in proportion as you can take the system out from that forced and artificial domain, where bribery and cun- ning find full play, in the same degree do you secure that easy bending by which new, moral, and political questions are ade- quately met. The friends of Mr. Lincoln thonght they secured a great triumph in his first election in 1860. But it was only a plurality triumph even in the States that voted the present yeai~. lie was in an actual popular minority of some one hundred and fifty thousand, if we mistake not, in these very States. But mark the change which has since taken place. This year, he carries these States by an actual majority of between three and fonr hundred thousand, showing a change since 1860 of some four hundred and fifty or five hundred thousand. So de- cided is the triumph, that had all the seceded States voted, and had they cast their entire vote against Mr. Lincoln, he would still have a large majority in the Electoral College. We wish now to bring forward some considerations which may serve to show that we have already passed the point of highest danger, in the application of this principle of general suffrage,at least for a long time to come. What may happen in the far distant future, we will not undertake to prophesy. We have had now, for many years, to maintain this principle amid circumstances the most trying, and under influences the most malign and corrupting, and as we look out upon the future, there is a sense of relief. In the first place, the dominating influence of slavery upon this continent has been wholly adverse to any fair trial of this experiment of popular government. Slavery is a thing of might and violence. iDisregarding the natural rights of the black man, it soon learns to disregard, just so far as it can, the natural rights of the white man also. It is essentially oligar- chic. It scoffs at the idea of being ruled by popular major- ities. Only a few months since, there appeared in one of the Richmond papers a long Article based upon a speech made by Mr. Raymond of New york, in which the editor thanked the Lord that they (the Southern people) were happily through with this whole business of popular majorities and minorities. The Article was a virtual confession that the leaders of this re 1866.] Univer8al & ~ffraae. 101 bellion have had no idea of giving any political power to the great masses of the Southern people, white or black, but that it should be kept entirely in the hands of a few. Tn every general election, now for a long course of years, this base and corrupt institution has been acting out, by influences direct and indirect, over the whole landsuggesting every species of violence and fraudteaching the base minded voter to stick at nothing, whereby he might ensure successcounseling open force and villainy, where milder means would not prevail, and, in general, bringing within the sacred precincts of the ballot- box all those low ideas which prevail in the boxing-ring and on the plantation. The system has had to move forward, burdened with this enormous load. In the case of Kansas, we had an illustrious and utimistakable exhibition of the spirit of the South, touching popular government and the rights of majorities. We shall take it for granted that this corrupt and corrupting power is soon to be utterly overthrown, and that its foul suggestions will not come in to disturb popular elections in the future, as they have done in the past. Another evil influence under which this principle has had to labor, and which must also be regarded as abnormal, is the im- mense foreign immigration, which has been for many years pouring in upon us. It serves to show the strength of our po- litical system, that we have been able to appropriate such a mass of crude and unshaped material, with so little of positive disturbance. Nevertheless it is an evil, and it is to be recog- nized as such. In our recent election, if all this foreign element could have been left o4tif, in short, no one could have voted who was not able to read the newspapers, all intelligent and right-minded men throughout the land would have been per- fectly sure from the first of the result. This tide coming in from the Old World, must by and by grow less. We have already draIned off pretty effectually the refuse population of Ireland, which, being a part of the ]3ritish Empire, furnishes us with the lowest order of material, taken in the mass, with which we have to contend. Taking all the countries of Europe into view, and for a time, this stream of immigration ma~y con- tinue to flow as freely as it has in the past. But there must VOL. xxiv. 11 162 Un iver8al Suffrage. [Jan., come, by and by, a limit to it, and even now, relatively to the whole population of the country, it must be less than formerly. Again, with the destruction of slavery, we anticipate that something like the free public education of the North will ere long prevail over the whole land. Herein is one of our greatest safeguards. With a people educated like the native-born pop- ulation of the North, there would be little to fear. And so in- corporated is this idea of education with all our habits of thought, that, fast as our free institutions spread, they must now, by a kind of necessity, carry along with them this princi- ple. The signs are even now auspicious. Wherever there is an opening into this dark realm of slavery, there goes the spelling-book, there goes the school. These primary institu- tions of free society leap forward, by a kind of instinct, to fill the aching void. With education also must go religion, not that form which rests upon a few texts only, like servants be obedient unto your masters, but the full, free, loving gospel of Jesus Christ, with compassion and redemption for sinners. And, now in reference to those possible contingencies which Mr. Macaulay has so graphically sketched out, we have to say, that he does not seem to be sufficiently aware that it is the na- ture of equal and just law, in its normal working, to secure a nation against just these contingencies. When the people themselves make the laws, they do not leave them in that grind- ing and oppressive shape, in which the laws of England are found to-day. And what the poor millions of England now want, is not a chance to seize and confiscate to their own pri- vate use the enormous wealth of the nobles and merchant princes of the land. No temporary supply of this kind would satisfy their need. They want the laws, the habits, the ens- toms of society so modified and adjusted, that they may have something like a decent reward for their labor, and may not be burdened with an unreasonable share of the public taxes. If they have succeeded by industry and carefulness in laying by a little sum, they want the privilege of going into the market and purchasing a small estate which they may call their own. The laws of England are not made to subserve their welfare, 1865.] Universal & tffrage. 163 but to put the chief reward of their labors into the hands of those who make and administer the government. An investigation set on foot by Parliament, a few years ago, revealed the astounding fact that low as the manufacturing population of England has long been keptpoor and misera- Re as is their lifethe agricultural portion of the people is in a much worse condition. There was a far ore ater prevalence of poverty, vice, and crime among the lower order of farm labor- ers, than among the half-clad and half starved operatives in the large manufacturing centers. And their condition was made what it was by the laws that were over them. No doubt if such a people could get hold of the reins of power, they might at first do some things wild and unseemly. But their general aim would be, to do wit at ought to le donevi2: to reform the laws, so that the man of toil should have his just rewards, and not have them mercilessly filched from him by the grasp- ing avarice of the rich and great. Onr free laws, made by the oeneral voice of the poople, are designed to secure this result and we see no occasion whatever for those fearful forebodings in which Mr. Macaulay, looking upon the lower orders of European society, stripped and despoiled of their rights, has seen fit to indulge. Nothing which we have said or can say abont the inequality of English law, the heavy and unjust burdens imposed upon the laboring classes, equals in severity what some of the most able English writers of to-day are themselves saying on these came topics. Some of the deepest thinkers and most accom- plished scholars of England are thorougly engaged upon this very subject. They are arraigning the govermuent of Eng- land before the civilized world, for neglecting one of its most obvious and pressing duties. Men like Cobden, Mill, Spencer, and Goldwin Smith, see clearly in what direction the whole system is tending, and they raise their voices in timely warning. But their words seem to fail, for the most part, un- heeded upon the ears of the British aristocracy. The lamented Hawthorne, in closing an Article for the Atlantic Monthly, written some two years ago, and entitled Outside Glimpses of English Poverty, uses the following beautiful, impressive 104 Universal Suffrage. [Jan., and prophetic language. After picturing forth the stately beau- ty of those lordly mansions, in which, from generation to gene- ration, the noblemen of England find their homes, he says And is it possible, after all, that there may be a flaw in the title-deeds? Is, or is not, the system wrong that gives one married pair so immense a superfluity of luxurious home, and shuts out a million others from any home whatever? One day or another, safe as they deem themselves, and safe as the hered- itary temper of the people really tends to make them, the gen- tlemen of England will be compelled to face this question. We confess then, that so far from losing confidence in a pop- ular government, the events of the last four years have tended to confirm, and more than confirm, all our previons hopes. We know of no other government on the face of the globe, that could better withstand the mighty strain that has thus been brought to bear upon it, than has our own. The experlinent has revealed a hidden force in free institutions, of which we were not ourselves before aware. We are satisfied that no monarchy in Europe, absolute or limited, could have borne this burden so well, could have mustered and kept in the field such enor- mous forces, with so little friction and disturbance. If we ever supposed a kingly or imperial system mightier for purposes like these, let this be our thought no longer. There is a uni- versality of strength in the free movement of a free and intel- ligent people, which no monarchy can match. There is a to- tality of forces, physical, intellectual, financial, and moral, such as kingly systems do not generate. All the fountains are full to overflowing, by reason of the rain and dew, which long ago descended. The little rills in every direction come trickling down from the mountains. The lonely and scattered school- houses of twenty years ago among the hills, send in their in- fluences. Invention and skill have the whole mind of the na- tion as their base of development, and there is an endless fer- tility and flexibility of contrivance, suited to every exigency. That habit of dull and endless routine, so natural to the op- pressed and uneducated mass of mankind, is thoroughly broken up. Every man is seeking out some way to remove a hin- drance or difficulty, so that he may the better realize in his ~wn 1865.] Univer8al & tffrage. 165 life, what the Psalmist sublimely gives forth, as the design of God in creating man, He made him to have dominion over the works of his hands. He hath put all things under his feet. All these are resources which no monarch, however loudly and earnestly he may call, can summon to his aid from a poor, half-educated, half-starving populace. They must come as the spontaneous up-bursting from deep and multitudinous fountains that press to deliver their supplies. It used to be conceded that kingly governments were supe- rior to republican in respect to the patronage afforded to liter- ature, and more generally in the bestowment of money for purposes of public ornament or utility. But we are disposed no longer to make any such concession. The growth of pub- lic spirit in the nation during the last twenty-five years, and especially the free out-pouring of treasure since the war began, not only for objects connected with the xvar, but for everything ministering to the general good, in distinction from private and individual good, convinces us that republican institutions, when fully developed, will surpass all others in this largehearted and open-handed liberality. IMlen will rise up in larger num- bers than under any other system, who will take delight~ in works of public utilityin plans for general culturewho will be ready, living or dying, to bestow their money to found col- leges, asylums, hospitals, and schools of art. If this be called boa3ting, let it pass for such. But popular government never looked fairer and more promising to us, than it does to-day. In closing this Article there is one point, vitally connected with our subject, and forced upon our attention by all the circumstances of the times, through which we are passing, and which we must not fail to touch. What shall be done with the negroes in respect to this matter of suffrage? In our view, there is but one safe answer to be given. They are, in this re- gard, to stand like other men. They are to be put upon the same foundation, and to be treated in the same way. Of course, there is to be no unseemly haste in this matter. There is an order of naturea law of propriety whichshould be followed. But when our institutions come again into working order, and to their normal condition, then to make any distine 166 Univer8ali Suffrage. [Jan., tion, in this right of voting, on the ground of mere color, is only to invite the Lord again to chastise us, and vex us with his sore judgment. What some one has well said ought to be a maxim in a true political economy, that no- thing is settled in this world until it is settled right. And we are poor scholars, if we have not yet learned that it is not right to place a man apart and treat him as a political outlaw, from the mei~e color of his skin; especially when that man is here innocently, so far as he is concerned, and not as an in- truder into our affairs. We have already intimated that we are not averse to some forms of restriction upon the right of suffrage, if only some way can be found, which shall be safe, and in a good degree free from political corruptions. We do not regard an ignorant man as a desirable voter. But all that we now contend for is, that the restriction which excludes the black man shall ex- clude the white man also, in like circumstances. And to this result we must come, if we would have settled and abiding peace in the land. Then our political fabric touches bottom, and rests down upon its strong and enduring foundations. The work of righteousness shall be peace, and the effect of righteousness, cluiteness and assurance forever. Is there anything to be said against this proposition? The poorest material we have in the land for voting purposes, is, in onr~view,~gur Irish population, taken in the mass. En- shrouded in an ignorance which we cannot easily get at to en- lightenready to go submissively the way that the Roman Catholic church pointsfilled with low and narrow prej udices and superstitions which time alone, and that not in one gener- ation, can remove, when we admit them to the ballot-box, we have something strangely at variance with all our ideas of what a voter ought to be. It h~is been perfectly manifest to every fair and intelligent observer, for many years past, that the free colored people of the North, which in many, yea, in most of the States, have been excluded from the polls, are in every respect far better fitted to enjoy this privilege, than these masses coming to us from the old world. And yet we would not exclude the Irishman. We hope little by little to 1865.1 Universal Suffrage. 167 train him to a better habit of thought and to a better condi- tion. But if we would not exclude him, much less would we exclude the black man, in like circumstances of property and education. By the influences now brought to bear upon the black popu- lation of this country, we shall find in them a sentiment alto- gether friendly to our free institutions. We shall find theni a Protestant people, kindred in religion to the rest of the native born population of the country. The Irishman, by all his habits of thought and methods of treatment, will not be likely very soon to find the negro on his side in politics, and the time may come, when we shall be glad to have this make- weight against Catholic impertinence and foreign interference. It is not however in reference to such contingencies, or to any principle of mere policy, that we urge the claim of the black man. It is a matter of right before God and the law. It is to carry out the first principles of our government. It is to put everything upon a clear and solid basis for the future. If we re- sist and hold back, God will yet lead us about forty years in the wilderness, till the old generation and the old political here- sies shall die out, and the nation shall be prepared by disci- pline and suffering to enter the promised land. 168 Pelaticth Pent. [Jan., AnTICLE VH.PELATJAH PERIT. TJLE remark was made at the funeral of Mr. PELIT, that a human life may be complete in two distinct but co~5rdinate senses. A man may live long enough and well enough to accomplish all the various tasks assigned him by Provi- dence, and may then fitly rest from his labors, while his works do follow him. At the same time and by the operation of the same mental, moral, and physical activities and influ- ences, the mans character may be disciplined, elevated, and perfected, till in the truest and fullest sense his life may be called complete. The one model life of humanity is revealed to us in both these aspects. I have finished the work which thou gayest me to do, is the record of him whom as the Captain of our salvation it behooved to be made perfect through sufferings. Few, indeed, of the lives of prominent men in our time can justly be styled complete in either sense. The whirl of life bears them rapidly past the scene of duty, ahuost before they have discovered it. The cares of the world, the schemes of ambition, and the claims of society, rarely leave time for thought, still less for systematic self-culture, and the man dies, as he had lived, suecessful, perhaps, in the pursuit of wealth, power, or fame, but with his proper lifes work essentially undone, and without attaining in his own character any part of the great result for which he was created. Such a life, wheth- er long or short, is substantially a failure. To such a life, however, that of PELATIAH PERIT forms a striking contrast. Few have lived so long, few so actively or so well, as he has lived in Kew England and New York for almost eighty years, and probably fewer still have been disci- plined by such varied and peculiar experience into a character of such rare, self-contained, and self-controlled, but intensely benevolent activity, by which for so many years he has adorned the community and the church.

168 Pelaticth Pent. [Jan., AnTICLE VH.PELATJAH PERIT. TJLE remark was made at the funeral of Mr. PELIT, that a human life may be complete in two distinct but co~5rdinate senses. A man may live long enough and well enough to accomplish all the various tasks assigned him by Provi- dence, and may then fitly rest from his labors, while his works do follow him. At the same time and by the operation of the same mental, moral, and physical activities and influ- ences, the mans character may be disciplined, elevated, and perfected, till in the truest and fullest sense his life may be called complete. The one model life of humanity is revealed to us in both these aspects. I have finished the work which thou gayest me to do, is the record of him whom as the Captain of our salvation it behooved to be made perfect through sufferings. Few, indeed, of the lives of prominent men in our time can justly be styled complete in either sense. The whirl of life bears them rapidly past the scene of duty, ahuost before they have discovered it. The cares of the world, the schemes of ambition, and the claims of society, rarely leave time for thought, still less for systematic self-culture, and the man dies, as he had lived, suecessful, perhaps, in the pursuit of wealth, power, or fame, but with his proper lifes work essentially undone, and without attaining in his own character any part of the great result for which he was created. Such a life, wheth- er long or short, is substantially a failure. To such a life, however, that of PELATIAH PERIT forms a striking contrast. Few have lived so long, few so actively or so well, as he has lived in Kew England and New York for almost eighty years, and probably fewer still have been disci- plined by such varied and peculiar experience into a character of such rare, self-contained, and self-controlled, but intensely benevolent activity, by which for so many years he has adorned the community and the church. 1865.] Pelatiak Pent. 169 The accurate pen of Dr. Bacon* has detailed lucidly and compactly the leading facts of Mr. PERITs life. He was born at Norwich, in 1785, and was descended from an honored iluguenot ancestry, mingled with the equally revered Puritan stock of New England. He graduated at Yale College in 1802, one year after his elder brother, John Webster Pent, who was afterwards established, as an East India merchant, in Philadelphia, where he died in 1845. He is still re- inew~bered with affectionate admiration not only there but in other cities and in distant lands. The career of PELATIAH PERIT was also wholly mercantile, and nearly all of it was in connection with the well known firm of Goodhue & Co. of New York, of which he continued a member until its final dissolution in 1863. Abont a year later his own decease took place at New Haven, March 8th, 1864. In reviewing the public and private career of one so dis- tinguished, honored, and beloved, the first thonght which strikes us is that with which we commenced. Here was a complete character and a completed life. No brilliant genius, no nnusual physical or social advantages, no sudden achieve- ment of vast wealth, no happy accident of any kind, made or helped to make him what he was. His whole career was a continuous illustration of talents well improved, of opportu- nities never wasted, of a mind and heart always in sympathy with duty, and ever growing in graceful conformity to the idea, which he faithfully pursued. Perhaps the most obvious characteristic which prcsentQd itself to the casual observer of business acquaintance, was the prompt and ready energy with which he encountered the successive tasks and events of each busy day. Not one of all human activities and interests could claim his notice in vain, or pass unheeded by him. His extreme rapidity of thought, decision, and action, an dhis habits of systematic industry, enabled him to accomplish the most multitudinous and varied tasks, and yet to find more time for the cultivation of mind and heart, than many far less burdened could have done. His fellow merchants knew how * Hunts Merchants Magszine, N. Y., April, 1864, p. 245. 170 Pelatiak Pent. [Jan., to appreciate these peculiar gifts, and after one years experi- ence of his efficiency as President of the New York Chamber of Commerce, they did not fail during nine consecutive years to re~lect him unanimously to that honorable office. where his tact, skill, gentlemanly courtesy, and quick despatch of business, were highly and universally prized. Whether presiding in their assemblies or doing the honors of their great metropolis to the Prince of Wales, and other distinguish- ed guests, the merchants of New York were always proud of Mr. PERIT as their representative. His invaluable business habits rendered him also conspic- uous in the religious world. Tn 1838 he became a corporate member of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, and in 1842 was made chairman of a committee appointed to review the expenditures and finances of the Board. The report presented by him the following year was a model of good sense and practical wisdom, as well as deeply imbued with the spirit of Christian benevolence. The same conscientiousness which led him to utilize and economize every talent to the utmost, not only kept him in disinterested and unrewarded activity, but occasionally induced him to submit to tasks and responsibilities of the most irksome character. It was not in his nature to shirk a duty or ignore an obliga- tion, and in his view duty and obligation were limited by ability alone. To lAs -power and beyond his power he was debtor, both to Greeks and barbarians, to the wise and to the unwise. Not that he would allow any conscience but his own to prescribe the measure of his duty, for in this respect he was emphatically a law unto himselg and wholly independent of extraneous influences. But what he had decided to be his duty, that he was ready to do, promptly and unsolicited yea, even if in doing it he was led, like his Divine Master, to be kind to the unthankful and the evil. The city of New York has not forgotten the ready disinterestedness with which, in the hope of cutting an almost inextricable knot of political and social animosity, he consented to accept the office of Police Commissioner, and so long as he had any hope of being useful, continued to endure the inevitable annoyances of a 1865.] Pelatiah Peril. 171 position which must have been eminently distasteful to all his habits and associations. We have endeavored to depict the impression his daily life would make upon the mere casual observer. But superficial, indeed, must that observation have been, which failed to dis- cover below the surface even of business life the signs of that wide and deep benevolence, which we hold to have been the most prominent, as it was the most attractive feature of his character. In its scope it was literally universal. 1-us charity never allowed him to speak evil of any one, and even just and necessary condemnation was measured with a cautious and gentle hand. Nil nisi bonuim, was his rule both for the dead and the living, and he was always ready to check and chasten the hasty judgments of others. Though genial he was often not demonstrativepartly, no doubt, from the burden of care and excess of mental occupation, and at length from habit. Little did those who were disappointed by his occasion- al abstraction of manner, suspect the earnestness with which, in the privacy of retirement, his pen recorded and his prayers testified his kind and loving interest in their welfare. Tn July, 1832, that awful scourge, the cholera, invaded New York. It is difficult for those who did not witness it to con- ceive the consternation which its announce ment occasioned. In a few days thousands had fled in every direction, and the influx of strangers had ceased. So wrote Mr. FEInT in a series of graphic sketches communicated early the following year to the New York Observer. We are tempted to tran- scriha aportion of them here, to illustrate the active benevo- lence and quiet Christian~heroisrn of the writer. We need not ask whether, when his business engagements were thus ab- ruptly terminated for the time, he was one of those who escaped for their lives. He does not even tell us, except by implication. On those who remained, he says, after the dispersion of the citizens, devolved the duty of providing for the suffering and perishing poor. It was manifest that from the prevailing alarm there would be difficulty in filling the ward committees, who were in person to see to the adminis- tration of the public charity, and i~iflnenced partly by this 172 Pelatiak Pent. [Jan., consideration, I took my place among the number. The re- quirement of duty seemed plain and irresistible. Life has but a certain value, and one of its purposes was to be met in the call which was now made2~ In the result I am happy to record the fact that but few who entered upon this service be- came the subjects of the pestilence. Let it be noted that this sketch was published anony2nously, and how pure seems the motive of this effort to provoke and encourage others to love and good works! Residing in the sixth ward, the section which fell very obviously to my care was Orange Street, bordering on the Five Points, and embracing one of the most deadly portions of the city. In this ward, including the hos- pital, there were in all about eleven hundred cases. It was on the morning of one of these beautiful days, that I first entered upon my tour of duty. On my way to the sec- tion assigned me, I passed a building, in the front recess of which a woman had died a day or two previous, neglected and unattended, owing to the extreme panic which prevailed. It was no time and no place to prepare for death, or seek the consolations of religion. In the first house he enters in Orange St., he finds a corpse to be interred, and a sick person to be removed. Having provided for these, he encointers a woman just seized and in great agony, administers laudanum and hands her over to a physician, arranges for the escape of another, an Irish woman, almost dead with terror, to her hus- band in the country, and pursues his walk to witness the poverty and wretchedness of nearly a hundred families, among xvhom the pestilence raged afterwards with appalling severity. The warm acknowledgments poured upon me as I passed from house to house administerin~ relief, reminded me (at least, in themisery oft hose who uttered them) of the beautiful allusion of Job to the blessing of him that was ready to perish. I believe that I have gained the lasting gratitude of some by the cup of ready made tea sent from my house, but little more in value than a cup of cold water. In the supervision of my dis- trict, I usually called once or twice a day from house to house; * The italics are ours. 1865.1 Pelatialt Pent. 173 and it would often happen, that in the course of this interval some one would be numbered among the dead or dying, who had no appearance of sickness on the preceding visit. One Sabbath day in August he mounts by an outer stair to an up- room in a rear buildino and finds a Sunday scholar from per a neighboring dwelling repeating a hymn to a dying woman who was conscious of her situation, and longing for spiritual relief. As I mentioned the name of the merciful Saviour, able and willing to receive all who would come to him; disposed to listen to the sighings of the broken and contrite spirit; her whole attention seemed arrested, and in accents so broken as to be with difficulty understood, she intimated that to feel this assurance was the absorbing desire of her heart. There was encouraging reason to suppose that she had chosen the Saviour for her refuge; and it was a relief to the general gloom of such a scene, to stand there, presenting to the trembling penitent the offers of gospel mercy. She joined with apparent earnestness in supplication to him who like as a father pitieth his chil- dren, pitieth them that fear him, for he knoweth our frame, he remembereth that we are dust. Calling again on this poor sufferer in the evening, to make the proper arrangements for the night, I found her still alive, but she expired in the course of a few hours. Such xvere some of the scenes of the fatal months of July and August. We cannot better terminate our account of this touching episode in the life of Mr. PERIT, than by quoting a portion of his own concluding remarks: The prayer is prompted b~y the retrospect, that God in his rich mercy would spare us the return of such an evil; or pre- pare us for it, if in his wisdom he has decreed that it must come. We look in vain for any visible evidence that the torrent of dissipation and levity and vice has been checked. Nor can it be perceived that the professed disciples of the Redeemer have been aroused to any adequate degree of zeal and vigor in their endeavors to reclaim the vicious, and to bring the poor and neglected classes under the influence of the Gospel; thus presenting the most acceptable offering of gratitude, and the 1T4 Pelatiak Pent. [Jan., best preventive of the return of the calamity which they dread. If the cholera should visit us again during the approach- sng summer, the question will be presented to our considera- tion, whether it is consistent with duty to abandon our posts, and fly to other places for safety.* To my mind it appears plain that to fly ensures much evil to the lower classes who re- main, without adding much to the personal safety of those who escape. To fly is to add to the producing of the epidemic, by cutting off the resources of the poor, and to deprive the suffering sick of the aid and comfort which Christian sympa- thy and kindness might administer. It is not the pleasure of the Disposer of events, that the path of duty should always be exempt from danger; and if there is a luxury in doing good, its highest enjoyment may be found in giving aid to those who are ready to perishin such a season of desertion and alarm as the past summer. New York was iiot again so visited by the destroying angel, but may we not affirm that some of the very results for which the writer looked in vain, were even then prepared, and that in those days of distress and misery were sown the seeds of the many noble charities which have done so much to redeem the moral character of our great commercial metropolis, and have called forth an array of Christian men, and an amount of Christian philanthropy, of which America may well feel proud. Who shall say how far the appeals and the unpretending but heroic example of this Christian merchant may have contribu- ted to the development of this brightest glory and ornament of New York? The extensive and varied responsibilities laid upon Mr. PERIT, caused him not only to take an interest in all questions, public and private, but to acquire the habit of forming prompt judg- ments and decisions upon them. For these he could always give a reason, but he could not waste his time or energy in re- futing those of others. Dogmatism and prolonged discussion were alike distasteful to him, but to those who were content to * The italics are ours. 1865.1 Pelatiak Pent. 175 receive a rapid and gene rally correct outline of a subject, his conversation was singularly instructive. The peculiar brevity, point, and neatness of thought and speech which characterized him, may have been an inheritance from his iluguenot ances- tors, as well as that native courtesy towards opponents, which may help to explain his singular immunity from personal at- tack in the midst of virulent party strife. His political opin- ions were freely avowed, and were sufficiently definite and strong to have provoked much hostility, if put forth in the usual style of partisanship; but in the mouth of a Christian gentleman, who could respect the rights and opinions of others while conscientiously maintaining his own, and who could do his own duty without denouncing the motives and denying the honesty of those who differed from him, they did not de- stroy their own value, as too often happens, by the reaction they created. Would that all the advocates of an essentially good cause, who have a zeal of God but not according to knowledge, could take a lesson from this true Christian pat- riot, without rebuke in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation. Mr. PERJTS mind was eminently hopeful, perhaps sanguine in its hopefulness. While passing through and sustaining his full share of overwhelming commercial calamities, with bur- dens of care and anxiety, often pressing upon him from day to day, such as few could have borne, his calm self-possession never left him, nor was one of his important daily trusts neglected. From the very beginning of our present national struggle, his heart never faltered. His support of the Government was en- tire and unhesitating, his respect and sympathy for the Presi- dent was almost enthusiastic. As a skillful merchant and banker he could not but see the folly of those financial schemes which have so fearfully aggravated our difficulties, but even in these he acquiesced, while eagerly welcoming every sign of improvement and ground of hope which was furnished by the overruling hand of Providence and the stubborn loyalty of the people. He was willing to suffer with his neighbors the loss of all things, if his country could be saved, and its great curse of slavery destroyed. His interest in the daily progress of the war, in the gradua1 176 Pelcstiah Pent. [Jan., development of events into results so utterly beyond human calculation, in the welfare, physical, moral, and religious, of our soldiers and sailors, was earnest and unwearied. Long be- fore the public sympathy had become concentrated in these quarters, as it now is, he was deeply interested in all that per- tained to seamen, and as President of the Seamens Friend So- ciety, and Seamens Savings Bank, he devoted much time and labor to their benefit. Here we see merely another aspect of the same genuine philanthropy which in 1832 prompted his kindly visits and ministrations to the haunts of poverty, dis- ease, and pestilence. His characteristic sympathy with the poor, the neglected and the suffering, led him t~ take an earnest and prominent part in the repeated movements made in New York for the starving population of Ireland. In 1817 particularly lie was foremost in this good ~work, and had the honor of receiving an affecting acknowledgment from the pen of one well known by a kindred spirit of self-denying benevolence, the venerable Maria Edgeworth. His estate at Bloomingdale adjoined that of the New York Orphan Asylum. After spending there a quiet country Sab- bath, with no hankering after the artistic or intellectual at- tractions of his city church, lie delighted to pass the early evening among his youthful neighbors, to read and pray with them, and in simple and appropriate language to tell them of the love of God and their duty to him. Every summer he arranged for them a rustic festival, where they were feasted and made happy with all that his spacious grounds and the re- sources of his family could furnish for their entertainment. We cannot close our notice of a life of such varied excel- lence, without referring more definitely to the deep source from whence its daily manifestations were derived. While still a youth at college, Mr. PEBIT was led to consecrate him- self to the service of his Creator and Redeemer. He had even proposed to devote his life to the Gospel ministry, but was prevented by failing health. The mode of his service was thus changed, but not the service itself His teniperament was not of that imaginative kind which leads to high and ec i8~35.] Pelatiak Petit. 177 centric flights of devotion, but far better than this, h elaid hold of religion as a vital principle, and incorporated it in the very inmost fibres of his being. His daily life was a sponta- neous development of Christian principle. Strict integrity, a high sense of honor, unwearied industry, the unostentatious but incessant sacrifice of personal ease, comfort, and taste to duty, the ready recognition of every legitimate call, charity which never failed, liberality which even exceeded the measure of ability, aud all this without the smallest apparent conscious- ness of superior excellencesurely here was the Christian life in rare and peculiar beauty. Whatsoevor things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, what- soever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, what- soever things are of good report, if there be auy virtue, and if there be any praise, surely they are manifested here. A piety thus developed in its relations to his fellowmen, might safely be assumed to rest on a firm and deep basis of evangelical faith. The springs which fed such a steady flow of Christian activity, could only be derived from the great perennial source of all good. Deep and devout was Mr. PEarr s daily recognition of this fact, and constant was his recourse to the divine aid by which alone he could be sustained amid the daily toils and trials of life. In the family as well as in pri- vate, his petitions ascended with beautiful catholicity to the throne of grace, not only for himself and those near him, but for the poor, the destitute, the sick, the suffering, the afflicted, the oppressed,all sorts and all conditions of men. His hab- itual attitude towards God was that of a loving and submis- sive child, never doubting, never repining, but ready at all times to say: Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him. When clouds lowered and affliction pressed heavily upon him, his prayer was that he might be sanctified by suffering; and in the sunshine of prosperity and enjoyment, his language was, What shall I render unto the Lord for all His benefits? VOL. xxiv. 12 178 President Lincolns Proclamation of [Jan., ARTICLE VIII.PRESIDENT LINCOLNS PROCLAMATION OF FREEDOM TO THE SLAVES. MILITARY events are rapidly disclosing new grounds and occa- sions for PRESIDENT LINcoLNs Act of Liberation, illustrating its necessity, and thereby affording new proofs both of its val- idity and its universal applicability to the insurgent States. The insurgent leaders themselves are, by their debates and their prospective measures, becoming, so to speak, states evidence upon this subject. The surrender of Atlanta appears to have forced a con- viction upon the Confederate Executive that the measure of arming 1/ic slaves must be seriously entertained. The revela- tions of the astounding speech of Jefferson Davis, at Macon, were deliberate and unavoidable; because nothing but a public disclosure of the desperate deficiencies of the military force of the rebellion could temper the sentiments of a slaveholdin g projects community to those in the rebel Conoress for recruit- ing from the negro population, which the message of Davis partially offered to their consideration, without expressly favor- ing or naming the Ineasure. That slaves can be made manageable soldiers and effective fighting men, when it is their own freedom which they fight to obtain, has been settled in the worlds history of war and insur- rection, even in advance of the demonstrationnow accepted as completewhich the negro regiments of the existing Union armies have, in various battles and assaults, brilliantly sup- plied. The fighting capabilities of the African were especially tested and established by the insurrectionary wars of St. Do- mingo, in the course of which the extemporized forces com- posed of this material overpowered and defeated successively, the French army, the combined armies of Spain and England, and finally the battalionsthirty thousand strongof the first consul Napoleon, aided by the presence and c~5operation of sixty vessels of war. It is related that these insurrectionary troops

178 President Lincolns Proclamation of [Jan., ARTICLE VIII.PRESIDENT LINCOLNS PROCLAMATION OF FREEDOM TO THE SLAVES. MILITARY events are rapidly disclosing new grounds and occa- sions for PRESIDENT LINcoLNs Act of Liberation, illustrating its necessity, and thereby affording new proofs both of its val- idity and its universal applicability to the insurgent States. The insurgent leaders themselves are, by their debates and their prospective measures, becoming, so to speak, states evidence upon this subject. The surrender of Atlanta appears to have forced a con- viction upon the Confederate Executive that the measure of arming 1/ic slaves must be seriously entertained. The revela- tions of the astounding speech of Jefferson Davis, at Macon, were deliberate and unavoidable; because nothing but a public disclosure of the desperate deficiencies of the military force of the rebellion could temper the sentiments of a slaveholdin g projects community to those in the rebel Conoress for recruit- ing from the negro population, which the message of Davis partially offered to their consideration, without expressly favor- ing or naming the Ineasure. That slaves can be made manageable soldiers and effective fighting men, when it is their own freedom which they fight to obtain, has been settled in the worlds history of war and insur- rection, even in advance of the demonstrationnow accepted as completewhich the negro regiments of the existing Union armies have, in various battles and assaults, brilliantly sup- plied. The fighting capabilities of the African were especially tested and established by the insurrectionary wars of St. Do- mingo, in the course of which the extemporized forces com- posed of this material overpowered and defeated successively, the French army, the combined armies of Spain and England, and finally the battalionsthirty thousand strongof the first consul Napoleon, aided by the presence and c~5operation of sixty vessels of war. It is related that these insurrectionary troops 1865.] Freedom to the Slaves. 179 threw themselves persistently and overwhelmingly upon the practiced batteries of the Europeans. Not oniy there was proven a capacity to fight, but an ability to command, as well; for that remarkal)le leaderand afterwards civil GovernorToussaint lOverture, to quote no other instance, was both a slave him- self and born of slave parents. But these prodigies of achievement by the ilaytien troops were not the product of an enthusiasm inspired in the indi- vidual soldier by the expectation of personal emancipation merely, but by the promise of nniversal and interminable free- dom for his entire congenital classfoP children, wife, brothers, and the fellows of his raceto be elevated together to the con- dition and privileges of self-regulating human beings. Such, also, is the expectation and the all inspiring motive, held ont by the Presidents Act of Liberation, to the negro regiments of the Union armies, and by them thoronghly understood and accepted. This, therefore, expresses the main purpose which the Act of the President was intended to effect, and which it certainly has effected, to wit :the appropriation and sequestration to the military force and benefit of the United States ot that vast moral poxver and social motive which the promise of freedom could alone supply to the millions of slaves in the insurgent States, andso far as social elevation to the race is concerned even to the free negroes of the Union. It is, and was intended to be an Act, which, so far as known to and trusted by the slaves, will constitute or confirm them as a military re- source for fighting materiel to the United States, and not to the IRebellion. And, although it is possible that the Executive may not have attended sufficiently to means that might be improved for acquainting the slaves, universally, with the edict of their emaucipation, yet to-day, and to-morrow, and ever after, where- ever the Rebellion meets that Proclamation it will be as a par- alysis to any military reliance upon the enslaved population. Obvious and all important as this main purpose of the Presi- dents Act is seen to have been and to be, not only has the Act itself been denounced persistently by the opponents of his ad ruin- istration, as an assumption of power not warranted by the Con- 180 Pre8ident Lincolns Proclamation of [Jan., stitutIon, but also its efficiency and its extent ,~as an authoritative measure, have been brought in question by some of those who approve, most unreservedly, the Presidents purpose. There is no hesitation manifested in the Proclamation itselg respecting this authority, nor any indefiniteness of defining it. The open- ing and the closing announcement of the Act, we quote, as fob lows, omitting the preamble Now, therefore, I, ABRAHAM LINCOLN, President of the United States, by vir- tue of the power in me vested as Commander in-Chief of the Army and Navy of the United States, in time of actual rebellion against the authority and Govern- ment of the United States, and as a fit and necessary war measure for suppress- ing said rebellion, do, on the first day of January, etc., etc And upon this Act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice, warranted by the Constitution upon military necessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind, and the gracious favor of Almighty God. The war powers thus asserted by the President, in virtue of the Constitution, by which he is created Commander-in-Chief, are none the less potent that they have slumbered in our history unfamiliar to political logicians and to the popular apprehen- sion ;neither are they the less far-reaching that military ne- cessity is a phrase heretofore but little studied, and, until of late, scarcely heard of. Its signification, however, is as old as civilized warfare. Almost a generation has gone by since that consummate statesman, John Quincy Adams, startled the slave power in its security by declaring? in the House of Representa- tives that the guarantees of the Constitution would disappear before the military necessities that might arise out of a servile insurrection or a war, even to a cession of the territory,an as- sertion which he subsequently amplified to the extent of main- taining that in such event a military commander would be competent to manumit the slaves.* This doctrine of Mr. * From the instent that your slaveholding States become the theatre of a war civil, servile, or foreign warfrom that instant the war powers of Congress ex- tend to interference with the institution of slavery in every way by which it can be interfered with, from a claim of indemnity for slaves taken or destroyed to the cession of States burdened with slavery to a foreign power.Speeck off. Q. Adams, May 26th, 1886. Again: But when the laws of war are in force, what, I ask, is one of those laws? It 1865.] Freeda,m to the Slaves. 181 Adams was novel to the nation and scarcely credible, but it was listened to without any attempt for its subversion, from that time to this, or, at least, without any attempt forcible enough to have made itself remembered. Again, this same doctrine, long before Mr. Adams brought it to notice, held a historic notoriety among the records of war in our own hemisphere. Besides the South American experience of liberation, the Haytien insurrection, before alluded to, had beeii terminated in 1793, by an Act of French Commissioners, afterwards ratified by the French National Assembly, upon no justifying ground but that of military necessity. When thus consummated, the Act remained valid against opposition, and with so great stability that a legislative French decree and the will of Napoleon, with his sixty ships and thirty thousand soldiers, could not reverse it. If~ notwithstanding these evidences, the war powers attri- buted by Mr. Adams to the military conunander appear too ex- cessive to be acquiesced in, let it be further considered that while the act of President Lincoln has long been open to the view and scrutiny of civilized nations, the statesmanship of Europe, with its ample disposition to infer invalidity and objection against the measures of this country, has taken no legal exception to the sufficiency of military necessity as the ground for the Presidents Act, but only an incredulous view of this nations ability to carry the Act into effect by suppressing the rebel- lion. All the war powers which the usages of civilized com- munities and the law of nations give to a military commander are, of course, and by emiuence, conferred by the Constitution upon the President in the article which makes him Coin- niandem-in-Chief. If a yet farther conviction is required as to the reality of the is this:That when a country is invaded, and two hostile armies are set in mar- tial array, the commanders of both armies have power to emancipate all the slaves in the invaded States. Nor is this a mere theoretic statement. Slavery was abolished in Columbia, first, by the Spanish General Morillo, and, secondly, by the American General Bolivar. It was abolished by virtue of a military com- mand given at the head of the army, and its abolition continues to be law to this day.Ibid, April, 1S42. 182 President Dncolms Proclamation of [Jan., great power in question, let the simple truth be adverted to, that the very idea and character itself of military necessity is such as must imply and confer authority, in a just war, to perform any and all acts, not inconsistent with the divine com- mands, which are required for the nations safety, and, therefore, tbr the surest and most speedy success of the war. Conse- quently its most familiar and unquestioned actsunlike the comparatively mild act of emancipationare those which, but for this necessity, natural justice would even abhor, and buman- ity deplore :the desolation of districtsthe exile of citizens the appropriation of propertythe obstruction of natural and artificial highwaysand the plowing through ranks and col- umns of living men by deadly missiles. If then slavery is either an auxiliary or a resource to the rebellion; if it obstructs the re- cruiting of our armies among an entire class of population; if it enervates our might or depresses our standing among other na- tions; and especially if it aggravates an impending liability to foreign interference, it not only may undergo, but it must under- go, the fate of exploded fortresses and of captured or sunken ships. Beyond all this it is most evident that the war power which has authority thus to grapple with slavery, is competent to reach it to the extreme extent of the military necessity itselfalthough it affect and revolutionize even the entire mass that does not show itself upon the field and stage of the war. The most subtle objec- tions to the Presidents Act are not those which attack its essential validity, but those which restrict its operation and its application. These appear in two forms. First, it is urged that the Act of Emancipation, being a war measure, must cease with other war measures when pacification comes. Second, it is represented that, while so much as has actually been done under an order based upon military necessity is valid, yet all that has remained undone until and after the necessity terminates is released from the order. Under these, or th~e like ideas, the proposition has been advanced that those slaves alone who shall have achieved their freedom, by enlistment, or by escape during the war, will be made free by the Proclamation. The first, in order, of the re- strictive views above specified, has been attributed by many per- sons to the present Secretary of Statethey so interpreting one 1865.1 Fi~eedom~ to the Slaves. 183 passage in his speech made at Auburn before the election. But the passage, as we read it, does not touch adversely the universality and permaneuce of the Presidents Act as law, but only intimates a probable transfer, when peace shall come, of the contingent legal questions and the operative effects from the military power to the civil tribunals. By way of illustra- ting the second of the two restrictive views spoken of, a paral- lel has been attempted between the Presidents Act and an order given by due authority in a city to demolish build- ings for arresting a firewhich order, except so far as actually executed, terminates with the occasion and necessity for it. This parallel, however, so far as it applies, is sufficiently met by observing that the supposed order of a Mayor cannot affect the permanent status of the subjects to which it applies, while the very essence and efficacy of the Presidents order, if it has that authority which the parallel assumes, lies in the fact that it does, of itself; change in the law the status of the whole class affected by it; just as one mans deed of land will confer upon another man a perfect and permanent title, in law, although it should not establish the new owner in actual possession. Much, also, during the late presidential canvass, was sense- lessly spoken to political assemblies respecting some prospective reversal of the Proclamation in the event that a new Admin- istration should come into power; and, on the other side, the pulpit has, upon occasion, concerned itself, just as absurdly with President Lincolns moral status, in case he should with- draw his Act. Whereas, it is clear that the Proclamation, if valid at all, could not be legally affected in that particular by the Presidents successor, or even by the President himself: or, to use the words of the latter in his reply to the committee of dis- satisfied citizens of Illinois, The Proclamation is valid or is not valid. If it is not valid it needs no retraction. If it is valid, it cannot be retracted, any more than the dead can be brought to life. Even if the dociftnent could be modified or retracted th~ Presidents determination not to do it is expressed in his late message, iii terms not hard to be understood. We come, next, to quote the liberation clause of the proclama 184 President Lincolns Proclamation of [Jan., tion, and to give, in the fewest words consistent with clearness, the chief grounds of our expectation that the Act will stand acknowledged forever in its validity, and accepted to the full extent of its own unmistakable terms and intentions And by virtue of the power and for the purpose aforesaid, I do order and declare that ALL PERSONS HERD A5 5LAYE5 within said designated States and parts of States, ARE AND HENCEFORTJI 5HALL B FREE; and that the Executive Gov- ernment of the United States, including the Military and Naval Authorities thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of such persons. This is obviously not an act of abolition changing the organ- ic law of the States affected. It does not, therefore, supersede the necessity of a constitutional amendment for compassing that essential purpose. It is simply an act of universal lib- eration. Throughout those States it constitutes the slaves free persons, on the instant, in United States Law, with a pledge that, so far and so fast as the military power re~stablishes the supremacy of that Law, they shall be made free in fact. This cannot be taken to imply that United States Law will have any validity upon this subject, or npon any other, if those States succeed in establishing their independence. Now, it is safe to affirm, respecting the validity of an Order and Declaration thus, in a time of war, put forth by the magis- trate whom the Constitution has invested with war powers, that the very lowest appreciation would recognize it as ex- tending to the utmost bound of the actual military necessity, and only to be restricted, if at all, by adjudication of the highest court of the nation. It would appear to be denied, in effect, by the highest judicial authority, that the courts can go behind the chief mao~istrates discretionary action, to pro- b nounce upon his reasons.* But even if the Court should enter- tain an inquiry into the actual military necessity, the result cannot be doubtful. ft would be, on many grounds, we think, * Whenever a statute gives a discretionary power to any person, to be exer- cised by him upon his own opinion of certain facts, it is a sound rule of construc- tion that the statute constitutes him the sole and exclusive juqge of the exist- ence of those facts. * * * It is no answer that such power may be abused, for there is no power which is not susceptible of abuse. Story, J., 12 Wheaton,, U. S. Rep. 1865.] Freedom to the Slaves. 185 an inevitable conclusion, that the necessity was even broader than the most stringent interpretation and the most uni- versal extension of the Presidents order. The following, we conceive, would of themselves be sufficient and ample grounds for such a conclusion and decision. First. It would have been futile for the President to attempt wrencl~ing from the rebellion its last desperate resourcethe arming of their able-bodied slavesby any act emancipating only those who should come within our military lines or other- wise achieve their own freedom; because it would have left to the rebellion, and in the gift of its leaders, the immensely bet- ter boon of unrestricted liberation,in addition to that provis- ion and promise of a home for the slaves which the leaders are now contemplating. We venture to hope, in passing, that the United States Congress will not leave this powerful motive ex- clusively in the hands of the Confederate Government. Second. The prime necessity of the republic in this war that of fighting mencould not be adequately met among the colored population without supplying to them the enthusiastic idea and character of soldiers fighting for LIBERTY in the large sense, rind not for mere personal freedom. The negro regi- ments in the Union armies that now dash impulsiv$y upon the lines and works of the enemy, do it as soldiers of the Republic, and with the spirit of men, whose entire race is elevated by the Proclamation to a civil position, becoming the dignity of manhood. Third. The Proclamation was also necessary to confirm the millions of slavesnatnrally and by circumstance a loyal populationin their loyalty to the United States ,to maintain them in the mass, women and men, old and young, able-bodied or decrepit alike, as separate in interest as possible, from the rebels, and as uncongenial in feeling. INot one loyal heart of the whole but is a strength to the Union in this war. Tho separation and uncongeniality are alike important in every relation. Fourth. European interventionand from En gland espe- ciallywas, at the time when the Proclamation was issued, our most anxious liability. It will hardly be disputed that noth 186 Pre8w,lcnt Lincolns Proclamation. [Jan., ing so tied the hands of an inimical aristocracynothing so evidenced to the popular heart of Europe the true attitude of the Union in this war, and so strengthened it the na- tions in its hour of utmost need, as this Proclamation. F{fth. The necessity of maintaining the Presidents Order and Proclamation, in its full amplitude, is perpetual and na- tional. Issuing from the war-power under the Constitution, it has not been disclaimed (whether that could be or could not be) by the people or by Congress. On their faith in it, the colored men have come to our armies by hundreds of thousands, and by thousands upon thousands have yielded up their lives. Foreign nations have accepted it, as well, and have incorporated its pledge of freedom with their elementary ideas of this American Republic. It is a never eeasing neces- sity that governmental powers exercised under the Uni.~ed States Constitution should be felt, the world over, to be of irresistible efficacy. Not alone for the present war, but for any crisis to come, whether near or remote, it is a necessity that the Re- public shall never set a precedent of retrogradation or vacilla~ tion in tundamental measures. It is the highest of necessities that the faith of the Republic, uow and along the ages, shall be clearly defined and stable, and that her pledges shall be always good for even their prima facie meaning. With a single comment, offered as a se4uel to all that has preceded, we take leave of this vitally important subject. The Proclamation does not apply to those slaveholding States that are not insurgent, and it expressly excepts large dis. tricts in some that are. It cannot, by its most complete exe- cution, in the insurgent States, regenerate their organic law. And although we do not apprehend that those States, when re- instated, could, if so inclined, reinslave the mass of freedmen, and although we believe that the force of elementary LAw and JUSTICE in the nation would raise an effectual barrier against it, yet all this does not meet the grand necessity and want which underlies our entire social system. The nation is not, beyond a peradventure, secure and ~sound to the core until, by express constitutional enactments, its fundamental law, over all its domain between the oceans, is the law of free- dojn. 1865.] Notice8 of New Book8. 187 ARTICLE IX.NOTJCES OF NEW BOOKS. THEOLOGICAL AND RELIGIOUS. CHRIST AND His SALVATIONAThe large number of readers of the Sermons for the New Life will welcome with the highest anti- cipations another collection of sermons from the same author. Nor will they be disappointed when they read this new volume. They will find in every discourse the same characteristics which have de- lighted them before ;the same original treatment of the theme, the same stirring and startling turns of thought, the same freshness of imagery and of style, the same boldness of practical views, the same nobleness in the ideals of the Christian life and the Christian affec- tions, the same freedom from the conventionalisms of the schools, the outworn phrases of the pulpit, and the platitudes of religious cant, which have won for Dr. Bushnells other sermons so great favor, and so warm and general admiration. The inequalities of the~ uthors gifts and genius are fully illustra- ted in this volume. If there are as many splendid passages as usual, which remind us of the eagle in the majesty and grace of his soar- ing and audacious flight, perhaps there are no fewer, which cause us to think of the same daring bird, when with creaking pinions and unwieldy movements, he laboriously lifts himself from the earth. Some of the theological views expressed in a few of these sermons will be likely to attract attention. They may awaken misgivings and perhaps elicit unfavorable criticism. The opinions that are more than intimated in respect to the import of the death of our Lord would of themselves excite questionings in many minds. They will be regarded still more seriously if viewed as the foreshad- owings of what we are to expect in the promised volume on The Vicarious Sacrifice. The nineteenth sermon, Christ bearing the Sins of Transgressors, will be likely to give great offense to some and occasion serious disappointment to others. In this sermon * Christ and His Salvatioa; in sermons variously related thereto. By HORACE BUSHNELL. New York: Charles Seribner. 186{. l2mo. pp. 456. [New haven: Judd & White. Price $2.]

1865.] Notice8 of New Book8. 187 ARTICLE IX.NOTJCES OF NEW BOOKS. THEOLOGICAL AND RELIGIOUS. CHRIST AND His SALVATIONAThe large number of readers of the Sermons for the New Life will welcome with the highest anti- cipations another collection of sermons from the same author. Nor will they be disappointed when they read this new volume. They will find in every discourse the same characteristics which have de- lighted them before ;the same original treatment of the theme, the same stirring and startling turns of thought, the same freshness of imagery and of style, the same boldness of practical views, the same nobleness in the ideals of the Christian life and the Christian affec- tions, the same freedom from the conventionalisms of the schools, the outworn phrases of the pulpit, and the platitudes of religious cant, which have won for Dr. Bushnells other sermons so great favor, and so warm and general admiration. The inequalities of the~ uthors gifts and genius are fully illustra- ted in this volume. If there are as many splendid passages as usual, which remind us of the eagle in the majesty and grace of his soar- ing and audacious flight, perhaps there are no fewer, which cause us to think of the same daring bird, when with creaking pinions and unwieldy movements, he laboriously lifts himself from the earth. Some of the theological views expressed in a few of these sermons will be likely to attract attention. They may awaken misgivings and perhaps elicit unfavorable criticism. The opinions that are more than intimated in respect to the import of the death of our Lord would of themselves excite questionings in many minds. They will be regarded still more seriously if viewed as the foreshad- owings of what we are to expect in the promised volume on The Vicarious Sacrifice. The nineteenth sermon, Christ bearing the Sins of Transgressors, will be likely to give great offense to some and occasion serious disappointment to others. In this sermon * Christ and His Salvatioa; in sermons variously related thereto. By HORACE BUSHNELL. New York: Charles Seribner. 186{. l2mo. pp. 456. [New haven: Judd & White. Price $2.]

1865.] Notice8 of New Book8. 187 ARTICLE IX.NOTJCES OF NEW BOOKS. THEOLOGICAL AND RELIGIOUS. CHRIST AND His SALVATIONAThe large number of readers of the Sermons for the New Life will welcome with the highest anti- cipations another collection of sermons from the same author. Nor will they be disappointed when they read this new volume. They will find in every discourse the same characteristics which have de- lighted them before ;the same original treatment of the theme, the same stirring and startling turns of thought, the same freshness of imagery and of style, the same boldness of practical views, the same nobleness in the ideals of the Christian life and the Christian affec- tions, the same freedom from the conventionalisms of the schools, the outworn phrases of the pulpit, and the platitudes of religious cant, which have won for Dr. Bushnells other sermons so great favor, and so warm and general admiration. The inequalities of the~ uthors gifts and genius are fully illustra- ted in this volume. If there are as many splendid passages as usual, which remind us of the eagle in the majesty and grace of his soar- ing and audacious flight, perhaps there are no fewer, which cause us to think of the same daring bird, when with creaking pinions and unwieldy movements, he laboriously lifts himself from the earth. Some of the theological views expressed in a few of these sermons will be likely to attract attention. They may awaken misgivings and perhaps elicit unfavorable criticism. The opinions that are more than intimated in respect to the import of the death of our Lord would of themselves excite questionings in many minds. They will be regarded still more seriously if viewed as the foreshad- owings of what we are to expect in the promised volume on The Vicarious Sacrifice. The nineteenth sermon, Christ bearing the Sins of Transgressors, will be likely to give great offense to some and occasion serious disappointment to others. In this sermon * Christ and His Salvatioa; in sermons variously related thereto. By HORACE BUSHNELL. New York: Charles Seribner. 186{. l2mo. pp. 456. [New haven: Judd & White. Price $2.] 188 Notices of New Books. [Jan., the three theories of the atonement, most generally received, are set aside in as many brief arguments, after which the attempt is made to give a positive statement of what the scriptural account of the matter warrants us to believe. Of the many who will ac- cept as truly and forcibly stated, all that the author asserts in the form of positive statements ;of some who will agree with him that the developments of the true theory of the work of Christ should commence with the consideration of these aspects of it which Dr. Bushnell enforces ;there are many who will not fail to ask whether these exhaust its import. Let it be granted that Christ bears the sin of the world, by that assumption which his love must needs make of itin the forms of loss, danger, present suf- fering, suffering to be,-- that he is incarnated into the state of sin, including all the corporate woes of penalty or natural retribu- tion under it,and that he bears, consentingly, the direct attacks of wrong, or sin upon his person; and still it nay be asked whether this is all; whether, in what Christ does and suffers in order to re- deem, nay in the very acts of incarnation and of death, when these are preached and accepted as the ground and medium of pardon, it may not be true that Gods regard for holiness is as truly manifest- ed and enforced, as when he punishes the unrepenting. It may also be asked whether the positive statements of the scriptures do not require us to believe this, and whether any satisfactory interpreta- tion of their import can be reached without such a construction; and whether, what is last revealed was not foremost in the plan of God. The first of these questions the author does not satis- factorily meet in this sermon. In other sermons we are happy to say that he raises the question directly, and answers it satisfacto- rily. For example, on page 366, he writes: Something may be necessary on his [Gods] part, to save an appearance of laxity, when he forgivessome kind of honor paid to the instituted order of justice, that will keep it in as high respect as the exact execu- tion of it. Christ will see to that. I cannot here describe the provision he has made; enough, that when he remits the penal- ties of justice, in his moral distributions, he shows most convinc- ingly still, that he adheres to justice in his feeling as firmly as ever. Again, he says on page 251: God certainly did not want it as wanting to get so much sufferingput of somebody. He does not exact a retributive suffering, even in what is called justice, because he wants so much in quantity to even the account of 1865.1 Notiee8 of New Book8. 189 wrong, but only that he may indicate the right and testify his honor to it by a fit expression. What more exact statement of the New England theory of the atonement could its most earnest advocate desire? And yet Dr. Bushnell has spent a great deal of elaborate pains-taking, and it may be, will expend a great deal more in time to come, to show that this is a theory which he can- not accept. Dr. Bushnells very unfortunate position in respect to systematic thinking in theology is illustrated in this volume. When he wishes to expose the absurdity of other mens thinking, he applies to their opinions with the utmost rigor all the criteria which the most merciless and bigoted systematizer could possibly enforce, viz: the criterion of consistency of each part with every other, and with the whole. For himself he seeks exemption from these very obligations which he enforces upon others, by pleading that he does not believe in systems, or notional definitions, and hence is not to be judged or held by them. He will not put A and B together, and qualify the one by the other, as common men do, but when he says A, he insists no B is to be thought of. And yet, he is too good a Christian, and, in his inmost convictions, too true to the scriptures and the faith of the church, not to have said B many times in some other connections, though it costs his friends at times not a little trouble to hunt np the passages for him, and by dint of patching, to clothe him up with some nnconth and badly fitting tailor-work of a creed, that will fit him to pass muster with common Christian people. We hope that he will not put them to any more trouble of this sort by his forthcoming volume on the Vicarious Sacrifice. We are quite sure he cannot fail to invest this greatest of all themes with a new interest. There are aspects and relations of it, to which the creed-makers and the platitudinarians of the church have lot allowed their due importance, which we are certain he will illustrate and enforce with no feeble effect. But we hope he ~vill not forget to place in proper relief those other grand and central relations of the work of Christ, which he has so often ac- knowledged,and will not by mere defect and oversight exhibit but the half of the truth, out of zeal to combat some outworn scholastic theory, that is but the shriveled husk of a choice kernel of gospel doctrine. 190 Notices of New Books. [Jan., APOLOGIA PRO VITA SITA,* AND BROKEN LIGHTs.fWe have placed the titles of these two volumes together, because though they are so far unlike one another as to seem to represent opposite poles of error, they deserve to be considered as equally the effects of a common cause, or rather as the two extremes which are an- tagonistic outworkings of a common defect. At the first aspect no two volumes could seem to be more op- posed in their origin and in their influence. The autobiography, or rather the confessions of Father Newman, is in its most ob- vious and external form a vindication of himself and the Romish communion, which was made necessary by sundry wanton and ill-advised attacks upon both, by that well-meaning but rollicking clerical bully, who has more genius than discretion, the Rev. Charles Kingsley. This gentleman had said in his haste, not ex- actly in the sense, nor with the earnestness of the Psalmist, not all men are liars, nor all Romish priests are liars, but the entire Romish Church are liars on principle, and particularly the Rev. John H. Newman has defended lying in his discourses and other writings. To this rather unguarded challenge, Mr. Newman retorts with the brief and proper inquiries, When Y and Where Y The Rev. Mr. Kingsley undertakes to point out the time and the place, but fails most manifestly in the eyes of all men, and especially of all Englishmen, who, much as they like a pugi- listic contest, and much as they dislike the Romish priesthood, have still some lingering regard to the rules of fair play. Mr. Kingsley perceiving that he is worsted and must make an apology, forgets the rules, if not of muscular Christianity at least of ordi- nary Christianity,both of which requiring, the first a manly, and the second an honest recantation of a slanderous wrong. He tries to get off with a sneaking amende, which is all the more sneaking because it assumes to be so very English and so very manly. With this Dr. Newman is of course entirely malcontent. He in turn begins to square himself for a contest, and prepares to deal out his blows to the right and left, in logical fence. * Apologia pro Vita Sua: Being a reply to a pamphlet entitled What, then, does Dr. Newman mean ? By JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, D. D. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1865. l2mo. pp. 893. [New Haven: H. C. Peck, $2.] j Broken Lights: An inquiry into the present condition and future prospects of Religious Faith. By FRANCES POWER COBBE. Boston: J. E. Tilton & Co. iSmo. pp. 242. [New haven: H. C. Peck.]

190 Notices of New Books. [Jan., APOLOGIA PRO VITA SITA,* AND BROKEN LIGHTs.fWe have placed the titles of these two volumes together, because though they are so far unlike one another as to seem to represent opposite poles of error, they deserve to be considered as equally the effects of a common cause, or rather as the two extremes which are an- tagonistic outworkings of a common defect. At the first aspect no two volumes could seem to be more op- posed in their origin and in their influence. The autobiography, or rather the confessions of Father Newman, is in its most ob- vious and external form a vindication of himself and the Romish communion, which was made necessary by sundry wanton and ill-advised attacks upon both, by that well-meaning but rollicking clerical bully, who has more genius than discretion, the Rev. Charles Kingsley. This gentleman had said in his haste, not ex- actly in the sense, nor with the earnestness of the Psalmist, not all men are liars, nor all Romish priests are liars, but the entire Romish Church are liars on principle, and particularly the Rev. John H. Newman has defended lying in his discourses and other writings. To this rather unguarded challenge, Mr. Newman retorts with the brief and proper inquiries, When Y and Where Y The Rev. Mr. Kingsley undertakes to point out the time and the place, but fails most manifestly in the eyes of all men, and especially of all Englishmen, who, much as they like a pugi- listic contest, and much as they dislike the Romish priesthood, have still some lingering regard to the rules of fair play. Mr. Kingsley perceiving that he is worsted and must make an apology, forgets the rules, if not of muscular Christianity at least of ordi- nary Christianity,both of which requiring, the first a manly, and the second an honest recantation of a slanderous wrong. He tries to get off with a sneaking amende, which is all the more sneaking because it assumes to be so very English and so very manly. With this Dr. Newman is of course entirely malcontent. He in turn begins to square himself for a contest, and prepares to deal out his blows to the right and left, in logical fence. * Apologia pro Vita Sua: Being a reply to a pamphlet entitled What, then, does Dr. Newman mean ? By JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, D. D. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1865. l2mo. pp. 893. [New Haven: H. C. Peck, $2.] j Broken Lights: An inquiry into the present condition and future prospects of Religious Faith. By FRANCES POWER COBBE. Boston: J. E. Tilton & Co. iSmo. pp. 242. [New haven: H. C. Peck.]

190 Notices of New Books. [Jan., APOLOGIA PRO VITA SITA,* AND BROKEN LIGHTs.fWe have placed the titles of these two volumes together, because though they are so far unlike one another as to seem to represent opposite poles of error, they deserve to be considered as equally the effects of a common cause, or rather as the two extremes which are an- tagonistic outworkings of a common defect. At the first aspect no two volumes could seem to be more op- posed in their origin and in their influence. The autobiography, or rather the confessions of Father Newman, is in its most ob- vious and external form a vindication of himself and the Romish communion, which was made necessary by sundry wanton and ill-advised attacks upon both, by that well-meaning but rollicking clerical bully, who has more genius than discretion, the Rev. Charles Kingsley. This gentleman had said in his haste, not ex- actly in the sense, nor with the earnestness of the Psalmist, not all men are liars, nor all Romish priests are liars, but the entire Romish Church are liars on principle, and particularly the Rev. John H. Newman has defended lying in his discourses and other writings. To this rather unguarded challenge, Mr. Newman retorts with the brief and proper inquiries, When Y and Where Y The Rev. Mr. Kingsley undertakes to point out the time and the place, but fails most manifestly in the eyes of all men, and especially of all Englishmen, who, much as they like a pugi- listic contest, and much as they dislike the Romish priesthood, have still some lingering regard to the rules of fair play. Mr. Kingsley perceiving that he is worsted and must make an apology, forgets the rules, if not of muscular Christianity at least of ordi- nary Christianity,both of which requiring, the first a manly, and the second an honest recantation of a slanderous wrong. He tries to get off with a sneaking amende, which is all the more sneaking because it assumes to be so very English and so very manly. With this Dr. Newman is of course entirely malcontent. He in turn begins to square himself for a contest, and prepares to deal out his blows to the right and left, in logical fence. * Apologia pro Vita Sua: Being a reply to a pamphlet entitled What, then, does Dr. Newman mean ? By JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, D. D. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1865. l2mo. pp. 893. [New Haven: H. C. Peck, $2.] j Broken Lights: An inquiry into the present condition and future prospects of Religious Faith. By FRANCES POWER COBBE. Boston: J. E. Tilton & Co. iSmo. pp. 242. [New haven: H. C. Peck.] 1Sf35.] Notices of New Books. 191 The priestly gown half slips from his shoulders. Out of that artificial mask which thirty years of ascetic sanctimony and ar- tificial pietism have been setting upon his features, there gleams for a moment the honest expression of the indignant Englishman; when all of a sudden the ecclesiastic suddenly recollects and re- covers himself, the gown and cowl are readjusted, and the face is fixed again to its half monkish, half-saintly expression. Father Newman is himself again, and concludes that it will be expedient to take this occasion to write his autobiographyhis reverend brothers of St. Philip, the priests of the Birmingham Oratory, having doubtless considered that as he has obtained the ear of the English schism a second time, it would be a sin against the Holy Church not to improve the occasion to utter a new argument for Catholicity in the Romish sense. The result is the Apologia, which is not only one of the most deeply interesting volumes of the season, but which will remain a work of permanent value as a record of the history of the English church for the present cen- tury~ When this history shall be written, the books which the future historian will regard with especial prominence will be the Tracts for the Times, ilurrell Froudes Remains, The Life of Dr. Arnold, The Essays and Reviews, and Father New- mans Apologia. The interest of this book is expressed in a word. It depicts and explains the beginnings and the grounds of the An- glo-Catholic movement, as well as illustrates some of its tendencies and its results. BROKEN LIGHTs is a book of quite another origin and char- acter. It is written by an English disciple of Theodore Parker not deficient in original power of conception and in earnestness and fervor of feeling, having at command an eloquent Eng1isl~ style. This author has been previously known by an essay on In- tuitive Morals, a work of more than ordinary interest and value, not only for its consistent and eloquent enforcements of the prin- ciples of Kants Ethics, but for the insidious attack upon the Christian system which it covertly maintains. This author is a wo- man, and it is not a little remarkable that three of the ablest anti- christian writers in England, now living, belong to the softer sex. There is a kind of poetic justice in this. For if the clergy and the university leaders, instead of defending the faith like men, have sought to bolster and cocker it by arts appropriate to women, in all the manifold varieties of ecclesiastical millinery, it is no matter of 192 Notices of New Books. [Jan., wonder that women of sense and spirit have believed that even they could attack it with success. The work of Miss Cobbe is written with great earnesthess and energy. It states what the writer conceives to be the present wan- ing condition of religions faith in England. It then surveys the position of the two great parties within the church, which seek to save and defend it, the Historical and Rational, or the Pal~ologian, and the iNeologian. Each of these, in her view, is sub-divided into two subordinate sections, the first into the high and Low Chu~ch, the second into the first and second Broad Churches. After con- sidering these, their ill success and unfortunate predicament, she devotes another chapter to the parties outside the church. After pronouncing that they also have failed, she proceeds to develop what she believes to he the only remedy, the rise of a great school of sound theoretical and earnest practical Theism. The Theoretic Theism must be erected on certain fundamental intuitionsthe absolute goodness of God, the final salvation of every created soul, and the divine authority of conscience. This Theism will of course reject with abhorrence every form of Atheism and Pan- theism. The Practical Theism must believe in and practice pray- er, repentance for sin, and an earnest humanity. This double form of Theism is to save all the good which Christianity embodies, and to out-grow and leave behind its defects and its errors. But with all the strength and earnestness of this book, its argument labors under one capital defect. It does not appreciate where the great strength of Christianity lies, and of course fails to see whence the great argument for its truth is to be derived. The power and necessity of Christ as a person to vivify and enforce religious and ethici~l principles of every sort, it does not apprehend, and of course a mythical, a legendary, or a human Christ, is just as good for the purposes which it recognizes as any other. But how could it ever happen that Christianity should be so sadly misconceived in England, and of course so feebly defended. The answer is obvious. It is because the culture of theology as a science, or in other words, of a rational, a learned, a free and pro- gressive Theology, has been systematically neglected .in England for nearly two centuries. This brings us back to our first thought. The views of Christianity, both theoretical and practical, which are so distinctly portrayed in the life of Dr. Newman, are the only sufficient explanation of such a reaction as is personated by the author of Broken Lights. 1865.] Notices of Hew Books. 193 It is not to be forgotten that the movement in the Church of England which Froude and Newman initiated was designed to oppose the so-called Liberalism of the times, and preeminently that which in Theology was denounced as Rationalism. Against this, thdse who should have contended with the heart and the weapons of men, earnestly but impotently strove by silly appeals to the traditions of the past, coupled with whining protests against the living demands of the present. Reasoning they would not employ, learning they would not liberalize and adapt to present necessities, but with a weakness that would be pardonable in wo- men, but was contemptible in men, they invoked the spirit of Laud the martyr, and instead of defending the Christianity of John and of Paul, they preached the Christianity of sacramental grace and of priestly absolution. That such a resistance to Rationalism should have provoked a bolder and more confident onset was to be expected. Christianity cannot be successfully defended when Christianity is grossly mis- representedfor she cannot be defended at all except as she mani- fests the truth to every man~ s conscience in the sight of God. It is in the relation suggested by this thought that these two volumes may properly and profitably be connected. When thus considered they furnish a significant comment upon the consequences of neg- lecting and a powerful argument for the cultivation of a vigorous yet rational Christian theology. Without such a theology the reviving of religious earnestness under the Wesleys and Whitfield did not bring forth the fruit which might reasonably have been looked for. Under the miserable traditionalism of the Church of England the earnestness of Wilberforce, the father, for lack of a manly theology to feed and direct the intellect of his sons, drove one to Rome, while from the same goal, the Bishop of Oxford, the other, was scarcely detained. While John 11. N~wman, the one brother, is reluctantly carried to the feet of the Bishop of Rome, by the movement towards Catholicity, which his own irrational fright, at Liberalism did so much to originate, Francis Newman, the other brother, rushes into the arms of that extremest Rationalism which abjures Christ in the name of the most sacred instincts which Christ alone has aroused into distinct consciousness, and which Christ alone can satisfy. Oh! it is mournful, though in it we see a divine Neme- sis, to observe how the noble Church of England has been so fear voL. xxiv. 13 194 Notices of New Books. [Jan., fully revenged upon by the Reason which she has sought to cast out of her universities and her ecclesiastical seats, and to observe how, at this very moment, it is by feeble and ill-directed efforts that she seeks to defend the faith on which she lives. We in this country may take this serious lesson to heart. Our great religious denominations are, at this moment, seeking to be come stronger by organization, by compromises, by dogmatism, by denunciation, sometimes by mystic and cloudy phraseology, by any and every expedient except by a learned, a devout, and enlight- ened, and therefore a progressive and truly catholic theology. If the old and new schools of the Presbyterian church unite by any surrender of the freedom to reason, to think, and to utter what the new forms of knowledge and of thought demand, then they may expect to hear more than one shout of triumph over their discomfiture on the part of some American writer of Broken Lights. If the Congregational churches, in their zeal for expansion and a vain idolatry of a mere form of polity, sur- render the traditional freedom to think, which has ever been the watchword of the New England theology, or the confidence in the power of the Word which has been its strength, then the glory of this theology will have departed, and the power, the energy, and the value of Congr egationalism itself will be sacrificed to an ecclesiastical phantom no better than the others which have cursed Christianity. The prophecy has ever proved true in the history of the Church of every organization which has been made an end, and not a means ; The kingdom of God shall be taken from you, and given to a nation bringing forth the fruits thereof. SERMoNs BY JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE.*~~~Everything which James Freeman Clarke writes is worth reading and ponder- ing. Therefore we welcome the volume of Sermons which has been issued but recently, and the Essay on Prayer, which, though first published in 1854, has, in its third edition of 1859, but just come to our notice. The Sermons are intensely practical, not exclusive at all of the duties of the heart, but devoted to the illustration of the applica * The Hour Which Gometh and Now Is. Sermons preached in Jndiana Place Chapel, Boston. By JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. Boston: Walker, Wise & Co. 1864. l2mo. pp. 348. [New Haven: II. C. Peck.]

194 Notices of New Books. [Jan., fully revenged upon by the Reason which she has sought to cast out of her universities and her ecclesiastical seats, and to observe how, at this very moment, it is by feeble and ill-directed efforts that she seeks to defend the faith on which she lives. We in this country may take this serious lesson to heart. Our great religious denominations are, at this moment, seeking to be come stronger by organization, by compromises, by dogmatism, by denunciation, sometimes by mystic and cloudy phraseology, by any and every expedient except by a learned, a devout, and enlight- ened, and therefore a progressive and truly catholic theology. If the old and new schools of the Presbyterian church unite by any surrender of the freedom to reason, to think, and to utter what the new forms of knowledge and of thought demand, then they may expect to hear more than one shout of triumph over their discomfiture on the part of some American writer of Broken Lights. If the Congregational churches, in their zeal for expansion and a vain idolatry of a mere form of polity, sur- render the traditional freedom to think, which has ever been the watchword of the New England theology, or the confidence in the power of the Word which has been its strength, then the glory of this theology will have departed, and the power, the energy, and the value of Congr egationalism itself will be sacrificed to an ecclesiastical phantom no better than the others which have cursed Christianity. The prophecy has ever proved true in the history of the Church of every organization which has been made an end, and not a means ; The kingdom of God shall be taken from you, and given to a nation bringing forth the fruits thereof. SERMoNs BY JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE.*~~~Everything which James Freeman Clarke writes is worth reading and ponder- ing. Therefore we welcome the volume of Sermons which has been issued but recently, and the Essay on Prayer, which, though first published in 1854, has, in its third edition of 1859, but just come to our notice. The Sermons are intensely practical, not exclusive at all of the duties of the heart, but devoted to the illustration of the applica * The Hour Which Gometh and Now Is. Sermons preached in Jndiana Place Chapel, Boston. By JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. Boston: Walker, Wise & Co. 1864. l2mo. pp. 348. [New Haven: II. C. Peck.] 1866.] No& ce8 of New Book8. 195 tions of Christianity ill the way of duty rather than to the discus- sion of what Christianity is in its facts and truths. They are written in a very familiar strain, the illustrations being drawn from a great variety of sources, and all the teachings being brought home to the comprehension of the simplest understanding. But there is no lack of freshness of thought, and there is noth- ing either in matter or form which is trivial, mean, or undignified. The raciness of manner and the vivacity of the illustrations are ob- vious on every page. THE DOCTRINE OF PRAYER,* though adopted as one of the standard publications of the American Unitarian Association, has very little that is positively Unitarian in its teachings, and coincides in its subjective views of prayer very closely with the teachings generally received by evangelical believers. The treatment of the subject is eminently satisfactory in respect to the most impcrtant aspects of this doctrine, and controverts with great force and pertinency. those views which many Unitarians have been supposed to hold very earnestly. It is quite obvious that Mr. Clarke does not hold these opinions. There is one serious defect, that he no- where asserts that prayer is offered on the ground of what Christ has done and suffered. And yet so nearly does Mr. Clarke come to the adoption and expression of the universal sentiments of the Christian heart, even in this particular, that we wonder he does not go a single step farther and find himself at one with the believing church in its theoretical acknowledgment, as well as its practical worship of the Son. In both these volumes there are sides of the truth, as well as illustrations of its import, which orthodox Christians might con- sider with profit. RELIGION AND CIIEMIsmY.tThese Lectures of Professor Cooke form the third series of the lectures which have been pub ~ The Christian Doctrine of Prayer. An Essay. By JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. Third edition. Boston: Walker, Wise & Co. 1859. l6mo. pp. 813. [New Haven: H. C. Peck.] j Religion and Chemistry: or, Proofs of Gods Plan in the Atmosphere and its Elements. Ten Lectures, delivered at the Brool~lyn Institute, Brooklyn, N. Y., on the Graham Foundation. By JosIAR P. COOKE, JR., Erving Professor of Chem- istry and Mineralogy in Harvard University. New York: Charles Seribner. 1864. 8vo. pp. 348. [New Haven: Judd & White. Price $3.50.]

1866.] No& ce8 of New Book8. 195 tions of Christianity ill the way of duty rather than to the discus- sion of what Christianity is in its facts and truths. They are written in a very familiar strain, the illustrations being drawn from a great variety of sources, and all the teachings being brought home to the comprehension of the simplest understanding. But there is no lack of freshness of thought, and there is noth- ing either in matter or form which is trivial, mean, or undignified. The raciness of manner and the vivacity of the illustrations are ob- vious on every page. THE DOCTRINE OF PRAYER,* though adopted as one of the standard publications of the American Unitarian Association, has very little that is positively Unitarian in its teachings, and coincides in its subjective views of prayer very closely with the teachings generally received by evangelical believers. The treatment of the subject is eminently satisfactory in respect to the most impcrtant aspects of this doctrine, and controverts with great force and pertinency. those views which many Unitarians have been supposed to hold very earnestly. It is quite obvious that Mr. Clarke does not hold these opinions. There is one serious defect, that he no- where asserts that prayer is offered on the ground of what Christ has done and suffered. And yet so nearly does Mr. Clarke come to the adoption and expression of the universal sentiments of the Christian heart, even in this particular, that we wonder he does not go a single step farther and find himself at one with the believing church in its theoretical acknowledgment, as well as its practical worship of the Son. In both these volumes there are sides of the truth, as well as illustrations of its import, which orthodox Christians might con- sider with profit. RELIGION AND CIIEMIsmY.tThese Lectures of Professor Cooke form the third series of the lectures which have been pub ~ The Christian Doctrine of Prayer. An Essay. By JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. Third edition. Boston: Walker, Wise & Co. 1859. l6mo. pp. 813. [New Haven: H. C. Peck.] j Religion and Chemistry: or, Proofs of Gods Plan in the Atmosphere and its Elements. Ten Lectures, delivered at the Brool~lyn Institute, Brooklyn, N. Y., on the Graham Foundation. By JosIAR P. COOKE, JR., Erving Professor of Chem- istry and Mineralogy in Harvard University. New York: Charles Seribner. 1864. 8vo. pp. 348. [New Haven: Judd & White. Price $3.50.]

1866.] No& ce8 of New Book8. 195 tions of Christianity ill the way of duty rather than to the discus- sion of what Christianity is in its facts and truths. They are written in a very familiar strain, the illustrations being drawn from a great variety of sources, and all the teachings being brought home to the comprehension of the simplest understanding. But there is no lack of freshness of thought, and there is noth- ing either in matter or form which is trivial, mean, or undignified. The raciness of manner and the vivacity of the illustrations are ob- vious on every page. THE DOCTRINE OF PRAYER,* though adopted as one of the standard publications of the American Unitarian Association, has very little that is positively Unitarian in its teachings, and coincides in its subjective views of prayer very closely with the teachings generally received by evangelical believers. The treatment of the subject is eminently satisfactory in respect to the most impcrtant aspects of this doctrine, and controverts with great force and pertinency. those views which many Unitarians have been supposed to hold very earnestly. It is quite obvious that Mr. Clarke does not hold these opinions. There is one serious defect, that he no- where asserts that prayer is offered on the ground of what Christ has done and suffered. And yet so nearly does Mr. Clarke come to the adoption and expression of the universal sentiments of the Christian heart, even in this particular, that we wonder he does not go a single step farther and find himself at one with the believing church in its theoretical acknowledgment, as well as its practical worship of the Son. In both these volumes there are sides of the truth, as well as illustrations of its import, which orthodox Christians might con- sider with profit. RELIGION AND CIIEMIsmY.tThese Lectures of Professor Cooke form the third series of