NEW ENGLANDER AND YALE REVIEW. No. CCXX. JULY, 1888. ARTICLE 1.THE ECONOMICS OF SPECULATION. To speculate is American. in no other country is specula~ tion carried to such an extent as in ours. The sum total of our speculative trade presses close upon the aggregate of our national wealth. The practice of speculation is well nigh universal. We have professional speculators and amateur speculators. We speculate in produce, we speculate in land. We speculate in manufactures, in railways, in mines, in stocks and bonds, in gold, in iron, in live stock. We speculate in anything and everything. The rich speculate and tile pOOr speculate. Saints speculate and sinners speculate. Not only bankers and brokers, but merchants, mechanics, lawyers, doe. tors, legislators, ministers of the Gospel, dry goods clerks, newsboys, and bootblacks, endeavor to multiply their legiti- mate earnings by some form of speculation. Even ladies who must earn their own livelihood are trying their skill in the way of speculation; and many a sung little fortune has been accumulated by the keen speculating instinct of women. VOL. XIII. 1 2 Econolnic8 of Speculation. [July, Of course the entire amount of the speculative trade throughout the country cannot be accurately estimated; for its methods and forms are too complex to be easily traced. But a glance at the work of some of the principal centers of speculation is sufficient to show how enormously dispropor- tionate is this element in our national commerce. The trans- actions of the Chicago Board of Trade amount to more than three billions of dollars in a single year; of which more than seven-eighths are purely speculative. The speculative trades of the various Exchanges in New York are estimated at from four to five billions annually. These sums are however small in comparison with the deals of the Stock Exchange. Several years ago it was estimated that the par value of the annual sales in the New York Stock Exchange exceeds twenty- two billion dollars. The entire wealth of the country in 1880 was less than forty-four billion dollars, or less than double the sum involved in the transactions of this single Exchange. The smaller cities have their Boards of Trade which do a business corresponding with their size and importance. The transactions of the Stock Exchange are repeated with small amounts in almost every brokers office in the land. In every community we find men trying to imitate with their limited resources the movements of the Bulls and Bears of Wall Street. These minor enterprises taken separately appear insig- nificant in comparison with the traffic at the great centres of speculation; but the vast number of them taken together gives an aggregate which is by no means trifling. It needs no argument to prove that this speculative element in our commerce, involving as it does such immense sums of money and extending so widely through all classes of society, exerts a controlling influence for the quickening or depression of trade, and becomes an important factor in the distribution of wealth. Plainly the economic effect of so much specula- tion must be either very good or very bad; but whether it is good or whether it is bad is not so plain. Opinions differ very widely upon the subject. One class of economists declares that Speculation is the soul of trade. Another class with equal confidence asserts that speculation is subversive of the interests of legitimate trade. A financial panic sweeps over 1888.] Lconwnics of ASpeculcttion. 3 the land and many voices are heard denouncing speculators as the cause of the trouble. Other voices as many and as loud defend speculation and find the cause of the disturbance else- where. Yet in their disagreement all are agreed on one point. Every voice, whether raised in denunciation or defence, testi- fies to the extent of speculation and its important influence in every commercial movement. In these days of economic study and social agitation, when so much is said about the causes and cure of poverty, the unequal distribution of wealth, and kindred subjects, we naturally turn to the question of speculation expecting to find in it the key by which some of these other questions may be solved. In his work on Progress and Poverty Mr. George says: Production and consumption fail to meet and satisfy each other. How does this inability arise It is evidently and by common consent the result of speculation. But of specula- tion in what? Certainly not of speculation in things which are the products of labor,in agricultural or mineral produc- tions, or nianufactured goods; for the effect of speculation in such things, as is well shown in current treatises which spare me the necessity of illustration, is simply to equalize supply and demand, and to steady the interplay of production and consumption by an action analogous to that of a fly wheel in a machine. Therefore if speculation be the cause of these in- dustrial depressions, it must be speculation in things not the production of labor, but yet necessary to the exertion of labor in the production of wealthof things of fixed quantity; that is to say, it must be speculation in land. This is the way in which the founder of the great Anti- Poverty Society disposes of the question of speculation and makes it pay tribute to his pet theory. His conclusion is at once illogical in itself and wholly inconsistent with observed facts. Speculation is speculation, wherever it appears, and its nature and effects are everywhere the same. The most casual study shows us that speculation in land is a mere peccadillo when compared with the other forms of speculation carried on in America. Moreover, even at the risk of seeming to con- tradict (for as we shall see later the contradiction is only apparent) that somewhat uncertain authority expressed in the 4 Economics of Speculation. [July, general title current treatises, we assert that no form of speculation tends to equalize supply and demand, or to steady the interplay of production and consumption. Very far from it. The wkole tendency of speculation in anytking is to dis- turb the equilibrium of trade, to hinder legitimate exchange, and to increase the inequality in the distribution of wealth. In our great metropolis we see grinding poverty and fabu- lous wealth walk side by side. In the tenements and attics are huddled together multitudes of poor workers of every sort struggling night and day against starvation, not a few of them driven to lives of sin or a suicides death by the powers of despair. Close by them on the grand avenues we may meet men whose fortunes are almost incredible. The Vanderbilt property exceeds two hundred millions of dollars, and Jay Gould forgets whether he signed a cheque for five millions or fifty millions. What is the cause of this inequality ~ What has taken the money from the pockets of the many and swept it into the coffers of the few? I answer in a wordSpecula- tion. I do not mean to say that all the very rich or all the very poor are speculators; for that would be manifestly untrue. A. T. Stewart was not a speculator, yet at his death he was worth fifty million dollars. John Jacob Astor accumulated twenty millions, of which only a small portion was the fruit of speculation. The elder Vanderbilt amassed a fortune of from sixty to a hundred millions, much of it entirely independent of speculation. On the other hand very many of the poorest people have never nieddled with speculation. There are other causes which mnst account for many individual cases of pov. erty and a few of the large fortunes in the land; but specula- tion is the underlying force which, more than any other, dis- turbs the natural laws and conditions of society and brings about such inequality of wealth where all should be comfort- able and none should be overburdened with riches. Doubtless Mr. George in the expression current treatises, refers among others to the works of John Stuart Mill, who says, The operations of speculative dealers are useful to the public when profitable to themselves; and though they are sometimes injurious to the public, by heightening the fluetna. 1888.] Econornic8 of Speculation. 5 tious which their more usual office is to alleviate, yet whenever this happens, the speculators are the greatest losers. Similar statements may be found in the writings of other well known economists. With them I have no dispute; for their meaning is clear to one who reads their works, and the truthfulness of their conclusions is unquestioned. But they use the word speculation in a peculiar sense, quite different from that which Americans attach to it. In fact the meaning of the word has been undergoing a process of evolution during the past half century, so that what our fathers called speculation we should hardly recognize under that title. Some writers make a dis- tinction between legitimate and excessive speculation; whereas all speculation in the modern sense is excessive. We must carefully distinguish between the two different senses in which the word speculation is used. When Mr. Mill and economists of his class use the word, they apply it to transactions based upon the actual possession and exchange of the commodities involved. The man who buys up the surplus wheat crop this year that he may profit by the probable short- age next year is a speculator in this sense of the word. So also is the man who buys railroad or bank stocks and holds them till an increase in their value enables him to sell them at a good profit. Speculation in land belongs strictly to this same class, since it implies the actual buying and selling of land. I do not know that there is any form of speculation in land that does not imply a real transfer of ownership. The form of speculation which prevails most extensively in our country to-day is wholly different from this. It consists in the transfer of paper contracts merely and has little or no foundation in actual exchange of commodities. It is in reality a form of gambling upon the chances of a rise or fall in the price of any commodity and is carried on without reference to real possession. Thousands of young men speculate in stocks who never have money enough at any time to purchase whole shares of any stock. Having scraped together a few dollars they invest in margins, that is, they deposit with a broker enough money to cover the change in value of a few shares of stock within a limited range. If the stock falls to the limit within the time specified, the depositor loses his money. If 6 Econornic8 of Speculation. [July, it rises, he wins the amount of increase. In either ease he has not owned a single share of stock, and perhaps his broker has not. Similar to this are the methods of speculation in the various exchanges. While a few men really buy and sell wheat, the majority of speculators buy and sell promises. One man makes a contract with another to sell him a million bushels of wheat at a certain price and time. He neither owns nor intends to own any wheat; but when the time comes to fulfill his contract if the price of wheat has risen above the stipu- lated price he settles with the purchaser by paying the differ- ence. If the price has fallen, the purchaser pays him the difference. By far the greater part of the speculation in our land consists in these fictitious or paper trades. For example, the entire cotton crop of the world available for American and European consumption is about seven million bales of four hundred and twenty-five pounds each in a year. The amount of cotton sold in the exchanges is over eighty million bales, having a value of five billion dollars. In this case the ratio of fictitious trades to the real is more than ten to one. When less than seventy million bushels of wheat are received at the New York Exchange, more than nine hundred millions are sold, giving about the same ratio as before. In the year 1882 the entire oil product of the country was twenty-four million barrels, and the amount sold in the Petroleum Exchanges was two billion barrels, showing a ratio of more than eighty dollars of fictitious trade to one dollar of real trade. The same pro- cess is repeated with iron and coal and various other extensive products of the country. Now it does not require any unusual keenness of intellect to distinguish between these different uses of the term specula- tion. In the writings of the economists already referred to, the word signifies any form of trade involving unusual risks with the expectation of deriving unusual profits. In its modern sense, speculation implies the use of artificial methods to create trade and derive profits independent of the law of supply and demand. The former use of the word is fast be. coming obsolete, and well it may, for it is equally indefinite and nusatisfactory. In view of the countless and varied risks in trade, who can say at precisely what point a risk becomes 1888.] Economic8 of Speculation. 7 unusual? Or who can define nunsual profits? In our day and land no risk and no profit would be universally recognized as unusual. On the other hand, the use of the term to signify artificial methods of trade and gain is very definite and meets with universal acceptance. It will be seen that this latter definition covers all the speculative transactions described in the preceding pages; whereas the older definition could only be applied to transactions of a wholly different nature which differ from ordinary trade only in the amount of money in- volved, or in the commodities exchanged. When Mr. Yanderbilt obtained control of the Harlem Rail- road and by his skillful management raised the price of the stock from about twenty per cent. of the par value to over two hundred per cent., th~ profit derived was natural and legiti- mate. The increase in the price of stock indicated a corres- ponding rise in value brought about by the improved condition of the railroad. But when a similar change was produced in the price of other railroad stocks by the combination and mani- pulation of brokers, while the real value of the stocks remained unchanged, that was speculation. The profits derived repre- sented no benefit conferred upon the public, but were the frnit of artifice and fraud. The man who buys a whole railroad at once is not necessarily a speculator any more than is the grocer who buys a dozen of eggs in the expectation of selling them again at a profit. It is in its artificial nature that the evil of speculation con- sists, and whenever this artificial element enters into trade its effect is evil and only evil. It is not a question of legitimate and excessive speculation. Whether little or much, speculation is always injurious in proportion to its extent. The paper contracts of the various Exchanges already men- tioned, involving billions of dollars, imply an actual loss on one side and gain on the other of hundreds of millions. This enormous sum of money does not represent any benefit con- ferred upon the community, but is absorbed by the fortunate speculators without any return whatever, leaving the country at large so much poorer. Worse than this, real prices every- where are largely determined, not by the natural law of supply and demand, but by the fictitious prices of speculators. Men 8 Economics of 8peculation. [July, pay for bread, not what it costs to raise the wheat and manu- facture and carry it to them, but what can be extorted from them by the tricks and combinations of Exchange gamblers. The variations in the r~rices of the different necessary corn- inodities as reported in the Exchanges are felt most keenly by the poor laborers of the world. Every transaction of a specu- lative nature increases the cost of the commodity handled by the amount of profit made. The commercial history of America abounds with illustra- tions of the way in which the prices of the most necessary articles are artificially raised and lowered when there has been no real inequality of supply and demand. Corners in wheat, gold, iron, and coal are of frequent occurrence. Thousands of poor people may be starving for want of bread while millions of bushels of wheat lie stored away in the elevators held to compel a rise in prices. And when the rise comes a few men are made rich by means of the injury they have inflicted upon society. All this is plainly evil. Again, take the case of speculation in stocks. The man who actually buys a number of shares in some good railway and receives his dividends from the earnings of the road, how- ever large those dividends may be, is deriving profits for which the work of the railroad is an adequate return to society. The benefit is approximately equal to all parties concerned. On the other hand, the man who invests in margins or in stocks and derives a profit from the rise in price which is wholly independent of the real value of the stocks, receives money for which he makes no return to society at large or to the indi- viduals whose loss contributes to his gain. In all such trans- actions every dollar of gain represents a corresponding dollar of loss on the other side. The almost incredible fortunes that have been amassed in railroad speculation may be accurately measured by the losses of smaller speculators all over the land. Wall Street is the great financial maelstrom into whose vortex are sucked the wages of many thousands of productive laborers. The movements of that great stock market are analogous to the filling and squeezing of a sponge. The earnings of count- less workers all over the land are drawn into speculative trade by the hope of suddenly acquired riches, and when it is well 1888.1 Econo?mic8 of Speculation. 9 filled the sponge is quietly squeezed into the pockets of the great speculators, leaving the vast majority of investors to mourn over their losses. The effect of all speenlation of this kind is to increase the inequality in the distribution of wealth, and to drive the ex- tremes of society more widely apart than ever. By specula- tion as a rule the rich grow richer and the poor poorer. Since speculation depends for its success upon the artificial raising and lowering of prices, it is evident that the rich man who invests millions can exert a much greater influence upon the market than the poor man who invests but a few dollars. The clerk of moderate means who invests ten dollars in margins is wholly at the mercy of the market. He must gain or lose as others shall determine, while a rich neighbor who has bought the same stocks is comparatively independent. When the price of the stock is forced down, those who have expended their little surplus in margins lose all as soon as the fall reaches a given point; but one whose resources are far in advance of his investment can tide over the period of adverse fortune, and by holding his stock for a rise in prices may make a large profit in the end. It is this ceaseless crushing of small investors between their wheels that keeps the great speculators from ruining each other, and fills their pockets amid all the fluctuations of the market. it is a principle recognized by all true economists that for every dollar which an individual receives from others, he should make an equivalent return. The speculator boldly sets this principle at defiance, and seeks to extort as many dollars as possible from his fellow-men without making any return. The result of speculation is the same as in the case of a lottery or in ordinary gambling; the few are enriched, the many are impoverished. When we consider that this process is constantly going on, that more than five hundred million dollars are annually trans- ferred from the pockets of producers to the pockets of non- producers by a method equivalent to gambling with loaded dice, can we wonder at the growing inequalities in our Ameri- can society? Do we not see in this fact an easy and abundant explanation of some of the problems that meet the social 10 Economics of Speculation~. [July, student of to-day? It must be evident to all that so long as speculation continues the equitable (not equal) distribution of wealth cannot be realized, the equilibrium of society cannot be maintained, the greatest evils of poverty cannot be wholly done away. Here is a centripetal force of the first magnitude ever working towards the centralization of wealth, and running conuter to the fundamental principles of social economy. So long as the force continues in operation we may expect the results to continue. If we would remove the results, we must first try to remove the cause which produces them. It is a time therefore when every true economist should declare plainly against speculation. The line should be carefully drawn between speculative and legitimate trade, and the former should be ruled out of respectable business circles. GEORGE H. HUBBARD. 1888.1 iVLiss Frances iJlerley. 11 ARTICLE ILMISS FRANCES MERLEY. iJfiss Frances iJferley. A Novel. By JOHN ELLIOT CURRAN. Cupples & ilurd, Boston. 1888. IT is, perhaps, futile to expect an agreement among writers of fiction as to the best type of a novel. The self-styled realists are vociferous in asserting their views. Theirs is the highest art, theirs is the ideal method. As an offset to these pretensions we have the sensational writers working on with amazing signs of life, and we see the stories of startling inci- dent eagerly demanded. Then too we find that the weird and mystical story still possesses sufficient power to stir the modern practical imagination. It is always interesting when a new work of fiction appears to see where the writer stands. What readers will he attract? With what class of work will he throw his influence? Occa- sionally as one turns the leaves of a new story, a book is found that does not belong to any conventional class. Such a book is The Midge, by Mr. Bunner, and such a book is Miss Frances iMierley now before us. It evidently is not the belief of the author of this latter story that, The truest art is to leave nothing out Likely to prove offensive. He does not, after the manner of the realists, feel constrained to choose for illustration only that which is mean and repulsive in human nature. Nor does he seek for sensational incidents or supernatural phenomenon. He undertakes the more diffi- cult task of making a picture true to life, giving both light and shadow. And the natural simplicity of his work is most strik- ing. The uneventful life of a country town is described in a sympathetic manner, and the villagers one meets there are pleasingly human. There is indeed about the book an atmos- phere of reality which awakens and finally absorbs the atten- tion of the reader until the end is reached, and, thus, it has

1888.1 iVLiss Frances iJlerley. 11 ARTICLE ILMISS FRANCES MERLEY. iJfiss Frances iJferley. A Novel. By JOHN ELLIOT CURRAN. Cupples & ilurd, Boston. 1888. IT is, perhaps, futile to expect an agreement among writers of fiction as to the best type of a novel. The self-styled realists are vociferous in asserting their views. Theirs is the highest art, theirs is the ideal method. As an offset to these pretensions we have the sensational writers working on with amazing signs of life, and we see the stories of startling inci- dent eagerly demanded. Then too we find that the weird and mystical story still possesses sufficient power to stir the modern practical imagination. It is always interesting when a new work of fiction appears to see where the writer stands. What readers will he attract? With what class of work will he throw his influence? Occa- sionally as one turns the leaves of a new story, a book is found that does not belong to any conventional class. Such a book is The Midge, by Mr. Bunner, and such a book is Miss Frances iMierley now before us. It evidently is not the belief of the author of this latter story that, The truest art is to leave nothing out Likely to prove offensive. He does not, after the manner of the realists, feel constrained to choose for illustration only that which is mean and repulsive in human nature. Nor does he seek for sensational incidents or supernatural phenomenon. He undertakes the more diffi- cult task of making a picture true to life, giving both light and shadow. And the natural simplicity of his work is most strik- ing. The uneventful life of a country town is described in a sympathetic manner, and the villagers one meets there are pleasingly human. There is indeed about the book an atmos- phere of reality which awakens and finally absorbs the atten- tion of the reader until the end is reached, and, thus, it has 12 A1i88 France8 ililerley. [July, the first qualification of a novel; it is interesting. The most casual reader will admit that he has found genuine entertain- ment. Bnt there are many reasons why this story will find its way to a deserved success. It is excellent as a literary work. The mind of the reader is kept constantly on the alert, and in a gratified state by the thoughtfulness, the sug- gestiveuess, and the gracefulness of the writingand this is pre~iminently true of the first half of the book. The descrip- tions of simple scenes are extremely pleasing, aud the uncon- ventional way in which the author states his background of facts is always attractive. As for example, at the beginning of a chapter describing a day of skating he says: In the latitude of Marshton it was not often that skating was to be had on Thanksgiving Day. I know a climate, farther north, where we boys used to be sure of both ice and snow-fall before that first holiday of the cold season; and the only question was whether it was the ice or the snow that was to get the upper hand and give us our out-of-door festivity. But at Marshton Thanksgiving was usually a cheerless day, when the going was bad, and people cared little to be out of doors. This year, however, there had been sharp frost for two or three days. At night the ground was covered with the frost gems that mimicked the starlit sky; and in the mornings the mist hung over the valleys, and the herbage was a silver-gray, the fields over. At noon the sun thawed the edges of the stiff mud ridges in the roads; but at sundown they hardened again, and the frost sank deeper day by day in the ground; and what was more to the point, by Thanksgiving morning, there was skating on the mill-pond. All the boys in town knew that before breakfast. The descriptions of natnre are graceful and acenrate. The writer speaks of the woods as they appear to one who frequents and loves them, and of winter scenes as one who revels in them. What conld be truer to life than this picture? On either side of the field itself only the top rails of the fences and the heads of the posts showed above tbe snoxv; and here and there a drift had surmounted the whole structure and buried it from sight. In other spots the drifted snow, curving and curling about the fences, had been cut by the wind and hollowed into the graceful form of a plough- share. Beyond the house the highway was so much depressed as to be invisible from where they stood; but off to the left there clustered the village, with an occasional moving figure or team to be seen, black against the white street. Beyond the highway and beyond the village 1888.] iJib88 Fi~ances 3Ierle~y. 13 the fenced fields rose again and retreated, and still retreated,ever nar- rowing up the distant slope, with their spots of farmhouses and out- buildings and haystacks,up to still higher ground where the woods began and where the tree-tops formed at last the minutely serrated horizon. All this opposite hillside seemed to be asleep for the winter, except for the little wisps of smoke that floated off from a chimney or two and lazily hung in the air,interposing patches of bluish film against the landscape. Scarcely a sound was heard. Just at hand there was deep stillness; only from the village could be faintly heard the occasional shout of a boy at play, or the momentary jingle of a sleigh-bell. There are indoor scenes no less pleasing. Frances and her uncle, of whom we shall hear further, are seated in his library, where they have come for a serions talk, and we read: They both sat in silence for some time. Finally, as a couple of logs broke with a crash, and a shower of sparks shot up, and a fresh blaze brightened the room and outshone the lamp, so that the shadows of the furniture went a-jigging on the wall, the mantel-piece danced crazily on the ceiling, the brasses of the fender sparkled, and even the gilt of the book-bindings in the bookcases became bright,then Luther turned to his niece. These are but haphazard instances of what any reader will constantly come npon. And the expectation that they are be- fore him adds much zest to the reading. Now and then, too, we meet some hnmorons description which is so simple and natural that it touches a responsive chord in the readers experience. Witness this vision of the silence at Mrs. Wormsleys table: Mrs. Wormsley herself was not a conversationalist. She, a some- what shrivelled and unprepossessing woman, presided at her table with a watchful eye, which, secure behind her spectacles (through which it was impossible to trace the movement of her optics without a very rude and long-continued gaze), only observed from day to day, with precis- ion, how much it took to satisfy her boarders appetites; being enabled thus to calculate her daily marketing to a nicety. There was money in that ; and that was what Mrs. Wormsley kept boarders for ;at least, it was a sin to waste money. Everybody at her table speedily became impressed with that fact; and the seriousness of it, and the conscious- ness that they were ever being gauged as to their appetites seemed to keep them sombre and dull, as if they were in a treadmill and under a hard surveillance. 14 iifiss Frances iJilerley. [July, And this picture of Newcomb: Then there was Newcomb, who was the agent at the railroad station. What Newcomb did not know about the coming and going of the peo- ple of Marshtonwhere they went, why they went, and when they were coming backwas not worth knowing. He acquired some in- sight into their affairs, also, by the careful consideration of such tele- grams as he received and sent for them. But Newcomb was not talka- tive. He kept his mouth shut, and followed the ways of the Marshton folk with his eyes and ears only. Fortunately, he had no wife to wring these secrets from his bosom and start them in circulation through the town; else the whole population might have been set by the ears. Only on infrequent occasions, when, being in company, he heard asser- tions which were so far wide of the truth as to seem to him an affront to his special knowledge, would this reticent man suddenly explode and indignantly deny the statement, abuse the astonished gossip for uttering such stuff, and then proceed to state the matter as he knew it, briefly, authoritatively and finally; so that, whether he was doubted or not, he was never directly contradicted. While a captious critic may discover here and there slight faults in the language and style of Miss Frances Merley; and may contend that, throughout, there is not the same evenness of writing, we believe it is not too much to say that the grace of the writing will secure for the book an individual place among works of real literary merit. This style can only be appreciated by a reading of the story, for it eludes analysis. Its individuality is largely in the phraseology, in the absence of bluntness, and in the pleasing fancifulness with which unim- portant events of ordinary life are described. But the strength of the book does not consist in its grace- fulness of style. The author has keen insight into character. The skill with which he discloses the real affection underlying manly undemonstrativeness is remarkable. His love scenes are tender and true, and are praiseworthy for their freedom from sentimentalism and worse faults. And the scenes calling for pathos and power are outlined with much dignity. There is one scene in particular which is admirable. Frances husband, Archie Huller, is lying dead. Their little world of wedded life, with all its pleasures and hopes and all its gradually dis- covered defects, was past. Her uncle had bitterly opposed her marriage, and since its occurrence had been estranged from her. Archie whom he had disliked had been unsuccessful. 1888.] Ailiss Frances iVI~rley. 15 There had been no reconciliation. Frances is alone with her hnsband. The little space of the apartment that was not taken up with the bed and stove and other furniture was scarcely more than large enough to receive its unusual holding, the silent form that lay stretched on its bier. She sat alone. It was all silence, dead silence,except for the occa- sional rattle of a wagon on the pavement outside. Not even a sob broke the stillness of the interior. She sat there, in the same paralysis of her emotional faculties that had held her since her husbands last breath. Not a tear had dimmed her eye. She had gone about her usual household offices, and these special ones that death had brought, with the carefulest womanly attention. Her power of emotion seemed to be suspended. She was sitting now, on an ottoman, looking vacantly before her, her head leaning on her hand,in an attitude of one taking a momen- tary rest. Yet she had been sitting thus for an hour. She did not know it. There came a knock at the door. In the hush it sounded loud, and startled her. She arose. The door opened, and Uncle Luther stepped with bared head across the threshold. She looked at him a moment. Then, as quick as thought, she dashed in between him and the lifeless form, and stood there facing him, with her eyes flashing fire, her fingers clinched, and her chest heaving,as if she would have defended the form on the pall against him; a tigress could not have been fiercer before her young. Luther stood regarding her, a look of utter helplessness on his strong face. So they remained, moment after moment, moment after moment; the excitement of the woman subsiding little by little, little by little. At last she could speak. Still standing defiant, she said hoarsely, He is dead, sir. The old gentlemans lips moved. Frances! Frances ! he cried, in in a broken tone of anguish; and he advanced with a hasty, impulsive movement, and clasped the desolate woman in his arms in a passionate embrace; and there, his head bowed down over hers, he cried, audibly and convulsively, like a child,tears of remorse and pity over one whom he had been harsh to, over one whom the world, nay Death, had come in and struck after he had struck her, and harder than he had; as if his initial blow had invited attack upon her from every hostile force; as if he had led the way, he, the strong man !and yet he had loved her all the time. Oh, the bitter sorrow! She clung tightly to him. They said not a word. The real interest of the story of conrse centers in the char- acter of Frances. She is eighteen, when first introdneed to the readeran orphan, with ample means to live a comfortable and conventional life. This she will not do. She is restless, 16 JIfis8 Erance8 iWierley. [July, aspiring, independent, coquettish, and human. She does not take her life as it comes but must do something to form it. Her energy first finds vent in a harmless meeting with Archie Hillera young teacher at Marshton. By gradual stages she ventures to assume control of Archies destiny. Perceiving his amiability, and neglecting to take into account his superficiality, she learns to love him. Her uncle has Archie removed from his school, and by opposition forces Frances to action. She refuses to forego her lover; she will not have the reflection cast him that he is livino on her fortune. And quietly de upon b fying her uncle, she marries Archie and determines to work out with him their mutual success. Together they go to New York and Archie attempts to get on as a lawyers clerk. His struggles, his careless good humor, his miserable success are told most picturesquely. And Frances devoted strivings to increase the mutual income by sewing, are pathetically related. At last, toiling on and yet wanting work, she is forced to pawn and sell some of her belongings. Suddenly, while affairs are at their worst, Archie dies. Her uncle comes, and the scene already quoted takes place. Again we have Frances back at Marshton. A year ago the neighborhood of Ebenezer Greens mill was a blithe spot. Now she can lean but for an instant over the rail of the bridge, and a tear drops down into the brook. The birch weaves back and forth under the dam just as it did a year ago ;it is a senseless thing; it is not concerned with what happens in the heart-world. Here is the stile; laughter and daring gave it life a year ago; but all that is past. The wild-rose bushes are in bloom again, and the roses ready to be picked; but who shall pick them? Farther down the road, below the bridge, where they sat of a forenoon a year ago, there are the same boulders. For aught any one knows, it may be the same small bird that goes hopping about the apple-boughs overhead; but there is notb- ing for him to hear there. The voices came and spoke and went; and that is ended. What of it? These stillnesse~, these vacancies, are everywhere in Nature; they are her heart. She whispers to us all, not what is, but what might be. Let her dry your eyes as she tells you there is but a common lot,this kind sister of ours. Next came peace,the peace of quiescence; peace reflected from the summer meadows, from the sleeping rocks; speaking softly in the field sounds, the tiny brook, and the insects. Then, at last, the calm spirit lifted up itself and looked about, and saw all things living again. The sky and its clouds are not a dream. 1888.1 ~Ifiss Frances 9Il& riey. 17 The grass is bowing under the wind. The ants are busy carrying their burden. The cattle are loxving in the next field. The world is alive, after all. She is in it; what shall she do ? What she finally does is to enter a convent located near Marshton. She engages her mind with the active charity work of the convent. She seeks repose. Bnt the humanity in her will not be put down. She strove to force herself into agreement with her new life; she tried to kill her worldliness, as she called it. . . . At times, in the play of her worldly imagination, she conceived of the edifice, and the grounds about it, as peopled with household elves from the olden time, imps who would not leave the old place, in spite of the nuns, but hunghalf lugubriously, half defiantly, nay, perhaps with a lurking hope of restorationamong the vines on the walls without, and about the cornices and dark corners of the rooms within ;forlorn relics these, of the former uncloistered human life that once held sway here. Sometimes, in the extravagance of her fancy, she imagined these little devils as peeping out at her from the busbiness of the cedars, or some- times as caracoling over the arabesque iron gates at the entrance to the yard. grinning angry protest everywhere against the banishment of family life from the convent. But she works on faithfully and the reputation of her good deeds goes abroad. When Mr. Marsy, who owns a home ad- joining the convent, and who has come upon it with an invalid friend, sees her, he looks upon her with no little curiosity. What he sees impels him to gaze more intently; for the authoras he should dohas given much attractiveness to the face of his heroine. IMlarsy comes into contact with Frances in charity work, and when Graham, his friend, nears the time of death he makes the request that he may have daily visitations from Sister Frances. Her duty impels her to grant the wish, and she visits him each day until he finally dies. Thus she is brought to feel more keenly the personality of Marsy. And Marsv, who has been fascinated by her prettiness, her lurking coquetry and her demure seriousness, determines that he must declare his love for her. Some time after the touching death of Graham, he follows Frances to the rocks on the coast and tells her of his love. She keeps to the path of duty. She has taken a serious step; she will be true to herself, she will regard her dignity and her vow. This she tells Marsy, but not with- out showing his influence with her. A period of two years voL. xiii. 2 18 2hss Fran ce~ iVilerley. [July, elapses. Marsy has been ~ghting in Bulgaria, and Frances has been struggling with herself in the convent. A question arises whether Marsys home had not been conveyed to the convent by an old deed, and Frances, to quiet the title, pays the necessary money into the convent treasury. This coming to the ears of Marsy, brings him to Marshton. Frances is weary of the convent restraints. In tears she seeks advice from an old friend, who has become an inmate of the House of Good Will. How may she save her dignity and yet break her vow We tind no fault with the authors decision of this question. But we cannot pass over the last chapter of the book witbout expressing the opinion that the character of Frances has been marred by it. She is, no doubt, coquettish from the beginning of the storyperhaps worldly. But at eighteen, without great ex- perience, she had shrunk from the conventional world, and there seems to he a retrograde movement in her character when we see her after all her trials and all her experience, turning again to the world. The author has evidently planned with deliberation a surprise in this chapter. But this surprise is not agreeable. The story is not one whichafter the Aldrich typeis written to mislead, and which from its conclusion derives spice and brilliancy. On the contrary it is a study of character. It treats of life and death, of serious mistakes, of solemn decis- ions, and we are entitled to have no character-surprises which are not in the line of natural development. Is Frances esca- pade in the final chapter in accord with her growth The author says yes, this is human nature. We may at least say she gave better promise; we regret her fallall hmnan nature is not alike. To tell the whole truth, we cannot believe that she so lost her dignity! She was outspoken, frank, brave, and daring. And when she was convinced that it was her duty to leave the convent she would have gone from it boldly. She would not have secretly defied its customs, remained within its doors, and tempted her companions. Her character had too much of calmness in it to warrant such extraordinary loss of poise as she shows in this convent scene with Marsy. She is represented as having toiled for monthspatiently, earnestly, bravelyat needle work, for its small pecuniary reward. Never 1888.] Aliss Frances Ailierley. 19 wavering, she had kept to her struggle. Then she spends four long years in the convent. Would a change of mind, as respects the future, suddenly plunge such a person in a riot of worldly faucy? We think not. Albeit we like her. And for her future we wish peace and full occupation. The other characters in the book are cleverly drawn. IMlarsy has about him an air of strength and worth which is gratify- ing, and Uncle Luther is a human combination of weakness and manliness. We cordially congratulate Mr. Curran on the good work he has done, and we shall look for any books he may give us in the future with rare interest. 20 illiriarn. [July, ARTICLE 111.MIRIAM. AND when the cloud was lifted from those three, Lo Miriam was leprous, white as snow! The people stood aghast, and shrank away As shadow-like she passed. Straight through the camp She took her way, the prophetess, the chief Of women; who had heard the Highest speak In holy dreams; who had declared his ways And sung His praise; lo. now an outcast, vile, With covered face, and thrust without the camp. Men stood amazed, and death-like silence fell Upon the host, as Miriam hastened on, And muttered in a hoarse and broken voice, Unclean, unclean! Then stirred my heart within me, And I ran and touched her, seized her hand. My mistress, oh, my mistressso I cried Let me go with thee! while a sullen roar Arose from all the watching crowdthou too Art now uncleau,and loudest shrieked the voice Of those I loved, the dear ones in the tent. But on my fathers face I saw a smile, (His was the house of Levi) and he said Go, child, and comfort her, Ill bring thee food. So forth we fared together, she and I, For she held fast my hand, although no word She spoke. Through all that sea of eager folk We passed. Twas like the Red sea passage with Its massive walls of water, which I scarce Remember, such a child was I. But these Were living walls, with curious human eyes, Some mocking, some rejoicing at the fall Of Miriam, the noblest of them all, And some with pity for her, and with tears.

20 illiriarn. [July, ARTICLE 111.MIRIAM. AND when the cloud was lifted from those three, Lo Miriam was leprous, white as snow! The people stood aghast, and shrank away As shadow-like she passed. Straight through the camp She took her way, the prophetess, the chief Of women; who had heard the Highest speak In holy dreams; who had declared his ways And sung His praise; lo. now an outcast, vile, With covered face, and thrust without the camp. Men stood amazed, and death-like silence fell Upon the host, as Miriam hastened on, And muttered in a hoarse and broken voice, Unclean, unclean! Then stirred my heart within me, And I ran and touched her, seized her hand. My mistress, oh, my mistressso I cried Let me go with thee! while a sullen roar Arose from all the watching crowdthou too Art now uncleau,and loudest shrieked the voice Of those I loved, the dear ones in the tent. But on my fathers face I saw a smile, (His was the house of Levi) and he said Go, child, and comfort her, Ill bring thee food. So forth we fared together, she and I, For she held fast my hand, although no word She spoke. Through all that sea of eager folk We passed. Twas like the Red sea passage with Its massive walls of water, which I scarce Remember, such a child was I. But these Were living walls, with curious human eyes, Some mocking, some rejoicing at the fall Of Miriam, the noblest of them all, And some with pity for her, and with tears. 1888.] 2JL& rn am. 21 So went we onward through that mighty host And stood without the camp. And there were men Who pitched a tent for Miriam, at eommand Of my lord Moses ; some fresh water brought, And some great sacks of wool: and all the while She stood apart, in gloomy silence wrapt As in a shroud. When all was done the men Moved off, and presently my father came. Upon his arm some badgers skins he bore, And in his hand a cruse of milk, and dates, And manna, freshly gathered at the dawn. He set them on the ground, for he, a priest, Might not approach to anything unclean. Thy fathers God shall bless thee, child, he said, And thee, too, mighty Miriam; and thou Shalt see again the visions of the Lord And hear His voice more plainly than before. Whereat she smiled a rueful smile, and bowed Her head, but spake no word. And now the day Was gone, and evening chill fell cold among The mountain peaks of Hazeroth. I prayed My mistress then to eat, and built a fire, And begged her come and warm herself. But she Beside the tent door sat, and shook her head. And then the stars began to shine, and glowed The cloudy pillar, hanging oer the camp. Whereon my mistress spoke in gentle tones And bade me sleep, for she, she said, must watch A while. Obedient, then I laid me down, But purposed in my heart to watch also. I must have slept, for presently I woke, And saw the moon late rising oer the hills Look through the tent door. There sat Miriam Erect and strong, her white hair not more white Than was her ashen face, and she sang low: Sing ye to the Lord for he bath triumphed Gloriously. She ceased, and bowed her to the earth. Full well am I called Miriam, she cried, Exalted, yea exalted once, when I 22 iJi1%r~4UTh. [July, Led forth the women in the joyful dance With timbrel and with song, and praised the Lord; Now bitterness I taste as of the sea. She bowed herself again and ceased. And then After long pause of silent agony Broke forth anew My little Moses, mine, Belovd, son of my soul, whose tender life These young arms held. Who watched oer thee upon The banks of treacherous Nile? Who quickly ran And faced the princess proud, with good excuse To call a nurse, and brought thee home again? Thy life was in my hand; my maiden breast For thee knew all a mothers fears and joys, First born, most dear art thou of all my sons. And when I saw thee learned in the arts Of Egypt, how my soul rejoiced in thee, And pride and love conjoined to call thee mine! My brother! Did not all that ancient love That service, and my older years, my gifts Of prophecy, my holy dreams, give me Some right of judgment when thou provst thyself A man, and takest thee an alien wife? Again a pause, and longer than before, And then in tones more resolute she spoke The bitterness is mine, I drain the cup, And lo, the dregs turn honey in my mouth. I said, I see, and so was blind; I said, I know, and so was but a fool. The gift Of God is given to him who can receive. He gave me gifts, and I but shut them out, Not seeing in the light that His gifts shed, But in my pride of darkness. Whereas he, My brother, saw the glory of the Lord, Had open vision, heard the voice of God, Yet was withal so meek, that in my pride I said my gifts are equal his, and made My older years excuse for judgment, turned My love to uses base, and rashly wrought Sedition in the camp. Love gives no right 1888.] llfThiam. 23 To sit in judgment on anothers acts. Each stands or falls to God alonethe Just, The Wise, the Wonderful, I bless His name. Again she ceased. The night was spent, the east Flushed with the tint of dawn upon the hills. She rose, and stood beside the open door. The light fell on her, lo, her leprosy Had vanished; pure and smooth her noble brow, The flush of dawn was painted on her cheek. There stood she, tall, commanding as of yore, But with a softened grace, as stately palms Bedewed with rain; and, as the sun arose, Arose her voice, sonorous, strong and clear, Sing ye to the Lord, for He hath triumphed Gloriously. CAROLINE HAZARD. 24 Light of Asia and Light of the World. [July, ARTICLE IV.DR. KELLOGGS LIGHT OF ASIA AND LIGHT OF THE WORLD. THE motive of iDr. Kellogg in writing this interesting and instructive book is given by him in his introduction, and sym- pathy with that motive has prompted the following review. He says: There is reason to believe that a large class, even of Christian people, have a most exaggerated idea of the excel- lence of the great non-christian religions, and the extent to which their teachings agree with those of the Gospel of Christ. It was the wish to correct the widespread misconception of the like- ness between Christianity and Buddhism that prompted him to write the book under consideration. The reader does not pro- ceed far in it before feeling that he is being guided in thought by a man thoroughly conversant with his subject, and honest in his purpose to give credit to Buddhism for all that is true and good in it, whether as a system of religion or of ethics. But while treating Buddhism with the utmost candor, he an- nounces in the outset that he is writing for a purpose, and not from the standpoint of religious indifference. He urges that he has a right to take his stand upon the ascertained truths of Christianity in his investigations of the teachings of other re- ligious systems. The astronomer does not ignore the facts already in his possession in his further study of the heavens, but makes those facts the basis of his researches; so the scholar should use the accepted facts of Christianity in studying other religions. To reject truth already in possession is to disqualify ones seli for the discovery of further truth, or to discriminat- ing truth from error. NoTE.The following paper is a summary of the first four chapters of Dr. Kelloggs Light of Asia and Light of the World, giving the results but not the processes of the discussion. Thoughts of the writer have sometimes been introduced without sharply distinguishing them from the thoughts of the author he is following, but such passages have only been introduced to make emphatic some important truth by giving it further application; and it is hoped that the conclusions of the author have in no passage been misrepresented.D. Z. SHEFFIELD.

24 Light of Asia and Light of the World. [July, ARTICLE IV.DR. KELLOGGS LIGHT OF ASIA AND LIGHT OF THE WORLD. THE motive of iDr. Kellogg in writing this interesting and instructive book is given by him in his introduction, and sym- pathy with that motive has prompted the following review. He says: There is reason to believe that a large class, even of Christian people, have a most exaggerated idea of the excel- lence of the great non-christian religions, and the extent to which their teachings agree with those of the Gospel of Christ. It was the wish to correct the widespread misconception of the like- ness between Christianity and Buddhism that prompted him to write the book under consideration. The reader does not pro- ceed far in it before feeling that he is being guided in thought by a man thoroughly conversant with his subject, and honest in his purpose to give credit to Buddhism for all that is true and good in it, whether as a system of religion or of ethics. But while treating Buddhism with the utmost candor, he an- nounces in the outset that he is writing for a purpose, and not from the standpoint of religious indifference. He urges that he has a right to take his stand upon the ascertained truths of Christianity in his investigations of the teachings of other re- ligious systems. The astronomer does not ignore the facts already in his possession in his further study of the heavens, but makes those facts the basis of his researches; so the scholar should use the accepted facts of Christianity in studying other religions. To reject truth already in possession is to disqualify ones seli for the discovery of further truth, or to discriminat- ing truth from error. NoTE.The following paper is a summary of the first four chapters of Dr. Kelloggs Light of Asia and Light of the World, giving the results but not the processes of the discussion. Thoughts of the writer have sometimes been introduced without sharply distinguishing them from the thoughts of the author he is following, but such passages have only been introduced to make emphatic some important truth by giving it further application; and it is hoped that the conclusions of the author have in no passage been misrepresented.D. Z. SHEFFIELD. 1888.~ I4o~t of Asia and Lig~4t of tke World. 25 The first chapter is devoted to pointing out the chief causes that have operated to make Buddhism attractive in western lands. The first enumerated is the presumption in favor of a religion which has propagated itself by persuasion, and not by force, and gained control over the religious convictions of snch vast multitudes of men. Buddhism has secured the largest vote of humanity in its favor, and many men are disposed to decide the question of truth or error by the largest show of hands. Again: Buddhism recognizes no eternal being, only an eternal becoming. (Koppen.) It teaches, that all that is, is simply the result of an evolution from a previous state of things, as also that state of things from one before, and so on, by an eternal process, of which a beginning is not even think- able. Such teaching is pleasing to many men in western lauds who see iu it au essential harmony with the doctrine of evolution, which excuses men from believing that iu the be- ginning God created the heavens and the earth, that he formed mans body out of the dust of the earth, and breathed into it a living spirit. The teachings of Buddhism are in harmony with the natural dispositions of men to glory in man, in his powers and achievements. Christianity humbles man with a profound sense of guilt in the sight of God, and only exalts him through the road of repentance, and trust in the Divine Saviour; but Buddhism appeals to mans natural inclination to save himself by his own works, to atone for sin by works of righteousness, and at last to make for himself a seat among the gods. Bud- dhism leaves no place for God in its teachings. It does not ex- plain the cause of the eternal succession of worlds, and thus it finds sympathizing apologists among the agnostic atheists of Christendom. Buddhism is pessimistic in its views of life. Death is sufferino~ sickness is suffering; to be united to what is not loved is suffering; to be parted from what is loved is suffering; not to attain ones desires is suffering. Christianity makes suffering an incident of sin, and its counterpart is end- less iov in a life of holiness. Buddhism makes suffering an incident of existence, and the goal of self-culture is to escape from its power in a state of unconsciousness. This sorrowful view of life awakens response in the hearts of many who have tasted of bitterness and disappointment, and who are without that joy and hope which is begotten by a living faith in Christ. 26 iigkt of Asia and light of the World. [July, Dr. Kellogg further enumerates the high order of ethical teachings set forth in the Buddhistic system as a cause of its attractiveness. He is disposed in this respect to regard Bud- dhism as standing alone among the various i~eligions of the non- christian world. It is doubtful if he would have spoken so strongly had he been as well acquainted with the ethical teach- ings of Confucianism as with those of Buddhism. The two ethical systems have very much in common, and both have much that is in harmony with Christianity. On the whole the Confucian ethical system is more symmetrical and healthy than that of Buddhism. It teaches men their duties in the ordinary relations of life. It offends against Christian ethics by not tracing the grounds of human obligation to their ultimate source in God; but while Buddhism equally fails in this re- spect, its teachings, if practically carried out, in magnifying the duty of retiring from the world to escape its evils, and to make progress in virtue, would prove more deranging and dis- integrating to society than those of Confucianism and so less in harmony with the true standard of social ethics. Buddhism was, still further, a revolt against the Brahminical system of pretended revelation, and thus commends itself to men who are disposed to reject authority in religion, who regard human reason as the only true guide in life, and look upon faith in the supernatural as superstition. Again there are certain analogies in the history and doctrines of Buddhism and Christianity which have been seized upon with gladness by men who wish to degrade Christianity from the supreme place which it as- sumes as the one true religion, to the humbler place of one of the great religious, performing along with others its part in the spiritual elevation of the race. The second chapter is occupied with the discussion of the comparative historical value of the Buddhist and Christian scriptures. The time of the life of Christ is fixed and certain. A large company of disciples received their instructions di- rectly from his lips. The story of Christ was written down by men who had special opportunities to learn the exact truth, in the time, and with the approval of living witnesses to the cor- rectness of their record. If the time of the life of Christ were a matter of uncertainty; if the disciples who recorded his life 1888.] Light of A8ia and light of the World. 27 and teachings received their information not directly but by tradition, which had been subject to the corruption of oral transini~sion for one or two centuries, the credit of the wit- nesses to the life and teachings of Christ would be greatly weakened. But the date of the life of Buddha is a matter of uncertainty among the best scholars. Many scholars follow the southern school of Buddhists, and lix the date of the death of Buddha at 543 B. C. Other distinguished scholars give later dates, Muller 477 B. C., Rhys Davids 410 B. C., Weber 370 B. C. Thus there is an uncertainty of one or two hundred years as to the time of the life of Buddha. Yet further, if we accept the latest date proposed by scholars for the death of Buddha there yet elapsed a period of over three huiidred years before the teachings of Buddha were committed to writing by his disciples (8676 B. C.). Again, Christ lived in an age of the world the very best known in ancient history, in an illus- trious period in the history of Rome. The period was one of intellectual enlightenment, when men were tired of old super- stitions, and were disposed to challenge the truthfulness of teachings propounded to them. Christianity was itself a pro- test against superstition, and invited the closest scrutiny of its doctrinal teachings, and its statement of facts. It did not ap- pear as something suddenly dropped down out of heaven, but pointed to a long history of Gods peculiar dealing with a na- tion which he had taken under special pupilage, and that his- tory culminated in the fully authenticated life and teachings of Christ. In contrast with all this, the life of Buddha was in an obscure, uncertain period of Indian history, without contem- poraneous history to witness to the propagation of Buddhism. Dr. Hunter in his Article in the Britannica on India makes the external history to begin with the invasion of Alexander (327 B. C.), and Lenormant in his Ancient History of the East~ omits India, for the reason, as he informs the reader, that his purpose is to write reliable history, but that in the present state of knowledge a reliable history of India can not be written. Thus the teachings of Buddha were orally trans- mnitted for several centuries by disciples destitute of the histor- ical instinct, but with vivid imaginations, leading to great diversity in the accounts of the life and teachings of Buddha, 28 JiiqAt f Asia and Light of tke TYotld. [July, and the Buddhists themselves tell us that the canon was com- mitted to writing to prevent hopeless corruption. The conclusion is that while the New Testament scriptures are of the very highest historical value as a record of facts, and a truthful account of the teachings of Christ, the il3uddhistic scriptures are of little historical value, as the student is coin- pelled to trust to his critical judgment to discriminate between fact and fable. Christs teachings were committed to writing by living witnesses of the highest order of integrity, many of them sealing their testimony with their lives. The evidence as to the life and teachings of Christ is more exact and complete than is the evidence as to the life and teachings of any ancient sage, for example, of Socrates or Confucius. These facts coin- pelled acceptance in a critical age. Even the enemies of Chris- tianity, Julian, Celsus, Porphyry, never called in question the great outlines of the life of Christ as a religious teacher. But the disciples of Buddha have produced no reliable life of their master. Their love of prodigies has run riot in wild fancies as to his words and acts, and facts and fiction have been cast into a well-nigh insoluble mass. The third chapter gives a sketch of the life and legend of Buddha. He was probably born five or six centuries before Christ the son of a petty Indian prince. The accounts of his childhood and youth have no historical value, but Buddhist authorities do not attribute to him acquaintance with Vedic learning, in which Brahmin youth were educated. At twenty- nine years of age he was married to the beautiful Yasodhara, who bore him one son, Th~hula. The exact causes which led him to the adoption of the ascetic life may not be known, but it can be easily understood how the sight of poverty, sickness, and misery on every side operated on a sensitive and compas- sionate temperament, leading him to the solemn resolution to solve for himself and others the mystery of the worlds sorrow. The end of all his strivings was to discover the way that should lead to the succession of pain. He sought in vain for instruc- tion among the Brahmin teachers, and failing in this he took to a life of rigid penance and self-mortification, but all in vain. At length there came a decisive spiritual struggle, in which he believed himself to have solved the enigma of life, and to have 1888.] Light of Asia and Light of the World. 29 discovered the way of escape from pain. It was then that he discovered The fonr noble trnths which form the basis of the Bnddhist doctrinal system :(1) Sorrow is inseparable from existence; (2) The canse of sorrow is thirst, or desire ; (3) The destrnction of sorrow is effected by the destrnction of thirst; (4) The way to this end is the eightfold holy path. He now began his career as a preacher of his newly-discovered method to extinguish sorrow, but at first men were slow in en- tering npon the celibate and mendicant life, as it was seen that it wonld break up families, and if strictly carried out would put an end to society. It was necessary to make room in the system for families and business communities. This was done by promulgating a secondary system of observances which could be kept by the householder; and though not leading di- rectly to nirvana, would improve the condition of the present life, and lead to better conditions for the attainment of nirvaifa in the next life. The life of Buddha has therefore almost nothing in common with the life of Christ, and nmch that is in the sharpest contrast. Buddha was born in riches, Christ in poverty. Buddha was born in marriage, Christ of a pure vir- gin. Buddha strng~led long to secure salvation from misery, Christ had no such struggle. Buddha died a natural death at a ripe old age, Christ died a violent death upon the cross. The legend of Buddha abounds in records of miracles supported by no evidence, akin to the wild, superstitious fancies that have sprung up at a certain stage in the development of almost every ancient nation. Buddba, we are told, was originally a rich Brahmin living in a remote period of the past. He resolved to renounce his wealth and become an ascetic that he might attain to the state in which there is no rebirth, and therefore no sorrow. But his self-renunciation was in its motives in sharpest contrast with the self-sacrifice of Christ. Christ veiled his divinity, and chose a life of shame and humiliation, that he might bring men back to their true relation to God; Buddha gave himself to a life of temporary discomfort and self-denial that he might ultimately attain to self-exaltation, a kind of self-deification, the end of all effort being, not as in Christian- ity a life of eternal blessedness, but an escape from misery. Five hundred births are enumerated, as man, as god, as bird, as 30 Light of Asia and Light of the W6rid. [July, beast, before the estate of iBnddhahood was reached. The cir- cumstances of the last conception and birth abonnd with the most extravagant wonders that a prolific imagination could in- vent. When born he was placed npon the earth, and he walked at. once, and shonted, I am the chief of the world. A ven- erable ascetic, Asita, seeing the heavenly hosts rejoicing, paid a visit to the new-born child, and prophesied that the misery and wretchedness of men wonld disappear, and at his bidding peace and joy would everywhere flourish. His youth was spent in the luxury of the palace, and it was sought to exclude from him all snggestions of pain and sorrow; but in spite of every precaution he learned of the worlds misery, and that the end of life was weakness, decay, and death. He resolved at length to give up the palace and the kingdom, his wife and child, and discover for himself and for the world the way of escape from pain and woe. Mara, the prince of evil, appeared in the air to oppose his renunciation of the world, promising that he would soon become sovereign over four continents and two thousand islands; but he resisted the temptation, and set himself to the achievement of his purpose. After long years of struggle and failure the great day of victory caine, but it was preceded by Maras last and most terrible attack to prevent the consununa- tion of his purposed good. He sent against the Bodhisat a scourge of wind, of rain, of burning rocks, of swords and spears, of burning charcoal, ashes, sand, and filth, followed by a four- fold darkness; but he stood firm and recounted his good deeds, to which the earth testified with an awful roar, and Mara was at last discomfited. The conflict was ended, and it was followed by the apprehension of the long-sought-for saving knowledge, when the Buddha reached the end of desire, and so of misery. Filled with his suddenly attained perfect wisdom, he went forth to persuade men to follow him in the attainment of deliverance from pain and misery. In all these stories which cluster about the birth, the renunciation, and the illumination of Buddha we are impressed with their extravagance and childishness, stand- ing in entire contrast with the appropriateness and modest dignity of the stories of the birth, the temptations, the teach- ings, and works of the Divine Redeemer. 18S8j Ligkt of Asia and Light of the World. 31 The fourth chapter is occupied with the discussion of the legend of Buddha and the story of Christ. Dr. Kellogg dis- cusses in a very candid and scholarly way the qnestion as to whether iBuddhisin had any influence in Palestiuc before the time of Christ. He quotes from many high authorities on the subject, and his conclusion is that there is no evidence of such influence, either in the history or the literature of the time. He quotes from Professor Kuenen as saying: I think that we may safely affirm that we must abstain from assigning to Buddhism the smallest direct influence in the origin of Chris- tianity. Mr. IRhys Davids also says: I can find no evidence whatever of any actual and direct communication of any of these ideas common to Buddhism and Christianity from the east to the west. There are no traces of Buddhism in Jewish literature before the time of Christ, no evidence that Buddhism was known in the Roman Empire at the time of Christ. The name of Buddha is not named by any Roman author until Clement of Alexandria. The Gospels were written by per- sonal witnesses of the teachings and works of Christ, and there was no time for the facts of his teachings and works to have been corrupted by Buddhistic legends. Yet further, there was no motive for inserting such foreign legends. They were never accused of this by their ancient enemies, who were ready to turn every possible weapon against Christianity. The alleged coincidences either in incidents or teachings between Buddhism and Christianity are natural and appropriate to the time and circumstances as they stand recorded in the Gospels, and the mere fact of coincidence is not sufficient to attribute to them a foreign origin. There is no likeness between the previous existence of Bud- dha and Christ. Christ dwelt in the bosom of tIme Father, in the glory of his eternal Divinity. Buddha passed through a multitude of trausmigrations; eighty times as ascetic, fifty- eight times as king, twenty-four times a brahmnin, twenty times the god Sakka, forty-three times a tree-god, five times a slave, once a devil-dancer, twice a rat, twice a pig. Christ was born of a pure virgin, but the attemupt of some scholars to prove that Buddhistic authorities attribute virginity to the mother of Buddha is not confirmed by candid investiga 32 Light of Asia artd light of the World. [July, tion, and is contrary to the most ancient traditions. The fur- ther attempt to prove that Il3nddhistic writings teach that il3uddha was conceived by the Holy Ghost mnst also be set aside. A neighboring king, ]3imbasara, we are told, was advised to destroy iBuddha while yet a yonth for the safety of his king- dom, bnt the king refnsed to molest the yonng prince. This incident has been pressed by men of a lively imagination into likeness to the incident of Herods seeking to destroy Christ. Dr. Kellogg criticises with jnst severity the anthor of The Light of Asia for not infreqnently describing the story of Buddha, using language nearly coincident with that of Scrip- ture, and thus leading the reader to infer that the writers of the Gospels were borrowers from Buddhism in these passages, while in fact they seem to be the pure creation of the ima~ina- tion of the poet, with nothing corresponding to theni in Bud- dhistic writings. Thus the aged Asita says to the mother of the infant iBuddha: A sword must pierce Thy bowels for this boy. The lord paced in meditation lost, Thinking, alas! for all my sheep which have No shepherd, wandering in the night, with none To guide them There were certain incidental agreements in the life of Bud- dha and Christ, which however differ so entirely in their cir- cumstances and details that they can only be attributed to acci- dent, without supposing that either Christian or Il3uddhistic writers were borrowers in what they related. Such was the fact of a past of both Buddha and Christ before entering upon their ministry; their presentation in a temple in infancy; Christs blessing by Simeon and Anna, and Buddhas blessing by the aged Asita. So there were occasional agreements in the form of teaching of Buddha and Christ, and in illustrations employed. Thus Buddha said: What is the use of platted hair? Fool! what of the raiment of goat-skins? Within them there is ravening, but the outside thou makest clean. Again: As when a string of blind men are clinging the one to the other, neither can the foremost see, nor can the middle one see, nor can the hindmost see, just so, methinks, Vasita is the talk 1888.1 Light of A8ia and Light of the World. 33 of the Brahiujus versed in the three Vedas. Presents were made to Buddha as to Christ at his birth, but the coincidence is naturally explained b~ the prevalence of the custom of giv- ing presents at the birth of persons of rank. The miracles ascribed to the life of Buddha and those wrought by the power of Christ present the strongest contrasts. Christs miracles were deliberate and express exhibitions of Divine power, and weve wrought as a witness to his mission, and further to sym- bolize important truths. The Buddhistic miracles were for the most part spontaneous prodigies of nature manifested at certain important epochs in the life of Buddha. They were grotesque and frivolous, and destitute of any ethical end. Christ refused to work miracles to gratify curiosity, but Buddha in an athletic contest threw an elephant sixteen miles, and caused a vessel to move up a stream as swiftly as a race horse! The temptations of Buddha and Christ have interesting points of likeness, but these likenesses have been exaggerated. Arnold in his Light of Asia mistakes the nature of the temptation of Buddha, making it a temptation to the sin of selfishness, and thus of similar ethical significance to the temp- tation of Christ; but the Buddhistic term thus misinterpreted nicans: The affirmation of the existence of an abiding soul, or self, (IRhys Davids). So the language put by Arnold into the mouth of the tempter: If thou best Buddha, is an an- achronism, since Gautama did not become Buddha, the enlight- ened one, until after the temptation. Arnold heightens the likeness of the temptation of Buddha to that of Christ by choosing those incidents which suggest similarity, and sup- pressing many others that in their grotesqueness and wild exaggerations are in utter contrast with the temptation of Christ. The story of the temptation of our first parents lin- gered in the traditions of many nations, and may have had its influence on the legend of the temptation of Buddha. There is an almost universal belief in evil spirits who employ them- selves in preventing the accomplishment of that which is good; and thus there were natural causes why the legend of Buddhas temptation should have taken the form in which we find it, and there is no reason for assuming any borrowing, in the account of either temptation. voL. xiii. 3 34 Liqht of Asia and Light of the World. [July, The legend of Buddhas first sermon suggests a possible relation to the story of the day of Pentecost, though the diver- gence is so wide that the similarity may be only accidental; but if there were borrowing it must have been on the part of the Buddhistic writers, since in the il3nddhistic legend we can only see at best a wild distortion of the wonderful but unem- bellished story of Pentecost. Thus we are told that the worlds were left empty, as all the gods and heavenly beings came to listen to Buddha, and so crowded were they that a hundred thousand gods had no more space than the point of a needle, and when Buddha spoke, Though he spoke in the language of Magadha, each one thought that he spoke in his own language. Dr. Kellogg in discussing the question as to whether Bud- dhism could have borrowed from Christianity, points to the fact of the existence of a Syrian Church in India at a very early date, which according to the tradition of that church was founded by Thomas the Apostle. Still further, the truths of Christianity were widely propagated in India and China before the legend of Buddha assumed its final form; and when we remember on the one hand that early Christianity propagated itself among nations who had a quick historical instinct, pre- serving careful records of important events to transmit to pos- terity; and on the other, that Buddhism propagated itself in a nation peculiarly destitute of the historical sense, leaving modern scholars to grope in almost hopeless confusion as to the exact dates, and the precise facts concerning ahuost every question of interest: it becomes evident that the attempt to make Christianity a borrower from Buddhism has no justifica- tion in history. The motives that have led men to this line of argument, when traced to their springs, are the desire to rob Christianity of its assumed divine origin, and to deny to it the supreme place as the one religion fitted to satisfy the highest spiritual wants of men; bat the attempt is doomed to ultimate failure, and while Buddhism in the total outcome of its teach- ings is a mass of superstitions, starving mens spiritual natures with that which is not bread, Christianity will continue its glorious mission of breaking the bread of life to a famishing world. D. Z. SHEFFIELD, Tungeho, April 24, 1888. 1888.] like Afatkematieal Club of Yale Univer8ity. 35 UNIVERSITY TOPICS. THE MATHEMATICAL CLUB OF YALE UNIVERSITY. Tuesday, April 10. Professor Gibbs read a paper comparing the elastic and the electrical theories of light with respect to the law of double re- fraction and the dispersion of colors. (This has since appeared in the American Journal of Science, June number). Tuesday, May 1. Capt. Chas. H. Townshend exhibited a new doubly-reflecting circle, and explained its use. Professor Newton described a stereographic projectioa of the sphere (in two hemispheres) which he had had printed for use in plotting and reducing observations upon meteors. He also pre- sented some relations which he had found to hold true between the former orbits of those meteorites which are in our collections and which have been seeu to fall and the earths orbit about the sun. These are summed up in the following propositions. 1. The meteorites which we have in our cabinets and which were seen to fall were originally (as a class and with a very small number of excel)tions) moving about the Sun in orbits that had inclinations less than 900, that is, their motions were direct not retrograde. 2. The reason why we have only this class of stones in our col- lections is not one wholly or even mainly dependent on the habits of men ;nor on the times when men are out of doors; nor on the places where men live ; nor on any other principle of selec- tion acting at or after the arrival of the stones at the ground. Either the stones which are moving in the solar system across the earths orbit move in general in direct orbits ;or else for some reason the stones which move in retrograde orbits do not in general come through the air to the ground in solid form. 3. The perihelion distances of nearly all the orbits in which these stones moved were not less than 0.5, nor more than 1.0, the earths radius vector being nuity.

1888.] like Afatkematieal Club of Yale Univer8ity. 35 UNIVERSITY TOPICS. THE MATHEMATICAL CLUB OF YALE UNIVERSITY. Tuesday, April 10. Professor Gibbs read a paper comparing the elastic and the electrical theories of light with respect to the law of double re- fraction and the dispersion of colors. (This has since appeared in the American Journal of Science, June number). Tuesday, May 1. Capt. Chas. H. Townshend exhibited a new doubly-reflecting circle, and explained its use. Professor Newton described a stereographic projectioa of the sphere (in two hemispheres) which he had had printed for use in plotting and reducing observations upon meteors. He also pre- sented some relations which he had found to hold true between the former orbits of those meteorites which are in our collections and which have been seeu to fall and the earths orbit about the sun. These are summed up in the following propositions. 1. The meteorites which we have in our cabinets and which were seen to fall were originally (as a class and with a very small number of excel)tions) moving about the Sun in orbits that had inclinations less than 900, that is, their motions were direct not retrograde. 2. The reason why we have only this class of stones in our col- lections is not one wholly or even mainly dependent on the habits of men ;nor on the times when men are out of doors; nor on the places where men live ; nor on any other principle of selec- tion acting at or after the arrival of the stones at the ground. Either the stones which are moving in the solar system across the earths orbit move in general in direct orbits ;or else for some reason the stones which move in retrograde orbits do not in general come through the air to the ground in solid form. 3. The perihelion distances of nearly all the orbits in which these stones moved were not less than 0.5, nor more than 1.0, the earths radius vector being nuity. 36 The Philosophical Club. [July, THE POLITICAL SCIENCE CLUB. May 25. Mr. F. D. Pavey read a paper on Trusts. The agitation over the question of trusts was defined as a new phase of a conflict between the theory of competition and the constant expansion of the scale of industrial enterprise. The distinction was noted between commercial competition and indus- trial competition, the former being embodied in the legal maxim that competition is the life of trade. The inapplicability of this form of competition to modern industrial production con- ducted by means of a large permanent investment in plant was pointed out, as well as the influence of unrestricted competition upon the recurrence of periods of commercial inflation and de- pression. Two principal conclusions were reached. 1. The widespread existence of combinations of some character for regulating production and controlling prices in almost every industry. 2. Their cause is the real and not fancied evils of unrestricted competition. The paper closed with the prediction of the probable futility of attempts to remove trusts by means of direct prohibitory legislation or indirect tariff legislation, and with the suggestion that in regulative legislation, based upon unbiased investigation and having for its object the prevention of discrimination either in transportation or prices, might be found the solution of the difficulty. THE PHILOSOPHICAL CLUB. April 11. Professor A. Jay DuBois read a paper on Science and Miracle. April 24. Mr. W. L. Cross presented a paper on Lessiugs Laokoon. The essay consisted mainly of an exposition of Lessings theory of poetry. A discussion followed on Wordsworths poetry, and Matthew Arnolds conceptions of the nature and purpose of poetic art. May 8. Dr. William T. Harris of Concord read a paper on Philosophy: its problem and method. Dr. Harris gave an introductory sketch of speculative thought, and then proceeded to elaborate his own views and to set forth clearly his philosoph- ical position. At the close of the reading, Dr. Harris responded to a number of questions with regard to philosophical subjects.

36 The Philosophical Club. [July, THE POLITICAL SCIENCE CLUB. May 25. Mr. F. D. Pavey read a paper on Trusts. The agitation over the question of trusts was defined as a new phase of a conflict between the theory of competition and the constant expansion of the scale of industrial enterprise. The distinction was noted between commercial competition and indus- trial competition, the former being embodied in the legal maxim that competition is the life of trade. The inapplicability of this form of competition to modern industrial production con- ducted by means of a large permanent investment in plant was pointed out, as well as the influence of unrestricted competition upon the recurrence of periods of commercial inflation and de- pression. Two principal conclusions were reached. 1. The widespread existence of combinations of some character for regulating production and controlling prices in almost every industry. 2. Their cause is the real and not fancied evils of unrestricted competition. The paper closed with the prediction of the probable futility of attempts to remove trusts by means of direct prohibitory legislation or indirect tariff legislation, and with the suggestion that in regulative legislation, based upon unbiased investigation and having for its object the prevention of discrimination either in transportation or prices, might be found the solution of the difficulty. THE PHILOSOPHICAL CLUB. April 11. Professor A. Jay DuBois read a paper on Science and Miracle. April 24. Mr. W. L. Cross presented a paper on Lessiugs Laokoon. The essay consisted mainly of an exposition of Lessings theory of poetry. A discussion followed on Wordsworths poetry, and Matthew Arnolds conceptions of the nature and purpose of poetic art. May 8. Dr. William T. Harris of Concord read a paper on Philosophy: its problem and method. Dr. Harris gave an introductory sketch of speculative thought, and then proceeded to elaborate his own views and to set forth clearly his philosoph- ical position. At the close of the reading, Dr. Harris responded to a number of questions with regard to philosophical subjects. 1888.] Address at Yale Theological Anniversary. 37 ADDRESS AT THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE YALE DIVINITY SCHOOL, MAY 16TH, 1888. Gentlemen of this Divinity School: ]%strmctors and Scholars: THE line of thought I shall follow on this occasion is sug- gested by the words of the Master to be found in the fourth chapter of Marks gospel, the twenty-eighth verse, as follows: First the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear. These are wonderfully simple words with which to set forth the grandest of all processes and eventsthe coming of the kingdom of God. Yet these are the words which He who knew most about that kingdoms nature and growth chose to employ, to tell men how it is to come. The Master was speaking under the blue canopy of a Syrian sky. He was seated in a little boat moored just oft the strand of the sweet lake of Galilee. The hearers of the speakers words were a great multitude, gathered along the water-side within sound of the gentle-voiced prophet of Nazareth. Standing, or, in many instances, sitting or lying on the ground for many of them had come from farthey listened to his lessons; simple in language as the grass which grew about them; picturesque with colors caught from the passing moment and the present scene. Behind them stretched and rose the slopes of cultured hills; before them spread the quiet waters of the lake. The whole scene is summer-like. The speakers words are summer-like no less. For every parable which Mark records as uttered thereand there are several of themis of the sowing or the growth of seeds. They might have been borrowed, every one, from objects before the speakers eye. The preachers subject was the coming of the kingdom of God. The coming, that is, of the time when the Divine light, and love, and will, shall thoroughly fill the world. The time when all that he elsewhere defines true religion to belove to God and love to man, piety and brotherhoodshall be the possession of all muankind.

1888.] Address at Yale Theological Anniversary. 37 ADDRESS AT THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE YALE DIVINITY SCHOOL, MAY 16TH, 1888. Gentlemen of this Divinity School: ]%strmctors and Scholars: THE line of thought I shall follow on this occasion is sug- gested by the words of the Master to be found in the fourth chapter of Marks gospel, the twenty-eighth verse, as follows: First the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear. These are wonderfully simple words with which to set forth the grandest of all processes and eventsthe coming of the kingdom of God. Yet these are the words which He who knew most about that kingdoms nature and growth chose to employ, to tell men how it is to come. The Master was speaking under the blue canopy of a Syrian sky. He was seated in a little boat moored just oft the strand of the sweet lake of Galilee. The hearers of the speakers words were a great multitude, gathered along the water-side within sound of the gentle-voiced prophet of Nazareth. Standing, or, in many instances, sitting or lying on the ground for many of them had come from farthey listened to his lessons; simple in language as the grass which grew about them; picturesque with colors caught from the passing moment and the present scene. Behind them stretched and rose the slopes of cultured hills; before them spread the quiet waters of the lake. The whole scene is summer-like. The speakers words are summer-like no less. For every parable which Mark records as uttered thereand there are several of themis of the sowing or the growth of seeds. They might have been borrowed, every one, from objects before the speakers eye. The preachers subject was the coming of the kingdom of God. The coming, that is, of the time when the Divine light, and love, and will, shall thoroughly fill the world. The time when all that he elsewhere defines true religion to belove to God and love to man, piety and brotherhoodshall be the possession of all muankind. 38 Address at Yale Theological Anniversary. [July, And how was that coming to be? Nay how had its pro- gress hitherto been, for from of old this kingdom had been in progress. It was no new thing the preacher was telling abont. God from the worlds very beginning had been working at this enterprise. So is the kingdom of God, he says. First the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear. ilere before yonr eyesin effect he declaresin these green fields about yon, yon have a symbol of that process which is to bring in the final paradise. This stalk of wheat typifies it. First the blade, then the ear. The light from of old has been shining in the world. And still and with increasing bright- ness this light shines. And the darkness will comprehend it more and more. For the manifestation of that God whom no man hath at any time seen is as the growth of a seed. The knowledge of him in the world is like leaven working in the measure of meal. The love of him grows like the reaching forth into the wider air of the branches that shelter the birds of heaven. For there is first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear. I wish now, my friends, to call your attention to three things. I wish yon to notice a little more definitely the symbol itself which Christ employs. Then I wish you to glance with me at some rapid illustrations of the truthfulness of this symbol as manifested in religions history hitherto. And then I want you to cooperate with me in gaining some instruction for present and future benefit snggestcd by it. First, then, the symbol itselfthe growing of a grain of wheat. The learning of all ages cannot explain its mystery. Art never contrived a secret so close as that hid in that little brown seed dropped, ahuost invisible, into the gronud. But look what happens! Out of the inanimate clay comes np the pale and timorous blade; a little scarce-seen thread on the damp spring soil; yet it holds within it that inscrutable power which no research can discoverthe principle of life. Life! The word is easy to speak, but what it is we know not. God lives we say. Man lives, and, as we say, dies too. A tree is alive or dead. But what it is which lives in grass blade or the soul of man is alike nukuown. But anyway the wheat-plant 1888.] Address at Yali? Theological Anniversary. 39 lives. Summer lifts it to freer air. Summer lengthens and joints the growing stalk; unfolds to the wind the waving blade; crowns the whole with the bearded ear prophetic of harvest to come. It is in the close-wrapped folds of that bristling ear that all the purpose of the plant is hid. Autumn shows this at last. The tiny, embryonic point hidden in the ear swells and rounds and hardens to the seed. The little, formless thing for which the plant had lived becomes the perfect grain; holding in it- self the mystery of reproductive life, and able to hand on that mystery of re-vivifying being to a thousand generations to come. This little grain, then, is the true object of the plant. The blade reached upward for it. The ear folded itself close to shelter it. When it was perfected, stalk and ear decayed. They were but its servants. They the less; it the greater. They the means; it the end. Yet very likely a superficial eye might have thought other- wise. The blade and the ear seemed more beautiful and per- haps more important. They were attractive in themselves. They had a loveliness of their own. They seemed for awhile, more than the grain, to be the object of the plant. But the mute confession of the decaying blade, and stalk, and ear is that they live but for the grain. The lesser passes, while the greater abides. The relative drops away; the essential en- dures. The means are obsolete when the end is secured. So is the kingdom of God. There, toosaid the preacher by the green fields of the lakethere too holds the same law. First the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear. So much for the simple but wonderful symbol itself. I invite you now to notice how truly these words do illustrate the unfolding hitherto of that kingdom of God which has been growing in the world. See, for one moment, how they illus- trate that feature of the kingdoms growth, found in a better knowledge of the Being of God himself. The seed of the knowledge of God was planted in Eden. That was a good soil, and had the plant grown to its ripeness there, how great might have been the harvest! But when it was cast forth into the wilderness, it found but a rocky and barren ground. Still there was life in it. 40 Addre8s at Yale Theological Anniver8ary. [July, All through the Patriarchal agesthe spring time of our religious historythe blade was struggling up. Those first fathers of men kuew somethiug of God. Euoch aud Methu- selah much. Yet God is known only as he reveals himself. Aud it is by his acts largely that he reveals himself. Comparatively little therefore could he be kuown; for coin- paratively few of those great moral acts by which we kuow God were knowu by meu in that April time. Yet the blade grew! The iNoachian deluge, with its mighty lesson about siu, was to this plant of the knowledge of God like a very rain of May. How it had increased when the sun broke out again! Those long soft days of Abrahams, and of Isaacs, and of Jacobs timethen grew well the strengthening blade. Abra- ham from Moriahs top saw even in vision the perfect ear. But better still were the hot Egyptian and Arabian airs to quicken this plant. When God went before Israel in a pillar of fire; when he cleft the sea; when he smote the rock; when the opening earth swallowed Dathan and his troop; when Sinai thundered or when Jordan parted to keep covenant with Israels entrance to the promised land, how grew in mens minds the knowledge of God! A God of Power; a God of Holiness; yet a God of love and faithfulness too. Men knew him better than before. And so down through prophetic and kingly times: from David at once king and prophet also, to Jehoiakim under whom Judah was carried to far Babylon; and Daniel and Ezekiel who in that distant land still told of a kingdom yet to be, how wonderfully in all these times was the knowledge of God growing among men! Surely the blade was lifting toward the ear! But when did the ear disclose itself? We cannot mistake the time. It was when He came and spoke, who now beside the Galilean lake told what was the law of the kingdoms growth. When he spokenot as Moses had done and as Israel generally had believed, of a God of Jews onlybut of a God and Friend of all men everywhere. Of a God who was a Father. Of a Son who was also God. Of God the blessed Comforter abiding with men forever. It was while he lived his lofty and simple life; it was when 1888.] Address at Yale Theolo~icai Anniversary. 41 he died his mysterious and redeeming death, that the crown- ing ear came forth upon this plant of time, and the wheat grains shaped themselves in its folded heart. And all the ages since that day have been only a later summer to perfect the grain. Days of the Holy Ghost. Calm August of the Coin- forter. Days ripening and rounding out the thought of God in all mankind. Look back and see the change! Our thought of God and Enochs thoughthow different, yet the same! The blade and ear are different, but one plant. We call not with Moses on the indistinguishable One. No! by the Son it is we conic unto the Father, led by the Holy Ghost. Yet Moses God is our God. Not ours only. This is the knowledge of the being of God which is going out through all the earth. This patri- archal blade, this prophetic stalk, this Christian ear and grain, is to be the knowledge of every family of man. The plant of Edens conception of God the Creator, has ripened to Christen- doms conception of the Triune Father, Redeemer, and Sancti- fier of mankind. And can we tell the process of this growth of the knowledge of God among men, in any truer phrase than that the Master used: First the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear? Even so, he says, comes on the kingdom of heaven. Or take another example of the truthfulness of Christs symbol: The growth in men of the understanding of Gods law. Doubtless some knowledge of Gods law was with men from the beginning. Paul speaks truly when he says man was made under the law. Physical laws of mans own being there were of course always. Moral intuitions and sanctions of conscience~ there must have been from the first. And some outward and positive requirementshowever communicated surely were recognized as imposed by God in the earliest times. But it is very difficnlt for us, after all, to discover precisely what perceptions of Divine Law the Patriarchal fathers had. Through those long generations from Seth to Abrahamwhich common chronology counts as upward of twenty centuries this plant of the divine knowledge seems to have had a growth as hard to discern as that of the wheat grain when first it struggles upward to a tiny blade. 42 Addre8s at Yale ]i~4eologieal Aflniver8ary. [July, There have been however, since that Abrahamic houritself an hour of unwonted revelation on this mattertwo great periods when this plant of the knowledge of Gods law made sudden and vigorous growth. One of these periods was when, in the valleys underneath Arabias quaking mountain, this feeble blade shot up in a day toward the bearded ear. That was indeed the period of the plants external glory. Then statute was piled upon statute. Then the whole life of the Hebrew was hedged about by com- mandments. A thus saith the Lord was written on every utensil of his house, on every circumstance of his behavior. There was this requirement for a theft, this for a vow, this for the accidental touch of a dead body, or a bone dropped by the wayside. The new moon had its legislative enactments, and so had sowing time and harvest. This was a state of things fitted doubtless to important uses, but raw and temporary ones. Majestic and imposing, it had for its single end the purpose of training men up to the knowl- edge of a law more spiritual; and, compared with what pre- ceded it, undemonstrative and invisible. And when did that ripe grain disclose itself ~ We know the time! It was when God and his law became manifest in Christ. It was when he rent the husk of old Hebrew cere- monial, and scattered its chaff to the winds. It was when he promulgated the law, not of Mount Sinai but of Mount Olivet; not of Judaism but of Christianity; not of endless prohibi- tions and commands concerning outward matters, but one whose simple provisions penetrate the invisible places of the heart. How wonderful yet how potent the change! The old law said, Thou shalt have no other Gods before me. The new law said, Our Father which art in Heaven. The old law said, Thou shalt not swear, or steal, or kill; wash your hands before you sacrifice; put off your shoes when you draw nigh the tabernacle ; pay a tithe of all you possess. The new law said, with all comprehending simplicity, IBe perfect even as your father in heaven is perfect. This was the full corn in the ear. The blade of patriarchal rule had withered, and the husk of Mosaic statutes had dropped away, but the grain for which they had lived remains, the bread of the Christian world. 1888.] Addres8 at Yale Theological Annive~8ary. 43 And with this new conception of law came also a new con- ception of obedience. The old Hebrew trembled as he took his goat or lamb to the priest lest some nndiscovered blemish shonld vitiate his offering. Or perhaps he might have tonched some nnclean person in the throng. Not a rag that flnttered in the air bnt might bring him defilement. Now how changed! How open the way to God, when the invitation is, whosoever will, let him come. How confident the bringer of the hearts loving offeringbe it great or small when it is read: If there be first a willing mind it is accepted according to that a man hath, and not according to that he hath not. Then too that other table of obedience, Thon shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. Not now is there one law of kindness for the Hebrew brother of onr blood, and another for the stranger within onr gates. No more is there any Moabite or Ammonite nnder sentence never to enter the congregation of onr Israel. The fellowship of men is no longer an inference from snch commands as bid ns not to steal oi~ kill Ah, rather see how the fnll grain of this plant of brotherhood gladdens already the hnngry of a hnndred lands! See how the new principle translates itself into the living experience of the world! Feet it is to the lame; eyes it is to the blind;. strength it is to the weak; wits it is to the feeble-minded; comfort to the suffering of every race. And still the plant grows! And so will it grow more and more. Its ripening and harvesting is bnt jnst begnn. The blade and stalk of Moses lawthat was certainly im- posing in his days. IBnt the fnll corn of the lawthe nplift- ing of the loving heart to a loving God, and the life of ont- going endeavor for ones fellow menthat is the beanty of onr time and the glory of onr fntnre. So, says the Master, so is the kingdom of heaven. Or notice as one more illnstration of the trnth of Christs symbol in the past of hnman experiencethe thonght of worship. We will pass by the nncertain beginnings of this growth in early Scriptnre times, and come at once to the period when the plant of worship shot np into a luxuriant blade. God had doubtless before, in some way, gnided individnalsAbel, Noah, 44 Addre& ~ at Yale Theological Anniver8ary. [July, Abraham. Now he undertook to instruct a race how rightly to worship him. And how did he do it? The imposing array of appliances shows the difficulty of the task. Look into the gorgeous ritual established in the Levitical code designed to captivate the imaginatk~n and hold the allegiance of a fickle multitude who were to be won to the grave and uncongenial duty of the wor- ship of God. Behold the glory of the tabernacle, with its volumed folds of purple and scarlet tapestries, wrought with all manner of cunning needle work. See the ark, overlaid with gold, and over-shadowed by the wings of the golden cherubim. Remember the Altarwhether in the tabernacle or the temple which succeeded the tabernacle the altar whereon burned the ever-lighted flame of perpetual offerings. Behold the clouds of incense. See the procession of splen- didly attired ministrants. Observe the expectant throng, awaiting the coming out from behind the veil of an anointed man,sole man of all the nation permitted to enter there. Most impressive certainly, and in parts most beautiful! But what now, underneath this pomp of lusty blade and stalk was the inward principlethe little seed grain, which was the object of it all? We can scarcely find it wrapped about by the beautiful husk and canopied by the flowing leaf. But it is there. Weak, unseen almost, it lies within all this gor- geousness and show. And what is it? Ages were required to give the answer. All the long summer of Israels kingly and prophetic times must pass. All the chill autumn of those four hundred years when history was closed and prophecy was silent, must also go. Then at last the full corn dropped from the rent and scattered ear. In this mountain, said the Samaritan. Only at Jerusalem, said the Jew. Nay, said the Master, not in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem. God is a spirit and they that worship him, must worship in spirit and in truth. That was the full corn, the bread of Christendom forever. Some, indeed, still seem more to admire the stalk than the grain. Some unable to reach to the Masters idea of worship in the spirit only, revert to aids and symbols of religion~ s weaker time. Vestments and rituals are a help to such. 1888.] Address at Yale Theological Anniversary. 45 Southward or eastward posture is a solemn question. The color and texture of an altar cloth is only something less than a point of saving faith. Or the amount of water in a baptism is a sufficient excuse for a denomination. Or the distinction between a ruling and a non-ruling elder justifies a sect. But the thought of worship Christ expressed can dispense with religions childish things. Nay it can dispense with a great deal of the husk which still wraps about the freest of all our Christian lives. The whole earth is the altar of our sacri- fice. Heavens blue canopy is the curtain of our tabernacle. Where we kneel, in every placeby night or noon, on the mountain or in the closet~ together or alonethere the She- kinah of the presence is, there Christ is with us to the end of the world. For there is first the blade, but at last there comes the full corn in the ear. Having now considered Christs symbol, and glanced at some illustrations of its truthfulness in setting forth certain features of the progress of the Kingdom of God in the past, let us turn now, in accordance with our design, to see what instructions for present and future benefit we may gain. And one instruction is that of Christian anticipation and faith. These words of Christ, First the blade then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear, suggest a glorious prophecy of future development of the Kingdom of God. I have, indeed, from time to time in this discourse spoken of one or another feature of religions present aspect as being the full corn for which the past has lived. And so indeed it is, when the past only is taken into view. But the Kingdom of God is not finished yet. There is a fuller corn which is still to gladden the earth. The story of redemption is not yet wholly told. The book of religion has many an unturned page. We have seen how the plant of religion has grown and altered hitherto. We saw its feeble upspringing in patriarchal days. We saw its lush and showy growth in the Mosaic ritual. The husk of Levitical forms dropped away with the advent of the Master. But did the development of religion cease with His coming ? Did divine truth cast itself in fixed nioulds in the preachers words; understood at once; nuder- 46 Addre& s at Yale 77~eologieal Anniversary. [July, stood fully; understood changelessly? Was the form and image of the church fixed then unalterably, as a fossil plant sealed up in the rocks for6ver? Were the duties and privileges of Christians then set down in immutable and complete detail? In a word was this promise of the Holy Ghost as a guide into this truth, as a teacher of the church forever, rendered nuga- tory before it was given? Let the plainest facts of Christian history answer! How this Body of Christ has altered in garb, and changed in features, and lifted and transformed its aspect as it has traveled down the centuries! Jerome, Chrysostom, Augustine, Aquinas, Anselrn, Luther, Owen, Edwards, saw they the same unaltered form, as they looked on religion in their successive days? Yes, as he who sees a child, and then the man, sees the same form; as lie who sees the blade and the full ear, sees the same plant; so, and no otherwise. y\There, for exams Ic, do ~e look for a clear comprehension of one of the plainest of Christs instructionsthe law of uni- versal philanthropy? To Peter whom a thrice-repeated heav- enly vision could hardly convince that God could rant unto Gentiles repentance unto life ? To the church of Constan- tine, when the arm of State was the instrmuent of conversion To the ages of medi~val Christianitypassionate, intense, self- sacrificing willing to lavish treasure and life to fight the Saracens; never thinking of spending a penny to convert them? Has not the plant of Christian love shot up TaPd in the lifetime of some gathered here to-day with a growth un- known before? India. China, Islands of the Pacific, say! Nor is it practical Christianity only which has unfolded. Doctrinal Christianity has changed as well. Not indeed that the body of divine truth itselfabstractly or as contained in Scripturechanges. This hardly needs to be said. But in these days of theological sensitiveness it may be well enough to say it. Gods truth is ever the same and the Bible is always authority upon it. But mens understanding of what is truth, al4d of what the Bible really affirms, alters inevitably in suc- cessive years. Do any of you, for exam plc, when you mueditate on the work your Saviour wrought for you, think of it as time Church 1888.~ Addre8s at Yale ]i7ieoloqical Anniver8ary. 47 of Origens day, and onward for seven centuries, thought of it? Do you think your Savionr entered into compact with Satan to become his slave as the condition of your ransom, and then broke his agreement and outwitted Satan in the bargain? Had you lived in Alexandria you would have been excommunicated if you had not thought so; in Rome six centuries later you might have been burned. Doctrine, duty, polity, and Christian life, all have under- gone successive changes from age to age. Mens comprehen- sion of Gods eternal plan has altered less or more with every generation which has pondered it. And in the light of so in- contestable a truth, why wall we up the d3orways of the future? Even if we put the word of prophecy concerning this fact aside, what could be more probablelooking at the analogy of the pastthan that the same law will have its way? But when, added to the suggestions of experience, we take into view the bright predictions of Gods word, what wonderful unfoldings of divine things may we not anticipate in coming years? Things are notwhatever a Judaizing and pessimistic pietisili may affirmthings are not on the edge of dissolution and dooni. They are growing and ripening still. Another instruction it seems we might profitably gain is oiie of humility and trust in watching and working for the king- doms approach. Suppose, for illustrations sake, that I amwhat we all ought to bea watcher and worker for the kingdom of God. flow am I to feel? What am I to do? Let the unfolding of a grain of wheat instinct me. The man who gave me the seed told me certain things of it, partly apparently to guide my expectations and partly to direct my behavior. He said, first the blade, theii the ear, afterward the full corn in the ear. This then is the blade ; this pale green shoot, showing hourly a deeper green and lifting daily into freer air. But how powerless I am before this young plant! How little I understand it after all. Some things I may indeed do for it give it light, and water, stir the soil about it, and the weeds away which threaten its welfare. But how it grows I cannot tell; what its next change will be I cannot foresee. The man 48 A ddre88 at Yale Theological Anniver8ary. [July, said an ear would follow the blade, but what that is like I cannot tell. I can only wait and see. And while I watch, the ear comesthe crown of bristling cones. I can scarcely re- cognize the plant, and yet it is the same. One single life, through changes manifold. And not a change in vain. I see no tokens of mistake anywhere. And the man said the corn would come in the ear. I am waiting to see. And as you and I, my friends, await the coming of that kingdom which the Master said was like this growing of the grain of wheat, we too have some impressive suggestions as to the attitude in which we wait and work. We are reminded that the kingdom of God is one. A single life runs through it all. Under all its changes works a power which alters not the divine design. And there does not appear to be any arbitrary or sudden break. I see no indica- tion of failure anywhere. The dispensation of the Patriarchs served its day. I do not see how it could have been bettered for its time. The dispensation of Mosaic law and ceremony served its end. We can partly discern its fitness and necessity. And the dispensation of the life of Christastounding and ever glorious efliorescence of the plant of the kingdomthis, certainly, could no more completely fulfil its purpose than it did. And the dispensation of the Holy Ghost in the midst whereof we stand,--what a wonderful period is this! I do not like to hear that it has failed, or will probably fail. IDoes any one know exactly what is the might of the Holy Ghost? Can any one surely say it is a might adequate to this result, but not adequate to that? It may renew a soul, but may not renew a world? 0 Infinite and on-moving Power! We fathom not, nor dare we limit thy unexhausted strength. We look with joy and trust to thy might in leading on, surely and apace, the latter day glory of the kingdom of God! And it is on that power also that we rely in the patient and strenuous endeavor which is our part in this great enterprise. For we have a part also. What is our part? Our part is not restless struggle to re- produce a by-gone, or to anticipate an unarrived period of the kingdoms progress. Not in plucking apart the unripe ear in haste for the grain. But in watching and cherishing the plant 1888.] Addres8 at Yale Theoloaical Anniver8ary. 49 of Gods grace wherever visible in the world. In digging about its roots, and opening the soil for the heavenly rain. In earing for its welfare on the broad fields of Christian enter- prise, or in the narrow field of personal devotion. Gentlemen of this Theological Seminary, and you especially, my young friends, jnst entering on the work of the gospel ministry, to you is, in a manner, peculiarly given the divine function of the tillage of the plant of the kingdom in this evil world. This high, sacred, benign employment in which so many of the good and great of past generations have found their noblest occnpation and most satisfying joy, is to be the employ- ment of yonr lives. Called to it we trust by the Spirit of God; prepared for it in some measure by study of truth and by experience of grace, set high, I beseech you, the mark of your expectation and endeavor. Ah, the divinely glorious mission of a true gospel husband- man! Who of us has ever reached an adequate estimate of its exalted privileges, or the dignity of its appointed work? Suffer the word of exhortation which urges on yor ~ truer conception of its sacred aim. To a complete consecration of yourselves to its objects I entreat you to be personally dedi- cated. More and more seek to make the ministry of grace in your hands all that it was meant to be for a sinning and suffer- ing world. By individual effort, by united endeavor, by a dedication to it which grows daily more like Christs, watch and tend, and cultivate, the plant of righteousness; till at last, its appointed changes all fulfilled, whether in the individual or the collective life, the ear succeeding to the blade, the full corn ripening in the ear, in Gods set time, the wheat be garnered, aud the harvesters rejoice together in the kingdom of heaven. GEO. LEON WALKER. voL. xiii. 4 50 Current Literature. [July, CURRENT LITERATURE. HEARTSEASE AND RuE.*~To the reader who is quick to appre- hend, there is in each one of the works of a writer of genius a subtle flavor which marks the particular period in which it was written. One who can read between the lines, always finds his interest heightened as he detects the effects of the life-experiences of an author as they are displayed in each new volume. There is usually something about a first production, in any department of litera- ture, however able it may be, which marks it as a maiden effort. Perhaps it may be only the careful precision of the style that gives it whatever of peculiar charm it may have. There is a flavor, also, which is found in the later productions of a writer, which be- longs to the period when he has all his powers well in hand, when his experiences of life are fully rounded, and he handles his themes with the confidence of a veteran. All this is especially true of the works of a poet. In reading poetry there is a still further delight, if, in addition to the flavor of which we have spoken, the reader finds that the flowers, from which the poet has collected the ma- terial that he has distilled into sweetest honey, have grown in the familiar fields that he has himself long known. We may well be grateful to the poet who is able by his genius to invest evermore the scenes and characters, the thoughts and sentiments which are dear to us, with new interest and beauty. There is a decided flavor, such as that of which we have spoken, which is to be found in the new volume of poems lleartsease and Rue which Mr. James Russell Lowell has just given to the public. We owed much before to this veteran in so many depart- ments of literature. We will not undertake to say that in this last book he has surpassed anything he has written before, but there are here such marks of ripeness of power, of genial mellow- ness of feeling, that we are s~ire the volume will be welcomed in thousands of our American homes as a friend. But in addition to this, the themes are thoroughly American, and are treated in a spirit that is so thoroughly American, that they will awaken a response in the heart of all who read his lines. * Hearisease and Rue. By JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. Houghton, Muffin & Co. Boston: l2mo, pp. 218.

50 Current Literature. [July, CURRENT LITERATURE. HEARTSEASE AND RuE.*~To the reader who is quick to appre- hend, there is in each one of the works of a writer of genius a subtle flavor which marks the particular period in which it was written. One who can read between the lines, always finds his interest heightened as he detects the effects of the life-experiences of an author as they are displayed in each new volume. There is usually something about a first production, in any department of litera- ture, however able it may be, which marks it as a maiden effort. Perhaps it may be only the careful precision of the style that gives it whatever of peculiar charm it may have. There is a flavor, also, which is found in the later productions of a writer, which be- longs to the period when he has all his powers well in hand, when his experiences of life are fully rounded, and he handles his themes with the confidence of a veteran. All this is especially true of the works of a poet. In reading poetry there is a still further delight, if, in addition to the flavor of which we have spoken, the reader finds that the flowers, from which the poet has collected the ma- terial that he has distilled into sweetest honey, have grown in the familiar fields that he has himself long known. We may well be grateful to the poet who is able by his genius to invest evermore the scenes and characters, the thoughts and sentiments which are dear to us, with new interest and beauty. There is a decided flavor, such as that of which we have spoken, which is to be found in the new volume of poems lleartsease and Rue which Mr. James Russell Lowell has just given to the public. We owed much before to this veteran in so many depart- ments of literature. We will not undertake to say that in this last book he has surpassed anything he has written before, but there are here such marks of ripeness of power, of genial mellow- ness of feeling, that we are s~ire the volume will be welcomed in thousands of our American homes as a friend. But in addition to this, the themes are thoroughly American, and are treated in a spirit that is so thoroughly American, that they will awaken a response in the heart of all who read his lines. * Hearisease and Rue. By JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. Houghton, Muffin & Co. Boston: l2mo, pp. 218.

50 Current Literature. [July, CURRENT LITERATURE. HEARTSEASE AND RuE.*~To the reader who is quick to appre- hend, there is in each one of the works of a writer of genius a subtle flavor which marks the particular period in which it was written. One who can read between the lines, always finds his interest heightened as he detects the effects of the life-experiences of an author as they are displayed in each new volume. There is usually something about a first production, in any department of litera- ture, however able it may be, which marks it as a maiden effort. Perhaps it may be only the careful precision of the style that gives it whatever of peculiar charm it may have. There is a flavor, also, which is found in the later productions of a writer, which be- longs to the period when he has all his powers well in hand, when his experiences of life are fully rounded, and he handles his themes with the confidence of a veteran. All this is especially true of the works of a poet. In reading poetry there is a still further delight, if, in addition to the flavor of which we have spoken, the reader finds that the flowers, from which the poet has collected the ma- terial that he has distilled into sweetest honey, have grown in the familiar fields that he has himself long known. We may well be grateful to the poet who is able by his genius to invest evermore the scenes and characters, the thoughts and sentiments which are dear to us, with new interest and beauty. There is a decided flavor, such as that of which we have spoken, which is to be found in the new volume of poems lleartsease and Rue which Mr. James Russell Lowell has just given to the public. We owed much before to this veteran in so many depart- ments of literature. We will not undertake to say that in this last book he has surpassed anything he has written before, but there are here such marks of ripeness of power, of genial mellow- ness of feeling, that we are s~ire the volume will be welcomed in thousands of our American homes as a friend. But in addition to this, the themes are thoroughly American, and are treated in a spirit that is so thoroughly American, that they will awaken a response in the heart of all who read his lines. * Hearisease and Rue. By JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. Houghton, Muffin & Co. Boston: l2mo, pp. 218. 1888.1 Current Literatuspe. 51 The Poems are arranged under the following heads: I. Friend- ship.II. Sentiment.JII. Fancy.JV. Humor and Satire.V. Epigrams. The themes of the Poems of Friendship are enough of them- selves to attract attention. Among them are the carefully finished tributes of Mr. Lowells appreciation and love of such men as Agassiz, Holmes, Jeifries Wyman, Whittier, and George William Curtis ,in every way worthy of the men. The poem written in Florence, in 1874, on hearing of the death of Agassiz, is so beauti- ful that we shall take the liberty of calling the attention of our readers to it. The Poem opens with a brief reference to the ocean telegraph, and the rapidity with which it spreads over the whole world in- telligence of all that happens. The flame-winged feet Of Trades new Mercury, that dry-shod run Through briny abysses dreamless of the sun, Are mercilessly fleet. We are then reminded that formerly the ocean gave a short reprieve , to those on one side of it, who were to hear ill news from the other; and in this delay there was an advantage, for tidings, when they came by letter, were then announced less abruptly. Surely ill news might wait, And man be patient of delay to grieve: Letters have sympathies And tell-tale faces that reveal, To senses finer than the eyes, Their errands purport ere we break the seal; They wind a sorrow round with circumstance To stay its feet, nor all unwarned displace The veil that darkened from our sidelong glance The inexorable face: But now Fate stuns as with a mace; The savage of the skies, tbat men have caught, And some scant use of language taught, Tells only what he must, The steel-cold fact in one laconic thrust. Such were the poets thoughts as he took up the morning paper in a far-off Italian city, and he describes the feelings with which he began to run over its columns. 52 Current literature. [July, So thought I, as, with vague, mechanic eyes, I scanned the festering news we half despise Yet scramble for no less, And read of public scandal, private fraud, Crime flaunting scot-free while the mob applaud, Office made vile to bribe unworthiness, And all the unwholesome mess The Land of Honest Abraham serves of late To teach the Old World how to wait, When suddenly, As happens if the brain, from overweight Of blood, infect the eye, Three tiny words grew lurid as I read, And reeled commingling: Agassiz is dead. Then As when, beneath the streets familiar jar, An earthquakes alien omen rumbles far, Men listen and forebode, I hung my head, And strove the present to recall, As if the blow that stunned were yet to fall. We quote a few lines here and there from his description of the thoughts that came to him. Uprooted is our mountain oak, That promised long security of shade. * * * A mortal, built upon the antique plan, Brimful of lusty blood as ever ran, And taking life as simply as a tree! * * * He by the touch of men was best inspired, And caught his native greatness at rebound From generosities itseh had fired; Then how the heat tbrough every fibre ran, Felt in the gathering presence of the man, While the apt word and gesture came unbid! Virtues and faults it to one metal wrought, Fined all his blood to thought, And ran the molten man in all he said or did. All Tullys rules and all Quintilians too He by the light of listening faces knew, And his rapt audience all unconscious lent Their own roused force to make him eloquent; Persuasion fondled in his look and tone; Our speech (with strangers prudish) he could bring To find new charm in accents not her own; Her coy constraints and icy hindrances 1888.] Current literature. 53 Melted upon his lips to natural ease, As a brooks fetters swell the dance of spring. Nor yet all sweetness: not in vain he wore, Nor in the sheath of ceremony, controlled By velvet courtesy or caution cold, That sword of honest anger prized of old, But, with two-handed wrath, If baseness or pretension crossed his path, Struck once nor needed to strike more. At last, all is summed up in what may be considered to be the American idea of a gentleman. His magic was not far to seek, He was so human! Whether strong or weak, Far from his kind he neither sank nor soared, But sate an equal guest at every board: No beggar ever felt him condescend, No prince presume; for still himself he bare At manhoods simple level, and whereer He meet a stranger, there he left a friend. How large an aspect! nobly unsevere, With freshness round him of Olympian cheer, Like visits of those earthly gods he came; His look, wherever its good-fortune fell, Doubled the feast without a miracle, And on the hearthstone danced a happier flame; Philemons crabbed vintage grew benign; Amphitryons gold-juice humanized to wine. What we have quoted might well suffice to lead those who have not yet read the poem, to go to the book itself for the whole, yet we cannot persuade ourselves to omit some reference to the picture which he adds of the Atlantic Club, of which Agassiz was a member. Of itself, this is a choice contribution to our American literature. I see in vision the warm-lighted hall, The living and the dead I see again, And but my chair is empty; mid them all ~T is I that seem the dead: they all remain Immortal, changeless creatures of the brain: Wellnigh I doubt which world is real most, Of sense or spirit, to the truly sane; In this abstraction it were light to deem Myself the figment of some stronger dream; They are the real things, and I the ghost That glide unhindered through the solid door, Vainly for recognition seek from chair to chair, And strive to speak and am but futile air, As truly most of us are little more. 54 Cmr~~ent Literature. [July, A description of the various members of this famous club follows: of Emerson, of Hawthorne, of Arthur Hugh Clough, of Cornelius Felton, of Whittier, and others, but we have room only for the lines in which reference is made to Agassiz himself. Him most I see whom we most dearly miss, The latest parted thence, His features poised in genial armistice And armed neutrality of self-defence Beneath the foreheads walled pre~minence, While Tyro, plucking facts with careless reach, Settles off-hand our human how and whence; The long-trained veteran scarcely wincing hears The infallible strategy of volunteers Making through Natures walls its easy breach, And seems to learn where he alone could teach. Ample and ruddy, the boards end he fills As he our fireside were, our light and heat, Centre where minds diverse and various skills Find their warm nook and stretch unhampered feet; I see the firm benignity of face, Wide-smiling champaign, without tameness sweet, The mass Teutonic toned to Gallic grace, The eyes whose sunshine runs before the lips While Holmess rockets curve their long ellipse, And burst in seeds of fire that burst again To drop in scintillating rain. As a fit close, we add the hues which describe the separation of the members of the club, and the walk home of the poet witlf the distinguished naturalist. Now forth into the darkness all are gone, But memory, still unsated, follows on, Retracing step by step our homeward walk, With many a laugh among our serious talk, Across the bridge where, on the dimpling tide, The long red streamers from the windows glide, Or the dim western moon Rocks her skiffs image on the broad lagoon, And Boston shows a soft Venetian side In that Arcadian light when roof and tree, Hard prose by daylight, dream in Italy; Or haply in the skys cold chambers wide Shivered the winter stars, while all below, As if an end were come of human ill, The world was wrapt in innocence of snow And the cast-iron bay was blind and still; 1888.] Current Literature. 55 What is more beautiful than the parting of the friends at the street corner in Boston, where their ways diverge? Still can I hear his voices shrilling might (With pauses broken, while the fitful spark He blew more hotly rounded on the dark To hint his features with a Rembrandt light) Call Oken back, or Humboldt, or Lamarck, Or Cuviers taller shade, and many more Whom he had seen, or knew from others sight, And make them men to me as neer before: Not seldom, as the undeadened fibre stirred Of noble friendships knit beyond the sea, German or French thrust by the lagging word, For a good leash of mother-tongues had he. At last, arrived at where our paths divide, Good night! and, ere the distance grew too wide, Good night! again; and now with cheated ear I half hear his who mine shall never hear. In the poetical preface to the volume, we are told. Along the wayside where we pass bloom few Gay plants of heartsease, more of saddening rue; So life is mingled; so should poems be That speak a conscious word to you and ~ After dwelling on these plants of saddening rue, it seems almost irreverent to pass to the Poems of Humor, of which there are several which are really exquisite. But, alas! so is life mingled. Fitz Adams Story, as a picture of the New Englander of the back woods, is unsurpassed. In poetry, it will serve as a com- panion piece to that admirable novel of Mr. Russells brother, The new Priest of Conception Bay, which, we are glad to notice, has just been republished in Boston. Who has not seen Ezra the landlord of the Eagleinn? When first I chanced the Eagle to explore, Ezra sat listless by the open door; One chair careened him at an angle meet, Another nursed his hugely-slippered feet; Upon a third reposed a shirt-sleeved arm, And the whole man diffused tobaccos charm. Are you the landlord? Wahl, I guess I be, Watching the smoke, he answered leisurely. He was a stoutish man, and through the breast Of his loose shirt there showed a brambly chest; 56 Gu~ent Literature,. [July, Streaked redly as a wind-foreboding morn, His tanned cheeks curved to temples closely shorn; Clean-shaved he was, save where a hedge of gray Upon his brawny throat leaned every way About an Adams-apple, that beneath Bulged like a boulder from a brambly heath. The Western Worlds true child and nursling he, Equipt with aptitudes enough for three: What more true to nature than this conversation? Can I have lodging here? once more I said. He blew a whiff, and, leaning back his head, You come a piece through Baileys woods, I spose, Acrost a bridge where a big sxvamp-oak grows? It dont grow, neither; it s ben dead ten year, Nor th aint a livin creetur, fur nor near, Can tell wut killed it; but I some misdoubt T was borers, theres sech heaps on em about. You did n chance to run aginst my son, A long, slab-sided youngster with a gun? He d oughto ben back more n an hour ago, An brought some birds to dress for suppersho! There he comes now. Say, Obed, wut ye got? (He 11 hey some upland plover like as not.) Wal, them s real nice uns, an 11 eat A 1, Ef I can stop their bein over-done; Nothin riles me (I pledge my fastin word) Like cookin out the natur of a bird; (Obed, you pick em out o sight an sound. Your maam dont love no feathers cluttrin round;) Jes scare em with the coals,thet s my idee. Then, turning suddenly about on me, Wal, Square, I guess so. Callilate to stay? Ill ask Mis Weeks; bout thet it s hem to say. Who has not seen the inns parlor? There was a parlor in the house, a room To make you shudder with its prudish gloom. The furniture stood round with such an air, There seemed an old maids ghost in every chair, Which looked as it had scuttled to its place And pulled extempore a Sunday face, Too smugly proper for a world of sin, Like boys on whom the minister comes in. The table, fronting you with icy stare, Strove to look witless that its legs were bare, While the black sofa with its horse-hair pall Gloomed like a bier -for Comforts funeral. 1888.] Current literature. 57 Each piece appeared to do its chilly best To seem an utter stranger to the rest, As if acquaintanceship were deadly sin, Like Britons meeting in a foreign inn. Two portraits graced the wall in grimmest truth, Mister and Mistress W. in their youth, New England youth, that seems a sort of pill, Half wish-I-dared, half Edwards on the Will, Bitter to swallow, and which leaves a trace Of Calvinistic cholic on the face. Between them, oer the mantel, hung in state Solomons temple, done in copperplate; Invention pure, but meant, we may presume, To give some Scripture sanction to the room. Facing this last, two samplers you might see, Each, with its urn and stiffly-weeping tree, Devoted to some memory long ago More faded than their lines of worsted woe; Cut paper decked their frames against the flies, Though none eer dared an entrance who were wise, And bushed asparagus in fading green Added its shiver to the franklin clean. But we must forbear, for we .cannot transfer the whole poem to our pages. No New Englander can afford to remain ignorant of the delicious humor of this truly New England story. We will not even take exception to the descriptioa of the deacon, for the satire is, after all, thoroughly good natured. Corruptio optimi pessima is true the world over? As we write these words, the mirth which was so stirred within us but yesterday, as we followed this admirable story, is stilled as our eye falls on Mr. Lowells concluding lines, which must carry all his older readers back to the times of the old fashioned New England landlords, who were indeed a noble class of men. He says: Ezra is gone and his large-hearted kind, The landlords cf the hospitable mind; Good Warriner of Springfield was the last; An inn is now a vision of the past; He adds: One yet-surviving host my mind recalls, Youll find him if you go to Trenton Falls. 58 Current literature. [July, To-day we read in the iiewspapers the announcement that Mr. Mooreperhaps the noblest of them all---whom so many of the first literary men of the land, for more than half a century, have been proud to regard as a friend, has passed away. To all who have ever known him, one of the most beautiful of all American places of summer resort has now lost its most characteristic attrac- tion. WILLIAM L. KINGSLEY. Dn. PEABODYS HARVARD REMINIScENcEs.*~Jn this little volume, Dr. Peabody has laid aside all formality, and in a chatty way has given his memories of the college officerssome seventy of themwhose names appeared with his in the several catalogues in which he was registered as undergraduate, theological stu- dent, and tutor. We venture to say that his Reminiscences will be read at Yale with almost as much interest as at Harvard itself. There is a real bond of sympathy among all college men whatever may he the color of the ribbon they wearwhich is no- where else paralleled except in the Christian Church. They are all alike devoted to the most noble pursuits. They are all work- ing for the same ohjectthe cultivation and extension of every kind of knowledge which can interest or broaden the mind. There can he no rivalry, in any low sense of the word, among men who are thus engaged. Yale is known, the country over, as the Mother of Colleges. For nearly two hundred years, she has been lending a helping hand to one and another of the educational institutions which now so plenteously dot the whole length and breadth of the land. She has hailed every advance of every kind that has been made by any of them, as an advance of the common cause for which all are laboring. But Yale has always regarded Harvard with a special interest as her elder sister. She does not forget that the idea which was afterwards carried out in the establishment of a college in New haven may possibly have been conceived, by the men who planned this colony, as early as the idea of the establish- ment of a college in Cambridge. Certainly the college at New Haven would have begun its existence only a very few years after Harvard, had it not been for the special request of the friends of that college, who expressed their fears that, if two colleges were * Harvard Reminiscences. By ANDREW P. PEABoDY, D.D., LL.D. Boston: Ticknor & Co., 1888. l2mo, pp. 216.

58 Current literature. [July, To-day we read in the iiewspapers the announcement that Mr. Mooreperhaps the noblest of them all---whom so many of the first literary men of the land, for more than half a century, have been proud to regard as a friend, has passed away. To all who have ever known him, one of the most beautiful of all American places of summer resort has now lost its most characteristic attrac- tion. WILLIAM L. KINGSLEY. Dn. PEABODYS HARVARD REMINIScENcEs.*~Jn this little volume, Dr. Peabody has laid aside all formality, and in a chatty way has given his memories of the college officerssome seventy of themwhose names appeared with his in the several catalogues in which he was registered as undergraduate, theological stu- dent, and tutor. We venture to say that his Reminiscences will be read at Yale with almost as much interest as at Harvard itself. There is a real bond of sympathy among all college men whatever may he the color of the ribbon they wearwhich is no- where else paralleled except in the Christian Church. They are all alike devoted to the most noble pursuits. They are all work- ing for the same ohjectthe cultivation and extension of every kind of knowledge which can interest or broaden the mind. There can he no rivalry, in any low sense of the word, among men who are thus engaged. Yale is known, the country over, as the Mother of Colleges. For nearly two hundred years, she has been lending a helping hand to one and another of the educational institutions which now so plenteously dot the whole length and breadth of the land. She has hailed every advance of every kind that has been made by any of them, as an advance of the common cause for which all are laboring. But Yale has always regarded Harvard with a special interest as her elder sister. She does not forget that the idea which was afterwards carried out in the establishment of a college in New haven may possibly have been conceived, by the men who planned this colony, as early as the idea of the establish- ment of a college in Cambridge. Certainly the college at New Haven would have begun its existence only a very few years after Harvard, had it not been for the special request of the friends of that college, who expressed their fears that, if two colleges were * Harvard Reminiscences. By ANDREW P. PEABoDY, D.D., LL.D. Boston: Ticknor & Co., 1888. l2mo, pp. 216. 1888.1 Cmrrent Literature. 59 established in New England, the success of both might be endan- gered. New Haven yielded, and showed her sense of the value of the higher education by a yearly contribution of money and material to the college that had been first begun. The cause of education was of more importance in her eyes than the carrying out of her own favorite plan; and to-day no doubt, the loyal sons of both universities, whatever may be their private predilections, are still animated by the same feeling ;ever the cause before either Harvard or Yale. So, for more than two hundred years, the two colleges have stood in the most intimate and friendly relation. In 1)700, at the time of the founding of Yale, one in thirty of the graduates of Harvard had gone there from this far off colony on the Sound, when its total population was only five hundred. And ever since, the names of the officers who have done good service at Cam- bridge have been known and honored here, and have been scarcely less familiar under the elms of New Haven than the names of her own instructors. No where have Harvards suc- cesses and triumphs been more cordially applauded than at Yale. Dr. Peabodys Reminiscences are of the Harvard of his youth. He has given us a charming book, and yet we have a serious complaint to make of it. The book is so full of interest that we are prompted to feel that he might have made one even more interesting. But be has certainly done enough to reveal to the outside world what a charm invests the men of a university, and in fact the whole university life. The reminiscences, that he gives of these seventy instructors of Harvard cover only one generation of the many generations that have successively lived within its walls, and flourished, and passed away. Before the time of these men there were others, and before them also still others, rio whit less deserving of our veneration. To-day, the places of these last are filled, and by men who nobly maintain the honor of their alma mater. A hundred years hence, too, the laurels of Harvard will still be green, and she will be even more fresh arid strong than now, ever starting anew on her bene- ficent career. It is this confidence that memories of the past will always be accumulating and always be joined with anticipations of yet greater triumphs in the future which shall redound to the good of mankind, that makes every university a holy place to all its sons. It is certainly an inspiring thought to the graduates of every college. And to us in New Haven, who sing Nomen, laudesque Yalenses Cantabunt soboles, unanimique patres 60 Current literature. [July, there is yet this further reason to rejoice, that in the future ages, those who come after us will continue to share iu the goodly fellowship of the students of Princeton, of Williams, of Amherst, of Cornell, of Johns Hopkins, and above all of those of fair Harvard. One of the most striking things about the book to a New Haven graduate, is the fact that so much of what Dr. Peabody has said about one and another of the professors of Harvard might be said with equal truth of some one of the well known professors at Yale, with only the change of the name. Some- thing of this kind might almost have been anticipated; but it has been certainly a curious thing, as we have turned over these pages, to find all the different types of character with which New Haven men are familiar described with the utmost accuracy. We will refer, as an illustration, to what is said about Presi- dent Kirkland. Much of it might have been written, word for wood, of a well-known Yale Professor, who was nearly his con- temporary. Dr. Peabody says, that when Dr. Kirkland ex- amined candidates for admission to college, as the students were to a large extent from the immediate neighborhood of Bos- ton, with few exceptions he knew all about them and their parents, and his scrutiny was directed as much to the counten- ances, the family traits, and the indications of character, as to the tokens of scholarship. All this was true of the Yale Profes- sor of whom we have spoken. The students at New Haven, to be sure, were more generally from distant parts of the country, but when Professor ~ found a young man under examina- tion, who was the son, or a grandson of an old graduate, or who had been fitted by a graduate, the interest he took in him, through all his college course, was unflagging. When the pres- ent writer was under examination, this professor found, among those who shared the examination with him, one whose ancestors for four successive generations had been graduates of Yale, several of whom the professor had known personally; and the discovery was evidently a source of great gratification. A class- mate also of the present writer, who became a tutor, used to tell a story of the same instructor which was however somewhat at his own expense. He was in a stage coach, somewhere in New York, when a stout, jolly farmer took a seat, and for some hours kept the passengers in a high state of delight with his stories. The tutor had recognized him at once, as having at the recent 1888.1 (Atrrent literature. 61 Commencement brought a son for examination, whom he had himself partly examined. Finding that he was not recognized, it was with keen enjoyment that he soon heard the farmer describe his late visit to New Haven. He told how he had been sent with his son to a tutorwhich word he pronounced with profound disdainwho looked, he said, as if he knew all that was worth knowing in the world. This tutor had badgered his son with questions, till the poor boy did not know whether he was on his head or his feet. At last a bell rang, and the tutor said there was to be a Phi Beta Kappa Oration delivered, and the examination must be put off till afternoon. He had him- self some special reasons why it was necessary for him to leave town that afternoon, and the tutor told him that possibly Profes- sor would finish the examination at once. So, he said, I went with my son to the third story of a building they called the Lyceum, and rapped at the door. Some one said, come in. So I went in, and there sat a venerable old gentlemen, with white hair, who asked us to sit down. I told him the whole story, how the examination was not finished, and that I was afraid my son had not got along very well. Well, the professor looked over his spectacles in a benevolent sort of way, and he saw in a flash what was the matterthat my son was kind of flustered. So he just screwed himself down to the boys capacity, and asked him who fitted him for college. My son said it was our minister. Then the professor said that he knew our minister very well; that he was an old graduate, and a very fine scholar, and he told us a story about something he had done when he was in college that was very bright, and he made us both laugh. Then he asked my son two or three more questions that the boy could answer well enough. I saw at once what the old gentle- man was up to, and pretty soon, when he found the boy had got heart once more, he gave him a book, and spoke kindly to him, and the boy just did splendid! Then he asked him three or four questions, and the boy seemed to get the hang of it right off, and answered up first rate, and the professor complimented him and told him he was admitted. What college has not had some kindly professor in its faculty, who answered to the Dr. Kirkland that Dr. Peabody has de- scribed. But we have entered upon a theme which is exhaustless, and we must refrain. We can only suggest to our readers the fascination there must 62 (%rrent Literature. [July, be in a book that contains reminiscences of such men as Josiah Quincy, Levi Hedge, Joseph Story, Benjamin Peirce, the Wares, Charles Folsom, John G. Palfrey, Charles Follen, Charles Beck, Cornelius Felton, and scores of others whose names are so fami- liar and so honored. A single quotation from what Dr. Peabody says of Professor Andrews Norton is all that the limits at our command will allow. I deem it one of the great privileges of my life, that, during my first year in the Divinity School, I had his instruction in the exegesis of the New Testament. He united what might seem the opposite extremes of keen criticism and submissive faith. He carried to the investigation of the sacred writings the same microscopic scrutiny and uncompro- mising excision of whatever can be otherwise than genuine, which the great German scholars have brought to the study of the Greek and Roman classics. He was unwilling to take anything for granted,to believe any thing that he could not prove, or for which he had not the testimony of competent witnesses. In the Gospels he rejected every passage, every text, every word, in which he could discover any possi- ble token of interpolation or of error in transcription; and the books thus expurgated he received, because he had convinced himself by research and reasoning that they were the veritable writings of the men whose names they bear, and the authentic record of Him whose life they portray. With this habit of mind, I do not by any means regard it as strange tbat his faith was intensely strong. I have never known a firmer belief than his in the divine mission and authority of Jesus Christ. Indeed, it seemed in him more than belief; it was knowl- edge. I doubt whether he felt any more confident assurance of the events daily occurring under his own eyes than of those which he sup- posed to have occurred within the cognizance of the apostles of Christ. The trutbs of the Christian revelation which transcend the sphere of human knowledge, he received implicitly, on the authority of him whom he believed to be an accredited teacher from God. In this faith he was serenely happy in his years of declining strength, and passed under the death-shadow with a hope based, not on his own speculations but on what he regarded as the infallible testimony of One who knew. It was impossible that such a man should not have approached and handled the sacred records with the profoundest reverence. Un- sparing as he was in his criticism of their text, and in the rejection of much that was received by the Christian world in general, and even by Christian scholars, he always stood as with unshodden feet before what he recognized as the genuine word of God. I can still hear the echo of his intensely solemn intonations in repeating in his own version the Sermon on the Mount, or one of our Saviours parables. He would re- buke, with a vehemence which recalled to our memory the traditions of the once strong but rigidly chastened passions of his earlier days, the student who made the slightest approach to flippancy with refer- ence to the Scriptures or any of their contents. No man ever repeated the offence with him. 1888.] Current Literature. 63 It may readily be supposed that Mr. Norton, while himself an arch- heretic in the eyes of (so-called) orthodox Christians, had little toler- ance for what he deemed heresy. He was so sure of his own beliefs, that he could hardly imagine those who differed essentially from him to be both honest and wise. The transcendental school of thought, with its intuitive philosophy, found no sympathy from him. While no man felt more vividly than he, or expounded with greater fulness and beauty, the evidential value of Christs character and teachings, he could not bear that the historical and external evidences of Chris- tianity should be in any wise depreciated. He was equally hostile to rationalistic explanations of the supernatural narratives in the Gospels. He could get no satisfying glimpses of substantial truth in the cloud- land in which the thinkers and students of Germany are wont to dwell, and he regarded even Goethe as having no rightful place in the hie- rarchy of really great minds. It is with regret that we forbear to quote what is said of Pro- fessor George R. Noycs, and of Professor Farrar. The great danger of our country at present, which is every- where recognised, is that men are placing too great a value on the acquisition of money. The only way to check this spirit is to convince them that there is something higher and nobler than material wealth. This is one thing that the American colleges are doing. Even for the real enjoyment of wealth, a mans ideas must be enlarged and ennobled, and his tastes cultivated. A man may become as rich as Criesus, but, if that be all, he must necessarily remain what the Japanese call low class. Even the glimpse that this little book gives of a society of men de- voted to learning may serve to convince some that money is not the end of life or the highest object of ambition. PROF. FIsHERs CHRIsTIAN EVIDENCES. *.Professor George P. Fisher has supplemented the admirable History of the Chris- tam Church which he gave to the public a year ago with a short Manual, in which he has presented an outline of the evidences of the supernatural origin of the Christain religion. There are many excellent works that have been written on this subject which are deserving of high commendation, and which are not inaccessible to the general reader. But most of these give the argument at such length that many persons who would gladly read a shorter treatise are repelled. It is to meet the wants of this class of readers that Professor Fisher has written the present * Manual of Christian Evidences. By GEORGE P. FISHER, D.D., LL.D.: New York. C. Scribners Sons, 1888. l2mo, pp. 123.

1888.] Current Literature. 63 It may readily be supposed that Mr. Norton, while himself an arch- heretic in the eyes of (so-called) orthodox Christians, had little toler- ance for what he deemed heresy. He was so sure of his own beliefs, that he could hardly imagine those who differed essentially from him to be both honest and wise. The transcendental school of thought, with its intuitive philosophy, found no sympathy from him. While no man felt more vividly than he, or expounded with greater fulness and beauty, the evidential value of Christs character and teachings, he could not bear that the historical and external evidences of Chris- tianity should be in any wise depreciated. He was equally hostile to rationalistic explanations of the supernatural narratives in the Gospels. He could get no satisfying glimpses of substantial truth in the cloud- land in which the thinkers and students of Germany are wont to dwell, and he regarded even Goethe as having no rightful place in the hie- rarchy of really great minds. It is with regret that we forbear to quote what is said of Pro- fessor George R. Noycs, and of Professor Farrar. The great danger of our country at present, which is every- where recognised, is that men are placing too great a value on the acquisition of money. The only way to check this spirit is to convince them that there is something higher and nobler than material wealth. This is one thing that the American colleges are doing. Even for the real enjoyment of wealth, a mans ideas must be enlarged and ennobled, and his tastes cultivated. A man may become as rich as Criesus, but, if that be all, he must necessarily remain what the Japanese call low class. Even the glimpse that this little book gives of a society of men de- voted to learning may serve to convince some that money is not the end of life or the highest object of ambition. PROF. FIsHERs CHRIsTIAN EVIDENCES. *.Professor George P. Fisher has supplemented the admirable History of the Chris- tam Church which he gave to the public a year ago with a short Manual, in which he has presented an outline of the evidences of the supernatural origin of the Christain religion. There are many excellent works that have been written on this subject which are deserving of high commendation, and which are not inaccessible to the general reader. But most of these give the argument at such length that many persons who would gladly read a shorter treatise are repelled. It is to meet the wants of this class of readers that Professor Fisher has written the present * Manual of Christian Evidences. By GEORGE P. FISHER, D.D., LL.D.: New York. C. Scribners Sons, 1888. l2mo, pp. 123. 64 Current Literature. [July, work. It need hardly be said that for the preparation of such a book he is admirably qualified. He is thoroughly familiar with the subject, and is the master of a style of unusual clearness and precision. One of the distinguishing features of the argument, as he here presents it, is the prominence given to the antecedent need of a revelation, the intrinsic excellence of the system contained in the Bible, and its adaptation to the necessities of men. He also compares the Christian religion with other religions and other philosophical systems and shows its great superiority. For eigh- teen hundred years the enemies of Christianity have been trying new methods of attack. The Christian church has been likened to an anvil on which a thousand hammers have been shattered to pieces. Yet every generation listens to some new objection. Hence it becomes necessary that new books should be prepared to meet these new forms of attack. Professor Fisher has con- sidered these changing aspects of skepticism and unbelief and made a book which is adapted to the wants of the private reader or student, and one which will also serve as an excellent text-book for the higher schools and academies. WILLIAM L. KINGSLEY. ETHICS OF MARRIAGE.*~Jn this book, Dr. H. S. Pomeroy, a prominent Boston physician who has given special attention to gynecology, has presented a strongly and clearly written treatise on the ethical and physiological principles which i-elate to the increase of the family. He vigorously denounces what he calls the American sin of preventing and checking such increase as a heinous offence against morals as well as against natural and physical laws, and points out the evils and dangers which are involved in it. It is not our purpose and this is not the place to discuss Dr. Poineroys ethical views, but those who hold with him that there is but one aspect in which the subject can be regarded as a question of morals will find themselves fortified by a perusal of his book. The introductory notes by Dr. Emmet and by Rev. Dr. Duryea endorse the character and object of the volume, and it is certainly entitled from its professional and literary ability to high respect and careful consideration. HENRY T. BLAKE. * The Ethics of Marriage. By H. S. POMEROY, M.D., Boston. With a prefa- tory note by Thomas Addis Emmet, M.D., LL.D., New York; and an intro- duction by Rev. J. T. Duryea, liD. of Boston. Funk & Wagnalls, New York. pp. 197.

64 Current Literature. [July, work. It need hardly be said that for the preparation of such a book he is admirably qualified. He is thoroughly familiar with the subject, and is the master of a style of unusual clearness and precision. One of the distinguishing features of the argument, as he here presents it, is the prominence given to the antecedent need of a revelation, the intrinsic excellence of the system contained in the Bible, and its adaptation to the necessities of men. He also compares the Christian religion with other religions and other philosophical systems and shows its great superiority. For eigh- teen hundred years the enemies of Christianity have been trying new methods of attack. The Christian church has been likened to an anvil on which a thousand hammers have been shattered to pieces. Yet every generation listens to some new objection. Hence it becomes necessary that new books should be prepared to meet these new forms of attack. Professor Fisher has con- sidered these changing aspects of skepticism and unbelief and made a book which is adapted to the wants of the private reader or student, and one which will also serve as an excellent text-book for the higher schools and academies. WILLIAM L. KINGSLEY. ETHICS OF MARRIAGE.*~Jn this book, Dr. H. S. Pomeroy, a prominent Boston physician who has given special attention to gynecology, has presented a strongly and clearly written treatise on the ethical and physiological principles which i-elate to the increase of the family. He vigorously denounces what he calls the American sin of preventing and checking such increase as a heinous offence against morals as well as against natural and physical laws, and points out the evils and dangers which are involved in it. It is not our purpose and this is not the place to discuss Dr. Poineroys ethical views, but those who hold with him that there is but one aspect in which the subject can be regarded as a question of morals will find themselves fortified by a perusal of his book. The introductory notes by Dr. Emmet and by Rev. Dr. Duryea endorse the character and object of the volume, and it is certainly entitled from its professional and literary ability to high respect and careful consideration. HENRY T. BLAKE. * The Ethics of Marriage. By H. S. POMEROY, M.D., Boston. With a prefa- tory note by Thomas Addis Emmet, M.D., LL.D., New York; and an intro- duction by Rev. J. T. Duryea, liD. of Boston. Funk & Wagnalls, New York. pp. 197. 1888.] OreS LileaAn 65 BosoN Moon Lucvrutuus.A poem dedicated to the genius of medley and a prelude on the popular taste of our age for the miscellaneous is recommended to the Boston Monday Lectureship fit introduction to its next course of lectures. One valuable. feature of such introduction would be that it would not be obliged to go far for the material of its illustrations. The vol- ume before us may be called a masterpiece in the art of miscel- lany. Here we have poems, prayers, preludes, lectures, addresses, questions and answers, letters, essays, and, as if the genius of medley were making fun of us, we are informed in the table of contents that still another portion of the volume may properly be called Miscellaneous, and to crown the whole we have an ap- pendix. In addition also to the knowledge obtainable from such vast storehouse of miscellaneous wisdom we have the felicity of learning just how often the audience applauded, and such choice bits of information as that the hail was crowded to the roof~ that large numbers were standing at several doors of both bal- conies, and that it was estimated that from two to three thou- sand preachers were present with many students, ladies, and other educated men, are thrown in without doubt to enlarge still further the miscellaneous character of the book. It is a hardship to be obliged to deal soberly with such a volume. The most satisfactory result will probably be attained by not trying it. There are many good things said here. But the whole enter- prise is on too vast a scale for the avenge mortal. TuxiqmG Ponns or THoUGnT an ConuoT.tThis is a vol- ume of sermons preached by Dr. Whiton in the pulpit of Dr. Doles church in Birmingham, England, in 1887. They are pub- lished at the request of members of the congregation who heard them. No one who reads them even will fail to detect the sources or the impression which they evidently made upon that intelli- gent congregation. Tine volume is small and unpretentious. The sermons are twelve in number and are short. But they are com- pact with fresh, suggestive, and substantial thoughts, put in a very clear and graceful style. The themes are weighty and are discussed with the dignity befitting them, but they an also *Bedoa Mos& sv Luhwn Current Religious Podia, etc. By Josna Coo.~ Boston and Nw York: Houghton, Muffin, and Company. The DiverSe Press Combrldge. 1888. t lhnsAmg NAsh @1 Thought ad ObsEsS By JAns Nozars Warier, Ph.D. New York: Thomas Whlttaker, I and 8 Bible House. 1888. voL. sin. S

1888.] OreS LileaAn 65 BosoN Moon Lucvrutuus.A poem dedicated to the genius of medley and a prelude on the popular taste of our age for the miscellaneous is recommended to the Boston Monday Lectureship fit introduction to its next course of lectures. One valuable. feature of such introduction would be that it would not be obliged to go far for the material of its illustrations. The vol- ume before us may be called a masterpiece in the art of miscel- lany. Here we have poems, prayers, preludes, lectures, addresses, questions and answers, letters, essays, and, as if the genius of medley were making fun of us, we are informed in the table of contents that still another portion of the volume may properly be called Miscellaneous, and to crown the whole we have an ap- pendix. In addition also to the knowledge obtainable from such vast storehouse of miscellaneous wisdom we have the felicity of learning just how often the audience applauded, and such choice bits of information as that the hail was crowded to the roof~ that large numbers were standing at several doors of both bal- conies, and that it was estimated that from two to three thou- sand preachers were present with many students, ladies, and other educated men, are thrown in without doubt to enlarge still further the miscellaneous character of the book. It is a hardship to be obliged to deal soberly with such a volume. The most satisfactory result will probably be attained by not trying it. There are many good things said here. But the whole enter- prise is on too vast a scale for the avenge mortal. TuxiqmG Ponns or THoUGnT an ConuoT.tThis is a vol- ume of sermons preached by Dr. Whiton in the pulpit of Dr. Doles church in Birmingham, England, in 1887. They are pub- lished at the request of members of the congregation who heard them. No one who reads them even will fail to detect the sources or the impression which they evidently made upon that intelli- gent congregation. Tine volume is small and unpretentious. The sermons are twelve in number and are short. But they are com- pact with fresh, suggestive, and substantial thoughts, put in a very clear and graceful style. The themes are weighty and are discussed with the dignity befitting them, but they an also *Bedoa Mos& sv Luhwn Current Religious Podia, etc. By Josna Coo.~ Boston and Nw York: Houghton, Muffin, and Company. The DiverSe Press Combrldge. 1888. t lhnsAmg NAsh @1 Thought ad ObsEsS By JAns Nozars Warier, Ph.D. New York: Thomas Whlttaker, I and 8 Bible House. 1888. voL. sin. S

1888.] OreS LileaAn 65 BosoN Moon Lucvrutuus.A poem dedicated to the genius of medley and a prelude on the popular taste of our age for the miscellaneous is recommended to the Boston Monday Lectureship fit introduction to its next course of lectures. One valuable. feature of such introduction would be that it would not be obliged to go far for the material of its illustrations. The vol- ume before us may be called a masterpiece in the art of miscel- lany. Here we have poems, prayers, preludes, lectures, addresses, questions and answers, letters, essays, and, as if the genius of medley were making fun of us, we are informed in the table of contents that still another portion of the volume may properly be called Miscellaneous, and to crown the whole we have an ap- pendix. In addition also to the knowledge obtainable from such vast storehouse of miscellaneous wisdom we have the felicity of learning just how often the audience applauded, and such choice bits of information as that the hail was crowded to the roof~ that large numbers were standing at several doors of both bal- conies, and that it was estimated that from two to three thou- sand preachers were present with many students, ladies, and other educated men, are thrown in without doubt to enlarge still further the miscellaneous character of the book. It is a hardship to be obliged to deal soberly with such a volume. The most satisfactory result will probably be attained by not trying it. There are many good things said here. But the whole enter- prise is on too vast a scale for the avenge mortal. TuxiqmG Ponns or THoUGnT an ConuoT.tThis is a vol- ume of sermons preached by Dr. Whiton in the pulpit of Dr. Doles church in Birmingham, England, in 1887. They are pub- lished at the request of members of the congregation who heard them. No one who reads them even will fail to detect the sources or the impression which they evidently made upon that intelli- gent congregation. Tine volume is small and unpretentious. The sermons are twelve in number and are short. But they are com- pact with fresh, suggestive, and substantial thoughts, put in a very clear and graceful style. The themes are weighty and are discussed with the dignity befitting them, but they an also *Bedoa Mos& sv Luhwn Current Religious Podia, etc. By Josna Coo.~ Boston and Nw York: Houghton, Muffin, and Company. The DiverSe Press Combrldge. 1888. t lhnsAmg NAsh @1 Thought ad ObsEsS By JAns Nozars Warier, Ph.D. New York: Thomas Whlttaker, I and 8 Bible House. 1888. voL. sin. S 66 Current Literature. [July, handled with incisiveness and with a disregard of conventional opinion which leave no doubt of the preachers independence and critical acuteness. One of the most interesting features of the sermons is the tone of downright reality, and of strong com- mon sense that pervades them. In this and in many other respects they hear the marks of the best modern preaching. RECENT BooKs ON PHILOSOPHY AND PSYCHOLOGY. INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF PmLO5OPJ1Y.*~Thi5 book has the great merit of being the first serious attempt to fill a dis- tinct gap in English philosophical literature. As its author, when defining its aim in the Preface (p. iii.), assures us It is not an encyclopedia; nor is it intended as an introduction to any particular philosophical system, or to the history of the various systems, but to the study of philosophy itself. Accordingly, after a chapter upon the Definition of Philosophy, we find discussed in three succeeding chapters, the relations of philosophy toward Religion, toward Natural Science, and toward Empiri- cal Psychology. All Philosophy is thereupon divided by Dr. Stuckenberg into Theory of Knowledge (Noetics), Metaphysics, Aesthetics, and Ethics; each of these divisions is treated in a separate chapter; and the book closes with remarks upon the Spirit and the Method in the Study of Philosophy. On the whole, the most satisfactory chapter of the book is that entitled, Definition of Philosophy. here Dr. Stuckenberg sketches the slow and late development of the conception of phi- losophy as a discipline which, in any intelligible way, can be distin- guished frolil the particular sciences. As a result of this survey, and looking solely at the idea of philosophy, not at the actual attainments, we are told that philosophy is the rational system of fundamemtalprine~ples. (p. 46.) This definition expresses the more important elements of the true conception in tolerably suc- cinct and exact language. We should prefer, however, to have the word ultimate substituted for the word fundamental, as applied to philosophical principles, and to have the whole defini- tion somewhat expanded so as to cover, or at least suggest, the relation in which philosophy stands to the highest generalizations of the particular sciences. The succeeding discussion of the relations in which philosophy * Introduction to the Study c~f Philosophy. By J. H. W. STUCKENBERG, ThD. New York: A. C. Armstrong & Son. 1888.

66 Current Literature. [July, handled with incisiveness and with a disregard of conventional opinion which leave no doubt of the preachers independence and critical acuteness. One of the most interesting features of the sermons is the tone of downright reality, and of strong com- mon sense that pervades them. In this and in many other respects they hear the marks of the best modern preaching. RECENT BooKs ON PHILOSOPHY AND PSYCHOLOGY. INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF PmLO5OPJ1Y.*~Thi5 book has the great merit of being the first serious attempt to fill a dis- tinct gap in English philosophical literature. As its author, when defining its aim in the Preface (p. iii.), assures us It is not an encyclopedia; nor is it intended as an introduction to any particular philosophical system, or to the history of the various systems, but to the study of philosophy itself. Accordingly, after a chapter upon the Definition of Philosophy, we find discussed in three succeeding chapters, the relations of philosophy toward Religion, toward Natural Science, and toward Empiri- cal Psychology. All Philosophy is thereupon divided by Dr. Stuckenberg into Theory of Knowledge (Noetics), Metaphysics, Aesthetics, and Ethics; each of these divisions is treated in a separate chapter; and the book closes with remarks upon the Spirit and the Method in the Study of Philosophy. On the whole, the most satisfactory chapter of the book is that entitled, Definition of Philosophy. here Dr. Stuckenberg sketches the slow and late development of the conception of phi- losophy as a discipline which, in any intelligible way, can be distin- guished frolil the particular sciences. As a result of this survey, and looking solely at the idea of philosophy, not at the actual attainments, we are told that philosophy is the rational system of fundamemtalprine~ples. (p. 46.) This definition expresses the more important elements of the true conception in tolerably suc- cinct and exact language. We should prefer, however, to have the word ultimate substituted for the word fundamental, as applied to philosophical principles, and to have the whole defini- tion somewhat expanded so as to cover, or at least suggest, the relation in which philosophy stands to the highest generalizations of the particular sciences. The succeeding discussion of the relations in which philosophy * Introduction to the Study c~f Philosophy. By J. H. W. STUCKENBERG, ThD. New York: A. C. Armstrong & Son. 1888. 1888.1 Uurrent Literature. 67 stands to religion, to natural science, and to empirical psychology, seems to us unsatisfactory. Many excellent remarks arc indeed found in these chapters. But they are lacking in a clear, strong, presentation of the important points brought forward. The dis- tinction between theology and religion is not always sufficiently kept in mind; nor is it satisfactorily shown how theology and philosophy are, of necessity, most closely allied, and yet neither must be suffered to dominate the other, since they seek the same ultimate principle, though with differing means and materials at their disposal and from differing points of view. It is well worth while to note in passing that Dr. Stuckenbergs position ns to the limits and tests of philosophical truth is that of thorough-going Rationalism; it is, however, a rationalism of that reasonable sort which secures and evinces the chastened and cau- tious freedom characteristic of the genuine philosophical spirit. The division of philosophy is no easy task. We doubt whether it can be successfully accomplished with any strict regard for system. A preliminary division of philosophy, says Lotze, may be attempted simply with the design of separating the different groups of problems We attribute little value to the reciprocal arrangement of these single groups under each other. In his attempt at division Dr. Stuckenberg has not been more successful than most of his predecessors,not so successful, in our judgment, as he might have been if he had earlier intro- duced and steadfastly adhered to a principle of division which he lays down only some time after his division has already been made. The opening sentence of the chapter on Metaphysics (p. ~42), affirms By generalizing the various objects of profit- able thought, we can comprehend all of them under the real, the possible (thinkable ?), and the desirable (or as Lotze would say that which has worth.) Were it our purpose to criticize in detail the positions of the book we should be inclined to ask why ethics is made one main division of philosophy, when, as a science, it is only a department of psychology, and as metaphysics, may be considered as vided for under another division of philosdphy; why, on the other hand, we have psychology as empirical considered in rela- tion to philosophy, and as rational made a subdivision of philos- ophy under metaphysics; whether the theory of knowledge can be so separated from rational psychology, and from metaphysics, as to be constituted into the first great division of philosophy, 68 Current Literature. [July. and whether it is not introductory to philosophy rather than a part of philosophy; and why so important divisions as the phi- losophy of nature, the philosophy of religion, the philosophy of history, and the philosophy of the State, are either passed by without notice or relegated to altogether subordinate places. Furthermore, it seems to us that a work introductory to philo- sophical study should show the reader what are the great classes of answers which the chief schools of philosophy have given to its problems, and how they have fiAt themselves impelled toward, or justified in, their characteristic answers. Surely such a work should at least characterize Idealism, Realism, Scepticism, and A gnosticism. We heartily welcome, however, this earnest and helpful attempt of Dr. Stuckenberg to stimulate and guide the English student in beginning philosophy. It is likely that the book will be useful to a goodly number of readers; especially since there is just now in this conntry a widening and deepening interest in pliilosoph- ical study. A SYSTEM OF P5yCIIOLOGy.*~~There have been few more pro- ductive writers in the general field of mental and moral philos- ophy, during the last four years, than the author of this treatise. Besides the txvo works now to be noticed, another on The Problem of Evil has been put forth by him during this brief period. This treatise on Psychology is among the most volumni- nous on the subject,the two volumes containing almost exactly twelve hundred pages (it might be said, exclusive of the Index, although this valuable help to the study of so large a book is wanting). The range of particular topics presented, and the de- tailed character of their presentation, account for its size. Many of these topics are not treated of at all in the customary works on psychology; or, if treated at all, are not treated at length. For example, some twenty-five pages of the first volume are given to Language as the expression of science, and about one hundred and thirty to the general facts of Vegetal and Animal Life ; the second volume presemas in some detail the subject of Development in the Lower Animals, and under the heading of Secondary Pleasures and Pains, brings in remarks on clothing, opium, books, cities, sunset, temperance, etc. This diversified mass of discussion and information is l)y 110 means all of it alike * A System of Psychotogy. By DANIEL GREENLEAF THoMPsoN. 2 vols. London: Longmans, Green, and Co.

68 Current Literature. [July. and whether it is not introductory to philosophy rather than a part of philosophy; and why so important divisions as the phi- losophy of nature, the philosophy of religion, the philosophy of history, and the philosophy of the State, are either passed by without notice or relegated to altogether subordinate places. Furthermore, it seems to us that a work introductory to philo- sophical study should show the reader what are the great classes of answers which the chief schools of philosophy have given to its problems, and how they have fiAt themselves impelled toward, or justified in, their characteristic answers. Surely such a work should at least characterize Idealism, Realism, Scepticism, and A gnosticism. We heartily welcome, however, this earnest and helpful attempt of Dr. Stuckenberg to stimulate and guide the English student in beginning philosophy. It is likely that the book will be useful to a goodly number of readers; especially since there is just now in this conntry a widening and deepening interest in pliilosoph- ical study. A SYSTEM OF P5yCIIOLOGy.*~~There have been few more pro- ductive writers in the general field of mental and moral philos- ophy, during the last four years, than the author of this treatise. Besides the txvo works now to be noticed, another on The Problem of Evil has been put forth by him during this brief period. This treatise on Psychology is among the most volumni- nous on the subject,the two volumes containing almost exactly twelve hundred pages (it might be said, exclusive of the Index, although this valuable help to the study of so large a book is wanting). The range of particular topics presented, and the de- tailed character of their presentation, account for its size. Many of these topics are not treated of at all in the customary works on psychology; or, if treated at all, are not treated at length. For example, some twenty-five pages of the first volume are given to Language as the expression of science, and about one hundred and thirty to the general facts of Vegetal and Animal Life ; the second volume presemas in some detail the subject of Development in the Lower Animals, and under the heading of Secondary Pleasures and Pains, brings in remarks on clothing, opium, books, cities, sunset, temperance, etc. This diversified mass of discussion and information is l)y 110 means all of it alike * A System of Psychotogy. By DANIEL GREENLEAF THoMPsoN. 2 vols. London: Longmans, Green, and Co. 1888.] (Jarrent Literature. 69 pertinent to psychology; much of it could, in our judgment, have been omitted without loss, and even with a distinct gain, to the total scientific impression and value of the work. It cannot be denied, however, that the author deals with all his material honestly and faithfully; he has made it the possession of himself, the adjunct of the central theme, as regarded from his points of view. Mr. Thompson considers psychology to be the science of the states of consciousness. This definition suggests the division of subject; it also controls its treatment. Hence we have, in Part II. States of Consciousness considered generally ; in Part III. the Material Conditions of States of Consciousness ; in Part IV. the Genesis of States of Consciousness ; in Part V. the Factors of the Development, and in Part VI. the General De- velopment, of States of Consciousness. The several remaining Parts of the work deal with integrations, and with the dis- integration, of states of consciousness. The spirit and method of Mr. Thompsons treatise may be con- jectured with an approximation ~o certainty from the tribute which he pays in the Preface to Herbert Spencer and to Alex- ander Bain, who, with John Stuart Millsays he have shown rue the paths of true knowledge in the department of Psychol- ogy. This frank acknowledgment of indebtedness is borne out by the fact that almost entire chapters consist either of the pre- sentation, in his own manner and with his own resources of illus- tration, of the views of these favorite authors, or else of a polemical examination of the views of other writers on psychology most opposed to these authors. This book is, however, a very conscientious and elaborate treat- mnent of the subject from the points of view held by the school (if it be granted that the use of this term is appropriate) to which its author belongs. To those who wish to see what can be done with psychological problems, by a skillful use of the appropriate method, from these points of view, it will xvcll repay careful perusal. rfhel.e are few readers so widely informed that they will not also pick up much valuable collateral information, and be helped to side views upon various interesting questions, while following the main path of the treatise. Many of its principal defects are due to the fact that, although so voluminous, it shows little acquaintance with the important discoveries of modern experimental psychology, and almost no acquaintance with the contributions of the Herbartian school of inquirers. 70 Current Literature. [July, RELIGIOUS ~ book shows that Mr. Thomp- sons acknowledged indebtedness to Herbert Spencer (see the notice of the System of Psychology, given above) extends to certain of the implications and inferences of psychological sci- ence in the field of religion. The entire subject is treated in four Parts. In the first Part the nature of the religious senti- ments is defined; in the second, the relation of these sentiments to knowledge is treated; in the third Part, their relation to feel- ing and conduct ; and in the fourth, their scientific education. In answer to the question, What is religion? we are told (p. 4): Religion is the aggregate of those sentiments in the human mind arisino in connection with the relations assumed to subsist between the order of nature (inclusive of the observer) and a postulated supernatural. This answer has elements of great value; its defect is that it resolves religion into an affair of the sentiments merely. The supernatural is indeed said to be postulated, and certain relations are assumed to exist between it and the order of nature. But these seem to enter, in no re- spect, into the essence of religion, but only to be connected with it. The author affirms that we cannot think of a world of material ob~jects as existing without postulating a supernatural (p. 23), and that the existence of intelligence argues a source of that intelligence, an unlimited condition for conscious existence, the potentiality of knowledge, feeling, will (p. 74). And yet, after quoting Professor Fisher to the effect that the essential characteristic of personality is self-consciousness, he affirms that Herbert Spencer and Dean Mansel have conclusively shown that personal consciousness means nothing without limitation. The conclusion of the book is then agnostic,not, however, so dog- inatically and self-confidently agnostic as are certain other forms of the same general view. It affords, in our judgment, additional proof of the almost purely arhitrary character of modern agnos- ticism. No rational line is drawn to show where knowledge or reasonable belief must stop; the limit is left, unfixed l)y any sci- entific theory of cognition, to the caprice, or prejudice, or timid- ity, of each mans temporary opinion. TuE ETIucAL IMPORT OF DA~wINJsM.tProfessor Schurman * The Religious Sentiments of the Human Mind. By DANIEL GREENLEAF THoMPsoN. London and New York: Lougmans, Green, & Co. 1888. ~ The Ethical Import of Darwinism. By JAcon GOULD SCHURMAN, Sage Pro - fessor of Philosophy in Cornell University. New York: Chas. Scribners Sons.

70 Current Literature. [July, RELIGIOUS ~ book shows that Mr. Thomp- sons acknowledged indebtedness to Herbert Spencer (see the notice of the System of Psychology, given above) extends to certain of the implications and inferences of psychological sci- ence in the field of religion. The entire subject is treated in four Parts. In the first Part the nature of the religious senti- ments is defined; in the second, the relation of these sentiments to knowledge is treated; in the third Part, their relation to feel- ing and conduct ; and in the fourth, their scientific education. In answer to the question, What is religion? we are told (p. 4): Religion is the aggregate of those sentiments in the human mind arisino in connection with the relations assumed to subsist between the order of nature (inclusive of the observer) and a postulated supernatural. This answer has elements of great value; its defect is that it resolves religion into an affair of the sentiments merely. The supernatural is indeed said to be postulated, and certain relations are assumed to exist between it and the order of nature. But these seem to enter, in no re- spect, into the essence of religion, but only to be connected with it. The author affirms that we cannot think of a world of material ob~jects as existing without postulating a supernatural (p. 23), and that the existence of intelligence argues a source of that intelligence, an unlimited condition for conscious existence, the potentiality of knowledge, feeling, will (p. 74). And yet, after quoting Professor Fisher to the effect that the essential characteristic of personality is self-consciousness, he affirms that Herbert Spencer and Dean Mansel have conclusively shown that personal consciousness means nothing without limitation. The conclusion of the book is then agnostic,not, however, so dog- inatically and self-confidently agnostic as are certain other forms of the same general view. It affords, in our judgment, additional proof of the almost purely arhitrary character of modern agnos- ticism. No rational line is drawn to show where knowledge or reasonable belief must stop; the limit is left, unfixed l)y any sci- entific theory of cognition, to the caprice, or prejudice, or timid- ity, of each mans temporary opinion. TuE ETIucAL IMPORT OF DA~wINJsM.tProfessor Schurman * The Religious Sentiments of the Human Mind. By DANIEL GREENLEAF THoMPsoN. London and New York: Lougmans, Green, & Co. 1888. ~ The Ethical Import of Darwinism. By JAcon GOULD SCHURMAN, Sage Pro - fessor of Philosophy in Cornell University. New York: Chas. Scribners Sons.

70 Current Literature. [July, RELIGIOUS ~ book shows that Mr. Thomp- sons acknowledged indebtedness to Herbert Spencer (see the notice of the System of Psychology, given above) extends to certain of the implications and inferences of psychological sci- ence in the field of religion. The entire subject is treated in four Parts. In the first Part the nature of the religious senti- ments is defined; in the second, the relation of these sentiments to knowledge is treated; in the third Part, their relation to feel- ing and conduct ; and in the fourth, their scientific education. In answer to the question, What is religion? we are told (p. 4): Religion is the aggregate of those sentiments in the human mind arisino in connection with the relations assumed to subsist between the order of nature (inclusive of the observer) and a postulated supernatural. This answer has elements of great value; its defect is that it resolves religion into an affair of the sentiments merely. The supernatural is indeed said to be postulated, and certain relations are assumed to exist between it and the order of nature. But these seem to enter, in no re- spect, into the essence of religion, but only to be connected with it. The author affirms that we cannot think of a world of material ob~jects as existing without postulating a supernatural (p. 23), and that the existence of intelligence argues a source of that intelligence, an unlimited condition for conscious existence, the potentiality of knowledge, feeling, will (p. 74). And yet, after quoting Professor Fisher to the effect that the essential characteristic of personality is self-consciousness, he affirms that Herbert Spencer and Dean Mansel have conclusively shown that personal consciousness means nothing without limitation. The conclusion of the book is then agnostic,not, however, so dog- inatically and self-confidently agnostic as are certain other forms of the same general view. It affords, in our judgment, additional proof of the almost purely arhitrary character of modern agnos- ticism. No rational line is drawn to show where knowledge or reasonable belief must stop; the limit is left, unfixed l)y any sci- entific theory of cognition, to the caprice, or prejudice, or timid- ity, of each mans temporary opinion. TuE ETIucAL IMPORT OF DA~wINJsM.tProfessor Schurman * The Religious Sentiments of the Human Mind. By DANIEL GREENLEAF THoMPsoN. London and New York: Lougmans, Green, & Co. 1888. ~ The Ethical Import of Darwinism. By JAcon GOULD SCHURMAN, Sage Pro - fessor of Philosophy in Cornell University. New York: Chas. Scribners Sons. 1888.] Current literature. 71 has given us a lucid, entertaining and instructive book; it should be read by all students both of ethics and of the modern theory of evolution. He himself advises that the first chapter ( Methods of Ethics, evolutionary and other ) be omitted by the general reader not interested in the logic of ethics. On the contrary we advise every reader to go through with this chapter; it will not be found tedious even by those who are not special students of the particular subject with which it deals. It is here maintained quite the contrary of Dr. Stuckcnbergs view referred to above that ethics, as a science even, has scarcely as yet founded itself securely, and that no progress in moral philosophy (the meta- physics of ethics) can be expected until a science of ethics exists. We would add to Professor Schurmans description of the science of ethics as a branch of history, that it is also pr& minently a branch of psychology. Until we have a scientific psychological ethics we can have no well-founded moral philosophy. The gist of the authors well-argued contention against the con- clusions of evolutionary ethics is given in chapter iv (see p. 152 f.) Natural selection takes advantage of the utility of morality, but no more determines its content and meaning than a positivist who passes over the essence of things. The mechanical theory of conscience regards the germ of morals as merely an action, and notwhat it really isas an ideal of action. In other words, while the facts and theory of Darwinism help us under- stand how men come to hold this or that opinion as to what I ought, they throw absolutely no light on the origin of the feeling that I ought. EvoLuvIoN.*~In the words of its author: The subject of the following work may be expressed in three questions : What is evolution? Is it true? MThat then ? (See Preface). Pro- fessor LeConte finds the answer to his first question in the enun- ciation of the three laws of differentiation, progress, and cyclical movement. The differentiation consists in the increasing variety of form and limitation of function, or division of labor ; the law of progress is true only of the whole, and not necessarily of all the parts, except from the point of view of the whole: and the advance is not made uniformly, but by successive waves, each higher than the last. Not only this, however, but in order to complete his description of evolution, the author is obliged to * Evolution and its Relation to Religious Thought. By JosEPH LECONTE. New York: D. Appleton and Co. 1888.

1888.] Current literature. 71 has given us a lucid, entertaining and instructive book; it should be read by all students both of ethics and of the modern theory of evolution. He himself advises that the first chapter ( Methods of Ethics, evolutionary and other ) be omitted by the general reader not interested in the logic of ethics. On the contrary we advise every reader to go through with this chapter; it will not be found tedious even by those who are not special students of the particular subject with which it deals. It is here maintained quite the contrary of Dr. Stuckcnbergs view referred to above that ethics, as a science even, has scarcely as yet founded itself securely, and that no progress in moral philosophy (the meta- physics of ethics) can be expected until a science of ethics exists. We would add to Professor Schurmans description of the science of ethics as a branch of history, that it is also pr& minently a branch of psychology. Until we have a scientific psychological ethics we can have no well-founded moral philosophy. The gist of the authors well-argued contention against the con- clusions of evolutionary ethics is given in chapter iv (see p. 152 f.) Natural selection takes advantage of the utility of morality, but no more determines its content and meaning than a positivist who passes over the essence of things. The mechanical theory of conscience regards the germ of morals as merely an action, and notwhat it really isas an ideal of action. In other words, while the facts and theory of Darwinism help us under- stand how men come to hold this or that opinion as to what I ought, they throw absolutely no light on the origin of the feeling that I ought. EvoLuvIoN.*~In the words of its author: The subject of the following work may be expressed in three questions : What is evolution? Is it true? MThat then ? (See Preface). Pro- fessor LeConte finds the answer to his first question in the enun- ciation of the three laws of differentiation, progress, and cyclical movement. The differentiation consists in the increasing variety of form and limitation of function, or division of labor ; the law of progress is true only of the whole, and not necessarily of all the parts, except from the point of view of the whole: and the advance is not made uniformly, but by successive waves, each higher than the last. Not only this, however, but in order to complete his description of evolution, the author is obliged to * Evolution and its Relation to Religious Thought. By JosEPH LECONTE. New York: D. Appleton and Co. 1888. 72 Current Literature. [July. affirm that all these marvellous changes are accomplished by means of resident forces ; in other words, they are natural, not supernatural (p. 28). The obstacle of supernaturalism, existing anywhere in the realm of nature, having been removed in these modern times by the application of the doctrine of the correla = tion of natural forces to life, IDarwinism has been enabled to demonstrate the evolution of species by purely natural causes, through divergent variations and natural selection. On considering Professor LeContes very comprehensive view of evolution we find it involving various assumptions that have by no means the same evidence in their favor. When he pro- ceeds, then ,in answer to the question, Is evolution true ?to affirm that evolution is no longer a school of thought; . for the law of evolution is as certain as the law of gravitation; nay it is far more certain (p. 66), he goes far beyond the point where the present position of scientific discovery can sustain him. Indeed, he seems, in some sort to suppose, that the hypothesis which derives all forms of animal life from one form or from a very few forms, of the lowest life, by direct descent, under the principles of chance variation and natural selection, is equivalent to grounding all existence in the two principles of continuity and sufficient reason. Professor LeContes treatment of the special proofs of evolu- tion seems to us admirable,clear, thorough, compact, and yet popular. Nor are the candor and vigor less admirable, with which he treats the question: Ia case evolution be true, what follows with regard to our religious belief? In his answer to this last question we find little from which to dissent. Indeed the principal fault to be found with the book concerns its strong overstatement of the confidence which can at i)resent be had, or probably can ever be attained, in any theory which derives, by natural descent, all the existing forms of life from prei~xisting forms. Darwinian evolution has still a great many formidable obstacles to overcome. We arc willing to wait for it to over- come them; but it is as yet quite too early to think of putting it, for certainty, above the law of gravitation. All who are interested in the question of evolution will, never- theless, profit much by reading Professor LeContes works.

NEW ENGLANDER AND YALE I~EVIEW. No. CCXXI. AUGUST, 1888. ARTICLE I. GOVERNOR CHAMBERLAINS ADMINIS- TRATION IN SOUTH CAROLINA. Governor Chamberlains Administration in South Carolina: A Chapter of Reconstruction in the Southern States. iI3y WALTER ALLEN. New York: G. P. Putnams Sons. Svo. 1888. Mn. ALLENS history of Governor Chamberlains administra- tion is the first attempt which has been made to give a popular account of southern reconstruction. He has done his work well. The material which he has had at command is ample, complete, authoritative, and is well arranged according to subject matter and chronology. There can be no question that Governor Chamberlains administration is the most interesting in the whole period of republican reconstruction in the South. To begin with, the nian himself has an attrac- tive personality. In addition to a scholarly diction and a liter- ary merit of high order displayed in his public utterances, VOL. XIII. 6 74 Governor Chamberlains Administration [Aug., Governor Chamberlain has great force and decision of char- acter and singnlar administrative ability. His conrageous, conscientious republicanism is proved by his words and his acts; and in respect of this quality especially no man of the times in the Sonth was his peer. His administration was a trying ordeal. l3ut no taint of dishonesty, no suspicion of a disreputable motive, which it was in Governor Chamberlains power to prevent, attaches to it. By his skillful control of affairs of State, there arose such a hope of political quiet and industrial progress under negro suffrage as had never been experienced before. His administration was the best as it was the last republican administration in South Carolina. The tragic events connected with the presidential election of 1876 gave the control of the State government into the hands of the democrats, and they have since maintained their political supremacy in that State as in every other State of the South. The portion of the reformative period in the history of the Southern States preceding Governor Chamberlains administra- tion has not yet been satisfactorily described. The historical material is accessible only in official documents, detached con- gressional investigations, public letters, and newspaper items. The evidence is fragmentary in the extreme, distorted by the refraction of excessive partisanship, discolored by prejudiced and hasty observation. But some facts which are well at- tested* may be mentioned by way of preface to the story in Mr. Allens book. After the surrender of Lee at Appomattox in April, 1865, the anxiety of a long war waged for Union and humanity was soon dispelled, and hope sprang fresh in the hearts of the peo- ple. Political sentiment, however, immediately re-distributed itself abont a new issue: How shall the rebel States be gov- erned? How shall the results of the war be preserved? The Confederate governor, McGrath, of South Carolina, called upon the Confederate State officers, in May, 1865, to resume their duties. Their attempt to comply was frustrated by General Gillmore. But military rule in time of peace is only a tem * McPhersons Handbook of Politics series, Pikes Prostrate State, Congressional documents, and the indexed files of the New York Times have been consulted. 1888.] in 8outh Carolina. 75 porary expedient according to the genius of our government. Some other arrangement had to be made at once. Two plans of reconstruction were tried at different timesone proposed by Congress in 1867, and the other employed by President Johnson in the interim. On June 30, 1865, by virtue of his authority as commander- rn-chief of the army, President Johnson commissioned J3enja- mm F. Perry, a citizen of the State, to act as provisional gover- nor. He was instructed by his commission to call a convention to alter and amend the State constitution and to enable the people to restore their State to its constitutional relations to the Federal government. Such people as would take the pre- scribed oath of loyalty to the United States in addition to satis- fying the requirements of the State laws of 1861 were invited to participate. A convention was duly held; the ordinance of secession was repealed ; a State government was formed as soon as possible; slavery was declared to have been abolished by the war; and the thirteenth amendment was adopted. l3ut the right of Congress to legislate on the statns of the freedman was denied by a resolution. It was evident from the temper of the convention that under this government the negro, though he gained his freedom, would only obtain the elective franchise under a property and educational qualification. Acquiespence in the results of the war claimed by the North was not so enthusiastic and complete as even President Johnson wished. As for Congress, it would have nothing to do with the presi- dential plan of reconstruction. It would not readmit the State into the Union nor its representatives to seats in the senate and house. Governor Orr was elected in October, 1865, to succeed Governor Perry, who had been appointed provi- sionally, and the affairs of the State were managed by civil officers, though the military authority was not suspended. More than a year passed before the quarrel between the president and Congress was concluded by the victory of the lat- ter. In 1867 and 1868 Congress passed the necessary laws over the presidents veto, and reconstruction was hegun over again. The South was divided into military districts. The States were required to accept the fourteenth amendment, which contains the civil rights and the rebel debt clauses, and 76 Governor chamberlains Administration [Aug., to grant universal suffrage to the negro, previous to restoration to the Union. Moreover it was made imperative upon the States by these acts of Congress that all males over twenty-one who should take the oath of loyalty must be allowed to partici- pate in the preliminary elections and conventions. The Su- preme court has given a decision affecting the validity of these laws; but the acts of the States, both under congressional reconstruction and under President Johnsons provisional gov- ernment, have been accepted as valid. In South Carolina, Governor Orr assisted the military coni- mander of the district under the new order in making the pre- liminary registration in the summer of 1867. The registration list included 46,800 whites and 80,500 blacks; 8,244 whites and 625 blacks were disfranchised. It was a foregone conclusion that the reconstructionists would be successful. The vote on adopt- ing the new State constitutionon the whole an unobjection- able doemnentwas 70,758, forwhich was a majority of the total registrationand 27,288 against it. In the constitutional convention and in the new State government there was a large proportion of negroes. A few democrats sat in the legislature for the upland counties, in which the white voters outnum- bered the black, but in general the color line was the party line and the native white influence in the government was inappreciable. In the known temper of Congress it is doubt- ful whether any success the democrats might have gained would have been permanent. There is little doubt that the old masters and friends of the negroes might have influenced the action of a considerable number at this time if the attempt had been made, and that their indifference helped the repub- lican leaders to attach the negro vote firmly to the republican party and to prejudice it against the democratic party. The new State officers were elected in April, 1868, on the same day that the new constitution was adopted. Governor- elect Scott immediately qualified and succeeded Governor Orr, serving two terms, until the fall of 1872. Mr. Chamberlain was a member of the constitutional convention and was attorney- general for both terms under Governor Scott. When it was altogether too late, the democrats severely but ineffectually criticized the enfranchisement of the blacks; an act which,as 1888.] in South Carolina. /7.7 statistics prove, gave the taxing power into the hands of the non-property-holding class, except that the edneational tax was by the constitntion a poii tax. The new officers, both whites and blacks, were called by the democrats a mockery of official dignity and integrity. A few of the colored members of the Legislatnre were intelligent men, and proved themselves artful parliamentarians and makers of convincing arguments; bnt the ne~~ro voter and legislator generally was a very ignorant person. The attitude of the black race toward the white was that of timidity born of many years of subjection; of the white race toward the black, imperiousness. The black man had no social position bnt he had a vote. These factsthe negros low social positioii, his snbservience to the white race, his belief that the snpremacy of the republican party was all that separated him from his old statns, his ignorance, and his well-known weak moral sense, explain how detestable he was to the whites, and how easily he might be made the tool of those who appealed to ins cupidity, or his prejudices, or his fears. A correspon- dent of the New York iliintes credits the notorions ex-Governor Moses with the sagacity to have foreseen, when he worked in the constitutional convention for manhood sntfrage, how use- ful the negro voter might be made. Now what happened in South Carolina in these conditions was a delnge of fraud and corrnption. Nobody did any- thing to prevent the impending calamity. There was intimi- dation of the negro vote from the very first. The records of congressional investigating committees prove this. Those whose pre~mninent dnty, as repnblican officers and leaders, was to help the negro establish his freedom and eqnality neglected their duty and used their position to pluiider the treasury. The plundering was done boldly. Some of the freebooters were carpet-baggers ; some were natives ; some were whites; some were blacks; most were republicans. The democrats, also, never hesitated to offer bribes when they had private bills to pass; and the national republican party did not interfere in behalf of its wards. The State owed in 1868, when Governor Scott was elected, a just obligation of less than $6,000,000, consisting of ante-war debt and provisional government expenses. The State was 78 Governor CAamherlains A dmini8tration [Aug., also liable for a guaranteed State bank issne and for some guaranteed railroad bonds. Then came a tremendous over- issue of State bonds authorized for refunding purposes, but hypothecated by the New York agent to secure short loans at panic rates. The Legislature, at the bidding of the ring of railroad bondholders, released the mortgages held by the State as security, without recompense to the treasury. The taxes were too high to be collected economically from the plantations impoverished by the war. Appropriations were made with- out reference to the revenue; and extravagant salaries, extrav- agant legislative expenses, scandalously large contingent ex- penses, printing rings, freedmans land-purchasing rings, rail- road rings and bond rings, encircled the treasury, absorbing all of the State~ s income. Indeed, F. J. Moses, Jr., speaker of the house during Governor Scotts second term, was author- ized to issue speakers certificates without limit and for indis- criminate purposesdrafts on an empty treasury, which circu- lated and depreciated until they were as worthless as the maker of them; and this notorious speaker succeeded Scott as Governor in the fall of 1872. The bonded debt had then be- come nominally $1QOOO,OOO. But ~6,OOO,OOO, fraudulently is- sued to redeem some guaranteed railroad bonds, was declared illegal by the courts, and, a year later, the remainder, with overdue interest for three years, was scaled fifty per cent. and refunded. The debt when Governor Chamberlain was elected was a little less than six million dollars. The militia laws were so niade that the whites were not will- ing to enlist with the blacks, and the black militia was both incompetent and imprudent. SherifTs, trial justices360 of them appointed by the governorand high court officers were alike inefficient. Where the abuse of the governors appoint- ing power had not made the State police system incompetent and venal, the rank abuse of the pardoning power nullified its actions; as little dependence could be placed upon the civil courts. Governor Scott, Treasurer Parker, Land Commis- sioner Neagle, H. H. IKimpton, financial agent in I~ ew York, and Governor Moses were among the most conspicuous plun- derers. Even Mr. Chamberlain himself was once indicted for complicity in this corruption. As attorney-general he had 1888.1 ~n South Carolina. 79 been an ex-ojficio member of the several financial boards which had connived at the jobbery. Zl3efore an investigating com- mittee appointed by the democratic Legislatnre in 1877, a former clerk of the Senate* testified that on one occasion, Mr. Chamberlain had received a bribe of $10,000. But the testi- mony of the men examined by this commission was so sus- picious that the indictment brought against him in 1878 was nolled. In his own defense, Governor Chamberlain abso- lutelv denied the trnth of the charges made and declared that he was in no way responsible for anything of a franduleut character. But his association in office for four years, with these men, however laudable his purpose may have been, made the publication of his record as governor necessary for his own full justification. In 1872, the Moses wing of the party got full control and Mr. Chamberlain retired from politics. The political de- bauchery of Governor Moses went beyond endurance, and there was unmistakable demand for reform. The pro igate governor was unable, in spite of characteristic efforts, to get a renomination. The place at the head of the ticket was offered to Mr. Chamberlain. He consented to stand for governor on a strong reform platform arid was elected. The conservative element of the republican party, as they placed no confidence in the men who nominated him, were disposed to distrust him. They ran a candidate on the same platform and with the aid of the democrats who made no separate nomination reduced the regular republican majority from 33,000 to 11,000 and elected one-third the members of the Legislature. Suffice it to say that the radicals, whose reform professions were mere pretense, were as much disappointed by Governor Chamber- lains conduct as tire conservatives. Nine months after the election, the Charleston News and con~ier said: In the light of his acts, since he has been governor, we say now that, how- ever much appearances were against him, it is morally impos- sible that he should have been either facile or corrupt. Such a man as he can never have been the man we did believe him to be. Other papers spoke as favorably. * See the Forum, June, t888. Negro Supremacy in the South, by Gen. Wade Hampton. 80 Governor Uharnberlain8 Admini8tration [Aug., Let us now turn to the incidents of his administration. How he endured all and how he acquitted himself will be judged finally by the full record, substantially included in this volume, as it shall interpret itself to the intelligence and the judgment of men capable of candid appreciation.~~ Governor Chamberlain was inaugurated December 1, 1874, in the presence of the Legislature. His inaugural address, which Mr. Allen prints in full, was a strictly reform document. The radical republicans resented it; the conservatives approved it warmly. It attracted wide attention outside the State. In everything for which the governor was alone responsible, Governor Chamberlain promised reform; in everything which belonged to the Legislature to do, he urged reform and prom- ised his aid, particularly in the financial measures. What he promised on his part he began faithfully to perform, but the Legislature paid little heed to his recommendations. Nineteen memorable vetoes of the first session were sustained only by the faithfulness of the fifty-three democrats and conservative republicans who had been elected to the Legislature by the opponents of Governor Chamberlain in the gubernatorial can- vass. The radicals tried to pass the bills over the veto but could not get the necessary two-thirds majority. A second message more explicit than the first, written after the annual reports of the State officers had afforded new opportunity to study the particular needs of the State, emphasized these general principles. Again when the annual tax and supply bill was in the Senate finance committee, he addressed a letter to the chairman pointing out a deficiency of 148,000 arising from the excess of appropriations over time revenue comitem- plated in the sanme bill; and item by item, he suggested how the appropriations should be reduced. Finally tIme bill reached him, unimproved, just as the Legislature adjourned, and lie vetoed it. The new fiscal year would begin before the Legis- lature reassembled and there was already a large floating debt, but a veto was the less of two evils. I at least, he declared, must be true to my pledges. The News and Courier said: In a word it is due to Ar. Chamberlain that, for tIme first time in six years, there was no considerable stealing durimig tIme legislative session, and that not one swindling bill became a law. 1888.] in 8onth carolina. 81 The pressing importance and diffienity of the necessary reforms absorbed all the governors energies. If he did not attempt to proseente the partieipators in the late self-snstain- ing, self-snpporting corrnption it was owing to his lack of ability, in connection with other duties, to wage war on that multitnde of criminals with a jnry of doubtfnl intelligence and inte~ritv. and a bench that was kept pnre only by his own extraordinary efforts. His neglect, of itself, was no evidence of personal delinqnency. During this same session the Legislatnre was called npon to 1411 two vacancies on the bench. As the time approached for the first election, the republican members of the Legislatnre held a cancns to choose a candidate. A nomination was con- sidered equivalent to an election. Governor Chamberlain entered the canens and took part in it. He demanded of his party that a repnblican of ability, whose character and integrity were above suspicion, shonld be chosen. He boldly denonnced a colored adventurer and politician named Whipper who was the leading candidate and indicated his preference for Judge Reed. a republican well and favorably known. Whipper then and there attacked him and his administration, and the caucus broke up in disorder. But Judge Reed was elected. The conservatives and democrats together were a majority in the joint convention on that vote. The second vacancy was filled with similar success. Ex-Governor Moses was the republican party candidate. After a few ballots it was evident that the democrats were joining the conservatives and that the con- servative candidate would be elected again as Judge Reed had been elected. To prevent such a result, the supporters of Moses transferred their votes to the democratic candidate, Judge Shaw, and he was speedily elected. This was not the last effort Whipper and Moses made to get a position on the bench of the State. Race troubles which broke out in Edgefield county led to another display of courage and tact on Governor Chamber- lains part. An officer sent to investigate the outrages found them aggravated, if not provoked, by the misbehavior of the colored troops, and he recommended that the militia be dis- armed. It was so ordered and donea very extraordinary and 82 Governor Chamberlain8 Adrnini8tration [Aug., gratifying solution of the difficulty, and one which doubtless resulted in the saving of many lives. Such were a few of the difficulties Governor Chamberlain had to struggle against in his battle for honest governmeut. They illustrate both the degradation of South Carolina politics and the courage and determination of the man who in every struggle was successful, never yielding an inch to the disrepu- table element in his own party. In former years the democrats and the conservative republican element had worked together a powerless minority. Now they stood by Governor Cham- berlain and held up his hands. The events of the winter of 1874-5 had made Governor Chamberlain known and respected over the whole country as much as in his own State. Moreover, the centennial season then approaching was one of national rejoicing and favorable to the growth of a kindly feeling between the different sec- tions of the country. Governor Chamberlain was an honored guest at the centennial of the battle of Lexington, April 19, 1875, and at the centennial of the IMlecklenburg independence, celebrated in Iecklenbnrg County, North Carolina, a few weeks later. Many invitations of a civic and social nature, from parts of his own State and elsewhere, he had to decline, for lack of time to attend. In June, he delivered the annual oration before the Yale Law School. Mr. Allen says of this event: iRepresenting a community which had suffered dread- ful wrong through the ignorance and weakness of newly en- franchised citizens, and fresh from a desperate and determined struggle to rescue government from degradation by their as- sault, he asserted the substantial wisdom of the policy of which such happenings were a temporary consequence. To the Charleston Chamber of Commerce, on the occasion of a complimentary dinner, Governor Chamberlain said: This de- monstration of kindly feeling from the business men of Charleston strengthens me. I feel stronger to-day in the path of duty than I have felt since I entered upon the arduous and thorny pathway of governor of South Carolina. If the Legislature at its next session, lie said in public at another time, if the Legislature will co6perate with me, I undertake to say that all our State taxation can be reduced below one 1888.] in South carolina. 83 per cent. And now, who is there bold enongh to say that this onght not to be done ~ . . . And what I say of the State expenditnres applies, I believe, with eqnal trnth to yonr connty and city expenditnres. The New8 and courier said: To Governor Chamberlain it was left to annonnce his resoln- tions and pnrposes in fanltless English, which serves as the silk glove to the hand of iron. This ontbnrst of enthnsiasm was spontaneons and qnite gen- eral. Mr. Allen has collected proof of its non-partisan charac- ter. Certain insinnations from strong partisan sonrces that Governor Chamberlain, in all his pnrity, was so mnch the greater hypocrite and instigator of rings for fntnre plnndering, fell flat. Partisan politics did not enter into the issnes of the adminis- tration nntil the Legislatnre reassembled in the winter of 18756. Honest government vs. bad government had been the commanding issne. Governor Chamberlain waged the battle snceessfnlly for economy and progress; and so long as there was no election to misdirect pnblic opinion, people did not criticise him becanse he was at heart a repnbliean and stndying to advance the policy of that party. II3nt snddenly a political issne appeared as it were ont of a clear sky. Gover- nor Chamberlain had visited the State nniversity at Green- ville, December 16, by appointment. He delivered there a masterly oration on The Yalne of Classical Stndies,~ and presented the prizes for excellence in Greek to the honor stndents of the nniversity. Dnring his absence a resoln- tion to elect jndges which, in deference to his wishes, had been laid over in the honse nntil he shonld retnrn on the next day, was taken from the table and rnshed throngh. Whipper by a vote of 83 to 58, and Moses, by a vote of 75 to 63, were elected to sneceed Jndges Heed and Shaw who were expected to retire in a few months. The day of this election is known as Black Thnrsday. The recent annnal message had referred to the prospective election in these words: Legal learning, a jndicial spirit, and a high and unblemished personal character, shonld mark every man who shall be elected. . . If all these qnahities are * Published in the New Englander, April, 1876. 84 Governor C,4amberlains Adrnini8tration [Aug., not attainable, let the one quality of personal integrity never be lost sight of. After the catastrophe, Governor Chamberlain said: The couspiracy appears to have been care- fully concocted. The color line, the party line, the line of antagonism to my administration, all were sharply drawn. Still it would have been a great satisfaction to me to have been on the spot and gone down fighting if I must go down. This calamity, he added, is infinitely greater . . than any which has yet fallen on this State. . . One immediate effect will obviously be the reorgaiilzation of the democratic party within the State, as the only nicans left, in the judgment of its members, for opposing a solid and reliable front to this terrible crevasse of misgovernment and public debauchey. . . And it was my fondest hope, by peaceful agencies, here in South Caro- lina, alone of all the Southern States, to have worked out, through the republican party, the solution of the most difficult and one of the most interesting political and social problems which this century has presented. A heroic remedy was needed to preserve, if that were still possible, the advance which had already been made toward the solution of this problem. Governor Chamberlain refused to give commissions to Whipper and Moses and they were never able to obtain the vantage ground for the practice of corruption which they coveted, lie declared that under the laws governing the election of judges, no vacancies existed, that Judges Reed and Shaw having been elected, were entitled to a full term of service on the bench; and he issued to them new commissions for four years from the date of their ap- pointment. The record in certain adjndicated cases fur- nished authority for his course, and this interpretation of the law has since been sustained. Yet Governor ChamberlaTh would not have resorted to this technicality if Whipper and Moses had been suitable men. The rage of these men knew no bounds. Governor Chamberlain was the hero of the better classes of the State. We thank you and will do all we can to sustain you in what you have done, the business men of Judge Reeds district telegraphed. Mass meetings were held in many places; but th~ passing of resolu- tions urging the reorganization of the denmocratic party sud 1888.] in South Carolina. 85 denly made some of them conspicuous in an unfortunate way. Governor Chamberlains foreboding had proved true. Hitherto the democrats, too few for successful opposition, had submitted to fusion with the conservative republicans. Now, newly inspired, they prepared to organize in every town- ship; they began a desperate struggle to overcome a republican majority of 30,000 and to posssess themselves of the govern- ment of the State. Leaders of the democratic party in other States, iMir. Allen says, were even more anxious than those in South Carolina that party organization should be revived there in anticipation of the national contest. It was undeni- able that Governor Chamberlain had corrected the abuse of the pardoning power; that he had raised the character of executive appointees; that the tax levy had been reduced from thirteen and one-half mills to eleven mills, a gain to the people of $300,000 yearly; and that there had been a saving of $1,779,000 in the appropriations for two years for executive and legislative contingent funds, legislative expenses, salaries, and public printing, and by the bill adjusting the payment of the floating debt. The item for printing alone had been cut down from $300,000 to $50,000 yearly and might have been reduced still lower. I3ut the memory of all this reform was speedily blotted out of mind. In the campaign which followed in the summer of 1876 party supremacy became the absorbing issue. Superadded to it all, Governor Chamberlain had to fight to keep the corrupt impulses in the republican party in subjection to himself. The approaching national election made the leading politicians of the republican party also sensi- tive concerning the effect of Governor Chaumberlains action. Many of them had never relished his open and defiant hos- tility to a section of his party in South Carolina. For this reason Governor Chamberlain was led to write to Senator Morton, at that time one of the most influential republicans in the country, saying: The democracy of South Carolina was in perfect collapse. . . . It is doubtful whether national issues would have had force enough to have even induced a canvass of the State . . . under the circumstances then existing.. Their [XXThipper and Moses] election has sent a thrill of horror 86 Governor C~hamberlain8 Admini8tratiou [Aug., through the whole State; it has split the republican party in twain; the moribund democracy has awakened to new life and new hope. . . But I tell you no party can rule this State that supports Whipper and Moses, and to denounce us who are to- day denouncing the election of these men is to support them. Then followed the political conventions. The one to elect delegates to the national republican convention at Cincinnati was held early in the spring. It was the occasion of a hard struggle between the factions of the party, but Governor Cham- berlains eloquent defense of himself and attack upon his oppo- nents, made toward the end of an all night session, so won the convention that he was elected to head the delegation from which the radicals had set out to exclude him altogether. As the time for the republican State convention in Sep- tember approached, he made a tour of the State in support of Hayes and Wheeler and in advocacy of his own renomi- nation as governor. The tour strengthened him in the con- vention, and another marvellously successful speech, delivered toward the end of a fourteen hour session, finally secured for him the place at the head of the ticket. Finally, the disci- pline of the national party prevailed to make the republicans solid in the State. Some of the other nominations were not so creditable, and Governor Chamberlain afterward regretted that he had not forced the colored ex-speaker Elliott, candi- date for attorney general, off the ticket by another struggle in the convention. But his success in compelling the repub- lican party of the State to keep him at its head, relieved it abroad of much of the odium it had earned in six years of misrule. Meanwhile two opinions had divided the democratic party for a time. The conservative portion, led by the New8 and Courier, recognizing both Governor Chamberlains unswerv- ing republicanism and his value to the cause of reform in the State, proposed that the party should nominate no candidate to oppose him, but should turn its efforts chiefly to the election of capable mcii to the Legislature. It opposed a canvass of the State on strict party lines as hopeless, because the normal re- publican majority of 33,000 on the State ticket could not be overcome except by armed force. The straight-outs, fol- lowing the wishes of the national democratic leaders, suc 1888.] in South Carolina. 8~T ceeded, however, in calling an early convention of the party, and in controlling its action. A fnll ticket was nominated with Wade Hampton at its head,the News and Courier acqni- esced and the democratic party gave it solid snpport. The methods used in the election were those which had been sne- cessfnl in Mississippi, and were directed by men of experience from that State. The New York World said: Are the lion- est people of Sonth Carolina less desirons of reform than were their brethren of Mississippi ~ . . If not, let them, by a similar course, achieve the same snccess. The basis of the party organization was rifle clubs formed in every part of the State. Governor Chamberlain collected information of over two hnn- dred and forty clnbs with over thirteen thousand members and owning at least six thousand improved weapons. Even in the presence of the governor himself these clubs were demonstrative and threatening. When he was stumping the State iu August and September, they appeared to demand a division of time, and forced a hearing for their speakers on every possible occasion. The governor had defeated the worst acts of a corrupt Legislature; but against the armed democratic party he could not keep the peace. This was fatal, and was the beginning of the end of the campaign. The blacks are timid by nature, timid by habit, timid by education. A display of force unnerves them. This conspiracy, aimed, by the com- mission of crime ranging from threats of personal injury to murder, to destroy the freedom of a majority of the people and thus overthrow the lawfnl government of the State. In organization, in object, in conduct, they are neither peaceful nor orderly nor within the law. . . It is made the occasion of constant reproach that I am governor of the State and yet cannot and do not preserve the public peace. General Hamp- ton aud his followers are seeking to profit politically by uttering this reproach and declaring their ability to maintain the peace of the State. . . . The reason I cannot and do not maintain the peace of the State . . . is solely because the democratic party are the authors of the disturbances of the peace, the lawlessness and terrorism which they now reproach me with, and demand that I shall allow or invite them to sup- press. Quis eustodes eustodiet? . . . You [A. C. Haskell, 88 Governor Chamberlains Administration [Aug., chairman of the democratic state committee] know, as I know, that the republican voters of the State are not organized for successful resistance to the aggressions of the democratic rifle clubs. You know, as I know, that to call upon the col- ored republicans alone to suppress this lawlessness and terror- ism would be to invite or precipitate a conflict, the res nit of which would be to increase, rather than suppress, the lawless- ness and terrorism which now exists. In such an emergency my only reliance for effective physical force must be upon the United States troops. At one time all the United States troops had been removed from the State. On September 30, General Ruger had 583 soldiers at seven stations. On November 7, there were 1,526 at sixty-seven stations in the State,not about the polls but where they could have been easily summoned. The Hamburg massacre, July 8, the Ellenton massacre, September 1620, and not less than fifty murders, belong to this grim chapter. Governor Chamberlains own life was at times in danger. They have for the most part evaded punishment by reason of their numbers and the terror inspired both in their victims and in the officers of the law. . . A constable or a sheriff with a colored posse would have been massacred in an attempt to execute the law. Election day passed without bloodshed. The democrats re- lied on the effect of their previous intimidation and on frauds to give them success, and doubtless they restrained themselves a little, knowing that violence would bring them into special disrepute the country over. Events transpired rapidly. The votes were counted, as cast, by the county canvasserstwo re- publicans and one democrat in each case, appointed by the governor. The face of the returns showed time election of the republican presidential electors, the democratic governor, and a democratic majority of one in the Legislature. The county canvassers reported the returns to the State Board of Canvas- sers which was composed of the State treasurer, comptroller, secretary, adjutant general, and attorney general. This body, having judicial powers and limited by law to a ten days ses- sion for the performance of its duties, threw out the vote of Edgefleld county because the total number of ballots cast cx- 1888.1 in South carolina. 89 ceeded by considerable the voting population, and the vote of Laurens upon evidence of similar frauds invalidating the elec- tion in that county. This gave the republican State and national ticket a majority, but made two vacancies in the Senate and eight in the House. The vote for Governor had to be canvassed by the Legislature. The democrats asked the supreme conrt, in this state of things, to give a writ of mandamus to compel the State can- vassers to perform the purely ministerial function of ascer- taining from the county canvassers returns what persons had the highest number of votes and certifying the fact to the Secretary of State, and a writ of injunction restraining the canvassers from hearing any contest or exercising any judicial functions whatever. The court deliberated and postponed ac- tion on these writs. Finally, of its own motion, it issued a writ to conipel the board of State canvassers to count and compare the returns of the county canvassers and certify the results to the court. This was the only writ issued by the court upon the State canvassers and it was complied with. If the court had enjoined them from going behind the returns, it would have deprived Mr. Tilden of all hope of the vote of South Carolina, which was necessary to elect him. If the State canvassers, be- ing all republicans, had been ordered to go behind the returns, the democratic control of the State might have been sacrificed also. The court was in a quandary. It was alleged, that it was proposing, by its dilatory action, to prevent the board of State canvassers from completing its work before its term expired by limit of law, and then that the court would canvass the returns itself. However the board of State canvassers completed its lawful work, deciding the contest and certifying its findings to the Secretary of State, and adjourned unmolested by the conrt. The legislature met November 28. The senate organized without difficulty with thirty-one iuembers and two vacancies. The house organized with only sixty niembers, including one democrat ,not a quorum of the full house (124), but a majority of those (hG) who held certificates from the State board of canvassers, and a quorum of a lawful house accord- ing to the practice of congress in iSGi and according to adju- dicated cases in South Carolina. The legislature canvassed the voL. xiii. 7 90 Governor Chamberlains Adrninistra~ion [Aug., votes for governor and lieutenant governor, throwing out the votes of Edgefield and Laurens counties, on the same evidence that had influenced the State board of canvassers, and declar- ing the republican State officers elected. Governor Chamber- lain was inaugurated for a second term with due formality and the republicans possessed the government of the State protected from the invasion of the Edgefield and Laurens delegations by a few United States soldiers placed in the capitol. The demo- crats secured certified copies of the county canvassers returns, organized a house with sixty-three members, inaugurated General Hampton, although they did not claim to have a sen- ate, and contested the right of the republicans to rule the State. Several months passed with the rival governments in this attitude while the attention of the country was occupied with the electoral count in Congress. At length on March 4, 1877, the day President Hayes was inaugurated, Mr. Stanley Mat- thews wrote to Governor Chamberlain. It has occurred to me to suggest, he said, whether by your own concurrence and co6peration, an arrangement could not be arrived at which would obviate the necessity for the use of federal arms to sup- port either government, and leave that to stand which is able to stand of itself. Such a course would relieve the administra- tion from the necessity . . of making any decision between the conflicting governments, and would place you in a position of making the sacrifice of what you deemed your abstract rights for the sake of the peace of the community. Senator Evarts was supposed to favor this suggestion. Governor Chamberlain replied promptly: I am wholly unable to see any line of con- duct on my part, consistent with personal honor or public duty, which would permit me to yield my claims to the governor- ship. I am equally unable to see any course which can be pursued by the national administration toward the government here which I represent; consistent with political or constitu- tional duty, which will not require it to support, against vio- lence or overthrow, the lawful republican government. The duty of the national government in the circumstances arose under the fourth section of the fourth article of the con- stitution which guarantees a republican form of government to the States, and under the law of 1795 in which congress 1888.] in South Carolina. 91 authorizes the president to act under the constitution when called upon by the legislature or the governor. A case grow- ing out of iDorrs rebellion in Rhode Island had been decided under this act and Judge Taney speakir~g for the Supreme Conrt of the United States had declared: By this act, the power of deciding whether the exigency had arisen upon which the government of the United States is bound to inter- fere, is given to the president. . . The fact that both parties claim the right to the government cannot alter the case, for both cannot be entitled to it. And the president must, of necessity, decide which is the government and which party is unlawfully arrayed against it, before he can perform the duties imposed upon him by the act of congress. Instead of deciding which of the two was the lawful gov- ernment of South Carolina, President Hayes attempted to act as mediator. He invited Governor Chamberlain and General Hampton to a conference at Washington that they might con- vev to him their views of the impediments to the peaceful and orderly organization of a single and undisputed State government in South Carolina and the best means of remov- ing theni, adding : It is the earnest desire of the president to be able to put an end as speedily as possible to all appear- ance of intervention of the military authority of the United States in the political derangements which affect the govern- inent and afflict the people of South Carolina. Several con- ferences with the president and the cabinet and with politi- cians were held in Washington. Governor Chamberlain, rec- ognizing the presidents determination to avoid the odium of military interference if possible~ argued: If the goverumant of the United States cannot properly under the present cir- cumstances, determine which of the two contending State governments is the lawful one, the forces at the statehouse are not, in any proper sense, acting to the disparagement of the rights of either of the contending claim ants~ but, on the contrary, they are holding the rival parties in an attitude in which each can pursue its proper remedies and seek a proper settlement of its claims My next objection to the with-~ drawal of the United States troops from the statehouse is that such withdrawal at the present time, pending the decision of 92 Governor (YkamberZain8 Adrnini8tratiom [Aug., validity of one or the other of the two governments, will be a practical decision in favor of my opponent. . . . If therefore the United States forces now stationed at the statehouse shall be withdrawn, they [the republicans] will regard that act, under the circumstances now existing, as leaving them exposed to the power and vengeance of the armed, illegal, u ilitary organizations which cover the State and constitute the politi- cal machinery of the democratic party. . . They cannot alone maintain the unequal contest. I certainly cannot advise further resistance. That which would be an imperative duty under other circumstances would become madness now. General Hampton claimed that there was no violence in the State, threatened or intended. Indeed it was impolitic for the democrats to commit acts of unprovoked violence. He said further that he was willing to submit his claims to the decision of the courts and that he could maintain the peace of the State without federal aid. In respect of this claim also it was ap- parent that the republicans had not the physical strength to resist him. There being, therefore, in the opinion of the president and his cabinet, no domestic violence and no ap- prehension of any the president has no alternative but to abstain from interference. The order for the withdrawal of the troops from the statehouse on April 10, 1877, was issued immediately. The frauds which had failed to defeat the election of the republican presidential electors in South Carolina did throw a passing doubt upon the re-election of Governor Chamberlain; and the national administration chose to let the State fall into the hands of the democrats rather than brave the odium of sustaining the republicans by the use of federal troops, whatever might be their legal claims to support. Governor Chamberlain immediately issued an address to the people of South Carolina resigning his office. To-day, he wrote, April 10, 1877 by order of the president whom your votes alone rescued from overwhebning defeat, the govern- ment of the United States abandons you. . . . IBy a new inter- pretation of the constitution of the United States, at variance alike with the previous practice of the government and with the decisions of the supreme court, the executive of the United 1888.] in South Carolina. 93 States evades the duty of ascertaiuiug which of the two rival governments is the lawful one, and by the withdrawal of troops now protecting the State from domestic violence, abaudous the lawful State government to a struggle with insurrectionary forces too powerful to be resisted. . . . I have hitherto been willing to ask you, republicans, to risk all daugers and endure all hardships until relief should come from the government of the United States. That relief will never come. . . . In my best judgment I can no longer serve you by further resistance to the impending calamity. Governor Chamberlain turned over the seal of the State to General Hampton April 11, and soon after removed to New York City. With his resignation the period covered by Air. Allens volume closes. At present there is undonbtedly great partisan misconception and misinformation in regard to the events of the succeeding administrations. IBut it is a noticeable fact, and one worth re- flecting upon, that after the republican party had incorporated negro suffrage into the constitutions and laws of the southern States, they were still unable to secure the actual political equal- ity of the black race, and that the States soon fell into the hands of the democrats, who from the first had been unwilling to grant political rights to the negro except under property and educational qualifications. Whether the democrats at the present time, in spite of, or perhaps by means of, a policy of fraud and intimidation, are going to work out the political equality of the negro on the lines which they proposed in the early stages of reconstruction does not yet appear. Such a result is not impossible in time. But the short regime of republican reconstruction served to change the political condition of the South materially from what it was in I8~7. Governor Chamberlain, though he was not allowed to solve the problem completely in South Carolina, believed that great results had been achieved. I admit, he said, that the State debt has been needlessly increased, and large sums of money raised by taxation have been expended in unnecessary amounts upon unnecessary objects, and that many ruthless, incompetent and dishonest persons have crept into public office. But still, over and above all these evils, we have this to show for republican rule in South Carolina: A free 94 Governor Chamberlains Administration. [Aug., and just constitution nnder which, so far as the organic law can effect it, the rights of all the people of Sonth Carolina are secured; a just distribution of the political power of the State between both the races and among all the people; a system of taxation which is, in my judgment, as correct as has been de- vised in any State in the union; a system of local affairs and local administration which is simple, convenient, and as unex- ceptionable as can be devised; a system of public education which embraces and extends to all people of the State alike; and now, after the first eight years~ experience under the con- stitution, a habit of self-government, and to the exercise of political powers on the part of all the people of the State, which would never have dawned upon the state except under republi- can rule. Governor Chamberlains estiniate is probably not over- drawn; and the effects of the partial reconstruction of the republicans will long have an influence in the South, whether the negro shall eventually attain to political equality under democratic party government or whether the republicans are again able to take up their unfinished work and carry it to completion under more favorable auspices than attended their first attempt. FREDERICK W. MOORE. 1888.] The Spirits in Prison. ART. 11.THE SPIRITS IN PRISONA NEGLECTED THEORY RECONSIDERED. WHAT the New Testament writers set out to say deliberately and as the main thing, they say, for the most part, with un- mistakable clearness. It is the snggestions they drop by the way, their passing allnsions, the things they take for granted, that give us trouble. About these, interest gathers. Their difficnlty gains for them a prominence which is in many cases undue, since the reason for their obscurity is often not that the thought they contain is mysterions, bnt that we have lost some simple elne to their meaning. The connuon ideas and presuppositions upon which all such incidental allu- sions in speech depend, vary from place to place and from age to age, so that it is just these things th t are hardest to nnderstand in a foreign or ancient writer. The words of 1 Pet. iii. 19, read in their connection, impress one as fur- nishing an example of this fact. There is here no hint, of mystery or of novelty. The apostle is exhorting his readers to patience amid undeserved sufferings at the hands of wicked men. He appeals, as he had done before (ii. 21 ft.), to the ex- ample of Christ as one who suffered, the righteous for the unrighteous. He refers to well-known facts of Christs life to show that our ills are for good and that they will end in *Among recent writers on the subject, the following may be men- tioned: REv. A. C. KENDRIcK, D.D. Preaching to the Spirits in Prison. Baptist Quarterly Review, April, 1888. PROFESSOR HINcKs. The Teaching of the Apostle Peter concerning the Scope of Christianity. Andover Review, April, 1888. PRESIDENT DWIGHT. Additional Notes to the American Edition of Huthers Commentary on Peter, Meyers Series. 1887, pp. 747757. J. M. USTERI. [I.] Hinabgefahren zur H3lle. Eine Wiedererwdgung der Sch~ iftstellen: 1 Pet. iii. 1822, u. Kap. iv: 6. 1886. [11.1 Wissenschaftlicher und pracktischer Commentar i~ber den 1. Petrusbrief. 1887. DR. B. KtYHL. Meyers Kritisch Exegetisches Handbuch i2ber die Briefe Petri und Judae. 5 Aufi. 1887. C. H. H. WRIGHT. Biblical Essays. 1886, pp. 138197.

1888.] The Spirits in Prison. ART. 11.THE SPIRITS IN PRISONA NEGLECTED THEORY RECONSIDERED. WHAT the New Testament writers set out to say deliberately and as the main thing, they say, for the most part, with un- mistakable clearness. It is the snggestions they drop by the way, their passing allnsions, the things they take for granted, that give us trouble. About these, interest gathers. Their difficnlty gains for them a prominence which is in many cases undue, since the reason for their obscurity is often not that the thought they contain is mysterions, bnt that we have lost some simple elne to their meaning. The connuon ideas and presuppositions upon which all such incidental allu- sions in speech depend, vary from place to place and from age to age, so that it is just these things th t are hardest to nnderstand in a foreign or ancient writer. The words of 1 Pet. iii. 19, read in their connection, impress one as fur- nishing an example of this fact. There is here no hint, of mystery or of novelty. The apostle is exhorting his readers to patience amid undeserved sufferings at the hands of wicked men. He appeals, as he had done before (ii. 21 ft.), to the ex- ample of Christ as one who suffered, the righteous for the unrighteous. He refers to well-known facts of Christs life to show that our ills are for good and that they will end in *Among recent writers on the subject, the following may be men- tioned: REv. A. C. KENDRIcK, D.D. Preaching to the Spirits in Prison. Baptist Quarterly Review, April, 1888. PROFESSOR HINcKs. The Teaching of the Apostle Peter concerning the Scope of Christianity. Andover Review, April, 1888. PRESIDENT DWIGHT. Additional Notes to the American Edition of Huthers Commentary on Peter, Meyers Series. 1887, pp. 747757. J. M. USTERI. [I.] Hinabgefahren zur H3lle. Eine Wiedererwdgung der Sch~ iftstellen: 1 Pet. iii. 1822, u. Kap. iv: 6. 1886. [11.1 Wissenschaftlicher und pracktischer Commentar i~ber den 1. Petrusbrief. 1887. DR. B. KtYHL. Meyers Kritisch Exegetisches Handbuch i2ber die Briefe Petri und Judae. 5 Aufi. 1887. C. H. H. WRIGHT. Biblical Essays. 1886, pp. 138197. 96 The Spirits in Prison. [Aug., blessedness. Christs going to the spirits in prison stands with his suffering and death, his resurrection and glory, as one of the things that make his life for us in part an example and in part a hope. The reference must have been easy to under- stand. A writer would not touch in this incidental way, for the sake of illustration and the enforcement of duty, upon something unfamiliar to his readers, something which would excite curiosity and set their thoughts wandering. This supposition is confirmed by the general character of Peters letter. It is a practical exhortation throughout. It does not aim to instruct its readers, but it appeals to what they know, in order to encourage them in what they have to do. It was occasioned by outward distress, not by theoret- ical doubts or vagaries, by persecution, not by heresy, thus differing from 2 Peter. It has a decided character of its own, yet in the literary aspect it is not marked by originality. It has more references to the Old Testament, in proportion to its length. than any other New Testament writing. It stays so closely by the thought and language of certain other N. T. books (especially iRom., Eph., and James) that the hypothesis of the writers acquaintance with these books is widely held.* In such a letter we should be surprised to find anything new or strange, and we are the more inclined to think that in the passage before us nothing new or strange is intended. These considerations may guide us as we turn to the passage itself: 1 Pet. iii. 1720. For it is better, if the will of God should so will, that ye suffer for well-doing than for evil-doing. Because Christ also suffered for sins once, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God; being put to death in the flesh, but quickened in the spirit; in which also he went and preached unto the spirits in prison, which aforetime were disobedient, when the long-suffering of God waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was a preparing, wherein few, that is, eight souls, were saved through water. The difficulty here is apparently not so much in language as in the character and connection of the thought. How came the writer to speak of Noahs contemporaries? What is the con- nection of the idea here expressed with what goes before and * Some, however, reverse this relation. (Weiss. K~hl.) 1888.] like S~jrits in Prison. 97 after? and what is its relation with other New Testament teachings? These are the main problems, and after all the ingennity and persistence with which they have been investi- gated, it cannot be said that they have been satisfactorily solved. Apart from differences of detail, two interpretations of the passage have been maintained, between which, as is snpposed, we are bonnd to choose. One makes the words re- fer to a preaching of Christ after his death to the spirits of men in Hades who lived before the flood. The other finds reference to a preaching of Christ before the flood to men whose spirits are now in Hades. The most obvions and perhaps the most obstinate diflicnlty with the first view is the mention of Noah and the men of his day. With this its advocates never know what to do. There are two general ways of regarding the matter. Some hold that Christ preached in Hades to none bnt those who lived before the flood. Others say that Peter mentioned these by way of example, bnt that Christ preached to all the dead, appealing to iv. 6. II3nt in either case, whether the choice was made by Christ or by Peter, for real reasons or for literary reasons, it is a hard matter to acconnt for it. If Christ preached to these only among the conntless dead, why were these taken and others left? What was their pe- enliar n~erit, that they shonld be so favored? for the langnage compels ns to think of a preaching of salvation, not of doom. These men are painted in black colors in the Bible. They are not pitied nor excnsed. It is a bold thing to enter npon their defense, yet men have been driven to attempt it. Dr. IKendrick finds in the delnge an extraordinary jndgment, typ- ical of the last, bnt not individnally discriminating, fleshly not spiritnal, temporal not necessarily eternal, destroying some perhaps who were not corrnpt, so that there wonld be reason for giving them the offer of salvation in the nnder- world (p. 219).* In iv. 6, the preaching is not, he thinks, extended beyond those already definitely named, bnt its pnrpose and resnlts in their case are described. Usteri ([II.] p. 150 f., 161 if.) is still bolder and thinks that the reason for Christs * Similarly Mr. Row, Future Retribution. 1887. p. 378 f. 98 The Sj~irits in Prison. [Aug., choice will appear with perfect clearness, when we consider that history is divided into two world-ages, terminated by two parallel judgments, that of the flood, and that of the last day. The ark was the means of salvation in the first age, the Mes- sianic redemption in the second. The rejection of the ilrst was not so serious a sin as the rejection of the second, so that Christ was justified in offering the second to those who had refnsed the first. In snpport of this, Usteri makes much of the mildness of the expression disobedient. The mention of Gods long-suffering would seem to make the sin of rejection greater, but Peter iuust have meant to say that Gods long-suffering waited only a short time (!) being cut off by the flood, so that these men were entitled in Hades to a grace which was not given in full measure on earth. That is to say, it was a time when the long-suffering of God did not wait. This theory of Usteris, stated thus baldly, but I believe accurately, is a most surprising phenomenon in a work of such scholarly merit. How can one think of dealing so seriously with types and parallels, and giving them such significance for reality? In fact, all attempts to acconut for Christs preaching to these men only in the under-world are utterly inadequate. Such a choice is inconceivable, and we cannot be- lieve that it was Peters thought. IBut if we turn to the other view, that Christ preached to all the dead, and that Peter named Noahs contemporaries only for the sake of example, the choice is scarcely less difficult to explain. Why did Peter introduce just these, and why so unconcernedly, as if it were a matter of course that these, and only these, should be mentioned? According to the view now most favored (e. g. by Weiss, Alford, Huther, Glider, etc.) the occasion is to be found in the comparison of the flood with baptism which follows (v. 21), and it is supposed that Peter had that comparison already in mind, and was leading up to it. But this assumes exactly the opposite of the natural order of thought. The only natural supposition is that the mention of Noah suggested the comparison, not the reverse. The allusion to Noahs contemporaries must be accounted for by what goes before, not by what follows. According to this theory the writers order of thought must have been something like this: 1888.1 The Spirits in Prison. Christ was put to death,made alive,preached to the dead, tke flood is a type of baptism,preached to the dead of that age, etc. So that an abrupt transition is accounted for by one, if possible, still more abrupt. Prof. Iiiucks makes no attempt to explain the reference to Noahs age, but stops with objections to the usual attempts (p. 841 f.). Alford considerately offers us the alternative of some special reason unimaginable by us. Il3ut we cannot overlook the fact that this part of the passage is carried out by Peter at greatest length, and that a theory of interpretatiou which leaves the greater part a perfectly unaccountable digres- sion is most seriously defective. Kiihl is perhaps most successful. He thinks that the writer singled out the men of this age because they were regarded as types of fallen humanity (Mt. xxiv. 3739), and because he wished to say: Christ through his death brought blessing to the souls in Hades, yes, even to the very worst offenders among them, and so may Christians become a blessing to their worst enemies by the way they suffer. This has the advantage, as against Kendrick and Usteri, of giving to the men of Noahs day the character they actually bore. If Christ had chosen them out for a peculiar favor, they must have been peculiarly deserving, but if Peter chose theni as signal examples of the unrighteous to whom Christ did good, they may well have been the worst of all. The objection certainly has force that one who puts such emphasis on judgment (iv. 17 f.) would not think of Christs offering salvation to the most guilty of all the dead (Usteri [II]. p. 1~33). IHut leaving that aside, there is a decisive objection to all theories which assume that Peter intro- duced Noahs contemporaries by way of type or illustration, whatever reason is given for the choice. It is that they are not introduced in the manner of illustration. In Matt. xxiv. 37 we read, as were the days of Noah, so shall be, etc. But Peter refers to Noahs days in no such way. He simply says of the spirits to whom Christ preached, that they were disobedient in the days of Noah, as if this described them all. Kiihl tries to escape this by appealing to the fact that the partici- ple, J e~eia~e, has no article; and this fact certainly deserves consideration. 100 fiChe Spirits in Prison. [Aug., If spirits in prison meant souls in Hades, and if Peter in- tended to say that Christ preached only to a certain part of these,to those, namely, who are defined by the participle as disobedient in Noahs day,then the article wonld certainly be expected, or even reqnired. The adjective participle was indeed nsed frequently without the article, but when it is not merely descriptive, but restrictive, the omission conid scarcely be allowed. Ou this point Kiihl (p. 209), Usteri ([I.] p. 28), and 1Iendrick (p. 211 hf.) are agreed. If we insert the article, then, the meaning would be: He preached to the spirits in prison, to such of them, that is, as were once disobedient; or, He preached to the once disobedient spirits in prison,not to all, bnt only to these. iBut the article is wanting, and the par- ticiple is not restrictive. Kiihl, therefore, thinks the rendering to be jnstified: He preached to [all] the spirits in prison, to such he preached [for example] as were once disobedient; or, He preached to all, yea, even to these. But this reads into the words too much that is not in the least indicated. It is true that the phrase the spirits in prison seems meant to incinde all of them, but no less plainly does the participle that follows seem meant to describe them all, to tell what they all did, to characterize them more closely, as Usteri says. But if this is so, an inference is unavoidable which Usteri overlooks, but which Dr. Kendrick makes with boldness and consistency, the inference that the phrase [spirits in prison] had been for some special reason applied peculiarly to the victims of the flood. These seem to have been known by Peter and by his readers, whether irrespective of Christs preaching to them, or because of his preaching, as the spirits in prison (p. 220). This seems to be, however improbable in itself, a valid infer- ence from the premises. The omission of the article certainly gives the impression that the writer considered the phrase itself sufficiently definite, not needing to be defined, restric- tively, by the participle. He writes as if every one knew who the spirits in prison were, and that they were disobedient in Noahs day. The significance of this will appear hereafter. Dr. Kendricks interpretation seems the only fair ontcome of the view which holds to a preaching to departed men in Hades. To be snre many speak as if the limitation of the 1888.] TA e ASpirit8 in Pri8on. 101 preaching to those who perished in the flood were purely arbi- trary, and could have only a dogmatic motive. Bnt why does the writer himself limit it and how can those who claim to follow the plain meaning of the text so readily overstep the plain meaning? They demand that we let Peter say what he said, bnt they go on to make him say indefinitely more than he said, because what he said seems so nnlikely to be what he meant. Of course the appeal is always to 4:43, bnt even admit- ting the connection of that passage with this,and it is far from self-evident,it is surely more natnral, with iDr. Ken- drick, to interpret the secondary and indefinite allnsion in the light of the main passage with its definite statement, rather than to reverse that order. It is nrged, again, that the idea of Christs preaching in Hades must have been familiar, so that fragmentary references would be understood. But even ad- mitting that it was so,1-and there is no evidence for it what- ever,this would not account for the selection of Noahs age, nor prevent the allusion from being in that particular puzzling and unfit for the writers practical aim. It would seem to re- quire as much ingenuity and afterthought to interpret it in the first century as in the nineteenth. Shall we, then, accept Dr. Kendricks interpretation? There are the greatest difficulties in doing so. That the phrase spirits in prison was appropriated, to the souls of antedilu- vians in Hades is sufficiently unlikely. That Christ preached to these only, after his death, is nothing less than inconceivable. We are brought, then, to this result: The stricter the exegesis, along this line, the more impossible the sense; and this is con- fessed by the almost unanimous effort to improve the sense at the expense of strict exegesis. Let us turn, then, to the other general theory of interpreta- tion, which understands that Christ preached in the spirit, before the flood, to the men of that day whose spirits are now in Hades. Admitting that Peter speaks of a preaching simply to the men of that age, it is claimed that such a selection is intel- ligible only if it was made in their life-time, not after their death. The idea of a special revelation to the men of a certain age is familiar and easy to understand. Another evidence that 102 The Spirits in Prison. [Aug., we are dealing with earthly history is that nothing is said of the result of a preaching of Christ to departed spirits, but much is said of the result of the revelation of Gods long-suffering at the time of the flood. It issued in the salvation of a few out of the general destruction. This long-suffering of God that brought salvation might well have been thought of as the deed of Christ (comp. 1 Cor. x. 4), or the preaching of Noah and the spirit of Christ in him may have been intended (2 Pet. ii. 5, 1 Pet. i. 11). Peter has in mind, then, a parallel between the preaching of Christ in that ancient day and in his own. The two ages were parallel, for the flood was the type of the last judgment, which was believed to be now at hand (1 Pet. iv. 7). Christs sufferings, then, in behalf of wicked men in this age, in order to deliver at least a few from a world about to perish, would be matched by the long-suffering of God before the flood by which a few were saved. Even the man- ner of the salvation was similar in the two cases, being on the condition of faith and through the medium of water. Now beyond question this gives a good and appropriate sense. It is in accordance with Peters liking for Old Testament illus- trations. Above all it gives a rational account of the mention of Noah, though it does not save from abruptness the first transition, which it puts before, instead of after, verse 19. It has moreover a small but weighty following among scholars.* The difficulty with it, however, is even more obvious and more obstinate than in the other case. The view is in itself reason- able and attractive, but it is not what Peter says. He says Christ preached unto the spirits in prison which aforetime were disobedient~ and this cannot by any fair treatment be made to mean, He preached to those who are now spirits in prison, when they were once disobedient. Schweizer admits the dif- ficulty for he would like to change the text, and though he pro- fesses that it is not necessary, he does not succeed in proving it. We have then two theories, of which the first is better grounded exegetically, but yields statements which cannot be put into a consistent and reasonable connection with one an- * Apart from minor differences, Schweizer, von Hofmann, von Soden, C. H. H. Wright, Salmond. 1888.] like Spirit8 in Pri8on. 103 other, while the second gives an appropriate course of thought, but does nuwarrantable violence to the writers language. This leaves us in a serious dilemnia. What seems to be said can scarcely have been meant, and what might well have been meant is not said. This is the more puzzling in view of what was said at the outset; for it seems certain that the apostle has here expressed clearly a definite and evident thug, it is surely far more likely that we have lost the simple key to the passage, than that he made the lock hopelessly intricate. Under these circumstances it seems strange that a suggestion made by iBaur* has been thought worthy of so little attention. Both the theories hitherto considered have taken for granted that the spirits in prison meant the souls of departed men in ilades. Baur denies this and says that the reference is to the sinful angels of whom it is said, in 2 Pet. ii. 4, that God cast them down to Tartarus, and committed them to pits (or chains) of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment. They are the angels who, in Gen. vi. 11, fell away from God, and became the cause of so great corruption that the whole time from the fall of the angels to the coming of the flood was described as the period when the long-suffering of God waited. To these spirits in their prison-house Christ went and preached, after he had preached to men in the flesh, and before he was exalted above all angels in heaven (v. 22). Leaving for later remark the details of Il3aurs view, which were not very thoroughly, nor, in some respects, very happily, worked out, T wish now to consider the passage anew in the light of this suggestion. The original meaning of Gen. vi. 14, it is beyond our purpose to discuss. That a fall of angels is there recorded which re- sulted in a race of giants and an age of violence and corruption, is the opinion of most modern scholars, including Dillmann and Delitzsch. The matter of importance for us, however, is that this was the prevalent interpretation in the last two centuries be- fore Christ, and in the first century after.t Accepting the * Theol. Jahrbt~cher 1856, p. 214219, and Neutest. Theologie, p. 291 293. See, for example, LXX, Alex. text; Josephus, Ant. 1, 3,1; Philo, De gigantibu*. 104 [Jibe Spirits in Prison. [Aug., narrative in this sense, curious questions would naturally arise as to the fate of the angels whose sill had consequences so far- reaching and tragical. These guilty spirits must, it would be thought, have received at Gods hand a punishment answering to that visited upon men in the flood. Thus arose an account of the fate of the angels which, in its main features, gained wide currency and even found its way into the New Testament. It is found recorded first in the Book of Enoch, where, after an account of the fall and of the corruption with which the world was filled, we read that an angel was sent to warn Noah of the impending deluge, and others to bind the fallen spirits and imprison them until the end of the world, when they, together with wicked men, should be judged and punished.* And again the Lord spoke to Rufael: Bind Azazel [leader of the sinning angels] hand and foot, and put him in the darkness; make an opening in the desert, which is in Dudael, and put him there. And lay upon him rough and pointed rocks, and cover him with darkness that he may remain there forever, and cover his face that he may not see the light! And on the great day of judgment he will be cast into the fire (x. 4--6). The other angels are given into the hands of Michael who is told to bind them under the hills [Greek, in the ravines] of the earth for seventy generations, till the day of their judgment and of their end, till the last judgment has been passed for all eternity. And in those days they will be led to the abyss of fire, in torture and in prison they will be locked for all eternity (x. 12, 13). The place of their temporary detainment is described elsewhere as an abyss of the earth, narrow and deep and terrible and dark~~ (lxxxviii. 1, 3). This then was the fate of the angels, a preliminary imprison- ment from the time of the flood, and a final punishment at the end of the world. The summary mention of them in Jude corresponds with this perfectly. And angels which kept not their own principality, but left their proper habitation, he hath kept in everlasting bonds under darkness unto the judgment of the great day (v. 6; similarly 2 Pet. ii. 4). Now if one wished to refer to these fallen angels he could scarcely find words better fitted to describe theni than those of ~ See Schoddes Book of Enoch. Andover, 1882. 1888.1 Ike Spirits in Prison. 105 I Pet. iii. 19, 20, the spirits in prison, which aforetime were disobedient, when the long-suffering of God waited in the days of Noah. Whether Peter intended it or not, his language is singularly well adapted to this reference. These were spirits, and they were in prison; for though the Book of Enoch uses the word prison for the place of their final punishment (x. 13 [Greek, ~sajuo7-~pw ] xxi. 10), yet the abyss, narrow and deep and dark, in which they are already provisionally bound, de- serves the name no less, and in fact we find it called so, by in- ference, in the Book of Jubilees (x. 4, Schoddes edition))~ In Jude E~ and 2, Pet. ii. 4 the word is not used, but the reality is described. Again disobedient is the right word to describe the angels sin. It was an overstepping of their proper bounds, as Jude indicates, a transgression of the law of their being. The Book of Enoch elaborates this thought (ch. xv.). In a later addition to the book the fall is thus described: Some from the heights of heaven departed from the word of the Lord. And, behold, they committed sin, and departed from the law (cvi. 13, 14). So in the Book of Jubilees they are spoken of as sinning aoainst the commandments of their law (vii. 17) Disobedi- ence was thus conceived to be the essence of their fault, and we can not give weight to Usteris objection that the word is much too mild for this use ([I.] p. 23). Indeed he admits that the word is not mild in 1 Pet. ii. 8 and iv. 17. That the tinie of the disobedience is precisely indicated as in the days of Noah, goes without saying. But the refer- ence to the period of Gods long-suffering is also very apt, as may be seen by noting the position of Gen. vi. 3 (comp. vv. 2 and 4). Not only do the individual words seem perfectly suited to the proposed meaning, but so also does the form of the sen- t~nce in two striking particulars. The omission of the article, already discussed, becomes entirely natural if Baurs view is right. The spirits in prison would be of itself a suffi- cientlv distinctive phrase. There were no other imprisoned angel-spirits to be thought of but those who disobeyed in the * We cannot, indeed, rest much in matters of detail upon the lan- guage of books of which the original has been lost. voL. xiii. 8 106 The *Spirits in Prison. [Aug., days of Noah. It is no longer strange that Peter should speak as if every one knew who the spirits in prison~~ were, and that they wereall of them disobedient before the flood. The words quoted from Dr. Kendrick are strikingly confirma- tory of this view. One can hardly help finding here an argu- ment of decidedly positive force. Again the expression spirits . . . which aforetime were disobedient certainly suggests that the spirits were already spirits when they disobeyed. It would have been perfectly easy to say spirits of men who were once disobedient, if that had been meant. iDut if spirits were in fact intended, and not men, the expression as it stands is perfectly appropriate. We have already seen that if the reference is to the souls of men in Hades, the transition to Noah and the flood is a per- fectly unaccountable digression. With the view we are now considering, on the contrary, the transition is natural, and in- deed almost inevitable. It was precisely in the days of Noah that the angels sinned, and their fall and imprisonment were inseparably associated with the coming of the flood. This is a decisive reply to the only remark which luther thinks it neces- sary to make on Baurs interpretation, that it is sufficiently contradicted by v. 20. It is also an answer to Prof. Hineks objection that the writers assigning them a place in human history seems a positive proof that they are human beings (p. 338). In fact the angels deed had a most intimate connec- tion with human history, a definite place in it and an impor- tant bearing upon it. The language is certainly well adapted to describe the fallen angels, but, still further, it is not well adapted to the meaning usually taken for granted. Spirits would not suggest to a Jew, or to an early Christian, the souls of departed men, nor would prison suggest Hades. The word spirit is constantly used in the Bible of super- human beings, evil beings, usually, unless otherwise defined, as in Heb. i. 14, (e. g. IMIk. ix. 20, Lu. ix. 39, Acts xvi. 18, plural Mt. viii. 16, xii. 45, Lu. x. 20, comp. 1 Sam. xvi. 23, 1 Xi. xxii. 21, more generally in Acts xxiii. 8, 9, Lu. xxiv. 39.) Living men are never called spirits, though they are often called souls (1 Pet. iii. 20, Acts ii. 41, vii. 14, comp. IRom. xiii. 1, and 1888.1 The ASpirits in Prison. 107 very often in 0. T.). The question whether the dead are called spirits or souls must now be considered. The words spirit and soul (w~s~aa and ~buxi) in the New Testament, get their meaning from the corresponding words in the Old (mach and nepkesk). Although they are often used interchangeably when mans inner life in general is spoken of, and though they are not to be distinguished with the trichotoi tists as two substances, yet beyond certain narrow limits they are not used without discrimination.* Spirit is the breath of God, the com- mon source and condition of all life. Soul is the individual, personal being, that which, in each man, says I, the subject of the conscious life. The spirit is that which gives life, the soul is that which lives (1 Cor. xv. 45). At the in-breathing of Gods breath, man becomes, not a spirit, but a living soul (Gen. ii. 7). The spirit springs from God, points back to him, is divine in its nature. The soul is given indeed by God, but becomes the mans own, the mans self. A man is soul, he has spirit (comp. Job xxvii. 3). Soul repeatedly stands for the personal pronoun, spirit, never. Death is called a giving up of the spirit (Jn. xix. 30), or of the soul (Acts xv. 26, comp. (Mt. xx. 28), but not in the same sense. The spirit is never said to die or to be killed, though this may be said of the soul (Mt. x. 28, Mk. iii. 4, comp. Kum. xxiii. 10, Ezek. xiii. 19). At mans death God is said to gather unto himself his spirit and his breath (Job xxxiv. 14, comp. Ps. civ. 29), or the spirit is said to return to him who gave it (Eceles. xii. 7, comp. Lu. xxiii, 46, Acts vii. 59); but the soul is not said to go to God at death. It is given up, required of man (Lu.xmm. 20), lost (Mt. x. 39, Lu. ix. 25). When the spirit that gives life departs, the man, that is the soul, dies. But this does not mean that it is annihilated. There is a shadowy existence in Hades, and out of this one may be raised to new life if God gives his spirit again. But Ilades is the place of the dead, not of the living, and a Jews hope was not continuance in it, but deliverance out of it. We come then to the main question whether men after death, in the underworld, could be designated by the words spirit and * See especially Cremer, W6rterbueh, 4 aufi. t886, and his article Geist des Menschen, in Herzog, 2d ed. 108 The ~Sjj~& rits in Prison. [Aug., soul, or by either of them. In the Old Testament neither word is directly so used. The deceased are called the dead (Ps. lxxxviii. 11 [10], cxv. 17 etc.), they that go down into the pit (Ps. lxxxviii. 5 [4], Isa. xxxviii. 18, etc). The tech- nical term ]?ephaim, the weak, (R Y. margin, shades,) is used a few times (e. g. Isa. xxvi. 14, Ps. lxxxviii. ii rio]). The LXX translators had already lost the meaning of this. word. More commonly the dead were described as they were when on earth (Is. xiv., Job iii. 1419, Ezek. xxxi., xxxii.). That they are not called spirits is only natnral. It was be- canse the spirit left them that they died, and spirit, as the breath of God and the sonrce of life, cannot die and has no place in the realm of the dead. The soul, however, as the mans individnal self, must, it would seem, be thonght of as in 1-lades, if there is to be any continuance of personal exist- ence there. Wendt thinks usage justifies the inference. He says, when the conception of a continued existence of the departed in Sheol, remote altogether from the divine presence, is expressed, it is the n~p/iesh (soul) that is the subject of that shadowy sad existence.~ For this he refers to Ps. xvi. 10, xxx. 4 [3], xlix. 16 [15], lxxxvi. 13. (So Oehler and others.) But these passages are not conclusive. When the Psalmist says, thou hast brought up my soul from Sheol, lie means, thou hast kept me alive (xxx. 4). To deliver ones soul from the hand of Sheol, is simply to live and not see death (Ps. lxxxix. 49 [48], comup. Prov. xxiii. 13, 14). Such expressions do not imply that the soul is still called soul jn Sheol, any more than the expression to save oneself from death implies that one will still be himself after death. In the Old Testament, then, the dead in ilades are certainly never referred to as spirits, and never directly as souls. The spirit does not enter Hades, and it is doubtful whether the soul, as such, does. Cremer, however, following the usual opinion, gives it as one of the distinctions in the use of the two words that the dead are designated as spirits, Lu. xxiv. 37, 39, Acts xxiii. 8, f., ileb. xii. 23, 1 Pet. iii. 19, while on the contrary the souls of lAie * Wendt, Die Begriffe Fleisch und Geist, etc., quoted in Dicksons St. Pauls Use of the Terms Flesh and Spirit, p. 417. 1888.] The S irits in Prison. 109 dead are indeed spoken of [?1, but they themselves are uot, like the living, called souls. Soul designates always the individual existence in this world, never in the condition brought about by death. So that the peculiar distinction seems to result that the living were called souls, and the dead, spirits (Herzog2 V.. p. 3). This is indeed peculiar, and we do not wonder that Cremer leaves it hastily with the remark that it has simply nothing at all to do with the relation of spirit and soul, or with the word spirit in its psycholo ical significance. In fact this supposed distinction does not agree with the relation of the two words as Cremer himself defines it, agreeing with many others, namely, that while soul serves for the designation of the in- dividual, the subject of the life, spirit is never used of the sub- icet itself, is never the designation of the individual as such. Spirit, as independent subject, is always another than the hum an spirit. But what of the passages which compel Cremer, against his will. to think that the dead were called spirits ~ Lu. xxiv. 37, says that when Christ suddenly appeared to his disciples, after his resurrection, they were terrified . . . and supposed that they beheld a spirit. But did they think of a human spirit from Hades ~ So Meyer says, but it is surely more natural to find here no exception to common usage. They thought, as it would sceum, of a being not human, a spirit by nature, not by the misfortune of death. Christs words (v. 39), a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye behold me having, seem meant to describe, not a being violently deprived of flesh and bones by death, but one whose nature it was to be without them. The word apparition, or spectre, in a related passage (Mt. xiv. ~%3), points to somnething superhuman. And in Job iv. 15, the word spirit is probably used in the same way. In Acts xxiii. 8, we read, the Sadducees say that there is no resurrection, neither angel, nor spirit: but the Pharisees confess both, they confess, that is to say, on the one hand, the resur- rection, and, on time other, angel and spirit, these two being thought of together (Meyer). Spirit seems to be used here as the more general term for all bodiless beings. But it is cer- tainly not necessary, with Meyer, to go beyond what is written and affirm that to the category of spirits belonged the spirits of 110 The Spirits in Prison. [Aug., the departed. We need only to bear in mind Cremers state- ment that spirit, as independent snbject, is always another than the human spirit, and to note that in the following verse the spirit here thonght of is nndeniably an independent snbjeet, having, moreover, like the angel, more than human knowledge. In Ileb. xii. 23, we read of the spirits of just men made perfect. In regard to this expression, of which mnch is made, two things are to be noted, (1) that the spirits are here clearly defined as the spirits of men, (2) that they are not in Jiades but ~n heaven, which makes a very great difference. They might there be called spirits, bnt they wonld no longer be called dead, nor in prison. This passage certainly does not prove that Kpirits alone, may mean sonls of the dead in the nndcrworh~. We are left then with the passage in Peter. If this had not seemed so nnamnbignons, the others would surely not have been accepted as proving that the dead were called spirits. Are they then called souls in the N. T.? Rev. vi. 9, and xx. 4, are appealed to. The representation is so far symbolical that it is not easy to get the writers underlying conception. But at all events the scene here again is not in the region of the dead, but, in one case, in heaven, in the other, in the IVIes- sianic kingdom. There is left only Acts ii. 27, a quotation of Ps. xvi. 10, already mentioned. It is significant that the word soid is omitted in verse 31 [R. Y.] Yet it would appear from this passage that souls could be spoken of as in Hades. We may at least say of the New Testament as of the Old, that the use of the word souls for the dead in Hades cannot be denied so positively as the use of the word spirits, for the argument against the latter usage does not rest on the meaning of a few passages, but on the fundamental Biblical conception of the nature of the spirit in man. It was divine in its origin, and was the source of mans life. It could be said, The soul that sinneth, it shall die (Ezek. xviii. 4). But the spirit could neither sin nor die. As a result of the study of this word, we seem justified in claiming a high degree of probability for three negative asser- tions: (1) that the spirit of man is never spoken of simply as spirit, whether during his life or after his death; (2) that mans 1888.] The Spirits in Prison. 111 spirit does not go into Hades; (3) that spirits could not be re- ferred to as dead, (against the supposition that 1 Pet. iv. 6, re- fers to iii. 19). The word prison (~uAax~) is used nowhere else in the I3ible for Hades. In iRev. xx. 7, it is the abyss in which Satan was bound for a thousand years (comp. vv. 13). In Isa. xxiv. 21, 22, it is used (LXX. ~s~awz~peo~) of the place of the tem- porary confinement of angel-princes whom God had over- thrown. Mr. Wright (p. 165ff.) appeals to this passage as an example of the use of prison for the place in which the unrighteous dead are thought of as awaiting their final doom and punishment. But it is evident that the superhuman beings, the high ones on high, are foremost in the prophets mind, and that his language is adapted to them, while the kings of the earth only share the Cl ownfall and imprisonment of their heavenly patrons. The prison here is not Hades, where the dead are gathered, but a place where angels are confined. Hades does indeed have gates (Job xxxviii. IT, Mt. xvi. 18), and keys (Rev. i. 18), but these rather symbolize the mystery and the strength of death, than indicate a place from which men might try to escape. There is no talk of binding the dead, as angels are bound (2 Pet. ii. 4, Jude 6, 11ev. xx. 1, 2), perhaps because death itself bronght men such weakness and loss. Only spirit-beings needed chains and a prison-house, and only after the resurrection and the last judgment did the wicked go to the place prepared for the devil and his angels (Mt. xxv. 41). It is to be noted, however, that in 2 Pet. ii. 9 the wicked are spoken of as kept under punishment unto the day of judgment, with evident reference to the keeping of the angels in verse 4. So that we should conclude that the place of the wicked dead might perhaps have been called a prison, but that it is certainly not the natural snggestioii of the word. We must conclude, then, that the words before us are not well adapted to describe the souls of departed men, that they are well adapted to describe the fallen angels of whom we read in the Book of Enoch, and that this adaptation extends both to the individual words and to the structure of the sentence. But can we fairly assume that the Book of Enoch, or the 112 like Spi~ri1s in Prison. [Aug., narrative of the fall of the angels which it contains, was familiar to Peter and to his readers? The book originated in the latter half of the second century 113. C., and received nnmerous additions dnring a century or more. It was not a private writing, bnt rather a collection of the wisdom of cer- tain religions circles. There is abundant evidence of its influ- ence upon Jewish thought. Jnde gives direct evidence, and 2 Peter indirect, that it was known and read by early Chris- tians, which of course does not mean that they regarded it as sacred scripture. Dillmann (Henoch, p. LV.) finds other traces of it in the N. T. and thinks that the express testimony of Jude would not be necessary to convince us that the book was read in the circles out of which the first Christians came. It is clear that the book was much in use among the Jews of the first Christian century (see I3ook of Jubilees and Testaments of XII. Patriarchs), and though its intrepretation of Gen. vi. was afterwards rejected by orthodox rabbins, it reappears, un- changed, in the Cabbahistic writings.* The early currency of the book is shown by the fact of a Greek translation, of which the only parts now extant contain the account of the fall of the angels with which we are concerned. It may fairly be said that if allusions occur in the New Testament for which no point of connection is found in the Old, the Rook of Enoch is precisely the most natural place in which to look for their explanation. But the account of the fallen angels, including their prelimi- nary imprisonment, probably did not originate with this book, but was presupposed by it as familiar (Dilhinaun, p. XXXIV). It was common property, apart from direct knowledge of the book, and could be faniiliarly alluded to, as it is by Jude (v. (3). Admitting that such an allusion is possible, there is never- theless a difficulty in supposing that it is to be found in the passage before us. In the book of Enocim nothin is said of a possible deliverance of the angels from their prison, bnt they are to be kept there until the judgment, a representation which Jude and 2 Peter follow. Usteri ([I.] p. 22) thinks this a de- cisive objection to l3aurs theory. II3aur himself admitted that See Delitzsch and Dillmann on Gen. vi. 1-4. Edersheim, Life and Times of Jesus, App. XIII., and especially Grfinbaum, in Zeitsehrift d. Deutschen morqenldndisehen Geseilsehaft, xxxi. pp. 231 if. 1888.1 The Spirits in Prison. 113 the angels were incapable of redemption, and inferred that the preaching conid be only an annoniicement of judgment; but this view is excluded by the nse of the word elsewhere for a preaching of the gospel, and by the general thonght of the pass- age. The objection stands then that there is in Peters allnsion an element not to be fonnd in the II3ook of Enoch, and contra- dictorv to what is fonnd there. The idea of the angels chang- ing for the better was not, indeed, entirely foreign to Jewish thonght, for in a late addition to the book there is a hint that the preliminary jndgment of the angels will be for their heal- ing (lxvii. 13). The prevailing thonght is, however, that their case is hopeless, that they await jndgment withont mercy (xii. 5, 6, xiv. 5, xvi. 4). Yet the conception is not that they are by nature incapable of change, bnt that their sin was too great to be forgiven. This appears clearly in ch. xii-xvi. Through Noah they petition God for forgiveness, which is denied them on acconnt of the enormity of their crime. These spirits were not demons, evil by natnre, not angels of Satan (Mt. xxv. 41, Rev. xii. 7, 9), not the hostile powers whom Paul describes (Eph. vi. 12~, bnt angels created pnre and of high dignity, who had fallen by a deed of sin, had become subject to Satan (Enoch liv. 6), and were nnder jnst condemnation. That is, their case corresponded precisely in the spirit-world to the case of man on earth .~ This correspondence is not accidental nor insignificant. It was a characteristic of later Jewish thonght to conceive that whatever happened on earth was matched by an event in the spirit-world. Even in the Old Testament we find the thought that every nation has its angel-prince whose deeds and fortunes answered to those of the nation, and in some sense determined them.t In like manner the individnal had his representative and counterpart in the invisible world (Mt. xviii. 10, Acts xii. * The idea that Satan and his angels fell from original holiness is not to be found in the Bible. The conception of Lu. x. 18 is very different (comp. Rev. xii. 9, Jn. xii. 31). The devil sinneth from the begin- ning (1 Jn. iii. 8). He was a murderer from the beginning (Jn. viii. 44). Satan was never an angel of light, though he can assume the form of one (2 Cor. xi. 14). There is no reference to such a fall in Jn. viii. 44, 1 Tim. iii. 6, 2 Pet. ii. 4, or elsewhere. f See Deut. iv. 19, xxxii. 8, LXX., Isa. xxiv. 21. if., Dan. x. 13, 20, 21, and comp. Sirach xvii. 14 (17), Jubilees xv. 13, xxxv. 21, Enoch lxxxix. 59, if. 114 The Spirits in Prison. [Aug., 15). It is not improbable that the angels of the churches in iRev. iiii. are to be understood in the same way. Hea ~en was not at first the place of future blessedness, but the ph ce where that which was to be on earth was first transacted or prepared (comp. 1~ev. iii. 12, xxi. 2, 10). The on-goings of the spirit-world and of the visible world aiiswered to one another and were mysteriously and intimately related. This thought is developed in the Parables of Enoch (con- tained chiefly in chap. xxxvii.lxiv., lxix.), a production which differs widely from the main book in character, in occasion, aAd in ideas. In this book, the Jewish origin of which I shall take for granted (so Schiirer, iDillmann), the Messiah is depicted as coming to judge the world and establish Gods kingdom. He is judge of the righteous (lxii. 3) and of the wicked (xlv. 6, etc.) among men, and of the holy (lxi. 8) and the wicked (lv. 4) among angels. The wicked spirits whom he judges are none other than the disobedient of Noahs day. So that in this Jewish book the Messiah is brought into connection with the sinning angels, and his relation to them is the same as to fallen and sinful men. In both cases he is the judge. The parallel- ism is clearly in the writers mind (comp. lv. 4, lxix. 27). Now the most fundumental distinction between the Jewish and the Christian Messiah lay in the fact that the Christian Messiah was a saviour of sinners, lie will come again as judge, but he came first as saviour. Jewish thought, in spite of Isa. liii., had not risen to this conception. If, then, the Christian Mes- siah, the saviour from sin, were to come into connection with the world of spiritual beings, it must be that his relation to them would correspond with his relation to men, that he would do a saving work in the spirit-world among those whose case ans vered to that of man on earth, who had fallen from purity into sin, and were under condemnation, awaiting judgment. That Peter had in mind such a parallelism between the two worlds is sug- gested by the form of the sentence. In the flesh Christ labored for men of flesh, in the spirit for spirits, in like need. The thought would be in entire accord with Jewish presuppositions on the one hand, and with the new Christian truth on the other. It is hard to see why it should seem impossible, or give o erise; why it should not commend itself as true. 1888.] f/ike ASJ)i(Pit8 in Prison. 115 This seems to answer the objection that the il3ook of Enoch does not think of a deliverance of the fallen angels as possible. Certainly the book does not, and conld not, acconnt for the dis- tinctively Christian element in Peters allusion. For points of contact with this we mnst look to Christian sonrces. The importance of the place given to angels in the New Testament, and the closeness of their relation to Christ and his work, are often overlooked. They are present at the beginning and end of his life, and at crises in it. They are ready in mnl- titndes for his service (Mt. xxvi. 53). They will accompany him when he retnrns (Mt. xxiv. 31, xxv. 31, 2 Thes. i. 7). He is snperior to them (Heb. i, ii), and their head, as he is the head of hnmanity (Eph. i. 10, cf. Jn. i. 52 (51)). In him and throngh him and nnto him were they, like men, created (Col. i. 16). Even demons recognize and fear him (Mt. viii. 29), and over them he trinmphs (Col. ii. 15, 1 Jn. iii. 8). At his resurrection he is exalted as rnler over allheavenly, as well as earthly, powers (Eph. i. 21, f., 1 Pet. iii. 22). II3nt his relation to the angels is more than that of head and Lord. His redeeming work has significance for them. Not only do they witness and rejoice in it (Ln. ii. 9 if., xv. 10), bnt it is to them, as well as to men, a revelation of Gods wisdom. Angels desire to look into the things that the gospel declares (1 Pet. i. 12), and the preaching of it was even to the intent that Gods wisdom might be made known nnto the principalities and the powers in the heavenly places (Eph. iii. 10). That this knowledge involved for them, as for men, confession and service, is evident from Phil. ii. 9 11. God highly exalted him, and gave nnto him the name which is above every name; that in the name of Jesns every knee shonld bow, of things in heaven and things on earth and things nnder the earth, and that every tongne shonld confess that Jesns Christ is Lord. That this nniversal confession of Christ is bronght abont among angels, as among men, not sim- ply by an overpowering of resistance, bnt in part by a redeem- ing work, seems to be indicated in Col. i. 20, where it is said to be the good pleasnre of God throngh Christ to reconcile all things nnto himself, having made peace throngh the blood of his cross; throngh him, whether things npon the earth or things in the heavens. It is difficnlt, withont violence to the words, 116 f/ike Spirits in Prison. [Aug., to avoid the conclusion that Paul speaks here of a reeoueiliatiou, a changing from enmity to friendship, in the heavenly as well as in the earthly sphere. In view of these passages it can not be considered a thought strange or eoutradietory to the New Testament, that the gospel should be preached to angels for their salvation. There is in- deed in all this nothing of an appearing of Christ to angels with the message of redemption, though such an appearing could no longer seem out of place. It is possible, however, that in 1 Tim. in. 16, there is mention of such a visitation. He who was manifested in the flesh,justified in the spirit, seen of angels, Preached among the nations,believed on in the world, received up in glory. The phrase seen of angels in this ancient hymn or confes- sion has given no little trouble. cb~z~i does not mean simply was seen, but was revealed, appeared, showed himself (Huther, Thayer, etc.). It is used repeatedly of the appearances of Christ after his resurrection (Lu. xxiv. 34, 1 Cor. xv. 58, etc.). We must think, then, of a deed of Christ, a going and appearing to angels, as he appeared to Peter or to Paul.* But the deed is not elsewhere recorded. Huther thinks that the ascension is meant, but the parallelism of the two parts of the verse does not justify this. It is true that the first two state- inents in each half relate to earthly life, while the last goes into the spiritual sphere. But there is progress from the first two to the fourth and fifth, and so there must be from the third to the sixth. The two can scarcely be identical. Now it is worth while to compare the order of thought in this passage with that in 1 Pet. iii. 182g. Christ is there spoken of as put to death in the flesh, as made alive in the spirit, and as preaching to spirits; then follows a reference to the salvation wrought in his name on the earth, and then his ascent to heaven in glory. The striking thing is that in both passages, after Christs life in the flesh, and before his ascension to heaven, apparently as the first event upon his entrance into the spiritual sphere, he is said to have made himself known to angels. Some, indeed, * So that some even understand by angels, here, apostles (Thayer, Lexicon). 1888.] like Spirits in Prison. 117 maintain that angels, unmodified, always means good angels (so Meyer on 1 Cor. iv. 9). But a more general nse of the word seems implied even in 2 Pet. ii. 4, and especially in 1 Cor. vi. 3, and Heb. ii. 16, and would be natural in a concise, rhythmical statement like the one before us. It may not be aside from the pnrpose to turn to prophecy for a moment. We are reminded of the words of Isa. lxi. 1, to proclaim (x~p6~a. LXX. Lu. iv. 18) liberty to the captives, and of Isa. xlii. 7, to bring out the prisoners from the dun- geon, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison-house (~$ o2xou ~uAax~j~ LXX.), passages which may have influenced the language of Peters allusion. Isa. xxiv. 22 f. also deserves further notice. We read here of certain high ones on high who shall be shut up in the prison, and after many days shall they be visited, visited, not, as Mr. Wright and others think, for judgment, but almost certainly for release (Cheyne, De- litzsch). The argument thus far may be summed up as follows: (1.) The language of time verse fits the reference to the fallen angels. (2.) The idea of a mission of Christ to angel -spirits in prison would be easily conceivable by those born to Jewish ways of thinking, and would be consonant with Christian thought as found in the New Testament. It is believed that the reference of the words to souls of the departed in Hades fails at both these points. A few words must be added upon the order of thought, and upon the meaning of 1 Pet. iv. 6. In order to encourage Christians in enduring suffering for well-doing, the apostle appeals to the example of Christ who suffered, not for his own fault, but for the sins of others, and whose suffering issued in blcssin~ for them and in glory for him. In describing Christs sufferings and their outcome, a two-fold contrast seems to be in the writers mind. Christ in the flesh suffered for men, and even in the spirit he labored for spirits. In each case there was a glory, God-given, answering to the suffering. Put to death in the flesh, he was made alive in the spirit. Having ministered to fallen angels in their prison, he was exalted above all the angels in heaven. Christs preach- ing to the spirits, then, stands in a double relation. On the 118 The AS~pirits in Prison. [Aug., one hand, as his work in the spirit, it contrasts with his work in the flesh; and on the other hand, as a suffering for sin, it stands in contrast to the glory that followed. He served the lowest angels, and then ruled over the highest. That this last contrast, also, is in Peters mind, notwithstanding what intervenes before v. 22, seems to be indicated formally by the repetition of wopu?~ei~. The passage, then, harmonizes in its main thonght with that which has been called the key-note of the epistle, the connec- tion of snifering and glory in the Christian lifer (comp. iv. 13). Verse 21 certainly tnrns aside from the direct course of thonght, though it is not far from the fundamental conception. It oc- casions no very serious difficnlty when the first mention of Noahs age is perfectly accounted for. We now tnrn to iv. ~3. For unto this end was the gospel preached even to the dead, etc. If this refers to iii. 19, it would seem to jnstify interpreting that passage of departed men in Hades. Rut nothing in the language of the two pas- sages snggests a connection. The words are not the same, and it is scarcely possible, as already said, that spirits wonld be called dead. A study of the context makes it highly probable that this passage has nothing to do with the former one, and that the reference is to a preaching during their life-time to those who are now dead. This interpretation has been violently op- posed. Alford says, If za? v~xpoZ~ s ?-~e2& 1~ may mean, the Gospel was preached to some during their life-time who are now dead, exegesis has no longer any fixed rule, and Scripture may be made to prove anything. Such a divulsion of the verb from its object by an intervening change of state and time was precisely that against which we protested in he preached to the spirits in prison~ above, iii. 19. We, also, have protested against reading into the latter passage the meaning, he preached to men in their life-time who are now spirits, etc. But the two cases are not parallel. From the preceding verses it ap- pears that in the (heathen?) community here addressed the gospel had been preached. Some accepted it, others rejected it and kept on in sin, reviling and troubling their former com- panions who had become Christians. Peter gives assurance of justice to all in the end. Now it was a common thought 1888.] like AS jrits in Pri8on. 119 among the first Christians that those who rejected Christ, if they died before his return, thereby escaped the Messianic judg- ment; while Christians, if they died, were in danger of missing the Messianic reward.* It was in answer to such a tacit ob- jection that Peter speaks of Christ as ready to jndge the living and the dead (coiup. Acts x. 42, 2 Tim. iv. 1). Death would net deliver revilers from judgment, nor deprive believers of their reward. To the dead the gospel had been preached with the same purpose as to the living. Death would not interfere with its purpose and issue. Now it should be noticed that in v. o, those to whom the gospel had been preached are divided into two classes according as they are now living or dead. In v. 6. the second class is referred to again, and the same term is used as before, naturally and by an easy accommodation, though in a connection in which it is not strictly applicable. It is in this repetition of a term just used, that this passage differs from iii. 19. If one should say of the soldiers of the civil war that they all have their reward whether living or dead, for even the dead fought not in vain, it would not be necessary to explain that the dead were not dead when they fought. The words the dead fought~ are perfectly nuder- stood to mean, those who are now dead once fought.~~ That is like iv. 6. But if one should say, Grant gave orders to the ghosts who once fought in his army, we should think inevitably of a transaction in the underworld, and could not possibly interpret it of an event in the life-time of men who are now ghosts. This is like iii. 19. We cannot, then, assent to Alfords dictum. The interpretation, the gospel was preached in their life- time to those now dead, is strongly confirmed by the clause of purpose which follows, that they might be judged accord- ing to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit. It is generally held that the being judged is to be taken not strictly as purpose, but in a concessive sense, that, although judged, they might live. But even admitting this, we must yet suppose that the judging no less than the living followed in time, rather than preceded, the principal verb. ~i~a might indeed introduce something which followed an act, * Paul speaks against this error in 1 Thes. iv. 1318, and 1 Cor. xv. 120 The Spirit8 in Pri8on. [Aug., though it was not intended, especially if it followed as a natural or necessary result, as in this case suffering aud unjust death followed mens acceptance of the gospel, though it was not preached for that purpose; but that cz with an aorist subjunc- tive should express something which happened before the verb on which it depends seems highly improbable (against luther). How could we read, The gospel was preached to the dead in order that they might indeed have died, but might live ?~ The form of the sentence certainly favors the idea that the preaching came first, that it did not prevent those who heard it from being put to death in the flesh, that it was even the occasion of their death, which was inflicted according to the unrighteous judgment of men, but that death would not prevent the preaching from effecting its proper end in the new life given according to the righteous judgment of God. The passage must not be pressed too far. Its expres- sion is indefinite rather than universal, and its application is defined by the contest, as suggested. It certainly can not be used as a key to iii. 19.t This must end a discussion which makes no claim to com- pleteness, and leaves many points untouched. It has neces- sarily taken the form of advocacy. Its intention, however, is not to affirm the certain truth of the theory in question, but to show that it has been neglected rather than disproved, and that it deserves re-statement and reconsideration. ~ F. C. PORTER. * The difference of the two verbs in tense seems to imply no more than that being judged is a single act, while living is a continued state. f Among those who deny any connection between the two passages, see Usteri, Wright, von Hofmann. t Following is a brief history of this interpretation. The main points in Baurs theory were: (1) that the spirits were the sinning an_ els of Gen. vi. 1-4 and 2 Pet. ii. 4; (2) that the preaching was an announce- ment of judgment; (3) that it was mentioned for its christological significance, the thought being that of Eph. iv. 9, 10; (4) that iv. 6 has no connection with iii. 19, but rather sug0ests the Shepherd of Hermas (iii. 9, 16), where the Apostles preach to the righteous dead and baptize them.Hilgenfeld, in his Zeitschrift ffir Wissensch. Theol. 1860, p. 334, simply says that Baurs reference is right. So again, in the same, 1861, p. 213. But in 1873, p. 478, he says there is no reference to Enoch, but like Spirit8 n Pri8or~. 1888.] 121 departed souls are meant. He gives no reasons for the earlier opinion, nor any for the later, except a reference to Heb. xii. 23, Luke xxiv. 39. Volkinar, in the same Zeitschrift, 1861, p. 115 and 427f, accepts Baurs in- terpretation, but holds, against Baur, to a preaching of salvation. Ewalci, in Jahrbuicher d. Bibl. Wissensch., viii. (1856), p. 190f. casually remarks that I Pet. iii. 19 points to the Book of Enoch. In his Sieben Sendschreiben d. Neuen Bundes, 1870, p. 48, he says that Christ preached to the spirits held imprisoned (accordin~ to the Book of Enoch from which also Jude 6 draws) as he had hitherto preached to men. But these were selected only as examples, because the worst conceivable. For, from iv. 6, it appears more plainly than from iii. 19, that Christ preached to all the dead (p. 53). This looks as if Ewald had men in mind, not angels, and indeed he calls them the men of Noahs day~ (p. 47). Usteri conjectures that Ewald meant the giants, who were half angel, half man. That is, however, only a conjecture. Ewald does not say in what sense Peter refers to Enoch. He carefully avoids clearness, and seems to mix inconsistent views. Perhaps he wanted to avoid borrowing from Baur, or appearing to do so.Immcr, Theo- logie d. N. T., 1877, p. 48Sf., also accepts the allusion to Enoch, hut does not say in what sense.F. Schnapp, of Bonn, in a review of Kilhl, in Theol. Literaturzeitung, 1888, p. 28f., favors Baurs theory, and sug- gests in a few lines certain arguments, namely, that spirits in the N. T. does not mean souls of the dead, that prison does not stand for the region of the dead, and that the spirits are themselves, as such, said to have been disobedient. He refers to Enoch xii. 4, x. 4f, xv. 8, and lxxi. 14, from which it appears that he thinks of Noahs mission to the angels, and his announcement to them of Gods judgment, as the type or suggestion of the mission of Christ. He finds a further possible connection with Enoch (xlviii. 3) in I Pet. i. 20, foreknown before the foundation of the world. This, so far as I know, completes the brief list of those who have in any way favored the hypothesis. On the other hand it has received but meager notice from other writers. Alford does not mention it. Huther dismisses it with the remark above quoted. Kiihl has omitted this, and merely copies the common references, including a common error. The brief objections of Usteri and others have been stated in the text. in view of this record two thiugs are to be said: (1.) A theory which has found so little favor with critics has a fair presumption against it. (2.) It is to be observed, however, that the theory has never (so far as I can discover) received anything approaching thorough and consistent treatment either favorable or unfavorable. VOL. xIit. 9 122 Ri tory in Narne8. [Aug., ARTICLE 111.HISTORY IN NAMES. WHATS in a name? This was Juliets contemptuous ques- tion; and no one ventured to reply, because that charming young lady was in no mood to receive an answer. She didnt ask for information, neither did she wish to argue the question; but, woman like, she carried her point by gettin~ the last word - So it happened that it was suffered to go on record A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, which bein~ inter- preted means, there is nothing at all in a name. As a consequence the words have been quoted parrot fashion again and again by persons who think that a name is to a man what a collar is to a dog, i. e., something put on for the benefit of tax collectors and the like. But this is a e~reat mistake, and doubtless the heroine of Shakespeares great tragedy would have acknowledged it such had her lover been known by some less pleasing title. Had he borne the name of Bill Sykes or Jack Ketch instead of the romantic Romeo Montague, we may be sure that the tragedy would never have been enacted. Although we cannot fully adopt the theory of the elder Shandy that there are many who might have done exceeding well in the world had not their characters and spirits been totally depressed, and Nicodemused into nothing, yet we must acknowledge a certain natural relation between name and character. Take an illustration from Dickens Works. You can judge unerringly of each persons character as soon as you see his name. Pecksniff could be no other than the miserly rascal that he was withont changing his name. Uriah ileep is stamped a hypocrite the moment he is introduced. The names of Whackford Squcers, Smike, Mrs. Gummidge, Peggotty, Susan Nipper, Arthur Gride, and Captain Cuttle bring before the readers mind pictures of person and character so distinct and unalterable that the authors subsequent descriptions are almost unnecessary. Indeed had he taken the liberty to de- scribe them other than as our fancy paints them it would show a lack of the true creative genius so necessary to the successful novelist.

122 Ri tory in Narne8. [Aug., ARTICLE 111.HISTORY IN NAMES. WHATS in a name? This was Juliets contemptuous ques- tion; and no one ventured to reply, because that charming young lady was in no mood to receive an answer. She didnt ask for information, neither did she wish to argue the question; but, woman like, she carried her point by gettin~ the last word - So it happened that it was suffered to go on record A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, which bein~ inter- preted means, there is nothing at all in a name. As a consequence the words have been quoted parrot fashion again and again by persons who think that a name is to a man what a collar is to a dog, i. e., something put on for the benefit of tax collectors and the like. But this is a e~reat mistake, and doubtless the heroine of Shakespeares great tragedy would have acknowledged it such had her lover been known by some less pleasing title. Had he borne the name of Bill Sykes or Jack Ketch instead of the romantic Romeo Montague, we may be sure that the tragedy would never have been enacted. Although we cannot fully adopt the theory of the elder Shandy that there are many who might have done exceeding well in the world had not their characters and spirits been totally depressed, and Nicodemused into nothing, yet we must acknowledge a certain natural relation between name and character. Take an illustration from Dickens Works. You can judge unerringly of each persons character as soon as you see his name. Pecksniff could be no other than the miserly rascal that he was withont changing his name. Uriah ileep is stamped a hypocrite the moment he is introduced. The names of Whackford Squcers, Smike, Mrs. Gummidge, Peggotty, Susan Nipper, Arthur Gride, and Captain Cuttle bring before the readers mind pictures of person and character so distinct and unalterable that the authors subsequent descriptions are almost unnecessary. Indeed had he taken the liberty to de- scribe them other than as our fancy paints them it would show a lack of the true creative genius so necessary to the successful novelist. 1888.1 ilistory in Names. 123 No! names are not the empty, meaningless things that Miss Capulet and her followers would have us believe them to be. On the contrary, there is a great deal in them. They present an interesting subject of study from many points of view, and can be made to reveal a variety of unexpected truths. Let ns take a single topic, that of history, and see what a few names can tell us abont it. There is a universal history written in the names of all ages. From a well arranged catalogue of the principal names of different ages and lands we might con- struct a tolerably complete history of the world, giving the prominent characteristics of the various nations, their social condition and habits of life. Names portray the mind of the ahe that gives them birth. Every nation has had its pecnliar nomenclature, and that no- menclature has been created, modilled and developed by the circumstances of the national growth. It has been affected by varying degrees of intellectual culture; but intellect has not been the only modifying force. Names bear the impress of social and political movements also. And even religions de- velopments have stamped themselves upon the popular names. Let us take by way of illustration a few names from differ- ent periods of history and see how much they will tell us of the people to whom they belong. For convenience we will select names from only four nations, the Hebrew, Greek, iRo- man, and English. First of all we have the Hebrew names found in the Bible. From theni we will try to learn what sort of people the He- brews were. Earlier than the national Hebrew names are the names of the people who lived before the flood. Let us glance for a moment at these. The first man is called Adam, a name signifying Red-earth. The name tells the story of mans origin in a single word and a short one at that. Man was made from red earth. There is nothing in that word about anthropoid ape, or any other Darwinian fancy. Try as hard as you please, you cannot make those two short syllables disclose any such modern scientific ideas as the Theory of Development, Natural Selection, or Survival of the Fittest. Let your imagination frame, if 124 History in Names. [Aug., it is equal to the task, a name which could with any real fitness designate the first human product of evolution, and compare it with the name Adam. Instead of a word of four letters easily pronounced, we should have a name which would of itself fill a small pamphlet, aud which even the practised tongue of an Ojibway or a iRussian could never articulate. Again, what name could more fitly or simply express the universal motherhood of the first woman than Eve? The name means Life and points to her at once as the source of the natural life of the race. The name Uain signifies Acquired or Begotten, the most natural of all titles for the first child born upon earth. It re- quired a history to tell us the circumstances of the fall, but the nanie Abel, meaning Fanit or lamentation, reveals the con- sequences of the first sin as plainly as the most elaborate his- tory could do. In these and other names that immediately follow them is depicted a most simple and artless state of mind among men, the children receiving names from any circumstance which from its novelty or importance deeply impressed the parents. Jabal, meaning a Stream or TVdnderinq-one, tells us when men began to rove about, and we scarcely need the additional words of Scripture that he is the father of such as dwell in tents. The name alone gives us a beautifully picturesque idea of the habits of th~ nomadic tribes of the East. In like manner we learn of the introduction of music from the name Jubal, mean- ing A-blast-of-t~arnpets. When we come to the fifth generation or thereabouts in the family lines of both Cain and Seth, a new clement appears in the names. Men began to call themselves by the name of the Lord~~ (a not improbable rendering of Gen. iv. 26, last clause), whether the Scripture narrative tells us so or not. 3fehuja-ei, Alethusa-el, iliLahalale-el are all compounded with the syllable El, which is the earliest form of the Hebrew name of God. From these names we learn that there was a knowledge of God at that early period, and that men had some idea of their rela- tions toward Him. The first name that can properly be called a Hebrew national name is of course Ab~aham, a name signifying The-father-of-a- 1888.] history in Names. 125 great-nation. In this name is indicated the characteristic idea of the patriarchal period, viz., the family the foundation of society, and the nation only an extension of the family relation. History tells us that it was the ambition of every man at this period to become the leader of a tribe or nation. Hence the common desire for a large family of sons which shows itself in the names given. Among the sons of Jacob we have Reuben, meaning Behold-a-son; Gad, A-troop; Joseph, An-addition; and Be~ja2nin, Son-qf-rny-rigld-hand; all testifying to the rnhng desire of the age. Of conrse wre are not to expect that every name of a par- ticular period will display characteristics peculiar to that period. In every age we shall find the great mass of names are those which have been handed down from receding generations. It is in the new elements of the nomenclature that we shall naturally discover the developing tendencies of the age. Among the patriarchs we ye the name Thaac, meaning Laughter; Jacob, A-s?~pplanter; Esau, hIa~ry; & meon, Rea~inq; and Issachar, Jlire; names of the simplest class and precisely similar to those of the earliest age in the worlds history. And as we trace the course of Israclitish history thrtinugh its successive stages, we find these primitive ideas retained to a remarkable degree. All along down tIme history we meet with such simple names as Atoses, which means Drawn-oat; Saul, Sought-fu; David, Beloved; Jeroboam, L~ larger-of-the-peo le; A haz, ]~ossessor; Asa, Canning; and the like. The peculiarly patriarchal names are also fre- quent. For example, we Ii. d Abira2n, Father-e~ralted; Abi- sha~ Fathcr-of-a-g~ft; Absalom, Father-qf-pcace; and Abiel, La a~cr-of strength. A class by far more nnmerons th~ n cithe of the two just mentioned is composed of names containino- a title of divinity. We have already noticed the appearance of the syllable El in names as early as the fiftl~ generation from Adai i. This element soon disappears however, so far as re can learn, from all but the one line of descent, the hebrew. It is seen in Isra-el, A-prince-with- God; and khma-ei, Thhom- God-hears; and in the later Israclitish history is of such frequent occnr~ rence that one can count a hundred names containing this 126 iistory in Names. [Aug., syllable by glancing over a very few pages of the Old Test a- ment. The syllable was placed sometimes at the beginning of the name, as in El-ea~ar and El-kanah, and sometimes at the end, as in Samu-el and Dan%-el. After the Exodus a new element is introduced into names which in English is usually spelled Jah, iah or Jo. This is the covenant name of God, Jehovah, as it appears in composition. ilence we have Jo-nathan, Jehovahs-qift; Isa~ iah, lihe-salva-- tion-of-Jehovah; Jerem-jab, The-exalted-of-Jehovah; and very many others. In the names Eli-jab or Eli-hu and Jo-el we have the two forms of the Divine name combined; either one of these names signifying Jehovah-is- God. The frequency with which such names occur plainly ii~di- cates the religious character of the Hebrew people without any aid from history. We might infer that they worshiped more than one deity from the fact that two distinct names appear to have been in common use, were it not that the combination of the two in such names as Elijah proves them to be different titles of one God. We may even learn what is the position and character ascribed to their deity by the Hebrews from a further study of the names. Thus El-iab signifies God afather; Jo-shua, Jehovah-a-savior; El-irn elech God-a-Icing. And in this way we might trace the complete list of Divine attributes. Let us now summarize the information which we have gleaned regarding the Hebrews from a hasty glance at their national names. We have seen, first, that throughout their national existence they retained much of the simplicity of early days. Second, that they perpetuated the distinctively patri- archal ideas even after they adopted the monarchical form of government. In the third place, idea~ of God and relim~ion were prominent in the national mind. Again, they worshiped but one God, Jehovah. And finally xve learn the characte~ of the deity whom they worship. Next in order come Greek names, and our survey of these must necessarily be brief, as few of the Greek historic names are familiar. Early Grecian history abounds in such names as Lycurqas, and Lyeaort, of which the common element is the syllable Lye, 1888.1 lb story in Names. 127 a contracted form of the word Lgeos, a-wolf Lyc-urgus is wolf-compeller; Lyc-aon, wolf-like; Lyc-ophon, wo~f voiced. Another element seen quite as often is Leon, signifying A-lion. The name of Leon-idas, the noble Spartan who led the brave band at Thermopyl~, is familh r to every scAool-boy. His name signifies Lion-like, and was well suited to the ~nan. We have also Leon-tes and Leon tiades with similar meaning. Besides these are Leo-sthenes, Strong-lion; Leo-tychides, For- tmnate-lion; and many others. In these names we see reflected that rude state of society when physical courage is the loftiest ideal of human virtue. The mind does not rise above the appreciation of animal quali- ties in man. This is the first picture. At a later date we observe the growth of a class of names compounded with Hippos, meaning A-horse. Such are Phil- ippos, Lover-of-horses; Zant-ippe, Yellow-horse; Hipy- archus, Horse-tamer; Hippo-crates, Strong-horse; and iippo- inachus, Iforse-warrior, (i. e. cavalry-man). In early times horses were used chiefly in war, hence the introduction of this element in the names betokens the w rlike tendency of the Greeks at that period. At the climax of the Athenian democracy the list of promi- nent names abounds with the repetition of Lys from Lysis, signifying free. Some of them are Lys-ander, Free-man; Lys-ias, Free; Lys-~ppos, Free-horse; and even Lysi-machus, A-free-f q/d. From such a list of popular names we could ex- pect nothing else but a de1 ocracy; for what could tell more plainly of the prevailing love of freedom. A widely di~erent spirit dis1 lays itself in the names & -crates, meaning & lfe-power; C~ali-crates, Noble-power; Pen-des, Far-famed; Alci-biales, & reat-powcr; -A others which abound in the later days oi Athenian greatness. The word (Iratos and others siguifvin _ p )wer, which appear in the com- position of so many n~ mes, ar~. sure tokens of a rising aris- tocracy; and with such names Greece passes out of sight. Is not this a correct birds-eye view of Grecian history, derived wholly from the naLional names ~ In its first stages a rude, sturdy race, famiiiar with wild animals and admiring physical courage; ~radualiy they evelop into an intelligent people loving liberty and proclaiming it. Their increasing 128 Iii story in Names. [Aug., power brings with it a love of war and conquest. Then the national feeling gives place to individual ambition, aristocracy usurps the throne of popular liberty and the history closes. The first Roman names that are presented to us differ essen- tially from those of primitive Greece, showing that the nation was developed in a different manner. The early Romans were at once simpler and more advanced than the early Greeks. Amongst the earliest Roman names are AnCu5, A-servant; Seivius, Slave; illarcus, Alan ly; Valerius, An-eagle; Gin- cinnatus, Having-cu~~ly-~~air; Dentatus, Toothed; Barbatus, Bearded, and Gurtius, Short; all of which are of the simplest class. We also find Zfanaquil, Eagle-like; Corvus, A-crow; (}racch us, fac daw; and iThis, lJilouse , names of creatures well known in an agricultural communnity. There is still another class of names like (Joriolanus, Worker-in-leather; Gamillus, Attendant-at-sacrifice; Agricola, A-farmer. These names give us a good portrait of Rome in her early days. They tell us of a simple people, domestic in their hab- its, given to agriculture and trade, civilized, peaceful, and industrious. In later days, names more frequently seen are Augustus, meaning Stern; Nero, Strong; J~ompey, Splendid; (Jato, Gautious; A emilius, A-rival; Aurelius, Golden; and Opi- mus, Rich. The tendency is in a measure similar to that which we observed in the later days of Grecian histom-y; but in a less marked degree - In every period we find a large pmo- portion of the most primitive names. Claudius, Lame; Scipio, A st~ft~,- (Jrassus, Slow; Fiaccus, Lop-eared; prevail even under the empire. Thus we learn fromn time names tlmat the true Roman always loved simplicity. There was less of art among them than among the Greeks. The love of nature and the natnral was inborn. History confirms these facts. Cicem-o loved to escape from time noise of the forumim and the anxiomms cam-es of tIme consul- ship and give himself to quiet meditation in his Tnsculan villa. Horace, too, was wont to mourn over time degeneracy of his age from the pleasant seclusion of his farm at Taremmtum. Our review of English Imistom-ic namues muust of necessity be- gin with those of the Saxon period: for owing to the corn- 1888.] History in Names. 129 pleteness of the Anglo-Saxon conquest, the early British names have almost totally disappeared. All are familiar with the names of the pirate brothers, Hen- qist and Ilorsa, who came to assist the Britons against their enemies in the North. Both names signify A horse. Like the Hippos of the Greeks, they indicate the martial char- acter of the people. Soon after the conquest we find many names ending in wu~,4 which is the same as the modern wo~/ Among them are LThel-wulf, Great-wo~f, Jihd-wulf Noble- wo~f; Arn-ulf, and others. This is the same class of names that was so common among the early Greeks, and it betokens a similar state of society. The Saxomis of this period were evidently lovers of the chase and admirers of physical conrabe. As time passes on, these names gradually disappear, and in their place we find componuds of Ed, signifying truth. Ed- ward is Tratk-ward; Ed-mund, Thath%peaAer; Ed -win, Trath-wiun ~n~ Ji1i-ga~, Tr at h-weapon. Compounds with fred, meaning peace, are also common, as in Alfred, All- peace; Tfinfred, Ihnn9ft~/-j)eaee; EthelgYed, (freat-peace, etc. A third elemncut characteristic of the same period is dred, which is an old form of the word dread, but conveys more nearly t.he idea of reverence or religions fear. It appears in E-dred, Ifa~ppy fear; ilfor-dred, ilfore fear; Al-dred, All- frar. Snch a series of names plainly indicates the rise of moral and religious ideas in the Saxon mind, comubined with the utmost simplicity. We need nothing bnt these names to tell when Christianity was first introduced into Saxon Eng- land. It is also worthy of note that in these names there is nothing artificial. They were the words used in common con- versation, applied without change as names of persons. Suddenly, towards the close of the eleventh centnry, a great change takes place in English nomenclatnre. Edwards, Al- freds, amid Edgars disappear from the higher ranks of life to make room for Williams, henrys, and Charleses, together with many other names which we recognize as being borrowed from the Greek of the New Testament, though with various alterations of forum. These are ~ orman-French n mnes; and the fact that they so qnickly displace the older Saxon namnes in all the higher ranks of life tells the story of the Norman con quest. 130 History in Names. [Aug., As to the character of the conquering people, what do they tell us? The fact that they are mostly names received from a foreign source speaks of culture and education. It also ar- gues a degree of artificiality, since the meaning of the names becomes obscured, and they seem to be applied on account of association rather than because of their etymological signill- cance. In contrast with Saxon bluntness we see a clear proof of art and refinement. As centuries pass, the Saxon names begin to rise again from obscurity, and sovereigns and nobles received names from either language without discrimination, plainly indicatin~ the amalgamation of the two races into one composite people. Put the Saxon names no longer have the significance that they once had; for while the names have remained the s me the language has undergone great changes, and the meaning of the names is not apparent at sight, as in earlier times. Still later in the history we find a new turn of sentiment among a certain class of the people, and Old Testament names come into popular favor. Jeremiah, Obadiah, David, and Habaickitic are found on every hand. Put even these ancient names do not satisfy the growing tendency of the age, which is peculiarly religious. Then follows a series of names coin- posed of Thble words or phrases, such as Accepted, Redeemed, Faint-not, JJfalce-peace and lament. The followin names have been taken from an English jur list in Puritan times Redeemed Coumpton, God-reward Sniart, Accepted Trevor, and one, by a rather suggestive combination, is Galled Lower. The increasing absurdity of the age and the tendency towards cant shows itself in such names as kill-sin, Be-ste~fast, Be- courteous Be-faithful, and there are many longer ones. We find one Search-the-Scriptures, also Standfast-on-high, Fight- the-good-fight-of-faith, Be-of-good-coirfort, Zeal-qf-the-iand, Hew-A gag-in-pieces-before-the-lord, and Obadiah-bind-t heir- kings-in-chains-and-t heir-nobles-wit h-Un ks-qf-iron, are also gen- nine Puritan names. One Puritan mnaiden, being asked for her baptismal name, replied, Through-rnuch-tribulation-we-enter-the-leingdorn-o heaven, bnt for short they call inc liribby. About the same time is recorded the name of a child, Job-rakt-out-qf-the-& shes, 1888.] IJi8tory in JYarne8. 131 who was not a Puritan. Such names remind us of the less authentic but hardly more ludicrous account of a child named Rachel-weeping - for-her-ehild~en-and-refa8ing-to-be-comforted- beeause-t1~ey-wete-not Smith. All who have read English history will remember the f a- mous J3arebones Parliament, named from its leader, Praise- God Barebone. lI3ut not all are aware that this same Praise- God Barebone had two brothers, one of whom was named (7~ tist-came-into-the-worid-to-save Barebone, and the other, if C%+ist-kad-not-died-for-thee-thou-Jtadst-been-da ~ned il3arebone. The latter was not inappropriately nicknamed iDamned Bare- bone. That names could grow to such absurd forms and propor- tions shows the religious monstrosity of the age. Like all other unnatural developments, it soon subsided and thc stream of popular names returned to its proper chammel, retaining only the best elements of the recent growth. Such names as Grace~ Mercy, Faith, and Patience will never die. As we approach the more modern period of English history, we pause in dismay. The view is kaleidoscopic in variety, and unlimited in extent. Wait till the age becomes historic, and then let some bold adventurer see what he can make out of its nomenclature. We have already gone far enough for our purpose. The Saxon conquest, the introduction of Chris- tianity, the Norman conquest, the fusion of Saxons and Nor- mans, and the Puritan movement in religion, have all been stamped on the names of the different periods as legibly as the names of the iL~oman emperors on ancient coins. It is inipossible in a few pages to treat such a subject with fulness. We can but hint at lines of thonght and investiga- tion that might be followed to a great distance. We can only illustrate and that in merest outline, withont approaching the dignity of proof. Yet we may plainly see, even in so hasty a glance, that names have a real historic vahi e and signi~cance. Whether they are given with a knowledge of their meaning, or from muere association, makes little difference. In any case they will betray many secrets concerning the family and the nation to which they belong. Given the names of a people, and we can surely tell much of that peoples character and history. 132 (%rrent Literature. [Aug., CURRENT LITERATURE. How TO JuDGE 0 A PICTURE.*~Jt is safe to say that the vast majority of people not only do not know how to judge of a picture, but most of them are very ready to confess their ignorance. Books without number have been written to instruct those who wish to learn, but those who have xvritten them dif- fer so much among themselves that the uncritical lovers of art are usually discouraged. The author of this book has already gained reputation by what he has contributed to the abundant literature of the subject. In this new volume he has been especially successful. He has avoided those subjects on which artists and connoisseurs disagree, and has presented in a condensed formin a little l6mo. of about one hundred and fifty pagesthe most important principles which are accepted by all. What he says will not confuse the reader who is without tech- nical knowledge, and those who know something about the tech- nique of art will be charmed with the clearness and freshness with which he writes. A large part of the book is devoted to those explanations which will teach the tyro how to judge of the mechanical part of an artists work; and, it must be confessed, in the case of most pictures, this is about the only thing that will repay much study. The skill which any practical workman shows in his special craft is a thing which always gives delight to a fellow-craftsman, or to any person who can appreciate his work. So it is in Art. In judging of a picture, one must understand something of the nature and character of the mechanical skill displayed by the artist. This cannot be passed by without notice, though there are other things which are really of much more importance in forming an estimate of the best pictures. Still the technique of art is of gre at importance, and there is no royal road to learning how to judge of it. Very valuable suggestions may he made which will be of assistance, but long continued observation and study are needed before a person can judge intelligently. * How to Judge of a Picture. Familiar talks in the gallery with the uncritical lovers of art. By JOHN C. VAN DYKE. Chautauqu~ Press. New York: Phillips & Hunt. I6mo., pp. 168.

132 (%rrent Literature. [Aug., CURRENT LITERATURE. How TO JuDGE 0 A PICTURE.*~Jt is safe to say that the vast majority of people not only do not know how to judge of a picture, but most of them are very ready to confess their ignorance. Books without number have been written to instruct those who wish to learn, but those who have xvritten them dif- fer so much among themselves that the uncritical lovers of art are usually discouraged. The author of this book has already gained reputation by what he has contributed to the abundant literature of the subject. In this new volume he has been especially successful. He has avoided those subjects on which artists and connoisseurs disagree, and has presented in a condensed formin a little l6mo. of about one hundred and fifty pagesthe most important principles which are accepted by all. What he says will not confuse the reader who is without tech- nical knowledge, and those who know something about the tech- nique of art will be charmed with the clearness and freshness with which he writes. A large part of the book is devoted to those explanations which will teach the tyro how to judge of the mechanical part of an artists work; and, it must be confessed, in the case of most pictures, this is about the only thing that will repay much study. The skill which any practical workman shows in his special craft is a thing which always gives delight to a fellow-craftsman, or to any person who can appreciate his work. So it is in Art. In judging of a picture, one must understand something of the nature and character of the mechanical skill displayed by the artist. This cannot be passed by without notice, though there are other things which are really of much more importance in forming an estimate of the best pictures. Still the technique of art is of gre at importance, and there is no royal road to learning how to judge of it. Very valuable suggestions may he made which will be of assistance, but long continued observation and study are needed before a person can judge intelligently. * How to Judge of a Picture. Familiar talks in the gallery with the uncritical lovers of art. By JOHN C. VAN DYKE. Chautauqu~ Press. New York: Phillips & Hunt. I6mo., pp. 168.

132 (%rrent Literature. [Aug., CURRENT LITERATURE. How TO JuDGE 0 A PICTURE.*~Jt is safe to say that the vast majority of people not only do not know how to judge of a picture, but most of them are very ready to confess their ignorance. Books without number have been written to instruct those who wish to learn, but those who have xvritten them dif- fer so much among themselves that the uncritical lovers of art are usually discouraged. The author of this book has already gained reputation by what he has contributed to the abundant literature of the subject. In this new volume he has been especially successful. He has avoided those subjects on which artists and connoisseurs disagree, and has presented in a condensed formin a little l6mo. of about one hundred and fifty pagesthe most important principles which are accepted by all. What he says will not confuse the reader who is without tech- nical knowledge, and those who know something about the tech- nique of art will be charmed with the clearness and freshness with which he writes. A large part of the book is devoted to those explanations which will teach the tyro how to judge of the mechanical part of an artists work; and, it must be confessed, in the case of most pictures, this is about the only thing that will repay much study. The skill which any practical workman shows in his special craft is a thing which always gives delight to a fellow-craftsman, or to any person who can appreciate his work. So it is in Art. In judging of a picture, one must understand something of the nature and character of the mechanical skill displayed by the artist. This cannot be passed by without notice, though there are other things which are really of much more importance in forming an estimate of the best pictures. Still the technique of art is of gre at importance, and there is no royal road to learning how to judge of it. Very valuable suggestions may he made which will be of assistance, but long continued observation and study are needed before a person can judge intelligently. * How to Judge of a Picture. Familiar talks in the gallery with the uncritical lovers of art. By JOHN C. VAN DYKE. Chautauqu~ Press. New York: Phillips & Hunt. I6mo., pp. 168. 1888.] Current ]9& terature. 133 This part of the subject is therefore first discussed by Mr. Van Dyke in eight chapters, viz: I. Color and Harmony.II. Tone and GradatiomIII. Light and Shade.IV. Perspective and Atmosphere.V. Values.VJ. Textures and Qualities. VII. Drawing and Form.VIII. Composition. Now, many persons advance as far as to get some knowledge of the technique of art, and go no further. But it is to be re- membered that while it is important that an artist should con form in his technique to the principles laid down in these eight chapters, yet there is something far more important. Artists claim that painting is a language. It is a means of expressing thought; and of course the thought is greater than the means used in expressing it. So the idea which the painter has had in mind is the great thing to be looked for and considered. But in the great majority of pictures in any gallery, what ev- idence is there of any special thought in the artist? or of any idea which the painter has sought to express? A large propor- tion of them are simply attempts to reproduce in color some pretty bit of scenery, or some amusing or characteristic group of people. Now, the artist who limits himself to such work may make something which will give a momentary feeling of pleas- ure to the spectator, but he is only an imitator, and mere imita- tion never made anything of enduring value. Mr. Van Dyke says: The painter detailing nature upon canvass, line upon line, with no hope, object, or ambition but that of rendering nature as she is, is but unsuccessfully rivaling the photograph camera. Such pictures are good reminders of the places we have visited, like the photograph we buy along the line of travel, but they scarcely add to the world of art. He insists that the ob- ject of painting is not to deceive, and make one think he stands in the presence of real life. Art is not the delineation of peanuts and postage-stamps in such a realistic manner that you stretch out your hand to pick them up. Neither, it may be added, is it art of the highest kind to paint mere representations of what is beautiful, even though the artist in doing this shows knowl- edge of technique, and possesses marked ability~ and individual- ity, and enthusiasm, and feeling. In the highest art there is something more. The most perfect beauty is not to be found in things. Mr. Van Dyke says: Trees, sky, air, water, men, cities, streets, buildings, are but the symbols of ideas which play their part in the conception. The highest beauty is to be found in the conceptions of the human 134 Cwrrenr5 Li~ei~ature. [Aug. mind. To the artist, therefore, who conceives an idea, and uses the forms of nature as the means of expressing that idea, is to be accorded the highest place. We will quote an illustration or two from Mi. Van Dyke: Take the Sower of Millet, and what is it that we admire about it? A hundred living artists could excel the drawing, a hundred could ex- cel the rendering of texture and light. The figure is of little conse- quence. In any street in Paris might have been found a physical man of more perfect make-up. It is the thou~,ht, the conception of heroism in humble life, that is strikingly beautiful. You may remember seeing in Rome the statue of Moses by Michael Angelo. As a piece of me- chanical work it is not wonderful. I doubt not that Canova could have equaled, if not excelled, Michael Angelo as a carver and polisher. But there is something in the Moses that is worth all the marbles Canova ever cut. It is the conception of tremendous power, the con- ceived ability of Moses to overawe, crush, destroy all things before him. In the Prophets and Sybils of the Sistine some of the same power is ap- parent, combined with solemnity, mystery, wierdness, even the spirit of that prophecy which characterized the originals. The conceptions are lofty to sublimity, nor are the forms at all unworthy of the ideas they embody; but they are not so great as the latter. Bouguereau could have drawn them as well; Delacroix could have given them a more harmonious coloring; Alfred Stevens or Carolus-Duran could have painted their garments much better; but all of them together could not have created that idea of mystery and power which attaches to them. * * Still another instance of art excellent by the predominance of idea may be taken from the work of an American artistMr. Albert Ryder. You have doubtless seen a small sea-piece of his, often exhibited in New York, called A Waste of Waters is Their Field. It is little larger than your two hands, and represents a fisher-boat tossed by the waves of mid ocean. The light is dull, the figures and boat mere sug- gestions, and the waves scarcely distinguishable, as I remember them; yet there is an indefinable something about the picture that draws us to it. It is not the painting of it, for that is hardly up to the average. I can scarcely describe what it is except by saying that the picture con- veys to one the idea of the loneliness, the weirdness, the wildness of a continued existence at sea amid storms and tempests and dangers in- numerable. The craft with her dusky crew, as he pitches and rolls in the sea, her black sails blown full of heavy air and the light dimly seen through storm-clouds, looks like a wraith, a phantom boat, an exile hunted of men. We forget the mate;ial parts of the picture after a time, yet the idea haunts us. It keeps galloping through our brain like that dashing falconer of Fromentin. The painter holds us by his thought, his conception, precisely as the novelist makes us remember Lady Dedlock, Jean Valjean, or Harvey Birch, though we may hardly be able to recall a word they said or a thing they did. * * * 1888.1 (Jarren I Literature. 135 Mr. Ruskin tells you that he [Turner] is great because he knew about the cleavages of rocks, spears of grass, sticks, stones, and trees, and that he was a great painter for one reasonbecause he painted these objects true to nature; but, with all respect for Mr. Ruskin, I beg of you not to believe any such thing. It would not be less erroneous to say that Shakespeare was great because he made a pronoun agree with its noun in gender, number, and person, or that Milton was sublime be- cause he knew how to beat out the accent of an heroic line. People are not great by reason of small accomplishments, but because of great conceptions and revelations; and this is the case with Turner. WILLIAM L. KINGSLEY. THE MAGAZINE OF ART.*~Those who are interested in the sub- ject which is treated in the book of Mr. Van Dyke, just noticed, will find it well worth while to examine carefully the magazine which is published monthly by Messrs. Cassell & Co., of New York. We have often, in this Review, commended it, and called attention to the fact that each of its numbers, besides many beautiful illustrations, contains one or two full page etchings of the best paintings of contemporaneous art in the different coun- tries of Europe. We mention the magazine again at this time, for the reason that these etchings, though without the accompani- nlent of color, furnish those who cannot visit the European art col- lections an opportunity of studying the methods of the best living artists abroad, and the way they apply the principles which are laid down by Mr. Van Dyke. The AUGUST NUMBER contains a very characteristic etching of of Meissoni~rs Vedette. It is a picture of a French mounted vedette or scout, completely armed, who has spurred ahead of the body of troops who are to be seen in the dim distance. The Vedette is riding a splendid looking horse, and has stopped to scrutinize carefully the country before him. An American will probably admire this picture only for its technique. The admir- able drawing for which Meissoni6r is so famed is certainly here very conspicious. Every detail is perfect. The erect head of the horse is particularly noticeable. It stands out from the page so as to seem almost to breathe. Nothing too extravagant can be said of the drawing of the horse and his rider. The picture too shows all the peculiarities of Meissoni~rs style, and even what are sometimes supposed to be his defects. There is the glare of light over the whole scene which is so common in his work. * Magazine of Art. Cassell & Company (Limited). Yearly subscription $3.50. Single numbers 35 cents.

1888.1 (Jarren I Literature. 135 Mr. Ruskin tells you that he [Turner] is great because he knew about the cleavages of rocks, spears of grass, sticks, stones, and trees, and that he was a great painter for one reasonbecause he painted these objects true to nature; but, with all respect for Mr. Ruskin, I beg of you not to believe any such thing. It would not be less erroneous to say that Shakespeare was great because he made a pronoun agree with its noun in gender, number, and person, or that Milton was sublime be- cause he knew how to beat out the accent of an heroic line. People are not great by reason of small accomplishments, but because of great conceptions and revelations; and this is the case with Turner. WILLIAM L. KINGSLEY. THE MAGAZINE OF ART.*~Those who are interested in the sub- ject which is treated in the book of Mr. Van Dyke, just noticed, will find it well worth while to examine carefully the magazine which is published monthly by Messrs. Cassell & Co., of New York. We have often, in this Review, commended it, and called attention to the fact that each of its numbers, besides many beautiful illustrations, contains one or two full page etchings of the best paintings of contemporaneous art in the different coun- tries of Europe. We mention the magazine again at this time, for the reason that these etchings, though without the accompani- nlent of color, furnish those who cannot visit the European art col- lections an opportunity of studying the methods of the best living artists abroad, and the way they apply the principles which are laid down by Mr. Van Dyke. The AUGUST NUMBER contains a very characteristic etching of of Meissoni~rs Vedette. It is a picture of a French mounted vedette or scout, completely armed, who has spurred ahead of the body of troops who are to be seen in the dim distance. The Vedette is riding a splendid looking horse, and has stopped to scrutinize carefully the country before him. An American will probably admire this picture only for its technique. The admir- able drawing for which Meissoni6r is so famed is certainly here very conspicious. Every detail is perfect. The erect head of the horse is particularly noticeable. It stands out from the page so as to seem almost to breathe. Nothing too extravagant can be said of the drawing of the horse and his rider. The picture too shows all the peculiarities of Meissoni~rs style, and even what are sometimes supposed to be his defects. There is the glare of light over the whole scene which is so common in his work. * Magazine of Art. Cassell & Company (Limited). Yearly subscription $3.50. Single numbers 35 cents. 136 Current Literature. [Aug., Very little use is made of the contrast of shadow. But we do not propose to criticise the technique, and only mention it as worth careful study by anyone who has not learned to judge of this great modern artist by the paintings themselves. And now, as art is a language, the question arises, What is it that AleissonV~r says in this picture? To an American, very little! What would it mean, if hung in an American gallery, or in an American parlor? It is, to be sure, an almost perfect pic- ture of a French vedette on duty; and, to those interested in mili- tary scenes, it has its value. But, in the house of a French chauvinist, it would say much to the beholder! France is per- sonified in the well appointed horseman who is looking over the German frontier. All the might of France too is waiting in the background, ready to seize the first opportunity that may pre- sent itself to pour over the frontier and avenge Sedan. So it is never to be forgotten that a picture which has no word for us may be full of stirring eloquence for another. The Magazine usually furnishes, in each number, valuable criti- cism of art from well known living artists. The August number has an Article by Sir John E. Millais of London. In the July number, is an Article by Mr. Mortimer Menpes, who has just returned from Japan with a collection of pictures which he painted in that country and which he has placed on exhibition in London. In the Article to which we refer, he comments on a recent report made in Japan by a Japanese commission which had been sent to Europe to investigate the condition of Western art. He says that this commission, after thorough examination, reported that art, as it now is in Japan, is the only living art in the world. Mr. Menpes seems to admit the truth of the claims they make, and takes the occasion to give some of the reasons why they are right. He says that Art in Japan is no mere exotic cultivation of the skillful, no mere graceful luxury of the rich, but a part of the daily lives of the people. lie claims that the artistic sense is shared by the peasant and the prince; as well by the carpenter and fan maker and lacquer-worker as by the stateliest daimio of the community. He tells a story of his ser- vant boy as an illustration of what he means, and of the native artistic instinct of Japan. I had got a number of fanholders and was busying myself one afternoon in arranging them on the walls. My little Japanese servant boy was in the room, and as I went on with my work I caught an expression on his face from time to time, which showed that he was not overpleased with my 1888.] On~ Lil.raAwa 132 performance. After a while, as this dissatisfied expression seemed to deepen, I asked him what the matter was. Then he frankly confessed that he did not like the way in which I was arranging my fanholders. Why did you not tell me so at once? I asked. You are an artist from England, he replied, and it was not for me to speak. However, I persuaded him to arrange the fanholders himself after his own taste, and I must say I received a remarkable demonstration lesson. The task took him about two hours, placing, arranging, adjusting; and, when he had finished, the result was beautifuL That wall was a perfect picture. Every fanholder seemed to be exactly in its right place, and it looked as if the alteration of a single one would affect and disinternate the whole scheme. I accepted the lemon with due humility, and remained more than ever convinced that the Japan- ese are what they have justly claimed to be, an essentially artistic people instinct with living art This artistic taste is strengthened by education. The Japanese even as children, are carefully taught the laws of harmony, and how to arrange furniture and flowers so as to secure the best artistic effect They have books with diagrams to illustrate the way of properly disposing flowers in a pot The outeides as well as the insides of their houses are decorated on the principles of harmony, even to the painting of pigus in the street They are most particular about placing their richly-colored sign in re- lation to its surroundings. In the same way, whether the sub- ject may be a string of lanterns or whatnot, whatever is done is done harmoniously, and in no case is decoration the result of accident Mr. Menpes says that we ought not to judge of the best Japanese art by the specimens which we have in these Western countries. The Japanese artists are amased that the Europeans and Americans want such ugly things as they are required to paint for export. He says that the Japanese look with contempt upon the kind of curios which they are now tuning out by wholesale to meet the demand that comes from the West, and that the occidental nations, with their love of gimcrackeries, are doing their best to cheapen and degrade the artistic capacity of Japan. Reference is made in the Article to a peculiarity of the wealthy collectors of pictures in Japan which is worth notins and with an account of which we will conclude. It seems that voL. xm. 10 138 f%neM LiteraAne. (Aug., a general thing, they keep their treasures stowed away in what is called a go down or storehouseand but one picture is brought up at a time to be placed on exhibition in their rooms. Mr. Menpes says: It is very much like bringing a bottle of wine from the cellarno one would want the whole bin at a time I WiLliaM L KniesLut Tnu AnT AMATEUR for July contains a colored study of Ferns, one of Poppies in black and white, a portrait study by Ellen Welby, a decorative figure ~ Hebe), numerous design for wood carving, china painting, and embroidery, and a page of monograms in S. The summer student of art will find espe- cially valuable the Articles on The Science of Landscaper Rocks, Ground, and Trees, Landscape Painting in Water Colors, and Sketching from Nature. Other topics practically treated are portrait posing, china painting, wood carving, decora- tion of table linen, summer embroidery, and lectern hangings. Home decoration receives as usual special attention, and for connoisseurs there is, besides the always vivacious Now Book, a very interesting talk with Durand-Ruel on the different periods of Corot, Millet, and Rousseau, together with some account of the Bavarian artist Gaugengigl, and a notice of the Yandell Summer ~xhibition. The August number contains a very timely and attractive colored plate of Golden Rod and Cardinal Flowers. There are also china-painting designs for a plate (roses), a vase (cone- flowers), and a fish plate, a pulpit hanging for Trinity, a page of monograms in 5, a fine study of Mountain Laurel by Victor Dangon, a variety of specially good designs for carved hanging shelves, and a number of Oriental decorative designs, including a MI-page illustration of a vestibule in Turkish style. Articles of special practical value are those on Landscape Painting in Oils, Science of LandscapeSky and Water, Flower Painting in Water Colors, Dog-Painting (profusely illustrated), and Wood Carving. Them is a suggestive talk on the lie- vival of Mural Painting, and My Note Book has its usual complement of spicy paragraphs. Price 85 cents. Montague Marks, Publisher, 28 Union Square, New York. To An Rnxuw is a bi-monthly magazine which is specially devoted to the illustration of contemporaneous American art. Each number contains an etching, a wood engraving, three

138 f%neM LiteraAne. (Aug., a general thing, they keep their treasures stowed away in what is called a go down or storehouseand but one picture is brought up at a time to be placed on exhibition in their rooms. Mr. Menpes says: It is very much like bringing a bottle of wine from the cellarno one would want the whole bin at a time I WiLliaM L KniesLut Tnu AnT AMATEUR for July contains a colored study of Ferns, one of Poppies in black and white, a portrait study by Ellen Welby, a decorative figure ~ Hebe), numerous design for wood carving, china painting, and embroidery, and a page of monograms in S. The summer student of art will find espe- cially valuable the Articles on The Science of Landscaper Rocks, Ground, and Trees, Landscape Painting in Water Colors, and Sketching from Nature. Other topics practically treated are portrait posing, china painting, wood carving, decora- tion of table linen, summer embroidery, and lectern hangings. Home decoration receives as usual special attention, and for connoisseurs there is, besides the always vivacious Now Book, a very interesting talk with Durand-Ruel on the different periods of Corot, Millet, and Rousseau, together with some account of the Bavarian artist Gaugengigl, and a notice of the Yandell Summer ~xhibition. The August number contains a very timely and attractive colored plate of Golden Rod and Cardinal Flowers. There are also china-painting designs for a plate (roses), a vase (cone- flowers), and a fish plate, a pulpit hanging for Trinity, a page of monograms in 5, a fine study of Mountain Laurel by Victor Dangon, a variety of specially good designs for carved hanging shelves, and a number of Oriental decorative designs, including a MI-page illustration of a vestibule in Turkish style. Articles of special practical value are those on Landscape Painting in Oils, Science of LandscapeSky and Water, Flower Painting in Water Colors, Dog-Painting (profusely illustrated), and Wood Carving. Them is a suggestive talk on the lie- vival of Mural Painting, and My Note Book has its usual complement of spicy paragraphs. Price 85 cents. Montague Marks, Publisher, 28 Union Square, New York. To An Rnxuw is a bi-monthly magazine which is specially devoted to the illustration of contemporaneous American art. Each number contains an etching, a wood engraving, three

138 f%neM LiteraAne. (Aug., a general thing, they keep their treasures stowed away in what is called a go down or storehouseand but one picture is brought up at a time to be placed on exhibition in their rooms. Mr. Menpes says: It is very much like bringing a bottle of wine from the cellarno one would want the whole bin at a time I WiLliaM L KniesLut Tnu AnT AMATEUR for July contains a colored study of Ferns, one of Poppies in black and white, a portrait study by Ellen Welby, a decorative figure ~ Hebe), numerous design for wood carving, china painting, and embroidery, and a page of monograms in S. The summer student of art will find espe- cially valuable the Articles on The Science of Landscaper Rocks, Ground, and Trees, Landscape Painting in Water Colors, and Sketching from Nature. Other topics practically treated are portrait posing, china painting, wood carving, decora- tion of table linen, summer embroidery, and lectern hangings. Home decoration receives as usual special attention, and for connoisseurs there is, besides the always vivacious Now Book, a very interesting talk with Durand-Ruel on the different periods of Corot, Millet, and Rousseau, together with some account of the Bavarian artist Gaugengigl, and a notice of the Yandell Summer ~xhibition. The August number contains a very timely and attractive colored plate of Golden Rod and Cardinal Flowers. There are also china-painting designs for a plate (roses), a vase (cone- flowers), and a fish plate, a pulpit hanging for Trinity, a page of monograms in 5, a fine study of Mountain Laurel by Victor Dangon, a variety of specially good designs for carved hanging shelves, and a number of Oriental decorative designs, including a MI-page illustration of a vestibule in Turkish style. Articles of special practical value are those on Landscape Painting in Oils, Science of LandscapeSky and Water, Flower Painting in Water Colors, Dog-Painting (profusely illustrated), and Wood Carving. Them is a suggestive talk on the lie- vival of Mural Painting, and My Note Book has its usual complement of spicy paragraphs. Price 85 cents. Montague Marks, Publisher, 28 Union Square, New York. To An Rnxuw is a bi-monthly magazine which is specially devoted to the illustration of contemporaneous American art. Each number contains an etching, a wood engraving, three 1888.] Current Literature. 139 photogelatine, and four photogravure plates. rphe Review is published in New York, and the price is 81.50 a number, or 7.50 a year. The pictorial illustrations are of a higher character than anything before attcml)ted in this country. The ~July-August iinmher has a dry-point etching by Frederick WT. Freci, after an Passino oil painting by Carroll Bcckwit.h ; the title is A Glance. There is a J)hotogravure ot a Portrait of a Lady, from an oil painting l)y William XI. Chase ; and one of the admirable wood engravings Spring time of William ilarnil- ton Gibson. There are also a large numbcr of photogelatine prints from the most beautiful scenes in the Adirondacks in- cluding pictures from the Au Sable Ponds, Lake Placid, and Raqnette Lakes. But the beauty of the illustrations is by no means the only claim of the Art Review for corn ruendation. The general ability of its Articles is unusually high. In the JulyAugust nnnll)er a (liscrimmatino Article on the beauty of paint is especially noticeahlc. It is a plea fbr technical abilitya plea for art for arts sake. The author, Mr. Van Dyke, admits to the fullest extent that the chief and most important purpose of art is not the handling of paint. But he s~ ys that the higher aims of art have been so persistently reiterated, that many people seem to have taken it for granted that the work of the fingers is of no importance ~vhatever. They can admire grace of motion in an athlete ; they can see beauty in the fingering of a pianist; but they have not learned to appreciate the brush xvork of the artist, or the way he secures his effects. Mr. Van T)yke introduces the discussion of his subject by a description of the different xvavs that pictures are examined Of those who patronize the gallery during the art season, the father of the family goes to see something funny, the mother to see the pa- thetic ideal, Miss Fanny looks for a romantic story on canvas, and Young Hopeful is carried away with a theatrical group of athletic models or a historical tragedy containing the moral-sublime. But the art-learned connoisseur, the diligent amateur, the shoppy artist, and the carping criticwhat do they go forth to see? Why, paint. At a distance a clever idea, nice composition~ drawing, color, or tone may attract their notice, and straightway they walk up to within smelling distance of the canvas, to see if that man knows how to paint. Then begins the interesting p~ rt of the feast, for never a hook- lover pored over a Stephens or a Baskerville with half the relish that a true lover of paint studies the manner in which an artist has handled his brush. Whether at Amsterdam or Venice among the ancients, or 140 Current Literature. [Aug., at Paris or Munich among the moderns, it is the same; the quest is for paint. The old picture-viewer is twin brother to the old book-worm. They hunt in similar fields in a similar manner. The one goes down the long rows of books sniffing at Shakespeare, Bacon, and Pope, in favor of Albertus Magnus, John Pico, and Poliziano; and the other goes down the gallery, passing over Ghirlandajo, Perugino, and Bartolom- meo, to stand transfixed with enthusiasm before Rubens, Velasquez, or Watteall. And, after all, is there not some reason and method in the apparent eccentricity? Some may seek for the glories of the high ideal, and some for the splendors of perfect skill. There re beauties in both, and the preference is a matter of taste. Mr. Van Dyke then gives a clear and interesting historical review of the methods according to which the great painters have worked from the days of Michael Angelo, nd of the advance that has been made in modern times in all that per- tains to technique. It is ignorance of these methods which in part explains the lack of interest which so many persons feel in the paintings of the old masters. It is to he remembered that the great Florentines thought only of line and form; awl the paint part of their work was only a filling-in of the inclosed space with color. How different the technique of Vollon, Cour- bet, Rousseau, Fortuny, and the modern artists! It follows then, that for the intelligent appreciation of the work of any painterancient or modernit is necessary to know what to look for in the technique of each. The Article concludes with setting forth the advantages of being snificiently ac- quainted with paint to be able to judge of the wonderful work for which the modern artists have become so distin- guished. Mr. Van Dyke says Poets and novelists touch up their pages with happy similes, imagery, and metaphors to brighten their theme and hold the reader, and why should not artists employ their brushes in a similar manner? To call it style in the one and trickery in the other is vei~y absurd, not to say unjust. The dash, the fire, the richness, of Fortuny in paint is analogous to that of Gantier in literatuic, and, whatever the thoughts they may have given utterance to, we would not spare the brilliant style of either. But on such a subject, a writer is in danger of being sadly misunderstood, and at the close of his Article Mr. Van Dyke says In consideration of the delightful misunderstanding of one~ s views so prevalent now- adays, it may be worth while to repeat that nothing in this paper is intended to prove the superiority of the hand over the head, or to show that skill in execution is equal to the power of invention. 1888.] (Jurren t Lite~ature. 141 We wish to call attention also to the fact that tim Review gives accounts of what is being done for the promotion of art in different parts of the country in a way which is at once very intelligil)le, very interesting, and very encouraging. WILLIAM L. KINGSLEY. TAXATION.*~PrOf. Cossa of the University of Pavia is known to English readers chiefly through his Guide to the Study of Political Economy, a little work of great value to the student and the product of an unusually wide range of study. As I~rof. Cossa is one of the leading representatives of the very solid and vigorous scholarship of new Italy, a word of information about his career may be of interest. He was born in 1831. His University training was received at Pavia, Vienna, and Leipsic, where he was under the instruction first of Stein and then of Roseher. Upon his return to Italy he became professor at Pavia, where his work was especially fruitful in inspiring young men to undertake original investigations iii the field of contemporary l)rol)lems. He began to write for publication comparatively late, but has produced several admirable textbooks. lie excells in clear analysis and statement of principles. Familiar with nearly all the leading languages of Europe, his work is noticeably chiarac- terized by comprehensiveness. This same breadth of leariiino enables him to furnish admirable bibliographies with his text-books which add much to their usefulness. The present volume, edited by Mr. Horace White, contains n brief and clear exposition of the principles of taxation. It will serve as a concise statement of the aching, as i good established principles either for reference or in te basis foi~ leetures. Mr. Whites notes are always instructive and to the point. The appendix on the tax systems of New York and Pennsylvania is a useful feature. The translation lm~ s had the benefit of several scholarly revisions and may i)e trusted. We are of opinion however, that the phrase Science of Finance accords rather better with the prevailing English usage as a translation of Scienza delle Fimauze than the term Science of the Finances which has been chosen. EcoNo~mIc ScIENcEfThe author of this essay has attempted * Taxation. Its Principles and Methods. Translated from the Scicoza (lcllc Finneze of LIJIGI Cossx, Professor in the University of Pnvin. With no introdoc- tion and notes by Ilornee White. New York: G. P. Putnams Sons. f The Present Oondition of Economic Science and The Demand for a radical Uhonge in its methods and aims. By EnwAun CLARK LuNT, AM. New York: C. P. Putnams Sons.

1888.] (Jurren t Lite~ature. 141 We wish to call attention also to the fact that tim Review gives accounts of what is being done for the promotion of art in different parts of the country in a way which is at once very intelligil)le, very interesting, and very encouraging. WILLIAM L. KINGSLEY. TAXATION.*~PrOf. Cossa of the University of Pavia is known to English readers chiefly through his Guide to the Study of Political Economy, a little work of great value to the student and the product of an unusually wide range of study. As I~rof. Cossa is one of the leading representatives of the very solid and vigorous scholarship of new Italy, a word of information about his career may be of interest. He was born in 1831. His University training was received at Pavia, Vienna, and Leipsic, where he was under the instruction first of Stein and then of Roseher. Upon his return to Italy he became professor at Pavia, where his work was especially fruitful in inspiring young men to undertake original investigations iii the field of contemporary l)rol)lems. He began to write for publication comparatively late, but has produced several admirable textbooks. lie excells in clear analysis and statement of principles. Familiar with nearly all the leading languages of Europe, his work is noticeably chiarac- terized by comprehensiveness. This same breadth of leariiino enables him to furnish admirable bibliographies with his text-books which add much to their usefulness. The present volume, edited by Mr. Horace White, contains n brief and clear exposition of the principles of taxation. It will serve as a concise statement of the aching, as i good established principles either for reference or in te basis foi~ leetures. Mr. Whites notes are always instructive and to the point. The appendix on the tax systems of New York and Pennsylvania is a useful feature. The translation lm~ s had the benefit of several scholarly revisions and may i)e trusted. We are of opinion however, that the phrase Science of Finance accords rather better with the prevailing English usage as a translation of Scienza delle Fimauze than the term Science of the Finances which has been chosen. EcoNo~mIc ScIENcEfThe author of this essay has attempted * Taxation. Its Principles and Methods. Translated from the Scicoza (lcllc Finneze of LIJIGI Cossx, Professor in the University of Pnvin. With no introdoc- tion and notes by Ilornee White. New York: G. P. Putnams Sons. f The Present Oondition of Economic Science and The Demand for a radical Uhonge in its methods and aims. By EnwAun CLARK LuNT, AM. New York: C. P. Putnams Sons.

1888.] (Jurren t Lite~ature. 141 We wish to call attention also to the fact that tim Review gives accounts of what is being done for the promotion of art in different parts of the country in a way which is at once very intelligil)le, very interesting, and very encouraging. WILLIAM L. KINGSLEY. TAXATION.*~PrOf. Cossa of the University of Pavia is known to English readers chiefly through his Guide to the Study of Political Economy, a little work of great value to the student and the product of an unusually wide range of study. As I~rof. Cossa is one of the leading representatives of the very solid and vigorous scholarship of new Italy, a word of information about his career may be of interest. He was born in 1831. His University training was received at Pavia, Vienna, and Leipsic, where he was under the instruction first of Stein and then of Roseher. Upon his return to Italy he became professor at Pavia, where his work was especially fruitful in inspiring young men to undertake original investigations iii the field of contemporary l)rol)lems. He began to write for publication comparatively late, but has produced several admirable textbooks. lie excells in clear analysis and statement of principles. Familiar with nearly all the leading languages of Europe, his work is noticeably chiarac- terized by comprehensiveness. This same breadth of leariiino enables him to furnish admirable bibliographies with his text-books which add much to their usefulness. The present volume, edited by Mr. Horace White, contains n brief and clear exposition of the principles of taxation. It will serve as a concise statement of the aching, as i good established principles either for reference or in te basis foi~ leetures. Mr. Whites notes are always instructive and to the point. The appendix on the tax systems of New York and Pennsylvania is a useful feature. The translation lm~ s had the benefit of several scholarly revisions and may i)e trusted. We are of opinion however, that the phrase Science of Finance accords rather better with the prevailing English usage as a translation of Scienza delle Fimauze than the term Science of the Finances which has been chosen. EcoNo~mIc ScIENcEfThe author of this essay has attempted * Taxation. Its Principles and Methods. Translated from the Scicoza (lcllc Finneze of LIJIGI Cossx, Professor in the University of Pnvin. With no introdoc- tion and notes by Ilornee White. New York: G. P. Putnams Sons. f The Present Oondition of Economic Science and The Demand for a radical Uhonge in its methods and aims. By EnwAun CLARK LuNT, AM. New York: C. P. Putnams Sons. 142 [Aug., to review the present condition of Political Economy and to reach some general conclusions about its prospects. He first considers what is urged against the science on account of the disagreements of its votaries and shows that a good deal of this dissension is not in the field of economics proper but in applied economics or in more general terms, politics. He defends the strictly scientific character of Political Economy. It investigates laws of social life, but does not provide rules of action. He then discusses the method of the English school of economists and defends it from the ill-judged if not ignorant criticism with which it has been deluged of late. The New Economy is reviewed in two chapters and shown to be in its essential characteristics not new. Mr. Lunt almoet goes so far as to say in the familiar epigram- matic phrase: What is true in it is not new, and what is new is not true. He distinctly affirms that all the best English econo- mists have followed the method prescribed by the new Economists, whom he is consequently compelled to liken to the French people, who according to a nice observer, do not lciow what they want, and are never satisfied until they get it. Political Economy as it exists to-day and comprises a body of scientific knowledge is the work of the English Economists. The new economists are doing useful work, but it is chiefly when as regards method, they follow in the footsteps of Adam Smith, and Mill. Mr. Lunt concludes with an exhortation for economists to cease wrangling about methods and to devote their energies to the pressing problems of the day. His essay is interesting, clearly written, and sprightly in style. Ills conclusions quite agree with our own on the points at issue, and we hope that his discussion will lessen the availability of the words orthodox, English, or Manchester school, as epithets of vituperation. To Bmu Doanun 01 INsPWAT1oL*.~~.In this book a promi- nent Baptist theological professor gives the results or twenty-five years of study and teaching on the doctrine of inspiration. The discussion is comprehensive and somewhat elaborate and carefuL The divisions of the subject are well made and clear. The treat- ment is perspicuous. All extraneous natter is excluded. In the chapter on the six different theories of inspiration, the * 21. ED). Drn*hse of Iuapkatfoa Aylaiaed and r~.at.wi Dy BAWL MANLY, 1W., LU)., Norm In the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Louisville, iCy. New York: A. (3. Armstrong ABorts. 1888.

142 [Aug., to review the present condition of Political Economy and to reach some general conclusions about its prospects. He first considers what is urged against the science on account of the disagreements of its votaries and shows that a good deal of this dissension is not in the field of economics proper but in applied economics or in more general terms, politics. He defends the strictly scientific character of Political Economy. It investigates laws of social life, but does not provide rules of action. He then discusses the method of the English school of economists and defends it from the ill-judged if not ignorant criticism with which it has been deluged of late. The New Economy is reviewed in two chapters and shown to be in its essential characteristics not new. Mr. Lunt almoet goes so far as to say in the familiar epigram- matic phrase: What is true in it is not new, and what is new is not true. He distinctly affirms that all the best English econo- mists have followed the method prescribed by the new Economists, whom he is consequently compelled to liken to the French people, who according to a nice observer, do not lciow what they want, and are never satisfied until they get it. Political Economy as it exists to-day and comprises a body of scientific knowledge is the work of the English Economists. The new economists are doing useful work, but it is chiefly when as regards method, they follow in the footsteps of Adam Smith, and Mill. Mr. Lunt concludes with an exhortation for economists to cease wrangling about methods and to devote their energies to the pressing problems of the day. His essay is interesting, clearly written, and sprightly in style. Ills conclusions quite agree with our own on the points at issue, and we hope that his discussion will lessen the availability of the words orthodox, English, or Manchester school, as epithets of vituperation. To Bmu Doanun 01 INsPWAT1oL*.~~.In this book a promi- nent Baptist theological professor gives the results or twenty-five years of study and teaching on the doctrine of inspiration. The discussion is comprehensive and somewhat elaborate and carefuL The divisions of the subject are well made and clear. The treat- ment is perspicuous. All extraneous natter is excluded. In the chapter on the six different theories of inspiration, the * 21. ED). Drn*hse of Iuapkatfoa Aylaiaed and r~.at.wi Dy BAWL MANLY, 1W., LU)., Norm In the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Louisville, iCy. New York: A. (3. Armstrong ABorts. 1888. 1888.] h~ ilbraAwa 148 fairest and most satisfactory work is to be found. The third part of the book, which deals with objections, contains a consid- erable quantity of valuable material. While the facts which the volume contains are important and are carefully arranged, noth- ing new is to be found, or freshly stated. The authors acquaintance with the literature of the subject has not helped him to any great extent, inasmuch as the principle through which he views everything prevents his seeing what he is not looking for. The fact is, this book is an attempt to ox- plain and vindicate a certain theory. The author is an advocate throughout. The title itself is specious. He is not at all con- cerned to discover and present the Bible doctrine of inspiration, as the title would lead us to infer, bat he is anxious to present his own view and then get the Bible sanction for it. The supreme aim is to prove the absolute infallibility of the Scriptures, for to him inspiration means infallibility or it means nothing. His method is antiquated and anti-scientific. He is not a truth-seeker, but a view-defender. He does not seem td want all tine fact; but only enough facts to render his view plausible. For the greatest part he is an extreme literalist in biblical interpretation, believing that God actually wrote the decalogne with his finger. In a few places he departs from his literalism to make a point Notably where he thinks Moses statement about the prophet to be raised up like unto himself refers to the whole line of prophets and not to one proldiet There is also an amount of dogmatism in the book, which renders it somewhat offensive to an earnest truth-seeker. When Dr. Manly quotes some adverse statement from such a writer as Dr. Ladd, lie feels he has done his whole duty when he dismisses it by simply saying: flat does not agree with our view, or, Edo not find it so. He emphasizes tine human and divine elements in the Bible, but does not allow us to discriminate between them; it is all hit- man and all divine. While discarding the mechanical theory he sympathizes with it, and it is difficult to see where his view, which he calls plenary inspiration, differs from the mechanical. He assumes that man unaided could not transmit a revelation. That is, perhaps, true. But when he assumes that, when man is aided, he must be made infallible, he rests his assumption, not on facts, but. on nothing. Man can not receive a written revelation 144 G~nt LileraAra [Aug., truthfully without divine aid. Granted ho has divine aid, must he thou receivo that revelation infallibly? He claims that unless the Bible is infallible, man has no di- vine revelation, that revelation perishes with tho men to whom it was imparted, unless they made an infallible record of it. As an instance of his reliance upon his thoory, and not upon scientific research, take the following: It is impossible to maintain tho absolute historical accuracy of the Gospel historians without also maintaining their inspiration (infallibility). Then, we ask, why maintain it? Shall our theory over-ride the facts? Is it not bet- ter to build theories on facts rather than to do as he has done, re- fuse to see the facts unless they suit our theory? But why such pcrversion as the book contains? Dr. Shodd gave as a strong reason why he advocated the mechanical theory, that it was th~e easiest to defend. Dr. Manly seems to have been actuated in part by another motive. He wants to believe his theory. He needs is. For the standpoint from which he approaches the sub- ject of inspiration is that of a conception of Christianity as a book-religionas a egatem divinely given. To give authority to such a religion, there must be an infalli- ble standard of truth, and this must be found in the words of Sacred Scripture. With such a conception of Christianity, it is no wonder that he grows warm in describing the terrible condi- tion we should be in, it we had not an infallible book The thought of Christianity as a life and of religion as something else than eonforanity in belief and practice to certain definite rules and precepts is wholly foreign to him. He believes the Bible was given us for the purpose of imparting infallibly accurate in- formation on its various topies, rather than for the purpose of leading our souls into contact and communion with the life of God. Those who hold a more liberal and spiritual view and who believe that as long as we have the Christ of the Bible, who is the Christ of history, we do not need a book absolutely free from verbal, scientific, and historical errors, can well dispense with all such discussions and can trust the Bible to reverent critice who look only for the truth. We are sorry Dr. Manly did not catch something of the spirit of Prof. Ladd, whose excellent book he seems to have read. C. L DivaN.

NEW ENGLANDER AND YALE IREVIEW. No. CCXXII. SEPTEMBER, 1888. ARTICLE I. SOME OF THE ADVANTAGES OF THE UNION OF MEDICAL SCHOOL AND UNIVERSITY.* IT is a bopefnl and gratifying circumstance that within the last few years nniversities in this conntry and in England have shown an awakened and enlightened interest in the advancement of medical science and the promotion of higher medical education. Among the most notable evidences of this interest is the recent organization at the great Universities of Oxford and of Cambridge in England of medical departments, not as detached schools, but as integral and co6rdinate parts of the nniversity. The vivifying inllnenc.e of this intimate con- nection between medical stndy and the nniversity has made itself manifest in zeal for research, eqnipment of laboratories, improved methods of instrnction, and a more orderly and sys- tematic scheme of study. * An Address delivered at Yale University, June 26th, 1888. By WILLIAM H. WELCH, M.D., Professor of Pathology in Johns Hopkins University. VOL. XIII. 11 146 Union of iJledical School and University. [Sept., If I mistake not the significance of the present occasion there are here in Yale University intelligent appreciation of the great pnrposes to be accomplished by promotion of the best medical education and a desire to render the medical department not less efficient than the other departments of this nniversity. The present occasion seems an appropriate one to consider some of the relations of medical education to the nniversity. In this conntry and in England medicine is tanght chiefly in independent professional schools withont any connection or with only a nominal connection with a nniversity. An mi- portant distinction exists between the independent medical schools of the United States and those of Great Britain, in that onr schools have the power of granting degrees, whereas medical degrees and licenses to practice medicine can be obtained in Great Britain only by passing examination at the nniversities or before the examining boards of certain corpora- tions. The assnmption by independent schools of medicine of the power of granting the doctors degree, withont any control from a nniversity or from the State, is a main reason in this country for the lack of uniformity in medical ednca- tion, for the enormons nnmber of medical schools beyond all necessities of the community, for the ease with which medical degrees can be obtained, and for the conseqnent degradation in the significance and the value of the degree of doctor of medicine. These and other evils of the system of niedical edncation prevailing in this country, are widely appreciated and gen- erally deplored by all who take an enlightened interest in the advancement of the science and art of medicine. They were made the snbject of a vigorous address by the president of the American Medical Association at its last session. Prob- ably none recognize more clearly the need of reform than many of the teachers in the best of our medical schools. In general they are to be credited with the desire to accomplish all that is possible in the face of snch serions obstacles as the absence of endowments, and the conseqnent necessity of enter- ing into competition with bad and indifferent schools. The introduction of requirements regarding preliminary education, 1888.] Union of Medical & ,4ool and Univer8ity. 117 the lengthening of the period of study, and the establishment of suitable laboratories in several of our medical schools are among the evidences of this desire for reform. It is not my purpose on this occasion to discuss the serious defects of medical education in this country, or the remedies for their removal. I have called attention to these defects in order to emphasize the widely recognized need for improve- ment, and the appreciation and support which would be accorded by the medical profession to intelligent efforts to advance the cause of medical education. While not denying that the essential purposes of medical education can be attained by properly directed independent schools of medicine, T wish to point out some of the peculiar advantages and higher aims which should be associated with a medical department existing in intimate union with the other faculties of a university. To accomplish these purposes and to attain these aims, the medical department should not be dependent for its existence, merely upon the fees of stu- dents, but it should receive aid from the State, or better and more in accordance with the prevailing ideas concerning the support of higher education in this country, it should be amply endowed. To this fundamental point I shall return after indicating some of the especial benefits to be expected from such endowment. Appeal might be made to history to illustrate the beneficial influence of the university upon the development of medicine. We should find in the University of Alexandria the highest development of medicine in antiquity, in Salerno, Civitas Hip- pocratica, the dawn of mediawal universities, in Montpellier, Bologna, and Padna, the overthrow of scholasticism in medi- cine and the revival of scientific investigation, in Leyden the complete adjustment of medicine to the new conditions, brought about by the overthrow of Galenism and by the discoveries in anatomy and physiology, above all by the dis- covery of the circulation of the blood by Harvey. From Leyden we could trace influences which have affected the organization and the methods of instruction in the leading medical schools of Europe. But interesting as it might be to follow this historical path, 148 Union of Medical School and Univemity. [Sept., it is more pertinent to my present pnrpose to direct attention to existing conditions. What does the present state of medi- cal edncation and science teach as to the best system of medical education? It will donbtless be admitted by all whose knowledge en- ables them to form a competent judgment on the subject, that Germany to-day occnpies the leading position in medical edu- cation and in medical science. Onr own conntry has pro- dnced great physicians whose names are everywhere esteemed. It has contribnted an honorable share to the advancement of the art of healing. The prodnetion of distingnished physi- cians, scientific investigation in all branches of medicine, the snccessfnl pnrsnit of the healing art are not the exclusive pos- session of any race or of any conntry. While all this is tine, it mnst still be granted that in German nniversities (inclnding those of Anstria, Switzerland, and IRnssia) we find the most satisfactory and thorough teaching, and the most numerous and important discoveries in medicine. Every year a large nnmber of medical stndents and physicians from this conntry visit these nniversities to find there advantages not to be obtained here. If we attempted to analyze the canses of German pr& imi- nence in medical edneation, we shonld find that many causes combine to prodnce this result, bnt certainly not the least of these is the fact that medicine in Germany is tanght only as a department in a nniversity. Independent medical schools do not exist there. Something more than a feeling of piety for old forms has preserved the historic association of the medical with the other faculties. There is a conviction that the hightest interests of medical education and science are best snbserved by this association. This conviction is apparent in most of the German literature on medical edncation, and has been forcibly bronght ont in the discussions aronsed by the proposal to establish in Anstria one or more conjoint medical and scientific faculties in order to relieve the monstrons attend- ance of students in the medical department of the Vienna University. I have not adduced the status of medical education in Ger- many Lu order to make propaganda for the transference to 1888.] Union of illedical School and Univer8ity. 149 our soil of German university methods. Here, as elsewhere, systems of education must be adapted to the special condi- tions of the country. There is no reason to suppose that the especial conditions of a German university are essential for the fructifying influence of the university upon medical edu- cation. In the University of Cambridge, England, there has developed under Michael Foster a school of physiology, which is clearly traceable to academic influences and which is an honor alike to the university and to English medicine. We should not be justified in supposing that such results can not be obtained under favorable conditions by independent medi- cal schools, but experience demonstrates that the highest de- velopment of medical education is attained to-day as it has been in the past by the university system. It is doubtless not essential to the conception of a university that it should comprise all of the four traditional faculties. This union, however, belongs to the historic conception of the university and adds to its completeness. We may rejoice that Yale University by conforming to this historic conception, has and will continue to have a larger measure of usefulness and honor. With adequate pecuniary support of the medical department, there is every reason to believe that the associa- tion of medical studies with this university will prove no less beneficent for medical education, no less fruitful for medical science than such association has proved in the instances which have been mentioned. It is hardly necessary to say that these benefits are not the result of a merely formal connection of a medical school with a university. There are examples enongh of this purely out- ward and nominal connection to show that this brings with it no saving power. There must be a union in spirit as well as in name. The influences of university methods and idea must manifest themselves in the medical department, sympathetic relations must exist with other departments through the con- necting link of all, the philosophical faculty, and the co6pera- tion must be obtained of those physical and natural sciences, physics, chemistry, zoology, comparative anatomy, and botany, knowledge of which is essential to a complete medical educa- tion and to scientific research in every branch of medicine. 150 Union of ililedical School and University. [Sept., From what has been said, we may conclude that there is great need for improvement in medical edneation in this conntry, that there is wide-spread demand for reform, and that experience has shown that the best results are obtainable by a well snpported medical school in vital union with a urn- versity. I wish now to point out more specifically some of the advantages which belong to the university system of medical education. In the first place this system may be expected to maintain the proper balance between purely technical training in the medical art and cultivation of the medical sciences upon which this training should be based, or to express the same idea perhaps more intelligibly, although in somewhat crude and much abused terms, between the practical and the scientific side of medicine. It is evident that the study of practical medicine should be preceded by the study of the structure and functions of the human body in health. What the body is and what it does in health must be known before there can be any understand- ing of what it is and what it does in disease. The normal and peaceful workings of nature must be comprehended before its disordered manifestations can be understood. Ef- fectual and intelligent measures to prevent and to relieve disease, must be based upon the knowledge of the causes of disease and of the structural and functional disorders pro- duced by disease. Anatomy, physiology, and pathology then must form the foundation of any substantial system of medi- cal education. To any one who is familiar with the present state of these fundamental sciences, it must be clear that they can not be successfully taught and intelligently studied with- out thorough knowledge of physics, chemistry, and general biology. Human anatomy must be pursued in the light of embryol- ogy and of comparative anatomy. It then becomes a fascin- ating study, full of meaning, instead of a mass of unrelated facts to time significance of which there is no clue. Physiol- ogy is in large part the application of physics and chemis- try to the explanation and the investigation of time bodily 1888.] Union of Medical School and Univer8ity. 151 functions in health. To the employment of physical and chemical methods, physiology owes its position as the most exact of the medical sciences. Physiologists, says Pu Bois- iReymond, should regard themselves as chemists and physi- cists who work only in a particular direction. Pathology, with its two divisions, pathological anatomy and pathological physiology, aims to discover the alterations in structure and in function induced by disease, and it requires no less than do normal anatomy and physiology the assistance of the biological, physical, and chemical sciences. It is not necessary to elaborate here in detail all of the bearings of these sciences upon medicine. Enough has been said to make plain, that a good system of medical education must include thorough instruction in anatomy, physiology, and pathology grounded upon the natural and physical sciences. While this is generally conceded it is not the less true that these scientific branches of medicine do not receive the atten- tion which they deserve in this country. With few excep- tions, the instruction provided in our medical schools in these subjects is very defective, and the opportunities for their practical study meagre. In a medical school permeated by the university spirit, and in intimate association with a university, these sciences can not fail to receive proper recognition. It is their presence in the medical curriculum which renders particularly appropriate the incorporation of a medical faculty in a university. They are capable of imparting to the study and the practice of medicine the intellectual enjoyment of scientific investigation. Universities have always kept alive the ideal that the interests of life are not wholly material, but that they are spiritual and intellectual as well. May the time never come when this ideal shall be replaced by the estimate of knowledge, solely for its commercial value, or its immediate application to the practical necessities of life. Somewhat of this true university ideal should pervade medical study, if the practice of medicine is to be a profession and not a trade or a handicraft. In a university medical school of the character indicated, we may look then for the highest cultivation of the medical sciences. These sciences will not be estimated solely by their 162 U~ion of Medical Sekool and Univer8ity. [Sept., immediate or apparent practical bearings. With the scientific spirit thus engendered, we may expect to find an elevation of tone and a lofty ideal conducive to a high standard of educa- tion and fruitful in the best results for the character, the attainments, and the standing of the medical profession. Such a school in this country would give an impetus to higher medi- cal education and would be an example and an incentive to other medical schools. It is of course not claimed that the results here indicated are possible only in a medical school in a university, but it will not be denied that the atmosphere of a nuiversity is particularly favorable for their attainment. As already intimated the study of the scientific branches of medicine is to be in preparation for the study of practical medicine. The ultimate aim of medical education is and always shonld remain the prevention and the relief of disease. The scientific training has been emphasized, because it is the best preparation for practical medical studies. It is a narrow and short-sighted view which fails to recognize the essential importance in medical education of the study of the medical and related natural sciences. Before this audience there is no necessity of entering into any argument in opposition to such a view. The development of scientific and of practical medicine during the last half century, has been so immense that the number and the extent of subjects to be mastered by the medical student are far greater than formerly and are con- stantly increasing. It is a matter for serious consideration, how to distribute these subjects in a medical course, so that each shall receive its proper share of attention. This occasion is not a suitable one to discuss this question, but in view of the emph~sis which I have given to the study of the scientific subjects, and that there may be no misconception, I would say that, in my judgment, the last two years of a medical course should be given mainly to the study of the practical branches of medicine. This study I would have more prac- tical and demonstrative than it is with us at present. Sys- tematic lectures on the theory and practice of medicine and of surgery, could be in large part and with advantage replaced by clinical instruction and by recitations from text-books. A 1888.] Union qf iJitedical School and Unive~r8ity. 153 little more than two hundred years ago, Sydenham replied to the physician who asked him what medical authors he should study, Read Don Quixote. Such a reply would not be ap- propriate at the present day, when the abundance of excellent medical text-books renders no longer necessary media~val metbods of teaching. A shorter period of medical study than four years seems to me possible only with a preliminary medical training such as is already furnished with excellent results in some of our universities and with a supplementary experience in a hospital. Among the benefits to be expected from the vital union of a well endowed medical school with a university should be mentioned the encouragement of research. I am aware that this expression, encouragement of research, has become a catchword in many of our universities, playing with us much the same r6le as the akademi8che LeAr- und Lern-Frei,4eit in German universities. A high authority has been recently reported as saying that the encouragement of research em- bodies one conception of a university, and that this is the conception of a German university. How often from state and university authorities in Germany has protest been made against such an assumption! The encouragement of research is not the primary and fundamental conception in the organization and conduct of a German university, nor do I suppose such a conception to be the tine university ideal. But academia and schola should be united in a university, and no one will question that in a place where the highest education in all branches of knowledge is sought and found, the conditions should be rendered favorable for productive activity in the search for truth. Let medical education be brought under the academic influ- ences of a university, and let well equipped and properly sup- ported laboratories be supplied, then zeal for original inves- tigation will surely be developed, bringing renown to the university and progress to medical science. Whoever has a patriotic interest in seeing this country contribute its proper share to the investigation and solution of the great problems which engage the thought of the medical world, greets with especial cordiality all intelligent efforts to develop in our Union of Medical & kool and University. [Sept., medical education the scientific spirit and to increase the facilities for independent research. A distinguished professor of physiology in a German urn- versity, asked me not long ago: What becomes of the young men from yonr conntry who work in onr medical laboratories? While here they do good work and show an aptitude and capacity for scientific investigation, certainly not less than our native students. But after their return to America, we hear no more of them. I was obliged to explain to him, that the facilities and encouragement for carrying on scientific investigations in the medical institutions of this country are in general very meagre, and that one great impetus to such work is almost wholly lacking here, namely, the assurance or even likelihood that good scientific work will pave the way to an academic career. When America does wake up to the necessity of these things, he replied, then let Europe look to its laurels. We are waking up to this necessity. An intelligent and wide-spread interest in this direction has been aroused. Wit- ness the handsome bequests within the last few years for medical education, and the establishment of laboratories in many of our medical schools. The time is ripe, and who that has at heart the extended usefulness and the glory of this great university would not rejoice to see Yale in the van of this movement for higher medical education, and the advance- ment of medical science in this country. The study of medicine offers now the attractions of a natural science. This is doubtless one of the reasons why an increasingly large number of young men who have had a liberal education select the medical profession. The problems which await the scientific mind which comes armed with physics, chemistry, and general biology, are not only in them- selves of the greatest interest, but they relate to the welfare of humanity. IDogmas and exclusive systems of doctrine can no longer find a place in scientific medicine any more than in physics or chemistry. We seek the truth for its own sake, wherever and however we can find it. In the nature of things the only side of medicine of much interest to the general public is the treatment of disease. 1888.] Union of Medical Sekool and University. 155 There is, however, in all departments of medicine a vast body of scientific trnth the immediate application of which to the treatment of disease is not at present apparent. The medical sciences are in themselves and for their own sake as legitimate and worthy objects of pnrsuit as any other of the natnral sci- ences. It is no less true here than it is in chemistry, physics and other sciences that discoveries of the ntmost practical im- portance are made by those who do not select as their guiding principle the practical application of their work. A multitude of instances might be cited to show that those who work in laboratories and without any thought of the possible usefulness of their discoveries contribute to better means of diagnosis and of treatment of disease as well as do the physician and the sur- geon in the hospital. If the general public better understood the rapid advances of medicine and of surgery during the last half century and clearly appreciated the far reaching importance for the preservation of health and the relief of disease of subjects which in all depart- ments of medicine now engage attention, I believe that there would be no lack of means for the best medical education and for the prosecution of medical investigations in this country. Herophilus said that the best physician is he who knows the possible from the impossible. There is truth in this saying, but many things which were impossible to the physician in the days of Herophilus are possible now, and who shall say what is impossible for those who are to follow us. Consider for a moment the immense progress which has been made during the last few years in our knowledge of the causa- tion of infectious diseases, those most terrible scourges of man- kind. Who could have forseen that the little vegetable organ- isms which were studied over fifty years ago so minutely by Ehrenberg were destined to become so important to the phy- sician and surgeon. Among them to-day we recognize the specific causes of tuberculosis, of leprosy, of Asiatic cholera, of typhoid fever, of relapsing fever, of malaria, of erysipelas, of traumatic infections, and of a number of other diseases of human beings and of animals. Even the chemical substances by the production of which these microscopic organisms poison the system have in some instances been isolated in a crystalline 156 Union of Ailedical Sciwol and Univer8ity. [Sept., form. Some time ago a work on lock-jaw was introduced by the legend, cansa obsenra, vis notissima est. To-day we can say that there is no disease the canse of which is better under- stood, for we know not only the living germ which prodnces traumatic tetanus bnt also the habitat of this germ and the chemical substance by the production of which its destructive agency is effected. It would be rash to attempt to forecast the practical impor- tance of these discoveries. Already they have led to such modification and perfection of surgical methods that the infec- tion of wounds from the exterior may be rendered impossible. Antiseptic surgery is a boon to humanity of not less value than the introduction of vaccination and the discovery of ames- thetics. The discovery of the causative agents of a number of infec- tious diseases and the possibility of studying the characters of these agents, the conditions favorable and those hostile to their development have proven of great service to public hygiene and have stimulated increased interest in this most important subject. The establishment of hygienic laboratories in the leading universities of Germany is traceable in large measure to the recognition of the importance of bacteriology in the study of epidemic diseases and in other matters pertaining to public health. The value of a well equipped hygienic laboratory to a com- munity is well illustrated in Munich. In the admirable hy- gienic institute in that city are studied under Pettenkofers direction questions relating to sewage, drinking water supply, ventilation, the construction of slaughter houses, and similar subjects. Public spirit has there been stimulated and so intel- ligently directed that the sanitary arrangements of Munich are now among the best on the continent of Europe and the city has been transformed under adverse natural conditions from among the most unhealthful to one of the most healthful. The professor of pathology there complains that he is no longer able to demonstrate to the student the lesions of typhoid fever. The study of hygiene has become so specialized that degrees in public health are now given in England and the demand is made that medical health officers shall possess such diplomas as 1888.] Union of ]ifedical School and Un~versdy. 157 evidence of special training for their duties. I am not aware that in this country opportunities are afforded for the study of hygiene in a manner at all commensurate with its modern de- velopment and importance. We may expect, however, that with increased facilities for higher medical education hygienic laboratories will be established which shall meet the demands of the times. I have selected the recent discoveries in the causation of iii- fectioiis diseases as it seems pertinent to my purpose before an audience not composed wholly of medical men to illustrate the progress of medicine. It might be useful to indicate still fur- ther the character and the importance of subjects which are now prominent in the different departments of medicine but time bids me return to the more direct elucidation of my theme. I wish now to call attention to a very practical advantage in making a medical school a department of a university. This advantage relates to economy of organization. A university provides for tIme study of certain subjects which either are in- cluded in a medical course or should be required in a course preliminary to the study of medicine. The most important of these subjects are chemistry, physics, botany, zoology, and comparative anatomy. These subjects are included in the medical course in Germany, where they form the major part of the first two years study in preparation for the e~ramen pkysiemtm. They are studied, however, in the philosophical and not in the medical faculty. In the medical schools of this country no provision is generally made for the study of these sciences with the excep- tion of chemistry, and there is probably no more unsatisfactory feature in our medical courses than the teaching of chemistry. As a rule the instruction is chiefly in inorganic and organic chemistry. Physiological chemistry in the modern acceptation of the term is taught scarcely at all, nor can it be to advan- tage without preliminary training in inorganic and organic chemistry. There is of course just as much propriety, but no more, in including inorganic and organic chemistry in a strictly medical course as in including physics, botany, and comparative auatomy. If a medical school provides for in- struction in inorganic and organic chemistry, it should also 158 Union of Medical & hool and Univer8ity. [Sept., make provision for these other subjects. This would involve duplicating at great expense institutes already amply provided for at universities, and it is not likely that such institutes in exclusive dependence upon a medical school would flourish. There is no doubt that the sciences under consideration belong to the general scheme of medical education. If they be included in the curriculum of a medical school as is the case in Germany and imperfectly so in this country, there is the strongest reason that the medical school should be associa- ted with a university where adequate provision is made for their study. The small measure of success attending the study of inorganic and organic (excluding physiological) chemistry in our medical schools does not encourage us to hope that the es- tablishment of institutes for the study of other physical and natural sciences under similar conditions would yield better re- sults. The school of medicine in Paris is essentially independ- ent of the other faculties of the university and supplies its own professorships of physics, chemistry, and the natural sciences. VyTith reference to this arrangement, Du J3ois-IReymond, one of the greatest living physiologists, says, To the training of the French medical students in the natural sciences by lectures ad hoc, although often held by the most excellent men, to their nurture in the atmosphere of a practical professional school in which physics and chemistry are called science8 accessoires, I am inclined to attribute the backward position in wl~ich,in spite of the appearance of such a man as Claude Bernard, the study of physiology in France, in comparison with Germany, has in general remained. There have been established within recent years in onr col- leges and scientific schools, courses of instruction which are intended to be preliminary to the study of medicine, and which are admirably adapted for their purpose. These courses, which, so far as my knowledge extends, are somewhat peculiar to this country, give pronlise of great usefulness and should receive every encouragement. They are the natural outgrowth on the one hand of the defects in our system of medical edu- cation, and on the other hand of the direction in which our colleges have developed. ilere I can not refrain from expressing the hope that these 1888.] Union of Kedical School and Univer8ity. 159 courses preliminary to the study of medicine may be recognized in the academic as well as in the scientific departments of our colleges. I am well aware that here I am treading upon dan- gerous ground. In support of this proposition I would present the following considerations. If a young man choose the medical profession he should devote at least four years to medical studies including the pre- liminary sciences. One who has had a liberal education will probably supplement this with a year and a half in hospital experience, the value of which can not be overestimated. He is likely then to devote himself for a year or two to special professional studies, often in a foreign university. If this course of professional study, which is not longer than many pursue, is begun at the age when most young men are now graduated from our leading colleges, then he will not be able to enter upon the active duties of his professional life before thirty years of age or thereabouts. When one considers the long period of waiting and struggle before a successful practice is secured, it will be generally admitted that this is altogether too advanced an age for the beginning of active professional work. I know of instances where this consideration has stood in the way of young men enjoying the benefits of a college course. This condition of things has also proven a serious obstacle to lengthening the period of professional study, a reform which is imperatively demanded. Doubtless, as has been recently suggested by President Eliot, improvements should be made in the primary and preparatory schools so that tbe average age of admission to college may be lowered, without materially diminishing the requirements for admission. If, in addition to this, the last two years of the college course can be devoted mainly to studies bearing di- rectly upon medical education, the evil here depicted would be largely overcome. These studies are not professional. They belong in themselves to a liberal education and are best pur- sued without reference to their practical bearings. They therefore appropriately find place in the college curriculum. It may be that such a plan as that suggested is contemplated here. It would seem that with possibly some increase in the opportunities for biological studies such a scheme would in- 160 Union of Afedical School and Univer8ity. [Sept., volve no radical changes in the present course and wonid be in the line of development of the college. To retnrn after this digression to our snbject, it may be said that even if chemistry (with the exception of physiological chemistry), physics and the biological sciences before mentioned shonld be relegated wholly to the so-called preliminary medical conrses, it would remain no less desirable that the medical school shonld be nnited with the nniversity. The relation of medicine to these sciences is too intimate to suffer divorce from them withont detriment. Snitable provision for the stndy of the preliminiary medical sciences in a nniversity is in itself a condition most favorable for the development in the same atmosphere of a medical school. It wonld often happen that a stndent finds it necessary to make np sonic deficiency in one or another of the natnral sciences, while pnrsning his medical studies, and opportunity for this conjoint study, for which other occasions wonld also arise, shonld be present. Tn the relation, then, of medicine to certain of the natnral and physical sciences is to be fonnd one of the most important ad- vantages of the association of a medical school with a nuiversity. Physiological psychology is a snbject which shonid be men- tioned as pertaining to medicine as well as to philosophy. Its snccessfnl cnltivation reqnires the aid of physiology, anatomy, and psychiatry. Opportunity for the pnrsnit of this snbject should be afforded to those engaged in medical stndies. Psy- chology, however, belongs to the philosophical and not to the medical faculty. This affords another illnstration of the mu- tnal benefit resnlting from the association of these facnlties. We may also expect this association to fnrther the stndy of the history of medicine, a snbject which nothwithstauding its in- terest and value is mnch neglected. Nothing is more liberaliz- ing and condncive to medical cultnre than to follow the evolution of medical knowledge. Finally it may be nrged with propriety that a medical de- partment nnder the administration of a nniversity is a more snitable object for endowment and is more likely to receive bequests of money than are most of our independent medical schools. Those who are acquainted with the organization of these independent schools will not find it difflcnlt to understand 1888.] Union of Aledical School and Univer8ity. P31 why so few endowments in support of medical education in this country have been given. The first large pecuniary bequest in behalf of medical edu- cation in this country was made by Johns Hopkins. This has been recently followed by the Yanderbilt gift to the medical department of Columbia College in New York and by several similar bequests chiefly for the construction of laboratory build- ings. There is no department of higher education which to-day in this country stands so much in need of pecuniary endowments as that of medicine. The relation of medical education to the pub- lic welfare renders especially urgent its claims in this regard. A system of medical education in accordance with modern ideas and adapted to present demands can not be maintained without endowment or State aid. More is required than didactic and clinical lectures and the simple appliances of former times. There is need of thoroughly equipped laboratories, which, if properly conducted, can not be made self-supporting. In most of the German universities nearly three times as much money is paid for the support of the laboratories required by the medical faculty as is given in salaries to the medical professors. The medical school must be lifted above the necessity of ob- taining its means of existence solely from the fees of students, if a high standard of education is to be attained. At present it would be suicidal for an unendowed medical school to adopt an ideal course of medical instruction. Under present con- ditions such a school is likely to make its requirements no higher than is demanded by the students themselves. The manifold benefits which I have attempted in part to depict as resulting from the union of medical school and uni- versity can not be secured to any appreciable degree without endowment. I can not conclude this address without saying a few words concerning the advantages which this university presents for the development of medical education along the lines which have been snggested. Here in my judgment are conditions most favorable for the development of a university school of medicine which shall meet modern demands. The only doubt which can arise on this point in the mind of any one is whether VOL. XIII. 12 162 Union of Aledical School and University. [Sept., there is a sufficient number of patients for clinical instruction. This donbt is not justified by the facts. Of the twenty uni- versities in Germany, all with medical faculties, thirteen are in towns with smaller population than that of New Haven. In this list are included snch famons medical schools as those of Bonn, Gdttingen, Greifswald, Heidelberg, Tiibingen, Wnrz- burg. This comparison does not lose all force even if allow- ance be made for the special conditions which favor a relatively larger attendance of patients in the German hospitals. A growing city of 80,000 inhabitants should furnish material adequate for the essential needs of clinical instruction. I am informed by those in a position to know that there is sufficient material here for thorough clinical teaching. Certainly it is desirable to have as large clinical material as possible, but it is an error to suppose that medical schools can flourish only in connection with large metropolitan hos- pitals. Even for clinical instruction there are not a few ad- vantages associated with the smaller medical schools. Billroth, one of the most distinguished clinical teachers living, advises medical students to avoid the large and crowded universities, and that too in order to obtain their early clinical instruction. Clinical teaching does not consist simply in the exhibition of a large number of cases of disease. Methods of examination are to be taught. The art of obtaining all of the subjective and objective symptoms, the modes of physical examination, the use of electricity, of the laryngoscope and of the ophthal- moscope, the application of the microscope and of chemical analysis to diagnosis, in a word all that belongs to the prop~e- deutics of clinical study must be learned. This propaedeutical clinical instruction, which is too much neglected, does not re- quire a large number of patients and can not be satisfactorily imparted to a large class of students. After this careful clini- cal training, the larger metropolitan hospitals and clinics can be visited with advantage. Granted then that the conditions for clinical instruction furnish no obstacle to the development of this medical school, there remain all of the advantages of association with the uni- versity. Here are already established laboratories for all of the natural 1888.1 Union of .Miedical School and University. 163 sciences, the importance of which for the study of medicine has been emphasized. There are already admirable opportuni- ties for the study of physiological chemistry, which, to the best of my knowledge, is nowhere else in this country so ade- quately represented. Laboratories for studies and original investigations in anatomy, physiology, pathology, hygiene, and experimental therapeutics are needed. These above all are the medical subjects which can be cnltivated nowhere more successfully than under university influences and in co5peration with other natural sciences. The atmosphere of a university town free from the distractions of a large city is most favorable for the scientific pursuit of these fundamental branches of medicine. To reap the fruit of these advantages the medical depart- ment must receive large pecuniary aid. The Yale medical school has an honorable history; but it can not to-day attain the height of its endeavor or meet the demands for higher medical education without a considerable endowment. In no other direction could this university expand with greater promise of usefulness and of renown than in the line of liberal support of the highest and most scientific medical education. 164 Historic Forces which gave rise to Puritanism. [Sept., ARTICLE 11.THE HISTORIC FORCES WHICH GAVE RISE TO PURITANISM.* OvEn the principal entrance to this Church an inscription was placed, not many years ago, by onet who will long be remembered here with affection, which records the fact that a company of English Christians, led by John iDavenport and Theophilus Eaton, were the founders of New Haven, and that here they built their first house of worship. Underneath this church, where we are now gathered, reposes their dust; yet their blood is still throbbing in the veins of the men and women who are around us. On the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the landing of that company of English Christians on these shores, we cannot but direct our thoughts to them. The impress of what they did is upon all about us. Even these streets, this Green, so much more spacious and convenient than anything which had been planned on this continent before their time, bear testimony to the enlightened views which they had of what a city should be. Even we ourselves, our conceptions of life, our tastes, our very preju- dices, are the result, in no small degree, of ideas of right and of duty which led them to brave the sea and all the dangers of an unknown wilderness. To-day that company of Eliglish Christians,the forefathers of this town,walk these streets once more. There is no one so thoughtless, who has not asked himself what manner of men they were. There is no one so well acquainted with their history who will not find that a new consideration of what it was that they undertook to do, and of the results which they accomplished, will serve as an ennobling force to give him fresh inspiration for his own narrower round of duty. But the story of what that company of English Christians did has been so often told, that I shall not attempt to tell it * An Address on the occasion of the two hundred and fiftieth anni- versary of the settlement of New Haven, April, 1888, before the Con- gregational Club, delivered in the Center Church, by WILLIAM L. KINGSLEY. ~ Rev. Leonard Bacon, D.D.

164 Historic Forces which gave rise to Puritanism. [Sept., ARTICLE 11.THE HISTORIC FORCES WHICH GAVE RISE TO PURITANISM.* OvEn the principal entrance to this Church an inscription was placed, not many years ago, by onet who will long be remembered here with affection, which records the fact that a company of English Christians, led by John iDavenport and Theophilus Eaton, were the founders of New Haven, and that here they built their first house of worship. Underneath this church, where we are now gathered, reposes their dust; yet their blood is still throbbing in the veins of the men and women who are around us. On the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the landing of that company of English Christians on these shores, we cannot but direct our thoughts to them. The impress of what they did is upon all about us. Even these streets, this Green, so much more spacious and convenient than anything which had been planned on this continent before their time, bear testimony to the enlightened views which they had of what a city should be. Even we ourselves, our conceptions of life, our tastes, our very preju- dices, are the result, in no small degree, of ideas of right and of duty which led them to brave the sea and all the dangers of an unknown wilderness. To-day that company of Eliglish Christians,the forefathers of this town,walk these streets once more. There is no one so thoughtless, who has not asked himself what manner of men they were. There is no one so well acquainted with their history who will not find that a new consideration of what it was that they undertook to do, and of the results which they accomplished, will serve as an ennobling force to give him fresh inspiration for his own narrower round of duty. But the story of what that company of English Christians did has been so often told, that I shall not attempt to tell it * An Address on the occasion of the two hundred and fiftieth anni- versary of the settlement of New Haven, April, 1888, before the Con- gregational Club, delivered in the Center Church, by WILLIAM L. KINGSLEY. ~ Rev. Leonard Bacon, D.D. 1888.] ilistoric Forces which qave rise to Puritanism. 165 over again. It has seemed to me that it might better serve the pnrpose of this hour, and enable us to get a more lifelike conception of the personality of the founders of our town, if I were to recall to your minds what were sonic of the historic forces which made them what they were. The age which gave them birth was inot isolated from those which preceded it. The ages are all interlocked. That which precedes always prepares the way for that which succeeds. Their age was the legitimate outcome of the ages which had gone before, as our age has felt the shaping influences and is the product of the age in which they lived. They were as truly the children of their past as we are of our past. Bear with me then, if I ask you to go back with me for a few moments to a period as far before them as the period of their settlement of New Haven is before us. Such a consideration of some of the historic forces which made theni what they were may not be without its value. If we thus go back two hundred and fifty years before the founding of New Haven, we come to the fourteenth century. I will remind you that this was long before the discovery of America by Columbus. The nations of the continent of Europe had hardly emerged from the chaos of feudal warfare. The great nobles had still so much power that they were the rivals even of their sovereigns, and were ever combining against them or against each other, whenever ambition or some fancied grievance tempted them. The Church too had lost much of the power of a living faith. The ecclesiastical digni~ taries had become, to a great extent, as mundane and as ambitious as the nobles. A large part of them had given themselves up to a life of self-indulgence. The gluttony of the monks was proverbial. St. Bernard, centuries before, complained that there were bishops who had so many different kinds of wine on their tables that it was impossible even so much as to taste the half of them. We read of the monks in a certain monastery who complained of their abbot because he had reduced their ordinary dinners from sixteen to thirteen dishes. As for the laity, there was no independent thought among them, no independent action. 166 Hi8toric Forces which qa~e rise to Puritanism. [Sept., But things had begun everywhere to take an upward tend- ency. The commercial activity, started by the Crusades, had served to break down many of the barriers which had sepa- rated the people of different countries. The cities which had their rise in the twelfth century had acquired franchises and privileges, and the burghers had learned many lessons in freedom. Universities had been established, and though the learned doctors who had been trained in them expended their strength in the unprofitable word-splittings of the scholastic philosophy, yet learning was preserved, and the intellects of an ever increasing multitude of students were sharpened into activity. The Christian Church also, so democratic in its organization, which through the Middle Ages had been the protector of the weak against the strong, still, notwithstanding its degeneracy, preached the doctrines of kindness and charity, and was an ever present protest against the excesses of strife and violence. England, at the period to which we have gone back, was in many respects one of the least important of the States of Europe. In population it was far inferior. The mass of its inhabitants were occupied with the cultivation of the soil. The national wealth consisted in flocks, and herds, and the harvest of the year. Credit was unknown. To be sure, English sailors from the Cinque Ports had made themselves at home on the sea. A few manufactures were carried on, though they were of the rudest kind. But compared with the nations of Southern Europe, or with those great cities which were growing up in the Low Countries and in Italy, England held a very inconsiderable position. Its inhabitants were a coarse and even a brutal people. The grandees of the royal and imperial courts of Italy and of Con- stantinople, the merchant princes of Venice, of Genoa, of Pisa, of Binges, and of Antwerp, looked on them as little better than barbarians. They were thoroughly rude and unculti- vated. The stock from which they had originally come was a coarse one. No one of the savage tribes which had overrun the Roman Empire was more fierce or more cruel than those Saxons, and Angles, and Jutes, and Frisians, who had come 1888.1 Historic Forces which gave rise to Puritanisrn~. 167 over from their primeval forests to ravage and bntcher, and finally to settle themselves in that foggy island, which was naturally only a little more habitable than their own iunddy swamps in Jutland. Mr. Tame has described theni in language which it may be worth while to repeat: Huge white bodies, cold blooded, with fierce blne eyes, reddish flaxen hair, raven- ous stomachs, filled with meat and cheese; of a cold tempera- ment, prone to brutal drunkenness! Pirates! They had found that of all kinds of hunting, the man-hnnt was the most profit- able and the most noble! From that moment, sea-faring, war, and pillage became their ideal of a freemans work. So they left the care of their land and flocks to the women, and in wretched boats of hide dashed to sea in their two sailed barks, and landed anywhere; killed everything; and having sacrificed in honor of Odin and Thor the tithe of their prisoners, and leaving behind them the red light of their bnrnings, went further on to begin again. Lord,says a certain litany deliver ns from the fury of the Jutes! Of all barbarians, they were the strongest of body, the most formidable, and the most cruelly ferocious. For centuries the descendants of these vikings had fought with the Britons, and fought witb each other, and there had been little to elevate or refine them. In due time, they had accepted the Christian religion, and they had made some considerable advances towards civiliza- tion; but a state of things still existed among them in the fourteenth century which to us at the present day seems little better than anarchy. It was the period of the hundred years war waged in France by the English kings for the possession of the throne of that country. During that war, English soldiers had become accustomed to deeds of outrage, and had been trained to the work of plunder, in all its various forms, the pillage of farm houses, the sack of cities, the ransom of captives! The feeling common among them was expressed by the soldier who exclaimed: If God had been a soldier nowadays, he would have been a marauder ! It is not sur- prising that on the return of these men to England, lawlessness and brutality reigned without check. The historian Green says of this period, that houses were sacked, judges were overawed or driven from the bench, peaceful men were hewn 168 Historic Forces which gave rise to Puritanism. [Sept., down by assassins or plundered by armed bands, women were carried off to forced marriages, elections were controlled by brnte force, parliaments were degraded into camps of armed retainers. llnme says, No snbject conld trnst to the laws for protection. Men openly associated themselves, nnder the patronage of some great baron, for their mntual defence. They wore public badges, by which their confederacy was distinguished. They supported each other in all quarrels, iniquities, extortions, murders, robberies, and other crimes. Their chief was more their sovereign than the king himself. There was perpetual turbulence, disorder, and faction. Jes- sop, an English antiquary, says: If a man had a claim on another for a debt, or a piece of land, or a right which was denied him, or even if he thought he had, he found no difficulty in getting together a score or two of ruffians to back him in taking the law into his own hands. The books arc full of the stories of outrage and savagery, that were constantly occurring. The villein who had run away from his lord and become an outlaw, the broken soldier returning penniless from the wars, found shelter and wages in the homes of the greater barons, and furnished them with a force ready at any moment for violence or strife. It was the recognized custom of the time. It was even reduced to a system, and was known by the name of maintenance. England was divided into numberless hostile camps. The state of things was little better than that of an arnied truce. Every one was attached to some one of the warring factions, and these might come to blows any day on the slightest provocation. The yeomen and even the lords of the manor everywhere put on the livery of some powerful baron in order to be able to secure aid and patronage in any fray or suit in which they might be engaged. Mr. Green says that, even in Parliament itself, the White IRose of the house of York, the IRed IRose of the house of Lancaster, the port- cullis of the Beauforts, the pied bull of the Nevils, the bear and ragged staff of the Beauchamps, were seen on hundreds of breasts. In further illustration of the condition of things in England at this time, IDr. Jessop says that in a small parish in Norfolk a certain John de la Wade got together a band of men, 1888.] Historic Forces which gave rise to Pur~tanism~. 169 invaded the manor of Hamon de Cleure, seized the grain, threshed it, cut down the timber, and carried off the whole. He then describes at length two other cases of a precisely similar kind which happened the same year in the same parish. He tells us also that two gentlemen of position went with twenty-five of their retainers to the Hall at Little Barniugham, where lived an old lady, Petroriilla de Gros ,set fire to the house in five places, dragged the old lady out with brutal violence, and so worked upon her fears as to compel her to tell them where were her jewels and money. In another little parish, which he describes, he says the catalogue of crime for the year is so ghastly,I use his own words, as positively to stagger one. I will not take any account of the minor offenses which, as he says, were brought to trial before the courts, or give the details of the worst crimes which he describes; but he says that, in that small parish, in one year, eight men and four women were murdered, arid that there were besides five fatal fights. The degree of civilization to which the people of England had then attained can be estimated from the way in which they lived. Dr. Jessop tells us that the greater part of the people lived in houses which were no better than what we should call hovels. They were covered with turf, and some- times with thatch. None of them had chimneys. They had not even windows. The hole in the roof which let out the smoke rendered windows unnecessary. Even in the houses of the nobility, windows were rare. Oiled linen cloth served to admit a feeble semblance of light and keep out the rain. In the houses of the laborers, the fire was in the middle, and around it the laborer and his wife and children huddled. Going to bed meant flinging themselves down on the straw, as now in a gypsys tent. Dr. Jessop says that the food of the majority of the people of England was of the coarsest descrip- tion. The poor mans loaf was black as mud and as tough as shoe leather. In the winter time, turf was burned; but the horse and sheep and cattle were half starved for at least four months in the year, and one and all were much smaller than they are now. There were no potatoes, and the absence of vegetables for the greater part of the year, together with the 170 Historic Forces which gave rise to Puritanism. [Sept., utter disregard of all hygienic laws, made diseases of all kinds frightfully common. As for the laborers dress, it was a single garment, a kind of tunic leaving the arms and legs bare, with a girdle of rope or leather tied round the waist, in which a knife was stuck to use sometimes in hacking his bread, some- times for stabbing an enemy in a quarrel. Dr. Jessop adds that if the houses of the laborers were squalid, and dirty, and dark, the homes of the employers of labor were not much better. In the homes of the nobles and of the gentry, and in some of the more richly endowed of the monasteries, there might be more provision for comfort; but, even centuries later, fresh straw was laid down daily in the palace of the king. Coarseness and want of refinement char- acterized the gentry and the nobles. Their ignorance was great. Their tastes were low. Anthony Wood, the historian of the University of Oxford, tells a story of a baron of that day at whose castle two students presented themselves and sought an introduction by sending in their academical creden- tials, in which, among other accomplishments, they were described as gifted with a poetical vein. But so far was the baron disposed to treat them with the slightest respect, that he ordered that they should be put in two buckets over a well and be dipped alternately into the water until each should produce a couplet on his awkward situation. The historian says that it was not till after a considerable number of duck- ings that the unfortunate students finished the rhymes, while the baron and his retainers stood around during the process of concoction, and made themselves merry over these involuntary ascents and descents. I have carried you back with me in English history just about as far before the time of the landing on these shores of the founders of this town, as the period of their landing is before this anniversary occasion. I have done this because in order to form any adequate conception of what they and the other men of the seventeenth century were, it is necessary to understand what the men of England were who preceded them in the fourteenth century. Just as to have any proper appre- ciation of tbe sun in its early dawn, while it is still struggling 1888.] Ristoric Forces which gave rise to Puritanism. 171 with the mists of morning and its rays are obscured and the air is damp and chill, it is necessary to go back, in thought at least, to the thick darkness that one short hour before covered all. It would seem as if it were hardly necessary to remind you that, according to the unalterable laws of nature, the dawn with all its incompleteness must ever precede the day. Yet there have always been, and always will be, sentimental people, who dissatisfied with the dull routine of their lives, will delight to deceive themselves, and will plaintively sigh for the good old days, and imagine that, at some remote period in the past, there was a fabulous age, in which the early dawn lighted up and gilded the world as gloriously as the sun in mid heavens. But this is all a dream. The facts stubbornly refuse to countenance a belief in any such period. They point to the future as the only golden age. It is becanse so many persons have not understood this, that they have actually sup- posed when they have heard of the darkness of the past, of its narrowness, its bigotry, its cruelty, that these were the special characteristics of the Puritans, that it was the Puritans who were in some way responsible for all that is so repulsive; when it was the Puritans who, although not entirely free from the effects of the influences under which they had been edu- cated, grappled, with resolute and intrepid spirit, with the abuses of their time, and sought to clear them away and bring in something better. The description I have given of England in the fourteenth century is very imperfect. Any description, so brief as such an hour as this allows, must be entirely inadequate. Yet perhaps it has served to remind you what thick darkness then covered England. That century and the centuries before it nave been called the centuries of death. They were so indeed! Yet perhaps they might better be called centuries of birth. But the processes by which the development of life proceeded were so painfully slow that we grow ~weary as we trace them in our histories, and even from century to century we can hardly assure ourselves that there has been any substantial progress; or scarcely that there is any life at all,death and life seem to contend together so long for the mastery. To watch the struggle between the new life and the old death i~ like watching the slow coming on of the belated spring. 172 Historic Forces which gave rise to Puritanism. [Sept., With our idea of the orderly ongoing of the business of life in a civilized community, it is simply impossible to uuderstand the contrasts then presented in England. We have them described however by men whose testimony is unimpeachable, by men too who described them from different points of view and for different purposes. One of the witnesses is Wydiffe a scholar who had been at first drawn away from his aca- demic studies by the necessity of appearing in the defence of the rights of the crown against IRoman aggressions. As the struggle went on, he was brought to realize how little the church, as then constituted, was doing for the spiritual inter- ests of the people, and he conceived the idea of translating the Bible for their use. But the first of the reformers came too soon. Another contemporary witness is William Longland, the poet of the poor. A third is the genial Chaucer,the poet of the brightest side of the life of the period. Longland and Chaucer have been called Puritan poets, though they lived before what is distinctively called the Puritan age. They substantially agree as to the disheartening character of the outlook. Peterkin, the ploughman, pictures the woes of the laboring classes, the vices and the abuses that reigned every- where, and especially the moral destitution of the people. He arraigns the church as responsible for it. He boldly attacks its corruptions. He pictures its worldliness, and the careless- ness of its dignitaries. He describes the hypocrisy, the ignor- ance, the insolence, the immorality of the ecelesiastics. He professes himself to be in despair, and finds his only comfort in the hope that there may yet be a thorough religious ref or- mation. In opposition to all the perfunctory formalities prescribed by the church, he proclaims that a righteous life is far better than a host of indulgences. Chaucer draws attractive pictures of the well-to-do citizens of different ranks, the doctor, the man of law, the clerk, the franklin, the squire, the parson, the friar, the miller. He does this with a lightness and brilliancy of touch, with a geniality and human sympathy which has delighted all succeeding generations; yet, through all, the self-indulgence and indolence and carelessness of the ecelesiastics are plainly revealed, and their neglect of the spiritual interests confided to their care. With these witnesses 1888. Hi8toric Force8 which gave ri8e to Puritanism. 173 before us, the question cannot but arise, how could the Eng- land of Piers Ploughman, and the England of Chaucer exist side by side ? That they did, there can be no question. I have thought that the strange contrasts which then existed, and which Longland and Chaucer reveal, are perhaps well illustrated by the scenes in an English novel, which not long ago was widely read and admired; though it describes a very different period of English history. I refer to a picture of English rural life, most attractive in many respects, as it existed in the latter part of the seventeenth century. I refer to Lorna IDoone, written by li. ID. Blaclimore. Those of you who have read the work will remember that the reader is introduced into the charming home of an English yeoman. Nothing in English literature is more beautiful than the description which is given of the order and regularity with which everything proceeds in this almost ideal farm house. But within a few miles live a nest of brutal outlaws,all men, it is well to notice,in whose veins flow the blood of the nobility of England. These outlaws subsist by regular sys- tematic robbery. There is no farm house that is not at any time in danger of a visitation; no family that is not liable to be waked at night and to find ricks, and barns, and the house itself, in a blaze; no family that does not know that if they have gained for themselves the enmity of these men, they may be exposed, as they attempt to make their escape,men, women, and children,to the merciless shots of these mid- night marauders. This was the state of things in England half a century after New England was settled. Now in the fourteenth century it was immeasurably worse. Brigandage in a hundred forms was almost an every day occurrence. No pack wagon carried merchandise on any road of England, from town to town, without the protection of an armed guard. Yet, notwithstanding every precaution, it was liable to be stopped on the highway by a stronger force, its contents seized and carried off. Dr. Jessop says of this period, after a detail of particulars which are too revolting for repetition: It is impossible to realize the hideous ferocity of the state of society at this time. The women were as bad as the men, furious beldames, dangerous as wild beasts, without pity, without 174 ]9listoric Forces which gave rise to Puritanism. [Sept., shame, and without remorse, who finding life so cheerless, so hopeless, so very, very dark and miserable, when nothing else was to be gained by killing anyone else, killed themselves. And yet at that very time the courts were everywhere open. Judges rode their circuits, and bishops made their regular visitations. Such were the amazing contrasts that England presented in the fourteenth century. I shall not undertake to give anything like a description of events between the fourteenth and the seventeenth centuries; but I will remind you that of the two hundred and fifty years between 1388 and the landing of that company of English Christians on these shores, the whole of the first half was little better than the fourteenth century. During a great part of it, the period of the Wars of the Roses, it was actually in many respects worse. It is true that there was progress, but it was hardly apparent at the time. At the end of the next hundred years, however, about the close of the sixteenth century, or at the close of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, a great change had become apparent. Put you will notice that we have now come quite down to the time of the birth of John Davenport and Theophilus Eaton, and it is for this reason that we are interested to inquire what were the forces during the sixteenth century that brought about the change from the darkness of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. What were the influences under which the characters of the founders of New Haven were formed? In attempting to answer this question, I remind you that England had been almost the last country in Europe to feel the effects of the intellectual regeneration which commenced in Italy on the arrival of the Greek scholars, who had fled from Constantinople upon its capture by the Turks in the fifteenth century. In each of the countries of Southern Europe, the effects of the new learning, as it was called, which these Greek scholars brought, were felt in the stimulus that it gave to thought. Tame says, Men then opened their eyes for the first time and saw. The first effect in each country was to destroy all interest in the native literature, which till then had given delight. But soon a new literature 1888.] ]J7storic Forces which gave rise to Puritanism. 175 arose, far more vigorous, and so full of freshness and beauty that it is still the admiration of the world. But, among those sonthern nations, the new learning to a great extent ex- pended its power in the domain of literature. Yet it is to be noticed that, even in its influence on literature, its effects varied in different countries according to the race character- istics of the people. So in England, the effects of the new learning were felt in the line of the race characteristics of that people. But as the English were not predisposed to any special interest in the beautiful, in any of its forms, the revival in England was not at all of a literary or of an artistic char- acter. The English were a practical people, and so the revival among them was distinguished by the effects which it pro- duced in a practical way upon what had been from the first their strongest race characteristicstheir religious spirit and the spirit of freedom which animated them. In England, the effect of the new learning was to give a new and rapid devel- opment to each of these. The first of these race characteristics of the English people of which I Will speak was their interest in religion. This was one of the marked characteristics of our Teutonic ancestors, when we first hear of them among the German forests. They had a predisposition to take serious views of life and to ponder the questions which relate to the hereafter. The people of Southern Europe were satisfied with the sensuous beauty of the visible. In the gloomy North, nature was everywhere so wild and savage that men seem to have been disposed to look beyond it, and, instead of resting in the contemplation of the visible which was so forbidding, to think of the Being to whom Nature owed its origina Beiug infinitely great, who could only be apprehended by the reverent mind. In the Eddas are preserved their first rude ideas. Coarse people, as they were, they loved to dwell on such high themes as Right, Duty, Responsibility, Honor, Heroism, Self-Sacrifice. Tacitus tells us that their preference was to live solitary, each one near the spring or the wood which had taken his fancy. Even when they dwelt in villages, each family lived apart. Each Teuton thought for himself. Each Teuton acted for himself. 176 historic Forces which gave rise to Puritanism. [Sept., All were distinguished for their reticence, their personal inde- pendence, their manly dignity, their marked individuality. To them life presented itself as a warfare, and in the Sagas it is the man who is loyal to the right, and is willing to sacrifice self, that is held up as worthy of the highest praise. I quote from a description of a warrior who in battle had refused to save himself, when his chief was in danger. He is represented as saying I will not budge hence. I mean to die by my lords side, near this man I have loved so much. Then we are told, This warrior kept his word, the word he had given to his chief. He had sworn that they should either return to their homes together safe and sound, or that they should both fall together in the thick of the carnagc, covered with wounds. The Saga closes, The dead warrior lay by his chiefs side, a faithful servant. After the old vikings had come to England to live, the first glimpse that we have of their descendants shows that they were true to their race instincts. Christian missionaries visited them, and addressed their king, as he was entertaining his chiefs at a feast. When the missionary had finished, a warrior arose and said, You remember, () King, that which sometimes happens in winter when you are seated at table with your earls and thanes. Your fire is lighted, and your hall is warm, and without is rain and snow and storm. Then comes a swallow flying across the hall. He enters by one door and leaves by another. The brief moment while he is within is pleasant to him. He feels not rain nor cheerless wintry weather; but the moment is brief. The bird flies away in the twinkling of an eye, and he passes from winter to winter. Such methinks is the life of man on earth compared with the uncertain time beyond. It appears for a while, but what is the time which comes after, what the time which was before? We know not. If then, this new doctrine may teach us somewhat of greater certainty, it were well that we should regard it. The high priest then declared in presence of them all, that the old gods were powerless, that he knew nothing of that which he adored; and among the first, lance in hand, he assisted to demolish the temple where they had before wor- shiped. This interest in the time which comes after and the 1888.] Historic Forces which gave rise to Puritanism. 177 time which was before, this desire to attain to greater cer- tainty about the great questions which relate to the unseen and the hereafter never ceased to characterize the descendants of those old vikings. The lament of Piers Plonghman, and the writings of Wicliffe, even the gay verses of Chancer, give evidence of the hold which these same ideas had on the Eng- lish mind, even in those centuries when the church was most forgetful of its responsibilities. So when the new learning had begun in Italy to attract attention, we find that the men who first went there to study, Grocyn, Linacre, John Colet, did not go there simply for purposes connected with litera- ture. It was for a very different object. They looked upon the Greek language as a key that would enable them to un- lock the true meaning of the New Testament, in which they hoped to find that which would serve for the spiritual enlight- enment of their countrymen. They kept this end steadily in view. Uninfluenced by the semi-infidel scholars with whom they came in contact, they remained true to the special object for which they had left their homes, and on their return to England, established themselves in the universities, and began with enthusiasm to expound the Gospel and the Epistles of St. Paul. They soon preached a new theology, not founded on the Fathers and the Schoolmen, but on the words of Scripture. They were met by a storm of opposition from the ecclesiastics. They replied by demanding that there should be a reform of life among the clergy. Colet, at the direction of Archbishop Warham, addressed Convocation, and said, ~vX~Tould that for once you would remember your name and profession and take thought for the reformation of the Church! Never was it more necessary and never did the state of the church need more vigorous endeavors! We are trou- bled with heretics; but no heresy is so fatal to us and to the people at large as the vicious and depraved lives. of the clergy. That is the worst heresy of all. The reform of the bishops must precede the reform of the clergy. The reform of the clergy will lead to a general revival of religion among the people at large. The accumulation of benefices, the luxury and worldliness of the priesthood, must be abandoned. The prelates should preach, should forsake the court, and labor in vot. xmn. 13 178 Historic Forces which nave rise to Puritanism. [Sept., their own dioceses. Care should be taken for the ordination and promotion of worthy ministers. Residence should be en- forced. The low standard of clerical morality should be raised. As the new learning spread, the attack on the ecelesias- ties was taken up by others, prominent among whom was Erasmus, who wrote the Praise of Folly, in which he ex- posed with such wit and eloquence the ignorance and the bigotry of the ecelesiastics, that to this day it holds its place as a classic. Colet, at his own expense, established a grammar school in London. His example was everywhere followed. Henry VIII., Edward VI., Elizabeth, went on with the work, and grammar schools were opened all over England. Every- where there was seen an intellectual quickening. Parallel with this there was going on also an increase of wealth in the coun- try. English merchants began to trade with all the cities of Europe. English ships were sent into the II3altic and crossed the Ocean. Manufactures began to receive attention. A social revolution was beginning to make itself felt, which was not confined to London. In all the towns of England wealth increased and men set higher value on education and intel- ligence. Just at this moment, the friends of the new learning were able to give to the English people the Bible, which under the Roman system had been unknown among then, except to a few of the priesthood. In Germany, Luther had been a monk for years, when by an accident, as he was dusting the library of his monastery, he happened upon a copy of it. So in England, if the Bible had been known to the ecelesiastics, they had made no practical use of it. The Bible therefore came like a new revelation to a people who were thirsting for instruction. It was received as a fresh and inspired disclosure of the mind and will of God. The reverent submission which men had in former times been disposed to yield to the church was now at once transferred to that book. In place of the church, the Bible was accepted as the sole and sufficient authority. It served to assure the most humble believer that he might approach the Creator in direct and personal commun- ion without the intercession of any so-called saint, and without the help of any priest. 1888.] Hi8toric Force8 which gave ri8e to Puritani8m. 179 But what gave the Bible its special power was its adaptation to the strongest of the race characteristics of the English people, the English predisposition to religionthe English con- ception of each mans own individuality and each mans own personal responsibility. It may be said that the Bible has shown itself to be adapted to the race characteristics of every people. This is undoubt- edly true, and this fact has even sometimes been urged as one of the proofs of its divine origin. It certainly has shown itself to be a book for the world, for all people. The Hugue- not in France; the Camisards among the mountains of the Cevennes; the Waldenses in Italy; the Germans in the time of Luther; the people of Hindoostan and of the Islands of the sea., the old and the yonng, the prosperous and the unfortu- nate, the joyful and the sad, in all generations, in all periods of life, and under all circumstances, have found that it meets their myriad experiences and necessities, and in each new joy or sorrow, the devout believer finds in it solace, encourage- ment, or warning. Before our Civil War, how often were we told that there was something in the Old Testament which took hold, in a wonderful manner, of the imaginations of the slaves of the South. The story of the exodus, the journey in the wilderness, the denunciations of the prophets against the oppressor, the encouraging words of the Psalmist, the glorious pictures of the New Jerusalem in the Book of IReve- lation, seemed just adapted to meet all the peculiar sorrows and all the hopes of that imaginative race. This is all true. Yet it does seem as if no people have ever found their race characteristics more completely met by the Bible than the English in the sixteenth century. In exact harmony with their ideas of individualism, which are as old as the race, it seemed to address itself to each one personally. It told him of his individual obligations to God. It presented God as a governor, as the giver of a perfect law, which every man knew he had broken. It presented a remedy offered by God, by which the majesty of law could be upheld and yet man might be saved. It met his views of duty, of right, of self-sacrifice. It is difficult for us to appreciate the enthusiasm with which the Bible was received by the English people. Our literature 180 Historic Forces wAich gave rise to Puritanism. [Sept., is so varied. Books of every description are so numerous, that only to hear of a new book often almost wearies us. Yet even in these later times, a book sometimes absorbs the atten- tion of a whole people and moulds public opinion in a way that we can hardly understand. Mr. John Morleyin speak- ing of the appearance of a book written by a popular author just before the French iRevolution of 1798, which has been sometimes numbered among the causes which helped to bring on that crisis among the French peoplesays: The book- sellers were unable to meet the demand; the book was let out at the rate of twelve sous a volume, and the volume could not be detained above an hour. All classes shared the ex- citement, courtiers, soldiers, lawyers, and bourgeois. Stories were told of fine ladies dressed for the ball, who took up the book for half an hour, until the time should come for starting, who read until midnight, and when informed that the car- riage waited, answered not a word, and when reminded by and by that it was two oclock, still read on. Now it is to be noticed that this book of which Mr. Morley speaks, was only one book, and it appeared in France at a time when there was already an abundant national