NEW ENGLANDER AND YALE REVIEW. No. CCXXXII. JULY, 1889. ARTICLE 1.SCIENCE AND MIRACLE. IN every discnssion it is desirable to start from admitted facts, upon which all agree. When this is done, then any con- clusions which are fonnd to be inevitable and necessary deduc- tions from those facts are sure of acceptance. In Geometry, for example, we start from certain fundamental postulates, which are so self-evident that one might almost be pardoned for calling them truisms, and even rather trivial tru- isms at that; and we might at first sight, perhaps, be inclined to doubt that any worthy results could follow from the combina- tion of such universally acknowledged and superficial facts. Every one knows such facts, and they have always been known and acted upon by every reasoning being. It scarcely seems possible that any thing of value can come from merely formu- lating and combining them. But yet it is by just such com- bination of admitted facts in sound logical sequence, that every voL. xv. 1 2 Science and lJi/iiracle. [July, science has been built np, and the conclusions thns formed are fonnd to be really valuable, and by no means superficial or self- evident. We thus very soon learn the lesson that no fact is trivial or insignificant. Indeed, without this conviction the discovery of new facts would lose all significance, and the physical experimenter would labor without inducement. For what is any physical fact by itself, but a detached stone of the Temple of Science? It is because that stone has a place in the structure that it possesses value, and the structure itself is the result of related facts, which we call conclusions. These conclusions we are obliged to accept as expressing true relations, if we can detect no flaw in the logical sequence. Thus, if any one seeks to assault the conclusions of Geometry, he will be led inevitably to an attack on one or more of the funda- mental postulates. So long as these stand firmly on the solid ground of universal consent, he will attack 4n vain. The self- evident truth of these is the enduring ,foundation of the struc- ture. Now, in what I have to say, I wish to follow this method. If I depart from it without warning, it shall at least be uncon- sciously, and I shall be obliged to any one who may find me wandering. I intend to lay down first my premises. If they are accepted, I shall endeavor to proceed from them in what seems to me sound logical sequence, and point out those conclu- sions which appear to me the inevitable outcome of the prem- ises. These premises are very old. I do not bring forward any new facts. As Prof. INewcomb has remarked: The widest generalizations of modern science, in so far as they have modi- fied the older theories of the nature, origin, and destiny of man, are reached by looking upon well-known facts from a different point of view, rather than by discovering new facts. Nor are my conclusions new. Far from it. They are very old. But I would not tax your patience only to arrive at old conclusions from old facts, if I did not sincerely think that the method and argument employed have in them somewhat that is fresh in the logic and point of view. Nor do I seek to arrive at these con- clusions. They are simply the conclusions to which I am forced by my premises. If they happen to be old I cannot help it. I would rather they were new. This is but another 1889.] Science and JJfiracle. 3 illustration of the fact that truth is one, though the roads to it are mauy. But to arrive even at old couclusions by a uew road must be of interest and may even be of value, as affording fresh points of view, even to those already satisfied of the truth of the conclusions themselves. To those not thus satisfied, the fact that these conclusions are thus independently verified from another standpoint, and by another mode of procedure, may seem worthy of reflection. These, especially, I would ask to scrutinize my premises and logic, for, if in any case of dissent, they find themselves irresistibly driven back upon the prem- ises, my object is accomplished. My premises are by no means self-evident, and about them I am willing that the war may wage, secure in the final result, as all of them have been practically decided and accepted by the common sense of intelligent men. I postulate first Newtons law of gravitation, that every particle of matter in the universe attracts every other particle with a force directly as the mass and inversely as the square of the distance. It will be well to pause and consider this postulate before proceeding. I wish to waive all discussions as to law~~ and matter~~ and force ~ and mass. In general terms this law states that the entire universe is in some way so related in all its parts that any change of state wherever located, is a change throughout the whole extent. However we may differ about the significance of terms, it will, I think, be admitted on all hands that this general statement expresses more or less per- fectly a truth. The entire Universe! What did Newton, what does any mortal not gifted with omniscience, know about the entire Uni- verse? Evidently no man can make such a statement as an ascertained fact, but only as an inferenceand it is an inference only. It has been found to be true, wherever examination has probed. Its logical consequences have been proved to be true when extended to every member of the solar system. It has thus enabled us to tell the past and foretell the future. Step by step the cumulation of evidence has gone on, till conviction, full and irresistible as the most rigid demonstration could ever 4 Science and 111 iracle. [July, command, has been forced npon the minds of all intelligent men. There has come at last a point where we have risen to another inference, an inference from an inference, and we now say, Nature mnst be nniform. Must be! That is, we infer and demand such uniformity. We conclude that what is thus true wherever we can look, wherever we can test, wherever we have looked or tested, with not a single excep- tion in any mans experience, or in the history of the race; which holds true through all the past of the earth, and which is the key of the future; which is the basis of all that systema- tized and related knowledge which we call Science; the founda- tion of system in every department of human investigation; which has never put us to mental confusion in any of the myriad points at which science touches life and action must be true every where and at all times. Is true now, always has been, always will be true. This belief, this inference from an inference, we claim as a sure possession. Very properly and justly we refuse to even en- tertain any idea which controverts it. Upon no plea can we give it up. For, by so doing, more, we are convinced, would be lost than gained. In order to thus reconcile one outstanding diffi- culty, we should introduce an untold multitude of discords. We boldly say No! The plea you urge cannot be admitted, We hold the difficulty you thus seek to reconcile by admitting a thousand others, not to exist. It is apparent only, not real. Reconcile you it to our belief, so shall we have full harmony. But as for us, not one inch will we give way in the interests of such harmony, else would chaos come again. Science can- not afford to commit suicide. We hold that if under certain conditions we observe a cer- tain result, that if those conditions are again repeated, we shall infallibly observe again the same result. This is the certain basis of all Science. We believe that not once has it ever failed. Duplicate the conditions and you obtain the same ac- tion. This, we say, is true now, has been and always will be exactly true. Now a miracle is commonly understood to mean that under circumstances precisely similar to previous conditions, a result en- tirely different to what we have a right to expect has occurred 1889.1 Science and lJfiracle. 5 in other words, a breach of uniformity. To such a claim the man of science curtly says: I cannot entertain the report of any such occurrence, I do not believe it ever occurred. As Prof. Huxley has put it, the fundamental axiom of scientific thought is that there is not, never has been, and never will be, any dis- order in nature. The admission of the occurrence of any event which was not the logical consequence of the immediately ante- cedent events, according to these definite ascertained, or unas- certained, rules which we call the laws of nature, would be an act of self-destruction on the part of science. This position is thoroughly sound, and by no means to be at- tributed to intolerance, prejudice, or skepticism. A fair and impartial consideration of the evidence for and against, shows an overwhelming preponderance against any such disorder or breach of uniformity. No intelligent jury would hesitate one instant in their verdict. From this standpoint Prof. Huxley deals very trenchantly with believers in miracles. Suffer me to make rather a long quotation. In fact he says, the habitual use of the word law, in the sense of an active thing, is almost a mark of pseu- do-science; it characterizes the writings of those who have appropriated the forms of science without knowing anything of its substance. We commonly hear of bodies falling to the ground by reason of the law of gravitation, whereas that law is simply the record of the fact that, according to all experi- ence, they have so fallen (when free to move), and of the grounds of a reasonable expectation that they will so fall. There are two classes of these people (i. e. believers in miracles), those who are ready to believe in any miracle so long as it is guaranteed by ecclesiastical authority, and those who are ready to believe in any miracle so long as it has some different guar- antee. The believers in what are ordinarily called miracles those who accept the miraculous narratives which they are taught to think are essential elements of religions doctrineare in the one category; the spirit-rappers, table-turners, and all the other devotees of the occult sciences of our day are in the other; and, if they disagree in most things, they agree in this, namely, that they ascribe to science a dictum that is not scientific; and that 6 Science and 211 iracle. [July, they endeavor to upset the dictum thus foisted on science by a realistic argument which is equally unscientific. It is asserted, for example, that, on a particular occasion, water was turned into wine; and, on the other hand, it is asserted that a man or a woman levitated to the ceiling, floated about there, and finally sailed out by the window. And it is assumed that the pardonable skepticism, with which most scientific men receive these statements, is due to the fact that they feel them- selves justified in denying the possibility of any such metamor- phosis of water or of any such levitation, because such events are contrary to the laws of nature. So the question is triumph- antly put: How do you know that there are not higherlaws of nature than your chemical and physical laws, and that these higher laws may not intervene and wreck the latter ? The plain answer to this question is, why should anybody be called upon to say how he knows that which he does not know? You are assuming that laws are agentsefficient causes of that which happensand that one law can interfere with another. To us that assumption is as nonsensical as if you were to talk of a proposition of Euclid being the cause of the diagram which illustrates it, or of the integral calculus interfering with the rule of three. Your question really implies that we pretend to complete knowledge not only of all past and present phenom- ena, but of all that are possible in the future, and we leave all that sort of thing to the adepts of esoteric Buddhism. Our preten- sions are infinitely more modest. We have succeeded in find- ing out the rules of action of a little bit of the universe; we call these rules laws of nature,~ not because anybody knows whether they bind nature or not, but because we find it is obliga- tory on us to take them into account, both as actors under na- ture, and as interpreters of nature. We have any quantity of genuine miracles of our own, and if you will furnish us with as good evidence of your miracles as we have of ours, we shall be quite happy to accept them and to amend our expression of the laws of nature in accordance with the new facts. As to the particular cases adduced, we are so perfectly fair- minded as to be willing to help your case as far as we can. You are quite mistaken in supposing that anybody who is acquainted with the possibilities of physical science will undertake categori 1889.1 Science and Miracle. 7 cally to deny that water may be turned into wine. Many very competent judges are already inclined to think that the bodies, wbi~h we have hitherto called elementary, are really composite arrangements of the particles of a uniform primitive matter. Supposing that view to be correct, there would be no more theoretical difficulty about turning water into alcohol~ etherial and coloring matters, than there is at this present moment any pra~tii~al diffienity in working other such miracles; as when we turn sugar into alcohol, carbonic acid, glycerine and succiriic acid; or transmute gas refnse into perfumes rarer than musk, and dyes richer than Tyrian purple. Theoretically therefore, we can have no sort of objection to your miracles. And our reply to the levitators is jnst the same: Why should not your friend levitate? Fish are said to rise and sink in the water by altering the volume of an internal air-re- ceptacle, and there may be many ways Science as yet knows nothing of. by which we who live at the bottom of an ocean of air, may do the same thing. Dialectic gas and wind appear to be by no means wanting among you, and why should not long practice in pneumatic philosophy have resulted in the internal generation of something a thousand times rarer than hydrogen, by which, in accordance with the most ordinary natural laws, you would not only rise to the ceiling and float there in qua8i- angelic posture, but perhaps, as one of your feminine adepts is said to have done, flit swifter than train or telegram to still- vexed Bermoothes, and twit Ariel, if he happens to be there, for a sluggard? We have not the presumption to deny the possi- bility of anything you affirmonly, as our brethren are partic- ular about evidence, do give us as much to go upon as may save us from being roared down by their inextinguishable laughter. In accordance with Prof. huxleys position, I also would not speak of higher laws, or lower laws, or royal or ple- beian laws. I admit neither higher nor lower in what I recognize as clearly as himself to be merely a record of human experience. I am willing that miracle should rest upon the foundation of human experience and evidence, and as to the rest of his argument I wish to point out that the idea of mir- acle as something contrary to recorded experience, thereby introducing confnsion and disorder in nature is, however par- 8 Science and Jliliracle. [July, donable a misconception, still a misconception of the very point at issue. The entire issue lies here. It is an issue not the fault of Prof. Huxley. It has been made by others, not by him, and he certainly meets it and handles it vigorously. As miracle is ordinarily defined, this issue is undoubtedly raised. Webster defines miracle as an event or effect contrary to the established constitution and course of things, or as a deviation from the known laws of nature. Again, effected by the direct agency of almighty power, and not by natural causes per- formed supernaturally. I might multiply definitions, but little would be gained. The issue is directly made. A breach of uniformity is claimed. Now this issue I consider entirely false and as unnecessary as it is mischievous. But before taking it up, let us consider still further this first postulate of universal gravitation. You will observe that the statement of the law involves no explanation of the mechanism. We are called upon to accept it because its application justifies such acceptance, not because we understand how it is, or why it must be. It is worth while to note this. We do not accept it because we can explain or understand it, but simply because it explains, because it har- monizes all our knowledge. But all our knowledge casts no light upon it. It is mysterious. We accept it as ultimate. Our ignorance we find to be no obstacle to full belief and con- viction however. It is not necessary therefore, we see, to under- stand or to explain a fact before we accept it. Our conviction rests on other grounds. To explain a thing simply means to show it to be in accord with the rest of our knowledge. We dont really understand it the better for that, but we do accept it. Finally let me direct your attention to what this law of grav- itation involves. To say that if some enormous force were to move the earth or the moon from their present relations, it would introduce a disturbing element throughout the entire Universe, is a statement that any one would at once agree to. But to assert that to move a pebble, a grain of sand, a mote of dust, a particle so small that microscopic power would not de- fine it, would also introduce a disturbance throughout this illim- itable Universe of suns and systems, would not perhaps be so 1889.1 Science and 7ff iracle. 9 readily admitted. Why not? It is precisely the same state- ment. Size is relative. This earth and sun of ours are but motes in the gigantic scale of the Universe. Change the point of view and what was great becomes small, or inversely. The law holds good for great and small alike. This law involves then the statement that any disturbance, great or small, has its effect, great or small, upon the entire system. A new adjustment is required throughout the whole extent of suns and systems, and we do not enquire how this can be. We do not know how. We do believe the fact. This is not theory or speculation or metaphysics. It is admitted physical fact. Men of science call it demonstrated truth and are all agreed upon it. Move here, upon this earth, so much as an atom of dust and you introduce a disturbance which extends to the stars of heaven. To change the universe in one of its parts is to change it throughout its whole extent. It is not as it was before. This is my first postulate taken from physical science. My next postulate I take from moral science. It is that the will of man is free. Do not fear that I shall ask you here to wander off into metaphysical speculation. I do not propose to explain this postulate any more than the first, nor is it any more necessary or essential to show how or why this can be. The point is, whether you are prepared to accept this postulate on the same ground as the first, because it explains, not because it can be explained. When we solve the mystery of gravitation it will be in order to reconcile fixed fate, free will, fore-know- ledge absolute and other questions of the kind. Without becoming then in wandering mazes lost, I ask acceptance for this postulate also, as an ultimate fact, on the same grounds as the first, because it is in harmony with the rest of our know- ledge. It is the deliverance of our consciousness, as the first is the voice of our experience. It is the basis of all our ethics, the foundation of justice between man and man. Without free- doni of will there is no moral responsibility, the very bond of society, the substance of all human law. As such we act upon it in daily life just as confidently as we count upon gravitation. 10 Science and iViiracle. [July, Jadged by this test we all believe this postulate. That our will may be restricted in action need not canse us donbt. Snch freedom as we claim is not absence of compulsion bnt freedom of consent. Not the will but the willingness, is the basis of re- sponsibility. Let the man who disowns moral responsibility, object to onr postulate. Bnt in that case he must consider himself an antomaton wound up to go, the unconscious puppet of circumstance, a helpless waif on the wave of destiny, He must pull down about his ears the whole fabric of human society and human laws, which has been built up on this foundation, and go counter to the consciousness born into every man. If he chooses to do this, he can deny our postulate, but he will have meagre company if the belief of mankind can be judged by its action. Through free will we recognize ourselves as personalities, and no considerations can weaken this consciousness of individuality we all possess. Only as we have this consciousness ourselves can we realize the existence of other personalities outside of ourselves, frame laws for their guidance and control, or hold them to obligation and responsibility. Only as we have this consciousness, can we realize the existence of a personality greater than that of man, which can impose laws for his guid- ance and control, and hold mankind to obligation and responsi- bility. As in our first postulate we have involved the ideas of uni- versality of law and uniformity of nature, so in this second postulate we find involved moral obligation and responsibility. We do not explain the second any more than the first. We accept both upon the same grounds, as the practical results of human experience and human consciousness. My third and last postulate I take from physiology. It is that every volition is invariably accompanied by correspond- ing brain action. That is, within my organism, matter obeys the dictates of my will. Subject to restriction such action may be. Much goes on within my organism as well as in the ex- terior world, which is not subject to my will. But none the less, within those restrictions, whatever they may be, or may be found to be, my will plays a part, and within those restrictions 1889.] & ience and JJfiracle. 11 matter is obedient to my will. iNow by our first postulate, to affect the condition of even one atom or molecule is to exert an influence which must affect the entire universe. If a single atom is under any circumstances subject to my will, then to just that extent my will is a force in nature. A force is that which causes ~ motion or change of motion or state of matter, and such a force the will of man undoubtedly is, according to physiology. I do not merely mean that the intelligent action of man upon this earth, as exemplified in art and industry, and his indirect influence upon nature by the skillful utilization of natures laws, show the action of will as a force in nature, though that is also true enough. I mean more than that. I mean that directly, without any intermediate mechanism so far as we can see, matter within certain limits is affected by mans will. Acts as it would not otherwise act, moves as it would not other- wise move, and just in so far as this is true, and just in so far as no action can take place which does not affect the whole uni- verse, just in so far is mans will a force of nature. He creates no energy, destroys no energy. The great law of conservation is unaffected. But in the myriad correlations of physical forces, the mind of man has its share. What that share is, and whether the physicist needs to take it into account, is a matter to be settled by actual investigation and not to be decided on any ayriori grounds. Within our organism then, we recognize certain actions which we call voluntary. In the last analysis those actions are traced to brain disturbances or brain action. These distur- bances occur at the command of will, and no one has ever traced the remotest connection between the will and these ma- terial effects. This is the insoluble problem. In its last analysis it would seem to be action at a distance. We simply recognize the fact, because it is a fact, but we can no more explain it than we can explain our other two postulates. If at my simple command, in obedience to my will, the in- animate furniture of this room should move and arrange itself in new positions, withc~ut any imaginable connection or mechan- ism by means of which I could exert the necessary force; if I could as clearly as this,establish the marvellous fact that without any intervening mechanism, bodies at my volition only, in obedi 12 Science and llKfiracle. [July, ence to my will, move hither and thitherwhat a startling state of things that would be thought to be! What a subject for wonder and speculation! How interested all the scientific men would be i}i investigating the conditions under which such wondrous power was exerted! How convinced they would be, that how- ever wonderful, however unheard oF, it was, if genuine, strictly natural, and though rare, or even unique, strictly the outcome of antecedent conditions, and therefore in perfect accord with uniformity. These conditions would interest them. To test these conditions they would test and experiment, and should they connect successfully these conditions and the result with other observed conditions and their results, they would claim a full explanation, give the phenomenon an appropriate name in Greek or Latin, record it in their annals, and a new force with a new name, perhaps psychic force, would be given to the scientific world. Now this imaginary case is not more marvellous than the actual case, which is strictly comparable. True, it is, that such action of my will upon bodies outside of my organism is, so far as I am aware, unknown. But within my organism, just such action is admitted as constantly taking place. Every voluntary action is traced directly back to some brain disturbance, and back of that we can discern nothing but the controlling will. Nor does the fact that such action of our will is limited to our physical organism, diminish the difficulty. Still, in the last an- alysis, all mechanism falls away, and we have here as in every branch of physical science, apparent action at a distance, but in this case, such action is seen to be dependent upon will. Moreover, though the operation of the will may be and is limited in scope, the effect of such operation no man can set limits to. A single thought literally changes the universe! It is not as it was before. This is the direct consequence of ad- mitted facts, without admixture of speculation or hypothesis. This vast universe is bound in to onesystem by a law of reci- procity, such that the minutest disturbance in any of its parts is felt throughout the whole extent. One portiou of this universe we know to be the abode of conscious volition. That voli- tion affects matter, causes it to move as it would not otherwise move. The action of that volition, therefore, must and does affect the whole. 1889.] Science and ifiracle. 13 We thus see that the very constitution of the universe is ad- mitted, on the strength of unquestioned facts, to be such that throughout its whole extent it is affected by mind. If an in- telligent being with faculties akin to ours, though far greater in degree, were placed upon the farthest fixed star that glit- ters in the sky, he might very possibly observe there material effects, which if followed back along the chain of cansation, would finally find their rise in some human volition upon this earth. Such is the constitution of the universe as science, basing itself upon uniformity, is forced to apprehend it. And it is in such a universe as this, that this same science declares miracle, or the direct action of mind upon matter, to be impossible, be- cause contrary to uniformity! What wonder then, that we find anarchy and discord! Authority arrayed against experience, faith opposed to reason, law contradicting liberty! Surely there must be here an unnecessary issue! All three of these postulates are firmly held, and each is an admitted fact in a separate branch of science. Each and all alike cannot be explained. Indeed, we can explain~~ nothing, except in so far as we connect it with observed sequence. We ask of nature perpetually, how, what, why, and science has no reply, except such is the order of nature. Events occur in a certain sequence, and changes conform to a certain ascer- tainable order, and that is all. Each of these postulates is claimed by science, in its own domain, as ultimate. That which is ultimate cannot be explained or brought into accord with the rest of our knowledge. Each rests its claim upon the results of its acceptance, upon its power of harmonizing, of bringing other facts into order and sequencein short, upon its power of explaining, and not upon its capability of being explained. But it must be evident that we cannot have two or three ulti- mates. One such we may have. Indeed, one such we must have. Uniformity itself demands it. For without one such ultimate, all branches of science separate and refuse to fall into related order. But more than one, is a breach of the very uni- formity we assume. Yet science claims all three, and since it 14 Science and JiIiraele. [July, cannot explain them, has to accept all three as ultimate. What wonder, then, that we find discord? Are we then to have three ultimates? Uniformity forbids. Are we to have but one? Which shall we give up? If all three are true, they must be capable of being comprised in one general statement in accord with uniformity, which shall hold all three in solution, and explain all three by bringing them into accord with other facts and with each other, and which itself is the single ultimate beyond which we need not go. Such a statement it seems to me, comes out as the irresisti- ble result of directly combining the three. It fully solves the difficulty about miracle as a merely incidental application, while it goes much farther in its scope. Assuming, says John Stuart Mill, as a fact the existence and providence of God, the whole of our observation of na- ture proves to us by incontrovertible evidence that the rule of his government is by means of second causes; that all facts, or at least all physical facts, follow uniformly upon given physi- cal conditions, and never occur but when the appropriate col- lection of physical conditions is realized. I limit the assertion to physical facts, in order to leave the case of human volition an open question; though, indeed, I need not do so, for if the human will is free, it has been left free by the Creator, and is not controlled by him, either through second causes or directly, so that not being governed, it is not a specimen of his mode of government When either a man of science for scien- tific, or a man of the world for practical purposes inquires into an event, he asks himself what is its cause? and not, has it any natural cause? A man would be laughed at who set down as one of the alternative suppositions that there is no other cause for it than the will of God. Now, at the risk of being laughed at by the followers of Mill and the evidence-loving brethren of Prof. Huxley, I wish to make precisely this supposition as the only alternative the facts allow, as strictly in harmony with the rest of our knowledge, as harmonizing that knowledge, and therefore as a scientific conclusion. Since in the light of our three postulates we must recognize the universe as so constituted that will affects every part, and since 1889.] & ience and iWiracle. 15 we recognize a part of the effects we perceive as undoubtedly due to mans will, it follows irresistibly that all other effects must be by us attributed to the action of will also. This is the only hypothesis in terms of the rest of our knowledge and in accord with our own experience which we can frame. It is the plain logical inference from the facts, and is to be tested as an ultimate, simply by its capacity of explaining and har- monizing, not by our ability to explain it. We cannot hope to explain it any more than we can explain our three postulates, which we nevertheless accept. We accept them because they harmonize our knowledge of certain facts, and so we must accept this if it harmonizes them, and thus instead of three ultimates gives us but one. Our hypothesis leads directly to the general statement that what science calls law is bnt the action of a supreme will, of which nature is the visible expression, and what science calls uniformity is but the re- cognized mode of action of that will. From this point of view we change not a single fact but only the interpretation of the factsnot science but the phil- osophy of science. Our belief in uniformity or second causes, simply asserts that in whatever way in the past we may have found this will to act, given again precisely the same circumstances, we may expect again the same action. What can this mean in terms of will, in terms of our own knowledge and consciousness, but the expression of an un- changed purpose? Thus uniformity we see is not itself an ultimate fact, but a necessary corollary. The action of mans will upon matter is thus not itself an ultimate fact, but a necessary result of delegated power. Our consciousness of freedom is not itself an ultimate fact, but is justified by the source of that power. It partakes in kind of that to which it owes existence. Thus all three of our postulates are merged into one expression, which harmonizes and explains them, because it gives them significance and mutual relation in accord with the rest of our knowledge. Uniformity of action, freedom, power of causation, are the attributes of this su- preme will, as in a less degree they are attributes of our own. Hence we observe the first and to some extent share the last. 16 Science and Jttiracle. [July, This is no pantheistic conception of some unconscious per- vading energy in the universe. It is an intelligent conscious individuality with a steadfast purpose which the facts demand. But this conclusion is by no means necessarily dependent upon our second postulate. It is the direct result of the first and last only. Thus whether mans will be free or not, does not affect this conclusion. It is sufficient to recognize will as a force in the universe. If this be true of mans will, how- ever limited and conditioned, we must inevitably attribute to the influence of a will, not mans, all action which is indepen- dent of mans will. As to the mode of action of this will, as we observe it, uniformity requires simply that having been observed once to act, if the same circumstances were to recur, its action would be the same. This is the principle upon which science is based, and from our point of view it possesses significance only as the indication of steadfast purpose com- bined with perfect knowledge. Now let us examine this principle of uniformity in the light of our second postulate.. If we are agreed to consider these postulates as true, we must accept whatever is involved in them. The principle of uniformity briefly amounts to saying, dupli- cate the circumstances and you can always expect an identical result. Now, taking a wide view of the universe, and regarding it as a vast complex in which any disturbance, however slight, produces its due effect throughout the whole extent, can we ever find or expect to find at any two intervals of time strictly identical circumstances? Have any two states of this universe ever been exactly alike? So far as the supreme and steadfast will which we recognize as the ultimate cause of all action, deals with material forces and inanimate matter, and is visible to us in terms of matter and motion only, this may or may not be true. We can decide nothing about it on a priori grounds. When we go to experi- ence for a reply, we appear to find reasons for believing that practically at least, such is the case. As this globe spins through space, day and night, summer and winter, seed time and harvest, succeed each other with unvarying regularity. 1889.] Science and ililiracle. 17 We enter the laboratory and so far as we duplicate conditions do we expect and obtain identical results. We observe certain results, under certain conditions, and taking proper account of those conditions we predict and verify the results when in any respect those conditions are changed. We find identical results to be always joined to identical antecedents. We therefore infer uniformity, and we do well. If now mans will is but a creature of circumstance also, andfree agency is a delusion, and the deliverances of our con- sciousness worthless; if man himself is utterly bound up in the conditions he exploresthen the same inference still holds equally good. The world becomes a mechanism in which not even an apparent break of uniformity is possible because no change from within of antecedent conditions is to be appre- hended. But this supposition is directly counter to our second postulate, it is repugnant to consciousness and destroys the foundations of human society. If then, we believe, as we show by our daily conduct we do believe, that mans will is a free agent, and if as we have to admit, mans will is also a force in nature, and if as we a~o have to admit, the action of any force affects the entire universe; then we must recognize a source of change within the mechanism, which must affect antecedent conditions, in so far as it is itself one of these antecedents. It is thus certain that so far as mans will is operative, and free, it is strictly true that no two states of the universe ever have been or will be precisely alike in all respects, so long as a single free human agency exists. If we find as physical experiment indicates, that certain practical limits must be set to the action of such agency, since within these limits we certainly do not find it necessary to take such agency into account, we can bow to that experience and accept the existence of such limits. But when the physicist ignores any limits and founds uniformity upon an hypothesis of identical antecedents which do not really exist, we object, not to uniformity, but to the hypothesis. Within those limits we may grant his hypothesis as a practical approx- imation, as a good working hypothesis. Beyond those limits we must still insist upon the more strictly accurate statement, that no two states are ever identical, and hence uniformity is VOL. XV. 2 18 Science and 11/liracle. [July, not to be based upon exact duplication. In either case, in both cases alike, we insist upon that supreme and steadfast purpose, ever acting in precise accord with the circumstances at any and every instant, of which the physicists idea of uniformity is but the inevitable consequence, and which gives to uniformity itself its true significance. Let us once regard uniformity, not as that action which under all circumstances is always the same, but that action, which in the light of unchanging purpose is always in accord with changing conditions, and all con~tlict vanishes. So far as conditions are the same, that action is the same. Here is the realm of experimental investigation, and even within the limits imposed, experience shows that it is an ample realm. But it is not the whole realm. The wider expression, is not constant action, under invariable conditions, but related action under constant purpose and varying con- ditions. This view seems to me to commend itself as harmonizing all our knowledge, our experience and our consciousness, and the vexed question of miracles is but a special application. I know no scientific objection to miracles which on this basis cannot be as scientifically met. It places miracles upon precisely the same ground as science to-day, based as it is upon uniformity, places the origin of life. The weight of experiment according to Huxley and Tyndall, is against spontaneous generation in our day. But science, if I correctly understand the position, does not therefore infer that it never took place. On the contrary it believes that it did, but it admits that thus far at least we have been unable to duplicate the conditions, and hence have never observed the result. If life~ says Prof. Le Conte, did once arise spontaneously from any lower forces, physical or chemical, by natural process, the conditions necessary for so extraordinary a change could hardly be expected to occur but once in the history of the earth. This is a man of science, not of pseudo-science, Prof. Huxley to the contrary notwithstanding, who thus speaks of lowerforces, extraordinary changes, and changed condi- tions. It only needs the recognition of purpose back of the changed conditions, to constitute this view an admission by science of miraculous action in the truest sense. Upon the 1889.] Science and Aliracle. 19 simple admission of purpose, the question hinges. It is a ques- tion not of facts but of point of view. It is precisely this view which I would apply to miracle, only having the wholesome fear of Prof. Huxley before my eyes and not wishing to be classed among those who have appro- priated the forms of science without knowing anything of its substance, I would not speak of lower or higher forces, since to me the origin of all is the same; nor of extraor- dinary changes, since any action is in my view no more extraordinary than any and all others, though it may well be the result of unique antecedents; and I can conceive of no conditions as necessary except as related to divine purpose. In perfect accord with Prof. Huxley, I attribute no agency to laws, and would regard what we call a law of nature as merely a record of human experience, not in any sense an agency itself. But I do most certainly regard it as the expres- sion of some agency which lies back of all law. This agency I find myself obliged to recognize, not upon ecclesiastical authority, nor by ascribing to science a dictum that is not scientific, but upon scientific grounds, in accord with admit- ted facts, as will; and this will these same facts require me to acknowledge as uniform; and uniform will, acting always the same under similar circumstances, I can only interpret as stead- fast purpose. I might even ask whetherif this conclusion seems sound and justified by facts, and steadfast purpose is thus the very substance of all lawthose who hold the facte but deny the conclusion, may not themselves be denominated as having appropriated the forms of science without knowing anything of its substance? We thus find it recognized by Prof. Le Conte, himself a man of science, in the interests of science, that conditions change, and even that a set of conditions may have existed, which never existed before and may never exist again. When science admits this, it must either deny the action of will and refuse to recognize purpose in the universe, or it must open the door for miracle. What is the result of purpose acting nuder unique conditions but a miracle? Here is no breach of uniformity. The result is just as natural as any result which we observe or as any result which we can reproduce 20 Science and ilfiracle. [July, by fulfilling the conditions. There is here no disorder or con- fusion or breach of uniformity. The sequence of cause and effect is the same. A miracle we may then defineas an effect in nature which, as dependent upon controlling will and due to the action of such will, is as natural in every sense as all other observed actions, which are all likewise similarly dependent; but an effect also, which, in so far as it is the result of unique condi- tions, stands alone amongst other observed effects, and thus emphasizes to us the direct action of that divine agency which underlies all effects. I can find nothing which theology claims For miracle, which this view does not admit, nor anything urged by science with which this view conflicts. The effect observed is in the strictest sense in accord with the conditions, and hence in accord with uniformity, while it reveals directly the agency of that spiritual volition which is at the basis of all natural law. It is directly in line with the purpose which governs the whole. It is in harmony with the rest of our knowledge. Nor do I by this view give any special comfort or aid to the spirit-rappers, table-turners, and all the other devotees of the occult sciences of our day. 1 place all manifestations of will in nature upon the ground of satisfactory evidence or tes- timony. Whatever is proved to have occurred is by that fact established as natural, whether new~~ or old or startling or the reverse. I would explain all on the same groundthat of a steadfast purpose exhibiting itself nuder conditions either new or old. The study of these conditions is always in order and is the work of science, and any reported occurrence which demands for its acceptance an admission of changed or unique conditions, must come to us with credentials which command assent first of all to the fact of the occurrence itself, before it can assume an importance which warrants investigation. Prove first the fact. Each reported occurrence must stand solidly by itself upon a basis of evidence, of experience and testimony, which commands belief. But once accepted as a fact, I would admit no disorder or confusion or breach of uniformity in any- thing so established, but would refer every occurrence without 1889.] Science and Jlitiracle. 21 exception to the same ultimate basis of eternal purpose maJe manifest to ns as uniform action nnder similar conditions. Evidence and experience must be the final test as to the actnality of any occnrrence claimed to have been observed. Every miracle and every admitted fact of science, must all alike, stand on this basis. Those who reject the acconnt of any miracle becanse of insufficient evidence, stand on solid gronnd. I simply insist that tliere can be no other ground. Order of nature, uniformity, nature of things, reasonableness, possibility, all a priori objections have no place in the decis- ion. So far as these are concerned the question is open. Suf- ficient evidence is that which produces conviction in unpreju- diced minds, and I for one would have nothing whatever accepted npon any other gronnds. All who believe, or think they believe, or are willing to believe, or make themselves believe, on any other gronnds, we are perfectly willing to leave to the inex- tiuguishable laughter of Prof. Huxley and his evidence-by- lug brethren. If miracles cannot stand on this basis they cannot stand at all. We claim that they do stand on just this basis. We claim that such a fact as the origin of lifelooked npon as science has to look npon it as the result of unique con- ditions; recognizing as we are obliged to recognize by sound deduction from accepted principles, purpose and will back of those conditionsis itself a miracle. We claim that in this sense and in the deepest and truest sense, mans action in the world is a daily miracle, and that to attribute all action out- side of man to will and purpose is a sound deduction of science. While ready to submit to the inextinguishable laughter therefore, we stipulate in the interests of fair play, that those who in the face of evidence and facts, persist in the attitude of so much the worse for the facts, shall not be exempt from the same inextinguishable laughter. To claim any effect as a new result under old conditions, due to some meddling supernatural agency, is indeed unsound and mischievous. It is not direct action, but rather cessation of ac- tion, which such a result would indicate. Not God in nature, but God withdrawn from nature. Such a claim defeats the very end which makes it. I consider that the entire difficulty arises from such claim; a claim made when our views of Gods 22 Science and llhracle. [July, government were different, when in a narrow anthropomorphic sense, the controlling will was considered as dwelling apart from the great machine, suffering the machanism for long periods to mn itself, and only now and then, actually con- fessing inlirmity of purpose, by intervening for special ends, in view of special circumstances. We admit no such interven- tion. Circumstances in view of mans action at least, we must recognize as always special. Never are any two states the same. Conditions are never identical. At every instant antecedents are different, and at every instant steadfast purpose is at the helm and perfect knowledge guides. Unchanged conditions are precisely what we have no right to premise. Changed conditions are what we have every reason to expect. To infer from an unchanged result unchanged conditions is a sound inference, and by the same logic, a new result established as a fact, proves unmis- takably new conditions. I would then take miracle out of the realm of the supernat- ural, by bringing all things into the realm of the spiritual. I would protest against the position that reducing everything to law thereby separates all things from that which underlies law. That the recognition of an impersonal order is a denial of personality. Nature reveals to us, in every part, action directed by purpose toward the realization of purpose. As the result of mind, mind interprets it and ideals are found to cor- respond with reality. Thus man himself endowed with sensation, consciousness, and emotion, lives in a world where phenomena are related not merely to sensation alone, but to consciousness and emotion also, and where sensation, consciousness, and emotion, correspond to reality. Physical science assumes only the correspondence of sensation with reality. Without such assumption its results are worthless. It is as ilinton expresses it, like a little child learn- ing to use its hands and eyes and ears. It assumes a correspond- ence between external reality and sensation and interprets the world through sense perception alone. But the world is larger than this. We have other faculties and they should also cor- respond with reality. We have not on]y intellect but moral and spiritual insight. The world is to be comprehended only by 1889.] Science and illiracle. 23 mans whole nature, since this whole nature must be related to the world. What sensation is to the intellect, emotion is to the soul. Both must be brought into mutual relation, correspond- ence and harmony. Our single postulate of steadfast purpose does this. Based upon this postulate all science becomes mans view of Gods action, the verification by man of divine ideals. The physicists idea of uniformity is thus as ideal as his conception of a geo- metric straight line. iNeither is strictly realized in external nature. No physical line is absolutely straight, no antecedent conditions are strictly identical. Yet the ideal limits logically treated yield results in accord with reality. As two lines may be so nearly parallel that observation within practical limits can detect no deviation, so antecedents may be so nearly identi- cal that observation detects no result of variation. Yet in both the assumption of identity is an ideal limit, not a physical fact. These ideals we verify, because with Kepler, we think the thoughts of God, and interpret His action in terms of mind and not of matter. This action whether exemplified in miracle or in daily life, we thus find related to conditions in the light of unchanging purpose, and hence it appears to us as uniform action when the conditions are practically identical and as miracle when they are not. Science traces back the conditions a little way, learns to identify them more or less perfectly, and in so far, to predict more or less perfectly the results. But whether we thus go back a little way or a long way, or not at all, in every case we arrive sooner or later at the ultimate, and inexplicable because ultimate basis of all action, and that basis we find the very basis of value in science itself, bequeathed by custom and in- heritance, the ground-work of morals and practice, suggested irresistibly by the analogy of our experience, confirmed by our knowledge and sanctioned by our consciousness. While we thus admit uniformity in its fullest extent, we are forced to interpret it in terms of the rest of our knowledge, as the result of unchanging purpose acting in accordance with full and perfect knowledge of antecedent conditions. Among those conditions the will of man has a part. To what extent no one can say. How large or small a part, and 24 & ience and illiracle. [July, under what limitations oniy experience can decide. What other conditions there may be, we cannot know, but here is at least one, dependent, as we are obliged to admit, upon our own volition, by reason of which the universe is momently affected, and which must therefore itself be included among the condi- tions. To deny to it any influence, and assert that the operations of nature rest upon conditions in which the will of man can have no possible share, and upon which the will of man can make no impress, is contrary to those admitted facts which we have claimed as postulates. The nature of things, as we are forced to recognize them, is quite otherwise. In a universe governed by will, the will of man may count for much. In so far as it is itself among the antecedents, it must affect conditions, and the action of the supreme will can only be predicated in view of all the antecedents. In so far as it can thus act to bring about conditions hitherto unknown, just so far may we expect the re- sults to be unique. Mans volition is itself part of the condi- tions, and this volition we believe and hold to be free. It seems therefore, not a mere superstitious credence, but sound scientific inference, that mans volition may and probably does effect much, and that science must admit as at least reason- able, that which faith accepts without question, that Prayer moves the Hand which moves the world. How far and to what extent this is true, is I submit a ques- tion of experience. That experience seems to indicate that the effect of human volition can be practically disregarded in the realm at least of physical science. We may be thus justified in concluding that at least in general, the conditions which are antecedent to any purely physical effect are not affected by mans volition, simply because in so many instances we find this to be apparently the fact. Experience is the only criterion. But we can none the less still hold that the recognized consti- tution of the universe admits the possibility of such action, and we can never deny this on any a priori grounds. Thus any well authenticated exception, if it is satisfactorily estab- lished as a fact, must be admitted as a fact, in entire accord with what we know and have a right to expect, not as an un- natural or extra-natural effect or as a necessary breach of uni formity. It is simply a question of evidence. 1889.] Science and Jilliracle. 25 The prayer is itself a new fact. It and the mind which frames it are new conditions. It is mind directly acting upon mind. The ruled appealing to the ruler. The all-embracing knowledge which encompasses nature cannot ignore it. The scientific man cannot deny on scientific grounds the possible efficacy of human supplication. He can only test it as a fact by repeating the conditions, and the only way I know of to thus scientifically test the efficacy of such a fact as prayer and to find out just what is that efficacy, isto prayand to pray not under arbitrarily imposed conditions but under those conditions for which alone any efficacy is claimed. It would seem that this is a test which is practically ignored by science. Man thus appears as himself a factor in his own develop- ment. His will is not only an influence working through heredity for the building up of character, but it is a power in the universe, conditioning circumstance. The science which lays down the proposition that like causes always produce like effects, must take account among these causes, of mans agency and volition. In this view, without contradiction or inconsis- tency, it may well be recognized even by science as more than a poetic expression of universal faith, that More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Well then may the voice of man rise like a fountain night and day For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If knowing God, they lift not hands in prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round world is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. The direct consequence then, of admitted fact, is that mind rules the universe, mind interprets the universe, and mind as manifested in man, affects the universe. Uniformity as claimed by science, we thus interpret as steadfast purpose acting always in accord with circumstances or conditions. We recognize man as so related to this universe that he himself affects these conditions. In so far as he thus affects circumstances, he is himself one of the determining conditions of the action he ob 26 Science and Jlliracle. [July, serves. For him, and for him alone so far as we can see, every moment may well bring its unique conditions and its special action, and we must consider the eternal purpose so far as mani- fested to ns as especially related to man. So far as we can see law has no necessity apart from such relation. It is in re- lation to man if anywhere, that we may hope to discover this purpose. So far as law in this universe is the expression of any purpose outside of him and his relations to it, he can never hope to find it oat. Only as he himself supplies conditions which he can recognize, can he hope to find a clew. As he possesses the power of affecting conditions, that which he calls law, or the manifestation of divine purpose, must possess for him a peculiar significance. This purpose must include him, exist in relation to him, and to him the reign of law is adapted. For him the earth revolves and the stars of heaven shine. The miii~ister and interpreter of nature, he himself affects nature, shares to some extent the divine power of causa- tion in nature, and is a force from within to which the divine purpose must respond. What is this purpose? It must be revealed to some extent, at least, by its manifestations. Possessed of reason ourselves, we study these manifestations in the light of reason and inter- pret them always in terms of reason. As mind lies back of all phenomena, so mind is in accord with phenomena, and ideals are found to accord with fact. Thus science itself becomes the recognition by mind of the action of mind. This purpose must therefore be rational. Our steadfast purpose is then guided by complete knowledge and perfect reason. These qualities in less degree we possess. It is again the ideal limit to which we pass. We follow step by step the manifestations of this purpose in nature. Beginning with inorganic matter we follow the unfolding of this purpose, and reach a point where in accord with the antecedent conditions and the ever-present guiding will life appears. Here is no breach of uniformity. To repro- duce those conditions would be to again observe the same action. This holds for every manifestation. We follow still further along the history of the earth and again, in accord with antecedent conditions, mind emerges. This is not an evolution 1889.] Science and Miracle. 27 of matter into mind. We start with mind and we end with mind. We begin with a will to which matter responds, with knowledge and purpose; and we end with ~yill, to which matter responds, knowledge and pnrpose,less in degree bnt similar in kind to the source. Is this all? Have not the emotions as well as th& intellect a similar relation, and must not mans entire nature be considered as similar in kind? As no life without antecedent life, so no mind without antecedent mind, no love without antecedent love. What word has science for us here? The conclusion of the scientific ethics of the day has been stated as altruism. Taking the world as we find it, starting from a basis of pure selfishness, in a ravenous struggle for ex- istence in which the weaker must succumb to superior force we are told by the interpreters of science, strangely enough, that in this wild race of each man for himself, if we would act wisely, in view of the conditions in which we are placed, we must oppose ourselves to the current, we must put the general good first and subordinate private aims, we must protect and care for the weaker and subdue personal desires, we must prac- tice action which looks beyond the present moment, we must deny ourselves in the present for the sake of a future good to unborn generations. We must, in short, sway the force of heredity itself by the exercise of will, into the path of pro- gress. This is pure morality and to spare! For you will observe there isnt even the shadow of a personal motive to thus oppose personal desire, no sufficient inducement to thus practice all the virtues and eschew all the vices. Human na- ture is required to tread a path impossible to human nature. We must practice the golden rule, without any stronger induce- ment than that this appears on the whole, looking over the world as we find it, to be the conduct which persevered in, will lead eventually to the greatest happiness of the greatest num- ber. A barren morality this and an empty ethics, which mocks poor humanity with its very weakness, and pointing out th6 path winding far away over inaccessible heights, leaves him lost in despair and cursing his inability to reach it. An ethics which a Mephistopheles might well expound with satanic glee, 28 Science and Miracle. [July, as while pointing out the impossible path and hopeless summit, he mocks the fainting breath and bleeding feet and failing limbs which forbid accomplishment. To know the right and do it not, will not suffice. We must see the right and yearn to do it, and lack even the capacity to strive. For as self is the heaviest burden weighing us down, the burden of self must be self-lifted. How shall this be done? But yet taking the meagre portion at this Barmecide feast to which science invites us, our view gives it a substantial and satisfying significance. Connecting the universe with purpose, as uniformity itself forces us to, we see that even science, based upon uniformity, looking as far forward as it can in the light of uniformity, notifies us that our manifest action in order to be in accord with that purpose, must be self-denying, self-sacri- ficing, self-forgettinga summation in short of all the virtues, for the sole object of beneficence. From the battle of self, for self, must come self-renunciation. From selfish struggle must come loving help. The purpose which rules the world and starts us in the mire of selfish appetite, requires us to rise to the pure heights of loving sacrifice. Is this the scheme of a Mephistopheles to mock us? Giving us a mirage of pleasant meadows and refreshing streams, only to revel in the anguish of the thirsty way-worn souls who gaze and fall by the way in helpless despair. God forbid! This purpose which sets such a task to poor human nature, mustbe itself beneficent. So sure as this purpose exists and demands of us such action, so sure is there a way that faithful feet may tread. If flight is required of us, wings must be given. Such a revelation as we must have, we may expect to find. If science cannot read it in the Book of Nature, elsewhere it must be given. Knowledge of such basic importance, man cannot wait to slowly and painfully discover, He needs it now for guidance and help. Above all, he needs a sufficient motive, else is the discovery when made of no avail. Without such a motive heredity would but ever push us backward, not onward. Such a revelation of purpose and will we claim to have, not through science, but in advance of science, and we find it just such a revelation as science needs, to give point and practical value to its own conclusions, while these very conclusions them- 1889.] Science and JiLiracle. 29 selves endorse the revelation. That pnrpose and motive it re- veals as Love! the only sufficient antidote to selfish desire, the God-given wings tQ every mortal by which man, freed through self from the burden of self, can rise even to those heights which science itself would have him reach. Thus, mans emotional nature must bear an equal part with his intellectual nature in his progress, and both must bear the same relation to the source of all. Thus religion appears as the complement of all that science tells us, the one connecting our mind, the other our nature with the eternal source of both; supplying that motive and revealing that purpose, without which the results of science lose significance, the ethics of science become but barren platitudes, and the golden~~ rule, a rule of lead and iron. The divine breath of love sweeps through creation and man wakes to life and loving service. Himself the end of creation, he must imbibe its spirit and co6perate in loving service to carry it on. Thus inspiration in the moral world corresponds to miracle in the physical. Both are the direct action of the supreme will in accord with eternal purpose under unique conditions. But in both alike may we not claim, that only in so far as the conditions are unique, is this action any different from those ordinary phenomena of daily life which we see fit to distinguish as natural, only be- cause we find the conditions recurrent at intervals, or capable of duplication by us? The great central miracle of Christianity would lose all force and point, if it must be regarded as a breach of uni- formity or an infringement of law. Let us once recognize what we thus call a breach~ or infringement, simply be- cause the result is unique, ~s the result of action which ever and exactly accords with conditions in the light of unchanging purpose, and we see at once that such expressions as breach and infringement must either mean change of purpose or they mean nothing. As meaning change of purpose they can- not be allowed. lit is just because we do not recognize in this great central miracle any such change of purpose, that it pos- sesses for us full value and significance. Only in so far as it is in accord with the whole purpose, that it means to us what it should. This it is which gives it inestimable worth. It is not 30 Science and Jiliiracle. [July, that a divine being, different in nature from man, has not been subject to death, but that man as man has risen from the grave. Fulfill the conditions and we do expect the same result. It is thus through our humanity that the resurrection is to us the promise and the hope of immortality. And this hope we base not upon miracle as a breach of law, but upon the naturalness of all that happens in a universe where unchanging purpose is the basis of law and 1~he guarantee of uniformity. Only as uniformity is the explanation can uniformity be the basis of hope. Because I live ye shall live also. Thus Christ, we claim, came as every man comeththat is, iu Gods own time, for Gods own purposewith a nature in accord with the conditions of His appearance. As those condi- tions are unique, so is His appearance and nature. This con- stitutes at once His divinity and His humanity. It singles Him out but does not separate Him. Divine in rns individuality as the special manifestation of purpose under unique conditions, He is even as all men are in relation to that purpose. This we claim as in accord with science and substantiated by evidence. The evidence-loving brethren who reject this claim on the score of insufficient testimony, may do so honestly, but I venture to say they will also do it mournfully, and will find in the rejection small cause for inextinguishable laughter. Let Mephistopheles laugh, but as for us poor mortals,Look you! well go pray! This man thus appearing as the unique result of unique con- ditions, as a special manifestation of divine purpose, yet related as all men to that purpose, should have for us a unique mes- sage. If He has nothing to tell us we could not have otherwise known, the special necessity which sent Him is not justified. If thus singled out by divine purpose, the result should justify that purpose. By this test let us judge. We have seen how far science takes us and where science leaves us. It takes us to the foot of the hill of difficulty and there we stand helpless. Through self we must overcome self and no sufficient motive is given. Here science is silent. If this universe is the result of purpose, mans relation to that purpose is a problem upon which science has nothing to say. It ma recognize a purpose, it may even admit that purpose as 1889.1 & ierwe and iliracle. 31 beneficent, since it enforces upon us beneficent action, but there it halts. Now what are the facts? This man thns appearing in accord with special pnrpose under unique conditions, speaks with authority as never man spoke, as one fulfilling that purpose. He proves his divine credentials by the exercise of divine power. His will sways nature even as the divine will, because in accord with the divine purpose. His relation to that will is the same as ours. And this man thus speaking with divine commission, reveal- ing to us our relations to divine will and power, coming as man in accord with that purpose, related as man to that purpose, has made known those relations, and that will and purpose so far as through human symbols of thought they can be revealed and communicated, in the simple words, Our Father!~ and Thy will be done! Here is the pith and essence of religion. Simple but all suf- ficient, and precisely where science leaves us destitute the void is filled. The relation is of love, the conditions loving obedience and co-operation. Here is no cold impersonal statement of pol- icy. No system of ethics on the basis of the greatest good to the greatest number. It is in full harmony with both because based upon that which lies back of both. It gathers up the highest impelling forces of mans nature to aid him up the inaccessible heights to which science can only point. It puts action on a higher and practical plane and it supplies the motive without which action on that plane is impossible. It is not, honesty is the best policy. Or conform to inexor- able law or die. Or be virtuous and be happy. Or keep the peace, be pure, be merciful, regard your neighbors rights, prac- tice altruism, because however hard or impossible to do, this is decidedly the best course for all in the long run. But it is love, because love is the fulfillment of the lawof the great pur- pose which rules the universe. Be honest, live at peace, be merciful, be pure at heart, because this is to live in accord with the beneficent will of the Father whose children we are. I do not ask has science any word to say which conflicts with this~ for all it can say and as far as it can see, all is in complete harmony with this. But I do ask has science now in this nine.. 32 Science and Miracle. [July, teenth century anything to say which can replace this? Can we even attempt to practically tread the path which science claims to trace without this? If not, how is it and why is it that we have all this now and have had it ages in advance of science? Who among men so wise as to tell us this, in such manner as to harmonize all that we know, and yet add the one thing neediul, the only thing science can never certainly discover,the rela- tion of man to a heavenly Father and the duty not of obedience merely but of loving obedience? Who so wise to tell us this, and by life, and acts and words and death, draw us by the irresistible might of love into this relation, re-enforcing the intellect by the emotions, harmonizing consciousness and experi- ence, and crown all with the glorious triumphant proof to all mankind of that for which every human soul yearnsthe hope of immortality! Is it not manifest that God reigns and his kingdom is here and now! AuGusTus JAY DuBois. 1889.] Iliturillo. 33 ARTICLE 11.MURILLO. FIFTEEN years after Wellington drove the French out of the Peninsula and opened the country to Englishmen, David Wil- kie went to Spain and found a new world of art, which, though it greatly fascinated him, he did not seem to be able to comprehend. Its richness, color, depth, boldness, fairly be- wildered him. Since that time, more sympathetic artists, with something of the native fire of the Spaniards themselves, such as Henri IRegnault, Clairin, Bonnat, and the brilliant painter, Fortuny, who, thongh a Spaniard by birth, was educated in Rome and Paris, have lived in Spain, and, under its own skies have studied its art in the old churches, the old houses, the museums, and, above all, the Madrid gallery, into which the treasures of Spanish painting have gravitated, and which, with the exception of two or three masterpieces at Rome and Dres- den, is the finest gallery in the world. They have experienced the inspiration of this art; and now the power of Spanish painting in nature and color is recognized, and is exercising a decided influence on European art. It falls in with the new realistic school of French painting. Students go to Spain as they go to Italy. They revel in its light, color, the grandeur of its mountain scenery, its semi-African vegetation, its bull- fights and motley festas, and find this tropical nature and passion reflected in its art. But this was not so always. The exclusiveness of Spanish civilization, the ignorance and super- stition of the people, the geographic isolation of the Peninsula and the difficulties of travel, have made Spain almost as closed a country as Persia, and, for that reason, its painting has not been well known. It has been almost despised, especially in England, as one may see in allusions to Spanish art in the letters of a man of culture, like Abraham Hayward. Writers even upon Spanish subjects have passed it by. Washington Irving dis- coursed charmingly of Spanish history and legend, but had no eye for Spanish pictures; and yet painting is the form in which Spanish genins shows itself. This race has manifested more voL. xv. 8

1889.] Iliturillo. 33 ARTICLE 11.MURILLO. FIFTEEN years after Wellington drove the French out of the Peninsula and opened the country to Englishmen, David Wil- kie went to Spain and found a new world of art, which, though it greatly fascinated him, he did not seem to be able to comprehend. Its richness, color, depth, boldness, fairly be- wildered him. Since that time, more sympathetic artists, with something of the native fire of the Spaniards themselves, such as Henri IRegnault, Clairin, Bonnat, and the brilliant painter, Fortuny, who, thongh a Spaniard by birth, was educated in Rome and Paris, have lived in Spain, and, under its own skies have studied its art in the old churches, the old houses, the museums, and, above all, the Madrid gallery, into which the treasures of Spanish painting have gravitated, and which, with the exception of two or three masterpieces at Rome and Dres- den, is the finest gallery in the world. They have experienced the inspiration of this art; and now the power of Spanish painting in nature and color is recognized, and is exercising a decided influence on European art. It falls in with the new realistic school of French painting. Students go to Spain as they go to Italy. They revel in its light, color, the grandeur of its mountain scenery, its semi-African vegetation, its bull- fights and motley festas, and find this tropical nature and passion reflected in its art. But this was not so always. The exclusiveness of Spanish civilization, the ignorance and super- stition of the people, the geographic isolation of the Peninsula and the difficulties of travel, have made Spain almost as closed a country as Persia, and, for that reason, its painting has not been well known. It has been almost despised, especially in England, as one may see in allusions to Spanish art in the letters of a man of culture, like Abraham Hayward. Writers even upon Spanish subjects have passed it by. Washington Irving dis- coursed charmingly of Spanish history and legend, but had no eye for Spanish pictures; and yet painting is the form in which Spanish genins shows itself. This race has manifested more voL. xv. 8 34 lYfurillo. [July, decided originality in painting, than the French, resembling the Italians. But this has been conceded only by the force of facts, by the spoliation of their galleries and churches, and by the com- parison of their glowing paintings with the colder productions of other schools. Velasquez, it is true, has been vaguely felt to be a force, because he belongs, like the old Greek, to the school of progress whose principles of nature form a true advance in art and the art of the future; yet even Velasquez, until recently, has not been acknowledged to be the unequalled realistic painter he is. It is, indeed, a singular fact, that this indifference to Spanish painting, should have arisen from the sheer ignorance of those who have never seen it at home. And no one can rightly judge of Spanish painting who has not seen it in Spain. Another reason why Spanish art has been so slow to be appreciated is, that, until the seventeenth century, the age of Zurbaran, IRibera, Velasquez, and Murillo, there was not much in Spanish painting which is really national, although the Span- ish is an artistic race; it was an exotic from Italy and the Netherlands. The frescoes of Toledo cathedral in the style of Giotto were executed by Stamina, a Florentine; and the altar-piece in Seville cathedral of the Descent from the Cross, at whose foot Murillo wished to be buried, was painted by Campana, a Fleming. Spanish art, also, is unattractive and monotonous in subject- matter. It is not transfused by new ideas. It never caught the light of the Renaissance. From the beginning it has been rigidly moulded by the church, and it ran into the black- agony school of the Inquisition whose colors were rubbed in with tire and blood. Painters like the IRibaltas and IRibera deep cued shadows in order to bring out lights of miraculous supernaturalism. In looking at the picture of an old Spanish master you think of a cowled monk standing behind him directing every stroke. Yet there is warm color, bold chiaros- curo, intense feeling. These black pictures, seen in the obscure light of Gothic churches, together with images of the Madonna, crucifixes, skeletons and skulls of saints adorned with flashing jewels, have a wonderful power. There is power in their very place and association. They form part of a majestic ritual, of the harmony which has filled the vaults of these Spanish catho 1889.] lIlurilio. 35 drals for centuries, and the sweet and solemn hymns to the Virgin. They were pictures consecrated to a higher use of aiding the devotion of good Catholics; in their design they were purely religious, having been painted by monks, or by ascetics who had wrought their minds into a state of ecstacy. The religion of this passionate and imaginative Spanish peo- ple expressed itself in art, or art formed a vehicle of worship and a symbol of infinite things, which calmer blooded Protes- tant races can no more understand than they can, without bigotry, deny; if not the highest and most spiritual, it is nevertheless a ladder of the soul; as in iRiberas picture of Jacobs Dream the coarse, dark-browed Spaniard who lies asleep on the earth under a tree, sees the sky open and angels ascending and descending. It might be added that, as sacred and ecclesiastical paint- ings, they have retained their original coloring except as time has dimmed them, and have rarely been meddled with or retouched; and this rigidness of church censorship has likewise exerted a moral influence upon Spanish painting, so that it has, with hardly an exception, preserved, with its somber conven- tionalism, a dignified decorum, and avoided the looseness of Italian painting and the indecency of French. But we turn to an exemplification of all the richest and best qualities of Spanish painting. BARTOLOM~ ESTEBAN MURILLO was born at Seville in 1617 of humbler parentage than that of Velasquez; and poverty, whom his favorite saint Francis had wedded, was his hard but stimulating teacher. His artistic life began in childhood and he was placed under the charge of the painter Juan de Castillo, a distant relative, who taught him to draw correctly. When his master left for Cadiz, he was left, so to speak, to his own resources both for art-education and support. He commenced by making pictures for the feria, or market-fair, to be sold for a song to the people, like looking-glasses, knives, and pottery; the traveler is shown some of these colored sketches that have been kept in the families of the people as heirlooms, He had his subjects at handfruit, flowers, and pans, the women of the market-stalls, and the boys of the streetsand he acquired sup- pleness in hitting off these in a rapid way; but even then his 36 Ailiurillo. [July, favorite themes were saints and madonnas, though, as a general rule, a pintwra de la feria was a name, as now, for the veriest daub. These hasty works served him in good stead, and, especially, when in 1642, seized with a desire to go to Flanders to see Dutch art, in imitation of a student friend, he bought a quantity of canvas, and cutting it into small squares, made sacred pictures of a saleable sort, which were disposed of to traders for religious propagandism in the Americas. By this he raised enough money to get as far as Madrid, and when there went at once to his fellow Sevillian, Velasquez, then at the height of his prosperity as court-painter, who befriended and gave him every opportunity to copy the works of great masters in the already ample collections of Madrid and the Escorial. He made copies with discrimination from Titian and IRibera for color, from Van Dyck for neatness of technique, and from Velasquez for nature and freedom of manner; and so rapid was his progress that his friend would persuade him to go to IRome for further instruction under royal patronage; but he refused to do this, trusting to his genius; and he, at least, grew right out of Spanish soil, and there was no foreign art (as the taunt has been flung at Spanish painting) in him. After remaining three years at Madrid he returned to Seville, and lived there contented and laborious; and there stands his statue in the Plaza del Museo and seems to be the genius of the place, for what were Seville, pearl of Spanish cities, with its cathedral and egregious Doctor, its memories of the Moor and his conqueror St. Ferdinand, its orange-gardens, golden tower and silvery Guadalquivir, without the gentle Murillo. Murillos first leap into fame was his enthusiastic offering of gratuitous service to the Franciscans to adorn their convent, and this he did by the production of some large pictures of scenes from the life of St. Francis and his disciples, in which he struck out from the conventional path and put new life into the treatment of religious, or semi-religious, subjects, producing homely and vigorous paintings of common life transmuted into spiritual, as in the kitchen-scene where angels are cooking the sleeping saints dinner; and in Rebecca and Eliezer at the Well. These were in his first style. The three styles we hear so much of, and that, unlike the three styles of 1889.] iIfurillo. 37 Velasquez, were not those of epochs of life, but employed alternately to suit his purpose best, were the frio (cold), with clear outline and treatment of light and shadow resembling Zurbarans severe style; the ealido (warm) with richer and mellower colors; the vaporo~o (misty) with the outline lost in light and shadow as in rounded forms of nature. Besides these convent and altar pieces he painted others of genre, though the themes were, for the most part, religious. Such was the pic- ture now in the Prado, of the Holy Family with the Bird (Del Parajito) in the second manner. It shows a carpenters workshop. Mary is spinning while Joseph rests from his work to watch the child Jesus, who stands between Josephs knees holding a white bird in his hands and plays with a little dog. Though the faces are of a peasant type they are innocent and holy, there is a realistic charm in them far exceeding the awk- ward picture of the Holy Family, by Millais, and other Pre- raphaelite pictures of the same theme. In this early part of his career, probably, most of his delightful beggar-boys, the best of them in the Hermitage, at St. Petersburg, were painted. His low-class life was not vicious, but it was the life of childhood thoughtless ragamuffins with tremendous appetites and uncer- tainty how it was to be satisfiedrecollections of his own youth when a few coppers and a melon made him happy as a prince. How he must have loved these little beggars! There was a humanity in Murillo, that, as in Cervantes, Shakspeare, and all great men, transcends the local and national, and makes them a part and property of the race. Among his next pro- ductions, when his hand grew firm, the Adoration of the Shepherds was the most beautifulthe rough-clad shepherds, the simple sheep and cattle, the sweet-faced mother, the light proceeding from the body of the infant as in Correggios pict- ure at Dresden and if any representation of this old subject by the greatest master of any school excels this in nature, cor- rect drawing, grand freedom and noble simplicity, I will cease praising Spanish painting. To this transitional realistic style, drawn from the popular life, belongs the interesting picture of the Education of the Virgin, in the Madrid gallery. An earnest little maiden kneels by the side of her mother, her only ornament being a 38 ~Miurillo. [July, white rose in her hair; but this picture, as well as one of Zur- barans of the same theme, was regarded with snspicion by the Spanish Doctors, on the gronnd that the Virgin did not need to be taught anything or to learn Hebrew, being inspired with all knowledge! Abont this period were execnted his Conversion of St. Paul, the light broadly iRembrandtish; the Annuncia- tion ; the Vision of the Virgin to St. Felix before his death ; St. Anthony and the Infant Jesus who is seated on open Bible; Jesus Christ according to St. Francis the Jubilee of the Chapel of Assissi with falling roses; and the great paint- ing of St. Anthony of Padua (1656) now in the Baptistery of Seville Cathedral, a section of which was burglarized and brought to New York, but recovered and returned. This pic- ture, with its limitations of the superstitious and sentimental, repays a visit to Seville, by any one fortunate enough to see it by the light of day. The divine child slides down from the regions above on a path of glory attracted to earth by the love in the saints heart. The upward gaze of devotion in his face; the sweetness of the opening vision of the celestial home of childhood; the magical effects of light varied with softest browns and yellows; the rose-tinged clouds, and the infinite vagueness of the supernatural elementthese caused the artist to be called el pintor del ~ie~o (the painter of heaven). He filled it with happy spirits. He imagined a new order of blessed inhabitants; and if there be such a thing as mirth, I had nearly said fun, in heaven, he has represented it in his cherubs. Out of the mouth of babes praise is ordained. Theirs, though infan- tile, is the wisdom of love. They are like sparkles of heavenly joy. Their lightness and grace, floating on clouds as light as they, never have been approached by any other painter. In the same year, Murillo was commissioned to paint four large pictures for the church of Santa Maria la Blauca, and two of them were intended to illustrate the legend of Our Lady of the Snow. These two are now in the Acadamy of San Fer- nando at Madrid, and upon them one has said he poured out all the treasures of art, all the wonders of the palette. The first of them, The Dream, is in the vaporoso manner, where the senator, a dignified figure, has fallen asleep while reading; his wife also slumbers, and how fast asleep they are; but they 1889.] ilfiurillo. 39 dream of a vision of the Virgin who points to the spot on which the church is to be bniltthe great Liberian basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore, that stands on the Esquiline at Rome, at a spot where snow fell miraculously in the month of August! The appearance of the npper celestial group is sur- ronnded by a radiant light, and heaven comes down into the narrow room. There is the blending of natural with snper- natural, of strongest light with deepest shadow. The second picture is the Fulfilment, representing the meeting with Pope Liberins, who hears their story, while a vision of the procession to the Esqniline is seen in the distance. Secure in those regions 9f pure imagination, of the poetic ideal, he had a confidence of tonch that shows how faith conld remove moun- tains of material obstacle and bring down angels. In 1660, Murillo, in spite of immense opposition, opened an academy of painting in Seville, the expense to be divided among the members, and the scholars to pay what they could afford, but upon admission each student was to make this con- fession of faith: Praised be the Most Holy Sacrament and Pure Conception of our Lady. Owing to the impractical character of Spaniards and the jealousy of artists, the academy did not survive Murillo; but this leads me to say that Murillo was the painter of the Catholic doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. This dogma was a favorite one in the Spanish church, particularly during the reign of Philip IV., and, on the very year of Murillos birth, 1617, Pope Paul V., at the instigation of Spain, issued a bull which forbade the teaching of anything contrary to that doctrine. There was great rejoic- ing over this at Seville. Not only the ecclesiastics, but the artists, who were the exponents of ecclesiastic ideas at that period, set themselves to the proclamation and representation of this decree; so that it came about that Murillo was born into the spirit of this singular dogma, and, a man to whom everything pure was congenial, with his mystical nature, he became, as was said of him, painter of the Conception ; and he executed some twenty representations of this subject. All who have visited the Louvre remember the Immaculate Conception, which was originally painted by Murillo for the Church of the Verierables at Seville, and, it is to be suspected, 40 ilfurillo. [July, has been considerably repainted by French hands. Lovely as it is, with hands folded on breast and eyes glancing upward, in blue mantle and floating robe, it is less lovely than the two pictures in the Prado gallery at Madrid, of the same theme, though more beautiful than the larger one in the Seville Museum, represented with the globe beneath her. The faces in the Madrid paintings are of very youthful age, and such ineffable depth of innocence that the atmosphere around seems purer; and with the mysterious halo fading into night, and the groupings of cherubs holding lilies, roses, and palms, buoyed on cloud-wreaths, colored in the misty indistinctness of his dreamy and softly shadowy brush, they are, truly, heavenly visions, however removed from our habits of religions thought, and false when tested by Scriptural truth. The religion of Spain was and is the religion of the Virgin Mary. Belonging to the same style of mystic representation, are the Infant Christs of Murillo. One of the sweetest of these is the Child with the Lamb~ in the Pradothe child-shepherd form, which Catholic art delights in, as if flying to the farthest extreme of the terrific representations, on the fa~ades of the great cathedrals, of Christ as Judge. The most charming of these, and, indeed, the most delightful picture in the world, of chil- dren, is the Jesus and St. John~ (Lo8 N11n08 de la Conehet) where the little Jesus is giving John water to drink from a shell. Childlike loveliness could no farther go. More pathetic and devout than these, and where profound religious feeling is manifested, even if it run into peculiar Roman Catholic channels, are his Franciscan paintings, and especially the one now hanging in the Seville Museum, of St. Francis embracing the Saviour on the Cross. This picture is of marvelous tenderness. The saint is standing with one foot on a globe as if he were putting the world under him, and close to the cross. His left arm embraces the body of the Saviour, who hangs by one hand, and places the other with brotherly affection upon the sl~oulder of St. Francis, whose upraised eyes full of reverence, pity, and love, are fixed on the face of the Crucifiedcondescension and gracious confidence on the part of the Suffering One, love and deathless devotion on the part of the disciplewhile the gloomy sky lowers over both, 1889.] Afurillo. 41 relieved only by the supernatural light about the form suspended on the tree. You may characterize the picture as the ex- pression of a fantastic affection, in which there is more sentiment than reason; but this Francis of Assissi was a real man, who, for the love of God, put the world beneath him aud trampled on its riches, honors, and hopes. Like the missionary IDamien, he gave up all for Christ a~,nd his little ones. He rose above the material into a state where spiritual things became real. The Divine Presence haunted him. He saw what he believed. He so loved Christ that he brought him before him. He would suffer with him, would be a partaker of his sorrows, and through grief like his he would ascend into Christs holy and divine life. Of ardent nature and with the imagination of a man of genius, and living in an age of faith in miracu- lous manifestations, his life was tinged with the ideal, the supernatural, and the stupendous facts of religion became the realities of his personal experience. This, the painter, a man of like faith, of burning imagination, would represent; so that this is the most profoundly affecting of his works, and of all pictures that were ever painted. I claim for Murillo that he is the greatest religious painter. He is absolutely so in respect of feeling. He is a truer inter- preter of divine things than Raphael, and, infinitely more so than Titian, or the masters of~ the Italian Renaissance, because he was a believer before he was an artist, because he was a genuinely religious man with the holy fire of devotion consum- ing what was base and earthly in him, not prostituting his genius to unworthy subjects, and, Roman Catholic though he was, appealing to the deepest heart of true worshipers in ali ages and nations, whose motto is, like that of St. Francis, every- thing for the love of God. Murillo was at the height of his power as a painter from about the period of 1671 to 1674. He was at that time a lay member of the Holy Charity, in Seville, whose Hospital, that had fallen into decay, was to be renewed in great beauty and richness. Don Miguel Maflara, Murillos friend, and mover of this enterprise, a man who had deeply sinned and deeply re- pented, enlisted the artists sympathies in his pious work, and the eleven great pictures he produced proved to be the crown- 42 Aliurillo. [July, ing achievement of his life, and established his renown as the first painter of Seville, and among the first in the world, ex- hibiting the immense scope of his genius, and that only can be realized in the atmosphere in which they were painted, and in these very pictures, made to adorn the church of the Caridad, where some of them still arehow yellow and mellow they look in that dark, cool, beautiful old church! Five were stolen by Marshal Soult and carried off to France. The spolia- tions of the French in the Peninsula and during the military occupation of Spain, the robbery of works of art and destruc- tion of churches and historic buildings, like those of the Univer- sity of Salamanca, make on:e of the most painful chapters in the history of art, and show an innate vandalism, which all the bril- liant civilization of France cannot excuse. Of the six pictures that remain in place, Moses striking the Rock~ (La Sed) is, perhaps, the greatest. The parched desert, the rock, the agony of thirst shown by the groups of men, women, children, camels, and cattleone woman turning her face from the infant at her breast in order to quench her rag- ing thirstare powerful in design. In the Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes the face of the Saviour is not as spiritual as in other pictures, but the landscape, grouping, invention, variety and breadth of composition in both these paintings, show that Murillo is not merely a painter of cherubs and gypsies, but of works of the broadest scope of composition, having in them thought and everything that goes to make a great picture. Most remarkable of the series, is St. Elizabeth of Hungary washing poor patients, called El Tinoso, now in the Fer- nando Gallery of Madrid; having escaped Soults clutches. It unites the excellences of the three styles, more especially the frio and catido, with fine effects of atmosphere, and of the management of light, which, more than anything, shows the great painter. The local disengagement of the principal figure makes it stand out as if alive. The faultlessness of the draw- ing, the luminous shadows, the treatment of light, the inimit- able skill in the disposition of different gronps~ exhibit a mas- tery of technique as well as of coloring. The beautiful saint arrayed in the dark robe and white head gear of a nun, sur- mounted by a small coronet, washes the scald head of a beggar 1889.] 3furillo. 43 boy (El Tinoso). Withont describing it further, it deals with loathsome poverty and disease; it is, in some respects, repul- sive, it does not smooth over matters. The patients are sqnalid, the rags dirty, the miseries nnfeigned, but the con- trasts are splendid. The white delicate hands that lave the sores, and the queenly figure who presides over the unpleasing scene, the month that trembles with pity and the eyes in tears, while the graceful head slightly turns away, are a lesson of charity where art becomes preacher as it may and ought oftener to do. The few portraits Murillo made, prove him to be at home in this fieldhis realism aiding him in vigorous individuality of expression, but he did not make so many or striking portraits as Velasquez, owing to the fact that he did not live at court, and come in contact with distinguished people. His landscapes also are pleasing, but as a general rule, they lack the glow the gamut of colors as it has been calledwhich makes the charm of his other pictures, but depth, serenity, and a sort of unearthly repose with more of heaven than earth, and partak- ing of his gentle meditative nature, are to be found in the landscapes introduced into his religious pictures. As compared with his great contemporary,Velasquez, Murillo was not less original, but he was not so inapproachable an artist; therefore he exerted a more direct influence upon contempo- raneous art, especially as a colorist. Velasquez was hard and scientific, and kept his feet on solid ground, and was too exclusively intellectual to be a religious artist. Regulated power, with plenty of reserved force, a disdain of all littleness, and a moderation that, like the Greeks, had nothing in excess, a genius which was so sure of itself that it dealt in no stratagems of effect, no tours de force, but painted nature as in realityfor nothing was to high or too low for himand all combined with an unerring skill to effect what he con- ceived, were his characteristics. But Murillo had, above this, a self-abandonment, an elevation, and a purity that, sometimes, like Mozart in music, took flight from earth to heaven. He struck a tenderer and loftier chord. But he did not lack homely vigor. He copied Spanish nature pure and simple. He broke through the gloomy rigidity of Spanish painting and introduced 44 iWiurillo. [July, nature, beauty, grace, humoristic freedom and realistic force, excelling Velasquez in coloring, as he did Velasquez and all others, in feeling. There is indeed but one Murillo, and though we sometimes call him the Spanish Correggio, yet in this we by no means describe his original power, for Murillo had more depth of passion and was stronger than the sweet painter of Parma, and while he had the same angelic grace his gaze was more steadily fixed upwards. JAMES M. HoPPIN. 1889.] Simeon Baldwin Chittenden. 45 ARTICLE 111.SIMEON BALDWIN CHITTENDEN. Simeon B. Chittenden. A Biographical sketch prepared by Edward Cary, Esq., to accompany the catalogue of portraits of eminent merchants possessed by the Chamber of Com- merce of the State of New York. New York: Press of the Chamber of Commerce, 1889. A PERU5AL of this brief but just and comprehensive tribute to the memory of one whose name is familiar to many of our readers has revived the recollection of some of the incidents of his life and the prominent features of his character as these were known to the writer. Mr. Chittenden came to New Haven at the age of fourteen, in the autumn of 1828, as clerk and shop-boy in the store of McCracken & Merriman, at that time one of the prominent dry goods establishments in the city. The writer was then a Sophomore in college and a room-mate with the oldest son of Rev. Aaron Dutton, the pastor of the Congregational church in old Guilford, who was known and honored for his pastoral fidelity and beloved for his kindly humor. He was a special friend of the family of Mr. Chit- tenden, between whom and his own boys there also existed the warmest friendship. Nothing could be more natural than that this lonely boy should pay his Sunday evening visits to his friend, nor that at these visits the memories of the past and the gossip of the present should while away many an hour. Mr. Chittenden was a fresh looking boy when dressed in his jacket and trousers, and more than commonly attractive for the ardor of his feelings and his pronounced self-reliance. As one looked upon his animated face and noticed its expression he might confidently forecast the strong character that was subsequently developed in the man and the successful career that was even then begnn. It was not long before he made himself felt as one of the brightest and most sagacious clerks in New Haven, and so soon as he was old enough to enter upon business for himself his advance was rapid and his future success was acknowledged. His influence was not confined to trade and

1889.] Simeon Baldwin Chittenden. 45 ARTICLE 111.SIMEON BALDWIN CHITTENDEN. Simeon B. Chittenden. A Biographical sketch prepared by Edward Cary, Esq., to accompany the catalogue of portraits of eminent merchants possessed by the Chamber of Com- merce of the State of New York. New York: Press of the Chamber of Commerce, 1889. A PERU5AL of this brief but just and comprehensive tribute to the memory of one whose name is familiar to many of our readers has revived the recollection of some of the incidents of his life and the prominent features of his character as these were known to the writer. Mr. Chittenden came to New Haven at the age of fourteen, in the autumn of 1828, as clerk and shop-boy in the store of McCracken & Merriman, at that time one of the prominent dry goods establishments in the city. The writer was then a Sophomore in college and a room-mate with the oldest son of Rev. Aaron Dutton, the pastor of the Congregational church in old Guilford, who was known and honored for his pastoral fidelity and beloved for his kindly humor. He was a special friend of the family of Mr. Chit- tenden, between whom and his own boys there also existed the warmest friendship. Nothing could be more natural than that this lonely boy should pay his Sunday evening visits to his friend, nor that at these visits the memories of the past and the gossip of the present should while away many an hour. Mr. Chittenden was a fresh looking boy when dressed in his jacket and trousers, and more than commonly attractive for the ardor of his feelings and his pronounced self-reliance. As one looked upon his animated face and noticed its expression he might confidently forecast the strong character that was subsequently developed in the man and the successful career that was even then begnn. It was not long before he made himself felt as one of the brightest and most sagacious clerks in New Haven, and so soon as he was old enough to enter upon business for himself his advance was rapid and his future success was acknowledged. His influence was not confined to trade and 46 Simeon Baldwin Chitten den. [July, investments. He very early began to concern himself with the welfare of the public, religious and general, and to be foremost in enterprise and liberality. The influence of his schoolmate, Dr. iDutton, to whom he was warmly attached, and of Dr. Bacon, whose stimulating courage and enterprise were akin to his own, were most important in his early training to a large and cour- ageous liberality and a generous public spirit. In 1842 he established himself in New York in the dry goods business and at once assumed a high position. Many circumstances com- bined to furnish a favorable sphere for his eminent success in trade, and also for the development and training of his char- acter and intellect to a sanguine yet cautious public spirit. His connection from its beginning with the Church of the Pilgrims and his intimacy with its gifted pastor, his joint ownership of the Independent newspaper, the fierce excite- ments of the War for the Union, and the financial convulsions which followed, were all potent agencies to train, to stimulate, and to develop all the manhood there was in him. To all these agencies he responded with unabated vigor till the infirmities of age overcame him and great sorrows quieted the ardors of his youth. His liberality to public objects was most laudable from the first. He early learned and practiced the lessons of generous giving not only in religious channels, but for objects of public interest.. These lessons were stimulated by his early intimacy with Drs. Dutton and Bacon in the very beginnings of his business life in New Haven, and in this way he was prepared to meet with ready promptness the numerous and pressing calls which were made upon him during the eventful period of his expanding public life in the great metropolis. He liked a bold stroke in giving as well as in business but he never threw his money away in either. While he was occasionally daring and possibly sometimes sensational he was uniformly sagacious and clear-headed. In 1867, after years of interest in Yale College, he surprised his friends and perhaps somewhat surprised him- self by the gift of 50,000 dollars as the foundation for the support of the college pastor. Towards the end of his life he contributed a much larger sum for the erection of the splendid library edifice which will preserve the name and memory of a 1889.1 Simeon Baldwin Chittenden. 47 beloved daughter who was cut off prematurely as it would seem but was never forgotten by any who knew her. Being present at the commencement exercises of that year, he was asked to address the assembled Alumni in response to their grateful acknowledgment of the gift to which reference has been made. He hesitated long, evidently not unwilling, though fearing lest he might not succeed, and confessing frankly that he should fulfill the highest ambition of his life if he should be able to speak with success before such an assembly. He made the attempt and did not fail. That effort was the beginning of a new career in whichwhen subse- quently what we call chance brought him into public life by dint of persevering effort and the resolute mastery of his theme and of himself, he rendered eminent service to the country and gained well earned honor to himself in his discussion of the legal tender act and the return to specie payments. Manifold as his ability had been in public and private ways and distinguished as had been his success,his achievements here were not the least memorable as illustrating his courage, his perseverance, his self-reliance, and his public spirit. NOAH PORTER. 45 Addre& 9 to Yale Law School Graduate8. [July, ARTICLE IV.ADDRESS TO THE GRADUATING CLASSES OF YALE LAW SCHOOL. B~ HON. CIIAUNCEY M. DEPEW. I DO not propose to pursue any of the subjects upon which you have been instructed by this learned Faculty, nor am I prepared to compete with you with a thesis upon some legal question as a part of the Exercises of Graduation. The Com- mencement Orator usually addresses himself to the Professors and the elder members of the profession, but I came here to speak to you. The most joyous of days is that which closes the doors of the school and opens the gateway to the World; the most apprehensive, the one which marks the opening of your clientless office; the happiest, the first return, after the future is secure and success assured, to college scenes and asso- ciations. It is the privilege of age and experience to indicate paths in the fields you are yet to explore, to point out the dangers which beset them, and the methods of safe and com- fortable travel. Most of the ideals of these closing hours devoted to the confidential interchange of aspirations and hopes will be shattered against the stern realities of practical life, but their destruction will furnish the lessons for sure foundations and permanent construction. At this hour all your thoughts are concentrated in one wordSuccess. If your construction of success was honestly analyzed, it would probably mean to most minds the getting of money. The desire to acquire property is the most potent force in the activities of our people. It is the mainspring of of our marvelous development, and the incentive and reward of intelligent industry. It is alike the cause of the noblest efforts and the most re~volting crimes. That man would be unfaithful to his family and to his own independence who did not use every honorable effort, and practice every reasonable economy, to secure home and competence for declining years. But the lawyer who makes this his sole aim is an unworthy

45 Addre& 9 to Yale Law School Graduate8. [July, ARTICLE IV.ADDRESS TO THE GRADUATING CLASSES OF YALE LAW SCHOOL. B~ HON. CIIAUNCEY M. DEPEW. I DO not propose to pursue any of the subjects upon which you have been instructed by this learned Faculty, nor am I prepared to compete with you with a thesis upon some legal question as a part of the Exercises of Graduation. The Com- mencement Orator usually addresses himself to the Professors and the elder members of the profession, but I came here to speak to you. The most joyous of days is that which closes the doors of the school and opens the gateway to the World; the most apprehensive, the one which marks the opening of your clientless office; the happiest, the first return, after the future is secure and success assured, to college scenes and asso- ciations. It is the privilege of age and experience to indicate paths in the fields you are yet to explore, to point out the dangers which beset them, and the methods of safe and com- fortable travel. Most of the ideals of these closing hours devoted to the confidential interchange of aspirations and hopes will be shattered against the stern realities of practical life, but their destruction will furnish the lessons for sure foundations and permanent construction. At this hour all your thoughts are concentrated in one wordSuccess. If your construction of success was honestly analyzed, it would probably mean to most minds the getting of money. The desire to acquire property is the most potent force in the activities of our people. It is the mainspring of of our marvelous development, and the incentive and reward of intelligent industry. It is alike the cause of the noblest efforts and the most re~volting crimes. That man would be unfaithful to his family and to his own independence who did not use every honorable effort, and practice every reasonable economy, to secure home and competence for declining years. But the lawyer who makes this his sole aim is an unworthy 1889.] Addre8s to Yale Law School Graduate8. 49 member of the noblest of professions and will never win its honors or rewards. The mastery of any calling involves a thorough knowledge of its history and objects, and pride in its pnrsuit. The law is at once the dryest of stndies and fullest of inspiration. Its re- lations to liberty, government, and the welfare of mankind, enlarges the vision of the stndent, and the broader his learn- ing, the more eager is his enthnsiasm. The discovery of the Pandects of Jnstinian in the sack of Amalfi saved the world from relapsing into barbarism. This great codification of the learning of centnries illumined the monastery, liberalized the chnrch, invaded the universities, checked feudalism, tanght jnstice to rulers, and their rights to the people, and preserved civilization from being hopelessly lost in the darkness of the Middle Ages. Bnt while the light thus shed by the laws of an ancient and extinct empire rescued Europe from the reign of brute force and ignorance, and while the general principles of justice are of universal application, yet the institutions of every people are the results of origin, race, character, environment, and climatic conditions. It is the glory of the ancestry from whom we derive our laws, that though sometimes conquered, they never lost their statutes and customs. All other nations have fallen under the codes of the invader, but William the Norman left untouched those sources of justice and freedom which were found in Saxon jurisprudence. The haughty Barons who could not write their names brought King John to the field of IRunnymede. At the point of their good swords they forced from him Magna Charta, and with their hilts they stamped upon it their arms, but the pen of the lawyers framed it. These great jurists, loyal as the profession has ever been to liberty, unrecognized then and unknown now, so wisely drew the great charter of freedom, that it has been confirmed thirty-seven times, and to-day needs neither amend- ment nor commentary. The lawyers compelled Elizabeth, proudest of Queens, to surrender the monopolies which were ruining the kingdom, with an apology that she intended them for the good of the people, which was at that period a most valuable admission of popular rights. 4 voL. xv. 50 Address to Yale law School Graduates. [July, Coke checked even the arbitrary Charles the First with the judgment, that the law was superior to the sovereigns will, and Cromwell charged at Marston Moor for principles learned as a student at law, and by them raised England from the depth of degradation to the pinnacle of greatness while ruling at Westminster. The early settlers of America were deeply im- bued by precept and example with Magna Charta, the Petition of Rights, and the principles of the Common Law, but they fled from ecclesiastical tyranny and the abuses of privilege. They sought liberty, religious and civil. In their hard strug- gles with savage man and inhospitable nature, the simple economy of their State needed no lawyers, and for quite a cen- tury they had none. The Minister and the Magistrate both made the laws and administered them. But those hundred years were the nursery of the American lawyer. Equal condi- tions had led, not to communism or socialism, for they are alien to our race, but to political rights common to all. Every prin- ciple derived from the Old World which strengthened the individual, and protected him in his home, his family, his property and his citizenship, found fertile soil and grew with expansive vigor. The genius of this development was to destroy privilege and promote equality. It was neither a re- volt nor a revolution against caste and class, for neither were present to overcome, but it was a growth which left them out. It was jm evolution which peacefully produced a Common- wealth where their existence was impossible. As commerce and trade increased, communities became crowded, property was to be exchanged and devised, and the multitudinous relations of civilized life in cities and towns adjusted, lawyers became a necessity. They were at once the advisers of the people and the architects of the State. The more we study, the more we admire the ability, integrity, cour- age, and patriotism of these Fathers of the American Bar. They brought on the Revolution and made it a lawyers war. The Judges and Statesmen of England were amazed at the learning and power with which they presented the Colonial protest, and made up the American case. Chatham and Burke found in them new inspiration for their eloquence, and fresh and immortal defences of liberty. The Constitution of the United 1889.] Address to Yale Law School Graduates. 51 States is the oniy Charter of Government which has withstood the shocks, and been equal to the progress of the wonderful centnry which closed with its centenary. It was exclusively the work of the lawyers of the convention. It is a singular fact that the laymen, among the statesmen of the period, gen- erally opposed its adoption, and that it was carried before the people and in the State Conventions by the matchless elo- quence, prophetic fervor, and resistless logic of its lawyer advo- cates. This is the only conntry in the history of the world where the Conrts pass npon and annul the acts of the Executive and Legislative branches of the Government. The tyranny from which they suffered by the nsnrpations possible nnder an un- written Constitution, led the American people to limit by spe- cific grants the powers which they gave their rulers. The judgment that the law is unconstitutional paralyses both Presi- dent and Congress. This idea is purely American. The most original and creative enactment in the development of repre- sentative government is the law creating the Federal Judiciary. There were no precedents to gnide its framer, and his snccess was dne not so mnch to his vast learning, as to his having ab- sorbed the spirit of American Liberty. This majestic system enters npon its second century, with unequalled lustre, dignity, and power, under the statntes almost unchanged which created it. As the years advance, and the merits of the founders of the Republic are better understood, a foremost place among them will be given to Oliver Ellsworth of Connecticut, the au- thor of our Judiciary system, and the Patron Saint of this University of Law. The profession by its training, obligations, and opportunities becomes charged with the gravest public responsibilities. The Judges of the most powerful of the three heads of our govern.. ment are drawn exclusively from its ranks. But the special fitness and official character of its members have given them a potential voice in the Executive and Legislative as well as the Judicial administration of the Republic. Nineteen of the twenty-three Presidents of the United States have been law- yers, and for eighty-two of the hundred years of our Presi- dency, the office has been filled by a member of the profession. 52 Addre88 to Yale Law School Gi~aduate8. [July, The lawyers numbered twenty-four of the fifty-four Signers of the Declaration of Independence, and thirty of the fifty-five Members of the Convention which framed the Constitution. In most administrations a large majority of the Cabinet have been lawyers, and I can remember none in which their repre- sentation has not been equal to those from all other vocations combined; while about two-thirds of the Senate and the con- trolling minds in the House have always been bred to the bar. Under these conditions the character and equipment of those who are admitted become of supreme public importance. The thoughtless clamor for free law means in the end the de- struction of the law itself, through contempt for its interpreters and practitioners. So long as the American Democracy be- lieves that its Courts are learned, fearless, and incorruptible, the people are themselves the standing army which upholds their judgments and enforces their decrees. As the country increases in population, in wealth, in crowded communities, in vast combinations of labor and capital, in the elements which, in any disintegration of society from wrongs or corruptions, come together for the overthrow of existing institutions, the salvation of our lives and property, of our families and homes, of our rights and liberties, of our civilization itself, depends more and more upon a Judiciary which commands the respect and confidence of the masses. The men who are to settle es- tates, care for the interests of women, of widows and orphans, administer sacred trusts, defend the weak, right wrongs, fight injustice or crime intrenched behind wealth and power, and furnish the Judges of the land, can neither be ignoramuses nor knaves without weakening the whole fabric of society and gov- ernment in proportion to their incompetence or rascality. The Republic has passed through grave crises and solved great problems. A people who could successfully grapple with the vast property and political interests involved in slave own- ership, and by peaceful legislation and stern administration of the laws, reach and extirpate the crime of polygamy in a pop- ulous community wedded to the practice by the power of unbridled passions and religious fanaticism, have demonstrated to an extraordinary degree the faculty for government. But questions of more universal moment will arise, and they will 1889.1 Address to Yale Law School Graduates. 53 require all your wisdom, patriotism, and courage. We are at present sailing upon tranquil seas, with no clouds above the horizon and no warnings from the barometer. It is at such tinies that the prudent and experienced navigator hopes for the best and prepares for the worst. The discovery of gold in California and silver in the Sierras and the Rocky Mountains, and of petroleum and natural gas in Pennsylvania and other States; the abnormal development of our mineral resources, and the invention of the telegraph, the telephone, the sewing machine, and other devices to economize labor and stimulate production; the rapid construction of railroads to meet the demands of a vast immigration, the settlement of new terri- tories, the building of States and the magical creation of cities, have offered opportunities unequalled in the Worlds history for the sudden accumulation of enormous fortunes, and the growth of great corporations. The present situation is a surprising commentary upon the worthlessness of deductions drawn from historical parallels in predicating similar results upon the happening of like con- ditions to the American people. The more profound and philo- sophic the minds, the wider have they missed the mark. The Fathers of the Republic apprehended the most frightful con- sequences from a mere suggestion of existing facts. Webster, speaking at a time when there were not three men in the country worth a million of dollars, and not one worth five millions, and when corporations were practically unknown, prophesied that in the conditions~ as they exist in the United States to-day, there would either be a restriction of suffrage or the destruction of property rights, and IMlacaulay believed that the great mass of voters would be reduced to a poverty which would leave them without a dinner and unable to find a break- fast, and with no army to maintain order, they would murder the rich and divide their estates. While these fears were groundless, nevertheless the restlessness of labor and its consol- idation into powerful organizations, occasional riots displaying the fiercest passions and most destructive spirit, and spasms of legislative fury against corporate investments, indicate discon- tents and dangers, which it is folly to ignore, and criminal to neglect. They show further that public spirited and success- 54 Addres8 to Yale Law School Graduates. [July, ful men and honest corporations suffer from a keen sense of wrong against those who have acquired fortnnes by violence or fraud, or the companies who have nnjnstly or tyranically mis- used their franchises. Ko intelligent man desires a return to the crude conditions and primitive simplicity of the good old times. Kotwith- standing great fortunes, there is a wider and more universal distribution of property, and ownership of homes than ever before. In spite, or rather because of invention, there is greater demand and larger employment for labor, and better wages, than at any other period in our history. Universal suffrage, which, with the increase of wealth, boded only evil to the imagination of the early patriot, is now demonstrated to be the security of society. Laws, and not men, are our governors; the people make the laws and respect and enforce their creations, but the stability of order depends upon the intelligence of the voters. Here the lawyers duty is plain and his mission clear. Suffrage can, if it pleases, annihilate property and dissolve corporations; but the majority are investors in land or personality, and would fiercely defend what they own. They do not wish the limit fixed beyond which neither they nor their children may go. The procession from the bottom, in its upward march, is forever passing the unfortunate, who are coming down from the top. The second or third generation, with few exceptions, ends where the first began. And yet if the laws were so framed or were so inter- preted by the courts, that any advantage was given to one class of citizens not equally enjoyed by all, the majority, in sternly seeking a remedy, might overturn the very foundations of vested rights and interests, and plunge the Commonwealth into chaos. See to it that all the burdens of the State are equally borne and its benefits open alike to all. Keep the roads paved and free from obstructions by which the industrious, the honest, and the capable, with no additional capital but character, can rise from any condition to the highest honors of the Republic, and the largest rewards of business. Declamation is cheap and the vocabulary of epithet large and easily accessible, but they remedy no evils. An eminent jurist said to me recently, that many ambitious lawyers in his State had preached, from the 1889.1 Address to Yale Law School Graduates. 55 stump and on the platform, that railroad ownership was rob- bery, and its confiscation by special taxation and unremunera- tive rates a patriotic duty. They sought by this appeal to tem- porary interests to becoiue Judges and Congressmen, though they knew that the general inculcation and adoption of the principle would end in Communism, and the destruction of the property of the people they professed a desire to protect. The anarchist, ignorant of liberty, madly plots and dies for the overthrow of law, order, and religion; but he is at least honest in his convictions and purposes. Fifteen years ago one man owned a majority of the stock of the New York Central Rail- road, and a few others most of the balance. Now it has ten thousand proprietors, and the large majority of them are people of small property. This indicates a process of distribu- tion which will speedily change the character and management of American corporations. The magnitude of modern enterprises and the close com- petitions of business have rendered the massing of the money of the many into one company a necessity which seems to be steadily increasing. The only other suggestion for carrying on the great affairs essential to comfortable living in our complex civilization is for the government to conduct them all. But experience has demonstrated that then, as in the German rail- ways, the people get the minimum of service for the maximum of price, and an army of office-holders keeps its party in power, and prevents the reform of abuses or the remedy of wrongs. We meet the question better by a compromise which may be wisely enlarged, of State and National supervision. That the government should watch the management and bring it to frequent accountability, that it should firmly protect the public, the stockholder, and the employees, is the present, if iluper- fect, solution of the corporation problem. The gilded idiots who dissipate their time, and affect a social superiority over those who work, and the millionaires who never remember that wealth is a trust involving corresponding obligations to the public, are exasperating sources of agitation against the conditions which make them possible. But with- out the aid of primogeniture and entail to protect estates against the operation of natural laws, plutocracy has, in the 56 Addre& s to Yale Law School Graduate8. [July, infirmities of mankind and the division of accumulations among descendants, the active principle of disintegration and constant redistribution. iMlasterful men always forge ahead. In the tribal condition they became chiefs. In war they are generals. In politics the statesmen and party leaders. In the professions they com- mand the large incomes. In journalism they control public opinion, and in its modern development own great and profit- able newspapers. In bnsiness they rise from nothing to be mill and mine owners, merchants, contractors, millionaires. Monarchies and aristocracies maintain barriers of rank and caste over which these natural leaders cannot climb, and they remain the slaves of the accidents of birth. But in Democra- cies where equal rights and opportnnities are shared by all, if it is decided to repress the ambitions and successful, no iiu- provement has been suggested by onr modern levellers upon the ancient Grecian method of killing them. Perhaps if they lived to the Biblical period of several hnndred years, some action might be necessary, but God and Nature have made laws, which, unless restricted in their operation by human legislation, give to all men and women their full opportunities to work ont their own destinies, and provide the incentives to efforts and ambitions which promote the enterprises and de- velop the resources of the country, and enrich and invigorate its intellectnal life. Evolution and environment easily developed in the older States that indestrnctible union of liberty and law which has given character and perpetnity in American institntions. It produced those perfect conditions, of freedom, protection, and equality, which peoples have songht for ages through bloody revolutions, and never before fonnd. It has attracted to onr shores fourteen ~millions of emigrants, against the snperior advantages of soil and climate in Mexico and South America, or equal material opportunities in Canada. Most of this vast population have fled from the oppression of laws made for classes and working injnstice and wrong to the masses. They have been of incalculable benefit to the country, and withont them onr development and resources would be fifty years behind their present state. They have brought with them in- 1889.] Address to Yale Law & hool Graduates. 57 dnstry, integrity, and an intense desire to better their lives and improve the condition of their children. Bnt with many of them government was by tradition and experience an engine for oppression; and law, the police and the army, convertible terms. Here these colonists discover no army to snpport the government or enforce the decrees of the Courts; and the village constable, only the impotent shadow of the ever- present and all-pervading minions of the Bureau of Jnstice at home. Their good citizenship is the highest possible tribnte to the assimilating power of onr institntions, and to the common school, acting upon the parents throngh the children; bnt chiefly to the jnst and impressive character of our Courts. But the greed of contractors has unnaturally disturbed the wages and employment of labor by importing large bodies of men, whose ignorance has made them dnpes, and who are without family ties, and the hostages which homes give to society. Foreign nations also abuse our hos- pitality by shipping to us their paupers and criminals. The banding together of all Enropean governments to repress socialism and expel its leaders, is constantly recruiting the ranks of trained agitators in onr large cities, whose mis- sion and teachings are to bring into contempt, and then overthrow those bulwarks of order and safety, religion and law. Here we have the elements which are always lying in wait for revolution. The conrage and dash of a handful of police at the critical moment was all that saved Chicago from destrnction by general conflagration, and the infinitely worse horrors of the sack. We can still welcome honest immigrants who seek the protection of onr liberty, and the opportunities open because of the equal and impartial operation of onr laws, bnt we must no longer be the refuge for the rascals of the world, and the asylum for the crimes and diseases of mankind. Present protection and future safety alike demand a prohibi- tory tariff npon those who come here to make war npon onr institutions, to be a bnrden npon onr communities, or to en- danger onr peace, our property, or our lives. Steam and electricity have made us one people, and for commercial pnrposes unified the world. The rapid and grow- ing interchanges of nations demand the adoption of the prin 58 Addre88 to Yale Law School Graduate8. [July, ciples and the assimilation of the procedure of the law all round the globe. The development of this reform will be attended by more beneficent results than any other event of modern times. Kations and peoples will be brought into those close relations where the higher justice, and the nobler law, will attract study and enthusiasm, and new impetus be given to the regenerating forces of civilization and liberty. But there should be no conflict of laws between the several States of the Union. The present condition of the divorce statutes are a disgrace to our jurisprudence and a menace to the family. It is contrary to the spirit of our Federal compact, as it is understood to-day, that husband and wife may be indissolubly tied together in one commonwealth and free to marry again in another, and their children be legitimate in one jurisdiction and illegitimate across the boundary line. While the different methods of creating and dissolving, of controlling and taxing corporations, joint stock companies and trusts, whose business is spread over many States, and the same in all, lead to confu- sion, litigation, and injustice. But other public duties press upon the lawyer, besides dis- cussions and actions upon great questions of general interest. It is his special function as a politician to protect the Court from the influence of politics. The revolt against the abuses of the appointing power in other offices, ended in the extreme of short terms and frequent elections for Judges. The result was most unfortunate for the independence of the Judiciary. It made the Judge the servant of the party bosses who con- trolled the nominating conventions, and created a class of lawyers, without learning, who were retained for their influ- ence. Justice was indeed blind when all the power of the Judges party was on the side of one litigant, and her vision often could only be cleared by having an equal division of political counsel. Crimes against the ballot and the abuse of public trusts were unpunished. Justice is of universal appli- cation, and its dispensation ought not to be dependent upon the claims of locality or party service. The longer the term, and the more secure the tenure of the Judicial office, the higher will be the character of the Court, the more potent the silent power of the law, and the better the bar both in learning and integrity. 1889.] Address to Yale Law School Graduates. 59 It is the special function of the lawyer to actively participate in the affairs of his community. He is the spokesman for its patriotic observances, for the reforms of its abuses, and for the enlargement of its functions. He is the motive power in its educational, moral, and charitable work. He is the force in the councils of his party. But if he would succeed at the bar he must decline office. Public spirit and usefulness attract clients, but service in Congress or the Legislature closes his register. Capitalists and business men are vitally interested in legislation, and in the ability and character of our law makers, but they punish their attorney if he enters upon a parliamentary career, by transferring their retainers. The most deadly assault upon integrity and capacity in public life is made by those whose fortunes and incomes are dependent upon pure and wise enact- ments. They fear and despise the professional politician, and yet do their best, by social and business ostracism, to drive hon- orable ambition from the public service, and leave to the pro- fessional politician the conduct of government. Trust and confidence are the foundation of success. With- out them it is useless to begin and impossible to advance. When clients find their secrets inviolable and their property safe, business grows apace, and when in addition they discover the ability which so fights as to win or deserve verdicts, the fortune of the counsel is assured. Plodding men who promptly pay over their collections easily pass the brilliant advocates whose bank accounts reluctantly respond to the clients call for their money. Many an unpromising future has been redeemed by never letting the night pass between the receipt of the pay- ment and its transfer to the owner, nor permitting the occasion to happen for a reminder or demand. The true lawyer is far more absorbed in his case than if it was his personal business, and he feels that a sacred trust has been put in the keeping of his integrity, ability, and judgment. He is never caught unprepared: he asks no favors because of his own negligence; he has so mastered the law and the facts that he knows the real issue, and his enthusiasm and partizan ardor impress with their earnestness and lucidity Courts and Juries. He rather pre- vents than enconrages litigation, and finds in the end that his own best interests are promoted thereby. Attorneys who add 60 Addre8s to Yale Law & hool Graduatee. [July, fuel to the feuds of the neighborhood, seek technical flaws in titles to compel settlements and secure peace, and hunt for skeletons in the closets of the living and the dead, that pride or affection may be compelled to pay, to avoid exposures which are certain to cause mortification, and may leave a stain upon the character or memory, are public nuisances, and disgrace the profession. Bnt when they pacify quarreling friends, adjnst the disputes which threaten partnerships, and above all pre- sent in the spirit of conciliation and forgiveness their faults and interests to husband and wife, whose estrangement threatens the wreck of the family in the Divorce Court, they use their unusual opportunities to be the benefactors of mankind. That there are sixty thousand lawyers in the United States, and that the profession is crowded, need discourage no one who deserves success. Part of them have neglected their oppor- tunities, and many have mistaken their calling. The gifts of men are infinite in character and degree, but the rarest is the faculty for honest work. The carpenter and mason, the painter and plumber, the lumberman and the stone-cutter, all furnish and place the materials for the creations of the great architect. A famous lawyer told me, that in his early practice he carried to Webster a brief he had been six months in preparing. That marvellous intellect absorbed his labor in a night, and built upon it an argument which illumined the case, and exhibited controlling principles, which neither opposing counsel or the Court below had seen. Because Webster and Curtis, Evarts and OConor dominate their generations, the remark has become trite, that there is plenty of room at the top. But while all may not reach their level, persistent and intelligent industry will command their recognition. Some men are the first scholars of their class in College, and marvels of memory in the Law School who are never heard of afterwards. They have a talent for acquisition and recitation, but they can neither use nor apply their material. They never see the point in their case, nor discover the truth in their doctrines. They are deficient in grey matter and sense, and should find their places outside the liberal professions before their careers are hopelessly ruined. 1889.] Address to Yale Law School Graduates. 61 When, however, you are satisfied with your vocation, then the golden hours for preparation for business, when it comes, are in the early years of practice. The whole field of human knowledge furnishes material for use in after life. History and biography, literature and science, philosophy and politics, will add their share to the fully equipped mind, while the law and again the law becomes more thoroughly imbedded in memory and assimilated in thinking. Busy men are often carried safely through the latter half of their lives by drawing upon these invaluable accumulations of the leisure period for the wise man, and the lazy one for the fool. I sometimes think that there is no limit to what a man can do, if the idle hours usually given to waiting for somebody or something, to worth- less gossip, to the social glass at the club in the afternoon, which unfits him for work in the evening, and to the fascinating luxury of empty-headedness, were hailed as special gifts of Providence to be treasured and used for study. Lord Coleridge, while on his visit to Yale, asked me where he could find in this country the villages so common in Eng- land, where old lawyers, sixty years of age and upwards, who had fixed incomes from their investments of from two to three thousand dollars a year, and had retired from practice, could spend the remainder of their lives in the congenial companion- ship of educated neighbors, with no other occupation than the cultivation of a garden, and the mild excitement of the whist club and tea party. I told him we had no such lawyers. Few of them had accumulated that amount of capital, and those who had were still rising young men at the bar. Our curse as a Nation is the prevalence of false standards of success. It en- courages gambling, leads to breaches of trust, and is the daily cause of the flight of the cashier with the deposits of the bank, and of the attorney and executor with the funds of the estate. Independent income sufficient for the maintenance of a com- fortable home is success. After that, it is a question of de- gree. It has been demonstrated by a multitude of long and honorable lives, that work and an active interest and participa- tion in current events repair the waste of time and age. Nil ad~irari is the aim of the student, and ends in torpor and imbecility in the man. The history of our country justi 132 Address to Yale Law School Graduates. [July, lies optimism, and to keep pace with the times requires enthu- siasm. Do not fear that it will impair the opinion of the com- munity in the solidity of your judgment to cheer, and hail as a special gift of Providence the opportunity to laugh. Behind you are the precepts and examples of great lawyers and judges whose learning and labors have enriched the world, and achieved imperishable renown for the statesmanship, the bench and the bar of our country. Before you are the fields in which these eminent men won their laurels and received their rewards, and where the larger opportunities of to-day give you hope, promise, and welcome. 1889.] Bet he8da. 63 ARTICLE V.BETHESDA. YEA it is true, most strange sights have I seen. These three days journey from Jerusalem With all the throng returning from the feast Ive pondered oer and oer the wondrous tale Which I would fain repeat to thee my friend, To thee alone, and first; for thou and I Think not as do the vulgar crowd, nor as Some persons of our sect the Sadducees Who but maintain the opposite to that The Pharisees are pleased to call the law. But thou and I have ever sought the truth, Lifting her veils, one after one, perchance At last to see some glimpse of her real face. Thou knowest the sheep gate of Jerusalem? IDost mind thee too, there is a pool near by? A tank it is, with water dark and red, Not pleasing to the eye. Around is built A colonade, with roof and porches five, A place thats sheltered from the sun, and cool At midday. Here there lay sick folk, a throng Of blind, and lame, with divers sore diseased. The place was full, so full that walking through It was the Sabbath dayI gathered close My mantles fringe, lest I should touch some one And be defiled. Why lay they there, sayest thou? An angel, say they, comes at certain times To move the water; whosoever then First steps in afterward is healed. An angel Say they! Thou and I hold that none exist. Rather say the spring which feeds the tank Sends bubbles from its secret source. How they Can cure I know not. Tis one delusion more The ignorant believe.

1889.] Bet he8da. 63 ARTICLE V.BETHESDA. YEA it is true, most strange sights have I seen. These three days journey from Jerusalem With all the throng returning from the feast Ive pondered oer and oer the wondrous tale Which I would fain repeat to thee my friend, To thee alone, and first; for thou and I Think not as do the vulgar crowd, nor as Some persons of our sect the Sadducees Who but maintain the opposite to that The Pharisees are pleased to call the law. But thou and I have ever sought the truth, Lifting her veils, one after one, perchance At last to see some glimpse of her real face. Thou knowest the sheep gate of Jerusalem? IDost mind thee too, there is a pool near by? A tank it is, with water dark and red, Not pleasing to the eye. Around is built A colonade, with roof and porches five, A place thats sheltered from the sun, and cool At midday. Here there lay sick folk, a throng Of blind, and lame, with divers sore diseased. The place was full, so full that walking through It was the Sabbath dayI gathered close My mantles fringe, lest I should touch some one And be defiled. Why lay they there, sayest thou? An angel, say they, comes at certain times To move the water; whosoever then First steps in afterward is healed. An angel Say they! Thou and I hold that none exist. Rather say the spring which feeds the tank Sends bubbles from its secret source. How they Can cure I know not. Tis one delusion more The ignorant believe. 64 Bet hesda. [July, I waited though To see this so-called wonder, marveling much At the great numbers gathered there in hope Of being cured. I spoke to one or two, One blind man, one deformed, and one who was Possessed with devilsso they saidbut that Again is but a name, since we believe There are no spirits. One old man I saw For eight and thirty years in suffering bent. He lay so patiently, he was so old I gladly would have helped him if I could. And many more there were, disease and sin Writ on their faces. So I walked about But still the angel tarried, and I laughed In secret, thinking he would tarry long. And as I stood there waiting some one came And spoke to the old man I told thee of. His face I saw not; the old mans I saw, And heard him tell his tale as he told me. And then I heard clear and distinct the voice Of him he spoke to. It was not loud, or strong, But with a power of energy and life. Rise, he said, take up thy bed and walk. And the man rose, took up his bed, and walked! I tell thee that I saw him, one moment lying A helpless, shapeless mass of suffering, The next erect and strong upon his feet! What shouts of praise went up from all around! The man himself seemed dazed, and said no word But moved about as in a dream, his bed Upon his back, as if he feared to change From that one posture, in which he found his strength. Then those who looked on of the Pharisees Forbad him, saying twas the Sabbath day. But of the man himself, who bade him rise, I saw no trace; the crowd was great, and he Had no apparel to distinguish him. Thou knowest we are wont to think the people Run to superstition, are credulous, Like to believe the marvelous. In proof 1889.] Bet heeda. 65 We cite the fables of the Oral Law, And show by argument, and reasoning just, They are but tales unworthy of belief. I will confess my reason was disturbed By this great sight; but soon returned to me My proper state of mind, weighing and questioning All things. It is some jugglers trick, said I, Or if no trick, then something all can do. The miracles of old, of which we read Have long since ceased. It cannot be that now A man works wonders. Put it to the test. Whereon I went to one who prostrate lay A strong young man, some accident had lamed I went to him, stood by him, bade him rise. A sudden flash of joy came in his face, He started up, then fell back with a groan, And muttered awful curses in his beard. I scarce can tell thee how I felt, rebuked, Humiliated, and distressed. His words Were more than I could bear. I fled away, I scarce knew whither, till I found myself At last within the Temples cooling shade. There standing right in front of me, was He, The man I saw who bade the lame man rise And he did rise. I saw his face I say. Like to the shining sun upon the sea- A blaze of dazzling light it shone on me. How can I tell thee? It was as if the crust, The circumstance, exterior show of life Was broken suddenly, and I saw beneath Into the ever living true, and real. Ever living, say I, for then I knew The life of me was but the soul. The soul, Say I, who said there was no soul. All this I saw and knew in seeing that mans face. Ah friend, it is the truth we have grown gray In searching for. I heard him speak strange words, My mind as yet refuses to recall. I shall remembersome have come to me For they are writ so deep upon my life, voL. xv. 5 66 Bet14e8da. [July, Which now I call my soul, that I shall live Upon them all my days. My father worketh Hitherto, and I work, I heard him say, And when he said his Father, he meant God. They murmured at this saying, but not I, For in the splendor of new light I had I felt now possibilities arise Not new perhaps, but hidden far away And now so strong that I could almost call Jehovah Father; much more he whose look Opened mine eyes, and gave me this new birth. And more he said, of power on him conferred, And judgment, and authority, and life Given to the Sonthat is himself he means Because he is the Son of Man. Think friend! One moment said he Son of God, and then, The Son of Man. Can it be true indeed, Two natures so united in one man? Why then were solved the conflicts we now feel, The I, of me, the thou, of thee, the life Of each transmuted in the life of God! Why then the common people with their talk Of angels are more nearly right than we. Though tis in truth a bubble that disturbs The waters, tis an angel of the Lord For high and low, once joined, and in one man, There is no more nor high, nor low, but God In all. I no more marvel at his works; I had the will to help, and he the power. Tis but the natural working of the law He lives in. Thy reason staggers at this word? We know so much, is it not reasonable To think that there is more beyond to know? New law, new life, new light forever more To break upon us, till we too so utterly Are joined in soul with God. Strange were his words, Enough to ponder on a life time long The Son of MaIn, and yet the Son of God. What thinkest thou my friend, can it be true? CAROLINE HAZARD. 1889.] University Topics. 67 UNIVERSITY TOPICS. MATHEMATICAL CLUB. Dec. 4, 1888. Mr. Irving Fisher and Mr. E. F. Ayres. Some of the DeForest Problems of the last year. Feb. 12, 1889. A comparison of the electric theory of light and Sir Win. Thomsons theory of a quasi-labile ether, described in the December number of the Philosophical lPifagazine. There is a curious correspondence between these theories, the results of both being expressed by the same equations, except that the sym- bols which denote displacement in one theory must be nnderstood to denote force in the other, and vice versd. April 6, 1889. Exhibition by Mr. Abdank-Abakanowite, of his Int6graphe. By this very beautiful machine, with any given curve y =f(~r), we can at once draw the integral curve of which the ordinate is Tuesday, April 9, 1889. Mr. E. H. Moore, Concerning Six, es- pecially six points in a space of four dimensions. The aim of the paper was to refer to certain fundamental groupings of six things and to call attention to their geometric application in connection with the figure determined by any six points in a space of four dimensions. May 12. Prof. Newton presented a paper upon Tables of Mor- tality and their method of formation. He defined the terms law of mortality and talie of mortality as applied to a special group of persons, or to a community as a whole, illustrating the terms by means of various tables that have been in use for insurance or for computing the values of annuities. He then explained the

1889.] University Topics. 67 UNIVERSITY TOPICS. MATHEMATICAL CLUB. Dec. 4, 1888. Mr. Irving Fisher and Mr. E. F. Ayres. Some of the DeForest Problems of the last year. Feb. 12, 1889. A comparison of the electric theory of light and Sir Win. Thomsons theory of a quasi-labile ether, described in the December number of the Philosophical lPifagazine. There is a curious correspondence between these theories, the results of both being expressed by the same equations, except that the sym- bols which denote displacement in one theory must be nnderstood to denote force in the other, and vice versd. April 6, 1889. Exhibition by Mr. Abdank-Abakanowite, of his Int6graphe. By this very beautiful machine, with any given curve y =f(~r), we can at once draw the integral curve of which the ordinate is Tuesday, April 9, 1889. Mr. E. H. Moore, Concerning Six, es- pecially six points in a space of four dimensions. The aim of the paper was to refer to certain fundamental groupings of six things and to call attention to their geometric application in connection with the figure determined by any six points in a space of four dimensions. May 12. Prof. Newton presented a paper upon Tables of Mor- tality and their method of formation. He defined the terms law of mortality and talie of mortality as applied to a special group of persons, or to a community as a whole, illustrating the terms by means of various tables that have been in use for insurance or for computing the values of annuities. He then explained the 68 Un~ver8ity Tqpw8. [July, methods that can be used to compute a table of mortality from various kinds of data, and the precautions needed to be used to guard against error in using such data. He then presented two tables, which he bad recently computed. One was based on facts collected from Prof. Dexters Yale Biographies and Annals, and expressed the mortality experience of the graduates of Yale College of the classes 17011743. The other was based on Prof. Days Seventh General Catalogue of the Divinity School of Yale University, and expressed the mortality experi- ence after leaving the School, of the students between the years 1822 and 1888. The period covered by the later group of per- sons is more than 100 years later than the period covered by the earlier group. On comparing the two tables there appears a most remarkable difference of mortality for the ages between 45 and 70. The following comparison of the two tables will illus- trate the difference: Average annual mortality per 1000. Between the ages By Prof. Dexters Catalogue. By Prof. Days Catalogue. 45 and 50 18.0 9.2 50 55 25.8 10.0 55 60 33.8 19.6 60 65 48.6 21.0 65 70 57.2 30.4 70 75 80.0 66.4 75 80 110.8 79.0 The result may be thus expressed in words: between the ages of 45 and 70, the mortality experienced in the earlier group of lives was almost exactly double that experienced in the later group. The difference was attrl%uted to better hygiene, better food and houses and comforts, and easier living throughout the community. The difference was not believed to be in any con- siderable degree, if at all, due to difference between the groups of persons, or to their occupations. 1889.1 University Bulletin. 69 YALE UNIVERSITY BULLETIN. No. 91.WEEK ENDING JUNE 1, 1889. Sunday, May 26.Public WorshipBattell Chapel, 10.30 A. M. Rev. T. T. Munger, D.D., of the United Church. General Religious Meeting Dwight Hall, 6.30 i~. ivi. Addresses by Students from Williams Col. lege. Monday, May 27.Last Day for handing in Commencement Pieces, at 171 Farnam Hall. Tuesday, May 28.Juniors apply for College Rooms for the next year 194 Old Chapel, 9.30 A. M. Wednesday, May 29.College Faculty Meeting7 Treasury Building, 4 i. ivi. Thursday, May 30.Sophomores apply for College Rooms for the next year194 Old Chapel, 9.30 A. M. Friday, May .31.Berkeley Association (Evening Prayer)Room 89, Dwight Hall, 6.45 P. M. Lecture Preparatory to Communion Service Dwight Hall, 7.30 P. M. Annual Reception of the Art School.8 to 10 P. 1~I. Saturday, June 1.Sophomore and Junior Compositions due at No. 2 Treasury Building. Cobclen Club Essays due at 118 North College, before 12 M. Last Day for handing in Theses for Special Honors in Col- lege. College Rooms.Members of the Junior, Sophomore, and Freshman classes who wish to apply for vacant rooms on the College Square will meet the Dean in No. 194 Old Chapel, at 9.30 A. i~I., on the following days :JuniorsTuesday, May 28. SophomoresThursday, May 30. FreshmenTuesday, June 4. Yale School of the Fine Arts.The School year closes on Friday, May 31. On the same evening, from 8 to 10 oclock, the twentieth Annual Reception of the School will be held, in the Art Building; tickets of invitation are necessary for admission. No. 92.WEEK ENDING JUNE 8, 1889. Sunday, June 2.Public Worship, followed by Communion Service- Battell Chapel, 10.30 A. iVI. Rev. President Dwight. General Religious MeetingDwight Hall, 6.30 P. M. Address by Mr. Luther Gulick, of the Springfield School of Christian Workers. Monday, June 3.Examination for the Lucius F. Robinson Latin PrizesAlumni Hall, 2.30 P. M. University ReceptionDwight Hall, 8-11 1. M. Wednesday, June 5.College Recitationsclose, 4 P. M. 70 Un~ver8ity Bulletin. [July, Thursday, June 6.College Semi-Annual Examinationsbegin 8.30 A. M. Friday, June 7.Berkeley Association (Evening Prayer)Room 89, Dwight Hall, 6.45 i~. M. Political Science ClubPaper on Tammany Hall, by Mr. W. H. Seward, Jr. 195 Old Chapel, 7.30 P. M. Saturday, June 8.Philosophical Faculty Meeting7 Treasury Build- ing, 12 M. No. 93.WEEK ENDING JUNE 15, 1889. Sunday, June 9.Public WorshipBattell Chapel, 10.30 A. M. Rev. Newman Smyth, D.D., of the Center Church. General Religious Meet- ingDwight Hall, 6.30 P. M. Address by Mr. George. Monday, June 10.College Faculty Meeting7 Treasury Building, 11 A. ]~I. Friday, June 14.Berkeley Association (Evening Prayer)Room 89, Dwight Hall, 6.45 P. M. Last Day for return of books to Linonian y~nd Brothers Libary, 10 A. M. to 12 M., and 1.30 to 4 P. II. No. 94.WEEK ENDING JUNE 22, 1889. Sunday, June 16.Public WorshipBattell Chapel, 10.30 A. M. Rev. Lewellyn Pratt, D.D., of Norwich, Conn. General Religious Meeting Dwight Hall, 6.30 P. ~. Address by the Rev. Dr. Pratt. Wednesday, June 19.Last Day for return of books to the University Library, 9.30 A. M. to 5 P. M. Semi-Annual Examinations in College close, 1 P. M. Friday, June 21.Presentation Exercises of the Senior Class in Col- lege, with Oration by Hubert W. Wells, and Poem by Thomas W. BuchananBattell Chapel, 11 A. M. College Faculty Meeting7 Treas- ury Building, 2 ~. M. Saturday, June 22.Last Day for payment of bills by candidates for degreesTreasurers office, 9 A. M. to 3 P. M. DeForest Prize Speaking Battell Chapel, 10 A. M. Philosophical Faculty Meeting7 Treasury Building, 5 i~. IVI. Programme of Commencement Week. Friday, June 21, 11 A. M. Presentation Exercises of the Graduating Class of College, with the Class Oration and Poem, in the Battell Chapel, by six members of the Senior Class in College, in the following order :1. Lewis A. Storrs, on Giacomo Leopardi. 2. Ferdinand Schwill, on the solution of the race question in Austro-Hungary. 3. Herbert A. Smith, on Santa Teresa, a psychological study into the origin of Christian Mysticism. 4. Charles S. Skilton, on Giacomo Leopardi. 5. William H. Page, on Christian Mythology. 6. Gifford Pinchot, on the Quakers in the 17th Century. Sunday, June 23, 10 A. M. Baccalaureate Sermon, by the President, in the Battell Chapel. Monday, June 24, 2 r. M. Reading of Class His- tories on the College Square, followed by planting of the class ivy. S P. M. Anniversary Exercises of the Sheffield Scientific School, in North Sheffield Hall. 9 P. M. Promenade Concert of the Senior Class, in Alumni Hall. Thesday, June 25, 9.30 A. M. Meeting of the Alumni, in 1889.] Univer8ity Bmlletin. 71 Alumni Hall. 12 M. Address in Medicine, in the Chapel, by Professor Horatio C. Wood, M.D., of the University of Pennsylvania. 23 P. M. Polls open in the Library for election of a member of the Corporation. 8 P. M. Anniversary Exercises of the Law School, with Address by the Hon. Chauncey M. Depew, LL.D., of New York City, and Townsend Prize Speaking, in the Center Church, by three members of the Senior Class. Meetings will also be held, at different hours on Tuesday, of members of the College Classes of 1834, 1839, 1849, 1859, 1864, 1869, 1874, 1879, 1883, and 1886. Wednesday, June 26, 9 A. M. Commence- ment Exercises in the Center Church. 2 p. M. Dinner of the Alumni, in Alumni Hall. 8-11 i. M. Reception by the President, in the Art School. Thursday, June 27, 9 A. M. Entrance Examinations to Yale College and the Sheffield Scientific School begin. State Scholars, Sheffield Scientific School.The Board of Appointment to State Scholarships in the Sheffield Scientific School for the year 1889-90 will meet at No. 2 Sheffield Hall, on Tuesday, June 25, at 2 P. M. All applications for Scholarships should be made before that time, to Professor George J. Brush, Secretary of the Appointing Board. Library Notiee.All books belonging to the General Library of the University must be returned on or before Wednesday, June 19. Results of clollege Examinations.Members of the Junior Class in College can learn the results of their semi-annual examinations at the Deans office, on Saturday, June 22, between 3 and 4 P. M. Examinations for Admission.Examinations for admission to the Freshman class in Yale College and in the Sheffield Scientific School will be held in the following places, at the same time as in New Haven, beginning on Thursday, June 27, at 9 A. M. :Jn Concord, N. H., in the rooms of St. Pauls School; in Exeter, N. H., in the rooms of Phillips Academy; in Andover, Mass., in the rooms of Phillips Academy; in Easthampton, Mass., in the rooms of Williston Seminary; in Norwich, Conn., in the Slater Memorial Building of the Norwich Free Academy; in New York City on the fourth floor of the Young Mens Christian Association Building, 23d street, corner 4th avenue; in Albany, N. Y., in the rooms of the Albany Academy; in Auburn, N. Y., in the High School building; in Wilkes-Barre, Pa., in the rooms of the Harry Hill- man Academy; in Pittsburg, Pa., in the rooms of the Shadyside Academy; in Cincinnati, 0., in the Hughes High School building, 5th street, head of Mound; in Chicago, Ill., in the rooms of Bryants Com- mercial College, North-East corner of Wabash avenue and Washington street; in San Francisco, Cal., in the rooms of the Urban School, 1017 Hyde street; in Portland, Oregon, in the rooms of the Bishop Scott Grammar School. Awards of Prizes.Yale Gollege.Bristed Scholarship :Curtis C. Bushnell, Class of 1891. Woolsey Scholarship, Class of 1892:James W. D. Ingersoll. Hurlburt Scholarship, Class of 1892 :Alfred B. Palmer. Third Freshman Scholarship, Class of 1892:Bernard M. Allen. Win- throp Prizes, Class of 1890 :Ist Prize, Charles E. Robbins; 2d Prize, divided between Stuart H. Rowe and David Scharps. Scott Prize in French, Class of 1890 :Walter A. DeCamp. DeForest Mathematical 72 Univer8ity Bulletin. [July, Prizes :Senior Mathematical Prizes, 1st Prize, not awarded; 2d Prize, Edward B. Hinckley. Class of 1890, 1st Prize, Albert C. Crehore; 2d Prize, Charles B. Bliss. Class of 1891, 2d Prize, Lyle A. Dickey, and Hippolyte W. Gruener. Class of 1892, 1st Prizes, Henry G. Crocker and George H. Girty; 2d Prizes, Bernard M. Allen and George R. Mont- gomery. Composition Prizes, Class of 1891 :lst Prizes, John J. Cox, Howard T. Kingsbury, Ray B. Smith; 2d Prizes, Grosvenor Atterbury, James W. Broatch, Harry H. Tweedy; 3d Prizes, Francis T. Brown, Hampton P. Howell, Robert G. McClung, Edward A. Thurber. Decla- mation Prizes, Class of 1891 :lst Prize, Francis T. Brown; 2d Prize, Frank Crawford; 3d Prize, Allan G. Robinson. Berkeley Premiums, Class of 1892 :lst Grade, Bernard M. Allen, Henry G. Crocker, Henry B. Hinckley, James W. D. Ingersoll, Alfred B. Palmer; 2d Grade, Fred C. G. Bronson, William L. Kitchel, Paul Klimpke, Arthur W. Shaw, James E. Wheeler, Albert L. Whittaker. Winthrop Prize SubjectsYale College.The subjects for the Win- throp Prize examination in the Class of 1891 are as follows :Greek: AeschylusAgamemnon, Qho~phorae, and Eumenides; Pindar The Olympian Odes. Latin: TerenceAdelphi; LucretiusBook IlL; VergilThe Georgics. No. 95WEEK ENDING JUNE 29, 1889. Sunday, June 23.Public WorshipBattell Chapel, 10.30 A. M. Bac- calaureate Sermon by the President. (The Senior Class meet at the Lyceum, at 10.15 punctually.) Praise ServiceBattell Chapel, 7.80 P. M. (Tickets at Treasurers Office,) Monday, June 24.Reading of Class HistoriesCollege Square, 2 P. M.; followed by planting of the Class Ivy. Sheffield Scientific School Anniversary ExercisesNorth Sheffield Hall, 8 P. M. Promenade Con- certof the Senior ClassAlumni Hall, 9 P. M. Thesday, June 25.Meeting of the AlumniAlumni Hall, 9.30 A. M. Address in Medicine, by Professor HORATIO C. WooD, M.D., LL.D., of the University of PenusylvaniaBattell Chapel, 12 M. Appointing Board for State Scholarships in the Sheffield Scientific School2 Shef- field Hall, 2 P.M. Election of member of the CorporationLibrary, 2-3 P.M. Law School Anniversary Exercises, with address by the Hon. CHAIJNcEY M. DEPEw, of New York City, and Townsend Prize Speak- ing by three members of the Senior ClassCenter Church, 3 P.M. Wednesday, June 26. Commencement Exercises Center Church. The Officers of the University, with graduates, undergraduates, and in- vited guests, will form in procession in front of the Lyceum, at 9 A.~., in the following order :Music; Undergraduates; Candidates for de- grees, (1) in Arts, (2) in Philosophy, (3) in Law (4) in Medicine, (5) in Divinity; the Corporation; the Faculty; Invited Guests; Graduates, in the Order of Classes. Dinner of the AlumniAlumni Hall, 2 P.M. Presidents Reception, for the Alumni, with their families, and other invited guestsArt School, 811 P.M. (Cards of admission for the Al- umni, at the Library, after Tuesday noon.) 188 9.] Uhiversity Bulletin. 73 Thursday, June 27.Examinations for Admission to the College Alumni Hall, beginning at 9 A.M. Examinations for Admission to the Sheffield Scientific SchoolNorth Sheffield Hall, begining at 9 A.M. Examination for Matriculation in the Medical DepartmentMedical School, 150 York street, beginning at 9 A.M. Saturday, June 29.Examinations for Admission close, 12 M. Vacation Hours-The General Library of the University will be open daily through July from 10 A.M. to 1 P.M. The Linonian and Brothers Library will be open during vacation on Wednesdays and Saturdays, only, from 10 AM. to 12 M. The Treasurers Office will be open, daily, from 10 A.M. to 1 P.M. The Exhibition of Paintings in the Art School, will be open, daily, from 9 A.M. to 6 P.M. (Fee for admission, 25 cents.) The Collections in the Peabody museum will be open, daily, from 9 A.M. to 5 P.M., except during August, when the building will be closed. The other Buildings of the University will be closed during the vaca- tion. 74 Current Literature. [July, CURRENT LITERATURE. ROWLAND HAZARDS WoRKs.*~The biographical preface to these volumes, written by their editor, the grand-daughter of the author, truly maintains that they contain the record of his intel- lectual and spiritual life, in an unusual degree. The family from which he was descended had inhabited for generations the house in which he was born. With the exception of business trips to the South and elsewhere, and several visits to Europe, Mr. Hazards life was domestic and uneventful. His rather remarka- ble fund of reserve energies was expended in meditation, corres- pondence, and composition, upon the themes treated in these volumes. The interest felt in the themes was fresh, vigorous, naive, self-impelled and self-directed. His education at school seems to have been finished when he was scarcely eighteen, and to have included only the rudiments of English among the lan- guages. Yet he early essayed the expression of his sentiments in verse, and his writings contain various references to characters and events of the ancient classics. At the age of thirty-two Mr. Hazard began to write his first essay,the one On Language. Its most important result was perhaps the formation of a friendship with Dr. Channing. It was the suggestion of Dr. Channing that Mr. Hazard should refute the arguments of Edwards, and the dislike of refusing the request of one so much revered, led to the investiga- tion of the question of freedom and causation in willing, to the correspondence and controversy with Stuart Mill, 4nd so to the work which constitutes whatever claim Mr. flazard has to a per- manent place in the philosophical literature of this country. Since the writings in these volumes cover so many years and comprise such a vari6ty of subjects, it is to be expected that they will differ considerably in value. Those in the volume entitled Essay on Language are plainly the least valuable. * Essay on Language, etc.; Economics and Politics; Freedom of Mind in Willing; Causation and Freedom in Willing. Four vols. By ROWLAND G. HAZARD. Edited by CAROLINE HAZARD. Boston and New York. Houghton, Muffin & Co. 1889.

74 Current Literature. [July, CURRENT LITERATURE. ROWLAND HAZARDS WoRKs.*~The biographical preface to these volumes, written by their editor, the grand-daughter of the author, truly maintains that they contain the record of his intel- lectual and spiritual life, in an unusual degree. The family from which he was descended had inhabited for generations the house in which he was born. With the exception of business trips to the South and elsewhere, and several visits to Europe, Mr. Hazards life was domestic and uneventful. His rather remarka- ble fund of reserve energies was expended in meditation, corres- pondence, and composition, upon the themes treated in these volumes. The interest felt in the themes was fresh, vigorous, naive, self-impelled and self-directed. His education at school seems to have been finished when he was scarcely eighteen, and to have included only the rudiments of English among the lan- guages. Yet he early essayed the expression of his sentiments in verse, and his writings contain various references to characters and events of the ancient classics. At the age of thirty-two Mr. Hazard began to write his first essay,the one On Language. Its most important result was perhaps the formation of a friendship with Dr. Channing. It was the suggestion of Dr. Channing that Mr. Hazard should refute the arguments of Edwards, and the dislike of refusing the request of one so much revered, led to the investiga- tion of the question of freedom and causation in willing, to the correspondence and controversy with Stuart Mill, 4nd so to the work which constitutes whatever claim Mr. flazard has to a per- manent place in the philosophical literature of this country. Since the writings in these volumes cover so many years and comprise such a vari6ty of subjects, it is to be expected that they will differ considerably in value. Those in the volume entitled Essay on Language are plainly the least valuable. * Essay on Language, etc.; Economics and Politics; Freedom of Mind in Willing; Causation and Freedom in Willing. Four vols. By ROWLAND G. HAZARD. Edited by CAROLINE HAZARD. Boston and New York. Houghton, Muffin & Co. 1889. 1889.1 Current Literature. 75 The various papers and addresses on political and economical subjects are vigorous and clear-headed. The last paper of the volume on Economics and Politics was written when its author was in his eighty-fifth year; it is a fragmentary article on the Tariff (now first published). We recommend its perusal as especially interestingcoming, as it does, from a manufacturer of Rhode Island. It did not require, say Mr. Hazard (p. 391), the results of actual experiment to warn us that a central power of taxation by duties on imports covering an extensive territory, the habits and pursuits in different portions of which materially vary the relative consumption of the articles imported, would even if restricted to the one object of defraying the legitimate expenses of the general government, be liable to great abuse and be a constant source of anxiety and suspicion. But embracing in this power the power of taxation for the purpose of protecting special industries with diverse sectional interests, must certainly open the way to an increase of those abuses to which there would be no visible limit. No wonder that thoughtful and intelligent men with clear vision of the possibilities of such an addition to the taxing power should be alarmed, or that the less intelligent should be excited. The philosophical writings of Mr. Hazard are here all collected in two of the four volumes, and are almost exclusively upon the one subject of causation and freedom of mind in willing. They have a separate introductory essay by Professor Fisher. Of these, one volume is the well-known treatise written in refuta- tion of Edwards; the other contains letters to John Stuart Mill, and to Dr. F. Wharton; and also various discourses and papers. The candor and ability of these productions were recognized by his opponents, and among them all by none more cordially than by Mr. Mill himself. The latter, in a letter bearing date of May 18, 1870, speaks of the book as doing honor to American thought. The manner of discussing the question of freedom and causa- tion in willing has changed since the days of Edwards, and even since the time when Mr. Hazard and Mr. Milltwo contestants equally fair and equally fond of detailed and exhaustive argumenta- tionwere exchanging correspondence concerning the merits of both sides. Both sides and the same mystery of apparent sepa ration remain. Progress has taken place, however, in the better nnderstanding of the truth that each side holds, and in the fixing 70 Current Literature. [July, of the lines to be drawn about the problem, to the exclusion from its explanation of what must be acknowledged as in its very nature inexplicable. We wish success of widening circulation to these volumes. We wish even more, that the nation might possess more manufac- turers and other business men, who should hold with their author, that the only true life is intellectual and spiritual life. ILoGIc.*~We are here presented with one of the most extended and valuable of the many works on this subject, which have pro- ceeded from Oxford, during the last several years. As the editor in their English form of Lotzes larger and technical works on philosophy, it is but fitting that Mr. Bosanquet shonld be under obligations to the German thinker. These obligations he acknowl- edges in the preface by saying that but for his (Lotzes) great work on Logic the larger part of what I have written would never have come into my head. Yet after this and other recog- nition to predecessors in the same field (to Sigwart, and Jevons, and Bradley, and Stnart Millwith a bare mention, especially, of ilegel also), the author establishes a claim to independence and to a larger than the ordinary amount of originality. The leading and underlying principle of the book is the concep- tion of thought as a living development. In the study of thought, then, we are dealing not with fixed forms, but with processes of perpetual mental unfolding. Mr. Bosanquet tells us that the first germs of unprejudiced interest in the subject were planted in his mind by a comparison between the study and analysis of judg- ment-forms and the study and analysis of the forms of flowers or plants. Readers of works on logic will miss in this book the customary separate part, treating at length of conception and concepts. There are only two Parts to this work,the one of The Judg- ment, and the other of Inference. What is most directly said of the mental process and product, ordinarily called con- ception, is placed in the Introduction. Instead of divisions and classifications and symbols, creating the impression that somehow there exist in, or can be brought into, the mind a peculiar class of mental entities which, as then and there existent, have marks and content and extent, etc., the emphasis is laid upon the evolution * Logic, or The Morphology of Knowledge. By BERNARD BOSANQUET, M.A. ? vols. New York and London. Macmillan & Co. 1888.

70 Current Literature. [July, of the lines to be drawn about the problem, to the exclusion from its explanation of what must be acknowledged as in its very nature inexplicable. We wish success of widening circulation to these volumes. We wish even more, that the nation might possess more manufac- turers and other business men, who should hold with their author, that the only true life is intellectual and spiritual life. ILoGIc.*~We are here presented with one of the most extended and valuable of the many works on this subject, which have pro- ceeded from Oxford, during the last several years. As the editor in their English form of Lotzes larger and technical works on philosophy, it is but fitting that Mr. Bosanquet shonld be under obligations to the German thinker. These obligations he acknowl- edges in the preface by saying that but for his (Lotzes) great work on Logic the larger part of what I have written would never have come into my head. Yet after this and other recog- nition to predecessors in the same field (to Sigwart, and Jevons, and Bradley, and Stnart Millwith a bare mention, especially, of ilegel also), the author establishes a claim to independence and to a larger than the ordinary amount of originality. The leading and underlying principle of the book is the concep- tion of thought as a living development. In the study of thought, then, we are dealing not with fixed forms, but with processes of perpetual mental unfolding. Mr. Bosanquet tells us that the first germs of unprejudiced interest in the subject were planted in his mind by a comparison between the study and analysis of judg- ment-forms and the study and analysis of the forms of flowers or plants. Readers of works on logic will miss in this book the customary separate part, treating at length of conception and concepts. There are only two Parts to this work,the one of The Judg- ment, and the other of Inference. What is most directly said of the mental process and product, ordinarily called con- ception, is placed in the Introduction. Instead of divisions and classifications and symbols, creating the impression that somehow there exist in, or can be brought into, the mind a peculiar class of mental entities which, as then and there existent, have marks and content and extent, etc., the emphasis is laid upon the evolution * Logic, or The Morphology of Knowledge. By BERNARD BOSANQUET, M.A. ? vols. New York and London. Macmillan & Co. 1888. 1889.] Current Literature. 77 of judgment. We have then judgment or some analogous operation of consciousness, from the first; and in naming and all subsequent operations we certainly have judgment. Judgment may contain complex ideas, but every Judgment qua Judgment exhibits the content of a single idea. Ideas and impressions are not found lying apart as words lie on a page, although, by a reflective abstraction, we can regard them as so lying apart, and when thus regarded they form the world of meanings or of objec- tive referencesthe identities symbolized by logical ideas. In this form of treating the concept we consider the author justified. Psychology recognizes no really existing and living processes corresponding to the petrified entities that formal logic has been wont to treat under the term conception. We wish, however, that Mr. Bosanquet had presented more in detail the nature of those living ideation processes, accompanied by the un- folding of judgments as supported by unuttered language, in which the so-called general notion has its only real existence. We have not space even to mention any of the many other interesting points for consideration and criticism which this book affords. It is not a book for beginners; it is not exactly a text- book for advanced pupils, or a hand-book for studious inquirers. But it is certainly a very suggestive and interesting treatise for those maturer minds, who, being disturbed or perhaps disgusted by the uncouthness and foreign character of the descriptions given of their mental processes by the ordinary writings on logic, wish to get some increase of insight into what really goes on in their own minds as they judge and infer the truth of things. VIcToR CousIN.*~This biographical sketch has several features of more than ordinary interest. Its subject was not simply illustrious in his time, but had enough of the romantic in his origin, his career, and the setting in the midst of which his career was run, to give his story a certain interest for all time. The author of the sketch is also illustrious. In speak- ing of M. Cousin, Jules Simon says: He immortalized his name by great services and brilliant works; but those who did not live in his time cannot imagine what a noise he made in the world while here. Victor Cousin was very far from being a great philosopher. The times and land in which he lived were such as almost, if not * Victor Cousin. By JuLEs SIMON. Translated by Melville B. and Edward Playfair Anderson. Chicago. A. C. McClurg & Co. 1888.

1889.] Current Literature. 77 of judgment. We have then judgment or some analogous operation of consciousness, from the first; and in naming and all subsequent operations we certainly have judgment. Judgment may contain complex ideas, but every Judgment qua Judgment exhibits the content of a single idea. Ideas and impressions are not found lying apart as words lie on a page, although, by a reflective abstraction, we can regard them as so lying apart, and when thus regarded they form the world of meanings or of objec- tive referencesthe identities symbolized by logical ideas. In this form of treating the concept we consider the author justified. Psychology recognizes no really existing and living processes corresponding to the petrified entities that formal logic has been wont to treat under the term conception. We wish, however, that Mr. Bosanquet had presented more in detail the nature of those living ideation processes, accompanied by the un- folding of judgments as supported by unuttered language, in which the so-called general notion has its only real existence. We have not space even to mention any of the many other interesting points for consideration and criticism which this book affords. It is not a book for beginners; it is not exactly a text- book for advanced pupils, or a hand-book for studious inquirers. But it is certainly a very suggestive and interesting treatise for those maturer minds, who, being disturbed or perhaps disgusted by the uncouthness and foreign character of the descriptions given of their mental processes by the ordinary writings on logic, wish to get some increase of insight into what really goes on in their own minds as they judge and infer the truth of things. VIcToR CousIN.*~This biographical sketch has several features of more than ordinary interest. Its subject was not simply illustrious in his time, but had enough of the romantic in his origin, his career, and the setting in the midst of which his career was run, to give his story a certain interest for all time. The author of the sketch is also illustrious. In speak- ing of M. Cousin, Jules Simon says: He immortalized his name by great services and brilliant works; but those who did not live in his time cannot imagine what a noise he made in the world while here. Victor Cousin was very far from being a great philosopher. The times and land in which he lived were such as almost, if not * Victor Cousin. By JuLEs SIMON. Translated by Melville B. and Edward Playfair Anderson. Chicago. A. C. McClurg & Co. 1888. 78 (Jitrrent Liz~erctture. [July, quite, to make such a character impossible. But he stirred a a great interest in philosophy, and was in many ways an important and valuable person for the France of his day. His family were poor working people; and his biographer declares him to have been bred in the gutter up to the age of ten. It was by taking the part of her boy, maltreated by a mob of other boys, that this street urchin of eleven came to the notice of Madame Viguier, who paid his expenses, thereupon, in the Charlemagne Lyceum. M. Simon has told the story of Victor Cousins life in a very entertaining manner; from a privileged point of view, as it were and has made it luminous in the light of its time. He has, more- over, in one chapter given a clear and intelligent resum6 of the philosophical tenets of Cousin. The result is a spicy, and yet, on the whole, a trustworthy estimate of the personality and work of this rather prominent but by no means profound thinker. MASKs OR FACES ?*~A very clever and instructive examina- tion is here undertaken with a view to answer the question raised in Diderots paradox. This paradox maintains that real sensibility is a hindrance rather than a help to the studied simulation which is the actors part. By ransacking the memoirs and correspondence of great actors no longer living, and by inquiry of those now most celebrated in this art, the author tests the conclusions of Diderot. He finds, to the confusion of the paradox, that tears of emotion have been shed on the stage by some two score of the most successfnl simulators of grief; that a smaller proportion of those who play comedy will indulge in genuine laughter; that signs of feeling beyond the control of willblushing, pallor, and prespirationcommonly, and even habitually, accompany the stage emotion of the greatest artists ; and that spontaneous outbursts of passion expressed in unex- pected ways are frequently most effective. To those interested in the psychology of acting, as studied from whatever points of view, the induction will be very helpful and attractive. PICTURE LoGrc.fBy combining humorous pictures with home- ly or comic examples, the author aims to give to the Oxford or * .J[asks or Faces? A study in the Psychology of Acting. By WILLIAM ARCHER. London and New York. Longmans, Green & Co., 1888. j Picture Logic. An attempt to popularize the Science of Reasoning by the com- bination of humorous Pictures with examples of Reasoning taken from daily Life. By ALFRED JAMES SWINBURNE, B.A. London and New York. Long- mans, Green & Co., 188T.

78 (Jitrrent Liz~erctture. [July, quite, to make such a character impossible. But he stirred a a great interest in philosophy, and was in many ways an important and valuable person for the France of his day. His family were poor working people; and his biographer declares him to have been bred in the gutter up to the age of ten. It was by taking the part of her boy, maltreated by a mob of other boys, that this street urchin of eleven came to the notice of Madame Viguier, who paid his expenses, thereupon, in the Charlemagne Lyceum. M. Simon has told the story of Victor Cousins life in a very entertaining manner; from a privileged point of view, as it were and has made it luminous in the light of its time. He has, more- over, in one chapter given a clear and intelligent resum6 of the philosophical tenets of Cousin. The result is a spicy, and yet, on the whole, a trustworthy estimate of the personality and work of this rather prominent but by no means profound thinker. MASKs OR FACES ?*~A very clever and instructive examina- tion is here undertaken with a view to answer the question raised in Diderots paradox. This paradox maintains that real sensibility is a hindrance rather than a help to the studied simulation which is the actors part. By ransacking the memoirs and correspondence of great actors no longer living, and by inquiry of those now most celebrated in this art, the author tests the conclusions of Diderot. He finds, to the confusion of the paradox, that tears of emotion have been shed on the stage by some two score of the most successfnl simulators of grief; that a smaller proportion of those who play comedy will indulge in genuine laughter; that signs of feeling beyond the control of willblushing, pallor, and prespirationcommonly, and even habitually, accompany the stage emotion of the greatest artists ; and that spontaneous outbursts of passion expressed in unex- pected ways are frequently most effective. To those interested in the psychology of acting, as studied from whatever points of view, the induction will be very helpful and attractive. PICTURE LoGrc.fBy combining humorous pictures with home- ly or comic examples, the author aims to give to the Oxford or * .J[asks or Faces? A study in the Psychology of Acting. By WILLIAM ARCHER. London and New York. Longmans, Green & Co., 1888. j Picture Logic. An attempt to popularize the Science of Reasoning by the com- bination of humorous Pictures with examples of Reasoning taken from daily Life. By ALFRED JAMES SWINBURNE, B.A. London and New York. Long- mans, Green & Co., 188T.

78 (Jitrrent Liz~erctture. [July, quite, to make such a character impossible. But he stirred a a great interest in philosophy, and was in many ways an important and valuable person for the France of his day. His family were poor working people; and his biographer declares him to have been bred in the gutter up to the age of ten. It was by taking the part of her boy, maltreated by a mob of other boys, that this street urchin of eleven came to the notice of Madame Viguier, who paid his expenses, thereupon, in the Charlemagne Lyceum. M. Simon has told the story of Victor Cousins life in a very entertaining manner; from a privileged point of view, as it were and has made it luminous in the light of its time. He has, more- over, in one chapter given a clear and intelligent resum6 of the philosophical tenets of Cousin. The result is a spicy, and yet, on the whole, a trustworthy estimate of the personality and work of this rather prominent but by no means profound thinker. MASKs OR FACES ?*~A very clever and instructive examina- tion is here undertaken with a view to answer the question raised in Diderots paradox. This paradox maintains that real sensibility is a hindrance rather than a help to the studied simulation which is the actors part. By ransacking the memoirs and correspondence of great actors no longer living, and by inquiry of those now most celebrated in this art, the author tests the conclusions of Diderot. He finds, to the confusion of the paradox, that tears of emotion have been shed on the stage by some two score of the most successfnl simulators of grief; that a smaller proportion of those who play comedy will indulge in genuine laughter; that signs of feeling beyond the control of willblushing, pallor, and prespirationcommonly, and even habitually, accompany the stage emotion of the greatest artists ; and that spontaneous outbursts of passion expressed in unex- pected ways are frequently most effective. To those interested in the psychology of acting, as studied from whatever points of view, the induction will be very helpful and attractive. PICTURE LoGrc.fBy combining humorous pictures with home- ly or comic examples, the author aims to give to the Oxford or * .J[asks or Faces? A study in the Psychology of Acting. By WILLIAM ARCHER. London and New York. Longmans, Green & Co., 1888. j Picture Logic. An attempt to popularize the Science of Reasoning by the com- bination of humorous Pictures with examples of Reasoning taken from daily Life. By ALFRED JAMES SWINBURNE, B.A. London and New York. Long- mans, Green & Co., 188T. 1889.1 Current Literature. 79 Cambridge student, who has to pass in Logic, some lively comprehension of what this mystical science and yet more mys- tical art is all about. Much shrewd sense is mingled with the facetiousness. We do not see why poor students might not make very profitable use of the books to lighten their cram,~~ and good ones to brighten a leisure hour or two while refreshing their memories. FOSTERS TRANSLATION OF GEOTIUS ON TIlE SATISFACTION OF CHRIST* serves a useful purpose for students of theology in plac- ing before them a discussion of the Atonement which has pro- foundly influenced theological thought and which takes rank as a classic on that great theme. Grotius treatise contains an inter- pretation of redemption in terms of jurisprudence, as Anseims had done in terms of payment or compensation. These modes of thought doubtless supply useful elements for the doctrine of atonement, but, when made the exclusive mode of treatment, they fail more and more to satisfy thoughtful minds, of varying schools, who seek to ground the work of atonement rather in the moral nature of God and the eternal principles of his righteous- ness and love, than in exigencies of government. But, whatever may be thought of the merits of the governmental theory, it is certainly most desirable to have this theory as elaborated by its author, available in a hand-book with carefully prepared notes, scripture references, index, and a learned introduction such as Dr. Foster has supplied. Some scholar would do a good service to theology who should publish in a similar form the treatise of Anselm, Cur .Deus Homo. MEN OF THE BIBLE SERIEs.fThe careful reading of Canon Drivers monograph on Isaiah in this series led us to expect a marked interest and value in the successive volumes, and in this we have not been disappointed. These little books are at once popular, in the sense of placing the results of research and criti- cism before the reader in an interesting form, and scholarly in the * A Defense of the Catholic Doctrine concerning the Satisfaction of Christ against Faustus Socinus, by HUGO Gnovrus. Translated, with Notes and an Historical Introduction by FRANK H. FOsTER, Ph.D., Professor in the Theological Seminary at Oberlin, 0. Andover, W. F. Draper, 1889. Pp. 314. t Jesus Christ, the Divine 3fan, His Life and Times. By J. F. YALLINGS, MA. Pp. 226.Daniel, His Life and Times. By H. DEANE, B.D. Pp. 203.Jeremiah, His Life and Times. By Rev. T. K. CHEYNE, D.D. Pp. 205.Anson D. F. Ran- dolph & Co., New York. 1889. $1.00 each.

1889.1 Current Literature. 79 Cambridge student, who has to pass in Logic, some lively comprehension of what this mystical science and yet more mys- tical art is all about. Much shrewd sense is mingled with the facetiousness. We do not see why poor students might not make very profitable use of the books to lighten their cram,~~ and good ones to brighten a leisure hour or two while refreshing their memories. FOSTERS TRANSLATION OF GEOTIUS ON TIlE SATISFACTION OF CHRIST* serves a useful purpose for students of theology in plac- ing before them a discussion of the Atonement which has pro- foundly influenced theological thought and which takes rank as a classic on that great theme. Grotius treatise contains an inter- pretation of redemption in terms of jurisprudence, as Anseims had done in terms of payment or compensation. These modes of thought doubtless supply useful elements for the doctrine of atonement, but, when made the exclusive mode of treatment, they fail more and more to satisfy thoughtful minds, of varying schools, who seek to ground the work of atonement rather in the moral nature of God and the eternal principles of his righteous- ness and love, than in exigencies of government. But, whatever may be thought of the merits of the governmental theory, it is certainly most desirable to have this theory as elaborated by its author, available in a hand-book with carefully prepared notes, scripture references, index, and a learned introduction such as Dr. Foster has supplied. Some scholar would do a good service to theology who should publish in a similar form the treatise of Anselm, Cur .Deus Homo. MEN OF THE BIBLE SERIEs.fThe careful reading of Canon Drivers monograph on Isaiah in this series led us to expect a marked interest and value in the successive volumes, and in this we have not been disappointed. These little books are at once popular, in the sense of placing the results of research and criti- cism before the reader in an interesting form, and scholarly in the * A Defense of the Catholic Doctrine concerning the Satisfaction of Christ against Faustus Socinus, by HUGO Gnovrus. Translated, with Notes and an Historical Introduction by FRANK H. FOsTER, Ph.D., Professor in the Theological Seminary at Oberlin, 0. Andover, W. F. Draper, 1889. Pp. 314. t Jesus Christ, the Divine 3fan, His Life and Times. By J. F. YALLINGS, MA. Pp. 226.Daniel, His Life and Times. By H. DEANE, B.D. Pp. 203.Jeremiah, His Life and Times. By Rev. T. K. CHEYNE, D.D. Pp. 205.Anson D. F. Ran- dolph & Co., New York. 1889. $1.00 each.

1889.1 Current Literature. 79 Cambridge student, who has to pass in Logic, some lively comprehension of what this mystical science and yet more mys- tical art is all about. Much shrewd sense is mingled with the facetiousness. We do not see why poor students might not make very profitable use of the books to lighten their cram,~~ and good ones to brighten a leisure hour or two while refreshing their memories. FOSTERS TRANSLATION OF GEOTIUS ON TIlE SATISFACTION OF CHRIST* serves a useful purpose for students of theology in plac- ing before them a discussion of the Atonement which has pro- foundly influenced theological thought and which takes rank as a classic on that great theme. Grotius treatise contains an inter- pretation of redemption in terms of jurisprudence, as Anseims had done in terms of payment or compensation. These modes of thought doubtless supply useful elements for the doctrine of atonement, but, when made the exclusive mode of treatment, they fail more and more to satisfy thoughtful minds, of varying schools, who seek to ground the work of atonement rather in the moral nature of God and the eternal principles of his righteous- ness and love, than in exigencies of government. But, whatever may be thought of the merits of the governmental theory, it is certainly most desirable to have this theory as elaborated by its author, available in a hand-book with carefully prepared notes, scripture references, index, and a learned introduction such as Dr. Foster has supplied. Some scholar would do a good service to theology who should publish in a similar form the treatise of Anselm, Cur .Deus Homo. MEN OF THE BIBLE SERIEs.fThe careful reading of Canon Drivers monograph on Isaiah in this series led us to expect a marked interest and value in the successive volumes, and in this we have not been disappointed. These little books are at once popular, in the sense of placing the results of research and criti- cism before the reader in an interesting form, and scholarly in the * A Defense of the Catholic Doctrine concerning the Satisfaction of Christ against Faustus Socinus, by HUGO Gnovrus. Translated, with Notes and an Historical Introduction by FRANK H. FOsTER, Ph.D., Professor in the Theological Seminary at Oberlin, 0. Andover, W. F. Draper, 1889. Pp. 314. t Jesus Christ, the Divine 3fan, His Life and Times. By J. F. YALLINGS, MA. Pp. 226.Daniel, His Life and Times. By H. DEANE, B.D. Pp. 203.Jeremiah, His Life and Times. By Rev. T. K. CHEYNE, D.D. Pp. 205.Anson D. F. Ran- dolph & Co., New York. 1889. $1.00 each.

1889.1 Current Literature. 79 Cambridge student, who has to pass in Logic, some lively comprehension of what this mystical science and yet more mys- tical art is all about. Much shrewd sense is mingled with the facetiousness. We do not see why poor students might not make very profitable use of the books to lighten their cram,~~ and good ones to brighten a leisure hour or two while refreshing their memories. FOSTERS TRANSLATION OF GEOTIUS ON TIlE SATISFACTION OF CHRIST* serves a useful purpose for students of theology in plac- ing before them a discussion of the Atonement which has pro- foundly influenced theological thought and which takes rank as a classic on that great theme. Grotius treatise contains an inter- pretation of redemption in terms of jurisprudence, as Anseims had done in terms of payment or compensation. These modes of thought doubtless supply useful elements for the doctrine of atonement, but, when made the exclusive mode of treatment, they fail more and more to satisfy thoughtful minds, of varying schools, who seek to ground the work of atonement rather in the moral nature of God and the eternal principles of his righteous- ness and love, than in exigencies of government. But, whatever may be thought of the merits of the governmental theory, it is certainly most desirable to have this theory as elaborated by its author, available in a hand-book with carefully prepared notes, scripture references, index, and a learned introduction such as Dr. Foster has supplied. Some scholar would do a good service to theology who should publish in a similar form the treatise of Anselm, Cur .Deus Homo. MEN OF THE BIBLE SERIEs.fThe careful reading of Canon Drivers monograph on Isaiah in this series led us to expect a marked interest and value in the successive volumes, and in this we have not been disappointed. These little books are at once popular, in the sense of placing the results of research and criti- cism before the reader in an interesting form, and scholarly in the * A Defense of the Catholic Doctrine concerning the Satisfaction of Christ against Faustus Socinus, by HUGO Gnovrus. Translated, with Notes and an Historical Introduction by FRANK H. FOsTER, Ph.D., Professor in the Theological Seminary at Oberlin, 0. Andover, W. F. Draper, 1889. Pp. 314. t Jesus Christ, the Divine 3fan, His Life and Times. By J. F. YALLINGS, MA. Pp. 226.Daniel, His Life and Times. By H. DEANE, B.D. Pp. 203.Jeremiah, His Life and Times. By Rev. T. K. CHEYNE, D.D. Pp. 205.Anson D. F. Ran- dolph & Co., New York. 1889. $1.00 each.

1889.1 Current Literature. 79 Cambridge student, who has to pass in Logic, some lively comprehension of what this mystical science and yet more mys- tical art is all about. Much shrewd sense is mingled with the facetiousness. We do not see why poor students might not make very profitable use of the books to lighten their cram,~~ and good ones to brighten a leisure hour or two while refreshing their memories. FOSTERS TRANSLATION OF GEOTIUS ON TIlE SATISFACTION OF CHRIST* serves a useful purpose for students of theology in plac- ing before them a discussion of the Atonement which has pro- foundly influenced theological thought and which takes rank as a classic on that great theme. Grotius treatise contains an inter- pretation of redemption in terms of jurisprudence, as Anseims had done in terms of payment or compensation. These modes of thought doubtless supply useful elements for the doctrine of atonement, but, when made the exclusive mode of treatment, they fail more and more to satisfy thoughtful minds, of varying schools, who seek to ground the work of atonement rather in the moral nature of God and the eternal principles of his righteous- ness and love, than in exigencies of government. But, whatever may be thought of the merits of the governmental theory, it is certainly most desirable to have this theory as elaborated by its author, available in a hand-book with carefully prepared notes, scripture references, index, and a learned introduction such as Dr. Foster has supplied. Some scholar would do a good service to theology who should publish in a similar form the treatise of Anselm, Cur .Deus Homo. MEN OF THE BIBLE SERIEs.fThe careful reading of Canon Drivers monograph on Isaiah in this series led us to expect a marked interest and value in the successive volumes, and in this we have not been disappointed. These little books are at once popular, in the sense of placing the results of research and criti- cism before the reader in an interesting form, and scholarly in the * A Defense of the Catholic Doctrine concerning the Satisfaction of Christ against Faustus Socinus, by HUGO Gnovrus. Translated, with Notes and an Historical Introduction by FRANK H. FOsTER, Ph.D., Professor in the Theological Seminary at Oberlin, 0. Andover, W. F. Draper, 1889. Pp. 314. t Jesus Christ, the Divine 3fan, His Life and Times. By J. F. YALLINGS, MA. Pp. 226.Daniel, His Life and Times. By H. DEANE, B.D. Pp. 203.Jeremiah, His Life and Times. By Rev. T. K. CHEYNE, D.D. Pp. 205.Anson D. F. Ran- dolph & Co., New York. 1889. $1.00 each. 80 Current Literature. [July. sense of incorporating the conclusions of much study into the biographies of the great personalities of the Bible without placing before the reader the processes by which they were attained. Mr. Vallings sketch of the life and times of Jesus is a graphic narrative of his deeds and teachings, interwoven with descriptions of the religious and social conditions amid which he lived. It is a vivid presentation of that matchless Person whose life, says Keim, was bounded at its circumference by the human limita- tions of his age, but in its center exalted above all. The volume is enriched by abundant learning and by references to the ablest works on special topics. Mr. Deanes book is based upon academic lectures, and is com- posed in a less rhetorical style. The writer appears to follow Dr. Puseys work on Daniel in great part. His views of the Book of Daniel are certainly far removed from the conclusions of most recent critics. He holds that it was written by one author throughout, a certain Exilian prophet, Daniel, a contemporary of Ezekiel, who lived from the years 606530 B. C. To Dr. Cheynes treatise on Jeremiah we accord the highest value for its thorough and judicious criticism, its felicitous style and extensive erudition. There are few men who can invest the most difficult problems of Old Testament history and interpreta- tion with such living interest as that which Cheyne imparts to these subjects. He is a writer as graceful and felicitous as Dean Stanley, whom he s~ much admires and so often quotes, while he is far more profoundly versed in Old Testament criticism. Illus- trations drawn from a wide range of reading, and comparisons between the conditions existing in Jewish history and other his- torical situations, enliven the picture of ancient times and make it seem more real. We call especial attention to the apt com- parison of Jeremiah to Savonarola at the end of the volume. We commend the volumes of this series as useful contributions to the popularization of the results of Biblical scholarshipa ten- dency and movement of our time of the utmost interest and promise. GEORGE B. STEVENS.

NEW ENGLANDER AND YALE REVIEW. No. CCXXXIII. AUGUST, 1889. ARTICLE 1.GEORGE MEREDITH AS A THEORIST. IN the essays evoked during the last thirty years by George Merediths books, attention has been called either to his powers as a remarkable stylist, a writer of brilliant epigrams and de- scriptions, a master of strongly intellectual characterization, and a humorist; or else to his protracted studies, overcrowded with observations and ideas, and to what some are pleased to call his hard, unsympathetic analyses of life. But for some, at least, who have found time to think their way through his nine long novels, the name of Meredith must have assumed an agnomen of the theorist rather than the novelist. Enjoy- ing his books and admiring even with enthusiasm his ability in fiction, some of us in spite of our wishes may apprehend that a combination of qualities will keep him from entering the inner circle of distinction that parts of his work have given him ample claim to. Yet Vanity never puts on cap and bells more childishly than when she tries to settle literary destiny for her own contemporaries. Whether Meredith is to be ulti VOL. Xv. 6 82 George Aferedith as a Theorist. [Aug., mately famous or not, we can be sure that he is and will be useful; though we may hesitate to call any one of his stories as a whole an artistic masterpiece, we shall not hesitate to say that the substance of his intellectual influence is valuable and not likely soon to be effaced. When we put together our scattered impressions of his opin- ions on various topics, we find (to judge from a personal expe- rience) some three or four aspects of his teaching especially conspicuous. These are his theories of fiction, sentiment, ideal womanhood, and romantic love. Whether these are points with which he is chiefly concerned or not, they will per- haps serve to illustrate the theoretical side of his writings. Even where we disagree with him, here and elsewhere, he wins our respect, his purpose is so serious, his labor so faithful. What he said of his last heroine, whom he introduced as for a time supporting herself by writing stories, we may say of him: She did not chameleon her pen from the color of her audi- ence. She worked in translucent conscience. Though he invariably writes with a moral purpose, he is never the propagandist of particular current obligations. No philanthropic treatise is to be extracted from any of his novels. Shakspeare himself is scarcely more reticent respecting the- ology or those sanctities of personal religion that it has become the fashion for novelists to expound. Beauchamps Career shows that he sympathizes with some sentiments of the English Radicals, yet his attitude is thoughtful and conservative, not that of an advocate. Richard Feverel is his only work that can be called a plea against a code of conduct. For instead of dealing with systems of thought and with truths of public relation, Meredith deals with truth of internal character and of social life. He is a theorist. His fine power of catching life-like shades of speech and manner, his creations of strong characters and skillfully devised scenes for them to move through, are gifts that he has in common with other good novelists. But pri- marily his is the reflective rather than the creative habit, the bent of his mind is philosophical. Indeed, in one of his books he introduces as his partner The Philosopher, who will not see things on the surface, and is, as a necessary consequence, 1889.1 George 3fieredith a~ a Theori8t. 83 blind to the fact that the public detest him. This philoso- pher maintains that a story should not always flow, that characters should be so true to life that they must move them- selves, instead of being pliant to an arbitrary plot. Plainly he belongs to the realistic school; not however to the class of superficial realism represented by some popular Ameri- can fiction of to-day, and as little to the French realists of depravity. The superficial he will not notice; what occupies the foreground of human nature to such writers as Zola, Mer- edith indeed sees, but he sees it at one side. Life, he says, is not chiefly rose-pink or dirty-drab; idealism and brutalism he equally abjures. To him novel-writing is a responsibility. The Fiction which is the summary of aetnal Life, he has told ns, is Phi- losophys elect handmaiden. The fictionist is a public teacher, partly by holding up examples of common follies and covert flaws of character, our laughs and frowns at which may lead us to personal introspection. Comedy, he declares, proposes the correcting of pretentiousness, of inflation, of dullness, and of the vestiges of rawness and grossness to be found among us. She is the ultimate civilizer. Aside from opening us to our- selves, it teaches us about men in general. Sometimes by the study of life in a novel we can see truths of human nature more accurately than by looking at the people around us; as astronomers get better results in some of their in4estigations of the sun and stars by telescopic photographs than by looking through the telescope themselves. Many creations of fiction work closely into our mental processes as formula~ of various qualities; some become as truly our heroes as do the real names of history. If our sympathies are tricked, if our judgments are deceived by characters romantically impracticable or philo- sophically untrue, if the figures whom our sensibilities follow are lovely yet mischievous fairies, the magician of the story is responsible. Therefore we find Meredith sedulous of true characterization, scientifically accurate in his psychology, shun- mug those sweet, poetical, unrealizable ideals that prove fruits of the lotus. He tries to animate his characters with what he calls the fires of positive brainstuff, to paint thoughtful women, thinking men. 84 Geor~ye 2Iferedith as a Theori~st. [Aug., Nor does it seem to him outside the novelists province to be didactic by more than implication or suggestion. Occasionally, quite neglecting his actors, he steps to the front of his stage and delivers an earnest pctralasis to his audience. Even in the full sweep of his comedy, whole-souled as his pleasure is in the laugh at some ridiculous character or grotesque situation, after laughing he falls to thinking how and why people deflect from sense into folly. In these panoramas of absurdities he not only hopes that we shall catch suggestions of our silly selves; some- times, even here, he takes up his fescue and throws a lecturers gown over the bright attire of the comedian. Yet he is never pedagogic or sombre in his advice. Where it is plain, he knows that the unaided lesson is better than tutoring; he has faith in the sanitation of mirth. The philosopher finds himself clinging to laughter as the best of human fruit, he has writ- ten; and so long passages are doctrinal only to those who read thoughtfully. So earnestly intellectual himself, he demands that his readers shall adopt his mental seriousness. In his own words, his char- acters knock at the door of the mind, and the mind must open to be interested in them. Only those who read her womans blood and character with the head will care for her, he says of one of his heroines. My people conquer nothing, win none, he writes elsewhere: they are aetnal, yet uncom- mon. It is the clock-work of the brain that they are directed to set in motion. This, then, is Mr. Merediths standard of fiction: to write with a sense of responsibility, to aim at presentation of char- acter rather than at story-telling, to regard an accurate psychol- ogy as morally obligatory, to satirize folly and to present exemplars of intelligent culture, to appeal for approval to the intellect. If we were to dub Meredith with any single name after our general term of Theorist, perhaps the most appropriate would be Anti-sentimentalist. The various manifestations of senti- mentalism he is continually deriding or denouncing, and upholding their opposites by precepts and examples. At first it is scarcely clear what his use of the word implies; his most aphoristic remark on the subject while certainly striking is still 1889.1 George iVileredith a~ a ]iheori8t. 85 possibly a trifle obscure: Sentimental people fiddle harmonies on the strings of sensualism, to the delight of a world gaping for marvels of musical execution rather than for mnsic. We are all the more confnsed by hearing fastidious readers occa- sionally complaining that Meredith fiddles discords on these same strings. Though he is moral enough, they say, his habit of plain speech upon certain topics is needlessly offensive. He has a way of alluding to our different senses, where delicate taste tells us to forget that we have senses. Instead of ignor- ing the body he would recognize it as a large factor in human life. The shame in the acknowledgment, he holds, springs from a consciousness of morbid subservience to its worst power. An ideally pure character would talk with the straight gaze of innocence about every thought and every action. True poets and true women, he has said, have the native sense of the divineness of what the world deems gross material substance. It is delicacy of nerve, not weight of brain, that leads to prudish over-refinement. He believes in weight of brain. The sentimentalists, he admits, have a part to play in civiliza- tion; through their efforts it is continually advanced, some- times ridiculously. On many topics, no doubt, assumed unconsciousness or euphemistic allusion is decent. Yet when we come to suppose that surface concealment of the lower life is annihilation of it, we are in the devils steel-trap. Mr. Meredith believes in evolution from beast to soul; he regards that evolution as at present only half accomplished. Man is in transition, governed partly by spiritual, partly by physical forces. Recognizing our finer selves, we must recognize our lower selves also. This the sentimentalist declines to do. Everyone, to venture an awkward image, may be represented as a pair of Siamese twins. Each of us walks about in dual individuality; the problem of life is, Which is going to lead and control,the sensual or the spiritual? In our present state neither can be destroyed. Now the sentimentalists more advanced self is ashamed of his brother. Palid, weak-limbed, he is afraid of him, too; as well he may be, for he bears the marks of many a private drubbing. Yet he walks through society as if he were quite nutwinned. He twists his neck awry so that he may not see 86 George ilferedith a~ a fTheori8t. [Aug., his associate, and is scandalized if any one else notices the obuoxions silent partner. In everything the latter is ostenta- tiously ignored. Whereas the philosopher goes ont with hi8 brother chatting pleasantly, not in the least ashamed and in very slight appre- hension. For he is active and muscular, qnite a match for Master Body. Yet how kind he is to him! He seems even glad to defer to his more simple wishes, and acknowledges that he would lose mnch profit, if the bond were broken between himself and the twin whom he sometimes has to fight. Onr anthor, then, is attacking sham spiritnalism.~ His philosophy here is the same that an nnpopular American writer has more clumsily attempted to advance, the same that is ex- pressed by Browning, as in Rabbi ben Ezra,the philosophy of a harmony of this dual individuality. Let us not always say Spite of this flesh to-day I strove, made head, gained ground upon the whole! As the bird wings and sings, Let us cry all good things Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more now than flesh helps soul ! To bring about this result we neednot prudish attempts to ignore, but manly dignity to recognize and control. Manage our various appetites, and there is no need to be ashamed of them: try to ignore them, and they will manage us. Let reason eye steadily the beast within, and the brute will cower. Unwatched it is uncontrolled, and in those mirky hours through which everyone sometimes must pass, it will spring upon its master, all claws and fangs and fascinating merciless eyes. Know the worst that is in you, ii you would realize your best. Forewarned, forearmed. Moreover, when slips are made, a rational knowledge of our human tendencies saves us from surprised and overwhelming despair. If Meredith is earnest in opposing affected oblivion of physical nature, he is gay in his crusade upon what he calls the sentimentalists Nice Feelings and Fine Shades. The languid daintiness of bearing and tone, the fear of some action not quite correct or of some phrase that common people may use, all the delicate attenuations of physical and social habit, he 1889.] George Jifieredith as a Theorist. 87 laughs at most rudely. He believes in people who admit that they enjoy their good dinners, who act naturally instead of referring to such compendiums as Dont; frank, true, first- hand people, hearty, straight-forward, plain and simple. Here again, he tells us, the sentimentalists offend because they have guilty consciences. Gross consciousness of their vulgar selves makes them over-assume. Hence, too, their whispered com- munications of tender sympathies and etherial aspirations. Not permeated with the best of heart and mind, they are anxious to have people yet suppose that they possess this intel- lectual and emotional culture. In these novels such soft con- fidences at times get hard treatment as when Arabeila tries to be emotional with iMir. Pericles on the topic of a soul in the moonlight. Says another character, led to final suicide by over-refinement of sentiment: I have always thought sadness more musical than mirth; surely there is more grace in sad- ness. Sir Purcell was talking to Einilia, that beautiful daughter of nature. Poetry, sculpture, and songs and all the arts, were brought forward to demonstrate the truth of his theory. When Emilia understood him, she cited dogs and cats and birds, and all things of nature that rejoiced and revelled, in support of the opposite view. Nay, if animals are to be your illustration, he protested. Such talk must be uttered to a soul, he phrased internally. It must be uttered to a humbug! we almost hear Meredith mutter. The sentimentalists tendency to express everything by cir- cumlocution, also, leads to disastrous self-delusion. One young lady has been flirting with her sisters lover. In the language of her school, she had innocently played with the fire of a strange affectiona child in the temple. How innocent, how pathetic, the translation into Fine Shades appears. These same characters are always withdrawing from the heat and burden of the day into shady nooks, to recline upon roses and dream of action. For example, Miss Asper plans to nurse Warwick; the forsaken young lady proposes to nurse the abandoned husband of the woman bereaving her of the man she loved. Mr. Meredith adds, sentimentalists enjoy these tricks, the conceiving or the doing of themthe former, mainly, which are cheaper and equally effective. 88 George 3feredith a~ a ]iheori8t. [Aug., Leaving the sentimentalism of the heart in relation to itself, our social critic sees great mischiefs worked by the dainty vice in the hearts hero-worship of others. Put. yonr friends, he constantly advises, on formal trial for their characters. Scrutinize them, think them out, reject second-hand testimony; let your emotions, to be sure, take part in the trial, but let them be only witnesses before intellect the judge. Graceful and poetic as the habit of idealizing people is, it is quite as foolish as it wonld be to go abont the world with eyes and ears shut, by onr lesser senses learning natnre. Foolish, for unless we know men trnly, we cannot render them best service; because characters misnnderstood often lead us to unsafe con- fidence; becanse when onr trusted pole-star turns out to be an inconstant planet, we are in danger of drifting hopelessly over an unguided sea. Deceived, we think everything deception. There is nothing like sentiment, says one of our novelists disillusioned sentimentalists, for making you hard, matter of fact, worldly, calculating. Cynicism he calls the younger brother of sentiment and inheritor of the family property. This pride in exterior propriety and the notion that the course of moral and spiritual refinement is from without to within, make after all only one form of the evil of Falsehood, to which most of humanitys faults belong. The burden of scene after scene in these novels is, Be genuine! Their worst distresses are due to an effort to conceal, whether from others or from oneself, unpleasant absolute facts, that ought to be accepted resolutely and avowed. Take, for example, the attempt to hide humble respectable social origin, in the wish to rank as an aris- tocrat. Believing in the dignity of man and not of class, Mr. Meredith plays with liveliest satire on such characters as the Countess de Saldar, daughter of a tailor, wife of a Portuguese noble, whose ambition with beauty and brilliancy keeps strug gling after concealment of her origin and identification with lords and ladies. Lies of silence, lies of assertion, the most splendid aplomb, carry her through weary stages to one and another success, but ever as she bows her graceful figure to receive fashions golden crown, it is that old ghost of a plebeian birth that with sarcastic louting extends a coi~onet of pinchbeck. The Countess has two sisters who aspire and suffer with her, 1889.1 George Jifieredith a~ a ]iheori8t. 89 and a brother, the title character of Evan Harrington. This hero of one of Mr. Merediths most engaging stories is given as the touchstone of his moral nature, the acknowledgment or the repudiation of his birth. Consideration for his sisters en- treaties, the cowardice of natural pride, his love for a girl noble in character as in birth, cause long hesitations and con- ilict. Yet Evan wins himself, the true fruition of the story whose end might have been more severely satisfactory had the romantic last few pages remained unwritteii. In another book we have excellent comedy in the portrayal of live or six young ladies of rival mercantile families lately risen to opulence, each trying to climb fastest and highest the ladder of upper society. What falls these delicate maidens get! Mr. Merediths Thalia is quite inexorable with such van- ities, and the sprights of her laughing train dance fantastical measures and laugh in shrill resonant jubilee, when Mr. Pole gets drunk, and his prospective wife talks the vulgarest Irish brogue at the great party where the aspiring Misses Pole were to attain their long coveted social apotheosis. Insincerity of one sort and another is exposed from beginning to end of this authors work. Those ubiquitous white lies of feigned know ledge, affected sympathies, the little assumptions of refinement in which the actors half believe, are remorselessly followed up and satirically or sadly condemned. Are we free of them? we ask ourselves. But if the consciences of some say free, it by no means follows that they have escaped Mr. Merediths inquisition. How do you treat the insincerities of your acquaintance? Nay, more: How do you encourage your acquaintance to be true? Falling back on his principle that humanity is still partly in the mire, our moralist declares that those who are farther out than most are too uncharitable to the weakness of their fellows. Half-formed, yet resolved to con- sider themselves complete, they demand that others shall not shock the proprieties by failing at least to appear so. Thus they force weak people into fictitious semblances, and smile blandly at the decency of humanitys exterior. Instead of this, we should form a sober, practical standard of conduct and sen- timent. Sturdy against all real evil, have charity for human frailty. Break down artificial distinctions between men. Hum- 90 George iI1eredi~h a~ a flikeori8t. [Aug., bug-aristocracy, surface-vulgarityexpose the emptiness of the one, the substance that sometimes hides beneath the other. Honor simplicity, even though it is sometimes blunt and gawky. Reserve your line scorn for assumed virtue, culture, and refine- ment. The secret of hypocritical propriety is cowardice. It is the chief evil in the world, cries IRosamund. It is the worlds top and bottom sin, we read elsewhere. The Princess Ottilia said of Janets courage: It may knot up every other virtue worth having. It seems to me to imply one-half, and to dis- pense with the other. Unless we win it, whether we succeed in cheating others or not, we shall surely deceive ourselves. With Laetitia we shall find that a sovereign method of hood- winking our bright selves is the acting of a part, however natu- rally it may come to us. The habit planted is hard as knot- grass to root out: yet we may well suffer in the ordeal, if at last we achieve Mr. Merediths standard of sincerity That oneness of feeling which is the truthful impulse. In still other ways he writes as a theorist. The women of popular books (indeed, of average society) are intolerable to him. Men have fallen into an utterly mistaken conception of womanhood, they have brought it about that their companion sex is properly called the weaker sex. At present the educa- tion of girls is to make them believe that facts are their enemies, a naughty spying race upon whom the dogs of Pudeur are to be loosed. Elsewhere he makes one of his best characters say: I suppose we women are taken to be human natures fringes, not a part of the texture, the pretty ornamentation. All this must be changed. Women must be taught to know and to think, using the intellects that God has given them and that man has made them leave for the most only partly developed. The education for women is to teach them to rely on them- selves. The popular misconception, writers of fiction have fostered; of such treatment Meredith has steered clear. With that old sense of the novelists responsibility, he has determined to make his work practical and sensible just when ordinary story-tellers feel themselves most at liberty to idealize and please. At this point as at several others, the English novelist and our Amen- 1889.] George Aferedith a~ a fIiheori8t. 91 can Whitman are in close sympathy. The latter wrote, some fifteen years ago: On the cnrrent novels, tales, romances, and what is called poetry, lies the responsibility (a great part of it, anyhow) of the absence in modern society of a noble, stal- wart, and healthy and maternal race of women, and of a strong and dominant moral conscience.~~ No novels have a saner or more earnest infinence toward the formation of this conscience and this womanhood than these works of Meredith. He never tires of ridicnling the heroine of modern romance, refined even np to the thin edge of in- anity, frail, delicate, languid, exquisite, Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null. His idea of womans purity throws aside the sentimentalists marble ideal,his Galateas have been tonched by the goddess. Consummate self-sacrifice, seraphic sweetness, incarnations of easy, unutterable goodness, he does not portray for ns. The setting for his girls and women is not the woody glade of poetry, faintly golden with moonlight slanting through the leaves, the very ground regally fictitious with diamonds that are only dew. His girls and women belong to mid-day, on the street, over country roads, walking or riding with energy, living, not languishing. Instead of gazing ineffably and whispering magically, their eyes and lips look and speak honest laughter and sensible, helpfnl ideas. He likes strong, healthy heroines, like the one of whom he says: Great mother nature had given a house of iron to this soul of fire. Perhaps the only etiolated girl of any worth whom he has drawn is in his first real novel, and she is a background figureClare, whose frail loveliness and ineffective love awake pity so tenderly, as we look back over them in that fine passage where upstairs Clare was lying dead. Yet she is introduced as an admonition, not as a model. Two or three of his best characters,it is true,are invalids for a shorter or longer time; but their souls are never invalids. If ordinary novel-reading gives young ladies artificial, lackadaisical, posing, dreamy stand- ards of character, these books at least will inspire with the zest of strength and force, of simplicity and sober practical efficiency. 92 George Meredith as a Theorist. [Aug., What absurd models men have set up for women. That con- ception of feminine perfection as wholly subservient sweet- ness Meredith has devoted one of his very best books to combatting. This taste for ultra feminine re~nemeut insists that a woman shall live wholly centered in the one man whom she chooses, humoring his foibles, credulous to the pretences of his vanity, domestically cloistered from perils of participation in the world, a wife retaining that ignorance named innocence by sentimentalists, spotless in what Milton called an excre- mental whiteness. Are they not of a nature warriors, like men? Mens mates, to bear them heroes instead of puppets ? Meredith is continually crying shame on this selfish seclusion of a wife from the fullest participation with mans activity and development, her energies devoted to making herself an accept- able plaything and pretty diversion for his idleness. The Ego- ist believed himself the fit object for every affection, act, and thought of the woman whom he honored with his regard. To her he would be courteous, even gallant; he would talk the wittiest and most finished trifles, every gesture and glance a sentimental tribute to the sex. But in return the woman must be what Laetetia had been: You were a precious cameo, he told her, still gazing; you loved me, you belonged to me, you were mine, my possession, my jewel. What wonder that his third love, whom he chided because she did not sufficiently think of making herself a nest for him, cried out Oh, a comrade! II do not want a lover. This exclamation is the sum- ming up, I think, of Merediths feeling about men and women in respect to marriage. It is noticeable that his only main love- story whose end is tragical, is the only one that he has founded on impulse and emotion instead of deliberation and judgment. As has been suggested already, intellect, though it always listens to advice from the affections, always is the dominant member of his council of conduct. What the poet to whom I have already referred says in his Democratic Vistas about the future woman, a true personality, developed, exercised, proportionately in body, mind, and spirit,this true, clear-minded heroine of the age for which we hope, when every pair of lives shall make a story sweet and strong with love and courage and thought Meredith tries to set before us as a present ideal. Listen to the 1889.] Georr,e iVteredith as a Theorist. 93 standard of love that he has presented in Ottilia: She could oniy love intelligentlylove, that is, in the sense of giving her- self. She had the power of passion and it could be stirred; but he who kindled it wrecked his chance if he could not stand clear in her intellects unsparing gaze. So, too, Cecilia Hal- kett determined to know the truth of her lover: Anything, pain and heart-rending, rather than the shutting of the eyes in an unworthy abandonment to mere emotion and fascination. Read, too, the comprehension of love that IDiana gave Red- worth: The senses running their live sap, and the minds com- panioned, and the spirits made one by the whole-natnred con- junction. With these tendencies to prosaic opinions, it is not surpris- ing that Meredith manages his love-stories oddly. For exam- ple, he has no faith in that beautiful and spiritual conception of the immortality of every real affection. Men and women may love long and even eagerly, yet when disappointed find themselves entirely heart-whole. This may happen more than once; yet he repudiates the thought that by these temporary affections the souls chastity of love is lost for the final and successful lover. Sandra Belloni, one of the most original and lovely women of modern literature, falls deeply in love with a man who cares little for her, wins after a while his complete de- votion, finds that she has read his and her own heart wrongly, is then loved by a strong, grave man, and cannot realize her de- sire to love him. In Vittoria, the sequel to her first story, she loves and after difficulties marries a young hero of the Italian cause, with whom her life is not quite happyand, after years, stands (just for the final curtain to fall upon her) hand in hand with her old, high-souled lover, taught at last that the confidence and contentment she so long had known with him was truer love than the flash of emotion that she had be- lieved reqnisite for marriage. Diana marries a man from impulse not even romantic, finds herself scourged for her mis- take by domestic misery, loves a brilliant young statesman with complete abandon, is jilted by him just as her husbands death leaves her free. From this passion thus crushed, she indeed needs a long time to recover; but after a while, graver and yet more womanly, she gives her final and consummate love to a 94 George ~Jfteredith as a Theorist. [Aug., quiet, long-devoted lover, another of Merediths favorite heroes, genuine character from heart to hand. Harry Richmond loves Ottilia and at first even dislikes Janet; Ottilia loves him. Her judgment teaches her that she will more wisely both for herself and for him, marry another; he accepts necessity, and comes to love even more truly the devoted girl whom he had been disposed to ignore. According to our author, engagements are not sacred bonds: marriage is of too serious importance for the sentiment of a preliminary plighting to be respected, if the added knowledge of that closer intimacy reveals new and nucongenial qualities. So Rose comes to Evan only after she has torn herself from the selfish, scornful Laxley, who had received her promise. Clara, winniub, plucky girl, fights single-handed against lover, father, and family entanglements, when almost on the eve of her wedding she discovers that the man she supposed she loved has been wearing a mask. She, too, succeeds, and again it is the genuine character, the quiet, sincere, true man whom she has trusted and respected that she finds she loves. May no dear woman whom I know, exclaims one of these troubled heroines, ever marry the man she first loves ? Not if a girls first love is founded upon inexperience of the world and her own capacities and needs. No sentiment, these books keep showing us, is more silly for woman or man than the idea that there is heroism or beauty in loyalty to the ghost of a mis- taken affection, always provided that the mistake is discovered in time. As in Rhoda Fleming, the loves that Meredith likes and trusts as the happiest, are those founded upon worth and dignity of character; respect is better than fancy, the minds approval is a safer match-maker than fascination of eye or ear or heart. For marriage, he keeps reminding us, is such a prac- tical affair. Nevil Beauchamp, who had wished to marry IRen6e and then Cecilia, finally chooses a third for whom he has less emotion, but in whom he finds responsiveness of character to his own needs. Instead of starting out of romance and poetry with him, we are told of Jenny Denham, she taught him the joys of sweet companionship, simple delights, a sister mind. His first love had been an ecstacy, his second confused with material advantage. Let the rapture go, for this sober 1889.] George ilferedith as a Tkcorist. 95 adviser, with homelier deep eyes and thouglitfuller brows let the wealth go, let all go, for dowerless Jenny, whose lover he came to be through being her husband. This almost uniform treatment of love and marriage shows that Mr. Meredith has a very stout belief in the principles that I have outlined. Many of his lovers could repeat to each other Michelangelos grave line to Vittoria: La vita del mio amor non ~ ii cor mio. Only those who have read these novels, however, can appre- ciate how far his love-stories are from coldness. The lyrical joyousness of early romance that we iind in Richard Feverel does indeed yield in his later books to less exu]taut sentiment; the allegro assai passes into an adagio; in place of the quick, sensational, rapturous loves of youths and maidens, with in- creasing fondness he dwells on long love-trial that ends seldom buoyantly. But there is satisfaction and strength in the love of hearts established by thought and experienced in the mean- ing of life; nor is there lack of sweetness and tenderness in the calm serious contentment to which this novelist loves to in- troduce, not boys and girls, but men and womento whom life is no fairy dream but a reality, its best joys chastened, its privileges linked with duty. His test of love is proved capacity for mutual service. This tried affection, he tells us, lives, be- cause it lives to nourish and succor, like the heavens. TOMPKINS MCLAUGHLIN. 96 1IIontana as it was, and as it is. [Aug., ARTICLE 11.MONTANA AS IT WAS, AND AS IT IS. MONTANA, or according to the Spanish pronunciation Mon- tanya, which signifies the land of mountains, or in the Tudian dialect, Ta-a-be-shock-np, country of mountains, was organ- ized and set apart as a territorial commonwealth by act of congress, approved May 26th, 1864. On the completion of twenty-one years of territorial life it proposed to lay aside its swaddling clothes for the robes of statehood, passed a State constitution, and after four years of knocking at the doors of congress for admission as a State into the Union was finally admitted February 22d, 1889. Is her application meritorious or pretentious? TERRITORIAL AREA. It is bounded on the north by the British Possessions, east- erly by Dakota, southerly by Wyoming and Idaho, and westerly by Idaho. These widely separated lines contain 145,776 square miles and near 100,000,000 acres of land. In order to more fully comprehend the significance of these figures, I will add, that they embrace a territorial area greater in extent by 12,114 square miles than all the six New England States, New York, New Jersey, Delaware, and Maryland combined,more than eighteen times larger than Massachusetts, and more than thirty- one times larger than Connecticut. Take another illustration. The northern boundary of Mon- tana exceeds by more than 100 miles the distance between Boston and Washington, and the distance from its northern to its southern extremity equals that from Long Island Sound to Montreal. The Rocky Mountains run through Montana from north to south, dividing it into eastern and western declivities. In the whole range of the Rockies, from its northern to its southern boundary, gold, silver and other precious metals are found.

96 1IIontana as it was, and as it is. [Aug., ARTICLE 11.MONTANA AS IT WAS, AND AS IT IS. MONTANA, or according to the Spanish pronunciation Mon- tanya, which signifies the land of mountains, or in the Tudian dialect, Ta-a-be-shock-np, country of mountains, was organ- ized and set apart as a territorial commonwealth by act of congress, approved May 26th, 1864. On the completion of twenty-one years of territorial life it proposed to lay aside its swaddling clothes for the robes of statehood, passed a State constitution, and after four years of knocking at the doors of congress for admission as a State into the Union was finally admitted February 22d, 1889. Is her application meritorious or pretentious? TERRITORIAL AREA. It is bounded on the north by the British Possessions, east- erly by Dakota, southerly by Wyoming and Idaho, and westerly by Idaho. These widely separated lines contain 145,776 square miles and near 100,000,000 acres of land. In order to more fully comprehend the significance of these figures, I will add, that they embrace a territorial area greater in extent by 12,114 square miles than all the six New England States, New York, New Jersey, Delaware, and Maryland combined,more than eighteen times larger than Massachusetts, and more than thirty- one times larger than Connecticut. Take another illustration. The northern boundary of Mon- tana exceeds by more than 100 miles the distance between Boston and Washington, and the distance from its northern to its southern extremity equals that from Long Island Sound to Montreal. The Rocky Mountains run through Montana from north to south, dividing it into eastern and western declivities. In the whole range of the Rockies, from its northern to its southern boundary, gold, silver and other precious metals are found. 1889.] Afontana as it was, and as it is. 97 THE PHYSICAL ASPECT and properties of the territory are all the imagination can de- sire. Greece never boasted of fairer skies; Italy never rejoiced in a firmament more deeply blue; Germany never revealed sublimer forests, or Switzerland grander mountains, or more romantic scenery than may be seen in Montana. No man has ever seen the beauty and solemn impressive grandeur of American scenery, who has not looked upon the Rocky Mountains, with peak oer peak rising to the clouds, the broad plains and emerald valleys that nestle in their shadows, the bright full moon and crispy Northern Lights that irradiate the firmament with evening splendor. The pure atmosphere of these altitudes seemingly brings the blue dome of the heavens, gemmed with stars of electric bril- liancy, nearer to the earth than any other locality I was ever in. For two hundred miles of weary march, across dusty, monot- onous plains, the eyes of the traveler have watched their snowy crowns and dingy sides, their lights and shadows, their deep gorges and rocky precipices, their sublime forests and leaping cascades, as the alluring goal of his anibition, the end of his journey where he is to search for that power that rules the world. ITS IRIvEH SYSTEM is the finest on the continent. Its western slope is drained by the head waters of the Columbia river, and its tributaries which flow westward through Idaho, Washington, and Oregon, empty- ing into the Pacific ocean, with an expanse broad and deep enough to float the navies of the world. Its eastern slope is drained by three great rivers, the Jfferson (starting near the head waters of the Columbia), Madison, and Galatin, and their tributaries, which unite in forming the Missouri river, which sweeps on to the sea, gath- ering into its bosom a thousand other streams that course through the valleys and beautify the landscape. These mountain streams, clear as crystal, are full of delicious mountain trout, as pretty speckled beauties as ever feasted the vision, or tickled the palate of Isaac Walton, or as ever played voL. xv. 7 98 Jlliontana as it was, and as it is. [Aug., hide-and-seek with the angler in the streams and lakelets of New England. Think of the Connecticut river, with its 450 miles in length from its sonrce to its month; of the Hudson, with its 350 miles from its source to the sea, and then think of the Missouri river, with its 3,000 miles of navigable waters, gathering into its sweeping cnrrent rivers longer and larger than the Connec- ticnt, the Hudson, or the Ohio at Pittsburgh, and you get some idea of the sweeping majesty of that stream, which cuts its way through the Rocky Mountains, near 200 miles below the confluence of the three rivers spoken of. Like the moving of terrific power rejoicing in its freedom with the song of vic- tory, it plunges into the rocky chasm called the Gate of the Mountains, defiant of all opposition. Warren, in his Physical Geography, says: For a distance of six miles the rocks rise perpendicular from the waters edge to the height of 1,200 feet, and for the first three miles there is only one spot where man can stand between the waters and the mountain side. I have never been through this mysterious gate-wayq but I have been told by those who have, that it is a scene of awful sub- limity and impressive grandeur, holding man almost breathless as the boiling waters hurry through the rocky chasm, where the human voice is answered back with startling echoes, which re- verberate from wall to wall till the whole space seems peopled with invisible, talking spirits, each clamorous for the last word in the controversy. One hundred and ten miles further down brings one to the Great Falls of the Missouri. The roaring of its many waters can be heard from seven to ten miles distant. There is a suc- cession of falls here, one 90, one 50 feet, and others of lesser note. Just above the falls the river is 800 yards wide and ten feet deep, but at the falls it is compressed into 400 yards in width. Twenty-five miles further down brings one to Fort Benton, the head of steamboat navigation, over 3,000 miles by river above St. Louis~actually, according to a published table of distances from point to point, 3,175 miles. The Missouri river vastly exceeds in length, breadth, and depth the Mississippi river, and should be called the parent 1889.] ilfontana a8 it wa8, and a~ it ~8. 99 stream. From its source to its junction with the Mississippi is about 4,000 miles, while the Mississippi, from its source to its junction with the Missouri, is less than 2,000 miles. The Missouri, from its headwaters to the Gulf, is the longest river in the world, being about 5,000 miles in length, and the area it drains is estimated at 518,000 square miles. The Yellowstone river, starting in the Yellowstone Park, near the southern boundary of Montana, runs in a northeasterly direction, draining the hills and valleys of Montana, empties into the Missouri river at the eastern boundary of the territory, and is a thousand miles in length, with steamboat navigation exceeding the entire length of the Hudson river. It has a succession of magnificent waterfalls; one with a perpendicular plunge of 350 feet, and others of grand proportions. A late government map represents the falls respectively to be 162, 350, 200, 84, 82 feet, and a cascade of 1,300 feet. The waters in their haste to the sea, leap, tumble, foam and surge down rocky declivities, and over stony beds, 3,000 feet in 20 miles. The deep gorge through which this river passes belongs to the mysteries of creation. Its rugged walls are from 200 to 500 feet apart, and in depth in some places 2,000 feetso deep that no sound of the rushing waters below ever reach the listening ear at the top. These gray old rocks hold the mys- teries of their birth in dismal shadows from age to age. The suspension bridge at Niagara is 250 feet above the water; a like bridge over the Yellowstone caflon would be 2,000 feet. The falls at Niagara are 164 feet in height, 186 feet less than the great Yellowstone falls. Besides the rivers named there are scores of other large, beau- tiful streams within Montana which empty into the Missouri. These rivers gather up the scattered waters from mountain top to valley and pour them into this great river arm, which reaches through the body and heart of the republic, emptying them into the gulf, where an unseen power again picks them up and scatters them in pearly rain drops over the parched earth, watering the gardens of Eden under rainbows of promise. While Montana was christened the Land of Mountains, it is also a country of rivers. 100 ilfiontana as it was, and as it is. [Aug., ITS MoUNTAINs. Some of them lift their majestic heads above snow line, and wear their white, shining caps undistnrbed from generation to generation, flashing morning snnlight into teeming valleys below, aronnd whose crowned heads linger the last rays of the evening snn, eer he sinks behind the billows of the Pacific. Out of these monntain sides, interlaced with gigantic ribs of rock and molten earth, spangled with stars of glittering gold and shining silver, at all altitudes, issne living springs of clear, cold water, that ripples down the hillsides and sparkles through the valleys. Some of these monntains are as solemn in silence, as impres- sive in grandeur, as sublime in majesty, as mysterious in sur- roundings as the mount on which Moses held converse with Jehovah, and which holds in secret his burial place till this day. Fort Benton was never a military fort but a trading post, established by the American Fur Company in 1850, and was one of the most important on the river, if not in the whole country. From this point alone more than half a million of dollars worth of furs and robes were annually shipped to the States. The store rooms, dwelling houses and workshops were built of adobe brick, of much strength, with port-hole turrets for look-out and defence. These buildings again were surrounded by a stockade of high poles close together, one end embedded in the ground, and the other riveted in their fastenings at the top, giving ample room in the enclosure for storage, and made capable of resisting attacks by Indians in any mode of warfare then known to them. A large gate in the stockade opened to the enclosure, through which Indians passed in limited num- bers at a time, to exchange their robes and furs for red paint, beads, gaudy calico, and red blankets, so attractive to the race. As soon as one squad had finished trading they were turned out to make room for others to enter who had remained outside of the stockade waiting their opportunity, it not being prudent to let too many in at a time, beside being inconvenient for the want of room to accommodate a whole tribe at once. The exchange price for a good buffalo robe, formerly, was a cup of sugar, a yard of calico, a string of beads, and perhaps a 1889.1 liifiontana as it was, and as it is. 101 little red paint, a plug of tobacco added, for an extra nice robe, or choice lot of furs. If an Indian could get several coveted articles in exchange for one, the traffic was reckoned by them to be largely in their favor. These robes were dressed and tanned by the squaws, and by them brought to niarket, either upon their own backs or upon the backs of ponies. The squaws form the baggage train of the moving camp, while their Master Lords ride in stately ease, oblivious of all care or responsibility for the drudgery of the camp. All the labor among the Indians, except the chase, is performed by the squaws. They do every- thing: pitch the tent, move the camp, cut the wood, bring the water, dry the meat, dress the pelts, cook the meals, and when the repast is ready, first serve their Masters, contenting them- selves with the scanty refuse that may be left. Here aronnd Benton, the Blackfeet nation of Indians, com- posed of the most powerful and warlike tribes of the mountains (save perhaps the Sioux), had their ranges, and pursued the chase unmolested, until the discovery of gold attracted into their hunting grounds the pale faces of their great father, whose presence was, as it always has been, the bane of the Indian in more ways than one. In October, 1865, in company with the secretary and acting governor of the territory, with an armed escort, the writer started from Helena on horseback for Benton, 140 miles distant (visit- ing the Missouri falls on the way), to help the Indian agent make a treaty with the Indians, and witness the distribution of their annuities. Three log cabins, occupied by French half- breeds, and one occupied by an American living with two squaw wives of different tribes, were the only stationary evi- dences of civilized life that we saw at that time. At Benton we met about 7,500 Indians, composed of the Blackfeet, Blood, Piegans, Gros Ventres, and Mountain Crows, to make a treaty with them, by which they were to relinquish to the government the country then being overrun by the whites. The Indians claimed all of that country as theirs, and the goverument had guaranteed them protection from intrusion by the whites. Indians were exasperated, and whites were lawless. Human life was unsafe and cheap on both sides. A good opportunity for skill in marksmanship with either the 102 Atontana as it was, and as it is. [Aug., rifle or bow and arrow was generally rewarded with bloody trophies. The Indians were sinned against as well as sinning. Whites would murder whites for plunder, scalp and mutilate their victims, and then report it as an Indian massacre, to be followed by similar outrages by the whites upon the Indians. We made a treaty, by which the Indians were to give up their coveted lands, the land of their fathersthe gamiest country in the world, and go into a reservation on the borders of the British Possessions, and we distributed to them about $7,500 in annuities, one dollar for each Indian, squaw, and papoose. These annuities consisted of dry goods, groceries, hardware, etc., suitable to the necessities, wants, and desires of the Indian. During my three or four weeks stay there, before the treaty was signed and goods distributed, I saw Indian character in its fullest development, in nearly all its phases. Tribal chiefs in gay attire, in war paint with eagle feathers and wampum, with necklaces of polished bear claws and wolf teeth, that glistened in the sun and rattled with their movements, with bows and arrows, with tomahawks, scalping knives and trophies of war, saw them on the war-path, heard the war whoop, saw them in the war dance, saw them in the pow-wow around their dead brave, saw them in the burial ceremony, around the council fires, in the wigwam, on the field, in the chase, in their cere-~ monial rights to the Great Spirit, in their hunger and in their feasts, have smoked with them the pipe of peace, and confronted them with weapons of warfare in the hour of danger, and I declare, that in every condition of their nomadic life, the human mind cannot escape the conviction that in their native state they are a degraded, indolent, treacherous race, with no manly attributes of character worthy of poetry, song, or tradi- tion. Over and against this estimate of their character something should be placed to their credit. This was their own country, the land of their fathers, where sleep their brave dead. The Great Spirit had presided over their councils, and had given them an abundance of game at all seasons of the year. Success attended the chase. Horses, dogs, and papooses multiplied to 1889.1 )itontana a8 it wa8, and a~ it i8. 103 the tribes; they were happy and contented in their secinsion, and prosperous in their ways. Bnt the Chinese walls of protec- tion were broken down, men poured into their conntry by the thonsands from all directions: They came as the winds come When forests are rended; They came as the waves come When vessels are stranded, and they felt the sitnation keenly. The hand writing to them was on the wall. Beyond the realms where the lightnings flash and thnnders roll, the shining stars shot the shadows of their fate athwart the heavens, and they read their doom in the evening sky, and comprehended the reality, amid the stirring scenes before them. Forty steamers, that season, nnloaded men and merchandise at Benton. Ponderons trains of merchandise and strange de- vices of machinery were moving across the conntry, cities were springing np as if by magicthe government was there with its officers collecting its revennes and enforcing its laws; game was unmercifully slanghtered and frightened from its ranges; a new order of strange proceedings to the Indian was being established in their midst, and he felt that his occnpation was gone, and it was gone forever. A recent letter from one of the principal mercantile firms at Benton, informs me That as late as the years 1874, 1875, 1876, and 1877, there were annually shipped from Benton, 80,000 bnffalo robes; 15,000 to 20,000 mountain wolf skins, and 100 to 150 tons of deer and antelope skins, realizing over $500,000. After 1879 the number dwindled rapidly till 1884, when hardly 1,000 robes were brought to market; and now there is not one buffalo left, and to extingnish the last vestage of them, the white man is now gathering from the plains the dried bones, and shipping them to bone mills, to be ground into fertilizers. With the loss of game to the Indians, came also the loss of profits to the merchants. The old trading post of the Ameri- can Fur Company at Benton, with its quarter of a centnry of thrilling history, has been abandonedits walls are fallen to 104 AL ontana a8 it was, and a~ it i8. [Aug., decaythe bats nest in security npon shelves where have rested from time to time millions of dollars in furs, and the hoot of the owl breaks the silence of the midnight hour, where once echoed the busy tread of commerce. The game is gone, and the Indian is going. His proud spirit is brokenhis erect stalwart form is bending to the shadows of inevitable fatehis step trembles upon the thres- holdhe is passing away before the march of civilization, like dissolving snows from the breath of morning, and the places that now know him, will soon know him no more forever. Oh! how the waves of civilization have crowded them back from sea-girt shores to the riversfrom the rivers to the plains from the plains to the mountainsfrom the monntains to the shadow land beyond the cycles of time. Poor wards of the nation, deceived, defranded, cheated by the Government, its officers, and people, they have gone down beneath their wrongs, and like the buffalo will soon be extinct. The problem of dealing with these poor people, now but remnants of once powerful tribes, is a hnmane one, and the government cannot too promptly awake to its importance, and with a liberal hand, lighten the shadows and avert the sorrows that environ them. The relation of husband and wife among the Indians, is that of autocrat and servant. An Indian sueing for the hand of a comely squaw, has a poor chance of success, unless bravery has attended him in the chase, or in prowess of warfare; and even then, he oft has to guage his desires by the number of horses he can give the father in exchange for his daughter, the horse being to the Indian the standard of relative values, the same as stocks and bonds in civilized life. As to faithfulness to their marriage vows, statistics give no data. The rules and laws of the tribe discriminate largely in favor of the male. The wife and daughter so to speak are owned by the husband and father. If the wife is overtaken in violation of one of the commandments without the consent of her husband (and such consent is often given and urged by the husband as a mark of favor), if she escape punishment by death, her face is often disfigured for life, and she is then banished from her husbands tent forever. I have never seen 1889.] iilontana as it was, and as it is. 105 such disfigurement upon the faces of the males, but such absence should not be construed as freedom from similar indul- gence. Mormon doctrines, to some extent, find favor among the chiefs and high-toned bucks of the tribe, although I never heard that they claimed any special revelation from the spirit land enforcing it as a religious obligation. Some Indian tribes bury or dispose of their dead by elevat- ing their bodies, wrapped in robes or blankets, upon a scaffold- ing of poles, about six feet from the ground, above the reach of wolves and beasts of prey. These remain sacred and are never disturbed by Indian hands, even though the otherwise coveted tribal ornaments buried with them drop upon the ground. Each tribe has its head and lesser chiefs, who rule the policy of the tribe with more rigor than the governor and statutes do their constituencies in the States. I have spoken of the Indian in their nomadic state, and not in their enforced colonization upon reservations, where they are kept in subjection by the power of our government. The difference between the two conditions, is like that of the tiger in the jungles, and the tiger caged for exhibition in the men- agerie. IN CLIMATIC IDivisiox, Montana compares with the belt of States east of the Mississippi River between the Ohio River and the Lakes, with a mean annual temperature at Benton, in the northerly part of the territory, of four degrees warmer than at Chicago. Observations made by government officials at Helena for a series of years, revealed an average of 294 fair days each year, just 100 more than the average at Boston, while Buffalo and Chicago had but 1i~0 each. It is a mistaken idea, that the further north we go, the colder it grows, and the soil becomes correspondingly less pro- ductive. The whole of England, Wales, Scotland, Belgium, Holland, Prussia, and some of the most beautiful portions of France lie north of the northern boundary of Montana. Deer Lodge valley is in the same latitude as Venice, and Mon- tanas northerly boundary should not be deemed so freezingly 106 Afontana as it was, and as it is. [Aug., near the Arctic Seas, when we remember that it is on the same latitude as Paris. Climatic lines established by instrumental tests through a series of years, show that the temperature of the Bitter Root valley in western Montana, on the 46 degree of latitude, is the same as that of Philadelphia on the 41st. The snow-fall, except on the mountains, is less than in New England, New York, and the belt of States north of the Ohio river above referred to. In Deer Lodge valley, west of the mountains, after twenty years of careful observation, the fact was revealed, that in only two years did the snow-fall exceed four inches in depth at any one time, and then it quickly melted. At Helena, which is about 1000 feet higher than some of the valleys, and of course somewhat colder, the average annual temperature for a number of years, was 4fj degrees, while at Albany it was 48 at the same time. The report at the U. S. Signal Station at Virginia City, which has an altitude of 5713 feet above sea-level, shows that with but one exception, the lowest temperature recorded in six years, was 19 degrees below zero, while in the States named, the thermometer during the same period frequently sank below 30. The Missouri river, above the falls, invariably opens about one month earlier than at Omaha, about 500 miles farther south. The altitudes and ,snow falls in Montana are less than in Wyoming and Colorado from 500 to 1,000 miles directly south. THE SEAsONs are substantially divided into summer and winter; summer beginning in April and ending in November, when winter sets in and holds sway till April again. Some years, however, icy formations and frosty coverlids delay their coming till near January. During the early summer months the hill-sides and valleys are decked with beautiful flowers of great variety, and in color as delicate as the tints and shadings of the rainbow. I have never seen anything in the whole floral kingdom exceeding their beauty, though I think them less fragrant than those 1889.] ifontana as it was, and as it is. 107 whicli deck New England fields and beautify New England homes. THE Am is dry, pure, invigorating and healthful. No fatal epidemic has ever visited Montana, and the cholera will never frighten her people from their monntain homes. The most common form of disease is a slow bilious fever, easily managed, and seldom fatal. Persons of consumptive tendencies, where disease has not already made fatal progress, experience relief and cure; every breath of the pure, invigor- ating air, perfumed with the aroma of pine and spruce, is a conscious inhalation of new life and strength. A haunch of venison, hoisted upon a pole in a mid-summer day, will dry and cure sweet without salt or smoke. ITS PASTURAGE. Cattle feed and fatten every month in the year upon native grass. Finer beef I never saw in eastern markets at Christ- mas and New Years than hangs in Montana markets every month in the year, fattened exclusively upon native grass. It is a well recognized fact, that Montana beef, in Chicago and St. Louis markets, brings from one to two cents a pound higher price than beef from any other state or territory, not excepting the blue grass region of Kentucky. Cattle-men understanding this fact, drive their herds from Texas and other southern localities into Montana, to fatten upon its pastures before taking them to market. For sweet, tender, juicy, and delicate flavored mutton, Mon- tana has no rival, and horses thrive equally well upon its native grass. Indian tribes counted their horses by thousands, not one of which ever saw a stack of hay or sheaf of grain. In the early days of my residence there, stage-horses made their daily trips over different stage routes, as rapidly in point of time and distance, as used to be made in stage-going days between New York and Boston, without feeding hay or grain, or stabling the horses summer or winter. As soon as the coach arrived at a station the harnesses were stripped off, the horses turned loose to pick their livinganother team hitched up to go to the next 108 Afontana as it was, and as it is. [Aug., station, and so the teams went back and forth on their daily trips, and they kept in good condition. With all of these fascinating realities, this marvelous country lay buried in distant seclusion, destitute of the throbbing arteries of ambition and enterprise, till her solitudes were broken by the hand of industry, following the discovery of gold at Bannock in July, 1862. J3annock is in the southwesterly corner of Mon- tana, almost upon the border line between Montana and Idaho. The next discovery of importance was in Alder Gulch at Virginia City, out of which it is estimated that over twelve million of dollars in placer gold was taken from the sluice boxes alone. These and other discoveries attracted public attention. People rushed there in great numbers, and Congress, at once provided for them a Territorial Government. Sidney Edgerton, Chief Justice of Idaho, formerly of Ohio, was its first governor. H. L. Hosmer, of Ohio, was appointed Chief Justice; Judge Williston of Pennsylvania, Associate Justice of Dakota, was transferred to Montana; Mr. Keeley, nephew and private secretary of Senator Grimes of Iowa, was Attorney General; and George M. Pinney of Wisconsin, United States Marshal. Appointees at once made preparation to leave for their distant and almost unknown fields of labor Two routes were open to them for choice, both through a country filled with hos- tile Indians; one over the old Mormon trail from Omaha to Salt Lake, a distance of about 1,100 miles, and then several hundred miles northward to their destinationthe other up the Missouri river. They rendezvons at Omaha on the river, and there decide upon the overland route. They purchase their owtfit, with three months provisions for the journey, join an emigrant train and start, arriving in Montana in October, 1864. They found a large population there, among it vile robbers, murderers, thieves, and gamblers, who had gone there for plun- der. Gold they would have at any cost, and human life was a small obstacle in their way of getting it. Crime was rampant with no laws or courts for its restraint. But among this rough, lawless element, were as brave, true men as ever faced danger or met duty. Out of dire necessity they organized themselves into a 1889.1 iJtontana as it was, and as it is. 109 VIGILANCE COMMITTEE for protection, and for a time it was a question which would be cleaned out first, the committee or the banditti. It was a trying crisis for the future of the Territ9ry. Vile men and bad women, long emancipated from the restraints of home, and the refining influence of virtuous society, who had followed camp life on the Pacific slope as long as it was safe for them to remain there, had come to Montana in full force, and full of wicked plots and dark deeds. This committee, hardly knowing whom to invite in or exclude from its councils, with resolute purpose, with physical bravery and moral courage that would have crowned them martyrs at the stake in any age of the world, went forward with their work. Detective agencies were sent out, the net-work was woven, and at a given signal, the net was sprung, criminals were arrested and brought in from different points to a designated place, and there charged with crime, a trial was had, and five of them were hung at one time. This was the most important trial, and faithful days work ever done in the Territory. Other similar arrests, trials, convictions, and executions were had, sometimes one, two, and three executions at a time, till between the 21st day of December, 1863, and the 3rd day of February, 1864, a little over one month, at Virginia City and Bannock 24 of these outlaws, including the sheriff and two of his deputies, were hung by the Vigilantes; and eight others, including two at- torneys who had defended the criminals at the trial, were ban- ished from the Territory. Execution was speedy, usually within an hour after conviction. After every execution, good people breathed freer; that is, those who could breath at all, for it was found at the trials by proof, confession, and otherwise, that these vile miscreants had murdered in cold blood for plunder 102 people in Montana. Other similar murders were com- mitted, but the r~d-handed assassins escaped detection. These trials were before a Vigilante jury, presided over with dignity and decorum, with a conscientious regard for the rights of the innocent, as well as stern justice for the guilty. If on trial, suspicion was strong but evidence weak, the accused was given so many hours to leave the Territory, and if he did not leave within the time limited, he never left at all. 110 illiontana a8 it was, and a~ it i8. [Aug., Xo one once warned waited for a second call, and he asked for no days of grace to the time limited. The history of the Vigilance Committee in Montana is so incorporated into its early history, that I feel justified in alluding to it, as one of the necessary forces used to eradicate a greater evil. It will be remembered, that at the time of this active work of the Vigi- lantes, there was not an organized conrt in the limits of the Territory, and not one east between the Rocky mountains and Yankton, in Dakota, 1,000 miles distant. On the 14th of March, 1865, just one month to a day before the assassination of President Lincoln, I received from him my commission as one of the three United States Judges for Mon- tana. Accepting the appointment, I began preparation for starting. I could gain but little information, by correspondence or inquiry, as to the condition of affairs in the Territory, where I should be located when there, or the best way to go. Decid- ing upon the river route, I shipped my library to St. Louis, taking a steamer there May 15th, 1865. It took us over forty days to reach Benton, and fifty-three to reach ilelena. Passing Yankton, in the lower corner of Dakota, we entered a country filled with hostile Indians. Military forts along the river were besieged by the redskins, and their commanders tried to impress upon the captain of our boat the perils of the trip, and Col. Reeves, at Fort Rice, showed us a poisoned arrow taken from the body of one of his soldiers who had died that day in great agony from its effects. The pilot house of our boat was sheathed with boiler iron, and other precautions taken for safety in case of attack. There was no security in traveling through the Indian country at that date except in large, well-armed parties, and even then, cattle and mule trains were frequently stampeded by the bold dash and dreaded war-whoop of the Indians, who swept down like an evil spirit of the winds, to help themselves to the scalps of the drivers, and plunder from the trains. Many to this day remember how frequently the coaches on the over-land-route were attacked by the Indians, and how thrillingly graphic were the scenes described by those who escaped the peril. 1889.] ilfontana as it was, and as it is. 111 On our way up the river we encountered vast herds of buf- falo, moving from southern to northern feeding grounds. The plains on either side of the river were literally covered with them as far as the eye could reach. They came to the river- bank, and plunged into the sweeping floods regardless of fear, and swam for the opposite shore like veterans in their native element. Such a sight will never again be witnessed by mor- tal eyes. The river was full of them; so full that we were obliged to stop the steamer to avoid being swamped by them. One stalwart fellow became entangled in the wheel of the steamer, and in his efforts for release ripped out some of the buckets of the wheel, necessitating repairs. We lassoed some of the fat heifers and calves and killed them on the boat for fresh meat. The country was full of buffalo, elk, deer, ante- lope, and other game, and many was the lucky shot that supplied our larder with game on our way up. Reaching Benton, we took a mule train for Helena, or Last Chance Gulch, as it was then called (a name given it because it was discovered late in the preceding fall), arriving there Sun- day, July 8th, 18f3~5. This was a lively town. Five thousand people were there. Streets were blockaded with men and merchandise; ox trains, mule trains, and pack trains surrounded the town, waiting a chance to unload. The saw and hammer were busy in the put- ting up of storehouses, cabins, and in constructing sluice boxes for the washing out of gold, which was found in nearly every rod of its valley soil. Auctioneers were crying their wares, trade was lively, saloons crowded, hurdygurdy dance-houses in full blast; wild mustang horses, never before bridled or saddled, with Mexican riders upon their backs, whereon man never sat before, were running and jumping and kicking and bucking to unhorse their riders, much to the amusement of the jeering crowd, and presenting a scene as exciting as a Spanish bull fight. There was also suspended to the limb of a tree a man hung by the Vigilance Committee the night before, which was the eighth specimen of similar fruit encased in leather boots that tree had borne in so many months. 112 ilfontana as it was, and as it is. [Aug., Saturday nights arid Sunday mornings miners would come into town with their weeks wages, and they would drink, dance, and gamble, and gamble, dance, arid drink till their money was gone, and then go back to camp after the excite- ment of the day was over, completely strapped, to work another week, and then renew the folly at its close. Is it any wonder, then, that such indulgence, under such influences, should blossom into crime? The disbanding of Prices army in Missouri brought to the territory a rough, restless element from that source, and although courts had been organized ready for business in two districts, the Vigilantes continued their work. Now and then a man would be found hanging by the neck at a good place for observation, with a label upon upon his back, Road Agent, and that was all the explanation ever given. Road Agent was a mountain phrase to designate a highway robber or per- petrator of kindred crimes. At a conference with the other judges, I spoke of this mode of life-taking, and insisted that such cases should be noticed by the courts. One of the judges, who understood the neces- sity of sure, speedy work with criminals, said for the present he was content to let the Vigilantes go on; they could attend to this branch of jurisprudence cheaper, quicker, and better than it could be done in the courtsbesides we had no secure jails in which to confine criminals. The other judge coincided with him, and said: If you attempt to try one of these Road Agentsin the courts, his comrades will get him clear, or if he should be convicted, the lives of the witnesses who testify against him, and of the judge who sentences him, will not be worth the shoes they wear. My court opened the first week in August, 1865. In my charge to the grand jury, I took occasion to say that the temple of justice was that day opened for the first time in that district for the trial of civil and criminal causes, and that, however satisfactory an excuse there might hitherto have been for secret trials, and midnight executions by impulsive, irresponsible persons, no such necessity existed any longer; and that all such proceedings must now be left to the courts. 1889.] Alontana as it was, and as it is. 113 My next term opened in December, 1865. A murder had jnst been committed. Through the vigilance of the court- officers the murderer was arrested and held for trial in the court. A rescne and summary punishment of the prisoner was threat- ened. The officers of the court (the jail not being very secure) guarded the prisoner to prevent escape or rescue. At night the prisoner was taken from the jail to the court room, where it was warm and comfortable for the officers on duty; one leg of the prisoner was shackled and secured to a staple in the floor. The officers, well armed, remained on duty through the night in the room, while a trusty sentinel patrolled outside to prevent surprise. This was more agreeable to the prisoner who was afraid of rescue and summary punishment, than pleasant to his keepers. No braver officers ever lived than the marshal and his deputies, Neil Howie, John Featherstone, and J. X. Biedler, and it gives me personal pleasure to accord to them the merit of having contributed largely to the establishment of order and good government over the discordant elements in the territory. The grand jury was in attendance, and I charged them upon the work before them, and upon such other matters as might be the subject of inquiry if occasion should arise during the term. They found a true bill against the prisoner and I ex- cused their further attendance upon the court for a w~ek, at which time they were again to appear in court without further summons or notice. The prisoner was put upon trial for the offence charged in the indictment. The officers guarded him day and night. The court room was packed during the whole trial, the Vigilantes were said to be largely represented. The verdict of the Jury was murder in the second degree, which was satisfactory to the court, and the community; no appeal was taken. Sentence was passed, and in less than thirty days from the commission of the homicide, the prisoner was serving out the penalty in the territorial prison at Virginia City. Thomas F. Meagher, Secretary and acting Governor of the Territory at the time, while under the influence of an unfortu- nate habit, pardoned and set the prisoner at liberty! On being released from prison, the man went back to Helena, swearing revenge upon the witnesses who had testified against him. Arriving at Helena about 9 oclock in the evening, he was im~ voL. xv. 8 114 Afontana as it was, and as it is. [Aug., mediately surrounded by the Vigilantes and was hanged at 10 oclock, with the pardon in his pocket. This was the 9th specimen of kindred fruit that famons hang-mans tree at Helena had borne in one year. They all went np with their boots on; and as death found them, so the grave covered them. This trial in the courts for murder was the first ever held in the territory, and it marked a new era in its jurisprudence. No further threats of rescue were heard during all the after years of my judicial administration there. After I left iMion- tana, I learned that four other persons were hung upon that fa- mous tree by the Vigilantes, thirteen in all, when a clergyman, ostensibly to reform the morals of the community, cut the tree down, and when it was safely housed, peddled it out, for canes, and that tree became as famous for the number of canes it pro- duced, as it had been, for the number of persons that had cast their last look up among its branches, before testing the strength of its fibers at the end of a rope. From 24 to 36 hours of good hanging was generally consid- ered long enough to warrant a certificate that life was extinct, and the body ready for burial. THE MONTANA BA1~ was composed in the main of well educated, good lawyers, and accomplished gentlemen, some of whom had held judicial posi- tions in the States before going there. They were loyal to their profession, to the courts and the commonwealth, and their influence did much to bring order out of chaos, and estab- lish good government for the people. The machinery of civil government had now come into good working order. Green Clay Smith had arrived as Governor; Secretary Meagher in a fit of delirium had fallen into the Missouri river, and its murky floods swept his body out of sight forever. The three co-ordinate branches of civil government were in harmony for the future glory of the Terri~ tory. Emigration of families of the better class came there for future homes. Fond wives and devoted mothers had said in the language of Ruth: Whither thou goest I will go, where thou lodgest I will lodge, thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. 1889.1 Afion,tana as it was, and as it is. 115 The presence of virtuous women inspired rough miners with respect, and their gentle admonitions to the wayward prodigal were like merciful visitations to the doomed. Missionary work was commenced, churches were built and schools opened. Ten thousand people gathered into Helena, and good society blessed the land. All the throbbing impulses of a prosperous com- monwealth beat in harmony for its future glory. Agriculture, commerce, arts, and sciences began to flourish. Harvests bountiful and rich gladdened the valleys; flocks and herds multiplied, and gold and silver rewarded industry at the mines. I cannot give the exact amount of gold and silver taken from Montana since its organizati3n to the present. From 1864 to December 31, 1878, there was collected for the United States Revenue department $732,394.68. The report of the Director of the Mint at Philadelphia to the Secretary of the Treasury, giving an account of all the gold and silver deposited at the mints and assay offices of the United States for coinage, from all the gold and silver-producing States and Territories, twenty-eight in number, since the organ- ization of each to the close of the fiscal year, June 30, 1885, credits Montana with $67,792,617.27, for coinage alone. A tabulated report, compiled by the Commissioner of States and Territories to the Secretary of the Treasury, year 1884, page 286, gives the amount of the placer-gold of Montana taken from 1864 to 1884 at $150,000,000. The printed annual statements of Wells, Fargo Express Company, dated January 1st, 1885, for the year 1884, gives an account of the gold and silver shipped by them from Montana in the year 1884, at $11,862,000. Their like statement for the year 1885 credits Montana with $14,224,572; year 1886 $20,840,000; 1887 $25,483,275. To these amounts should be added what goes out of the territory in other ways and channels besides those of Wells, Fargo Express Company. Governor Hauser of Montana, Presi- dent of the Kational Bank at Helena, and largely interested in mining, estimated before a Congressional committee, the out- put of the mines there in 1886, at $30,000,000, of which $10,000,000 went directly to Europe. 116 iJlontana as it was, and as it ~s. [Aug., From these separate data and sources of information, may be gathered an idea of the marvelous mineral wealth in Montana. From the best estimate I can form after careful examination, I place the product of gold and silver taken from Montana between 1864 and January 1, 1889, at from $300,000,000 to $325,000,000. Rich in gold and silver, it is also rich in copper, lead, iron, and coal. With the opening of railroads, the introduction of improved machinery crushing the gold and silver ores, the facilities for mining and saving the products, we may expect a large in- crease from the mines there in the years to come. Pure gold is worth $19.20 per ounce, or $230.40 per pound. Coin gold is worth $18.00 per ounce, or $216.00 a pound, the difference being in short weight, and alloy used to harden the coin. During my early residence there, gold dust was the circu- lating medium, and contracts were made and purchases settled for in this commodity. Each place of business had its little scales where balances were adjusted. In the saloons where whiskey was sold at 30 cents a drink, the beam of the scales went down with the weight of gold as rapidly as the whiskey went down the throats of the drinkers. It was easy to tell which had the advantage in this exchange. Sometimes a looker-on, seeing the size of the drinks, would conclude that the drinker thought himself a long way ahead in the exchange, and the oftener he drank the more sure he became that such was the fact. MONTANA 15 INvITING. The power and dread of the Indian is gone. Cattle, horses, and sheep roam in fatness and contentment upon the hills and in the valleys. Christian homes dot the landscape, golden harvests gladden the fields, old routes of travel are improved and safe. The Union Pacific Railroad with its branches reach up into the Territory for its commerce, with palace cars for comfortable travel. The Northern Pacific Railroad is com- pleted, running through Helena, the capital of the Territory, and on to the Pacific Ocean. So that now we can take the cars in New England, and with but few changes ride to the 1889.1 ilifiontana as it was, and as it is. 117 gold fields and silver mines of Montana with ease and comfort, visiting the Yellowstone Park, natnres wonderland, unequaled in marvelous natural wonders on the globe. Chnrches are well filled on the Sabbath, schools are provided with accom- plished teachers, society is good and life as secure there as in cities in the States. The population of Montana is estimated at 140,000, which with their natural increase, supplemented with the emigration ponring into the territory, are rapidly swelling its numbers; and Tins is MONTANA, fair in proportions, vigorous in growth, athletic in develop- inent. What shall be her future? Standing as we do at the bright morning of her existence, it is proper not only to con- template the brightness of her rising, but to anticipate the glories that shall mingle in her noonday splendor. Her years to come shall be marked with a teeming populationa vigor- ous, full development of all the agencies that shall make her a happy, prosperous commonwealth, whose representative hands shall soon help guide the destinies of the republic in the councils of the nation; and if the liberties of the people be- come engulfed beneath the surging waves of political strife, her monntain homes shall preserve their charter till the storm is passed, and then hand it down to a ransomed people whose God is the Lord. L. E. MuNsoN. 118 Jfedical Profession, iiledical Sects, and Law. [Aug., ARTICLE 111.THE MEDICAL PROFESSION, THE MED ICAL SECTS, AND THE LAW.* Ladies ar~,d Gentlemen: I STAND here wondering, wondering that you have invited me to address yon, and that I have had the audacity to accept your flattery. Had I known that so famous and really great an orator as Mr. Chauncey iDepew was to follow me this after- noon my courage would have failed me; but perhaps it is fit- ting after all,for I have noticed in the far-off Dakota High- lands, where the sun is most unrelenting in the intensity of his splendor, that the twilight which ushers in the master of the day is grayest, coldest, most colorless. Many, perhaps all of you, have knowledge of Sir Joseph Fayrer,great, as he is, among the great doctors of Eng- land. Led by circumstances in his early manhood to India, the stripling soon became famous, not merely for his medical skill, but for the imperturbability, the successful intelligence, with which he faced in the jungle the Bengal tiger, or in the trenches or street m& 16e the merciless rage of the re- bellious Sepoy. Thus it came to pass that when the Prince of Wales was about to visit India and some one was wanted who had the moral courage to give positive direction to his wanderings, and physical courage to thrust himself, if need be, between the Prince and the Mohammedan fanatic, striv- ing to reach paradise through assassination,that the future Sir Joseph was selected. At once in the eyes of the English nation his greatness became colossal ;had he not sat in the very presence, aye, for a season had he not ruled the coming king? Some years since I chanced to meet at a reception a dignitary of the church of England, who, speaking to me of Sir Joseph Fayrer and his rise to power, said with truly British * The Annual Address in Medicine at Yale University, delivered in Battell Chapel, June 25, 1889, by H. C. WooD, M.D., LL.D. (Yale), Pro- fessor in the University of Pennsylvania.

118 Jfedical Profession, iiledical Sects, and Law. [Aug., ARTICLE 111.THE MEDICAL PROFESSION, THE MED ICAL SECTS, AND THE LAW.* Ladies ar~,d Gentlemen: I STAND here wondering, wondering that you have invited me to address yon, and that I have had the audacity to accept your flattery. Had I known that so famous and really great an orator as Mr. Chauncey iDepew was to follow me this after- noon my courage would have failed me; but perhaps it is fit- ting after all,for I have noticed in the far-off Dakota High- lands, where the sun is most unrelenting in the intensity of his splendor, that the twilight which ushers in the master of the day is grayest, coldest, most colorless. Many, perhaps all of you, have knowledge of Sir Joseph Fayrer,great, as he is, among the great doctors of Eng- land. Led by circumstances in his early manhood to India, the stripling soon became famous, not merely for his medical skill, but for the imperturbability, the successful intelligence, with which he faced in the jungle the Bengal tiger, or in the trenches or street m& 16e the merciless rage of the re- bellious Sepoy. Thus it came to pass that when the Prince of Wales was about to visit India and some one was wanted who had the moral courage to give positive direction to his wanderings, and physical courage to thrust himself, if need be, between the Prince and the Mohammedan fanatic, striv- ing to reach paradise through assassination,that the future Sir Joseph was selected. At once in the eyes of the English nation his greatness became colossal ;had he not sat in the very presence, aye, for a season had he not ruled the coming king? Some years since I chanced to meet at a reception a dignitary of the church of England, who, speaking to me of Sir Joseph Fayrer and his rise to power, said with truly British * The Annual Address in Medicine at Yale University, delivered in Battell Chapel, June 25, 1889, by H. C. WooD, M.D., LL.D. (Yale), Pro- fessor in the University of Pennsylvania. 1889.1 Miedical Profission, Miedical Sects, and Law. 119 emphasis: Indeed he had wonderful luck; you know he was nothing bat a medical man. And so I come before you to-day, nothing but a medical man, having neither wit, nor words, nor worth, action nor utterance, nor the power of speech to stir mens blood. If inayhap in any way I can interest or instruct you, it must be by selecting some topic in which we have a common interest, but concerning which I have special knowl- edge. I have, therefore, ventured to call your attention to the condition of the medical profession in the United States, and the pressing need there is for legislation concerning it. It is hardly necessary for me to waste the moments in enforcing the truism that medical science is now capable of accomplishing good by the relief of pain, by the shortening of the time of disability, and occasionally by the actual saving of life. I may, however, be pardoned mentioning one fact demonstrated by the last census. The country woman, by her superior physical strength and her isolation, is better prepared for maternity than is her sister in the city; and yet the census shows that the mortality of child-bearing in the country is 10 per cent. greater than in the city, a result whose explanation seems to be found in the fact that medical aid is reached more slowly in the country than in the city, and that there is a larger proportion of improperly educated physicians in the conntry than in the town. The American medical profession has in it a multitude of rightly educated physicians, but it comprises also an enormous number who are but partially educated in their profession. Of all places in the universe,in America there are doctors and doctors. The American medical profession cannot be in any degree held responsible for its condition, not merely because it has no power over its own members after they have entered, but especially because it has no control over the gates through which men flock into it. In some States, the law allows any one to set up as a doctor who wishes; whilst where there is any law regulating the mode of entrance into the profession,such law usually puts the power of granting the right to practice into the hands of the medical college. To be sure the medical college is nominally required to examine the candidates and to shut out the unfit. Almost any small group of physicians can, 120 ilfedieal Profes8ion, iJikdical & cts, and Law. [Aug., however, constitnte themselves a medical school, and conduct their examinations so privately that no outsiders can know whether these trials be substance or shadow. The national vice, the imperative desire to get on in the immediate present, fills the land with persons who wish to get the right to practice medicine at the lowest outlay in money, time, and labor. For these candidates, the schools bid one against the other; and so the standard falls lower and lower; medical education becomes a farce, and the doors of entrance to practice stand wide open to any one who can raise a few hundred dollars. It is but a few years since, in the University of Michigan, a State institution supported by taxation, not subject, therefore, to the pressure of a struggling poverty,only two years of study were required for graduation in medicine; though he who wished to become an apothecary was forced to apply him- self for three full years; this time the servant was above his lord, the lesser more than the greater. At the recent examination for the Army Board, of thirty doctors who had been picked out from among the best grad- uates and had been especially prepared for the army examina- tion,only two reached the required standard. I believe myself that not 20 per cent. of the graduates of medicine in America could pass the State examination required in Germany for license to practice. Humiliating though it be, yet it is true that an American Medical Diploma has in itself no mean- ing, and that it will never be a true certificate of technical knowledge and education until it is supplemented by the law. I shall not weary you at this time with any detailed discus- sion of the laws which would be suitable for the circumstances in which we find ourselves in this republic, but shall try simply to throw some light upon the chief difficulty in the way of practical legislation,namely the existence of the so called sects of medicine. The practical legislator sees the American medical profession apparently made up of warring sects, each claiming to hold the truth, each jealous of the other; and he drops the whole subject, because it seems to him impossible to reconcile these differences, and to make a law which shall be at once satisfactory and just; or, as in Pennsylvania, by grasping at the shadow of justice he misses the substance; and he 1889.] 3fedical Profession, iJliedical Sects, and Law. 121 places or attempts to place the interests of six thousand regular physicians under the control of seven hundred so-called irre~- ular doctors. He gives or attempts to give legal acknowledg- ment to the existence of so-called schools of medicine; whereas the law ought never to recognize the existence of medical sects, because they are accidents of the day and cannot be per- manent. Error or half truths may for a time be mistaken for realities, but must be only for a time. Indeed, at present, practitioners of medicine are divided simply into two great camps or bodies. On the one side are those physicians who are generally known as regulars, allopaths, or old-school doctors; on the other side are the various sects of medicine, homzeo- paths, eclectics, with a miscellaneous rabble beneath them of Christian scientists, faith cure, and oxygen quacks, electrical specialists, and so on, and so on. The regular profession of medicine is not a sect, it does not confess allegiance to any one dominant principle; it refuses to believe in any single definite therapeutic dogma; it strives simply in every possible way by the aid of science and experience to help the sick. The sects of medicine, however, are guided or claim to be guided by certain fixed principles which they worship as therapeutic laws. They are of necessity dogmatic and exclusive; they deserve and are proud to be known by titles which savor in themselves of exelusivism. Narrow and dogmatic in adherence to alleged principles, they must perish or become absolutely dominant according as these principles shall prove to be false or true. The code of ethics, published by the American Medical Association is to the regular physician what the creed is to the churchman ;the only binding clause which it contains re- stricting the freedom of belief or practice says,- But no one can be considered a regular practitioner, or a fit associate in consultation, whose practice is based upon exclusive dogma, the rejection of the accumulated experience of the profession, and of the aids actually furnished by anatomy, physiology, pathol- ogy, and organic chemistry.~~ The regular profession rejects homzeopathy, eclecticism, allopathy, and all other pathies,~ because they are narrow, and leaves absolutely to the judgment of the individual practitioner the method in which he shall treat the individual case of dis 122 iJIedical Profession, iWiedical Sects, and Law. [Aug., ease before him,claiming oniy that the practitioner shall not bind himself within the narrow hoops of an exclusive dogma. Of the various sects of medicine, the only one which by its numbers and influence challenges our attention is the homes- opathic. The essential doctrines of ilahuemannism were originally three. The first of these taught that chronic disease is the result of a general poisoning of the system by a humor, which, when it finds its way to the surface causes the itch. Microscopic investigation, and the consequent discovery of the itch insect, long since gave to this theory its quietus. The second doctrine of homceopathy, which still survives to some extent, inculcates, not merely that certain substances are indefinitely active in exceedingly small doses; but that a sub- stance like chalk which is in large doses inert, becomes, under the influence of trituration and dilution possessed of intensely active properties, as though there were liberated from it a spirit of healing which had been imprisoned in its material grossness. More than this Hahnemann taught that it was pos- sible by the mere violence of the trituration to potentise almost to infinity. In his Lesser Writings he says, If we wish, for example, to attenuate a drop of the juice of Sundew to the thirtieth degree, but shake each of the bottles with twenty or more succussions from a powerful arm, in the hand of which the bottle is held, in that case this medicine which I have dis- covered, the specific remedy for the frightful epidemic, whoop- ing cough of children, will have become so powerful in the fifteenth attenuation (spiritualized), that a drop of it given in a teaspoonful of water would endanger the life of such child; whereas, if each dilution bottle were shaken but twice (with two strokes of the arm), and prepared in this manner up to the thirtieth attenuation, a sugar globule, the size of a poppy seed, moistened with the last attenuation, cures this terrible disease (whooping cough) with this single dose, without endangering the health of the child in the slightest degree. In other words Hahuemaun taught that the activity of a medicine de- pended upon the number of times it had been shaken, and that medical inertness by excessive shaking may become con- verted into almightiness. Remembering the numbers of the followers of Hahuemaun, surely the bitterness of Carlyle 1889.] Afedical Professi~rn, Al edical Sects, and Law. 123 when he says Where ten men are gathered together there are nine fools,seems jnstified. It is the third doctrine of llahnemann which has been and still is the rallying point of his followers, and which is claimed to be the fnndamental trnth of his teachings ;it is the so-called law of si?rtilia sirnilibus curantur; in accordance with which a symptom prodnced by a disease is to be cnred by a small dose of a remedy, which, when given freely to a healthy man, will eanse the same symptom. Strange is it not that this alleged law which has made immortal the name of Hahnemann was not originally framed by him, bnt is plainly stated in the works of that really great man,Hippocrates? For 2300 years this generalization has snrvived; it mnst possess some pecnliar vitality, some measnre of trnth and I myself believe that as a rnle of practice it will at times lead to a good resnlt. As illns- trating the snbject let me snppose a case of vomiting. Ipeca- cnana when given in large doses will canse vomiting, bnt nnder certain circnmstances when administered in minnte qnantity it will relieve vomiting. Witnessing snch administration and snch triumph, the bystander cries, Great is similia sim,ili- bus curantur, and Hahnemann is its prophet. Ent a second ease of vomiting appears which is increased by ipecacnana and is relieved by opinm, which does not vomit when given to the normal man in large doses, bnt makes him insnsceptible to the action of emetics. INow the npholder of the doctrine of dissimilia dissim~ilibus curantur, cries, Behold I have the trnth,the remedy which prodnces the opposite to the symp- tom is the remedy to relieve the symptom. It is plain that neither in homceopathy or allopathy, in the doctrine of similars or in the doctrine of dissimilars, is there the whole trnth. A law of natnre has no exception, and if excep- tions be fonnd to an alleged law, it is plain that the law is only an allegation and not a reality. If we were to find that at times weight disappears, that objects, not nnder the infinence of some opposing force or resistance, fail to fall to the earth, then we wonld know that the INewtonian generalization of the attraction of gravity was not a law of natnre. Neither allopathic or homo~opathic doctrines are laws,they are mere expressions of coincidences, each of them base coin gilded 124 llfedical Profession, 3fedical Sects, and Law. [Aug., with just sufficient of truth to pass curreut with the iguoraut aud uuwary. Symptoms are the mere surface play of disease, markiug ouly with great uucertaiuty the curreuts, whirlpools, aud rocks that lie hidden far underneath. Symptoms appar- ently the same may be the outcome of entirely different bodily conditions. Modern science as applied to the treatment of disease attempts not simply to deal with symptoms, but to interpret them so as to get beneath to the conditions which are their underlying causes. Take the cases of vomiting just spoken of: one man vomits because the stomach is in a condition of de- pression, and a stimulant like ipecacuana relieves the vomiting by removing the cause, i. e., the depression; another patient vomits from irritation of the stomach, and he is made worse by an irritant like ipecacuana, but is relieved by a substance like opium, which is soothing and numbing. Time presses. I cannot undertake to-day to expose with any fullness the fallacies of hoiuo~opathy; merely would I give you a glimpse of their incompleteness, t~eir falsity, their absurdity. When, however, we have demonstrated the lack of truth in these doctrines, we are invariably met by two arguments. The first of these is that which is expressed in the old proverb, Praise the bridge that carried yon over. Undoubtedly thousands of sick have recovered when the angel of ministra- tion has had its wings covered with homo~opathic plumes. I have already stated, however, that sometimes the so-called law of similars is a successful theory for work. But far more potent than this is the fact that in most acute diseases the natural tendency is toward recovery, so that the most intelligent physician often finds himself at fault in attempting to decide upon impartial review of a case how much has been post hoc and how much has been proctor hoc; how far the recovery has been brought about through the action of the remedies which have been given, or whether perchance it may not have occurred in spite of these remedies. Some years since in the smoking cabin of a trans-Atlantic liner I was tormented by a homceopathic believer who wanted to know why this, and that, and the other case, was cured by homzeopathy ;when a little wizen-faced Frenchman, who could 125 1889.1 Jiliedical Profes8wn, Jtliedical ASect8, and law. scarcely be seen through the denseness of the nicotine fumes, said, That reminds me of a story. And then he proceeded to say that in his native village when the shoemaker fell ill of a fever, the village school master said to the shoemakers wife, Give your husband pork and cabbage to eat, and he will get well of the fever. The pork and cabbage were taken in mass and the fever passed away. In the course of a few months the ring of the blacksmiths sledge upon the anvil was quiet, and the sympathizing shoemaker soon found that the cause was a fever which had attacked the blacksmith. Pork and cabbage, cried the shoemaker in the ears of the black- smiths wife, cures fever,it cured me. And so the pork and cabbage were given to the blacksmith, who in a few hours yielded up the ghost. The shoemaker lifted up his hands in astonishment when he beheld the emblems of monrning hang- ing over the door. Taking out his note book he read. Yes, yes, here it is, pork and cabbage cures feverright, but the blacksmith died. Suddenly he cried, as the sunlight of assurance chased from his face the cloud of perplexity, I have it now,pork and cabbage cures shoemakers, but kills blacksmiths. The pork and cabbage system of practice of medicine has been world-wide, and still is but too often tri- umphant. The second argument for the upholding of homo~opathy is its alleged success. If this theory be false, why has it obtained power over the minds of so many men, and why do its fol- lowers multiply ~ It would be easy to answer such questions by calling attention to the wide domain of quackery, ignorance, and humbug in practical medicine; but other forms of irregu- lar practice, other asserted therapeutic laws, although for awhile they may have held powerful sway, have been but short lived; and I confess to feeling that the apparent permanency of homzeopathy is the one forcible argument which has been advanced in its favor, and requires to be answered by the opponents of the system. The causes of the first success of homo~opathy are not far to seek. The regular medical practice of the day by its violence not rarely aided in causing the fatal result. The homceopathic practitioner, administering medicines only in in- 126 ilfiedieal Profession, ilfedical Sects, and Law. [Aug., finitesimal doses, left nature to itself, and claimed as his own triumph the superior result which was, in verity, simply the outcome of letting things alone. I have not time to illustrate this point in detail, or to quote from reports of cases showing how the sick room of the period often resembled a slaughter house. Let me, however, make one or two illustrations. In the year 1792 the pulse of Europe stood still at the news that the Em- peror, Leopold II. of Austria, the peacemaker of the century, was dead. The account of his illness published shortly after- ward showed that he had suffered from a purulent pleurisy, a disease always attended with feebleness and exhaustion,and yet in the course of thirty-six hours he had been freely bled four times and had expired shortly after the last venesection. Hahneuiann challenged the physicians to justify themselves, and the verdict of to-day must be that he was right, and that Leopolds death was hastened, if not absolutely produced, by the excessive loss of blood. Greatest of American physicians in the latter part of the last century, signer of the Declaration of Independence, foremost among patriots and wise men of his day, was Benjamin Rush; and he tells us that in the months of February and March, 1781, he cured a Methodist minister of consumption by taking from him eight pints of blood in the course of six weeks; that another case he cured by removing live pints in two weeks; but that a Mr. Tracy, of Connecticut, being an obstinate case of consumption, was only relieved by being bled eighty-five times in six months. If I could give you the history of bleed- ing, cupping, blistering, purgation, and other depleting reme- dies, you would wonder, not that the patients treated by the infinitesimalism of homeopathy got well, but that enough of our forefathers survived the physicians of their day to give origin to the nation of the present. The doctor of to-day is scarcely more like the doctor of a hundred years ago than was our Darwinian forefather blushing with shame at the sight of his first tailless offspring, like a Caucasian dandy. In an ex- perience of many thousands cases of disease only three or four times have I seen blood-letting. 1889.1 Jifedical Profes8ion, iJfedical Sec~8, and Law. 127 In its highest reach, modern medical science achieves far better results than can be obtained by simple nursing, or by the application of the rule of similars to practice. Why then has homcx~opathy not only rooted itself in the past, but why does it grow in the present? The answer to this is that the alleged prosperity of homo~opathy is not a reality, and that where the law requires physicians to be educated the homceopathic system withers. I have found it difficult to get reliable statistics in regard to the number of hoimieopathic practitioners in continental Europe, but the best that can be obtained are sufficient to prove con- clusively that both in Great Britain and the European continent the system is wasting to its death. Germany was the birth- place of Hahuemannism, but the Homo~opathic Medical Three- tory, published in London, shows that in Germany there are only 218 hom~opathic physicians. Recent official statistics prove that in Austria there are 7,183 medical men, of whom only 118 claim any connection with hom4zeopathy, and of these only 44 practice the system exclusively; there are none at all in the Italian districts, and but 19 in Yienna. The Homieo- pathic Directory already quoted shows that in 1875 there were in Great Britain and Ireland 269 homoi~opathic practitioners; in 1880 there were 275; in 1883, 260; and in 1889, 256 ;an actual decrease in the face of the enormous increase, not only of the general population, but also of the numbers of the regu- lar profession. For the remainder of Europe the homoi~opathic statistics are Belgium, 41; France, 97; Denmark, 7; Russia, 71; Italy, 55; Portugal, 2 Spain, 131; Switzerland, 26. Therefore, accord- ing to the latest statistics, taken from homo3opathic sources, there are on the continent of Enrope 1022 practitioners of homo~opathy,this in a population of at least three hundred millions of people. Surely a system which has attained such small proportion as this, and which is distinctly decreasing in its proportionate numbers cannot be said to be on an ascending plane. It is very interesting to note that the largest propor- tion of homo~opathic practitioners according to the population on the continent of Europe, is to be found in Spain,the one country where the general level of education is the lowest. 128 ljliedical Profession, Afedical Sects, and law. [Aug., In the United States, llahnemannism is probably holding its own; the reasons for the difference in the two conntries are probably mnltiple. In America, individualism inns wildest riot; irregnlarities of all kinds in religion, philanthropy, and medicine flourish. More potent in promoting Hahnemannism in America, however, than the peculiarities of the people are the deficiencies of the regular profession, and the fact that the American homo~opath rarely if ever confines himself to the practice of homceopathy. He professes theories, but in his daily life he lives not according to them. To sustain the statement that the American homo3opath does not practice homo~opathy I might well appeal to the knowledge of practitioners of medicine who come more or less in contact with their work during their own daily avocation. But evi- dence which can be less readily questioned is to be obtained directly from hom~opathic sources. In 1878, at the meeting of the New York Homo~opathic Association the following resolution was adopted: Resolved, That in common with other existing associations which have for their object investigations and other labors which may contribute to the promotion of medical science, we hereby declare that, although firmly believing the principle similia simili6us curantuv to constitute the best general guide in the selection of remedies, and fully intending to carry out this principle to the best of our ability, this belief does not debar us from recognizing and making use of the results of any experience; and we shall exercise and defend the inviolable right of every educated physician to make use of any estab- lished principle in medical science, or any therapeutical fact founded on experiments and verified by experience, so far as in his individual judgment they shall tend to promote the welfare of those under his professional care. It will be seen at once that the sentiments of the resolution which I have quoted are in concord with the American Medical Association, and any physician who will accept as his code of ethics this resolution can very well be a member of the Ameri- can Medical Association, and of the regular profession. No doubt the question has arisen in some of your minds, What proof is there that the medical profession is not as mis- 1889.] Afedical Profession, Jiliedical Sects, and Law. 129 taken in its practice to-day as it was during the last century ~ The answer to this question is,We know that we have really gained power over disease because we have adopted the modern scientific method, and have subordinated to it empiricism and bed-side experience. It seems to me but right to acknowledge that the revolution in medicine rests largely upon the results obtained by homceo- pathic practice. Modern medicine became possible not through any truth contained in the th6ories of the German dreamer; but because of the accidents that attended the working out of these theories. Ilahnemann deserves to rank among the worlds benefactors, not because his imagination made beauti- ful garments of truth, but because the web of falsehood which he wove proved to be the bridge over which the worlds thought traveled to find a great new truth, which proved to be the very corner stone of the new medical science. Hahnemann limited his followers to the use of doses so in- finitesimal that the patient was practically left to nature, and when it was seen that both in epidemic and sporadic diseases the results obtained by doing nothing were better than those obtained by doing much, then it was realized that most acute diseases are self-limited and tend to recovery; then were the consciences of men so quieted that they could with easy minds leave their patients alone. Then arose the so-called Vienna School of Therapeutics,the school of nihilism or nothing- doing, which led to the study of the natural history of disease when left undisturbed by drugs or other perturbating forces. The modern method consists in studying a disease, its causes, its progress, its results, the methods in which it works out either for life or for death; how it gets well,how it kills. In this way the doctor of to-day gets a clear idea of what he wants to do, learns whence the calamity is coming and what is to be averted. He next proceeds by experiments upon the lower animals, and upon men, to study the instruments which he has at his command; learns thoroughly what this drug does in the system, how it affects various functions, and how itself is acted upon. Having thus studied the disease and learned what he wants to do, and having studied the means which he has at command, voL. xv. 9 130 iJliedical Profession, ilfedical Sects, and Law. [Aug., he applies his means to the needs by inductive reasoning, by common sense, by the same mental process by which applied science builds bridges, crosses oceans, and alters the face of nature everywhere. The modern doctor is a man of science, a dynamic engineer whose field is not force in the inorganic world, but force as it manifests itself in the mysterious realm of the living ;he is a child of the nineteenth century. The homoi~opath is a mcdi- ~eval survival, clinging to an empiricism which he dignifies as a law, but which at best is only an old and very faulty rule of thumb, of which Prof. Chas. IMIohr, a far-famed hom& ~opathist, says: No rational explanation of the modus operandi of a cure under the so-called law had yet been made. It is a wonder that whilst the records of chemistry, physiology, natu- ral history, electricity, nay, of the whole range of the sciences are filled with the names of doctors well forward in the front rank of the famous, that after long searching, I have not been able to find one homuopathic practitioner holding even a second rate place in science? When Hahuemaun flourished the sciences upon which medicine is founded, chemistry, phys- iology, physics, pathology, etc., practically had no existence: and is it possible that out of such a night of ignorance should come a light so strong that, more potent than Chinese wall, it should for all time blind men to progress and to growth? No wonder that a homzeopathic writer (United States IMled- ical and Surgical Journal, January, 1867) after deploring that there are no works on the medical sciences written by homeo- paths, declares that homo~opathy is a humiliated beggar to allopathy, and exclaims produceproduce! Were it but the pitifullest infinitesimal fraction of a product, produce it,in Gods name To illustrate the method of modern medicine, take typhoid fever; much study has taught us that this fever has a course which cannot be put aside; that im~i the majority of cases it tends toward recovery; but that it sometimes kills by the ex- haustion which it produces, by the diarrhua which it causes, or the burning fever that accompanies it, or by various acci- dents. The doctor, knowing that he can no more cure typhoid fever than the captain of an ocean steamer can cure the coming 1889.] 911 edical Profes8ion, Afedical Sect& , and Law. 131 storm, tries, not to put aside the storm, but makes tight and trim the barque whose freight is life, aud strives to guide it safely through the tempest. The moment he sees the health barometer falling he puts the patient in a state of absolute rest so as to save the last grain of strength, for he knows that the time may come when a hands breadth shall make the difference between being wrecked on the promontory or scraping by the cruel rocks into the safe harbor of convalescence; by the care- ful selection of food and the use of local remedies he lessens the intestinal irritation and keeps the diarrhoi~a in check; by cold he takes out the extreme heat of fever; and so, every- where watching, he guides his patient safely through; perhaps during the whole course of the disease giving very little medi- cine, but fearing not in a crisis to support most boldly and vigorously some failing vital function. Above all things modern therapeutics teaches that medicine is to be given only with a clearly defined, definite object, and that very rarely are violent procedures, and excessive perturbations, of service. Modern medical science, though it has a right to be proud of its achievements, is humble in the thought of its deficiencies; its votaries, living ever in the presence of failure and death, feel most keenly the limitations of their power, and in no other branch of human knowledge is there such strenuous activity, such feverish out-reachings. In the year 1888 about fifteen thousand doctors wrote medical articles, some of which were short, but not a few of which were long; moreover, of the fifteen thousand authors many wrote several papers; not ten per cent. of these memoirs brought direct pecuniary reward to their authors. Does the world know of another mass of technical literature comparable to this? In its philanthropic deeds, in its large desire to do good, in its intellectual power, in its greatness and its enthusiasm, the medi- cal profession is second to none. Self-interest too yokes itself with scientific and intellectual zeal to urge every member to make new discoveries, new applications, to try new processes, and in every way practically perfect himself. If any ism arise, if any new system of practice having aught of plausibility be brought forward, it is at once tested in a thousand sick-rooms. Jaborandi from the South American native; pink root from the 132 iiliedical Prqfession, gedical Sects, and Law. [Aug., North American Indian; cotton root from the Southern negro; kooso from the Abyssinian barbarian; convallaria from the Russian peasant; cod liver oil from the fish wives of Holland; antipyrin from the German laboratories; veratrum viride from American country practitioners; hyoscine from the hospitals and vivesecting post of these United States; from all quarters, from the earth and from the waters under the earth, have we garnered what we possess. In truth the fault of the medical profession of the present day is its too great credulity; its too great readiness to try new things; its excessive willingness to follow any one who cries Eureka ! Whatsoever of good there has been in Eclecticism, in Hahuemannism, or in bare-faced quackery,whatsoever of knowledge could be obtained from popular beliefs,all these have we appropriated. The assertion that the regular profession is hampered by prejudice and big- otry from properly weighing and testing all methods, is an un- truth disproven by the whole history of modern medicine. Not a man among us but feels the personal conflict with disease, and snatches at any weapon wherewith to strike the foe. We com- pass heaven and earth that for one hour we may stay the steps of the ever on-coming conquering death. Hovel and palace, rich land and wilderness, rivers, oceans, continents we search, ignorance and knowledge we question with the anxious eager- ness of men whose all is at stake. Such then, ladies and gentlemen, is modern medicine on the one hand, theories and isin~ on the other; modern medicine always absorbing, always progressing, always and everywhere following out any clue which may offer itself. So sure as knowledge must triumph over ignorance, and science over false beliefs,so surely will medicine continue onward,squeez- ing out of every ism whatever of good is in it, assimilating all that is helpful and climbing over failure and success alike to higher and better things. Under such circumstances, for the law to recognize medical theories or medical sects would be monstrous; they are things of to-day, to-morrow to be left far behind. Law is for all time. Rome enthroned upon the hills above the tawny Tiber, ruled the known earth by the physical power of her disciplined phalanxes and their short swords; but progress left these far behind, and to-day a Roman legion would 1889.] Aliedical Prqfe88ion, M~dical Sect8, and Law. 133 be driven from the earth by a mere company of soldiers. Though her physical power has long since decayed, Rome still rules the world, because in the greatness of her intellect she recognized that the principles of law are eternal and laid fast hold upon them. Among the nations she first filled herself with the fullness of the thought that law should be an expression of justice, and not a patchwork of expediency for the present. As plainly to be seen aud as fixed as the two great mountain chains which give form and climate to the American continent, are the principles which should underlie medical legislation. These principles are: first, to control the entrance to the pro- fession, so that no man can begin to practice medicine until he is thoroughly acquainted with the fundamental sciences, anat- omy, chemistry, pathology, physiology, the natural history of disease, etc., which underlie the art of medicine; second, to allow the man whose education in these sciences has been coin- plete, and who has in consequence received a license to practice medicine, to apply his knowledge to the treatment of disease according to his own best judgment untrammeled by the law. Let the medical practitioner be homzeopath, allopath, or no path at allonly see to it that he is an educated man. Ladies and gentlemen, have I wearied you? Has my subject seemed inappropriate? Let this be my apology nearly a quarter of a century since, a dying man, brutally murdered by the ignorance and recklessness of a regular practitioner of medicine, said to me, iDoctor, here are my wife and six little children,with me their livelihood goes out,in Gods name cant you save inc ? Then and there I registered a mental vow never to rest in this matter until the reform was accomplished, or my voice was silent in the grave. May I mention one further illustrationone out of many? I have seen a man who enjoyed a very large practice in a flourishing country district of Pennsylvania, who had the esteem, not only of the leading citizens of his county, but also of his brother practitioners, and who was strongly endorsed by the president of his county medical society, and yet who could not on examination tell on which side of the body the liver lies, or where the diaphragm is, or what it is used for. The 134 Miedical Profession, iJfiedical Sects, and Law. [Aug., country bumpkin learns from the pigs he kills in the autumn more anatomy than this man knew. These things may seem trifling to some of you, but I tell you they are deathdeath lurking often where least expected. Yesterday the valley of the Conemaugh resounded with the roar of furnace, the clang of iron on iron, and was filled with the prattle of women and children in the homes of twenty thousand busy workers. A moment of terror, a roar of water, a wild wail, fire and flood, and the valley grew still as the valley of death. Then America, stirred to its center, poured out its millions of money with a generosity the history of the world does not parallel. But what of the 8,000 corpses cold and stiff in their mud graves? Dead, because the government had not done its dutydead, because the government which should have protected its citizens allowed a few rich men with a dam of hay and boughs and earth to hold up 700 millions of tons of water 300 feet above the doomed citya governmental crime just as peculiarly American as was the sympathetic popular outburst which followed the catastrophe. In the presence of the dead of Coneinaugh the nation bows in sorrow; but before God I tell you that it is my belief, founded on the largest experience, that if the dead, who in the last fifty years have been sacrificed in these United States upon the altar of professional ignorance could this day rise before us, the thous- ands of Conemaugh would be lost in the multitude; silently, heralded by no roar of flood, mourned by no outburst of national remorse or sorrow, one by one they have passed over; a never-ending holocaust to governmental imbecility. Is it not possible to awaken the people of the United States to the fact that the medical profession holds the lives of men, women, and children in the hollow of its hands; and as is done in every other civilized country, so also in this should the law require that the man at least should be technically educated before such power is committed to his keeping? 1889.] flAke Gentleman in Politic8. 135 ARTICLE IV. THE GENTLEMAN IN POLITICS. MUSTAPHA IRUB-A-IDUB-KELI KHANaS many of our readers will doubtless rememberwas one of those imaginary charac- ters who figure so charmingly in Salmagundi ; and whose humorous criticisms on all the current topics of the day political and socialin the first decade of the present century, delighted our grand-fathers and grand-mothers over their tea- tables, and made the whim-whams of Launcelot Langstaff, Esq., immortal in our American literature. This redoubtable personage, whose formidable name we have here given in full, was the creation, we believe, of the wit of James 1K. Paulding. He is represented to have been the commander of a ketch belonging to His Highness, the Bashaw of Tripoli, which had been captured by an American frigate in an action oil Tripoli, and brought as a prize to this country. On its arrival in New York, IMlustapha Rub-a-Dub Keli Khan, the officer in chief command, was at once taken up by the leaders of society, and under their guidance he had an opportunity of studying all our American institutions and cus- toms to the very best advantage. The results of his observa- tions he communicated freely by letter to one of his friends at home, Asem Hacchem, principal slave-driver to the Court of Tripoli ; and these letters in some mysterious manner found their way regularly to the pages of Salmagundi. They abound with nafve remarks and whimsical criticisms, very few of which have yet lost their point. Many of the most expres- sive terms and phrases, also, which are in common use at the present day among us, owe their origin to the inventive inge- nuity displayed in his correspondence by this same Tripolitan officer who is supposed to have walked the streets of New York three-quarters of a century ago. As a specimen of the kind of humor with which his letters abound, we will give very brieflyfor the benefit of those who unfortunately are not familiar with Salmagundi some idea of the conirnents which this devout Mohammedan makes upon

1889.] flAke Gentleman in Politic8. 135 ARTICLE IV. THE GENTLEMAN IN POLITICS. MUSTAPHA IRUB-A-IDUB-KELI KHANaS many of our readers will doubtless rememberwas one of those imaginary charac- ters who figure so charmingly in Salmagundi ; and whose humorous criticisms on all the current topics of the day political and socialin the first decade of the present century, delighted our grand-fathers and grand-mothers over their tea- tables, and made the whim-whams of Launcelot Langstaff, Esq., immortal in our American literature. This redoubtable personage, whose formidable name we have here given in full, was the creation, we believe, of the wit of James 1K. Paulding. He is represented to have been the commander of a ketch belonging to His Highness, the Bashaw of Tripoli, which had been captured by an American frigate in an action oil Tripoli, and brought as a prize to this country. On its arrival in New York, IMlustapha Rub-a-Dub Keli Khan, the officer in chief command, was at once taken up by the leaders of society, and under their guidance he had an opportunity of studying all our American institutions and cus- toms to the very best advantage. The results of his observa- tions he communicated freely by letter to one of his friends at home, Asem Hacchem, principal slave-driver to the Court of Tripoli ; and these letters in some mysterious manner found their way regularly to the pages of Salmagundi. They abound with nafve remarks and whimsical criticisms, very few of which have yet lost their point. Many of the most expres- sive terms and phrases, also, which are in common use at the present day among us, owe their origin to the inventive inge- nuity displayed in his correspondence by this same Tripolitan officer who is supposed to have walked the streets of New York three-quarters of a century ago. As a specimen of the kind of humor with which his letters abound, we will give very brieflyfor the benefit of those who unfortunately are not familiar with Salmagundi some idea of the conirnents which this devout Mohammedan makes upon 136 like Gentleman in Politics. [Aug., the American method of offering religious worship. He wit- nessed himself what he attempted to describe. He says that, on arriving in Boston, his attention was attracted by a very conspicnons bnilding which stood on the snmmit of a high hill. Snpposing it to be a religious temple, and desiring to learn what was the natnre of the rites celebrated in it, he ascended the long flight of steps which led to the principal entrance. On entering, he fonnd himself in a large rotunda, in which stood a marble statne of the chief divinity of the American peoplewho is known by the name of Washington. Aronnd this statue, ran a light railing of wood, which served to keep the worshippers at a respectful distance. But lan- guage entirely failed him when he undertook to describe his surprise at what lie beheld! He writes to his friend that ac- cording to the ceremonial as he saw it, the believer advances to the railingin his ordinary dress apparentlyleans with his elbows upon it, and, while he gazes fixedly upon the statue, proceeds to discharge, again and again, tobacco juice from his mouth on the marble pavenient before this representative of divinity. Having done this the required number of times with the utmost gravity, he retires with a look of contentment and self-satisfaction. That this description of the Tripolitan Captain is literally true, the present writer is able to testify. Some years ago, when a college student, he visited in vacation the Athens of America for the first time with a classmate now a Doctor of Divinity in the city of New Yorkand the place of all others which those two youths at once sought out was the religious temple immortalized by IMlustapha Rub-a-Dub IKeli Khan. There they beheld all the rites of worship as they are described in Salmagundi. Possibly, in the lapse of years, in the process of evolution, the rites may have been somewhat varied. At the present day, the tobacco, instead of being masticated, may now perhaps be burned in the mouths of the worshippers, and the smoke may be then blown like incense through their nostrils; or, perhaps this is done interchangeably with the traditional spitting. Another of the national peculiarities which excited the wonder of IMlustapha Rub-a-Dub Keli Khan was the extraor- dinary license which was allowed to the editors of news- 1889.] The Gentleman in Politics. 137 papers. In his letter to his friend Asem Hacchem, he explains to him that while the American people are a very martial people, they are also at the same time even more distinguished for their devotion to commerce and agriculture. As it was therefore impossible for the great body of industrious citizens to be incessant brawlers, they have accordingly delegated the whole work of public and private vituperation to a distinct class of men, denominated editors or slang-whangers, whose business it is in every town, village, and district, to carry on perpetual warfare. He exclaims, Oh! my friend, could you but witness the enormities sometimes committed by these tre- mendous slang-whangers, your very turban would rise in horror and astonishment. The enormity, however, which especially excites his wonder is that these slang-whangers are permitted to invade even the kitchens of their opponents, that they may there pick up scraps of information with which they may blast their reputation. We have been reminded again and again, during the past three or four months, of this unsophisticated yet dignified personagewho once charmed the readers of Salmagundi and of the horror with which he spoke of the slang- whangers of his day, as we have seen in certain newspapers a constantly recurring succession of paragraphs in which the personal doings of the present chief magistrate of the Ameri- can people, and of the members of his Cabinet, have been made the theme of ridicule. We confess that they have awakened our curiosity to know how that Mohammedan gentle- manif he were still alivewould have expressed his opinion with regard to them in his letters to Asem Hacehem. Perhaps he might have suggested to his friend that it really ought not to be a matter of astonishment that a people who could spit tobacco juice at their chief divinity, as an act of religious worship, should also allow writers in their newspapers to dis- charge the venom of their speech at their chief magistrate, for the amusement of the rabble. Possibly he would also have recalled to the recollection of his friend the fact that the African savage who will risk his life for the fetich whom he holds to be his god, will yet scold him, beat him, and subject him to every indignity. Without doubt a native of Tripoli 138 like Gentleman in Politics. [Aug., would at once understand how this principle of human nature must have its influence on the American people, and would accept it as a satisfactory explanation of the reason that they allow their President to be treated with similar indignities. He would understand this, perhaps, the more readily, as his correspondent would probably proceed to inform him that while such abuse was permitted to American citizens, yet if the subject of a foreign despot, in any one of the effete monarchies of Europe, should dare to whisper a hundredth part of what is said so frequently and openly in these news- papers, the wrath of every mickiein the land would be at once kindled, and a demand would be made for an immediate apology. Yet, at the same time, men of education and posi- tion will allow language to be employed publicly with regard to the President, which certainly they would never themselves use in private, when speaking of any other gentleman. Now no one objects to intelligent criticism of the public acts of the President of the United States. It is fair that each one of these should be scrutinized, and freely commented upon; but to make his private conduct or private conversation the subject of ridicule is a very different thing. The President of the United States is presumably a gentleman. These news- paper writers have not, we believe, questioned that. But even if be were not, would it not be better policy to treat him as if he were, if for no higher reason than to remind him of the way in which he should deport himself in his high office? We have seen it stated that this kind of abuse, on which we comment, has characterized only a certain class of newspapers. However this may be, during the present weekJuly 4th and 5thwe have seen in one of the ablest of the journals pub- lished in the City of INew York, an account of a private visit which the President was making to a friendwhich did not involve in the slightest way any question of public policyin which he is treated, by the funny man of the paper, with a mock civility which is no better than buffoonery! Nearly every gentleman, also, with whom he came in contact during his journey, is treated in the same manner. Now, such abuse of the chief magistrate of the nation is demoralizing in its tendency; and we are confident that no inconsiderable part of 1889.1 The Gentleman in I~olitics. 139 the American people regard it as an offence to decency. How far is this abnse to go? Are we to have the Justices of the Supreme Conrt at Washington held up as public laughing stocks? There was a time in the history of onr countrynot very long agowhen the words of a venerable and honored statesman electrified the whole country, and met with a hearty response from every loyal citizen: If any man attempts to haul down the flag, shoot him on the spot. The President of the United States represents to every one of ns, and to the world, exactly the same interests that are represented by that glorious flag, and we know no reason why he should not be regarded with similar respect. A nation which has any regard for its own honor can no better afford to have the man whom its citizens have chosen to represent its authority and dignity, treated with indignity, than it can afford to have an insult offered to the flag which is but another symbol of its majesty. We cannot forbear adding another reference to what is at least a plain breach of good manners, exhibited in the para- graphs to which we have referred. In both the two acconnts which are given of this same visit which the President of the United States paid to the honse of a friend, his host is brought in for a share of the abuse. This gentleman is the editor of a well known newspaper, published in New York, which has a wide circnlation. As an editor, he is publicly responsible for all that appears in his paper. But it is surely an impertinence to criticise his private motives, or his private doings in his own honse. This gentleman has been in the habit for years of cele- brating the birthday of the nation in a manner which is deserv- ing of unqualified commendation. He has invited his neigh- bors to come together, and has bronght persons of character and edncation to address them on important public themes, and has made the day an occasion for an entertainment of a high literary and patriotic character. We wish that his example might be imitated, and that there might be countless gatherings of the same kind all over the land. He has shown how a great improvement may be made on the common way of celebrat- ing the Fourth. Those of us who have got beyond the years of childhood do not usually find that anniversary a specially profitable occasion. The present writer wonld not, however, 140 The Gentleman in Polities. [Aug., propose that the customary enjoyment of the rising generation on that day should be curtailed in the least. He remembers with exhilaration the joy with which the American boy gives vent to his first ideas of patriotism in the traditional way. Long may it be true that the American boy, in the language attributed to John Adams, shall celebrate the day with bon- fires and illuminations. But the method of spending the Fourth which the gentleman referred to has adopted is, to those who have outgrown Chinese fire-crackers, far more satis- factory. We do not intend to reproduce here the account given in the New Yoi~k Time8 of this years celebration at Roseland Park. It is enough to say that the writer of it charges the host of that occasion with a mean motive in getting up what is charac- terized as the greatest show on earth. Furthermore, it is actually said that the grounds were lighted with the identical Chinese lanterns that had been used on former occasions. We would ask, what if this is true? Is the writer of that para- graph in the habit of ordering that his whole dinner set shall be smashed, whenever he has had a dinner party, lest the dishes shall be used a second time? But whether he does or does not, or whether these particular Chinese lanterns were used for the first time or the second time, is not a matter of public interest, or one in which the public have any concern. There are also other pieces of information given that are of a character which shows that they must have been picked up by some one who had extended his ravages even into the kitchento use the language of IMlustapha Rub-a-Dub Keli Khan. Then we are told how much the rural Yankees were charged for red lemonade, and for red, white, and blue popped-corn balls. Now all this is very poor work indeed for a newspaper that holds a high and honorable position, and whose editors are gentlemen. It may be said that they did not know that such an account was to be published. But it was continued through two papers, and this same style of comment on the private doings of the President has been kept up for weeks. It may be said that in a great house, there must be vessels of honor and vessels of dishonor. But people dont usually put their vessels of dis- honor on their front steps. These paragraphs appeared on the 1889.1 The (Jentlen-ban in Politic8. 141 first page of the paper. Now, a gentleman is always a gentle- man. There is no such thing as being a gentleman at one hour, and in one place, and a buffoon in another. If a man is not a gentleman always and in all places, he is no gentleman at all. We are inclined to think that the explanation of the appear- ance lately of so many abusive paragraphs, in more than one of our ablest newspapers, is to be found in the fact that their editors have been allowing subordinates of no character to write what they think may excite a prejudice against the President among the class of people who are found in the lowest saloons. If this is the correct explanation, we are confident that they have made a mistake. The instincts of the American people are gentlemanly; and will continue to be so, unless they are perverted by a long course of just such buffoonery. Even those who belong to the class to which we have alluded, who very likely may laugh, will yet despise; and the journal which treats them habitually to such comments will lose its influence with them. This class of people are aAs quick as any other to recognize whether a person who addresses them is a gentleman; and at any important crisis they will be more likely to distrust what is said by one who has only amused them as a mountebank. The principle which Horace laid down, nearly two thousand years ago, was no more true in poetry then, than it is true in practical politics~ now, that the writer who overdoes, in either praise or blame, loses his hold over those whom he would persuade, and finds that they take the opposite side. At all events, if this style of writing is to be kept up, it behoves the editors of these papers to boast no more about the high character of American journalism. It is said that in the old days, when steam was first applied to navigation, as the time approached for the starting a boat on its accustomed trip, it was the occasion of shonting and swear- ing, and of a confusion which was little better than that of Bedlam itself. The tradition, however, is that, on Lake Cham- plain, there was a little craft, which was commanded by a man who was not only every inch a sailor, but a gentleman as well. As such, he knew that efficiency is in no wise dependent on noise or oaths. At the appointed time, he was in the habit of 142 The Gendeman in Politic8. [Aug., quietly taking his stand on the bridge of his boat, and there he gave his orders by a simple wave of his hand. Not a word or a sound was heard from officer or from man. The new method introduced by Captain Sherman was hailed all over the land, and his example was speedily everywhere followed; and to-day the great leviathans start punctually for their long journey across the Atlantic so quietly that the moment when they leave their moorings is hardly to be recognized. The journal to which we have specially alluded has in the past fought many honorable battles. No paper has done more to make it understood throughout the land that the subject of politics is one to which the highest ability and the greatest learning should be devoted. No paper has done more to make the nation feel the importance of having the scholar in poli- tics. We respectfully submit the question whether the New York Time8 may not do a still further service by showing that no man can be successful as a political writer who is not a gen- tlemanalways and everywhere? Can we not have the gentleman as well as the scholar in politics? WILLIAM L. KII~IGSLEY. 1889.1 Universit~?, TThptc8. 143 UNIVERSITY TOPICS. THEODORE DWIGHT WOOLSEY. ADDRESS OF PRESIDENT DWIGHT AT THE FUNERAL SERVICE. ASLEEP IN JESUSBLESSED SLEEP. THESE opening words of one of the most peaceful and beauti- ful hymns in our language give fitting expression to the thought which enters every mind, I am sure, as we meet to-day for the burial of our revered and honored friend. The long life, with its bright and joyful morning, and its grand and glorious noon-day, and its rich, fruitful afternoon, and its calm, sweet evening, and its brief dream of the night, has come to its end. The faithful and noble soul has, as we tenderly say, fallen asleep. The earthly house has closed its gateway for the resting-time, and its inmate, like the traveler wearied with his journey, sinks into a gentle slumberhis rest guarded safely by the Divine friend whom he loved, and his thoughts and true life moving on into the brighter light beyond. We call it a sleep, because the form which we saw, and by which the heart and mind were revealed to us, seems to be quietly sleeping. We call it a blessed sleep, beCause we know who watches over the mortal and immortal part, and keeps all that is committed to him even to the end. But it is a sleep only as we think of it from the earthly sideblessed because the soul which has been in communion with Jesus in the years past is still in communion with him, yet not as if in the visions of the night-season, bright though they may be with an unreal beauty, but with the clear sight of the day-light hoursa living, personal communion with the living friend in his own kingdom. A sleep it is thus, yet not a sleep. A new life rather for the waking soul, rising in its freedom and joy, as it were, out of the gentle slumber into which the kind Father has suffered the tired body to fall. Why should we not rejoice, and say, All is well. The loss to our life and our world, indeed, is a sad one, but the losses NOTEDr. Woolsey died at New Haven on Monday, July 1, 1889. The funeral services were held on Friday, July 5, at Battell Chapel.

1889.1 Universit~?, TThptc8. 143 UNIVERSITY TOPICS. THEODORE DWIGHT WOOLSEY. ADDRESS OF PRESIDENT DWIGHT AT THE FUNERAL SERVICE. ASLEEP IN JESUSBLESSED SLEEP. THESE opening words of one of the most peaceful and beauti- ful hymns in our language give fitting expression to the thought which enters every mind, I am sure, as we meet to-day for the burial of our revered and honored friend. The long life, with its bright and joyful morning, and its grand and glorious noon-day, and its rich, fruitful afternoon, and its calm, sweet evening, and its brief dream of the night, has come to its end. The faithful and noble soul has, as we tenderly say, fallen asleep. The earthly house has closed its gateway for the resting-time, and its inmate, like the traveler wearied with his journey, sinks into a gentle slumberhis rest guarded safely by the Divine friend whom he loved, and his thoughts and true life moving on into the brighter light beyond. We call it a sleep, because the form which we saw, and by which the heart and mind were revealed to us, seems to be quietly sleeping. We call it a blessed sleep, beCause we know who watches over the mortal and immortal part, and keeps all that is committed to him even to the end. But it is a sleep only as we think of it from the earthly sideblessed because the soul which has been in communion with Jesus in the years past is still in communion with him, yet not as if in the visions of the night-season, bright though they may be with an unreal beauty, but with the clear sight of the day-light hoursa living, personal communion with the living friend in his own kingdom. A sleep it is thus, yet not a sleep. A new life rather for the waking soul, rising in its freedom and joy, as it were, out of the gentle slumber into which the kind Father has suffered the tired body to fall. Why should we not rejoice, and say, All is well. The loss to our life and our world, indeed, is a sad one, but the losses NOTEDr. Woolsey died at New Haven on Monday, July 1, 1889. The funeral services were held on Friday, July 5, at Battell Chapel. 144 University Topics. [Aug., for this life, we may well bear in mind, are gains for the other, and the other world is the one for the abode of the perfected soul. The sleeping here is for the waking there, an~ the friend who has trusted the Lord Jesus in the long earthly ccurse knows the sleep at the end as a blessed onea sleep which is a quiet resting on the mortal side, and a restful activity and joy on the immortal side. We stand to-day at the point where the sleeping and the wak- ing seem to meetat the ending of the life which we have known, and the beginning of that which we do not know. We say our farewell word when we can move forward no longer on his way with the friend whom we have loved, and we leave him thankfully and hopefully with a guardian and helper and com- forter more wise and powerful than we are. We say to each other: He is safe under the Divine care; Rest and peace and joy await him; and we turn backward to our old, familiar life with a new inspiration. But the inspiration comes from the life which is ended. And what do we say of this life, which brings it to us? When a man of greatness and of goodness dies, there are always two thoughts that enter our mindsthe thought of what he did, and what he was. As we follow out the two thoughts in their relation to each other, and thus call to our remembrance the whole career, we bring before ourselves the man in his complete- ness, and assign him his true place of honor in the world. The right adjustment of all things, as they are seen in both of these spheres, gives us the true estimate of the life, and the verdict of history becomes, in this way, the verdict of wisdom and justice. But there is an order of thought here, as there is everywhere and the hour of tender feeling waits for the hour of calm reflec- tion before the work is made complete. We speak our sorrowful word of parting first, and our joyful word of benediction, as we see the honored friend of former years pass within the veil, and then we move homeward saying to ourselves and one another, What was he? Afterward, when the parting has gone by and we are in the world once more, we ask the other question, as to what he did; and we make up the sum of his life in this regard with thought, more than with feeling-with admiration, rather than with love alone. It must be so, and should be so, in the case of this venerated friend of ours, in whose honor we are assembled this afternoon. We commit his body to its last rest- 1889.] Unive~8ity fi/iOpiC8. 145 ing place, and his spirit to the blessed God who gave it, rejoicing in what he was. This alone we gratefully and lovingly speak of to-day. On some later day, when the brotherhood of the Univer- sity may be present here at a fitting season of commemoration, we may pass in review, with satisfaction and thankfalness, what he accomplished for this home of our education and for the world. The words which shall be spoken on that other day, as well as those which we utter to-dayif they worthily describe himself and his workwill show him to have been a man of goodness and greatness; one of the greatest and best, as I think we may truly say, of our country in our time. In the sphere of the intellect, Dr. Woolsey was so remarkable that he impressed every intelligent person who knew him. He had strength and vigor of mind, clear apprehension of truth, a penetrating insight which detected at once all falsity and unre- ality, and a scholars faculty of acquisition and attainment. He had, also, richness of imagination, much of the poetic sense, large mental grasp, openness to thought in many lines, originality and variety in his ideas and thinking, the ease of a perfectly working mechanism in his mental operations, wonderful power of memory, great facility for accurate learning and accurate statement of what he had learned. His mind was stored with knowledge. He was an independent, honest, earnest thinker, subjecting all knowledge and learning to the true tests. He was suggestive by reason of what he knew and what he thought. He gave forth from the rich stores withiii himself abundant gifts to help the thought and reflection of others. lie always had his thoughts at command, and I have often felt that he must be happier than most men about him because he had so much of interest to think of, and so many things of the present and the past alike to occupy and stir his mind. Though not possessing some of the brilliant gifts of genius which nature, in rare instances, bestows upon men, he was a man of sounder judgment and keener perception often- times than such men, because the common sense of an intelligent mind evenly balanced the other powers. For clearness of appre- hension, for the wisdom which adapts means to ends, for the ability to guide his thoughts to calm and right conclusions, for the working power of the mind within itself to develop what was fruitful and helpful and valuable and quickening, for the true sincerity and honesty which keep the intellectual faculties within and near the sphere of truth, he was distinguished above most of voL. XV. 10 146 University Topics. [Aug., the leading men of his time. He commanded respect in every company of men where he found himself by reason of his intelli- gence, his great mental force, his well-considered views, his wise judgment, and his forceful expression of original thought. As a preacher he exhibited much of this powerand as a teacher also, so far as the possibilities of the case allowed. Those who came into connection with him as students were impressed by his men- tal characteristics in all these respects, and the nearer they came to his real life the more they were impressed. The influence of his intellectual powers was one of the great forces affecting their own lives. In the power of the will, Dr. Woolsey had unusual strength. He was born to command. Though of weak, rather than strong physical development, his imperious will gave him an unquestioned authority over other men. As the head of the college he was able to control the body of students by the exer- cise of this power, even in times of excitement and disorder, and notwithstanding a certain natural timidity he became, by reason of it, fully equal to any emergency. He had the courage of the soldier in the hour of conflict, and the firmness of the wise states- man in times of peace. Among his associates and equals this will-force had a checking and controlling influence oftentimes, even when he was not himself conscious of exerting it. He was ready to ask their views always, and to give them due considera- tion. But if persuaded that his own view was the right one, he was sufficient for the hour, and was ready to move forward with- ~out the support, or against the opinions of others, if necessity ~compel1ed him so to do. This power in him was recognized by all who came in contact with him. And yet the energy of his will was exercised as fully in controlling himself, as it was in influencing and guiding others. He subdued himself in a master- ful way. He did so more than those who observed his life at a little distance thought that he needed to do. Like many men of the best and most religious households, whose education, like his, was in the earlier part of the century, he had a more exclusive sense of justice with reference to his own inner life, as compared with other things, than he well might have had, and so he was introspective and self-contemplative in a condemnatory way. lie saw what he felt to be evils and imperfections in himself, and heroically repressed and subdued them by his will-force. He changed timidity into courage by this means, when the call for it 1889.] University Topics. 147 came, as he himself testified. And he controlled himself as a Christian disciple many times when he thought he was assailed by enemies within, or evils without. We have happily gained something for the peace and joy of our souls by the growing appreciation, in these more recent years, that justice is not every- thing, or even the first and highest of all things, in human char- acter or the divine government. But the men, whose character had its roots and foundation in the earlier time, had a magnificent will-power which we are in danger of losing. This power had a grand manifestation of itself in our venerated frieAds life, and to it was due no small share of that strength of manhood which was so much admired by all. Dr. Woolsey was a man of tender feeling. There was in him a child-like tenderness and gentleness and trustfulness, which were charming to all who beheld them. I think that those whose acquaintance with him was somewhat intimate must have been surprised, sometimes, when they saw the strong, intellectual, forceful man putting himself under their care for the moment, as it were, and listening like a child to their wisdom or suggestions. He had a tenderness and graciousness, also, in his bearing towards younger men; and, while he could be stern, if the occasion re- quired it, or even could have a cold or severe manner when he was busily occupied, or was preoccupied, he was kindly consider- ate in his natural bearing. He was a loving man in his inmost heart, and, for myself, I think of him most pleasantly and affec- tionately, because of the gentle and friendly way in which he so many times talked with me when I called upon him in my earlier years, as well as in the more recent ones. He had a most kindly appreciation of young men, and believed in them. He prayed often, in his morning prayer at college, that they might be wiser and better than their fathers were. His faith went with his prayer. He did not look backward, but forward. He trusted the young men, and was ready to trust the future, under the divine guidance, to their care and keeping. He loved children, and his own children, and played with them. He taught his own children, and read with them, and inspired them with the love of knowledge. When sorrow came to his household, as it did again and again, in the death of his children, his grief was that of a loving father and of a tender-hearted man. I shall never forget his saying to me, just after he heard of the sudden dying of his two daughters in Jerusalem, that it was a sweet thought to him 148 University Topics. [Aug., that they died where Jesus died. He had a childlike trust in God, and loved the Lord Jesus as his elder brother and friend. He was generous, liberal in thought and feeling, magnanimous, honest, sine ere, full of faith and good works, a man of large mind and a large soul. He was of the highest integrity; of the most transparent simplicity; of a truly modest estimate of him- self; kindly in his judgment of others, while clearly understand- ing character; retiring in his disposition, but sufficient for every duty; with humility towards God, and courage in his relations to men. He knew his faults, and manfully resisted them. He grew stronger in his virtues, year by year, and bore witness of them to all observers by his daily life. He was one of those whose character and culture and refinement so manifest the Christian gentleman that their very presence in a city or walking through the streets is an elevating and purifying influence. In the relations of personal friendship he was confiding, faith- ful, and sincere. He cherished his friends with much warmth of feeling and held fast to them through the years. He depended on them, gladly took their counsel, opened his heart to those with whom his intimacy was greatest in his times of deepest need, sought their generous indulgence if he ever seemed for a moment to try their feeling, honored them for their works sake and for their worthiness of his love. His tender regard and friendship for Professor Thacher and for his own successor in office were a constant and most pleasant evidence of his power of affection. His readiness to take lessons for his own life from those much younger than himself, whose character he admired and trusted, was a touching proof of his loving spirit. As a scholar, Dr. Woolsey was earnest, impartial, learned, truthful. He had a genuine love of learning and a true scholarly mind. The wide range of his scholarship was very conspicuous. He was an authority in classical Greek, in History, and in Politi- cal Science. He was an energetic and large-minded student in theology; a preacher of uncommon ability, suggestiveness, and originality; a scholar in the department of New Testament in- terpretation ranking among the first in the country. He mod- estly sat at the feet of men whom he thought to know more than himself in special departments, while in reality he had quite as much knowledge as they had, or perchance even more. As a member of the company of New Testament Revisersthose who worked together for eight years in the revising of the English 1889.1 University Topics. 149 Versionhe seemed to me to be the most fully rounded scholar of them all, fitted to preside among them, as he did, both by reason of his eminent position and of what he was in this sphere of learning. From my earliest days of familiar acquaintance with him as a student, in the years immediately following my college graduation, he has always more fully realized my ideal of a true, large, liberal scholarenriched by scholarship, but greater in himself than in his learningthan any man whom I have ever known. As a teacher, he had the best powers, with the exception of that one which is the rarest of all gifts among teachersa pecu- liar blessing granted to some men, but denied to most, even where the other gifts are greatest,magnetic power. lie had the inspiring influence of his personal example as a student; the power which comes from accuracy and from the love of knowl- edge for its own sake; the impulse which the teacher gives by his own honesty in investigation, by the respect awakened for his attainments, by his manly demand for faithful work, by his abhorrence of all deceit and half-fulfilled duty, by his placing of character above all things else and showing the bearing of true learning upon character. He was himself an inspiration in the student community, because he was an honest, truthful 4scholar, as he was an honest, truthful man. But if we speak of him as a scholar and teacher, we are brought near the sphere of what he did, and the story of this must be deferred to another and, perchance, more fitting occa- sion. We are now thinking of what he was. Much more, in- deed, might be said in answer to this question, but enough has been already spoken, I trust, to recall the man as we knew him. It is pleasant to think that we know what his manhood was better than any one can tell us. His personality is stamped upon our minds and characters. Those who met him as his pupils have his influence in themselvesan ever-abiding possessionan ever-realized power. But the Christian life was to him the life of all life, and we may not pass this hour without a word as to what he was as a Christian disciple. He was a true Christian disciple. This we have none of us ever doubted, for the character was too pure and elevated and holy and Christ-like to make it possible for doubt to enter our minds. He might have doubted, when he depreciated himself and thought of the ideal standard, but we 150 University Topics. [Aug., could not. He might have been self-distrustful. The purest souls often are. But we could not be distrustful. The man of God was before us, moving forward toward the kingdom of heaven, filled with the light and hope of that kingdom, animated and inspired by the spirit of the sons of that kingdom. The character of the sons of the kingdom is set before us in those words of Peters second epistle, where he bids his readers add virtue, or manliness, to faith; and knowledge to manliness; and self-control to knowledge; and patience to self-control; and godliness to patience; and love of the Christian brethren to godliness; and wide-reaching love to love of the brethren. If we look at the life now ended,the truest, inmost life of the manwhere do we find its deep foundation, but in faith? The life itself was a continual testimony to faith, calm, peaceful, intelligent, victorious faith, as that on which the soul rests, and must rest if it would know God? And what do we see built upon faith, but manliness? Where, in any life that we have known, was there that manliness which is the sum of virtue that virtue which is the essence of manly livingmore truly than in the life of our revered friend. And in whom has knowledge ever come nearer to manliness, or self-control to knowledge, than in him? The knowing of Christiark duty and Christian living was to him the counterpart, and the direct antecedent, of that control of self which subdued the man to Christian duty everywhere and in all things. He knew, also, that patiencethe steadfast en- durance to which self-control leadsmust be added to self-con- trol in order that the good fight may be fought and the victory gained. Surely his patience in suffering, and his patient con- tinuance in the struggle of the soul, were manifest in his sorrows and in his efforts through all the years. And then upon these virtues, growing more as we may say from the human side, how plainly was built up that piety which comes from Godthe movement of the soul towards the Father, which has its source in the Fathers tenderness towards his child. And when all these were gained and were increasing through the years, how brotherly love, and wide-reaching love for all men, seemed to glorify the character more and more. It is eighteen years now since this venerated man laid down the burden of his official life, and withdrew to the retirement of his own home. We have all watched his course during these yearssome of us from a nearer point of observationsome of 1889.] University Topics. 151 us from a more distant one. But to all, I am sure, the incoming and outgoing of love has been more and more manifest as related to his inner life. It was my privilege to see him during eight years of this quiet, peaceful evening-time, as he turned his thoughts and studies towards the writings which tell of the Divine Masters life and love. The joy of the calm evening seemed to grow deeper as the time passed on. The light seemed to grow brighter. The Christian scholar and teacher and preacher seemed to rejoice with a gentle and sweet satisfaction in the interchange of love between himself and the worldin the kindly and reverential feeling which all men had towards himself, and in the answering kindliness which he felt for alL The evening- time moved forward, and the light faded peacefully and gradu- ally towards the time for sleep. And now the Fathers appointed hour has come. The man of many years, and many virtues, and many gifts, and many sorrow- ing, yet rejoicing friends, has fallen asleep. Our farewell word for him, and concerning him, as we lay his body in its resting-place and go to onr lifes work once more, is a beautiful wordis it not? Asleep in Jesusblessed sleep. What manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us that we should be called sons of God: and such he was. Beloved, it is not yet made manifest what we shall be. But we know that if He shall be manifested, we shall be like Him; for we shall see Him even as He is. PRAYER BY PROFESSOR FISilER. O Lord, our God, Fill us with a sense of thy power, thy com- passion, thy willingness to protect and comfort us ; so that, with thy Servant of old, we shall be moved to say: Whom have we in Heaven but Thee, and there is none upon earth that we desire beside Thee. It is Thou, 0 God, who hast made us, and not we ourselves. By Thee our days are determined: Thou hast appointed our bounds that we cannot pass. Yet are we per- mitted by thy mercy to cherish the hope which we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which entereth into that within the veil : whither the Forerunner is for us entered, even Jesus. We pray Thee to help all afflicted souls here, in this House of Prayer, to look to Him who hath overcome 152 Universdy fliopw8. [Aug., death and opened unto us the gate of everlasting life. Help them to trust in him who, when He left the earth, went to prepare mansions for His followers, that where He is, they might be, also. May we be assured, with the Apostle, that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the Heavens. Almighty God, our heavenly Father, seeing that it hath pleased Thee to bring to an end the mortal life of thine aged servant, and to release him from his infirmities and sufferings, we give thanks to Thee for all those qualities of mind and character which called forth our veneration and love, and for all the good which, during this long succession of years, Thou hast enabled him to do in the world. For the way in which Thou hast led him from the beginning; for the guiding hand of thy Providence, and the precious gifts of thy Grace; for the oppor- tunities afforded him to acquire knowledge; for his early con- secration to Thee and his life-long devotion to thy service; that he was called to teach in this Institution, and then to preside over it and to conduct its affairs ; for his earnest fidelity to every trust, his righteous abhorrence of evil-doing, his fearless performance of duty, his manifold labors in the cause of learning and religion, we render to Thee our humble and hearty thanks, most of all rejoicing that in simplicity and godly sincerity he had his conversation in the world, and more abundantly to us-ward. We bless Thee that this day of mourning is a day of gratitude and of praise. And now that he is gone from among us, may the Holy Spirit be present with all who are nearly affected by this act of thy Providence, to teach and to console, and to impress on the heart the lessons to be learned from it. Enter, we pray Thee, the household of which he was the head. Bless with all grace and consolation the wife and daughter who have ministered to him in the weakness of his declining years. We beseech Thee to comfort and strengthen them, and to grant unto them peace from above. Regard in mercy all his children, whether present or absent, and all others who were bound to him by ties of kindred or family connection. May they receive in abundant measure the blessing pronounced upon those that mourn, even the Lords promise of comfort. We remember in our prayers the sons of the College, far and near, who in times past have sat at his feet,whose thoughts will 1889.1 Un?4er8dy Topic8. 153 come back to this place and to him whose voice and example have been a guide and an inspiration in all their subsequent life. May the recollection of their revered Teacher ever con- tinue to inspirit them to conscientious and noble conduct, and to unselfish Christian exertions in behalf of their fellow-men. The Lord be near to the immediate successor of our departed friend in the office of President in this Institution, and help him to bear every burden of sorrow and affliction. We beseech Thee to sanctify this event to the spiritual good of all who hold offices of government and instruction in this University. May we keep in mind the supplication which was offered here so often and so fervently by him who has left us, that all instruc- tion may be leavened with the spirit of religion,the spirit of reverence and faith, and the sense of responsibility to God. Here, in all departments of this ancient seat of learning, among teachers and pupils, may the elevating effect of his teaching and his life forever abide. May we be admonished that we are sojourners on the earth, even as our fathers were. Help us, 0 God, to live as strangers and pilgrims, looking for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker Thou art. Almighty God, with whom do live the spirits of those who depart hence in the Lord, and with whom the souls of the faithful, after they are delivered from the burden of the flesh, are in joy and felicity, we give thee hearty thanks for the good examples of all those thy servants, who, having finished their course in faith, do now rest from their labors. And we beseech Thee, that we, with all those who are departed in the true faith of thy holy name, may have our perfect consummation and bliss, both in body and soul, in thy eternal and everlasting glory; through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen. 154 Curreni~ Liferature. [Aug., CURRENT LITERATURE. BROWNELLS FRENCH TRAITS.*~Jn the charming preface to The Marble Faun,as characteristic and perfect an example of the authors style and spirit as can anywhere be foundHaw- thorne says of himself: He has lived too long abroad not to be aware that a foreigner seldom acquires that knowledge of a coun- try at once flexible and profound, which may justify him in endeavoring to idealize its traits. Though this was said in con- nection with his disavowal of an attempt in that work at a portraiture of Italian manners and character, the remark is equally true of the difficulty of catching and truly presenting, by analysis and description, the traits of a foreign people. Coelum, non animum, mutant, qui trans mare currunt. In writing his- tory or in painting contemporaneous foreign manners and charac- ter, nothing is rarer than the capacity for pure objectivity. But objectivity alone will not secure the best result. A sympathetic spirita spirit which finds interest in all things human, not the spirit which comes of prepossessions of education or prejudices of habitis indispensable. The book before us is a fine example of what these qualities can produce when united with admirable literary skill. It is within our knowledge that Mr. Brownell has observed and studied what he here writes of, with prolonged and conscientious fidelity, and we think he has also brought to his task the faculty of seeing things as they are, and of judging them by the just measure of impartial sympathy. Insight, clear and penetrative vision, are the qualities which distinguish this piece of work. It is not comparatively important that one should agree with the conclusions or generalizations of such an observer. His facts his record and report of what he seescannot but be valuable. When to this is added, as here, the charm of a sound and ade- quate literary style, we have a result which adds a substantial * Ireach Traits. An Essay in Comparative Criticism, by W. C. BROWNELL. New York: Charles Scribners Sons. 1889.

154 Curreni~ Liferature. [Aug., CURRENT LITERATURE. BROWNELLS FRENCH TRAITS.*~Jn the charming preface to The Marble Faun,as characteristic and perfect an example of the authors style and spirit as can anywhere be foundHaw- thorne says of himself: He has lived too long abroad not to be aware that a foreigner seldom acquires that knowledge of a coun- try at once flexible and profound, which may justify him in endeavoring to idealize its traits. Though this was said in con- nection with his disavowal of an attempt in that work at a portraiture of Italian manners and character, the remark is equally true of the difficulty of catching and truly presenting, by analysis and description, the traits of a foreign people. Coelum, non animum, mutant, qui trans mare currunt. In writing his- tory or in painting contemporaneous foreign manners and charac- ter, nothing is rarer than the capacity for pure objectivity. But objectivity alone will not secure the best result. A sympathetic spirita spirit which finds interest in all things human, not the spirit which comes of prepossessions of education or prejudices of habitis indispensable. The book before us is a fine example of what these qualities can produce when united with admirable literary skill. It is within our knowledge that Mr. Brownell has observed and studied what he here writes of, with prolonged and conscientious fidelity, and we think he has also brought to his task the faculty of seeing things as they are, and of judging them by the just measure of impartial sympathy. Insight, clear and penetrative vision, are the qualities which distinguish this piece of work. It is not comparatively important that one should agree with the conclusions or generalizations of such an observer. His facts his record and report of what he seescannot but be valuable. When to this is added, as here, the charm of a sound and ade- quate literary style, we have a result which adds a substantial * Ireach Traits. An Essay in Comparative Criticism, by W. C. BROWNELL. New York: Charles Scribners Sons. 1889. 1889.] Current Literature. 166 contribution to our knowledge as well as enjoyment. We do not mean that Mr. Brownells facts or report may not be impeached or contradicted by other observers of equal intelligence and im- partiality. The things of which he treats are moral, not physical. Logical or physical demonstration is not possible in such matters. Different eyes see different sights and each may see truly. Illu- sions too are possible to the most honest observers. Coleridge had no doubt Dr. Johnson saw the Cock-Lane ghost, and no doubt that there was no ghost there to be seen. No one can doubt Mr. Brownell has seen what he reports or that he saw what was well worth reporting. The book has ten chapters, and each is well differentiated from the others. The chapters on The Social Instinct, Morality, Women, and Democracy, seem to us the most valuable and distinctive. The former chapter is the true pi~ce de resistance of the volume. Noting the contrast, unexampled elsewhere, be- tween the achievements, manners and life of France in the centuries before Louis XIV. and those of to-day, the contrast between her actual self and her monuments, Mr. Brownell finds that this contrast is explained by the constant presence and power of one characteristic French trait,what he well calls the social instinct. French history, he observes, is the history of this instinct. He finds a close spiritual identity between the successive periods of French history which bear so great apparent dissimilarities. Quoting Gambettas remark: There are no questions but social questions ; he concludes, The apothegm formulates the spiritual instinct of France since the days of her national beginnings. It formulates also, I think, the instinct of the future. That is why France is so inexhaustibly interesting, because in one way or another she, far more than any other nation, has represented the aspirations of civilization, because she has always sought development in common, and because in this respect the ideal she has always followed is the ideal of the future. Such observations are fundamental, and if correct, are an explanation which explains. The average American, who has been in the habit of regarding French character and manners through the media of ordinary reporters, will find much in Mr. Brownells chapters on Moral- ity and Women to give him pause and to teach him that swift or sweeping judgments on such questions are not wise. Morality, says our author, is indeed a fundamental matter, 156 Current Literature. [Aug., and French morality differs fundamentally from our own. But this is only the more reason for replacing censoriousness by candour in any consideration of it. And the first admission which candour compels us to make is the unfairness of estimating the French moral fibre by what ours would be ~f subjected to the same standards and influenced by the same circumstances. Upon these topics, as well as upon the questions of the com- parative morality of the French and especially of French women, Mr. Brownells views are, in our judgment, acute and just; and they are certainly deserving of consideration by all who would think well and justly of the French people. The longest, if not the most important, chapter, is entitled Democracy, and is a most keen and vigorous explanation and defence of present French political thought and ideasdefence perhaps against current misconceptions rather than of their soundness or value. The author points out ideality as the dis- tinguishing characteristic of French democracy. Democracy is a creed, that is to say, with the Frencha positive cult rather than a working principle, a standard, general test of particular measures. . . . Our democracy is a working hypothesis, estab- lishing the lines through which national and individual character may work out their salvation. French democracy is a positive and highly differentiated system, designed for direct and active agency in the securing of social well-being and political prog- ress. Mr. Brownells view of recent phases of French domestic politics, seems to be well expressed in M. Floquets remark, which he quotes: The internal quarrels which seem so pro- foundly to disturb and distract us are not, as Europe may assume, the result of an anemic fever, but on the contrary, a proof of superabundant vitality, and, so to say, a passing con- vulsion of political growth. Differing or agreeing, as one may, with Mr. Brownell on this topic, one cannot fail to find great light and value in his discussion. The remaining chapters are marked by the same qualities of close study and observation, acute analysis and clear statement. The book is not in any sense a plea for France or French thought or French manners; it is a sober effort to report these things trulyan effort which no one who would know this fascinating and noble country and people and judge them impartially can afford to overlook. D. H. CHAMBERLAIN. 1889.1 Current Literature. 157 THE ECONOMIC INTERPRETATION OF HIsTORy.*~Thj5 substan- tial volume of over five hundred pages is the first fruits of Prof. Rogerss occupation of the Chair of Political Economy at Oxford, where he succeeded the late Bonamy Price. The title chosen for these lectures is somewhat misleading, for it betokens a more analytical and systematic treatise than we have. The contents of the volume may be best described as economic illustrations of history, or historical events and conditions in the light of the economic phenomena of the time. The style is discursive and anecdotal and not rarely somewhat bumptious in tone. One or two examples of the latter characteristic may be given: I have always regretted that in this place the authorized instructor in ecclesiastical history rarely travels beyond the first four centuries of our era, and as far as I can learn rarely gives a satisfactory exposition of what occurred in that time. The political econo- mist of the later school has thoroughly carried out in his own person the economical law which he sees to be at the bottom of all industrial progress, that of obtaining the largest possible result at the least cost of labor. He has, therefore, rarely been at the pains of verifying his conclusions by the evidence of facts. The kind of light Prof. Rogers throws upon political movements may be shown by one or two examples. We are told that the Independents were the principal founders of the Bank of Eng- land ; that in European history, discontent with existing religious institutions, and the acceptance of heresy on speculative topics, have always been characteristic of manufacturing regions. Examples are given and later we are told that in Norfolk for a long time a weaver was the familiar synonym for a heretic. Prof. Rogers vivacity of style and his realistic treatment are well exhibited in the following: The practice of buccaneering (for a time the polite equivalent of piracy), especially among the Spanish possessions in the New World, was long a favorite field of energy. Paterson, the reputed founder of the Bank of Eng- land, is sometimes said to have been a missionary in the Antilles, sometimes described as a pirate, and it has been suggested he was probably both by turns. Long after Paterson, an English clergyman, who rose to be Archbishop of York, is said to have * The Economic interpretation of History. (Lectures delivered in Worcester College Hall, Oxford, 18S78.) By JAMES E. Tnoaotn ROGERS, professor of Political Economy in the University of Oxford, etc. New York: G. P. Putnams Sons.

1889.1 Current Literature. 157 THE ECONOMIC INTERPRETATION OF HIsTORy.*~Thj5 substan- tial volume of over five hundred pages is the first fruits of Prof. Rogerss occupation of the Chair of Political Economy at Oxford, where he succeeded the late Bonamy Price. The title chosen for these lectures is somewhat misleading, for it betokens a more analytical and systematic treatise than we have. The contents of the volume may be best described as economic illustrations of history, or historical events and conditions in the light of the economic phenomena of the time. The style is discursive and anecdotal and not rarely somewhat bumptious in tone. One or two examples of the latter characteristic may be given: I have always regretted that in this place the authorized instructor in ecclesiastical history rarely travels beyond the first four centuries of our era, and as far as I can learn rarely gives a satisfactory exposition of what occurred in that time. The political econo- mist of the later school has thoroughly carried out in his own person the economical law which he sees to be at the bottom of all industrial progress, that of obtaining the largest possible result at the least cost of labor. He has, therefore, rarely been at the pains of verifying his conclusions by the evidence of facts. The kind of light Prof. Rogers throws upon political movements may be shown by one or two examples. We are told that the Independents were the principal founders of the Bank of Eng- land ; that in European history, discontent with existing religious institutions, and the acceptance of heresy on speculative topics, have always been characteristic of manufacturing regions. Examples are given and later we are told that in Norfolk for a long time a weaver was the familiar synonym for a heretic. Prof. Rogers vivacity of style and his realistic treatment are well exhibited in the following: The practice of buccaneering (for a time the polite equivalent of piracy), especially among the Spanish possessions in the New World, was long a favorite field of energy. Paterson, the reputed founder of the Bank of Eng- land, is sometimes said to have been a missionary in the Antilles, sometimes described as a pirate, and it has been suggested he was probably both by turns. Long after Paterson, an English clergyman, who rose to be Archbishop of York, is said to have * The Economic interpretation of History. (Lectures delivered in Worcester College Hall, Oxford, 18S78.) By JAMES E. Tnoaotn ROGERS, professor of Political Economy in the University of Oxford, etc. New York: G. P. Putnams Sons. 155 Current Literature. [Aug., pursued the lucrative and invigorating calling of a buccaneer in his earlier days. So it was said of Archbishop Blackburn in his life time, and I never heard that this dignified prelate resented, much less the, refuted, the charge against him. In a few cases Prof. Rogers memory has played him false, as where he says the Bull of Borgia, under which all the world to the west of the Atlantic was bestowed upon Spain, all the east on Portugal. The real grants of the Bull could have been accurately stated in as few words. On page 294 the Morrill tariff is spoken of as carried through Congress as the price, it may be feared, of that gentlemans allegiance, and on page 384, the protectionist tariff of Mr. Morrill was in great part, as I have heard alleged by eminent American statesmen, as the price paid for the allegiance of the manufacturing East. I have been told this so unanimously and so uniformly that I cannot doubt it ! One may be sure that Prof. Rogers was never told any such thing by any eminent American statesman. The sentence is a confused recollection of some statement to the effect that a protection plank was adopted for the Republican platform in 1860 to secure Pennsyl- vania for the Republican party. The first sentence (p. 294) baf- fles explanation. There are more misprints than there should be: On page 10 we find Nurenberg and Burges (Bruges), on page 48 Straduarius for Stradivarius, page 40 Custo for Custos, on page 52 two ofs are omitted and on page xii, line fourth from bot.. tom a not. Prof. Rogers unrivalled knowledge of Mediawal English life has enabled him to strew his pages with a great variety of interesting and more or less recondite facts of impor- tance alike to the economist and the historical student. This volume with his Six Centuries of Work and Wages, present in a convenient and interesting form the cream of the results of his vast researches recorded in his Agriculture and Prices. EDWARD G. BOURNE. GREENS HEBREW GEAMMAR.*~For many years the Hebrew Grammar of Professor Green~ has justly been regarded as one of the most valuable helps for students entering upon the study of the original language of the Old Testament. It now appears in a new edition enlarged by nearly seventy pages,and with a much * A Grammar of the Hebrew Language. By WILLIAM HENRY GREEN, Pro- fessor in the Theological Seminary at Princeton, N. J. New edition. New York: John Wiley & Sons. 1889. 8vo, pp. 418.

155 Current Literature. [Aug., pursued the lucrative and invigorating calling of a buccaneer in his earlier days. So it was said of Archbishop Blackburn in his life time, and I never heard that this dignified prelate resented, much less the, refuted, the charge against him. In a few cases Prof. Rogers memory has played him false, as where he says the Bull of Borgia, under which all the world to the west of the Atlantic was bestowed upon Spain, all the east on Portugal. The real grants of the Bull could have been accurately stated in as few words. On page 294 the Morrill tariff is spoken of as carried through Congress as the price, it may be feared, of that gentlemans allegiance, and on page 384, the protectionist tariff of Mr. Morrill was in great part, as I have heard alleged by eminent American statesmen, as the price paid for the allegiance of the manufacturing East. I have been told this so unanimously and so uniformly that I cannot doubt it ! One may be sure that Prof. Rogers was never told any such thing by any eminent American statesman. The sentence is a confused recollection of some statement to the effect that a protection plank was adopted for the Republican platform in 1860 to secure Pennsyl- vania for the Republican party. The first sentence (p. 294) baf- fles explanation. There are more misprints than there should be: On page 10 we find Nurenberg and Burges (Bruges), on page 48 Straduarius for Stradivarius, page 40 Custo for Custos, on page 52 two ofs are omitted and on page xii, line fourth from bot.. tom a not. Prof. Rogers unrivalled knowledge of Mediawal English life has enabled him to strew his pages with a great variety of interesting and more or less recondite facts of impor- tance alike to the economist and the historical student. This volume with his Six Centuries of Work and Wages, present in a convenient and interesting form the cream of the results of his vast researches recorded in his Agriculture and Prices. EDWARD G. BOURNE. GREENS HEBREW GEAMMAR.*~For many years the Hebrew Grammar of Professor Green~ has justly been regarded as one of the most valuable helps for students entering upon the study of the original language of the Old Testament. It now appears in a new edition enlarged by nearly seventy pages,and with a much * A Grammar of the Hebrew Language. By WILLIAM HENRY GREEN, Pro- fessor in the Theological Seminary at Princeton, N. J. New edition. New York: John Wiley & Sons. 1889. 8vo, pp. 418. 1889.1 Current Literature. 159 fuller and more thorough treatment of the part relating to Syn- tax, which greatly increases its value. Not only to beginners, but to those who have gained some familiarity with Hebrew and wish to advance beyond a running acquaintance with the text of the Old Testament, such a scholarly presentation of the structure of the language, and its peculiar features, on established philological principles, will be found to be of unquestionable service. No one can fail to recognize the carefulness and clearness of statement which characterize the work throughout. To advanced scholars, the position of the author on the difficult question of the Hebrew tenses will be of special interest. After having been obliged, as a member of the Old Testament Revision Committee, to struggle with all the phenomena which present themselves in biblical Hebrew, he finds himself unable to accept the theory now generally held, that the essential ideas connected with the tenses are those of completion or non-completion as con- nected with an action, and still prefers the old terms, perfect and future. The reasons he presents are certainly worthy of consid- eration, and the prominence he gives to the subjective or ideal position taken in thought by the speaker as determining the text would certainly accord with many of the phenomena. Still the question remains on what fundamental principle were the tenses of the Hebrew verb constructed? Were they originally and essentially designations of time, and is this the key to their inter- pretation? On this point, on which the whole controversy hinges, it is only fair that the author should be allowed to state his own position. It is, he says, very improbable a priori that a language should have no method of denoting time except the indirect one which this new theory [of the completed, or non- completed, as explaining the use of the tenses] supposes, and no forms which in their original and native import are intended for its expression. The time of an action is and must always have been regarded as so important a part of what is to be stated about it, that the strong antecedent presumption is that some direct provision must have been made for its notation. This is certainly plausible and at first view unanswerable; but its whole force lies in the quiet assumption that what we are familiar with in Greek and Latin, and the Indo-European languages generally, in the construction of the tenses as indicating time, must somehow be taken as expressing the primitive idea. Can this be safely assumed? Without taking any dogmatic position in regard to 160 Current Literature. [Aug., the origin of language, there are some facts directly opposed to it. The first is that verbs represent in their primary sense activity, and as such simply picture an action and do nothing more. The question of time is an after-thought, to be inferred when neces- sary from the connection or from adverbs or other particles or qualifying clauses. It is on this principle that the sign language of deaf-mutes is constructed, which consists of simple pictures of actions and things, and when necessary only, indicates the past or the future, as something lying back or extending forward. In the next place, among spoken languages, the Chinese not only for the most part dispenses with all indications of time in the verb, but when obliged to indicate it, resorts to the very concep- tion of completion, or non-completion, which accords with the most generally accepted theory of the Hebrew verb. The testimony of Gabelentz (Chineisohe & rammatilc, 1880, p. 378) on this point is clear and distinct. The Chinese, he says, has no special forms for the tenses of the verb. The limitations of time are ordinarily understood simply from the circumstances and connec- tion, in narratives and descriptions of the past and the present and predictions of the future, there is no need, as a rule, of desig- nating the tense of the verb, because it is indicated by the par- ticular time mentioned, or the persons or things spoken of. But when a preterite or future in our sense is to be expressed, the Chinese employs modal forms; the past is represented as ended, broken off, etc., the future as designed, in progress, necessary, and the like. The alleged a priori presumption, therefore, of an original time-idea as represented by the Hebrew tenses must be regarded as doubtful, while the further considerations adduced by Professor Green in favor of his position are not conclusive and certainly admit of a decision difterent from his own. It is possible that better terms than perfect and imperfect might be found to express the fundamental ideas of completion and non-comple- tion, but the author candidly admits that these names properly defined and understood correspond in a striking manner with cer- tain marked uses of these tenses and their employment has much to recommend it. GEORGE E. DAY.

NEW ENGLANDER AND YALE REVIEW. No. CCXXXIV. SEPTEMBEII, 1889. ARTICLE 1.A STUDY IN HEREDITY: THE POMEROYS IN AMERICA. FOR our special purpose, the first item of American history is the landing of Eltweed Pomeroy at Dorchester, now a part of Boston. It is understood that he came from England, one of a party of Puritans, in the ship John and Mary, landing in March, 1630. He was by trade a blacksmith, as were his sons and grandsons, with few exceptions, and for several generations. Some reports have it that Eltweed was accom- panied by a brother Eldad. Later conclusions are that Eldad was son of Eltweed, and born perhaps in Dorchester. Eltweed remained for several years in Dorchester, taking a prominent part in organizing the first or provisional government, and was a man of some means, and of good standing. Tn 1037, he removed for permanent settlement to Windsor, Connecticut, going, it is supposed, by that terrible journey through the wilderness. VOL. XV. 11 162 A Study in heredity: Pomeroy8 in America. ESept., Here, we at once desire to know something of the previous history of this Pomeroy progenitor. But we must confess that there is nothing to be told. At an early period the family had been conspicuous in England. Ralph de Pomerai came over from Normandy with William the Conqueror, took an active part in the conquest, and was ennobled for his services. Some of his descendants were for generations among the titled nobility, and one such branch still survives in Ireland. If any record has ever been compiled of the other Pomeroy families in England, no knowledge of it has come to the writer. We do not know what part of England was Eltweeds home. IDoubtless well directed explorations would clear up the mys- tery, but those heretofore made have been unsuccessful. Ex- cept a few names, we have no details of the immediate ances- tors previous to the emigration. We not only do not know their residence, but we do not know their occupation (unless we may infer it from that of Eltweed), nor do we know anything of their social position, or public, or private relations. What were the forces, the processes, the struggles, the discipline that bridged the interval between the aristocratic British history, and the hardy Puritan mechanic, a leader on his landing at Dorchester, and transmitting an unusual vital force for several generationsthese are matters of transcendent interest. The Pomeroy character as brought to America was eminently that of the English Puritans with some noticeable peculiarities in degree and intensity. It has been sai~l of the family they were men of liberal and independent minds determined to pre- serve their civil and religious freedom. Even among their Puritan associates they were especially stable, earnest, and up- right men. The resulting individuality was unusual and hence is the more instinctive in the study of Heredity. It must have depended on definite moulding infinences carried on and trans- mitted through many generations. Enquiring as to these forces we offer some suggestions, as topics worthy of extended research. There are two Pomeroy peculiarities which have been long recognized. Adding a third, the attempt will now be made to present a connected view of them drawn from personal obser- vation and the study of the family history. Our deductions 1889.] A Study in Heredity: Pomeroys in America. 163 are submitted under three catch-words: first, ability; second, force; third, sympathy. Were we examining a steamer we might notice: (1) its dimensions, (2) its engines, (3) its equip- ment. Or if it were a projectile, we distinguish its weight, its velocity, and its direction; and thus a three-fold division is used to elucidate our conception of the Pomeroy character. We propose to show what are its elements, and hope to obtain glimpses of how these have been sometimes modified by mar- riage with other families. The most obvions or at least the most generally recognized Pomeroy trait is executive abilitythe power of doing things. This in the most definite form would seem to be physical or mechanical ability. It may include the performance of any- thing requiring strength, skill, or dexterity. By further ex- tension the term becomes much more comprehensive and less definite. Primarily it is not a logical quality. It may not include the power to reason and explain the matter. It is not didactic. Neither is it imaginative. It pertains to the con- crete rather than the abstract. The typical Pomeroy does not make a good teacher. An influence received from some other quarter, as for instance, the blood of a Strong, a Sheldon, or a Dwight has proved itself however most effective in that direc- tion. One reason that they do not make teachers is that they see through a process too quickly. They lose sight of the inter- mediate steps, and cannot explain them to another. Many a Pomeroy woman finds it easier to do something in her kitchen than to explain the process to her servant. She may show how a thing is done, but she cannot state the process in words. The peculiar faculty of the Pomeroys is not the result of training and hardly of perceptible voluntary effort in the individual. Their powers are due to an inherited capacity from ancestry more or less remote, developed for generations under some unconscious cerebration. This is as inexplicable as the mathematical or the memorizing powers which some- times astonish the world, coming without study and exerted without apparent effort. Doubtless there is included a power of concentration which others cannot realize. Benjamin Pomeroy of the sixth generation was a lawyer of many years practice. He had the confidence of the community in hi~ 164 A Study in ileredity: Pomeroys in America. [Sept., judgment and held important offices of trust and responsibility. But he was conscious of powers for which his law practice gave him no scope. He had a taste for mechanical execution, and as a pastime between his professional duties undertook the constrnction of difficult public worksthe more difficult the better he liked them. The chief of the United States Topo- graphical Engineers was a friend of Mr. Pomeroy and re- peatedly consulted him in emergencies wherein his extraordinary capacity was made useful to the government. By him were constructed on the Atlantic coast beacons and various struc- tures, in circumstances that had baffled previous attempts. The history of the Pomeroy family fnrnishes many examples of special capacity beyond the ordinary results of education. How far back might be found the origin of this inherited ability is beyond conjecture. Certain it is that Eltweed Pomeroy and his immediate descendants had these characteristics. They were nominally blacksmiths, but in an age before machinery had taken the place of handicraft, this meant more than now. In the settlement of new towns in Massachusetts and Connec- ticut the Pomeroys were welcomed artisans. Large grants of land were awarded to them to induce them to settle and carry on their business. They were the gunsmiths in their several locations. In the French and Indian wars the Pomeroy guns were in great demand. In that of the Revolution they were indispensable. Long before the United States had a national armory, the private armories of the Pomeroys were famous. We are told that the anvil of Eltweed Pomeroy was drawn on a hand-sled from Windsor to Northampton. That anvil is still preserved as a treasured relic by some of his Pitts- field descendants in the family of Lemuel Pomeroy. It is noticeable that if the Pomeroys realized the importance of their work they seem to have lacked the power, or the time, to embody their conceptions in words. Working as the first gunsmiths in the country at a period when the wild beast and the savage made the gun a necessity, they left no records of their thoughts and feelings. There was no historian among them even by marriage until George Bancroft married Sarah Hopkins Dwight, grand-daughter of Mary Pomeroy of the fifth generation. Under hard work for successive generations 1889.] A Study in Heredity: Polneroy8 in America. 165 there had been secured and transmitted a physical basisa capacity for execution. It was necessary to graft this with other stock to obtain the variety of gifts needed in our day in the public service. And thus in various channels the Pomeroy executive ability may furnish the power that was originally developed in their workshops. The fact that the descendant8 of Eltweed have so conspicuously maintained this power be- yond the average of their Puritan contemporaries can only be accounted for on the supposition that the ance8tor8 of Eltweed for many generations had been passing through some training whereby the power of action had been developing and the speculative powers had been comparatively dormant. A second trait which characterizes the Pomeroys is desig- nated as force of character. In seeking to comprehend more delinitely what this means as applied to the family, we think it will be found to be a naturally strong will power, and this in turn depending, presumbly, on unusual firmness (or other quality) of some part of the brain too recondite for our study. This special force or trait of character includes unusual persist- ence, in whatever is to be done. It may at times approach stubbornness. A friend of the pioneer manufacturer of Pitts- field said of him: There would at times be no living with Mr. Lemuel Pomeroy if he were not always right. The Pomeroy may spend years to gain a point in which principle is involved. One of them speaking of his kinsman said: He will spend five dollars to circumvent a man who would cheat him out of five cents. The Pomeroy will have his own way if possible. If lie is flexible, it must be that he draws his blood largely from a different source. This strong will power is very inspiring and sustaining under difficulties. Of all men the Pomeroy has the courage of his convictions. For the most part they have been leading men in the towns where they have resided, independent in opinion, frequently on the side least popular in politics and in other matters under discussion. They have not been dreamuers, or poets, or orators, or reporters, though under other names their blood may presumably have given motive power in such cases. The two traits of character thus considered may depend on a single cause or principlethe 8eein~i, things defnitelyin the 166 A Study in Heredity; Pomeroys in America. [Sept., concrete. They are notably masculine traits, being more com- mon and conspicuous in men though by no means lacking in Pomeroy women. To what extent they are due to occupation and how far the original selection of occupation followed an already natural aptitude are matters quite beyond us. In this kinship there have been many instances of men show- ing these traits of character in whatever circumstances their lives were cast. Some of them, poor boys, at an early age sup- porting themselves and entering upon lines of work wherein they reached eminence and wealth, manifesting such sterling qualities as to attain high positions of honor and trust. Exam- ples can be merely enumerated: Noah Pomeroy, of iMleriden, Conn.; Elisha Minor Pomeroy, of Wallingford; Charles S. Pomeroy, of Washington, D. C., formerly member of Congress from Iowa; Samuel C. Pomeroy, formerly United States Sen- ator from Kansas; Theodore Medad Pomeroy, formerly mem- ber of Congress from New York State; Major George Pomeroy, of Utica, New York. This list mi6ht be indefinitely extended.* We qnote at more length a notice of Col. Seth Pomeroy, of Northampton, Mass. He illustrated in an eminent degree the family traits. The circumstances of his life were favorable for their display, and he had connections able to appreciate his qualities and to place accounts of them on record. Seth Pomeroy, born in Northampton, Mass., 20 May, 1706, died in Peekskill, N. Y., Feb., 1777. He was an ingenious and skillful mechanic and followed the trade of gunsmith. Early in life he entered the mili- tary service of the Colony and in 1744 he held the rank of Captain. At the capture of Louisburg in 1745 he was a Major and had charge of more than twenty smiths who were engaged in drilling captured can- non. In 1755 he was Lieutenant Colonel of Ephraim Williamss regi- ment. On the latters death he succeeded to the command of the force that defeated the French and Indians under Baron Dieskan, and his regiment was the one that suffered most in gaining the victory of Lake George. Col. Pomeroy was an ardent patriot, and in 1774-5 served as delegate to the Provincial Congress by which he was elected a general officer in October, 1774, and Brigadier General in 1775. At the begin- ning of the Revolutionary, war he presented himself as a volunteer in the camp of Gen. Artemas Ward, at Cambridge, Mass., from whom he * It is hoped that the study of the family history now in progress will include a large amount of such material with corresponding genealo- gical detail. 1889.] A Study in heredity: Pwneroys in America. 167 borrowed a horse on hearing the artillery at Bunker Hill, and taking a musket set off at full speed for Charlestown. Reaching the Neck and finding it enfiladed by a heavy fire from the Glasgow ship of war, he began to be alarmed, not for his own safety, but for that of General Wards horse. Too honest to expose the borrowed steed to the pelting of the pitiless storm, and too bold to shrink, he delivered the horse to a sentry, shouldered his gun and marched on foot across the Neck. On reaching the hill he took a station at the rail fence in the hottest of the battle. He was soon recognized by the men, and his name rang with shouts along the line. A few days later he received the appointment of senior Brigadier General among the eight that were named by Congress, but as this action caused some difficulty in the adjustment of rank, he declined it and soon after retired to his farm. During 1776 when New Jersey was overrun by the British, he headed a force of militia from his neighborhood and marched to the rescue of Washington. He reached the Hudson river but never returned.Appletons (iyclo- pedia of American Biography. The third characteristic Pomeroy trait is the cajpacity of 8ympathy. This is not merely pity or commiseration at the distresses of others. It is not mere kindness of heart, a senti- mental or abstract emotion. It is not something acqnired by individual religious experience, thongh it may be quickened and directed thereby. It is a natural inheritance inwrought in the very being, various in its manifestations and composite in its strncture. It is part of the habit of concrete thinkingthe giving the mind to the reality qf thing8. It includes the feel- ing as others feelan appreciation of the moods of othersan intelligent apprehension of their thoughts. The apostle must have had such a type to draw from when writing the repeated injunction, be of the same mind one with another. This power of sympathy has many opposites according to circnmstances. It is never selfish, nor suspicious, nor intro- spective, nor self-assertivehardly self-conscious. Without exaggeration and without gush it gives utterance to a full heart in the simplicity of truth. To the recipient of its favors it is restful beyond the power of expression. Other women may be or may not be more beautiful or more accomplished or more brilliant, but if they lack this native genius, this instinctive and intuitive capacity, they are not of Ponieroy blood. When a Pomeroy woman dies there are always those to feel they have lost their best friend. 168 A Study in Heredity: Pomeroy8 in America. [Sept., This power of sympathy includes still more. It relates not merely to humanity; it allies one to INature, and what is that but Gods manifestation of his sympathy with the human heart ?universal nature, all that is lovable and suggestive. The Pomeroy loves the dumb animal, and his love is recipro- cated. Inanimate naturethe fields, the hills, the monntain brook, the seathe enumeration ,flnds no limit. We must re- strict it to grasp the ideathe garden is an indispensable part of the home of the Pomeroy. Rightly is it that his name Pomme de Ji?oiis identified with one of Gods frnitsthe fruit of the gardenone form of which holds the first place in the worlds history. When considering the planting of the Pomeroy stock in New England, I spoke of the resulting individuality as unusual. Surely the harmonious blending, the intense masculine traits with the most comprehensive feminine, warrants the statement. How it originated is one of the profound, all-comprehensive questions, of which we can obtain only glimpses. A few sug- gestions of topics for study are all that can be offered. The study of family traits is intimately connected with the hereditary transmission of character and aptitudes, including the complicated problems introduced by marriage. Much has been learned on the subject of Heredity. The effect of occu- pations and other circumstances in moulding character is begin- ning to be recognized. Operating causes must extend over several generations in order to transmit a trait in a marked degree, and to all the descendants. The results of inheritance are due not to parents alone, but to remoter ancestors, and indefinitely. If a trait, quality, or aptitude were transmitted from a succession of ancestors, and not interfered with by the introduction of conflicting elements it would be fixed in the race. Such, however, is seldom the case, and the tendency is rather towards constant and endless variety. In the elective affinity that determines the union of the sexes, the principle that the unlike attracts, often dominates. An instance where a characteristic is very manifest, persistent and widely diffused, is the more valuable for purposes of study, as there can be no doubt that the causes or forces were long operative, and that important changes were not introduced by marriage. 1889.] A Study in Heredity: I~omeroy8 in America. 169 So far as appears, the Pomeroy characteristics and vital forces, in their elementary forms, were fully developed when first we meet the family. The sons of Eltweed possessed and transmitted the traits, and in wwdifted forms, they can be traced in the lines of the daughters also. On the whole the transmission has been remarkably complete and comprehensive, the exceptions being inconsiderable. An apparent exception occurred when by a second marriage the blood of the Pome- roys was allied to that of the Strongs, Medad Poineroy marry- ing a daughter of Elder John Strong. A son was born and here a change appears. Samuel Pomeroy of the third genera- tion differed from his brothers and his cousins. He was grad- nated in 1~O5 at Yale College, and became a clergymanthe first Pomeroy of whom we have knowledge as receiving a liberal education. In the ministry he was useful and honored. Preaching, not working, was his province. While his brothers by a previous marriage transmitted the family traits even now traceable in their descendants, all that we know of Samuel is, that he was a systematic, learned, and eminently pious man, changing his church relations from the Congregational and becoming a Presbyterian, exerting a good infinence over a prosperous flock. Such was his sphere. But nature has her revenges. Instead of the usual large family of sons, his chil- dren, leaving families, were daughters and with the disappear- ance of the name all perceptible trace of Pomeroy disappeared. The Pomeroys have been a religious peoplequiet followers of the Apostle James. In all the branches of the family and in all the generations many of them have been deacons, grave and exemplary men, capable and kind hearted. The sensa- tional and strongly demonstrative forms of religious doctrine and experience have been less common than with some other Puritan families. In the ministry, they have been zealous, good men, faithful and earnest, but never as Pomeroys, doing much to enlarge the range of human thought or to modify public opinion on a large scale. In instances where Pomeroy blood is intermingled with that of other families there are those who have become eminent, each side doubtless imparting and receiving a share in the result. 170 A Study in Heredity: Pomeroy8 in Am~eriea. [Sept., Rev. Benjamin Pomeroy (4th generation) of ilebron, Conn., was a conspicuous example of the family characteristics. Zeal- ous and scholarly he was carrying on his ministerial work in a quiet manner when he came under the influence of the Evangelist Whitfield. Dr. Pomeroy became much interested and adopted the new revival doctrines and methods with great earnestness. His more conservative ministerial brethren did not keep pace with him and the resulting antagonism gave scope to the cour- age and masterful will power of the Pomeroy race. Though deposed from his pulpit for some years, he continued to preach without salary wherever he found hearers. In the French war he joined the army as chaplain and subsequently resumed his ministerial work at Hebron, acceptably and usefully, again to take a chaplaincy in the war of the IRevolntion. The effect of intermarriage on the race characteristics is not always obvious. Strongly marked traits are more likely to appear in the sons and to be transmitted by them. A daughter may transmit her fathers traits. As a rule the stronger nature dominates in the offspring, though there will be some inter- mingling and modification of the two. A weakening effect becomes apparent where the diluting process is repeated and after a while the Pomeroy type is plainly modified. Even in these circumstances it is curious that at times the old force will assert itself even in late generations, and the original type appear. An instance is now in mind where a boy six years old, great-grandson of a Pomeroy, manifests the iron will and constructive activity to the wonder and sometimes dismay of the other members of the family. His mother, a modified type of the Pomeroy woman, such as we delight In, sometimes looks aghast at the exhibition of will and force in the boy before her. Tn considering the modifying effects of intermarriage, much depends upon what the new forces are. Traits that are shared by both parents are likely to be re~inforced in the offspring. Some are at once absorbed and assimilated, with little percep- tible effect. Not so of others. About the year 1755, Stephen Pomeroy of the fifth generation married Eleanor Lyman. The Lymans were a family of great natural ability, displayed in demonstrative ways. Stephen Pomeroy died early leaving four 1889.] A Study in Heredity: Pomeroy8 in America. 171 little children, of only one of wliom have we any knowledge. Enos Pomeroy, this son, became an npright patriotic man, holding snch offices as were in the gift of his town, Bnckland, Mass., and for many snccessive years he was its representative in the State Legislature. He had a large family of children, mostly danghters. One son whose name also was Enos became a lawyer and lived in Rochester, New York. He was a man of signal ability and strict integrity, He married Sarah Strong Norton, who united in her veins the blood of the Nortons, the Strongs, the Claps, and the Pitkins. It wonld be interesting to give in detail the characteristics of their children. Among them was John Norton Pomeroy, one of the most eminent lawyers and writers on law this conntry has prodnced. An- other son Henry Pomeroy, reached similar eminence as pro- fessor of mathematics and civil engineering and snbsequentiy as an officer in the Union army. A third son was killed in battle. Their only danghter became a teacher. In this family the Pomeroy traits were strongly modified. The executive ability and will-power of the race assumed new forms and became important elements in character building. How far the race characteristics may be traced throngh a series of female lines is a difficult question. Doubtless under progressively changing forms they will continue to exist longer than our ability to trace them. The strands of the twisted cord are continually subdivided and incorporated with others. A conspicuous instance of the modification which the Porneroy traits undergo in successive families is that of President Theodore Dwight Woolsey, who was of Pomeroy extraction his descent being as follows: IMlehitable Pomeroy, a grand- daughter of Eltweed married John King, son of the settler of the same name. The Kings were by occupation, tanners, and this marriage appears to have been a harmonious blending of congruous elements. Their daughter Experience King married Colonel Timothy Dwight, a man in high esteem for his talents and worth, and with qualities very unlike the staid and quiet Pomeroys. There was fire in his very blood. He had a heart so full of flash and flame in action that his manners were sometimes quite overborne by his feelings. His son Major Timothy Dwight married Mary Edwards, daughter of Rev. 172 A Study in Heredity: Po7neroy8 in America. [Sept., Jonathan Edwards the most eminent divine and metaphysician in Kew England, thns bringing another new departure for Pomeroy blood.* Their daughter Elizabeth married William W. Woolsey, Esq., one of the wisest, most upright, and most successful merchants of his day. One of their sons, President Woolsey, was so extraordinary an instance of intellectual devel- opment as might seem to defy classification with the Pomeroys. In his case, the executive ability was conspicuous, as it was in the old gunsmiths, but found its sphere in the abstruse problems of science, the unfolding the hidden stores of clas- sical learning, the profound questions of metaphysics and those of international law. The mastering will was there also, and in his eighty-eighth year as strong as ever. With these eminent intellectual gifts, all acquainted with him will recognize his sympathetic naturegenerous, many-sided, and all-embracing. As to the origin of race characteristics, much may be said according to the point of view taken. They are the gift of God evolved in his providence. They have dependence on any thing that happens to the individual. An impression made on the nervous system leaves its mark as surely as the photo- graphic negative is impressed by light and shade, and as mys- teriously as the hypnotic force controls the will and bewilders the reason of its subject. In the tablets of the brain (or what- ever may answer as such) beyond the scrutiny of the anatomist, the record is preserved ready to be reproduced when memory shall be awakened with sufficient intensity. But the brain cell has relations even more surprising. It is itself a part of the aggregate of parentage. The inheritance of the child depends, in a measure, on the physique of the parent. An impression, or an action, if repeated may become a habit. The habit if continued and intensified may appear in the progeny. The process continuing evolves a race characteristic. How much depends on the human will, and to what extent choice and cir- cumstances may complicate and modify the result, are problems too obscure for us to enter upon. * It would require a volume to depict the many and striking results of these unions, especially in the families of the Lymans and the Dwights. See the History of the Descendants of John Dwight of Dedham, Mass., by Benjamin W. Dwight. 1889.] A Study in Heredity: Pomeroy8 in Amerwa. 173 A characteristic may be cherished, expanded, intensified, and handed on to the next generation, or it may be wasted, the brain cell becoming atrophied by neglect or abuse. Every human being has potentially such germinal aptitudes. All will not be actively developed in one person. But a trait or the physical basis of it may not appear in the individual, and yet be fonnd in the offspring. If the causes which favor it were repeated with constancy, we may presnme that its transmission would be as uniform and constant as the operation of other natural laws. In certain natural aptitudes the Pomeroys excel, and did so as far back as we are able to study them. Bnt none can be masters in all directions. Roughly speaking, the sphere of the Pomeroy may be said to be things rather than thoughts. The power of abstraction and the gifts thence depending are not eminent in this family. Scientific acnmen, lofty imagination, and philosophical speculation do not appear. When these gifts show themselves we may be snre there have been turned into the vital stream some new elements. The individuals of the Pomeroy family used in this paper to elucidate its positions have been selected becanse known to the writer either in person or by reputation. His lists contain many other names that it is believed would equally illustrate the positions taken. May not these historical stndies be nsed, also, retrospec- tively? and something be learned throngh them concerning the family in times which to ns are prehistoric? It seems safe to assume that where the hereditary tendencies are so positive and persistent, they must be a reprodnction of those existing prior to the time of Eltweed and for generations. We conclude that they lived in a homogeneous community, or at least intermar- ried only with accordant elements: they belonged to the mid dle class rather than the gentry; they did not live in ease, luxury, and idleness, but in active employments wherein the capacity for work was constantly stimulated. In whatever sphere they were engaged, they were the best workmen to be found; their productions were the best to be had; in matters to which they gave their attention their opinions were author- itative; their will was undisputed law. Ambition did not 174 A Study in heredity: Pomeroys in America. [Sept., draw them to other pursuits; pleasure did not tempt them astray. The claims of duty, obedience to law, the love of right, of liberty, and of humanity, these were paramount. The corruptions of power and place, the seductions of an advancing civilization took no hold of them. Large families with a full proportion of sons give ample proof of the hardihood of the race, which otherwise runs to daughters and in a few genera- tions is absorbed in other families. How far back may these retrospective deductions be permis- sible? I sometimes wonder in what ways the Pomeroy traits were manifested long ago, long before we have their history. But they were not historians and we do not have the record. Actions not words characterized them. Not the action that made military heroes, not brilliancy, nor strategy, but construc- tiveness. They were busy workers, though I doubt not Sir Ralph had courage and fighting capacity. Perhaps it was then, as later, that the forge, the anvil, and the hammer first bound them to the Royal heart. As his armorers they would find their exact sphere. Skill and executive capacity were as essential helps to Wiliiam of Normandy as were the power to wield the sword and hurl the lance. In times of peace the Pomeroys had their gardens with fruit and flowers, in an age and country where Horticulture was established by law. Hence it might be that in a lucky moment, according to an old tradition or suggestion, a new fruit presented to the King, un Pomme de ]?oi did more to perpetuate their name than the mechanical force and executive ability to whose energizing power we are so much indebted. If the limitations could be removed that include these re- searches, this line of enquiry might be traced backward in- definitely. It is also possible that if family traits were studied in their elementary forms and the modifications were followed in later generations, more progress might be made in the study of lEleredity. WM. W. RODMAN. 1889.] A so-called Pessimist of the Old Drama. 175 ARTICLE 11.A SO-CALLED PESSIMIST OF THE OLD DRAMA: JOHN WEBSTER. WHEN people of fair literary culture meet the name of John Webster two or three impressions are likely to sweep rapidly across their minds. Whether these readers belong to that un- happy majority who form their estimate of classical authors from the opinions of critics, or to that smaller class who regard first- hand impressions of books as the only literary culture worth having, they will probably associate the mention of Webster with a notion of powerful occasional expression, of a few strong characterizations, and of gloom almost incomparable. For these qualities are so prominent that even a rapid reader can hardly miss them, while they have appealed effectively to the numer- ous gaugers of dramatic fame by their capacity for positive representation. Certainly every lover of poetry must be attracted by that diction imaginative, intense, compressed almost to an extreme, with its power of sending tinglings through our nerves, and making us lay aside our book to follow the long suggestions of single lines. Such dying cries as ]3rachiannos invocation to soft natural death~~ Flaminco s We cease to grieve, cease to be Fortunes slaves, Nay, cease to die, by dying ; or his sisters My soul, like to a ship in a black storm, Is driven I know not whither; Ferdinands supreme line over his innocent victims body Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle; she died young ; the lovers disillusioned glimpse of his enchantress Thou hast led me like a heathen sacrifice, With music and with fatal yokes of flowers, To my eternal ruin; such passages have compelled a general recognition and rever- ence for Websters style. Equally impressive is his skill in

1889.] A so-called Pessimist of the Old Drama. 175 ARTICLE 11.A SO-CALLED PESSIMIST OF THE OLD DRAMA: JOHN WEBSTER. WHEN people of fair literary culture meet the name of John Webster two or three impressions are likely to sweep rapidly across their minds. Whether these readers belong to that un- happy majority who form their estimate of classical authors from the opinions of critics, or to that smaller class who regard first- hand impressions of books as the only literary culture worth having, they will probably associate the mention of Webster with a notion of powerful occasional expression, of a few strong characterizations, and of gloom almost incomparable. For these qualities are so prominent that even a rapid reader can hardly miss them, while they have appealed effectively to the numer- ous gaugers of dramatic fame by their capacity for positive representation. Certainly every lover of poetry must be attracted by that diction imaginative, intense, compressed almost to an extreme, with its power of sending tinglings through our nerves, and making us lay aside our book to follow the long suggestions of single lines. Such dying cries as ]3rachiannos invocation to soft natural death~~ Flaminco s We cease to grieve, cease to be Fortunes slaves, Nay, cease to die, by dying ; or his sisters My soul, like to a ship in a black storm, Is driven I know not whither; Ferdinands supreme line over his innocent victims body Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle; she died young ; the lovers disillusioned glimpse of his enchantress Thou hast led me like a heathen sacrifice, With music and with fatal yokes of flowers, To my eternal ruin; such passages have compelled a general recognition and rever- ence for Websters style. Equally impressive is his skill in 176 A 80-called Pessimi8t of the Old Drama: [Sept., producing characters that live. Flamineo, Bosola, Tsabella, Cornelia, the Duchess of Malfi, and the other figures sug- gested by these names, are designed with imaginative power and are most carefully elaborated. Their birth was royal, and, unlike many princely conceptions in our old drama, they were not abandoned to unworthy futures as soon as born. Most wonderful of them all, perhaps, is the heroine of The White Devil, whose brilliancy has thrown into darkness many of Web- sters gentler claims to admiration. Nor does it seem strange that to so great an extent she has concentrated attention upon herself when we recall Vittorias wildness of passionate daring and her defiant beauty. Physically and mentally magnificent, shrinking from no crime, her hand never bearing the faintest marks of guilt, she sins, and flashes a challenge at her censors, enjoys, resists, quivers for an instant in haughty fear, and then sweeps forward to meet deatha queen of passions tragedy. The atmosphere in which these characters live is equally wor- thy of the notice it has attracted. Websterian gloom is almost a byword: in the two plays always in mind when this author is named, the air is murky and miasmatic, our spirits are op- pressed as we pass through it. Thence has arisen the prevalent notion of Webster as absorbed from first to last in bitterness, or even in pessimism. One is imagining an easily conceived pic- ture when one fancies this poet walking alone in midnight groves, finding in the owls shriekings an apt suggestiveness of life; turning homeward to sit in the light of a single taper brooding over things of death, and dreading the return of day with its irony of sunshine. From these qualities a divided judgment has been formed of Webster as a man and as a dramatist. Intellectually and poet- ically, he has received generous admiration; indeed, sometimes the praise may have been pitched too high. But personally he is almost always spoken of harshly. These night pieces, with passion and villainy for main motives,where moments of tranquillity seem introduced only by contrast to bring out more dreadfully the fury of the scenes that precede and follow, have induced a more or less thorough identification of the author with such aspects of his work. Tame, for example, has noth- ing to say of Webster except that he is unequaled in creating 1889.] A so-called Pessimist of the Old Drama. iTT desperate characters, utter wretches, in blackening and blasphem- ing human life. While in the most appreciative study of his work that I have read, Vernon Lee can say nothing better than this: In the noble and tender nature of Webster, the sense is one of ineffable sadness, unmarred by cynicism, but nubright- ened by hope. Of real justice in this life or compensation in an- other there is no thought: Webster, though a Puritan in spirit, is no Christian in faith. What I have to say is in another tone. For there are quiet and eloquent touches here and there in his plays that justify the belief that Webster had no sympathy with the blasphemy of hunian life; that in a true sense of the word, he was a Christian, by virtue of morality sweetened by compassion for misery, energy in the effort to reform abuses, delight in what is gentle and lovely in man and nature, and hope (even though a faltering one) that sustained his sadness. It might be fair to claim that Vittoria and like Duchess are the only plays where Websters darker qualities appear; yet these are so conspicuously his masterpieces that it is best to limit to them an inquiry into his personal character. Nor can any but a special pleader deny that his judgment of life, as here expressed, is a dismal one. We are struck by the sad earnestness of many of his utterances about human relations and the value of existence. Nothing in Webster is more marked than the studied finish of many of these doleful senti- ments; plainly he chiseled and re-chiseled and laboriously pol- ished them. Such pains an author takes only with ideas that have grown very significant to him. Indeed, let us admit that when these plays were written Webster was alienated from genial, wholesome love with life, that existence seemed a task, that he felt the worlds injustice, and bitterly resented it. Is he therefore a misanthrope? Observe that these harsh sayings are put in the mouths of his worst characters. Granted that the intensity of their expression shows that their meaning has been felt, rather than imaginatively apprehended, is it nothing to the praise of their author that he sent them out into publicity with the deep red brand of cowardly or brutal natures set upon them? It is his villains who blaspheme: he has other characters who submit to lifes evil with patient constancy. Moreover, these sombre VOL. xv. 12 178 John Webster: [Sept., sentiments will affect our estimate of Webster personally, according as they seem indigenous to his disposition, or the result of unfortunate circumstances. The true Jaques rails not only against all the first born of Egypt, and the motley fools and the miserable world, but with equal venom against the humble people and the clever, and the idyllic world of the Arden lovers. Wherever we place him, he finds victims for his poisoned quips. Yery differently to be judged is the man who displays angry temper toward institutions or objects from which he has undeservedly suffered; we may not excuse his invective, but appreciation of its cause cannot fail to soften our disapproval. Thus, Websters own relation to society may be held responsible for not a little of this gloomy estimate of life. He shows most distinctly his sensitiveness to the gnlf both of birth, (his father was a tailor), and of profession between himself and those whom the world esteemed best. Though we have no grounds for asserting that he was a player, the theatre was his calling; and then, as so often before and since, it was not a socially ennobling one. Alleyn and proba- bly Burbage, by great talents and wealth secured familiarity with the nobility: Chapman and Jonson, through their scholar- ship, were no doubt cordially received wherever they really desired admission. But even Shakspere felt the sting of soci- etys contempt, and in those poems where he unlocked his heart cries out against Fortune, who provided no better for his life than public means, on account of which his dearest friend would sometimes ignore his acquaintance. To those obscurer and financially unsuccessful poets, who gained no brilliant triumphs, and, immortality within their brains, toiled throngh dreary jobs of collaborated play-writing, the path to bitterness was broad and easy of entrance. Nothing in Web- sters plays is reiterated more frequently and earnestly than expressions of ambition and of muffled rage at frustrated hopes. Flamineo and Bosola, his elaborately drawn arch-villains, with a repetition and poignancy that show only too distinctly how easy it was for their creator to assume the tone, carp against the distinctions of society, and the contemptible accident of social greatness. The difference between aristocracy and absence of rank, he tells us in the mouth of another character, 1889.] A 80-called Pe88imi8t of the Old Drama. 179 is no more than between two bricks, all made of one clay; only t may be one is placed on the top of a turret, the other in the bottom of a well, by mere chance. The philosophical soundness of such consolation could not always dispel a gloomy consciousness that this mere chance had placed the poet at the extreme from ease and honor. By nature so strongly pre- disposed to the serious and pathetic, there is no occasion for surprise that Webster brooded over such reflections until he grew morbid. We cannot claim for him one of those great souls whose serenity may be rippled, but never deeply agitated, by unmerited vexatious. Yet it is somethingis it not ?that this bitterness was so far below the dignity of his calmer judg- ment that he expressed it in the characters whom in all ways he made least admirable. But it may be felt that Websters plots are yet more dismal than his sullen sentences. Scarcely a prominent character sees the close of either drama; murder crowds on murder, until the stabbing of an inoffensive servant seems an act as trifling as brushing off a fly. Almost all the virtuous die wretchedly, yet their deaths often seem even bright in contrast with the agony of life. The villains die, too; yet ones first impression is that the author kills them only that their persecution may still attend the good in that dark future whither the careless reader may believe he consigns all sorts and conditions in des- perate confusion. A cold interest in the dramatic capabilities of vicious natures united in the ruin of virtue, the satisfaction found by pessim- ism in showing how remorseless a Juggernaut life is, are possi- ble explanations of the choice of such subjects as Websters. Another explanation is that alleged by our greatest recent dramatist as the motive of one of his saddest and most wonder- ful poems, to Tell a truth Obliquely, do the thing shall breed the thought. For there is a difference between didactic poetry and that ethi- cal element in poetry which is inevitably an admonition. Thus it is perfectly possible for a drama to represent vice tyrannizing and hope dismayed, without being in any sense a blasphemy of human life. It is this last aim that I believe 180 Joh~~ Web8ter: [Sept., influenced Webster in the selection of the stories on which he constructed his two great plays. They are closely akin. To a great extent, The lVldte Devil is based on the misery that results from ambition for rank and power; The Duche88 of Macfl, though it contains a secondary warning, is primarily a tragedy of wounded aristocratic pride. From this standpoint, Websterian providence loses its aspect of brutality, and becomes a solemn denunciation of the ambition and the pride that stamp out conscience in their devotees, and involve the loveliest innocence in grief that ends only with death. For if this or that cynical taunt born in his bitterness was disap- proved by Websters maturer thought, not so his conviction of the evil effects of societys artificial inequalities. His themes appealed to him through something vastly more absorbing than their mere dramatic possibilities; both are pleas for honesty undazzled by riches and social glories, and for a nobility not of blood but of character. In the earlier play the lesson is on the surface, and a moments search brings out the meaning of The Duches8. There every device is sedulously studied to exhibit aristocratic haughtiness in its extreme arrogance, and to render it inexcusable and hateful. Antonio is no vulgar steward, no Malvolio complacently fingering his chain and dreaming of such perquisites of marriage with his mistress as domineering the household and hectoring her kinsmen. He is the overseer not of a private establishment but of a court, has just returned from foreign travel, is accomplished in gentlemanly exercises. Moreover he is connected in intimate friendship with a man of birth and breeding: is it not the Cardinal himself who speaks of IDelio as a gentleman? Yet the varied proofs of his social respectability are scarcely thought of, beside the mans worth of character. Seldom have modest manliness and grave integrity been sketched more distinctly than in this unobtrusive, thoughtful Antonio, whose very presence carries weight, whom the Duchesss brother distrusts because he knows his honesty is incorruptible. INor does he accept the Duchesss proffer of her love eagerly, or from selfish motives. Before he dreamed of her affection his devotion to her was deep and pure; Her very sleeps Are more in Heaven than other ladies shrifts, 1889.] A so-called Pessimist of the Old Drama. 181 he tells Delio; She stains the time past, lights the time to come. Yet when the lady whom he has regarded with the desire of the moth for the star, offers herself to him in that scene which remains lovely still, even when compared with the woo- ing by some of Shaksperes girls, or with Arethusas sacrifice of maidenly reserve to love, how unselfish his hesitation, how instinctive his unwillingness to throw upon the Dnchess the part he should play. Yet, with what result? As the drama progresses, the license of a protracted thue-element more than realizes the beautiful promise of the bridal devotion. After years we see this love warm and tender in a moment of repose; we see it when strnck with hopeless disaster staunch to endure earthly separation in the hope of a heavenly compan- ionship. No touch is wanting to elevate this marriage into a union worthy of mans holiest reverence. But insolent family pride has no sentiment for love: the Duchess is racked by hideous miseries until she pleads for death, her base-born chil- dren are strangled above hqr body, and Antonio dies with the recognition that the error of his life was in accepting alliance with greatness. Hitherto we have been noticing the injustice of calling Webster a cynic, on the ground of his dark sentiments and plots. It is well also to turn to a few neglected indications that amid his sterner moods lived delicate symupathies; like those timid little blossoms that in crevasses of bare rocks commune with the sunshine. Some of these are found even in his most tragical passages. Side by side with the passion of Yittoria are the purity and self-annulment of the wife who is her rival, and the piety of Cornelia. Cornelia, too, among the transports of Flamineos fury in like White Devils later scenes is a venerable witness to the goodness of human nature. Through the voluptuous and blood-stained court she moves in austere sanctity; her one consolation is in IMlarcellus; when he is killed for his very righteousness, this forsaken woman resists the agony of her desolation, in a struggle to shield the murderer not only of his brother, but of his moth- ers heart. Devotion such as Cornelias in this scene, can 182 John Webster: [Sept., misanthrophy be its author ~ Or the gentleness that we see between Isabella and her child, the love already described between the Duchess and Antonio, the noble friendship between Antonio and iDelio; yes, even the devotion again and again displayed between the Duchess and her waiting-woman are these the methods of a blasphemy of life ? Or again, look at two or three incidental suggestions of Web- sters nature. No aspect of humanity more surely requires delicate sympathy for its portrayal than does childhood, whose chief qualities are its innocence and freshness of impression. To present a childs emotion and demeanor the dramatist needs not so much to remember as to forget. Sweeping aside the years, unlearning what life has taught, is a more puzzling task than the realization of vast conceptions of adult passion, mis- ery, and delight. Hence it comes about that the children of our old stage are usually unsatisfactory, either from precocious maturity, or from that most inartistic of all deportment, an artificial simplicity. Here, as everywhere, Shaksperes work is pre~minent. Arthur, Lucius, iMiamillius, the little son of Mac- duff,no false note jars on the naturalness and beauty of their words and bearing. But in observing even Marlowes study of the young Edward, or Fletchers Hengo, even in Websters Giovanni, too, we feel hesitation about complete approval. Yet I think no other Elizabethan dramatist has come closer to Shaksperes child studies than has Webster in Giovannis eagerness for heroism, and in his perplexed sorrow at the old mystery, to him new, whose touch has laid Isabella asleep. When do the dead wake 3 the boy asks. (One hesitates which lines to choose for illustration.) As he hears his uncles solemn answer, When God shall please, the recollection of the months of shadow by himself only dimly understood, that have been resting over his sweet mother, lifts him to a beau- tiful forgetfulness of his own loneliness and content at her relief. 0 God, let her sleep ever, he murmurs, For I have known her wake a hundred nights, When all the pillow where she laid her head Was brine-wet with her tears. 1889.] A co-called Peccimist of the Old Drama. 183 More than as an artistic creation, Giovanni is interesting to us from the pathos of his love, and from the evident affection with which the poet regarded him. There are other proofs, too, even finer, of Websters fondness for children. Snch are Antonios farewell to the babe in Cariolas arms, thy sweet arm- fnl, his exclamation of delight at the mention of his children breathed by Bosola in his dying ear, the iDnchesss last injunc- tion to her maid, Look thou give the boy Some syrup for his cough, and let the girl Say her prayers ere she sleep. Is it not sympathy with the graces and purities of the unstained soul, that canses love for children? Three of our most beautiful affections are for children, birds, and flowers. Snffer the little children, Consider the lilies of the fleld,the fowls of the air, what words could take the place of these in revealing the gentleness of Christ? But of flowers Webster says little. The other quality, however, the love of birds, is quite as distiuct as his feeling for children. Yet even here his sorrowful eye looks chiefly at the gloomy. Birds of ill-omen hover over his scenes, screech owls croak or beat against the casement of tragical death, larks are fed on turfs dug from graves, blackbirdsthe color of human sorrow fly before the fierce sparrow-hawk. A clear unwrinkled song attracts him less than broken notes, swift easy flights of aerial prosperity he turns from to watch what is more in keep- ing with his mood. Societys injustice reaches even to the birds. Pigeons, who belong to the lord of the manor, may steal corn at their will; but the sparrows? Oh, they only be- long to the lord of heaven, they go to the pot fort. Surely it is something more than a fancy if we believe that in pathetic reverie more than once he watched some caged bird over whose cries and flutterings for liberty its owner played in careless miniature the inexorableness of the great fate that held the poets soul imprisoned. Didst thou never see a lark in a cage ? he asks; such is the soul in the body; this world is like her little turf of grass, and the heaven oer our heads, like her looking-glass, only gives us a miserable knowledge of the smali compass of our prison. The underthought here of pity 184 ~Jokn Web8ter: [Sept., for the captive lark was no passing sentiment; once and again we catch an unmistakable suggestion of Websters love for birds. The robin redbreast and the nightingale Never live long in cages, he says somewhere; again, We think caged birds sing, when indeed they cry. Call for the robin redbreast and the wren, chants Vittorias distracted mother in that dirge for which Lamb could find no comparison save Arids song of sea-death: Since oer shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. The tranquil genius of Calderon made one of his most misera- ble heroes gaze after a for de pluma to identify it with rap- ture and liberty. For the sad English poet, creatures of dull plumage take the place of these winged flowers, and even they are caught into the same captivity with man, or in their free- dom are involved in gloomy offices above his corpse. Yet there is one exquisite exception, where the Duchess of Malfi is sighing over her frustrated love: The birds that live i th field On the wild benefit of nature, live Happier than we, for they can choose their mates, And carol their sweet pleasures to the spring. But in spite of these sympathies, did Webster after all gather nothing but despair from life? Surely he was no mis- anthrope, for misanthropy arises from hatefully exaggerated egotism. There is another form of bitterness that springs from the tenderest love for men; its desires for their happiness beaten back into disappointment. Yet this, too, shows a charac- ter deficient in qualities almost essential to the poet. The or- dinary man nubrightened by hope is only half a man; the poet-pessimist is a worse than Balaam, cursing when he was bidden bless. It is not pessimism to picture lives struggling through depths as of a gloomy forest, night and storm above them, lightning-hewn wrecks falling everywhere about their path. This despairing blackness, these ravages of an over- 1889.] A 8o& alled Pe88imi8t of the Old Drama. 185 whelming strength are earths grim realities. But it i8 pessim- ism to linger over representation of virtue tormented by sor- rows that do not purify, innocent misery hurled into eternal hopelessness, vice glorified by a success that is to be annihilated, not avenged, by death. Is it this that Webster has taught us of life? As I have tried to show, the two plays by which we are judging him were composed with reference to an evil which he regarded as peculiarly dangerous, and with which he was dealing with no compromising hand. His heart, quite as much as his judgment, was aroused; the tragedy of his plots pushed him to the deepest gloom. Lacking as he did breadth correspondent to his intensity, he gave little heed to shading suffering with consolation. These are tempest-studies, and if we find no serene stretches of blue sky, we must not say that he never brooded upon their peace; unless, indeed, we fail to discover any passing appreciation of their existence. But if we meet such incidental revelation, we must not subject it to quantitative estimate ; even a thread of light leading up through the blackness to the clear glory of an untroubled heaven, would give us reason to dissent from those who say that Webster had no personal faith that virtuous suffering meets reward or ill-doing punishment. It is in neglecting just these trifling suggestions that Web- sters critics have failed to present a complete sketch of his inner feeling. Vernon Lee reached even to the verge of the secret when, in her attempt to show that of r,eal justice in this life or compensation in another there is no thought, she quoted Bosolas dying words: 0, this gloomy world! In what a shadow, or deep pit of darkness, Doth womanish and fearful mankind live! Let worthy minds neer stagger in distrust, To suffer death or shame for what is just. This as it stands evidently supports the essayists position that for Webster life had nothing but wretchedness, though none the less he felt himself bound to suffer and perform for dutys sake. But why not go on to read the half-line that concludes the speech? Mine, says Bosola, mine is another 186 John JYeb8ter: [Sept., voyage. Websters powerful study of a recalcitrant villain ends true to its creators invariably stern morality. In con- trast to Flamineo, who revels in his instrumentality to vice, Bosola has from the first hearty sneers for himself, as he struggles feebly in the toils of vicious habit. Flamineo is a strong man, whose will holds his conscience in easy control. Bosola is a weak man, with moral instincts that he never can master. Whereas the former dies with defiant fortitude, the latter falters into final penitence and dies in a blind attempt to atone for his hateful misdeeds. For a moment, as he lies wounded, he hopes atonement has been made: It may be pain, but no harm to me to die In so good a quarrel. But as he looks up, the blackest frown of Justice is bent upon him. Oh, this gloomy world ! he exclaims: Let worthy minds neer stagger in distrust To suffer death or shame for what is just; Mine is another voyage. The good may meet a generous death calmly, but for one who has been heaping up wrath unto the day of wrath, all the time conscious of his guilt; who with eyes wide open has been trampling into unutterable miseries the purest, most command- ing, sweetest virtue; who has kept giving pledges to his con- science till the moment for action has come, and then has invariably laughed them to scorn; for such a man half deli- rious through the awful scenes he has enacted, penitent through the half malignant wish to undo his work when he finds that he has been tricked out of the wages for which he had sold his wickednessto expect forgiveness! His own con- science answers him. Nay, mine is another voyage ; and as he speaks, his soul departs on its despairing journey. Yet this is one critics proof-text for the assertion that in Webster of real justice in this life or of compensation in another, there is no thought. At least, here we find devel- oped the most solemn doctrine that there are two voyages from lifeto reward and to punishment. 1889.] A so-called Pessimist of the Old Drama. 187 Bnt we have also gracious evidence that this so-called pessi- mist did not lead the innocent children of his thought among scenes of agony only to leave them forever unavenged by mercy or justice, in the confidence of fntnre relief that he has attribnted to the Duchess of iMlalfi. There is no thought of compensation in another life ? In the overwhelming sorrow of separation from her husband, it is this very anticipation of ultimate peace that sustains her: In the eternal church, sir, she says to Antonio, I do hope we shall not part thus. Misery inflicted but for its own gloomy sake? 0, heaven, thy heavy hand is int, cries this same woman; I have seen my little boy oft scourge his top, And compared myself tot; naught made me eer Go right, but heavens scourge-stick. Afterward, tortured almost out of sanity, she asks Cariola: Dost thou think we shall know one another In the other world ? Is it in violence to his own expectation that the dramatist sends her consolation in the maids quick response, Yes, out of question? And have Websters critics ever read the dying prayer of the Duchess to her executioners, as they slip their strangling cords about her neck? Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength Must pull down Heaven upon me. What Christian moralist, again, has ever enunciated more nobly the principle of right action for its own generous sake, than has Webster in Antonios simple declaration of his moral- ity? Were there nor heaven nor hell, I should be honest. Had this been written in Greek, critics might have compre- hended the implication of its conditional syntax, even though they had missed the elevation of its moral tone. Yet, for the most part, we must admit, this spiritual tran- quility is obscured. Just a glimpse of blue sky, to repea our 188 John Webster: [Sept., figure, and the pall of the tempest sweeps back over the heavens. Nay, sometimes in the midst of the gloom, the dark- ness itself seems extinguished by utter blackness of despair, like a total eclipse of the sun during a storm. Ido not like to bow reverently before a work of art and, upon rising, throw a stone at the grave of its maker. What else is it to rank Vrittoria and The Duchess among Englands best dramas, while we talk harshly of their authors estimates of life, with no mention of causes of his melancholy or of the aim of his tragical lessons, with no afterthought of praise for his resolute moral loyalty, his delicate sympathies and anxious faith? To~ni~ixs MCLAUGHLIN. 1889.] ilfiartin & hongauer qf Colma~. 189 ARTICLE 111.MARTIN SCIIONGAUER OF COLMAR. THAT famous Flemish studio of Jan Van Eyck might perhaps have been likened to a candle which casts unwouted radiance iuto the night, attracting such errant iusects as have been sur- feited with the gloom. It chauced that among those art pilgrims who felt the vague attraction of the new brightness at Bruges was a certain Master Roger Van der Weyden named, in after years, by the Italians, Roger di Brnggio, from the city where he lived, painted his votive altar-pieces and died. In spite of an inborn spirit of conservatism which amounted to little short of impenetrability, Roger Van der Weyden could not but marvel at the splendid colors and exquisite finish which Jan Van Eyck, alone of all the artists in the world, knew how to give his works. Not even the strange and varied experiences of extended travels in Italy and the Orient could drive from him the impressions given by his Flem- ish master, and at last, when his wanderings came to an end and he found himself once more at Brouges, there seemed to him no work dearer or more grateful than the painting of other altar-pieces which should show something of that delicacy and color which he never ceased to admire. Even the works of Filippo Lippi and Ghiberti, two artists who had shown him an hundred conrtesies while he was in Italy, seemed to him to fall far behind the precise, clear, unswervingly truthful delineations of sky, meadow, and town (always as a background, though, for the Holy Virgin or the Cross), which he had seen on the walls of that familiar studio at home. But there was, too, an indefinable grace and brightness about the Van Eyck pictures a spatial atmosphere and an illuminationwhich he despaired of ever rivalling. Indeed it was doubtful if such pictures could be painted more than once in the history of the world. One day not very long after the years of the century had half gone by, a youth of about twenty-five came into the studio of Roger Van der Weyden at Binges. By his accent it was evident that he was not a Fleming, and it soon appeared that

1889.] ilfiartin & hongauer qf Colma~. 189 ARTICLE 111.MARTIN SCIIONGAUER OF COLMAR. THAT famous Flemish studio of Jan Van Eyck might perhaps have been likened to a candle which casts unwouted radiance iuto the night, attracting such errant iusects as have been sur- feited with the gloom. It chauced that among those art pilgrims who felt the vague attraction of the new brightness at Bruges was a certain Master Roger Van der Weyden named, in after years, by the Italians, Roger di Brnggio, from the city where he lived, painted his votive altar-pieces and died. In spite of an inborn spirit of conservatism which amounted to little short of impenetrability, Roger Van der Weyden could not but marvel at the splendid colors and exquisite finish which Jan Van Eyck, alone of all the artists in the world, knew how to give his works. Not even the strange and varied experiences of extended travels in Italy and the Orient could drive from him the impressions given by his Flem- ish master, and at last, when his wanderings came to an end and he found himself once more at Brouges, there seemed to him no work dearer or more grateful than the painting of other altar-pieces which should show something of that delicacy and color which he never ceased to admire. Even the works of Filippo Lippi and Ghiberti, two artists who had shown him an hundred conrtesies while he was in Italy, seemed to him to fall far behind the precise, clear, unswervingly truthful delineations of sky, meadow, and town (always as a background, though, for the Holy Virgin or the Cross), which he had seen on the walls of that familiar studio at home. But there was, too, an indefinable grace and brightness about the Van Eyck pictures a spatial atmosphere and an illuminationwhich he despaired of ever rivalling. Indeed it was doubtful if such pictures could be painted more than once in the history of the world. One day not very long after the years of the century had half gone by, a youth of about twenty-five came into the studio of Roger Van der Weyden at Binges. By his accent it was evident that he was not a Fleming, and it soon appeared that 190 Jfartin & honanuer of Colmar. [Sept., this new-corner had lately arrived from Antwerp, and that he intended shortly to return to his home at the town of Colmar in Alsatia. Martin Schongauer was his name and, so far, he had given the greater part of his attention to the art of the goldsmith, in which he had already attained some little skill. But in painting, too, he was interested and Roger Van der Weyden showed him those pictures in which he had himself striven to reproduce the color-effects of the matchless Van Eyck. Hans Memliing, an apprentice in the studio, struck hands with the Alsatian stranger and the three spent a long time over the pictures, Roger Van der Weyden descanting upon them and the young men listening with that respectful attention which befitted their years and station. In Antwerp whence Martin Schongauer had come, there had been some spectacle or procession in which an elephant had been shown to the wondering burghers and to such fortunate strangers as happened to be within the walls of the city. That great beast with swinging trunk and huge flapping ears, each almost as large as the apron he wore when working at his gold, had made no slight impression on Martin Schongauer and he was resolved to paint it or etch it on copperby a new process just then discoveredbefore time could make faint or efface his memory of its strange appearance. To see a living elephant was no small adventure. His father Caspar Schouganer, with whom he was learning how to work in precious metals would have given much to catch but a glimpse of such an uncouth Eastern monster. But Roger Van der Weyden, too, had wonders to communicaterelating for the most part to his own exploits in Italyand before these the sight of a single elephant was as nothing. In after years when Martin Schonganer had himself made the grand tour and had studied in the house of Peruginomeeting there and becoming the friend of a young painter named IRafaellethese various tales may have seemed to him less unheard of than when he listened to them from the lips of Roger Van der Weyden,his first teacher in painting, should he except the priceless home instruction in art which had begun in his very childhood at Colmar. After his return to Alsatia and decision thereafter to turn his thoughts to picture-making, the color system of Van Eyck 1889.1 Alartin Schonganer qf colmar. 191 which he had learned almost unaltered in its transmission seemed to Martin Schonganer most admirable, but the excessive minuteness of the Flemish painter and his attention to the details of flowers and leavesalmost as great as that which he gave to the face of the Holy Virgin herselfcould not be altogether commended. There was in Cologne a school of painters, and their style was not unfamiliar to him: although deficient in color it could never be diverted from the true nobility of art by merely trivial things. In the paintings of these masters at Cologne, the rich, golden backgroundfor gold alone seemed suitable for scenes where saints and apostles and Christ himself were depicted,the faces wearing an inef- fable calm; the purity, the unaffected piety, the gentle inno- cence, together with a soft, contemplative and ahuost unearthly repose in every feature; the heavy draperies falling in compli- cated foldseven more rigid and angular than those of Van Eyck; all these refinements seemed to him worthy of attention and imitative effort. However, as Roger Van der Weyden had explained to him, Jan Van Eyck was always accustomed to insist that there should be individuality in the faces which he painted,and this at least seemed reasonable. It was the fashion at Cologne to paint St. Katherine and St. Margaret so exactly alike that if they had happened to lay down their symbols for a moment, no one could have told the one from the other. Bnt people of the fifteenth century after Christ were by no means indistinguishable and, perhaps, it would be better to represent the saints and holy ones as differing in expression, each from each, and not leave them all as like each other as the old pictures in the stained glass windows where every head was tipped sideways at just the angle of the rest. The landscape backgrounds of Van Eyck, on the other hand, did not seem to Martin Schongauer at all better than the golden ones which artists at Cologne had always painted. More- over the associations of his youth had been with the beaten gold, and when, in middle life, he turned his hand to painting it seemed but right that he should give as rich a setting to his angels and his virgins as he had given the figures of some jewel casket, or those upon the delicately wrought necklaces and bracelets which had been sent to Augsburg and even to the city of Nuremberg itself. 192 3fartin Sc14ongauer of Colmar. [Sept., This group of painters at Cologne, he knew, was accustomed to care little for mere earthly beauty, in their works. But, after all, one could have no conception of heavenly beauties except as being like those of this world, only somewhat subbli- mated and removed by touches of idealism. Therefore he made it his daily duty to look into the faces of all the people whom he met, and he was unresting in his analysis and criticism of the difierent features which presented themselves from time to time. After a season he found that he had developing within himself, some vague sense of an ideal countenance, proportioned not like any face he had ever seen .but more like the faces of antique statues he had examined at Milan and Rome. It chanced that people admired the faces and figures that he painted. A certain new dignity and grace in his women had excited the favorable comment of other artists and connois- seurs and, encouraged by this, he strove still more earnestly to realize on the wood his dreams of feminine loveliness and worth. They began to call him Bel Martino now in the southern countriesfor his paintings were known in Italy, Spain, France and even Englandand it signified to him that a devotion to ideal beauty as well as to the exactness of coloring and some of the realities of Yan Ecyk, was the true artistic spirit which he must always cultivate. But, when painting Christ or the Yirgin Mother he could not deny himself the depicting of those slim long fingers, and meagre limbs which, even from the time of the Byzantine painters, had indicated how far removed were such heavenly ones from the grossness and materialism of the world. As for drapery, he made models from paper, moistened them and allowed them to harden in the folds he thou~ht most fitting. Certainly these folds were angular and rigid, but that scarcely disturbed him, for such would be inevitable in a heavy, rich material. All these years in which he painted and reflected upon the beautiful things of the natural worldnot altogether lost, it seemed to himMartin Schonganer also worked at many engravings on coppera method of graphic representatio