THE NEW EINGLANDER. No. CLXXXIV. JANUARY, 1885. ARTICLE 1.THE LIFE OF FREDERICK DEKISON MAURICE. The Life of Frederick Denison liliaurice, chiefly told in his own Letters; edited by his son, FREDERICK MAURICE; 2 vols. New York: Chas. Scribuers Sons, 1884. THE method adopted by the author,or rather as he evidently wishes himself to be called, the editor,of this Biography, is subject to various unavoidable advantages and disadvan- tages. In the case of one whose character and work bear the stamp of so positive a personality as that of Maurice, both the advantages and the disadvantages are sure to be heightened greatly. Colonel Maurice informs us (p. v.) that he has endeav- ored, as far as possible, to make the narrative of his fathers life an autobiography. He has, therefore, not proposed to edit a Life and Letters, but rather a Life in letters; in order that the person concerning whom the information is to be given may be presented to the world without concealment, and as he really and interiorly was. Among the disadvan- tages of this methoddisadvantages, which are all of them voL. yin. 1 2 Frederick Denison Maurice. [Jan., nearly as great in the ease of Maurice as they could well be in the ease of any oneare the following. The reader who is not thoroughly familiar with the schools of thought, the char- acters, and the events, to which he is introduced in these volumes, does not find himself enabled by the brief connecting explanations of the editor to comprehend sufficiently the situa- tions out of the midst of which the letters arose. Such a reader, especially when engaged with the earlier letters, has not yet learned enough of the character of Maurice to understand how far words, perhaps poured forth to friends in the excite- ment of an evening hour, represent the calmer feeling and maturer thought of their writer. Moreover, he may naturally feel the desire that more of the work of selection and expla- nation had been done for him. He may be tempted to shrink from the connected perusal of these volumes through his feel- ing that all portions of them can scarcely be alike valuable, while he himself feels incompetent to select what is of greatest value. Nevertheless, we do not complain of this method of biogra- phy in general, or of its execution in the present case. It has certain marked advantages; and some of the advantages are especially great in this case. The editor has certainly shown most commendable diligence, affection, and candor, in his work. It is a great privilege and benefit to have the more interior life of a man like Maurice, thus freely and completely opened to our respectful and loving inquiry. His real life was one largely of conflicts both from within and from without; his early years were spent amidst conflicts; his letters are largely confidential with respect to them. To the more intelligent and reflective reader, therefore, the letters reveal the man who experienced these conflicts, the secret of his influence, the throne of his moral power; at the same time, they reveal also his deficiencies, and the losses of influence and self-develop- ment which he suffered thereby. We shall call attention to some of the more marked charac- teristics of the personality and work of Maurice, as they are impressed afresh upon the mind by reading his biography; and we shall use the same candor which these volumes them- selves invite. 1885.1 Frederick Deni8on Miaurice. 3 The one prominent and central characteristic of this man was his power of intense and pure ethical feeling. The word ethical is here nsed in a limited way. It was the feeling of moral rightness, or righteousness, which dominated the theological views, the self-examinations, the controversies and friendships, and the more public action of F. ID. Maurice. This feeling was both nature and character with him. It was the chief source of his adherence, as well as of his opposition, both to opinions and to persons. It even sometimes gave hini the appearance of a narrowness and bitterness toward those who differed from him, which were quite foreign to his real intent. The effect of such intense, and yet somewhat too restricted, ethical feeling upon the views of truth held by Maurice is especially worthy of note. It imparted in his mind an ethical coloring or character to all truth. In the more purely scien- tific interest in truth, and in an appreciation of the scientific way of conducting researches into it, he was singularly deficient. Such a deficiency could not, of course, fail to make itself manifest within the sphere of his distinctively social, ethical, or theological opinion~. For we are using the term scientific with no narrow reference to the merely physical sciences. In examining and discussing questions of sociology, morals, and religion, there is a scientific spirit and a scientific method. This spirit and method require the calm dispassionate weighing of all the evidence at command, the recognition of the rela- tive value of the different kinds of evidence, the acceptance (at least provisional) of those opinions which seem to have the best evidence, and that, whether the opinions harmonize per- fectly with the ethical system of the universe which has previously been adopted as a whole, or not. It is not our present purpose to estimate the value or the limits of this method in the examination of distinctively ethical and theo- logical questions. But surely the deficiency of Maurice in the comprehension and use of this method, together with the strength of his ethical feeling, explains in part his character and his conduct. It was not without meaning that Maurice in many of his letters spoke of my Puritan temperament, (i. 1). His 4 Frederick Dertison liii auspice. [Jan.,. father, Michael Maurice, was fond of saying that all should believe that to which their conscientious convictions led them (i. 7). Intense individuality of character, leading to earnestness and aggressiveness in religious conviction, was a sure mark of the race (i. 28). This Puritan father was also remembered by his son as exclaiming once and again, in a public meeting in Bristol: I hate toleration, I hate tolera- tion. In his early life, F. ID. Maurice speaks of himself as carefully guarded from fiction of all kinds, modern or roman- tic, (i. 17). He was indeed encouraged to read Gattons Birds ; but he confesses that he never knew the note of a single bird, nor watched the habits of any one. Anything social or political took a hold of me such as no objects in nature, beautiful or useful had. At the age of ten he was taken into all his fathers schemes for social improvement, Bible Society, soup kitchen, and clothing club. But even this interest in social or political matters was throughout his later life one awakened almost wholly in connection with the appli- cation to them of moral and theological ideas regarding the nature of the Divine kingdom and of its growth among men. This same intense but rather restricted ethical feeling gives us the secret of his attitude toward those critical views of the Bible which were then being held by Stanley and Thirlwall and in extreme form, by Colenso. To Stanley with his finer historical sense, and broad, calm survey of the history of Gods people, there caine little fear that anything of permanent value to the Church would be lost by the criticism or the con- flicts of his own time. But Maurice was not infrequently disturbed and alarmed lest, in the temporary neglect of certain favorite conceptions of his own, the cause with which he so much identified those conceptions, should suffer a lasting harm. He was therefore inclined to complain of Stanley because the latter looked at things from a purely historical point of view (ii. 601). To Thirlwall, as well as to Stanley, a great part of the events related in the Old Testament . . . had no more apparent connection with our religion than those of Greek or Roman history. But Maurice could not so easily resign his historical and critical right to the moral lessons, to the instruc- tions on conduct in social and political affairs, which he had been wont to draw from these very events. 1885.] Frederick Deni8on ilfaurice. 5 The lectures of Maurice upon the several different subjects which occupied him at different times in his life, partook, of course, of this leading characteristic of his mind. In consid- ering the growth of the English nation and its literature he moved at once and naturally toward the social and ethical ideas which he wished to generalize as controlling humanity. (see i. 293 f.). In his books and pamphlets as well the same characteristic seems apparent. It is not without significance that we find him declaring (i. 2O~): All little children are Platonists; and it is their education which makes men Aristo- telians. lV~8sen8chaft and Gnosticism do not always get their respective rights at his hands; aud perhaps they are not always clearly distinguished (see i. 168). Let it not be supposed for a moment, however, that any- thing of this central characteristic of Maurice was not highly honorable alike to his heart and to his conduct. Nor should what has been said above be interpreted as detracting at all from our appreciation of his excellent intellectual quality aud its fine, strong influence upon his own generation. The inten- sity of his ethical conviction led him almost infallibly to espouse by preference the righteous but persecuted cause, whether as represented in a persou or iu an opinion. With the exception of Stanley, no other clergyman of the Church of England probably exercised so large and determining an influence in restricting the movement of iDr. Pusey and his friends amid allies. The largeness and strength of this influence were due to the fact that Maurice always spoke with perfect courage and candor the thoughts that were born within him as the result of moral conviction. His motives were, as a rule, no doubt much more purely ethical than those of the men whom he felt com- pelled most to oppose. It was difficnlt for minds that had indeed somewhat of the same intensity, but much less of singleness and purity of moral motive, to measure him aright or to go far in comprehending him; it was impossible for such minds to form a lasting alliance with him. The Oxford party thought well of this man for a time, and in view of his service done them by his tract on Subscription no Bondage (a question, by the way, on which he afterward confessed a change of view to the effect that subscription ~8 bondage,see 0 Frederick Deni8on ]llawrice. [Jan., i. 1~4); but when the same man, out of the same intense but pnre motives, earnestly and publicly rejected the views of their leader in a tract on Baptism, this leader considered the humility of Maurice a sham, and his earnestness an impertinence (i 224). Such a lover of truth and righteonsness was cpiite too thor- oughly ethical to become a theological partisan; although he not infrequently spoke and wrote with much of what seems like partisan heat and partisan impatience of debate and inves- tigation. lie had Reasons for not joining a party in the Church (i. 235), and these reasons were matters of moral principle with him. The same reasons withheld him from identifying himself with any party, made him eager to be reconciled with all from every party, and ready to stand up in the defence of those subjected to unrighteous treatment by whatever party. From this same root of strong ethical feeling sprung that longing for unity, and yet great zeal in controversy, which com- biued to lend so much of pathos to the life of Maurice. The desire for unity, he says of himself, has haunted me all my life through (i. 41); of course he is obliged at once to add~ I have never been able . . . to accept any of the different schemes for satisfying it which men have devised. In all his earlier life, and indeed even in its latest years, this longing for unity took the form of an effort to recognize in himself what was true of the views of others, and so with confidence to persuade these others that his own views did contain the true elements of all their common faiths. lie shrunk from the disease and selfishness of independency; he would not draw a cordon about himself, and dwell in his own exclusiveness. lie asks (i. 350): Do not I carry about High Churchism, Evan- gelicalismn, Rationalism, Atheism in myself? Is not everything I see in them working within? . . . I feel that I ought to be High Churchman, Evangelical, and Rationalist; that being all, I might escape the curse of each. And yet lie would not be called by others an eclectic or a Broad Churchman (ii. 531 f.), for fear of conniving at the making of another sect. There can be little doubt that such a position as this was capa- ble of much misinterpretation by his clerical brethren; was, 1885.1 Frederick Denisou JJliaurice. 7. indeed, incapable of any reasonable interpretation in the judg- ment of the average ecclesiastic of that day. They may well have asked themselves, if a man is not a Calvinist or an Armi- nian, a High Churchman, Low Churchman, or Broad Church- man; why, then, what is he? What can he be, in truth, but an infidel or an agnostic? The attitude of Stanley toward such matters was perhaps more consistent, as it certainly was more intelligible to the ordinary understanding. They might call Stanley Liberal or Broad Churchman, he was not anx- ious to disown the title; they might accuse him of being Erastian, and he was ready to reply, I am an Erastian of the Erastians. Maurice, however, grew into a clearer compre- hension of his own peculiar position and of its value for his own day, as his life advanced. But it may well be doubted whether he ever caine to so clear an understanding of his own views and place in history with relation to other elements of influence, as it belongs to the highest intelligence to secure. Nobler words, however, and words that go deeper into the heart of the truth, have rarely been written than these of Maurice in a letter of date, February, 1839: I have endeav- ored in my tracts to prove that if Christ be really the head of every man, aud if he really have taken human flesh, there is ground for a universal fellowship among men. . . . I have maintained that it is the business of a Church to assert this ground of universal fellowship; that it ought to make men un- derstand and feel how possible it is for men as men to frater- nize in Christ. If, then, he goes on to say, the proposal is made to fraternize on the ground of being Baptist, or mdc- pendent, his answer is: I cousider that your whole scheme is a flat contradiction and lie You do not really mean us to unite in Christ as being members of his body; you mean us to uuite in holding certain notions about Christ (i. 258 f.). Yet this same letter contains unmistakable tokens of the fact that Maurice did not himself adequately appreciate the enor- mous difficulties, both within and without the Church, which stand in the way of the realization of his ideal of Christian unity; or the necessity for a bug historical process of ap- proaches to its realization; or the really small amount which the Church of England, in common with all the other separate 8 Frederick Deni8or& 3lauriee. [Jan., ecclesiastical organizations, was prepared to contribute directly to such an end. The mingling of such noble desires and endeavors in a work and life of almost constant controversy must have contributed much to that divine pathos which many recognized in Mau- rice. The same causes operated to attach some men strongly to him, and to repel others almost as strongly. These causes gave him much of the influence which he had, and which he exercisedhowever contrary to his best wishesin the way of controversy. The soul that longed so intensely to be united with all men in one Lord, was in fact compelled to suffer more than most from the sense of being isolated. And doubtless he was not least suspected by some to whom he was really most allied. This same intense ethical nature appears in the more private religious life, in the self-examinations, self-accusations, and confessions of Maurice. He is prone to find fault with himself for idleness, when his friends suspect exhaustion from over- work. He discovers much impurity of motive in himself; but Kingsley estimates him as the most beautiful human soul, whom God has ever, in His great mercy, allowed me, most unworthy, to meet with upon this earth; the man who, of all men whom I have seen, approached nearest to my conception of St. John, the Apostle of Love (ii. 554). His sense of sin is great; his sense of dissatisfaction with his own work is not less. He fears his own intense pride, while others consider him over shy and self-distrustful; the coldness of his piety, while his family observe tokens of night-hours spent in prayer. The two truths upon which such great intensity of moral conviction became chiefly concentrated, may be stated in such propositions as follow. First: The holy and invisible God is a real living person, the desire and possibility of communion with whom belong to every human being. It was the latter part of this truth, however, upon which Maurice insisted with most unique emphasis. The other side of the truth of Gods Fatherhood was the divine childhood of man. All men con- stitutionally desire to realize the privileges of this their exalted paternity. But the desire slumbers or is only feebly enkindled; and when it is enkindled, it is not for man without help from 1885.1 Frederick Deni~on Jilaurice. 9 Christ to find the way to his Father. The preacher of the Gospel brings men the message which appeals to their unre- cognized better selves, to the longings that belong to them as his children. Except I could address all kinds of people as members of Christ and children of God, I could not address them all (i. 236). To have this intercourse with God, to see God as belongs to the pure in heart, this is the sum of all theology and of all life. Doctrines are true doctrines call them orthodox, call them heterodox, or what you willwhich further such intercourse; such are to be held fast in life and death. The Bible brings such doctrines; it is true, as far as, and for the reason that, it brings them. Christ mediates the vision of God: This is very faith (i. 135 f.). The second of those two truths on which the intense moral conviction of Maurice seems to us to have been chiefly concen trated, was closely allied in his thiuking with the foregoing truth. This was the universality and anity of the Church as a real and not an imaginary body, a kingdom of God designed and destined to rule over all (i. 151). In connection with his reflections upon such a view of the Church, he was accustomed to propound the apparently paradoxical opinion, that Protest- autism is not predicable of a Church but only of a nation. Cath- olicity is the predicate of the Church (i. 141). On July 12, 1834, he writes as follows: I would live and die for the asser- tion of this truth, that the Universal Church is just as much a reality as any particular nation; that the latter can only be be- lieved real as one believes in the former (i. 166). For this Catholic Communion he considers that the Church of England is now the only firm, consistent witness. He will be thank- ful to God, should another such be raised up in Germany. But the views of the German historians, including Neander, he considers mere dr~ams of what the Church really is. How Maurice would reconcile this attractive theory with the hard facts in the midst of which he was himself so bruised, we have no adequate means of knowing. His ideal service of the Church Catholic as the true yet visible body of Christ, as truly real and visible as the Protestant nation of England, and as embodied chiefly in the State Church of that nation, seems to us more of a dreamhowever noblethan does the doctrine of 10 Frederick Denison lifaurice. [Jan., the Church as an invisible yet spiritual reality, in the form in which this doctrine was held by the great German historian, Keander. We have no space to speak in detail of those views on the Bible, Baptism, the Atonement, and Esehatology, which were so much distrusted and misunderstoodas Maurice himself be- lievedby his contemporaries. One or two quotations from his letters, upon the first and the last mentioned of these sub- jects must suffice. In a letter to Kingsley, he speaks of him- self as solemnly and inwardly impressed with the truth that the Bible, as a means of attaining to the knowledge of the living God, is precious beyond all expression or conception; but when made a substitute for that knowledge, may become a greater deadener to the human spirit than all other books, (i. 372). On the question of Future Punishment his position is thus plainly stated for him by another, in a way which met his own approval. What he (that is, Maurice) denies is, that we are plainly told in the Holy Scripture, or that the English Church requires us to hold, that a wicked man must remain everlastingly a wicked man, or that death must be re- garded as placing an impassable barrier against a sinners return from sin to righteousness, or that the victory of Eternal Love over sin is impossible unless it be gained during this mortal life (ii. 369). Nor is there space to speak of the noble efforts of Maurice in behalf of the working-men of London. These efforts as a Christian socialist cost him more even than his reputed heresies; but they also gained for him certain things of great value. He learned something of what the so-called laboring classes suppose to be the animating spirit of the Christian Church and of the God whom it worships. But he taught these classes in some measure what is the true spirit of 0-od and of the real children of God toward them. And when he was deposed from his professorial chairs in Kings College, an address signed by nearly one thousand names of laborers representing ninety-five different occupations testified to the impression which this teacher of Divinity and of English literature had made upon them. A man fearing God and loving his fellow men, but much 1885.1 ii Frederick Deni8on Maurice. misrepresented and malignedchiefly because of his rare zeal in the truth and courage in proclaiming it,longing for unity and distraught with much striving, represented by his oppo- nents in lights so false as to render his real personality quite unrecognizable by any considerable number of his cont empo- raries, he is all the more entitled to our respect and affection as a most genuine and worthy workman in the Divine Kingdom of truth and self-sacrifice. These volumes have an interest and a value which reach be- yond the picture they enable us to form of the personality and work of Maurice. Familiar names occur on many of the pages; here are to be obtained glimpses of Carlyle, of Sterling, of John Stuart Mill, of Augustus and Julius Hare, of Stanley, of Charles Kingsley, and of others whose presence seems to lend the charm of social intercourse to the perusal of the volumes. Many men, and influences, and actions, of a far less agreeable kind may also be here observed, and that without the loss and pain involved in actual personal contact with them. The reader will doubtless reflect how like the men and influence and actions that encompass himself are those portrayed in this book as belonging to another land and another generation. How familiar, indeed is much of this kind of feeling, talk, and conduct! We can listen to Mr. Hugh IRose somewhat. pompously denouncing German iRationalism from the Cambridge pulpit, and treating all German theolo~y as rationalistic. We can feel a sense of shame for their blind zeal and cowardly subserviency to the views of their partisan organs, as we view the country clergy flocking to Oxford in order to refuse to Jowett, whose opinions they held to be mischievous, payment for work admirably done, with which those opinions were in no way connected. My father burnt with indignation, says Colonel Maurice; no wonder! what righteous and clear-sighted man would not? We can detect the feeling of suspicion which was dealt out to the students of German scholarly writings, and the cringe of fear which the rank and file of the clergy felt lest they should be known by the editors of their religious newspaper to be readers of works not entered on their expurgated lists, and as pernicious as tliose of Maurice himself. We can understand the heart of 12 Fred& rick Denison iJifiaur& ce. [Jan., the subject of this biography as it flamed with indignation and with the sense of outrage against these same religious period- icals. We can feel the motive which led him to make a deter- mined battle against what he believed to be the immoral and godless domination of anonymous religious journalism (ii. 370) We can conceive of the temptation he experienced as one who looked upon the whole trade and calling as utterly and only accursed, (i. 242), a trade of propagating among their readers bitterness and strife under the name of religion.~~ We can comprehend why he considered the partisan religious press to be governed without moral principle, to be chief makers of infidels throngh the effects of religions slander and misrep- resentation; why he wrote to Kingsley in December, 1847 (i. 448): Oh! bring up your children to fly from periodicals more than from any plague. Why is there not a prayer in the Litany for deliverance from them ? But we can also rejoice in the kindly kindling of his heart as recognition of service came somewhat slowly and fitfully to him, and as friends gath- ered around to unite in lifting up a banner for fair and free investigation of the truths so dear to his inmost being. We would not, however, close these most interesting volumes amidst the savor of strife, and of indignation even at wrongs received. This servant of God, after all done and suffered, breathed out his life in a benediction: The knowledge of the love of Godthe blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost be amongst youamongst usand remain with us forever. 1885.1 The Source of the Beaubful. 13 ARTICLE JL.TIIF SOURCE OF THE BEAUTIFUL. [DR. CARL SCHNAASE was born in 1798 at Dantzig and died in Wies- baden in 1875. His father was rich, and during his early years the family traveled about and had no fixed residence. He studied at the University of Berlin, and in 1819 passed an examination in law which entitled him to a government position in his native town. Before enter- ing upon the discharge of his duties he visited Dresden, and was so much impressed by the beauty of the art-collections which that city con- tained that, ever after, all of his activities which could be spared from legal duties were devoted to the study of art. In 1821 he was promoted to the position of referee in chancery (referendarius). In 1826 he was appointed procurator at Dusseldorf. In 1848 he was transferred to Berlin and promoted to the Obertribunal. In 1866 his failing health obliged him to resign his position and to seek a milder climate. He removed to Wiesbaden and there, as already stated, he died. His principal work is a History of Art. It was commenced in 1848 and finished in seven volumes in 1862. A second edition was com- menced in 1864 and was not finished at the time of his death. The seventh volume was nearly completed; but the eighth, an additional volume, was hardly commenced, though its materials had been gath- ered and arranged. The estimation in which Schnaase was held is shown by the fact that such writers as Carl von Lfttzow, Carl Friederichs, J. Rudolf Rahn, Alwin Schultz, Eduard Dobbert, and Wilhelm Liibke were happy to be best known as his assistants in the preparation of the second edition of his great work. The eighth volume is entirely from the pen of the last mentioned writer. Schnaase inspired every one he met with deep affection for himself and with profound reverence for art. He ennobled and dignified the study of art, and by his written and his spoken word he caused it to be accepted by all the universities of Germany as an essential branch of philosophical inquiry. The object of his labors was to show that nations disclose themselves more clearly in their arts than in any other of their doings, and that to omit the study of art leaves ethnology incomplete and uncertain: The following is a translation of the first chapter of the introduction to his History. Schunases writing is in places hard to read and harder to translate, and like many of his countrymen he often satisfies himself with a vague indication of the thought. Until German art writers appreciate clearness in thought and expression, their ideas will not pass current till the French have mastered and interpreted them. It is as true now as it was years ago that the kraut of German thought needs a French dressing to be palatable.D. CADY EATON.]

1885.1 The Source of the Beaubful. 13 ARTICLE JL.TIIF SOURCE OF THE BEAUTIFUL. [DR. CARL SCHNAASE was born in 1798 at Dantzig and died in Wies- baden in 1875. His father was rich, and during his early years the family traveled about and had no fixed residence. He studied at the University of Berlin, and in 1819 passed an examination in law which entitled him to a government position in his native town. Before enter- ing upon the discharge of his duties he visited Dresden, and was so much impressed by the beauty of the art-collections which that city con- tained that, ever after, all of his activities which could be spared from legal duties were devoted to the study of art. In 1821 he was promoted to the position of referee in chancery (referendarius). In 1826 he was appointed procurator at Dusseldorf. In 1848 he was transferred to Berlin and promoted to the Obertribunal. In 1866 his failing health obliged him to resign his position and to seek a milder climate. He removed to Wiesbaden and there, as already stated, he died. His principal work is a History of Art. It was commenced in 1848 and finished in seven volumes in 1862. A second edition was com- menced in 1864 and was not finished at the time of his death. The seventh volume was nearly completed; but the eighth, an additional volume, was hardly commenced, though its materials had been gath- ered and arranged. The estimation in which Schnaase was held is shown by the fact that such writers as Carl von Lfttzow, Carl Friederichs, J. Rudolf Rahn, Alwin Schultz, Eduard Dobbert, and Wilhelm Liibke were happy to be best known as his assistants in the preparation of the second edition of his great work. The eighth volume is entirely from the pen of the last mentioned writer. Schnaase inspired every one he met with deep affection for himself and with profound reverence for art. He ennobled and dignified the study of art, and by his written and his spoken word he caused it to be accepted by all the universities of Germany as an essential branch of philosophical inquiry. The object of his labors was to show that nations disclose themselves more clearly in their arts than in any other of their doings, and that to omit the study of art leaves ethnology incomplete and uncertain: The following is a translation of the first chapter of the introduction to his History. Schunases writing is in places hard to read and harder to translate, and like many of his countrymen he often satisfies himself with a vague indication of the thought. Until German art writers appreciate clearness in thought and expression, their ideas will not pass current till the French have mastered and interpreted them. It is as true now as it was years ago that the kraut of German thought needs a French dressing to be palatable.D. CADY EATON.] 14 like Source of the Beautiful. [Jan., THEORETICAL discnssions about beauty and art may pos- sibly be regarded as useless or frivolous; yet for many years, and especially in Germany, they have engaged the attention of the keenest intellects. Countless efforts have been made to locate and define the idea of the beautiful. Though every new school of philosophy has made the attempt, it is in such enquiries that the schools have not only have had their poorest success but have come to their widest differences. It would seem as if while in other branches of philosophic enquiry a scientific basis is always desired, at least by experts, here there is opposition to a standard. Philosophers would, apparently, permit the notiou that ~sthetics is an idle employment and that philosophy has but little taste for the beautiful; while connoisseurs and true lovers of the beautiful prefer to regard beauty from the point of view of the feelings and in its indi- vidual and separate manifestations. These latter, however, on their part differ so much from one another in their opinions, and so often contradict their very selves in the reasons they give for preferences, that the need of general notions, the necessity of establishing principles aud of formulating laws, ever and anew claims attention. From sentiment we are driven to reflection and from reflection back to sentiment in a never- ending circle. Despite, however, the difficulties of the sub- ject the claim to be able to pass judgment on the beautifulis universal, and to disclaim the ability is unpardonable. So every art writer must tread these slippery paths anew, and if he cannot construct a philosophical system reaching down to the deep sources of the human intellect, he must at least and at the very outset surveythe domain of the beautiful and lay down its divisions and their boundaries as he perceived them. Otherwise he will be confused and misunderstood in all subse- quent developments of his own ideas. Nothing is too contradictory to be alleged of the beautiful. It is a mere appearance, a pure and simple appearance; but a mere external appearance is of all things the most unsubstan- tial and vague, while the spiritual meaning to which it gives expression is every thing. It is entirely objective; the artist should disappear, only his work should speak: and yet it rests upon the innermost and most subjective feelings of the artist. 1885.] i/ike Source of the Beautiful. 15 It is a completed entity, an indivisible whole; and yet it must contain the greatest and the most unfailing variety. It is com- pletely independent, existing only of its own force; and yet it is most intimately connected with every branch of intellec- tual activity, with religion, with morals and even with juris- prudence. These are all affected by it, and may all pass judgment upon it. As acquaintance with art increases, new contradictions not only disclose themselves, but show themselves to belong to the innermost nature of the beautiful. More simple and less con- tradictory objects may be useful, good, just or possessed of other valuable qualities, but they cannot be beautiful. It therefore appears that beauty is a mysterious something which is not within the limits of common sense and common understanding. It is reassuring, however, to find that a similar mystery surrounds all of mans highest interests. Religion, morals, the lives of races and the life of the individual, are all of the same mysterious character. These thoughts suggest that a firm position may be reached by a consideration of the mysterious contradictions which make up human life. The source of these human mysteries lies in mans nature and not outside of it. He himself is a mystical union of contradictions. Who am I? This suffering body or this freely aspiring soul? Am I the youth who enjoys, the adult who reflects, or the aged who forgets? What a contradictory being, yet what an indiscerptible entity! In considering the contradictions of mans being, the funda- mental contradiction of soul and body is eventually reached. Man always claims that his individual self resides in the spirit- ual side of his organization. In hi~ investigations he is dis- posed to regard the body only in the light of a borrowed garment, or as a prison within which he is temporarily con- fined. But on closer examination it will be found that no such separation exists. The body is neither hostile to the spiritual man nor superfluous to it. And man even in the domain of the spirit has not full liberty. In the physical world he is limited by multifarious laws; so too in the domain of the spirit he is the subject of a fixed and coherent government and is controlled by a higher necessity. He can only perceive and 16 The Source of the Beaut~ful. [Jan., recognize conditions in whose creation he has had no part. Mans poor Ego, naked and alone, seems to be held in equilib- rium between the two domains of the spirit and the body, and in a space so confined that every motion leads it over the bor- der and brings it at once into contact with the laws which govern the body or the laws that govern the soul. Not only this, but every act seems to bring him into contact with the laws of both domains; and he suffers additionally from their mutual antagonism. As a citizen of the spiritual world he regards himself as superior to things as they appear; lie forms conclusions in reference to the principles and forces which govern appear- ances; he constructs systems of thought and establishes rules of good and evil. As an earth-born and sentient creature he not only continually violates these rules, but experience shows him that dumb nature in the plenitude of her productions and in the vast variety of her manifestations despises his arid concep- tions, refutes his conclusions, and frustrates his plans. The result is a sense of dissension in his innermost being, a miserable unhappiness from which the only relief is found in that daily occupation and its attendant success which diverts the mind and leads it away from selfinspection. There is ever present, however, even to activity, a dismal background which makes the man long for convincing proof of the unity of his humanity. Such a conviction cannot grow out of religious faith or follow philosophical conclusion; for these appertain to the spiritual side of man only, and instead of quieting the sense of contradiction will intensify it. The conviction can only result from some operation in which the two sides of mans nature take equal part. Such a process, and one that pacifies and reconciles emo- tions, is the act of taking pleasure in observing the external ap- pearance and foriu of things. - A mere animal finds no such pleasure. He is only attracted by the objects which administer to his appetites and his passions. He consumes without admir- ing. A pure spirit would be satisfied with pure insight; exter- nal appearances would not attract it. Here, therefore, is an activity in which mans combined nature may be emuployed, and be employed harmoniously and as a unit. 1885.1 [[he Sowree of the Beautjful. IT The beautiful has been negatively described as something that is not useful. The term useful should not be limited in application to those things which satisfy physical wants only. It should be extended to those things which increase knowl- edge and to those things which by elevating the standard of citizenship in the domain of thought increase power over the outside world. The sense of the beautiful has a want at the bottom of it. The beautiful satisfies this want and is therefore useful. This want, however, is the most delicate of all wants, the one which has the least possible relationship to an objective and physical necessity and one that is only felt by the noble and the refined of mankind. For physical appetites the beau- tiful is superfluous; for spiritual longings, it is unimportant. Pleasure derived from the perception of form is of many kinds. The first kind that manifests itself both in nations and in individuals is, perhaps, that which results from the excess or even the uselessness of the objects contemplated. A harm- less joy in well-being, free from grossness and sensuality but devoid of deep significance; a child-like toying with objects which attract and appear friendly: in a word, the sense of the agreeable. In the agreeable are found the first beginnings of the satisfaction of the longings of mans higher nature; but as yet the satisfaction is merely on the surface and the enjoyment may be unconscious. The light-hearted enjoyment of the agreeable, however, can- not fail to lead to serious considerations. IReflection will beget the perception of important relations indicated by the exterior forms of things. There are objects which by their size or by their importance distinguish themselves from others and which lead the mind away from the consideration of their physical properties to the contemplation of the almighty power which created them and all other things besides. Such objects excite the sense of the sublime. The sublime is most closely connected with religion. It not only satisfies the innermost feelings of the thinking man, but it excites his outer self to a less material method of observation. In these two kinds of percep- tion of form, in the sense of the agreeable and in the sense of the sublime, mans whole nature is active as a unit. He begins to find himself on neutral soil where the contradictions of his voL. viii. 2 18 The Source of the Beautiful. [Jan., nature seem satisfied, and where he neither suffers the exclu- sive domination of the laws of the soul nor of those of the body. But the satisfaction afforded by these two forms of per- ception is only apparent and is of short duration. The agree- able is nearly related to the charm that is purely physical, and is far removed from the earnestness of spiritual elevation. It soon becomes contaminated with ordinary material desires. The sublime, on the other hand, pointing to something greater than the mere external appearance of objects and ultimately referring to the greatness of God, carries the mind away int& the domain where mere form in its greatest and most impos- ing dimensions is nothingness, and where the contemplation of the eternal Creator suggests the insignificance and the ephem- eral nature of all things created. From this stand-point the world appears to be a valley of misery; nor can it be under- stood why or how a benign Creator has placed man in the midst of it. So the sense of antagonism, subdued for a while by the contemplation of form, comes back with full force, and torments anew. The sublime leads to the spiritual; the agree- able to the physical; and the two, as the spiritual and the physical themselves, become opposed and antagonistic. This reasoning, however, suggests the possibility of the exist- ence of a form in which the spiritual and the material may subsist in full interpenetration and in enduring harmony. A form which will unite the spiritual elevation of the sublime with the gaiety and attractiveness of the agreeable, and which will at last satisfy the soul, ever longing to be convinced of the unity and the oneness of the two domains between which it is thwarted and tortured. A point has now been reached from which the domain may be surveyed wherein dwells the beautiful. The beautiful itself has indeed been reached, but only as yet as mans inner intui- tion, as a postulate of his nature which is still seeking an outer form in which it may find rest and satisfaction. THE BEAUTIFUL. The necessity of the beautiful, therefore, proceeds from many s inner nature; and its satisfaction can only be found in the world of external appearances. 1885.1 The Source of the Beaut~ful. 19 It might be supposed that nature and her every manifesta- tion would be beautiful; for every thing proceeds from the Creator, and the attributes of the Creator should be recognized in the whole and in all its parts. His power should be mani- fest everywhere, uniting harmoniously the spiritual and the material. But such is not this world. God has created a world of freedom, permeated by laws of existence which react and contradict, a world of antagonism and of conflict. Most created things are soulless and entirely dependent upon external laws. Not in them is to be found the desired harmony of soul and matter. Even the most attractive of them fail to satisfy. The lovely flowers, the ripening fruit, the gleaming gems, though they attract and please, at their best but excite the sense of the agreeable. Nor is this sense so excited free from a touch of sadness that such rich and lovely objects should be destitute of sentient spirit. If again nature be beheld in her greatness and in her entirety; if the expanding vault of Heaven be surveyed, the far-reaching productive earth, the outlines of never-ending mountain chains, the gleam of the boundless sea; the mind is elevated, but it is led away into the unending and finds no rest but in the thought of the greatness of the Creator. It again enters the domain of the sublime and is again subjected to the rules of the spiritual. The beautiful therefore, in a closer meaning of the word, is only to be found in those natural objects where the external appearance corresponds to an appropriate spirit. The spirit of God corresponds to, and can be limited by, no individual object. The Almighty can only be approached by the long- ings of the soul. The spirit which must correspond to an external appearance in order to produce beauty must be less universal,must be the spirit of the particular appearance itself. It follows that only the living body in which the in- dwelling soul fully appears and in which appearance is filled with the indwelling soul can make claim to true beauty. A spirit is not limited to time or place, but is always the same though its manifestations be various; so is life in its relations to .the body. Each part of the body seems independent; yet all parts are one. The same life lives in every part; each part 20 The Source of the Beautiful. [Jan., is essential to the whole and the whole consists oL its parts. Between the whole and the parts there is constant reaction which has neither beginning nor end. The body of the living man originates with his soul, at least with its appearance in this world, and grows together with it in the fullest harmony. Man therefore, better than any other creature, is the object to give the impression of the beautifuL The brute lacks spiritual freedom and independence; it is too much controlled by outside and sensual appetites to be of itself beautiful. Man, however, in all his conditions and relations is truly beautiful. His body appears as the perfected expression of his soul; his life in its activities and its sufferings, as the essence of his spirit; and finally, the delicate expression of his feelings, the shout of joy and the cry of pain, as the harmo- nious outward appearing of his disposition. Man is an appear- ance which is filled with spirit and expresses soul. The discovery is soon made, however, that all men do not make the same agreeable impression but only those exceptional few who, sound in mind and body, are free from inherited flaws and have escaped accidental injuries. But the closer con- templation of these rare and heroic personages will show that even in them we have been deceived. If the first impression be followed and a deeper view be obtained of these apparently beautiful objects, even here will the original discrepancy and contradiction of things become apparent. It seems as if the soul took a position in opposition to the beauty of the body. Instead of appearing in harmony with this beauty it assumes a superiority. If the soul be permitted to absorb attention, the worthy soul will excite reverence, friendship, love; and the unxvorthy sonl will beget hostility or anger. In either case the sentiment excited will be far away from the simple pleasure derived from observing beautiful appearances. If the effort be made to withdraw attention from this view of the soul by directing it to the inspection of the actualities of life; then the body, with its weakness and its decay, will quickly disen- chant; and instead of the sense of beauty being excited, the mind will be led to the contemplation of the inevitable end of all things human. But no better result, on the other hand, if hi the contemplation of the actualities of life the soul be regarded by itself and away from the body for it will appear 1885.] The Source of the Beautiful. 21 to be only the fleeting and deceptive shadow of the living man. The deeds of men may still give pleasure, the coherence of his relations, the impression of his acts on the world that sur- rounds him. But even here close examination leads to disap- pointinent. Kot only do weaknesses and passions deface the beantiful picture, bnt the traces of an outer and inharmonious necessity and accident are all about. Purpose is not followed by execution, deeds are not related to resolves; and again dis- cord and contradiction make their presence felt. Actual appearances, therefore; though the noblest and the most complete, do not satisfy the sense of the beautiful. They produce a passing impression of the beautiful; they feed taste and sharpen desire, but they do not satisfy. Actual beauty does not exist in the domain of the actual. The direction is given but the goal is not reached. There is movement towards the beautii~ul, but the hard conditions of the actual constantly interpose. That which is regarded as the beauty of the actual is only the result of a subjective sentiment which supplies deficiences and overlooks defects. Beauty, therefore, is not to be found in actual things; and if man would satisfy his sense of the beautiful he must resort to his own activities. He is of necessity led to art. It has been argued against this view that it is a foolish presumption on the part of man to place himself above the Creator, to claim to be able to produce more excellently than has been created. But the work of art, beauty in fact, does not claim to be better than the actual but something different from it. If the actual be not beautiful; so, on the other hand, the beautiful is not actual. It lacks both the activity and the reality of the actual. Though a physical appearance and, therefore, simple and inde- pendent as should be all manifestations of mind, it has neither the substance nor the active power of the actual. It has no connection with the great chain of causes and effects. It is in no way related to the manifold materials or to the active prin- ciples of real things. In comparison with tIme actual it is inert and useless. There is a side shadow to the beautiful manifest- ing itself in the sensitive dispositions of artists, and often imparting to their works a gentle but a perceptible tinge of sadness. There is a mental activity which is evidence of the exist- 22 The Source of the Beautiful. [Jan., ence of a power drawing man to this unsubstantial beauty. This activity is phantasy, the exciting and constructing force of the innermost sensibilities; the enchanting sorceress who causes the miiids fleeting fancies to appear to it as independent creations; the offspring of Zens, as the poets call it, his dearest and most favored child. Phantasys gentlest and most inno- cent excitations give an idea of the vivifying power of beanty; and the pleasure derived from them is all the more delightful becanse of the consciousness. that the forms which phantasy presents are not real things but only the products of our own imagination. When children in sport imitate the acts of their elders they know full well that there is no reality in what they do. They know that nothing is drunk from the empty cups; that the dolls do not live; that their companion in harness is no real horse. IBut it is in the creating and in the accepting of the deception that the charm exists; a charm; too, which re~choes through all later years. These same sensibilities are the source of the pleasure derived from dreams and reveries; when things great and small, gay and sad, are combined and bewitched. To summon forth shadows into reality and to tnrn the real back into shadow, are the acts that give pleasure. Bnt phantasy when left entirely to herself is not sure to lead to beauty. Destitute of soul and of power of choice, it may mislead and plunge us into aching voids, or force us to the ugly and the repugnant. It dazzles, deceives and juggles till we are ready to flee from our very selves, and staggerin gwe cling anew to the real for rest and reason. When man, there- fore, finds that the beautiful does not exist in nature, nor does his own phantasy furnish it, and that his longings are only to be satisfied by the works of his own hands, in other words by art, he naturally and immediately inquires what art is and what are his relations to it. Every work of mans hands is suggestive of beauty; for every work is a natural material moulded by thought, and the thought and the matter appear to a certain extent in harmony. The material itself, however, is not suggestive of the uses to which it is put; it even opposes itself to the thought which would fashion it. As a result the works of mans hands are less apt to be harmonious than the creations of nature. In mans work the purpose controls, and the pnrpose interferes 1885.1 like Source of the BeautVul. 23 with the production of beauty. The purpose may not control the entire work in all its parts. A variety of forms may be given to parts, and even to the whole, without imparing utility. The curves of a vase or the lines of its handles may be varied without diminishing capacity. In tracing such lines as the lines of a vase, the artificer fol- lows his own fancy, or it may be that the material itself suggests the pattern; just as human conduct is often con- trolled by passing taste or by the caprice of a moment. But such manifestations of unconscious grace are not worthy of the name of beauty. Accident as well as utility is opposed to the really beautiful. The true work of art, therefore, can only be produced by a conscious intent; but this consciousness must be as far removed from a deliberate purpose as it is from the triviality of accident. This seems a contradiction; as consciousness in work presupposes, apparently, matured plan and deliberate purpose. Yet, in fact, a deliberate intention and attempt on the part of the artist to represent to himself or to others abstract beauty, or the ideal in its highest possible development, could but result in the destruction of beauty. This very attempt, though pure and noble, has the fatal fault of a deliberate purpose which would strip from the work the bloom of pure and free beauty. The artist, therefore, in every stage of his work must be conscious; but united to his consciousness there must be a spontaneous and natural ingen- uousness. As the longing for beauty has its birth in the soul, but is nourished and developed by nature, so representations of beauty are representations of nature ennobled and purified by the genial play of phautasy. The artistic conception, born of the spirit and fed by nature, becomes clearer and stronger till with a force that seems spontaneous it selects and grasps the proper material for manifestation. Phantasy, therefore, but instructed and limited by the actual, is the secret workmaster of art. The artists inspiration is not the beautiful, but nature and those particular forms in nature which to him are repre- sentations of the beautiful. The desire to incorporate repre- sentations of beauty is not an intent, but proceeds from the love and joy excited by the natural objects contemplated. IMaterial and method will be selected with care, but that care 24 Ike SoureKe of the Beaut~ful. [Jan., will be in accord with the object exciting the inspiration, and will not be governed by any independent intention of produc- ing the abstract beautiful. The work of art is indeed the pro- duct of impulse; but of the purest and most ~piritual impulse, in which the activities of the mind are as apparent as is a pas- sionate and mastering love of nature. And the productions of this impulse are the more noble, the more pure is the love of natnre, the more unselfish the mental activity. It is evident that aft-activity must be manifold. The thing represented is single and limited; the thought that corres- ponds to it, and which may not overstep its limits, must consequently be limited also, and everything that is limited must exist in numbersGod alone is single. The idea of the beautiful was long confounded with the idea of the finished, the complete. This led to the notion that one ultimate beau- tiful would be found and that all others would disappear. Although beauty, as the exclusion of ugliness, and beauty as the goal of hnman conduct, may convey the idea of unity; beauty itself cannot exist apart from an object, and must be as various as is the capacity of objects to be beautiful. The most complete union of the spiritual with single appearances presupposes individuality; that is, not only the condition of the highest and most indissoluble interpenetration of mind and matter, but the preservation of independence and of individual attributes. Variety in the appearance of beau- tiful objects is not therefore accidental, but results from the nature itself of the beautifuL It is only by reason of its indi- viduality, and of its exclusiveness in reference to other appear- ances, that the work of aft is beautiful. Finally, this variety secures the artist from the destructive domination of a single plan. As beauty is manifold he may surrender himself to its influence without thought or fear; he may follow wherever his fancy leads and give himself up fully and freely to its guidance. He knows that every thought may snggest a form, and that every form may carry a spiritual meaning. And so the work of art takes birth in his mind. There are no fixed rules to mar or check its growth. It grows in the youthful grace of thoughtless activity. It is full of hope at its birth and develops in clearness and in manly earnestness. 1885.] The State8 General of France. 25 ARTICLE 111.THE STATES GENERAL OF FRANCE. II. THE CONSTITUTION OF THE STATES GENERAL. THE principle which underlay the activity and influence of the States General was the current maxim, derived from Feu- dalism, that no tax could be levied upon the subjects of the king without their consent. As the monarchy gradually increased in power and was constantly engaged in long and expensive wars, the revenues of the royal domain became more and more inadequate to furnish the means required. When the army clamored for pay or new forces were to be raised or heavy ransom to be paid, or when in some other way the king was compelled to face a financial emergency, there was only one course open to him. He mnst appeal to the nation, as its protector, for aid. Specious pretexts for conven- ing the States General were from time to time put forth; yet in almost every case the real reason for the meeting was the need of the Crown for money. As a rule the monarchy convoked the assembly of the nation only when forced by dire necessity to an extreme measure. In consequence the States General several times had it at their mercy. More thami once the royal authority stood before them trembling and abashed, and the supreme power was in their hands. Yet the advantages thus gained were fruitless to the nation. For reasons hereafter to be pointed out, the great representative body of the French wasted its opportunities and sank into decline. It never established the right to meet at regular intervals, nor without the royal sanction. It could not therefore attain to a fixed constitution, and it never developed a regular code of parliamentary procedure. Finally, wheedled by the Court into giving up its very reason of being, the right to authorize and direct the expenditure of the nations funds, it sank out of sight and the monarchy had undisputed sway. The history of the States General begins with the year 1302 and ends with 1614. It falls naturally into two periods, the first extending from 1302 to 1439, the second from 1439 t

1885.] The State8 General of France. 25 ARTICLE 111.THE STATES GENERAL OF FRANCE. II. THE CONSTITUTION OF THE STATES GENERAL. THE principle which underlay the activity and influence of the States General was the current maxim, derived from Feu- dalism, that no tax could be levied upon the subjects of the king without their consent. As the monarchy gradually increased in power and was constantly engaged in long and expensive wars, the revenues of the royal domain became more and more inadequate to furnish the means required. When the army clamored for pay or new forces were to be raised or heavy ransom to be paid, or when in some other way the king was compelled to face a financial emergency, there was only one course open to him. He mnst appeal to the nation, as its protector, for aid. Specious pretexts for conven- ing the States General were from time to time put forth; yet in almost every case the real reason for the meeting was the need of the Crown for money. As a rule the monarchy convoked the assembly of the nation only when forced by dire necessity to an extreme measure. In consequence the States General several times had it at their mercy. More thami once the royal authority stood before them trembling and abashed, and the supreme power was in their hands. Yet the advantages thus gained were fruitless to the nation. For reasons hereafter to be pointed out, the great representative body of the French wasted its opportunities and sank into decline. It never established the right to meet at regular intervals, nor without the royal sanction. It could not therefore attain to a fixed constitution, and it never developed a regular code of parliamentary procedure. Finally, wheedled by the Court into giving up its very reason of being, the right to authorize and direct the expenditure of the nations funds, it sank out of sight and the monarchy had undisputed sway. The history of the States General begins with the year 1302 and ends with 1614. It falls naturally into two periods, the first extending from 1302 to 1439, the second from 1439 t 26 f/ike State8 General of France. [Jan., 1614. During the first period the assembly kept well in view the principle on which its existence depended and its authority was based. For the most part it maintained an alliance with the monarchy, on the one hand against the traditions and insti- tutions of Feudalism, on the other against the temporal assumptions of the Papacy. Meetings were frequent, the activity of deputies great, the influence upon the affairs of the nation often direct and salutary. But the turning-point came in 1439, when the States General authorized Charles VII. to establish a standing army, and to support it by means of a regular tax, to be assessed and collected yearly without further intervention of the nation. The measure was one of momentous significance. Previous to this time war had been carried on in accordance with the feudal plan. Whenever there was an appeal to arms the people, like the retainers of the feudal lords, marched forth to meet the foe; after the danger was over they returned to their customary pursuits. With the organization of the standing army the monarchy, having a body of disciplined troops always at its command, gained a permanent advantage over Feudalism and rose rapidly to the first place in the state. Thus the establishment of the standing army changed the course not merely of French but of European politics. But further than this, in France it indi- rectly struck the death-blow to national liberties. For with the precedent once established that the Crown could collect a tax without the authorization of the States General, unscrupu- lous rulers found many ways by which the privilege could be extended and imposts levied regardless of the murmurs of the people. The successors of Charles VII. carried further and further the point which he gained from the assembly of the estates, till finally the nation had no voice whatever in deter- mining its tribute to royalty or in anything else. After 1439 the States General met less and less frequently. They had sunk to the level of a purely advisory body, with no real pow- ers, convened by the Court as a convenient means of furthering its interests, either by special grants of money or by the sanction of measures for which it was interested in having the nations full support. During the sixteenth century there were only 4six me~tings. Finally in 1614 they were dissolved by the 188~i.] The State8 Gen& ral of France. 27 Crown in the midst of uproar, not to be assembled again till 1789. Then the pent-np impulses of the national life burst forth. The third estate took matters into its own hands. The Constituent Assembly, which sought to gather about itself the traditions of the States General, gained the supreme power, and the government of France was revolutionized. The career of the States General properly closes with the year I 614.* At no time in the history of the States General was there formulated any authorized system of rules regulating their convocation, membership, or modes of procedure. The mon- archy, desirous of keeping them under control, left everything about their constitution as indefinite as possible, while the assembly itself never seems to have possessed either the una- nimity and forethought to agree upon a series of regulations fixing its make-up and powers, or any means of enforcing the provisions suggested by it to the king. Nevertheless in the course of time there was developed a body of usages, or cus- toms, from which there was rarely any important deviation. These, so far as they concern the constitution of the States General, may best be considered under three heads, convocation, composition, and organization. I. THE CONVOCATION OF THE STATES GENERAL. In treating of the preliminaries to a meeting of the States General two topics demand particular attention, the Letters of Convocation and the Elective System. When for any reason it was decided to have a meeting of the States General, letters of convocation were issued by the Court. No other power ever had the right to summon the deputies. An attempt on the part of the nation to deliberate even regard- * For a full account of the history of the States General, consult Picot, Histoire des I~tats G~n~mraux de 1355 ~ 1614, 4 vols., Paris, 1872; Desjardins, Etats G6n6raux, Paris, 1871; Thibaudeau, list. des Etats G~n~raux, 2 vols., Paris, 1845; Rathery, Hist. des ~tats G6n~raux, Paris, 1846; Hervien, Recherches sur les premiers Etat G~n6raux,, Paris, 1879; also the histories of France by Henri Martin, Lavall~e Michelet, Durney, Dareste, Kitchin; Stephens Lectures on the Hist. of France; the works of Thierry, Guizot; Perrens, La D~mocratie en France au Moyen kge; M~rilhou, Les Parlements de France; Le Bas, Diet. Encyclop6dique; the Documents In~dits; etc. etc. 28 The State8 General of France. [Jam, ing its own interests, withont the royal authorization, would have been thought rebellious. Whether the Court was forced to announce a meeting of the estates or did so of its own free will, could make no difference; no letter of convocation was valid unless signed by one who represented the authority of the Crown. Usually the king himself issued the document~ but in case the throne was vacant the signature of the regent sufficed. Thus in 1317 Philip as regent convened the assembly that formulated the Salic law of Succession, while in the minority of Louis XIII. the States General of 1614 were convoked by Marie de M~dici. But the king of Kavarre contested the legality of the meeting of 1593, on the ground that the Duke of Mayenne, who appointed it, although Lieu- tenant-General of the Realm by the authority and power of the League, did not properly represent the Crown. The letter of convocation usually covered live points, stated with more or less clearness: 1. The explanation of the rea~oms for the meetinq.Consid- ering that the sole reason was in most cases lack of funds in the treasury, it is interesting to note how honeyed the phrases are and how fair in appearance are the pleas presented. The Court asks its good subjects for advice on questions of reforms in administration, peace and war, religion, regency, and the like. The real matter is often carefully kept out of sight, or only hinted at. Not infrequently in this part of the letter there appears a line sounding declaration of the great love of the king for his people and his desire to make all prosperous and happy. Thus Henry III. in appointing the meetin~, at Blois in 1576 announced that he wished to hear the remou- strances, complaints and grievances of all afflicted, in order to give each such remedies as they all might require; . . . also to present our own opinion, and with them (the deputies) to form a good resolution on the means of providing for our State, and of acquitting the faith of the kings our predecessors and our own, as much as may be possible, to the relief of all our sub- jects. Such was the pretext with which the corrupt and treacherous Court brought the nation to council at the first States General at Blois! The duplicity and perfidy of the French kings is unsurpassed in the annals of kingeraft. 1885.1 [like State8 General of France. 29 2. De8ignation of the time and place of meeting.Since the States General never received a favorable answer in good faith to their oft-repeated desire for regnlar sessions, both time and place of meeting varied according to circnmstances. Paris, as the residence of the king and easy of access to all, at first thought would seem the best place in the realm for the national assembly; yet it was early fonnd that great disadvan- tages more than counterbalanced the advantages of that location. The Parisian municipal organization, with its enor- mous wealth for bribery and a howling mob that could be aroused at a moments notice, exerted an overwhelming influ- ence at the meetings held within its reach. The Court and the nation alike feared its power. It is not for slight rea- sons, says Bari~re, that in the old monarchy, under the Yalois, for example, the States General were held alternately in the different provincial cities. The ordinances which show the greatest influence of the assembly are not those ren- dered as a result of the meetings at Paris, but those of Blois, of Orleans, of Tours, of IRonen. Often the choice of a place was determined by certain circumstances. Towns exposed to the dangers of invasion or insurrection were avoided, while those most favorable to the Court were apt to be selected. The date appointed for the gathering of the deputies was generally put three to five months later than that of the letter of convocation, on account of the difficulties of traveling. Arthur Young, who has left a clearly drawn picture of France just before the ~evolution,in his time found the highways in a most deplorable state; we must suppose that they were in far worse condition three centuries earlier. In many sections, moreover, there were bands of robbers which made the roads unsafe, so that travelers were obliged to go strongly guarded and with great circumspection. Notwithstanding the liberal allowance of time, frequently several successive adjouruments were found necessary before the deputies were assembled in sufficient numbers to proceed to the transaction of business. Sometimes for reasons of state the Court thought best to change both time and place of meeting. 3. The mandate to the royal officere and the provincial qov- ernment8 about electione.llerein it was directed that meet- The States General of France. [Jan., ings be held throughout the realm for the electing of deputies, and in later times for the further purpose also of drawing up statements of grievances, or cahiers. The provis- ions in the letter of convocation regarding these matters were of the most general character. Sometimes a particular date was appointed for all the provincial elections; generally, how- ever, the different districts were left to their own will and convenience iu regard to this and all other details. 4. Statement qf the authority conferred upon the assembly. The purpose of the Court was always to appear to be giving more authority than it really did give to the representatives of the nation. It aimed to please and impress the people and thus to assure a flue large grant. For the most part little was directly said regarding the powers of the assembly, save that there would be granted perfect freedom in discussion and deliberation. 5. The promise of the Court to carry out the wishes of the assembly.In this there was usually manifest only further evi- dence of royal duplicity. It was intended simply to flatter and lead on the ever-trustful nation; behind it lay not the slightest intention of conceding any more than might be abso- lutely necessary. Like the opening statements of most of the letters it had its origin in time-serving expediency. Witness for example the closing words of the letter of Henry III. in convoking the second session at Blois. Speaking of the mat- ters to be submitted for deliberation he says, on all which things we intend a good and salutary resolution from which we shall never depart, of which we shall gladly take up the execution with such firmness, affection and perseverance that no consideration whatever shall ever be able to turn us from it. A little further on he assures the deputies of his good intentions in even stronger terms: We are very resolved to carry out such reforms and regulations as shall be found required and necessary to draw the kingdom from these straits, with the intention of omitting no point whatever of that which in so notable an assembly shall be by you discussed, passed upon and decided. Copies of the letter of convocation were distributed among all the bailiffs and senesehals, upon whom as royal officers 1885.] The States General of France. 31 devolved the duty of making known its contents and of super- intending the elections. Besides the general letter, special mandates were occasionally sent to particular communities or bailiwicks. As the sending of delegates to the States General was at first looked upon as a burden rather than a privilege, not infrequently a direct royal command was necessary to~ force a refractory town or district to elect representatives. Sometimes a special letter was forwarded to a district in order to prevent the election of certain men obnoxious to the Crown; the names of the persons deemed undesirable were either directly mentioned or clearly enough indicated by restrictions. On receiving letters of convocation, whether general or special, the royal officer drew up an abstract, or made copies of the original, which he dispatched for the clergy to the principal houses of the benefices, for the nobility to the proprietors of estates directly or to their financial representatives, on the principle that it was properly the benefice that made the ecclesiastic, the fief that made the nobles. An announce- ment was made to the third estate in accordance with the directions of the letter, which on this point were generally specific. The method usually enjoined was that the matter be presented in the public place of each town, after a crowd had been called together by the sound of a trumpet or the ringing of a bell. The elective system varied according to period, place, and circumstances. In the earlier time the clergy and the nobility attended the meetings of the States General in a body, and with them deputies from the good towns met. But at first by no means all or even a considerable number of the cities of France had the right to a representation there. Delegates were summoned only from those walled towns whose import- ance in a military or financial point of view made it the kings interest to court them, and from those which had become strong and prominent under the fostering care of royalty. Not till the time of Anne of Beaujean, in the reaction towards. popular liberties that followed the absolutism of Louis XI., was the right of delegation extended to all the cities of the realm. The inhabitants of the rural districts had no voice in the; elections till 1576, when in certain districts they were called to 32 like States General of France. [Jan., unite with the burghers to choose deputies of the third estate for the first States General of Blois. As a result of the con- fusion and difficulty then experienced, the Court added six new towns to those already possessing the right of suffrage. Theoretically the people of the rural districts were represented by the nobility on whose lands they lived. The condition of the agricultural class had been only apparently improved by the decline of feudalism and the growth of peasant proprietor- ship; in reality it remained subject to feudal conditions till the IRevolution. It was trodden under foot by those from whom it should have received protection and the means of enlightenment, the selfish and short-sighted aristocrats. In 1614, as in the preceding centuries, it still had no voice of its own in the nations assembly. Thus in France the elective portion of the inhabitants was only a fraction of the whole population. The highest repre- sentative body, as in England, contained two distinct elements a privileged, corn prising the clergy and the nobility, who sat by virtue of the holding of land, and represented the old feudal court and council; and an unprivileged, consisting of deputies from the towns. As the kingdom increased in extent of territory it was found that a full attendance of the higher orders with all the deputies that must be summoned from the towns made an unwieldy and unmanageable assein- bly, involving, moreover, an enormous expenditure of time and money. The expedient of provincial representation for each of the three orders was adopted. In the course of time the realm came to be divided up into clearly defined judicial and administrative districts, called bailliaqes (bailiwicks), each of which had a judge and other officers appointed by the king, and a court subject only to appeal to the parliament. These now became the basis of elective provisions; from each baili- wick deputies representing the clergy, the nobility, and the third estate were sent to the States General. In the third estate there were necessarily two elections, one in the cities of the bailiwick to choose electors, another of all the electors of the bailiwick to elect representatives. The privileged orders generally held but one. The preparatory elections of the third estate usually took 1885.1 like States General of France. 33 place on Mondays, and were preceded by the ringing of a bell. At the sound of this the townsfolk gathered in the town hail or the open square that served for a market-place. A royal officer, judicial or financial, or the notary of the place, pre- sided. After the purpose of the meeting had been duly an- nounced, the delegates to the elective convention of the baili- wick, generally two in number from each town, were chosen viva voce. The townspeople then brought forward all their grievances and requests, which were to be carried by the dele- gates to the elective assembly and there embodied in the gen- eral cahier of the bailiwick. Many of the bailiwicks were themselves divided into judicial districts or sub-bailiwicks. In these there were two steps in the choice of electors; first, the towns sent delegates and statements of grievances to a conven- tion of the sub-bailiwick; then, the sub-bailiwick to the elective assembly of the bailiwick. On a day previously appointed, the clergy and the nobility if the bailiwick met at the principal city, and at the same time the electors, from towns directly or from sub-bailiwicks, assem- bled. The three orders proceeded separately to elect their rep- resentatives and draw up their cahiers. Only once, so far as is known, there was such a fusion of interests that in most of the bailiwicks the three estates made their choice together. This happened at the elections to the States General at Tours, in 1484, and the results were clearly to be seen in the remarkable harmony and unanimity of the session; for the ecelesiastics, the nobles and the common folk who came to Tours were not representatives exclusively of the clergy, the nobility, or the third estate; they united in their persons a triple commission.~~ The method of voting at the elections is not clear; probably it varied according to circumstances. At least it is known that sometimes the delegates responded with the voice as their names were called by the secretary; but at the election to the States General of 1588 the Hngu enots complained that the voting was done by the voice and not in the customary way, by ballot, so that they were greatly overawed and prevented from exercising their full right by the intimidation of their opponents. Obviously the elective system sketched above could not fail voL. viii. 3 34 [Jan.,~ like State8 General of France. to undergo modification, when by reason of size or political importance a single city formed by itself a judicial district of the first degree, thus taking the rank of a bailiwick. Such was the case with Paris, La IRochelle, and Marseilles. In the two last the rights of representation belonging to town and bailiwick were united, and the cities had each but a single vote in the States General. At Paris, however, a separation was maintained. Paris, therefore, had two sets of deputies, and two votes, one as city, the other as judicial and administrative district (pr6v6t~). Accordingly she had two distinct electoral conventions, over one of which the mayor or some civil magis- trate of importance presided, while the highest resident rep- resentative of the court conducted the other. In the choosing of delegates to the electoral conventions no uniform mode was followed. Sometimes the sub-divisions of the ward sent each two delg~tes to a general meeting, where four delegates to rep- resent the ward were elected. Not infrequently, however, the ward officers themselves arbitrarily chose the electors, sending to the elective assembly of the city a certain number of the notable men of their quarter, taken ordinarily half from among the magistrates or officers, half from among the mer- chants or other citizens. There were other variations which it is not necessary to notice. In several of the laro~er cities besides Pins and in many of the bailiwicks the regular mode of choosing delegates and rep- resentatives was not adhered to, and more complex processes were in vogue. Sir James Stephen, with good reason, thinks that the forms in use in the ancient Greek and Roman cities of Norbonnese Gaul for the election of civic officers were thence transferred to the French municipalities, and were borrowed from these by the bailiwicks when it became necessary to elect deputies to the States General, for the love of subtle and refined schemes of polity, and especially of municipal polity, was one of the many analogies between the Greek and the French characters. He cites for illustration the mode adopted in the city of P6ronne for electing the nmayor, aldermen, and board of audit. First, each of the twelve guilds elected two delegates; the twenty-four delegates then chose ten, these nominated another ten, and the twenty associated with them.~ 1885] The States General of France. 35 selves tell more. The thirty chose the mayor and the alder- men, who, thus elected, designated six counsellors; to these six more counsellors were added through the selection of the masters of the gnilds. The twelve counsellors made up the board of audit. While no routine so complicated as this ever preceded the sending of deputies to the States General, there is no doubt that often in the cities the delegates to the elective convention of the bailiwick were chosen not directly, but by delegates from the guilds, with no slight complexity of forms. Regarding eligibility to the position of deputy, little is known; at any rate, there were few restrictions. It is certain that the three orders were not obliged each to send representa- tives of its own rank, but in this respect at least had the great- est freedom of choice. Not infrequently a noble or ecclesiastic was sent as deputy by the third estate. The number of depu- ties to be returned by each bailiwick was not fixed by ~eneral law but specially designated in each letter of convocation. Generally each bailiwick was directed to send thrce represem tatives, one for each order; but occasionally, as in the election to the States General of 15~3O, the electors were left free to send a greater number if they wished to do so. In forming the eneral cahiers of the bailiwick use was made of all the cahiers that had been handed in from towns or sub-bailiwicks; and opportunity also was given for any one who had any com- plaint or suggestion to present it, with the encouragement, that if it were well founded, it would be incorporated with the rest. For the convenience of those having grievances that had not found expression in the regnlar way, on election days a chest with three openings and three locks for the three orders was placed at the door of the hail where the working over of the cahiers was going on. At Paris a table in the great hall of the Hdtel-de-Yille, and at Lyons a throne were used for the same purpose. Thus the troubles of even the poorest and the weak~ est might be voiced. 36 The State8 General of France. [Jan., II. THE COMPOSITION OF THE STATES GENERAL. The regular membership of the States General properly com- prised the representatives of the clergy, the nobility, and the third estate. But owing to the relation existing between the assembly and the Court, a few persons not deputies had the right to be present during either the whole or a part of each session. Some enjoyed this privilege by reason of rank, some by reason of functions. To the one class belonged the king or the regent, the queen, the princes of the blood, and the great officers of the crown; to the other, the chancellor, the secreta- ries of state, the members of the Privy Council and of the Royal Council. The former appeared only at the opening and closing of the session, and on special occasions, by their presence aiming to make manifest the royal authority and to impress a wholesome awe of it, and at the same time to add prestige to the assembly. The latter kept up constant communication between the Court and the sessions, carrying propositions or responses from the king, meeting with the deputies or committees from their num- ber for discussion, and aiding in the redaction oC the cahiers. In this the chancellor figured most prominently. He was often present at the meetings as the mouthpiece of the govern- ment, answering questions a~nd offering advice, bnt more often making requests and trying to influence the deputies to act according to the wishes of the Court. In a preceding article it was indicated how in the decline of Feudalism the whole European society was broken up into three sharply divided orders, the three estates. In France, therefore, this division was nothing local or accidental. It was grounded in the very nature of things, and formed one of the determinative elements in politics. In the Provincial States the distinction between the three orders was carefully maintained; in the States General it inevitably appeared. However disas- trous these differences of rank were to the best interests of the French nation, it was not possible to convene a national assem- bly except by orders. The growth of a truly national spirit among the French was very slow. The clergy in France had everywhere the precedence over the other two orders. This state of things, so foreign to our 1885.1 The States General of France. 37 modern ideas, was a heritage of the middle ages, when the Church was the most stable element in European society. In the feudal court and council the ecelesiastics sat not because of their priestly office bnt because of their proprietary rights as holding land in feudal tenure, either personally as bishop or collectively as chapter. In the extent of landed property they were not at all behind the lay aristocracy, and hence according to feudal principles stood politically on the same footing. Bnt farther than this, they represented both the spiritual authority of the Church, and the temporal assumptions of the Papacy. Through the former they claimed to hold in their hands the eternal welfare of all, whether serfs or princes for weal or woe, gaining thus a vast though intangible influence. By virtue of the latter they held themselves superior even to rulers, who openly flattered but secretly feared them. This high prestige of the clergy continued till the Revolution; not infrequently they filled the most important and honorable offices in the government. The influence of the clergy in the States General, however, was not as great as might have been expected from their supe- rior prestige. In making grants of money for the needs of the realm they were more generous than the nobility; for being a privileged order they would not ~be subjected to a tax as a duty, but voted money as a free gift. But in matters of policy they were often wavering and undecided, being ever moved by two opposing tendencies, loyalty to the King or nation and loyalty to the Pope. Self-interest also led them to favor him to whom they owed the most; for sometimes the Pope named candidates for episcopal investiture, sometimes the king. From the time of St. Louis till the council of Trent the clergy urged with considerable persistency the observance of the Pragmatic Sanction; and at the later meetings of the States General they pressed earnestly upon the government the recog- nition and adoption of the Tridentine decrees. Kevertheless, though Louis XIII. and his successors by a firm and consistent policy did much to fix the relations between King and Pope, these remained in many respects unsettled till the Revolution. Consequently on a large range of questions that came before the States General the attitude of the clergy was necessarily vacillating. 38 like State8 General of France. [Jan., But on one point, be it said to their credit, the clergy rarely wavered. While there was always among them a minority hold- ing radical ultramontane views, as a body they were devoted to national as opposed to either local or foreign interests. They aided the monarchy in its efforts curb the turbulence of the feudal lords, and took the part of peacemaker between the nobility and the third estate. Even in the stormy sessions during the period of the iReformation, the moderate or nation- alistic element of the Catholic party in the end prevailed. On the whole, the influence of the clergy throubh the States Gen- eral upon the legislation and government of France was greater than that of the nobility, but second to that of the third estate. While the measures they advocated were as a rule less narrow and selfish than those of the former, they were far less practi- cal than those of the latter. They sought indeed the adoption of many measures calculated to benefit simply their own ordcr; but while they showed less sagacity than the third estate, they were far less corrupt and arrogant than the nobility. Of the three orders the nobility stood second in dignity, but last in importance, in the States General. Basing its claim to participation in the government on blood and service, it des- pised learning and looked with contempt on those without rank, whatever their merits. In the feudal courts, as we have seen, barons were gradually replaced by the scribes, educated rot ur ?eP8. In the States General, as in the English Parliament, they always had a place, l)ut they formed a turbulent and un- manageable element. They devoted themselves almost entirely to getting or m~ intaining privileo~es for their own order ut- terly regardless of the interests of the whole. From the first meeting till the last, the plea of the nobles was for concessions, more and yet more concessions. In harmony with the spirit of Feudalism, believing themselves the rightful lords of the earth, they looked upon both King and commons as intruders upon their sacred rights. Their demands were not always the same but changed according to the state of society. At the earlier meetings they made continual outcry against the loss of ancient privileges, the breaking down of the time-honored ens- toins by which their standing was assured. For with the growth of the monarchy their power declined. Notwithstand 1885.] The States General of France. 39 ing the frantic efforts of the nobles and frequent reactions against the royal authority, the firm hand of the King hemmed them in more and more. Private wars were checked, then stopped, by the combined efforts of the Church and throne. The privileges of the chase were curtailed, and in many ways the nobles we~ e taught that others had rights to be respected. War had been the normal occupation of the nobility, its very life. For a time national wars seemed to take the place of pri- vate wars as furnishing a field of activity, bnt after a time peace began to be cultivated as never before, and the standing army replaced the old bar and arri~re-ban. Titled families moreover increased in number owing to the issning of patents of nobility by the crown, while the natural increase of many old families rendered the income from their estates inadequate for their support. With its occupation gone and failing resources, the nobility tried to win back thro~ gh the States General wh t it had lost bnt all in ;Tain. It gradually changed its attitude and tactics. Unable to shine any longer alone and attracted by the pomp and ceremony of the Court, it grouped itself about the king. Its youths became p. ges, its sires officers of state, in those positions where no effective work was expected and there was a salary, or at least opportunity for embezzlement, most ample. It formed the corrupt and corrupting retinue of royalty. The crown at first for prudential reasons encouraged the nobility to centre its interests about the throne and its splendor in the Court; afterwards it accepted the homage with the accompany- ing burdens as a necessary evil. The nobles now looked upon all the fine positions of the military or civil administration as belonging to themselves; and if these were not assigned to suit them,it was reckoned a cause of grievance; woe to the king that dared go outside their number in the choice of royal offi- cers! One of the most serious charges they brought against Louis XI. was that, passing by his natural associates, he gath- ered about him as advisers men of low birth. Notwithstanding the ignorance and narrow selfishness of tIme nobility as a class, even though with rare exceptions they possessed neither ability to originate useful measures nor incli- nation to urge on needful reforms, they ought to have carrie4 40 The States General of France. [Jan., far greater weight in the deliberations of the States General than they did. They might, they onght to have sat as a con- servative element, leaving innovations and radical reforms to originate elsewhere. Thus they would have held the balance of power, and while restraining all that was hurtful or inex- pedient they might have helped on all that was salutary in the measures proposed by the other two orders. Bnt they seemed incapable of intelligent liberal action npon national interests. They acted throughont on the principle aut Ca?sar aut nullus, either special privileges and concessions for their owu order or none at all for any. To the clergy they looked with some respect; bnt the deputies of the third estate they viewed with uncompromising hatred, as bold upstarts, their natural enemies. A coalition or even an agreement of the two secular orders on any important question was a thing well-nigh unheard of. The enmity increased with almost every meeting of the States General, and reached its climax in 1614. Regarding the origin and make-np of the third estate, the order whose representatives stood lowest in rank but first in importance in the States General, there has never been a unanimity of opinion. It sprang from at least two distinct sources, a fact that needs to be recognized in considering its place in the assembly of the nation. First the cities shook off the yoke of feudal power; later there was a gradual freeing of slaves on the estates of the Church, then on those of the kings, finally on those of the nobility. In France, as elsewhere, there appeared as a result two classes of unprivileged free pop- ulation, the burghers, or residents of towns, aud the inhabitants of the country. Because the latter had no direct representa- tion in the States General it has been commonly but erroneously taken for granted that the townsmen alone made up the third estate. These indeed through their representa- tives were brought into immediate relation with the govern- meut; but the peasant class exerted an indirect influence that ought by no means to be overlooked. From its ranks came a good proportion of the clergy, who remained in sympathy with the class that gave them birth and sought to alleviate its burdens. Not infrequently men from the rural districts gained the less important positions in the government. Ever 1885.1 like States General of France. 41 since the early days of feudalism, moreover, serfs and peasants had drifted into the cities, many of which made special provis- ions for them, and to which they brought new elements of power. For many reasons thus the country folk must be considered a part of the third estate; and yet without taking into account this fundamental distinction in the order many things will be found inexplicable, as for instance the entirely independent movements of city and country populations towards popular liberties in the fourteenth century. There was then a spirited uprising of townspeople under the leadership of Robert le Coq and I1~tienne Marcel; but the rebellion known as the Jacquerie was wholly confined to the peasants. But aside from the difference of origin, which led to signifi- cant results in the third estate, there were recognized and important distinctions of influence. These resulted from three things, the guild system, wealth, and the administration of justice. Of the first two little need be said. In every city there were always some guilds stronger than others, which gave to their members a sort of prestige, and at first took the lead in managing local affairs as well as in adjusting matters having to do with the general government. Of the burghers who were fortunate enough to become very wealthy a few passed into the ranks of the aristocracy. The buying of titles began as early as the reign of Louis IX., and the most strenuous exer- tions on the part of the old families could not prevent the kings from occasionally working this branch of revenue. But as those who thus sought to raise their social status were always treated with contempt by the class from which they sprung, and with disdain by the nobility, comparatively few of the opulent citizens attempted it, but contented themselves with giving their ambitions scope in local politics. In many cities the wealthy class, standing by itself, came eventually to surpass the guilds in political influence. The most important element of the third estate politically, however, was the judicial aristocracy, the nobl~& se de la robe. From the time of Philip VI. the lawyers formed a distinct class, that continually increased in numbers and influence. As clerks, then judges in the baronial courts, as judges in the kings courts, as circuit judges of the royal jurisdictions, and as 42 The States General of france. [Jan., agents of the crown in the collection of revennes, they became the repositories of great interests. Trained moreover in the IRoman law, with its imperialistic cast and maxims, they were everywhere devoted to the monarchy, to centralization and peace-enforcing anthority as opposed to feudal turbulence and isolation. The highest courts, the parliament of Paris, and the provincial parliaments, gradually came to be centres of great influence, and comprised in their membership the most famous men of the realm for learning and ability. Their members were exempt from taxation, and enjoyed other special immu- nities and privileges. The crown gave recognition to this higher order of the legal class, and at the same time added a new branch of revenue, by making the more important judge- ships transferable by inheritance, so that they could be kept in the same families generation after generation on payment of a fee whenever devised. Even the practice of selling the higher judicial offices was introduced and from time to time revived; these consequently were within the reach of compar- atively few. The prestige which attached to the Parliament of Paris as the outgrowth of the feudal council of the Duch~ of France, and to the other high courts as descendants of the great days of the old baronial jurisdictions, together with the influence they wielded in the affairs of the realm and the dis- tinctions allowed to them by the Crown, set off their members from the rest of the legal profession and gave rise to a veri- table legal aristocracy, to which there is hardly a parallel in history.* But the noble8se de la robe were few in number compared with the advocates and other members of the bar throughout the realm. Lawyers always formed a large proportion of the deputies of the third estate. Having the advantage of legal training, acquainted with existing laws and customs, patriotic as a rule and devoted to the interests of the order from which they sprun~, they did more than any other class of men to mold the policy of the States General, though the noblesse de * For a fuller account of the Noblesse de la robe, so called from the dress that characterized them, and the French lawyers in general, see Bardoux, Les L6gistes ; Forsyth, Hortensius the Advocate, ch. 7; Stephens Lectures on the Hist. of France, Sec. 7; Maine, Ancient Law, pp. 5965, on the French Lauyers. 1885.1 like States General of France. 43 la robe had a more direct influence with the Crown. The power of the lawyers to strike to the root of abuses, track out causes, suggest constitutional remedies, formulate a telling statement of points demanded, and form careful judgment on matters of policy, was supplemented by the financial knowl- edge of the merchant class, to which most of the remaining representatives of the third estate belonged. Both lawyers and merchants, moreover, brought to the assembly of the nation experience in municipal affairs, so that their suggestions were always practical and often adapted to meet the ends proposed, while those of the privileged orders were not infre- quently absurd beeause bsed upon a misapprehension of the real state of the case and ignorance of political methods. The chief weakness of the deputies of the third estate resulted from their lack of experience in national as distinguished from local affairs, and for this they were not responsible. For in a government the tendencies of which are toward abso- lutism, and in which the higher administrative offices are held as the rightful possession of the privileged orders, men of low rank have slight opportunity to rise by promotion in the state and thus gain the intimate knowledge of natiom 1 matters needful for a statesman. Even if by force of circumstances or extraordinary ability they succeed in reaching a high position, they are perforce for the most part admitted to a higher rank and no longer affiliated with the class from which they sprung. Notwithstanding the disadvantages under which the third estate labored, its influence in the States General far tran- scended that of the other two orders. This is not owing to the fact that its deputies seem to have been more numerous than those of either the clergy or the nobility at most of the meetings. It bore the most of the financial burdens; hence its careful merchants, trained in habits of economy and thrift, made constant and vigorous protests against the glaring corrup- tions in the administration of the finance. From its deputies came the firmest assertion of the rights of the nation against the encroachments of royalty, for they knew by experience what it was to be oppressed by superiors. They cried out against privileges, against disorders, and insecurity of life. They sought the means of education, the protection of indus 44 The States General of France. [Jan., try, the relief of commerce. Their body of requests often made up comprehensive systems of administration, proposing reforms that extended to every department of the government. From theni emanated nearly all those proposals which, sanctioned ~by the court, form the enduring monuments of the legislation of the States General. Their iniluence increased with every session. The act of the third estate in 1789, by which it virtually declared itself the nation, was a natural result of its previous career. It simply threw off the mask and became in appearance what, without knowledge of the fact, it had always been in reality, the determinative element in the assembly of the nation, the real power in the state. Besides the representatives of the three orders, delegates from other bodies occasionally had the right to a seat in the States General and engaged in the discussions as if they were deputies. The University of Paris was directly represented at four sessions. Tn 141 2 it was invited by the third estate to aid in voicing grievances before the Court. Its deputation, accom- panied by one from the States General, being admitted to an audience with the king, was singularly outspoken and earnest in its protests against abuses and its suggestions of reform. In 1576, 1588 and 1614, the deputies from the University took part in the deliberations, but were not so prominent as in the session of 1412. On none of these occasions did they sit apart as a body distinct from the three orders; being ecclesiastics, they were numbered with the clergy. They could not present a separate cahier; the remonstrances of the University were merged with those of the clergy of the city of Paris. In sev- eral provinces, however, the local universities were permitted to send deputies to the Provincial States on the ground of being corporate bodies. The Parliament of Paris not infre- quently sent a deputation to the States General. Its delegates, though they could not vote, sometimes took part in the delib- erations. The relation between the Parliament and the Assem- bly, however, is so complicated and at the same time so import- ant, that it must be reserved for fuller discussion in another article. In addition to the payment of their traveling expenses the deputies of the three orders received remuneration for their 1885.] The State8 General of France. 45 time and services. This seems to have varied according to circumstances; and there is much uncertainty about the whole matter. At the old assemblies of March and May, the prince out of his own bounty provided for the great people, while the humbler folk brought provisions enough with them to last during their stay. But when meetings of the States General came to be called, attendance, as we have seen, was esteemed a burden, and from the beginning arrangements were made for the salary of deputies. There is still extant a letter of Philip IV., dated May 6, 1302, in which he directs the senesehal of Beau- caire to cause the inhabitants of the town of Bagnols to remun- erate its deputies sent to Tours. The difficulties and dangers of traveling were so great and the length of the session so uncertain a matter, that a liberal stipend was allowed to those who attended. It was graded according to the rank of the deputy. In 1560 the pay of the clergy alone ranged from eight to twenty-five livre8 per day. The salary of ~1eputies was raised by the royal officers, on special edict of the Crown. Sometimes the cities paid their deputies in advance, looking to the state treasury for reim- bursement. In such cases frequently difficulty was experi- enced before a satisfactory settlement was obtained; for the Crown was never known to meet obligations of Ihat kind till it was obliged to. It is not unlikely that on some occasions the third estate paid both its own deputies and those of the clergy and the nobility as well. At least in 1484 the two privileged orders claimed as their right the taxing of the third estate for the remuneration of their representatives. The principal argu- ment employed well illustrates current ideas of the time about the place and office of the three orders in the state. Each has its r6le, declared Phillippe de Poitiers; the church to pray, the nobility to fight, the third estate to pay; and all this in the common interest. In 1560, however, each order pro- vided for the salary of its deputies by a special fax. Although no law on the subject was enacted, the precedent then estab- lished, was afterwards, so far as is known, followed without exception. Very few details about the amounts paid and kin- dred matters have come down to us. But the weight of the tax upon the people, always overwhelmed with exactions, had 46 The States General of Trance. [Jan., no slight influence in undermining the prestige of the States General, and hastening their decline. Even under the impulse of public spirit sometimes manifested at the election of depu- ties the qnestion of funds was always lurking and tended to check enthusiasm. An intelligent appreciation of the office and mission of the assembly never became so widespread that the sending of delegates was looked upon as any other than a disagreeable duty. Towns often refused to be represented, on the plea of expense alone. In this the monarchy found excuse for not convening the States General more often. Thus Charles YII., in 1441, when urged to convoke the estates of the realm, declared that he did not wish to place an additional burden upon the people already weighed down with imposts. Often the results of the session were so intangible that the country at large perceived no outcome save an increase of taxes, and it is not to be wondered t that there was murmur- ing. While the Constituent Assembly was in session the objection was urged wit ha good deal of acrimony that the deputies were living at the expense of the people, and spend- ing their time in fruitless discussion. III. THE ORGANiZATIoN OF TIlE STATES GENERAL. An assenibly of the estates of the realm had no legal exist- ence until after a formal opening by the Crown. Nevertheless as sodn as the depnties arrived in sufficient numbers they met by orders and formed a preliminary organization. Lists of deputies were made out, commissions verified, and certain officers of the order, as the presidents, the secretaries, and the orators, were elected. In these meetings of the orders voting was done by bailiwicks. By courtesy, and according to a cus- tom early established, the president of the third estate was usually the pre~vat des marchands of the city of Paris. After the estates had thus completed their internal organization the oath of state was administered. The president from his raised seat pronounced the formula, the deputies, standing, with uplifted hands repeated it after him. At these prelim- inary meetings took place the discussion of many trifling questions of ceremonial upon which, especially in later sessions so much time was wasted. 1885.1 The State8 General of France. 47 The evening preceding the formal opening the depnties in a body celebrated mass. On the following day at the hour appointed by the Court they met at the door of the hail in which the session was to be held, and were shown to their seats in the order of the departments (governments) from which they came, those of each department being arranged according to bailiwicks. The king then entered, seatin~ himself npon an elevated throne. The members of the royal family and the great officers of the realm followed, taking seats jnst below him, vet on a platform raised above the benches of the depu- ties. The kind was the first to speak, usually by way of greeting expressing his deep affection for his subjects and his great desire to satisfy all; there were fine promises, too, as in the letters of convocation, about the care and fidelity with which the snggestions of the estates should be carried out. The chancellor followed the remarks of the king 4th a more extended address, showing the object of the meetin& ~ud repeating with explanations the statements of the letter of convocation abont the po~ ~ers conferred on the assembly. Sometimes he even laid down the order of business and pre- scribed the form of the cahiers. lie generally closed with an exhortation to the deputies to deliberate with the greatest freedom, to counsel for the good of all, and to be harmonious with one another. Then, motioning toward the king, he pro- nounced the formula, The king gives you permission to assemble. The orators of the three orders responded, that of the clergy speaking first, that of the third estate last. At first it appears that all three gave their ~ddresses on their knees;. but later the orators of the privileged orders were permitted to speak standing, and finally the same Ight was extended to the orator of the third estate. Afte1 these speeche? were fin- ished the chancellor for the king gave the announcement, at least in later times, that the deputies might meet to form the cahiers and at length to present them, and that His Majesty would give favorable response.~~ The mode of opening a session described was not always followed. Of course when the throne was vacant the regent took the place of the king in the ceremony. In 1412 the addresses of response were made by provinces, in 1467 by 48 The States General of France. [Jan., cities, and in 1468 by a single orator, from the third estate. In 1560 the orders had no opening meeting in common bnt received the Court while sitting separately, a course fatal to the harmony of the entire session. In entering upon the deliberations of the session the estates at different times availed themselves of three forms of organi- zation. They sat either together as one body, or by orders, or by an arbitrary division into chambers. At the session of 1356 the deputies first assembled by orders, but the numbers were so large that confusion reigned supreme whenever discussion was entered upon. Then a commission of eighty was chosen from the three orders and conducted deliberations for them in common. Its report was read at a general meeting of all the deputies and unanimously adopted. This mode of procedure enabled the States General of 1356 from the start to hold theii own in the face of all the opposition the Crown could bring to bear against it United effort left no chance for crafty intervention to set off one order against another. After 1356 the general form of organization was that by orders. IDut at different times during the session, when mat- ters of common interest were proposed, all the deputies nnited in deliberation. At the last few meetings, however, mutual animosities and jealousies had so embittered the estates against one another that no general sitting could be held, and common action could be taken only through deputations from one order to another. The organization by orders was the normal one from first to last. At the States General of Tours, in 1483, the deputies divided themselves into six chambers, or bnraux, for the redaction of the cahiers. Nevertheless deliberations upon general subjects were carried on in a meeting of the whole. To speculate on what might have been is not often profitable; but one is tempted to exclaim, how much the cause of popular liberty in France would have been aided if succeeding meetings of the States General could have main- tained the united feeling and adopted the organization of the States General of 1483! Tn the earlier history of the States General the rontine business consisted of deliberation upon matters laid before the deputies by the chancellor, the nomination of committees and 1885.] like States General of France. 49 the listening to reports, the drafting of measures to be submit- ted for the royal sanction, and the like. After 1468 the making of cahiers took an important place. Tn 1483 each chamber prepared a cahier from those of the bailiwicks rep- resented in it, the six thus formed were cast into one, an dpre- sented to the king by a single orator. This was one of the featnres that made the meeting of 1483 exceptional. Ordina- rily three general cahiers were made, one by each order. All the cahiers of the bailiwicks of each department belonging to the same estate were worked over into one. This process took place at the headquarters of the department, or at the lodgings of some higher officer belonging to it. Of the resulting cahiers, twelve in number for each order (for there were twelve departments), the one that seemed most complete was accepted as standard. The presidents of the twelve departments met by orders, with the cahiers in their hands. The cahier adopted as standard was read aloud, article by article, the others were compared with it. When any special points of difference were fonnd they were reported and noted down by a secretary. If the presidents failed to agree on any important question, it was referred to the deputies of the several departments, who dis- cussed it, voted on it, and returned answer to the commission. The vote of a majority of the departments settled the accept- ance or rejection of the article. As the resnlt of this method of redaction, carried on at the same time by the three estates, three cahiers were produced for presentation. Each of these treated not only the matters of special interest to the order in which it originated, but also those of general importance to the nation at large and those even with which the other estates were partienlarly concerned. In the course of time a fixed order of subjects was adopted; to each subject a special chapter was assigned. This stereotyped arrangement of topics took up in succession the Church, the INobility, the Third Estate, Justice, the Universities, the Moneys, Finance, Taxes, and Public Bur- dens. The chapters were divided np into sections, in each of which some grievance was set forth or some remedy suggested. In the case of disagreement in the cahiers of the three orders on any point there was no regular way of getting over the difficulty, no means of adjustment. The principle was voL. viii. 4 50 The State8 General of France. [Jan.,. established in 1356 and reaffirmed by the edict of Orleans, that the other two orders should not be able to bind the third estate. Efforts were often made, at first by general meetings,. afterwards throngh the deputations from one order to the others, to bring about harmonions action and unanimity of requests. But no rule was ever established. The relations between the three bodies remained for the most part formal and distant. As the States General never gained the right to make even a unanimous decision binding on the Crown, it mat- tered less whether their reqnests were consistent or not. After the three cahiers were completed, copies were presented to the king, in the presence of the deputies, by the orators of the estates. The original documents remained in the possession of the three orders. While the cahiers were being drawn up by the presidents of the departments and their assistants, it often happened that special questions were taken up by the deputies and passed upon, and that a commission was sent at once to the king to ask for an immediate answer. Sometimes, the king responded; more often he waited, alleging as an excuse that he wished first to see the cahiers. After these had been read to His Majesty, they were not infrequently given over to a commis- sion composed of deputies and of members of the Royal Coun- cil, to be wrought over into proper form for an ordinance. In such cases the session was a few times continued till the ordi- nance received the royal sanction. Generally however the States General were formally dismissed at the close of the same meeting at which the cahiers were presented, and the deputies were reqnested to select some of their number to remain after the rest had gone, that they might witness the faithfulness of the king in carrying out the wishes of his subjects. The closing of the session took place with the same ceremonial as the opening. In response to the addresses by the three orators the king never failed to declare, either in person or through the chancellor, that the caLlers should receive careful consideration, the deputies full satisfaction. After the chan- cellor had pronounced the formula of dismissal, the States General could meet again only after a new convocation by the Court. 1885.1 Revolution in the A. B. C. F 2W. 51 ARTICLE IV.TIIE REVOLUTION IN THE AMERICAN BOARD OF COMMISSIONERS FOR FOREIGN MISSIONS. AMONG the many Societies for public lSeneficence the or- ganization of which marked the early years of this century, was one that was characterized above all the rest by the singu- lar practical wisdom of its constitution. Concerning the constitutions of these societies generally, no one, in the light of later history, will venture to speak with much respect. They are nearly all after one pattern, and that a very bad one. It mnst have had, in the eyes of the projectors of these societies, a certain theoretic plausibilityan air of popular sovereignty, as if conferring on the contributors of the societys funds the right of directing and controlling the nse of their own gifts. il3ut it was an almost unaccountable lack of sagacity that failed, in the beginning of these societies, to foresee that in the event of their considerable success, this sort of constitution was, in the Carlylean phrase, a constitn- tion that wouldnt march that as soon as the constitutional membership of the society, charged with the government of its affairs and the election of its officers, should grow to large numbers widely dispersed, the control of the Society would practically come to be vested in a self-elected and irresponsible few. There are many persons who will be shocked at this way of putting it; there are others who will deprecate all dis- cussion of the su~bject; but there is no man who can venture to deny that in the case (for example) of the American Tract Society and of the American Bible Society, practically the sole re- sponsibility of the Managers and officers is to a small ring con- sisting of themselves and their personal friends. There are no real meetings of the Societies. The membership is defunct; it exists in name only, for purposes of popular impression, as a pretended constituency and control. It would be interesting to know to which one of the five gentlemen who met at Farmington, Connecticut, on the 5th of

1885.1 Revolution in the A. B. C. F 2W. 51 ARTICLE IV.TIIE REVOLUTION IN THE AMERICAN BOARD OF COMMISSIONERS FOR FOREIGN MISSIONS. AMONG the many Societies for public lSeneficence the or- ganization of which marked the early years of this century, was one that was characterized above all the rest by the singu- lar practical wisdom of its constitution. Concerning the constitutions of these societies generally, no one, in the light of later history, will venture to speak with much respect. They are nearly all after one pattern, and that a very bad one. It mnst have had, in the eyes of the projectors of these societies, a certain theoretic plausibilityan air of popular sovereignty, as if conferring on the contributors of the societys funds the right of directing and controlling the nse of their own gifts. il3ut it was an almost unaccountable lack of sagacity that failed, in the beginning of these societies, to foresee that in the event of their considerable success, this sort of constitution was, in the Carlylean phrase, a constitn- tion that wouldnt march that as soon as the constitutional membership of the society, charged with the government of its affairs and the election of its officers, should grow to large numbers widely dispersed, the control of the Society would practically come to be vested in a self-elected and irresponsible few. There are many persons who will be shocked at this way of putting it; there are others who will deprecate all dis- cussion of the su~bject; but there is no man who can venture to deny that in the case (for example) of the American Tract Society and of the American Bible Society, practically the sole re- sponsibility of the Managers and officers is to a small ring con- sisting of themselves and their personal friends. There are no real meetings of the Societies. The membership is defunct; it exists in name only, for purposes of popular impression, as a pretended constituency and control. It would be interesting to know to which one of the five gentlemen who met at Farmington, Connecticut, on the 5th of 52 Revolution in the A. B. U F. ill. [Jan., September, 1810, and organized the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, the American Church is indebted for snch a masterpiece of wise forecast as is found in the constitution which was then agreed upon. It is marvelous that a period characterized by such childish unwisdom in or- ganizing institutions for all time on a basis adapted only for the first few years of small things, should have given birth to so admirable an instrument,of an elasticity suiting it alike to the feeble beginnings of the Society, and to the days of its present or of any future magnitude; combining the definite personal authority and reponsibility which belongs to a small number of corporators, with the wide popular interest which comes of a multitudinous membership styled honorary, but invested with immunities and duties that make it much more than honorary; constituting a close corporation which can never, except by evasions of its organic law, become a secret corporation, but which is required to transact all its business, not only in the open daylight of public scrutiny, but under liability to interpellation and debate in the parliament of a great honorary membership having every right in its meetings except the right of voting. The high qualities of this masterly constitution have been approved and illustrated throughout its history of now three- fourths of a century. During that time, societies of a pre tended open~~ or popular constitution have been carried helplessly in the pockets of the managing ring, all interference being defied. Some have depended, like the Bible Society, on silencing discussion by a rule of business. Others, like the Tract Society, have seen discussion overborne by a howling mob, under favor of which the administration has escaped formal responsibility. In others yet, as the American Home Missionary Society and the American Missionary Association, there have been attempts to remedy the incurable defects of their organic law. The smaller societies, from the Seamens Friend Society and the American and Foreign Christian Union down, find a safe refuge from public censure in their inertness and obscurity. But from before the birth of the oldest of these, the American Board has pursued its splendid career, through financial difficulties, through stormy 1885.1 Revolution in the A. B. U F 9W. 53 agitations and debates, through all the trials to which such a Society is liable, except public suspicion of hidden abuse or of persistence in a condemned policy. In the nature of the case, this was precluded. Many a time the Administration has felt the irksomeness of the annual necessity of a public review of its doings. But unless it has been strangely blind to the source of the public confidence toward the institution which it represents, it must have felt that its exemption from the worst evils to which like societies have been exposed has been due to this inconvenient, recurrent, inevitable necessity. The only occasions when the American Board has been sub- jected to public suspicion and the necessity of Committees of Investigation, have been occasions when the constitutional provision for the annual unsparing public revision, control and direction of its affairs has been evaded or otherwise de- feated. The history of the American Board includes the history of some of the most memorable debates in the annals of American e]oquence. The ablest men in the service of the American Church have felt that here was a forum worthy of their best powers. It was neither a mass-meeting in which grave ques- tions would be decided by the sudden clamor of a popular vote; nor on the other hand, was it a quiet conclave for the deliberations of a few. But, with the vast public audience, the great numbers of eager disputants to whom the debate was freely open, the venerable senate of corporators sitting as a jury to hear and determine, and the grave questions that were wont to emergequestions not only high and deep, but at the same time concrete and immediately practicalwithal, with the vast spiritual interests involved; there was in the meetings of the American Board, as intended by the constitution of the Society, and as actually conducted until a comparatively recent period, every condition favorable to invite and stimulate the best faculties of the best men in the thorough transaction of the important matters of business which it is the. distinct and explicit object of the meeting to attend to. Among the more memorable of the meetings of the Amer- ican Board, in which great principles or great questions of policy or administration were taken up by the Board, and de 54 Revolution in the A. B. C. F ill. [Jam, cisions rendered for the guidance and government of the Ex- ecutive, may be named the meeting in Brooklyn in 1845, when the debate went to the roots of the Slavery question, and did much to enlighten and confirm the clergy and churches of the northern States in a temperate, discriminating, and therefore inexpugnable conviction on the subject of slavery ;* the meeting at New Haven in 1846, when sharp and salutary discussion arose as to the limitations on the discretion of the Secretaries, and the right of the Board to control and direct its officers was as- serted and maintained; the meeting at Hartford in 1854, when, through a conspicuously able, and animated debate, conclusions were reached which fixed the policy of the Board in the mis- sions among the North American Indians, especially as affected by the continually disturbing presence of slavery. But no meeting in the history of the Board, perhaps, has been more illustrative of the proper function of the Board, than the meeting held at Utica ii~ 1854, and the special meeting called some months later at Albany. At the Utica meeting it was brought to the knowledge of the Board, not by the facts in the annual report, but only by grievous complaints coming from various missions to members of the Board, that in the course of the year a gravely important change in the * The late annual meeting of the Board at Brooklyn [in 1845], was signalized by a discussion of slavery and its relations to the missionary work. . . The debate occupied the greater part of the entire session. It was free ; there was no restraint put upon the utterance of any opin- ion, however extreme. On the one hand there were the strongest de- nunciations, not only of slavery, but of all who are masters of slaves- on the other hand there was a speech from a South Carolina clergyman, suited exactly to the meridian, of Charlestonand both were heard with exemplary patience. The discussion was bold, partly in consequence of its being free; every man who spoke seemed to express his opinion without fear of giving offence. At the same time it was characterized by decorum. Though the number of members present, corporate and honorary, was more than six hundred, all of whom had the same right to speak; and though, in the absence or consultation as to who should lead in the argument, some fifty or more were ready and anxious to take part in the debate, there was no unseemly contending for the floor, and only once or twice was there any occasion for a call to order. And notwithstanding the necessarily desultory character of an unpre- pared debate, on such a subject, in such an assembly, all will agree that it was on the whole an uncommonly able discussion. LEONARD BACON in the New York Evangelist, January, 1846. 1885.] Revolution in the A. B. C. F. lIE. 55 educational policy of the missions had been effected by the sole authority and initiative of the Boards Executive. To some present, this act of the Executive seemed to be of the nature of a coup d~tat; and it was a grave question in the debates at Utica whether the Executive should not be ordered to reverse their action and restore the mission schools to the status quo. It was a question partly of the theory of missions, partly of the subordination of the Executive to the appointing and directing power, and partly of expediency. The debate was long and earnest, and was so far from arriving at a satis- factory conclusion that the meeting was adjourned, leaving the subject in the hands of a large and able committee, whose report, prepared after much direct correspondence with the missions, became the basis on which the Board, after renewed debate, was brought, at last, to a unanimons agreement, at the special meeting. Such meetings of the American Board are a thing of the past, and of a past which is already beginning to grow remote. But the days when these meetings were the great parliament of Christs Church in America for high debate and responsible action on the things concerning the kingdom, were the golden days of the American Board. Those great meetings, that were not meant for popular impression, but for very serious business in which the participants were too gravely absorbed to be on the look-out for popular impression, were, for this very reason, the most popnlarly impressive and instructive meetings that have ever been held for the advancement of missions. Vast concourses of earnest men thronged to attend them; and incidental to the central business of the meeting were opportunities that were never neglected, of earnest pub- lic appeal, of set instruction, and of the fervid worship of crowded assemblies of zealous believers. The incidental value of the meetings was found to be very great. And this was the beginning of the decline of them. The merely incidental results were so very important, even in a finaucial view, that those who were immediately responsible for the financial conduct of the Board began to exalt the mci- dental above the essential. Everybody said that the meetings were solemnly impressive; whereupon the persons on whom Revolution in the A. B. C. F. 3L [Jan.r the preparation of them seemed to devolve were tempted to say to one another, Go to, now; let us become impressive and solemn. Eminent persons must be spoken to in advance, to be on hand and make eloquent prayers; and distinguished speakers must be billed for the successive meetings through the week, in order that the interest should be well sustained. Withal, the transaction of business must not be allowed to intrude upon this program of popular addresses and acts of worship, but such necessary formalities of business as absolutely can not be dispensed with must be dispatched without discus- sion in such remnants of time as are not wanted for something impressive. And yet some of us who remember the old days are disposed to think that the meetings made far more of an impression for not throwing themselves into attitudes and trying to be impressive. Of course, the change tends to aggravate itself. The altered character of the meeting tends to change the character of the attendance; and this in turn increases the demand for a spectacular and emotional meeting, and the popular impatience at the sober and serious business of the Board. It would be the idlest affectation in the world to try and make believe that there is not another motive which has had influence in effecting the quiet but revolutionary change in this great institution. The effect of this change has been to invest a little knot of gentlemen in Boston with the practically irre- sponsible control of a magnificent system of spiritual influences reaching to the ends of the earth and affecting the courses of current and future history. To suppose that they do not enjoy this is to suppose them superior to one of the commonest in- firmities of noble minds. To believe them honestly convinced that the administration of the missions will be more wisely and safely conducted by themselves without interference from the Annual Meeting, is to impute to them no larger a measure of self-respect than is common to human nature, even in Boston. To deny that the present condition of things exists by virtue of something more than connivance on their part is to contra- dict demonstrable facts. To expect them readily to surrender this unwarranted and unconstitutional power, after having held it for several years with little question, iswell, is to pay them the highest possible honor as men of fidelity to a public trust. 1885.1 Revolution in the A. B. C. F. 111. How completely the arrangements of the annual meeting are Iixed in advance in such a way as to preclude all discussion of the policy and condnct of the Administration except in the order, on the topics, and by the speakers selected by the Ad- ministration itself, and in snch a way as to exclude any other business which the Board or its members might wish to enter- tain, may be j uidged from the official program of the meet- ing held in Columbus in October lasta program not essen- tially differing from those annually prescribed by the officers at Boston. From 3 m M. of Tuesday till noon of Wednesday, is consnmed by an unbroken series of set speeches and papers, some of them necessary to the business of the meeting, some of them highly desirable, if there had been time for them with- out excluding business, and some of them of no obvious imme- diate value, then and there, unless for the purpose of excluding business. On Wednesday afternoon and evening are prescribed discussions of the topics presented in the Home Department Report and in two special papers tendered by the Secre- taries, together with addresses. Thursday forenoon is occupied with Reports from Committees on the various Missions. At 2 P. M. the Lords Supper is observed; after which, at 3.30, is a Business Meeting for the election of officers, reports on Missions, and other business. All the remaining time, till Friday noon, is occupied by addresses, except a provision for Business Concluded, on Friday morning. What, now, is a member of the ~B~ard to do, who comes to the meeting with important business which he wishes to lay before his colleagues? There is a business meeting to be held on Thursday afternoon, in which there seems to be a chance for him under the title of other business; but his affair is one requiring deliberation, and reference, and report, and if he waits till Thursday afternoon it will be too late. He inquires of the Secretaries (for by the absurdest anomaly in the world, this meeting of the Board to examine into the admin- istration of its affairs is found to be under the supreme control of the persons whose administration is to be examined into), and is told that the Rule is that that all business shall be presented through the Business Committee. (It turns out, on subsequent inquiry, that there is no such rule, but there is no~ 58 Revolution in the A. B. C. F. ilL [Jan., copy of the rules accessible, and we must take the Secretarys word for it.) Where is the Business Committee to be found? After no small searching, one member of it is discovered, and then another, but when they are got together they are not aware what is expected of them. The upshot of the matter is that at last, not too late for the necessary action, a matter of the gravest consequence is got before the house and referred to a committee. But it is evident that the fact that a member of the Board should have any business to present to the Board is looked upon as something irregular, not to say eccentricone of those not-to-be-expected thin0s which do sometimes happen, and against which it is well enough to provide by the appoint- ment of a Business Coiumittee. But there is a business meeting provided for in the program. Yes; indeed there isas if the whole annual meeting of the Board were not, by its constitution and purpose, a series of business meetings. But there is a business meeting left. And if it were the design of the Administration to evade and defeat that wise provision in the constitution of the Board by which its business is to be transacted in the light of publicity, in the presence of the great body of its honorary members, assisting in its deliberations, and to substitute for the open meeting a secret conclave in which matters of great moment might be dispatched by a snap-vote without the public knowl- edge, they would find it difficult to devise any measure tending to that end, in addition to those which are annually used. The business meeting is announced for that hour of the whole week when the attendance of honorary members is most unlikely. It is appointed in a small room. The printed notice gives the impression that nothing but the most uninteresting routine business is to be transacted election of officers, reports on missions and other business. And actually, the honorary members in attendance are given to understand by public announcement that this meeting is a meeting of the eo~poi~ate members as if the corporate members had any right to hold a private meeting! This was done at Portland, and again at Columbus. Probably it was an inadvertence; but when such an inadvertence becomes habitual, it is a serious matter. 1885.] 59 Revolution in the A. B. C. J? iVII. And if an honorary member, by way of asserting his con- stitutional rights, had gone into this merely bnsiness meeting, he would have seen how convenient it is. Both by the laws and by the charter of the Board, the not very grievous but gravely important safeguard is prescribed, that the election both of officers and of new members shall be by ballot; and the first motion made in this business meeting is to defeat their own law and the law of the State by the very common but not at all respectable trick of nominating some one to cast a single ballot for the crowd. Apparently the motion would have prevailed, but for the protest of one of that class of members who had been invited to absent themselves. Beside these elections there was other business ~~nothing that the public or the honorary members could be supposed to take any interest inonly a mere bagatelle of a quarter of a million of dollars in the treasury that the Prudential Committee wanted authority to make a certain disposition of its all right, you know, the Prudential Committee only want you to pass this niotion. And so they passed it on the spot, without a ques- tion or a word, and smilingly adjourned to assemble again at one of the meetings that are not business meetings. There is no question at all of the great convenience of thus holding private corporation meetings, if only it were not unlawful. If this proposal to dispose of a legacy of $250,000 by a show of hands had been made in presence of the full Board, some inopportune member, not sufficiently informed of the wishes of the Administration, might have blundered out a motion to refer the matter to a committee, and in that case the Board, for mere decencys sake, wQnld have had to refer it. This would have taken time, and might have led to delibera- tionpossibly even to diversity of opinion. low wrong, to divert the minds of this great gathering of honorary members from the exercises of prayer, praise and pulpit eloquence, to the earthly and carnal question of what to do with $250,000! So much easier it is for all concerned, and especially for the Prudential Committee and the Secretaries, to have the whole matter dispatched in sixty seconds in a private meeting, and no questions asked. If only it were lawful! It is necessary to add, in order that the completeness of this 60 Revolution in the A. B. C. F Al. [Jan., strange revolution may be set forth, that the power which the Administration of the Board has usnrped over the conduct of the Meeting to which it ought to be responsible, is not confined to the exclusion of business, in a merely negative way. It ex- tends to intermeddling with the proper business of the Board in every way that is most indelicate and unbecoming, and most calculated to defeat the proper business of the Board, and the proper accountability of its officers. It was known in advance of the meeting at Portland, in 1882, that a member of the Board would try to introduce to the consideration of the Board a matter of grave concern, which involved questions of the wisdom of the Secretaries and the Prudential Committee in their management. On the way to the meeting, the Secre- taries were openly, without the slightest disguise, engaged in fixing up the committee to which this matter should be referred. They meant to do it fairly, no doubt; but what business had they, of all nien, to be fixing up committees at all? The member who wished to introduce the matter to his colleagues, had gone to the trouble and expense of preparing a pamphlet of statements and documents, for the fuller exposition of the case. The Secretaries assumed the responsibility of hunt- ing through the hall of assembly and gathering up all the copies of this pamphlet and secreting them, lest a member of the Board should succeed in communicating to his fellow-members facts which he considered pertinent to their inquiry into the conduct of the Boards business. When the Secretaries were taxed with this extraordinary procedure, they explained them- selves by telling what they were willing to have come before the Board, and what they were not willing, and how under such and such circumstances they might have been willing. An astounding piece of effrontery, it would have seemed, for a Societys employees to dictate to the Society what informa- tion it might or might not be permitted to have on matters relating to their official conduct! But in fact it was not effrontery at all. It was sheer simplicity. It came of their habitual conscientious feeling that it is their duty to manage and govern the American Board of Commissioners, instead of allowing the American Board of Commissioners to govern them. 1885.1 Revolution in the A. B. C. F. 2W. 61 But after all, does not the present condition of things prac- tically work well? It is evident enough that the original constitution of the iBoard has been capsized, and that they are sailing the ship bottom-upwards; but after all doesnt she sail so well in this shape that it is hardly worth while to try and right her np again ? In answering this question, there is no need to insist on the point, which some might dispute, that the conduct of the mis- sions would be the wiser and better for that bon4 ,ftde annual examination and control for which the constitution provides and which has until lately been exercised. The point might be proved out of the history of the Board itself.* But there is no need of proving it. There are points enough beside. 1. The present r~/qime is injurious to the one cause which it is supposed to promotethe public interest in the Annual Meeting. This meeting will live long on the memories and traditions of the time when it was really a great and important gathering; and the time will perhaps never come when enter- prising management on the part of the Secretaries, free accommodations, reduced railroad fares, and famous speakers shall fail to draw a great concourse to it. But already it is no longer 8uch a concourse, in point of character, as it used to be. The list of earnest, able, influential friends of missions, among the members of the Board, who habitually stay away from it, would be instructive on this point, if read in the light of other days.t 2. The present methods convert one of the best imaginable constitutions into one of the worst possible. The best imaginable is the constitution of the American Board as it was meant to be and as it used to be. The next * One of the instances which would require to be studied, if this historical argument were to be pursued, is the coup d~tat of 1854, by which the educational system of the missions was suddenly overthrown without authorization from the Board, to the sore detriment of the missions. Since then, the Administration has acknowledged its error, in some measure, by working back toward the old system again. But it was an error from which it would have been saved, if the Prudential Committee had been willing to add to its own wisdom the wisdom of the Board which it ought to have consulted. This point was impressed upon the mind of the writer by the remark of a man in very eminent position, who had lately been chosen a cor 02 Revolution in the A. B. C. F ilL [Jan., best, perhaps, would be a small close committee at Boston or elsewhere, in full and unlimited control of the whole business, distinctly and explicitly exempt from interference and super- porate member. He had given up attending the meetings, he said, because he found, by several experiments, that all that was wanted of him was to sit on the platform and look dignified. Another very distinguished and revered friend of the Board expresses his views on the subject in these words: I used to attend the Annual Meetings, and enjoyed them, when they were meetings for deliberation and action upon the proper business of such a Board. But I confess that they have not attracted me since they became meetings for conference and prayer only. The stimulus and uplifting of such assemblies one can get from any county conference, and more helpfully from any live church-meeting, in which no individ- ual feels lost in a crowd. I am glad if others obtain from the meetings of the Board as now conducted an inspiration not found elsewhere, but for one, I do not. I feel a more profound interest in the cause, and a more manful devotion to it, when and where I can be sensible of doing something more than listening to prayer and praise and exhortation. Generally speaking, people do not like to rise to a point of order against a hymn or a season of prayer. The only instance of it in parliamentary history, that we remember, was when Dr. Bushnell promptly said, I object, to a proposal to have prayer in the General Association of Connecticut before proceeding to business concerning himself. But so few persons have the courage of Dr. Bushnell that Let us pray is often the most effective of all methods of arresting discussion. Moving the Previous Question is not to be compared with it. But it ought to be used sparingly. There are not a few persons who remember with amusement, not unmixed with more serious feel- ings, how often, in the American Board, when discussion grew earnest, it used to be broken in upon by the thundering voice of Secretary Pom- roy shouting Brethren, let us sing a hymn, and leading off accordingly. It was an expedient to which there could be no resist- ance. And it is not strange that many who had tried the unequal strife should become discouraged and refrain from assisting in deliberations in which they were placed at such disadvantage. The General Remarks appended to the official account of the Annual Meetings of the Board, in successive volumes of the Annual Report, clearly reflect the official mind on the subject. The several meetings are extolled with loftier or fainter praise, according as they answered more or less closely to the ideal of a methodist camp-meeting; and the transaction of the Boards business in overhauling the official conduct of its appointees is adverted to as an unfortunate interference necessary, perhaps, but still unfortunate, with the great object of the meeting. These General Remarks are rather an impertinence, in the nature of them; and in the manner of them, they savor disagreeably of cant. 9 1885.] Revolution in the A. B. C. F. if 63 vision, and therefore feeling, every man in his own conscience,. the full weight of responsibility. The worst possible and altogether intolerable organization is the Boston Committee, ostensibly subordinate but practically supreme, acconutable to an annual public meeting whose liberty it has captured and all whose proceedings it engineers according to its own pro- gram, and upon whose pretended oversight and direction it can shirk its responsibility to its own conscience and to public opinion. 3. The existing methods are further censurable in that they can be maintained only by persistent dereliction of plighted duty on the part of the corporate members of the Board, and fraud against the honorary members. In 1863, the Board, which had not then ceased from active functions, solemnly declared that whereas membership in this corporation is not an honor merely, to be conferred on men distinguished by position, by learning and genius, or by civil and eccle- siastical influence, but is a trust which cannot be discharged without labor and sacrifice; therefore, every man elected to membership, if he accept and retain the trust, shall be con- sidered as pledged to perform its duties. Already the ten- dency to turn the serious business of the Board into a mere dress-parade was manifest, and the IResolntion of 1863 did not suffice to stop it. The value of praise and prayer as an instrn- mentality for repressing discussion and staving off investigation had got to be too well understood. But the IResolution is still on record as a reminder and a reproach. The transactions of this great Christian corporation, which ought to be an example to the country of honorable scrupulonsness in the con- duct of a trust, are rather an example to be quoted in apology for every derelict board of bank-directors. Fervent in spirit, slothful in business. 4. Further, the present methods are perilous. They secure, by illegitimate proceedings, to the administration, an immunity from annual anxiety, and to the Board, a release from annual duty; but it is at a risk for the future which it is not right to take. The Prudential Committee and the Secretaries are men of very high, but not at all of superhuman excellence.. And even if they were secure from the possibility of grave. 64 Revolution in the A. B. (I. F. AL [Jan., error and wrong, they could not be secure from the suspicion of it. At any moment, the suspicion is liable to be spread about that some serious abuse has been hidden in the secrets of the conclave of administrationthat some of the less gross forms of temptation have prevailed, the love of spiritual dom- ination, the inclination to do evil that good may come, the wish to screen an associate from censureand against such suspicions the administration will be defenceless. They will point to their eminent names, and the public will answer that those are the very names that are in question. They will refer to the annual inquiry and indorsement of the Board, and the public (having seen something of the nature of this inquiry) will laugh in their face; and then they will wish that they had confined themselves to their proper official business, and had refrained from tampering with the liberty, independence, and impartiality of the Annual Meeting. 5. But the practical mischiefs of the existing abuses are not in the possible future only. They are very real, actual and present. All over the country~ and in other countries, the Administration of the Board has been for these many years creating multitudinous centers of disaffection toward itself and toward the cause which it represents. It is one of the most trying and painful things in the duties of the administration of a system of missions, that the most cautious wisdom, the tenderest care, the truest affection towards missionaries and missions, and towards others with whom it must needs hold delicate and responsible relations, will not save it from being brought into relations of serious difference with some of them. It is the unhappy policy of the Administration of the American Board to shut in the face of all aggrieved persons the door of their proper Court of Appeal, and to insist on being itself the final judge in cases in which it is itself a party. One may freely admit the fair and even magnanimous intentions of the Administration in every such individual case, and yet condemn this policy as unjust and most fatuously unwise. What pastor is there, among the churches sustaining the Board, who does not know of sonic person now or formerly in its employ who is resting, perhaps without complaint, under a sense of griev- ance unredressed, on which he has never had a fair hearing, 1885.1 Revolution in the A. B. (I. F ilL 65 and never can have, so long as the Annual Meeting is run, its program dictated, its Committees made up, its time from beginning to end preoccupied, by the other party to the con- troversy? Every such person, however uncomplaining, is a dissuasive from the cordial support of the Board in the neighborhood where he lives, which it takes a great deal of powerful preaching to countervail.* Such is the gradual but complete revolution which has been effected in the most ancient and illustrious of American Missionary Boards, such the history, the evils and the dangers of it. How is it to be remedied? or is it irremediable? 1. The ready cure for it is for the officers and Prudential Committee of the Board simply to desist from a line of extra- official action which they ought never to have entered upon a sort of work which is not only aside from their proper functions but incompatible with them. Whether they have undertaken this work of their own motion, or even if by some inconsiderate vote of the Board they may seem to have been invited to it, they would be fully justified in declining any longer to be charged with it, on account of the most obvious considerations of delicacy. The fact that the general public acquiesces vaguely in the existing usage is nothing to the point. After the meeting of the Board in Detroit in 1883, which was criticised by some as deficient in thrill, a certain Western Ministers meeting voted to discuss the question, How ought the Secretaries of our great Benevolent Societies to conduct the Societies Annual Meetings ? They would have done well to follow it up with discussing: How the Cabinet Secretaries ought to conduct the Congressional debates on their Annual Reports; and How the Cashier of a National Bank ought to conduct the Inquiry by the Government Exam- iners. The proper way for the Secretaries of the Board * It is needless to mention names, though they might be mentioned by scores. Neither is it necessary to suppose that the Administration have ever done injustice on the merits of any single case. Their method of procedure,to have manipulated, preoccnpied, and kept the door of, the Court of Appeal, so that one having a complaint against them can have no recourse to it with hope of a fair hearingis itself an intolerable injustice, towards which no man with any love for fair play towards a weaker party is bound to have a moments patience. voL. viii. 5 66 Pevoluijon in the A. B. (I. P ill. [Jan., to conduct its annual meeting is for them not to conduct it at all. 2. Unhappily, it is little to be expected that the Adminis- tration will freely resign the irresponsible power which they have so long enjoyed. On the contrary, it would be in accordance with precedents even in sanctified human nature, if they were to cling to it with a struggle, thinking thereby to do God service. It is honestly difficult for able and energetic men, continually versed in the conduct of such affairs, not to feel themselves far more competent to decide questions of policy, than a Board of Commissioners who give to the subject only their occasional attention. And the more capable the administrator the more sure he is to feel his superiority to his superiors. That very able officer, Secretary Rufus Anderson, in an unlucky moment, protested that the work of Missions could not be carried on if the Board was going to interfere with the policy of its Committee and Secre- tariesthat we might as well hoist all sail and run the ship aground. But that was in the days when the. Board under- stood its dignity and its authority and its duty; and Secretary Anderson was very snddenly and sharply given to understand the proper relation between the Secretaries and Committee as subordinate and the Board as superior; and that it was for him to sail the ship according to his sailing orders, or not to sail the ship at all. So hard it was, and is, for the Administration to trust the Board to do the Boards own proper work! In case the Administration shall gracefully lay down its assumed charge over the deliberations of its superior body, and equally in case it shall decline so to dothe simple course for the Board to pursue is to resume into its own hands the conduct of its own proper business, by appointing at each annual meeting its own committee, from outside the circle of its administrative officers, to make arrangements for the trans- action of its business at the next annual meeting. So brief a vote as this would suffice to turn back that inauspicious Revolution in the American Board, which is the subject of this Article, and restore the defeated constitution to its original force. As a result of it, there would begin to be once more, as of old, an American Board of Commissioners for 1885.] Revolution in the A. B. C~. F 1W. 07 Foreign Missions, active and effective, and not merely a Boston Committee for Foreign Missions holding its annual public parade. Keither could any harm come of it. Why should it be feared that the Boards Committee of Arrangements for Busi- ness would not c& Sperate cordially with the Boards Prudential Committee and the Boards Secretaries? Can the Board be imagined as appointing a Committee that would not eagerly promote every reasonable desire of the Executive? Could it be reckoned an nnreasonable or harmful limitation of the Sec- retaries privilege of bringing in Special Papers to be made the subject of report and discnssion,* if other people should be allowed a chance to bring in business too? The whole town and the whole week of the Annual Meeting would be, as now, at the free disposal of the Administration for organizing popular meetings, with only this restriction, that they could no longer encroach on the necessary time for the transaction of the Boards business, nor infringe upon the Boards liberty and sovereignty. Every member of the Board would rejoice to see its annual convocation for business made an occasion of the * This business of Special Papers read by the Secretaries, referred, reported on, and discussed, is not exempt from liability to abuse. Some- times the papers are both important and timely; and sometimes they are neither. Dr. Aldens sermonesque document at Columbus on For- eign Missions the Test of Christian Character, for instance, was so arranged for, as, with the prescribed discussion to occupy an hour or two of the very best time of the meeting, without advancing the busi- ness one whit, but rather obstructing it. It would be one use of the Committee of Arrangements for Business, that when the Secretaries wanted to present a long paper of undisputed generalities, it might give the Board an opportunity to say whether it had time to listen to them then, or would wait till the next year. When the Board at its meeting in 1855, was astounded to find that the school system of the Missions had been overturned during the year, by the enterprise and self-reliance of its Executive, it began to be re- membered that for some time before the Secretaries had been bringing in to the meetings harmless-looking pieces of pulpit eloquence on such themes as Preaching the Great Instrumentality for the Conversion of the World, which would be regularly reported on and approved, nem. con., as that able and interesting paper. But nobody had dreamed that these complimentary votes were going to be quoted by and by, as the Boards sanction of a sudden and grave change in the policy of the missions. 68 Revolntion~ in the A. B. C. F 2W. [Jan., largest and most fruitful popular interest. No one could pos- sibly feel jealous, but contrariwise grateful, for the success of the Secretaries in organizing side attractions that would draw away from the Board-meetings that class of spectators to whom the grave and serious deliberations of earnest men on great questions is only a bore. Probably the experiment would prove in the future, as it has in the past, that no meetings can possibly be organized for popular impression that shall be half as impressive, instructive, edifying, and attractive as the ear- nest deliberations of men too intent upon the work of missions and their duty to it, to have any time to think whether they are impressive or not. 1885.1 Par8~fal at Bay~eeuth. 69 ARTICLE V.PARSJFAL AT BAYREUTH. No one who follows with attention the tendencies in the musical world to-day will ask, Shall Wagners greater works be frequently presented and generally appreciated in America? The question rather is, When shall the Master become known to the American public? It is a question of time. Meanwhile, those who lead the musical world and know their public thoroughly, offer Wagners compositions in small portions. Evidently it is a qnestion of no little time. In Germany, the debate upon the merits of the new music has culminated and has gradually subsided. Quiet satisfaction in the possession of a good thing is taking the place of heated discussion. If we wish, therefore, to look into our own fnture, we may turn for suggestion to the critical period in the German controversy. We may revert for most valuable suggestions to the events which transpired at Bayreuth in July and August, 1882. At that time Parsifal was brought out. Its appearance had been awaited with universal interest and the most contradictory expectations. Our simplest plan will be to take up the point of view of one of the audience at the first performance. We shall see memorable and imitable thingsmemorable scenes also which can never be repeated.* I. Ever since 1876, when the production of the Nibelungen Trilogy was the occasion of a great Wagner festival, the attention of art circles has been directed with greater or less intensity to this North Bavarian town. One may have been * In March, 1883, the writer chanced to notice in a local newspaper, published several thousand miles from Bayreuth, at a rude village among the mountains, a paragraph somewhat as follows: Wagner died sitting in his easy chair in his library at Venice. Below, in the sunny Grand Canal, a gondola waited to take the composer out for his daily airing. It is said that at the conclusion of a brilliant performance of his last opera, Wagner joined in the applause, waving attention from himself to his orchestra. To these artists we must now look.

1885.1 Par8~fal at Bay~eeuth. 69 ARTICLE V.PARSJFAL AT BAYREUTH. No one who follows with attention the tendencies in the musical world to-day will ask, Shall Wagners greater works be frequently presented and generally appreciated in America? The question rather is, When shall the Master become known to the American public? It is a question of time. Meanwhile, those who lead the musical world and know their public thoroughly, offer Wagners compositions in small portions. Evidently it is a qnestion of no little time. In Germany, the debate upon the merits of the new music has culminated and has gradually subsided. Quiet satisfaction in the possession of a good thing is taking the place of heated discussion. If we wish, therefore, to look into our own fnture, we may turn for suggestion to the critical period in the German controversy. We may revert for most valuable suggestions to the events which transpired at Bayreuth in July and August, 1882. At that time Parsifal was brought out. Its appearance had been awaited with universal interest and the most contradictory expectations. Our simplest plan will be to take up the point of view of one of the audience at the first performance. We shall see memorable and imitable thingsmemorable scenes also which can never be repeated.* I. Ever since 1876, when the production of the Nibelungen Trilogy was the occasion of a great Wagner festival, the attention of art circles has been directed with greater or less intensity to this North Bavarian town. One may have been * In March, 1883, the writer chanced to notice in a local newspaper, published several thousand miles from Bayreuth, at a rude village among the mountains, a paragraph somewhat as follows: Wagner died sitting in his easy chair in his library at Venice. Below, in the sunny Grand Canal, a gondola waited to take the composer out for his daily airing. It is said that at the conclusion of a brilliant performance of his last opera, Wagner joined in the applause, waving attention from himself to his orchestra. To these artists we must now look. 70 J~ar8ifal at Bagreuth. [Jan., devoted to Wagner, cold, or even actively hostile, with like result. Bayreauth was still to be the source of events in the musical world. One may have been musical or not, and in either case have asked, What is Wagner, the thinker, the poet, to add next to our prosy life; what old tale of human passion, splendid, difficult of access, hard to be understood, will he next make glowing, real, present to us? Throughout the past winter, in all parts of Germany at least, we have been talking about the coming of Parsifal. That was to mark the first month of summer holidays; and a run down to Bayreuth was included, or only for good cause shown excluded, when we planned for the dull month of August. To-day I was present at the first public rendering of the opera. Arrived at the ]3ayreuth station, one sees immediately that the town is overcrowded. Thronging towards the incoming, an eager mass of men and women are offering, urging, lodgings. The least bit of a girl insists upon carrying your hand-bag, and hotel porters say their rooms are all engaged. One selects the least objectionable among the petitioners and follows his lead. It is a plain little town of twenty thousand homely inhabit- ants. There are not the jolly old corners and dives that the western tourist demands and the native would be glad to see replaced by western regularity. Its streets are broad and straight and its shops shoppy. The French have been here to make a piece of that long history which is written in books, to destroy that very readable part written upon the dingy house- walls which they burned. It is a town unredeemed for the tourist unless it be redeemed by its one idea. We have seen that its one idea has crowded hotels and spare bed-rooms; look at it in the shop windows. Here is a tobacconists, and the image carved upon his cigar-holders is Wagners image; a stationers, and his fine paper is stamped with a bit of the score from Tannhiiuser. Busts, photographs, engravings innumerable, everywhere show the well known features, and in I,he book-stores everything possible to be told in word and picture about everything Wagnerian, by everybody. Pause a moment if you would have offered you by yon peddler a dictionary of all the unpleasant expressions which have been directed against the Master by his critics. Quite nicely got up, 1885.1 Par8~fal at Bayreuth. 71 this little book, and instructive, if one would cultivate racy invective. If yon have come in at ten oclock this Friday morning, and are passing one of the few dignified build- ings which the Gallic fire spared, the town church, you will hear from a balcony quite high up on the tower strains of a fine old hymn descending the all-echoing stair on the north side. The half-dozen musicians lean lazily against the railing, and now they repeat, addressing themselves to sinners east of the tower. How fortnnate, since the tower is four-sided, that the hymn has four verses! It is a fiat, not very picturesque district, with no fine waters, no fine hills. Small hills there are about the town, and on the best of these, which is crowned by the soldiers memorial of 712, rises half way np the slope Wagners opera-house. Standing quite alone in a park so far from town, the building might seem from the distance a large villa; snggests rather as one approaches and notices the roughly-laid red brick with yellow parallels and the simple constructional decoration, an exposition building. The andience beginning to assemble for the four oclock performance approaches on foot. A few carriages convey parties of ladies in afternoon-tea costume; but it is a plain and sober crowd picking its way along the road heavy with recent rain,inen and women who have come in spite of the thirty marks entrance fee, sacrificing not a little to attend this remote festival. We follow them into the auditorium. My admira- tion for the decoration and arrangement of this hall is quite unqualified. The andience gathers and disperses withont a bit of delay or crowding, the lighting is pleasant, the air fairly good. Consistently with its general plan as a reproduction of the classical theater, the decoration of its ceiling represents stretched canvas awning, bits of blue sky showing between it and the side walls. There are no galleries. The seats rise in terrace fashion, with the lowest on a level with the stage and the orchestra out of sight natnrally. The effect of the entire arrangement is to concentrate attention upon the stage. One could not rest in this hall without facing the stage, even if auditorium and stage were quite unpeopled. It is an interesting crowd now gathered, but with less of the 72 Par8ifal at Bdyreuth. [Jan., extravagant element than one might expect. Just behind me is a slender, long haired Wagnerian from Prag, who will surely cry, Master, Master, when the curtain falls; but just before me is a Leipzig merchant who swears by the Gewand~4au8who will cry not at all, but will mutter, Stuff ! At my left are several ladies of good country families dressed in English style, and so on. Quite noticeable also is the sprinkling of for- eigners. It is right that the overture should be greeted with this strained, eager attention. Its first half contains the (iral- mot~v, and it will become evident upon examination that of the whole workof the poet Wagner in remodeling an old story, of the composer Wagner in interpreting his story to the emotions through the medium of musicthere has been little freedom of choice granted except as touching the character of this motive, and this motive is to give its character to the whole work. This we must make our own and hold fast to, if the succeeding six hours are to be really hours of insight; to this we must finally appeal in judging of the work, whether it be true or false. The attempt to convey an adequate impression of it, however, I should expect to prove quite futile. A score which lies open before me would have it to be a simple matter enough, but for myself I get no proper notion from it. The whole situation is necessary to be recalled,, the situation as it had been in the composers mind and was being expressed before his very eyes. I prefer, therefore, to confine myself to general terms, saying, this is a strain neither martial nor monkish, exultant nor despondent. It suits neither the extravagant mediawal chivalry nor extreme mediawal piety. Neither of these is it nor both together. IRather it is the thought of a student of those times, keenly alive to both forces and prizing the noble manhood growing out of the union of the two. Edward Schella, in his readable critique upon Wagner, would have it churchy. Certainly. An eminent newspaper critic has much to say about sensuousness. Certainly. Hans v. Wolzogen is nearer the mark when he notices that it mediates in this prelude between the resignation of prayer to the suffering Christ and the triumph of victorious faith. The scene is Monsalvat, the territory and castle of the 1885.1 Parsifal at Bayreuth. 73 Holy Grail. It is the inountainons northern district of Gothic (Christian) Spain. Where the path leading np iMionsalvat begins in the shadow of a forest, by the shores of a mountain lake, Gurnemanz and two pages lie sleeping. A trnmpet call from the mountain annonnces dawn and awakens them. From the castle there arrive knights saying the sick king is no better and his bath mnst be prepared. Just now Knndry is descried in the distance, monnted like a Walkure. Dismounted without, she rnshes npon the stage, her tattered garments in wild disor- der, her hair falling in heavy tresses to the girdle of snake skin and almost concealing her dark face with its piercing black eyes. She gives a small crystal vase to Gurnemanz. ft is balm for the kings wound, brought from far Arabia. A train of knights and squires, bearing or accompanying the litter on which the sick king reclines, arrives upon the stage. Amfortas, the king, describes his sufferings piteously and thinks death near; receives the balm and with his attendants retires for the bath. Now only Kundry, Guru emanz and four squires are left upon the stage. The woman has thrown herself exhausted upon the ground, and by means of the dialogue carried on between the others the audience is instructed in the nature of the situation. When Titurel was building the castle, he found Kundry sleeping, rigid as though dead, in the thicket. Since that time, she has been the brotherhoods zealous messenger, serving with eagerness as though to expiate some crime. The kingdom of the pure faith had been threatened by the might and treachery of fierce enemies. Then in holy, brooding night, the Healers angel had descended to Titurel, given into his keeping the cup (Grail) from which He drank at the last love feast, into which the Crucifieds blood flowed, and the spear which shed that precious blood. For these treasures the castle was built. Only the pure can enter the service of the Grail, be miracu- lonsly fed and strengthened by it for chivalrous, merciful deeds. IKlingsor had sinned deeply and desired to become holy. Unable to conquer his evil nature by force of will, he lays an impious hand upon himself and his offer of service to the Grail is spurned. In boundless rage withdrawing, he devotes himself to magic arts and the work of decoying members of 74 Pars jal at Bayreuth. [Jan., the now hated order from their pure service. his garden of delights arises in the waste not far away. Enchanting women grow there like flowers, and their seductions have cost the order many a good knight. When the aged Titurel resigned the kingly office to his son Amfortas, it was with the injunc- tion never to rest until the accursed enchantment was at an end. Amfortas had undertaken the couquest, fallen unhappily himself into the snares of a woman terrible in her beauty, and the holy spear he bore had been turned in Klingsors hand against himself, inflicting the incurable wound. Before the despoiled sanctuary Amfortas had lain in fervent prayer when a light had streamed from the Grail and on its surface were read the words, Wait for him whom I have chosen: The chaste fool, by pity enlightened. A long story for Gurnemanz to tell. Only Scarias magnifi- cent voice could carry it off. And now for the first bit of action. The forest territory of the Grail knights is sacred ground. All creatures found there are protected by the invio- lability of the place. What profane hand has harmed the swan which pierced by an arrow ends its last flight at Gurne- manzs feet l From the lake an excited throng approaches surrounding and crowding forward a defiant country lad. The scene is very effective. Garments of knights and squires, long blue mantle flowing over pink tabard. On the shoulder stitched, a white dove. Parsifal, for he is the offender, stand- ing sturdily apart, his one garment of coarse stuff leaving arms and legs bare, holding bow and quiver in his hand: Certainly, I shoot what flies ! Moved to pity by the reproving words of Gurnemanz and the sight of the dead swan, he breaks and throws away bow and arrows. I did not know my fault. Whence come you ? I do not know. Who is your father ? I do not know. Who sent you this way ? I know not. Your name, then l I had many, yet I no longer know one of them. 1885.1 Pctr8Val at Bayremth. 75 You know nothing of what I ask you. Something you must know. I have a mother, by name ]Iferzeleide. Our home was in the woods and wastes. Who gave you the bow ? That I made for myself, to drive the harsh eagle (Adler) from the forest. Yet noble (adelig) do you seem and well born. Why did not your mother have you taught to use better weapons ? Kundry (still lying on the ground, glancing keenly at Par- sifal, in rough tones). His mother bore him after Gamuret, his father, had fallen in battle. To guard the son against such an early heros death she brought him up in the wilderness, strange to weapons. The fool would have made him a fool. Par8~fal. Yes, and once by the forests edge came riding on beautiful creatures shining men. I wanted to be like them. They laughed and rode away. I ran after, but could not over- take them. Throngh the wilds I came uphill and down; my bow my protection against beasts and huge men. Kundry. Yes, robbers and giants felt his strength. They all feared the dangerous boy. Par8~fal. Who fears me Kundry. The evil. Pars?fal. They who threatened me, were they evil? Who is good ? Gwrnemanz. The mother from whom you ran away and who now sorrows for you. Kun~dry. Her sorrow is ended. His mother is dead. Parsifal. Dead! My mother,? Who says so Kundry. I was riding by and saw her die. She bade me greet you, fool ! (Parsifal, enraged, springs upon Kundry, to throttle her.) Gurnernanz. Crazy boy!. Violence again? How has the woman harmed you? She spoke truth; for Kundry never lies, though she has seen strange things. (Parsifal is overcome with emotion. Kundry brings water from a spring, dashes it into his face and gives him to drink.) Gurnemanz. Well done and mercifully like the Grail. Who returns good for evil, banishes evil. 76 Parsfal at Bayrenth. [Jan., Kundry. T never do good: will only rest. (Retiring again into the thicket) Rest, alas, for the weary! Only to sleep, that no one should wake me. (Starting up) No! No sleep for me. Horror seizes me ! (As though threatened by some invisible foe and finding resistance vain.) My defense is powerless. The time is come. Sleepsleepf must ! The snn is high. It is time for the repast at the castle. Gurnemanz will take Parsifal thither and, the scenery shifting from left to right, they are seen as though advancing together up the mountain, entering a portal in the rocky walls, again mounting until they find themselves in the grand banquet hall of the castle. Here music of distant bells, choruses of knights and boys in petition and joy of faith, the really impressive beauty of the scene, combine in an effect worthy of the inspi- ration of medheval chivalry. The knights are seated at long tables, so disposed that, extending parallel from background to foreground, a space is left free between them. Partly filling this space is the dais where Amfortas lies upon his couch. Before him is placed, on an altar-like table the life-dispensing cup, as yet veiled. From a recess of the hall, one hears the plaintive voice of Titurel bidding his son uncover the Grail and perform his office. That sight of the Holy Grail which has long held him in life and which he must now enjoy or die, his own son must deny him. The bitterness of self-reproach, the burning wound where the spear entered his side in punish- ment of sin, fettering him still to the world of passions (for the wound is sin itself), unfit him for the priestly office. This last time, however, it may be allowed him. The ancient crys- tal vase is nuveiled. Dimness in the hall has become an omi- nous darkness; distant boy voices intercede in pure, ringing tones. A ray of light pierces the darkness, falls upon the vase which glows as a purple flame. All have arisen from prayer. Amfortas elevates the Grail, that it may rain influence through- out the assembly. Its glow has paled now; light returns to the hail; the sacred bread and wine have been distributed; glorious choruses hail the new revelation. After the momentary exultation, Amfortas has sunk back, overcome by renewed agony. Parsifal has stood rigid, absorbed, throughout it all, showing no apprehension of the 1885.1 Par8~fal at Bayreuth. 77 wonder, motionless except for a gesture of pain at his heart when Amfortas suffering seemed greatest. The knights embrace each other and depart solemnly. Gnrnemanz comes up to Parsifal and shakes him by the arm. Why are you standing here still? iDo you know what you have seen Parsifal can only reply in the negative by a motion of the head. You are nothing but a fool. Out with you. Go your ways. Gurnemanz advises you to leave the swans alone in future and to hunt the goose ! II. Half an hours pause between the first and second acts. One is glad to light a cigar and stroll along the gravel paths outside the theater ; to watch the heavilybooted tramping across and the daintily-booted tripping across to the restaurant in the garden; to sniff the cool air and compare what he has just seen with his anticipations. The story took on its form and pressure in the last years of the twelfth century and the first years of the thirteenth. Some of its features are indeed much older, are indeed what we are pleased to call mythological; but it assumed the form as we have just been seeing it no earlier. That form we were prepared for by the great poems of Wolfram von Eschenbach, composed at the time just mentioned, Parzival and Titurel, by the saga in the so-called Mabinogi (IMIS. 14th century), IRobert de il3orons Petit St. Graal (12th century), Chretiens von Troycs (t 1190) Perceval le Galois, Albrecht v. Scharf- fenbergs IDer Jiingere Titurel (1270). Much ingenuity has been expended upon the story first and last, and it is inter- esting to recall some of the turns and embellishments. The Grail, for instance: According to one account, the Grail was originally in heaven, having angels as its ministers. When Lucifer rebelled and fell, from his crown fell a splendid gem. His associates in rebellion, expelled from heaven, must now minister to the Grail on earth. According to another version, for centuries the grail hovered between heaven and earth, borne by those angels, until in the form of a cup sent him by God it should serve the Saviour at his last feast of the pass- over. Afterwards the vessel came into the possession of J~arsial at Bayreuth. Jan., Joseph of Arimathea, who received in it the blood from the wounds of the Crucified. Again, the Grail was said to be a bowl formed of a gem from the earthly paradise. A fourth version makes it a present from the Queen of Sheba to Solomon; a fifth would have its first possessor Noah. It appears in Wolframs account as a stone, by angels entrusted to the custody of Titurels pious knighthood on the mount of salvation, Monsalv~itsch, inaccessible to the sinful. There also it feeds and strengthens its champions; and a dove descending from heaven each Good Friday re~stablishes its union with the divine forces of which it is the manifestation. In Chretiens, the spear is that of Longinus, which pierced the side of Christ on the cross. In Wolfram, this meaning has disappeared. It is a poisoned weapon which in the hand of a heathen enemy inflicts an incurable wound upon Amfortas, engaged in a love adventure. This Amfortas is the sick king, a figure common to all the Parsifal sagas. In iMlabinogi he appears as a lame old man, Peredurs (Parsifals) uncle; but his sickness has little importance in the action. Lance and gory head are signals for Peredur to avenge his murdered father, and such is the heros task. In Chretiens, the sick king is the Grail king, and in Wolfram, the name Amfortas, 1. e. powerless, suiffei~ing,is given him; but his ancestor Titurel appears also in the Grail castle as the ancient, bedrid- den man. Amfortas is representative of the suffering which has found its way among the brotherhood through their fault. The offense is sensuality, disobedience to a fundamental rule of the holy order. Healing shall be brought by a knight who shall come and ask. This knight is Parzival.* Gurnemanz is the union of two several characters, an old knight of that name who appears in Wolfram as Parzivals host and counsel- lor, and Trevecent, brother to Amfortas, whom Parzival meets on Good Friday, when he returns after five years of wandering to the Grail territory. A trumpet-call from the theater summons us for the second act, a total change of music, scenery, action. A few wild strains which we had caught whenever the thought of Xling * Kraussold. Die Saga vom h. Gral, etc. Von Woizogen. Leitfaden dureh die Musik des Parsifal. 1885.] Par8!al at Bayreutk. 79 sor s enchantment had swept like a shudder through the mnsic of the first act, swell uow into a chorus of strange voicessuch toues as were never heard before. The prelude is Walpurgis- Night described iu music. Scene, Klingsons castle of enchant- ment on the southern slope of the same mountains, that is, the side next Arabian (Mohammedan), Spain. Within a tower, surrounded with necromantic appliances, Klingsor sits before a metal mirror. The hour has come. Parsifal) the fool, is near- ing the wizards castle; and Kundry, now in the power of death-like sleep, shall be transformed into a mistress of fascin- ations to his destruction. Compelled by invocation, Kundrys form appears, rising in bluish vapor, with a shriek like one in horror awakened from deep sleep. The same magic power which she now desperately struggles against had before compelled her to become Amfortas temptress. Sleep had then as now not brought the coveted rest, but only surrend- ered her spirit to the sorcerer, to become his servant and her own enemy. Taunted now with the weakness of those she serves, who alone can befriend her and who fall as soon as ade- quate temptation is offered, she is bidden to prepare for the most dangerous of all,him whom simple innocence shields. He has reached the castle, and its defenders oppose his entrance, fall upon himto their sorrow. Klingsor describes the encounter, with exultation seeing the boys bravery; for Parsifal disperses the watch and enters only to find his real enemy and real danger within. Kundry has meantime disap- peared, and now the tower sinks out of sight, in its stead appearing a tropical garden, filling the entire stage. Parsifal is seen alone, from the enclosing wall gazing with wonder upon the gorgeous flowers which carpet the place, reach down fantastic, glowing arms from the overhanging trees and build delicions bowers of rainbow lines. A palace at the side, from which as from every nook of the garden, lovely maidens come running in wild dismay. Half-dressed in garments like the petals of flowers, they are bitterly complaining of interrupted repose and seeking lovers who had hastened from their arms to meet the intruder. Their delicious chorus of complaint is directed against Parsifal so soon as he advances towards them, presently converting their spite into caressing appeals and 80 Par8~fal at Bayreuth. [Jan., jealous competition for his favor. I cannot ventnre to de- scribe in words of my own choosing what follows. Poetry, music, scenic-effect, are here in exquisite concord. Only through that combination can the scene have its proper value. In description,yes, upon a less perfect stage,the effect would be grotesque and vulgar. At last the delicious songs of these creatures, flowers the master plucks in spring, fragrant spirits growing here in summer and sun, are interrupted. Parsifal has behaved to these temptresses simply with boyish good humor; but the arch-temptress is still to be met. A voice startles the flower- spirits into silence. Parsifal IStay ! That name is a spell. Parsifal! So the mother once called me in her sleep. Transformed into a beautiful woman, Kundry is seen reclining upon a couch of roses. By that spell, recollection of his mother, she holds him. With that theme she stirs the tenderness of his whole nature, recalling the incidents of his life, and last of all the pang when Herzeleide waited in vain for her son to return, when her heart became heavy with sorrow that she died. Totally overpowered by painful emotion, Par- sifal has sunk at the feet of the enchantress, who now begins as artfully to comfort him. il3nt suffering has given to conso- lation and caress amplest opportunity. His shield of boyish innocence is withdrawn when Kundry presses upon his lips as the mothers last greeting and blessing, loves first kiss. A new world has disclosed itself to him. He knows what love is, and in the instant Amf9rtas ~mn and wound have become intelligible. With a gesture of horror he springs to his feet. Amfortas! The wound, the wound burns in my heart ! He had seen the wound bleed; now it bleeds for him. Kay, the wound it is not; no mere wound, but a burning torment at the heart which knowledge of ~in has entered. And he now sees that he had been called to rescue the sufferer, but in his folly had not understood the divine mission. Kun- dry approaches to renew the caresses in which he now sees only the arts which won the Grail king. Yes, this voice! So she called tohim; and this lookthatl clearly recognize. This also, destroying his peace with a smile. The lip,yes, it quivered so for him; so the neck bent beseechingly and again

80 Par8~fal at Bayreuth. [Jan., jealous competition for his favor. I cannot ventnre to de- scribe in words of my own choosing what follows. Poetry, music, scenic-effect, are here in exquisite concord. Only through that combination can the scene have its proper value. In description,yes, upon a less perfect stage,the effect would be grotesque and vulgar. At last the delicious songs of these creatures, flowers the master plucks in spring, fragrant spirits growing here in summer and sun, are interrupted. Parsifal has behaved to these temptresses simply with boyish good humor; but the arch-temptress is still to be met. A voice startles the flower- spirits into silence. Parsifal IStay ! That name is a spell. Parsifal! So the mother once called me in her sleep. Transformed into a beautiful woman, Kundry is seen reclining upon a couch of roses. By that spell, recollection of his mother, she holds him. With that theme she stirs the tenderness of his whole nature, recalling the incidents of his life, and last of all the pang when Herzeleide waited in vain for her son to return, when her heart became heavy with sorrow that she died. Totally overpowered by painful emotion, Par- sifal has sunk at the feet of the enchantress, who now begins as artfully to comfort him. il3nt suffering has given to conso- lation and caress amplest opportunity. His shield of boyish innocence is withdrawn when Kundry presses upon his lips as the mothers last greeting and blessing, loves first kiss. A new world has disclosed itself to him. He knows what love is, and in the instant Amf9rtas ~mn and wound have become intelligible. With a gesture of horror he springs to his feet. Amfortas! The wound, the wound burns in my heart ! He had seen the wound bleed; now it bleeds for him. Kay, the wound it is not; no mere wound, but a burning torment at the heart which knowledge of ~in has entered. And he now sees that he had been called to rescue the sufferer, but in his folly had not understood the divine mission. Kun- dry approaches to renew the caresses in which he now sees only the arts which won the Grail king. Yes, this voice! So she called tohim; and this lookthatl clearly recognize. This also, destroying his peace with a smile. The lip,yes, it quivered so for him; so the neck bent beseechingly and again 1885.1 Par8lfal at Bayreuth. 81 so was the head proudly poised; so waved the locks when she laughed, so did the arm encircle his neck, the cheek nestle against his ! Leagued with all pains did her mouth kiss away his souls health. All artifice is at an end. The two naturesthe mans nature and the womansstand revealed to one another, each passionately urging its claims. Kundry. Barbarous! Does your heart feel only others pain, then feel also for me. Are yon saviour, why not grant me union with him to my salvation? Through eternities have I waited for yon, for the Healer, whom once I scorned. Know you the curse which steeled inc in sleep, awake, in death and life, pain and laughter, to new misery ?I saw Him, Him the Crucified, and laughed His look fell upon met Now, from world to world I seek Him that I may again find Him. When my misery is greatest, when I ween Him near, that look upon me again. The curse is upon me and I must laugh, laugh. It is no saviour, but a sinner who sinks into my arms! Weep, I cannot, but must laugh, writhe, rave, in the ever-recurring night of madness. One hour united with you, to weep upon his breast who may take my sin upon him, were salvation ! Parsifal. To forget my mission for an hour in your embraces, were damnation eternal for you and for inc. So they must stand facing and opposing each otherthe womans nature and the mans. Parsifal has seen the perfect ideal, must leave all and follow after it, distracted though he be by a revelation of the whole sweetness and bitterness of humanity. His entire aspiration is centered in an object beyond himself, at the extreme limit of his thought. Kundry is passionately conscious of her immediate need; cannot dis- criminate between that divine love which is universalis har- monyand the human love which may be blind self-seeking. To her it is all oneit is love; and in love she must look for rest. Both natures are to find satisfaction at the same instant. Last temptation of all: How shall he find again the inacces- sible castle of the Grail without her assistance? She knows the world, while he has no wisdom of experience. That instruction she will givethe kingdoms of the world and the glory of themin exchange for his love. A vain hope; and VOL. VIII. 6 82 J2ars~fal at Bayreuth. [Jan., cursing him that he may err hopelessly as she has done, Kundry calls upon Klingsor for aid. Klingsor hurls the sacred lance, which, as though arrested by an invisible shield, hovers above ParsifaPs head. Parsifal seizes and makes with it the sign of the cross. Castle of enchautments and garden of delights are transformed into a heap of ruins in a desert place. Kundry lies helpless upon the ground; and turning to her as he hastens away, Parsifal: You know the only spot where you may see inc again. The curtain falls quickly. The second act deserves most careful study. Jt is the work, one may say, so subordinate are acts first and third dramat- ically. An eminent German critic asks, Why the peculiar character of these scenes ?and suggests that for contrasts sake they were introduced here in the median position. It were perhaps more in point to ask, Why the first and third acts? What we have just been watching contains the kernel of the whole thought. It is a magnificent effort to tell in words and music of the growth of the human soul. What there is miiore than this, is only to tell what grand passions are the life of the souls growth. First act and third can be little more than circumstantial, for the first introduces the situation and the last can merely carry into fulfillment the promise already perfect. Is this IKundry Wagners creature? Yes and no. As the accursed for her heartlessness, as Grail messenger, as temptress, no; as uniting these three characters in one, as representa- tive of iDas ewig Weibliche, as Parsifals instructress, reveal- ing to him the heart of humanity,yes. Already in the German saga, Herodias, who laughed as she bore the Baptists head upon the charger, had been condemned to eternal wan- dering. In Wolfram, (%ndr~e la Surziere is Grail messenger, a more grotesqne figure than here in the first act.* Orgehse is in Wolfram~ s version the fair in whose service fighting Amfortas receives his wound. Parzival is indeed tempted by her, but after he has discovered his fault. Clinsehor in Wolfram is Wagners Klingsor with some variance, especially as personifying the spirit of heathendom and as identified with the heathen opponent of Amfortas. In the poem of the * Parzival. Laehmann, vi. 813, 17 seq. 1885.1 J~ar8 ~jJ~tl at Bagreuth. 83 l3thl4th century, the Wartbur~1 Krieg, where Wolfram him- self appears as the chief opponent of iKlingsor, the latter is a very different figure from this enemy of the Grail. To point out more particularly the elements of these characters which are elements common to the saga-material of the whole North, this is hardly the fit opportunity. In a word, Wagner has combined often remote elements with tremendous dramatic effect. A study of this Kundry would well introduce one to the three greatest factors in mediawal story-telling: Germanic mythology, the play of the Christian spirit upon that, and the addition of features directly borrowed from the Orient. By comparison of this Kundry with the Venus of Tannhiiuser, one gains little, unless it be a sense of the grandeur of the former, who includes this Venus, the German Frau Holda, as a minor component of her complex being. II. The second entracte is long enough for one to make quite a leisurely dinner, very well sauced now at eight oclock. That is,it is long enough if one is more fortunate than Franz Liszt just opposite at the table who genially exchanges compliments with one and another of those who come up to claim his notice. The old autocrat of Weimar looks well, even robust, since his Italian journey of last winter. There is much more than benignity in this face. Catch the expression npon it when the enormous beer-mug, which at this instant conceals certain of his massive features, is lowered, empty. This man enjoys life and has safely passed the three-score years and ten. Act third restores us to the territory of the Grail. The scene includes the edge of a forest and meadows brilliant with flowers. In the foreground, a spring; opposite which, a her- mits cabin. Early morning. Gurnemanz, now in extreme age, clad as hermit, comes out of the cabin. He hears the sound of faint moaning issue from the tbicket, puts aside the underbrush and discovers Kundry, rigid and apparently life- less. He restores her to consciousness and begins to question her, but receives no answer except, Let me serveserve. She is again the Grails messenger in general appearance, but without the old wildness. She goes like a maid to her duties 84 Par8ifal at Bayreuth. [Jan., in the hut. A knight approaches from the forest. He is armed cap-a-pie. With visor down and head bowed, lost in reverie, he advances to the spring and reclines at its edge. Scarcely returning the old mans greeting, he receives also in silence a reproach for bearing arms at the sacred spot and on a holy day. Good-Friday calls to prayer. Laying helmet and sword aside, the knight kneels in silence before the spear. Gizirnemanz recognizes at once the boy who shot the swan and, thrust before him into the ground, the weapon Amfortas had lost. Along the paths of error and suffering, Parsifal has finally returned. The sacred power of the weapon in his possession he has not dared to employ. Unaided he has fought his way to the goal. Now he learns that since the day when he was present at the feast of the order, Amfortas has refused to per- form his office, because he desires death for himself. No longer miraculously fed, the Grail knights languish and Titurel has died. Parsifal, consistently enough with the emotional nature of such a hero as he is now come to be, is overpowered by the sense of his own responsibility for all this suffering. Supported by Gurnemanz and Kundry, he is conducted to the spring and bathed in its healing waters. And Kundry, this woman which was a sinner, did wipe his feet with the hairs of her head and anointed them with ointment. Anoint his head also, aged Guruemanz, for to-day he shall be greeted king. Sympathetic sniferer, beneficently wise, his first official act is Kundrys baptism. Believe on the Redeemer I, Here follows recitative, describing lyrically the influence of the festival, Good-Fridays enchantment upon flower and meadow. Attired as a knight of the order, Parsifal is conducted by Gurnemanz to the hall of the castle as in act first. The knights are entering in solemn procession, one band accom- panying Amfortas with the Grail, another bearing in Titurels body. Their choruses are accusation and condemnation of Amfortas, who is again and for the last time summoned to the sacramental office,in vain, for all hope has left him save the hope of death. With the rage of desperation he staggers to his feet, piteously calling upon the shrinking knights to pierce his breast with their swords and end his torment, when 1885.1 Par8~fal at Bayreuth. 85 Parsifal advances, with the spear-point tonching Amfortas side. One weapon alone avails. That spear which smote yon will heal the wonnd ! By snch token is he known to be king in Amfortas stead. The shrine is opened. Parsifal takes from it the cnp and sinks before it in prayer. The Grail glows and a splendor falls npon the assembly. From heaven a white dove descends and hovers above Parsifals head. He exalts the sacred cup and voices from out the heights proclaim: Redemption to the Redeemer! The curtain falls and the orchestra conclndes a moment later, that with Gral-motiv, Glauben8therna and Kla8ungswort, the last impression may be purely musicaL A storm of ap- plause; and the whole audience is upon its feet, looking anx- iously for the composer to appear. This he presently does in a Loge opposite the stage; and joining in the applause he waves his hand toward the stage to indicate that to his artists the praise belongs. That is no fiction. The task set before the artists to-night was gigantic, and their shortcomings in voice and action suprisiugly few. As to this third act, contradictory opinions will always be entertained. From whatever stand-point viewed, it invites vigorous criticism and furnishes means of vigorous defense. Applying the principles of dramatic criticism, it seems indeed to be unworthy of its position. Act second has developed char- acter with a certain Greek inexorableness. One follows without reserve each step in that development, until at the end of the act the conclusion of the whole matter is irresistible. All conditions necessary to the redemption of Amfortas and the brotherhood are perfect, except the one condition of Parsifals presence at Monsalvat. The guileless fool has become by pity enlightened, and only distance, physical position, keeps the interest in suspense. Is the traversing a certain number of miles sufficient matter for a third act ~ Not even that either; for the opening of this act finds Parsifal already at his goal, and half a dozen general words serve to describe his wander- ings. But what would have become of Parsifal had he fulfilled his mission immediately after the concluding scene of act second? The nature of his mission associates him with the 86 I? ar~ jal at Bagreuth. [Jan., Grail brotherhood alone. To them alone he belongs. But he could not take a position subordinate to the king whom he had saved by superior virtue. lie must himself be king. He is not yet ready for that. In point of fact, substance is given to act third by this unanticipated extension of the symbolism of Parcifals character. He is no longer a po88ible deliverer; he is the Saviour, and golden hair and beard, costume, posture, serve to heighten the physical resemblance to the Christ of popular art. Bad dramatic art for it averts an anti-climax only through the introduction of new matter of which the appro- priateness is at least questionable. Orderliness, integrity of development have been sacrificed. But such criticism touches only half the question. From a musicians standpoint, act third is obnoxious to mo such objection. On the contrary, it is peculiarly appropriate that after its excursion in the second act, the music should r~mturn to and conclude with the Gralmotiv and associated motives and themes. For, musically speaking, the central point of the work is the Gralmotir; dramatically considered, the culminating point is Parsifals enlightenment. If one were to compare Parsifal with the comparatively little known Heilige Elisabeth of Liszt, the composition which of all others it most strongly suggests, the suggestion would be found to come exclusively from acts first and third. It would hardly be profitable to deplore in set terms what seems to me the blemish in one portion of a great work, or to make the obvious comments upon a startling employment of themes by common consent set apart.* But what of Parsifal? How did he become what we find him here revivified? The sources from which the story is drawn have been already mentioned. As to Parsifals educa- tion, then, in the forest where his mother would have kept him remote from the knowledge of arms and knighthood, the appearance of mounted warriors enticing him into the world, Mabinogi, Chretiens and Wolfram agree. According to Chr~- tieris, it is in peasants dress, but in Wolfram it is in fools * In 1877, the American poet-musician, Sidney Lanier, wrote: O Wagner Thine ears hear deeper than thine eyes can see. Thou, thou, if even to thyself unknown, Hast power to say the Time in terms of tone. I88~.] Pctrs9fal at Bayreuth. 87 motley, that he sets out. The incident of the swan is naturally enough snggested by an incident in Wolframs poem. In Mabinogi, he comes to the castle of his lame uncle and fails to ask the meaning of spear and gory head. In the other accounts, it is the Grail castle, where it has been annonnced that his question will heal the sick king. He does not ask, remember- ing an injunction against curiosity, and is scornfully dismissed, receiving later a curse for his neglect. delivered, as Wolfram tells, by Cundrie. After five years of wandering and adven- ture, he meets the hermit or knight who reproaches him for bearing arms on Good Friday and instructs him in the mysteries of the Grail and holiness. His search for the castle is suc- cessfully terminated. In IMiabinogi, he avenges his father; Chretiens recounts his healing the king by asking about spear and Grail; Wolfram, by asking Was fehlt euch, Ohm ? In Wagners hands, then, the thou~ht of the story has simply advanced one step. Wolfram has the thought: Pity is saving; to pity, one must know; to know, must have asked. He throws the emphasis upon the question, least dramatically valuable member of the thought-sequence; Wagner, on the enlightenment and sympathy through knowledge. In other words, it is the change inevitably accompanying transition from. the epic form to the dramatic. But Wolfram leaves Parsifal installed as Grail king simply, with wife and son, Lohengrin; while Wagner has given him the likeness of Christ. It is true then of this character as we have seen that it is true of the others, that Wagner has used the existing material exhanstively, combining, unifying, intensifying. That is to say, the essence of the old saga ha~ been retained. At the same time, he has in Kundry given us the most interesting of his creatures, and in Parsifal himself, I fear, through the devi- ations from the text in his case, an apple of discord. There is so much to be said about the symbolism and mysticism with which the whole story is impregnated; about its being deep- ened legitimately, or on the other hand unjustitiably, in this case, that I venture here to show only what is the subject of dispute. If exception, also, were taken only to the peculiar r~3le which Parsifal is called npoi?m to play in conclusion, the matter wonid be quite simple, for that might be altered as 88 Par8ifal at Bayreuth. [Jan., already in two salient points the action has been modified since the first rehearsals. But were the coloring here less vivid, would there be substance euongh left for a third act? Oue consideratiou which has been advanced above may however be reiterated because it is believed to lie at the root of the whole matter. Looking at this work as a dramatic composition and as a musical composition, one is inclined to say, If part of the excelleuce of the former has beeu sacrificed, it has been that the latter might become the admirable thing which it indeed is, the freest and most perfect expressiou of Wagners musical theory. 1885.1 Jn8piration. 89 ARTICLE VJ.INSPIRATION. CHRISTIAN doctrines arise in satisfaction of the reflective, constructive activities of the human mind. We may, if we choose, speak contemptuously of systematic theology, but it is the fruit of the same impulses precisely which are the occa- sion of sciencethe desire to give rational coherence to certain facts. Theology is less satisfactory than science only when it is less attentive to the facts which it seeks to expound, or is less coherent in their explanation. Theology may easily assert a doctrine in order to give consistency and firmness to a sys- tem, and in oversight of any known facts to be expounded by it. This is pre~minently true of the doctrine of inspiration. This doctrine, in its earlier history especially, seems to have received its form wholly from an idea present to the mind of the doctrinaire of the necessity of an unmistakable cogency in Scripture as a ground of authority and certainty in belief and action. Tt was no inquiry into the facts offered by the Scrip- tures, nor even into their assertions concerning themselves, which gave rise to the doctrine of plenary inspiration; but the feeling that this doctrine must be accepted, or other doc- trines would be left without sufficient support. The dogmatic spirit asserted itself strongly in reference to revelation, and so made way for itself everywhere. The mind was not yet ready for the simple and sufficient authority of truth, and so con- fronted the various forms of authority it encountered with the authority of inspiration expressed in revelation. In propor- tion as the simple facts of Scripture have received more atten- tion and more critical study, the doctrine of inspiration has been modified to suit them. This change has been rapid in the last half century. This movement of readaptation of the statement to the facts to be covered by it, starting as it did with the notion of a mechanical and verbal reproduction of the divine thought in the inspired book, is ready to end with the spiritual idea of an inspired author, entering by insight 90 Inspiratwn. [Jan., into religious truth. When this readjustment shall complete itself, inspiration will simply mean the minds mastery of truth, its insight into it; and religions inspiration will be the inner hold of the mind on religious truth. The definition of Dr. Emmons (vol. iv. p. ~5 of his works) may stand for the idea of inspiration while it was still defined to meet a dog- matic want. The natnral faculties of the sacred penman were superseded, and God spoke directly to their minds, making such discoveries to them as they could not have otherwise obtained, and directing the very words in which snch dis- coveries were to be commnnicated. If we confront this assertion either with the plain facts offered by the Scriptures, or with any assertion made in them of the nature of inspira- tion, the discrepancy is very great. Professor Parks defini- tion of inspiration indicates a decided effort to restate the doctrine in view of the Scriptures themselves. He says in his lecture on theology: Inspiration is such a divine influence on the mind of the sacred writers as enables them to teach in the best possible manner all they intended to teach, especially to communicate religious truth without any error, either in religions doctrine or in the religions impression.* He then proceeds to say that inspiration does not affirm correctness in scientific or historic facts. Thus the doctrine of inspiration retires from the general field of knowledge to the more strictly religions realm. Professor Ladd almost if not quite completes the move- ment by passing over to the idea of unusual insight. Inspi- ration is dynamical, and therefore involves the illumining, purifying and quickening. by the Divine Spirit of all those mental faculties of ipan which enter the work of revelation. It is the form and degree of the activity which seem to demand for their explanation an unusual cause. In inspira- tion the cause of the activity is the presence with the human spirit of the spiritual energy of a divine agent. (Doctrine of Sacred Scripture, vol. ii. p. 468.) Inspiration occasions no activity which is specifically different from normal activities (p. 470). The idea and fact of inspiration do not include either the idea or fact of infallibility (p. 483). * The quotation is from notes and not verbally exact. 1885.1 Insp& ratjon. 91 Here is a statement of the doctrine which gives free play to biblical criticism, and is ready for any and all conclusions. It is no longer necessary to defend the absolute authority of the canon as the only means of secnring the truths it contains. These truths have an evidence and a strength which make them in a large degree independent of their surroundings. They enforce themselves; they are not enforced by proof far weaker than their own inner energy. This view requires but one addition to make it completely spiritual, and that is the essentially normal action of the truth on the mind as well as the normal action of the mind under the truth. In fact, the two would seem properly to involve each other. The Divine Spirit is not in inspiration a super- natural power, pressing the natural powers of man beyond their normal limits, but a normal spiritual influence, bringing the healthy powers of mind up to a high activity, and so open- ing before them, not absolutely or completely yet in a marvel- ous degree, the groundwork and principles of religious truth. Thus inspiration is essentially natural; is,in the highest use of the word, natural, and involves the most complete action of human powers, though free from no one of their ordinary accidents or liabilities. I wish to offer a few considerations in favor of this latest result of criticism. The feeling which has given rise in suc- cession to the more rigid views of inspiration, has been the desire to win authority for religious truth, to strengthen its grip and give it vantage ground against the indifference and ignorance of men. This well-meaning effort, though it has subserved a purpose, is we believe a mistake, and can only save itself from becoming a failure by accepting the changes which the progress of thought is bringing to it. There is in the rational constitution of man only one ulti- mate seat of authority, and.that is for each man his own reason, his own conscience, his own nature. This is the divine, con- stitutional plan in reference to man. Reason cannot submit itself to anything but reason, and remain rational. Reason, whenever it enters the field of action, enters it to rule, and can enter on no other condition. Its self-assertion is absolute and complete. It would require strong proof, indeed, admit- 92 In8}9~ration. [Jan., ting this to be man~ s intellectual and moral nature, to show that another principle and method prevail in religion, the highest direction, the fullest development of this inner life. Of course, this assertion of the supreme authority of reason for each rational being does not overlook or deny the familiar fact that reason, of its own behest and for its own ends, is constantly submitting itself to instruction and to guidance. Instruction is simply securing the conditions of larger activity; arid guidance is accepting the knowledge of another as, for the time being, or in some one direction, more complete than that of the mind thus submitting itself. Doubtless just here is thought to be found the fitness of a supernatural revelation by those who do not clearly see the office of reason, or who look upon it as in some way alien to religious truth. Here, therefore, we need clearness of thought. One submits himself in action, in practical exigencies, to one whom he has reason to think wiser than himself. He does not do this in a discussion and comprehension of truth as truth. One may know the conditions and so the methods of action better than I, and so, for the time-being, I do well to follow his direc- tion. I can not enter into truth in this method. I can not understand geometry or comprehend social science by submit- ting my opinion to another man~ s opinion. It is a first condi- tion of true knowledge that I myself see the principles under discussion, and know their validity. Any thing less than this is so much less than knowledge, so much less than comprehen- sion. The autocracy of the reason asserts itself at once in its own proper field. Instruction does not alter this cardinal truth. Instruction is simply furnishing the mind the conditions of this normal activ- ity, and must itself shortly proceed by direct and snificient insight. Both the teacher and the taught must move with knowledge in this field of knowledge. That movement of reason which is complete within itself, and which is helpful to other minds complete within themselves, is strictly a normal one; that is, a movement under its own impulses and by its own laws. We may assume and affirm unusual activity in the higher field of revelation; we can not assume any degree or phase of abnormal action, since all knowledge must proceed 1885.1 In8piratwn. 93 from, and must issue in, insight, comprehension. In the de- gree in which it fails of this, it misses its full purpose. The truths of revelation are the truths of the moral, spirit- ual reason. They are not detached facts of a familiar order, yet unknown to us, such facts as lead one to seek a guide in a forest; nor are they facts of an order which can be sufficiently put into words and adequately taken from them. Such a fact as the nature and being of God may be affirmed ten thousand times, and still be understood in ten thousand ways, and all of them partial. The best insight of the soul into moral quality and moral government, into spiritual life, is requisite in the interpretation of a fact of this order. We might much better expect the words, precession of the equinoxes, should carry a knowledge of the fact, its causes and its effects, than to sup- pose that the words, God is love, will interpret themselves freely to every mind. This whole spiritual region is one of large, deep, growing insight, and can be entered in no other method. One can in no way approach it mechanically; he must approach it rationally. The reason may be greatly exalted, but in its exaltation, it will still remain intensely rational, working with peculiar force under its own laws to its own ends. A truth that is in this true sense understood by the writer is a revelation; if it is uot so understood, it is not a revelation in him, nor is it likely to be in the reader. Its utterance is some kind of frenzy, I know not what. Any supernatural force, that is force beyond the minds own ener- gies in inspiration, must, therefore, from the nature of the case, be abandoned in reference to essential truth. Truth expounds the moral universe and is expounded by it. We do not truly know God and believe in God, till we know him and believe in him in the entire range of his government. This is a knowledge which can never be complete, but must always be in the process of completion. Yielding a supernatural revelation in these higher truths, we have no occasion to retain it, and show no wisdom in retaining it,in reference to secondary facts of a more familiar order. We should by such an assertion place ourselves in the ridicu- lous position of saying, in reference to the Gospels, for in- stance, that all their statements of facts are correctly made by 94 Jn8p9~ratwn. [Jan., authors divinely guided for this very purpose, while we are yet unable to prove in any final and sufficient manner that the Gospels were written by these inspired apostles. We thus invoke divine authority for the second of the two premises which sustain our conclusions, while we are compelled to leave the first premise overshadowed by a thousand difficulties and doubts. This is unreasonable. Our premises, like the legs of the lame, are unequal. As a matter of fact, the divine authority sought for by the doctrine of inspiration has never been attained. It has always resolved itself in use into this mans authority or that mans authority; the authority of this exegete or of his rival; the authority of one school in theology or of an opposed school. The leaders in religious thought have not been willing to grant their followers the same liberty they themselves have exer- cised; and they have riveted the chains of dogma on other minds by their own interpretation nnder this dogma of inspira- tion. Inspiration has not meant clear and sufficient, though partial, knowledge, as it must mean to be offered as a spiritual condition to free thought. Nor have those who have accepted and urged the absolute authority of Scripture, shown any peculiar advantage, by virtue of this doctrine, in handling fresh moral questions in daily life. Their alleged final knowledge has not sufficed to give correctness to the urgent judgments of the hour, which properly come under spiritual truths. A certain spiritual genius, a sympathetic insight into moral relations, have always been the direct conditions in each generation of that spiritual discernment which rebuilds some portion of the social world, or puts up some new structure of grace and good will in the Kingdom of Heaven. The infallibility of Scripture, by whom- soever asserted and enjoined, has shown no infallibility in use. On the other hand, it is true enough to be observable, that the dogmatic spirit which gives rise to the doctrine, and is sus- tained by it, is unfavorable to lively, acute and progressive moral judgments. These more frequently belong to more concessive and liberal minds. An inspiration which, in any degree or at any point, trans- cends simple knowledge is lost again almost as soon as gained. 1885.1 Inspiration. 95 How are these truths which are to be apprehended as truths, and are not to be repeated as verbal statements, to be passed over from the inspired to the uninspired person? The in- spired mind, so far as it is in any supernatural way inspired, must fail to measure the truth uttered by it. If it does not fail to apprehend the truth, then its action is so far normal, and calls only for normal conditions; if it does fail to appre- hend the truth, how can it itself be profited by the truth, or profit others by it? The doctrine of inspiration springs from vague thonght. It wishes to secure a strictly normal result, knowledge, by abnormal means, an overpowering divine pres- ence. And how is this inspired truth to be received by the uninspired reader, and so profit him? He must understand it. Words as words do not convey ideas. His mind must be brought to the height of the topic. He, too, must stand on Pisgah. An inspiration that has in its inception a truly super- natural element, that is one transcending the natural action of the mind, must be propagated by supernatural action in the reader or listener. Truth thns transferred is not knowledge, but something other than knowledge, something less than knowledge. Nor can we properly say, that supernatural excitation is requisite for the highest natural action. Action that is normal can profit by no abnormal means. To assert this, is to con- found terms and ideas. The distinction lies just here; the normal is provided for in the constitution of the mind; the abnormal does not simply transcend that constitution, it is alien to it. All, and even more than all, that the average mind can understand in spiritual things, can be imparted by the spiritually great mind. Men n~ver fail through the want of instruction, but through the want of a disposition and power to understand it. Such minds can not be helped by magnify- ing the truth; they must be helped by the slow growth of their own powers. That view of inspiration which makes it of the nature of spiritual geniusthe clear mind, acted on intensely within itself and without itself, profoundly stirred in its own powers and broadly illnminated by the light of eventsbest accords with the facts offered by the Scriptures themselves. The 96 Inspiratton. [Jan., ordinary view of inspiration has always led to violence in handling these facts. Such a book as the Song of Solomon offers itself as an invincible obstacle to a divinely ordered canon. Ecclesiastes is to be read as it was written, as a con- fused utterance on a low moral basis. So read, it is instructive. The Psalms are very unequal. They contain a very high con- ception of majesty and power, and a far less complete concep- tion of love and grace. For this very reason, we have the revelation in Christ. The older view of inspiration makes a stumbling blocka true rock of offenseout of every diffi- culty. The more rational view finds these obstacles mere pebbles in the path. Nor does it by this easy-going method lose any truth; quite the reverse. It reaches every eminence, like a contented traveler in full heart, ready to be taught, ready to be wrapped in heavenly visions and to share their inspiration. When Paul is ecstatic, his ecstasy is ours, because we believe it to be fully his, and that it may, therefore, be as fully ours. Nor does the later view of inspiration suffer loss in spiritual energy as compared with the older view, but is in fact higher than it. The mechanical, the supernatural, the authoritative element have all entered 4mm derogation of reason, and so of the best and holiest attainment. The more profound and far- reaching the truth we have under discussion, the more inapproachable is it to a mind and heart in any degree coerced or overpassed by the divine presence. It is every way a better result to understand truth, and so to accept it, than it is to receive it, if this be possible, without understanding it. The one movement is a verbal process; the other engages the whole mind and heart. It springs from life and passes into a higher life. This ever recurring tendency to soften the doctrine of inspi- ration, and to restore in it, more and more, the personal powers of the writer, is the inevitable result of rational growth. That tendency completes itself in the doctrine now urged. The earlier mechanical view arose from the desire of authority without seeing the true seat of authority. It is only slowly, in any direction, that men learn to transfer authority from the outer to the inner world; from others to themselves. 1885.] lin8piration. 97 The experience of men in connection with revelation is pre- cisely what it has been in science and in social growth. Dicta have disappeared, and well-reasoned principles have taken their place, not only as involving a higher authority, but the only real authority. God, acting on the mind and in some degree coercing it, at first seems a more manageable conception than God acting in and by the mind, leading it into the light and walking with it in the light. But the latter conception grows constantly on the earlier one. Indeed, growth consists largely in this very transfer of the thoughts from coerced order to free action, from mechanical constrnction to a living product. Men easily oppose man to God, reason to religion. They are more struck by the bearings of volnntary action, of transgression, than by the order and beanty of constitntional powers. iRea- son is the highest creation of God; its right action the noblest exhibition of his work. It is to reason that God commends all his ways, and when reason is complete within itself, and met in all its demands, perfection is absolnte. We nrge the present view of inspiration because we deem it profoundly rational. It is not rational to insert in a series of natural agencies working toward a natural end, a snpcrnatural term. Snch a term is unnecessary; without proof, and pro- foundly disturbing. Now, the knowledge of the higher truths of religion by men is a thoroughly natural result, pro- vided for by an extended accumulation of natural means. This process of comprehension does not admit of interruption or of acceleration by force beyond itself. Of all coherent movements, that of conviction is the most coherent. Outside action is simply disturbance and arrest. One can not be taught to walk by being forcibly swept over the ground; much less can he learn in this way to see and feel and under- stand divine truth. The more mechanical idea, therefore, of revelation always conceives revelation to be made up of easily intelligible trnths in some way hidden from man, and which simply call for declaration. It fails to regard revelation as a disclosure of profound principles everywhere open to us, but rarely seen or understood by us; truths into which we grow and by which we grow. The mind in search of authority in VOL. VIII. 7 98 Jn8piratwn. [Jan., inspiration is haunted by the idea of the easy intelligibility of divine things, of a sensible veil that lies between us and theni, and which is waiting to be withdrawn. Plainly the things which are in this manner hidden from us are those on which revelation bestows very little strength. Unman history takes its ordinary chances in the Biblical narrative; and super- sensible facts remain without description. The one purpose of the canon, that which unites its very diverse parts, is the desire to lead the soul to God; to call out its powers of com- prehension in this direction; to give unity of results in these higher passages of thought. This relation of the mind to the truth is not altered by the fact that religions truth is addressed to the feelings as well as to the thoughts; and that both are terms in its comprehension. Reason with us means not one act or one method of knowl- edge, but the entire constitution of the mind, fitting it to feel and know, know and feel, in one complex, appreciative act. Color has as certainly to do with revelation in the physical world as white light; affections are as necessary a part of higher knowledge as insights. But affections demand in- sights, and lead to deeper insights. An emotional process that separates itself from its fitting intellectual terms will shortly miscarry even on its emotional side. What the Christian world greatly needs to learn is to uniformly sustain these two processes of emotion and contem- plationwhich are truly oneby each other. Nor does the fact that belief is in most minds the product of historic and social forces that have received no explicit and sufficient state- ment in terms of reason alter the relation of inspiration to religious truth. In the degree in which faith, belief, is occu- pied with the correction and justification of opinion by reason, will it demand clear conceptions; and in the degree in which it is an energy, rooted in the constitution of the mind and in its social dependencies, it is not referable to supernatural inspi- ration, but to an immense aggregate of obscure natural ten- dencies. The theory of inspiration now urged, as in itself the most reasonable, leads also to the most reasonable results. There no sooner arises a higher criticisni, that is, a bolder and freer criti 18854 Jn8p& ration. 99 cism, than it comes in conflict at once with the ordinary notion of inspiration; and an antagonism springs up between them. We may not accept all the results of this criticism; we may in fact accept comparatively few of them; but the inquiry, the sifting, the judging go on the more rapidly and success- fully when depth and freedom of insight are felt to be the one condition of discerning the truth and of inspiration under the truth. The moment the mind is subjected to any pressure, its vision becomes fantastic, like that of a distorted eye-ball. Religious thought is especially liable to extravagant foruis; and this fact is largely due to the current theory of inspiration. When one feels that he must enforce his conviction by pure reason, he will be attentive to reason; but when he can evoke a divine authority for any foolish literalism he may entertain, there is no end to the possibilities of absurdity. No branch of knowledge, therefore, shows so many, so fantastic and so vio- lent freaks of thought as religion. This view of revelation is also the most reverential. It reverences God in his great work of creation and historic guidance; and it inquires devoutly into this guidance, expect- ing to learn more and more concerning it, and to share increas- ingly, day by day, its manifold impulses. The mind feels profoundly that it has not attained the truth; that it knows nothing as yet perfectly; that it has ever occasion to press forward to the mark of its high calling. When revelation, in its current interpretation, seems to it in conflict with reason, that is with other forms of well understood truth, it does not venture on tIme presumption of enforcing this interpretation. It says at once, Here is some error. Truth is never in conflict with itself, never otherwise than admirable, nothing less than pure light. We must hold our conclusions in abeyance, till we attain farther and better knowledge. Some systems of theology seem to delight in saddling absurdities, incongruities, and even tyrannies, on the divine scheme, as if they thereby made signal their own faith,their faith in accepting such an incompatible compound of incongruous ideas. True reverence will say, We have not yet reached the truth. Let us wait till we understand the subject, till it justifies itself to reason. If a 100 rn~iratmn. [Jan., friend is accused of tergiversation and falsehood, I show my confidence in him to the best advantage, not by defending the alleged actions, bnt by declining to accept the statements without farther inqniry. We believe also that inspiration as the normal activity of the mind under the truthan activity of every measure, never complete, always waiting to be completebest expounds the facts of Scripture. Many portions of Scripture are incon- sistent with any other view; all portions are consistent with this view. The book of Job is a beautiful poem, portraying the perplexed thoughts of good men in reference to the divine government; a perplexity only partially overcome. Proverbs, in large parts of it, stands for just such a collection of current moral insight and practical wisdom as finds parallels in the history of any cultivated nation. Ecelesiastes is made up of profound error and those flashes of light which are not wholly shut out by a perverted view. There is no more atheistic sentiment than the refrain, Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. When we judge Gods work in that fashion, we are far from him. Solomons Song is an erotic poem of literary merit, yet trembling on the verge of excess. We the more readily undertake this enforcement of later and, as we believe, larger convictions concerning the holy canon, because they favor a more rational doctrine of the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Truth. A great deal of what we can hardly characterize otherwise than as superstition, lingers in the average Christian mind regarding the action of the Holy Spirit. Christians pray often and earnestly for an out-pouring of the Holy Spirit. There is perhaps no one petition which is more constant with the devout spirit. This prayer, then, should be thoroughly understood, both in its own meaning and in the conditions which it calls for. A very just and pure sentiment usually underlies this prayer; yet the petition often lacks that clear insight and well-ordered action, which are requisite to make it effectual as well as fervent. There are psychological, social, historical forces which concur in a marked degree in any extended and fnll out-pouring of the Holy Spirit; that is, in any movement in which religious truth gains a fresh hold on the minds and hearts of men. Religious men 1885.1 inspiration. 101 are so wedded to favorite phrases, and so rarely inqnire with carefulness what they cover, that they experience a certain shock in hearing an out-pouring of the Divine Spirit termed a psychological, social, and historic fact. Nor would we wish to recommend the expression except as drawing renewed atten- tion to words losing force by frequent nse. We must often shift our language, if we wish to reach the ideas that underlie it. The constitution of the human mind and of society, and the general procedure of salvation, are all involved in any marked action of truth. So-called out-pourings are often of a transient and ineffective order, because these lines of con- ditions do not concur in them. A sympathetic and narrowly social movement, called a revival, often fails, at least in part, of its object, because it is no more deeply implanted in the thoughts of men, or in the order of events. Paul was truly inspired, was habitually at work with the Divine Spirit, because psychological, social, and historical forces were pro- foundly and constantly felt by him. The reformation was an epoch in human development, because these same forces, through such a stretch of time and over so large a territory, concurred in it. IRevivals call for nothing more urgently than for this close union with the current thoughts of men, the present relations of society, and the moral forces historic in the times. A revival, truly rational, in which reason is raised to the fervor of insight and obedience, is our constant want, and the highest fruit of the Holy Spirit. God is revealed in the physical world. He has also been revealed in a high and peculiar sense in the rational world in the soul of man, in Christ. But there is another revelation, we have been told, even more needful than this, the revelation of the Spirit of Truth. This revelation we believe to be the sense of an invisible, pervasive presence of wisdom and of love,of reason working toward all high ends of lifefound in all things, separately and conjointly, informing them all in their unfolding, and bearing them all onward both in inward spiritual force and outward form toward the Kingdom of Heaven. This is the doctrine of the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Truth. There is no admissible antithesis between the physical facts of the world hourly developing under a spiritual life, 102 In8piratiOn. [Jam, daily pushed into higher ministrations under the comprehen- sive, divine thought, and the Spirit of Truth. The revelation of that Spirit is the breaking down of any such antitheses, is the discovery of a universal, spiritual presence, the concurrent force of all relations, the propelling energy of all events, and the final light of reason falling upon them all, disclosing them all as of unmeasured spiritual scope and grace. A doctrine of the Holy Spirit which plants us in the world, as acting on us and acted on by us; in society, as waiting to be built up in the beauty of holiness; in history, as the active expression of the divine method and work, and so helps us to find and feel everywhere the informing divine life, is a sending unto us the Divine Comforter. It is not words that we want, but words that have the force of laws, and which disclose the historic facts about us on their spiritual side. This was the part the prophets played. They interpreted the moral world that then was to itself; they saw from what it had sprung and to what it was leading. Their words laid hold on the inner force of facts; they involved insight and called out insight. Any man is prophetic who thus penetrates to the spiritual principles that are operative about him. Science has greatly changed the world. Instead of an opaque mass with, here and there, some orderly construction wrought out upon it, it has become transparent to intellectual light. The light penetrates it in all directions, and in all directions it is radiant with ideas. Poetry transfigures the world still more emotionally. Passion and affection, pure and tender sentiment, are felt as everywhere present in it, and it throbs with a life answering to all that is most subtle and spiritual in the life of man. IReligious insight is not science nor poetry simply. It is both science and poetry carried into the highest fields of thought; and there, with no loss of knowledge, breaking bounds, overleaping the hard limits of proof, and extending themselves into the region of faith and love. What the seed is in its exact anatomy to the flower, in its color, odor, beauty, and rapid changes of form, that exact knowledge is, under spiritaal insight, to the thoughts and affections of the pure spirit, flowing freely out, toward and 1885.1 Inspiration. 103 with the light. Science has no measurements for the beauty of the flower, no matter how much it knows about the species to which it belongs. Knowledge gives us no determination of the limits of spiritual life, no matter in how many directions it has settled its underlying conditions. The Spirit of Truith is the spirit of deepest import which abides in the constructive order of the world; in the spiritual constitution of man; in the two in their interaction in the grand historic flow of events in which they unite, and which they carry forward toward the iKingdoin of Heaven. Insight, interpretation, a mind and heart that keep step with progress; that move rhythmically with the divine thought; to whom all things are a revelation,a word spoken from the depth of the divine wisdomthis is inspiration, and an inspiration to which an Omnipresent Spirit is ever ministering. Some clouds are succulent of light and color. They seem to drink them up from the clear heavens about them. They lie restfully in the light; they give forth what is given them in new volume and with new glory. They are an image of the tenuous thoughts, the extended sensibilities of an inspired spirit, gathering form within themselves, and reposing tran- quilly in the light of the spiritual world. Truth is not remote, revelation is not wanting; all that we need is a spiritual nature that can receive the truth, that can walk with God in the garden of the world, that can live and move and have its being in the divine presencethe Spirit of Truth. IRighteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit; is not this righteousness, peace, and joy in those things and with those events which encompass us as the divine will Nature awakes! a raptarous tone. Still different, still the same, Eternal effluence from the throne Of Him without a name. 104 The Old Acadenmes. [Jan., ARTICLE VII.THE OLD ACADEMIES. I As several old academies have had public celebrations the past year, it may be a matter of interest to notice some facts respecting their history and character. What are we to under- stand by the term Academy and the phrase Old Acad- emies ? The term academy had its origin 2250 years ago. It was the name of a grove near Athens where Plato taught those who came to him for instruction. The word has been adopted in nearly all countries, and is used at the present day in a variety of ways, as, for illustration, academy of arts and sciences, academy of music, academy of medicine, etc. But the term academy, placed at the head of this paper, has a different application. It refers to a class of educational institutions which started in the times of the revolutionary war. It is very important that we have a clear and definite idea of their origin and character. In 1763 a school was started in Byfleld in Massachusetts, called the Dunimer School. In 1778 another school was started at Andover, Mass., called the Phillips School, but in October, 1780, this name was changed, and the institution was incorporated by the general court as Phillips Academy. No reasons for this change are given in the life of Mr. Phillips nor in the pro- ceedings of the general court. It is evident Mr. Phillips and other parties interested consulted together on the snbject, and, as the term academy had been applied to a class of educational institutions in England, supported by the dissenters, they decided to apply the same name to a similar class of schools in New England. Thus, in 1782, the Dummer School at Byfield was incorporated as Dummer Academy, and in 1784 a new school at Leicester was incorporated as Leicester Academy. In 1782, an academy was established at Exeter, N. II., called also Phillips Academy, after the Hon. John Phillips, who gave liberally for its endowment. This school has been dis- tinguished for having had only three or four principals from

104 The Old Acadenmes. [Jan., ARTICLE VII.THE OLD ACADEMIES. I As several old academies have had public celebrations the past year, it may be a matter of interest to notice some facts respecting their history and character. What are we to under- stand by the term Academy and the phrase Old Acad- emies ? The term academy had its origin 2250 years ago. It was the name of a grove near Athens where Plato taught those who came to him for instruction. The word has been adopted in nearly all countries, and is used at the present day in a variety of ways, as, for illustration, academy of arts and sciences, academy of music, academy of medicine, etc. But the term academy, placed at the head of this paper, has a different application. It refers to a class of educational institutions which started in the times of the revolutionary war. It is very important that we have a clear and definite idea of their origin and character. In 1763 a school was started in Byfleld in Massachusetts, called the Dunimer School. In 1778 another school was started at Andover, Mass., called the Phillips School, but in October, 1780, this name was changed, and the institution was incorporated by the general court as Phillips Academy. No reasons for this change are given in the life of Mr. Phillips nor in the pro- ceedings of the general court. It is evident Mr. Phillips and other parties interested consulted together on the snbject, and, as the term academy had been applied to a class of educational institutions in England, supported by the dissenters, they decided to apply the same name to a similar class of schools in New England. Thus, in 1782, the Dummer School at Byfield was incorporated as Dummer Academy, and in 1784 a new school at Leicester was incorporated as Leicester Academy. In 1782, an academy was established at Exeter, N. II., called also Phillips Academy, after the Hon. John Phillips, who gave liberally for its endowment. This school has been dis- tinguished for having had only three or four principals from 1885.1 The Old Academtes. 105 its commencement, and, for fitting so many young men for Harvard University. As we are more familiar with the his- tory of these institutions in Massachusetts our discussion of the subject will be confined chiefly to this State. Between the years 1780 and 1784 twelve academies were incorporated in Massachusetts. This was a most eventful period in history. It was at the close of the revolutionary war, when great interests were at stake, involving the highest welfare of the people. War-times had developed strong men men of extraordinary talent and character. Though the clergy in earlier times had been foremost in their influence, it happened at this period that laymen took the lead in directing not only the affairs of State, but in moulding and establishing educational institutions. The projection and incorporation of these academies was in a great measure the work of their hands. Our Puritan fathers were wise and sagacious men. From their early training and knowledge of institutions in their fatherland, they saw the importance of establishing educational institutions here upon a right basis. They had a profound appreciation of learning, of fine scholarship in the classics and of a thorough knowledge of the higher English branches. They knew what such attainments were in the old country, and the influence they had upon society there. They saw the importance of establishing schools in this country whereby young men could be trained up and become scholars of the highest order. The result of the course laid out proved their wisdom and forethought. The word old, applied here to academy, is very appro- priately used, as four of these institutions have already cele- brated their centennials. Another reason for the use of old is that very many of these academies ceased to exist long ago, and some of them continued only a few years after their incor- poration. Besides, such is the rapid change of most organiza- tions at the present day, that those which have existed very many years seem old. In establishing these academies, the founders had certain fundamental points in view which deserve careful consider- ation. They were not intended for any one town or city, but were to be distributed in different localities, so that there 106 The Old Acadernws. [Jan., might be from 30,000 to 40,000 inhabitants in the immediate region of each school. It was intended that they should be endowed by the State or by the contributions of individuals, to such an extent as to command the highest class of teachers, and at the same time pupils should pay a moderate tuition. It was intended that they should be governed by a board of trustees, residing in different localities and composed partly of learned men in the professions and partly of laymen skilled in finance and successful in business, all giving their services from their deep interest in education. These academies were to be open to all classesalike to the rich and the poor, without distinction shown to rank, race, or sect. Young men were to be thoroughly fitted in these academies for the college or university, and others in the higher English branches for teachers or departments of business. These academies came in between the university and the common or grammar schools, making virtually a college for the middling class of people. It was intended that they should be scattered in every conuty throughout the whole State. That the plan of establishing this class of institutions was favorably received by the people, is evident from the fact that a large nnmber were soon incorporated. From 1780 to 1800 there were fourteen academies incorporated, and from that date to 1850, almost one hundred more were incorporated, being located in all parts of the State. The scheme was too popularit was overdone. Almost every large town wanted such a school located in it. The original plan was not strictly adhered to, and it was soon discovered that there were alto- gether too many academies. Several that were incorporated never went into operation; others had a short existence. Some were changed in character and became female semina- ries, and others were converted into high schools. Some of these academies, being favorably located and adhering to the original plan, flourished for many years, but finally from untoward circumstances, were obliged to suspend. Others having endowments and being wisely managed have had a very successful career, and are still prospering. But what has operated to the injury of these academies more than anything else, has been the general introduction of high schools into all large places. 1885.1 The Old Acadenmes. 107 The establishment of high schools was encouraged by boards of education, and sought for very generally by the people. In completing the common school system this grade of schools seemed necessary, especially in cities. As high schools were brought virtually to the doors of the people and their advan- tages were furnished free of expense to all, it was natural that they should be well patronized and in time, displace private schools. Thus a majority of the academies were saperseded by high schools in this State, but iu other States where the high school has not been so generally introduced, many of the academies have flourished. A few in our own State have had a prosperous career and may still be said to be in a flourishing condition. The fact that so many of these academies have run out or been displaced by the high school, furnishes no evidence that these institutions did not possess real merit, nor that they did not do a great work. In some respects these institutions possessed certain advantages superior to those of the high school, and therefore are deserving a thoughtful con- sideration. It may be well to state definitely what the objects of their founders were: 1. Our Puritan fathers intended that these academies should be so located that no one place could monopolize their advan- tages. 2. They intended that there should be sufficient endowment so as to reduce the expense of tuition, and thus encourage per- sons of moderate means. They did not believe in furnishing such education as an entire gratuity to young people. 3. They believed that a decided moral and religious training should l)e made a part and parcel of this higher education for the young. 4. In establishing these academies they aimed to make pro- visions whereby a high standard of scholarship, both classical and English, could be obtained. ~. A fundamental principle governing our Puritan fathers in establishing these academies was that their advantages should be brought within the reach of all classes alike, without the least distinction. 6. It was intended that the government of these academies 108 like Old Aeademie8. [Jan., should be placed in a board of trustees residing in different localities, and appointed on account of special qualifications. These six principles were fundamental. An examination into the history of these academies, especially of those which have proved successful, will show that they were pre~minently governed by these principles. We believe these academies were the best institutions ever devised for educating young women and young men so as to secure the highest objects of life. We might refer to the results as the fruits of their history. If we could cite the example or summon the testi- mony of the thousands and ten thousands who have graduated at these academies, what evidence or demonstrations could be more conclusive? But the reasons, the why and the where- fore, for the superiority of this class of schools, may prove more instructive than the largest possible array of personal example and testimony. In giving these reasons, it may not be unprofitable to compare certain features, or factors in the academy with corresponding points in the high school, which, in most places throughout the State, has superseded or taken the place of the academy. At this point of the discussion it should be premised that the age from twelve to eighteen, in every young man or young woman, is the most critical, the most important period in education. The whole future life depends much upon the habits formed, the motives governing, and the standards, moral and intellectual, that are brought to influence the pupil at this age. Character is formed more rapidly and permanently during these years than at any other time. It is a period when growth and changes, the greatest and most radical, take place in the physical system, which have a powerful influence upon success in after life. The importance of securing a sound and vigorous constitution and developing all parts of the body cannot be over-estimated. To do this the muscles must be exer- cised, while in a state of growth. The individual should be more or less thrown upon his own resources, and be encouraged, if not compelled, to a certain extent, to take care of himself, or herself, it is only in this way that physical strength and health can be secured. The brain should not be developed at the expense of the body. While pursuing studies and 1885.] The Old Acaden~es. 109 obtaining knowledge, special pains should be taken that the physical system receive its proper growth and strengththat the physical and mental be developed and trained harmoniously. This important fact should constantly be borne in mind, that when young men and young women reach the age of fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen, they should begin to think and act fQr themselves. While they may be guided in their plans and assisted in carrying them out, they should be thrown more or less upon their own resources. Their highest interests demand it. Two or three years at this period constitute frequently the crises, the turning points, which decide the whole life and character of young persons. Now the academy possessed the means and furnished the appeals which were adapted to arouse the energies and excite the ambition of young people. It was peculiarly calculated to suggest new motives for study and activity, and start inqui- ries in the minds of the young, if they ought not to make and do something in the world. They can attend the academy one term, one year, or more ; but they must pay tuition, furnish books, and make provision for board. This requires physical exercise and mental energy, combined with self-reliance. lilt may be the young man or woman must find temporarily a new home and make new acquaintances. In the academy the pupils come together all on an equality, without distinction as to family or means, forming a pure democracy. In establishing the academy system our Puritan fathers did not believe that education should be entirely a gratuitous commodity. The question of free schools and free tuition was discussed at the very start of these academies, and they decided to adopt no such course. They believed that the common school, or primary and grammar, should be free to all, and should be supported by taxation, but when the pupil had passed through these schools, and wished to secure higher instruction, he should pay something towards it. At that age, he has reached a period when he can earn something and help himself. This raises a very practical and important question. What is the effect upon body and mind of free, continuous schooling of young persons till eighteen or twenty years of age. While there may be the advantages of a superior education obtained, 110 The Old Acadernie8. there are radical evils. The young person during all this time is dependent upon his parents. His wants are supplied without much exertion or self-denial; he is not induced or compelled to make plans or calculations for future life. The young man or woman grows up with a weak body, a very active brain and a predominance of the nervous temperament, a species of physical degeneracy. Hard work, close confinement, self-de- nial, and an economical manner of living do not suit the organ- ization of a person thus trained. His tastes, his wants, and the style of living sought are not so easily obtained or satisfied. Such an education is not sufficiently practical, nor healthful, nor self-supporting, but is too theoretical, too artificial and fashionable. There is another element which the academies formerly taught, and do generally at the present day, the formation of a high-toned moral and religious character. No educational sys. tem is complete or develops properly the mental faculties with- out some positive moral and religious instruction. This was a marked feature, a primary object, in the organization of the old academy, and in all those institutions that still exist and flourish, religious instruction and influence are prominent features. The education of the intellect alone is not a wise or safe course to pursue. The strongest and most powerful motives for influencing human action and character come from the moral and religious faculties; and therefore in no educa- tional system, especially in the higher class of schools, should the training of these faculties be ignored or neglected. Such a course does not harmonize with the laws of the physical system or with the highest order of mental development. While educating the intellectual faculties the moral and religious should at the same time be so trained as to bring the individual under the highest class of motives. In this way only can the body and mind be developed to their fullest extent. In preparing for the duties and responsibilities of life, it is of the highest importance that the right kind of education be secured. There are things to be learned and acquisitions to be made which are of more value than mere book-knowledge. As an educator, the old academy possessed in this respect 1885.] The Old Academi~es. lit superior advantages. It taught the value of learning, that it cost something; that the pupil who paid for it, who made some exertion, some self-denial to secure it, made a far better use of such knowledge. The old academy was peculiarly cal- culated to develop a manliness of character and to beget an ambition, a determination to make and do something. In examining the history of men or women who have reached very prominent positions in society or become at all distinguished as writers or scholars, we find almost invariably th~it in early life they had to exert themselves, practice self- denial and overcome many obstacles. The secret of their suc- cess and distinction arose from habits early formed, from the fact that they were obliged to help themselves. In this way a stronger and more healthy physical system is developed, con- nected with a will-power, an energy and self-reliance which are indispensable for success. It may be said that the academy as an educator was better adapted to former times and not so well suited to the present day, when population is far more condensed and greater num- bers relatively are seeking a higher education who have not the means. It may be said, too, that the best interests of society and of the State demand that education in its broadest extent should be generously provided for all, by taxation, com- pelling those who have means and no families or children to contribute to it. While we would appreciate the vast amount of good which high schools have accomplished, and are still doing, we cannot regard the system as perfect or devoid of all inherent evils. In a brief summary of these evils, onr remarks will be con- fined to three points: 1. Its charitable aspect or freedom from expense. The prin- ciple is the same, and human nature is governed by the same laws, as when, one hundred years ago, our Puritan ancestors decided that education above what the common school afforded should not be entirely gratuitous. When young men or young women reach an age that they can earn money and become self- supporting, if they wish to pursue studies with special refer- ence to the professions, to public business or the higher walks of life, is it not for their interests, as well as just to others, 112 The Old Acadenne8. [Jan., that they should pay something towards it? Does it accord with human nature generally, or more especially can young people be expected to appreciate and turn to the best account favors bestowed upon them without any exertion on their own part, for which they render neither equivalent or acknowledg- ment? What greater favors or richer gifts than the immense expenses of the high school? 2. The costs of the high school, it is safe to say, border on extravagance, certainly in many instances. No complaint of this kind can be brought against the old or new academy. The expenses here come mainly from the contributions of indi- viduals. The buildings are simple and generally inexpensive. The salaries of teachers are moderate, and the tuition required of students is considerably less, we think, than the cost of instruction in the high school, though we have not the figures at hand to make the comparison. The extravagance is marked in the erection of buildings, especially in cities. 3. But one of the greatest, the most powerful arguments against the high school is its effect upon the physical system. It begets a predominance of the brain and nerve tissue with- out developing or strengthening the muscles, which are indis- pensable in order to discharge successfully the duties of life. It has been stated that the years from twelve to eighteen in every young man or woman are the most important period for physical development. Scarcely any high school makes pro- vision by way of gymnastics or other means for physical exer- cise and health. This argument will not be appreciated because physiology in all its relations to mind, to health and life is not understood as it should be. Let one thoroughly and impartially investi- gate this argument in all its bearings, he will become con- vinced not only of its truth, but that it has an importance and far-reaching influence that cannot easily be computed. The community at large and the present generation are not the only sufferers from this mode of education. In order to make the most of human life and character, and at the same time secure the greatest amount of happiness, a sound body, well trained and preserved, is indispensable. Such an organization is also surely necessary in order to transmit qualities that will ennoble and exalt the character of those who come after us. 1885.1 Current Events. CURRENT EVENTS. TN the first years of the NEW ENGLANDER it was the custom to furnish, iu each number, comments on such current events as might be snpposed to be of interest to its readers. These comments appeared nnder the heading of HOME AF- FAIRS, DOMESTIC AFFAIRS, CURRENT EVENTS, and FOREIGN AFFAIRS. In resuming this practice at the beginning of a new year, it seems desirable to call attention to the official an- nouncement published in the annual catalogue of Yale College, of the change which has recently been made in the curriculum of academic study. No more important change has been made in the whole history of the institution; and it is one that will be regarded with interest by all friends of the higher educa- tion. In order that a reliable account of what has been done might be given to our readers, as a basis for further considera- tion, the editors have thought it important that the new curriculum should be described by some one who is practically conversant with the subject. They have accordingly requested Professor Ladd to prepare the following pages to accompany the tables and notes which appear in the catalogue just pub- lished. It is expected that in the coming numbers of the New Englander, further explanations will be given and comments made by other officers and friends of the University. EDS. NEW ENGLANDER. VOL. VIII. 8 114 Cwrriculum~ at Yale. [Jan., ARTICLE 1.THE RECENT CHANGE IN TIlE ACADEMIC CURRICULUM AT YALE. Pages 12212~ of the, present number of the NEW ENGLANDER are copied from pages 5862 of the Catalogue of Yale College for 188485; they contain the table and descriptive notes which present and briefly explain the Elective Courses now open to Juniors and Seniors of the Academical Department. They there- fore exhibit partially a change in the course of study and instruc- tion in that department which all the graduates of the College will probably regard as the most important and comprehensive one of the kind made at any single time during the history of the College. The plau of the new course was perfected during the College year of 1883-84, and inaugurated, so far as was possible for the first year of its trial, at the beginning of the current term. The design of the following paper is simply to state the facts with regard to the grounds, nature, and apparent effects of this important change. I. The most definite and influential Reasons for undertaking at once so comprehensive a change, were the following: (1.) It seemed necessary to give the modern languagesor rather these two modern languages, German and Frencha new position and emphasis in the course of College instruction. Without contesting at all the claim of the ancient classics to be superior to all other literature for serving certain purposes of culture by the study of language, the fact was also recognized that a working knowledge of German and French has become almost indispensable to the modern student. Such a knowl- edge, however, caunot well be gained by beginning one of these languages so late in the College course as the Junior year, and then continuing this language for only a single year in connec- tion with more exacting studies; the time to begin the modern languages lies further back. It also seemed very desirable that at least the more forward and earnest of the students should be able to use these languages with some freedom in the studies of the later years of their College course. (2.) It seemed necessary to relieve the Senior year from the extreme pressure of multiform new, interesting and difficult studies, into which it had been brought by the great growth of

114 Cwrriculum~ at Yale. [Jan., ARTICLE 1.THE RECENT CHANGE IN TIlE ACADEMIC CURRICULUM AT YALE. Pages 12212~ of the, present number of the NEW ENGLANDER are copied from pages 5862 of the Catalogue of Yale College for 188485; they contain the table and descriptive notes which present and briefly explain the Elective Courses now open to Juniors and Seniors of the Academical Department. They there- fore exhibit partially a change in the course of study and instruc- tion in that department which all the graduates of the College will probably regard as the most important and comprehensive one of the kind made at any single time during the history of the College. The plau of the new course was perfected during the College year of 1883-84, and inaugurated, so far as was possible for the first year of its trial, at the beginning of the current term. The design of the following paper is simply to state the facts with regard to the grounds, nature, and apparent effects of this important change. I. The most definite and influential Reasons for undertaking at once so comprehensive a change, were the following: (1.) It seemed necessary to give the modern languagesor rather these two modern languages, German and Frencha new position and emphasis in the course of College instruction. Without contesting at all the claim of the ancient classics to be superior to all other literature for serving certain purposes of culture by the study of language, the fact was also recognized that a working knowledge of German and French has become almost indispensable to the modern student. Such a knowl- edge, however, caunot well be gained by beginning one of these languages so late in the College course as the Junior year, and then continuing this language for only a single year in connec- tion with more exacting studies; the time to begin the modern languages lies further back. It also seemed very desirable that at least the more forward and earnest of the students should be able to use these languages with some freedom in the studies of the later years of their College course. (2.) It seemed necessary to relieve the Senior year from the extreme pressure of multiform new, interesting and difficult studies, into which it had been brought by the great growth of 1885.1 Curriculum at Yale. 115 the College. For a score of years the number of new instructors and departments of instruction had been rapidly multiplying. The introduction of an increased variety of studies and of the more exacting modern way of pursuing those studies, had over- burdened Senior year. New courses in philosophy, political science, law, and history,considered as belonging especially to the finishing year of the College conrse,had been crowded into this time; and the ancient classics, the physical and natural sciences, and the polite literature of modern times, were all justly complaining that even those students who ardently desired to pursue such subjects in advanced lines of study, were debarred from doing so by the prescribed courses of the year. The de- mand for a change in the studies of Senior year was obvious and pressing. (3.) Closely connected with the foregoing reason for change was another. Th~ same causes which had operated to crowd the Senior year with varied new studies, had also made a consider- able part of the whole College course somewhat heterogeneous and wanting in constructive plan. It seemed impossible to many of the teachers themselves to give an adequate reason why some branches should be required in the course rather than others, or why just such a place and just so much of time should be allotted to this particular study rather than to another. A strong desire was therefore felt to take some decided step toward the unifying of the plan of instruction in accordance with certain fixed and defensible principles. (4.) It was the conviction of the most experienced teachers of the College that more allowance should be made for the tastes, contemplated pursuits, and aptitudes of the individual student. It was still the judgment of much the greater number of these teachers that the earlier part of a College course should consist chiefly, if not wholly, of prescribed and so-called disciplinary studies. But it was also their judgment that much larger freedom of choicewith as little inducement or chance for caprice, change from unworthy motives and self-indulgent ease as is possihie should be given to students in the later part of this course. Moreover, the former system of allowing Juniors and Seniors only four hours per week of optional study was evidently work- ing to the great injury of certain departments of instruction. It was nearly impossible to induce students who had only such limited choice, to exercise it for the continued study of the 116 Curriculum at Yale. [Jan., ancient classics, or of the physical sciences, or of mathematics, or of philosophy. Even those especially fond of such subjects left them when they were brought into competition with other new and attractive studies, the opportunity to pursue which had never come before in the life of the student, and would probably never come again. These four considerations of fact were the definite and almost compulsory reasons for instituting a comprehensive change. II. The Nature of the change actually accomplished by the new course of study was determined by the reasons above men- tioned. (1.) German and French are now placed at the beginning of the College course, and given a larger amount of time in the prescribed studies of the first two years of this course, together with increased opportunity for pursuing them further at the option of the student. On and after 1885, every candidate for admission to College must present either German or French, at his option, and show ability to translate at sight easy prose in the language which he chooses to present. Not to increase suddenly and too much the burden of preparation for the College, a slight but temporary reduction was made in the amount of Latin, Greek, and Mathematics, required for admission. In Freshman year (in and after 18856) every student is required to take one of these two modern languages, three hours a week for twenty-three weeks, and two hours a week for the rest of the year, with a choice between advanced French, advanced German, and ele- mentary German. In Sophomore year every student is required to take one of the same modern languages two hours a week through the entire year, with the same kind of choice between them. After the close of Sophomore year any student may elect courses in modern languages for Junior and Senior years, from the following tables, under the conditions which belong to the studies of those years. The time used for the required study of German or French in the Freshman and Sophomore years was gained by an equal reduction of the time formerly allowed to each of the studies still prescribed for those years; namely, from Latin, Greek, and Mathematics. It is now required, then, of every graduate of the College that he shall have studied a modern language three years (counting the amount required for prepara- tion to enter the College at one year); and any graduate, if he 1885.] Curriculum at Yale. 117 has so chosen, may have spent the amount of five or more years of study in such language. This plan certainly ought to make all the graduates tolerably familiar with either French or German; it ought also to produce a considerable number of men in each class who will leave the College well equipped to make free and profitable use of works in these languages for assistance in the pursuit of professional studies or of special scientific and literary researches. (2.) The nature of the new course of study, so far as it was planned in view of the last three of the reasons for a change which were enumerated above, may be explained by stating the opportunities and requirements for the Junior and Senior years as now offered and constituted. In both these years certain courses of study are prescribed for all the members of each of these two classes; certain other courses are offered from which a selection can be made. The amount of so-called class-room work in the prescribed courses for Junior year is seven hours per week; in addition to these each member of this class must take eight hours per week in the elective courses of the year (see table p. 122). The amount of class-room work in the one course prescribed for all members of the Senior class is three hours per week; in addi- tion each member of this class must select twelve hours per week from the elective courses of this year (see table p. 123). Of the elective courses, some run through the entire year (whether Junior or Senior) and are marked continued, in the second column on the same line with the statement of the course (see tables.) Such continued courses, when elected cannot be aban- doned during the year. Other elective courses run through only one term. No course can be entered, save at its beginning, unless upon examination and with the consent of the instructor. The prescribed courses of Junior and Senior years are all taken from two general departments of study; namely, from the phys- ical and natural sciences, and from psychological science including Ethics, with kindred considerations upon the Evidences of Religion. To this extent, then, a given amount of time is required by the College to be spent by each student in these departments of study. It may be presumed that this requirement is made upon the principle which regards about so much of just these subjects as an indispensable part of the education to be given by the College. Beyond these subjects, each student may decide for himself what subjects he will pursue; but the College 118 Currienlum at Yale. [Jan., undertakes to say that he must study the subjects of his choice in a certain order and with a certain method, and that he must accomplish in the aggregate at least a certain amount of work before he can graduate. In the physical and natural sciences a thorough course in Physics, and one term each in Astronomy and Geology are prescribed. Physics has incontestable claims to be the one of these sciences to be prescribed (if only one is to be prescribed); since it is fundamental and introductory to all such sciences, and is admirably adapted to do the most desirable thing for every College student,namely, to give him some clear con- ception of science~~ as such and of scientific method. It may be argued that Astronomy should be studied as the best repre- sentative of the application of mathematics to natural phenom- ena; and geology as the most interesting and comprehensive of the descriptive sciences of nature. Psychology and Ethicsor the study of mind as capable of thought and moral actionis prescribed, because such study is fundamental and preparatory to all the studies which deal with man in his relatioiis to himself, to his fellows, an(l to God. They are also indispensable for the formation of intelligent and right opinion upon the most impor- tant subjects. These studies begin with the second term of Junior year and continue, three hours per week, through the entire course; they include the special subjects of Logic, Psy- chology, Ethics, and the Evidences of Religion. It is believed a careful consideration of the new curriculum will show that, in the main, it removes the objections felt to the curriculum xvhich it supercedes; and that it furnishes an opportu- nity for a very stimulating, attractive, and fruitful student life. It seems also, in a commendable degree, to be rational and symmet- rical. It is not claimed or supposed by even those who labored most diligently to institute and perfect it, that it is beyond all objection or final in its form. A perfect and final course of College study is, if not an unattainable ideal, at present an impos- sible achievement. It is also believed that the new course guards carefully and wisely against caprice, shallowness, and that feeling of revolt toward the necessity of paying a large price in patient and continuous industry for all his solid mental attainments, to which the American College student is tempted so strongly. III. The Effects of the new course of study cannot, of course, be spoken of without a certain nppearancc of being premature. 1885.1 Curriculum at Yale. 119 A considerable time will be required to test its more permanent effects. But already those who are most familiar with the facts think they can discern certain indubitable results of its operation. It is a pleasant thing to say that thus far these results are all of the most encouraging kind. (1.) The students have responded with unexpected wisdom and manliness to the new trust which has been placed in them by enlarging so much their power of choice. The word unex- pected is used here as defining the experience even of those who previously had a good expectation of what the students would do if this enlarged power of choice were given to them. The selec- tions of elective courses made by the Juniors and Seniors for the current term have, as a rule, shown surprisingly little disposition to favor solely those options. which are, in college talk, called soft. Doubtless, some have carried out the intention of mak- ing everything as soft as possible for themselves. But the choices, in fact, do not as yet show the existence of any such in- tention in any considerable number of cases; they show rather the very reverse. A statement of the selections made for the current term is here appended. In understanding the statement, the reader should keep in mind that all the Juniors and Seniors have already been required for years to study Latin, Greek, and Math- ematics, and that they know on making their selections that they will be required to study for two years more certain subjects in the departments of physical science and psychology. The options in these subjects are, therefore, choices to take more than a certain con- siderable amount of work required in such subjects. The numbers of the statement indicate choices, and are to be interpreted as showing how the different elective courses were patronized, so to speak, by the 125 Seniors and the 149 Juniors of the undergradu- ate Academical Department. In Mental and Moral Science there were 72 choices22 in Phy- siological Psychology, 30 in the History of Philosophy, 20 in Logic; all in the Senior Class. In Political Economy there were 112 choices in the two courses open; all in the Senior Class. In English History there were 127 choices among the Seniors, and 63 in Roman History among the Juniors. In the Modern Lan- guages, including the study of English Literature, there were 447 choices made by both Juniors and Seniors; and of these, 75 were in advanced German, 40 in advanced French, 30 in ad- vanced English,ahnost all among the Seniors, and 101 in Ele 120 Curriculum at Yale. [Jan., mentary German, 80 in Elementary French, 96 in Elementary English,almost all among the Juniors. [When the new course of study is in full operation with respect to the modern languages, neither elementary French nor elementary German will he offered in Junior year, and, all, the students having had two years of the modern languages already required in the college course by the close of Sophomore year, the num- ber of choices in these languages will be largely diminished.] In the Classics and Linguistics there were 73 choices, of which 34 were in Latin, and 39 in Greek,these classes being com- posed of both Juniors and Seniors. In Natural and Physical Science there were 103 choices, of which 78 were in Geology. [In this case also the numbers are likely to be diminished next year, when the Senior Class will already have had a term of Geology prescribed in their Junior year.] In MaVhematics there were 17 choices. (2.) The new course relieves the instructors of the two lower classes from two hoursor in some cases, from three hoursof work per week in teaching the required studies of those classes. They are thus enabled and encouraged to offer to the upper classes optional courses in the subjects to which they have given especial attention. These courses enrich the opportunities fur- nished by the College, and the preparation of them is a stimulus and discipline to the instructors themselves. Other instructors may employ the time thus secured in giving advanced instruction to those members of the Freshman and Sophomore classes who come best prepared, or are, for other reasons, able to make more rapid advancement than their fellows. (3.) Increased willingness in study, and even a new and marked enthusiasm on the part of a considerable number of the students, is another effect of the new course already realized. Nothing could prove this more conclusively than the fact that the choices of the Senior class for next term show fully forty per cent. of the men to have voluntarily chosen more work than they are required to take. It is the testimony of the instructors in general that the entire body of students in the upper classes perhaps especially the Senior classis more attentive, regular, in- terested, and even eager than ever before. (4.) More intimate and effective relations are secured in many cases between teachers and pupils; because the size of the classes can be made smaller, the bond has become more like one of corn- 1885.1 curriculum at Yale. 121 mon interest, and the instruction is made more prolonged (in the courses which run through the entire year) and cumulative. It will probably be found that this new course will in time make large demands upon the Alumni and friends of the College to give funds to extend the range of studies, to increase the number of teachers, and to make the whole College more attract- ive and every way effective than it has hitherto been able to be. The change appeals therefore for a considerate and generous support. C~trriculum at Yale. ELECTIVE COURSES. JuNIoR YEAR. FIRST TERM. SECOND TERM. GROUP. as) Subject. Subject. Q 0. I Mental and 2 Moral Science. 3 4 5 Political 6 Science. ~ - 8 9 so Prof. Tarbell, Greek Hiatory, is Mr. Tighe, Hist. of the Roman Empire~ - - 2 52 Prof. Bendelari, Hist. of Middle Ages, - History. 3 Prof. Dexter, American History, 4 5 i6 57 Mr. Ripley, German - ~ Continued, i8 Mr. Ripley, German, with Seniors 59 Prof. Bendelari, French 3 Continued, 20 Prof Bendelari, Italian, 3 Continued 21 Prof. Knapp, French, with Seniors Modern 22 Mr. Whitney, English Literature, - 3 Languages. s Mr. ~vtcLaughlin, English Litersture,.. 24 Prof. Beers, Anglo-Saxon and English, - - Continued 25 26 27 Prof. Knapp, Spanish, with Seniors 28 29 Prof. Peck, Tacitus 3 Continued, Lucretius and Vergil 30 Prof. Peck, Horace,.~... 3 35 Prof. Peck, Cicero and Quintilian, - -- - - 32 Prof. Peck, Latin Composition, - - 2 Continued 33 Prof. H. P. Wright, Plautus, 2 ~4 Prot. Seymour, Phaedo of Plato, 2 35 Prof. Seymour, Republic of Plato Classics and 36 Prof. Seymour, Pindar 2 Linguistics. 37 Prof. Seymour, Homer 38 Prof. Seymour, Homer 2 39 Prof. Seymour, Greek Inscriptions, - -- - 40 Prof. Seymour, Theocritus, 4 42 43 44 ~ Prof. J. K. Thacher, Zoology,. - - 4 46 Prof. Eaton, Botany 2 47 Natural 48 - and Physical ~ Science. 50 5 52. . - 53 5~ Prof. Richards, Differential Calculus 4 Prof. Newton, Integral Calculus,. - - ~ Prof. Phillips Projections 2 Prof. Phillips, Projections,. - 57 I Mathematics. ~8 Prof. Beebe, Theoretical Astronomy, - - 59 6o 6s 2 2 3 3 3 3 2 3 3 2 2 2 4 2 2 122 [Jan., Curriculum at Yale. ELECTIVE COURSES. SENIOR YEAR. FIRST TERM. SECOND TERM. GROUP. Subject. Subject. a a Q 0. 0. The President, Philosophy, 2 Mental and 2 Prof. Ladd, Physiological Psychology, - - 2 Continued, 2 Moral Science. 3 Prof. Ladd, History of Philosophy, 2 Continued, 2 4 Prof. Tarbell, Logic, - -- - s Prof. Sumner, Pout. Econ.; Short Course, - 3 Political 6 Prof. Sumner, Pout. Econ.; Long Course, ~ Continued, 2 Science. 7 Prof. Sumner, Advanced Pout. Econ., 2 8 Prof. Phelps, Municipal Law, 2 9 Prof. Phelps, International Law 10 Course in open to Seniors Is 12 History. 23 4 Prof. Wheeler, Modern European Hist., - 4 Continued 2 15 Prof. Wheeler, Early Constit. H ist. of Eng. 2 Continued 2 Prof. Wheeler, Constit. Hist. of Eng., 3 7 i8 Mr. Ripley, Advanced German 2 Continued, . -- - 2 29 20 Course 20 open to Seniors Continued 25 Prof. Knapp, Advanced French,. 3 Continued, - - - 3 Modern 22 Languages. 23 24 Course 24 open to Seniors Continued 25 Prof. Beers, English Literature, - - 3 Continued 3 26 Prof. Knapp, Old French, - - 2 Continued, 2 27 Prof. Knapp, Spanish 3 Continued 3 28 Prof. Bendelari. Advanced Italian 3 Continued 3 29 Course 29 open to Seniors Continued 30 Course 30 open to Seniors 31 Course 32 open to Seniors,.. 32 Course 32 open to Seniors, Continued 33 ~ Course 34 open to Seniors 35 Course 35 open to Seniors Classics and 36 Course 36 open to Seniors Linguistics. ~ Course 37 open to Seniors 38 Course 38 open to Seniors 39 Course 39 open to Seniors 40 Prof. T. A. Thacher, Ethics of[a~d Seneca, 41 Cicero 2 42 Prof. T. A. Thacher, Cicero and Seneca, 2 ~ Prof. Whitney, Sanskrit ~ Continued ... 4 44 Prof. Whitney, Linguistics, - - -- 451 46 [Crystallography, ~ Prof. E. S. Dana, Mineralogy and 2 Continued, 2 Natural 48 Prof. A. W. Wright, Physics, Lab. Work, 2 Continued, 2 and Physical ~ Prof. J. D. Dana, Geology 2 [Petro~raphy, Science. 50 Profs. J. D. & E. S. Dana, Geol. & 2 Prof. Loomis, Meteorology 2 52 Prof. Eaton, Pteridology and Bryology, - 2 53 , Chemistry, Lab. Practice, - 4 5~ Course 54 open to Seniors Continued 55 Course 55 open to Seniors, 56 Course ~6 open to Seniors,. - 5~ Prof. Loomis, Practical Astronomy 4 Mathematics. ~8 Course ~8 open to Seniors - 59 [dynamics, Prof. Newton, Calculus, 2 6o Prof. Gibbs, Dynamics and Thermo 2 Continued 2 6i Prof. Gibbs, Statics, 2 1885.] 123 124 Curriculztm at Yale. [Jan., NOTES ON THE ELECTIVE COURSES. The following notes refer by numbers to tbe schedule, and contain the most essential information about the courses, except where the title of the course renders explanation unnecessary. 1. Special topics in Ethics, etc. 2. A study (illustrated by charts and models) of the human nervous mechanism, of the principal relations which exist between changes in this mechanism and the activities of the mind, and a discussion of the conclusions which may be drawn from these relations respecting the nature and laws of the mind. 3. A brief survey of the development of philosophical thinking from its beginning among the Greeks down to the modern era, a somewhat extended presentation of the philosophy of Kant, by expository lectures upon his works, and a study of several of the more important writers since the time of Kant. 4. Mills System of Logic; a discussion of Mills theories of Deduction, Induction, Explanation, and Hypothesis. 5 and 6. Lessons in Fawcett (short course) and Mill (long course) and in Richardsons National Banks (both courses), with discussions and lectures, especially on currency, banking, and taxation. The short course is elementary only. The long course is for those who wish to give more time and labor to this subject. 7. Study and discussion of economic problems and fallacies with selected passages from the leading treatises ;open only to those who have taken course 5 or course 6. S and 9. Courses S and 9 will consist of lectures on the origin, history, and general principles of the Common Law, American Constitutional Law, and International Law, based mainly upon the treatises of Rob- inson, Cooley, and Woolsey, which will be read in connection with the lectures. 10. Outlines of Greek history; in detail, the constitutional history of Athens and the conquests of Alexander. 11. An outline of the history of the Roman Empire from the accession of Antoninus Pius to that of Charlemagne; in detail, 1st, Roman religion to the conversion of Constantine; 2d, Legislation of Justinian; 3d, Rise of Mohammedanism. 12. General history of Continental Europe, mainly France and Ger- many, from the ninth to the fifteenth century; Lewiss History of Germany; Kitchins History of France, Vol. i. 13. A summary view of American history down to 1865. Special attention is directed to the colonial period. 14. First term: History of the French Revolution (Mignet); Fyffes History of Modern Europe, recitations and lectures. Second term: History of Europe since 1815; Mfillers Political History of Recent Times; Walpoles History of England since 1815, recitations and lectures. 1885.] Curriculum at Yale. 125 15. Origin and development of the English Constitution. Stubbss Constitutional History of England; Greens or Brights History of England, vol. 1. Recitations, lectures, and discussions. This course is specially designed for those who intend to study law. 16. History of England during the Tudor and Stuart periods. The conflict between self-government and arbitrary power. Hallams Con- stitutional History of England; Greens or Brights History of England, vol. ii.; with numerous books for reference. Recitations and lectures. 17. Elementary. Whitneys German Grammar. Translation from English into German. Readings from narrative prose authors: Grimm, Andersen, Hauff, Zschokke, Heyse, and others. 18. Readings from historical prose; German ballads and lyrics; sight- translation from Freytag and Zschokke. Freytags Die Journalisten. Selections from Heines prose. 20. Elementary Italian; Toscanis Grammar; de Amicis, La vita militare; Manzoni, Ipromessi sposi; Composition. 21. Choix de lectures dans les auteurs des trois derniers sh~cles, com- position et traduction de langlais; grammaire ~ l6poque de la Ligue et changements survenus depuis; conferences familh~res sur lhist. de la litt~rature. Toute instruction exclusivement en franais d~s la seconde moitk~ du premier semestre. 22. Welshs History of the Development of the English Language and Literature; Lounsburys History of the English Language, Part 1. 23. Selections from the Canterbury Tales; the life of Chaucer and his place in the literature of his age; critical reading of selected plays of Shakspere. 24. A two years course. Anglo-Saxon and Early English; Sweets Anglo-Saxon Reader; Matzners Altenglisehe Sprachproben; Beowulf; Earles History of Anglo-Saxon Literature; tenBrinks Early English Literature. 25. Bacon; Miltons Prose; Sir Thomas Browne; Selections from the British Dramatists; Dryden; Pope; Literature of the 19th century (18301860). 27. First year: Instruction in speaking Spanish, and oral translation from English into Spanish. Sight-reading of modern authors. Com- mercial correspondence. Second year (18856): Spanish literature. Instruction exclusively in Spanish. 28. Advanced Italian; Tasso; Modern Plays; Composition; Dante, Boccaccio. 29. First term: Selections from the first six books of the Annals: the Latinity of the Silver Age; the character and reign of Tiberius. Second term: Critical and exegetical studies in the de reruni natura; papers on the poetry, philosophy, and Latinity of Lucretius; readings from Vergils different works. 30. Satires and Epistles of Horace. 31. Quintilian, Books 10 and 12; Latin literature; Latin philology; rapid readings from Ciceros orations (or rhetorical works); Roman oratory. 32. Writing and speaking Latin. 126 Cmrriculum at Yale [Jan., 34. The Pha?do of Plato as an introduction to the literary and philo- sophical study of Plato. 37. The Iliad of Homer; a rapid reading of its principal parts. 38. Introduction to the critical study of the Homeric poems. Lectures on Epic poetry; the Homeric poems in antiquity and their transmission to the present time; the Homeric dialect and versification; life in the Homeric age. Critical interpretation of the first book of the Iliad. 39. Exercises on the interpretation of Greek inscriptions, based upon Cauers Delectus Inscriptionum Graecarum. 43. A first years instruction in Sanskrit, beginning with the instruc- tors Sanskrit Grammar, and passing on to Professor Lanmans Reader. A sketch of Sanskrit literature will be given in connection with the exercises during the latter part of the year. 44. A series of exercisesmingled lecture, recitation, and discussion on the leading topics of the general study of language, following and using as text-book the instructors Life and Growth of Language, will be given if a class of six or more is formed. 45. Dissection of a small number of typical animals. Lectures on classification of animals. Lectures and recitations on physiology. Huxley and Martins Elementary Biology; Huxleys Elementary Physiology. 46. An elementary course in Structural and Systematic Botany. 47. Practical study of the more important mineral species by means of blowpipe analysis and other methods; mathematical study of crystals by the methods of analytical and spherical geometry; also the optical properties of crystals including the phenomena exhibited by them in polarized Jight. Danas Text Book of Mineralogy, 1882. 48. Chiefly practical work in the physical laboratory, with measure- ments, especially in heat, light, and electricity, each exercise occupying two hours. Recitations of one hour each, upon the theory and methods of physical measurements, will occasionally take the place of the labo- ratory work. Kohlrauschs Physical Measurements; Everetts Units and Physical Constants, etc. 49. Lithological and (in alternate years) Historical or Dynamical Geology. Danas Manual; recitations and field-excursions. 50. Continuation of course 49 during the first half of the second term. In the second half of the second term this course will be continued by Prof. E. S. Dana as a course in Petrography, including the examination of thin sections of rocks under the microscope. Some preliminary work on the optical properties of minerals will be done by the class. 51. Loomiss Meteorology, with daily study of the current weather- maps of the signal service. 52. Limited to six persons who have studied phienogamic Botany. The work will be largely histological, involving the use of the compound microscope. 53. Four exercises a week, of which three are laboratory practice in qualitative and quantitative analysis of three hours each, and one a recitation. 55. Orthographic projection and linear perspective. 1885.] Iewi8 1?. Packard. 127 56. Advanced work in map-projection. 57. Loomiss Practical Astronomy. Students have the free use of a portable transit-instrument for observations. 58. Calculation of orbits, ephemerides, and perturbations. 59. Definite Integrals, Multiple Integrals, Mean Values and Proba- bility, Differential Equations. 60. Tait and Steeles Dynamics of a Particle. Maxwells Theory of Heat. 61. Todhunters Analytical Statics. ARTICLE 11.PROFESSOR LEWIS R. PACKARD. IN the record of those who have lived an honorable life at Yale College and rendered an honorable service to the Univer- sity, the name of Professor LEwIs R. PACKARD deserves a place. A scholar of no ordinary attainments, a teacher whose ability was recognized by the best of his pupils, a college officer of much efficiency and unselfish devotion to the highest interests of the institution, a Christian preacher fitted by his richness of thought and refined taste to meet the wants of cultured minds, he moved onward in his quiet academic career for a quarter of a century, gaining the respect of the entire community and giving to many the elevating thoughts and influences of true scholarly life. The best testimony to what he accomplished is found in the character and lives of those who enjoyed his instructions and his friendship; and they are in all parts of the world and in all lines of useful working. Nothing can be added to what they already know, to tell them what he was. But it is due to his memory that here at his home, and in this Journal which has so often spoken of the life and thoughts of Yale College, a brief story respecting him should be told. There are friends here and every- where, who will fill out its details from their own pleasant recol- lections. The birth-place of Professor Packard was the city of Philadel- phia. The date of his birth was the 22d of August, 1836. His father, the late Frederick A. Packard, Esq., after spending the earlier portion of his mature life in Springfield, Mass., where he was successfully engaged in the practice of the law, removed to Philadelphia in the year 1829. The occasion of his change of residence was his election to the office of Secretary of the Amen-

1885.] Iewi8 1?. Packard. 127 56. Advanced work in map-projection. 57. Loomiss Practical Astronomy. Students have the free use of a portable transit-instrument for observations. 58. Calculation of orbits, ephemerides, and perturbations. 59. Definite Integrals, Multiple Integrals, Mean Values and Proba- bility, Differential Equations. 60. Tait and Steeles Dynamics of a Particle. Maxwells Theory of Heat. 61. Todhunters Analytical Statics. ARTICLE 11.PROFESSOR LEWIS R. PACKARD. IN the record of those who have lived an honorable life at Yale College and rendered an honorable service to the Univer- sity, the name of Professor LEwIs R. PACKARD deserves a place. A scholar of no ordinary attainments, a teacher whose ability was recognized by the best of his pupils, a college officer of much efficiency and unselfish devotion to the highest interests of the institution, a Christian preacher fitted by his richness of thought and refined taste to meet the wants of cultured minds, he moved onward in his quiet academic career for a quarter of a century, gaining the respect of the entire community and giving to many the elevating thoughts and influences of true scholarly life. The best testimony to what he accomplished is found in the character and lives of those who enjoyed his instructions and his friendship; and they are in all parts of the world and in all lines of useful working. Nothing can be added to what they already know, to tell them what he was. But it is due to his memory that here at his home, and in this Journal which has so often spoken of the life and thoughts of Yale College, a brief story respecting him should be told. There are friends here and every- where, who will fill out its details from their own pleasant recol- lections. The birth-place of Professor Packard was the city of Philadel- phia. The date of his birth was the 22d of August, 1836. His father, the late Frederick A. Packard, Esq., after spending the earlier portion of his mature life in Springfield, Mass., where he was successfully engaged in the practice of the law, removed to Philadelphia in the year 1829. The occasion of his change of residence was his election to the office of Secretary of the Amen- 128 Lewis I?. Pacicard. [Jan., can Sunday School Union. He had long been an earnest and active Christian, devoted to the work of the Church, and recog- nized by all as a man of strong mind and eminent usefulness. No more efficient person could, probably, have been found in the country, at that time, for the important place to which he was called. Regarding the invitation as a Divine summons to duty, he abandoned his profession, left the region of his early home, and devoted himself ever afterwards to the Sunday School work. He was a man who had many of the fiuier qualities of the old New England character. He had a striking and conimanding personal appearance, a vigorous intellect, delightful humor, the manners of a cultivated genlileman, the kindly spirit of a loving Christian. His wife, whom he married in 1822, while he was a resident of Springfield, was Elizabeth D. Hooker, eldest daii ghter of Judge John Hooker of that city, and a descendant of the Rev. Thomas 1-looker, the first pastor of the First Church in Hartford. Of these parents Professor Packard was the youngest child. From them both he inherited mental powers of a high order, as well as the refined natuie and virtuous disposition which belong to the nobler order of Christian families. His eaily childhood, and his boyhood until he had reached the age of four- teen, were passed in Philadelphia. But as the time for his special preparation for the college couise arrived, his father deemed it best to give him the advantages of one of the more excellent schools of his own native State. Accordingly he was sent to Northampton, Mass., to an institution of much repute which had been recently established there, and was then under the charge of Mr. Lewis J. Dudley, a scholar of high attainments and a teacher of marked ability. Here he remained until the summer of 1852, when he entered Yale College. lie was, at that time, a youth of sixteen. He had a bright; intelligent face, of more than usual beauty. His dark eye, regular and classic features, animated and eager look, honest and manly beating, arrested the notice and attention of all who saw him. He seemed to be one of the choice / spirits from among whom we could desire that the membership of our college classes might always be composed. Abundantly and thoroughly piepared for the new stage of his education, he at once took a commanding position as a scholar. His mind worked with great quickness and great effectiveness. He readily mastered the difficulties which met him in any branch of his studies. He had clear insight, intelligent perception, vigorous 1885.] Lewi8 1?. Packard. 129 grasp, quiet enthusiasm, earnest desire for knowledge, a wide outlook into the illimitable field. His powers developed, as they do in the case of all bright-minded youths, in the years of his college course, but from the beginning he manifested clearly to those who watched his progress the same mental characteristics which were displayed in later life. It is not remembered that he was more successful in any one particular department of study than in others, but it is believed that, from an early period, he was deeply interested in the classical languages, and especially in the language of ancient Greece. His mind was of the peculiar order which made it natural that the life and history and litera- ture of the Greek race should awaken his enthusiasm. As a student, he won the respect of his instructors and classmates alike. But he was not merely esteemed because he recited well, or because he learned what he had the opportunities to learn. He was successful, also, as a writer while in college, exhibiting the same neatness of style, the same calmness and clearness of thought, and the same thoroughness of research, in propoLetion to his years, which made him afterwards an interesting preacher. He was, moreover, a manly man among his fellowsthoughtful, earnest, upright, a man whose mind and soul impressed all with the thought that he was moving upward in his inner life, and was worthy of their regard. His college associates thoroughly respected him for his character. They prized his friendship, if they won it for themselves, and found in it a blessing which they could never cease to appreciate. Without striving for popularity or position, he gained some of the best rewards which the Acad- emic course has to offer. He graduated with honor, acknowledged by all to be one of the ablest and most gifted members of his class. On his graduation, in ~ 856, he found his tastes and inclinations leading him to the quieter and more scholarly pursuits in life. Accordingly, he determined to continue his studies at the College for a year or more, as a resident graduate. He easily secured, on examiuntion, a graduate scholarship which afforded him a small income, and returned in the autumn of that year to pursue a further course, giving himself especially to the Greek language and to Mental and Moral Philosophy. At the close of the year, in the summer of 18b7, he sailed for Europe in company with a college friend. After a brief period of travel, he connected him- self with the University of Berlin. There he spent a year, attend voL. viii. 9 130 Lewi8 II. Pac1ca~d. [Jan., ing lectures and still further pursuing Greek studies. The advan- tages and privileges of his foreign residence he greatly enjoyed, especially as he was associated with three or four of his most valued college friends, who happened to be in Germany at the same time. He had not, however, any definite plan or expecta- tion, when in Europe, of devoting himself to scholarship as his lif& s employment. He was, oii the other hand, intending to enter the clerical profession, and to become a pastor of some church when his preparatory theological studies should be com- pleted. For the carrying out of this purpose, he began the crit- ical examination of the New Testament on his return to his home. In the autumn of 1859, however, he received an invita- tion to become a tutor in Yale College, which he accepted, and thus the main work of his career, as later years proved, was determined for him. Two gentlemen connected with the instruc- tion in the Greek department in the Collegeone of them, the late Professor James Hadleyhad their minds turned especially towards him as one who might probably make a useful and valu- able teacher, and at their suggestion he was elected to the tutor- ship. Four years afterwards, when he had abundantly proved his fitness for his work, Professor Hadley and the other members of the Faculty felt him to be, beyond doubt, the best qualified person to fill the Hillhouse Professorship of Greek, which was then newly established, lie was chosen to the office at once by the Corporation, but was allowed the privilege of spending a year in Europe. At this time he went not only to Germany, but also to Greece. He had visited the latter country, indeed, in 1858, but only as a passing traveler. He now became a resident there for a considerable period, and acquired a knowledge of the modern language, as well as of the region itself and its objects of interest to the scholar., Upon his return in the autumn of 1864, he immediately entered upon the duties of his new office, pursuing his own studies and instructing his classes in the ordinary routine of university life. In December, 1870, he was married in Brooklyn, N. Y., to Miss Harriet M. Storrs, the eldest daughter of the Rev. Dr. Richard S. Storrs, of that city, who with their only child, a daughter, made the life and joy of his household in all his after years. He was a lover of home, always left it unwill- ingly and always returned to it with gladness. For a period of eight years following the beginning of his work in his professor- ship, he labored in his chosen field side by side with his older col 1885.] Lewi8 1?. Packard. 131 league, Professor iladley, until the death of the latter in 18~2. He found in his colleague the genial, helpful, stimulating, inspir- ing, wise, generous friend, whom all the older officers of the College so well remember. The educating and strengthening influence of such an associate and friend could not be too highly appreciated. Professor Packard knew how to estimate it at its frill value, and to profit by it in the highest degree. Professor Hadley, on the other hand, found in his young friend one in whom he could confidea scholar after his own heart, a careful, intelligent, enterprising, conscientious, ardent student, a man of Greek mind, as it were, and peculiarly suited to Greek culture. American scholarship has met with no greater loss in the last thirty years than that which it suffered through Professor Had- leys death. He was a man whom it was a privilege and an inspiration to know. But, happily for the University, at the time of his death Professor Packard had been so long in service, that he was abundantly qualified to take the leading place in his depart- ment of study. He did not have that wide range of interest in studies of every sort, or that wonderful memory retaining every- thing once acquired for future and instant use, which character- ized his colleague. But he had a knowledge of his own field which would have been creditable to any man, as well as that readiness to gain knowledge, or to give it, which marks the true scholar. He worked with and followed after one of the most many sided and remarkable men of the time. That he filled the place assigned to him well, is the testimony of all, now that his work is finished. It was no wrong or mistaken choice, when he was called by the trustees into the College service. He was a true citizen in the University sphere, a lover of learning for learn- ings sake, a helpful guide for all who loved the ways of learning as he did himself. The life of a college teacher is a calm, quiet, uneventful life. The charm and glory of it are closely connected with the quiet- ness of its course. To a certain class of refined and cultivated minds it is peculiarly attractive for this reason. It moves on with little of excitement, and when it ends there is but little to tell the world about it. But it requires no long observation or experience of human life to prove that usefulness is not meas- ured by eventfulness,that the lessons and influences which move the souls of men and make many hearts better or nobler come forth~ oftentimes, from those who are withdrawn in retire- 132 ]ewi8 I?. Packard. [Jan., ment from the activities of the world. What the University gives to the young men who enjoy its privileges, is felt by them all to be one of the greatest and most wide-reaching blessings of their lives. No part of what it gives is of higher value or more manifest in its enduring results, than that which comes from association with a helpful, stimulating teacher. As a teacher, Professor Packard was both helpful and stimulat- ing to the students whose minds were most open to receive the scholarly impulse. He was a faithful, accurate, careful, earnest investigator himself He studied conscientiously, with a critical judgment and a fair and honest spirit. Whenever he found his pupils acting in the same manner und with the same impulse as himself, he was ready to do everything in his power for them. When he had a class entirely made up of such persons, as was often the case with the graduate classes who selected his depart- ment of study, he was in the sphere for which he was peculiarly fitted. He labored for them unsparingly, and guided them with wisdom, with deep interest in their progress, and with gratifying success. What a good gift of fortune it would be for any col- lege instructor worthy of his place, if he could find all the students, whom he meets, thus heartily willing to work with him in his chosen field. But alas! the millennial period in this regard has not yet arrived. The good and the bad are still mingled together, and the teacher is obliged to come in contact with them both. What is to be done for the dull minds, for those who care little or nothing for particular studies, for the wilfully negligent, is ever a great question in the Academic life. For all these, espe cially for the last two classes, Professor Packard believed that the true method was to hold them strictly to the discharge of the assigned duties. As one of his most intelligent pupils has recently said, He had no sympathy with evasion of work, and made the student feel that in teaching him he had a right to his best efforts. By reason of the critical character of his mind, which seized upon minor details and made much of accuracy and finish with respect to them, he was impatientno doubt, at times too impatientof those who overlooked or passed them by. His standard, which he set up for himself, was beyond the possibili- ties of many minds having different characteristics from his own. Their failures, therefore, grated upon his sensitive feeling. The minor things, which they could not appreciate, seemed great to his thought. He was, doubtless, unable to help them sometimes 1885.1 Lew~~8 1?. PackaM. 133 as he might have wished, because he could not take their position, or leave the finer matters of which they had little knowledge for the broader and greater ones, which alone were open to their easy vision. No doubt the inferior teacher, when estimated by the standard of those who learn most quickly and with clearest insight, or the less accurate and penetrating scholar may, occa- sionally, be more helpful than one of higher powers than himself to students whose minds are not of the more active order. With less ability and taste for minute criticism, he may give the greater awakening and stimulating influence. But it is a most healthful thing for young men in college to have before them an example of accurate, minute, thorough scholarship, ~and to be called to the stern and full discharge of every duty. No student ever passed a year under Professor Packards instruction without knowing what accuracy and thoroughness in learning are. No one ever failed to see in him a teacher who was as faithful him- self as he asked his pupil to be, and one who would lead him carefully if he was only willing to follow. But if he would not followProfessor Packard demanded the fulfillment of duty as a task, and thus often taught the lesson of faithfulness where the lesson in Greek was not willingly learned. The living exam- ple, says the writer to whom we have already referred, which he presented of earnestness of purpose, conscientious discharge of duty, and thoroughness of work, has carried more with it in its influence upon a generation of young men toward manliness than would many books. Professor Packard, as an officer of the College, was, with respect to the administration of its government a strict disciplin- arian, a careful observer of all rules, even those of minor importance, in his own conduct, and disposed to require a similar observance on the part of others. As related to the welfare and prosperity of the institution, he was heartily devoted to its interests. It has been characteristic of the teachers in Yale Col- lege in the past, that they have thus consecrated their lives to its service, and have unselfishly labored for it with much of the same spirit with which men give themselves to the support of their households. To this fact arc, in no small measure, due the pros- perity and success which have marked its history. Professor Pack- ard belonged to the honorable line of those who have thus built up the University. To the best of his ability and knowledge, he worked for the highest style of education, for the truest scholar- 134 iew~s R. Packard. [Jan., ship, and for the extermination of all show and pretense. He was full of confidence that, if the College could be made a home of sound learning, in the largest degree, and of solid mental and moral character, it would permanently secure the approval of the world. He was not an enthusiast by nature. He was not much of a believer in the more ardent sort of enthusiasm. He was not even disposed to bestow commendation with great free- dom, where, in his heart, he approved of what men around him did. But he pressed forward with energy all sincere and honest work, and desired the College to be full of such working. In his own studies, he was constantly moving forward through all his career. Though assailed by the power of an insidious and deadly disease, when he was not more than thirty-five years of ageat a time, thus, when most men begin their most vigorous workinghe never wavered in his course or failed in his energy. He resisted the power of his malady to the utmost, rose manfnlly from every new and severe attack, sustained his courage in the darker and brighter hours alike, found his intellectual powers renewing their strength even while his physical energy was growing weakerand for long years he pressed on in his acqui- sitions, as well as in his work for others, until he obtained rccognition everywhere in the country as one of the most culti- vated scholars in his own department. He was deeply interested in the work and success of the American Philological Association, and, a few years ago, was elected its president for the year. For the Transactions of that Assoeiation, as well as for this Journal, and for the American Journal of Philology and the Bibliotheca Sacra, he prepared, from time to time, a considerable number of valuable articles. Had his health allowed, he would doubtless have given evidence of his learning and ability by published books. Had he lived a few years longer, he would, notwithstanding the limitations which his health imposed, have carried out plans which he had already formed or thought of, and would have shown to the public what he had already manifested to his friends. He patiently labored when his strength was unequal to his work, and attained honorable results and fame, where less courageous men would have accomplished nothing. As has been already intimated, he made choice of the ministry early in life as the profession to which he would devote himself. Though he was turned aside from this work by his call to the College, he completed his theological studies while he was holding 1885.1 Lewis I?. Packard. 135 the office of tutor, and received a license to preach. He began preaching almost immediately, and was successful and acceptable wherever he went. He occasionally occupied the College pulpit. His sermons were listened to attentively and gladly. They were fresh, original, thoughtful, like himself. They had the peculiar element in them which made them interesting to thoughtful men. The hearer found himself carried along without an effort, and felt at once that he was listening to a man who wrote from his own experience and his own thinking. He had none of the artifices of rhetoric and cared little for the graces of oratory, but he spoke as with the charm of the pleasing conversation of an intelligent and scholarly friend. The students, it is believed, always liked to hear him; certainly the professors and older members of the congregation did. But his ill health closed for him the possibil- ities of public speaking, and the memory of him as a preacher is now a memory of years gone by. What has been already said of him in connection with his work and life has indicated largely what he was as a man. His mind was a strong one. It was especially characterized by clearness, ease and, if we may so express it, neatness in its working, careful scrutiny of details, minute criticism, severity and purity of taste, independence in thinking, intelligence, and a certain scholarly coloring. He had much of quiet humor, was appreciative of humor in others, knew the amusing side of life, and manifested a kind of playfulness, which was peculiar to himself and which even continued illness could not overcome. His mind, like his char- acter, was thoroughly honest. There was no pretense about him, no show behind which the corresponding reality was wanting. Tie was as sparing in his commendation of himself as he was in his words of praise to others, and was sparing of both as a matter of principle. He had a certain enthusiasm, but not of the fresh and bubbling sortardor in study, but no rush of ardor in common life, lie had, as has already been said, a Greek mind and spirit, and he moved most fitly in his own field. He asked for perfection in the little things of life, and not merely in the great things. He was not content with the wide outlook, but looked into every nook and corner. He loved art and music. To music he gave many hours in all his life, and found in it delight both for his mind and soul. In his character, he had the solid and strong foundations on which virtue and righteousness in the human soul rest. All who knew him well felt that they could be sure of 136 Lewis P. Paeka~rd. him. They felt that when he entered the Christian life he moved by the power of no momentary impulse, but by the force of an intelligent will. They were sure afterwards that he would not fail when beset by temptation, or fall away in the hour of trial. He was not what we ordinarily call an emotional person; he was rather the opposite. But he was true, sincere, consecrated to the right, a follower of the truth. He was adapted to pure friendship and won, in his college days and afterwards, many friends. He loved them, we think, more ardently than they ever knew. They loved him with an affection which survived the years. His face told the story of his mind and spirit. Its Greek beauty came forth anew after the fatal disease had finished its work and as he lay calmly in death waiting for the hour of his burial. The last year of Professor Packards life was mainly spent in Athens. From the time of the first proposal to establish an American School in that city for purposes, especially, of archeo- logical research, he had taken great interest in the matter. He pressed its claims upon the attention of educated and benevolent persons in New Haven and elsewhere, and urged the authorities of the College to c& 5perate in carrying out the plan so far it was possible for them to do so. A part of the merit of securing for the school an established and permanent existence belongs, no doubt, to him. He, certainly, worked for it faithfully and bore its welfare upon his heart. AB Professor Goodwin, of Harvard College, who had charge of the School during the first year of its existence, was about returning to his home, the general feeling of all Greek scholars interested in its success was that Professor Packard should become the head of it for the second year. He was accordingly appointed to the office in the spring of 1883. With some hesitation and misgiving, he accepted the appoint- ment. His friends felt that a year spent in Europe might, not improbably, be serviceable to his health. As for himself, he rather yielded to their views and wishes than admitted to his own mind similar hopefulness. But the call had comethe College had given him the required leave of absenceit might be the summons to duty, possibly the way to greater strength and longer life. He ronsed his energy and courage to obey the call, and went forth bravely and manfully. Scarcely, however, had he passed beyond the sight of the American shores, when he was prostrated by a new attack of his malady, and his whole life abroad was one of severe struggle with disease and disappoint- [Jan., 1885.] LeWi8 P. Packard. 137 ment of his plans. He reached Athens, indeed, and remained there during the allotted time. He was ready for the work assigned him at any moment when his physical strength should be adequate to it. But he waited for the desired hour in yarn. He was scarcely able to get even a sight for himself of anything which interested him as a scholar, much less to give the aid, which he would so gladly have given, to the students who had gone to Greece to be with him. During this period, however, as oftentimes within the last fourteen years of his life, his will poxver rose triumphant over its enemy. The friends who had known him from his boyhood had seen most of his qualities of mind and heart, as they had watched him throughout his whole career. But the manliness, the wonderful heroism of his will they had never imagined, until they saw its manifestation of itself in the later years, or heard of it as exhibited in the struggle and disappointments of the last year. It was the grandest thing, perhaps, in all his life, but a thing which could not be fully known to others, or even to himself, until the fiery trial called it forth. The calm, critical, undemonstrative, truthful scholar was a hero when the houryes, when the slowly moving hours of a long yeardemanded it. He fought a long-continued battle and a hard one, but he never faltered. Recovering his strength in some measure as the later spring months came on, he sailed for home when the annual School ses- sion in Athens had reached its end, and safely arrived in New York near the close of the month of June in the present year. His health seemed to improve, in some degree, for a few weeks, but soon after the middle of September he had an alarming attack of illness, and from that time he gradually failed, though with intervals of hopefulness, until the 26th of October, when lie died. By the arrangements of the college studies, during the past few years, only the Junior and Senior classes had met him as an instructor. As he had been absent for the year previous to his death, the classes whose acquaintance he had formed were already graduated, and he was consequently unknown to most of the students now within the college walls. The members of nearly thirty classes, however, who preceded those of the present year, have been familiar with him either as a teacher or a f~llow- student. To any of them, who might have seen him two weeks before his life came to its ending, he would have appearednot in his face, indeed, and in his failing strength, but in his spirit 138 College Atldetic8. [Jan., as he did in the former years. lie had the same cheerfulness, the same way of looking at the world, the same mode of expressing his thought, the same readiness to do and suffer what might be necessary without complaining, the same apparent belief that a ~nnn should be manly and not speak of it, the same feeling towards his friends, which he manifested ten or twenty years before. We could not persuade ourselves, after a half-hours conversation with him in which he seemed ready for a longer struggle and hopeful for life, that the end was in reality so very near as it was. But it caine suddenly and without his being con- scious of it. It came just after midnight on Sunday morning. The peacefulness of the Lords day seemed the fitting close of the long conflict with fatal disease. The enemy, from whom vic- tory had been wrested many times before by the power of a courageous soul, had at last triumphed, but, in the hour of its triumph, the heroic spirit was at rest. ARTICLE 111.COLLEGE ATHLETICS. 1.YOUTH THE TIME FOR PHYSICAL DEVELOPMENT. B~ WALTER CHAUNCEY CAMP. The pleasure of riding a hobby-horse lies in the imagination of the rider. It may be excellent exercise to rock backward and forward upon the same spot, but progress is confined to accidental lurching, and the view is limited. The subject of college athletics has proved for certain imaginative critics a favorite steed. The only change of view they have had was when some one moved the rocking-horse from the back to the front piazza. Cartooned and caricatured for years as a hollow-chested consumptive, all brains and no physique, the student opened his eyes one day to find himself portrayed as all muscle and no brains. The college man has felt the unfairness of both views. As far as they go they are both true but the entire main field is omitted. Types of brain and brute can both be found, but the vast majority inter- venes between these two and consists of the men who are con- tinually deriving benefit from contact with the extremes. How many parents urge their sons on coming to college to study hard and stand high! How few exhort them to play hard and be athletic! Statistics can show that at least half need the latter advice, but statistics are dull and unconvincing. There is,

138 College Atldetic8. [Jan., as he did in the former years. lie had the same cheerfulness, the same way of looking at the world, the same mode of expressing his thought, the same readiness to do and suffer what might be necessary without complaining, the same apparent belief that a ~nnn should be manly and not speak of it, the same feeling towards his friends, which he manifested ten or twenty years before. We could not persuade ourselves, after a half-hours conversation with him in which he seemed ready for a longer struggle and hopeful for life, that the end was in reality so very near as it was. But it caine suddenly and without his being con- scious of it. It came just after midnight on Sunday morning. The peacefulness of the Lords day seemed the fitting close of the long conflict with fatal disease. The enemy, from whom vic- tory had been wrested many times before by the power of a courageous soul, had at last triumphed, but, in the hour of its triumph, the heroic spirit was at rest. ARTICLE 111.COLLEGE ATHLETICS. 1.YOUTH THE TIME FOR PHYSICAL DEVELOPMENT. B~ WALTER CHAUNCEY CAMP. The pleasure of riding a hobby-horse lies in the imagination of the rider. It may be excellent exercise to rock backward and forward upon the same spot, but progress is confined to accidental lurching, and the view is limited. The subject of college athletics has proved for certain imaginative critics a favorite steed. The only change of view they have had was when some one moved the rocking-horse from the back to the front piazza. Cartooned and caricatured for years as a hollow-chested consumptive, all brains and no physique, the student opened his eyes one day to find himself portrayed as all muscle and no brains. The college man has felt the unfairness of both views. As far as they go they are both true but the entire main field is omitted. Types of brain and brute can both be found, but the vast majority inter- venes between these two and consists of the men who are con- tinually deriving benefit from contact with the extremes. How many parents urge their sons on coming to college to study hard and stand high! How few exhort them to play hard and be athletic! Statistics can show that at least half need the latter advice, but statistics are dull and unconvincing. There is, 1885.] College Athletics. 139 however, in Natures own method a lesson that will sometime be learned and an argument that must be accepted. She developes the body before the mind. A man is in the prime of his physical power long before the maximum of his mental strength is reached. Indeed, in many cases the mind never retrogrades but improves in force and calibre to the very end. MacLaren, Blaikie, and others have attempted in various ingenious ways to make physical culture attractive to professional men and men of business. Why have they met with comparative failure? Because they have neglected Natures prime lessonthat a man must be physically developed before, not during, the rush and swing of his lifes work. Once thoroughly developed, he can prevent retrogression by almost a minimum of exercise. No expression can put this fact more clearly thnn that heard from every man who attempts vigorous physical exercise while working to the full extent of his powers at his business or profession. I feel that it takes too much out of me. That is the truth. It does take too much out of him and burns the candle of life at both ends. It is during school and college days, before lifes burdens feel heavy upon his shoulders, that a man should increase his biceps and expand his chest. After that, exercise must mean to him relaxation, not development. From two-thirds physical development in early life, Nature gradually but steadily changes the proportion until in old age it is more than two-thirds mental. Would it be right for us to attempt to reverse these proportionsto make the man of sixty run, jump, and wrestle? Is it any the more right to take these very things away from the youth when Nature is begging for them in order to make a physical manhood for him, just as she refuses them in the case of old age? How to accomplish the best results for and by college athletics, time alone can tell. Some obligatory exercise is already con- ceded. Unfortunately for perfect harmony of action at this day, the case stands in this way. Neither the faculties nor other critics assisted in building the structure of college athletics. In fact, they put some obstacles in the way. It is a structure which students unaided have builded, and with pride they point to their labor, and love it the more dearly for its very difficulties. Not a stone but what calls back to their minds the struggle of placing it in its position, and not a room in that building but is, to them, full of memories of the flush of victory or the grim realization of defeat, and the resolve to retrieve the lost ground. Is it any wonder that the attempts at interference of the last few years 140 College Atldetws. [Jan., have been met by determined resistance, and that students rising en masse to protect their work have rebelled against arbitrary demands to take out a stone here oi- close up a room there? Fac- ulty participation in interest would have been and is now not only acceptable but eagerly sought for by the student athlete. A few years of such treatment would do away with the necessity for repressive measures. The growth of college athletics is a most fascinating study for any man; it ought to be a matter of duty for any one intending to legislate upon them. Yet how little it is so. How many Faculties appreciate the fact that step by step sports which began in rudimentary struggles governed only by precedent have led to the formation of associations with constitutions and printed rules, legislated upon annually and enforced by regularly appointed servants of these associations at the time of contest? Student athletes unaided by outsiders have met their own difficulties and conquered them until they have systematized every sport and made their own way clear to satis- factory settlement of their own affairs. From some costly expe- riences they have learned rule-making, and from actual trial the best methods of governing their sports. They understand the two meanings of professionalism. The use of unfair means they leave to dishonest tricksters, while the experts methods of doing the one thing well they strive to follow. If the critics who call one of the college sports brutal and dan- gerous could be persuaded to spend the necessary time in learning the game, they would change their opinion. Would any one of them think of running at the rate of a mile in five minutes around the track outside of the field during the hour and a half of the game, without some previous preparation for the task? Well, neither do these players think of tumbling about so violently on the ground without a previous, preparation which accustoms them to the falls and renders them safe by the very hardness of their muscles. Can the critic walk out on the field and kick a drop- kickthat apparently simple thing? Can he tackle a man who uses his arm? He has told college players how they ought to do the latterwill he not enlarge on the former or perhaps illustrate? All that college athletes ask is fairness. Nature backs them in desiring vigorous sports. They have themselves developed those sports. They ask interest from the Faculties, not interference without knowledge. And, finally, from the public, and especially from the press, they ask that justice which in everything else is concedednamely, knowledge of the subject before criticism. 1885.] College Atidetice. 141 2.GENTLEMANLINESS IN COLLEGE ATHLETICS. By ALFRED L. RIPLEY. In spite of much discussion, the problems presented by college athletics cannot be said to have been even clearly set forth, much less to be definitively settled. That this outlet for the students energies, so rapidly developed and now so potent a factor in the student life in our colleges, has its good side, few will deny; that the absorbing interest awakened by athletics has its dangers as well, the candid observer must also admit. Some of our cob lege faculties are showing a laudable desire to regulate supposed excesses, but in their efforts they have displayed little acquaint- ance with the facts aud have used means of questionable value. But evils do exist; what are they? The complaint is made, in a very general and often hazy manner, that our college athletics are getting to savor more and more of professionalism; though just what is meant by this, mne-tenths would perhaps be unable to say. But it is obviously meant as a reproach; in what sense is it a just one? It is cer- taialy no ground for censure that studeats are anxious to excel in their sports, to accomplish a certain athletic feat or to execute a muscular movement with the ease, force, and precision of the man who makes his livelihood thereby. They are aiming at an ideal, though it he a low one. The true cause for alarm is rather the appearance in our college sports of a certain professional spirit. The student is gradually losing sight of what should be the leading principle iu contests between gentlemen, the desire that the beet man should win in a gentlemanly way. The opposite of this desire is the essence of professionalism. Examples seem wholly unnecessary. Now looking at ~ollege athletics generally, the difficulties and dangers arise in this way. In every code of rules, whether relating to moral conduct, or the conduct of a foot ball game, many possible cases must be left nnprovided for. In our athletic contests it is assumed that gentlemanly courtesy will provide a satisfactory solutiou for such cases. Now to the impartial observer nothing could be more evident than that this sense of gentlemanly courtesy is seriously declining in our inter- collegiate sports. The notion seems to be prevalent that what is within the letter of the law is not merely technically justifiable but also becoming to a gentleman; nay worse, that unseen viola-

1885.] College Atidetice. 141 2.GENTLEMANLINESS IN COLLEGE ATHLETICS. By ALFRED L. RIPLEY. In spite of much discussion, the problems presented by college athletics cannot be said to have been even clearly set forth, much less to be definitively settled. That this outlet for the students energies, so rapidly developed and now so potent a factor in the student life in our colleges, has its good side, few will deny; that the absorbing interest awakened by athletics has its dangers as well, the candid observer must also admit. Some of our cob lege faculties are showing a laudable desire to regulate supposed excesses, but in their efforts they have displayed little acquaint- ance with the facts aud have used means of questionable value. But evils do exist; what are they? The complaint is made, in a very general and often hazy manner, that our college athletics are getting to savor more and more of professionalism; though just what is meant by this, mne-tenths would perhaps be unable to say. But it is obviously meant as a reproach; in what sense is it a just one? It is cer- taialy no ground for censure that studeats are anxious to excel in their sports, to accomplish a certain athletic feat or to execute a muscular movement with the ease, force, and precision of the man who makes his livelihood thereby. They are aiming at an ideal, though it he a low one. The true cause for alarm is rather the appearance in our college sports of a certain professional spirit. The student is gradually losing sight of what should be the leading principle iu contests between gentlemen, the desire that the beet man should win in a gentlemanly way. The opposite of this desire is the essence of professionalism. Examples seem wholly unnecessary. Now looking at ~ollege athletics generally, the difficulties and dangers arise in this way. In every code of rules, whether relating to moral conduct, or the conduct of a foot ball game, many possible cases must be left nnprovided for. In our athletic contests it is assumed that gentlemanly courtesy will provide a satisfactory solutiou for such cases. Now to the impartial observer nothing could be more evident than that this sense of gentlemanly courtesy is seriously declining in our inter- collegiate sports. The notion seems to be prevalent that what is within the letter of the law is not merely technically justifiable but also becoming to a gentleman; nay worse, that unseen viola- 142 College Athletics. [Jan., tions of the law do not count. Look only at the present game of foot ball. The warning for foul play is now made so light of, that the player is expected to get as many warnings as is possi- ble without his being disqualified, a penalty but seldom enforced. This disposition to disregard true courtesy, in a matter nntouched by law, was seen to a marked degree in the conduct of certain ball games during the past year. It would be absurd to hold that a large number of men deliberately set to work to win a game by howling; but that so many men could so far forget what they owed to themselves as gentlemen, indicates a deplorable lower- ing of the general tone of college sentiment. It was an argument which created much merriment, that the existence of laws against ungentlemanly practices was a bad sign; none the less would we venture to use it. The law does not stand in the code for noth- ing; and the worst of it is that the students are fast coming to regard conduct according to the law as all that is demanded of them. Self-interest becomes the sole controlling motive and so well recognized a one that even umpires and referees are both suspected and charged with being actuated by it. It is only a short remove from the professional ball game, where one player interferes with another, runs past bases without touching them, if the umpire be looking the other way, and where the umpire is mobbed because he does not suit the majority. The code of rules provides severe penalties for such offences; have they be- come less frequent because of the rules? The writer is convinced that there is much work for the reformer in the field of college sports; but can our college facul- ties remedy an evil whose causes lie in the decline in college sentiment? Undue waste of time they can easily and properly prevent by maintaining a rigorous standard of scholarship; into the rest of the field they can hardly venture, and prohibitory legislation must fail to touch the evil, while arousing resentment. The college communities themselves must work the change; and first of all it is necessary that they be brought to see the evil. In the first place gentlemen, in the second place athletes, should be the principle characterizing college sports; they should be en- gaged in by rivals and friends, not, as now seems to be the case, by rivals and foes. 1885.1 Notices of New Books. 143 NOTICES OF NEW BOOKS. HINDU PmLosoPuy.*~Jn view of the discussion and conflict that are provoked by the presence of Christianity amidst Oriental systems of thought and ritual, it is eminently desirable that the public mind should be informed from trustworthy sources what these systems really are. A popular exposition of the Hindu philosophy as represented in its so-called orthodox schools has not a few reasons for attracting to itself a special interest. It would seem also that this work of exposition would be best done by a native scholar, who should be able to apprehend and sympathize with the genuine significance of forms of reflection and discussion which may seem incomprehensible and even grotesque to an alien, but who should also be able to assume that superior point of view toward them all which belongs to cultivated and rational Chris- tian investigators. All these advantages we might expect would be possessed by the work of Ram Chandra Bose. His book on Brahmoism has already been noticed in the New Eiqj,lander. Parts of the present volume have appeared as articles in the Calcutta Review, the Indian Evangelical Review, and the Metho- dist Quarterly. This volume contains chapters on the Sources and Age of the Hindu Philosophy in general, and a summary statement and polemical discussion of the six phases or forms of Hindu thought, called here the Orthodox Systems. These six are the Sankhya or Hindu Theory of Evolution, the Yoga or Hindu Asceticism, the Nayaya or Hindu Logic, the Vaiseshika or Hindu Atomic Theory, the Purva Mimansa or Hindu. Ritualism, the Vedanta or Hindu Pantheism, and the Maya or Illusion Theory. It closes with chapters on The Hindu and Christian Philosophy contrasted, and on Hindu Electicism. Its style is clear and vivacious enough to make it interesting. It is well worthy of being read by the classes for whom especially it was prepared ;namely, for mis- sionaries and clergymen or mere lovers of literature who wish to have a birds-eye view of Hindu Philosophy without taking the trouble of going to the sources (p. iv.). * Hindu Philosophy popularly explained: The Orthodox Systems. By RAM CIJANDRA BOSE, A.M., of Lucknow, India. Funk & Wagnalls. New York: 1884.

1885.1 Notices of New Books. 143 NOTICES OF NEW BOOKS. HINDU PmLosoPuy.*~Jn view of the discussion and conflict that are provoked by the presence of Christianity amidst Oriental systems of thought and ritual, it is eminently desirable that the public mind should be informed from trustworthy sources what these systems really are. A popular exposition of the Hindu philosophy as represented in its so-called orthodox schools has not a few reasons for attracting to itself a special interest. It would seem also that this work of exposition would be best done by a native scholar, who should be able to apprehend and sympathize with the genuine significance of forms of reflection and discussion which may seem incomprehensible and even grotesque to an alien, but who should also be able to assume that superior point of view toward them all which belongs to cultivated and rational Chris- tian investigators. All these advantages we might expect would be possessed by the work of Ram Chandra Bose. His book on Brahmoism has already been noticed in the New Eiqj,lander. Parts of the present volume have appeared as articles in the Calcutta Review, the Indian Evangelical Review, and the Metho- dist Quarterly. This volume contains chapters on the Sources and Age of the Hindu Philosophy in general, and a summary statement and polemical discussion of the six phases or forms of Hindu thought, called here the Orthodox Systems. These six are the Sankhya or Hindu Theory of Evolution, the Yoga or Hindu Asceticism, the Nayaya or Hindu Logic, the Vaiseshika or Hindu Atomic Theory, the Purva Mimansa or Hindu. Ritualism, the Vedanta or Hindu Pantheism, and the Maya or Illusion Theory. It closes with chapters on The Hindu and Christian Philosophy contrasted, and on Hindu Electicism. Its style is clear and vivacious enough to make it interesting. It is well worthy of being read by the classes for whom especially it was prepared ;namely, for mis- sionaries and clergymen or mere lovers of literature who wish to have a birds-eye view of Hindu Philosophy without taking the trouble of going to the sources (p. iv.). * Hindu Philosophy popularly explained: The Orthodox Systems. By RAM CIJANDRA BOSE, A.M., of Lucknow, India. Funk & Wagnalls. New York: 1884.

1885.1 Notices of New Books. 143 NOTICES OF NEW BOOKS. HINDU PmLosoPuy.*~Jn view of the discussion and conflict that are provoked by the presence of Christianity amidst Oriental systems of thought and ritual, it is eminently desirable that the public mind should be informed from trustworthy sources what these systems really are. A popular exposition of the Hindu philosophy as represented in its so-called orthodox schools has not a few reasons for attracting to itself a special interest. It would seem also that this work of exposition would be best done by a native scholar, who should be able to apprehend and sympathize with the genuine significance of forms of reflection and discussion which may seem incomprehensible and even grotesque to an alien, but who should also be able to assume that superior point of view toward them all which belongs to cultivated and rational Chris- tian investigators. All these advantages we might expect would be possessed by the work of Ram Chandra Bose. His book on Brahmoism has already been noticed in the New Eiqj,lander. Parts of the present volume have appeared as articles in the Calcutta Review, the Indian Evangelical Review, and the Metho- dist Quarterly. This volume contains chapters on the Sources and Age of the Hindu Philosophy in general, and a summary statement and polemical discussion of the six phases or forms of Hindu thought, called here the Orthodox Systems. These six are the Sankhya or Hindu Theory of Evolution, the Yoga or Hindu Asceticism, the Nayaya or Hindu Logic, the Vaiseshika or Hindu Atomic Theory, the Purva Mimansa or Hindu. Ritualism, the Vedanta or Hindu Pantheism, and the Maya or Illusion Theory. It closes with chapters on The Hindu and Christian Philosophy contrasted, and on Hindu Electicism. Its style is clear and vivacious enough to make it interesting. It is well worthy of being read by the classes for whom especially it was prepared ;namely, for mis- sionaries and clergymen or mere lovers of literature who wish to have a birds-eye view of Hindu Philosophy without taking the trouble of going to the sources (p. iv.). * Hindu Philosophy popularly explained: The Orthodox Systems. By RAM CIJANDRA BOSE, A.M., of Lucknow, India. Funk & Wagnalls. New York: 1884. 144 Notiee8 of New Boolc8. [Jan., Neither the spirit, the method, nor the conclusions of Bose, however, seem to us wholly commendable. His evident purpose in writing is polemical; he is intent upon opposing that morbid sentimentalism which is arrayed in behalf of what is called the ancient civilization of India (p. 361). Such intention is in itself commendable, but has led the author in this volume to press too hard toward the side of depreciating and even denounc- ing the views and practices admired by this morbid sentiment- alism. Nor is the attitude of Bose toward the attempts of men to reach God and his truth by means of philosophical reflection and ascetic practices, sufficiently intelligent and sympathetic. Several times he appears quite at the point of flouting all so-called non-Christian philosophy in its attempt to deal ~vith problems of religion; and especially the ancient philosophy of his own coun- try. He speaks (p. 72) of these attempts as wasting the loftiest intellects; he declares that failure must be ascribed on the ban- ner of both ancient and modern philosophy (p. 73). At the same time the perfectly wild declaration occurs that, the moment the solutions of these abstruse problems offered by a primeval revela- tion or by the primary beliefs of humanity, are accepted, all difficulties vanish into thin air(p. 75 f.). But the comprehensive and genial Christian thinker sees in all these non-Christian sys- tems the result of noble strivings after God that have never been wholly without reward; he knows that the difficulties are largely inherent in the nature of the human mind and by no means vanish into thin air before even the most enlightened Chris- tian philosopher; and he believes that one of the most conspicu- ous tenets of what Bose calls Christian philosophy is the truth that the same light of divine reason which shined in Jesus has lighted every man coming into the world. Even the ascetic regulations as to breathings and posturings, which Bose ridicules, appear to such a genial mind immeasurably pathetic as tokens of the longing of all souls to find the way to freedom, peace, and God. The method also of this book awakens criticism. To class the Nayaya or Hindu Logic with the Sankhya and Vedanta Phi- losophy, as a system of comparable philosophical principles, is misleading. Nor is Yogawhether understood as the means, or as the end of attaining freedom by union of the individual with the supreme soulto be spoken of as a system of philosophy. Moreover, Bose is scarcely fair in his interpretation of several 1885.1 ]Wtice8 of Wew 1300k8. 145 doctrines of Hindu Philosophy; for example, the doctrine 01 creation and the doctrine of the souls bondage. To speak of the doctrine of the origin of all things from Prakriti, or primordial form regarded as an omnific principle energizing spontaneously, as materialism, seems to us a plain misuse of terms. And when the argument for the modesty of Prakriti is met by saying that the dancing girl who takes a world of trouble only to be seen, cannot appropriately be called modest, the author must be regarded as having at least momentarily lapsed into the same kind of trifling of which he rather too frequently seems to accuse the ancient Hindus (p. 145). DR. BURRS ECCE TERRA.*~~~.OuV neighbor, Dr. Burr, has the satisfaction of seeing another of his timely and instructive works welcomed by his larger parish. Outside of Old Lyme, having led many eyes with new interest to the heavens, he will have a large following as he directs attention to the hand of God in the earth. From the nature of the case, in a hook of 320 pages, such a vast theme can have but a suggestive treatment. Yet the work here undertaken is anything but superficial in its accomplishment. The Doctors method is as follows: Assuming (from former works), that there is a personal God, and that he has given the Christian Scriptures, he first seeks to show that the earth is thickly covered with a divine hand-writing by showing, in a general way, that the hand of God is active in every event, and consequently in every earthly fact, inasmuch as every fact is an event, or includes many events. But to show this is far from being enough. For many reasons the general doctrine of a universal divine activity in the world, when accepted, is not as real and impressive to our thought as it is desirable to have it. The natural way of meeting this difficulty is by (1) setting aside the chief objections to the doctrine; (2) bringing forward its chief points of harmony with the constitution and course of nature (3) instancing decisive examples of divine action, especially of the larger and more striking sort. And so the author in a more particular development shows (1) that no facts on the earth are inconsistent with the divine hand being in them; (2) many facts positively harmonize with that idea; (3) not a few facts pos. itively demand the presence in them of a divine hand. * Ecce Terra, or the Hand of Cod in the Earth. By the Rev. E. F. ~ D.D., author of Ecce Ocelum, etc. Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of Publi- cation, 1334 Chestnut street. VOL. VIII. 10

1885.1 ]Wtice8 of Wew 1300k8. 145 doctrines of Hindu Philosophy; for example, the doctrine 01 creation and the doctrine of the souls bondage. To speak of the doctrine of the origin of all things from Prakriti, or primordial form regarded as an omnific principle energizing spontaneously, as materialism, seems to us a plain misuse of terms. And when the argument for the modesty of Prakriti is met by saying that the dancing girl who takes a world of trouble only to be seen, cannot appropriately be called modest, the author must be regarded as having at least momentarily lapsed into the same kind of trifling of which he rather too frequently seems to accuse the ancient Hindus (p. 145). DR. BURRS ECCE TERRA.*~~~.OuV neighbor, Dr. Burr, has the satisfaction of seeing another of his timely and instructive works welcomed by his larger parish. Outside of Old Lyme, having led many eyes with new interest to the heavens, he will have a large following as he directs attention to the hand of God in the earth. From the nature of the case, in a hook of 320 pages, such a vast theme can have but a suggestive treatment. Yet the work here undertaken is anything but superficial in its accomplishment. The Doctors method is as follows: Assuming (from former works), that there is a personal God, and that he has given the Christian Scriptures, he first seeks to show that the earth is thickly covered with a divine hand-writing by showing, in a general way, that the hand of God is active in every event, and consequently in every earthly fact, inasmuch as every fact is an event, or includes many events. But to show this is far from being enough. For many reasons the general doctrine of a universal divine activity in the world, when accepted, is not as real and impressive to our thought as it is desirable to have it. The natural way of meeting this difficulty is by (1) setting aside the chief objections to the doctrine; (2) bringing forward its chief points of harmony with the constitution and course of nature (3) instancing decisive examples of divine action, especially of the larger and more striking sort. And so the author in a more particular development shows (1) that no facts on the earth are inconsistent with the divine hand being in them; (2) many facts positively harmonize with that idea; (3) not a few facts pos. itively demand the presence in them of a divine hand. * Ecce Terra, or the Hand of Cod in the Earth. By the Rev. E. F. ~ D.D., author of Ecce Ocelum, etc. Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of Publi- cation, 1334 Chestnut street. VOL. VIII. 10 146 Notices of New Books. [Jan., The outcome is put into perspective in the closing sentence: Creating or suppressing, constructing or dissolving, placing or displacing, expanding or contracting, hastening or retarding, helping or hindering; helping all right and hindering from all wrong; the Hand is working all things after the counsel of its own will; always as a benevolent providence, never as a heart- less fate; the one almighty omnipresent OPTIMIsM of a world which but for him would have been a pessimism. JOSEPH CooKs OccwwNT.*~From the Introduction to this the ninth volume of the Boston Monday Lectures, we learn that several of the preceding volumes have reached a fifteenth or sixteenth edition; and that in London alone there have been republished thirteen different forms of these volumes. Fit audience though few need not be quoted to console Mr. Cook, for he never appears anywhere as a deserted philosopher. Indeed, in these days we hardly know where to look for any thinker of the grove, of whom the world has yet to hear. Even Emerson, the most philosophic of the hermits, had to come out with his wisdom and retail it by the lecture. It is eminently proper, however, that Mr. Cooks voice should be heard; that his thoughts should be spread in the years of their birth, because they are for the counteracting of present oppositions to everlasting truth. He has done good service by his instant testimonies in behalf of things historic, reasoned, and revealed. If the meekness of wisdom is not always so apparent in these books as the courage of conviction, we are to remember that in the popular assembly, to be successful, the prophet, like Isaiah, must be very bold. To the orator, the hour and the power are for the most part identical, as the oratorical portions of these lectures show. What was greeted with applause, great applause, great laughter and applanse, already fails to bestir even the memory of an emotion in those hearing it. For this reason, the reading public is likely to prefer the Lectures to the Preludes ; and among the first of those we put the last On Art and History at Athens. The other lectures on Advanced Thought in Italy and Greece, Spiritualism, Crit- icism, Advanced Thought in Germany, and Advanced Thought in England, are all distinguished by Mr. Cooks chief * Occk~en4 with Prehedes on Current Events. By JOSEPH Coox. Boston: Houghton, Mifilin and Company. New York: II East Seventeenth street. The Riverside Press, Cambridge, 1884.

146 Notices of New Books. [Jan., The outcome is put into perspective in the closing sentence: Creating or suppressing, constructing or dissolving, placing or displacing, expanding or contracting, hastening or retarding, helping or hindering; helping all right and hindering from all wrong; the Hand is working all things after the counsel of its own will; always as a benevolent providence, never as a heart- less fate; the one almighty omnipresent OPTIMIsM of a world which but for him would have been a pessimism. JOSEPH CooKs OccwwNT.*~From the Introduction to this the ninth volume of the Boston Monday Lectures, we learn that several of the preceding volumes have reached a fifteenth or sixteenth edition; and that in London alone there have been republished thirteen different forms of these volumes. Fit audience though few need not be quoted to console Mr. Cook, for he never appears anywhere as a deserted philosopher. Indeed, in these days we hardly know where to look for any thinker of the grove, of whom the world has yet to hear. Even Emerson, the most philosophic of the hermits, had to come out with his wisdom and retail it by the lecture. It is eminently proper, however, that Mr. Cooks voice should be heard; that his thoughts should be spread in the years of their birth, because they are for the counteracting of present oppositions to everlasting truth. He has done good service by his instant testimonies in behalf of things historic, reasoned, and revealed. If the meekness of wisdom is not always so apparent in these books as the courage of conviction, we are to remember that in the popular assembly, to be successful, the prophet, like Isaiah, must be very bold. To the orator, the hour and the power are for the most part identical, as the oratorical portions of these lectures show. What was greeted with applause, great applause, great laughter and applanse, already fails to bestir even the memory of an emotion in those hearing it. For this reason, the reading public is likely to prefer the Lectures to the Preludes ; and among the first of those we put the last On Art and History at Athens. The other lectures on Advanced Thought in Italy and Greece, Spiritualism, Crit- icism, Advanced Thought in Germany, and Advanced Thought in England, are all distinguished by Mr. Cooks chief * Occk~en4 with Prehedes on Current Events. By JOSEPH Coox. Boston: Houghton, Mifilin and Company. New York: II East Seventeenth street. The Riverside Press, Cambridge, 1884. 1884.] Notice8 (2f New Book8. 147 characteristics, life and grasp; and they escape an influence of the time who fail to come under the deliverances of the Boston Monday Lectures. On the great questions of reformTemper- ance, Civil Service, MissionsMr. Cook has no uncertain sound, seldom if ever does he speak on topics capable of large and lustrous treatment, but in a manner able, eloquent, masterly. SERMONS TO THE SPIRITUAL MAN.*~JIere are twenty-six ser- mons, covering quite a variety of topics. The topics are weighty and the discussion of them is serious and dignified, and in their way thoughtful. They address us with simplicity and direct- ness. They are not dependent upon their rhetoric for whatever of efficacy they may have. We are more impressed with the authors evident sense of the importance of the themes he dis- cusses than with his skill in the discussion. Prof. Shedd is not a preacher. He always appears as a theologian in whatever he undertakes, and we are never to be left in doubt as to the color of his theology. The color as it appears in these sermons, it must be acknowledged, is somewhat somber. The importance of the themes presented, in the authors judgment, sanctioned their publication, but it were to be wished that their tone were a little more cheerful and hopeful and evidential of a stronger grasp of the great powers of redemption. Sermons to the spiritual man would naturally be suggestive of the brighter aspects of redeemed life, but we pause every now and then to ask what manner of person this spiritual man is whom the author has in mind. In the Prefatory Note we are promised something that is addressed to the Christian heart. That, as regards the intent of the author, the promise is fulfilled is unquestioned, but there may be doubts as to its accomplishmentiti fact. The average Chris- tian heart is not reached by perpetual emphasis of sin and depravity and by the presentation of somber views of life. And in an age when we need above all else the gospel of hope, the practical value of sermons which have their origin in semi-pessim- istic assumptions, is more than questionable. The object of this volume is candidly indicated. The author is well aware that both this and the volume of Sermons to the Nat~ra1 Man are out of all keeping with some existing tendencies in the religious world. He thinks also that these tendencies are destined to * Sermons to the Spiritual Alan. By WM. G. T. SIIEDD, D.D., Rosevelt Pro- fessor Systematic Theology in Union Theological Seminary, N. Y. Charles Scribners Sons. New York: 1884.

1884.] Notice8 (2f New Book8. 147 characteristics, life and grasp; and they escape an influence of the time who fail to come under the deliverances of the Boston Monday Lectures. On the great questions of reformTemper- ance, Civil Service, MissionsMr. Cook has no uncertain sound, seldom if ever does he speak on topics capable of large and lustrous treatment, but in a manner able, eloquent, masterly. SERMONS TO THE SPIRITUAL MAN.*~JIere are twenty-six ser- mons, covering quite a variety of topics. The topics are weighty and the discussion of them is serious and dignified, and in their way thoughtful. They address us with simplicity and direct- ness. They are not dependent upon their rhetoric for whatever of efficacy they may have. We are more impressed with the authors evident sense of the importance of the themes he dis- cusses than with his skill in the discussion. Prof. Shedd is not a preacher. He always appears as a theologian in whatever he undertakes, and we are never to be left in doubt as to the color of his theology. The color as it appears in these sermons, it must be acknowledged, is somewhat somber. The importance of the themes presented, in the authors judgment, sanctioned their publication, but it were to be wished that their tone were a little more cheerful and hopeful and evidential of a stronger grasp of the great powers of redemption. Sermons to the spiritual man would naturally be suggestive of the brighter aspects of redeemed life, but we pause every now and then to ask what manner of person this spiritual man is whom the author has in mind. In the Prefatory Note we are promised something that is addressed to the Christian heart. That, as regards the intent of the author, the promise is fulfilled is unquestioned, but there may be doubts as to its accomplishmentiti fact. The average Chris- tian heart is not reached by perpetual emphasis of sin and depravity and by the presentation of somber views of life. And in an age when we need above all else the gospel of hope, the practical value of sermons which have their origin in semi-pessim- istic assumptions, is more than questionable. The object of this volume is candidly indicated. The author is well aware that both this and the volume of Sermons to the Nat~ra1 Man are out of all keeping with some existing tendencies in the religious world. He thinks also that these tendencies are destined to * Sermons to the Spiritual Alan. By WM. G. T. SIIEDD, D.D., Rosevelt Pro- fessor Systematic Theology in Union Theological Seminary, N. Y. Charles Scribners Sons. New York: 1884. 148 Notiee8 qf New Books. [Jan., disappear, whenever the blind guides shall cease to lead the blind, and honest self-knowledge shall take the place of self-flat- tery and religious delusion. This is not a very cheerful view of the age and its prevailing tendencies, and it is quite certain that, whatever may be the truth of our authors views and whatever their importance (and they are probably of far less importance than he thinks them to be), he will never succeed in making the impression he desires by approaching the men of his time with such assumptions as these. It were to be wished that themes so grand and weighty and significant as those chosen here should be so presented that men will attend to them. But there are few who will be attracted by this volume and many that will be repelled. Prof. Shedd is a man of positive convictions and of thorough honesty, candor, and courage. It is always in order for a man to speak out what is in him to speak. But the preacher must have something more than a message from his own head and heart. Something more even than a message from God. He must have a message to the men of his time of such sort as will adjust itself to their ways of thought, to their difficulties and doubts, to all that is best in their experience, and shall bring them the word of light and cheer and courage for the battle of life. THE PuBLIc MINISTRY OF Gun LonD.*.~Prof. Blaikie is a writer upon ilomiletical subjects of unusual freshness and of excellent judgment. The volume entitled, For the Work of the Ministry; a Manual of ilomitetical and Pastoral Theology, which has already passed to its third edition, and is used as a text-book of Pastoral Theology in many theological seminaries in different parts of the world, is a work of uncommon value. It would be of service to any theological student who means to make the most of his ministry, for which he would find reason to be thankful in after years. The importance of ilomiletical and Pas- toral Theology is more thoroughly recognized in Scotland than it is in this country. Perhaps this is one reason why the Scotch are the better preachers. More attention was given to this department of theology under the earlier method of training ministers. That method had some advantages. It brought men into close contact * The Public Ministry and Pastoral Methods of our Lord. By WILLIAM GARDEn BLAIKIE, D.D., LL.D., Professor of Apologetics and of Ecclesiastical and Pas- toral Theology in the New College, Edinburgh. New York: Robert Carter & Brothers, 530 Broadway. 1883.

148 Notiee8 qf New Books. [Jan., disappear, whenever the blind guides shall cease to lead the blind, and honest self-knowledge shall take the place of self-flat- tery and religious delusion. This is not a very cheerful view of the age and its prevailing tendencies, and it is quite certain that, whatever may be the truth of our authors views and whatever their importance (and they are probably of far less importance than he thinks them to be), he will never succeed in making the impression he desires by approaching the men of his time with such assumptions as these. It were to be wished that themes so grand and weighty and significant as those chosen here should be so presented that men will attend to them. But there are few who will be attracted by this volume and many that will be repelled. Prof. Shedd is a man of positive convictions and of thorough honesty, candor, and courage. It is always in order for a man to speak out what is in him to speak. But the preacher must have something more than a message from his own head and heart. Something more even than a message from God. He must have a message to the men of his time of such sort as will adjust itself to their ways of thought, to their difficulties and doubts, to all that is best in their experience, and shall bring them the word of light and cheer and courage for the battle of life. THE PuBLIc MINISTRY OF Gun LonD.*.~Prof. Blaikie is a writer upon ilomiletical subjects of unusual freshness and of excellent judgment. The volume entitled, For the Work of the Ministry; a Manual of ilomitetical and Pastoral Theology, which has already passed to its third edition, and is used as a text-book of Pastoral Theology in many theological seminaries in different parts of the world, is a work of uncommon value. It would be of service to any theological student who means to make the most of his ministry, for which he would find reason to be thankful in after years. The importance of ilomiletical and Pas- toral Theology is more thoroughly recognized in Scotland than it is in this country. Perhaps this is one reason why the Scotch are the better preachers. More attention was given to this department of theology under the earlier method of training ministers. That method had some advantages. It brought men into close contact * The Public Ministry and Pastoral Methods of our Lord. By WILLIAM GARDEn BLAIKIE, D.D., LL.D., Professor of Apologetics and of Ecclesiastical and Pas- toral Theology in the New College, Edinburgh. New York: Robert Carter & Brothers, 530 Broadway. 1883. 1885.1 JA7otices of New Books. 149 with strong and earnest pastors and theologians. No theolog- ical school with class-room method of training men can ever take the place of the personal intercourse and influence of the living teacher. The modern theological teacher and pupil live at too great a distance from each other. The volume before us reminds us of the personal power of our Lords ministry. It is impossible to over estimate its worth to those Apostles. It was expedient for him to go away, but not before he has profoundly impressed himself upon the living souls of a few men. We rejoice in Christs spiritual presence, but we have to remember that it was of little avail apart from its connection with the earthly and his- torical presence. His priestly and kingly functions have obscured his pastoral function. We are reminded anew by this work that Christ in his earthly life was preeminently the pastor and teacher, and that he had the cure of souls in a parish that taxed all his skill. His ministry is here discussed in all its aspects, in his preparation for his work, in the inner spirit and in the outer features of it, in its private and in its public aspects, in its Galilcan and in its Judean peculiarities. In every aspect of it our author finds something that furnishes examples for every Christian minister. Special attention is given to his work as a teacher. Its characteristics are well treated and his dealing with different classes of people carefully indicated and wisely empha- sized, the author writes with affluence and sometimes with genu- ine eloquence. It is pervaded by the evangelical spirit in the best sense. Prof. Blaikie would do the Christian world good service if, following the same general method, he should discuss the public ministry and pastoral methods of Paul for homiletical and pastoral uses. DR. HOPKINS BAccAL~uREATEs.*~~~These Baccalaureates have had several publications, of which this is the latest and the best. The simple elegance of the volume is becoming to the contents for with Dr. Hopkins there are neither patches nor spangles in thought or style; without and within, the beauty of this book is in its strength, and its strength is in its beauty. Modestly the preface says that the subjects of those discourses are of perma- nent interest ; with greater assurance the reader can say that the discourses themselves are of permanent value. In its * Teachings and Counsels: Twenty Baccalaureate Sermons, with a discourse on President Garfield. By MARK HoPKINs, D.D., LL.D. New York: Charles Scribners Sons. 1884.

1885.1 JA7otices of New Books. 149 with strong and earnest pastors and theologians. No theolog- ical school with class-room method of training men can ever take the place of the personal intercourse and influence of the living teacher. The modern theological teacher and pupil live at too great a distance from each other. The volume before us reminds us of the personal power of our Lords ministry. It is impossible to over estimate its worth to those Apostles. It was expedient for him to go away, but not before he has profoundly impressed himself upon the living souls of a few men. We rejoice in Christs spiritual presence, but we have to remember that it was of little avail apart from its connection with the earthly and his- torical presence. His priestly and kingly functions have obscured his pastoral function. We are reminded anew by this work that Christ in his earthly life was preeminently the pastor and teacher, and that he had the cure of souls in a parish that taxed all his skill. His ministry is here discussed in all its aspects, in his preparation for his work, in the inner spirit and in the outer features of it, in its private and in its public aspects, in its Galilcan and in its Judean peculiarities. In every aspect of it our author finds something that furnishes examples for every Christian minister. Special attention is given to his work as a teacher. Its characteristics are well treated and his dealing with different classes of people carefully indicated and wisely empha- sized, the author writes with affluence and sometimes with genu- ine eloquence. It is pervaded by the evangelical spirit in the best sense. Prof. Blaikie would do the Christian world good service if, following the same general method, he should discuss the public ministry and pastoral methods of Paul for homiletical and pastoral uses. DR. HOPKINS BAccAL~uREATEs.*~~~These Baccalaureates have had several publications, of which this is the latest and the best. The simple elegance of the volume is becoming to the contents for with Dr. Hopkins there are neither patches nor spangles in thought or style; without and within, the beauty of this book is in its strength, and its strength is in its beauty. Modestly the preface says that the subjects of those discourses are of perma- nent interest ; with greater assurance the reader can say that the discourses themselves are of permanent value. In its * Teachings and Counsels: Twenty Baccalaureate Sermons, with a discourse on President Garfield. By MARK HoPKINs, D.D., LL.D. New York: Charles Scribners Sons. 1884. 150 Notiee8 of New Book8. [Jan.. completed form this book is a fine tribute to the power and worth of a man of wisdom for years at the head of a literary institu- tion. These outlooks from the calm altitude of the instructor, have a value of their own, with which the successes of the knights of the rostrum enter into no competition. Beginning in 1850 with Faith, Philosophy, and Reason, and ending some twenty years later with The Circular and the Onward Move- ment, at intervals of a year we have such themes as Higher and Lower Good, The Manifoldness of Man, Providence and Revelation, The Bible and Pantheism,~~ Zeal, Life, fully, fairly, and yet only suggestively discussed; and discussed in a way in which the preacher does not seem to wish his word to be taken any farther than shall seem reasonable in the judgment of the reader. These admirable addresses teach, by showing, the candor and the skill necessary to keep the rays of truth separate from the flashing meteors of delusion. They also show to those covetous of genius the existence of such a thing as a genius for care and diligence, as well as a genius for originality and sagacity. To specify the excellencies or to criticise the philosophies of these treatises, for such in substance they are, would be to review a shelf of books. We can only give the comely volume a welcome and a commendation as a piece of work creditable alike to the printers, the publishers, and the author. The graduates of Wil- liams, and all friends of our New England colleges, and college system, have the right to express their satisfaction with this new tenure of life granted to these weighty teachings and counsels. PROF. LAnDS TRANSLATION OF LozTEs OUTLINES OF METAPIJYS- ics.*~The translation of the Outlines of Lotzes Philosophy will render an important and timely service to philosophical culture. We think Prof Ladd has made a wise selection in the choice of these outlines for the presentation of the philosophical views of Lotze. These volumes will be admirably adapted to this twofold object in their publication, viz: to promote a larger style of thinking among those who aspire to culture, and to open for English students one of the most important developments of German philosophy. Though appearing under the title of Outlines of Philosophy the present volume and those that are to follow are by no means mere * Outlines of Afetaphysics: Dictated Portions of the Lectures of Hermann Lotze. Translated and edited by Crsoiu4u T. LAnD, Professor of Philosophy in Yale College. Boston: Gion, Heath & Co. 1884. 66 pp.

150 Notiee8 of New Book8. [Jan.. completed form this book is a fine tribute to the power and worth of a man of wisdom for years at the head of a literary institu- tion. These outlooks from the calm altitude of the instructor, have a value of their own, with which the successes of the knights of the rostrum enter into no competition. Beginning in 1850 with Faith, Philosophy, and Reason, and ending some twenty years later with The Circular and the Onward Move- ment, at intervals of a year we have such themes as Higher and Lower Good, The Manifoldness of Man, Providence and Revelation, The Bible and Pantheism,~~ Zeal, Life, fully, fairly, and yet only suggestively discussed; and discussed in a way in which the preacher does not seem to wish his word to be taken any farther than shall seem reasonable in the judgment of the reader. These admirable addresses teach, by showing, the candor and the skill necessary to keep the rays of truth separate from the flashing meteors of delusion. They also show to those covetous of genius the existence of such a thing as a genius for care and diligence, as well as a genius for originality and sagacity. To specify the excellencies or to criticise the philosophies of these treatises, for such in substance they are, would be to review a shelf of books. We can only give the comely volume a welcome and a commendation as a piece of work creditable alike to the printers, the publishers, and the author. The graduates of Wil- liams, and all friends of our New England colleges, and college system, have the right to express their satisfaction with this new tenure of life granted to these weighty teachings and counsels. PROF. LAnDS TRANSLATION OF LozTEs OUTLINES OF METAPIJYS- ics.*~The translation of the Outlines of Lotzes Philosophy will render an important and timely service to philosophical culture. We think Prof Ladd has made a wise selection in the choice of these outlines for the presentation of the philosophical views of Lotze. These volumes will be admirably adapted to this twofold object in their publication, viz: to promote a larger style of thinking among those who aspire to culture, and to open for English students one of the most important developments of German philosophy. Though appearing under the title of Outlines of Philosophy the present volume and those that are to follow are by no means mere * Outlines of Afetaphysics: Dictated Portions of the Lectures of Hermann Lotze. Translated and edited by Crsoiu4u T. LAnD, Professor of Philosophy in Yale College. Boston: Gion, Heath & Co. 1884. 66 pp. 1885.] Not%ce8 of New Book8. 151 compendiums or resume statements of the philosophical teaching of Lotze; they disclose at the same time his peculiar method of treating the questions of philosophy and the student is taken through discussions, so original, so vigorous and stimulative, that, however much he may dissent from the final conclusions of the author, he cannot fail to have his own apprehension of the sub- ject broadened and his thinking quickened and elevated. The philosophy of Lotze is pervaded by a spirit of such elevation and by an attitude of mind so reverent and truthful that no one need fear to surrender his miiid freely to the influence of this great German thinker. The most orthodox Theist ha~ certainly noth- ing to fear from a system of philosophy that makes a Personal God the All and in All, in a sense profoundly true; how can there be any prejudice to ethical interests in a philosophy which teaches that the ultimate explanation of all reality must be sought in the realm of moral worths and ends. The translation of the volume before us is marked by that carefulness, accuracy and thoroughness that characterize all of Prof. Ladds work. The task he has accomplished was by no means a slight one as those familiar with the German of Lotze will recognize, arid if the English reader still finds difficulties in the way of a clear apprehension of the teaching of Lotze we must remind him that these difficulties cannot be removed by a trans- lation however excellent it may be. Only a mastery of the German language and a familiarity with those conceptions peculiar to German philosophy ~an render the study of any German author free from obstacles. BJERRJNG5 THE OFFICES OF THE OBJENTAL Cuuncri.*~The introduction to this volume sets forth the authorities for Dogma in the Eastern Church; the rites, as regards the form and decora- tion of the church edifice, the holy vessels, the vestments, the services, and the ecclesiastical officers of different grades; and the reli~ious manners and customs in vogue in the east. Then follows the Nocturnal service on the eve of a festival, the Litur- gies of Chrysostom and Basil, and the forms in use in special services, baptism, marriage, ordination, etc. The increased inter- est that is felt, from different motives, in the Eastern Church will conspire with the greater attention now paid to the whole subject of public worship, to secure attention to this compilation * The Offices of the Oriental Church, with an Historical Introduction. Edited by Rev. NIcHOLAs BJERRING. New York: A. U F. Randolph & Co.

1885.] Not%ce8 of New Book8. 151 compendiums or resume statements of the philosophical teaching of Lotze; they disclose at the same time his peculiar method of treating the questions of philosophy and the student is taken through discussions, so original, so vigorous and stimulative, that, however much he may dissent from the final conclusions of the author, he cannot fail to have his own apprehension of the sub- ject broadened and his thinking quickened and elevated. The philosophy of Lotze is pervaded by a spirit of such elevation and by an attitude of mind so reverent and truthful that no one need fear to surrender his miiid freely to the influence of this great German thinker. The most orthodox Theist ha~ certainly noth- ing to fear from a system of philosophy that makes a Personal God the All and in All, in a sense profoundly true; how can there be any prejudice to ethical interests in a philosophy which teaches that the ultimate explanation of all reality must be sought in the realm of moral worths and ends. The translation of the volume before us is marked by that carefulness, accuracy and thoroughness that characterize all of Prof. Ladds work. The task he has accomplished was by no means a slight one as those familiar with the German of Lotze will recognize, arid if the English reader still finds difficulties in the way of a clear apprehension of the teaching of Lotze we must remind him that these difficulties cannot be removed by a trans- lation however excellent it may be. Only a mastery of the German language and a familiarity with those conceptions peculiar to German philosophy ~an render the study of any German author free from obstacles. BJERRJNG5 THE OFFICES OF THE OBJENTAL Cuuncri.*~The introduction to this volume sets forth the authorities for Dogma in the Eastern Church; the rites, as regards the form and decora- tion of the church edifice, the holy vessels, the vestments, the services, and the ecclesiastical officers of different grades; and the reli~ious manners and customs in vogue in the east. Then follows the Nocturnal service on the eve of a festival, the Litur- gies of Chrysostom and Basil, and the forms in use in special services, baptism, marriage, ordination, etc. The increased inter- est that is felt, from different motives, in the Eastern Church will conspire with the greater attention now paid to the whole subject of public worship, to secure attention to this compilation * The Offices of the Oriental Church, with an Historical Introduction. Edited by Rev. NIcHOLAs BJERRING. New York: A. U F. Randolph & Co. t52 Notices of New Books. by a priest of the Russian Church who is doubtless qualified for the task which he has here accomplished. MEYERS COMMENTARY ON MATTHEw.*~Professor Crooks of the Drew Theological School is the editor of the American reprint of the translation of Meyers volume on Matthew. The editor has not furnished much additional matter from his own pen. In an extended preface, however, he enters into an examination of Meyers views on the origin and mutual relation of the synoptical gospels. In the course of this discussion he controverts the German scholars opinions on various topics which bear on the subject of inspiration. Dr. Crooks is an excellent scholar. We cannot, however, sympathize with the tone or contents of all his strictures. We trust that Meyer will be read by our American students, and that they will judge of his criticisms for them- selves, without a preconceived prejudice derived from the protests of his American editors. THE WOMAN QUESTION IN EURoPE.tThe unity of this vol- ume is only such as could be imparted to it by the very general title given above. Its contents were contributed by more than a score of different writers, mostly women, and were originally composed in six different languages. We have Woman in Suf- frage, Education, Medicine, Industry, Philanthropy, etc., accord- ing to facts collected from no fewer than sixteen European coun- tries, and from the Orient. It is emphatically a book of details, rather than principles, a store-house of facts rather than a philosophical study (vii.). As such it is worthy of commenda- tion to all who either have an interest in this class of facts for mere purposes of information, or wish to build theories concern- ing the sphere and capacity of woman upon a wider than the usual induction. There is danger, of course, that the impression made be one of confused interest in so much matter of fact rather than of intelligent conviction, on the ground of well- defined principles. * Criticcd and Exegetical Hand-Book to the Gospel of Matthew. By H. A. W. MEYER, Th.D. The English translation, edited by George R. Crooks, D.D., Pro- fessor in Drew Theological Seminary. New York: Funk & Wagnalls. 1884. ~ The Woman Question in Europe: A Series of Original Essays. Edited by THEODORE STANTON, M.A., with an Introduction by FRANCES POWER COBBE.

t52 Notices of New Books. by a priest of the Russian Church who is doubtless qualified for the task which he has here accomplished. MEYERS COMMENTARY ON MATTHEw.*~Professor Crooks of the Drew Theological School is the editor of the American reprint of the translation of Meyers volume on Matthew. The editor has not furnished much additional matter from his own pen. In an extended preface, however, he enters into an examination of Meyers views on the origin and mutual relation of the synoptical gospels. In the course of this discussion he controverts the German scholars opinions on various topics which bear on the subject of inspiration. Dr. Crooks is an excellent scholar. We cannot, however, sympathize with the tone or contents of all his strictures. We trust that Meyer will be read by our American students, and that they will judge of his criticisms for them- selves, without a preconceived prejudice derived from the protests of his American editors. THE WOMAN QUESTION IN EURoPE.tThe unity of this vol- ume is only such as could be imparted to it by the very general title given above. Its contents were contributed by more than a score of different writers, mostly women, and were originally composed in six different languages. We have Woman in Suf- frage, Education, Medicine, Industry, Philanthropy, etc., accord- ing to facts collected from no fewer than sixteen European coun- tries, and from the Orient. It is emphatically a book of details, rather than principles, a store-house of facts rather than a philosophical study (vii.). As such it is worthy of commenda- tion to all who either have an interest in this class of facts for mere purposes of information, or wish to build theories concern- ing the sphere and capacity of woman upon a wider than the usual induction. There is danger, of course, that the impression made be one of confused interest in so much matter of fact rather than of intelligent conviction, on the ground of well- defined principles. * Criticcd and Exegetical Hand-Book to the Gospel of Matthew. By H. A. W. MEYER, Th.D. The English translation, edited by George R. Crooks, D.D., Pro- fessor in Drew Theological Seminary. New York: Funk & Wagnalls. 1884. ~ The Woman Question in Europe: A Series of Original Essays. Edited by THEODORE STANTON, M.A., with an Introduction by FRANCES POWER COBBE.

t52 Notices of New Books. by a priest of the Russian Church who is doubtless qualified for the task which he has here accomplished. MEYERS COMMENTARY ON MATTHEw.*~Professor Crooks of the Drew Theological School is the editor of the American reprint of the translation of Meyers volume on Matthew. The editor has not furnished much additional matter from his own pen. In an extended preface, however, he enters into an examination of Meyers views on the origin and mutual relation of the synoptical gospels. In the course of this discussion he controverts the German scholars opinions on various topics which bear on the subject of inspiration. Dr. Crooks is an excellent scholar. We cannot, however, sympathize with the tone or contents of all his strictures. We trust that Meyer will be read by our American students, and that they will judge of his criticisms for them- selves, without a preconceived prejudice derived from the protests of his American editors. THE WOMAN QUESTION IN EURoPE.tThe unity of this vol- ume is only such as could be imparted to it by the very general title given above. Its contents were contributed by more than a score of different writers, mostly women, and were originally composed in six different languages. We have Woman in Suf- frage, Education, Medicine, Industry, Philanthropy, etc., accord- ing to facts collected from no fewer than sixteen European coun- tries, and from the Orient. It is emphatically a book of details, rather than principles, a store-house of facts rather than a philosophical study (vii.). As such it is worthy of commenda- tion to all who either have an interest in this class of facts for mere purposes of information, or wish to build theories concern- ing the sphere and capacity of woman upon a wider than the usual induction. There is danger, of course, that the impression made be one of confused interest in so much matter of fact rather than of intelligent conviction, on the ground of well- defined principles. * Criticcd and Exegetical Hand-Book to the Gospel of Matthew. By H. A. W. MEYER, Th.D. The English translation, edited by George R. Crooks, D.D., Pro- fessor in Drew Theological Seminary. New York: Funk & Wagnalls. 1884. ~ The Woman Question in Europe: A Series of Original Essays. Edited by THEODORE STANTON, M.A., with an Introduction by FRANCES POWER COBBE.

THE NEW EiN& LANDER. No. CLXXXV. MARCH. 1885. ARTICLE 1.THE LORDS AND THE PEOPLE. THE defeat of the Representation of the People Bill by the Peers last summer and the resulting political crisis have led many Englishmen to ask again, shall the House of Lords con- tinue to exist as a legislative assembly? T~hose who hold that in these times such an assembly, irresponsible and unrepre- sentative, is an anomaly and ought to be abolished have increased in number and have denounced the action of the Lords in very emphatic language. Large public meetings have been held to express the feeling of the people, and the resolution passed by the House of Commons in the year 1649 that the House of Lords in Parliament is useless, dangerous, and ought to be abolished, has been adopted with great enthusiasm. At the last Trades Union Congress, which was held at Aberdeen, in September, it was resolved that this Congress is of opinion that the time has come when the hereditary principle should be removed from our constitution, and calls upon the government to bring in, as soon as possible after the passing of the Franchise Bill, a measure dealing in a vigorous and comprehensive manner with voL. viii. 1 154 The Lords and the People. [March, this important subject. A Liberal Conference, composed of delegates from a large number of Liberal associations, and presided over by Mr. John Morley, in July last, resolved unanimously, that in the opinion of this meeting the habitual disregard of the national will by tbe House of Lords in delay- ing, mutilating and rejecting legislation demanded by the constituencies and approved by the House of Commons ren- ders necessary such a reform of the constitution as will put an end to the power of the Honse of Lords to thwart and delay the will of the people. Mr. Gladstone, in the great speeches which he made to his Midlothian constituents last September, was careful to abstain from using direct threats against the Lords, and tried to allay the general feeling of hostility to them. Notwithstanding his magical eloquence and the great love of the people for him, many of his hearers heard his appeal for calmness and moderation and his declaration that the House of Lords might still be of great use to the nation with impatience, and received with enthusiasm any words of censure of or warning to the Peers. The vote on Mr. Laboucheres resolution in the House of Commons, November 21, 1884, calling for the reform of the House of Lords, was very significant. Notwithstanding the fact that Mr. Gladstone, and all the other ministers, except Mr. Chamber- lain and Sir Charles IDilke, opposed the motion, the vote stood 71 in favor to 145 against the resolution. Much dissatisfaction has been expressed among certain sec- tions of the English public with the compromise brought about by the government with the Lords on the Franchise Question. It was asserted that since the Lords had placed themselves in oppositiou to the will of the people in a matter of the greatest importance, it was a great mistake to neglect so good an opportunity for bringing about a radical change in the composition or powers of the Upper House. The ~jpectator thus expressed the sentiments of a large number of intelligent Englishmen on the subject: The existence of their House has become inconsistent with the political methods of the time and with popular self-government; the House can not and will not aid in those reforms in municipal government and the tenure of land which the people demand; and the struggle to 1885.1 The Lords and the People. 155 suppress it cannot be postponed for more than a few years. As it must go, it had better go now while men can still reason calmly, while Mr. Gladstone is present with his moderating weight, and while the country is preserved by the all-pervad- ing loyalty to the present Queen from the otherwise inevitable rise of an avowedly Republican party. These are some of the indications that the drift of public sentiment is setting more and more strongly against this most ancient and honorable House. On the other hand large con- servative meetings have approved and commended the course of the House of Lords in resisting the attempt of the Liberal majority in the House of Commons to force the Conservatives to agree to such a rearrangement of the constkuencies as should perpetuate the power of the Liberals in the govern- ment. The leader of the Conservative Peers boldly asserted in closing a defense of the action of the Lords, Far from it being the fact that there exists a feeling in the country against the House of Lords, that assembly stands higher in the public estimation than the House of Commons. We require, says a vigorous defender of the Lords, some safeguard against the fatal rashness of popular movements and against the disregard of justice, honor and prudence to which popular excitement would sometimes in its haste drive us. As it is the duty of the House of Lords to delay matters until it is cer- tain of the full and perfect assent of the people, its action must often be for the time at variance with the impulse of the multitude, and unpopular. It is in the nature of the populace to be always asserting itself, always proclaiming its rights and grievances, while aristocracy is by nature calm, dignified, observant, and speaks and acts only in the emergency. Lord Salisbury has declared that as a check to hasty legislation the operations of the House of Lords have been highly and sin- gularly beneficial, that the path of progress has been in one straightforward line, deformed by no sinuosities and by no reversals ; that each step has been a certain step, and its permanence and security have been consecrated by the full knowledge and acquiescence of the people. Notwithstanding these confident declarations there can, I think, be no doubt that there is a rapidly growing conviction [March, 156 The Lords and the People. that the House of Lords as at present constituted, is out of harmony with the political methods and aspirations of tbe times, and that, if it is to exist at all, as a legislative assembly, either its composition or its powers or both must be consider- ably modified. The great majority of the English people are, however, not yet ready to see an institution so venerable and with a history and traditions so noble and honorable abolished. For centuries the House of Lords did good service in behalf of the liberties of the people, standing between them and the absolute power of the sovereign. Its present position and relations to the other branches of the government are the results of accident and development rather than of the design of its founders. The Witenagemot of Saxon times was in theory an assembly of all the noble and wise men of the nation. Practi- cally it was doubtless composed of the more wealthy and powerful who could afford to leave their ordinary pursuits and bear the expenses of the journey. The Norman conqueror and his successors followed the example of the Saxon rulers and called together an assembly of the wise and noble men of the Kingdomthe bishops, abbots, earls, and baronsto de- liberate on the customs and interests of the realm. The lesser barons, unable to bear the expense of all appearing in person, sent representatives. The king summoned by name the bishops and greater barons and directed the sheriffs to send representa- tives of the lesser barons. The whole council was an assembly of the kings tenants in chief, even the clergy being summoned because they represented great real estate interests. The landed interests were the only interests represented. In time towns grew populous and rich and the mercantile interests became important. Simon de IMloutfort in 1264 found it desirable in an emergency to have representatives from these towns and he accordingly directed the sheriffs to return not only two knights for each shire, but also two burgesses for each borough, and soon afterwards the crown began regularly to follow this precedent. IDown to the middle of the fourteenth century there were three and possibly four houses of Parliament The clergy formed one house; the Lords a second, and possibly the knights of the shires and the borough members each another, although 1885.] The Lords and the People. 157 the better opinion seems to be that the knights and burgesses together formed one house. The chief fnnction of these Par- liaments was to vote supplies of money for the government. The barons at iRunnymede compelled King John to agree not to exact any aids, except the three regular ones, without the consent of Parliament. In 1295 Edward I. adopted as a con- stitutional principle the legal maxim of Justinian, that that which touches all must be approved by all, and in 1322 Par- liament embodied this same principle into a formal statute. It early became a well settled principle that no tax was legal unless sanctioned by those who paid it. As often, therefore, as the crown had need of money, so often was it necessary to summon the taxpayers to make contributions. The clergy in their own separate chamber voted taxes to be paid out of the church revenues, the Lords temporal agreed by themselves to pay their scutages and aids, and the knights of the shires and the representative burgesses, possibly in separate chambers, levied their tenths and fiftecuths. The clergy, finding that they could vote their taxes in the provincial convocations, were excused from attending the meetings of Parliament, that were held for raising revenue only. For a time it was doubt- ful whether the knights of the shires would unite with the Lords or with the borough members to form one chamber. In the end the method by which the various members of these Parliaments were summoned seems to have formed the basis for their division into two houses. The Lords, spiritual and temporal, who were summoned by name and who by reason of their individually representing great estates in land, caine regu- larly to the successive Parliaments, in time coalesced into one house, while the representatives of the commoners, whether chosen for the counties or boroughs, serving in many instances only for a single session, finally found their way into one and the same assembly. The lay peerages were at first not hereditary, but the custom naturally sprang up very early of summoning the son who inherited the lands of the great tenant who had been summoned regularly, and, as the tendency to hereditary succession was very strong in those ages, the custom speedily came to be regarded as binding on the king. The legislative powers of the early Parliaments were by no 158 The Lord8 and the Peoyle. [March, means so well established as their powers over taxation. The formula now in use, Be it enacted by the Queens most excel- lent Majesty by and with the advice and consent of the Lords, spiritual and temporal, and Commons in this present Parliament assembled, is a relic of the time when the Crown actually did to a very considerable extent make the laws. Sometimes the ordinances of the king in council had the force of laws equally with the statutes enacted in Parliament. Sometimes the king claimed the sole power to enact laws. In the long struggle against the claims of the king to make the laws and to lay taxes without the consent of the taxpayers, the Lords by reason of their wealth and power, made the most effective opposition. During the civil Wars that preceded the accession of Henry IY. many of the most powerful noblesJell in battle, and others lost their heads on the scaffold, so that the Lords were greatly weakened and no longer able to oppose successfully the preten- sions of the crown, to which the Commons could offer but a feeble resistance. For a century and a half the sovereign ruled with comparatively little restraint from Parliament. Parlia- ment, which had before met regularly every year, was sum- moned only at such times as suited the purpose of the crown, which practically made and nnmade the laws. Benevolences, nominally granted but really extorted, frequently took the place of taxes in supplying the kings treasury and obviated the necessity of holding Parliaments to vote supplies. While Par- liament still retained the shadow of authority, the substance of it was yielded up to the king. The despotic powers which Henry Viii. and Elizabeth wielded, their disregard of the rights of the Lords and Commons alike and the methods by which they contrived to do without meetings of Parliament, taxing the people without the peoples consent and substituting their own personal wills for the laws, and the struggles against arbitrary taxation under later reigns, are ruatters of familiar history. Meanwhile, however, the country was gradually recovering from the terrible effects of the wars of the IRoses; the Com- mons were becoming more and more prosperous, and the Lords also were regaining some of the wealth and power which they had lost. On the dissolution of the monasteries something like 1885.] The Lord8 and the Pec~ple. 159 a fifth of the land in the kingdom was distributed to the nobles and gentry. The old noble families were enriched and a new nobility was created. Before the dissolution the Lords spiritual had outnumbered the Lords temporal; after the dissolution and the removal from the npper house of the heads of the monasteries, the Lords temporal predominated. The great families founded by the lands and peerages conferred by the sovereign on his favorites soon joined the old aristocracy and the Commons in their struggle against the despotic power of the Crown. The Tudors had in the main ruled with but little check from the opposition; the Stuarts in the end found the opposition too strong for theum. The power of the Crown was broken by Cromwell and his followers, and with the revolution of 1688 the struggle ended, the balance of power passing to the Lords and rich commoners. The noble and wealthy families practically ruled England for a century and a half. Their influence was all powerful in the House of Commons. Down to the middle of the seven- teenth century, the Crown had from time to time summoned representatives from new boroughs, as they became rich and populous, or for personal reasons. After the revolution of 1688, however, this power ceased to be exercised. The old boroughs, many of which, by reason of the fluctuations of trade and population, had sadly declined in importance and were owned by the aristocracy, continued to send representa- tives to Parliament, while the rich and prosperous new towns were unrepresented. In the early part of this century Corfe was a ruin, Gatton a park, Old Sarum a mound, Dunwich submerged nuder the sea, and many of the other boroughs had but few electors. Whether the electors were few or many. the will of the patron was commonly all powerful with the voters, and with the member who was chosen. It has been said that in 1801, of the 658 members of the House of Commons, 425 owed their elections to the nominations or recommendations of 252 patrons. As the great new manufacturing communities in the North of England became important from a business and industrial point of view, they asserted their claim to be heard in the legislature of the nation, and Parliamentary IReform became the burning political question of the time. In the 160 The Lor~ds and the People. [March, latter part of the eighteenth century proposals for reform had been made but to no purpose. The wealthy oligarchy who constituted the House of Lords and owned so large a part of the house of Commons, were unable to see the inevitable tendencies of things, and refused to give up their pocket boroughs or to extend the right of voting beyond the very limited circle to which it was restricted in most of the constit- uencies. It was only after the most obstinate resistance that the Lords were linally forced to yield to the movement for reform. E7en the limited and often dependant constituencies had become thoroughly convinced of the need of great changes. The great distress prevailing throughout the country in 182930 added to the intensity of the discontent, and to the violence of the agitation. The revolution in France, that drove Charles X. from the throne, gave additional impetus to the movement for more popular government in England. On the defeat and retirement of the Duke of Wellington from the government in October, 1830, Lord Grey agreed to form a ministry only on condition that Parliamentary Reform should be made a government measure. The slender majority of the government on the second reading of the bill, and its subse- quent defeat on an amendment, led to a new election in which reform was made the chief issue. Notwithstanding the oppo- sition of the Peers and great boroughowners, and the persistent and systematic obstruction when the reform bill was brought before the new Parliament the measure passed in the Com- mons by a majority of 106. When the Lords threw out the Bill, the country became intensely excited. But even the tumultuous meetings th~it were held everywhere, the mobs and riots that occurred in many places, and the attacks that were made on castles, churches, cathedrals, and on some of the Lords whose opposition had been conspicuous failed to con- vince the Lords that they could no longer resist the popular demand. When after a brief prorogation Parliament again met and the Commons passed the Reform Bill, the upper house indicated a determination to again defeat the measure. The King under tremendous pressure and with a most bloody revo- lution threatening the country, finally gave his permission to Earl Grey and his Chancellor, Lord Brougham, to create 1885.1 like Lords and the People. 161 enough new Peers to insure the passing of the Reform Bill, first calling up Peers eldest sons. Further resistance was of course useless and the Bill was allowed to pass without the actual use of the power to crate new Peers. The revolution thus accomplished transferred the balance of power to the House of Commons, and recognized the right of popular representation in that house. One hundred and forty- two seats were taken from the decayed boroughs and distribu- ted among the new aud more populous and prosperous commu- nities, and nearly half a million more of the people were given the right of voting for representatives. Rarely, perhaps never, in the history of the world has so great a revolution been accomplished without bloodshed. The victory of the Com- mons and people was twofold; first, over the Crown which would probably now not dare to oppose their will, and second, over the Lords, who no longer pretend to have the right to carry their opposition to any measure that has been passed by the Commons further than to give the latter time in the light of public sentiment to reconsider their former decision. Lord Salisbury has frequently declared that it is not the function of the House of Lords under any circumstances to reverse any decision of the constituencies clearly expressed by them at the polls, and in a recent speech he said, We do not shrink from bowing to the opinion of the people, whatever that opinion may be. Nevertheless the influence of the Lords in legislative affairs since the Reform Act of 1832 has been by no means insignifi- cant. It has been exerted, however, almost entirely in pre- venting, delaying or modifying legislation rather than in devis- ing and hastening the passage of new laws. From the very nature of its constitution the House of Lords must be con- servative and often in opposition to popular movements and progressive tendencies. Hence it has come to be regarded as its duty to delay and prevent hasty legislation. The Lords would not now dare to place themselves in opposition to a measure which the voters of the United Kingdom had clearly declared themselves in favor of at an election. When, however, there has been any room for doubt about the will of the people or when the measure has not been of 162 The Lord8 and the People. [March, enough interest to the great body of electors to make its rejection likely to lead to violent agitation, the Lords have not hesitated to defeat or delay very desirable legislation. Great wrongs have sometimes been maintained for many years by the exercise of this obstructive power. The movement for the removal of the disabilities of the Jews was without doubt a most just and righteous movement, and yet the Lords resisted it most stubbornly for twenty-five years, and not until the Bill had been passed a number of times by the House of Commons, and the agitation had been kept up for a quarter of a century, did the Lords permit it to become a law. The Bill to enable Dissenters to take degrees without signing the Thirty-nine Articles first passed the House of Commons in 1813 by a majority of 321 to 147. It was, however, rejected by the Lords, and only after long continued discussions and agitations was it finally allowed to pass in 1872. Then there is the case of Ireland. It has been obvious ever since the beginning of this century that remedial legislation of some sort was necessary for the peace and prosperity of the Irish people. The moderate measures of relief which were from time to time introduced into Parliament were defeated either by the Lords or mainly through their influence until the accumulated discontent com- pelled the enacting of measures of a much more radical charac- ter. In these and nnmerous other instances of less importance the Lords dared to oppose the will of the Commons and the people because the popular interest in the measnres was not so great and general as to be likely to lead to riots or dangerous agitation in consequence of the defeat of the Bills. It is claimed that in almost every instance these measures are now generally conceded even by the Lords to have been salutary and expedient at the time of their rejections. The influence of the Lords is exerted not only in defeating, delaying, or modifying such Bills as come before them, but also in preventing the introduction of measures that are certain to encounter their opposition, and in greatly changing and restricting the scope of some measures in the hope that in this way they may be allowed to pass the hostile Upper Chamber. Sometimes perhaps this silent influence is good; often it de- feats or delays or mutilates much needed legislation. 1885.1 The Lorde and the People. 163 The claim of the Lords that they have represented the deliberate judgment of the nation and not merely a momentary impulse or feeling which a little deliberation would reverse, is pretty clearly not borne out by the facts. On the contrary, as the people have come to be more fully represented in the House of Commons, the power of and respect for the House of Lords has declined. Of the twelve Parliaments elected since 1832 ten have been Liberal, one Conservative throughout, and one Conservative at the beginning and Liberal at the end of its existence. For about forty-four of the last fifty-two years the Conservative majority of the House of Lords has been opposed to the Liberal majority in the House of Commons, the latter representing, although imperfectly, the people. Each extension of the suffrage has proved advantageous to the Liberal party. The House of Lords has lost a good deal of ground during the past fifty years. Formerly it exerted no small influence in taxation and in the financial affairs of the country. It lost this however by its unreasonable objection to the bill to remove the tax on paper. It was for centuries the Supreme Court of Final Appeal from the highest courts of the realm, and, in theory, it is so still; practically, however, the jurisdiction has been exer- cised only by those Peers who were holding or who had held high judicial positions, and in 1876 an arrangement was made by which the Lords vested the appellate power in a small num- ber of Lords of Appeal created Barons for that purpose for life only. The hereditary Peers therefore practically no longer constitute the Supreme Court of Final Appeal. The right of voting by proxy, once considered of importance, is no longer exercised. The House of Commons on the other hand has gained immensely in power and influence. Important legislation regu- larly begins in the Commons. Parliamentary government is now understood to mean government by the majority of the House of Commons. The power of the Prime Minister, rep- resenting the majority in the House of Commons, to resort to the royal prerogative to create enough new Peers to overcome a hostile majority, makes it impossible for the Lords in any case of importance to carry opposition to the Commons beyond a certain point. This well nigh absolute supremacy of the 1434 The Lords and the People. [March, House of Commons in the government seems to many, who are accustomed to regard two legislative chambers as essential to the safe working of representative government, fraught with danger. Mr. Blackstone considered the distribution of power between the Crown, Lords, and Commons as essential to the preservation of the liberties of the English people. He thought that the excellency of the English Government con- sisted in the fact that all its parts formed a mutual check upon each other, the nobility being a check upon the people, the people a check upon the nobility, and the king a check upon both. In this country we are accustomed to regard the checks placed upon our Congress by the veto power of the President, the Supreme Court, and our written Constitution, and upon the House of IRepresentatives by the Senate, as among the greatest safeguards of our country. Those who understand how greatly needed the strength and good influences of our Senate are in legislative matters, will expect to see an unsteadi- ness in the course of the English Government, hasty and ill- considered legislation, a larger amount of corruption, and not a little oppression, as the results of government by wholly unchecked temporary majorities. The experience in our national and State governments, in the British colonies and in France is decidedly in favor of two legislative chambers. Many Englishmen who are strongly opposed to the hered- itary principle recognize this, and are unwilling to see the House of Lords deprived of its legislative functions until a new and better second chamber has been devised to take its place. Many, admitting that it is by no means an ideal second chamber, still claim that it is of great use to the nation~ that the social influence of many of its members, by reason of their~ rank, wealth, and intelligence is great and salutary, that the work of its select committees is of great value, and that the discussions of important measures by its members, who are entirely independent of popular passion and many of whom are men of great ability, are sometimes extremely valuable. Mr. John Bright, recognizing the fact that the English people are not ready to abolish the House of Lords, proposes that the Lords be allowed to veto a bill passed by the Commons once, but that if the same bill is passed, by the Commons at 1885.] like Lords and the People. 165 the next session they shall be bound to accept it, not even hav- ing authority to insist upon their amendments to it. This would give the Commons an opportunity to reconsider doubt- ful legislation in the light of the criticism of the Lords and of the sentiments expressed by their constituents during the vaca- tion of Parliament, and might sometimes prevent hasty legis- lation. Mr. Bright thinks such a limitation of the legislative power of the Peers would not diminish their dignity or their social and personal influence, as the disuse of the veto power did not lessen the diguity of and respect for the Crown. Most of those however who desire to reform the Upper House are looking toward such changes as shall increase rather than diminish the power and influence of the Lords in legisla- tive matters. To this end it is strongly urged that the House should be made more representative. Lord IRoseberry, in a very important speech made a few months ago, in moving that a select committee be appointed to consider the best means of promoting the efficiency of this House, directed attention to its non-representative character as one of the chief sources of its weakness. The assembly contained a number of men of the very highest distinction, of great ability, great business capacity, and great common sense. We have in this House twenty-seven Bishops, every one of whom must be con- sidered to have wou his way to his position in this House by sheer merit and by hard work. . . . We have twenty-four Cabinet Ministers, or Peers who have been Cabinet Ministers; we have four Ambassadors, or Peers who have been Ambassa- dors; we have six Governors General, or Governors-Principal; and, we have eight very eminent Judges, besides the two Chancellors who sit in this Honse. . . . Besides these there are no less than forty Admirals, Generals, and Ministers of rank inferior to Cabinet rank, past or present. . . . I[ have designated 1116 individuals who would gladly be included in any second chamber in the world. The decisions of these men did not have anything like the weight they deserved, largely because they represented too much one classthe land- owners. The Church of England was well represented by the Bishops and there were some representatives of the Catholic Church but hardly any Dissenting Peers. Law was fairly 166 like Lord8 and the People. [March, represented and there were some representatives of science and literature. There were, however, no representatives of medi- cine, while the great colonial, commercial, and manufacturing interests of the empire were not adequately represented. We have seen that with its large Conservative majority the J{ouse does not represent the political views of the country fairly. Scotland arid Ireland are Liberal by great majorities, but of the sixteen Scotch representative Peers only two are Liberals, and of the twenty-eight Irish representatives not one belongs to the popular party. It would be an easy matter to create a large number of new Peers and in this way make the House of Lords represent the various classes and interests of the nation far more fully, and there are many advocates of this plan. The great number of new Peers who have been created during the past three centuries have done something towards keeping the House from drifting altogether away from the people, although the selections were rarely made for that purpose. One is surprised to find that Henry Vii. summoned only twenty-eight lay Peers to his first Parliament, and that the largest number summoned by Henry VIII. to any Parliament was fifty-eight. By 1640 the number had increased to 119; at the death of William III. it had reached 192; at the death of George II., 229; at the death of George III., 339; at the death of George IV., 396; at the death of William IV., 456, and in the reign of Queen Victoria it has been increased to about 520. It would be necessary to create at least a hundred new Peers now in order to give the popular party anythimg like its proper representation. There are grave objections to this; it would take out of the House of Commons and the more active and influential political career which it offers, too many of the ablest and best men; the expense of sustaining a peerage is so great that many of the men best qualified in other respects to repre- sent important interests would be unable to accept the honor; and in the next generatiou many of the sons of the new Peers would fall into the old conservative grooves and another rein- forcement from the men who would represent the popular movements and interests of the times would be demanded. In view of the apparently inevitable tendency of hereditary 1885.] The Lords and the People. 16T legislators to become conservative, it has been strongly urged that the new Peers should be created for life only. The House of Lords has never been wholly hereditary. For some time before the dissolution of the monasteries the non-hereditary spiritual Peers outnumbered the lay hereditary Peers. The recent arrangement in regard to the judges introduced an additional non-hereditary element. Formerly the Crown had an undoubted right to create a Peer for life. The right, how- ever had not been exercised for several centuries, when, in 1856, Sir James Parke was created a baron for life. The Lords, however, refused to give him his seat until a new patent was issued which extended the barony to his heirs. The revival and exercise of this ancient right of the Crown could, in time, change the House so that it would be largely a non-hereditary assembly. If men were made Peers for life only, for distinguished merit in the house of Commons or in some one of the important professions, enterprises or industries of the country, the decisions of the Upper Hou,se would carry far greater weight than they do at present. The chief objec- tion urged to the plan is that if the selection were made by the Prime Minister, it would place too much power in his hands. The number could be limited, however, or there could possibly be some better way of making the selection than by entrusting it to the Prime Minister. While there are a large number of very eminent and able men among the Lords, there are also a large number who have no ability or aptitude for, or interest in legislative matters, and who rarely or never enter the House except to vote on some important measure, at the direction of the leader of their party. This fact has led many to advise that the legislative functions be transferred to a select body of Peers chosen from the whole number, just as the judicial functions have been transferred to the law Lords. The important question would be, who shall make the selection? If the whole body of Peers should make it, the representative Peers might be all Conservati Yes; if the Prime Minister, they might be all Liberals. The suggestion that when the sphere of county government is extended, they might be chosen by the county government boards and repre- sent the counties, as our Senators represent the States, has, 168 like Lords and the People. [March, from an A merican point of view, much in its favor. Great admiration has recently been expressed by several eminent English statesmen for the great efficiency and power of our Senate as a second chamber; Mr. Gladstone has repeatedly spoken in the strongest terms of its merits, Lord IRoseberry has declared that probably no intelligent man wonid deny that the United States Senate is in point of weight, of power and of anthority the greatest second chamber in the world, and many others have nttered similar sentiments. This plan may therefore prove acceptable to the people generally. Its suc- cessfnl working would involve the conferring of life peerages on large numbers of men who have become distinguished in various pursuits and professions, and the opening of the House of Commons to such of the Peers as chose to become candi- dates for election. In this way those of the Peers who have either inherited or acquired great ability as statesmen would have much more useful and influential careers opening before them than are now possible, for if they should be chosen to be representative Peers their deliberations and decisions would carry far greater weight than at present, because of their repre- sentative character, and if they should enter the House of Commons, they would find opportunities for exerting a much more direct and powerful influence on the legislation and government of the country than they now have in the Upper House. The growth of the power of the masses of the English people in governmental affairs during this century has been mar- velously rapid. The franchise has been extended from its very narrow limits until now household suffrage has become an accomplished fact, while successive redistribntions of seats have taken the greater part of the political power from the nobles and great borough-owners and distributed it among the house- holders of the United Kingdom. We cannot, of course, pre- dict the outcome of these great transfers and distributions of power. There can, however, scarcely be a doubt that if the House of Lords is to continue to exist, either its legislative fune- tions will be more and more restricted, giving the people more absolute power in the House of Commons, or its composition will be so changed that it will represent far more fully and fairly the people of the country. 1885.1 Samuel Well8 IVilliam8. 169 ARTICLE 11.A SKETCH OF THE LIFE AND SERVICES OF THE LATE S. WELLS WILLIAMS, LL.D., PROFESSOR OF THE CHINESE LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE TN YALE COLLEGE. WHEN one who has been widely known and highly honored, and has drawn to himself a large share of the respect and affection of his fellow men is removed from his earthly labors it is prescribed alike by regard for the dead, and by what is dne to the living, that some record of the chief incidents of his life and services be presented to the pnblic, and some expression given to the jnst estimate and affection in which he was held. The only fitness the writer can claim for nndertak- ing snch a task in regard to the distinguished author and mis- sionary, the late S. Wells Williams, LL.D., tidings of whose death have been recently received in China, is a sincere respect and affection for the deceased, and a friendship extending over almost thirty years. Samuel Wells Williams was born in Utica, in the State of New York, Sept. 22, 18 t2. His father, William Williams, was in a prosperous business as a pnblisher and bookseller of that city. The family, after having come from England among the earliest settlers of New England, took np its resi- dence in Massachusetts, in the town of Roxbnry, now a part of Boston, from whence his father removed to New York. Dr. Williams was the eldest of thirteen brothers, three of whom engaged in business, while one, the late W. Frederic Williams, became a missionary .to Turkey. While a lad he acqnired the art of printing in the office of his father, and he also improved his ample opportunities for study. Subseqnently he went to the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, N. Y., to complete his edncation. In his boyhood he was an associate and school-fellow of James D. Dana; and the two, who had always been warm friends, were bronght together again in later years as Pro- fessors in Yale College, the one of Geology and Mineralogy, voL. viii. 2

1885.1 Samuel Well8 IVilliam8. 169 ARTICLE 11.A SKETCH OF THE LIFE AND SERVICES OF THE LATE S. WELLS WILLIAMS, LL.D., PROFESSOR OF THE CHINESE LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE TN YALE COLLEGE. WHEN one who has been widely known and highly honored, and has drawn to himself a large share of the respect and affection of his fellow men is removed from his earthly labors it is prescribed alike by regard for the dead, and by what is dne to the living, that some record of the chief incidents of his life and services be presented to the pnblic, and some expression given to the jnst estimate and affection in which he was held. The only fitness the writer can claim for nndertak- ing snch a task in regard to the distinguished author and mis- sionary, the late S. Wells Williams, LL.D., tidings of whose death have been recently received in China, is a sincere respect and affection for the deceased, and a friendship extending over almost thirty years. Samuel Wells Williams was born in Utica, in the State of New York, Sept. 22, 18 t2. His father, William Williams, was in a prosperous business as a pnblisher and bookseller of that city. The family, after having come from England among the earliest settlers of New England, took np its resi- dence in Massachusetts, in the town of Roxbnry, now a part of Boston, from whence his father removed to New York. Dr. Williams was the eldest of thirteen brothers, three of whom engaged in business, while one, the late W. Frederic Williams, became a missionary .to Turkey. While a lad he acqnired the art of printing in the office of his father, and he also improved his ample opportunities for study. Subseqnently he went to the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, N. Y., to complete his edncation. In his boyhood he was an associate and school-fellow of James D. Dana; and the two, who had always been warm friends, were bronght together again in later years as Pro- fessors in Yale College, the one of Geology and Mineralogy, voL. viii. 2 170 Samuel TYells IYilliams. [March, which chair he had long and honorably filled, and the other of the Chinese Langaage and Literature. His coming to China was a sudden movement. The invita- tion to take the charge of the mission press at Canton was answered in the affirmative within twenty-four hours from the time of its reception. Although the decision was so hastily made, it was never repented of during his forty-three years of labor in China. On the contrary, he often spoke of it as a cause of rejoicing and thanksgiving to God. He reached China on the day before he was twenty-one years of age, and landed in the city of Canton with his fellow voyager, the Rev. Ira Tracy, on the 26th of October, 1833. The name of the ship on which they came, the Morrison, and their gratui- tous passage, given by Messrs. Oliphant & Co., indicated the attachment of that firm to the cause of missions in China. On his arrival Mr. Williams found but three Protestant missionaries in China proper, the Rev. iDr. Morrison, who with unwearied diligence had pursued his solitary labors since 1807; also Messrs. Bridgman and Abed, who arrived in 1830. The Rev. Edwin Stevens, who afterwards became a missionary to the Chinese, was then Seamans Chaplain at Canton; and Mr. Charles GUtzlaff had already excited great interest by his voyages along the coast of China. Besides these there were six missionaries to the Chinese scattered in different places in the Indian Archipelago. Mr. Williams work was ready to his hand. A press, sent from America in 1831, had been put into operation early in 1832 under the direction of Mr. Bridgman, who then com- menced the publication of the Chinese Repository, of which he was also the editor. The superintendence of this press devolved upon Mr. Williams from the time of his arrival in 1833 to the time of its destruction by fire in 1856. He also assisted Mr. Bridgman in editing the Repository, which in its last three volumes fell entirely under his care. The object of this journal, issued monthly, was to make Europeans acquainted with the great empire of China, its dominions, government, language, literature, religions, social customs, and all that pertained to the Chinese people; to pro- mote also in every way the spread of the Christian faith 1885.1 Samuel Wells TYilhiams. 111 among all the multitudes of Eastern Asia. With such an object Mr. Williams was heartily in sympathy, and he entered with avidity into the necessary studies and researches, so that we find no less than eighty articles from his pen scattered through the twenty volumes of the Repository, besides many shorter paragraphs, notices of books, and passing events. Mr. Williams also assisted in the preparation of Bridgman s Uhinese Chrestomatky, furnishing about one-third of the 700 pages of this volume (royal 8vo), which was published in the year 1841. In the year 1842 he published his Easy lessons, 304 pages, 8vo, a work intended for beginners in the study of the Chinese language, which was followed in 1844 by an lish and Chinese Vocabulary in the Court Dialect, also an octavo volume of 440 pages. This effort shows that his mind was early directed to the study of lexicography, and was a preparation for his later and more complete works in the same direction. In the same year appeared from his pen a small manual of Chinese Topo~jraphy, of 103 pages, 8vo, being an alphabetical list of all the Provinces, Departments, and Districts of the Chinese Empire, with the latitude and longitude of each; also his Commercial Guide, consisting of a collection of important facts in regard to trade with China, a description of the open ports, sailing directions, etc., etc. This work he re-wrote repeatedly, and enlarged as trade expanded, new ports were opened, and new treaties formed, until in its fifth edition, printed at llongkong in the year 1863, and containing 653 pages, 8vo, it has become a most valuable source of informa- tion in all business transactions ~with the Chinese. During this early period of his life he availed himself of the opportunity, afforded by the presence of several ship- wrecked Japanese sailors in Macao to gain some knowledge of the Japanese language, into which he translated the book of Genesis, and the gospel of Matthew. The Japanese referred to, after a great variety of misfortunes had been brought to Macao by the humane efforts of Europeans to have them restored to their native country. To carry out this purpose the ship Morrison, belonging to Messrs. Oliphant & Co., and fitted out by them, had made an unsuccessful attempt in 1837 172 Samuel Wells Williams. [March, to land them on their own shores. Mr. Williams accompanied this expedition, which was not without peril, owing to the unaccustomed navigation, and to the hostile fire from Japanese batteries upon their ship, and he subsequently published in the Chinese Repository an account of the various events of this early visit to the Loo Choo Islands and Japan. Although the intended kindness was so rudely repulsed, yet he was not discouraged thereby. The expedition incited him to the study of the Japanese language, and to put forth efforts for their good. We hope, he writes, that the day of their admission into the family of nations is not far distant; when the preacher of peace and truth shall be allowed access to their hamlets and towns. When the arts of western lands shall be known, and commerce, knowledge, and Christianity, with their multiplied blessings shall have full scope. . . . . Bye and bye, if God permits, we will try again. These hopes of his earlier years he lived to see realized in his later visits to that country; and he himself bore a part in the transactions by which that nation was opened to western intercourse. In the year 1844 Mr. Williams left China on his first visit to the United States, being then thirty-two years of age. He had spent eleven years in his mission field, years filled with important events in the history of foreign intercourse with China. The control of the East India Company over British trade with this empire ceased in 1834, the year after his arrival. He had seen the last of that remarkable adjustment of trade between the West and the East in the Thirteen Factories of Old Canton. Here, in this little settlement on the north bank of the Pearl rivei~, in the western suburb of Canton, the wealth, pride, culture, power, unscrupulousness, greed of gain, benevolence, learning, Christian piety, of the West had met the timidity, ignorance, weakness, duplicity, pride, contempt, politeness, acuteness, business sagacity, and probity, of the Chinese. Here the ILloppo and Cohong had met the trading companies and merchants of the English, Americans, Dutch, Prussians, Anstrians, Swedes, Danes, French, Spaniards, and Italians. Here had commenced that system of trade and inter- course with China, which has in our day assumed such vast proportions. Here had been nursed and fostered the opium 1885.1 Samuel Wells Wtlliams. 173 traffic, which now spreads its baleful influence all over the land. Here had been initiated those efforts for the enlighten- ment, healing, and Christianization of the Chinese, which now extend to all the provinces, and constitute the only hope for the future of this great nation. Canton was no longer to be the focus of influence and power. What had there been com- menced during two centuries of foreign intercourse was to be extended and diffused throughout the empire. The unsettled state of trade after the withdrawal of the East India Company, the adjustment of terms of direct inter- course between China and other nations, the protests of the Chinese government against the opium traffic, the seizure and confiscation of the opium, the war with China, the forming of treaties, and the opening of the five ports, all had occurred during these early years of the residence of Mr. Williams in Canton. Returning to the [Tnited States at this time (a journey which he accomplished by way of Egypt, Syria, and Europe), it was natural that his mind should be Allied with those events of absorbing interest, which had so recently transpired in China. A general interest had been excited in this far-off land, and Mr. Williams soon commenced a course of public lectures on various subjects connected with Qhina, its geography, history, government, religions, literature, education, intercourse with other nations, and such topics, by which he delighted and instructed many audiences. These lectures attracted general attention, and became the basis of his first edition of the Middle Kingdom, which was published in 1848, the year of his return to China. This work, which had an extensive sale, and reached its fourth edition in 1857, did much to enlighten the public mind, and substitute accuracy and veracity for romance and fiction in western views of the celestial empire. By it the author was brought prominently before the public, and he received the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws from Union College, New York. It was during this visit to the United States that the Secre- taries of his Society and other friends urged him to receive ordination as a minister of the gospeL This he steadily declined. While he had always held religious services with 174 Samuel Wells Williams. [March, the men in his office, and had preached to the Chinese on the Sabbath and other days, yet he did not feel himself called to the work of the ministry. Another line of effort had opened out before him which he conceived it his duty to pursue, and he chose to return to China in the same capacity in which he had gone there at the first. During the period before the war of 1842, the missionaries to China were unmarried. Foreigners were not allowed to bring their wives to Canton. But now, owing to the recent treaties, the conditions of life had become very different, and Dr. Williams, having been united in marriage to Miss Sarah Walworth, embarked with Mrs. Williams in June, 1848, for Canton. Here he resumed his duties as superintendent of the press, being also the editor and publisher of the Chinese Repository until it was discontinued in 1851. In the year 1853 Commodore Perry, under commission of the U. S. government to negotiate a treaty with Japan, came with his fleet into Chinese waters, and invited Dr. Williams, as the American best qualified to act as interpreter, to accompany the expedition in that capacity. For this office he was eminently fitted by his knowledge, both of the Chinese and Japanese languages, as well as by his experience in the voyage to Japan in the year 1837. In the discharge of its duties he won high commendation for his skill, tact, and fidel- ity. The expedition, having successfully completed its nego- tiations, returned to Hongkong after an absence of less than four months, and Dr. W illiaius then resumed his usual duties at Canton. In January, 1854, he again accompanied the squadron to Japan, and returned again to Canton in the latter part of the summer, the treaty having been secured, and all things arranged in a satisfactory manner. He has given an interest- ing account of these voyages to Japan, and of the negotiation of the treaty, which is published in Journal of the North China Branch of the IRoyal Asiatic Society. Excepting these periods of absence Dr. Williams remained at his post, engaged in his usual employments, after his return from the United States in 1848 until the year 1856. During these years he published annually an Anglo-Chi~nese Calendar of about 130 pages, Svo, containing much valuable informa 1885.1 Samuel Wells William~. 175 tion for residents in China. His principal work however was the preparation and pnblishing of his Tonic Dictionary of the Canton Dialect, an octavo volume of 832 pages, which has proved a valnable aid to students of that dialect, and has been recently republished in an edition carefully revised by Dr. Eitel of Hongkong. Dr. Williams services in the expedition to Japan had attracted the attention of officials of the United States government, who so represented the value of his skill and attainments at Washington that he was invited to become Secretary of the Legation of the United States in China. In the providence of God, while his decision in regard to this offer was pending, the mission press of which he had been superintendent, was consumed by fire, together with many copies of the Chinese Repository and his Tonic Dictionas~sy, besides other valuable works; while his copious fonts of Roman, Chinese, Manchu, and Japanese type were entirely ruined. There was little prospect that the press would ever be restored. Under these circumstances his way seemed plain to accept the offer of the government. In his letter resigning his connection with the American Board, which had then con- tinued twenty-three years, he writes: I do not however regard this as a final separation from your body, far less a dis- solution of my connection with Christian missions in China, and therefore desire you to look upon it as only a temporary interruption of a relation which has many probabilities of being resumed. Dr. Williams held the office of Secretary of Legation for twenty years, during which period, in intervals of the absence of any resident minister, he acted as Charg~ dAjJ~tires nine times. When he resigned his position ii1 1876 he held the oldest commission in the diplomatic corps of the government. Having so extensive an acquaintance with the language and usages of the Chinese, with all that pertained to foreign trade, and also an accurate knowledge of the history of American intercourse with China from the first, he was always the intel- ligent adviser and assistant of the Minister for the time, and was abundantly capable of directing the affairs of the Legation in his absence. His services were of the greatest value to the government during his whole term of office, but especially so 176 Se~muel Wells Williams. [March, during the negotiation of the treaties at Tientsin, in 1858, and in the adjustment of subsequent difficulties. The securing of the clause regarding the toleration of Christianity in the American treaty with China was almost entirely due to his exertions. The writer well remembers with what satisfaction aud gratitude to God his report of those negotiations was made at a united meeting of missionaries iu Shanghai after his return to that city.* After the destruction of the foreign residences at Canton by fire in 1856, Dr. Williams removed his family to Macao, where they remained during the unsettled state of political * Dr. Martin, of Peking, who was interpreter to the Legation when the treaty was formed at Tientsin in 1858, gives the following account of the insertion of this article in the treaty. The Russians and the French had arranged articles in reference to the toleration of the Christian religion in the Greek and Latin forms; which they were to have inserted in their respective treaties. Dr. Williams was very desir- ous to have a similar article in the American treaty, in which Protes- tant Christians might also be recognized by the Chinese government, and claim equal protection of the laws. The United States Minister, Mr. William B. Reed, did not object to such an article, but was not inclined to take active measures in its favor. He had fixed on a certain day for the signing of the treaty, and if the article on toleration could be gained prior to that day he offered no objection; but he would not con- sent to delay the signing of the treaty in order to secure it. Dr. Williams proposed an article to the Chinese commissioners, but it was so modified by them as to destroy its virtue. Another form was sent to them with no better success. The day before the signing of the treaty, a form which had been proposed by Dr. Williams was returned to him, with such changes, made by the Chinese, that it could not be accepted. Failure seemed inevitable. The next morning Dr. Williams, as he rose from his bed, said to Dr. Martin that be had slept but little during the night on account of the danger of a failure of inserting any article on the toleration of Christianity in the treaty, which was to be signed that day. He had now a form to propose which he had thought over during the night, and which he believed would be satisfactory to both parties. The form was stated to Dr. Martin, who also approved it, and urged that both of them should go in person at once to secure its adoption, instead of sending by messengers as heretofore. This suggestion was approved, and they went accordingly to the headquarters of the Chinese officials, where they were kindly received, and in no very long time, to their great joy, had attained their object. The article was approved, and inserted in the treaty. The article on the toleration of Christianity in the British treaty, which was signed subsequently to the American, was due, it is believed, to this successful effort. 1885.] Samuel Well8 Williams. 177 affairs in China, until their return to the United States in 1858. The treaty, formed in 1858, having been ratified in 1859, Dr. Williams the next year followed his family to the United States to make his second visit to his native land, and was there during the war of England and France with China, in 1860, as also during the exciting scenes of the open- ing of the late war in the United States. Returning to China in 1862 he left his family in Macao, and came to Peking in July of the same year to make preparation for the residences of the American Legation. The following year he brought his family to Peking, and this city continued to be his resi- dence so long as he remained in China. Having waded through the necessary delays, vexations, and interruptions incident to the negotiating for and putting in order residences for the families of the Legation, the same to be repeated at a later day, he gave himself in the intervals of relief from official duties to that, which after all must be regarded as the great work of his life, the preparation of his Syllabic Dictionary of the Chinese language. For this work his earlier efforts in the Easy Lessons, the Chrestomathy, the Vocabulary, and the Tonic Dictionary proved helpful in the way of preparation. Of course he availed himself of these, and also, as far as possible, of the labors of all his predecessors in the work of lexicography. He well knew that a complete dictionary of the Chinese language, which should satisfy per- inanently the demands of students, must be the work of a company of men, many of them specialists, each laboring in his own department; but he judged that, with the blessing of God, he might embody with the results of his own labors those also of his predecessors in this department, and thus pro- duce a dictionary which would supply a manifest need for the current years, and be very usefnl to those engaged in Chinese studies. To this undertaking he now gave himself with unwearied diligence. His eyes and ears were ever open to catch some new form of expression of thought in the Chinese language, whether from books, or the speech of men. With his own pen he wrote out in Chinese every character, and every example to illustrate its meaning, throughout his dic- ionary. 178 Samuel Wells Williams. [March, What with the materials already accumulated, and his fresh acquisitions, his work progressed so rapidly that he was able to commence the printing in Shanghai in 1871, and to give his dictionary to the public in 1874. ft is in the form of a quarto volume of 13343 pages, containing articles on 12,527 characters of the Chinese language, besides his lengthened introduction on the structure of the language, its tones, dialects, and primi- tives, and systems of spelling its sounds. In the conclusion of his preface he writes: I have the satisfaction of feeling that the labor spent upon this work during the past eleven years in the intervals of official duties will now be available for stu- dents in acquiring the Chinese language. Its deficiencies will be hereafter supplied by others, who will build upon their predecessors, as I have done; for the field is too vast to be explored or exhausted, even by many laborers. The stimulus to past effort and the hope that it would not be in vain, both sprung from the desire to aid the labors of those who are imparting truth in any branch to the sons of Han, especially those religious and scientific truths whose acquisition and prac- tice can alone christianize and elevate them. At the end of forty years spent in this country in these pursuits I humbly thank the good Lord for all the progress I have been permitted to see in this direction, and implore his blessing upon this effort to aid their greater extension. It was characteristic of the author that he gave, in reduced prices of his dictionary as sold to missionaries, the sum of $1,200 as a thank-offering to God for having enabled him to bring this work to a conclusion; and it must have been a grati- fying testimony to the value of his work that a new edition of 750 copies was required in 1882, every copy of the first edition of 1000 copies having been already sold. Dr. Williams returned to Peking from Shanghai in 1873. His health had now become seriously impaired. The strain upon his powers in preparing and publishing his dictionary had proved too great. Doubtless his days were shortened thereby. While at Shanghai. in 1872 he was obliged for a time to suspend all work, and seek relief in a voyage to Japan. The respite fro.m care after the completion of his dictionary in 1874 did something in the way of restoring his health, and in 1885.1 Samuel W418 William~. 179 the year 1875 he made his third visit to Nmerica, which gave him an additional period of rest. It is worthy of remark that however much of care and labor IDr. Williams had in hand, he never seemed burdened by it, but always appeared sprightly and cheerful, ready for every good work, and not annoyed by frequent interruptions. His last return to Peking was in the year 1876, his family remaining in the United States. He spent some months in the city and at his usual summer resort at the western hills. He seemed more tenderly attached than ever to the places in which he had labored, to the people for whom he had given his life of toil, and to the friends who had been his co-workers in efforts for their good. It was difficult for him to break off so many tender associations and leave finally the land of his adoption. However at his period of life, and with his impaired health, he judged that his work in China was done. For years he had been urged to take a place among the faculty of Yale College, who thought that the language and literature of China should have some representative in this institution of learning, and earnestly desired that Dr. Williams should accept such a posi- tion. This he consented to do, after some deliberation, and accordingly in 1877 commenced a residence in New Haven, where he remained until his death. The revision and enlargement of his Aliddle Kingdom had been long in contemplation, and the materials for it accumu- lating. Indeed he had already begun the work before leaving China in 1876. This revision, with occasional articles for various reviews, attendance upon the meetings of societies, and public gatherings where matters relating to China were in dis- cussion, seem to have occupied his time during these later years of his life. Among other things he entered very warmly into the question of Chinese immigration, protesting against the injustice done to the Chinese in raising this wall of separa- tion to keep them out of the United States, and writing long articles in favor of unrestricted immigration. In the year 1881 he was chosen President of the American Bible Society; and he was always present at its monthly meetings when his health would allow it. He was also chosen President of the 180 Samuel We118 TFilliam8. [March, American Oriental Society, and held both these offices at the time of his death. His health at this time was far from being robust, and his eyesight was very imperfect. In 1882 he had a serions fall upon the ice. This was followed by an attack of paralysis, from which he gained only a partial recovery. Happily at this time he had completed his revision of the iJfiiddle King- dom, and made arrangements for its publication. In the latter part of his work, and in carrying it through the press he was greatly assisted by his son, Mr. Frederick Wells Williams. By the blessing of God most manifestly, he wrote to a friend about this time, do I see the probable completion of this work, and I praise the God of all grace. After its comple- tion he wrote again, I have made my last eflort, aud implore the blessing of God on this work which has for its object to fnrther Christs kingdom. That is all I want. Still later, about seven months before his death, he wrote, I am glad to say that the last proof sheet of the Middle Kingdom went last week to the publishers. If it has the blessing which the first edition had I shall be content. I had great difficulty in writing the preface. . . . I did not realize how weak my brain was. . . . I must decrease, others must increase; and God be praised that the work, in which he has promised that the kingdoms of this world shall be given to his Son, will never lack his ministers and servants. Of the work thus completed it is safe to say, that as it was his last, so it will probably be the most widely read and of the greatest permanent usefulness. It has beeii well received, both in the United States and in England. Among the many favorable notices of ~he book we find the following. Writ. ten by a thorough scholar forty-three years resident in China, it seems to ns nnlikely that for fulness of information, fairness of statement, and freshness of style, this work will be excelled as a comprehensive statement of the whole subject. One may expect, rather, to see the most attractive portions of this immense territory apportioned among the specialists. This is a just estimate of the value of the work. Dr. Williams did not long survive its completion. Still later in September, after the work was published, he wrote, 1885.1 Samuel Wells William.;. 181 On every side I see men and women active in the affairs of life, but I have no part in their activities. I feel that the brain is crippled, and continuous labor or thought impossible. I do not repine. My heart is resigned to that will which is my happiness, so far as I know, and he will provide. I have all that I want for this life, more would be a trouble, and per- haps would be a temptation. The outer world must be hence- forth to be seen by me, as if I were in a gallery, looking down on the arena. Happily the mercy seat is ever open, and there are family, missions, China especially, and many objects nearer by, to implore divine blessings upon. How we are bound to one another through and by that mercy seat, and up to the Head of the One Fold. This was written only five months before his death. During the interval his condition remained much the same. One who was present at h4s funeral writes, Dr. Williams died on Saturday, the 16th of February, in the evening. He had been failing fast since the first of the month, but his mind was clear until a few hours before his death. On the last day he fell into a comatose condition and died without pain. The evening of his life was very peacefnl and happy. He was held in high honor at New Haven, and had great influence there. He took great pleasure in the completion of the new edition of his Middle Kingdom, and in its favorable reception. His son read him flattering notices of it from the English press only four days before his death. His funeral took place in the Battell Chapel, all the faculty and the college attending. Dr. Barbonr the college pastor, President Porter, and Dr. Clark, Secretary of the American Board, spoke of his life and services with discrimination and feeling. He was buried in the family cemetery in Utica, New York. In reflecting upon such a life one is impressed with its com- pleteness. Many of those who have entered the race in China with the fairest prospects have been cut down in early man- hood; others in riper years. It was not thus with Dr. Wil- liams. He was spared to complete that which h~ had purposed. His life was well rounded out. his usefulness commenced early and continued late. This was owing on the one hand to his patient, industrious, well-directed efforts, and 182 Sa9muel Wells W~lkam8. [March, on the other to the protection and blessing of God amid the dangers incident to so long and eventful a course. Dr. Parker, his early friend and medical adviser at Canton, said of him: His health was such in the first part of his life in China that I feared we should lose him. Yet he survived and was able to perform a great amount of diligent labor until the end of his days. The life of Dr. Williams covered an eventful period in the history of foreign intercourse with China. Mention has already been made of the cessation of the monopoly of the East India Company in 1834, the war with England in 1841, 1842, the withdrawal of power from the Hong merchants, the opening of the five ports, also of the opening of Japan to western nations. Later followed the capture of the city of Canton in 1857, the new treaties of 1858, the war of England and France with China in 1860, and the snpplementary trea- ties; the opening of new ports of trade in different parts of China and her dependencies; the establishment of the Lega- tions in Peking, and the peaceful settlement of the question as to the audience with the Chinese Emperor. The new order of things thus inaugurated was followed by a vast expansion of trade and evangelistic effort. Dr. Williams in his own person formed a connecting link between the old and the new, between the trade confined and shackled at Canton and the now unrestricted commerce with all important parts of China; between Dr. Morrison, the first Protestant missionary to China, who in order to secure a permanent residence in the land became interpreter to the East India Company, and the present generation of missionaries scattered all over the empire. It must be evident to any one who knew Dr. Williams that he was a man of quick parts, active intellect, retentive memory, and patient industry. He took a sensible, comprehensive view of subjects brought before him, and adhered to it con- sistently. What he saw, he saw clearly, and at once. He did not dwell too long in elaborating his views or in modifying what he had written. Content with that degree of excellence which he was able easily and naturally to attain, he passed on to other subjects and fresh labors. 1885.1 Samuel JYells Williams. 183 Dr. Williams was known by all to be a man of humble, con- sistent Christian piety. He received the gospel in its sim- plicity. His mind seems never to have been exercised by skeptical doubts although he was familiar with the objections of scientific men, and had lived long among unbelievers. Religion was to him altogether true and a very practical con- cern. His Christian character adorned his domestic and social intercourse and gave inspiration and direction to his whole course in life. His bible lessons with his children and his sabbath forenoon exercises with his Chinese servants were faithfully maintained. Tn all society, and among all classes of men he won respect as a follower of Christ. A part of his religion consisted in giving of his substance to charitable purposes. One-tenth of his income was the rule Dr. Williams followed in such bestowals. It is believed that in one way or another he quite repaid to the Board which sent him to China all the expense they had been at on his account; and many other missionary societies, as well as a great variety of objects, shared his benefactions. If he had a large measure of prosperity he had also no small measure of adversity, and in both he bore himself with Chris- tian equanimity. His eldest three children, two sons, Oly- phant and Walworth, and a daughter were stricken down by death in the United States while he was absent from them. He bore their loss not only with resignation, but with the cheerfulness of Christian hope. His Christian principles and kindly feelings were conspic- uous in all his intercourse with the Chinese, both of a public and private nature, as also in his writings. This is very observable in his Middle Kingdom, one object of which he declares to be, To divest the Chinese people and civilization of that peculiar and indefinable impression of ridicule which has so generally been given them by foreign authors, and to show the better traits of their national character. In reading these volumes one can but feel that the Chinese are in the hands of a friend. The underlying principles of the writer are kindness, benevolence, justice. The faults of the people do not excite his hatred or derision, but rather move him to greater efforts to impart to them knowledge and truth. He 184 Samuel Wells Williams. [March, speaks plainly and boldly of the wrongs done them by Chris- tian nations, while he acknowledges also the necessity of decided measures at times for their own good. In the preface to this work, at the close, he writes: The stimnins, which in this labor of my earlier and later years has been ever present to my mind, is the hope that the cause of missions may be promoted. In the success of this cause lies the salvation of China as a people, both in its moral and polit- ical aspects. . . . . The promise of that Spirit will fulfill the prophecy of Isaiah, delivered before the era of Confucius, and Gods people will come from the land of Sinim and join in the anthem of praise with every tribe under the sun. These were the last words he ever wrote for the press, and they form a fitting close to the lite work of the writer; a close also to this imperfect tribute to his life and services. 1885.] Sanitar~y Training in the Public & hool8. 185 ARTICLE 111.SANiTARY TRAINING IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. THE present age is not one of tranquil confidence in the per- fection of existing institutions; and the criticism, sometimes harsh, but often helpful, which is so characteristic of our time, finds a fruitful theme in the subject of education. Our still crude and indefinite conception of its scope, and the disastrous overdoings and shortcomings of practical pedagogics is stimu- lating the laudable effort to determine the precise functions of education, and to employ them in such an orderly manner as to insure the maximum of benefit, and at the same time to guard against positive injury to the brains and bodies educated. In the prevailing scheme it is evident that too prominent a position is occupied by the ornamental branches or accomplishments, and relatively little importance is attached to practical training and the cultivation of original thought and forethought. For more rational and salutary. methods, we should look to those earnest students in many countries who, while individ- ually urging the advantages of special studies and phases of training, are in the aggregate steadily and surely moulding the future of public school and collegiate work. Among those whose broad and deep comprehension of the whole meaning of education has given color to all partial treatment of it, we should not fail to name Herbert Spencer and Alexander Bain. As to special topics of peculiar interest to us as Americans, our educators have spoken fervently and plainly. Pres. Gilman calls attention to the influence exerted by science, wealth, and religious freedom on college training. Pres. Andrew White summons the youth away from the strictly, mercantile appli- cation of their schooling into the fields of literary, scientific, artistic, and political thought. Rev. R. ileber Newton and other writers in the North A~nerican Review, and in Educa- tion, urge the introduction of ethical culture i