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New Serres. |] [Vou. IV, No: 1 

H. H. MORGAN, Epiror. 


MAKARIA, Act V.—S. Sterne, -. ‘ 


THE POET'S FABLE.—M. H. Benton, ‘ 

[ue RELASION oF 4 whew Smoot, To Tix scH001 sysTEM.— 
B. ¥. B. Dixon, , 




THE CLIFF.—L.J. Block, . A 


German Theater; The Society of Useful Knowledge; The Con- —~ 

tributor’s Club; The American Antiquarian; Spelling Reform 
Association; The St. Paul Convention; At, Harding’s Gallery; 
Week of German Opera; St. Louis Evening Post; Washington 
University ; Mr. Tracy’s Sale of Pictures; Dhe School of Design; 
Our Libraries ; St. Louis Art Society; Détorative Art. 





In isshing ** Tue Western’’ in its new form, as a bi-monthly, 
and. in its new dress, the publishers take the occasion to congratu- 
late the friends of this periodical, and those interested in the 
development of literature in the West, upon the high reputation 
for ability and literary merit *‘Tae Wesrern’’ has made under 
the able management of the editor, with the hearty cooperation of 
its staff of contributors. For the future neither the publishers or 
editor make promises, preferring to let ‘‘ Tae Western’’ speak 
for itself.. But it is proper to say that they have some very clear 
ideas, and positive opinions, as to what the conduct of this period- 
ical should be, and they will use their utmost endeavors to carry 
those ideas out. The publishers especially wish to disclaim any 
intention or inclination of copying slavishly the style of any single 
Eastern periodical. ‘‘Tae Western’’ purposes to have a charac- 
ter of its own. Exactly what that character will be, circumstances 
will determine. But the publishers wish, at the outset, to break 
the shackles of conventionality, and to declare their independence. 
‘*Tae Westrern’’ will exercise the privilege of ‘* talking right out 
in meeting,’’ if there is occasian for it. The editor will not, of 
course, feel bound to indorse the opinions of contributors, 

The publishers deem it proper to state, further, that their desire 

to demonstrate. the. truth or falsity of one pet theory has been 
mainly instrumental in inducing them to undertake the publication 


of ‘‘ THe Western ;’’ that theory is that in literature, as in other 
things, ‘there are as food fish in the sea as have been caught out 
of it;’’ that writers and authors will arise in the West [Den of 
Thieves!] as able as any the East now boasts. The publishers’ 
experience in legal literature has demonstrated the truth of this 
theory, conclusively, in that direction. Is it true as regards gen- 
eral literature? Time will show. 

It is to be understood that ‘‘Tae Western "’ will look at the. 
ability of .its articles, not at the reputation of their writers; and, 
further, that vigor of thought and expression and literary polish 
are desired; but, when the choice lies between vigor and literary 
polish, the former will be always preferred. In dealing with the 
vital problems of the times ‘‘’THe WesTEerRN’’ prefers horny-handed 
power to kid-glove daintiness. 

Pablished bi-monthly, at the subseription price of $3.00 per 
annum. Single number, 50 cents. Remittances should be made 
by P. 0. order, draft, or registered letter to 

G.L JONES & Co., Publishers, St. Louis. 


New SERIES. | JANUARY, 1878. [ Vox. IV, No. 1. 


The present time seems to specially favor the attempt to 
make clear to ourselves the grounds of our patriotism ; our 
opportunities have never been more inviting, and our needs 
never greater. An examination of this kind seems to 
promise conviction where now we have but sentiment; a 
clearer perception of our personal privileges and responsi- 
bilities ; and that recognition of defects which must always 
be the first step in any true progress. It is assumed that 
we do not demand panegyric, but will be content with 
praise or blame, as our convictions shall decree. 

Is our country, then, entitled to an honest patriotism ? 
and, if so, upon what grounds? Are her claims inferior to 
those of more favored lands? 

The recent Exposition has led to the supply of data for : 
reasonable judgment of the past ; the present and immedi- 
ate future are occupied with complicated problems which 
cause anxiety to all thoughtful persons, while they also 
incline us to consider the extent and grounds of our civil 
obligations. Apart, then, from that love of country natural 
to every one, what grounds are there for that sense of 
responsibility which should accompany all privileges’? 
What do we owe to our country’s institutions, in contradis- 
tinction to the good which we might as certainly have 
obtained if born in any other land, and if living under any 

Vol. 4, No. 1—1. 

2 The Western. 

other government? What has been accomplished by our 
predecessors to which we can point with just pride, and 
which we should be anxious to guard and extend? In an 
examination of the kind proposed, two courses are open to us : 
We may begin by determining the abstract value of various 
governments, or of various forms of government, and then 
enforce our conclusions by an appeal to such individual facts 
as promise support; or, on the other hand, we may com- 
mence by an estimate of the present welfare of the people, 
and from this justify or condemn the conditions to which 
they owe their situation. As we are seeking ‘‘ truths, and 
not arguments,’’ the latter method recommends itself as 
more certainly within our reach, and less apt to be barren 
in its results. 

Let me, therefore, pass in review the various elements 
which constitute real prosperity, and, by reference to the 
present condition of the American people, attempt to show 
the reality of our obligation for a love of country, and for 
the zealous defense of this country and its interests. 

The first and lowest element of national prosperity is 
opulence of natural resources. This opulence is our happy 
possession rather than the reasonable occasion for political 
gratitude or for self-approbation. The value and extent of 
these resources is presumably within the knowledge of all, 
and have been sufficiently set forth by our popular speakers 
and writers. 

The element of prosperity next in importance to acci- 
dental possession is the use we have made of our opportuni- 
ties; and it will be questioned by no one that we have 
fulfilled the obligation imposed by an inheritance—the 
retention and increase of our patrimony. Our natural 
advantages have not produced sloth and indolence, but have 
led to a productive activity which to many seems almost 
unhealthy. The means for physical comfort —nay, even for 
personal luxury—are as common in the United States as 
are squalor and poverty in the Orient ; and, while this good 

Grounds for American Patriotism. 3 

fortune is in part due to the abundance of our. natural 
resources, it is indubitable that we owe more to the pro- 
ductive activity of our people. 

This productive activity has long been remarked by the 
Old World, and has recently received fresh recognition in 
the large export demand which has followed the recent 
exhibition at Philadelphia. Concessions from a rival are 
always good ground for belief, and, if any doubt that we 
have reason to be proud of the activity of our people in so 
fur as regards the machinery of material prosperity, they 
have but to read the reports made by the commissioners 
from the several countries of Europe. If complaint be 
made of that extravagance which is naturally the com- 
panion of resources apparently inexhaustible, and of a 
sense of power seemingly limitless, it will be but just to 
remember that this extravagance has its defense, and that 
it is only by listening to its justification that we can 
determine the truth or falsity of the complaint. Is the 
excess complained of apparent or real? If real, is it such 
as to impair the validity of the claim that we have honestly 
increased the value of our patrimony? Surely sometimes 
our extravagance is only apparent; frequently, when the 
extravagance is real, it finds its justification in the sound 
principle that ability can create wealth, so that the possessor 
of any useful talent may, by the increase of his resources, 
achieve financial results better than by the diminution of his 
desires. But, even in the cases in which the charge of 
extravagance is a just one, we are to remember that extrava- 
gance is infinitely preferable to sordid parsimony, and that 
a man’s spiritual nature may gain by a course which will 
ultimately inconvenience his material comfort. The torsos 
of humanity who represent the concentration of all power 
upon the single problem of amassing wealth which they are 
fitted neither to use nor to enjoy —these are not the best 
models for the statuary of life; and it is true universally, 

4 The Western. 

and not alone in matters of religion, that it will not profit 
a man to gain the whole world if he thereby lose his own 

But a fair estimate of our industry may be prevented by 
a belief the direct opposite of our last consideration. It 
may be urged that we are rendered untrue to the responsi- 
bilities of our inheritance by an excessive regard for our 
material prosperity. The element of spiritual life can 
more fitly be discussed later, but it is pertinent to here con- 
sider a fallacy often couched under this charge against the 
American people. We live in a country where labor is 
honorable for all, and not in one where the many labor and 
the few enjoy. It is undoubtedly true that the mass, 
because it is a mass, most readily recognizes prosperity 
when its rewards are material; but it is also true that this 
phenomenon is neither peculiar to our country, nor, indeed, 
eminently true of its people. Of course any fair com- 
parison must be made between similar grades of society, 
and I assume that none who read this would be guilty of 
the gross fallacy of instituting a comparison between the 
ancient landed gentry of monarchical countries and those 
who are the founders of their own family fortunes. All 
sources of information in regard to other countries make 
the results of a comparison by no means unfavorable to 
ourselves. Their literatures—dramatic, historical, scien- 
tific, or social; the accounts of travelers; the results of 
personal inspection; these all develop the not surprising 
fact that the mass everywhere appreciates, and even over- 
estimates, material prosperity ; while yet, in any fair com- 
parison, Americans are most frequently charged with greater 
interest in achieving success than in its enjoyment after it 
has been attained. There is, however, one point of view 
from which this universal interest in things material ceases 
to be either a reproach or a subject for commiseration. 
From the nature of things, and not from the perversity of 


Grounds for American Patriotism. 5 

humanity, the efforts first in order of time, as well as first 
in the order of logical suggestion, are for our material well- 
being ; the pioneer must precede the merchant ; the artisan, 
the artist ; the man of action, the student; for the neces- 
sities of our physical life precede, and are the foundation 
of, any desire for spiritual life. Material prosperity invites, 
and alone renders possible, the finer tastes and higher 
aspirations of humanity; and it is only when the race feels 
the limitations of a partial truth that it will attempt to 
transcend the narrowness of material success and seek the 
rewards of its efforts in a higher, but no” more necessary, 

We must not repine at any rational stage of development, 
because, in the natural order of growth, it must follow, and 
not precede, stages which we prefer ; the flower may attract 
us more than the bud, but the existence of the bud is the 
essential condition of the flower. A moment’s thought of 

-the periods in human history during which men of culture 

and refinement have attempted to ignore the laws of the 
natural world, will satisfy all that the only healthful and 
permanent growth is that which springs out of the order of 
the universe. 

We have now considered the source of material pros- 
perity, and may pass to the consideration of higher de- 
mands. The welfare of the material nature is, in a view of 
the life of humanity, of consequence only as the necessary 
antecedent and condition of spiritual prosperity. What 
response have we, as a people, to make when questioned as 
to ‘*the use of our talents?’’ The answer to this question 
must be sought from neither extreme of society. We can- 
not expect a satisfactory answer from the wealthiest, for 
the infirmities of our common nature too often betray 
these into regarding their privileges as abstracted from any 
complementary responsibilities ; not from those intellectu- 
ally most acute, for, from the operation of the same cause, 
these not infrequently display the egotism of genius as well 

6 The Western. 
as its marvelous power; not even from those morally or 

physically eminent, for they, too, frequently forget that 

“Tt is excellent 
To have a giant’s strength, but it is tyrannous 
To use it like a giant.” 

Nor must we expect a rational answer from the poorest, 
partly because these are naturally liable to be confused by 
the empty declarations about honest worth, joined with the 
care which many take never to recognize it until it can 
force recognition ; partly because their physical wants are 
pressing, and they lack the opportunity, even if they 
possess the desire, to seek that ideal life of which their 
social superiors are frequently but poor examplars. But, if 
we pass by the two classes which, as classes, are occupied 
with self-support, or with self-gratification and self-aggran- 
dizement, is it not true, within the experience of each one 

of us, that there is a relatively large and increasing regard . 

for the needs of our spiritual nature? Is it not manifestly 
true that, as our material wants are satisfied —frequently 
even at the expense of these wants—we, as a people, cul- 
tivate art, literature, science, and philosophy, not with 
regard to them as mere instruments of selfish power, but 
mainly as a means of intellectual culture? Granting the 
intellectual defects of those reached by the diffusion of 
knowledge while yet lacking the intellectual training which 
alone makes this knowledge really valuable, are we not 
assured in every way of a very real interest in intellectual 
activity, even when, from the nature of things, this interest 
has as a companion that crudeness which must ever dis- 
tinguish unskillful efforts? To relate this consideration to 
our special claims for a national patriotism, we must inquire 
whether our average interest in the results of mental effort 
is less than that in other countries, the comparison being 
made between similar grades in the communities. 

The answer may be reached in several ways, but in each 

init bain yates cee acct 

a oe 

Grounds for American Patriotism. 7 

case it will be the same. All around us are evidences of 
our interest in every kind of intellectual effort, whether 
exerted in our own country or abroad. Without attempt- 
ing to assert for ourselves any intellectual ‘‘ right of emi- 
nent domain,’’ it would require a catalogue to detail the 
names of individuals and of societies who expend labor, as 
well as money, in providing a readier access to the intel- 
lectual resources of the world ; and this is true, not merely 
on the part of those who have entire command of their 
time, but also of many whose efforts must be added to 
those called forth by the exacting wants of a laborious daily 
life. Sufficient illustration of the truth of this clause may 
be found in the encouragement given by American audiences 
to such specialists as Tyndall and Proctor; in the rapid 
growth of our libraries — individual, private, and public ; 
in the importance of our country as a book-market ; and in 
the average intelligence and readiness of our people. 

Any fair consideration of our theme, however, must regard 
the character of our intellectual interests, as well as their 
liveliness and extent. Do we, then (whether the test be an 
absolute one or only a comparison with other peoples ), use 
our intellectual nature merely as the servant of physical 
satisfaction or well-being, or do we employ it to exalt and 
ennoble these? I would assert that, from this point of 
view, we have special cause to be proud of our country. 
As a people, we do not live to eat ; we do not read in order 
that we may the more readily recover our zest for animal 
pleasures ; we do not regard the fine arts as simply the 
handmaids of sensuous enjoyment ; in fine, we, as a people, 
absolutely refuse to pursue any interest in the abstract, and 
insist that there shall be a manifest razson d’étre in every- 
thing which claims our sympathy or our serious attention. 

As was remarked when considering the use which we 
make of our material patrimony, the large portion of those 
who are insensible to delicacies, as such, is one reason for 
our vigorous healthfulness ; happily our ready recognition 

8 The Western. 

of the validity of any form of prosperity promises us a long 
continuance of a condition which, if we read aright the les- 
sons of history, is certainly to be desired. We, as a peo- 
ple, are utilitarian; but our definition of utilitarianism is 
too broad to justify the sneers of those whose lives manifest 
no great gain achieved by them in preferring the old Greek 
view reproduced by Lessing in saying that he preferred the 
search after truth to truth itself.. Utility is not confined to 
things of sense, but any adequate definition will expand 
until it includes all of our worlds, and a regard to a rational 
utility will protect us against those inane enthusiasms which 
render not only possible, but admirable, such an intellect- 
ual development as the De Medici. That individuals err 
through want of breadth of view is no more objectionable 
than we find this error to be in the ordinary affairs of life ; 
a difference of skill can by no means impair the value of 
the results attained by the ablest. One form of American 
utilitarianism is deserving of special mention: As a people, 
we insist that whatever is valuable to mankind is valuable 
because it can be made an active part in the life which man- 
kind has to live; that, if charity be amiable and desirable, 
we will organize our efforts and thus secure its manifestations 
under the most favorable conditions ; that, if general intelli- 
gence be desirable, we will systematically seek to secure its 
advantages to all mankind ; that, if art not only embellishes 
social life, but also tends to ameliorate the condition of 
human beings, we will, as we have opportunity, encourage 
its cultivation, and provide means for the dissemination of 
its good gifts; in short, that, once convinced of the possi- 
bility and desirability of any form of effort that tends to 
elevate and better the condition of ourselves and of those 
around us, we will use our endeavors to attain and to share 
its advantages. 

Another element of true prosperity, and one of greater 
importance than any which we have yet considered, is 


Grounds for American Patriotism. 9 

morals in our unhappy politics; but, after admitting that 
the moralist may find fault, we shall still be confronted with 
the questions: Are our morals bad relatively to the stand- 
ards in use among other peoples, or among the peoples of 
times past? Or, are they bad as compared with that infinite 
and absolute standard according to which 

‘None of us 
Should see salvation ?”’ 

Personally, I have no sympathy with what is too often 
but « mere sentimentality ; neither the records of history 
nor the experiences of my individual life teach me to believe 
that the world is to be despaired of because cynics have 
failed to find the order of nature set aside in obedience to 
the demands of their personal cosmos. Novels of social 
life are always idealized portraits of the actual living of the 
period ; we are all familiar with the masterpieces of the great 
novelists of the different countries ; a moment’s reflection 
may satisfy us that we are not retrograding. This conclu- 
sion will be enforced by reflecting upon the social life of 
other countries, as brought to our notice by acquaintance 
with the many nationalities represented in our community ; 
by the frequent accounts accessible through the records of 
travelers ; and by the tone of representative publications. 
These may place us at a disadvantage so far as regards 
refinement, but will reassure us as to our relative purity. 
In all attempts, however, to determine the extent to which 
we my be proud of the morality of the American people, 
we must avoid the common error of thinking, under the 
general term morality, some specific form which distinguishes 
a single manifestation of moral effort, as, for example, polit- 
ical morality, social morality, or individual morality. It is 
ever to be remembered that all progress of the race is 
achieved only through the progress of the individuals who 
compose the race. The individual can realize and illustrate 
in his private life virtues which cannot yet be expected in 

10 The Western. 

morality. It is common to deprecate the low state of 
his institutions. These represent often the resultant of dif- 
ferent, and sometimes of conflicting, efforts; indeed, as 
human institutions tend to approach the plane of the indi- 
vidual, he naturally strides on in advance. Hence, while the 
individual is constantly scaling new heights, and as con- 
stantly extending the range of his vision, human institu- 
tions will always appear unduly low, if only because of the 
relative motion. 

Reference to a few of the many institutions of human 
society will sufficiently make manifest the reality of our 
progress. War is morally the lowest of organized efforts, 
although even in war there is the recognition of right and 
wrong—of a boundary between the two, even if its where- 
abouts be not evident—that is, the recognition of a moral 
quality. Do our wars disclose a baser standard, or an 
increasing immorality, when brought into comparison with 
the conflicts in other lands? Surely the abundant experi- 
ence gathered even during our own short lives will satisfy 
us that such is not the case, and assure us that all attempts 
of the partisan and of the demagogue to embitter the feel- 
ings of the masses have most signally failed. 

Mercantile pursuits, regarded as an institution, are far 
less germinal than war, yet many eminent merchants are 
guilty of frequent acts which contradict their professed 
repugnance to a low moral tone. A few pages from the 
records of our lawyers would satisfy all that an intellectual 
acceptance of the worth of morality is quite compatible 
with a practical denial of any such value. Yet, while mer- 
vantile honor is not so sensitive as that of many of the 

individuals whose energies are occupied in this field of 

effort, is any one prepared to show, either by his own 
experience or by the records of the past, that the American 
standard is lower, or even as low, as that furnished by the 
same grade of the community in foreign countries? Are 


Grounds for American Patriotism. 11 

we not, in every community throughout the United States, 
proud to honor business men whose integrity is as unsullied 
as the often-cited ermine of the judge? 

In politics are we a specially immoral people? Granted that 
it is fashionable to speak of politicians as though the necessi- 
ties of public life stripped them of all the nobler attributes 
of man, and condemned them to the cultivation of all that is 
selfish, and base, and mean, and low—are we not confound- 
ing the professional politician with the man necessarily and 
worthily interested in politics; and do we not thus reach 
conclusions no more valid than if we selected Shylock as 
the typical banker? Acquainted, as we all must be, with 
gentlemen whom we honor and respect, and who yet are 
never without an active interest in political life, we cannot 
but be conscious that we are too often guilty of thinking, 
under the term politics, only its most ignoble aspect—an 
aspect not at all peculiar, but which it has in common with 
all professions and with all callings. To judge fairly of 
political morality we must remember that, from ifs nature, 
politics is narrower than the individual in its definition of 
morality ; we must, therefore, test it by the political stand- 
ard, and not by the individual. And we must not use an 
abstract and constantly varying standard, but must employ 
the standard suggested by our stage in the history of devel- 
opment. Shall we feel degraded by the comparison, if we 
trace the history of the various sovereigns and prime min- 
isters who stand forth on the pages of history to represent 
the political achievement of the past? Shall we feel morally 
humble if we dwell upon the record of a Macchiavelli or a 
Richelieu? Ithink not. And, while a single page from our 
political history may fill us with dismay, we shall take new 
courage when we go for comparison even to the records of 
parliamentary investigation, and shall feel reassured when 
we regard the record of our hundred years in connection 
with an equally long period in the life of any people. 
While the ordinary man, because he is the ordinary man, 

12 The Western. 

is beset by, and yields to, the temptations by which he is 
surrounded, we shall have cause to see that even the pursuit 
of politics is not inconsistent with the noble lives whose 
remembrance American history cherishes. 

Socially, American morality is notably above the average, 
and the standard is likely to grow more and more severe, 
and the same assertion is evidently true in regard to the 
morality of individuals. It is unfair to contrast an average 
American with the elect of countries older and more 
favorably circumstanced for the exercise of prudential 
morality ; and yet every community furnishes men and 
women who, in moral worth and dignity, are the peers of 
any in ancient or modern times. Whoever has not among 
his friends high-minded and incorruptible men and women 
has to blame his own tastes, and not the unattainableness of 
such a possession ; whoever does not know men and women 
who, without the incentives offered to the kings and queens, 
the heroes and heroines, of the old world, have as fully 
proved their genuineness —he, indeed, has been but a dull 
student and observer. 

The last element of true national prosperity is character, 
and it may safely be asserted that the formation of noble 
character is the dream of American idealists. While, from 
the endless variety of our conditions, opportunities, and 
abilities, we as individuals may vary in our estimate of the 
relative importance of life’s several factors, we as a nation 
have a higher standard of character than any people which 
has appeared in history, and court a comparison even with 
the countries where it is supposed that humanity at large 
has acquired strength to withstand all temptations, and 
where fraud, and falsehood, and incompetency in office, if 
not unknown, are supposed to be exceedingly rare, and to be 
viewed with holy horror by all but the criminal classes. 

The marked development in self-hood may justly be 
regarded as a reason for self-congratulation. Clearly the 
condition of affairs most favorable to all human interests is 


Grounds for American Patriotism. 13 

that under which the individual enjoys the greatest freedom 
and is stimulated to the greatest activity. Of course this 
freedom must be a rational freedom, and not a mere caprice, 
but no one can fairly deny such a freedom to our people. 
The apparent license of individuals is more harmless than 
we suppose ; indeed, it may even have a beneficent function. 
As our station of observation becomes higher, we rise above 
the mists which obscure our sight and see objects in their 
true outlines and in their relations to the grand totality 
which makes the universe. If we confine our attention to 
individuals, we may well complain of venality, of ignorance, 
and of immorality ; we may easily force ourselves into the 
attitude of the cynic. So, too, if we close our eyes to the 
conditions under which development is to-day taking place, 
we may find cause for discouragement wholly unjustified by 
the facts in the case. If, however, we are attempting to 
form a fair and reliable judgment, we must cease to regard 
phenomena discreetly, and must examine together the cause 
and the effect, carefully distinguishing between apparent 
and efficient causes. If we regard the least deserving por- 
tion of the community, we shall undoubtedly find venality ; 
but it is pertinent to inquire whether venality is a peculiarly 
American vice, whether it is a vice as prevalent in Americ: 
as elsewhere, and whether its manifestation in America is 
the natural accessory of our stage and mode of develop- 
ment, or whether it is the normal outgrowth of American 
institutions. We are not charged, even by foreigners, with 
individual ignorance or with individual immorality ; we, as 
a people, are credited, even by not unprejudiced judges, with 
relative superiority in these respects. The same conces- 
sion is not generally made to our public morality, but we 
are to remember that the support of the charges is not 
sought through a comparison of our whole public life with 
that of any other people, but rather by reference to the 
actions of individuals, by fixing the attention upon the 
unscrupulousness which has ever distinguished party man- 

14 The Western. 

agement, not alone in America, but notably in the history 
of all countries, beginning with Greece and Rome, and pur- 
suing an undeviating course through Italy, Spain, France, 
Germany, England, and Russia. Furthermore, those who 
find fault with America prefer to dwell upon that period 
which followed the inception of a great civil war; and, by 
placing this in contrast, not with similar periods in the his- 
tory of other countries, but in comparison with times of the 
highest regard for law and order, they may reach conclu- 
sions not otherwise attainable. 

The people in America represent all stages of ignorance, 
whether in social matters, literature, science, politics, or 
morals ; but so also do they in all other countries. The 
pessimist, if he be honest, must therefore show, first, that our 
short-comings are greater, other conditions remaining the 
sume ; and, second, that the tendency of our institutions is 
to aggravate what we all recognize as an evil. As has been 
said, any appeal to facts will fail to show our comparative 
turpitude ; and it is manifestly unfair to offer, in place of 
facts, either general assertion or an experience entirely indi- 
vidual. That, under our institutions, everybody and every 
opinion has opportunity for free expression, we not only 
admit, but claim as a cardinal excellence ; the growing lib- 
erality observable in other countries is but a poor comment 
upon their expressed belief in the error of our doctrines. 
That amidst universal freedom there should be crudity and 
excess is not to be wondered at, and it is even doubtful 
whether it is to be deprecated. We laugh at the fond 
mother who refused to let her boy go into the water until 
he had learned to swim, but the boasted strength of human 
reason does not seem to be sufficient to protect us from a 
precisely similar error in matters of intellect and morals. It 
is to be expected that first attempts will be awkward ; that 
our embryonic statesmen, legislators, mental and moral 
philosophers, critics, and men of action will be marred by 
ignorance. But we, as a people, claim that, if the human 

a tol yeti Slot OM ab 

1 er 

ot Mle dart Br ane ei 2 lt a esis 

Grounds for American Patriotism. 15 

animal is ever to be converted into a human being, he must 
be allowed and urged to begin where he may, and in the 
light of our national experience we are prepared to assert 
that in our times, as in those of ancient Greece, the begin- more than half of the whole work. We are content 
in the light of this same experience to assert that the indi- 
vidual will learn by trial, and only by trial, the futility of 
all misdirected efforts, and that, as a consequence, his train- 
ing will be sound, even if incomplete ; that the errors lived 
through by one generation will lessen for the next the num- 
ber of possible errors, and that, therefore, in the life of a 
people the progress is continuous, even if single individuals 
seem to retrograde, or even if the advance be made in the 
cycloid. The greatest difficulty in the way of a fair exam- 
ination of the grounds for this belief, and of our acceptance 
of the necessary conclusions, is that human infirmity which 
renders us distrustful of the truth which we most cherish — 
the truth that there is an overruling Providence — an 
infirmity which leads us to bound the possibilities of the 
race by its own achievements. It does not become a human 
being to complain of human nature, but a realizing sense of 


what Lord Bacon was pleased to term our * idols ’’ will pro- 
tect us alike against undue depression and undue exaltation. 
The burden of all history warns us against that pride of 
intellect which is apt to ‘* help out Providence,’’ and 
enforces our attention to the fact that all persecutions have 
resulted from human distrust at once of the ability and of 
the wisdom of the Divine Ruler of the universe. The 
eccentricities of human nature have never yet wrought the 
evil which has constantly been predicted, and we should 
have learned that ‘‘ there are things in heaven and on earth 
not dreamed of in our philosophy ;’’ that objects are to be 
viewed in their relations, and not in their separateness, if 
we would reach just conclusions, for Providence ‘* has many 
yays of working, while yet the result is one.’’ 
Admitting, then, the charge of venality against many men 

16 The Western. 

in public life, let us not forget that the charge is true only 
for a small part of our history ; that it is not even now true 
of many whose lives have been passed in public administra- 
tion; that the general abhorrence so freely expressed 
indicates our incorruption as a people; and, finally, that, 
from the essential character of a professional politician, he 
must of necessity pay any price that the community is 
pleased to consider the equivalent for offices of trust and 

Two events in our political history seem to me to bring 
out in striking colors the justice of our claim for a patriot- 
ism based upon our possession of freedom under the law, 
and not as against the law. 

Recent political events display upon the part of the 
people the magnificent spectacle of the subordination of 
personal desire to declared law—the greatest triumph of 
which individual nature is capable —the doing of the right 
because it is right, although the right is in direct conflict 
with our interests. The fact that many, whether correctly 
or erroneously, regarded the legal claim right-only in form 
and wrong in substance, enhances the value of the spectacle 
as an exhibition of our respect for law and constituted 
authority, and fully refutes any charges of national lawless- 
ness; charges which spring from the consideration of 
individual short-comings ; few with reference to the seeth- 
ing mass of humanity which represents our people and 
which is free to flow into any channel. A graver occa- 
sion and a grander spectacle was furnished at the time 
of the assassination of President Lincoln; a man whose 
memory is now respected by many who were at political 
enmity with him during his life; a man who will go down 
to ‘history as a representative American, exhibiting the de- 
fects inseparable from an education acquired during the 
distractions of an active life, but also exhibiting those 
qualities of character which are at once the highest attain- 
ments of human effort, and which are claimed by us as the 

bse: alg AEM Te 

a ete 

ee oe ee ee 

sow he 6 et 

ie dae abis os 

en ee eee 

Grounds for American Patriotism, 17 

natural outgrowth of institutions such as ours. It was that 
spectacle which gave me my first thrill as a patriot, and 
which changed me from the too common condition of one 
who laughingly accepts any reflections upon our institu- 
tions into a seeker after the truth of charges so freely 
made and so readily entertained. It was to that spectacle 
that I owe the translation of a lazy feeling of loyalty into 
a conviction which is intensified by every new examination. 
The spectacle of millions of people while under the influ- 
ence of intense excitement caused by a crime at once 
unknown and unpardonable; of a people stunned to the 
quick, and with every opportunity and excuse for ebullitions 
of passion; the spectacle of such a people restraining 
themselves, and deputing to the law the execution of the 
law’s behests ; such a spectacle was unparalleled in human 
history, and completely set at rest any apprehensions as to 
the final success of the great problem of human freedom, 
and of the possibility of human self-government. 

Such, then, is the survey of the various grounds for a 
rational patriotism. There remains only a brief consid- 
eration of the responsibilities which such a patriotism 
imposes upon us. We must recognize the fact that while 
our spiritual growth is good relatively to that of other 
peoples, that it is low when viewed absolutely; it is our 
part to seek through individual development to elevate the 
standard. To successfully do this we must cease to con- 
found a man with his vocation ; to identify the lawyer with 
the man of intellect; the minister with the possessor of 
such gifts divine that we may reasonably starve him in all 
things human ; the man in politics with the mere politician. 
We must reaffirm what Whipple claims as the distinguishing 
marks of the Elizabethan era: ‘‘ That men are not only to 
‘¢ that real thinking implies 
the action of the whole nature, and not of a simple, isolated 
faculty ;’’ ‘*that a belief in human nature, and _ tacit 
assumption of its right to expression, will stimulate human 


reason, but to have reason ;’ 

Vol. 4, No. 1—2. 

18 The Western. 

energies.’” If,as we are wont to claim, we are really in 
earnest when we deprecate the state of our spiritual life, 
we shall accomplish more by rational efforts than by any 
jeremiads, no matter how affecting the sentiment, or how 
attractive the garb. If we are conscious of the truth that 
all development is individual ; that the recognition of defects 
brings with it the duty to remedy the evil in our own lives, 
and then to seek its correction in the lives of others; if we 
remember that we are what we are to-day, not altogether 
in virtue of our own efforts, but mainly because of the 
generous sacrifices of many generations of noble lives 
which have in different callings been devoted to the attain- 
ment of higher standards, and to the provision of oppor- 
tunities for those less favorably circumstanced ; if we bear 
in mind the fact that we owe our opportunities for free 
individual development to the nature of the institutions 
which our ancestors founded ; if we do not forget that these 
noble men and women were of no one class, no one nation- 
ality, no one creed, no one vocation, we shall surely so 
manage our great trust that our country will continue to be 
the abode of manly men and of womanly women, and all 
our institutions will more and more reflect the spirit of the 
individuals whose combined efforts gave them an existence. 

Horace H. Morgan. 

0 en htt a lant da ad 





Dramatis Persone. 

DemopHoon—King of Athens, son of Theseus. 
JoLtaus—Nephew of Hercules, and leader of the Heraclides. 
Aprastus—Son of Jolaus’ friend, and under his protection. 
ALKMENE— Mother of Hercules. 

Maxkaria—Daughter of Hercules. 

Tur Heraciipes—His Sons. 

Kropgeus—Herald to King Eurystheus. 

MiLos—An Old Athenian. 

Tue Prizstxss, at Delphi. 

Messengers, Women, Citizens of Athens, etc. 


Scene.—The Island. Early morning. Enter MaKkaria. During this scene 
the sun gradually rises. 

Mak. He isnothere! Perchance not yet returned; 
Perchance asleep inside. ’Tis early yet— 
The sun not even up behind the hills. 
I will not call him; it is better thus, 
O thousand times—I should not see him more; 
And it were well to do it swiftly now, 
E’er he awake! (Goes to the door of the hut, listens, and returns.) He 
breathes deep and softly, 
Like one wrapped in sound slumber. Can he sleep 
Thus quietly, finding that I had gone— 
Parted from me? Nay, but I’m full unjust! 
Past doubt was he sore weary with his journey. 
Forgive me, darling! May all gentle gods 
Guard and protect thy slumber! 
On the spot 
Where my heart tasted of its sweetest joys— 
Such was the cruel, dread command to me— 
There was I to perform it! I will wait 
To see the sun once more; ’twill not be long— 

The Western. 

His glowing messengers e’en now advance 

In ever deepening glory! Oh, and where, 

Of all the whole wide world, should I return 

But only here? Not to where I with grandam— 

Oh, she cursed me, who so loved me once— 

Dwelled when I was a little, innocent child, 

Playing with flowers, or on the golden sands ; 

With the pink sea-shells and pearly pebbles : 

The smiling sea cast up day after day. ‘ 

A child in the glad sunshine, little dreaming i 

Of its strange, fearful fate—the starless night : 

Wherein my young life now goes out! Nor yet ; 

To where, with my dear brothers gathered round me, 

I first grew into maidenhood, all hopes, 

Of joyful youth clustering about my path. 

Nor yet unto the market-place, where first 

These eyes were set on him who has revealed 

The meaning of life and death to me; 

For my distracted soul there struggled ’mid 

Dark doubts and fears. But here could I have come, 

O, here, where heedless and resistlessly ‘ 

I wholly gave myself to love and him! 

Once more must I look on him! Jealous gods, 

Surely you suffer this! (Enters hut, but returns in a few moments.) cd 
Some one lies there, 

Wrapped in a cloak, his face turned to the wall, 

So that I could not see or form or features, 

And know not if it be my sweet Adrastus, 

Or the old stranger I gave shelter here, 

And did remember not till now. I dared 

Not lift the covering, lest I wakened him; 

Lest it were he; lest gazing on his face, . 

Seeing his smiling lips, I must have kissed them, 

And in that kiss poured out all strength for dying! 

For O, the touch of his sweet lips, his breath, 

Had won me back to life—had plucked me from 

The very shores of awful Styx itself. 

I could not then have done it; so I left him! 

But O, what a most fearful wrench it was, 

The effort thus to tear myself away! 

My smarting soul was rent in twain and half, 

My bleeding self left after me in there! 

Howe’er I may have erred, whatever sinned, 

By heaven, it is atoned for now in this 

Unutterable agony! O gods, 

Terrible, merciless, relentless gods! 

Powers whose far-smiting arm, all-seeing eye, 


None may escape; and, though we hid ourselves 
In earth or sea, ye may be well content, 
Ye are avenged in truth. 
Sleep on, my blessed, 
Long as thou mayst! till the far morn—the night; 
For O, how fearful shall be thy awakening! 
How shall this dagger crash through thy sweet peace! (Takes the dag- 
ger and a small tablet from her bosom.) 
But this shall tell thee wherefore all is done. (Chants in a low voice.) 
Sleep on, darling, sleep on, love, 
While the skies shine blue above! 
May the sunbeams on the floor, ° 
The soft wavelets on the shore, 
The glad bird’s song in the tree, 
The white sails gleam on the sea, 
Fill with joyous sounds and gleams 
All the image of thy dreams. 
With this, grandam sang me full oft to rest; 
So may it soothe thy slumbering heart, my love! 
And now my hour is come! Beyond the hills 
Gold beams shoot forth like points upon a crown. 
In one brief moment will the sun be here 
To serve me for my funeral torch. ’Tis over, 
This heart’s last pang, at length. Farewell, all ye 
In Athens! Ye whom I so loved and wronged! 
Perchance, when you will learn of this, you, too, 
Shall pardon me. I’ll lay me here, where he 
May see me not at once when he awukes. (Half retires behind some 
O heavens! Did I not say I would be here, 
On this same ledge of rock, waiting for him. 
Adrastus, O my love, my life, my darling, 
Thou, of all joys the name, and all delights ; 
The last thrill of this soul is thine alone. 
Gods, now receive what long has been your due. (Stabs herself. 
Oh! To the Hades far below, 
Lethe, where thy dark— (Dies, sinking behind the rocks. The gun 
Fully rises now.) ° 
(After a time, enter ADRASTUS, hastening up the rocky pathway.) 
Adras. Makaria, O Makaria, my sweet love, 
I come, I come at last! I tarried long, 
But you'll forgive me! I bring blessed news! 
Triumph and victory at last, and joy, 
Unending joy, for us, and happiness. 
O I well knew the gods had pardoned us, 
For to myself ’twas given—but ho, where is she? 
No answer, and I see her not; deserted 

The Western. 

And desolate looks the place! May she yet sleep, 
And sleep so long and deep, parted from me? 
The sun is up—she is not wont to rise 
So far behind the sun. I'll go and rouse her— 
Yet let me do it gently! (Opening the door of the hut and calling.) 
Ho, Makaria! 
Makaria, O my love, awake! shake off 
The heavy hands of sleep! Here’s your Adrastus, 
And a new, joyful morning come! 
(Enter from the hut M1vos.) 
Mil. Who calls 
So loudly here? 
Adras. (Starting back.) By heavens, and what means this? 
’Tis like some sudden, evil transformation, 
Calling on my sweet love there should appear 
Such shape as that! Who are you? 
Mil. Ah, good sir, 
A poor old man, much needing food and rest; 
And a most kind and beauteous lady here— 
Adras. Ah! and where is that lady? Where’s Makaria? (He rushes 
into the hut.) 
Mil. Makaria! ah! Ho, ho, just as I fancied! 
Adras. (Coming out of the hut.) She’s nowhere in the hut, nor dol 
see her, 
Far as my eye can reach! Where isshe? Speak! 
By the immortal gods, old man, speak quickly ; 
What have you done with her, my love, my life? 
Mil. Bless you, good sir, I have done naught with her; 
Know naught of her; can say not where she is— 
Save that just now, ere I went in to rest there, 
As she herself had bid me— (Aside.) Jove! my poor 
Old head’s so dazed with sleep and weariness, 
I know not was this but an hour ago 
Or yesterday ! 
Adras. What is’t you mutter there? 
As she had bid you—and what then? Haste you! 
Mil. Ay, but a little ere I laid me down, 
She went away. 
Adras. She went away! And whither? 
Mil. The gods be with us, sir, I cannot say! 
Glare not so fiercely at me! I do fancy 
It was not far; down to the shore, methinks. 
Adras. Down to the shore? 
Mil. Ay, for I watched her long, 
With rapid steps descending o’er the rocks. 
Adras. Strange, passing strange, to thus depart! Yet, mayhap, 
Gone down but to the fisher’s hut to learn 
If they had news from Athens! 


Den detent toning se 

Ree) ee eet a 

£0 dUbeytatdings 


Mil. (Aside.) More I think on’t 
The more I grow full sure I must have slept 
Through a whole day and night; I never saw 
So early light upon the hills before ! 
But there’s no need he knew this? 
Adras. Said she naught, 
Left she no message for me ere she went— 
For me, Adrastus ? 
Mil. She spoke not your name; 
Ay, but she said, “If, ere myself return, 
One should come here who has the brow and eyes 
Of young Apollo, and a smile like sunshine ”— 
Adras. (Sotto voce.) O darling! yes, I know thee there! 
Mil. Methinks 
That must be you! (Aside.) Though, by the gods, until 
This moment I saw little of the sunshine! 
(Aloud.) “Tell him’— (Aside.) My soul, what did she charge me 
tell him! 
Adras. Ho! tell him what? By the great powers, old man, 
Lash your slow tongue into more vigorous action, 
Lest I do swiftly— 
Mil. “That Ill soon return; 
Within an hour, perchance!” 
Adras. Within an hour! 
And how much of that hour has since gone by? 
Mil. The half, mayhap, or more. 
Adras.. And you're full sure 
She said within an hour? 
Mil. Ay, sir, full sure! 
(Aside.) My life! I know not in good truth if ’twas 
An hour or day she said, but dare not tell him! 
The blame be with himself, if I can give 
No better information. He so frights me 
With his wild looks, and words, and acts, my wits 
Are all confounded, and my poor limbs shaken! 
Adras. (Sotto voce.) Stange, strange, most strange! Yet will I trust 
her words, 
That past all doubt this old man truly tells me— 
Will wait a little while here, with what patience 
My fretting soul may find, lest going now 
In search of her we missed each other’s paths. 
Yet this strange welcome casts a gloomy chill 
O’er all my jovous hopes! (Sits down despondently.) 
Mil. ( Aside.) She verily 
Was this Makaria, then, who catused—and he— 
Well, well, he’s fair in truth, and I scarce marvel— 
As fair most as my own— (Aloud.) Pray, sir, may I 
Make bold to ask whence come you? 
Adras. Straight from Athens ; 

The Western. 

From the great battle-field, old man, tarrying 
But long enough to throw my armor off! 

Mil. Ho, what! from Athens! from the battle-field! 
O, and how went the fight? 

Adras. Victoriously ! 
The city’s saved, and all the fierce war ended; 
Eurystheus captured and bound, and brought 
A helpless prisoner into the town! 

ar Meike + sl 

Mil. Oheaven! O, the great gods be praised, be praised 4 
A thousand times! Nay, ’tis too much of good, i 
Well nigh, to be believed. The city’s saved ; 4 
The war all done; the bloody tyrant captured— : 
Can so great news be true? Did your own eyes ; 

Look on the glorious deed ? 
Adras. Methinks they did; 
For ’twas these hands, old man, that took him captive! 
Mil. Those hands! may the gods bless you, wondrous youth, 
Who freed all the whole land from so great pest! 
But saw you my two sons in the fight? 
Adras. Your sons? and pray how should I know them, think you, 
*Mid all the thousands who did battle there ? 
Mil. Ay, my two sons! tall, noble, beauteous youths, 
Of sturdy limb, bearing upon their shields t 
And on their helmets a small silver serpent! 
Adras. Those of the silver serpent? Ay, in truth 
I noted them! Fair fellows, as you say, 
That fought like very lions! 
Mil. Ah! ’twas they! 
O, and where are they—know you of their fate? 
Adras. One, at the very outset of the fight, 
Was slain by a tall foe; I saw him fall. 
Mil. Was slain, slain, slain! O kindly heaven! and which one? 
Adras. The younger, it appeared—one with bright hair. 
Mil. O blessed gods! O my sweet Telaman! 
Joy of my days, and light of these old eyes! 
My heart foretold at parting I should look 
On thee no more. 
Adras. I crave your pardon, father, 
If, much distracted by my own sad fancies, 
I dealt this blow to you too merciless] y—- 
With too unsoothing hand! 
Mil. Ah well, well, well, sir, 
It matters little how it came! And ’twas 
But the first sudden edge that smarted sharply. 
He gave his life in a most noble cause, : 
For king and country; and my days are numbered— 
I go full soon below to join him! And 
The other—what of him? 
Adras. By some strange chance 

a a 

Leh “Toei De te ati 

Frederick Barbarossa. 

He e’er was in my sight through all the battle; 
I saw him ever here and there, performing 
Marvels of valor wheresoe’er he went. 

Mil. The great gods bless him! 

Adras. And, at last, returning 
Unharmed with our victorious troops to Athens ; 
Though ’twas a miracle how he escaped 
From all the foes that closely pressed him round. 

Mil. O, the sweet powers be praised that kept him safe! 

Spared him to me! One staff is left me still, 
While I must breathe this upper air! But, sir, 
I pray you tell me more yet of the battle, 

And how it was you tuok the enemy captive ? 


From the excessively cheerless history of the political life 

of the German people, some 1,900 years whereof are now 

known to us, one century shines forth with rare glow of 

gay color, though by no means unmixed with dark tints— 

a century of romance, of tremulous gladness, and aspiring 

enthusiasm of new awakened art, culture, and science ; it is 
the century of the Hohenstauffens, the century of the Minne- 
singers and Troubadours, of Coeur de Lion and the Crusaders. 
Effectively, this century is ushered in by the grand figure of 
the blue-eyed, golden-haired emperor, Frederick Barba- 
rossa, or, rather, Frederick von Hohenstautfen. A rare 

romance circles around his dynasty, a romance gilded with 

all the splendor of power on earth, and promising endurance 

for ages, yet ending abruptly, after a mere hundred years of 

existence, in the woeful tragedy of a scaffold. 

But love for 

the fair beauty of Italy, which, ever since the days of Char- 
lemagne, thrilled and drew to destruction the rulers of 

Germany—which seems to have impassionated these men 

of the northern climes with fierce desire to revel in the 

glories of her body—proved also the element of destruction 

to the Hohenstauffen family, and at last delivered into the 


The Western. 

hands of the executioner that ‘* sweet young man,’’ Con- 
radin, the last of the race, of whom we have preserved to 
us two Minnesongs that mourn touchingly his lady’s hard- 
hearteduess in considering him too young to taste the bliss 
of love. 

A little ballad by a talented modern German poet, Count 
Moritz von Strachwitz, gives a very effective, Rembrandt 
sort of picture of this tragical end of the Hohenstauffen 
rule—Barbarossa riding over the ruins of Milan, and there 
made to realize in a vision the doom of his house: 

*‘Ave, Longobards, I trow ye, that ride sore grieved ye then, 
Which Frederick Barbarossa rode o’er battered Milan. 
Light shone the Emperor’s courser, a Frisian ’twas by birth, 
With Walish blood ’twas checkered far over the saddle’s girth. 

There sat the Hohenstauffen, from head to foot steel-clad, 

The heavy knob of his saber against his hip he staid ; 

His head thrown grimly backward, his lip pinched, red, and slim, 
His beard rose as a mountain, each separate hair flashed grim. 

How laydst, Milan, so low thou, thou erst so high and free ; 

All shattered in bloody soaked ashes, thou pearl of fair Lombardy. 

The dust in wind-gusts whirled aloft where columns not long since stood, 
And trampling over the marble the heavy-hoofed charger trod. 

Then silence over the ruins — none of the men durst speak — 
For his imperial courser th’ avenger’d reined in quick. 

Then deeper grew the silence, and all men stood at bay — 
Straight ’fore the victor’s pathway a dying rebel lay. 

Who, rearing half his body up forcibly ’fore the troop, 

Looked with an unextinguishable deathly-some wrath to him up, 

Nor piteously cried, Have Mercy! nor whiningly begged for self, 

But gnashed from under his helm forth the stubborn cry: Here, Guelf! 

This shook the grim destroyer, how firm he’d seemed till now; 

A dreadful thought struck a-sudden its heavy reins over his brow. 
He saw by southernly ocean a scaffold gloomy red, 

Where the last Hohenstauffen his last prayer, kneeling, pray’d.” 

To get anything like an adequate appreciation of what 
this Barbarossa was, and what significance he had for Ger- 
many, it will be necessary to give a short sketch of events 
in Germany from the time of that Henry IV. whose terrible 

* hede. 

eG pas A I Ti loi 02s 

OAR ae TA a TO Re 


AYES Re ke Meinee eae 

9 AA oie 8 TARR 

See ie 

Frederick Barbarossa. a7 

struggle with Pope Gregory VII. has made him more 
universally known than any other of the German emperors. 
After having been so exasperatingly humiliated by that Pope 
at Canossa, and restored to his crown only through the 
intercession of the Countess Matilda, Henry, returning to 
Germany, found it of immediate necessity to strengthen 
himself by raising some new, reliable friends to whatever 
power he had in his hands to bestow. In pursuance of this 
policy he gave to Count Frederick von Bueren, an intimate 
friend and a man somewhat of his own stamp—proud and 
haughty, but gifted with far greater self-control, amiability, 
and firmness of character—the Dukedom of Suabia, at the 
same time bestowing upon him the hand of his daughter 
Agnes. Von Bueren shortly afterwards removed his castle 
from the foot of a mountain named Hohen Stauffen to its 
summit, and he, having christened that new castle Hohen- 
stauffen, was ever after called by that name; though he 
and his family were also known by the name of Weiblingen, 
from their castle Weibling, a name which the Italians in 
latter times changed into Guibelline—a terrible word in the 
history of Italian politics. Frederick von Hohenstauffen 
served his emperor faithfully to the end, and showed the 
same fidelity to the son, Henry V. In consideration of the 
great services of this family, Henry V., besides confirming 
the Dukedom of Suabia to Frederick’s oldest son, also called 
Frederick, endowed his second son, Conrad, with the Duke- 
dom of Franconia. The widow of the first Frederick von 
Hohenstauffen, his sister Agnes, he married to the Margrave 
Leopold of Austria, from the house of Babenberg, thereby 
laying the foundation of that intimacy between the houses 
of Babenberg and Hohenstauffen which subsequently proved 
so great a boon to art and literature. 

Even before Emperor Henry IV. had thus laid the foun- 
dation of the grandeur of the house of Hohenstauffen, he 
had, with the same view of raising himself new and powerful 

28 The Western. 

friends, though probably in this instance also influenced by 
the Countess Matilda, conferred the Dukedom of Bavaria 
upon Welf—or, as the Italians call him, Guelf—a son of the 
Italian Margrave Azzo d’ Este,’ having for that purpose 
taken the dukedom most injustly from its legal possessor, 
Otto of Nordheim. Thus, together with the family of the 
Hohenstauffen, or Guibellines, the family of the Guelfs rose 
to great power in Germany, and both became in a manner 

The rivalry soon came to an outbreak. With the death 
of Henry V., the Salic line of German emperors became 
extinct—his wife, Matilda, daughter of King Henry I. of 
England, having been childless—and a new election was 
ordered. Three candidates were proposed: Lothar, of 
Saxony ; Leopold, of Austria ; and Frederick Hohenstauffen, 
of Suabia. The two first-named princes did not want the 
crown, and begged on their knees to be relieved from its 
responsibility. Frederick showed by his whole manner that 
he considered himself the only one fit for the position. His 
haughty bearing, however, contributed perhaps more than 
other considerations to his defeat. Lothar, of Saxony, was 
elected in spite of himself. This vexed the Hohenstauffens, 
both Frederick and Conrad, and they did their best to make 
Lothar’s reign a burden to him. To protect himself, 
Lothar made a close friend of Henry, Duke of Bavaria, a 
descendant of Welf; gave him his daughter Gertrude in mar- 
riage ; and made him, moreover, Duke of Saxony. Henry 
thus became greater even than the emperor himself, for, 
with his two powerful Dukedoms of Saxony and Bavaria, 

1It may be of interest to mention that the great Leibnitz undertook his 
journey to Italy some five centuries later for the sole purpose of tracing out 
and putting into historical form the connection of this house with the German 
Brandenburg dynasty. The magnificent work of Leibnitz, which contains the 
result of his studies, and in which he took special pride, has never been pub- 
lished, though the whole Welf family of Europe would seem to have an 
interest in its publication. 

Frederick Barbarossa. 29 

and his claim to the estates of the Countess Matilda—a 
claim based on his relation to the house d’ Este—his posses- 
sions extended from the Elb to Italy. 

The death of Lothar brought the rivalry of these two 
great chiefs of the German Empire into an open conflict. 
When the imperial electors came together, their choice fell, 
not upon the powerful Duke of Bavaria and Saxony, but 
upon one of the Hohenstauffens. They chose Conrad, of 
Franconia, however, instead of Frederick, of Suabia, and 
Conrad tarried not long in making use of his power to cur- 
tail that of his’ great rival, of Bavaria. His first step was 
to ask Henry to resign his Dukedom of Saxony, alleging 
that it was improper for any German prince to hold more 
than one dukedom. When Henry refused, he deposed him 
of both dukedoms, giving that of Bavaria to Leopold, of 
Austria; but that of Saxony was, after Henry’s death, 
restored to his son, the famous Henry the Lion. 

Thus began, under Conrad, King of Germany— he was 
never crowned Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire — the 
rule of the Hohenstauffen family, and with it a great change 
set in upon the people of Germany. Before that time the 
few men whose lives were not, in some way or another, 
drawn into the incessant brawls and battles of politics had 
devoted their energies either to the study of alchemy or to 
the almost equally entrancing study of scholastic philoso- 
phy. For it was at this period that, for the second time, a 
vast impulse of study and learning had been diverted from 
Ireland upon the people of France and Germany ; this time 
inaugurated by one of the acutest minds known to philo- 
sophical history — Scotus Erigena. 

In our day it is almost impossible to realize the effect 
such men produced at that time upon the general public. 
It is only in reading the life of Abelard that we catch a 
glimpse of the mental condition of that age — multitudes 
of those whose life was not devoted to war assembling 

30 The Western. 

around their respective teachers and listening with the 
enthusiasm of panting souls for some new unuttered word. 
Meanwhile the Orient had opened its mysterious lotus 
eye, gazing with six thousand years of unfathomable yearn- 
ing, half doubtful, half hopeful, upon its truant children, 
this same strange people of Western Europe, wondering 
whether they would or would not come to solve its world- 
long riddle of the Sphinx. And, whilst through Haroun 
Al Raschid it had made offers as early as the days of 
Charlemagne, when the Occident was not yet ripe for the 
solution, it now again arose, and, beckoning with solemn 
gesture to its treasures of learning, of sciences, of arts, of 
Homer, of Aristotle, of Phydias, it once more entreated its 
blue-eyed children to take those treasures and see whether 
they might not be more successful in interpreting their 
meaning than their parents had been. And yet it was not 
until the solemn gesture rested upon the grave of the child 
of Bethlehem that the Western people arose as one man to 
hasten to the appeal. It was under Godfrey, of Bouillon, 
that the first crusade set foot on the ground of Palestine. 
Then arose strange signs all over Germany. Stragglers 
came back and spoke and sang adventurous deeds and holy 
feelings in a new, hitherto utterly unknown, manner. The 
chant would start and halt, and come back again to the 
halt, with a kiss, as it were, of the same or a similar sound- 
ing word, and men and women drew near to marvel and 
thrill with ecstasy at this beauteous art of song. Other 
stragglers came back and spoke of the supreme beauties of 
human form cut into stone and marble in the far-off countries, 
and of rare and wondrous designs of groups, some incom- 
prehensible in meaning, but others as clearly telling their 
story as if it had been told in words; and of marvelous 
women of marble, sculptured so impassionately that they 
would fascinate men as if alive. Then, again, came troops of 
men, walking barefoot or on sandals, clad in the roughest 

Sint iin andi obits er 



SoA Hae ba Ts 88 

sce He 


Frederick Barbarossa. 51 
gowns, and begging their way from one country to another, 
with carefully covered manuscripts or papyrus of pergament 
under their arms, and spoke in mysterious whispers of 
2a wonderful lore discovered in the far-off East, or of enchant- 
ing poems of ancient Troy, beleaguered ten years by a 
powerful western force, and all for the sake of a Greek 
woman. And now there was another army from the far 
West, beleaguering another eastern city, Jerusalem, not for 
the sake of the beauty of a woman, however, this time, but 
for the sake of the grave of a poor woman’s poor son, Jesus, 
the Christ. 

With all these announcements of a new life, of new arts, 
of new sciences, it is not to be wondered at that there 
bloomed and sprouted forth in the hearts of men all over 
Europe a gladness, poetry, and romance the like of which 
has never since been known. 

In our English literature we hear the last, though also the 
most superb, tones of this splendid gladness in the works of 
Geoffrey Chaucer. 

The beginning broke out, naturally enough, amidst the 

“men who, withdrawn from war and the tumult of war, 

hitherto had nothing but philosophy for their mental food. 
In rhythm and rhyme poured forth from their souls long 
suppressed emotions in a rhythm and rhyme that still shook 
unevenly from the intensity of their suppression. But soon 
the strange art of rhyme, brought back by the stragglers of 
the first crusade, took firmer hold amongst the people, and 
broke out in tones of half fierce, half tender beauty. The 
old legends of Attila and his fight with the people of Bur- 
gundy, coming with those of the horde of the Niebelungen, 
were sung in the one same strain all over the country. 
Then, as the younger people—the youths and maidens of 
the castles and the country—asked the same artist to sing to 
them, not only old, forgotten legends, but their own living, 
every-day feelings, the bard of the people changed into a 
minstrel and sang songs like these, by the oldest one known 

32 The Western. 

of them, Von Kuerenberg, in the same strain as he had 
sang to them of the Niebelungen : 

“Late at night I ventured, lady, ’fore thy bed ; 
Then durst I not awake thee, in sweet slumber laid.” 
“This I give thee no thanks for—now God save thy luck! 
Surely, I was not a wild boar!” Thus the lady spoke: 

‘When late at eve, in night-dress, I stand all alone 
And think of thee, my noble knight, my love, my own, 
Then blooms forth all my color, as the rose blooms on its thorn, 
And in my heart there enters many a thought forlorn. 

** Aye, in my heart there centers many a weary sigh, 
For what I have such longing, and yet must deny, 
Nor ever can achieve me—’tis a wretched lot! 
I mean not gold and silver, but him who rules my thought. 

“T nursed me a falcon longer than a year; 
When I had him so tamed as I'd wished he were, 
And all around his feathers gay tied many a golden band, 
He far up high him lifted and flew to another land. 

“Since what time again I saw my falcon fly, 
Saw all around his feathers gay many a silken tie, 
And all around his breast saw tied many a band of red, 
God sweetly bring together whom love together led.” 

In the first great crusade, of 1096, the German people did 
not take a very active part; but when, in 1147, Bernard of 
Clairveance raised the second great outcry over the dis- 
grace of Jerusalem, a frenzy seized upon them. When this 
gifted monk, who had hitherto employed his powerful rhet- 
oric against those subtle reasoners of his age, Gilbert de 
la Torrei, Petrus Lombardus, Abelard, etc., suddenly 
started on his tour over the lands of France and Germany, 
the princes, nobles, knights, and vassals of every section 
of the country were swept along by his impassioned plead- 
ing, and struggled as to who should be first to catch the 
badge of the cross under which to enlist. With the same 
zeal wherewith he had fought his scholastic adversaries he 
now cried out for rescue from the subjection of the grave 
of Christ to the sword of the Saracens—a race of men that. 

SS Pee eae enca ee 

DES bree pai earl eT en i 


Dy ee CE Oe Te Co ee 


sepia iad ah coon 

bic veer Aepraiia seasbene ion 


Sanh leah! slid 

ROH Eve 

Frederick Barbarossa. 33 

had astonished the rough Westerners by their grace of 
manner, courtesy, and their refined behavior, as well as 
by their fierce bravery and warlike qualities—in the land of 
the Jews ; and, with hearts rendered easily inflammable by 
the strange new life swept back from Asia by the first cru- 
sade, the people followed him. His speech was as a wind- 
driven fire ; the barefooted monk had to tear his cloak into 
shreds to provide crosses enough for the enlisting multi- 
tude. For along time did Conrad von Hohenstauffen with- 
stand the exhortation of the priest. None of the Hohenstauf- 
fens had ever much faith in the crusades, or, indeed, in any 
external paraphernalia of the Church; but when this fiery 
priest brought at last the fullness of his eloquence in public 
to bear upon his sovereign, Conrad humbly arose in the 
church, fastened the cross upon his sleeve, and said he would 
no longer resist, since the voice of God had spoken within 
him. He had intended just then to go to Rome and be 
crowned Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire; as it was, 
he sacrificed this ambition, and gathered all the nobles under 
his rule to sally forth with him to Jerusalem. But, of all 
the knights that followed him, there was not one whom he 
learned to love and admire so much as his gay young 
nephew, his brother Frederick of Suabia’s son, the future 
emperor, Frederick Barbarossa. In every battle, first and 
foremost show the red locks and beard of the reckless 
youth ; if at eve the favored knights gathered around King 
Conrad’s tent, none so gay in making the night air ring 
with strange songs of love and versified dialogues between 
knight and lady, Romeo and Juliet, than young Frederick ; 
nor did many exceed him in the new lore of telling rare 
legends of the great King Arthur in his fairy realm of 
Avondale, or of Roland, the bravest of the knights of Char- 
lemagne. Furthermore, if after battle or march calm 
counsel was needed, King Conrad marveled at the astute- 
ness and diplomatic skill which his young nephew exhibited. 
And thus it chanced that Conrad, wisely preferring his expe- 

Vol. 4, No. 1—3. 

34 The Western. 

rienced nephew to his own infant heir, recommended Bar- 
barossa to the votes of the German princes, when, shortly 
after his return from the Crusade, he felt his end approach- 
ing. Frederick was thirty-one years old when the German 
princes, in accordance with Conrad’s wish, chose him to be 
their king and ruler. 

‘sWherever he went, it seemed as if he gave to men, 
earth, and the skies a new, peaceful character,’’ is the 
remark made by one of the contemporary chroniclers of his 
times, in speaking of Frederick. Nothing, indeed, as has 
already been said, so much strikes the student of the history 
of that time and century as this new character, this rare 
gladness, joyousness, cheeriness, exuberance of heavenly 
delight in living, which contrasts so sadly with the subse- 
quent gloom ; and in no man is this joyousness more admi- 
rably exhibited than in the strong, proud, quick figure of 
Frederick—blithe, and full of life in every muscle of the 
body, in every inch of his fair, rose-tinted skin. Filled with 
the learning, gathered up by him on the Crusade—the vista 
into a new life of deliverance from the bondage of savagery — 
of beauty in art, and clear knowledge in science, which that 
learning opened to his sight, a life of which his present elec- 
tion would make him the chief director and ornament, no 
doubt inspired the dominant policy of his whole reign, as it 
colored its whole life. Culture poured, indeed, just then 
into Europe in exhaustless streams ; if, in the East, Saladin 
opened libraries and museums, and sent copies of Aristotle 
and Plotinus to new arising libraries in the West, by way 
of Spain, the Arabs from Africa drowned Christendom in 
the West with no less a flood of solid erudition and romantic 
lore ; along with mathematics, astronomics, and metaphysical 
puzzles came from them the Thousand and One Nights and 
the Myths of the St. Grail. 

Nor should it be ever forgotten in our days that, had it 
not been for the cloisters which were being established in 
that age over all Europe, the learning opened to their Euro- 



Frederick Barbarossa. 35 

pean brethren by the baffled students of the East would 
probably have soon perished. It was that same Ireland, 
which men nowaday call bigoted, and a stumbling-block to 
progress, from which early Germany and France received 
their first germs of civilization, when Columba, Gablus, 
Killian, Emeran, etc., traveled over the wilds of those 
countries to open the savage mind of their inhabitants to 
higher knowledge, and which in a later time nourished the 
freest philosophical thinking, and spread a new impulse of 
study over all Europe; and it was in the much-abused 
cloisters of the middle ages that men of rare self-abnegation, 
and devotedness to culture of ancient wisdom, literature, 
and art, preserved and elaborated for us all that has con- 
tributed to bring about our present stage of advancement. 

Frederick Barbarossa signalized the inauguration of his 
reign by an act which was almost too generous for sound 
policy. He reinvested Henry the Lion, Duke of Saxony, 
with the Dukedom of Bavaria, thus restoring to the Welfish 
house all its former power. (It may be mentioned, by the 
by, that the Welfish house was as distinguished by its black 
beard and hair as the Hohenstauffens were famous for their 
blondness.) It is true that Frederick, being himself slightly 
related by his mother’s side to that house, may have 
thought that this generous act would change an ancient feud 
into close friendship ; but the step was undoubtedly a very 
risky one. With quick resolve he then hastened to readjust 
on a basis of peace and justice the internal affairs of his 
kingdom, so sadly put out* of order by the disorganizing 
influences of the last crusade. For, over the whole country, 
bold, lawless knights, fancying themselves secure in the 
absence of the nobler princes on crusading expeditions, had 
put up temporary castles, or taken forcible possession of 
such as had been left without sufficient defense, and from 
these strongholds plundered all travelers that passed their 
neighborhood, or could be plundered within the range of 
their forces. To suppress this extensive land-privateering 

36 The Western. 

Frederick exercised all his energy and time. To secure still 
more firmly the administration of justice at home, as well 
as to obtain support in his great project—the fatal project 
of all German rulers since the days of the ill-starred Charle- 
magne—of reducing Italy to closer subjection under his 
rule—he successfully forced the kings of Denmark, Hun- 
gary, Poland, and Bohemia to swear allegiance to him. 
Thus fixed in power he followed the irresistible temptation, 
and moved upon Italy.2 At that time the northern part of 
Italy, in Lombardy, under the new upstarting order of 
things, great mercantile cities had sprung up and clad them- 
selves with all the power of kingdoms and empires. It is 
the fashion of history to drift into raptures of admiration 
when speaking of these cities and their republican institu- 
tions; but as a mere word will not change a fact, so the 
entitling republican the Lombardian cities of the twelfth 
and thirteenth centuries will not, or at least should not, con- 
ceal what is so clearly written in their history—that nowhere 
was less of individual freedom, less of justice and security, 
to be found than under the flags of those cities. It is not, 
of course, to be supposed that Barbarossa invaded Italy and 
struggled with the enormous power of those cities from 
any care for the welfare of the people at large; nor, again, 
can historians be blamed very much if they base their dis- 
quisitions on the stand-point of nationality, and lament that 
the German should have planted his hated rule upon the 
free soil of the Italian. These nationality-generalizations, 
however, are altogether of little account, and the only ques- 
tion should be whether or not the laws, and administrations 
of laws, of the King of Lombardy and ‘‘ Emperor of the 
Roman Empire’’ represented greater individual freedom, 
justice, and security than the laws and rule of the republican 
cities of Lombardy. 

2 That Barbarossa was conscious of the fatality of this enchantment appears 
from the exclamation he made in a later time, when listening to a history of 
Alexander the Great: ‘‘ How happy was he that he did not know Italy.” 





a Te ee ae oe 


Frederick Barbarossa. 37 

Mixed up with this vexed question of so-called republi- 
can institutions in Lombardy on the one, and imperial rule 
of Germany on the other, hand, there is to be considered 
the by no means inferior question of the spiritual rule of 
the Pope, as opposed against the temporal rule of the 
empire, which followed, as it had followed, every attempt of 
the German emperors to fix their foot-hold in Italy. And it 
may be well to record the fact that never was a nian more 
short-sighted and impolitic than the great Charlemagne— 
whom Germany and France absurdly rival in claiming as 
their own ‘** emperor’’—when he laid the foundation for 
the insane desire of subsequent German princes to rule Italy, 
and thus engage in conflict with the spiritual chief of the 
Christian Church. If Charlemagne had any rule of con- 
duct at all for his actions, it was certainly this: To estab- 
lish a temporal Christian Empire—an empire of all the 
Christian nations of the earth. Successfully to accomplish 
this, it was absolutely necessary to refrain from incurring 
any possibility of a collision with the established chief of 
the spiritual Christian Empire. And yet it was Charle- 
magne, Karl der Grosse, who not only incurred the possi- 
bility of such a collision, but made it unavoidable for all his 

In this his first visit to Italy, Frederick was in the main 
successful. In his great and magnificent camp on the Ron- 
calian fields, 1154, he settled many existing disputes between 
the larger and smaller cities. Special complaints, for in- 
stance, had been made against Milan—her oppression of 
Lodi, Coma, and other Lombardian cities, a disorderly con- 
duct which grated on Barbarossa’s soul above anything else. 
He was then crowned, at Savia, King of Lombardy, met with 
courteous receptions wherever he stayed, and, after some 
little sparring with Pope Adrian, was crowned Emperor of 
the Roman Empire, at Rome, June 11, 1155. 

When Barbarossa returned to Germany he was in the 

38 The Western. 

zenith of his glory—young, powerful, loved, and beloved— 
in the midst of a new-born world of art and science that shed 
glorious radiance over his whole German people. Peace 
and security reigned everywhere—none of his princes dared 
to entertain thoughts of revolt. Even the great Welfish 
Duke of Saxony and Bavaria was now his friend and sup- 
porter, and, in his own city of Vienna, Frederick had the 
select society of the Dukes of Babenberg and the Dukes of 
Austria, and the world of artists generally that congregated 
at their palaces. And it was to be noted that the minstrels 
now sang no more altogether in the Niebelungen stanza, but 
in infinitely different forms, and that the knights and 
princes seemed to arrogate to themselves altogether this 
new art of singing in new tones, though the old minstrels 
of the people still roamed over the country with their bal- 
lads of the Huns and Goths. Very few of these earliest 
Minnesongs have been handed down to our day. Those 
that follow may serve as specimens. The first one, by 
Markgrave von Regensburg, still resembles the Niebelungen 
stanza ; it is, one might say, a timid variation of it. Those 
by Veldecke move already with a steadier rhythm, and 
betoken the coming glory of the full-developed Minnesong. 
Dietmar von Est’s poems are also noticeable as introducing 
the Spanish assonance in the third of his songs here given, 
and a variation of the Niebelungen stanza in the first. 


Iam, with genuine steadfastness, of noble knight the subject blessed ; 
How sweet it seems unto my heart when he me dearly has caressed ! 
He, whom his many virtues good 

Have made esteemed by all the world; surely he high exalts my mood! 

The whole world cannot take from me whom I so long my choice have 

The true love of my heart and soul, who me so long a time has loved. 

Aye, though the world should perish all, 

I'll always gracious be to him; then envious women ’!l meet their fall. 



cet Dein SC a 

Frederick Barbarossa. 


Now at last “has been accomplished what my heart desired— 
A noble woman me has taken—with her love inspired, 

And now her subject I am fain, 

As is the ship to the pilotman, 

When all the waves and all the water mind his slightest touch ; 
Lo-ho-hohi! they take from me wild mood overmuch. 

“T hear them tell the many virtues of a goodly knight, 
It touches me in wond’rous measure, and my soul makes bright ; 
I never now can him forget,” 
A woman spoke, “ Alas, sweet mate! 
Now must I all the world abjure me for his love alone, 
Lo-ho-hohi! the blessed man! how well he’s won his own!” 

How can my heart become, pray tell me, ever glad again, 
Since me a noble woman worketh so much woe and pain? 
Whom I have served with endless zeal ; 

Bending each thought to her fair will, 

And now refuses she to think of how I’ve suffered, aye ; 
Lo-ho-hohi! oh, dear, my lady, do not turn away! 


Sleep’st thou, sweetheart? Ah, woe us! 
The morn, too, soon calls to us! 

A little birdlet warbling sweet, 

Has perched upon its linden-seat. 

“Sweet sleep had me o’ertaken; 
Now call’st thou; child awaken! 
Love never may be without woe; 
What thou me bidst I’ll do, and go.” 

Softly she wept: “ Oh, grievest 

Of fates! Thou me here leavest 

And ridest off! Come soon again; 

My joy thou bearest with thee, dear man !”” 


Alone there stood a woman 
And looked o’er the heather’s common, 
And looked for her darling. 
Then saw she a falcon soaring: 
“‘ Oh, bless thee, falcon, where thou art, 
Thou flyest where it likes thy heart! 

The Western. 

Thou thee in the greenwood forest 

A tree to please thee choosest. 

Even so have I, too, done; 

I took for myself and love a man 

Whom my eyes with care had chosen ; 

Now, envious women would love him— 

Ah, woe, why let they my love not be? 

Sure, never their sweethearts wished I for me! 

Blessed thou bliss of summer! 

The birdlet’s song whispers slumber, 
Even as the linden-leaves. 

The whole year long me have grieved, 
Ever and ever mine eyes, love! 

Take care thou do not spy, love, 
After other women! 

My darling, keep thou from them! 
When thou the first time saw’st me, 
So fair, so fair, thou thought’st me, 
So very sweet and lovable! 

This, darling, I to thee recall.” 


Many a heart brought grief the cold, cold, winter weather, 
It has conquered both the greenwood and the heather, 
Their green dress and bird’s gay feather ; 

Winter, with thee all my sorrows leave together. 

When May comes at lust and hoary winter wrinkles, 
And sweet dew the meadow’s flowers all besprinkles, 
And the greenwood with song tinkles— 

Then the eye of my love with enjoyment twinkles. 

My love likes to take me to the linden’s cover, 
He whom I’d press to my heart and kiss all over; 
He shall pluck there flowers, my lover! 

For a rare wreath we will wrestle in the clover! 

I know well he ne’er will take from me the pleasure 
My heart found in him, that joy and rare love treasure 
Which gives every grief short measure. 

By us both were many flowers crushed in fond pressure. 

With white arms in my embrace I’ll fondly fold him, 
With my red mouth to his mouth glued, sweetly hold him, 
Whom my eyes confessed and told him 

Dearest of all things they saw, and so inthralled him! 



bent ay tee 

Frederick Barbarossa. 


The birdlets sing in glee, 

Beholding now the flowers forth-bud ; 

Their song delight my mood, 
And brings good cheer to me. 
Henceforth from care I’m free! 

God bless the darling, dear and good— 
Across the Rhine lives she— 

Who has stay’d all my sorrow’s flood, ' 
Though far from her lonely I wander. 


What time men genuine love pursued, 
They followed honor’s banner. 
But now both day, and night men’s mood 
Shows but disgraceful manner. 
And who saw that and now this sees, 
Alas, must he not mourn at this, 
That things have grown so far the worse and wanner? 


He who by love is so much blessed, 
That he love’s service may attain, 
And he through love by grief is pressed— 
Hail him, he is a happy man! 
From love man all that’s good receives, 
*Tis love that us a pure soul gives ; 
What without love should I do then? 

I love my dear, nor thanks e’er claim, 

I well know that her love is pure. 
If my love be not free of blame, 

Then never love was true and sure. 
My love its thanks her fain would prove ; 
My song clings faithful to her love! 

In this belief rest ye secure. 


The Western. 

“And oftentimes the Merman King 
Beckons me to his palace halls, 



Gay crowds who idly walk the strand 
Turn mocking from the Diver’s hand. 
What treasure of the deep is here ? 
No wondrous sea-gift’s mute surprise 
He lifts to their waiting, eager eyes ; 
No strange, wan Pearl from dim sea-dreams, 
Thrilled by first touch of baffling beams. 
‘‘Fond dreamer of the sea!” they sneer; 
“He wrestles with Death beneath the wave, 
Only these childish baubles to save !” 

A handful of pebbles with curious veins, 
And traced with soft prismatic stains ; 
Some whispering .£olian shell 
That repeats the Naiad’s secret well, 
And holds the touch of her trusting lip— 
Bloom that would the rose enhance— 
On crimson coral’s budding stem; 
Fetter on truant tress to slip 
Of damsel at a village dance ; 
No Pear] for a queenly diadem! 

Unheeding, the Diver murmurs and strays 
Vacant amidst the idle throng ; 
Seaward he turns his wistful gaze : 

‘For the breathless plunge I ever long— 
The downward flight through emerald waves ! 
Far up, the winds may wrestle and strain, 
And sweep the remorseless hurricane ; 
But low, in the hush’d sea’s charmed caves, 
The battle of tempest never raves. 
The billows sleep from their wild distress ; 
The tattered sail hangs motionless 
Where the wreck lies on the level sand; 
And there I walk the silent strand, 
Where swift through vale and seaweed grove 
Resplendent creatures of ocean rove. 

The Poet’s Fable. 

Which ripple with pensive murmuring 
Of strange, elusive songs that wing 

Their way among the winding walls ; 
Echoes to echoes toss and fling 
The wild refrain bewildering. 
And I may linger, and loiter, and roam 
There at will, in the Merman’s home, 
As the spell of revelry beguiles, 
Through beckoning vistas of wondrous aisles, 
*Neath radiant arch and crystal dome, 
Fair as bubble of sea-wind’s foam, 
And starred with gems commingling bright 
To flood the halls with unearthly light. 

‘** And sometimes leads the blithe Sea King 
Still on, where the richer echoes ring; 
Through rosier arbors of coral vines, 
Where the palace’s deep adytum shines ; 
And brings me before his radiant Queen, 
Sitting upon a throne serene; 
One full-orbed pearl, most royal boon, 
On her snow-white breast—like the Harvest Moon, 
Serene, and wondrous beautiful ! 

‘*And I may gaze upon her there, 

And feel the sea-pulse throb and lull 

That floats away her shining hair. 

She sings, and plays on a harp of gold, 

A strain ever new—a strain ever old. 
I list to the flow of her wild song, 

Which soars through the palace—bewitching strain, 
That mortal who hears shall forever long 

For the haunted realm of the sea again. 

“A guest in the Palace of Delight, 
I speed at last on my upward flight— 
No Pearl of the Sea King’s store in my hand, 
Nor gem from the palace’s pavement fair, 
And the covetous throng who bask on the strand 
Mock at the tinted trifles I bear. 
Tongue-tied, I tremble upon the shore, 
And cannot repeat the wonders o’er 
Of the mystic sea and her treasures rare; 
Nor sing the enchanting song again 
That forever rings in my throbbing brain.” 

The Western. 


Whenever the conditions of social and political affairs 
begin to seriously affect the every-day life of men by in- 
creasing their obligations or restricting the liberties to 
which they have been accustomed, the people react upon 
society and state to obtain a remedy for their troubles. In 
former times, and even to-day under many governments, 
this reaction of the people would assume the form of revo- 
lution, in which existing institutions might be forcibly over- 
thrown to make way for others ; but with us so intimate is 
the relationship between the government and the citizens 
that the public institutions reflect and repeat the public 
mood as soon as distinctly shown. 

Just at this time, when people of all classes are suffering 
from the effects of business depression and the great reduc- 
tion of values, both of material and labor, they feel keenly 
the burdens of taxation which did not formerly oppress 
them, and in the spirit of economy, which necessity has 
aroused, they demand that the same prudence that has 
become essential in private life be also shown in the man- 
agement of public affairs. They demand particularly that 
no unnecessary expense shall be allowed to waste the pub- 
lic funds, and by unnecessary is meant that which does 
not return an equivalent of good to the body politic. That 
the expenditure of public money is justified by this principle 
of equivalent return is manifest enough, but, when it is 
asked, ** What constitutes such a return?’’ and, ‘Is it 
actually received?’’ the answer is not so ready, and, when 
given, is subject to dispute. 

The answers are indeed decided by the people, who indi- 
rectly, but none the less effectually, determine the definite 
purposes for which their agents shall make appropriations ; 

Relation of High School to School System. 45 

but since the people are ever at liberty to revise their own 
acts, their decisions are always subject to their changing 
will, and, of late, there has arisen an imperative necessity 

for subjecting the action of public agents to close scrutiny. 

The institutions of society and state certainly rest upon a 
basis more enduring than the fickle, popular whim, but, 
owing to the fact that the majority of the people are clearly 
conscious only of a desire to better their present condition, 
and are not clear as to the ways and means to accomplish 
the desired end, they are apt to be misled by appearances, 
or by influential leaders shrewd and plausible enough to 
turn vague discontent into definite channels, which shall be, 
in some form, personally profitable. 

In the recent agitation of the school question there 
appeared the same spirit of retrenchment which has so 
extensively manifested itself of late in the relations of the 
people and the government, for this idea had taken posses- 
sion of the popular mind, and had gotten into such a habit 
of expressing itself that it must do so, whether cause for it 
existed or not. 

It is only through the conflict of the radical and the con- 
servative elements that a healthy state of vigor and steady 
development are maintained ; that which is valid and ra- 
tional is made more apparent, while that which is incidental 
and unimportant declares its nature and asks to be removed. 
When, therefore, we find that any considerable element of 
the community regard the High School as an unessential 
part of the school system, and, from motives of economy 
or for any other reason, recommend that it be modified or 
abolished, it behooves us to examine into the ground of its 
existence, that we may satisfy ourselves, at least, that our 
belief in it as a rational institution is well grounded. 

We usually hear the question, as to the value of the High 
School to the community, presented in some such manner 
as this: ‘*Is not the maintenance of the High School an 
unwarranted expense?’’ ‘Is it an advantage that the 

46 The Western. 

Grammar Schools should be determined with reference to the 
higher education, or otherwise?’’ ‘*Are High Schools a 
benefit to the other schools?’’ ‘*Are they a source of 
advantage to the rich, to the practical exclusion of the 
poor?’’ ** By what right is an extra burden imposed upon 
tax-payers for the purpose of giving an advanced education 
to the few?’’ These, and other questions similar to them, 

have agitated all interested in their settlement, and will con- 
tinue so to do; but, though a full and final answer to any 
one of them would involve an answer to all, yet the inquiry 
is not generally carried on in a satisfactory manner; and 
these varied, and often contradictory, objections are merely 

offset by disjointed statements of the advantages which the 
higher education contributes. 

To justify the existence of the High School we must see 
that it does not depend upon a mere contingency, but that 
it springs from the need of society; the people, in their 
efforts to express and assert themselves, must have, along 
with many others, this particular institution as a means by 
which they manifest their nature ; for all institutions are the 
utterances of public spirit, and are the varied forms of 
national life. In them, with all diversity of character, we 
find this common principle, this common energy, originat- 
ing, sustaining, and directing their activity. 

With the American people this principle is that idea of 
freedom which sprang up among the colonies, determined 
their revolt, and created the new national life. And this 
idea of freedom must be taken ina fuller and truer sense 
than that of mere liberty of speech and thought ; it includes 
the right of each to share the general welfare —the privilege 
of gaining as much as to him is possible of that which goes 
to make life desirable. The only restriction to be placed 
on his efforts is this: That, in exercising his own rights, he 
shall not infringe upon the like rights of others. Inasmuch 
as the means by which he isto gain and hold the desired 
objects affect others besides himself, they must be pre- 

Relation of High School to School System. 47 

scribed for him, but, since he is one of the people just so far 
as he is in accord with the community, he determines these 
means for himself, and assists in their establishment. 

Institutions, then, are means by which society reaches after 
such of the world’s goods as it esteems valuable. Through 
experience, and constant readjustment to growing needs, 
institutions become perfected as systems, and return to the 
people, with ever-increasing facility, the results of their 
actions ; and, as they sprang from the idea of freedom in the 
people, so should they express this in their form, and return 
to the people a larger and truer freedom of practical life. 
It is their office to secure this to each man in the fullest 
possible measure, which means that he shall be allowed to 
work out his own destiny, to receive the just reward of his 
own labor—an adequate return for his deeds, good for 
good, evil for evil. 

The educational institution finds its validity as the means 
by which the people reach after the world’s intelligence and 
knowledge, and though this may be differently stated, as 
when we say that popular education is designed to meet 
commercial, practical, or political needs, yet this, while true, 
does not express the whole truth; it is rather that the peo- 
ple, as a people, demand the means of obtaining so much of 
the world’s knowledge as it deems worth getting for any 
purpose of general interest or importance. 

As with other institutions, the first desire is moderate and 
limited to that which appears immediately necessary, but 
with increasing knowledge comes an increasing demand. 
The means are extended and modified by the increasing 
need, and popular education is limited by the same con- 
ditions that apply in the case’ of other institutions, and by 
those only. So long as an institution contributes to the 
general good, and makes a return to the whole people in 
the shape of increased advantage, power, and freedom, its 
existence is to be justified. It must occasion an actual gain 
to the people—and the people will by their act ultimately 


The Western. 

decide whether or not its support is considered a profitable 


The High School, like all other institutions, 

must be tried by this standard. 

In considering its relation to the people, we notice that it 
sustains this relation in a twofold manner: First, directly 
in its immediate effect upon the public; and, second, in its 
effect upon the system of which it is a part. 

Education, while in itself an object worthy of the most 
earnest desire, and productive of the fullest returns of intel- 
ligence and culture, is also the means of obtaining other 
desirable results; and it is in this light that it is usuaily 


‘* What is the practical use of this or that form 

of knowledge?’’ ‘* How can it be applied in procuring the 
necessities of life, or in bettering the condition of the indi- 
vidual in his relations to trade, to politics, or to society ?’’ 
It is not enough to point to the advancing mental refine- 
ment, for, while the advantage of this may be in a vague 
way allowed, the question as to practical use is insisted upon, 
and must be answered. Of what practical use, then, to 
the people is the High School? The education it im- 
parts is for the immediate benefit of a comparative few, and 
we wish to know wherein is to be found the effect upon the 
public at large which is of such a character as to justify 
the expense of continuing it. 

The High School occupies a position midway between the 
Grammar Schools and the University. In it the pupil, 
after having reached a certain degree of proficiency in 
studies that are mainly technical, now turns his attention to 
culture studies. In the technical sfudies his methods of 
thought, and the thoughts themselves, have been prescribed 
for him, but in the culture studies he learns to combine the 
material which he has been slowly acquiring, and his mind 
here begins a free and spontaneous activity. The Grammar 
School has furnished the implements of thought, by whose 
use education is to be attained. Reading, writing, and 

arithmetic, and for the most part geography and gram- 

ted keg 

Pi Snare eal 

Relation of High School to School System. 49 

mar, are but the means which render education possible. 
In the education which succeeds the Grammar School 
course these means are applied to the acquisition of ideas 
in the various domains of human thought and effort. The 
pupil is introduced to these different -forms of culture ; he 
is made acquainted with the nature of the world in which 
he lives, by studying its various sciences and arts, and its 
history, which together form the substance of its civiliza- 
tion ; and, while it. cannot be expected that he should obtain 
a complete or exhaustive knowledge of them, yet it is 
thorough enough to give him a clear idea of their general 
nature, and full enough to satisfy any but special or pro- 
fessional needs. 

Through the culture studies the mind is not only enriched 
by new ideas, but is stimulated to free activity in their use 
and application. The pupil learns to recognize the relation 
of the various complex elements of civilized society which 
in the practical world have been blended into harmony ; he 
is convinced of their necessity to him, and of his relation to 
them. His preference for some particular vocation is 
formed from a more rational basis than was possible before, 
and he has been shown the various directions through which 
he must guide his efforts if he would reach a higher and 
fuller culture. The alternative of continuing his studies 
through the University or in private life is presented to 
him, and the training of the High School course has made 
the latter possible to him. 

This possibility is open to the entire public, since the 
High School is a part of the free educational system, and 
thus the institution exists as means by which the people 
may attain, in a general form, the culture of the age. 

But the majority of pupils in our public schools, owing 
to the poverty of their parents, do not and can not reach 
the High School ; comparatively few avail themselves of its 
advantages. Yet the very fact that a free High School 
exists as a possible means by which any may hope to raise 

Vol. 4, No. 1—4 

50 The Western. 

himself out of his present condition, even if very few, 
indeed, should avail themselves of it, would justify its main- 
tenance. Its abolition would be a long step toward the 
fixing of caste distinctions, by making the higher education 
so expensive that the poor could not afford it. Thus their 
present condition would be secured to them as their 
heritage, and the freedom of all citizens to aspire to the 
higher places in society —a freedom so cherished by even 
the lowest — would be seriously affected. If the rudiments 
of education were still allowed them, it would be separated 
from its object, which is education itself; they would be 
more and more exclusively confined to the practical or 
technical studies; the brains would be cultivated only to 
render the fingers more skillful in serving the interests of 
capital. This is not what the people need; but their idea 
of freedom demands that, since all men are to be regarded 
free and equal by nature, all shall be offered the means 
to assert and maintain this principle of equality. It is the 
duty of society, or rather of the people who prescribe duties, 
to demand that every facility shall be offered them in their 
struggle to better their condition; and a free educational 
system, which shall suffice to carry the ignorant mind out 
of its indifference and stolidity to a free and healthy 
activity, which shall not only furnish it with the necessary 
implements, but shall also give it the material of thought 
and culture, is needed and has been established, for its need 
constitutes the right of its establishment. 

The Common School education keeps always in view the 
course in the High School. It is true that all are not 
expected to go on beyond the Grammar School course, yet 
this course is arranged, not merely to meet demands of 
business needs, but also with the idea that it is preliminary 
to the advanced course. This steady reference to a higher 
education is of the greatest advantage to all those who 
come under its influence, for, by constantly directing their 
attention to that which lies ahead, it excites in them an 

Relation of High School to School System. 51 

aspiration which is not lost even by those who leave the 
schools early, but remains with them a constant suggestion 
of the possibility that they, too, may be able to persevere 
and supply that which misfortune has decreed them. 

Were the High School removed from the system, and the 
schools for the people managed so as to secure the best 
practical education (meaning, by practical, that which is 
applicable to business needs), this reference to the higher 
education would be lost. Primary schools would be estab- 
lished for the benefit of the more fortunate classes, since 
the common schools would no longer serve as preparatory 
for the higher schools. Thus they become distinguished as 
schools for the poor, and, since those who could afford it 
would certainly prefer a different education for their chil- 
dren, fashion, so strong a motive in human nature, would 
soon teach the poor themselves to despise their schools, in 
imitation of their social superiors, and, rather than send to 
them, would attempt the sacrifice which they could not 
afford, to partake of the more fashionable education. For 
the truth of this we need not appeal to the imagination. A 
little reflection upon the history of public schools will en- 
able us to remember how lowly was their origin, how slowly 
they grew into notice, how they were called ragged schools 
and charity schools, and how reluctantly the people who 
were well-to-do gave them their patronage. Now public 
education, within the limits it has prescribed for itself, is 
not surpassed in thoroughness or in quality by any private 
education, and all classes of society participate in its advan- 
tages. The common education of all classes tends to build 
up and strengthen the harmony of feeling, the sympathy, and 
the recognition of a common equality of rights, so essential 
to a free government ; the rich and poor alike learn to inter- 
est themselves in each other, and to recognize their equality 
on the common ground of manliness. 

If we help to create class distinctions by permitting sep- 
arate educational systems for rich and poor to arise among 

52 The Western. 

us—systems whose purposes being different must differ 
also in their nature and methods—we do what lies in our 
power to maintain a division in the people. Those who 
receive the higher education will enter the world without 
sympathy, for the education of the masses and the poor 
will entertain few feelings of good will towards those whom 
they have learned to regard only with envy. We should 
consider the common education of all classes one of the 
chief advantages of our system, and should take every care 
to increase the fraternal feeling which this is intended to 
foster. In our early history, community of interest and 
community of danger built up among our people that feel- 
ing of brotherhood out of which sprang American equality 
and freedom. Although there were always differences of 
station, yet these differences were not great enough to sep- 
arate very widely the extremes of society. The necessity 
for the united efforts of all brought them in contact, and 
the result was highly beneficial. This is to this day the 
condition of affairs on our frontiers and in thinly-settled 
communities, but, in the centers of population, where wealth 
and division of labor has created «a division of interest, we 
have lost, in a great degree, this personal contact, and an 
estrangement is the result. 

It is greatly to be dreaded lest the extremes of society 
should agree, each for their own reasons, to promote this 
estrangement, and, when we observe on the one side rep- 
resentatives of the rich urging that popular education be 
restricted to the rudimentary branches, to the exclusion of 
the higher education, and the poor demanding that the 
money hitherto used in maintaining the High Schools be 
appropriated to the Common Schools for the alleged purpose 
of providing a more practical education, there seems to us 
to be sufficient ground to fear lest this is but the symptom 
of a dangerous hostility of factions in the nation. 

Education is an element of strength in the people, and 
we must not measure the effect of the High School simply 

Relation of High School to School System. 53 

by the number of those who enter it. We must not limit 
this effect to themselves, but must remember that these go 
out into the community and become living factors there, 
centers of influence, more or less conspicuous, according to 
their ability and their surroundings. An educated man is 
all the more noticeable when surrounded by ignorant men, 
and his influence takes a wider range in proportion to his 
superiority over his fellows. Thus the education of a few 
is indirectly the education of many ; and a poet or a prophet 
might discern for us the circles of light widening and bright- 
ening through the future. 

If, then, it is essential to successful government that the 
governing power should be intelligent and wise, that it 
should be endowed with a culture sufficiently liberal to 
recognize the diversity of interests in the community, and 
to guard each impartially from the encroachments of the 
other, how suicidal would be the folly of restricting those 
who hold in their hands the control of the government to 
the merely technical education necessary for their daily 
labor. For, while it is of the first importance that the indi- 
vidual should be brought to see his relation to the various 
institutions about him, since he is subject to them and must 
live under them, it is no less necessary that he should recog- 
nize that he stands related to them in another manner also— 
in a certain sense, as their creator—and he should be fitted, 
as far as it is possible for society to make him fit, to under- 
stand the importance of this relation and the responsibility 
attending it. 

Through culture studies the individual first reaches the 
position of regarding the various relations of men to one 
another and to himself, in the complex web of social life— 
the various phases of human effort, as shown in the sciences 
and arts, as demonstrated by history and politics, appear in 
something like their full and true meaning. Were these left 
to be learned in actual life, only the immediately practical 
side would be noticed, and the rest ignored. In practical 

54 The Western. 

life, as in the technical studies, one recognizes chiefly his 
subordination. In culture studies, and in the practical life 
which is the outcome of culture and thoughtful purpose, he 
sees his own creative energy. With us the educational 
problem is different from that of any other nation, for we, 
the people, deal directly with ourselves, and are, therefore, 
led by what we believe to be our highest interests. We do 
not intend to be misled by the mere appearance of good, or 
by the partial interest of a particular class, but to strive for 
that which seems to be for the good of all, so that with the 
least possible coercion—since we must respect the rights of 
all—and with as light a burden of taxation as will reach the 
determined end, we press our purpose resolutely, feeling that 
to solve the problem of self-government we have need of 
all the intelligence and knowledge of which we are capable. 

Thus we feel assured that when there is a sufficient num- 
ber of pupils desirous of going on with their studies beyond 
the Grammar School course to form an advanced school, 
then we are justified in giving them this opportunity, in the 
conviction that the whole people will reap the benefit of 
their increased intelligence. The problem of self-govern- 
ment is a long and intricate one. It involves such a variety 
of conditions that we have need of all possible clearness and 
care to combine them. And, if the people themselves are 
to perform this labor, they must be allowed every advantage 
in cultivating and securing directive intelligence, else we 
shall have to decide between the aristocracy and the com- 
mune. The poorer classes will follow the rich so long as 
they can be made to believe in them, and after that will 
come the reaction. 

The relation of the High School to the Grammar Schoot 
has been suggested in the statement that the studies in the 
latter were in certain respects preparatory to those in the 
former, and directed more or less with this reference. Thus 
the High School gives a definite unity to the school system, 
and its influence is exerted indirectly upon each pupil in the 

Relation of, High School to School System. 55 

lower schools, for each grade is determined by the one just 
in advance, and in turn determines the one below. Were 
it possible to obtain reliable daa, it would be interesting 
to learn just what expense is saved by the extra stimulus 
upon the scholars, and the consequent shortening of the 
course, which results from presenting to the minds of the 
pupils this definite object—the reward of an advanced edu- 
cation to such as have the fitness for it. This argument has 
been so often presented that we will not enlarge upon it. 

The use of the High School as a means to test the work of 
the lower schools is a feature not to be left out of account, 
and here there is offered the best of opportunities to form 
accurate and suggestive opinions in regard to the character 
and value of the work done in the different schools. 

We all know that various tests are now in use—written ex- 
aminations, competitive exhibitions, as of drawing, writing, 
and the like—but we also know how uncertain and inconclu- 
sive these are as indicating the value of the work actually done 
—how many accidents may determine the results, and how 
many teachers, when they feel that they are to be judged 
by the results of an hour’s written work, are impelled to 
adopt measures to prepare their pupils for this particular 
effort. No doubt all this is necessary, and, if judiciously 
managed, is productive of much good ; but usually its effect. 
is injurious to no slight degree, as it impels both teacher 
and scholar to labor for special and transient results, and 
not for the fixed and abiding effect of the work upon the 
child’s character and life. When we look for the results of 
our work to be embodied in this true and permanent form, 
we are working with a valid purpose, and questions of formal 
order and percentage on examinations, while losing none of 
their value, merge into the higher questions regarding the 
practical outcome of our work. 

The High School is a standing test of the work done in 
the lower schools, and one of which much valuable use 

56 The Western. 

could be made, for it is not only the object toward which 
the lower education is directed, but is the evidence of the 
value and thoroughness of that work; it not only repre- 
sents the higher education, and stands as the reward to the 
diligent pupil, but in a more important, because a more 
effective, relation—it is the regulator of the work of the 
lower schools, and the test of their efficiency. There can 
be no doubt that, when the preliminary work is thoroughly 
and honestly accomplished, the pupil will be the better able 
to undertake the more advanced studies; and it often hap- 
pens that we find some have succeeded well with examina- 
tions and have failed in their subsequent work; and the 
contrary is none the less true—many fail in examinations 
who succeed well in their work. Indeed, so frequently has 
this been noticed that many have seriously suggested that 
the recommendation for promoting, by the principal, be 
substituted for the examination per cent., and this would 
possibly be sufficient, provided, only, that there existed a fair 
means of judging his ability to decide such matters, as well 
as a check to his decisions. The average work done in the 
High Schools by the former pupils of the Grammar Schools 
could be taken separately, and the comparison of the dif- 
ferent schools be made on the basis of the average ability 
of their graduates to assume higher duties and undertake 
more difficult studies. Thus ‘* Educating for the High 
School,’’ an expression which has, for some cause, acquired 
a tinge of reproach, would come to have a higher and better 
significance—not that of ‘* cramming’’ for examination per 
cents., but of rendering the pupils more competent to as- 
sume the advanced work—their competency to be judged 
by the results of that work when it is actually done. 

Nor must it be supposed that the effect of all this would 
be confined to those who enter the High School; on the 
contrary, it would be fairly distributed among all the pupils 
of the lower grades, for the effort to devise methods of 
securing the improvement of the few who graduate would 

Marshall’s Head of Christ. 57 

be made a part of the system, and all would come under its 
influence. And, since the best results are to be obtained from 
the best material, the lower classes would be stimulated to 
produce this material. At present the examination per 
cent. is the principal test of instruction, as formal order is 
of school government. “While both of these are valuable 
and should not be disregarded, it must not be forgotten that 
they are not the objects of education, though we sometimes 
act as if we thought they were. Indeed, they are some- 
times very questionable criteria; but the increased ability 
of the pupil to perform the work demanded of him, and to 
regulate his conduct, is not only the true test, but is at the 
same time the purpose and result of education. 

B. V. B. Dixon. 


It must be admitted that a painter who, in these days, 
paints a head of Christ, makes his appeal to a small and 
critical public rather than to a sympathetic multitude. The 
time is gone by when religious emotions can be deeply 
moved by pictures of saints and martyrs, with their tradi- 
tional insignia. Our feelings do not respond to the old 
touch which woke the sense of reverence and impulse to 
piety, which the religious artists were sure of when they 
painted the Holy Family and the Flight into Egypt in end- 
less variations. And it is especially true that religious 
paintings have never had the vitality and persuasive force 
among Northern races that they had in the South. In Italy 
the transition from mythological to christian art was a 
gracious blending of the old and new ; a change of name and 
symbol sometimes preceding a change of significance, so that 
there was no violent break between the worship of Venus 
and Cupid and that of the Virgin and Child. In general, 
the art of Southern peoples has addressed itself to the eye ; 

58 The Western. 

truth has taken shape to the sense of sight in form and 
color ; they loved their ideal incarnate in definite outline, 
made visible in color. Northern races love the mysterious. 
and unseen ; its art appeals to the subtler sense of hearing, 
in music and poetry, and feels the inadequacy of form and 
color to realize its ideals. So Diirer, and the art of the 
middle ages in general, had recourse to symbolism, where 
their command of other resources of art seemed insufficient 
to carry the weight of the truths they wished to teach, and 
it lost itself in fantastic riddles, to which we no longer 
possess the key. 

In recent times religion has become more or less academic 
or conventional, and has lost its hold on the popular sym- 
pathy in proportion. <A painter who nowadays attempts a 
‘Head of Christ’’ has, therefore, a twofold difficulty to 
overcome: in the first place, the natural obstacle of his own 
modern consciousness, which prevents the satisfactory reali- 
zation of his ideal Christ in the form of painting; and, in 
the second place, the want of comprehension which he will 
naturally meet in a public which does not care for his sub- 
ject in pictures. For good or for evil, we are a critical 
generation ; we know more than the fervid folk who accepted 
their saints in the costume with which they were familiar 
without a question as to anachronism or inaccuracy, or,. 
indeed, any suspicion that there was a necessity for historical 
truth in the dress of a martyr. We do not seem to have 
that old simplicity and reverence which accepts the thing for 
the thing signified—not because the age is less reverent, but, 
probably, because it is less naive. An artist of our time, 
then, must be accurate as well as devotional. When due 
deference has been paid to our knowledge of facts, and our 
demand for historical truth in the ‘‘ accessories’’ has been 
scrupulously complied with, still it must be confessed that. 
we respond with a somewhat cold approval to the best that 
we get in modern religious art. 

This long preface was suggested on having been invited to 

Marshall’s Head of Christ. 59 

see a Head of Christ, by Mr. Marshall, a New York artist. 
It was with a negative, critical, nineteenth-century spirit 
that we stood before it. Fortunately our questions, spoken 
and unspoken, were answered by Mr. Marshall himself, 
whose interesting conversation about his picture it is a 
pleasure to recall. It is safe to say that no one ever found 
his ideal satisfied in any of the Christ heads of old masters, 
but, instead of enjoying them as beautiful but inadequate 
conceptions, embodying partial phases of: his character, 
Mr. Marshall’s protest has gone farther, and he has under- 
taken to put in the human form what he thinks Christ 
represents to humanity. Mr. Marshall’s previous work 
has well prepared him for the task. As an engraver and 
painter he is well acquainted with the means and resources 
of his art ; his portraits of Washington and Lincoln are well 
known as master-pieces of the kind of portraiture which 
interprets character, while faithfully rendering the physical 
facts of feature and expression. We have no authentic por- 
trait of Christ, so that the artist is free on that side to 
make the physical facts express the ideal character, in the 
faith that ‘‘of the soul the body form doth take, for soul 
is form and doth the body make.’’ Mr. Marshall said: «I 
have been thinking and working on this picture for five years. 
I always thought that the old masters gave too much promi- 
nence to one view of the character of Christ. They repre- 
sent him, almost invariably, as meek and lowly, the ‘ good 
shepherd,’ full of gentleness and love ; the man of sorrows, 
and acquainted with grief. These,’’ he said, ‘* are true, but 
by no means all, of the phases of his life. There should 
be strength as well as humility in the face of one ‘who 
took upon himself the sins of the world.’ And then, 
considering him merely as a great historical personage, a 
great reformer, he must have been a hero as well as a saint ; 
in short, he must have been as strong and wise as he was 

The picture, as we saw it, was hung alone in a large hall, 

60 The Western. 

surrounded by dark-crimson hangings, which concentrated 
the light. The first impression is certainly a strong one ; 
we are startled out of our moderate expectations by the first 
sense of greatness and power which it gives us. The pic- 
ture is of heroic size, drawn in black crayon, a Jupiter-like 
head set on the most regal shoulders. The look of pride 
and energy is altogether at variance with our conventional- 
ized ideas. The face is Jewish, or at least Oriental, in 
type; around the shoulders is draped a mantle, which, Mr. 
Marshall tells us, is a genuine Bedouin mantle, such as were 
worn at the time He lived. This little bit of ‘* historical 
accuracy ’’ is in harmony with the whole picture, and neither 
attracts nor disturbs our attention. The arrangement of the 
hair and beard is beautiful, without suggesting the fashion 
of any time or place ; the beard shades and strengthens the 
face, without concealing any feature. The face expresses 
a pride so unimpeachable, and the whole figure suggests 
strength so unassailable, that we might, perhaps, miss the 
gentler qualities were it not for the tenderness of the mouth 
and eyes. This combination has rarely been attempted—it 
is certainly a triumph to have suggested it—and Mr. Mar- 
shall’s realization is a completer Man and a more human 
God than any we have seen. With the admission that any 
such attempt must, from its nature, fail because it touches 
on the very limits of art, we gladly record the opinion of 
so many thoughtful men and skillful artists that this new 
Head of Christ is a great work, both in conception and in 
finish. The artist is already at work engraving it, and also 
expects to reproduce it in color. The photographs—cabinet 
size—are probably ready for sale, and give an excellent idea 
of the picture, which, being in black and white, loses little 
in the photograph. 
E. S. Morean. 






The Persian garlands please me not, 
Nor chaplets tied with linden-rind ; 

Then ask no more where dwells the rose, 
In wreaths around the head to bind. 

Add naught to simple myrtle leaves, 
Nor roses in the hair entwine; 

The myrtle crown becomes thee well, 
And suits me, quaffing ’neath the vine. 

Thou holdest still thy virgin flower 
So close it hath no light of love, 

As though against it men were leagued, 
And all the heavenly powers above: 
But know that tender flower shall fade, 

And, on the sad and lonely shore 
Where break the silent waves of death, 
We shall be dust, and love no more. 



There Danger dwells where dwells not Truth; 
Nor gold, nor gems, nor rosy youth 

Shall friendly be, when she hath fled; 

The soul that knows her not is dead. 

The Western. 


A book have I written, 

Not mine, but the Book of the World; 
For her sake, 

And the sake of her God, 

Have I written these things. 

The Soul once lifted from sin, 
Knowing goodness, 

Shall fall nevermore ; 

She shall triumph in truth, 

Having walked through the world, 
And, dying, shall live. 


As longs the star for night, 
The flower for sun, 

So longs my soul for Thee, 
O Holy One. 


In the spring of 1865 I attended a series of rehearsals 
of the St. Louis Philharmonic Society, then under the con- 
ductorship of the distinguished leader and composer, Sobo- 

The programme was, as usual, made up of a number of 
choice selections, but it had one complete work of art— 
Mendelssohn’s ‘‘ Lobgesang,’’ or Hymn of Praise. In gen- 
eral, we are told that an entire work is ‘‘ too heavy’’ for 
the audience. 

“Tf you’ve a piece, why just in pieces give it; 
A hash, a stew, will bring success —believe it! 

What use a Whole compactly to present? 
Your hearers pick and pluck as soon as they receive it 


Mendelssohn’s ‘*Song of Praise.”’ 63 

At least this is what Goethe’s theater-manager tells us in 
the prelude to ‘‘ Faust.’’ There is too much truth in the 
sarcasm — sufficient, indeed, for Edgar Poe to found on 
it a theory of poetry. He claims that the freshness and 
vigor of attention of the reader will last long enough to 
read, say, a hundred lines. After that the attention flags. 
Hence a long poem, the ‘‘ Paradise Lost’? or Homer’s 
‘‘Tliad,’’ for example, the reader is obliged to read by a 
series of breaks—a circumstance which makes the long 
poem equivalent to a series of short poems. Hence the 
truly greatest poem should be about the length of — Poe’s 

But in this fine theory one important element has been 
forgotten—the memory. In a long poem or novel we 
gradually get acquainted with the persons and scenery, and 
at each successive page our interest heightens. Just as we 
are more interested in the fate of relatives and old friends, 
whose career is known to us for many years, so our 
interest in the persons of the Nibelungen Lied, for ex- 
ample, increases as we proceed, until it culminates in that 
awful tragedy at the end. It is the same with the ‘*Iliad.’’ 
The interest excited at the climax is incomparably more 
intense than that aroused by any short poem. Contrast the 
interest excited by a mere anecdote with that excited by 
Walter Scott’s ** Ivanhoe,’’ or ** Woodstock.’’ 

Under this pretense of avoiding what is ** too heavy ’”’ 
for a popular audience, we are always served with small 
sections of the works of genius. Just as if the directors 
of an art gallery, fearing that whole works of art like the 
‘* Transfiguration ’’ of Raphael, or the ‘* Apostles’’ of 
Thorwaldsen, would be ‘* too heavy ’’ for the people, should 
serve up small sketches; here a copy of the nose of a 
Madonna, there the foot of Christ, etc. Of course such 
things have their place, and ought, perhaps, to constitute 
the greater portion of the programme. But it seems rea- 

64 The Western. 

sonable that at least one entire work of art should be pro- 
duced at every concert. 

Each part of a work of art is made with reference to the 
rest, and, taken by itself, is incomplete, and cannot be 
adjudged beautiful any more than a nose or mouth without 
taking into consideration the face to which it belongs. 

The Song of Praise is one of the closest unities as a work 
of art, and the parts follow each other with almost a logical 
sequence. After a few rehearsals of the piece one begins 
to feel the spirit of the Whole, and the song unfolds into 
a great drama whose content is the Christian Religion. 

Doubtless a work of art may have many interpretations, 
differing in degrees of comprehensiveness, but all having 
essentially the same general import. The entire work is a 
symbol, and there are corresponding symbols—an indefinite 
number of them—into which the work may be translated. 

In the following analysis and interpretation of the work 
of Mendelssohn in question, I have confined myself to indi- 
cating the essential relations of the parts to the whole, and 
especially to explaining the sequence of the pieces by the 
unfolding of the general thought. 

The introduction, or ‘* symphonie,’’ by the orchestra 
depicts the trials and tribulations of the spirit which lead 
it to praise the Lord, thus presenting, in a shadowy, abstract 
form, the basis of the feeling which leads to the song of 
praise in the first chorus: 


* All men, all things that have life and breath, sing to the Lord. Hallelujah! 
Praise the Lord with lute and harp in joyful song. Extol Him, and let all 
flesh magnify His might and His glory. ” 

The reasons for the praise are not stated in the chorus ; 
they are ouly flitting about the soul in the indistinct form 
suggested by the symphony. During the chorus they gradu- 
ally fade away, and resolve into a form of self-reflection ; the 
spirit is impatient at its own lack of enthusiasm, and the 
chorus becomes a soprano solo: 

Mendelssohn’s ** Song of Praise.’’ 65 

“Praise thou the Lord, O my spirit, and my inmost soul praise His great 
loving kindness. 

Praise thou the Lord, O my spirit, and forget thou not all His benefits.” 

In this it exhorts itself to praise, and dwells on the sub- 
ject of forgetfulness, which it perceives itself liable to. It 
alludes to the ‘*benefits’’ and ‘loving kindness’’ of the 
Lord, but does not describe them. The female semi-chorus 
participates. The danger of wandering from the Lord is 
felt and described. He is the Rock of Ages, and the indi- 
vidual is utterly essenceless when not firmly standing on this 
rock ; and stands thus firmly only through implicit trust 
in Him. | 

In this kind of music the male chorus represents the trust 
in the Lord, while the soprano represents the subjectivity, 
or the mere individual concern for itself. The Finite is the 
human element, thus isolated; while the Infinite is the 
unity of the soul with God, through the religious faith por- 
trayed by the male chorus. This exhortation, addressed to 
its own spirit, and its reference to the ‘‘ loving kindness,’’ 

leads to the tenor solo, in which we have the special acts of 
kindness vividly brought before us: 

“Sing ye praise, all ye redeemed of the Lord; redeemed from the hand of the 
foe, from your distresses, from deep affliction; who sat in the shadow of 
death and darkness. All ye that cry in trouble unto the Lord, sing ye 
praise, give ye thanks, proclaim aloud His goodness. 

‘“‘He counteth all your sorrows in the time of need. He comforts the bereaved 

with His regard. Sing ye praise, give ye thanks, proclaim aloud His 

The development of the motives of the praise to the Lord 
has led it to contemplate the state of the afflicted, and to 
recount the sympathy of the Lord for the bereaved. Sym- 
pathy sings tenor (while the suffering one naturally ex- 
presses itself in soprano), and the sorrows of those ‘* who 
sit in the shadow of death’’ are tenderly dwelt upon. 
And, when the consolation is added, ‘* He counteth all your 
sorrows in the time of need,’’ the chorus joins: 

Vol. 4, No. 1-6 

66 The Western. 

«« All ye that cried unto the Lord in distress and deep affliction! He counteth 
all your sorrows in the time of need.” 

It is now a different chorus from the one which opened 
the piece. It is subdued by sympathy, and its tone is low- 
ered and tender, but it surpasses the former in earnestness. 
The contemplation of this redeeming sympathy leads the 
spirit back to its own experience, which takes form in a 
duet, first and second soprano: 

“‘I waited for the Lord, He inclined unto me, He heard my complaint; O, 
blessed are they that hope and trust in the Lord.” 

It relates the joy it felt when the Lord listened to its 
complaint. The chorus comes in with approval and encour- 
agement: **O, blessed are they,’’ etc. What the ‘*com- 
plaint’’ was is not stated. This must be done, however. 
We must have that state of despair itself portrayed. The 
soprano cannot do it, for she can only tell of the immedi- 
ate, of the subjective feeling, but is inadequate to paint the 
surroundings, the gloom and utter externality of the night 
of the soul, and hence we have a fenor solo: 

“<The sorrows of death had closed all around me and hell’s dark terrors had 
got hold upon me, with trouble and deep heaviness; but said the Lord, 
‘Come, arise from the dead, and awake thou that sleepest ; I bring thee 

*¢ We called through the darkness, ‘ Watchman, will the night soon pass?’ The 
watchman only said, ‘Though the morning will come, the night will 
come also.’ Ask ye, inquire ye, ask if ye will, inquire ye, return again, 
ask, ‘ Watchman, will the night soon pass?’ ”’ 

This is the nadir of the piece; so completely external 
and finite, so dark and devoid of universality, is this phase 
of the spirit, that the chorus does not venture to say a 
word. The spirit, completely astray from the ‘‘ Rock of 
Ages,’’ does not see a vestige of hope. This lack of sub- 
stantiality is portrayed in a masterly manner. The tenor 
wavers about, having lost his basis, and gropes in the dark- 
ness. The watchman can afford no aid. Suddenly a gleam 
of divine light shoots through the darkness, and the beauti- 
ful solo and chorus follows : 

Mendelssohn’s **Song of Praise.’’ 67 

“The night is departing, the day is approaching. Therefore, let us cast off 
the works of darkness, and let us gird on the armor of light. The day 
is approaching, the night is departing.” 

The soprano solo expresses the first thrill of the soul on 
the heights, when the gleam of divine light illumines it. 
The chorus, below, on a broader level, soon sees the light, 
and joins. The exultation of the soul makes its pinions 
strong, so that it now makes lofty flights and finds its 
cadenza on the higher octave. This is a grand stroke of 
art, and paints in the happiest manner the exaltation of 
spirit, now that it has found the light. The male chorus 
meanwhile portrays the ‘* Rock of Ages,’’ which appears viv- 
idly near. Just before, we could not feel its presence ; the 
clouds and the dark tempest of the soul completely obscured 
it. Now it is revealed in its infinitude, and, as the sun of 
righteousness ascends the sky, all burst out into a choral 
hymn of thanksgiving : 

‘Let all men praise the Lord, 
In worship lowly bending ; 
On His most Holy Word, 
Redeemed from woe, depending. 
He gracious is, and just; 
From childhood us doth lead ; 
On Him we place our trust 
And hope, in time of need. 

“Glory and praise to God, 

The Father, Son, be given, 
And to the Holy Ghost, 

On high enthroned in Heaven. 
Praise to the three-one God, 

With powerful arm and strong, 
He changeth night to day; 

Praise Him with grateful song.” 

After this choral it only remains to portray the practical 
effect of this illumination of the soul. This is done by the 
duet and final chorus ; the former exhibits the new resolu- 
tions which the spirit makes, and shows that, the individual 
is regenerated : 

68 The Western. 

“ My song shall always be Thy mercy, singing Thy praise, Thou only God; my 
tongue ever speak the goodness Thou hast done unto me. 

“TI wandered in the night and foulest darkness, and mine enemies stood 
threatening around; yet called I upon the name of the Lord, and He 
redeemed me with watchful goodness.” 

In and through the darkness of the shadow of death is 
the individual led to the renunciation of self and to relig- 
ion ; and the divine light makes him new. Finally, we see 
this effect of religion upon the individual widen out and 
regenerate the whole earth in the chorus: 

“Ye nations, offer to the Lord glory and might. 
Ye monarchs, offer to the Lord glory and might. 
Thou heaven, offer to the Lord glory and might. 
O give thanks to the Lord, praise Him, all ye people, and ever praise His 
holy name. 
Sing ye the Lord, and ever praise His holy name. 
All that has life and breath, sing to the Lord.” 

Thus, at the close, after having been led through the 
complete mediation of the idea of the piece, we return to 
the beginning, and close with ‘‘ All that has life and 

breath, sing to the Lord’’—the words with which we 
begun. But at first the expression of the chorus was com- 
paratively feeble by reason of its lack of motives; now, 
however, a divine enthusiasm has seized all, and the uni- 
verse seems to join. in this Song of Praise. 

Wma. T. Harris. 



In a lonely land, 
Somber and dread, 
A tall cliff reared 
Its giant head. 

The Clif’. 

It was brown and bare, 
But the sunrise glow 

Shone from its top 
Like silver snow. 

Firm-rooted it was; 
The earthquake’s shock, 
Or the strong wind’s might, 
Moved not the rock. 

It seemed as old 
As the primal earth ; 
No mind could tell 
The date of its birth. 

A million storms 

Had thundered in vain; 
It seemed to laugh 

At the elements’ strain. 

The fierce sea boiled 
Around its base — 

But no change came over 
Its granite face. 

The stars at night 
Looked down in dread, 
And dreamed it should be 
When they were dead. 

The midsummer sun 
Begirt it with flame ; 

It stood not more calm 
When the winter came. 

But a soft breeze blew, 
And it bore a flower 
Plucked from the peace 
Of a lady’s bower. 

Softer than light, 
Softer than air, 

It touched the cliff 
With the blossom fair. 

And the mighty rock 
Was shattered apart 

From glittering top 
To fathomless heart ! 

The Western. 


Among all the wonders which interest and astonish the 
art student there is no peculiarity more striking than the 
extraordinary difference between the great masters in art. 
Their modes of thought, coloring, and manipulation are so 
totally unlike that the amateur is completely puzzled. And 
even though he follows in the beaten track, and gets his 
opinion from hackneyed authorities, he will require years of 
careful investigation before coming to a discriminating con- 

There is no school, however peculiar, from which some- 
thing may not be learned, and no master who does not 
exemplify, in his work, some great truth. 

The attention of the art student is directed to the works 
of Michael Angelo and Raphael, the two great masters in 
the Italian school, and sovereigns in two distinct empires— 
reality and imagination—in which their claims have been 
acknowledged, and have stood the test through centuries of 
criticism. They are referred to as important examples in 
their modes of study and sources of instruction, and by 
what widely different means each arrived at his own concep- 

Michael Angelo, it is said, constructed his forms from the 
celebrated antique fragment known as the Torso, which, 
without doubt, is true, but it nevertheless could have served 
him only as a hint. Even the slightest suggestion, how- 
ever, is sufficient to a man of genius, who stands in need, 
no less than others, of a starting point. Asa boy his whole 
nature became imbued with the principles embodied in this 
fragmentary relic of the past, and almost his first effort in 
sculpture was to copy its mutilated proportions. There was 
something in it which he seems to have felt as of a kindred 
nature to the unembodied forms in his own mind, and he 

Old and New Masters. 71 

pondered over it until, in his maturity, he mastered the 
spell of its author. Then emerged into being that gigantic 
race of the Sistine Chapel—giants in mind no less than in 
body—which appear to have inhabited another world, and 
to have descended to our own planet to contrast themselves 
with its pigmies. His prophets and sibyls seem to carry 
in their persons the commanding evidence of their own 
mission. In form and in action they appear like beings of 
a higher sphere. Human events could not move them ; the 
fall of empires, the extinction of nations, would be as 
naught. They seem as if the awful secrets of the future 
had overwhelmed all their sympathies. 

With many critics it seems to have been doubted whether 
Raphael would have ever been great had he never seen the 
works of Michael Angelo. It is certainly true—for it is a 
fact of history—that, after gaining a surreptitious view of 
the Last Judgment, both his form and his style assumed 
a breadth and a grandeur they did not possess before. Yet 
these great artists had comparatively nothing in common — 
a sufficient proof that genius may freely acknowledge its 
obligations to another without self-sacrifice. Both of them 
adopted from others what accorded with his own peculiar 
genius, and, wherever found, the materials thus collected 
entered unto their respective minds as their natural aliment. 

The genius of Michael Angelo seems essentially to have 
been imaginative. It seems rarely to have been excited by 
the objects with which we are daily familiar. Whatever 
subjects he touched upon were treated as if seen through 
an atmosphere of the past. All of his sculpture, and most of 
his painting, present remarkable embodiments of this idea. 

The mind of Raphael was an ever-flowing fountain of 
human sympathies. In all that concerns man, from the 
highest forms of majesty to the humblest condition of 
humanity, he was a master. Even the maimed and mis- 
shapen were ‘ennobled by his pencil. His apostles, his 
philosophers, and even the most ordinary figure he employs, 

72 The Western. 

are all full of humanity, and no one can doubt but that they 
belong to a living and kindred race. 

If any artist can be said to reign over the hearts of the 
people, it is Raphael. Not that he knew better what was in 
the hearts and minds of men than many others, but that he 
better understood how to express those sympathies which 
are universal. In this he had no rival, and the greatest 
masters must bow to him. Where others seemed to have 
derived their qualities from study, and to make that impress 
of laborious effort on the mind, he seemed to have seized 
the sympathetic relations of his groups, as it were, by 
intuition. We know not how, but he touches us and 
inthralls us, and we yield to him as to a living influence. 

Up to the time Ruskin began to give to the world his 
remarkable essays on art, Claude Lorraine was considered 
the greatest landscape painter that ever lived, and his pic- 
tures were thought to be unapproachable by any modern 
artist. "There was a certain hallucination in the minds of 
men about his work which led them to believe that he 
possessed all the excellencies that could belong to the great 
masters. He was lauded for each and every quality that 
could bring about the perfection of landscape painting, and 
it was held to be sacrilegious for any one to gainsay these 
opinions. People spoke his name with bated breath, and it 
was the synonym for all that was beautiful and romantic in 
landscape art. The ‘‘ Skies of Claude’’ became a proverbial 
expression, and no one ever thought to question the dictum. 

But when the first volume of ‘* Modern Painters ’’ dawned 
upon the public the glamour vanished, the idol was broken, 
and people began to think for themselves. The great critic 
taught them to look to nature for their models, and, by 
comparison, find whether the artist’s work was derived from 
the fountain-head of all inspiration, or was only a conglom- 
eration of forms, unnatural and ungraceful. 

Aside from the one quality which Claude possessed in a 
high degree, his pictures were incongruous, badly drawn, 

Old and New Masters. 73 

and badly composed. There was about his work a sunny 
atmosphere which has led so many astray. He reveled in 
sunshine, and nearly all of his compositions are morning 
and evening effects. But he never studied nature, and one 
will find in the ‘* Liber Veritates’’ an unending repetition 
of himself in form and composition. 

Turner, the great English landscape painter, was born at 
the most auspicious moment, for it seemed as if English art 
was waiting for just such a master. He started on his pro- 
fessional career at a time when a few devotees were wan- 
dering in the dark, and were making huge efforts to throw 
off the shackles which a veneration for the past had bound 
upon them. He was the son of a barber, and Claude was 
the son of a pastry cook, so that neither had any advantage 
in point of birth. But Turner was born great, while the 
reputation gained by Claude was achieved by sheer dint of 
labor and mechanical skill. From his earliest boyhood 
‘Turner’s work displayed unmistakable genius. Whatever 
he put his hand to was original, and each new work was a 

Claude was a mannerist, in the broadest sense of the 
word, and went on repeating himself to the day of his 
death. He produced numberless compositions the con- 
templation of which would set the teeth of a dilettante on 
edge. . 

Turner’s occupation fell upon him like a descending man- 
tle, while Claude’s was chosen almost as a makeshift, and 
for a long time he knew not whether he would ever over- 
come the difficulties of mixing colors. 

Turner, from the time he first put pencil to paper, went 
to nature and kept constantly gathering facts, so that his 
resources were marvelous and his pictures miracles of truth- 
ful detail. To secure his subjects he visited nearly every 
remarkable spot in Europe, and he was familiar with every 
ruined tower and abbey in the British Empire. So indus- 
trious was he —such a miser of his moments —that at his 

74 The Western. 

death there were found, of what he had presented to the 
British nation alone, 19,000 sketches, and beside these there 
were thousands of his oil paintings and water colors in the 
hands of collectors. 

Claude’s pictures were nearly all studio compositions, and 
were manufactured like so much marketable ware. He 
gained nothing from travel and nothing from study, and he 
seems never to have dreamed that there was any other way 
to represent nature than through the conventionalisms begot- 
ten in his own brain. 

Turner, early in life, set out to rival the much-lauded 
productions of Claude, and to that end he devoted his life, 
scarcely ever allowing himself an idle moment. Early morn 
and dewy eve saw him at work, carefully studying the intri- 
cate detail of nature, and seizing her transient effects with 
an enthusiasm which surpassed all bounds. He wandered 
far and near ; anon among the glaciers of the Alps, and them 
Italy’s sunny clime found him transferring her skies of gold 
to his precious sketch-book. He was not awed by the 
grandeur of mountain forms, and he rode out the fiercest 
storms at sea, lashed to the mast, that he might grasp the 
subject and paint a picture which should strike terror to the 
soul. He never let slip an opportunity to gather facts, and 
his port-folios were filled with invaluable memoranda, which 
he guarded with the most jealous care. His memory was 
tenacious to that degree that he never forgot a scene he had 
once sketched, and could reproduce it at pleasure, though a 
score of years had passed. No object in nature was too 
small for him to scrutinize, and his transcendent genius 
was able to cope with the sublimest forms. He lived in 
art, moved in art, and art was his God. He was a miser 
in his profession, and seldom, in his long life, gave away a 
sketch ; and often, when he had been persuaded to sell 
a picture, his friends would find him in tears, saying that he 
had lost one of his children. Although he amassed an im- 
meuse fortune by his art, and fully understood the value of 

Old and New Masters. 75 

the slightest sketch by his hand, he nevertheless maintained, 
with the greatest pertinacity, his dignity as an artist, and, 
to the end of his life, labored lovingly and faithfully to make 
each succeeding picture better than the last. Many of his 
pictures he refused to part with at any price, and one of 
them, ‘‘ The Building of Carthage,’’ he thought so much of 
that he wanted to be buried with the canvas wrapped around 
him for a winding-sheet. 

Wilson, Constable, and Gainsborough lived in Turner’s 
day, and ,painted landscapes which came in contact with 
his, and there was more or less rivalry between them. 
Gainsborough achieved his fame as a portrait and figure 
painter, but his landscapes were tender in color and charm- 
ing in composition, though, finally, he drifted into a sort 
of mannerism in his foliage. He was genial and gentle- 
manly, and made a decided impression upon the art taste 
of his day. 

Constable was a good artist, but terribly conceited, and 
was forever talking about himself and his work. He was 
envious, also, and often turned his criticisms into disparage- 
ment; quite unlike Turner, who was calmly contented, 
envied nobody, and never uttered an adverse criticism 
against any artist—young or old. 

Constable itched for fame, and endeavored to gain noto- 
riety by outré methods—such as laying the colors on his 
canvas with the palette-knife—which he carried to such an 
excess that he nearly ruined himself. His best pictures 
were lowland subjects, in which he represented approaching 
storms and wet days. When standing before one of them, 
Fuseli would always call for an umbrella. 

There is a remarkable fact about Constable which seems 
never to have been touched upon by English writers on art, 
but which is a subject of common conversation among the 
living painters of France ; that is, that he was the father of 
the modern French school of landscape painting, of which 
Corot, Rousseau and Millet were the types. 

76 The Western. 

Constable paid a visit to Paris about the year 1814, at a 
time when he was at the height of his power in that fear- 
less execution which was his predominating trait, and left 
behind him three or four pictures, which afterwards found 
their way into the Louvre, where they have remained ever 
since, serving as masterly examples for students. 

Poor Wilson lived and died entirely unappreciated. He 
was the precursor of Turner, but was always painting clas- 
sical subjects, in imitation of Claude and Poussin, and could 
never make an impression on the public. After his death 
his pictures were sought for and realized fair sums, but 
while he lived he was so poor that he would often take a pic- 
ture fresh from the easel and barter it at the ale-house for 
food enough to sustain himself. He realized his situation, 
and often predicted that he would become famous after he 
was dead. 

From these works the young landscapists at the begin- 
ning of the present century took their cue. And from a 
smoothness of finish and conventionality of execution they 
emerged into a broad and vigorous style which eliminated 
all petty detail, and only aimed at the perfection of tonality. 
They generalized nature, as it were, and often went to the 
extreme of painting only their impressions of a scene. 

Corot was the master most admired in this new depart- 
ure, and he was oftentimes vague and indefinite. When 
remonstrated with for his vagueness, he would reply, with 
a shrug of his shoulders, ‘* All nature is vague.’’ It is said 
of him that he painted 200 pictures from the same theme, 
but, of course, infinitely varied. 

But, Corot and Rousseau and Millet being dead, a new 
artist is coming forward, who takes up the burthen of their 
song and strikes a higher and a nobler key. His works 
are not known in this country, but the artists and connois- 
seurs are sounding his praise in France. I refer to Cesar 
de Cocque, who is said to combine in his works all of the 
best qualities of the modern French school. To the most 

Old and New Masters. 77 

marvelous execution he unites a faultless tonality and an 
absolutely perfect knowledge of color. 

Had the English critics, headed by Ruskin, known of the 
influence exerted by Constable’s pictures on the French 
school of landscape painting, they would not have taken so 
much pains to ridicule and vilify that school, for there are 
certainly great qualities in it which the English have never 

The English landscape painters of the last twenty vears 
have gone all wrong from a blind following of the advice 
of Ruskin, who kept constantly reiterating, ‘‘ Go to nature, 
go to nature.’’ And they went literally to work and 
delved like galley-slaves, only to find, at last, that they had 
become perfectly familiar with the infinite detail of nature, 
but had no power to spiritualize her various forms. 

Turner’s resources were inexhaustible, not only because 
he had memorized and stored away such a vast quantity of 
the various phases of nature, but because he had mastered 
all of the principles of art. Each one of his compositions 
was a new departure, and was constructed upon its own 
basis of line, and light, and shade. So accurate was his 
eye, and so exquisite his sense of color, that his pictures 
are marvelous gradations of tone, and for that reason 
engraved so well that it was often asserted that he was at 
his best in simple white and black. No master except 
Raphael ever approached Turner in tonality. 

In his studies from nature he not only gathered the 
grasses and blossoms at his feet, but seized those transitory 
effects which fade away while the eye is resting upon them ; 
and in his compositions, or finished pictures, he embodied 
those elements of art, without which no work can be great. 
Analyze any important work of his and you will find in it 
the elements of intricacy, unity, and repose, and each 
quality so deftly managed that it is concealed by the fine 
air of nature which the subject possesses. His ingenuity 
was boundless, and he was never at a loss in his power to 

78 The Western. 

overcome awkward lines or obtrusive forms. Had he lived 
in the days of the old masters, and had the same influences 
been brought to bear upon his genius, he would have stood 
like a giant among them. 

He proved, in his works, that the landscape painter ranks 
with the greatest artists in those qualities which are the 
essence of all great art— composition and imagination. 

Like all great artists who are successful, he had his 
enemies, and there was a class of inferior men who con- 
tinually vented their petty spites at him and his works. 
But, though their malice wounded him to the quick, he 
bore it all patiently and quietly, having his recompense in 
the admiration of the intellectual and the cultivated, know- 
ing his own strength, and seeing, in the future, his name 
famous before all the world. 



A few statues—broken, for the most part, and blackened 
by time—have been saved from the wreck of ancient Greece, 
and remain to excite the admiration of the world. They 
have been the theme of poetry and of philosophical specu- 
lation. Kings, emperors, and mighty republics have sought 
their possession as the choicest treasures among all the 
riches of the human race, while all mankind esteemed their 
worth to be beyond expression in any terms of mere money 

How were these wonders produced? What were the 
men who made them, and under what sublime inspirations 
did they work? These are the questions that, more than 
any others, have agitated the artistic mind since the renais- 
sance of art; for men have thought that, could the talis- 
man be found, they too might reach the height of Phidias 

Principle of Beauty. 79 

and Praxiteles. The talisman has, in truth, never been lost, 
but men have grown too visionary—and, above all, too 
vain—to use it. It is the humble, faithful, intelligent imi- 
tation of nature; content to know, to love, and to repre- 
sent her best aspects, without vainly seeking in the vision- 
ary phantoms that flit across the human mind for something 
nobler than the works of the Almighty. The highest praise 
the Greek poets and philosophers gave to an artist was to say 
that he had imitated nature with fidelity, and the weight of 
testimony we can find in ancient literature goes to prove 
that the aim of the artists was to attain to such an imitation. 

Surely, for myself, I would rather Socrates should say, or 
Anacreon sing, of me, ‘‘ He has well represented nature,’’ 
than that Ruskin should write, ‘‘ He has painted the light 
that never was on land or sea.’’ When the ancients 
departed from nature they fell into trouble, as the moderns 
do. Phidias once tried to model a head of Olympian Jupi- 
ter from the inspiration he had received from a verse of 
Homer. When he first showed the work in public it met 
with such severe and just criticism that he was driven to 
make great alterations. Raphael, to draw an example from 
modern times, drew his Galatea without a model, relying on 
an ideal of beauty he had conceived, and, as we know, 
Galatea is one of his least meritorious figures. 

The Greeks worked from living models, and faithfully, 
devotedly studied nature; nevertheless, we see in their 
works a perfection of beauty almost never found in nature. 
By what means did they ennoble, while imitating, the 
model? Their works indicate that they were guided by 
fixed and certain principles, and that they were as sure of 
the results they would obtain as a modern machinist is of 
making a perfect engine. Their first principle was one of 
selection, and is well expressed by a saying of Socrates: 
‘* The good alone is beautiful.’’ The good—that is to say, 
whatever is perfectly fitted to discharge the functions allot- 
ted to it by the Creator. When we see a fast runner we 

80 The Western. 

observe that he has beautiful, tapering limbs, fine at the 
joints of ankle and knee, with powerful thighs, and small, 
shapely feet. A strong lifter will have splendid arms, mass- 
ive shoulders, and a well-developed back. Look, again, 
at the beauty of throat and chest inseparable from a great 
singer. I might go on and multiply examples to infinity 
in proof of the rule of selection. One kind of beauty— 
admired, I am sorry to say, in America—the Greeks never 
would admit; I mean the frail, delicate style that smacks 
of consumption, and brings to mind the thought of early 
death. No, that was not fashionable in the days of Phidias. 
Beauty then had need to be hearty, vigorous, and robust. 
Many moderns have well understood the selection of forms, 
but have been unable to combine and harmonize them. 
Aristotle gave a hint of the rules for combination in these 
words: ‘*He who says beauty, says amplitude and order.”’ 
Amplitude means fullness, largeness, plenty, and implies 
simplicity ; for, where a form is broken by a multitude of 
details, the sense of amplitude is lost. Order implies the 
arrangement of the form so that all may be readily under- 
stood by the spectator, and the disposition of the various 
parts in harmony or agreeable contrast with each other. 
The study of proportion was that in which the Greeks 
most excelled, and, by their mastery of it, they were en- 
abled to express that wonderful grace and majesty which 
escapes the greatest moderns. They measured shapely men 
and beautiful women, keeping record of their measurements. 
They especially measured the skeletons of well-formed 
persons, and studied the relative lengths of the bones, until 
the skeleton was to them no longer a thing of horror, but 
the very basis of beautiful form. Wherever the extremities 
of bones came near the surface, as at the various articula- 
tions, they were careful to make it apparent in their stat- 
ues, and the firmness of such parts made a pleasing con- 
trast with the softness of the adjacent muscles. They had 
a notion that the supposed fluids emanating from the vari- 

Principle of Beauty. 81 

ous stars entered the body at these places where the bones 
came near the surface, and so influenced the lives of men. 
So much did they dwell on this subject that it was often said 
of a handsome person: ‘* You can see the perfect beauty of 
his bones.’’ 

The great sculptor, having found a model as nearly as 
possible like what he wished to produce, took the move- 
ment and general disposition of the figure from him, cor- 
recting his defects by means of other models, or from his 
remembrance of good figures seen and measured. The 
trunk was to him the most important part of the human 
form, and, next to that, the lower limbs. These must be 
carefully studied and beautifully arranged, and are expected 
to make the principal effect of the figure. The head and 
arms were accessions, to be disposed according to the needs 
of the trunk. The trunk is divided into masses by five 
great lines, the first commencing at the upper end of the 
sternum and following the center of the body down to the 
pubis ; the second following the vertebree down the back ; 
the third extending from armpit to armpit, underneath the 
pectoral muscles ; the fourth following the line of the false 
ribs, in a semicircle, across the body ; the fifth, that which 
separates the abdomen from the thighs. The establishment 
of these masses in their various places, contrasting the 
broad, smooth surface of one with the broken and varied 
details of another, the firmness of one with the softness or 
flexibility of another, and the seeking of graceful opposi- 
tions in the directions of the great lines, seems to have been 
regarded as the most important work. 

In the establishment of the masses they sought to aug- 
ment their magnitude by increasing the convexity of their 

surfaces as much as might be done without becoming 
unnatural—that is to say, without surpassing the possible 
development of the model. Again, they increased the 
apparent magnitude of each part by what is called the 
enveloping of one part by another. For instance, the thigh, 

Vol. 4, No. 1—6 

82 The Western. 

on its external profile, is attached higher up on the body 
than on the inner side. Now, extend the external attach- 
ment of the thigh as high on the body as nature will per- 
mit, and let the body come well down on the inner profile 
of the thigh, and you have increased the apparent height 
of the whole figure, and given an appearance of great power. 
Notice all the different points of the limbs, and you will see 
that the point of attachment of one side of a member is not 
opposite the point of attachment of the other; and the 
farther the two points are from being opposite, the stronger 
and more beautiful is the joint. Again, the great artist 
eschewed perfect regularity of form or feature, although he 
sought a near approach to it. In every antique figure you 
will observe that one side of the face will be heavier than 
the other; the eyes are not both on the same level, nor the 
mouth quite horizontal. One side of the body is more mass- 
ive than the other. These differences are very slight, and 
serve to give ease and life to the figures. As in the orna- 
mentation of Gothic architecture, the evident regularity of 
the general plan forms a contrast with the slight irregularity 
of detail, and gives greater pleasure than if all was mathe- 
mitically exact. Much of the pleasure we receive from 
works of art depends upon the ease with which the eye sees 
and takes in all, and causes us to understand the meaning 
and intention of the artist without effort. 

The Greek artists made no puzzles. The purpose of each 
work was clear, and the simplicity of the execution gave 
repose, instead of labor, to the eye. To all who underesti- 
mate the value of simplicity as an element of beauty, Iwould 
say, look at the face of a beautiful girl ; how broad and sim- 
ple are its forms; reflect, now, on what it will be years 
hence, when age has introduced details—i. e., wrinkles. 
Will not its beauty be impaired? 

How well the ancients knew this, and how unflinchingly 
they suppressed every detail that might mar the breadth of 
their planes or the graceful sweep of their lines, leaving 

Principle of Beauty. 83 

only such as could serve to seemingly augment, by their 
contrast, the extent and evenness of their broad surfaces. 
I would not have it inferred from what I have said that the 
Greeks neglected the expression of the face, because in the 
material execution of their work they made the head, as a 
factor of the general beauty, subservient to the body. The 
Laocodn alone would suffice to contradict such an opinion. 
The face, with them, was simply the culminating point of a 
general expression pervading the entire figure. Why did 
the Greeks excel moderns in art, while so inferior in science? 
Because their artists observed nature — studied, weighed, 
measured, and classified facts, while their philosophers were 
disputing about vain imaginings. Modern philosophers, by 
observation and record of fact, have built up science, while 
the artists gaze dreamily on the mists of their internal con- 
sciousness and produce emptiness. 
Jno. M. Tracy. 

The Western. 


Tue History or a Boox. By Annie Carey. London: Cassell, 

Petter & Galpin. 

In the form of a dialogue between books, Miss Carey presents 
the history of printing, and brings it within the reach of very 
young persons. The ten chapters are entitled History of Print- 
ing, Stereotyping, Engraving, Electrotyping, Paper-making, the 
Press-room, the Machine-room, the Newspaper Press, the 
Binding-shop, and the History of Book-binding. The informa- 
tion furnished will be valuable to many who lack opportunity for 
acquaintance with a treatise, while, for the young reader, valuable 
instruction is conveyed without interfering with the pleasure which 

may be the sole motive for reading. 

Firty-seconp ANNUAL Report OF THE PresipeNt OF HarvaRD 

CoLteGe. 1876-1877. 

Education has become a topic of such great sociological impor- 
tance that reports such as this of President Eliot have an interest 
for many besides those who look to Harvard as their Alma Mater. 
Among college presidents, Dr. Eliot represents the movements in 
university education, and gives expression to the views held by 
many who deal most directly with university interests. The points 
of general interest in the present report are, Ist, the results of the 
change in the conditions for conferring the degree of Master of 
Arts; 2d, the library as an auxiliary of advanced education; 3d, 
change in conditions of admission; 4th, the results of ‘‘ voluntary 
attendance ;’’ 5th, sources of supply of students; 6th, statistics 
of duration of college life. 

Sty.Le or Burns’ Poonic SHort-HAND. New York: Burns & Co. 
Our Future Lire, wirh a ConcisE PRESENTATION OF THE ELE- 
MENTS [or PHonoGrapHic Writinc. New York: Burns & Co. 

The recent session of the Spelling Reform Congress has, doubt- 

Book Reviews. 85 

less, awakened interest and inquiry, and the arrival of these two 
books suggests the possibility of their immediate usefulness to 
some of our readers. Mrs. Burns is well known as a persistent 
supporter of phonic reform, and through a series of years she has, 
by her publications, done yeoman’s service in the cause which 
specially commends itself to her. Unfortunately, we are not qual- 
ified to speak in detail of the merit of these books, but do not hesi- 
tate to recommend them from our knowledge of the general high 
character of the books which she publishes. 

Mepicat InstiruTIoNs IN THE UNITED States OF AMERICA. 
1776-1876. Washington: Bureau of Education. 1877. 

The historical series begun in the Report on Public Libraries 
is continued in the present volume by Dr. N.S. Davis, of Chicago, 
who had, in 1850, published a volume upon the same subject, and 
who, in 1876, read before’ the International Medical Congress an 
address upon the same subject. For the period from the settle- 
ment of the Colonies to 1776, Dr. Davis refers his readers to Dr. 
James Thacher’s American Medical Biography, Dr. John B. Beck’s 
History of American Medicine before the Revolution, and to a 
monograph by Dr. J. M. Toner, the disposition of whose library 
has recently occupied public attention. In 1776 there were 
about 3,500 practitioners among the 3,000,000 of people in the 
thirteen states, two medical colleges, two organized medical 
societies, and one permanent general hospital. Dr. Davis con- 
siders his subject under the headings of I, Medical Colleges and 
Hospitals ; and, II, Social Medical Organizations. Under the former 
he considers the changes wrought in the requirements, as well as 
furnishes a brief history, of our medical colleges; missing Geneva 
Medical College, we cannot say whether the list was intended to be 
exhaustive. Under the head of Social Medical Organizations, Dr. 
Davis presents the development of the idea which has resulted in 
the modern medical society, and presents the history of such as 
have obtained a fixed position. The pamphlet will be found inter- 
esting to many to whom the knowledge of medicine is as a sealed 
book, and it is to attract the attention of these that this brief 
notice is made. 


86 The Western. 

SHAKESPEARE Priwer. By Edward Dowden. London: Macmillan 

& Co. 1877. 

The Literature Primers published by Macmillan & Co. have 
become generally and favorably known, and yet many to whom 
their acquaintance would be directly serviceable are deterred from 
reading them, by their name. The design of the series is to pre- 
sent in short space the results of the most mature labor, in order 
that those who are too busy to become special students shall not. 
be condemned to ignorance because of the immensity of the labor 
required for a general intelligence. Mr. Dowden has presented in 
this Shakespeare Primer the received opinions upon a thousand 
and one matters in controversy among Shakespearian readers, and, 
although these views represent one of two easily distinguishable 
schools of criticism, yet they furnish satisfactory answers to the 
questions most likely to occur to the young student of Shake- 
speare, and lend him necessary direction in the prosecution of his 
inquiries. The topics considered are as follows: 

Chapter I.—England in Shakespeare’s Youth ; Pre-Shakespearian 
Dramas; Theaters and Actors; Performance of a Play; Writers 
of Plays sometimes Actors; Plays considered as Property. 

Chapter II.—Stratford ; Shakespeare’s Parentage ; Schooling and 
Recreations ; His Father’s Decline in Fortune; Marriage; Leaves 
Stratford; Early Years in London; Other Elements of Personal 
Biography; Portraits. 

Chapter III.—Early Editions. 

Chapter IV.—Evidence of the Chronology of Shakespeare’s 

Chapter V.— Periods of Shakespeare’s Career; Groups and 
Dates of Plays. 

Chapter VI.— Introductions to the Play and Poems; Literary 
Characteristics and Questions of Authorship. 

Chapter VII.—History of Shakespearian interest from 1616 to 

Chapter VIII.—Books useful to Students of Shakespeare. 

Much of the information contained in this book is accessible 
through Fleay’s Shakespeare Manual, and through other Shake- 
speariana; but the importance of Mr. Dowden’s work arises from 
the inexpensive form in which it is furnished, and the consequent. 
promise of greater intelligence in the views of people to whom 
Shakespeariana is not a passion. Mr. Dowden belongs to the school 


Book Reviews. 87 

represented in England by The New Shakespeare Society, and in 
America by Richard Grant White. Those who use his book may, 
therefore, rely upon its statements in all matters of text or his- 
tory, hut will not expect any elaboration of character, any esthetic 
criticism, or any attempt at what Mr. Snider terms a “* System of 
Shakespeare.’’ In conclusion, we should recommend every reader 
of Shakespeare, whose library does not already furnish the informa- 
tion contained in Mr. Dowden’s Primer, to go straightway and 
possess himself of what is more than an equivalent for its cost— 
25 cents. 

AnceLo. By Stuart Sterne. Hurd & Houghton. 1878. 

Who Stuart Sterne is, is now, I apprehend, an open secret to 
most of us. The masculine disguise hides but ill the ardors of a 
woman’s heart, nor is her prose so diverse from her verse that we 
cannot recognize in the brother a likeness to the impassioned 

The theme here chosen is noble, and well adapted to the writer’s 
genius. The stately figure of Vittoria Colonna rises before us 
simple, chaste, beautiful. This picture of unalterable devotion, 
of unshaken fidelity, of assured tranquillity, has a beauty beyond 
anything we have yet seen from the author’s pen. Vittoria can 
be shaken by but one storm—the sense that she has faltered in 
the devotion that sways her inmost being. She is rightly repre- 
sented as past the chance of this life’s trouble touching her —as 
having on earth attained eternity. The tempest of Angelo’s love 
cannot disrupt the calm wherein she habitually dwells—she has 
reached heaven; he remains yet on earth. 

The poem, however, is rightly named Angelo; for its purport, 
surely, is to show that intense devotion is its own end; that love 
is its own fruition and ecstasy. He gains, at the last, a higher 
height than hers; he gives up all that he holds most dear, and is 
possessed by his pure affection alone. 

Praise is to be given the author for the prevailing religious appli- 
cation she has given the conduct of her poem. These struggles 
become thus representative of the larger conflict in man’s heart 
to reach and liken himself to the Eternal. 

She has likewise succeeded admirably in her descriptions of the 
great master’s works. Some of them are singularly felicitous, 

88 The Western. 

but most to be commended is her adaptation of them to the pur- 
poses of her story; they become illustrative of the phases of 
Angelo’s passion for Vittoria. Very touching is the scene in 
which Vittoria visits the studio of Angelo and praises the figure 
of the sleeping Cupid, which she trembles to awaken. The outer 
world, throughout the poem, is subtly made typical of the moods 
of the actors. Angelo first meets Vittoria in a chapel, after 
vespers ; she rises on him like the star of his better life; the one 
internal storm to which she is subjected is reflected in the tempest 
raging without, and in death she lies, 

“the clasped hands 
Folding a lily-stem, where shining flowers 
Nestled, unmoved and still, against her heart.” 

It would be easy to cite passages of unusual excellence or 
beauty; but the worth of the poem does not consist in these, but 
in the statuesque representations of its figures, its intensity of 
passion, and a certain rich and solemn music to which its thoughts 
are appropriately set. We cannot help, however, saying here that 
the’ useless prevarication of which Vittoria is guilty, in the scene 
in which Angelo deciares his passion, strikes us as an unresolved 
discord in the harmony. It is wholly out of keeping with Vittoria’s 

Greater attention to the technical requirements of the art would, 
surely, have not made the poem less meritorious. The lines are 
sometimes needlessly rough and difficult to read; the frequent use 
of the feminine termination appears to be out of place in a nar- 
rative poem —it is dramatic, not epical; the ending of lines with 
insignificant words like of or for is certainly unhappy; the omis- 
sions of relative pronouns, and frequent parentheses, are not 
altogether deserving of praise. The occasional choice of words 
is not of the best—a conventional expression taking the place of a 
poetic one. But to these matters it is necessary simply to refer. 
We congratulate the author on her success, and shall look to any 
succeeding poem of hers with an assurance of great and elevated 

L. J. Brock. 

As far as the work ‘‘ Angelo”’ indicates, Stuart Sterne is poet- 
ical—in places. The plot of the poem is as follows: Angelo first 
meets Vittoria de Colonna at the end of vespers; respect is mutual, 

Book Reviews. 89 

though from different motives; this acquaintance ripens, on her 
part in admiration of his genius, into life-long friendship — but 
nothing more, for she remains true to the end to the memory of 
her first love, the dead Pescara; on his part, Angelo’s friendship 
becomes love ; he asks her hand in marriage, and is delicately, but 
firmly, refused ; they still remain friends until her death, by which 
event he is, for a time, driven to despair, but at length finds relief 
in labor at his studio. 

The author is so much more successful in his treatment of Vit- 
toria than of Angelo that one thinks of the propriety of giving 
her name, rather than his, as the title of the poem, one of whose 
choice passages is the description of this heroine, pp. 11, 12, and 
13. The author seems more successful in descriptions than in 
analysis of internal motives; as instance, in addition to the pas- 
sage already cited, the beginning and concluding pages, as well as 
the account of the surroundings at Santa Marguerita, p. 21 ef seq. 
But these descriptions are too detailed, and that is sometimes 
enlarged upon which might be safely left to the imagination of the 
intelligent reader, who might safely assume that any well-bred 
lady would, under the same circumstances, have said and done as 
Vittoria is represented to have said and done, on p. 24 of the 
poem. As to motives, she is constantly swaying between Angelo 
the artist, whom she admires, and Angelo the man, whom she does 
not love ; she treads most dangerous ground, and the author merits 
high praise in leading her, as he does, so successfully and artistic- 
ally out of her complications that she loses nothing. ’Tis Angelo 
who makes the sacrifice ; but it seems impossible that the well-nigh 
supernaturally magnanimous Angelo of history could have been 
the selfish, puerile suitor of the poem, who could suggest a renewal 
of his suit at their very next meeting after his rejection, and who 
still suggests it though he sees her slowly wasting from sickness, 
especially since he could leave her during her fatal illness to per- 
form some job or other at a distance, which by his own admission 
he could, if he chose (to quote the chaste language of the poem), 
‘‘throw up.’’ But, then, ‘‘no man is a hero to his valet,’’ and 
such things might be; but the valet should furnish material for the 
historian, not the poet. 

In diction the author seldom rises above the most apparent com- 
monplace, as such phrases as the following attest: ‘‘ Gentle hint,’” 

90 The Western. 

** chimed in,’’ ‘‘ cast in a mold,’’ ‘* lend your ear,’’ ‘* lying (?} 
waste,’’ ‘‘oil on the troubled waters,’’ ‘intolerable burden,’” 
** but for this once,’’ ‘‘ cup of woe,’’ ‘** stand by me,”’ ‘* smooth my 
thorny pillow,’’ ‘‘ truce to warfare,’’ ‘‘ balm for wounds,’’ ‘*‘ throw 
up this work,’’ ‘‘ her placid brow,’’ *‘ crabbed old fellow,’’ etc. The 
metaphor is of similar quality—the conventional clouds for sor- 
row, and sunlight for joy, etc. It is a relief to note partial excep- 
tions to this rule: p. 15, ‘* the sturdy oak,’’ etc. ; and, p. 43, ** the 
face of God,’’ etc. 

The versification is often exceptionable, and, at times, would 
defy the skill of an adept at scansion. As instances of this, note 
pp. 80, 82, 87, 96, lines 8, 1, 6, and 19, respectively. 

This poem is like a dumb-bell—strong at the extremities and weak 

The following passages are noticeably beautiful: That embraced 
in the first thirteen pages; Angelo’s avowal, pp. 58, 59; Angelo’s 
prayer and grief, at the conclusion. 

F. E. Cook. 

Reapines rv EnGuiso Poetry. London: William & Robert Cham- 

bers. 1872. 

This is an addition to what are called Books of Specimens, and 
largely represents selections from Chambers’ Cyclopcedia of Litera- 
ture adapted to use in school classes. The character of the work 
uniformly done by the Messrs. Chambers prepares one to find a 
more tasteful selection than such books generally present, and yet. 
the extracts are so brief as to interfere with the value of the book, 
either as a manual or as a reader. The objects which should be 
sought through a school reader are so distinct from those of a 
manual of literature as to negative any attempt at their combina- 
tion. The primary object of a reader is to teach reading, and, 
hence, many literary extracts are excluded by their want of adapta- 
tion to the rhetorical powers of the child. Amiable as is the 
desire to instill an early fondness for classic literature, any attempt 
to do this through a reader must necessarily be limited to such 
selections as, from their theme and their treatment, are within the 
interest and rhetorical power of the child. Hence any experience 
of text-books for teaching reading speedily satisfies one that our 
best literature cannot be used below the most advanced book of a 

Book Reviews. 91 

series, and that, even in this, one is forced to sacrifice the master- 
pieces as alien in subject from the interests of children, and too 
difficult in structure for proper rhetorical presentation. On the 
other hand, manuals of literary specimens have so far failed to 
present characteristic extracts, so that the student lacks the means 
of testing the statements of the teacher or critic by a direct appeal 
to passages which show the range and quality of the various 
authors. The objects sought by a course of English literature in 
schools should be the foundation of that taste which ripens with 
time, and a general, but accurate and exhaustive, knowledge of 
the history and characteristics of the representative names in 

In the present book, Edmund Spenser is represented by ten 
stanzas from the beginning of the first book of The Fairy Queen, 
and four stanzas from the seventh book and seventh canto. The 
first illustrates the plot of The Fairy Queen, rather than any of 
Spenser’s characteristics; the second does, to some extent, show 
Spenser’s fondness for allegorical writing, and the gracefulness 
of his fancy. But the reader would have no idea of Spenser’s 
power in serious description, as shown in the Cave of Mammon, 
or The House of Despair ; of his inexhaustible resources, as shown 
in description which, in variety, have a wide range from the 
beauties of landscape to the clash of battle; of Spenser’s reflec- 
tions, which form a large and valuable portion of his epic; or of 
that deeply religious vein which runs through all of his poetry. 
Milton is represented by a fragment of the Hymn on the Nativity, 
L’ Allegro, Sonnet on the Piedmontese, Satan’s Address to the Sun, 
and Morning Prayer of Adam and Eve (for the Paradise Lost), 
and Satan’s Survey of Greece (for the Paradise Regained). While 
Milton’s work presents less variety than that of many other poets, 
it is evident that these passages would fail to convey, even in 
brief, the characteristics of this great master of English song. 
The limits of a manual for school use are necessarily narrow, and 
yet, if one’s attention were confined to a reasonable number of the 
greatest names in English literature, and by presenting illustrations 
of all such characteristics as are presentable to young people, a 
book might be made which should prove to be a valuable com- 
panion until such time as interest and opportunity had enabled the 
student to thoroughly acquaint himself with the living parts of our 

92 The Western. 

classical literature. In our libraries, however, any collections of 
literary specimens serve an important use, and, although this be 
alien from that proposed by the compiler, we may find, as in the 
present instance, that a book unsuitable for its professed aim may 
yet add greatly to the convenience of the general reader. 


System or SHAKESPEARE’S Dramas. By Denton J. Snider. St. 

Louis: G. I. Jones & Co. 1877. 

Shakespearian literature is already so very voluminous that it 
would seem any further commentaries on the greatest dramatic 
bard of all ages could well be spared, unless, indeed, wholly novel 
points of view could be opened—an almost impossible thing in 
this case—or the writer, in one way or another, have something to 
say well worth the hearing and attention of the world. Of course 
we all of us more or less cherish the fond conviction that we have 
that word to say—even Emerson somewhere expresses that no man 
can write well who does not for the time being believe he is saying 
the finest thing ever uttered by man. And in this case that con- 
viction is more than usually justified, so that we may say there 
seems, indeed, a distinct ‘‘ reason of being’’ for Mr. Snider’s book, 
which, very moderate though it looks, really, under the circum- 
stances, means not a little praise. Moreover, earnest effort and 
a direct and clearly-defined purpose are always entitled to our 
respect and consideration, in whatever field we may encounter 
them, particularly when they are sustained by ample knowledge 
and marked ability, conscientious study and scholarly research, 
and all of these Mr. Snider has fully brought to bear on his sub- 
ject. With a thoroughness which, for want of a better term, I 
will call German, but a simplicity, force, and directness by no 
means equally characteristic of the ‘‘ nation of thinkers,’’ he sets 
about his great task, and carries it successfully through to the end. 
Indeed, German thought and German philosophy have undoubtedly 
had a great share in the development of Mr. Snider’s mind, and 
their influence on his work is so unmistakable that I cannot help 
wondering in how far he may have unconsciously been guided by 
German models—have followed the paths they marked out for 
him. Were his labor the result of original and independent think- 
ing — so far as the mental process in any being born into an age of 

Book Reviews. 93 

such rich intellectual inheritance as ours can ever be called thus — 
I should consider it a remarkable achievement. Already the intro- 
duction inspires us with confidence, and shows us that the author, 
to put it into a homely, but expressive, phrase, ‘‘ knows exactly what 
he is about.’’ He gives us here a very clear and correct exposi- 
tion of the ‘‘ dramatic, and its relation to other forms of poetry,’’ 
and more particularly of the nature of tragedy, with its inner con- 
flicts as well as outward collisions (all of them subjects upon which 
a great deal of instruction is sorely needed by the public at large), 
tracing everything back in the last instance to ethical laws and 
principles. The word ‘ ethical’’ is, indeed, so favorite a one with 
Mr. Snider that there is scarcely a page in the book in which it 
does not occur at least once. But when he tells us expressly that 
he wishes the reader to bear in mind that the word is not used 
according to its general acceptation—as being synonymous with 
the term moral—I cannot help thinking that he makes a great 
mistake in not precisely explaining what he does wish us to under- 
stand by it; and, when he speaks of an ‘‘ ethical woman,’’ the 
word means nothing unless it means moral. After the introduc- 
tion, he proceeds to divide the Shakespearian dramas into two large 
groups, which, in their turn, contain several subdivisions—legend- 

ary drama, which includes the tragedies and comedies, or what Mr. 


Snider calls ‘‘ mediated drama ;’’ and historical drama, in which all 
the historical plays are treated of. Among the immortal tragedies 
which are classed together, many readers will, undoubtedly, turn 
first to Hamlet, that greatest, most interesting, and most inex- 
haustible of all plays, and this exposition furnishes us, indeed, 
an excellent example of Mr. Snider’s powers of mind, and manner 
of handling his subject. The latter may be compared to a process 
of dissection. But he uses the scalpel to very good purpose. 
With great clearness, acuteness, and precision he lays bare the 
secret springs: and workings of the action, and follows up the 
various threads and movements to their logical conclusion, which, 
in the case of so subtle and intricate a plot as that of Hamlet, is 
no small or easy task. The comedies are impartially treated in 
the same manner; and it is not too much to say that the author 
has, in every case, grasped the innermost essence and fundamental 
idea of each play, and succeeded in setting them forth clearly and 
forcibly. Living up to his very excellent conviction that ‘‘ a crit- 
ical method which injects any foreign element into Shakespeare is 

94 The Western. 

unquestionably vicious,’’ he has tinged his expositions as little as 
possible with any individual sentiment or opinion, and that is a very 
high merit in a work of this kind. They are merely the glass, so to 
speak, through which we see more clearly and distinctly certain points 
and proportions of the plays ; and I have no doubt that they will aid 
many earnest students of Shakespeare towards gaining a more 
correct and conscious comprehension of the great master. The 
style, however, while it is simple, clear, and forcible, and not ill- 
adapted to the purpose, yet strikes me as being singularly cold 
and dry, though, indeed, Mr. Snider protests from the first, and 
with what seems to me rather uncalled-for vehemence, against that 
kind of criticism which ‘‘ glows over the beauties of the poet in 
raptures, exclamations, and figurative convulsions.’’ Nor is it 
free from certain inadequacies, and even occasional grammatical 
slips. To say, for instance, that something ‘* begins to get out- 
side of the domain of the beautiful,’’ and that ‘‘ Juliet is also 
caught,’ is hardly in harmony with the dignity of the subject; 
while the phrase in Hamlet—possibly overlooked by the proof- 
reader — ‘‘ without saying or doing hardly anything,’’ is absolutely 
incorrect. And the dryness of style brings me to another point 
by which we are unpleasantly touched—a certain spirit of pedantry 
that pervades the whole, making itself felt, perhaps, more than seen, 
but cropping out very visibly in such remarks as the one in Romeo 
and Juliet, that the love of man and woman ‘‘ never should reach 
so high a degree’’ that neither can exist without the other, ‘‘ for 
thus it turns to guilt,’’ ete. To attempt to dictate to love, pre- 
scribe certain limits to it, bid it go just so far and no further, seems 
as utterly ridiculous as the command of the old king to the waves 
of the sea. Pedantry, however, as well as its reverse, is among 
those things directly given or withheld by the gods, for which the 
individual cannot be called to an account; and Mr. Snider has given 
us so much that is valuable that, find fault as one will, he ought, if 
justice were done, to take high and respectable rank among Shake- 
spearian critics and commentators. 
G. B. 

TRANSATLANTIC SKETCHES. By Henry James, Jr. Boston: J. R. 
Osgood & Co. 1875. 

It is more than two years since this book was published, but I 
do not believe it has ever become as widely known as it most richly 

Book Reviews. 95 

deserves to be. Not that by any possibility it could ever be at all 
popular. It is of far too fine a quality for that, and to flatter 
oneself with such a hope would be to imagine us rich in a far 
greater number of men of Mr. James’ own peculiar culture and 
refinement than the country can yet boast of. But I wish that 
more among the people who really are able to appreciate such 
work would give themselves up to the peculiar charm exercised 
by these pages—a charm, indeed, of so subtle a kind that I have 
found it to utterly elude the grasp and defy definition. We may 
not always be in the mood to relish such a book, as we cannot at 
all times listen to fine music, or wholly take in a lovely landscape 
or a great picture, but we will find ourselves ever recurring to it 
with fresh zest and renewed pleasure, and it is one of the few 
volumes that will richly repay repeated perusal. The subjects — 
chiefly England, Switzerland, and Italy —are, it is safe to say, 
about as trite as well could be, and as familiar to ordinary readers 
as are those much-traveled countries themselves to industrious 
tourists ; but Mr. James has imparted to them all so fresh, and rare, 
and racy flavor of their own that, what with the fine and deep 
thought scattered here and there, and the delicate humor now and 
then cropping out (indeed, Mr. James would be no ‘‘ American ’’ 
were he lacking in that most characteristic quality), he makes us 
almost feel as though he were the traveler par excellence, and as 
though no one had ever seen or sketched anything before him. He 
sees with such an exquisitely artistic eye and comprehension that 
we almost sigh over the fact that he was not born a painter, and 
sketches with a hand so graceful, light, and happy that, with a few 
vivid touches, a flash of sunlight or a streak of shadow, a gleam 
of waters or a nodding flower, he gives us a better picture than 
others have done in many pages’ of highly-colored description. 
Description, indeed, is not at all the word to apply to his most 
original and fascinating method, which is very far away from that 
ordinary, wearisome, and often wholly unsuccessful, effort. He 
hints, rather than declares; suggests, rather than broadly states ; 
and does not so much give us the actual image and picture of 
things as the impression those images have made on his own 
mind—a sort of ‘‘spirit photograph’’ in a higher and better 
sense, if the name of something very hideous may be used in 
connection with something very beautiful. But, as those hints and 

96 The Western. 

suggestions are all wonderfully pertinent and telling, and that mind 
reflects every line and curve, every tint and shade, with exquisite 
delicacy and purity, we hardly ask for anything better, short of 
actual experience, than these glimpses of almost all that is noblest 
and most beautiful in the Old World, suffused, as they are, with a 
light, and warmth, and color that have rarely been equaled, and 
never, I believe, excelled, in what may be truly called ‘* word- 
painting.’’ Whenever he does give us a real picture, it is dashed 
down with the strength and boldness that call to mind certain 
brilliant water-color sketches. Look at these, for instance: ‘‘ Swiss 
village fountains are delightful; the homely village life centers 
about the great stone basin (roughly inscribed, generally, with an 
antique date), where the tinkling cattle drink; where the lettuce 
and the linen are washed; where dusty pedestrians, with their lips 
at the spout, need scarcely devote their draught to the ‘health’ 
of the brawny beauties who lean, brown-armed, over the trough, 
and the plash of the cool, hard water is heard at either end of the 
village street.’” ‘*To look at the tufted broom glowing on a 
lonely tower-top in the still blue air, and the pale pink asphodels 
trembling none the less for the stillness, and the shaggy-legged 
shepherds leaning on their sticks, in motionless brotherhood with 
the heaps of ruin, and the scrambling goats and staggering little 
kids treading out wild desert smells from the top of hollow- 
sounding mounds.’’ ‘*But, most of all, it is the deep, yellow 
light which enchants you, and tells you where you are. See it 
come filtering down through a vine-covered trellis on the red hand- 
kerchief with which a ragged contadina has bound her hair; and 
all the magic of Italy, to the eye, seems to make an aureole about 
the poor girl’s head. Look at a brown-breasted reaper eating his 
chunk of black bread under a spreading chestnut; nowhere is 
shadow so charming, nowhere is color so charged, nowhere is 
accident so picturesque.’’ ‘‘Gardens which brown, skinny, old 
women are always raking, and scraping, and watering, nosing and 
fumbling among the cabbages, like goats on the edge of a preci- 
pice.’’ ‘*I confess I am sensible of the charms of a vine-shaded 

porch, of tulips and dahlias glowing in the shade of high-arching 
elms, of heavy-scented lilacs bending over a white paling to brush 
your cheek.’’ Of the Italian oak: ‘‘ It crooks its back, and twists 
its arms, and clenches its hundred fists with the most fantastic 

Book Reviews. 97 

extravagance, and wrinkles its bark into strange rugosities, from 
which its first scattered sprouts of yellow green seem to break out 
like a morbid fungus.’’ And of an Italian prince: ‘‘ When he 
looks out of his window he sees a battered old peasant against a 
sunny wall, sawing off his dinner from a hunch of black bread.’’ 
I hardly know whether he is at his best in telling of the Roman 
Campagna, of a fine ancient cathedral, or a grand old picture; but 
what of its kind could be better and happier than bits of color, 
thoughts, and expressions like these, for instance, of a cathedral: 
‘**I felt it above me, massing its gray mysteries in the star-light.’’ 
Of a picture: ‘‘ The old man looks out of the canvas from beneath 
a brow as sad as a sunless twilight.’’ Of the ‘* abundance of 
inclosed light’’ in St. Peter’s: ‘* There are no shadows to speak 
of, no marked effects of shade; but effects of light innumerable— 
points at which the light seems to mass itself in airy density, and 
scatter itself in enchanting gradations and cadences. It performs 
the office of shadow in Gothic churches; hangs like a rolling mist 
along the gilded vault of the nave; melts into bright interfusion the 
mosaic scintillations of the dome; clings, and clusters, and lingers, 
and vivifies the whole vast atmosphere.’’ ‘‘ It was so bright and yet 
so sad, so still and yet so charged, to the supersensuous ear, with 
the murmur of an extinguished life, that you could only say it was 
intensely and deliciously strange, and that the Roman Campagna 
is the most suggestive place in the world.’’ Of the lark in that 
same Campagna: **‘Sometimes you fancy you just distinguish him, 
a mere vague spot against the blue, an intenser throb in the uni- 
versal pulsation of light.’’ ‘‘ It is exactly as if there were a sex 
in mountains, and their’’ (the mountains of Italy) ‘‘ contours, and 
curves, and complexions were here all of the feminine gender.’” 
‘* Pisa may be a dull place to live in, but it is a capital place to 
wait for death.’’ ‘* The church was empty, or filled only with the 
faded light and its own immense solemnity.’’ Of certain immense 
old Italian palaces: ‘‘Such quarters seem a translation into space 
of the old-fashioned idea of leisure.’’ ‘*On the north side is an 
ancient row of houses, backing on the river, in whose yellow flood 
they bathe their aching old feet.’’ Of a cemetery in Rome> 
‘* Here is a mixture of tears and smiles, of stones and flowers, of 
mourning cypresses and radiant sky, which almost tempts one to 
fancy one is looking back at death from the brighter side of the grave. 

Vol. 4, No. 1—7. 

98 The Western. 

You seem to see a cluster of modern ashes held tenderly in the 
rugged hand of the past.’’ And of a certain church in Rome: 
** Within, it is magnificent ; marble and mosaic, alabaster and mala- 
chite, lapis and porphyry, incrust it from pavement to cornice, and 
flash back their polished lights at each other with such a splendor 
of effect that you seem to stand at the heart of some immense 
prismatic crystal.’’ The book is full of brilliantly-beautiful pas- 
sages like this, but I have quoted more than enough to give a taste 
of its general quality, and show how rich it is in ‘*suggestive- 
ness’’ —to employ, for want of a better, that much-abused word— 
for both painter and poet. Among the passages that are too long 
for transcription, I would like to call special attention to the 
remarks on Norman towers, on a Swiss village street, on Vandyke’s 
**Children of Charles I.,’’ and Da Vinci’s ‘* Last Supper;’’ on 
Tintoretto, on certain Italian children, on a feudal castle, and again 
onthe Campagna. Now and then he tells us, with a sort of naive self- 
consciousness —if, indeed, it is possible there should be such a 
thing — some trifling personal detail: that he frowned or smiled 
at something; that he stretched himself on the grass, or bought a 
hatful of peaches. But these details melt in so well with the gen- 
eral picturesqueness, and are told so simply and in so charmingly 
amiable a manner, that we take no offense at, but rather like, them, 
though we occasionally have a suspicion, not entirely pleasant, 
that he never wholly loses himself in any emotion. A delightful 
amiability and genial warmth, a depth of tenderness and enthu- 
siasm, which we had scarcely looked for in Mr. James, are, 
indeed, among the most charming minor fascinations of the book, 
and will make even those, I venture to say, who have been kept at 
& distance, by the somewhat chilly reserve and objectivity of his 
stories, draw very near to the author, and, in a measure, love the 
man, whom, indeed, we cannot be said to be at all acquainted 
with before we have read these sketches. They are jotted down 
with an easy grace that betrays no conscious effort, and makes 
them appear rather like the impromptu utterings of a mind of 
exquisite natural fineness than the deliberate expression of a man 
ef extraordinary culture and refinement, and yet with something 
that I am almost tempted to call a dangerous facility that does 
not leave one entirely free from a certain misgiving ; for we cannot 
help asking ourselves if this almost too easy grace may not some- 

Book Reviews. 99 

time evaporate into mere pleasant chat—though, I imagine, it 
would never be without a certain flavor of esprit —this style, so 
remarkably rich, ripe, and mellow for a writer whose reputation is 
comparatively young, degenerate into something like mannerism. 
This would infallibly be the case if the development of Mr. James’ 
other powers (I should be sorry to think there was not still a good 
deal left in him to develop) did not keep step with that remarkable 
sense of form which is his strongest characteristic, and has, in a 
measure, already outstripped every other manifestation of his 
peculiar genius — for genius he undoubtedly possesses. So far, I 
have, however, discovered no sign in him that would seem to hint 
at such a ‘‘ falling off,’’ and have, indeed, never met with any one 
who appeared to be so little corrupted by what is supposed to be 
a fatal employment for authors —‘‘ writing for the magazines.’” 
His papers, contributed to different monthlies in this country, 
seem rather to grow better and better. I shall continue to watch 
with unabated interest and sympathy the further manifestations of 
a mind that I consider, beyond question, one of the most original 
America has produced in many years, and, to such as would make 
themselves acquainted with it, cannot too strongly recommend 
** Transatlantic Sketches.’’ 
G. BLoEpE. 

The Western. 


German THEATER.—Madame von Racowitza deserves the 
thanks of all lovers of fine acting for the two representations she 
has given at DeBar’s Theater. Beautiful, graceful, with a 
voice of great sweetness and admirable training, full of spirit and 
fire, yet never overstepping the limits of good taste, she is such 
an actress as we seldom see. Much credit is due to the excellent 
support given by the local company of Mr. and Mrs. Pelosi. 
When may we hope to see upon the American stage acting so 
evenly good, so carefully finished in every detail? 

Tue Society or Userut KNowLepce met first in May, 1876, com- 
pleted its organization in the fall, and during its first season pro- 
vided a course of lectures on ‘‘ Shakespeare,’’ by D. J. Snider; 
two lectures on ‘‘ Natural Philosophy,’’ by Dr. O. A. Wall; and 
an essay on ‘* Michael Angelo’s Fates,’’ by W. T. Harris. Dur- 
ing 1877-78, in addition to meetings already noted, the society 
has given two parlor entertainments at Mrs. Noble’s, on which occa- 
sions Mr. Coale entertained the company with papers upon ‘‘ Con- 
temporary Art’’ and ‘** Household Decoration.’’ The aim of this 
society is to codporate with such persons as are engaged in 
home study, and to give them the assistance of older students 
to whom the directors of the society have access. 

In THE ContrisuTor’s Crus of the Atlantic for January are some 
pertinent remarks under the heading ‘‘ Culture versus Cakes and 
Ale.’’ The question is whether so-called cultivated people have 
any right to denounce what they are pleased to consider the uncul- 
tivated tastes of other people. After all, we are forced to the 
conclusion that it must be a narrow sort of culture which cannot 
tolerate anything but masterpieces and classics, or allow that it is 
legitimate for people to enjoy what they do not approve. From 
such an altitude as the unhappy ones of this class have reached 
one would naturally suppose that they would have reached serenity, 

Current Notes. 101 

and that their point of view would include all the stages by which 
they climbed to their present height. We think that the remarks 
of the Contributor’s Club form a good lay sermon, which ought to 
be reprinted as a tract for general distribution. 

Tue American ANTIQUARIAN—A quarterly journal of correspond- 
ence on American Archeology, Ethnology, and Anthropology— 
is the title of a new journal now being published by the Archzxo- 
logical Exchange Club of Chicago, and edited by Rev. Stephen 
D. Peet, of Ashtabula, Ohio. Without doubt this journal will 
be hailed with satisfaction by all those interested in the early 
history of our country, and particularly by those seeking more 
extended knowledge of prehistoric and primitive man. Such a 
journal has long been needed, and its appearance will help 
immensely toward a better acquaintance with, and an interchange 
of, ideas in regard to a science which is now stepping into the 
foreground, and which deserves general attention. Our country 
furnishes so many opportunities for original archeological research 
that a channel of communication between those interested in this 
science has become absolutely necessary, and the American Anti- 
quarian promises to completely supply that necessity. The jour- 
nal is published quarterly, and the price of subscription is $2.00 
per annum; with the American Naturalist, $5.00 per annum. 

Tue ** Specie Rerorm Association”’ held a local convention in 
this city, beginning Thursday, January 13th, and closing on Satur- 
day, January 19th. The objects sought were well set forth in the 
St. Louis Evening Post, and it is but fair to suppose that our 
readers outside the city are acquainted alike with the objects and 
with the reputation of the gentlemen interested in this association. 
It had been our expectation to present in THe WesTERN the 
addresses, but such of these as have already been published in the 
Globe-Democrat, January 19th, are reported with a fullness which 
renders unnecessary any re-presentation. The address by Mr. W. 
T. Harris should be read by every one who wishes to have an intel- 
ligent general knowledge upon a topic likely to excite interest in 
the future. Mr. T. R. Vickroy, of this city, has devoted much suc- 
cessful effort to the subject of an English alphabet, and, as ‘“‘a 
prophet is without honor in his own county,’’ while the wise men 
came from the East, and not from the West, it is not improper to 

102 The Western. 

emphasize the fact that the value of his efforts has been directly 
recognized by such men as Professor Marsh — a name representing 
European reputation in philological studies. 

A BUSINESS CONVENTION met in St. Paul, Minnesota, on the 11th 
of October, 1877, to deliberate upon the commercial interests of 
the Mississippi Valley. The result of this deliberation has at length 
made its appearance in ‘*‘A memorial to Congress, to secure 
adequate appropriation for a prompt and thorough improvement 
of the Mississippi river,’’ signed by Joseph Brown and S. Water- 
house, chairman and secretary of the committee appointed by the 
eonvention for the purpose of drawing up the ‘‘ memorial.’’? To 
this an appendix has been added by Prof. Waterhouse. This 
document presents the most cogent arguments in favor of the pro- 
posed appropriation, setting forth the great commercial importance 
of the river in the most forcible manner, urging that the interest 
in this question is national rather than sectional, and that success- 
ful competition with European states impels us to take every 
advantage of our natural resources, particularly in regard to com- 
mercial facilities. Statistics are furnished in abundance to show 
the immense commerce of the valley, and its relation to other parts 
of this country and to other nations. The improvement of the 
mouth of the river by means of the jetties has opened to the mer- 
chants of the valley such opportunities of foreign commerce that 
to neglect them would be, if not criminal, at least foolishly weak 
and unpatriotic. 

Ar Harprine’s GALtery is a picture by a young Diisseldorf artist 
which attracts attention. It is a genre picture of the simple 
domestic kind, giving a sketch of the park, in the foreground of 
which sit a lady and child, on a garden bench, feeding some very 
** realistic ’’ ducks and geese. The admirable point in the picture, 
however, is the delicacy and refinement with which the lady’s face 
is painted. The whole shows evidence of the influence of the 
French school, while the sentiment of the picture is unmistakably 
German. A genuine Tintoretto hangs in the same gallery. It is 
owned by Mr. Tracy, himself an artist, who kindly gives us the 
opportunity of seeing one of the ‘‘ old masters.’’ Tintoretto’s 
pictures have suffered more from the ravages of time than most of 

Current Notes. 103 

the great painters’, and are scarcely known; the authenticity of 
this one, Mr. Tracy assures us, has never been doubted. 

One of Wimar’s best pictures is also temporarily at Harding’s. 
This artist’s pictures are now seldom seen outside of private 
houses. They are remarkable for the vivid impression they give 
of border-life on the plains. His subjects are generally Indians 
and buffaloes, oftenest outlined against a red evening sky, and 
are full of life and motion. The deep-set, wild eyes of his buf- 
falo family blaze from under the shaggy brown hair, and the 
**noble Indian ’’ is shown at his best estate, riding at full gallop 
across his native heath, uncorrupted by ‘‘ treaties’’ or ‘‘ reserva- 

THE WEEK OF GERMAN Opera which we have had, gave us, among 
other things, ‘‘ Tannhauser,’’ ‘‘ Lohengrin,’’ and Beethoven’s ‘‘ Fi- 
delio.’’ The performances were more than respectable, considering 
that it was a traveling troupe, and gave us a somewhat adequate 
rendering of operas which are heard nowhere so well as in Germany. 
Our notable lack of stage appointments, the economical necessity 
of employing the local orchestra, and the size of the chorus are all 
defects which we gladly overlook in the pleasure of hearing such 
music. The overture to ‘‘ Fidelio’’ was rather a sad disappointment, 
for which we were partially consoled by the excellence of the 
whole. Pappenheim sustained her difficult role creditably to the 
end, the other solo parts were well done, with scarcely an exception, 
while the concerted music was beautiful throughout. We wish 
that some one would tell us why the voices of German singers, 
especially the ladies’ voices, are harsh and often unmusical. Per- 
haps the ‘‘ music of the future’’ is destructive of beautiful singing. 
Certainly these German prima-donnas, with all their sincerity and 
evident devotion to their art, seem to us to lack the quality of 
sweetness and agreeability of voice. They are too dramatic—or, 
rather, too literally dramatic—and would gain by more reticence 
and suggestiveness. If any one will convince us that we are 
wrong in our strictures, we shall be glad to enjoy them more, and 
hope that some writer for THe Western will afford the opportunity 
by giving a page to so interesting a question. 

Sr. Louis Eventnc Post.—We hope to have occasion to cons 
gratulate the proprietor of the Evening Post upon the success of 

104 The Western. 

his enterprise ; in the meantime, we may congratulate the Evening 
Post upon its proprietor. The issue of a new paper is not ordi- 
narily a subject for comment in a magazine like THe WeEstERN, 
but there are special considerations in the case of the Evening 
Post. While our other papers also minister to the information 
of their readers, the Evening Post is specially noticeable for 
a certain manliness of its editorials—a manliness which promises 
that, while the business interests of the newspaper will not be 
slighted, its editor regards his paper as something more than ‘‘a 
commercial enterprise,’’ and does not propose to subordinate his 
convictions to considerations of profit. This quality will insure 
the paper a cordial welcome from such of its older competitors as 
value such a platform. Tact is necessary to human success, but 
it is more than doubtful whether policy can ever become a sub- 
stitute for principle. Should the Evening Post continue as it has 
begun, there need be no uncertainty as to the steadfastness of its 
friends. As a matter of local pride, we rejoice in any display of in- 
telligent energy upon the part of native St. Louisians ; as a matter of 
public interest, we congratulate newspaper readers upon the addi- 
tion to the number of journalistic directors of a gentleman whose 
education and previous experience give every promise of a success 
which shall be at once honorable to himself and of advantage to 
the patrons of his paper. 

Wasnincton University is always active in promoting inter- 
ests which the rest of the community have in common with it, 
and the public are indebted this fall alike for the ‘‘Smith Lec- 
tures’’ and for the generous accommodation offered by the trustees 
to the Society of Useful Knowledge, the Palette Club, and other 
societies, which, while invaluable spiritually to our community, are 
without funds for the proper presentation of lectures and enter- 
tainments. Prof. Snow has begun a course of ten lectures upon 
Russia and Turkey, three of which have been delivered upon the 
topics: ‘* Russia, from the Accession of Rurik to the Death of 
Ivan the Terrible, 861-1584; ’’ ‘* Russia, from Ivan the Terrible 
to the Death of Peter the Great, 1584-1725;”’’ ‘* Russia, from the 
Death of Peter I. to Alexander II.’’ Circumstances have lent 
popularity to Prof. Snow’s subject, and his lectures will well repay 
those who attend them. Prof. Hosmer has just finished a 

Current Notes. 105 

course of lectures upon German literature, and his audiences have 
lost no occasion of expressing their satisfaction. Under the 
direction of the Society of Useful Knowledge three lectures have 
already been delivered: ‘‘Archeology of Missouri,’’ by F. T. Hil- 
der, and two lectures on ‘‘ Combustion,’’ by Dr. O. A. Wall. This 
society has furthermore furnished several parlor entertainments, 
the last of which occurred on Wednesday, February 6th, at the 
house of Dr. Walker, and consisted of a luminous and instructive 
essay by Prof. Hosmer (‘‘Ethics of the Ancients’’), music by 
W. H. Pommer (Beethoven, Op. 13, 27, and 34), and remarks 
upon French painters, by Messrs. Coale and Hodges, the gallery 
of Mr. Ridgeley furnishing the illustrations. 

Sate or Pictures.—It is with pleasure that we call special 
attention to Mr. Tracy’s sale of pictures, which will occur about 
the middle of this month, at Harding’s gallery, No. 617 Olive 
treet. This mode of selling an artist’s pictures in a collection 
offers peculiar advantages to the buyer, as it enables him to select 
carefully from a number of pictures. It also gives an opportu- 
nity for thorough acquaintance with the artist, because the collec- 
tion is always on exhibition several days before the sale. In look- 
ing through the pictures which are now offered to the public, one 
is first struck with Mr. Tracy’s remarkable versatility, and the 
uniform excellence with which he handles his various subjects. He 
is a well-trained and well-educated artist, having enjoyed for years 
the best opportunities that Europe affords, and we think no one 
can see his pictures without being aware of this. We are told 
that French artists, in particular, study from Nature with patient 
fidelity, putting down on their canvas what they see—not what 
they imagine in the studio after a hasty sketch. All the rising 
artists are working in this way. The French school is not only 
remarkable for its truthfulness, but excels all others in grace and 
ease of composition. It is certain that, if one should look at a bit 
ef ‘‘nature’’ which included sky, meadows, trees, and sheep, it 
would be impossible to see the wool on the sheep’s back and the 
leaves on the trees at the same time; and it is one sort of fidelity 
to paint what the artist knows by experience must be there, and 
quite another to render a faithful account of what the artist really 
saw. There can be no doubt which is true art, all the Verboeck- 

106 The Western. 

hovens in the world to the contrary. But we shall not find such 
inane sheep or spiritless photographs of trees in Mr. Tracy’s breezy 
landscapes. The conception is always bold, the outlines strong and 
not weakened by multiplicity of detail. Whether in a wheat-field, 
a scene in the Sierras, or a genre picture, we have the same fresh, 
out-of-doors effect. 

Tue Sr. Louis Scnoot or Design was primarily started by 
a few ladies of our city, as a means of enabling women 
to earn a livelihood by occupations for which they are eminently 
fitted. The task was no simple or easy one, but required earnest 
and diligent effort, and now, after more than a year’s operation, 
the projectors of the school may look back on their labors and feel 
the satisfaction attendant on success. The departments of 
instruction in the school comprise porcelain and pottery painting, 
wood carving, drawing, water and oil painting, modeling, etc. 
As many as 200 names have been registered as pupils of the school 
at one time, and some of the work produced is of a very high 
order of merit. Notwithstanding its nominal success, the man- 
agers of the school have been compelled, from want of means, to 
restrict the course of instruction contemplated, and to comply with 
the popular demand for producing immediate results by copying 
the works of others, rather than originating new work by the 
gradual process of grounding thoroughly their pupils in the prin- 
ciples which govern design, through a long-continued and exacting 
course of study. It is only of late years.that the subjects of 
drawing and design have received the attention they deserve, but 
there are now few large cities abroad that have not their schools 
of design, fostered by government; the results are already very 
evident in the exports of those countries. England is a notable 
example of this. Before the Exhibition of 1851 her manufact- 
ures were greatly inferior in point of style and ornament to those 
of her competitors, but, stimulated by failure, she established art 
schools, such as that at South Kensington, which have enabled her 
to distance her rivals. In this country a few of our larger cities 
have schools of design, established by the munificence of citizens, 
such as the Cooper Institute of New York, the University of Cin- 
cinnati, etc. Any one who has seen the work of these schools 
must be convinced of their usefulness and their adaptability to 

Current Notes. 107 

the realities of life, beyond their mere esthetical and moral effect. 
The ability to make an intelligible drawing is now recognized as 
so important that drawing is now generally taught in our public 
schools, commencing even in the lowest grades. The St. Louis 
School of Design is a nucleus around which it is hoped may grow 
an institution which will redound to the material interests of our 

Our .iprartes do not receive the attention or the full amount of 
support to which, it seems to us, they are entitled. When one is 
promptly and properly served, he is but little inclined to consider 
the care required from those who have ministered to his pleasure ; 
and so the libraries do not receive from their members all that 
they might rightly expect. In both of our libraries we have gen- 
tlemen who overtax themselves; we have boards of direction who, 
to judge from the annual reports, as well as from our personal expe- 
rience in the libraries, do all that can fairly be expected of our 
trustees; and yet there remains, and must remain, an office for 
those who are the direct recipients of whatever benefits result from 
wise management. At some other time we shall enlarge upon the 
relation of the people to the libraries; for the present it must suf- 
fice to say that, if those who use the libraries would always bear in 
mind that librarians and directors alike are anxious to meet every 
reasonable want, they will see an easy remedy for any inconven- 
iences to which they may be subject. The Evening Post has pre- 
sented lists of recent additions to the treasury of books previously 
collected, so we shall call attention only to a single book in each 
library. The Mercantile Library is the possessor of Arber’s Tran- 
script of the Registers of the Company of Stationers of London, 
from 1554 to 1640. This is the halcyon season for careful editing 
of old English works, and to the labors of the gentlemen whose 
enthusiasm this is, the literary world owes a real debt; the many, 
without their labors, would be confined to mythological beliefs, in- 
stead of having access to faithful transcripts of originals too scarce 
to be seen outside of our greatest foreign collections. Thirty 
copies were printed on ‘‘ large paper,’’ of which four are owned in 
the United States. Two hundred and fifty copies on small paper 
formed the rest of the edition, of which one hundred and forty- 
eight have been sold, fifteen of which are owned in the United States. 

108 The Western. 

All entries relating to books, all other entries relating to the careers 
of individual printers, binders, publishers, and other members of 
the company, the various measures taken at different times to 
strengthen the monopoly—these form the contents of the four 
volumes. The interest of people at large will arise from the light 
thrown upon the literary influences of the various epochs, and the 
means of attaining accuracy in regard to dates of publication. 
Allibone, Lippincott, Morley, and Cates all stand as authorities, 
and yet the discrepancy between the dates assigned by each is 
sometimes such as to startle one. The dates of publication of the 
first works are given as follows, for the authors selected for illustra- 
tion: Buchanan, 1538, 1564, 1570, 1582; Milton, 1629, 1634; 
Addison, 1711, 1694; Thomas Arnold, 1813, 1838; E. B. Brown- 
ing, 1826, 1823; Croly, 1820, 1827; Hood, 1821, 1826. 
The Public School Library has recently received a full set of the 
Proceedings of the German Shakespeare Society — a society whose 
“Tabor is in value beyond that of any similar organization.. 
Both of these libraries are constantly increasing the valuable 
collections, and St. Louis has reason to be proud of them. 

Tue St. Lours Art Society began its meetings for the year on 
Thursday evening, December 20th, and it gave its first parlor enter- 
tainment at Dr. O’Reilly’s, Friday evening, February Ist. At the 
opening meeting were presented the articles contributed to the 
present number by Messrs. Meeker and Tracy, besides an opening 
address from Mr. Meeker, remarks by Mr. Conant, so well known 
as a painter of portraits, and an essay by W. T. Harris upon the 
frescoes of the Sistine Chapel. From the address of the presi- 
dent we cite the extracts following, for we feel that the society 
has, in the face of so many discouragements, accomplished much 
of value to the community from which it is to expect support: 
‘*The Art Society was established at atime when the art feeling 
in St. Louis was in a state of torpor, and was languishing for the 
want of some nucleus around which to gather its scattered and 
isolated forces. ‘There were no academies, no galleries, no socie- 
ties, and the poor genius of art sought in vain for a resting-place. 

So a few friends of art, believing that no city can be truly 
great without fostering and encouraging the fine arts, met, estab- 
lished this society, and have since held it together through all the 

Current Notes. 109 

vicissitudes of financial depression, steadily adding to its treasures, 
and constantly making an impress upon the public mind. It 
has already expended over $1,000 for autotypes and other works, 
and the value of its entire collection, including purchases and 
contributions, amounts to several thousand dollars. Its col- 
lection of autotypes is as complete as any in the land, and from 
it the art student and the amateur may gather most valuable 
hints of the antique in architecture and sculpture, and of the 
medizval modern. This collection has been carefully selected, so 
that the schools and the works of the masters come in groups, 
affording an opportunity for gaining that thorough art culture 
which is so necessary in our advancing civilization. In addition 
to its autotypes, the Art Society has acquired by donation valuable 
paintings and engravings, and these will constitute an excellent 
foundation for a museum of art, whenever our city is fortunate 
to find itself in possession of a building where such works can be 
displayed to the best advantage. With these facts before us, it is 
safe to assert that the Art Society has been the precursor of that 
taste for art which 4s now manifesting itself in private galleries, 
and in lesser collections throughout the city. The society has fur- 
nished many valuable and interesting lectures, besides giving to 
appreciative audiences skillful presentations of classic music.’’ It 
might be added that the labor, and; to a considerable extent, the 
contributions, having fallen upon those already heavily laden, the 
managers of this society deserve for their enterprise the support 
alike of those who take an interest in art and of those whose 
means justify their support of all that is calculated to increase the 
attractions of our city. 

The exercises at the parlor entertainment consisted of an essay 
by J. W. Tracy upon ‘‘A Practical View of Art,’’ an essay by 
J. R. Meeker upon ‘‘Imagination in Art,’’ and music by Miss 
Florence Reynolds, and Mr. Louis Hammerstein. Contributions 
of works of art were offered by Noble, Tracy, Meeker, Harney, 
Cox, Robertson, Adams, Schultze, Morse, and Chrone. The 
essays read at the recent entertainments furnish the aid required 
by those who desire to transmute a vague admiration into an 
intelligent appreciation of the work of modern and ancient artists. 

110 The Western. 

WE note with satisfaction many signs of a growing interest in 
decorative art, and, especially, in artistic house decoration—depart- 
ments of which St. Louis has, until very recently, been far too 
negligent. The Exposition at the Fair Grounds showed an 
unwonted recognition of artistic demands in the furniture exhibits 
of Messrs. Burrell & Comstock, and of the Mitchell Furniture 
Company, and Messrs. Miller & Stephenson made an attractive 
display of ceramics and decorative glass-ware. In carpets the few 
good designs were almost lost in a glaring array of patterns made 
up of sprawling curves and garlands of realistic flowers. On the 
whole, a visit to the Exposition revealed the fact that the resources 
upon which we can draw for the furnishing of our houses are 
much more ample than in former years, and that the time is, per- 
haps, not very far distant when our dealers will venture to offer 
to intending purchasers the best, as well as the worst, designs 
obtainable. The holiday season following close upon the Exposi- 
tion and Fair, two of our retail stores presented rather unusual 
attractions in Limoges faience, and a New York importer ventured 
to offer an invoice of Japanese and Chinese goods at auction. 
This sale, which was continued through three afternoons, seems to 
have been a success, for all the articles offered were sold, and 
most of them, so far as we could judge, at remunerative prices. 
Although we are not of the number of those who assert that all 
that is excellent in art decoration is to be found in Japanese work, 
we nevertheless believe that, in point of taste, its better specimens 
leave little to be desired, and this whether we consider it in the 
purely graceful. or in the wonderfully grotesque, types which have 
been developed by this remarkable race, through centuries of iso- 
lation. The influence which the art of Japan has lately exerted 
upon the decorative art of Europe has been as good as it has 
been conspicuous, yet it has scarcely begun to be felt as it is des- 
tined to be when our designers shall come to study it as it deserves. 
Fortunately for those who enjoy, and would know more of, Jap- 
anese art, it is not necessary to expend large sums of money 
for rare or elaborate articles. Even the commonest things 
made for every-day use are often as valuable, artistically, as the 
more costly, and this because the artistic sense has pervaded all 
ranks of workmen; a simple hand-screen, a fan, a tea-pot, or a 
tray or box of lacquered-ware, or of inlaid straw-work, revealing 

Current Notes. 111 

a skill in design and a purity of taste such as we may often seek 
in vain in the most pretentious work of Western nations. This 
comes of the fact that every decorator is necessarily, in some 
degree, an artist also—not a mere printer or stenciler of patterns 
in whose production he has taken no part, and in which he can 
take no interest. Of course the finest decoration is to be found 
only on the finest, and therefore most costly, work, but what we 
would chiefly insist on is that the simpler and cheaper decorations 
are often of great excellence, just as the simplest sketch may be as 
good in its way as the most elaborately finished picture—a truth 
which just now finds a good illustration in the comparison of some 
of the specimens of stone-ware which have been lately brought 
out by Mr. Doulton, with the many minutely elaborated and artist- 
ically worthless products of the National Porcelain Manufactory 
of Sévres. To those of our readers who care to know something 
about the finer Japanese porcelain and faience, we suggest the 
examination of the superb illustrations in color-printing in ‘‘Ce- 
ramie Art in Japan,’’ of which the four parts already published 
may be seen at the St. Louis Mercantile Library. 

The Western. 


MacMILLan’s — January. — I. Schliemann’s Mycene. 

CaTHoLic WorLD — January. —I. Cedmon. IL Confession in the Church 
of England. III. Christianity as an Historical Religion. 

ConTEMPORARY Review —January.—I. Disestablishment. Duke of Argyll- 
II. Government Education. { aang H: Rigg. LL. The Discoveries at. 
Mycenz and Cyprus. R. Stuart Poole. 

Lrprary TaBle— January.—I. Notes and Comments. IL. Briefs on New 
Books. ILL. Reviews. IV. The Drama. V. Music. VIL. Records of 
New Books. VII. Contents of Periodicals. 

APPLETON’S JOURNAL — February. —I. The American at Work; Among the 
Salt-makers. II. Stanley’s Voyage down the Congo. III. Rip Van 
Winkle; or, Talks with Joe Jefferson. IV. Mementoes of Mycene. V. 
Cherry Ripe. 

Fraser’s — January. — I. England and Her Colonies; a Study of England’s 
Strategic Strength. II. On Teaching English. An article in which 
Francis Newman states as the only rational objects Pure Pronunciation, 
an Ample Vocabulary, Synonyms, and a Rapid Arrangement of Words 
into Sentences. 

Poputar Science Montuity — February. —I. Evolution of Ceremonial 
Government. II. Geysers, and How Explained. Ill. Hygienic Influence 
of Plants. LV. Spontaneous Generation. 

PopucaR Science SuPPLEMENT — February. —I. The Evolution Theory, and 
its Relations to the Philosophy of Nature. Ernest Haeckel. IL The 
Liberty of Science in the Modern State. Rudolf Virchow. IIL. The 
Curiosities of Credulity. Wm. B. C arpenter. IV. The Germ-Theory of 
Disease. HH. Charlton Bastian. V. John Stuart Mill’s Philosophy 
Tested. W.Stanley Jevons. VL. ge eS Grant Allen. VIL. 
On the Teaching of — Philosophy. G. Tait. VIII. The Little 
Health of Ladies, F. Cobbe. IX. The Action of Light upon the 
Coloration of the Rs World. X, The Ancient Silk Traders’ Route 
Across Central Asia. 

wart.—Herausgegeben von Richard Fleischer. Jahrgang IL Heft 4 
contains: (A.) OxFFENTLICHES Lenen.—Politik (v. Schulte): Parlamen- 
tarische Wiinsche; Nationalékonomie und Statistik (E. Laspeyres): Die 
Ertrige der Aktiengesellschaften wihrend und nach der Schwindelzeit 
der Jahre 1871 bis 1873; Handel, Gewerbe, und Industrie (Josef Land- 
graf): Der Spielraum unserer kunstgewerblichen Bestrebungen ; Land- 
wirthschaft ( ke Birnbaum): Die Landwirthschaft und die Steuerreform. 
(B.) nee Kunst, unp Lireratur.—Staats- und Rechtswis- 

Noticeable Articles. 113 

senschaft (C. Gareis): Das Staatsrecht der Socialdemokratie; Geschichte 
H. Breszlau): Zur Geschichte der Kénigen Maria Stuart; Geographie 
tn Kirchhoff): Humboldt, Ritter, und Peschel, the drei Hauptlenker der 
neuern Erdkunde; Philosophie und Aesthetik (M. Carriere): Die Denk- 
nothwendigkeit und das Bewusztsein—Hermann Ulrici’s Stellung in der 
Philosophie der Gegenwart; Medecin und Gesundheitspflege (F. Seitz): 
Die éffentliche Gesundheitspflege und die Schulhygiene; Naturwissen- 
schaft (Karl F. Peters): Ein Blick auf den gegenwirtigen Stand der Geo- 
logie in Mitteleuropa; Bildende Kunst (Franz Reber): Zur deutschen Re- 
naissance; Musik (E. Naumann): Einwirkung der romantischen Ton- 
schule Deutschlands und die Franzosen; Literatur (A. Strodtman): Franz 
Dingelstedt. (C.) Feuilleton (C. v. Vincenti): Lady Mischoél; (Jacob v. 
Falke): Ein Wort in Sachen der deutschen Kunstindustrie; (Wilh. Jen- 
sen): ‘* Um den Kaiserstuhl,’’ Roman aus den dreiszig-jihrigen Kriege— 
Zweites Buch, Kapitel 1 und 2; (Karl Gutzkow): Deber Gymnasialre- 

Lippincort’s — February. —I. A Month in Sicily. IL. Glimpses of Sweden. 

This magazine continues to be a model of typographical art, and almost com- 
pels one to read, if only for the sake of lingering over its pages, 

ForTNIGHTLY Revirw —January.—I. Technical Education. Huxley. IL 
University Extension. Goldwin Smith. 
This magazine is a favorite, and always contains several articles of perma- 
nent interest. 

BLacKwoop’s — December. —I. Pelasgic Mycenm. 

The frequency of articles upon discoveries in Grecian antiquities indicates 
4 permanent and wide-spread interest in the results of all such researches. It 
is our purpose to notice those articles which students will need, while we omit 
mention of such as minister merely to our pleasure. 

Motion of the Tripod Nebula. IL. Descriptions of Two New .* of 
Fishes. IL. Volumetric Determinations by Chromic Acid. IV. New 
Order of Extinct Reptilia. 

This journal is, perhaps, the best representative of purely scientific research, 
and each number contains articles of the greatest interest to special students. 

Harper’s — February. — The February number offers, among other articles: 
I. Along Our Jersey Shore. Il. The Fieschi Conspiracy. LI. Joseph 
Mallord William Turner. IV. The Turkish Wars with the Hospitalers. 
V. A Glimpse at Some of Our Charities. Partl. VI. A Painter on Paint- 

This magazine continues to meet with the success which its wise adminis- 
tration deserves. In variety and general excellence it maintains an easy 

JOURNAL OF SPECULATIVE PuiLosopuy — October. — In the October issue are 
to be found: L 4 on Symbolic Art. II. Kant’s Anthropology. 

ILI. Schelling on the Method of University Study. IV. Von Hartmann 
on Darwinism. 

This journal, while originally a pioneer, only gains by comparison with its 
recent competitors. Like The American Journal of Science and Arts, it repre- 

Vol. 4, No. 1-8 

114 The Western. 

sents a special direction of effort, but, like the same journal, it most adequately 
represents that specialty. 

Litretv’s Livine Act. — In the issues since the December WESTERN went to 

ress we notice articles as follows: 1750. I. Books and Critics, IL. Law- 

ul English. 1751. I. Charlotte Bronté. IL. Humming Birds. 1752. L 

Florence and the Medici. IL. Russian Aggression, as oy Affecting 

Austria-Hungary and Turkey. 1753. L. The Ninety Years’ Agony of 
France. 1754. I. Charles Dickens’ Verse. Ll. Charles Dickens’ MSS. 

If one were to be limited to a single magazine, most of our readers would 
select the Living Age, which, during its long life, has maintained its reputation 
for « faithful discharge of the office which it took upon itself. 


Tue NINeteENtH Century — January, —I. France's Military Power in 1870 
and 1878, by Sir Garnet Wolseley. Il. Spontaneous Generation, by Pro- 
fessor Tyndall. ILL ai: a in France, by Dr. Doran. 1V. An 
Oxford Lecture, by John Ruskin. V. Absolution, by the Dean of West- 

If, as is said, The Nineteenth Century has met with support, as well as with 
approbation, the fact is creditable to the character of its readers. The num- 
bers have been very unequal in merit and in general interest, and the high 
price of subscription would promise to make the number of subscribers rela- 
tively small. The articles in the January number are of a character to interest 
those who are attracted by the names of the contributors. 

ATLANTIC — February. —I. The Cradle of the Human Race. II. Venice and 
St. Mark’s. ILI. Crude and Curious Inventions at the Centennial. IV. 
(Contributor’s Club.) Spelling Reform. 

For a long time the Atlantic divided with Harper’s the favor of readers of 
magazines; then its star waned, and now, under the auspices of its new pub- 
lishers, it is regaining its old reputation. The first article suggests doubts as 
to the received theories in respect to the migration of races, and, while its con- 
clusions are not likely to be immediately accepted, they will, at least, serve to- 
show the unstable foundations upon which popular beliefs depend. The 
second article will interest those who are beginning the history of art, and will 
furnish information which the many need. The series of articles upon Crude 
and Curious Inventions at the Centennial furnishes a valuable history of effort 
in the various directions illustrated. The present number occupies itself with 
weaving, and gives an interesting account of the various instruments and 
methods employed by various peoples. 

University MaGazinE—January.—The Dublin University Magazine has. 
dropped its prefix, and removed its office to London. The more noticeable 
contents of the January number are: I. Contemporary Portraits. Mat- 
thew Arnold. II. The Ideal University. III. The Employment of Capital 
in India. IV. A Picturesque Transformation. Julian Hawthorne. 

Matthew Arnold’s work has been such as to interest all readers in any gossip 
about him, and the present article gives us at once his biography and a read- 
able characterization. In considering the Ideal University, the writer considers. 

the defects of the universities as they exist, the insufficiency of libraries as a 

substitute, and concludes that the university ought to furnish opinions upon 

Noticeable Articles. 115 
questions political and social, dealing with truth in the abstract, and leaving to 
“ practical men”’ the adaptation of these truths to the business of ordinary life. 
The point is well taken that somebody must discharge the office of simplifying 
the complex, and presenting clearer views than those attainable by those 
whose opinions are affected by their personal interests. The writer does not 
look for ‘the scholar in politics,” as a scholar, but recognizes our great need 
of clear thinkers, whose opinions shall be used to correct the eccentricities of 
partial knowledge. The article upon the Employment of Capital in India 
gives a brief history of mercantile effort in that country, and will interest 
many. Julian Hawthorne’s story is specially noticeable as suggesting the 
works of his father. This in nowise reflects upon his independence of effort, 
but makes an additional claim upon the many to whom Nathaniel Hawthorne’s 
works have become constant studies. 

NortH American Revirw—January and February.—This old candidate for 
public favor maintains the vigor with which it began its issue as a bi- 
monthly. The contents are: I. Charles Sumner, a characterization, b 
Senator Hoar. LU. The Art of Dramatic Composition, by Dion Bouci- 
cault. III. General Amnesty, by Randolph Tucker. IV. The English 
Aristocracy, by W. E. H. Lecky. V. Reminiscences of the Civil War, by 



General Richard Taylor. VIL. Origin of the Italian Language, by W. W. 
Story. VIL. Capture of Kars and Plevna, by Geo. B. McClellan. VIL 
Curreacy Quacks and the Silver Bill, by Manton Marble. 

The article upon Senator Sumner will be found instructive, as well as inter- 
esting. Dion Boucicault has devoted so much effort to the study of dramatic 
art that the many to whom the secret of a dramatist is unknown will find in 
Boucicault’s article aid that they need. The article upon General Amnesty 
is so inferior to its companions that we can see no need for its appearance at 
the present time, and in its present company. Of the English Aristocracy, 
Mr. Lecky takes that view which makes it a Briton’s pride, and explains the 
causes to which it owes an unusual popularity with the masses. It is very 
doubtful, however, whether a populace taught to depend upon those above 
them, and uninstructed by their social superiors in a rational, free activity, will 
be largely influenced in their views by considerations such are offered by Mr. 
Lecky. The Reminiscences of the Civil War add little, if anything, to our store 
of recollections. Mr. Story is at least displaying the versatility of his powers. 
He states the three views held in regard to the origin of the Italian, and 
defends that which regards it as a lingua rustica, instead of a corrupted Latin. 
General McClellan is always entertaining when writing about sieges and cap- 
tures. Manton Marble’s article necessarily attacks the positions held by many 
upon the question of the currency, but it may well be read for the literary 
element, even by those who are indifferent or averse to his theme. 


Tue PENNSYLVANIA SCHOOL JouRNAL is the oldest educational magazine in 
the United States. It was issued in January, 1852. The second oldest is the 
Ohio Educational Monthly. It was issued January, 1852. Both papers are 
the best ones we have. , 

116 The Western. 

THe KINDERGARTEN MxsSENGER and The New Education are united. 
Miss Peabody is satisfied that Mr. Hailmann is as sound in the doctrine of 
Froebel as she, “ with intellectual insight more profound, and superior executive 
ability, and that he will never compromise the truth through fear, or for mere 
business success.” 

J. P. WickersHaM, Superintendent of Public Instruction in Pennsylvania,, 
is strongly in favor of high schools. He says ‘the positive argument of high 
schools is that they are needed to complete a system of public instruction; 
that the beneficial influence they exert upon lower schools is worth all they 
cost; and that a state has no more need of citizens who can simply read and 
write than it has of citizens who have some learning, some culture, some 
weight of character.” 

Co_iteGe Papers.— The Irving Union has changed to Student Life, and 
the editors tell us that in future it will represent the interests of the university, 
instead of being confined to those of the college proper. If they receive such 
support as to realize their ideas, many besides college students will take an 
interest in the evidences of ability and progress upon the part of those young 
men and women who are rapidly moving on to the period when they must 
advance or retard the best interests of our city. Few, relatively, of any popula- 
tion represent college training, and hence these few are under greater obliga- 
tions to show that a higher education is an aid to honest endeavor, and not, 
as is frequently said, an influence that “ unmakes a common man without 
making him an uncommon man.”” The Williams Atheneum, January 26th, is 
at hand, as is also The University Press. 

In Toe New ENGLAND JouRNAL oF Epucation, of January 10th, Mr. N. T. 
Allen “‘ disposes of” the question of military drill in our public schools. He 
cannot believe “that many prominent educators, such as are authorities regard- 
ing a true and broad development of the child’s whole nature, can be produced 
who will favor the introduction of the military drill in any secondary school, 
and for lads under eighteen years of age.” If Mr. Allen will take the trouble 
to look into the “‘ Cyclopedia of Education,”’ he will find the following: “ Mili- 
tary drill is often introduced into schools and colleges, and is found an efficient 
substitute for gymnastic exercises, or an excellent auxiliary to them. The tes- 
timony of educators is uniformly favorable to this kind of exercise in boys’ 
schools, not only as an effective means of physical culture, but as imparting 
habits of attention, order, subordination, and prompt obedience.” 

Tue Barnes’ EpvucaTIonaL Monrua cy, of January, places the following few 
“points” recently made by the leading scholars and teachers in New England 
before its readers for their consideration: The fatal mistake in our schools is 
the using of language as the original foundation of the acquiring of knowledge. 
Text-books as substitutes for things ought to be removed from our schools. 
There are quacks in the ranks of teachers; ninety-nine one-hundredths of the 
teaching consists merely in cram. Oral teaching has been practiced by those 
who know nothing about it. Girls are physically incapable of maintaining 
equal rank in classes with boys. It would be morally and legally wrong to 

alt hn 

Noticeable Articles. 117 
admit girls to the Boston Latin school, for by an organic decree of natural 
selection it has been constituted of the masculine gender. It is impossible for 
one teacher to teach both boys and girls successfully. Emulation hurts girls. 
The education given at the Boston Latin school is not worth 10 per cent. of 
that given in any secondary school in Germany. Mothers are satisfied with a 
school if their daughters are happy. 

Wuat Aan ENGLISHMAN Means BY Epucation.—The Journal of Educa- 
tion (London), of January, contains a lecture delivered to the Birmingham 
Teachers’ Association by the Rev. Mark Pattison, B. D., of which we 
quote the following sentences: “The theory of education once was, not 
that the boy learned what was useful to him in after-life, but that he was 
molded into a man and a citizen; that he was to be trained by the exercise 
of his faculties to their virtuous employment. The examination system has 
extinguished this ideal. The engrossing object, both of teacher and taught, 
now is to carry off the prizes. The barrier between the school and the world 
is broken down. School-time was a time fenced off from the world, in which 
we had leisure to form men before they were launched on a professional 
career. It is now a profession in which boys can earn, like men, profit and 
distinction. Education has no value in itself; it must be tested by its results— 
by the prizes and distinction earned. That the matter of the examination is 
literature, or mathematics, or science is a quite incidental and irrelevant 
circumstance. Neither the boy nor his parents wants the literature, or the 
mathematics, or the science. What they want is the success and the rewards. 
* = %* %* The teacher no longer stands to the pupil in the relation of an 
exemplar of wisdom and knowledge, who may correct his mental defects and 
inspire him with noble aims; he is a coach, who has to take the pupil as he is, 
] and put his qualities, whatever they may be, to the best account in the way of 
Y earning marks. He must teach him the art of holding in his memory the 
contents of certain manuals, on as many subjects as possible, for a given time— 
3. ¢., till the examination day.” 









Two Volumes, large i2mo., pp. 920. Price, $4.50, 


“ A very exhaustive work.” —Philadelphia Record. 

“It certainly ranks with the works of Gervinus and Hudson.”— The Western. 


“ An earnest attempt to fix the intellectual and ethical laws which governed the 
poet in his labor.’’—New York Tribune. 

**An original study of Shakespeare. Mr. Snider holds his ground with good 
nerve and ability.’’—St. Louis Republican, 

“ Neither Goethe nor Schlegel has shown so convincingly how the poet fashioned 
his marvelous works.”—RICHARD SOULE. 

“The production of a thoughtful, scholarly, and earnest mind. * * * The work 
is able, suggestive, and interesting.”"—Boston Advertiser. 

“Mr. Snider's work is, indeed, a valuable contribution to Shakespearian literature, 
and will be found of great use to students of the wonderful master.”"— Boston Globe. 

‘*Mr. Snider has written a very scholarly and ingenious work, of great interest to 
Shakespeare students, whether his views be adopted or not. Prot. JAMES K, 

“‘The work bears evident marks of the faithful student of Shakespeare, and of a 
mind fitted for the difficult task by more than ordinary culture and attainments.”— 
Chicago Inter- Ocean. 

“The purpose and movement of each play is defined in an altogether fresh and 
familiar way. We do not know a writer on Shakespeare who is more clear, direct, 
and readable than Mr. Snider.’’—Boston Commonwealth. 

“Works of this sort create epoc hs in the history of literary criticism. Fitly 
entitled a “System of Shakespeare’s Dramas,” itis much more—it is an exposition 
of the principles of art and ethics.”—KRev. J. C. LEARNED. 

““Mr. Snider’s work is not disfigured by any fine-spun or moonshiny theories, but is 
marked throughout by strong common sense, as well as by a high grade of intelli- 
gence and a remarkable thoroughness of study.’’—St. Louis Times. 

“The greatest greatness of Shakespeare we had not seen before Mr. Snider enabled 
us to see it. I think his work will be recognized as a discovery. The criticism on 
Hamlet is certainly the best that has been written.’’—Rev. R. A. HOLLAND. 

“Each play, in turn, is treated in detail, clearing up much that critics have found 
obscure, and discovering and compelling the recognition of the plan upon which 
the poet, whether consciously or unconsciously, worked.”—Dr. JOHN GREEN. 

“I congratulate Mr. Snider upon the novel and striking line of thought he has hit 
upon. It is something to ascend from the minute criticism of words and letters to 
the grand generalizations which must, even if unconsciously, have shaped the crea- 
= of the master-mind of modern literature.”—Hon. W. F. CooPeER, Nashville, 


“Mr. Snider has treated his author and his works from a stand-point that must be 
accorded originality. * * * The work has been done carefully and thoughtfully 
and the author has displayed a critical acumen and power of analysis which shalb 
demand for him in the future an audience for whatever he may write. The book is 
not diffuse, and is well adapted for general reading.”"—Boston Times. [ } 




“To a system of this kind neither too great nor too little value must be ascribed. If we make 
it a substitute for the beautiful poetic form of which it is hardly more than a skeleton, we mis- 
apply it totally. Criticism is not poetry, and cannot take the place of poetry. * * * Poetry 

two sides—a and an 1; it is not in itself a philosophy, but, without 
a oe it is in danger of being turned into a temple of the grossest passions. 

“*It will doubtless be disagreeable to some very ardent admirers of the poet to descend into 
the depths of his spiritual being, and there behold the foundation of his art. They say that his 
procedure is unconscious and instinctive ; why, then, foist upon him a system? So is the pro- 
cedure of nature unconscious; still, it is the great spirit vocation of our age to discover 
mature’s law. Take Shakespeare merely as a wonderful phenomencn of nature, is it not reason- 
able—indeed, is it not necessary—to seek for his law also? Be assured the human mind enjo' 
m0 repose in ignorance. Then, too, <s (. — was not the unconscious baby that babies w ar 
make him out. He thought; he plann he mostly knew what he was doing. It is an 
absurdity to declare that, in a world where thought alone is greatness, its greatest man was an 

unthinking prodigy.” 

“ As a critically intelligent study of Shakespeare’s dramas it will make its own appeal to the 

literary and dramatic world, and will make it so forcibly that it is sure to be heard. 
As the writer has thoroughly studied his subject, so must a reader study the work, %. a tin 
giance will give no idea of the fruity and meaty matter that is contained in these two neat and 
valuable volumes. Prof. Snider’s work is not disfigured by any fine-spun or moonshine the- 
ories, but is marked throughout by strong common sense, as well as by a high grade of intelli- 
gence and a remarkable thoroughness of study.”’"—S¢t. Louis Times. 

It is only just to say that it certainly ranks with the works of Gervinus and Hudson, whose 
efforts also belong to the philosophic school, Those who find it to their interest to use any 
Shak ian y, except such as are wholly oecupied with textual or rhetorical criti- 
cism, will do themselves in — if they fail to acquaint themselves with Mr. Snider’s work.— 

. MorGan, in The Western. 

Mr. Snider opens | each Lag 4 as from within, and shows the life of it. That life is Reason— 
which p f he did not possess it; and its processes are manifest in every 
act, scene, and character, pared that they have been pointed out. The greatest greatness of 
Shakespeare we had not seen before Mr. Snider enabled us to see it. I think his work will be 
recognized as a discovery. ‘The criticism on Hamlet is certainly the best that has been 
written.—Rev. R. A. HoLranp. 

A valuable contribution to Shakesp —St. Louis Kepudblican. 

I have been much interested in a + hae Mr. Snider’s volumes, and congratulate him 
upon the novel and striking line of thought he “eh hit upon in the ever-growing mass of Shake- 
spearian literature. It is something to ascend from the minute criticism of words and letters to 
the grand generalization which must, even if unconsciously, have shaped the creations of the 
master-mind of modern literature. —Hon. W. F. Coorsr, Nashville, Tenn. 

Mr. Snider has written a very scholarly and he yy work, of great interest to Shakespeare 
students, whether his views be adopted or not.—Prof James K OSMER. 

Works of this sort create epochs in the history of literary criticism. Fitly entitled a ‘‘ Sys- 
tem of Shakespeare’s Dramas,”’ it is much more—it is an exposition of the principles of art 
and ethics. No thoughtful reader, it seems tome, though failing to comprehend, or even 
rejecting, the profou nd theory of the author, can withhold from him thanks for a most ingen« 
ious classification, and a most acute analysis of the immortal plays.—Rev. J. C. Learnzp. 

x predict for ita permanent place in English literature —Dr. Wm. T. Harris, in Fournad 

lative Philosophy. 
¢ work is handsomely bound in cloth. 
K ‘or sale by booksellers, and mailed on receipt of price by 

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The most successful Travesty of the decade. Originally performed before the 
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“ Acknowledged by even blasé theater-goers to be the best and most humorous 
production given in this city for a long time.’’"—St. Louis Republican. 

Admirably adapted to amateur theatricals, and very witty and humorous reading 
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A Comedy in three acts. Translated from the German of Benedix, by Annie 
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Hegel's First Principle, translated, and ae E: with Introduction 
and Explanatory Notes, by Wm. T. Harris ...... .3$ @ 
Rosenkranz’s Pedagogics as a System, or ‘the Philosophy, ‘ot 
Education, translated by AnnaC. Brackett ..... .....Paper,$1; Muslin, 1.50 
Feur Lectures ou the Philosophy of Law, by J. Hutchison eae. 
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Introduction to Speculative Philosophy and Legie, by A. ¥v era, 
Professor of Philosophy in the University of Naples 

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By an Experienced Merchant, “who has been through the mill.”” This little 
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Morgan’s Toplest Shakeepeariane, 

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‘Messrs. G. I. JONES’ « ©O. beg to announce that they will here- 
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OF Se 
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Retains the exclusive editorial charge and control,.as heretofore. It is unnecessary 
to speak of his world-wide reputation for learning and ability in all departments of 
intellectual activity, or of his extraordinary exéeutive ability in the responsible 
positions he holds. The increasing circulation of the JOURNAL brings with it a cor- 
responding increase of the petty details of the publishers’ business; to relieve Dr. 
HARRIS of this the business of publication has been transferred to the undersigned. 

Each number of the Journat wil} contain 112 pages, the sizé to which it was 
inéreased last year. It will compare favorably in typographical and mechanical 
execution with any periodical published in this country. The Journat is intended 
asavehicle for such translations, commentaries, and original articles as will best 
a, “OY the interests of Speculative Philosophy in all its departments. 

e eleven volumes already published can he obtained of the editor or the pub- 
lishers at $2.00 per volume in numbers, or $3.00 per volume bound in muslin. In 
order to be able to supply all ofders, Nos. I, 11, and XIV hiave been reprinted. 

Vels. I and II, buund in one yolame ip muslin, will be sent postpaid by-mail for $5.00. 

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A set of the JOURNAL constitutes, in some measure, a library of philosophy in 
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Hegel, Goethe, Rosenkranz, Winckelmann S¢hopenhauer, Michelet, Yon Hartmann, 
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We beg to assure those Who suppose that the articles are beyond the comprehen- 
sion of all except special students of piilosephy that, while many articles are 
exceedingly abstruse, there are Many which treat of matters of every-day concern 
in an entirely original and startling vein. 

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