Western January-February 1878: Vol 4 Iss 1

New Serres. |] [Vou. IV, No: 1
JANUARY--FEBRUARY, 1878.
THE WESTERN.

H. H. MORGAN, Epiror.

GROUNDS FOR AMERICAN PATRIOTISM.—H. H. aoe

MAKARIA, Act V.—S. Sterne, -. ‘

FREDERICK BARBAROSSA—A. E. Tibeoger,

THE POET'S FABLE.—M. H. Benton, ‘

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

MARSHALL’S HEAD OF CHRIST.—E. 8. Morgan,

TRANGLATIONS.—¥. ER. Marvin,

MENDELSSOHN’S SONG OF PRAISE. we T. Barris,

THE CLIFF.—L.J. Block, . A

SOME ACCOUNT OF THE OLD AND NEW MASTERS—J. .s
Meeker,

THE FRINGIFLE OF BEAUTY as UNDERSTOOD BY THE
ANCIENT SCULPTORS.—Jno. M. “a - 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.

NOTICEABLE ARTICLES IN THE MAGAZINES AND REVIEWS,

L
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mm.
Iv.
v.
VI.
Vu.
vou.
rx.
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XL
xml.
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ST. LOUIS:
G. I, JONES: AND COMPANY.
£878.
*

PROSPECTUS OF “THE WESTERN.” °

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.

THE WESTERN.

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

GROUNDS FOR AMERICAN PATRIOTISM.

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
soul.

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,
sphere.

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

heme

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

RR ah RIAL

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

vet

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

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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-
ning.is 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

99

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
responsibility.

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

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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

Makaria.

MAKARIA.

A PLAY IN FIVE ACTS.

8. STERNE.

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.

ACT V.

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,

Makaria.

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
rocks.)
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.
Dying.)
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!

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Makaria.

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!

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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

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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 ?

FREDERICK BARBAROSSA.

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

26

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

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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
rivals.

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

Pees

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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

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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-

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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.”

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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
successors.

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.

MINNESONG BY MARKGRAVE VON REGENSBURG.

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
proved,

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.

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MINNESONGS BY DIETMAR VON EST.
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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!

IL.

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 !””

Ill.

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.”

MINNESONGS BY HENRY VON VELDECKE.
Zz

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!

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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.

Il.

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?

IV.

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.

BY MYRON

The Western.

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

THE POET’S FABLE.

B. BENTON.

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.

THE RELATION OF A HIGH SCHOOL TO THE
SCHOOL SYSTEM.

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

48

The Western.

decide whether or not its support is considered a profitable

transaction.

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

regarded.

‘* 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.
here.

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.

MARSHALL'S HEAD OF CHRIST.

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
good.”’

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.

Translations.

TRANSLATIONS.

BY FREDERIC R. MARVIN.

L
AD MINISTRUM.

FROMTHE LATIN OF HORACE, LIBER I, ODE 38.

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.

IL.
TO A MAIDEN.
ALTERED FROM THE GREKK OF ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS.
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.

IIL.
TRUTH.

FROM THE GREEK OF SAPPHO.

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.

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IV.
THE BOOK OF PYMANDER.
FROM TRISMEGISTUS.

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.

Vv.
FROM THE PERSIAN.

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

So longs my soul for Thee,
O Holy One.

MENDELSSOHN’S “SONG OF PRAISE.”

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-
lewski.

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

hy

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
«*Raven.’’

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
goodness.”

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
salvation.’

*¢ 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.

THE CLIFF.

BY LEWIS J. BLOCK.

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 !

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SOME ACCOUNTS OF OLD AND NEW MASTERS.

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-
clusion.

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-
tions.

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
surprise.

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
reached.

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.

J. R. MEEKER.

THE PRINCIPLE OF BEAUTY AS UNDERSTOOD BY
THE ANCIENT SCULPTORS.

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
value.

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.

BOOK REVIEWS.

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.
Eprror.

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.

SELECTIONS FOR THE PRACTICE OF STUDENTS IN THE REPORTING
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.
EpiTor.

‘CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE History oF MeEpicaL EpucaTION AND
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.

Eprror.

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
Writings.

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
1877.

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

a.

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.
EpiTor.

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
sister.

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
character.

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
pleasure.

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
between.

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
literature.

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.

Eprror.

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.

9?

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.

CURRENT NOTES.

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-
tions.”’

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
city.

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.

NOTICEABLE ARTICLES IN THE MAGAZINES AND
REVIEWS.

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.

DevutscHe REVUE UEBER DAS GESAMMTE NATIONALE LEBEN DER GEGEN-
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-
form.

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.

AMERICAN JOURNAL OF ScIENCE AND ARTS — January.—I. On the Proper
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-
ing.

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

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-
minster.

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

WwW

y

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.

EDUCATIONAL MAGAZINES.

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.”

~y

ah
»

—

BECO Tit SUSLISA sD.

SYSTEM

or

SHAKESPEARE 'S DRAMAS.

By DENTON J. SNIDER.

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

WHAT IS SAID OF IT.

“ A very exhaustive work.” —Philadelphia Record.

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

“WE RANK THIS WORK OF MR, SNIDER AMONG THE GREAT WORKS OF LITERARY
CRITICISM.” —Dr. WM. T. HARRIS.

“ 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,
HosMER.

“‘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,

enn.

“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. [ }
OVER.

RECENTLY PUBLISHED.

SYSTEM

SHAKESPEARE’S DRAMAS.

“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.”
WHAT 18 SAID OF IT.

“ 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.

WE RANK THIS WORK OF MR. SNIDER _AMONG THE GREAT WORKS OF LITERARY CRITICISM,
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

c.1. JONES & CO.,
LAW AND GENERAL PUBLISHERS,
208 South Fourth St., ST. LOUIS, MO.

RECENT MISCELLANEOUS PUBLICATIONS.

TWO MOST SUCCESSFUL PLAYS.
THIRD EDITION OF

“ROMEO AND JULIET.”

The most successful Travesty of the decade. Originally performed before the
University Club of St. Louis, with extraordinary success. It has been performed in
various parts of the country, and always with exceptional pecuniary and artistic
success.

“ 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
for a leisure hour. Price, 50 cents.

iS LYING EASY ?

A Comedy in three acts. Translated from the German of Benedix, by Annie
Wall. This is one of the cleverest plays of the ablest of the German playwrights.
The translation is admirably done. Suited to parlor and amateur theatricals. Price,
50 cents.

PHILOSOPHICAL.

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.
LL. D., author of ‘The Secret of Hegel” .. ..
Introduction to Speculative Philosophy and Legie, by A. ¥v era,
Professor of Philosophy in the University of Naples

FOR BUSINESS MEN.
Creditors, Embarrassed Merchants, and Business Men.

By an Experienced Merchant, “who has been through the mill.”” This little
book contains more sound sense concerning the treatment of debtors by creditors,
and the proper course for business men to pursue when in financial difficulties, than
has previously been put into book form. 84 pages. Price, 2 cents.

IN PRESS—SOON READY:
Morgan’s Toplest Shakeepeariane,

Any of the above mailed on receipt of price by

CG. 1. JONES & fO.,
LAW AND tenwzrat PUBLISHERS,
No. 208 S. Fourth Street, ST. LOUIS.

‘Messrs. G. I. JONES’ « ©O. beg to announce that they will here-
after publish

THE JOURNAL

Be

OF Se
a al

SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.

Dr. WM. T. HARRIS

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.

Vols. It, IV, V, VI, Vil, VET, TX, X, XI, im muslin, $3.00 each. Back volumes
(unbound) may be had at $2.00 8 volume.

A set of the JOURNAL constitutes, in some measure, a library of philosophy in
itself, and each year it becomes more complete: ‘The widest possible range of sub-
jects is treated. Translations from Leifuitz, Descartes, Kant, Fichte, Schelling,
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-
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exceedingly abstruse, there are Many which treat of matters of every-day concern
in an entirely original and startling vein.

Published Quarterly, at the Subseription Price of $3.00 per an-
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The next (January) numbér commence + Vol. XI. “THE Western” and Jour-
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