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him "un grand peintre," and placed him high both as a man and as an artist. A fortnight later, I met Vladimir Svertschkoff; I spoke to him about Ivanoff, and mentioned what Botkin had said. Svertschkoff then criticised the picture most severely and pulled Ivanoff down from the pedestal upon which Botkin's reverence for him had placed him, and where my Russian cicerone had fixed him. All who know Svertschkoff know that his art-terms, gathered from the studios of Munich, Paris, and Florence, need not be taken very literally, but, nevertheless, when he had finished, not much of “ notre célébre compatriote " was left.

He fell back upon the judgment of Alexander Herzen, Turgenieff, the St. Petersburg Academy, etc., and, as far as I remember, he was the first who called Ivanoff an art-nihilist. As I have had opportunity to examine Ivanoff's picture for months, I have myself, of course, formed an opinion about it, free and unbiased by other people's judgment.

About some works of art, one can almost say with Lessing,

Wer wird nicht einen Klopstock loben,
Doch wird ihn jeder lesen? Nein!
Wir wollen weniger erhoben

Und fleissiger gelesen sein.

It is a curious phenomenon that a picture, which has really played no part, has created a large literature. That has been the case with Alexander Ivanoff's painting "Christ Before the People." Russia's most prominent literary men, Gogol, Herzen, Turgenieff, Pogodin, and Chomjäkoff have written about it. All this is sufficient reason for a study of Ivanoff, his work, and his panegyrists.

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Ivanoff lived in Rome from 1830 to 1858, and was known as Signor Alessandro everywhere. He was born in St. Petersburg 1806, and entered the imperial art-academy very early, so early, that his general education suffered thereby. In his own opinion, he was artist "by the grace of God," therefore he did not need an education like other people; it might even be hurtful to him. His exterior expressed his romantic ideas; his hair grew long and he always wore a Calabrian hat. To him applied very well what Carl Plageman said about himself: "My earthly hat rests upon that which is without value." Ivan Turgenieff, who made his acquaintance in 1857, has in his letters given many fine characteristics of him. 'Ivanoff has become," he wrote, a peculiar man on account of his long separation from the world, from his constant self-introspection and exclusive concentration of thought and will upon a single purpose. There is something mystical and yet childish, something grand and yet mean, in him and his appearance. He seems open and free, yet so unapproachable. When we first met, he seemed suspicious, retired, and gloomy, but when he became acquainted with me and Botkin, he "opened up," grew soft and mellow, and showed a lively nature. He could laugh or fall into ecstasies over trifles, and unexpected words could throw him into a serious mood, even frighten him. At times he displayed a matured mind, perfectly able to express itself. Like most of the Russian art-students he was ignorant in general educational matters, but he improved himself constantly. He studied the antique world, Assyriology in particular, with great ardor and perseverance. He knew the Bible, the Gospels particularly, by heart. His plan for the restoration of Solomon's Temple, prepared upon the scanty Biblical records, was thoughtful, learned, and thoroughly worked out. He took no part in literature and politics; his whole interest centered upon art, ethics, and philosophy. Once, a friend sent him a volume of well-drawn caricatures; while looking thoughtfully at them, he suddenly arose, exclaiming: "Christ, never lied!" and laid the book aside.

At the time Turgenieff met Ivanoff, his countrymen considered Ivanoff the Russian artist “par excellence." They called him thus, though but few had actually seen his celebrated picture. He painted and repainted, studied and restudied for

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twenty-seven years, yet none even of the narrow circle of his friends had seen his masterwork. He was famous even before 1830, when he painted in St. Petersburg and did but poor work. A study of Ivanoff's life will explain these contradictions and peculiarities.

Ivanoff's early years had been passed in poverty and he had seen nothing of art but that in the collection of the Eremitage. His friends and teachers, knowing that his opportunities of instruction had been few, ascribed his knowledge of art to extraneous sources-to inspiration. It is for that reason that so mucli respect and reverence was paid him. Whatever we may think of his inspiration, he himself either doubted it or was ignorant of it, for in Rome he asked Thorwaldsen "to which line of art he (Ivanoff) ought to devote himself." It is not known what the master answered. At this time German Romanticism flourished. He joined the "Isidorus Brotherhood," whose purpose was, as Atterbom stated, “to live, to work, and to believe as the old mediæval art-guild brothers did, with their piety, earnestness, self-sacrifice, and untrammeled views of nature." Ivanoff's paintings from this time show the strange influence of these art-Nazarenes, but he soon discovered the unnaturalness of the brethren, and left them. Immediately after his arrival in Rome he began his great work, Christ Before the People."

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INTER

A COSMOPOLITAN LANGUAGE.
ITS PROSPECTS AND PRACTICABILITY.

MALTUS QUESTELL HOLYOAke. Cosmopolitan, New York, November. NTERNATIONALISM is on the increase, and as a consequence international conferences have been held on numerous and important subjects. Foremost, however, among the means of promoting the brotherhood of nations, and accelerating the arrival of the golden time when the world will be as one country, is the establishment of a language for the common use of nations.

There are three ways of reversing “the unfortunate arrangement" of the Tower of Babel, as Lord Rosebery termed it. The methods are, by the revival of a dead language, the utilization of a living language, or the invention of a new language. Among scholars, Latin really held the place of a universal language in a past age, and its adoption again would offend the prejudices of no nation. Among living languages, French, which has been adopted many years as the language of diplomacy, and which is already taught in so many countries, is a strong candidate for universal use. Italian is a beautiful and euphonious language, and English has undeniable claims, being already the spoken language of 100,000,000 of people; it is spreading among the 260,000,000 people of Hindostan, and possesses many philological merits. It is, moreover, the connecting link between the Gothic and Romanic languages. English, however, presents many difficulties to the student.

A universal language has always been a pet idea of philologists in bygone times. Passing by the numerous systems of shorthand, Bishop Wilkins's "Essay Towards a Real Character and a Philosophical Language" was chief among the seventeenth-century attempts to promote a common language. Since then, innumerable projects have faded into the mists of obscurity.

Among the more recent efforts to realize the aspirations for the establishment of a universal language is that of Herr Schleyer, whose Volapük, a language he invented for universal

commercial use, was first published in 1880. There are now about a thousand teachers, and over two hundred societies for its extension. Complete introductions to it have have been published in every European language, including Turkish and Hungarian. Its grammar has been published in twenty-one languages, and the last edition of its dictionary contains over twenty thousand words. It is considered to fulfill in a remarkable degree the requirements of a universal language, and it is claimed that it numbers several hundred thousand adherents. But while Volapük is the most successful so far of all attempts to provide a cosmopolitan tongue, its universal introduction is impracticable.

The celebrated John Horne Tooke considered that the languages which are commonly used throughout the world were much more simple, easy, and philosophical than any plan that had at that time been imagined or proposed for the establishment of a common tongue. It was with some such idea that in 1884 I ventured to suggest a solution of the international language difficulty which it may not be out of place to mention here. Conceiving that the great strides that education has made during recent times among civilized nations, particularly the millions spent upon State schools, had brought the project of an international language within the regions of practicability, I proposed the transformation of one of the existing languages into a language for universal use by the simple expedient of holding a conference of the ministers of education of all nations who should agree upon one language to be taught (in addition to the native language of each country) in all schools, such selected language to be the same in all countries. If English were the language decided upon, it would not be necessary for an additional language to be taught in Englishspeaking countries. This suggestion was submitted to, and considered by, the late John Bright, who wrote to me: " The time may come for an attempt to put it in practice, but it is not yet come. English will be the language of the great majority, if we exclude the Chinese." He feared, however, that the members of a conference would never agree on the language to be adopted. A similar view was expressed by the late Mr. Matthew Arnold, who wrote: "I do not think a conference will ever establish an international language." Professor Max Müller has frequently advocated the cause of an international language in his lectures, but he believes "it is one of those reforms which we must leave the next century to carry." The difficulties in the way of the adoption of an international language are assuredly great, and the objections many; but the benefits to be derived are correspondingly important. The formation of an association working to that end would do much to accelerate its realization. It would increase the unity of the nations, and promote the peace of the universe.

SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY.

WHAT WE REALLY KNOW ABOUT MARS. EDWARD S. HOLDEN.

THE

Forum, New York, November.

HE cbject of the present paper is to present some of the views which have been advanced to explain the various phenomena seen on Mars, and I have selected three generalizations which all deserve attention. The first is by M. Flammarion, who has himself made a telescopic study of the planet. The next is by Mr. Brett, a distinguished artist of London. It is also founded on telescopic study. The last is by Professor Schaeberle, of the Lick Observatory, who has observed the planet under the best conditions at Mount Hamilton.

In the second volume of the Bulletin" of the Astronomical Society of France, M. Flammarion has made an elaborate study of the drawings of Mars from 1659 to 1888, and at the

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close of this examination he feels authorized to draw these conclusions as established facts:

There are markings on the surface of Mars which in all probability represent seas. lakes, regions of water of various kinds. These markings are permanent: they are seen to-day in the same regions where they were observed in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. They are not athmospheric products, then, like the markings on Jupiter. While they are permanent, they are, however, not invariable. They change both in dimensions and in depth of tone in different years, and without doubt at different times of the seasons' of Mars. There are some regions which are specially variable. These appear to hold a middle place between continents and seas, and to be marshy lands, which are, in turn, elevated above and submerged beneath a thin layer of water. The continents of Mars appear to be flat and subject to inundations in nearly all their extent The northern hemisphere is more elevated than the southern; the seas are chiefly in the latter, and they do not appear to be deep. The evaporation on Mars is without doubt rapid and considerable. Water is perhaps not the only agent concerned in the changes on Mars. The general order of things is very different on Mars and on our earth.

In 1889, I wrote concerning the conclusions of M. Flammarion, just given, that " they all depend on the certainly not improbable assumption that the darker markings upon Mars represent bodies of water."

I believe that M. Flammarion is still satisfied that the dark markings on Mars can be best explained by supposing them to be water. The observations which I have been able to make. since 1889, seem to me to render this conclusion even more doubtful than I then considered it.

A paper by Mr. John Brett, F.R.A.S., which appeared so long ago as 1877, has not, I think received the attention it deserves. It is worth summarizing here in order to accentuate the very wide difference of views which may be held by observers. Mr. Brett begins by pointing out that Mars does not show the same delicacy of detail as Jupiter, for example, under like conditions, and he attributes to Mars on this account an atmosphere of coniderable opacity. As the details of the surface generally vanish before they come to the edge, while they are best seen at the centre, and as the borders of the planet are the brightest, his conclusion is that the markings themselves lie beneath a very dense atmosphere. Mr. Brett goes on to say that as the chief topographical features on Mars are permanent, the body of the planet must be solid. There are few or no clouds on Mars. This fact alone is fatal to the theory that the "land and "water on Mars act as on the earth. A whole opposition of Mars may pass, and no changes in its atmosphere be made out. It is certain, from spectroscopic observation, that watery vapor exists in the atmosphere of Mars, but it is not certain that it forms clouds, and as watery vapor must form clouds if the temperature is cool enough, the absence of clouds would upset the theory of snow-caps at the poles. Mr. Brett thinks they are clouds in the higher and colder regions of the atmosphere. The dark patches near them he supposes to be their shadows. Finally he concludes that the poles are the only regions cool enough to condense the invisible water-vapor into visible clouds.

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Professor Schaeberle says: "Schiaparelli, Flammarion, and observers of Mars in general, agree in calling the darker area of Mars water, and the brighter portions land. My own observations of 1890 and 1892 have led to just the opposite conclusion." "The so-called canals' in the red areas," says Professor Schaeberle, seem to be continuations of the long, darker streaks in the darker areas. The fainter markings called 'canals' would correspond to the ridges of mountain-chains which are almost wholly immersed in water, and the doubling of the canals would correspond to parallel ridges of which our earth furnishes many examples." Professor Schaeberle advances numerous reasons to show that the dark areas of Mars are more likely to be land than water.

Considering this wide diversity of opinion among competent observers, it appears to me that the wise course is to reserve judgment and strive for more light.

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Of all the interesting phenomena which fall under this head, the pseudo sensations of sight are the most numerous. present paper deals with one form of pseudo-photesthesia, to wit, that large class of phenomena in which colors are called up in the mind of the subject when certain letters or words are spoken, or seen in print or writing. The term color condition does not cover all the cases, for there are instances in which individuals have these pseudo sensations of color when they see words, but not when they hear them spoken.

The term we choose as a sort of label for this interesting class of phenomena is that of pseudo-" chromesthesia." Pseudo-chromesthesia is that peculiar faculty of association of the sensorial perceptions, by means of which any primary sensation or even a purely psychical process can evoke, in the case of certain persons, a false visual sensation of color, constant in the case of the same stimulus with the same person. The phenomena may be of optical origin, i. e., the efficient cause may come through the eye, or memory image of a visual sensation, of the graphical forms of a letter, a number, a geographical figure. They are of acoustic origin when the efficient cause passes through the ear, or is a memory image associated with that organ. Thus every noise, every sound, perceived objectively or evoked mentally, can arouse those sensations of color. This is especially noticeable in the case of the human voice.

Goethe was one of the very first to make reference to this subject which he does in his "Theory of Colors" (1890). The first case of pseudo-chromesthesia to find a place in medical journals, is that detailed by Dr. George Sachs. His subject was an Albino who associated colors with vowels, consonants, musical notes, sounds of instruments, figures, names of cities, days of the week, dates, epochs of history, and phases of human life.

Carnaz and others regarded the phenomena as pathological, and due to some optical lesion. The first to controvert this view was Perrond (1863). He asserted that it was neither a pathological condition nor depending on material lesion, nor constituting an illusion nor hallucination.

Chabaleer regarded it as a light confusion of ideas, a sort of psychic perversion, "an illusion compatible with reason." Another theory is that of anastomosis between two cortical centres or tangling of fibres; or the sensory stimulus of one sensory nerve has been assumed to reach another sensory nerve in the course to the brain, and thus reach another cortical centre than that for which it was intended. Others reject physiological explanations, and apply the law of association of ideas, and they do it with a vengeance.

In the majority of cases it seems to attach itself to a special condition of the nervous system as well as to a well-developed faculty of the imagination. Very rarely is there any defect of the eye or ear. Then heredity plays an important part. It is very infrequent that a single member of a family experiences pseudo-chromosthesic impressions. The impressions of color become more intense, vivid, and striking when the person is fatigued. se

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To us it seems plain that the theory of psychic association cannot account for all the facts, although it may afford a satis

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factory explanation in a few cases. In no case would we feel warranted, on the basis of our present knowledge in attributing these phenomena to the retinal elements-to the rods and cones-though there is a temptation to do so, especially in those cases where similar graphic forms produce similar color impressions. It may be that in some cases the phenomena could be rightly attributed to the crossing of certain afferent or sensory fibres, but we are inclined to attribute the majority of cases to the cerebral centres themselves. We might even say that the majority of those cases regarded as purely psychic" can, in the last analysis, be traced to causes most intimately related to the cerebral centres themselves. In the greater per cent. of cases the pseudo-chromesthesic phenomena arise from some sort of cerebral work which is the outcome of the close relation of the cortical centres, which are connected by numerous associational fibres, notably the visual and auditory centres. Whether this is done by anastomosis of fibres, or irradiation, or by direct stimulus of the fibres of association, it is evident that, in some cases at least, it takes place within the centres themselves. It is a notable fact that the weaker the color impressions the more "psychic" and "ideal" it seems.

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THE ORIGIN OF PETROLEUM. Chambers's Journal, London, October. NYTHING that adds to our knowledge of coal, or throws any light on the origin of the vast subterranean stores of petroleum and natural gas which have proved of such incalculable service to man, must be received with universal interest. A paper read by Professor Watson Smith at a meeting of the London section of the Society of Chemical industry does both. It deals with the results of his experiments on a highly bituminous Japanese coal, and the conclusions deducible from them.

The coal is produced from a mine at Miike in the province of Chokugo, in Kiu Shin, a large island in the southwestern extremity of the Japanese Empire. The deposit was known four hundred years ago, but was not worked until 1873, after the Government had bought it at the request of its private proprietors. In 1885, a new shaft had been sunk to a depth of two hundred and forty feet, and the output increased to twelve hundred tons a day, and in 1888 Mitsi bought the mine for £750,000. The coal beds are supposed to cover an area of 3,758 acres, containing some 85,444,000 tons of the mineral. The seam averages fully eight feet thick, is of uniformly excellent quality throughout, and probably the best coal in Japan. The peculiarity of this Japanese coal is its large proportion of bitumen. Professor Watson found that it contains no less than ten per cent. The highest he was able to extract, even from cannel coal, was only a little over one per cent. ten per cent., therefore, is an enormous proportion. As might be expected, the Miike coal is an excellent coal for gas-making, giving over 11,000 cubic feet of 23.4 candle-power gas per ton. The ashes are calcareous, showing that the trees grew on limestone soil, and it is assumed that they must have been of an unusually resinous character.

This

A large quantity of this bitumen was extracted and fractionally distilled-that is, the heat was kept constantly at a particular temperature until nothing more distilled over, then raised fifty degrees and kept there until the renewed distillation against ceased; and so on. The first fraction smelt exactly like benzoline or petroleum naphtha; the next fraction bore the unmistakable odor of petroleum lamp oil; the next. on cooling, deposited paraffine scale abundantly, and the oil drained off was similar to the lubricating oils obtained from American petroleum.

The question at once arises: could this petroleum-like substance formed in the coal, have any bearing on the origin of petroleum? Professor Watson Smith replies; We have here a coal with the petroleum in it, which can be distilled off at a

moderately high temperature. Supposing the Miike coal uniform throughout, there is distributed though it 8,544,000 tons of bitumen capable of yielding some 1,800,000 tons of thick petroleum oil, and 427,000 tons of solid paraffine wax.

The next step the investigator proposes to take is to distil off the oil from a considerable quantity of the coal, and see what the residual coal is like. Probably a residue resembling anthracite, a kind of coal converted almost into coke by natural agencies will be left behind. Contiguous to the petroleum deposits of Pennsylvania and Eastern Ohio, but now separate by a branch of the Alleghanies which may have been upheaved more recently than the deposits, are vast beds of anthracite coal which form by far the most important coal-field in America. Is it not possible that the oil was once embosomed in this anthracite, as it is now in the Japanese coal? And being driven out by subterraneous heat was absorbed by the neighboring sandstone as in the condenser of a distillery apparatus?

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It was formerly supposed that coal beds were formed by vegetation brought from a distance, but while rivers may have been to some extent contributary there is abundant evidence that, for the most part, coal is the fossil product of vegetation which grew where it formed, as peat now does.

THE

ELECTRICITY AT ROME.

HENRI DE PARVILLE,

Le Correspondant, Paris, October 10.

HE Eternal City has had for three or four years important works for electric lighting by alternating currents and transformers, operating at 2,000 volts with steam-engines. It was indeed at Rome that one of the first applications of alternating currents on a large scale for the production of electric light was made. For a long time a preference was given to continuous currents. To traverse long distances, however, it is preferable to use alternating currents, which can easily be produced with pressures of from four to five thousand volts. There do not exist works with continuous currents exceeding 3.000 volts.

The works at Rome, though often enlarged, had become insufficient to answer the constantly increasing demands for the electric current. It occurred to the authorities to utilize the Falls of Tivoli, about eighteen miles from Rome, and this has been done. The works have just been completed and are very remarkable.

The mechanical energy of the Falls of Tivoli has been brought to the gates of Rome with a potential of 5,000 volts. There takes place a first transformation. The always dangerous current of 5,000 volts is brought down to a potential of 2,000 volts. From this point the wires are laid under ground through the city and, by a second transformation, the current is reduced to 100 volts. The apparatus, called "transformers,' which bring about this reduction of pressure, leave now a pressure of from 96 to 100 volts at most. Very little, then, is lost on the way. Some years ago this transformation could not have been made economically.

The hydraulic station at Tivoli is situated in the villa which was the residence of Mæcenas, the minister of the Emperor Augustus. The station is fed by a fall of water about 366 feet high. The delivery reaches about 875 gallons a second. This real river is brought, over an ancient Roman viaduct, in a canal 500 feet long and 10 feet wide, to a station where the hydraulic machinery is established, on the side of the mountain, in a very picturesque situation. The water, entering a room about 83 feet long and 50 wide, passes through a large pipe subdivided into three branches. The water from each branch feeds a group of three turbine wheels-two turbines of 350 horse-power, one of 50 horse-power, of the Girard pattern. These nine turbines engender a total of 1,200 horse-power. Each dynamo produces a current of 5,100 volts and 42 amperes. From the hydraulic station the current is sent to Rome by

cable. The line traverses the Roman Campagna in nearly a straight direction, and is composed of four cables of copper wire. Each of these cables is formed of a strand of 19 wires 2.6 millimetres in diameter, which gives a total section of 100 square millimetres. The four cables weigh altogether 100 tons. The Roman Campagna is generally deserted; still precautions have been taken against danger. The cables are supported by insulators on poles. Near the Porta Pia is the building where the current is transformed. Thirty-two transformers reduce the potential of the line to 2,000 volts. Finally the current thus modified is carried to the places where it is used for power, and there the current is brought down to a pressure of 100 volts. All the apparatus, from Tivoli on, works with perfect regularity.

The progress realized can be estimated by recalling that, in 1873, for the first time, Mr. Fontaine transmitted, at the Vienna Exposition on the Prater, before the Emperor, a current of one-horse power a distance of about 160 feet. Now from Tivoli to Rome a current of 1,200 horse-power is transmitted eighteen miles.

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If any one thinks that the abyss is less an abyss because it is enveloped in fog, he is welcome to his opinion. Protestantism, Catholicism, Judaism, are all alike, or rather they are no more existent, for a religion that is not a working religion is dead." Lagarde was right, and the history of recent years affords ample evidence of the widespread acceptance of the truth. See, for example, Dr. Otto Dreyer's" Undogmatic Christianity: Observations of a German Idealist." Dr. Dreyer still hopes much from a resurrection of Christianity, and will surrender nothing of its doctrines, but the attentive reader will find many evidences, in this, in many respects, really noble work, that here the wish was father to the thought, and can never be other than a pious wish. It is very difficult here to go far enough, and yet not go too far. Lagarde, Dreyer, the Compiler of the Catechism, the Protestant Association, and even Egidy, do not in many respects go far enough. Nietzsche, on the other hand, goes too far, and yet whatwe want is the unification, without friction, of German Idealism with the modern views of Nietzsche and of natural science.

That the old religions are really antiquated we find abundant evidence on all hands. It is the unassailable conviction of every man grounded in modern thought. But as this is a very important matter, and as there are unquestionably many who still cling to the old views, we will advance a few evidences of the justice of our characterization of the old religions as antiquated, and of their unsuitability for our own age, to say nothing of the future.

Potestantism and Catholicism are alike rooted in Christianity, and Christianity is rooted in the ancient world; it is rooted for the most part in old-Grecian philosophy. It is Philosophy. The course of development of philosophy from the GræcoRoman world through Christ to the Middle Ages, and thence to modern philosophy is without a break. Christianity had its origin in the ancient world, and bears the marks of its origin plainly. The ancient world, however, lies behind us. Even the intermediate Middle Ages have been left behind, and we stand before a new age, a new world. Can any demonstration really be needed that the Christian religion, rooted in antiquity, is unsuited to our modern age, irreconcilable with our modes of thought, out of harmony with our scientific outlook? Our

views of life and nature, our culture, our science, have all undergone development in the course of centuries of culture; we have been advancing on an onward course, and now we stand before the door; one spring alone is necessary to launch ourselves into the new era. Shall we take this antiquated Christian religion with us into the new era as our religion, or only as history.

Again the new era is characterized by individuality. Even nations are sharply individualized. They recognize themselves as individuals, national characteristics are cultivated. We dive deep down into the popular soul in search of its treasured pearls and corals. And the Christian religion? Did it originate in the primitive days of our Aryan ancestors, or is it marked by Semitic as well as Aryan characteristics? Is it essentially national? "It is universally human." Good, but humanity is always national. Where is the nationality that gave birth to Christianity?

And the views which the Christian religion enforces? The Christian does good and avoids evil because God requires it, he prays God for help when he is in need and for pardon for his offenses, he prays God for strength to resist evil, and prays God not to lead him into temptation, thanks God for all good gifts, and for life itself, and has his eye ever fixed on the hereafter. But modern man, the man of the new era, takes his stand on our beautiful mother earth and gazes into the blue heavens, does good for goodness's sake, and avoids evil because it is evil, trusts to his own right hand to help him in his need and in the hour of danger repents him of the evil that he does, and finds in the slings and arrows of conscience, repentance, and in repentance, forgiveness; and knows that when he achieves anything he has only his own energies and the aid of his fellow-man to thank for it. What sentiments could be more elevated, more Godlike?

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We must remember, above all things, that religions are the work of men's hands. For ages it was believed that the Christian religion was divine revelation, but those days are fled. We know now that it is human. Its views of life, the lessons it inculcates cannot rise above the intellectual and ethical level of those who prepared it. But does anyone believe that the world has stood still for nineteen hundred years? Do we not rather know that humanity has developed, changed, risen? The Christian religion has undergone no corresponding development, it had no vitality, and has dropped so far behind that as a practical religion and guide of life it no longer confronts us; we see its face no more, and now "we stand before the Void."

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But when one has nothing, and needs much, it is necessary to create something. A creed cannot, however, be made, it grows. But it cannot grow spontaneously. The field must be prepared.

We close here with De Lagarde's saying, "Ultramontism "—and note clearly-"and Protestantism must be annihilated, not by force, but firstly by ceasing to recognize them; secondly, by the substitution of something recognizedly better, something which will better satisfy human needs, and enable us to forget them."

BY

HAS ISLAM A FUTURE?

THE REVEREND THOMAS P. HUGHES, D.D.
Arena, Boston, November.

Y the courtesy of the editor of the Arena, the advance sheets of an article on "The Future of Islam," by Ibn Ishak, are before me.

I do not intend to reply to the learned Moslem writer's strictures on European and American society. There is much in the conditions of modern life which is regarded by European and American writers as unsatisfactory; but this results from a departure from the essential principles of Christ's religion, and cannot, therefore, be used as an argument against the adaptation of Christianity to the necessities of civilized life. It must be *See THE LITerary Digest, Vol. V., No. 22, p. 603.

admitted that, glaring as the immoral conditions of civilized life are, and hypocritical as are many of its legislative enactments, the morality of European and American society is very far in advance of that of Mohammedan countries. To compare "the civilization which marked the Khalifate of Bagdad, and which gave a diadem of glory to Moslem rule in Cordova," with the social conditions of Paris, London, or New York would call for a volume.

There is, I admit, very much in the strictures of Ibn Ishak which we may reasonably take to heart. But we can scarcely look to Islam for the regeneration of the Western world. For, admitting that the Sultan of Turkey is an imposter, having no claim to the leadership of Islam, there have been countries, Bokhara, Khiva, and Yarkand, for example, which have enjoyed the privilege of Moslem rule as it was ordained by the precepts of the Prophet; and yet it would, perhaps, be impossible to find any nation more completely sunk in darkness and ignorance than those three countries, which for centuries have been ruled according to the Moslem code.

But if the Moslems are wrong in their estimate of the comparative benefits of Christianity and Islam, it may, I think, be attributed somewhat to the peculiar manner in which the Christian evangelist attempts to convert the Moslem world. Missionaries unfortunately commenced with the evangelical revival, and consequently they have carried with them much that was unintelligible to the Oriental mind.

To the Moslem scholar, the crude utterances of the "Bazaar preacher" must seem as peculiar as the curious tight-fitting garments worn by the speaker. Again, it is unfortunate that Christianity has been reintroduced into the Oriental World as an English creed, carrying with it all that is objectionable in the voice, manner, and style of the British ruler. The Mohammedan of Turkey, India, and Persia can never separate the religion of the modern missionary from his dislike and prejudice to the Western conqueror.

The Moslem religion stands as much upon its historical continuity as the Christian Church does upon its Apostolical Succession. Consequently, neither the Westminster Confession, nor the Thirty-nine Articles, nor Wesley's Sermons are very fit weapons wherewith to combat the religion of the great Arabian reformer. It was the present Bishop Westcott, I think, who said that the Moslem mind is more likely to move on the lines of Athanasius and Origen than on those of Augustine and Anselm. Yet the Christian literature introduced into the Orient by the English, German, and American missionary is saturated with Calvinism and Wesleyanism. Even controversies which have agitated the English Church in modern times have been introduced into the mission field. Modern missionary societies have proved incompetent to deal with Islam and Buddhism, intrenched by the historic continuity of centuries.

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Ibn Ishak is perfectly correct in saying that in the study of Islam the Christian writer sees polygamy on every page." Mr. Syed Ameer Ali, "Ibn Ishak," and Syed Ahmed have explained (or attempted to explain) the polygamy of Mohammed, and it would be well for modern missions if those evangelists who carry in their hands the Biblical accounts of Lot, Jacob, David, and Solomon as an inspired record, would avoid this objectionable and unsavory line of controversy.

I refer to this subject with some reluctance. But it must be stated, for I think it provable that the marriages of Mahommed were contracted rather for political than licentious reasons. In attacking the character of the Prophet of Arabia, the Christian missionary raises between himself and the Mahommedans, whom he seeks to convert, an almost impassable barrier. An experience of my own, twenty years ago, proves this.

Converts from Islam, I admit, are few; but there are among them typical men. After careful observation, extending over many years, I am convinced that there are many such men,

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