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gent gymnastic a theologian might be in good blood to write currente calamo a statement of what has been slowly and laboriously revealed to him:— Oh, such a life as he resolved to live, When he had learned it, When he had gathered all books had to give!

Sooner, he spurned it.

But here is a man who puts pen to paper during a holiday at St. Ives; writes, as he says, “before a window overlooking the heaving waste of waters on a rock-bound Cornish coast,” and, though he has but three weeks in which to re-state his faith, can stay to notice that “it is a stormy day.” What is the result? A slipshod, slangy, often quite grotesque explanation of what we have no doubt are the sincerely entertained ideas of his heart and his mind. By consequence he allows himself to describe the God of “ordinary churchgoing Christians” as One who is “greatly bothered and thwarted” by human depravity and who “takes the whole thing very seriously.” Also he patronizes the author of the fourth Gospel as an “exceedingly able writer.”

The Outlook.

Secondly, Mr. Campbell makes the hopeless mistake of expounding his “reed as if his own personality had any importance in connection with it. We have no patience with those who attack him on the ground of his unfaithfulness to the trust deed of the City Temple, unless they are at the same time members of that congregation, but equally we have no patience with Mr. Campbell's insistence on the fact that “chapter and verse” for all that he here avows “can be produced from my published sermons.” That is a purely do. mestic matter, like his reference to “the Controversial methods of the editor of the British Weekly.” The public have Ilo Concern With either. When we have a more laborious, a more conscientious exposition of what Mr. Campbell would have his generation believe, we shall consider it with the respect that is its due. Meantime we can only express our regret that a sympathetic preacher of many gifts and graces should have essayed so lightly a task which years of toil may yet enable him to perform with credit.


“The Warden” and “Framley Parsonage” follow “Barchester Towers” in the new group of books in Everyman's Library; and although “Doctor Thorne" should come between them in the regular order, it is probably safe to assume that both that and the remaining two volumes of the Barsetshire Series will be added so that the reader may have the most charming group of Trollope’s stories complete in this edition.

It is sixty years or more since George Dennis completed the studies and observations which found fruit in his

work on “The Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria"; and the mystery of the origin, the language, the religion and the institutions of the Etruscans remains nearly or quite as complete as when he wrote, in spite of researches and discoveries in the interval. Mr. Dennis's work is now reprinted in Everyman's Library, in two volumes, with a map and plans and a hundred or more illustrations.

Among the works of solid and enduring value included in the latest volumes of Everyman's Library are Samuel Coleridge's essays, notes and lect

ures on Shakespeare and some other old poets and dramatists; Augustine Thierry's history of The Conquest of England by the Normans, in two volumes, one of the most brilliant histories of that great event; Professor Alexander Fraser Tytler's Essay on the Principles of Translation; George Finlay's history of Greece Under the Romans; Mungo Park's Travels in the Interior of Africa, travels now a century old, but still full of vivid interest; Virgil's Aeneid, in a new translation into English verse, by Mr. E. Fairfax Taylor, who beguiled his leisure through many years in turning the great epic into limpid Spenserian verse; and that classic among classics, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, with an introduction by Rev. H. Elvet Lewis.

Mr. Henry Cecil Wyld’s “The Historical Study of the Mother Tongue” is not meant for those dwelling in the lower air in which spelling reform and similar questions are discussed, but for those seriously intent upon learning through what changes and by what influences English has become what it is, not only to the ear and eye, but also to the understanding mind. “To give some indications of the point of view from which a language should be studied, and of the principal points of method in such a study.” is the author's modest summary of its object; and his hope, as he states it, is to prepare the way for the study of some of the great pioneers of our knowledge, and the chief framers of contemporary philological theory. The opening chapters on phonetics may be read with profit by all teachers of orthoepy and elocution, and students of easy etymology may gain from later passages something of that wider view of their work which will give zest and energy to its pursuit, but the proper readers of the work

are those who have taken philology for their subject, who have something of the enthusiasm of Trench although their way is charted by those who have traversed it in the years intervening between this happy day and his. (I. I’. Dutton & Co.)

Mrs. Colquhoun Grant's “Queen and Cardinal” is such a history of Anne of Austria and of Mazarin as may be gleaned not only from the kindly, respectful pages of De Motteville but from the less good-natured persons who according to a fashion not yet banished from courts saw the better and decided that others had followed the worse. The story, like all stories of its time, one is tempted to say, is sad. Tranquillity was nowhere; faith hardly existed; intrigue was universal; simplicity hardly possible, and, interesting although the story of the period may be, too often it is almost too painful. The only advantage possessed by royalty in Anne's day seems to have been an opportunity to try all the discomforts and misadventures possible in every one of the lower ranks, with the added torture of enduring everything in the glare of publicity, and the occasional outbursts of splendor and luxury are poor compensation for intervening troubles. Anne's story has not hitherto been made the chief subject of a book written in English, and, although the author disclaims any historical pretensions, she has made the two Cardinals, Madame de Chevreuse, and the Queen herself living figures, not easily forgotten. Portraits of both Queen and Cardinal at various ages have been added by the publisher, but inscrutability was the royal merit of those days, and the pictured faces furnish no key to the characters of the originals. (E. P. Dutton & Co.)


No. 3278 May 4, 1907.



1. Henry Fielding and His Writings. By Harry Christopher Minchin

FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW 259 II. Women and Politics : Two Rejoinders. By Caroline E. Stephen

and Theo. Chapman NINETEENTH CENTURY AND AFTER 270 II. Fakumen, By David Fraser . . . BLACKWOOD's MAGAZINE 276 IV. The Enemy's Camp. Chapter VII. (To be continued) .

MACMILLAN'S MAGAZINE 286 V. “Eugenics " and Descent. By R. Brudenell Carter

CORNHILL MAGAZINE 291 VI. Tembo's Intercession. By Ralph A. Durand . . . . .

MACMILLAN'S MAGAZINE 301 VII. The Poetry of Bridges . . . . . . . OUTLOOK 308 VIII. The Literary Coiner. By J. Churton Collins . . . NATION 310 IX. The Speed of Travel

. . . SPECTATOR 314 X. Higher Education in the United States. By A. T. 8. NATURE 316 XI, Britanniæ Omnes. By H. W. Just . . SATURDAY REVIEW 318

XII. The Primrose Path. By Rosamund Marriott Watson . .

ATHENAEUM 258 XIII. The Storm. By Olive Douglas . . . . . ACADEMY 258 XIV. Facts. By William H. Davies . . . . . . . . 258

BOOKS AND AUTHORS . . . . . . . . . 319


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Some years ago the late I)r. Traill, in one of his witty dialogues written after Lucian's manner, represented Samuel Richardson as inflamed with jealousy because posterity had raised a statue to Henry Fielding and left him without one. Whereupon Fielding offered the satirical consolation that in one particular at least they had been treated impartially—for that posterity did not read the works of either of them.

This statement, whatever we may think of its probability, is scarcely susceptible of proof. Publishers occasionally assure us that such and such an author is “the favorite reading” of such and such a great personage; the novels of Gaboriau, for instance, have been described as “the favorite reading of Prince Bismarck.” The Waverley novels accompanied Napoleon on his campaigns, and Charles II. took especial delight in Hudibras. I have not discovered that any person of note has admitted the works of Henry Fielding to the first place in his regard–Horace Walpole actually says he found them stupid and vulgar—but I do know that a British admiral who came home from his last cruise about 1850 always made Tom Jones a part of his sea library. These attested facts do not, of course, materially help us to gauge the taste of “the great variety of readers.” But as the majority of them are usually credited with a good appetite for fiction, it would certainly be strange if Henry Fielding, whom Sir Walter deemed the father of the English novel, were, in the multitude of his descendants, left stranded high and dry; if Tom Jones, “that exquisite picture of human manners,” as Gibbon called it, so far from outliving “the Palace of the Escurial and the Imperial Eagle of Austria.” were to pass, along with the hobby

horse, to the land where all things are forgotten. Whether that Hisory of a Foundling would continue to exist if nobody read it, let metaphysicians decide. Dr. Traill's statement, sweeping as it is, must not be taken literally. Fielding still has readers, still has admirers. But I)r. Traill, who was an excellent judge of such matters, clearly thought that their number was not very extensive, and I venture to believe that he was right. If that were not the case, if I supposed that all the readers of this Review: knew as much of Henry Fielding and his works as they desire to know, I would hold my hand; but it is because I surmise the contrary that I have dared to string together some random thoughts about the man and his writings, now that the bi-centenary of his birth approaches. Even so might a Lilliputian who had made a study of Gulliver during many nights and days discourse of the Man-Mountain to other Lilliputians, whose avocations had debarred them from so close a scrutiny. For, whatever else we may think of Fielding, he is admittedly among the Titans; and as to the comparative neglect which has overtaken him, it may be partially explained by the fairly common feeling that the first half of the eighteenth century, of which he wrote, is an especially ignoble period in our annals. Yet it may be of service to cast a backward glance at that noisy, robustious age, when our rude forefathers were (it appears) so very different from their polite descendants. There is little doubt that the most striking instance of that contrast in manners is to be found in the person of Squire Western, Tory, fox-hunter, and preserver of the game. Bred at the University, he talked the broad dia

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